#there's no way the rest of us have a chance | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pixiepipedreams · 1 day ago

Text

♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — intrusive thoughts, tied up in knots, by the concept of us // in-ho x reader x gi-hun

♡ ⁄ pairing: in-ho x reader x gi-hun ♡ ⁄ warnings & tags: fem!reader, canon-typical violence & death, obsessive behavior, lying/manipulation, age gap (reader is 20-22, in-ho & gi-hun are late 40s, early 50s) ♡ ⁄ wordcount: 6.9k ♡ ⁄ summary: the second vote holds no promises for a brighter future, and both in-ho and gi-hun find themselves contemplating the ever intriguing player 132. THIS IS PART THREE OF A SERIES! (➊) (➋)

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵ ﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

In-ho had dedicated his youth to policing the criminals of Seoul, and he has seen the balance of human nature. He had been devoted to fighting the good fight, keeping the criminal population in line, dealing with drunks and abusers and the worst of the worst. He’d never done anything unjust, never used unnecessary force, but still, he’d been tossed to the curb in his hour of need, falsely accused of accepting bribes. Like clay, the cruel hands of the universe shaped him into what he needed to become to survive. The games had been both a blessing and a curse, a way to fight back, to save his wife and unborn child.

None of it had mattered. Every sacrifice was just another digit pressed into his moldable form, so slow and sure that he hadn’t even noticed the difference until he’d received the invitation from Il-nam to front the games. It had felt like a reclamation, a saving grace, a way to hide from the misery of his life as a widower, from the disgust he felt with an uncaring world. When choosing between the lesser of two evils, he chose the more black and white option - give one or two pieces of gum on the bottom of the country’s shoe a chance to unstick themselves and reform, while the rest get tossed and burned like the trash that they are. Like everyone is.

That’s what you should have been.

Another piece of gum, debris, a bag of trash rotting on the side of the road. Another inconsequential player, another layer of scum on this waste of a planet. But at every turn, you surprised him. The optimism in your view of life, the intelligence in your eyes, the strength that you carried even in fear. You pointed out flaws in Gi-hun’s arguments, you challenged In-ho just by existing. He should hate it. He should want to corrupt you, bring you down to his depths of apathy and revulsion with the world.

In a way, he does.

Player 132. (Y/N). You were an unexpected factor in his mission, made all the worse by the fact that you bear the same number he did in 2015. Every flicker of feeling that you cause in him is only accentuated by the closeness the games force the players into, the camaraderie between those meant to be competitors. Despite himself, he feels that same union with his team, as well, celebrating the victories of every passing team in the Pentathlon.

Weakness. Human connection. One that he can work in his favor, a flaw to exploit.

That’s what he pretends the victorious feeling in his chest means while they return to the dorms, but even he can’t deny the high of winning as a team. His sabotage had only made it more delicious that they all made it out alive, and the adrenaline still buzzes in his veins, better than any glass of whiskey.

Your hands fidget nervously as you stare at the player count, wondering how much longer it could be before you find out if Young-il, Gi-hun, and player 222 made it out alive. The bed you sit on is closest to the open concrete floor, and you feel on edge, ready to jump and run at a moment’s notice. The rest of your team is more tucked into the tighter enclosure the bunkbeds make, conversing about the games. Where are they?

“Hey,” player 120 says, her voice soft and assuring, calling for your attention. “132. You surprised me out there. It was really… impressive, honestly. You sure you’ve never played Spinning Top before?”

You look over, smiling faintly, your leg jittering as it bounces in place. “I’ve never played it. Well - in America, we have tops, but you just spin it from the axle. No twine. I guess I just… had a good teacher.”

007 laughs, but covers it quickly with a cough. His mother whacks him on the chest, then turns to you with kind eyes. “Are you and player 001 close? He doesn’t seem like the… helping sort.”

You tilt your head, surprised by the observation. But you can understand it - when Young-il isn’t engaged in conversation, he shows little to no emotion, carries a coldness that seems impenetrable. “We’ve talked,” you say vaguely. “He promised to help me with any games that I don’t quite understand. Since I wasn’t raised here.” You clear your throat, feeling oddly embarrassed, like you’re admitting to some deep secret crush, even though you’ve done nothing of the sort. “What are your guys’ names? So I have something to call you besides a detached number.”

The group goes around sharing names, and you commit them to memory. Whatever the outcome of these games, you refuse to forget any of them. Perhaps it would be too big of a burden to remember everyone’s name who’s already died, would haunt you until your own end, but it feels like a bigger sin to not know at all.

Light discussion starts, easy joking, but you can’t focus, your eyes flicking from the group to the door as you wait endlessly. Where are they?

When his team returns to the dorms, In-ho’s eyes instantly find you, a locked missile on target. You’re sitting near your team, but still separate, disengaged. Another curiosity - despite your disposition, and your apparent friendly nature, you keep yourself apart. Perhaps you recognize the truth he’s accepted long ago - despite any kinship one might feel with a person, or a group, everyone is on their own at the end of the day. Family, friends, coworkers, passing acquaintances, they all fall away to serve their own needs. It takes you less than a second to meet his eyes, and his stomach clenches at the way you instantly relax, sheer relief etched into the line of your posture. He’s not foolish enough to assign his own reaction to unease.

He gives you the tentative smile that Young-il would give, but his eyes are dark. Whatever cocktail you stir inside him, he knows that your own reaction to him is much simpler. Attraction, maybe. Comfort, certainly. Why him, of all people, instead of Gi-hun, or that player, 120, that you’d spoken to before, he can’t begin to comprehend. Is his mask that good, his performance so inviting? No, it’s not quite that. He needs to dig into your mind, unravel the knots into understanding. Perhaps the knots are his own.

He follows his team with a sense of purpose, duty, forcing himself to look away and your warm, relieved smile, that churning in his mind feeling so out of place in the typically still waters of his mind. As they sit, he shakes his head, focusing on the group, his team.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I don’t know what happened,” he says, infusing a sheepish embarrassment into his words, his hands clenching the metal of the bench as his shoulders tuck forward.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Dae-ho says quickly, his voice overlapping with Gi-hun’s own assurance.

“What happened earlier?”

In-ho’s spine straightens on instinct at the sound of your voice, and he forces himself to relax, looking up, oddly surprised to see you step up to their group. He shouldn’t be. His eyes trace over you, as if checking for wounds, even though he saw you escape earlier entirely unscathed. Your hair is a bit messy, the grease of not showering settling in, and your hands are shoved into your pockets, an infused nonchalance to the posture. You make a concerted effort to look at everyone in the group before your eyes land on In-ho.

His mouth goes dry.

“Ah, it’s nothing,” Jung-bae says with a small grin, always playful and easing the tension. “Big bad number one over here just struggled on his game. We made it out, though! So nothing to worry about.”

“If he hadn’t helped me in Jegi with the final kick, we never would’ve made it,” Gi-hun adds, a trace of his old smile on his lips, trying to comfort whatever tension in him that he’s sensing.

Your eyes narrow, searching In-ho, in a different manner than he just analyzed you. Like you know something. That intelligence you hide behind easy smiles flashes in full force, but then it’s gone, any concerns or comments you had not even reaching your throat. “I’m glad you all made it,” you say finally, smiling, and your eyes flick to player 222. “Especially you.”

She meets your gaze, a quiet appreciation in her expression. She nods her head slightly, unable to express her true gratitude, and that’s another thing that In-ho doesn’t wish to think about. The pregnant player. Another barnacle on the world’s ship, but perhaps the way he closed off his feelings after the passing of his wife had left some backdoors open for unwanted sympathy. He refuses to wonder about what the outcome would be if his wife had entered the games instead of him, refuses to imagine her in this place, founded on cruelty and equality.

She would have died either way. There’s no reason to wonder, to feel the sick twist in his gut.

In-ho rocks in place, unable to tell if it’s the surge of his own undesired emotions or the act of Young-il that causes it. “222, are you doing alright?” he asks, but doesn’t care. He doesn’t.

“Yeah. Thank you all for including me on your team,” she replies with a slight bow of her head, and In-ho catches a soft smile on your lips, likely comforted by the fact that you genuinely helped her.

“She smashed that ddakji and flipped it on her first try!” Jung-bae adds, grinning. 222 ducks her head, hiding a proud smile. “And for a pregnant lady, you were fast, too. We were lucky she joined our team.” His eyes flick to you, and In-ho clenches his jaw briefly. There’s too much ease in Jung-bae’s words, in every conversation, and he finds it grating - both with Gi-hun and you. In-ho’s eyes flick to Gi-hun, his own expression dry of any emotion or reaction.

Gi-hun is already looking at you.

He hadn’t heard the conversation the two of you had last night, too far away at the time, but he had watched. Observed. Even not knowing what passed between the pair, he knew that some sort of understanding had been reached, that you hadn’t taken your eyes off him for a moment.

That earlier, when you brought the pregnant woman to his team, you’d looked at Gi-hun first.

The conversation continues, and In-ho laughs in all the right moments, in the bond over the victory, but he keeps you in his line of vision. When Dae-ho stands next to you, his eyes land on the distance between you both, a sour feeling in his gut, like bile.

“Perhaps we should learn each other’s names. I still don’t know any of your names. I’ll start.” He gives his name, and its meaning. Huge tiger. In-ho suppresses a laugh - which is an odd feeling. Laughter doesn’t come easily to him anymore, and fighting to keep it down is unfamiliar. Jung-bae gives his next, because of course he does.

When player 222 offers hers - Kim Jun-hee, a name that instantly gets engraved in his mind - he can’t seem to help the words bubbling from his lips. “Jun-hee, when we get out of here, you should head straight to a hospital. You’ve been under a lot of stress. You need to get yourself checked out.”

“Okay,” she replies softly.

“I’m Oh Young-il,” In-ho adds, tossing his false name into the ring. Amusement rises in his chest - it’s likely that no one will look too closely at his name, or assume he’s lying, but he’d been rather proud of the joke of it all. Right down to the last detail, of taking Il-nam’s family name. Flying right under Gi-hun’s nose.

“Young-il?” Jung-bae repeats, arching a brow.

“Yes. ‘Young-il’ sounds like ‘zero one,’ and that’s my number,” he explains with a playful smile, his finger pointing to the patch on his chest. His eyes meet yours, catching the way they narrow. It would make sense that you hadn’t put the pun together yourself, and he gets the cold feeling that you’re suspicious of him. You, of all people. It isn’t that you come off as naive, but you had trusted him so easily last night, allowing him to sit with his hand in your hair as you fell asleep. He had assumed you didn’t see through his manipulations, the strings he pulled in the world of these games.

The group shares a laugh over his name, but not you. You arch a brow, smiling, but with that sharp look in your eyes. “The gamemakers must have a sense of humor,” you murmur wryly, but that coldness spreads in his body. Everyone else chuckles, but In-ho knows there’s more to your statement.

And he realizes there might be even more to you than he thought.

“And you?” he asks quickly, looking to Gi-hun. “Your full name, I mean. I only know you as Gi-hun.” Another lie, so little in comparison to the rest.

“Oh, right, um… Seong Gi-hun is my full name,” he replies quietly, eyes flicking between In-ho and you. Curious.

“Seong - that literally means last name, doesn’t it?” he asks, feeling almost nervous. It’s not the right word, but the strange tightness in his chest can’t seem to be described any other way. He laughs, his chuckles rolling off him through the anxious energy, at his own bad joke.

Nobody else laughs, but there’s a flicker of amusement in your expression. “Like our ‘un-Seong hero’?” you add, voice laced with humor as you speak in English for the first time in his presence. He laughs harder, not expecting the cheesy joke from your lips, and you laugh too.

Such a delightful sound. Something bright and sweet, like the sky on a cloudless day in a past that’s long gone. There’s a couple chuckles in the group, but nobody laughs as much as the two of you do. Somehow, you make him feel like Young-il, the man he used to be, and In-ho, the man he’s become, the man he’s always been underneath it all.

The doors open, guards filing in, and the joviality of the room quiets, stills. Any small relief that the groups have managed to find after escaping the last game with their lives dissipates. You tear your eyes away from Young-il, your mind churning, twisting over the information, but it’s hard to stay focused on his potential deceptions with the gut-dropping recognition of the button being wheeled in.

“Congratulations to all of you for making it through the second game.” The head guard stands in the center of the group of pink-clad soldiers, the rigid square on his face an indicator of his rank. The lights turn off, the now-familiar glow of golden light shining down on them as the pig takes the spotlight above their heads. “Here are the results of the second game. In the second game, 110 players were eliminated.” The familiar chiptune plays as the bank above everyone's head fills with bundles of won, counting the bodies that had been bloodily removed from the schoolyard scene of the last game. “The prize money accumulated up to this point is 20.1 billion won. Since there are 255 players remaining, each person’s share is 78,823,530 won.”

Uproar. People start shouting out complaints, the ‘O's growing restless at the realization that even with so many dead, the split of the prize pool isn't enough. Even for you, that amount isn’t enough to settle your father’s debts and pay his medical bills.

In-ho has to hide a smirk, even as something inside him clenches. Just as expected, desperate greed wins over the lives of the people whose blood invisibly stains the prize pool. He eyes Gi-hun, who stares around the room, cataloguing the people complaining with barely disguised loathing. Gi-hun, who has never been able to look past the cost of all that money to see the freedom it grants. In-ho can hardly judge. He’s barely touched his own money, after all.

“I completely understand your disappointment. However, we always keep the door open for you to pursue new opportunities. You will now take a vote to decide whether to continue the games or not. Whether to continue the games for a bigger prize or to stop here is entirely your choice. Please feel free to exercise your right to choose in a democratic manner.” The guard’s voice is clinical, rehearsed, and a sick feeling twists at your gut. Just how many games have there been? How many times has he said these exact words?

And the implication slams into you, the easy manipulation of the words. The vote hasn’t even happened yet, and you already know the outcome. Desperation, self-preservation. Nobody is leaving the games today.

“I should go,” you say softly, as the crowd accumulates at the edge of the glowing ‘X’ and ‘O’ separation on the ground. You give a slight bow of your head, turning to leave, feeling displaced, uneasy.

“Wait, (Y/N),” Gi-hun says, halting you in your tracks. Your eyes flick to him, widening. “Stick with our team. You said you, uh, you wanted to fight by… by our side, last night, didn’t you?”

Lips parting, you can’t seem to take your eyes off his face. That wasn’t quite what you said, but based on his shifty expression, he knows that. You said you wanted to fight by his side. The invitation still surprises you, but underneath that surprise is a warmth at being included, at him asking you to stay. You nod, smiling a little. “I would appreciate that, thank you. And, if it’s at all possible, if… if we end up staying for another game, I’d like for us to try and keep an eye out for the team that kept me alive today.” If. You don’t want to crush their spirits with the foresight you currently hold.

Gi-hun’s eyes soften, smiling just a little, but it feels like a victory. You find yourself craving more of that smile, to see the full force that used to come easily to him, if the lines of his face are anything to go by. “We’ll do our best,” he replies, his voice just as soft as those eyes. He must be a very kind man. You get a little lost, looking at him, at the lingering cloak of who he once was. "We have to end the games here,” he adds, turning to the group. “I will help you all with my winnings from the first game when we get out. Please trust me, and vote to leave.”

“Don’t worry,” Young-il adds, eyes locked on Gi-hun. “I want to stop here too. I should go.”

“Yeah,” Gi-hun says, his eyes softening as he looks back at Young-il. “You should be with your wife at the hospital.”

And then you freeze. Wife. Your lips stay closed, but your eyes widen a fraction, feeling a horrible sense of disappointment that takes you by surprise. It shouldn’t be shocking, you should have suspected it, seen the train coming at you full force. He’s twice your age, it makes sense for him to be married - hell, Gi-hun probably has a wife too.

Young-il’s frozen too, and his eyes slowly slide to meet yours from the side. His expression is unreadable, and he doesn’t respond for a moment, his lips parting. Then he looks back at Gi-hun, giving a smile that seems a little tight around the edges. “I’ve been away too long,” he responds quietly, agreeing.

The group chatters, quickly agreeing to all vote to leave. Deep in your gut, you know it’s not enough. But you’re not thinking about that, not in this moment. You’re thinking about Young-il’s hands on yours, guiding you through the motions of spinning an invisible top. You’re thinking about him cradling you to his chest, of the details of his face that you don’t dare to look at now. And you come to the realization that you’re well and truly fucked.

“Guys, all huddle up again,” Dae-ho calls, drawing your attention to him. He’s much easier to focus on than Young-il or Gi-hun. He juts his hand out, arm rigid and straight, into the center of the group. Everyone lays their hands on Dae-ho’s, and you hesitate, before setting yours down last. It’s strange, being a part of a group. “In one, two, three. Victory at all costs!”

“Victoryat all costs!” You all call back.

The voting is in reverse order, this time. Young-il doesn’t hesitate before pressing the ‘X’, but there are a few surprises - namely, two of your old teammates pressing ‘O’. But you can’t blame them. Even with Gi-hun’s offer to pay off your group’s debts, you don’t know what to pick. Hyun-ju hasn’t received that same offer, nor has Young-sik.

Player after player gets called up, but it’s obvious early on that your vote alone won’t matter. Even if every ‘O’ on your team switches, even if Young-sik and Hyun-ju had voted differently, it wouldn’t be enough.

“Player 132.”

Your body trembles, but your feet move automatically, not sparing a glance for Gi-hun or Young-il. When you reach the buttons, you stare down at the glowing red and blue domes, unblinking. It doesn’t matter, does it? What button you press? You already know the outcome. You feel a horrible guilt at the idea of taking Gi-hun’s money, just another stack soaked in blood. The money floating above you may be no different, but at least it’s from your competition - the cost of your own survival, not his.

You press ‘X’. It won’t be a close vote, not by a longshot, so your ‘X’ serves no purpose other than to prove to Gi-hun that you stand with him. Your mind is still detached as you step to the red side, standing next to Young-il but refusing to look at him.

He leans closer to you, heat prickling at your skin from his proximity. “(Y/N),” he murmurs. You bite the inside of your cheek, not reacting. You feel ridiculous, like the little kid you haven’t been in so many years right now, crushing on a married guy. It isn’t his fault. Maybe he felt protective of you, just because you’re only in your 20s. He never actually did anything untoward.

His hand in your hair, stroking it until you fell asleep. Comforting, safe, but not wrong.

The blue crowd cheers on their side - another recruit to continue the games. He sighs softly, settling a hand on your arm. Your body jolts, despite yourself, a zing running through you, your eyes flicking up to meet his despite yourself. “I–”

“Excuse me, everyone!” Gi-hun’s voice rings out across the room, taking command of it. Your breath catches, head turning to stare at him as he walks toward the center. Ever since the first game, he’s been magnetic, unignorable. Young-il’s hand tightens on your arm, then drops, and he suddenly steps forward before Gi-hun can make it to the open space.

“Are you all out of your minds?” Young-il shouts, sending a shiver through you. Your eyes flick to him, stunned. “You still want to keep going after watching all those people die? Who’s to say you won’t die in the next game? We have to stop. We’ll all die if we keep going! Come to your senses, and leave with that money.”

You feel like you’re waiting for something - maybe the guards to step in, to shout that interruptions to the voting process aren’t allowed, for one of them to press a gun to Young-il’s head. But it doesn’t come.

Players from the ‘O’ side step up to argue, including the detestable player 100. But your eyes drift back to Gi-hun, watching him watch Young-il. Touched isn’t the right word, but Young-il joining him in protesting the continuation of these sadistic games definitely affects him. Gi-hun’s eyes are huge, relieved, to not be fighting for this alone. Awe doesn’t fit any better, but it’s the only thing your mind comes up with.

“If we play one more game, the prize will be at least 240 million!”

For some reason you cannot decipher, it’s Gi-hun’s expression that pushes you to step forward, into the aisle. “And if you die?” you say, your words sharp, eyes flicking to player 043, who had just spoken. “Almost a third of the players died in this last game. What makes you think you’re special enough to make it out? You’re all cowards, just hoping as many people as possible die. You’re not fucking invincible - everyone here has the same odds of getting out. Do you feel so lucky? There’s 255 of us left - if another 110 die, that’s almost half of us. 50/50 odds - a coin flip. Heads, you win - tails, you’re gone forever, and you’ll be the one who dug that grave.”

Silence, for just a moment. Then, player 095 - Young-mi, you remind yourself, Young-mi - sobs, tears streaming down her face, pleading with the other players to not continue these games. Pity wrenches through your gut, and again, you wonder what someone so fragile could have done to end up here. How she ever called the number on that business card after being slapped by the recruiter. You find yourself unable to look at her, your eyes finding Gi-hun’s once more. Something akin to dread builds in his expression, but there’s a quiet gratitude laying under the surface.

Young-il steps between you two, eyes locking on yours for just a moment before scanning the crowded ‘O’ side.

“If you die here, your family won’t even get your body. Then it’d be the end for you and your family! Don’t you see?” Young-il shouts, but the ‘O’s are beyond hearing. Their arguments are solid enough, but they refuse to acknowledge on thing - that every single one of them is praying that as many people as possible will die, besides themselves. It doesn’t take long for them to start up a chant, mob mentality kicking in, spreading like an airborne virus.

“One more game! One more game!”

A chill runs through you. Those words were exactly what you had thought during the first vote. One more. Just one more.

The vote continues, digital numbers climbing higher and higher, and you can’t bear to watch. Knowing the way something ends is much different from watching it all happen. Will you survive one more? And what about the one after that? There’s little chance that the vote will turn back to your team’s favor - at least, not while player 100 is alive. 10 billion won owed… that man won’t rest until there’s at least only four players left, splitting the prize into 11.4 billion per person.

Gi-hun’s posture is slumped in the glow of his red vote, and your heart aches for him. He’s a good man, you know it deep in your soul. How a man like that could possibly win such cruel games is beyond you. And to be the only one to make it out alive…

Your feet take you to his side before your mind catches up. “Gi-hun,” you murmur, your hand grabbing his wrist. He goes still, statuesque, but you persist. “Please, can we… can we talk?”

A few breaths pass, but he nods, turning to you, his wrist slipping from your hand. He looks down at his arm, then his eyes meet yours. He feels… strange. It’s the same tightness in his chest as he felt earlier, when you approached his team with Jun-hee in tow. There was no guarantee that his team would do better than any other, especially since he hadn’t known the game going in. But the look in your eyes as they met his, a desperate edge to them, but not desperate on your own behalf… it had stunned him into silence. He wasn’t able to speak. It wasn’t the desperation, but the sheer trust that affected him so. You had trusted him with two lives, neither one of them your own. He’s not worthy of that trust. Every life that has been entrusted to his care, with the exception of two, has met a violent end. Both you and Young-il, so firm in your belief of him. He wants to apologize now, for not speaking up when you asked for his help. But what could he say? He can’t explain his reaction, the stunned twist of his chest the way he’d been trapped in your gaze. The way his mind had fit the puzzle pieces into place to paint a clear picture of his understanding of your character.

Your eyes are wide, intense as they meet his. “What is it?” he asks quietly, his brows furrowing, his lips set in the frown he’s worn for years now. “Are you alright?”

You huff out a breath, nodding, the intensity never leaving your expression. “Yes, but… Well. I had a few questions,” you say slowly, your expression pinching, as though you’re holding something back.

“A few questions,” he repeats dumbly, rubbing at his wrist, still feeling the warmth of your hand. He hasn’t been touched, not gently, in years now. “About?”

You swallow, and his eyes follow the bob of your throat, chest seizing with that strange tightness. “About… about your games. If you don’t mind. I know it’s a hard subject, but… We need to plan ahead, to think more about how this will all play out.” He just gives you a blank stare. Faintly, he feels himself nod for you to continue. “At this point in the games, how… how many people were left, in yours?”

Gi-hun’s brows furrow, and he tries to think, beyond the blood splatters on the playground scene, beyond the sounds of gunshots, beyond his tongue desperately working to melt the sugar honeycomb candy. “About 100,” he says finally, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

“Oh, wow,” you mutter, eyes flicking up to the board. “So… 155 less than we have now. You really must have saved a lot of people this time around, interfering in that first game.”

His eyes squeeze shut for just a moment, remembering the weight of a body pinning him to the ground, after the first death caused a stampede of people attempting to escape. But… but you’re right. So many more people died in his first Red Light, Green Light game. “And?” he asks tiredly, rubbing his forehead, trying to focus on this room, not that giant field filled with blood. To not remember revisiting it later, when it was empty, with only one opponent. Sang-woo. He flinches, tries to cover it with a cough, but when his eyes meet yours, he can tell he wasn’t fooling you.

“Sorry, it’s just… Well, it’s impressive. You’ve given more people a chance, here.” You cross your arms, shoulders hunching up, but your eyes don’t leave his. “They said it was new, allowing the players to vote after every round. You didn’t have that choice?”

“No… well. If the players called a vote, and the majority decided to leave, then the money would be split among the deceased players’ families. None of the surviving players would get anything. My…” His jaw clenches on reflex, and he shakes his head. “One player called for a vote, after the first game.”

“And everyone chose to stay?” you ask, brow furrowing.

“No… no, actually. We all left. But they gave us the option to return. Most of us did,” he explains quietly, eyes flicking around the room, finding it hard to look at you as he answers the stream of questions, the tightness in his chest only growing.

You pause, taking that in, your breaths even beside him, almost meditative. He peers at you out of the corner of the eye, taking in the contemplative twist of your lips. “Why would they change the rule?” The question stuns him, and he doesn’t have an answer. If anything, it might be because of him. To prove a point. But that feels too self-important to say, to admit that the Front Man may be choosing to play a separate game with him at the cost of hundreds of lives. But you don’t wait for an answer, sucking in a quiet breath. “How many people made it to the final game?”

His eyes flutter shut. “Two. Is that all of your questions?” he asks, voice a bit too sharp, now. Raw emotions threaten to crash over the dam he’d built in his mind. Memories, he can handle. But they don’t exactly have therapy for the kind of trauma he went through, and every emotion goes unsorted.

Silence. Gi-hun opens his eyes, squinting at you, feeling oddly guilty. It’s not your fault, not really. But this isn’t a subject he’s spoken openly about, ever, and he feels like a stripped wire. “Yes, sir,” you mutter, arms tightening across your chest. “I’m just trying to figure out the best way to convince these people to leave. One of them needs 10 billion - that means he won’t rest until there’s only 4 players left. If not less. I’m sure the gamemakers will want to cut the number of players by more than half in the next game, to try and make the final games closer.”

His eyes slowly open more as you speak, surprised by the observations. They’d tickled at the back of his head, but he’d been operating on blind determination this entire time. Analysis has never been his strong suit, though admittedly he’s gotten better at it in the years since his own game. You remind him of…

He bites the inside of his cheek, almost hard enough to draw blood. “Yeah,” he agrees, his voice quieting to something softer. “You don’t need to call me sir,” and those words are just blurted out, spilling like a bowl of ramen after too much soju. It’s the last thing that he should have focused on, but it feels wrong, to have you call him something so impersonal. “I’m sorry for being short with you, it’s just that… I don’t speak about that time.” He reaches out, but aborts the motion halfway through, his hand hanging in the air. What the hell is wrong with him? “You say that you think they’ll try to cut the players by more than half?”

You nod, your eyes softening as you look up at him. “We need to keep our team together next round. To keep as many of us alive as we can, but also… because we’re the only votes that can be guaranteed to be ‘X’ next time.”

Resourceful and compassionate. Something inside him aches as he nods, feeling struck dumb. “You said you were a student, didn’t you?” he asks, eyes roaming over your features as you blink back at him.

“Uh… yeah, actually. I spend most of my time studying, to be entirely honest,” you admit, eyeing him curiously. “Why?”

The corners of his lips twist up, a gesture that feels unfamiliar in his life after becoming a billionaire. “Nothing. I can tell, though. I appreciate having your brain to work on this with me.” He pauses, tilting his head. “Is that why you’re here? Student loans?”

You stiffen, eyes widening a fraction, biting your lip. But you nod. “That, and to help my father,” you say vaguely. You have every right to play your cards close to your chest, but he wants them laid out bare, for him to study, learn, understand. The urge terrifies him.

He swallows past the lump in his throat, nodding. Your father. “You shouldn’t be the one bearing your father’s problems,” he mutters. A brief alternate future flashes through his eyes, one where Ga-yeong, as an adult, has to pay his gambling debts, one where he never entered the games. Guilt stabs through him. “What is it? Gambling?”

What he doesn’t expect is the way your expression darkens, your mouth twisting into a frown that doesn’t fit your face. “Housing debts. He hasn’t had a job in a while, and he was never good at holding one down to begin with. Maybe gambling - I haven’t asked.” Your face is pinched, your lips a distractingly cute shape, even in your upset. He feels a bit dizzy, actually, but he shakes it off, feeling an instant aversion for your father. Perhaps it’s because he reminds Gi-hun of who he used to be, who he still could’ve become. “He’s in the hospital,” you add in a hushed tone, but don’t elaborate. He doesn’t want to push you, but he feels a shocking wave of anger. You shouldn’t be here - although he believes that about every person in this room, that nobody deserves to end up in these games, it’s fiercer, more violent when it’s you. Sure, you likely have your own debts as a student, but your father’s incapability shouldn’t be the reason your life is on the line.

“So that’s why you voted to stay after the first game?” he asks, his voice insistent, intense. Angry.

Maybe you think he’s angry at you, because your eyes narrow. “Yes. But I voted ‘X’ this time, didn’t I? Why, is that a problem?”

“He shouldn’t be your responsibility. He should be taking care of you.”

“He’s my father,” you snap back, defensive. “He’s the only person I have in this country, the only parent I have left. I’m not–” You cut yourself off, eyes oddly shiny, and it takes him a moment to realize that you’re tearing up. His mouth opens, then clamps shut, his expression clearing itself of the white-hot anger he’d felt. His hand reaches out, taking your upper arm in his grasp. Right. Your father is in the hospital, and here he is, practically yelling at you for giving a damn, just because it made him uncomfortable to be speaking to someone on the other side of the situation he had been in years ago.

His own mother’s death sits in his chest, unresolved, clumsily compartmentalized along with every other horrible thing he’s had to deal with. The guilt of eternally letting her down, until the very end. Of not even being by her side in her last moments. Of Ga-yeong, thousands of miles away, and the way these games got in the way of everything and everyone he cared about.

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, his eyes wide, flicking between your own.

Gi-hun hadn’t said anything that you hadn’t already crossed your mind. Your own guilt feels like lead in the pit of your stomach, Gi-hun’s words mirroring your worst thoughts. His apology stings, a slap to the face. Why should he be sorry? You feel sick. “Whatever, alright? It’s fine.” You rub at your eyes, at the tears that never fell. “We all have baggage.” Yours just happens to be a sick, indebted father, and a strained relationship with your dead mom. “I voted to leave, even though that money up there isn’t enough to cover it all. Whatever your baggage is, beyond these damn games, isn’t my fault, and you shouldn’t be taking it out on me.” Gi-hun just stares at you, wide-eyed, looking a little younger. Not by very much - but he looks like the man he might’ve been, before his first time in these games.

A thought bubbles up like a laugh, that it’s probably been a while since he was last scolded by a woman for hurting her feelings.

He presses his lips together, eyes darting to the side, and you realize, belatedly, that his hand is still warm on your arm. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, softer this time. “I told you, though, I’ll give you enough money to cover your debts. Your father’s, too.” He squeezes your shoulder, his other hand partially raised, almost in surrender.

You would laugh if that sentiment doesn’t twist the knife in deeper, despite being well-intentioned. “I already feel horrible enough, taking the blood money from this game,” you reply, voice tight. “I don’t know if I can handle your ghosts on top of my own.”

Gi-hun’s expression twists, but there’s a deep understanding in his eyes. “Please. If that money is good for anything, it’s helping people escape the same fate that others couldn’t.”

Your insides are churning, a befuddling mixture of guilt, pain, understanding, appreciation, and�� something else, something you shove deep down. If your feelings for Young-il were misplaced, you refuse to make the same mistake twice. But something about Gi-hun tells you that he’s unmarried, unattached. A man with any kind of relationship in the outside world, filial or romantic, wouldn’t come back to a place like this.

“If we make it out,” you finally reply, your shoulders dropping, arms loosening. Gi-hun nods, his expression drawing in at the reminder. One more game. “I’m still with you, Gi-hun. I trust you.”

He smiles, just a little, and finally releases your shoulder, albeit hesitantly. There’s something strange in his eyes, stress or guilt or something more. As you finally walk away, you don’t let yourself wonder, don’t let yourself get caught up in frivolous emotions for a man who carries too much weight to ever let someone else lighten the load. And you pretend you don’t feel Young-il’s eyes watching you as you take a bed in the corner with Gi-hun’s group, choosing to lay down and stare at the mattress above you, trying not to think of anything at all.

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵ ﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

♡ ⁄ taglist: @pursued-by-the-squid @in-hos-wife @bloooooopblopblop <33333 @nellabear @gloriousjellyfisharcade @politicstanner @xcinnamonmalfoyx @beebeechaos @delfinadolphin @bbrainr0t @ineedazeezee @watasinekoru @solarpotato @nerdytif @speedymagazinewhispers @machipyun @dilfismz

#front man x reader #hwang in ho x reader #in ho x reader #in ho x you #the frontman x reader #gi hun x reader #gi hun x you #seong gi hun x reader #the frontman x you #front man x you #squid game fic #squid game fanfic #oh young il x reader #hwang in ho x you #young il x you #young il x reader

208 notes · View notes

flwrkid14 · 3 days ago

Text

Love Like a Gothic Novel

Tim doesn’t think of himself as particularly romantic.

Sure, he loves Danny—loves him with the kind of devotion that could make or break empires, loves him with a ferocity that could shake the stars from the sky. But romance? That’s always been something more suited to poetry, to grand gestures in old films, to couples who carve their initials into tree trunks and murmur sonnets beneath the moon.

Romance isn’t for people like him. It's for people like Danny.

Danny, who looks at Tim like he’s the first and only wonder of the universe. Danny, who says beloved with a reverence that makes Tim feel like something sacred, like a prayer answered in full. Danny, who looks at him like he hung the stars in the sky and named each one after the sound of his heartbeat.

Tim never stood a chance.

(Neither did anyone else who has to witness it.)

The first time it happens, they’re fighting a group of goons in an alley, and Tim hears the telltale sound of a gun being cocked behind him. Before he can turn, Danny appears—cloak billowing, eyes glowing like the ghosts in old fairytales.

“How dare you,” Danny says, voice rich and dripping with venom. “You would dare raise a weapon against my heart? Against my soul? Against the very breath that fills my lungs?!”

The gun is on the ground before the goon even realizes he’s dropped it.

Tim barely has time to blink before Danny grabs his wrist, pulling him close like they’re about to waltz. The fight is still going on around them, but Danny lifts Tim’s gloved hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles like they’re in the middle of a ballroom instead of a crime scene.

“You are safe, my love,” Danny murmurs. “Always.”

Tim is mortified.

The rest of the family is delighted.

After that, things spiral.

Danny starts leaving handwritten notes in his cape like love letters sent from the battlefield—ink-stained scraps of paper folded carefully and tucked between his gauntlets, slipped into his utility belt. Sometimes, they’re poetry, verses that read like something stolen from the pages of a forgotten novel. Other times, they’re dramatic declarations of vengeance.

(“My dearest Polaris, I have heard troubling news that someone—someone—has made you sad. Rest assured, I will handle this. I will destroy them. I will salt the earth in your name.”)

Tim never figures out how Danny gets the notes in his suit.

And it’s not like Tim doesn’t return the feelings. His love isn’t something grand or sweeping—it’s in the way he fixes Danny’s gloves when they start to fray, in the way he absentmindedly tangles their fingers together while he’s working. It’s in the late-night coffee runs when Danny’s had a bad day, in the way he memorizes Danny’s favorite food spots just to surprise him later. It's in the way he looks at him like he’s something divine.

Danny notices.

Danny always notices.

And if the family wasn’t already insufferable about it before, they’re unbearable now.

Dick sighs dramatically whenever Danny dips Tim during fights just to kiss him. Cass watches with open delight whenever Danny calls Tim darling in that rich, old-fashioned tone. Jason still won’t stop muttering about how is this our reality? Where does Timbo even find these people?

The only one truly suffering is Damian, who looks like he’s considering self-exile whenever Danny sighs, “Mon amour,” and Tim just… accepts it like it’s normal.

(It is normal. Danny has been like this from day one. Tim is just used to it.)

And when Tim presses a kiss to Danny’s temple after a long night, when he rests a hand over Danny’s heart like he’s grounding himself there, Danny’s expression softens into something unbearably fond.

“My heart,” Danny murmurs. “My shadow, my light, my love—”

“Go to sleep, Danny.”

“…Yes, Polaris.”

(They are ridiculous. It is perfect)

#tim drake #danny phantom #danny fenton #brain dead #dead tired #dc x dp #romantic chaos #dramatic declarations of love #flawless relationship goals #dramatic couple vibes

396 notes · View notes

alaia777 · 3 days ago

Note

IM SO SORRY I FORGOT TO SPECIFY IF I WANTED FLUFF OR ANGST😓😓 I want fluff😋

I requested rin (bllk) for "you really have no clue how to talk to women, huh?" OR "we should just run away."

i hope you like it! :’)

you’ve been dating rin for almost two years now, but you’ve known him for much longer—ever since kindergarten, when you told him football was stupid, and he immediately shot back that you were stupid. one “fight” later, your teacher forced you to spend recess together for a week, and somehow, you’ve been stuck with each other ever since.

so by now, it’s routine—annoying him, getting on his nerves, and watching him act like your presence is a burden when you both know he wouldn’t have it any other way.

you were the one who made the first move, mostly because you had a slight suspicion he liked you. you’d had feelings for him for a while, and the more you noticed the little things, the more convinced you became.

and when you finally told him, he had the straightest face ever—completely unreadable. except for his red ears. and the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed.

…yeah. you were right.

the only thing he told you after that was a simple “same,” and the rest is history.

it might not look like it to anyone else, but to you, rin is the sweetest guy. sure, he has a hard time verbalizing his feelings, but you know he cares. it’s in the small things—like when he picks up your favorite beverage from the coffee shop, paired with whatever pastry obsession you’re into that week. or when he sets aside time every week to watch rom-coms with you, even if there’s a football match on tv.

and then, there are the little gifts. he never calls them sentimental, but you know better. every time he comes back from a city he was playing in, there’s always something small he picked up for you—sometimes a keychain from a place you both visited together, or a notebook from a city you’d talked about visiting but never had the chance to. each one of them has a connection to a memory between the two of you, something only the two of you would understand, and that’s what makes them so special.

but verbalizing it? he’s just not the best at it. rin’s pretty cutthroat with everyone, and even though he used to be like that with you when you were just friends, now that you’re more than that, he doesn’t want to risk it. he keeps his words to himself, always cautious.

so, when you’re getting ready for your date with him, it catches you off guard when he says:

“that is a dress.”

“yes. it is,” you reply, still not quite understanding his reaction.

“you’re wearing it.”

“yes, i am.”

you’ve worn dresses around him before, so his reaction is a bit confusing. “rin, what’s going on?”

“nothing,” he says quickly, avoiding eye contact, though you can tell he’s trying to say more.

“it fits you,” he adds, almost reluctantly, before quickly looking away, clearly not used to expressing compliments.

when you finally understood what was going on, you couldn’t stop the laugh that slipped out. “you really have no clue how to talk to women, huh?” you said, trying to stifle your giggles, but the more you tried, the more it looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor.

“that movie we were watching the other day, the girl said women like to be complimented by their boyfriends. i thought..” he trailed off, his gaze darting away. “i thought you might want that too.”

you raised an eyebrow, leaning back with a smirk. “oh, so now you’re using rom-coms for relationship advice, huh?”

he scowled, clearly irritated, but there was no mistaking the faint blush creeping up his neck. “shut up. don’t make this a big deal.”

you laughed again, unable to resist. “too late, rinnie. you’ve already made it a thing.”

rin let out a long sigh, clearly trying to hide his discomfort. “can we just go already?” he grumbled, glancing at you quickly before looking away.

you raised an eyebrow, suppressing a smirk. “what’s the matter, rin? never complimented someone before?”

he scowled, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “i don’t do that.”

“right, you’re too cool for that.” you teased, arms crossed.

“i’m not, just, it’s stupid, okay?” rin muttered, still avoiding eye contact.

“so what was that about rom-coms then?” you pressed, enjoying his flustered state.

“i don’t need your sarcasm right now,” he shot back, clearly embarrassed but not willing to admit it.

you chuckled, stepping closer to him. “fine, let’s just go, rinnie. but you know, maybe you should try complimenting me more often. you’re not so bad at it.”

rin grumbled under his breath but you could see the faintest twitch at the corner of his lips, just enough to know he wasn’t really as annoyed as he was letting on.

“let’s go,” he repeated, his tone still blunt, but you could tell he was less annoyed than before.

you grinned, following him out, because even if he wouldn’t say it out loud, you knew he cared.

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x you #blue lock fluff #bllk fluff #rin itoshi x reader #rin x reader #rin itoshi x you #rin itoshi x y/n

218 notes · View notes

heliosunny · 14 hours ago

Note

Omg your writings are so scrumptiously delicious 😋 I always come back to read them again And again especially the phainon ones! Agh they are soo good! Also been wondering since you wrote Yan! Phainon× vamp! reader... how about Yan! vamp!phainon×reader..if that's okay... Have a great day/evening/night!

Yandere!Vampire Phainon x Reader

[artist]

The sun dipped low over the village, casting golden light across the cobbled streets. Laughter echoed between stone walls as a group of children ran through the narrow alleys, their feet kicking up dust. You were among them, breathless and grinning, trying to keep up with the boy ahead of you.

“You’re too slow, Y/N!” Phainon teased, turning back with a wide grin. His silver-white hair gleamed under the fading light, and his bright blue eyes sparkled with mischief.

“I’m not slow! You’re just unfairly fast!” you huffed, trying to catch him.

Phainon only laughed, effortlessly dodging your outstretched hands. Behind you, the others—Mydei, Anaxa, and a handful of others called out, egging you both on.

“Give Y/N a chance, Phainon!” one of them yelled.

“Yeah, don’t be mean.” Anaxa added, though his voice was laced with amusement.

Phainon slowed just enough for you to reach him, letting you tug on the sleeve of his tunic. “Caught you!” you declared triumphantly.

Instead of pulling away, Phainon tilted his head, smiling. “Guess that means I belong to you now” he said lightly.

“You’re weird.” you muttered, but you didn’t let go of his sleeve.

The warmth of the evening settled over you all as you made your way to the village outskirts. Beyond the fields, a small grove of trees offered a quiet retreat from the watchful eyes of adults. It was your group’s favorite place, a hidden world where you could be anything you wanted.

Mydei flopped onto the grass with a dramatic sigh. “I’m tired. Someone should carry me home.”

“You have legs” Anaxa scoffed, sitting down beside him. “Use them.”

You chuckled and sat next to Phainon, who stretched out lazily. The golden hour made his pale skin glow, and for a moment, he seemed almost otherworldly. You’d always thought he looked a little different, but then again, all of them did. The village women sometimes whispered about it, about their unnaturally striking features, their strange presence—but you never paid much attention. They were your friends. That was all that mattered.

Phainon leaned close, resting his chin on his palm as he watched you. “You’re staring” he teased.

You blinked, startled. “I was not.”

“You were” he insisted, grinning. “Do I look that handsome to you?”

“You’re annoying” you muttered, lightly shoving his shoulder.

He only laughed.

The conversation shifted to plans for tomorrow, with Mydei complaining about chores and Anaxa suggesting another race through the village. You listened, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that Phainon’s eyes were still on you.

You didn’t know then that Phainon had already decided.

Years Later

The group was no longer whole.

Time had worn down the bonds of childhood, and the innocence of those golden days had long since faded. Some had drifted apart, others had changed in ways you could barely recognize. The carefree days of running through the village had been replaced with whispers in the dark—secrets you weren’t privy to.

And yet, Phainon remained.

“You’re quiet tonight” he remarked, setting down a goblet as he leaned back in his chair.

You looked up from your seat across from him, the dim candlelight flickering between you. “Just thinking.”

Phainon studied you, his blue eyes sharp despite his ever-present smile. “About what?”

You hesitated. Should you say it? That you had noticed the strange way the others carried themselves, the way they whispered behind closed doors? That some of them had started keeping odd company—company that left them with faint red marks on their throats?

That the people you once knew felt like strangers?

Instead, you sighed. “I don’t know. Things just feel… different.”

Phainon tapped his fingers against the table. “People change” he said simply. “But I haven’t, have I?”

You glanced at him. No—Phainon hadn’t changed. He was still the same bright, teasing boy from your childhood. Always smiling, always close.

“You haven’t” you admitted, but the words felt strange on your tongue.

Phainon tilted his head, his gaze unreadable. Then, he smiled.

Outside, the night stretched on, and somewhere in the darkness, something shifted.

Something you weren’t meant to see.

The place was hidden, tucked away in the shadows of the city’s underbelly. It wasn’t a tavern, nor a brothel, but something worse—a gathering ground for those who lurked in the dark, where morality had long been forgotten.

Phainon moved through the dimly lit corridors like a specter, his presence drawing wary glances. They knew him here. Knew his name, his strength. Even among vampires, he was a force to be feared.

A low murmur caught his ear.

In the far corner, a vampire, one who owed him a great deal, had cornered a trembling girl. Her breath hitched as the man leaned in, fingers curling around her throat.

Phainon barely spared them a glance.

It wasn’t his problem. It wasn’t his concern. The weak suffered, the strong took what they wanted. That was the way of things.

He stepped forward to leave. And then, without warning, the image shifted. For a brief, horrifying second, it wasn’t some nameless girl in that man’s grip. It was you.

His body went rigid.

Would he still walk away? Would he still ignore it?

The thought sent something ugly curling in his chest.

A slow inhale. A measured exhale. He forced his body to relax. It wasn’t you. It would never be you. You weren’t meant for places like this.

Still, the unease lingered.

With a final glance at the struggling girl, Phainon turned and walked away, the thirst in his throat demanding attention. He needed something to quiet his thoughts, someone to satisfy his hunger.

As he stepped deeper into the night, a realization settled within him.

If it had been you, if anyone had dared to touch you, he wouldn’t have hesitated.

The morning sun filtered through the trees as you went about your daily routine. It was rare, almost strange, not to have Phainon lingering nearby, flashing that easy smile of his or teasing you about something trivial.

Maybe he was busy.

It wasn’t unusual for him to disappear at times, though he always returned like nothing had happened. You never asked where he went, and he never told you.

Today, the village was as lively as ever. You made your way through the familiar paths, exchanging greetings with the townsfolk and stopping briefly to chat with Anaxa, who seemed preoccupied with something.

“You seen Phainon?” you asked casually.

Anaxa snorted. “No, and I don’t plan on looking for him either.”

You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he muttered, crossing his arms. “Just… sometimes, it’s better not to know where he goes.”

The words sat uneasily with you, but before you could press further, someone called your name from across the street.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of small errands, idle conversations, and the comforting normalcy of routine. Yet, beneath it all, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing.

By the time evening rolled around, the absence felt heavier.

Phainon always found you before the day ended. Always.

So why wasn’t he here?

The next morning, Phainon appeared as if he had never been gone.

He leaned against the doorway of your home, arms crossed, a lazy grin on his face. “Miss me?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small, relieved breath you let out. “You wish.”

He only chuckled, falling into step beside you as if no time had passed. And just like that, things returned to normal. You didn’t ask where he had been, and he didn’t offer an explanation. That was how it always was.

That evening, your mother handed you a small parcel wrapped in cloth. “Take this to your grandmother, will you? But be careful, don’t linger too long. It’ll be dark soon.”

You reassured her with a smile before setting off. The road was familiar, winding through the outskirts of the village, lined with tall trees that cast long shadows as the sun dipped below the horizon.

By the time you started heading back, the last traces of daylight had faded. The path home felt different at night—quieter, colder. The wind whispered through the trees, and somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted.

Then, the silence broke.

A rustle.

You stopped, heart thudding in your chest. The trees swayed, their branches casting twisted shadows across the path. It was probably just an animal.

Then you heard it—breathing.

Before you could turn, something slammed into you, knocking you to the ground. A weight pinned you down, cold fingers gripping your shoulders.

“Smells good...” a voice rasped above you.

Your breath caught as you looked up, meeting the hungry, gleaming eyes of a man. No—a vampire. His lips curled, revealing sharp fangs.

“Let go of me!” You struggled, panic surging through your veins.

He chuckled, amused by your resistance. “I haven’t fed in days. Just a little taste—”

Then, in an instant, he was gone- ripped away.

The weight lifted, and before you could process what had happened, a sickening crack echoed through the air. A strangled cry followed, cut short as something heavy hit the ground.

Shaken, you pushed yourself up.

And then you saw Phainon who stood a few feet away, his back turned to you. At his feet, the vampire lay crumpled, twitching weakly. One of his arms bent at an unnatural angle.

“You picked the wrong person” Phainon murmured.

The injured vampire let out a choked whimper. “I— I didn’t know—”

“You didn’t know?” Phainon repeated, tilting his head. “Didn’t know they were mine?”

“Please—”

Phainon sighed. Then, without hesitation, he stepped forward and crushed the man’s throat beneath his heel.

Your heart pounded as you watched him. He turned to you, his usual warmth still present—but now laced with something darker.

“You’re trembling” he said softly, stepping closer.

You couldn’t move.

Then, ever so gently, he reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair from your face.

“You should be more careful, Y/N.”

His fingers lingered.

“I’d hate to lose you.”

Your vision blurred. Your breath came in shallow gasps, but it wasn’t enough—your chest tightened, the world tilting as cold sweat slicked your skin.

Phainon. The vampire’s broken body. The blood pooling beneath him.

“Ah—” Phainon exhaled, amused yet concerned. “I suppose that was a bit much for you.”

The last thing you saw before the darkness swallowed you whole was the serene, almost affectionate smile on his face.

You stirred, eyes fluttering open. You weren’t outside anymore. Dim candlelight flickered against wooden walls—your room.

“You’re awake” Phainon murmured.

He was sitting at your bedside, one arm draped lazily over the chair, watching you with a quiet intensity.

Your body tensed. The memory rushed back all at once—the attack, the vampire, the way Phainon had crushed his throat like it was nothing.

Your fingers clenched the sheets. “You—”

“I carried you home”

Silence stretched between you.

“I took care of it. No one will ever touch you again.”

“You… killed him.”

Phainon didn’t flinch. If anything, he seemed almost puzzled by your reaction. “Of course.”

The boy you had grown up with, the one who had laughed with you, teased you, stayed by your side—had crushed a man’s throat without hesitation.

Phainon leaned closer, reaching out slowly, as if not to startle you. His fingers brushed your wrist, light and careful. “You’re safe with me” he murmured.

Days passed.

Phainon left you alone, giving you space to recover, though he never strayed too far. You could feel his presence even when he wasn’t visible—watching, waiting.

But the fear that had once taken root inside you began to shift.

Curiosity gnawed at your thoughts.

Where did he go at night? What kind of life did he lead beyond the smile he showed you?

And more importantly—how much had he hidden from you?

So, when the sun dipped below the horizon, you made your choice.

You pulled on a cloak, wrapping it tightly around yourself before slipping into the night.

Phainon was easy to track. He moved with a confidence that came from knowing no one could touch him, his form barely more than a whisper in the darkness.

You followed carefully, staying just out of sight.

The path led away from the village, past old roads and tangled trees, into the underbelly of a world you had never seen before.

And then—you found it. The Hidden Den.

The place was alive with a dark, pulsing energy. Torches flickered against stone walls, casting long shadows over the twisted gathering.

Vampires lounged on crimson-draped couches, fangs sinking into willing throats as girls draped themselves over their laps. Others inhaled thick, perfumed smoke from ornate pipes, their pupils blown wide with pleasure.

On one side, blood was being poured into goblets like fine wine, passed between hands in hushed trades. In another corner, a vampire licked fresh crimson from his fingers while a dazed-looking woman trembled beside him, her pulse sluggish.

This was what he was part of?

A sick fascination mingled with your horror. You wanted to turn away—but you couldn’t.

A presence loomed behind you.

Before you could react, a hand gripped your shoulder and yanked you back into the shadows. Your back hit a cold wall. A figure loomed over you, silver hair catching the dim light.

Phainon.

But this wasn’t the version of him you knew.

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to wander where you don’t belong?”

You looked up at Phainon, at the way the dim torchlight cast shadows over his face—sharpening his features, making him seem even more untouchable. His grip on your shoulder was firm, grounding.

But you weren’t afraid.

You were angry.

"Is this what you're into?" you demanded, voice sharp, cutting through the low hum of sinful indulgence around you. "Is this the kind of place you belong to?"

Phainon's expression didn’t waver, but his fingers twitched slightly against your shoulder.

You continued, ignoring the cold air brushing against your skin. "I don’t want you here. You’re better than this."

His lips parted slightly in surprise. Then, amusement flickered in his gaze. "Better than this?" he echoed. "And what makes you think that?"

"Because I know you" you said without hesitation.

A moment of silence stretched between you, taut with unspoken things. Then Phainon exhaled softly, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe you. His grip finally loosened, but he didn’t step away. Instead, his eyes drifted downward—toward your exposed wrist, where your pulse beat strong beneath your skin.

"You followed me all this way" he murmured. "Was it just to scold me?"

You hesitated for only a second before speaking.

"If you’re that thirsty, drink from me instead."

Phainon blinked.

And then he laughed.

"You’re unbelievable." he said, voice hushed.

But he didn’t refuse.

Phainon leaned in slowly, watching you carefully, as if waiting for hesitation. But you didn’t flinch. His fingers brushed against your wrist, tilting it slightly. His lips ghosted over your skin.

And then—

A sharp sting, followed by warmth.

Your breath caught as his fangs pierced your skin, precise and careful. It wasn’t painful, not really. A strange, tingling sensation spread through you, your body growing light, unsteady.

Phainon made a quiet sound against your skin, like a sigh of relief, like he had been waiting for this. His grip was gentle, his touch reverent. And just as quickly as it started, it was over.

He pulled back, licking the last drops of crimson from his lips. "You taste too good for your own good" he murmured, almost to himself.

You barely heard him.

Because suddenly, the heavy perfume in the air—the scent of blood, of incense, of whatever drugged haze lingered in this place crashed down on you all at once.

Your knees buckled.

Phainon's arms were around you before you could hit the ground.

"Ah," he breathed, catching you easily. "Didn’t think that one through, did you?"

Your body felt weightless as he lifted you effortlessly into his arms.

By the time you woke, you were home.

The scent of that place was gone, replaced by the familiar warmth of your own room. Your body felt drained, sluggish, but safe.

And sitting beside you, as if he had never left, was Phainon.

"You’re reckless," he murmured, breaking the silence. "But I like that about you."

His fingers brushed against your wrist again, where his mark remained.

"You should rest," he said softly. "I’ll be here when you wake up."

And for some reason, despite everything—you believed him.

You barely remembered falling asleep.

After Phainon carried you home from that wretched place, exhaustion claimed you faster than you could think. Your body was too weak, too drained from everything that happened.

But when you woke up—something was wrong.

A hand clamped over your mouth before you could make a sound.

Your eyes shot open, heart slamming against your ribs. The room was dark, but you could make out a figure looming over you—a vampire, his breath heavy with the scent of old blood.

"You shouldn’t have been there, little thing." the man sneered.

The one who owed Phainon saw what you both did. So he thought he could take advantage of the situation.

Panic surged through you. You struggled, but his grip tightened.

"You cost me" he hissed, voice low and venomous. "But don’t worry. You’ll be useful in another way."

He yanked you up from your bed, arms locking around you like iron.

The moment Phainon stepped into your house, he knew something was wrong. The air reeked of an unfamiliar scent—bitter, old blood mixed with the distinct stench of someone who didn’t belong.

Your room was a mess. The blankets were thrown aside, your belongings knocked over, and worst of all—

You were gone.

Phainon’s entire expression darkened.

The scent was fresh. They couldn’t have gone far.

His fingers twitched, sharp nails lengthening slightly as he inhaled deeply, locking onto the trail like a predator.

He found you in an abandoned alley, pressed against the cold stone as the vampire loomed over you, fangs bared.

"Don’t struggle" the man sneered. "I just need a little taste—"

Crack.

The vampire was on the ground before he could register what happened, Phainon’s boot pressing down against his throat.

The man choked, clawing at Phainon’s leg, but the weight didn’t budge.

"You made a mistake" Phainon murmured, voice eerily calm.

His foot pressed down harder. The vampire’s struggles weakened.

"Phainon" you rasped, voice hoarse, barely able to move.

That was the only thing that stopped him.

Phainon’s gaze flicked toward you. His eyes softened—just a fraction.

With one last sharp glare at the trembling man beneath him, Phainon finally stepped back.

The vampire gasped, wheezing as he scrambled away.

Phainon didn’t bother watching him flee.

He was already kneeling beside you, fingers brushing over your face, checking for injuries.

"Tch." His voice was light, but you could hear the underlying tension. "I leave you alone for one moment, and this is what happens?"

"Not my fault."

A chuckle. "I guess not."

And before you could protest, he scooped you up again, cradling you against his chest.

Phainon’s home was nothing like yours.

The moment he brought you inside, he didn’t let you out of his sight. You were still rattled, too exhausted to argue as he led you to a bath, forcing you to sit and soak in the warm water while he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed.

"You don’t have to watch me" you muttered, sinking into the heat.

"I do" he replied smoothly.

You scowled but didn’t push further.

After you finished, you dressed in the spare clothes he handed you, soft and unfamiliar, but comfortable.

But even then, something was off.

Phainon’s expression was unreadable as he stood in front of you, arms still crossed, eyes sharp.

"What?" you asked, frowning.

He exhaled, then leaned in slightly, inhaling.

Your entire body tensed.

"That scent" he murmured.

It took you a second to realize what he meant.

Even after bathing, the vampire’s scent still clung to you.

Phainon didn’t like that.

You barely had time to react before Phainon closed the distance between you.

One hand reached for your wrist, the other sliding up to your jaw, tilting your face toward him.

"Phainon—?"

"You smell like him," he said, almost absentmindedly. "I hate it."

Your breath hitched as he leaned in further, his nose brushing lightly against the side of your neck.

A slow inhale.

"Phainon—!"

His hands slid down, trailing over your shoulders, gripping your arms just enough to keep you still. He wasn’t rough—no, his touch was slow, intentional.

"You don’t want to reek of someone else, do you?" he murmured against your skin. "Let me fix it."

His lips brushed over the curve of your throat, not quite kissing, not quite biting—just enough to make your pulse spike.

"Stop squirming" he chuckled when you shifted, his voice warm, teasing. "You wanted me to drink from you before. Did you change your mind?"

"That’s not—this is different—!"

Phainon hummed, a soft, knowing sound. "Not really."

His arms wrapped around you fully, pulling you flush against him, his warmth seeping into your skin.

This wasn’t about feeding.

This was about marking.

"Better" Phainon murmured, finally leaning back to meet your gaze. His blue eyes gleamed, satisfied.

"You smell like me now."

#yandere x reader #yandere #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x you #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr x reader #phainon x reader #phainon honkai star rail #hsr phainon #phainon hsr #phainon

166 notes · View notes

sorryimananti-romantic · 21 hours ago

Text

The Leaders | Chapter IV

"this is the underworld that no one escapes from."

masterlist

ot8!ateez x f!reader, mafia au

chapter warnings: drinking, illegal businesses, mentions of violence, war/military and weapons, almost car accident, maknaes are finally introduced! wholesome interactions with the maknaes, hongjoong is the unintentional tease, yunho is the intentional tease, yeosang is the oblivious tease.

chapter wc: 12k

chapter synopsis: you accompany hongjoong to the station and meet inspector gong in regards to a drug case. you plant baits and grab lunch at the bar with hongjoong. hongjoong convinces you to become his secretary with words of affirmation. you finally go to meet the rest of the crescents at the warehouse but a sudden attack makes you wonder if you’re worth all the trouble you’ll bring the crescents, though yunho is there to make you feel better.

prev chapter recap: yunho verifies with kihyun that secretary park is not the man for their new deal. hongjoong notices how secretary park is not surprised to hear that they are aware of his dealings with foreigners– with strictland. he makes the connection and realises that you are the illegitimate daughter of secretary park. no longer having to hide your identity, you candidly discuss with yunho about the strictland nuclear base and who might be involved if it’s presumably inactive status is a lie. you start to handle the illegal side of the business as well and one night, save yunho from an attack which ends up shifting your relationship with him. he overwhelms and confuses you with his casual manner and you go find solace in yeosang’s office (and arms).

With Jihoon away on business at the Sector 1 port, accompanying Seonghwa to oversee the illegal departure of Black Shadow to Mist Island, the midday slot was packed with just you and Eunha to take care of the reports and to deal with the aftermath of the police’s initial investigation after receiving a false tip about drug dealing. You confirmed that the Crescents were not involved but the damage has been done. Apparently, some inspectors had always been on the Crescent’s tail, ready to catch them in the act, waiting for a chance to see the Crescent’s slip. While it was frustrating to hear that the police weren’t doing their job properly, your annoyance only magnified when you learned that they were demanding that one of the Crescents visit the station to clear things up.

Since Yunho was occupied at the port with Seonghwa, making sure the illegal shipment left Eden waters safe and unnoticed, that left Hongjoong in the office and San and Yeosang at the bar. Hongjoong decided that he needed to set the record straight with the police and decided to use this opportunity to shift their attention elsewhere. With a clear plan in his head, he exited his room and spotted you working alongside Eunha.

And when your gaze connected with his, you found him already pointing his finger in your direction.

“You. You’re coming with me.”

You frowned in confusion, pointing at yourself and he nodded in confirmation, ordering ‘downstairs in 2 minutes!’, before disappearing down the stairs, leaving you to process the command on your own.

“Just go– I’ll take care of this,” Eunha assured you and you took a deep breath, grabbed your net gloves and coat, and made your way downstairs. The boss was already at the door waiting with his umbrella– it was raining quite heavily outside. You picked your own from the stand by the doorway, hurriedly getting inside his car that was already at the front of the office– the latest Bentley model befitting the boss of the Crescent Company. Taeyong, Hongjoong’s bodyguard, was driving and he greeted the two of you.

“We’re going to the station, by the way,” Hongjoong told you when you got comfortable and you appreciated that he gave you a heads-up. “There’s still someone on our case and I have to talk to a certain inspector anyway. Might as well kill two birds with one stone.”

“Right. Are you sure you have to go personally?” You asked. “I mean… if it’s not necessary someone else could go in your stead?”

“Inspector Gong only seems to listen to me,” Hongjoong scoffed, looking outside at the pattering rain. There seemed to be an old connection with the inspector, but then again, the Crescents probably knew every single person who lived at least in Sector 1. Your brows quirked at the familiar name. Where had you heard it?

“I’m thinking I might point him towards General Wi,” Hongjoong continued, this time locking eyes with you. “If he starts investigating in that direction, it should eventually lead him to Secretary Park.”

“It’s quite easy to silence someone though– especially a cop. Their loyalty lies with money,” you reminded him. “I’ve seen officers give in to as little as 60 krodus.”

You had personally witnessed your brother Sunghoon bribe an officer who caught him smoking some drugs in a deserted alley. That was when you started to keep tabs on your brother, hoping to find his weakness. Instead, you found him handing that little amount with a pat to the officer. You tried to justify it– perhaps, the officer needed to buy a good meal for his children, but your respect for officers significantly declined afterwards.

“Not all of them,” Hongjoong smirked. “Inspector Gong’s morals seem to be his downfall.”

“Sounds like someone I know,” you shifted your focus to Hongjoong. “For the leader of a criminal organisation, you’re quite a man of morals yourself.”

Hongjoong considered that, his brow arching as he hummed in response. “What exactly did an Edenary citizen think Ateez was?”

“Not so organised, for starters,” you admitted and he shook his head in amusement. “More like a street gang?”

“We were once a street gang,” Hongjoong confirmed. “Just like Kihyun’s gang. You’re very familiar with them– was it a surprise that we operate like them?”

“Well, I never got to hear much about their street gang period before they became a respectable organisation,” you replied. “I’ve always just known them to be owners of MX Pharmaceuticals. Crescent, however…”

“Let’s hear what’s on your mind,” Hongjoong urged you to continue when he noticed that you were restraining yourself from saying more. “Come on, I’ve been called worse than ‘a man with morals’.”

“Just never expected you to have some really strict ones, that’s all I’m saying,” you raised your hands in surrender. “It’s kind of admirable. And you’re also really misunderstood.”

“Or maybe you’ve only seen the good parts yet. Ever wonder about that?”

Well, you thought. That was one way to put it. You dared a look at the boss who was fiddling with his pocket watch– a golden little thing with an hourglass etched on its cover. He caught you staring at it and smiled.

“Do you want to know who gave me this watch?” Hongjoong asked and you blinked in surprise at the question– you both had rarely ever talked outside of work so this was new. You nodded in answer, genuinely wanting to hear the story behind this watch because it seemed to be a part of his personality.

“I was a part of Major General Wi’s squad during the war,” he said and a surprised ‘oh’ erupted from your mouth as your brain tried to connect the dots. “During the war, I had to let go of a lot of things to think like a true strategist. I had to consider every option and not let sentiments waver me. A lot of decisions that I made during that time cost us lives. I may have been honoured in the end because every decision I made was for the ‘greater good’, but if I was a man of morals, Luna, I would have done things a bit differently.”

For a few moments, you let the familiar pitter-patter of the rain fill the silence of the car following Hongjoong’s admission. You recalled what Kihyun had said about Ateez. Children of war. They had to let their innocence go when they got drafted due to the ‘over-17’ law that ensured all capable individuals over the age of 17 served in the war. They were only teenagers when they went to the war, to fight for their land, but when they returned…

“Is that why you keep your watch with you?” You finally asked. “To remind yourself that you’re not all that moral?”

“Kind of,” Hongjoong shrugged nonchalantly.

“I think it could also be a reminder that you are aware of the fact that you made those decisions. Do they keep you up at night?”

“Often,” he admitted with a slow but sure nod. There was no shame in admitting that the horrors of war kept you up at night when everyone had experienced the same.

“That’s a good sign,” you told him. “Because some of the elites who controlled the tides of war at the backend, who are the real reason Eden lost so many lives… they sleep like babies at night. They carry no remorse or guilt. And my moral compass says that those kinds of humans are no different than animals.”

The boss nodded slowly. He knew that it was true but hearing those words from you somehow left a warm, tingling sensation through his chest.

You noticed how he zoned out and let him be until you spotted the station. “We’re here,” you gently said, bringing him out of his trance. He nodded, dropping the watch back inside his pocket and Taeyong stopped the car, opening the door for Hongjoong. It wasn’t raining as hard now, just a light shower so you both didn’t bother to open the umbrella, though Hongjoong took his inside, hand covering the gold eagle hilt.

You stayed right by his side as you navigated through the musky smelling corridors of the station. It looked like everyone recognised Hongjoong. They either stepped aside and merged with the shadows, essentially clearing the path for him, or scrambled forward to greet him over-enthusiastically. You pursed your lips in amusement– it was clear what sort of relationship he had with each officer.

One of the officers saluted military-style and Hongjoong saluted back. He led you to what you assumed was Inspector Gong’s office and you seated yourselves on the chairs in the small, haphazard room.

“The Inspector will be here shortly. Would you like a drink in the meanwhile, Colonel? Coffee or tea?”

“I’m good, thank you,” Hongjoong said and you shook your head in answer as well. He waited until the officer left before saying, “Their coffee has to be the most stale beverage I’ve ever had the misfortune of trying.”

You half-smiled. “Can’t expect much from a station that looks like this,” you pointed at the peeling paint on the walls and the rough furniture in the room, if you could look past the initial shock of all the disorganization of the reports, boxes and documents. “Was that someone you knew from the military?”

“No,” Hongjoong said. “But he probably recognises me.”

“And the people who recognised you but scurried away like rats?”

“They recognise me better,” Hongjoong smirked and you smiled in resignation.

A few moments later, a middle-aged man with a pile of folders managed to get inside the room without help and set the pile on the desk with a thud, grunting in exhaustion. He ran a hand through his wavy dark hair and muttered something about how it had been awfully busy lately before brushing his simple, creased clothes and straightening.

“I see you made it here.” He cast a wary glance at Hongjoong.

“Better than you coming at mine and poking at everything, trying to find a snark,” Hongjoong mocked and you would have found it amusing had you not been staring at the inspector, finding him oddly familiar. He scanned you slowly and his brows wrinkled.

“I’m sorry, have we met before?”

“I don’t think so?” You weren’t sure.

“She’s my new secretary,” Hongjoong said, glancing at you for a second before turning his attention to the inspector. “Now… what’s this new mess your cops have involved us in?”

“Oh, the drug dealing,” Inspector Gong finally took a seat. “You don’t have to worry about it too much. I found another lead just now so you’re off the hook.”

Hongjoong grunted in annoyance. “Should’ve sent a message then.”

“Well, it’s nice to see you were so eager to clear your name for once,” Inspector Gong said curtly. “We don’t want it to affect your new deal, after all.”

“Whatever might you be talking about?” Hongjoong feigned ignorance but the way the two were smiling at each other, you were sure the communication didn’t need words.

“Who knows? Anyways, I heard you have something interesting for me, which is new. Let’s hear it.”

“Maybe I just came here so I could see you,” the boss teased and Inspector Gong’s smile fell– he was beginning to get tired now. You stifled a smile at your boss’ antics. “Alright, I’ll tell you. You might want to send your leads regarding the drug case to the Edenary Station. And while you’re at it, you might want to take a look at what Park Pharmaceuticals have been up to lately.”

“Park Pharmaceuticals? Park Byung Eun, isn’t that the President's secretary?”

“That’s right,” Hongjoong confirmed. “I heard the drug that you found recently is something new. It’s not uncommon to look into every pharmaceutical company, isn’t that so? Our company, MX, we’re only distributors for now, so you should be looking into companies that actually manufacture.”

“I’m sure someone acquainted with the president won’t have his people using drugs illegally,” Inspector Gong said. “Or he might not be aware that it’s happening. It’s a big company and he can’t have everything under control.”

“Maybe you just need to focus on the source of the drug rather than look for consumers or distributors,” you quipped. Inspector Gong looked at you with curiosity.

“And what’s your name, Miss?”

“Jeon y/n,” you said. “Also, while you investigate… maybe check if some of Assemblyman General Wi’s men have been consuming those drugs. I’m not saying he’s at fault, but like you said earlier, they are a big gang in Edenary and it’s not uncommon for gang members to deal drugs. Right?” You looked at Hongjoong who was stifling a smile. He nodded subtly in your direction.

Inspector Gong watched you two with interest. “Okay. If you insist. Though you might be trying to throw me off the scent.”

“I never said you didn’t have to keep looking into us,” Hongjoong raised his hands in surrender. “But maybe… broaden your horizons a bit.”

With that, Hongjoong got up and you followed. As soon as you both settled in the car, Hongjoong snickered at you. You raised a brow in question.

“Good job there. I can see why the boys have taken a liking to you.”

You couldn’t keep your cheeks from flushing at the remark. You shrugged in answer. “Has he always been stationed here?”

“He was demoted from the Edenary Station a few years ago, actually,” Hongjoong said. “Do you recognise him?”

“I’m not sure. I can’t recall,” you admitted and he nodded. “Do you think he will find something out of this wild goose chase?”

“Definitely. All he needs is a whiff– he’s a hound,” Hongjoong shook his head. “Once he gets a scent of something, he won’t let go until he’s satisfied.”

“Sounds like a person you should keep close,” you commented and Hongjoong agreed.

“Your shift is over, right? Did you have lunch yet?” Hongjoong asked and you shook your head no. “I’m going to the bar– I have a few things to discuss with Yeosang and San. You can stay and have lunch with us, if you would like.”

Have lunch with the boss?

“If you’re going to be our new secretary,” Hongjoong teased– a little joke Seonghwa had a habit of making that you should be Hongjoong’s personal secretary, “You should get used to travelling around with me.”

“You can’t seriously be considering that,” you gave him a wan smile. Hongjoong only grinned in answer, taking that as a yes.

The ride to the bar had you sorting out everything you had learned today. Hongjoong’s connection with Assemblyman General Wi was interesting, especially considering that Hongjoong served under him during the war. Inspector Gong’s familiar face and the fact that he was an Edenary citizen was also something you couldn’t simply dismiss.

Before you knew it, the short trip was over and you were outside the bar. Now that the sky was clearing, Hongjoong clicked a button on his umbrella to extract a cane from it before getting out of the car. You had seen the cane on him sometimes, a beautiful black thing with a golden eagle hilt. You were half sure it was also some sort of a weapon.

Upon entering, the employees greeted their boss and lit up at the sight of you, their old coworker. You greeted them back with equal enthusiasm, taking their jokes and teasing jabs because you with the boss!? Hongjoong went straight to Yeosang’s office and you followed behind him, shutting the door while the men shared a brief hug.

Yeosang was surprised to see you two together. “How come?”

“Thought I’d take our little bookkeeper around and show her how things work around here,” Hongjoong said, taking off his coat and hanging it on the stand. You did the same, feeling a bit awkward due to Hongjoong’s presence– it had always been you and Yeosang, or San.

And well… after your little moment with Yeosang that drunken night, it was your first time seeing him. Now in a deep brown sweater with the sleeves rolled to bare his muscular forearms, his expectant gaze as he looked at you, tendrils of brown hair falling over his face– it wasn’t helping you at all.

Yes. You definitely needed a break.

Yeosang nodded at you in acknowledgement, failing to contain his smile– he was bad at hiding his emotions and Hongjoong just knew that he was pleased to see you here. You took a seat next to Hongjoong in front of the desk.

“So, Luna,” Yeosang started. “How has it been so far? Want to come back to your previous post?”

“Sounds tempting because your boss thinks I can handle more workload,” you pointed at Hongjoong with your thumb and he shook his head.

“Ay, don’t be like that now. I’m keeping her, Yeosang. She knows what she’s doing and I like that.”

You accepted your fate with a dejected sigh and the two shared a laugh. The boys recollected the events since the last time they met while they waited for San to arrive. You noticed how they shared even the trivial things–

“I ate lunch at BB Trippin’ yesterday. You have to try their ramen– I swear I haven’t had such a ramen in ages.”

“Seonghwa and I lost a bet to Yunho and we now owe him 5 krodus. That lucky bastard always wins.”

With the waiter’s call indicating San’s arrival, you shifted to Room no. 1 where San was making sure there was enough food and drinks and at the sight of his boss, he lit up, coming forward to hug him briefly.

And then he saw you and lit up even more, making you laugh a bit. You settled down on the very chair you had sat when Seonghwa had passed his judgement on you– only a few weeks had passed since then but a lot had changed. San’s presence, however, still comforted you just as much as it did before.

As did Yeosang’s, but… it held a weird note today.

While you ate lunch and caught up with each other, Yeosang, who was sitting next to you, nudged you with his elbow and you glared at him, the warning in it melting when you saw the apples of his cheek become more prominent as he tried to stifle a smile. “So… how have you been?”

“I’m right in front of you, Yeosang,” you said as casually as you could. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Missed me?”

“Hmm… not really, no,” you responded, putting a spoonful of rice in your mouth as he smirked. “I’ve been far too busy to think of you.”

“So you do think about me,” he teased.

“It would be unnatural to not think of you,” you feigned normalcy again but Yeosang wasn’t having any of it.

“Say, when do I get the tipsy Luna back? I don’t think I’m a fan of the sober Luna…”

“Tipsy Luna is on leave,” you said. “You can forget her.”

“You don’t mean that, do you?” Yeosang’s voice was low this time and you looked at him, finding caution and hurt– was it hurt? In his eyes.

“Of course not,” you frowned. “Did you miss me that much?”

He relaxed. “I thought I made a mistake.”

“Oh,” you paused, making sure Hongjoong and San weren’t listening. Oh.

He thought he did something wrong and you were avoiding him.

“Yeosang, I–”

“Isn’t that right, Luna?” Hongjoong called your name, grabbing your attention and you passed Yeosang a look that you hoped conveyed ‘we’ll talk later’ before you turned your attention to the boss.

“I was just saying how it was a good idea to take you along at the station,” Hongjoong repeated, glancing between you and Yeosang. “Inspector Gong seems to have taken the bait.”

“Ah, yes,” you nodded, straightening. “I think we might have to make sure he catches some of General Wi’s men with the drugs that are under investigation. And we might have to somehow create a link between those drugs and the drugs registered under Park Pharmaceuticals. After that, the boat will float itself.”

“I’ll have Wooyoung take care of that,” San said. “He knows a lot of street druggies. They’re on his beck and call.”

The man in charge of the manufacturing side of the business along with the youngest of the Crescents– Mingi and Jongho. Yeosang and San often talked about Wooyoung. He was Yeosang’s friend from before they went to the war. While you hadn’t had a chance for personal interactions with the younger ones, they often came at the bar as a group. They knew who you were, called you Luna just like everyone else and would strike up some work-related conversation with you if they weren’t teasing or flirting with you, which seemed to be second-nature to them.

“Does Wooyoung’s street druggies network extend to Edenary?” You asked, an idea nagging at you– an old memory you couldn’t let go of.

San hummed in thought. “Probably?”

“What are you thinking?” Yeosang narrowed his eyes and you looked at Hongjoong who was anticipating your answer.

“Park Sunghoon, my brother, was an addict. My father went through hell and back to get him to stop, but chances are he’s still addicted but just learned to look, well, normal.”

Hongjoong looked at Yeosang triumphantly. “There’s a reason I’m keeping her close.”

Yeosang looked a little proud to hear that and he asked you, “Do you know which drugs exactly was he consuming? Or some details?”

“It was a street dealer, that’s all I caught,” you told him. “Bad company, apparently. Last time I saw him, he appeared more polished than before, but I recognise the look in his eyes when he’s high.”

They didn’t miss your sombre tone, neither did they miss the sudden fiddling of your fingers. However, they decided not to comment on it– for now. It was Hongjoong who cleared his throat. “It’s ironic that the heir to Park Pharmaceuticals is a drug addict himself. I’ll get someone to look into it. Inspector Gong would have a field day once he learns about this.”

You passed a weak smile, willing yourself to not recall your brother’s bad behaviour whenever he was high. Sure, he was your half-brother, but he wanted nothing to do with you. Sometimes you wondered if he was the one who pegged your father to change your surname and wipe you off the family registers. It wouldn’t be a surprise if that was the case.

You all finished your lunch, planning a bit more on how to lead Inspector Gong to Sunghoon before you decided to leave first. You told Yeosang you would grab your coat from his office and leave but he decided to see you off– for obvious reasons.

Once inside his office, you found him watching you with folded arms. You wore your black coat over your clothes, huffing at him.

“Did I do or say something wrong that night?” Yeosang asked.

“No. Why would you think that?”

“You look like you’re avoiding me.”

“I’m not,” your gaze softened. “I’m just… I don’t know, Yeosang. I’m confused, if you can’t tell. I don’t know what I’m looking for, and the fact that you’re worried about what I think about you isn’t helping.”

Yeosang licked his lips, trying to come up with a response to that. He was perhaps as confused as you. Had you both inevitably blurred the lines of who you were? While you worked together, you would dismiss such interactions, but now that you stopped working here, who exactly were you to Yeosang? What was your relationship? You had been boss and employee all this time. Friends, perhaps, but never called it so. And now…

You stepped forward, placing your hand on his bare folded arms for assurance. You wished you had placed it on his heart instead. “You’re still who you are to me and more.”

“Who am I to you?” Yeosang asked, a faint smile on his lips.

“Hmm… favourite boss?” You grinned. “Friend?”

Yeosang nodded. “That’s it?”

“More?” You raised a brow. “I mean… what exactly did you do that would warrant more?”

“Is that a challenge, Luna?” He was smirking now and your heart did a little flip-flop at the way the timbre of his voice shifted.

“Maybe… pretty boy,” you flicked his chest, unable to resist and with a giggle, sneaked past him outside, saying a goodbye before you disappeared, because you were positive that you were worse when sober.

You did look back once, finding Yeosang laughing wholeheartedly at your passing figure and you ingrained the sight in the deepest crevice of your heart.

Kim Hongjoong may be a man of few words, but god, was he a man capable of making decisions on the spot and taking swift action. It was no wonder that he was the man who had built his empire of this scale in such a short period of time. All it took was one meeting about the discrepancies in the import cost of the metal in the Utopian trade, and Hongjoong immediately decided to cut down on the amount of metal, using his connections to cover the shortage of metal with local suppliers and saving a couple thousand krodus in the process.

Apparently, there were other gangs that dealt with weapons production and supplied arms illegally around Eden. The Crescents were better off striking a deal with another gang who possessed the metal alloy they required, or something similar in nature to that metal. Hongjoong acknowledged your efforts for dealing with the matter smoothly.

That led to Seonghwa starting to include you in their meetings now, ‘preparing you’ for personal secretary work. You considered asking him if it was just an excuse to get information out of you (and who knows? maybe dispose of you later) but you figured it was a joke. They couldn’t be serious (right?) and you were doing a fine job as a bookkeeper anyway, providing your input since you were from Edenary and you knew a lot of people– and their weaknesses. They thought it was impressive that Secretary Park had rarely ever involved you in his business yet you had built your own connections and learnt so much about the way Eden operated.

Since there were rumours going around that Secretary Park had been ‘rejected by a mafia gang’, it caught the attention of some investors who were willing to collaborate on a drug launch. Though you still had little to no idea about the drug specifically, the Crescents heard your opinion on the willing parties and you expressed your lack of trust in most of the politicians. That left a few businessmen and you supposed they could do with one of them– someone who was willing to fund properly. The Crescents would just have to make a promising offer.

That left finding out more about Secretary Park’s foreign dealings. You had suggested sending an anonymous tip to General Wi about Secretary Park’s possible connection to Strictland and Yunho got the job done a few days ago. As intended, General Wi traced the tip back to the Crescents and sent a message that he would like to have a meeting with the boss.

“He’s going to be curious about the source,” Hongjoong had a faint smirk on his lips as if calculating all the possibilities of how the world could shift from here. You shifted uncomfortably on the chair in front of him. Hongjoong was watching you with interest. “Do you think we should bring you along to the meeting?”

“General Wi likes to play a diplomat. He would tell my father that I was here once he finds out my connection with him, and then–”

“And then what?” Hongjoong challenged, resting his chin on his hand, elbow propped on his desk. With his other hand, he turned the hourglass, watching the sand trickle down slowly. “It’s only a matter of time that your father finds out that you’ve been talking. Chances are, he is already aware of your new post and will be trying to silence you soon. You should be making your stance clear too, Luna.”

“That would be a declaration of war to him,” you said.

“Have you not been told that you are under the protection of the Crescents from now on?” Hongjoong raised a brow in question. You nodded. “Then I don’t see the problem. Being under our protection entails that we will make sure you remain safe and unharmed.”

“You may have been a gang in the past, Mr. Kim,” you said in a low voice. “But my father also has various gangs at his disposal. Mr. Jeong almost got killed that night.”

“Oh, you’re underestimating him if you think it’s that easy to kill him,” Hongjoong scoffed. “He’s avoided death far too many times to be simply called lucky now.”

You shrugged– that might be true but that did not help you feel any better.

“We are part of the underworld and always will be, y/n, no matter how posh we try to appear,” Hongjoong began. “We are the leaders of the underworld– the underworld that no one escapes from. Secretary Park has always operated from above and he does not know how we play. He may try to get to us with his little gangs or whatever, but he is a man of light.”

“And you are a man of the shadows,” you completed for him. He nodded. “If I join you at the meeting, Major General Wi will think that I am someone of importance– he might even recognise me.”

“Well, aren’t you?” He asked almost nonchalantly. You sighed– they sure had been taking you around everywhere and getting you more acquainted with the business, but was your role in the Crescents this important now?

“I meant to remain in the shadows, Mr. Kim. It was never my intention to step in the light for the world to see.”

“You said you wanted a better life,” Hongjoong locked eyes with you. “A way to avenge the life that was stolen from you because you were too helpless and could do nothing except be pushed wherever your father wanted.”

“Not only that,” you admitted. “My conscience does not allow me to know that my father may be doing something immoral and detrimental to this nation and do nothing about it. I have wasted far too many opportunities because I feared the consequences.”

“And now?”

“Now you’re telling me not to be afraid,” you rested your back on the chair in resignation. “Now you’re telling me to involve myself with you.”

“And what’s so bad about that?” Hongjoong’s smile revealed that he might be hiding something. You knew that– they were dangerous. It was better for you to be with them than to stand against them, but could you follow their journey without looking back? Could you swear loyalty to them?

“It was never your intention to step out in the light and fight for yourself, or for Eden, or for your conscience, but y/n… maybe you were meant to rule from the light and the shadows both.”

You looked at Hongjoong in surprise. He watched you with a certain fondness– his little bookkeeper, he still called you. You could understand why Jaemin and even some others referred to him as ‘the Captain’– he cared and accounted for each one of them. These men… they heard you. They did everything they had to to protect themselves and their family. And now…

Now Kim Hongjoong said that you were a part of their group, and he would have you rule from the light and back you from the shadows if you wished to.

“I’m just a bookkeeper though, aren’t I?” you said but couldn’t stop your lips from curling into a smile.

“Maybe I’ll start calling you my little secretary from now on. How does that sound?”

“Oh, no,” you shook your head. “The workload.”

Hongjoong burst out laughing and you looked down to hide your smile– he had such a carefree, almost childish laugh. You thought about his remark and figured that it must have been Seonghwa’s doing. You knew that Seonghwa was planning something and he had hinted this quite often but to actually be Mr. Kim’s secretary? Was he pulling your leg or was he serious?

“I’m serious,” he confirmed as if he saw right through you. “I need one especially now that I’m going to be stepping into the light too. I’ve operated from the shadows for long enough. Who better to have by my side than someone who knows how the underworld of the elites operate?”

“I’m not sure if I’m the right person,” you said. “I’m from Edenary, yes, and I do know how things work there, but I’ve never been much involved.”

“But so far… you’ve not betrayed our trust once, and that is something I value a lot, Luna. You prevented a disaster when you ran away with the content of Yeosang’s locker that night. You stopped a deal that would have ended very badly for us. And you put yourself in danger to save Yunho– I don’t know who else I would want by my side if not you.”

“That is a high compliment,” you took a deep breath, overwhelmed by his proposition.

“You’re still willing to do so much more,” Hongjoong said, outstretching his hand on the table and you were confused for a moment before you realised that he was waiting for you. You frowned– while Seonghwa had always been casual with his affection, much like a boss with a pat to the shoulder that he often gave to everyone else too, and Yunho had been, well, purposely making you jumpy you were sure, the boss had never done much. Every action of his was motivated by something.

And this might be his attempt at persuasion.

Hongjoong raised a brow as if to ask if you were going to keep making him wait and you rolled your eyes before hesitantly placing your hand in his palm. Hongjoong noticed the pause and almost smirked. His hand was cold but comforting when it held yours.

“You’re still willing to do so much more for Eden,” Hongjoong repeated. “I’m doing all I can for Eden too. We share the same goal, Luna. Don’t ever think that it is a shame that you couldn’t do anything about it earlier– you did everything in your power. You can leave it to me now. All you have to do is stay by our side.”

You must have looked half-convinced because he continued.

“I’m not saying you have to be the secretary yet– I would like you to fully know what it is that we do, and I would like the rest of the boys to meet you and hear their opinion too. I may be the boss but their word is equally as important as mine.”

“A captain, then?” You offered and he grinned.

“Yeosang did well choosing you,” Hongjoong said and your heart fluttered at the mention of him– the actions of that drunken night were keeping you awake in your sober ones. “San speaks highly of you. Yunho, well… I think his intentions are clear. And Seonghwa is the one who convinced me to look at you.”

You raised your brow at his wording– sometimes, the way they spoke with so much implication behind their words made you wonder just what was going on inside their heads. Especially Hongjoong– he knew what he was talking about but he always concealed his intentions carefully.

And you were going to make him more direct with his words. With a caress to his fingers, you locked eyes with him.

“Well… you’re looking at me now, Captain. Do you like what you see?”

For once, he was caught in surprise, his brow raising involuntarily and you grinned inwardly. There was nothing more satisfying than having the leader of this establishment speechless. The person you thought was a scary, stuck-up individual with his even scarier military rankings, turned out to be just a man with big dreams for his people and his land.

Hongjoong raised your joined hands in answer. You bowed your head mockingly.

What a turn of events.

When Seonghwa said that he would like you to accompany him to the warehouse so you could meet the rest of the Crescents officially as a potential secretary to Kim Hongjoong and, well, a ‘crucial unit’ of the Crescents, you didn’t think he would actually let you take a peek at the illegal– or the underworld side of the business.

It was just another dusky day in Sector 1, a bit livelier inside the office than usual during the midday slot. Johnny dropped by and while he waited for Yunho, he struck up a conversation with the three of you– more like recount the events of the night you were attacked at the bar and tell Eunha and Jihoon all about how you had looked like a lost mouse while running away with the content of Yeosang’s locker. He went as far to tell them how you looked even worse when you came out of the meeting room. If it weren’t for Yunho interrupting him, Johnny might have done a reenactment.

You were about to sign off for the day after lunch with Eunha and Jihoon when Seonghwa called you in his office and told you about his plans for the day. You agreed to accompany him to the warehouse, having no other prior engagements until your night shift. With Seonghwa’s bodyguard and assistant Yuta, the three of you took his Ford to the outskirts of Sector 1 near the Sector 8 border. It was only a few miles from the Sector 1 Port so the ride took about forty minutes.

It was surprising how comfortable Seonghwa made that ride for you. He talked about his family and told you that he had two siblings and that his family had moved to Utopia before the war began. His father was already a war veteran and an influential person so he had little to no trouble leaving to protect his family– however, since Seonghwa was of age, he had no choice but to get drafted. You asked him if he missed his family and visited them often but he told you it had been quite a while since he saw them and would like to pay a visit soon, once things settle down here a bit.

Somehow, you found yourself telling him about the time you spent in Wonderland, something you hadn’t really talked about ever since you came back. While the woman you looked after– Madame Cha, wasn’t your aunt by blood, she was someone really wise and with a lot of knowledge to share. You often wondered if your father was aware that Madame Cha would make sure that you learnt everything needed to survive in this sick world as an independent woman. She taught you various practical skills, kept you busy and kept your mind away from home. Perhaps, that was the purpose all along, but even if it was, you were still grateful to her.

Seonghwa asked you more about Wonderland, mentioning that he always wanted to visit the country. Wonder City, the capital, was known for its ruins. It was a place rich with history and the people had done a lot to preserve it. The lavender fields which were symbolic of Wonder City only added to its beauty. It had truly been a healing sight for eyes and you told him that you missed the evening walks through those fields the most.

The scenery shifted from cityscape to factories while you chatted, Yuta joining occasionally– apparently, he was one of the oldest employees and had served in Seonghwa’s unit so the two had almost always been together. You liked that most of the employees were more like ‘friends’ than acquaintances. Johnny was quite the example of just how casual they were with each other. While Yuta was a bit more reserved than Johnny, he was still a very charming man.

One of the factories towards the end of the expressway to Sector 8 was what the Crescents addressed as ‘the warehouse’. It belonged to Pledis Manufacturers where the Crescents were major shareholders and business partners. As the car came to a stop near the building, you heard the sounds of laughter reverberating from the inside accompanied by the harsh sound of machines and metal clanging. There were tables and chairs lining the margins and a few men could be seen eating what you presumed was their lunch. At the sight of your car, they got up and gathered around, making way to you and Seonghwa laughed to himself, shaking his head.

“Easy, boys. We’ve got a guest.”

“Oh, what a sight for sore eyes,” a man of medium stature wearing a casual denim outfit placed his hand over his chest as he bowed dramatically, making you a bit shocked though laughter erupted from your mouth. “I’m Boo Seungkwan, Manager of Pledis Manufacturers, at your service.”

“Pleasure,” you bowed back mockingly, noticing the others dressed just as casually.

“That’s Seokmin,” he introduced the tall guy with a contagious smile, and then pointed to another handsome man. “That’s Jun. We’re all managers here.”

The three exchanged looks filled with caution but Seonghwa nodded to let them know it was alright. “They play a vital role in the production part of the business.”

“Lovely,” you said, following Seonghwa inside and waving back at the three men who were almost jumping up and down while they waved at you. You laughed again, falling in step with Seonghwa. “Do they not get to go home often?”

“Oh, them?” Seonghwa scoffed. “They go home every weekend, but that’s normal behaviour from them.”

You smiled but it changed into a wince when you got hit with a wave of heat and the smell of metal and sweat filled your nostrils upon entering the warehouse, the dim lights making it a bit hard to focus. When your eyes finally adjusted, you gasped at the setup– it was truly something. The centre was an open, double-heighted space with the heaviest machines and Seonghwa told you that the main factory was situated at the very back which was connected to this section by a gate. The upper story seemed to be rooms and offices that were lined along the perimeter.

The workers greeted Seonghwa casually– there was no rushing, no scrambling and no awkwardness. Just comfortable acknowledgement of each other’s presence. You did get stares which wasn’t unexpected and you thought that it was because there weren’t any women here, but you spotted one in a causal fit working on operating one of the machines. Seonghwa told you that she was one of the best engineers they had– Umji.

You greeted a few more people including the CEO of Pledis– Choi Seungcheol. He was in the office just about to leave, dropping by for a visit and was glad to have caught Seonghwa. While the two talked, you settled down and a familiar face entered the office room.

“Oh– Luna!”

You smiled at the enthusiasm with which Jung Wooyoung greeted you.

“Mr. Jung,” you shook hands with him. “How have you been?”

“Ay, just call me Wooyoung,” he waved a hand in dismissal. “I’m not used to people calling me Mr. Jung.”

“That’s what I’ve always called you though…”

“And I always tell you to just call me Wooyoung,” he winked, adjusting his black tank top and slumping down on a chair. “So. How are you finding our workplace?”

“Pretty impressive,” you nodded. “What exactly do you do here?”

“Supervise and make sure we have enough stock,” he said. “Mingi is basically the guard dog and Jongho… he likes to play boss.”

“Oh,” you stifled a smile. “Interesting.”

Wooyoung smiled knowingly and Seungcheol said his farewell, leaving the three of you in the office. Seonghwa smiled at you. “We’ll wait for Mingi and Jongho and then you can get to know more about the business in detail.”

“You’ll have to do a lot,” you shrugged. “I’m not very well-versed in machines and the like.”

Wooyoung and Seonghwa shared a look and you caught that, the dots starting to connect. “Don’t tell me you’re going to be showing me something else entirely.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you might be well-versed in that,” Wooyoung grinned. “At least more than these boring old machine parts.”

You looked at Seonghwa who nodded in confirmation. “Are you sure?”

“I am, which is why I brought you here,” he straightened the navy blue coat of his suit. “After all… you should know these things as Hongjoong’s personal secretary.”

“Ooh, so it is happening,” Wooyoung was grinning shamelessly now. “I just knew they would like you when you made that deal that saved you your life. Not that Seonghwa was going to kill you anyway, right?”

“I don’t quite believe that,” you said. It was true, and Seonghwa only smiled in answer, giving away nothing. “But I think you might have liked me way back, Wooyoung. When you shouted at the bar for the whole world to know–”

“Oh, I’m still sorry for that,” Wooyoung laughed, making you share the sentiment.

It was a funny story– Wooyoung had been drunk and yapping, if you were to put it simply, about losing to the boys in a game of cards two times in a row. While passing a message to Yeosang, you secretly gave Wooyoung a tip, having observed the game and finding their weak spots. Wooyoung won the next game and while pompously boasting about how he had turned the tide of the game, he craned his neck out of the window to shout ‘Luna, I could kiss you right now!’ making half the bar groan at the confession while the other laughed and moved on. You were surprised for a few moments but when Eunbi told you that this was typical Wooyoung, you shrugged the nervousness off.

“But my offer still stands,” Wooyoung winked at you. If it had been anyone else, you would have become a mess. But since Wooyoung was… well, Wooyoung, you rolled your eyes in response and the conversation shifted to recent updates.

It wasn’t long after when the line rang and Wooyoung led you to the backside of the factory, playing the role of a tour guide, to everyone’s amusement. He explained how everything was a perfect cover for their weapons business– the material they used for both the machines and the weapons was more or less the same and in case of an inspection, they simply switched the display and transported the half-made weapons to trucks. The vehicles would sneak the weapons away into the thick forest that was not far from here. It was a perfect cover and since Pledis was an old, renowned manufacturing company, there were little to no inspections.

Sure, the police suspected that the Crescents may be dealing weapons but they would never suspect that they actually made their own weapons now.

Song Mingi and Choi Jongho lit up at the sight of the underboss, sharing fistbumps and hugs. You greeted them and they asked how you were doing, offering you a drink and scolding Wooyoung when they found out he hadn’t offered you anything yet. You assured them that you were okay but the conversation took an amusing turn as they pointed fingers at each other.

Mingi was surprised to learn that you knew your guns– Madame Cha, who was a collector of guns and the like, had shared her knowledge of guns with you a lot in passing and you had been able to retain some. The gun that you carried in your purse, a ruger revolver, had also been a gift from her. It was interesting to learn just what role the Crescents played in the making of these guns and an hour passed by with you simply talking about the mechanism with the boys.

Jongho noticed just how much fun you were having chatting with Yerin, one of the lead designers of the guns, and when you caught them waiting for you, you got flustered. You promised Yerin that you would visit again and have a more in-depth conversation with her and joined the Crescents afterwards. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Oh, no, it’s all good,” Jongho said. “I’m happy to see that you’re having a good time.”

You smiled and checked the time– there was still about two hours until your shift would begin. Jongho cleared his throat, catching your attention and asked, “Would you like to test some weapons before you go back?”

Your eyes widened with excitement at the offer and soon, you were in a car with Jongho driving and Seonghwa in the front seat. Wooyoung, who was sitting next to you in the backseat, explained that they often went to test the guns in a specific part of the forest and since it was hunting grounds anyway, the sounds went unnoticed– and it wasn’t like there were a lot of residents here.

If the police or someone else did notice, they could buy their silence. You shot him a dirty look but you both knew that it was far too easy to buy silence in Eden, especially after the war.

There was also something bothering you ever since you learned about the weapons project, and that was… who exactly were they delivering the weapons to? Were they really the right people to mingle with? What exactly was right and wrong anymore?

You reckoned you could simply ask at this point. Since they intended to involve you in the business, you could ask such things, right? You turned to Wooyoung, about to ask but you caught an incoming speedy truck through the window and a scream got stuck in your throat. You flailed your arm, trying to catch their attention but it looked like Jongho noticed at the same time that you finally managed to yell ‘watch out!’.

Jongho swerved the car to the side just enough to avoid getting yourselves into a horrible car crash but still couldn’t prevent a light bump and you braced yourself as your body rocked to the side violently. Before you could react, you heard the shatter of glass and you screamed this time, Wooyoung grabbing you by the back of your neck and making you crouch down as the fragments of the glass window rained over you.

You looked at Wooyoung in panic who also let his defence down just for a moment as he made sure that you were okay. You nodded and just like that, his gaze turned steel as he raised his head to inspect just who was trying to kill you guys.

“I’m driving– provide cover!” Jongho pressed the pedal with all his might, steering away from the minitruck that was hell bent on crushing you. Wooyoung loaded his gun and started shooting, Seonghwa doing the same from the front but mostly to protect Jongho. You put your hands over your ears for a moment as you tried to make sense of what was happening–

You were under attack. You had almost died.

You scrambled in your purse for the gun, taking it out and loading it. Wooyoung spared you a glance, tsk-ing in disapproval. “We’ve got it, Luna. Just stay down.”

“I’d rather take my chances,” you muttered, but also obeyed him. You stayed crouching down, focusing more on having Wooyoung’s back. Your shot wasn’t bad but Wooyoung was moving a lot so you couldn’t risk shooting in case you hurt him instead. However, when Wooyoung ran out of bullets, you passed him your gun which he gladly took. Meanwhile, you reloaded his gun with the bullets in the inside pocket of his jacket. You noticed the shards of glass buried in his skin but it was too chaotic to comment on that at the moment.

“Recognise them?” Jongho asked before he took a sharp turn to the right, the road getting bumpier now that you were further on the track in the forest.

“Nah,” Wooyoung sniffed, a sharp frown on his face as he took a breather having shot down the tyres of the minitruck and halting it. “Need help, hyung?”

“I’m good,” Seonghwa said, groaning when the car started to leave. He ordered Jongho to turn the car around so they could catch them and you silently prayed that no one gets hurt. Now that you were gathering your wits, you realised how much the air had changed.

They had become the men you used to watch from afar and were a bit afraid of. Ruthless, calculating and powerful.

Jongho stopped the car near the abandoned truck and you all watched the other car disappear into the forest– they had been at a disadvantage or perhaps, they had underestimated you. Whatever the case was, all that mattered to the Crescents was the reason they attacked you.

Jongho and Seonghwa looked back to make sure you were okay. While you were very surprised, you were okay for the most part if you could ignore the erratic heartbeat. While the younger two checked the perimeter, Seonghwa got out of the car and opened the door for you to help you out.

“You must have been shocked,” he said, caressing your gloved hand and frowning at the cut on your cheek, unable to stop himself and tracing it gently.

“I– I’m fine,” you gulped at his actions. “Uh, we should check the car. Does this happen often?”

“Not really,” he ran his hand through his messy long hair in frustration. “Someone’s really got a grudge against us lately.”

You raised a brow as if to say that that wasn’t new and he chuckled a bit, letting go of your hand and going towards the truck. You followed him, making note of the number plate– it was a registered Sector 1 vehicle. The two of you got inside the front seats of the truck, rummaging through the stuff when a certain something caught your eye.

An emblem of a cube within a cube. It might have gone unnoticed by the rest but you could recognise the unofficial emblem of Park Pharmaceuticals anywhere– it was only used personally by your father and you had seen it on some of his old employees’ uniforms and stationery as well.

Seonghwa noticed you staring at the emblem printed on a card and frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Your father must have learned that you had joined hands with the Crescents– or at least that you were now someone important to them. He must be suspecting that you were sharing information that you shouldn’t have told a soul. Was this supposed to be a warning, or did he really intend to kill you this time?

And he almost hurt the Crescents too. Wooyoung could have been shot. Seonghwa or Jongho could have gotten seriously injured. Just how low was this man going to stoop?

“Luna,” Seonghwa’s voice sounded again. “Do you recognise this emblem? You need to tell us if you do so we do not point at the wrong people.”

“This was my father’s doing,” you sighed in defeat. “This emblem is something he uses privately within his inner circle and gangs. I’m so sorry, Mr. Park. I should have known.”

“It’s not your fault,” he said, taking the emblem from you and examining it.

“But it is,” you got out of the truck, going towards the car, your chest tightening with every step because your father almost killed them just because you were acquainted with them. They almost died because of you. And he must have also been the one behind Yunho’s attack– Yunho almost got shot because of you too–

“Luna,” Seonghwa grabbed you by the wrist and shook his head. “Do not blame yourself for something your father did. He intended to kill you.”

“But he almost killed you guys because of me!” You said through gritted teeth, shutting your eyes and willing yourself to calm down. You looked at your side to see Wooyoung and Jongho watching. “I should not have involved myself like this.”

Wooyoung tsk-ed, searching inside his car and taking out a bottle of water. He motioned for you to sit by the tree and you did, thanking him and drinking a few gulps. Jongho sat down beside you, trying to pick a tiny shard of glass that was buried in his wrist.

“I’ve heard about your father,” Jongho said. “Secretary Park Byung Eun. He’s after you, isn’t he? Just because he’s afraid that you’ll spill all his dirty little secrets?”

“Well… yeah, that’s the gist of it,” you took a deep breath. “He must be mad that his own daughter is after him. What parent would kill their child just to silence them?”

You watched Seonghwa and Wooyoung clean the mess of a car, Wooyoung stealing glances at you occasionally. Seonghwa was mostly noting down the details of the truck, saying something about how he needed to find out just which gang your father had employed for this job.

“Some parents don’t need a reason to want to get rid of their child,” Jongho said, looking at you. “They just do it because they’re selfish like that.”

You frowned. Was he talking from personal experience?

“I’m actually an illegitimate child too,” Jongho shared with a smile and your mouth curved like an o in surprise. “My mother is from Eden and my father from Halaland. She gave birth here, which is why I’m considered an Eden citizen, but I spent my early childhood in Halaland. Quite a combination, right?”

He was right. People from Halaland had always been treated with wariness and after the war, it just got worse. They faced discrimination. To be an illegitimate child who was half Hala…

“I guess we do have something in common then,” you shrugged, Jongho laughing at your joke.

“The reason I’m telling you this, Luna, is because the fact that I am both of these has never hindered my path,” he said and you turned your attention to him. “Hongjoong and the others, they never discriminated. We were all children of war and we bonded with each other because we have more in common-like values and morals. Not family background or useless things like that. And you… just because you’re unwanted does not mean you have to bend under your father’s will.”

“I have not,” you shook your head. “I am resisting. I’m just trying to be careful, because this is what happens when I slip.”

“This did not happen because you were careless,” he assured you. “This happened because he is scared of you, Luna. Don’t you realise? He’s scared he will be exposed because you know that he has joined hands with Strictland. He’s scared that you will uncover the truth and expose him. If he gets exposed, he will lose everything and so will the people he has associated with. Are you gonna let him stomp over you, or are you going to try to be one step ahead?”

You clasped your hands in thought– he wasn’t wrong. You had just been too cowardly to see it.

“Jongho’s right,” Wooyoung joined you, Seonghwa watching with a smile. “Show them what you’re made of, Luna. Accept the secretary position with your whole heart and use us to take your revenge on him– after all, we share the same goals.”

“Where did that come from,” you laughed, finally feeling calmer when Wooyoung grinned back. “What is it to you if I become his secretary?”

“My precious Luna,” he teased, grinning cheekily. “You really think we’re asking you to be the secretary here? You’re already one right now.”

“Wooyoung,” Seonghwa warned but Wooyoung waved a hand.

“I mean,” he said, “Being Hongjoong’s personal secretary, or assistant, or whatever you call it… it will just be a term. What we’re really asking you is to become a part of our inner circle. We’re asking you to walk with us, plan with us, help us so we can help you. It’s more like being a partner, isn’t it?”

“That’s… a lot,” you laughed nervously, overwhelmed by his proposition.

“But we need you,” he said matter-of-factly. “And so do you. Neither of us can do this without each other.”

He was right. They could get more information on whatever Secretary Park was doing, but you still had so much more that you were keeping from them. To be a part of their inner circle, be a part of Ateez was what they were asking from you. Being Hongjoong’s personal secretary would just be the job you would officially do but really–

You walked with them. Dined with them. Planned with them, even now. No one else did it like you were doing. You were already a part of them, whether you liked it or not.

Not that you were complaining. They had treated you with more respect and given you more authority than you’d ever gotten in your life. You were seen and you were heard here. It was overwhelming but if you looked past that…

It was kind of heartwarming.

“We’re here to protect each other,” Seonghwa said, having noticed your features shift from nervousness to acceptance. “And that means that we will protect you, and you will protect us. It doesn't matter who you are or what your background is. Our goals are the same.”

“For Eden,” you said, looking at them. “Are we really doing this for Eden? Will it really benefit our homeland?”

“You must have some doubts about what we do. Rightfully so,” Seonghwa nodded, offering you his hand and you grabbed it, getting up. “You can ask me anything, Luna. On our way back– it’s getting dark, and we really must get going now.”

You went back to the warehouse first to switch cars. You were worried Mingi would be angry but he was surprisingly only glad that you all made it back in one piece. They offered to patch you up but you told them you really did not want to be late for your shift which made them laugh. It was only a scratch so you could take care of it in the office. The trio let you go with a can of beer for the way back ‘to calm your nerves’. You gladly accepted.

Seonghwa told you that it was okay to ask– apparently, Yuta was one of the insiders too. So candidly, you asked him why exactly did they need to manufacture their own weapons.

You learned that Eden had actually suffered in the war more than you imagined with a lot of soldiers having gone missing, suspected of defecting or worse. A lot of the existing weapons channels had also either shut down or stopped business for unknown reasons. The underworld dealing came to a halt for some time after the war and while the treaty between Halaland and Eden ensured that there wouldn’t be a war in the foreseeable future, if Halaland learned that Eden was basically defenceless, they might start something again.

Seonghwa also told you that Eden’s military could not be trusted because their sole purpose seemed to be power and politics, referring to the clashes ex-President Son had with the military when they enforced the ‘over-17’ law. Hence, a few old gangs like MX and others resumed the weapons dealing and even collaborated with gangs from Wonderland and Utopia.

You told Seonghwa that you had qualms about their drug project too but he promised that they would tell you the details soon. You understood and a few minutes later, you reached the Crescent office. You still had some time to spare so you freshened up before going upstairs.

You were arranging your things at the desk and just taking a breather when the door to Yunho’s office opened. Seonghwa appeared to be leaving. Yunho followed behind and they exchanged a few words before Seonghwa disappeared downstairs and Yunho turned his attention to you.

You had to admit it, you missed him a little. He hadn’t been in the office a lot recently, probably busy with other things, but he appeared as sophisticated as ever in his black button down shirt and cream slacks. He smiled at you faintly, slowly walking towards you and shaking his head.

“You need to do something about that,” he pointed at your cheek. You had taken a look at it in the mirror earlier in the bathroom– the blood had crusted so you let it be. You didn’t have any band-aids in your purse and decided to start keeping some.

“Good evening to you too. It’s only a scratch,” you said and Yunho shook his head.

“Come to my room,” he said, not waiting to hear a response and you huffed, surrendering and following him. He was rummaging through his drawers and found the little first-aid box, bringing it towards the couch and beckoning you to sit.

“A simple bandage would do,” you started but he raised a finger in warning and that shut you up pretty quick. He settled down next to you and took out a bottle of disinfectant and a cotton pad, soaking it in and then turning towards you. You extended your hand so he could pass you the pad but he ignored that, leaning in to do the job himself. You reflexively shut your eyes as his hand neared your face and he didn’t miss that.

Your heart rate picked up and you willed your eyes to open, finding him watching you with curiosity. He cleaned the scratch, his brows furrowing in concentration and then he discarded the pad, taking out a box of salve. This time, he picked some on his index finger and you pursed your lips to keep a comment from popping out of your mouth.

With the pad of his thumb, he turned your face sideways so he could properly see the scratch and then he started applying the salve. You took a deep breath, the air thick with tension. He decided to break the silence.

“Are you okay? You must have been shocked,” he said.

“Yeah, I was,” you admitted. “But I recovered pretty quick this time.”

“Ah, did you?” A smirk made its way on his lips as he finished applying the ointment, now opening the bandaid. You just knew he was thinking about that night when you freaked out when he was going to be attacked and kept him close so he wouldn’t risk his life trying to find answers.

“Yes. I owe that to Wooyoung and Jongho,” you huffed. “They are good with words.”

“Was I not?” He asked, referring to that night.

“They also let me use my gun,” you half-lied but when he gave you the look, you rolled your eyes. “Okay, technically, I only loaded it for Wooyoung. He’s the one who used it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure they wouldn’t let you get your hands dirty,” he chuckled, carefully applying the band-aid over the scar.

“Maybe I’ll need to,” you shrugged and he looked at you. “I should learn how to use the gun properly if I’m keeping it. I mean, I do know how to use it but I lack practice.”

“But you shouldn’t actually use it,” he reprimanded but you shook your head.

“I need to learn to protect myself… and protect you.”

He looked at you in surprise and you continued. “All of you. If you claim to have my back, I should return the favour. I should be able to protect myself, not be a burden to you guys, and protect you all in return.”

“Luna… you really don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Yunho assured you calmly. “And you’re not a burden to us. Don’t ever think that.”

“I can’t just sit back and watch you guys risk your life trying to protect me from someone who’s after me!” You started. “You can try to convince me that it’s not my fault that you almost got shot that night or the boys almost got hurt today, but I know it’s my fault.”

“Luna–”

“Yes, it’s not exactly my fault,” you rambled on. “It’s my father’s. But the fact is that he is after me and if to get to me he needs to wipe out all of you, he will, just so he can continue with his awful dealings that I’m sure will cost Eden something–”

“Y/n,” Yunho scooted forward, taking both your hands in his and intertwining them, making you stop mid-sentence. He took a deep breath, watching how your small hands fit in his and when you looked at your joined hands, your heart melted at the way his fingers gently caressed yours. “Are you done now?”

You didn’t respond and he tried not to comment on how you always shut up when you were in close proximity with him or, well, whenever he was touching you. He took a deep breath.

“You’re ours now,” he locked eyes with you, his tone almost containing a hint of warning in them that made your heart sink a little. “You’re a Crescent now, a part of our team, and that means that you will protect us in any way that you can, and we will return the favour. The information that you provide us with… that is our protection, and that is enough. If you wish to learn defence or offence, sure. I won’t stop you. But it should only be to protect yourself, okay?”

You pursed your lips but he was being adamant, squeezing your hands a little. “We would have gotten in trouble with Secretary Park one day anyway. Eventually, our secret drug project was going to lead us to him and it could have taken an even more dangerous turn. But what happened today… that is enough. He’s crossing a line. I will send him a message, and I will make it clear that you are under our protection and we will not tolerate any more misbehaviour from him. Is that okay?”

“He will consider it a call for war,” you warned him. “He will not stop.”

“So be it,” Yunho smiled almost sadistically. “We are children of war, all of us, aren’t we? The personal battles too. We are survivors, you and I. He won’t know what’s coming for him.”

You nodded in answer, looking down. You weren’t sure you were ever going to get used to someone treating you not just as an equal but offering you their power and so much more. But Yunho… he always knew just what was going on in your head. He drew back one of his hands from your hold only to draw it towards your face, lifting your chin up so you would look at him.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”

It must have been an order because his gaze compelled you to spill.

“It’s hard to wrap my head around the fact that you’re all doing this… willingly. For me.”

Yunho smiled, shaking his head. “For you, and for us. Get used to this treatment, princess.”

With an affectionate tap to your cheek, he drew back and started packing the kit. You sat there, baffled at what he just said and also, taking the loss of his touch to your heart. When he looked at you, your hand seemed to be outstretched as if you aimed to rest it on his back. You drew it away but he caught that, raising a brow.

“Princess? Really?” you asked, making him laugh.

“I can do worse too,” he offered and you shook your head, about to leave but he grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him, a surprised yelp escaping your mouth when you found his face way too close to yours, his eyes searching yours for answers that you didn’t possess yet. You felt the urge to draw his ruffled hair away from his forehead. His gaze flickered to your lips and god, he was going to be the death of you.

“No thanks,” you scoffed in answer but then he purposely raised your hand slowly, shifting his hold so he could kiss your knuckles softly, all the while maintaining eye contact with you. Your own lips parted in surprise at his actions– he was crossing the line, but–

What line? The question hung in the air as he waited for you to challenge him, to respond to him.

What line, really.

“Is this a challenge?” You dared to ask.

“If you make it to be,” he responded, eagerly waiting for you to make the next move.

And oh, he did not realise that you would never back down from a challenge. You licked your lips, leaning forward and smiling in satisfaction when he started tilting his face, expecting the obvious. You drew closer until you were inches away and when his eyes fluttered shut, you made your move.

You blew lightly at the tip of his nose, earning a shocked sound from him and with an almost childish giggle erupting from your mouth, you backed away and started to go towards the door, looking back to find him flustered but amused. You saluted mockingly, making him laugh before you shut the door.

Oh. You were done for.

next chapter

-> apply for the taglist here! (check your privacy setting if the tags don't work)

taglist pt 1:

@lorensonebraincell @sungbeam @waywardstaytiny @lluvia1415 @woohwababes @jjaemasung @fruithoughts @fancypeacepersona @propinquitypsithurism @kyomiingi @ateezswonderland @janetsarttrove @thenopekid @justconniez @daniela-f-uwu @hwasbestlover @vcutparis @missbangtangirl @zaynsfl4m3s @beabatiny @slowitdownmakeitb0uncy @alliethequeen @lavishloving @haowonbins @franbowesax @klllerwaifu @katerade23 @selfishw4ltz @paramedicnerd004 @atzlordz @curse-of-art @meowmeeps @intowxnderland @faeriehwa @staytiny-yaps @ishz @dumplingsyum @bunnychui @kandy108 @chanst1ddies @softsanglix @yongility @sang-09 @sweetinsaniiity @a-teez-4-exo @omgsuperstarg @saintriots @bihwabi @pshwifey @emotionallyanaemic

#ateez x reader #poly ateez x reader #ateez ot8 x reader #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong angst #yeosang x reader #yeosang angst #yeosang fluff #yunho x reader #yunho angst #yunho fluff #ateez mafia au #ateez angst #ateez fluff #ateez series #ateez fanfic

137 notes · View notes

thatfeyboy · 24 hours ago

Text

I will be completely real with you. The reason this is(most likely) believed is two fold; one, our society views men as always having the advantage over women even when it is blatantly untrue or more nuanced. It is gender validating for (some) trans women especially to view trans men as a big scary threat and getting privilege over them because that's what the other women talk about(regarding men) and is heavily ingrained in women's spaces AND queer spaces. It is also a way to put privilege on gender rather than sex traits, as many in women's spaces will try and remove them based on one aspect but not the other. Tying trans men(gender) to privilege and violence is a way for them to escape this form of persecution and rest that blame on someone else. Two, (some) trans women, and a few have stated this outright that are TRF types, say they are jealous of pre transition trans men's bodies. They view it as ruining their bodies and chance at idealness/perfection/beauty/etc with testosterone, as well as having a supposed "easier" transition. So blatantly lying and harassing trans men with things they KNOW are not true is a way of venting and validating themselves.

These folks think trans men have a leg up because they are viewed as men, while having a leg up because they supposedly "gave up" what they themselves desire and as trans women have experienced oppression from cis women(and that those same men can somehow easily jump between these types of privilege as trans men are actually just stupid cis women larping to be trans, as far as they are concerned). We are cis women+ to these people, not trans. They do not and will likely never view us as trans OR men, because they hold the same and in some cases worse views on this than their TERF relatives. It's disgusting, but I'm pretty sure this is what it is.

i fully buy that this (lowdosing) is true but oh my God why does it have to come back to "TMEs" believing that it's weaker? Why is the medical industry so invested in that? Why wouldn't it be invested in making "TMAs" believe that?

Most of the "TMEs" people refer to already have bodies that are affected by estrogen. In fact, if you actually talk to "transandrobros" you will find we often discuss how estrogen is wrongly and misogynistically portrayed as the weaker hormone, when we KNOW it isn't because it fundamentally changed our bodies in ways that require medical intervention to change again. Like. what do you think WE are gaining from trans women getting low dosed or propaganda about estrogen being weak. Why does this have to be about how the medical industry loves trans men and is only systemically against trans women. Hellloooooo

600 notes · View notes

sea-lanterns · 14 hours ago

Note

*slides in, unsure*

Can we thirst for Curcabena? If yes, can I suggest an monster au with her? Kelpie! Curcabena, an evil water monster who drowns children and will fuck us into oblivion if given chance.

I want this woman carnally.

CW: Monsterfucking, riding, unprotected sex, breeding, sex in the water

Kelpie! Crucabena tricking you into riding her, but instead of drowning you she actually makes you ride her. (And definitely in the way that you think 😏)

She wraps her fish-like tail around your body and pulls you close to her, snickering at how cute you look flailing around in the water while she makes you bounce on her dick. You have no choice but to grab onto Crucabena’s shoulders as she thrusts into you, moaning at the feeling of your warm, human pussy wrapping around her.

“My, quite a cute human you are…” she purrs, pressing you against some rocks and mounting you from behind. The water churns with each rough thrust of her hips, a cruel smirk stretching upon the woman’s lips. She would have drowned you like all her other unfortunate victims, but seeing how cute you looked moaning and bucking your hips up at her, the Kelpie figured she might just make you her mate for life.

After she cums deep into your womb, shallowly emptying out the rest of her seed, she drags you through the water where you’ll spend the rest of your life living in Crucabena’s cave. Where you’d hopefully deliver her a few Kelpie babies <3

#🫧feeding the fishes #monster au #crucabena smut

68 notes · View notes

kathlare · 3 days ago

Text

promise kept

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: The night of the Grammys is full of excitement and emotions for Amelie as she celebrates her success, having just won her first Grammy.

Wordcount: 4.6 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

February 2nd, 2022 - Los Angeles, CA

The night was still shimmering in gold, the dazzling lights of the Grammys creating a stage unlike any other. For Amelie, it felt like she was caught in a whirlwind of excitement. The moment she stepped off the stage after her performance, everything seemed to pause for a second—except for Lando. His eyes were still locked on her as she walked to their table, where she was finally going to sit down and breathe for the first time since the red carpet.

The glitz of the night had been relentless—too many pictures, too many interviews. It felt like she couldn’t stop moving, always having to be somewhere, always having to smile for someone. But now? Now, she could finally relax. She dropped into the chair next to Lando, smiling at him as she adjusted the gown, the weight of the moment resting on her shoulders. She'd already won one Grammy, for Best Pop Solo Performance for Espresso, and now all that was left was the anticipation of whether she'd take home another.

Lando looked at her with that familiar glint in his eyes, his lips twitching in a mix of admiration and playful teasing. The moment their eyes met, Amelie felt it—a familiar warmth, a little electric spark between them. After everything they'd been through, the awkwardness of their early relationship, the struggles, and the breakups, here they were again. They were real this time—together in a way they hadn't been before.

—Finally,— Lando murmured, his voice low, a little teasing as he leaned toward her. He barely had the chance to say more before a voice called out to her.

—Amelie, darling! You were phenomenal!—

Amelie immediately stood up, her smile wide, graceful, but apologetic as she turned toward the interruption. She knew she had to go through this—the inevitable flow of people who wanted to congratulate her.

—Thank you so much!— she said with a laugh, giving a quick hug to the person who stopped her. She greeted a few more people, exchanging quick pleasantries, all the while feeling Lando’s eyes on her. He was silent, watching as she handled the flurry of attention with poise. But there was a visible shift in him when people started to approach. Lando wasn’t used to this kind of attention—the level of fame Amelie had acquired, the constant swarm of people seeking her time. He was still getting used to it, even after all this time.

Lando sat back in his chair, watching Amelie as she moved through the crowd, a bit of a hesitant smile tugging at his lips. He was so proud of her, but part of him couldn't help feeling out of place in this world. The sheer volume of people who wanted her attention, who saw her as this shining star, was something he was still adjusting to. Back in Monaco, it was a different world—his own bubble, his racing family, a familiar territory. But here, at the Grammys, it was like everything had shifted around him. He was a little bit of an outsider.

As Amelie turned to chat with someone else, Lando caught Alex's eye across the table. Alex gave him a subtle nod, a sympathetic grin on his face. Lando could tell what he was thinking—he’d seen it before, the way Lando seemed a little overwhelmed by the spectacle of it all.

Lando ran a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the feeling of discomfort. He'd been around this enough, seen it in bits and pieces—red carpets, big events. But when it was Amelie at the center of it all, it felt different. Like the attention had a different weight, a different gravity.

Amelie, meanwhile, was still greeting people—posing for a picture here, exchanging a joke there. She looked like she was made for this world, her radiance never dimming, her energy infectious. It was mesmerizing, the way she commanded the room without even trying.

The air around Lando seemed to tighten, though, as Amelie was about to head back to their table when she was caught by a particularly tall, dark-haired figure. Lando recognized him almost immediately—Benson Boone. The singer had never really been on Lando’s radar, but now, seeing him move toward Amelie, there was a certain… tension.

Benson was smiling, casual, but Lando’s instincts flared—this guy wasn’t just stopping for a quick congratulatory chat. There was something more to it, some glint in his eyes that Lando didn’t like. Maybe it was the way Benson’s gaze lingered a little longer than necessary on Amelie, or how his body language was just a touch too close. Whatever it was, Lando’s gut twisted, and he leaned forward, trying to ignore the growing irritation.

—Shit,— Lando muttered under his breath, clenching his jaw. The moment felt too long for his comfort, too drawn out.

Lando’s irritation was palpable now, his chest tightening as he watched Benson move even closer to Amelie. He had no idea why, but the guy’s presence made something inside him stir—something protective, something possessive. His hands clenched into fists beneath the table as he saw Benson smile a little too brightly, his fingers lingering near Amelie’s elbow.

This wasn’t going to happen. Lando wasn’t going to sit by and let some stranger make a move on his girlfriend—not when they’d only just gotten back together after so much, not when they were finally working on building something real.

Before he even realized what he was doing, Lando was already standing. His chair scraped loudly against the floor, drawing a few curious glances from the surrounding tables. But Lando didn’t care. His focus was entirely on Benson. He wasn’t thinking, wasn’t analyzing—he was just reacting.

—Hey, uh, sorry, you gotta give me a second,— he muttered, pushing past the table and moving quickly toward Amelie, who was still caught in Benson’s orbit.

As Lando made his way toward Amelie, his pulse was quickening, his thoughts racing. He wasn’t sure exactly why he felt this way. Maybe it was the unfamiliarity of the situation—the fact that Benson, a stranger to him, had come so close to Amelie, and it made him feel territorial, protective even. He wasn’t one to get possessive, not normally. But this… this felt different.

His footsteps were purposeful, but not rushed. He didn’t want to make a scene. He wasn’t about to storm over like some jealous idiot—well, maybe he was, but he was trying to keep it under control. He just needed to make sure Benson understood that Amelie was his. That whatever he was thinking, it wasn’t going to happen.

He walked up just as Amelie was laughing at something Benson had said. Lando could feel his chest tightening, but he kept his tone cool, masking his internal struggle behind a calm exterior. He slid into the conversation seamlessly, his voice low and smooth.

—Hey, Ames,— Lando said with a casual grin, reaching out to gently tap her shoulder. The effect was immediate: Amelie turned, her eyes lighting up when she saw him.

Lando felt the tiniest bit of relief when her face softened at the sight of him, her body instinctively leaning into his as if it was the most natural thing in the world. It was a silent reassurance—one he desperately needed in that moment.

—Lan,— she said, her voice warm, familiar, like honey in his ears.

But then his attention snapped back to Benson, whose smile faltered just slightly at Lando’s sudden appearance. Good. He wanted the guy to feel even the tiniest bit uncomfortable. Because whatever Benson had been trying to do? Yeah, that wasn’t happening.

—Sorry to interrupt,— Lando said, tone polite but firm, his hand sliding around Amelie’s waist with ease, fingers settling possessively against the fabric of her gown. He didn’t grip her too tightly, didn’t make it obvious, but it was a silent message. She’s mine.

Benson’s eyes flickered to the hand on Amelie’s waist, and Lando didn’t miss the way the guy hesitated for just a beat before recovering.

—No worries, man. You’re Lando, right?— Benson asked, extending a hand.

Lando glanced at it for half a second before finally shaking it, his grip firm.

—Yeah, and you’re Benson,— Lando replied, voice still cool, still casual, but his words had an edge, like he wanted to make sure Benson knew that he knew exactly who he was. And that he wasn’t impressed.

Amelie, completely unaware of the silent standoff, smiled brightly. —Oh! You two haven’t met before, right?— She gestured between them.

—Nope, first time,— Lando said, shifting even closer to Amelie. If he could physically put himself between them, he probably would.

Benson’s smile stretched just a little wider, like he wasn’t oblivious to what was happening but wasn’t about to back down so easily either. Lando didn’t like that.

—Well, it’s nice to meet you, man. Amelie, I just wanted to say congratulations, your album was insane. I’ve been a fan for a while,— Benson said, looking at Amelie again.

Lando’s grip on her waist tightened ever so slightly.

—That’s sweet, thank you!— Amelie beamed, ever the gracious one. She was so used to these interactions, so used to handling people with warmth and kindness. But Lando? He wasn’t built for this. He wasn’t used to seeing other men look at her like that, like they thought they had a chance.

And maybe Benson didn’t actually think that. Maybe Lando was overreacting, but in his mind, it didn’t matter. He wasn’t about to take any risks.

—Yeah, she’s fucking incredible, isn’t she?— Lando said, his tone light, but there was a very clear subtext to his words.

Amelie turned to look at him, one perfectly arched brow raising slightly as if she could sense exactly what he was doing. She didn’t say anything, though, just rested her hand over his on her waist, her touch soft.

Benson nodded, clearly catching onto the unspoken tension. —Yeah, she is.—

Lando’s jaw tensed. He hated the way Benson said it. Like he knew it too well. Like he was too comfortable saying it out loud.

—Well, if you’ll excuse us, I finally got my girlfriend to sit down for the first time tonight, so I’m gonna steal her for a bit,— Lando said, pulling Amelie even closer, his arm now fully around her.

Benson chuckled, nodding. —Of course, man. Congrats again, Amelie.—

—Thank you!— Amelie said again, waving as Benson finally walked away.

The moment he was gone, Lando let out a slow breath, shaking his head.

—You alright there, Lan?— Amelie asked, her voice amused as she turned to fully face him, her hands resting on his chest.

Lando scoffed, looking down at her with narrowed eyes. —What was that? He was flirting with you.—

Amelie laughed. —He was just being nice!—

—Bullshit.— Lando huffed, then leaned down so that his lips were just above her ear, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. —He wanted to take you home, and I wasn’t about to fucking let that happen.—

Amelie shivered at his words, her fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his suit.

—Well, lucky for you, I already have someone taking me home tonight,— she murmured, tilting her head up to look at him through her lashes.

Lando grinned. —Damn right you do.—

She giggled, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. Lando melted into it instantly, his hand sliding up to cup her jaw, tilting her head back to deepen the kiss.

But, of course...

—Amelie! Darling, congratulations! Can we grab a quick picture?—

Lando groaned, pulling away just as Amelie turned to greet yet another person.

He sat back in his chair, exhaling sharply as he watched her get pulled away yet again.

Alex, still seated at the table, snorted. —You’re really suffering tonight, mate.—

Lando dragged a hand down his face. —I swear, if one more person interrupts me, I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.—

Alex smirked. —You do realize you’re dating a superstar, right?—

Lando sighed, glancing back at Amelie, who was smiling for a photo, looking every bit the star she was.

Yeah. He knew. And he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

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

The after-party was a fucking blur.

Neon lights flickered across the dance floor, casting a hazy glow over the sea of bodies swaying to the bass-heavy music. Amelie was in her element—barely on the ground, floating on the high of the night. Two damn Grammys. Her Grammys. The final missing piece to the EGOT, now forever attached to her name.

She’d done it. At twenty-three. The youngest in history.

And if the bottomless glasses of champagne weren’t enough to keep the reality from settling in, the endless wave of people congratulating her certainly were. Every time she turned around, someone new pulled her into a hug, gushed about how proud they were, told her how deserved it was.

And it was. She knew it was. But holy fuck, it was a lot.

She hadn’t even seen Lando properly since before the ceremony, and that was saying something considering he was usually attached to her hip. She could feel him somewhere in the room—Lando had this energy about him, like a magnet always pulling her in. But every time she caught a glimpse of him, someone else dragged her away.

She was wasted. In the best way.

And apparently, Lando had had enough.

One moment, she was mid-conversation with Taylor and Selena, the next, a firm grip landed on her wrist, tugging her away. She barely had time to react before she was pulled through the crowd, past clusters of industry elites and a few confused glances, straight into the dimly lit hallway that led to the more private section of the venue.

She barely registered what was happening before she was pressed against the nearest wall, warm hands gripping her waist, and a familiar set of lips crashing onto hers.

Fuck.

She melted into it immediately, fingers curling into the fabric of his suit as she kissed him back with just as much urgency. It was messy, desperate—weeks' worth of tension crammed into a single moment. He was everywhere, hands roaming over the silk of her dress, thumb pressing into the dip of her waist like he needed her closer, despite the fact there was no space left between them.

—Finally.— Lando muttered against her lips, his voice slightly breathless, hands refusing to let her go.

She let out a dazed laugh, resting her forehead against his. —You literally kidnapped me.—

—You weren’t giving me a choice.— He tightened his grip on her hips, lips brushing against hers again, teasing. —D’you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting to get you alone?—

She smirked, fingers tracing the back of his neck. —I’m a Grammy winner now, baby. In high demand.—

Lando groaned dramatically, dropping his head to her shoulder. —Fuck off. I’ve been waiting all night to do this.— His lips trailed along her jaw, nipping at her skin. —And you’re too fucking busy for me.—

—Oh, poor baby.— Amelie cooed, running her nails lightly through the short curls at the nape of his neck, knowing exactly how much that drove him insane.

Lando groaned again, but it turned into a laugh, muffled against her collarbone. —I hate you sometimes.—

—No, you don’t.— She grinned, tilting his chin up so their noses brushed. —You love me. You adore me.—

He sighed dramatically. —I do. It’s fucking disgusting how much I do.—

—Damn right.—

He kissed her again, slower this time, savoring. It was dizzying, the way he kissed her. Like he was drowning, and she was the only thing keeping him afloat. His hands slid lower, fingers pressing into her lower back.

—How drunk are you?— He murmured against her lips, his voice low, teasing.

—Mmm. Tipsy. Wasted. Drunk on success, mostly.— She giggled, poking his cheek.

He snorted. —You’re an absolute menace.—

—And you love it.—

—Fuck off.—

Amelie just grinned, throwing her arms around his neck. —Say it.—

—Say what?— Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly playing dumb.

—Say you love me.—

His smirk softened, something warmer flickering in his eyes. He pulled her in, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips before whispering, softly, —I love you, Ames.—

She melted.

—Good.— She beamed, booping his nose. —I love you, too, Lan.—

A sudden voice interrupted them.

—Oh, for fuck’s sake. Can you two go five minutes without making out?—

Both turned their heads to see Alex Wolff standing there, looking thoroughly unimpressed, arms crossed.

Amelie just smirked, leaning into Lando’s embrace. —Nope.—

Lando flipped Alex off. —Piss off, mate.—

Alex rolled his eyes. —Just don’t start shagging in the hallway, yeah? I really don’t wanna witness that.—

—No promises.— Amelie teased, winking.

Alex groaned. —I fucking hate you both.—

Lando just grinned, kissing Amelie again.

She tasted like champagne and victory. And he was completely, utterly, fucking obsessed.

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

liked by dualipa, lando, and others

ameliedayman: cannot believe life had to post this in the moment but will talk to you later

View all 4,593 comments

lando: ACTUAL SUPERSTAR. LEGEND. ICON. MY GIRLFRIEND. (I win.) 🏆😭❤️ → ameliedayman: @lando stop it you’re embarrassing me 🙄 → landonorris: @ameliedayman never. I will be publicly obsessed with you forever. → ameliedayman: @lando u already are 🥱 → landonorris: @ameliedayman good. Also, u looked so hot holding those Grammys. We should get married. → ameliedayman: @lando oh my god 💀

tateszn: The chokehold she has on me is insane. GIVE US THE TOUR DATES.

stelladayman: Our little Grammy-winning gremlin 🥹❤️ → ameliedayman: @stelladayman u make me sound like a cartoon character but I’ll allow it

charles_leclerc: Back-to-back wins… just like Lando’s patience when waiting for you all these years 😭🏆 → lando: @charles_leclerc patience is key, mate. Look at me now. → ameliedayman: @charles_leclerc STOP CHARLES LMFAO → charles_leclerc: @ameliedayman I only speak facts.

mclaren: Our fave WAG’s got Grammys, no big deal. 🏆 → lando: @mclaren RESPECTFULLY SHE IS NOT JUST A WAG SHE IS A LEGEND, A QUEEN, THE LOVE OF MY LIFE.

georgerussell63: Two Grammys, a F1 boyfriend, and still not even slightly humbled 💀 → ameliedayman: @georgerussell63 never will be 😌 → lando: @georgerussell63 and what about it?? She deserves to be cocky. → ameliedayman: @lando aww thanks Lan 🥰 → landonorris: @ameliedayman kiss me rn.

ameliefanclub: TWO. GRAMMYS. TWO. GRAMMYS. WHAT DID WE SAY?! THE QUEEN OF POP HAS ARRIVED. → landostan69: @ameliefanclub And she has Lando WHIPPED omg we won in so many ways

f1gossip: Two Grammys AND she bagged Lando? The true world champion.

elysiadayman: She’s always been that bitch, this just confirms it. 😌 → ameliedayman: @elysiadayman always 🤝

madisonbeer: Two-time Grammy winner AND still the funniest person I know. Life’s unfair. → ameliedayman: @madisonbeer gotta keep u humble somehow 😌

gracieabrams: Most talented person on earth. Don’t argue. → ameliedayman: @gracieabrams says the most talented person on earth?!

f1gossip: Lando being a certified wife guy in the comments is the content we deserve. → f1stan23: @f1gossip I mean… he really got his dream girl AND she’s a Grammy winner. I’d be sick too.

billieeilish: I TOLD YOU!!!! → ameliedayman: @billieeilish YOU DID!!! 😭💖

daymanupdates: Amelie winning two Grammys and Lando being the most obsessed boyfriend on the planet… history has been made.

danielricciardo: EGOT loading… I called it first. → ameliedayman: @danielricciardo you have always believed in me, uncle danny 😭💘

jackdayman: I’ve decided to let this whole “music career” thing slide now that you have two Grammys. 🙄 → ameliedayman: @jackdayman Oh, thank you so much for your approval, dearest brother. 🙃

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

The elevator ride up to their hotel suite was a mess of giggles, lazy kisses, and Amelie nearly falling over in her heels. She was gone, absolutely wasted in the best way, still floating from the adrenaline of the night. Lando, less drunk but still buzzed, had one arm around her waist, the other gripping her hand, keeping her upright as she clung to him.

—You’re so fucking pretty.— Amelie slurred, blinking up at him as she reached to poke his nose.

Lando chuckled, shaking his head. —Not as pretty as my Grammy-winning girlfriend.— He pressed a kiss to her temple, tightening his grip on her waist.

She grinned, resting her head against his shoulder as the elevator doors opened to their suite. The second they stepped inside, Amelie sighed dramatically, kicking off her heels and stumbling toward the bedroom. —Gotta get this makeup off. Dunno how people wear this shit every day.—

Lando smirked, watching her sway on her feet. —Need help, love?—

She spun around, pointing a wobbly finger at him. —I got this, Norris. Stay put.—

Lando raised his hands in mock surrender. —Alright, alright.—

With that, she disappeared into the bathroom, humming Espresso under her breath as she scrubbed her face clean. When she was finally makeup-free and in her favorite oversized hoodie and sweatpants, she stretched, rubbing her eyes as she pushed open the bathroom door, fully expecting to find Lando already sprawled out on the bed.

But the bedroom was empty.

She frowned, glancing around. —Lan?—

No response.

Curious, she padded barefoot toward the suite’s living room, her breath catching slightly when she saw it.

The room was dimly lit, but it was impossible to miss the decorations—gold and silver balloons tied to the backs of chairs, a few floating near the ceiling. But what really made her freeze was the small table in the center of the room.

Sitting on top was a McDonald’s bag.

She stared at it for a solid five seconds before looking up to see Lando standing a few feet away, hands tucked into his pockets, watching her with the softest fucking smile.

—You remembered?— Her voice came out small, overwhelmed.

Lando shrugged, grinning. —Course I did. You told me years ago. Said the second you won your EGOT, you’d finally try McDonald’s. Figured tonight was the night.—

A lump formed in her throat. She’d mentioned that in passing so long ago, back when they were barely friends, just two idiots playing video games at three in the morning. She hadn’t even thought he’d remembered, let alone go out of his way to make it happen.

Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, and before she could stop herself, she launched forward, throwing her arms around his neck, hugging him tight.

—Hey, hey.— Lando chuckled, catching her easily, wrapping his arms around her waist. —No crying, baby. It’s just McDonald’s.—

—No, it’s not just McDonald’s.— She sniffled, burying her face in his shoulder. —It’s you remembering something stupid I said years ago. It’s you making it special.—

Lando’s grip tightened as he pressed a kiss to the side of her head. —You’re special. Makes sense the night you finish your EGOT should be too.—

She let out a watery laugh, pulling back slightly to look up at him. —I love you, y’know that?—

He grinned, brushing a thumb over her cheek. —Yeah, I know. Love you too, superstar.—

She beamed, wiping her eyes. —Alright, let’s eat this shit. I’ve waited twenty-three years for this moment.—

—That’s dramatic as fuck, Ames.— Lando teased, grabbing the bag and leading her to the couch.

—Shut up, let me have this.—

They sat cross-legged on the couch, pulling the food out—fries, nuggets, burgers. Amelie picked up a fry, inspecting it with exaggerated suspicion. —Okay, here we go. First McDonald’s bite ever.—

Lando rolled his eyes, laughing. —Just eat it, love.—

She popped the fry into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

Then she shrugged. —Yeah, that’s fire.—

Lando snorted. —Not so bad for a fine dining girl, huh?—

—Don’t push it, Norris.— She grabbed a nugget, taking a bite. —Oh, that’s actually so good.—

Lando grinned, watching her work through the meal. It was a ridiculous moment in the grand scheme of things, but it was theirs, and it made his chest ache in the best way.

By the time they were finished, Amelie flopped back against the couch, rubbing her stomach. —That was so much food.—

Lando chuckled, shifting closer, hand finding her thigh. —Can’t have you wasting away after a big night.—

She turned her head toward him, eyes flickering down to his lips. —You take care of me too well, Lan.—

—Somebody’s gotta.— He smirked, fingers tracing slow circles against her leg. —Besides, you’re my girl. Comes with the job.—

Something warm spread through her chest, and before she could overthink it, she leaned in, pressing her lips to his.

Lando hummed in surprise before immediately kissing her back, shifting to pull her onto his lap. It started slow, gentle—then escalated quickly, Amelie deepening the kiss, fingers tangling in his curls. Lando groaned against her mouth, hands gripping her hips as she pressed against him, heat simmering between them.

—Bed.— She whispered against his lips.

Lando exhaled shakily, nodding. —Yeah. Yeah.—

Without another word, he lifted her, carrying her toward the bedroom as she giggled against his neck. The night had been perfect, but this? This was just the cherry on top.

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

liked by maxverstappen1, joeburrow, and others

lando.jpg: Grammy-winning muse 🎞️🏆💌

Some moments of her on the biggest night. The most beautiful, talented, insane woman I know. I took approximately 500 photos, but these are the ones she approved (barely). Still doesn’t do her justice.

View all 3,482 comments

ameliedayman: my favorite photographer 🥺🤍 i love you, lan. i still can’t believe u took 500 photos of me like a crazy man but honestly… understandable. → lando.jpg: @ameliedayman i’d take 500 more. and then 500 after that. actually, don’t move, i’m getting my camera rn.

georgerussell63: mate, you’ve changed. you used to be cool. → lando.jpg: @georgerussell63 no i didn’t. shut up. → ameliedayman: @georgerussell63 no but he’s soooo much worse in private 💀 help me. → lando.jpg: @ameliedayman you love it.

fan1: NOT LANDO BEING A FULL-TIME BOYFRIEND AND PART-TIME PHOTOGRAPHER.

fan2: "Muse" oh he is OBSESSED obsessed

charles_leclerc: She lets you take 500 photos? I take one and get yelled at. → ameliedayman: @charles_leclerc because ur angles are criminal. 🫵🏼

landonorrisfan37: HELP HE’S SO GONE FOR HER I CAN’T DO THIS TODAY.

alex_albon: 500 pics but only 5 made the cut? Sounds about right. → lando.jpg: @alex_albon You have NO IDEA how hard it was. I fought for my life.

fan4: We waited FOUR MONTHS for a post and he drops this. WORTH IT.

fan5: The way he disappeared from this account just to come back and be the clingiest boyfriend.

danielricciardo: Posting like an art student in love. Proud of you. → lando.jpg: @danielricciardo Let me be romantic in peace. 😭

victoriadayman: You take good photos, I’ll give you that. → lando.jpg: @victoriadayman High praise, I’ll take it. 🙏🏼

fan6: Can’t believe we went from “I don’t know her” to this level of simping. Character development.

f1tea: this man has not posted a single thing on here in MONTHS and then comes back with a dissertation on how in love he is.

mclaren: This is not what we meant by ‘keep your focus during the off-season,’ Lando. → lando.jpg: @mclaren Priorities. 😌

f1wagsdaily: We have officially reached the “boyfriend soft-launching on the film camera account” stage. 🫡

lanmelieupdates: THE FACT THAT HE DIDN’T POST HERE SINCE OCTOBER AND BROUGHT IT BACK FOR HER IM SOBBING

georgerussell63: You mean to tell me you took 500 photos and she only let you post THESE? → ameliedayman: @georgerussell63 you should’ve seen the ones he TRIED to post 💀 → lando: @ameliedayman baby they were ART 😤

elysiadayman: Insufferable. Both of you. → ameliedayman: @elysiadayman this sounds like jealousy 🫶🏼

lando: I forgot to mention you’re also the most perfect human alive. → ameliedayman: @lando you’re embarrassing me in front of the entire world. keep going.

fan7: Not even trying to hide it, man’s been obsessed since DAY ONE. → fan8: @fan7 we love a loyal king.

maxfewtrell: Sickening levels of PDA, even for you. → lando.jpg: @maxfewtrell cry about it.

69 notes · View notes