#asking of something in return just seems greedy

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

pls elaborate more abt unrequited love when ur not sleepy anymore ... if u want ...

hello sweet anon thank you for indulging me ……. i am still sleepy but unrequited love comes first 🫡

i just don’t think unrequited love is very sad. like at all. and i dislike the idea that love doesn’t have value unless you’re getting something back, or unless it leads to something — just the act of loving someone makes me happy and the idea of someone loving you without expecting anything in return is really sweet, right? just seeing you shine makes them happy. there are some blorbos that i think would be more than content to love you from afar, to just be in your life forever, and that’s the height of romance to Me <3 being allowed to simply love you is enough for them, or even preferable (coughgojosatorucough)

[feeder86]

Glorious

“Oh, here he comes,” nodded Anna towards the entrance door. “Quarter to eight every Friday night, without fail!”

Bobby turned his head to gaze excitedly towards their regular customer; his personal favorite since he had started working at this buffet place back in September. Although he didn’t know the guy’s name, he knew enough to recognise him as one of the college football players; eye-wateringly tall and incredibly muscular, despite only being nineteen. Underneath his large arm was yet another new girl, short and petite beside him. She’d dressed up well, clearly hoping to impress him, much like all the others. Yet Bobby had never seen this guy ever come here on a second date with the same person, and this girl was about to experience why that was.

It was often said that within the four walls of this all-you-can-eat restaurant, the staff would see the absolute worst traits of humanity. After seating them and serving the drinks, the workers watched from afar as the football player set to his mission of devouring plate after plate, hardly making any conversation at all. It was the same routine every week; the girls would always start off looking so smitten and then gradually become quite surprised at how much focus their date had in gorging himself like some sort of competitive eater. They would often go quiet during the middle part of the meal, merely watching in surprise at first, followed by a distinct glare of disgust at their date. One by one, folks from the surrounding tables would start to notice and nudge the others they were seated with to look across. Such disdain was shared by Bobby’s colleagues, hardly able to look as the guy stuffed and packed himself as hard as he could. Sure, there were plenty of older, fat folks who came in and tried to do this too, gaming the system by eating as much as they could. Yet, Bobby hadn’t witnessed anyone capable of eating as much as the handsome guy seated now. 

Bobby had always thought himself strange and quirky, with a somewhat alternative taste in guys. However, he had never considered himself so different to those around him than when he was watching the handsome guy eating. The indulgence, gluttony and greed, it seemed to him like the most masculine and arousing thing he had ever seen. So whilst others tutted and grumbled in disapproval, he was actually struggling to hide how incredibly turned on he was at the sight.

“Seven, eight, nine… that’s ten full plates this evening!” Bobby smirked, attending to their table. “One more and you’d have the house record!” he joked, stacking them all up on his forearm.

The guy grinned, leaning back and rubbing his bloated midsection. “Well, in that case…” he chuckled, beginning to get himself up for one final round.

“Matt, please don’t!” called out his date reaching across to his large hand. “You can’t go up again. It’s embarrassing!” She turned to Bobby instead. “Can we just have the check, please?”

Bobby looked a little confused, knowing the glutton’s routine by now. “But you’ve not had any of the desserts yet,” he reminded them.

“Exactly!” nodded Matt, smirking as he got up to fetch some more food for himself.

Huffing in annoyance, the girl dipped her hands into her purse and threw a few notes on the table before storming off. Bobby stood there awkwardly, wondering whether he should say something to make her stay. After taking the plates, he returned to the table just as Matt was making his way back with his eleventh plate of food.

“She’s really gone already?” he asked Bobby; surprised but not seeming overly offended.

“Her loss!” Bobby smiled consolingly, noticing that Matt had stacked this final plate higher than any of the others; his muscular stomach bloating up a treat. “Would you like another beer?”

Already chewing, the greedy man nodded and grunted in agreement, hunched over and eagerly spotting the cash that had been left on the table; more than enough to pay for his date’s meal, as well as a few drinks for himself. 

“You’re not getting tired, are you?” Bobby teased, returning to the table moments later with the beer, to see Matt holding his stretched-out stomach. “I’ve yet to see you not clear a plate.”

Matt wiped a little sweat off his brow and chuckled at his endeavor. “Oh, don’t you worry,” he grinned. “I’ll finish it. Then I’m going to hit the ice cream!”

“Would you like me to fetch you some?” Bobby asked, surprising even himself at his eagerness. 

Matt looked up at him and smiled. He knew just as well as any of the customers that the people who worked here didn’t collect food items for their patrons. “Sure!” he cried, delighted. “But don’t skimp on the…”

“Chocolate sauce and brownie pieces,” Bobby shot back, chuckling. “It’s not my first time serving your table,” he joked, setting straight off.

There was an excited ball of energy swirling inside Bobby’s lungs as he began dispensing the ice cream. All of this would soon be inside that beautiful, greedy guy’s body. He wanted to make it look the best that it could: enticing and indulgent.

“Ooo! I like the layering!” Matt marvelled as he handed over his now empty plate and exchanged it for the sundae that had been made for him.

“We get a lot of folks who like their ice cream in here. I’ve learned a thing or two,” Bobby smiled back, lingering to see the man take his first spoonful. His admiration seemed to shine through; being so short and slender himself, he couldn’t help looking up to these big, greedy guys with complete awe.

Despite being alone at his table now, Matt gorged himself happily, getting up again and again for multiple other desserts. Bobby felt elated that he had at last developed a rapport with the guy he had been crushing on for so long now. Continuing to clear plates and bowls, jokingly keep count with him.

“You’d better get him out of here or he’s going to throw up,” the manager, Jessica, suddenly whispered to Bobby.

“He’s fine,” Bobby shot back. He looked across at that perfect, gluttonous specimen, knowing that he could handle it. Even if the worst did happen and he threw up, what did it matter to him? Bobby was finishing in five minutes anyway.

“Get him the check and move him out,” Jessica growled uncompromisingly, rather concerned that Bobby didn’t share her justified worries. 

Sighing, Bobby did as he was told, apologising to Matt as he went over to him and gave him the usual line about the time allocated to the tables and the need for him to finish up. “Probably for the best,” Matt grunted, looking stretched out and stuffed. He paid up, huffing and groaning from the tightness. Then, in his own time, he stood up to leave, eyes watching him all the way to the exit as he clutched his now clearly distended stomach.

Bobby grabbed his jacket, happy to finish early and avoid the clean up, then headed out into the chilly night. He hadn’t made it out of the car park when a horn sounded and lights flashed from a truck that suddenly pulled up alongside him. “You heading back up to the campus?” asked Matt, sliding down his window to offer a lift.

It was a chilly night. Surprised, but nodding keenly, Bobby gratefully accepted the offer, hopping around to the passenger side. He’d seen this huge truck parked up on campus so many times, but he had always assumed it belonged to one of the guys in security. It didn’t seem like a reasonable vehicle for a nineteen year old second year student to be driving around in, yet it also appeared o suit Matt perfectly: big, bold and thirsty, just like him.

“Excuse the mess,” Matt chuckled as Bobby’s foot kicked a large pile of take out cartons and boxes filling up the footwell. “I meant to clean that out before.”

“It’s okay,” Bobby smiled back, buckling himself in and trying not to stare at the bloated stomach on the guy that was turning him on so much. There was an arousing, masculine musk inside the truck, with so many clear indications of Matt’s great appetite for food.

“So, how did I do?” Matt asked, starting to drive out onto the road. It was obvious what he was referring to, seeming pumped and proud of himself for how insanely he had attacked the buffet.

“My manager was getting pretty worried,” Bobby admitted, getting a sense that it was exactly the type of thing Matt wanted to hear.

Matt laughed heartily, clearly delighted. “I thought as much,” he nodded. “She kept on looking at me. And not in a good way!”

“We get a few folks like you who come in, clearly knowing how to play it. They avoid the breads and the pasta that they know will fill them up too fast, and they always eat so much that there is no hope of the restaurant turning a profit. You seem to have an instinctive knowledge of which items are the most expensive for us to serve up as well.”

Again, Matt laughed, his face a picture of delight. He appeared to like being told how clever he was, and asked Bobby to elaborate on several of his points. Even as they parked up on the campus a few minutes later, Matt was still questioning Bobby on the ins and outs of the buffet and how best to get way more than his money’s worth.

“Of course, that all depends on whether you could eat that much,” Bobby rambled on, having just listed the ten best things to consume if Matt wanted to ensure he made the most of his money. “Not many people can. But it’s always fun when there’s a big, greedy guy in and he’s properly going for it.”

There was a pumped energy to Matt as he listened, taking in every word like it was the most thrilling conversation of his life. “And what do those types of guys look like?” he asked excitedly. “Do you spot them as soon as they come in?”

Bobby hummed as he thought how best to answer the question. “You can usually identify them pretty easily. They’re generally pretty massive, carrying fairly enormous guts on them. We don’t often get the more athletic types, like you, who can eat that much. That’s partly why you stand out so clearly. Do you do some competitive eating contests or something? You’re actually the best I’ve ever seen.”

“The trick is to work on stretching out your stomach,” Matt replied enthusiastically, turning a little to face Bobby better. “I’ve been working on some exercises for weeks and I pop a couple of these before a meal,” he stated, passing Bobby a small bottle of what seemed to be appetite enhancers.

“I’ve seen this brand before,” Bobby nodded, obvioudly surprising Matt that he knew anything at all about appetite stimulants. “Do they work? I’ve heard conflicting things about them.”

Matt’s eyes were practically dancing now, his mouth wide in a smile as he nodded ecstatically. “Yeah, I read the same things!” he smiled in delight, turning even more to face Bobby better. “But I still had to give them a go. I’m a greedy guy anyway, so I’m not sure if the effect is purely psychological,” he chuckled, seemingly captivated by Bobby and everything that came out of his mouth.

“There’s another brand…” Bobby tried to think. “I know it only came out recently, but…”

All at once, Matt was upon him; his lips crashing into Bobby’s as he took him in a deep kiss, right there in the truck. They stayed that way for several moments, coming out for a brief pause, before heading straight back in. Upon the second wave of kisses, hands began to explore bodies and Matt grabbed one of Bobby’s wrists, placing his hand very directly on the bloated, swollen stomach that had been created that night. As Bobby began to rub, the guy moaned with pleasure; his kisses becoming even more manic. He hopped out of the truck, heading back into the halls and ushering for Bobby to follow him. Then off they went up the stairs to Matt’s bedroom, where they stripped and made each other climax until they were contentedly sleeping, side by side.

At some point in the early hours, Bobby began to feel a little insecure. He’d done this before; been caught up in a romantic session with a supposedly ‘straight’ guy and then ended up being ignored by them ever since. This whole thing with Matt would undoubtedly end the same way when the stud woke up and realised that he wasn’t sharing a bed with the hot girl he had taken out for dinner the night before, but rather some comparitively weedy, nerdy guy from across the campus. Bobby hadn’t realised just how much shorter than Matt he was until they had walked up to his room; his body slender and little more than slightly toned. Matt, on the other hand, was a gorgeous, large hunk; his long, hairy legs sticking out of the bed as he slept, without a need for the covers over his powerful body that pumped out a ridiculous amount of heat. Bobby couldn’t bear to see the look of regret on Matt’s face the next morning. Last night had been the best experience of his life so far, so why not bottle it and keep it safe, without the inevitably painful after-taste?

“Hey, Bobby! Can I have a word?” Matt called out a couple of days later, running to catch up as he saw him heading towards a class with a couple of his friends.

Bobby’s friends looked upwards at the towering hunk and then back to Bobby. How did this hunky guy know Bobby? In what possible circumstances could such opposing personalities have crossed paths? Yet, their curiosity would have to wait as Bobby looked at them both, sending them on and promising to catch them up.

“You snuck out without saying goodbye on Friday night,” Matt mumbled, sounding more than a little confused. “Did I do something wrong?”

“I just didn’t think you’d want me there in the morning,” Bobby replied. “I didn’t want you to have to stress, sneaking me out of your building.”

“Sneak you out?” Matt asked, getting closer to Bobby, his fingertips stroking Bobby’s arms. “I’ve never felt better connected to anyone in my entire life than I did on Friday night.”

Bobby’s heart skipped a beat. Was this giant, handsome stud really saying this to him? “I wasn’t sure that you would still feel the same way in the morning,” he replied; the legacy of being spurned by several guys resonating through his low tones. But as Matt’s large hand pulled up his chin, he stared hard into the eyes of the man he knew he could fall pathetically in love with. Then, as the towering man stooped and kissed him right there on the busy campus, Bobby did not resist.

“Come on,” Matt smiled sweetly, pulling Bobby’s hand. “I’ll drive you to your class.”

Bobby thought it best not to go empty-handed when he went over to Matt’s room that night. In a bag, he carried a pack of beers his cousin had bought him. Beer had always tasted disgusting to Bobby, which was why they had been sitting unused under his bed for months. He’d been told that they were watching a movie and, not knowing which snacks Matt would prefer, he’d brought a selection: popcorn, honey-glazed nuts, ice cream and cookies. After kissing him sweetly upon his arrival, Matt dug through the bag greedily, ripping the bag of nuts open immediately and inspecting the nutritional information on the back. “There’re almost six hundred calories in this bag alone!” he smiled excitedly.

Concentrating on the movie was not easy. Slurping on the beers, rummaging through the popcorn, cookies and nuts, Matt was more than a distraction. He’d poured the now runny ice cream into a vast novelty beer tankard that he had on his shelf and began sipping from it.

“Do you eat like this all the time?” Bobby asked, unable to hide the arousal in his voice as he watched the greedy boy in action.

Continuing to chomp, the handsome man grinned at him. “I try to,” he nodded.

“Are we still going to order in pizza afterwards as well?” Bobby asked, ignoring the movie now and shifting himself so that he was sitting on Matt’s lap, too aroused to ignore the man’s grotesque appetite anymore.

Smiling at the attention, Matt nodded. “Of course we are,” he replied, patting his muscular stomach which was already bloating from the finished ice cream. “I want to show you exactly how much I can eat.”

The pair kissed and fondled each other as the movie played on, ignored entirely. With the snacks depleted and two full beers down Matt’s throat, the guy was as hard as they came, moaning loudly with every slight movement of Bobby’s hand as it found its way into his underwear. Twice they came before the pizza arrived that night, and twice afterwards, as Matt gorged himself on slice after slice, until his stomach had blown up into a monstrous ball, packed to the max.

To say that people had been surprised by the new pairing would be a considerable understatement. To the eye, such a contrasting couple could never work. Matt was so tall, athletic, broad and muscular, yet Bobby was shorter than even the average guy; with a slight build, slender waist and considerably greater academic aspirations. It was almost frustrating how quickly they were written off by some people as being doomed to fail. With such stark hobbies and interests, they couldn’t possibly have enough in common to make it more than a few weeks. But, why? Was it because they were both guys? Did people assume that a gay couple needed to match on many more different levels, not least their appearance? No one batted an eyelid with straight couples when, like Matt and Bobby, one person was obsessed with watching sports and the other disliked it intensely.

A couple of months into their new relationship, the two lovers had booked themselves into a motel after travelling quite some distance for Matt to complete a food challenge at a restaurant he had long admired from afar. The insane portions of the food challenge had both frightened and thrilled them, wondering whether Matt had it in him to defeat it all and get his picture up on the ‘Wall of Fame’. It had sparked conversations that had aroused them both for weeks, thinking of ways to develop Matt’s appetite even further and increase his already startling capacity.

When the day had finally arrived, Matt had barely been able to shake off his erection, fueled by both nerves and anticipation. Bobby had been dutifully sitting at the table the entire time, sometimes rubbing his knee supportively. And, whilst Matt didn’t get the record time, he did complete the task with surprising efficiency, smiling proudly as he posed, bloated belly out, alongside the restaurant owner for his picture to go up on the wall. Bobby had provided him the big, sloppy blow job he had promised him and the pair talked excitedly about the next challenges well into the night.

The next morning, Matt had woken up feeling incredibly turned on still. Bobby had smiled contentedly as the large man fondled him to wake up and take it for him, agreeing without any hesitation to roll over and let the big man have some fun with him. He watched as Matt stood up at the side of the bed, ready to feed his substantial erection into his eager butt, when a curious sight caught his attention in the mirror positioned to the side of the bed.

“Are you still bloated?” Bobby asked, staring hard at Matt’s shape.

“No, I feel fine,” Matt replied, excitedly lubricating his hardness up.

“Well then, you’ve definitely gained a few pounds,” Bobby replied, smirking. “Your sides look pretty puffy. You could almost call them love handles!” he laughed.

Matt immediately turned his attention to the mirror, lifting his arms up and feeling the skin with a solitary finger. “Fuck!” he cried out in surprise; his abs barely holding on as an undeniable softness began to invade his core. He pressed himself into his boyfriend, gyrating his hips as he continued to study his reflection in the mirror. “I’m actually looking fucking doughy!” he observed, watching the faint flutter in his middle.

“My big, greedy boy!” Bobby moaned back, pushing his small butt into his lover’s groin.

“Mmm! Yeah!” Matt moaned back, pounding him harder, fascinated by the reflection in the mirror. “Greedy boys shouldn’t have abs, should they?” he asked, clearly turning himself on. “This is all that full-fat milk you’ve been getting me to drink to stretch out my stomach for the challenge, isn’t it?”

Bobby moaned with pleasure. “Maybe,” he replied coyly back. Matt had always been a big-eater, but he had never been consistently overdoing it every single day until they had been training him up for the food challenge. The man pounded harder, holding his arm back like a porn star so that he could still get a good view of his body in the mirror, climaxing with a satisfied sigh in remarkable speed, studying his own reflection.

“So, what’s this?” asked Pete, Matt’s cousin, poking him in the stomach that summer. “All that eating finally catching up to you?” he teased the strapping guy.

Matt grinned back and Bobby’s eyes flashed with delight. Despite the subtle paunch that was slowly emerging on Matt, not a single person had commented on it until now. For the whole two weeks that Matt had stayed with Bobby’s family, the guy’s insane eating went unchallenged. Even Matt’s own wholesome, polite family seemed unwilling to pull up their boy on how much he was overdoing it.

“You think so?” Matt asked, pulling up his t-shirt to give his similarly aged cousin a look at the swollen midsection, where his abs had recently been obliterated and replaced by a distinctly pudgy stomach. He leaned heavily forward, letting the new chub form two distinct fat rolls, one of which draped gently over his waistband.

“Jeez!” Pete exclaimed, watching the display with fascination until Matt stood back upright again and covered himself up. “I’ve gotta say though, it’s about time!” he smirked, looking at Bobby as he was about to recall a story from their past. “Matty always used to follow me home after school and have dinner with my folks. Then he’d go back to his own house and have dinner there as well. His parents had no idea!” he laughed.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Bobby chuckled back, looking adoringly up at his lover.

“How long did you get away with that for?” Pete asked Matt now. “Two years?”

“Almost three!” Matt shot back proudly. “I think it’s the reason why I grew so tall.”

Pete rolled his eyes at his cousin’s complete lack of shame. “Well, these days, you won’t be growing upwards with too much food… only outwards!! You’ll need to watch this one, Bobby,” Pete joked. “Give him an inch and he takes a mile.”

“Oh, I think I’ve got the measure of him!” Bobby smiled up at his large lover.

Pete looked from one to the other, seeming to sense how intense their affection for one another was. Within a month, Matt had dropped the L-bomb. Without a hint of embarrassment, Matt never worried about holding his hand in public, nor being openly affectionate in front of anyone.

Inviting Pete along for lunch with them had been a genius move. He’d been startled by Matt’s even more extreme appetite and hadn’t held back in saying so. By the end of the meal, he’d poked and prodded his cousin’s extremely distended gut, hardly believing that he was the same man. Such comments never failed to thrill Bobby and Matt, neither of them truly able to contemplate how lucky they were to have found someone who got such a buzz from something so outwardly unusual.

“Oh my goodness!” Bobby proclaimed, heading back into his dorm room after a shift at the restaurant a few weeks later. He kissed Matt, who was sitting up in his bed and then stepped back to take off his jacket. “We had such a pig in tonight!”

Matt, who usually liked to hang out in Bobby’s room because of the large container of snacks Bobby kept in for him, sat up more with interest; his hand still half inside the giant bag of potato chips he was feeding himself. “Oh, yeah?” he smirked. “Tell me more!”

“He hit the meats as soon as he came in, just like you do,” Bobby began to explain. “But he just kept going at it, again and again. His girlfriend was with him and she did not approve at all! It was so funny!”

“Same technique as me, huh?” Matt smiled, swinging his long legs out of the bed to sit upright. He reached out and grabbed Bobby’s slender hips, pulling him in. Then, with one large hand, he rubbed Bobby’s groin until a distinct hardness burst into life. “Was he big too?”

“Oh, absolutely!” Bobby sighed, enjoying being touched. He felt his belt being upstrapped and Matt’s hand reaching in to pull his shaft out and stroke it with more purpose.

Gluttony had always been a turn on of Matt’s, and the man took exceptional pleasure in trying to draw out such kinks from Bobby too. “Tell me what he looked like,” Matt requested, stimulating his lover slowly and purposefully.

“About 400lbs,” Bobby replied, delighted to have such attention thrust upon him.

Matt smiled excitedly. “A very big, greedy boy then!” he nodded encouragingly, knowing how aroused such talk could get his boyfriend. “Was his belly nice and round and full?”

Bobby moaned. He wasn’t going to take long to climax tonight. He was already trying to breathe and slow things down. However, with his free hand, Matt was already grabbing a thick wedge of the new belly fat that had destroyed the jock’s previous abs, looking up to Bobby in the hope that was going to get off to it.

“A beautiful belly,” Bobby agreed, no longer sure whether he was talking about the guy in the restaurant, or his own boyfriend. Either way, he came not long afterwards, shooting straight over Matt’s naked torso, where the guy pushed out his stomach as far as it would go, smiling proudly.

Despite Matt’s extreme eating, he still remained a fierce force on the football team. The extra weight had broadened his handsome glutes out and developed a nicely overstuffed look to his paunchy stomach. However, despite the initial hesitations, Matt’s coach had been simply delighted by the impact it was having on the games they played. Matt hit harder, charged through the lines and easily threw off the other guys. After a game, Matt was grinning proudly for days as his status around the campus only seemed to increase. Sure, he wasn’t built for speed like he used to be, and he wasn’t as much of a pretty-boy as some of the new guys in first year; but he was an absolute beast on the field, quickly turning into a legend.

The lovestruck couple shared many presents with each other that holiday period, but none stuck out quite so much as Bobby’s tongue-in-cheek gift of 5XL underwear to Matt. The guy had laughed when he saw them and his eyes widened as he pulled them out of the box and unfolded them. “So this is what the real greedy boys are wearing these days?” he asked, sitting across from his petite lover and imagining being large enough to one day fill them. The pair kissed, both of them inexplicably aroused. Matt moaned and rubbed the back of Bobby’s head as the guy went down between his legs and began to suck him off; a full day of gorging, burping and snide remarks from family ahead.

Slowly but surely, Matt continued to quietly pack on a considerable amount of pure fat. The tight waistband of his underwear and sweatshorts dug unflatteringly into his flesh, carving up his huge glutes and the significant back fat created from his love handles. After the final summer break before fourth year, Matt’s coach had at last tried to reel him back in, proclaiming that Matt would be cut from the team if he didn’t lose at least fifteen pounds before the end of November. However, by the time that deadline arrived, Matt had gone out of his way to ensure that he’d packed on at least another thirty pounds instead.

“Too fat and greedy to play football!” Matt had declared proudly, stripping his shirt from his body, just as he always did when he made it into Bobby’s room.

“Your coach actually did it?” Bobby asked; his eyes twinkling with the same mischief as could be seen in Matt’s eyes.

“He sure did!” Matt grinned as his boyfriend launched into a sideways hug that fully emphasised the huge width of his body. “No more football for this guy! It’s official: you’re no longer dating one of the jocks!”

“No more training sessions, no more games!” Bobby added, guiding his huge boy into the mirror so that he could better appreciate the vast contrast between their extraordinary bodies: Bobby’s short and slender 125lb physique pressing up against the vast, broad and bloated frame of a 370lb Matt.

Matt chuckled and kissed his kinky lover appreciatively. “You’re finally going to get the greedy, overfed and under-exercised lover of your dreams!” he declared proudly.

Bobby nodded back excitedly, pulling his fat boyfriend into the creaking bed. They both knew then that this was the start of something very enticing indeed.

After graduating, the two boys soon settled into a nice apartment in the city, deciding that they could make a good go of things, even on the meagre salaries of their entry-level jobs. It had been a focus of theirs for years, picking up as many different types of experience that would make them immediately employable, above and beyond the hundreds of other graduates that were pumped out of the college each year. Simply maintaining Matt’s 410lb weight had been a struggle in those early days, and the fantasies they had both had about Matt outgrowing his work pants within a few short weeks had failed to materialise for over an entire year. However, even without the gains, the guy’s body still seemed to be going through a transitional period, becoming softer and more plush with every passing month. They’d save up and hit the buffet, or drive out to somewhere with a disgustingly massive eating challenge, where Matt could have his increasingly chubby face plastered across yet another ‘Wall of Fame’ in the restaurant. 

Once Matt did begin growing consistantly again, he did so with relish. Pure, fresh blubber spread itself across a rounded, jiggling stomach, swelling and sagging the nipples, as well as creating the most extraordinary double chin that Bobby had ever seen. His face had swollen up with large, puffy cheeks, with Matt refusing to quit shaving, nor attempt to hide any of it from view. Like a final surrender, his body was at last gaining in a way that it had simply refused to do in the past. New, exciting considerations needed to be made: stronger chairs, double plane seats, larger showers, seatbelt extensions.

“Heh! Look at these!” Matt chuckled, picking up a pair of Bobby’s underwear as the guy briefly rested a pile of fresh laundry on the couch whilst he attended to something else. The large, spherical man draped them over his large gut, hardly believing the tiny size. “Are these really what you wear?” he laughed again. “I don’t think I could even fit my arm in these!” he stated with complete pride; taking for granted the extreme size of the clothing that he now needed to purchase in order to cover up his gigantic body.

“That’s because you’re the one with such a good appetite!” Bobby smiled back, always enjoying the striking contrast between them both. He went over to his lover, perching himself on the very end of Matt’s knee and leaned into the large stomach so that he could kiss Matt sweetly on his lips, whilst simultaneously rubbing that giant stomach of his. Even after all these years, he really couldn’t believe that such a gluttonous specimen was all his; the epitome of the type of guys he lusted after all those years ago when he had worked in the all-you-can-eat restaurant.

Matt moaned in appreciation of being worshipped like this, knowing full well that his lover would never hold him back from his determination to consume all the food that he would ever want. “Let’s get married!” he declared, not for the first time.

Bobby sat up a little and rolled his eyes. They had so many things they were saving up for; getting their deposit together for the house they now owned had taken them months of pure financial pain. Then there was the inevitably long list of repairs and maintenance that came along with house ownership. “We can’t afford it,” he sighed unhappily.

“Sure we can,” Matt shrugged. “We just hold back on some of the other things we wanted to do for a little while.” He pulled Bobby in to kiss him sweetly once more. “I’m so unbelievably happy. I just want to show the entire world.”

Bobby smiled back, returning the sentiment, despite his unrelentingly practical head that couldn’t commit to the idea of paying out for a wedding anytime soon.

“Back when I realised all this eating was a thing for me,” Matt began, rubbing the vast, gigantic stomach on himself, “I always thought that it was going to be the biggest problem I would ever face in life.” He looked deeply in Bobby’s eyes. “Once I realised how extreme my appetite was and how much I got off to overindulging, I thought the only thing I could ever hope for was to find someone who would just put up with me; anyone at all! I never imagined, in my wildest dreams, that I would find someone who would love me like you do; someone who would let my great appetite show in the way that you do. I’m absolutely the man I’m supposed to be,” he smiled, holding a plentiful wedge of stomach fat in his large hand, “and it’s all because I found you!”

Accepting another kiss, Bobby sighed with contentment. Matt had always been the sweetest guy he had ever met. He expressed his own adoration and gratitude at finding the love of his life whilst serving a table at work, of all places! Everything they both felt was absolutely true: they were completely made for each other.

“Okay,” Bobby nodded. “Let’s do it,” he smiled excitedly, allowing himself to picture a wedding day for the first time. “Let’s get married!”

“You mean it?” Matt beamed back, holding Bobby tightly as he realised that he was serious. “This is incredible!” he blasted. “If only we had some champagne that we could pop right now,” he chuckled, overwhelmed with delight.

“How about I fetch you a tub of ice cream instead?” Bobby joked back, patting his fiance's humongous stomach.

Matt grinned, nodding with approval. “Sure,” he smiled. “I guess that will do instead,” he chuckled, sitting back once more and sighing with complete contentment: the life he had always dreamed of. The perfect life for both of them.

[joelscurls]

I wanna show you off

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 4.1k

summary: The women who live in your building aren't subtle in their hatred for you — or their affection for your boyfriend, Joel. You decide to set them straight.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, porn with plot, no outbreak, established relationship, implied age gap, horrible neighbors, general cattiness, all the ladies want Joel, alcohol consumption, fluff, explicit smut, possessive!reader, exhibitionism, dirty talk, oral (m receiving), facefucking, unprotected piv, creampie, one (1) spank, use of pet names (baby, angel, darlin', etc.), I think that's all? lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: idk what happened. I saw one too many tiktok edits set to the song agora hills by doja cat and blacked out. anyway, enjoy!

If it weren’t for your rent-controlled apartment with a perfect view of the downtown skyline, you would’ve moved out of your building by now.

Your neighbors don’t like you. You’re certain of it. You can tell by the way the ladies stick their noses up at you in the elevator and whisper to each other the second they think you’re out of earshot.

It had started, you suspect, because of your age. You’re a lot younger than all of the other residents here, your apartment left to you by your grandmother after she passed away.

The building is prime real estate, situated in the heart of one of the city’s most desirable neighborhoods. Most of the people who live here have done so for ten, twenty, even thirty years. And it seems that time has festered a sort of social hierarchy: one which places you at the very bottom.

You shouldn’t care. And you hadn’t, for a while. But their eyes have started to feel like daggers, pointed directly at you at all times, and you feel as if you can’t even enter the building without judgment.

You’re not a bad neighbor. You’re not. You’d learned through living in a dormitory in college how thin shared walls can be, and, as a result, the proper volume at which to keep your music; how you should always be cautious to not let your door slam closed on the way in; that you should never vacuum after eight pm or before eight am.

You never leave trash in the hallway, and you park your car only in your allotted spot, despite the fact that it’s the farthest away from the building.

Even so, the lack of weathering in your face makes them look at you like you’re less, like you’re a greedy little thing who has taken something she isn’t worthy of.

It’s the same way they look at you when they see you with your boyfriend, Joel, for the first time.

They leer when you walk into the foyer, hand-in-hand with an older man. He’s handsome, rugged, something out of Nicholas Sparks novel. And you’re you.

Joel thinks you’re being paranoid at first, says they couldn’t possibly hate such a sweet, friendly girl. The girl he loves so damn much. But it doesn’t take long for him to notice it too: the glares, the scoffs, the misplaced judgment — never set in his direction, only ever yours.

One Sunday afternoon, as he sits on your couch watching the Cowboys game with a sweating bottle of beer in his hand, you step out to grab your mail. You’re close to tears when you return, flinging the door open, envelopes slipping from your trembling fingers. 

He leaps up as soon as he catches sight of your face. Your expression is stuck somewhere between sadness and rage, bottom lip tucked between your teeth so firmly he worries you’ll draw blood.

“I hate them,” you sob as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you against his broad chest. You’re wetting his shirt, the one he just bought the other day. But he won’t let you lift your head. If anything, he holds you tighter.

“Wanna tell me what happened, darlin?” he asks, leading you toward the couch. You sit down together, your body still wrapped in his, and you groan.

“It’s stupid.” Your voice is muffled by cotton. He loosens his grip on you only enough to let you turn your face. “I was getting my mail, and they were down in the lobby,” you sniff. “The woman who lives right next door – the one with the outdated perm, and the one across the hall with the yippy little dog.”

“Mhm,” Joel soothes, running his thumb gently along the tense line of your jaw. “Did they say somethin’ to you?”

You huff. “No, not to me. They didn’t see me there.”

Their hushed voices still ring in your head like a fire alarm in need of new batteries: relentless, infuriating.

Don’t know what in the world a handsome gentleman like that is doing with a little girl like her. You’re tellin’ me. What a shame. Such a young thing – she can’t possibly know how to handle a man like that. He needs a woman his own age!

“They said I’m not good for you,” you weep. “That I’m too young. That I — I c-can’t be what you need.”

“Darlin,” Joel drawls. He fishes the tv remote off of the coffee table and flicks the screen off. Drops it somewhere next to him on the cushion. The apartment is noticeably quiet now, apart from your shaky breaths and the dull drone of an idling truck engine from the street below.

“You know I love you, right?” 

You sniff again. Nod. 

“I don’t give a shit if people think you’re too young for me,” he huffs. “You’re a grown woman. You give me everything I could possibly need and then some.”

“Yeah?” you squeak. You know deep down that Joel wouldn’t stay with you if he had any reservations about any aspect of your relationship. But after months of no reprieve from stinging glares and brash insults, you feel as if you’ve been broken down, reduced to an anxious, overwrought version of yourself. 

Joel repositions himself, sprawling back on the couch and pulling you with him so that you’re laying against him. “Yeah,” he repeats, stroking your hair. He tucks a loose strand behind your ear, away from your glassy eyes. “Those ladies can get their asses in line.” 

You laugh, then — a real, genuine laugh — the kind that Joel can somehow always pull out of you, even in the most inopportune of times.

You’re so grateful for him, for his innate ability to calm you down when it feels like the world is crumbling below your feet. Grateful that he’s yours.

You lift your head. Prop yourself up by the elbow on Joel’s thigh. Wipe away the lingering wet on your cheeks with a deep, settling breath. 

“Does it stroke your ego, having a fan club of women who wanna fuck you?”

He smirks. Pulls you closer to him with a hand cradling your face. 

“Maybe a little,” he whispers, his lips ghosting yours. “Does it stroke your ego, bein’ the only one who gets to fuck me?” 

And in truth, it does. You’re the only one who knows where he likes to be kissed, how he likes his cock stroked, how to make him cum embarrassingly quick with just your mouth.

You’ve learned him intimately, every inch of him.  Ruined him for any other woman.

So in a fucked up kind of way — it does.

“Yeah,” you admit. You suck his bottom lip into your mouth, silently reveling in the way he immediately moans, the way he bends to you.

“These all mine?” You bring a finger to his lips, sputter on a shaky exhale when he unexpectedly parts them and sucks the digit into his mouth.

“Mhm,” he hums around you, takes your free hand in his and guides it down his body, across the expanse of his torso, the plush of his belly, pausing when you reach his crotch. 

Your pulse quickens, then, a dull throb forming at the base of your neck. You extricate your finger from his mouth with a gentle pop.

“This too,” he whispers, canting his hips up toward the flat of your palm.

He’s half-hard, his clothed bulge pleading for attention. But he pulls your hand away quickly, not letting himself get carried away at the feeling of your fingers grazing him through denim. 

Instead, he re-situates it against his chest so that you can feel his heartbeat where it hammers under skin, against flesh and bone. “This is all yours too,” he says, voice so low it reverberates in your skull. 

“All of it — all of me. Don’t gotta worry your pretty little head with anythin’ anyone else has to say about the matter. Got it?”

His words are spoken with so much conviction that you have no choice but to believe them, to let them stick in your brain like anchors in sand: deep and immovable.

Yours, yours, yours. 

And nobody else’s.

“Yeah,” you smile into the column of his neck, inhaling his scent: mostly him, but with notes of you. 

“Got it.”

It’s two weeks later when she makes a move on him: the woman with the perm. Joel is taken aback by her boldness, with you just a few feet away, digging your key into the lock of your mailbox. 

“You must work with your hands,” she purrs, grabbing one of his wrists and examining his calloused fingers with such little integrity, his mouth actually slips open at the unabashedness of it all. 

“Uh-”

“I’m Sheila,” she hums, raking her fingers through tight, blonde curls. “And you are?”

“Joel,” he grunts noncommittally. Wrenches his arm back. He doesn’t miss the way her eyebrows twitch in offense. 

But she’s insatiable, this woman. She bounces back like a rubber band, not-so-subtly pushing her breasts together, the zip of her sweatshirt slipping down an inch and her mouth curving into a salacious grin.

You just about stop dead in your tracks when you round the corner to the lobby, junk mail in hand, and see her, her body turned towards Joel’s, chest pushed out and hip popped. She has a bedazzled tote bag full of groceries slung over her shoulder, a head of leafy greens poking out the top.

“Hi neighbor!” she smiles mockingly at you, all lipstick-stained teeth, when you sidle up to Joel. “I was just telling your friend here what nice, strong arms he has.” She’s not looking at you, eyes locked firmly on Joel’s biceps, nearly drooling at the sight of him. 

Heat spools behind your ears, red-hot.

“Not her friend,” Joel corrects before you can. “‘M her boyfriend.”

“Oh,” she says. “Boyfriend.” Her lips wrap loosely around the word, like it’s some fanciful thing. “You’re too old to be someone’s boyfriend.” 

Joel takes a step away from her, closer to you, and splays a steadying hand across your back. “Man-friend, then.” 

You laugh, not because it’s funny, but because this entire conversation is fucking awkward. 

Sheila pays you no attention.

“Well,” she sighs, overtly staring at the exposed skin of Joel’s chest, where the top two buttons of his flannel are undone, “Joel, if you’re ever lookin’ for a good meal, I’m just next door.” She flits her eyes up to his and smirks. “Know a big man like you has gotta eat.”

Your vision blurs scarlet. 

Joel is equally as infuriated. The disrespect of this woman, to so openly flirt with him in front of you. His fists ball tightly at his sides. 

“Thanks, but no thanks,” he gruffs. “Anyway, nice to meet ya ma’am-“

“Sheila,” she reminds him. 

“Sheila,” he repeats, only to appease her. He turns to you, squeezing your waist affectionately. “We should probably get goin’, right sweetheart?”

You’re still fuming, barely able to register Joel’s voice next to you through the thick haze of pure fury clouding your mind, but you manage to nod, spit out a hurried yeah.

And with that, Joel is turning on his heels, pulling you with him toward the elevators. You don’t dare look back at her, but you can feel her eyes boring a hole in the back of your head. 

Her footfall fades into the mailroom and you breathe a minuscule sigh of relief. At least she’s out of your sight.

“Please just move in with me,” Joel begs when you’re finally behind closed metal doors, the inspection plaque situated above the buttons suddenly extremely interesting as you try to focus on not thinking about setting this woman’s apartment on fire.

You’ve talked about living together a few times. It’s just — you’ve never considered it so seriously until right now. 

“I can’t let them win,” you mutter, agitated. 

You hate how they’ve made you feel, like you’re some helpless animal tucked in the corner, hiding from them. Just waiting for the next ambush. 

With the passing of each floor, your anger simmers, bubbles into a silent rage in your stomach, one which threatens to boil over at the next underestimation of Joel’s devotion to you. You need to make it known, once and for all, that he’s yours. 

Words from your grandmother play on a loop in your head, ones she repeated to you often when you were a child: if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all. 

And then you have a thought — a devious thought — maybe you don’t have to say anything to get your point across. Not to them, anyway.

Your mouth is on Joel the second you’re back inside the four walls of your own apartment, slotting against his pulse point and sucking a desperate bruise there.

He’s not expecting it — why would he be? You’ve just been seething the entire elevator ride up to your floor, the entire walk down the long, winding hallway to your unit. He’d practically been able to see the steam billowing from your ears. 

So the switch-up is more than a bit dizzying, to say the least.

“Whoa, darlin’,” he pants, his large hands draping over your shoulders. “What are you-”

“Joel.” Your voice is stern; it demands his attention. “Do you trust me?” 

Your hand trails down his body languidly, in a straight line to the waistband of his jeans. And fuck, of course he trusts you — more than anyone. But this is wrong, fucked up, for you to make him feel good when you’ve been made to feel so small these past few minutes. 

Still, his cock doesn’t get the memo, twitching in his jeans as you place another open-mouthed kiss on the underside of his jaw, your fingers beginning to fiddle with his belt buckle. 

You give him no choice with the way you’re touching him, the way you’re looking at him when you pull back, all pleading eyes and parted mouth, but to resign all protest. He’ll give you the world, and if right now you want to use his body to blow off some steam, who is he to complain about it?

“Yeah baby, of course,” he breathes. “What do you need?”

You smirk at him audaciously, tongue smoothing over your teeth. “Need you to be loud,” you purr. Your voice is so innocent in juxtaposition to the words you spew. It sends a chill down the column of his spine. “Let them know who makes you feel good.” 

He nearly cums in his pants untouched, grasps at the fabric of your shirt with clumsy hands and nods. “Fuck, okay.”

His belt falls to the floor with a clang.

He lets you take control, then. Lets you mark him with your tongue and your teeth, lets you back him to the door with deft fingers working his shirt buttons open before sinking to your knees in front of him, freeing his hardening cock from the confines of his jeans and boxers.

It’s already weeping for you when you pull it out, precum beading at the tip. He’s so big, growing heavier in your hand with each passing second, and you lose yourself for a moment, hypnotized by him.

“Always so eager to please me, aren’t you, pretty girl?” Joel’s voice pulls you back to earth, soft and adoring.

“Louder,” you remind him. Plant a kiss right over top of his leaking slit.

“Fuck,” he hisses through his teeth. One of his hands flies to the crown of your head, anchoring himself with fingers in your hair. “Dirty fucking girl.” 

His voice fills the entranceway, confident and filthy. 

“Mmm,” you hum approvingly.

“Yeah? You want me to tell ‘em? Tell ‘em you’re making my cock drool for you? That nobody — shit-” You enclose your lips around his tip, suckling on it as your fingers wrap around the base of his length and you begin to stroke him lazily. “-that nobody has ever made me feel this good?” 

Footsteps echo down the hallway and the sound makes you reflexively pause, your hand stiling on Joel’s cock. It’s followed by the jingling of metal, the click of a key in a lock, the opening and closing of a door — all close enough that you can pinpoint the source, can tell where exactly it’s coming from. 

Sheila is home. 

Perfect.

It’s probably worrying how excited it makes you, the prospect of her hearing, of her sitting alone in her apartment, at her empty dining table, and listening to Joel fall apart at your hands. Maybe they’ve driven you to and over the edge of sanity with their words, her most of all. Regardless, you can’t help the way it makes your cunt flutter around nothing. 

You lick a slow stripe up the underside of Joel’s cock, starting just above his balls and dragging the flat of your tongue up, up, up to his tip. His breath shudders, his grip on your hair tightening, and the subtle sting at the center of your scalp gives you another idea. 

“Do you wanna fuck my face, Joel?” 

“Do I wanna — fuck — you’re gonna kill me, angel.” 

“Go ahead,” you encourage, unhinging your jaw as wide as it can go, letting your tongue droop over your bottom lip. 

Saliva pools in your waiting mouth and Joel groans at the sight of you, so malleable for him, begging to be used. 

“You sure?” 

It’s not that he doesn’t think you can handle it. He knows you can. You’ve taken him down your throat more times than he can count. Always so fucking eager to please him, you are — just one of the many reasons he feels so goddamn lucky, so infuriated that anyone would think otherwise. 

But still, he can’t help but worry that he’ll hurt you. 

You nod, eyes locked on him, confirming beyond a shadow of a doubt that you want this. He nods back, beginning to feed his cock into your mouth, easing it in slowly and halting when his head hits the back of your throat, causing you to gag.

You don’t pull away, don’t show any indication of displeasure. In fact, you dig your fingers into the meat of his thighs, bearing down on him as you push forward. Mascara tears stain your cheeks as you choke on him, laser-focused on relaxing your throat so that you can accommodate more of his length. 

Joel pulls back, retreating entirely before pushing in again. He slowly increases his pace, your eyes hooded, so doelike and innocent, as his cockhead bruises your larynx. 

The sounds he’s pulling from your mouth are absurdly lewd: muffled gags and frantic inhales of breath. And then there’s him, moaning wildly, not sure if he’d be able to shut up even if he needed to be quiet. Your mouth is good, too fucking good and he’s going to — fuck, he’s going to cum if you don’t stop. 

He pulls out abruptly, a string of drool and precum tethering the tip of his cock to your swollen bottom lip. You’re panting, coughing, still bracing yourself against his legs when you fucking smile up at him. 

“Christ,” he says. “Fuckin’ angel, you are. Mouth feels like goddamn heaven.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. But I need to cum in that perfect little cunt,” he breathes, pulling a strangled moan from the back of your rawed throat. 

He helps you up, spins you around to face the door. You brace both hands on the wood, humming as he pulls your pants down to your knees. His breath is on the back of your neck, trailing up to the shell of your ear with one whisper just for you, because he can’t help it. 

“So fuckin’ beautiful, you know that?” 

You shiver, responding with a tilt of your head, inviting him in with a needy little mewl. He cradles your face in one of his large hands, the other rubbing over the curve of your ass as he kisses you passionately, tasting himself on your tongue.

The hand on your ass trails lower as he deepens the kiss, two fingers pressing against your clothed seam. You’ve all but soaked through the fabric, wet cotton molding to his knuckles as he caresses them along your pussy before pulling your panties down in one swift motion.

You whine into the kiss, desperate and dripping for him. “Please,” you breathe against his lips. “I’ll make you feel so good, I promise.”

“Know you will,” he coos, mouth parting from yours as he straightens out and lines himself up with your entrance. You arch your back, rocking onto the balls of your feet as he teases you with the tip.

His cock is so thick when it finally notches into you. It’s always so devastatingly thick, no matter how wet you are for him. The stretch stings, a jolt of warm pain coursing through your walls as he stills halfway in. 

“You okay?” he asks, one hand resting at the small of your back, the other on your hip, fingers gripping to you only tight enough to hold you in place.

“Yes, fuck — yes,” you whine. “Need you to fuck me, Joel.”

“I’m goin’ to baby, don’t worry,” 'he promises, pushing in another splitting inch. “Pussy’s so goddamn tight, ‘ts suckin’ me right in.”

It feels like hours pass with Joel’s cock motionless inside your aching cunt, his warm breath fanning across your back as he focuses on not cumming. You’re whimpering, begging under the weight of his body, to please just fucking move.

When he finally obliges you, pulling all the way out and then bottoming out in one deep thrust, it nearly punches the air out of your chest. You scrabble for purchase on the door, fingernails scraping against chipped paint. “F-uucckk,” you moan, eyes rolling back in your head as he sets a dizzying pace.

The sound of his balls slapping against the back of your thighs is enough to attract attention on its own, the loud smacksmacksmack going straight to your cunt. Joel growls behind you, driving into you even harder, the tip of his cock brushing against your g-spot. 

“Oh, shit,” you cry. Your pussy inadvertently squeezes him and he curses at your back, low and deep. 

“Not going to last if you keep doin’ that,” he warns. “Cunt is too fuckin’ good. Best I’ve ever — uuuhh — had.”

He’s not just saying it for show. It’s true. You know it is, too. He’s told you before, both under the influence of your pussy and not. Waited too many goddamn years to feel like this, he’d said once.

“It’s — fuck, it’s fine Joel,” you mutter. “I’m close too, just keep going, right there.”

A door across the hall creaks open. A pair of footsteps patter across tile. 

Do you hear that?  Yeah; what is that noise?

Joel laughs darkly behind you, snaps his hips up, forcing a guttural moan out of you. 

“Think they caught us, darlin’,” he says. “Caught you takin’ my cock like you’re fuckin’ made to.”

Oh my word!

Joel is unrelenting, pounding into you despite the voices right outside your apartment, and you fear for a moment that you’ve created a monster. One of his hands leaves its place on your waist, cracks down on the center of your asscheek with a slap, the flesh recoiling under his palm and you gasp. 

The feeling travels between your legs, straight to your neglected clit. It pulsates under the hood with every pass of Joel’s cock over your g-spot, and you feel yourself hurtling toward the edge dangerously fast. 

If these people don’t leave, they’re going to hear you cum. Do you want them to hear you cum? Yeah, you think, clit jumping again at the thought, I think I fucking do.

“Joel, fuck-”

“You gonna cum?” he goads. “Yeah, can feel you squeezin’ me — you’re gonna cum, aren’t ya?”

This is vulgar!  We should file a noise complaint. C’mon.

His hand snakes around your front then, finds your throbbing bud, and with a few passes of his calloused fingertips, you’re gone, vision whiting out and all noise around you muted. 

Joel keeps you upright between him and the door, his grip on you tightening as your muscles slacken. He follows closely behind, cumming inside you with a carnal noise from the back of his throat, rope after rope of his spend filling your cunt. 

He pulls out with a grunt, immediately collapsing on the floor. Without his support, you topple over too, falling onto his lap with a satiated giggle. 

A banging comes from the other side of the wall then, shaking your kitchen cabinets a few feet away, the clanging of glassware jolting you.

Keep it down next time! I don’t need to hear that!

And then you’re laughing like teenagers, Joel pulling you in for a sloppy kiss, all tongues and teeth. 

“Think they’re really gonna make a noise complaint?” Joel asks when you finally come up for air. 

“I dunno,” you smile. “Does your offer still stand — for me to move in with you?” 

“Always,” he vows, forehead resting against yours.

end notes: ty for reading! pls consider commenting or reblogging if you enjoyed <3

[thisisntmyrightera]

Together - CHO HYUN-JU x Fem Reader Part 2

Summary: Reader is scammed and abandoned by her boyfriend, leaving her alone in South Korea to her fate, so in desperate search of a solution to return to her home country she decides to join the squid games to get money, within the game she meets a couple of people who become her friends and could possibly be something more.

Warning: Violence, homophobia mention of attempted rape and sexist language

Hours passed, one after another as groups of 5 people entered after passing the tests, time was exhausting, hearing gunshots in the distance and watching as the greedy people got upset every time the door opened again and again

I had already gone back and forth from my mattress to the steps, I sat down and lay down bored looking around feeling the irritation on my ankle more and more, the guard had tied it so tight that a red irritation had started to appear on my skin

Ouch - I said barely touching my ankle feeling the burning that was irritated even more by the friction of the fabric

Are you okay let me see - Hyun-Ju approached slowly sitting down a couple of steps below taking my foot carefully - did you twist your foot?

No, I'm fine - I looked at her embarrassed, trying to avoid her gaze, but her firm and large hand held my foot, looking at me - it's just a scratch, I think

Let me see - her touch went from firm to soft and delicate, slowly lifting the fabric of my pants, showing the red and irritated mark on my skin - I see, your skin is very sensitive, are you weak after all?

Hey, I'm not weak - her laugh made me laugh with her, pushing her a little while my leg rested on her knee - Hyun-Ju… can I ask you something?

Sure - her smile was still kind as she carefully folded my pants up, making sure the fabric didn't touch the irritated area again

Why are you here? Do you need the money for something? - Her face seemed to turn even paler than it already was, her smile blurred and her eyes looked at the floor in shame, as if she had asked the most embarrassing thing on the planet - If you don't want to tell me, I'll understand, excuse my intrusion

No… it's not that - she sighed slowly swallowing saliva and then looked at me with a look of embarrassment - my… my goal is to get to Thailand

Thailand? Do you need to go on vacation or something? - I smiled at her naively excited, thousands of times I had heard about that country but I still had not had the fortune to know it

No..- she smiled mocking a little at my foreign innocence - I…I need to go finish my transition you know..

Transition?..oh..I..understand Hyun-Ju sorry I shouldn't have asked you something so personal

Don't worry - she smiled a little moving her fingers nervously playing with the green fabric - it's just that…nobody is ever interested in my story and it's a little difficult for me to tell it

I understand…well..- I looked at her going down a couple of steps until I was sitting next to her looking at her attentively - if you want you can tell me, I would like to meet Hyun-Ju - She laughed with her eyes a little wet looking to the other side trying to hold her breath - do you work?

I worked… - she sighed again, this time deeper, dropping her shoulders - I was fired from my job when… well… I decided to tell everyone what I really am, they were ashamed of me and, they fired me

They are bastards, that is not right or even legal, what does your identity have to do with your ability, they are ignorant - I snorted angrily clenching my jaw - it must have been a dumb job after all, right? You must not have missed much

I was a soldier… - she looked at me, moving her legs nervously - a sergeant to be more exact, after they fired me my mother cried a lot and my father was ashamed, they don't talk to me anymore, my friends stopped talking to me and… - her voice broke off as her lips trembled - and everything became difficult and lonely

I understand, the people you trusted turned their backs on you - I looked at her feeling stupid, I shouldn't have forcing her to open her feelings like that, now I felt guilty for making her cry because of my silly curiosity - but… Hyun-Ju - I smiled a little taking her hand (which I could barely hold a couple of fingers of her big hand) I can be your friend, I would have loved to meet you somewhere else and be able to help you feel better about yourself, after all you haven't done anything wrong, being yourself makes you very brave

That's why I want to go to Thailand, I've heard that in that country there are the best doctors and the prettiest girls, I would love to be able to complete my transition and finally be what I want to be - her eyes showed a sparkle when she talked about it, her illusion overflowed through her pores

You don't have to go to Thailand to feel like that, for me you are already beautiful - my arms surrounded her as soon as the sobs began to come out of her chest and her hands covered her face saddened by crying, she was so fragile, my arms could barely surround her shoulders while her head rested on my shoulder sobbing and shaking - if you want to cry do it, people have been very cruel to you, but never cry out of shame, you have nothing to feel disappointed in yourself about.

This time, the shots didn't seem so dangerous and time passed without feeling it so slowly, she was a magical being that made me lose track of time

You are also very pretty, since I met you, I felt your bravery but also your heart, not everyone shows what they have inside and makes it look so valuable - her hands slowly wiped her tears taking care not to ruin her eyeliner and her diva bangs

It's not time to get sentimental - I laughed pushing her slowly while I got up adjusting my blouse going down a couple of steps - I'll go to the bathroom in the meantime

Do you want me to accompany you?

No, I'll be fine, wait for me here don't go anywhere - I laughed walking across the large space in the center of the beds feeling everyone's gazes.

They followed me and whispered, some laughed and others even said uncomfortable things waiting for me to react upset, they made the path very difficult to the door which was empty and as it was supposed, almost all the guards were in the yard even while the game continued.

The bathroom was big, with lots of cubicles and mirrors, almost uncomfortable to look at, like those endless and gloomy backgrounds, I could barely walk without tripping over to one of the toilets, sitting down uncomfortably listening to the door open once again, this time the footsteps of several people echoed in the almost empty place and a couple of laughs broke the silence and then a loud bang on my door made me jump scared, quickly pulling up my clothes

-I know you're in there, naughty girl, get out of there - the boys' laughter echoed off the walls, how could I have gotten into the wrong bathroom - get out you damn bitch - A loud bang again made me jump scared, unlocking the door with fear and opening it slowly

What did I tell you, the foreigner was here - the purple-haired boy laughed leaning on the bathroom door almost joining his face to mine - what are you doing here, cutie?

Nothing, I'm done - I looked at him, barely trying to get through quickly, scared, feeling a clumsy and strong hand pulling my hair

Come here bitch, I'm not done with you - this time his strength made me slam against one of the bathroom doors, making my back hurt - we know why whores like you come to our country, they come for sex and attention from us, don't they?

That's right, my friend - the long-haired man laughed, pressing his sweaty face against my cheek - she smells good, tell us, darling, what is such a pretty and sexy girl doing with that damn homosexual monster, huh?

She's not a monster, she's my friend - I looked at him, annoyed, tired of continuing to deal with men like him, but despite trying to get out of his hands, I couldn't - her name is Hyun-Ju, that's what they should call her

Oh, how cute, so you're a fucking weirdo like that effeminate? You like faggots, huh? - He laughed, hitting my cheek, making me scream in pain- You know my friend Nam-Gyu liked you as soon as he saw you, don't you like my friend? He's a real man

Leave me alone - I could barely speak when I felt his hand on my neck, pressing me against the door

Leave you? Honey, we're just getting started - the rapper laughed with his friend - do whatever you want to her Nam-Gyu, show her what it's like to be with a real man

My screams could barely be heard a couple of centimeters away, his firm hand on my neck and my crying didn't help much, feeling his disgusting hands running over my body, under my shirt and on the elastic of my pants made me feel even more of an idiot, this was all my fault

Shut your fucking mouth, you're distracting me - another blow again, this time on my lip leaving me stunned - hold her tight, she won't stop moving

I could feel the cold air on my thighs as they pulled down my pants and laughed talking disgusting and meaningless things, everything seemed to get even more dizzy, everything looked blurry until my body fell to the cold floor and again I could react, my tears wouldn't stop running down my face but I could notice the rapper and his friend lying on the floor, the latter Nam-Gyu wiping his bleeding nose

This will be the last time you approach her, is that clear? - Hyun-Ju hit him once more, slamming his head on the floor, leaving him unconscious - If you touch her again, I'll kill you, you fucking idiot, I'll kill you!

The purple haired boy ran hysterically almost tripping over his shoulder, not caring that his friend was on the floor, and I felt so humiliated, lying in a corner of the bathroom crying with a bleeding lip. If only I had listened to my parents from the beginning, I would have never come to this country and this wouldn't be happening. It was all my fault.

Calm down, sweetie, here I am - Hyun-Ju was much taller than those two men, her body was still strong and thick, but her presence was so calm and gave me so much peace that I couldn't feel intimidated by her.

Her hands, careful as always, held my pants, slowly lifting them up until they were in place, then they went to my face, checking my bruises and moving my hair out of my eyes so she could see every inch of my skin.

Sorry… - I looked at her embarrassed, feeling my tears running non-stop, I felt so humiliated and dirty that I couldn't think of anything else but that everything was my fault

You don't have to apologize, you didn't do anything wrong, no one will do anything bad to you anymore, I promise - her arms held me, she never asked me to stop crying or forced me to calm down, she just let me take it all out in her arms, rocking me slowly - let's go outside

But… - I looked at her with fear, shaking her head

Nothing bad will happen, I promise, as long as we're together I'll take care of you, okay? - I could feel my hair being brushed by her fingers slowly and carefully

Ok… - I sighed wiping my eyes with my sweater getting up slowly holding on to her arm so I wouldn't fall, luckily when we left the lights were almost off and most of the people who were already in their beds were getting ready to sleep, thank god without paying attention to us as we crossed the large space in the center

Let's go to bed, tomorrow will be a new day and we must be focused - her hands held my back slowly, making me go up the stairs carefully taking care not to trip - do you want me to help you with your shoes?

No.. - I looked at her embarrassed sitting on my bed taking off my sweater carefully while she stood rubbing her hands nervously

Okay, if you need anything, I'll be in my bed, just call me okay? -She smiled lightly at me, almost invisible because of the darkness of the place, but I could feel it, she made me feel those nice things

Hyun-Ju…-I held her hand quickly while she stopped almost tripping- can you… stay, I'm afraid to sleep alone

Do you want me to stay here? I can watch you if it makes you feel safer -she went back up a few steps sitting down carefully

You can sleep with me, we'll both rest and take care of each other- I could feel my cheeks erupting again while I held the blanket so she could come in with me

Are you sure? I don't want to bother you…

I'm sure, come - I smiled at her, barely feeling a pain in my lip, she just lay down carefully, her body almost taking up more than half of the bed but her presence was so calm that it made me feel like everything was perfect again

I didn't understand why I felt that way, safe and loved, with honesty and without being hurt

Thank you Hyun-Ju…thanks for saving me

Thanks to you, sweetheart, you saved me in a different way,

----------------------------------

Thanks for reading, I'll be back soon! Tag List!

Part 3

@kuureii @sann1e @sunflowers-are-heaven @bridellashiper

[lohotine]

``A More Vulnerable Side of the Elusive Moon``

Shadow Milk Cookie x GN Reader

CW: Slight Angst, not heavily proof read

The moon only shines because of the sun; yet it claims that light as its own. It is as greedy as it is illustrious. It appears bigger than it actually is due to an illusion. If placed in a room alongside a certain jester, and you were told to point to the liar, which would you choose?

Despite all of this, you can't help but admire it all the same. Even with all of its flaws, how can one not acknowledge its beauty?

"Thinking about something?"

You turn your head away from the moon only to be met by another. This one has a blueish hue and a signature, masked smile to go with it.

"Nothing you'd find entertaining," you say to Shadow Milk.

He continues to stare at you, unblinking. Despite him only having two eyes, you feel the gaze of hundreds more still on you.

Shadow Milk takes a seat next to you, taking your hand in his nearly instantly. It's cold to the touch.

"Hmmm, you think too much," He takes a strand of your hair and begins to twirl it. "There's no need for all of these silly thoughts to be running around in your mind."

Ever the touchy cookie.

"It's nice to think sometimes," You'd respond.

Shadow Milk Cookie only rolls his eyes before releasing your hand. "But that's so BORING. The only thoughts you should be thinking about anyway should be about me!"

You feel him place his head on your shoulder, and though his face is not visible to you, you're sure he's pouting.

"In a way, I was sort of thinking about you."

He lifts his head and turns to face you, his signaturing smile returning just as quickly as it faded. "Really?" He sounds akin to that of a small child receiving a gift on their birthday. In response, you nod your head.

"Mhm..." You shift slightly so you are behind him before wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head in the crook of his neck.

His expression is almost unreadable, yet there seems to be some sort of... annoyance.

"I'm always the big-spoon," Shadow Milk grumbles.

He hates to admit it, but he just loves to always be in control. Sure, this is a small example of it, but not having the upper hand in situations like this causes him to feel stuck.

Shadow Milk absolutely despises feeling stuck.

Even if you read through the dictionary one hundred times, you'd never find quite the right words to describe the disdain Shadow Milk experiences when it comes to feeling stuck.

"Just this one time please... I wanna hold you," you'd mutter.

Shadow Milk thinks it is absolutely pathetic how quickly he folds when you ask like that; yet it doesn't change the fact that he still does.

He may not have said it out loud, but him not moving out of your grasp was his own way of voicing that he would allow it.

Actually, it really was quite odd how quiet Shadow Milk was being. Normally he doesn't shut up.

But as you look up at his face, you can tell that something is different. He's thinking about something.

It's not like he never thinks, though. He thinks quite a lot, actually. He's just never so... obvious about it. So still... silent.

Perhaps he hates it. Perhaps he loves it.

Or... maybe a bit of both?

When it comes to Shadow Milk, it really is hard to tell.

"Thinking about something?" You parrot his way of speech from earlier.

His gaze locks onto yours. It's sharp and filled with something... Hatred? Confusion? Maybe it's something more innocent, like surprise. Whatever it is, it only lasts a moment.

One small, fleeting moment.

Then he's back to grinning, back to hiding behind that mask he's so carefully crafted.

You admit, you're not sure if you love him or the mask.

He, too, is unsure.

"You don't need to worry your little head about it!" He flicks your forehead.

"But I like to worry about you," You'd say.

And once again, Shadow Milk finds it absolutely disgusting how quickly he folds when it comes to your words.

Think about it; a beast such as him, falling for a mere weak, stupid, and frankly, rather gross mortal?

Just what would the other beasts think about him if they were to ever find out?

What would YOU think about him?

No, he simply cannot let you find out. Or anyone! But mainly you.

In fact, there isn't even anything to find out! Since he doesn't like you...

And as you observe him, you realize he's fallen silent once more. There's no grin or anything hidden on his face. He simply gazes at you. Admiring you, maybe? Staring? You're still not sure.

But you do know that this version of him is something different. A more fragile... more real version.

It's something you haven't seen before.

Perhaps it's even a more vulnerable side of the elusive moon.

AN:

This writing is actually pretty messy tbh, but this has been sitting in my drafts for like a week and I didn't know what to do with it.

I might write more using ideas from this, and hopefully that'll give me time to let all of this marinate.

I'm not sure how well the ideas in this work together, since there's a lot of them, but I still think they're pretty interesting to explore.

IE; Shadow Milk's fears, reader's doubt when it comes to loving a liar, and the comparison of SMC to the moon.

Idk what I'm even doing anymore tbh, but um yeah. Here's something to chew on IG

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the heavy boxes

buttercup, chapter sixteen

a/n: i can't believe this series is finally complete... it started as just a therapeutic little thing I wrote for a week I was really feeling down from an anniversary of something traumatic (if you've read this series, then you can probably guess what it was, so I don't gotta go into the nitty gritty here in the lighthearted authors notes), but then I went and made it a long ass series. i blame the new season of daredevil for that one lol.

summary: “yeah, but that was when it was just my place,” he murmured, making you grin even wider, “I wanna fuck my girl in our home…” his palms swept lower down your form before he plucked you up onto the countertop next to the sink.

warnings: matt murdock x baker!reader, smut, neighbours to lovers, rape recovery, ptsd, moving, matt in a slutty tight t-shirt, kissing, dirty talk, size kink, manhandling, masturbation, mutual masturbation, fingering, orgasm denial, edging, multiple orgasms, squirting, protected sex, penetrative sex

word count: 3008

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Foggy and I are right around the corner, we’ll be there in two seconds!

As you glanced down at the text from Karen, Matt brushed passed you and asked, “who is it?” as he carried a hefty moving box in his arms towards the messy towers in the corner of your apartment.

“Oh, you know,” you sighed as you stuffed the phone pack into your pocket, “just my secret lover,” you decided to joke with a smirk as you returned to the cardboard box before you, now stuffed full and ready for you to flip closed.

Your words conjured a soft chuckle from him as he then set the container down, “oh, really?”

“Yeah, he’s pretty great,” you went on as he then shifted towards where you stood, “has a thing for running around the city at night, defending people. I mean, you couldn’t possibly relate to something like that, mister lawyer,” your arms caught his sides as he neared, “also, he does it in this whole get-up that’s very kinky,” you fought the urge to giggle as you snaked your touch around his frame, “and he compares himself to the devil a lot, which, I mean, that’s hot,” you uttered before you gave in to the losing battle and a laughter began to billow out of you, mixing and mingling with Matt’s own before his lips soon muffled your merriment with a kiss.

It didn’t take long for the sweet peck to escalate into a full-blown make out session, the both of you swiftly riling each other up so much that your feet began to shuffle, shifting you back till your spine collided against the far-off wall. Plucking you up into his arms, Matt smiled against your kiss as your soft thighs enveloped his hips and your core pressed up against his growing hardness.

But then, just before his greedy fingers had the chance to peel off your shirt, just before it could explode into something much more, a knock suddenly tapped against the front door of your apartment.

“Oh, no, no,” Matt promptly whined as you broke the kiss, “tell them to walk around the block or something,” he murmured desperately against your cheek as he already knew precisely who was waiting out in the hallway, “just five more minutes, that’s all I need.”

“Five minutes, yeah right,” you giggled as he tried to capture your lips once again, “put me down, Matty,” you uttered before he begrudgingly obeyed, still hard as a rock in his pants as you simply skipped towards the door to open it, “hi, guys!” you played off your remaining laughter as mere joy to see your friends faces, “thanks for this, really.”

“Hey, I was in since the moment you said free pizza,” Foggy admitted, raising up both of his palms.

“Just as long as it’s not one with mushrooms on it,” Karen cocked her head as she crossed the threshold.

Though moving all of your belongings quite literally just across the hall seemed like a small task, you quickly grew thankful for the extra hands that had gracefully agreed to help out. However, as you all began to shift the items from one apartment to the other, a specific hitch in your plan became so apparent that it was suddenly all you could fixate on.

It wasn’t often that you caught your wonderful partner on a day where he wasn’t either clad to go to court or clad to hit the streets, but seeing him today, in a t-shirt that clung onto his bulky frame as if it was about to burst at the seams, distracted you more than you cared to admit.

And the fact that the man was also marching around and carrying all of the boxes that you couldn’t even push an inch across the floor, only made matters worse as you nearly started drooling as his muscles flexed and bulged, completely on display.

The guy also didn’t have to revel so obviously in the fact either, but being the man that Matthew was, as soon as his sharp senses effortlessly picked up on the evident clues, a cocky grin stayed plastered on his features till he soon caught your waist, as you tried to pass by, and snuck you around a tall mountain of boxes to sneak a kiss so teasing that it only fanned the flames even further.

But after he had given the first poke, the teasing swiftly became a two-way street as you both seized every opportunity to slyly steal kisses and sizzling touches whenever the two of you were alone, or even just partly obscured, for longer than a few seconds.

Although, as soon as your friends left and the door to the apartment slammed shut behind them, you and Matthew rushed to each other like moths to a flame.

Pent up from the torture, you crashed against one another, your lips once again locked at an instant before Matt uttered, “fucking finally!” his feet shuffled, shifted you with him, further into the now cluttered abode, “I can’t tell you how hard it was to not just christen the apartment while they were still here,” a breath filled your lungs as flashes of his desperation flickered in your imagination, bending you over a stack of boxes, only to pause and cover back up each time one of your friends entered the room.

“But we’ve already had sex in here more times than I can remember,” you furrowed your brows as he backed you up and into the kitchen.

“Yeah, but that was when it was just my place,” he murmured, making you grin even wider, “I wanna fuck my girl in our home…” his palms swept lower down your form before he plucked you up onto the countertop next to the sink.

Slotting himself in between your thighs, he smiled against your lips as one of his hands floated up to tilt your jaw into the kiss that he pressed against your mouth.  

The whole dance that had stretched throughout the entire moving process had riled the both of you up so much that foreplay now would only draw out the torment as the pair of you each felt as if you were about to explode.

His lips migrated down the column of your neck as he swiftly stuffed a hand down your pants, his fingers slipping under the waistband of your panties to wet his fingers on your slickness. As he found your buzzing clit in a dizzying rub, the grip you had on his broad shoulders floated up and tangled in his short hair, your nails gently scratching along his scalp.

With one hand nestled between your thighs, swirling your puffy pearl and giving it the attention it deserved, his other palm drifted up along the outline of your frame till his touch found your jaw. Your cheek was aflame beneath his hand as his thumb soon stretched out to trace your soft lips, although when he briefly dipped it just shyly inside of your mouth, you caught him off guard when your mind melted and your lips wrapped around his digit, your gentle tongue swiftly fluttering against his skin and making him groan. Soon, two others took the thumb’s place, keeping your sweet mouth occupied as your legs began to tremble on either side of his hips.

Now, the man didn’t need to pet you for long before you unravelled for him, moaning around his fingers before your head tilted back, unplugging your mouth as your hips rocked back against his touch.

As you were panting with your hazy haze directed at the tall ceiling, you felt Matt’s hand dissipate as he stumbled back, dragging slow steps across the kitchen till he bumped against the counters on the opposite side and swiftly leaned back against them.

Though just as you felt the intoxicating high cause your eyelids to grow heavy, you blinked down just in time to catch as Matthew’s palm cupped the hardness that tented his pants, before he swiftly seized the zipper to free himself.

The slow stroke he then granted his throbbing length caused a pout to find your lips before your own touch began to travel down your frame, acting of its own accord to give yourself some relief.  

Though as you stared, and your hand snuck its way down to mimic the manner he had just touched you moments before, you soon couldn’t help but whine, “Matty,” your eyes traced his tight fist as it leisurely twisted up and down his cock.

“What?” he chuckled, knowing full well how you wanted him to get back within your reach, though only smirked at the way you whimpered.

“Don’t play that game,” you panted, “do you really wanna get off all the way over there, all lonely?”

“Oh, honey, I thought you liked to watch.”

“That’s so not the point,” a shiver ran down your spine as a smile twinkled on your features.

“So, what is your point then?” he slowly pushed away from the counter, though didn’t near you yet.

“Are you seriously gonna make me beg?” you giggled as the spark of satisfaction his slight shift granted you made you dizzily kick off both your pants as well as your soaked panties beneath.

“Yeah,” he exhaled as he tugged open the junk drawer directly next to his hip, “I think I am,” he cockily uttered before his fingers conjured a condom from the catch all compartment.

A long sigh flowed through your smile before you then huffed, “please.”

“Please, what?” his feet slowly began to carry him towards you.

“Please fuck me, Matty,” your chest rose and fell rapidly as he got near, your eyes dipping to his dick as he swiftly rolled on the rubber.

Catching your legs, he yanked you even closer to the edge, scooting you near to wrap your thighs around his frame, “tell me again.”

And as you felt him nudge his hardness against your weepy core, briefly parting your petals with his girth, you whimpered, “please fuck m–,” before a gasp suddenly flowed form your lungs as he gave you exactly what you wanted. Burying himself inside your warmth, his hips then locked up as a sigh slipped from him and fanned across your heated cheeks, his nose ghosting against the tip of your own as you both revelled in the sensation. And as your cunt clenched around his girth, his heavy sack nestled up against your slick skin, a hazy smile found you both.

Though just as a faint giggle bubbled in your throat, Matt parted his lips once more and said, “again,” as he then slowly dragged his cock back out of you, making your eyes roll in your skull.

“F-fuck me, p-please,” you repeated as your eyes flickered down to catch sight of how your cream stained his fat girth, the slickness echoing throughout the apartment as his length then filled you up once again.

“Like that?” he offered you another thrust, slow and deep, “is this how this little pussy wants to be pounded?” his hand floated up to cup the side of your face, “could that make you cum again for me?”

“Y-yes!” you nodded as his electric rhythm caused you to gasp.

“Well,” his fingers drifted up to tangle in the edges of your hairline, “then keep begging me all pretty and I’ll do just that,” he uttered before capturing your lips in a fevered kiss.

Foggy echoes flowed from your lips as he then began to fuck you. Scorching lips dancing down the column of your neck, his grasp swiftly ripped off your shirt to clear the path for his kisses to wander down towards your chest.

And as he buried his face in your tits, littering the soft peaks in hickeys, your own touch clawed at his broad shoulders as you held on for dear life, nearly ripping holes in the fabric of his t-shirt as your fists clenched the cotton tightly.

But by the time that you felt the end grow near once again, the begging fell short on your lips and ended up costing you your orgasm as Matthew then boldly took a step back and let his cock slip out of your pussy completely.

“Wa-wait!” you swiftly grasped after him as your cunt fluttered, twitching around nothing as you promptly backed away from that intoxicating edge.

“What? I’m just holding up my part of the deal, baby,” he tried to keep a straight face, “if you wanna try again, I’ll be in the bedroom,” he uttered playfully before slipping out of your reach.

“Matt!” a short giggle bubbled through your gasp as you jumped off the counter and landed on your wobbly legs, “that’s not fair,” you tried to catch up to him, though when you did, your jelly-like legs stumbled and you ended up taking him down with you just as his hand wrapped around your waist. Tumbling to the floor, you swiftly seized the opportunity and swung a leg over his frame before he had the chance to slip away once more, “do you have any idea how close I was?”

“Is that really a question?” he smirked as you rolled on top of him.

“So you were an asshole on purpose, good to know,” you then reached down to grasp his cock, “then I guess you won’t mind if I repay the favour,” you slowly sank back down upon his length, your thighs trembling slightly on either side of his hips at the delectable stretch, “see how you do if you have to keep begging for it…”

“Oh, that’s cute,” he chuckled teasingly, his eyes briefly fluttering as he once again felt your velvety walls cling around him, “but we both know you’re way too nice to not let me cum.”

Letting out a gasp even though you knew he was right, as you did admittedly love to make him feel good, you still argued, “I-I could do it.”

Propping himself up to a sitting position, his face was suddenly much closer to your own as he cocked his head, “oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” your cunt couldn’t help but clamper down around his cock as you then watched him peel his tight shirt over his head and toss it off to the side.

Inching in a bit closer, he uttered, “then fucking do it,” before you then shoved him back to lay flat on the floor beneath you, the grin only brightening on his face as he let you plant your palms on his broad chest for support before you mustered up the strength to move.

Though a bit shaky at first, slowly raising up your hips before lowing yourself back down upon his fat cock, you soon found a rhythm that made your toes curl.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” his grip dented your thighs as they flexed with each molten rock of your hips, “bounce that ass for me,” he groaned beneath you, “ride me, just like that.”

Gliding your palms down to where his own was glued to your skin, you caught both of his before he weaved his fingers in with your own, letting you hold his hands as you chased your high, rolling your hips till you felt yourself catch back up to where you’d been.

And as you then finally came once more, the edging Matt had tormented you with turned out to only amplify the release as you then gushed around his girth, your cunt fluttering around him so fiercely that it forced his dick out completely, letting your pussy soak his pants, that still remained half on his body. Quivering above him, your fingers soared down to replace his girth, prolonging the high as you feverishly rubbed your puffy clit as well as hooked your digits inside of you till your juices no longer drenched your possessed efforts.  

“Oh my god, yes, that’s my girl,” you heard him grunt as he nearly reached out to give you a hand, though only helped keep you upright as you spasmed atop of him.

You were completely boneless, barely registering as he then rolled you over to lay on the ground, it wasn’t till you blinked up at him to discover him hovering above you that you noticed that it hadn’t just been your dizziness that had turned the world upside down.

Dropping down to support his weight on his burly forearms, he now only had to tilt his chin for his lips to crash against your own.

“God, I love you,” his low timbre washed over your still tingling senses as he eventually withdrew from the breathless kiss.

Feeling something change in the air, you knew with but a look upon his features that the little game had been dropped, forgotten the very moment that he slid his cock back inside your haven.

“I love you,” your legs curled up to tangled around his hips as he slowly eased himself even deeper, “I love you so fucking much…” you murmured hazily before you then kissed him once again, your whimpers soon vibrating against his tongue.

Staring up at him through hooded eyes, your mouth hung agape as he began to buck into you, taking your breath away at each slow and deep stroke he offered you, plugging you up so perfectly that your pussy soon began to sing for him once again in sinfully sloshing sounds each time his girth would nudge against your g-spot.

Though usually concealed beneath his clothing, the cross necklace that he always wore now dangled from his neck, swaying like a pendulum as it kissed your cheek, caressing your skin at each zealous thrust, his heavy balls smacking against your leaky mess each and every time.

And when you eventually came one last time, once again squirting, though this time around his girth as he kept up his efforts for just a few more snaps of his hips before he as well fell apart, holding you close as you both panted through your matching smiles.  

© 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[ikeubaekgu]

ENHYPEN HYUNG LINE EATING PUSSYYYYY

first work guys!! support pleaseee <3333

HEESEUNG | is a weak man when it comes to your pleasure. he would do anything in his power to hear your pretty sounds, he will do anything to see you writhe and shake underneath his weight, so gorgeous for him when your eyes roll all the way in the back of your skull and your plump lips part in pleasure when he’s working his magic on you. so don’t be surprised when he wants you to enjoy the sight too! getting you on your knees and facing a mirror as he spreads your ass cheeks open, relishing in the way your greedy little cunt clenches even without him doing anything to it. loving the way your body jumps forward slightly when he spits on your hole before completely digging in, hot tongue relentlessly fucking into your heat. he would be so messy, a mix of his spit and your juices just running down his chin and getting all over his sheets. he’d be grunting in pleasure and mumbling against your cunt to keep your eyes on yourself baby, literally working himself up by just thinking about how gorgeous you must look as you get near your orgasm. he gets so needy for your release he grabs your hips and fucks you back on his tongue, so harshly and fast your arms just collapse because it feels too good. poor little thing, your face smushed against his sheets as you get all your pretty makeup and drool on it, hee turning you into a dumb little slut with his tongue only.

JAY | always loves to eat you out, but he enjoys doing it particularly when you’re tired or you’ve had a rough day. he loves pampering and taking care of you, and it’s no different when he lays back and urges you to get on top of him with that signature lopsided smirk of his. he’s so gentle when he slides his hands all over your thighs and ass, caressing them with such care, his eyes glimmering as he encourages you to fully sit on him, to let him take care of you, angel girl. his movements would be so slow, agonizingly so. he wants you to just put all your weight on him and relax, let him worship you like the goddess you are in his mind. he’d keep his eyes closed, savoring every single moment too as he slides his tongue along your slit, gently circling your clit a few times and humping the air when he feels just how responsive you are to his touch, no matter how slight. totally slides his hands up to your lower back and hips, the contrast between his rough hands but careful grip sending shivers through your entire body, especially when he parts from your heat for a second to just whisper how much he loves you, how much he loves this cunt and how good you taste, before diving back in and rocking your body back on forth on his tongue until you make a mess all over his mouth.

JAKE | is so fucking nasty. he would spend every waking hour between your thighs if he could, and he does try. it gets to a point where sometimes you feel a little bad, you want to return the favor but everytime he just asks for you to just let him eat your cunt once more? you don’t seem to get that he does this for his pleasure too. he just loves your pussy and her taste so bad.

still, you also want to pleasure him. so why not suck his cock while he eats you out? the best of both worlds! and he becomes absolutely obsessed with it. just shamelessly thrusting his hips up into your mouth as he groans and moans and pants against your wet hole. he’s just so happy you let him eat you out as much as he wants now. he loves sucking on your clit, making downright obscene sounds, while fingering your cunt open with his thick and long digits, always challenging you to fit more and more. you’re so drenched sometimes he thinks he could fit his whole hand inside you. would literally hold your legs around his face after you come, because it’s still not enough. so into overstimulating the shit out of you, to the point you’re not even really sucking his cock anymore but doing something closer to gagging on it as he fucks your mouth. don't even think about squirting in his mouth because he will fuck it back inside you and try to get you to do that again. just insatiable.

SUNGHOON | is a lot more meticulous when he’s stressed or irritated. he likes to use every single toy he can think of on you, especially when he’s eating you out. there’s vulnerability in letting someone else pleasure you like that, and he loves to make sure you never forget that. making you hold your own legs so you’re bent all nicely for him, giving him the freedom of doing absolutely anything he wants to you. his bushy eyebrows furrowed as he keeps his eyes on your tits, your pretty clit delicious in his mouth as he sucks on it while slowly inching one of your dildos inside your hole. because of course, you think you’re so slick owning all of this nasty shit. well he can use that better too, he just knows your body so well. slowly teasing the toy in like he would his own tip, making you beg just for some stupid plaything like you would for his thick cock. and if you did anything to make him mad like the slutty brat you are, don’t even think about letting your legs go for even a second, no matter how good his mouth feels. because he will stop and strip your peak right under you. opting instead to land repeated slaps right on your clit, telling you that’s all you’ll get, cum like this and show him you're sorry, show him how good you are. and you do. you squirt around nothing, soaking your own hands that are still holding your thighs open, tight little hole convulsing like it’s begging for anything to fill it up. and while hoon is finally calming down and going back to your usually loving boyfriend, he thinks he just might give it something for real this time.

[a-998h]

Hello hi ! 👋 May I ask for a Mystic Flour Cookie x child reader Platonic please ?? The reader is actually her child and was kidnapped by the greedy cookie who attacked her temple, after being free from the Silver Tree, she had to make sure her child was okay, and they finally reunited again.

Please I LOVE the story you made with yandere Crk x child reader and I love this cookie ! Please 🥺🙏

TRIGGER WARNING FOR IMPLIED KIDNAPPING AND IMPLIED TRAUMA!

SPOILER FOR MYSTIC FLOUR COOKIE LORE!

Aw, thanks! I'm so happy you liked it. I might do something similar for other characters if people have suggestions. I'll also throw in platonic yandere sibling Cloud Haetae Cookie on top of this.

When she was good, she had found you outside the Ivory Pagoda. She was confused, but more likely disheartened. Cloud Haetae sniffed you with a puppy-like curiosity. She brought you inside, bathed, clothed, and fed you. She felt you rest your little head against her chest and she smiled.

"You poor baby. Don't worry, I'll be you mama now," she mumbles.

Your existence makes the life easier for her. She soon learns you were a gift from the witches, and that her fellow beasts got children of their own as well. She smiled at every milestone, no matter how small they seemed. She would let you play outside with Cloud Haetae watching over you. You were happy growing up, but this joy didn't last forever. You noticed how you mom was getting more and more cold towards cookies and it scared you.

One day an angry, greedy cookie who didn't get their wish stormed up to the Ivory Pagoda. You were outside playing that day, trying to shake the recent coldness of your mother. The cookie saw you playing with dolls and had an awful idea.

Mystic Flour heard your screams and rushed outside, seeing you under the arms of a random cookie and Cloud Haetae unconscious. She rushes after the cookie but others armed with weapons attacked her and the Ivory Pagoda.

This would push her farther down the path of apathy. She never forgot you and the other beasts had lost their own children in varying ways. You were always on her mind, even as she lay in the Sliver Tree.

Centuries have pasted and now she has returned to the Ivory Pagoda. Your toys, clothes, books, and other items were still scattered about though she was seemingly not affected.

Meanwhile in the Dark Cacao Kingdom, Dark Cacao Cookie was seated across from a child his men had found in the snow. He was so confused on how the child managed to survive in the cold and be perfectly fine.

"Child, where are you from?" He asked.

You were happily eating your 6th serving of jellies, seemingly ignoring his question. He watched and waited for you to finish.

"I'm not allowed to tell, mama made promise," you say between bits.

Dark Cacao let's out a tired sigh, oh he was starting to forget what it's like to have a young child. He keeps asking in ways that make it seem like you won't be breaking a promise but that gets nowhere. Soon news from Beast Yeast about Mystic Flour reaches him. He gears up to go and he sees you armed with a bag, ready to go.

"What are you doing, little one?" He asks.

"Going with you so I can find mama!" You declare.

He sighs again, pushing you back towards a palace staff member while explaining that you can't go with them. You pout and whine and he just let's it happen before walking away with his men towards a boat meant to take them to Beast Yeast, unaware of the snake like dragon following behind in the sea.

When they reach Beast Yeast a soldier looks to the left as he hears a splash but he sees nothing. It takes Dark Cacao and his warriors a decent amount of time to reach the mist covered peaks, where they meet Cloud Haetae. They watch as Cloud Haetae sniffs the air before breaking into a large smile, much to the confusion of everyone else.

"Little Pearl! Little Pearl!" Cloud Haetae yells as they rush to the back of group much to the confusion of the others.

Cloud Haetae hugs you, and Dark Cacao stares in shock and annoyance. Realizing you're now here whether he likes it or not. He gets more worried as Cloud Haetae pulls you to the front group while chatting away with you.

As the group makes there way up they learn more about you, and... yeah, they're worried. The worry is increased when Cloud Haetae told them how Mystic Flour became a feared beast. Dark Cacao can see the way your free hand grips the hem of your sleeve as Cloud Haetae keeps talking. Mystic Flour can sense her enemies arroach, but also a familiar aura with the coolness of the sea.

By the time you all reachh the Ivory Pagoda you rush ahead. Dark Cacao grabs the back of your shirt and pulls you behind him as his soldiers point their weapons at Mystic Flour. She remains unaffected, her eyes closed while looking through the cookies in front of her.

"Here child, come to your mother," she says, her coldness seeping through.

You're kind of confused because last time you checked your mama was happy and kind... not cold. Dark Cacao was uneasy, his free hand above the hilt of his sword. Mystic Flour didn't move or even open her eyes she just a simple command.

"Give me my child," she commanded coldly.

Dark Cacao complies, releasing his grip on your shirt and watching as you run and hug Mystic Flour. She hugs you back, patting your head before ushering you inside the Ivory Pagoda. Once those doors are closed she turns to Dark Cacao and his forces, ready to stop them from halting her mission.

[snoopyhq]

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ we should just kiss like real people do

NOT using cherry wine because the song has been through too many bastardizations already, and i'm a hozier fan before i'm anything else. to use cherry wine would be a disgrace, even if it has the 'perfect' line for a fic like this)

type: viktor x vampire reader

summary: headcanons and then a drabble of an instance where you feed

warning(s): blood, vampirism

word count: 921

a/n: been thinking about vampirism a whole lot lately as well as feeling down, so now i cope through tumblr fics. i love viktor, i wish i felt as strongly about real life people like i do for him

For a creature that's considered parasitic, the relationship you have with your eccentric scientist proved quite mutualistic

When you first stalked him on his walk home that late, late night, he had seemed like ordinary prey, easy to sink your teeth into and forget about

Something stopped you

Maybe it was that look in his eyes, flickering like a flame in the dark of that alleyway, refusing to die

They were so determined, so full of life

How could you ever drain them of that spark? It wasn't right

You could sense his fear, so palpable in the air, but he stood firm. His grip on his cane steady, his posture straight as he stared right at you with those lovely eyes, a million stories flitting through them

The eyes of someone who fought to survive since the moment he was born

You felt yourself slowing down, and then dropping to your knees completely

What were you doing? Were those tears in your eyes? You've become so jaded

Immortality had made you nothing

This mortal, so brief in the fabric of time, and his life already so weak and waning, had more... what was it? vigor to him

Lust was something you knew very well. Bloodlust. You embodied it. That urge that could never be satisified, the driving force that keeps your miserable legs moving, your body agile and agitated

His lust was one for life. For pursuit too, as you came to find out

A deal was struck that night; knowledge in exchanged for food

You allowed him to observe you and ask his questions, to witness your hunts (on animals now. less thrilling, but you digress)

In return, he became a sustainable food source. You didn't have to go out and about in the night now and get paid in stupid drunks or those rotten enforcers for your efforts

How lovely, to have something consistent for once

You could get used to this

Get used to him

divider below from @/dollywons !!!

The quiet comfort of the bedroom reminded you of your old crypt, in a way. It was dark. The sheets were soft and meticulously kept. It smelled of leather and old books and dried ink on fresh paper. The new addition was Viktor.

You'd started lounging about in his home, and his room became your favorite corner of the house. It became ritual for him to joke about having a coffin fixed there so you won't have to hog the blankets. Not his blankets. They were to be shared now, and he was fine with that. The coffin idea was still appealing though.

Tonight interrupted the quiet. You lingered before him, eyeing the pale curve of his neck. It was taking all your self control to not pounce on him immediately.

"Are you comfortable?" you asked.

He shifted around a bit, and then nodded.

"I'll try to keep accurate time. See if you're more greedy than last time," he joked.

Tsk. It wasn't that funny. (It is). You weren't as hungry as before.

Now you hovered above him, having laid him down. There was less hesitation this time, and you wonder if he'd note that down in his journal. You both did this song and dance enough by now to be comfortable with one another.

Still, the act of feeding was one of savagery. That can't change. When mixed with romance? It clashed, horribly. Your inherent nature versus what had been nurtured.

The taste of his blood filled your mouth, and you could sing to the heavens. If such a creature like yourself were allowed to. You weren't sure on the terms and conditions of that. Regardless, he was so sweet. A heady vermillion ambrosia on your tongue.

You were taking such care to be gentle with him.

You didn’t want to hurt him, but your love was violence, the draining of life, and the dark urges that lurk beneath every man, and he was already going limp.

Shit.

You pulled back immediately, the red still dripping from your teeth and down your throat. It mirrored the punctures on his. Viktor, the stubborn bastard, gripped the edge of your sleeve. He tugged insistently.

"I'm fine. I'm not as fragile as you think," he said, miffed.

“Too bad. I’m full,” you slowly pry yourself from his grip.

While he lazed back, you grabbed the first-aid kit. So used to it by now. He didn’t even flinch when you applied the antiseptic. After securing the gauze, you leaned down to brush another kiss against his lips, and he sighed at the slight feel of your fangs against the skin there.

“Was your vampire research quota met?” you asked, propping yourself up on your elbow to observe him.

“Very much,” he replied. “I look forward to comparing it with next week’s results.”

As he drifted off in your arms, you felt affection swell in your heart, and a fierce protectiveness over him.

He was strong.

You knew that more than anyone. He walked such a thin line between life and death. You could hear the beat of his heart, the flowing in his veins, and fragility of his tissues and arteries and bones. He pushed on, despite it. Taking his body to limits that had you balking, and you were near invincible.

In your hold, he was so delicate. His body was already thin and frail. So easily breakable. The very thought made you uncomfortable, and you tightened your hold on his sleeping form.

He was strong. You’ll protect him anyways.

[xwritingdixonx]

The Lover and The Fool. | Daryl Dixon |

–––––––––

Summary: As the communities struggle with a cold winter and a post-war world, they embark on help from a community unknown. And as fate decides it, Y/n and Daryl’s paths cross after thirteen years; forcing them to confront the memories and unresolved feelings of what once was.

Warnings: language, angst, arguing, sexual innuendos, situationship, slight smut, haunting the narrative, death

Word Count: aprox. 8k

Era: pre-apocalypse, post Negan war

~Anything in italics is the past~

Tags: @negansbestie

Song Suggestions: Silver Springs - Fleetwood Mac, Do I Wanna Know - Hozier (Cover), We Hug Now - Sydney Rose, The Night We Met - Lord Huron

––––––––––

The aftermath of war is nothing short of a struggle. Alexandria’s burnt houses, the Hilltop’s shrunken population, and the Kingdoms soiled crops were evident of this.

The pivotal members of these communities gathered in Hilltop, spewing ideas and plans of strengthening their own survival. “We’re just gonna have to start looking harder…scavenge every corner of every town we walk in.” Rick stated. Various maps of the surrounding states and cities. “We’ve already done that Rick…there’s nothing left. We’re gonna have to start traveling farther and farther.” Maggie argued in return, her arms comfortably crossed against her chest.

Rick sighed, looking down at the map of Virginia; counting the various towns marked off.

Jesus kept himself towards the corner of the room. He knew supplies were running low and the cold Virginia winter was proving difficult for new crops. The grounds were hard and frozen, the only rainfall passing through only froze the ground more. The sources of electricity had been damaged amid war [ yet to be fixed ] leaving no room for heat lamps to be of any benefit. He played with the glove on his hand knowing his suggestion wouldn’t be taken well. “I…I have a suggestion.” He finally spoke, all eyes on him.

He took a step forward, “There’s this community in Pennsylvania that is…vast and thriving.” Jesus took a seat beside Rick at the table. “We can ask them for help. For supplies and helping hands to rebuild but…” He paused reluctant to continue.

“But?” Michonne questioned.

“I don’t know if they actually will.”

Daryl scoffed from his stance by the window. "Sounds like a bunch of greedy assholes to me." He commented chewing on the nail of his thumb. Jesus sighed deeply before continuing to speak.

“Their leader is kind and charming but she angers quickly and is prone to a grudge..” As he spoke, he pulled the map of Pennsylvania in front of himself, circling a large area. "I can get her here to talk to you, Rick." Rick himself seemed uncertain. Half of it is from pride and the other half not so ready to trust a stranger.

"This can be something, Rick. A one-time thing that gets us back on our feet." Rick deeply signed, rubbing his chin.

"Alright."

The day lay still in wait for your arrival. Though your body itself was yet to be in Hilltop, your presence could be felt from miles away. Everyone on high alert in anticipation.

Ears perked on the guards on gate duty at the sound of engines grumbling. One car drove ahead, two motorcyclists trailing closely behind. Jesus was quick to be at the gates, knowing his face was the only one you’d recognize.

As the gates slid closed behind the vehicles now within the walls of Hilltop, you exited your vehicle. Jesus was happy to greet you, "Hi Y/n." You smiled at him, "Paul."

A sly smile formed on his face. You had no problem greeting him with open arms. "You got my message." Rick approached the two of you, trying to not interrupt the reunion. "This is Rick, Y/n." Rick reached a hand out to you.

You were gentle in your touch but your defense was on high. Rick saw this in the two men you'd brought along who looked happy to take care of anything thrown their way.

Rick immediately saw the ways you were better off than anyone else here. From the gloves on your hands to the coat on your back. The coat you wore looked handmade, sewn together from various types of black leather. The hood of the coat was lined with some type of animal fur to keep you warm.

“Would ya like anything? Water…liquor maybe?” You chuckled at Rick’s offering, knowing it was in good heart. “No I’m okay, thank you though.” A polite response to hide your own un-surety. You found your eyes wondering about the room examining every detail, having only seen this historical building from the outside. You don't think you'd ever been in a place so nice unless it was a museum.

"I understand how difficult this must be...to welcome someone into your home after your latest affairs." At the beginning of the savior problem, Jesus had reached out to you first. You'd only met each other a few months before when your groups ran into each other while traveling. When you'd declined, not willing to throw your community into an unavoidable war, Jesus turned to Rick.

"It's definitely not easy," Rick admitted "We had our fair share of protests from people." You nodded your head in understanding. “Where are you from? I feel like I hear some South in there.” Rick attempted to joke, seeming to lighten the mood. You chuckled at this, “I’m from Georgia actually, I came upstate years ago for school.”

The conversation continued smoothly having something to relate to the other on. You continued to speak on the rebuilding of Alexandria and helping the communities make it through the winter. Having seemed to of formed some type of bond; Rick still awaited your answer.

A knock sounded from the double doors, Jesus peaking his head through. Rick stood from his seat, "Everyone's here now, if it's a good time?" Jesus had a nervous smile on his face. Rick turned to you for approval, "There's some people I'd love for you to meet...if you're willing?" You responded with a nod of approval. People began to walk in one by one, Rick taking the liberty of introducing them.

“This is Maggie, she’s been running Hilltop in Gregory’s absence. And Michonne, we’ve been working together at Alexandria.” You gave polite smiles to the two women.

“And this is Aaron and Daryl. Two of our best scavengers…Daryl has been working with the saviors.”

You had to look at him twice, not recognizing him the first time. You had to look past the outgrown hair and newly found broad figure. Your heart began to race, your throat running dry, wishing you’d taken Rick's offer of water. You could feel the tenseness in your shoulders soften at his mere presence.

Daryl felt himself freeze, the air disappearing from his lungs.

Rick looked between the both of you, he himself falling silent. “Do you two know each other by chance?” He’d asked innocently. His words break the stare. “Yeah…we were uh..” Daryl couldn’t find the word to say what you were, “friends…long time ago.”

Daryl watched your face change, resorting to a cold glare. The feeling in the room became stiff, every wall seeming to close in. “Yeah, we were friends.” You added in spite. He expected it, how could he forget the terms you’d left things on thirteen years ago?

Awkwardness settled, covering the room like an extremely uncomfortable blanket.

“Y/n and myself were just discussing some things.” Rick attempted to continue the conversation as if nothing had happened.

Whatever kind words exchanged between Rick and you meant nothing now. Your mood had been spoiled. Your nerves were shot and your mind scrambled with thoughts. But still, you tried to keep your composure.

Daryl examined your features intentively. Your eyes looked tired, the youthful hope they once held was no longer. 

And whether that was from surviving in a world so cruel or the years themselves, he could not tell. You had small scars on your face. One on the bridge of your nose, high cheekbone, eyebrow, and bottom lip; leaving him wondering who hurt you enough to leave such imperfections. Regardless of any flaws, you never shed your beauty. The same beauty that left him nervous and begging years ago.

He couldn't imagine the same for himself. With unruly, uncut hair, new scars all over his hands, and a solemn attitude, he wasn't much to look at anymore. This world had hardened both of you. Burning away the youthful glow and replacing it was a certain bitter maturity. 

You could feel his eyes on you, making you squirm in your chair. 

Your hair was long and perfectly upkept, growing well past your breasts. Funny, he thought. You always wanted it long.

You refused to acknowledge his curious eyes, focusing on Rick. But you could still see him in your peripheral vision. " You don't have to give us an answer now. I know this is a lot to ask." Rick chuckled nervously, finding himself in a very uncomfortable situation. "I... uhm...I just need some time to think." Rick nodded understandingly. "Give me two days to collect my thoughts and maybe I'll see you on the third."

"And if we don't?"

"Well, then you have your answer."

You heard Daryl scoff. 

Your head whipped to him in an instant. "What?"

"How can ya be so selfish?"

Rick sighed deeply. His high hopes were being squashed by the second - remembering the words Jesus had said. Quick to anger and prone to a grudge.

"Sel-? Daryl." You snickered in return, rolling your eyes. His demeanor only fueled your annoyance as yours did his. It was as if no years had passed, picking up the argument right where it had been left. 

People slipped out of the room swiftly, knowing the extent of Daryl's anger. Though they didn't know the extent of yours, they weren't willing to stand around and find out. "Do you even understand what's being asked of me?" You crossed your arms over your chest, sitting back in your chair. 

"It ain't that hard...These are good people Y/n. They deserve this." He argued.

"But do you?" Your response is full of spite. 

Daryl's face twisted. He couldn't believe your pettiness could go to the lengths you were taking it. He sat up in his chair "That ain't right and ya know it." 

You did know it but your emotions were in disarray and you didn't care what was deemed right in this moment. 

The anger that accumulated every day without him was coming to the service, burning away any fear of saying what you truly wanted. 

"What was right, D?" His nickname coming from your lips made him flinch. Your tone was pointed. You weren't talking about communities anymore. You were talking to him directly. 

“I don’t know.”

You could say you didn't know when it started but that would be a lie. You had just turned twenty-one on the sixth day of March, now having the permission needed to work in your uncle's dive bar. It had been in the family for years, your grandfather opening it in the late 1960's. Your uncle and father ran it together until your father's sudden death only five years prior. Your mother's death following soon after.

The bar stunk of cigarettes and the bitter scent of 'fresh linen Febreze' in an attempt to cover the stench. The wood floors and walls held the scent of every drink ever spilled on them. The decorations on the walls hadn't been changed in nearly twenty years. Old school pin-up liquor posters, clique Coke decorations, and stained glass lamp shades above every table.

The red spinny chairs at the bar and at every high-top had never been replaced, the red leather peeling in spots exposing the synthetic material beneath. Even the pool tables had seen the years come and go. The newest thing in this bar was you.

Daryl had only worked there less a year as a busser. 

You'd heard of him and his brother around town. But Daryl being four years your elder [and Merle even older] you never knew them personally nor cared to.

The bar was in chaos after a football Sunday, Daryl and you left behind after hours to clean up.

There wasn't much said that night, Daryl busy in the back scrubbing glass after glass. You busy in the front counting cash, cleaning any drink you'd spilled in the rush of the night.

You'd knelt down on your knees to clean a beer spill beneath a table, knowing it would turn into a sticky mess if you didn't. "Hey, hey." Daryl interrupted you, grabbing your attention by gently grazing your shoulder with his fingertips. You looked to him, eyes furrowed from your spot on the ground. "I can get under there, don't worry 'bout it." He had even offered you a hand to stand back up. 

Your first impression of Daryl was gentle and kind nothing like the cruel words he'd been called from the mouths of other townies. He spent the rest of the night interrupting you, refusing to allow you to do any hard labor; stating over and over that he'll "get it".

You were nothing more than coworkers at first. You began to tease him with flirty jokes and desirable glances throughout the busy nights. Leaving Daryl blushing and scurrying away to the back with his bin full of clanking beer glasses. You held conversations in the slow mornings having no other company besides him and a few retired men who wanted nothing more than to get away from their wives.

"I hope that love never finds me." You'd said to Daryl on one of those particular mornings. "What ya mean?" You were gazing at one of those men from your spot behind the bar, a regular who visited daily. "Spending their days here instead of home just to get away from their quote, pestering wives." You used air quotations, having heard the same story over and over again. "They loved each other once." You shook your head in disappointment. "Now all they can love is Budweiser and harassing bartenders."

Daryl watched the words flow from your lips so smoothly, trying to imagine how they'd feel on his own. "Ya know?" You grabbed Daryl's attention. "Yeah, yeah." You chuckled and shook your head, "You weren't listening."

A whiskey bottle and a pool table changed things that very night. Soon after it was as though you couldn't stray away from another, no matter how many times you said you couldn't do it again.

A closeness grew steadfastly. 

You'd come to know every inch of him. And every second of his life. As he did you. He'd opened up to you about his mother's death and his complicated relationship with his brother. He'd say he hated them.. but felt an obligation to love them because they were merely family. His father on the other hand was dead to him, being the way he put it. You related on this certain despair, few blood relatives left for you. It was just your sister, you, and your uncle. Your uncle never married and never had children, having put too much of his devotion to the bar.

The loneliness the two of you shared was apparent, finding solitude in this newfound company of one another. 

What you were doing didn't have a name. It wasn't in the rulebook of relationships. Maybe your loneliness made you desperate. Maybe it was nothing at all besides two horny twenty-something-year-olds craving the touch of another.  But what you did know was that he filled a hole within you, a hole that had been carved when you'd lost your parents. 

Your sister wasn't very fond of it. She'd tell you that you deserved to be loved openly and freely, not only within the sheets [or bent over a pool table.] 

The days turned into weeks, then months, and then it was approaching a year.

A soft moan fell from your lips quickly being stifled by the lips of another. You ground your hips against his determinedly, chasing the high you so desperately craved. The liquor is your system making your head fuzzy, the words he gently spoke to you only adding to your daze.

He muttered words of encouragement through his own pleasure, edging you closer and closer. It hit you like a wave, abrupt and full of adrenaline. His own hitting him the same, head dropping into the crevice of your shoulder.

You could feel his heartbeat against your own. You drearily brushed his back with your fingertips, “Daryl?” You asked innocently. “Hm?” He didn’t move from his position. “You okay?”

Daryl began to kiss your neck tenderly, “Course m’okay.” The kisses didn't earn the reaction they typically did. He lifted from his position, seeing as your eyes stared up at your ceiling. "Are ya okay?" He repeated the question back to you. "Have you ever thought about leaving this place?"

Daryl shifted off of you alleviating his weight. "Like leavin' town? or leavin' Georgia?" You shifted in the bed, "Either." You lay on your stomach and propped your elbow up, looking at him. The room was dim but you still saw Daryl's face contort to a kind of discomfort.

"Where would ya go?"

"We can go anywhere." You made sure to include Daryl in this. Making sure he knew he wasn't trapped here. "But the Upper East Coast has some really good schools for culinary...I think I'd like to do that." Daryl reached over beginning to rub delicate circles on your bare back. This gave you a sense of reassurance. A gentle reminder that he wasn't mad at you for desiring such a thing.

"Could be nice. Ya know I love yer cooking." Daryl looked at you with a dreamy gaze. He didn't allow himself to relish in such fantasies often. Typically keeping a certain, expect the worst and you'll never be disappointed, headspace to himself.

But something felt different tonight. Perhaps it had been the gentle, I love you, you'd whispered against his lips earlier in the night. Or the way he’d said it back. When he’d brought himself to his knees for you as his lips were stamping kisses on the delicate skin of your inner thighs. Muttering those three words before slipping his tongue where you needed it.

Daryl was working pre-open shift at the bar; cleaning up various glasses and sweeping cigarette butts beneath every booth and table. He enjoyed mornings like this, they were quiet, the only company he had to endure was that of his own. Motorhead played quietly through the radio behind the bar. Daryl lost within the beat of the song, he'd completely missed you walking in the door. 

"Hey D." His head whipped around. You smiled at him gently. He greeted you with an equally gentle good morning. "What are ya doin' here?" Though you'd disrupted his morning, he'd never complain. "I had to see you...I have to talk to you about something." The seriousness in your tone unsettled him. He turned the radio off and leaned his broom against the bar.

You could feel your heart beating against your chest making you feel as though you could vomit at any given second. Your mouth unintentionally hung slightly open as you grasped for words.

This only made Daryl more uneasy. He viewed you as a confident person, that spoke openly about anything. He rattled his mind for any possibility that could, quite literally, leave you speechless.

“Are you uh…pregnant?” Your eyes widened, “No! no.” You quickly rejected this giving him a moment of relief.

“So then what is it Y/n?” You fiddled with the ring on your right hand.

“Do ya not wanna do this anymore?” Daryl’s anxiety grew.

“Delilah is moving.” You blurted out quickly. “She wants to go live with that guy she met online...and I’m gonna go with her.”

Daryl shifted on his feet. “Where?”

“Massachusetts.” This made his heart plummet.

“Why?”

“I wanna go to school D.” Your words were meant to be firm but the unsteady tone of your voice made them sound nervous. Daryl’s silence unsettled you, he avoided your gaze, opting to look at the wood floor.

“There’s not much for me here.” A pitiful attempt to justify your decision.

“I’m here.”

You sighed deeply, averting your gaze to the floor, unable to look at the frown drawn on his face.

“Do you think this is easy for me?” Your teary eyes looked to him for an answer. “Hm?…You think it’s easy for me to leave my home? To leave where my mom and dad are buried? To leave you?”

“So don’t go.” Daryls voice was only above a whisper.

“Come with me.” It wasn’t a question. You said it as though it was a statement, demanding him to follow. “What?”

It had been a thought in the back of your mind for days. You had been finding it difficult to plan your own future states away without him in it. “I’m asking you to come with me.” Knowing he had no words for you, you continued on. “I can't live with Delilah forever, we can find a place together...You can get a job anywhere up there. You’re great with your hands D, you can do anything.”

It seemed as though he debated your offering. "Come on." You tried to encourage him. "We talked about it months ago. What's changed since then?" You took a step closer trying to ignore the step he took back in return.

“I can’t just up and leave Y/n. I can’t leave Merle.”

The scoff that you gave in response irritated him, knowing your pronounced dislike for his elder brother. “Merle’s in jail, Daryl.” You said it as if he didn’t know. “You’re just gonna wait till Merle gets his shit together to start living your own life?” The conversation was quickly turning bitter.

Daryl swallowed his pride though an argument was never something he backed down from. “Gotta get back to cleanin’.” He stated dryly. You watched in shock as he grasped up the broom and turned his back to you.

“Wha-Daryl.” He ignored you, sweeping the emptied peanut shells into a small pile. “Daryl.” Again, nothing. “Daryl please.” You grazed his back with your fingertips, testing to see if he'd allow your touch. "Please talk to me.” You whispered once more as you wrapped your arms around his torso and laid your head on his back. He radiated a warmth all too familiar.

Daryl stopped his movements allowing his arms to fall loosely at his side. It felt as though he'd stop breathing for a second trying to hold back the sobs that heaved his chest. This shook your body with his. You only gripped your arms tighter and began dragging your hands up and down his chest almost as a way of comfort.

Daryl shoved your arms from him, spatting at you to get off. “Go on! Go on get!” He snapped in an instant. His words made you feel like a mangy dog begging for food. His eyes were still red from his tears, and the pale complexion of his cheeks was now red and inflamed. Daryl threw his arm to the door dramatically, “Leave just like everyone else!”

“That’s not fair! You can’t put that on me.”

“Why not? You ain’t making it any better!”

“I’m asking you to come with me!”

“Oh that’s just so nice of ya Y/n!”

Daryl took a step towards you.

“Here!” Daryl shoved the broom into your hands, leaving you bewildered. “Give it a little kiss and then beat me with it why don’t ya?!” He shouted sarcastically. “Oh my god, really?!” You threw the broom to the ground, wood clattering. “You’re ridiculous.” You spat in his face.

“How so huh?! That’s exactly what yer doin’!” Daryl’s face was mere inches from your own. Though his words were full of anger, it didn’t cover up his eyes full of tears.

“Wether I stay or go yer leavin’ anyway.” His voice broke. He quickly pulled away from you, unable to look at your pouting face any longer without he himself falling apart.

You had no words for him, knowing there was truth in what he said. The tears finally broke past your water line, "I'm sorry Daryl, I'm-" "Get out Y/n." His venomous tone seeped deep into your skin, unsettling you to your core. Daryl had always been gentle with you, he never dared to take a tone so cruel.

"Okay." You agreed trying to give him his space. You turned to the door, stopping before touching the handle. "I'll still be in town till next Monday." As you swung open the door, you looked to him, “I’ll see you soon D.” You left thinking you could circle to the conversation later in the day after he’d collected his thoughts.

You never did see him again. He'd disappeared after that day. You spent your remaining days in Georgia trying to hunt down the man you'd spent almost every day with for the past year and a half. You asked around but no one knew. You even went as far as talking to his dad. An hour of your life wasted, the air you breathed taken up by whiskey breath.

The phone call you made to Merle also proved futile. He'd asked you for money in his commissary in exchange for information. The phone call ended in a plethora of curse words.

Daryl had shown up back in town sometime after you'd gone, acting as if nothing had happened. He never returned back to work at the bar, having found work at a local body shop. He wouldn’t dare face your uncle. And he couldn’t return to the spot that reminded him so much of you. He forced himself to have no desire to hear anything about you nor return to any spots where you’d graced. But unfortunately for him, that was almost every where in a town as small as this one.

He never saw the bar again, opting to drive a town over to get drinks. He’d heard from other locals that the new bartender didn’t make drinks as good as yours anyway. He struggled to go to the local diner. With it being a place you frequently got breakfast together, especially after one of your long nights, having worked up such an appetite. Merle dragged him there when he was released as a celebration meal. He felt inclined to order your favorite dish just to feel a bit closer to you. Biscuits and gravy with a side of over easy eggs and hashbrowns.

He continued to run from the grief of losing you until it crept up on him in the middle of the juice aisle of the grocery store, unable to buy the same orange juice brand he always had simply because it was your favorite too. Daryl found it difficult to go about his routines without your ghost grabbing him by his throat, dragging him down into a pit of regret.

Daryl never did escape that town. Not until the world forced him out of it on foot. And he never escaped Merle. Even when his blade ended his brother's life mercifully, he never felt as though he escaped his shadow.

The argument with Daryl raged on. Neither of you cared to hear the side of the other. At this moment both of you were right, both were justified in the stance they took. Despite the fact that there was a regret imbedded in both your hearts.

You were right for leaving even if every second of your life after was a well of loneliness.

He was right for staying even if every waking day in that town was misery.

"Where did you even fucking go?" You cursed.

"The hell you talking 'bout?" He cursed back.

"That day...you just fucking vanished." The volume in your tone diminished yet you still demanded an answer. "I- I stayed at the cabin." Daryl shamefully admitted.

Your eyebrows furrowed, "Cab-? Oh my god." You put your head in your hands, feeling a wave of frustration hit you. It sounded so ridiculous you almost laughed. It was the one place you failed to check. His grandfather's old hunting cabin. Technically abandoned yet still in his grandfathers name, it was a place Daryl ran to when he needed to escape, especially from the wrath of his father.

“M’sorry…it was just too much for me to see ya leave.”

“Oh please!" Your head shot up not in the mood for apologies. “You just didn’t want me to try to change your mind!” You argued. “You lived your life with Meryl just as you wanted it and I spent thirteen years waiting for someone who would never come.”

“What are ya talking about?” Daryl’s tone was nothing short of disbelief. “I never came? What about you huh? Ya never called, never wrote, never visited.” Daryl shouted. Your face scrunched in confusion, staring at him. “Ya just…” Daryl’s breath hitched as he could feel his chest begin to hurt. “Just walked out that day and never came back.” His voice cracked, attempting to blink away the tears in his eyes.

Your anger diminished though your heart still raced with adrenaline. “Daryl, what are you…?” Your confusion was too strong to find words. “What are you talking about?” The two of you stood opposite the other, equally confused.

“ I…I sent letters all the time. I sent postcards from anywhere I went. I sent Christmas cards and birthday cards with gifts and money…” You stuttered over your words, your hands frantically moving about. “I visited three times and made a fool of myself driving around town, asking people about you.” The frantic way you spoke made your chest heave.

Silence followed, each of you trying to digest the words of the other. “You know this.” You stated firmly. “Please tell me you know this.” The anger that once filled the room was replaced with sorrow. “No…never got no cards…ain’t nobody ever said anything to me about you visitin’.” Daryl responded.

You scoffed, muttering a quiet of course. The tears you had been trying to avoid, fought their way to your waterline. You weren’t sure why you had expected anything more from the people of that town; nor why you expected more from his father. The countless amount of letters you’d poured your heart into, thrown in the trash. And your money stolen; only to be used on liquor and cigarettes.

“Why did ya send me money?” Daryl asked abruptly, as if though it insulted him.

“Really? That’s what you’re thinking about?”

“Wouldn’t have taken your money Y/n.”

You bickered back and forth.

“This isn’t about the money, Daryl!” You snapped. Daryl was taken aback by your sudden outburst. You muttered a curse beneath your breath and stood from your chair; helping yourself to the bar cart. Opting to drown your frustration in liquor.

The whiskey poured into your glass smoothly.

Daryl sat silently in his chair. You had never yelled at him in such a manner before. “What happened to yer accent?" Daryl asked. You licked the liquor from your lips, turning to face him once again. "What?" He stood from his chair, meeting you at your level. "I only hear it when ya say certain words or when ya yell..." His words sounded as if he was hurt by this, “Ya don’t sound like I remember.”

You stumbled over your words for an excuse but found none. "It just faded after time, I guess." You knew the truth behind it, you’d been ashamed of your pronounced southern accent. Feeling as though you should’ve been herding cattle instead of running a kitchen.

Daryl was standing close to you. The closest he’d been in a long time. This made your throat run dry, seeing how little space was between the two of you. Suddenly, you became conscious of how long you'd been in this room. "I have to go." You grabbed for your jacket on the table. "Come on, don't." Daryl stepped in your way, blocking your path.

This only frustrated you more. "Daryl, I've been here long enough." You were pleading with him to let you go, becoming overwhelmed with your own emotions.

You began bickering over each other, words blending together all at once.

"We used to dance together. You and I." The abrupt sentence stopped the bickering. Your bottom lip quivered, teary eyes looking up at him. "In the bar late at night, once everyone had gone and the only thing they played on the radio was old love songs." It was a memory Daryl had tried to forget. A feeling he'd shoved so far down within himself that only you could pull it back to the surface.

If he dwelled on it long enough he could still feel your body pressed against his, head resting on his shoulder. The way your arms grasped onto the other, softly swaying to the music that hummed statically through the radio.

"We could've had something together Daryl." The tears brushed against your lashes, rolling down your cheeks. "But you didn't want it." You finally snuck around him, snatching your jacket from the table.

"That ain't true." His voice broke.

A frustrated sigh left you, "It doesn't matter now, it's too late." You angrily shoved your arms into the sleeves of your jacket.

"Y/n." Daryl reaches for you.

You ripped your arm away from him at the feeling of his fingertips brushing against the skin of your hand. "It's too late Daryl." Once your coat was on, you made for the door. No hesitation to leave him behind this time.

The sound of your boots against the wood floors echoed through the building, followed by the slam of the door. He stood there aimlessly, his eyes mapping out where you'd once stood.

Sleep didn't grace Daryl for those two days. He laid awake, tossing and turning, you on his mind. His daily tasks at the sanctuary were interrupted constantly by his own anxiety, leaving him irritable and antsy. 

Daryl wondered what you were doing at any given moment. He wondered if you were thinking of him just as much. Spitefully hoping you were just as restless as him. Hoping the mere thought of him ruined your day and left you sleepless. But when his spite wore away he found himself in a pit of despair.

On the third day, he made sure to be in Hilltop on wait for your [potential] arrival. 

The thought that you might not actually come made him sick. Every hour that passed left him more and more hopeless. 

Daryl, please go rest. Rick tried to coax him, knowing he'd been up before the crack of dawn. But he wouldn't, refusing to leave the spot on the porch he'd made his own.

A low rumble vibrated Daryl's eardrums. The recognizable hum of a bike. Of multiple bikes even. Then came the heavy tires of a truck, bumping along the dirt road, causing its chains to smack against the metal exterior. 

The metal gates rolled open smoothly just in time for the vehicles to pass through. 

You rolled the busted black pickup truck to a stop. The two bikers returned, putting their kickstands into the hardened ground. The white cargo van behind you came to a halt, the words 'Tony's Bakery and Deli' still painted on its side in red cursive. 

The bed of the truck you drove was covered with a blue tarpe, the ropes wrapped around the top kept the tarpe from flying away. 

Daryl watched you hop out of the truck, a sly smile poking at your cheeks. There was a different essence to you. Your presence itself felt lighter like a weight had been lifted. Rick and Maggie were first to greet you bringing a group with them to begin unloading.

Daryl couldn't keep himself from the crowd, strolling over to begin helping. He watched as you immediately jumped into guidance, instructing everyone on what was what and where to put it. You'd pulled down the bed of the truck, hoping atop to begin passing out the milk crates of food. 

Daryl had never seen you work like this. But he couldn't be more proud. You caught his eye from your stance atop the bed of the truck. You gave him a small wave that he returned. A heat rushed through him. That's when he averted his eyes, turning his attention to work of his own. 

The door of the cargo truck was slid open, metal slapping at the top. Daryl was first to gladly climb into the back, passing down boxes to the people beneath, proudly taking on the weight of the cargo. 

The people from your community that you brought as helping hands collaborated with the people of the Hilltop. They worked together unloading the trucks, dividing things into piles by community. Conversations were going on between many people, and the hum of delightful chatter filled the cold air.  

"I've given what I could for each community, I hope it'll be enough to at least make things comfortable for a little bit." You stood with Rick, taking a break having been unpacking for well over an hour. “It's more than enough Y/n. Thank you." 

You smiled to yourself, trying not to feel guilty about how much you enjoyed the praise for yourself. "We can continue conversations of reconstructions later on. We have plenty of ex-construction workers, and carpenters, and well… just men who can't wait to get their hands dirty again." A soft laugh came after your words, Rick chuckling as well. 

The feeling of someone approaching broke the conversation. You turned your head, grateful it was who you'd hoped. 

Rick glanced between the two of you, quietly walking away. 

"Ya look nice." Daryl complimented. You glance down at yourself, cocking an eyebrow at him. The same leather jacket you wore days before fitting your figure, black leather gloves covering your hands, and a thick brown scarf wrapped around your neck. "I've looked better." 

Daryl swallowed harshly, unsure of how to continue. "I have something for you." You continued for him. You nudged your head in the direction of your truck, insinuating for him to follow. 

"This is for you." You pulled a piece of clothing from the front seat of the car, closing it after. "It's uhh.." You presented the clothing to him. a black leather poncho with a hood, a soft brown fur lining it. "A lady at the community makes them." The poncho passed from your hands to his. Daryl looked at you flustered unsure of what to say. "Come on, let's try it." A hopeful smile beamed on your features. He reluctantly slipped the poncho over his head, the soft interior brushing against his face. "Hmm...it's nice."

Yeah, you whispered. 

"It's uhm, it's..." Before you could explain yourself, you took a step closer, finding yourself adjusting the garment as it was meant to be. 

"There we go." You pointed to the car window where Daryl could see his reflection. "It gets colds up here for a southern boy, gotta keep you warm." You joked. Your hand rested on his arm longer than intended but you couldn't seem to remove it.

Though the thick material of the poncho blocked your true touch, Daryl could still feel it. It radiated a warmth through the material. 

When your eyes met his in the reflection of the window, Daryl saw a lifetime with you flash before him. A lifetime he could have never known. You didn't pull your gaze. Thirteen years of longing looked back at you, a certain sorrow burrowed beneath those eyes. Your heartbeat quickened and the smile slowly faded. You swiftly removed your hand, taking a step away. 

"Thank you."

"Course."

You nervously played with the material of your glove. With the large scarf around your neck, you felt like a turtle sheepishly pulling itself back into its shell. "Ya wanna go sit somewhere with me?" A sigh of relief left you. "I'd love that."

Daryl had guided you to a wooden bench by the building, still in eyesight of the unloading cargo. You watched Rick with his clipboard and pen taking inventory. You sat atop the bench, planting your feet where someone would typically sit. You stretched your back, a small crack following due to sitting for a consistent four-hour drive.

"I packed some of that soap you used to like, the pine one? IrishSprings...I would suggest claiming it before anyone else does." Daryl nodded with appreciation. "Thank you for doing this." You were no fool to the topic Daryl and you were gently dancing around. "I forgive you." The forgiveness spewed uncontrollably from your lips.

Daryl didn't give you a response to this, not because he didn't want to but because it was so sudden it startled him. "I've spent a lot of years being alone and angry. And I..." You paused, "I don't wanna be like that anymore especially not towards you."

"I forgive ya too, Y/n." A deep shaky breath shook your body, finally hearing the words you'd longed for come from his lips. "And I'm proud of ya." You laughed at this. It was the only way to avoid tears. "Really. I am. Ya got out, you were a chef. You started a whole goddamn community. You got everything ya wanted." Your glossy eyes met his. "Well, I didn't get everything." You nudged his knee with your own.

The blue of his eyes didn't shine the way it used to.

He broke your gaze, looking down at his feet. “Were you ever ah..with, ya know someone else?” Daryl asked the question he’d been itching to ask. His possessive nature desired to hear a no. But he couldn’t be so selfish.

“I slept with people but nothing ever serious.” You admitted truthfully. No man or woman ever filled the hole he left behind. Everyone you ever met you compared to him in some way. No one had his charm. They never understood you the way he did. Never touched you the way he had. You eventually gave up trying to find something else, opting to throw yourself into work; figuring you couldn’t care for relationships if you were too busy in your career.

“Did you?” You turned the question to him. “No.” He scoffed sarcastically as if it was ridiculous of you to even suggest such a thing.

You felt ashamed to admit that his answer slightly pleased you. “I hate when you do that.” You commented with a shake of your head. “Do what?” Daryl replied gently. “Put yourself down so much…You’re handsome, D…Always have been. Anyone after me would’ve been more than lucky.”

Daryl was unable to articulate a reply to such a statement. You turned your head towards him, “Don’t look so surprised.” You cheekily teased.

You’d sat on the bench until your bum had fallen asleep and gone numb. It wasn’t as if you didn’t have plenty to catch up on. He’d lost Merle just as you’d lost Delilah. He asked you questions about work and what it was like to be a chef; you’d shown him all the little scars you’d acquired on your hands from your knife.

“I uhmm…I had some dishes in the restaurant that I made after you.” You’d never admitted that to anyone, never dare dwelled into the lore behind a simple dish. “Really?” You nodded to him a tad shamefully though a smile poked at your cheeks.

“It was a sirloin steak basted in butter, garlic, rosemary, thyme, and pine…” You swallowed harshly before continuing. “That was paired with a peach cobbler that came with a cinnamon whiskey ice cream for dessert .” He’d looked to you amused, wondering how you could perfectly emulate a person into one meal.

“I bet it was great.” He complimented.

You shrugged your shoulders, “It was a simple dish.” You said downplaying your work.

“Yeah but it was great ‘cause you made it.”

And there it was, that small ache deep within your chest.

“Anyway,” You continued in an attempt to ignore the feeling, “it was a special we only ran on Sunday’s.” Sunday’s had simultaneously become your most dreaded day but most looked forward to. Every Sunday service you’d spent gazing through the window of the kitchen, hoping to see him sitting at a table. Hoping a local told him he had to go taste the Sunday special and you’d be reunited again.

Daryl scoffed slightly, “I was the Sunday special?” He joked. “You were the Sunday special, yeah.” You laughed through your words. Your wide smile crinkling the skin at your eyes. No sound was as sweet to him as your laugh. Daryl allowed himself to have his own chuckle, the two of you joking and giggling like twenty years olds again.

You could’ve sat there and talked to him until the sun set and rose the next day.

“Sorry to interrupt.” Rick interrupted.

“That’s okay.” You dismissed, standing from the bench, trying to ignore the numbness in your limbs. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just wanted to come tell you that we’re all wrapped up.”

The horn of a car caught your attention and interrupted Rick. One of your men reached into the truck and his free arm waved you over indicating they were ready to go.

"It probably is best if we start heading out." A deep sigh followed your words. "Ya just got here." Daryl responded quickly. An airy chuckle left you at his hastiness. "It's been a long morning. We've been up since before the sun prepping everything and then the drive..." Your words trailed off watching Daryl's face droop into a frown. 

Daryl nodded his head in understanding, preparing himself for yet another goodbye. "You're welcome to stay." Rick offered. "I mean we could use the help distributing everything to the other communities...I'm sure everyone would love to meet ya and say thank you." Rick looked at you sincerely. "We can make room for everyone to sleep tonight."

You could sense Daryl's eyes looking to you for an answer, practically pleading for you to say yes. "I- I don't.." You looked over your shoulder at your group. "They'd worry back at home too much. It was only meant to be a day trip." Dary's disappointment was apparent. "Well, you're welcome anytime," Rick muttered another thank you before making his exit. 

You avoided Daryl's eyes, not needing to feel more guilt for your answer. "I'll be around, there's still so much to do here and in Alexandria." Your words were an attempt to mend the wound you'd created.

"Are you okay with seeing me again? And again...? And again...?" You were picking fun at him, a teasing tone in your voice. He couldn't hide the smile that poked his cheeks, "Course I am." 

"Good." A cheeky smile formed on your own face. Hearing the sounds of engines beginning to rumble brought you back to reality. “I’ll see you soon, D." You gently touched his arm before turning away.

Daryl shoved his hands under the poncho into the front pockets of his pants, his gaze following every step you took.

You looked back to him, tasting the words on your tongue, the same way they tasted thirteen years ago. Come with me. But you wouldn't, the fear of being rejected yet again silences you. Go. Daryl formed the word bittersweetly, nudging his head. He gave you the permission you needed to turn away. 

Daryl didn't move from the spot he stood. Even as everyone else's attention turned away, it was his love for you that kept his feet glued in the dirt. His eyes didn't leave until the last inch of the gate had been closed.

A lump formed in your throat. You threw on the brave face of what you thought a leader should be, forcefully swallowing it down. But the sorrow that made your heart empty only grew the farther the car drove. Hot silent tears rolled down your cheeks. You sniffled the snot that dared leak from your nose, forcing it down the back of your throat. This made you feel sick, wanting to throw up the mucus.

You kept yourself in this continuous loop for miles, your free hand clutching at your stomach as you whimpered like a wounded animal. You thought that if you kept on the feeling would eventually go away. But still, it persisted.

Daryl made his journey to Alexandria, offering his hand in aid to deliver the supplies. He'd returned back to what was his home in the community, though he couldn't recall the last time he'd stayed here.

No sleep would greet him that night, he was sure of it. He had too many thoughts of you floating aimlessly in his mind to lay to rest. He sat solemnly at his kitchen table, fiddling with making new arrows for his bow.

Your feet guided you swiftly through the unfamiliar streets of Alexandria, following the directions Rick had given you at the gates. You repeated them to yourself over and over. Make a right, pass two houses, make a left, house on the corner.

You saw the house in the distance, Daryl's bike parked in the large driveway. The adrenaline pumping through your veins voided any anxieties.

You gently knocked on the door and awaited a response. You looked around the exterior trying to see any signs of life. The subtle orange glow of flames could be seen through the sheer curtains. Impulsively you grabbed the door handle allowing yourself entry.

Daryl stood up in an instant on high alert at the sound of the door. When your figure came into view through the darkness of the hallway, his tensed shoulders dropped. The only light was that of the various candles he'd lit amongst the kitchen.

"Y/n?" Daryl tossed the rag he'd cleaned his hands with on the kitchen table. "What are ya doin' here?" Your cheeks were puffy and cold from being in the harsh winter air for so long. The tip of your nose was frozen, completely cold to the touch. 

"I turned back. I went to Hilltop but Maggie sent me here.” You stutter over your words, “I had to see you." You walked closer to him slightly out of breath from your brisk walk over. Daryl's heart pounded against his chest. The warm glow within the darkness gleamed against your glassy eyes.

"I always told myself that if I ever saw you again, I wouldn't leave. That...I'd figure something out to make this work." 

Your lips formed together but you were reluctant to continue. 

"I wou-"

"Wha-" 

You cut each other off, words piling up together. 

"M'sorry." Daryl apologized, gesturing for you to continue. 

"I know I said it was too late but...I would like so much for us to have a second chance." 

Daryl swallowed harshly. Your expression goes from seeking to wary in a second at his silence. "I would like that too." You allowed yourself to breathe, a chuckle of relief leaving you.

You stepped toward him, practically collapsing into his arms. A sense of relief washed over you. You moved your arms to place them around him. Daryl had grown more broad than you'd seen him last, filling your outstretched arms so perfectly. You felt whole once again.

Daryl felt his body melt into yours. The tension he’d felt so heavily on his shoulders diminished. You welcomed nothing but the silence and the warmth of his body. It was as though neither of you could pull away, melting into one.

Daryl only pulled away to look at you when he felt your chest vibrate, examining if it was from laughter or tears. It was a mixture of both. He gently brushed your hair from your face, "What's wrong?"

You felt foolish for your disarray of emotions, wiping at a tear that tickled your cheek.

"You smell of pine."

Music played through the radio behind the bar, the radio station you’d flicked on was currently on a Fleetwood Mac streak. You were behind the bar with your notepad, taking inventory of the bottles for the week. Daryl was sitting at a nearby booth, polishing up whiskey glasses.

“We’re gonna try something new and start to slow things down for any of those late-night lovers out there.” The radio host announced after the last song came to an end.

You cocked an eyebrow at Daryl, who returned your confused expression. “Well, that’s new.” You laughed making your way from behind the counter.

Daryl hummed an agreement.

You listened intensively trying pinpoint the familiar tune that began to play. You smiled to yourself, Put Your Head On My Shoulder, began. It was a clique song that anyone and their mother would recognize but you couldn’t deny the catchiness of it. From your seat across Daryl, he watched you gently mouthing the words. You were too busy going over your notes to see him stealing looks at you.

Daryl smiled to himself. The dim lighting of the bar cast a shadow on your features. The scowl on your brows showed your deep concentration. Daryl admired the way your nose was casted perfectly to fit your face. He traced the outline of your lips as they moved with the lyrics. He swooned at the thought of you being no one else’s but his.

“Do you wanna dance together?” Daryl raised an eyebrow at you. “What?” You placed your notepad on the table, an amused look on your face. “I don’t know how to do that.” You chuckled, standing from the booth. “You don’t have to do much.” The song on the radio faded into, When a Man Loves a Women.

You held out a hand to him, edging him to follow. He reluctantly did so, calling you crazy.

You were unsure yourself how to dance. But something compelled you to try.

You placed your feet in front of his. You instructed his movements, directing him to hold your right hand up and place his other on your waist. You did so as if you had any idea what you were doing. You were merely repeating the stance you'd seen in so many movies. "Now just kinda sway."

Daryl awkwardly moved his body. You giggled to yourself, "You look stiff as a board." You teased.

"You kinda gotta move your feet too, like this."

The wood floors creaked beneath your moving feet. Daryl felt the way your hips glided beneath his hand. Daryl seemed to ease into the unfamiliar rhythm of this dance. He was unsure if this was really a "dance" but wether it was or wasn't, it didn't matter. Because it was yours and his.

Your chest began to feel heavy, an overwhelming sense of emotion hurdling toward you. With a heavy heart, you moved closer and took your chance to rest your head on his shoulder. He welcomed this, resting his own atop yours. Being so close to him now you relished in his scent. "You smell nice..." You complimented. The sweet smell of pine greeted you on his skin.

You couldn't complain about the fresh scent but you'd grown used to his scent typically being cigarette smoke and whatever soap was on sale at the market.

"Thanks...got a new soap 'n took a bath."

"A bath?" Your laugh vibrated Daryl's chest. You pulled your head from his shoulder meeting his eyes with a joyful gleam. "Yeah so?"

Your bodies swaying to the rhythm of the song didn't falter. "Was it a bubble bath?" You sniffed him again, "With some very manly scented bath salts?" Daryl rolled his eyes at your jest. "Yer not funny." The smile creeping on his face said otherwise. You found yourself lying on his shoulder again, the scent of pine greeting you once more.

The songs continued on the radio but no matter how many came and went, you couldn't seem to unlock your arms from him. You'd fall asleep right there if humanly possible. "Is it okay if I say I love you?" Your voice was meek like a timid mouse. Daryl placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"It's okay."

Daryl and you had eleven years together almost making up for the thirteen missed. You'd "married" in the Spring of the second year when Daryl surprised you with a flower field he'd come across while hunting; a ring for you safely hidden in his back pocket. It was a gold ring with three lavender-colored gemstones, and tiny pearls scattered around the stones imbedded in the band. He'd chosen a basic gold band for himself. The antique store had the set priced at $3,150 [before tax]. But it was his for free.

You met your demise on a sunny day in what was presumed to be March; when the sun shines warmth but the wind still provides a shiver. It would've been only days after your forty-seventh birthday.

We'll find each other again. You'd reassured him through your own pain.

People told him he was lucky to have been there to hold you a final time. But he didn't feel lucky. And he felt even less when he had to put that blade in your skull, preventing you from turning.

Daryl would never find another and he never left the home you'd built together. But this time, instead of running from the memory of you, he was able to embrace it. He'd read through the recipes you'd written and even tried to cook some. Though they never tasted how he remembered. You had something special in your cooking, a taste he could never replicate. I pour all my love for you into it, You'd joke when he'd ask.

He wore your ring on his pinky every day and wore nothing but black clothing as if always in mourning for you.

He never deemed himself someone who walked toward death but some days he found himself welcoming it, desiring nothing more than to be with you again.

Daryl knew he'd spend the rest of his time on this morbid earth in torment until he was to see you again.

[wasteful-sam]

Only the moon bore witness to his yearning [18+]

Tags: Rolan/f!Tav, solo, mast***tion, shameless smut.

Words: 1,228

PART TWO

Notes: Thank you so much, @bloodsuckingfiends, for your beautifully written post! It planted a tadpole-shaped hyperfixation into my brain and I had to extract it as soon as possible.

Well, now we know that Rolan's passion doesn't end with magic - he has found another perfect use for his skilled hands. (˶º⤙º˶)

The f!Tav's race in the story is unspecified, so it's easier for you, dear readers, to imagine your OC in their place. 𓆩♡𓆪

Summary: Overtaken by his desperate longing for Tav, Rolan seeks refuge in one of the secluded rooms of the Last Light Inn. Unable to resist the vivid fantasies haunting his mind, he has no choice but to pleasure himself, letting his desires take complete control.

He absolutely judges me for all the slander I've put him through in this shortfic.

[AO3]

The moon had already ascended above the Last Light Inn when Rolan burst into one of its unoccupied rooms. The tiefling looked frantically across the humble, crammed lodging - he must be absolutely sure there was not a single soul here to disturb him.

The chances of anyone occupying this area were slim to none. Hidden neatly on the inn's top floor, the dusty room only contained the most basic necessities: a flimsy wooden chair, a low cupboard, and a small but neatly made bed.

Wheezing heavily, Rolan locked the door behind him. Back pressed against it, he slowly descended on the floor. The tiefling drank heavily tonight, overjoyed by the rescue of his brother and sister from the Moonrise Towers earlier. But no amount of cheap wine could drown his insatiable hunger.

Evidently, something else mercilessly bothered Rolan - his lustful thoughts of Tav.

A single, humorous interaction with her turned the wizard into a bumbling, aroused mess of a man desperate for a release. He fought the feeling throughout the night, seeking distractions in meaningless small talk. But it was all in vain - Rolan was about to succumb to his primal needs.

Vision blurred, the tiefling murmured, "What a pathetic display," imagining how flustered and eager he must've looked at this very moment. His golden eyes glimmered wildly, fueled by the thrill of erotic fantasies that overcame him. Rolan began quickly unlacing his trousers, accepting that he must take care of his needs. Right here. Right now.

Enveloped by lust, the tiefling's mind drifted to the final conversation with Tav while his trembling hand was freeing his aching flesh.

It happened during a small celebration for the captives' return - Tav approached Cal, Lia, and Rolan. Being in a rare playful mood, the wizard greeted her with a sarcastic drawl, "I thanked you once already, don't be greedy."

A soft chuckle left her lips when Tav replied, "And if I ask nicely?"

The look she gave him after - a little challenging, a little coy, paired with that beautiful, genuine smile. A simple memory of it made Rolan's half-hard length twitch. The tiefling let out a shuddering breath as his right hand curled around its tip, slowly messaging sensitive ridges below it.

Tav laughed right after it, teasing that she just wanted to see a confused look on the wizard's face. Rolan regretted that he couldn't come up with a response back then - he knew a way or two to thank her properly.

Instead, he could only trail Tav across the room with his hungry gaze. Dressed in simple camp attire rather than her usual armor, she revealed tantalizing glimpses of smooth, radiant skin that seemed to glow in the dim light of the inn.

Rolan huffed, imagining how he would bend Tav over the bar, tearing those clothes ferociously. The thought of pressing hot, desperate kisses along her lips and neck drove him mad. Rolan shoved his clawed fingers into his mouth, sucking and biting at them impatiently while his hand stroked his throbbing cock.

His hips thrust in unison with his needy hand movements. A shameless, loud moan left his throat at a wild image of Tav swallowing his length. Thinking how hot and wet it must feel inside of her made the tiefling salivate even more. Rolan released his fingers from his mouth with a ringing pop. He gently rubbed his saliva all over his sensitive tip, just for a slight chance it would feel as good as if she was licking it instead.

If Tav could see him right now, would she be as aroused? The idea of her watching him - a moaning mess, his hairdo tousled, face glistening with sweat, body shivering in pleasure - sent a jolt down Rolan's spine. The tiefling's grip on his flesh tightened, fingers tracing over its swollen veins and ridges.

"Please, open your sweet mouth for me," he whispered in exhaustion, picturing Tav kneeling before him, rubbing her plump lips teasingly all over his pulsating cock, smudging his precum all over her pretty cheeks. The wizard's free hand slid underneath his shirt, grabbing and clawing at his chest. No, in his mind, it was her hand caressing him ecstatically, praising his stature and ridges, as she touched her soaking folds.

Her soaking folds. Just a thought of it made Rolan's breathing twice as heavy, his core ready to burst. The wizard's tongue slid hungrily against the inside of his mouth, imagining the taste of her - sweet, heady, addictive. He'd give away everything he owned just to bury his tongue inside her, to drown in her honeyed heat while she screamed his name over and over and over again.

But it wasn't enough. Rolan's hand couldn't replicate what his fantasies demanded. He needed more - needed to fuck Tav raw, to bury himself deep inside her heat until he lost his mind.

Panting heavily, Rolan stumbled to the old bed. Luckily, the mattress was still sturdy enough. Afraid to lose the moment of spiraling pleasure, the tiefling hastily curled his tail around his core, its grip tight. Rolan's hand was around his flushed, leaking tip again, stroking and teasing it as he pressed into the mattress.

"Be as greedy as you want," the wizard rasped, imagining Tav bare underneath him, her folds quivering in anticipation.

He began thrusting wildly up and down the mattress, biting at his other hand to muffle the inadequate moans that his drunk, lustful mind conjured. The wizard gave up on being discreet pretty soon, as his hand needed to grab a pillow to steady his ecstasy-shivered body.

His tip was twitching uncontrollably, seeking Tav's tight, wet slit.

Rolan breathed sharply, trying to recall her smell: a mix of sun-warmed leather, wild lilies, and a campfire. Oh, how nicely it would match with his own musk - he'd rub his whole body against hers to let the smell of their passion linger on her for days.

His tail now ground uncontrollably all around his length, trying desperately to keep up with his quick thrusting. Seeking even more friction, Rolan pressed his hand around it, his grip tight and aggressive. The tiefling's head has fallen onto the pillow as his back arched, mouth agape, trying to catch air. The pillow got quickly drenched with sweat and saliva, as he was no longer able to control his jaw, overtaken by ecstasy. His hand and tail were now moving with no direction, desperate for a release.

His mind went into a frenzy, throwing the most lude images at Rolan: him biting at her nipples, her lustful expression as she whimpered underneath him, his bulging cock pounding into her quivering walls.

"You are mine," the tiefling growled as the final vision emerged: him spilling his seed deep inside her, claiming her completely.

The final thought finally made him succumb to a shuttering orgasm, spreading his hot release all over his hand and tail. Exhausted, Rolan plopped flat into the bed, panting restlessly. His hand lazily smeared the mess along his length, already coaxing himself toward a second round. There was one thing about the future Master of Ramazith's Tower that he was too embarrassed to admit: once set ablaze by his fantasies, Rolan could pleasure himself for hours without end.

Taking a moment to rest, Rolan opened a window to let in some fresh air. Only the moon bore witness to his yearning.

[smallestapplin]

Lay here for just a moment

Commissioned by @reallyshadowycollective !

Summary : you haven’t heard from Swerve in a moment and you can’t help but worry about him, so off you go to find him!

Warnings : Swerve being depressed and feeling useless(he gets loved on dw.)

Word count : 900

-

-

When you hadn’t seen Swerve or gotten a call from him for the first day you were worried, but maybe he just got busy with the bar or something, things happen! Even if he did always manage to at least call you as you both worked, maybe something came up, that’s not a crime. The second day you didn’t hear from him you grew more concerned, so much so after all your work on the Lost Light you went right to the bar to see him, just…that didn’t feel like him, you knew holograms were common use for Cybertronians, and this felt like that.

By day three you were already making your way to his habsuite with some energon in hand, he had given you the code to get in ages ago for movie nights so you didn’t feel bad for barging in. Your stern glare softens instantly at the state of his habsuite, it’s a mess, blankets you two had shared covered the floor, things knocked over and left there, but on his berth there he laid, face down and unmoving. You move around the mess carefully, letting the door close automatically behind you.

“Swerve?” You softly call out, but to no response.

You set the energon cubes by the head of his berth before climbing up, thanking primus he’s a minibot so it’s not too much of a struggle. Once on the metal slab you walk towards him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder giving him a light shake, well, as shake as best you could.

“Swerve,” you call again, “you gotta wake up, I brought some energon for ya.”

His dim visor slowly begins to brighten showing he’s waking up, you watch it stay a steady soft blue for a moment before he seems to process you’re right there. 

“M’sorry, didn’t hear ya come in.” 

Your heart breaks at how weak he sounds, how devoid of energy and life his tone is. You lean against his helm in a makeshift hug, yet he doesn’t move to return the gesture. No big deal, you think, you can carry the energy for the both of you.

“I was so worried when you didn’t call after work, I tried calling you but it went straight to voicemail. I brought you some energon, it’s probably not a lot, it's just what I could carry.” You can barely stop yourself from rambling as you smile at him, just happy to see him again.

Swerve stares for a minute, then another, so long you open your mouth to ask him something before you notice tears leaking onto the berth below him, just as he sluggishly brings a servo up to cover his face plate before rolling away from you, his back strut now facing you as he curls into himself.

“There’s no point, just leave me here.” 

You frown at his words but that won’t stop you, you walk around to his face ignoring his mild confusion as you sit right under his chin, flopping over to lay down and cuddling closer.

“Fine, then I’ll lay here with you.” You nuzzle your cheek against his neck cables before getting comfy.

The habsuite falls silent the most Swerve can hear anymore is your soft breathing.

Why are you here, why did you care to come visit him when he’s been ignoring you? He’s useless, he doesn’t see or understand why you’d even bother with someone as pathetic as him. Swerve can feel your warmth against him, it’s comforting even if he believes he doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve you.

Yet here he is greedy for you and your touch.

Swerve bites his derma trying to stifle a sob threatening to tumble from his throat, but his frame begins to shake trying to hold it all in as more tears slide across his nasal ridge.

You don’t say anything, it’s clear he needs this, but you lightly press your head to his chin much like a cat offering affection. You press a kiss to his neck cables silently assuring him you are there for him.

Swerve brings his servos up, cupping around you to hold you close to him as he quietly cries, unable to process how you even tolerate him, he’s a mess, he’s a nobody, he and his bar are just taking up space.

“Swervy,” oh how his spark clenches at your soft voice, “you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, but just know I’m always here for you, I love you, okay? No matter how mean your brain module is to you, that won’t change how I feel about you, there isn’t anything I won’t do for you.”

Swerve squeezes his optics shut as he lets out all his tears, sobs wrecking his frame as he clings to you. You place soft kisses wherever you can reach, gently rubbing your hand across the top of his servos trying to soothe him. You’ll stay with him no matter what, once he is done crying you’ll try to get him to eat, maybe turn a sitcom on and let him gain a little more energy.

But for now you sit here, listening and gently shushing him as he tries to apologize for worrying you, he’s sorry for it all, he loves you too, he babbles, but you just smile and lay against him helping him get it all out.

[thesiltverses]

The horror of Eric Carle

Becoming a dad has really been a reminder of all the half-forgotten books that got me interested in horror: the ones that I will definitely share with my kid (The Minpins) and the ones that I probably won't (Not Now, Bernard)

And then there's Eric Carle, and now it's all coming flooding back - the very first time in my life that I experienced terror. Seriously, what the fuck is this?

Carle's most famous book, The Very Hungry Caterpillar, is in its own way uneasy and strange (the caterpillar's voracious and growing hunger is presented ambiguously both as an unavoidable and natural process of change and something greedy and grotesque; the caterpillar appears to devour its own place-of-birth and then feels good about it) but it flies under the radar by being very unCarle-like. The caterpillar is largely tiny and cute, we get plenty of colourful close-ups of tasty-looking food, and there are only two pages and a cover which feature Carle's favourite preoccupation: giant animals with irregular, scissor-cut eyes staring unhappily at the reader as they threaten to grow larger than the page itself.

I genuinely remember feeling deeply unnerved by Carle's first major piece of illustration work, Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?, written with Bill Martin Jr., but only now do I understand why. Holy shit, I have so many questions.

Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What do you see? I see a red bird looking at me.

Why is the rhyme-scheme so frantic and breathless, like it's being chanted out during an escalating ritual somewhere deep in the forests? Why are the animals - textured via collage as if half-carved from wood themselves - staring directly at us, the audience, before then revealing that they're actually looking behind us at something else which is staring back at them in turn? Why do so many of the animals look so fearful and haunted as they acknowledge the vast web of visibility which exists between them?

Why does the 'white dog' page - perhaps the only-genuinely-friendly-looking animal - briefly plunge us into night-time, creating the impression that these creatures are somehow watching each other across spans of time and space, when Carle is fully capable of just drawing an outline around the dog?

Why is the teacher's neck extending like a xenomorph's tongue as she glares with narrowed eyes down at the children (what horrible act have they caught her doing?) Why is the cover of follow-up Polar Bear, Polar Bear, What Do You Hear clearly depicting a Tuunbaq stalking the reader?

What seems remarkable and bizarre is that Carle, a talented artist, deliberately chooses to draw animals for infant readers which are neither cute nor charming but which consistently embody the internet joke about hares - feral wilderness prophets who've glimpsed the truth of the universe and gone mad - and has made a stunningly successful career out of doing so.

Carle's beasts know something terrible that they do not fully understand, and which they are incapable of sharing with us.

I'll avoid the crass temptation to draw serious biographical inferences here (Carle believed he had PTSD from an adolescence spent in Nazi Germany, and his works were inspired by his childhood walks with his father, who returned home psychologically shattered by his own experiences as a Soviet prisoner-of-war) and just say that there is something wonderful, awful and innocent in the fact that perhaps the most popular baby-book artist of all time, when asked to draw a goldfish, would respond with what is clearly a monstrous open-mouthed leviathan rising up from black depths to devour us all.

Look at this horrible fucking thing. It rocks.

[luxerians]

The Last Mask (19)

Hwang In-ho/Oh Young-il/Player 001 x Reader

Chapter 19 - Heart

Story Masterlist

NEXT : Chapter 20.1

PREV : Chapter 18.1

[Hwang In-ho’s Flashback…]

In-ho could tell how friendly, kind, and unassuming you were. He had only known you for days, but through careful observation, he had begun to understand the kind of person you were. Your interactions with others painted a clear picture.

When another player glanced at you and you noticed, you would look back and smile. That simple gesture often left the other person flustered or smiling in return. It was effortless, the way you made people feel at ease.

Whenever you spoke with Jun-hee, your hand would often drift toward her hair, brushing through it with a tender touch. When she asked why, or if something was wrong with her hair, you would simply laugh and say you liked messing with people’s hair. It was a harmless joke, but Jun-hee knew better. You weren’t messing with her hair. You were combing it gently, absentmindedly offering comfort through the smallest gestures. And she let you because she understood. It was just your way of showing care.

It wasn’t just with Jun-hee. You had a way of making everyone feel seen. If someone was nervous, you reassured them. If one was isolated in the group, you included them. If someone preferred silence, you stayed silent. Your kindness wasn’t just in words; it was in your actions, the way you instinctively reached out, making those around you feel safe.

But In-ho wondered. Would that kindness persist when your life is at risk? He wanted to see you in such a situation.

Would you still be as caring toward others if it meant putting yourself in danger? If players turned on one another to reduce the numbers, if it became a fight for survival, would you cling to your kindness? Or would you prove what In-ho already knew about humanity? That when it came down to it, people were selfish, greedy, and willing to sacrifice anyone to save themselves? The only real difference was how well one could hide that truth.

On another note, your friendliness made others naturally gravitate toward you. You were like home – warm and welcoming. Helpful. People sought you out, drawn to the ease with which you carried yourself. So it didn’t surprise In-ho to see other players striking up conversations with you, especially those who had questionable intentions.

That evening, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom, even asking Jun-hee if she wanted to go too. But Jun-hee smiled and declined, leaving you to go alone to the female’s restroom.

And, as always, In-ho watched.

Fifteen minutes had passed, and In-ho grew concerned. Amidst Jung-bae’s recounting of his past antics, In-ho found himself glancing around, wondering what was taking you so long to return.

Then again, he reminded himself – you were a woman. Men usually went to the restroom, handled their business, washed their hands, and left. Women, on the other hand, often took longer. He had learned this from years of living with his late wife, recognizing the small habits and routines that differed.

Still, an uneasy feeling settled in his chest. He forced himself to focus back on the conversation between Jung-bae and Dae-ho, while Gi-hun, seated nearby, sat silently with his gaze down, glowering.

After staring at him quietly, In-ho then tilted his head back up. And his entire face fell.

Near the entrance of the female restroom, he saw you and you weren’t alone. Three men surrounded you. Their stances seemed imposing as if they were cornering you without touching you.

His heartbeat spiked. He zeroed in on your expression.

You looked anxious. Your posture screamed discomfort, your hands tense at your sides. You wanted to step away, to put space between yourself and them but every time you shifted, they followed, subtly blocking your path.

In-ho had seen enough.

He pushed himself up from his seat and strode toward them. Adrenaline already coursed through his veins. He braced himself, ready to subdue these three boys if needed to, just as he had when he put a certain purple-haired punk and his lizard-faced lackey in their place.

As In-ho closed the distance, he caught the tail end of the conversation between you and the three boys.

“Just a quick chat with us. You’ve been hanging out with those uncles all day. Switch it up for a bit,” one of them said, and In-ho immediately pegged him as the ringleader.

His friend chimed in, “Yeah, come on. We’re not asking for much. Just a little time to get to know you better.”

“Exactly. It’s not like we’re asking you to stay forever. Just stop by. We’ve got a good spot over there,” the third one added.

The smile on your face was tight, forced. “I appreciate the offer, but really, I need to get back. Maybe another time.”

“Why not now?” the ringleader pressed.

That was when In-ho finally spoke, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. “She said no.”

The group’s attention snapped to him, frozen under his presence. His voice was sharp and final. His dark glare bore into the ringleader.

Fear flashed across the ringleader’s face but he covered it up quickly, forcing a casual front. “Oh, hey. We just want to have a chat with her. It’s okay, right?”

In-ho didn’t slow his pace. He closed the remaining gap, stepping between you and the ringleader intentionally. You ended up behind him, entirely shielded by his body. His gaze never wavered from the ringleader – player 299.

“You’re pressuring her. That’s not how conversations work,” he said, voice even but carrying an edge.

Silence settled between the group. The ringleader’s friends exchanged uneasy glances. A moment ago, they had been bold, confident, enjoying cornering you. Now, they looked like hyenas caught in the presence of a lion. Ready to bolt the second he moved.

The ringleader stared at In-ho, his expression flickering between defiance and calculation. He wanted to fight back, to act as if he wasn’t intimidated. But he knew better. Everyone in this room had seen what In-ho was capable of. The way he handled the purple-haired rapper and his lackey had been a clear message.

Forcing a smile, the ringleader raised his hands mockingly. “Alright, alright. I get it. I apologize. I didn’t realize I was being forceful.”

He tried to peek around In-ho’s shoulder, calling your name. That ticked something inside him.

“Sorry about that,” the ringleader added as if he expected his words to smooth over the situation.

In-ho’s glare hardened, silencing him into submission. His blood boiled at the audacity of these boys, thinking they could corner and coerce you. There was no respect from boys nowadays. They were like dogs, preying on any girl who smiled at them out of mere politeness.

Without a word, In-ho turned to you. His expression softened instinctively. “Let’s go.”

He led you back toward your group. You followed quietly, and though you hadn’t said anything, he could feel the tension in you. You had noticed how rigid he was, how his shoulders remained tense even as he walked.

Just before reaching the others, he suddenly stopped and turned. His hand came up, gently grasping your forearm. You looked up at him, the dormitory noise fading into the background as your eyes met.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

You nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”

But he didn’t let go. There was something else gnawing at him.

“How does he know your name?” he asked. His voice carried a slight edge.

“He asked during the voting earlier,” you replied simply. “We were in the crowd, and he came over and introduced himself.”

Your answer was clear, direct. No hesitation. No nonsense. He appreciated that.

But those boys had approached you before? Right behind his back? Literally?

In-ho scoffed inwardly, his expression betraying nothing. Who do they think they are, asking for your name? He thought. Immature, desperate, like perverted dogs pressuring a girl simply because she was kind to them. They didn’t deserve you.

You deserved someone who could lead and guide you. Someone mature, someone who wouldn’t take advantage of your kindness. A man who could take care of everything so you wouldn’t have to think twice about anything. You deserved stability, protection, and ease – things those boys could never offer.

His gaze lingered on yours longer than intended, and for the first time, he truly took in your features. Your eyes – so striking, so expressive – held him in place, and he found himself appreciating them in a way he hadn’t before.

Then his gaze drifted downward.

Your lips. Soft, plump, even with the dry cracks from dehydration in this place. A thought flickered through his mind before he caught himself. His jaw tensed and he quickly averted his gaze, shifting to your left eye before ultimately lowering his eyes altogether.

“If those boys bother you again, tell me,” he said.

You didn’t answer immediately, and the silence made him glance at you again. Your expression was unreadable at first but then he saw it. You were stunned. As though you hadn’t expected him to say that. It’s as if his words had landed somewhere deep inside you.

But then something changed.

You withdrew. Not just in expression, but in movement. You stepped back, putting space between you both. Then, your tone was polite but firm when you spoke, “Thanks, but don’t worry. I can take care of myself.”

He said nothing.

For the first time in a long time, In-ho felt thrown off balance. He had seen hesitation before, seen people second-guess their words or actions. But this was different. This was retreat.

It was as if you no longer wanted to be associated with him.

And that realization stung in a way he hadn’t expected.

Could it be that you were acting this way because of Gi-hun? Because you knew he had a wife?

Had Gi-hun really ruined everything?

Without waiting for a response, you walked away and rejoined the group. You sat next to Jun-hee, keeping your focus on the others, pretending not to look in his direction. But In-ho wasn’t fooled. He saw it. And he sat there, staring at you in stunned silence.

The next few hours were awkward between you both. Jung-bae and Dae-ho kept the conversations lively, jumping from topic to topic, and you always joined in. At one point, In-ho interjected, responding to something you said, hoping you would acknowledge him.

Imagine his surprise when you merely gave him a polite, forced smile before turning to someone else and changing the subject entirely. No one else noticed, but he did.

He knew right away. You were distancing yourself from him. For your own sake, for his, and for his late wife’s. That had to be it.

In-ho clenched his jaw, suppressing the frustration brewing inside him. He wanted to tell you the truth – that his wife had passed years ago.  But the two of you needed privacy so he could tell you that. He wanted to tell you that after his wife and baby’s death, he trapped himself in isolation. He wanted to tell you that your presence had been the first real thing to pull him out of it. That, if anything, he just wanted to exist near you for as long as he could… until your true nature reveals itself, and your elimination inevitably follows.

Because at this point he still believed that.

He still thought that, at your core, you were no different from anyone else. That your kindness, your warmth, was just a mask – just like his. He wanted to wait and see. To prove himself right.

But how could he bask in your presence if you are already slipping away?

***

“We need to take turns keeping watch after lights-out. I’ll take the first watch. The rest of you should decide the order,” Gi-hun said as he adjusted the mattress beneath a bed.

Dae-ho pointed out, “Other than that, we have to figure out who’s sleeping where.”

After he, Jun-hee, and Jung-bae claimed their spots, In-ho turned to you. He noticed the way you were contemplating your choice, eyes scanning the available spaces.

With a soft voice, measured and polite, he asked, “Which spot do you want to take?”

You glanced around before finally pointing. “I’ll take the middle floor.”

In-ho followed your gaze, noting the empty mattresses on either side of your chosen spot. If he took either one, it would place him close to you – perhaps too close. He wondered if that would make you uncomfortable. But you had already made your decision.

“I’ll sleep under the bed on your left,” he said. “That means Gi-hun will take the one on your right.”

Dae-ho nodded. “Now we just have to decide the order for keeping watch.”

“I’ll take the second watch, after Gi-hun,” Jung-bae volunteered.

“Third watch here,” Dae-ho raised his hand.

As In-ho stepped closer to collect the extra pillows and blanket from your arms, you spoke up unexpectedly, “Can I keep watch too?”

He didn’t have to look up to know that everyone in the group was staring at you in surprise. As he took the pillows and blanket from your hands, causing the brief brush of your fingers against his, you helped handing them to him gently. Then you added, “How about the last watch? I can wake up early.”

Dae-ho was the first to respond. “Ladies don’t have to. You and Jun-hee should take a full rest.”

“Yeah, no need for you to worry about keeping watch,” Jung-bae added. “We’ve got this.”

You hesitated. In-ho, on the other hand, quietly placed the pillows and blanket onto your plain mattress.

“But it’s fine if I take the last watch,” you said, lowering your gaze. “I want to freshen up before the next game anyway.”

An idea formed in In-ho’s mind. Before anyone else could refute your offer, he straightened up and spoke, “Okay, you take the last watch.”

Everyone turned to him in confusion. In-ho glanced at the others briefly before settling his gaze on you.

“I’ll take the fourth watch, after Dae-ho,” he continued. “Then it’s your turn. But I’ll keep watch with you. It’s not safe for you to do it alone.”

The group accepted his suggestion and went back to adjusting their mattresses. In-ho caught the flicker of conflict on your face before he turned to his own mattress. He knew you wanted to distance yourself from him. And yet, here he was, making sure he still had moments with you. He could tell you were conflicted. But you didn’t reject him outright, and that was enough.

That night, sleep didn’t come to him immediately. He lay still, eyes closed, waiting for exhaustion to pull him under. But then, he heard Jun-hee get up from her mattress, quietly asking Gi-hun for permission to go to the bathroom. A moment later, you got up to accompany her.

Many minutes passed before the two of you returned with Player 149 in tow. After tucking the flushed-face Jun-hee in, you and Gi-hun bid Player 149 good night, and she left.

In-ho assumed you would go back to your mattress. But instead, you sat down next to Gi-hun on the floor and asked him about his previous game.

In-ho became fully alert. Any trace of drowsiness vanished. Now, he was intrigued. You and Gi-hun had barely spoken before, and yet here you were, finally engaging in a private conversation.

He wondered what kind of discussion you would have. Would Gi-hun tell you about his past experiences? Would he reveal his reason for returning? Would he reveal his plan to you? Worse, would he mention his suspicions about him?

Nonetheless, it was better to let them talk.

At first, Gi-hun didn’t respond. The silence stretched, and In-ho watched as you hesitated, disappointment flickering across your face. He almost thought that was the end of it.

But then, to his mild astonishment, Gi-hun spoke.

He told you about his previous time in these games, about the friendships he formed, the games he played, and the brutal reality of being pitted against his late best friend in the final round.

“This place turns everyone into something they’re not,” Gi-hun said. “It doesn’t matter how strong your friendship is. The games are designed to break it.”

Still clinging to that, player 456? In-ho mused darkly.

It wasn’t the games that changed people. The games merely revealed what was already there. Stripped away the pretense. Put lives on the line and exposed the rot beneath. This place didn’t break people. It forced them to confront their own selfishness.

The conversation shifted to the additional rule – the ability for players to vote after every game.

You were surprised, of course. The last time Gi-hun was here, that option hadn’t existed.

“And I have a feeling why the overseer of this game made that change,” Gi-hun said.

“Why?” you asked, curiosity lacing your voice.

“He wanted to prove to me that it’s not the games’ fault that players die,” Gi-hun murmured. “It’s the players themselves. They’re the ones who choose to stay in this game, no matter how much they earn or how high the stakes get.”

A slow smirk almost curled onto In-ho’s lips. Exactly. So, he noticed. But does he realize how wrong he is and his naïve idealism?

“Who is… the overseer of this game?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, but even in the hushed silence of the dormitory, In-ho heard it clearly.

Gi-hun replied, “The one who controls this game. I’m sure the guards call him Captain.”

In-ho’s entire face fell. His body stiffened. How does he know that?

Only insiders or the guards knew about that title. Had he overheard some careless guard mention it? If so, those guards had been reckless.

But then the realization struck him.

Jun-ho. Of course.

The evening before the first game, after Gi-hun eliminated the recruiter, went to the club and entered his limousine, there had been other cars trailing behind. But In-ho had been three steps ahead. His pink guards had sniped the tires of those vehicles, eliminating pursuit. The guards then relayed the intel to him afterward, even the appearance of those pursuers.

One of the stalkers was his brother – Jun-ho. The guard took a picture of him so clearly because he got out of his useless car and stood there. He must be listening to the conversation in the limousine through the recorder Gi-hun had brought with him.

Not only that.

His guard – who was the one responsible for transporting new players through the private ferry – had also informed him about Jun-ho’s persistent attempts to locate the island. The guard had been unable to return to duty because Jun-ho kept looking for him for help finding the island. In-ho then ordered him to take some time off, to ensure Jun-ho never got any closer. String him along until he gives up.

So, Gi-hun and Jun-ho were working together to find the island and apprehend me.

In-ho’s expression darkened. Jun-ho must have told Gi-hun a lot, but not everything.

He didn’t tell him who the Front Man really is.

Jun-ho, his younger half-brother, had withheld the most crucial piece of information. If he had shown Gi-hun a picture or even mentioned his name, Gi-hun would have reacted the moment he saw him. He would have screamed, raged, done something.

But he hadn’t.

For now, his identity was still safe.

“Gi-hun, how do you know so much?” you asked him.

“I came back here for a reason,” Gi-hun replied. “I will do whatever it takes to prove to this ‘Captain’… that the world has changed.”

You tilted your head slightly. “Have you met this Captain?”

“Not directly,” he admitted. “But he sees us like horses. Trash, he said. We are just mere trash to him.”

In-ho remained silent. Humanity, when pushed to the corner, revealed its ugliest side. He had seen it in the players, in the VIPs, in everyone who had stepped into this place thinking they could win their way out. The rot had always been there. This game merely stripped away the illusion.

Then Gi-hun’s posture eased. His voice softened as he told you that you reminded him of someone – a friend he had made in this place named Ali. In-ho knew exactly who he was talking about. A foreigner, rare among the players.

“He must have been a kind guy,” you said gently. There was warmth in your tone. In-ho could hear your smile even without looking.

“One of the kindest I’ve ever met,” Gi-hun admitted. “He trusted too easily, though.”

“Is that why I reminded you of him? Because I trust too easily?”

“No,” Gi-hun said. “It’s because you’re all smiles and helpful, even in this dark place. He didn’t make it. But he showed me that even in the darkest times, there’s room for kindness.”

Silence settled between you two, heavy yet not uncomfortable. In-ho opened his eyes and glanced over.

You and Gi-hun were smiling at each other. Warm, understanding smiles. Like something between you had clicked into place, like you had grown closer in a matter of minutes.

Something dark twisted inside In-ho.

***

Finally, it was your turn to keep watch. In-ho gently woke you up, but the moment your eyes opened, he noticed how red they were. Guilt settled deep in his chest. He hated waking you when you clearly needed rest.

Yet even when he offered to take over your shift, you refused. You forced yourself to stay awake, even as exhaustion weighed heavily on you, your eyes still half-lidded with fatigue.

He told you to wash your face, to at least wake yourself up properly. Again, you refused. You explained how difficult it had been for you and Jun-hee to convince the guard to let you use the restroom earlier, and you didn’t want to deal with that again.

But In-ho needed you fully awake before he initiated the conversation he had planned.

So he led you to the door leading to the restroom. Once the two of you stood before it, In-ho knocked. No response. He knocked again, and finally, a soldier appeared behind the circular window.

In-ho met the soldier’s masked gaze without hesitation. “She needs to use the restroom. Let her in.”

The words came out too commanding, too firm – dangerously out of place for someone who was supposed to be just another player.

The soldier stared at him in silence before sliding the window shut. Glancing at you, In-ho caught the flicker of confusion on your face.

A few seconds later, the door opened. The same soldier stood there, now flanked by two more guards.

In-ho turned to you. “Go. I’ll keep watch for you.”

You stepped inside. As you moved past the guards, In-ho’s gaze darkened, turning toward them.

His voice was low, firm, instinctual. “Guard her.”

Your head snapped back toward him, startled. In-ho realized – again – how naturally the order had left his mouth. Years of command couldn’t be erased overnight. Whenever he interacted with his guards, that part of him always surfaced.

And he had let it slip again.

In-ho watched as the guards positioned themselves, one in front and one behind, guiding you toward the female’s restroom. His gaze lingered on the soldier left guarding the door, noting the way he stiffened and instinctively lowered his head in his presence. Satisfied, In-ho finally turned away as the door shut behind him.

It didn’t take long for you to return. Without hesitation, you sat beside him on the floor.

“If I’d known the guards wouldn’t deny you bathroom access earlier, I would have woken you up,” you muttered. “When Jun-hee, the mother, Hyun-ju, and I went earlier, the guards denied us entry. Twice.”

In-ho remained silent, watching you as you spoke, simply taking in your presence. There was something grounding about you, something he had no business feeling in a place like this.

“The mother had to yell, ‘What did I do in my previous life?’ to finally make them let us in,” you added.

A chuckle escaped his lips. Light, genuine. He hadn’t expected that. He realized how human he felt whenever he spoke with you. For brief moments, you made him forget what he was – who he was. The way you told stories, the way you joked, it made him feel something he hadn't allowed himself in a long time.

“At least it worked in the end,” he mused, glancing at you with an ease he rarely allowed himself. “But if you or the others ever need to go at times like this, wake me up. I’ll handle it.”

Once silence settled between you two, In-ho finally took the chance to speak about what had been weighing on his mind – his wife. His late wife.

He told you nearly everything. How her condition worsened, how she had been pregnant, how he had borrowed as much money as he could to try to save her. How, after her death, he had felt nothing but anger – at the world, at himself. How he felt suicidal. And how, in the end, he returned to the ‘program’, the only place where he last had a purpose in life.

You piece everything together fairly quick, which made it easier to tell you what no one else knew.

“I was a winner of this game in the year 2015,” he admitted.

Your expression shifted, but you remained silent, waiting.

“I didn't tell Gi-hun. I never told anyone this. I don’t want to be seen as the winner or a hero. All I want is to do these games and… find the slightest bit of purpose in life,” he said.

He swallowed, trying to suppress the tightness in his throat, the emotions clawing their way up.

“I’m sorry for what you’ve gone through,” you murmured softly.

He glanced at you then, feeling the moisture in his eyes begin to dry. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault. Life has a way of… pushing you into corners you didn’t even know existed.”

“Still,” you said, your gaze filled with something raw, something that made his chest tighten, “what you’ve endured… it’s more than anyone should bear.”

“And yet,” he said, exhaling, “in these games, I found something.”

Your wide eyes locked onto his, innocent, questioning. And in that moment, he realized just how intensely he had been staring at you.

Why were you so special?

He had come into these games to spy on Gi-hun, to uncover whatever plan he had been hatching. That was his mission. That was his focus. And yet, somehow, somewhere along the way, that focus had shifted.

It wasn’t just Gi-hun anymore.

It was you.

He wanted to know you. To figure you out. Were you truly as kind as you seemed or was it all just a mask, like everyone else? Was there a point where your goodness would crack, revealing the same selfishness that resided in all human beings?

Is your compassion truly genuine, the kind that you would stop and help a homeless man on a freezing night?

Would you prove him wrong, the way Gi-hun had proven Oh Il-nam wrong? That kindness still existed, that someone would stop to help a homeless man in the cold, even when Il-nam refused to believe it till his last breath? Would In-ho finally witness real change through you?

Would you be the exception to the rule, the one thing that made him believe in something again?

“A purpose,” he finally said, his voice steady, resolved. Yes, he has a purpose now.

You waited, holding your breath.

“I thought it was impossible,” he admitted. “That after everything I’ve been through, after losing my wife, I’d never feel it again. But now…”

Now, he had found something.

Or rather, someone.

“I’ve found something worth protecting in this world,” he finished, his gaze locked onto yours.

“Young-il, if you…” you hesitated, your voice barely above a whisper. “If you mean what I think you mean, you’d have to tell me. I can’t just assume.”

In-ho shifted closer, closing the space between you. “I want to take care of you… not just as a friend, but as something more.”

And as those words left his lips, he knew, deep down, why he had said them.

Because you made him feel human again. Because in your presence, the suffocating emptiness he had lived with for years loosened, even if just slightly. Because for the first time in a long time, he wanted something – someone – for himself, not just for survival, not just for the sake of proving a point, but because he needed you.

And he hoped to God you wouldn't turn out to be as trashy as everyone else. If so, there was no hope for him in humanity anymore.

“I know that this place is hell,” he resumed, staring at you unwaveringly. “It’s not the kind of place anyone should be finding hope. But you… you’ve brought hope. Hope that the world has given me a gift.”

That after so much suffering and isolation, you were the reward. He wondered if his wife knew how miserable he was – if she had somehow sent him an angel to remind him what it was like to feel something real again.

“Young-il…” you softly called him, too in disbelief to say anything else.

“I’m not asking for anything you’re not ready to give. But let me protect you. Not because we’re stuck in this place, but because… I care about you.”

The words felt foreign even as they left his lips. Caring wasn’t something he had allowed himself in years. Not since he buried his wife. Not since he lost himself to this place.

But you were different.

You made him feel human again, something he had sworn he would never allow. You carried warmth where there should have been nothing but cold indifference. You made him want to believe – just for a second – that there was still something worth saving in this world.

Yet, he couldn’t be naive. He wouldn’t be.

Because despite everything, he still wanted to see your true nature.

Was your kindness genuine or was it simply another mask? Would you still be the same when the desperation set in, when the games pushed you to your limits? Or would you prove him right? That, in the end, everyone was just as selfish as the rest?

So he would stay. He would protect you, care for you – but not just because he needed you. Because he wanted to know.

Because if you turned out to be different, if you were truly as good as you seemed… maybe, just maybe, he could believe again.

***

[The next morning…]

Maybe this was what you felt when you had the urge to brush Jun-hee’s hair. Because when In-ho saw a strand of your hair clinging to your cheek, he felt the same pull.

As the two of you walked toward the center of the dormitory to prepare for the next game, he stepped closer, gently tucking the stray strand behind your ear with his left hand.

You were caught off guard. Your shy smile was unexpected, but he responded with a small one of his own. Neither of you spoke as you followed the rest of the group into the center.

You had been right. No wonder you often combed Jun-hee’s hair. It felt good. Affectionate. Natural.

Then, the next game – Mingle – began.

For the first round, your group and Player 120’s teamed up, moving into a room together. As the eliminations started, In-ho didn’t watch the players being taken down. He watched you.

He saw the way your expression fell, the way your body tensed as the shots rang out. You still cared. You still flinched at the loss of strangers.

Was it real? Would it last?

Suddenly, Gi-hun stepped beside you, resting a hand on your shoulder. “You okay?”

In-ho’s gaze snapped to him instantly, taking in the concern in his voice. Something dark stirred inside him. Did Gi-hun really think a single conversation between the two of you gave him that right? That privilege?

The rest of the group spoke words of encouragement, but In-ho tuned them out. His focus was on Gi-hun’s hand. It lingered too long.

Unnecessary. Intrusive. Unwelcome.

“We can manage this as long as we stay calm and stay together,” player 120 said.

“That’s right,” In-ho agreed, stepping to your other side. His arm came around your shoulders, his hand bumping against Gi-hun’s.

Gi-hun hesitated, then slowly withdrew his hand.

In-ho ignored him. Instead, he gave you a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. We’ll prioritize the ladies first.”

All of you left the room once the door was unlocked. In-ho kept to your side as you followed the others toward the platform. That’s when he noticed someone walking a little too close to you.

He glanced over. It was the ringleader of the boys who had cornered you last evening. His gaze was sharp, filled with something between resentment and challenge. His grudge wasn’t just against you – it was against In-ho too.

A flicker of irritation passed through him. He glanced at your face, immediately noticing the concern tightening your features. Feeling that urge again, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you slightly closer. You looked up at him, eyes wide in astonishment.

“Ignore them,” he murmured.

You nodded, letting him guide you forward, his arm never loosening. But as he walked, he cast one final glance at the ringleader and his lackeys – a silent, menacing glare that told them everything they needed to know.

When the second round began, your hand instinctively reached for his sleeve again. Just like you had during the first round. It was unconscious, a small act of seeking balance, but it stirred something in him nonetheless. You were like a lost kitten clinging to him for steadiness.

And he found it… endearing.

This time, however, fate pulled him away. He and Gi-hun separated themselves from you and the rest. In-ho remained silent, but he watched Gi-hun closely. Observed the way he moved, the way he placed himself at risk for the others. He was just like you – kind, selfless, frustratingly so.

But In-ho didn’t say a word. He simply watched.

Once the guards finished cleaning up the arena, except for the blood, he and Gi-hun reunited with the others. He expected relief especially from you, but what he didn’t expect was the warmth and happiness from everybody else.

You, Jung-bae, Dae-ho, Jun-hee – all of you welcomed him back with genuine joy. Jung-bae even pulled him into a hug, laughing out of sheer relief. For the first time in years, something in In-ho’s chest loosened.

He felt at ease. He felt at home.

He didn’t miss the way you hesitated, how your hands twitched slightly as if itching to embrace him too but you held back. And that was fine. He knew you valued dignity, that you considered others’ comfort before your own. It was just another thing he had grown to admire about you.

Feeling lighter than he had in a long time, he made a lighthearted joke about how their group of six could actually count as seven if they included Jun-hee’s baby. It caught everyone off guard, laughter spilling from the group. Jung-bae, always quick to add on, cracked another joke, prompting Dae-ho to double over in laughter.

Yeah, it feels nice, In-ho thought.

For the first time in years, he let himself enjoy it.

All of you in the group survived the third round. But the aftermath revealed something far uglier. The mother and son duo had been separated during the round. And from what In-ho gathered after speaking with the mother, the son had willingly left her behind in the arena.

Ah, there it is, In-ho mused darkly. The hidden depravity of humanity.

The son had held his mother’s hand like a devoted child all this time, clinging to her as though she was his entire world. And yet, when the time came, he let her go without a second thought. No hesitation. No regret.

And still, when he returned to her afterward, she forgave him.

In-ho, Gi-hun, and you watched in silence. He could tell you had noticed it too. The way your expression wavered, the way your eyes followed the son with quiet realization. And Gi-hun, he frowned.

The teams merged and the next round came. They all survived. But one of player 120’s acquaintances didn’t make it.

The group had grown larger now. Player 333, 246 named Gyeong-seok, and 380 called Se-mi had all joined, forming a solid unit. They all stayed together for what would soon be the final round.

As the carousel spun with its haunting melody, Jung-bae turned to Gi-hun. “What do you think the number will be for the final round?”

Before Gi-hun could answer, In-ho spoke instead. “Two.”

The moment the word left his lips, he could feel the shift. The entire group turned their eyes toward him, questioning.

Jung-bae tilted his head. “Why?”

“There are 129 people left, and 50 rooms,” In-ho explained. “So there won’t be enough rooms for everyone. Only for 100 people. The rest will be eliminated.”

“If it’s two, then…” you paused, eyes flickering to your friends. Then, urgency laced your voice. “Quick. Pair up. Pair up.”

The others reacted instantly, moving to secure a partner. In-ho remained still, watching.

He had broken his own rule.

Fairness and equality were what he upheld in this place. The games were meant to be unbiased. But this? This was an advantage – an unfair one. He had told them the final round’s required number before it was revealed, giving them a chance to prepare while the others remained clueless.

And yet, he had done it anyway.

Because now, his loyalty to the rules had wavered. He had spent so long enforcing fairness, but now he had something more valuable than rules – something he wanted to protect.

Or rather, someone.

He could call it logic, tell himself it was strategy. But the truth was, it was you.

And for the first time in years, fairness no longer mattered to him as much as you did.

And though he wouldn't say it out loud, he had grown unexpectedly attached to the whole group.

Meanwhile, In-ho felt a gentle tug on his left sleeve. He didn’t need to look to know it was you. Even as you faced forward, focused on the rooms ahead, your fingers curled around the fabric of his jacket.

His gaze flickered down to your hand.

For a moment, he simply observed and felt the warmth of your grasp, the quiet way you sought him out without words. Then, with a slow movement, he reached over with his right hand, gently prying your fingers from his sleeve.

A flicker of confusion crossed your face, though you didn’t speak. He could feel it, the way you hesitated, wondering what he was doing.

Then, without a word, his left hand reached for yours. And instead of letting go, he intertwined his fingers with yours, clasping your hand in a firm, steady hold.

His grip wasn’t possessive, but protective. He didn’t need to say anything. He just held on. And that was enough.

Suddenly, the platform lurched to a stop, and the music cut off abruptly. Then, just as quickly, the blaring fast-paced tune resumed, flashing red and purple lights bathing the room in chaos. The announcer’s voice rang through the madness: “Two.”

Without hesitation, In-ho tightened his hold around your hand and pulled you forward, weaving through the frantic players. But before you could reach safety, something ripped you away from him.

Your hand slipped from his grasp.

In-ho barely had time to react before two men barreled into him, their shoulders slamming against his chest. The force sent him crashing to the ground. The impact jarred him, but his focus was singular.

You.

“Young-il!” your panicked scream cut through the chaos, and his blood ran cold.

His head snapped toward you just in time to see the stupid boys' ringleader's smug face as he yanked you back. The bastard had his arms locked around your waist, dragging you toward a different room. Your furious thrashing made it difficult, but the ringleader held firm.

Rage ignited in In-ho’s chest. His vision sharpened, his body tensed.

That fucker had made the worst mistake of his life.

But before he could get up from the floor, the ringleader's friends were on him, shoving him back down with force. They ganged up on him, pressing their weight against his shoulders, knocking him flat. They definitely underestimated him, seeing only an older man – one they thought would be easy to overpower.

The ringleader's friends then scrambled off him and bolted toward their leader. In-ho wasted no time. He pushed himself off the ground with force, his body surging forward the moment he regained his footing.

His sharp gaze locked onto them just as they reached the ringleader, who was struggling to drag you toward an unoccupied room. They grabbed at your arms and legs, forcing you through the doorway. In-ho's pulse pounded in his ears. With every ounce of speed he could muster, he sprinted toward them.

The ringleader's friends were about to leave to find another room. But before they could fully escape, In-ho appeared. He caught up to the nearest one and grabbed him by the hair and slammed his head against the wall just outside. A sickening crack thundered. The force of the impact sent the man crumpling to the ground, unmoving. 

In-ho barely spared him a glance.

His focus was already shifting. He stepped into the doorway, his gaze locking onto the second lackey. Without hesitation, he delivered a devastating punch to the man’s face. A sharp crunch followed as the impact shattered his nose. The lackey dropped instantly, groaning in pain as blood gushed between his fingers.

“Shit!” the ringleader hissed, tightening his grip around you like a shield.

In-ho’s eyes darkened as he took in the scene. Your arms trapped, your body pressed against the boy's unwillingly. He could see it in your posture, in the way your body tensed, the way your breath quickened. Fear. Frustration.

This fucker was holding you like a prize.

That was enough to make something snap inside him.

“Let her go,” In-ho commanded, his voice cold, his tone brooking no argument.

“Fuck no!” the ringleader spat, his tone laced with desperation. “If you want her alive, then go and find another room!”

In-ho didn’t move. He assessed. He calculated. The room was small, the timer ticking down in the background. One wrong move, and that boy might try to use you as leverage.

The ringleader's voice wavered as he shouted again, “So what will it be?!”

Before In-ho could act, you did.

Quick, decisive, brutal. Your right hand shot downward, seizing the boy's precious part in a vice grip. His agonized scream ripped through the air as his body curled inward. He released you instantly, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

You stumbled free, gasping, stepping away. But before the bastard could recover, before he could even think about retaliating, In-ho lunged.

His fist connected with the boy's jaw, sending him reeling back. In-ho didn’t let up. Another punch, this one to his ribs. A third to his temple. Each hit was calculated, controlled. No wasted movement. Just cold precision fueled by rage.

“Quick!” In-ho heard you shout. “Shove him out!”

In-ho didn’t listen. He had no intention of shoving the scum anywhere. Instead, he locked his arms around the man’s neck from behind, maneuvering him into a chokehold. As he crouched low, the boy's struggling body bent under his control, submission inevitable.

You froze, wide-eyed, watching him. Watching the way he moved without hesitation. Without mercy.

The timer ticked down, each second tightening the tension in the room. Through the chaos, In-ho caught your gaze from behind the ringleader's head. Your eyes met his, and in that moment, he knew you saw it – his quiet fury, the focused, unrelenting force behind his actions.

One second left.

With a sharp, calculated shift of his arms, a sickening crack echoed through the room. The bastard's head twisted unnaturally to the side.

The long, piercing beep signaled the end of the round.

The boy's lifeless body slumped to the floor. In-ho released his grip, letting his hands fall limply onto the dead man’s chest. His breath came heavy, his hair damp against his forehead, but his eyes remained locked on you. Unblinking. Unreadable.

The silence in the room stretched, suffocating.

You tore your gaze away first, unable to hold his stare. Your eyes dropped to the floor, your body trembling. He noticed every detail – the way your arms shook, the way your breath hitched. He wondered what exactly had unsettled you the most.

Was it because of him and what he did? The side of him you had just seen? Unfiltered, merciless, the part of himself he had long since accepted. Did the way he executed the ringleader shake you?

Did you finally realize? That you're seeing him for what he truly was?

And if you did, would you ever be able to see him any other way?

In-ho saw it. Your trembling form, the way you refused to meet his gaze. He exhaled slowly, standing from where he had crouched over the fucker’s lifeless body. He turned toward you, his shadow stretching across the floor.

He watched you, assessing. And finally, he spoke your name.

You flinched slightly at the sound but you still didn’t look up. He took a slow step forward, then another, stopping just in front of you. Crouching down, he brought himself to your level, close enough that you could feel his presence.

“Look at me.”

When you didn’t, his hand hovered for a moment before resting gently on your trembling arm.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he murmured. “But I wasn’t going to let him…”

He trailed off, his jaw tightening. He turned his head slightly as if forcing himself to shake off the thought of what had almost happened to you. Of what that bastard had tried to do.

Slowly, hesitantly, you lifted your gaze to meet his.

Your eyes, still clouded with emotion, searched his. But what did you see? The cold, ruthless man who had executed someone without hesitation? Or the man who had laughed with you whenever you made him feel a genuine human connection?

A shaky whimper escaped you, your voice barely holding steady. “You didn’t have to kill him. You could have just shoved him out of the room.”

In-ho held your gaze, his expression unreadable. Then, he nodded slightly as if acknowledging your words. He was not agreeing, not refuting. Without a word, he stepped closer. And before you could react, his arms encircled you, pulling you into a firm embrace.

His grip was unwavering, his warmth a stark contrast to the cold efficiency with which he had ended a life just moments ago.

He had killed to protect you.

In-ho rested his chin gently atop your head, feeling the way your face pressed against the crook of his neck. Your warmth against him, the quiet rise and fall of your breath, lulled him and his heartbeat.

“If I shoved him out,” he murmured, “he would’ve died anyway. The guards would have shot him. At least this way… it was on my terms. Not theirs.”

His words vibrated softly against your cheek, but he could feel your body tense in response. He exhaled slowly, lowering his voice even further.

“Let me protect you in this hell,” he continued. “I’m doing this because I care about you.”

And it was the truth. He didn’t say things like this lightly. He had spent years closing himself off, but here, now, you had become the one thing he didn’t want to lose. The one thing that he wanted to keep watch over.

He could tell his words hit you deeply. He could feel it in the way your breathing changed, in the way you hesitated. Your arms hung limply at your sides as if you were uncertain, overwhelmed by everything – fear, relief, the weight of what had just happened.

Sensing that hesitation, he loosened his hold, just slightly. His hand moved, fingers tilting your chin upward so your wide, startled eyes met his. Then, without a word, he leaned in, brushing his lips softly against yours. It was brief. Just two fleeting seconds of contact. But the moment he pulled back, your stunned expression rooted him in place.

“Sorry,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I was going to lose you. So now, I’m not going to waste any more time.”

Before you could find the words to respond, he moved again.

This time, he didn’t hold back. His arms pulled you in, his grip firm, his lips capturing yours with a desperate certainty. Again and again, his kisses deepened, each one more urgent than the last. His hand slid up, fingers threading through your hair, tilting your head just enough to give him more access.

In-ho felt the way your body tensed at first, the hesitation before your arms slowly wrapped around his back. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket, gripping onto him like he was your only tether to safety.

Even as he kissed you deeply, he felt you tense up. He could feel in the way your breath hitched, in the way your body pressed into his but your mind remained elsewhere. He knew what was creeping into your thoughts, the doubt gnawing at the edges of this moment.

You had witnessed it firsthand. The ruthlessness in his movements, the precision with which he had ended someone's life. No hesitation. No remorse. You must be thinking if this was how he had survived his 2015 game. Cold, calculating, unsympathetic.

Did you finally realize what he had always known? That there were parts of him that could never be understood, never be softened. He could sense that doubt clinging to you like a shadow.

And In-ho? He wasn’t sure whether to reassure you… or let you see the truth.

***

The square guard stepped forward and announced, “Congratulations to all of you for making it through the third game. Now, here are the results of the third game.”

After a series of announcements, the TV screen finally displayed the numbers. 100 players remaining. The accumulated prize money had reached 35.6 billion won. If distributed equally, each player would walk away with 356 million won.

In-ho didn’t need to glance at you to know you were stunned by the figure. He could already sense it in the way your breath hitched and in the subtle widening of your eyes. That amount was enough to change your life and to erase the burdens you carried.

Your group, along with the other players, gathered toward the back of the dormitory as the square guard finished his announcement. The voting counters were being set up now, the process feeling eerily familiar.

Standing amidst the crowd, lost in thought, you didn’t seem to notice when he spoke.

“I’m glad.”

His voice was steady, calm, but there was something deeper beneath it. When you turned to him, he let a small smile tug at his lips. “At this amount, you can pay all of your debts.”

The way your face lit up made something tighten in his chest.

“Yeah,” you breathed, a grin spreading across your face. “Now I want nothing more than to go back home. My little sister must be worried.”

His gaze lingered on you.

“What are you going to do with the remaining millions?” he asked, his curiosity sincere.

You looked away briefly but the smile on your lips remained. “I’d use it to give my family a fresh start. My parents have endured so much. They’ve sacrificed everything for us. I’m going to give it all to them.”

Turning back to him, your warm smile deepened. “They deserve it.”

In-ho held your gaze for a moment, studying the quiet certainty in your eyes. The weight of your words settled in him, something unspoken twisting in his chest.

A rare kind of person, he thought.

His small smile grew as he murmured, “It’s rare to see someone who thinks so selflessly, even in a place like this.”

And for the first time in a long time, he almost wished he could believe in goodness again.

That’s when you looked up at him, your voice soft, laced with hesitation. “Young-il, if we manage to get a majority of X votes and we get to leave… will we still keep in touch?”

In-ho felt something shift.

You weren’t just thinking about escaping. You were thinking about after. About something beyond these walls.

His lips curled into a subtle smile as he held your gaze, letting the silence stretch between you both. He could see the uncertainty in your eyes, the flicker of hope you tried to keep hidden.

“Of course,” he finally said, smiling slightly. “Once we win the majority vote, give me your phone number and address. I’ll contact you.”

The way your face lit up sent something unexpected coursing through him. It was warmth, unguarded and genuine, something he wasn’t used to receiving.

He was taken aback too. You had seen what he was capable of. The way he had ended a life. The way he had done it without hesitation, without flinching.

That should have terrified you. It should have made you run.

But instead, you smiled at him so trustingly. So openly.

***

In the end, the voting resulted in a tie. The manager announced that another vote would take place tomorrow, giving the players time to reconsider their decisions.

As the players dispersed, In-ho walked alongside you, heading back to the usual corner where your group gathered. He was lost in thought when your voice suddenly pulled him back.

“Why were you taking so long to vote X?” you asked, exasperation laced in your tone. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

A chuckle escaped him. He had expected you to be curious, but he wasn’t prepared for the dramatic follow-up.

“If you’d voted O, I would’ve screamed and died on the spot,” you added, frowning in exaggerated dismay. “That would’ve been my way out of this game.”

That made him laugh. A genuine laugh that he hadn’t let out in years.

There it was again. That feeling. You made him feel human.

You reminded him of something he had buried a long time ago – the warmth of companionship, the simple joy of lighthearted conversation. In a place filled with desperation and greed, you were the anomaly.

Glancing at you, he took in the small pout on your face and shook his head. Without thinking, his left hand lifted, fingers threading gently through your hair as he brushed the back of your head.

“Sorry,” In-ho said, the smile lingering on his lips. “I was just thinking about something else.”

“What were you thinking about?” you asked immediately.

As the two of you slowed your pace, nearing the familiar corner where your group usually gathered, his gaze shifted around the room. He wasn’t just glancing. He was observing. Taking in every surviving player, their body language, their unspoken intentions.

His smile faded slightly as he finally spoke. “I was wondering why so many people still insist on staying. They already have a share of 356 million. It’s enough to start over, right? I don’t know their reasons, but… it says a lot about this world.”

He could feel your silent stare, the way his words settled in your mind, forcing you to confront the same questions.

“It’s frustrating,” he murmured, his voice quieter. “If everyone got one billion, would they finally vote to leave? Or would they insist on staying here?”

He let the question hang in the air before bringing his gaze back to you, his expression solemn. “If everyone knew about Jun-hee and her pregnancy, would that change their minds? Would they vote X for her sake? Or would they judge her for being here?”

He saw the weight of his words settle onto your shoulders. Your face told him everything. Concern, uncertainty, a flicker of realization.

“This place exposes who you really are,” he said, his tone edged with quiet certainty. “People can’t hide forever when they’re pushed to their limits. Even those who think they’re good, moral people… they find out just how far they’re willing to go when it’s their life on the line.”

He had seen it before. Over and over again. In these games, morality was a fragile thing, easily shattered when desperation took hold.

Then, without much thought, his hand moved. The back of his fingers brushed lightly against your head, his touch barely there before his fingers wove softly through your hair.

It was an unconscious gesture, something he shouldn’t have allowed himself. But he did.

And when you turned your gaze to him, he was already watching you, a small smile playing at his lips.

“This place also shows who can hold onto kindness, even when everything around them turns to chaos,” he said.

The words lingered between you. He saw the way they resonated, the way warmth flickered in your eyes despite the shadows that threatened to consume everything. Then, you smiled back at him.

“That’s you, though.”

In-ho’s gaze lingered on you, his faint smile faltering before disappearing altogether. He stared, unmoving, as your words settled in.

Your smile remained genuine, unwavering like a candle burning steady against the wind.

“You’re kind, too,” you continued, voice steady. “You stay calm when everyone else is panicking, and you’re always the first to tell us to stay grounded. When player 333 was being bullied, you stepped in...”

You lifted your hands, a playful attempt to mimic his movements from that moment. “You were like a police officer in this place. Fair and protective.”

His chest tightened. He hadn’t expected that. He never told you this, but a long time ago, he had been exactly that – a police officer. He had devoted his youth to it, believing in the job, in the duty, in the justice it was meant to uphold. Until he tried to save his wife by borrowing money. And just like that, it had all been taken from him. Fired. Cast aside. The devastation of that moment had never truly left him.

So when you said that, it was like striking a match inside him. Something buried deep, something he had locked away for years, flared to life. He had spent so long convincing himself that his past was dead, that the man who once swore to protect and serve had been erased the day he was cast out. And yet, here you were, seeing him for something he hadn’t believed he could be anymore. Fair. Protective. Good.

The words cracked through his defenses like a fault line splitting open, and for the first time in years, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to put them back together.

His eyes remained locked onto you, searching, waiting for uncertainty or manipulation. An ulterior motive. But it never came. The silence between you stretched. You tilted your head slightly, puzzled by his lack of response, but your expression never wavered.

Finally, he exhaled.

A small, almost reluctant smile returned to his lips. His gaze flickered between your left and right eye, then briefly to your lips before dropping to the floor. A quiet chuckle escaped him as he lifted a hand, pressing it lightly against your back. A simple gesture, guiding you forward.

“You’re too kind for this world, really,” he murmured, mostly to himself.

In-ho believed that kindness was a weakness in this world. That it was something people pretended to have until survival demanded otherwise. But you… somehow, you kept proving him wrong. You saw something in him that he had long buried, something he wasn’t sure he even wanted to believe in again. And yet, with every word you spoke, every genuine smile you gave, you chipped away at the armor and mask he had built around himself. He wasn’t sure if that terrified him or if, for the first time in a long while, it made him feel something close to hope.

***

[Back to present…]

“It appears a player is giving birth.”

Your breath caught. Your fingers froze over the console. Your eyes widened.

Jun-hee is giving birth.

A sharp, instinctual panic shot through you, locking your body in place as the reality of the words hit. Out of all the possible situations, this was something you hadn’t prepared for.

Your hands trembled as you hastily shifted your attention back to the live feed. The X zone was in a state of a growing chaos, players moving frantically. Your heart pounded as you scanned for Jun-hee, hoping that this was some kind of misunderstanding.

But it wasn’t.

Amidst the disorder, you spotted her. Jun-hee was lying on one of the bunk beds, her body curled inward, arms cradling her swollen belly protectively. Her face was twisted in agony, beads of sweat glistening on her forehead. The players surrounding her were panicked. Beneath her, a darkened wet patch stained the mattress. Her water had broken.

Dread coiled in your stomach. This wasn’t just dangerous. It was life-threatening. She needed medical attention. Proper care. But there were no doctors here, no sterile rooms or trained professionals. Just frightened, helpless players who had no idea what to do. But there is Yong-sik's mother.

But would the guards step in? Would they allow an emergency intervention? Or would they simply force Jun-hee to get up and continue with the game?

Then, as if sensing your internal turmoil, he spoke in his deep, distorted voice. “Manager 007 and 009.”

Your breath hitched. Slowly, you turned your head, meeting the dark gaze of the Front Man’s mask staring back at you.

“Handle this.”

His words were simple. Clear. And they sent a wave of cold understanding through you. In-ho was giving you permission to intervene. Whatever you wanted to do, he gave you a green light.

Yet, he assigned another manager to accompany you. Was this his way of ensuring you followed 009’s lead? A silent instruction to observe rather than act? Or to be careful? You couldn’t be sure, but questioning it wouldn’t change the fact that you had a chance to intervene.

You nodded stiffly and pushed yourself up from the seat, forcing steady steps away from the monitor. Manager 009 followed suit. Without a word, the two of you made your way to the door.

As you rushed alongside 009 toward the dormitory, your mind raced. How would you approach this without drawing too much attention? In-ho had warned you not to act rashly. He couldn’t always cover for you. And he was right. If you did something impulsive, it wouldn’t just be you facing the consequences. Your friends would suffer too. You had to be careful.

When you arrived, you immediately noticed the pink guards stationed at the entrance. Most were soldiers, standing rigidly, while a single manager, presumably in charge of player supervision, stood in the center. Their posture was indifferent as if they were merely overseeing another routine occurrence.

Your eyes darted toward the X zone. A frantic cluster of players surrounded a single bed. Your heart pounded harder. Even from where you stood, you could make out Gi-hun and the others standing protectively around the bed, their faces grim with worry.

“Everyone, please make space!” Yong-sik’s mother’s voice rang out. Though her tone was firm, there was an undeniable panic beneath it. “Give her space!”

Dae-ho, Jung-bae, Hyun-ju, Yong-sik, and Gi-hun worked to push back the other players, creating a small perimeter around Jun-hee’s bed. Meanwhile, Myung-gi knelt beside her, gripping her hand tightly, his expression stricken with worry and helplessness.

Your gaze shifted toward the O players, who remained seated in their designated area, watching the commotion with detached amusement. None of them moved to help. It was clear they didn’t see this as their problem.

Manager 009 strode forward toward the supervising manager, and you followed closely behind. Despite your measured pace, your eyes kept darting towards your friends. Every part of you wanted to run to Jun-hee’s side, to help in any way you could. But you had to keep your composure. If you slipped up now, it wouldn’t just be you who paid the price.

009 stopped before the supervising manager and addressed them. “Manager 003, what’s the situation?”

Manager 003 barely glanced at the chaos unfolding behind them as they responded blandly as if discussing the weather, “Breakfast distribution will begin shortly. The situation does not affect the schedule.”

You felt something in your chest tighten. A player was in labor, and they still intended to carry on as if nothing was happening?

But you bit your tongue. Now wasn’t the time to react. Now was the time to think carefully about your next move.

Circle guards – known as workers – filed into the dormitory, swiftly setting up two tables at the front of the center. The sight made your stomach sink. That meant players would have to queue in two lines to get their breakfast as if nothing extraordinary was happening. It’s as if Jun-hee wasn’t in labor right now.

Then, manager 003’s voice rang out in the dormitory, monotonous and devoid of emotion. “Players, queue up for your breakfast before the next game begins.”

The players shifted their attention onto him. A stunned silence spread through the dormitory. Some exchanged hesitant glances while others openly gawked at the manager in shock. The sheer detachment in the announcement was like a slap to the face.

Yong-sik’s mother was the first to react. She bolted from Jun-hee’s side and rushed to the center, placing herself in front of the guards. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her face contorted with disbelief and horror.

“Are you serious?” she demanded, her voice shaking. “Are you really going to continue with the game right now? Someone is in labor! She needs medical attention, she needs rest! Could you at least delay the game for her?!”

Manager 003 remained still, unaffected by the raw emotion in her voice. He simply stated, “The next game will begin as usual.”

Silence. Then, anger flared in the mother’s eyes. Her lips trembled, fists clenched by her sides as her fury erupted.

“How could you?” she screamed. “Are you even human?! She cannot play the games right after giving birth! She’s in pain! She’s suffering!”

Yong-sik rushed to his mother’s side, attempting to calm her down, when a voice boomed across the dormitory.

“And who are you to demand that?!”

All eyes snapped to player 100, who had shot up from his seat and was now striding toward the center of the room. His finger jabbed aggressively at the mother as he sneered. “Who do you think you are, demanding special treatment? You think she deserves more time than the rest of us? That’s unfair! We’re all fighting for our lives here, not waiting around for some sob story to play out!”

He scoffed, spreading his arms out. “What next? Should we all get pillows and blankets for her? Maybe some tea and biscuits? Grow up! This is a competition! If she’s too weak to continue, then tough luck!”

The mother’s expression twisted in fury. “How can you say that? She’s having a baby! She could die!”

Player 100 let out a mocking laugh. “So what? People die every day here! And if she’s not strong enough, then that’s her problem, not ours!”

The argument grew heated as more players joined in. Player 226 stepped forward, backing player 100. “He’s right! Why should we wait around just because she decided to bring a kid into this mess? That’s not our problem. The game goes on.”

Dae-ho stepped in. “What the hell is wrong with you people? She’s a human being! A baby is about to be born, and all you care about is the game?”

Jung-bae added, his voice carrying through the dormitory, “This isn’t about fairness anymore. It’s about decency. Are you seriously suggesting we just let her suffer without any help?”

Player 100 rolled his eyes. “Decency? In this place? You’re more naive than I thought.”

Just then, Myung-gi rose to his feet from Jun-hee’s side, his face dark with fury. He stormed toward player 100, standing toe-to-toe with him. “You keep running your mouth like that, and I’ll shut it for you.”

Before player 100 could respond, a familiar chuckle rang through the room. Player 124 – the late Thanos’ friend – stepped forward, his grin wide and unsettling. His eyes gleamed with amusement as he swayed slightly as if high on something.

“Now, now,” he drawled, his voice laced with mockery. “Why so worked up for a girl you just met, MG Coin?”

He tilted his head exaggeratedly, eyes narrowing. “Could it be that you’re not just her boyfriend? Could it be… you’re the father of the baby?”

Silence fell upon the dormitory like a heavy weight. Myung-gi stiffened, his jaw clenching. All eyes locked onto him, even the mother looked at him with wide, stunned eyes. You stood frozen, unable to process the sudden turn of events.

Player 124 let out a high-pitched cackle. “Oh, man, this is rich! I was just guessing, but that face says it all! Look at him! Speechless! Guilty as charged!”

He shook his head in exaggerated disbelief, then sneered, “So, what’s the plan, MG Coin? You going to win the games and take care of your baby? Or will you ask your baby to invest in bitcoin too?”

The words dripped with venom, laced with a cruel taunt meant to push Myung-gi over the edge. And from the look in Myung-gi’s eyes, it was working.

Myung-gi hissed at him through gritted teeth, “Shut your mouth, you punk!”

Player 124 smirked, tilting his head mockingly. “Or what?”

Before Myung-gi could respond, a piercing cry cut through the tension. Jun-hee’s whimpers turned into full sobs, her body writhing on the mattress. Her hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into the sheets. Tears streamed down her face as she gasped for breath.

The mother snapped out of her anger and rushed back to Jun-hee’s side, her hands immediately moving to soothe her.

“Shh, shh, I’m here, sweetheart. Just breathe. Just like that,” she murmured, brushing damp strands of hair from Jun-hee’s forehead.

Myung-gi, who had been frozen in place just moments before, followed suit. He ran and dropped to his knees beside the bed, gripping Jun-hee’s trembling hand tightly in both of his. His face was stricken with worry, but he did not hesitate to hold her through the pain, whispering quiet reassurances.

The tension that had crackled moments ago slowly fizzled as most of the X players shifted their focus back to Jun-hee. The argument, the accusations – all of it faded to the background.

Manager 003, unaffected by the emotional shift, repeated his command in the same robotic tone, “Players, queue up for your breakfast before the next game begins.”

A few moments passed in eerie silence before some of the O players began moving, forming two orderly lines in front of the tables that had been set up. They grabbed their boiled eggs and cartons of milk, exchanging smug glances amongst themselves as they returned to their beds. Their indifference to Jun-hee’s struggle was infuriating, but unsurprising.

The X players, however, hesitated. Many lingered by Jun-hee’s side, reluctant to leave her while she was in such distress. Some, like Gi-hun, Jung-bae, and Dae-ho, stood still, glaring at the guards as if silently pleading for them to allow Jun-hee some reprieve. But even as hesitation thickened the air, the reality of hunger eventually overpowered their hesitation. Some X players reluctantly stepped forward, collecting their meager meals.

Despite their own needs, a few of them didn’t take a single bite of their breakfast. Instead, one by one, they quietly placed their eggs and milk beside Jun-hee’s makeshift bed. It was a small, silent act of solidarity.

From where you stood, your eyes followed Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Dae-ho, Hyun-ju, and Yong-sik as they hurriedly grabbed extra mattresses, setting them up around Jun-hee’s bed. They built a makeshift privacy barrier, shielding her from any prying eyes. Inside that small fort, only Jun-hee, the mother, and Myung-gi remained.

You stood at a distance, hidden behind your mask, watching the scene unfold. You longed to be there. To kneel beside Jun-hee, to hold her hand, to help the mother in any way you could. But you weren’t just another player anymore. You were disguised as a manager, an enforcer of the system that was forcing her to give birth in these cruel conditions.

A lump formed in your throat as you clenched your fists. What could you possibly do now?

The control room was surely watching. The masked officer. The Front Man. All of them. Any wrong move could put you – and worse, your friends – at risk.

And yet, the sight of Jun-hee’s suffering made your chest ache with helplessness.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to remain still. You had to be careful. You had to be smart. But deep down, you knew one thing for certain:

You would help her in any way possible.

You turned to manager 003 and manager 009, carefully measuring your words. “To ensure the game proceeds smoothly without unnecessary interruptions, I will gather a kit and the necessary medical equipment for player 222. This way, the game can proceed without delay.”

Both managers turned to face you. A tense silence hung in the air between the three of you as the other players minded their own business. Manager 003’s mask tilted slightly, an indication that they were processing your words before responding.

“That is unnecessary,” manager 003 said finally, their voice void of any emotion.

You kept your posture composed. “This matter must be handled efficiently.”

Manager 009 shifted slightly. “Our assistance is unnecessary. Players who cannot continue will be eliminated. That is the way the game works.”

Manager 003 added, “Our role is to ensure the game runs as instructed, not to interfere with the process.”

You straightened your shoulders. “If she doesn’t get at least some medical attention, she may not be able to participate in the next game at all. Then what? Another revolt will occur by the Xs? Do we simply let the situation fester until it becomes a much bigger issue? The longer we delay, the more likely it is that players will begin resisting.”

Another pause. Manager 009 exhaled audibly, almost as if irritated by the conversation. “We will handle it if that happens.”

You pressed on. “The VIPs are expecting an entertaining experience, are they not?”

You saw the subtle shift in manager 003’s posture. “They will not want unnecessary delays. The longer this goes unresolved, the longer they have to wait for the next game. And we all know they do not like to wait.”

The air between you three grew heavier. You knew you had struck the right nerve. Anything concerning the VIPs was taken seriously. Manager 003 turned slightly, as if reconsidering.

“I am simply proposing an efficient way to ensure that everything proceeds as planned,” you let the words settle before adding, “After all, we wouldn’t want them to grow impatient.”

Another long silence. Finally, manager 003 gave a slow nod. “Fine.”

Without waiting for further objections, you turned swiftly and began making your way out of the dormitory.

You returned to the dormitory carrying clean towels, a scissor, medical gloves, a few bottles of water, and some antiseptic wipes. These were the best supplies you could gather under the circumstances. You strode toward the X zone, heading straight for Jun-hee’s bed where the makeshift fort had been built to provide her with privacy.

Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Dae-ho, Hyun-ju, and Yong-sik immediately rose to their feet as you approached. Their eyes flickered with alarm, but that concern quickly shifted to the bundle of supplies in your arms. Suspicion lingered in their gazes as they took in the sight of the materials.

You stopped in front of Gi-hun and met his cautious stare through the black mesh of your manager’s mask. Your voice, distorted by the built-in modifier, came out. “Use these. For the delivery. Afterward, give them back to any guards.”

Gi-hun hesitated, his expression unreadable. But his eyes were locked on your mask. Meanwhile, Dae-ho swallowed hard, visibly torn between skepticism and the urgent need to help Jun-hee. Hyun-ju took a step forward, her gaze locked onto you as she assessed the situation.

Jung-bae finally broke the silence. “Why are you helping us?”

You remained silent, simply extending the supplies toward him. You made it clear that they were meant for Jun-hee without the need for further explanation.

For a moment, no one moved. Then, the mother – who had remained by Jun-hee’s side, tending to her as best as she could – peeked out from the fort. Her face was lined with exhaustion and concern, but when she saw the items in your hands, relief flickered across her features.

“Give them here,” she said urgently. “Now. Jun-hee is already two fingers wide.”

Gi-hun finally reached out and took the supplies from you. His fingers curled tightly around the bundle, and his expression softened just a fraction. He stared at you for a moment as if appreciative, though he still seemed wary towards you.

Without another word, the group turned back toward Jun-hee, who let out a strained cry from behind the barricade of mattresses. The mother immediately got to work and the others hurried to assist them as best as they could.

You stepped back, watching as they disappeared into the fort. You wanted to do more, to be there and ensure that Jun-hee was okay. But you had done what you could – at least for now. All you could do was wait and hope that the birth would be as smooth as possible given the dire circumstances.

An hour had passed, the air in the dormitory thick with tension. Jun-hee’s cries of pain filled the space, muffled by the makeshift fort Gi-hun and others had built around her. Every now and then, a sharp intake of breath, a whispered encouragement, or the mother’s firm instructions broke through the nervous silence. The players, particularly the Xs, had kept their distance, watching with apprehension.

Then, the moment everyone had dreaded arrived.

Manager 003’s distorted voice rang through the dormitory. “Players, queue up for the next game.”

The command hung in the air like a death sentence. Heads snapped toward the guards standing by the main doors. The workers had already begun dismantling the tables and clearing away the remnants of breakfast. Your friends stiffened in their places, their expressions a mix of disbelief and outrage.

Yong-sik’s mother was the first to react. She stood from Jun-hee’s side, stepping towards the center and pleaded with a trembling voice, “Please, she’s in the middle of labor! First pregnancies take hours. Can you give her more time? She can’t even stand, let alone play!”

Manager 003, completely unphased, simply repeated, “Players, queue up for the next game.”

Gi-hun and the rest of his friends bristled, gaping at the manager in disbelief. The mother clenched her fists, her lips trembling in fury. “Are you even human? How can you stand there and act like this isn’t happening? This girl is giving birth! You can’t even find it in yourselves to have a shred of decency?”

The guards did not react. They stood still. It didn’t matter how much reasoning or pleading was thrown their way. The game had to continue, no exceptions.

You stood beside manager 009 and 003, watching everything unfold, but inside, your mind was racing. There had to be a way to delay the game longer. More time, just a little more time.

You turned your gaze upward, scanning the walls until you found what you were looking for – a CCTV camera mounted in the far corner of the dormitory.

You exhaled sharply. If anyone could halt this, it was In-ho.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you kept your eyes locked on the camera, hoping – praying – that the Front Man was watching. That he would see the reality of the situation. That he would step in.

That he would grant Jun-hee mercy.

Manager 003 repeated his command in the same flat tone. “Players, queue up for the next game.”

The O players obeyed this time, moving into their lines without hesitation. Meanwhile, the X players hesitated. They glanced between Jun-hee and the guards, unsure whether to follow orders or stand their ground.

The mother rushed back to Jun-hee upon hearing her frightened cries. Gi-hun stood tensely nearby, scanning the room. His sharp gaze moved from guard to guard as if searching for a way out of this situation.

Then, manager 003’s voice echoed again. “Rule number two of the player consent form: A player who refuses to play will be eliminated.”

A wave of unease spread through the X players. Their hesitation turned to fear. Some exchanged anxious glances before stepping forward to join the queue. Slowly, more and more of them followed, unwilling to test the rule.

Twenty minutes crawled by. The lines grew, but a small group remained in place. Jun-hee, lying on the bed in the fort of mattresses, was surrounded by the mother, Yong-sik, Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Dae-ho, Myung-gi, Hyun-ju, and Se-mi. None of them moved to join the queue.

You watched in realization. This wasn’t just hesitation. They were refusing. They were resisting.

From the line, player 100 sneered. His voice rang through the dormitory as he yelled at the guards, “Hey! That’s against the rules! What are you waiting for? Shoot them!”

Murmurs spread through the players. Some shifted uncomfortably, others nodded in agreement, eager to see the rules enforced.

The guards remained still, waiting for orders. Your pulse quickened as you glanced at the CCTV in the corner. The Front Man was watching. Would he allow this? Would he show mercy for Jun-hee?

A heavy silence filled the dormitory until manager 003’s distorted voice rang out again. “All players must queue up immediately. Failure to comply will violate the second rule of the player consent form. Any refusal to participate will result in elimination.”

Despite the warning, Gi-hun and the others refused to move from Jun-hee's bedside. The mother stood outside the makeshift fort, staring at manager 003 with desperation and disbelief. The tension in the air was unbearable. Players who had already lined up glanced over – some with pity, others with fear, and a few with complete indifference, while the rest held their breath, waiting for what would happen next.

Your pulse quickened. This wasn’t just defiance; it was a desperate plea for basic humanity in a place devoid of it. You clenched your fists, struggling to steady your breathing behind your mask. Was this really how it would end? Would they execute them right here and now?

And what could you do without exposing yourself? Damn it, you needed 011 now more than ever.

A full minute passed, yet Gi-hun’s group remained unmoving. Manager 003 didn’t hesitate. “As per the rules, refusal to participate in the game will result in immediate elimination.”

They turned to the triangle guards. Five soldiers stepped forward, MP5s in hand. Their boots thudded against the floor as they marched toward Jun-hee’s bed.

Your heart pounded. You saw it in Gi-hun’s face – the clenched jaw, the tensed muscles – ready to fight. The others mirrored his stance. Dae-ho was already trembling very obviously, but he still positioned himself in front of the fort. Jung-bae stood firm beside Gi-hun, and Hyun-ju moved to stand in front of the mother and Yong-sik, also prepared to fight back. Myung-gi pressed his back against the fort, watching the approaching guards with a glower. Se-mi, meanwhile, remained motionless with her hands tucked into her jacket pockets, her stance unreadable as she stood beside Myung-gi.

You couldn't just stand by. They were about to be executed for doing what was right – for protecting someone in the most vulnerable moment of her life. A searing anger clawed at your chest, hotter than fear, stronger than reason. If it meant standing beside them, if it meant dying alongside them for something pure in this hellish place, then so be it. You refused to let their kindness be repaid with bullets. Not while you still drew breath.

Determined, you stepped forward, falling into stride behind the triangle guards. Your boots echoed against the cold floor. Then, before the soldiers could reach the fort, your radio crackled to life. Not just yours – manager 003, 009, and the soldiers' radios came alive as well.

“All guards, stand down.”

The voice was deep, firm, and unmistakable. The Front Man.

The room froze. The guards halted mid-step, their weapons still raised but unmoving. Your breath caught as you stopped on the spot. You stared at your radio in disbelief. This was it. The intervention you had been praying for.

The silence stretched, thick with tension. You heard a shuffle of fabric behind you and looked over. It was manager 003. They hesitated for a brief moment before lifting their radio to their mouth, likely to confirm the Front Man’s command.

Before they could utter a word, the Front Man’s voice rang again but this time through the managers' radios only. “The game will be delayed until the baby is delivered.”

Silence followed.

The triangle guards in the X zone turned and faced manager 003, waiting for further instructions. With a slow, almost mechanical motion, manager 003 lowered their radio, then addressed the players in an even tone. “All players, the next game will begin after the child is delivered. Please wait until then.”

The collective sigh of relief from the X players was audible. The mother clasped her hands together, murmuring words of gratitude. Myung-gi visibly relaxed, his hands no longer clenched into fists, and Gi-hun, though still tense, exhaled heavily, his shoulders sagging slightly. He then stared at the CCTV, probably feeling too astonished that the management allowed this. Jung-bae and Dae-ho exchanged subtle glances, their hands trembling just a little less than before.

But the relief was short-lived.

A loud, infuriated scoff echoed across the room.

“This is bullshit!” player 100’s voice cut through the brief moment of peace like a blade. “Why is it delayed?! What makes her so damn special?! Why does she get to hold up the entire game for herself?!”

Murmurs rippled through the O players and you could see a few of them nodding in agreement. Player 226 stepped forward, a sneer tugging at his lips. “Yeah. The hell’s with this special treatment! If she can’t play, then she should be eliminated like anyone else who refuses.”

Player 100 jabbed a finger toward the X zone, his fury directed at Jun-hee’s fort. “This is favoritism! The second rule is clear! Any player who refuses to play is eliminated! So what, we’re just throwing out the rules now? What’s next, giving out comfy beds and hot meals for anyone who whines enough?!”

Your hands clenched into fists at your sides. You wanted nothing more than to shut him up but you had to maintain your role. You turned your gaze to manager 003, who merely stood in place, their face unreadable behind their mask.

“I said it before, and I’ll say it again,” player 100 continued, his voice rising. “You guards always say the rules are absolute, so why the sudden change? Why does she get special treatment?”

Player 124, the late Thanos’ friend, chuckled darkly, shaking his head as he muttered, “Man, I’d kill to have that kind of privilege.”

Jung-bae had had enough.

“She’s literally giving birth, you sick fuck!” he snapped. “What do you want her to do? Push the baby out and run straight into the next game?!”

Player 226 scoffed. “Hey. Rules are rules.”

Dae-ho, shaking in anger, finally stepped up. “You keep running your mouth like you know everything, but have you ever even seen someone in labor?! It takes more than ten hours!”

“You think that matters?!” player 100 fired back. “The moment she signed that consent form, she knew what she was getting into!”

Manager 003 suddenly spoke up. “Enough.”

Their tone was firm, commanding. “The order is absolute. The next game will begin once the baby is delivered. Please wait until then. Any further objections will be considered an act of defiance against the game’s authority.”

The room fell into silence once more. Player 100 bit his tongue, clearly seething, but he didn’t argue further. Instead, he stomped back to his place in the queue, muttering curses under his breath. The other O players exchanged glances but followed his lead, keeping their thoughts to themselves.

You kept your head high, ensuring your mask remained as impassive as ever. But inside, your chest burned with fury. The audacity of these players, acting as though Jun-hee’s suffering was an inconvenience to their greed. It made you sick.

Jun-hee’s cries suddenly pierced the silence again, bringing everyone’s attention back to her. The tension in the air remained thick, but the focus had shifted. The mother and Myung-gi rushed back into the fort, while Gi-hun and the rest of the O players reluctantly settled down, their frustration simmering beneath the surface.

The game was delayed, for now. It may be temporary, but it was very much needed for Jun-hee. You glanced up at the CCTV. Beneath your mask, your eyes locked onto it, hoping to convey something unspoken to the Front Man – to In-ho.

Gratitude. A silent thank you.

He had told you he upheld fairness and equality in this place. Yet, for Jun-hee, he had bent his own rules. With the VIPs watching, that was no small act. Maybe he felt conflicted about it, maybe he was already calculating the consequences. But no matter his reasons, he had done this. He had given Jun-hee a chance.

And for that, you were grateful. Because it meant that deep inside him, he was barely any different to Oh Young-il. He still have a heart.

NEXT : Chapter 20.1

PREV : Chapter 18.1

Story Masterlist

Please feel free to leave comments and feedback about my story, the characters, the "you", and practically anything! I love reading your comments, especially long ones! It motivates me a lot! What do you think about In-ho's very long, long P.O.V? I took a lot of care writing those parts because they finally revealed bits of why he was attracted to you. So what's your feedback about it? He cared but he was still very skeptical about your kindness and morality and how far you would go. Well, he will find out soon enough. You all know what scene I'm referring to, right? Then, Jun-hee's labor scene. What do you think about all of the characters who were involved in that scene? Did I write them right? Are they OOC? Does it feel realistic? Nam-gyu and Myung-gi are arguing again in that scene. And what do you think about In-ho suddenly issuing an order to delay the game? Why did he do that? Was it because of you? Or was it because of something else? I really want to know your reaction on this! Anyway, thank you very much for giving my story a chance. I love reading and re-reading all of your comments!

Anyway, plagiarism is incredibly frustrating, especially after I had countless all-nighters spent writing and refining ideas. So it’s disheartening when readers told me that they see someone lift entire scripts/dialogues that I wrote (and not even in the Squid Game series) and romantic concepts from my story into theirs. If my work inspires you, the least you can do is give proper credit. That’s all it takes to keep things fair. Respect me as a writer, and respect the readers who deserve diverse styles and fresh perspectives, especially in Hwang In-ho fanfics. Readers, if you see any stories that do this, please alert me and leave a comment for them.

Leave a comment on the masterlist post to be added to the taglist.

[deadratdonoteat]

The crew is on a mission to get information about this warlock. Someone needs to go undercover, in disguise, and get intel. That someone was chosen to be you. Needing to wear an outfit that wasn’t entirely your style

Tags- mostly fluff :D

W.C= 1.6k

Luffy-

-Doesn’t really react

-Not like he isn't affected but he doesn’t see that big of a difference, You're still you just wearing something different, Why would he react differently?

-He did like that color on you

“Well, what do you think,” you asked while doing a twirl for the captain. Luffy put a finger to his chin, as if in deep thought. His eyes scanned your body. Your face felt a little hot with his eyes on you. Then when he met your eyes he grimaced. You had let Nami do your hair and makeup, which she did an excellent job. Judging off the face he made at your face told you that he didn’t like it. Your heart sank. You knew you shouldn’t care what others thought but you at least wanted your captain to like you.

“What's with that stuff on your face?” He asked bluntly. You could hear Nami yell insults at him. That seemed to confuse him more. His brows raised at your disheartened expression.

“I like your face much better without that stuff,” He said without care. As if what he said was no big deal. What he said was no big deal to everyone, but not you. He just confessed to liking your face.

-Even though he didn’t express much change to your outfit his body language definitely changed

-Luring eyes were on you as you walked through the town

-That seemed to bother Luffy, his arm rested on you waist

-Some poor drunk guy made a move on you, he didn’t get a chance, a fist was smashed into his face instantly

The drunk man withered on the floor, cradling his bloody nose. Luffy’s arm returned to his side. This other arm never left your waist, if anything the grip tightened.

“Luffy, You didn’t need to do that,” you voice your concern for the stranger. Luffy pushed you to his chest. Stepping around the passed out drunk.

“He was going to touch you, only I'm allowed to do that,” He said so proudly. Your face heated up. Today was so strange your captain was confessing all these things to you. He stopped walking and slightly pushed you away to see your face.

“Right?” he asked with such puppy eyes. Your heart skipped a beat. He was basically begging for you to tell him. Tell him that he’s the only one allowed to touch you. Not that you were complaining.

“Of course, Luffy,” You said, looking away shyly. You could basically feel his beaming smile. He grabbed your hand and continued walking.

-All in all he won't express his interest but he’ll be a bit more protective over you. You just look too good for him to not get greedy.

Zoro-

-His eyes go wide, immediately scanning your body

-His face visibly turned a slight red

-Clears his throat and acts like he doesn’t care at all

“Well, what do you think,” you asked while doing a twirl for the swordsman. His lips formed a thin line. His eyes looked everywhere but you, cheeks pink.

“You look fine, let's just go,” He said hurriedly. Anyone else would have assumed he didn’t care or like your outfit but you knew. You knew that he liked your deep green dress. You were fine with him not telling you. While everyone else was getting dressed in dark clothes, you and Zoro waited. The two of you are leaning on the ship's railing. Your hands dangerously close. Deciding to be brave, your hand covered his. His body tensed. As the palm of your hand covered the back of his hand, you intertwined fingers. He looked at your hands then met your gaze.

“W-what?” He mentally cursed at himself for stuttering. You smiled sweetly at the swordsman. His head immediately looked back to the crew. You weren’t used to seeing him so nervous and flustered, you were milking it. You squeezed his hand, making him turn to you again.

“You look good, Zoro,” You confessed with cheeks growing hotter. His eyes widened a little. He was just wearing all black. Yet he still looked so handsome.

“You too,” He mumbled, looking at your touching hands. His fingers caressing yours.

-That was the closes you were going to get to him complimenting you

-Once the crew was dressed the mission started

-Standing outside of the bar you were going into alone, you froze

-You were going into a bar alone, wearing something a bit revealing, You were nervous

-Zoro seemed to notice your hesitancy

“You ready?” the green haired man asked. The rest of the crew was in position to spy on the warlock. You just needed to ask him some questions and hope that he’ll comply.

“Just a bit nervous, what if it doesn’t go according to plan?” You questioned. Looking up at the swordsman. Your round doe eyes affecting him more than he’d ever admit. It was getting closer to the time you needed to enter the bar. Zoro leaned down, his mouth right next to your ear. You could feel his hot breath.

“I’d never let anything happen to you,” he whispered. His deep voice sent chills down your spine. Heat covered your body, the chilly night air no longer bothering you. You nodded at him.

While questioning the warlock your mind was elsewhere. Slightly hoping something would happen so then Zoro would come save you.

-All in all he’ll try and act tough but his eyes linger on you for as long as possible. You were never out of his sight.

Sanji-

-Sanji is floored

-His eyes are hearts, basically drooling like a dog

-His jaw hit the floor (You could have sworn you saw him readjust his pants)

“Well, what do you think,” you asked while the cook twirled you around with his hand in yours. His hands rest on your waist. He leans back to get a good, long, look at you. His eyes staying in some places longer than others.

“You look amazing, as always my dear,” Sanji’s tone was drawing in sweetness. He likes this outfit a lot more than you thought. He was biting his bottom lip while he scanned you again.

“Absolutely amazing..” he somewhat mumbled to himself. Your face was growing hotter with his eyes raking your body. The dress was a bit revealing with a leg slit and your cleavage being showcased. Actually you should’ve guessed he’d like it. You looked into his eyes, which were already staring at you. His smile softened and his eyes closed, then he started moving…He started to lean in for a kiss!! You laughed at his forwardness, covering his mouth with a hand.

“Darrrlinggg,” his voice was muffled due to your hand. His hand reached for yours, pulling it from his mouth to intertwine your fingers. His other hand went to the small of your back and pushed you to him. Your chests becoming flushed together.

“Soon?” he asked. You giggled, wrapping your free arm around his neck.

“Soon,” You replied with a smug smile. His face reddening from your answer.

-He does not leave your side

-Glaring at anyone who dares to look at you for too long

-He was very touchy (not that you minded)

-Always kissing your hand or an arm around you

-Your word “Soon” echoed through his mind all day

-Once everyone was in position and the warlock was sitting at the bar it was time to strike

-You sat at the bar next to the man

“Would you like something to drink, ma'am?” the bartender asks, his voice was so soothing. Looking up to see the bartender, you were met with Sanji. He was dressed in a suit and vest, he looked so good. As you scanned his body, you completely forgot about the mission. The urge to flirt with this handsome bartender was eating at you. Clearing your throat, turning to the Warlock. His eyes glanced at you from the side.

“I was hoping someone would offer me a drink..” You said while leaning on the counter, showing off your revealing chest. The warlock smirked. After smooth talking to get a free drink, the mission was set to start. Sanji was forced to watch while making drinks or cleaning glasses. He watches as his beautiful darlin flirted with this random man. Sanji broke a few glasses from cleaning too hard. His teeth gritted everytime the Warlock would order another round for you two.

Once you got all the information out if the drunk warlock you were safe to leave. When you tried to, the now handsy warlock grabbed your wrist. Which didn't last long when someone gave the man a swift kick to the stomach.

“I quit,” Sanji shouted as he grabbed your hand and left the bar. A few people from the warlocks crew ran after you both. Sanji quickly pulled you into an alleyway. He pinned you against the wall.

“I hated this mission, we're never doing this again..” Sanji whisper shouted. You just smiled at the blonde. Putting your arms around his neck and pulling him in closer. His eyes darted to your lips, his face turning pink.

“You look good in this suit,” you said in such a sweet tone. Sanji's body visible shuttered. He leaned closer.

“What are you doing to me?” His voice was low, breath on your neck. You giggled at the ticklish air hitting your neck. His eyes dropped to your lips again. Who were you to deny this handsome cook. You finally leaned in to meet his lips. Sanji sighed. He had been waiting for this.

-All in all, Sanji is floored by how stunning you look. He’s a drooling mess around you

[fancyfeathers]

Okay, we touched Bruce's darling, Dick's darling and Jason's. We still have Tim and Damian left (plus Duke, Cass, Steph, Barbara and Kane, etc if you want to add more people)

Imagine that Tim's darling is actually pretty similar to him. She's a genius, but unlike him who has all the resources and possibilities at this disposal to train his intelligence and shine, his darling is hidden in the darkness of her district, where her only focus is survival...and something else.

Imagine that Tim's darling isn't actually reaped. No, she volunteers, and is determined to win. She's spent years watching the Games, losing her sisters one by one by the Capitol's greedy jerks while she's powerless to stop it, leaving her alone with her youngest sister (or more siblings if you want. Maybe they have cousins too). She's studied the games, the people, how they work, what are the tricks, and she's confident that she's going to win.

Her objective? Getting close to her sisters trapped in the Capitol and help them escape.

They're, of course, horrified when they see their little sister volunteering, her voice rising among the crowd and a stone cold expression on her face. She walks up to the stand before anyone can stop her, clenching her fists when her other sister is held back from running to her and begging her to stop. She can't. She's doing this for her too. For their family. For the life they had.

And suddenly silence is all that's heard, even from those in the Capitol who are watching it live. Even the Peacemakers don't try anything. In one move, she turned the world's eyes on her, forcing the spotlight on her.

She's so confident in her plan and her intelligence that she makes the mistake of arrogance, and doesn't realise she just drew the interest of the worst possible person for her to have: Tim Drake-Wayne.

Before that, Tim thought his brothers antics to get their District girls and keep them around was ridiculous. Why go such lengths just to marry some strangers from the Districts? He expected it from Dick, his head has always been more on the clouds and stuck in fantasies, but Jason? That was a surprise.

Now, seeing that girl stand up to volunteer, causing a commotion never seen in the games before, he understands.

However, some people think her actions could be seen as an act of rebellion and arrogance against the Capitol. She doesn't play by their rules. She doesn't follow the unwritten script of how this is supposed to go. She's charming enough in the interviews but also sharp. Honest. When she's asked what pushed her to volunteer, she said she just wanted to see her sisters again.

"For all their talk about family and the importance of love, they haven't visited us once since they married. Our youngest sister misses them. She doesn't understand why they're not coming back. So I thought, maybe if I win the Games, my beloved brothers in law will let them return to us for a while."

Silence.

She's playing an extremely dangerous game and she hasn't set foot in the arena yet.

Most see her as potential rebel, but Tim? Oh, he sees a challenge. An enigma to unravel. For the first time in his life, the games catch his interest. He sees how she thinks, what's she aiming for, and he wants to see more. Wants to know how far she can go. Wants to test that brain of hers.

Despite her sisters, she becomes the first of her family who's not immediately favoured by the sponsors. She just admitted in live she wants to take the darlings away from the Capitol, that she volunteered to defy them. Her admission breaks the Capitol's script of how everything is perfect, and how the other Darlings are the princesses of epic love stories.

The games seem to be rigged against her. Not even necessarily to kill her, but definitely to make everything more difficult for her. As a punishment. As an example for the people. But over and over, she beats their obstacles with her intelligence, rarely having to rely on brute force. She perseveres. She manipulates the other tributes, turns them against each other, until she's the only one left.

And Tim finally knows. He just found his match. His soulmate.

Unknowingly, Tim's darling will t would like hay she wants. She will reunite with her sisters forever...just not how she planned.

Yandere!Batfam Hunger Games AU

OH MY GOD!!!

I love this so much!! I am going to write for Cass, Steph, Barbara, and so on soon. I actually had a few ideas for Cass, but that's for later.

Tim's darling would be an unsuspecting little thing, she has the same innocent look in her eyes just like her sisters do, but there is something behind it, an anger, a fire, a burning desire to rip the Capitol to shreds. She grew up in District Nine, chances are if she made it past the reapings, she would probably become some sort of farmer or some housewife with not enough food to put on the table for her own children, she does not have much of a future so she has no problem throwing it away for something else besides her. So she makes a plan to win and a contingency plan to take care of her family if she does not come back, she knows what she is doing is a risk, but it is one she has to take.

One of her friends has to pry her little sister away from her, like Gale did with Prim when Katniss volunteered as tribute, carrying her back to her parents. Everyone in her district knows what she is doing and none of them can stop her even if they wanted to. She does when the boy from her district gets reaped, someone she knew from school, she would just have to make sure his death is painless. Her two sisters who won are at the reaping because they are victors and victors normally help train tributes, so both of them feel sick to their stomachs when seeing her volunteer, Dick's darling has to leave the stage because she actually does get sick.

But the game makers are not fools, they know what she is doing could be perceived as rebellion, so they pull a few strings, thinking she is as helpless as her sisters are. So when she arrives at the Capitol she gets the sudden news that her mentor has been changed to a victor from an entirely different district, she does not to get to mentored by one of her sisters or anyone she potentially knows to test her. This was Tim's doing, subtly hinting that they would not anyone to have a special advantage because she is someone's sister, but that subtle hint was not enough to stop her from getting a mentor whose mind works similarly to her own. Her mentor is a victor from District Three, who won his games by electrocuting the other remaining six tributes, Beetee Latier. She has a smart mind from learning what she needed in her district, but her mentor will teach her what she needs to know in the arena, training with him in making makeshift electronics for the arena and training with the other tributes and when her score comes out from the game makers, it is intentionally low to keep a target off of her back from the other tributes.

The Capitol does not like her much because she is not playing into some sweetheart role like Dick's darling did or some shy and terrified tribute that Jason's darling was. She does not cover up her confidence and everyone takes her for being arrogant because the odds are not in her favor. When she is asked why she volunteered she answers completely honestly, she does not need sponsors, and she does not care for the true love narrative bullshit that the Capitol pushes down their throats.

After her interviews, she was supposed to have a last-minute strategy talk with her mentor, but she is pulled aside by peacekeepers so she can talk with the game maker rigging the game against her, Tim Drake-Wayne. She already does not like him, even if he just says he wants to talk to her and have dinner, pokes at her mind and seeing that she sees past all the lies and while she could be a dangerous enemy, he sees an opportunity to test how smart she truly is. He has her escorted back to her room by peacekeepers, but not before ripping off a part of her dress' skirt for later use.

In the arena itself, they challenge her but they also have to make it look like the other tributes are receiving the same treatment. Like when there is acid rain, and she manages to dive under a rock formation to get cover, two other tributes die in front of her. Then when there is a flood, she takes a page out of her mentor’s book and electrocutes five other tributes. When there are wild wolves in the arena, she makes makeshift land mines to protect herself and her supplies from wolves and other tributes. She manages to poison the most of the career tributes’ and the other tribute from her own district’s food with poison berries so it is a quick and painless death. She eventually is the last one left in the arena.

She is seen the same by the President as he sees Katniss, a potential threat. But then during a meeting with one of the younger game makers, Tim Drake, he is reassured that she will not get far if she survives, he will make sure of that. The President is aware of the Wayne family’s tastes, so he gives the young game maker a bit of advice, something that he did during the tenth Hunger Games, she will be terrified to death and realize that his mind cannot get her out of it without a little help from the outside world, from Tim.

When there are five or so tributes left, history repeats itself with the snakes in the arena, killing the tributes brutally and much to the amusement of the Capitol. Tim’s darling genuinely thinks she is going to die and everything she hoped for is just down the drain, but the games need their victor. Tim took the President’s advice and slipped the ripped-off piece of the dress that he took from his darling after the tribute’s interviews, putting it in the snake’s tank so they get used to her scent.

She wins the games and she thinks she has a stronger grip on what she was here for, she has help from her mentor in the games to help get her sisters out, but there is a change of plans after she is crowned the victor. She was supposed to be escorted back onto a train so she could go home, but instead, she is pushed into a car by peacekeepers where Tim Drake is sitting in the back seat.

If she had not been so rebellious, she could have gone home. But now she is more trapped than her sisters were and never will get to leave his home or be seen by the outside world again, let alone the Capitol. The Capitol can stage her death, crash her train, and make the world think she is dead while Tim gets to keep her to himself.