gs29

[gs29]

—Pause the game.

Pairing: the salesman/recruiter x wife!fem!reader

Summary: your husband had some ‘work’ to take care of with the two people that had been trailing after him all day, but when your call came in, and when he found out that you felt sick, you became much more important than whatever he had going on.

Warnings: mainly fluff, mentions of Woo-seok and Jeong-rae following snd spying on him, some parts of the Russian roulette game, he’s soft for you, he misses you, English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, not proofread, sorry!

Word count: ~ 1.4k

The day had been long, even by his standards. A hundred lottery scratchers, a hundred loaves of bread, the park, the homeless. He had been up to a little ‘social experiment’. Even then, he caught onto the two men who had been trailing behind him since the subway station.

He wasn’t stupid. Someone was after him, and these two lackeys were clearly here to track him down. His best guess? Seong Gi-hun.

Woo-seok and Jeong-rae had been following him like shadows—clumsy ones, attempting to blend in with the surroundings every time he stopped, as if they expected him to turn around and strike at any moment. And eventually, he did.

He had let them tail him, then to his surprise, they made the first move down an alleyway to avoid losing him. By the time they realized they had made a mistake, it was too late. He had taken them down quickly, efficiently, the way he always handled these things. No emotions, no hesitation.

Jeong-rae had gone down first, crumpled to the ground. Woo-seok tried to fight back with the poor attempt of using a small knife, but a sharp blow of the suitcase to his head had knocked him out.

Now, they were sitting across from each other, bound to chairs, tied up with ropes, their mouths gagged, their muffled groans filling the dimly lit room. They couldn’t scream, couldn’t beg—just incoherent muffled noises as they squirmed like trapped animals.

He slowly circled the two men, then stopped to place a hand on each of their shoulders, eyes filled with amusement at their looks of terror.

“We're going to play a game now... Rock, Paper, Scissors, Minus One. I trust you know the rules.” his gaze flickered from Jeong-rae to Woo-seok, a smile forming on his lips.

“You form a shape with each hand, then take one away. The game is decided by the remaining hands. Of course, there’s a penalty for the loser.” he picked up the nearby revolver and inspected it, then pressed the barrel to his temple. “Russian Roulette.”

Their muffled protests grew louder, their bodies twisting against the ropes in a futile attempt to escape. The two men were shaking, their breaths heavy as he leaned closer, his finger on the trigger.

Click.

Empty.

His smirk widened as he backed away slowly.

“Alright. Now, let’s play. On my count.”

But then, as he was getting ready to spin the cylinder of the revolver, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

His brows furrowed, the interruption pulling him out of the carefully constructed moment. He pulled the phone out, and the sight of your name on the screen made him pause.

He froze for a moment, staring at the screen as his heart softened. It wasn’t like you to call him in the middle of the day. You knew he was busy—always busy. The ‘work’ he pretended to do required him to keep odd hours, to vanish without explanation, and you never questioned it. You trusted him. And he loved you for that trust, even if he didn’t deserve it.

His thumb hovering over the answer button before taking a deep breath and sliding his mask of indifference back into place. But when he answered, his voice betrayed him. It was warm, gentle—a tone he reserved only for you.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft, the edge it had carried a moment ago completely gone. He shot the two men a warning look, his eyes narrowing as if daring them to make a sound.

Turning away from them, his tone dropped into something almost tender. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Your voice came through the line, quiet and tinged with vulnerability. “I… I didn’t mean to bother you. I just… I’m not feeling well.”

He could hear the catch in your throat, the faint rasp. “Are you sick?” he asked, straightening.

There was a pause on your end, then a soft sniffle that nearly broke his heart. “Yeah. Just a cold, I think. My head hurts, and I’m all stuffed up.”

He closed his eyes, letting out a slow, steadying breath as guilt twisted in his chest. You sounded miserable, and he hated that he wasn’t there to take care of you. Hated that he was here, in this cold room, when he should’ve been home with you.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured. “I know you’re busy. I just… I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said quickly, his voice gentle but firm. “You can call me anytime, okay? I mean it. Anytime.”

There was a pause, and then he heard another sniffle on the other end. It made his chest clench. “Where are you?” you asked. “Are you coming home soon?”

He glanced down at Woo-seok and Jeong-rae, their wide, panicked eyes watching him like trapped prey. The revolver gleamed on the table beside him, a stark reminder of the life he led when he wasn’t with you.

For the first time all day, he felt a pang of guilt—not for them, but for you. For the life he kept hidden from you. You had no idea what he did, the darkness he waded through every day. And he wanted to keep it that way. You were his light, his one connection to something pure and good in a world full of shadows.

“Soon,” he promised, his voice softening even further. “I’ll be home soon."

You didn’t reply right away, but he could picture you nodding, your lips pressed into that small, tired smile you always gave him when you were sick. He could see you in his mind—wrapped in a blanket, your hair messy, your cheeks flushed from the fever.

“There’s soup in the fridge,” he added gently. “I made it this morning. Heat some up, okay? And the heating pad’s in the bottom drawer. You’ll feel better if you use it.”

“Okay,” you murmured, your voice tired.

“I love you,” he said, the word coming out more vulnerable than he intended.

“I love you too,” you replied, and he could hear the faint smile in your voice despite the cold.

His chest tightened at the sound of those words. He glanced away from the two men on the floor, his jaw clenching as he fought the sudden wave of emotion that threatened to rise. “Now go rest, my love. I’ll be home soon.” his voice was thick with sincerity.

When the call ended, the room was silent. He stared down at the phone in his hand, his mind still on you.

For a moment, he let himself imagine walking through the door of your shared apartment, dropping his keys on the counter, and finding you curled up on the couch. He’d press a kiss to your forehead, make sure you were warm, and hold you until you fell asleep. That was all he wanted.

But instead, he was stuck here.

He slipped the phone back into his pocket and turned his attention to Woo-seok and Jeong-rae. His expression hardened once more. “Well,” he said. “Where were we?”

He reached for the revolver, spinning the cylinder with a practiced flick of his wrist. The sound echoed through the room, sharp and final.

“Rock, paper, scissors,” he said, his tone almost mocking. “Loser gets to test their luck with this. Simple, right?”

He crouched down in front of them, his movements slow and deliberate, as if savoring their terror.

They shook their heads frantically, their breathing heavy, protests muffled by the gag. He sighed, standing up and running a hand through his hair. “You know,” he said, his voice almost casual. “I’d love to stay and play, but I’ve got someone waiting for me at home. So let’s not drag this out.”

Their muffled protests grew louder, but he didn’t care. This was his world. His game.

And when it was over, he’d go home to you. To the warmth of your love, the softness of your touch.

You didn’t know what he was. What he did. And he intended to keep it that way.

Because as long as you were safe, as long as you loved him, he could pretend—for just a little while—that he was someone worth loving.

[gs29]

Ddakji, Giggles, and Family

Squid Game Master list

The evening was peaceful in the small but cozy apartment where Gong Yoo and his wife, Y/n, had created a little home. Their baby, a bundle of giggles and chubby cheeks, was sprawled out on the living room rug, happily babbling to himself. The room was filled with soft lights, and there was a sense of warmth that hadn't always been there before, but now, with the family complete, it felt like everything was exactly as it should be.

Gong Yoo, now in a much happier chapter of his life, was crouched on the floor beside their baby, trying to show him how to play a game he had once known all too well: ddakji. He had a folded square of colorful paper in his hand, demonstrating the snap motion as he showed his little one.

"Like this, buddy," he said softly, his deep voice warm with affection. "You just slam it down like this."

Their baby giggled and reached for the ddakji, his tiny hands clumsily grabbing it. Gong Yoo smiled fondly, his heart swelling with love as he watched his son’s innocent attempt.

Beside them, Y/n watched the scene unfold, an amused smile tugging at her lips. The guards—who now served as the family's quirky “uncles”—were sitting off to the side, all dressed in their signature green tracksuits. Though their past was filled with tension, now they were just a group of goofy, overly excited men trying their best to be good role models for the baby.

"Okay, let's see what you've got," one of the guards, now wearing a pair of oversized sunglasses indoors, said with mock seriousness. "Show us your skills."

The baby, still holding onto the ddakji, tried to bash it onto the floor in an attempt to mimic his father, but instead, the square just fluttered weakly to the side, landing with a soft thud. The room fell silent for a moment, then erupted in laughter.

Gong Yoo shook his head, chuckling. "Not quite, kid. But you’ll get it. We all start somewhere."

Another guard, more reserved but equally excited, leaned in closer. "Let me try. Maybe it’s the technique!"

He took the ddakji from the baby’s hand, trying to make an exaggerated motion with it. But just as he flicked his wrist, the paper square flew backward and landed on the kitchen counter.

"Oops! Well, I guess we’re not all born with the talent," he said, feigning disappointment, causing another round of laughter to fill the room.

"Y/n, help us out!" Gong Yoo called to his wife, as the guards started debating who had the worst ddakji skills.

Y/n grinned, stepping forward, and effortlessly demonstrated the game, slamming the paper with precision as it snapped perfectly.

"You guys just need more practice," she said, giving Gong Yoo a playful look. "Not everyone can be born a natural like me."

"Hey, you can't just show us up like that!" one of the guards exclaimed.

"Yeah, you’ve gotta show some mercy!" another added, pretending to look offended.

Gong Yoo watched with amusement, his arm casually draped around his wife’s waist as their baby clapped, his little hands making delighted noises. It was impossible not to laugh at the scene—guards, who were once so serious and intimidating, now reduced to playing silly games for the sake of the baby.

As the evening wore on, Gong Yoo scooped up their little one and held him high in the air, making airplane sounds as he zoomed him around the living room. The baby’s laughter was contagious, and even the guards couldn’t help but join in.

“Guess we’ve got our hands full with this little one, huh?” Gong Yoo said, his eyes glinting with pride as he looked at his family.

“Absolutely,” Y/n agreed, her heart full. “But it’s the best kind of full.”

And as their baby continued to laugh and the guards tried (and failed) to teach him how to play ddakji, the room was alive with joy. Gong Yoo leaned down to kiss his wife’s temple, whispering, “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

The laughter, the warmth, and the love filled every corner of the room, creating a new chapter of their story—one that had nothing to do with games, danger, or survival. This was a game of love, and in this one, they were all winners.

[gs29]

A Lovely Morning

Squid Game Master list

The first rays of sunlight peeked through the soft curtains, casting a warm golden glow across the room. The early morning air, still cool with the remnants of the night’s rain, smelled fresh and clean, as if the world had just been given a new start. It was the kind of morning that made everything feel right, quiet, and peaceful.

Gong Yoo lay beside you, his long body tucked under the blankets, his dark hair mussed from sleep. He had a way of waking up slowly, as though he was savoring the moment. His breath was steady, and the rise and fall of his chest beneath the sheets provided a comforting rhythm that made the morning feel like it was unfolding just for the two of you.

You were still half-asleep, your head resting on the soft pillow, your hand gently holding the edge of the blanket. The warmth of his body next to you, the quiet stillness of the room, and the familiar feeling of his presence made it feel like time was standing still. You didn’t want to break it, but you couldn’t help yourself. You reached out, gently running your fingers over the back of his hand. The soft brush of your fingertips against his skin made him stir.

Gong Yoo’s eyelids fluttered open, and when he saw you looking at him, a soft smile stretched across his face, the kind of smile that could melt any lingering traces of sleep. “Good morning, love,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep, yet so warm and comforting.

“Good morning,” you replied, your voice still a little groggy from just waking up. You shifted closer to him, resting your head on his chest. The steady beat of his heart was a lullaby that calmed your mind, grounding you in the present.

He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer as if to say he never wanted to leave this moment either. His hand lightly stroked your back, the tender touch sending a wave of warmth through you.

“Did you sleep well?” you asked, your voice a whisper as you traced small circles on the soft fabric of his t-shirt.

Gong Yoo hummed in contentment, his hand gently caressing your hair. “Better now that you’re awake,” he replied, his fingers playing with the strands of your hair. “It’s strange, but I always sleep the best when I’m next to you.”

A light laugh escaped you, and you felt a warmth bloom in your chest. "You're a charmer," you teased, your fingers tracing the edge of his jaw, still feeling the remnants of sleep there.

He smiled, a lazy grin that softened the features of his face. “Well, I do try,” he said, his eyes sparkling with affection. “But seriously, every morning with you is perfect.”

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling your heart flutter a little. There was a simplicity to mornings like this, when the world outside hadn’t quite woken up, and it was just the two of you in this cozy little bubble. There were no worries, no rush, just the quiet intimacy of being together.

The silence stretched between you for a moment, peaceful and warm, until you yawned, stretching your arms above your head. “How about we make breakfast?” you suggested, your voice still soft, but carrying the hint of the day ahead. “I’m craving something warm.”

“Mmm, breakfast sounds perfect,” Gong Yoo replied, his eyes narrowing in a playful manner. “Pancakes?”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing up at him. “Pancakes? You just know how to make the best ones, don’t you?”

His grin widened, and he lifted an eyebrow in mock arrogance. “I do pride myself on my pancake skills,” he said, the light teasing tone never leaving his voice. “But you’re going to help me, right? Teamwork makes the dream work.”

You chuckled, sitting up and stretching your arms. “Fine, but I’m only agreeing to help if I can eat as much of the batter as I want.”

“Deal.” He smiled, leaning forward to kiss you on the forehead. It was a sweet, soft kiss that made you feel all warm inside. “You go grab the ingredients, and I’ll get the pan ready. Sound good?”

You nodded, sliding out of bed and heading toward the kitchen, the soft creak of the floorboards beneath your feet making the morning feel even more cozy. Gong Yoo followed you into the kitchen, his tall frame looming just behind you as you rummaged through the cabinets, gathering flour, eggs, milk, and a few extra ingredients for your special pancakes.

“What about chocolate chips?” he suggested, peeking over your shoulder as he found the bag of chocolate chips in the pantry. “You know how much we both love those.”

You grinned, taking the bag from his hand and tossing a few extra handfuls into the bowl. “Why not? Let’s make them extra special today.”

Together, you worked in sync, measuring and mixing, your soft conversation flowing in between moments of silence. Gong Yoo was never in a rush in the mornings—he enjoyed every little moment. His hand brushed against yours as he passed you a spatula, his touch warm and familiar. You laughed when a bit of pancake batter splashed onto his shirt, and in turn, he tickled you when you weren’t paying attention, making you squeal and squirm away from him.

"You’re lucky you're cute," you said, wiping the batter off his shirt with a rag, even though he clearly didn’t mind.

“I think you’re the lucky one,” he said, his voice low, teasing, but there was a sincerity in it that made your heart skip a beat. “I get to wake up with you every day.”

A small blush crept across your face, and you felt your chest tighten in that familiar way when he spoke from the heart. It wasn’t just the grand moments, but these little exchanges that made you fall deeper in love with him every single day.

Finally, the pancakes were ready—fluffy, golden brown, and topped with a generous sprinkle of chocolate chips. You set the table while Gong Yoo drizzled syrup on top, his careful movements showing how much he cherished these small moments.

Sitting down across from him, you both dug in, the sweet taste of pancakes filling your mouth. For a while, there was only the sound of forks clinking against plates, a soft background hum of the world outside, and the occasional hum of contentment from both of you.

“This is perfect,” you said, glancing up from your plate to meet his eyes. “I don’t think I could ask for a better morning.”

Gong Yoo smiled, his eyes soft as he reached across the table and took your hand. “I agree,” he said. “As long as it’s with you, every morning will be perfect.”

You squeezed his hand in return, feeling that familiar rush of love for the man who made even the simplest moments feel special. In that quiet moment, surrounded by the warmth of your home, you knew that this was what happiness looked like—shared mornings, shared laughter, shared love. Simple, yet perfect in its own way.

And as the morning light continued to fill the room, you both sat there, savoring the peace that only came from knowing you were right where you were meant to be. Together.

[gs29]

The Dance of the Baby

Squid Game Master list

It had been months since the chaos of Squid Game had ended, and life for Gong Yoo and his wife had settled into a quiet routine. Their little family, now with a baby, was the light of their world, bringing warmth to every corner of their home. Their son, Jin, was a curious little boy, already walking and babbling in his own way, full of energy and wonder.

One sunny afternoon, while Gong Yoo was at work and his wife was finishing up some household chores, little Jin seemed unusually excited, almost as if he was aware of something big. His tiny hands clutched his favorite toy, a little drum, and he bounced in place, his giggles echoing through the house. Without warning, Jin toddled toward the door.

His wife, a little distracted with making lunch, didn’t notice at first. By the time she turned around, Jin had already made it to the front gate, his small hands gripping the handle.

"Jin!" she called out, but it was too late. The baby had slipped outside and was heading towards a place neither of them expected—the old warehouse where the Squid Game guards used to gather. Though the guards had long since dispersed, the building still stood, a ghost of its past.

Curious as ever, Jin waddled inside.

Gong Yoo returned home later that afternoon, only to find his wife frantic, pacing around the house.

“What happened?” he asked, noticing the panic in her eyes.

“It’s Jin! He’s gone!” she exclaimed, her voice shaky. “I—he just… went out the door, and now he’s gone!”

Gong Yoo’s heart skipped a beat. They both knew that the old warehouse was no place for their child, even if the guards had vanished.

“Don’t worry,” Gong Yoo said, taking her hand. “We’ll find him.”

The two of them rushed to the warehouse, fear and concern rising in their chests. As they entered, they heard something unexpected.

A soft melody.

Jin stood in the middle of the large, empty room, his small drum in his hands, tapping rhythmically. Around him stood the guards—each of them wearing their iconic uniforms, the same ones they had worn during the Squid Game. They were younger than Gong Yoo remembered, and their faces were soft with curiosity rather than the cold indifference of their past.

And they were… dancing.

The guards, once feared for their ruthless efficiency, were moving in perfect unison, following every tap of Jin’s tiny drum. Some of them clapped in time with the beat, others swayed, their feet tapping lightly against the cold concrete floor. It was as though the rhythm had taken control of them, a spell they couldn’t resist.

Gong Yoo and his wife stood frozen, unsure whether to laugh or cry. But seeing Jin—so small, so innocent—leading the once-feared guards in a playful dance, all fear melted away.

“What… is happening?” his wife whispered.

Gong Yoo chuckled softly. “I think our son just became the leader of the squad.”

As if on cue, Jin looked up, a big grin on his face, and clapped his hands, causing all the guards to stop in their tracks, eyes wide, waiting for his next move.

Gong Yoo stepped forward, breaking the odd stillness.

“Jin,” he called gently, walking toward his son. “What are you doing here, little one?”

The baby giggled, his chubby cheeks puffing out, and then he started drumming again, louder this time. The guards immediately resumed their dance, more energetically than before.

“We should take him home,” Gong Yoo said, still in awe of the sight before him. He reached down to pick Jin up, but the baby protested with a whine, tapping the drum on Gong Yoo’s head as if to say, Not yet!

“Seems like he’s not ready to leave,” Gong Yoo said with a smile. He glanced at the guards, who had now formed a circle around them, clapping and nodding along.

His wife laughed, the tension of the moment finally breaking. "Well, I suppose we should let him finish his concert."

The small group stood there for a few more minutes, watching as Jin led the guards in a little impromptu performance, the atmosphere light and full of joy. Gong Yoo couldn’t help but think how surreal this moment was—his son, in the heart of a place that had once been full of danger, now the center of attention, bringing laughter and life to what had once been a symbol of fear.

Finally, as the sun began to set, Jin seemed satisfied. He dropped his drum, reached up to Gong Yoo, and giggled, as if to say, I’m done now, Papa.

With a relieved sigh, Gong Yoo scooped him up, and with his wife by his side, they left the warehouse behind. The guards waved them off, a final reminder that the strange and haunting past of Squid Game was now just that—a past. Jin had, in his own innocent way, transformed it.

As they walked back home, Gong Yoo kissed his son’s forehead. “Who knew,” he said, shaking his head, “you’d be the one to tame the guards.”

“Guess he has the moves,” his wife replied, laughing.

And for the first time in a long while, everything felt right. The baby, the guards, the strange and unexpected dance—it was all a symbol of the peace they had fought so hard to find.

[gs29]

The First Step

Squid Game Master list

The late afternoon sun filtered softly through the living room window, casting a warm, golden light across the room. The apartment was peaceful, almost like time had slowed down just for them. Gong Yoo sat on the couch, his legs stretched out in front of him, a mug of tea in hand that had long cooled. His attention, though, wasn’t on the tea. It was on you and the little one.

Your son was in the middle of the room, sitting on the soft carpet surrounded by his favorite toys. His little legs were still wobbly, but every day he seemed to gain a little more balance, a little more confidence. The baby’s innocent giggles echoed around the room as he reached out, trying to grab something just out of reach.

Gong Yoo watched with a soft, proud smile, his heart swelling in ways he never thought possible. He never could have predicted how deeply he'd fall in love with this little person who had somehow transformed his life.

You were sitting on the couch beside him, sipping your tea, your eyes following the baby’s every move. You seemed so calm and content, watching him grow, watching him discover his world. Gong Yoo leaned in slightly toward you, catching your gaze. You smiled at him, and he returned it with a grin.

“I think he’s getting ready to walk,” you said, your voice full of wonder.

Gong Yoo chuckled softly. “Not yet. He’s still trying to figure out how to crawl properly.”

But just as the words left his lips, the baby shifted his weight. He was trying to push himself up, standing on his hands and knees, rocking back and forth with that look of concentration. Gong Yoo’s eyes narrowed slightly, his heartbeat quickening as he watched.

The baby, now wobbling more than usual, paused, looking directly at Gong Yoo. The moment felt like it stretched in time. His tiny legs trembled slightly, his gaze locked onto his father, who was crouching a few feet away. Gong Yoo’s voice softened, almost a whisper.

“Come on, little one,” he said, his eyes filled with pride. “Come to dada.”

For a moment, the baby’s gaze flickered between his father and the carpet, almost as if debating whether to make a move. And then, as if something clicked, the little one took a tentative step forward.

The world seemed to slow down. Gong Yoo’s breath caught in his throat. Did he really—?

The baby took another small, wobbly step, then another, and before Gong Yoo knew it, the little one was stumbling toward him, his chubby hands reaching for him. Gong Yoo’s heart exploded with joy.

“Oh my god,” he muttered, barely believing it. His eyes widened in amazement as he stretched his arms out, ready to catch the little one. “That’s it, that’s it! Come on!”

With a final unsteady step, the baby landed right in Gong Yoo’s arms, and he immediately scooped him up, pressing him against his chest as he laughed in pure joy. “You did it! You took your first steps, buddy!”

The baby giggled, clearly pleased with himself, his tiny hands reaching up to grab onto his father’s shirt. Gong Yoo's heart was pounding in his chest, his voice full of emotion as he looked down at the tiny face in his arms. “You’re my little champion,” he whispered, a proud smile on his face.

You, sitting back on the couch, couldn’t help but laugh at the pure joy radiating from him. Gong Yoo turned to you, eyes sparkling with happiness.

“Did you see that?” he asked, his voice filled with disbelief. “He came straight to me.”

You smiled warmly at the sight of your husband cradling your son, a moment of pride written all over his face. “Yeah, I saw. He took his first step… to you.”

Gong Yoo raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “I think this is my win,” he said, glancing down at their son, who was now happily chewing on his father’s sleeve. “I got the first step.”

You raised an eyebrow in return, amusement dancing in your eyes. “Oh? So mama doesn’t count?”

Gong Yoo chuckled, giving you a look of mock indignation. “He said mama first, that’s true. But first steps? That’s all me.”

You shook your head with a laugh. “You’re getting cocky now. I think you’ll be saying mama a lot more than dada for a while.”

Gong Yoo pouted dramatically, his playful tone laced with feigned frustration. “I’m going to have to teach him dada properly.”

You smiled at him, watching the joy radiate off of his face. There was something incredibly special about this moment—the baby’s first steps, the way he looked up at his father with pure trust and love, and the way Gong Yoo held him, so proud and happy, like he’d just won a huge victory.

As he held the baby close, Gong Yoo’s expression softened, the playful banter fading away. “You’ll always be my hero,” he whispered, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment. “He’ll always know dada is here, no matter how many steps he takes.”

The baby cooed, wiggling in his arms, and Gong Yoo kissed the top of his little head, not caring about the small tantrum of jealousy that had run through him just moments before. He’d won this moment, and nothing else mattered.

And as he watched the baby begin to wiggle in his arms, trying to stand again, Gong Yoo knew one thing for sure: this little boy, his son, was going to change everything for him. Every step, every word, every laugh. It was all a gift—a gift he’d treasure for the rest of his life.

I hope you like this version with Gong Yoo! I tried to keep the balance of playful jealousy, deep emotion, and the joy of being a father. Let me know what you think, or if you'd like any tweaks!

[gs29]

Behind the Mask: A Family's Promise

Behind the Mask: A Family's Promise Master list

Squid Game Master list

Chap 1

Chapter Two: Introductions in the Shadows

The fluorescent lights buzzed softly overhead as the guards gathered in the break room—a rare moment of stillness in a place built on chaos. The room smelled of cheap instant coffee and exhaustion, but tonight, there was something different in the air. A quiet anticipation.

“She’s really coming?” one of the guards asked, adjusting his mask despite the fact that none of them needed to wear it in this room.

The others murmured in agreement, shifting in their seats. It wasn’t every day that something pure entered their lives.

The door creaked open, and all eyes turned toward it. You stepped in first, wrapped in a warm coat, cradling the small bundle in your arms. Your husband followed closely behind, his usual tense posture softened as he glanced down at his daughter.

Silence settled over the room, the kind that wasn’t uncomfortable—just unfamiliar. The men, who had spent years watching death, now found themselves staring at new life.

“Well?” your husband said, his voice laced with something between pride and nervousness. “Are you just going to stare, or are you going to say hi?”

One of the guards, an older man who rarely spoke, stood first. He removed his mask, revealing a face weathered by time and experience. He stepped closer, peering down at the baby with hesitant curiosity. “She’s… tiny,” he muttered, as if speaking too loudly might disturb her.

You smiled. “She’s only a few weeks old.”

Another guard leaned forward, his usually gruff voice uncharacteristically soft. “What’s her name?”

Your husband glanced at you before answering. “Ji-ah.”

The name lingered in the air, foreign yet beautiful in the bleakness of their world.

“She’s got your nose,” one of them teased, nudging your husband.

“She better not,” he shot back, but there was no real bite in his words—only warmth.

One of the younger guards, practically a kid himself, reached out a hesitant finger. “Can I…?”

You nodded, shifting slightly so he could gently touch Ji-ah’s tiny hand. Her fingers instinctively curled around his, and the room collectively held its breath.

“She trusts you,” you murmured, watching as even the toughest among them softened.

For a brief moment, there was no blood, no orders, no masked hierarchy. Just a group of weary souls gathered around something innocent, something that reminded them there was still good in the world.

One of the men cleared his throat. “You know she can’t stay here long. It’s not safe.”

Your husband tensed but nodded. “I know. I just… I wanted you all to meet her. To know that there’s something worth fighting for.”

A heavy silence followed, but no one disagreed. They all understood too well.

“Ji-ah,” the older guard repeated, as if memorizing the name. “She’s going to be strong.”

Your husband glanced down at his daughter, his grip tightening around you. “She already is.”

And in that small, stolen moment, the guards—killers, enforcers, survivors—allowed themselves to hope.

[gs29]

Jun Ho's Morning: Love, Laughter, and a Little Shirt Thief

Squid Game Master list

It was still early, the soft light of dawn barely creeping in through the curtains, casting a warm, golden hue across the room. The world was quiet, still. But not for long. In the household, mornings were never as serene as they seemed.

Jun Ho slowly stirred awake, the sound of his infant son’s soft babbling and the gentle rustle of his wife, Y/n, as she shifted beside him, pulling the blankets higher. For a moment, he simply lay there, eyes closed, savoring the peaceful cocoon of warmth around him. The baby’s little hands were gripping the edge of his pillow, a tiny hand sticking out from under the covers as he giggled softly to himself.

“Good morning,” Y/n whispered with a small smile, her voice still thick with sleep. She turned toward him, her eyes half-open but filled with that warmth only she could give. Her hair, tousled and wild, framed her face in a way that made Jun Ho’s heart swell.

“Morning,” he replied, voice thick with affection as he reached for her hand. But before he could pull her closer, the baby’s babble turned into a louder squeal, as if demanding his full attention. Jun Ho chuckled and sat up, shaking off the remnants of sleep.

“You’re already awake, huh?” Jun Ho mused, his voice a mixture of amusement and disbelief. The baby, only a few months old, had an uncanny ability to wake up before sunrise, as if testing the limits of his parents’ patience with every giggle and coo.

“Guess we’re not getting any more sleep,” Y/n laughed softly, stretching beside him.

Jun Ho stood up, the cool floor beneath his feet grounding him to reality. He padded toward the closet, but before he could even pull his work uniform off the hanger, a little hand shot out from the crib nearby.

With a tiny, innocent cry, the baby’s chubby little arm reached for his father’s shirt. “Ahh, you want this, don’t you?” Jun Ho smiled, his eyes softening. He crouched down to pick the baby up, carefully lifting him from his crib.

The baby, delighted with his new treasure, grabbed the shirt in both hands, his tiny fingers pulling the fabric with surprising strength.

“Oh no, are you trying to steal my shirt already?” Jun Ho laughed, his voice filled with warmth. The baby cooed, as if to say, Yes, yes, this shirt is mine now! Jun Ho shook his head and gently pried the shirt from the baby’s hands. “I don’t think I can wear it with you having such a tight grip on it.”

Y/n was already sitting up, watching the whole scene with an amused expression. Her eyes sparkled with affection as she saw the bond between father and son growing by the second.

“I think it’s clear who’s in charge around here,” she teased, her voice light and teasing. She stood and walked over to join them, carefully taking the baby from Jun Ho’s arms. “You two are a handful,” she added, kissing the top of the baby’s head.

“Let’s see if we can’t make a deal,” Jun Ho said, standing up from his crouched position. He held the shirt out in front of the baby like a small offering. The baby, without hesitation, tried grabbing it again. But this time, Jun Ho gently pulled it away.

“You can have it back when I come home, okay?” Jun Ho bargained with a playful smile. “But for now, you’ll have to settle for something else.”

Y/n laughed softly and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. “You’re so sweet, Jun Ho.”

With a final look at the tiny shirt thief in his arms, Jun Ho grabbed his uniform and made his way to the bathroom, still chuckling to himself.

By the time Jun Ho had showered and dressed for work, his morning routine had taken longer than usual. The baby was nestled in his arms once more, wrapped in a soft blanket, and Y/n was beside him, both of them showering him with affection.

“I should really be going, or I’ll be late,” he said, but there was a hint of reluctance in his voice. The thought of leaving his two favorite people was harder each time.

Y/n just smiled and shook her head. “You’re not leaving yet.”

Jun Ho raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Before he could respond, Y/n was grabbing her bag, and within minutes, they were all bundled up and heading for the door. Jun Ho blinked in surprise.

“Wait, are we—”

“We’re coming with you,” she said, her voice bright. “We thought we’d surprise you at work today.”

Jun Ho couldn’t contain his surprise. “What? But, it’s a long drive, and… it’s work. What if it’s too busy?”

She just shrugged playfully, her eyes glinting mischievously. “Too bad. We’re going.”

With the baby strapped securely into his car seat, the three of them set off. Jun Ho’s heart raced with excitement at the thought of seeing them both at work, something he never expected. Every second felt like a moment of treasure, a reminder of the love that kept him going even in the hardest moments.

The drive was filled with light conversation and the soft giggles of the baby in the backseat. Jun Ho couldn’t help but glance at his wife every so often, marveling at how she could always make every day feel special, even when it was just a regular morning.

When they arrived at his workplace, Jun Ho’s colleagues didn’t know what hit them. To see their stoic, serious colleague standing at the door with his wife and newborn son in tow was an unexpected delight. The baby, now awake and curious, immediately caught the attention of everyone in the room.

“You brought them here?” one of his coworkers, Minho, asked with a grin. “Jun Ho, this is the best surprise!”

[ smiled softly, glancing up at her husband, who was still processing the sudden shift in his day.

“They wanted to see you,” she said sweetly. “We thought we’d brighten up your workday.”

Jun Ho’s heart felt like it was going to burst from the love and joy surrounding him. The baby, fascinated by the new faces and noises, giggled and reached out to one of the other workers, causing everyone to laugh. For the first time in a while, Jun Ho allowed himself to fully embrace the warmth and happiness of the moment.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy to be at work,” Minho teased.

Jun Ho chuckled, his eyes never leaving the sight of his wife and child. “You’re right, I think I’ve found my new favorite part of the day.”

Y/n gave him a knowing smile. “We’ll leave soon, but we just wanted to remind you… you’re loved.”

“I know,” Jun Ho whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “And I love you both more than anything in the world.”

With that, the day carried on, but Jun Ho felt a little lighter, a little brighter, every time he glanced back at his family. And as they left, the baby’s tiny hands clutching his shirt like a precious token of the morning’s love, Jun Ho knew that no matter where he went or what challenges lay ahead, he would always carry this warmth inside him.

And for that, he was endlessly grateful.

[gs29]

Missing Baby

Squid Game Master list

The wind howled through the empty expanse of the island, carrying with it the chill of a place that had long since lost its warmth. The guards moved in their usual rhythmic patrols, walking silently between the stark, grey buildings and tall fences that marked the boundaries of the compound. Everything was rigid. Everything was controlled.

But today, as one of the guards was making his rounds through the outer courtyard, a faint sound broke through the usual silence—a soft, unfamiliar giggle. He paused, his head snapping toward the source of the sound, his gloved hand hovering near the grip of his weapon. The sound was faint, but unmistakable. It was the innocent, unfiltered laughter of a child.

He took a step forward, scanning the area, his eyes narrowing behind his mask. At first, he saw nothing. The place was desolate, just as it always was. The same high fences, the same grey walls, the same oppressive silence.

Then, he noticed it.

A tiny figure, crawling slowly across the cold concrete, caught his eye. A baby. A small, vulnerable child, no more than a few months old, with a little blanket tangled around its legs. It was crawling toward one of the guards who stood motionless nearby, as if it had chosen him as its destination.

The guard’s heart skipped a beat, and he immediately dropped his hand from his weapon. The baby’s tiny hands pushed against the concrete, its innocent eyes wide with curiosity, its tiny body wobbling slightly as it moved. There was a soft, happy giggle that escaped from the baby’s mouth, followed by a coo, as if it had no idea where it was or what was happening around it.

The guard took a cautious step forward, his gaze flicking around the courtyard, looking for any sign of the child’s parents. But the place was eerily quiet, and there were no other signs of life.

“Where did you come from, little one?” he muttered under his breath, his voice filled with disbelief.

A few more guards who had been patrolling nearby noticed the baby as well. They stopped in their tracks, exchanging glances, uncertain of what to do. The moment was so out of place—so foreign—that they didn’t know how to react.

One of them, the tallest and most imposing of the group, stepped forward. He was known for his cold, calculating demeanor, but now, there was something different in his eyes—something almost hesitant. He lowered his mask slightly as he knelt down beside the baby, his gaze softening just a touch as the baby giggled again, reaching toward his gloved hand.

The baby’s hand grasped at the guard’s finger, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to fade away. It was just the baby and the guard, the cold stone walls of the compound nothing more than a distant memory. The guard blinked, as if trying to understand how this innocent, helpless creature had found its way to him.

"Where are your parents, little one?" he asked softly, his voice quieter than it had ever been in this place. But the baby only responded with more giggles, oblivious to the question, as it reached for the tall guard’s face, its tiny hands swatting at his mask in innocent curiosity.

The other guards stood at a distance, their expressions varying from confusion to awe. They had never seen anything like this in their years on the island. There had been deaths, violence, cruelty—but never a child, never a newborn.

The guard holding the baby straightened up slightly, lifting the small form into his arms, but with care, as though afraid he might break something so fragile. His usual stoic mask had softened, the weight of the situation grounding him in a way that was entirely unfamiliar.

“Has anyone seen… a parent?” he asked the others, his voice laced with a slight tremor of concern. “Where is this child’s mother and father?”

The other guards exchanged uneasy glances, looking around in vain. The courtyard was empty. The baby had appeared out of nowhere, and the world of the island, always so precise and controlled, was thrown into disarray by its mere presence.

One of the younger guards, his voice uncertain, finally spoke up. “Maybe… maybe we should take it to the frontman?”

But the suggestion was met with a series of hesitant glances. The frontman was a figure of power, an imposing force who controlled every aspect of the island. But this wasn’t about the games. This wasn’t about power or control. This was about a child—someone too young to even comprehend the dangers of this place.

The tall guard, still holding the baby, shook his head. “No. We won’t take it to the frontman. Not yet.” His voice was firm, but there was something softer in it, something protective. He glanced at his fellow guards. “We’ll find its parents first. And if we can’t... we’ll take care of it.”

For a moment, the guards said nothing. The weight of his words hung in the air, and despite the cold, oppressive atmosphere of the island, the atmosphere had shifted. There was no longer just the silence of control—there was an almost fragile sense of responsibility.

“We should look for its parents,” one of the younger guards said, his voice hesitant but resolute. “But if we can’t find them... we should keep the child safe. It’s… it’s just a baby.”

Another guard nodded in agreement. “A baby doesn’t belong here.”

The first guard who had noticed the child gently rocked the baby in his arms, his eyes flicking over to the others. “Then we’ll keep it safe. We won’t let anything happen to it.”

The guards, usually so cold and emotionless, now found themselves united in a shared responsibility—one that transcended the rigid rules of the island. In a place where death and violence ruled, there was a moment of humanity that couldn’t be ignored.

The baby, still unaware of the turmoil around it, giggled again, its little hands reaching for the guard’s mask with innocent curiosity. The guards stood around, each of them unsure of what would come next, but one thing was certain: they would not abandon the child.

For a brief, fleeting moment, the island was no longer just a place of darkness and fear. It became something else entirely—something fragile, something new.

And as they looked at the baby, the guard who had first lifted the child into his arms smiled faintly, though it was only for a second.

“We’ll protect you,” he said softly to the baby. “You’ll be safe with us.”

The guards, their thoughts heavy with responsibility, carefully decided on their next course of action. It was clear that the baby was no longer just an anomaly to them—it was a fragile life that needed care, and they couldn’t ignore that.

“We need to find its parents,” the tall guard repeated, his tone now one of resolve. “Let’s move. We’ll start at the main compound.”

With the baby cradled in his arms, the guards made their way through the compound, moving with a strange urgency that wasn’t typical of their usual patrols. The baby, oblivious to the shift in atmosphere, continued to giggle and coo, reaching up toward the guards’ masked faces with wide, curious eyes.

After a few minutes of walking, the guards arrived at a familiar door, the one that led to the private quarters of Gong Yoo—the man they all knew as the enigmatic salesman. They had seen him many times before, walking through the halls with an air of quiet power, always keeping to himself. But today, his presence would be more than a mere formality.

The guards hesitated, glancing at one another. The tall one, still holding the baby, stepped forward and knocked softly on the door.

Inside, you were quietly tending to your son’s things, organizing the small nursery space where Joon—your precious baby—had spent the last few weeks growing more and more curious about the world. You and Gong Yoo had been blessed with your child in a place where such blessings were rare. But you both cherished every moment, every soft giggle and every milestone Joon reached, even in the shadow of the cold island around you.

The door opened, and you looked up, your gaze meeting the tall guard’s. His usual steely demeanor softened as he looked down at the child in his arms.

“Excuse us,” the guard began, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “We… we found this child in the outer courtyard. We’ve been looking for his parents.”

Your heart skipped a beat. There was something about the child that seemed familiar, something that triggered an instinct in you. As the guard stepped aside, you took a few cautious steps forward. Gong Yoo, hearing the conversation, moved to stand beside you.

And then you saw him. The tiny bundle in the guard’s arms, his face squished in adorable confusion as he reached out toward you.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat.

“Joon?” you whispered, barely daring to believe your eyes.

Gong Yoo’s face shifted, his expression one of disbelief. He stepped forward, his arms trembling slightly as he took the baby from the guard. For a moment, it felt as though time itself had frozen. You both held your son—your baby, your Joon—who had somehow made his way into the outer courtyard without either of you noticing.

“He’s safe?” Gong Yoo whispered, a soft relief in his voice as he cradled the baby to his chest, his hands gently stroking the child’s soft hair.

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. “He’s here,” you whispered. “He’s really here.”

The guard who had held Joon in his arms stepped back, silently watching the reunion, his hands folded behind his back. The other guards stood nearby, eyes trained on you both, unsure how to proceed, but somehow aware that the situation had changed entirely.

“Where… where did he come from?” Gong Yoo asked, his voice hoarse, still trying to make sense of what had happened.

The tall guard, who had been the first to find Joon, spoke with careful authority. “We found him crawling in the courtyard. No sign of his parents. We thought… we thought he might belong to you.” His voice softened even further. “We couldn’t leave him out there.”

The guards' concern was palpable, and for a brief moment, you saw something unfamiliar in their eyes—a flicker of compassion, of duty that extended beyond the rigid laws of the island.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, your voice breaking as you took a step toward them. “I… I don’t know what happened. We were so careful.”

Gong Yoo placed his hand on your shoulder, his grip firm as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “We’ll figure it out. He’s safe now.”

One of the younger guards, his expression still filled with hesitation, nodded in agreement. “A child doesn’t belong here,” he murmured, his words heavy with a quiet understanding. He glanced at his fellow guards. “If you need anything… we’re here.”

The tall guard nodded solemnly. “We’ll leave you to your family,” he said, before signaling to the others. They turned and began to walk away, the sound of their boots echoing down the hall, leaving you and Gong Yoo in the quiet of your room with Joon in your arms.

You took a shaky breath, gazing down at your son’s tiny face, his eyes wide with curiosity as he looked up at both of you. A soft smile curved your lips, and you brushed your fingers over his little hands.

“He’s ours,” you whispered, the words tasting sweeter than anything you had ever said.

Gong Yoo smiled, his gaze soft and filled with love. “He is,” he agreed, holding Joon close to his chest. “And we’ll protect him. We’ll give him a life beyond this place.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of the promise settle over you. There was nothing you wouldn’t do for your family. The island had no power over you anymore—not with your son in your arms, not with Gong Yoo beside you. Together, you would keep Joon safe, no matter what.

And as the baby let out a little giggle, reaching for his dad, you both shared a smile, the moment stretching out in the stillness of the room, and for the first time since arriving on the island, the world felt just a little bit warmer.

[gs29]

Posting all my drafts today!!

[gs29]

A Little Jealous

Squid Game Master list

The apartment was unusually quiet for a Saturday afternoon, the kind of quiet that only came when the baby was napping. The sound of the baby monitor hums faintly in the background, a soft reminder that their little one—who was still too young to understand how precious these moments were—was blissfully unaware of just how much his parents were falling in love with him every single day.

You were in the kitchen, moving about the space with a peaceful air, humming softly to yourself as you prepared dinner. He had settled into the living room, leaning back on the couch, the weight of his thoughts momentarily suspended in the calm that surrounded him. It wasn’t often that he allowed himself to fully relax, but with you and their son, he felt at peace in a way he’d never thought possible.

The baby, however, was the true source of his heart’s contentment. He had only been awake for a few minutes from his nap, and you’d already brought him into the living room, cradled carefully in your arms. The little one, barely more than a few months old, had already started babbling more, and each day seemed to bring something new. A smile, a giggle, a new sound. He had no idea how much those sounds meant to him until now.

"Look at him," you said softly, as you sat beside him on the couch, the baby wriggling happily in your lap. You smiled as you stroked the baby’s hair, watching him babble as his chubby little hands grabbed at the air. He made cooing sounds, blissfully unaware of the world around him, his eyes shining with excitement.

Your voice, tender and full of affection, made him glance over. You spoke again, holding the baby up a little so he could see his father. “Say ‘mama,’ baby,” you coaxed gently. The baby let out a gurgling sound in response, and your smile grew wider. “That’s right, mama,” you said softly, as if the word alone made your heart swell.

And then it happened.

The baby, with wide eyes and an expression of complete joy, managed to form a sound that was unmistakable. It wasn’t dada—the word he had been so desperately hoping for—it was mama.

His heart gave a little jolt. Mama? His eyes widened slightly, and for a brief moment, he froze.

You, oblivious to his sudden shift in mood, were smiling down at their son, cooing at how adorable it was. “That’s right, baby! Mama! Say mama, you’re such a smart little boy.”

Meanwhile, Gong yoo who had been sitting with a proud, expectant smile, suddenly felt a little… well, not exactly betrayed, but jealous. He shifted in his seat, trying to keep his reaction under control.

The baby gurgled again, as if to confirm his new achievement, and the salesman couldn’t help himself. “Wait, wait—hold on a second,” he said, leaning closer, trying to hide the hint of playfulness that had already crept into his voice. “He just said mama, but what about dada?” He shifted his weight on the couch, suddenly leaning in toward the baby, his voice turning a little exaggerated in mock frustration. “Come on, little one. Dada, say dada. Dada’s here too!”

The baby looked up at him, his bright eyes wide with curiosity. He stared for a moment, processing his father’s face, then turned back to you with a happy gurgle and cooed again.

“Mama,” the baby repeated, much to the salesman’s chagrin.

He blinked, his eyebrows furrowing for a split second. “I mean… really?” He glanced up at you, trying to hide the playful hint of disappointment on his face. “Are you sure he’s saying mama? He can’t possibly be skipping straight to mama, right? It’s dada time.”

You laughed softly, the sound comforting as you gave him a gentle look. “Oh, I’m sure. He said mama, didn’t you hear him? He’s just so smart.” You paused, looking at their son with adoration. “Of course, he’s smart. He gets it from me.”

The salesman rolled his eyes dramatically. “Yeah, of course,” he teased. “Your genius brain. Well, okay, little guy.” He leaned back, adopting a mock-serious tone. “Let’s try this again. Dada. Come on, dada. Dada’s got you.” He reached out, gently cupping the baby’s cheek with his hand, smiling at the little one.

But the baby just cooed and, with an almost dramatic sense of defiance, repeated, “Mama.”

The salesman could only stare in disbelief. “Are you serious?!” His voice was almost a whisper, full of mock shock, and his playful frustration grew. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for months now. I even let you sleep in my arms. I fed you.” He shifted in his seat and pointed to you. “And you—you’re already the favorite.”

You chuckled, your smile softening with affection. “I don’t think he’s picking favorites just yet.”

But the salesman, clearly putting on a dramatic show, crossed his arms and looked down at the baby with an exaggerated pout. “Fine. Fine. If you don’t want to say dada, that’s fine. I’ll just be over here, plotting my revenge.”

You laughed at his antics, brushing a hand through his hair. “You’re being dramatic. He’ll say it when he’s ready.”

He gave you a teasing side-eye before leaning in closer to the baby again. “I’ll be here, waiting,” he said, his tone light but full of playful determination. “I’m not giving up.”

The baby gurgled happily, his eyes wide and curious. And again, he said, almost like a song: “Mama.”

The salesman sighed dramatically. “You’re lucky I love you,” he muttered, though there was no mistaking the fondness in his voice. He leaned over and kissed the top of the baby’s head. “Alright, I’ll let you have this one. For now.”

You smiled lovingly at both of them, your heart swelling at the sight. "He’ll say dada soon enough,” you said with a laugh. “Just be patient.”

But as the baby cooed again, and the salesman gave one last exaggerated sigh of disappointment, he couldn’t help but laugh too. He knew this moment, however small it seemed, was one he would treasure forever. And when his son did finally say dada, it would be all the more special for the little drama that had led up to it.

[gs29]

The Salesman's Heart

Squid Game Master list

You were making dinner, the aroma of your favourite recipe filling the house, when he walked in, his presence unmistakable even before he stepped through the door. It had become something of a routine: him returning late after his mysterious “business trips,” his sharp suit still as crisp as it was when he left, but his demeanor different—softer, a little more distant.

"You're home," you said with a smile, turning from the stove as you stirred the pot. Your voice carried a warmth, a familiarity that only came with years of knowing someone inside and out. The smile on his face was faint but genuine, like he found peace just being with you.

He didn’t speak right away, slipping his shoes off at the door. As he walked towards you, you noticed the briefcase he was carrying, the way his fingers fidgeted with the edges, a nervous habit that had only started recently.

"Everything okay?" you asked, watching him closely.

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Busy day, that’s all.”

You raised an eyebrow, your suspicion growing. There was a weight to him lately—an energy that didn’t match his usual calm, collected demeanor. He was hiding something. And you had a feeling that something had to do with the strange "sales" job he'd been keeping quiet about.

He’d never told you much about his work, only that it was a “unique opportunity” and that it was "important" to him. The business trips were frequent, and sometimes he would leave for days without a word. You didn’t press him. You trusted him. But tonight… something felt different. Maybe it was the way his eyes flickered toward you, like he was trying to make sure you weren’t going to notice something. Or maybe it was the way he hesitated just a little too long when he took his jacket off, as if he wasn’t sure whether or not you’d be able to tell.

You set the spoon down, walking over to him. "What’s going on, honey? You know you can tell me anything."

He looked at you for a long moment, and for the first time in a long while, his expression faltered. The usual mask he wore—a confident, unreadable face—slipped just enough to show a hint of vulnerability.

“I’ve been… thinking about telling you,” he murmured, his voice low, almost hesitant. “I haven’t been completely honest with you about my work. But I think it’s time you know.”

Your heart skipped a beat. This was more serious than you thought. "What do you mean?"

He sighed deeply, his eyes searching yours as if weighing something heavy in his chest. Then, in a soft whisper, he finally spoke: “I’m involved in something… dangerous. It’s called the Squid Game.”

You froze, the name hitting you like a cold wave. The rumors, the strange reports you’d heard—it all suddenly made sense. But hearing it from him, from the man you loved, made it real. Too real.

“The game,” you repeated, trying to keep your voice steady. “You’re part of it?”

He nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’m not just a player. I’m involved in the sales side of it. I’m the one who recruits people. I make sure they’re… worthy of the opportunity.”

Your stomach twisted. You’d always known that he had a level of ambition that was unmatched, but this? This was something darker. Something you couldn’t fully understand. You wanted to be angry, to shout, to demand answers. But you couldn’t. Not yet. You could only search his face, trying to find the man you’d married—the man who, in your heart, you knew was capable of kindness.

"Why didn't you tell me?" you whispered, your voice cracking just slightly.

He swallowed hard, guilt flashing across his features. “I didn’t want you to worry. I didn’t want you to think… that I was caught up in something I couldn’t get out of. I thought I could protect you from it. But now—” He trailed off, looking almost ashamed. “Now, I don’t know if I can.”

You reached for his hand, gripping it tightly, as if holding onto the man you knew could still be there beneath the cold exterior. “You’re still you, right?” Your voice was steady, even though your heart was anything but.

For a long moment, he didn’t answer. But then, as if weighing the words in his mind, he pulled you closer and held you tight. “I don’t want to lose you. I’ve done things I regret, things I thought would keep us safe. But I don’t want this game anymore. I want you.”

The words felt like a balm to your soul. There was no mistaking the sincerity in his voice. He loved you—truly loved you. And in that moment, you realized he hadn’t been trying to push you away. He had been trying to protect you, from the very thing that had pulled him into its orbit.

“Then we’ll figure it out,” you said softly, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. “We’ll get through it together, no matter what. We always have.”

His grip on you tightened, and you felt the weight of his relief. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmured.

“You deserve everything,” you replied, looking up into his eyes. “And you’ll get it. You just have to let go of this… this game.”

He nodded slowly, his hand reaching for yours again, as if reaffirming the unspoken promise. “I will. For you. For us.”

It wasn’t going to be easy. There were no guarantees. But in that moment, as you stood together in the quiet of your home, you knew one thing for sure: he loved you. And that was the one thing you could hold on to, no matter what darkness lay ahead.

[gs29]

Squid Game Master list

Gong yoo

Silent Love

The Family Meeting

Behind the Mask

The Tiny Frontman

The Salesman's Heart

A Little Jealous

Missing Baby

The First Step

The Dance of the Baby

A Lovely Morning

Ddakji, Giggles, and Family

Hwang Jun ho

Jun Ho's Morning: Love, Laughter, and a Little Shirt Thief

Hwang In-ho

Guards

The Secret Between Us

Behind the Mask: A Family's Promise Master list

A New Role

[gs29]

The Tiny Frontman

Squid Game Master list

Gong Yoo had never really thought of mixing his personal life with his work. But today, things were different. You had asked him to bring you and your baby to the headquarters for a rare visit. You’d been feeling a bit isolated at home lately, and he thought it might be a good idea to show you a side of his life that you’d never seen before.

"Just don’t expect much," he warned with a smile as he fastened his suit jacket. "It’s a bit… unconventional."

You laughed, holding your daughter in your arms. "I’m sure it’ll be fine. We just want to see where you work, Gong Yoo."

With a kiss on your cheek, he left the apartment with you and your baby, heading toward the secretive base. The air was thick with mystery, and you could sense Gong Yoo’s usual seriousness as he glanced over at you, always the protective husband.

When you arrived, the guards let you in with little question, recognizing Gong Yoo immediately. He led you down a long, sterile hallway, and as you passed through dark rooms filled with monitors and equipment, you couldn't help but marvel at the level of secrecy that surrounded him. It was like stepping into a whole different world—a world where the stakes were high, and everything operated like clockwork.

Gong Yoo finally led you to a large, open room where the Frontman typically conducted his business. The atmosphere was tense and clinical, but it felt strangely normal now that you were standing there with him, your baby cradled in your arms.

"Alright, here we are," Gong Yoo said, motioning to the chair opposite a massive desk. "The Frontman will be here soon."

Your daughter was squirming in your arms, clearly interested in everything around her. She seemed fascinated by the dim lighting and the eerie quietness of the space.

Not long after, the Frontman walked in—silent as always, his tall figure cloaked in darkness, his signature black mask in place. He looked just as intimidating as you'd imagined, his presence commanding the room.

Gong Yoo stood up to greet him, but as you took a seat with your baby on your lap, your little one suddenly began reaching for something on the table.

"Hey, no—don’t touch that," you said instinctively, but it was too late. In a flash, your daughter’s tiny hands had grabbed hold of the Frontman’s mask, which was resting casually on a chair beside him.

The Frontman looked up in surprise, his expression unreadable under the mask. But before anyone could react, your daughter tugged the mask off the chair and—much to everyone’s shock—placed it over her little head, a perfect fit for her tiny face.

"Uh-oh…" you said, wide-eyed. "I think she likes it."

Gong Yoo stifled a laugh, trying to keep the situation light-hearted, but the Frontman just stood there, unmoving, his hands behind his back.

Your daughter, completely oblivious to the tension in the room, took a few wobbly steps toward the mic that stood on the desk, and without hesitation, grabbed the microphone with both hands, pulling it toward her.

The silence in the room deepened.

Gong Yoo raised an eyebrow as he watched the spectacle unfold. "What is she doing now…?"

With the mask still on her face, the baby, surprisingly, spoke into the mic in her adorable, babbling baby voice. Her words were a garbled mess, but somehow, it sounded like she was trying to "order" something.

"Guh-guh-uh… Guh… Yuh-uh… Gah!" she said into the mic, as if giving instructions to the guards standing by.

The guards, stationed around the room, exchanged confused looks. They weren’t sure if they were supposed to acknowledge this little ‘command’ from someone so tiny. The whole room was silent, except for the soft sound of your daughter’s giggling as she clutched the microphone.

"U-um…" one of the guards stammered, unsure how to respond. "Should we—?"

The Frontman took a slow, deliberate step forward, his voice cold and commanding. "What is happening right now?"

Before anyone could say anything else, your daughter, still wearing the mask, continued babbling. She raised her arms up as though directing the guards, her tiny hands moving like she was orchestrating some unseen force.

You couldn’t help it—your laughter bubbled up as you watched her play pretend, utterly unaware of the effect she was having on the entire room.

"She’s giving orders to the guards," Gong Yoo said in a half-amused, half-incredulous tone, shaking his head. "I swear, she’s more intimidating than I am."

The Frontman didn’t move, his posture as stiff and unmoving as always, but you could see the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes. He wasn’t used to being overshadowed—especially not by a baby in a mask.

"Should we… do something?" one of the guards asked, still perplexed.

"No," the Frontman replied in his usual low, calm voice. "Let her play. It’s… quite entertaining."

You couldn’t hold back your laughter any longer. "It seems like she’s already taken over your job."

The Frontman didn’t say anything, but there was a slight, almost imperceptible shift in his posture. Perhaps it was a hint of amusement—or maybe just the realization that the tiniest member of this chaotic world had already outwitted them all.

As your daughter babbled into the mic, the guards began to cautiously follow her "orders," stepping in time with her gestures as if they were following the tiniest, most unpredictable commander.

Eventually, you gently removed the mask from your daughter’s head, bringing her back to reality as the room relaxed. The Frontman stood silently, still watching, but his lips curled slightly at the corners.

"Well," Gong Yoo said, giving his wife and daughter a playful side glance, "I think she’s got a future in this business."

You laughed, holding your daughter closer to you. "Maybe one day she’ll be running the whole show."

"Perhaps," the Frontman said, his voice low and almost amused. "But for now, she’s already stolen the spotlight."

As you all left the room, Gong Yoo looked down at his daughter with a proud smile. "Looks like you’ve already beaten me to the punch."

Your daughter cooed happily in response, blissfully unaware of the chaos she had caused. But one thing was certain—she was already in charge.

And somehow, Gong Yoo couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, she’d be running things sooner than anyone expected.

[gs29]

A New Role

Squid Game Master list

*Where a guard brings his wife into the twisted world of the game.*

It was her first day.

Y/N stood in the cold, dimly lit hallway of the facility, the clattering of footsteps echoing off the concrete walls. The thick, oppressive air made her skin feel tight as she adjusted the mask over her face. The square-shaped symbol on her chest was a stark reminder of the world she had just entered, a world she’d only heard whispers of.

Her husband, the square guard, stood beside her, his towering figure imposing even in the muted light. The same mask he wore—the one with the sharp, angular lines—was a symbol of his rank. It wasn’t just the uniform that made him intimidating, it was his quiet, calculated demeanor. He didn’t speak much, but when he did, his voice always carried a weight of authority.

Today, though, he was different. Today, he was her protector.

“Stay close,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only she could hear. He gave her a quick glance, his dark eyes searching hers beneath their shared masks.

She nodded, her stomach a knot of nerves. She couldn’t believe this was happening. This was the same man she had shared a quiet life with before everything went wrong—the same man who had once promised her that nothing would ever come between them.

Now here they were, in a place where everything was twisted, where survival was a daily fight, and death was the ultimate price for failure.

As they walked deeper into the compound, she glanced at the other guards—some of them she recognized from the few times her husband had returned home covered in blood, his face unreadable. They were all masked, faceless entities in a system that stripped away their identities.

“Your role is simple,” he said, his tone firm, “Follow my lead, keep your composure, and don’t falter. There’s no room for mistakes here.”

She could feel his hand brush lightly against hers, a small gesture, but it was enough to ground her. His presence was the only thing that felt familiar in this cold, foreign place.

They arrived at a control room of sorts, where a few other guards stood at attention, awaiting instructions. The walls were adorned with security monitors, each one showing a different part of the arena. The players were scattered across the different zones, oblivious to the constant surveillance.

Her husband gave her a brief look of reassurance before turning to his colleagues. “She’s new. Keep an eye on her.”

“Understood,” a voice answered. But Y/N wasn’t paying attention to the others. She could feel her pulse quicken as the gravity of her situation settled in.

“You’ll assist with monitoring the players,” he continued, his voice low. “Do exactly as I say. When we issue commands, you give them. And when I tell you to step back, you step back. Do not hesitate.”

Her heart raced as she followed him over to one of the security stations. A small, handheld device was placed in her hands. It was used to issue commands to the players, to manipulate the game’s flow. Every decision, every word, had consequences here. She had no experience, no training, just the faint knowledge of what her husband had told her in hushed voices during the rare moments they had together at home.

“Stay calm,” he said again, his voice a touch gentler now. His large hand rested briefly on her shoulder, grounding her. “We’re in this together. You’ll be fine.”

Y/N nodded, taking a slow breath. She had to believe that. Because right now, it was the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

Minutes passed, and the arena’s chaos played out on the monitors. The players were caught in the middle of one of the many deadly challenges, each one fighting for their lives as guards directed their movements. The tension in the air was thick, almost suffocating. She could see the fear in the eyes of the players, their desperation palpable even through the screens. But her job wasn’t to feel sorry for them. Her job was to watch, to ensure the game continued without disruption.

Her hands trembled as she adjusted the controls, sending a message to the players. Move. Follow the line. The words seemed so simple, so impersonal, but they held so much weight.

Her husband noticed her hesitation and stepped closer, his voice soft yet insistent. “Press the button,” he commanded, his voice unwavering.

For a split second, Y/N hesitated. But she looked back at him, at the cold, unfeeling mask that hid his true expression. She knew that in this place, hesitation meant danger.

With a shaky breath, she pressed the button. The alarm blared, signaling the immediate intervention of other guards. The young man was quickly restrained, dragged off-screen, and the game continued.

Y/N couldn’t breathe. The weight of what she had just done—what she had just been forced to be a part of—was heavy, suffocating. She felt sick.

Her husband noticed the change in her demeanor, but he said nothing. He simply placed a hand on her back and guided her to a quiet corner of the room.

“You’re doing fine,” he said softly. “You’re learning how to survive. This is the only way we get out of here.”

Y/N wanted to scream. She wanted to tell him that she didn’t want this—that she didn’t want to be a part of it. But as she looked into his eyes, she saw the same helplessness, the same resignation. He didn’t want this either. But they had no choice.

Not anymore.

For now, all they had was each other—and the grim reality that survival in this world came at the cost of their humanity.

And as the games played on outside, Y/N knew there was no turning back.

[gs29]

Behind the Mask: A Family's Promise

Behind the Mask: A Family's Promise Master list

Squid Game Master list

Chap 2

Chapter 1

The dim glow of the room lamp painted the walls in soft amber, casting long shadows over the cozy nursery. The world outside was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves against the window. Inside, the soft coos of their newborn filled the air, a sound that made his heart swell in ways he never thought possible.

The mask was gone now—tucked away in a locked drawer, along with the weight of what it symbolized. Tonight, he wasn’t a guard; he wasn’t part of the brutality that consumed his nights. He was just a man, a husband, and a father.

You stood by the crib, gently rocking the baby back and forth. The softest smile graced your lips as you hummed a lullaby. He leaned against the doorway, still clad in the plain black sweats he had thrown on after shedding his uniform. Watching you, his chest tightened with a mixture of guilt and love.

He approached quietly, careful not to disturb the moment. "Is she asleep?" he whispered.

You turned your head slightly, meeting his gaze. "Almost," you murmured, your voice as soft as the moonlight spilling through the curtains. "She has your eyes, you know."

He chuckled, though there was a trace of sadness in the sound. "Poor thing, inheriting these eyes."

You rolled yours playfully and motioned for him to come closer. "She inherited the good parts of you. Don’t doubt that."

As he stepped beside you, he reached out to gently brush his finger along the baby’s tiny hand. Her little fingers instinctively wrapped around his, and he felt an ache in his heart—a longing to give her the world she deserved, free from the shadows of his other life.

"How was work?" you asked after a moment, though you already knew the answer. You didn’t push for details anymore. He had always been careful not to burden you with the horrors of his job, but the weight in his eyes was answer enough.

"Same as always," he said, his voice low. "But this… being here with you and her… It makes it worth it. I promise I’ll find a way out someday. For us."

You reached up, cupping his cheek, your thumb tracing the faint scar along his jawline. "I believe you. But until then, we’ll keep building our little world here. Safe. Together."

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a brief moment of solace. The baby stirred slightly in her sleep, and the two of you instinctively froze, holding your breath until she settled again. When her breathing evened out, you both exhaled in unison, exchanging a quiet laugh.

It was in these stolen moments—away from the violence and the masks—that he found hope. For her. For you. For the family he never thought he’d have. And though the road ahead was uncertain, he vowed to fight for the chance to leave the crimson jumpsuit and the weight of his sins behind.

For now, he would hold onto the softness of her tiny hand, the warmth of your touch, and the fragile promise of a brighter future.

[gs29]

Behind the Mask: A Family's Promise Master list

Squid Game Master list

Chapter One

Chapter Two: Introductions in the Shadows

Chapter Three: The Grandfather in Black

Chapter four: The Babysitters in Red

Chapter Five: The Return of the Babysitters in Red

Chapter Six: A Night Just for Us

Chapter Seven: First Words & Fatherly Jealousy

Chapter Eight: The Guard and the First Word

Chapter Nine: The Baby and the Frontman

Chapter Ten: The First Step

Chapter Eleven: A Baby’s Steps and Many Guards

Chapter Twelve: A Surprise Visit to Grandpa

Chapter Thirteen: Big Sister Surprise

Chapter Fourteen: The Big News

Chapter Fifteen: The Big Reveal to the Guards

Chapter Sixteen: Uncle’s Day

Chapter Seventeen: Preparing for the New Arrival

Chapter Eighteen: The Gender Reveal Party

Chapter Nineteen: The Moment of Arrival

Chapter Twenty: Welcoming the Newest Member

The End!

[gs29]

Behind the Mask

Squid Game Master list

The world outside seemed distant and cold. For him, the memories of the Squid Game and everything that had come with it felt like a lifetime ago. Behind the mask, he'd been someone different—someone ruthless, calculating. But now, in the quiet of his home, there was only peace. Peace and the warmth of his growing family.

Y/N had been asleep on the couch, her body exhausted from another long night. She had been up with their newborn son, who, even after a few months, still struggled to sleep through the night. But it was the life they’d chosen together, a life far from the world he had once been a part of. And despite the challenges, he wouldn’t change it for anything.

The soft cry of their son pulled him from his thoughts. It wasn’t loud or frantic, but still insistent enough to make his heart tighten. He placed the mug of coffee down on the side table, his gloved hands moving quickly but gently. The salesman, known only for his cold efficiency in the past, was now a man of patience—at least when it came to his family.

He moved toward the nursery, the soft light of the night lamp casting gentle shadows over the crib. His son, only a few months old, was tossing slightly, clearly in need of comfort. Y/N had been so diligent, so loving, but there were moments when the exhaustion from the endless cycle of feedings and sleepless nights weighed heavily on her.

Without a sound, he lifted the baby from the crib, his hands steady despite the fact that this tiny, fragile little one could break his heart with a single cry. He rocked him carefully, humming a quiet lullaby, one he'd never thought he'd know. The baby’s cries softened into little whimpers, then fell into a rhythmic silence, his tiny chest rising and falling in peaceful slumber.

The salesman, or rather, the man behind the mask, couldn’t help but smile. He had never imagined this moment, this quiet serenity. But here it was, in his arms. He held his son for a little longer, savoring the simple joy of it.

“Shh, it’s alright. Daddy’s got you,” he whispered, his voice soft and tender, a stark contrast to the coldness of his old life.

Once his son was asleep again, he carefully placed him back into the crib, ensuring the blanket was tucked around his small form. He lingered for a moment longer, watching the steady rise and fall of the baby’s chest, before heading back into the living room.

Y/N was still asleep, curled up on the couch, her face relaxed in the way it only got when she was at peace. He knelt beside her, brushing a few stray strands of hair from her forehead, his touch gentle. She stirred but didn’t wake, and he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

It was a feeling he hadn’t expected to be capable of—this quiet, unconditional love. The salesman, who had once only known shadows and secrets, now knew what it meant to hold something precious. To protect something with every fiber of his being. And as he gazed at Y/N, his heart swelled with the promise he’d made to her the day they decided to build this life together.

He stood up, looking out the window. The sky was just beginning to lighten with the first hints of dawn. There was still so much uncertainty in the world, so much darkness he couldn’t escape, but with Y/N and their son, he had found something real. Something worth fighting for.

“Everything’s going to be alright,” he whispered to himself, more as a promise than anything else. And with one last glance at his family, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.