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l0vergirlsw0rld · 9 months ago

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my little voyeur

neighbour!loganxvoyeur!reader

a/n: so sorry about the hiatus, started university and midterms are already here, crazy. anyway, enjoy this little idea i had, inspired by a real life situation. xox

wc:3.1k

MDNI !!! 18+, AGE GAP, SEXUAL CONTENT, ALCOHOL USE

summary: Y/N is growing needier with every one-night stand her hot neighbour brings over, one night she decides to be his next.

"-Oh fuck, keep going!" A muffled voice cried between the rhythmic thumping noises that came from the ceiling above you.

You bit down on your lip, shifting needily on your sofa.

"Here we go again" You mumbled to yourself, glancing at the clock on your microwave.

8:37 PM.

"Earlier than usual... Do you have to be somewhere early tomorrow?" You pressed the mute button on your TV remote to get a better listen.

The intrigue in your neighbour's activity had been a shameful recent development. He'd have company over almost every night now; which meant constant, rough sex.

The shared two-story house was old, and the walls were poorly insulated, which surely didn't aid your newfound obsession. Your unit was the basement suite: a homely one-bedroom, one-bathroom with a large kitchenette and living room. Even though you both lived in the same quarters, you both had your own respective spaces and entrances, which meant you rarely crossed paths.

You knew little about the man upstairs, only that he lived alone, wasn't the talkative type, and rode a Harley Davidson that was equally as loud as his one-night stands.

Though it was ill-mannered of him to be as careless as he was, you couldn't stop yourself from being attracted to him. He might've had a good twenty years on you, but that didn't matter in this case.

The man was in phenomenal shape for his age; You had come home one day to him working on his bike, shirtless. His physique was composed of thick broad shoulders that counterbalanced his narrow waist and muscular biceps that bulged beneath his skin, flowing seamlessly into veiny forearms. Dark curls of hair stretched downwards from his brawny chest, over his chiselled abs and disappeared into the denim waistband of his wranglers.

To pair with that irresistible body, was a charmingly rugged face. Thick, untamed eyebrows cast a shadow over his piercing hazel eyes, while dense sideburns traced the sharp angles of his jawline. His short, spiked hair flared into two distinct tufts on either side of his head, adding to his wild, primal look.

"-Logan! I'm coming!" The voice screamed. Since this all began, you found yourself feeling rather bitter. Not only was it rude and annoying but from what you managed to pick up, most nights they would be playing out the very type of fantasies you'd always had but never got the chance to experience.

You let out a heavy sigh, feeling that excitement slowly pool in your lower stomach. You knew this would end soon, Logan seemed to have quite the routine, so your impending neediness wouldn't go any farther.

His partners were usually dead silent for the rest of the night, presumably busy sleeping off the intense sex, which made the inconvenience somewhat tolerable. The only time they would potentially disturb you again was as they made their exit down the stairs the morning after. You could catch glimpses of them as they passed in front of your kitchen window, usually around the time you'd be having your coffee.

From the looks of it, he had a type: girls your age. They'd always be dressed in last night's skimpy outfit, with knotted hair, but somehow still looked gorgeous. As they stumble their way to the taxi at the edge of the driveway. You'd observe them closer pressing up the glass, often spiking your jealousy.

The first few you had laid eyes on made you snicker a jaded"How original." But you were well used to it by now.

Logan was your typical walking mid-life crisis; Bringing home adventurous young women, fucking their brains out, sending them away in a yellow chariot and never talking to them again. From the frequency of these one-night stands it looked as if he was trying to satisfy a hunger he couldn't seem to fulfill. Almost like preparing for hibernation.

He was living the bachelor life that men his age could only dream of having, but there was something about the whole routine that felt...off. It was as if every conquest left him more empty, more distant and detached from everything and everyone around him. It wasn't just women that Logan indulged in, he was also a heavy drinker. You could tell by the recycling bin, always overflowing with liquor bottles, and the fact that the few times you'd been to The Black Lodge—the only bar in small-town Burns, Alaska—you had seen him there

You watched from your bar stool, careful to remain unnoticed. The brief exchanges between him and the bartender made it clear he was a regular—no need for small talk, just an easy, practiced silence. Logan's eyes, however, never lingered on the glass of neat whiskey in front of him. Instead, his gaze swept over the crowd, scanning for his next target, his posture relaxed but predatory. Despite his intimidating exterior, there was something magnetic about the way he worked the room, luring them in with lustful glances. He wasn’t just playing the game—he was built to win.

His trophy shelf was overflowing, yet there was no trace of happiness in Logan’s eyes.

You couldn’t help but wonder if this was the Logan everyone else saw—rough around the edges, careless, chewing through women and booze as if they were nothing more than fleeting distractions. Or was there something deeper, a hidden tenderness that only emerged behind closed doors? He never had family or friends over, just a revolving door of women. His life seemed lonely, private, and it made you wonder what demons gnawed at him when the nights grew quiet and the distractions faded away.

Was it trauma?

Regret?

Or just the inevitable realization that his time was running out?

A part of you cared and wanted to be there for him, but it wasn't as simple as ringing his doorbell, he was unapproachable. During the few interactions you shared, he made it unmistakably clear that he had no interest in forming any kind of relationship with you. His responses were dry and curt, laced with a dismissive tone that cut down any hope of connection. Each word felt like a brick wall being built between you. He practically didn't look at you the entire time, keeping his eyes focused everywhere else but on yours. You couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment with every exchange, it was as if he was purposefully keeping you at arm's length.

Through your confusion, you understood why. You weren't what he was interested in, you couldn't contribute to his unfaltering hunger. You were more than happy to not be categorized with what he'd bring home from the bar, but a slight part of you wished that for one night, you would be.

The selections were slim in Burns and you were newer to the area, which made it impossible to call for a late-night booty call, unlike him. It had been a long time since you'd last been with someone and the constant exposure to Logan's fruitful sex life made you grow needier by the day, which is where your obsession initially formed.

It began with something small, almost too innocent to notice. You found yourself paying closer attention to his everyday routine, drawn by curiosity. You’d glance out the window to check if his motorcycle was parked in the yard, and when you heard the faint sound of his footsteps starting the day, you’d instinctively check the clock taking mental notes of his wake-up times.

Before you knew it, your interest had evolved into something deeper, something far more personal. You began noticing his trash in your shared waste bin; discarded remnants of his life blending into your obsession. At the liquor store, you found yourself buying the same brand of beer he preferred, curious to experience the taste that would linger on his lips if you kissed him. At the supermarket, you began to choose the same detergent, not for practical reasons, but to breathe in the scent that clung to his skin.

There was a day that he left his Johnny Cash shirt outside. He tossed it on the ground carelessly after working up a sweat while fixing something in the yard. When he left, you ran out and took it. As your compulsion grew, so did your need for closeness to him. The shirt became more than just a relic of him—it was a trigger.

You began wearing it late at night, feeling its used fabric against your skin. While the sounds of him having sex filtered through the thin walls. The rhythmic creaking of his bed upstairs, the faint moans, you’d inhale it deeply, lost in his scent. You'd thrust your fingers deep inside of you, following along with his rhythm, imagining it was him inside you—picturing how Logan would take control, filling you with the intensity you longed for. In those moments, it was as if he belonged to you, even if just in fantasy.

Your cheeks flushed red as you listened along, It was become too much to handle. You unmuted your episode and got up, needing to find some distraction.

"It’s almost over," you told yourself, trying to ignore the urge to grab his shirt and take care of things right then and there. Instead, you walked over to the unpacked boxes in the corner of your living room, hoping to find a distraction.

As you opened the cardboard, you started sifting through the mismatched stuff crammed inside. Your fingers brushed against something soft and bristly, sparking your curiosity. You tightened your grip and pulled it out for a better look. To your surprise, it was an old wig from a Halloween costume—vivid and wild, a memory you had almost forgotten.

The faint sounds you were trying so hard to ignore managed to slip through anyway, sparking a devilish idea as you twirled the wig in your hands. You were going to get his attention, whether he liked it or not. A mischievous grin spread across your face; this could be your way in. It was time to shake things up and show him a side of you he hadn’t seen yet.

It was the next day, and you knew for sure that Logan would be at that bar, just like he was every Thursday. You stepped inside, adjusting the wig discreetly, tucking away any hint of your natural colour, determined to become someone new for the night. This was a wild idea, but desperate times called for bold measures. You were dying for some relief and he was the only remedy for this ache you couldn’t shake.

The bar buzzed with energy, a lively crowd which meant you had competition. But tonight, you were set on one thing: going home with him, and anyone else.

You’d dressed the part—skin exposed, tight-fitting clothes that hugged your curves just right, making you feel both powerful and vulnerable at the same time.

You scanned the bar, your heart racing as you spotted him in his usual seat. The moment you walked in, his eyes locked onto you, holding your attention captive. You averted your gaze and took a shaky breath, your feet guiding you across the room, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Pretending not to notice his gaze, you played coy, an enticing smile dancing on your lips. You slid into the seat across from him and reached for the black menu that lay before you, feigning interest in the options. Your eyes traced the words, but your mind was elsewhere—focused on the weight of his stare and the electric tension building between you.

The bartender approached, and you quickly ordered the first thing your eyes landed on, feeling a rush of nerves. You folded the menu neatly, deliberately turning your attention to the crowd, avoiding his gaze, you weren't playing his game, you were playing yours. The thrill of the chase sent a shiver down your spine. The bar chattered around you, laughter and conversation creating a lively backdrop as you focused on maintaining an air of nonchalance, even as you could feel his eyes on you, studying you with that intensity.

A beautiful stemmed glass slid in front of you, snapping your attention to your hands. You mumbled a thankyou and you took a sip, savouring the sweet burn as it slid down your throat. It gave you a moment to gather your thoughts. Just as you were about to steal a glance his way, you noticed from your peripheral that he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. That confident look told you he knew exactly what you were doing.

"Nice wig," he said, his voice low and smooth, cutting through the noise of the bar like a knife. The compliment sent a rush of heat to your cheeks, but you kept your expression cool, shooting him a sidelong glance as if you were just as unfazed by him.

“Thanks,” you replied, forcing a casual tone. “Just thought I’d switch things up a bit.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. The game was on, and you were ready to play.

Logan leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “It suits you, it's different.”

You felt a thrill at his words, the compliment warming you in ways you hadn’t anticipated. You kept your composure, but inside, your heart raced. “I like keeping things interesting,” you replied, matching his playful tone.

The atmosphere around you shifted slightly, the crowd fading into the background as you locked eyes again. The moment felt charged, filled with unspoken possibilities. You could sense the magnetic pull between you intensifying, and it was exhilarating.

He took a sip of his drink, never breaking eye contact. “Well, you're doing a good job of doing that."

You smiled, feeling a rush of confidence. “It's just a little bit of fun for a Thursday night. What about you? Same old routine, I bet?”

His smirk widened a glint of challenge in his eyes. “You could say that. But maybe I’m looking for something different tonight.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. This was the moment you’d been waiting for. You leaned forward, pushing your breasts together. “Well, that's hard to imagine. What’s your idea of different?”

Logan’s eyes dropped to your cleavage. “How about we take this conversation somewhere a little more private?” His voice was low, rich with promise, and it sent a jolt of anticipation through you.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning casualness even as your heart raced. "And where would that be?”

He chuckled softly, a deep, rich sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “How about the upstairs at your place?”

The two of you made your way up the narrow staircase, the familiar creak of the wooden steps echoed in the silence. You could feel the heat radiating off him, each step heightening the anticipation of what was to come. You both reached his door, and his keys jingled as he unlocked it.

The door swung open, and you stepped inside as he held the door open for you. The soft light from his living room illuminated the space, casting warm shadows that danced along the walls. The place was surprisingly tidy, with the scent of cedar and booze lingering in the air.

Logan followed you in, closing the door behind him with a deliberate click that sent a thrill down your spine. “Welcome to my humble abode,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

You didn't know what you expected but it wasn't this. You took in the details of his space—artwork hung at odd angles, a well-worn couch sat invitingly in the center, and an empty whiskey glass perched on the coffee table. It was comfortable, lived-in, and spoke to the kind of man he was.

“Nice place,” you said, trying to sound casual, but your pulse quickened as you caught the intensity of his gaze. A beat passed.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, a hint of seriousness threading through his playful tone.

Your heart raced at the implication of his question. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” you replied biting your lip, voice steady from a boldness surging through you.

Logan smirked, his expression shifting from playful to something more primal and dark.

“Good. Because I don’t plan on holding back. Gotta teach you a lesson after all,”

Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you, backing you against the wall with a firm press of his body. The warmth of him enveloped you, and you felt your breath hitch as he leaned in, his lips hovering just inches from yours. As he grabbed your face, his calloused fingers dug into your cheeks roughly, parting your lips open.

“I know you took my shirt, you fucking freak,” he murmured, his voice thick and husky.

You were unable to form words as you felt the threat of what was to come flood your senses. Your heartbeat stammered in your rib cage, fear overcoming you but there was a thrilling undercurrent of excitement that was hard to ignore. Logan’s intense gaze held you captive, and the edge in his voice sent the tension crackling in the air between you.

“You didn’t think I’d notice?” he continued, a low chuckle escaping his lips, laced with a hint of danger. “A man owns about three good shirts and is bound to notice when one goes missing.” His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, making your breath hitch again, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond.

“You’ve been watching me,” he stated, his voice dropping even lower. “Spying on me like some lovesick teenager. It’s cute, but it’s also… a little sick.” The intensity in his gaze softened slightly, a flicker of something deeper behind his fierce exterior.

You swallowed hard, the words caught in your throat. “I—”

“Save it,” he interrupted, his grip tightening around your jaw just enough to keep your attention focused on him. “Don't give me excuses. Tell me why.”

The question hung in the air, heavy and charged. What could you possibly say that would explain the tangled web of emotions and desires that had led you here? His proximity was intoxicating, and the conflict between fear and yearning made your head spin.

“I... I just wanted to understand you,” you finally managed, your voice barely above a whisper. “I hear you with the women you bring home... and I want that. ”

Logan's smile grows somehow even darker. "So ya' got all dressed up for me because you want me to fuck you like I do with the others? That right, sweetheart?"

The only thing you could do at this moment was give him an eager nod, the ache between your legs growing shamefully larger by the second.

“I’ll give you what you want kid', but you need to know something first.” He paused slightly, the air between you thick with tension.

“I’m the best at what I do, and I don’t do it very nicely.”

cliff hanger I know, but i'm such a slut for teasing.

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heartyluv · 11 days ago

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Note: My goodness, we’ve reached the end LOLLL. I just want to take the time to say thank you all so much for enjoying this little series. It started as a quick little angst fic, but then when I saw how many people asked for more, I knew I had to expand on it. Every single engagement with this story has made my heart so warm. I hope that you enjoy this final part!

Creds to @/kimjiho1 and @/strangergraphics for the dividers.

Warning: Smut (WE MADE IT), a gun gets pointed at you (NOT BY CALEB OMG), a little angsty, tooth-achingly sweet overall, they are so cute it’s insufferable

Word Count: 7K (Idek how..) I proofread so many times, but I do it on my own, so pleaseeee forgive me for any grammatical errors!

Summary: Finale! Part four to Ex-Husband!Caleb.

Part One • Part Two • Part Three

Ex-Husband!Caleb/Reader ~ Part Four

The kids were in bed earlier than usual because of how tired they were from all the fun they had with their father over the weekend as the house settled in comfortable silence. Officially, you were prepared for a night of doing absolutely nothing.

Unfortunately, Caleb had to cut their stay a little shorter than usual, hurriedly dropping them off in the early afternoon today. He had quickly explained as he handed you their bags, that he received a phone call from work. You wondered if he noticed how he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek as if it were routine before he told you he’d call you when he got there.

The kids were supposed to be back with you later in the evening, and he did up reaching out and apologized for the abrupt arrival. Caleb hated to have to cut time with them, but after being informed that it was an emergency that required his presence, you could let it slide this once.

Freshly showered, house clean, and your babies safe in their beds, you sat down to start a book you haven’t had the chance to pick up since you bought it. Despite it being a quarter to eleven, you weren’t even remotely tired, but it was only a few pages that were flipped before you were interrupted by your phone pinging with a text message.

Caleb ❤️: Hey, I’m outside. Didn’t want to ring the bell and wake the kids. Open up?

Immediately you were confused after reading it, truthfully a little concerned more than anything. Rushing up and off your corduroy couch, you pulled the front door open to find Caleb with a pink princess book bag slung over his shoulder and wearing the white dress shirt with black slacks you saw him in earlier. His clothes were slightly disheveled from a seemingly tough day, but he’s never looked so good. He smiled at you when greeted by your pretty face.

“Blythe forgot her book bag. With all the rushing, I didn’t even notice we never grabbed it on our way out.” His hand extends with it in tow for you to receive. “I got to my apartment and it was the brightest thing in my living room,” he chuckles. “Didn’t want anyone panicking about where it was tomorrow, so I thought it was best to drop it off.”

“Thanks.” You grin to yourself, all that worry immediately dissipating. For a moment, you wondered what Caleb’s apartment must look like if anything that wasn’t related to his little girl was a dull sight. It brought you a swift ache of sadness, but you quickly gathered yourself. “I wish you hadn’t drove all this way, through. They don’t have school tomorrow.”

“They don’t?” His head tilts to the side in thought.“Oh shit, you’re right. Teacher development.”

“Teacher development,” you say at the same time that he does. You appreciated that your kids’ school has a day every few months where teachers are to attend workshops to improve on their skills, curriculums, and yearly plans. You saw the positive result of that reinforcement in your children’s academic success and excitement daily.

“But, still, thank you. How are you, though? Was everything okay at work?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Just a last minute important meeting that I couldn’t miss. I’ll make it up to you and the kids.”

“It’s okay, Caleb. No worries. We understand.”

With tired eyes, he looks over you and suddenly, you feel naked despite your large t-shirt and sweatpants.

“I should head back,” he sighs. “It’s late and I need to eat something. Goodnight, pretty.”

A quick thought flashes in your mind as he gets ready to turn around. You wondered if it was a coincidence—perhaps fate?

“Wait,” you gently take hold of his bicep, trying your best to not groan at the way he effortlessly flexes in your clutch. “Guess what I made.” Caleb looks at where you touch him, his body relaxing immediately like muscle memory.

“You teasing me with something I can’t have?” He quirks a brow in amusement.

“Who said you couldn’t?”

The breathy laugh he exhales makes you grin wider. Since that first date with Caleb, you’ve gone on quite a few this last month. Successfully, you’re taking it slow—well, as slow as you could with a history like what you and he shared. It’s the happiest you’ve been, even if he was the one who originally brought you sadness so immense that you’d never wish it on anyone, in the first place.

Life was weird that way. What could shape and define you could also gain and own the power to absolutely crush everything that encompasses your entire existence. Whether Caleb intended to or not, that’s exactly what happened with your heart in his hands. But you could comfortably say that in this moment, there would never be a repeat of the latter.

You have fully accepted that you wanted this man back in your life. With the way that everything was lining up right now, you believed that the universe was just as accepting of that.

“What are you saying, baby?”

“I’m saying,” you pull him closer and he moves with ease as if drawn to you like a audience entranced by a powerful operatic chorus. “That I want to do something for you this time. I think you’ll be quite surprised when you see it.”

“You don’t have to do anything for me.” He places his other hand over yours, taking ahold of it and bringing your knuckles to his lips to kiss.

“Good thing I said that I wanted to, didn’t I?”

You don’t let him try and weasel his way out of something you know he wants, too. Caleb is never ashamed to admit how desperate he is to be with and around you—to be in your space. But he’s been so afraid of rushing anything because of the boundaries you initially set in place. You completely understood and thanked him consistently for it. That’s why you have to be the one to give him that nudge.

Once’s he’s pulled inside, you take his hand and lead him to the kitchen to sit at the island. He watches with curiosity as you fiddle with a pot of something on the stove after getting a plate from the cabinet.

You’re glad that you didn’t put dinner away with the intention of having some for yourself since you didn’t get the chance to eat from being so busy with house chores.

As the plate you made heated in the microwave, the most delicious smell entered Caleb’s nostrils—an aroma he would never dare to forget. He didn’t want to disrupt the peaceful silence, not just yet. Not until he was absolutely sure. But when you pulled the plate out after a few minutes and placed it in front of him, it took everything in him not to stand and kiss you.

“Your roast?” he says with shock as he looks up from the savory gravy spilling into the homemade mashed potatoes.

“Mhm,” you lean over the counter, holding yourself around your arms. “I bought one on my own a few days after we went grocery shopping together and I hadn’t had the courage to make it. I was afraid I lost my touch,” you shrugged. “Finally decided to give it a go, and what a coincidence that you show up, hm?”

You usher him to eat, knowing that he wants to hang onto every word you’re saying, but you want him to kill that hunger first. He doesn’t need further convincing—hell, he didn’t need it in the first place. You tentatively watch as he scoops up some of the food with the fork, bringing it to his mouth while you ramble as a way to protect your mind and heart from what he could say.

“It’s not as fresh, especially because it was in the microwave. I’m sorry if it’s not quite the same. It’s just been so long and I thought about how you said you’d like to have it again one da—”

“Baby,” he interrupts you. He goes in for another bite, like he needs further confirmation, making you push a gentle laugh out through your nose. “This…is fucking perfect.”

“Yeah? Honest?” you ask with a twinkle in your eyes at his praise. “I haven’t had the chance to try it myself, but the kids liked it. I’m happy you do, too.”

“Honest. I’d never lie to you, you know that.” The fork makes occasional clinks against the ceramic plate the more he indulges. Caleb didn’t want to ruin the moment by telling you that he hasn’t had a home cooked meal in so long that he couldn’t remember the last time. Since you two separated, he barely cooked for himself because being in the kitchen reminded him too much of all the times you were there with him. It reminded him of all the dinners he made you eat alone, all the times he should’ve been there and wasn’t.

“Wait, you haven’t eaten?” he asks, realization settling in.

You shake your head. “Just never got around to it, but I planned on eating when—”

“Aht, open your mouth.” He puts a generous amount of food on the fork, lifting it up to your lips. “I wouldn’t have let you feed me first if I knew that.”

“You’re so dramatic,” you roll your eyes, looking at the offering with a feeling of inappropriateness at the way he commanded you.

Caleb can’t help his dirty thoughts either as his cock stirs in his pants when your plump lips wrap around the metal he wishes he could switch places with. He has to look back at his food when you lick your lips of any potential residue, refusing to give his dick any false hope.

You were shocked by how good it was, honestly. But you couldn’t bring yourself to stomach anymore because your body was being distracted by a feeling that you’ve come to feel every time Caleb is around you for longer than twenty minutes without fail.

Need.

It wasn’t without difficulty as you tried to engage in conversation with him after he finished up and cleaned the kitchen for you. He put the leftovers away in their respective containers, rolled up his sleeves, and conversed with you while washing the dishes that he refused to let you touch. Soon after when he finished, the water was turned off and he dried his hands.

It was a moment of silence and you took advantage of it to completely analyze him. His soft hair that rested against his brows, his slender nose that you missed tracing, the mouth you’ve kissed too many times as of late, the angular shape of his jaw, his thick neck that you missed licking.

He was perfect. So perfect that the words that fell from your lips scared you despite how right they felt.

“Caleb,” you call to him, making him give you his attention. “I miss you.”

The memory of how he expressed that same thing to you on Christmas Eve causes the man to grow tense. Now that you were admitting it too, there was a sense of being complete that shook him to his core.

“You miss me?” he repeats with a whisper, needing you to say it again so he knows he’s not dreaming. He would hope there wasn’t anything out there to be so cruel to him, but still, he needed confirmation.

You decide that there was no more fear needed, no more trying to keep up walls that he has already knocked down.

You love him—so fucking much. Admitting that to yourself set you free in a way that gives you everlasting peace. There was no point in waiting anymore, no such thing as slow with the way your heart rapidly beat in your chest. You’re sick of trying to prove a point that’s been lost the deeper you’ve fallen for him all over again—sick of feeling guilty for loving him despite everything he put you through.

Like he’s told you before, he has a lifetime with you to correct it all.

“I do.” Your breath is heady as you get closer to him, letting your folded arms drop. You need to be the one to shatter this thin facade of glass that’s been weakened with every encounter.

He studies your face—seeing the longing that matches his own. Your hand comes up to his jaw, cupping his face as your thumb glides across his soft lips. His shakily exhales, becoming putty under your touch.

He holds your hand against his cheek, turning his head just enough to kiss your wrist that has the faint smell of his favorite perfume that he keeps a bottle of. The contact makes your core tingle as he savors your closeness.

“I want it,” you push out, unable to help yourself anymore. Caleb’s eyes flick to you with a swiftness, his throat working to swallow before he can speak. “You. I want you.”

“Where do you want me, baby?” he says lowly, the desire etched into your features unmistakable.

Your eyes flutter, unable to vocalize anything further with the ache in you craving nothing but him in and on you. You meet in the middle, your lips crashing into each other’s as he pulls you in by your waist to keep you flushed against him.

Frenziedly you grab onto him, your hands finding anchor in his hair the harder he kisses you. You whimper into his mouth as he exhales through a moan, his hands sweeping down your back to grab your ass like it’ll merge you together.

The wet sounds of your mouths caressing and your saliva mixing makes your pussy pulse. Impatiently, your hands come to the buttons of his shirt, pulling at them to reveal him to you in a way you haven’t been able to see in far too long. He doesn’t stop you, matching your efforts by tugging on the waistband of your sweats.

“Fuck this,” he mumbles, hastily lifting you up to make your legs wrap around his waist. There was no such thing as heavy when it came to a man like Caleb. It took him zero effort to hold you up as he walked to the bedroom you and he once shared.

As quietly as he can, he shuts the door with his foot then places you down on the bed. Thankful for the light that you’ve always kept on in the bedroom, he can kiss your lips a few more times before he hesitantly separates to lock the door. He’s back on top of you in seconds though, making you fall back into the plush mattress as his shirt is finally pulled down his broad shoulders. It falls somewhere of little importance as he presses gentle kisses along your jaw and down your neck.

“I miss you, too,” he says in between his pecs. “Not a day goes by that I don’t regret what I’ve done.”

Your legs spread wider to let him press deeper, your fingers gliding through his scalp as he pours his heart out. “You’ve always been mine, always been my wife…and ‘m so sorry for taking that for granted. I’m sorry for hurting you—for breaking us. I’m sorry for abandoning you.”

“Caleb…” you cry out softly as he stands. “Please…”

“I know, pretty.” You can’t stop looking at the bulge in his pants and his strong hands that work to undo his belt. “I need to hear you tell me you want my cock... Just once, baby. Please...”

You’ve never been so horny and turned on in your life. You don’t want to just watch him though, so you sit up to help rid him of the rest of his garments. He looks into your eyes as you gaze up at him, your delicate fingers unbuttoning his pants while you nestle your cheek in his hand that tenderly touches your face. Swiftly, you pull them down his strong thighs.

“I want my husband back.” His pupils dilate at the way you claim him. “I want you to fuck me like you used to. Make me feel what it was like to be full of your cock again, Caleb…”

He can’t think straight. His abs ripple with every breath, incapable of waiting any longer and using all his strength to pull you up further into the bed with him after getting his slacks and everything else all the way.

“Tell me you forgive me,” he begs, his voice cracking with emotion at the way your eyes linger on him with so much love. He yanks your sweatpants and your panties down your legs, the sight of your pussy nearly making a fool out of the desperate man.

“I forgave you a long time ago,” you admit.

His body trembles as he goes for your shirt next, your full breasts a sight he’s missed so fucking much when he removes it. He fulfills his selfish desire of tasting you, sucking your hardened nipples into his mouth. You quietly moan, not wanting to be too loud no matter how much you wish you could be.

Your hips buck up, grinding against his clothed erection but feeling every part of him so perfectly despite the thin barrier. He feasts on you like the starved man he’s been at the loss of such bliss for far too long.

“Put it in, please…” you implore. “I can’t…it’s too much…”

He nods into your flesh, his mouth slightly parted as he braces a hand on the side of your head. You assist him in pulling his underwear down, his cock gently making contact with your hot cunt. You both moan at the brief touch, the sight of his precum leaking onto your puffy lips nearly causing him to come without even being inside you yet.

“Look at me when I slide in,” he asks sweetly. “I want your eyes on me.”

You listen, staring into his intense gaze as the head of his cock catches at your tight hole. Your eyes nearly flutter shut, but you heed his command, struggling to keep them open.

“That’s it,” he groans, his hips slowly inching forward. “Fuck, you still take me so well…”

Your back arches off the sheets below you when his entire length fills you, taking everything that is you and making it his.

You can’t stop squeezing him. Your body knew that it missed him as mush as your heart did.

Tears well in your eyes, causing you to sniffle from the overwhelming feeling of it all. Caleb leans down to kiss your eyes, his cock pulsing inside of you as he waits for you to give him the okay.

“Move,” you mewl. “Please…please move…”

Caleb begins by grinding into you before he pulls back almost completely before sinking back inside as your gummy walls suck him in. He starts gaining a consistent pace, trying not to fuck you too fast or he’ll come before you do.

“You’re so tight, hah—fuck…” he breathes, watching how your wetness makes a mess on his cock. Your cunt can’t stop squelching, making a point of telling him how good you feel without a word needing to be uttered from your lips.

He pulls your hands that grab at his back, one by one, placing them beside your head as his fingers glide against your palm before intertwining with yours. Caleb’s memorized by the way your tits jump every time he thrusts into you, his composure faltering with every tight movement within your walls.

Soft plaps of skin become the only sound relevant besides the heavy breathing and slight creaks of the bed.

You’ve been trying to keep your sounds low, but when he reaches deeper into you, his balls slapping against you every time he’s sheathed completely in your heat, you cry out so loud that he has to kiss you to keep you silent—no matter how much he wants to hear it.

Hot tears falls down your face from the pleasure of his hands holding yours so tight, his tongue moving within your mouth, and his cock snuggly moving inside of you.

“I love you,” you weep, feeling your orgasm approach. “Caleb, I love you…”

“Oh, baby…” he grunts, his grinding against your clit. “I love you, too…So much,” he kisses your lips, the quick press wet and messy. “So fucking much…”

You’re crying like a valve has been broken inside of you. You want to be embarrassed but you can’t be, not when he starts to sniffle above you, burying his face in your neck.

“Let me touch you..” you beg. His hands fall away from yours, his forearms bracing on either side of you while your hands tightly grabbing his hair as his onslaught rocks you up and down. It’s not fast enough to be considered rough and not too slow that it frustrates you. Similar to this moment—it’s absolutely perfect.

“Can I come inside?” he whispers meekly, his voice racked with emotion.

“Yes…”

With his hard chest against your tits and your nipples grazing against him, you come so hard that you have to bite his shoulder to suppress your sounds. Caleb does the same to your neck, licking at his bite as his cum starts to flood your womb.

The more you squeeze him, the more his cum leaks out of your hole. He sits up, his cheeks just as wet with tears as yours are.

“I missed this.” He kisses your nose. “I can’t wait to marry you again,” he mumbles.

You smile when he wipes your tears and you do the same for him.

“Neither can I.”

When you stir awake the next morning, you frown to find your bed empty. It’s the faint sound of Caleb’s voice somewhere in the house that relaxes your mind. As you take a deep breath, the memories of last night make you cover your face with a grin so wide that it makes your heart sing.

After the emotional sex, Caleb cleaned you up before sliding into the spot next to you and immediately fell asleep with you tightly wrapped in his arms. You touch your lips as you think about the way he kissed you, your neck in memory of how he breathed and cried into you, down your breasts as if you could still feel the way he sucked on your nipples.

You were so gone for him that you wondered if you’ve fallen harder than the first time you ever did.

After sliding out of the bed, you throw on a fresh shirt and shorts to go see where your man went. You take a peek into your kids’ room before you head downstairs, only to find it empty. It makes you smile at the scene you know you’ll see.

“Daddy, I want a heart pancake!” Blythe pouts loudly.

“I want a dinosaur, daddy!” Jonah adds in.

Soft music plays as you round the corner and you see that Blythe is sitting at the table coloring while Jonah is sitting on the counter beside Caleb, helping his dad cook with pure enthusiasm.

With his back turned, you feel nothing but heat in your stomach at the sweatpants he wears and his strong back he has on display. The domestic scene of him cooking with your babies has you ready to selfishly sneak him away for a few minutes.

After last night, you already know that the both of you are bound to become insatiable.

“Goo’ moring, mommy!” Blythe yells with a wide grin, her dimples similar to her brother who does the same when they notice you.

“We didn’t know daddy spent night!”

“It was a surprise,” you wink at her. “Were you?”

“Was I what?” She tilts her little head just like her dad.

“Surprised.”

“Oh. Mhm!” she nods vigorously. “He’s silly because he tickle my feet when I was sleepin’!”

Caleb turns his head to see you, telling you to come here with a tilt of his head. You walk up to your daughter first, kissing her head. “Daddy is really silly, huh?”

You then approach Jonah to kiss his cheek. “What about you? He tickled you, too?”

“Nope, I beat him up! Can’t get me.”

Your eyes widen in amusement at Jonah flexing as he tries to prove that he beat his dad’s ass.

“He’s violent—just like you,” Caleb jokes and you smack his arm. “See?”

“Sit at the table for me, J.” Caleb gives Jonah a fist bump before he jumps down to sit beside his sister. You look into the pan at the fresh heart pancake he started.

“Artist, huh?”

“I dabble.” His hands sneak around your waist and your hands caress his strong arms. “How’d you sleep?”

“Really good.”

He kisses your lips with a hum. “Good. You hungry?”

“For food and…other things…”

Caleb just smiles, his hand going behind your neck to bring you into a deep kiss. You groan into his mouth, making sure you remain aware that your kids are right there, but they make it known in case you didn’t.

“EW!” Jonah fake vomits.

Blythe laughs at her brother’s exaggeration, her head falling back as she breaks into hysterical laughter. You and Caleb keep kissing, but not without teeth occasionally hitting because you can’t stop laughing.

“Don’t burn her pancake,” he presses several kisses to you. “She won’t be laughing, then.”

“It’ll be your fault.”

“You want it to be.”

He licks his lips. “Sit down so I can feed you. Eggs the same?”

You nod and turn to walk away so you can sit with your kids. He makes a quick move of hitting your ass when he sees that they’re distracted by their crayons and paper again, evoking you to throw back a middle finger. He laughs at you, but in truth—you desperately need him to do that again.

You haven’t heard from Caleb in four days and at first, it scared the shit out of you. Now? You felt like he was avoiding you for a reason you were unaware of.

It’s been two weeks since the first time you made love after all these years, and like you presumed, he and you were all over each other at any given opportunity as if every time could be the last.

Well, with this being the first time in history he’s gone no contact at any point in all the years that you’ve known him, the sex you had four days ago in his car was feeling like the last.

You tried calling him over and over, blew up his phone with text messages, but to no avail. On the second day, you phoned his job, only to learn that he was still regularly coming in. That floored you, made you heart sting with…you refused to make it negative.

Maybe he was busy?

You then called his parents after that and they said they had just spoken to him the first day he went cold turkey on you.

You spent the rest of that night and all of yesterday with nothing but sorrow and anger, every bit of those emotions trickling into today.

The kids were just as confused, but they were easy to convince with a lie that their father had something work related to take care of and that they’d see him soon. You’d never ruin his image in their eyes for any reason, no matter how upset he could make you. But despite all of this, you know Caleb. He would never abandon you or his kids, but the silence, how abrupt it was—you wanted answers.

You honestly couldn’t wonder or try to cultivate anything in your mind, whether it be positive or negative, because none of it made sense.

But it didn’t stop you from feeling insecure, the flicker of being abandoned by him before evoking something nearly violent.

The kids ran to the front door, giggling and ready to begin the typical routine they have after school. Your attempt to unlock the door stopped when your phone rang. You quickly pulled it out, looked at the screen, and hoped to see that stupid red heart you had with Caleb’s name—only to be perplexed because of a number you’ve never seen before.

Dread fueled you. He was fine…right? He had to be fine. As a Colonel, if anything happened to him, it would never be told to you over the phone. Unless he was in the hospital or something. What if..?

You immediately picked up at that realization, and a lady’s voice began to speak.

“Good afternoon, ma’am. On behalf of Colonel Caleb Xia of the Farspace Fleet, he has cordially invited you and your children to the Farspace Annual Celebration.”

Rather than relief, you were fucking furious. He’s been ignoring you and making you think the worst of yourself and of the situation between you both while he’s been getting ready for a damn party?

“What?” you say in disbelief as your children look at you, confused by your sharp tone. “Listen, just…Do you have a way that I can contact him because he won’t answer—”

“I’ve been instructed to simply inform you of the invite and to be ready for the car that will be coming to your home at approximately 7:00 this evening. Dress code is formal and—”

“Where is this being held?”

“Excuse me?”

“The party!” you snap. “Address. What is it?” You were done waiting and playing nice. You were getting something and you were getting it today.

The lady read the address out to you, confirming that it would be at his job as you suspected. It was always a thought to just show up, but you knew there was a whole thing with clearance and you didn’t want the headache, but Caleb has officially made you a walking issue.

Before when he abandoned you, you shut down. You wallowed in pity.

He would have to deal with you this time.

There was not a care in you when you hung up. You weren’t listening to a fucking word anymore. Now a woman on a mission, you corrected your behavior to properly communicate with your children since they didn’t deserve to deal with your emotions.

“Kids, cmon, we’re gonna see grandma and grandpa.” They looked at you with so many questions.

“Is daddy there?” Jonah asked hopefully.

“He’s not, bub,” you got down to his level when he frowned. “But I’m gonna bring him to you, okay? I promise.”

Jonah nodded and Blythe wrapped her little arms around her now sad brother. Caleb’s bullshit was affecting your kids and you wouldn’t have it.

After getting to your parents house, while surprised, of course they were happy to see you.

“Hey, hon,” your mother pressed her cheek to yours. “You okay? You look…”

“Pissed off, your father interjected.

“I can’t talk about it right now, but as soon as I get some answers, I’ll call you. You mind watching them for me, please? I’ll come get them tonight as soon as I can—”

“Woahh, alright, slow down,” your father put his hands on your shoulders when you start speaking faster than your mouth can keep up with. Your mother takes the kids as she sees you getting ready to break down by the quiver in your lip.

“Caleb…” you push out, inhaling sharply in an effort to stay together when your kids are out of earshot. “I haven’t seen him or heard a thing in days, but he’s talking to everyone but me… Just when I thought we were good. I thought we were fixed…”

“And what are you intending to do about that right now that it has you like this?”

“I know where he might be and I need to get over there before I start feeling worse.”

“You want me to come with you?”

You shake your head, needing to confront Caleb on your own without potential judgment and concern about how you’ll react.

“Keep your head steady then, you hear me?” Your dad holding your face in his hands makes you feel like a little girl again. You shakily nod.

“I promised you that I would never let him hurt you again—that no one would ever hurt you the way you did—again. Believe me when I say that it’s a vow I’m keeping.”

You let the heaviness of his words stir in your chest, the intensity of it marinating in its meaning

“I hear you, dad,” you assure him as you pull away. “I gotta go. I’ll call you.”

“Please do. We got Blythe and Jonah.”

After you leave your parents’ home, you’re in front of Farspace’s facility faster than you even expected. You were sure you’d be getting several tickets, but once you dealt with Caleb, he could handle them since he’s the reason you’d have them in the first place.

You would start here since this was closer than Caleb’s apartment building and if he wasn’t here, for his sake, he’d better be home.

You couldn’t find it in you to be strategic, or well thought out. Instead, you got out of your car at the gate, fueled by rage and melancholy.

“Ma’am,” the two guards approached you with assault rifles in their hands. “You cannot be here without the proper authorization. Please state your business.”

“Colonel Caleb Xia,” you say steadily. “Where is he? Is he here?”

“I cannot share such information without the proper identification.”

“I’m his fucking wife!” you yell without thought.

“You need to clam down. I can neither confirm nor deny that statement, ma’am. Not without proper identification and even with it, that doesn’t grant you immediate entry.”

“Are you kidding me right now?” You knew how ridiculous you were being, but how could anyone blame you if they knew what you were going through?

They didn’t though, and that’s what made all of this infinitely more difficult.

“You need to let me in there. I just need to see him if he’s here. I got a phone call about some Farspace event, okay? You don’t understand. It’s important…” Your thoughts are jumbled just as much as your sentences that barely make any sense to the men listening.

One of the guards voices something incoherent in his radio and the other one begins to point his gun at you. “I need you to put your hands above your head until we come to a solution.”

Okay…maybe you should‘ve thought this through a little bit. Because now you were looking down the barrel of something that could take your life if you didn’t watch yourself. As instructed, you place your hands where he told you to, and the other guard walks up to cuff your hands behind your back.

You’re like that for what feels like too long, intimated by the deadly machinery in your face as you’re forced to sit on the curb beside your car.

Caleb was speaking with one of the planners in the space where the event tonight would be held, ensuring everything was as perfect as he’d been planning for weeks. Three men soon rushed into the large room, their voices echoing off the walls as they greeted him with a salute.

“Colonel Xia, sir. There’s a situation at the front gate.”

“What is the situation?”

“An erratic woman, sir. Claiming to be your wife and demanding to be let in.”

Fuck. Fuck.

It’s all Caleb thought because he knew it was you. All the planning he did was going out the window and it was his fault. He knew better, but he thought just maybe…maybe he had a shot at pulling this off, even if you got a little upset with him. He thought it would be worth it in the end, but now you’re at his job and being called erratic.

Ignoring you the last few days was how he’d been able to get everything finalized as efficiently as he has. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have lasted long enough to make it something memorable. None of that mattered though if you were angry enough to be on the hunt for him.

You and him are much too alike.

He didn’t respond to the men who quickly followed him as he strode with purpose to get to you. Suddenly, several pairs of boots could be heard thumping against the gravel, but you refused to turn around—until you hear him.

“Would you care to explain why she is in handcuffs with your gun in her face? Has she not been detained already?”

Caleb.

And he sounds more furious than you did. If you were dealing with the brunt of it, just based on hearing his voice alone, you’d throw up. You turn your head and his eyes meet yours. You’re relieved to still see the love and concern in them. You scowl to make him see how livid you are, though.

“Colonel,” the man lowers his weapon. “This woman was—”

“You were doing your job, and for that, I unfortunately cannot punish you. But should you or anyone else have the audacity to do anything this stupid again, you’ll deal with me and only me. Have I made myself clear, or do you need further understanding?” The way he commands respect and threatens without hesitation is a man you’ve never heard before. “You don’t touch or speak to her unless I’ve instructed you to do so, and should you fail to follow my orders, it’ll be your last day standing.”

Yes, sir!” they say collectively.

“Uncuff her and get the fuck out of my face.”

When your wrists are released, Caleb immediately lifts you and like the baby you always become in his presence, your eyes begin to water. But you don’t let him hold you when he tries.

Your fists start to attack him, the hits not causing the burly man any harm as he stands there in his pristine colonel uniform that you’ve only seen him in once before.

“Days, Caleb!” you scream. “Fucking days! I thought you…” You choke on your sobs, never relenting.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he expressed sadly, his hand encircling your fist that weakly rests on his chest. “I’m sorry…”

“Not a word? You couldn’t tell me, anything!? After every fucking thing we’ve been through? Are you serious? You picked this shit again,” your hands gesture to his uniform. “Over me? Over your family?”

He shuts his eyes, gathering his words. “Never. You know that.”

“Do I…?” you question weakly.

“I should’ve known you wouldn’t just let this happen how I intended. I do still have a lot to learn about you, don’t I?”

You’re so confused that what he’s saying sounds like gibberish.

“Can you just say whatever it is you need to say instead of trying to act like you’re some poet?”

He sighs before he begins explaining himself. “I was distant because I was planning, because I needed time to do everything. I needed to get your parents blessing, to curate tonight’s event that was supposed to be for the fleet—for you, for us.”

“My parents blessing? What are—“

“You supposed to let me finish, pretty,” he smiles gently.

“Well, you’re taking too fucking long!” you throw your hands in the air, making him chuckle as his gloved hand comes up to wipe your stray tears that grow cold on your face.

“I told you I’d never lie to you, so I didn’t want to make you believe anything that wasn’t true. But it was ignorant of me to handle it the way I did when I know what I’ve done to you before. And for that, I’m so sorry.” His heart can breathe a little when he sees you begin to relax. “I don’t have it on me, but even with what I’m about to do now, I’m doing it again tonight in front of everyone and our family—our kids.”

In the barren parking lot, he gets down on one knee.

Your eyes widen, your heart racing as he removes the black leather from his hands so that your skin touches.

“I failed you once, and I nearly did it again, didn’t I?” He kisses your hand. “And yet here you stand, chasing after me with that fire I fall in love with every day of my life. When I lost you the first time, I should’ve never been given the opportunity of a second chance. But it’s because of you and your forgiving heart that I’m here right now—that we’re here. You let me come back into your heart, into your body—you trusted me despite me breaking it after every moment of abandonment and doubt. You’ve got me on my knees, baby and for you, it’s where I’ll stay if it means that you’ll always be right here to hold me—to love me. To be my other half until we’re in the grave. I may not have your ring to slip onto your finger right now, but I’m selfishly asking you if you would make me the happiest man on the planet and marry me, again?”

You can’t speak when you look down at his puppy dog eyes—when you see the water that starts to pool in them while he waits for your answer. All you can do is nod as the burning love in your chest makes you get on your knees, too.

Those raging emotions? Calmed like the day after a destructive hurricane.

You take his face in your soft hands, kissing him deeply and basking in his love when he wraps his arm around your waist.

“Thank you for choosing me, over and over…” he presses his forehead to yours.

“You’re such a dork,” you hiccup, making him laugh that boyish chuckle that you love so much.

“Your dork.”

“My husband…” you breathe.

“My wife.” He brushes his nose against yours.

Having your best friend back like this is a reality you never thought would come. But Caleb never gave up, he never let it be goodbye—even if it felt like it would always be. For that, you will always treasure him and all your love belongs to him as it once did. This time though, nothing could ever be more important than you, him, and your children always being a unit. Everyday that you will spend together will be him proving that to you.

Despite the doubt and the fear, above it all—your love did in fact, win.

A/N: HOLY MOLY. HOW ARE WE FEELING?! WHAT ARE WE THINKING???? This…took me way longer than I thought and I’m kinda scared of what you guys are going to think so I might literally shut my phone down because if you don’t really like it, I may crash out LOLLLL. Whenever the comments start rolling in, we’ll talk about it thereeee. I luv you guys no matter what, though. GIVE IT TO ME STRAIGHT, DOC!!!!

Tags 🏷️ : @innergardentoadpony @teacupwaifu @mcdepressed290 @calebapplepie @xcelfer @honeymoonfleur @obeythebutler @ajyoursgirl @notsurewhattocallthisblog8888 @honeycrispangels @dummiebunny @sucre-princesse @brailsthesmolgurl @klossnite @grlyeetswrld @beesin03 @dramaticalsachan @moonchildjae00 @asiatic-apple @callads7 @caien @stargirlygirl @multisstuff @littledarlingsthings @purpleamethyst25 @lazygelpen @floatinginaer @meadowinthesky @floatinginaer @grackerzzz @nod4mnm3rcyy @loveinorion @ur-l0cal-crypt1d @inutrasha94 @cowaungabungabby @gravity-pilot @nyanahogini @rosiesluv @goochfiddler99 @torturedbabyapple @kiyadeleine @carcelswaifu @blushofeve @camnluv @neptunesbeloved @alyssac9

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love and deespace smut #love and deepspace caleb #caleb x reader #lads x you #lads smut #lads caleb #lads x reader #lads

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flawseer · 6 months ago

Note

Became curious based on a Smaugust piece: What are your thoughts on everyone's favorite royal suck-up, Pike? (also ofc compliments to your writing and art)

Surprise, I am still kicking. And thus my Sisyphean quest to answer all the questions in my inbox continues.

I like Pike. I used to think moderately favorably of him, but pondering this question and then drawing a bunch of pictures of and about him made me realize that, yeah, I am rather fond of him. He is funny and cute in the same way a small, yappy dog is.

I remember once talking to my partner about Pike and I asked: "Do you think the JMA staff has to deal with Pike constantly trying to sleep in the hallway in front of Anemone's room?" Only to then realize, upon re-reading the books, that this actually happens in canon. I was thrilled.

Most of the time when people ask me what I think of a character, they want to hear what my take on them is, so I'll get into that.

Background

I don't think a lot is known about Pike's life, outside him having been assigned as Anemone's (questionably) covert bodyguard. He is one of those background characters that fill out the student roster at JMA but don't get a lot of development, though he is one of the more lucky ones as he gets comparatively more lines and scenes than, say, Barracuda, or Garnet.

We don't ever hear about his home life or familial situation, but I think he comes from a common military family. Not a particularly prestigious one, but rather one of middling significance. I imagine one of his ancestors--like his great grandmother--once made it to captain and ever since the whole family has prided themselves on their military legacy and loyalty to the Seawing throne, even though nobody else really knows who they are.

Pike's parents are both bottom rung palace guards; trusted enough to be stationed vaguely near the seat of government over a remote outpost, but nothing more. As is tradition in their family, they signed up as soon as they were old enough to hold a trident. Pike was expected to follow in their footsteps, and so did the same. He is naturally eager to please, doesn't ask many questions, and knows how to follow orders, so he took to this life relatively well.

One thing immediately apparent when observing Pike is that he is very blunt, headstrong, and reckless. He is prone to self-injury and mishaps, routinely making a tail end of himself during exercises. One day, I imagine, he was out in the courtyard, practicing his combat maneuvers, when he somehow managed to trap himself underneath a training dummy in a humiliating way. Unbeknownst to him, the Queen and Princess were walking past a window overlooking this scene, and the latter happened to spot him.

Princess Anemone, starved for normal social contact due to being permanently leashed to her overbearing mother, immediately took a liking to the clumsy guard and wished to take Pike into her service. The Queen though, hated the idea. Anything she couldn't control with 100% certainty was not to be let near her only living daughter. She didn't even let her own sons approach the Princess for this very reason. So she refused.

But Anemone, sensing an opportunity to finally snatch a tiny mote of control over her own life, didn't relent. She would never overtly defy her mother, but pushed back against her in the most passively aggressive way she could muster. She WOULD have this one thing that was hers, no matter how many times she had to sigh wistfully or forget to eat.

Coral meanwhile still disliked the idea, but after some pondering figured this could work to her advantage. Granting her daughter this favor would make her grateful, and thus easier to keep in check. It was not like the boy would be able to do anything undesirable since she would always be there to watch anyway. And if he ever displeased her, a random guard was easier to dispose of without turning heads, than if she let Anemone play with one of her brothers.

So eventually, she acquiesced, and extracted Pike from the palace guard to assign him to her daughter's protection.

The news hit Pike's family like lightning. Suddenly, after decades of being nobodies with delusions of grandeur, the whole palace was paying genuine attention to them, and the new recruit who, overnight, got assigned to be the Princess' personal retainer. Pike's parents took him aside and impressed on him how important of a task this was. If he did his job well and kept the Princess content and safe, not only would the current Queen think favorably of all of them, but Anemone would remember his service and reward him once she took the throne herself. For his sake and theirs, this was an opportunity not to be squandered.

And thus, Pike shouldered this great responsibility suddenly thrust onto his wings and embraced being Anemone's personal servant and protector. Pushed forward by his sense of honor and loyalty, a desire not to disappoint his family, and the knowledge that, if he were to fail and lose the only heir, Queen Coral would surely kill him.

Day-to-day life

Pike takes his duty very seriously, both out of loyalty to his liege, and because of how much is at stake for him personally. I picture him getting up during the small hours each morning and beginning his daily exercise routine, to stay in shape for his job. His roommate Flame often wakes up to him noisily doing squats in the middle of the sleeping cave and yells at him. "Am I cursed to be tormented by a diminutive idiot Seawing wherever I go!??!" Pike is lucky that his other roommate, Bigtail, is a heavy sleeper. Otherwise the training session would likely be cut short, with Pike tied to the ceiling lamp.

After wrecking Flame's sleep, Pike usually seeks out Anemone and attempts to stay near her at all times. Initially this caused friction between him and the teachers, as he would often skip his own classes to attend Anemone's. He only stopped doing this when Tsunami made it clear skipping classes would get him sent home, and thus away from Anemone permanently.

As they spent time at the Academy, the Princess began to get better and better at giving Pike the slip whenever she got fed up with his overprotectiveness. He freaks out whenever she vanishes, which is often. To help manage his stress, the JMA staff make him attend regular seminars on inner peace and meditation hosted by Fatespeaker. He is not very good at it, but enjoys the exercises that involve listening to running water.

He began to mellow out for a bit after initial growing pains, until the History cave incident occurred. The bombing shook him back into the bodyguard mindset and he began sleeping in the hallway outside of Anemone's sleeping cave. It weirds out Ostrich whenever she has to climb over him. Attempts to get him to stop this have been unfruitful. The current policy seems to be to let him do this until things calm down and he stops on his own.

Anything else

I believe Pike may have a thing for Rainwings. He is generally hyper-aggressive and rude towards everyone he talks to, with two notable exceptions. One of them is Anemone, whom he is sworn to serve and keep safe. The other is Tamarin, whom he is uncharacteristically kind to. My personal impression is that he may have a bit of a crush on her, but keeps himself from pursuing it as to not upset Anemone.

To my knowledge, Pike never really interacts with Turtle. That is a shame, because I would like to know how they would get along. Pike may be greatly disappointed at Turtle's general un-regal-ness, but still begrudgingly respect him out of obligation. I can picture a scene where he berates Turtle for his demeanor, only for someone else to chime in with an affirmative "Yeah Turtle, you suck", upon which Pike turns around and starts ripping into them about disrespecting Seawing royalty.

Concerningly, Pike's future is very uncertain. He is actually in grave danger right now. If Queen Coral ever finds out that he allowed a murderous, seawing-hating ancient wizard to abduct Anemone, she will have some opinions on that. If Coral has one consistent character trait, it is homicidal vengefulness against anyone who fails to protect her children, regardless of circumstance, regardless even if the perpetrator IS one of her children. That means there is a very real chance she will recall Pike from Jade Mountain and try to tear him apart.

I don't think Anemone would allow this to happen, mind you. She has been privy to her mother dragging poor sods out to the plaza to rip their teeth out, enough to recognize the signs of it coming. If she suspected Pike's life was in danger, I believe she would prevent him from leaving.

For now though, he remains at Jade Mountain, doing the best he can with the responsibility he was dealt, acting as Princess Anemone's retainer. It is a difficult, stressful, at times thankless job, but he would not have it any other way.

"Honor, and duty."

#wings of fire #dragon #wof #digital art #wof art #flawseer art #flawseer reply #flawseer talk #wof pike #wof anemone #wof coral #wof seawing #wof headcanon

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scribeofmorpheus · 7 months ago

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Dragon Age Veilguard: Love, Wisdom and Pride

A very long Dragon Age post!

Warnings for: Veilguard Spoilers, Solavellan spoilers.

Okay, so I will preface this by saying that this ‘analysis’ primarily focuses on Solas’ arc; both romanced and unromanced. It isn’t intended to be a romanticised analysis, though it is very much enamoured with how a romanced Solas and his relationship with Lavellan foils (and informs my reading/reception of) that of Solas and Mythal’s relationship in Veilguard. There is a relationship I will address that I feel does parallel Solas and Mythal! Scroll down to “Reading Between the Lines” if you wanna skip my little intro below. Spoilers follow.

Truth be told, I wasn’t ever expecting much in terms of actually getting a sequel to Inquisition. The game dev market went through a tumultuous reshuffle before the remake madness breathed life back into many studios. Bioware game sequels (Mass Effect Andromeda) were underwhelming and not as fleshed out since the EA acquisition. I absolutely believe Bioware would have been shunted had Mass Effect Legendary Edition not been so successful. EA’s reputation was always lacklustre and underhanded, but laying off or losing several head writers attached to Bioware with almost two decades of work under their belts was the biggest red flag. Trevor Morris not being asked to return in exchange for a ‘bigger name’ was also a grave warning that returning to the atmosphere, ambience and world of Thedas that we knew was getting further and further away from a plausible reality. And on top of that, there’s the fact Solas was never intended as a romance interest during early development of Inquisition.

Solavellan seemed doomed!

Despite this, I still held out hope for a sequel, but I feared we’d always be in permanent Solavellan/developmental hell. Heck, I’m still waiting for a Beyond Good and Evil sequel—the game released in 2003! So, actually witnessing people play Veilguard, seeing reactions to it, seeing memes and gifs and essay pieces (like this one), it’s like my community has awoken again, and I never thought I’d see the day. Yet I am not blind to the fact we were robbed of so much potential. I knew thing’s wouldn’t live up to re-emerging expectations when Dragon Age: Dreadwolf was rebranded to Veilguard—the shift seemed to imply less of a primary focus on Solas (and apparently, according to the artbook, the early concept art proves this implication correct).

Things seemed even more dire when the devs revealed there was no tapestry mechanic. I had only one hope: that with the Inquisitor’s confirmed return, we’d get at least some form of catharsis for our Inquisitors (Lavellans and otherwise), if we couldn’t get the conclusions to so many storylines present in each of our worldstates. My main fear was that they’d go the clichéd Ultimate Sacrifice route (which happens anyway, but in a way that makes thematic sense given the stakes and heavily blighted worldstate).

Suffice it to say, there was a lot of evidence that Veilguard would disappoint me in the end. But it hasn’t. It hasn’t lived up to the many expectations and marks of excellence that the Dragon Age world built itself into with the first three entries, that’s for sure, but I am also just so deprived of conclusions, of endings (whether it be because TV doesn’t exist in a sustainable format anymore or that comicbook movies are made with a sequel in mind, never letting anything just “Exit Stage Left” gracefully; or the fact we live in a regurgitating content cycle with late-stage-capitalism where anything remotely profitable gets turned into a caricature of itself: Squid Game, Star Wars, etc.). The cycle is so exhaustive that I am actually at a point where I can say I am content with the ending we were given (on a Solas/Solavellan front), Veilguard gave me relief, and beautiful, achy pain to boot. Though I would absolutely be disappointed by both the "non-romanced Solas" endings, given that Solas winds up either "dying alone, forever" or turns to Tyranny.

Now onto the actual review of that Solavellan ending, Mythal and themes of Love!

Note: I have only gotten the ‘best’ ending in my first playthrough, but I also thought the consequences of not maxing factions would be more… dire? Another note, pls, if your romanced Inky swore to stop Solas, how does that ending differ, if at all? Let me know, I’m dying here!

Sidenote: I’m working on writing another review about my views on the ‘sanitised’ worldstate, the new companions (and why I think Varric was the wrong choice to have as an advisor in the game, given that the Inquisitor or Morrigan would have been more impactful; and not to mention that Cole or Briala should have been companions), removal of the tapestry and what it means for the future of stories in Thedas (The Story We Lost is such a poignant compilation of the sheer volumes of lost lore and depth that I honestly think I won’t go as in-depth on that review as this one), and why I think Veilguard is my final entry into Dragon Age.

Reading Between the Lines: What Pride Hath Wrought

One thing is for sure, Trick Weekes flourishes when writing within the ambiguities and complexities of meaning. This makes every word uttered by Solas so great to dissect, he's a god of lies not because he 'lies' but because he's so careful with how he phrases things, what he holds back, and what he reveals.

For instance, the famous Trespasser exchange where Solas mocks his own follies with sarcasm by saying:

“What is the old Dalish curse? May the Dread Wolf Take you.”

Then a softer, more saddened and beaten-down Lavellan replies:

“And so he did.”

This irks him. Because he then realises in that moment that he absolutely did take advantage, but for some reason he frames it around sex rather than power because that’s easier to address than the latter. And he rejects the notion, even though he brought up the expression he knows to mean nothing close to a sexual inuendo for being ‘taken’, and yet he has the gall to try and derail the conversation by pivoting and saying:

“I would not lay with you under false pretences.”

When I first had this dialogue exchange, I was baffled, because did this mean that there was another meaning to ‘Dread Wolf take you’ that Dalish clans lost through the years, or was it more of a self-deprecating joke Solas had with himself because he, the Dread Wolf, romanced (took) a Dalish Inquisitor (away from her people’s beliefs, histories, past), and he found irony in the saying?

On the surface, “wouldn’t lay with you under false pretences” could simply mean “we didn’t sleep together” or “we did sleep together, but I wasn’t taking advantage as the Dread Wolf, I was simply Solas in your presence”. But I have recently thought of a more… ambiguous reading. Lay could have been used in a milder, more vulnerable way; to mean to be at peace, to be completely vulnerable, as if to sleep. In that sense, the phrasing becomes: “I could not be at peace with you because I was living a half-truth”.

I absolutely think the moment he feels he is truly beyond hope is when we see his expression of abject horror as Lavellan shouts: “I would have had you trust me!”. He realises then that he did fuck up, he did take the choice away from her because he thought he knew better, him and his pride led to a decision that hurt someone close to him, and he could finally see how wrong he was, how alike the entire situation became to Mythal’s treatment of him. Especially if Lavellan asks to go with him. Because he can see that despite the hurt, the lies and the betrayal on his part, Lavellan still wishing to join him draws too close to his first regret: following Mythal.

Whether he likes it or not, Solas’ love which could burn like a bonfire was directed at a powerful woman—a Herald, an Inquisitor—and inspite of her greatness of character, it still shaped her into someone willing to follow him on his dinanshiral out of love, much like he left the Fade and took physical form for Mythal. So now whenever I hear Lavellan shout “Var lath vir suledin”, Solas replying with “I wish it could, Vhenan,” changes drastically with the Mythal reveal, knowing he always walks away from the Inquisitor in Trespasser.

“I wish it could, Vhenan” sounds heavily like: “You would regret me, as I regret Mythal, and I cannot bear for that to happen us.” More poetically, it could read as: “I wish our love could overcome a duty that has lasted an incomprehensible amount of time, I wish I could change my nature, but then I’d be twisted into a demon, like the spirit of Wisdom in the Dales; and yet again, I would become your regret.” These two readings are very, very romantic. Realistically, given what we know of his kinship with Felassan, and how they were comrades and friends for centuries (“A story unfinished. His back turned!”), and given what we know of the complexity of Mythal’s will that presides over the creation of his very being, and yet he was still able to muster the strength to kill a fragment of her to fulfil his mission, “I wish it could” was most probably a lament: “Do not ask me to hurt one of the two women I’ve loved on this journey, because if it ever came to it…” he would.

Knowing what I know of Solas, of how he was able to convince himself that Varric’s death (avoidable as it was) was just another necessary step, that it was just another sacrifice, another loss that would be worth something only if he completed his ritual, I have no doubt that Solas would also be able to rationalise hurting Lavellan (which is why in his mind, turning away from her, breaking her heart, leaving with no explanation and aiding her in Trespasser so she could live whatever few years remained in “relative peace” is actually an act of preserving that love). I partially think the reason he reveals the truth in Trespasser (especially for a romanced Lavellan) is in the hopes his ‘truths’ will push her away. But on a deeper note, I think he also thinks of it as some twisted form of repaying her for loving him to the point that he could have almost forgotten what it was to be the Dread Wolf, to just be with her as Solas, that night at Crestwood. Maybe his harsh truths would push her to the point where she’d give up her love for Solas, now that she knew he was the Dread Wolf, freeing her from the shackles of their love. He’s very self-flagellating, all about self-sacrifice for the ultimate goal, the ends always justify the means, he will endure any pain and punishment as long as Arlathan returns in the end.

What is his love of a mortal compared to the despair and loss of an entire empire? Solas views himself as selfish for falling for her, and that nearly broke him, if he was selfish enough to leave the dream of Arlathan behind for her, what would that do to his spirit then?

In his way of thinking, perhaps telling the Inquisitor the truth is a way out, a rationale they can use to justify stopping him or to make it easier to hate him as the Dread Wolf rather than love him as Solas (someone he hasn’t been in so long).

‘Masking’ as the Dread Wolf

During Trespasser, the Inquisitor has every right to despise Solas after all they’ve learned, and I think he half reveals the truth as a tactic so the Inquisitor can have an excuse to hate him, to be driven to anger and have less pull over his choices, once they learn the truth. Solas is particularly skilled at making other’s play the role that makes his own choices seem inevitable, he orchestrates a lot of events to play out in a manner where it's easier for him to talk himself into bringing down the veil.

He goads Elgar’nan to anger easily. He inspires the spirits to fight for him to the death as a necessary distraction during the war. He absolutely allows the Inquisitor to speak to him one last time so he can offer insight, yes, but also so he can easily frame his actions as just and inevitable. But, Oh boy does he get in for a shock if the Inquisitor shows empathy towards him, it scares him because he’s become accustomed to being seen only as the Dread Wolf. To be understood? That gives way to remorse. And remorse gives way to doubt. And he cannot doubt his purpose, twisted as it is, it is all he has left of his former self. Without it he would most likely change into something different. Someone he doesn’t recognise.

This fear intensifies more so if a romanced Lavellan asks to go with him, and in that case, he takes command and distances himself away (rejecting the help of someone close to him; the chance for a possible betrayal; the chance at another Felassan or Mythal [x]; the chance to twist Lavellan outside of her purpose, in this case, the purpose would be love/empathy) but not without showing remorse at having sacrificed yet another relationship for his crusade.

“Ir abelas.”

Sorrow for what cannot be is at the heart of why the Solavellan romance is so powerful, especially because even though both Solas and Lavellan love each other passionately, love alone cannot be enough when faced with regrets. Love would ultimately be stifled. Corrupted into something else over time. And so, for Solas, having loved and lost tragically is better than having loved and corrupted.

He will not do to Lavellan what was done to him, even if it is her choice, because she knows so little, her naivete cannot close the distance of a millenia’s old sea, and it would hurt him immensely to take advantage of her kind heart [x].

By leaving, he keeps her heart pure. And the yearning! Knowing the love is there, but on its own it cannot be invulnerable to corruption, so it is better to lose it than twist it. Ugh! Him leaving Lavellan is the ultimate show of love! IT IS A WISE DECISION. A rare glimpse into pure wisdom. Which is why he kneels beside Lavellan in Trespasser, he does not “Stand Tall” in the face of Wisdom’s heart. He kneels beside her. And when he stands tall again, he is Solas once more, filled with regret, and once through the eluvian, he returns to masking as the Dread Wolf.

Sidenote: It’s especially confounding that Veilguard allows Rook to push the Inquisitor to save or stop him after you’ve reached act 2 despite your world state choice (I think this was done in case they feared the Inquisitor wouldn’t stand by Solas after everything he was revealed to be responsible for in Veilguard, however it doesn’t work because the Inquisitor wasn’t an advisor, Rook never told them what they learned from the wolf statues, so having a stranger hold the ability to make Lavellan keep her promise or not rings hollow). Personally, I wish the Inquisitor’s presence had more weight in the non-Solavellan endings, too. I wish the Inquisitor could end up being the last friend/former love that Solas destroys (if you don’t collect the wolf statues) which then prompts Rook to fight him because Solas’ last tie to empathy failed to redeem him, that the Inquisitor falling is the last straw and Solas snaps, choosing to be a villain in the hopes of being stopped because he can’t stop himself, and not the ‘I am a God’ ending they gave us. Same for if your Inquisitor vows to stop him. I also wish the Inquisitor was the one to do the wolf statue missions. Would have been a nice secondary protagonist mission like the switching perspectives between Kratos and Atreus in GOW: Ragnarök (the old guard and the new; Inquisitor and Rook). I would have loved if they dedicated more dialogue to Inquisition days too, which is why I think Cole should have been a companion (if he wasn’t recruited, he could simply be a compassion spirit that ‘follows’ the greatest pain in the Fade that yearns to be healed, giving a compassionate viewpoint to Solas’ folly; recruited Spirit Cole could have a greater connection to Solas than even Varric, seeing as Cole was most likely a literal representation of Solas rewriting his own history by preventing a spirit from becoming too ‘real’; Human Cole would have a deeper connection to the world of Thedas, and could have been a great tool to prove how change was inevitable, not always a bad thing, and inevitably out of even Solas’ control. But alas, we live with what we are given! Even Imshael could have served in this role! Spirit/Demon of choice and it wasn’t incorporated into the game that supposedly asks you to make the greatest world-changing choice ever; redeem the Dread Wolf or end the age of the Evanuris entirely?!

Now onto the next segment: I want to talk about Solas’ regrets and how I read the ‘love story’ between Solas and Mythal, and why Lavellan (and what she represented) wasn’t enough to get through to him (and that’s a very believable thing, that’s what makes their love both tragic and epic!).

The High Price of Redemption

A romanced Lavellan has the most agency to see through his guises, if she resolves to save him, but even she cannot undo the shackles that still bind him to Mythal—the binds that twisted Wisdom so far from its purpose it became Pride, even when he burned (Mythal) from his face. (Likewise, A close friend Inquisitor who promises to save him is most likely a parallel to Felassan, again, they cannot undo the shackles of regret either.) I fully believe the vallaslin had a deeper magic than simply marking one as being committed/devoted to an Evanuris, I think it linked them magically, and since Solas was the first to burn the vallaslin away, he probably wasn’t as good at severing the link on himself as he was for other elvhen, so maybe a part of Mythal’s will still lingers in him, twisting him to Pride still.

In Veilguard’s final confrontation, I love the intention of showing how Lavellan approaches Solas slowly, as she doesn’t know who she’ll be faced with up those steps, Dread Wolf or Solas. But when she speaks to him, trying to get him to change his mind yet again, forgiving him for his wrongs, we are reassured that Wisdom hasn’t been completely consumed by Pride despite everything we’ve witnessed in the game because he bows his head at her in reverence as he apologises.

He shows humility towards her. He elevates her and her enduring love as worthy of his respect, but he does not consider himself worthy of hers. Thus, Lavellan pries open the door to acceptance but his heart is still not enough. Which is why love alone cannot turn the tide. He’s too broken to accept it. He doesn’t think he deserves it, so the only way out is through; to continue the ritual, to prove he was right. The shackles persist. Varric’s death weighs on his conscience now more than ever. Possibly members of Rook’s team too if they died on his crusade. But he is vulnerable enough for Morrigan to approach, and now Rook can use Mythal’s essence to make the final push. The only way he could be with Lavellan, the only way he could atone for the past and shed the weight of his armour (his crushing duty to the Elvhenan) is as Wisdom, fully restored, unbound by mistakes.

“Ar lasa mala revas.” He could only find absolution once Mythal (the angered and more brash essence of Mythal, the one unchanged by Flemeth and all the human women’s lives she’s been shaped by, but the closest iteration to that of Mythal in Arlathan, the version that he perceives as having every right to be angry at him for turning his back on her, for not going that last final stretch with her and subsequently, not being by her side when she died) severed the final connection: facing his regrets, showing humility and apologizing, while not taking away the blame but sharing it.

What is Benevolence without Wisdom if not Hubris?

We know Elgar’nan was twisted to Tyranny during the war, and I saw a post somewhere where someone wondered what led to his corruption, and what he was before (leadership/command). Likewise, Mythal was not above corruption.

So far, I’ve seen a lot of takes on Solas’ ties to Mythal, the power dynamic of being a student/disciple enamoured (could be romantic) with the benevolence of Mythal, but not how Mythal’s purpose was possibly also twisted towards hubris the moment she asked Wisdom to turn physical and build weapons from its knowledge, twisting it to Pride. Without Elgar’nan’s tyranny to rally against after the war with the Titans, Mythal would most likely turn a similar route, seeing her ruling as “necessary” for the people: “If not me then who?”. And that is a very short stop and quick drop to “I am your all-powerful ruler, I liberated you, and only I can guide the way”. Benevolence twisted by hubris can easily turn to Tyranny too, only one more subtle, a kind of cultish indoctrination compared to violent subjugation. If Solas had not turned his back on Mythal when she chose to be Evanuris (a god over her people) then they most likely would have made the worst (best) pair in the Evanuris. Pride is the Seventh Deadliest Sin. But imagine Pride next to Godhood?! That is frightening. So, when Solas burns the vallaslin, walks away and works against the Evanuris, I believe that he also inadvertently stops Mythal from becoming a corrupted version of herself. The sorrow at having lost her closest confidant and “love” grounds her, keeps her saintly in Solas’ mind, and in some ways, perhaps saves the Elvhen empire from a worse fate than him erecting the veil to begin with. But neither of them ever consider this. And I think that sort of self-blindness perfectly encapsulates how flawed both Mythal and Solas are. Now onto love.

Solas and Mythal – a Love too complex to simply classify as mortal ‘Love’.

There’s no doubt Mythal and Solas shared a deep bond, one that definitely had love in it, when we hear Mythal calling him ‘love’, without the possessive ‘my’ in front of it, it’s easy to misconstrue what type of love they share. A small nitpick, but like a thorn, it applies sometimes just enough pressure to change a perspective. Not calling Solas “My love” but instead choosing to simply use “love” works within those wonderful ambiguities/complexities that Weekes thrives in.

If one started out as a spirit, it’s safe to say concepts like familial bonds, romantic bonds, and blood ties mean little to nothing. There is no one type of love and there is every kind of love all at once. It is only once physical bodies are introduced, that physical touch, the ability to stab someone in the back, to kiss out of affection, to hug out of empathy, to strike out of anger, that love now becomes this twisted thing too. There are no spirits of love because spirits always possessed love, but there are demons of Desire (Gluttony) and of Rage (love denied).

I believe, from GDL’s acting skills, his soft whisper, his almost submissive smallness in the breadth of Mythal’s already soft voice, that Solas was in love with Mythal, devoted as a student, beguiled by her benevolence, content even in her shadow, and possibly star-struck. He was in love with someone who doesn’t have the possibility to love him back the same, it is not in her nature to love those beneath her in the same intensity that those who look up to her do. It’s like a priest being in love with God. The priest can devote themselves, sacrifice everything, but a God will always love their flock equally, but they can still play favourites.

Benevolence cannot be enamoured with Wisdom because to be truly benevolent they must possess Wisdom but there is also Pride to be had in walking beside benevolence, but they can never be on equal footing. Likewise, Solas’ love is not reciprocated entirely by Mythal, but she does love him back in her own way. While Mythal is definetly Solas’ first love, layered and complex, it is also strangled by regrets and twisted by uneven scales of power. It would never be a nurturing love, only a consuming kind.

When he speaks of Mythal during the Solavellan ending, he calls her his “oldest friend”, much like what Mythal says, (paraphrasing) “would you have me be angry at my oldest companion whose experienced so much with me”. Because friendship is perhaps the easiest way to describe their companionship. They went through many iterations, one certainly holding romantic tensions (specifically from younger Solas), but ultimately, with that much time shared, kinship/friendship becomes the easiest to surmise. You can love your friends, fall in love with them, fall out of love with them, only to love them again, be disappointed in them, etc.

Media today is flushed with romance as a linchpin for driving a hero to make dire choices, and that has warped our perception of how a platonic/non-romance-based relationship can be all-consuming, and sometimes more impassioned than strict romance. But, to make it easier for people to understand Solas’ motivations, it's easier to see their love in the light Taash sees it (an unreliable, somewhat “still juvenile” narrator, in that they are still growing into themselves and their culture and the world): “They were doing it”.

However, Bellara, a companion whose entire companion story is linked to her strong, deeply character-driving relationship with her brother (platonic love) refutes that reading by saying (paraphrasing here): “We don’t know if their ‘love’ is the same type of love we tend to think of in a masculine and feminine relationship.”

Felassan’s letter after the Mythal Dragon fight alludes to Solas having been in love with Mythal, but nothing about how she felt. This is why I consider the Solas/Mythal relationship to be more of a one-sided romantic love, but a requited ‘love’ relationship for them both.

A parallel I find so compelling: Solas and Mythal vs Briala and Celene. Solas and Briala both hold deep emotions for people in great power with the ability to end a tyrannical cycle of subjugation, enslavement and classism, yet for both of these ruler’s charisma and well-meaning intent, they often are swayed to side with tyranny. For Mythal, that was Elgarnan, the Evanuris who made all the other’s worse tyrants; as well as her own hubris for believing her presence alone could dampen the ravenous hunger for power that the rest of the Evanuris held at the small prospect of leading the Elvhen in a time of confusion (being a North Star is hard when all the other lights around you aim to blind the flock into submission). For Celene, this is more about the nuances of retaining favour, pull and power over other noble families, their backing (be it financial, political or simply cut-throat), and their support so she can be the ‘lesser of two evils’ compared to Gaspard’s warmongering personality and Florianne simply being a puppet with no backbone. Both Briala and Solas are turned to pawns despite their immense strength and compassion for their respective elven plights; Briala is rendered a fangless lion (for lack of a better metaphor) if she is reunited with Celene, whereas if she is chosen to puppet Gaspard, there’s every likelihood her story could parallel a ‘power-mad’ Solas if he’d been tethered to Rage (at betrayal) and not Regret (at having not rejected Mythal when she asked him to take a physical body) throughout his tenure as the Dread Wolf.

Solas and Lavellan – a Heart that was never intended to be Given/Taken

Now I will compare the lack of possessives in front of Mythal’s “love” to Solas declaring Lavellan as ‘Vhenan’ and then ‘Ar lath, ma Vhenan’ vs ‘Ar lath ma vhenan'; again, the coma is the thorn, the pause that shapes the quiet unsaid things we can deduce. In the Trespasser cutscene DGL puts the pause after “Ar lath”, even though the subtitles construct the sentence with Vhenan as a proper noun since it’s a nickname often used by Solas: “Ar lath ma, Vhenan”. But I believe Solas actually says “Ar lath, ma Vhenan”.

With “Ar lath, ma Vhenan” the stressor is after the pause, so the line reads: “I love [you], my heart.” And with “Ar lath ma, Vhenan” it makes even less structural sense but can be inferred to mean: “I love you, Heart”.

The possessiveness of “My” is what definitively differentiates the love Solas feels for Lavellan as one more of the romantic side, it is a love of yearning and desire and a wish to have one last good thing that is pure and incorruptible. The one thing he had left to give. His heart. But that does not mean his heart is enough! The rest of him is still bound to the love of Mythal that was twisted through the ages. That changed him. And given how Pride often comes before a fall, I absolutely understand why Solas is actually very brash and ill-considering when he’s romancing Lavellan (“The kiss was ill-considered”/”It would be kinder in the long run”/”I wanted to show you what you mean to me”). He's on a precarious cliff during Inquisition. His first plan failed. He's allowed ancient elvhen magic to fall into a blighted Tevinter magister's hands. Literally everything the Inquisition did could have been for nought if the Mark had fallen to the wrong person. Things could have easily fallen apart for Solas too, so why not indulge in something trifling and fleeting? Execpt it wasn't trifling. Nor was it fleeting. And when he saw that the fall could potentially not happen, that the Inquisitor could do it, save Thedas and retrieve the orb, he was struck by the gravity of his brashness, of letting impulses control him instead of acting according to a plan. But it was too late. They'd both fallen for each other.

Solas didn’t expect to form entanglements within the Inquisition. He was committed. He was angry at the world, “walking through a sea of tranquil”, called flat-ear by the Dalish that later chased him from their village when he proved he was the Dread Wolf. He was despised by people who looked like him. Spirits were constantly being abused and turned into demons. People erected monuments to heroes who slew demons. Mages were caged. Elves were subjugated. The empire fell. Humans razed the lands with their wars and petty squabbles of succession. The darkspawn tainted the land. The dwarves would never dream. Solas awoke to the worst possible fate; in his eyes, it was all his fault.

So when he kisses Lavellan in the Fade, impulsively, he isn’t kissing her there because it is less ‘real’ than if they kissed while she was awake, it makes it so much more real. He’s kissing her in the space where he is most himself. Where he can shed the body he was forced to build and trap himself within, the body of Pride. He is acting on the impulses of an enlivened Wisdom spirit that does not consider tomorrow, for the first time in a long time. It isn’t a long game with Lavellan, like so much of his life has been about always thinking to the future, always considering the outcome, machinating, scheming, the wiles and woes of every trickster god in mythology. It’s being in the moment with her that is all-consuming. It lowers his guard, leaves him vulnerable, and when she enquires about the Fade or spirits or histories, he gets to be useful as pure Wisdom again.

Lavellan challenging him when he first shows animosity or irritation towards the Dalish (a prideful act), and then him being taken aback when she explains that maybe the Dalish could be shown another way (making him consider her words, being given a morsel of wisdom back, reminding him of his old self), these are all small moments where Solas can begin to see springs of hope in the broken world. And that’s terrifying. It means he’s destroying not just himself, but the memory of Mythal and Arlathan too, all for the love of a woman who fell for an apostate.

The best, most genuine unmasking of Solas for me is during Wicked Hearts, when he’s tipsy on wine, has no inhibitions, and revels in the intrigue, the gossip, the dancing, the music (something we now know is important enough to have an entire music room in the Lighthouse), the sex! He is at his most relaxed, and then he asks Lavellan to dance, not caring about how it would look for the “Inquisitor’s serving man, Solas” to be intimate in a fucking Orlesian palace with the Herald of Andraste, right after stopping an assassination attempt! He finds comfort in the world of Thedas at that moment. Something he rarely shows so outright.

When he takes Lavellan to Crestwood to confess, I believe removing her vallaslin wasn’t entirely just for her, it wasn’t just to free her from slave markings or to simply reveal a form of a truth he wanted to tell her, it was to resolve himself of what his first purpose was supposed to be, what she distracted him from. Removing the vallaslin had been something he’d done for the slaves of Arlathan, it was what earned him the mantle of Dread Wolf. When he removes Lavellan’s vallaslin, he resets.

Thedas cannot allow Wisdom to truly exist without fear of corruption to Pride, Thedas the world he was responsible for shaping, literally the Maker of the Veil, and he falls for a woman Heralded as Andraste’s Chosen One, Mythal’s incarnation in the South. The irony. The cruel, cruel irony. The Inquisition is tied to his past, every Andrastian he meets, every Dalish person with vallaslin on their face, every slave or city elf. Tevinter worshiping the dragons that still have the essences of the Old Gods. His heart alone cannot withstand all of the punishing, gruelling, oppressive weight that is Thedas. Even for Lavellan. So he frames their romance as this tragic, short-lived tale that was beautiful but ultimately destined to end. He expects it to pass for her, she’s mortal after all. But he also leaves his heart with her, literally giving her power over the last uncorrupted part of himself. Think Will Turner and Elizabeth Swann at the end of World’s End, but metaphorically. He gives her his heart to safe keep as he goes on a journey that could corrupt a heart, turn it cold and bitter, destroy it.

Ar lasa mala revas. You are free.

He frees his heart.

Lets it go.

Twice!

So only once he is relinquished of his regrets, once Mythal does the same for him, only then is there “Nothing left except their love”. Because Lavellan still held his heart there was still something left after. Something beyond despair and regret and loss. He had given his heart to her to safekeep. And she did. Lavellan returns his heart to him when he is freed. What Mythal had to break so Solas could heal right again (like a bone), Lavellan casts a splint around so it can be set and heal properly. This is the difference between Mythal’s love and Lavellan’s. Both Mythal’s love and forgiveness broke him, but Lavellan’s love gives him the strength to Stand Tall one last time.

Solas, before Pride alone, as Wisdom (perhaps Solas always meant both Standing Tall and Wisdom, for Wisdom can grant one pride to stand tall for what they believe in), finds contentment with the rare and marvellous spirit that endured (his Vhenan). Wisdom endured because of humanity, something benevolence is beyond.

Bellanaris

When Lavellan offers to go with him, to continue on the dinanshiral that she already considers herself a part of, Solas is legitimately taken aback. His expression is soft yet full of disbelief and awe. He actually stops walking a few frames before Lavellan says this, as if hoping Lavellan would say something to him!

And then she basically proposes to him! “Bellanaris!” I absolutely adore the fact that Lavellan promises them eternity. A vow as sacred as a death right, as protected as an ancient, elvhen, undisturbed burial ground in the face of Orlesian colonialisation. They endured and now they will have an eternity. For once, we have an elvish tale that is not a curse, it is a love story with reunion at its core, where both elves reclaim something precious that was denied them.

Lastly, i am absolutely frothing at the mouth that Solas and Lavellan primarily speak in elvish! And even more feral at the fact Solas does not try to talk her out of joining him (because this sweet talker very well could!). He simply tells her where he is going is terrible. And she shuts that shit down immediately. No repeat of Trespasser. She's standing beside him, the South has all but fallen, whatever ties yet survive are strained, and she has fought the good fight for 8 years. I think the Inquisitor was about ready to leave Thedas behind.

The last decisions Solas makes are of his own volition. Entering the Fade for atonement. Stepping into the Fade with Lavellan (It was confirmed by Weekes that Lavellan’s presence in the Fade prison would fundamentally change it in a way we haven’t seen!). Thanking Rook for giving him one last shot at getting happiness. All his own!

This is the look of a man finally reunited with his wife! So much emotion in ONE frame. God! There’s never been a character like him. A love story like theirs! I’m so happy I got to see this ending. Full circle!

P.S. If you read this far, woah nelly! That’s crayyzeee, so here are some more great pieces: Why it was important for Lavellan to kneel for Solas as he knelt for her in Trespasser in the Solavellan ending [x], and here’s a great deep-dive on Solas as a spirit of Wisdom [x].

#dav #dav spoilers #solas #solas x lavellan #solavellan #mythal #datv spoilers #dragon age veilguard #veilguard spoilers #dragon age #dragon age veilguard spoilers #the dread wolf finally took her #his war has ended #their love may endure for eternity

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biteyu · 3 days ago

Text

WHEN I ★ kissed the teacher.

　　　　　 𝒐𝒇────박성훈 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍

꒰𓏼 ◞ ◟ 𓏼， ⠀ 박성훈 × 𝑓!rea ✶ age gap (legal) tension teacher!성훈 student!reader petnames pussy eating unprotected sex─── 2O5O ⠀⠀🗡️

rb 𓂋 𝟰𝗔 𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦

NEW SCHOOL YEAR, new teacher. your previous teacher had quit due to undisclosed reasons, not like you cared anyway.

but professor park was… different.

not in the sense that he gave off a bad vibe—no, not even remotely close. in fact, it was quite the opposite.

you weren’t sure when it started—

maybe it was the first time he said your name in class. like it tasted good.

maybe it was the time his hand brushed yours when he handed back your essay and lingered a beat too long.

or maybe it was just the way he was. tall, articulate, self-contained. his shirts were always crisp, his words always measured. even when he made jokes—subtle, dry ones—he barely smiled, and yet somehow, it made your stomach turn.

professor park sunghoon was composed to a fault. he never raised his voice. never lost control.

and you wanted so, so badly to be the thing that made him lose it.

you didn’t plan to develop a crush. you really didn’t.

but you found yourself sitting closer to the front.

found yourself rereading all the books he assigned, just to see them the way he did.

found yourself watching the way his fingers tapped the podium when he thought.

how he licked his lower lip mid-sentence.

how he said things like “that’s a good question,” when no one even asked anything.

you laughed too much when he made a dry joke.

you always had a pen ready when he glanced around the room for someone to write on the board.

you caught yourself staring. a lot.

“you’re so obvious,” your friend whispered one day in class.

you kicked her under the desk.

she wasn’t wrong, though.

he knew.

or at least, you were sure he did.

he always met your eyes when he spoke.

he always asked for your thoughts, even when your hand wasn’t raised.

and he always—always—paused when handing your papers back. like he was reading you, not your grade.

one afternoon, when you stayed behind to ask about the final paper, he let the silence stretch too long after answering.

you swore he looked at your mouth.

just for a second.

and when you said, too quickly, “okay, thank you,” and turned to go—

his voice stopped you.

“you don’t have to rush out, you know.”

your breath caught.

but when you turned around, he was already scribbling something into his notebook, as if he hadn’t said anything strange at all.

weeks passed.

your crush only got worse.

you started dreaming about him.

once, you woke up sweating, heart racing, because in the dream he’d pulled you into his office and kissed you so hard you thought you’d pass out.

when he leaned over your desk in real life the next morning, voice soft as he asked, “everything alright?”

you almost cried.

you weren’t alright.

you were far from it.

it was a rainy wednesday when it all slipped out.

class ended early. people were filing out. you were halfway to the door when his voice cut through the low murmur of students:

“miss l/n, could I see you for a moment?”

your heart dropped straight through the floor.

you turned slowly. he gestured toward the front.

he didn’t look angry. or even particularly concerned. just… unreadable.

you stood in front of his desk, hands clasped.

“is something wrong?”

he looked at you for a long moment.

then:

“i’ve noticed you’ve been… distracted.”

your stomach flipped.

“i—i didn’t mean to be,” you stammered.

“i believe you.”

he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back slightly against the desk.

“but it’s not like you. your essays are strong, but your focus in class…” he trailed off. “i can tell something’s on your mind.”

you tried to smile. it came out shaky.

“just… a lot of things.”

he tilted his head. “personal?”

you hesitated.

and he saw it. the pause. the shift in your breathing.

“you can be honest with me.”

don’t, you thought. don’t say that. don’t be kind.

you felt your eyes burn.

you were so tired of pretending.

so you just said it.

soft, terrified:

“i have a crush on you.”

you heard it echo in the quiet.

he stilled. completely.

you didn’t look at him. couldn’t.

your face burned.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered quickly. “i shouldn’t have said that. i don’t know why i—”

“stop.”

his voice wasn’t cold. it wasn’t anything like what you expected.

you looked up.

his expression was unreadable, but his eyes—his eyes were dark.

not angry. not disgusted.

focused.

“you’re not in trouble,” he said. “but you understand… this puts me in a very difficult position.”

you nodded, swallowing hard.

“i know.”

a pause.

he sighed, glanced away, then back at you.

“you’re… not the first student to get attached. it happens.”

ouch.

but then—

“you are, however, the first one who’s made me think twice.”

your breath caught.

his jaw clenched like he regretted saying it out loud.

he pushed off the desk, walked a slow circle behind it, then sat.

elbows on the arms of his chair. fingers steepled.

studying you.

“i don’t want to hurt you,” he said finally. “or lead you on. but i don’t want to lie to you, either.”

your knees felt weak.

“…so what are you saying?”

he looked at you like he was waging a war with himself.

“i’m saying that after finals, when grades are in and you’re no longer my student…”

a breath.

“…maybe we can talk about what this is. properly.”

the silence that followed was charged. dangerous.

you blinked, heart racing.

and for the first time ever, professor park sunghoon smiled.

just a little.

“but until then,” he added, clearing his throat as he straightened a stack of papers, “i suggest you focus on your essay.”

you left the room with your chest burning and your heart lodged in your throat.

his office door shuts behind you with a soft click,

but everything inside you slams shut—tight, aching, locked in your chest—because this is really happening.

finals are over. your grades are in.

you’re not his student anymore.

sunghoon leans against his desk with a tired sigh, running a hand through his hair. he looks exhausted—crumpled blouse, tie loosened like he’s just come down from hours of restraint. glasses low on his nose, eyes fixed on you like a threat.

“you’re nervous,” he says, watching the way you hover by the door.

you shake your head. “a little.”

he nods. “me too.”

and then he pushes off the desk.

crosses the room in three slow steps.

his hand reaches up, brushes your cheek. thumb drags the corner of your mouth, like he’s remembering every time he almost did it before.

“you still want this?”

“i do,” you breathe.

and that’s all it takes.

the way he kisses you isn’t soft or careful—it’s months of held-back want, suddenly torn open.

his lips crash into yours, hands cupping your face with a kind of reverence that breaks the second you moan into his mouth.

then he’s grabbing your waist, dragging you forward, pressing you against the door so hard it rattles in the frame.

your fingers knot in his blouse, tugging, untucking—he’s so warm, so solid, and when he groans low against your mouth, it lights a fuse down your spine.

his glasses tilt crooked on his face, and when you reach to pull them off, he catches your wrist midair and kisses your palm, slow and devastating.

“been thinking about this since midterms,” he whispers into your skin. “you ruined me, coming to class in those tight skirts, answering questions like you didn’t know what you were doing.”

“i didn’t,” you gasp, letting him back you toward the desk. “i just wanted you to look at me.”

he growls—actually growls—and you’re suddenly lifted, set right on the edge of his desk as he steps between your knees.

his mouth crashes back to yours, more bruising now.

you’re gasping, tilting your chin to keep up with him, tugging at his undone tie until he’s so close it’s dizzying.

his hands are everywhere—hips, thighs, up your back—and you swear you’ll lose your mind if he doesn’t touch you where you need.

but he slows, breath ragged, forehead pressing to yours.

“you don’t know what you do to me,” he says, voice wrecked.

you bite your lip.

“then show me.”

he doesn’t hesitate.

hands gripping the back of your thighs, he yanks you to the edge of his desk until you’re nearly falling off into his arms.

his mouth crashes to your neck, kissing hard—teeth grazing, tongue dragging, hands spreading you open with no patience left.

“fucking—wanted this,” he mutters into your skin, lips trailing to your collarbone, blouse already half unbuttoned. “wanted you—since the first time you argued with me in class.”

you whimper, fingers in his hair, tugging when he sinks lower.

his hands push your skirt up, eyes going dark when he sees the thin strip of lace underneath.

“you wore this for me?”

you nod, dazed. “knew i was coming here.”

he swears under his breath, drops to his knees without another word.

his hands spread your thighs over the desk, and then his mouth is on you—licking through the damp fabric like he’s been starving for this exact taste.

your hips jerk and he groans against you, peeling your panties aside and diving back in, tongue flat and hot, dragging through your folds until you’re crying out.

“you’re dripping,” he mutters, voice ruined. “fuck, baby… you’re perfect.”

you can’t breathe.

you can’t think.

his mouth is everywhere—tongue flicking your clit, lips sucking around it, fingers slipping into you deep, curling like he’s memorized your body already.

your hands fly to his hair, clutching, grinding into his face.

“sunghoon—please, please, don’t stop—”

his eyes flick up, and the sight of you—shirt open, flushed, spread out on his desk, wrecked because of him—makes his control snap.

he stands suddenly, pulling you down from the desk and spinning you around, chest to wood.

you gasp, still shaking from the edge he left you on, and then you hear the click of his belt.

“tell me you want this,” he growls, cock pressed between your thighs now, bare and thick and leaking.

you nod, frantic.

“yes—want it so bad—been thinking about it for months—”

he groans, one hand fisting in your hair, the other gripping your hip as he slides into you in one hard stroke.

you cry out, eyes rolling back—he’s big, and you’re soaked, and the stretch makes you delirious.

he gives you no time to adjust, hips snapping into yours, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing off the bookshelves and walls.

“this what you wanted?” he grits out, pounding into you, desk creaking beneath your body.

you nod, whimpering.

“yes, yes—wanted you, wanted this—”

he fucks you harder, faster, groaning low as he slams into you.

“you think i didn’t notice?”

his voice is rough in your ear.

“those short little skirts. sitting in the front row. smiling at me like you didn’t know what you were doing.”

you sob out a laugh, back arching under him.

“i knew.”

“of course you did.”

his hand slips between your legs, fingers rubbing your clit while he fucks you through it—so deep, so good, your whole body tightens.

you’re so close—vision swimming, mouth falling open.

“sunghoon—gonna cum—please—”

“then cum for me.”

he kisses your neck, breath hot and wrecked.

“cum all over my cock, sweetheart. let me feel you lose it.”

and you do—clenching around him so hard he curses, body spasming with your orgasm, stars bursting behind your eyes.

he doesn’t last long after that.

just a few more brutal thrusts before he buries himself deep, groaning your name as he spills inside you, hips stuttering against your ass.

you both stay like that—panting, slick with sweat, hearts thudding.

he finally pulls back, gently, then lifts you into his arms like he’s afraid you’ll fall.

sets you on the edge of the desk again, presses his forehead to yours.

“was that worth the wait?” he asks, breathless.

you nod, still high.

“better than i imagined.”

he smirks, brushing your hair back.

“good.”

then he kisses you again, soft this time.

“because i’m not done with you yet.”

✿ : first post ◜ ᴗ ◝

#ㅤ ㅤ 　.　 archive ♩#enhypen #enhypen smut #park sunghoon #sunghoon #sunghoon smut

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prodagustd · 2 months ago

Text

the road not taken 07 | myg

part seven: old wounds

Summary: You really, really tried to ignore Yoongi. But once again, you failed.

—pairing: lawyer!yoongi x actress!oc

—rating: +18

—genre: brother's best friend, one sided pinning (or both?), slow burn

—warnings/tags: slow burn, angst, fluff.

—words: 9.7k

—a/note: hi friends!! can't even begin to describe the amount of mental breakdowns i had writing this but here is it!! i doubted myself too many times before posting this one (still am), idk why it was so hard to finish but i'm glad it's here, i hope you enjoy and as always, you're welcomed to discuss this part in the asks!!

series masterlist | teaser | playlist

Present

It was such a mistake to even insinuate that the years that had passed had made you wiser, or that the hurt and heartbreak had made you stronger, more decisive, or less stubborn. If anything, you continued to make the same mistakes, you were ten times more sensitive and you had developed a level of stubbornness that was almost impossible to shake. You had spent years consumed by bitterness, only to learn nothing from it, and still, you wanted to trust yourself and stop doubting every decision you made, but it was hard considering you were the same person who led yourself here.

A few days ago, when Minnie said she just wanted to show you a few ideas to help The Alley, what she really meant was that she had already mapped out a full schedule for you long before you even knew what was going on. You assumed she might want your help with organizing things—selling tickets on movie nights to show your face for a few seconds and draw in more people, painting a few walls, or changing some light bulbs—but you couldn’t have been more wrong.

As she turned the pages of her diary, you tried to make sense of every word she was saying, remaining silent as you patiently waited for her to finish so you could finally get a chance to speak.

“You want me to direct the end-of-year play?” you asked, needing to confirm what she had just said. “In only three months?”

Your redhead friend slowly nodded, looking you straight in the eye as if she just hadn’t gone completely crazy.

“That’s plenty of time.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “You and I both know that’s not remotely—that’s not even half the time I would need.”

Minnie rolled her eyes and stood up, walking over to the large board behind her. It was a chaotic collage of crumpled pieces of paper, faded photographs, and yellowed old letters, all pinned in a disorganized frenzy that seemed to mirror the whirlwind of her thoughts.

“Bullshit. You’re like… Broadway trained or something. You’re the only person who can pull it off.”

You sit back against the chair, sighing. You wanted to help Minnie, not only because she was your best friend but because this was the place you grew up in. Yet, despite your best intentions, a wave of overwhelm crept in, making it hard to ignore. Deep down, or maybe not so deep down, you knew that the time wouldn’t be a problem, that directing was one of your secret passions and wouldn't be a burden at all, but the real problem was that you still didn’t feel prepared to show your face around.

Here was the catch: you couldn’t say no. You knew Minnie, you could make thousands of excuses and she would find a solution for each one of them, so you had two options: say yes right away, or say no until she finally made you say yes.

“And it’s an original play, you say? Written by one of the kids?” You asked, already knowing which option would be easier.

“Yes...” She replied softly. “You know, like the ones you used to write when you were a kid…”

You tried not to roll your eyes. Classic Minnie, guilt-tripping you until you had no choice but to agree.

You chuckled bitterly, suddenly remembering that six months ago, you had told your therapist that you were asking for an opportunity like this—a chance to redeem yourself, something close to a miracle. Yet now, with it right in front of you, you were hesitant to take it. You had to suppress the urge to call her without notice to ask her opinion about everything. Agnes, who always seemed to be at the end of her patience with your self-sabotaging tendencies, would be sitting in her office back in the city, she would pick up your call and tell you that this could be the perfect chance to reconnect—not only with your hometown and your friends but with your old self as well. She would say this was exactly why you had decided to come back home, and you would’ve hated hearing it. You would’ve hated admitting she might be right.

You straightened up, trying to look serious. “Let me read it first,” you said. “Then we can talk about it.”

“Mmmm… I have a better proposition.” She argued, “You read it and start tomorrow.”

“You’re kidding,” You replied, incredulous.

She clapped her hands, sealing the deal with a finality that made it clear she wasn’t joking. “Of course I’m not. We can’t afford to waste time,” she said matter-of-factly. “We need to call the kids, arrange the theater—which, by the way, is under maintenance, but that won’t be an issue. The lights will be fixed by morning, and you can start in the afternoon. And oh, you’ll need to…”

“Minnie!” You yelled, making her stop abruptly “Stop talking and give me a second, Christ…”

Your friend nodded, a bit embarrassed of her sudden excitement. She sat back in her chair, quietly observing you as you tried to make up a plan in your head.

“Okay, I’ll read the play tonight, and tomorrow morning I would need to talk with the person who wrote it. Then, we’ll see if we start in the afternoon.” You stated. She nodded in contentment, but you knew she was holding back. “C’mon, don’t look at me like that…”

“Like what?” She huffed.

“Like a lost puppy.” You rolled your eyes “I said I will help, right?”

“You said that, yes…” She trailed off “But I don’t want you to just help, you know? If it’s not too much to ask, I would like you to put your heart to it.”

You chuckled, knowing that she meant every word. “I know that.”

“Well, I hope you do.” She sighed “These kids… they were so disappointed when they found out we couldn’t pay the last teacher anymore. It’s not just about the play, it’s about everything, this place is like a second home. Hell, for most of them it’s like the first one… I just want to make it count.”

Minnie looked at you like she could read every thought in your mind.

“I know.” You said, feeling like a fourteen year old all over again “I understand.”

“I know you do.” She nodded, smiling with her eyes. “Of course you do.”

You couldn’t fully believe in fate. Or in irony, or the universe having some big plan, and yet when you finished reading the script for the play you thought it was written just to fuck with you.

The play was about some girl, June, growing up in The Alley as she tried to find herself. That was the story, that was the big dramatic theme of the play you somehow agreed to direct. How groundbreaking, how deeply, earth-shattering not cliché. And still, something about it got under your skin. Not exactly in a bad way, it felt… familiar. The kind of familiarity that made you shift in your seat, like when someone says something uncomfortably true about you, but you couldn’t argue because they were right.

The whole who am I, where do I belong thing—hasn’t that been done a million times before? Haven’t you seen it, loved it, run away from it? Maybe that’s why it bothered you. Because it was too easy to see yourself in it.

Not that you’d admit that.

That Saturday morning you were meeting Harriet, the writer of the play that gave you nightmares last night, to discuss the script, offer a few pointers, and try to organize the first rehearsal. You exhaled sharply, it was just a play, nothing more. You tried not to overthink it, but Minnie thought otherwise.

“So?” Minnie asked as she organized her bag. You looked up to her from your coffee, sitting at the end of her table. “Did you like the play?”

You shrugged, with eyes barely open. “It’s good.”

Minnie narrowed her eyes, sitting next to you. “Good?” She snorted, “C’mon, you liked it.”

“Sure, I liked it,” you said, taking a sip of your coffee. “The dialogue’s good, the pacing is solid. It’s relatable, I guess.”

“Mhm…” Minnie drummed her fingers lightly against the edge of the table. She was quiet for a beat, clearly waiting for you to say more. When you didn’t, she tilted her head, smirking like she knew exactly where this was going. “You don’t see it, then?”

You raised an eyebrow. “See what?”

“Yourself?”

God. Of course.

Here we go again. You should’ve known better than to think you’d get through a full conversation without her dragging you into some self-reflection trap.

You let out a soft scoff, lowering your cup. “What do you mean?”

“You do see it.” Minnie grinned, all too satisfied. “It’s like a therapy session in script format.”

You rolled your eyes. “An angsty teenager who’s angry at the world, fighting her way into adulthood? Isn’t that the story of every single kid in that place?” You said, recalling the script—though you refused to admit it sounded a little too familiar.

“No, not like this,” she insisted. “It’s different. It reminded me of you.”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. “You always say that.”

“Because every time I say it, it’s true,” she replied, unbothered. “You know I know you like the back of my hand, right? Inside and out. You can’t hide anything from me.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Well, I know you too—and right now, I know you’re being very, very annoying.”

Minnie rolled her eyes so dramatically it made you laugh.

“You really don’t see it?” she asked again, gentler this time.

You looked away, pretending to be way too interested in the last sip of your coffee. “I see a lot of things,” you said, vaguely.

She let out a quiet breath through her nose, like she wanted to keep poking but decided against it.

“Fine.” She sighed, finally letting it go—for now—as she stood up and grabbed her empty mug. “You’re meeting Harriet today, right?”

You nodded.

“Don’t be mean to her.”

“I’m never mean.”

“You terrify people.”

“Only the weak,” you replied, standing as well. “And if she’s anything like me, she’ll be fine.”

The hallway to the main theater was dim, almost dark. Anyone walking in for the first time might assume it was just another maintenance issue—one of the many The Alley was always plagued with—but you knew better. It had always been like this. The lights flickered sometimes, the floor creaked in all the right places, and the smell of paint never really left the walls.

Cork boards lined the walls, cluttered with wrinkled flyers and announcements for local events. Above them, big framed photos of past theater productions hung in no particular order—some crooked, most dusty. No one ever fixed them, but they had their charm.

The place was still quiet and empty, almost peaceful. Only your footsteps echoed softly as you walked, your script folded under one arm. Minnie was beside you, phone in one hand, her second coffee of the day in the other, talking nonstop about everything she had to deal with before noon.

“…and we’re out of paper towels again, and someone stole the good extension cord, so now I’m down to that weird one from the lost and found that sparks if you look at it wrong. Also, we’re probably getting fined if we don’t fix the exit sign by Friday, and—”

You let her talk. It helped you focus. Or, at least, pretend you were focusing.

Minnie knew you like no other person, but still couldn’t remember one core fact of your existence: you were not, by any stretch of the imagination, a morning person.

And today, it turned out, that wasn’t the only thing she forgot.

You were just approaching the theater doors, head slightly bowed, mentally rehearsing the day ahead, when you heard it.

A low laugh, soft and achingly familiar.

You turned your head slowly, as if giving yourself time to be wrong. But of course you weren’t.

Because somehow, Minnie forgot to tell you that the person handling repairs today was none other than Yoongi.

Your eyes moved on instinct. You didn’t mean to look—you just did. And there he was.

The man in question was perched on a ladder, with his sleeves rolled up and a screwdriver in hand fixing a reflector, while a tall boy held it steady, laughing as he jokingly threatened to shake it. A flicker of irritation sparked in your chest. Of course he was the one handling the repairs, of course Minnie casually forgot to mention that to you.

You turned around to shoot your friend a threatening look, but she just pushed you forward, forcing you to keep walking.

You made your way towards the center of the room, trying not to pay attention to the scene, but as the sounds of your steps filled the room. You didn’t have to look to know both of them had stopped laughing. You didn’t have to guess to feel their eyes following you across the stage like the past itself had stepped into the room and sat down beside them.

“Good morning guys.” Minnie said, dropping her bags on one of the seats. “My friend right here is going to help us with the play this morning. I think you know her, Jungkook?”

You turned around just in time to see the boy abandon the ladder and bolt towards you at full speed, while Yoongi, left stranded at the top, clung to it, visibly irritated.

He murmured something under his breath, too quiet to catch, but your attention had already shifted to Jungkook, who was practically vibrating with excitement as he extended a tattooed hand toward you.

“Oh—yeah, of course! Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” He blurted, voice a little too eager.

You couldn’t help but smile as you shook his hand.

“Jungkook is a big fan, by the way,” Minnie added casually, completely unfazed by the way his face turned an alarming shade of red.

“Well, thanks. Pleased to meet you, too,” you said, amused. “Are you fixing the stage lights today, Jungkook?”

Jungkook froze for a second, his eyes widening slightly—stunned that you knew his name, as if he hadn’t just heard Minnie say it two seconds ago.

“Well—not me,” he managed to stammer. “I mean—yes! Me. And… Yoongi. He’s, uh, kind of the boss around here.”

Your smile didn’t drop, but you raised your eyebrows in surprise. You glance towards the ladder again, watching Yoongi descend like he had all the time in the world. You looked at him, and for the shortest of seconds, he looked at you too.

“Is he?” You asked, turning to your friend for some kind of explanation.

Minnie shook her head, don’t start, she wanted to say, but it was too late. You’ve already started.

“Just the boss of him, maybe.” appearing beside Jungkook and giving him a pat on the back maybe a little too hard.

Something burned inside your chest, but you were not supposed to be mad anymore. You were not supposed to be angry, you were supposed to be a functioning adult, a mature person who was able to let things go and act accordingly, but without fail, every time you were in front of him you felt like a kid throwing a tantrum all over again.

“I must’ve been gone for too long.” You said, nonchalantly. “I didn’t know you were the one calling the shots now.”

It was encrypted in your code, you weren’t used to biting your tongue, it was stronger than you. You told yourself you didn’t want anything to do with Yoongi, but you still desperately needed to know what was he doing here, what was that tied him to this place when he didn’t even know its name a few years ago.

The room suddenly fell silent and you knew it was your fault but you couldn’t find the will to regret it.

He locked eyes with you, there was a hard weight on his gaze, but it gave nothing away, like a locked door with no key, totally indecipherable.

“I’m not.” He simply said. If what you wanted was an explanation, you weren’t going to get it. “I’m just helping around.” His words hung in the air for a moment, met with a brief silence.

Minnie cleared her throat, interrupting the hostile staring competition you and Yoongi were having. “Yoongi and Jungkook are helping with the stage lights, but they are missing a few guys today.” She carefully mentioned, her eyes going from Yoongi to you and back. “So they are going to take more time than usual.”

“I can work in the other room, if you’d like.” You offered, looking at Jungkook.

“No!” Jungkook was quick to say “That won’t be necessary, I mean—we won’t be a problem at all.”

“Really?” You said “I mean, I could. What would the boss say?”

Yoongi turned to you then, and you could tell he knew exactly what you were doing. The corner of his mouth twitched, not quite a smirk, not quite a frown, just the ghost of something caught between amusement and exasperation.

He exhaled quietly, like he was reminding himself not to be annoyed, because it was you. “You know it’s okay.” He said, his voice smooth, but you caught the tiniest flicker in his eyes, that slight tension in his shoulders.

After all these years, that connection between you still remained, woven into the spaces between words, into the way you could read each other with nothing but a glance. You could still have silent conversation in crowded rooms just by looking at each other, it was not a surprise, but it pissed you off anyway.

“Let’s get to work, then,” You muttered, sharper than intended. You didn’t look at him, but you knew he’d heard everything you didn’t say.

Last week you wouldn’t have expected to end up right here, in the middle of the stage of The Alley as you were waiting for some sixteen year old to pitch you her story, and yet, you were there. The goal for today was almost too simple to fulfill, the only obstacle was that it required all the patience you knew you never had, but you were willing to try.

The sound of the door swinging open let you know that the day started. Suddenly, Minnie and a girl who you thought to be Harriet stepped into the room. You recognized who she was immediately, wrapped in a big baby blue puffer jacket, a long purple skirt brushing against her ankles and a red hat over her dark curls,—she was impossible to mistake.

Despite the bright color and the glowing description of her that Minnie gave you earlier, Harriet kept her eyes down as she listened to your friend speak beside her, only glancing up briefly when Yoongi and Jungkook greeted her. She mumbled a quick hello, then scanned the room—until her gaze landed on you.

Her shoulders tensed the moment her eyes met yours, but she didn’t hesitate. Adjusting the strap of her bag, she followed your friend as she walked towards the stage with steady steps.

“Well, hello girls.” You got down from your seat to greet her, offering a smile. “You must be Harriet.”

Harriet nodded. “Hi,” she said quickly, like it slipped out before she had time to overthink it.

“Harriet, this is your very cool, very last-minute new director slash teacher. Sweetie, this is your brilliant teen-playwright.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Brilliant, huh?”

Harriet gave Minnie a look. “You’re embarrassing me.”

Minnie rolled her eyes, as though she was used to this kind of teen behavior.

“I’m only telling the truth,” she huffed. “We all read the script.”

You turned your attention back to Harriet, smiling as you gestured towards the desk. “I read it too. Last night, actually. I hope you don’t mind that I’m a bit unprepared. I got the job yesterday.”

Harriet shook her head quickly. “Oh no, of course not. I mean—I wasn’t expecting anyone to take over. I thought we’d just… I don’t know, keep going until the roof collapsed.”

You let out a short laugh. “That still might happen.”

“I wouldn’t even be mad,” she said, tucking a curl behind her ear. “It’d be on theme.”

“C’mon, no roof is going to collapse today.” Minnie waved off. “We have the boys on our side.”

You took a quick look towards the back of the room, where Jungkook was halfway up the ladder, the screwdriver in one hand and a sandwich clamped between his teeth like a man with very specific priorities. Yoongi stood below, holding the toolbox open, glancing between the manual in his hand and the wires poking out of the wall. He looked focused, but the slight frown on his face gave away how confused he was.

“Well, that’s exactly why I’m afraid.” You reached for the script, handing it back to her. If the roof was going to collapse, or the electricity was going to cut out, it wasn’t going to be because of you. You were seventy percent sure of that. “I scribbled a bunch of notes in the margins like a true professional. We can talk through them during rehearsal.”

“Oh, I love margin notes.” She said, her eyes sparkling as she saw your handwriting on the pages. “Especially the brutally honest kind.”

“Oh, you’re gonna love me, then.”

Minnie perched on the edge of the stage, watching the two of you with a smug expression that screamed told you so without having to say a word. You still refused to see how you and the girl next to you were anything alike. At first glance, Harriet’s personality came through loud and clear—her clothes were colorful, her tone enthusiastic, and her writing nothing like yours had been back in the day. You used to dress in black from head to toe and only talked to people when absolutely necessary. The only thing you seemed to have in common was your love for this place.

“Minnie told me you’re like… a purebred Alley or something like that.” You joked, giving her a small grin. “It shows, I think.”

“Really?” she asked, her eyes catching the dim light of the barely functioning reflectors.

You nodded “You wrote about this place like someone who grew up here.” You said “It’s been a while since I’ve been around, but I can recognize it. It’s not something you make up.”

A small smile tugged at Harriet’s lips. “I didn’t have to make it up.”

“I could tell,” you said, glancing around. “I’m from… a completely different generation, but when I come back, I can tell that things are still the same.” Suddenly, a loud clang echoed through the room as a heavy tool hit the floor, making you flinch. You looked up to see Yoongi mouthing a dramatic “Sorry.”

Harriet laughed under her breath, shaking her head. “Well—maybe most things, at least,” you added, raising an eyebrow. “What I mean is that… It’s important to say that, right? The years passed but the place has the same heart.”

“That’s exactly what I wanted to say.” She nodded, like you just read her mind. “I know it’s all kind of falling apart,” she said, her eyes sweeping over the dim lights and creaky walls, “but it still feels like the only place that ever made sense.”

That made your heart clench. You had your chance to run away forever and you took it without thinking twice, but for people like Harriet, there only existed places like The Alley, and the idea that it could disappear was gut wrenching.

“I know.” You murmured, glancing at the seats in front of you, replaying memories you tried to forget so many times. “It’s like this place gets into your blood or something.”

There was a quiet beat, both of you sitting in that shared understanding.

Then Harriet added, voice a little softer, “That’s why I wrote it. The play, I mean. It was just… my way of trying to keep it alive. Even if it’s just a story.”

You glanced over at her, your fingers drumming lightly on the edge of the script. “You did more than that. You captured the heart of it. That’s not easy.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she held your gaze. “Thanks. That means a lot, coming from you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Me?”

Harriet let out a soft, slightly nervous laugh. “Well, Minnie talks about you like you are linked to this place, but you know… like, you’re spiritually bonded or something. Everybody kind of knows that.”

You blinked. Not expecting that. Not at all.

Maybe you were. There was a time where you felt it more than ever, back when you spent your afternoons in this building instead of studying for exams you never cared about, back when the air smelled like incense and acrylic paint and some band played the same Beatles song over and over again in the other room, interrupting all your theater classes. The feeling clinging in your bones, your hand holding onto it like it was about to slip away.

But you left, more than once. First, you trade it for the chance of becoming someone else. You failed at that. Came back here, got your heart shattered and left again. And yet somehow, every time you drifted, The Alley stayed the same. Waiting.

You weren’t sure if that made you loyal or pathetic. Maybe both.

You didn’t come back for this place, you weren’t even thinking of stepping foot here. You came back because you had nowhere else to go, because you needed something familiar to put you up on your feet and snap out of everything. But maybe this place knew better than you did. Maybe it was always supposed to pull you home.

You sighed, feeling your chest tightened. “Like I said, it gets into your blood.” You sat back, holding the script in your hands. It was too early to think about all that. You tried to shake off all those thoughts, remembering why you were there in the first place. “But let’s not get dramatic, at least not more than necessary. I got tricked into directing your play.”

Harriet grinned. “Still counts.”

You let out a breath, shaking your head fondly as you flipped open the script again. There wasn’t time to sit in feelings. Not when you had a job to do.

“Alright,” you said, your tone shifting into something drier. “Let’s talk about the notes.”

“Yeah, right,” she said, nodding. “Shoot.”

There was a brief silence, just long enough for Harriet to hold her breath and for you to find the right page. The air shifted—calm, but expectant. “Your protagonist is stubborn as hell,” you said, not bothering to sugarcoat it. “Which I respect, totally. But the pacing in the second act drags.”

Harriet blinked. “I—I was trying to show her spiraling.”

“There are other ways to show her spiraling.” You tapped the script, flipping to your notes. “Don’t write her like she’s in a coma. You had her throwing punches in Act One, then suddenly she’s trying to hold back.”

Harriet frowned, thoughtful now. “Huh. Yeah. Okay. That makes sense.”

You caught Minnie smirking from the corner of your eye, clearly enjoying herself.

“For example,” you continued, pointing at a line, “this monologue? I liked it. She’s trying to save The Alley, she’s emotional and messy—she should stay that way the whole play, even if she’s overthinking. But in the next four pages, you wrote her like she’s afraid to raise her voice.”

“She’s not afraid,” Harriet said quickly. “She just—she masks it. Like she doesn’t want people to know how much she cares.”

You tilted your head. “Alright now, does she care or she does not? Let’s make up our minds.”

Minnie snorted.

Harriet looked around like she was hoping someone else might answer for her. Her pupils flicked nervously. “I guess… she does.”

“Exactly. So should she try to mask it?”

She bit her lip, then shook her head. “I guess she shouldn’t.”

“Okay, let’s keep her that way.” You nodded, flipping through the pages again. “Write the ugly. The parts that don’t fit into a speech. You’re sixteen, not a board of directors. Don’t try to be polite in art. You’ll bore people to death.”

Harriet nodded, eyes shining a little brighter now. “That’s really good advice.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you said, clicking your pen shut. “Most days I’m a bitch, that’s what I’ve heard of.”

You heard a squeaky sound coming from seats, catching both of your attentions. You tilted your head to look at your best friend, trying not to laugh too loud. You adjusted your reading glasses to look at her better. “Don’t you have work to do, Minnie?”

She smiled, not ashamed at all. “Yeah, I do, but this is more exciting.” She confessed “You two are opposite ends of the same storm. This should be fun.”

Your gaze drifted back to Harriet, and just for a second, you saw it—something in her that echoed back to you. Maybe you weren’t so different after all.

There was no need to point out that everyone in your life seemed to know exactly how to avoid setting you off. Like when you were a kid and Simon handed you the TV remote just before you started screaming, or when Ian knew the exact moment to agree with you in the middle of a discussion—right before your frown appeared. It was like an unspoken rule: when you were mad, hell broke loose. And Yoongi knew it better than anyone.

Which was probably why he’d barely said a word since the morning started.

The room wasn’t particularly big, but his presence, sticking to the far side like there was some invisible line between you, made it feel that way. You were focused on other things now, but the memories this room held were almost palpable and impossible to miss, at least to you. There, in the center of the room, stood the same two chairs you’d sat in when Yoongi invited you to the Christmas movie night. You couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same. It was a twisted thought—one of those you’d buried long ago and forbidden from resurfacing—but this time, you couldn’t stop it. You couldn’t help but wonder if, when he looked at the seats or stepped onto the stage, when he walked through the hallway or passed the room next door, he caught even the faintest echo of the memory of his fingertips against your skin.

You knew it was silly, and there was no point in even thinking about it, but something sparked in your chest when you did.

You shook your head, annoyed with yourself. Thinking like that was dangerous. It didn’t matter. It was in the past. But still—how could he be here and not think of you?

You let out a heavy sigh, knowing you couldn’t do anything about it. Either way, he was here, and that was enough to keep your irritation on a slow burn.

Lucky for you, you had enough things to do to keep yourself entertained, it wasn’t long before your actual appointment arrived.

One by one, then in pairs, then all at once, exactly fourteen teenagers trickled into the room, dragging backpacks and half-eaten snacks, tossing jackets onto the backs of chairs like they owned the place. Within minutes, the room was a mess of voices and overlapping conversations.

You stayed seated at the desk Jungkook had kindly set up onstage so you could work more comfortably, going over notes in the script with Harriet and letting the noise build around you. You didn’t know exactly what Minnie had told them to get them to come back to rehearsals, but the fact that no one seemed to notice you yet led you to believe she hadn’t mentioned your name at all.

“Wait, is that—”

You didn’t look up right away, but you felt the shift in the room, the quiet whispers. Then, someone dropped their water bottle, the loud metallic sound echoing through the room.

Someone else whispered “No way,” in the most dramatic whisper known to man.

Harriet sighed beside you, muttering under her breath as she tried to contain her excitement “Here we go.”

You glance up from the script. “Are we all ready?” You asked, making a few of them share glances between each other, stunned. Setting the script down, you stood up from your seat. “Hi, by the way. I’m Y/N. Minnie’s friend.”

There was a short pause before the room exploded in whispers again.

“Wait, seriously?”

“That’s her?”

“Dude. She’s literally famous.”

“No way.”

You felt the weight of their stares all at once—curious, excited, wide-eyed. It wasn’t the worst kind of attention, but it still made your skin crawl a little.

You cleared your throat. “For those who don’t know me, I’m an actress. You might’ve seen me in one or two movies. Or—more recently—on the internet, for entirely different reasons. It’s been... a fun week.”

That got a few chuckles. Someone covered their mouth, like they weren’t sure if they were allowed to laugh.

“I grew up around here. Born and raised. Went to school a few blocks away, smoked my first cigarette in the park across the street—decided pretty fast that wasn’t for me.” You gave a small shrug. “I also used to take theater classes in this exact room. A long time ago... or maybe not that long ago. Honestly, it kind of feels like time never passed at all.”

Your eyes swept the space, a faint smirk tugging at your lips. “That’s how I met Minnie, actually. She’s been my best friend ever since.”

You leaned against the desk. “So when she asked if I could do her a favor and step in to help direct this thing, I said yes. Mostly because she’s annoyingly persuasive. But also… because I owe this place a lot.”

You rubbed the back of your neck. “So no, I’m not here to give some big inspirational speech or anything. I don’t want this to be more dramatic than it’s already gonna be. I heard it’s been kind of rough around here lately, and I wanted to help.”

You gave a small shrug. “I’ve always loved this place—and I’m guessing you do too. I know what it’s like to start with nothing. No time, no budget, too many opinions. I’ve been in this room. And hey, if we’re lucky, we might actually make something cool.”

You paused, the silence stretching just enough to make you aware of all the pair of eyes looking at you, expectantly, like they were waiting for you to say something to make all of this sense. God this was awkward. You hated introductions.

Just as you were about to move on, a boy sitting cross-legged near the corner raised his hand hesitantly.

“Uh—sorry. I was just wondering… is this, like, for a documentary or something?”

You blinked at him, caught off guard “A documentary?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. You’re famous, and now you’re here, so I thought maybe there were cameras or—like, a redemption arc thing?”

A few kids laughed nervously. You stared at him for a beat.

“Okay, first of all, if this is a redemption arc, someone forgot to write a better opening scene.” That got a few chuckles. “Second of all, there are no cameras. And there will not be cameras either, so if any of you leak behind-the-scenes footage of me yelling at the lighting cues, I will sue you.”

The room broke into laughter. The boy held up his hands in surrender.

Then, a girl piped up from the back. “So… you’re really staying?”

You looked around at their faces and let out a breath that felt more like a decision than an answer.

You nodded. “Yes. So stop asking before I change my mind.”

A beat passed.

Then you clapped your hands once. “Alright. Let’s do something terrible before it gets good.” You turned to Harriet and handed her the script. “You’re on book duty. Anyone needs a line, go to her.”

Harriet gave you a look like she was trying very hard not to smile.

Soon enough, the whole room was in chaos. Kids dragging chairs across the floor, bumping into each other, laughing too loud, slipping into exaggerated accents for no reason.

The cast had been picked, most of them by Harriet who ran the auditions just before everything turned into a mess a few weeks ago. They more or less knew the script, at least the parts they were in. It wasn’t a full read-through kind of day anyway. You were mostly blocking a few key scenes, trying to see who could remember their lines under pressure and who needed their cues whispered from behind a prop table.

Someone tried entering from the wrong side of the stage, again. Two kids were arguing about the new Wicked movie. A pair of best friends were giggling so hard in the background that you had to separate them like a school teacher.

You were trying to give notes in between all of it—shouting directions, answering five questions at once, adjusting someone's posture, trying not to lose your mind when the stage lights began flickering, or when the sound of the mic started to cut out.

You sighed, knowing that you were the one who agreed to work in the same room as Yoongi. And yet, here you were, one lighting fixture away from snapping.

Yoongi was still on that damn ladder, this time closer to the stage, adjusting wires like he had all the time in the world, tossing instructions down to Jungkook, who was elbow-deep in the breaker box near the exit. They weren’t trying to interrupt rehearsal—but they were interrupting rehearsal.

You and Harriet were talking to Theo and Poly, who’d been cast as Ethan—June’s best friend and love interest—and June herself. Theo hadn’t stopped asking questions about his character since rehearsal started, and Poly just stood there, frowning at each one of them.

“So,” Theo said, squinting at his script like it held ancient secrets, “is Ethan supposed to represent the building? Or is the building a metaphor for Ethan?”

Poly pursed her lips. “I don’t think that’s…”

You blinked. “Uh…”

Harriet jumped in before you could finish. “I think the building represents June, actually,” she said thoughtfully. “And everything inside it kind of symbolizes parts of her. Including Ethan.”

You nodded slowly, doing your best not to sound confused. “Yeah. That’s… exactly what I was going to say.”

“But what if Ethan is the building? Like, metaphorically. But also kind of spiritually.”

You paused, wondering how he came up with that thought at all. “Theo...”

He perked up like you were about to confirm his theory.

“You’re not a building,” you said, deadpan. “You’re just a boy who likes a girl who is a building. Emotionally.”

Harriet nodded, hoping everything was clearer now, but the frown on Theo’s face said otherwise. “How is she… a building?” He asked.

You opened your mouth to answer, but then, the harsh whine of a drill tore through the room, sharp enough to make a few kids flinch.

Your head snapped towards the back, where Yoongi was crouched by the lighting rig, focused on screwing something into a wooden panel. Oblivious. Or pretending to be.

You forced a smile, teeth clenched. “Love that for us,” you muttered.

Yoongi didn’t look up.

You reminded yourself that you agreed to work in the same room as him, but you still couldn’t find it in yourself not to complain.

He finally glanced over, one brow raised. “Just fixing the lights.”

“Sure,” you muttered, trying to regain control of the room. “Maybe next time, though, you could fix the sound system while you’re at it. You know, keep things interesting.”

The kids snickered nervously, clearly unsure whether to laugh or stay out of it.

Yoongi gave a small, unreadable smile, “That’s next.”

You blinked, then raised an eyebrow. “Great. Just give me a heads-up before you demolish the stage—we would love to watch the show.” You heard a couple kids laughing under their breaths, but Yoongi just smirked and came back to drilling. “Okay, where were we? Right, Theo, June is bonded with the building, they have many similarities...”

You managed to move on, with the help of Harriet, who tried to explain how June and The Alley had similar stories to everyone in the cast so she wouldn’t answer the same questions over and over again.

For a moment, it worked. The rehearsal went slow but chaotic, but it was nothing that you weren’t expecting. The line delivery was still bad, cues were missed and someone kept knocking over a prop chair no matter how many times you moved it out of the way. The sound glitched every now and then, cutting off halfway through a cue, making someone lose their timing, most probably Theo. The lights kept flickering, but you told yourself it was alright.

There was something about it that made your heart warm. The kids were messy, overly passionate, but they were trying, and that counted for something. Harriet hovered by your side, notebook in hand, whispering little adjustments to you between scenes. You corrected blocking, gave line notes and reassured Poly when she forgot her monologue. It was the kind of chaos that made your head hurt, but also reminded you why you were there.

And for a little while, you forgot about a certain demonic presence in the room. Almost.

Then, another interruption, but this time you couldn’t ignore it like you were planning to do. This time, it wasn’t the sound system or that annoying drilling sound, it was his voice.

“That panel shouldn’t be used,” he said from the back, voice deep and arms crossed as he nodded towards one of the wood panels the kids had dragged to the stage.

You turned around to see him, giving the most lethal look you could give to anyone. He didn’t flinch. “Why is that?” You asked, impatiently.

“It’s flagged and marked for disposal.” He explained, as he continued to work “If we use it and someone gets hurt, the insurance won’t cover it. That kind of negligence puts the theater at legal risk.”

You nodded, jaw tight, trying to remind yourself that he wasn’t doing this to be annoying—even if that was exactly how it felt. “Right. Thanks for the thrilling legal insight.”

“I am the lawyer here,” He said, like you could’ve possibly forgotten.

A few of the kids glanced between you, sensing the tension and trying very hard not to smile. Including Jungkook.

You gave him a smile. “Yes, and our part time set designer, noise machine, and safety police. We didn’t forget.”

He snorted. “Multitasking. You should try it sometime.”

Harriet let out a gasp and then covered her mouth, pretending to cough.

You clapped your hands. “Alright, listen up. We’re not using the panels, you heard our lawyer here. If you have any legal questions, I’m sure he’ll be happy to answer. Now come back to your positions before our legal team shut us down.”

You turned back to the stage, feeling your pulse in your ears. God, this was stupid. You couldn’t react this way every time he opened his mouth, you couldn’t let him get under your skin, not when he was not even trying.

You turned back to the stage, jaw tight. Let it go. He was right. Technically. And that was the worst part, he always had a way of being technically right. You should be used to it by now.

You didn’t have time for this. Not now.

Everyone kept going. You checked the time on your phone and realized there were only forty-five minutes left of class. After that, you could finally do what you actually came here to do: nothing, and you were genuinely excited about it.

You had your whole day planned: eat with your mom and Phil, take the longest nap imaginable, then wake up and lie in bed with Minnie’s cat until you got hungry enough to drag yourself up and find something to eat.

You thought nothing—not even Yoongi— could ruin it, even if he seemed to be trying really hard to do it.

But, as if he was on cue, his voice echoed through the stage like he was part of the cast himself.

“Okay, the scene was good, but still rough around the edges. We have time to fix it, don’t worry.” You said, turning to the cast “Poly, I liked the pauses, you have great timing. Just remember that she is not trying to hold back, she’s all-in from the start, speak louder next time.”

Poly hummed, eyes on her script as she quietly mouthed her lines again.

The room went quiet, ready to dive in into the scene again, when the heavy doors creaked open drawing everyone’s attention—everyone except you, whose attention was fixed on the man standing below the stage, who happened to open his mouth again.

“You know, technically, she couldn’t just file a petition like that without legal standing.” He said nonchalantly, making you snap your head towards him.

You paused, confused. “Wait, what?”

Being completely clueless that he wasn’t being welcomed by you, he tried to explain himself “She needs to be a leaseholder, or at least have legal representation,” He said. “If not, that whole scene about the petition is pretty off.”

You weren’t sure what he was doing now. Wasn’t there an unspoken agreement between you two? Some silent rule you both were supposed to obey whenever you happened to breathe the same air. Something along the lines of no talking, no staring, no getting too close.

At least, that was the rule you’ve been following for the past four years. You thought he understood that. You thought he felt it too.

You stared at him. “Is that… really the note you felt we needed right now?”

He shrugged, like this was just helpful feedback. “If the goal is to be convincing—”

“Right. Thank you. Because legal accuracy is something essential in community theater.”

Yoongi tilted his head, still annoyingly calm. “You’re the one who said it needed to feel real.”

You didn’t even try to smile. “Yeah. Emotionally. Not in a way that’s going to put people to sleep.”

He opened his mouth again, but you cut him off. “Unless you want to audition for Guy Who Shouts Legal Objections From the Back of the Room, maybe let me direct?”

He paused, his brows lifting ever so slightly. You weren’t sure if he was about to keep pushing or finally let it go.

“Sure. You’re in charge,” he said, backing off.

You already had a sharp retort loaded on your tongue before he even opened his mouth, but as your gaze drifted towards the seats, you caught sight of Minnie, who had just slipped into the theater.

She was staring straight at you, arms crossed and eyebrows raised in that quiet, deadly way of hers. Okay, you got it, that was it. You decided to save it for now.

It was always safest to assume that every man who had ever lived knew the first universal rule of a girl’s handbook: best friends told each other everything.

You were surprised when you came across men who didn’t know about it—like when you had a fight with Ian, and he would get annoyed when you ran to tell Minnie everything about it. Minnie would laugh and say that it was his fault for thinking that you would keep a secret from the person who has been your only confidant for most of your life.

Thinking about it now, Minnie was a nightmare to have as your girlfriend’s best friend. She wanted to know everything, every single detail, every word exactly as it was spoken, as if she had been in the room when you fought with your boyfriend. And you were probably a nightmare to have as a girlfriend, too, because you told her everything.

It was the first rule in a girl’s handbook: best friends told each other everything. As class came to an end and the room filled with overlapping voices, kids repeating lines as they hopped off the stage and chairs being dragged noisily back into place, you glanced at Yoongi, his hair a mess and hands still smudged with dust, and wondered if he’d ever heard of that rule. If not, Minnie made sure he did by the end of the morning.

She stayed to watch the end of the class, saying goodbye to every single kid as they left. When the door closed behind the last of them, the room suddenly fell silent, the only sounds were the distant voices of Yoongi and Jungkook, and Minnie’s steady step as she made her way towards you.

You were zipping up your backpack when she spoke.

“You,” she said, making you look up. “And you.”

She pointed at you, then at the man standing in the back of the room.

“Mind joining me in my office?” she said, voice calm, but carrying enough weight to make it clear it wasn’t really a question. For a second, you and Yoongi exchanged glances, like two kids getting caught sharing notes in the middle of class.

God, it was your first day and you already screwed it up. You couldn’t even blame it on someone else.

Yoongi exhaled slowly, and you could already feel the tension in your shoulders returning. You threw a quick, weary glance at him before following Minnie’s lead.

You walked towards the office, Yoongi trailing behind you. The building was quieter now, the murmur of the rehearsal fading into the distance. Once inside, Minnie closed the door behind you.

You searched your best friend’s eyes for a moment, looking for some kind of reassurance—but she didn’t look at you. She didn’t seem angry, not exactly, but she wasn’t happy either. Honestly, she had every right not to be. You could admit that much, at least.

“Okay, can you, uh… explain what that was?” she asked, settling into the chair in front of you. Neither of you knew what the right move was, but apparently, standing there looking dumb was it. Minnie shook her head, already regretting the question. “Actually, no. Don’t even bother. I already know.”

You gulped, suddenly nervous. You definitely weren’t expecting to get scolded by your best friend today.

“Okay, I don’t know how to say this the right way.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m well aware the two of you aren’t exactly on speaking terms. But I did think you could be in the same room without trying to rip each other’s throats out.” She looked up at you then, gaze soft but pointed. “You promised me you had no problem with him being around here.”

You felt your face heat up immediately. Your eyes widened just a little. “Minnie, I—”

“And you.” She interrupted, pointing at the man standing beside you with crossed arms. “I certainly wasn’t expecting you to behave like another teenager, Yoongi.”

Yoongi shifted his weight. You didn’t look at him, but you could hear the quiet sigh before he tried to speak.

“Minnie…” He started, voice low.

“Sorry. I’m not in the mood to hear any of this.” She raised a hand, cutting him off before he could go further. “I don’t care who started it, or what the hell it was even about. Whatever happened between the two of you in the past is none of my business. In fact—” She gestured vaguely toward the hallway. “Kill each other off if you must. But do it in the parking lot, or the park across the street. Not here. Not in front of the kids.”

Silence followed.

You stood still, realizing it was the first time someone had brought up what happened between you and Yoongi in a very long time. And it made your skin crawl.

Yoongi stayed quiet too. You could feel his presence beside you, the way he slightly shifted, the sound of his fingers tapping once against his arm. It wasn’t much, but it told you he was biting something back.

Minnie let out a long sigh and dropped into her chair again. For a moment, the only sound was the faint creak of the seat and the tension still thick in the room.

Then her voice softened.

“Listen, I don’t want to be a dick,” she muttered, rubbing her forehead. “If I could put you in separate rooms so you never had to see each other again, I would. Gladly.”

She looked between you, then leaned forward a little.

“But Yoongi’s working on the theater for the next month. So are you. Unless we want this place to burn to the ground before December, you’re gonna have to see each other. Even on weekdays. Even when it sucks.”

She exhaled “I’ve got a lot of shit going on right now, so can we please—please, pretty please, just try to get along? For the sake of this place and my mental health?”

You shifted your weight, arms crossed loosely in front of you as you stared at the floor. Minnie's words weren’t wrong. In fact, they hit a little too close to the truth.

“Yeah,” you said finally, your voice quiet but steady. “Okay.”

It was the best you could do without sounding defensive. Or worse, emotional.

You didn’t dare look at Yoongi. Just the idea of meeting his eyes in that moment made your stomach turn, but you heard him humming in response, quietly agreeing, too.

“Good,” Minnie said, still firm but less sharp now. “Because I can’t babysit you two. I’ve already got a dozen kids to look after. Don’t make me regret trusting you with this.”

You both nodded, like students after detention. You glanced at Yoongi—brief, instinctive—and to your surprise, he didn’t look back either.

Minnie waved a hand toward the door with a final sigh.

“Alright. Go.”

You mumbled a quiet goodbye and turned around, being the first to leave. Your steps were quick, almost impatient, as if putting distance between you and that office might somehow erase the last five minutes from existence.

You gripped the strap of your bag tighter, nails digging into the fabric. Once you were past the main doors, you shut your eyes for a moment and exhaled sharply.

God, you felt like such a fool.

You were supposed to be past this. Supposed to be past him. Why couldn’t you just ignore him? Why was he so impossible to avoid?

You shook your head and started walking again, hoping it might clear your thoughts. But the images from two minutes ago clung stubbornly inside of your mind, replaying in loop.

Then, you felt it. A hand brushing your shoulder.

You flinched and turned around, pulse jumping.

Yoongi stood there. Of course he did.

You hadn’t even noticed he’d followed you out.

With dirty clothes, dirty hands and hair all messy, he searched for your eyes, soft but filled with concern, biting his lower lip before speaking. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I don’t want you to leave yet.”

You blinked, confused. “What?”

“Please…” he said, his voice low and hesitant. “Let’s talk.”

It wasn’t the words so much as the way he said them—quiet, and so soft it made your heart clench.

You glanced around, suddenly aware of where you were. It was the same place you were that December night four years ago when you were waiting in line to watch the movie, cold and nervous and stupidly in love.

You crossed your arms, swallowing the memory like a pill. “I’m not sure I want to talk right now.” Or ever.

Yoongi didn’t flinch. He flexed his jaw a little, and nodded because he knew you were right. “Yeah,” he said, eyes dropping to the pavement for a second. “I figured.”

The wind tugged at both your clothes, making him shiver, he wasn’t wearing a coat, just that smudged white t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. There, in the early afternoon sunlight, you had the chance to look at him, to really look at him after four long years. You hadn’t realized how much he’d changed, how much longer his hair was now, how he only wore one pair of earrings, how his lips looked slightly pinker. He looked older, of course he did. The years had passed, and he couldn’t help but change. He didn’t look like a boy anymore, but like a man—and for some reason, that hurt

He dragged a hand through his hair, sighing. “It’s just… I want to fix this. Not now, if that’s not what you want. But eventually. Just… let me try.”

You stared at him, unsure if you wanted to laugh or scream. “How?”

He let out a breathy, half-laugh, frustrated. “Honestly? I have no fucking idea. But I’ll think of something.”

You gave him a bitter little scoff.

“I’m serious,” he said, stepping forward just slightly, but not too close. “I will.”

“I’ll need something better than that, Yoongi.”

“I know,” he said, voice low. “I do.”

He hesitated, glancing away for a moment. Then he scratched the back of his neck, a little unsure, a little boyish in the most disarming way. “My mom… she asked me to invite you to dinner one of these days. What if we start there?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Using your mom is cheating.”

That actually got a real smile out of him. Soft and crooked, it made your stomach turn. “I know that too.”

God, you hated how easy it was to remember what that smile did to you.

And yet, somehow, you also knew you were about to say yes.

You hesitated, your fingers fidgeting with the strap of your bag, eyes fixed on a crack in the pavement like it held the answer you couldn’t find inside yourself. Just say no. Walk away. But the words never came.

You sighed, voice low and reluctant. “God, Yoongi… if you piss me off, I swear—”

“I’ll try not to,” he said quickly, biting back a smile.

You gave him a look over your shoulder, narrowing your eyes. “That doesn’t sound very promising.”

But still—you were already walking.

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slushfaerie · 4 months ago

Text

༘⋆ CRUMBS — prelude.

childhood friend!art donaldson x reader

word count & warnings – 1k. sfw. notes – inspired by an old friendship & the way it can feel when you make eye contact with someone you haven't met, but it feels like your heart recognizes.

it's the first day of high school and you're finishing your PB&J as you hustle up the stairs and slip through the door to Mr. Hu's classroom. Geometry right after lunch was diabolical – something you wouldn't wish on your worst enemy.

Mr. Hu's class was open seating, the room filled with the sound of comfortable, easy chatter. you opt for the fourth seat from the front, nearer to the wall without windows. you didn't want to give your mind too many chances to wander off. it would probably run away if it could.

the snap of gum popping rings out in the room amidst the din of your classmates following Mr. Hu’s beginning-of-semester spiel. you hear a snicker and something murmured you can't quite make out. another bubble pops as the semester's syllabi get passed down each of the narrow rows. you turn to pass the stack to the person behind you, taking the opportunity to get a glance at the source of the noise.

Arthur Donaldson - or "just Art. please." as you'd learned from roll call - takes that exact moment to glance in your direction. a little smile creeps up the side of his face as he chews his gum, listening to whatever was being said by the person beside him. a beanie on his head unsuccessfully attempts to tame unruly curls spilling out of it. you turn away swiftly, feeling an uninvited warmth kiss your cheeks.

was that crooked smile was meant for you? you'll never know.

but something about that dimple on his cheek and the way he lights up the back corner of the room kind of makes you wish it was.

your neighborhood was textbook suburbia: a smattering of young families still with a semblance of that spark of hope in their eyes balancing out the sleepier majority, mostly nosy retirees-turned busybodies and gossips.

and Art Donaldson's grandmother, the sweet lady she was, fell into the latter category.

Mrs. Donaldson had moved in with Art and his parents when he was just a sniffly little mess of golden curls. sat under an umbrella one fated summer at the community recreation center where Art picked up a tennis racket for the first time. overly enthusiastic cheers for every point he scored were met with a dimpled smile and wave from her grandson.

now, Art was in high school. still playing tennis. and still a mess of golden curls.

high school was a different beast, consolidating the town’s two junior highs and throwing all of the students into one big pot of teenage hormones and anticipatory stress for the future.

you and Art weren't new neighbors, funny enough. you'd become neighbors in the 6th grade, when your family moved across town and left behind the first place you'd called home.

Art could hazily recall the night his folks had told him a kid his age was moving into the neighborhood - they both happened to be home between business trips. admittedly, he wasn't too invested in the development at the time. was too busy thinking about his backhand or the show he was watching on TV.

"Arthur, are you even listening?" his Mother had asked, moving to grab the remote and turn the TV off herself. he never did get to see how that episode ended.

and that was the first impression you'd made on him.

beyond that, for years you'd remained siloed in the routine established by your family as long as you could remember.

you’d be dropped off by your parents on their way into work and driven home after school ended. as you sat in your Dad’s car, you’d often drive by other kids walking to the closer school nearby. but your parents decided they couldn’t have their baby walking to school. that's too dangerous.

while Art had attended Westshore for junior high, your parents had opted to keep you at Shoreside, where the kids you'd known from your younger years had all gone.

you didn't argue too much. it was easier that way.

keeping your head down and in the comfortable monotony of routine meant that you hadn't managed to see Art before. you'd remember a face like that, you think.

but he had seen you.

Art had been helping his Grandmother care for her rose bushes - the way he did every Sunday morning after she’d take him to church with her - when he'd witnessed what seemed to be one of the few instances you'd be allowed out on your own.

on your own, accompanied by your family's dog, more exactly. he saw the way you walked your dog around the block, letting her choose the route you traversed like her own adventure.

and before he knew it, Art found himself beginning to hope he'd see you every time he helped his grandmother or ventured out into the neighborhood.

he’d see how you’d sometimes end your walks sitting with your dog on the grassy hill at the far end of the park nestled in the heart of your neighborhood, just visible from his front yard. you’d look up at the trees or the sky and look like you were thinking too hard about something. occasionally, you'd bring a book with you.

sometimes he’d see a flash of your laugh in the front seat of your Dad’s car driving by on your way home from school. it was like you were in your own orbit, in your own world – a world he had the privilege of occasionally getting a little glimpse of.

even if Art didn't want to think too hard about it, something about the way you looked at him had his heart doing a funny dance.

Art had tried to play it cool, even pretending to care so fucking much about what Mitchell had just said to him. but he couldn't help the grin on his face.

because there you were, four seats in front and one row over to the left, turning to pass the stack of papers back. you’d held his gaze for a breath that felt like it got stuck in his chest before turning to face back front. a few stray crumbs of something on your face.

you'd finally seen him too.

thanks for reading 🤍🪽let me know what you thought if you feel moved to do so.

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #art donaldson x you #challengers #challengers fic #challengers x reader #slush writes ౨ৎ⋆˚#this is a prelude to a bigger expanded concept in my head #there may be more parts in the future #or i may never write again #duality of sof #crumbs au

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lazyneonrabbitt · 1 year ago

Text

The better girlfriend

Daryl Dixon x reader | SMUT🔞 [pt.1]

Having some alone time with Daryl in the woods was not as alone as you expected. But you won in the end so it was worth the drama.

It had been a good few months of being with Daryl and developing your relationship into the well oiled machine it had become these days.

Daryl had invited you to go hunting with him so you could spend some alone time away from the community, thinking the woods would be the best place to get some peace and quiet. Just the two of you in the vast greens of the forest.

There hadn't been many walkers around the area, to your luck, you thought. You had been dying to ask Daryl if he was willing to fuck you up against a tree, or at the edge of the lake when the weather allows for swimming.

"Look there." Daryl's hand found your shoulder to pull you in front of him, sandwiched between the large tree and his body. "Righ' there." His breath fanned your ear as his fingers pointed at an animal in the distance.

Or, you thought he was pointing at one, because you weren't seeing anything remotely resembling an animal in the direction of his fingers.

Were you truly that much of a sucky hunter?

"Dee, I don't see any--" The hand that pointed before dropped to your hip so he could grind against you.

"R'member ya sayin' ya watched. Was cuz ya were jealous, aint it?" His voice was low and gravely, barely above a whisper. "Lemme make this huntin' teip a lil' less boring for ya." The crossbow formerly in Daryl's hands was set on the ground, along with your bags, coats, anything but the pants pulled down to Daryl's thighs and the ones dangling from your leg.

"Tap me when yer legs don' want no more." With a swift lick of his lips he moved down to his knees and stuck his fave between your legs. His beard scraped your thighs and his tongue left a trail of heat in its wake. "Oh fuck, Daryl.."

Moving a leg for better acces Daryl now held you up with one hand on your hip and one on the back of your thigh as he lapped at you like he hadn't had a meal in weeks. "Hahh... ahh." You needed a hand up at your mouth to keep yourself from getting too loud. Daryl's wet, sloppy sounds were at least slightly muffled by the plush of your legs that you felt getting slicker by the second as they slowly started to buckle thr closer you got to your first orgasm of the day. Your hand found his hair, "Daryl.. close.." a harsh tug at the roots had Daryl tighten his grip on your hips and let out a vulgar moan against your clit, wrapping his lips back around it to finish you off. He made sure to lick you clean before pulling you down to his level and laying you down on the forest floor.

Daryl crawled over you, staring down at you like a predator ready to devour its prey. The lower half of his face still glitening with your slick and his thick cock dripping in anticipation.

"Looks like you enjoyed yourself too, dear." Your legs went to wrap around his ass and pull his down to you, feeling him press against your centre. Daryl sat up on his haunches to get a nice view of where his cock slowly pushed into your wet heat, rocking back and forth at a steady pace with his large hands on your hips and your legs wrapped around his waist.

Daryl only got a few rough thrusts in before feeling that familiar tug already, wanting to apologize for how short he'd last but the excitement of having you on his turf got the best of him. He finished without a warning, a loud, animalistic groan leaving him as he slumped forward. One hand landing right next to your head on the forest floor and his face inches from you, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath. He panted as he caught his breath, still semi hard inside of you making you want to squeeze your walls around him. Each little squeeze had him whimper, quickly falling to his elbows with his face in the crook of your neck. You could feel him getting hard fast, continuing to pant against your skin as his thrusts started to slowly pick up again. "You feel so good, Dee." Your hand found his hair and tangled your fingers into the strands, keeping his head in place as he rutted into you like an animal chasing its release.

"S'like heaven.." Daryl's entire world disappeared in that moment. There was just him and you, intertwined on a bed of leaves.

With Daryl's face buried in the crook of your neck it was your job to keep an eye on your surroundings, slowly moving your head towards the soft rustle of leaves that had you stare right into the eyes of the hag herself.

Daryl's ex stood further off between the trees with someone you barely recognised. With looking straight into the eyes of thr woman you put your hand back in Daryl's hair, tugging at the roots and earning a loud moan. Your heels dug deeper in Daryl's back, making him thrust even deeper, having you moaning out loud too. Daryl's hand moved in response, finding the closest piece of fabric to wipe his fingers on before moving his hand up to your face and stuffing two thick fingers between your lips to silence you.

All the while your eyes were still glued to hers.

Daryl had noticed nothing of the interaction by the time you returned all your attention to him, quietly whining you were close and getting a likeminded answer in return and not long after laying in each other's embrace, enjoying the afterglow and catching your breaths.

While you got wiped down and dressed you decided to give Daryl the much needed heads up. "Your lovely ex girlfriend and some douche walked by earlier."

Daryl's eyes moved to meet you as he buttoned up his shirt, lifting a brow as a dign to continue. "Yeah, so expect comments as soon as we see them back home."

An affirmative grunt was all you got in reply as you continued to get ready to move on again.

Your checkup along all of Daryl's traps became more of a repair session between cut ropes and raided traps. Not a single one was left untouched.

"No' only did they see us, they had ta break the damn traps too?" Daryl was quick to blame the two, seeing some were undone properly.

"Surprises me she actually listened for once, then. She remembered how to undo this kind." While you busied yourself setting the trap up properly again, Daryl was a few treea down entirely re-stringing one that got cut down in order to take the animal out. "Bet they're back home lyin' their asses off with stolen game."

There was venom in his tone. Daryl had only a few rules when it came to his work in the woods and normally everyone kept to those.

"Rick will know they took it, he'll call them out on their shit."

Your offer to go fishing was denied without a second thought. Daryl was done.

It hurt you to see him so defeated, and you hated how one person could dismiss the community's rules so easily for their own profit.

You came home with nothing, but the guards didn't seem surprised. Only a quick "Rick took care of it." before you moved on.

Before you went back to your house you stopped by Olivia to report the used materials for the repaired traps and swung by the pantry for something easy to eat.

You were about halfway home and couldn't avoid running into the one person you hoped not to see today. Across the street where you had to pass was her home, currently being used to house a get together of the women's clique. And all eyes were on the two of you.

Daryl tried his best to just look ahead and keep moving on, but the second you were right across her home your walk was interupted.

"You just Had to go see how good he is in the woods huh?" The shrill sounding callout was impossible to ignore and had you stop dead in your tracks, Daryl almost stumbling into you. The hand on your side that clearly meant to steer you away did nothing.

"Oh I Know Daryl's good at anything he does in the woods. Didn't need to have seen your squealing hog impressions to figure that out." You made your way across the street. "He's so good in the woods people need to steal from him and flaunt what's obviously his handywork."

"Besides," you cocked your head to the side in a thinking manner. "I could have sworn you thought he was horrible in bed. So what changed your mind?"

Daryl was silently praying for the pavement to swallow him whole at that moment, but then he wouldhave missed the stammering that was happening in front of him.

With all eyes now on her there were no words that could save her from this fuck up.

"Well?" There was a shit eating grin on your face that only added fuel to the fire that was her beet red face, full of anger but unable to form a proper response.

Daryl's side met with yours as his arm snaked around your back and he pressed a kiss to your hair. It was a small gesture, but it had enough impact to take the win as you two watched her walk off in a rage.

The others that still found themselves on her porch gave you two a shrug as they looked to where she disappeared off to. A few "sorry"'s and "I don't know either"'s came from them as you turned to make your way back home.

"Ya know wha'?" Daryl's hand squeezed your hip as you walked home side by side.

With raised brows and a soft smile you looked at him, the soft sunlight highlighting everything you found so beautiful about him.

"M'glad ya saved me from 'er." His hand slid from your body to take yours, lacing together your fingers and playfully bumping shoulders.

On the turn onto your yard Daryl stopped you with a soft tug on your arm, turning you towards him.

You watched him get in his head for a moment, but his hands found yours. The soft slide of his calloused fingertips over the skin of your arms down to the palms of your hands as he took them both in his again.

With a soft steadying breath he leaned in for a most gentle kiss. It took you off guard at first, Daryl never kissed you in public and now he was holding on to you like this for everyone to see.

You kissed him back with the same intensity he was giving, sharing maybe the most intimate moment you've had.

When you broke apart for air Daryl's breath was shaky, the nerves still clear as day in every fiber of his being.

But he was smiling.

Eyes squinted with the uncontrolable pull of the upward curve of his lips.

Your hands were still held in his when Daryl came back to earth. The blue in his eyes overflowing with everything he was feeling in this moment, but only one stood out.

"I love ya. More than anythin' else in the world. Aint no one gon' change tha'."

A/N: Thanks to a very excited sounding reply to the original fic we now have a second part!! I hope you all enjoyed it ♡♡

#sometimes i write #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #twd #the walking dead #twd daryl #daryl x reader #twd x reader

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instait · 2 years ago

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leia-writes · 4 months ago

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Hi! I read "Kiss With A Fist" and i loved it, i like ur writing sm! Can i request a femreader x Frontman smut? Here's a plot idea: hotel room 1 bed type of situation ( reader is an assistant to the Frontman and they got a love/hate type of relationship ). Ty in advance!

Bittersuite

hwang in-ho | front man x reader

ao3 link (coming soon when it decides to work)

masterlist

song inspiration: bittersuite by billie eilish

a/n: thank you so much for your request!!

warnings: smut - 18+ ONLY

word count: 9,914

posted on: 2/21/2025

The jet touched down smoothly on the runway, gently interrupting you from your thoughts. Seated next to you by the window was In-ho, who had been quietly sitting with his eyes closed before being awoken. Hwang In-ho, who was the Front Man of the South Korean Squid Games, and who was also your boss.

Your job as In-ho’s assistant mostly consisted of doing all the boring parts of his job. Keeping files organized, documenting important events, and communicating with other Squid Game operations around the world. It also meant you traveled with him wherever he went, which is why you were now landing in Florence, Italy.\

The Squid Game organization was growing at a rapid pace with many new locations being established. Because of In-ho’s expertise and experience, he was asked to visit a few sites as they were being developed. He also liked to visit existing locations from time to time, so this stop in Florence was the first of many. Once the plane finished landing, you and In-ho were led to your private car as your bags were loaded into the trunk for you. The drive to the site would be a couple hours as the location was chosen to be as remote as possible.

Construction had only recently begun on this new site, so there wasn’t much completed when you two had arrived. The main control room and some conference rooms had been built, but no residences or player rooms were finished. Despite the incomplete nature of the place, your day was filled with meetings. You supported In-ho as he spent the day going over construction blueprints, devising plans for future games, and assisting the staff in learning how to recruit players. As In-ho’s assistant, you felt pulled in every direction as he expected you to be on call and ready with whatever he needed at whatever time he asked.

By the end of the day, you were both exhausted from travel and work, not even having had time for a meal. Since the Florence site was so early in its development, you had planned to leave that evening for your next site in Oslo, which was more established and almost complete. By the time In-ho finally felt confident enough to leave, you had already missed the private jet’s initially scheduled departure time. You gathered your work bag and files with haste and all but pushed In-ho towards the car as it began to lightly rain.

You settled into the car for another 2-hour drive back to the plane, the soft patter of rain quickly turning into a full-blown thunderstorm. It was so relaxing after your tiring day, you rested your head next to the window and let yourself relax for a bit. In-ho nursed a glass of whiskey and played some soft jazz music. He wouldn’t need you for a while, so you decided to take advantage of the time and try to nap.

It was in moments like these, when In-ho wasn’t barking orders or demanding the world of you, when he seemed calm and content, that you let your mind wander. You’d worked for him for a few years now. When you started, you spent months convinced you’d be fired at any given moment. It wasn’t the game or the organization that intimidated you - you had connections of your own that landed you a job in a place like this - it was In-ho.

From the moment you met him, you had this incessant need to please him. You’d always taken pride in your jobs, always wanted to do your best, but with In-ho, you craved his approval over everything. Not only did you want to be good at your job, but you wanted him to simply like you. Knowing he relied on you and needed you made you feel important. Whether he complimented your work or yelled at you over something stupid, you craved his attention.

Maybe that’s why you had lasted so long in this job. Even when he got upset with you, even when he let his anger and frustrations out on you, you never gave up. And when you did well, god, did you love his praise.

Fuck, you were getting worked up just thinking about it, sitting next to him. You’d always felt attracted to him, but knew he would never, ever cross that line. No matter how much you wanted it, or how much you suspected that he wanted it too, it felt impossible. All you could do was live in the made-up world inside your head where he touched you whenever you wanted.

You were quickly taken from your thoughts with the feeling of a hand wrapping around yours. Looking to your side, you saw In-ho, his hand holding yours, his gaze on you like a hunter looking at its prey. You felt exposed, like he could read your thoughts. A blush was surely forming across your face.

“You did well today,” he said, his tone hoarse and low. Your heart skipped a beat, and you nodded, convinced if you spoke he’d be able to tell the dirty thoughts crossing your mind.

He squeezed your hand, his eyes lowering, searching every curve of your body before landing back on your eyes. “I think you deserve a reward for that… don’t you?”

Your breath hitched, you were too shocked to know what to say. Your mouth almost hung open in disbelief, seeing him talk to you like this.

He chuckled, his eyes darkening as he leaned closer to you. His breath gently grazed your face as he studied your features, only inches from your mouth.

“Do you want me to touch you, darling?”

An involuntary, quiet moan left your lips. A rush of warmth spread throughout your body, settling into your core.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice breathy with lust. “Please… yes.”

He slowly leaned in closer and kissed you, his free hand moving to the hem of your skirt. In-ho softly rubbed your thigh. Your mind was swirling - was he really, finally touching you now, after all this time? After all the longing you’d felt for him, for his touch, for his love and affection, why act on it now?

A sharp, hot wave of pleasure wracked your body as you felt In-ho’s hand move up your skirt, caressing your inner thigh. He kissed you more fervently now, his other hand leaving yours and reaching into your hair to press your lips harder on his. He was practically hovering over you at this point. His hands deftly moved beneath your underwear and his fingers slowly made their way to your wet, aching folds.

You cried out when he began to circle your clit with his fingers, seeming to know exactly the way you liked it. He pulled away to observe your flushed state and you felt vulnerable under his gaze, whimpering at his touch as he worked his fingers on you at a steady pace. You gripped his arms for dear life, as if you could fall out of his grasp at any moment.

He sighed softly above you. “That’s it, darling, let yourself go.”

You groaned, opening your legs further. “Please… more.”

He leaned next to your ear and whispered, “What was that?”“More.”“More what?”

You grabbed his wrist, his fingers stilling, and slowly pushed his hand down further to your entrance. He groaned darkly and his fingers began slowly teasing your entrance. Your hips involuntarily bucked forward, your aching core begging to be filled.

You gripped his wrist tighter, pushing his hand further down as hard as you could, but no matter how hard you tried he was able to resist and keep teasing you. Despite the lack of stimulation, you felt close to your release, making you even more desperate to feel his fingers.

If he could just get a little further, you were almost there… just a little longer…

Your eyes shot open.

Someone was shaking your shoulder violently, practically yelling at you. Yelling your name.

You turned to find In-ho, a flustered annoyance apparent on his face.

“Where are the fucking passports?”

What? Oh. Fuck.

Your mind was reeling in the aftermath of your dream. Reality felt like a betrayal after what you’d just felt. The man you’d just seen stick his hand down your underwear was now angrily yelling at you.

You sat up straight and pulled yourself together. Your bag was on In-ho’s lap, clearly rifled through in his frenzy.

“They’re not in the bag?”

“No. Or the suitcases. What did you do with them?”

“I-I don’t know, I had them when we arrived.” You began to look around in panic. He’d already searched everything in the car, the only other place you’d been was the new site.

“I must have left them in a conference room. Did you ask if-” “I’m not asking anyone anything, you call them right now.”

You silently scurried to grab your phone and call the staff at the new site. After several rings, you were able to get in touch with a lower level employee who luckily was still there. They quickly checked the rooms and confirmed you’d left the passports and a few other documents there. Clearly in your haste you hadn’t realized what you’d left. After getting off the phone, you realized the car was parked on the side of the road.

In-ho looked expectantly at you. You sighed, lowering your gaze. “I left them at the new site. I’m sorry. We need to go back.”

He let out a frustrated sigh and pressed the car intercom, directing the driver to turn back.

“We’ll have to postpone again,” he said, letting out a frustrated sigh, looking out the window.

You shrunk into your seat, wanting to be as small and inconspicuous as possible. Anything to avoid his wrath.

After a few silent moments, In-ho glanced at you again. His gaze seemed to linger on the edge of your skirt. “Arrange a hotel. I doubt we’ll be able to leave in this rain.”

You quickly got to work on your phone, searching for the best hotels with availability. Unfortunately, with it being a busy tourist season, nearly everything was booked. In-ho watched, clearly aggravated, as you tried and failed multiple times to find even one room.

After what seemed like your hundredth attempt, you finally found something. A nice, luxury hotel, and they even had a suite available to accommodate the two of you. You quickly booked it, and In-ho seemed temporarily satisfied.

With a sigh of slight relief, you settled back into your seat, keeping yourself from falling asleep again. After retrieving the passports, the pilot at the jet confirmed In-ho’s suspicions that you wouldn’t be able to leave that night. The car drove you both back to the city to your hotel and you set out to find dinner.

~~~

“Call a car for the hotel,” In-ho instructed, taking the last few sips of his drink. You sat across from him at the restaurant, finishing your own glass of wine. After the embarrassing events of the day, you had more than your fair share of wine at dinner. With the way In-ho was looking at you, something that felt like a quiet contempt, you couldn’t help but keep yourself busy sipping your drink.

“The hotel is just down this street, if you’d prefer to walk. Quicker than waiting for a car,” you responded. He silently nodded and finished his drink before standing up and leaving, not even bothering to wait for you. In a hurry, you gathered your things and followed him.

The rain was steadily pouring still as you opened your umbrella, watching In-ho walk ahead with his. You pulled your bag and coat close to you as you tried catching up. In the next moment, you felt someone crash into your side, sending you to the ground.

“Oh, fuck! I’m sorry.”

Your entire left side got soaked as your umbrella crashed to the ground next to you, though you managed to keep your bag close to your chest. A man appeared in front of you, crouching down next to you.

“Are… uh, are you, alright?” he slurred, alcohol apparent on his breath even from a few feet in front of you. Looking around, you noticed a bar in front of you, presumably where this man had just exited and ran into you. He seemed concerned but couldn’t help himself from giggling.

Scoffing, you quickly stood up, making sure nothing in your bag had gotten wet. The man grabbed your umbrella, still on the ground, and handed it to you. As you grasped the handle, the man wrapped his hand around yours. A cold shiver went down your spine, and not just because of the rain.

“Hey, I asked you… you ok?”

“I’m fine.” You tried pulling your hand from his but he just held you tighter.

“God, you’re pretty, why don’t you come wi-” “Would you let go of me?” you demanded.

He looked offended, then angry. Still grasping your hand, his other reached for your waist. You were about to punch him in the face before feeling him get pulled away from you.

In-ho appeared before you, pulling the man from behind by his collar with just one hand, the other still holding his umbrella. The man quickly lost his balance and fell to the ground, finally releasing you. In-ho towered over him as you backed away.

“Get your filthy hands off of her. And get the fuck out of here.”

Before the man could respond, In-ho stood up and roughly kicked him in the side. The man curled into a ball and groaned. As you watched in shock, In-ho forcefully grabbed your arm and led you back towards the hotel. He was silent, his jaw tensed.

After checking in and getting your room keys, you entered the elevator and composed yourself a bit. “Thank you.”

In-ho gave you a brief look, but simply nodded and stayed silent. The awkwardness between you was palpable - seeing him defend you like that gave you so many mixed emotions after screwing up earlier.

You reached your room door and scanned the key to reveal your suite. It was just like the receptionist described - a beautiful, luxury suite, with a large bathroom, balcony, a seating area with two large armchairs, and a kitchenette with a fully stocked bar. Perfect for two.

There was just one problem. There was only one bed.

In-ho sighed deeply and slowly walked throughout the room as you stayed frozen in fear near the front door. Not only did you fuck up the entire evening’s travel plans, you messed up the one simple job of finding a suitable room for the night. He started walking back towards the door, where your bags were, and you were sure you were about to be reprimanded beyond belief.

In-ho grabbed your bag and dropped it in front of you. “You’re soaking wet. Get yourself cleaned up.”

He walked away quietly. The wine from before seemed to catch up to you now, and you couldn’t stop yourself from speaking. “I’m so sorry, when I booked it I thought she mentioned two beds, she said it was perfect for two people so I just assumed she meant-”

“Stop.” His voice resounded throughout the room, quieting you immediately. He sighed and looked at you. “It’s too late to fix it now. So do as I told you and get yourself together.”

You scurried into the bathroom with your bag, wanting nothing more than to be out of his sight.

~~~

After taking a shower and getting ready to sleep, you exited the bathroom quietly and saw In-ho sitting on the balcony with a cigarette and a glass of whiskey. The door was barely open, but you could smell the scent of rain and cigarette smoke from outside. You had no clue what he was thinking, and what he planned to do about the bed situation. All things considered, you felt obligated to assume he would take the bed.

You pushed your suitcase into a corner and grabbed an extra set of blankets in the linen closet. Upon hearing you, In-ho turned to observe you. You felt his eyes on you but avoided his gaze, pulling your sweater closer to you. You’d put on a simple nightdress that felt a little too revealing without the sweater. After grabbing the blankets, you poured yourself a small glass of wine and sat in the armchair, opening a book you were currently reading.

The two of you stayed in your separate spots in silence for a while. A part of you felt more comfortable as time went on, but apprehension still laced your thoughts. In-ho put out his cigarette and walked inside, eyeing you, surrounded in a blanket, with curiosity.

“You’re not sleeping there tonight.”

You set your book down. “I’m fine. You can take the bed. It’s my fault we’re here anyways.”

He scoffed. “You’ve worked for me for how long? And you still don’t know how to listen.”

Taken aback by his words, and the alcohol giving you a little extra courage, you retorted. “Sorry I don’t want you to sleep on the floor? These chairs are way too small for you.”

He chuckled at that, and something curious tugged at your heart. He might’ve been a bit tipsy himself. “Just get in the bed. It’s fine.”

“You shouldn’t have to sleep on the-”

He groaned out of frustration. “I know. I get it. Just get in the fucking bed.” He walked to the kitchen to set down his glass.

You scoffed. “What, right now?”

He gave you a warning look - you weren’t going to push him any further. You slowly got up and sat in the bed as he gathered his things and went to the bathroom. You settled under the blankets, your body immediately responding to the relieving comfort of the bed. Well, if he insisted…

After a while, you heard In-ho come out of the bathroom. You were laying on your side, still reading, but turned when you heard him sit in the chair. He had a book of his own he was reading with his glasses on. A rare sight.

“Seriously, you don’t have to sleep there.”

He looked at you above his glasses. “I’m not.”

You stayed silent, but he continued looking at you. Daring you to defy him again. He was dressed more casually now, a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, though he still looked expensive. And those glasses triggered an excited flurry of emotions in your chest every time you saw them.

You sighed, defeated. “Fine,” you yawned. “Goodnight then.”

He laughed softly as you turned around, settling under the comforter.

“Goodnight, darling.”

He said it so casually, as if it were a second thought, as if calling you darling didn’t set off every nerve ending in your body. Your chest tightened as you tried to bring your heart down to earth. It was all too much, everything that had happened that day. You just wanted some rest.

~~~

The first thing you noticed upon waking up was the unbearable heat surrounding you. Laying in the bed with your eyes closed, you realized your sweater was making you entirely too hot under the comforter. You opened your eyes, complete darkness surrounding you except for the clock on each nightstand. It seemed that In-ho had lowered the light-blocking blinds. The clock read 4am.

You realized you were facing the other way from when you had fallen asleep, and held on to a pillow as you slept. The pillow was particularly warm, almost more than you were under your sweater. You moved your arm, getting your bearings, before realizing you weren’t holding a pillow.

It was In-ho.

Upon your discovery, you instantly froze. A million realizations seemed to hit you at once. In-ho hadn’t slept on the chair, or the floor, he slept next to you. And not only did you find yourself cuddling him in your sleep, you felt his arm wrapped around you too. On top of all of that, you were on the verge of sweating through your clothes if you stayed next to his furnace of a body.

You had to get up, now. Slowly, you pulled your arm off of him and sat up, gently moving his arm off of your back. You made slow, deliberate movements to sit on the edge of the bed without disturbing him, and pulled off your sweater. The cool air was a relief on your hot skin.

Taking a deep breath, you calmed yourself from the emotional thunderstorm in your mind. A glass of water sat on your nightstand, which hadn’t been there before. In-ho must have set it there for you. You tried to ignore the implications of it and took a few sips.

It was nice sitting in the dark silence, after the chaotic day you had. You wanted to sit in it for a bit longer, but you felt In-ho stir next to you.

“Are you ok?” His voice pierced the silence.

You sighed. “Mhm. Sorry.”

You felt his arm reach out towards you, searching the bed for you, until his fingers gently rested on your back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“What are you doing?”

You sighed. What was with the interrogation? “Just drinking water.”

He hummed, and pulled his arm back. You found yourself craving his warm touch again. The thought of it made you exhale in frustration.

“What?” he asked again.

After a few moments of contemplation, you responded, “Sometimes you expect the world from me, and other times you treat me like I’m fragile.”

He sighed, but didn’t respond. You weren’t sure what possessed you to say such a thing. Maybe the vulnerability you felt sitting with him in a dark room, alone.

Once you felt cool enough to return to the blankets, you slowly lowered yourself down to your pillow, unsure if In-ho had gone back to sleep. Upon feeling you shift in the bed, his hand quickly grasped your arm. The abruptness surprised you.

“You dreamt about me earlier, didn’t you?”

His words felt like a knife through your body. The fact that he even knew you dreamed, let alone might know what the content of that dream was, made you want to crawl in a hole and never come out. Your mind frantically raced. What exactly did he hear from you? How could you be so stupid to lust after him so much that you’d embarrass yourself like this?

In-ho felt your muscles tense under his touch. “I think you did.”

You stayed still and silent, begging for the moment to be over.

He turned on his side towards you, pulling your arm towards him. “Tell me.”

You could feel that he was almost hovering over you, imagining what his face might look like. As his grip tightened you felt even more embarrassed and couldn’t bring yourself to speak.

He sighed, and you felt his breath on your face. Just like in your dream. His voice softened.

“Tell me it was me, darling.”

You could sense a layer of something new in his voice, something almost pleading. You reached your hand to cover his, squeezing.

“Yes.”

He sighed, and you could feel the ends of his hair on your shoulder as he leaned his head down. “I thought so.” You felt his hand move to your neck, gently resting on your cheek and jaw. “Tell me what happened.”

An involuntary whimper left your mouth, out of embarrassment or lust you couldn’t tell. But you knew you couldn’t say.

His hot breath grazed your shoulder again. “I heard those little sounds you were making. Saw the way you squeezed your thighs together,” he huffed. “It was a good dream, wasn’t it?”

Fuck, fuck fuck fuck. Your mind nearly went blank. It was simultaneously the worst thing and best thing that could happen to you.

“Hm?”

You nodded, feeling his hand caress your cheek.

He hummed softly. “I could tell how much you liked it. Could hear you asking for more.”

You squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment and cursed your body for betraying you so badly.

He chuckled. “Why don’t you show me what happened in your dream? Since you were so rudely interrupted.” His hand trailed from your jaw to your waist, his fingers gliding smoothly along your skin and nightdress, gently feeling whatever he could get his hands on.

You let out a breathy moan and moved your hand to his on your waist, grabbing roughly, unsure of what to do. In-ho moved his head from your shoulder to your face, gently kissing your cheek.

“Show me.”

In the next instant, he captured your lips with his, kissing you with a gentle fervor. His kiss seemed to bring your mind back to reality, and you responded with equal intensity. It felt as if your entire body was responding to him now, with your back arching ever so slightly to chase his warmth.

You gripped his hand roughly again and pushed it further down towards your thighs, your legs opening for him. He groaned above you, pushing your dress up your legs. His hand gently caressed the outside of your underwear, and he pulled his mouth from yours.

“Is this what happened? You want me to touch you here?”

His words, unknowing to him, almost exactly echoed your dream. You whimpered pitifully beneath him, whispering, “Yes, please, yes.”

His fingers quickly dipped into your underwear as he continued kissing you feverishly, groaning at feeling how wet you were. He wasted no time in massaging your clit, relishing in the stifled moans and desperate twitching of your hips.

Your mind was absolutely reeling at the whiplash of the last few minutes, but you just couldn’t deny it anymore. Even if it made you look pathetic, you needed him badly. Like your dream before, you pushed his hand down further. This time, he didn’t tease you.

Two fingers entered you, and he quickly began pumping them in and out. The sudden feeling of being somewhat filled by him sent white hot pleasure from your core. You clenched around him, feeling yourself get even wetter for him. He bent his head down to your neck, urgently kissing and sucking at your sensitive skin.

You felt In-ho curl his fingers a bit inside you, pressing on the delicate, tender flesh that made your body writhe beneath him. If he continued much longer you were going to come undone.

“I’m… you’re gonna make me…” you whimpered, unable to form a complete sentence.

He quickly pulled his fingers from you. “Not yet, darling,” he huffed, his voice ragged with lust.

You felt him shift back on his knees, pulling the blanket from you both. His hands found the edge of your underwear and swiftly pulled them off of you. You heard him pull his shirt off and shift to take his pants off, immediately reaching forward to feel his bare skin.

As he shifted above you and settled between your legs, he caressed your face again, gently holding on to your jaw. “Do you want more?”

“Yes, fucking yes,” you pleaded.

He huffed loudly as you felt him line his cock with your entrance, slowly rubbing around your slick folds. He wanted to tease you more, point out how fucking demanding and needy you were being to your boss, but he couldn’t stand to wait any longer. He slowly thrust himself into your aching core, your body stretching deliciously to his thick cock.

You both groaned loudly together, completely overwhelmed. He quickened his pace, fucking you with intensity as you cried out in pleasure. You never imagined it could feel this good, feel better than your actual dreams.

He roughly grabbed your hair. “Is this what you wanted?”

His words made you clench on him, almost making him stutter in his pace. You couldn’t even form words.

“You wanted to get fucked by your superior, huh? Wanted me to fuck you in that car, I bet.”

You whimpered loudly beneath him, bringing his mouth to yours, meeting his thrusts with your hips. Everything was sending your body closer to the edge.

“I can feel you. You love this. Don’t worry… you,” he huffed, “you don’t need to say anything.”

His words brought tears to your eyes. It was all becoming so overwhelming. You wanted to tell him how good he made you feel, how close you were to coming undone, but you could barely stutter in between your blubbering cries.

“That’s it. Go ahead. Cum for me, darling.”

Unable to hold back any longer, you came with an intensity that wracked your entire body, becoming an absolute mess beneath him. Your walls clenched his throbbing cock tightly, practically begging him to cum with you. As your body spasmed, you held on to his shoulders for support. You felt his movements stutter as he spilled his cum into you with a low, guttural groan, prolonging your pleasure even longer with him. He thrust into you with great force a few times before completely stilling and letting his cock soften inside you.

Your arms stayed firmly wrapped around him, your body and mind wanting to stay in that moment forever. He sighed above you, his hand caressing your face, kissing you all over your face, lips, and neck. You almost giggled at the ticklish feeling.

After several moments, In-ho laid next to you, wrapping his arm around you to lay on his chest. Just like you were before waking up. Despite feeling like a sweaty, wet mess, you both gave in to exhaustion quickly and fell back asleep.

~~~

The next morning you awoke to an empty bed. It took you a few seconds to remember all that had happened during the night, but the memories overwhelmed your mind. Wondering where In-ho was, you quickly searched the room to find his bags gone. After checking your phone, you noticed a text from him.

“I’m downstairs. Get ready and let’s go.”

Shit. He texted you almost an hour ago. You rushed through your morning routine as fast as you could and gathered your bags, making your way to the lobby. In-ho sat alone, reading through some files for the next site.

A tinge of hesitation clouded your thoughts. You weren’t sure how to act moving forward - were you a couple? Was it even allowed? How did he feel about all of this?

As you approached In-ho, he glanced at you and quickly got up, gathering his things. He seemed to be in a hurry.

“Let’s go. We’re late.”

You scurried behind him. “You didn’t give me a time.”

The car was waiting outside the hotel. The driver loaded your bags and you and In-ho sat next to each other. He promptly pulled out the documents he was looking at before, completely ignoring your statement from before. Completely ignoring you, actually.

So maybe you weren’t wrong for feeling hesitant earlier. He clearly had a lot on his mind and that didn’t consist of you. Whatever complicated feelings that blossomed at the thought of that, you kept fully suppressed, focusing solely on work. If that’s how he wanted things, that’s what you would do.

The two of you made it to the plane with no issues and landed in Oslo that afternoon. Luckily this site was almost complete, so the private runway was available. You got straight to work in helping In-ho assist with the final touches to the place.

The entire day held an air of tension between you and In-ho. There was that whiplash again - you’d just had a passionate night with him and now he was acting more coldly towards you than usual, like he would when you just started out. It frustrated you so much. Just because you both had crossed a line that you could never come back from, that didn’t mean you weren’t good at your job anymore.

At the end of the day, you were relieved to finally get a break, from In-ho and everything else. Since your hotel had been properly booked in advance, you had a multi-room suite with In-ho, both of you having your own separate rooms this time. You had a shared living area, kitchen, and bathroom, but of course In-ho kept to himself. Upon arriving and dropping off your bags, In-ho left without a word, just a quick text: “I’m getting dinner. Don’t wait up.”

You rolled your eyes at the text, opening up the room service menu. Not sure what I’d be waiting for, you thought. You didn’t feel like venturing out today, just relaxing by yourself. After eating dinner alone, you settled into your bed and started reading before seeing a phone call from your best friend.

It wasn’t often you actually had time to talk to family or friends, so you took the call and started catching up. No one could actually know the details of your job, but it was still nice being able to chat. And with all the traveling you were doing lately, you missed the comforts of home.

As you chatted on the phone, In-ho came back from dinner. He had intentionally left in a haste when you two had gotten in the room, not wanting to confront you about anything that had happened the night before. But with one too many glasses of whiskey from dinner, his made up principles were quickly going out the window. As he poured himself another gratuitous glass in the kitchen, he heard soft laughter from your room.

He approached your slightly open door, listening to you.

“I know, I miss you too.”

“I can’t wait to see you.”

“Let’s definitely do that when I get back!”

A hot wave of jealousy afflicted his mind. Who could you be talking to? Who could you be missing, or wanting to spend time with? He was convinced it had to be a man, someone he was now in competition with for your attention. He tried his best to keep his simmering jealousy to himself as he walked back to the kitchen for his glass. You heard his footsteps then, lowering your voice to your friend.

“I’ve gotta go now. We’ll talk soon. Goodnight!”

After ending the call, you settled back into your bed, listening for what In-ho might do next. You heard him walk from the kitchen to the living area, ice clinking in his glass. Still ignoring you. Deciding it was time to get ready for bed, and giving yourself an excuse to walk through the living area, you made your way to the bathroom.

In-ho briefly glanced at you but stayed silent. You rolled your eyes after passing him. After washing up and putting on another nightdress, you walked back to your room. The nightdress made you feel a bit exposed, but after last night you didn’t feel a need to hide yourself. Even if everything had happened in complete darkness.

In-ho kept his eyes trained on you as you walked past, getting a glimpse of what he touched the night before but never saw. You ignored him and climbed back in your bed, opening your book to continue reading. After a few minutes, you heard In-ho approach your door, knocking on it lightly.

“Hm?” He gave you a look of pure contempt. “Who was that before?”

“What?” “On the phone. Who were you talking to?”

You scoffed. “Why do you need to know?”

It was quite obvious he was jealous, but he had no clue what he was talking about. And he had no right to be jealous when he acted so coldly towards you all day. You ignored him and went back to your book.

That annoyed him even further. “You know, this isn’t a vacation.”

You gave him an incredulous look, putting down your book and standing up to close your door. “Stop treating me like I’m bad at my job. I was just talking to a friend,” you retorted. “If there’s nothing else work-related that you need from me, then goodnight.”

He stared you down, like he was trying to intimidate you, but you saw through his facade. Clearly he was struggling with his feelings towards you, but that was on him to figure out. Casting you aside wasn’t the way to do it. You stared at him for a few moments before you noticed his features slightly soften.

He looked down, sighing in what seemed like defeat. “I’m sorry, but… you know we can’t do this.”

Your eyes narrowed, you knew exactly what he was talking about. Finally showing some honesty. “You’ve made that clear.”

He stayed silent, his expression shifting into something more like longing.

Rolling your eyes, you prodded him further. “Why?”

“It’s a weakness they could use against us.”

“It’s not like they know.” “They could find out. They would eventually.”

You searched his eyes for something, as if you were looking for an answer to a question you hadn’t thought of yet. Why was he being so cautious, so seemingly overdramatic about this? You just can’t go back from what happened between you two.

You didn’t want to. And if he was going to put you through all of this hell, you were going to give it right back to him.

You sighed deeply, resting an arm on your hip and the other on the door. The neckline of your nightdress left only a little to the imagination. You watched as In-ho traced the curve of your chest and shoulders with his eyes.

“Well, that’s too bad then,” you declared, like you were daring him to make a move. After a few tense, silent moments, you turned to go back to your bed. In-ho quickly grabbed your arm to stop you.

“Well, if they don’t know… then…”

You pouted. “They’ll find out eventually, won’t they?”

He rolled his eyes and gripped you tighter, prompting you to push him away. Instead, he grabbed your shoulders and pushed you against the wall. His head rested near yours, his breath hot on your ear. Though his sudden movement was shocking, your body immediately welcomed the warmth of his.

He seemed so forward and hesitant at the same time, his hands holding you tightly but seemingly keeping himself from going any further. You craved his touch, his kiss, but his close proximity yet lack of action made you frustrated. Your hands slowly made their way to his shoulders, rubbing softly, bringing your body closer to his.

He quickly grabbed your waist and pressed himself against you, his erection wholly apparent. Your mind immediately went to the night before and you moaned without thinking, setting In-ho off even further. He gripped the back of your head, pulling at your hair, and pushed your head into his shoulder, his lips ghosting over your neck. He grinded himself into you as you grasped at his arms and shoulders, begging for more from him.

All you wanted was more of him. And here he was, so pliable in your hands, likely willing to do whatever you wanted if you asked him nicely enough. Despite his concerns from before, which he seemed to not care about at all anymore.

Was that his plan this whole time? Did he come up with some excuse to keep you emotionally far away but physically close? Could you even handle a solely physical relationship, and not only that but with your superior?

Your heart dropped and you pushed In-ho off of you. He looked at you confused, his face flushed intensely from alcohol and touching you.

You looked down. “You can’t… you can’t just use me for sex then…”

He seemed even more confused now, in a stunned silence.

“I know you’re my boss and everything but-”

“That’s not… I’m not-”

“You don’t get to play around with me whenever you want, like a toy.” You looked him in the eye then, the hurt apparent on your face. His expression dropped, realizing the consequence of his foolishness. He nodded slowly and walked out, leaving you alone with a storm of emotions to deal with.

You quickly shut your door completely and got in bed, wanting to forget about everything that happened the past couple days.

Hopefully you wouldn’t dream of him, as you often did.

~~~

The next day was pure torture. Not only were you exhausted from barely sleeping, but the weight of the conflict between you and In-ho felt physically burdensome on your body. Your mind was constantly being pulled in every direction - if you weren’t busying your mind with mindless work tasks, you were constantly subjected to a barrage of thoughts about him. How you felt so connected to him before, how he seemed to know exactly what you were thinking, how he wanted you just as you wanted him.

How he tried to use you.

Should you even continue working for him? The thought crossed your mind a few times throughout the day. You definitely couldn’t continue like this. But you also couldn’t see yourself doing anything else, you didn’t want to. You took pride in your work and contributions. And a small part of you deep down still craved In-ho’s approval, though it bothered you to admit it to yourself.

After your busy day, you ventured from the remote location with In-ho and the Host of your Squid Game site. He had traveled to join you two in assisting the new location. The three of you arrived at your dinner reservation and settled in, finally relaxing.

After getting drinks and waiting for your food, it was clear to the Host that there was friction between you and In-ho. Your responses to each other, in the rare moments you spoke directly to each other, were sharp and short. The Host had been suspecting something was off all day, but it was apparent now at dinner.

He eyed both of you curiously. “Today couldn’t have been that bad. What’s with the miserable faces?”

Your face flushed in subtle embarrassment, worrying you came off as unprofessional. In-ho’s stoic expression seemed to freeze in time, giving no response. The awkwardness was almost unbearable.

The Host chuckled to himself. “What, is it a lover’s quarrel?”

In-ho’s eyes darted to the Host in shock, and your face flushed even more red. Oh god, how obvious was it? You hadn’t so much as kissed before two days ago and now the Host was teasing you about your relationship?

In-ho cleared his throat. “We aren’t lovers.”

The Host looked at him in slight disbelief. “Oh, it was that bad?”

You and In-ho simultaneously gave confused looks. The Host looked at you two back and forth incredulously. “Wait. You’re not…?”

“Not what?” In-ho asked.

“You weren’t a couple?”

Your heart seemed to beat a million beats at once as In-ho tensed up completely next to you.

The Host laughed again, shaking his head. “I could’ve… We could’ve sworn that you two were together. I mean, you do everything together.”

In-ho’s jaw tensed visibly as he sipped his drink. All you wanted was to disappear.

“I just thought, with the way you two act with each other… I mean, we thought it was obvious. Even brazen at times.”

Your eyes widened and you looked down in embarrassment, In-ho clearing his throat again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know we were giving that impression.”

“Don’t apologize, there’s nothing wrong with it. You can do what you want as long as your work is good.” He smiled, clearly relishing in how you and In-ho were squirming at his words.

You could tell the Host was trying to lighten the mood, all but giving you and In-ho permission to be together. But instead of feeling excited, your heart dropped. If the Host was acting so casually about your relationship, why did In-ho think you two couldn’t be together? It made his flimsy excuse the night before seem even more like a lie. Obviously your suspicions were right about him. You wanted to be mad but all you could feel in that moment was a sad loneliness.

The mood seemed to shift more positively with In-ho and the Host, but you couldn’t put on a facade anymore. It was apparent the rest of the night that you were upset, but you stayed quiet. The Host gave you a few pitying looks, like he knew he just twisted the knife in the wound in your heart.

~~~

Once you arrived back in the suite, you immediately went to your room and shut the door, letting out a giant breath. It felt like the weight of the day was finally off your shoulders. You could’ve sworn you heard In-ho say something to you, but you couldn’t stand to be in the same room with him anymore.

You changed and climbed into bed, attempting to calm and distract yourself with your phone. It worked for probably five minutes before your mind inevitably drifted to In-ho, your memories attempting to paint a picture of who he is to you but coming up short. As if he was reading your mind, a text notification from him appeared on your phone.

“We need to talk.”

You sighed, ignoring the text and continuing to scroll.

“I know you’re on your phone.”

Ugh. Rolling your eyes, you attempted to come up with a response. What could you even say? You didn’t want to confront him right now but it was also painful to sit with so much unsaid.

“I’m in the kitchen.”

Fuck. Let’s just get this over with.

You put on your sweater over your nightdress and stepped outside. In-ho was in the kitchen, leaning on the counter, glass of whiskey in hand. He was dressed casually like before, glasses and everything. If that wasn’t enough to make you waver, the way he eyed you as you passed him and poured yourself a glass of wine made you even more weak.

He sighed. “I can tell you’re upset.”

“You’re very observant,” you stated, sipping from your glass.

“It wasn’t my intention to make you feel used.”

“Well, that’s kind of what happens when you try to use someone.”

His jaw clenched before he responded. “I wasn’t trying to use you.”

You scoffed. “What exactly does it mean when you want me one day and you don’t want me the next, then change your mind in your next breath?”

He stayed silent as you continued. “Is that not using me?” You were beginning to get heated. “Who am I supposed to believe, the In-ho that wants me or the In-ho that doesn’t?”

He exhaled loudly. “I was just-”

“You know I do a lot for you, but I can’t do that. It’s not fair.” Your anger was quickly turning to tears that you desperately tried to keep in.

In-ho’s face dropped. He stepped towards you but you turned aside, away from him. You were angry and sad and embarrassed to be like this in front of him.

“Actually, it’s okay. It’s obvious you needed an excuse to keep a distance from me, you don’t have to explain yourself. Just stop changing your mind and confusing me.” Your head hung low as In-ho seemed to hover near you.

His heart broke. He gently held your shoulders, turning you towards him slowly.

“That’s not true.”

Tears silently flowed down your face as you listened.

“I didn’t know he would say that today. I didn’t know that it didn’t matter. I was just…” he sighed. “I was worried it would look bad and then you’d have to leave.”

You sniffled softly, wiping your face, still unable to bear looking up at him.

“I never wanted to keep a distance from you. You have no idea…” He gently caressed your face, wiping away some tears. “I need you to stay. I need you.”

Through teary eyes, you slowly looked up at him, as if you were trying to determine if he was really telling the truth.

He continued. “I thought I was doing the right thing pushing you away, but then I couldn’t stop myself. And now I’ve made you cry. I’m so sorry.” He pulled you close to him, his hand gently caressing the back of your head.

The smell of his cologne and clean clothes flooded your senses. With each word In-ho confessed, you felt your defenses weakening, your body unconsciously melting into his. But a part of you was still so scared this would be fleeting.

“Tell me this is real,” you said softly.

He sighed and held you tighter. “This is real, darling. Ever since I met you…”

He continued as you felt your heart bursting at the seams. “I can’t live without you. Please stay. With me. I don’t care what happens, I don’t care if we have to run away. Just be with me.”

With his final words, you felt an immense weight release itself from your heart. You wrapped your arms around In-ho, nodding into his chest, too overwhelmed to speak. Tears fell once again, but this time out of relief.

He gently held your chin and tilted your head towards him, studying your face before softly kissing you. You immediately softened at the touch of his lips, responding with the same gentleness. He pulled away to wipe the rest of your tears away before leaning in for a deeper, more passionate kiss.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as the kiss became more intense, feeling his arms move to your sides to pull your body closer to his. It was as if he had never touched you before, as if the other night was only a dream and this was real, this was the only thing that mattered anymore.

Your hands found their way into his hair, gently tugging, eliciting a quiet groan from his throat. He roughly grabbed your hips and lifted you on the counter, slotting himself between your legs as they naturally opened up to him. His hand pressed on your lower back, pushing you closer to him.

The kiss was becoming more sloppy and heated as you both became more desperate for each other. His hands moved to your sides and pushed your sweater up and off of you, the revealing neckline of your nightdress now in view. Your back arched towards him, craving his warm touch. He broke from the kiss to look at you, his hands gently massaging your breasts. You could feel the bulge in his pants becoming more prominent, prompting you to grind on him before pulling him into a kiss again.

Kissing him felt like breathing, like swimming to the surface of a deep, raging ocean and finally taking in a breath you’d been holding for far too long. Finally arriving to where you were meant to be.

He picked you up from the counter effortlessly, carrying you to his room as you giggled and laying you on his bed. His lips found yours again, like a lifeline. Your hands wrapped around the hem of his shirt and pulled it off. As you broke the kiss, you opened your eyes to see In-ho, illuminated by the warm light of the lamp in his room. You eyed his body, from his head to his waist, relishing in the new parts of him you could finally see.

He hovered over you, studying your face as you watched him. You seemed to be in a trance, only breaking your thoughts when you noticed him smirking at you. A blush spread across your face as he laughed before leaning down to kiss you. Your embarrassment faded quickly as he trailed his kisses down to your chest, slowly lowering himself to your hips.

He pushed your nightdress up, exposing your underwear. A soft hum left his throat as he spread his hands across your thighs, pushing your legs apart. His eyes ravaged your body, his hands caressing your warm skin.

He leaned in and pressed his face to your clothed core. “Can’t believe we left the lights off,” he huffed as he kissed around your inner thighs. You squirmed delightfully under his touch, your body aching for any sensation he could give.

He quickly pulled your underwear off and pressed his open mouth to your soaking wet core. You nearly yelped at the sudden feeling of his warm tongue tasting you, eagerly swirling around every sensitive nerve he touched. Your hips involuntarily twitched and arched upwards, pressing into him. He groaned loudly and sucked on your clit, increasing the speed of his tongue. The combination of sensations sent a delicious wave of pleasure through your body.

You grabbed his hair and pressed him further on you, chasing the intense pleasure he was giving you. His hand settled under his chin and his fingers began teasing your entrance. You gasped out loud, looking down. The sight of it almost sent you over the edge, beyond anything you’d ever felt before.

“Oh god, please. Please.”

He wanted to tease you, play with you a little, but he couldn’t be bothered. He would do anything you asked in that moment. His fingers instantly entered you, and you moaned loudly. As his fingers pumped into you furiously, your hips bucked underneath him, only focused on chasing the high he was bringing you to. In the next moment you felt your orgasm come crashing down, your entire body nearly convulsing. Pleasure spread intensely from your core down to your legs, throughout your entire being, your mind starting to float above you in sheer bliss.

In-ho released himself from you and grinned, observing your flushed face as you settled down. With one look at In-ho, you felt yourself get worked up again, leaning forward to grab his face and kiss him. He pushed you back and hovered over you again, his hands pushing your dress above and off of you. You caressed his sides and down to the bulge in his sweatpants, your mouth all but watering at feeling his cock in your hand. He groaned into your neck and quickly pushed his pants and underwear down together.

At the sight of his hard cock, you pushed him to his back next to you and leaned down to his waist, preparing to take him in your mouth. He sighed loudly and pulled you back to him, pushing your hips over his.

“Next time, darling. I have to fuck you right now or I’ll lose it.”

Before you could find a response, he lined himself up with your entrance and thrust up into you, immediately groaning at your warmth enveloping him. Despite your orgasm earlier, your body responded to him quickly, indulging in the way he stretched you just enough to not be painful. His cock dragged along your walls deliciously, coaxing a stream of obscene noises from your mouth. In-ho watched you intensely as he pounded into you.

“You missed this, didn’t you?” he huffed below you, soft groans slowly leaving his mouth as he gradually lost more control of himself.

You whimpered, opening your eyes and seeing how he looked at you. The look on his face was beyond feral. With any other person you might’ve been scared at the way he seemed, almost angry, but it just made you melt. You could barely hold yourself up as he fucked you, holding on to your hips for support.

“It’s okay, I know, darling. I know,” he cooed, pulling you to his chest as he continued pumping into you. “I’m gonna make you feel so good. Gonna give you so much of my cum you’ll be filled for days.”

Your walls fluttered around him, moaning uncontrollably at his filthy words.

“You want that, don’t you? Want me to fill you up?”

It was almost becoming too much, you felt yourself almost having an out of body experience. Your mouth let out a stream of moans, your hands clutching to him for dear life. It felt so good, you simultaneously found yourself chasing another orgasm and wishing you could stay in that moment forever.

In-ho quickly grabbed your waist and pushed you to your back, barely stopping his thrusting as he did so, pushing your thighs up and outward. He moved with a deliberate roughness, like he knew he could do whatever he wanted to you. And you knew you’d let him. You couldn’t have been more open to him, more exposed.

His thrusts seemed to quicken and stutter at the same time, and you could feel he was close just as you were. He grabbed your hand and brought it to your clit, growling above you.

“Come on, darling, give it to me and I’ll give you everything.” He grabbed the back of your head and pushed it down, forcing you to watch him fuck you. “Do you want it?”

You cried out, swirling your fingers around your clit, feeling your orgasm approach quickly. “Oh god, fuck… fuck, I need it.”

“I’ll give you every, last…” he huffed above you, his thrusts becoming long and rough, “fucking… drop.”

With a few more intense thrusts, your orgasm exploded inside of you, every nerve ending in your body blooming in pleasure. Your juices gushed out of you, your sensitive flesh savoring the feeling, your body begging for In-ho to release inside of you. He continued thrusting into you, coaxing as much as he could out of you, before letting himself come undone, spilling himself into your aching cunt. He pressed himself unimaginably deep inside you, nearly grinding himself to get deeper. A loud, long guttural groan seemed to release from deep inside his body, the sound alone making you twitch on him.

His breaths slowed and he gently rested his head on your shoulder before laying next to you. You both laid there in silence for a few moments, your emotions coming back to reality. In-ho watched you with adoring eyes. As good as you felt, a part of you still worried about how he would be now.

He seemed to sense what you were thinking and pulled you close to him. You were a little embarrassed, thinking he was doing this just to placate you.

“Your thoughts are so loud sometimes.”

You sighed and hid your head in his shoulder, too exhausted to say anything.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

You peeked up at him to see a slight smile on his face. He glanced at you, and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” He stood up and turned to you, helping you stand up and leading you to the bathroom.

You showered together in silence, In-ho sensing that you were too overwhelmed for words. He cared for you with a touching gentleness, drying you off and helping you get dressed for bed. He led you back to his bed and you settled under the blankets together, cuddling on In-ho’s side. Just like you had been doing when you woke up the other night.

You sighed, finally feeling more relaxed. “You know, sleeping with you is like sleeping with a furnace.”

He laughed comfortably, a sound you rarely ever heard from him. “You seemed to like it the other night. You clung to me almost immediately.”

You softly gasped. Of course your body betrayed you.

He chuckled and rubbed his hand on your back. “I didn’t mind.”

Smiling, you sighed, thinking that despite all the mistakes you made that day, accidentally booking a one bed suite didn’t end up being so bad.

#squid game #squid game fanfic #hwang in-ho #hwang inho #hwang in ho #hwang in-ho x reader #hwang inho x reader #hwang in ho x reader #front man #frontman #front man x reader #frontman x reader #fanfiction #lee byung hun #reader insert

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1427 · 1 year ago

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something to prove

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Every time your mom goes down to the city with Merle she lets Daryl stay behind and watch TV. The night your boyfriend breaks up with you, you decide you have something to prove.

Warnings: Very vaguely implied drug use, age-gap (reader is 20, Daryl is mid30’s), smut, voyeurism/exhibitionism, masturbation (both m & f), idk there’s something else that happens but idk how to tag it (premature ejaculation???), preTWD!Daryl.

Word Count: 3k

A/n: this is a two part story, possibly three? This started out as a step-dad!daryl idea but I reworked it because not everyone’s as big of a pervert as I am. If anyone wants step-dad imagines (au or otherwise for Daryl, or Negan) lmk. 🥵😈

17+ mdni

\\part 2\\

masterlist

“Who are you?” You ask, to the man standing in your house. Well, your moms house, certainly wasn’t his house. He looked like one of your moms friends from the bar.

“Shit, who are you?” He looks at you, more confused than you are. Scared almost.

“Mona’s kid?” You explain, who else would you be?

“Oh, shit. Didn’t know Mona had a kid. She just left you here?” You look at him like he’s still a stranger standing in your living room.

“I’m 20.” You watch as he sighs a little in relief.

“Right…. I’m Daryl. Uh. Her and my brother took a ride down to the city. Didn’t wanna go, she said I could hang here.”

“Of course she did,” you say to yourself with a sigh.

Daryl watches you as you run to the kitchen and grab a snack and run back toward the stairs, “Well. I’ll be in my room.”

“Wait! Uh.. where’s the remote?”

You sigh, with a smile this time, and step backward down the first step. You walk past him and dig your hand into the recliner that’s facing directly in front of the TV, pulling the remote from its hiding spot. As you walk back toward the stairs you put it to his stomach, and he takes it with both hands. “Thanks” you hear him say, and then you’re gone. Running up the stairs to lock yourself in your room.

✨🚬

Daryl and Merle came over a lot after that. You didn’t see too much of them, when you’re mom had company you knew it was best to stay locked in your room. Not like you’d want to be around her company anyway.

Daryl seemed different than Merle. Everytime you did venture out of your room for a snack, or to leave the house to go see your boyfriend, and you had to interact with things outside of your room, Daryl never spoke. Honestly, it seemed to you like he didn’t even want to be there.

And every time your mom and Merle go down to the city, Daryl stays back and watches TV and smokes cigarettes in the living room. Never does anything else.

You start developing a crush. And you know it’s insane because he’s so much older than you, but you can’t help it. You never thought you’d see someone older like that, but to be fair he didn’t look it. He definitely wasn’t as old as your mom. Probably mid 30’s? Probably. You couldn’t ask. And there was something about him. Brooding, quiet, but… safe. He never bothered you, never looked at you too long like most of your moms friends did. He seemed.. sweet.

You start praying they’ll come over, and then you pray that your mom and Merle will leave. Sometimes they’re only gone for half an hour, sometimes they’re gone all night. No matter how long they’re gone, though, you always go down and see Daryl.

You never really talk to him more than a few passing words, even when it becomes a more common occurrence.

Obviously you try to look as good as you can when you do go down there to walk in front of him. You stand awkwardly by the kitchen island, pretending to watch tv, trying to say something. Usually you can’t come up with anything.

You find yourself wearing more and more revealing clothing, trying to get him to look, but you never catch him looking. And, honestly? It frustrates you to no end.

Why won’t he look?

It’s starting to make you a little crazy, multiple times you’d had to stop yourself from coming down in just a towel.

And then your boyfriend breaks up with you. Probably better off, but the night that it happens you lose it. You’re not heartbroken necessarily, but you are pissed. And you feel like you have something to prove. And all of it bubbles up into something you normally would never see yourself doing.

You come downstairs this time in only an oversized teeshirt. No underwear. Its dark, all the lights off, it is 2am, but for some reason you weren’t expecting it. It should make what you have planned even easier. Less awkward.

Instead of going to the kitchen you walk right up to Daryl and put your hand out for the remote. “I wanna watch TV.”

He looks up at you. Finally. And he hands you the remote. “Alrigh’.”

You change the channel to something else, doesn’t matter what as long as it’s not what he was watching. You settle on an old movie, looked just boring enough. You lay down on your stomach in front of where Daryl sat in the armchair, your teeshirt riding just barely up your ass, just enough for Daryl to be distracted by it. To notice it. To ask himself if you weren’t wearing any underwear.

You hear him take a deep breath from behind you and it makes you smile. Finally.

And you stay like that for a while, absentmindedly looking at the TV, not really watching it. Daryl’s watching you through half lidded eyes. Before you’d come downstairs Daryl was a good five minutes from falling asleep in that arm-chair. But now? His heart hammering in his chest, he has to control his breathing in the quiet living room, to not tip you off that you were affecting him so much. He wasn’t sure what you were doing, or if you were even doing it on purpose. But you’re 20, right? Surely… he figures you have to know.

But if you know what you’re doing, than you’re expecting some kind of reaction, and Daryl… can’t. He can’t move. He can hardly think straight. Looking at your bare legs, the little peak of your ass just barely revealing itself from under the fabric. And then you shift your hips and the tee-shirt falls away even more.

It takes everything in him to keep his breathing steady.

“Are you looking?” Your voice cuts through the silent room, making no attempt to turn back and look at him.

“No.” Daryl says, quickly. His brain scrambling over the new information that you definitely, absolutely, undeniably knew what you were doing.

You smile to yourself, the choked sound of his voice told you everything you needed to know. You can practically feel the heat in his cheeks. The tightness in his chest.

You never thought you’d be as into it as you were getting. Him seeing you like this was burning up your core. Slowly at first and then seemingly all at once. You put your head to the floor in a small moment of defeat over your own body, feeling yourself start to drip down your leg. You wonder if he can see it too. If the light of the TV is reflecting off the little strings of your arousal, coating the inside of your thighs, starting to drip down onto the carpet. A small groan escapes your lips as you raise your hips up off the carpet, keeping your shoulders and the rest of your body down to the ground.

You want to show him what he’s doing to you. You want him to see the mess he’d made. So there you are, your ass now completely in the air, only a few feet from where he’s sitting behind you, “Are you looking now?”

This time Daryl doesn’t respond. Because he can’t. His fingers are whiteknuckled on the arm-rests. And he was losing the ability to control his breathing. He was losing control of the ability to even think about breathing. To think at all.

You don’t mind that he didn’t answer, you knew. His ragged breathing spurred you further. You reach down underneath your body, through your legs, and try to spread yourself open for him with two delicate fingers. Your middle finger slipping through your folds, too slick to hold up to friction. Your hand wipes some of it down your thigh, so you can continue what you’re trying to do.

And you can hear his breath hitch in his throat, making a smile bloom on your face. A sick, cocky smile.

You spread yourself for him, before taking two fingers to your clit and drawing small circles around it. You hiss, your hips spasming at the too sensitive feeling of pressure directly on your nerve bundle, but you keep going.

Plunging two fingers deep inside of you, selfishly. This one wasn’t for Daryl, although he liked it. You needed the delicious feeling of something inside of you. Your fingers hook in you, desperately curling over and over again as you mercilessly assault your own g-spot.

The noises coming out of you could send Daryl into a coma. Not just the half-coherent babbles and deep definitely-came-from-your-chest groans. No, the sound of your slick hand squelching against your cunt so perfectly.

You go back and forth like this, between your clit and your walls, until you feel your orgasm start to bubble over. The dull throb of ecstasy climbing into every limb. You almost forget Daryl’s watching as you put your fingers back inside you, three this time, and ride your own hand until your body is shaking, expletives falling out of your mouth before you can catch them.

You lay there, on the floor in a heap, teaching yourself to breathe again. Until you glance back at Daryl. With one hand covering his mouth his expression is unreadable, but his other hand gripping the arm rest tells you everything. And the hard cock pressing up against the zipper of his pants tells even more.

You’re almost embarrassed, but not quite. Standing up from the spot you’d laid down to ‘watch TV’ you silently walk over to him and wipe your hand off on his shirt. Pressing your fingers hard against his chest through the fabric, eliciting a barely audible moan from him.

He watches you walk away, listening as your bare feet pad up the steps and into your room. It takes him all of three seconds to free his cock from his jeans. Pumping himself furiously, unceremoniously, with his face buried in the spot of his shirt where you’d wiped your juices on him.

The smell of you, the taste of you, so fresh and right there. He laps at the spot until it’s soaked with his saliva. He comes in a strangled mess, trying to be quiet, hot white ropes painting his jeans.

After it’s over he curses himself. He leaves before Merle and your mom get back, to go home and change. Wondering to himself what the hell just happened.

✨🚬

For a week you avoid him. He and Merle come over twice, but you stay in your room the whole time. A little too embarrassed to face him so soon after what you’d done. You didn’t regret it, or feel bad, but your normal personality had returned. With nothing more to prove to yourself, or your stupid ex boyfriend. Not bold enough to masturbate in front of older men. Apparently not even bold enough to show your face in front of him.

You wake up one night in a sweat, having another dream about Daryl. In this one he’d had you bent over the kitchen table. Fuck it’s hot in here, you go to open the window but what you really need is water.

You start to make your way downstairs, only to see Daryl. In the faint glow of the television, eyes wide as he meets yours. “Oh. Hi.” You manage to say, awkwardly standing on the last step before nodding at his lack of response, looking down trying to hide your blush.

You walk to the kitchen silently, getting some water for yourself. Feeling unbelievably uncomfortable, you wanted to be clever. To be coy and cute and everything you were the other night, but the whole thing is making you so nervous you can’t think straight. You just want to get back upstairs before you say something stupid. Before you embarrass yourself by not being that person.

You down a cup of water quickly and toss it into the sink before heading back for your room.

You’re passing in front of the TV when Daryl asks you, “Do you want the remote?”

One simple question, your head spins. You knew what he meant. What he was really saying. ‘Do it again’.

You look over at him, remote on his knee, and you nod. Walking over to him, you pick up the remote from where it sat, but you let your fingers graze all the way up his leg, over the tight bulge in his pants. “Christ.” He says, through gritted teeth.

You smile, that same cocky smile, and take your position down on the ground in front of him. You take your time, at first you really are watching TV. Letting Daryl ache for it. Letting him question if you understood what he’d meant.

He’d been wondering when he was going to see you next, if you’d do it again. If you’d do more. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was definitely the hottest thing a girl had ever done for him. Not like he had all that much experience with women, but he had some. None of it quite like that. Nothing that was so burned into his memory that if he closed his eyes he could still taste you. Still hear those explicit noises coming off your body.

He needed more. He needed to watch you again.

He waits, with baited breath, for you to touch yourself. It feels like it’s taking forever. There’s something about you just down there in front of him, though. It feels like he’s almost able to get off on just that.

Eventually you spread your legs a little bit at a time. Raising your hips again, you play with yourself in front of him like you did before, taking more time. Teasing him.

You slide the top half of your body, flush with the ground, over to the side a little so you can look back at him. Fuck. He’s just staring. Mouth open, eyes half closed, fingers holding a cigarette that he occasionally drags. Just watching. Never taking his eyes off of you. Occasionally he looks back up to your face, all contorted in pleasure, but for the most part he can’t take his eyes off of what your fingers are doing. The light shimmering over every wet part of you.

You sit up for just a second to bring the teeshirt off your body and throwing it to the side. Resuming your position, now completely naked. Vulnerable. You look at him with another smile, his expression is pained.

Daryl’s trying so hard to keep himself in control. To not touch himself until you’re out of the room, that would be too much, right? He’s convinced himself that there’s no way he can pull his cock out in front of you. He’s so much older, even if you’re 20. Even if you’re in front of him, doing this. Pretty, delicate, messy pussy spread out for him. Begging for him. He can’t. He’s got to control himself. Plus, it’s too embarrassing. You’re so confident and languid with your movements, he’s sure if you saw him like the strangled mess he was the other night that you’d run out of the room immediatly.

He’s wrong, but it doesn’t matter to you. Of course you want him, and of course you’d let him slither right in behind you and claim any hole he wanted. You would love to see him lose control and touch himself, even if it was something you’d never seen a man do before. Of course you would. But the feeling of his eyes burned into you is so exquisite on its own.

Daryl’s losing his fucking mind, though. You’re doing it all different than last time. Slower, hotter. Grabbing at your tits with your other hand. Fuck. His head is dizzy, he feels like he’s going to pass the fuck out. And then you start riding your hand again. But not like last time, last time your fingers were hooked into you so tight that Daryl silently begged for you to just fuck yoursef with your fingers instead. He wanted to watch your lips spread out and over them. Wanted to watch you fill and empty your cunt with your two fingers over and over, and now that’s exactly what you’re doing.

Daryl’s chewing on his thumb, anything to keep his hands away from himself. Every time you pump your fingers inside he feels his hardened length spasm. So tight into his pants, the friction actually starts to feel good.

You add another finger, and then another. It’s too much for Daryl, who was again silently begging you to do that too. To stretch that little pussy even more for him. Before he can even comprehend what’s happening, his vision goes white. Daryl’s cock spasms violently, cum coating the inside of his pants. His thumb is bleeding from where he’d bit down on it, and he’s never been more fucking embarrassed in his life. Never been more surprised, confused, turned on.

He watches as you ride out your high, following with your own earth shattering orgasm only a few moments later. He looks down to you to see if you had any idea of what had happened, but you don’t.

You have no idea he just came in his pants without even touching himself. Just from watching you.

pt 2

a/n : thanks to @norman-fucking-reedus for helping me with some ideassss for this 💕🤘🏻

#daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x female reader

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