#especially since these two can’t communicate for the life of them

[chahnniesroom]

coming up roses

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: most of the time, you're grateful to have such a good relationship with your older brother, minho. but when you find yourself falling for his best friend, chan, you can't help but be worried how he'll react when he finds out. you soon find yourself struggling with the unexpected consequences of keeping your feelings a secret.

word count: 10.2k

tags/warnings: hanahaki!au (read a/n), brother's best friend!au, hurt/comfort, angst, lots of fluffy sibling dynamics between minho and y/n, bad communication by the reader, mentions of: coughing, blood, and vomiting

read it on ao3 | masterlist

a/n: i have finally written my hanahaki au!!! this took me ages, but i really really wanted to write a fic based on how this post describes hanahaki because i love this interpretation (hanahaki is from supressing feelings instead of unrequited love) a lot more than how it's usually written (not that that version is bad!). i actually wish i could have drawn this out more, but didn't have it in me haha

the phrase "it's all coming up roses" means that everything is going well with someone and i thought it was so perfectly ironic for a hanahaki fic where a character actually has roses coming up in the literal sense.

Minho has always been protective. You had felt cool and invincible as a child, having an older brother that was willing to have your back and scare away anybody that teased you. 

You’re grateful that he cares enough to be so involved in your life, but now that you’re in university, you can’t help but feel a little stifled. Minho takes his role as an older brother very seriously, especially since the two of you have moved out of your family home and are sharing an apartment closer to campus. It's a mixture of doting and enough teasing to drive you crazy.

Growing up, your family home had been the regular haunt of Minho and his friends. It was more common than not to get home from cram school and find the boys either lingering in the nearest convenience store or hanging out in your apartment. You wouldn't say that you were friends with the boys, but you were at least familiar enough that you would say hi to them if you saw them in the hallways and they would offer to walk home with you if you were ever leaving school at the same time.

Starting university had been hard for you, most of your friends had ended up moving to other cities or even going abroad. You, however, had decided to stick closer to home. Your program had a good reputation and your parents had promised that they would help you and Minho get an apartment close to campus as long as you lived together. Minho had readily agreed, he had commuted for his first year and had always complained about how long it took.

It was a difficult adjustment, moving out of your family home, balancing your course load, and making friends. Unlike Minho, who had used dance to find his close group of friends, you didn't have any hobbies that you were particularly passionate about and you weren't naturally outgoing or charismatic.

Especially in the first few weeks of classes, it feels like such a relief whenever you see one of Minho's friends that you latch onto them. It’s kind of awkward at first, especially because you don’t know his friends well enough to speak with them casually, but they get used to your presence. You would even consider some of them to be your friend, especially Seungmin, who shares a class with you, and Chan who usually has his lunch break at the same time as you.

You make your own friends eventually, slowly getting to know some of the people that share your program, but you’re definitely a lot closer to the boys than you were prior to university. While you spent most of your childhood calling Minho and his friends lame, you can now admit that you enjoy spending time with them, although you’d never say it to Minho’s face.

Still, Minho doesn’t always approve of who or where you hang out. Sometimes he’s even nosier than your parents were, always asking you about your schedule and calling when you’re out late. He warns you about spending time one-on-one with men and makes sure that you always have your location shared with him. You tolerate it for the most part, knowing that it’s his way of showing that he cares about you, but sometimes you just find him overbearing.

—

“I’m going out next Saturday,” Minho tells you one evening as you step out of your room to get a glass of water. “You’ll have to figure out something for dinner on your own.”

“Oh,” you say, suddenly a little nervous. “I uh- I also have plans that night.”

“Sure,” he agrees easily. “What are you going to be doing?”

“There’s a party that I was invited to,” you say, biting your lip when you see Minho freeze. You turn your gaze to the ground, but you can still feel Minho's stare intensify. 

“What party,” he demands, not even bothering to frame it as a question.

“Does it matter?” you whine, annoyed by how protective Minho is. It’s even worse that you have an audience, Chan is over and you can see out of the corner of your eye that he’s watching your conversation curiously.

“Yes.” His tone leaves no room for argument.

“I think it's at Taehoon's,” your voice is barely a whisper. Minho hears you anyway.

“Taehoon?” He repeats in disbelief. You glance up briefly. Minho's ears are flushed bright red and the tendons in his neck are standing out. He's furious. “Taehoon, who is four years older than you? Taehoon, who holds off-campus parties?”

You grimace and don't respond. There’s no way that he’s going to let you go, you resign yourself to a weekend stuck in your room watching dramas while your friends enjoy themselves. 

It’s bad enough that you had to mention Taehoon, who doesn’t have the best reputation, but you’ve forgotten that Minho would easily be able to recognize the type of party that he throws. You haven’t been to many university parties, but even you know that without the dorm restrictions, off-campus parties are often the wildest and were harder to get invited to. It’s not that you particularly care to attend this party in specific, you just don’t want to miss out since all of your friends will be there.

“Minho,” Chan steps in, clasping a heavy hand on your brother's shoulder.

“Who invited you,” Minho seethes, shaking Chan off.

“Just one of my friends,” you deflect.

“Minho,” Chan says again, this time jostling Minho enough that he turns his attention away from you finally. Your body sags in relief. “Chill, we're going to Taehoon's next weekend. It's just a party.”

“Yes, we are going. Not my baby sister! Y/n-ah, the answer is no.”

“Oppa!” you complain. “I'm not a baby anymore!”

“You don't know anything,” Minho hisses at you. 

“We were going to way crazier parties when we were Y/n's age,” Chan interrupts one more time. “Come on, at least we'd be able to keep an eye on her.”

Minho is about to reply when he stops and tilts his head in thought.

“Okay,” he says slowly, turning back to you with a gleam in his eye. “You can go, Y/n.”

“Really?” you brighten instantly even though you’re a little bit suspicious of his sudden change in heart.

Your breath catches in your throat as you excitedly make eye contact with Chan. He winks at you teasingly before turning his full attention back to Minho, who thankfully hadn’t noticed.

“You're coming with us,” Minho says, nodding decisively.

“Are you kidding me,” you reply flatly, all enthusiasm vanishing instantly.

“Yes. I'll make sure that everybody knows not to mess with you and you still can have fun with your silly little friends. Unless you don't want to go anymore?” Minho raises an eyebrow at you.

“Fine, I'll go with you,” you grumble.

“It'll be fun, Y/n! I promise that I won’t let Minho embarrass you,” Chan says, slinging an arm around your shoulder. You try not to shiver as he leans in to whisper to you, close enough that you can almost feel his lips touching your ear. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to find something or someone to distract him enough that he’ll forget you’re even there.”

“Okay,” you breathe shakily.

“Hey!” Minho pulls Chan off of you and into a headlock. “Whatever you’re scheming, cut it out. Y/nnie, don’t listen to a single thing this idiot tells you.”

“I try not to listen to idiots,” you say. “That’s why I never follow any of the advice that you give me!”

“Y/n-ah-” Minho starts.

You stick out your tongue at him childishly then dart to your room, slamming the door and locking it behind you so that Minho can’t follow you. The sound of Chan’s resulting laugh echoes through your head for the rest of the day.

—

By the time the weekend rolls around, you're a little worried that you’ve caught a cold. Your throat is achy and talking too much makes you cough, but you're not feeling any other symptoms so you don't think you're actually sick. Minho wasn't exactly pleased when you told him you were still planning on going, but he kept his word and didn't try to convince you otherwise.

Your friends are all getting ready together at one of their dorms, but your brother was adamant that he wanted you to go to the party with him and his friends. You're more comfortable getting changed and doing your makeup at home anyway, so it's not a big deal, but it's still not the same. 

Conversation pauses when you finally exit your room. Only Chan, Hyunjin, and Minho are still in the living area since most of Minho's friends are crowded around your apartment's entryway, shuffling to get their jackets and put on their shoes.. Their eyes widen and you see Hyunjin choke on the drink he had just taken a sip of. You tug at the hem of your skirt slightly, suddenly feeling self conscious. 

You've worn this outfit before with friends and while it's definitely not the most conservative option in your closet, it's nowhere near as revealing as what you expect other girls will be wearing. It's just that you're not used to being around Minho's friends when you've put so much effort into your appearance and are showing off a bit of skin. They’ve seen you at your worst and are most familiar with the comfortable sweats and hoodies that you usually wear around your home.

Minho recovers the fastest. In a flash, he's made his way to you and has a death grip on your arm, trying to drag you back into your room. You resist, digging your heels in to try and make it harder for him, but it barely even slows him down.

“Oppa!”

“You are not leaving looking like this,” Minho huffs through gritted teeth.

“Minho-ya, come on. We're going to be late if you make her change,” Chan calls out. It draws the attention of the rest of the boys, who turn to look at the commotion. You hear Jisung wolf-whistle teasingly which only makes things worse. Minho's hand tightens even more around you, hard enough that you're sure it's going to bruise, and he whips around to glare at Jisung.

“Hyung, it's fine. Y/n-ah looks good,” Seungmin chimes in, before winking at you. You groan internally, knowing from the look in his eye that you're not going to like what he says next. “Is there a boy that you're trying to impress tonight?”

“No!” you deny immediately, still trying to pull your arm from your brother's grip to no avail. Your chest tightens at the idea of being forced to stay at home. Minho immediately latches onto the idea that Seungmin has thrown out, his expression darkening even further.

“Is it true?” he questions you.

“Oppa, I promise, I'm just matching with my friends. Which you would know if we actually go to the party!”

“If there is, you better tell me,” he warns.

“Yes, yes,” you groan. “If there was, which there isn't! You're just wasting time now.”

“At least put on a jacket, you’re going to be cold.”

“Fine.” You wrench your arm out of Minho's grasp and stalk to your room. You grab the first jacket you see, intent on ditching it the second that you get to the party, then head straight to the door, breezing past Minho on your way. “Happy now?”

“Thrilled,” he says in a flat voice that says he is anything but.

—

Your apartment is not too far away from the party, so it’s not long before everyone is unloading from their cars and approaching the party. You can hear the bass pounding even from outside the building and you’re sure that there will be a number of neighbours that file noise complaints by the end of the night.

When you make it in, your friends greet you enthusiastically, but are all a little bit weird, fixing their hair more than usual and giggling nervously. You’re not close with all of the girls that are in the group, some of them you can’t even recall if you’ve met before, but you can still tell that everyone is acting strangely. 

It's not until you turn around that you realise that Minho has practically stationed himself behind you and is glowering at anybody who looks your way too long. After years of being on the receiving end of his glares, you’ve grown immune, but everybody else is clearly at least a little intimidated.

“Oppa,” you hiss. He barely spares you a glance. “You're not seriously going to babysit me all night, are you?”

“I'm letting you do what you want so you should let me do whatever I want,” he replies primly. 

You know there's no convincing him on your own. From across the room, you manage to catch Chan's eye and nod your head in Minho's direction. Luckily, he knows exactly what you're trying to say and makes his way over quickly to stand beside Minho.

“Minho-ya, you don't have a drink yet?” he asks, before pointedly taking a sip of his own cup.

“I asked Yongbokkie and Seungmin to make me one,” he replies, unphased.

“And you trust them that much?”

At the same time, the two of them glance over to the kitchen. You follow their gaze to find Felix, Seungmin, as well as Jisung mixing together a concoction that looks not only toxic, but also disgusting. You want to gag when you see them add in soju, hot sauce, milk, and maraschino cherries in quick succession. That’s not even considering whatever they’ve already put into the cup before you looked over. There's no way they actually think the combination could taste good and Minho must agree because he stands up and starts stalking towards them, swearing to himself the whole time.

After Minho leaves, Chan wanders a bit closer to you and brushes a hand against your shoulder lightly. You have to fight the urge to lean into his touch.

“I told you, I got you tonight. Don't worry about your brother breathing down your neck,” he says lowly. Just like when he first promised to distract your brother, Chan winks at you, then follows after Minho.

You force yourself not to stare after him, cheeks flushing as the rest of the girls squeal. Some of your friends have met Minho in passing a couple times, but not any of his friends. Your brother's dance crew has become wildly popular this year, but luckily it's not widely known that you are close with them. You prefer to keep it that way, but it seems like revealing your relation to them is unavoidable tonight. It's just your luck that some of these girls are among the ‘fans’ that your brother has somehow amassed.

“Y/nnie,” a girl beside you pouts. “How come you've never mentioned you know Lee Minho and Bang Chan before? I can't believe you've never introduced him to us!”

“I-” you splutter, still flustered by how close Chan was to you.

“I saw you show up with all eight of them,” another girl interupts. Someone else gasps as if you've committed a serious crime. “You actually know them?”

“Well, yeah-”

“I heard that you called Minho oppa, are you two dating?” the first girl asks.

“What? No!” you quickly deny, disgusted by the very thought of that.

“Oh come on, you don't think that they're ridiculously attractive?” someone else chimes in. The whole group murmurs in agreement. They have more and more questions for you and start to talk over each other.

“Minho's my brother! As in, we share the same parents, that’s why I call him oppa.” you exclaim, before things can spiral further. “And ew, he is definitely not attractive!”

The group is stunned into silence for a moment before exploding in noise. There are girls offended on Minho’s behalf, some asking what him and his friends are like, and others who beg you to introduce them.

Your best friend chooses that moment to speak up, reminding you why she is one of your favourite people in the world.

“Let’s play a drinking game!” she exclaims loudly. She holds up a couple bottles of soju that you’re not sure where she’s been hiding and starts filling up everyone’s cup. Luckily the girls are easily distracted by alcohol, enough that the topic is changed without too much of a fuss. You breathe out a sigh of relief.

—

After a few drinks, you eventually excuse yourself to the bathroom. You’re definitely on your way to being tipsy, but not enough that you feel unsteady on your feet. The loud music makes it a bit difficult to focus and people have filled every corner of the house, but you’re somehow able to find an unoccupied bathroom.

You take an extra moment to splash yourself with water before you leave, you’re feeling a bit sticky from sweating and when one of your friends spilled a bit of their drink on you. When you finish, you swing open the door and immediately apologise when you narrowly miss hitting a guy who has been waiting in the hall. He waves it off, but doesn’t make a move to enter the bathroom, instead stepping a bit closer to you. 

“What’s a pretty little girl like you doing here all on her own?” he slurs, crowding further into your personal space. It’s dark, but you can still tell that his eyes are red and unfocused and hair is matted to his forehead. He's drunk. 

You swallow hard, trying not to panic. You have to treat this situation delicately and somehow make your disinterest clear without provoking or offending him.

“I’m not alone.” You can’t help but laugh nervously, taking a step back. Your stomach churns when your shoulder knocks into the wall behind you and you realise you have nowhere else to go. “My friends are actually probably wondering what’s taking me so long, I’ll just-”

“S’okay, I’m sure they wouldn’t notice if you were gone a little longer.” He leans in until he’s close enough that you can smell the sourness of his sweat and the alcohol on his breath. “I just wanna get t’know you a bit better.”

He smiles down at you in a way that he must think is attractive. It makes you want to vomit.

“No thanks, I’m just going to head-” Your voice is shrill with panic, you can barely recognize it.

You try to shuffle to the side, but the guy slaps his hand against the wall, trapping you even more. Your heartbeat pounds in your chest. He reaches out and traces one of your cheeks with a clumsy hand, ignoring the way that you cringe away.

“Aww c’mon darling, don’t be like that. I can promise you a good time.”

You know a bit of self defense, but this is far from a fair fight. This guy is significantly taller than you and probably double your weight. Even drunk, he can likely overpower you without even trying.

Before you can make a move, an arm slings around the drunk guy’s shoulder, jostling him to the side. Your heart sinks. There was a small chance that you’d have been able to escape, but not if you’re outnumbered.

“Hey mate,” the new person says. Your head shoots up at the familiar voice. Chan. “You seem pretty sloshed.”

Chan nudges the guy again, this time creating a little space that makes you feel less trapped. His body language is loose and relaxed, but the expression on his face is another story. His gaze is intense as he scans you, softening by a fraction when you nod that you’re fine.

“M’not,” the guy argues. He squints up at Chan. “Do I even know you? Get lost, I’m busy right now.”

“Why don’t you go outside and get some air? It’s gotten pretty stuffy in here.” It’s not a suggestion. Chan’s words are friendly, but the tone of his voice sends shivers down your spine.

The guy opens his mouth, likely to protest, but promptly shuts it when he sees the look on Chan’s face. The two of you watch as he stumbles away without a fight, bumping into a few other people in his haste to leave. Now that you’re alone, Chan backs up, giving you more space to breathe.

“Sorry about that,” Chan says, hand scratching at the back of his neck nervously. “Didn't want to be too aggressive. It just- you looked like you needed some help.”

“Some people just don’t know how to take no for an answer,” you say quietly. It’s just another thing to be grateful for when Chan doesn’t comment on the shakiness of your voice. Instead, his expression darkens further before he composes himself.

“Are you okay?” he asks tentatively. 

“Yeah, you came at just the right time.” You look away, a bit embarrassed that he had to step in and rescue you, but he puts a finger under your chin and uses it to turn your face back to him. It feels so different from when the drunk guy touched you that you don’t want him to stop. His eyes search yours for a moment and whatever he finds must satisfy him.

“You should probably rejoin your friends.” Chan starts to step away, but you reach out and snag his sleeve before he can go. 

“Chan-oppa.”

He pauses, turning back to look at you again.

“Yeah?” There’s a hopeful lilt to his voice, although you’re not sure what he’s hoping you say.

“Please don’t tell my brother about this,” you plead. Chan’s expression drops a little, clearly that’s not what he wanted to hear, but he’s still quick to reassure you.

“No, yeah, of course. I won’t say anything.”

“I don’t want him to worry about me.”

“Of course,” Chan repeats.

“And… thank you.” You rise up on your toes and kiss his cheek quickly, then slip away towards where your friends are before you can see what his reaction is. 

—

It takes a few days for you to recover from the party. You hadn’t drunk enough to be hungover, but just remembering your interaction with Chan makes you want to bury yourself in your bed and never leave. Luckily Minho hasn't questioned your change in behaviour much, but you can tell that he's getting sick of your wallowing, even if he doesn't know the reason behind it. 

“Yah, Y/n-ah!” Minho bangs on your door. “We’re heading out for gukbap in 5 minutes, are you coming?”

He doesn’t specify who the ‘we’ is, you know who to expect. Of course, Chan is included. It’s easy to make a decision.

“Go without me!” you yell back.

“Eh? Open up.”

“Just come in, it’s unlocked.”

You hear the door open and Minho approaches. He prods at your prone form with one of his feet.

“What’s up with you? You never say no to gukbap.”

“Nothing!” you groan.

“You’ve been acting strange since that stupid party, what are you hiding?” He pokes at you again, this time a bit harder.

“Oppa,” you complain, lifting yourself out of your blankets to swat at his foot. “I promise that I have nothing to hide, I just don’t feel like hanging out with your friends today.”

“They haven’t done anything, have they?” Minho asks, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Channie-hyung asked me if you were doing okay.”

“No! I-” you choke on your spit in your haste to answer, leading to a coughing fit that leaves you with tears gathering in your eyes. You clear your throat roughly then continue. “No, Chan-oppa and the rest of your friends have all been nice to me.”

“Oppa?” 

Whoops, you hadn’t meant for that to slip out.

“What?” you whine. “You’re the one who forces me to hang out with them all the time! You told me to stop being so formal around them. They kept telling me too, it got really annoying.”

“Hmm,” Minho huffs, not quite convinced.

“Really,” you insist. “I just don’t want to go out today, I promise.”

“Okay,” Minho says reluctantly before he gets uncharacteristically serious. “But you know, you're my little sister, you can always come to me if something or someone is bothering you right?”

“I- yeah of course, oppa.” You feel kind of touched, not used to Minho openly showing that he cares about you, even though you know he does. It's enough that your throat feels tight with emotion, but you force yourself to speak through it. “Thank you. I always know that I can count on you.”

“I'm the only one allowed to mess with you,” he says sweetly, ruffling your hair so that it sticks up the way he knows you hate. “If anyone else does, I'll make sure that they regret the day that they were born.”

You try to ignore the guilt that curls in your stomach as you watch Minho leave. You hate hiding things from him, but you're still confused by your own emotions and you're worried by how he'll react.  Minho has always been your biggest supporter in everything except for your love life, which he is strictly against no matter how much you try to reason with him. 

You can’t imagine how much worse it would be if he found out that the person you’re interested in is one of his friends. You’ve heard him warn the whole group that you were off limits. He’d use a joking tone, but everyone knew that he was actually serious about it.

In the end, it doesn’t even matter because you’re almost certain that nothing will ever come of your feelings, Chan is way out of your league so there’s no point in even imagining a relationship together.

—

Unsurprisingly, your attempts to avoid Chan fail pretty much instantly. You're not sure how the stars aligned exactly opposite to what you were hoping, but the studio that Minho's (and therefore Chan's) dance crew uses had a schedule conflict that ended up shifting their practice times.

To your dismay, it works out so that multiple times a week, you're leaving campus at the exact same time as your brother. That in itself is not much of an issue, it's the fact that Chan lives close enough to you that the three of you commute back together. To make matters worse, Minho always invites Chan over to have dinner and Chan always accepts.

You can't fault Minho though, you know that he invites him over partly because he wants to hang out with Chan and partly because he knows that Chan might end up working throughout the night in an empty apartment and completely forget to eat. It does also bring you comfort, knowing that Chan is being cared for, that he's eating well and taking time in his day to not worry about school or dance. It's also nice for you, you've grown so used to preparing and eating dinner on your own that it's started to feel more like a chore than something to look forward to.

It's just hard. You haven't had a private conversation with Chan since the party, but you know that he wants to talk to you. 

You were so sure that he would never reciprocate your feelings, but now, you're starting to doubt yourself.

While you're on the bus home, listening to your music, you sometimes glance over to find Chan staring at you, though he's quick to look away. When the three of you are cooking in the kitchen, he's more affectionate, resting a light hand on your waist or back when he passes behind you or nudging your shoulder playfully after he makes a joke. During dinner, he makes sure that you're also engaged in conversation, asking about your classes or the few clubs that you're involved in. He sometimes brings you and Minho little treats from the convenience store and they're always in your favourite flavours.

The thing is, Chan is friendly and generous to everyone that he meets. It's hard to tell if you're reading too much into your interactions with him or if he's actually paying you more interest than usual. You've never heard of Chan dating, actually you can't recall if any of the boys in Minho's dance crew have ever had partners, but it's not for a lack of interested parties.

At times, it feels so impossible that you're embarrassed to even admit to yourself how much you like Chan. You're not blind, you know that there's a fair share of girls who are just as delusional as you are, giggling when he looks over and insisting to their friends that he's interested in them because he helped open the door for them or waved as he walked past.

In fact, some of the very moments that you keep closest to your heart sound so similar to experiences that you've heard other girls gushing about that you hate yourself for having hope that Chan would be interested in you of all people.

It's easier to pretend that there's nothing going on between the two of you. You know that if you were to confess your feelings to Chan, something you would never do, that he would be nice about it. You can almost imagine it, how flustered he would be, making up some kind of excuse about not being interested in dating because he was too devoted to school and dance. He would promise not to tell your brother about it and assure you that it wouldn't change the way that he treats you.

You've run through this hypothetical situation so many times that not only have you experienced enough mortification for a lifetime, but you've convinced yourself even further to lock your feelings up inside of you. There's no point in confessing when you're so sure that nothing will ever come from it.

—

One day, Chan is over as usual and the three of you are cooking in your tiny kitchen, elbows bumping and arms reaching over as everyone tries to make do with the small space available. 

The food is almost ready when Minho's phone rings, the special song that he has saved for Jisung. He picks it up instantly, shoving the pair of chopsticks that he's using into your hands in his haste. You can't hear what Jisung says, but Minho rolls his eyes and leaves to his bedroom, lecturing Jisung about something the whole way there.

“Hey,” Chan says softly. You try to keep yourself busy, picking up dishes and putting them into the sink for washing, but he tugs at your wrist lightly so that you face him. “Is everything good with you?”

“Yeah,” you say, nodding quickly. 

“You just seem, I don't know, distracted or something these days.”

“No, it's-” You take a deep breath to collect yourself. “Thank you for asking, really. But I'm fine.”

“Okay,” Chan says, still looking concerned. “Listen, I know we haven't-”

You've never been so glad to hear Minho re-enter the room. 

“Eh? You guys haven't even finished with the food?” he complains in a whiny voice that he only really uses around Chan. “What have you guys been doing this whole time? Come on, Y/n-ah, go set the table. Hyung, I know you can't cook to save your life, but at least scoop out the rice into our bowls. I'm hungry!”

Chan drops the subject for the rest of the night, but you know that you’ve only delayed the conversation. 

—

The next day, you wake up to a dry and achy throat. This isn’t that unusual, you suffer from seasonal allergies that sometimes block your nose and force you to breathe through your mouth as you sleep. This time, it feels different. Your throat has been bothering you more than usual the past couple of weeks and while drinking a glass of water does help you wake up, it doesn’t dull the pain that persists. 

You shuffle out of bed to wash up, then head straight to the kitchen, brewing yourself a steaming mug of yuja tea. The taste is comforting, but doesn't help as much as you hoped it would. 

You get ready for school quickly, hoping to leave before Minho wakes up. You know that your classes start before him today, but he's always been an early riser, preferring to work out or spend time in the dance studio before it gets too busy.

“Y/n-ah,” Minho calls out, right as you're starting to put on your shoes. “You were going to leave without saying bye?”

“I didn’t know if you were awake,” you say, wincing when your voice still sounds rough.

“You didn’t even check.” Minho steps out of his room and unlocks the front door for you as you pull on your backpack.

“I was in a rush-” you start to say, but the rest of your sentence doesn’t manage to make its way out. Clearing your throat only irritates it further, triggering a cough that you can’t contain.

“Y/n,” Minho says, genuine concern shining in his eyes. “Are you feeling okay?”

He raises a hand to your forehead, but you slap it away weakly before he can check your temperature.

“I'm fine, I just have this stupid sore throat that won’t go away,” you reassure him. “I don’t think I’m sick though. The air has been so dry lately, I think I need a humidifier in my room while I sleep.”

“Aww.” Minho pinches your cheek and goes straight back to teasing you. “My delicate baby sister.”

“Ugh, forget I said anything.” You push your brother away. “Now let me go, I'm going to be late for class.”

Minho doesn't say anything in response, but the next night when you go to sleep, a new humidifier has been installed on your bedside table. 

—

In the next few weeks you find that the discomfort in your throat that has been plaguing you has evolved into something else. There’s a persistent feeling of something caught in your throat and you find yourself with a lingering dry cough that no amount of tea or medication can relieve.

One night, you wake up feeling like you can't breathe. In a panic, you untangle yourself from your sheets and get yourself into a sitting position. The change in position allows a deep cough to rattle through you, enough that you’re finally able to suck in a breath. 

Instead of phlegm or maybe a piece of food that could have been stuck in your throat, you feel something velvety in your mouth. You blindly reach for your bedside table to turn on your lamp and wonder if you’re still asleep when you find a single, dark red rose petal in the palm of your hand.

You squeeze your eyes shut and pinch yourself, hard, but when your eyes open, nothing has changed.

Suddenly, you’re wide awake and a cold sweat starts to form, making your pyjamas stick to your back.

You’ve heard of hanahaki disease, of course you have, but you’ve never known someone who has suffered from it. 

It makes sense, you’ve had a sore, scratchy throat and dry cough for weeks now with no other cold symptoms.

You can’t believe it though. 

Hanahaki disease was almost like an urban legend at this point, having been exaggerated and twisted so much in media that you’ve almost forgotten the reality of it. While most of the shows and books that cover this have a somewhat romantic take on it, declaring that it's caused by unrequited love, you know the real cause is your refusal to admit your feelings.

You knew that lying, to Chan, to your brother, to yourself, would have consequences. You had heard stories about how people who kept their feelings a secret were slowly choked by them, petals and leaves representing every time you had held yourself back. 

You just never thought it would happen to you.

Sure, you were interested in Chan. You found him kind, hard-working, funny, and attractive, but it's not like you were in love with him.

You crumple the petal in your hand and throw it into your garbage can. If this is your first time finding petals, you still have months until things progress to be more serious. A part of you hopes that this was some sort of one-off, that this would be the first and last time your body creates any flowers.

You turn off the light and pull the covers tightly over your body, praying that you'll wake up in the morning and find that this was all some crazy stress-related dream.

You don’t fall asleep for the rest of the night.

—

You had thought that you were pretty good at covering up your tracks, but it doesn’t take long before Minho starts piecing things together. It doesn't help over the past few days, your symptoms have steadily worsened. You’ve found yourself coughing up petals every day, enough that you're starting to grow concerned about how quickly things are progressing.

It starts when he calls you into your shared bathroom one evening. You don’t think much of it, until you find him staring at something on the ground.

“What’s this?” he asks. 

“It’s a rose petal,” you say easily, stooping down to pinch it between two fingers and dangle it in front of his face. “You’ve never seen one before?”

Minho rolls his eyes at that, swatting at you half-heartedly. You manage to dodge out of the way, but lose your grip on the petal. It flutters to the floor, but Minho swipes it out of the air.

“What’s it from? Is a boy giving you flowers?” he asks warningly, crushing the petal in his grip.

“Oppa, stop jumping to conclusions!” you groan. “It’s from a bath bomb that I tried out, I guess I missed this one when I was cleaning up.”

“Since when do you take baths?” 

“Since I got a bunch of bath bombs on sale. I thought it would be relaxing.” This time you’re the one rolling your eyes. “But if I knew that it would lead to you interrogating me, I wouldn’t have bothered buying them in the first place.”

“Fine, sorry, just- just clean up next time you’re going to make a mess in the bathroom,” Minho says, before throwing the petal at you and leaving you alone.

You watch as the petal falls onto the tiles, crumpled into a little ball from being in Minho’s fist. When you reach out to pick it up, your fingers are trembling. You’ve never been a good liar, but it seems that at least this time, your acting skills have been good enough to fool Minho.

You hear the front door close and you finally give in to the cough that you've been trying to suppress the whole conversation. 

Tears spring to your eyes, but you can't stop the coughs that wrack your body. This time, even after you spit out a couple of petals, it still feels like there’s something stuck in your throat. After what feels like forever, that something dislodges and you find yourself holding a tiny rosebud complete with a short stem.

You stare at it in horror, you haven’t had more than petals until now. There’s a deep sense of dread that fills you. You thought that you’d have more time, it hasn’t even been a month since you had started coughing up anything.

You throw the flower into the toilet, flushing quickly so that the red petals swirl out of sight. Even after you rinse your mouth, there’s a tinge of iron that lingers.

—

You don't often visit the boys when they're at dance practice, in fact you actively avoid going to the studio. It's one thing to know that their dance crew is quite popular and another to experience it yourself.

But today you don't have much of a choice, in your rush to leave for an early lab, you completely forgot to pack an assignment that was due the same morning and had begged Minho to bring it to campus for you. You were lucky that he hadn't left the apartment yet, but he only brought it on the condition that you brought him coffee and picked your assignment up from him directly. 

It's just before 10am when you head over, which means that there's a lot of students waiting for their dance class to start, but it still surprises you to find a fairly significant crowd outside of the studio that Minho had texted you to go to. You can hear music faintly from the closed door and, as you push your way closer, find that there's a large horizontal window that has caught everyone's attention.

You get more than a fair share of dirty looks as you squeeze through the crowd and one girl even stops you as you move to open the door. 

“Sorry, excuse me,” you say politely.

“You're not allowed in,” she says in a haughty voice. Her acrylic nails bite into your arm, surprisingly strong for how thin she is. “Their practice isn't over.”

“You're not allowed in, I don’t need an invitation,” you say under your breath, rolling your eyes. You must not have said it quietly enough because she gasps dramatically.

“Please, you think you're special?” She looks you up and down dismissively. “You wish any of the boys would talk to someone like you.”

“You must be referring to yourself, they would never want to have to associate with someone as desperate and pathetic as you,” you snap, shouldering your way past her. She squeals, but finally lets go of you, maybe hoping that you'll get in trouble for interrupting.

You open the door just enough to slide through and carefully close it behind you so that you don’t disturb them. It’s mesmerizing, watching them all dance. They’ve been together for so long that it looks so natural for them to move in sync, although you know it’s more to do with long hours of practice and Minho’s eagle eyes pointing out any mistakes. 

None of the boys notice you at first, caught up in the chorus of the song that they're practicing, but Jeongin catches sight of you after a moment.

“Noona!” he says excitedly, abandoning the dance to run over to you. “Is that coffee for me?”

“Innie if you drink that coffee you will not survive long enough for the caffeine to make it into your bloodstream,” your brother warns from across the room. 

Jeongin falters at that, but when you shake the cup enticingly in front of him, he throws caution to the wind and takes a sip.

“Yah! What did I say, Yang Jeongin?” Is the only warning Jeongin gets before he’s chased around the room by an angry Minho. The familiar chaos is almost enough to lift your mood and make you forget about the terrible interaction you had outside.

“You look annoyed, did something happen?” Chan asks, approaching you from where he had gone to turn off the music on his laptop. You curse how observant he is, you thought you had done a pretty good job of hiding how you felt.

“Nothing, just had a weird encounter with a defensive fan out there. It's like you guys are idols or something” you joke, nodding your head towards the window where people are watching curiously. You can still feel the sting from the girl’s nails digging into your wrist and when you lift it up to examine it more closely, see a little bit of blood beading at the deepest crescents.

“They’re not fans,” Chan says in disgust, before he does a double take. “I- you’re bleeding?”

“It’s nothing,” you say quickly, wiping at the wounds but only succeeding at smudging the blood so that it looks even worse. “It doesn’t even hurt.”

“Come here, we have a first aid kit somewhere. We don’t want it to get infected.” 

Chan takes your hand delicately, making sure to avoid the inflamed areas, and leads you over to the bench closest to where all their bags are piled up. You sneak a glance over to the girl that stopped you and can’t help but feel smug when you find her, pale and slack-jawed. Chan sits you down, only leaving your side to pull the blinds down on the window and dig around until he finds the first aid kit.

“Sorry, it might sting a bit,” Chan apologises as he pulls out the disinfectant wipes.

You peek at Chan and your breath catches in your throat at how concentrated he looks, brows slightly furrowed as he tries to gently dab at the scratches. Most of his hair is hidden under a baseball cap, but you can see a little duck tail forming at the base of his neck which draws attention to the trails of sweat that disappear under the collar of his shirt. You must make some kind of noise, because Chan looks up, eyes wide with concern.

“Sorry, does it hurt a lot?”

“No, you're good,” you say, cheeks flushing.

“I’m almost done,” he says, searching around for a bandage. He’s just finished applying it, tongue sticking out in concentration, when you hear someone else approach.

“What's going on here?” Minho asks.

“Nothing!” you say at the same time that Chan says, “I was just helping Y/n put on a bandage.”

“Did you hurt yourself?” Minho's eyes widen and he reaches out to take a look at your wrist, even though he won't be able to see anything under the bandage. You pull your sleeve down and stand up in a rush.

“It’s nothing, really oppa! I'm sorry, I have to go, my class is starting soon!” you call out, lying through your teeth as you run out of the room, clutching your assignment. “Thank you, Channie-oppa!”

You rush into the nearest bathroom, not even caring that there are people in the other stalls, and throw up an explosion of petals. By the time that you finally make it to class, just in time, your throat stings more than the wound on your wrist.

—

You start trying to avoid Minho and well, you never really stopped in your attempts to avoid Chan.

You leave early in the morning, only come back well after the sun has set, and do everything in your power to contain your cough when you're at home.

You know you're not solving the problem, only prolonging it, but every conversation, every lie, seems to accelerate the growth of the roses that have taken up residence in your lungs. You know that it's not helping, that keeping this secret is just strengthening the flowers that are slowly choking you. It's just that no matter how many conversations you've rehearsed in your head or text that you've drafted, something seems to stop you.

You're just so so scared that waking up with a mouthful of petals and thorns, bloody coughing fits that you can't prevent, and the raspy tone of your voice that has developed is preferrable. 

As much as you hate him sometimes, you've looked up to your brother for your whole life. You don't know what you would do without him that the thought of losing him terrifies you beyond belief.

You don't always get what you want, though. It's not long until Minho confronts you again.

It's not really a surprise, when you look in the mirror these days, you're shocked by your appearance. Your face is pale and drawn, you have deep bags from not being able to sleep at night, and you've lost weight since most solid food irritates your throat enough to trigger a coughing fit. Add that to the fact that you know your apartment's walls are paper thin which means it's impossible that your brother can't hear you coughing at all hours of the day.

“Y/n-ah. I know that you're not doing well right now. Don't even try to deny it,” Minho says. He closes his eyes for a moment before seemingly deciding something. “I- you don't have to tell me what it is. I would prefer it if you did, but just- what can I do to help?”

You take a deep breath, preparing yourself to reassure him that you're fine, but regret it when you start choking instead. You lurch upright and head directly to the bathroom, Minho trailing behind you worriedly. 

“I-” Trying to talk just makes it worse. You're used to it now, the way that the thorns seem to claw at your throat on their way up, how even the brush of soft petals against the raw flesh hurts, the metallic taste that you can't seem to get rid of no matter how many times you wash your mouth. Still, it doesn't make it easier.

Minho watches in silence as you heave over the toilet. He puts a hand on your back, rubbing slow circles to try and soothe some of your pain. Your eyes water, partially from coughing and partly because you're mortified that your brother is finally witnessing this.

You throw up finally, mostly petals and blood, which is a relief. The stems have been the most painful by far, each thorn digging into the already abused flesh of your throat.

When you finally finish rinsing your mouth, he's holding out a tissue which you accept gratefully. Minho doesn't comment until you've finally caught your breath.

“Y/n-ah-”

“Yeah,” you say miserably, tearing at the leftover tissue in your hand. Your voice both sounds and feels like you've been swallowing gravel. “Hanahaki, who would have guessed that I'd be a romantic at heart?”

You laugh weakly. Minho doesn't.

“I knew it. All those times you locked yourself in the bathroom with the water running… That stupid bath bomb story you told me… I hear you up at all hours, coughing your lungs out… You’ve been hiding it this whole time, haven’t you?” he accuses you.

“I can explain-”

“Go on then,” Minho says impatiently.

“I- It's-” You bury your face in your hands, unable to get the words out. “It's stupid.”

“Y/n-ah, it's obviously not stupid. Whatever it is, it's bothering you enough that it's hurting you physically.”

“I like someone,” you say in a small voice. “Okay? That's it.”

“Why won't you tell them?” Minho demands. “Why won't you tell me who it is?”

“No, I can't. There’s no point, it wouldn't work out,” you insist, shaking your head.

“What are you talking about? No point? Y/n, can't you see it's killing you.” You've never heard Minho sound so desperate. He's angry, he's frustrated, but most of all, he's scared, you realise.

“Oppa-” you say cautiously, but you're interrupted by yet another coughing fit. You can't hide it from your brother when the tissue that you've used to cover your mouth is tinged red by the time you're done. You can feel there's still something lodged in your throat, it takes everything in you to ignore the urge to continue coughing to try and get it out.

“I can't lose you, Y/n,” he whispers. Your eyes widen when you realise his are filled with tears. You don't think you've ever seen Minho cry. “I can't let you do this to yourself, please.”

“I need more time-”

“You don’t have time!” Minho interrupts frantically. “Have you even seen a doctor about this?”

You look away guiltily at the question.

“No, but-”

“Are you kidding me?” Minho says exasperatedly. “We’re booking you an appointment right now.”

“Is it going to make a difference? I know what’s wrong-” As if to prove your point, you can’t stop yourself from coughing again. “It's not that bad yet, oppa,” you lie, the croakiness of your voice giving you away.

“Y/n-”

“I promise! I promise that I am trying my best. I- if it doesn't get better, I'll see a doctor in two weeks.” 

“Not good enough, Y/n-ah. If you can't tell me, at least talk to whoever you like,” he pleads. 

“Fine,” you say. “I- I'll talk to him in the next few days. And if the flowers don't go away, then I will see a doctor.”

Minho lets out a heavy sigh of relief, pulling you into his arms for a tight hug. You try your best to sink into his embrace, but just can't ignore the guilt that seems to consume you.

—

Chan catches you outside your last lecture that night. You're not sure how exactly he found out your schedule, but you exit the lecture hall to find him leaning against the wall directly across from the doors.

It could just be that he knows someone else taking this course or that he has a class in the same room, but somehow you know that he's waiting for you. Not ready for this conversation, you try to keep your head down to pass by unnoticed, but you know that he's spotted you when he calls out your name.

“Hey.” Chan reaches out, tugging on your sleeve without actually touching you. You turn around, stomach sinking slightly. Yes, you had promised your brother that you'd confess to Chan, but you didn't think it would happen so soon. “You're heading home right?”

“Yeah,” you say warily. “What's up?”

“I'm going back too, can we walk together?”

“Sure,” you agree slowly, not able to think of a way to get out of this situation. 

The two of you walk in silence towards your bus stop. Chan's being uncharacteristically awkward and you're not sure what to expect.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” he says suddenly.

“Okay?”

Chan stays quiet for so long that you’re about to ask if he’s okay.

“I like you,” he blurts out, right as you open your mouth to speak.

“What?” Of everything he could have said, this is what you're expecting the least. There’s no way that you heard him correctly, you must need to get your ears checked.

“I like you,” Chan repeats. You blink up at him, stunned. “But if you don't feel the same way, it's- don't worry about it. I promise that I'll respect it. I'll back off and everything will stay the same. I just wanted to get it off my chest. And maybe, I don't know if I was just making things up, but I thought that you liked me too?”

“You can't,” is all that escapes your mouth.

“I… can't like you?” Chan asks, baffled.

“No, it's- you can't- we can't,” you stammer. “My brother-"

“What, you think I'm afraid of Minho-ya?” Chan asks cockily, raising an eyebrow in a way that you can't help but find attractive.

“I just- he always said-”

“Y/n-ah,” Chan says gently. “I like you and I don't care what your dumb brother thinks. He can complain all he wants, but as long as you're happy, I'm happy. And-”

“You actually like me?” you interrupt.

“Yes, is it really so hard to believe?”

“I just always thought, you only saw me as Minho-oppa's baby sister,” you say glumly, kicking at the ground.

“I did when you were younger for sure,” Chan laughs. “But since university, I feel like I've actually gotten to know the real you, to see how funny, talented, kind, and thoughtful you are. I like you for you, not because I'm friends with your brother.” 

“But there's so many other girls you could choose from that are much prettier or smarter than me,” you argue, still not wanting to get your hopes up.

“Y/n-ah, are you actually trying to convince me not to like you?” Chan pouts. “If you don't feel the same way, just say so, it's okay.”

“No! I-” you trail off, suddenly feeling incredibly shy.

“You what?” Chan prompts you gently.

“I like you too.” Your voice is barely a whisper, but you know that he's heard you from the smile that grows on his face.

“What was that?” Chan asks cheekily.

“I said I like you too!” you say louder this time, before hiding your face in your hands so that you don't have to look at Chan. 

Even though you're beyond embarrassed, you feel better than you have in a long time, giddy with the idea that Chan actually reciprocates your feelings.

But when you breathe in, instead of relief, there's still that familiar tightness in your chest. 

You have to talk to Minho, you realise. As much as you've been keeping it a secret from Chan, you know that a majority of your inner turmoil stems from hiding our feelings from the closest person in your life. You had hoped that talking to Chan would instantly cure your hanahaki, but clearly you were wrong.

—

For the first time in weeks, you purposely seek out Minho. Luckily, you don't have to look far, when you get home, Minho is stretched out on the couch watching anime.

“I told him,” you say. Minho immediately sits upright, turning his attention to you. “The guy I like. But it didn’t help, the flowers are still-”

“And he feels the same way?” Minho interrupts you.

“I- yes, he’s the one that confessed first.”

“Wow,” Minho whistles. “Who’s crazy enough to have feelings for you?”

You had already made up your mind that you had to tell your brother, but his reaction makes you even more confident in your decision. Maybe it's the way that Minho is treating this so lightly, but you’re no longer nervous to say it out loud.

“It's Chan-oppa,” you say, bracing yourself. 

“Chan?” Minho repeats, shell shocked.

“Channie-hyung? Like-” he takes out his phone and pulls up the photo he has of Chan in his contacts.

Chan has the craziest bedhead and his face is puffy from sleep in the photo. He's squinting up at the camera, a hand coming up to try and block his face. He looks adorable.

Minho watches your face carefully as you visibly melt a bit looking at the picture.

“You really do like him, huh,” he says in a quiet voice, no longer joking around. “This whole time?”

“Yeah.” You look down. “I'm sorry.”

“That's it? That's the person you've been so scared of telling me that you liked?"

“I- yes? You don't think it's weird?” you ask tentatively, looking back up at your brother. “The two of us being together? He's one of your best friends.”

“Oh no, it’s definitely weird.” Minho laughs. “I do not understand it at all. But Y/n, Channie-hyung is one of the few people in my life that I trust. Do I want him to be dating my baby sister? Of course not! I don't want you to be dating anyone. Do I think he’s out of his mind for being interested in you? Definitely.”

“Hey!” you interject. Minho carries on like he can’t hear you.

“Do I think he fully understands that if he hurts you in any way, directly or indirectly, on purpose or on accident, that I will hunt him down and make him regret the fact that he ever existed in the first place? Yes, I think he knows.”

“Oppa,” you say in horror. “You will not give your best friend the shovel talk.”

“I don’t have to.” Minho smiles brightly, a picture of innocence if you didn’t know him. “My reputation precedes me. Channie-hyung's one of my closest friends, he would never expect anything less from me.”

“Oppa-”

“Y/n-ah,” Minho softens his voice. “I also know that of all the people that I've ever met, Channie-hyung is one that is least likely to ever hurt you. I trust him, but I also want you to know that I trust your judgement.”

You look away, sniffing. You never could have imagined that Minho would accept your relationship so easily that it's making you feel emotional.

“Aigoo, Y/nnie,” Minho coos. He pulls you into a tight hug, ignoring the way that tears finally escape from you and stain his shirt. “You were really worried about this, weren't you?”

You nod into his shoulder, unable to provide a verbal response.

“I'm sorry that I made you feel like you couldn't tell me about this. It's definitely going to take a bit of time to get used to it, but I'm happy for you, really. I know I can seem overbearing sometimes, but I just worry.”

“I didn't want you to be upset at Channie-oppa or me,” you murmur. “I didn't want to do anything to hurt your friendship. I didn't want to hurt our relationship.”

“Y/n-ah,” Minho says gently, but firmly. “I want you to know that there is nothing that could hurt our relationship. You're my baby sister, I'm always going to love you.”

After months of keeping all your feelings bottled up, of denying your feelings for Chan, of dreading Minho’s reaction, you’ve felt a constant dread, guilt filling your insides. Now, you’re just filled with an overwhelming sense of relief. It’s as if an enormous weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

It feels like you can breathe again.

read it on ao3 | masterlist

[wannabespacesmuggler]

L.H. | Scotty Doesn't Know

Masterlist | Buy me a coffee

Summary: Scott Summers made two things clear for Logan when he first arrived at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters: stay away from his girlfriend and don’t even look at his little sister. The former was easy.  The latter, though? That one’s a little harder for Logan.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Summers!Reader

Warnings: canon typical violence

Word Count: 2.2K

Author’s Note: So, your boy has seen Deadpool and Wolverine too many times and is currently experiencing Hugh Jackman brain rot. Had to write something after listening to "Scotty Doesn't Know" by Lustra and then it just kinda just took on a life of it's own. Let me know if you guys want more Logan fics because I'm so obsessed with this man rn.

“Just doing maintenance, or are you going for a ride?”

Logan looks up from where he was working on his bike. He damn near almost bites through the cigar in his mouth when he spots you leaning against the garage door. He shouldn’t be surprised; despite his best efforts, Logan always seems to be accompanied by your presence -- both at the mansion and in the field. It’s not that he wants to ignore your existence. Scott Summers made two things clear for Logan when he first arrived at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters: stay away from his girlfriend and don’t even look at his little sister. Logan wanted to scoff at Scott’s warning: opposed to public belief, he’s not actually an animal. 

The former was easy -- Jean made it abundantly clear that she’s in love with Scott. The latter, though? That one’s a little harder for Logan -- especially when you’ve made it abundantly clear that you’re just as fascinated with him as he is with you. 

“Just working.”

You nod at his answer as he returns his attention to his bike, putting out his cigar in the process. His bluntness is unsurprising, but no matter how often Logan tries to blow you off, you still feel the harsh sting of disappointment. Logan Howlett is an enigma to you. A problem you just can’t seem to find the solution to. You’ve always gotten along with Logan and work well enough together that Charles often pairs the two of you up on missions. He protects you with his life in the field. He’s the first to offer you a helping hand when he notices you struggling. He consistently provides support after every mission that goes awry. It would be easy to consider him a friend; however, Logan has always kept you at a distance. He brushes you off whenever you ask if he wants to do something simple like share a drink or watch a movie. 

At first, you thought it was because he was afraid of you -- of your mutation. Just like your older brothers, you have the ability to manipulate energy. And just like your older brothers, you have difficulty controlling your powers without the help of external factors -- Alex had the suit, Scott has his glasses, and you have two siphons that you wear on either wrist. Without them, energy builds up in your body until it cannot be contained and then escapes through the only place it knows how -- your hands. The siphons help regulate the amount of energy coursing through your body, and most importantly, they give you the power to choose when and how to disperse it. 

During one of your missions, one of your siphons was destroyed. You and Logan were fighting for your lives against an anti-mutant militia after being separated from the rest of the X-men. The two of you were outnumbered and on your own since communication with the team had been cut off. Logan was willing to fight to the death against these soldiers, and you were prepared to back him up until the end. During the fight, Logan got pinned down by multiple assailants, and you watched helplessly as they attempted to decapitate your partner. You felt the familiar sensation of energy building throughout your body as you struggled against your own group of attackers. All hope seemed lost until one of the soldiers nailed you in the back of the head -- hard. The hit caused you to fall forward, and you braced yourself, using your hands to catch your falling body. As your hands connected with the ground, an energy field shot out of your hands. You prepared yourself for another blow, but it never comes. The chaos around you suddenly seemed to turn into an eerie silence. Finally, you look up and let out a shaky breath as you take in the carnage caused by your energy field. Everything around you was completely eviscerated -- everything except Logan.

Logan let out a low, pained groan, and you watched in horror as his body heals himself from the wounds you inflicted. You looked down at your hands in shock. It’s been ages since your powers were this volatile. Since you felt this out of control. At this moment, you noticed the state of your left siphon -- wholly shattered. No wonder you weren’t able to control your powers. 

The sound of your name eventually pulled your attention away from your hands. Looking up, you saw Logan cautiously approaching you. His concerned eyes scan your body for any injuries and once he seemed certain that you’re okay, he met your gaze.

“We need to get out of here.”

It wasn’t until the you were back on the jet with the rest of the team, that Logan approached you about what happened in the field. You were sitting away from the others at the back of the jet, studying your broken siphon. Suddenly, a pair of large hands cover yours, obscuring your siphon entirely. You look up and see Logan knelt in front of you. 

“You good?”

He didn’t move his hands from yours as he spoke and you relished in the contact. A dry laugh escaped your lips as you considered his question.

“I couldn’t control myself out there, Logan. Without my siphons, I’m just as dangerous as the enemy out there.”

Logan’s face softened at your words. He understands why you’re so panic-stricken right now -- knowing all too well how it feels to lose control.

“Hey. Look at me, sweetheart. I’m fine.”

You scoffed at his words. Of course he’s fine. He’s damn near indestructible, but you saw the aftermath of your outburst. Saw the devastation caused by your hands. Those same hands that Logan is now tightening his grip around -- grounding you back in reality.

“Seriously. You might think you were a liability out there, but you saved my life.”

You met his eyes again and are taken aback by the sincerity you found in them. 

“I could have killed you.” 

And there it is -- what’s actually eating you up inside. He’s aware of the fact that your powers could have killed any of your teammates -- including himself. But they didn’t. He’s here with you, unafraid, because even though you think your powers are something that should be feared, he just finds them remarkable.

“I know. Trust me, I know. But you didn’t.”

You nodded at his words, feeling a little more at ease. Your heart dropped as he removed his hands from yours, but instead of walking away, Logan took a seat next to you. He didn’t say another word, but he didn’t have to. His presence alone was enough to settle you down.

After that day, you thought maybe something changed between you and Logan. Although there was a newfound understanding and sureness with one another -- he still kept you at arm’s length. In all honesty, the whole situation confuses the shit out of you.

“Did I do something that upset you?”

Logan’s brow furrows at your question, and his eyes finally find yours again. He doesn’t drop the tool in his hand, but he’s shifted his body to face yours now.

“What?”

“Did I do something that upset you?”

Logan shakes his head as you repeat your question, looking at you incredulously. He doesn’t understand where this outburst is coming from.

“What are you talking about?”

Your brow furrows at the genuineness of his confusion. How could this man not know what you’re talking about?

“Do you like working with me?”

Logan blinks at your words. Now he’s completely lost. He sets down the tool in his hand and stands up, crossing both of his arms over his chest. 

“What’s this all about, sweetheart?”

You let out a frustrated sigh and run your hands through your hair. If only this man knew how infuriated he makes you. So, he won’t drink a beer with you at the end of the day, but he’ll throw around the name ‘sweetheart’ like it’s nothing? The man is simultaneously your favorite and least favorite person.

“I’m just trying to figure out what I did that pissed you off.”

Logan scoffs at the idea as if you’re the one being ridiculous here. And, to Logan, you are being ridiculous. The only thing that’s ever pissed him about you is completely out of your control -- if only you weren’t Scott’s little sister.

“I’m not pissed at you.”

You genuinely want to pull your own hair out right now.

“Are we friends?”

Friends. The word hurts Logan more than it should. Actually, it shouldn’t hurt at all. That’s what you both are, right? Just friends and partners in the field. Except you’ve never been just a friend or just a partner to Logan. Not really. But he can’t do anything about that. 

“Yeah, I guess.”

He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, but his posture is still defensive. 

“Then why won’t you just drink a beer with me?”

Oh. Oh.

Logan supposes that his behavior is odd. Friends are expected to spend time together and well, the only time he spends with you is during training sessions or missions. Your whole relationship is grounded in the two of you working together, but somehow, it’s turned into something more intimate. The tender moments between missions and the tension during intense training sessions -- although Logan had attempted to make clear boundaries with you, the lines blurred at some point, and now Logan is left with the consequences.

“It’s complicated.”

He’s not wrong. He knows himself. His feelings for you were already complicated enough. If he were to close the distance he made between the two of you? Well, he may not actually be an animal, but he’s not sure if he could control himself. 

“Oh, is it?”

You’re frustrated. And you’re no longer leaning against the garage door. No, you’re standing just a few feet away from him now -- hands on your hips defiantly. Logan rolls his shoulders back, trying to stop himself from lashing out against you. You try to ignore how his muscles flex against the thin white tank top he’s wearing due to the movement. 

“Yeah, it is. I promised Scott…”

“This is seriously about my brother?”

“Well, yeah.”

You let out a dry laugh. This whole situation is absurd, but you should have known. Without Alex around, Scott feels the need to be the overprotective older brother. He’s warned you about Logan countless times since he first arrived at the mansion, but you never really listened to him. It always seemed ridiculous to you -- especially since the dangerous man he constantly warned you about was the same man he trusted to protect you during every mission. Of course, Scott also cautioned Logan to stay away from you.

“He may be my brother, but he doesn’t get to make my decisions for me, Logan.”

You take a step towards Logan and he watches you with an intensity that would make you uncomfortable if it were any other man. But this isn’t any other man. 

“And he doesn’t get to choose who I spend my time with.”

And in this moment, Logan knows that he’s fucked. You’re fiesty, and headstrong, and determined -- all attributes that he admires in you. If you’ve decided that he’s the person you want to spend your time with, then who is he to argue? 

“So what do you say -- wanna go for a ride?”

A wild grin spread across his face at your question. Little do you know that he’s thought about this exact moment more than he’ll ever care to admit. Throwing all caution to the wind, he grabs his leather jacket and climbs on his bike. You watch him with bated breath as you wait for his response. Instead of giving you an answer, Logan kicks the starter, causing the motorcycle to roar to life. A part of you is afraid that you misconstrued your relationship and that this is all going to end with Logan riding off on his own. But then Logan looks back at you, eyebrow raised playfully.

“You coming, sweetheart?” 

Without a second thought, you climb on the back of his bike. Logan revs the engine once before glancing back at you again. 

“You might want to hang on.”

You don’t need to be told twice. Your hands slide under his leather jacket and wrap around his waist. Logan tries to fight off the shiver that begs to travel down his spine as he feels the warmth of your hands against his abdomen through the thin cotton fabric. He wonders if you know what you do to him -- how hard it is for him to pull away when he’s in your presence. It’s like you're a magnet made just for him.

“When your brother finds out…”

The laugh that escapes your lips is like music to his ears. And as you press your body closer to his, he decides that even if he’s going to hell for this, at least he gets to experience the heaven of this moment right here.

“What Scotty doesn’t know, won’t kill him.”

Logan shakes his head before peeling out of the garage. God, the Summers family is going to be the death of him.

[sunniques]

— 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 ?

➺ PAIRING: lee heeseung x female reader

➺ GENRE: stepbrother au, smut

➺ SUMMARY: the story of how your stepbrother’s girlfriend realizes her boyfriend has never really been hers.

➺ CW/TW: stepcest, infidelity, possessiveness, heeseung can lift reader, cucking kink, voyeurism, masturbation (f), oral sex (f), fingering, face sitting, unprotected sex, creampies

➺ WC: 4.6k

NOTE: don’t like, don’t read.

A lot of people find your relationship with your stepbrother cute. How could they not? He’s always so doting and protective like a real brother would be. In spite of being only slightly older, Heeseung takes on a very important role in your life. He constantly goes out of his way to take care of you, making sure you have anything you could possibly need.

Heeseung’s girlfriend never thought too much about the relationship between you two. It was natural that he took the naive college freshman under his wing and constantly had you by his side. Mina found it endearing, actually. The way he worried about you like a mother hen who wasn’t ready for her young chick to go into the world alone is adorable and a good sign. After dating so many inconsiderate losers, she thinks she’s finally chosen the right guy.

But somewhere along the way, Mina starts to grow tired of it. Time has gone by, and you’re no longer a naive freshman who can’t get around without her boyfriend’s help. Of course family is important, but it’s not like you’re entirely helpless. And yet, that’s exactly the way Heeseung acts. He’s always ready to drop everything when you need him. On several humiliating occasions, he’s even left her half naked on his bed just to go to you because you bought something you couldn’t figure out how to put together, or because you wanted to hang out with him.

It’s hard for Mina to admit that she’s a little jealous. Especially because it all seems so ridiculous. There’s no way her boyfriend actually wants you like that. But as time goes on, she thinks that maybe she’s not all that crazy. Especially with the affectionate way her boyfriend looks at you. Despite all this, Mina doesn’t say anything. At least, not until Heeseung starts to bring you along to what were meant to be dates.

“Babe, why do you keep bringing your stepsister? i thought we were going on a date?” It’s hard for her to not sound bitter and annoyed.

“Her roommate is going to visit her parents, and I don’t want Y/N to be alone.” His tone is kind and gentle like always, but it’s also firm and leaves no room for arguments.

What’s worse is that Mina can’t bring herself to hate or blame you. In a way, she understands why her boyfriend is always so concerned about you. You’re so nice and trusting that it would be way too easy for someone to take advantage of that. There’s also the fact that you’ve been more than willing to let them have some alone time, but Heeseung never lets you leave.

It’s all so strange and frustrating that Mina feels like she has to take matters into her own hands. So she does.

The key to Heeseung letting you go is getting you a boyfriend—or at least getting you to start dating. It’s easy enough to find a guy who’s interested in you. That’s never been a problem for you, and all it takes is her showing your picture to the cute guy in her communications class for her plan to fall into place. As luck would have it, you’re also into meeting the guy and going out with him.

Little did Mina know, setting you up with him would be a mistake that would cost her everything.

On the night you’re meant to meet up with her classmate, Mina excitedly goes to her boyfriend’s apartment. It’s been a long time since she got to be alone with Heeseung, and she was going to make the most of it.

She’s dressed in tiny tank top and a cute little skirt that Heeseung loves—it barely hides the lingerie she’s wearing underneath. Mina quietly lets herself into her boyfriend’s apartment using her spare key. Quietly, she tiptoes to his room only to find the door wide open. What she doesn’t expect is to find you sitting on his the edge of bed while Heeseung kneels in front of you.

Mina feels like a bucket of cold water has been dumped on her as his pretty hands rub your soft thighs. You look incredible, clad in a cute little dress with your makeup and hair done to perfection. It’s a mistake for Mina to keep watching, but she can’t find her voice at the moment.

“Seungie, what’s wrong?”

God, Mina hates that you call him that. Mostly because she can tell how much Heeseung likes it.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going out to meet some guy?” Heeseung sounds almost venomous, but it’s like you don’t hear it. “Who is he? How’d you meet him?”

You tilt your head, pretty lips pulled down in a confused frown. “Didn’t Mina tell you? She set me up with a guy from her class. He’s really cute!”

A chill goes down Mina’s spine. She can see Heeseung’s back tense when you tell him how your date came to be. The air feels almost murderous as he gently squeezes your thighs.

It kills Heeseung that he was almost too late in stopping you from meeting some strange guy in the pretty little dress you have on. He softly rubs your thighs, eyes simmering with anger and desire he doesn’t care to hide. Not anymore.

“Oh, angel.” Your stepbrother murmurs, hands slowly trailing up to your thighs. “You know you’re my favorite girl, right?”

An unsuspecting smile graces your lips. “Yeah. And you’re my favorite guy.”

Heeseung hums in satisfaction as his fingers ghost the edges of your dress. He watches your eyebrows furrow, but you don’t say anything. As always, you have blind trust in your stepbrother. That’s all the indication he needs to get up and push you down on his bed. Heeseung hovers over you, loving how you’re staring up at him with sparkling, wide eyes. He swoops down to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

Your heart is racing in your chest as Heeseung forces his tongue into your mouth. Despite the initial shock, you quickly melt into the kiss. He swallows your moans, pulling you closer as he deepens the messy kiss. You mewl into his mouth, carding your fingers through his hair with desire you had never realized you had for him.

Meanwhile, Mina can only watch as her boyfriend kisses you with a passion that he clearly never felt for her. It feels like her heart is ripping in half as Heeseung begins to undress you. Tears well up in her eyes when he groans at the sight of the lingerie adorning your body. Mina can see how hard he is from where she’s standing, and the desire in his eyes is very different from the way he looks at her.

“Can’t believe you got all pretty for some other boy.” Heeseung spits as he starts to undress. “Were planning on letting him fuck you?”

You shake your head and go to speak, but you can’t when Heeseung roughly pulls off your lingerie then his own underwear. His cock is thick and big, possibly the biggest you’ve ever seen. It’s twitching and leaking as he looks at you with his dark eyes.

“W-We shouldn’t be doing this.” You whine as Heeseung shoves your thighs to your stomach and licks a broad stripe up your wet pussy.

Your stepbrother groans at your sweet taste, thrusting his tongue into your dripping hole. He laps up the juices leaking out of your slit, circling his tongue on your clit for good measure. The noise you let out is downright pornographic and pure music to Heeseung’s ears.

“Seungie!” You keen as you spread your legs and tangle your hands in his messy hair. “I– Fuck!”

Heeseung pulls back with a wet slurp to spread your cunt open with his big hands. “God. You have the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen, angel. Just had to taste it.”

Each one of his words is like a dagger to Mina’s heart and confidence. Wet tears trickle down her face, but she doesn’t say anything as you pull on her boyfriend’s hair. Heeseung only moans and dives back into your slick cunt. He greedily laps up everything that drips out of you, sucking and kissing your clit.

“We shouldn’t be doing this, Hee.” You repeat through a needy mewl, making no attempt to stop him. In fact, you buck your pussy into his mouth as he sucks on your sensitive bud.

“Shh, angel.” Heeseung shushes as he flicks his tongue across your swollen bud. “Just relax and let me eat you out. Been wanting to do this for so long.”

Mina swallows thickly, the hurt slowly being replaced by something else. Her eyes grow bigger when she realizes which feeling is taking over. She shifts slightly, feeling a familiar wetness begin to pool in her panties. Mina feels sick that the sight of her boyfriend cheating on her can turn her on, and she thinks that she should leave right now and never return.

But she stays.

Mina licks her lips and continues to watch. Even she can’t help but think how hot you look, whimpering and writhing as Heeseung pushes your thighs apart so he can bury his face deeper in your pussy. He flicks his tongue, slowly descending until he’s lapping at your hole, slowly fucking the wet muscle in and out. Your eyes roll back as your stepbrother eats your pussy like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

The sounds coming from your pussy and the way Heeseung messily eats you out has Mina’s own cunt clenching with need. She can feel her underwear start to stick to her cunt as she watches her boyfriend lap up your arousal like a starved man. Mina bites her lip, feeling sick and twisted for being turned on by your pretty moans.

Heeseung suddenly pulls away, but not before he slaps your thigh playfully. He goes to lay on his back all while wearing a filthy smirk. “Sit on my face.”

You bite your lip as a hot flash of arousal pulses through your body. Both your and Mina’s cunts throb at the suggestion. Heeseung sees your hesitation, but doesn’t back down.

“C’mon, baby. Be a good little stepsister and ride my fucking face.” He growls out with dark eyes.

With your pussy dripping, you crawl over to him and kneel over his face. Mina watches with heated eyes as you slowly lower your cunt on her boyfriend’s face. The heat in her stomach grows when she hears Heeseung groan in satisfaction.

“That’s it. I want your pretty pussy suffocating me.”

With that, your stepbrother grabs your hips and pulls your cunt down onto his face with a groan. Mewling quietly, you rub your cunt all over his mouth. Every time he moans or grunts, it sends little vibrations through your pussy. The delicious feeling has you grinding down on his tongue as you chase that feeling. Heeseung eagerly fucks his wet muscle into your hot cunt, already addicted to your sweet taste.

Mina swallows thickly when he sees Heeseung thrusting into the air as he eats you out. His cock is leaking and throbbing with need. Fuck. How she’d like to go and lick all that up, to have him fuck her mouth as he fucks you with his tongue. Mina rubs her thighs to soothe the growing ache in her pussy as she watches you ride Heeseung’s face.

Your eyes roll back when your stepbrother slaps your ass. A loud squeal spills from your lips as Heeseung keeps fucking his tongue up into your cunt. He grabs your ass and kneads it roughly. With one last groan and flick of his tongue, he sits up and takes you with him. The effortless display of strength turns both women on, one containing her moan while the other cries out as she’s pressed back into the mattress.

“Such a sweet little cunt.” Heeseung moans as he buries his face back into your dripping cunt. “Shit, Y/N. You’re fucking soaked down here.”

“Heeseung!” You cry out as he pries your thighs further apart. Your stepbrother shakes his head to grind his tongue against your sensitive cunt.

“Fuck, you have the hottest little pussy.” Heeseung lifts his head with a groan, lips shiny with your arousal. “Missed eating some good pussy. It’s been so long.”

Mina feels pathetic that her cunt throbs at his degrading words. She bites her lip, hands trailing up her thigh and to her soaked underwear. It’s so filthy and humiliating, but the ache in her pussy is getting to be too much. She slowly rubs circles on her covered cunt as she keeps watching her boyfriend cheat on her.

“Fuck, Seungie.” You mewl desperately. “S-Shouldn’t like having your face buried in my cunt.”

Heeseung smirks into your wetness. He gently circles his tongue on your clit, kissing it tenderly before he gently starts to nip at it with his teeth. Mina shoves her panties aside when you moan out in pleasure. Now she’s furiously rubbing at her bare pussy, wanting to see you cum on her boyfriend’s face.

“But you do, baby. You like me fucking you with my tongue, and I fucking love eating this sweet little pussy.”

Your hips buck up at the words, grinding your cunt against his mouth as you moan for him. Juices drip out of you lewdly, leaking down to your ass and onto Heeseung’s sheets. Your head is swimming with pleasure, and you have to remember that this is all so very wrong.

“You like that?” Heeseung teases you, loving how you’ve turned into putty in his hands. “Answer me, Y/N. Do you like your stepbrother telling you how much he loves tasting your juicy cunt?”

Your back arches when Heeseung sucks your puffy bud into his mouth. “God—yes! Feels so fucking good, Hee! Love having your mouth on my pussy.”

Heeseung growls, the vibrations making your cunt throb as he sucks and licks your swollen clit. Eager to have you cum on his tongue, he slips two fingers into your fluttering hole. Mina follows in suit, unable to take her eyes off the erotic sight of you getting ate out and fingered. Fuck. This was better than any porn she had ever watched. Her hand is dripping with her own arousal, and she can’t even feel disgusted anymore that she’s so turned on by the entire situation.

“Mmmh, shit, Hee.” You whine as the tips of his fingers brush against the gummy spot inside you. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

“Do it, baby. Cream all over my tongue.” He purrs in delight. “Be a good girl and cum for me.”

Heeseung flattens his tongue on your clit while his fingers grind into the spongy spot in your cunt. Your back arches off the bed, orgasm whiting out your thoughts as you cum around his long fingers.

Mina has to cover her mouth as Heeseung moans along with you. By now she’s shoved her fingers into her sopping pussy, the squelching sound is drowned out from the sounds coming from your own pussy. The filthy sight is driving her wild, and she’s so delirious with arousal that she wishes Heeseung would just fuck you already.

“You’re amazing, angel.” Your stepbrother praises with his fingers still buried knuckle deep in your pussy as he softly strokes your velvety walls. “So soft and wet. It makes me want to shove my dick into your tight little hole.”

Heeseung slowly pulls his fingers out of you, and you can only watched with a lidded gaze as he moves his body between your thighs. His cock is twitching and leaking as he grabs the base. He smacks his cock down on your slippery pussy, dragging his drooling tip up and down your slit slowly. Mina has to press her hand into her mouth harder to stifle her filthy moans. The sight of her boyfriend pressing his drooling cockhead into your soaking pussy is so hot she might just cum all over her fingers.

“S-Seungie—fuck. We shouldn’t.” You whimper as he leans forward and braces his arms by your head.

You and Mina both know you don’t really mean your words. It’s clear that you want your stepbrother to split you open on his big cock. That becomes obvious when you don’t try to stop him as he shoves his cock into your pussy until he bottoms out completely, balls pressing against your ass. Shuddering with pleasure, you scratch your nails up his arms as you sink into the bed.

“Pretty pussy was meant to take my cock.” Heeseung growls, already drunk on the feeling of your cunt wrapped around his dick. “Fuck. I know it’s wrong, baby, but I just couldn’t help myself. Your hot little cunt was just begging for my dick. Doesn’t it feel all nice and full having your pussy stuffed with your stepbrother’s big cock?"

Mina starts fucking herself harder when you nod desperately. Your hands go to tangle in his hair as you grind your hips up to meet his thrusts. “Yes! Fuck! Love my stepbrother’s cock stretching me open! Feels so fucking good, Hee!”

Mina knows better than anyone how good you must feel. Although, she imagines you feel must better than she ever did because from the way Heeseung’s fucking you, she can tell he’s doing it with much more enthusiasm and passion. Even his moans are more guttural and full of more pleasure than she’d ever heard. They’re deep as he pulls out until just his tip is spearing you open. Then, he pushes forward, thrusting his cock deep into your fluttering walls.

“That’s it. Tell me how good it feels.” Heeseung leans down, lips brushing against yours. “Don’t be shy, angel. Let me know how much you like this cock fucking you.”

You gasp wantonly and pull him down further to press your lips together. He groans and licks into your mouth easily, tongue slipping past your lips as his cock thrusts deep into your hot, wet cunt. Your hips buck up to meet his, loving how his dick rams into your sweet spot over and over until your sight is painted with pretty little stars.

“Fucking love it, Hee.” You moan between sloppy kisses. “God—I love your cock!”

The coil in Mina’s stomach is close to snapping. By now, her juices are dripping down to her wrist. Luckily, the lewd squelching and sound of skin slapping together drown out any noise she’s making. Heeseung is fucking you so hard and good that she can smell the musky scent of sex from where she’s standing. The erotic aroma turns her on even more, pussy clamping down on her fingers in desperate need of release.

“Tight little pussy feels so good.” Heeseung moans out between the quick pecks he’s giving you. “God, I love you, Y/N. So fucking much.”

Your heart races as Mina’s breaks all over again. It hurts, but somehow that just turns her on even more. She keeps fingering herself as tears pool in her eyes.

With a low moan, your pussy clamps down on Heeseung’s dick tightly as you go to eagerly kiss him. A soft I love you, too goes unnoticed by Mina, but not by your stepbrother. He groans into your mouth, cock throbbing inside you.

“Mmmh.” Heeseung hums against your lips before he trails wet kisses down your neck. “I love my gorgeous girl. That’s why this feels so good. Even your tight little pussy knows how much I love you.”

His gorgeous girl? Mina thinks deliriously, orgasm dangerously close. It’s something he never referred to her as.

You cry out loudly when Heeseung bites your neck and sucks the skin into his mouth. His hips rock against yours, balls smacking against your ass as his pelvis grinds down on your swollen clit.

“Seungie!” You whine in ecstasy. “I’m getting close.”

Your stepbrother doesn’t let up. In fact, his thrusts seem to get faster and rougher. His cock pistons in and out of your cunt, creating sloppy wet sounds as you get even wetter. His eyes are dark as he pulls back to look at you, all pretty squirming and trembling on his cock.

“Cum for me, baby. Cover my cock with your sweet cream so I can fill you up.” Heeseung pants. “Cum on my cock, angel.”

His teeth sink into your neck again, and it pushes you over the edge. Your hot cunt throbs as you squeeze down on his cock. Somehow your pussy only gets tighter and tighter as you get fucked through your orgasm. You tighten your legs around his waist until he can barely pull out, rutting his cock in short shallow thrusts as your climax starts to taper off.

“So fucking tight.” Heeseung hisses by your ear. “Shit, baby. Get ready. I’m about to creampie your cute little pussy. Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

With a strangled grunt, he buries his cock to the hilt and shoots his load deep inside your fluttering walls while your pussy softly milks him for every drop of his hot cum. Mina reaches her own climax when she sees her boyfriend cumming inside you. She has to stifle her moans as she trembles and shakes outside the room that’s filled with the smell and sounds of hot sex.

“You’re taking it so well, angel.” Heeseung kisses your jaw tenderly as his fat tip spurts rope after rope of his thick cum into your clenching heat. “Milking my cock like I knew you would.”

He grinds his hips down, cock pulsing as he finishes stuffing you full of his hot, sticky load. Your stepbrother fucks his cum inside a bit more before reluctantly pulling out. Heeseung’s cock throbs as he watches his seed drip from your messy pussy.

He licks his lips, heated gaze never leaving your body. “Let’s do it again.”

You don’t try to protest as your manhandles into a different position. Mina is still coming down from her high when she realizes her boyfriend is still hard and about to fuck you again. She knows she shouldn’t feel excited or aroused by the fact, but she does. Especially when your face is shoved into one of Heeseung’s pillows just before his big cock rails back into your needy pussy.

Heeseung starts fucking you so hard his headboard slams into the wall repeatedly. The harsh sound pairs well with the plop plop plop sound coming from your cunt.

“God, Y/N. You’re so fucking good for me.” Heeseung groans when you clench down on him.

You moan loudly, bouncing yourself back on his cock. “Fu-Fuck, Seungie. This is wrong. We s-shouldn’t be doing this.”

“I know.” Your stepbrother smacks your ass, not sounding the least bit remorseful. “It’s so dirty baby, but I couldn’t help myself. Had to get my dick wet using your pretty little pussy.”

“Mmmh!” You whine out mindlessly, face turned to the side with your ass raised in the air for Heeseung to fuck deeper into your wet hole. “Feels so fucking good!”

“Yeah, it does.” Heeseung’s laugh sounds almost mean as he speeds up his thrusts to fuck his cock harder into your sopping cunt. “Your cute little pussy is the best I’ve ever had.”

His words shouldn’t please you as much as they do, but those lewd words turn you on so much that you can’t stop your cunt from tightening around him as he keeps spearing into you like an animal in heat. They also shouldn’t turn on Heeseung’s girlfriend but that’s exactly what they do. She isn’t angry, only extremely aroused as your ass bounces back on your stepbrother’s pelvis.

“Fuck!” Heeseung groans, fucking his cock right into your g-spot. “You’re so fucking hot, angel.”

You are. So hot that Mina finds herself wishing she could eat Heeseung’s cum out of your pretty cunt. She just knows you taste good, and mixed with her boyfriend she’s sure you must taste even better.

“Seungie, please!” You cry out, dizzy with arousal.

“Shit.” He growls, slipping a hand underneath your hips to rub fast circles on your clit. “Gonna make you cream on my cock again.”

“Heeseung!” You squeal as he picks up his pace, ramming into your squelching pussy as he rubs soft circles into your swollen clit.

Your stepbrother shoves his cock deep into your cunt and grinds, making you squirm and whine as his dick rubs against the spongy spot in your pussy. Your hands twist in the sheets. He flicks and pinches your puffy clit. God, do you look good, and so does Heeseung. Mina is groping one of her tits while the other hand goes to play with her pussy again. Briefly, she thinks she wouldn’t mind having a video of you two fucking so she can watch it over and over again.

“Hee, I’m gonna cum.” You moan against the pillow.

“Do it, baby.” He encourages you, free hand coming down to slap your ass hard. “Cum all over my cock. Want to feel your hot cunt squeeze me.”

It’s not long before your orgasm hits. You’re screaming into your pillow as your cream coats Heeseung’s big cock. Your pussy clamps rhythmically around his dick. Mina can’t see you, but with the way your toes are curling she can tell your eyes are rolling to the back of your head in pure ecstasy.

“Oh, baby. You feel so fucking good.” Heeseung praises you. His hands move to slap your ass again, making you squeal and tighten again. “Fucking work your little pussy on my cock. Fuck. Need to fill you up again.”

“Want you to stuff me full.” You whine back at him, pussy fluttering at the thought of Heeseung’s cum filling your cunt again.

“Yeah?” Your stepbrother laughs, sounding way too delighted. “Want me to creampie your hot little cunt again?”

“Please!” You whine as Heeseung’s fingers slide over your hip to start working soft circles into your clit again. You writhe back on him, feeling yourself get even wetter at the filthy thought of him shooting his hot load inside you.

“Cum inside me, Hee.” You pant, mewling when his fingers rub your clit even faster. “Want it so bad. Want to feel it.”

“Oh, fuck.” Heeseung groans, hips snapping hard against your ass when he feels how tight you’ve gotten. “You ready, baby? Fucking take it. Take your stepbrother’s cum in your needy little cunt.”

You moan loudly when you feel his hot cum filling your pussy, stuffing you so full it drips out around his cock. Heeseung ruts his spent cock into your sloppy pussy as he pinches your clit, watching as your back arches as a fourth orgasm sweeps through you. You lazily fuck your cunt back into him, loving the feeling of his cum dripping out of you and coating your thighs.

Heeseung pulls out of your warm cunt with a low groan. He’s quick to pull you against his chest and lays you down with him. His face is buried in your hair, eyes closed in bliss as you both try to catch your breaths. You feel his smile in your hair as he cuddles you and murmurs sweet praises against your temple.

Through your drooping eyes, you catch sight of Mina. Her eyes widen when you two make eye contact. You can’t hide your smirk when you see that she was masturbating to the sight of Heeseung fucking you raw. Instead of saying anything, you give her a seductive wink. Mina clenches around her fingers because the wink is full of understanding and promises.

It’s clear that Heeseung was never hers, but maybe you wouldn’t mind sharing.

[rebootgrimm]

So Trump Won, Now What?

I get it, we’re all worried. I am too. Above all else on this list, keep yourself safe. Don’t do anything stupid, especially without a plan.

Find Ways to Cope

With the election results, it’s understandable to be afraid. Do whatever you need to (within reasonable amounts. please do not overdose) to comfort yourself.

Take off of school / work if possible to rest. If you don’t have money saved up to be able to take a day off, that’s completely understandable. If you can’t take a day off school for whatever reason (like me. I’m writing this while being driven to school) then that’s okay as well.

Eat comfort foods. You can take a cheat day if you’re on a diet today, you deserve it.

Do things that help you calm down. Some things can include: drawing, crafts, listening to music (punk playlist I helped create here if that might help), knitting, etc. Whatever it is, do it. 

Cry. It’s understandable to want to cry after this. I felt like crying too.

Prepare For the Worst

I hate to say it, but it’s likely that shits going to hit the fan once Trump hits office. Here’s some ideas on what to do.

Preserve any media that MAGA might try and get rid of. For me that’s going to be writing things online down into a notebook and preserving punk songs (likely onto a cassette tape just so I have it tangibly), for Janet next door that might be pirating. Buying any books that might get destroyed is a good idea as well, so that way it still exists, despite censorship.

Stock up on physical items that may end up being destroyed / not being sold anymore. Books are a good idea to have since book censorship has existed as long as dictatorship has. Another idea is over the counter birth control since it likely won’t be allowed to be sold anymore. If anyone has any more ideas, put them in the reblogs / comments.

Stock up on money. I have a secret stash that has about $200 in physical dollars hidden in it, and that’s just counting dollars. 

Build Community

This goes hand-in-hand with prepare for the worst, but I felt like it deserved its own section.

Make a garden. It may be a bit late to do that right now due to it being winter in the U.S., but you can always prepare for one. Food prices will likely go up, so it’s good to have plans for free food.

I’m not sure what to title this bullet point, but with prices for everything likely going to go up, it’s great if there’s people who can provide things like clothes or anything else one might need.

Even without any of the other two things, having community in general is good. Even if that’s just a group of friends who you sit with at the lunch table and talk with, it’s still a community. If you aren’t able to make one in real life for whatever reason, then make one online.

If anyone has anything at all to add on then please put it in the reblogs (preferred) or comments. I’m not usually one to ask for reblogs, but I’d argue that this is really important and needs to be shared. Remember that your existence is resistance and that it’s always okay to punch a Nazi.

@our-trans-punk-experience @liberalsarecool

[thewulf]

Easy Skies || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - Feeling cuddly so you end up cuddling Jake for the first time in the early stages of your relationships. How this would lead to them napping together? Nothing but praises and love affirmations between them. Soft kisses. Readers first kiss with Jake.

A/N: Ahhh sorry I've been gone! Been enjoying summer :)

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.7k +

T/W : None just fluff

It’s been several weeks since you and Jake officially started seeing each other. You met at a community event honoring local heroes where Jake shared stories of his missions and the places his career had taken him. Your own interest in aerial photography sparked a quick and deep conversation between the two of you leading to an instant connection.

It was going really well. The two of you taking your time with everything. He shared stories of how we was reckless in the past and you were already very cautionary with types like his. So, you tested him a bit. Only kisses on the cheek, nothing more. And he did passed with flying colors. He never pressured you, never pushed for more. But now you were ready for something more. You're spending a lazy Sunday at Jake’s apartment for the first time. His place reflects his life as a pilot. It was decorated with navigational charts. With different models of aircraft he’s flown and photographs from around the world. The walls hold framed maps marked with the various places he's visited, each one holding a story he's eager to share with you.

As the afternoon fades into evening, you both settle into the comfortable couch in his living room. The soft music playing in the background mixes with the mellow golden light streaming through the windows creating a serene atmosphere. It's a rare and quiet moment for Jake who is usually caught up in the demanding schedule of a Navy pilot. You cherish the peaceful intimacy that has formed between you. Today’s simplicity is a precious contrast to the complexities of your usual routines.

As you both relax into the couch Jake recounts a comical error from his last training exercise. He'd accidentally swapped his day’s checklist with another pilot’s which led to some light-hearted confusion and teasing from his crew.

“You seriously went through half the pre-flight with the wrong list?” you laugh while shaking your head in amusement.

“Yep,” Jake admits with a grin. “It was only when I called out the wrong coordinates that someone caught on. We all had a good laugh about it later.” The conversation winds down as you both sink into the rhythm of each other’s presence, comfortable and at ease. There’s a genuine simplicity in the way you interact, no need for constant chatter. Jake’s job as a pilot often surrounds him with high stakes and rigor making these peaceful moments particularly valuable.

“It’s nice, isn’t it? Just being able to sit and talk without rushing anywhere,” Jake comments. His tone relaxed.

“It really is,” you agree as you smiled over at him. “Especially with good company.”

He returns your smile with a warm, appreciative one of his own. As the room fills with the soft hum of a new song the day closes around you both, cozy and familiar. Like a well-loved jacket that’s been washed a hundred times. It’s easy, it’s comfortable. And right now, it’s exactly what you both need.

As the afternoon shadows stretch across the room a yawn escapes you, shifting the comfortable silence. Jake catches it and chuckles, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Tired?” he teases before nudging you gently with his elbow.

“Maybe a little,” you admit while stretching your arms above your head. “It’s been a long week.”

Jake nods understandingly. His gaze softening. “How about we take a little nap then? Recharge a bit?”

You playfully raise an eyebrow. A smile tugging at your lips. “Only if you’re joining. I hear you’re the best pillow around here.”

Jake’s laughter fills the room, warm and infectious. “Is that so? Well, I can’t let you down then.” He shifts himself making room on the couch and pats the spot next to him "Come here," he says softly. His voice blending with the low melody. With a contented smile you slide closer until you're nestled against him. Your head resting comfortably on his broad chest. You can feel the steady beat of his heart through the soft fabric of his shirt. A reassuring rhythm that echoes quietly in your ear. Jake's arm wraps securely around you with his hand resting gently on your back. The warmth of his touch and the rise and fall of his chest with each breath he takes bring an overwhelming sense of peace and safety.

For a few moments you simply listen, taking in the sound of his heartbeat and the soft, steady breaths he draws. It's a new level of intimacy of sharing this quiet closeness without the need for words. Jake's hand moves in slow, soothing strokes across your back further relaxing you. With each passing second the world beyond the walls of Jake’s apartment seems to drift further away. You're drawn into this serene bubble where the only things that matter are the soft fabric of the couch, the gentle caress of Jake's hand, and the comforting rhythm of his heart.

Jake breaks the silence with a whisper that's barely audible over the music. "This is nice," he murmurs. His breath tickling your ear. You hum in agreement as you were too content and relaxed to form words. The trust and affection in this simple act of cuddling deepen, marking a beautiful, quiet milestone in your growing relationship.

As the soft jazz continues to play creating a soothing backdrop, the room grows quieter still. The comfort of Jake’s embrace coupled with the warm, gentle atmosphere lulls you deeper into relaxation. His breathing becomes slower, more rhythmic, signaling his own descent into sleep. You feel his grip tighten just a bit. A subconscious affirmation of his presence and protection. Gradually, the space between wakefulness and sleep blurs. Your thoughts drift away, anchored only by the steady heartbeat beneath your ear. In the safety of Jake’s arms sleep seems like the most natural progression. Without planning it you both drift off. The world narrowing down to the couch where you lie together.

The nap isn't long but it’s restorative. Exactly what you needed. As you both sleep there’s an unspoken exchange of trust and comfort. It’s one thing to share conversations and activities but another to share such vulnerability as sleep in each other’s presence. This mutual comfort speaks volumes about the trust and closeness developing between you.

Time slips by quietly and when you eventually stir it’s to the feeling of Jake’s fingers lightly brushing through your hair. His movements are soft and careful, designed not to wake you but to reassure himself you’re still there. You open your eyes slowly meeting his gaze which is filled with a quiet joy.

“Hey,” he whispers. As if speaking too loudly might break the spell of the peaceful moment you've shared.

“Hey,” you respond with your voice just as soft. The simple exchange feels like a gentle reconnection to the world affirming the comfort and affection that wrapped around you both as you slept. The nap together was simple yet intimate. It deepens the connection between you. Each quiet breath shared adding another layer to your growing relationship.

The afternoon light has softened into a cozy twilight by the time you both stir from your nap. You’re still wrapped in Jake’s arms and as your eyes meet there’s a playful spark between you that feels both exciting and comforting. “Welcome back,” Jake murmurs. His voice low and slightly husky from sleep. He leans forward pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. Then one on the tip of your nose, which makes you giggle.

“Is that how you wake up all your guests?” you tease. Your voice light and tinged with laughter.

“Only the special ones,” he replies with a grin with his eyes crinkling at the corners. He doesn’t stop there though. His kisses wander from your cheek to your jawline, each peck light and teasing, drawing more giggles from you. The laughter that fills the room is warm, echoing the affectionate mood.

Jake’s playful kisses continue by tracing a path down the side of your neck, sending a shiver of delight through you. You can’t help but catch him by the collar before pulling him back up to meet your eyes. “You’re going to make it impossible to leave this couch,” you laugh while still holding onto his shirt.

“That’s the plan,” he whispers back. His voice playful yet sincere. Then in a swift, fluid motion he captures your lips with his in a kiss that’s deeper and more intentional than the playful ones before. This kiss feels like a culmination of all the gentle pecks, each one adding a layer to the profound connection you’re building together.

As you break away there’s a shared smile. A mutual understanding of the affection and joy weaving through each interaction, each touch, each kiss. The playfulness adds a lightness to your relationship. He made moments like these not just romantic but genuinely fun, enriching the bond you share with laughter and love. After the laughter subsides and the atmosphere settles into a comfortable quiet, Jake looks at you with a contented smile. His eyes reflecting a gentle appreciation. "These moments with you. They're the highlight of my week," he says quietly. His voice carrying a note of sincerity.

Feeling a warm glow from his words you nod and smile softly. Your response understated but genuine. "It always feels different when I'm with you. It's easy, you know?" Your words are simple, echoing the straightforwardness of your time together.

Jake's response is a nod, his smile lingering. "Let's keep it that way," he replies. His agreement simple yet full of promise. The conversation feels natural, reflecting the comfort and understated affection that characterizes your relationship. As twilight transitions into the deep blue of night neither of you feels ready to break the comfortable cocoon you've formed on the couch. Jake glances at the clock, then back at you with a playful challenge in his eyes.

"How about we order some dinner?" he suggests. His tone casual but hopeful. "I'm not quite ready for this day to end. But I don’t think I can get up quite yet."

You laugh while agreeing instantly. "Sounds perfect. What are you in the mood for?"

"Pizza okay with you?" Jake asks already reaching for his phone to place the order.

"Always a good choice," you reply settling back against his chest while feeling utterly at ease.

The wait for the food is filled with more soft conversations. Each shared thought strengthening the bond between you. As the evening unfolds it becomes clear that days like these are just the beginning of what you both hope will be many more shared experiences.

When the food arrives, you set up a makeshift dining area on the coffee table, continuing the easy flow of the day into the evening. Each slice of pizza comes with stories you share. Each laugh making the room warmer. As the evening winds down, you find yourselves eagerly talking about other things you could do together, from movie nights to hiking trips. The night ends not just with satisfied appetites but with the excitement of planning future outings. It's clear that your relationship is blossoming. Full of promise for more beautiful days and nights shared in each other’s company.

Jake Seresin/Top Gun: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @mamachasesmayhem @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @illisea @jessicab1991 @guacam011y @dempy @mrsevans90 @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @missxmav @kajjaka

[helianthus-tarot]

FUTURE SPOUSE: First event that will bring you two together

This can also apply to serious/long-term partners. There's info about your first meeting since we are talking about the first event here. I posted the extended version on my Patreon which includes the first thing(s) that will connect you two a.k.a what you guys will bond over 🫢❤️

Disclaimer: Here | Instagram: Here

Instructions: Focus on the topic and ask yourself the question. Choose a number/picture that you feel the most drawn to or that you can’t stop looking at. Trust your intuition. May the message resonate. Let me know which pile you choose! Feedback is appreciated!

Like my readings? Tip here!

PILE 1

First event(s) that will bring you guys together: King of Swords, The Fool Rx, Knight of Wands. Queen of Pentacles, The High Priestess Rx (them). 10 of Swords, Knight of Pentacles (you). Growth.

It may be related to an exchange of ideas, or communicating ideas, especially solutions that lead to some type of breakthrough, progress, forward movement or growth. You will be taking the position of someone who is stressed out and exhausted, maybe you’ll have been dealing with a problem by the time you meet them. This problem could be about how to do something, how to progress, how to get a specific thing done. Some of you will have started something (e.g. a personal project), but then you encounter an obstacle (you won’t quite know how to progress). For others of you, the Universe itself will have started something for you (pushing you to start/end a stage of life, putting a certain event in your life) and you may find it very stressful to deal with. You will need support and I think your person will help you.

Your person will be taking the position of someone who has the necessary resources in this situation. The situation or the problem will be something they are familiar with or know how to deal with, it may be something within their domain. They could specialise in making things clearer, more practical, more in accordance with how things should be done or how things are usually done. You’ll have been having a lot of thoughts about this problem, it could also be an ‘analysis paralysis’ type of situation for some of you, you will be at your limit. They will help you using their resources, and this isn’t ‘words of encouragement’ kind of help, it feels more practical, organised and hands-on.

Your person could be a white-collar professional (private or government), a doctor, a consultant, a legal counsel, or a professor, academic advisor, an instructor; basically a person with authority and knowledge on what to do in that situation. For some of you, this meeting will be something that is planned by both of you. For example, you guys will plan to meet and discuss the problem; them being someone who can help plan solutions for you and you being someone who seeks a way out of your problem. You may not know each other’s names before the meeting, but you guys will expect the meeting itself. For others of you, the meeting will be unplanned, i.e. meeting each other at the right place, at the right time; you’ll be needing some help and they will be able to help.

The meeting itself may involve some travel. For some of you, it feels more like road travel, e.g. you having to go somewhere specific to meet them. But again, this is pretty normal. For others of you, this could be a situation that involves actual travelling or a trip; i.e. you want to travel somewhere but you are stuck at that place for whatever reason, and you have to talk with your person to solve the problem. This ‘discussion’ could happen in a building; like a company or a government branch, especially if this meeting is intentional. For many of you, it will be a one-to-one meeting. Your person will be taking the energies of all the court cards here, especially if they are the masculine, they may be accommodating (slightly warm, not totally cold) but very focused on their tasks. For others of you, this could involve multiple people, so for example, you could be discussing with other people (e.g. their coworkers) when your person walks into the room. It feels like you guys will be talking about strategies and plans. It may be quick, but there will be a clear direction being taken in this meeting.

The meeting may happen when the sky is cloudy, seemingly about to rain. For some of you, the meeting will happen again with the same purpose (to solve the problem, to help you), but every time it happens, it will be straight to the task and focused on the agenda. The meeting(s) may also feel empowering, maybe because you will need that solution/direction, or that support. For some of you, it may happen in the summer, for others of you it may happen in the winter.

EXTENDED VERSION IS ON PATREON! The first thing(s) that will connect you two! 🫢❤️ Will you guys bond over difficult experiences? Trust issues? Similar hobbies? Career success? And how will it happen? Find out here! 👀📝

PILE 2

First event(s) that will bring you guys together: King of Cups, 2 of Pentacles, 10 of Cups. Temperance, 7 of Swords (them). Strength, Queen of Cups, Page of Pentacles (you). Determination.

You guys will probably meet in a social gathering / event. I think it will be a personal event where people get together to connect with one another, to mingle, relax and have fun (instead of a business or career-related event). It feels more like a family gathering, or an event held by someone you know / are close to. There is a baby in one of the cards, so it could be a baby shower, a birthday or a wedding. I’m not sure how your person will end up attending the same event though, maybe it’s a ‘friend to a friend to a friend’ situation lol.

For some of you, this may also be something new for you. Attending this kind of event may not be your thing; you haven’t done it much or maybe you don’t socialise often, but you’ll choose to teach yourself to do it (and get used to it). It feels a little like ‘stepping out of your comfort zone’ kind of activity for you personally, with a focus on growth or self-improvement. For example, if it’s your coworker’s event, you could choose to attend because you want to nurture that relationship and learn to be more open.

What will bring you two together is you guys’ own effort to connect with each other. Both of you will be feeling quite open that day. They could have a romantic interest in you right away, but their energy here is more focused on investigating (you), being wise about this, and taking it easy. Perhaps they’ll do this to make sure they don’t get themself into a problematic situation, and to make sure they can trust that you are indeed who you show yourself to be. They could be watching you first; how you interact with people or how you act in that environment, before approaching. Your person will have the intention to get something more out of your interaction with each other, but at the same time they won’t approach this with a very desperate or hopeful energy either, they won’t force the connection to happen, they will be patient and mature about it. For some of you, they may try to hide their intention from other people, so other people may not know about you two keeping in touch with each other after the event.

You could bring something to the event; like a gift, or food, or money to be given. Some of you will also help your friend/etc make their event smoother, for example, helping them arrange the gifts or helping the other guests (you’ll just want to help). When your person approaches you (I think they will, especially if they are the masculine), you will be romantically interested in them but at the same time you will be pretty relaxed about it. You won’t be getting ahead of yourself or immediately getting emotionally invested in the connection. You will be feeling very secure in yourself, very in your heart space, emotionally mature and stable. Honestly, instead of desperate or clingy,this whole meeting / interaction feels measured and chill (your person’s energy feels slightly cautious tho). You guys will talk about the event, the people, why you guys are there or how you are related to the event organiser, things that will be happening at that time, etc. There will be multiple things that happen in the event, both of you may be sitting and watching those things happen, and just talking with each other. I forgot what it’s called, but usually there’s a brochure given to guests detailing when / at what time a certain activity will happen.

The sky will be very clear and bright that day. This could be an outdoor event / gathering. Near a body of water for some of you, like the beach, a lake, or simply a water fountain. There will be food, or a lot of growth / trees / flowers around you. If it happens on a private property, the owner could have a pet, maybe a cat. It could happen in the spring or summer. A little warm, but not to the point of making you two feel uncomfortable and sweaty.

EXTENDED VERSION IS ON PATREON! The first thing(s) that will connect you two! 🫢❤️ Will you guys bond over difficult experiences? Trust issues? Similar hobbies? Career success? And how will it happen? Find out here! 👀📝

PILE 3

First event(s) that will bring you guys together: 3 of Cups, 6 of Wands, The Hermit (Queen of Pentacles). Justice, 3 of Swords (them). 8 of Cups, Page of Cups (you). Determination.

Similar to the previous pile, the meeting will happen when you both are out and socialising. This one feels more like a hangout place though; e.g. eating at a restaurant with your friend group, going to the club, dancing and karaoke, or laughing and talking merrily with one another. For some of you, you could be alone (instead of with your friends), just going out and having fun on your own. You will be celebrating some kind of success that you and/or your group have gained.

For example, it could be a celebration that you have after a big examination, or after the end of a tedious and long interview process (some big companies make candidates take more than 5 interviews to get a job), etc. You will have been quite focused on it, whatever it is, and this has made you quite solitary (i.e. cooped up in one place doing the same thing), so you celebrate by going out. For a few of you, this could also be a gathering to celebrate the success of a work project; a group dinner with coworkers after the completion of a project, but the vibe may be quite casual or at least business casual.

Your person could be one of the people in the group. You guys may have known each other before this event, but this will be the first event where you two can properly connect or talk with each other. For others of you, they could be a stranger, i.e. a patron or customer there. Your person will have a very straightforward way of communicating, no frills, they may not use many filler words when they talk. They will also be very honest about their intention and/or what they are looking for at that time, on that day. They won’t have any romantic intentions, to be honest. For some of you, your person could also talk about their past disappointment in romance. For others of you, they will be honest about not wanting to pursue anything romantic with you (or anyone else), and they could say it’s because they have just gotten out of a relationship, or they aren’t in the right place for that, or it will be hard for you two to make it work. If you guys keep in touch with each other after the event, it may be for other purposes, like sex or other things.

Many of you will be attracted to them, romantically. You’ll be curious about exploring this connection. But after the event, you will feel like it’s a lost cause (impossible to happen), maybe because of what they tell you. However, some of you will still have sex with this person after, just without much hope that it goes anywhere. Your person could be the masculine in this connection, if not, just swap the roles. Apart from those of you who will have sex with your person, I don’t think anything much will come out of this meeting. So I asked how this whole connection would progress. You got The Emperor, 5 of Cups and 10 of Swords. I think for many of you, your person will eventually regret their decision. For another group of you, your person will have to deal with their issues first before anything can start between you two. I guess this event came up in this reading simply because it’s either your first meeting with each other, or first time having a revealing conversation with each other (e.g. a conversation about yourselves and what you two are looking for).

The cards are pretty bright so if it happens at night, it will be somewhere with a lot of lights, if it’s during the day it may happen late afternoon, 5PM - 7PM kind of vibe and could be somewhere outdoors; for example, if it’s at a restaurant, it will be on the patio or outdoor dining area. During the rainy season (especially those of you who don’t experience four seasons), or in the summer.

EXTENDED VERSION IS ON PATREON! The first thing(s) that will connect you two! 🫢❤️ Will you guys bond over difficult experiences? Trust issues? Similar hobbies? Career success? And how will it happen? Find out here! 👀📝

PILE 4

First event(s) that will bring you guys together: 8 of Cups, The Tower Rx (Knight of Pentacles), Ace of Cups. 6 of Swords Rx, 10 of Wands, 6 of Pentacles, 9 of Pentacles (you). Judgment Rx, 5 of Swords (them).

You guys got reversed cards that feel a bit odd to me, for some reason, so I think both of you will not realise this meeting for what it is, you may not think you are dealing with your future spouse here and them you. There are two main subgroups in this pile.

For the first group of you; you and your person will be caught up in your own things when this meeting happens, so this could be an accidental meeting. You may not be in a good place (mentally and emotionally) when you guys meet, but you will have the desire to get better. The physical aspect of the meeting isn’t very clear unfortunately, so I can’t say if this will be at a restaurant or a government building etc like I could in previous piles. For some of you, it will be a place you go to when you aren’t feeling well emotionally, when you want to have some time to yourself to accept your unpleasant reality (at that time), like going to a pub / club, drinking and thinking about your fate, or sitting on a wooden bench in the park lamenting your situation, or something bigger like taking a trip somewhere to help you run / move on from whatever pain you will be dealing with at that time. For example, finding out your partner (not your future spouse) is betraying you and you taking some time away to process the pain, before going back home to address that situation and initiate a break up. You could meet your future spouse on that trip.

This could also happen online for some of you; you will end up talking with your person or seeking comfort from them, they could be a stranger online, or someone you aren’t close to online. And if this is the case, the contact will happen several times. Regardless of where you’ll ‘meet’ each other (physically or online), since you will be dealing with a problem at that time, your person may feel like they have to hold themself back from saying what they truly think about your situation. For some of you in this group, your interaction with each other could make things worse, since the timing or the situation isn’t appropriate. For example, you may be in a relationship with another person at that time, or you will have a lot of things on your plate to deal with (or your person will, but I feel like it’s you who will be dealing with something in your life here). If they develop a crush on you, they may think it’s inappropriate for them to confess. So for this group, I think you guys will part ways at some point for a while.

For another group of you, just a few of you, the meeting itself is shrouded in that vibe. Maybe an accident will happen that involves you two (like, a car accident), but you guys will just want to move on from it and be emotionally mature, instead of blowing things out of proportion by having a row right then and there. You both will decide to think positively about each other, despite the negativity surrounding the meeting. You will focus on what you can do in that situation (e.g. you could offer to pay for the damage), they will focus on holding themself back from saying things they would regret or things that could offend you. You guys will keep in touch with each other from that point onwards, at first you will kinda have to do so, in order to solve the problem between you two.

Anyway regardless of what event it will be exactly, since it’ll be slightly different for everyone, the core of the message here is that you both will want to move on from something that will have happened and will not want to stay in a situation that can get worse (or not wanting to make the situation worse than it already is). This first contact / conversation could happen at night, or dusk, or when the sky is dark. I’m not seeing rain though. It could happen when it’s a bit cold. Late summer or autumn. I’m not getting anymore than this, let me know if the cards make you think of anything else, the energy is kinda confusing. I wonder if a lot of you (or your person) are water signs or have water influence.

EXTENDED VERSION IS ON PATREON! The first thing(s) that will connect you two! 🫢❤️ Will you guys bond over difficult experiences? Trust issues? Similar hobbies? Career success? And how will it happen? Find out here! 👀📝

[dumplingsjinson]

List of random dialogue prompts (pt. 2)

“If you felt want and longing the way I did — the way I still do — I promise you’d be driven fucking mad.”

“I wanted the thrill of the chase more than I wanted you.” 

“You really couldn’t have been any more obvious.” “That’s because I didn’t have anything to hide. I was being obvious, because I needed you to know, without a doubt, that I love you.” 

“This is literally the worst moment for me to be saying this but considering how we could die at any second, I need to get this off my chest before I become buried six feet under, without a chance to say any of this to you: I love you. I’ve loved you since we were kids. I’ve loved you every second of my life; from the moment when I knew what loving someone really meant.” 

“I kinda knew I lost all feelings for you when I realised I didn’t want to communicate with you about the problems that were happening between us. I became complaisant.” 

“Loving you is as easy as overthinking everything.” 

“It’s… easy with you. Nice. I don’t have to be someone else to impress you, because I know you love me for me.”

“There are parts of me I’d never thought I’d show to anyone else, but then… You came along, and for some reason, you made me want to be honest with you; bare my soul to you.”

“So what in the hell are we? I’m not doing this unless we’re on the same page.” 

“Please don’t tell me we’re nothing to you… That I mean nothing after everything’s that happened.”

“You’re my emotional support human, and I love you so, so much.”

“If you ever need me, I’ll be right here. Just as I’ve always been.” 

“I’d let you break my heart, if it means I’d get to have you for even a day.” 

“You make me feel like dancing in the pouring rain wouldn’t be such a bad thing.” 

“You’re astoundingly unhealthy for me, but do I care? No, because I wouldn’t have fallen if I cared, especially when I’m someone who’s usually so careful with whom I give my heart to.”

“…I didn’t drunk call you. It wasn’t a drunk call. I called you, perfectly sober.” 

“You’re someone I want to tell things to.”

“What’s more important to me is that I’m your last love.” 

“This… This hurts me more than it hurts you.”

“Falling in love wasn’t on the agenda.” “Do you mean falling in love with me out of all people wasn’t on the agenda?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’m kind of in love?”

“…I want all of you. On top, under, whatever — I don’t care, I just want you.”

“Maybe I can help you forget about them.”

“It’s easier to pretend I’m still in love with them, than leave them in that state.” “You know you basically lying to them about your feelings is gonna hurt them more in the long run, right?” 

“Why does it have to be them? Why can’t it be me?”

“I’ll give you two seconds to take that back.” 

“You gotta work for it, love.” 

“We can pretend that didn’t happen.” “I’m sorry, but I’m not as good of an actor as you are.”

“I don’t know how to… I’ve never done this before.” “Then follow my lead, okay?”

“I’m someone who falls in love easily, but I’m also someone who can’t get over someone as easily.”

“I want to make this work, because I don’t— I don’t want to— I can’t lose you.” 

“You make me want to be a better version of myself.”

“I don’t wanna mess this up with you.” “You won’t. I promise, you won’t, so just… Do whatever. I trust you.”  

“Why are you smiling at your phone?” “…I was looking at the mail app, and uh… Received some good news?”

“Because love isn’t linear. You know that, right?”

“I’m not doing this for you — I’m doing this for myself.” 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be that person for you.”

“I’m here to stay. At least until you want me gone, which I hope is never.” 

“Chasing you is like chasing the rainbow… It’s impossible. You’re always slipping away no matter how fast I run after you.”

“Don’t give me that it’s not you, it’s me bullcrap. It’s us both. We’re both at fault for this relationship breakdown.” 

“God, I just like you so, so much.” 

“I think I need to get over you for me to feel better again.” 

“You and your stupid smile… Stop that.” 

“I just need you in me somehow, please—”

“I really hope you realised they were flirting with you.” “…They were?”

“I’ve caught feelings for you, and I know you don’t like me back that way so I just… Wanted to tell you, before I decide to let you go.”

“I’ll be here to pick up the broken pieces if that’s what you want me to do, but I’ll leave if you’re not ready for that… For something more with me.” 

“I love you, but I… I don’t think I see a future with you.” 

“Give me a week. A week, and I’ll be back to normal. A week, and I’ll… I’ll be over you. Just a week and you’ll have the old me back. It’s that easy, I promise.”

“I kinda wanna give myself a concussion so I can forget about you and not think about you twenty-four-seven.” 

(pt. 1) | (pt. 3)

[bumblebeeappletree]

Every once in a while I’ll see some posts about everyone should become vegan in order to help the environment. And that… sounds kinda rude. I’m sure they don’t mean to come off that way but like, humans are omnivores. Yes there are people who won’t have any animal products be it meat or otherwise either due to personal beliefs or because their body physically cannot handle it, and that’s okay! You don’t have to change your diet to include those products if you don’t want to or you physically can’t.

But there’s indigenous communities that hunt and farm animals sustainably and have been doing so for generations. And these animals are a primary source of food for them. Look to the bison of North America. The settlers nearly caused an extinction as a part of a genocide. Because once the Bison were gone it caused an even sharper decline of the indigenous population. Now thankfully Bison did not go extinct and are actively being shared with other groups across America.

Now if we look outside of indigenous communities we have people who are doing sustainable farming as well as hunting. We have hunting seasons for a reason, mostly because we killed a lot of the predators. As any hunter and they will tell you how bad the deer population can get. (Also America has this whole thing about bird feathers and bird hunting, like it was bad until they laid down some laws. People went absolutely nuts on having feathers be a part of fashion like holy cow.)

We’re slowly getting better with having gardens and vertical farms within cities, and there’s some laws on being able to have a chicken or two at your house or what-have-you in the city for some eggs. (Or maybe some quails since they’re smaller than chickens it’s something that you’d might have to check in your area.) Maybe you would be able to raise some honey bees or rent them out because each honey tastes different from different plants. But ultimately when it comes to meat or cheese? Go to your local farmers. Go to farmers markets, meet with the people there, become friends, go actively check out their farm. See how the animal lives are and if the farmer is willing, talk to them about sustainable agriculture. See what they can change if they’re willing. Support indigenous communities and buy their food and products, especially if you’re close enough that the food won’t spoil on its way to you. (Like imagine living in Texas and you want whale meat from Alaska and you buy it from an indigenous community. I would imagine that would be pretty hard to get.)

Either way everything dies in the end. Do we shame scavengers for eating corpses they found before it could rot and spread disease? Do we shame the animals that hunt other animals to survive? Yes factory farming should no longer exist. So let’s give the animals the best life we can give them. If there’s babies born that the farmer doesn’t want, give them away to someone who wants them as a pet. Or someone who wants to raise them for something else. Not everyone can raise animals for their meat. I know I can’t I would get to emotionally attached. I’d only be able to raise them for their eggs and milk.

Yeah this was pretty much thrown together, and I just wanted to say my thoughts and throw them into the void. If you have some examples of sustainable farming/agriculture, please share them because while I got some stuff I posted from YouTube, I’m still interested to see what stuff I might’ve missed!

[smilelikeacheshirecat]

Duty is to her

Pairing: Bridget Hearts x Fem!reader

Genre: Fluff

Warning: kissing

Word Count: 2k

Summary: Reader and Bridget are attending a party and notice Bridget was getting tired so you decided to step in.

Being the princess and the next ruler of your kingdom, you are expected to go through all sorts of training, education, classes and more in preparation for your coronation and to inherit the throne from your parents. You have hours of classes, discussion of various topics from your basic education to politics, history of your kingdom and all the other neighboring kingdoms, etiquette classes, dance lessons, how to manage your kingdom and many more. 

You also undergo training not only with physical activities such as fencing, ballet, horseback riding, and many more. But your parents also added managing paper works and affairs happening in the kingdom for you to be familiarize with, along with hours and hours of discussion with other officials, and to also prepare for the future mountain of works that will probably pile in your desk as soon as your in charge.

Needless to say, you have been very busy with all your duties and since you're still young and wanting to have a social life, you also attend school so that adds up to the mass of work needed to be done. It’s hard to be the princess and heir to the throne. 

Being the princess, it is also one of your duties to attend various events such as balls, charities, parties, or any sort of royal gathering. There, it will test how good you are able to recognize and know the other royals, to mingle, chat, interact and meet more other people. 

But with everything happening in your daily life, there is one person that has been by your side each time. Princess Bridget of Hearts. She is the daughter of the rulers of Wonderland, their family is a close friend of your family. She is also attending Merlin’s Academy with you and the two of you have been inseparable ever since you bump into each other in the hallways of the academy.

“I can’t wait to visit” 

You heard from across the room, you turn to look for the owner of the familiar sweet voice, to see Bridget talking with the other guest. The pink-haired princess has the personality and the energy to draw in people to her direction. She’s the most kindest, sweetest, approachable and brightest person you’ve ever meet. Yet it still baffles you how she claims that you and Ella are her only friends in the academy. 

Right now, it was winter break and most of the students in Merlin’s Academy went home to spend the holiday with their families. You and Bridget were no exception and right now their parents had ask them to attend this party much to your dismay since you planned on relaxing during your winter break but when you heard that Bridget is also coming, reluctantly, you agreed but with a little enthusiasm inside especially knowing that the particular pink princess you quite adore and have been for a while now, will be coming. 

“Of course” You watch as Bridget giggle again after her reply to whatever they were saying.

You had been unfortunately separate with different people wanting to talk to you and not wanting to appear rude to them, you indulge in their conversation and try to at least look like you were interested but sometimes would still steal glances at a certain pink-haired princes just across the room. 

At least she’s having fun. You thought as you tried to avert your eyes from Bridget’a figure and refocus your attention on the conversation with your group. 

“Yes I’ve contacted with them and had their support on the matter” you replied. You may have master the art of communication and forming connection but that doesn’t mean you’d enjoyed it since you’d very much like to be with your princess rather than having this formal conversation.

At an early age, you’ve been attending party to party so you’re quite use to all the standing, talking and polite smile. Like the perfect princess but Bridget, on the other hand is still getting use to attending this sort of parties so you can’t really help but worry.

After a few minutes you glance back to where Bridget was again just to check on her. That’s when you notice Bridget was getting tired and is only fighting to stay and keep up with conversation. 

It is getting late and Bridget hadn’t had enough rest since yesterday with all the preparation for the party going on.

You took that as your cue to leave.

“Excuse me everyone but I may have to retreat for the night, enjoy the rest of the evening.” You said, curtsying before biding your farewell to them. 

The group said their goodbyes in understanding before continuing their conversation. You gracefully walk towards where Bridget’s group.

Bridget still has a smile on her face but you already notice how she was trying to stay awake. 

“Excuse me ladies but I might have to steal Bridget from you” you said smoothly as you swiftly take Bridget’s hand and pulled her away from her group. The girls giggle and let you both go as they continue on their own again. 

In just a few minutes, Bridget was already leaning on to you as you walk out of the ballroom. The moment the door close behind them, Bridget let out a sigh of relief. Her fatigue kicking in already as she cling on to you for support.

You chuckled and wrap your arms around her waist as you support her weight with your body. “Tired?” You ask the princess who’s eyes are already half close.

Bridget nodded, her eyes are now close as she soaks in the warmth of your body. The ballroom may be buzzing with guest but she still feels cold from the lack of your presence.

Truth be told, she was having fun meeting everyone but she still yearns to be with you since the only reason why she agreed to attend is because she was inform that you’d be there. And you were but she didn’t expect that she would only spend a few minutes with you before you were whist away by the other guests in the party.

The corridors were empty since most of the guest are at the ballroom and the staff are either attending to the party's needs or have already retreated to their quarters. 

Since Bridget was already tired to walking straight on her own, you had to half carry her as you guide her to her bedroom. 

Bridget notice the direction they were going and stopped.

"what's wrong?" You asked looking at the princess in your arms.

"can I stay in your room?" Bridget asked softly but you still heard her.

You smiled and agreed before changing course to the direction of your bedroom.

“We stayed longer than expected.” You said as you open the door to your room, finally. 

You lead Bridget's half asleep figure to your bed. Walking here was hard enough due to the heavy dresses you were wearing and the heels weren’t much help. You tried to gentle pry Bridget’s embrace from your body as you lay her down on your bed. You left out a breath of relief as you had successfully lay Bridget’s body on your bed. 

After you remove the torture device on your feet that people called shoes, you started removing Bridget’s gown and her own shoes and change them to a much more comfortable sleeping attire before proceeding to remove her complicated hairdo. Then after that you pulled out the make-up remover kit on your vanity table. Gently, you stared removing the layers of makeup on Bridget’s face carefully not to wake her up and disrupt her peaceful state. 

During the process, you couldn’t help but admire Bridget’s beauty as she closely examine her face, making sure no makeup was left.

For months you have been close with Bridget but never this close and intimate. You have always been there to care for her, to be here for her as she did to you in those months with each other. Unknowingly that your time together had brought feelings inside you. Feelings that you’re not quite sure what they are yet but slowly, you’re starting to realize them as time past by and you couldn’t help but fear for what it may cause and affect your relationship now.

The thought of losing Bridget, fuels the growing fear so in conclusion, you buried those feelings deep down to remain what you two have now. But sometimes you couldn’t help but wonder what would it be like. To be more than just friends. 

Just imagining it made you sigh, one last look, making sure no make up was left. You smile on your work before starting to change as well. 

With her last bit of consciousness, Bridget stir from her sleep, her hands started moving, searching for something. When she realize that she was alone, she lifted her head up to see you just putting on the last sleeping garment before you sat infront of your vanity mirror to remove your make-up. 

 Bridget couldn’t help the frown forming on her lips, you were still far from her. Slowly she got up from the comfort of your bed and wobble to your direction. 

You didn’t notice Bridget had got up from bed since you had your eyes close as you remove your eye shadow. A soft squeal left you when you felt someone’s arms wrap around your shoulders.

“Bridget?” You called out to her, she was still half asleep.

“Come to bed. Please” she mumbled to your ears. 

“But I’m not done removing my make up yet” you said but then what she did next was unexpected.

Bridget let you go from her embrace before placing herself on your lap,. with her legs on each side, your hand automatically rest on her waist to steady her figure. You were confuse to what was happening but you sat still as Bridget pull the wipes from the table and began to remove the rest of your make up she may be sleepy but each stroke was firm but gentle at the same time. Removing the remaining make up, she took one last look when there wasn’t any left she cupped your checks with your hands making you look into her eyes. 

Bridget was still half asleep so her body was still a little unstable as she slowly leans forward, your faces were only centimeters apart now.

“You’re really pretty’” she mumbled with a smile on her face.

You couldn’t help but smile at that. Everything seems to fade around them as you gaze into each other’s eyes. But yours keeps flickering from her eyes to her lips, plump and pink even without lipstick. So close yet still so far away. 

For a while, you didn’t know what you felt. At first, you thought these feelings were the same feelings you felt for Bridget, the love for a very close friend but this moment confirms your realization. You wanted her, you needed her. You wanted something more, more than just classmates, more than just friends. You wanted to be something more with her and only her.

It took everything in your power not lean in and kiss those lips, which was the only thing running in your head, her lips. But then . . .

“Are you gonna kiss me or not?” Bridget suddenly ask breaking the silence of the room.

Your eyes widen at what she said. You look back up to her eyes, wanting to make sure you heard it right. “May I?” 

Bridget smile as she leans in, closing the gap between your lips. Soft. Her lips were soft. Sweet, like the strawberry short cake she baked the other day for you. And slow. She wasn’t in a hurry, and neither were you. You were both savoring the kiss.

Your stomach flutter as the warm feeling flooded you. Her scent invaded your senses and all your focus were on her lips and the warm feeling it comes with it.

You pulled away for air, already missing them but Bridget lean her forehead on yours with a smile still on her lips. “Took you long enough” she said giggling as buries her face on your neck.

You may be the princess of your kingdom but your duty is always to her, to your princess.

[dixons-sunshine]

Was It The Boogeyman? | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Soon upon your group’s arrival to Alexandria, a masked killer begun running loose. Having no idea who they could be, Rick started an investigation, one that lead you to realize that you could not always trust everyone, especially not people who seemed to be unsuspecting at first.

Genre: Halloween, Slasher themes.

Warnings: Swearing, blood, death, near-death, others I can’t think of right now.

Word count: 5.9k

A/N: For @ghostboneswrites2’s Halloween challenge! To be honest, I feel like this is not the best, and I feel like the plot is all over the place, but I hope you like it nonetheless!

A bloodcurdling scream rang through the air. Rushing towards the source of the chilling sound, you, Daryl and Rick came face to face with a woman named Sarah, who had rushed out of the pantry. The woman looked as pale as a ghost, her hands shaking as she clutched onto the notebook in her hands.

“They got her! The killer got Olivia!”

You pushed past the woman, and walked into the garage that doubled as both the pantry and the armoury. There, laying in a big puddle of her own crimson blood, was Olivia, the former caretaker of the weaponry in the armoury. Her glasses were shattered on the ground a few feet away from her body, and a chunk of her brunette hair laid next to the spectacles, drenched in the woman’s blood.

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, taking a tentative step towards the body. However, before you could take another step, you were gently pulled back, the familiar cerulean eyes of your partner coming into view when you turned your head. “What’s wrong?” you inquired, your eyebrows furrowed together.

“We dun’ know how long she’s been dead,” he began, his eyes darting over to the lifeless corpse of the woman. “She can reanimate at any minute.”

That fact you knew. A lifeless corpse reanimating had been what had alerted you all to the murders that had been happening around the alleged ‘safe zone’ in the first place. Deanna’s husband, Reg, had been murdered in cold blood a few weeks prior, and his reanimated corpse had caused quite the uproar amongst the other inhabitants. Thankfully, there had been no casualties; that is, if you didn’t include the community’s leader’s broken heart.

Deanna Monroe had been absolutely crushed by the death of her husband. She had been the one to put him down after encountering his undead self, and your heart went out for the woman. She had been nothing but kind to your group since you all had set foot through the gates, and she didn’t deserve to suffer from such pain.

You were drawn from your thoughts by the sight of Daryl crouched over Olivia’s body, his knife disappearing into her skull, before being retracted once more. The metal of the deadly weapon sported a red colour as the crimson liquid dripped from the object down onto the floor below. However, the knife was soon cleaned off with Daryl’s trusty red rag, returning the weapon to its former state of cleanliness.

The sound of heavy footsteps walking into the garage got your attention. You turned around and saw Rick approach the part of the room that held the bloody, gruesome scene. Your leader’s blue eyes flickered between the corpse and the blood that surrounded it, before he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer finger.

“This is death number three,” he said, frustration lacing his tone of voice. “Three deaths in two weeks.”

The Grimes man’s words rung true. Olivia’s unfortunate demise chalked up the death toll since the murderer made their debut to ‘three’. Reg had been killed first. Then a few days later, Pete Anderson’s life had been taken as well, his body being found near the infirmary. And now Olivia had joined them in the afterlife, too.

The killer’s pattern made no sense to you whatsoever. What did Reg, Pete and Olivia have in common for them to be murdered? How were they connected? What had they done to deserve a fate so cruel? Well, you knew what Pete Anderson had done to deserve it, but Reg and Olivia? It did not make a lick of sense to you.

With a deep sigh, you trudged forward and crouched down next to Olivia’s lifeless body, taking Daryl’s place as he stood up. Scanning over her body, you could quickly determine the method that had been used to kill her; strangulation, and then an odd looking stab wound through her chest. She had not been stabbed with a regular knife. Of that much you were completely certain. However, you could not decipher the weapon that had been used to pierce through the woman’s chest.

You glanced up at the two men. “She was strangled. And stabbed. There’s not really any telling which one got the job done, but the killer made sure to be thorough. They didn’t want her to survive this.”

“Christ,” Daryl muttered, shaking his head. “This killer’s sure got quite the way’a makin’ a lastin’ impression.”

“I just wish they’d choose something else to do it,” you mused aloud, your lips tugging into a grimace when your fingers traced over the clear-as-day blueish purple bruises that clearly depicted a handprint around the woman’s neck. Then, you stood up, crossing your arms over your chest. “This shit’s just inhumane.”

With a weary sigh, Rick shook his head and turned around, making his way out of the garage. You and Daryl shared a look, before the both of you simultaneously followed behind your leader, needing to know his thoughts on the matter. He had been your leader since the early days at the quarry, and even though Deanna Monroe still claimed official leadership over the Alexandrian safe zone, Rick had essentially taken over, and you would not have it any other way.

“Rick?” the archer’s voice rung out once the two of you had caught up with the Grimes man, effectively stopping him in his tracks. “What now?”

Another sigh left Rick’s mouth. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyebrows furrowed together as he gathered his thoughts. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his blue eyes flitting between you and Daryl.

“No luck on the investigation?” you questioned him.

Shortly after the death of Reg, and then Pete, Rick had implemented an investigation, one which only he and Michonne were a part of, to avoid drawing any suspicions towards what they were doing. More people being let in on the investigation could potentially spill the secret as to who exactly was actively looking for the murderer, therefore the investigators would be the murderer’s next targets, and nobody wanted that. The murderer certainly knew that people were looking for them, but they did not know who.

Rick shook his head in acknowledgement to your words. “Nothin’. This killer’s smart. I haven’t found anythin’,” he admitted without hesitation. “Michonne and I have been turnin’ this place upside down lookin’ for clues, but it’s like this killer doesn’t even exist afterwards. It’s like they just vanish into thin air.”

Taking Rick’s admission into consideration, Daryl slowly nodded. “Ya think it could be someone from the outside? Someone who could be sneakin’ in to do this?”

“It’s a possibility,” Rick agreed, “but probably unlikely. We have people keepin’ watch all hours of the day. It doesn’t seem likely that someone would manage to sneak in.”

“So basically, we’re still nowhere near finding out who the murderer is,” you concluded, a heavy sigh leaving your body. “Three casualties and still nothing. Not even a meaningless clue that could lead us in the right direction.”

Daryl placed a hand on your shoulder, his thumb rubbing against your clothed skin soothingly. He knew how stressed you were, and for good reason. Who’s to say that the murderer’s next victim wasn’t someone you cared for? Who’s to say the murderer’s next victim was not you? The archer did not even want to consider that last possibility.

Rick sent you a look of sympathy, understanding your frustrations towards the entire ordeal. However, he did not know how to ease your worries when he was unable to quench his own worries. You had every right to worry about this murderer. He certainly did not blame you in the slightest.

Suddenly, realization dawned on Rick, and he cleared his throat. “Actually, we did find somethin’,” he began, effectively recapturing both yours and Daryl’s attention. “There was a witness in Pete’s murder. They said that they saw someone walk away, and that the person was wearin’ a mask.”

“Well, that’s just great,” you voiced with a heavy sigh, crossing your arms over your chest.

“So what, this killer s’like some sort’a Boogeyman or somethin’?” Daryl inquired with a scoff. The whole situation had been weighing heavily on the archer’s shoulders since the first body had dropped a few weeks prior. It was only a matter of time until the unknown killer attacked once more, maybe even taking the life of somebody he truly cared for. He needed to find this vicious murderer, and fast.

“I mean, technically speaking, the killer’s kinda more like Ghostface,” you corrected him, your arms crossed over your chest.

“Ghostface?” Daryl echoed in confusion, his eyebrows furrowing. “What’s that?”

Your eyes flitted over to your partner. “Those killers from the Scream franchise?” When recognition did not dawn on the archer, you furthered your explanation. “You know, the movies with that terrifying white ghost-like mask? The Ghostface mask? The mask that the two killers wear in all the movies?” A few beats of silence passed. Sensing that nobody in the small group knew what you were talking about, you shook your head. “It doesn’t matter. Boogeyman is as good of a code name as any.”

Rick cleared his throat, diverting the attention back to the more important matter at hand. “So, this Boogeyman, they clearly only strike once they’re absolutely sure nobody else is around. Until we can come up with a concrete way to catch them once and for all, I think it’s best if nobody is alone. Perhaps groupin’ people together in houses could help.”

“Ain’t too sure folks ‘round here are gon’ take too kindly to that idea,” Daryl voiced, his eyes flickering between you and Rick.

Rick shrugged and looked at his found brother. “If they wanna stay safe, they’re gonna have to go with it, whether they like it or not.”

“You want me to ask Deanna to call a meeting so we can spread the word?” you asked, your eyes locking with those of your leader.

Rick shook his head. “No. Deanna’s not in the best mindset at the moment. She can’t make important calls like this right now. I’ll call it. In the meantime, you and Daryl clean up the body. No need to have people causin’ an uproar.”

“What do we tell people when they come lookin’ for her?” Daryl questioned gruffly.

Rick hesitated for a moment. “We don’t have anythin’ to hide. Tell them the truth.”

With that, Rick turned around and left, leaving you and Daryl alone in front of the garage. You exchanged a look with your partner, your eyes conveying more about how you felt than words could in that moment. However, you pushed your emotions aside for the time being. You had a job to do.

With a sigh, you turned around and stalked into the pantry, your sense of smell instantly being overpowered by the overwhelming stench of death that lingered in the air. You had to stop and close your eyes momentarily, both in an attempt to gather your thoughts and to not accidentally vomit at the gruesome sight in front of you. I’ve seen worse, you attempted to remind yourself. However, that did not seem to help at all.

The feeling of someone’s hand on your shoulder snapped you from your trance. Opening your eyes, you looked over your shoulder and locked eyes with your partner. He sent you a small, albeit strained smile, and you had to commend him for his efforts to calm you down.

“Ya dun’ gotta do this,” Daryl began, his tone of voice surprisingly soft and gentle. “I can handle it. Ya can go home.”

Almost instantly, you shook your head, before turning your head back to peer at Olivia’s lifeless corpse. “No, it’s okay. I wanna help.” You sighed and placed one of your hands over his larger one that still remained firmly on your shoulder. “I just wish we didn’t have to do this at all.”

Daryl leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss to the crown of your head. “I know,” he murmured into your hair. “It sucks, that’s for damn sure, but it won’t last forever. We’ll find the bastard that did this and take care’a ‘em. I promise ya that.”

You could not help the small smile that tugged at the corners of your lips. “Wow. That was a surprisingly positive outlook for a ‘glass half empty’ kinda person. Being the optimist is usually my approach. Who are you and what did you do to the Daryl Dixon I know and love?”

Daryl scoffed and rolled his eyes, but made no effort to move away just yet. “Yeah, yeah. Can’t always be the pessimist, can I? M’one negative outlook on somethin’ away from turnin’ into a professional grump.” When your giggle reached his ears, he smiled to himself. “Ya feel better?”

You turned around and looked at him. “About all of this?” For added emphasis, you motioned towards the body on the ground. “No. But I don’t feel like I’m gonna break down anymore, so I guess there’s that.”

“Ya can go if ya really need to. I seriously dun’ mind doin’ this myself.”

“No. I’m fine, I promise,” you reassured him. You took a few steps towards the lifeless Olivia, your expression turning grim once more. “I have to do this.”

Cleverly sensing that there was no point in arguing, Daryl nodded. “Alright. Let’s do this, then.”

“I’m telling you, I’m not gonna share my house with him! No way in hell!”

“Linda, I understand your frustrations, but—”

“You don’t understand a thing, lady!” Linda—an older lady you estimated to be in her sixties—cut you off abruptly, her dark brown eyes glaring daggers at you. “He’s the community slob! A miscreant! I’m not gonna allow a man like that in my home. Over my dead body.”

You let out a wary sigh at her declaration. Opting to not take the argument any further, for the sake of your slowly increasing anger, you simply sent a nod in her direction and walked off. Your fists were clenched at your sides, your lips pursed as you attempted to keep your raising frustrations at bay. Linda was not the first person to be frustrated at the new living arrangements being implemented around the Alexandrian safe zone, and you highly doubted that she would be the last. You just hoped you would be able to keep your cool.

It had been a week since the unfortunate death of Olivia. A town meeting had been called in Gabriel’s church a few hours after the discovery of her body, and the fear amongst the people had spiked once Rick had made it known that the community was unsafe at that moment in time, and to not wander around without someone at their sides. However, like Daryl had predicted, people did not like the idea of grouping together in houses, and it had not been instituted until somebody had been attacked by the mysterious masked killer—the Boogeyman—when they were alone in their own home.

Thankfully, the person had survived the ordeal. They did suffer from a stab wound and a broken leg, but they were relatively okay, and they had managed to provide your group with more information, meaning you all were one step closer to solving the case.

You walked down the street and met up with Daryl, who had just finished helping Tobin settle in with Aaron and Eric. He only had to take one look at you to realize that you were not having a good day.

“Bad day?” he asked rhetorically. He knew damn well how bad of a day you were having. The look you sent his way had him chuckling and raising his hands in surrender. “Sorry. Dumb question.” When you simply sent him a strained smile, his eyebrows furrowed. He gently grabbed your hand and held it in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “What’s wrong, Sweetheart?”

“Everything.” Whether you were being dramatic or not, you did not know, nor did you care. “From having to convince people to group up with people they’re not particularly fond of, to having to make sure that people actually listen and don’t try to sneak off back into their own homes, and having to look over my shoulder every few seconds because I’m terrified of the Boogeyman taking me next? Yeah, I am not having a good time.”

Daryl gave your hand another squeeze, a sympathetic look on his features. “M’so sorry, Sweetheart. I wish ya didn’t have to do none of it.” He took a deep breath, before continuing. “And the Boogeyman ain’t gon’ get their hands on ya. M’not gon’ let ‘em. I promise.”

You knew Daryl could not promise you that. Despite all the precautions that were being taken, despite every safety measure that was being implemented to up the difficulty for the killer to strike again, you knew deep down that it would not be enough. Murderers always found a way to work around any obstacle in their paths. If they wanted something, they would stop at nothing to get it. And this killer in particular was extremely careful and smart, so you knew it was only a matter of time until they struck once more.

“I know, but—”

Your words got cut off by a deafening scream. Both you and Daryl whipped around and scanned the area to locate the source of the chilling sound. It did not take long to do so. Another scream sounded through the air, and you could instantly locate where it was coming from—Gabriel’s church.

You took off in a dead sprint, Daryl following closely behind you, his crossbow loaded and ready to be fired at a moment’s notice. Whilst running, you met up with Michonne, Rick and Glenn. Without exchanging so much as a single word, you all burst into the church, weapons raised and pointed in front of you.

That moment was the first moment you saw the Boogeyman face-to-face. The mask the killer was wearing appeared to be a mix between the Ghostface mask and the Jason mask from Friday the 13th. They had blood splattered all over their mask and clothes, and Spencer’s lifeless body laid behind the killer. The murderer was stalking towards Jessie Anderson who was on the ground in front of them, the woman in question backing up fearfully, tears streaming from her eyes.

“No, please!” Jessie pleaded, sobs tearing through her body. “Please!”

A gunshot echoed through the air, just narrowly missing the Boogeyman’s body. That made the killer turn around, their body tensing up as they regarded your group that stood in front of them. Cleverly sensing that they were severly outnumbered, with nothing to defend themselves other than an odd looking knife, they made a run for the back door.

“Go! I’ll take care of Jessie. I’ll get her home. You all take care of the Boogeyman.”

With parting nods, Daryl, Rick, Glenn and Michonne instantly sprung into action, following behind the murderer. However, the killer pushed a bunch of furniture and objects as they ran, effectively slowing them down, but that did not stop the people in your group from bounding out the back door, in search of the long sought-after Boogeyman.

With the immediate threat out of the way for the time being, you rushed forward towards Jessie. You helped her up from the ground and onto one of the seats in the church. Taking a seat next to the clearly traumatized woman, you placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Jessie?” you began softly. However, the woman did not acknowledge you. It was as if your voice had not even reached her ears. The poor woman had seriously gone through it. “Jessie, you’re okay. They’re gone. They’re not gonna hurt you anymore.”

The Anderson woman closed her eyes and shook her head. “Spencer…” she started, her voice trembling as she spoke. “He—he’s dead. The Boogeyman killed him and… and…”

The woman could not even finish her sentence. She broke down into sobs and threw her arms around you unexpectedly. You tensed up momentarily, not expecting her to seek comfort in you. You and Jessie were not exactly close. In fact, Jessie Anderson was probably one of the few Alexandrians you had not been able to develop a big liking for. It was nothing personal towards the woman. You just were not particularly fond of her.

Snapping yourself from your thoughts, you slowly wrapped your arms around Jessie, rubbing her back soothingly. Despite your indifference towards the woman, you could not turn her away in a time of need. What had happened to her was beyond terrible, and it clearly had taken its toll on her.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Jessie,” you whispered to her. “You didn’t deserve to experience that.”

Jessie sniffled and pulled away from your embrace. “I know,” she said. “I’m sorry, too. You don’t deserve this either.”

Her words confused you. Your eyebrows furrowed together, but before you could say anything, Jessie lunged forward. The two of you tumbled to the ground, and the Anderson woman placed one of her hands over your mouth to muffle out any noises you made. She hastily reached forward and pulled a cloth from under one of the aisle seats, and brought it up to cover your nose and mouth.

A strange, foul-smelling stench filled your senses. You fought back against her hold, but Jessie had the clear upper hand. Your resistance against her hold grew weaker as the seconds ticked by on the metaphorical clock, until you felt too weak to fight back at all. Your arms fell limp at your sides and your eyes began to fall closed.

The last thing you saw before the darkness took over was the face of the blonde woman, her expression cold and filled with no remorse. And then…

Nothing.

You awoke to the smell of something completely foul under your nose. You shot awake with a loud gasp, your eyes being blinded by the harsh light of what appeared to be that of a… spotlight? Once your eyes had adjusted, and your mind had managed to catch up with you somewhat, you attempted to push yourself up, only to find that you could not do so. The same thing occurred with your legs. You were left completely immobile, except for your head.

“Well, well. Look who’s awake. Welcome back to the land of the living… Well, and the dead.”

The sound of a woman’s voice reached your ears. You snapped your head back up, and locked eyes with those of your captor; Jessie Anderson. If looks could kill, the woman would be long dead, for the glare you sent her way would be enough to incinerate her in seconds. However, looks did not possess the power to end one’s mortality, so you were completely powerless to do anything at that particular moment.

Jessie laughed at the glare on your face, the sound positively wicked. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, Y/N. You should be glad it was me that got to you. If it was her, she would have killed you instantly. She doesn’t really like you all that much.”

Jessie motioned to something on her left, and you followed her gaze. At first, you could not make out a thing, but once the person stepped into the light, you could not help the gasp that escaped your chest. There, standing right in front of you with the very weapon that had been used to kill all those people, was none other than the supposed leader of the community, Deanna Monroe.

“Deanna,” you muttered in surprise, your eyes widened as the older woman stepped forward, a sickeningly sweet smile on her face.

Deanna shrugged and stepped up next to Jessie. “Hello, Y/N.” When you did not dare say anything to her greeting, she chuckled. “This is the part where you say, ‘hi, Deanna’.”

“You…” You trailed off, your eyes flickering between Deanna and Jessie. “You both… You’re—”

“The Boogeyman?” Jessie cut you off, sharing a smile with Deanna, one that had shivers sprinting over your spine. “Yeah, we are. Well, technically speaking, we’re the Boogeymen. Or Boogeywomen. Whatever floats your boat, really.”

“You two killed all those people,” you voiced in a tone that spoke of disbelief.

Jessie chuckled wickedly. “Ding, ding, ding! You really are smart, huh?” she asked rhetorically, her tone mocking.

“But Pete, and Reg—Spencer…Why?”

The Anderson woman scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Pete? Believe me, that’s not really any love lost. But hey, it was fun to play the helpless woman for a while, I’ll tell you that. As for Reg, that was my mistake. I thought he was Eugene. Believe me, Deanna still hasn’t forgiven me for that.”

“And I won’t,” Deanna said firmly. “But we have a common goal. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, as they say.”

“And your son?” you inquired. Although you were interested to get some insight as to why these two seemingly harmless, friendly women would resort to cold-hearted killing, you were more so attempting to distract them by getting them monologuing, and it appeared to be working. If they were distracted, you would be able to free your hands from the duct tape securing it with the sharp edge of the bracelet, a gift from Carol, specifically gifted should you ever end up in a situation where you needed an inconspicuous sharp object. You truly treasured that woman, now more than ever.

A flash of remorse, of heartbreak, appeared in Deanna’s eyes, before she expertly schooled it with a blank, indifferent expression. “I didn’t want to do it. A mother never wants to do harm to her child in any way. But he saw Jessie place one of our weapons in Gabriel’s church to frame him for the killings, and he was already calling for Rick. I could not have him blow my partner’s cover, so I did what needed to be done.”

“But he was your son! How—how could you? How could you be so heartless?”

“Heartless?!” Deanna bellowed, her tone a stark difference from the usual kindness you had falsely grown to associate her with. “Do you wanna know what’s heartless? Having to hear that your youngest son’s life got cut short because of the people you brought in, people you thought could help change things for the better! Or having to live with the fact that even your own husband was beginning to trust your judgement! That he blamed you for everything that was going wrong! I was heartless by letting you people in! I was heartless because I wasn’t thinking about the people who had been under my care for years!”

Come on, you thought to yourself as you continued cutting away at the duct tape. Only a few more inches. “Oh, so we’re to blame? For everything? Even for your deranged, psychopath of a partner? Why did you have to offer up so much but all she did was kill her asshole husband?”

Jessie, suddenly being brought back into the spotlight, practically snarled at you. “You bitch—”

Snap! Your hands got freed from the harsh tightness of the duct tape. Without a moment of hesitation, you lunged towards Jessie, the sudden momentum miraculously snapping the duct tape securing your legs together. With your limbs freed and your mind on only one thing—to escape and find Daryl—you began to execute your plan. Take out Jessie, the one that was the main killer in all of this, and then Deanna, the brains behind the entire operation. Or at least, that’s what you suspected, anyway.

Due to having the element of surprise on your side this time, Jessie was relatively easy to take care of. You did not want to do it, only resorting to killing when absolutely necessary, not to mention the fact that Jessie had two boys as well, but you had to do it. You pushed the knife you had managed to swipe from her holster deep into her chest, watching the woman choke as she fell limp. She did not die, not instantly, but her wound rendered her unable to do anything. She was out of your way.

Pushing yourself off of the Anderson woman, you spun around to take care of Deanna. However, she was nowhere to be found. The only thing you could see was a door that was opened to the left. She must have fled, which proved your theory to be correct. She may have been the brains behind everything, but she could not do the killing herself. She needed somebody to do the dirty part for her, which meant that she would be easier to take care of.

Making sure to grasp the knife firmly, you rushed up the stairs and out of the building you were in, which you soon realized was the vacant building which doubled as a cell when needed. Clever, you thought as you looked around, hoping to spot the Monroe woman. You soon did, seeing her running down the street, back towards Gabriel’s church.

You took off in a dead sprint, your youth compared to Deanna’s granting you an advantage. You managed to catch up to her, tackling her to the ground right before she could reach the building. However, she let out a deafening scream, alerting everyone in the church to what was going on outside.

In an instant, everyone that had been partaking in, what you assumed to be, the meeting inside rushed out to see what the commotion was about. You winced as everyone’s eyes fell on you, and you knew that you were not in a particularly good spot at that moment. From their perspective, they could see their well loved and respected leader on the ground, screaming bloody murder, with one of the new and slightly feared members of the community on top of her, blood splattered all over her body whilst she had a knife against Deanna’s back.

Yeah, things were definitely not looking good for you.

“Help me!” Deanna yelled desperately, tears streaming from her eyes. “She’s gonna kill me! She’s the Boogeyman!”

You got off of the woman, raising your hands in surrender, although you still clutched the knife in your hand. You had seen your fair share of horror movies before. You would not be the person that dropped the knife to plead their innocence, only to get stabbed in the back by the actual bad guy. You definitely were not stupid enough for that.

Your breath got knocked out of your chest when your found family pushed towards the front of the crowd, their weapons raised and trained in front of them—at you. They did not truly believe Deanna’s claims, did they? Did they seriously have such little faith in your loyalty, in your beliefs to only kill when it was an absolute necessity? Did they truly not trust you?

“I’m not the killer,” you spoke carefully and slowly, your eyes locking with the familiar cerulean-coloured ones of your partner. He had his crossbow aimed at you, and it made your heart sink. “I’m not. Deanna is. And Jessie. They kidnapped me and revealed the whole thing.”

“That’s a lie!” Deanna cried out desperately. “She’s a liar! A murderer! She attacked Jessie and then chased after me when I walked in on her doing it! She’s a psychopath!”

“I’m not,” you insisted, attempting to keep your voice calm and even. It would not do you any good to fall to your knees and plead with them to believe you. “Jessie attacked me in the church after you all ran after the Boogeyman, after Deanna, and she dragged me down to that empty basement where you were kept, Rick.”

“She’s lying!” It was Deanna’s turn to insist. “She killed them all! Pete and Reg, and then she killed Olivia that day in the garage! She’s a cold-hearted murderer!”

Rick hummed and stepped forward. He slowly trailed his gun away from you, instead aiming it at the ground. “And Spencer? Who killed him, if she killed them all?”

Deanna hesitated for a moment, before she mustered up a reply. “She—she must be working with someone! With Daryl, maybe! You’ve all seen how close they are.”

“Daryl was there with us when we found the Boogeyman in the church. And so was she,” Rick voiced, motioning towards you. “And we never said where we found Olivia’s body, just that we found her dead.” That was the final nail in the coffin. Rick raised his gun and aimed it at Deanna, and you could see the blood drain from her face. Rick cocked his gun and stepped forward, his eyes cold as he regarded the supposed kind-hearted leader of the safe zone. “Don’t try to fight or run. If you do, we will kill you.”

Everything was a blur after that. Rick and Michonne somehow managed to secure handcuffs and ‘arrested’ Deanna, taking her back to the basement she had run from in the first place. They had told you to go see Denise, and that they would take care of Jessie’s body, should she be dead. Heeding their advice, you let Daryl escort you to the infirmary, and waited for Denise to finish up with another patient before she could attend to you.

“Ya alright?” Daryl asked you, finally speaking up after everything that had hone down.

You shrugged. “I’m as okay as can be expected, I guess.” Then, needing to get the question out of the way, you spoke up again. “Did you really believe that what Deanna said was true? That I killed all those people.”

Daryl instantly shook his head. “Nah. I knew from the get go that ya were innocent.”

You frowned slightly at his words. “How?”

“‘Cause Ron came clean to me ‘bout it right before Deanna made that whole spectacle. Said he heard his mom and Deanna talk ‘bout killin’ Olivia right before we found the body. Was gon’ tell everyone, but I got cut short.”

“Then why did you point your crossbow at me?”

“To get yer attention. To get ya to see the code I was sendin’ ya, but ya wouldn’t look down at my hand,” he told you with a small smile. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised, though. Ya had other things on yer mind.”

You sighed in relief. “Thank god you believed me. I thought Deanna was gonna get away with it.”

“Nah,” Daryl began. “Pretty sure none’a us believed her. We know ya wouldn’t do that. Hell, ya hesitate killin’ a rabbit. Yer too good for somethin’ as terrible as blatant murder.”

You smiled at him and leaned your head on his shoulder, sighing in contentment, being able to relax for the first time in weeks. The killers were caught, and you and your family were safe. You could sleep a little easier that night.

“We did it,” you mumbled, the exhaustion clear in your voice.

“Yeah,” Daryl voiced, pressing a soft kiss on top of your head. “Told ya we would.”

“Yeah, you did. Guess I should learn to listen to you more, huh?”

“It would pro’lly be for the best, yeah,” Daryl joked, chuckling when you punched his shoulder. “M’real glad yer safe, Sweetheart.”

“Me too,” you voiced. “Believe me, me too.” You nuzzled your face into Daryl’s shoulder. “I love you.”

A few beats of silence passed. “Love ya too, sweet girl. More than you’ll ever know.”

[f1amour]

heyyy! can i request “i’m scared of losing you” (from angst1) with oscar piastri?

❝ i’m scared of losing you ❞ — oscar piastri

pairing | oscar piastri x reader

content warnings | lots of miscommunication, angst, comfort, happy ending

★ JOIN MY SHORT N SWEET FRIENDSGIVING !

─────────────────────────

it had been a few months since you last attended a race due to your job obligations but in oscar’s eyes he only saw it as one thing; you’ve missed him winning a race, twice now.

in his eyes he thought you may no longer love him that he wasn’t worth enough for you. however, in your eyes you believed he no longer loved you especially due to his lack of presence in your life and never asking you to join him for a race weekend in months. both of you afraid to lose each other didn’t touch on the subject and living as if everything is okay.

until it wasn’t.

“i may not win another race this season but i would appreciate your support! you weren’t there for my two wins and i…i’m tired of this,” oscar argued back, you had both gone out to dinner in monaco after he returned from singapore. it started with a sweet conversation of what to do for the break to now bitter comments towards each other.

“tired of what? of me? i’m trying, oscar. i just started my third year of university and then work—.”

“work! it’s always work this work that. they always need you for something even though it’s not even in your title to do all that! you drop everything to be there for them but you can’t be there for me not even once…baby?” his mean words hit you immediately and you sit on the couch of your apartment hands covering your face as you sob uncontrollably.

“baby, yn…hey, hey breathe with me. it’s okay i’m here” oscar whispers on your ear, both arms cradling you now. was it okay? his approach may not have been the best but he wasn’t wrong. your job had been putting too much on your plate when you were meant to just be an underpaid intern who was doing multiple jobs that were not your responsibility.

“but you aren’t here, osc. i…i know that your career is demanding but you didn’t take a second to look back and realize i ease being left behind. i feel guilty i wasn’t there for your two wins especially your first. i begged my job to let me just visit you for a day to celebrate but they made me stay. it wasn’t even my day to work and i still stayed. i chose a job that doesn’t value me over you…you do care about me maybe not right now—.”

“i’m gonna stop you right there. i’m an idiot who didn’t bother asking how you’ve been recently and expecting you to support me more when i didn’t see what you’d been going through. i’m so sorry,” he whispers, his forehead pressed against yours kissing your tears away.

you whisper out five words you’d been feeling for awhile now, “i’m scared of losing you,” closing your eyes ready for oscar to say you’ve already lost him, “i’m scared too.” his voice matches your vulnerability.

opening your eyes looking at him in shock, “you are?” you felt like you were both taking a big step in admitting this. maybe, just maybe this would help in repairing your relationship.

“i am. i think we’ve been selfish towards each other but we also haven’t communicated right. i should have asked you more about how the job was treating you-,”

“i should have asked you how the team had been treating you.” you counter back and he chuckles.

“i know you want to be independent when it comes to your career. but i think you should quit that job and focus on school only. i know you don’t want me to take care of you financially but just let me do that for now until you graduate and find a job that will value the skills you have. i can’t lose us. i can’t lose you, yn. i love you.” his words filled with nothing but love, oscar meant well and for once you decide to take him up on the offer he’d been giving you since you started dating two years ago.

“okay.” a simple word replacing your frown into a smile on each others faces. there was work to do on your communication with each other but for now you both got to breathe a sigh of relief after facing a fear that would no longer happen.

[aquamarixx]

breaking the internet

chapter six a series of misunderstanding and lack of communication finally leads Hiori and Miss Journalist to talk, once and for all. blue lock longfic series pairing hiori yo x reader contains slow slow slow burn, post blue lock timeskip, afab!reader, hurt/comfort, implied !NagiReo, suggestive nsfw masterlist

For weeks, there’s been nothing but radio silence. 

You lost count of how many times you’ve typed a reply to Hiori, only to delete it afterward. Again and again. 

Each time, the words feel wrong. Too stiff, too needy, too defensive. No matter how you framed it, everything sounded wrong. What could you even say that wouldn’t make everything worse?

Plus, he didn’t follow up either. 

Every day, you’d sneak a peek into your Winstagram chats, only to see the same conversation where you left off. He’d view your stories, sure. A proof that he’s still there, just… watching. But other than that, nothing. 

On weekends, you’d log onto Steam, hoping to catch him there while you convince yourself to unwind. Every time you do, a few minutes after you log in, his name would pop up on your notifications.

hiyooooooo is now online

Your cursor hovered over his profile picture more times than you cared to admit. But fear—no, humiliation—held you back. You’d tell yourself it was fear of rejection, of misstepping. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t just that. Maybe it was guilt too.

So you’ll sit straighter in your chair, hands gripping tight on your mouse, waiting. Waiting for a game invite, a little message, anything.

But nothing ever came.

Gaming was supposed to be your escape, something you both shared but it seems like it can’t break the cold shoulder treatment you’re getting from him. 

Maybe I just need to see him. Or talk to him in person, you thought, clinging to the idea as though it might fix everything. Maybe it will. But still, easier said than done. 

Desperation leads you to ask your editor for a beat change. Anything but Manshine City. The name alone made your stomach churn. You just need some distance from it until you clear the air between you and Hiori. Especially since you two haven’t spoken since the Nagi incident. 

But Mercury in retrograde or whatever cruel force dictated your life these days, have other plans. Because your editor doesn’t budge. And to make matters worse, she hands you your next assignment.

“You’re covering another Manshine City game,” she said, her tone apologetic as it can be.

You want to protest. But before you can even spit out your rehearsed excuses, she cuts you off.

“They saw the numbers your Bastard München pieces pulled in,” she explained apologetically. “It’s PR gold for them.”

Her words hit you like a sucker punch. All the carefully prepared justifications in your head evaporated, leaving you standing there, mute and cornered.

Turns out, your editor and the Manshine City marketing manager are college buddies. She admits that the marketing manager cashed in a favor to get you to cover the team after seeing how you somehow brought good impressions to Bastard München. 

As much as you want to get mad at your editor, you can’t. This was the woman who took a chance on you. The same woman who took you under her wing, believed in you when no one else would. How could you even say no to her?

You shake your head. It wasn’t your editor’s fault, really. That’s just how this business works.

And isn’t it good? People are asking for you, specifically. Isn’t that what you wanted?

Then why doesn’t it feel good?

You should be feeling good about it, right? Swelling with pride, even.  Finally, people were putting a name to your work, treating you as more than a faceless, invisible byline. More than just an unfamiliar face in the video content.

Yet somehow, this void inside of you swallows every shred of accomplishment. And it leaves you unsatisfied and wondering if you truly deserve it. 

And maybe—just maybe—it’s because you can’t untangle work from everything else. Because the lines are blurring, and you’ve let Hiori seep into every corner of your life. You’re not even sure you mind.

It’s ironic, isn’t it? He’s the one who made you believe in yourself, who made you feel like you could be more than just a name at the bottom of an article no one reads. He gave you the confidence to think you belonged here. And now, the thought of him lingers like a shadow, casting doubt over everything you do.

It’s not his fault. You know that. But it feels like the push and pull between your career and the “thing” you have with him is tearing you in two. That undefined, messy connection was supposed to be your escape—a rare piece of joy in the relentless grind of your career.

Instead, it feels like you’re being forced to choose.

Career or connection. Ambition or affection.

The tension in your chest is sharp and unrelenting.

No, you didn’t have time to dwell on that. At this point in your career, beggars couldn’t be choosers. Your personal life? Your preferences? None of that mattered.

You just had to suck it up. And do your job.

The stadium continues to buzz with energy as Manshine City wraps up their match with another clutch win. You just finished interviewing Nagi and Chigiri, notebook clutched in your hand.

Exhaustion pulls at you, but you linger a bit longer, tempted by the upcoming match between Bastard München and Italy Ubers. You have to get going if you want to get started with writing at home and sleep early.

Before you can give in to that temptation and the idea of seeing Hiori even from afar, Reo and the Manshine City marketing manager pull you into a conversation about potential content collaborations.

Despite their excitement showing, you’re pretty much drained. Instead, you offer your goodbyes, attempting to avoid getting roped in further to their impromptu planning.

“Stay, Miss Journalist, stay!” Reo calls out dramatically before he drapes himself over Nagi like a cat. With an apologetic smile and a small wave, you quicken your steps to get further away. 

As you turn, you freeze when you nearly collide with someone. Hands catch you by the shoulders, steadying you before quickly letting go. 

“Hiori…” you breathe as you lock gazes with him.

For a moment, you swear he looked… hurt. But it vanishes as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual calm mask. He takes a step back, scratching the back of his neck, his gaze darting away from you. 

You’re just about to speak but Chigiri’s voice slices through the tension. 

“Hiori, hey!” Chigiri bounds over, oblivious to the atmosphere. His bright energy collides with the moment like a sledgehammer.

Hiori forces a strained, lopsided smile. “Hey.”

“You’ve met Miss Journalist, right?” Chigiri gestures at you with a grin. “Sorry for stealing your fan.”

Hiori eyes the Manshine City jersey draped on your shoulders. A casual gift from the team manager, thanking you for the support and hard work. 

His jaw tightens ever so slightly, his hands curling into loose fists at his sides. You feel your stomach twist uncomfortably. 

“Oh yeah? I’m hurt.” A laugh escapes him but his sarcasm is unmistakeable.  

“I-uh, I’m a Bastard München fan at heart, y’know that.” you stammer, gripping your notebook so tight. 

“Well, we don’t mind changing that, do we, Nagi?” Reo teases, his smirk sharp.

Nagi, ever the enigma, tilts his head lazily. “Hmm, changing someone’s mind is a hassle. But Miss Journalist seems worth it.”

That statement doesn’t help.

What the hell is going on in that guy’s head? Are they really riling up Hiori? 

“Wanna make a bet?” Reo’s voice is light, but the edge in his tone is clear.

“I don’t think she needs a bet to know who she likes better,” Hiori cuts in, his voice sharper than usual.

Usually, Hiori won’t be provoked by such trivial things. He gets enough shit like that within his team already. And it doesn’t faze him.

But this—this is different.

Because somehow, you’re involved and in the middle of it. And because it’s you.

He hates the way Reo’s arm brushes against your shoulder as he tries to invade your space. He hates the way Nagi’s detached comment earns a small laugh from Chigiri as if they’re onto something.

And most of all, he hates the image of you in that damn jersey. Or any other team’s jersey. 

Not to mention, he never saw Nagi take an interest in you before. Nor Reo. Not that you’re not attractive. Because you are. But this possessive feeling, is it even right?

It’s irrational. He knows that. He has no right to feel this way. But the jealousy festers anyway, fueled by weeks of silence between you.

“Scared she might like us like us more?” Reo continues to taunt him, his grin widening as he zeroes in on the crack in Hiori’s composure.

Hiori’s fists clench tighter. “Yer delusional,” he snaps, the words biting.

Men. Are. So. Full. Of. Themselves.

You’re not a prize. You’re not some trophy for their ego-driven competition.

Or whatever pissing content is happening between the guys.

Without a word, you turn on your heel and walk away, your steps firm and purposeful. But before you round the corner, you throw a seething glare in Hiori’s direction.

He sees it.

And it hits him harder than anything Reo could have thrown.

Hiori stares at the untouched plate of food in front of him, the hum of conversation around the dinner table fading into a dull, distant noise. His teammates' laughter and energy fill the space in the way only Bastard München could.

But he can’t focus. 

The moment from earlier—Reo’s teasing smirk, Nagi’s casual remarks, and the way you looked at him with such anger—loops in his mind like a highlight reel he couldn’t escape.

He doesn’t know what to do with the emotions simmering under the surface. The possessiveness, the jealousy. 

It doesn’t make sense, not when the two of you aren’t even together. Both of you haven’t talked about feelings, about whether you even felt the same way. 

So why did it feel like something sharp had lodged in his chest every time he thought about you with someone else?

His fingers drum lightly against his thigh as he fights the urge to check his phone again. He’s already done it too many times, looking at your messages, and wondering if he should text you. The silence between you has stretched so long that Hiori isn’t sure how to bridge it.

Am I being pushy? He thought, the question hanging heavy in his mind. 

Is it selfish to want more when we haven’t defined what this is? Am I not being a creep?

And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting.

To understand the little things that make you smile. To know you outside the boundaries of work. To know you in a deep, personal, and intimate setting.  

To be the reason for all those moments.

The weight of the thought crashes into him. His chest tightens as the room around him seems to blur—teammates laughing, cutlery clinking, voices overlapping—fading into a hollow echo. The world slows, yet his pulse quickens, each beat louder and heavier than the last.

And then, it hits him.

“I do like her.”

The words slip out of him before he even knows he’s saying them.

The jealousy, the longing, the unspoken hope he’d buried deep enough to convince himself it wasn’t there. But it was. It always had been.

The realization doesn’t just hit—it collides, with the force of a meteor smashing into the earth. It leaves him shaken, reeling, and terrified in all equal measure.

Oh god, I like her.

He’s been running from it, denying it, pretending it wasn’t there. But there’s no escaping it now. No undoing it. It’s real, undeniable, and alive inside him, threatening to consume him if he doesn’t let it out.

His gaze drops to his hands, fidgeting against his jeans. He hates the jealousy twisting in his chest. It wasn’t fair—to you, to the relationship you shared, undefined as it was.

Is my possessiveness hindering her job? She’s here to do her work, and I’m… what? A distraction? A complication?

The weight of the thought makes his stomach churn. And then there was the nagging doubt he couldn’t shake: Does she like me for me? Or is it just Hiori Yo, the athlete? The player?

His teammates’ laughter jolts him out of his thoughts. He blinks, realizing he missed half the conversation. He forces a tight-lipped smile as Isagi nudges him, but his mind wanders back to the phone in his pocket. 

He reaches for it, his heart quickening at the sight of your name on the screen. A message from you.

/yn_offthepage: what the fuck was that about earlier?

He freezes, his thumb hovering over the notification. He hasn’t heard you curse even once. Even through the text, he can hear your biting tone inside his head, ringing.

The screen dims, and Hiori lets it. The weight of his uncertainty presses heavily on him. For now, he couldn’t bring himself to open the message.

Later that night, back in his room, Hiori sits at his desk, staring blankly at his PC screen. Even the idea of gaming felt hollow. His mind was too restless.

His eyes wander to the image of you and him sitting at the pitch all sweaty. It was the candid shot someone had taken during the content shoot where he taught you how to dribble.

You were looking afar with a big smile on your face, and he was looking at you with so much yearning, the smallest smile tugging at his lips, betraying him.

The sight of it stirred something in him. A longing, sharp and bittersweet. He wanted to know if you ever looked at him the way he looked at you at that moment.

But what if opening up ruined what you already had? What if his feelings crossed a line you weren’t ready to acknowledge?

Hiori sighs, leaning back in his chair. The questions linger, unanswered. 

For now, all he can do is sit with them, hoping he’d find the courage to face you—and himself—soon.

Your schedule finally winds down when the JFA hosts a midseason party disguised as a roadshow for the upcoming months and next season.

It’s a rare opportunity to step away from the chaos of your work, and you’re willing to take it. Networking, getting insider info straight from the lion’s den—and of course, free food and drinks.

Especially the free-flowing alcohol.

Despite the “casual” label slapped on the event, it’s still as lavish as you’d expect. Thank goodness there’s no formal dress code. You settled on your favorite gray high-waisted trousers paired with a tight-fitting black sleeveless turtleneck. Professional but bold, with just enough skin to leave an impression. 

You can never go wrong with a little show of confidence, after all.

At the venue, you exchange pleasantries with Anri and Ego. The three of you make for an unusual trio, seated together like this. While you take notes as part of your routine, Anri occasionally scolds Ego for yawning or delivering sharp quips from the side. 

The roadshow presentation is a mix of team management personnel, media representatives, investors, and a few JFA partners. As usual, the rest of the crowd is either running late or loitering outside, waiting for the afterparty to begin.

At least, you’re at ease knowing that you won’t bump into any players. Not just yet.

As soon as the program ends, the three of you continue to chat at the bar counter over drinks. But before you can even swap gossip with Anri, she’s whisked away by a group of Blue Lock graduates—punctual players from Italy Ubers. That leaves you alone with Ego, who sips whiskey neat while you nurse a Long Island iced tea.

“You’re doing better than the last time we met. Not bad for an unpolished gem,” he remarks dryly, lifting his glass.

It’s a backhanded compliment, but you can’t help the small flicker of pride it sparks.

“It’s... okay, I guess. But honestly, I didn’t expect how tough it’d be. The lines between work, passion, and personal life blur so easily.”

You ramble about juggling deadlines, clashing assignments, and the weight of endless expectations. Ego listens in silence, his sharp gaze unwavering.

“Then be an egoist,” he says bluntly, cutting through your ramblings like a knife. “You think those brats are just selfish jerks? They are. But egoism is what keeps them on top.

“It’s what makes them grow, thrive, and become the best. You’re no different. You have to feed your ego too, or else you’ll be devoured and spat out until you’re an empty husk of yourself.”

His words settle heavily in your chest. Before you can respond, Ego stands up, gives a half-hearted wave, and strides toward the exit, muttering something about how his tolerance for the evening’s schmoozing has reached its limit.

Scanning the room, you notice Anri still deep in conversation with some JFA people by the dance floor, while others mingle in scattered groups. The bar counter feels empty now, save for you and the two bartenders.

It’s a good time to pause and gather your thoughts—or maybe strike up a conversation with someone if the alcohol kicks in enough courage. 

For now, you sit quietly, Ego’s words echoing in your mind.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe it’s time to stand up for yourself—to push for better assignments, to confront Hiori, to stop burying your frustrations under layers of professionalism and fear.

Liquid courage starts to course through your body, loosening your hesitation. You pull out your phone and quickly type a message to your editor.

“I want a new assignment. I think I deserve that much, don’t I?” You hit send and switch your phone to Do Not Disturb before you can even second-guess yourself.

Before your musings can go deeper, someone slides onto the stool to your right. You glance up to see Reo with his cheeks flushed pink and his smile wide with mischief. 

Behind him, Nagi trails, hands stuffed into his pockets, his disheveled hair giving him an even lazier charm. The scent of whiskey clings to them both, Reo more noticeably so.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t our favorite journalist,” Reo greets, his voice dripping with playful charm. “What are you doing here all alone? Don’t you know parties are for mingling?”

You glance up, managing to offer a small smile. “And here I thought parties were for free food and drinks.”

“Touché,” Reo laughs, leaning against the bar counter. “But c’mon, there’s more to this party than just snacks. Like us, for instance.”

“Us?” you echo, your brows raising slightly.

“Me and Nagi, of course,” he says, draping an arm over Nagi’s shoulder. “You know, we were just talking about you earlier. He thinks you’re cute.”

Nagi gives a small, noncommittal shrug, his half-lidded eyes fixed on you. “He’s not wrong.”

You blink, the casualness of his statement catches you off guard. Before you can process it, Reo leans in closer, his grin widening. “You should come dance with us. I mean, what’s the harm? A little fun never hurt anyone, right?”

Your laughter is polite but nervous as you shake your head. “I’m fine here, really.”

“Oh, come on,” Reo presses, nudging Nagi toward you. “You look real nice tonight. Don’t tell me you’re just going to sit here all night while looking like that.”

The warmth of Reo’s arm brushing against yours sends a strange buzz through you. Nagi watches quietly, an amused glint in his eyes, as though content to let Reo take the lead in whatever this is.

“You don’t have a boyfriend, right?” Nagi asks suddenly, his voice calm but cutting through the noise around you.

The question startles you, and your answer comes almost automatically. “I don’t.”

“Good,” Reo murmurs, his voice dropping to a suggestive whisper. “Then no one’s going to mind if we take you home tonight.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and electric. You almost choke on your drink, coughing slightly as you gape at him. “Wait, what?”

“Take you home,” Reo repeats, his smile slow and deliberate as if testing how far he can push. “You, me, and Nagi. What do you say? We’ll make sure it’s worth your time.”

Nagi’s lips quirk into a faint smile, watching you with an unreadable expression. “Reo’s kidding… mostly.” His tone is dry, but there’s an edge of intrigue that makes it hard to tell where the joke ends.

Your pulse quickens, confusion and a strange heat mingling as you glance between them. Reo’s boldness is dizzying while Nagi’s quiet amusement only adds to your disorientation.

“I… I’m flattered,” you stammer, your voice wavering. “But I’m not interested.”

“Aww c’mon! Give us a chance?” Reo pleads, lightly touching your bare arms.

“I’m really-” 

You wonder if this is just a game to him or something more. But before you can untangle your thoughts, a firm hand lands on the counter to your left, the loud cutting through the tension like a blade.

You turn your head to see Hiori, his smile strained but unwavering. His gaze flickers between you before settling on Reo.

“Mind if I borrow Miss Journalist for a while?” he asks smoothly, though his words leave no room for argument.

Reo raises his hands in mock surrender, his grin unfaltering. “Alright, alright. But I’ll get my dance one day, Miss Journalist! Think about it!”

Hiori doesn’t wait for a reply, instead, he places a gentle but firm hand on your lower back, guiding you away from the bar as Reo and Nagi watch the both of you saunter away. 

"Hey," a small smile plays on Hiori’s lips as he greets you. 

"Hi."

The balcony door slides shut behind him, muting the pounding bass and chatter from the dance floor. It’s just the two of you now, isolated from the noise, the cool autumn air biting at your skin.

You take a good look at Hiori. A white t-shirt tucked into matching trousers, paired with a soft navy cardigan that clings to his frame. He looks effortlessly put together, as always.

"Ya alright?" he asks, his voice laced with concern.

"Yeah," you lie, the words feel heavier than they should.

"What was that about?" Hiori frowns, tilting his head slightly.

"I… think Reo was asking me to uh… sleep with him and Nagi? Are they like, together?" you blurt out, half-laughing, trying to lighten the tension you can already feel brewing.

"Yeah, they are. Pretty low-key 'bout it. Wild, huh?" he chuckles, and for a moment, the tension eases.

But the silence that follows grows heavy. For a minute, neither of you talk. The soft whistle of the wind and the distant hum of the city fill the void between you, but neither of you moves to break it. Finally, you speak.

"You don’t text me anymore," you say suddenly, the accusation sharp.

"Ya never replied," Hiori counters just as quickly, his tone flat but the edge unmistakable.

You bite your lip. "I didn’t know what to say. It felt like you were accusing me of something."

Now, Hiori looks guilty, his lips pressing into a thin line.  "Just… just stop tryin’ to avoid this. Shuttin’ me out isn’t going to fix the problem."

"I wasn’t shutting you out," you argue, but even you don’t believe it. "I just—didn’t know how to respond. It felt like no matter what I said, it wouldn’t be enough."

"And ya thought ignorin’ me was better? Just pretendin’ nothin’ happened?" His voice rises, frustration simmering to the surface.

"What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, it was just work. I’m not interested in Nagi or Manshine City.’ What am I to you to have to defend myself like that?" you snap back, your voice trembling. 

"I don’t know!" Hiori snaps back, his frustration breaking through. "I thought we were close enough to say things like that to each other!"

"And your message had no emojis!" your words overlap with Hiori. It was definitely a petty statement but at this point, your emotions are spilling over in ways even you don’t understand.

Hiori’s eyes narrow, his voice dropping to a dangerous softness. "Didya ever care about me?"

"Because it doesn’t feel like ya do. Ya ignored me when we won. I looked for ya. I know ya saw me. But ya wouldn’t even look my way.." His voice cracks and you see the hurt he’s been burying. 

"Do ya know what that felt like?" His voice is a whisper, pleading. 

You know the answer. That it hurt like a bitch. Because you felt the same pain when both of you went on the silent treatment for weeks. Embarrassment flooded your chest.

This could’ve been resolved easily by just talking things through. This confrontation could’ve been avoided and saved you both the time. But no. 

Instead, you let the hurt fester even further, creating this invisible barrier between the two of you. And now, the blame game is on. And it doesn’t even make sense. 

"It wasn’t about you!" Before you can even think, your words tumbling out in desperation. "It was for work. I-I didn’t want to be seen as the Bastard München… fangirl."

"Why not?" Hiori’s voice rises, taken aback by your words. "We ain’t good enough fer ya? Or is it just me? Am I not good enough fer ya?"

The words hit you like a tidal wave, leaving you momentarily stunned. "I didn’t say that," you whisper, your voice trembling.

"And why should that matter?" Hiori snaps, his voice raw with emotion. "Why does it feel like yer always running away from me?"

Even Hiori himself can’t comprehend why he’s so frustrated. He’s felt betrayal from his parents before. For them caring more about his stature as an athlete than his well-being as their son.

But this one’s different.

He knows how petty he is being. But he can’t help himself not be vulnerable around you. All reason, all logic thrown out of the window because of you. 

All he can think at this point is how good it felt talking to you about work and games. How good it felt when you would talk about football with him with such a glimmer in your eyes that it fascinates him to see how you view the sport. 

How it felt good when you would run up to him to interview him and the team as you guys exchange knowing smiles, fingers grazing just barely. All he knows is that you are magnetic. 

Even right now, all he can think about is being close to you. 

You turn away from him. A shiver runs down your spine, regretting not wearing something more warm for this party.

I can’t do this. Not now, you thought. 

“Please leave me alone. For now. I can’t do this, Hiori.”

The autumn air nips are your arms. Instinctively, you cross your arm in hopes of warming yourself, eyes gazing away from Hiori still. A warm hand envelopes one of yours and you feel the thick cardigan drapes over you, shielding you from the cold wind. 

Hiori’s gaze softens, but his voice remains firm. "M’not leaving until ya tell me what’s going on. Why are ya pushing me away?"

Your shoulders slump as the weight of it all crashes down on you. "Because I feel guilty, okay?" you say. "I don’t want you to think I’m using you."

"People talk," you continue, your voice breaking. "All I hear is how I’m some opportunist, bandwagoning on Bastard München—on you."

You swallow hard, your chest tightening. "I don’t know what this is," you finally admit, gesturing between the two of you. 

"I don’t know what we are, or what I’m even allowed to hope for. And I don’t want to push you or cross a line, but it’s—" Your voice breaks, tears threatening to spill any moment.

"It’s like I’m trying to walk on this invisible tightrope, and I’m scared of messing it all up."

Hiori’s gaze softens, but you keep going, unable to stop now. "I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know how to navigate this—whatever this is—without hurting you or myself or both. And why should you care, right?" you add bitterly, the words tasting like poison.

Hiori steps closer, his voice breaking. "I care. Yer the one person who made me feel like more than just a player. And it hurts like hell to feel like I don’t matter to ya."

"You do matter," you whisper, your voice trembling. "You’re the one thing I think about when I work, Hiori. You’re the reason I believe in myself. But you’re… you’re s-so out of reach, and I’m terrified of ruining what little we have."

Your voice quivers as you reply, "And I don’t know how to fix it, Hiori. I don’t even know where to begin. And it’s not fair to you. You’re you—amazing and steady and… everything I’m not."

He closes the distance between you, his hands gripping your shoulders. "Dontcha get it? I don’t need us to have all the answers now. Just need ya to stop running."

Tears stream down your face as the weight of his words sinks in. "I’m scared," you whisper.

"And ya think I’m not?" he shoots back, his voice cracking. 

"Yer all I think about, and it terrifies me. But I don’t care. I’m here. I’m stayin’. And I’ll wait as long as it takes fer ya to figure out who ya are—because I already know who ya are to me."

For a moment, the world holds still. Then Hiori closes the distance between you, his hands cupping your face gently. He hesitates, searching your eyes for permission, and when you don’t pull away, he leans in.

"Yer amazing," he whispers, breath hot against your lips. "And ya don’t even realize it."

The kiss is soft at first, testing, but quickly deepens as the emotions between you spill over. His lips are warm, grounding you, and when his tongue brushes yours, it leaves you breathless.

You melt under his touch. The kiss itself is intoxicating, as if you’re drowning, lightheaded by the swirling emotions and the budding heat within you.

When he finally pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours. "I like ya too, y’know" he murmurs. "M’sorry fer doubting ya. Fer making ya feel like ya had to carry this alone."

He kisses you again, slower this time as if savoring the moment. "I’m sorry for being a coward. For not talking to you."

You clutch at his shirt, your tears mingling with his kiss. "I’m sorry too," you whisper into his mouth.

He smiles faintly, brushing a tear from your cheek. "All this because my message didn’t have an emoji, huh?" he laughs softly, the sound vibrating against your lips.

You let out a shaky laugh, the tension between you finally giving way to something lighter. In this moment, with him, you feel the weight of your worries start to lift, even if just for now.

In this moment, with him, you wish the night would never end.

amari's notes: struggled to write this one, i wanted to really get this chapter out quickly but i wasnt satisfied with my first drafts so i had to rewrite it so many times. i really wanted this to come out well. this chapter is close to my heart, esp when hiori and miss journalist talk about their insecurities. anw, I’d love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to leave a reply or drop an ask. i'll greatly appreciate it! Hope you all enjoy this chapter! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

[rosewine-5]

𝑽𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒖𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝑨𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 (𝟏)

Billy the Kid x b!woc reader

Being the pastors daughter meant you had to always be on your best behavior, never stepping off the right path, walking the straight & narrow path, and her eyes towards heaven. That was until a certain outlaw rode into your life, and taught you sometimes it okay to have a taste of hell with a little bit of heaven.

AN: readers last name is Bennett.

Word count: 1.3k

Here’s the link to part 2 & part 3

Divider by saradika

It was the same schedule: Wake up, pray, work, eat, give thank, sleep, repeat. It had been the routine for 20 years. Well, maybe just for you. The family consisted of her mother, father, 2 brothers, Michael and John, and then yourself. Father raised the 3 of you to have unwavering faith and trust in a higher power no one would see while you were still alive. In a way, if offered stability to your family, and yourself.

But it also came with rules, which in your case, sucked, especially being the only girl in the house. You weren’t allowed to go out late, while your brothers could come home as late as early morning. Your father wanted his “little girl” to be, as he said “the gem of the Bennett name” , and for the most part, you didn’t know what else to be, other than a farmer.

The town you resided in had enough fertile soil for people to grow their food, there was even a lake not too far from town with a few trees close by. You used to swim there, before some men decided to ransack the town. That night everyone met in the church since the raiders burnt the town hall to the ground. That very night the leaders of the community, including your father, all agreed to hire mercenaries to keep the town safe.

If this wasn’t desperation, you didn’t know what else it could be.

When everyone got back to the farm, you and your brothers questioned your father. His only excuse was “There are some times in which we can’t wait for God to save us”, and there was no further argument. “This is something we can’t pray our way out of, child! Maybe one day you’ll understand.” He shouted, making you shrink.

The next day you woke up early on the property and walked over the kitchen, where Michael was packing up a bag along with your other John. “What’s the occasion?” You asked. “Pa told us we’re going with him to meet the mercenaries the next town over.” Your brother, Michael said in a rushed tone, sitting down to stuff his belonging in a bag. “You never told me that.” You said, walking towards him. “Well you’re not my mother.” He said, not looking up at you. “But I am your sister, and older than you.” You added.

“By 5 minutes.” He said, smiling up at you. Your mother had given birth to you first on a winter day, and then Michael a few minutes later. You didn’t know if it was the fact you two were born on the same day or being twins, but you were closer to Mike then you were John.

“Are you two bickering again?” Your mother said, walking in. “We were just saying our goodbyes, Dove and I.” Mike said, putting on a smile and slinging his arm around your neck.

You had adopted the nickname Dove after your 10th birthday by your father. To him, the name symbolized what he wanted you to be: pure, innocent, peaceful. For the most part, you were pure, you didn’t have a choice to be anything but, being the pastors daughter and all. A part of you didn’t mind being stamped as “Holy” but that also meant you didn’t have the same freedoms or privileges you would’ve loved to have.

You were snapped oh of your train of thought when your father came from outside and called for your brothers. Three horses were already set up, belonging to them. None for you. “We’ll be back by the end of the week.” He said, kissing your mother goodbye, and then waking to you. “Best behavior, my dove, as always.” He said, kissing your forehead before riding away, your brothers behind him.

The next few days were full of chores, errands, and work. And boredom. Then came the day they were expected back, your mother stood next to you. “Penny for your thoughts, honey?” Your mom asked, making you nod. “He means the best for you.” She said, putting her hand on your shoulder, trying to stick her point. “He just doesn’t want to see you-.” “Act out of line? Have fun? Have a real life?” You interrupted, looking at her. “You know that’s not what I meant, love.” She said, putting some of the vegetables that were grown in a basket.

“Here, take this, throw them out, and get some air.” She said, basically leading you out of the room. “And honey?” Your mom called, making you look back, “We only treat you with different rules to keep you safe.” After throwing the vegetables out, you looked towards the town, and sighed. “Safe my god given ass.” You mumbled to yourself, walking towards the lake for the first time in a while.

There was a cool breeze coming from the lake, one that you took in with a content look on your face. You laid down in the grass and took a deep breath in, before closing your eyes. After a few minutes, all you could hear was the breeze blowing and the rustle of the leaves. It almost drowned out the noise from the town, as well as the noise in your head. It even almost drowned out the sound of the twig that snapped behind you. Almost.

Your head snapped behind you to see a tall slender boy leaning on a tree staring at you, a small smirk on his face. From his face alone, you could tell he wasn’t a local, you couldn’t even recognize him. You looked him over, his rough appearance a clear sign he wasn’t one to walk over. But his eyes were the most enchanting part of him. Those blue eyes drew you in like a siren to a sailor. And as much as you wanted to drown in them, you knew shook out of the trance; who is this man?

“You new around here?” You asked, breaking the silence. He looked you up and down, before meeting your eyes with a wolfish grin, chuckling to himself. “You could say that.” He said, looking deep in your eyes. “I’m Billy.” You nodded your head toward him, “Nice to meet you, Billy.” “So what’s your name, honey?” He asked, the smile never leaving his face. “I’m Bennett.” You said, holding out your hand. Billy then took your hand and then kissed it, “You must be the pastors daughter, you and your brothers have the same eyes.”

Here we go again

He then smirked to himself, “If I may, humor me Ms. Bennett.” You immediately turned back around and looked at the water, “I doubt I could make you shut up anyway, so go on ahead.��� You said, making him huff out a short laugh.

“What’s a lady like you doing by herself?” Billy asked, looking over you with a curious look in his eyes. “Like myself, huh? What’s that supposed to mean, cowboy?” You asked, not looking away from the water of the lake. You then heard his footsteps get closer, and then he was right behind you.

“I thought the pastor’s girl would know it would be safer to stay close to the house of the lord, than out here with her back turned, vulnerable.” Billy said, and you could see his shadow cover your frame, making you turn around, holding your shawl closer to your body, covering your shoulders.

In the moment you turned around, his eyes didn’t hesitate to look over your face, and then your body. Billy’s eyes went down to your neck and chest, making no effort to avert his gaze. “What a beautiful ring,” He said, getting your attention,” You engaged?” “No, it’s my purity band.” You said, holding it out so he could get a better view, and hoping he would leave you alone.

Instead, you saw a new look in his eyes.

One that let you know he wouldn’t leave you alone.

Interest.

Let me know what you think, feedback is welcome!

[inkpot909]

How They Text the Reader Headcanons

↳ Characters included are Bruno Brucciarati, Leone Abbacchio, and Guido Mista. Gender Neutral Reader with they/them pronouns.

A/n: I’ve always wanted to try my hand at doing x Reader text messages! This was very fun to make, and I do plan to make more of this kind of headcanon list for the rest of Bucciarati’s team.

Warning(s): None.

Bruno Bucciarati

Bruno’s text messages are straight to the point and utilize proper grammar like the mother he truly is deep down.

Not the type of person to send emoji’s… ever, really. This is because he views texting as a simple tool to use when he can’t just speak to you in person or over a phone call.

However, you prefer the funnier explanation of it actually being because he’s secretly very inept at using technology (this is very much so part of it he just won’t ever say so).

In all honesty, he prefers to call you and hear the sound of your voice more than communicating over text. He’s the type to call in order to converse about whatever mundane thing is on his mind instead of sending a text.

That said, he’s definitely the type to always tell you good morning or wish you goodnight with a sweet text message.

Also, because of his job, he’s often put into long-term situations where calling isn’t exactly ideal. That’s when he’ll text the most; he just wants to check up on you regularly when he can’t be there in person do so! This became especially true after rising to the position of Capo.

His text messages may seem… bland to those unfamiliar with him.

But since you know him as well as you do, they always ring as genuine and an extension of his polite kindness.

Admittedly, it is hard to argue against the fact that his straightforward style of text often leads to misunderstandings. This is due to his sometimes unreadable tone:

Leone Abbacchio

Hardly ever texted you at the beginning.

Since the two of you started going out, he’s gotten a bit better, though. Before, he was very adamant that if he has something to say, he’ll wait when he’s face-to-face with you.

But when he eventually let it slip that he often forgets what he even wants to talk to you about, you slowly began getting him to text you more.

Arguably the best method of doing so is to get him to tell you about something he feels strongly about. Whether it’s something positive like asking him about the music he’s been listening to recently, or it’s something more devilish like bringing up subjects that really bother him.

Leone is at least very reliable.

Meaning that, although he doesn’t often start a conversation over text himself, he will respond to you reasonably quick.

Tease him by claiming it’s because he has a soft spot for you and he won’t text for an entire day (you know he loves you).

He also prefers to use proper grammar and punctuation in his texts. That said, Leone does use emojis (usually just to express disappointment) and sometimes can seem more expressive in text than he is in actual conversation.

One sweet thing he does over text is that he always sends you a message after he makes it home after a particularly dangerous mission, informing you that he’s safe. He knows you worry, and although he often puts up a front claiming it’s annoying, he truly does take note of that concern.

Abbacchio’s just not completely used to having someone like you in his life who holds a special concern for him. He is adjusting; slow and steady.

And although he forms the habit of texting you more, it’s you and only you he has the energy to do this for (outside of probably Bruno). This leads to other’s on Bucciarati’s team to text you when they want to get a hold of him:

Guido Mista

Real talkative over text, especially in the evening after he’s finished with his dinner. He’s pretty expressive and uses a decent amount of emojis.

Will plop down on his couch with an exaggerated bounce, pull out his phone, only with the purpose of talking to you and doing nothing else on the device.

The two of you actually had to work on how late you’d stay up texting one another.

Hours disappearing in the blink of an eye and leaving you both extra tired the next morning. And on occasions that it was decided to take the conversation into a call… it’s easy to see why you both have slept in late more than once.

Although not as frequently as someone like Narancia, Mista will send memes every now and then. Not only that, but he always replies to the ones you send him.

He prefers to send you embarrassing or funny pictures of others in the group over memes, though. You’ve seen photos of Abbacchio and Fugo in particular that Mista could honestly use as blackmail.

This has bitten him in the butt quite a bit, though.

After discovering Mista’s been doing this, the others now send you every single unfavorable image they own of the gunslinger. Even Bruno’s sent his fair share.

And although Mista often forgets to say good morning to you through text, he always says goodnight to you.

Not only that, but Mista will text right after he’s completed with a mission. Although a bit of a goofball, he always takes work seriously, and will leave you on delivered on hours at a time depending on what he’s up to. But the minute things have calmed, he’s letting you know.

Mista will certainly ask one of his common out-of-pocket questions designed to get a conversation going via a text message.

This isn’t a bad thing per se, except for the fact that he has a bad habit of doing so at three in the morning.

Even still, they’re not the weirdest variation of texts you’ve ever received from him:

[mxauthor]

Too Good for Me

Summary: Chilchuck loves his wife, but he thinks she's too good for him.

Word Count: 1,944

Warnings: a little angsty, maybe ooc Chilchuck, half-foot reader, one curse word, fluff near the end

Within the half-foot community, everyone knows that Chilchuck Tims and Y/n L/n were meant to be. Both of their parents having lived close to each other, the once small children grew up together. 

Playing tag as small children, turned into shy hand holding and blushy kisses. Chilchuck adored Y/n with all his heart, nothing could stop him from coming home to her, not even the dark dungeons he found himself in. While Y/n believed that Chilchuck was her whole world. Having loved him since they were kids, Y/n only wished for her Chil to come home safe and sound to her. 

Their love continued to bloom throughout the years, having married young and created a family, the Tims couldn’t be happier. 

Chilchuck loves his wife. He’d do anything for her, he’d do anything to keep her happy and smiling. Shining like the sun, even if it meant she’d shine with someone other than him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n could tell that something was bothering her husband. 

It didn’t take much, especially since he was so easy to read. She watched as his brows furrowed and his nose wrinkled. His lips were slightly downturned as well, completing his ‘mr grump face’. 

With careful footsteps, Y/n approached the chair her husband was currently occupying. Once behind, she slid her arms around his shoulders and kissed the side of his head, “Good evening, Mr. Grump, would you happen to know if my husband was available.” Having felt the slump of his shoulders and hearing his defeated, albeit amused, sigh Y/n knew she temporarily soothed the twister of thoughts running through his mind. 

“I’ll ring him in for you Mrs. Y/n.” the auburn haired man jokes, before turning his gaze to catch the loving eyes of his wife. “Hello sweetheart.” 

She pecked his lips lovingly, “Hi lovie. Is something the matter? It’s been a while since the ‘grumpy face’ has come out.” Y/n voiced. A wife can’t help but be concerned for her husband, especially since he works dangerous jobs just for them. 

“Everythings fine, just thinking about a request of some sort.” Chilchuck smiled tiredly. His mind has been reeling about what one of his party members asked. While departing from the dungeon, Moslie, had caught the small huff Chilchuck exclaimed about seeing his wife after so long.

It didn’t take much, to cause Chilchuck to rant and rave about his wife back home. The group laughed and poked at the pink faced half-foot. Making him swear he’ll bring her to the tavern to meet them. But after sobering up, Chilchuck didn’t want to follow through anymore. His work and his life were two separate things. 

He wanted to keep them separate for as long as he could, but knowing that the moment he mentions it to Y/n, her radiant smile will kill all the courage to tell her nevermind and not have them meet at all. 

“Anything I can shoulder with you.” Her sweet voice pierced through Chilchuck’s thoughts. Her nose nudged his cheek, her arms still loose around his neck. The phrase ‘with him’ caused his heart to stutter. Knowing that she’d carry his problems with him, knowing that she’d support him with anything. Knowing that she’d be at his side forever, made the decision harder and harder. 

Chilchuck would be with her and carry everything with her until their skeletons turned to dust, which is why he wants to keep her all to himself.

Her smile alone makes the sun burn with envy. Anyone would be lucky to have her. 

And he wanted to stay lucky. 

But knowing that the smallest meeting with his party would cause even the stars to shine brighter with jealousy with how much she’d beam. Chilchuck had no other option but to lift his half of the world into her awaiting hands. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chilchuck sat silently at the table within the tavern. He watched as Y/n floated around, speaking excitedly with all members of the party. Even chatting with the wives that they’ve brought along. Her excitement almost made everything worth it. 

Almost. 

The auburn haired half-foot watched as his Y/n blushed red at something said to her. She then became bashful and her smile turned into something heart stopping. She looked away, before catching the eye of Chilchuck, then looking back again. A mutter of a response before Y/n excused herself for the conversation to talk with another member, luckily a woman this time. 

Chilchuck watched with insecure eyes, feeling like his greatest nightmare was happening before him and all he could do was watch. He hated being a part of a scene. Having everyone stare at him, waiting for his next comeback or action. And within the full tavern, that was surely the outcome. 

So he drank instead. 

Not enough to get him hammered and stumbling but enough to where his wife would always choose him. Enough to quiet the insecurities just for a moment. Enough to trick himself into believing that he was enough for Y/n, that she would never leave. That she’d want to spend the rest of her life with him. 

And it worked, until it didn’t. They always came back and it was getting harder to fight them. 

So he let them win and kept drinking the night away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The walk back to their little home seemed much longer than necessary. Almost like all the paths taken have stretched themselves while two were away. Chilchuck walked the path silent. His head hung low, the alcohol continued to flow through his system. 

The half-foot refused to look towards his wife, not wanting her to see his defeated expression. Chilchuck knew since childhood that Y/n was too good for him. That his grumpy and sour nature wasn’t worth her sticking around. He knew that he dulled her and just tonight, his thoughts were confirmed. 

She practically glowed all throughout the night. Her bubbly nature was addicting enough, Chilchuck almost didn’t need a drop of alcohol for the night. But her glow, directed at all his party members, made him feel sick. Seeing her bounce and laugh joyously, seeing her blush and dance with them just told Chilchuck that she’d be happier with someone other than him. 

How could she love a grump like him? How can she stay and wait for him for days on end? How could she simply be happy? 

Chilchuck grumbled to himself, reaching the door of their home. The man made quick work with the lock and entered, leaving it open for his wife that was tailing right behind him.

Y/n walked through and saw as her husband grabbed one of the wine bottles stored in the cabinets, taking a large drink and sitting himself at the table. She watched as he grumbled with himself. As if he was in an argument of some kind. 

His body language saying to leave him alone. That he wasn’t in the mood for any human interaction. 

But she took a tentative step towards him anyway. She moved her body to lean against him anyway. She wrapped her arm around his head to keep him against her anyway. She wrapped her other arm over his shoulder anyway. 

She held him anyway. 

And she continued to hold him as he cried.

Chilchuck gripped onto Y/n’s arm, making it so she can’t let go. So she can’t leave. He wanted to push her off, tell her that he wasn’t good enough, break her heart so she could leave and be happy with someone else. Someone who’d make her shine and laugh and dance. Someone who can talk about his feelings. Someone who’d take her on dates everyday. Someone who’d give her flowers and tell her they love her everyday. 

Someone who isn’t him. 

“You deserve better than me, Y/n.” his voice came out meek. Like it was painful for him to even say the words in the first place. Y/n looked at Chilchuck with bewilderment, not believing he’d even say such a thing. All her love for him was ready to pour out, but the tightening grip on her arm silenced them. 

“I’m a grumpy old man, who’s gone all the time. An old man that’s bitter and emotionless. I don’t even tell you I love you. I don’t bring you gifts or flowers. I never talk about work or anything else and you just met my co-workers after 2 years of me working with them.” Chilchuck ranted. His tears continued to fall, voice weavering between words. His hold still tight, no matter how much he believed he wasn’t enough for her, Chilchuck wanted her to stay right there, needed her to stay with him. “I’m a lousy husband and barely a good enough father. You don’t need someone like me holding you down.” 

Y/n dipped her head down, lay her forehead against Chilchuck’s crown. She breathed deeply before speaking, “I no longer feel pretty. I’ve outgrown my gowns, and I feel fat. Our daughters prefer their father over me. I think I’m a terrible mother, and they don’t love me as much as they love you. I say home, waiting for my husband because he’s the only thing that makes me smile anymore. But even then, I don’t think I’m pretty enough for him.” She rose her head and turned his until they were meeting eye to eye. Y/n took in his slightly red nose, the tears within his eyes and the water path the previous ones made. Her gaze softened, tears of her own welling up in her eyes, her hand coming up to cup his face, wiping them away. 

“But seeing the way he looked at me tonight. Like I’ve given him life, was enough to show me that he loves me as much as I love him.” She leaned down and rested their heads together. Chilchuck closed his eyes, taking in her warmth. “And god I love him so. His beautiful eyes and sweet smile. His warm embrace and powerful kisses. His grumpiness in the mornings, that always softens when I cuddle him. His loving words and sweet gestures. It makes me swoon every time. I love him dearly and deeply. And nothing could change that, nothing could make me stop loving you Chilchuck. Not when we were kids and definitely not now.

“I don’t need gifts or flowers. I don’t need you to tell me you love me all the time. I don’t need to know about work and I could’ve gone a whole lifetime without meeting your friends because all I need is you. You in my arms, your kisses on my lips, your life entangled with mine.” 

Chilchuck slowly pulled away, looking into Y/n’s eyes. All he could see was love and adoration, like he hung the stars themselves. 

“I love you Chilchuck Tims. And I know you love me. That’s all I need.” 

Chilchuck crashed his lips to hers. Pulling her into a searing breathless kiss. Y/n kissed him back just as hard. Trying to suffocate all of his own insecurities to make them die with her love alone. Chilchuck pulled her onto his lap, holding her close as he continued to kiss her breathless. 

Within this moment, Chilchuck believed himself stupid for wanting his beautiful wife to find someone else. Stupid to think that she’d even think of going anywhere without him. 

Stupid to believe that she didn’t love him the way he loved her because at this moment he’s drowning within her love and he’d die right there. 

Because loving her was lucky. 

And he was fucking lucky.

[dadsbongos]

Hi!!! Hope you’re doing well - I just want to take a moment to gush before I ask something, because I’ve really enjoyed your blog since finding it:

1: your writing is SO good I’ve reread your dunmesh fics several times now & just eat them up every reread. I’m stoked you also have funger content & can’t wait to eat those up

2: your blog’s aesthetic is just 🤌🤌 chefs kiss

3: your chilchuck’s wife fic - I’m convinced you are the chilchuck expert you characterized him so well (& the bit in the 3some fic when he choked the reader ? gulp)

OKAY on the with the actual question: I was wondering if you have any chil thoughts for the chilfuckers? Maybe some sfw / nsfw?

thank youuu :] i'm so glad to provide for the dungeon community with both meshi and funger <3 and also extra glad to make the chilchuck people proud, he's my fav lil man

i have so many chilthoughts bc i am a verified chilfucker i need that middle aged man

nsfw chilthoughts 

MEAN mean man

Likes to make his partners huff and whine, especially if they start haughty or mouthy

Facefucking, especially, for the mouthy ones. Wants to shut you up and make you drool

Lately the thought of Chilchuck fist-fucking a bigger race has been making me sweat… like yeah lil man, get up in that thang… I need to write it. Maybe some dwarven wench who keeps mocking Chil, or an ogre that feels its appropriate to pick n lift him up while working

Schrodinger’s breeder kink - sometimes its all he’s thinking about and sometimes the thought is entirely uninteresting

Touched on it a BIT in my body swap fic but i think Chil has a really sensitive neck and likes being held there (maybe not choked, but grabbed and stroked for sure)

Has a secret goon for younger partners but doesn’t like admitting to it, the taboo of it makes him all hot especially since he knows most other races can’t tell. Like a VERY poorly kept secret that could ruin his distinguished reputation

i also have chilchuck fic ideas that i haven’t fleshed out, but thought it’d be a shame if they sat in my ‘puter unseen:

Idea 1: Reader is a young elf, only about 72, and against all odds began dating Chilchuck. On his 30th birthday, it's brought to attention that you’ll be in your 90s when he dies. Leading to a spiral wherein you’re just trying to live in blissful ignorance to your races’ lifespan difference, and Chilchuck assumes you’re mature enough to handle his death, move on, and remember him fondly… lol… anyway. When Chilchuck dies you study how to maintain your own mana without a dungeon and practice minor healing spells until you can do a full revival, which fails on Chil, so you have to turn to dark magic. Basically rewinding his life until he’s the same age as when you two met and he’s upset you brought him back because YOU could get in major trouble and that’s when you confess you didn’t tell anyone when he died bc you knew you’d bring him back -- and you’re a nutcase that keeps doing this every time he dies despite knowing he wants to die peacefully. Omg loving someone so much you need them at all costs even ruining their perception of you… 

Idea 2: Chilchuck helping a 20-ish(+?) y/o half-foot negotiate a contract for themself and he thinks they’re soooooo cute so they get together, and he’s kinda nervous to bring them around cuz you’re crazy young compared to him. Not even a child to speak of GASP. The party doesn’t notice at ALL cuz they have no idea about anything about half-foot aging and customs -- but his daughters look at him sideways lmao

and this is literally not even a full fic idea but i have a note from my chilchuck master doc for you lol

im so normal about him