#i’m talking two years ago now. isn’t that strange? and i eat what i like now i buy biscuits and chutney on a whim

[afieldinengland]

i miss a god who grinds my face in the dirt

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom

I Can’t Stand It

Rosie’s tantrum in the park, reminds Sherlock of his own childhood. It’s strange that so much of what the little girl says and does resonates with him.

“She’s not yours,” several voices inside his head tells him.

Still, he can’t shake off the feeling of being something more to her than just…what is he exactly to her? She calls him Lock; he calls her Watson. He desperately wants her to call him something else, which he only allows himself to think about when he’s alone.

“I can’t stand it, daddy!” Rosie exclaims and stomps her feet.

“But, sweetheart,” John tries to reason with his four-year-old daughter. “You were perfectly fine eating this last week.”

Rosie rolls her eyes and throws her arms in the air. Sherlock can see that John’s mouth twitches slightly as he’s supressing a smile. Sherlock hears his mother’s voice filled with delight in his mind.

“She’s so much like you sometimes, darling.”

“There are big pieces in it,” Rosie explains to John. “I want smooth ice cream.”

John looks over at Sherlock for help, but Sherlock has long ago decided to never lie to John again. He shrugs apologetically and mutters something under his breath.

“What was that, Sherlock?” John inquires, his tone exasperated now.

“It’s quite normal for children her age to change tastes and react to new textures. I was the same.”

“Yeah, well, she’s not…”

“I know, John!” Sherlock snaps. “You and everyone we know keeps telling me that.”

He turns on his heel and walks briskly out of the park. Behind him the two Watsons call after him, begging him to come back but he can’t. Sherlock can live with everyone else claiming that he’s not Rosie’s father, but it hurts when John joins the choir. Of course, Sherlock knows he has no biological connection to her, but he’s raising her together with John, isn’t he? She comes just as willingly to him as to John. 

“Protect your heart, brother mine,” Mycroft told him after John and Rosie moved to Baker Street, and not for the first time. His brother knew that Sherlock’s heart belonged to John and had for a very long time.

***

Where are you? I’m sorry, Sherlock. We need to talk. Are you coming home soon?

Sherlock’s heart races in his chest when he reads John’s text. He barely registers the apology. All his brain is capable of is trying to deduce what John wants to talk about.

Are they moving out? Does John want him to spend less time with Rosie? Won’t he be allowed to do children safe experiments with her anymore?

He pulls his hair in frustration. Why is it so hard to figure out what John wants? Sherlock’s able to read anyone but John. Why?

“Hi, Sherlock. I didn’t know you were here,” Molly says when she walks into the lab at Barts.

“I’m leaving,” Sherlock tells her and walks rapidly out of the room.

***

Sherlock stands and watches the Thames float by. The London Eye is coloured in pink in the far distance. It’s getting dark and he’s got no recollection of the last hours. His phone buzzes in his pocket and he suddenly remembers that he’s forgotten to answer John’s text.

“A bit not good, Sherlock,” John’s voice scolds him.

Can I call you? Rosie wants to say goodnight.

Sherlock feels his face soften. The Watsons are probably still at Baker Street then. He doesn’t hesitate but calls John’s number.

John’s voice sounds relieved when he picks up, but it’s tinted with worry.

“Hi. You alright?” he asks.

“Fine,” Sherlock says, and it comes out more clipped than he intended.

John sighs and apparently gives the phone to Rosie.

“Lock!” the little girl exclaims.

“Hello, Watson. Ready for bed?” Sherlock inquires softly.

“Yes. Tired,” she tells him and yawns.

Sherlock feels his throat thicken, and he must swallow hard and close his eyes to keep his tears at bay. Without thinking he uses the endearment only Rosie has heard.

“Goodnight, my heart.”

“Night, Lock. See you tomorrow,” Rosie slurs, clearly almost asleep.

Sherlock ends the call before John gets a chance to ask him humiliating questions. The sharp intake of breath from John when Sherlock bid Rosie goodnight didn’t go unnoticed.

“You’ve ruined it now, Holmes,” he tells himself.

***

Aldi is still open, and Sherlock buys two boxes of ice cream for Rosie without any pieces of fruit, berries, crunch, chocolate or other abominations.

He takes a deep breath before locking himself into Baker Street, and he ascends the stairs silently. John sits in his chair, reading one of his medical journals. Sherlock just nods and walks to the kitchen with his purchases. He places the boxes in the freezer before walking to the bathroom.

“Sherlock?” John calls after him.

“Shower,” Sherlock answers.

The shower does wonders, and Sherlock feels quite refreshed and relaxed when he puts on a t-shirt, pyjamas bottoms and his maroon dressing gown. John stands just outside Sherlock’s bedroom and Sherlock startles a bit.

“Everything alright?” he asks. “Watson?”

“She’s fine, Sherlock. Soundly asleep. I just want to apologise properly to you. I was way out of line earlier. No, Sherlock, listen. I need to say this. Please.”

John’s expression is pained, and Sherlock doesn’t know what’s to come next. Nothing could have prepared him for this.

“I know it’s no excuse that I was exhausted and sleep deprived, but that’s the defence I have, and it’s appalling to say the least. Rosie…she is…just as much yours as she is mine. You care for her just like any parent. She loves you, we both do, and…”

“John?” 

Sherlock’s voice is trembling, and he feels his balance is about to fail him. Warm and steady hands are placed on his upper arms and when John speaks again, his voice is warm with affection.

“Forgive me. Please?”

Sherlock just nods and lets himself melt in John’s embrace.

@flashfictionfridayofficial @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884 @helloliriels @safedistancefrombeingsmart @gregorovitch-adler @raina-at @peanitbear @topsyturvy-turtely @7-percent @ninasnakie

[aecu]

GUILTY lee haechan

warnings mark’s gf!reader x boyfriends best friend!haechan, haechan and reader are just terrible, degradation (he says slut like once), unprotected sex, unedited

PRESENT DAY

it’s been a week since you first had sex with your boyfriend’s best friend, and to say you’re paranoid is an understatement. to say you didn’t enjoy it would be an outright lie. the feeling of regret has been weighing on your conscience since the day it happened and it feels like the world is attempting to signal to you how much of an asshole you are.

it’s embarrassing how hard your brain is working to convince itself that everything that happened was a huge accident that you would never do again in a million— scratch that, trillion years. the reality is though, you want to do it again. since it happened, you’ve found yourself hovering over haechan’s contact, almost pressing the call button, or typing out messages to him, all with the purpose of meeting up and doing it all over again. what’s even worse is that you’re pretty sure you still like mark, and you feel something beyond guilt for betraying his trust in such a brutal way.

when the urge to call and text haechan fades, all you’re left with is dark cloud looming quietly over your head and a long list of questions. why has haechan not called? does he regret it as much as you do? you find it hard to believe that you’re the only one who’s feeling sick with guilt. it’s almost infuriating how little he seems to care about any of this; about you, mark or the fact that he fucked his best friends girlfriend. maybe it’s out of pure rage or whatever respect you have left for your and mark’s relationship, but you find yourself tapping the call icon on haechan’s contact without much hesitation, impatiently listening to the buzz of the dial tone.

the buzzing stops once he picks up, groaning out a tired ‘hello’ before awaiting your response.

“we need to talk.”

1 WEEK AGO

tuesday’s were your designated “study at mark’s apartment” days. the two of you had met after one of your professors approached you, asking if you’d be willing to help tutor a student who had been struggling with the class. after a bit of convincing, you had agreed and began meeting with mark regularly to help him with his work. you’d seen him around campus a few times, hanging out with a decent sized group of what you assumed were his friends. you and mark had quickly grown close, sharing a giddy mutual excitement for your tutoring sessions that would eventually bleed into sushi dates and movie nights. despite all of this, the two of you never really discussed putting a label on your relationship, however you knew mark wasn’t seeing anyone else, and it was assumed by most that the two of you were exclusive.

so there you stood, at the door of mark’s apartment waiting for him to let you in. as you prepare your fist to give the door another set of knocks, it swings open to reveal someone, who is definitely not your boyfriend, in grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt.

“mark isn’t here right now, said something about running out to pick up some food he ordered for you guys. you can come in if you want though, i don’t mind,” haechan, his roommate, was someone you’d only interacted with a handful of times. he was polite enough, usually only sticking around to get a bite of whatever the two of you had decided to eat before retreating back to his room. realizing that you had yet to respond to him, you quickly nodded your head and waited for him to crack the door open more and let you into the apartment.

stepping inside, you eyes skidded around the living space. their place was fairly empty, the walls mostly barren of any decoration, as expected of a couple of guys in university. assuming haechan probably didn’t want you to lurk around him too much, you hurriedly took off your shoes and began making your way towards mark’s bedroom. haechan’s voice breaks the silence in the room.

“i’m watching that new doctor strange movie if you wanna join, you know, while you wait for mark to come back,” he says. watching a movie sounds much more entertaining than any of the physics work you could be doing right now, so you accept haechan’s invite and sit on the opposite end of the couch from him.

when the movie starts back up, you aren’t really paying much attention, more concerned with thinking about haechan. though the two of you have only interacted a few times, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him cute. he was always dyeing his hair different colors and had such pretty lips that you found it difficult to not stare at him anytime he was around. you’re almost certain you’ve seen him staring at you a few times too, watching you intently every time you come over in shorts or a skirt. it makes you wonder if he feels the same about you at all. the thought bites at you, it feels as though there’s something in your head screaming at you to bite the bullet and test your theory.

as they say, curiosity killed the cat.

if you didn’t know any better, you’d say mark had to have left the country to get whatever food he ordered. it feels like it’s been hours, although a quick glance at the clock on your phone informs you that it’s only been about one. in that time, you’ve given into that nagging voice in your head, initiating your ‘experiment’ by sliding closer to haechan on the couch. you don’t look at him, but it’s impossible to not feel his stare on you. your movement is subtle enough to not completely blow your cover, but just enough to put him on edge. you remain like this for a few minutes, before moving ever so much closer. at this point, he’s within arms reach and the burn of his glare is so evident, it makes you feel hot. you aren’t sure exactly what is it, but something tells you that this is a now or never moment. whatever it is possesses you to slide your hand across the space between your thigh and his and rest it high atop haechan’s thigh.

you hear a deep sigh come from beside you before haechan opens his mouth again; he’s catching on.

“you know we can’t do this, right? jesus, y/n, you’re his fucking girlfriend, and i’m his closest friend,” the tone he speaks in makes you cringe. of course you know it’s bad, and who knows, maybe you from even just a few minutes ago would have allowed this to knock some sense into you, but at this moment, your thoughts are running on nothing but pure lust. suddenly, everything about him is so tempting. much like the fruit to adam and eve, something about haechan calls to you.

“have you never thought about it before? do you think i’m oblivious to the way you stare at me when i’m around? watching the way my chest moves, staring at my ass when you think i’m not paying attention. we both want this don’t we?” he doesn’t respond, and the silence send a chill down your spine. panic, your brain fills with it. that nagging voice in your brain was not accounting for all the possibilities of this interaction. he could turn you down and tell mark, effectively ruining your relationship. the ball is in his court and it terrifies you.

it’s unexpected when his hands cup your face and his lips press against yours. the kiss isn’t gentle— it’s nasty and desperate. he’s waited for this, and it’s evident in the way he slides he tongue into your mouth before pulling away with your bottom lip between his teeth.

“we can’t do this here, he could be back any minute,” he breathes, pulling you from your spot on the couch and tugging you towards his bedroom. haechan wastes no time shutting and locking the door before turning to face you. “hurry up and get undressed,” he’s impatient, almost anxious sounding. he wants you so bad, but he has absolutely no interest in being found by your boyfriend—his best friend—with his cock inside you. you comply with his demands, understanding his sense of urgency. “turn around and bend over the edge of the bed. you’re gonna take what i give you, understand? you act like a slut and i’ll fuck you like one.”

you hear him tug down his sweats and kick them aside before he comes behind you, resting his cock against your lower back momentarily before sliding it downwards and rubbing the tip right against your slit. he slowly pushes inside you, groaning at the feeling of you squeezing around him.

“god, does he ever fuck you? this pussy is so fucking tight, i’m barely gonna last,” he huffs, wrapping a hand around your neck and pull you back just enough to align your ear with his mouth. “you love this, don’t you? you love fucking your boyfriends friends, hm?” you almost wish he would stop saying that, but the feeling of his cock pounding into you is too much. it leaves you wordless, especially as his grip on your neck tightens. whines spill loudly from your lips, you aren’t even trying to be quiet and it makes him nervous. haechan reaches over you to grab a pillow from the head of his bed, placing it right where your head would fall on the bed before pushing your face into it. “since you can’t shut up, you’ll have to keep your face right there. now be quiet, baby.” you choose to tune out the pet name.

“fuck, fuck, fuck. it’s too deep, haechan please,” you whine, muffled against the pillow. you hear him chuckle from behind you as he speeds up his thrusts, the room filled with nothing but your whines, the obscene noises of your wetness and the repetitive plap plap plap of haechan’s skin colliding with yours.

“you can take it, you’re already taking it so good. just a little bit longer.” haechan’s voice is breathless and it’s clear that he’s getting close. this thrusts grow sloppy and uneven and you can feel yourself getting close too. knowing just the thing to put him over the edge, you lay your head on its side against the pillow to uncover your mouth.

“please fill me up, haechan,” you whimper. he lets out a few weak moans before burying himself deep inside you and stilling his hips. the way his cum shoots inside you is enough to push you over the edge as well, your legs shaking underneath him. it’s only when he pulls out that you realize how dirty you feel. his cum dripping out from inside you, the apparent smell of sex lingering in the room, it all serves as a reminder for how much you’re hurting mark without him even knowing. you even let him cum inside, something that mark himself hasn’t even done. wordlessly, you lift yourself off of the bed and come to a stand, feeling haechan’s cum drip down the inside of your thigh.

“sorry, i know you’re tired but do you have anything i could use to clean myself up,” you ask. haechan lazily points a finger to the box of tissues on his desk before dramatically dropping his arm to the bed. you pluck out a few tissues—not even wanting to ask why they’re in such close proximity to his computer— and quickly wipe off the inside of your thighs and between your legs. you toss the dirtied tissues into the small garbage can by the door of the room and gather your underwear and pants to put back on. “mark, wherever he is, is probably gonna be back soon so i’m gonna head back to the living room now. thanks for- uh, that,” you don’t stay to hear his response and unlock the door to his room, quickly padding back over to the main living space and pressing play on the long paused movie.

you hope that your ignorance will make the guilt go away.

PRESENT DAY

“we both did something terrible, i’ve acknowledged that. what i can’t understand is why you don’t seem to give a fuck. i’ve spent the past week pondering on how much of a shit girlfriend i am, hoping that you’ll call and tell me that what we did can never happen again and i’ve gotten nothing. i can’t be the only one of us who cares. do you not feel terrible about this? i couldn’t even look mark in the face while studying today and as far as i could see, you looked fine.” being yelled at by the girl he had sex with a week ago was not how haechan expected to be woken up.

“you think i don’t feel bad? mark and i have been friends since fucking middle school, of course i feel like shit. unlike you, i’m actually trying to keep him unaware of what happened instead of acting like a coward every time i’m around him. quit trying to make me the bad guy here, we both agreed to it and now we’re facing the consequences.” haechan’s words are venomous, and you know you’ve fucked up majorly. you’re both hurting and struggling to navigate relationships where mark’s trust was so disgustingly broken.

“i’m sorry. i know i shouldn’t be blaming all of this on you. i just really don’t want to lose mark, and i don’t want you to lose him either. i don’t know what to do, haechan,” your throat tightens as you speak, on the verge of tears.

“maybe i can come over. so we can talk about everything in person.”

“yeah, yeah. i’ll send you my address and you can just text me when you’re here.”

“i will.” without another word, he hangs up and you’re once again left with nothing but your own thoughts. especially the fact that you’re considering doing it all again.

[specialagentlokitty]

Saul Silva/Farah x Teen!reader - never lost hope

Hello! I have a request for Silva/Dowling xTeen Reader story. They had a child once and it disappeared (like Bloom was taken in the first world) and now they found R and bring back to Alfea, telling R the truth. I dont know if you want to write it. - Anon💜

They never lost hope, even after 17 years of having nothing, Saul and Farah never lost hope when it came to trying to find their child.

Sometimes it felt hopeless, and sometimes they were sure they were close, but they still held out hope that somewhere in the otherworld or the first world you were out there and you were safe.

After confirming you were in fact not in the otherworld, they turned their attention to the first world, reaching out to anyone from the other world who lived there, any specialists or fairies that were there to help them.

All they had was a digitally created imagine of what you would roughly look like now, and that was it.

Until a few months ago when someone had sent them a picture.

It took a few days to compare and confirm, but they were sure it was you, and they reached out to the local police for help.

It was a slow process, but it was a huge lead, one they hadn’t had for years since you were a baby. 

But here you were, in a small town in Texas, growing up.

After emailing back and forth with your foster parents, they were finally invited to the home with police to monitor what was happening.

They weren’t sure if you knew or not, and as Farah and Saul were being escorted to your house in an unmarked car, the reality of the situation was starting to become clear.

“I’m sure it’s them.” Saul whispered.

“I know it is. It’s just if they’re willing to accept what’s really going on..” Farah whispered back.

Saul nodded his head because he knew she was right. If you refused to accept what was going on it would make everything a whole lot harder.

They pulled up into the driveway of a nice house where two men were waiting outside.

“James and Cody (L/N), (Y/N)s foster fathers.” The officer said.

The two nodded and climbed out of the car and walked over. The blonde male held out his hand.

“Saul and Farah I assume? I’m James.”

The black haired man held his hand out next.

“And I’m Cody, (Y/N) isn’t home right now so we can talk freely for a few hours.”

“Thank you so much for agreeing to this.” Farah sighed.

They were led inside and everyone sat down at the table and it was quiet for a moment.

“Oh we thought you might want to have this.” James said.

He got up and grabbed a binder and walked back over and handed it to them, showing them all the photos of you growing up in different places.

“(Y/N) was bounced about the system a little bit until they were 10, they’ve been with us since. We decided a few years later that we were going to wait until they were an adult to decide if they wanted to be adopted or try find well.. you two.”

They carried on talking and discussing your life, things that Saul and Farah had missed but were glad you could experience.

You saw the strange car in the driveway but you didn’t pay much attention to it as you barrelled through the front door, the Doberman behind you barking as he ran through too.

“Bodi dinner!” You yelled.

The dog barked and jumped up and down at the kitchen doorway.

You jogged through and grabbed his bowl to give him his dinner, and you held it up.

Bodi sat down and wagged his tail happily, waiting for you to place it down and walk away before he dived at it.

“(Y/N) can you come here please?” Kody called.

You mumbled out a reply around the apple you were eating and poked your head through the doorway, waving your hair.

Saul and Farah stared at you.

You were so grown up, just like the picture they had of you.

You walked in, leaning against the doorframe.

“And what have you been doing?” James chuckled.

He gestured for you to come over and he pulled a chair in front of him for you to sit down while you ate your apple and he picked things from your hair and shirt.

“Mr Riddon, needed help on the ranch, so I went to help, and I was climbing the haystack.” You beamed happily.

You looked at the officer standing in the back of the room.

“Hi officer Marks.”

“Hello (Y/N), been keeping out of trouble?” He smiled.

“I wanna say yes. But you’re here so yes?”

He laughed a little, shaking his head.

“Am not here for you kiddo don’t worry. Just here to talk to Kody and James.”

You turned to the new people in the room, and you smiled softly at them.

They couldn’t help but smile back at you.

“Hi I’m (Y/N).”

“Saul silva.”

“Farah Dowling.”

You nodded your head and stood up.

“It’s nice to meet ya!”

You headed back to the kitchen to bin your apple and wash your hands before making your way back over and you moved the chair to sit next to your foster dad.

Bodi came padding over, and he sat next to you, resting his head on your leg as he looked up at you.

“Who’s that?” Saul asked softly.

“This is Bodi. He’s two. I found him under the porch a year ago.”

You looked at your foster parents.

“What’s going on?”

They shared a look and sighed softly, reaching out to take your hands in theirs.

“(Y/N), these.. these are your biological parents. You were taken from the hospital a few days after you were born.”

You furrowed your brows a little bit as you looked at them.

“We understand you’re confused, but we have everything from police reports, posters, some photos. If you want to look through them before we carry on talking.” Farah asked.

You nodded and she handed them over and you sat on the floor to look over them all.

Bodi laid next to you, resting his head on your legs as you ran your fingers through his fur while you read over everything.

No one said anything, and you set the final paper down after an hour and looked up.

“So.. I was just.. taken..?” You asked quietly.

Saul got up and walked over, crouching down in front of you, but shuffled back when your dog got up and growled at him.

Placing a hand in Bodi’s back to make him stop, you looked at the man.

“We had gone home to get some rest, and the hospital never told us until we got there the next day. We’ve spent a little over 17 years looking for you.”

Farah nodded her head and placed her hand on Saul’s shoulder.

“We never gave up, every summer and every Christmas we’d come looking for you. We had friends looking for you as well, it’s how we found you, but we wanted to speak to your foster parents before coming out.”

“You knew I was here?”

“We only found out a few months ago. If James and Kody weren’t okay with us coming out we would have waited until you were an adult before getting in contact with you. We didn’t want to overstep our boundaries, and we don’t want to now. Everything is in your hands.” Saul explained.

You slowly nodded your head and stood up, patting your hand against your thigh.

“I.. I need to go..”

Before anyone could stop you, you and Bodi were gone out the front door and Saul sighed, hanging his head low and Farah took his hand in hers.

“Just give them some time, I’m sure they’ll come around. Do you two have a place to stay?” Kody asked.

“No, we weren’t sure if we were going to be staying or not.” Farah sighed.

“Y’all can stay here, we got a spare room.” James smiled.

They spoke about it for a few moments before agreeing.

It was summer, and they still had some time until they had to go back to the school, the Saul and Farah agreed to stay.

You didn’t stay inside for the next week, you were always out, and they were finding it hard to talk to them.

Sitting on the fence, you watched the horses in the background while Bodi laid in the shade of your shadow.

“You need to give them a chance, they ain’t bad people.” Kody sighed.

“I know Kody it’s just… my whole life I wondered what it would be like to meet them.. it made it a whole lot easier just thinking they gave me up..”

He nodded his head.

“I understand that kiddo, but they’re really trying. They wanna get to know you.”

You sighed.

“I know…”

Kody pat your back and walked away to leave you sitting there, and you carried on watching the horses.

You heard someone else approach.

“You know I have horses..” Saul said quietly.

“Can you ride?”

“I can.” He nodded.

You turned around on the fence, looking at him and Farah.

Bodi got up, stretching a little as he sat down to look up at you.

“Can you?”

“I can stay hanging on if that counts.” She smiled.

You shrugged a little and looked back at the horses.

“Y’all probably can’t ride properly. If it ain’t the country way it’s the wrong way.”

“The country way?” Farah asked.

“Get James or Kody to bring the truck to the gate, I’ll show you how it’s done.”

They smiled and walked back to the house and you pointed to the other side of the fence for Bodi to crawl under and sit there.

You let out a loud whistle and one of the horses snapped it’s head towards you before running over, slowly to a walk as it got closer.

Running your fingers over the head of the brown horse you touched your head against the animals.

“Good girl.” You whispered.

Climbing on her back, you gently wove your fingers through her mane and clicked your tongue and she started to walk.

Bodi happily followed along, and as you got closer to the gate, you tapped her side with your hand, leaning forward and she broke into a slow run as you lead her through the gate.

“Bodi car.”

The Doberman barked and jumped into the truck bed and you stood next to it.

“Ready?” James asked.

“You bet.” You grinned.

Kody jumped in the tuck bed with Farah and Saul.

“Let’s go!” Kody yelled.

The truck drove slowly away, and you waited before you clicked your tongue again, letting the horse walk on to the grass next to the road.

Once she was on it you leant forward and tapped her side again, and she started to run.

You quickly caught up to the truck, and you cheered as you threw your hands into the air.

“Yes!” You yelled.

Saul and Farah smiled and laughed as they looked at you, and Farah took a photo.

You looked at them both with a grin.

“Bet y’all can’t do this!”

“I bet I can!” Saul called back.

You hummed, nodding your head and you held the horses mane again as you reached over, holding your hand out to him.

“Feeling brave?” You snickered.

“Oh Jesus Saul don’t.” Farah warned.

Saul shuffled over, and he slowly crouched on the truck bed, and he reached out, taking your hand and he jumped over.

He was nearly thrown to the side, but you hauled him back up and he sat behind you.

“We do it all the time! She’s a rodeo horse! She’s used to it!” You yelled.

“What’s a rodeo?” Saul asked.

“There’s one this weekend I’ll take you both!”

And you did.

You took them both to the rodeo, explaining everything to them, showing them what it was and what people did.

“Have you ever done this before?” Farah asked you.

Leaning against the fence, you nodded your head.

“Yes ma’am. Last year in fact, lassoed my first calf here.”

“You.. what?” She asked confused.

You snickered a little, pulling out your phone to show them a photo.

It turned out a lot of stuff you did every summer they hadn’t ever done, so you took them to most of them, letting them experience then and as it grew to the end of the holidays you found yourself sat down at the table again.

“We won’t force you to come to Alfea if you don’t want to. But it is just a simple boarding school, you can come home on Christmas and during the summer.” Farah asked

“But again, it is completely up to you. We will have to give you a few tests to figure out who’s side of the school you would attend.” Saul nodded.

You nodded your head.

You looked towards James and Kody, and they held their hands up.

“This is your choice. But this will always be your home no matter what you choose.” Kody smiled.

You frowned a little as you thought about it.

Part of you wanted to stay, this was your home, you loved it here.

But the other part wanted to go, to get to know your parents and see how they lived and get to know them some more.

“What.. what about Bodi.. I can’t leave him..”

You looked at the dog laying at your feet.

“You can bring Bodi too. We wouldn’t let you come and not let him come.” Saul smiled.

“Okay.. I Uhm..”

You trailed off as you thought again.

“I.. I want to try it for a few months. But if I don’t like it I can come back here, right?”

“Of course. Of course you can.” Farah smiled softly.

You nodded and left the table and her and Saul stood up to hug on another.

It wasn’t you coming back to them permanently, but they couldn’t take you away from the life you loved so much.

But it was a step.

A step to them having their child back in their lives again

[hideawaysplace]

So what did Vennesa,Freddy, and Gregory do after security breach

Gregory had never been in charge of a TV before, so he just skimped the channels, most of them were news channels, some early morning kids cartoons that were way too childish for him.

After a while he noticed Freddy was watching also, his eyes narrowing as he looked like he was trying to scan everything he was seeing.

“Have you… ever watched TV?”

“Not outside TV, we were never allowed,” Freddy replied, “We would watch performances, employee safety tapes and sometimes security footage when we were allowed. I once found an old video player and some videos, they were from previous generations of Fazbear animatronics! I must have watched this one particular one a million types, it was a black bear and he was playing a red accordion, he was playing so beautifully, his fingers were moving so elegantly, like he had trained for years, and he had such a friendly smile, it is very hard to find such a friendly face, I kept watching in hopes of learning accordion… I haven’t watched those tapes for years now…”

“Why not?” Gregory asked.

“I was caught watching them one day by the Pizzaplex manager, I was scolded, told those tapes should have destroyed years ago, they were all flawed, and bad influences on me, they were destroyed and I was told to never talk about it again, I never told anyone else about the tapes… I did not understand, some looked creepy, sure, that white and pink one did, but others looked so kind.”

“I think they were being dishonest.”

“No, they… they would not lie to me…” Freddy looked hurt, “They could not have…”

At that moment the door was unlocked, Vanessa walked in, dragging a tower of large boxes behind her, grunting as she slowly inched them inside her apartment.

“Are you alright Officer Vanessa?” Freddy asked.

“Just Vanessa, I’m going to be fired so no point in saying Officer anymore,” She huffed.

“You’ve been gone for a while,” Gregory said.

“Well I made a few stops along the way to get something to eat, I hope you like breakfast burritos, they might be cold but that’s what a microwave is for,” She closed the door behind her and took one box off the tower.

“What’s in the box? You didn’t bring the others here did you?”

“No they’re definitely too aggressive to bring here, hopefully they’ll snap out of it but I’m not sure,” Vanessa said, “I took some parts. I just need to assemble it,” Vanessa ripped into the box and pulled out a few items, immediately they noticed the familiar red shoulder pads, spiked bracelets and large paws.

“You took parts for me?!” Freddy barked, “Vanessa!!”

“The security cameras are busted, they’ll write it off unless they want the police to question why kids have disappeared in the plex. Plus you need a body to defend yourself and Gregory.”

“I guess so however-”

“However we can’t be sure whatever was controlling me isn’t going to be a problem, something is wrong in that place,” She walked to her small kitchen bench and prepared coffee, she glared over the newspaper, she knew it wasn’t today’s paper but she hadn’t seen one in a while so she was curious what had happened in the meantime.

The major headline was about a strange entity appearing at night, so nothing unusual, she flicked through the pages, seeing sport headlines, some local wholesome stories, and a packet of coupons.

She did like some deals, so she glanced over them.

20% OF LAUNDRY LOAD AT HAPPY WASH.

GET A FAMILY SIZE TUB OF ICE CREAM FROM BROWN COW FOR HALF PRICE WHEN SPENDING $30 OR MORE.

TWO LARGE PIZZAS, A SIDE DISH OF PASTA, A SIDE OF GARLIC BREAD, DESSERT AND A LARGE BOTTLE OF COVE COOLER FOR $35, ONLY AVAILABLE AT ROCKSTAR’S PIZZA PLACE.

She stared at the last coupon a little longer than usual, something about the cartoon black bear with a red hat was for whatever reason sending alarm bells in her head.

Her vision turned fuzzy for a minute and she swore she saw the words:

DO NOT ENGAGE.

“Vanessa…?” Freddy asked, concerned.

She brought herself back, she stared longer at the bear, something was off about it, she remembered something, somewhere in her mind, a dream or a memory, it was a warning about something.

She placed the coupon down.

“It’s nothing, let’s eat breakfast, then I can fix your body!” She walked away.

[wonderlandleighleigh]

(Hello, Sunshine, October 13th, 1965)

When he opens his eyes in the morning, he’s forty.

And that’s a very strange thing to be, Lenny thinks. Because he could have sworn that yesterday he was twelve.

Or nineteen.

Or twenty-five.

He’s not quite sure, but yesterday, he was- 

Well, he was fucking thirty-nine is what he was, and now he’s not, and that feels so odd, but not odd at all.

When he turns his head, he finds Midge, eyes just opened, smiling at him adoringly. 

“It’s raining,” he tells her.

She smiles wider. “Happy birthday, Lenny.” 

He sighs and looks back up at the ceiling. “I suppose it is.” 

“Feeling maudlin this morning, I see,” Midge teases, sitting up on her elbow to gaze down at him. 

Lenny meets her eyes again and takes a breath. “Time is fake.” 

She laughs softly and groans. “Not this again. If you’re going to talk yourself in circles about time being a man-made invention, You’re not getting the orgasm I was planning to give you this morning.” 

He lights up, sitting up as well. “Let’s not be hasty.” 

Midge giggles and tugs on him, kissing him slowly, and he gets lost in the feeling of her. This woman he married two years ago. Who has made the most terrible bits of his life bearable. Who makes him laugh. Whom he loves so much it hurts sometimes. Who had their baby last year. Who continues to love him despite his being - well - him. 

The promised release melts him down. His vision whites out for a long moment, and his entire body quakes with it, and he loves this woman so fucking much it’s unreal. 

But he’s glad it actually isn’t unreal. 

***** 

The kids do their best to make him breakfast with Kitty leading the charge, and he gets toast and eggs, which he eats between feeding Lily her breakfast - bites of sweet potato baby food, which is her favorite.

“I have a lawyer meeting this morning,” he tells Midge as she pours him more coffee. 

She blinks and turns to him. “It’s your birthday.” 

“Yes,” he confirms. “And I would like to spend some of it trying to make certain I don’t go to jail.” 

Midge huffs, but pecks his lips. “Fine. Just be home for dinner.” 

“I can do that.” He freezes and turns to look at her. “You’re not...planning anything. Are you?” 

Midge blinks innocently at him, blue eyes wide. “Me? No.” 

The giggles that bubble up from Kitty and Esther say otherwise, and Lenny lifts an eyebrow at his wife. 

“Midge...” 

“I’m making your favorite,” she tells him. “Roasted chicken. Tzimmes. Knish.” 

“Uh-huh...”

“And...maybe my parents and Noah and Astrid and Chaim are coming over,” she adds. 

“Okay...”

“And...Maybe I invited Shy and Jerome. And Gordon and Neena.” 

“Midge.” 

“It’s not a party.” 

He rubs his face. “No?”

“Nope! Just dinner. With gifts. And nice wine.” 

Lenny sighs softly and nods. “Okay. But no games. And no more people, right?” 

“No more people,” she promises. “Susie.” 

“Jesus.” 

“I can’t not invite Susie!” 

“Fine.” 

Kitty giggles again. “Don’t be such a grump, Daddy. It’ll be fun!” 

“Just as long as no one sings,” Lenny orders. “No singing. I don’t want the song.” 

“Not even if Shy sings it and gives you a lap dance?” Midge jokes.

“...Maybe then,” Lenny considers with a lap. 

“What’s a lap dance?” Esther asks.

“I don’t explain awkward things to children on my birthday,” Lenny announces, as he wipes Lily’s face gently. 

***** 

The lawyers go easy on him. It’s his birthday after all. So while they get work done, they’re much more willing to not treat him like he doesn’t know shit, and it goes pretty well. 

They break for lunch, and he meets Jo-Jo and Allan for a bite, grabbing some bagel sandwiches from Russ and Daughters, eating under an awning as the rain keeps pouring down.

“How does forty feel?” Jo-Jo asks.

Lenny shrugs. “Could be worse, I guess.” 

“Get anything get yet?” Allan asks. 

Lenny smirks.

“You dog,” Jo-Jo laughs. “Good for you, Lenny.” 

“Midge continues to be the best,” Lenny tells them. “But she’s throwing this dinner tonight, like I don’t know it’s a party.” 

“Oh uh...yeah,” Allan says awkwardly.

Lenny blinks and turns to them. “What do you mean yeah?” 

Jo-Jo clears his throat. “Nothing.” 

“Fuck, how many people did she invite?” 

“Not that many,” Allan assures him. “Just. Y’know. Your friends. Her friends. You married a woman who likes to throw parties!” 

“Honey liked to throw parties too, I just wasn’t ever invited,” Lenny half-jokes. He sighs and looks at his watch. “I gotta get back. I guess I’ll see you two idiots tonight.” 

Allan smiles at him. “See ya then!” 

***** 

He gets home in the afternoon and slumps against the door, closing his eyes briefly. The kids are all still at school, other than Lily. She’s napping in the playpen in the living room, and Lenny settles down on the floor next to her, watching her for a long time. 

Lily is really something. A smart baby with curls like his but lighter in color like Midge’s. His eyes, sharp and a little dark. She’s sweet, and funny and she doesn’t do a lot of crying. 

She’s so happy, and Lenny likes to think he has something to do with that. 

“Hey, you’re home,” Midge smiles as she leans into the room. “How did things go?” 

“Fine,” he nods, gazing up at her. “I had lunch with Jo-Jo and Allan.” 

“That’s nice,” she smiles. 

“You invited them to dinner,” Lenny says, smirking up at her with a quirked eyebrow.

“Did I?” she asks innocently. “Huh. I guess I did.” 

“Midge.” 

“It’s your birthday.” 

“Yes.”

“You’re forty, it’s a big milestone,” she reminds him. “I just want it to be special.” 

Lenny sighs and nods for her to come join him on the floor, which she does, sitting next to him. He wraps an arm around her. “I don’t want to seem ungrateful. But it would have been special if it had been just us and the kids.” 

“I know.” 

He sighs and gazes at her. “Will there at least be cake?” 

Midge nods. “I ordered one from the bakery you love in Harlem.” 

“I do like cake,” Lenny tells her, smiling. 

She smiles back, pulling him into a soft kiss. “It’s going to be fun.” 

“You didn’t invite the Maisels, did you?” 

She bites her lip. 

Lenny squeezes his eyes shut. 

“I had to! Lan is Ethan and Esther’s half brother, and Mei and I are still friends...and my parents are still friends with Moishe and Shirley...” 

He sighs heavily. “Joel gets the last slice of cake.” 

“Joel begged off,” Midge tells him. “He has paperwork at the club with Archie.” 

“So just Imogene is coming.” 

“Yes.” 

“Midge.” 

“I know! I can’t help myself.” 

“Carley and Deanna coming, too?” 

“Yep.” 

“Bonnie and Jill and Jeff in town?” 

“No. They’re still in Malibu.” 

“Thank fuck for small miracles.” 

***** 

They have dinner with Midge’s parents and Noah, Astrid and Chaim, and then the other guests start showing up. 

It really is a nice party, and it is definitely a party. 

Lenny decides not to mingle, staking a claim in one of the chairs in the living room with a drink, chatting with people as they mill around. Midge attempts to put a birthday hat on him which he threatens to cover his crotch with to get her to stop.

That works. 

There are gifts. Mostly books. 

“Joel thought he was being funny and wanted to get you a prison jumpsuit,” Mei tells him. “I figured the drink tickets at the Button were a better bet.” 

“Thank you for that,” Lenny chuckles, shaking his head. “You tell Joel he can suck my-” 

“Nope!” Midge chirps. “Don’t finish that sentence, he’s not even here to hear it.” 

The kids get herded off to bed eventually, Kitty and Esther in their room, and Lily in hers, while Lan and Chaim crash in Ethan’s room. Gordon and Neena leave early, which isn’t like Gordon, but they’ve got a little boy who’s Lily’s age, and so they decide to get him home.

Shy does sing for Lenny when the cake comes out, because he just cannot help himself, and Lenny shakes his head at the singer. 

“Thank you for that, can I have this cake now please?” 

It’s a chocolate cake with a ganache frosting and a cherry pie filling, and Lenny sighs, satisfied as Midge feeds him a bite. 

“I should have married Marni over at that bakery,” he tells her. “God that’s good.” 

“I’ll tell her you’re thinking about polygamy the next time I’m over there,” Midge jokes.

“Miriam, really,” her mother admonishes. 

“It’s a joke, Mama,” she reminds her. “Remember? I tell jokes?” 

The rest of the night goes pretty well. Shy and his boyfriend Jerome are the last to leave. Jerome helps Midge with the dishes while Shy and Lenny sit out in the living room with one last drink. 

“I did not want this party,” Lenny chuckles, shaking his head. “I don’t really like parties.” 

“Shut up, you had fun,” Shy says. “You got a little drunk, you ate excellent cake. Got to see your friends and some family.” 

Lenny shrugs. “Would have been just as happy with just dinner.” 

“Would you?” 

Lenny considers that, looking around at the disorganized living room they’ll have to finish straightening up in the morning. 

“Mhm,” Shy snickers. He finishes his drink and gets to his feet. “Happy birthday, Lenny. I’m taking my boyfriend home.” 

He gets to his feet and shakes the other man’s hand. “Thanks, Shy.” 

After they’re gone, he finds Midge still in the kitchen, hard at work. 

“Leave it for tomorrow,” he mutters, stepping up behind her and wrapping his arms around her middle. “Birthday boy’s orders.” 

Midge rests against him, slowly pulling her dish gloves off. “Ready for bed?” 

Lenny nods, ducking down to kiss her neck. “Mhm.” 

“Ready for something else, maybe,” she teases, pressing back against him, making him moan softly. 

“I’ve been found out,” he grins against her skin. “Thank you for this. I know I complained, but it really was nice.” 

She turns in his arms and gazes up at him, reaching up to stroke his jaw. “Happy birthday, Lenny. I love you.” 

Lenny sighs softly. “I love you, too. And I would like to maybe show my appreciation for all of this. In our bedroom.” 

Midge smirks, and takes his hand, tugging him towards the door, clicking off the lights.

[aeoki]

New Start GO! - Sunny Day: Chapter 2

Location: Park

Characters: Hajime, Tomoya, Mitsuru & Nazuna

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ< After some time. >

Tomoya: Nii-chan, Hajime, sorry we’re late!

We didn’t know what things to buy so we ended up taking up more than we thought.

Mitsuru: We bought heaps of stuff, y’know! I figured you could get some energy back after eating some bread, so we bought a lot of different ones~

Ohh? It looks like they’re opening up to Nii-chan…?

Hajime: Hehe. If that’s how it looks to you, Mitsuru-kun, then I’m glad. …We just talked about ourselves, though.

Tomoya: ? I thought you were listening to what he had to say? Is that not what’s happening right now?

Hajime: Yeah. We thought it would be difficult for him to trust us all of a sudden, so we’re telling him about “Ra*bits”.

Nazuna: If we’re gonna get someone to tell us about themselves, then we should start from ourselves. So we told him everything from when we first teamed up.

Honestly, it just looked like I was just forcing him to listen to me, but I’m glad he found it interesting.

Thanks to that, it seems he’s not feeling so down anymore.

I just learnt that he’s  the same age as me. He told me I don’t need to be so polite with him, so it felt like we grew closer than before.

Mitsuru: Ahaha, he seems less gloomy now!

On second thought, it really looks like talking about “Ra*bits” was effective~

We were complete beginners back then, but I’m sure those stories of how we ran through the entertainment industry would be really interesting for an outsider to hear, y’know!

Tomoya: It also feels sudden and strange that we’re working in the entertainment industry like this.

A year ago… No, it’s almost two years now, huh. We’ve never made so many mistakes in such a short period of time, so time really feels like it just flew by.

Hajime: Do you feel like talking about yourself now?

We’re really worried about why you were crying alone.

Nazuna: …You want to quit? Why is that…?

Hmm. You keep making mistakes and are causing trouble to everyone around you?

Tomoya: Everyone says “it can’t be helped because you’re new”, but you’re fed up with how incompetent you feel…? Well, I’d say the same applies to us too.

It makes you hate yourself more and you notice that everyone is still nice to you about it, right? It just makes you wish you were more competent, doesn’t it?

Maybe this won’t apply to Mitsuru since he’s got good track and field skills, but we’re also kids who had nothing going for them apart from the fact that we’re obedient.

We were able to gain experience thanks to our surroundings, so sometimes, I think we’re lucky that we were able to grow in some way or another.

Hajime: Yeah. Things like the environment at Yumenosaki or our relationships with others… Those things supported us when we were beginners.

I don’t know if you know this but this “producer”, Anzu-san, is also someone who has treated us very well all this time.

I hope you can find someone like that at the company too.

Mitsuru: So, how about it? Is there a senior employee you respect or a colleague you can talk to?

You’re shy so not really? If anything, the workplace feels really pleasant, so you feel bad that you’re just causing them nothing but trouble…?

Hmm, I can see why you’d wanna quit. It’s hard if no one can understand how difficult it can feel when you keep making mistakes at work…

Nazuna: Yeah. You feel like you’re alone with no support, huh.

But even so, the workplace isn’t school. It’s not a place to make friends, so there’s nothing you can do but to continue working to gain their trust.

Tomoya: You’re right. I wish we could do something to help.

There’s a lot of work left we have to do, so that means all we can do is listen to your troubles…

It’s a shame we can’t do anything, but I think we’d be causing you trouble too if we give you empty promises. 

You’re happy just knowing that we care about you…?

No no, we’re the ones who brought you here and wanted to get involved. We’re sorry we can’t help much.

Nazuna: But this is troubling~ We want to help you right away, but we shouldn’t be away from the office for too long.

I think the best thing we can do right now is finish our work for the day and then have a strategic meeting tomorrow. How does that sound?

Hajime: Um, may I say something?

Nazuna: ? 

What’s up, Hajime-chin? Is there something on your mind~?

Hajime: No no, I just have a suggestion.

Could we talk with the TV staff directly about this?

Tomoya: Huh? Talk about this with the TV staff?

Hajime: Yes. We’ll work with the new employee and make up for the parts we’re both lacking in. Just like how we’ve done up until now at the company.

Mitsuru: That’s a bold suggestion, Hajime-chan! How did you come up with that idea?

Hajime: Umm, it’s hard to explain in a few words, but…

I’ve been thinking about what sort of idol I want to be.

Nii-chan chose to balance being a university student and an idol. He took a break from “Ra*bits” in order to see the outside world and then he came back.

Mitsuru-kun is a very cool and popular drama actor. Tomoya-kun is also making good use of his acting experience and has appeared in a number of plays.

I’m still searching for myself in comparison.

“Ra*bits” is a unit whose selling point is being cute and we’ve had to show our cute side numerous times now.

But I’m still thinking about what kind of idol I want to be.

I don’t know the answer yet but I think I know what kind of idol I don’t want to be.

I know that meeting the adult's expectations and completing “New Start Go” as planned is what a professional does.

I also know that a scary part of the entertainment industry is that you can be fired if people find you difficult to work with.

But those weren’t the kind of people who saved me – It was people like Nii-chan or Akehoshi-senpai who stuck to their beliefs.

So… Don’t think it’s all set in stone already. Let’s talk to the staff, okay?

I have a feeling if we “obedient children” stay this way, we’ll end up having to put up with doing the things we don’t want to do.

I–I’m sorry for talking for so long. I ended up going in circles, huh.

Nazuna: Not at all. I understand what you’re trying to say, Hajime-chin.

Working doesn’t mean doing everything you’re told to do. It’s our job as a member of society to think things through properly before achieving results.

I’ve got an idea. Would you want to help me out with it?

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂  Next Chapter →

[upsidedown-cats]

Being Human

Also available on ao3!

Bokuto's memory was spotty at the best of times, but the discussion he'd had with Akaashi in his third year, a week after nationals, was burned into his head.

They’d been sitting on a bench after school, waiting for Bokuto's bus, when, hands trembling, Akaashi had abruptly turned to him and said, "You know I'm in love with you, right?"

I do now. “No," he said. "But I'm in love with you too, it's just- Well, I don't- I don't think I can be in a relationship with you right now."

Akaashi tilted his head at him adorably, and Bokuto was immediately reminded of an owl. Focus, this is important.

"I do love you," he repeated. "But you know about my mental health. How bad it is. It’s not- I don’t think I could handle a relationship. I don’t think it would be good for me. But, well, maybe someday. Is that okay? Are you mad at me?”

Akaashi gave him a rare smile. “That’s very mature of you, Bokuto-san.”

“I’m always mature!” He made sure to laugh, so Akaashi knew he was joking and not annoyed.

“I promise I’m not mad at you,” Akaashi said. “I know you’ll worry about that. But I’m not, and I understand completely.”

“Thank you. And, well, I guess we’ll see where life takes us, right?”

The trip to Akaashi’s college seemed to take forever, even though it was only about an hour and a half. Bokuto was worked up, full of nervous energy. He was headed to Akaashi’s place for the weekend, but all he could think about was his therapy session three days ago.

Bokuto had mentioned Akaashi, and how excited he was to visit him, and somehow they had gotten on the topic of their relationship. He’d told his therapist about that conversation already, and she’d said, “You’ve told me before that you plan to ask him out when your mental health gets better. What do you think that will look like?”

Taken aback, Bokuto thought about it, and finally admitted, “I don’t know.”

She smiled a little bit at that. “Compared to two years ago, I’d say you’re doing a lot better. What do you think?”

“Well, yeah, but how do I know if I’m stable enough to be in a relationship?”

“You don’t, not before you try it.”

He frowned. “Is that too impulsive? What if it goes wrong? What if Akaashi never talks to again?”

“I know it seems strange, but sometimes it’s okay to be impulsive. Constantly taking unnecessary risks isn’t healthy, but neither is never trying anything. And if you start on the what ifs, you’ll go forever. Remember, what if it goes wonderfully?”

Bokuto wrapped his arms around himself, squeezing his torso, and said, “What do I do?”

“Only you can decide that. You won’t always know what the best thing to do is, and that’s part of being human. I’m not telling you to start a relationship, but it might be good to think about.”

Bokuto had walked out of the room in a sort of daze, mind racing in a way that made him feel like he was in high school again. Akaashi was still his best friend, but they’d never talked about love after that day.

As he switched from a bus to the train, he worried that Akaashi had moved on. After all, it had been two years. He’d said back then that he wasn’t upset with Bokuto, but that didn’t mean he still wanted to try. Maybe he’d ruined his only chance with Akaashi. Bringing it up now would be a bad idea. It would just make everything awkward and ruin the friendship they had now.

By the time Bokuto was knocking on the door, he had resolved not to do it. He couldn't risk losing everything.

Appearing in the entrance, Akaashi welcomed him in, and Bokuto hugged him tightly. Akaashi seemed like the kind of person to be less tactile, but in reality, especially after they moved apart from each other, he was just as physically affectionate as Bokuto was.

Akaashi lived alone, and he’d already made lunch for the two of them, so right away they sat down to eat, and Bokuto pulled out his laptop to set up their favorite show. This was their usual when they met at Akaashi’s place. Bokuto always left at the same time; during his train ride, Akaashi prepared their food. Once he arrived, they ate and watched their favorite show together. After they finished eating, their visits differed, but it was comforting to start with that routine.

Bokuto was pretty sure Akaashi was being quieter than normal. He might be imagining it, but something seemed off about him. He was debating whether or not to mention it as they finished eating and began to put the dishes away, but Akaashi spoke first.

"Bokuto-san, what's wrong?"

He froze. Of course that was it. Akaashi always noticed how he was feeling, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. He probably picked up on it the moment Bokuto arrived, but waited to see if he was going to bring it up.

You won’t always know what the best thing to do is, and that’s part of being human. Bokuto took a deep breath. “Do you remember when you told me you were in love with me?”

Akaashi clearly hadn’t been expecting that. He looked at him for a moment, and then cautiously said, “Yes?”

Tapping his fingers on his thighs, Bokuto said, “Well, um, I was thinking the other day, I mean, my therapist was the one to bring it up, but, well, I was just wondering if- if you still were.”

“Yes,” Akaashi replied instantly. “I am. Completely and utterly.”

“Oh.” Bokuto’s voice was small. “Okay.”

Clearly anxious, Akaashi waited while Bokuto worked up the courage to keep going.

“So, my therapist and I were talking, uh, about, you know, me. And, well, two years ago- two years ago was- I mean, I’ve made a lot of progress. With my brain. I don’t spiral as often anymore. And I’m not so dependent on you to help me. So, uh-”

“Breathe. Take your time,” Akaashi said.

Bokuto inhaled deeply, closing his eyes and trying to reset. After a few seconds, he exhaled and spoke again, more confidently this time. “I was thinking, that maybe, if you wanted, I would like to try to be in a relationship with you. If you want, of course, I don’t mean to pressure you.”

Akaashi just stared, worrying Bokuto, but he kept quiet, letting Akaashi think, like he had done for him.

Finally, he said, “I would like to. Yes. Please. Of course.”

A surge of happiness went through Bokuto, and he laughed brightly. Akaashi smiled at him, taking his hands and squeezing them.

“I love you,” Bokuto said, pressing his forehead to Akaashi’s. “I love you.”

Akaashi’s eyes shone as he said, whispering breathlessly, “I love you too.” Then, leaning forward, he kissed Bokuto.

[sh4dowsdi3]

Interview: 2 (Llydia)

Word count: 974

Content warnings: Implied abuse

Synopsis: Llydia tells us about the strange man (or rather, thing) she met in the bathroom.

[8:30 am; We’re in a coffee shop on campus at the request of Llydia. She’s sitting across from me, sipping on a cup of iced water. She’s looking around the shop and hasn’t made eye contact with me at all.]

(Okay, let’s get started. Tell me about yourself.)

My name is Llydia Summerton. I’m 23 years old and I like reading and writing poetry.

(Okay, now, tell me your story.)

Well, I’m kind of a paranoid person. I’m very cautious when I’m in public; always checking my surroundings, making sure someone knows where I am, all of that stuff. Being a woman, I’ve learned the hard way that the world isn’t kind. When I was 15 my boyfriend used to… I was in an abusive relationship. Ever since then, I’ve been more reserved and a bit paranoid. I don’t want you to think I’m crazy or that I just imagined this because I’m 99% sure that this really happened.

One time, a couple months ago, I got out of class late because I needed to talk to my professor about one of our assignments. By the time I actually got out, the hallways were dead silent and empty.

(Can you tell me about what time you got out of class?)

It was around 6pm. I usually eat dinner at around 6 so I was starving at that point. I get anxious when I’m hungry so I went to the bathroom to wash my face and calm down. Then I ended up actually needing to pee.

I really hate that bathroom. There’s no lights above the stalls so it’s dim and creepy. Anyways, as I’m sitting on the toilet, I can hear the faucet dripping slowly. I wasn’t even peeing, I was just daydreaming. It was so silent that I could hear the lights buzzing. It was really cold too. I started breathing through my mouth to see if I could see my breath. For a solid minute I was just focusing on my breath. In and out, in and out, in and out…

Then I heard someone else breathing.

When they inhaled it was harsh and had a slight wheeze. When they exhaled it was soft and slow. I was frozen. I didn’t hear the door open and I was sure that no one was already in the bathroom when I came in. My eyes were getting dry from not blinking. Without moving my head, I looked below the stall door. Two bare feet. They didn’t look dirty and the toe nails were neatly cut. Then, slowly, I raised my head and looked above the door.

(Note: Llydia is picking at the skin on her fingers. Her ring finger on her left hand has started bleeding slightly.)

It was a head. It looked like a man but he looked weird. Do you know anything about the uncanny valley?

(I’ve heard of it, but please explain it to me.)

It’s basically when something looks so much like a human, but not quite. That’s why so many people are afraid of dolls or mannequins. There was something off about that man. His expression was blank. His eyes weren’t focused on anything and his smile… It was too wide. Like something was stretching his lips back.

Then he started climbing over the stall. I practically fell off the toilet trying to put my pants back on. He moved like a puppet. His arms were impossibly long and moved sporadically but his face kept that same bizarre expression. No person’s body should bend the way his did. He was hanging over the door and was reaching out towards me. I was huddled at the very back of the stall and his fingers still managed to graze my lips. I just- I couldn’t-

(Do you need a moment to compose yourself?)

Yeah. I’m sorry, I just feel sick.

[Llydia takes a big gulp of her water and chews on the ice.]

I couldn’t even scream for help. All I could do was cry. Snot and tears were running down my face. I didn’t know what to do! I cried so hard that my chest hurt.

Then he went limp. The feeling of his fingers falling down my body made me sick. I thought I was going to vomit. Everything was still for a second then his body flopped back over to the other side of the door. It was like someone was dragging him away. He made a fleshy thud when he hit the ground.

I didn’t hear the door open so I sat there for at least ten minutes before I checked to see if he was gone. I kind of peeked under the stall door on my hands and knees. No one was there so I just… got up, washed my hands, dried my face with some paper towels, and fixed myself up. But yeah… that’s my story.

(How did the rest of your night go?)

I didn’t eat. I just went back to my dorm and lied in bed. I didn’t eat breakfast the day after, or lunch, or dinner. I was so tired and starving. At some point during the night I ate some granola bars then I fell asleep. I remember that because I woke up feeling so groggy and sick.

Nothing like this has happened since though. I feel like I’m going crazy. Maybe school just isn’t for me. Maybe I should just drop out and go home… I don’t know what I would do back home though. Thank you for letting me get this off my chest.

(Thank you for sharing)

I’m so tired. I know I’m not going to drop out though. Crazy people can live somewhat normal lives right? I doubt that something this freaky will happen twice. I’m just going to keep my head down and graduate.

[End]

[theliterateape]

The Inner Monologue is Making Me Nuts

by Don Hall

I'm having a hard time getting motivated.

Sure, I need to give myself a break—I'm in that specific yet incredibly common place in life when the life I was living turned out to be a fiction and, you know, it takes time to recover. The Japanese proverb (Proverb? Saying? Adage?) that tells me to "Fall down seven times, get up eight" is good and all but I'm finding it difficult to get up.

I listen to podcasts but find that after the conversation I'm hearing ends, I can't recall much of what was said. Abruptly spending far more of my time alone has brought out a few strange behaviors. I turn the television news on and just leave it on so that they sound of voices is just present in the apartment. I talk to myself and tend to refer to the one person in the room as 'we.' As in "We need to get some control on the random snacking," or "Today, we're going to pump out 5,000 words." It isn't really the royal 'we' but more like the 'we' of Charleston Heston in Omega Man or the Wilson of Castaway. Just a few clicks away from the guy standing on the corner jabbering about the mind control coming from the traffic lights and drawing made-up hieroglyphs with his shit on the sidewalk.

Roughly six years ago, I stopped smoking cigarettes and started smoking a pipe. This was less a choice and more a response to the hectoring from the stranger I married but I can't say I regretted it. I like the pipes. I like the reaction I get smoking an old school pipe. It smells like nostalgia. "You smell like my grandpa." As soon as the fiction I had been living was exposed, waking up from a seven year coma like a 2022 version of Rip Van Winkle, I went out and bought a pack of smokes. I suppose in part because I could now smoke in the house as an act of defiance, in part as a "Fuck you" to her. A few months later, I'm still smoking cigarettes. I tell myself "We're smoking to reclaim who we were before all this happened. Sense memory experimentation." As if the act of pulling out a stinky square can bring back the self assurance and confidence I used to wear like a cape.

I'm distracted by the news. Sitting down to write, I find myself writing a sentence, staring at it, then jumping in to check my email which almost always spam, taking a beat to clean out the spam, spending five minutes playing the free Blackjack game in my iPad, then checking the many feeds for any new news. Back to the sentence. I delete it and write another, slightly reworded. Then I check out the Indeed job board for gigs either remote or specific to Denver or Wichita. I get some coffee. I think a moment about the food I'll eat later and how many calories it will attach to my expanding gut. "OK. We maybe need to just crank out 3,000 words today. We'll make up the balance tomorrow."

I check my dwindling bank balance. I do some cursory math to see how long I can manage to keep my bills paid until someone knocks on the door to ask me to join my feces hieroglyphicist on the corner. Back to the sentence. I look up at the iPad and realize that Meghan Daum has been talking for the last hour on her new podcast and I haven't listened to a single word and I debate whether or not to restart it or whether it was important enough to listen to again.

The night before last, I went to bed at a reasonable, adult time, but brought the iPad in with me. I decided to browse Netflix and found Snowflake Mountain. A reality series (I love reality tv) with two hosts who are former military, survivalist types who bring ten Gen Z stereotypes of lazy, sensitive, entitled idiots and teach them through challenges and instruction to be adults. It's funny and salty, lots of fat and sugar, and I binge the entire show until 5am. Thus, my sleep cycle is fucked but I'm flooded with the exact lessons I'm desperately in need of in this period—Responsibility, Self Respect, Motivation. Get up offa your ass and get the routine back in focus.

I take walks most days despite the feeling that Nevada in summer is like living in a giant toaster oven. I've noticed a trend. The first half of the walk has my inner monologue obsessing on the failed marriage, the red flags I ignored, the feeling that she has moved past the divorce so quickly and cleanly, with little to no consequence, that I am nothing more than disposable like a used Starbucks lid or a cached out lighter. The second half becomes a Great Santini speech in my head, barking at me to quit being such a pussy, get the fuck over it, get back into the gym, Gimme fifty pushups NOW!

I always feel better after the second half of the walk but then there's the sentence that isn't gonna write itself, motherfucker!

When I thought I'd perhaps stay in Vegas, I submitted volunteer applications to several causes here. It takes longer than I thought it would because everyone wants a background check before letting you show up and help with abandoned dogs or help in a Food bank. Odd that I could buy a rifle in less time than I can volunteer for a homeless shelter here but these are odd times. I'm less interested in volunteering because I'm leaving. No desire to create new relationships when I'm up and outta here in less than two months.

Yeah, I know I told myself that this whole divorce was something I would just compartmentalize and move on. I’m the sort of person that others see as impenetrable, tough-minded, and, as David called me “a pitbull.” Given my track record, this is objectively true most of the time. I always tend to land on my feet but, gang, this is hard. It may be harder than my previous divorces because of the outrageous circumstances, it may be hard because I was completely convinced we would work. It might be that I’m just getting older and the energy required to just get over it is dwindling. Whatever the case, it’s fucking hard.

No. This is not some cry for help. David also makes a convincing case that getting this sort of stuff off my chest and into the world is a net-positive. I’m not looking for sympathy, empathy, or even a freaking hug. This is simply the inner monologue (which is driving me nuts).

I get the sense I'm simply filling the time. To get through the next few weeks in order to get busy packing. To get as far away from her as possible. I'm biding my time. I don't know if I ever bided time before. Waiting for time to spin itself out so I can start moving forward again. I get the sense that I can't move forward until I'm no longer living 25-feet from her. That's probably sensible.

"We should go to the pool today." "We need to generate 1,000 words today." "We should do some intermittent fasting today." "Jesus—NPR has become insufferable!" "We should read some fiction."

But first, we're going to stare at this sentence some more.

I'm having a hard time getting motivated.

NOTE: Apparently just writing this has me finding the motivation. Go figure.

[primofate]

im feeling kinda akward since its my first time requesting,i really really really like your writings and im wondering if you could do some angst for albedo, anything you feel like tbh, but if may i be a little selfish i was thinking on something like he hurt you, so you break up with him or maybe he break up with you and regret later, im in love with the genius and your writings so why not lol, hope you are doing well, xoxoxooxox

Thanks for the request anon. <3 Sorry it took so long, but I’m feeling angst today so here goes. Let me know what you think <3

QUEUED POST

Scenario: Breaking up

Characters: gn! reader x Albedo

Warnings: angst, break ups, regrets, did I say angst?

Categories: angst in Part 1, comfort in Part 2 (It was getting too long so split it into two parts)

Read: (Part 2) (Part 3 - Final)

Albedo

Alone.

These days you found yourself alone in your shared home. It had been nearly a year since the two of you decided to live together. Maybe that was a bad idea.

You were smitten. He was such an intelligent man, and truth be told you loved how his mind worked. He was silent and mostly kept to himself at first, but with you, there were subtle touches, fleeting kisses. Oh and his eyes, the way his eyes brightened or the way his lips turned up at the sight of you. The way he held you close at nights, up until the morning.

Gone were those days. 

He was hardly home. The intelligent man you had fallen in love with, was also a workaholic. Perhaps you should’ve seen it coming. There were so many signs.

Maybe he changed. Maybe you changed. But the little things weren’t enough anymore. He came home just to sleep and wake up, and he was off again. 

“Bedo, have you got some time off on the weekend? We haven’t been up to Starsnatch Cliff in a while,” you had prodded him a few days ago, wondering if the problem would be solved if you made the first move. 

“Sorry, Y/N, we’re just about to discover more about the properties of electro crystals... It’ll be useful if we want to sustain higher energy concentrations on...” and just like that he had gone off a tangent explaining the whole thing. You smiled a little, it was still endearing how excited he got discussing those things. 

But you couldn’t help but be lonely at how he seemed to love his research more than you. 

‘Maybe I just need to be more proactive. That’s it! I’ll go and visit him at the lab today!’ Surprising him was one of the things that you had always wanted to do. But not a lot of things got past Albedo. He was observant like that. You made a quick run to the bakery, getting him some croissants and welcomed yourself into the Favonius Headquarters. 

You looked up at the sign on his laboratory door. That sign was always there though, Klee had told you about it, and Sucrose had also talked about it once or twice before, telling you that it wouldn’t be a good idea to go in if the sign was up. But when was it ever down? So, you shrugged, and pushed the door open with a wide smile.

“What are you doing here?!” There’s a wild look in Albedo’s eyes the moment you step in. He didn’t appreciate being disturbed. You tilted your head a little at his reaction, you weren’t expecting that.

“Oh, since you’ve been so busy these days I just thought I’d drop by and give you something to--”

“Y/N, did you not see the sign on the door? No disturbances, even from you,”

“I’ll just be quick, I’m just dropping this off,” you lift the paper bag from the bakery and lay it down on the nearest table. Albedo closes his eyes with a sigh. 

“...We’re working on something dangerous right now, I don’t have time to eat. Please take it back,”

Surprisingly, you obey quite quickly, and take the paper bag back into your hands. Annoyance start to pulse in your veins. “Anything else you want me to do? Maybe disappear so I don’t bother you or your research so much?”

Sucrose had been standing there the whole time, and you can see the slight wince on her face at your cold statement... But Albedo had returned it ten fold, snapping an answer back. “Yes, Y/N, that would be excellent, don’t get in the way. Stop being irritating at the wrong moment,”

You didn’t expect how much it would sting. Your shoulders slump downwards at the realization that this... had gone too far. You couldn’t take it anymore. Sucrose opens her mouth, but doesn’t know what to say looking back and forth between you and Albedo. 

The Kreideprinz had continued with his task as if nothing had happened at all, but he knew what he said. He didn’t want any interferences nor accidents happening in the lab and that was the only thing he cared about at the moment. 

Your foot moves to step back, but your eyes are glued to Albedo. You can only see his back. His hair tied up neatly, the shoulders that you loved to wrap your arms around and his hands that were always gentle. You took a good look, drinking the whole scene in like you hadn’t had a drop of water in days. 

This was the last time you would lay eyes on him and it broke you into so many pieces. You turned away without another word, Sucrose staring at the door, before she decided that she needed to follow you. “I-I’ll be back, Master Albedo,” she rarely ever abandoned an experiment, but she knew that you needed a friend right now. 

Ironic, because it should have been Albedo running after you, but instead the green-haired girl caught up to you just as you reached the fountain in the middle of Mondstadt. “Y/N!” she jogs, and stops when you do as you hear your name.

Tears prickled your cheeks, but they were more of frustration than sadness. You stand there for a moment, drying your tears and turning around towards Sucrose, gaze on the pavement. “Y/N...” Sucrose approaches carefully, hand resting on your shoulder.

“...I don’t know anything other than Albedo, Sucrose,” you start, a curtain of memories flashing through your mind. “...Without him, there isn’t much reason for me to stay in Mondstadt,” Sucrose shakes her head rather hastily. “H-He’s just... a little occupied right now, Y/N, I’m sure he doesn’t mean what he said,” You close your eyes, the scene repeating in your head.

“Anything else you want me to do? Maybe disappear so I don’t bother you or your research so much?”

“Yes, Y/N, that would be excellent, don’t get in the way. Stop being irritating at the wrong moment,”

A hard lump forms on your throat at how hard you try not to sob. How hard you try to keep yourself together and Sucrose sees it from the way your lips tremble. “Sucrose, please watch over him,” and that is also the last that Sucrose sees of you. 

That night, Albedo arrives home exhausted, just as he always does. But now that he was home, he could at least expect a warm meal and a warm hug. A soft smile tugs on his lips at the thought.

When he turned the lights on, he was met with a strange stillness instead. His hand stays on the switch as his eyes scan the living room. It was...quiet. There were no plates on the table, and there were no sounds from the kitchen.

Deep in the pits of his stomach there’s an anxiety that starts bubbling up. He brushes it off, opting instead to check the kitchen. “Y/N?”

Empty. 

His footsteps hasten as he opens the bedroom door, expecting you to be curled up there, asleep. 

Empty.

Albedo takes in a shaky breath. You were probably just out in town, doing some late night shopping. Yeah, that’s it, perhaps you just didn’t have enough ingredients for dinner today and--his eyes land on the bedside table.

The photo frame is gone. The photo of the two of you standing side by side together with comfortable smiles on your faces, his hand on your waist, and the house on the background. 

He throws open the closet doors. Your clothes are gone. Your shoes are gone. Even your scent seemed to have disappeared. The anxiety that was once a small bubble in his stomach had started to claw it’s way out, wrenching his heart in places that he didn’t know could hurt. The tears pooling in his eyes were so foreign that he didn’t even know what was happening until he hears himself gasp back a sob.

You’re gone. 

Suddenly it was so hard to breathe, but he pulls himself up and out the door. There’s no way. Where would you go? Perhaps you were just around Mondstadt, trying to get a breath of fresh air to calm your nerves. He searches everywhere. The church, the tavern, the Good Hunter and even atop the rooftop of the Favonius Headquarters. There was a decent view of the city there, and his eyes roam the streets, just to get a glimpse of you.

“...Please...” There’s another lump in his throat, his eyes dart around looking for any small sign of you. 

“Albedo? Tired?” you ask as he returns home one day. He merely lets out a small “Mm,” and pulls a chair out from the dining table to sit on. You walk into the kitchen to fetch him a cup of tea, and he snatches your hand to press a soft kiss on the back of it. “Thank you, love,” 

“...Please!” his grip on the stone walls of the rooftop tighten. His vision blurs.

“Al! Don’t do that!” you try to swat his hand away from the pot, a short laugh coming off of your lips at how mischievous he could be sometimes, trying to dip his finger into the sauce. He has a grin on his face as he successfully tastes the sauce off his finger, making a sound of approval as he draws you in for a light kiss on your forehead, “It’s good, as always,” 

His legs buckle, and he finds himself on his knees, hands fisted upon the cold stone wall. “At least tell me where you've gone! I can’t--” he doesn’t know when the last time he cried was, but whenever it was, he doesn’t remember it to be this bad. The pain was unlike any injury he had, it grasped so tightly at his heart.

“Anything else you want me to do? Maybe disappear so I don’t bother you or your research so much?”

“Yes, Y/N, that would be excellent, don’t get in the way. Stop being irritating at the wrong moment,”

He furiously shakes his head because he knows that it was his fault. “I didn’t mean it, please give them back,” as if there was someone else who took you away. As if there was a God listening to him right now. 

He realizes that the worst of it was not that you had left, but that you had left no traces of you behind. No photo. Not a piece of clothing. Not a trace of your existence.

Nothing for him to hold on to.

That night, he dragged himself back home. Face flushed and hot from the tears he had shed and the ones he was attempting to hold back.

That night, he painfully got into bed.

Alone.

Taglist:  @larkspyrr @rim0na @sweeti-pie @l3mon-mxshroom @hai-q-haikyuu @tkshoki @kyquu @KimbapSana @fanfictionenthusiast

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[ladyartemesia]

The Kiss

◐ PART VIII of THE ALPHA ◐

◐ Series Masterlist ◐

◐ Part I ◐ Part II ◐ Part III ◐ Part IV ◐ Part V ◐ Part VI ◐ Part VII ◐

Pairing: Alpha Werewolf Jimin x Omega Reader

Rating: Hard Mature 18+ (for this installment)

Warnings: this one is a little darker, descriptions of violence, ABO sexual dynamics including discussion of scenting, marking, mating, and claiming, strong sexual innuendo, discussion of violence relating to ritual combat, possessive behavior, injuries and discussion of injuries, lots of people have, use and are threatened by knives, kidnapping and drugging, its not as bad as it sounds, but it is definitely a bit darker…

Word Count: 4250

Author’s Note: I said it before but it bears repeating...You have no idea what your support has meant to me. Truly your asks and your messages and comments…they made me so happy. You made me believe that people wouldn’t forget about this story. I am so grateful you were able to wait. As many of you know I faced a medical emergency recently and you were all so lovely. The best followers on this site and I MEAN that. As always, my angels @ppersonna @xjoonchildx and  @untaemedqueen​  were (and continue to be) the best betas and the best friends anyone could ask for. My thanks to ALL of you for helping me bring this story to life! I don’t know what I would do without your daily encouragement and your daily support. You guys are the heartbeat of this story. It wouldn’t be here without you.

——◐——

Two Years Ago 

——◐——

Centuries ago the moon goddess stumbled across her human soulmate while he was sleeping. Struck by his beauty, but reluctant to reveal her identity, the goddess began to visit him in his dreams where she could hide her true form and appear before him as a mortal woman. 

In the world of dreams their love flourished and from that blessed union the packs were born…

The wolf nations celebrated this sacred romance every ten years during the Festival of the Lover’s Moon…

The day of the festival was spent eating and drinking and dancing at large parties, but when the sun went down… well—

That’s when things got really interesting. 

On the night of Lover’s Moon the young unmated wolves of the pack were permitted to commemorate this legendary love story in a decidedly scandalous manner. 

The unmated men assumed the role of the goddess’s sleeping lover—they were blindfolded (to represent slumber) and led into a large sectioned off area of the dark forest to ‘wait and dream.’

Unmated she-wolves over the age of maturity (eighteen) took herbal scent suppressors and ventured out into that very same forest in order to anonymously ‘visit’ the young men ‘in their dreams’...

The rules for what exactly that meant were pretty fast and loose which was why Min Yoongi was thanking the goddess and every other deity he could think of that Yunli was still seventeen. 

“But I will be eighteen in two days! Please can’t I just—“

“No. Absolutely not under any circumstances ever.”

“But Yoonji is going!”

“Ji-ah is nearly nineteen and has never been interested in any of the snotty little man-pups of our pack.” He snorted. “She’s probably going out just so she can shove a bunch of them in the lake.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Yunli mumbled irritably. 

Kim Taehyung yawned idly and snuggled into the cozy little pallet he prepared at the base of his favorite tree. The blindfold he and all the other unmated ‘lovers’  wore was made from witchcloth and could not be removed while the sun was down—so he had snuck into the forest earlier to set everything up. 

Now all he had to do was wait until—

“H-Hi Taehyung.”

Oh sh—

“Uh. Hello...Miss.”

Taehyung didn’t recognize the owner of that voice, but he knew for sure who it wasn’t. 

“I was hoping to find you tonight.”

This is not good. 

“Well I’m—I’m flattered… naturally but—”

She touched his hand and he squeaked. 

“I was thinking you and I might get to know each other a little bet—eep!”

The sharp point of a custom blade pressed directly into the unfortunate young beta girl’s pulse point. 

“Are you lost, puppy?”

A heavy cloak obscured the newcomer’s features, but there was no mistaking her meaning. 

Taehyung bit his lip to keep from snorting as the poor she-wolf scrambled away. 

“Ji-ah,” he tsked with feigned disapproval, “that wasn’t very nice.”

Min Yoonji grinned as she sheathed her wicked looking dagger and slid languidly into his arms. 

“You don’t like nice girls, Kim Taehyung.”

“I like you,” he whispered breathlessly against her lips. “Nice or not—it doesn't matter to me…” His hands slid greedily over her soft curves—pulling her closer till he felt the beat of her heart against his own. “I’ll like anything as long as it’s you.” 

This was the stupidest idea in the history of stupid ideas. 

Jimin huffed as he struggled to find a comfortable position against the giant boulder he’d chosen as his perch.

Why did I let Taehyung talk me into this?

He could be at home—in bed—comfortably sleeping off the all-day feast he’d indulged in. 

Instead he was out in the middle of the forest sitting blindfolded on a rock in the off chance that one of the she-wolves was out looking for him. 

Not bloody likely. 

Not when prime targets like Namjoon, Hoseok, Jungkook—and countless others—were scattered throughout the woods. 

“Park Jimin?”

Every hair on Jimin’s body stood on end. 

It was a soft whisper—the speaker clearly didn’t want her voice to be recognized, yet something about the sound sent a curious frisson of interest down his spine. 

He gulped. 

“Yes… that’s me. But if you’re looking for Hoseok he’s just a little deeper in. You probably caught his scent downwind so—”

“I’m not looking for Hoseok.”

Jimin licked his lips and the sight of it sparked a odd curl of heat in the pit of your belly. 

“I don’t know where anyone else is…”

“That’s quite alright.” A muted shuffle of movement reached his ears as you settled down beside him. “I was looking for you.” 

“Oh…” He rubbed the back of his neck idly. “Are you sure?”

Laughter like fairy bells whispered through the air and Jimin felt his heart clench.

Don’t get your hopes up. 

“Who are you?”

You were silent for a long time and then—

“I am someone who owes you a debt. One I have never been able to repay.”

Jimin’s head tilted curiously as he considered your words. 

“I’m sorry, miss… you must be mistaken. There isn’t—“

“You don’t remember.” 

It was a statement—not a question. Your voice was nearer now. He could feel the warmth of your body close to his—though not quite touching. “It was your wolf that saved me. But you had not gone through the Change yet.”

Familiar shame spiked sharply in his chest.

“I’m seven years past the Change...Why have you never mentioned this before?”

“Circumstances prevented me from doing so.” 

There was a cold finality to your pronouncement—which of course did nothing but further inflame his curiosity. 

“Then why come to me now?”

“I’ve come to repay you.”

Jimin’s mouth dropped open. 

Were you trying to—?!

“Oh—no please that-that’s not necessary—I could never take advantage of—”

You giggled again.  

“I am not offering my body, Park Jimin.”

Jimin breathed a heavy sigh of relief then shook his head with a wry chuckle. 

“Well considering the circumstances I can hardly be blamed for assuming you might be. And honestly most men would jump at the chance to—”

“You...are not most men.” 

Jimin’s eyes narrowed beneath his blindfold. 

“Little she-wolf—I may not be wrestling bears for fun or bare knuckle boxing in the town square, but I am still an alpha.”

The weight of his command poured over your body as he spoke the last word. There was no order or intent—he had simply given you a taste of his power. 

Aside from your direct blood relatives, no alpha had ever dared unleash their compel in your presence—therefore you were utterly unprepared for the effect it had on you—

Utterly unprepared for the strange surge of want so potent and profound that it stole the breath from your body. 

It was primal—invigorating—

Sensual.

You and your wolf may not have been entirely connected yet, but she was suddenly quite vocal about her desire to fully bask in Park Jimin’s attention.

A wicked grin played over his lips as he leaned in closer and you could almost feel the soft brush of his lips against your cheek. 

“Did you think I would not desire the touch of a beautiful woman in the moonlight?” he whispered. 

Please touch me, Alpha. 

Your eyes widened. 

Dear goddess. Your inner wolf was turning out to be a shameless hussy. 

“You might desire it, but you are far too  honorable to accept it as payment for a debt.”

Jimin drew back warily. 

You were correct of course. After all he had refused you when he believed that was your intent but—

“How could you know that?”

Evade. Evade now. 

“Well... how could you know I was beautiful? You’re blindfolded.”

He shrugged and your wolf took careful note of the way it made all the pretty muscles in his back and shoulders ripple. 

He will give us such strong—

Oh boy. 

He will do no such thing. Please calm down. 

“Not everything must be seen with your eyes.”

Is that how you found me? All those years ago...

Questions churned chaotically beneath your consciousness but you dared not give voice to them. 

Focus.

“I must repay this debt. Ask for what you want and—if it is in my power—I swear it will be yours.”

Jimin smiled again, but this time it was somehow softer. For a moment he looked almost…

Sad. 

“I’m afraid that the only thing I have ever wanted is not within your power to give...and I dare not ask you or anyone else for it.”

For her. 

He sighed and drew even farther away from you—in fact it seemed like he was preparing to leave. 

No. 

Your hand reached out almost of it's its own accord and wrapped tightly around his wrist. The contact sent a shock of searing heat through his veins and he froze. 

“Please alpha. It is not acceptable for someone like me—” a leader, a Luna, “—to owe another my life and offer nothing in return. You must let me pay my debt.”

Omega, his wolf growled, sweet perfect omega. 

Suppressors may have hidden your scent, but the siren song of an omega pleading prettily in his ear was unmistakable—irresistible…

“What if all I want is your name?”

You sighed deeply. 

“I cannot give you that. My name is… not mine to offer.”

Jimin laughed. 

“A woman I cannot remember with a name I cannot know and whose face I cannot see.” He shook his head. “Perhaps you are just a figment of my imagination.”

It was hard to explain what happened next...For whatever reason his words cut you deeply and you were overcome with the desire—no need—to refute them somehow. 

“I’m real enough,” you whispered, bringing his hand to your cheek. 

Jimin was genuinely beginning to wonder if you were a witch as well as a she-wolf. Being close to you was intoxicating and the urge to draw you in was steadily overpowering every other thought.

“Could I ask you for a kiss, then?”

“You—...You saved my life and all you want... is a kiss?”

The air grew heavier as the strange magnetic pull between you swelled to a silent inescapable crescendo. 

“In Seoul I often searched for someone who could ease my loneliness, yet each time I walked away emptier than before.” His thumb brushed gently over your lips and your eyes fluttered shut. “I have never had a kiss that meant anything to me.”

But yours might. 

It was unclear who moved first, whether he pulled you to him or you surged forward but when your bodies aligned and your lips met his for the first time it was as if you had never been separate from one another. 

As if you had always been deeply—intimately —together. 

The indescribable feel of him lit over your senses like a struck match. It was an ignition in the purest sense of the word— a fiery visceral awakening fueled by a consuming flood of desire. 

Yes, Alpha. 

He might never see your face or hear your name, but Jimin knew he would remember the taste of you for the rest of his life. It was hot and bright like liquid sunshine— a pure relentless light flowing through him where there was once only darkness. 

A soft needy moan rose up from your chest and he growled in primal satisfaction as you melted against him. 

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt of their own accord, desperately trying to bring him closer until he wrapped his arms around you in a heated embrace. 

“Please,” he begged breathlessly against your mouth. “Please tell me who you are.”

The words crashed over you like a bucket of ice —dousing the hazy pleasure of his kiss with a cold bite of reality. Suddenly you were wrenching yourself away from him and your wolf whimpered in misery at the loss of his touch. 

“I can’t,” you whispered. 

And then you were gone. 

“Did someone hurt you?”

You looked up to find Jin taking in your tears with cold fury. 

Twin knives were already gleaming dangerously in his hands and he appeared ready to filet whichever bastard was foolish enough to make you cry. 

“No,” you sniffed—well aware of how pitiful you were at the moment—crying in the corner of your cousin’s kitchen. “I got myself into this mess without any help—as usual.”

Jin sighed and slid down next to you. 

“Tell me.”

“Something happened that I…I didn’t intend.”

“Oh I knew that already. The Luna isn’t supposed to be running around on the night of Lover’s Moon in a forest full of blind horny wolves—“

You snorted and shook your head. 

“You’re absolutely right. I should have stayed away.”

Jin’s eyes narrowed and he wondered if perhaps you had caught Kim Namjoon with another omega. Nothing would be official until after the Change of course, but your bond with him was basically a foregone conclusion at this point. 

“You went looking for someone...didn’t you.”

You nodded miserably—all but confirming his fears. He made a mental note to push Namjoon in the swamp at the next available opportunity. 

“You know... the stories say that a Luna is powerfully drawn to her mate under the Lover’s Moon—that her wolf can sense him even before the Change.”  He reached over and gently began to brush the tears from your eyes. “So it’s not surprising that you sought him out, but it’s not really fair to hold whatever it is you saw against him. There is no relationship between you yet and…” he chuckled, “kisses beneath festival moonlight don’t really mean anything anyways.”

It was clear that Jin had somehow gotten the entirely wrong impression, but perhaps that was for the best. 

No one knew of your connection to Jimin and no one had seen what passed between you. 

Still…

Something about his assessment stung you. 

“You really believe that? ...That a kiss exchanged tonight means nothing?”

“I do.” Jin spoke with conviction. “There’s ancient magic at play in those woods. You can’t always trust what you see—or what you feel.”

“Oh I...I didn’t know…”

After a moment you laid your head against his shoulder and let the last of your tears run silently down your cheek. 

“Jin-ah have you ever wanted something you knew you couldn’t have?”

“Yes.” He sighed heavily and pulled you in to snuggle a bit closer. “When I was younger I dreamed of having a mate just like everyone else…”

The words were so softly spoken—almost wistful. Your heart splintered just hearing them. 

“But… she could be out there—your mate.”

Jin shook his head. 

“When is the last time you heard of a female alpha?”

Fresh tears welled up in your eyes. 

“Jin…”

“Hey,” he whispered, “don’t waste your crying on me. I’ve long since come to terms with who and what I am.”

“You’re not sad anymore?”

“Well… maybe sometimes I am… but I had to accept that people like us are not like everyone else. Our destinies were written long before we were born.”

“And you believe you’re destined to be alone?”

“Wolves in a pack are never really alone.”

“Yes...but they can be lonely,” you whispered thinking back to Jimin’s words. 

For a moment Jin’s eyes were the saddest you had ever seen them. 

“Well...I suppose they can.”  Then he chuckled and gave your nose an affectionate little tap. “But you don’t need to worry about that. When the time comes Namjoon will take his place at your side and the two of you will build a wonderful life together... Isn’t that what you want?”

Isn’t it?

Your treacherous thoughts drifted back to the boy in the moonlight—to the way your body sang when he touched you and the strange insatiable desire to know him and be known by him in return.

“Please...Tell me who you are.”

A heavy ache settled in your heart. 

You were the Luna of the mountain nations. A true born moon princess. 

You could never be the woman who kissed Park Jimin underneath the stars. 

You were not like everybody else. 

“...Yes. That is what I want.”

——◐——

Now 

——◐——

Jimin’s heart pounded as he tore through the dark paths of the wood with Taehyung, Yoongi, and Jungkook close behind. 

He had never led an attack—had never been trained to command wolves in battle. 

It was his first true test of leadership and he hadn’t even been a leader for twenty-four hours. 

Yet the fears and anxieties that might have normally clouded his mind were notably absent. 

There was only you.

Ironically Jimin owed Namjoon yet another debt—this time for explaining what exactly someone like him was capable of. 

The alpha Jin captured had given up their plan and position after being exposed to Jimin’s unique gifting, so he had a concrete target in his mind… He suspected however, that your captors had taken precautions after leaving some of their men behind. They had shifted their camp. 

But it wouldn’t be enough to save them. 

Jimin didn’t need your location to find you. 

He spent years refusing to look at you, and even then he always knew exactly where you were. He could sense you in any crowd—hear your voice in a thousand.

Once it had tormented him cruelly to be so aware of you. 

Now it was the only thing keeping him sane. 

He followed the connection between his heart and yours like a lifeline and it guided him as surely as the stars. 

The alphas followed him without question. 

If any of them harbored lingering doubts before, they were firmly laid to rest after what they saw at the cottage. No ordinary wolf could do what he had done. 

The Alpha would bring back their Luna and retribution would be swift indeed. 

The drugs in your system kept swinging you in and out of lucidity like a nightmarish pendulum. You tried to shift after the initial nausea faded, but whatever they gave you kept your wolf caged beneath your skin. 

Jimin

The longing you felt for your mate was the only thing tethering you to reality. You could almost hear him echoing in the far corners of your mind—  

I’m coming Omega—hold on. 

I’ll find you. 

Part of you recognized that his voice was likely nothing more than the wistful creation of your drug-addled mind, still you clung to it like the last shred of hope while the minutes (or hours) flew past.

Chaos clouded your thoughts even in clearer moments as many unavoidable concerns forced their way through the haze. 

Jin was at the house with you when they broke in. You had no way of knowing if he survived. 

The men who took you were crass and irreverent. Their eyes followed your form with too much interest and too little respect. 

It was starting to get cold and (due to you nearly dismembering a high council member and needing to be compelled unconscious) you were still wearing a thin white ceremonial dress which offered very little protection from the elements. 

You wondered idly if your idiot captors would let you freeze to death before they accomplished whatever it was they took you for. They clearly needed you for something or you would have been long dead by now. 

None of them struck you as particularly brilliant planners so the mastermind must be somewhere else... 

Frankly the entire situation was as puzzling as it was troubling. Iron Claw had always gotten along well with your pack. 

Technically they were (almost) what the human governments called a vassal state. The presence of a Luna determined the dominant pack in a region and the Luna of the mountain nations had been born into Silver Fang—your pack—for the last thousand years or so. 

Why would they challenge us now? 

The birth of a Luna indicated that the goddess had chosen that pack to lead. Their willingness—not only to kidnap you—but to go against the dominant pack by doing so was alarming to say the least. 

A sudden explosion of movement and sound interrupted your contemplation. Motion erupted all around you—boots pounding on the ground, men falling into their wolf forms, knives being drawn… 

You lifted your head—straining forward to see the source of the commotion—and nearly collapsed in relief when you finally did. 

Alpha

Your mate stood at the edge of the camp flanked by two enormous black wolves. 

A deadly looking jingum sword gleamed dangerously in his right hand. You recognized it immediately as your great-grandfather’s combat blade—the thousand year-old weapon of the Silver Fang Alphas. 

Relief flooded your chest all over again at the sight of it. Only Jin could have given him that sword—which meant he was still alive. 

The black wolves—Yoongi and Jungkook—snarled viciously but made no move to attack. 

Your captors were still scrambling into some sort of combat formation when Jimin finally spoke. 

“You have violated our sacred laws, trespassed in sovereign pack lands, kidnapped a Luna under the protection of our goddess, abducted the mate of the Silver Fang Alpha, and risked open war between our peoples.” He took a single step forward. “Surrender now and I will be merciful.”

The biggest of your captors—a man you recognized as the de facto leader—spat viciously on the ground. 

“You are not my Alpha,” he growled.

A cold—almost cruel—smile twisted over Jimin’s lips.

“Very well.”

Then he dropped to one knee and a massive grey wolf—Taehyung—leapt over his head and tore out the defiant leader’s throat before he even hit the ground. 

Your mouth dropped open. 

Bangtan formation.

Yoongi and Jungkook lunged forward in opposite directions, tackling their targets to the forest floor in a bloody clash of teeth and claws. 

One of the larger Iron Claw alphas half-shifted and charged Jimin but his arm shot out lightning fast, catching his attacker by the throat to send him flying through the air into a tree. 

The next several minutes could only be described as terrifyingly beautiful.

It was immediately clear that Jimin had been holding back when he fought Namjoon. 

He dispatched his opponents with such elegant savagery it was almost art.

You were so mesmerized watching Jimin sensually sword dance his way through a dozen alphas nearly twice his size that you almost missed Taehyung’s wolf rushing over with a dagger clenched between his teeth. 

Luna are you okay? 

You grinned and held up your rope-bound wrists. 

“I’ll be better once you pass me that knife.”

Taehyung nodded once and dropped the blade at your feet before tackling another wolf that was tearing towards the two of you. 

You sawed through the ties around your ankle first then twisted your arms to try and slice through the restraints on your wrist. 

The Iron Claw wolves were clearly no match for Jimin and his alphas. 

Jungkook and Yoongi chased after the few who were trying to run while Taehyung half-shifted to subdue the handful of wolves left alive as prisoners. Only Jimin continued to fight as the last three of your captors still standing took turns being slammed into the dirt by his strikes. 

He was clearly capable of dispatching them, but you were fairly convinced that you would die if you had to stay away from him for another second. The ropes, however, were surprisingly thick and the angle you were cutting them at wasn’t the best. If only—

You were almost free when you saw it. 

One of your captors had pulled a hunting javelin from their supply wagon. He must have hid himself at the onset of the fight, but now he was comfortably concealed by the shadows—and taking aim at Jimin. 

Your heart dropped into your stomach. 

The attacker appeared to handle the weapon with familiarity. He was too far back—too well hidden—Jimin would never see him in time—

The last cord around your wrist snapped and you were on your feet, pushing through the combined haze of fury and sedatives to charge the wolf who dared attack your mate. 

By the time he saw you it was far too late. 

Under the effects of the drug your aim was a little skewed but you weren’t Kim Seokjin’s cousin for nothing. 

One clean flick of your wrist and the dagger shot through the air, burying itself between the brute’s shoulder blades—all the way to the hilt. 

His body fell to the ground just as Jimin sent the last of your captors careening into a pile of previously defeated foes. 

For a moment all was quiet. 

Then your eyes locked across the distance and everything around you sharpened to a single whispered word. 

“Jimin.”

He had run non-stop for miles and torn apart a dozen wolves to get to your side—no amount of space between you now was tolerable. 

The sword clattered to the forest floor as he moved toward you—desperate to feel you—to wrap himself around you and know that you were safe. 

What happened next was as natural as breathing.

You opened to him and he lifted you into his arms, taking your lips in a hot unrepentant kiss. 

Fire exploded across your senses, burning away everything but the touch and taste of him. Every part of you was at once fiercely and gloriously alive. Desperate moans passed between you as he licked into your mouth—a dark primal promise of the pleasure he would take between your thighs. 

“Alpha,” you whimpered, too delirious with want to manage anything else. 

Suddenly Jimin’s eyes shot open. His hands flew to cup your face, searching it with a mixture of realization and disbelief.

“You… It was you.”

If you are already on the taglist, then I will automatically tag you for the next part! If you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know.

Please tell me what you thought of this update! I am really excited to hear your thoughts! Feedback really does fuel my writing and hearing from you means a lot to me! On days that its hard to write, I go back and I read your lovely words and it makes me want to keep going! I cannot overstate its value in my heart! Seriously this story keeps going because you guys have been so supportive and wonderful. You have no idea how much just a few word can brighten my world and fire up my muse. 

[mari-writes]

Bokuto watches in confusion as Akaashi heads through the apartment and to the kitchen, setting down an insulated tote bag on the counter. 

He wanders over, peeking in to see four plastic containers nestled neatly inside. “Akaashi,” Bokuto asks carefully, “what is this?” 

“What do you mean?” Akaashi begins to unload the containers, four of them, filled with foods of different nutritional value. The first box: lean meats, to meet Bokuto’s protein quota.

“I always come by the first Saturday of the month.” 

“Yeah, but…” 

“Here.” The second box is filled with greens and other veggies. Lots of vitamin A, C and K. Rich in antioxidants, Akaashi says, and imperative for an athlete. 

“But Akaashi—” 

His friend keeps his gaze trained on the food, lifting out the third and fourth containers, filled with healthy carbohydrates. “You… really you don’t have to.” 

Akaashi shrugs as he lines up the fare. “That’s okay, Bokuto-san.” He shrugs. “Like I always say, I don’t mind the trip. It’s really not a problem, and I—” 

Bokuto grabs Akaashi’s arm gently, and the other man goes silent. “Keiji,” he says, and Akaashi gasps at the informal address. “I thought we talked about this?” 

Akaashi freezes in place. 

“I’m in the V.League now. I, well … I have a nutritionist.”

Bokuto motions to his fridge. “My meals are already planned out.” 

Akaashi’s shoulders drop. “Ah,” he nods. “Right.” 

“Actually, I’m getting a lot better at cooking!” He grins. “Maybe someday I’ll make YOU a meal!”

Akaashi looks like he’s trying to smile, but his bottom lip suddenly wobbles, and he squeezes his eyes shut. The sudden change catches Bokuto entirely off guard. 

“Not that I don’t appreciate it!” Bokuto cries. “I’ll definitely eat all of this, it looks really good!” He tries to meet his friend’s eye, but the younger man is looking more distressed every moment. Bokuto has no clue why. 

Finally, Akaashi turns, and Bokuto is shocked to see the other man’s lovely eyes shining with tears. “I… sincerely apologize, Bokuto-san. It’s a force of habit. I can go...” 

“No!” He takes hold of Akaashi’s other arm, and suddenly they are face to face. “That's not it! I just don’t want you to feel like you HAVE to anymore!” He lowers his voice. “Akaashi, are you okay?” 

The man sniffles and nods again. “It’s just…” He takes a deep breath. “I enjoy helping you, Bokuto-san. I… I like bringing you food.” 

That’s surprising. “O-Oh?” The other man nods. He’s blushing now, red painting his cheeks and the tips of his ears. It’s a nice look. Actually, he looks nice in general today. He’s wearing dark blue pea coat, with a soft-looking turtleneck underneath.

His glasses—a new addition as of last month—perfectly compliment his face, and his hair is even curlier than usual from the humidity. 

He’s cute. Really, really cute… 

“I want to have an excuse to come see you.” 

Bokuto’s eyes snap to Akaashi’s in shock. The man’s voice had been barely a whisper, and he’s wearing a complex expression: Like he’s regretful, or longing for something … but also content to just look at Bokuto. Like he’d do anything to be able to keep looking at him. 

Is this the moment, then? Bokuto had hoped he’d be better prepared for when he finally let go and told Akaashi how he felt. About how much he liked seeing him, too. How it felt strange to go longer than two weeks without meeting up. How his little schoolboy crush that he hadn’t fully understood all those years ago had never really gone away.

Bokuto swallows, steeling his nerves. “Well that’s good then,” he finally replies, and brings his hands up to cup the other man’s face. Akaashi quickly relaxes into the touch. “Because I’ve got a great one.” 

He leans in, waits for a millisecond to make sure Akaashi isn’t pulling away, and finally closes the distance.

The kiss is chaste, barely-there, but Bokuto feels it with his entire body. Suddenly he feels warm all over, as if he’s settled into a hot bath. Akaashi’s lips feel as soft as they always looked, despite being chapped from the cold, and they’re most definitely reciprocating. Silently Bokuto cheers. 

When they part, Akaashi is looking at him with wonder, eyes scanning him like he’s not quite sure what just happened. Bokuto smiles proudly. “How’s that for a reason to visit, eh, Akaashi?”

Incredulous, Akaashi shakes his head and grips the front of Bokuto’s shirt. “Dammit, Bokuto-san,” he mutters, and falls face-first into his chest. He groans. “I can’t believe you.” 

Bokuto chuckles, bringing his arms around to embrace his friend—boyfriend?—in the way he’d always wanted: firmly, and all-encompassing. They stay like that for a while, just basking in the moment. 

“Akaashi?” 

“Hmm?” Bokuto pushes him up so they once again lock gazes. Akaashi blinks slowly, like a cat when they’re halfway asleep. His skin is still flushed.

“You never needed an excuse.” He brushes a thumb over Akaashi’s left cheekbone. “I’m never not happy to see you.”

A soft smile settles onto Akaashi’s lips. “Me too.”

From then on, Akaashi’s trips to Osaka become once a month instead of twice. But it’s only because Bokuto makes that second trip himself, to Tokyo.

Bokuto is proud of himself for how far he’s come. He can take pretty good care of himself now. He’s learning to cook, is much better at doing laundry than before, and even does part of his own tax filing.

But having Akaashi by his side through it all… well, it just makes everything that much better.

💕🦉

// Thanks for reading! The latest Haikyuu-bu chapter killed me. Bkak is married, and that’s a fact. Anyway, thanks for reading this silly little thing. If you enjoyed it please reply with a comment and reblog! I yearn for validation lol

[dem-obscure-imagines]

Unexpected and Unusual

Jedediah Smith x Reader

Fandom: Night at the Museum

Summary: While catching up with your old college friend, Larry, you learn he knows your soulmate. It’s not until you get to the museum, however, that you realize just how strange the circumstances surrounding your destiny are…

Note: Wow I’m actually pretty proud of this one. I missed writing for NatM and I’m always in the mood for a good soulmate au.

Warnings: Some swearing.

Word Count: 2.3k

Reader Is: Female

You looked down at the words written on your wrist and chuckled. You figured whoever your soulmate was must be an actor or something. Maybe you’d meet them at a Renaissance Festival or a dinner and theater type thing? Like Medieval Times, but for cowboys? You weren’t sure, but it seemed like it would be a memorable experience regardless.

Your phone buzzed and you reached to click off the alarm reminding you to head out if you wanted to make it to dinner with your friend Larry. The two of you had met in college and now he worked as a night guard at one of the museums in town. Therefore, you were having dinner a little earlier than you were used to, but you didn’t mind.

So, you grabbed your stuff and headed to the diner you and Larry used to go to in college sometimes. You ordered your usuals and started catching up.

“So…how are things at the museum lately? Any new exhibits?”

“Not since the last time you visited, no. Same old, same old. It’s pretty fun, though.”

“Isn’t it like…creepy? Being there all alone at night?” You asked. The thought of being in a building full of lifeless wax figures and statues and whatnot gave you the chills just thinking about it. Especially if it was dark. It didn’t seem like a fun gig, if you were honest.

“Nah, it’s not so bad.” Larry said. “I keep myself occupied.”

“Well, good for you, Larry. I’m glad you found something you enjoy, finally.”

“Yeah, me too. So what’s new with you? Any updates?”

“Nope. Boss is still a jerk, my classes for my master’s degree still suck, and I’m still not really sure what I’m doing with my thesis or…you know, what I want to do with the rest of my life.”

“Yeah, I feel that. But you’ll get there. I know you will. You’ll figure it out. You always were the clever one.”

“Heh, thanks. I needed to hear that.” You took a bite of a French fry.

“So no soulmate yet then, huh?” Larry asked.

“Yeah not yet…I’m pretty sure he’s an actor or something.”

Larry perked up. “Wait, you finally got your mark?”

“Few years ago, yeah.” You said, grinning and rolling up your sleeve to show him. “Seems like a fun guy, right?”

Larry stared for a long time, something akin to shock mixed with realization washing over his features. “Oh, you have no idea…”

You laughed, looking at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, I just…” Larry shrugged. “I think I might know him, is all.”

“Woah, you what? You know him? Who is he? What’s he like? Why does he…talk like that?”

“It’s kind of hard to explain…” He thought for a long moment, fighting with himself over something. “You know…why don’t you come to work with me? It might be easier to…well, to show you.”

“Are you sure? Is that allowed?”

Larry had a knowing look on his face. “Oh, I think they’ll make an exception.”

***

Once the two of you finished eating and paid the bill, you went to the museum together. It wasn’t too far away from the diner, close enough to walk, in fact. And it was a beautiful walk. You loved New York.

The sun wasn’t quite setting yet, but you suspected it would be soon. Larry told you that was usually when he went in, just before sunset. And so, once you got to the museum, you started looking around at the exhibits. You’d gone there a lot in college, mostly for research, but also partially because there were some nice quiet spots that were perfect to study in.

“Theodore Roosevelt, right?” You said, looking up at the wax replica of him, riding on his horse.

“Yep. 26th president of the United States.”

“When I was a kid, I always liked him because I liked Teddy bears and they were named after him.”

“I feel like he’d like that.” Larry smiled, laughing softly. “You should tell him that.”

You made a quizzical look and turned back to face him. “What?”

“Yeah, in about…” Larry glanced down at his watch and you watched him incredulously. “Three…two…one…”

“Lawrence, my boy! Good evening!” Said a voice behind you.

You whipped around and looked up at the moving (?) statue. Your eyes widened and you stared up at him as he climbed down off of his horse.

“And who might this beautiful young lady be?” Theodore offered his hand. “Theodore Roosevelt at your service.”

“I’m (Y/N).” You said slowly, shaking his hand and turning back towards Larry to mouth ‘What. The. Fuck.’

“I know, it’s kind of a lot.” Larry shrugged. “But you’ll get used to it.”

“Ah, Larry,” There was another voice, someone coming down from one of the upper levels. He was dressed all in gold, a luxurious cape billowing behind him. He stopped when he noticed you. “Oh, hello. I am Ahkmenrah, Fourth King of the Fourth Kings, ruler of the land of my fathers. And you are?”

“Ahk, this is (Y/N).” Larry looked at you and walked up to Ahk, cupping a hand around the Pharoah’s ear and whispering something that made him smile and laugh quietly to himself before nodding.

“Yes, I can do that.” Ahk nodded and offered his arm to you, which you took hesitantly. “Right this way. Larry wants me to show you where our, uh…little friends live.”

“Oh…alright?” You followed him through the corridors, heart racing as you ran through everything that had happened so far. Wait. If Larry wanted you to come here with him to see…all of this…did that mean…?

“Your first time, I presume?” Ahkmenrah asked, a kind and patient look on his face.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m hallucinating, actually.”

“Well, I must say, you are taking it very well. Some of the people Larry brings here tend to…faint upon seeing Theodore come to life.”

“Oh…well, I guess I’m glad I didn’t pass out, then.” You laughed. “Unless I did pass out and this is all a weird dream…”

Ahk chuckled softly. “Well, only time will tell, I suppose. Anyway, here we are.”

He stopped you in the doorway of a room that contained a few miniature exhibits. One looked like the old West complete with a mine and a railroad, and the other was a Roman city, filled with columns and gorgeous architecture.

Upon closer inspection, there were tiny little people moving about. People that you assumed had come to life like the rest of the museum.

Ahk leaned closer to you and spoke quietly, “Good luck,” before leading you into the room, and straight up to the western exhibit.

“Well, if it ain’t the King of Egypt himself! What brings you in here, partner?” Asked a tiny cowboy, reciting the words on your arm perfectly. He then looked up at you, his expression softening. “And who is this tall glass of water? Are you a friend of Gigantor’s?”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. Your heart raced and your legs felt wobbly. They said fate worked in funny ways, but this was…something else entirely. Now you felt woozy…

“I…think I’m gonna pass out.” You took a few steps back and leaned against the wall. “This isn’t possible.”

“Are you alright?” Ahk asked with concern, taking a few steps closer to you.

You nodded, but you weren’t so sure. Your soulmate, your freaking soulmate was a teeny, tiny cowboy about an inch and a half tall. How was that even possible? Why? How did the universe expect something like that to work out when he was literally the size of your pinkie finger?

You slowly slid down to the floor, taking deep breaths in an effort to get your heartrate back to normal.

“I’m going to get you some water.” Ahk announced. “Stay here.”

“Will do.” You nodded, watching as he left the room while you sat on the cold, tile floor.

Slowly, the tiny cowboy made his way across the floor towards you, careful not to make any sudden moves. When you saw him, though, your eyes widened slightly.

“Easy there. I ain’t tryin’ to scare you none. Are you alright?” He asked, his voice tentative and…nervous? Did he know who you were? Did he have a tiny little soulmark on his arm, too?

“Getting there.” You replied, looking down at him as he got closer and closer.

“I don’t know what to say to you to make you feel any better.” He admitted, his face earnest and somewhat sad. “I know it ain’t…” He shook his head and chuckled. “Well, I’m probably not what you were expecting.”

“I mean…you’re…right.” You nodded. This was ridiculous. Maybe you had passed out.

“I knew you probably wouldn’t take it well.” He shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck, holding up the arm you assumed had his mark on it. “And I wouldn’t expect you to, all things considered.”

“What’s your name?” You asked. It was crazy. It was. But…he was your soulmate, apparently, so…shouldn’t you at least give him a chance?

“I’m Jedediah. What’s yours?”

“(Y/N).”

“Beautiful name for a beautiful gal.” He asserted, causing you to smile, a blush rising to your cheeks. “See, there’s that smile I was waiting for. Breathtaking.” He took a few steps closer, still hesitant to get too close. “You think you’re gonna be alright?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Good, good.” He exhaled in relief and put a tiny little hand on your calf. “Don’t worry, darling. You’re in good hands.”

As soon as he stopped touching you, the words on your arm started to glow a bright gold color, the light powerful, almost blinding.

“Woah.” You shielded your eyes with your hand, peering through your fingers to look at the letters. Looking down at Jed informed you that this was not a solo experience; his arm was glowing as well.

He wobbled in place, looking down at himself. “What in tarnation…?” He fell back on his little butt, and if you weren’t so confused and startled, you would have tried to help him up. However, as soon as you thought to move, something even stranger happened.

He started to grow.

It was slow at first, with Jed letting out a string of confused curses, but then, exponentially, he shot up until he was human-sized, sitting in front of you on the floor, looking up at you, and then at his own body, and then at you again.

“Holy fuck.” You stared at him for a long time. Now that you could actually make out his features clearly, you had to admit: he was handsome. “Um, hi.”

“Howdy.” He chuckled softly to himself, shaking his head. “They always did say fate works in mysterious ways, but I didn’t expect something like this.”

“Me either.”

“I’m sorry it took so long. The vending machine on this floor was out of water. How are you…” Ahkmenrah came into the room with a water bottle, but dropped it when he looked up and saw you sitting across from Jed at human size. “Oh.”

“Yeah, I ain’t sure either, twinkle toes.” Jed shrugged, getting to his feet. “Probably best not to question it.” Jed took your hands and helped you to your feet while Ahk grabbed the water bottle off of the floor, handing it to you.

“Thank you. For the water.” You said, twisting off the cap and taking a sip.

“Of course.”

“Hey, how are things going in here?” Larry walked in finally, deciding to check up on the situation. He stopped dead in his tracks, staring up at Jed with wide eyes. “Jed? That’s what you look like?”

“We’ve been friends for how long now, Gigantor, and you don’t know what I look like?”

“Well it’s hard to make out your face when you’re so…you know.” Larry shrugged. He looked at you. “You okay?”

“Better now, yeah.” You nodded.

“Okay, good. Because there’s a lot more where that came from.” Larry grinned, and you knew this was only the beginning of something very magical…

***

It didn’t take long to establish a routine. Every night about an hour before sundown, you would meet Larry at the museum. They let you do homework at the front desk on the condition you occasionally did little filing tasks like making copies or stapling things together. It wasn’t a bad gig.

Then, once the sun set, Teddy would come to life and greet you, followed by Rexy, who you’d learned to throw a bone for every once in a while, then Ahk would come down the stairs and greet you on his way to do whatever task he had decided to do for the evening. And then, finally, you’d hear the little electric hum of the yellow RC car Jed and Octavius were so fond of, approaching you slowly but surely.

“Howdy, darling. How are you tonight?” Jed asked, hopping out of the car.

“I’m doing good! How are you two doing?”

“I’m well, thank you for asking, (Y/N).” Oct nodded, smiling.

“And I am doing much better now.” Jed grinned.

You lowered the chain of paperclips you’d made and he grabbed on, letting you pull him upwards until he could grip the edge of the counter, which he did with ease, and then, once he was in position, it was time for your magic trick. You reached over and carefully poked his hand with your pointer finger and immediately, he shot up to human height, smiling down at you.

“I will never get sick of that.” He insisted, reaching out for your hand.

“Me either.” You slipped your hand into his, letting him pull you up from your seat and into the open room, where he effortlessly dipped you back, pressing his lips to yours in a passionate kiss. When he pulled you upright again, you leaned your forehead against his, grinning. “And I will never get sick of that.”

What you had with Jed wasn’t normal, by any means, but that didn’t matter. You finally found your soulmate. And you knew that every night for the rest of your life, you were in for the adventure of a lifetime.

[onyxoverride]

Camellias at Sundown

Miche Zacharius x Reader

◙warnings: forbbiden love, mutual pining, happy ending, some angst (familial death + longing,) soft smut minors dni (18+), cunnilingus + stockings, fingering + mirror, then finally sensual sex, Erwin x Levi mentioned.

◙word count: 8k

◙summary: Miche Zacharius has a duty as the only son to the rich Zacharius family to play out his role as the future lord of the estate. But he’s been in love with the you, the gardener of the estate ever since he was young and with inhibitions lessened, he pursues you.

◙note: thank you so much @lady-lunaaa for beta-ing this I appreciate you endlessly to the moon and back. This is for Rias 3k Richboy Collab!! @bakugohoex thank you for letting me participate! I am also doing Yuji which is here: Sweet Secrets. Please support everybody else's fic as well thank you for reading I hope you enjoy!!! I think this may be my favorite thing I've written so far :0

Miche Zacharius has seen the inner workings of his own gilded cage since he was young. Each bar engraved with different obligations — to his family, to his standing in society, to everyone around him except the person he wants most.

When he saw you, it was when you were not old enough to work properly. Playing with the trimming of hedges your mother snipped while he was studying Latin and Italian with a ruler smacked against his wrists every time you caught his eye. To say the least, he had a lot of bruises.

When he and his friends, that he had to make through his position as a rich man’s son, sat outside his eyes would always go to you. Snipping away at the extensions of blushing flowers, some crimson, others an innocent white but all smelling just as sweet. A mixture of jasmine and citrus, subtle but still sweet. This is when his friend Hanji would nudge him, push him towards you in a childlike fashion. The only time where they could truly represent their age. Erwin would chuckle behind a teacup while throwing a glance at his young raven-haired butler, sharing an amused subdued smile. And while his mentors and his nanny weren’t looking he would sneak to you, as quiet as he could almost as if he’d scare you but he is simply too large, even as a child. Making sure his eyebrows aren’t drawn because apparently he looks intimidating like that before getting your attention with a cough (he can hear Hanji laughing behind him at his behavior.)

“Uhm…” his foot is tapping the grass behind his heel while he rubs the back of his neck. Too focused on how he presented himself to you to think of what he should say until he catches the sight of the flowers in your hands, calloused and overworked from the daily work.

“The flowers- uh- what are they?” grimacing at his own words, scolding himself because seriously? They’re obviously fucking flowers you just said it Miche-

Your laugh cuts his thoughts off. Gentle and subdued after years of learning how to be quiet around the people you serve, “they’re camellia’s,” you grasp the blossom of one of the pink flowers and offer it to him.

“Oh,” flower set into the plain of his hand makes it seem smaller than it truly is, blushing against his hand and his face just as pink, “well, they’re very pretty…”

“I’m glad you think so, young lord,” and it all comes reeling back, tethering him to reality once again as you try to continue your duty. You spare one last glance, hoping your mother doesn’t see how wanting it looks.

His tailored suit feeling all too tight as he walks back to his friends, they’re teasing him. Tugging at his shirt while he gives a faux laugh to appease them. He keeps watching, attention torn between the small flower he delicately holds, sweet smell seeping into the lines of his hands, and you. You, who keeps working as quietly as you can, trimming out the weaker flowers so the strong will shine through.

That night he presses a flower into his favorite book and hopes the smell never fades, nor this memory.

■

Instead of asking Nanny for stories or a snack before bed, he’d ask about you. Words travel as quick as fire amongst gossips and as good-natured as the woman who raised him is, she still finds entertainment in running her mouth and knowing too much. So, she’d tell him everything, and often. About how your father passed when you were young like his mother did, how your mother raised you in the small gardener’s house with a small bedroom shared between the two of you. About how your father and mother were the best gardeners they’ve ever had and you were developing your skills even quicker than them, like all of you had a sixth sense for nature. About how you don’t even know how to make or pour proper tea like most of the servants but survive through your skill, hands tracing vines, and keeping track of the tastiest fruit to share with the estate when the grapefruit and lemons bloom and ripen. About how on your eighteenth summer, only a few years ago, your mother passed and you now live alone in the gardener’s house. Even if he has heard it over and over again, he’d tug Nanny’s dress and wait for her to tell her more. Including the mundane about how you trip over yourself too often to count when you enter the house. As quick as fire — you’d hear about it from some other servant that joined you for dinner. Trying to hide heated cheeks and covering your face with the bread you eat. You’d say nothing for the time being, not wanting to drag him further down into a possible affair that would ruin you and him if he continued to pursue this childish crush. But each and every servant, especially the older ones, found it so endearing and just a bit as worrying. They still orchestrated to have you around even just a bit more so he would have more stories to listen to, and you’d slip out little facts about yourself knowing Miche would in the end hear those words. If not from your mouth, at least from someones.

■

Often Miche wonders why he was born at his stature. Not height, though it does become worrying when everybody shies away from him because of how tall he looms. His class stature. Money rolling off of everything he owns simply because of his blood and how he comes from a line of skilled detectives with a superior sense of smell that makes their job seem like child play. It’s not like he wants to spend his life sending you longing looks. The few times you’ve interacted carved into his mind, waiting for the time he doesn’t need to engrave and savor. They are few and far between with barely anything shared besides conversation and gentle innocent touches, loving looks with no words to address them.

Even when his father became ill, he sought you out before anybody else. You know how he longs for you, pulling at your heartstrings every time you catch his gaze. The first time he’s become vulnerable for anybody is when he caught your arm, late at night in the kitchens after arranging some citrus arrangements for his sick father. He’s silent at first, only a small huff through his nose while his hair covers his eyes. He doesn’t like his father, they never cared for each other particularly. It’s as if he barely knows the man, which may be the part that hurts his heart the most.

“Young lord-”

“No-” he sighs, fingers trailing around your wrists, “just Miche. For you, please, just Miche.”

Not once has he ever broken his tough demeanor, carefully crafted from a young age due to his upbringing, but now it’s crumbling even just a bit.

“M-Miche,” it feels unfamiliar but not unwelcome on your tongue, you can see how his muscles unravel at the sound of your voice. You have craved his touch and attention and now that it is night, inhibitions are lessened and comforted by the blanket of stars and quiet household, maybe accepting it isn’t too bad now. Hands gentle around his, realizing just how big they are in comparison to yours makes him huff in amusement. You can tell he doesn’t wish to talk about what plagues his mind, it’s not quite your business to ask either but you bring his hand up to your lips. Not kissing, just grazing over the writing callouses he’s developed and over the flushed joints. He leans forward, pressing you gently against the counter as he pulls his hand away from you. For a moment you’re worried you have overstepped your boundaries, misinterpreted something, but he presses your hands into his face. He looks so much more mature now than from when he stuttered to talk to you as a child. Eyebrows finally relaxed even just a bit from the forever intimidating scowl he wears, eyes closed and savoring your eternally calloused and injured hands running over his scruff. The sweetness from the flowers permeates your skin and the citrus you handled earlier slightly sours the scent. Nonetheless, it comforts him. Your warmth, your scent, and your gaze settled on him. He won’t lie and say he doesn’t like being the only one you’re looking at even if just for a moment. The curse of selfishness love brings upon an individual is unusual to him, you would think by now he would have gotten used to the sting that courses through his gut whenever he realizes over and over again that you are not his, and he is not yours.

Silence extending to the two of you before he presses a kiss into your knuckles, “you should come into the estate more often.”

“Inside would be strange for someone who takes care of plants,” you say, amused with how childlike he sounds despite his deep voice.

“There are plants inside.”

“The maids take care of them,” you caress a thumb over his lips as he sighs, “but I suppose arranging more vases wouldn’t be so bad.”

You cave all too easily for his puppy-dog eyes and the adoration hidden behind his words. But this is all you two can afford. Stolen touches and soft beginnings, hand pressed into his chest with a small kiss into his knuckles and both of you are ripped away from each other once again.

His gilded cage feels too tight.

■

At first, Erwin thought it was just a young man’s infatuation with another person his age. A young and childish crush on a pretty girl that smelled like flowers but gradually as they got older, the others of his social group realized it was much more.

Miche contemplates the scenes outside too sorrowfully for a man who is not mourning. It’s easy to see he’s trying to look for something or perhaps someone. Erwin caught on early why he gazes so strangely outside the window and how Miche twirls flowers between his fingers whenever there’s a vase of them around, fingers trailing along petals and putting them back trying to make the arrangement look undefiled.

For a skilled consultant detective, he leaves a horribly obvious trail.

“From what I know, you’re not supposed to be pursuing a servant,” a chess table sits between them, untouched for a moment for the sake of tea.

“You have no room to talk, Erwin,” he cuts a glance to Levi standing quietly until he scoffs at the insinuation. The red that invades his cheeks cannot be tsked away. They have all been together since they were children — there is no way Erwin and Levi’s secrecy could slip past him, Hanji, and Nile. Miche’s superior senses and being groomed into a detective, he was the first to figure it out. Nile did take much longer to catch on. Too busy chasing after his now soon-to-be wife.

“I’m aware,” he pauses to take a sip of his tea, “I simply said you’re not supposed to. I never said not to.”

Miche hides his face behind the teacup, cursing Erwin for saying anything because now he is putting agency behind his pining. But he is not like Erwin, someone who can be satisfied with secrecy, and he is not like Hanji, someone with a harem under the spell of their charms. He wants you to be his, shamelessly his, loudly and proudly his, and he wants to be shamelessly yours, to tell everybody that his love resides in a beautiful woman with calloused hands and a sweet voice.

He was never strong in the first place when it came to you but now it seems his strength is withering away completely.

■

Ever since Miche mentioned wanting you in the estate more, you have been learning some new skills. Who knew making potpourris could be so useful? The maids inside the estate seem to love them, making the closets smell sweet instead of stale, they even requested some for the bathrooms. You agreed as long as they could spare some cinnamon for you to use in it.

Late in the evening with a sheer bag of your homemade potpourri, you sneak into the household. Catching a glimpse of Miche is not exactly rare but definitely not as common as you both hope. Better than before but still not enough for either of you. There’s a place in your heart that craves to be completed and you know only Miche can satiate it.

What’s frustrating is that the dress code inside the estate is different, so you had to trade some fresh lavender for a pair of white stockings instead of your usual gardening attire. Your clumsiness rears its head once more, tripping on your way to the bathroom on the second story not even realizing Miche is there before he’s holding your arm so you don’t fall flat onto the floor.

It’s highly embarrassing. Tripping so messily in front of him. There’s an art in the way the rich ladies swoon and faint prettily so the one they want to court can catch them but that was nothing of the sort. You see this as an inconvenience not an art form, completely frazzled and stuttering but Miche sees a chance. Erwin’s innuendo bounces around in his head and before he even thinks, he’s pulling you into the bathroom with him, looking into the hallway before closing the door.

He finally takes a moment to process the situation. You and him are alone, in a secluded bathroom away from anybody at the moment. This may be the only chance he has at the moment to pursue you. But instead of being the suave bachelor he should be, he catches a whiff of the strong potpourri and stutters out, “what’s-what’s this?”

Watching a dignified man fall over himself is endearing, seeing his cheeks glow like when he was a kid and his green eyes look more lively when they catch yours, “Oh! I made it. To make places smell good...”

He nods, barely listening as he leans closer into you, pressing you against the sink counter. You are sure you sound foolish but neither of you are really paying attention to that, “you know we shouldn’t be alone together. If anybody sees us-”

“No one will, I promise.”

There’s a firm confidence in his voice you cannot deny, letting his hand trail up your arm and to your jaw.

“Can I?”

The possible consequences of your actions melt into puddles at his desperate look, begging and pleading even just for a kiss. You give in, nodding into his hand.

He’s unexpectedly... soft. Holding you like fine china with barely brave kisses, finally indulging in an almost life-long craving is euphoric. There is a small moan pressed into your connected lips and as soft as this moment is, knowing you make the only son of the renowned family of the Zacharius’ sound so pitiful is revitalizing, filling you with confidence that you never had the courage to grasp onto.

Grasping onto the lapels of his coat, you pull away just for a moment, feeling his hand trail down to the peaks of your ass. Just being touched by him sends heat coursing through your veins and puddling into your nethers. The tops of his cheeks to the tips of his ears are red as roses as he pushes out another request, “can I... touch you more, please?”

His age deceives him, now he looks so young and bashful that you cannot help but laugh, “have you never...?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just-” he curls down into your neck, “you’re different.” You’re special, is what he truly wants to say.

It is risky. Both of you in a stray bathroom in the estate, both of you of completely different class standings, both of you completely head over heels in love with each other. The warmth of his hands linger on every part of you they have touched, your jaw, your hips, your ass. Maybe the risk is worth it.

“Then touch me all you wish, I have no objections.”

Immediately his hands descend to your thighs, pushing up the uniform dress until he is able to feel your skin under a thin layer of stocking. Trailing his fingers to the warmest part between your legs and it isn’t until you are keening and gasping that he finally pulls you to sit in the chair present in the bathroom for visiting ladies purses. Miche is quick to be on his knees between your legs, working off your shoes to set a stocking-covered foot on the juncture of his thigh as he flips the skirt over his head. Now you cannot see him but you can feel him. Hot breath huffed against your thighs sending a shiver through you.

“You’ve served my family so well,” large hands around your ankle and thigh to keep you in place for him while he is kissing at your cunt through your stockings and panties, “let me serve you now.”

The kiss is a muted feeling because of the fabric but nonetheless, it makes you suck in a breath, watching his head move underneath the dress.

Part of him does not wish to cause you inconvenience but the impatience moves his hands before his mind catches up, blunt nails pinching at the fabric covering the place he can smell that is so purely you. Pinching until a little hole is created so he can wiggle a finger in and tear the fabric a big enough hole to reach your cunt. The rip startles you but the fact that he is desperate enough to act so beastly sends a shiver down your spine. God, this is the scent he could only catch a few rare times, the scent he fucks his fist to at night wishing it was you. But now is not the time to dream. His fantasy is brought to life before him, finally able to push your panties aside and stare at your cunt despite the darkness of your skirt covering him. He lets his hand ghost over your clit, savoring how your hips jump a bit, gathering your slick on his fingers and watching how it pulls thin only to finally put his mouth upon your mound. Not minding the curls accenting it or the lingering smell of soil permanently stuck to your skin. In fact, he prefers it because all of these traits are so distinctly you and he cannot get enough of the fact that he is between your legs and under your skirt.

A hot tongue presses firmly against your lower lips, licking in between until he is pushing his face nose deep into your cunt, nose knocking against your clit as his tongue works around your hole. Your head falls slack against the wall, you fold the leg he is not holding against the chair next to his head as your other foot knocks against his growing bulge. Even just feeling his member beneath your covered foot makes your eyes widen because of the size and how desperately his hips chase the pressure. He’s fumbling to hold your leg firmly against his tightened pants, pushing your ankle against his cock as he devours your cunt with dedication. You wish you could at least see him in his full glory but for now, you are satisfied with this.

If anything, you would compare him to a desperate dog humping your leg and lapping at your nethers like it is his last meal on this earthly plane. You find your hands wanting to dig into his hair but the best they can do is clench the fabric over his head. Your hips are following the flow of his tongue, his other hand placed on them to guide your juicy cunt into his mouth while he moans into it. You can just barely feel the edges of his scruff scratch at the sensitive skin around your inner thighs and cunt. The depth of his voice reverberates through your clit and you can feel an orgasm march steadily along your belly while Miche continuously rolls his hips into your ankle. He could cum just from the smell of your cunt sticking to his lips and nose, just imagine how he feels right now.

But he keeps his pace steady despite some of your squirming, licking until he feels his scruff is soaked by your cum and immediately sets to work on cleaning up your juices with his tongue. You keep a hand over your mouth to muffle your sounds. One last thrust into your leg and he is falling apart quickly, cum sticking to his underwear as his hand roughly grips your thigh so he does not moan loud enough to attract any unwanted onlookers. If only you could see how his eyes roll back and his jaw clench.

Again, you feel a hot breath against your thighs as he shifts your panties over your soaked cunt. He pulls back as you gather your skirt to your hips so you can see him and what a sight it is. Heady green eyes and breathless pants paired with disheveled hair and a wet face and beard, licking his lips and huffing through his nose until most of your juices are gone with his tongue and fingers assistance.

Your hand is still present over your mouth, almost frozen in shock about how both you and Miche crossed a line that cannot be uncrossed. Not that you exactly care anymore, your hands pull his face to yours and into another long-winded kiss where you can taste your own juices and his soft tongue once more.

Reluctantly, he pulls back, adjusting your shoes back onto your feet and leaving a wet kiss to your inner thigh before helping you up.

“I should... wash up. You leave before me,” he presses soft kisses onto your scarred knuckles, turning you toward the door with a tap on your ass that leaves you giggling out a farewell.

Next time he wants to see your face when you cum. He would forfeit heaven and earth just experience you once again.

■

The local police came to him with a theft case not long after you two’s... endeavor. Since he has been busy with that, he has not been able to see you besides the occasional glances into the garden. The case was relatively easy too, despite having to pick up for his father’s lack of presence due to his illness that is slowly chipping away at his life. The theft is either the victim’s brother or his brother’s wife and now it is up to the cops to figure it out and knowing them, it will be a slow process with too much paperwork. Miche can already feel the forming headache swelling on his temporal lobe and has already asked one of the maids present to whip up some soothing tea. Chamomile cannot fix his problems but it can make the stress knot in his shoulders untangle just a bit.

What you did not expect is the said maid shoving the tray of tea into your hands, trading them for the rose potpourri you were delivering to Nanny and pushing you in the directions of Miche’s office. Obviously, she took the chance for you and Miche to interact some more, spurring on the continuation of forbidden love even if it was partially for their entertainment. First of all, you do not even know how to pour tea. You are not a maid, you were never trained in that area but put some garden shears in your hands and you could make the garden look pretty as a painting. It shouldn’t be too hard, right?

Wrong. Your hands are already shaking when you meet Miche’s eyes, his eyebrows shooting to his eyebrows and cheeks flushing, memories rushing back into your minds. The heat of his eyes travels up your neck as you silently set the teacup down beside him. For a second, he observes quietly, letting his eyes venture over you and huffing in amusement with how untrained you seem in pouring tea but enjoying it nonetheless.

But he wants his hands to adventure you, letting his fingers rest on the back of your knee that just barely peeks out of the skirt while you pour as if asking for permission. You throw a glance at him and a nod, setting the teapot onto the desk, bracing yourself on the wood as his hand quickly travels to your inner thighs. Pulling you closer to him with a firm grip on your thigh only for him to pause when he feels the torn edges of the previous wound he inflicted upon the stockings you are currently wearing.

“You’re wearing the same stockings?” he whispers fervently, dropping the paperwork in his other hand in shock.

“Well-” you wish you could explain that these are the only stockings you have and how a hole in the crotch does not necessarily make them unwearable and you do not feel like trading more things for a pair of tights you never wear except inside the estate. If only you knew what that does to him, cock already hardening in his pants at the memories and feeling of your soft skin underneath his fingers. Instead, he pulls his chair back, pulling you to sit in his lap as you catch a glance of someone from across the room. Your heart almost bursts out of your chest before you realize that someone is just you, a reflection in a mirror set against a display case. He adjusts to let your legs be opened wide by his. It does not matter if you crush him or not. You could crush his lungs, and he would still try to let his last breaths be of you.

He can see how the overfilled cup of tea sloshes over the rim but more importantly, he can see your embarrassed face in the reflection of the mirror. A mirror he has been meaning to move somewhere else but is glad he has let it stay at least this long in his office. Fingers trail over your exposed panties, pushing into your clit. The way you moan his name sounds like melted honey over his heart but your expressions are more sinful than anything he has ever seen. Contorting with a bitten lip while his fingers soak themselves with your juices. The only thing of his that has been inside you is his tongue but now he feels the plush hotness wrap around his digits, crooking up into the softest parts you are unable to reach yourself.

Both of you know someone could come in or be listening so you try to keep yourself quiet but with how he is pulling the most unholy sounds out of your body. Letting his fingers dip deep inside you to curl and watching with a chin on your shoulder how your mouth opens in a panting moan. You can feel his cock sitting heavy against your ass, rocking back to please him even if a fraction of the pleasure he is giving you. He takes a firm hand to your breasts to make you lean back into him, holding you firm almost wishing you two could melt into each other as your cunt swallows at least three of his twisting fingers. He wishes he could see how your wet pussy takes his fingers in the mirror but his desk cuts off the image. Your face is plenty enough for him to enjoy, as well as the smell of your cunt permeating the air around him, causing his hips to rock into your ass steadily. He watches you intently until your eyes meet his in the mirror, feeling your insides clench sporadically and having to bring his thumb into your mouth to muffle your loudness.

Maybe one day your voice can be set fully free for him to enjoy. But for now, he savors how your cunt soaks his fingers and how your tongue wraps readily around his finger. Panting in his lap, you grind backward, meeting his desperate grinds until he is finishing in his underwear once again.

Miche holds no shame in finishing in his pants as long as you are pleased before it. Though the temptation to feel your cunt wrapped around his cock instead of his fingers settles in quickly. You catch your breath while leaning back onto him, letting him press kisses into your neck and up behind your ear, letting your hand comb through his hair. There are wishes floating between the both of you of how you wish you two could stay in each other's arms a little longer. But before duty can call both of you away, there is a hesitant knock upon the door causing both of you to fly away from each other, his hands coming to flip your skirt down over your ass and you giving him a handkerchief to clean his fingers off on before the maid that attends to his father peaks in.

“Young lord, your father...”

And with a sorrowful squeeze on your hips, he leaves to follow her, unable to meet your eyes.

■

If Miche could see the inner workings of his gilded cage, he can also see the lock that keeps him in it — His father, currently teetering on the edges of consciousness and the call of death. A sickness that struck him in his old age and kept him bedridden for at least two years.

It is not that he wants his father to die. He would not wish death upon anybody, he just wishes his father was able to understand his passions or him at all before he leaves this world. But instead, he keeps his infatuations secret otherwise running the risk of being disowned despite being the only son. He wishes he could show his father how beautiful the garden you tend is, how beautiful you are. How he would risk everything to be with you, how if you could just hold your hand in front of his father even he’d be able to see...

How if his father could just wake up. But instead, he sleeps. Peacefully, almost suspiciously so. The maid was right to get him. The doctors say his time is approaching and Miche has to make the decision to keep him alive but unconscious or pass away peacefully.

It takes five days for Miche to decide.

It takes five days to plan the funeral as well.

This is one request you wish you never had to fulfill. Preparing arrangements of lilies for the funeral of the father of the man you love. It is not strange to not speak to each other for days but this is different. This time sorrow pulls him away from the one thing that could ease this pain. But for a moment as you prepare the flowers in the church for the service, he is able to be alone with you once more.

You wish you could see him wearing a black tux in a different context. Instead, his eyes are darkened, looking as if he hasn’t slept in days. Cautiously, you let your eyes wander around the church making sure no one besides you and him are present before running into his arms. Leaning into his warmth as he takes a deep breath, curling into you.

The church is completely silent before you speak, “I’m sorry-”

“Don’t.”

How many times has he heard “I’m sorry for your loss” in the past few days? He is tired of it. Tired of being reminded how he probably is not as sad as he should be for his father’s death. The only person that did not say the usual line was Erwin, who clapped his back and said “some doors close for others to open.”

“I wish I could help,” you let your hands rub across his back as he rocks the both of you.

“You are.”

“The flowers don’t count-”

“Not with the flowers.”

You go silent once again, letting him hold you just to find some respite before pulling away. He needs to be the official lord of the estate now, composed and elegant to greet people and thank them for coming. Calloused thumbs smelling of lilies brush over his cheeks before he is pulled back with the sounds of expensive shoes hitting the wooden floor of the church.

Miche hates the smell of lilies.

■

Five more days until Miche is able to reach out again. A note with fancy script you can barely read delivered to you by a giggling maid saying, “Bring camellia’s to my chambers tonight.”

Camellias are still in season luckily. Heart beating fast as you cut some flora at his request, finally you get to see him once more.

The blanch whites and biting red of the camellias do not exactly make the most beautiful arrangement, but they look sweet, almost childish with each other. As you work on different parts of the garden your foot taps the grass flat out of nervousness and you keep glancing towards the sun as if the evening could come any sooner.

Miche himself is pacing back and forth in his room, glancing at a dusty book that has not been touched in years before adjusting a blanket over a chair.

Just as the sun sets your impatience gets the best of you, gathering your bundle of flowers before trying to sneak into the estate without anybody seeing you on your way to Miche. It would just be more of a hassle to be interrogated by other maids or worse, Nanny. But before you manage to knock on his door it is swung open and you are pulled into a kiss that steals your breath. You are trying to mumble against his lips that someone will see the two of you but he only pulls back for a moment.

“And? I am the lord of the house now. It doesn’t matter.” You suppose it doesn’t.

“I could take you against every wall of this house, they can’t do anything.”

You smack his chest with the flowers as he gives you a playful smile, kissing you loudly in the hallway before pulling you into his room. He sits you on the edge of his bed as he walks to his bookshelf, leaving your eyes to wander. Old fencing swords on display, his family crest messily embroidered into a piece of fabric, some stray chess pieces scattering the countless amount of bookshelves present. There is even a vase filled with a variety of dried flowers that you recognize from the garden you have tended since you were young.

There is a quiver in his step as he retrieves a dusty book from the shelf, nerves making his leg shake as he sits next to you. He’s acting too formal, it makes you stiffen and shift your full attention as he clears his throat.

“Do you remember when we were young, in the garden?” Tilting your head you almost say there were plenty of times when you two were young and in the garden, but the most memorable one was when he was staggering and lanky, walking up to you red as a sunburn and leaving with a flower pressed into his palm.

“That time you asked me what flowers were?”

Miche’s face turns just as red as when he walked up to you as a young boy, still the memory haunts him but more than anything he remembers how hopeless he felt after he held a small flower in his hands, knowing he could never truly pursue you. Until now.

There is a flattened pink disc that still lingers with the sweet scent of camellia. Something close to jasmine that has long seeped into the pages of the book. It contrasts the fresh red and white flowers in your hands so readily, freshly bloomed in the spring sun and picked just for him.

“Yes,” he clears his throat once more, hoping his nerves will clear with it, and sets the dried flower into the palm of yours. Of course, you remember this. A bloom you snipped too short that your mother would have scolded you for if she saw. A bloom you gave to him hoping it would satisfy the want in his eyes.

It was when he realized his gilded cage was too tight. A gilded cage that now has no lock, door swinging open for Miche to finally stretch his wings.

“I am the lord of the house now,” you nod, wondering at what he is getting at, “and I am the last Zacharius,” uhhuh, “and the police won’t stop working with me even if I run the chance of losing my social status...”

The blood in your body rushes to your face so quickly it almost makes you dizzy. He holds your hands, thumbing over the fresh flower petals before kissing your knuckles of the hand that holds the dried flower.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“Unless you don’t want me to say it.”

Tears are gathering in your eyes and you can’t help but smack his broad chest with flowers over and over until he is giggling and fallen flat into the bed beside you. Letting the petals fly across the sheets until you are fully satisfied with the hits you have served. The singular dried pink flower is amongst the carnage of petals, discarded and forgotten in the sheets.

“Can I take that as a yes?”

You swing a leg over his hips, “yes. Always yes.”

He gives you a boyish smile of true excitement before he leans up to trap you in his arms, pulling you into a kiss filled with smiles and giggles.

“Since you are on top of me...” he sets your hips closer to his, letting his slowly growing bulge be known.

“You’ve become less gentlemanly with me, it seems.”

“I will always be a gentleman to you, my love, let’s say I am now more honest, shall we?”

You hum into his lips, letting his hands venture underneath your more casual dress to feel bare skin, ghosting over your ass only to feel no presence of panties.

“If innuendos make me ungentlemanly, what does no panties make you?” he breathes against your lips.

A whisper of “who knows” is the response he receives before you are rolling your hips into him, capturing him in another messy kiss as his hands meld into the fat of your behind, guiding you in your grinds. Intoxicating, every kiss you allow him only pulls him further into the mix of you and flower petals.

It only takes a moment to flip the two of you, letting him push your dress up until you are pulling it off yourself. Miche sits back to watch for a moment, letting his eyes adventure across the body he has never fully seen but craves more than anything before he unbuttons his own shirt. Slowly, almost temptingly so until he reveals himself fully to you. The hunger to see him in his full glory finally satisfied and glory is the most accurate word to describe him. Strength set in his broad shoulders and chest with a bit of pudge settling on his belly decorated with a brunette happy trail leading to the biggest cock you have ever had the pleasure of seeing. Intimidatingly big, accented by heavy balls with cute curls. He lets you stare as he does the same, the last of the setting sun shining through the window to shine on your skin along with some of the petal carnage sticking to your body. It is only when you close your legs after shifting your gaze that he settles on the bed once more, kissing the tops of your knees

“Must you really hide from me?” He has been knuckle and tongue deep inside you, it is long past the time for such shy, albeit adorable, actions.

You bloom into his embrace, letting your legs fall open to frame his own and his eyes settle straight onto your cunt. He gives a sly boyish smile, licks his lips, and before you can close your legs with a squeal of “don’t stare!” he dives down. Once again letting you feel the softness of his tongue on your lower lips and clit, gathering spit onto your clit to let slide between your folds to your hole to help with the next step.

It is a quick kiss to your cunt before he pulls himself up and over your body, rubbing his scruff along your neck before letting the tip of his cock tease your clit. A soft exhale of his name breathed against his hair, and he kisses your jaw, mumbling into your ear, “can I?”

Your nails make residence on his back as you echo your previous words, “always yes.”

Once more he captures your lips, swallowing your gasps as his tip stretches you out slowly. Part of him wishes to see how your pussy blossoms open at the coaxing of his cock but he would much rather experience your first official time together up close. Hearing every moan and hiss he pulls from you and feeling your nails scratch against his back. Resisting the temptation to cum immediately when he feels the softness of your cunt wrapping around him.

But he pauses when you whisper a small ow, not pushing any further until you say and peppering kisses onto your eyelids as you sigh in pleasure. Now you know for sure he is definitely big enough to hurt, “damnit.”

“Sorry love, almost halfway I promise.”

Half? Halfway? “Almost halfway?”

His chuckle reverberates through you, embarrassed with how you are implying how even half of his cock is hard to take. He pushes another kiss onto your lips, rolling his hips in and outwards only a tad to soak more of your juices on his cock. Inch by inch he sinks into you, pulling back whenever he feels your face grimace to coat his cock with more of your self-produced lube, thankful you are aroused enough to even produce any. Until he is fully seated within you, even him not moving makes you breathless.

Hands press into your cheeks making your eyes open to look into his. A beautiful green no plant could ever wish to achieve. He whispers against your lips once more, asking for a sign to make sure you are ready and quickly you answer back yes. Locking your legs behind his thighs to roll back into his, the stretch is stinging at first but the more thrusts he sends into you the less of a problem it becomes. Eyes rolling back into your head and mouth open to let moans fly free, the pleasure is nothing compared to his fingers or his tongue. His member hits the softest parts inside of your walls, pulling an orgasm out of you before you even realize it. He holds you as you spasm around him, letting your nails dig into his back and resisting the urge to cum with you.

Patiently, he waits until you are trying to catch your breath to pull out, tugging his cock covered in your juices to spill his cum onto your belly. Later, he will think about the possibility of having children. For now, he wants to enjoy every moment with you, just you.

More kisses are pressed into your face that you gladly return, letting him rest above you in a comfortable cage. However, the night is just beginning — why waste the dark embrace of the stars with sleep?

■

Late in the morning, there is a knock on Miche’s door which tears his warmth away from you. Throwing a robe on before peeking the door open to see Nanny standing there with a smile on her age-worn face. His heart drops to his toes, knowing that your endeavors will now be shared with every single servant in the house if they did not happen to hear them last night.

“Should we bring you two breakfast — no, lunch — in bed?”

There is a blush settled in his cheeks because essentially he is being teased by the woman who raised him but he only mutters out a yes please, before making his way back to the bed to curl around you once more. A warm hand placed over your puffy and abused mound to ease at least some of the sourness settling in. But at least finally you two get to bask in the heat of each other in the comfort of his own bed, even if there are still flower petals sticking to both of your bodies.

■

“You didn’t have to do this.”

“But I did,” Erwin adjusts his tie in the mirror, one set against a display case in Miches office. As much as Miche objected at first, it was easy for Erwin to become an Officiant and Miche will forever be grateful for why.

A pretty silver band set with precious stones is twisted around between Miches fingers. Erwin speaks up once again, “Nervous?”

“No,” he huffs out of his nose, “excited.”

■

Never once in your life have you imagined maids fretting over you like a highborn lady. Adjusting your dress and hair until you have to shoo them away otherwise you would go mad. You aren’t exactly sure how fancy ladies stand so many hands on them. It is not a huge voluptuous dress either, you did not want one. The maid dresses were even too fancy for your taste, becoming all too accustomed to overalls caked with soil or casual dresses with branch-tugged tears. It hurts knowing nobody but his friends will be here, neither of your parents being alive to see how happy the two of you are but you know your mother would scold you with tears in her eyes and kiss your forehead to know how proud she is of you. You are not sure what your father would have done but if he loved you as much as your mother claimed, you hope he loves the happiness you are experiencing as well.

Levi is waiting at the door for your arm. After becoming close to him throughout a year of officially being Miche’s partner, you two have grown close, bonding over being born in lower status’ than your lovers and teasing the both of them when they show particularly pompous attitudes. And whenever Hanji would flirt, instead of being met with heat down your neck like it was at first, you throw playful quips back until they are keeling over, laughing their heart out.

Levi is silent, but he tucks a red camellia behind your ear with a hand lingering on your cheek. You are lucky he even decided to show affection but you know everything he does comes from a pure place in his heart.

The ceremony is informal, only you and his friends beside another maid and Nanny that has been keen on getting you and Miche together present. Erwin is there to officiate and Levi steps on his foot to cut a soon-to-be long speech short so you two can shut up and kiss already, in Levi’s words.

If only Erwin, Levi, Hanji, Nile and his wife knew what that garden has seen in the early hours of the morning when both you and Miche were struck with the idea of fulfilling a fantasy. Then surely they would not be stepping around the base of the grapefruit tree so casually. The maids already know — quick as fire, remember?

Miche Zacharius has seen the inner workings of his own gilded cage since he was young. But now, finally after all these years, he can experience the life he has always wished for, filled with freedom and passion blowing under his stretched wings.

𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰: @kenmachishi @novvabeam @armins-bowl-cut @yourtamaki @jeonmahito @peachysimp @thethyri @bakugos-cumsock @peachy-momos @tetsunormous @ixwrites @bakugohoex @iwaizoomies @ectacy @bunnelliee @snkfade @iiraven @babieweeb @dancingazaleas @jellyfiishing @flamingblinglove @whats-her-quirk @venenat3d @erenpapi @ive-always-hated-you @michezacharias-wiki

𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔨 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔯𝔢𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔤 !! ʕ◔ᴥ◔ʔっ♥

Did you enjoy? remember any and all feedback and thoughts are appreciated and enjoyed. I’m sending you love and well wishes.

//: 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Unspoken

Summary: Dean is cursed with the inability to speak unless a cure can be found. It begins to wear on him in more ways than one...

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 1,800ish

Warnings: language

“Stay down,” said Dean, aiming his gun at the witch.

“Why don’t you shut up,” she said, throwing something at Dean. You both shot and she was dead like that but Dean had a hand on his throat, turning to you with a bit of panic in his eyes.

“Dean!” you said, expecting him to start gasping that he couldn’t breathe but it never came. Dean only continued to claw at his throat, opening his mouth and staring at you. “What’d she do?”

You watched him move his lips and even his tongue but not a whisper came out, no sound at all. He looked like he was trying to shout but there was nothing, Dean spinning around.

“You can’t talk?” you asked, Dean nodding as he found a piece of paper and a pen, jotting something down quick.

Can breathe. No talking though. Find spellbook.

“Alright. You look down here. I’ll take upstairs.”

About an hour later, Dean was poking his head in a room, tossing a notebook at you before walking away.

Found it. Doesn’t mention anything. I dealt with the witch. I grabbed the book so let’s go home. Maybe Sam can figure it out.

“Well, I’m sure this will be an enjoyable drive home.”

“Wait. So you can’t talk?” said Sam. Dean rolled his eyes and rested his head on his hands. “Really?”

“Yes, Sam. He’s cursed or under a spell. Help me figure this out, alright?” you said. Sam held up his hands, chuckling a little. “Sam.”

“Hey, compared to the usual crap that happens to us, at least this isn’t so bad, right? It’s not trying to kill him at least,” said Sam.

Dean sighed but gave a half-hearted smile and nodded. He waved and you followed after to the library, each one of you heading off to do your own research.

Hopefully you could find a cure soon.

Four Months Later

Sam was off on another random lead that probably wouldn’t pan out. You’d managed to find a nice and easy ghost hunt but you couldn’t even drag Dean along with you. That was your rule. It was too dangerous to bring him along when he couldn’t talk. It was strange how everything around him seemed to mute. Plates didn’t make noise when they stacked together. Chairs didn’t scrape along the floor. The shower was silent whenever he took one.

He was like a ghost. Except those made sound on occasion.

“Dean. Let’s get out of the bunker, go do something fun,” you said, poking your head in your room. Dean was nowhere to be found. You checked the garage next, Baby still parked in there, no sign of him. “Dean! Where are you?”

You hoped that didn’t make him mad. He’d been having a bad week. Worse than normal which was saying something. You knew he was reaching his breaking point even if he kept it to himself.

“Dean,” you said again, wandering to your old bedroom, finding him sat on top of the bed, staring at you when you walked in. “Baby. What-”

He tossed his little whiteboard across the room and you took a seat beside him, Dean turning his head away.

“I love you,” you said, wrapping your arms around him, giving him a kiss. “I know this is hard and I miss talking to you. So let’s talk, okay?”

He tilted his head and moved to stand but you kept him in place.

“Maybe the conversation is going to be a bit one sided but we can still talk, can’t we?” you asked. He nodded, looking over to where he’d thrown his whiteboard. He went to grab it but you shook your head.

“What?” he mouthed. You pressed your lips to his, gently laying the two of you back. He blinked when you moved away, eyes watching your hand slide up into his hair. Your fingers ran through his stands, green eyes flickering up and back to your face. He was thinking, trying to understand as you grabbed his shoulder and moved his head, resting it closer to your own. You smiled as he kept watching you, still thinking.

“For all the things I hate about this situation, you know what I love? Whenever I tell you how amazing you are, how wonderful and good and handsome and strong and intelligent and witty and awesome you are, you can’t make that tsk noise or scoff or sigh or grumble or interrupt to tell me I’m wrong. You have to sit back and take it,” you said.

He gave you a bitch face, rolling his eyes as you kept playing with his hair. He started to nuzzle into the touch though, his face turning soft.

“I love you,” you said. He nodded and pecked a kiss on the top of your nose, big green eyes staring softly. “I know you love me too, Dean.”

He let out a silent breath of air, pulling you flush to him.

“I don’t care what happens. I’m with you,” you said.

He smiled and grabbed your hand, pressing it flat against his chest and over his heart. You felt his heartbeat and smiled.

Two Months Later

“Dean! Lunch is ready!” you shouted from the kitchen. “Bacon lettuce tomato with extra bacon for you!”

You waited a beat, no tuft of brown hair coming around the corner. You grabbed his plate and drink, carrying them out to the library where Dean was researching again.

“You want to eat in here?” you asked. Dean lifted his head and shook it, waving you over. “You don’t want bacon...okay. That’s not concerning or anything.”

He tapped his book and you set the food down, peering over his shoulder.

“A transference spell? You want to transfer it to someone else?” you asked. Dean nodded, tossing his whiteboard at you.

We can’t break it so let’s move it. Move the spell to someone it won’t affect, like someone in a coma that’s never going to wake up. You think that would work?

“Actually, that’s not a half-bad idea,” you said. “Lunch first and then we’ll see if it’s possible.”

“It was a good try,” you said that night. Dean was in the gym, smacking hits against the punching bag. “We’ll get your voice back.”

He looked around the bag, taking deep pants, hitting it once more.

“Dean,” you said, his face scrunching up as he swung again. Hard. He did it a few times, the bag bouncing around, Dean not letting up until he was breathing hard, falling down onto his butt. He shut his eyes and put his head between his knees.

You sat beside him, Dean letting you pull off his boxing gloves. You frowned when you saw he’d cut up his knuckles.

“Let’s clean this up,” you said when his breathing was more even. He followed you to the kitchen, his head low as you wiped down the cuts and dried it off. “I can’t imagine how hard this is. I can’t. But if you need to go and let your anger out, you will do it the right way. Tape up your hands next time, Ali.”

He nodded, glancing up through his eyelashes.

“What would you like for dinner?” you asked. He shrugged. “Pizza?”

“Uf,” you heard him say, both of you wide eyed. “Igaf!”

“You can talk!” you said. Dean did a fist pump and jumped up and down, his sneakers making the cement floor smack. “Sammy! I think the curse is broken!”

“Really? That’s awesome!” he shouted back, wandering into the kitchen after a moment. Dean was still making baby noises though and he was quickly frowning. “So it’s been about six months. Could have been a timing thing.”

“Yeah,” you said, staring at Dean.

“Ea,” he said, pouting. “Ea icese.”

“I have no idea what he’s trying to say,” said Sam.

“Dean,” you said.

“Ea,” said Dean, finding one of his white boards laying around.

I’m trying to say Dean Winchester. That’s all that comes out. It’s like my mouth doesn’t know how to make the sound.

“Y/N. This may sound strange but...I think I know what the witch did,” said Sam. “I read about it like, years ago.”

“Don’t keep us in suspense, Sam,” you said, Dean throwing up his hands.

“Infantiliccum curse. Six month initial period,” he said.

“Well what is it?”

“I think Dean is very lucky that witch only decided to mess with his voice,” said Sam. “It basically reverts whatever the witch chooses in the afflicted to become that like an infant. Babies can’t talk right? Dean couldn’t talk. The other sound thing might have been a side effect.”

“Yeah but he knows how to talk. Why-“

“Yeah, he does but this is the part Dean’s gonna be pissed about. There’s another six months before it fully wears off,” said Sam.

“Ic uns!” said Dean, his face scrunched up. “Fff mfh uc afh!”

“Pretty sure there was an f bomb in there somewhere,” you said. Dean nodded, glaring at Sam.

“Hey, I said fully reversed. Maybe now you can like, learn to talk again in the meantime,” said Sam. “Get some phrases back.”

Dean growled but he still smiled at being able to make sound.

“I think that’s a good idea. I’m sure you’ll pick it up fast.”

“I know this one’s hard,” you said about a week later, holding up a flash card.

“Owiop,” said Dean, opening his mouth wide. “Owiop. Uckin etter. I ate tat etter.”

“L’s are hard. Come on. Tongue up behind your teeth, narrow your cheeks in and drop your jaw. Lollipop.”

“Ollipop,” he said with a bit of a smile. “Oll...Lol...ipop. Loll...ipop. Lollipop. Uck it L’s. I ot tis now.”

“You want to take a break? We’ve been going all morning,” you said.

He just smiled and stared at you.

“I love you,” he said, no struggle this time.

“Been waiting a long time to hear that again,” you said, kissing him for a few long moments.

“Tank you,” he said. “Th...ank you.”

“Thank you for trying. We keep working it and you’ll be back to your old self in no time,” you said.

“Love you,” he said, kissing you again.

“I love you too, Dean. Even when you couldn’t say it, I knew baby. I always knew.”