#inheritance vip

[ladysophiebeckett]

inheritance is a succession knockoff except mc is BASTARD affair baby, doesn't have a seat on the board, her dad's been shot but he's NOT dead, her half siblings HATE her, her mom is DEAD, and her college sweetheart who ghosted comes back and he's like 'let me help you' and mc's like 'i dont trust you??? or do i??' and then for lunch she made this women sign an NDA so she would stop talking about how she had an affair with one of the board members who was also spying on *checks notes* the competing company with their tech spyware. mc has had a busy week. and on top of that her father who's been shot never gave her his last name so she has no succession rights. lol.

[lilyoffandoms]

Jarek Kho

Newest MC. I’m actually really looking forward to Inheritance after seeing a few VIP playthroughs. So I’ve already decided on my MC (unless I choose to change them up).

The writing on their tattoo is from Percy Bysshe Shelley: “O, wind, if winter comes, can spring be far behind?” If my translation is correct, it should read “if winter comes”. However, Korean is my newest language and it is the trickiest one I’ve taught myself to date, so please forgive any translation errors on my part 😅 (not that you can read it with the way tumblr butchers images).

Anyways, here it is close up. Please do let me know if you see any errors in my translation.

My Art Ish Thing Tag (Choices Edition): @storyofmychoices @aallotarenunelma @twinkleallnight @dutifullynuttywitch @loreofyore @peonierose @trappedinfanfiction

[sharpstake]

inheritance mc saying George/Gia was probably hired because their father thought they were hot and that they’ll cut them loose with six months severance pay to avoid a sexual harassment suit. oh welcome BACK Siobahn Roy

[denicienta1]

Chapter 12: A Chink in the Armor

When the time comes to make your big move, who will prove to be genuine, and who's been taking you for a ride?

[catchastarorten]

—“This one’s mine.”

Pairing: Hwang Jun-ho x VIP!fem!reader

Summary: after being pestered by your own brother, you agreed to accompany him to the island to watch the games, only to find yourself helping a waiter—Jun-ho—who was being eyed by a creepy panther-masked VIP.

Warnings: your sarcasm, mentions of death/violence in Glass Bridge, your brother is a VIP, brother & sister bickering/you put him in his place because he's being annoying, the VIPs—panther masked VIP being a weirdo, you save Jun-ho tho, English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, not proofread, sorry!

Word count: ~ 2.6k

The golden fox mask felt heavy on your face, pressing against your skin in a way that made you want to rip it off and toss it across the room. But that would be improper, wouldn’t it? A VIP must maintain decorum. At least, that’s what your insufferable little brother kept reminding you.

Speaking of him, he was sitting beside you, his wolf mask barely concealing the delighted smirk on his face as he leaned forward, watching the players stumble and fall to their deaths on the Glass Bridge. He laughed—actually laughed—when a man made the wrong choice out of the two and jumped, crashing through the wrong glass panel, screaming all the way down.

You sighed, swirling the drink in your glass, watching the liquid catch the dim light. It was infinitely more interesting than the so-called “game” before you.

How had you let brother dearest drag you here? Oh, right. He had whined and pouted and gone on and on about how you never did anything fun with him. You had rolled your eyes so hard it was a miracle they hadn’t gotten stuck in your skull, but against your better judgment, you agreed.

And now here you were, surrounded by a bunch of snobby men—your presence wasn’t nearly enough to balance out the testosterone levels—draped in velvet robes, sipping on the finest liquor, and betting on desperate people fighting for their lives.

You suppressed a yawn.

“This is so much better than another charity gala, isn’t it?” your brother drawled, nudging your arm. “You have to admit, this is real entertainment.”

“Yeah, watching poor people die really warms the heart,” you said dryly.

“Don’t be such a bore, sis,” he said, rolling his eyes. “This is tradition. You should be honored to be here.”

Oh, you were honored, alright. Honored that your parents left everything to him, making sure he had enough money to play dress-up with his rich little friends while you had to fight for your own wealth. Not that you needed their inheritance, but the principle of it still burned. He got to be the spoiled prince while you had to claw your way up in the world. And now here he was, wasting it all on cheap thrills.

The Glass Bridge game was nearing midway. The players were hesitating, trying to strategize their way across. The VIPs around you were buzzing with excitement, shouting bets, clapping, drinking like it was the biggest sports event of the decade. But all you saw were walking corpses, their fear so thick in the air it nearly masked the expensive cologne in the room.

You took another sip of your drink, letting the burn coat your throat.

“At least pretend like you’re having fun,” your brother whined. “People are gonna think you’re some kind of a… prude.”

“Oh no.” you responded mockingly.

He huffed, crossing his arms like a petulant child. If there was one thing he hated, it was not getting his way. You could practically hear the gears turning in his spoiled little mind, trying to come up with a way to make you enjoy this, but his thoughts were interrupted when the other VIPs erupted into cheers and groans. You just exhaled through your nose, staring at the mess.

It was the players on the glass bridge, arguing, too afraid to jump. One shoved another forward, out of desperation or malice. The man screamed as he plunged to his death.

“Ugh, finally,” your brother muttered. “I hate when they hesitate. Just jump, you cowards!”

You turned your head slightly, studying him. Did he even realize how pathetic he sounded? Lounging in a silk robe, sneering at people who had nothing? He wouldn’t last a minute in their position.

“You should play,” you mused, tilting your head. “Next year.”

He snorted. “Please, I would dominate these games.”

You smiled behind your mask. “Would you?”

Your brother scoffed. “You doubt me?”

“I know you,” you said. “And you wouldn’t make it past the first round.”

He looked genuinely offended. “I’d make it to the finals, at least.”

You leaned in, voice dropping. “Tell you what. If you join next year, I’ll bet against you. Just to make it interesting.”

He rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath. But you saw it—the flicker of doubt, of fear. As much as he enjoyed watching, he knew very well he would never survive playing.

And that? That was the only entertaining thing you’d seen all night.

A moment later, your eyes flicked toward the Panther-masked VIP, whose frustration over losing a bet had quickly turned into something much more unpleasant. His focus had shifted from the game to the waiter standing stiffly beside him—a waiter who, you observed, wasn’t moving quite like the other servers.

You weren’t an idiot. The way that waiter hesitated when he was called, the way his shoulders were a little too tense, the way his hands remained perfectly still as if not used to serving—it all screamed of someone who didn’t belong.

That was because he wasn’t really a waiter, it was Jun-ho disguised as one, though you didn’t know that. He had taken down one of the servers moments before the VIPs arrived on the island.

And now, the Panther-masked VIP was ordering him to sit beside him and take off his mask.

Jun-ho—recognizing the sharpness in his tone—tried to resist, his voice calm. “I need to serve the other guests, sir.”

The Panther VIP scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. “Oh, come now, the others won’t mind if I keep this one for myself, will they?”

A chorus of laughter and amusement rippled through the room, the other VIPs agreeing without a care—“he’s all yours!” one of them laughed. Your brother even chuckled beside you, raising his glass as if this was all just another part of the entertainment.

You, however, did not find it amusing.

Before Jun-ho could be forced into something he clearly wanted no part of, you lazily raised your hand and gestured toward your glass.

“I need a refill,” you said smoothly.

Jun-ho’s eyes darted toward you, wary but sharp, understanding immediately that you were giving him an out.

Your brother groaned, shifting beside you. “Come on, sis, let him have his fun—”

Your hand shot out, swatting him hard against his arm before he could finish his whining.

He yelped, rubbing his arm. “Ow! What the—?”

“Shut up.”

He opened his mouth like he wanted to argue, but the look you gave him through your golden fox mask was enough to make him think better of it. He slumped back into the couch with a huff, grumbling under his breath.

The Panther-masked VIP tsked in annoyance but didn’t say more as Jun-ho bowed his head slightly and stepped away from him, making his way toward you. You could see the tension in his shoulders ease, if only slightly.

As he reached your couch, he carefully took your glass and poured you another drink, his movements slow and precise. Up close, you could see the way his jaw was set tight, his eyes flickering with restraint.

You leaned in slightly as he finished pouring. “You okay?” you murmured, just loud enough for him to hear.

Jun-ho hesitated for the briefest moment before nodding once. “Thank you,” he said quietly, placing your glass back into your hand.

You didn’t reply, just took a slow sip while he stood beside the couch you sat on.

However, the weight of the Panther-masked VIP’s stare was suffocating. You didn’t even have to look to know that he was still watching Jun-ho like a predator eyeing its next meal.

Annoyed, you turned your head ever so slightly, locking eyes with him through your golden fox mask. You raised your glass in a slow, mocking salute before downing the rest of your drink in one smooth motion.

The message was clear: Back off.

Unfortunately, subtlety was wasted on men like him.

“Come back here,” the Panther VIP drawled, waving his fingers in a lazy command at Jun-ho.

Jun-ho’s grip on the bottle in his hands tightened slightly, his body as still as a statue. It was subtle, but you caught it. He didn’t want to go back over there.

So, before he could even think about stepping forward, you reached out and grabbed his forearm, holding him in place. Your fingers pressed firmly against the fabric of his uniform—a silent message that he could stay with you.

You sat up straighter, your voice cutting through the noise.

“This one’s mine.”

The room went quiet for a beat.

Jun-ho stiffened beside you, clearly taken aback. You didn’t mean it in the way it sounded—he wasn’t a possession. But these men only responded to power plays, and if that was the language they spoke, then fine. You’d speak it fluently.

Your brother let out a low whistle beside you, his amusement clear. “Ohhh, big sis is getting bold.”

You didn’t even hesitate—your palm struck his arm again with a sharp thwack.

“Ow!” he rubbed where you smacked him.

“Shut up,” you muttered, leveling him with a glare. “If you don’t stop embarrassing yourself, I’ll give you a real beating in front of all these people.”

He grumbled something under his breath, soothing his arm, but he didn’t push it further.

The Panther VIP, however, was not so easily prevented. “Come now,” he chuckled, though there was irritation beneath his voice. “You can’t hoard all the fun.”

“Sure, I can,” you replied dryly.

A few of the other VIPs laughed at that, enjoying the exchange. The Panther VIP let out a breath through his nose, clearly displeased, but he wasn’t about to pick a fight with another VIP. That was the unspoken rule—annoyance was fine, but outright challenging each other was bad form.

Jun-ho turned his head slightly, just enough to glance at you. You met his eyes for a brief second, and then you stood up, keeping your grip on him firm.

“We’re leaving,” you announced.

Your brother groaned. “What? Where are you going?”

You didn’t even look at him as you responded, voice utterly monotone. “Somewhere that isn’t here.”

More amusement rippled through the other VIPs, some watching with interest, others indifferent as they returned their attention to the game. But as you turned to leave, you felt it—that silent, looming presence watching you.

The Frontman.

He didn’t say a word, didn’t move to stop you. He simply observed, his masked face unreadable.

You met his gaze for a long moment before turning away, leading Jun-ho out of the room. No one stopped you. No one dared to stop you.

And just like that, you stole the only honest man in the room away from the wolves.

The moment you got him alone into a dimly-lit, empty room, you could feel the tension radiating off of him. Jun-ho wasn’t stupid—he knew he didn’t belong here, and he knew that you knew. His shoulders were taut, his breath controlled but just a little too shallow, and his hand was subtly reaching for something. A gun, maybe. A knife. Whatever he had managed to smuggle in.

You raised your hands slowly, showing you had no weapon, no ill intent. “Relax,” you said, your voice calm, softer even. You let go of his arm, stepping back to give him space. “I’m not going to turn you in… or whatever you’re thinking right now.”

Jun-ho’s sharp eyes flickered with suspicion. “And why should I believe that?”

“Because if I was planning to sell you out, I would’ve done it back there.” you tilted your head slightly, crossing your arms loosely. “Would’ve let that old man have his fun.” you said with a hint of distaste at the thought.

That gave him pause. He studied you, his gaze flickering over your golden fox mask, as if trying to gauge whether you were lying, or just the need to understand why a supposed VIP was helping him. You didn’t blame him for being on edge. This entire place was a slaughterhouse dressed up in gold. If you were in his position, you wouldn’t trust anyone either.

“You don’t belong here,” you stated plainly, watching for his reaction.

“And neither do you.”

That actually made you laugh, just a short, soft chuckle. “You’re not wrong.”

He hesitated. Maybe because your mask didn’t hold the same predatory amusement as the others. His fingers twitched, like he was still deciding whether to draw his weapon, but then he let out a slow breath.

You sighed too and gestured toward the door. “You should go. Before someone actually does come looking for you.”

Jun-ho didn’t move right away. He just stood there, looking at you like he was trying to solve a puzzle. And for a brief moment, you could tell—he wanted to ask.

Who are you?

Why are you helping me?

What’s under the mask?

But he didn’t ask. He just gave you a small nod before slipping out the door, disappearing like a shadow. You shut the door.

You exhaled, rolling your shoulders as you turned back toward the empty room. Not even a minute later, a knock came at the door. You raised an eyebrow, opening the door, meeting the presence of a square-masked guard, who stepped inside.

“The Frontman sent me to check on you,” the guard said, his voice hollow under the mask. “Where’s the waiter?”

You gave him a blank look. “What waiter?”

The guard straightened. “The waiter you left with.”

You tilted your head, voice dry. “Oh. Him.” you shrugged lazily. “I got bored. Told him to get lost.”

The square guard didn’t buy it. “Where did he go?”

You sighed, as if this was the most exhausting conversation of your life. “Am I his babysitter?”

The guard didn’t move. He was pushing. You didn’t like being pushed.

So you took a slow step forward, closing the space between you and the guard. He stood his ground, but you could feel the slight hesitation in his stance as you slowly backed him up against the wall.

When his back hit the surface, the shift in atmosphere was instant. You weren’t loud. You weren’t aggressive. But the weight of your presence—the empty, unreadable calm of someone who knew how to lie—was enough to make the guard tense.

You tilted your head slightly, a slow, empty smile forming under your mask. “What exactly are you suggesting?” you murmured, voice smooth as silk. “That I’m hiding something?”

The square guard stiffened.

“Because that would be a very bold accusation to make against a VIP,” you continued, voice dropping to something almost sickly sweet. “And you wouldn’t want to insult a guest, would you?”

There it was—the slight shift in his posture, the hesitation and hint of nervousness.

“I—”

You stepped back, your fake smile still in place. “Good talk,” you said dryly, dusting off your robe like this was nothing more than an inconvenience. “Tell the Frontman to send someone more competent next time.”

The square guard didn’t argue, he just quickly stepped away from the wall, stiffly nodding before leaving the room without another word.

You sighed as the door shut behind him, rubbing a hand against the side of your neck.

This whole thing had been a drag, but at least you’d managed to do one decent thing tonight.

[cursedcola]

Prompt: Couples will evidently begin to mimic their better half after some time. What traits do you steal from him, and vice versa? Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Characters: Everyone - because I want to and I’m amidst fleshing out all my Yuu/Character dynamics + designs Format: Headcannons. Masterlist: LinkedUP Parts: Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle (Here) | Scarabia | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia A/N: Putting all my brain rot from my notes into something cohesive. Contrary to my love for ripping your hearts out, I've come with some fluff this time around. BTW you may or may not already do things mentioned - I write my works with a specific Yuu in mind for each character so this is based on them. Just a reminder.

Habits You Steal:

Bargaining (Inherited AND Developed): No partner of Azul's is a shmuck. Not because of his standards (a little bit), but because you will learn to negotiate through trial and error. Being his pearl does not exclude you from daily verbal tango. He can and will still come after Ramshackle if given the opportunity. What? Just come stay in Octavinelle. He won't even charge for it, and you can bring Grim. He is always three steps ahead. Buying him a present is like the world's most daunting task, because he somehow already knows what's inside the box. Every. Time. Even if you shop a year in advance. Don't even start with arguments. He has a rebuttal for EVERYTHING. There is never a winner, only a settlement because he is so stubborn (and you equally so. Pride is contagious). As adults you're constantly exposed to business deals and sometimes have to deal with handling negotiations. Not to mention people with grudges against Azul attempting to shmooze their way through you. Only to find that you are just as manipulative.

"Pearl, Jade says that our deal with the Bas triplets for the next semester has been renewed? I hadn't scheduled their extension meeting until the first Saturday of next month. Would you have anything to say on this?" <- Long story short, the triplets tracked you down to beg for help in getting out of their work contract with Azul. He was always fair, and they entered willingly. No corruption on his part...but they were hell bent on not working in the kitchens with Floyd anymore. Solution? You managed to shmooze an extra week on their terms, in exchange for not being put on Floyd's shift anymore. Azul is so proud - but don't do that again. You're the one telling Floyd he doesn't get to play 'spot the difference' with the triplets anymore. Not him.

Smell Sensitivity (Developed): Nothing shanks the nostrils like sea brine. No pun intended. Lingering around Octavinelle equates to constantly smelling fish. Most students there come from the coral sea and don't mind it. Others only stop in for a quick bite to eat, and don't stay a moment more. The Mostro Lounge just has a potent smell that can't be found anywhere else. Like McDonald's french fries...but fish. Grim loves it, you now get nauseated when a scented candle is lit.

"Must you pinch your nose? Think of my- Octavinelle's reputation for a moment" <- Azul is brewing a scent masking potion as we speak. You're really hitting his pride here, even if you can't help it.

Glasses Wipes (Developed): Octopunk heats up when you so much as touch him in public. Then his glasses get foggy. If you wear makeup, its smears on his skin (to which he acts unbothered, but we all know it's a ruse). He obviously carries a hankey but having some wipes on hand is a nice gesture. Unnecessary, but sweet-ish.

Refined Pallet (Inherited): The cup ramen and foraged greens just do not cut it anymore. Not when Azul's made a VIP menu over at the lounge just for you. Sure, the place has a variety of options but he'll always get Floyd to cook up whatever you're in the mood for. At a discount (since Grim can eat him out of pocket). Have you ever had 100% dark, sea-salt chocolate imported from the coral sea? Ever tasted it in a rich devil's cake, baked fresh with only the best ingredients? Betty Crocker, who???

"I must say, your diet could still use some work - do not look at me that way. The twins found your hidden stash of instant noodles during our 'occupation' at Ramshackle. Under the stairs, pearl? Really? When was the last time your sodium was checked?"

Aversion to Sea Food (Developed): You will never understand how the Coral Sea students are okay with the Mostro Lounge. Neither what was running through Azul's head when he decided to open a SEA FOOD restaurant. Honestly? Red flag. One you ignored, but still a red flag. The existence of merpeople and therianthropes is still new and novel to you. To each their own, but you can't eat any sea creatures knowing that it could be - no, it can't be? Floyd's always joking that Azul is tasty but...it's just a joke, right?

"As much as Floyd loves to special make your chicken strips with wedges...why do you never order from the public menu? I assure you, Mostro Lounge is supplied with only the highest quality - h-huh? What crazy thoughts are you having?! Honestly!" <- This explains so much. He always thought you stared at the food with envy, because Grim would eat your pocket out and leave you to sip on lemon water. He had to force the special 'vip' meals down your throat at the start. is this why you're so uncomfortable having lunch with Floyd and his weekly Takoyaki binge?

Appraisal (Developed): Ever see those shows where a professional goes around to antique markets, and can point out forgeries, fake gems, etc. by eye? That is Azul. He's a collector of gadgets and gizmos aplenty - anyway. Strolls through antique marts, coin collecting showcases, and other marketing events will undoubtably train the eye over time. No scammer will ever shmooze ya out of house and home. Sorry Sam.

Habits He Steals:

Jacket (Developed): Mermen run cold. The uniform blazer Azul dons is more-so just for show than anything. Clothes are overall a novel concept, since most in the coral sea dress minimalistic (or not at all). The lounge runs quite chilly as well. Not enough to deter customers, but the perfect temperature to get uncomfortable after a few hours. Now Azul has many jealous bones in his body, and would rather drop dead than see one of the leech twins loan out their blazer so you can nap in the back room (they're doing it on purpose). Azul often offers his coat out to you the moment you walk inside - so often, that all the part-time workers know if you're on lot if he's walking without it.

"I need my jacket back, please. Why? N-no particular reason. Do I need an excuse to wear my own clothes?" <- Ruggie - Mostro Lounge's most reliable and simultaneously difficult part timer, mind you - was the first to pick up the correlation. If the VIP lounge was shut, and Azul was out doing quality rounds? It meant you were in the back, and he was in a better mood. The perfect time to sneak a platter unnoticed. Azul must take precautions.

Snitches Get Stitches (Developed): ONE perk of living with ghosts. Honey you get ALL the tea on campus. You just need to butter them up with a game of pranks and it’s ripe for the taking. Now, who do you think is going to make full use of this? Azul. They won’t give it to him directly because it’s more fun to make him frustrated. Which means he has to go through you. *Which means* he gets very crafty in buttering you up for details.

Midnight Hour (Developed): This mainly applies to his adult years. Wherever he goes - business or otherwise - you come with more often than not. As a youth his dealings were important - yes. Yet he was still getting his swimming legs in business and his primary demographic was students. Contrary to his pride, Azul wasn't someone important. Someone actually worth targeting like the Briar Prince. The real world is much more risky. You can help with negotiations and running facilities. You might 'think' he is tossing you into the end zone with all his ambitions...but no. Any dealings with high-stake confrontations are handled only after midnight.

"Two-o-clock in the am hours. That is the latest I can offer - well, it seems we've reached an impasse. This deal clearly is not worth my effort, if such 'accommodations' are beyond your capabilities. Allow one of my partners to escort you off the premises." <- Let's make one thing clear. No contract is ever worth putting you at risk. One twin (usually Jade) will remain at his side, the other (Floyd...because he's honestly not the best for negotiations. More guard dog material, and has fun hanging out with you) back with at the house/hotel. Azul doesn't trust 'anyone', and the Leech family is obviously in business with him. He takes no chances, screw probability, and can't kill the inner control-nerd in him. He's never out past three-am and would rather you feel a bit left out then dead somewhere in the Stillwater.

Land Legs (Developed): Considering he will be on land more for the foreseeable future, Azul puts more effort to building his land legs. Not that he wasn't trying before, but there wasn't any guarantee that he'd be working the land beyond NRC. So with the reassurance that 'something' (someone) will require his attention on shore, he decides to invest the effort. Azul will not get on one of those flying deathtraps past academy years though. He's getting a license and pulling up in a new Bugatti.

Pictures (Inherited): Much to Azul's chagrin, you love photos. Maybe it's because you have little to recall from your own world. Maybe it's because you're in the photography club. Maybe it's because you love his misery - but you are always taking photos. At first he insisted that you never get him in the frame. He hates them. Still does, do not misunderstand...and the idea of someone having so many with him included eats him up. Yet his insistent denials do lessen, and he tolerates them. You cannot post them anywhere. Yet...he will only 'mildly' grimace when looking at them around your house. Only because who the heck is coming over that he hasn't approved of?

"This picture? Ah...that is my dear pearl. They are breathtaking, are they not? I truly am the most fortunate man alive. Ah. My apologies, let's return to discussing the contract terms. May I see your completed punch-card?" <- And because you're in them too. As a youth, he kept your photo on his desk in the lounge. Sometimes a client would ask about you, and he'd lapse for a moment before folding the frame down and out of their view. He'd tuck it away whenever you came around, but would talk to it when alone. About his day, his work, whatever first year came crying because Floyd used them as a dart board - and dare I say that he'd keep a family photo in your later years together. Azul hates pictures of himself, but not as much as he loves ones of you. Look at him. Big softie.

—

"Of course. I have remarkable potential as an instructor, do I not? Is it not a great fortune to have me as one's partner? Take this as a lesson that your boss can influence even the most lost souls." == Azul shows no reservation. The moment he caught two part-timers gossiping about your 'conversion' to the 'dark side'. Why, he was positively beaming. His grin wide with a touch of something sinister. Gossip is fine, but they should know better than to do so in his den. Anything noteworthy would undoubtably reach his ears with time, but oh was it a joy to watch them squirm. Honestly. They're fortunate that he's in such a good mood - what was intended to be slandering has just made his day. They're still getting put on shift with Floyd though. He's merciful, yet no martyr.

Habits you steal:

Foraging (Inherited): You are always looking around for plants to propagandize. It's like stealing but not - because Crowley doesn't have any 'rules' about it so...heh. Free food. Jade's a living encyclopedia when it comes to botany and agriculture. He's the whole reason you've got a mini apothecary going in the kitchen and that instant-noodle stash got amped up in flavor. What? you ever add some fresh mushrooms and green onions to that instant chicken yakisoba? Mwah. The mountain lover's club needs to look out, 'cause the Ramshackle Prefect is about to bleed campus dry for every last specimen.

Yapping (Developed): Spinning off the above 'route'. Many people think Floyd's the talkative twin. Nah. This motherf*cker does NOT shut up. He treats you like his second conscience, asking questions he doesn't expect to be answered and giving commentary like your own personal narrator. Who needs thoughts when he literally says everything before you can think it? Floyd salutes you - 'cause finally. Finally, it isn't him subjected to Jade's inner spiels. Sorry Shrimpy, you are a sacrifice he's willing to make. If you ever break up or fight with Jade - Floyd's going to hunt you down - he can never go back. Never.

On a side note, you're an excellent listener now.

Tea (Inherited): Do you hate tea? No you don't. Not Jade's tea. There isn't much to comment on here, other than you will develop a taste for his Atlantic Twice-Seeped Water-Lily brew. You'll be craving it every night if ever sent back to our world (as if that'll happen). Mixed with honey from the Afterglow Savannah and served in a baby-blue ceramic cup that has a shimmer handle. That's your mug, by the way. He has other brews...some improvised and caution is indeed extended. They're tasty for the most part though.

“Ah, just smell that aroma. I developed this blend made just for you, my dear. I’m not one to seek out sweet floral notes for my tea, yet this flavor is an acquired taste that pulls you in for more. I finish the cup without realizing each time” -> Jade can be sweet himself, when he wants to be.

Wearing gloves (Developed): Jade makes you touch weird shit. All the time. Unprompted. He also makes you eat weird shit, but more often than not you can escape by shoveling his experiments onto someone he can get a more interesting reaction out of. Classically condition him not to feed you the weird shit by being unresponsive - off topic. Point is that with his obscene collection of terrariums? Plus being pulled along for foraging quests? You will be touching unknown and possibly poisonous plants, bugs, dirt, maybe some aquatic creatures like toads and fish. For all that is good, keep a pack of rubber gloves in your schoolbag. Keep a pair of insulated leather gloves in your breast pocket at all times too. Hand Sanitizer as well. Who knows when you’ll be elbow deep in murky water riddled with mysterious rainbow moss. What makes it rainbow? You don’t know and Jade won’t say. He does quip that it changes colors with emotions. Screw Twisted Wonderland and it’s freakish botany.

“Oh my, would you look at that vibrant shade of purple. Why are you so frightened? These are meant to be happy ‘bonding’ times for us as a couple, isn’t that what you said? Fufu - oh. Hurry up and put it in this jar. You’ll ruin the sample at this pace,” <- In truth, Jade saw red blooming at the edges of the moss and called quits before your nerves turned to anger. Fear? Amusing. Especially since you have more harmful ‘house plants’ growing on the mantle back at your dorm. Curtesy of Jade himself, of course. Azul doesn’t let him store his more precarious collection in Octavinelle and what you don’t know won’t hurt you. Yet he won’t push the jokes too far, since so few ever come out foraging with him. No no. He needs you to continue as a willing participant. Don’t get angry at him just yet, there are still so many places to explore and the day is young!

Doppelgänger Paranoia (Developed): The Leech twins tried to pull that shit where they swapped places for a day. Therefore you are now freakishly paranoid of Floyd trying to take Jade’s place to pull a prank. It is no help that Floyd is insanely good at mimicking his brother and vice versa. Sure, you could make a keyword or ask Jade to wear something special as a give away. Mark him. Maybe make an excuse of it being a thing human couples do and stick a pin on his lapel. Yet there isn’t a guarantee that he won’t just let Floyd in on it to see what happens. He’s a jerk like that, but your jerk nonetheless.

“Your caution is entertaining, and I do find all this extra attention flattering. Yet there are more taxing worries to mull over, wouldn’t you agree? Surely I’ve earned enough trust to circumvent any doubts in that mind of yours?” -> Do you know that the twin-swap was just a one time trick? Probably not. Doing it again would be boring with no novel results, but Jade does love watching you squirm with suspicion. He’ll offer an assurance eventually, and it will be your call to believe him or not. Until then? He has no problem being under your watchful eye. It’s quite cute, after all.

Habits he steals:

Grammar Control (Developed): Purely to piss you off. Coming from another world - your dialect isn't exactly the same as everyone in Twisted Wonderland. There are region specific languages, and then there is the common tongue. For simplicities sake, let's just say that everyone in TWST can speak common tongue and transferring over gave you this ability. Except (like Epel) you carry a heavy accent - and Jade loves to play grammar police. Your irritation never ceases to amuse him. That's right. He's the train kid from the 'Polar Express'. Just less nasal.

“Let’s try to capture that illusive letter ‘R’, shall we? You don’t want to give onlookers any more ammunition as a respectable prefect.”-> Says the only person using this as ammunition, except for Ace when he gets really snappy and Riddle’s mild cringe when your accent butchers a toast at the Unbirthday party. At this point you’re hearing ‘red leather, yellow leather’ and ‘mark went on a lark after dark’ in your sleep.

Routes (Developed): Another one with the need to have a bit of control. Just a bit. Get ready to roll out of bed at the ass-crack of dawn, because he will be there at five-am sharp to haul you back to Octavinelle (or on a hike. Saturday's only). Isn't it a human custom to stick close to your partner? He's just making sure you're cared for. Which is why you exist attached to his hip most days

Symbiosis 1 (Developed): Only a mild-note for Jade. His brother, noted below, takes this concept more to heart. Jade uses it as an enhancing factor to an already “well-rounded” relationship. The law of the sea dictates that those stronger will enter a ‘pact’ with weaker creatures - protection in exchange for care. You are not in need of protection with that frosh posse and stubborn head of yours. Jade mostly uses this ‘symbiotic relationship’ as a way to get you to do things for him, and to talk down your impulsive behaviors from time to time. Aka you won’t create excessive trouble if it means he feels ‘bound’ to go with (as if he wouldn’t be overjoyed to get in some chaos)

Observation (Developed?): Jade...knows everything about you. It's infuriating (to you, not him), but you are still a potential client regardless of his personal interest. Hobbies, tastes, your worst and best subject, weaknesses -all categorized. Azul and his business come first. Yet you're the only student on campus that has a 'doctored' file. Why?

“I never realized you are adverse to crowds. Yet you handle navigating Night Raven with no difficulties? Is this a mere preference, or would you prefer to find somewhere quiet while I accompany the others? What do you need?” -> (During Playful Land Event) He can't get the finer details without asking questions. There is no source for information about your world or your person other than your word of mouth. His unique magic would be easy - but it's just one question. One, and you might be too resilient for a response. Where's the fun? What makes this a habit is that Jade's keen eye becomes sharper.

Ramshackle (Developed): Bro just moved in. I’m serious. He got permission by pulling a favor. Azul doesn’t let him keep the more precarious plants in Octavinelle, so Jade has overtaken the kitchen with potted flora and fungi. Floyd is enthusiastic that he doesn't have to share a room - what? Twins don't always stick together. Those two probably fight more than they get along. Plus with Jade at Ramshackle it's an excuse to go see what's up with Shrimpy and maybe play with torture the little freshies you hang around with. It’s chapter three but you aren't booted out and have to deal with both Leeches every day. Seven preserve you.

—

“I let my excitement get the better of me for a moment…please, continue as if I am not here. My apologies.” == How rare for Jade’s mask to slip in front of his underclassmen. He was able to brush it off - giving a fib about his clubs upcoming excursion (not entirely untrue. He is excited to go for a hike with you this weekend). Yet the normally dull gossip of his dorm-mates was too much to bare. Not because your changes are becoming more pronounced, but because these little fish are foolish enough to think it’s making him soft. Enough to gossip so blatantly in his earshot? Gods, they make his job much too easy.

Habits you steal:

Leering (Inherited): Floyd...oh dear. He has this habit of staring holes into the back of your head. Anyone's head, really. His presence is intimidating, and it's hard not to pick up what’s going on in his head. There's a catch to this though. You only leer at other people when he isn't around. Too busy with the man in question to bother 'people-watching' (unless you're actually pissed). Riddle is constantly on edge now because he has TWO people giving him the heebee-jeebies. Prefect, it was bad enough you were taking influence from ADeuce. Now the Leech brothers? Well, he'd still take you over Floyd any day. At least you won't try to act on that unsettling aura...yet.

“Somethin’ on my face?…why’re you staring at me like that? Unless you want my attention? Hehe, ya shoulda just said so!” <- Floyd can do it to you, but you can’t to him. Not unless you want to be suplexed and squished tightly for hours on end.

Impulse actions (Inherited): Chaotic energy anyone? Floyd needs a partner who is one of two things - can kick his ass on occasion so he'll play nice, or who will match his freak. Since matching the strength of a Moray Eel isn't something most humans can do? Well, maybe a bitch slap here or there but be aware he is letting it happen. Just know. Better be playful too, not no actual challenge. Point being- you need to match his freak. No buzz-kills.

“Ne Ne~ Yanno, I’ve never seen those super fancy fireworks you land people like to set off. Wanna go get some and rig the - eh? You already got them?….Hahaha Shrimpy’s getting gutsy. I’m so happy” -> His eyes are practically glowing with anticipation. You’re now Azul's third headache 1000%, someone get that man an Asprin.

Snacks (Developed): Floyd can EAT. The only one with a stronger appetite is Jade, but he has a better control over his hunger. While their bodies changed to look human, their appetites did not decrease. Going with ‘symbiosis,’ Floyd gets a bit needy and talks like you’re his internal clock. Jade’s the yapper but Floyd just expects you to know what he needs. So you will always be carrying a selection of snacks (Grim gets in on this) in your bag/purse. Also fidget toys. Not for eating, but to give him when you’re stuck anywhere particularly boring. Props if you can somehow get a two-in-one with the twisted wonderland equivalent of those Air Heads Pull-Aparts.

Lullaby and Goodnight (Developed) : Instant calming effect. Merfolk are very particular with music and are sensitive to vocals. Floyd in particular is super picky. You could be the worst singer on the planet (Floyd will give you half-assed lip for it if you are, in all fairness) but the easiest way to calm him down is with music. It’s cringey and unrealistic to us land-folk but there’s plenty of singing in Atlantica. So humming a soft lullaby for him while sitting together won’t earn any looks in Octavinelle. Unless you sound awful, to which he will punt anyone that speaks out. Not that they would, since a calm Floyd is a godsend no matter the means achieved.

“Did I say you could listen in, hah? Sounds to me like someone’s in the mood for ‘my’ kinda song��.don’t move, Shrimpy. This’ll be quick.” <- Good or bad - doesn’t matter. Getting to hear you is Floyd’s privilege. He’s a bit possessive of it, to be frank. So if someone butts in when he’s in the middle of calming down, Floyd’s going to be pissed to the max.

The Little Mermaid (Inherited): Drags you down to the sea at every opportunity. Don’t fight him, just guzzle the vomit-inducing potion and get a move on. Floyd doesn’t care how much a mer-transfiguration potion costs, Azul can take care of it. Floyd hates being restrained to dry land, and hey. He’s up here, so it’s only fair you go down into the sea trenches too. Don’t worry, he won’t take you anywhere too dangerous. He’ll even teach you how to get your sea legs - fish legs? Look. He teaches you how to swim in your mer-form, which he is severely disappointed does not resemble a shrimp.

Habits he steals:

Phone Privileges (Developed) : Floyd’s cellphone is normally in DND mode at all times. The only exceptions are Azul and his Momma - Jade was one too up until they came to dry land. There’s only so many mushroom photos and long voicemails about random crap that Floyd can take. Oh - and you’re an exception now. He saves all your voicemails - some for callbacks to win arguments and others to play when he’s about to sleep. You just better be careful when you call him and what for, also always pick up if he calls you. Otherwise there’s going to be one angry eel lurking by your bedroom window. With ‘first-contact’ privileges, all the unflattering candid pics he has of you are just a click away from being shared if he feels like it (teases but wouldn’t do it. Well, unless you really are ignoring him. Be warned)

Using F*cking Doors(Inherited) : Yes. Yes, you read that right. Floyd loves to parkour across campus. The amount of times he’s snuck into Ramshackle through that tiny circle window in the attic is frustrating. You’re seriously considering bolting the thing shut if it keeps him off the roof and on the ground. Y’know, for someone who can’t fly a broom? He sure has no problem climbing brick walls with his bare hands like some kinda cockroach. A Leech cockroach. Jamil’s worst nightmare good god. After the sixth-or-so heart attack, Floyd’s not allowed anywhere near Ramshackle if it’s not through the front door. The ghosts have strict instructions to punt him…to which he took as a challenge (because of course he did). Until a window was smashed, and you sent hellfire down upon him.

“I said it was an’ accident! What more do you want from me, huh? It’s your fault anyway for sicking those ghost fish on me - Urk…fiiine. I’m sorry or whatever” <- Always will back down the moment you come across as genuinely pissed. Usually with a grunt and hiss under his breath, kicking his foot before stalking off to cool down for a bit. Always fixes whatever he broke or tries to make amends once his mood is less sour.

Symbiosis II (Developed): Paired with the above 'match his freak' and second rendition of Jade's. Except Floyd is 100% serious. Floyd's going to do right by you, but you've got to do right by him. People are going to wonder why the small-pint prefect is sitting here covering one of bro's shifts (they feared for your life when you basically told him to 'fuck off', knowing he was angry after getting scolded by Azul) but that's how it is. Floyd's symbiosis is different than Jade's. He's more impulsive, yet also more predictable with what he needs. The definition of "no one can tell me to do shit except my spouse" 'cause symbiosis is a mutual respect and trade. No one can pick on you except for him. No one can help you the way he does. He is not going anywhere. Ever. Bonded for life - that kind of ‘sappy shit’.

"I already said I don't wanna... ughhh, babysitting those frosh fishies is so booooring. Can't we just ask Azul to lock 'em in a tank or somethin'?.... ALRIGHT, Little Shrimpy. I get it already so stop yammering in my ear...." <- Floyd's the softer brother, if you can believe that. Acts of service are what get him and he thrives on being needed. So you'll be doing it a lot to earn that compliance from him. Be the iron fist that gets him to back down, and simultaneously the one slipping him a few party poppers to set off at one of Heartslabyul's tea-parties as a reward.

The ✨Fashion✨ (Developed) : Surface-world fashion is one of Floyd’s special interests. Oddly enough? You’re a perfectly-sized dress up doll. It’s cute how large his shoes are in comparison to your feet. Hah! You look like a clown clobbering around in those things. He 100% gives you a pair of light up sneakers that sparkle when you walk - makes it easier to find you in crowds. Not that he needs to. Mostly it’s just for fun. He’ll even get a matching pair so you don’t feel zeroed out.

VIP Menu (Developed) : Floyd has a ‘secret’ menu over at the Mostro Lounge. He’s the head cook, don’t ya know? Makes real tasty dishes. C’mon, praise him. He’ll add a few dishes just for you since you’re so picky - that’s a bad trait to have for a broke Shrimp by the way. Good thing he’s around to make sure you’re eating.

“Oi! I told ya that was for you. If the lil’ seal’s hungry he can get somethin’ off the menu on his own…unless he’s lookin’ for a squeeze?” <- One major gripe Floyd has with Grim is how he’s always mooching off your plate. It’s fine if Azul’s picky with his food, cause that’s Azul. You’re different ‘cause in Floyd’s mind responsible for you. Again. He takes the symbiosis thing more seriously than Jade, and will poke your cheek relentlessly and comment if it’s lost it’s squish. He always serves you something to eat, even if you don’t order. Doesn’t let anyone else prepare it either.

Protective (Developed) : At the risk of sounding like a broken record, Floyd is very attentive. He’s clingy as hell and always looking for an excuse to have a good tussle - you’re his favorite person to screw with. Yet only himself, Azul, and Jade get the green card to look at you with anything other than respect. Cause he knows they don’t mean it - and even your little freshman buddies don’t get a pass. Maybe the seal since Floyd could squish Grim like a grape and he knows it. Leona’s almost gotten many challenges for the whole ‘herbivore’ thing.

—

“ ‘s nice, right? What’s better than one of me? Two, hah! Jade might have my face but now Shrimpy’s got my personality” == Finds the situation funny for like, an hour? Maybe two? Doesn’t matter because ‘Shrimpy is Shrimpy’ - plain as that, really. He gets more joy out of teasing people when they find out you’re with him. As if Floyd gives two sh*ts what other people think? Nah.

[hrrtshape]

insane, dream-like things that were normal in my better cr . . . in other words, what it was like being part of the 1%

i never carried cash : i didn’t need to. if i ever found myself in a situation where cash was required, idk, a farmer’s market or bribing someone, i’d just apple pay!?

i never waited for anything : reservations were booked months in advance. lines were always skipped. at clubs we just walked right in. theme parks? VIP passes only. i have never stood in a queue longer than 90 seconds in my life...or...in my better cr.

my closet was bigger than a new york apartment : and everything was colour-coded. yep. yep !!!

i never read price tags : not because i was being reckless, because i simply did not need to know. it was always fine.

if i wanted something, i got it : saw a dress in a magazine? had it by the next morning. craved a specific croissant from a bakery in paris? it was flown in. life had no delays.

luxury was so normal i had to actively remind myself it wasn’t : by the 13th day, i would have moments, small ones, where i’d be like, " wait, not everyone has their own perfume custom-blended by a french artisan? " and then i’d move on.

the ‘poor kid’ still had a trust fund. . . they just had less in it.

errands? what errands? dry cleaning, post office, buying toothpaste. these were not my problems.

skincare was medical : not just a ‘good moisturiser’ situation, i mean dermatologist-designed, prescription-only, lab-created serums. my facials involved lasers. my face was someone’s full-time job.

my mom had a florist on retainer : fresh-cut flowers appeared in my room like magic. i never asked for them. they just were.

celebrity run-ins were painfully normal : “oh yeah, we had dinner next to tilda swinton last night.” “who?” WHO?

we never parked our own cars : valet, always. i had a friend who didn’t even know how to use a parking metre.

there was no such thing as ‘saving up’. in those two weeks i never thought, “hmm, should i buy this now or wait till christmas when i get 50 euros from my grandma?” PFTTTTT.

everyone had a ‘family office’ : financial advisers, lawyers, accountants. my money was managed. someone in my school had three.

coffee orders were wildly specific : not ‘latte with oat milk’ specific. i mean custom-roasted beans, flown in from a single farm in costa rica, brewed at a precise temperature, delivered in a monogrammed cup.

doctors made house calls : i have not seen the inside of a waiting room. ever. feeling sick? someone arrived.

vacation homes weren’t a flex, they were a given : there’s the paris apartment (1st arrondissement, obviously), the villa in lake como, the chalet in gstaad. the only real estate question was, “are we summering in capri or st. barths?

your signature scent is impossible to buy : it’s either a discontinued hermès perfume from the ’70s that you miraculously still source, or a custom blend from a perfumer who only takes five clients a year.

flying commercial is a horror story, not an option : tsa? baggage claim? delays? these are foreign concepts. you had a netjets membership at the very least, but most likely, you have a family jet with an interior designed by someone who also did a yacht.

your tastebuds have standards : your daily coffee comes from a faema e61, your eggs are from a private farm, and your idea of a snack is burrata flown in from puglia that morning. did i mention my private school had michelin chefs?? yea.

you own art. like, real art : not prints. not posters. actual, museum-worthy pieces that are either inherited or sourced through galleries that don’t even have websites.

most people don’t know what anything costs : a gallon of milk? no idea. a metro ticket? couldn’t tell you. you swipe, tap, sign, and never check.

you don’t shop in stores like normal people : you go to private showrooms, have pieces sent to your home, or shop off-runway. waiting in line… horrendous.

i’ve had a ‘house account’ somewhere : a boutique, a jeweller, a tailor. places where you don’t pay on the spot, just ‘put it on the account’ and settle later.

i was taught how to eat properly : which fork for what course, how to use a butter knife, the correct way to hold a wine glass. it’s not something i learned. it’s something i absorbed from watching adults at endless dinners, benefits, and polo events.

i don’t remember learning how to ski or ride horses : because i was doing it before i was fully conscious. i have childhood photos in full equestrian gear, little skis strapped to my feet in gstaad or zermatt. it’s just something i always did.

an art education by osmosis : grew up hearing adults talk about rothko, basquiat, and duchamp in casual conversation. dragged to the louvre and the tate before i could even read. instinctively know the difference between an original and a print.

i have a family lawyer on retainer : and not because i ever committed a crime. they exist to handle things. NDAs, reputation management, keeping your name out of the papers. they know where the bodies are buried, metaphorically (or not).

most families’ wealth is so old and so layered in offshore accounts that even they don’t fully understand it : trust funds? sure, but also shell companies in the caymans, art holdings in geneva, real estate portfolios under LLCs. money isn’t in banks. it’s spread across continents.

most parents’ have had affairs with each other for decades, and it’s not even a scandal anymore : it’s just part of the ecosystem. marriages aren’t about love, they’re alliances. the wives turn a blind eye, the husbands keep it discreet, and the real betrayal is talking about it.

i’ve been name-dropped in a deposition : it was a divorce case. i was never involved, but my name was adjacent to power, so it got dragged in. the case was settled out of court, of course.

most families has multiple passports : not for fun, not for aesthetics. because sometimes you need an exit strategy. a villa in capri, a château in france, a penthouse in dubai. doors are always open, should you ever need to disappear.

i’ve seen actual generational feuds play out in real time : my parents have enemies. their parents had enemies. the grudges go back decades, and nobody even remembers what started it.

i grew up around people who have gotten away with actual crimes : white-collar, mostly. insider trading, fraud, tax evasion. but sometimes things darker. people go to rehab, people “retire early,” people take extended trips to monaco until things cool down.

i’ve seen billionaires (and their kids) break down over the pettiest things : a bad seat at a gala, a misplaced monogram on their jet, a slight from someone whose family has less money than theirs. the richer they are, the more fragile they get.

my family has a pr strategy : this is largely because my mom is a ceo of a billion dollar company. and everything is managed. what photos are released, what stories are planted, which journalists are “friendly.” nothing is random.

i know that philanthropy is often just money laundering with better optics : charities set up for tax reasons, “foundations” that quietly funnel wealth back into the family, billionaire donations that conveniently coincide with favourable legislation.

i’ve seen people lose their fortunes overnight : one wrong deal, one lawsuit, one scandal that sticks, and suddenly, the private jets are getting repossessed. the real old money…they watch from a distance. they never risk everything.

i know that some billionaires don’t actually have liquid cash : they’re over-leveraged, playing financial gymnastics with their own net worth. yachts, art, mansions. but the second they need actual money? suddenly, things get complicated. this is why everyone in my school donated possessions instead of actual money.

met people who don’t own their clothes : couture is loaned, jewellery is borrowed, yachts are rented to themselves through shell companies. it’s all about optics. they don’t need to own when they can access.

heard rich kids joke about things that would make normal people physically ill : laughing about tax evasion, casually mentioning private rehabs like summer camp, making bets on stocks that could ruin lives.

met billionaires who are bored of being rich : the thrill is gone. the yachts, the jets, the parties. it’s routine. they start chasing danger. high-stakes gambling, extreme sports, secret societies. anything to feel something.

[one-time-i-dreamt]

My grandma had passed away, and I inherited $10,000, but social security messed up and gave me $20,000 instead, so I was scared I'd go to prison for fraud. I spent the money on medical bills and a VIP ticket to a Rihanna show and got to go on stage and sing with her.

[player279achlys]

The golden rabbit's legacy (Hwang In-Ho/Frontman x fem! reader!)

Il-nam's granddaughter will prove herself worthy of being the next hostess, while someone becomes her loyal shadow.

CHAPTER II: midnight's surprise

Previous chapter: Chapter I

Next chapter: Chapter III

Pairing: Hwang In-Ho/Frontman x Original!female!Character

Word count: 1,8k words.

Summary: In the shadow of her grandfather’s dark empire, Melinoe, a brilliant young woman in her early twenties, steps into a world of blood, betrayal, and power she was never meant to inherit. As the granddaughter of the infamous Oh Il-Nam, creator of the deadly Squid Games, she is thrust into a brutal legacy that demands she not only survive but thrive as its new hostess. Determined to honor her family’s name and prove herself worthy of the golden rabbit mask, she designs games more cunning and lethal than any before.

But power comes at a cost. Beneath her calculated exterior lies a woman haunted by guilt, trauma, and the faces of those she has condemned to die. And at her side stands Hwang In-Ho, the enigmatic Front Man—older than her, cold, and feared by all, except for her. Since the day he learned of her existence, In-Ho has been deeply, obsessively in love with Melinoe. His devotion is as intense as it is toxic, a tangled mix of desire and protectiveness that pushes him to control every aspect of her life.

As Melinoe rises to prominence, she finds herself navigating not only the deadly games but also the dangerous allure of In-Ho. Their relationship is a powder keg of suppressed emotions, forbidden passion, and fraught power dynamics. He would destroy anyone who comes close to her—including a charming, younger VIP who flirts with her one too many times. Yet, while In-Ho dreams of keeping her safe in his arms, Melinoe dreams of reshaping the games into something darker and more just—her own twisted vision of justice against the world’s worst offenders.

When the 33rd Squid Games begin, everything changes. With her grandfather entering the arena as Player 001 and Gi-Hun as Player 456, the games take on unprecedented stakes. As alliances crumble and bodies fall, Melinoe must contend with the weight of her grandfather’s legacy, the manipulations of the VIPs, and the unrelenting obsession of the man who would burn the world for her.

In this slow-burn enemies-to-lovers romance, “The golden rabbit’s legacy” explores themes of obsession, power, betrayal, and the lengths people will go to protect the ones they love. Juxtaposing the dazzling opulence of the VIPs with the desperate brutality of the games, it tells the story of a woman fighting for control in a world that threatens to consume her—and the man willing to do anything to keep her.

Will Melinoe rise as the queen of the games, or will the bonds of obsession and love be the end of her?

Warnings: MDNI!!!, Afab!, angst. Sexual language. Fear of losing someone. Smut (light kinda), grumpy x sunshine, dark romance, age gap, possessive, obsessed, paranoid and dominant In-Ho, daddy issues, yandere behaviour, jealousy, violence, murder, typical squid game stuff.

English isn’t my first language, if there are any mistakes, please forgive me. :)

The room felt smaller now, the space between them shrinking with every second. In-Ho’s hand lingered on Melinoe’s cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin with a tenderness that contradicted the chaos roiling inside him. Her gaze searched his, her hazel-amber eyes shimmering with an emotion he couldn’t quite name—but it was enough to undo him.

“You’re trembling,” she whispered, her voice so soft it felt like a caress.

“I’ve been trembling since the moment I met you,” he admitted, his voice raw. His hand slipped to her jaw, tilting her face up to his as he leaned closer. “You make me weak.”

Her lips parted slightly, her breath hitching as his words hung in the air. He could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest, feel the faint warmth of her breath against his skin. Her vulnerability, her strength—they were a siren’s call, and he was helpless to resist.

“In-Ho…” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

Whatever restraint he had left shattered at the sound of his name on her lips. He took off his mask just enough to expose his lips and closed the distance between them, capturing her mouth in a kiss that was equal parts desperation and devotion. It was a collision of longing and need, years of buried emotions spilling out in an instant. 

Her hands found his shoulders, gripping him for balance as he deepened the kiss. He tasted the sweetness of her lips, felt the softness of her body pressed against his, and it sent a jolt of electricity through him. He wanted more—needed more.

Without breaking the kiss, he lifted her from the chair, his hands gripping her hips as though she might disappear if he let go. She gasped against his mouth, her arms looping around his neck as he carried her to the bed.

When he laid her down, he paused, his dark eyes drinking in the sight of her. Her hair fanned out across the pillow, her lips swollen from his kiss, her skin glowing under the soft light. She was a vision, and for a moment, he couldn’t believe she was real.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick with reverence. His gloved hand traced the curve of her cheek, down to her jaw, then lower, to the delicate hollow of her throat. “You’re everything.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she reached up to tug at the mask he wore. “I want to see you,” she said softly, her fingers hesitating just beneath the edge.

For a moment, he froze. The mask was his armor, the thing that kept the world at bay. But as he looked into her eyes, he realized he didn’t need it—not with her. Slowly, he removed it, letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud.

Her breath caught as she took him in, her fingers brushing against his face. “In-Ho,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion. “You’re…”

“Yours,” he finished, his lips curving into a rare, small smile. “I’m yours.”

Her hands moved to his chest, unbuttoning his jacket and slipping it from his shoulders. He followed her lead, removing the layers of his uniform until there was nothing between them but skin. His hands roamed over her body with reverence, memorizing every curve, every dip, every scar.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his lips trailing down her neck to her collarbone. “Every inch of you.”

She shivered beneath his touch, her body arching toward him as he explored her with a mix of tenderness and hunger. His lips pressed against her skin, leaving a trail of kisses that made her gasp and writhe beneath him.

“In-Ho, please,” she whispered, her voice heavy with need.

He stilled for a moment, his dark eyes locking onto hers. “Tell me you want this,” he said, his voice a low growl. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” she replied without hesitation, her hands tangling in his hair.

That was all he needed. He claimed her again, his kisses growing more fervent as his hands slid down her body. He worshiped her with every touch, every kiss, every whispered word of praise. 

In-Ho’s mouth traveled lower, his lips brushing against her thighs, his touch reverent and filled with devotion. He took his time, savoring the taste of her, the way she trembled beneath him, the soft moans that spilled from her lips. She was his—completely, utterly his—and he wanted her to feel it in every fiber of her being.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured against her skin, his voice husky with desire. “So perfect for me.”

Her hands gripped the sheets as she gasped, her body arching toward him. He didn’t relent, his mouth and hands working in unison to bring her to the edge. When she cried out his name, her voice filled with pleasure, it sent a surge of pride through him.

He moved back up to capture her lips in a kiss, his body aligning with hers. He entered her slowly, carefully, his forehead pressing against hers as he whispered her name like a prayer. The connection between them was electric, a mix of passion and emotion that left them both breathless.

“You’re mine,” he said again, his voice low and possessive. “And I’m yours.”

They moved together, their bodies perfectly in sync as they gave in to the need that had been building between them for what felt like so long. He worshiped her with every touch, every kiss, every whispered word of love and devotion. She was his anchor, his salvation, and he would do anything to keep her safe.

When they finally collapsed together, their bodies tangled and their breaths mingling, he held her close, his arms wrapping around her protectively. For the first time in years, he felt at peace. She was here, in his arms, where she belonged.

In-Ho awoke to the soft rustle of sheets and the faint scent of lavender still lingering in the air. His arms instinctively tightened around her, the warmth of her body pressed against his a grounding comfort. For the first time in years, his sleep had been untroubled, his mind unburdened by the ghosts of the games. Melinoe had banished them all with her presence.

But when his eyes fluttered open, his chest tightened. The bed beside him was empty.

“Melinoe?” His voice was hoarse, rough with sleep and a trace of panic.

The door to her quarters was ajar, the faint sound of guards patrolling the hallway drifting in. She was gone, and though he knew she was likely safe, the gnawing fear of losing her again began to creep in. In-Ho sat up, running a hand through his disheveled hair before burying his face in his palms.

How could I let her leave?

The memories of the night before replayed in his mind with vivid clarity—the way she had looked at him, the way she had whispered his name, the way she had melted beneath his touch. He had given her everything, yet now the cold emptiness of the room threatened to swallow him whole.

Melinoe stood in the bunkroom, the oppressive atmosphere of the games pressing down on her like a physical weight. The other players were subdued after the horrors of the first game and the first night there, their faces etched with fear and exhaustion. She felt their stares, though she wasn’t sure if they were scrutinizing her or simply searching for someone to share in their despair.

Her mind was a storm of conflicting emotions. The night she had shared with In-Ho had been… unexpected. She had seen a side of him that no one else had—a man burdened by duty, yet capable of a love so fierce it both frightened and intrigued her. And yet, she couldn’t allow herself to be consumed by him. Not now. Not here.

If she was going to survive this, she needed to focus.

“Eun-Seol,” a familiar voice called out, pulling her from her thoughts.

She turned to see Player 077—Wol-Jin—approaching her with a cautious smile. His dark eyes held a mix of curiosity and admiration, though there was an underlying tension in his expression. She forced a smile, hoping to deflect any suspicion.

“Good morning, Wol-Jin,” she replied, her tone even.

“You’re holding up better than most,” he remarked, his gaze sweeping over her. “It’s impressive.”

“I’m good at compartmentalizing,” she said with a small shrug, her eyes drifting to the guards stationed at the far end of the hall. She knew one of them would report her movements back to In-Ho. It made her skin prickle with unease.

Wol-Jin stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Listen, I know this is crazy to even say in a place like this, but… you’re different. You’ve got this calm strength about you. It’s inspiring.”

Melinoe met his gaze, her expression softening despite herself. “Wol-Jin…”

“I just want you to know,” he continued, his tone earnest, “if we get through this, I’d like to see you again. Outside of all this madness.”

Her stomach twisted uncomfortably, and not just because of his words. She could feel the weight of unseen eyes on her, the knowledge that In-Ho was likely watching their exchange sending a shiver down her spine. She needed to put an end to this, for Wol-Jin’s sake as much as her own.

“I appreciate that,” she said gently, “but I already have someone waiting for me. Someone who means… everything.”

Wol-Jin’s expression faltered, disappointment flickering across his face. “I understand,” he said after a moment, his voice tinged with resignation. “But if things ever change…”

“They won’t,” she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

“She’s lying,” he muttered to himself, his voice a low growl. “She’s protecting him.”

He paced the room like a caged predator, his mind racing with dark thoughts. The scotch bottle sat on the desk, its contents already half gone, though it did little to soothe the fire burning in his veins. He replayed the conversation in his head, dissecting every word, every expression. She had chosen him last night—she had said she was his. So why was she entertaining that boy?

“You’ll regret this, Wol-Jin,” he muttered, his voice venomous. “I’ll make sure of it.”

He wanted to act, to send the guards to drag the boy away and eliminate him on the spot. But he knew he couldn’t—not yet. Melinoe would see through it, and the fragile trust they had built would shatter.

For now, he would wait. But when the time came, Wol-Jin would pay for daring to stand too close to her.

How was chapter II my babes??? Did y'all like it?? I hope you did, I'm not an expert writing, let alone writing smut... But In-Ho just... makes us wild, doesn't he?

Do y’all want me to make a taglist or am I getting too excited too soon?

Also, while I write or read a fanfic I listen to this playlist, in case y'all wanna check it out! <3

Loves you, Achlys.

[ladysophiebeckett]

this dropping two weeks after that ceo was shot is so funny.

[lilyoffandoms]

Jarek x Trey

It’s the beige love affair he clearly has going on with his clothing for me lol

I feel like I managed to capture them slightly younger still not quite college age young but eh at this point it’s close enough for me haha

My Art Ish Thing Tag (Choices Edition): @storyofmychoices @aallotarenunelma @twinkleallnight @dutifullynuttywitch @loreofyore @peonierose @trappedinfanfiction

[sharpstake]

I love you already kendallshivroy simulator 🫶

[denicienta1]

Chapter 11: A Leader of the People

As Vitality faces strife from within and threats from without, will you prove yourself to your would-be supporters or have them turn on you?

[ho3smadd]

hello! i see you’re taking requests and want to know if you can write a lando x reader where the reader is from miami and bumps into lando somehow during the miami gp where he got his first win? how they get together can be entirely up to you and i can’t wait to see your writing ! :)

The very first night

A/n… Hey sure sorry if this is bad I'm not used to writing one-shots anymore and the last time I wrote I was 13 and I had an imagines book on wattpad so thank you for bearing with me. If you have any tips please comment them<3

Summary… the reader and her father have been fan of f1 for as long she can remember and they finally get to go to a race where she bumps into lando

Parings… Lando Norris x reader

Warnings… mentions of alcohol and clubbing

Masterlist

The Miami sun was setting in a blaze of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over the city that still buzzed with the excitement of the Grand Prix. The streets were alive with fans, their faces flushed with the thrill of the race, voices loud with animated discussions of every twist and turn.

Y/n and her father strolled through the crowd, their footsteps light with the shared joy of a fantastic day. Ever since she was a little girl, y/n had loved Formula 1, a passion she inherited from her father. They had spent hours and hours watching races together and their love of f1 grew as she did. Today in particular they had witnessed something extraordinary: Lando Norris wining his first ever Grand Prix.

"He was amazing, dad" y/n said, her eyes sparkling as she spoke about her favorite driver "I'm so happy that my first Grand Prix was such an impactful one"

Mr l/n nodded, pride and excitement radiating from him. "Moments like these are exactly what got me into this sport."

They turned the corner into a quieter street, leaving behind the busy crowd. Y/n's thoughts were still on the race, replaying the moment when Lando crossed the finish line. Her admiration for the driver was at an all-time high.

As they continued walking, y/n was distracted by her excitement after witnessing such a monumental race that she didn't notice the figure in front of her until it was too late. She stumbled backward, her feet tangling together.

Strong arms wrapped around her, steadying her before she could fall "whoa, easy there!" A voice said, filled with a mix of amusement and concern.

Y/n looked up, her heart pounding as she found herself staring into the eyes of none other than Lando Norris. Her favorite driver. His dark hair was messy and his face still wore the faint traces of exhaustion and exhilaration from the race.

Neither of them said a word until her father broke the tension. " you know honey, usually you get to know the guy before you fall for them." He said shaking his head and chuckling at his daughters usual clumsiness.

Lando let out a small laugh, unable to contain himself and y/n wished in that moment that she was 6 feet under.

"Are you okay?" Lando asked turning himself back to the girl.

"Yeah, I think so, no bruises, besides the one on my ego" y/n said giving him a small smile, wishing that her father would say something instead he was distracted by a phone call and disappeared.

"I'm sorry about that. I wasn't paying attention." Y/n looked down ,hoping the earth would swallow her whole.

"It's all good, happens to the best of us." Lando smiled, trying to ease the girl's obvious discomfort.

“Congratulations on your win,” she said, finally finding her voice again. “You were amazing out there.”

“Thanks,” he replied, his smile widening. “It still feels unreal. I’m Lando, by the way.”

“I know,” I said, laughing nervously. “I’m Y/n”

“Nice to meet you, Y/n,” he said. “So, what’s your plan for tonight? Celebrating?”

“Not really,” she admitted. “I was just heading to the hotel because my parents have plans. I don't have any big plans.”

Lando's eyes sparkled mischievously. “Well, that won’t do. How about you join me for some real celebration? I’ve got a VIP invite to a club downtown. It’ll be fun.”

Y/n hesitated for a moment, then thought, Why not? It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. “Sure, why not? Let’s celebrate your win.”

He told her which club they would be celebrating at and they went their separate ways to get ready.

Soon it was time to go celebrate. She had already sent a text to her parents letting them know she would be out.

They made their way to one of Miami’s hottest nightclubs, the crowd parting as Lando led the way. Inside, the music was loud, the lights dazzling, and the atmosphere electric. People cheered and congratulated Lando as they moved through the crowd, finding a spot near the dance floor, by his friends and fellow racers.

She made small talk with his friends before Lando ordered drinks, and everyone toasted to his victory, the night unfolding in a whirlwind of laughter, dancing, and shared stories. The club’s energy was infectious, and for a while, it felt like they were the only two people in the world to enraptured by the feeling of their bodies pressed against each other, and too drunk to even think about anything else.

At one point Lando pulled her aside for a small break and more shots. " this is incredible," he said over the music. " I still can't believe it's me they are all celebrating." His smile never fading as his eyes twinkled in pride

"You deserve it. You were so incredible. I'm glad I bumped into you." She said, smiling at him gleefully

"Me too." He replied, his gaze locking with hers as he handed her a shot. "Here's to new friends and new victories." They downed the shots and headed back to the dance floor together.

They danced until the early hours, the night a blur of excitement and joy. As the club began to wind down, Lando and y/n found themselves outside, the cool Miami breeze a welcome relief.

“Thank you for an amazing night,” y/n said, feeling a little sad that the night was coming to an end.

“No, thank you,” Lando replied. “You made it unforgettable.”

They exchanged numbers, promising to keep in touch. As the girl watched him walk away, she couldn’t help but smile. She had set out for a quiet evening, but fate had other plans. And as she made her way to the hotel, she knew that this night and Lando Norris would always hold a special place in her heart.

[adibkhorram]

Cover Illustration by Forouzan Safari. Cover Design by Daniela Medina.

What's that? It's the cover for my debut adult romance, I'LL HAVE WHAT HE'S HAVING!! Coming at you August 27, 2024. Which is like...five months away. Terrifying!!

When it comes to love, substitute teacher Farzan Alavi is a disaster. Newly heartbroken—again—he’s drowning his sorrows at Kansas City’s newest wine bar. Only instead of being crowded between strangers, he’s escorted to a VIP table for one. There, the hot sommelier does more than treat him to the meal of his life. The way he flirts with Farzan ignites instant sparks.    There’s just one problem: David Curtis thinks Farzan is Frank Allen, Kansas City’s most influential food critic. The truth only comes out after the two spend an unforgettably hot night together. Good news—both think the mix-up is hilarious. Bad news—David is studying to become a master sommelier and has no interest in a relationship.    Neither expects their paths to cross again . . . until Farzan inherits his family’s bistro. The two agree to a friends-sans-benefits exchange: David will share his industry knowledge, and Farzan will help David study. Only business turns to pleasure when neither can ignore the attraction still sizzling between them. But with David set on a cross-country move after his test, and Farzan committed to his family’s restaurant, how can their relationship last past the expiration date? 

It's got...

–A fast burn romance –Elder millennials –Mistaken identity –A one night stand that leads to more –Food and wine –Friends with benefits to lovers –The best friend group around –Four chili peppers on the Adib Khorram Spice-o-meter (we're talking a lot of boning, people.)

You can even preorder it now if you like!!

[octuscle]

Can you do a sequel/follow up to Fun at the Not so Fair Ground where a paid of rude and obnoxious preppy university guys get on the bad side of the travelling fun fair workers, particularly Daz, and they get the same treatment Darren did? That was such a hot story

This is a sequel to this story:

Robert and Melvyn had been given $200 each by their parents to have fun at the fair. Of course, they both knew that this was the price the two friendly couples were willing to pay for a relaxing evening without their annoying and spoiled brats. And they also knew that $400 was painfully enough to pay for an entire evening of fun. Even at a carnival, which would certainly not be too expensive as entertainment for the lower classes. But the two of them were more than flush with cash themselves. Robert had a well-stocked trust fund from his grandparents, which yielded a more than generous return. And Melwyn had inherited a block of flats from an uncle, the rental income from which could easily finance his life of luxury. The 400 dollars hardly mattered.

So now the two of them were at the fair. Kids' stuff… They had already celebrated their 12th birthday at Disney World. What else could impress them?

As feared, the whole fair was a pretty boring affair. They even had no fun attacking small children in the bumper cars. Nevertheless, they behaved as if they owned everything here. They let every member of staff know what they thought of the underprivileged people here: NOTHING! And they didn't let people they didn't think much of say anything to them either. They didn't care about rules. And if someone reprimanded them for it, they didn't care either. They were both Upper Eastside. And the others there were Staten Island.

“Hey guys!” they heard a voice from behind them. “A number of colleagues and guests have complained about you. Behave yourselves, or I'll have to expel you from the fair!” Robert and Melvyn turned around. Who dared to speak to them like that? The guy who had dared to do that was obviously Staten Island or worse. A lowlife who spent too much time in the gym or working hard. Maybe only five or six years older than them. But from a different world. He smelled like an ordinary cologne, was dressed the way you might expect someone who worked the carnival to be dressed. His heavy chain screamed “fake”. But his eyes! Piercing blue. Almost hynotizing!

“Listen, you asshole, we're guests and we're not going to let someone like you tell us anything anyway!” said Melvyn. Robert laughed, held out 50 dollars to the guy and said, “That's enough for you to stop bothering us?" The guy smiled. Well, his mouth was smiling. His piercing blue eyes didn't. Robert and Melvyn had messed with the wrong guy. Kyle was Daz's right-hand man. Kyle knew his way around the fair almost as well as Daz, who was the undisputed ruler here. And Daz had given Kyle a free hand in how to deal with the two troublemakers. They had a special way of solving such problems here.

“Guys, maybe we just got off to a bad start. Let's forget what happened.” Kyle continued to smile his ice-cold smile. “I'm the boss of the ghost train here. There's a special ride for special guests only. It would be a pleasure to invite you. He held out two plastic chips with “VIP” written on them. Ghost train...! What a pathetic amusement. But it was cool to see how quickly this bastard caved in to them. He was scum. And Robert and Melvyn were the bosses! So they graciously took the chips and followed Kyle to the ghost train.

It was a terribly boring ride. Only small children would be scared of something like that. Robert and Melvyn were glad when the ride was over and the barrier of their little gondola opened again. They headed for the exit. Suddenly a door slammed shut in front of them. And a hidden wallpaper door creaked open. This had to be the part with the special tour. But here too: Boring effects. Some of them were obviously broken. And the dust and cobwebs seemed to be real. Robert and Melvyn stood in front of a picture with the caption “Your greatest horror”. Well, yes. Greatest horror. It showed two young men with cheap clothes, a cheap haircut and obviously no future. Robert and Melvyn weren't afraid of people like that. They ignored people like that. Next to the picture was a mirror. It was labeled “Your future”. Robert and Melvyn saw two young men with cheap clothes, a cheap haircut and obviously no future. Damn! Robert grabbed his face and his reflection did the same.

Robert and Melvyn looked at each other and turned pale. They looked like scum working at the fair. Cheap faux-leather clothes, chavish haircuts. But fit, athletic bodies. “Dude, what do you look like?” Robert wanted to ask. But instead he said “Yo, what do you look like, huh?”. And he spoke in a heavy New Jersey accent. “Yo, we gotta bounce, like, right now! We gotta skedaddle outta here!” Melvyn replied. And his accent was just as heavy!

In a panic, they both looked for the exit. They found themselves behind the ghost train. Above the exit was a sign that read “Employees only”. Darren tried to open the door. Melvyn rattled the handle. A man opened it for him. Behind the door was a small staff lounge. The man asked him if they wanted to apply for the job of young man traveling with the fair. The two ran off in a panic.

“Yo, buddy, you got any smokes or what?” asked Robert Melvyn. Neither of them had ever smoked in their lives. But their nicotine-yellow fingers now spoke a different language. Melvyn looked in the breast pocket of his leatherette vest. There were exactly two cigarettes left in the crumpled pack of filterless Marlboros. Robert took his Zippo out of his trouser pocket. Damn, that felt good!

“Oi, you muppets! How long are you gonna lounge about? Mel, get your butt to the dodgy car ticket stand! And Rob, shift that rubbish from the beer tent, yeah?!” Shit, if Kyle was in a bad mood, he'd just fuck them both hard again. Sure, it wouldn't be that bad. But there was no money in getting fucked. Mel and Rob finished their fags and trudged off to their chores. While Rob dragged the garbage bags to the bins, he wondered for a moment why he was doing this. Wasn't he actually here to have fun? He heard Mel's hoarse voice shouting through the loudspeaker “Oi, lads and lasses, next shindig's 'round the corner! Come and have a right laugh like ya ain't never had before. Let's hit it, yeah? WILD TIMES AHEAD!” It was clear that Mel had got the better job again. He had probably blown Daz or Kyle earlier. Shit, he could do with another fag already.

Rob and Mel were not the smartest employees at the fair. But they could get stuck in and work hard. They had lived in a caravan with Rob's stepbrother Kyle since they were kids. The fact that they were only stepbrothers had the advantage that they could fuck without any problems. And Mel, as a distant cousin or something, who had lost his parents at an early age and moved in with his godfather Daz, was free as a bird anyway. Shit, he'd already had every showman's cock in his face at the funfair. But preferably Daz's. And that gave him a certain special position.

Unlike Kyle and Daz, Rob and Mel weren't lead wolves even after years. But at least visually they could pass for alphas. They loved life at the fair. They wouldn't trade places with the snobs running around at the annual Newport Beach funfair for the world. Mel imagined Rob with silky hair and a polo shirt when he saw a youngster like that running past him. The youngster looked disdainful. Mel snorted. No, his best buddy was more of the bald-and-naked-upper-body type. Thank God!