Archive of Our Own

Gi-hun regretted asking to join the games.

A ridiculous part of him expected that being a vampire would aid him in taking down the games. An even more ridiculous part of him expected to be given appetite and strength suppressants to try and counter that advantage. 

Neither expectations were true. 

He wasn’t given suppressants, in fact, his body had ridded itself of the effects of his own by now. And it was hell. 

He hadn’t had a taste of human blood since the day he was turned. He’d been surviving off animals, the equivalent of scraps for sustenance, few and far between. And now he knew how effective his suppressants were. If holding back and feeling the hunger wasn’t completely easy with the suppressants, which was one of the only things Gi-hun used his money for and took rigorously, it was exceedingly harder without them. 

It all meant one thing: He was hungry, and terribly so. 

Being surrounded by hundreds of humans made his skin itch, the instinctual part of him waking up to scream at him to get his fill.

He’d been hungry for all of those three years. But he never felt any hunger like this one. 

As everyone walked to the first game, he reassured himself that he could control himself. He can get through this. All he has to do is channel that hunger. Use being a vampire to his advantage. He can save these people, just as he planned, it didn’t matter if he was their natural predator. 

He did just that, and despite the ever-growing hunger–the lust to drive his fangs into nearby bodies and feast, the delicious and potent smell of the blood of the man he tried to save–he quickly learned to tame the beast that was himself without the aid of drugs. 

When food came, Gi-hun didn’t hesitate to get a meal in hopes it had meat, which would potentially quench his hunger to make at least a little bit more manageable.  He had learned that one on his own the past three years with his refusal to research his kind. Something about understanding vampires solidified the fact he was one–and he didn’t want any more reminders. 

He learned that meat wouldn’t do much, but at least it would be something, even if the hope of getting out of here made the thought of eating sick to his stomach.  

Instead, it was almost the same lunchbox meal from his previous games. Not only did the familiarity seem to dissuade him despite his hunger, but so did the lack of meat. He pushed his off to the side, impassively watching as a passerby snatched it up for themself. 

“Just like my mom used to make,” Jung-bae had said after taking a seat beside him. “What’s in yours?”

Jung-bae looked down to notice the lack of Gi-hun's food. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

Gi-hun watched out of the corner of his eye as Jung-bae picked up a spoonful of rice and brought it towards his face. Gi-hun turned, frowning. 

“Look, you’ve got to eat. You know what they say, ‘eat up, even on your deathbed.’ Just do your thinking while you eat, or after. Here.”

Jung-bae continued to bring his spoon to Gi-hun’s face, despite his obvious rejection. He even went ah, as if treating Gi-hun like a stubborn child would get him to eat. When Gi-hun didn’t budge, he finally gave up. 

If Jung-bae had known Gi-hun was a vampire, would he be getting this close? Would he run and hide? Would he tell everyone that Gi-hun is a monster that is thirsting for their blood? Would he even understand what Gi-hun was? It made Gi-hun think. 

There is no way anyone could find out. The best-case scenario was that they get out as soon as possible, with Gi-hun’s vampirism concealed. 

Gi-hun tried his best to hide his anger when Jung-bae suggested the worst–that at least the players staying meant they would make more money. It was even harder when Player 001, who Gi-hun felt like was the sole reason they were still there, came up to tell him he was the reason he chose O. 

He was stuck in this hole of his own failure—cursed to feel hunger over the ones he wanted to save, indirectly leading them to the mouths of worser predators. 

Gi-hun chose not to comment, instead listening as this stranger prodded him for other answers. Gi-hun tried his best to ignore him…and the smell of the blood against his cheek. It was getting increasingly harder to suppress the urge to wipe it off and lick it from his own fingers. 

Even after their argument and Jung-bae’s obnoxious greeting with his new friend., Player 001 stuck around. 

“For someone who wants to save us, you seem awfully shy now.” 

He was right, he chose to sit away from the crowd. The fact he even still let Jung-bae near him was a defiance of his internal promise to not let himself get too close. For all he knew, the hunger could overpower all of his desperate restraint and he could pounce at any second. But it did make him look like a coward, someone they couldn’t trust. His head throbbed with the realization that he’d be losing no matter the case.

“He just came over here to pout,  wouldn’t even eat his food!” Jung-bae added, “You can’t blame him, though, can you?”

Player 001 eyed him. “You didn’t eat?”

Gi-hun gritted his teeth at that. “I can’t stand to eat here. How can I feel hungry after that?”

As if prompted to ruin his day, his stomach growled loudly. Gi-hun hid his face in his hand in embarrassment. 

Player 001 chuckled, making Gi-hun want to escape the situation even more. 

“I-” Gi-hun began defending himself, but he stopped. Why did this cocky fucker care if he ate anyway? 

Player 001 stared, blinking as if unamused. “There’s always next time.” 

…

Young-il, Gi-hun had later learned 001’s name was, had come to him that night. He wanted to talk out their argument, even apologized for it. 

When he had explained why he needed the money–that his wife and unborn child had died, leaving Young-il alone, jobless, and in debt–Gi-hun felt a twang of empathy and familiarity inside him. 

Young-il was so vulnerable, in such a similar place Gi-hun has been. Gi-hun had been shocked with how much Young-il was willing to trust him. It made Gi-hun angrier. All these games do is take advantage of people at rock bottom. Young-il wasn’t trash, he just had shit cards dealt to him. The frontman would never understand that. 

As he watched Young-il hold himself, he made a mental note to protect him in these games. Gi-hun was a vampire; he naturally had more strength. Sure, it was evened out by the constant lack of sustenance, but Young-il was basically putting all his trust in Gi-hun that moment. He needed someone to call a friend, someone to get him out of there. 

“456-ssi, why did you come back?” 

Gi-hun was startled out of his thoughts. He met Young-il’s gaze. “Didn’t you ask me that before?”

Young-il nodded. “You only said the money didn’t belong to you.”

Gi-hun broke the eye contact, sighing. “I just want to stop the games. I’ll do whatever I can to make sure less players die at the hands of these people, but it seems so far my plans have failed.”

“It’s hard, isn’t it?” Young-il asked, pausing for a moment before he continued. “Smelling the blood of the players you failed to save.”

What felt like a shock of lightning struck Gi-hun hard–a painful, full body jolt as if caught in the act of doing something wrong.

Why did Young-il say that? Did he know? No, there was no way he could know. Gi-hun hadn’t given himself away. Plus, any normal person would keep themselves far away from Gi-hun and warn everyone else. There was no way Young-il knew. He was just trying to understand Gi-hun, and just had some coincidental word choices that Gi-hun’s paranoid mind was honing in on. 

Heat crept up his neck. He couldn’t stand to look anywhere but down, knowing Young-il were to meet his gaze if he were to look up. He doesn’t know how he would feel if he met Young-il’s eyes to see that he knew his words were painfully true. If anyone were to find out, they’d scatter away like prey. They would no longer trust him, and while Gi-hun understood, he couldn’t have that happen. 

He swallowed a lump in his throat before answering. “Yeah, it is.” 

In the remainder of his conversation with Young-il, he tried not to notice Young-il’s tendency to cock his head to the side, leaving his neck exposed. There was no reason to look, even if it was a magnet for his hungry eyes. 

Yet, it was a struggle to push away the troubling thought of sinking his teeth into his new friend.

…

A body was writhing under the vice grip of his hands, screaming as an attempt to alert others for help. It was futile. His fangs had already pierced their neck. 

Blood filled his mouth. Sweet, rich and satiating bloomed across his tastebuds. 

Once he was done draining them, their body dropped heavy, dead beneath him. Surrounding him were more drained corpses, all laying in the sandy playground boxed in by walls of blue skies and clouds stained with wasted blood. 

Gi-hun wanted to scream or run in horror, but he was powerless. His body felt deathly still, caked in stone.

When he looked down to his last victim at his feet, Young-il’s corpse stared back up at him. Pale lips tilted up in a slight, sharp grin before Gi-hun jolted awake.

…

He was wrong about the next game. 

The other players yelled at him, threw baseless accusations his way, but all he could do was apologize. The guilt and the hunger made him timid, his head hanging low. 

But it was made better when Young-il had unexpectedly stepped up to defend him. And Gi-hun’s heart had raced, hearing Young-il say that he still trusted him, and that he still wanted to be his teammate. 

The race didn’t look so hard when they got into their team. It was Jung-bae and his friend. Gi-hun and Young-il. And a young pregnant woman, who Gi-hun naturally wanted to protect when she had looked at all of them for safety. 

Though, he also wanted to tell her to go find another team to protect her from himself, especially when he got a chilling image of driving his fangs into her. In his instinct-driven mind, he drained her completely of her blood and left her fetus to rot with her. The mental image made him so sick he nearly couldn’t stand. 

Their team had run through the first three parts of the race smoothly. Except when it had come to Young-il's turn, spinning top. 

He couldn’t seem to get it to spin. 

When Gi-hun picked up the spinning top for him, he tried his best to ignore the blood stuck to his hands from the floor. A swallow, a lick of his lips to control himself. There was nothing he could do but think about cleaning it up off the floor as he watched Young-il try again. 

Gi-hun tried his best to get Young-il to calm down when he had resorted to hitting himself and screaming insults. He knew from dalgona just how intense it could be to have the time tick by, not caring that you’re about to fail and lose your life. He could only imagine it's worse when other people’s lives are on the line too. 

But he had noticed in all his conciliation that it was all too easy to push Young-il’s hands away from himself. Gi-hun had forgotten how easy it was to use force. If he wanted to, he could press anyone to the ground and take what he wanted from them. 

It was a good thing, he reminded himself, to be stronger than the average person. He could do his job more easily this way. He could use it to protect Young-il and the others, ignoring the urge to just give it all up and consume them. He could use his strength to make sure he didn’t do that to them. 

His thoughts made him look like a joke when the game was over, when Gi-hun was forced to watch in horror as the other leftover team was gunned down. The smell of blood had permeated all the way to him, making him choke on his failure once again. 

… 

Gi-hun began to lose more hope watching the players continue to vote to stay. 

When he had tried to step up, Young-il had done it for him. A weight had been lifted off of him, but it had seemed as if it caused the opposite of their intentions. The players wanted to play one more game.

Well, if they wanted to do that, then they shouldn’t be surprised when they lose and Gi-hun satiates himself on their blood.

There was a lump in his throat from the unwelcome thought. He shouldn’t have been thinking these things. He couldn’t let the games turn him into an all-consuming monster. The players deserved to get out of there, despite the majority wanting to stay. 

The next meal had been just as meager as the last, if not more. Pushing down the desperate frustration, he realized everything leading up to this point had seemed to make him hungrier. It was bordering on painful. 

After Young-il had given Jun-hee his milk, and the attention turned to her, he looked at Gi-hun. “Are you okay? You haven’t touched your food. And we both know from the last time that you’re hungry.”

Gi-hun felt caught, despite his best to hide it. He decided on telling the truth, just not the reason behind it, expecting Young-il not to question it further. “I don’t want it, I just know this will just make me feel sick.”

“Why?”

“Oh-uh-I don’t know,” Gi-hun sputtered. “I’m just too stressed right now, anything will just upset my stomach.” 

“Hmm,” Young-il hummed knowingly, but fortunately left him alone after that. 

…

Gi-hun had told them to sleep under the beds at lights out. Frustration grew when Young-il told him he was overreacting, that no one would attack them. 

“In the last games, dozens of people killed each other at night. Right here.” Anger pumped hot in veins at the fact Young-il would undermine him like that. Being a vampire must have heightened his emotions like that, but he tried to remain as collected as possible. “You have no idea…how people can change in this place, what kind of monsters it creates.”

Young-il watched his vexation with an expression Gi-hun couldn’t place. Though once Gi-hun was done, he glanced around in surrender. “Monsters…Right. I guess I didn’t know what I was talking about. I’m sorry.” 

As Gi-hun put their mattresses under the beds, he thought about their conversation and what the games had done to him.

The thought of getting attacked in the night wasn’t so bad in the back of his hungry mind. He would have an excuse to overpower them. He’d just be defending himself. No one would see in the flashing lights that he had them pinned to the floor. The chaos would distract from their pained groans as he drank them dry. 

And what if it was Young-il?  Young-il wouldn’t attack him for him to need to defend himself, but Gi-hun could easily just jump him in the middle of the night and drink from him. After, he would keep him alive–a way to really drive home his point on what the games turn people into. 

His insides burned with desire and starvation. It was almost nauseating. The games did create a monster, he supposed.

…

The conversation he had with Jung-bae that night gave him hope for the next day, but trying to sleep the rest of the night was a challenge.

Every inch of him stung with desire for blood. A hunger and thirst unlike anything he had experienced. 

He had to do something.

Knowing how to feed was the tricky part, as he had never had let himself do it. 

After searching his surroundings for a witness, he ran his tongue across his teeth. They were human, which meant he had to figure out how to bring out his fangs. Sure, he’d gotten animal blood from butchers, but he had never even had his fangs out, save for his final game with Sang-woo. But he didn’t remember why or how they came out. At that time, he had just assumed it was because he was recently turned. 

But It was a lot easier than he thought. Apparently, If he focused enough, his intentions of drinking blood were enough to will them to grow out.

Albeit small, their sharp presence shocked him for a moment. They reminded him of what he was at the end of the day, a vampire, desperately thirsting for human blood. 

Still, he was relieved that he had control over them. 

He brought his arm up to his mouth. 

Taking a deep breath, he dug his fangs into the meat of his arm, stifling a groan of pain as he began to drink. The usual metallic taste that filled his mouth surprised him. Sure, maybe it was less appealing because it was his own blood he was drinking, but he expected blood to taste better to a vampire. Maybe he should have done actual research when he was turned. But if he did that, he probably wouldn’t even have to try this. 

He forced himself to drink a few mouthfuls before finishing. It should suffice for the rest of his time there, which was hopefully for not much longer. Maybe even the gross taste would be enough to trick his brain into finding blood unappealing. 

…

Gi-hun woke up hungrier.

Terrible gnawing pains at his sides that made him unwilling to get out of bed–but also, newly, bile rising in his throat like he was getting sick. The memory of drinking his own blood last night, metal filling his mouth made his stomach churn. When he took his chance to go to the bathroom, he could only empty his own blood into the bowl. 

He hadn’t noticed that Young-il followed him until he heard him speak from outside the stall. “Gi-hun, are you alright?” 

Gi-hun coughed, wiping red on the underside of his sleeve so that hopefully no one noticed. “Yeah! Of course. Just wanted some privacy.”

“I heard you vomiting,” Young-il said. “I am a little worried. I never saw you eat anything, so you must be sick or–” 

“No, I’m fine.” Why won’t this bastard just leave him alone? “Just got a little nervous about this next game. That’s all.” 

When Young-il finally left, Gi-hun got out of the stall to look at himself in the mirror. It was awful. He looked pale, malnourished, eyebags deeper than he’d ever seen. Panic curls in his growling stomach. If his thirst was just going to get worse, what would he turn into? It could be any moment that he snapped and attacked someone. 

Walking out of the bathroom, he swallowed his worries. He needed to worry about saving the players and ending the games. If he’s spent three years prioritizing that despite his growing hunger, he can keep doing it. 

Young-il cradling his own hand with his other and standing sheepishly away from the crowd was certainly a sight to see when he came back. Before he could ask why, he got hit with the smell of his blood. The scent made him dizzy–a mix of sugar and something Gi-hun’s hungry mind told him he’d

smelled before. Maybe whiskey, a rich, expensive one. 

He wanted to ask what happened, but his head was reeling. Once the picture entered his head of slicing through Young-ils neck, he stepped back a few. 

“Ah, sorry. I know I’m bleeding everywhere. Accidentally slit my hand on part of the bed. Some of those corners are sharp, you know?” Then, Young-il looked at him with pleading eyes. “The games are about to start. Can you please help me clean this up? Who knows if this might hinder my ability for the next game…”

His mind clouded at the sight of blood, rendering any intelligible sentence foggy and distant. He couldn’t think of anything else to do other than to help his friend out. He was right. What if Gi-hun refused and then it did end up hurting his ability to complete the next game? He had promised himself to protect Young-il. He needed to do this. Any other more logical options were completely thrown out by his unfulfilled lust for blood. 

“Yeah,” he blurted, struggling not to look like he was going insane as he mindlessly followed Young-il to the bathroom. 

They cleaned Young-il’s hand up over the sink, Gi-hun watching as precious blood flowed uselessly down the drain. They blotted the rest with napkins. 

The smell was dreadful. Gi-hun had no words to call it other than sticky. Sticking under his nose, on the hands he used to help clean it. It was torture. 

He couldn’t control it when his vision tunneled in on the bloody napkins. The red wads of paper looked harrowingly appealing. All that wasted blood–if only he could have cleaned it with his mouth instead.

He shut away his guilt as he pocketed the bloodiest for later. 

…

Mingle had started as every other game.

Gi-hun worried about everyone’s life while trying to save his own. Though, even if he had been shot, he wouldn’t have died. 

When Young-il had to leave their team, Gi-hun was faced with the fact that he cared a whole lot about Young-il’s life. Which didn’t bother him. It should be that way. He had promised himself to protect him. 

But he caught himself trying to smell if Young-il’s blood had been spilled. 

It wasn’t. 

Young-il was alive, and Gi-hun was happy. It scared him, how soon the connection between them was made. Gi-hun was not someone Young-il should trust. 

Gi-hun had to put up a wall and make his distance before it got too serious. Surely, he could protect Young-il from afar. 

It seemed that Young-il wouldn’t let him, because when it was down to two, Young-il grabbed his arm and went running for one of the rooms. 

It was all going fine, but before Gi-hun could reach the room, a man knocked him over. 

Young-il yells at him to get up and manhandles the man away. Gi-hun doesn’t have time to be shocked and alarmingly flattered, because when they finally get into their room, there is another man in there. 

“Get out,” Young-il growled. 

He didn’t even let the man explain himself. He took him in his arm, taking him to a corner to squeeze his neck tight. 

Panic lit up inside Gi-hun. Surely, this wasn’t happening. 

He didn’t know what to do. He could let Young-il kill this man to save them, but Gi-hun didn’t even need saving. Unless the frontman had plans now for him to die, maybe a guard loaded with a stake, but that was doubtful. At the same time, if he didn’t, both Young-il and the other man would die. Still, Young-il being forced to stoop this low wasn’t right. 

And all he could do was watch in terror as Young-il snapped the players neck. 

Young-il met his eyes as Gi-hun stared, trembling. No, he wasn’t very scared of Young-il. It was himself he was scared of now. 

Because the sight of a corpse below them, ready for Gi-hun to feast, prepared for Gi-hun by Young-il as if he was a rabid dog bringing his favorite person a recently-killed gift–it all exploded a primal, intense thirst inside him. 

Time clicked by slow as Gi-hun avoided Young-il’s maddened eyes. 

Gi-hun’s gaze instead stuck onto the warm corpse. It was wrong, all of it. Even if players are dead, he shouldn’t even want to feast on them. He would be taking advantage of them, just like the frontman and the vips. 

The only thing he could do was turn around and stick his hands into his pockets, pulling out the paper towel. 

He knew he looked suspicious just turning around like that, but maybe Young-il would just think he was scared of him and not about to do the most strange, shocking, and disgusting thing a person could do. 

It was no longer wet with blood, instead reddish-brown and crusted with it. Would have been the most unappealing thing to anyone else. But the mere existence, the smell, the color–all of it was making him dizzy. 

The taste was even better when it hit his mouth. It was barely there. In hindsight, he was probably tasting the napkin more than anything, but the blood on a starving tongue was enough. 

He moaned quietly. He didn’t even think about Young-il in the room–or the presence of the corpse that triggered him into this state. 

He sucked pathetically at every surface of the napkin. This was his first taste of human blood, and now it made sense why his body desired it so much. 

“Is it good?” 

Gi-hun dropped the paper towel in shock, the one now soaked with his saliva and the remnants of Young-il’s blood he couldn’t get. 

Fuck.

“What?” He didn’t bother to look behind him at Young-il, he was glued at his feet. He imagined a cowering Young-il in spite of the last few minutes, simply trying to make small talk so that maybe Gi-hun wouldn’t pounce. But what he said next destroyed that image.

“I mean, my blood, did it taste good?” Gi-hun could hear the satisfaction through the fog of his mind. “I know you’ve been waiting to have a taste for a while.”

Gi-hun couldn’t believe what he was hearing, turning around after making his teeth go away, he was met with Young-il awfully, close and very much not cowering

Gi-hun’s eyes widened, stepping back. “You--Please. I’m sorry. You can’t tell anyone. Please, it will ruin everything. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Gi-hun. You need to calm down. I won’t tell anyone.” 

Maybe Young-il was scared. Anyone would be. Surely, this was all a facade he was keeping up as to not seem scared. There was no way a human would be okay with a vampire creepily sucking their blood clean from a paper towel it stole. 

“I had a feeling before this–your appearance, the fact you didn’t eat any of the food, the way you looked when blood was spilled. I was a cop–I came in contact with a couple vampires before.” Young-il explained. Unexpectedly, he picked up the napkin. “But I can tell you aren’t one of the bad ones. You seem apologetic for stealing my bloody napkin. I don’t think you’ve even let yourself have human blood before.” 

Gi-hun let him continue. He didn’t even know what to think. Barely could think with his starving mind.

A human, so calm about the daunting vampire right in front of him. 

“We can talk about this later,” Young-il said, and then they were let out of the room. 

…

Young-il had caught him after tying the vote. It was a bit electrifying, being near him again, head still drunk from the traces of blood he got. 

“I still trust you.” That was the first thing Young-il had said. 

Gi-hun swallowed nervously. He didn’t know if it was a good thing that Young-il trusted him. The tang of Young-il’s blood was still on his tongue, and that was barely a trace of it. It was enough to leave Gi-hun wanting more, and that was dangerous. 

“Young-il.” Gi-hun closed his eyes to focus. “You shouldn’t trust me. Right now, I’m holding back. But who knows how I’ll be down the line.” 

Young-il stared, thinking before stepping closer. “You can trust me to help you not get that far.” 

Blood rushed in Gi–hun’s head as he stepped back, nearly tipping off balance.  “I want you to prioritize yourself. I’m stronger and faster than you, there is no way that will work.”

“You have no one else,” Young-il countered. “You can turn me so I’ll be just as–”

“No.” Gi-hun had to put a stop to this immediately. “It’s not that easy. I could kill you.”

When Sae-byeok had turned him, she was hesitant. But she was dying. Sang-woo had staked her. She was just lucky enough to have time on her hands, and Gi-hun was the only hope for her family. So she told Gi-hun to lie back before she drained him from his wrist. Then, opened his mouth and held her wound over it until he finally turned. In her last moments, she apologized for turning him. She had nearly killed him, didn’t even ask before she did it, despite the fact that Gi-hun would be willing to do anything for her. She understood it then–being a vampire was never in Gi-hun's nature. 

“I won’t let that happen.” Then, Young-il cocked his head. “But that’s not the only thing you’re worried about, is it?”

“I’m not turning you.” 

Young-il wanted to be insistent, he supposed he would have to allow it. After what he witnessed, he wasn’t even sure if Young-il was safe to trust. He was violent and persistent. Except from everything else he had seen, Young-il had also been kind and protective. And Young-il was right, he was the only one who knew and therefore the only one he could turn to if worst came to worst. It all just meant this could go wrong in so many ways. But he had no choice. 

“If you want to help, you have to promise me that you will stop me if I get violent, no matter what it takes. Do you understand?” 

Young-il didn’t smile, but the glint in his eye showed he was satisfied Gi-hun didn’t have the time to think about why. “I understand.” 

…

Young-il had seemed cautious about his rebellion idea. There were a couple of knowing looks between them, like he was sure it would fail. 

His disapproval only served to heighten the anxiety the plan gave him. Young-il was one of the only ones who had faith in him. Maybe the whole vampire part was swaying him now. Gi-hun wouldn’t disagree. It made the plan look ten times worse to those who knew. 

As they got into their positions under the bed, Gi-hun turned to Young-il. “Remember what you promised me.” 

Time passed rapidly. The attacks came fast, and it was all a blur until a woman fell dead next to him–one of the ones he was sacrificing with his ridiculous plan. 

His heart kicked up as the blood spilled out of her, a rich red smelling sweet and tart, ready for him to lick up. 

A sound ripped out of him that he never knew could– a deep, grotesque snarl that startled both him and Young-il. 

His composure snapped as he began crawling toward the blood. 

Before he got close enough, he was interrupted by a loud scream coming from one of the players being attacked. He stopped in his tracks. Part of himself cried out at the loss, at being so close to what he needed. 

He couldn’t let himself be like this. He was falling apart. 

So, he resorted to one more thing he could do. 

Spotting a male O player chasing a female X, he made his move. It wasn’t smart to do it in his current state, but he tackled the man, bringing him down hard on the floor. The man groaned in pain, but came to his senses. He was reeling up his arm, ready to finish off his new target, but Gi-hun knocked it away. 

He could dig into their throat, rip it out. It would be so easy. So good. 

A force came up from behind, knocking Gi-hun to the ground. It was another O, who was now straddling him. A punch to the face, and Gi-hun let it happen. 

Gi-hun could barely hear the other player getting back up until he laughed. Gi-hun knew what was coming. They would stab him, and he would let them. They would quickly find he wouldn’t die, then who knows what they would do with that information? 

Or, he thought as hunger pains seared through him, he would attack, and all that he had built would be over.

—but then there were gunshots, a voice telling them the violence was over. Nothing else would be allowed. He expected to hear his teammates trying to steal the guards’ weapons, but not before he was snatched up. 

The bathroom he was brought to was still bloodied. There were dead players lying on the floor. But the horror of it barely crossed his mind, head stuck in a daze and body throbbing with thirst. 

They smelled so good. 

Young-il had to hold him to keep him away from the bodies. He pushed him against the wall to keep him still and also to keep him from curling in on himself in starvation. 

“You’re going crazy.” Young-il sounded breathless, fascinated. 

Temples throbbing, Gi-hun groaned in response. His head tipped forward in an attempt to sway the disorientation. 

“Let me see,” Young-il said. 

Strong hands cupped his cheeks to tip his head back. A thumb, gentle and cold against his burning skin, pushed his top tip up to reveal his fangs. 

“Oh,” Young-il hummed. “So unassuming, like a kitten’s. You acted like they were monstrous. You didn’t even mean for them to come out this time, did you?”

Gi-hun tried to pull away in humiliation. He wanted to bitch back, but Young-il kept him in place. 

Gi-hun whined when Young-il placed the tip of his thumb on one of his top fangs. Barely a press and it pricked his thumb, sending a beautiful smell up to torture Gi-hun’s senses. 

Then, it all went away as Young-il stepped back. 

“They called off your rebellion,” He said. “Looks like we will have to think of something else.”

Wasn’t that obvious, Gi-hun wanted to say. 

“But in the meantime, I think you need help.” 

Young-il took his jacket off, throwing it to the side. “You can’t go on like this any longer, you’re losing your mind.” 

Gi-hun shook his head. “No, I’ll be fine. I-I just need a minute.”

Then, the smell of Young-il’s blood surrounded him, filling him in, eating away at his insides. 

Young-il had wiped his blood under his nose. 

“Smell that, and tell me you want to go back in there. Around all those people you want to save?” Young-il rubbed it down to his lips and inside his mouth, pushing the tiniest amount into Gi-hun’s tongue and watching when he tried to pull back, only for it to be futile. “Taste it, Gihun-ssi. Don’t you want me to help?”

Gi-hun finally got a sense of lucidity, attempting to shove Young-il away. Even in his supernatural strength, he was unable, the hunger weakening him. Weaker than Young-il, at least. It baffled him that Young-il was suggesting he drink from those bodies. It was the opposite of what he wanted. “What is wrong with you? Let me go. I didn’t want you to help like this.” 

Young-il’s gruntled face snapped into an apologetic one, eyes growing glassy, but he didn’t let Gi-hun go. “I’m sorry. I’m just trying to help. I don’t want you to be hungry anymore.” 

At the moment, it made sense. Gi-hun told him to help at any cost, and those bodies were dead. It wouldn’t be wrong to just have a sip, would it? 

He can’t. “No, it’s wrong. I was supposed to keep them alive.” 

As if more couldn’t throw Gi-hun off about Young-il–he laughed, delighted. Much like the laugh when he told that joke earlier in the games. “That isn’t what I’m suggesting.”

Gi-hun’s eyes widened. 

A whirlwind of lust and shock at the thought of drinking from Young-il nearly sent him spiraling. Young-il continued chuckling as Gi-hun looked at the ground.  He was beginning to feel bullied, like Young-il found it all so amusing. 

“Sorry,” Young-il apologized. Gi-hun had no other explanation than the games driving him crazy to suggest such a thing. He could kill Young-il doing that.

A few moments passed, Gi-hun’s words stolen from him by the taste of Young-il on his tongue. It was agonizing. 

Finally, he spoke. “Youngil-ssi, I can’t. What if–”

“I told you, I’ll make sure nothing happens.” Young-il’s tone seemed to be growing increasingly sharp at Gi-hun's refusal. It started to scare Gi-hun, his desperation. 

“No, I won’t do it,” Gi-hun stated, firm. Then, he moved to leave. 

Young-il wasn’t letting it happen. Quickly, he tossed Gi-hun against the wall again. In an aim not to panic, Gi-hun told himself this was normal. Young-il was being a good friend. He was keeping him from snapping. Gi-hun was only being trapped because he was the danger. 

“Come on, Gi-hun,” Young-il inched his pricked thumb from a grasp on his jaw to his mouth open in shock. “I just want to help. You were so desperate for it earlier. Admit you need it.” 

Young-il inserted a fang into his thumb again, this time deeper, causing blood to drip into his mouth. 

Gi-hun couldn’t help it—he closed his mouth around the thumb, beginning to suck wildly.

“Yes, just like that.” 

An embarrassing sound erupted from Gi-hun as he continued. 

It would be a better idea to stop. An even better idea to leave and never give into the temptation again. But he was starving, and Young-il's blood, whiskey and honey, was intoxicating. 

It felt like forever until Young-il removed his thumb, bloody saliva dripping off of it. “Good, but that won’t be enough.”

Gi-hun drunkenly let his head be guided to Young-il's throat. His thumb pushed open Gi-hun’s mouth, positioning it right at the junction between his neck and shoulder–and he pushed. 

Once Gi-hun’s fangs pierced Young-il’s throat, all composure left inside him shattered.

From there, Young-il’s blood was sweeter—a dangerous taste that weakened Gi-hun in the knees. Young-il was there to catch him.

Sucking madly, he let blood fill his mouth. He moaned around it, desperately clawing at Young-il’s shoulders. 

What a pathetic sight he must be–but that was a picture that was never introduced to Gi-hun’s worries. Every thought, every sense–it was all about the blood rushing down his throat, his thirst being fulfilled. 

He closed his eyes in twisted, revolting pleasure. 

Young-il was mainly motionless under him, letting him take his fill. Gi-hun barely registered it–along with Young-il’s hand that was carding through his hair–as if Gi-hun was the one in pain. 

The more blood that filled Gi-hun, the more he dipped into a cloudy, unaware space. 

So unaware, he didn’t notice that he was hard. That… and humping Young-il’s leg wildly. 

It was all gone too quickly when Young-il pulled away. “N-No, please,” He whined pathetically. That’s when he realized he was achingly hard. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” 

Young-il shushed him, focused on laying him down on the ground. “It’s okay. We’re just moving.”

When on top of him, Young-il pushed his head back into his neck. 

He whimpered against Young-il’s throat as he lapped at his ruined throat, waiting for permission to sink back in. 

Meanwhile, Young-il’s thigh sat firmly between his, teasing against his aching bulge. 

“Take what you need, jagiya.” Young-il grinded against his clothed dick. Yet another reason to hate those stupid tracksuits. “Take everything. You’re so good like this.” 

Gi-hun did just that.

After returning his fangs—he hesitantly rut against Young-il, this time aware. 

The drag against his crotch burned as much as it did sate. But it all mixed into a fervent, overwhelming feeling. He was so sensitive, more than he had ever been. 

Young-il’s throat vibrated with Gi-hun’s incessant moans. Each thrust Gi-hun made sent shivers throughout his body, and he was already inching terribly close to his release. 

Young-il had to use force to pull him away from his throat again. Gi-hun’s rutting didn’t cease when Young-il hungrily kissed him. The nature of it—biting his lips and tongue and exploring his mouth with his own—was almost like he was consuming him back. Tasting his blood on Gi-hun’s tongue, he moaned. 

“You love it, don’t you?” Young-il asked. 

It all went unheard to Gi-hun, who was nearing an orgasm under him. 

A single thrust from Young-il, followed by hands forcing his hips down, broke him out of the building heat in his gut. “What did I say?” 

Gi-hun moaned, all sense long lost. “Please, I can’t—please, I was so close.” 

“I said, you love it, don’t you?” Young-il mouthed at his throat, teeth nipping at the skin as if an attempt to bite back. “You need me.”

The nod from Gi-hun in response wasn’t enough. Young-il lightly gripped Gi-hun through his pants, causing him to yelp, eyes beginning to water. “Answer me.”

“I love your blood. I need it.” When that wasn’t exactly what Young-il wanted to hear, he gripped harder. “I need you.”

“Good,” Young-il praised. 

Young-il didn’t immediately let him go back to what he was doing. Instead, he flipped them so that Gi-hun was on top, man-handling him into placing Young-il’s thigh outside of his. Once Gi-hun was essentially straddling him, he took Gi-hun’s face into his hand.

“Look at you,” Young-il slurred. His hand snaked into Gi-hun’s sweats, but unfortunately for Gi-hun, not under his boxers. He pressed his palm against him again, smiling when Gi-hun keened and thrusted down. “My vampire.”

“I wish I could keep you like this forever.”

Tears began to fall when Young-il started to rub him through his boxers. Quickly, Gi-hun resorted to begging. “Please, please. I just need to—Please keep touching me. I need you.” 

Young-il wouldn’t let up. Gi-hun sobbed pitifully when he brought him back to his neck. Obediently, he drank. 

The combination of Young-il’s blood and his hand had him reeling. It was nothing he had felt before. 

“Go on, take it all.” He moved his hand from palming Gi-hun to wrapping around his dick, wet from his own blood and fluids. “Drain me.” 

Gi-hun’s instincts gave him no other choice but to listen. He gorged in generous mouthfuls, not considering the consequences. 

Young-il's tight hand dragged in a slow, excruciating rhythm.  This time, he didn’t let any thought cross Gi-bun’s mind that he could set the pace with a hand on his hips. 

Thoughts flew from Gi-hun’s mind. All senses focused on Young-il like nothing else existed but his gentle hand and the warm, sharp taste of his blood. So warm it set Gi-hun’s insides ablaze. 

Gi-hun was sobbing against him. He couldn’t place if he was crying for more or for it to stop.

A vampire, once so scared of ruining humans, now ruined by one. Nothing more than a pet. 

The heat inside him finally snapped when Young-il tightened his fist and kicked up the pace. Climax flashed like lightning with Gi-hun coming hot into his hand, trembling above him. 

It felt like it lasted hours, time and relief turning his brain into liquid.  

The orgasm had him falling down like a dead weight on top of Young-il. He was full, rejuvenated, but the feeding and the stimulation was all too much. A fuzziness filled his brain, sending him deep into the part of his brain that only thought Young-il. 

He was still drinking mindlessly when he was flipped over again.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” Young-il's voice was so grounding. Nothing else mattered to him. “You’re alright. It’ll be over soon.” 

He had no idea what Young-il was saying, only felt the soft caress of his hand against his cheek. He didn’t know if he wanted more, but he let Young-il zip his jacket and push up his shirt.

Soft, sweet kisses down his chest until Young-il stopped at his abdomen. He resumed rubbing Gi-hun’s half-hard cock through his pants, sweat sticking to the friction. Bouncing back like that must have been a vampire ability Gi-hun didn’t know about, but it was still overwhelming. 

Still, Gi-hun was so full, so taken care of, that he’d let Young-il do anything. 

Only it was too late when Gi-hun registered the sharp, throbbing pain, the mouth against his skin, and the revolting, lively slurping sounds.

“What-What’re you—“ Gi-hun’s head was so heavy in his attempt to look at what was happening. All he could see was Young-il’s head and blood pulling underneath his body. 

Young-il, at some point, had stabbed him in the stomach. And now it was his turn to consume. 

“No!” Gi-hun wept, trying in futility to shove Young-il’s pressing weight away. 

Young-il groaned, ravenous, loud—standing strong against Gi-hun’s writhing, kicking body as he drank.

Gi-hun’s body quickly gave up when the loss of blood forced his arms to fall limply to his sides. His mind returned to a void, leaving him breathless and unable to protest. All he could do was weep pitiful tears of betrayal. 

What a mistake it was to trust this human, he lamented. 

“Don’t cry,” Young-il said when he was finally done. “You don’t have to worry about anything anymore, not even about being the monster. All you need is me.”

A bloody kiss was the last thing he remembered before the void completely swallowed him.