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murderofravens · 6 months ago

Text

DUSK TILL DAWN

pairing: hwang inho/young-il/frontman x fem reader.

part: 1/3 [finished]

warnings: age gap (reader is 20, inho is in his late 40s) slowburn. oral fixation. thigh riding. plot with porn. yearning. sexual tension. canon compliant. slight infantilization. no y/n used.

summary: he promised that you will make it out alive. he will make sure of it, no matter what it takes.

word count: 6.5k

SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

please ignore any mistakes.

as you wipe the blood from your face, the reality of your situation sets in. you never thought you'd get used to the smell of blood— much less the sight of it. or the texture. and now you're covered in it. the white of your uniform splattered with crimson, the metallic smell of it almost overwhelming. in a situation like the one you're in, you can only laugh. the mere sight of blood used to make you feel faint; make you want to throw up because you're squeamish. now you're covered in it from head to toe.

it's not yours. it's of the people they shot dead during the second game.

you barely remember how you made it out alive. the second one was all thanks to your team— thanos and nam-gyu were the closest to your age, and teaming up with them worked in your favour. your age and gender was a liability to the others, but they were kind enough to take you in. or perhaps they were thinking with their dicks. would it really matter either way?

but with the way they act, you're not sure if you want to continue being in a team with them. especially since thanos keeps trying to woo you with his poor rapping skills. they're way too loud and reckless for you, and you're scared they might get you killed. they're not willing to give up the game anytime soon, either.

then there's the first game— you're alive, because of 456. that crazy man who supposedly had played the games before. if it wasn't for him pulling you behind his back, you would've left the premises in a cardboard box. especially because you fucking sneezed as soon as the doll turned back.

since then, you've decided you don't want to play this game anymore. 456 has been desperately trying to change the other's mind— but they're greedy and insistent. you pressed the cross for his sake, and for the others, and for yourself. hell, you can live in debt, but what use is that money if you die trying? you're not that much of a hard worker. you value your life above anything else.

you walk over to their team— 456, and his two loud team members. another man is sitting there— player 001. the one who ruined your chance of going home on the first vote. he seems ordinary, but you know of him because you saw him beat the shit out of thanos. that was another reason you decided to abandon that team— you could not be seen with a bully, or a loser. as you approach him, you give him a slight nod of acknowledgement, which he returns. you turn your attention to 456, and thank him profusely for what he did for you. he's kind, you'll give him that. you like kind people.

"if you don't mind me asking—" a voice interrupts, and you look over your shoulder. it's player 001. he looks at you curiously. "how old are you?"

"old enough." you retort cheekily. he doesn't look amused as he cocks his head to the side.

"i'm curious as to why a little kid like you would compromise herself for money."

that shuts you up. you're offended, to say the least. who is he to call you a little kid? the entire team also looks on, seemingly baffled. the question makes sense. you're sure you're the youngest out of all players. and people can tell because you look it too. you don't really know how to respond, so you just look on with a frown, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

"forgive me—" he lets out an awkward chuckle, "i didn't mean it the wrong way. i'm just worried."

you give him an uneasy smile, rubbing the back of your neck. the others go back to their conversations, and you shrug. he shoots a glance towards gi-hun before sitting back down and shifting slightly, as if making room for you. you take a seat beside him. there's silence before he glances at the symbol on your jacket— the cross.

"i'm sorry." he says with a small smile, looking straight ahead, "you wanted to go home but you had to continue because of me. i put a kid in danger."

"i'm not a kid," you huff softly, straightening up, "i'm twenty. but yeah, you should be sorry."

you give him a small smile to ensure he knows that the last line is lighthearted. he seems to understand and returns it.

"dont worry about it," you sigh, fiddling with the zip of your jacket, "im sure you had your reasons. just like i have mine for coming here."

"and your parents?" he asks. he's so polite, it warms your heart. polite and soft spoken. and visibly tough. probably some officer, you think, judging by his skills you previously saw.

"that's what i need the money for." you sigh, leaning back against the bunker. "i need enough money to establish myself. continue my studies. bring my mom and my sister to come live with me. settle off my father's debts because he's a coward who decided to pass down his sins onto his daughter."

he raises his eyebrows, and you take a sharp breath. there's a moment of silence between you two— you think for a moment, and feel your eyes get slightly glassy. you're not going to cry in front of a stranger. you put on a brave face. "if i die here, my mother—"

he stares at you silently, before putting a comforting hand on your shoulder, interrupting your cursed sentence. "you'll make it out alive."

the doors open, and the staff comes in again. they reveal the number of players left, showcase the money that each person would get, and then the voting starts again.

this time, player 001 doesn't disappoint you. he goes first, and clicks on the cross. the hope it gives you eventually shatters as more and more players begin to vote in favour of continuing the game. you see 456 get increasingly agitated as he begins to make his way towards the front of the crowd. before he can speak, he's interrupted.

001's voice rings out loud and authoritative, and worried. he reprimands the voters in favour, calls them out on their selfishness.

"we'll all die if we keep playing!" he chastises the crowd urgently. "you have to survive first, or there won't be a next step—"

"there's no next step for us!" he's interrupted by player 100. a stout old man who had been at odds against 456 since the start— you remember him having 10 billion won in debt. it makes you snicker. he eggs on the crowd. "with that money, we won't be able to pay our debts. we need to play one more game, then the money will increase to 240 million. with that we can pay atleast a little of our debts! isn't that right!?"

"you're going to die trying!" you snap, making your way to the front of the crowd. you glare at player 100, at all his little supporters cheering at the back. "your greed is going to get you killed. how can you be so confident to say that you'll survive the next game? what if you die?"

"you shut up, young lady!" he hisses, mouth scrunching bitterly. "is that how you speak to your elders? your brain is too small to comprehend real life problems. we can't continue with our lives with that little money!"

"continue your lives?" a laugh bubbles out of your throat. "look at that greying head of yours, you barely have a life ahead of you! why don't you let us live ours?!"

that seems to have ticked him off, because he quite literally turns red as he takes a threatening step towards you.

"what did you just say?"

"i said—" you step forward, shooting him a challenging glare, "you're too old to be playing children's games. vote wisely and let us go home."

he lets out a snarl before trying to lunge at you, but you're pulled back as player 001 steps between the two of you. like a wall. he looks at the old man, eyes cold, his voice low. "that's enough."

since the incident with thanos, nobody has really tried anything with 001. it's obvious enough they're intimidated by him, and they don't want to be on the receiving end of his wrath. 100 doesn't either, with the way he collects himself and steps back, embarrassed. you look over 001's shoulder, make eye contact with the old man and shoot him a taunting smile. you know it's childish, but you've resented him from the start.

before the old man can say anything, player 001 drags you to the side where you can't argue with people anymore. and the voting continues.

"you can't talk to people like this," he says lowly, gaze focused on the crowd. staring at something that you can't figure out. "you never know what they might do."

you huff bitterly. you know what he means.

"i don't care. i fucking hate bullies."

"potty mouth." he chastises, but theres a smirk on his face. he's teasing. you chuckle.

"remember you need to get out of here alive." he repeats, looking at you with an intensity that is almost terrifying. "you can't do that if you keep this up."

"jeez, okay dad." you joke, rolling your eyes. your words make him smile lightly.

"thanks for having my back there." you tell him sincerely. he looks at you for a bit before nodding in acknowledgement.

the voting ends, and they announce that the games will continue tomorrow. it makes your heart drop.

that night, you feel uneasy when you try to sleep. your clothes stick to your skin, and the side of your face keeps itching. with an irritated grumble, you get off the bunker and walk over to your new friend's side. you squint your eyes before looking for 001— and when you find him, you gently shake him.

"are you sleeping?" you whisper.

he opens his eyes, wincing slightly before sitting up. his voice is hushed as he responds, "not anymore. what is it?"

you bite your lower lip nervously before reluctantly asking, "will you go to the restroom with me? i'm kinda scared to go alone."

he blinks at you, confused. you continue out of sheer desperation.

"those guards just stare weirdly with their weird little masks and it makes me nervous." you hope your voice doesn't shake as you speak. "last time one of them kept knocking on the door while i was in the washroom and it just— scared the shit out of me. and my face is itching and i really need to go. please?"

he listens patiently. for a moment you think he'd decline but he just sighs and nods, and you cheer just a little as he steps out and follows you to the door. you bang on it, loudly telling the guards that you need to go. one of them opens the sliding window, and then immediately opens the door. it makes you feel strange, because usually it takes a lot more effort to convince them. either way, you're grateful.

you know your better option would've been to take one of the girls with you, but the sad fact is you haven't had the chance to get friendly with any of the female players yet. and for some reason, player 001 makes you feel a sense of safety and security that is almost strange— you feel at ease around him.

"i'll be in the men's room," he tells you, and you nod. he shoots a glance to the guard standing outside the women's restroom before walking away. you quickly go inside, and the first thing you do is splash water on your face.

you quickly clean the blood off your skin, holding back the urge to cry. you scrub at your cheeks till you're sure you can scratch the itch away for good. your nails dig a little too deep, and a little blood oozes out of the scratches on the side of your face. you clean that too, and then try to scrub the splatters of blood off your t-shirt. it's white, and you have no soap— so the stains remain. a faint reminder. you take your time, and anticipate the knocking— but it never comes.

you look in the mirror, at your tired face and sunken eyes, before giving yourself a nod and stepping out. 001 is waiting for you outside, looking to the side. he gives you an odd look as you step out, before walking alongside you.

"are you alright?" he asks gently, concerned. kind as ever.

you look at him again, give him a nod. "thank you."

when you two reach the room, he returns the smile with one of his own.

as you make your way to the bunker, he grabs your shoulder, "why don't you start sleeping on our side?" he says quietly, "join the team. there's a bed near mine. you won't feel so scared that way."

you blink, trying to see his face in the darkness. the offer is enticing— and most of all, it warms your heart.

"really?" you ask hopefully.

"really." he says kindly.

you follow him to the bunker, and he covers the railing with his hand to avoid you getting hurt as you bend down to get into the bed. he looks at the slightly wet patches on your shirt— blinks before getting a bedsheet and putting it over you. "get some sleep. we got a game to play tomorrow."

you smile softly at him. as he turns to get into his own bed, you grab his hand. it's warm against yours— big and rough. you don't allow your mind to drift that way. it's not right. he looks at you, gaze questioning.

"thanks again," you say softly, "it means a lot to me."

he leans down a little to ruffle your hair before going back to his bed and laying down. you close your eyes and drift to sleep— unaware that he stays up, thinking.

breakfast is boring— bread and milk. you sit on the bed, scowling. player 456 is surprised as he sees you there, before you two share understanding smiles. you bow a little and he bows back before going along with his friend. 001 comes to sit by you then, munching on his own breakfast.

"i miss home," you mumble, "how am i supposed to survive on just this? it's not even chocolate milk."

001 laughs, "don't worry, you can have whatever you want once you get out of here."

"will i?"

he looks at you, raising his eyebrows. you take his silence as a cue to continue, "im scared i'll die in here."

he looks down, before shifting to be closer to you. "you made it this far, didn't you?"

you look at him, voice getting shaky. "and what if i dont make it till the end? what if i die here and my family thinks i abandoned them? i don't want to die. i haven't even lived my life yet."

his expression is hard to read. "you'll make it out of here alive," he tells you with conviction, "ill make sure of it."

your lips wobble as you stare at him, and he smiles before poking you in the nose. "finish your food. you need the energy for the next game. we'll make it out alive, then we'll try to get the voters on our side and go home. sound good?"

you snort, rolling your eyes before nodding. "sounds good."

he gives you his bread then, tells you to eat more. when you protest, he sends a warning glare your way— the one with a quirked eyebrow and a knowing gaze. you roll your eyes, and happily eat it.

you were hungry. perhaps he can tell things like that. you're just grateful.

today, you decided to be a little rebellious. when you first joined the games, you used to spend a long time in the bathrooms— analyzing, looking for a way out. during that time, you'd discovered that one of the screws in the ceiling vent was loose. you hadn't really bothered checking it before, but since it's daytime and you have some time before the next game, you decide to explore.

your hairclip works— the screws were not tightly fixed, so it unscrewed easily. you'd contemplated checking it out last night, but you didn't want to take any risks, especially since player 001 was with you. so now whatever you do, the responsibility will be yours.

when the bathroom gets empty and all the women leave, you pull it down and try climbing up. it's moments like these that you can pride yourself on your agility— work that usually required two people, you could do alone. with one leg on the flush and the other on the top of the cubicle, you climbed up, scratching the side of your arm slightly before finally getting in the vents. you groaned to yourself, and then started crawling inside. there were two ways to go— you chose the left one. you looked down, trying to understand the layout of the place where you were practically held hostage. you keep crawling, making sure not to make too much noise before finally seeing a place through the gaps that you hadn't seen before— you carefully remove the screws and pull it apart.

the place looks empty. the walls are all sorts of pink and green. you put your head down and look both ways, seeing a door at the end of the hallway. carefully, you climb down and lower yourself to the ground with a thump. your shoulder hurts a little. you stand up, and aim for the door. as soon as you begin walking, you hear footsteps. it's as if someone splashed cold water on you— you realize the grave mistake you just made. guards walk here with guns, and you made the impulsive decision to explore a dangerous place like this by yourself?

you look around, running towards the other end of the hallway. the footsteps get louder, and as you look over your shoulder, something grabs you. out of reflex, you go to scream, but a hand clamps down on your mouth, and your back collides with a hard chest.

"shh, it's me." the voice hisses. your wide eyes look up, scared, before realizing who it is.

player 001.

your chest heaves as you break out into a sweat, a tear rolling down your cheek. he keeps you in a tight hold, looking to the side, your breath dampening his hand. the footsteps suddenly become faint, as if walking away. your breaths sync together, and after a moment, he relaxes.

he takes his hand off your mouth before harshly twisting you to face him. his voice is hushed but angry, "what were you thinking?!"

"what are you doing here?" you whisper shakily at the same time.

"everyone was back in the room except you. i came to find you!" he chides, eyes hard. he shakes you slightly, "do you really plan to get killed like this? is this how you want to die? can you go one moment without being a reckless brat—"

his words make you want to cower in on yourself.

"i wanted to find a way out." you try to sound assertive, but your voice betrays you. your words come out panicked, "I wanted to help and— fuck— i got you in trouble too— you shouldn't have come looking for me! fuck— how are we gonna make it out of here?"

he sighs, squeezing his eyes shut before looking at you tiredly. "the game is about to start. we'll mix in with the crowd when they leave, i doubt they'll notice."

"are you sure it'll work?" you ask. you hear a faint announcement. the game is about to start.

he looks up at the speakers, alert. he grabs you tightly and drags you away with an air of confidence. "let's go."

you don't encounter any guards on the way back. it's strange, but you figure it's because they're all preparing for the next game. player 001's plan worked, because you two mixed in with the crowd, and the guards didn't notice. one of them turned back to look at you, and you panted, staring back at him. your heart raced, but you felt the presence of 001 next to you, and you felt at ease again. the guard looked away.

"i told you to stop being reckless." he says quietly, looking at 456 and 390, before looking back at you. your legs hurt from climbing so many stairs. "what would you have done if they found you?"

you swallow the lump in your throat, staring up at him intensely, eyes glassy. he saved your life. "i guess you stopped that from happening."

he clenches his jaw, his gaze flickering up and down your face before looking away. "i won't always be there to save you."

you look away, heart dropping. "thank you, 001."

"call me young-il."

you look up at him, blinking back tears, quirking an eyebrow as you two walk. "only if you allow me to add 'sir' at the end of it."

he chuckles, eyes crinkling. he has such a nice laugh. "why's that? respect?"

you nod, giving a little bow. "respect is very important in my culture as well. so thank you for saving my life, young-il sir."

he grins a little and pats your head. you thank him again, and decide you like him enough. so you tell him your name.

he tests it on his tongue, and you quite like the way he says it.

the next game had to be the most terrifying so far.

it was called mingle, and you had to run to the rooms in groups according to the number announced. things like these were where you got scared— where you had to group with people. in dangerous situations, you know people usually only look out for two types of people— themselves, and the ones dearest to them.

you were not dear to anyone here. you really should've interacted with more people.

the platform rotates, before the number is announced. six. your eyes widen and you frantically look around, but young-il is faster. he grabs you and drags you to the room with the rest of the team. you pant as the 30 seconds pass, and then look out the window in the door to see how many people were left— quite a few. your eyes widen as the red guards move forward with their guns raised.

young-il leaps forward and covers your eyes with his hand before pulling you into himself as the gunshots ring out— you flinch and shudder at every single one, breathing sharp and your entire frame trembling violently. when there is silence and the doors open, you look up. young-il gently lets go of you, looking around. he's panting too, and you look at him with the most crushed look on your face before he meets your gaze. he can tell what you want to know— why would you do that?

"you shouldn't have to see all this." he says quietly, adjusting his jacket and putting a little distance between you two. 456 pats your shoulder and makes sure people are okay before moving out. you just look at young-il for a while, but he simply looks around, seemingly lost in thought. as if fighting a war within himself. you wish you knew how to reassure him like he did with you, but you realize you barely know anything about him.

the entire floor is painted with blood. the sight makes you want to vomit. you walk carefully, but your foot slips in someone's blood and you begin to fall over. 456 catches you. "are you alright?"

instinctively, your gaze tries to find young-il but he's standing away. his head is lowered.

"yes, thank you." you give 456 a smile, before assuming your place on the platform again.

you play a few more rounds. you're lucky enough to have someone to team with each time— young-il and 456 don't let go of you even once. but then the voice runs out again, and they announce the number 3. this time, 456 is dragged along with the old woman and her son. you look around frantically, and meet young-il's panicked gaze with your own. you begin to run towards him, but two people grab you and drag you towards one of the rooms.

thanos and nam-gyu. you shriek at them, clawing at their arms and trying to run back out. what if young-il doesn't make it? what if something bad happens?

this time, you have no one to cover your eyes or ears. thanos and nam-gyu talk shit within themselves, and you look outside the little window, flinching with every gunshot ringing out, trying to pinpoint if it's young-il's body falling to the ground. you can't help the light sob erupting from your throat, and thanos chooses the wrong moment to come bother you.

"watcha looking for, señorita?" he laughs, poking your side, "is it your old man? did he finally—"

you turn to him and punch him in the face. he falls back and groans dramatically, rubbing the blood running down his nose. nam-gyu rushes to his rescue, giggling. they're both high as a kite. the doors open, and you rush out before they can bother you further.

you look around. 456 is with the rest of the team, but you can't find young-il. frantically, you look towards the dead bodies, heart pounding against your chest and head throbbing. suddenly, there's cheers from your team, and you look up to see young-il walking over with a bright grin on his face.

you don't know what compelled you to do it. you were acting on your emotions— overwhelmed by the relief you felt on the sight of his face. before you can even stop, you're dashing towards him and crashing into his body, wrapping your arms tightly around him.

he's shocked, that much is obvious by the way he tenses slightly. but then he returns the hug, wrapping his arms around you and placing one hand on your head, gently patting. "i told you we'd make it."

you choke on a soft sob, nodding, burying your head further into his chest, as if ready to climb inside him, "i thought you—"

he shushes you softly, voice gentle as he runs a hand through your hair. you can feel his heart racing against his chest too. you wonder if it's for the same reasons as you. "i'm okay."

you wish the game ended there. but there was one more round to go. as you rotated on the platform— the moment you were dreading finally happened as young-il predicted it. the number announced was two.

you were ready to die there. things seemed to happen in slow motion— 456 took his best friend 390, 149 was dragged by her son. you didn't get the chance to see who took who next, because young-il had grabbed your hand and was dragging you towards one of the rooms. there were only fifty rooms— the first one you two got to was taken. he dragged you to another with a mere ten seconds left.

you sighed in relief as you got in, before seeing another man was already there. he was shaking in fear, and you jumped at the harshness of young-il's voice when he ordered him to get out. when the other player refused, young-il lunged at him and put him in a headlock.

your eyes widened and you stepped forward, panic stricken but he looked right at you and called your name, "close your eyes!"

you flinched. you looked at the man, then at young-il, before squeezing your eyes shut. you slid to the floor, pulling your knees to your chest as soon as you heard a 'crack' before opening your eyes.

the player was dead. young-il cracked his neck.

the timer finished at that exact moment, and young-il crawled over to you before pulling you into his chest. the gunshots rang out, and you flinched, sobbing.

young-il killed someone.

"i had to do it," he whispered against your hair, holding your head against his chest, "we both have to make it out alive. i had to do it. you know that right?"

you wanted to believe him, you really did. but in that moment, you felt scared of him for the first time.

the doors opened, and the game finished.

while you wanted to revel in your victory, the incident during mingle had rattled you to your core. the others checked up on you, especially 388 and 456. young-il maintained some distance. you could feel like he thought it's what you wanted. but you could really use his comfort. you just don't know how to talk to him again without being nervous. you force yourself to relive your previous interactions with him— he's still the same young-il who has saved you and comforted you countless times.

he did what he had to do to ensure your survival. that wasn't something you could hold against him. not when both of your lives were on the line.

the voting this time was just as challenging. you made your way to the front of the crowd, praying that they'd choose wisely this time. you need to go home.

one of the players in the old man's team showed you the finger before clicking the 'o' button. the action made your eye twitch, and you grit your teeth before straightening up to attack that guy and scratch his face off, but a hand to your chest held you back.

if looks could kill, young-il's glare could've sent that guy home in a body bag. as the votes in favour of continuing the game increased, you pushed his hand off you and addressed the crowd, "have you all lost your fucking minds?!"

their chitter chatter stopped and they looked at you. you clench your jaw, "after losing so many people out there you still want to play? what the fuck is wrong with you people? are human lives that invaluable to you?"

player 100 steps forward, insufferable as always. "don't you see how much money we're getting for each person? it could settle our debt! we can't give up after how far we've come."

"you're gonna die!" you snap, pointing at him, "you could take this money and go home and be happy instead of risking your life for something that is not assured to you! why won't you listen?! i want to go home!"

the others in favour of terminating the game start chanting with you, a string of 'i want to go home' echoing across the room.

player 100 glares, urging his own team to chant against you. he looks towards young-il, yells something along the lines of, "look after your fucking kid!" before the barell of a gun presses against the back of your head. the whole room freezes, and so do you.

"disruptions against a democratic vote will not be excused." the robotic voice calls out. for a second you think this is it. you look at young-il. if you die here, you'd prefer the man who saved your life to be the last person you see. he glares at the guard, his jaw clenching. the guard lowers the gun and steps back and you let out a breath of relief.

you immediately saunter over to him, gritting your teeth. the vote is a tie— and they announce the next voting to be held tomorrow.

456 says there's about to be a fight. the rest of the team got busy setting up a barricade— and you didn't get the chance to talk to your player. you knew his concern though, when he made sure to especially hide your side of the bed with two mattresses.

you play with the hem of your shirt as you sit in your bed by your lonesome. your food sits by you, untouched. you dont feel like eating. the weight on the bed shifts, and young-il appears into view.

"you're not eating."

you swallow the lump in your throat. "i don't feel like it."

he contemplates, eyes lowered before he looks at you again. "im sorry you had to witness that. I don't want you to be scared of me."

you want to cry. "im not." you whisper, "you.. you had to do what you had to do. to save us."

he blinks, nodding.

"back there, i thought that was it. it's over." you chuckle bitterly. "but you saved me again. you acted on impulse. i could never resent you for it."

your eyes are bloodshot as you look at him again. fat tears roll down your cheeks, and he frowns. he sighs before leaning closer, brushing the tears away. "why are you crying?"

"i wouldn't have survived this far if it wasn't for you." you whisper, voice cracking. "promise me you wouldn't abandon me. promise me you won't die."

his gaze softens. he's silent for a bit, his hand coming to rest on your knee, "i promise."

you sniffle, wiping your tears away. a small smile appears on your face, "i punched thanos."

"thanos?" he frowns, confused before raising his eyebrows in recognition, "ah, the loud kid with the purple hair?"

you nod proudly. "he said something like 'did 001 finally die?' so i punched him."

he laughs heartily— face scrunching cutely, eyes crinkling. he shakes his head fondly before ruffling your hair again. "attagirl."

it makes you blush slightly and you smile, looking down at your lap. he grabs your dinner— the roll sitting next to you and unwraps it, taking out a piece before holding it out, "eat."

you snort before leaning forward and taking a bite. he looks at you for a while with that faraway look in his eyes, before wordlessly continuing to feed you the rest. the words go unsaid. 'what are we doing? why are we so comfortable with each other?'

some sauce sticks to the corner of your mouth. he raises his hand to hold your chin, his thumb gently wiping it off. your breath hitches.

neither of you protest when his thumb brushes across your bottom lip, gaze focused on it like he's hypnotized. he's thinking, mindlessly feeling the plush texture of it.

you've always been impulsive. especially in situations where you shouldn't be. it happens so naturally— how your lips part just slightly. and maybe he's impulsive too, because his thumb slips inside, and his breath hitches as soon as your lips wrap around his thumb.

his gaze raises to meet yours— and you blink almost dazedly. his thumb presses down on your tongue, and he calls out your name in the softest voice.

"i'm too old for you." he whispers, shaking his head in disapproval.

your eyes flutter, and you lean forward, grabbing hold of his wrist. he pulls his thumb out, and you almost whine in protest. to your utter delight, he replaces it with two of his fingers, and your eyes almost roll back as you crawl forward till you're situated on his lap, mouth stuffed with his index and middle finger. you suck on them enthusiastically. they're long and thick and perfect and you don't want them out of your mouth ever again. it elicits a soft moan out of him— and if you could put that sound on repeat for the rest of your life, you'd be happy.

he pulls his fingers out and grabs the back of your head, pulling you close till your foreheads press together. you try to lean forward, to capture his lips with your own. he chuckles slightly, eyes closed, playfully rubbing his nose against yours. you whine.

"so impatient." he whispers, and then his lips are colliding with yours. it would be embarrassing if someone were to catch you two like this— more so for him than for you. thankfully, the others are busy strategizing for the night, and are not looking for either of you.

you moan softly and he bites down on your bottom lip, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth. it's desperate and reckless and so full of spit— it makes you whimper into his mouth and he pulls you further into himself, as if telling you to shut up. his experience is obvious in the way he kisses, and you follow his lead. unknowingly, your hips start gently grinding against his thigh, and he lets out a soft hiss. he pulls away slightly, strings of saliva connecting your mouths. he licks it away.

"come on, sweetheart," he whispers, one hand coming down to help your hips grind against his thigh, "make yourself feel good— that's it, that's my good girl."

you moan softly, and his free hand clamps your mouth shut. he speeds his movement, clenching and unclenching the muscle of his thigh, guiding your hips to move faster against his lap. it's been so long since you've masturbated— and this is unarguably the hottest situation you've ever been in, with the hottest man you've ever seen. so you're already close. you cry out into his hand, your voice muffled. he understands what you mean and lets you move on your own speed then, pulling your head into the crook of his neck as he whispers soft words of praise into your ear.

the moment he calls you his good girl again, you cum. he muffles the sound with his hand, squeezing his eyes shut before he looks at you intensely. you collapse against him, slightly sweaty, your hands holding onto his shoulders as you cling to him. he runs his hand through your hair, breathing sharply. it's a small moment of bliss in the hell you've found yourself in.

soon, the lights go out, and dread settles in your stomach once you feel his body tensing. player 388 pulls one of the mattresses back slightly, hisses a quick "get under the bed!"

and the next game begins.

A/N: this was incredibly fun to write. i love writing him a little soft and fatherly, so deal with it. i might write a part 2 for this, if anyone wants that. this idea has been in my head for a while. i love him so, so much. this fic is my baby and i truly hope you guys like reading it as much as i liked writing it.

tags! @carolinevoight @lovers-roq @wildtigerlili @menabuser16 @deadlyobsessivfennec @watasinekoru @hanakokunzz @cowuies

#raven writes #frontman x reader #the frontman x reader smut #squid game x reader #hwang inho x reader #young-il x reader #squid game fanfic #lee byung hun x reader #the salesman x reader #player 001 x reader #frontman x you

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mossmx · 2 years ago

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me pumped and READY to explain what fandom is, just to get SLAMMED by the reality that they don't know wtf digital art is or how it works:

#madonna il panico nella mia testa quando ho realizzato che dovevo spiegare ancora più alla base #XD #I think I explained Both Very Badly #and I'm sure we'll get back to that #but like aasdfghjkl #living in a bubble is real folks!!#always remember that the average in your country is what it is #they didn't comment on Percival's dick size which is NOT a good sign #I'm still testing waters with this new one but like #;___; I take great pride in these cocks #lowest moment was when I was explaining about fandom and I was trying to think up a famous tv series they might know and all it came out wa #“like game of thrones”#XDDDDDDDDDD #god #me - usually completely surrounded by nerds- “let's think a tv series normies might know” = PANIC #I am like asdfghjkl #it has been a day FOR SURE #also THANK GOD i didn't put *all* the things there #we need like 3 sessions for the ones I showed this time only IMO #moss text #therapy stuff #not shaming them for not knowing eh!#just.... I forget how much a specialized thing it is #that general population barely knows about the tip of the iceberg!!

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charmedimsure · 6 months ago

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A WELCOME DISTRACTION || kang dae-ho

pairing: Kang Dae-ho x reader

summary: Dae-ho helps you learn to play Gong-gi

word count: 1.5k

warnings: squid game stuff, but other than than just fluff

A/N: I got the rules of the game from watching the show, so they could be wrong. I think it's gender neutral but lmk if it's not so I can fix it

It looks like you're going to spend at least another day here. You're going to have to play at least one more game. Despite voting to leave, the majority of people disagreed with you, and now you're stuck here. You may be drowning in student loan debt, but at least your alive, and, if you've learned anything positive from this experience, it is that life is full of opportunities.

You take your food from the masked men and find a small space in between the beds where you can be alone. You don't think you can eat right now, so you put those to the side and sit on your knees, pulling five small stones out of your pocket. When you need is a distraction, and this game could do it.

Across the room, Dae-ho winces as Jung-bae hits him in the shoulder, almost making him drop his milk.

"What?" Dae-ho says, annoyed.

"You're staring," Jung-bae says. Dae-ho gives him a confused look, to which he nods his head in your direction.

Dae-ho looks down at his feet as he feels heat rise in his face. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Jung-bae scoffs a laugh, looking at the former Marine. "Please. You cheered so loud when her team crossed the finish line I thought you're life was on the line, too." Jung-bae laughs at his own joke, Young-il laughing along.

Dae-ho rolls his eyes, finishing his milk and putting the carton down next to him. Sure he thinks you're cute, but this is no place for any of this stuff.

"You should talk to them," a quiet voice says. Dae-ho looks up to see Jun-hee looking at him.

Young-il nods. "She's right. We don't know how much longer we will be alive, you should speak now before you lose the chance."

Dae-ho looks back over at you. You're hunched over on the floor between beds, your back facing him. With a small surge of confidence, Dae-ho nods, standing up. He takes a few steps in your direction before second guessing himself, stopping in place. He nearly falls over as Jung-bae shoves him towards you.

As he gets closer to you, he can hear the sounds of something repeatedly hitting the hard floor, as well as soft curses coming from you.

"Are you alright?" he asks, standing by the entrance to the small alley between beds.

You gasp and look up at him, being too invested in what you were doing to notice someone coming up to you. Acting on instinct, you back yourself closer to the wall away from him.

Dae-ho puts his hands up. "I don't want to hurt you, just wanted to see what you were doing."

You take a look at his face and number. You remember seeing him yelling yesterday with his friend, as if he was a soldier. It had actually made you laugh, which was much needed in a place like this. You also thought he was kinda cute. Getting out of your defensive position, you shyly show him the small stones in your hand.

He furrows his brows and gets closer so he can have a better look, kneeling on the floor in front of you. He recognizes the rocks from the ground of the last game, but has no idea why you have them.

You see his confused look and sigh. "I was trying to play Gong-gi. I've never played before and it looked interesting." You let out a little laugh. "I'm not very good at it, though. I don't even know if I'm doing it right."

Dae-ho gives you a small smile. "I can show you, if you want."

You look up at him with wide eyes. "You know how to play?"

He grows a bit embarrassed and looks everywhere except for your face. "I have older sisters, we used to play when I was little."

Expecting you to laugh at him, he is surprised when you hold out the stones. He smiles and holds out his palm for you to place the rocks in, then moves back to make room between the two of you.

"You have to throw one of the pieces in the air as you grab the others, and you need to grab more as you go. You start with one each, then two, then three and one, then all four. After that, flip them onto the backside of your hand and catch them without flipping your hand over." He takes a deep breath as he rolls of the stones onto the floor. As nervous as he feels with you watching him, he knows he can do it. After all, he did just do it perfectly with guns pointed at him.

He quickly goes through the game, not dropping a single stone. When he makes the final catch and opens his palm for you to see, he finds your mouth open as you stare at his hand in awe.

"That was amazing," you say to him with a smile.

Dae-ho smiles and feels the heat rising to his face again. "You should see my sisters do it, they move so fast you can't even see what's happening," he chuckles, making you laugh. "Besides, I saw you do spinning top before. You wrapped it in seconds and got it to spin on the first try! I was always so bad at spinning top as a kid."

You smile shyly, feeling heat in your face. "It was my favorite game as a kid. I didn't have many toys, so I would play it for hours. I'd try to teach you, but I don't have a top."

Dae-ho smiles. "That's okay." He holds out his hand for you to take the stones. "You're turn to try."

You take the stones from him, scattering them onto the ground between you. You smile as you manage to get each singular one, but when you try to get two at once, you don't catch the stone in time. You let out a frustrated sigh, sitting back on your knees.

"You're doing good," Dae-ho reassures. "Try going for the ones that are closer together, and throw the stone a little higher to give you more time."

You nod at the advice and pick up the stones again. You get the first two, but lose it again as you try to get the second two. Though you get frustrated with yourself, Dae-ho never does, patiently watching you and giving you tips.

It takes more tries than you would like to admit, but you are finally able to make the final catch. You yell out in victory with a big smile on your face, and the man across from you does the same. You get a little shy as you see that your yells have got attention from the people around you, particularly that one judgmental old man who really has no right to judge anyone considering he has more debt than most people here combined.

When everyone looks away, you smile up at the man again as he hold him hand up for you to high-five.

"I feel so accomplished," you laugh, making him chuckle. "Thank you for helping me. It was nice to play a game and not have to worry for my life."

He smiles sadly. "I'm happy I could help. My name is Dae-ho."

You smile back at him and give him your name. "If we both get out of here, Dae-ho, I'll teach you how to get the top to spin every time."

"When," he says. You give him a confused look. "You said if we get out of here, but when we get out of here, I would like that very much."

You smile at him. "I'm looking forward to it."

Dae-ho spots your food sitting on the bed next to you and frowns. "You didn't eat?"

You look at it. "I wasn't hungry so I was saving it. I got so wrapped up in this game I forgot about it."

The man moves to get up. "I'll leave you to eat, then."

"You don't have to leave," you say quickly, making him stop and look at you. "I mean, I don't mind if you want to stay."

Dae-ho smiles and nods, sitting down again, this time next to you. As you eat, you both talk about yourselves, how you ended up here, your lives back home, anything that comes to mind.

"What are you going to do when you get out of here?" Dae-ho asks you when your food is long gone.

You sigh and shrug. "I'll pay off whatever debt that I can, but besides that, I really don't know." You look at him. "What about you?"

"I'll pay off my debts, too," he says. He takes a deep breath before looking at you, feeling his nerves rising. "I also think that I'd like to take you to dinner."

His nerves calm as he watches a smile slowly take over your face. "I'd like that."

Dae-ho smiles. "Then it's a date."

When it is time to go to sleep, Dae-ho can only think about how he is going to do everything he can to make sure the two of you get out of here alive.

#dae ho #player 388 #dae-ho #daeho x reader #dae ho x reader #dae-ho x reader #squid game #squid game 2 #squid game season 2 #kang dae ho #kang daeho #daeho

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maruflix · 6 months ago

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CAVE CANEM #oneshot #squidgame #thefrontman

Cave canem. Beware of dogs. In the ruthless games, there are countless hounds looking for prey. Oh Young-Il promises to be your shield, your shepherd, your guardian angel— but you soon find out that it’s often the unassuming ones who are the most dangerous.

feat. the frontman / hwang in-ho / oh young-il　　⎯⎯　wc. 2.5k

cw: female reader, yandere, unhealthy relationships, possessive & obsessive thoughts/behaviors, manipulation, squid game spoilers, i’ll use all of his names & nicknames here so don’t get confused, i do not condone yanderes irl, no beta we die like all 455 players in season 1

It’s funny how tragedy brings people together.

It has only been twenty two hours since you entered the twisted battle royale with 45.6 billion won dangled on top of you, but you’ve found companionship in fellow participants: Player 456 Seong Gi-hun, Player 388 Kang Dae-ho, Player 390 Park Jung-bae, and Player 001.

Oh, Player 001.

“How are your wounds?”

You look up to see Player 001 — or, as he introduced himself to you, Oh Young-il. His eyes gleam in worry as he takes in your appearance: hair disheveled, knee bruised, sleeves rolled up to reveal the scratches littering your hands.

You’re just glad you didn’t get killed during the Red Light, Green Light stampede.

“This is nothing,” you assured him with a genuine smile, “thank you for helping me.”

Young-il pauses. Then, as if remembering something, he reaches into his pockets and hands you a small carton of milk. “Here. You must be dehydrated.” He watches as you gratefully take it, instantly drinking the contents, “Don’t worry about the next game. We’ll get through it together.”

Tears are brimming in your eyes at the kind man’s encouragement. You let him take your hand and nod at him, smiling. “Thank you, Young-il-ssi.”

Young-il gives you one last smile before climbing back down to rejoin the rest of the group. His movements alerts Jung-bae, who mindlessly throws a glance his way.

Jung-bae instantly pauses. He knew from the start that Player 001 is not a simple man, but the expression on Young-il’s face is nothing short of terrifying, like a tiger eyeing its’ prey. He follows Young-il’s line of sight and finds you, curled on one of the beds.

A chill runs down his spine.

II.

You don’t know how you got through the Six-Legged Pentathlon, but you did.

Chosen as the one to play ddakji — it’s not like you sucked at it, but you were scared you would be a burden to your teammates — your hands couldn’t stop trembling.

The squares of ddakji felt like rocks in your hand, your shoulders heavy by the fear of dragging everyone down. Their encouragement and cheers merely heightened your anxiety.

That was, until a hand gently clasps your own. “Don’t think too much about it. You said you won more times than the ddakji guy, didn’t you?” Young-il’s eyes twinkle, his shoulders lax, as if he’s not currently playing for his life, “Well, you won’t receive slaps if you fail, so go wild.” It’s amazing how he manages to silence all your fears.

You flipped the ddakji on your first try.

III.

In-ho knew it from the start, but the reality of it still disgusts him. Humans are selfish creatures, blinded by greed, driven by instincts.

He sighs, looking at the results of the vote— 139 for ‘O’ and 116 for ‘X’. One hundred and thirty nine people marching to their own deaths like brainless maggots.

He sneaks a glance your way and sees that you’re shuddering. His heart drops to the pits of his stomach. Slipping away from Gi-hun, he makes his way to you. He keeps on surprising himself: joining Player 456 in the games, cheering with the others during the pentathlon, and now comforting you?

But In-ho is not one to ruminate over his actions too much. He knows what he wants, he gets what he wants, and right now all he wants is to hold you in his arms.

“Young-il,” your eyes instantly land on his and he wonders how it will feel to hear you call him by his real name, “I’m scared. I’m so scared, I don’t want to die!”

He’s beside you the next second, catching you before you can fall to the ground, strong arms wrapped securely on your waist. In-ho falters for a fraction of a second, but his hand quickly shoots up to caress your hair.

Receiving the kindest act for the first time in many years, you can’t help but to cry in his warm embrace, letting out all your frustration and fear. His touches are so tender, so serene, and being enveloped in his tall figure makes you feel protected.

In-ho calms your sobs with gentle shushes, rubbing circles on your back. He was unsure then, but his heart is determined now— he wants you, he’s got to have you, and there’s nothing under the seven heavens that will stop him.

He shudders at the thought of having you all to himself. In-ho can barely control himself right now, when you fit so good in his arms, your skin brushing against his. What would it feel like? To have you next to him every second of every day? He’d shower you with all of him— all his riches, all his affection, all his time.

First, the two of you will have to exit the game safely.

His grip on you tightens as he lifts his gaze from your trembling figure to the several pink guards stationed near the door. In the distance, they straighten their posture in alarm.

Even among the many faces of the players, they can locate their boss in a heartbeat — the Front Man is still the Front Man, even if he’s amusing himself by playing dress up. The way he carries himself is so telling, they have no idea how the players are none the wiser to the wolf hiding amongst the sheep.

... And right now, their superior’s glare speaks volumes about what he’s conveying.

A warning.

IV.

‘One more game,’ they said, ‘it’ll be fun,’ they said.

The rotating stage under your feet is spinning at a controlled pace, yet you feel like you’re going to throw up. The light feels blinding, the gasps from the participants making your head spin even more.

Amidst all the chaos, Young-il’s hand clasping yours serves as an anchor.

“You okay?” His voice is as gentle as ever, unworried.

Even Gi-hun, the former winner of the games, is not exempt to the anxiety and apprehension that shadows the rest of them, but Young-il has never showed any signs of stress— like he has a safety net... or like he’s very sure of his own abilities.

You nod, grateful that he’s allowed you to stick by him like glue all this time. He squeezes your hand in encouragement, smiling.

“Two.” The woman’s voice announces cheerily. In an instant, the crowd erupts in disarray.

Young-il looks around. “Stick close to me,” he murmurs before pulling you with him towards one of the rooms. Not wanting to be a burden to him, you quickly fall in line, matching his steps. His back is very comforting as he cleverly navigates the chaotic hall, avoiding the other players.

Just when the two of you reached the door, a player appears, crashing into the two of you and sending you tumbling away from Young-il. Your world spins as you struggle to pick yourself up, searching for him.

Thankfully, you locate him almost immediately. A few steps away from the door, Young-il is strangling your attacker. “Get in! I’ll be right behind you!”

Fueled by adrenaline, you nod frantically, moving to enter the room. But there’s already another person inside.

True to his word, Young-il quickly scrambles to the room, slamming the door behind him. He immediately takes note of the anomaly, his expression dark.

“I-I was here first!” The stranger sputtered, shuffling away from Young-il.

There are loud bangs coming from the other side of the door and you quickly hold onto the lock, tears now falling from your eyes. “Sorry!” You yell, ”Sorry!”

“Five. Four. Three.” The countdown continues mercilessly.

You look back, “The other guy—!” but your words are caught in your throat.

Young-il has the man in a chokehold. For a moment you had no idea why he’s handling the guy so aggressively when it’s obvious that he’s more scared of the two of you than the two of you are of him.

“Two.”

“Young-il!”

“One.”

CRACK!

You scream. The man slips from Young-il’s hold, limp.

Lifeless.

Young-il’s gaze meets yours. There’s an emotion you can’t quite place on them, but it’s quickly replaced by that of horror. “I-I had to do it.” Tears start to brim on the corner of his eyes, his hands visibly shaking, “I had to-” he desperately crawls away from the dead man as he covers his face in terror, “I’m a monster, I-”

Crying, you kneel next to him, pulling him into an embrace, “No, you’re not,” assuring him in between sobs, “it’s this game, it’s the game’s doing, it’s not your fault!”

Breath haggard, In-ho rubs your head comfortingly. You didn’t even realize that he has long since stopped crying. He covers your ears, knowing by now that the sound of gunshots horrifies you, and glances at the body of the man he just killed.

You watched him kill one guy and you get this rattled? He sighs quietly.

For you, he would kill a thousand more.

V, PART ONE.

“Hey girl,” a voice booms from behind you, catching you by surprise.

You let go of your hand that’s holding Young-il’s, turning your head to address the stranger.

“Saw you from afar and I can’t believe I didn’t talk to you sooner.” The purple haired man wastes no time getting into your space, running a hand through his hair. “D’ya know who I am? Because I wanna know who you are.”

You stiffen up. Of course you know him. Who didn’t? The number one ambassador of the ‘O’ team, aka the people who wish to continue the games, the outspoken menace, Thanos.

Thanos catches sight of something behind you and wavers before looking back at you. “A-anyway. I’ll see you around. Team’s always open, baby!” He exclaims, but it’s obvious that he’s trying to hide his nervousness.

You look back to see Young-il smiling at you. “Wonder what that’s about.”

The people here freaks you out. You sigh. “I know, right?”

In-ho hums, his finger treading along the sharp edges of the fork.

V, PART TWO.

The bathroom is a mess— team ‘O’ and team ‘X’, warring against each other, fueled by the actions of a junkie who’s high out of his mind.

In the middle of it all, Hwang In-ho calmly makes his way to a purple haired man who is slumped on the ground, yelling at his friend.

“Get him, get that sucker! He tried to kill me, man!”

A dark shadow looms over Thanos, and he looks up in terror, recognizing In-ho immediately. “W-what are you-?”

In-ho eyes him coldly before swinging down.

The cold gleam of a fork is the last thing Thanos sees before it penetrates his neck.

VI.

The fire of revolution burns bright behind all of you. Your hands may tremble, but your rifle is secure in your arms. All those first person shooter games are finally coming in handy as you manage to actually shoot down several guards.

“You okay?!” Young-il questions in panic, “You’re doing a good job! It’s gonna get more dangerous afterwards, but I can’t leave you behind!”

You nod, reassuring him, following him up the stairs with two other men in tow. Right now, you are brother-in-arms, comrades, fighting for your freedom.

Young-il halts, sensing the presence of a guard, before speaking into the comm, “Gi-hun-ssi, we found it.” he holds out an arm in front of you like a shield, “Start attacking and draw their attention. Then we’ll hit them from behind.”

Your knees tremble in fear and anticipation. Somehow, with Young-il on your side, you feel like this ragtag team of freedom fighters can actually succeed.

“Okay, got it!” Gi-hun’s invigorated reply came from the other side.

Young-il pockets the comm, nodding to the two men. They nod back in response and move forward. He quickly moves in front of you, signaling you to stay behind him.

Just when you thought about how reliable he is, two sharp gunshots resonates in the air.

Is it over?

You peek from behind Young-il’s back only to be met by the horrific sight of Player 015 and Player 047 sprawled on the ground, choking on their own blood.

Young-il’s rifle is still pointed at the two of them, his eyes cold.

Who is this person? You scramble to get away from him, alarm bells ringing in your head. Did he miss his shot? Did I see wrong? Is there a guard in front of him?

“Young-il-ssi, what’s going on?” came Gi-hun’s distressed voice from the comm, “Are you shooting?”

You watch in horror as Young-il calmly reloads his rifle before squatting down and glancing your way. “Gi-hun-ssi, I’m sorry.” Like a seasoned actor, the unscathed Young-il puts on a strained voice, “It’s all over. They got us too.”

Gi-hun’s voice is blurred as you fall to your knees, finally coming into terms with the betrayal of the person you’ve come to trust the most.

Young-il momentarily looks away from you to shoot the two men one more time. Cold, unfeeling, his fingers steady like he’s done this countless times before.

This is not the Young-il you know.

When it’s all over, several pink guards march up to him, a coat and a black mask in tow. Young-il (?) lifts a hand up to stop them, turning to finally address you.

Your breath gets caught in your throat, your fingers desperately trying to locate the trigger on your rifle, but the man in front of you is much quicker. He yanks the rifle from your trembling hands, unloading the bullets and kicking the weapon away as you back away to the wall, shivering in fear.

He sighs, taking the coat from one of the guards before kneeling down to your height. “I won’t hurt you. You know that, right?”

Confused, you can only gape at him. “W-who are you..?”

“Hwang In-ho. My real name.” he offers, tenderly wiping a tear from your cheek, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to lie to you. I’ll explain everything, if you’ll just give me a chance..?”

In one swift motion, he wraps his coat around your shoulders. You look at his eyes, as tender and unchanging as ever— then it dawns on you: he has always been this way.

“Mr. Front Man, sir, everything is ready.”

You let In-ho pull you to your feet, his touch as comforting as ever as the two of you pass by countless guards. They make way for the two of you, the hierarchy crystal clear when not one of them dare to step out of line.

You’ve been such a fool. All the signs were there, the reason why Player 001 carries himself with such grace as if he’s untouchable. How the guards say things about ‘not tolerating actions that will disrupt the votes’ and yet kept quiet when it’s Player 001’s turn to speak his mind. The way they would shuffle away from him slightly whenever he walks—

In-ho turns to look at you, his eyes kind, “Do you trust me?”

Yet, you can’t bring yourself to say no.

note: i know i appeared on the dash absolutely losing it over the recruiter/the salesman/ddakji guy (he’ll get his own fic after this don’t worry) but i took one look at this man with his hair down and i fell into a SPIRAL. this is totally a passion project. front man ftw 🙆‍♀️

#maru writes...#squid game #squid game season 2 #squid game x reader #squid game fanfic #squid game frontman #the front man #front man #player 001 #hwang in ho #oh young il #young il #in ho x reader #frontman x reader #the frontman x reader #hwang in ho x reader #player 001 x reader #young il x reader #lee byung hun

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lesmisscraper · 1 year ago

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Valjean and Cosette's official introduction to the Petit-Picpus convent. Volume 2, Book 8, Chapter 8.

Clips from <Il cuore di Cosette>.

#Les miserables #les mis #My Post #Cosette #The Lark #Little Mlle. Lanoire #Convent Student #Jean Valjean #Father and daughter #Owl and Wren #Fauchelevent #Convent Family #Gardeners and a student #Mother Innocente #The Convent #Javert #The Wolf and the Convict #I really love they becoming a family together...!#But I also feel sorry for Cosette at the same time.#As the nuns said that she'd become ugly but remember what Mr. Hugo mentioned about her earlier?#The abuse made her ugly!#This is children's cartoon show. But remember that she was abused 6 years and was just in panic during 24 hours in the Brick.#So I can guess her face was not in that good condition like cartoon show.#Suffered with abuse and sorrow and maybe some external wounds too.(In a brighter sight though. Living with her father probably worn out.)#And according to Mr. Hugo's mention the nuns trying to make the scarred soul into a nun...#What do you think about this?#The Brick #Il cuore di Cosette #Les Mis Letters

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greengoblinswifey · 6 months ago

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Game of Fate—Hwang In-ho/Front Man x Fem!Reader

summary— After discovering that you, a girl he had a one night stand with entered the deadly games, the Front man disguised as a player 001, infiltrates the games under the guise of monitoring Gi-hun but his focus becomes protecting you at all costs. based on this request.

warnings— none! fluff undertones, slight angst, season 2 spoilers, usual squid game chaos, in-ho being protective and possessive(he has a heart) <3

In-ho sat in his private quarters, the screens in front of him displaying the death and desperation of the games. His attention drifted from one player to the next until his eyes fell on you. A bolt of recognition shot through him. It was you, his one night stand from years ago, someone who had left a mark on him in ways he hadn’t expected.

He remembered every detail about you, your wit, your boldness, and the way you made him feel alive, even if just for one night. It infuriated him to see other players whispering in your ear or lingering too long in your space. His possessiveness surprised even him. You had been the best fuck he ever had, and seeing you here now stirred something he couldn’t ignore.

That’s when he made a decision.

By the time you met “Young-il,” the newest player in the games, you couldn’t place why he seemed familiar. His face was shadowed by the chaos of your surroundings, and you had no time to dwell on it.

“You,” he said, approaching you during a moment of uneasy rest.

Your eyes narrowed. “Do I know you?”

“You could say that,” have a sly smile, “Call me Young-il.”

You tilted your head, trying to recall where you might have met him. There was something about him, his confidence, his presence, that struck something. Still, you shrugged it off. “Okay, Young-il. Hope you know what you’re doing here.”

“I’m sure I’ll manage.”

You didn’t realize he was watching your every move.

During one of the more grueling games, you faltered. The sound of gunfire rang out as players dropped like flies, and your heart pounded. You’d made a critical mistake, one that should have cost you your life.

You braced yourself for the inevitable, but nothing happened. The guards moved past you, their guns silent. You stood frozen, confused, but grateful.

In-ho, hidden behind the mask of a player, allowed himself the briefest sigh of relief. His influence was subtle but effective, you were still alive, and he’d made sure of it.

Later, as the remaining players rested, he approached you again.

“You were lucky out there,” he said, sitting down next to you.

“Mhmm. Don’t know how I pulled that off,” you said as you glanced at him, still shaken from the day’s events.

“You’ve got more lives than a cat.”

“Or someone’s watching over me,” you joked.

He smiled faintly, hiding how true your words were.

As the games continued, his protectiveness grew. When another player made a sly comment about your appearance, he was quick to cut in.

“Keep your eyes on the prize,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The player backed off, muttering under his breath, while you arched an eyebrow.

“You don’t need to fight my battles,” you said sassily.

“I wasn’t fighting,” he said as he leaned closer.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the faint smile tugging at your lips.

In-ho found himself conflicted. He hadn’t planned to step into the games, let alone risk his identity. But seeing you here, vulnerable yet determined, pulled at something deep within him. And when you finally cornered him one night, your wary gaze demanding answers, he knew he couldn’t stay in the shadows forever.

“You’re not just another player, are you?” you asked, your voice steady but your eyes searching his.

He hesitated, then smiled. “What do you think?”

“I think you’ve got secrets. But shit, me too. Let’s survive this first.”

“Deal,” he said.

He couldn’t stop himself from watching you, protecting you, and falling deeper into the very thing he tried to avoid. The very thing he said he wasn’t there for. Wasn’t he there to target Gi-hun?

Young-il seamlessly integrated himself into the group with Gi-hun and the rest, his calm demeanor and quick thinking making him reliable. Despite his apparent calmness, his sharp gaze constantly flicked to you. He positioned himself strategically, always close enough to step in if anything went wrong.

Gi-hun often exchanged glances with Jung-bae, silently questioning why Young-il seemed more concerned about you than the games themselves. But they never voiced their suspicions, after all, his protectiveness benefited the group.

Young-il wasn’t subtle about his priorities. When Thanos, one of the annoying and aggressive players, approached you with a smirk and a comment about how “a pretty thing like you shouldn’t be here,” Young-il’s jaw tightened.

“Walk away,” he said, his voice cold.

“Relax, man. Just talking—” Thanos chuckled nervously.

“I said, walk away.”

Before Thanos could respond, Young-il took a step forward, fists clenched, his eyes dark. Thanos scrambled back, muttering curses under his breath.

You crossed your arms and shot him a look. “I didn’t need you to step in. I could’ve handled that.”

“I wasn’t going to let him near you.”

When the lights went out, the dormitory turned into chaos. You barely managed to sleep, anxiety gnawing at you. But Young-il stayed awake, his body perched against the wall near your makeshift bed. His eyes, though heavy with exhaustion, remained trained on the room, scanning for any sign of danger.

At one point, you stirred, catching his silhouette in the dim light. “You’re not sleeping?”

“Not tired,” he lied, his voice soft.

“You should rest. I’m fine.”

“I’ll rest when this is over. Someone has to make sure you’re safe,” he said as he shook his head.

His words lingered in the air, and you turned away, confused by his constant concern.

When food rations arrived, Young-il always ensured you had enough, sometimes splitting his share without you noticing. If you hesitated to eat, he nudged the portion toward you.

“Eat,” he insisted once, placing his biscuit in your hand.

“I’m not a damsel in distress,” you said. “I don’t need you to babysit me.”

“I’m not babysitting,” he replied. “I’m keeping you alive.”

In the third game, players had to quickly form groups based on the number the organizers called, and with each failed attempt, the penalty was being shot to death. Fear ran high, and each moment felt like it could be your last.

You were with Young-il, trying to keep calm as the guards shouted the numbers. The merry go round platform spun as everyone scrambled to form groups and find a room, but it quickly turned chaotic. Someone tried to push past you, their eyes wild with desperation, and before you could react, Young-il was already stepping in.

His face was hard, his eyes cold as he grabbed the man by the collar, dragging him to the back of the room. The man’s protests were cut short as Young-il raised his hands and broke his neck, ending his life. The room fell silent for a moment before the countdown ended.

You froze, shock creeping into your body as you realized what had just happened. You hadn’t expected him to kill so easily, even after all the brutality you’d witnessed in the games. His gaze softened when he turned to you, seeing the fear in your eyes. He stepped closer, his hand resting on your shoulder.

“I know this is hard,” he whispered, his voice gentle compared to the violence he had just shown. “But you need to understand, this place doesn’t have mercy.” He looked down at you, his hand reaching up to cup your face, brushing away the few tears that had fallen. “It’s gonna be okay, I’m here.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words as he pulled you into his chest. The harsh reality of the games had taken root in you, but with him, you knew, even if just for a minute, you wouldn’t have to do it alone. His feelings for you were clear, he wanted you to survive, to make it out of this, and he was determined to ensure that you would.

During the dark night when the O Team launched their attack, chaos erupted. Players were dragged from their beds, screams echoing through the dormitory. When someone lunged toward you with a fork, Young-il stopped them in an instant, knocking them to the ground with a brutality that left you stunned.

He positioned himself between you and the attackers, his stance firm. “Stay behind me,” he barked, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“I can fight!” you shouted back, trying to step forward.

“Not tonight,” he said, shoving you back gently but firmly. “You’re staying behind me. That’s final.”

Despite your protests, he shielded you with everything he had, fighting off anyone who dared come near.

When the group decided to attack the guards and confront the ‘Front Man’, Young-il hesitated. His gaze flickered between you and Gi-hun, his usual resolve wavering.

“You’ll be okay,” he said finally, pressing a gun into your hand.

“I don’t even know how to use this,” you said, eyes widened.

“You don’t need to. Just point and shoot if you have to,” he said. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening. “Why are you doing all this?”

“Because you’re mine,” he said quietly, his words slipping out before he could stop them.

Your breath hitched, but before you could respond, he turned to follow Gi-hun. Over his shoulder, he added, “You’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you with more questions than answers and a determination to survive—not just for yourself, but for the man who had somehow made you his priority in this death game.

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creamecafe · 6 months ago

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Can you please write how squid game men will react to having a crush on reader?

How Squid Game Men Would Having to a Crush on Reader (Season 2 Edition)

Pairing: Squid Game Men x GN!Reader (No pronouns used)

Warnings: fluff, mentions of drug, SFW, kinda stalking but not yandere or dark! themes

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for requesting I hoped you enjoy! I'm sorry guys I couldn't add Lee Myung-Gi, it reached the limit for gifs so I'm doing part 2.

Women's version and a continuation will be posted soon!

Want a request for a Squid Game character like this one? Check out my latest post, read my request guidelines and send a request!

Read on Wattpad & AO3 here

Seong Gi Hun

He thought that finding love or being attracted to someone was impossible after what he had been through

But when he saw you, it’s like seeing a past glance of his old self

Wants you on his team immediately

His social skills and personality he feels like has lost color, but would try just for you

Young-il

Thinks using the term “crush” is childish

He likes to use the word “fascinated”

Is always thinking of ways to talk to you

Is more smiley around you and asks you about your day

Thanos

Is lookin at you when he gets the chance to (Gettting breakfast or lunch)

Tries to come up with pick up lines for you, but ends up messing up (In which Nam Guy laughs and Thanos hits him)

Always rapping in front of you to seem cool

Has you by his side always and on his team

Doesn’t even want to take drugs because you’re considered to him his new addiction in a way

Kang Dae Ho

Once he realizes he has a crush on you, everything changes

He tries to not act so nervous around you, but he can’t help it

Stutters a lot when he talks to you

Has his jacket off a lot because he gets warm/flustered when thinking about you or when you’re around

Nam Gyu

Tries to act cool around you, but can't stop smiling around you

Thanos is hyping him up and would tease him about your crush

Is always fixing his hair before talking to you

Park Min-Su

Is shy as always, but around you is different

He likes you because you're the only in Thanos' group to actually treat him like a real person

Tries to muster up the courage to talk to you

Listens to you set up plans for the games because he loves hearing your voice

Hwang Jun-Ho

Tries to keep his chill persona up, but is nervous inside

Is always complimenting you how you look

Loves to give little subtle flirting hints but not too obvious

Salesman

Has a crush on you probably in the most unhealthy way, but still keeps his distance

Overhears what stuff you like and will buy it for you

Write down every thing you like and will remember

Will talk to you when he has the chance in the subway

Taglist:

@hobinistaworld, @swuzzin, @magicalconnoisseurcoffee, @dxrlingluv, @ninahorikoshifr, @ikeithy, @vampiregirlxoxoxo, @sassyyoyo, @cloudysxkura, @hollxe1, @ill-loveyouthroughthestars, @lovesickxmina, @basoressia, @61f1mazx, @chirikoheina, @creepyp-mp4

Navigation | Main Masterlist | Squid Game Masterlist | Squid Game Men Masterlist | Join my taglist!

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wtfaniii · 5 months ago

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Saw this somewhere (can't remember where) and I'm DESPERATE to see your take on this. So Inho watches over the games bla bla bla but then suddenly he sees a familiar face of a girl he hooked up with once and so he convinces himself he's joining just for Gi-hun but in reality he wants to meet her again because he was lole dead set on making her wife number two after that night. Then theres this one time where they're eating together and she gives Jun-hee her food and denying she's hungry but then Young-il gives her his. Just ackkkkk praying you'll notice this one😓😓

Sorry for the delay but here is your order 😸

Old Love

Summary: You and In-ho had a fleeting but intense teenage romance, due to fate you separated and once again he had you in front of him making him awaken feelings buried deep in his heart.

Warning: some drama and just some Disney-style cheesiness LOL

Hwang In-ho (Young-il) x fem reader

—I promise to love you more than yesterday and less than tomorrow.

—You're too cheesy, ¿you know? —You said amused but blushing as In-ho scattered kisses all over your face.

—I know, and that's how you love me —He responded by taking your face to bring you closer to his lips and kiss you intensely.

He kissed you so hard that he pushed you back and the two of fell on backs onto the grass, your school uniforms were covered in dirt and the judging glances of some adults were present but you didn't care, when you were together the rest around you didn't exist.

—I have to go home or dad will kill me —You said with a laugh as you stood up and shook your skirt.

Your father wasn't the best man in the world, he was an alcoholic and usually spent all his money on that but your innocent and trusting heart still appreciated him, that was something that In-ho hated and loved at the same time, your heart was always more influenced than your brain so you refused to see the evil in some people.

So he spoke without thinking.

—You should stay with me tonight, mom will make samgyeopsal for dinner.

He didn't want you to go back home, at this time of the evening your father was already very drunk and you would be burdened with some chores, he hoped that tonight would be different for you.

You smiled and even though you knew it wouldn't be the best decision, you agreed to go with him to his house.

[...]

His eyes stopped on the screen and the glass of liquor stayed centimeters from his lips when he saw your face among those players.

It was impossible.

It had been thirty-seven years since he last saw you and yet there you were, with your hair disheveled, an anguished look and blood splattered on your face but to him you were still as beautiful as before.

He got up from his couch and left his room to go to the control center, he didn't want you to get shot for moving, he didn't want you to die now that he had seen your face again after so many years.

But maybe seeing you through a screen trying to survive would be torture, and him chances of protecting you would be limited.

Then he thought...

He also had to keep an eye on Gi-hun, he had to analyze every movement and thought of his enemy and the best way to do it was to infiltrate those games, to be one more among those people.

If he participated, he could protect you better and keep an eye on Gi-hun, two birds with one stone, but there was a slight problem, you knew him, that would put his identity at risk with the others, that would be a crime.

But it would also be a crime to let you die in there.

Of course, neglecting Gi-hun would also be very bad.

After a few seconds of thinking about this plan he finally made a decision, left his second in command, put on the green uniform with the number 001 and entered that arena when everyone was returning to the huge room.

He first observed you from a short distance, seeing you team up with Gi-hun and Player 390, you were sociable, just as he remembered, you were always very kind to others that's why you had friends everywhere.

But if you had as many friends as he thought, ¿how did you end up here?

After the vote In-ho approached you, when you saw him you didn't recognize right away, something that made it easier for him for lie about his name but after a few minutes sitting next to you while Jung-bae and Dae-ho talked about the navy excitedly he heard a soft squeal from you, seeing you he saw your surprised expression.

It took you a while to recognize him, he had changed a little after so many years, he was now more handsome but his eyes were the same, his gaze and attention to what surrounded him was still there.

—In-ho... —You murmured, still unable to believe it.

Luckily for him, he was the only one who heard your words, he made a sign to you to move away from the group so he could talk to you.

When him hand touched yours it was like feeling an electric current run through your body, your skin prickled and your breath caught in the throat.

[...]

—¿Are you sure? If you want me to stop, just tell me.

You smiled and kissed him cheek, it was nighttime, In-ho had sneaked into your bedroom through your window and now the two of were under the sheets trying to take a big step in the relationship.

—I'm sure, I want to do it... —You murmured, leaving another short kiss on him lips.

He was on top of you wearing only underwear and just as nervous as you, for both of it was the first time and you had no idea what were going to do but he would try to make it special and unforgettable, he wanted to make you feel loved and adored and that's what he was going to do.

Everything was going great in the relationship, went to school together, came home together, sometimes you went with him to his house to spend time with his family and at night he came into your room to love you body and soul.

[...]

—¿Why did you lie about your name? —You asked once if the two of were separated from the others

—It's hard to explain ¿but what are you doing here? I thought you lived in Canada.

He was full of questions and memories that overwhelmed him, as well as those butterflies in his stomach that he felt when was with you just like before.

You twisted lips as remembered that, you moved to Canada on a scholarship but due to your breakup with In-ho you were emotionally vulnerable, you got involved with people who didn't contribute to your life and they led you to the places are you now.

In-ho noticed your silence and knew that things hadn't worked out well for you since the last time you saw each other.

He just hugged you and you immediately responded. It was like a dream to be in him arms again, to smell him scent and feel him warmth.

—I didn't think I'd see you again... —You told him sincerely, your heart still belonged to him since you were sixteen.

—I'm not going to let you go this time...

It was a promise, he wasn't willing to let you go again like years ago, this time he would make sure to stay with you no matter the obstacles.

During his stay there he stayed close at all times, watching as you tried to be nice to the other players and managed to ally yourself with other sides, including one that included a pregnant woman named Jun-hee.

You were quite compassionate and kind despite the circumstances, you were still the same or so you seemed but he knew you well enough to lean towards the second option.

He didn't know what you had been through in that foreign country, In-ho just wanted to heal your wounds, take care of you and provide for you as he once promised in his teenage years.

—Take my food —You said to Jun-hee taking her hand to make her hold the small can —You need it more than I do.

Embarrassed and grateful Jun-hee took the food and smiled at you, when you returned with the rest In-ho handed you his food.

—Oh no I couldn't —You said, denying flatly, you didn't want to leave him without eating.

—Please eat it or your mood won't be as nice if you have an empty stomach.

He really knew you like the back of his hand.

In-ho always put your needs above his own, he was a gentleman to you and that would never change.

Even the last time you saw him, when you said goodbye at the airport, he was more concerned about your feelings than his own pain, he showered you with nice words and promises that were never fulfilled.

He was capable of anything for you but in those years of youth he had limited possibilities.

Not currently, that's why he didn't hesitate for a second to kill the player who was with you in the room during the Mingle game, the guards wouldn't kill you, nor him but he wasn't ready to give you explanations yet, he didn't want that side of him to come out with you yet.

However, your reaction to seeing him kill was something that felt like a pressure on his chest.

[...]

It was a weekend afternoon, you and In-ho were walking around a fair eating cotton candy and popcorn while looking for a mechanical game to test.

The roller coaster and carousel were fun but now you were looking for something more interesting.

—¿What would you prefer? Let the aliens take me ¿or offer someone else in my place?

—The aliens wouldn't take you, there's nothing in your brain that they find interesting — You joked amused.

He put a hand to his chest, dramatically indignant.

—You're cruel, but maybe you're right —He said with a soft smile as he held your hand again and kissed your cheek—But I would prevent the aliens from taking you.

—¿And who would you offer in my place? —You asked curiously.

—Oh I don't know... maybe-...

—My dad.

—¡Yes! ¡Your dad! —In-ho laughed at his own response, but felt you pushing him through the crowd to the opposite side of where they were walking.

He was about to ask what going on when he saw you arguing with your father, the man looked at him angrily as he tried to push you away to get to him.

You knew that your father wouldn't allow you to have a boyfriend, he used to call you "slut" just for seeing you talking to a boy and now that he had seen you so affectionate and happy with In-ho he was more than furious.

In-ho wasn't going to run away even if you asked him to, he wasn't afraid of getting hit if that meant defending your honor and dignity, so when you saw him get up and stand between you and your father, you felt like your heart had stopped in your chest.

You did everything to separate them, In-ho was at a disadvantage compared to your father, the man was big and rough, definitely your dear boyfriend took the brunt of his fury.

After minutes that seemed like hours, the police arrived at the scene and arrested your father and In-ho was taken to the hospital with a black eye, a broken leg and a split lip.

—I'm so sorry...

In-ho's heart hurt more than his physical wounds, seeing you cry and worried about him was unbearable and he didn't want you to go through that kind of violence again.

—Run away with me —He said seriously while sitting on the edge of the bed, the two of them waiting for him mother to arrive —I have worked and I have enough money to get away from here on the next train.

You looked at him in silence, you knew he wasn't joking but you couldn't leave, you had nothing to lose but he did, he had a family that loved him, a younger brother on the way and friends at school, you weren't going to drag him with you into your world full of worries and problems.

—I love you In-ho... —You murmured, leaving a kiss on the corner of him lips —But...

—But you don't want to leave... —he deduced when didn't get a concise answer.

Loving sometimes means letting go, he made you happy but you weren't the best for him, or at least that's what you thought.

Life had been so bad to you since you were little that and believed that happiness was not for you, you were not worthy of what In-ho gave you.

After that day you started to drift apart, In-ho wouldn't drop you off at your house after school and you didn't go to him house to eat anymore, the nights became lonely and little by little your relationship was ending.

Until two weeks later they offered you a scholarship that you accepted without hesitation only to walk away permanently.

In-ho didn't know until the day of your departure only because his mother told him, he practically ran to the airport and managed to say goodbye to you.

There were no words, just silent glances and a short hug before you got on the plane.

He let you go but he didn't stop loving you

[...]

—You killed that man —You said, still unable to fully process how this man you loved so much could stain his blood so easily.

Yes, this was a win or die competition but you didn't think In-ho was capable of going to such lengths to survive, plus you had the feeling he was hiding something from you, he didn't want to tell his real name and he was lying about some things.

—Yes ¿and? It was him or us —He replied, stopping his walk back to the room with the other players to turn to look at you.

He didn't want to have to give you explanations now, just wanted you to stay with him without asking the reason why he did things.

In-ho wanted you to trust him blindly again, just as he trusted you completely.

He extended a hand towards you without taking his eyes off yours.

—Stay with me this time.

You only hesitated for a few seconds.

—¿Do you remember what I promised you when I asked you to be my girlfriend? —You nodded silently, you remembered everything perfectly, ¿how could you forget? Any man who was with you after In-ho didn't fill that void in your heart.

—I still love you, I have since saw you and that's not going to change, stay with me this time.

The intense love they had was still there, it was a small flame that only needed firewood to regain the strength it had.

You took him hand and he smiled sincerely with love, as long as you were together the rest of the world was no problem.

—This time I'm not going anywhere without you —You said quietly just so he could hear but with certainty.

"I love you more than yesterday and less than tomorrow" For him these words were real when were about you.

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rockingbytheseaside · 10 months ago

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✦ The Strong and The Feeble

(Il Capitano with sick reader / tw: general description of illness, coughing, or physical pain. sfw)

Imagine Il Capitano with a sick darling, one whose health is often at risk. Your condition has been chronic for as long as you remember since your well-being is susceptible to common ailments and pain. And yet, it never hindered Il Capitano’s admiration towards you. Instead, it only amplified his urge to shield and protect you.

Imagine the mighty Harbinger returning from a prolonged expedition, his strides cutting through the secluded snowy terrain to reach a quaint manor on the outskirts of Snezhnaya. The mere sensation of the crisp taiga air beckons him to yearn for the upcoming warmth of your arms. Capitano barely has a moment to enter the manor and hand in his coat to the servants when a familiar voice calls out – “Is that him? Is he home already? Capi…!”

Imagine Il Capitano opening his arms and rushing to scoop you, both in worry and longing to feel your body against him. It appears that today is one of your brighter days, as you allow your weary body to move forward and welcome him directly instead of remaining in bed, even when a retinue of worried maids are trailing behind you. But expending your energy is no longer a worry, as Capitano effortlessly lifts you in a tender embrace with his armored hands.

“My beloved, I missed you dearly… But you shouldn’t overexert yourself just to welcome me. Save your energy for me, sweetheart.”

But you never allow your mood to change along with your ailments. Bedridden or not, you always greet your Knight despite your conditions. He doesn’t deserve to feel any more worry from your demeanor than he already does when he is away at work. Unbeknownst to you, Capitano sees right through you and the lengths you go to conceal your coughs, troubled breaths, or fatigue.

Any day that Capitano makes it back home is a celebration. He misses you terribly, and his Fatui expeditions became a driving force to work hard for you. He’ll return home with rare herbs, expensive medicine, or anything that your condition might require. Even when he is on a mission abroad, his mind keeps conjuring ideas on what unique gifts and books he must search for.

Imagine how Capitano’s prolonged mission heightened his worry for you. Thus, once he's settled at home, no longer donning his armor, Capitano will personally step in to take care of you. His hand is always protectively sweeping over your forehead and hair, ensuring your temperature is in check. He'll often dismiss the servants so he can bring you hot beverages to ease your sore throat. Only after confirming you've taken your medication and are resting on fresh sheets will the typically composed Harbinger release a sigh and join you in bed.

“Dear, you just got home. You mustn't trouble yourself so. You know I can take care of myself if needed to… I'm not that helpless, Capi.”

Il Capitano would apologize, tighten his arm around your shoulder, and softly nuzzle his face to a tender kiss on your cheek. However, internally, he is sighing wistfully, because he knows that on sunny days there are looming shadows as well. Sometimes, your illness takes a toll on you, your voice becoming hoarse and your coughing more frequent. Moving or even lifting your head would cause a headache, but the Harbinger never backs away in such circumstances.

You can barely speak on those days. But even as you lay in bed Capitano can tell you feel guilty and try to dismiss his aid. You even try to conjure up a weak smile. A smile that brings the Harbinger to his knees, kneeling beside your bed and silently cursing whatever celestial fate allowed you to suffer so.

"Shhh... sweetheart. I know you despise it, but you must comply to drink this medicine. I will not let ailments win over you."

Imagine how Capitano would never trade any paradise for seeing you smile on the rare days that you feel better. You try to move around, dismissing any help from the servants. Capitano would step in, link a protective arm around yours, and take you on a stroll in the manor's garden. The imposing Captain would make sure his steps are slow and careful so you won't feel rushed. However, the opposite always occurs. Keen to use the most of your condition today, you keep rushing off ahead of him.

Imagine Il Capitano rushing after you gently, catching you before you accidentally trip or fall from your childlike sprints. With a single arm around your torso, he easily picks you up from behind. His tender warnings go unheard as you giggle joyously. A rare and merry sound for him.

If the Snezhnayan weather allows it, he brings a designated blanket to drape over your legs, ensuring your comfort as the two of you spend the entire morning outdoors. He’d hold you close, sharing tales of his battles and missions. But what’s the point of talking about work when you can’t even accompany him and all he does is fight for the sake of returning home – to you.

Who has the right to define what constitutes strength and weakness? Perhaps for some, physical prowess and overcoming adversity may epitomize the ultimate warrior, while the opposite rings true for the meek. Nonetheless, a certain Harbinger will argue against it. For even he weakens at the sight of your unwavering smile, whenever you are at your worst condition. Or when you muster the deepest courage to get up on your own instead of seeking help. Who is he to boast as the strongest person in Teyvata, when every day you fight to survive?

Hence, imagine the 1st of the Fatui Harbinger lowering his head in reverence for you. Despite your bewilderment in his manners, he seeks your embrace so he can hear that heartbeat safe and beating, praising each day he gets to hold you in his arms. -

#genshin impact #il capitano x reader #capitano x reader #genshin impact fatui #fatui x reader #fatui harbingers x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin impact x reader #tw sickness #genshin fluff #gender neutral reader #il capitano #capitano

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lost-in-thoughts03 · 8 days ago

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EVERY BREATH YOU TAKE || FRONTMAN

Part l

" Oh, can't you see, you belong to me?"

Summary: After the fifth game, the Frontman leaves you under The Officer's surveillance, but it appears that he is not amused to see you with his own worker.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, DARK, heavy smut, heavy angst, explicit content, coercion, choking, using of vibrating collar, erotic, power imbalance, manipulation, threats, violence, jealousy, heavy tension, major character death, betrayal, stockholm syndrome, toxic relationship, matured language, mentioned of VIPs, obsession, possessive, ownership, older man x younger woman (legal), yandere behavior, soft-dom! In-ho, submissive! Reader, praising, worshipping, oral (F receiving), hard and rough sex, PiV, unprotected, overstimulation, riding, and markings

Words: 6.4k

The weight of the onyx mask pressed against your face like a second skin—cool, suffocating, final.

Your steps felt hollow as you followed him back through the dim corridors lit only by flickering red panels.

His presence was silent now, just a tall shadow moving ahead of you, once known as Young-il…now a stranger cloaked in secrets and the blood of your past.

The distant sounds of the VIP lounge grew louder—laughter, clinking glasses, animalistic grunts of excitement as the next game played out on massive screens.

It was as if nothing had happened.

No one had died.

No one had betrayed.

No one had been used.

When you both reentered the lounge, the heat of the room and the stench of cigar smoke wrapped around you like a foul welcome. The other VIPs barely turned their heads—too absorbed in the carnage flashing across the monitors to notice your absence.

“ Ah, finally.” One of them drawled lazily.

“ We thought you ran off with your little plaything for good.”

The Frontman gave a slight nod, voice calm, composed again. “ She was attending to errands, as instructed.”

A lie.

Clean.

Undisputed.

You stood still beside him, mask hiding the storm inside your eyes as your heart pounded beneath your robe. You were once again the doll they thought you were—silent, pretty, disposable.

But you knew.

You knew who he really was.

And he knew that now, you were dangerous.

He leaned in close, so quietly only you could hear, his voice a ghost under the mask:

“ Don’t try to turn them against me. They’ll believe me before they believe you.”

You didn’t answer.

Not because you agreed—but because every fiber of your being was now at war. Part of you still remembered the calm Young-il in the bunk beds beside you, who once whispered survival strategies through the bars when the guards were asleep.

Another part of you was still reeling from the way he had touched you just minutes ago—how he made you beg for him even while hiding behind a thousand lies.

And another—darker—part of you burned with something cold and sharp.

You weren’t going to forgive this.

“ Next round begins in five minutes.” Another VIP barked, raising a glass.

“ Place your bets, ladies and gentlemen.”

The screens shifted—new players, new horror. You watched as the camera panned across Gi-hun’s face on the feed.

He looked older now. Angrier. And painfully unaware that the man orchestrating the whole thing was someone he had once called comrade.

You clenched your fists beneath the folds of your robe. The Frontman took a step forward.

“ Come.” He ordered, just loud enough for you to hear.

“ Stand beside me. Don’t forget your place.”

But you had remembered your place.

And it wasn’t at his side anymore.

It was at his throat.

And when the time came…

You would be the one holding the real mask.

...

The fifth game ended in a flood of screams and silence. Another body. Another life erased under the roar of applause and the shifting weight of money.

You didn’t move.

You stood beside the Frontman like a perfect, polished shadow—silent, masked, untouched on the outside. But your muscles ache beneath the layers of silk and shame, and the dull throb between your thighs was a cruel reminder of what had happened behind those locked doors.

The room swirled with noise.

The VIPs clinked glasses again.

Some laughed. Others groaned over lost bets.

And some were too busy ogling the footage on replay.

You? You felt…disconnected.

Not broken.

But watching yourself from outside your body.

Your fingers were curled gently at your sides, posture graceful, controlled. You weren’t allowed to fidget. He’d taught you that well. Obedience wasn’t just for the bedroom.

It was for survival.

The Frontman turned toward you briefly. His gaze—hidden behind that expressionless, angular mask—lingered just long enough.

“ Be good.” He said, tone calm but unmistakably laced with a command.

“ I have to attend to our guests.”

You didn’t reply. You didn’t have to. The silence between you had grown into its own language.

He nodded toward one of the guards standing nearby. Not just any guard. The officer.

Dressed in black, the square symbol stamped on his mask—a rank that answered directly to the Frontman.

Quiet.

Watchful.

Always too still.

“ She stays here.” The Frontman ordered.

“ You’ll make sure she does.”

The officer gave a short nod, stepping closer.

“ Understood, sir.”

You caught the faint tension in the way his hand hovered near his sidearm—not threatening, but a reminder. You weren’t alone. You weren’t free.

You gave a small nod of acknowledgment, still silent.

The Frontman turned without another word, walking back toward the cluster of velvet seats and swirling smoke where the VIPs lounged like bored gods.

And you…

You sat down slowly, perching on the edge of a chaise lounge near the back of the room.

The officer didn’t speak. He just stood a few steps away, arms behind his back, unmoving.

Time crawled.

The voices of the VIPs were distant now—like a murmur behind glass. You stared at the monitor, watching the blood-soaked remnants of the fifth game being cleared. Gi-hun’s face flashed across the screen again.

His eyes…

They were starting to look like yours.

Tired.

Haunted.

Angry.

You wondered if he would even recognize you now. Masked. Owned. Used. A far cry from the girl who once laughed with him during stolen moments in the dorms. The one Jun-bae had once shielded during the first vote.

Jun-bae.

Your stomach turned. His face flickered like a broken slide in your memory, warm and teasing one moment, lifeless the next.

Killed.

By the same man who kissed your trembling lips just an hour ago.

Your hands clenched.

You didn’t cry.

You wouldn’t—not here, not while being watched. But something inside you was hardening. You weren’t planning on staying with his obedient girl for long. And soon, when the final game ended and the masks began to fall—

One of you wouldn’t walk away.

You didn’t know if it would be you.

But it wouldn’t be him without blood on his hands.

And next time…it just might be his.

The room had settled into a quiet lull, the kind that comes before a final act. The VIPs had retreated into their luxuries, sipping their drinks and placing their final bets in hushed tones while the footage of the last remaining players looped endlessly on screen.

You remained seated, arms folded delicately across your lap, the mask hiding the fatigue in your eyes—but not the weight in your chest.

And then…he spoke.

“ You’re quieter than I expected.”

The officer’s voice cut through the haze—low, smooth, calculated. You turned your head slightly to find him stepping forward, his figure blocking out the overhead light as he stood above you.

A shadow in crimson.

“ I saw what happened.” He added, not bothering to lower his voice.

“ In the private chamber.”

You froze.

His tone wasn’t mocking. If anything…it was curious. Amused.

“ Loud little thing, aren’t you?” He said with a hint of a grin beneath the mask.

“ No wonder he’s obsessed.” He tilted his head, studying you like you were an exposed nerve.

“ You’re off-limits. That much is obvious. Marked. Owned. But that doesn’t mean I’m not curious.”

“ You taste as sweet as you sound?”

Your breath hitched, eyes narrowing behind your mask. But before you could respond, he leaned in slowly—his breath grazing the edge of your face as he whispered something into your ear.

Something filthy.

Something bold.

Something that made your heart skip—not from arousal, but from shock.

Your eyes widened beneath the mask.

He laughed quietly.

“ I’d take you out of here.” He murmured.

“ If you asked me to. But you’d have to pay the price, sweetheart. One I think you’re too afraid to name.”

You didn’t move, didn’t flinch—only watched him.

“ I’ve served that bastard long enough to know what he hides.” He continued, his fingers suddenly under your chin.

He tilted your head up toward him. “ And I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

His voice dropped to a murmur. “ You’re his weakness.”

That word rang in your ears like a gunshot.

“ He wasn’t always the Frontman. He was something else before…someone. And you?” He said.

“ You’re the only one left who could make him fall.”

Then, footsteps.

Fast. Heavy. Purposeful.

The air shifted.

Before either of you could turn, a hand snatched your wrist and yanked you to your feet—away from the officer, away from that hushed threat wrapped in temptation.

“ That’s far enough.”

The Frontman.

His voice was ice, absolute, and his revolver was already raised—pointed straight at the officer’s chest.

The room fell dead silent.

You felt his grip tighten around your wrist—not rough, but possessive. His masked face never left the officer, but you could sense the fury radiating off him like heat.

The officer raised his hands slowly. “ Just keeping her company.” He said coolly.

“ She looked a little...untended.”

The Frontman didn’t move.

“ Leave.” He growled.

A pause.

Then the officer slowly nodded, stepping back without another word. But before he disappeared through the lounge door, he glanced at you one last time and said:

“ When you’re ready to break him…you know where to find me.”

The doors shut behind him.

Silence returned.

The Frontman finally turned to you, his body tense beneath the tailored black. Still gripping your wrist, he pulled you in close—not gently, not violently…but like he needed to feel you again. To make sure you were still his.

“ Did he touch you?”

You didn’t answer. Because you knew the question wasn’t really about the officer.

It was about control.

And for the first time…

It wasn’t entirely his anymore.

The silence between you and the Frontman stretched like wire—tight, strained, dangerously thin. His hand was still wrapped around your wrist, his grip unforgiving.

Not enough to hurt…but enough to remind you who you belonged to.

Or rather…who he thought you did.

His masked face tilted toward yours, and though you couldn’t see his expression beneath the geometric edges, you felt his eyes—burning into you.

“ You’re quiet again.” He said lowly.

“ Still dazed from earlier?”

You didn’t answer.

Not yet.

He took a step closer. “ Or are you trying to forget what happened in the chamber?” His voice dropped an octave—silk laced with threat.

“ Do you need me to remind you?”

You tried to shift back, but he pulled you closer, his gloved fingers ghosting down your side, just enough to make your breath catch.

“ No one else touches you like I do.” He whispered against the edge of your mask.

“ No one else breaks you the way I do.”

Your stomach twisted—not from fear, but from the chaos of your own emotions. Shame. Confusion. Hunger. Rage.

You were his.

But you weren’t.

Not fully.

Not anymore.

“ Maybe.” He said, fingers grazing your waist.

“ I should show you again. Make sure that mouth only moans my name.”

You clenched your jaw beneath the mask.

Then his tone shifted. Still sharp—but colder.

“ What did he say to you?”

You looked up at him.

His body was rigid, controlled, but barely. You could feel it in the way his fingers tightened. He didn’t like what he didn’t know. The idea that someone else had whispered in your ear and made your eyes widen like that.

“ Tell me…” He ordered.

“ Now.”

You hesitated.

And that hesitation said everything.

His grip tightened just slightly, and you felt his breath near your cheek again—hot, angry, possessive.

“ He touched your chin. Get close to your mouth.”

“ Did he offer you freedom?” He said with a humorless chuckle.

“ Did he promise to save you from me?”

You didn’t speak. And that silence struck him harder than any answer.

“ I should’ve killed him when I had the chance.” He muttered.

Then, quieter…darker:

“ You are mine. Every sound, every breath, every bruise I leave—mine. He thinks he knows me?” A scoff.

“ Then he should know what happens when someone touches what’s already claimed.”

He stepped back just enough to look you up and down—slowly.

“ He saw you…but I’m the one who owns you.” Then he leaned in again, brushing his masked mouth against the side of your jaw.

“ So tell me…” He whispered.

“ Do you want me to remind you of what you really are?” His gloved hand skimmed down your thigh.

“ Or would you rather go running to him…just to see if he fucks you as well as I do?”

A line had been drawn.

And now…

He was daring you to cross it.

...

The moment the lounge doors shut behind you, the world went silent.

You didn’t even have time to speak before his grip on your wrist tightened and he dragged you down the corridor.

Each step echoed with authority, boots striking the concrete like a war drum, his long coat trailing behind him. His pace was unforgiving—like he was walking off fury before it spilled into something worse.

You knew where you were going.

Back to the private chamber.

Back to the lion’s den, but this time—not for seduction.

This was punishment.

A test.

A reminder.

The heavy door slammed shut behind you, and he locked it with a sharp click. He turned to you slowly, mask still on. That cold, obsidian thing staring down at you like a god ready to strike.

“ You hesitated.” He said simply. No rage in his tone—just cool disappointment.

“ When I asked what he said. When I asked what you felt.” He stepped forward. You instinctively stepped back—your spine brushing the cold edge of the wall.

“ You think silence protects you?” He asked.

“ No. Silence tempts me.”

He reached into a drawer beneath the shelf and pulled out something gleaming—metal.

A sleek black remote.

Connected to a collar.

Leather.

Clean.

Sharp-edged.

“ Let’s play a game.” He said, voice low and sharp.

“ One question. One answer. You hesitate or lie—” He raised the collar and clicked the control. A soft buzz responded.

“ You wear this. And I make you beg for forgiveness until you forget who tempted you in the first place.”

Your breath caught.

He crossed the room with slow purpose, grabbed the back of your neck gently—but firmly—and slid the collar around your throat. He didn’t buckle it yet. Just held it there, his eyes watching your face for any sign of resistance.

“ Take off the mask.” He whispered.

“ I want to see your face when you answer me.”

With trembling fingers, you removed it. Your lips parted with shallow breath, your gaze meeting the dark void behind his mask.

“ Good girl.”

He fastened the collar—tight, but not choking. Just enough to remind you. Then, the first question.

“ Did you want him to kiss you?”

You hesitated. He clicked the remote—buzz. The vibration against your throat made you gasp, your knees wobbling.

“ Wrong answer.” He murmured, stepping in behind you, crowding you against the wall.

His gloved hand slid around your waist, down between your legs, cupping you roughly over the fabric. “ Your body says otherwise.”

“ Again…” He whispered, pressing harder.

“ Did. You. Want. Him?”

“ No.” You gasped.

He paused. Silent. Then slowly dragged his fingers up your inner thigh.

“ Good.” He growled.

“ Because if you did—I’d make you scream so loud the whole floor would hear who really owns this mouth.”

Without warning, he spun you around and pushed you against the wall—hands braced high, chest heaving.

“ Now the real game begins.” He said.

He clicked the remote again—this time, a deep vibration that pulsed through your throat and straight between your legs. The collar was wired in ways you hadn’t imagined. Your body buckled as heat bloomed instantly, dizzying and involuntary.

“ You want a taste of what he doesn’t get to have?” He whispered darkly, dragging his masked face down your neck, over the collar.

“ Then earn it.”

He pulled your hips back against him, already hard beneath the layers. His hand moved to your front again—slow, calculated, as the vibration deepened with each second.

“ No lies.” He warned.

“ No hesitation.”

And then—he slid two fingers inside you, rough, making you cry out.

“ Answer every question I ask.” He growled.

“ Or I ruin you without letting you finish.”

And with the remote in one hand, his fingers inside you, and your voice already faltering—

You knew this wasn’t just about lust anymore.

It was a war.

A twisted, hungry war between punishment and possession. And you were caught in the center—bare, trembling, and burning.

Exactly where he wanted you. And exactly where you hated to need to be.

Your breath stuttered against the wall, palms splayed flat on the cold surface as the Frontman pressed against your back—his presence a storm wrapped in tailored black and authority.

Every inch of your body was on fire, not just from the harsh vibrations rippling from the collar down your spine, but from him. From the game.

You were soaked.

Trembling.

But still standing.

“ You’re already shaking.” He murmured, fingers pumping slow and deep inside you.

“ And we’ve only just started.”

He curled his fingers and you cried out, your knees nearly giving way—caught only by his other hand braced at your waist.

Then, the vibrations stopped.

Silence.

Stillness.

You gasped at the loss, blinking hard, heart pounding in your ears.

“ Do you want more?” He asked coolly.

You swallowed hard, teeth clenching as your body twitched from the denial.

“ Y-Yes…”

A click. The collar buzzed sharply again, just long enough to make you flinch.

“ Wrong answer.” He said, lips against your ear.

“ Say it properly.”

You bit your lip, but the ache was spreading. Desire, humiliation, tension all wrapped into one unbearable coil.

“ P-Please…I want more.” You whispered.

“ Please…”

His fingers moved again, rougher this time—faster. The sudden pace left you gasping.

“ That’s better.” He murmured.

“ But not good enough.”

He yanked your hips back and shoved your chest forward, arching your body into a perfect line for him—forcing you to take it deeper. His fingers scissored inside you, soaked with the mess he’d already drawn from you earlier.

“ Do you think I didn’t notice how you looked at him?” He hissed.

“ Like you forgot whose name made you scream first?”

“ I didn’t—” You tried, but the vibration buzzed again, punishing and sharp. You sobbed.

“ Another lie.” He said, voice like ice.

“ You don’t speak unless it’s truth. Or moaning.”

He pulled his fingers out and shoved them into your mouth without warning.

“ Taste what he’ll never have.”

You gagged slightly, eyes watering as you obeyed, tongue swirling around his gloved digits. He pulled them out slowly, watching your lips part for more.

“ You’re going to ride me again.” He said then, stepping back and dragging you to the center of the room.

“ But you won’t come. Not until I say.”

You barely had time to find balance before he was lowering himself into the velvet armchair, legs spread, cock already out and throbbing, dripping at the tip.

“ Now.” He said, tapping his thigh.

“ On my lap. Face me. Let me watch how desperate you look when you disobey.”

You climbed on, your body still trembling, still soaked, your thighs shaking as you sank down slowly onto him—every inch stretching you open again.

You both groaned.

He gripped your hips, holding you still.

“ Don’t move yet.” He warned.

“ I ask. You answer.”

You nodded quickly, barely able to breathe.

“ Do you want to be mine?” He asked.

Your mouth opened.

Click.

The vibration sparked again. You cried out.

“ Answer.”

“ Yes! Yes, I’m yours—”

“ Then prove it.” He growled, pulling you down harder, his hips thrusting up once, sharply.

“ Ride me like you’d never let another man touch you. Not even in your dreams.”

And you did.

You rode him with everything—desire, guilt, rage, and submission bleeding together. Your moans filled the chamber again, raw and unrestrained.

His hands roamed your body with punishing precision. The collar buzzed when you slowed, or when you hesitated—forcing you to obey, to earn every second of pleasure.

“ You’re mine.” He said again, one hand gripping your throat just above the collar.

“ And I’ll break you again and again until even the thought of someone else makes you burn with shame.”

And as your body clenched around him, right on the edge, right where he wanted you—

He leaned in close and whispered:

“ Now beg me to let you come.”

And you did.

Because you had to.

Because you were his.

And because deep down…

Part of you wanted to be ruined all over again.

Your entire body trembled as you straddled him—legs quivering from exertion, soaked from being edged and commanded and teased into desperate need.

The vibrations in your collar had become unbearable, lighting every nerve in your body with want, and the way he filled you—deep, unforgiving, perfect—made it impossible to think, let alone breathe.

He sat below you like a throne you were chained to—hands gripping your waist as you rode him, every bounce, every grind a test of how far he could push you before you shattered.

“ Please…” You gasped, tears threatening to spill.

“ Please—let me come—”

His hand snapped up to your throat, just above the collar, holding you still as your hips stuttered and your lips trembled.

“ No.”

You whimpered.

“ Not yet.” He said darkly, eyes locked on your face.

“ You want to cum? Then you earn it.”

He leaned in, his masked face just inches from yours. The low flicker of light gleamed across the geometric edges like a blade in the dark.

“ Say my name.”

Your breath hitched.

“ Y-Your name…?”

He was silent. The chamber, the world, the game paused in that moment.

Then, a whisper:

“ In-ho.”

The name.

A real name.

His name.

It struck you harder than any command.

Your lips parted, breath faltering. You stared at him, not the mask—through it. Because now, something cracked. You weren’t just his plaything. Not just his good girl in silk and ruin. You were the only one he gave truth to. The only one who now held something real.

“ Say it.” He growled, his voice unsteady, almost desperate.

“ Say it like you mean it.”

Your lips trembled. Tears gathered in your lashes—not just from pleasure, not just from pain, but from the storm of everything he'd done and everything you still felt.

“ In-ho…” You whispered, your voice breaking.

He sucked in a sharp breath. Your hips moved again, this time not for obedience—but need.

“ Again.”

“ In-ho…” You gasped louder, riding him harder now.

“ Please, In-ho, I need—please—”

“ That’s it.” He hissed, thrusting up into you, matching your rhythm.

“ Only you get to say that name. Only you.”

You were unraveling.

The vibration kicked again.

His grip tightened.

And your orgasm hit like a violent wave—pulling a scream from your throat, your nails digging into his chest, your entire body breaking as you moaned his name again and again, like it was the only thing anchoring you to this world.

“ In-ho—!”

He groaned your name back, his mask pressing to your neck as he buried himself deep one final time—spilling into you as your body shook in his arms.

He didn’t move.

Not for a long moment.

Just held you. Inside and out. Breathing like a man who had just confessed something far more dangerous than a name.

And as the silence wrapped around you once again, he whispered near your ear—this time without a command, or cruelty.

Only the truth.

“ Now you know who I am.”

And somehow, that made everything far more terrifying. Because now…you couldn’t forget him even if you tried.

Your body was still trembling, collapsed against his chest, your breath ragged and shallow, skin damp with sweat and the ghost of everything he’d just drawn out of you. The collar still pulsed faintly against your throat—like it, too, refused to let go of you.

But none of that compared to the heaviness of the name you’d spoken.

The name he gave you.

In-ho.

Not the Frontman.

Not the mask.

Not the myth.

Just In-ho—raw, unguarded, and his.

You laid your head against his shoulder, lips parted, silent now as reality slowly crept back in. His arms were still wrapped around you, tight and steady, as if your body grounded him.

As if your voice—saying his name—had undone something he wasn’t ready to confront.

“ You said I’m the only one who gets to say it.” You murmured softly, your voice scratchy.

“ Why?”

There was a long pause. He didn’t answer right away. His gloved hand slowly moved up your spine, dragging across your skin with quiet care.

Not lust.

Not power.

Something different.

“ Because the others don’t matter.” He said finally, voice rough, low.

“ They only see the mask. You see what’s beneath it.”

You raised your head slowly, your mask still resting beside the chair, forgotten.

“ Is this still a game to you?” You asked, your tone no longer obedient—just…tired.

“ Am I just another player you can control?”

He didn’t flinch. But he also didn’t answer. Instead, he lifted one hand and reached for the edge of his own mask.

And for the first time…he removed it.

You blinked, stunned.

No shadows.

No pretense.

Just a man—exhausted, older than he once was, but still him. Eyes dark, searching. The same eyes that once met yours across the barracks of the dorms when you were both just trying to survive.

His name had changed.

His role had evolved.

But his guilt had never left.

“ I didn’t plan for this.” In-ho said, voice quieter now.

“ I didn’t plan for you.”

You stared at him, heart pounding—not from fear anymore, but confusion. Emotion. Danger.

“ Then what is this?” You asked.

He reached out and took your chin between his fingers—not rough, not demanding.

Just real.

“ Something I can’t afford.” He whispered.

“ But something I’ll destroy anyone else for trying to take.”

And just like that… the Frontman was gone.

There was only In-ho.

And you weren’t sure if that made him more terrifying—

Or more human.

The air was thick with something unnamed—no longer lust, no longer just power. As you straddled him in the velvet chair, the weight of In-ho’s gaze without the mask pierced deeper than any command he’d ever given you.

He wasn’t hiding now.

Not behind titles.

Not behind threats.

Not behind that cold, jagged mask.

Just him.

And that was more dangerous than any gun he’d ever held to someone else’s head.

You didn’t move—afraid that if you did, whatever moment this was would shatter under your fingertips. Your hand moved on its own, brushing a strand of damp hair from his forehead. He didn’t stop you.

“ So much blood.” You whispered, searching his face.

“ So many lives…”

His jaw clenched.

“ Don’t.” He said lowly.

“ Not when I finally let you see me.”

But you needed to say it. You had to.

“ You killed Jun-bae.”

He flinched. It was subtle, but it was there. You felt it ripple through him like a crack in stone. His hands fell from your hips. His eyes dropped for the first time.

“ He was going to talk.” He muttered, as if trying to convince himself all over again.

“ I warned him.”

“ He trusted you.” You replied.

“ We all did.”

Silence.

And then—

“ I didn’t want you to become part of this.” He said, voice tight.

“ I thought if I stayed distant, if I left you alone after the first round…you’d be eliminated. You’d be safe.”

You almost laughed. Bitter. Quiet.

“ So your plan was to let me die?”

“ No!” He snapped.

Then softer: “ It was to keep you from becoming something I couldn’t control.”

That stopped you cold. He looked back up at you, and this time, there was no wall in his eyes.

Only fear.

Not of you hurting him.

But of you leaving.

“ You’re the only part of this world that I didn’t build.” He confessed.

“ The only thing that slipped through the cracks.”

“ Then why use me?” You whispered.

“ Why fuck me like a possession? Why break me just to glue me back together again?”

His hand reached up again, thumb grazing the underside of your jaw.

“ Because I don’t know how to love anymore.” He said.

“ Only how to keep.”

The words hit harder than any moan, any order.

And for the first time, it didn’t feel like a game.

It felt like two broken people—both survivors of the same hell—staring at each other in the aftermath, holding shards of who they used to be.

He leaned forward slowly, this time not hungry, not demanding. Just…tentative.

And when his lips met yours, there was no mask between you.

Only the truth.

Only silence.

And the terrifying possibility that whatever this was… wasn’t over. But maybe—just maybe—it was becoming something real.

...

The silence after chaos was always the most deafening. Your body was limp, boneless against him, your forehead resting on his bare shoulder as the last echoes of what just happened still pulsed faintly in your skin.

Your thighs trembled from exertion, your breath ragged, your heartbeat slowly settling—though the emotional storm inside you had only just begun.

And then…he moved.

Gently.

Without a word, In-ho reached behind your neck and unclasped the collar. The soft buzz that had long since blurred into background heat finally ceased. You let out a faint breath as he slid it away, placing it down carefully as if it were fragile glass.

“ Too much?” He asked quietly.

You blinked, surprised at the softness in his voice.

You nodded faintly.

Then paused.

Then nodded again.

He didn’t scold you for your answer.

Instead, he leaned in and placed a single kiss at your temple—barely a touch—and then gathered you carefully into his arms.

No commands.

No harsh grip.

Just care.

His strength was effortless as he lifted you from the chair, cradling you against his chest. You buried your face against his skin—warm, real, unfamiliar now in this vulnerable stillness.

He carried you across the room to the bed tucked behind a curtain of dark velvet. You hadn’t even noticed it before.

He laid you down gently, and the mattress welcomed you like a cloud. The softest thing you’d felt in weeks.

“ Don’t move.” He said.

“ Just rest.”

You watched him disappear into the adjoining washroom. Moments later, he returned with a basin of warm water, a towel, and the same care he once reserved only for manipulation.

This time…it was different.

He sat at the edge of the bed and began to clean you—starting with your thighs, slow, deliberate strokes, never too firm, never too cold. His gloved hands were gone now.

Skin on skin.

Real.

Human.

You flinched once, but he immediately paused.

“ Sorry…” He said.

“ I didn’t mean to…”

You reached out, lightly touching his wrist. A silent reassurance.

He resumed, gentler now. And when he was done, he cleaned himself quickly, then returned and slipped into the bed beside you.

For a while, neither of you said anything. Just the steady rhythm of your breathing, the weight of the dark silk sheets, and the warmth of his body pressed lightly against your back as he spooned you from behind.

One arm wrapped around your waist—tight enough to hold, loose enough to let you go if you shifted. But you didn’t. Because even if you should hate him for everything—

Right now, in this quiet moment, he was no longer the Frontman.

Just In-ho.

And he was holding you like he’d feared losing you all along.

His lips brushed your shoulder as he whispered, “ You’re still here.”

A statement.

A question.

A quiet kind of hope.

And you—half-asleep, sore, emotionally frayed—murmured the only answer that made sense.

“ For now.”

And for the first time…

That was enough.

You lay still beneath the soft silk sheets, your sore body curled against his. For the first time since entering this nightmare, you felt warmth not tied to power or pain—but presence.

His. The one person you never expected to find again…and certainly not like this.

In-ho’s breath was steady behind you, chest rising and falling with a quiet rhythm that almost lulled you to sleep.

Until he spoke.

“ No matter what happens…in the final game.” He said, voice low and unguarded.

“ I want you to know—I'm glad I found you in this hell.”

You blinked, eyes adjusting to the dim room. He was still holding your hand, fingers lightly tracing the lines in your palm as if memorizing the path back to you.

“ I never expected anyone to slip past the walls I built.” He murmured, voice bitter with memory.

“ Those walls were made to survive. To protect what was left of me. But then…you wrecked them.”

He smiled faintly, you could feel it in the way his lips grazed your shoulder. But his tone wavered, soft and hollow—filled with something deeper than guilt.

It was longing.

“ Somehow, in all of this blood and silence, you made me remember I’m still a man. That I still feel. That maybe…”

“ Maybe I still believe there's hope. Even if I’ve shown it the wrong way.”

You turned to face him slightly, enough to meet his eyes. There was no mask now. No armor. Just In-ho—raw, tired, and human.

“ I didn’t think there’d be anything left after this storm.” He continued, brushing your hair away from your face.

“ But then you…you were like a rainbow after the downpour. Unannounced. Unexplainable.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but he gently shook his head and reached for your hand again.

“ Listen to me…” He said, his voice suddenly steadier. Urgent.

“ In the next hour…things may fall apart. This game—it’s not just a show anymore. It’s a fuse about to burn out. I might not make it.”

Your stomach twisted.

A lump formed in your throat.

“ But you…” He said, tightening his hold.

“ You will. I’ll make sure of it. You’re getting out of here, alive. You have to.”

His gaze burned into you—pleading, commanding, loving.

“ Promise me you’ll stay alive. No matter what. Live. Because you deserve that.”

You nodded, the tears already brimming.

“ You’ll find Gi-hun.” He added.

“ If he’s still standing—help him. Finish what he started. Take it all down, piece by piece. For Jun-bae. For everyone who died thinking this place was their only option.”

You wanted to break, but he held you together with those words, like they were bricks and he was building something new.

“ If I make it out…” His voice cracked slightly.

“ I’ll find you. I swear. Wherever you are in this fucked-up world—I’ll come.”

He pulled your joined hands to his lips and pressed a long, lingering kiss to the top of yours.

“ And if I don’t…”

“ I’ll wait on the other side.”

“ Until the day you come to me.”

You looked at him through the blur of tears. His face. His real face. His trembling smile that tried to hide fear. His fingers tangled in yours like a lifeline he refused to let go.

“ In-ho…” You whispered.

“ Promise me...” He said again.

“ You’ll live.”

You nodded, voice cracking.

“ I promise.”

And for a moment, there was no game.

No blood.

No masks.

No chains.

Only two souls, clutching each other in the eye of a storm—hoping to find one another again if the winds ever stopped.

...

The heat of the flames reached even across the water. You sat beside Gi-hun in the small, weathered boat, drifting slowly away from the hell that had consumed so many.

Behind you, the island burned—red and gold, like the eye of some forgotten god finally closing.

The sound of distant explosions and collapsing structures echoed across the ocean like the final gasps of something ancient dying.

Your eyes never left it.

Neither did your heart.

He had kept his promise.

You had kept yours.

But he—In-ho—was gone.

At least…as far as you knew.

Your fists clenched tighter on your lap as the wind whipped past, tasting of salt, smoke, and unfinished business.

“ I thought you died.” Gi-hun’s voice broke through, quiet, haunted.

“ Back in the rebellion…I saw those bastards drag your body.”

You didn’t look at him, but you gave him a faint nod. You weren’t ready to speak. Not about what really happened. Not about the nights.

The truth.

The name you spoke was like a prayer and a curse.

Gi-hun was staring ahead at the burning island, his jaw tight. His hair was wind-tossed, face pale but alive—barely. He’d won. But like you, he didn’t feel like a survivor.

Just…left behind.

“ Only two of our team made it.” He murmured.

“ You...”

“ You and me.”

You glanced at him. He tried to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. And then—he looked to the man sitting across the small boat, silent, isolated by choice.

Jun-ho.

His face was cold and unreadable, eyes locked on the island as if trying to see through the fire for someone who never returned.

“ That’s Jun-ho.” Gi-hun said bitterly, lowering his voice.

“ He’s the detective who helped get me back here. He’s the one who leaked everything to the authorities.”

You finally turned toward Jun-ho fully. He didn’t react. Didn’t blink. Just watched the island burn like a man watching a piece of his soul go with it.

“ He’s also…” Gi-hun scoffed, bitterness creeping in.

“ The Frontman’s brother.”

Your breath caught.

You already knew.

But hearing it from Gi-hun’s mouth, so casually, so wounded—it carved a new bruise into your chest.

“ Or Young-il. Or whatever name he lied to us with.” Gi-hun muttered, fists clenched on his knees.

“ He knew. He knew all along. And said nothing.”

You didn’t answer.

Because you couldn’t.

Not yet.

Jun-ho finally looked at you. His eyes were sharp, deep, mourning. Maybe not for you—but for the man behind the mask.

His brother.

His blood.

You met his gaze—and in the brief silence between the three of you, something unspoken passed. A shared grief. A guilt none of you could outrun.

“ You knew, didn’t you?” Jun-ho asked softly.

You said nothing.

You didn’t deny it either.

The island behind you groaned one last time—another explosion rippling through the smoke and embers. What was left of the facility crumbled into itself, vanishing beneath the flame-lit sky.

The Games were over.

But your war wasn’t.

You weren’t done.

Not yet.

“ There’s still more…” You whispered finally, voice low but steady.

“ This doesn’t end with fire.”

Gi-hun looked at you, brows furrowed. “ What do you mean?”

You didn’t look back at him. You kept your eyes forward—on the sea. On the smoke. On the memory of In-ho’s hands in yours, and the promise that still echoed in your chest like a bell:

“ If I survive, I’ll find you. If I don’t…I’ll wait.”

Somehow, in the depths of your soul, you knew—

This wasn’t the end.

Not for him.

Not for you.

And not for the ghosts still hiding behind the masks of the world.

Author's Note:

Here's the continuation of Or Nah, which some of you requested—so here it is. This would be the final part. You can consider the previous chapter to be an ending, but this chapter can also be considered an ending—it all depends on your preferences or what makes you happy.

It's a little heartbreaking, but Squid Game doesn't have a happy ending either, so why should this story deserve one? Just kidding.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading. Don't forget the warnings I mentioned previously.

Read with responsibility.

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