#Hwang in ho x Y/n

[chxrryhansen]

squirming in my seat for pt 6😩😩😩

Bet V

p.1 here & p2. here & p.3 here & p.4 here

mandatory mdni. you were not tagged in this because you are not over 18.

summary: in his attempt to break you, in-ho breaks himself pairing: hwang in-ho/the front man x civilian!reader warnings & content: age gap, masturbation, voyeurism, afab!reader, slightly detailed descriptions of reader’s background for plot purposes, red text for in-ho, purple for reader, pre 33rd squid game, canon divergent, veeeery slow burn, reader’s dad is dead w/c: 2k

a/n: this is my half-assed attempt at writing a game lol. if you would like to be tagged for the next part, please check this post! thank you for reading! please remember that if you asked to be tagged but i can’t find your age on your blog, you will NOT be tagged. there will be smut and people dying lol.

Neolttwigi had been another success. The seesaw game eliminated 91 people, and with 97 remaining players, In-ho proceeded with tuho. He paid close attention to the masked soldiers who directed the survivors to the same place where they had previously played Red Light, Green Light, only the floor was divided by a bright blue line in the middle. The ceiling was open, letting players experience natural light for a second time in a row.

The game was awfully simple —  throwing arrows into the neck of a jar. In-ho remembered reading about that game in school, how it was played by royal families and the upper class before becoming a game for everyone, and the jar had a narrow neck, making it easy to miss the mark. He had rarely played it as a child, preferring juldarigi or squid, games he taught his younger brother.

It became a habit for him to check the cameras in his penthouse whenever you were there. It brought him a strange peace of mind knowing that Eunjoo was safe in your hands, but he couldn't, for the life of him, stop looking at the selfie you sent the day before. In-ho knew that walking into a lamppost was bullshit, but he didn't want to pressure you into telling him the truth. He needed you to trust him, to tell him willingly. 

Still, he examined the picture —  your cheek in particular — and concluded that you lied to him. In-ho took it as a triumph. He didn't win the bet just yet, there was still time for you to mess up, but the fact that you chose to not tell the truth only solidified his belief that you were the same as everyone else. In four days he would return to Seoul and win. The prize? He wasn’t sure. Perhaps just the satisfaction that he was above you.

Players entered the field, and the voice in the speaker instructed them to split into teams of two in less than thirty minutes, which was unfair to player 002, since there was an odd number of people. 002 was taken away by a guard, and the remaining 96 players grouped into pairs. While the objective was indeed simple — throw the arrows in the jar — it came with a twist. It always did. Each player was given four arrows, but one of them was blindfolded and threw the arrows while their teammate picked the jar up and tried to catch the arrow in it. Once all four arrows were thrown, the teammates switched places. If at least six out of eight arrows hit the mark, both players passed, but if one player threw four arrows and the other only two, they both died. 

The game took out fewer people than In-ho had hoped — 19 to be precise. Player 002 was alive and well, and the remaining 77 survivors returned to their chamber, where more and more beds had been removed, exposing the remaining three games on the walls — Hide and Seek, Yutnori and Ssireum. He remembered his time as a player, how he was the only one who paid attention to his surroundings and anticipated the following games. In-ho used all of his skills and knowledge as a detective and emerged as the sole survivor and winner. Did it bring his wife back? No, but it did make him feel so good when proved he earned his right to live.

Players were receiving less and less food, and from the comfort and safety of the control room, In-ho watched them slowly lose all traces of their humanity. He wondered how you would've performed in the games. Participants would have abused your kindness, and your good intentions would've gotten you killed. To make it worse, he was certain you would've sacrificed yourself to save someone else, someone you deemed worthy of winning. But in his eyes, only you deserved to live.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and In-ho took it out to read the text from you. He knew it had to be you. Who else would text him at that time?

Hellooo, I took a look in the fridge and noticed the eggs and milk will go bad before you come back. I was wondering if I could give it to someone who needs it.

Damn it, you did it again. In-ho couldn't be sure that you actually gave the food to someone else — he had to take your word for it for now.

Of course. May I ask who you're giving it to?

Remember the family I told you about? The one I teach Korean to? The wife is pregnant and can't work. I think she's due to give birth soon, actually, and they could use all the help. Besides, it would be a shame to throw away perfectly good food :)

Don't you want it, miss? When we first met, you told me you didn't have a good financial situation.

Oh, no, no. I'll be fine. They need it more.

Very well, please give it to them.

Ah, I also remembered you left some money on your nightstand. With all due respect, Mr. Hwang, that's very irresponsible. Anyone could take it.

Were you lecturing him? Him? Cute. In-ho even chuckled at your reprimand, finding it adorably amusing. If only you knew the things he did, the people he killed. How would you react? That question was beginning to take over his mind like a maggot wriggling inside of his brain. Would you be disgusted? Would you go to the police? Would you agree with his ways of cleaning the world of its impurities? It was no different than how you cleaned his penthouse — you both got rid of trash.

You're right, miss. There is a safe hidden in my wardrobe. Please put the money there. The code is 1321.

Surely you would crack at the sight of so much money and try to take some. No one sane would miss such an opportunity. But then again, maybe you weren't sane. Maybe you just needed a little push, a little encouragement. In-ho poured himself a glass of whisky and thought about the wound on your cheek, and the night you were crying on his kitchen floor. Someone had hurt you, and he needed to find out who so he could exploit that. And then, you would break. 

He was, however, slightly conflicted, because he didn’t want to ruin you. In-ho merely wanted to make you see things eye to eye. Just like him, life had been unfair to you. And just like him, you needed to survive. Kindness wouldn't take you very far — you had to witness the cruelty of the world somehow, and the only possible way to do that was to play the game and survive it, something In-ho knew you would never do due to your values and morals. And he couldn't wait one more year to push you past your limits. He needed to think of something else, and he needed to do it fast — time was ticking and you were a project he refused to let slip through his fingers.

In-ho checked the cameras at the time you normally arrived at the penthouse, patiently waiting for you. He was pleased to see that you were in a better mood, cheerfully greeting Eunjoo as you went about with your tasks, but something was different. You appeared to be texting someone, and he never received any notifications on his phone, yet you were quite busy chatting back and forth. His stomach churned, an amalgamation of feelings bubbling and boiling in his core. Anxiety? Anger? Jealousy? 

Jealousy.

You always sent him a text upon your arrival. You always let him know that you were there, so who occupied your mind if not him? The sudden lack of the very little control he had over you made him trip in his room and lose balance, and he forcefully ripped the mask off and tossed it on the floor. 

In-ho was losing the bet he made with himself, and not in the way he had imagined.

It wasn't him who lived in your mind, but you who invaded his, and it infuriated him, because after his wife died, he refused to get attached, refused to fall in love. Luckily for him, it wasn't love that he felt for you, but an unhealthy obsession to watch you, to know your every move, to find out who hurt you and make you hurt them back. 

You performed your tasks with utmost perfection, and placed the money in his safe while ignoring the riches inside it, but you were distracted, constantly looking at your phone and half-smiling whenever it lit up. In-ho couldn't have that. 

How's Eunjoo?

Since you were so busy talking to someone, he expected you to frown at his text, to scoff and ignore it. But you did worse. You stopped folding his clothes and sat on the edge of his bed, beaming at the message on the screen.

She's alright! We had dinner and a cuddle, and now she's playing next to me. I'll send you a picture!

In-ho watched you struggle to take a photo of the cat — each time you took out your phone, Eunjoo stopped playing, so you swapped to the front camera, trying to sneak a picture. You even smoothed your hair and made yourself look presentable, and he found it quite adorable that you tried to look presentable for him.

I'm sorry you have to see my face, but she wouldn't sit still for a photo!

You were stunning. It was all In-ho could think about when he opened the photo. Your bright eyes were like a drug to him, instantly hooking him, forcing him to regain a shred of humanity.

Don't apologise, miss. You're beautiful.

There it was, the crack he so desperately sought for. You were practically hyperventilating in his bedroom, struggling to breathe, constantly rereading the words on your phone. And then he heard you talk to Eunjoo, heard you question your own sanity. But no, In-ho didn't like you. He was simply interested in breaking you, oblivious to how you were breaking him.

"Damn it. I promised Donghyun I'd go for a coffee after work tomorrow. I'm so confused now." Your distorted voice crackled through his speaker, and In-ho clenched his jaw, barely stopping himself from breaking his phone.

Who the fuck was Donghyun? And more importantly, why did he care? 

He didn't care, or at least that was what he told himself for the past few days. He didn't care. He didn't give a shit about you. He didn't-

The familiar words of Frank Sinatra's Fly Me To The Moon stopped him dead in his tracks. In-ho turned the volume up, still in disbelief that you knew the song, that you sung it in his bedroom like no one was watching you. It was impossible how similar you were to him, to how he was before life took a turn. But a song and a kind heart weren't enough to change him. It was far too late for that. The only possible outcome was for you to become like him, and he wouldn't accept anything else.

For the first time, In-ho didn't offer you privacy when you stepped into his bathroom. For the first time, he watched as you peeled off each layer of clothing, and for the first time, he saw every scar and scratch, every burn and bruise on your body, new and old, and he understood. You had already faced the realities of this cruel world, and you chose not to become vengeful. Your father died, your uncle abused you, and yet, you shined.

The unforeseen urge to protect you seeped through his veins, but not before you got your revenge. You deserved to get revenge more than anyone in the world. And if you didn't want that, he'd make you want it one way or another.

"Fuck." In-ho whispered when his cock twitched in his trousers at the sight of your bare body. So vulnerable. So weak. So perfect. 

He sat down, phone in one hand and his eyes only on you. It was pure instinct when he fisted his cock, pure instinct when your name spilled from his lips, pure instinct when he imagined you under him, wriggling and writhing, pure instinct when he came on his fingers, disgusted with himself.

Pure instinct. Nothing more.

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[thequeenofneverland1]

Hwang In-ho/Frontman///The Art of Manipulation

Anonymous: can I request a request where your his wife and you join the games so you can destroy the plan or gi-hun and his group

Warnings: Violence, death, psychological Manipulation, betrayal, Trauma, Moral ambiguity, tension and anxiety, depression and despair, Survival situations, intense romantic relationships, isolation, Manipulation of power dynamics and dark themes

You are the granddaughter of Oh Il-nam, the mastermind behind the games. Despite his twisted role in creating the cruel competition, you grew up with a deep bond with him, unaware of his darker dealings. When your family was killed, Il-nam adopted you, raising you as his own. He was a complex figure in your life but he’s was kind and loving at home, but always carrying an air of mystery. Over time, you came to understand his involvement in the games, a revelation that shook you to your core.

Rather than turning away, you found yourself pulled deeper into his world. He began to share his reasoning, his ideals about human nature, and the philosophies that fueled the games. At first, you resisted, horrified by what he had built, but eventually, you found a way to make your mark. You contributed to the design of some of the games, ensuring they were not only challenges of survival but also intricate puzzles that tested strategy and willpower. It became a way to reconcile the morality of the games with your own sense of justice though the line between right and wrong blurred more with each passing year.

During this time, you met Hwang In-ho, known to most as the Front Man. At first, your interactions were purely professional. He was stoic, disciplined, and fiercely loyal to the operation. But as you spent more time together behind the scenes, you saw the man beneath the mask—a deeply wounded soul who had his own reasons for becoming part of this twisted world.

For two years, your relationship built on shared understanding, trust, and a connection born from navigating the moral gray area of the games. He was the only person who truly understood the weight of your inheritance and the choices you had made to stay by Il-nam’s side. Eventually, the secrecy was no longer enough. You married in a private ceremony, with only a handful of trusted individuals present. Your life together was unconventional, shaped by the darkness of the games, but it was a life you chose together.

Now, as Il-nam’s health deteriorates, you and In-ho find yourselves at a crossroads. You hold power and influence within the games, but the legacy you’re building is far from clear.

Even though you and In-ho are married, your relationship is far from conventional. The two of you thrive on a fiery dynamic that constantly keeps things interesting. In the world of the games, where everything is a matter of control and strategy, you and In-ho have developed a habit of acting like rivals. It’s not unusual for the two of you to engage in sharp banter or challenge each other’s decisions, all while maintaining an undercurrent of mutual respect and undeniable chemistry.

One evening, while reviewing the logistics of the next round of games, you find yourselves at odds again.

“You’re making it too easy,” you say, leaning over the table where the blueprints for the next game are laid out. “Where’s the challenge? Where’s the thrill?”

In-ho crosses his arms, the polished mask he wears as the Front Man slipping slightly to reveal a faint smirk. “Easy? I don’t recall you having any complaints about the last game’s ‘simplicity.’ Or did you forget how many players didn’t even make it past the first round?”

You scoff, leaning closer to him, your eyes locking. “Oh, please. I could’ve designed something far more creative. You’re playing it safe.”

“Safe?” His voice dips into a dangerous, teasing tone. “Careful, jagiya. If you think you can do better, why don’t you take over entirely?”

“Maybe I will,” you fire back, stepping around the table to close the distance between you. Your voices are low but heated, the tension crackling in the air.

His smirk deepens, and his hand rests on the edge of the table, his fingers tapping in mock impatience. “You’re forgetting who’s in charge here,” he says, his tone daring.

“And you’re forgetting that I don’t take orders from anyone, least of all you,” you retort, standing toe-to-toe with him now.

For a moment, neither of you speaks, the room thick with a mixture of challenge and desire. Then, as if on cue, the argument dissolves in an instant. In-ho grabs your wrist, pulling you closer, and your lips crash together in a heated kiss. It’s intense, passionate, and utterly consuming, a testament to the fire that fuels your relationship.

When you finally pull apart, your breath comes in short gasps, and he’s grinning in that maddeningly confident way of his. “Admit it,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. “You love this.”

You roll your eyes, though you can’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “Love what? Kissing you or proving you wrong?”

“Both,” he says smugly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

You shake your head, stepping back to regain your composure. “Don’t get used to it. Next time, I’m winning the argument.”

“Next time?” he repeats, his tone amused. “You mean in about five minutes?”

And just like that, the rivalry begins anew, both of you knowing full well how it will end. But that’s the beauty of your relationship every clash, every debate, only draws you closer, a fiery dance that always culminates in the same way: with love, passion, and the undeniable truth that, no matter what, you are equals in every sense of the word

Later that evening, after your latest argument had ended the way it always did with a kiss. you found yourself sitting in In-ho’s lap in h your private shared quarters. The dim lighting cast shadows across the room, highlighting the sharp angles of his face and the glint of mischief in his dark eyes. His arm was wrapped securely around your waist, holding you close as if you might slip away at any moment.

“You know,” he began, his voice smooth and teasing, “you like to accuse me of hiding behind my mask. But let’s talk about yours, sweetheart.”

You raised an eyebrow, pretending not to understand. “What are you talking about?”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and rich. His free hand brushed a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your skin. “Don’t play coy. You wear your mask just as much as I wear mine. You hide behind your sharp words, your cold stares, and that oh-so-perfect composure. But I know better.”

You felt your heart skip a beat, though you kept your expression neutral. “And what do you think you know, In-ho?”

He tilted his head, studying you like he was unraveling a mystery. “I know you’re scared.”

“Scared?” you echoed, a touch defensive.

He smirked, his hand moving to cradle your jaw gently. “Scared that if you take off that mask, you’ll have the entire world at your feet. That your beauty, your power, your brilliance. it’s too much for anyone to handle. You think you’re protecting people by keeping it all locked away, but let me tell you something, jagiya.”

His voice dropped, becoming a husky whisper as his eyes locked with yours. “You’re already attacking me with that beauty of yours. Every time I look at you, it’s like you’re daring me to lose control. So maybe…” He reached over to the table beside him and picked up your mask, holding it out to you with a knowing grin. “Maybe you should put this back on before you completely ruin me.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, shaking your head at his dramatic words. “Ruin you?” you teased, taking the mask from his hand. “Aren’t you being a little over the top?”

“Not at all,” he replied smoothly, leaning in until his lips brushed against your ear. “You’ve been ruining me since the day we met, jagiya. And the worst part is…I don’t even mind.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine, his words and proximity leaving you breathless. For a moment, you simply stared at him, your mask forgotten in your hand. “You’re impossible,” you murmured, your voice softer now.

“And yet, here you are,” he countered, his grin widening.

You couldn’t argue with that. Instead, you leaned in, pressing a kiss to his lips, soft and lingering. When you pulled back, you smiled and said, “Maybe I’ll keep the mask off, just to see how much I can ruin you.”

He chuckled, his hand tightening around your waist. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t tempt me. You might just find out who really wins this game of ours.”

The tension between you lingered, heavy and intoxicating, as you stayed in his lap, neither of you willing to break the moment. In the chaotic world you both lived in, these moments of playful intimacy were your sanctuary, a reminder that even in the darkest of places, you had each other.

The quiet of the control room was interrupted by a crackle of static from the walkie-talkie sitting on the console in front of you. You leaned back slightly in In-ho’s lap, glancing toward the device as a monotone voice broke through.

“Sir, Ma’am,” the guard said, his tone steady but tinged with urgency. “The VIPs have arrived.”

You exchanged a quick look with In-ho, your playful banter immediately replaced with the seriousness of your roles. His hands slid from your waist, and his demeanor shifted effortlessly into the cold, commanding presence of the Front Man.

“Understood,” he replied into the walkie-talkie, his voice deep and authoritative. “Escort them to the viewing room. We’ll be there shortly.”

The walkie-talkie crackled again as the guard acknowledged his command, and then silence returned. For a moment, neither of you moved, the weight of what lay ahead settling between you.

In-ho’s hand moved to your lower back, gently guiding you to stand. You rose from his lap, smoothing the fabric of your coat and adjusting your posture as you mentally prepared yourself.

“Well,” you said, your tone calm but edged with a hint of sarcasm, “time to entertain the most morally bankrupt people on the planet.”

In-ho stood as well, reaching for his mask. He paused, turning to look at you, his expression softening ever so slightly. “And yet, they think they’re better than everyone else,” he murmured.

You let out a dry laugh. “The irony’s almost impressive.”

As he secured his mask over his face, he reached out, placing a gloved hand on your arm. “You know the drill,” he said, his voice now filtered through the mask. “Smile when necessary, stay sharp, and don’t let them get under your skin.”

You nodded, grabbing your own mask and slipping it on. As much as you hated the VIPs, you’d long since learned to play the game smiling at their disgusting comments, feigning politeness as they threw around their wealth and power like toys. But it always left a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Let’s get this over with,” you said, your voice firm and resolute.

In-ho stepped closer, his gloved hand brushing against yours for the briefest moment. It was a silent gesture, a subtle reassurance that you were in this together, as always.

With that, the two of you exited the control room, walking side by side down the long, dimly lit corridors of the facility. The sound of your footsteps echoed in the silence, a sharp reminder of the roles you played in this twisted game.

As you approached the VIP lounge, the air grew heavier, charged with the knowledge of what was to come. You could already hear faint laughter and chatter from behind the doors, the grating sound of arrogance and entitlement.

In-ho stopped just before the entrance, turning to look at you. Though his face was obscured by the mask, you could feel the intensity of his gaze. “Remember,” he said quietly, “they think they’re in control. Let them.”

You nodded, your hand brushing briefly against his arm in silent acknowledgment. Together, you pushed open the doors, stepping into the opulent lounge where the VIPs awaited The show had begun.

The VIP lounge was as garish as ever gold accents, velvet seating, and crystal chandeliers designed to impress the kind of people who demanded excess at every turn. The smell of cigars and expensive cologne filled the air, making your nose wrinkle beneath your mask. A group of men lounged around the room, clad in absurd animal-themed masks that barely concealed their smug expressions.

The chatter among them died down as you and In-ho entered, your presence commanding immediate attention. They always reacted this way to the Front Man, but you could feel their eyes lingering on you as well. Over time, you had learned to endure their lingering stares, their hushed whispers about who you might be under the mask.

“Well, well,” one of the VIPs said, his voice dripping with amusement as he leaned forward on the couch. His golden tiger mask glinted under the warm light. “The infamous Front Man and his wife. It’s always such a pleasure to see you two.”

In-ho ignored the comment, striding toward the center of the room with an air of authority. His presence silenced any remaining murmurs. You followed closely, your shoulders squared, keeping your posture as composed as ever.

“Welcome back,” In-ho said, his voice firm but polite. “I trust your accommodations have been to your liking?”

Another VIP, this one wearing a mask resembling a lion, let out a low chuckle. “Oh, always. You never disappoint, Front Man. You and your… lovely wife here really know how to host.”

You bit back the sharp retort rising in your throat, instead offering a slight tilt of your head. “We aim to please,” you said smoothly, your voice neutral but calculated.

The lion-masked VIP clapped his hands together, leaning forward with obvious enthusiasm. “So, tell us! What’s in store for today’s games? You’ve outdone yourselves every year, but I hear this batch of contestants is particularly interesting.”

In-ho’s gaze swept over the room, his masked face giving nothing away. “You’ll see soon enough,” he replied, his tone clipped. “The games will begin shortly, and I assure you, they will not disappoint.”

The tiger-masked VIP laughed, his voice echoing through the room. “Ah, you’re always so dramatic, Front Man. I like that about you. And your wife. what a pair you two make. Beauty and control.”

Your jaw clenched beneath your mask, but you maintained your composure, standing silently beside In-ho. He turned his head slightly toward you, just enough for you to feel his unspoken reassurance.

“As I said,” In-ho continued, ignoring the comment, “you’ll see soon enough. For now, enjoy the refreshments.”

He gestured toward the lavish spread of food and drinks set up along one side of the room and the VIP started to dig in laughing as they watched the games and starting to bet their money

“They’re worse than usual,” you muttered, your voice laced with frustration.

In-ho glanced at you, his mask obscuring his face, but his tone carried a hint of dry amusement. “They’re always like this. They enjoy testing boundaries.”

“They enjoy being insufferable,” you corrected, earning a quiet chuckle from him.

“True,” he admitted, his hand brushing briefly against yours as you and him watched. “But they’ll get what they came for. That’s all that matters.”

You nodded, your focus shifting back to the task at hand. The games were about to begin, and you both had a role to play. There was no room for distractions or not yet, at least.

The evening dragged on as the VIPs indulged in their usual excesses, but finally, they departed to their quarters, leaving you and In-ho alone in the observation lounge. The silence that followed was a welcome reprieve from their grating laughter and self-important commentary. You let out a deep sigh, sinking into one of the chairs as you removed your mask and set it on the table.

“Finally,” you muttered, rubbing your temples. “I don’t know what’s worse dealing with the players or dealing with them.”

In-ho chuckled softly as he removed his own mask, setting it beside yours. “The VIPs are predictable, at least. The players… they’re the wild cards.” He poured himself a drink from the decanter on the table, then poured one for you, setting it in front of you before taking the seat beside you.

You picked up the glass and swirled the liquid thoughtfully. “Speaking of the players… we need to talk.”

His brow furrowed slightly as he took a sip of his drink. “About what?”

You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “I want to join the game.”

His reaction was immediate. He set his glass down with a sharp clink and leaned forward, his dark eyes narrowing. “Absolutely not.”

“Honey, listen to me,” you said, leaning closer to him, your tone insistent but calm. “We need to do this. If we don’t, Gi-hun and his group are going to destroy us and everything we’ve built.”

“And what, exactly, makes you think joining the game is the solution?” he asked, his voice laced with frustration. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that would be?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Of course I know how dangerous it is. But you’re the one who let him back in, remember? If we’re going to contain this, we need someone on the inside. Someone they’ll trust.”

His eyes flashed, and he sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. “So, you’re saying this is my fault?”

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “Kind of. But it’s my fault too. I let this go on as much as you did.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “That doesn’t mean you need to put yourself in harm’s way. We can handle this without you stepping into the game.”

“No, we can’t,” you argued, your voice firm. “Think about it. I can get close to Gi-hun and the others. Befriend them, earn their trust. And when the time comes…” You leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a whisper. “Boom.”

His jaw tightened, and you could see the conflict in his eyes. He hated the idea, hated the thought of you being in danger, but he also knew you were right.

“You’re asking me to let you walk into the lion’s den,” he said finally, his voice low and strained. “Do you understand what you’re asking me to do?”

“I do,” you said softly, reaching out to place a hand on his. “But it’s the only way, In-ho. We’ve worked too hard to let it all fall apart now.”

For a long moment, he was silent, staring down at your hand on his. Then he exhaled heavily, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Fine,” he said quietly. “But we do this on my terms. I’m not letting you go in there without a plan and without my protection.”

You smiled, relief washing over you. “Thank you.”

He shook his head, his expression softening as he looked at you. “Don’t thank me yet. If anything happens to you…” His voice trailed off, and he reached out to cup your face in his hands. “I can’t lose you, jagiya.”

“You won’t,” you promised, leaning into his touch. “I’ll be careful. And I’ll come back to you.”

He pulled you closer, his lips meeting yours in a fierce, desperate kiss. It was as if he were trying to pour all his fears, all his love, into that single moment. You melted against him, your arms wrapping around his neck as the kiss deepened.

The tension in the room shifted, giving way to something more intimate, more urgent. He pulled you onto his lap, his hands gripping your waist as his lips moved against yours. For a little while, the danger, the games, and the VIPs all faded away, leaving just the two of you.

Later, as you lay tangled together in the quiet aftermath, he held you close, his hand tracing lazy patterns on your back. “Promise me you’ll be careful,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

“I promise,” you said, pressing a kiss to his chest.

And though the morning would bring new challenges, for now, you allowed yourselves this brief moment of peace, holding onto each other as though your lives depended on it.

The door to the dormitory slammed shut behind you with a heavy, metallic clang, the sound reverberating through the cavernous space. The air inside was thick with tension and the unmistakable scent of sweat and fear. Conversations that had been loud and chaotic moments before died down into hushed whispers as every pair of eyes turned toward you.

You could feel their gazes burning into you curious, wary, and filled with suspicion. The other players, clad in identical green tracksuits, sat or stood frozen in place, their numbers emblazoned on their chests. You walked slowly, your movements calculated, as you made your way further into the room. The stark white number 002 stitched onto your suit was impossible to miss, drawing even more attention.

“Who is she?” someone muttered from the corner.

“Number 002? How’d she get that number?” whispered another voice, sharp with curiosity.

“She wasn’t here before… was she?”

You ignored the whispers, your head held high, your face calm and composed. You had expected this reaction. Being one of the lowest numbers in the games wasn’t just a rank. it was a statement of seniority, one that no doubt confused and alarmed the players who were already struggling to make sense of their situation.

Your gaze swept across the room until it landed on a group clustered near the center. Gi-hun and his team—Jung-bae, Dae-ho, Hyun-ju, and Gyeong-seok were sitting together, their eyes fixed on you with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. Unlike the others, they didn’t whisper. They just stared, sizing you up in silence.

Gi-hun, ever the natural leader, was the first to move. He stood up slowly, his expression cautious but not unfriendly. “Hey,” he called out, his voice carrying over the quiet murmurs. “You’re new here, right?”

You stopped a few feet away, crossing your arms as you looked at him. “Something like that.”

The others exchanged glances, their suspicion deepening. Hyun-ju, the sharp-eyed woman who always seemed ready to pounce, narrowed her eyes at you. “How’d you get that number?” she asked bluntly. “002? That’s not just some random assignment.”

You gave a small, enigmatic smile. “Maybe I’ve been here longer than you think.”

That answer only seemed to make them more uneasy, and you could practically see the gears turning in their heads. Dae-ho, the stocky, muscle-bound one, frowned. “If you’ve been here so long, where’ve you been? We’ve never seen you before.”

“Does it matter?” you countered smoothly. “I’m here now.”

Gi-hun studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he gestured to the empty space beside him. “Why don’t you sit with us?”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the offer. “Just like that? No questions, no conditions?”

He shrugged. “We could always use another ally. And something tells me you’re not like the others.”

Hyun-ju scoffed. “You’re too trusting, Gi-hun. She could be dangerous.”

“She’s dangerous,” Jung-bae, the lanky strategist of the group, said quietly. His sharp eyes flickered over you, assessing every detail. “But so is everyone else here. The question is, what’s her angle?”

You met his gaze evenly, unbothered by his scrutiny. “My angle is survival. Same as yours.”

For a moment, the group was silent, tension crackling between you and them like static electricity. Then Gyeong-seok, the quiet but perceptive one, finally spoke up. “If she wanted to hurt us, she would’ve done it already. She had the perfect chance when she walked in.”

Gi-hun nodded, his expression softening slightly. “Exactly. So, what do you say?”

You hesitated for a moment, weighing your options. Joining Gi-hun’s group could give you the access and cover you needed to execute your plan, but it also meant placing yourself squarely in their line of fire if they started to suspect your true motives.

Finally, you gave a small nod and walked over to them, lowering yourself onto the bench beside Gi-hun. His group shifted slightly, their body language still guarded, but they didn’t object.

“You won’t regret this,” Gi-hun said, offering you a small, genuine smile.

You returned the smile, though yours was tinged with something darker, something they couldn’t quite place. “I hope not,” you replied, your voice soft but firm.

As the whispers in the dormitory began to die down, the group resumed their quiet planning, and you listened intently, filing away every detail. Already, you could see the cracks in their unity, the subtle power dynamics at play. It was only a matter of time before you found the perfect moment to strike.

For now, though, you played your role, blending into the group while keeping your true intentions hidden. If they suspected anything, they didn’t show it. And as the games loomed ever closer, you couldn’t help but feel a thrill of anticipation.

This was your stage now, and every move you made would bring you one step closer to ensuring your survival and your success.

The group sat in a loose circle around you, their curiosity thick in the air as Gi-hun leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “So,” he began, his voice calm but probing, “you’ve got us all wondering. What’s your story, 002? Where do you come from?”

You hesitated, letting the silence stretch just long enough to draw them in further. The truth of your story wasn’t something you shared lightly, and the thought of dredging it up filled you with a familiar ache. But you knew what you were doing. If you wanted their trust, you had to give them something real, something raw.

“My name is Y/N,” you said finally, your voice soft but steady. “And my story… well, it’s not a happy one.”

The group exchanged glances, sensing the weight in your tone. Gi-hun nodded, encouraging you to continue.

“I lost my family when I was a child,” you said, your gaze fixed on the floor as if the memories were too heavy to meet their eyes. “It happened on my birthday. I was turning nine.”

The words hung in the air, and the room seemed to grow quieter, the faint hum of the facility’s machinery the only sound.

“My dad…” you began, pausing as the memories clawed their way to the surface. “He wasn’t anyone important. Just a worker for a mafia family. But he was smart, loyal. He worked his way up, gained their trust. Eventually, they made him their right hand.”

A bitter smile tugged at your lips. “I think he thought we’d finally made it. He was so proud of what he’d accomplished. But not everyone was happy for him.”

The faces around you grew more solemn, their interest genuine now. Even Hyun-ju, who had been the most skeptical, seemed to soften, her sharp gaze fixed on you.

“There was this employee,” you continued, your voice trembling slightly. “He’d been with the family for years, longer than my dad. But he never got promoted, never earned their trust. He was jealous, angry. And one day, he decided to take matters into his own hands.”

Your breath hitched as the memory hit you like a freight train, vivid and merciless. “It was my birthday. My mom and dad had planned a small party. Just us, my older sister, my second brother, and me. We didn’t have much, but my mom baked a cake, and my dad brought home these little party hats. They were so proud.”

The words faltered, and you closed your eyes, the scene playing out in your mind like an old, worn-out film.

Flashback

You were crouched under the couch, your tiny hands clamped over your mouth to stifle your sobs. The scent of birthday candles lingered in the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood. From your hiding spot, you could see everything.

Your sister had been the first to fall. She’d stood up trying to hide you from the intruders. “Don’t hurt them!” she’d screamed, her voice desperate and defiant. But her bravery hadn’t mattered. The man had raised his gun and pulled the trigger without hesitation.

You’d watched in horror as your brother tried to fight back, his fists clenched in a futile attempt to protect your family. He hadn’t even made it two steps before the gunshot echoed again, and he collapsed beside your sister.

Your parents had begged, pleaded for mercy. Your mom’s voice cracked as she sobbed, “Please, our children… don’t do this!” But their cries had been met with cold indifference. The man had executed them both with mechanical precision, as if they were nothing more than obstacles in his way.

You’d stayed frozen, trembling beneath the couch, too scared to move, too scared to breathe. The last thing you remembered was the man’s boots stepping over your sister’s lifeless body as he walked out the door, leaving you alone in the suffocating silence.

End Flashback

You opened your eyes, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill. The group was silent, their faces pale as they absorbed your words.

“I hid under the couch the whole time,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I watched my sister, my brother, my parents… I watched them all die. And I couldn’t do anything.”

Hyun-ju’s hand flew to her mouth, her sharp demeanor crumbling as she muttered, “Oh my god…”

Dae-ho shifted uncomfortably, his jaw tight. Even Jung-bae, usually so composed, looked shaken.

“And then,” you continued, forcing the words out, “after they left, I crawled out and sat there, staring at their bodies, until someone found me. and I was adopted after that, by someone kind. But he died too. It’s like everyone I’ve ever loved has been ripped away from me.”

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow. “So, yeah. That’s my story. That’s why I’m here. I’ve spent my whole life trying to survive, and I’m not going to stop now.”

Gi-hun reached out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to be alone anymore,” he said softly. “You can stay with us. We’ll look out for you.”

You looked at him, your expression unreadable. “You think you can protect me?”

“We can try,” he said firmly, his gaze unwavering.

You allowed a small, sad smile to cross your lips. “Maybe. But I’ve learned not to rely on anyone. People always let you down.”

“We’re not like those people,” Jung-bae said, his voice steady. “We’ve all lost something. Maybe together, we can figure out how to hold on to what’s left.”

You nodded slowly, letting their words sink in. They were sincere, you could see that. And as much as it pained you to admit it, you needed them. just as much as they now believed they needed you.

But deep down, you knew the truth. This wasn’t about trust or friendship. This was about survival. And if manipulating their sympathy was what it took to win, then so be it.

The atmosphere in the dormitory was tense as always, but mealtime brought a brief reprieve. The clattering of utensils and the occasional muttered conversation filled the space as the group sat together, picking at their trays. You had settled into your spot between Gi-hun and Hyun-ju, trying to appear as casual as possible.

Everything seemed fine until Hyun-ju’s sharp eyes caught the untouched carton of milk sitting beside your tray. She frowned, her gaze flicking between the carton and you. “Hey,” she said, pointing at it. “You’re not drinking your milk.”

The others glanced over, their attention now drawn to the small detail. Gi-hun raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, you’ve barely touched it. What’s the deal?”

You hesitated, fiddling with your fork as you debated how much to reveal. Finally, you sighed. “I can’t have white milk,” you said simply, your voice calm but firm.

Hyun-ju blinked, tilting her head. “What do you mean, you can’t have it? Like… you don’t like it, or what?”

“I’m allergic,” you admitted, your tone casual but guarded. You weren’t sure how much sympathy you’d get, especially in a place like this, where survival often meant brushing aside personal discomforts.

Hyun-ju’s expression softened almost immediately, and she pushed back her chair, standing up. “Hold on. I’m going to ask if they can give you water or something.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, and you reached out to grab her wrist, stopping her. “Hyun-ju, it’s fine,” you said quickly. “Don’t bother.”

“No, it’s not fine,” she shot back, frowning down at you. “You can’t just sit here not drinking anything. What else are you gonna have? You’ll pass out from dehydration, or worse.”

You shook your head, your voice calm but firm. “It’s not worth it. The people running this… they don’t care about us. You really think they’re going to swap out my milk for water just because I can’t drink it?”

Her frown deepened, and she crossed her arms. “Well, someone has to care. If they won’t do it, maybe we can figure something else out. But you’re not just going to sit here and drink nothing.”

Gi-hun leaned forward, his expression thoughtful. “She’s got a point, Y/N. You’ve gotta stay hydrated somehow. Even if it’s just water from the bathroom sink.”

Jung-bae, who had been quietly watching the exchange, chimed in. “There’s no use trying to appeal to the guards. They’ll just ignore you or worse, punish you for asking. But we should figure something out.”

“I said it’s fine,” you repeated, your voice sharper this time. You hated the idea of drawing more attention to yourself, even if their concern seemed genuine. “I’ll figure it out.”

Hyun-ju huffed, clearly frustrated. “Stubborn, aren’t you? What are you going to do, just sit here and hope your body magically makes water out of thin air? You’ll die of thirst before we even get through the next round.”

You met her gaze evenly, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “I’ve survived worse.”

The group fell silent at that, your words heavy with unspoken meaning. For a moment, even Hyun-ju seemed at a loss for what to say.

Finally, Gyeong-seok broke the silence. “We’ll find a way,” he said quietly but firmly. “Even if the people running this don’t care, we can watch out for each other. That’s the only way any of us are getting through this.”

The others nodded in agreement, their determination clear. You felt a pang of something unfamiliar. was it gratitude? Guilt? You weren’t sure. All you knew was that their concern was both a risk and a tool.

Hyun-ju sat back down, still looking annoyed but no longer pressing the issue. “Fine,” she muttered. “But if I catch you skipping meals or going without water again, I will drag a guard over here, consequences be damned.”

You smiled faintly, appreciating her tenacity even if it made things more complicated. “Noted,” you said, picking at the food on your tray.

As the group returned to their meal, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of warmth in your chest. Their concern might have been a weakness in this game, but it was also a weapon you could use. And if manipulating their sympathy kept you alive, then you wouldn’t hesitate to wield it.

The dormitory had settled into its usual uneasy quiet after the tense moment about the milk. The group was still seated around you, occasionally glancing your way as if to check you were still okay. You’d just started eating again when an unsettling shift in the atmosphere made the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

A shadow fell over the team. It wasn’t just anyone. it was Thanos, a towering, intimidating man whose presence seemed to command the room without him needing to say a word. His number, 230, was stitched boldly on his green tracksuit, and his size alone made it clear why no one dared cross him. Whispers erupted around the dormitory as he approached.

“Well, well,” Thanos rumbled, his voice deep and laced with amusement. “So this is where you’ve been hiding, Number 002.”

You froze for a second, your fork hovering mid-air, before slowly looking up. His grin was smug, a mix of confidence and something unsettlingly charming. You’d noticed him before, of course. It was impossible not to. But this was the first time he’d addressed you directly, and judging by the smirk on his face, he had a very specific intention.

“What do you want, Thanos?” you asked coolly, keeping your tone neutral.

Gi-hun immediately tensed beside you, his jaw tightening. Hyun-ju narrowed her eyes, shifting in her seat like she was ready to jump to your defense if needed. The rest of the group exchanged wary glances, clearly uneasy with the sudden confrontation.

Thanos ignored them entirely, his piercing gaze focused solely on you. “Oh, nothing much,” he said casually, leaning down so his massive frame loomed even closer. “I just wanted to introduce myself properly. It seems rude, doesn’t it? Two… unique individuals like us, sitting in the same room, and I haven’t even said hello.”

“Unique?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow.

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that made your group shift uncomfortably. “Oh, come on. Don’t play coy. We both know you’re not like the rest of these sheep.” He gestured around the room dismissively. “They’re all here by chance. Desperate, pathetic. But you… You walk into this game with confidence. Like you belong here.”

You tilted your head, pretending to be unaffected. “And what does that make you?”

“Me?” His grin widened. “I’m just a man who knows what he wants. And right now…” He leaned even closer, his voice dropping to a low, almost intimate murmur. “…I want to get to know you better.”

Gi-hun abruptly stood up, his fists clenched at his sides. “Hey, back off,” he said sharply, stepping between you and Thanos. “She’s not interested.”

Thanos barely spared him a glance, the smirk never leaving his face. “Is that so?” he drawled. “I don’t recall asking you.”

Hyun-ju stood up next, her glare sharp enough to cut. “She doesn’t need to tell you she’s not interested. We will.”

You raised a hand, motioning for them to sit back down. “It’s fine,” you said calmly, your eyes locked on Thanos. “I can handle this.”

They hesitated, but eventually sat down, though their tension was palpable.

You stood, meeting Thanos’s gaze head-on, refusing to let him intimidate you. “You think you know me, Thanos? You think we’re the same?”

His grin faltered slightly, intrigued by your boldness. “Maybe not the same,” he admitted, his voice softening, almost playful. “But we both understand power. How to use it. How to get what we want.”

“Is that what this is?” you asked, crossing your arms. “You think you can just charm your way into whatever it is you want from me?”

He chuckled again, clearly enjoying the banter. “Charm is just one tool in my arsenal. But I have to say, you’re even more fascinating up close. Strong, fearless, beautiful… You’d make an excellent partner.”

Your group bristled at his words, but you didn’t flinch. Instead, you stepped closer, your voice dropping to a low, icy tone. “If you think flattery is going to work on me, you’re wasting your time.”

Thanos studied you for a moment, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “Maybe,” he admitted. “But I have time to waste. And something tells me you’re worth it.”

Before you could respond, he straightened up and took a deliberate step back, giving you space. “I’ll see you around, 002,” he said, his tone full of promise. “Something tells me this isn’t the last time we’ll talk.”

He turned and walked away, going back to his group buzzing with whispers.

Gi-hun immediately turned to you, his expression concerned. “What the hell was that about?”

“Thanos being Thanos,” you said simply, sitting back down and picking up your fork.

Hyun-ju frowned, her voice laced with irritation. “He’s trouble, Y/N. Don’t let him get to you.”

You nodded, but your mind was already racing. Thanos’s words, his demeanor. it was all calculated. He was testing you, probing for weaknesses. But two could play that game. And if he wanted to get close, you’d make sure it was on your terms.

For now, though, you kept your thoughts to yourself, quietly finishing your meal as the group rallied protectively around you. Whatever Thanos’s game was, you’d be ready.

As the buzz of whispers continued around the dormitory, you kept your focus on your food, pretending to ignore the curious stares and hushed voices from the other players. Thanos’s approach had clearly rattled some of them, but you couldn’t let it rattle you. Not when you knew eyes were always watching.

You stabbed at a piece of bread on your tray, chewing slowly, when a prickling sensation danced along the back of your neck. It wasn’t just the usual attention from the others. This was something sharper, more intense.

Your husband.

You didn’t need to look up to confirm it. you could feel his gaze cutting through the air, piercing through the crowd as if no one else existed in the room but the two of you.

In-ho was somewhere above, watching from the shadows. You had no doubt about that. He always kept an eye on you during the games, ensuring your safety in his own quiet, brooding way. But this time, his presence felt heavier, like a thundercloud waiting to break.

Slowly, you lifted your gaze, scanning the room until your eyes landed on one of the black glass panels where you knew the VIPs and guards often observed. The lighting made it impossible to see through, but you knew he was there. You could practically feel the weight of his stare, and for a moment, your chest tightened.

You knew what that look meant, even if you couldn’t see his face. He’d seen the exchange with Thanos. He’d seen the way the towering man leaned toward you, the way he dared to flirt.

You smiled faintly to yourself, an amused breath escaping your lips. Of course he’d noticed. You could practically hear the silent growl in his mind, the territorial tension that always bubbled to the surface when someone tried to get too close to what was his.

You leaned back against the wall, letting your expression shift into something teasing, knowing full well that he was watching your every move. “What’s wrong?” Hyun-ju asked, noticing the change in your demeanor.

“Nothing,” you replied smoothly, your voice laced with mischief. “Just thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” Gi-hun asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

“About how some people have a terrible habit of overstepping boundaries,” you said lightly, letting your gaze flicker back to the glass panel. You tilted your head slightly, as though addressing someone who wasn’t physically there.

In your mind, you could picture him, his jaw clenched beneath the smooth, impassive mask he wore as the Frontman. He hated the games. He hated having to watch you play a role among the chaos. But most of all, he hated when someone thought they could challenge his claim to you.

The thought made your smirk widen, and you leaned forward again, grabbing the carton of milk you couldn’t drink and setting it aside.

“Who are you looking at?” Hyun-ju asked, her voice suspicious.

“No one,” you replied with a shrug, though the glint in your eyes suggested otherwise. “Just thinking about how interesting this game is turning out to be.”

You knew you’d pay for this later. The silent message you were sending to your husband. a mix of teasing provocation and reassurance. wouldn’t go unnoticed. But for now, you let the moment hang in the air, the knowledge that he was watching giving you a sense of comfort in a world otherwise filled with uncertainty.

From above, hidden behind his mask, In-ho’s lips curved into a faint, possessive smile.

The tense, buzzing atmosphere in the dormitory shifted suddenly when a squared guard’s voice crackled through the mask, drawing everyone’s attention “A new player has joined the game,” the monotone voice announced.

Whispers broke out immediately, players exchanging confused glances. A new player? This late in the game? It was unheard of. Even Gi-hun and the group seemed caught off guard, their murmurs adding to the noise.

You frowned, feigning curiosity, but your heart raced in your chest. You kept your expression neutral, even as you felt that familiar tingling sensation. the weight of eyes on you. But this time, it wasn’t just the other players.

It was him.

The heavy steel doors at the far end of the dormitory creaked open with a slow, ominous groan. All heads turned as a figure stepped inside, his movements deliberate, almost calculated.

He was tall, dressed in the same green tracksuit as everyone else, his number stitched boldly across the chest: 001.

Your breath hitched, but you caught yourself before anyone could notice. Years of practice helped you keep your expression blank as your husband stepped further into the room.

“Incredible,” whispered Hyun-ju beside you, her eyes widening. “I didn’t think anyone could join this late. Who is he?”

“He must be crazy,” Jung-bae muttered. “Coming in now? When things are already this dangerous?”

Gi-hun’s gaze narrowed as he studied the newcomer. “Something feels… off about him,” he said quietly.

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from reacting. If they only knew how “off” this situation really was. You could feel In-ho’s presence like a gravitational force, his every step deliberate as he made his way into the room, his face neutral but his eyes sharp, scanning the crowd.

When his gaze landed on you, your stomach flipped. It was subtle. so subtle no one else would have caught it. but there was a flicker of something in his expression. Possessiveness. A warning.

You knew the risk he was taking, stepping into the game like this. For him to leave the shadows, to take off the mask that granted him safety and anonymity, was a gamble. And yet, here he was, playing his part like the consummate professional he was.

You quickly schooled your expression, forcing your lips into a faint smirk as though the sight of him didn’t faze you. To the others, you looked amused, intrigued by the new arrival. Inside, you were anything but calm.

Gi-hun’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. “What do you think, Y/N?” he asked, his eyes still on In-ho. “Something about this guy seems… strange, doesn’t it?”

You shrugged, keeping your voice light. “Maybe. Or maybe he’s just desperate, like the rest of us.”

Your words drew In-ho’s attention again, his sharp eyes locking on yours. For a moment, the room seemed to freeze.

“Desperate, huh?” he said, his deep voice smooth but edged with something that sent shivers down your spine. “I suppose that’s one way to put it.”

The group fell silent, exchanging uneasy glances. His presence was unsettling, and his confidence didn’t help. In a room full of people clinging to survival, he stood apart calm, collected, almost untouchable.

Hyun-ju leaned closer to you, her voice low. “I don’t like this guy. There’s something weird about him.”

You smiled faintly, your gaze still on In-ho. “You’re not the only one.”

In-ho finally stopped near the center of the room, folding his arms as he surveyed the other players. “So,” he said, his voice carrying across the dormitory, “which one of you wants to fill me in? What’s the dynamic here?”

The players murmured among themselves, unsure of how to respond.

Gi-hun finally spoke up, his tone cautious. “There’s no ‘dynamic.’ Just survive, follow the rules, and don’t trust anyone.”

“Good advice,” In-ho replied, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. His gaze flicked back to you, lingering just long enough to make your heart race.

You forced yourself to look away, pretending to focus on your tray as though his presence didn’t affect you. Inside, your mind raced. What was his plan? Why had he stepped into the game like this?

As the murmurs continued, you felt his eyes on you again, burning into you like a silent challenge. You straightened your posture, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. If he wanted to play this game, you’d make sure you played it better.

The room eventually settled, players returning to their meals, but the tension lingered. In-ho didn’t sit with anyone, instead choosing a spot along the wall where he could observe the room like a predator watching its prey.

You knew this wasn’t the end of it. Whatever his reason for entering the game, it was only the beginning. And you’d have to play your part perfectly if you wanted to keep your secret safe.

The tension in the room had become unbearable, and you could feel your husband’s gaze following your every move, even as you did your best to remain calm and composed. Your tray of food sat untouched now, and you could sense Gi-hun and his group watching you closely, probably questioning why you seemed so distracted.

You couldn’t let them suspect anything.

Rising to your feet, you casually walked over to one of the pink guards stationed near the exit. Keeping your voice low, you said, “I need to use the bathroom.”

The guard didn’t respond immediately, simply nodding once before signaling for you to follow. You moved quickly but without drawing too much attention to yourself, relieved to step out of the suffocating dormitory.

The moment the heavy door closed behind you, muffling the noise from inside, you allowed yourself a small exhale. You weren’t just escaping the room. you were escaping him. Or so you thought.

As you approached the bathroom, you heard footsteps behind you. Turning your head slightly, you spotted another guard escorting the newest player. your husband, In-ho.

Your heart skipped a beat. You knew this wasn’t a coincidence. His movements were deliberate, and the look in his eyes as he glanced briefly your way made it clear: he was following you.

You entered the small, dimly lit bathroom, hoping to gather your thoughts. But before you could even take a proper breath, the door opened again. You turned sharply, only to see In-ho stepping inside, his tall frame filling the narrow space as he closed the door behind him with a soft click.

“In-ho,” you hissed, your voice barely above a whisper. “What the hell are you doing?”

But before you could say anything more, he crossed the distance between you in two quick strides and pulled you into a deep, heated kiss. His hands cupped your face with an urgency that made your knees weaken, and for a moment, all the tension, all the questions, melted away.

You kissed him back instinctively, your hands clutching the front of his tracksuit as if to ground yourself. The world outside the bathroom the players, the guards, the games ceased to exist.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm and uneven. “Jagiya,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with something between frustration and longing, “what do you think I’m doing here?”

You blinked, trying to steady your breathing. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking. You’re risking everything, In-ho.”

His lips curled into a faint smirk, though there was no humor in his expression. “I couldn’t just sit back and watch him flirt with you. That bastard Thanos thinking he could get close to my wife?”

“In-ho,” you said, your voice firm but soft, “you didn’t have to—”

“And then,” he interrupted, his eyes narrowing as he pulled back slightly to look at you fully, “I couldn’t help but notice something else. Something important.”

“What?” you asked, frowning.

His hand reached down, gently grabbing yours, lifting it between you. He tilted it to reveal your bare left ring finger. “You’re not wearing your wedding ring.”

Your breath caught, and you stared at him, your mind racing for an explanation. “I… I had to take it off, In-ho,” you said quickly. “You know I couldn’t risk anyone seeing it. They’d ask questions.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours. Then, with a sigh, he released your hand and leaned back against the sink, running a hand through his hair. “I know,” he muttered. “But seeing your hand like that… it made me feel like you weren’t mine anymore. Like I’d lost you.”

You stepped closer, reaching out to touch his chest. “You haven’t lost me, In-ho. You never could. This is all part of the plan, remember? We agreed on this.”

“I know,” he said again, his voice softer now, his hand reaching up to cover yours. “But it doesn’t make it any easier. Watching you out there, pretending you’re just another player, knowing I can’t protect you the way I want to…”

“You are protecting me,” you told him firmly. “Just by being here.”

He looked at you, his expression softening as he lifted a hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Jagiya,” he murmured, his voice filled with emotion, “I don’t care what it takes. I’ll do whatever I have to, as long as it means keeping you safe.”

You smiled faintly, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his tone. “Then trust me,” you whispered. “Trust that I can handle this. We’ll get through it together, just like we always do.”

He nodded slowly, his hand cupping your cheek again. “I do trust you,” he said. “More than anyone. But I need you to promise me something.”

“What?”

“Promise me you won’t let him or anyone else get too close,” he said, his tone serious. “You’re mine, jagiya. Don’t let them forget that.”

You smiled again, leaning into his touch. “I promise.”

For a moment, the two of you stood there, the chaos of the games forgotten as you shared this quiet, stolen moment together. Then, reluctantly, In-ho straightened and stepped back

“We should get back before anyone notices,” he said, his voice returning to its usual calm authority.

You nodded, adjusting your tracksuit and taking a deep breath. As the two of you stepped out of the bathroom, careful not to leave together, you couldn’t help but glance at him one last time before heading back to the dormitory.

In-ho might be risking everything by being here, but so were you. And as much as you hated the danger, you couldn’t deny that it made your bond even stronger.

The air in the dormitory was thick with tension as you settled back into your spot with the group, pretending to eat while your mind raced. You could feel Gi-hun and them group watching you closely, their curiosity about the mysterious new player. your husband, who now bore the number 001 still lingering.

Across the room, In-ho had taken a spot by one of the walls, leaning casually against it with his arms folded, his sharp eyes observing everything and everyone. To the rest of the players, he might have appeared as just another desperate soul, but you knew better. Every movement, every glance, was deliberate. He was watching, analyzing, and waiting.

But then the tension shifted, the room growing quieter as a heavy, looming figure began to move.

Thanos.

You kept your head down, though your muscles tensed as you noticed him striding purposefully across the room. His hulking presence was impossible to ignore, and it seemed like everyone else in the dormitory was holding their breath, waiting to see what he would do next.

You dared a quick glance and saw him heading straight for your husband.

Your stomach dropped.

In-ho remained still, his posture relaxed and almost dismissive, as though he hadn’t even noticed the giant of a man approaching him. But you knew better. He’d noticed. He noticed everything.

When Thanos finally stopped in front of him, towering over the leaner man, the silence in the room was deafening.

“Hey,” Thanos said, his voice deep and grating, drawing the attention of nearly everyone. “Player 001. Old man.”

In-ho didn’t respond immediately, his dark eyes slowly lifting to meet Thanos’s. There was no fear in his expression only a calm, unnerving indifference that you recognized all too well.

Thanos smirked, clearly taking your husband’s silence as some form of weakness. “I saw you looking over at 002 earlier,” he said, his voice loud enough for the surrounding players to hear. “Let me give you a little piece of advice, old man. Stay away from her.”

The air grew heavier, the other players murmuring softly amongst themselves as they tried to make sense of the brewing confrontation.

Thanos leaned down slightly, his smirk widening as he added, “She’s my flower. Got it?”

You froze, gripping your tray tightly as the words hit your ears. Your first instinct was to intervene, but you knew you couldn’t. Not without risking everything. You had to trust that In-ho could handle this on his own.

In-ho didn’t flinch, didn’t blink. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, as if studying Thanos like he were a mildly interesting puzzle. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, steady, and cold.

“Your flower?” he repeated, his tone laced with quiet amusement.

Thanos straightened, crossing his massive arms over his chest. “Yeah. My flower. She’s mine. So whatever you think you’re doing, whatever you think you saw, forget about it.”

In-ho’s lips curved into a faint, dangerous smile, one that only you would recognize as a warning. “I see,” he said softly, his voice carrying just enough weight to silence the murmurs around him. “You think she’s yours.”

Thanos’s smirk faltered slightly, but he held his ground. “That’s right. So stay in your lane, old man.”

For a moment, In-ho said nothing, simply letting the words hang in the air. Then he took a small step closer, his calm, collected demeanor never wavering.

“You should choose your words carefully,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but somehow more menacing than if he’d shouted. “Because the next time you call her ‘yours,’ I might take it as a challenge. And I don’t think you’re ready for that.”

The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Thanos seemed momentarily thrown off, his confidence wavering as he stared down at In-ho, who hadn’t so much as batted an eye.

You held your breath, your heart pounding in your chest as you watched the silent standoff.

Finally, Thanos let out a bark of laughter, though it sounded forced. “Whatever, old man,” he said, stepping back. “Just remember what I said.”

In-ho didn’t respond, his gaze never leaving Thanos until the larger man turned and walked away. Only then did he relax slightly, leaning back against the wall as if nothing had happened.

You let out a quiet sigh of relief, though your hands were still trembling slightly. This was far from over. you could feel it.

As the tension in the room began to dissipate, you caught In-ho’s gaze from across the dormitory. His expression was unreadable, but the subtle flicker in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

He wasn’t just here to watch the game. He was here to protect you, no matter what it took.

The dormitory was still abuzz with murmurs and speculative glances after the tense encounter between Thanos and your husband, though most of the players were doing their best to stay out of it. You sat quietly with Gi-hun and his group, your mind racing as you kept one eye on In-ho who was leaned nonchalantly against the wall, completely unbothered by the attention his presence continued to attract.

Gi-hun, ever the observer, had been watching him carefully. He leaned closer to you, his voice low but curious. “That Player 001. There’s something different about him, don’t you think?”

You shrugged, feigning indifference as you stabbed at your tray of food. “He seems quiet. Maybe he’s just trying to survive like the rest of us.”

Gi-hun didn’t look convinced, but he turned his attention back to In-ho. After a moment, he stood and walked over to him, his usual cautious but friendly demeanor firmly in place.

In-ho glanced at him, his expression unreadable as Gi-hun stopped a few feet away.

“Hey, Player 001,” Gi-hun said, his tone casual. “You seem like you’ve got your wits about you. What do you say to joining our group? It’s safer to stick together, and we could use someone with your… composure.”

In-ho didn’t respond immediately, his sharp gaze flickering briefly to you. You caught his eye for the briefest moment, giving him a subtle nod a silent signal to accept the offer.

After a beat, In-ho smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s generous of you,” he said, his voice calm and measured. “I suppose it would be better than going at it alone.”

Gi-hun smiled, clearly pleased. “Great. We’re stronger together.”

The rest of the group watched the interaction with mixed expressions. Dae-ho, in particular, looked skeptical as he leaned back, crossing his arms. “What’s your name?” he asked bluntly, his tone carrying a slight edge.

For a moment, In-ho hesitated, as though considering how much to share. Then, with practiced ease, he answered, “Young-il. That’s what you can call me.”

Dae-ho squinted, clearly still suspicious, but Gi-hun clapped him on the shoulder, cutting off any further questions. “Come on, Dae-ho. Don’t scare him off. We’re all just trying to survive here.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dae-ho muttered, his gaze lingering on In-ho for another moment before he looked away.

Hyun-ju, on the other hand, smiled warmly, clearly trying to ease the tension. “Welcome to the group, Young-il. I’m Hyun-ju, and that’s Gi-hun, Dae-ho, Jung-bae, and, of course, Y/N.”

“Thanks,” In-ho replied simply, his gaze sliding back to you for a fraction of a second. The look was fleeting, but you caught it. the unspoken understanding passing between you.

You forced a small smile, doing your best to appear unaffected. “Welcome,” you said, your voice light.

In-ho gave you a small nod before turning his attention back to Gi-hun. “So, what’s the plan?”

Gi-hun grinned, looking relieved to have a new ally. “For now, we stick together and keep an eye out for the next game. It’s coming soon, and who knows what they’ll throw at us.”

In-ho nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Sounds reasonable.”

As the group began to settle back into their spots, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of satisfaction. This was exactly what you needed a way to get close to Gi-hun and his team, to learn their strengths and weaknesses, and, when the time came, to bring them down from within.

But you also knew this wouldn’t be easy. Gi-hun was sharp, and his instincts were good. It would take every ounce of your cunning and In-ho’s to pull this off.

From across the room, In-ho caught your eye again, his lips twitching into the faintest smirk. It was a reminder, a promise: no matter how dangerous this game became, you were in it together. And together, you’d make sure Gi-hun and his group never saw what was coming.

The air was thick with tension as the group finally settled, their murmured conversations dying down into cautious silence. Everyone seemed to be on edge, bracing for whatever the next game might bring. You sat quietly, playing with the edge of your sleeve, your mind racing as you replayed the last few moments.

In-ho or “Young-il” now had integrated himself into the group smoothly, his calm demeanor drawing only minimal suspicion. But you knew better than to relax. This was only the beginning, and the two of you had to stay sharp if you wanted to dismantle this group from within.

The sound of someone approaching pulled you from your thoughts. Looking up, you saw In-ho walking toward you, his expression carefully neutral. To the others, he might have looked like a weary player seeking conversation, but you knew this was deliberate.

Your stomach tightened as he stopped beside you, his dark eyes locking with yours for the briefest moment before he sat down.

“Mind if I sit here?” he asked, his tone light enough to seem casual but with just the slightest edge that only you would catch.

Gi-hun and the others glanced over but didn’t say anything, apparently content to let him join. You nodded, keeping your expression as neutral as possible. “Sure,” you said simply.

In-ho settled beside you, leaning back slightly as though he were relaxing, but you knew better. Every movement he made was calculated. He turned his head slightly toward you, his voice so low that no one else could hear.

“What about the VIPs?” you whispered under your breath, your lips barely moving.

His jaw tightened slightly, his eyes flickering around the room as though ensuring no one was paying too much attention. Then, just as quietly, he murmured, “Handled for now. They won’t interfere.”

You frowned, your fingers twitching slightly as you resisted the urge to press him further. “And by ‘handled,’ you mean?”

“They think I’m monitoring the players,” he replied, his tone almost dismissive. “As far as they’re concerned, this is all part of the plan. Let them think that.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding. “You’re taking a huge risk being here, In—Young-il,” you corrected quickly, catching yourself before saying his real name. “If they find out—”

“They won’t,” he interrupted, his voice firm but still soft enough that only you could hear. “And neither will anyone else, as long as we stick to the plan.”

You hesitated, glancing briefly at Gi-hun and the others. They seemed to be caught up in their own quiet discussions, paying little attention to you and In-ho. Still, you couldn’t shake the unease settling in your chest.

“What if they suspect us?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

In-ho’s lips curled into the faintest smirk, his confidence almost maddening. “Then we give them something else to focus on,” he said. “Trust me, jagiya. I’ve got it under control.”

You wanted to argue, to push back against his calm assurance, but you knew better. In-ho was always ten steps ahead, always thinking two moves further than anyone else. If he said it was under control, then you had to believe him.

Still, you couldn’t ignore the weight of the situation. The VIPs were dangerous, and their presence was a constant threat not just to the players, but to you and In-ho as well. If they caught wind of what you were planning…

In-ho’s voice cut through your spiraling thoughts. “Focus on the group,” he said quietly, his gaze fixed ahead as though he weren’t speaking to you at all. “The faster we take them down, the faster we can end this.”

You nodded slowly, forcing yourself to push the doubts aside. He was right. There was no room for hesitation, not now.

“Fine,” you murmured. “But if anything changes—”

“I’ll handle it,” he said firmly, his eyes meeting yours briefly, a flicker of something softer passing between you. “Just stick to your role, jagiya. We’ll make it out of this.”

You gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, your fingers clenching into fists as you steeled yourself. The game was far from over, but with In-ho by your side even in the shadows you felt a little more prepared for what was to come.

The group gathered tightly in a circle in the dimly lit dormitory, their faces illuminated only by the faint glow of the ceiling lights. The air was tense, thick with anticipation as Gi-hun leaned forward, his voice low but determined. This wasn’t just idle talk anymore this was a plan.

“Alright,” Gi-hun began, his eyes scanning the group to ensure everyone was paying attention. “I’ve been thinking. If we’re going to survive this, we need to take control. We can’t just keep waiting for the next game and hoping for the best. We have to act.”

Hyun-ju frowned, her arms crossed. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

Gi-hun took a deep breath, his expression resolute. “I’m suggesting we create a distraction. Something big. A fight that gets so out of hand it throws the guards off balance. Once the chaos starts, one of us can tackle a guard, take their weapon, and start fighting back.”

The group exchanged uneasy glances.

Jung-bae, ever the skeptic, raised an eyebrow. “And you think that’ll work? They’re armed, Gi-hun. And there are a lot more of them than us.”

Gi-hun nodded, acknowledging the concern. “I know it’s risky, but we don’t have a choice. If we don’t fight back, we’re all going to die in these games anyway. This is our only shot.”

“What happens after we take a gun?” Dae-ho asked, his tone cautious. “Because that’s not exactly the end of the problem.”

Gi-hun leaned forward, his voice dropping even lower. “Once we have the guns, we keep the fight going. We’ll make sure to keep one guard alive just one so we can force them to give us access to the upper levels. That’s where we’ll find the control rooms.”

“And then?” Hyun-ju prompted.

“And then,” Gi-hun said, his eyes blazing with determination, “we take down the rest of the guards and confront the leader of the mask. Him and his wife.”

The mention of the leader’s wife made you stiffen, though you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jung-bae interrupted, holding up a hand. “Back up. How do you know he’s even married? For all we know, that’s just some rumor they cooked up to mess with us.”

Dae-ho nodded in agreement, his brow furrowed. “Yeah, and even if it’s true, what makes you so sure she’s involved in all of this? What if she has no idea what’s really going on?”

Hyun-ju chimed in, her voice cautious but thoughtful. “Or worse what if she’s being forced to stay here? Held against her will? We don’t know anything about her. We can’t just assume she’s an enemy.”

Gi-hun sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I don’t know all the details, okay? But I’ve heard enough from the whispers around here to believe it’s true. The leader and his wife are the ones calling the shots. They’re the ones keeping us trapped in this nightmare.”

“And what if you’re wrong?” Hyun-ju pressed.

Gi-hun hesitated, his expression faltering for a moment before he steeled himself. “If I’m wrong, then we’ll deal with it when we get there. But right now, we don’t have time to second-guess everything. If we wait too long, we’ll miss our chance.”

You stayed quiet, listening intently as the group debated the plan. Inside, your mind was racing. Gi-hun was smarter than you’d initially given him credit for, but he still didn’t know the full picture.

Dae-ho crossed his arms, clearly skeptical. “Even if this works and that’s a big if we’re going to need more information. We don’t even know how many guards there are, let alone where the control rooms are. We’re going in blind.”

Gi-hun’s jaw tightened, frustration flickering in his eyes. “That’s why we have to be smart about this. Once we get a guard, we’ll make them tell us everything. It’s not perfect, but it’s all we’ve got.”

Jung-bae glanced at you, his expression curious. “What do you think, Y/N? You’ve been quiet.”

All eyes turned to you, and for a moment, you felt the weight of their gazes pressing down on you. You hesitated, carefully considering your response. This was a delicate situation. you couldn’t afford to reveal too much, but you also couldn’t appear suspicious.

“I think…” you began slowly, your voice measured, “that Gi-hun has a point. We can’t just sit around and wait for the next game to kill us. But at the same time, we need to be careful. This plan has a lot of moving parts, and if even one thing goes wrong…”

You let your voice trail off, the implication clear.

Hyun-ju nodded, her expression softening. “She’s right. We need to think this through.”

Gi-hun sighed again, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I know it’s not perfect. But we’re running out of time. If anyone has a better idea, I’m all ears.”

Silence fell over the group as everyone exchanged uncertain glances.

You glanced at In-ho out of the corner of your eye, his expression unreadable as he sat quietly, observing the conversation without contributing. You knew he was processing everything, analyzing the plan and its potential flaws.

Finally, Gi-hun spoke again, his voice firm. “Alright. Let’s sleep on it. We’ll go over the details tomorrow and finalize the plan then. Agreed?”

The group nodded reluctantly, though the tension in the air remained palpable. As everyone began to disperse, you felt a chill run down your spine. This was it. the moment when the game within the game truly began.

As the tense conversation dwindled and Gi-hun’s group began to settle into an uneasy silence, the sharp crackle of the loudspeaker echoed through the dormitory. Everyone froze, their heads turning instinctively toward the ceiling as the woman’s calm, measured voice filled the room.

“Attention, players,” she announced, her tone devoid of emotion, yet commanding enough to silence even the faintest whispers. “The lights will be turned off in five minutes. All players are instructed to return to their designated sleeping areas immediately. Any player found outside of their area after the lights are out will be eliminated.”

Her words hung heavily in the air, the last phrase chilling enough to send a ripple of unease through the room.

A few murmurs broke out among the players, many of whom were already moving toward their bunks, their footsteps hurried but quiet. Everyone understood what “eliminated” meant, and no one wanted to die 

You glanced at Gi-hun, who was already whispering something to Dae-ho, likely reinforcing parts of the plan they’d just discussed. His eyes flickered briefly toward you, as if to gauge your reaction, before he nodded to himself and began making his way to his assigned bed.

In-ho still posing as “Young-il” stood quietly, his calm demeanor betraying nothing of the storm that brewed within. His dark eyes met yours briefly, and you caught the faintest flicker of something in his gaze: a silent reminder to stay vigilant.

“Looks like we’re out of time for tonight,” Hyun-ju said softly, breaking the silence between the group. She glanced toward you, her brow furrowed with concern. “You okay, Y/N? You’ve been kind of quiet since the meeting.”

You offered a small, reassuring smile. “I’m fine. Just thinking about everything. There’s… a lot to take in.”

Hyun-ju nodded sympathetically, her own unease visible on her face. “Yeah, I get that. Try to get some rest, okay? We’ll figure this out tomorrow.”

You nodded, though rest felt like an impossible luxury in a place like this.

As you turned to head toward your bunk, you felt a hand graze your arm. You glanced back to see In-ho standing just behind you, his expression as impassive as ever, though his touch lingered for a fraction of a second longer than necessary.

“Go to bed,” he murmured quietly, his voice so low only you could hear. “And don’t draw attention to yourself tonight.”

You nodded slightly, acknowledging his warning, before continuing on your way.

The dormitory slowly descended into relative quiet as players shuffled into their beds, the air heavy with anticipation and dread. The flickering fluorescent lights overhead hummed ominously, casting long, eerie shadows on the walls.

As you settled into your bunk, you couldn’t help but scan the room one last time. The sight was grim: rows upon rows of bunks filled with weary, frightened players, each one silently grappling with their own desperation and fear.

Across the room, you spotted In-ho climbing into a lower bunk, his movements unhurried and composed. To anyone else, he looked like just another player trying to survive the night. But you knew better.

The loudspeaker crackled again, jolting you from your thoughts.

“Lights out in one minute,” the woman announced, her monotone voice cutting through the tense silence. “Prepare yourselves for rest.”

A heavy hush fell over the room, broken only by the faint rustling of blankets and the occasional whispered exchange between bunkmates.

You laid back, staring up at the metal frame above you. The seconds seemed to drag on endlessly, your thoughts racing as you replayed the day’s events. The tension between team, the lingering threat of the group , the weight of your mission with In-ho it was all too much.

Finally, the lights flickered once, twice, and then cut out completely, plunging the room into darkness. The hum of the fluorescent bulbs was replaced by an oppressive silence, broken only by the distant sound of footsteps as the guards began their patrols.

You closed your eyes, forcing yourself to breathe steadily. The night was far from over, and you knew better than to let your guard down. In this place, even the smallest misstep could be fatal.

Somewhere across the room, you felt In-ho’s presence like a shadow in the dark a steady, silent reminder that, for better or worse, the two of you were in this together.

The soft strains of a melancholic melody filled the dormitory, its haunting tune weaving through the heavy silence of the room. You lay on your back, staring up into the shadows of the bunk above you, the dim emergency lights barely illuminating the rows of beds. The music was a strange choice, almost mocking, as if to remind everyone that their lives were nothing more than a twisted game orchestrated for someone else’s entertainment.

Your mind raced as you tried to piece together the scattered fragments of your plan. You couldn’t afford to make a mistake, not now. the group was determined, but their desperation made them reckless, and that was something you and In-ho could exploit.

They think they’re being clever, you thought bitterly. But they have no idea who they’re dealing with.

As you turned over to adjust your position, you felt the faintest shift in the mattress beneath you. Your muscles tensed instinctively, your hand moving toward the edge of your blanket, ready to act if necessary.

Before you could make a move, a familiar warmth pressed against your side, and a low, teasing whisper reached your ear. “Relax, jagiya,” In-ho murmured, his tone calm and steady. “It’s just me.”

You exhaled softly, letting the tension in your body dissipate as he settled beside you in the impossibly narrow space. Even in the near-total darkness, you could feel his presence steady, grounding, and entirely at odds with the chaotic world around you.

“What are you doing here?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the faint hum of the music. “You know how risky this is.”

“Risky for anyone else, maybe,” he replied, his breath warm against your ear. “But not for me. Besides, I couldn’t let another time go by without checking on my jagiya.”

You rolled your eyes, though the faintest hint of a smile tugged at your lips. “Checking on me or making sure I’m not stealing the spotlight?”

“Both,” he said with a quiet chuckle, his fingers brushing against yours. “But mostly to make sure you’re not planning anything without me.”

You huffed softly, shifting so you could face him. “Fine. Since you’re here, we might as well use this time wisely.”

“Of course,” he said smoothly. “What do you have in mind?”

You glanced around, ensuring no one was awake or paying attention. Most of the players were either asleep or too consumed by their own fears to notice much of anything.

“We need to twist Gi-hun’s plan against him,” you began, your voice low and deliberate. “They think they’re being smart by targeting the guards and using one to get access to the control rooms, but they don’t understand how this place really works.”

In-ho nodded, his tone thoughtful. “They’re underestimating the chain of command. Even if they manage to overpower a guard, they’ll be stuck before they get anywhere near the upper levels.”

“Exactly,” you agreed. “But we need to let them think they’re making progress. We’ll give them just enough freedom to act, and when the time is right—”

“We’ll shut them down,” In-ho finished, his voice laced with quiet satisfaction.

You smirked, leaning in slightly. “I knew you’d understand. Now, here’s the key part…”

The two of you huddled closer, your whispers barely audible even to each other as you detailed the next steps. You mapped out ways to subtly manipulate the group’s actions, feeding them misinformation and false hope to ensure they’d walk right into the trap you and In-ho were carefully setting.

“They’ll never see it coming,” In-ho said, his voice carrying a dangerous edge that sent a shiver down your spine.

“That’s the idea,” you murmured, allowing yourself a small smile.

For a moment, silence fell between you, the music still playing faintly in the background. You could feel In-ho watching you, his gaze intense even in the dark.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice filled with amusement.

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Maybe a little. But mostly, I’m just tired of people underestimating us.”

He chuckled softly, his hand brushing against your cheek. “That’s my jagiya. Always thinking five steps ahead.”

“Someone has to,” you replied, your voice tinged with humor.

In-ho leaned in, his lips brushing against your lips. “Be careful, though. If you’re too clever, you might make me jealous.”

“Jealous?” you teased, arching an eyebrow. “Of what?”

“Of how dangerously brilliant you are,” he said, his tone playful but sincere.

You rolled your eyes, though a warmth spread through you at his words. “Just focus on your part of the plan, Young-il,” you said with a smirk.

He grinned, his hand squeezing yours briefly before he shifted away. “Don’t worry, jagiya. I’ve got it covered.”

As he slipped out of your bunk as silently as he had entered, you watched him disappear into the shadows, your mind already racing with the possibilities ahead. The game was about to change, and you were ready to make your next move.

The next morning, the dormitory was alive with the sounds of shuffling feet, murmured conversations, and the occasional clatter of metal trays as breakfast was distributed. The guards, ever watchful, stood silently at the edges of the room, their presence a constant reminder of the stakes.

You grabbed your tray and made your way over to the group, careful to maintain your role as just another player. Gi-hun was already seated, speaking in hushed tones with Dae-ho and Hyun-ju. Across from him, Gyeong-seok sat with his arms crossed, a skeptical look on his face. Young-il was perched quietly at the end of the table, his posture relaxed but his sharp gaze taking in every detail of the room.

Sliding into the seat beside him, you nudged him lightly with your elbow before addressing the group. “What’s the plan for today?”

Gi-hun leaned forward, lowering his voice. “We’re going to stage a fight,” he said, his tone firm. “If we can cause enough chaos, we’ll distract the guards and create an opening for someone to grab a weapon or—”

You held up a hand, cutting him off. “Hold on. I was thinking of something more… strategic.”

The group turned to you, their faces a mix of curiosity and skepticism. Young-il didn’t say a word, but you could feel his eyes on you, watching your every move.

“What are you thinking?” Hyun-ju asked cautiously.

You set your spoon down and leaned in, lowering your voice. “I can take one of the guards with me to the bathroom. They’ll follow, thinking I’m just some helpless player.”

Hyun-ju frowned. “Okay… and then what?”

You smirked faintly, tapping your fingers against the edge of your tray. “Then, I take him out.”

The group exchanged uneasy glances.

Dae-ho raised an eyebrow. “You? Take out a guard?”

“I know how to fight,” you said firmly, your confidence unwavering. “I’ve taken down men twice my size before. Trust me, it’s not as hard as it looks if you know where to hit.”

Gyeong-seok leaned back in his chair, arms still crossed. “That’s a risky move. What if you screw up?”

“I won’t,” you said sharply. “But that’s not all. I’ve been thinking about the utensils they give us the spoons, the forks.”

Hyun-ju frowned. “What about them?”

You picked up your spoon and held it up, turning it in your hand. “They’re metal, sturdy enough to be used as weapons if you sharpen the edges. We just need to save a few and work on them when the guards aren’t watching.”

There was a brief silence as the group processed your idea.

“Wait,” Dae-ho said, furrowing his brow. “You’re saying we should stockpile the utensils and turn them into weapons?”

You nodded. “Exactly. They won’t suspect a thing. By the time they realize what we’re doing, it’ll be too late.”

The group exchanged glances, their skepticism slowly giving way to understanding.

Gi-hun rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “It’s… bold. But it could work.”

“It will work,” you insisted. “We just need to be smart about it.”

Young-il, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke, his voice calm and measured. “She’s right. The guards are predictable. They don’t pay close attention to the small things like what we do with the utensils. If we’re careful, we can pull this off.”

You glanced at him, hiding a smirk. His support was exactly what you needed to push the group toward agreement.

Hyun-ju nodded slowly. “Okay. I’m in.”

Dae-ho sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This is crazy, but… fine. Let’s do it.”

Gi-hun looked at you, his expression serious. “We’ll follow your lead on this. But if anything goes wrong…”

“It won’t,” you said firmly, cutting him off.

The group murmured their agreement, and you leaned back in your chair, satisfied.

As the conversation shifted to other details of the plan, you felt Young-il lean slightly closer to you, his voice barely audible as he whispered, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, jagiya?”

You didn’t look at him, keeping your gaze on the group. “You think I’d come this far if I wasn’t?”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and familiar. “Just don’t let them outsmart you. You know I’ll be here to clean up if they do.”

You finally glanced at him, your lips curving into a faint smile. “I don’t plan on giving you the chance.”

Young-il leaned back, his expression unreadable, though there was a glint of something dangerous in his eyes. Whatever happened next, you both knew the real game was just beginning.

As the group continued discussing the details of their makeshift rebellion, you leaned slightly closer to Young-il, your voice a mere whisper, audible only to him. “You better tell the guards about this,” you murmured, your tone laced with urgency. “If they’re not prepared, Gi-hun’s plan could spiral out of control.”

Young-il kept his expression neutral, his body language relaxed as though you were discussing something as mundane as the weather. His eyes, however, flicked to yours with a sharpness that only you could recognize. “You think I haven’t already thought about that, jagiya?” he whispered back, his voice smooth but edged with a quiet authority.

“I’m serious,” you pressed, your tone firm but still quiet enough to avoid drawing attention. “If the guards don’t know what’s coming, they’ll think we’re actually working with the players. That’s a risk we can’t afford.”

Young-il’s lips twitched in what might have been amusement or irritation it was always hard to tell with him. “You underestimate me,” he murmured, his voice barely above a breath. “We’ve handled worse than this.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly, your hand tightening around the edge of your tray as you leaned in closer. “And what happens if one of those guards messes up?” you hissed. “What if they get themselves trapped? What if they panic and reveal their face?”

He turned his head just enough to look at you fully, his gaze steady and unyielding. “Then we deal with it,” he said calmly. “Like we always do.”

“Don’t be so dismissive,” you snapped quietly. “One mistake could expose everything us, the guards, the entire operation. If even one player gets proof of what’s really going on, this whole game falls apart.”

Young-il tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “You’re worried,” he said softly. “That’s cute.”

You shot him a glare, though your heart skipped a beat at the teasing lilt in his voice. “I’m not worried. I’m realistic,” you countered. “You might enjoy taking risks, but I’m not about to let your recklessness ruin everything we’ve worked for.”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a near growl. “Careful, jagiya. You’re starting to sound like you don’t trust me.”

You held his gaze, refusing to back down. “I trust you,” you said evenly. “But I don’t trust the guards. And I don’t trust Gi-hun and his little rebellion not to find a way to exploit them.”

Young-il studied you for a long moment before letting out a quiet sigh. “Fine,” he said at last. “I’ll talk to the guards. Make sure they’re prepared for whatever nonsense these players try to pull.”

“Good,” you said, your tone clipped. “And make sure they stay in line. If one of them so much as flinches in the wrong direction—”

“They won’t,” he interrupted, his voice cutting through your words like a knife. “I’ll handle it.”

You nodded slightly, your tension easing just a fraction. “See that you do,” you murmured, leaning back in your seat as though nothing had happened.

Young-il’s smirk returned, softer this time, as he leaned closer to you, his voice so low it was almost inaudible. “You really do worry too much, jagiya,” he said, his breath warm against your ear. “But I’ll admit, it’s one of the things I love about you.”

You rolled your eyes, though a faint smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. “Just don’t mess this up,” you said quietly. “We’re playing a dangerous game here.”

“Danger’s half the fun,” he replied, his tone light but his eyes dark with meaning.

As he settled back into his seat, you let out a slow breath, your mind already racing ahead to the next move. The pieces were in place, but the board was far from stable. One wrong step, and everything could come crashing down.

The tension in the dormitory was thick, but you masked it well, your posture relaxed as you engaged in idle conversation with the team. The group sat huddled around, discussing the plan for the day with hushed voices, but you made sure to steer their focus toward you. Your words were carefully chosen, your demeanor confident yet unassuming, as if you were fully invested in their rebellion.

“So, Hyun-ju,” you said, tilting your head with an easy smile, “you were saying something earlier about distracting the guards during the fight? What’s your strategy?”

Hyun-ju blinked, startled that you’d singled her out. She shifted nervously in her seat, fumbling for a response. “Uh, I-I guess I could… maybe pretend to faint or something?”

You nodded thoughtfully, pretending to consider her idea. “That’s smart,” you said, your tone encouraging. “The guards would definitely rush over to check on you. It could buy us some time.”

Gi-hun chimed in, his brows furrowed in concentration. “Yeah, but we’d need to make it convincing. If they see through it, it could backfire.”

“True,” you agreed, leaning in slightly to draw the group’s attention further into the conversation. “But maybe we could enhance it somehow. Like, if someone else creates a commotion at the same time, it would divide their focus.”

As the group fell into a heated discussion about the logistics of their plan, you stole a quick glance at Young-il. He was sitting at the edge of the group, his body language casual, almost detached, as though he wasn’t fully invested in the conversation. But you caught the subtle flicker of his eyes, the way they darted toward one of the guards stationed near the far wall.

You knew exactly what he was planning.

Turning your attention back to the group, you leaned forward conspiratorially, lowering your voice just enough to keep their focus locked on you. “What about the utensils we talked about ?” you asked. “Did anyone manage to save theirs?”

Hyun-ju reached into her pocket and produced a spoon, holding it up triumphantly. Dae-ho and Gyeong-seok followed suit, while Gi-hun nodded in approval.

“Good,” you said, a satisfied smile on your face. “We’ll need those later. Just make sure to keep them hidden until the right moment.”

As you continued to keep the team engaged, you subtly shifted your position, angling yourself so that you could see Young-il out of the corner of your eye. He was making his move, slipping away from the group with a quiet, calculated grace that only you would notice.

The other team Team O was completely oblivious, too busy bickering amongst themselves to notice anything outside their circle. You couldn’t help but smirk inwardly at their lack of awareness.

Young-il crossed the room with practiced ease, his steps measured and deliberate. He made his way toward one of the guards, who stood rigidly by the wall, their attention seemingly fixed on the room but their body language betraying a slight lack of focus.

You felt your pulse quicken as you watched from the corner of your eye, keeping your expression neutral as Gi-hun continued to talk.

“What about the timing?” Gi-hun asked, looking around at the group. “We need to make sure everything happens simultaneously. If even one part of the plan goes off too early, we’re screwed.”

“Exactly,” you said, seizing the opportunity to steer the conversation. “We need to coordinate perfectly. Maybe we should assign specific roles to each person so there’s no confusion.”

As the group debated who should do what, you noticed Young-il had reached the guard. He leaned in slightly, pretending to adjust his shoe as he whispered something to the masked figure. The guard gave a barely perceptible nod before shifting their stance, subtly acknowledging the message.

You forced yourself to focus back on the group, masking your satisfaction with a thoughtful expression. “Let’s run through the plan one more time,” you said, keeping your tone steady. “We can’t afford any mistakes.”

The group nodded, their attention entirely consumed by the details of their rebellion. They had no idea that their carefully crafted plan was already being unraveled from the inside.

Meanwhile, Young-il slipped back into the group’s circle as if he had never left, his expression calm and unreadable. He caught your eye for the briefest of moments, and you knew without a doubt that the first piece of your counter-plan was in motion.

The atmosphere in the dormitory remained heavy with tension as the groups continued their quiet conversations and whispered plans. Unnoticed by most, one of the guards stationed near the far wall began to shift subtly, their body language signaling a change in duty. A new guard, slightly taller and with an even stiffer posture, approached silently to replace them.

You caught the movement out of the corner of your eye, your attention momentarily drawn to the exchange. It was subtle smooth enough that most players wouldn’t notice but you had spent enough time orchestrating such maneuvers to recognize it for what it was. The first guard nodded briefly at the newcomer before stepping away, their departure almost ghostlike as they disappeared down the hallway.

Your gaze flicked to Young-il, who sat a few feet away, appearing perfectly relaxed. His sharp eyes, however, followed the departing guard just as yours had. He didn’t turn his head or make any overt movements, but you knew he had noticed the switch and understood its significance.

Returning your attention to the group, you forced yourself to stay composed, acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Gi-hun was deep in discussion, his voice low but firm as he laid out the next steps of his plan.

“We’ll need to test the guards’ response times,” Gi-hun said, glancing around the circle. “If we can figure out how quickly they react, we’ll know how much time we have to execute our plan.”

Hyun-ju nodded, her expression serious. “What about the rotations? Do they switch positions at specific intervals?”

“Good question,” Gi-hun replied, looking thoughtful. “We need to start paying attention to their movements. If we can predict when they change shifts, we can time our actions perfectly.”

You felt a twinge of unease at how perceptive Gi-hun was becoming. He was piecing things together faster than you had anticipated, and while that was useful for maintaining your cover, it also meant the group was becoming a real threat.

“I think they switch every couple of hours,” you said casually, injecting yourself into the conversation. “I’ve been keeping track, and it seems like they rotate pretty regularly. But we’ll need to confirm it before we make any moves.”

Gi-hun nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. “Good observation,” he said. “We’ll need to work together to keep an eye on them. If you notice anything else, let us know.”

“Of course,” you said, offering him a faint smile. “We’re all in this together, right?”

As the conversation continued, you leaned slightly toward Young-il, your voice dropping to a whisper. “Did you catch that?” you murmured, your tone barely audible.

He tilted his head slightly, pretending to stretch as he responded under his breath. “The replacement? Yeah. They’re moving fast. Looks like the message is already being delivered.”

“Good,” you whispered back. “But we need to be careful. Gi-hun’s sharper than he looks. If he starts connecting the dots—”

“He won’t,” Young-il interrupted smoothly, his voice calm. “Not with us pulling the strings. Just stick to the plan, jagiya.”

You nodded, forcing yourself to relax. Young-il was right everything was going according to plan so far. But the margin for error was razor-thin, and any slip-up could spell disaster for both of you.

The new guard stood silently at their post, their posture rigid and unyielding. To the untrained eye, they were just another faceless enforcer. But you knew better. This guard was no ordinary sentry. they were a carefully placed operative, ready to relay information back to the Front Man and ensure the rebellion was neutralized before it could truly begin.

As the group’s conversation continued to spiral into detailed strategy, you couldn’t help but feel a small surge of satisfaction. Gi-hun and his team were so focused on their plans that they hadn’t even noticed the subtle shift in the room’s dynamics.

Leaning back slightly, you cast a quick glance at Young-il. His eyes met yours briefly, and in that fleeting moment, you saw the same determination burning in his gaze. The pieces were in place, and the board was set. All that remained was for the game to unfold.

The conversation around the circle shifted, and for a moment, the group fell silent as they all turned toward Young-il. It was clear from their expressions that they were curious about the quiet man who had joined them. While he had blended into the background so far, his calm demeanor and sharp eyes hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Gi-hun leaned forward slightly, his gaze steady but inquisitive. “What do you think, Young-il?” he asked, his tone measured. “You’ve been pretty quiet so far, but we could use your perspective. Any thoughts on the plan?”

Young-il didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned back slightly, exuding an air of quiet confidence as he scanned the faces around him. His hands rested loosely on his lap, and he seemed completely unfazed by the sudden attention.

“Well,” he began slowly, his voice deep and deliberate, “you’ve got a decent outline. Timing the guards’ rotations, using distractions, and arming yourselves. it’s a good start. But there’s one thing you’re all overlooking.”

The group tensed, leaning in closer to hear what he had to say. Even you, knowing full well he was playing them, felt a flicker of anticipation.

“And what’s that?” Dae-ho asked, his brow furrowed.

Young-il’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Trust,” he said simply.

“Trust?” Gi-hun echoed, his tone skeptical.

“That’s right,” Young-il replied, his gaze sharp as it swept over the group. “You’re putting together a plan that relies on split-second timing, complete cooperation, and absolute loyalty from everyone involved. But how can you be sure everyone here is on the same page?”

The question hung in the air like a challenge, and you watched as the group exchanged uneasy glances. It was clear the thought hadn’t occurred to them before, and now doubt was beginning to creep into their minds.

Hyun-ju frowned, her arms crossing over her chest. “We’ve been working together this whole time,” she said defensively. “Why wouldn’t we trust each other?”

Young-il raised an eyebrow, his expression calm but pointed. “Because trust isn’t built overnight,” he said. “And in a situation like this, where the stakes are life and death, people will do whatever it takes to survive. even if it means betraying the person next to them.”

The tension in the group grew palpable, and you could almost feel the unease settling over them like a heavy blanket.

“But if we don’t trust each other, we’ll fail for sure,” Gi-hun said, his voice steady but strained. “What’s your suggestion, then? How do we build trust when we barely know each other?”

Young-il’s smile widened, though there was something almost predatory about it. “You can start by testing each other,” he said. “Small tasks, small risks. See who follows through and who hesitates. That way, when the time comes for the real plan, you’ll know exactly who you can count on.”

The group exchanged uncertain glances, clearly considering his words.

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” Dae-ho admitted grudgingly. “If someone can’t handle the small stuff, they’re not going to hold up when things get serious.”

Gi-hun nodded slowly, his gaze thoughtful. “Alright,” he said. “We’ll keep that in mind. But for now, let’s focus on getting the basics down. Young-il, do you think we’re missing anything else?”

Young-il glanced at you briefly, so quickly that no one else seemed to notice. Then he shrugged, his demeanor casual. “No, I think you’ve covered most of it,” he said. “Just don’t get overconfident. The guards aren’t stupid, and if even one thing goes wrong, they’ll shut this whole thing down before you can blink.”

His words carried a weight of authority that made the group sit up a little straighter, their expressions somber.

“Noted,” Gi-hun said, his tone firm. “Thanks for the input.”

As the group shifted their focus back to the finer details of their plan, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of admiration for Young-il’s performance. He had played his role perfectly, offering just enough useful advice to gain their trust while subtly planting seeds of doubt and mistrust among them.

Leaning slightly toward him under the guise of adjusting your position, you whispered, “Nicely done.”

He didn’t look at you, but the faint smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips was answer enough. “Always, jagiya,” he murmured, his voice so low that only you could hear.

The fluorescent bathroom lights hummed softly, the stark white tiles reflecting your shadowed figures. Pressed against the cool wall, you felt Young-il’s hands trailing along your arms, his touch both reassuring and electrifying. His lips lingered over yours, the warmth of his kiss making you forget, if only for a moment, the deadly games and the rebellion brewing outside these walls.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you slightly breathless, his dark eyes locked onto yours, filled with that sharp intellect and confidence you found so maddening and magnetic. He reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering as his expression turned serious.

“Jagiya,” he murmured, his voice low and deliberate, “listen to me carefully. Things are about to get chaotic, and we need to be ready.”

You nodded, already sensing that he was about to share a crucial piece of his plan. Young-il never spoke without purpose, and in this twisted game, every word carried weight.

“So, here’s what we’re going to do,” he began, his tone measured and calm. “When the rebellion starts and trust me, Gi-hun will make sure it does he’s going to rally as many players as he can. He’ll frame it as their last chance to take down the system, and some of them will be desperate enough to follow him.”

“Of course,” you murmured, leaning closer. “He’ll play the hero, and they’ll eat it up.”

Young-il smirked faintly, pleased by your quick understanding. “Exactly. He’s going to arm them with weapons stolen from the guards. Guns, knives whatever they can get their hands on. That’s where the chaos begins. Some of the players will refuse to join, and some will eagerly accept. But here’s the thing: Gi-hun is smart. He’s going to split the group into smaller teams to cover more ground and increase their chances of success.”

You frowned slightly, already anticipating the danger. “And you’re planning to join one of those teams?”

He nodded. “I’ll volunteer to go with Gi-hun himself or at least the most influential group. Once I’m with them, I’ll kill some guards strategically just enough to make it look like I’m committed to their cause but not too much to draw suspicion. It’ll keep Gi-hun and the others distracted, and they won’t see what’s coming until it’s too late.”

“And me?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.

A small, knowing smile played on his lips. “You’ll stay behind in the dormitory, jagiya. Act helpless, scared like you don’t know how to handle yourself in a fight. They’ll underestimate you and leave you there with the others who refuse to join the rebellion.”

You arched an eyebrow, your lips curving into a wry smile. “Helpless? Really? Have you met me?”

Young-il chuckled softly, leaning closer until his lips brushed against your ear. “I know you’re anything but helpless,” he murmured. “That’s exactly why you’ll pull it off so convincingly. We need to do this, jagiya.”

His confidence in you sent a thrill down your spine, and you nodded, letting him continue.

“Once the rebellion is crushed, I’ll send a guard for you,” he said, his tone firm and precise. “But here’s the catch: the players who stayed behind with you are going to resist. They’ll try to protect you, thinking the guards are coming to punish you for also helping plan the rebellion. It’s going to get messy, but that’s the point. I’ll send multiple guards to make it look serious, like you’re in real trouble. That way, it’s believable.”

“And the players?” you asked softly, already knowing the answer.

“They’ll be eliminated,” he said bluntly, his gaze unwavering. “By the time I get back to you, there won’t be anyone left to question what happened. And if Gi-hun or anyone else from the rebellion survives… they’ll regret ever trying to overthrow the system. We’ll make sure of that.”

You stared at him for a long moment, processing the intricacy of his plan. It was ruthless, calculated, and brilliant everything you’d come to expect from him.

“You’ve thought of everything,” you said quietly.

“I have to,” he replied, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb brushed against your skin. “This isn’t just about survival, jagiya. This is about making sure no one dares to challenge us again. They need to know what happens when you defy the system.”

You leaned into his touch, your lips curving into a faint smile. “And here I thought I was the cunning one in this marriage.”

His smirk widened as he leaned in to capture your lips in another kiss, this one slower, more deliberate. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“We’re a team,” he murmured. “Always have been, always will be.”

“Always,” you whispered back, the word carrying a weight of promise.

As the sound of footsteps approached outside, you both straightened, slipping back into your roles. To the outside world, you were just another pair of players trying to survive. But inside the bathroom, you were partners in crime, two masterminds orchestrating a plan that would change everything.

[457gf]

would absolutely love some creepy/manipulative inho/reader !!

all done ! i hope you enjoy. sorry if it's not really what you asked for, kinda crazy about him & had to make him an absolute creep.

link HERE !

[cosmictheo]

𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘 | hwang in-ho

( gif credits to @lalaray )

—summary: for some reason, player 001 seems to like you a little too much, way more than you think. amongst the chaos after the mingle game, he gets closer to you. —pairing: hwang in-ho/young-il/player 001 x female!reader —word count: 4.5k —warnings: bro has a lot of names, +18, smut !!! (minors dni), most definitely ooc!in-ho, descriptions of the reader having female genitalia, some porn with some plot, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, slight voyeurism? (a guard outside the bathroom listening all the tea💀), sub in-ho!!!, obsessive, possessive behavior, mentions of stalking, slight manipulation, in-ho being a slut for the reader, they want each others bodies so bad, panic attack, blood, killing, yk usual squid game stuff.

writer’s note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

The first thing you saw were Young-il's eyes, and then you sensed his hands resting on your shoulders, a subtle touch but one that struck your entire core, sending shivers up and down your spine, snapping you out of the trance of shock, drawing you back to reality and back to him.

“Hey, hey, shhh...” he spoke softly, leaning close to you, making all you focused on was him, his voice, his eyes, the way his lips uttered your name. Him, him, him...

“Young-il?” you breathed out, matching your respiration to his ever-calm one.

He nodded his head slightly, his fingers stroking your shoulders soothingly. “You're okay. You did so good. It's over now” his soft whispers felt like an anchor back to earth, anchors you were clinging to with all your might.

“I got you” he assured you, helping you to your feet again. It was only then that you noticed that you were still in the room set of the third game, there was only you and him left in the arena, and the multitude of bodies sprawled around the bloodstained floor, of course. Noticing your gaze drift to the dead people, his hand lifted to your chin, standing right in front of you to block your field of vision and reduce it to just him, his serene face and piercing eyes, “Just look at me, angel. Keep those pretty eyes on me, yeah?”

He delicately pleaded you, his thumb tracing patterns of grazing caresses on the skin of your chin, treating you as carefully as possible. 

And you complied, of course, succumbing to the gentle darkness contained within his eyes. Like a little lamb falling into the wolf's trap.

“There you are,” a little, honest smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

A couple of guards were standing near you, watching you in silence and strangely, allowing Young-il to comfort and help you during your panic attack. The first one you had since you had arrived in the horrifying place, you hadn't cracked once, holding a tough and fearless armor.

“You are safe with me. Nothing will happen to you,” his other hand moved down from your shoulder through your arm, igniting a warm flush on your skin under the passage of his palm, all the way down to encounter yours, his fingers intertwining between yours. “I'll make sure of that, okay?”

You merely manage a trembling nod, holding his gaze. His reassuring, gentle demeanor was all you needed at that moment, in that strange place, full of strangers, he seemed to be the only familiar sight to you, the light among all the ruthless darkness. And his face, exuding concern, completely captured your heart.

Young-il offered you that one protector figure you always needed, that someone to rely on and trust even in your darkest moments.

“Come with me, please” one of the guards, the one with a square outlined on his mask, interrupted your moment, stepping up beside you, his gun pointed at the ground and not at either of you, thank goodness. His voice held a diplomatic, yet polite tone, glancing at the two of you. Young-il glanced at him with a scowl on his face, not too happy that the guard had popped onto the scene, apparently, his gaze went ice cold in the span of a millisecond, “Sir, miss, you need to go back to the main room with the other players.”

“The lady needs to freshen up a bit, could I accompany her to the bathrooms?” Young-il asked— no, rather, he actually demanded of the armed guard, his demeanor shifting to an authoritative one, straightening up and looking at the masked man with imposing eyes.

The guard looked from Young-il to you and back to him, finally nodding his head just once after a few seconds of contemplation, looking at him too long, nearly as if he was considering Young-il's expression, “Of course. Come with me, please.”

You did not decide to comment on the strange behavior of the guard, even they had been acting like human beings, empathetic and considerate. You really couldn't think of anything much at all, all you could focus on was Young-il's hand placed on your lower back as you walked together through the winding, ridiculously colorful corridors and staircases inside the seemingly infinite building.

His touch had your mind a fuzzy blur and the panic and self-doubt in your veins had already been well forgotten, replaced by a state of constant flushing, feeling so small next to him. The feeling was a good one, though. Definitely.

Ever since you had met him he had seemed to have a special liking for you, always making sure you were safe and secure, putting you above the others, making you feel protected and seen. Before every game he made sure he stayed by your side, willing to take whatever risks were necessary for both of you to come out of it alive. Gi-hun had told you a couple of times that he liked you, much more than a friend, but you refused, huffing that it wasn't the place to think about that, much less regarding a man who was married, supposedly. The two of you had really bonded so well, as if you had somehow known each other for a very long time before this.

Once you were in the bathrooms, Young-il closed the door behind both of you, leaving the square guard just outside, and then guided you towards the sinks, opening one so you could take a sip of water.

“Let me...” he quietly whispered, rolling up the sleeves of his turquoise tracksuit and soaking his hands for a few seconds before raising them to your face, running his fingers gently across your cheekbones, removing traces of blood droplets that had been lucky enough to land on your skin, he thought to himself. For some reason, everything felt more intimate than it should have.

You stood in silence, watching him with big, attentive eyes as he wiped your face delicately, as if your skin were the finest porcelain. All that could be heard for a few moments was the water running from the sink and the thundering beat of your heart, desperate to flee out of your chest and leap into his.

“Young-il?”

“Hm?” he hummed, very much focused on cleaning your face, his countenance encouraged you to ask him anything you wanted, it was peaceful and gentle.

“Why do you care so much about me?” you dared to ask him, in a low tone, brave enough to hold his gaze, which softened at your question.

He held back his hands, pulling them away from your face very slowly, analyzing your flushed face for a few moments, contemplating an answer.

“You're special. Very different from the others.”

Young-il sympathized with you, with your history, your person. Usually when he looked at you, he saw his old self, from before all this. He saw in you the good side of things, your good heart, your innocence and kindness, you were much more than a pretty face. He could see past your usual gloomy and pouty face, past your sharp and too cunning eyes, you were too much for that place. And that's why he intended to take you out of there and keep you with him, to have you by his side to care for you and provide for you.

He was excited about the idea of getting to know you further, like a new game in which he had to crack his way through. And In-ho, he was good at games.

You blushed slightly, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, “Special?”

Young-il spun around, allowing you to see his side profile as he washed his hands in the sink, concealing the impulse to smirk as he noticed the immediate effect his words had on you. He had you right where he wanted you. 

Now he wasn't wearing his usual dark mask, capable of covering his each and every emotion, no, now his expressions and gestures were for everyone to see, so he had to try a little harder than usual to be cautious. As you too were very careful and cautious, always attentive to your surroundings, you had figured out the objective of the last games as soon as you arrived at the arenas. It had been a record, no other player had been as interesting and quick-witted as you. You only needed a couple of minutes, a scan through the walls, the equipment brought by the guards, and you already had the answer. You were a prodigy. Not even he knew what you were doing in there to begin with, when you should have been in the best university.

You would definitely be a favorite of the filthy V.I.P.'s and that, for some reason, made him uneasy.

“Mhm...” he hummed once again, wetting his face now, refreshing himself as well, thoughtfully, “That makes you dangerous.”

His eyes held a slight playfulness as they met yours now, and his pupils expanded as he watched you step closer to him, unwrapping your sweatshirt from around your waist and lifting it up to his face, gently wiping and drying his skin with it, running the cloth carefully over his cheekbones, forehead and chin, drying every drop of water, sweat and blood that rolled across his skin.

“Why?” you tilted your head, big, interested eyes watching him intently as you carefully wiped his cheeks.

Young-il gazed at you for a few seconds, feeling himself swooning at the careful way you were treating him. He cleared his voice subtly before replying to you, in all honesty, “You're the only one I care about in here.”

Usually In-ho encountered with people who looked at him with fear, with trembling hands, hesitant voice and submissive manners. Most guards were like that with him, he was the Front Man after all. Just a movement of his fingers, a word emitted by his voice, was enough for the whole building to move at his command, for anyone to race to do what he ordered.

But you... you simply reached out to him, touched him, treated him with care, with gentleness and softness, looking at him with warm and sympathetic eyes.

“No other person makes me feel both weak and strong” he rasped out, quietly, his warm breath brushing against your lips, which gaped at his words, his choice of words, “That's dangerous for a man like me”

You motioned to pull your hand away from his face, but he was quick to grab your wrist, stopping the movement.

“Young-il, you're married, I can't—” you hurriedly opted to go the right way, trying to talk some sense into him, shaking your head softly, blinking several times within a single minute. Your heart was already starting to beat faster and he could feel it through his thumb placed on your pulse.

He shook his head, seeking your gaze, his fingers gently squeezing your wrist, not wanting you to move too far away from him.

“I'm not married. I lied” he revealed to you, almost desperately. There was no reason for him to lie to you on that, because he knew that you were someone he could trust, and that everything that was going to happen there, would remain within those walls. A little complicity. A minor crack in the script, in the whole scheme that he had been working on for weeks.

You let him grab your wrist and the jacket of the tracksuit you had previously held in your hand fell to the floor, making a muffled noise that echoed off the quiet walls of the bathrooms. Your brow furrowed slightly, not understanding what he was talking about now.

“You lied? Why?” you asked in a low tone, as if anyone could hear you. It seemed, at least it felt like too private and all too intimate a conversation for anyone to overhear.

“I didn't want to push you away and scare you with my... life resolutions” Young-il lowered your hand now joined with his, looking at you with brighter eyes than usual, “It was the wiser thing to do.”

“Resolutions?” all you appeared to be doing was asking and asking, and In-ho, right there and then, was willing to answer all you wanted to know. Your tone of voice drifted into playfulness, void of judgment or disgust, on the contrary, you reassured him, “All of us here have made bad choices in our lives, that's why we're here. We're all the villains of society”

“Villains...” he repeated, savoring the word and approving it with a gentle nod of his head. Then he tugged on your hand, lifting it to his face, placing an affectionate kiss on your knuckles, doing all of that while keeping eye contact, “But you're not bad, not like them, not like me. You're just so good, angel.” There was the petname again, and it held the exact same effect as when he first called you that, making you blush softly, your legs trembling just barely, your core reacting instantly, your body succumbing to his, longing for him.

His fingers caressed the palm of your hand tenderly, “You have no blood on your pretty hands, no perversity in your little head, no, you're a good girl. You always have been, right?”

He read you like an open book, even though you had been cautious and reserved since the games had begun, you had not let anyone in, much less pass over the walls you had built around yourself. Yet in the span of a few minutes, Young-il had ripped them apart, tearing his way through them, into you.

You caught a glimpse of pity in his eyes.

“You don't have a debt, you just don't have anyone out there waiting for you, to take care of you, provide for you” At his words, you gulped, watching him kiss your knuckles once again, making your heart race, then his lips kissed your pulse on your wrist, and after that, he tugged you closer, placing your palm against his chest, making you feel the beat of his heart as well, “I could be the one. I could take care of you, protect you, give you everything you want. There wouldn't be anything I wouldn't do for you and those eyes. You'd just have to stick by my side, look pretty for me, hm?”

In-ho had been watching you, of course, ever since you had met Gon Ji-cheol in the subway, ever since you had encountered Gi-hun. He knew your life completely, he had grown obsessed with you. You were everything he needed, everything he wanted, the missing piece in his new life. The anchor he desperately needed, yearned to hold on to.

And to your flesh he clung, his lips making a path of light, but tentative kisses on the back of your hand, across your skin, up your arm.

“Young-il...” you breathed out his name a bit stunned by the whole sudden confession. At the sound, he felt his limbs tremble, his lips had reached your bicep and it wasn't until he kissed your shoulder that he opened his eyes so he could look at you with raw adoration, his breath joining yours at the closeness.

“I'll get you out of here, safe and sound. I won't let them touch a hair on your head” he promised, reassuring you, pulling you in, inviting you to slip into his orbit, “I just need you to trust me”

Your eyelashes grazed your cheeks as you blinked slowly, your hand rising to his shoulder, thumb brushing his neck, “How will you do that?”

“Trust me” he pleaded, staring at you for a few seconds before leaning down into you, both of his hands landing on your waist, holding you against him, his face nestled into your neck, he began to press his lips into your skin, kissing it. You close your eyes in utter pleasure, feeling yourself getting all aroused, suffocated by all the attention, the sweet words, his desire for you. 

“Would you do that for me?” he rasped out against your skin before kissing it, sucking lightly, “...hm?”

You nodded, swallowing hard, his lips rapidly kissing your throat, and suddenly, everything was him, his mouth, his breath, his hands squeezing your waist. Him... 

You lifted your chin, allowing him more access to the soft flesh of your neck, seductive lips exploring every inch of your skin.

“Yes”

“That's my girl” he cooed with tenderness, kissing your neck one last time before pulling away from it so he could look at you, not even letting you breathe the air that had slipped out of your lungs for the entirety of his doing, before he was kissing your lips like a starving man.

He breathed against your lips in between frantic open-mouth kisses. He almost felt himself melt as his ears were blessed by the delightful little noises leaking out of your mouth, panting and low moans escalating up your throat.

“Young-il…” you whispered his name, your voice sheepishly lowering as you noticed the look in his eyes, your hands clasped around his neck, fingers trembling from the thrill and sudden shame that shook you.

“Jump” he said, his tone of voice heavy with command, his hands reaching around your waist and down onto your ass to lift you up effortlessly onto the side of the sinks, balancing himself tight against you in between your legs, which wrapped around his hips and pressed him further into you, under an instinctive impulse.

You panted against his lips as you felt his erection against the inside of your thigh, his body eagerly surrendering to yours in desperation.

His commanding voice and face were something that really turned you on even more, if that was even possible. It wasn't usual for him to be this stern with you, he was usually like that with the other players, with strangers, always cautious, quiet and tactful, meticulous of his every step and every word.

“W-wait— we're going to fuck in h-here?” you somehow managed to asked in between frantic, breathless kisses, barely opening your eyes, catching him with an expression of raw lust, pupils fully dilated now.

Young-il smirked playfully, allowing you to catch your breath for a moment, hands caressing your skin appreciatively beneath the fabric of your shirt, before dropping down and laying on either side of you against the sinks, veins bulging against his skin, “You want to do it in the other room? I don't mind having an audience.”

His little tease and the way he tilted his head made you blush furiously, fingers nuzzling the back of his neck, curling between locks of his hair.

“The guard will hear us...” you tried to talk some sense into him, whispering quietly to him, leaning your head even closer, as if you were little kids sharing a forbidden secret.

But Young-il stood his ground, kissing your lips shortly, to reassure you, noticing the worry in your big eyes, “Don't worry about him, don't worry about anyone,” his hand snaked between your bodies, spreading your legs a little further apart, “He won't hear a thing, they never hear or see anything. Not if they are ordered not to”

One of his hands reached up, stroking your hair soothingly, sensing the softness of your locks between his fingers. You were perfect, perfect. And he just knew he could lose all track of time, if it meant letting himself fall into you, touching you, feeling you, worshipping you.

"Lift your hips for me, yeah?”

Obedient, you lifted your hips just a little, letting him pull the hem of your tracksuit pants down your legs, taking it out of the way of obstructing his path into you.

“I know you want this as much as I do, you don't have to say it,” he cheekily smiled, looking up at you once he had lowered your pants down until they were at the level of your ankles. On his journey upwards, he kissed the side of your leg, your knees and your thighs without taking his eyes off yours, he was ruthless and you looked so pretty to him.

“Your body speaks to me, it has spoken to me since the first game. I've noticed the way you look at me. You are a naughty girl.”

You heaved a sigh, closing your eyes and pulling your head back as his hand dipped into the center in between your legs, feeling the wetness of your panties and the heat, your cunt pulsing around nothing. Your hands, now on either side of you clasped onto the ceramics of the sinks, your back arching beautifully.

You can't help the way your body trembles, flutters and simply submits when his finger rubs your swollen clit through your panties, feeling your face and your whole body flush, feeling a sudden wave of embarrassment at the magnitude of his words and the enormity of all that was happening.

“Look at you,” he cooed, eyes locked on your pussy once he had pulled down your panties with precise but desperate motions, ran his index and middle fingers through your slick folds, making you moan, “you're soaking wet for me, just for my kisses? Fuck, you are so beautiful. My pretty, dirty girl. Letting herself be touched by a stranger.... but then again, not a stranger at all, hm?” his voice almost sounded mocking when it reached your ears, “I need to taste you,” his gaze moved up to your face, and he looked nearly pleading, he licked his lips in anticipation, fingers sinking just barely into the small entrance of your core, “may I?”

“Please—” You at once nodded feverishly, almost whimpering over the words that rushed into your throat, “Yes! Please, Young-il, please—”

He dropped to his knees in front of you, slouching closer, sinking right between your legs, his hands lingered around your knees, squeezing them against him with a possessive hold.

“In-ho” he corrected you, flushed against the skin of your inner thigh, pressing kisses along it, all too drunk already by your intoxicating scent, his mind going fuzzy with desire, the urge to make you his, “Call me In-ho”

You didn't even pause to doubt what he was telling you, Hell, you'd call him God if he asked you to. You were in the palm of his hand, on full display. His lips kissed your sex and you mentally thanked fate for putting you there, with him.

“Say it” he ordered, just before he plunged his tongue deep between your folds, knocking all the little breath left in your lungs. “Say my name, angel” the vibration of his voice against the most sensitive flesh of your body clenched the knot deep in the bottom of your belly.

“In-ho” you named him between shaky whimpers and little moans, like a prayer. One of your hands dropped to his head, fingers sinking into the black of his hair, tugging it and making him hiss against your cunt. “In-ho...”

In-ho, In-ho, In-ho...

“Good girl”

God.

He ate your pussy like it was his very last meal, lapping and drinking in everything you had to offer, every bit of wetness from you. The slurping noise burst through every wall of the bathrooms and suddenly, you didn't give a shit if the guard outside heard you, you didn't give a shit if all the guards heard you. 

They could be right there watching you, you couldn't care less, it wouldn't change the way you tugged at his hair, how your eyes rolled back and the way he was gazing up at you from below, kneeling perfectly between your legs as if they were the gates to heaven.

His tongue seemed familiar, his fingers squeezing your thighs, his eyes locked with yours, his lips kissing your sex with no breath, all the breath he needed was you. He didn't feel like a stranger, your body acquainted him, perhaps in another life. It all felt like deja vu, a reminiscence.

Your muscles tensed and he felt it through his tongue. You were about to cum, and your throat felt scratchy from all the moans and whimpers rasping through it.

“Gonna cum, baby?” he coaxed, pulling away from your cunt for just a couple of seconds, sneaking a hand in and pressing just barely at your entrance with a couple of fingers, kissing your clit and sucking it just right, “Yes you are,” he grumbled endearingly, his tongue tracing caresses all around your clit now, looking up at you.

“You're so tight” he marveled, watching in awe as your cunt eagerly attempted to suck in his fingertips, clenching and struggling to fit them. “Look at her, so eager... such a good girl, aren't you?” Once again he leaned into your clit, kissing, sucking and caressing it with his tongue, already too pussy drunk to stop. “Cum for me. Cum on my tongue, yeah, just like that”

“Holy shit, In-ho—” you hiccupped, feeling tears blur your vision, a wave of pleasure unleashing from deep in your belly. You moaned his name like a prayer, pressing his head closer to your cunt on an instinctive impulse, “Mmph!”

Maybe it was seeing his chin and mouth all dripping wet of you, or his dark, deep eyes marveling at how your pussy squeezed tight around his fingers, or his other hand sliding up under your shirt, finding one of your breasts and flicking your nipple. Maybe it was all of it, either way, you were cumming like you had never cum before. Your whole body was shaking and succumbing to the overstimulation. Succumbing to him.

In-ho gulped down everything you gave him like magic waters.

“You taste better than I imagined,” he confided, licking his index and middle finger as well, catching every trace there was of you that he could possibly consume as if it were honey.

Then, he kissed your pussy once more before standing up, sending shockwaves of electricity through your whole body with his touch, his hands settled on your hips, holding you so you wouldn't fall.

And he just smirked. He moved closer to you and kissed your mouth, making you savor your own taste through him, his hands appreciatively caressing your thighs, swiftly pulling up your panties back on.

“You're perfect, perfect,” he smoothed against your lips, his forehead leaning close to yours and he kissed you again, praising you, holding you tight in the afterglow of your orgasm, “My girl, my favorite girl, so good for me"

“We need to get back before someone starts to get suspicious,” he mumbled softly, helping you to your feet and pulling up your pants, always holding you with his hands and strong arms.

“B-but,” you retorted, your hands gripping his shoulders, still feeling your legs a little wobbly and unsteady, your dilated pupils and half-closed eyes following him as he arranged you, “I want to-”

He interrupted you, grinning warmly, stroking a lock of your hair away from your forehead before kissing your lips once more, as if closing a deal, a promise, “There will be time. Be patient, princess. We don't want the others to find out about my favoritism, do we?” seeing you still looking a bit confused, and still denying with your head, In-ho smiled playfully, “That would be very unprofessional of me, so this will be our secret”

This time you kissed him, sealing the secret.

[catchastarorten]

—License and registration, please.

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

Summary: Did you pass the speed limit? No. Did Jun-ho pull you over anyways to steal a few moments (and kisses) with you? Yes.

Content: fluff, shared kisses, a girl flirting with him but Jun-ho being very loyal, English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, not proofread, sorry!

Word count: ~ 1.1k

The air was cool that afternoon, sunlight glinting off the windshields of passing cars. Traffic duty wasn’t exactly glamorous, but it was steady, and after everything Jun-ho had endured chasing shadows and secrets, it wasn’t so bad. He didn’t mind the transfer. It gave him time to breathe. To be with you.

A motorcycle driving into sight caught his eyes, bringing him out of his thoughts. A man carrying a girl on the back, helmet-less.

Jun-ho approached the two as the motorcycle came to a stop, his partner—a younger, less experienced officer trailed after him.

“You’re not wearing a helmet. Your license, please.” he took out a small tablet as the man cursed, eyes full of impatience and annoyance.

“Isn’t this entrapment? Hiding to catch people is shady. You want to squeeze money out of broke citizens?” the man scoffed.

“Your license, please.” Jun-ho ignored him and extended a hand out, waiting.

The man handed over his license begrudgingly as the girl sitting behind him on the motorcycle hopped down, giving the man a reassuring pat as if saying, “I’ve got this,” before coming closer to Jun-ho.

“Look, can’t you just let us go? I’m wearing one.” she gestured to her own helmet, giving it a steady pat.

“No, ma’am.”

The girl frowned, but took a second look at him and her eyes sparkled, peering at him. “Hey, you’re really handsome!” her voice tuned into a higher pitch at her excitement, as if she found some treasure.

“I could charge you with obstruction.” Jun-ho said dryly, checking the information on the small tablet in his hand.

“You’re a tough cookie,” the girl smiled wider, taking out her phone. She snapped a few pictures, striking different poses as Jun-ho tried to avoid the camera, his head ducked low as he scanned over the information shown on the tablet. The man on the motorcycle narrowed his eyes at the sight.

As the ticket printed out from a machine strapped to Jun-ho’s vest, the girl patted his shoulder. “Come on, get in here!” she leaned closer, but he stepped away to maintain a good distance, before walking over to the man.

Jun-ho handed the ticket to the guy. “The fine for not wearing a helmet is 20,000 won. Pay it on time.”

The man snatched the ticket away as the girl continued fawning.

“What’s your number? Are you single?” she squealed.

Jun-ho blinked, momentarily taken aback, before he smirked softly and raised his hand, the band on his finger glinting in the sunlight. “Happily married,” he said simply, his voice warm.

The girl’s excitement evaporated, replaced by a pout. “Seriously? Who’s the lucky woman?”

Jun-ho didn’t answer, instead he walked back to the squad car.

The man drove off on his motorcycle, a bitterness clinging onto him. The girl was startled and chased after the guy, shouting and exclaiming and throwing her helmet at him but missing while trying to catch up, her loud curses disappearing into the distance along with the motorcycle.

Jun-ho watched the scene unfold with an amused smile, shaking his head before getting back into the squad car. His rookie partner shot him a bewildered look. “Does that happen to you a lot?”

“More than you’d think. Just ignore them,” Jun-ho replied, settling back into his seat, looking down at the band on his ring finger as his eyes softened, already missing you.

They were driving back toward their usual patrol route when Jun-ho caught sight of a familiar car in the distance. It was yours, the unmistakable silhouette of the vehicle and the way it handled the road bringing an instant smile to his face.

“Pulling over for a second,” he told his rookie partner.

“What? Why?”

Without explanation, Jun-ho sped up slightly, falling into step behind your car before flicking on the lights. You weren’t speeding—you rarely did—but you pulled your car to the side of the road obediently anyway, your indicator blinking calmly, putting the car in park.

Jun-ho stepped out of the patrol car, smoothing his uniform. His partner stayed inside, fiddling with the radio.

He walked up to your window, tapping lightly on the glass, then gestured for you to roll it down. When you turned to look at him, he saw the way your eyes flickered in recognition and affectionate annoyance. He could already feel his heart melting.

You raised an eyebrow, playing along as you pressed the button and lowered the window.

“Officer,” you said, your voice laced with playful suspicion. “What’s the problem?”

Jun-ho leaned against the frame, speaking in a serious way, though the corners of his mouth twitched. “License and registration, please.”

You scoffed. “I wasn’t speeding. You know I wasn’t speeding.”

“You were driving suspiciously… within the speed limit,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Very suspicious.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Am I really getting a ticket for obeying the law?”

“Yes,” he said, dipping his head closer, his voice dropping to a soft murmur. “But you can pay in kisses.”

Before you could respond, he leaned in through the open window, his lips brushing yours in a tender, stolen kiss. It was soft, warm, and lingering—the kind of kiss that reminded you just how much he adored you. When he pulled back, he waited for just a moment before stealing another kiss. And then another.

“Jun-ho,” you mumbled, your voice half-scolding but mostly filled with affection.

“One more,” he murmured, his hand resting lightly on the edge of the window.

You gave in, letting him kiss you again.

“That’ll cover it,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement as he pulled back, his eyes lingering on yours.

Just as he straightened, the passenger door of the squad car opened, and his rookie partner stepped out, looking thoroughly confused. “Uh… everything okay?”

Jun-ho let out a sigh, his expression shifting back to something more professional, though you could still see the softness in his eyes when he glanced at you. “Everything’s fine,” he said. “I’ll be there in a minute, go wait in the car.”

The officer hesitated but nodded, retreating back to the patrol car, leaving the two of you alone again.

“Guess that’s my cue,” Jun-ho said, his voice softening as he looked at you.

You smiled warmly. “I’ll see you at home.”

“I’ll be there,” he promised. “Sharp.”

With one last lingering look, Jun-ho stepped back, letting you drive off. He stood there for a moment, watching your car disappear down the road, his heart full.

As he returned to the squad car, his rookie partner gave him a questioning look, but Jun-ho didn’t offer an explanation. Some things were just for him to cherish.

[saymio]

In Ho headcanons | (NSFW)

Pairing: Hwang In-ho (player 001/the front man) x Fem!reader

Genre: headcanons, smut

Warning: dead dove do not eat, manipulation, dub/noncon, age gap, might be more but im too lazy to write it down

A/N: not proof read. thanos story in the works rn!! I have writers block so to help a little I'm making some hcs 4 this baddie (prob ooc)

hwang inho, the man that protected you from Thanos and his stupid friend during the first day of the games. he shoo'ed them away. stopping their harassment and took you with him with the rest of the group

hwang inho, the man that gives you his milk. reassuring you every time that its okay for you to have it, and it'll help you get stronger.

hwang inho, the man that checks up on you throughout the night. standing over you to make sure you're getting your nights rests. making sure no creeps try touching your delicate skin.

hwang inho, the man that lets touches linger a little longer than they should, whether its on your hands, thighs, waist..his touches feel more than platonic

hwang inho, the man that tells the guards to make sure you stay safe, to kill a player that hasn't broken the rules if they had to. anything to make sure you stay safe.

hwang inho, the man that would excuse himself to the bathroom just to touch himself to the thought of you. whether its your calm voice or plush hands that feel so soft and delicate...he just couldn't help it.

hwang inho, the man that squeezes your thighs when no ones looking...and when you express discomfort he used his past generosity as an excuse for it.

hwang inho, the man that will kiss you in the middle of the night with no warning. telling you to be quiet and take the kiss because if it were any other man it would've been worse.

hwang inho, the man that will find the perfect timing to sneak away from everyone else with you. he'll make you strip for him in the bathroom. savoring every inch of your body before he sends you away, leaving him in there alone to masturbate.

hwang inho, the man that wont let you sleep. he'll grope and squeeze your thighs, tits and ass. feeling you up while you hold in tears.

hwang inho, the man that reminds you this is your fault when you cry to him during a bathroom strip session. expressing how uncomfortable this makes you and how you don't want it anymore.

hwang inho, the man that will tell you nothing in the world is free. and your body will be the payment he receives for being so generous with you.

hwang inho, the man that gets hard thinking about your age gap. how youre only 19 and he's in his 40's..he loves it.

hwang inho, the man that slips his fingers inside of you when the lights are off, fingering you aggressively. reminding you once again that it'd be so much worse if he wasn't such a nice man.

hwang inho, the man that captures you during the raid against the guards. forcing you to stare into the eyes of your past friends as he kills them.

hwang inho, the man that keeps you as his pet after the games end. reminding you you're lucky because he spoils you with money.

hwang inho, the man that doesn't let you socialize with anyone after he's gotten his grip on you.

Another not: this one is pretty short compared to my last fic, this was to just try n get me out of writers block. expect a Thanos fic to pop up tmr. sorry if this sucked/was ooc, I tried my best T T~~

[greengoblinswifey]

Little Do You Know—Player 001/Hwang In Ho x Fem!Reader

summary—after making a passing remark on the possibility of the front man being attractive, your crush on young-il who unbeknownst to you is the front man, boils over. based on this request.

warnings— flirting, oral(f&m receiving), praising, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie.

The group sat gathered around with a small meal, the kind of makeshift dinner that felt comforting despite the bleak circumstances. Gi-hun leaned back, his arms crossed, recounting some story about the Front Man. “I’m telling you, he has cameras everywhere. He probably sees and hears everything we’re saying.”

The mood was tense, as it often was when the Front Man became the topic of conversation. But your lips twitched upward, a thought making you suppress a giggle.

Dae-ho, ever the curious one, caught it immediately. “What’s so funny?” he asked, narrowing his eyes in your direction.

You waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, nothing. It’s silly. Forget it.”

Young-il, sitting across from you, tilted his head slightly, his expression soft. “Come on,” he said gently, his voice soothing in a way that made you feel oddly safe. “Anything you have to say, we’ll appreciate. Don’t hold back.”

Encouraged by his tone, you hesitated for just a moment before shrugging. “Alright, but don’t judge me.” You exhaled a breathy laugh, looking down at your lap for a second before glancing back up. “What if the Front Man is, like—really hot?”

The reaction was instant. Dae-ho choked on his milk, sputtering, while Jun-Hee’s eyes widened slightly before she went back to eating as if she hadn’t heard you. Even Jung-Bae, usually laid back, looked at you like you’d just grown a second head.

“Seriously?” Gi-hun said, shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s what you’re concerned about?”

“What?” you asked defensively, your shoulders lifting in mock innocence. “I’m just saying. It’s possible!”

Gi-hun groaned, covering his face with his hands. “We’re talking about a guy who might be orchestrating all this madness, and you’re worried if he’s good-looking?”

Before you could respond, your eyes flicked to Young-il. Everyone else was either laughing awkwardly or shaking their heads, but Young-il wasn’t saying a word. Instead, a subtle smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, almost imperceptible to anyone else. Almost.

Your gaze stayed on him for a moment, your brow quirking as you tilted your head slightly in return, a silent question hanging between the two of you. His smirk deepened just enough for you to catch the meaning, amusement, maybe even intrigue, but he quickly smoothed his expression before anyone else noticed. He was hot too, you thought.

Gi-hun, still shaking his head, muttered, “Out of everything you could be thinking about.”

“Well, excuse me for lightening the mood,” you shot back playfully, rolling your eyes. “It’s not like I said I wanted to marry him or something. Geez.”

As the group moved on, you couldn’t help but replay the moment in your head. Maybe you were overthinking it, but wasn’t Young-il’s smirk a little too knowing? Or maybe it was just your ridiculous crush on him twisting your perception. You’d never admit it out loud, but you found yourself drawn to his quiet confidence, the calm authority he exuded even in casual moments like this.

It was ironic, really, here you were crushing on Young-il while joking about the Front Man. Little did you know, the very man you were teasing about might as well have been sitting right in front of you, wearing the mask in plain sight.

You shook the thought off with a small laugh. Overthinking, as usual. Still, when Young-il glanced your way again, his gaze warm and unreadable, you couldn’t stop your stomach from fluttering.

The night had settled into a familiar stillness, broken only by the occasional shuffle of someone shifting in their sleep. You couldn’t sleep, your earlier exchange with Young-il replaying in your mind. That smirk, so brief, had lodged itself in your thoughts.

You were still awake when he appeared, his footsteps quiet as he approached where you lay, tucked into a dim corner of the quarters. He didn’t say anything at first, just crouched down beside you, his dark eyes searching yours.

“Can’t sleep either?” he asked softly.

“Guess not,” you replied.

He tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Still thinking about the Front Man being hot?”

“I didn’t mean to make it weird,” you said laughing and flustered.

“You didn’t,” he assured you. “But if I didn’t know better, I’d say you might have a type.”

Your cheeks warmed under his words, and you rolled your eyes, trying to deflect. “Oh, come on. I was joking.”

“Were you?” he teased, his smile widening just a bit.

You were about to retort, but something in his expression stopped you. His hand, warm and steady, brushed against your cheek, lingering for just a moment before he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“You know,” he said, his tone teasing, “if you wanted to get something off your chest, now’s the time.”

Your breath hitched. “What are you trying to say, Young-il?”

“Just that I’m here,” he replied, “If there’s something you want.”

His words sent a jolt through you, and before you could second guess yourself, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his. The kiss started slow, testing the waters, but quickly deepened as his hand came up to cradle your face.

The thought of the games seemed to fall away as you lost yourself in the way his lips moved against yours. His hands were firm but gentle, holding your face as the kiss turned hungrier, more insistent. His fingers found their way into your hair, tugging slightly, drawing a low moan from him that you quickly stifled.

“Quiet,” he murmured against your lips, a teasing smirk playing on his face as his thumb brushed over your cheek. “We wouldn’t want to wake anyone, would we?”

Your heart raced as his lips moved to your neck, his hands on your waist as he guided you back against the small bed. He trailed kisses down your chest, his kisses slow and savoring every moment.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

A soft gasp escaped your lips as his kisses grew bolder, trailing lower. He pulled off your bottoms and your lace panties, tongue licking from your hole to your clit. The way he did it so suddenly, so smoothly, made your pussy throb. You instinctively bit down on your lip, your hands fisting the fabric beneath you as you fought to keep your composure.

“Relax,” he whispered. “Let me taste you.”

His hands slid down your thighs, spreading them open as he adjusted your position. He glanced up at you, his dark eyes meeting yours with a glimmer of mischief and tenderness. You pressed your lips together tightly, his skilled tongue flicking your clit then moving to your leaking hole.

“Don’t hold back too much,” he murmured, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “I want to hear those pretty moans, just a little.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, his tone leaving you breathless. You felt the warmth of his fingertips on your thighs and the tenderness of his kisses on your pussy, and his praises were a quiet balm to the storm of emotions swirling inside you because of the game.

“You taste so fucking good,” he whispered. “You’re perfect.”

Your fingers gripped his shoulders as he continued ravishing your pussy, mouth engulfing you and sucking as though the meal from earlier wasn’t enough. He was attentive to your pleasure, fingers pumping steadily inside your pussy as sucked and flicked your clit with precision. The precision you expected and appreciated in an older man. No one had ever made you feel this good. The pleasure was otherworldly and your legs shook from it all.

The coil in your abdomen and euphoria built with every passing second and you had to clamp a hand over your mouth to keep quiet. His words and actions blurred together, creating a warmth that left you trembling. When his tongue brought you to your peak, you bit down on your lip to stifle a cry, your entire body shuddering as he pressed a soft kiss to your clit.

“You did amazing,” he said softly, his lips brushing against your ear as he leaned closer.

You gently nudged Young-il to lie back, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “My turn,” you murmured, your fingers grazing the waistband of his bottoms.

He raised an eyebrow, a chuckle escaping him, but there was no mistaking the lust in his gaze. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” you interrupted softly.

Slowly, you slid his bottoms down, taking in the sight of his, long, thick cock with a mixture of nervousness and determination. He was big, but you could take him. His sharp inhale was audible as your lips wrapped around the head, his hand instinctively brushing against your cheek as you went down.

“You’re too good to me,” he whispered, his voice low and tinged with awe.

Your fingers wrapped around his girth, careful and deliberate, and you began to stroke as you sucked with a rhythm that earned a quiet moan from him. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, but you focused, letting his quiet praises guide you.

“Just like that,” he murmured, his fingers threading in your curls. “You’re doing so well.”

You glanced up at him, mouth full, eyes watering and saliva mixed with pre cum dripping down your chin. Your cheeks warmed from his words and the darkness of his gaze. The way he looked at you like you were the most beautiful little thing in the world as you took him down your throat made your heart race. You bobbed your head faster, using as much tongue as you could on his thick shaft, your actions conveying what words couldn’t.

The effect was immediate. His head fell back against the pillow, a low moan escaping him as his free hand gripped the fabric beneath him.

“God, you’re incredible,” he said, his voice rough. “That pretty face of yours, how will I last?”

You couldn’t help but smile with his cock buried in your throat, your movements continued, now slower and purposeful as you went up and down. His breathing grew heavier, and his hand in your hair tightened slightly as he struggled to maintain composure.

“You’re too good,” he managed, his voice breaking slightly. “I—”

Before he could finish, the coil in him snapped, and his praises were replaced with a low, drawn out moan of relief. You swallowed the ropes of hot cum, watching as he tried to catch his breath, his gaze locking with yours almost immediately.

“You’re perfect,” he said, his tone full of affection and disbelief. He reached out to cup your face, pulling you closer until his lips pressed against yours, savoring the taste of himself on your lips.

Your confidence emboldened by the way he looked at you with dazed, lust filled eyes. His hands still rested on your waist, fingers brushing your skin as you leaned into him, your voice soft but teasing.

“Can I ride you?” you asked, pussy aching for him.

His lips curved into a smile, his thumbs drawing slow circles on your hips. “Anything you want, princess,” he murmured.

You bit your lip as you shifted, settling over his hard cock with a nervous laugh that he silenced by cupping your cheek. “Take your time,” he said.

When you finally sank down onto his length, his hands gripped your hips firmly, guiding you with a steady rhythm that sent shivers down your spine. The quiet moan he let out made you even wetter, and you instinctively leaned forward, resting your hands on his chest for balance.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice rough but filled with admiration. “You ride me so well, just like that.”

His praises made you bolder, and you bounced on his cock with more confidence, your breathing shallow as he let his hands roam, one sliding up to gently cup your tits. The warmth of his touch made you bite back a moan and his eyes darkened as he noticed.

“You’ve got to be quiet pretty girl,” he whispered, his hands still steadying you. “Think you can do that?”

You nodded quickly, though the feeling building inside you made it harder with every moment. His grip on your hips tightened, and he thrusted up into you, the two of you finding a rhythm that made it impossible to focus on anything but how he stretched your pussy. He was so big, your pussy was sure to remember the shape of his cock after you were done.

“I want to cum with you,” you admitted breathlessly, leaning down so your lips were close to his ear. “Inside me.”

Young-il’s breath hitched, his eyes meeting yours with pure lust. A slow smirk spread across his face. “Beg for it,” he whispered.

Your cheeks burned, but the desire in his gaze made you bold. “Please,” you murmured, leaning closer. “I want you to cum with me. Please.”

He groaned softly, his hands gripping your hips even tighter. “Good girl,” he praised, his voice unsteady. “Just hold on to me.”

The pleasure between you reached its peak as his praises and your whispered pleas filled the air. When the release finally came, it was almost overwhelming, and you buried your face against his neck to stifle the moan that threatened to escape. His hands held you firmly in place as he came with you, cum spurting inside you while you soaked his cock, his breaths ragged but filled with relief.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured after a long pause, brushing stray strands of hair from your face. His gaze softened as he pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You couldn’t help but smile, your heart racing as you settled against him. “So are you,” you whispered back, letting the moment linger in the quiet comfort of his embrace.

[thesquidgame]

Calm Before the Storm

Hwang Jun-ho x wife!reader

Summary: After your husband's disappearance, he starts to act different.

Warning: Angst, disappearance, gunshot wound, head injury, hospitals, mention of death, marital conflict, mention of divorce, guns

6k words

The worst day of your life happened after one of your husband’s work trips. He said that his team had gotten a lead on what might have happened to his brother and that he had to investigate. That was par for the course, every couple months there would be another potential lead on where your brother-in-law could be, but every couple months Jun-ho would be sorely disappointed. 

This time was different. He said he would be gone for a couple of days, and that he didn’t know if he would be able to get in contact. He left for one day, and then two, then more. His department panicked, apparently, it wasn’t a work trip and one of their detectives went missing. After a week his picture was on the nightly news, and after 10 days you were doing interviews begging for anyone who had any information to step forward. His mother came to sleep at your apartment, and she said she just wanted to help out with her daughter-in-law, but you could hear her sobs in the middle of the night through the thin walls between your bedroom and the guest room. 

At 5 AM, a week after Jun-ho’s disappearance, you got a call. They had found him. He was in a specialized emergency hospital on the outskirts of Seoul, and he was in a coma. You rushed to your car with your mother-in-law and broke speed limits that Jun-ho would never let you break when he was in the car with you. 

The hospital parking lot was nearly empty. The lobby was quiet when you walked in, and the front desk woman almost looked shocked when she saw two women with deep circles under their eyes and hair sticking in every direction. Honestly, you couldn’t care less. She was the receptionist at a hospital, if that was the craziest thing she’d seen she was in for a rude awakening when an actual patient came up to her desk.

She quickly directed you to his hotel room, on the 3rd floor, where his supervisor was already waiting. Time seemed to slow down as you rode the elevator. It couldn’t have taken longer than 20 seconds, but it felt like years. What if he was dying? What if he didn’t wake up? What if he was getting worse? Your thoughts kept racing, and you and Jun-ho’s mother couldn’t share a single word between the two of you between all of the panic going on inside your heads.

The floor was so quiet you could hear the squeak of a nurse’s shoes down the hallway. You should’ve run to your husband's bedside, but you couldn’t. You took one step at a time, terrified of what might await you. His supervisor stepped out the door and closed it. He looked at you with tired eyes. “Mrs. Hwang, Mrs. Park, I’m glad you could make it.”

“How’s my husband?” Formalities could wait. Formalities could go to hell.

He sighed, and your heart skipped several beats. “How is he?!” Jun-ho’s mother yelled. 

“He’s okay, he seems to be mostly stable, but I-” He raised his hand and scratched the back of his head, looking away at the ground, “I gotta be honest. He’s not great. He was shot and fell from a high distance into water. He passed out in the water and the doctors think he breathed in water and fell unconscious. They’re not sure of the extent of brain damage because he hasn’t woken up, but the lack of oxygen to his brain likely caused some sort of impact. There’s more, but they would only tell me the basics because I’m not family.”

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. What if he didn’t wake up? What if he did and he wasn’t the same? Memories of the last night you spent together raced through your head. It had been a long exhausting day, and he somehow knew how terrible it had been. He brought takeout home and made an extra stop to get your favorite dessert from a bakery. He set the food down on the kitchen table and immediately made his way to you on the couch, leaned down, and kissed you until you needed to come up for air. You turned off the tv and sat on the couch for hours, eating and talking and eventually fucking. Right before you went to bed he told you that he was going on the trip tomorrow, and you just smiled and nodded, thinking it was going to be like all the other times.

You pushed past the sergeant and walked into your husband’s room. His bed was separated from an empty one by a curtain. You couldn’t feel your own feet as you walked towards it, and it almost felt like your hand wasn’t moving at all when you pushed past the curtain.

Jun-ho looked like death. There was a tube shoved in his throat and his skin was so pale it looked translucent, the blue of his veins showing through on his arm next to an IV. The circles under his eyes were deep and dark, and he was in a neck brace, with his head bandaged. 

It felt like all the air had been sucked out of your lungs. The second his mother saw him, she collapsed at his side and laid her body over his legs. Her cries were guttural and came from something that must’ve broken inside of her. “My baby, my baby. I lost one son, I’ll die if I lose another.”

You couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t cry. You sunk to a chair at his side and reached out for his hand. He was so cold. His skin felt like he had just been taken out of the ocean minutes before, and his heart rate was so slow it felt like it was second between beats.

You didn’t hear the doctor come into the room until he spoke. Jun-ho’s mother looked up and stared at him like he was an angel, but you couldn’t look away from your husband’s unmoving body.

“Mrs. Hwang, can I talk to you about your husband’s condition?” You didn’t move, his mother had to beg the doctor to continue speaking. “He was shot in his left shoulder, luckily the bullet didn’t hit any vital organs, but because of the time between the injury and his arrival at the hospital, he lost a significant amount of blood. We think he hit the water head-first, and the impact caused his neck to break, luckily, there was no spinal cord damage. We induced him into a coma once he reached the hospital, so unfortunately we aren’t able to tell the extent of the damage unless he wakes.”

Your mother and law stood up “Unless? What do you mean by unless?!” she screamed. “My son is not going to die, do you hear me?!” 

You felt broken, Jun-ho had to wake up, he had to. You didn’t care if he couldn’t walk, or speak, but he had to wake up.

You could hear fists banging against the doctor’s chest, but you didn’t turn around. Just kept staring at your husband’s pale face, and pale hands.

The hospital had apparently received a large grant during COVID to expand, and when the pandemic had died down they became designated only for acute emergency cases and recovery care, and many rooms were kept vacant. The staff let you stay in the other bed in his room, and there was a shower attached to the room, designed for patients in long-term recovery and their family members. The hospital had a small cafeteria that made shockingly delicious Korean food, and they delivered the meals to the room three times a day. Before long, you became used to the tired routine of late-night check-ups and tired smiles from the nurses urging you to go home and rest. You were terrified that if you left the hospital Jun-ho would die before you could get back, but you couldn’t tell the nurses that. You just told the nurses that your house was far away and it was more convenient to stay at the hospital as opposed to making the commute or getting a hotel room.

It was three weeks before Jun-ho moved. In that time, you hadn’t left the hospital once. He squeezed your hand while you were holding it, and at first, you thought you imagined it. You called the doctor, and she said she would keep an eye on it, but not to get your hopes up- apparently twitching was normal in coma patients. Several hours later you felt the squeeze again, and when you looked up, you saw Jun-ho’s eyes open the slightest bit. 

It was like a month’s worth of fear and pain cascaded over in a heartbeat, and you collapsed on his chest in broken sobs, staring up at your husband. His mother was there, and she leaned over at him, pleading his name. He stared at you for as long as he could, until his eyes closed again, his eyelids twitching like he wanted them to stay open. Once his eyes closed your hand was still holding his in a tight grip, and you reached open to press the button again.

In the next couple of days, he went in and out of consciousness at increasing intervals. The first moment where you felt like you could breathe again came a week after he first squeezed your hand, when you awoke from sleeping laying on his lap while you sat in the chair to the sound of gagging. You heard his heartbeat increase and saw his throat convulse and his eyes flash open as he fought his breathing tube. 

You immediately pressed the call button for the nurse, and when they took too long you went out into the hallway and screamed for a nurse. There were only a couple of patients on his hall, and they could go screw themselves if they thought their sleep was more important than your husband's choking. The nurse and doctor came running and closed the door on you. Within a couple of minutes the nurse opened the door, and let you step inside. The doctor tried to talk to you, but you couldn’t hear anything she was saying as you walked past her toward your husband’s side.

“Baby,” Jun-ho whispered. His voice was hoarse and broken, and you could feel tears streaming down your face.

“Honey, you’re- you’re here.” You cried more and more, and he painfully reached his arm up to you.

“It’s okay (y/n), I was never going anywhere, I’m here.” You tucked your head into his neck and sobbed into his hospital gown. 

He stroked your hair slowly until his hand rested on the back of your head. You looked up to see that he had fallen back asleep, exhausted from the ordeal of choking on his breathing tube. You pressed a kiss to his cheek, wet from a single tear rolling down his face, and tucked your head back down to fall asleep again.

You woke up to a nurse gently shaking you away, informing you that you had to sleep in the other bed to prevent infection. You wanted to fight her for doing her job, but obliged. You fell back asleep quickly, too tired to stay awake because of the crying you had just finished doing.

“(Y/n).” You awoke to a quiet voice, blinking your eyes because of the bright sunlight streaming through the window. You immediately looked over at Jun-ho to see your fiance with his head turned looking at you.

“Jun-ho.” You stood up, stumbling out of bed in the clothes you had to have been wearing for at least a couple of days before now, and went over to kiss him on the lips, the same way he had the last time you had seen him before he went missing. He reciprocated with more force than you thought someone who hadn’t moved any part of his body in a month could.

“I missed you so much honey, I couldn’t breathe for so long.” He smiled and wiped a tear off of your face. 

“I know baby, but I’m here now, I’m here.” He looked at you with so much love and life in his eyes, exactly what you had been missing for the past month.

“I was so scared Jun-ho, first I couldn’t find you, and then once I did I- I wasn’t sure.” You paused, another tear streaming down your face. “I wasn’t sure you would make it.” You whispered.

“I know (y/n), and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“You- you got shot. You fell from really high into the water far out in the ocean. You have no idea how scared I was.”

His brow furrowed painfully before he suddenly pulled his head back and winced. “Jun-ho, Jun-ho? Are you okay?!”

You frantically pushed the call button and within seconds there was a team of doctors and nurses entering the room. They slowed slightly when they saw the scene in front of them, and quickly determined there was no immediate danger, and quickly began examining him and asking you both questions. Once the rest of the group left, Jun-ho’s main doctor sat in a chair to explain the situation to the both of you.

She explained what the team had seen when they had checked Jun-ho over, and explained the need for another set of scans to ensure there was no serious brain injury. “We also will need to call the police back to the hospital, because of the gunshot wound.”

Jun-ho froze, and his back grew stiff. “Baby, what’s wrong?” You rested your hand in his grip, tightening it around his.

“Nothing’s wrong, just nervous about the tests.” He squeezed your hand back and smiled up at you at your position sitting next to him on the bed. His body remained stiff, and your brow furrowed in confusion. He was likely traumatized and in pain, both physically and mentally.

Once the doctor left, you apprehensively asked him “Honey, I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but… What happened when you were gone, with the fall, and the gunshot wound?”

He looked away from you and glanced out the window. He paused, “I don’t know. I don’t remember what happened.”

You leaned in and squeezed his hand again. “It’s okay if you do, I just want to help you.”

He remained looking out the window, until he looked back at you, something tight across his eyes. “I really don’t know, can we please talk about something else. I’m going to get enough of that from my coworkers later anyways.” He laughed, but the tightness across his face remained the same.

Smiling a similar tight smile, you squeezed his hand back. “Okay. Just, let me know if you remember anything.”

“Now, is there anything I can do to help you?” 

“Jun-ho, I’m not the one who just woke up from a coma, that’s my line!” Jun-ho smiled a real smile, and you copied him, smiling your first genuine smile in weeks.

After the tests, you wheeled Jun-ho in a wheelchair back into his hospital room, where you were greeted by his boss sitting in your usual chair next to his bedside. He stood up to greet you, “Detective! It’s so good to see you awake again!” He bowed to Jun-ho, and your husband nodded his head in return.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but do you think we could do the interview now? Just so we don’t get more in the way of you and your lovely wife.” He smiled, but there was anxiety furrowing his brow. He was clearly using many tactics that you watched Jun-ho explain that the police force used on victims and their families.

Jun-ho smiled back, “of course.” He looked up at you and smiled a similar tight smile towards you. “Honey, do you think you could go and get some coffee from downstairs for us?” 

You nodded, unsure of what to do as you could clearly tell that the coffee run was just an excuse to get you out of the room. “Of course.” There wasn’t anything you could do about it, and confronting your husband about something he is clearly not ready to talk about would certainly not be a solution. “Officer, would you like me to get you anything?”

He waved you off and you hesitantly exited the room to go downstairs.

Due to the emptiness of the hospital, it didn’t take you long to go down to the cafeteria, pick up some coffee for you and Jun-ho, and come back upstairs. When you reached the floor that the room was on, you hesitated, noticing that the door was cracked and the sounds of him and his boss were still quietly filtering out into the hallway.

You debated for a second staying and eavesdropping, but your moral compass won out in the end. Whatever it was, Jun-ho was clearly not ready to tell you. You didn’t want to betray his trust, and eventually, he would share it with you. The two of you had no secrets between you. If there ever was a night when Jun-ho would have to stay later at work, or was suddenly asked to hang out by his friends, he would call you immediately and tell you what was going on and when he would probably be home. Not that you necessarily needed him to, you trusted him, but he insisted that he never wanted you to worry after him. You did the same in turn, even though your job was far less demanding than his and plans came up far less sporadically for you than they did for him.

As you walked away, you heard a sliver of the conversation “hundreds… shot.” It made you pause in your step. You must’ve misheard. Maybe he had said something else. Maybe you were too sleep-deprived and stressed to think clearly. Still, you turned those words around in your head as you sat in a chair in the hallway next to the nurse’s station.

If you hadn’t misheard- if; what would it mean? Did Jun-ho have a brain injury that didn’t turn up on scans that makes him misremember what happened? Or- or was he telling the truth? Your husband wasn’t a liar, he was the perfect detective because of his strict moral compass, so that must mean… That must mean that if there was no brain injury, and if you didn’t mishear, wherever Jun-ho was he had watched hundreds of people die.

You heard a knock on the doorframe, “Mrs. Hwang, we’re done with the interview.” 

You stood up and walked toward the door when the other detective put his hand on your shoulder while his face grimaced. “I hope everything works out well for the two of you, I really do.” With that foreboding line of encouragement, he walked past you and towards the elevator.

When you entered the room, Jun-ho smiled at you. “(Y/n).” You walked towards him and kissed his forehead, handing him the cup of coffee.

Kissing his forehead, you asked, “How did it go? Are you alright?”

Jun-ho’s brow creased, but he smiled back at you still. “It went well, I just told him that I didn’t know anything.”

That didn’t make sense. You had to have been gone for at least 20 minutes, there was no way those 15 minutes were filled with the other detective asking questions that your husband kept saying no to.

“I’ll have to go into the station later on after I’m discharged and give a longer more formal statement, but for now they’ll leave us alone.”

“Great, I’m glad to have you all to myself.” You leaned over and kissed him on the lips again. You trusted him, and whatever it was that he wasn’t telling you, he would open up about soon. 

He didn’t. After another 2 weeks, the hospital was completely sure there were no long-standing effects. Besides having to regularly come in for check-ups and to carefully not hurt the shoulder where he was shot, miraculously there were no other serious effects.

You had finally gone back into the apartment after he woke up, although you weren’t happy about going back when it was lifeless due to Jun-ho’s absence. By the time he was discharged, the apartment was dust-free, and you made sure that everything was the same as it had been when he had first gone missing.

In the past couple of weeks, Jun-ho had been too calm. He was casual about just about everything. He was smiling, and making jokes, like nothing had ever happened. But, underneath it all, you could tell something was different. When you’ve been with someone for so long, had exchanged wedding vows, and slept in the same bed for years, you just knew them. You knew your husband, and something was off about him. He refused to go to sleep in the hospital room with the door open, and every time you came or went he would make you close the door behind you. He insisted that you spent the night in the hotel room with him (not that you were complaining) even when he was far out of the danger zone. On the car ride home from the hospital he would check the mirrors every time he thought you weren’t looking.

There was something completely off about him, he seemed paranoid, and for the first time in your relationship besides his brother’s disappearance- scared. But every time you would ask him what was wrong, he would just smile and say “I’m alright, just adjusting.”

You carried all of your stuff to the apartment, insisting on doing so even though your stubborn husband wanted to carry luggage even with a bullet recently being removed from his shoulder. But, when you left the elevator and were about to go into the apartment, he stopped you by putting his hand out.

“Baby, I just want to get inside. This is heavy.” You complained.

“I know, just- just give me a minute. I want to check something.” He silently turned the key to your small apartment, took off both his shoes, and stepped inside. He pulled up his pant leg slightly and took out a gun that you didn’t even notice was there.

“Jun-ho!”

He turned back to you and put his finger to his lips, shushing you. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

He closed the door behind him, and you stood there shocked. You knew something was wrong, but you didn’t expect him to take out a gun and search your home.

In a couple of minutes, he came back out. “What the hell Jun-ho? What was that!” 

“It was nothing, I’m sorry.” He put the gun back away.

“Why would you search our house? You’ve never done that before. Seriously Jun-ho, what’s going on?” You shouted, exasperated by him saying one thing and acting in a completely opposite way.

“It’s nothing.” He sighed, “I’m sorry (y/n), I’m just scared. It’s been a while since I’ve been out of the hospital, so I’m nervous.” He leaned in and gave you a hug, which you reciprocated. But still, that wasn’t the whole truth.

“I think you should see someone Jun-ho, this isn’t normal.” You said into your husband’s chest.

“(Y/n), I’m fine. I promise.” You leaned your head up and kissed him again.

The first week back was difficult. Jun-ho seemed terrified of just about everything around him. The both of you barely left the house, and when you did his hand held yours in a tight grip.

Your job had given you an extended leave to take care of Jun-ho, but your leave was ending in a few weeks once the two-month mark passed. 

You were laying in bed one night, Jun-ho tracing circles on your shoulder as you spooned after making love. “Jun-ho, I’m worried about you.”

He kissed your shoulder, “what about?” He said casually.

You rolled over to face him. “About everything, you’ve been so scared and stressed. I don’t know what’s going to happen once I go back to work.” 

He propped his head on his hand as he laid on his side, “I know, I’m sorry. I’m starting to feel better. I’m sorry I’ve been so paranoid lately.”

You sighed, “I want you to see someone Jun-ho. I don’t want this to fester and fester.”

He sighed, “I know (y/n), I promise it’ll get better soon. I talked to the chief today, I’ll go back to work next week.”

You shot up in bed, “two weeks? Babe, that isn’t nearly enough time. You still can’t lift anything heavier than a paper clip with your left arm.”

Jun-ho reached back towards you and stroked your arm. “Well good thing I’m right-handed.” He smirked.

Tilting your head, you just looked back at your husband anxiously. “Jun-ho this is serious. You aren’t ready to go back to work.”

“(Y/n), please trust me. This will all be over soon, okay?” He looked at you pleadingly. He didn’t want you to drop it or ignore it, he wanted you to- trust him? There was a secret, but he clearly didn’t want you to know it, and just to wait.

Sighing, you said, “Okay, I’ll wait.” You didn’t know what else to say. You couldn’t make him tell you the truth, and he wanted you to not push it. There was nothing to do. “But I really want you to talk to someone.”

He leaned in to kiss you, and right before he touched your lips, he said “Okay, I will; for you.” Then he closed the distance and kissed you until you needed to come up for air.

Your house was quieter after you both went back to work. When Jun-ho came home from work he would make his way next to you on the couch, lay down, and put his head on your lap. It was nice at first, after so much stress you could simply relax and enjoy each other's company.

Soon after getting home, he would get tired. Sometimes falling asleep on your lap.

After a month of him getting back to work, you were exhausted from the silence. It became oppressive. You grew tired of the same routine, and how your husband never quite grew less paranoid. He became better at hiding it, attaching cameras and extra locks around your house under the guise of burglaries in the building that you had never heard of. He would stand up from his crouch install the locks and wrap his arms around you, kissing you and telling you that he just wanted you to be safe.

Before his accident, he would wake up every morning and make breakfast for the both of you, insisting that it was the most important meal of the day. After the accident, he started to make lunch as well, and whenever you suggested that you go out for dinner, he smiled and told you that he enjoyed your cooking so much more.

Then, after 3 months, he came home completely exhausted. It was later than usual, and you stayed up late to greet him, completely concerned by his lack of response to any of your texts. “Jun-ho, where the hell were you? Are you okay?!” You ran up to him as soon as he opened the door, looking him up and down for any injuries.

“No, I’m fine.” He smiled a lopsided and insincere smile at you. He smelled like alcohol.

“Were you drinking?” You demanded.

“Me and my coworkers went out for a couple of bottles of soju after work, nothing much.” He shook off his shoes and went to hug you.

You pulled away, “why didn’t you tell me? We always tell each other these things.” 

“Baby, I had a long, long day, let’s not do this right now.”

“No, we have to do this right now, what happened? You’ve been so strange lately, and you never went to talk to someone like you said you would.” You paused, tears beginning to well up in your eyes, “I’m really concerned for you. I want you to get tested for PTSD.”

He stepped closer to you, “I don’t have PTSD, I just had a long day.” You didn’t move. He sighed, “(Y/n), please, I’m exhausted. Can we do this tomorrow?”

You didn’t say anything but didn’t move when he closed the distance between you to pull you into a tight hug. You finally reciprocated, pulling him closer, when you heard silent sniffling from next to your ear. In a heartbeat, you felt a drop of wetness on your shoulder. 

The next day, Jun-ho quit being a detective. After he started crying, he pretended like nothing had happened, got silent, and took a shower before going to bed. You barely spoke another word the rest of the night, but after he thought you went to sleep you could feel him trace circles on your shoulder.

He told you as soon as he got home that being a detective was too much work for him after the accident, and he tired more easily, but you didn’t buy it for a second.

“Jun-ho, you love your job, why would you quit? Do you want to go back on leave?” You pleaded at your husband.

He smiled back at you, “Of course I love my job, it’s only temporary.” And he leaned in to kiss you on the lips.

Temporary. Although your better judgment told you otherwise, you put all your faith in that one little word. Temporary, this, like everything else making your husband act so different, would pass.

Jun-ho came home late the next day. Then the next. The first you waited up for him, sitting at the dinner table, your food growing cold. When your husband came in, he didn’t smell like alcohol, he simply kissed you on the forehead and sat down across from you, not confronting his tardiness. You cried yourself to sleep that night, with your husband laying stiff as a board next to you, unsure of what to do.

The next night, when he was late, you didn’t bother to wake up. You left his food in the fridge and went to bed early, tears streaming down your face. You were still awake when he came into bed but pretended to be asleep. You could feel the bed shaking from his silent sobs.

The next month went on in the same way, with the only escape from the monotony of your miserable silence being Jun-ho’s one day off. On that one day, you would pretend that you didn’t have any problems, that you were a normal couple who would go walking through the cherry trees and go out drinking together late at night. You went on a double date with one of your coworkers and her husband and sat awkwardly through one of their arguments. It wasn’t the same, but having some bit of refuge away from your stress was a lifesaver.

But even that changed. One day, you decided to go kayaking out in the bay, and while you were out in the water, Jun-ho stopped for a minute. There was a gap in your conversation, and during it, your husband stopped paddling.

“Babe, are you alright?”

He looked up at you as if startled. “Yeah, I’m alright.” He paused, “Would it be okay if we went back, I need to do something important.”

“Um, yeah sure. What is it?” You hesitantly asked.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” Your face sank. Every question you asked your husband ended with him saying ‘It’s nothing,’ no matter how big of a deal it likely was.

A couple of days later, when your husband came home late again, he told you that he would be busy on his day off and that a friend of his needed help on his boat. You just smiled and nodded, because what else could you really do?

Then he was busy the next weekend, and then the next, and the next. You only really saw your husband for a couple of minutes in the morning, and a couple of minutes in the night. Sometimes, you were able to make time. Sometimes, you would go out for a nice dinner, or go out to a friend’s party for the holidays. On your birthday he took the whole day off work and planned every single thing you would do all day. He made breakfast, took you shopping in the morning, went out to a nice lunch, took you out to the countryside to the ocean, and bought you lunch in your favorite tiny spot next to the shore. It was like for just 24 hours you had your husband back.

But other than that, it was like living with a ghost. He got more and more stressed over time. He smiled the same amount, but even with taking a demotion to a regular cop, he was getting worse and worse over time. He felt tenser, and more on edge than he had ever been before.

Every night you would fall asleep crying, you became used to waking up with a wet pillow or having to look at your puffy eyes when you wiped the condensation off the mirror after crying in the shower. Whenever Jun-ho saw the tears, whether you were laying in bed or cooking dinner on one of the rare nights that he came home early would wrap you in a hug from behind, and say, “I’m so sorry honey, I promise this will pass.” 

And you would plead, “Please honey, please, just tell me what’s happening, please be here more.”

And he would press his head into your back and whisper, “I can’t, I’m sorry. I love you.”

Your hopes would drop all over again, “I love you too.”

It was three years before anything changed. You would constantly beg him to do anything, to see someone, to talk to you, to do anything. Your friends asked you if he was cheating, but you knew he wasn’t. You knew, somehow that whatever was happening, was big, and important. And that it was eating you and your husband alive.

You didn’t see him for three days. He answered all of your texts with “Just something for work, I’ll be home soon. I love you.” Nothing else. No explanation for anything.

You slept on the couch and stayed there when you were awake, racked with anxiety. When he finally came home you sat there staring straight ahead. He didn’t speak.

You had pictured a fight, a confrontation. You had begged and pleaded, with tears in your eyes before. But nothing had happened. And after almost four years, you didn’t have any energy left.

“I want a divorce.” You surprised yourself with the words.

You looked up at him, and he stood there, his expression unreadable. 

“If you can’t tell me what the hell is going on, tomorrow I’m going to a lawyer.” 

He stumbled toward you and dropped to his knees in front of you, “(Y/n), please. You just have to trust me. This, this’ll all be over soon. I know I’ve said it before, but this time I mean it, soon it’ll be just like before.”

You looked into your husband’s eyes which were beginning to fill with tears. “I don’t believe you.”

“Baby, please. I can’t tell you, I really can’t.” His head dropped, breaking eye contact as you saw a tear fall down to reach the floor. He whispered, “If- if you know the truth, I don’t know what’ll happen to you. And I can’t risk that. I- I’ve risked everything else. But I can’t risk you.”

You couldn’t cry, your tears were all dried up. You should be shocked by what he was saying, but your mind went back to what you heard him say from outside that hospital room years ago “Hundreds… Shot.”

“I know, I’ve known. I know that you remember, and I know that it’s related to when you went missing. I just need you to trust me. I can’t do this anymore.”

He looks up at you, grabbing your hands and wrapping his around yours. “I know, I’m so sorry, but I need you to just wait a little bit longer-”

You stood up. “I think you should leave.” 

“(Y/n), please.”

You walked away from him, towards your bedroom. “(Y/n), I love you.”

“I love you.” And then you heard the door shut.

As you lay in bed, you couldn’t help but feel empty, like your heart had been torn out of your chest. The brutal calm you had been through was over, but storm had just begun.

Part two will be out with the next season, stay tuned for more!

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ gods and monsters ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ hwang in-ho x wife!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header!

˚ ༘♡ you cherished your husband, your family, and the life you had created together. hwang in-ho was a man of contradictions, capable of immense love and devotion. he treated you with such care, as though you were the most precious thing in his world. his adoration was tangible in every gesture, every lingering glance. yet beneath that tenderness was a darkness you struggled to reconcile. this same man, who held your hand with precious affection, was also the masked overseer of the squid game, a series of merciless challenges where the desperate competed, often at the cost of their lives, for a staggering cash prize.

˚ ༘♡ you could never truly fathom it. the man who pressed sweet kisses to your forehead at night was the same monster who orchestrated a spectacle of death and suffering. he claimed no pleasure in it, but the mere fact of his involvement unsettled you. the gleaming black mask, the command he held over every horrific detail, it was a world so far removed from the comfort of your home, yet it belonged to him all the same.

˚ ༘♡ only once had he asked if you wished to attend, to see what he called “his other life.” the question had terrified you to your core, your lips parting in silent dismay. you hadn’t needed to answer. the way your expression shifted, the way fright and disapproval glared across your pallid face, was enough. he never brought it up again, never risked shattering the fragile balance he had created between his two identities.

˚ ༘♡ you were a mother to a healthy three-year-old son, who filled your days with laughter and energy, and you were carrying another child, though you had yet to tell your husband. the news remained a quiet secret, one you turned over in your mind during the solitude of the evening. it wasn’t fear of his reaction that kept you silent. hwang in-ho adored his family, there was no question of that, but the thought of bringing another life into the shadow of the games unsettled you.

˚ ༘♡ you tried to focus on being the woman you wanted to be, a loving mother, a supportive partner. in many ways, you succeeded. you tucked your son in every night with whispered stories and soft lullabies, kept your home warm and welcoming, and met your husband’s gaze with as much love as you could muster, even when doubts crept into the corners of your mind.

˚ ༘♡ when your worries became too much to bear, he would sense it, always. he would take your hands in his, his voice calm, his tone measured. “think of me as two men,” he would say, his words a plea for understanding. “there is hwang in-ho, your husband, your partner, the father of our children. and then there is the front man, a role i play, a mask i wear.”

˚ ༘♡ you wanted to believe him, to hold on to the idea that the man who kissed you tenderly each morning could be separate from the one who orchestrated so much pain. but no matter how you tried to comprehend it, there were nights when the thought of who he was beyond your shared walls kept you awake, your heart aching with questions you couldn’t bring yourself to ask.

˚ ༘♡ you tried with all your might to separate the two sides of the man you loved, the front man and your husband, hwang in-ho. but when he told you he wouldn’t be able to contact you during this year’s games, the delicate balance you had worked so hard to maintain crumbled. the weight of his words refused to settle, tearing at you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to simply let it go.

˚ ༘♡ “every year, you’ve managed to visit after the game for the day. what’s different this time?” you asked, your voice trembling with desperation.

˚ ༘♡ at first, he deflected, his tone dismissive as if your concerns were unwarranted. but as your worry grew, it became impossible for him to ignore. the strain in your expression, the way your voice cracked when you spoke, it was enough to wear him down. even your son had begun to notice, his small hands tugging at your sleeve, his innocent eyes filled with confusion at the tension that filled the air.

˚ ༘♡ with a frustrated sigh, in-ho finally relented. his hand enveloped yours, warm and steady against your trembling fingers. “i will be there this year,” he admitted, his voice hushed and measured. “as a player.”

˚ ༘♡ the words sent a chill through you, and your breath caught in your throat. “what? why?” you asked, your disbelief slicing through the tension.

˚ ༘♡ his gaze locked onto yours. “there is someone returning to the games this year,” he began, his tone careful. “a former player, a winner in fact. he’s likely to cause complications, and… i can’t deny the intrigue of watching him. this year will be different. i’ve decided to stay close by instead of observing from a distance.”

˚ ༘♡ fury and agony surged within you, and your hands shook as you lightly struck his chest, the beating driven by hysteria. “you idiot!” you yelled. “you can’t guarantee you’ll be safe! have you even thought about your family? what about our son?”

˚ ༘♡ he caught your wrist gently, his grip cautious, his face softening as he pulled you closer. “i will not be in danger,” he said, his voice calm but insistent. “i promise you that.”

˚ ༘♡ still, his assurance wasn’t enough. it didn’t stop the knot in your stomach from tightening or the ache in your chest from growing far more intense. the words you spoke next tumbled out before you had a chance to think them through. “if that’s true, then you won’t have any problem with me coming along!”

˚ ༘♡ the declaration hung in the air, sharp and sudden. even you were startled by it, your heart pounding in your chest as the misery of your demand settled between you. fear and anger had driven you to say it, but now it was too late to take it back. you searched his face for a reaction, your pulse racing.

˚ ༘♡ “don’t speak such nonsense again," he said firmly, his tone cutting through the tension in the room. "you have our son to think about. i am going, and i’ll return in a week. this is final."

˚ ༘♡ “no!” you shot back, the tremor in your voice betraying your growing panic. “if you’re going, then i’m coming with you. you told me it’s safe.” your eyes darted toward your son, who had long fallen asleep, blissfully unaware of the battle unfolding. a wave of guilt swept over you, tightening your throat. “he can stay with the household staff for a week. do you think i could take care of him properly while i’m sick with worry about you?”

˚ ༘♡ his brow furrowed, the sharp lines of irritation creasing his weary face. “you’re being unreasonable,” he said, his voice hard, though it faltered slightly as he began pacing the room. each step was measured, purposeful, as though he were trying to walk away from the argument itself. “this is dangerous enough without you there complicating things.”

˚ ༘♡ “and you’re being infuriating,” you countered, your tone rising as desperation overtook your earlier composure. “do you think I’d forgive myself if something happened to you while i stayed here and did nothing? you’re asking too much of me.” your voice cracked, the weight of your despair spilling into the room.

˚ ༘♡ the argument carried on into the late hour, a nightmare of clashing scorn and unresolved fears. he tried to dismiss you, to shut you down with reason, but you refused to back down. your agony, raw and untamed, eventually drove you to the brink. “if you go without me, i’ll leave,” you said, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “i’ll take our son, and i’ll leave.”

˚ ༘♡ the silence that followed was deafening. he froze, his gaze snapping to yours, searching your face for the truth. you hated the lie, the hollowness of your own threat, but it was all you had left. leaving him wasn’t something you could ever do, but the thought of him walking into danger alone was unbearable.

˚ ༘♡ he exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging under the burden of his dilemma. “fine,” he said at last, his voice clipped and low. “if you’re coming, then there are conditions… rules that have to be carefully followed.”

˚ ༘♡ your relief was immediate but short-lived as his words settled over you like a heavy cloak. “what conditions?” you asked, your voice softer now, cautious.

˚ ༘♡ “we’ll need to use false identities," he explained, his tone deliberate, each word chosen with care. "to everyone involved, we’re strangers. no one can know who we are, not even that we’re connected."

˚ ༘♡ the practicality of his demand sent a shiver down your spine, even as you nodded in agreement. the idea of pretending he was nothing more than a stranger felt unnatural, wrong, but you couldn’t argue. “i understand,” you murmured, though the knot in your stomach tightened with every passing second.

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t respond immediately, his gaze lingering on you as though considering whether you truly grasped what you were stepping into. when he finally looked away, you felt no sense of victory, only the forthcoming horror of what lay ahead.

˚ ༘♡ the games were set to begin in exactly one week, and each passing day left you feeling more unsettled. every time your husband pulled you into his arms, the unease lingered beneath the surface, making it difficult to fully surrender to his warmth. though you tried to find comfort in his presence, the thought of what lay ahead clouded every shared moment.

˚ ༘♡ you had entrusted your son to the most reliable and loyal members of the household staff, ensuring that he would be cared for in your absence. you also took great care to conceal any sign of your pregnancy. if in-ho discovered the truth, he would never allow you to join him, and staying behind was not an option you could accept.

˚ ༘♡ he had laid out the plan with meticulous precision. the two of you would arrive after the chaos of the first game, red light, green light. as he explained it, a large portion of the participants would undoubtedly be eliminated once they grasped the deadly reality of the games. the aftermath of that horror would provide cover for your entrance, allowing you to integrate without raising suspicion.

˚ ༘♡ your husband would take on the identity of player 001, an unassuming participant with no visible ties to you. your alias would be player 077, your stories carefully crafted to fit the narrative. his fabricated reason for joining the games was both haunting and ironic, he claimed he needed money for his pregnant wife. when he first told you this, a wave of panic washed over you, thinking he might have discovered your secret. but as you studied his expression, his calm demeanor revealed no hint of realization.

˚ ༘♡ for your feigned story, he decided you would play the role of a young woman drowning in debt, struggling to pay off the burdens left behind by your late father. the lie felt strangely fitting, yet it unsettled you all the same. every detail he crafted for your cover seemed so calculated, so detached, it was as though he had rehearsed this for far longer than he let on. this game of life and death was nothing more than a facade for him.

˚ ༘♡ you nodded along as he explained the plan, his voice unwavering. though the words were spoken with care, they failed to soothe the growing tension within you. each step of the plan felt cold, clinical, designed to strip away any sense of the life you shared outside these games. with every passing day, the distance between hwang in-ho, your husband, and the front man became more glaring, and you wondered if you could truly separate the two when it mattered most.

˚ ༘♡ you knelt by your son’s bedside, planting a soft kiss against his forehead. his small hand clung to your finger, and for a vanishing moment, you felt the crushing weight of guilt threaten to undo you. you whispered promises you weren’t sure you could keep, telling him you would be back soon, that everything would be fine. as his breathing slowed in sleep, you lingered a minute longer, memorizing the curve of his face and the delicate skin of his tiny hand before slipping away with your husband.

˚ ༘♡ the player uniforms were a tight, oppressive reminder of the role you had agreed to take on. the white and forest-green fabric felt rough against your skin, the stitched numbers, 001 on him, 077 on you, marking you both as part of this wicked charade. the air between you was dense with unspoken tension as you followed his lead into the heart of the games.

˚ ༘♡ the aftermath of the first game hit you like a physical blow. scarlet-red blood smeared the walls, the metallic stench thick enough to taste. lifeless bodies were being dragged away by masked figures, their uniforms pristine against the carnage. your stomach churned violently, and you had to bite down hard to keep from retching. your husband walked ahead, his pace measured, his face a mask of icy detachment.

˚ ༘♡ yet, even as he feigned indifference, you noticed the subtle tension p his clenched fists and the hard line of his jaw. no matter how disciplined and resolute he was, pretending you were a stranger clearly cost him some of his will power.

˚ ༘♡ you entered the massive dormitory, a cavernous space where the remaining players huddled in groups, their expressions etched with terror and disbelief. the room was alive with murmurs, frantic whispers of confusion and distress as they tried to process what had happened. the realization of the deadly nature of the games hung over the crowd, suffocating and inescapable.

˚ ༘♡ abruptly, a piercing voice broke through the calamity, commanding and filled with urgency. all eyes turned to player 456, a man whose presence seemed to dominate the room. his words were bold, calling for a vote in accordance with the consent clause, a chance for the players to decide whether they would continue or abandon the games. the idea rippled through the crowd, igniting faint glimmers of hope in some and deepening the despair in others.

˚ ༘♡ your husband moved slightly, a subtle shift in his stance catching your attention. his gaze flicked toward you, so brief it was almost imperceptible. then, with deliberate movements, he traced a small circle on the back of his hand, an action so precise it disturbed you. he turned away before you could react, his focus now on the masked enforcers who were setting up the voting station.

˚ ༘♡ it took you a moment to understand the message. he wanted you to vote in favor of continuing the games. the realization landed suddenly. you clenched your fists, your nails biting into your palms as you tried to steady yourself. the thought of condemning the remaining players to more death and suffering was unbearable, but you understood what his silent gesture meant. if the games ended now, everything he had planned, every risk he had taken, would amount to nothing.

˚ ༘♡ the apprehension caused your chest to tighten further as the masked figures prepared the voting station, their movements mechanical and precise. the voices of the players rose, some pleading for an end, others arguing to stay. you felt your pulse quicken, the enormity of what you were about to do pressing down on you as you prepared to cast a vote that would decide not only the fate of the players but the course of your husband’s dangerous mission.

a/n: the winner of the fanfiction vote, but i will definitely be writing for cho sang-woo as well! i hope you all enjoy reading! let me know if you have anymore requests! 🤍

[intellectualfallacy]

please write more of hwang jun ho !! 🙏🙏

Author's Note: He was the first I wanted to write for to get my writing warmed up again, so can't help but oblige to this request! ☺️ I really hope you enjoy!

Summary: After you come back from a late night work outing, (Y/N) and Junho seem to have the same thought in mind.

Rating: M (18+)

Warning(s): Smut, Dirty Talk, Oral (F & M Receiving), No Protection

MDI

The wind blew harsh as I rushed inside to the apartment’s lobby to escape the night’s cold weather, giving a shudder as I was met with a slightly less cold environment. I would have been home hours ago but a work dinner kept me away, making me regret wearing a dress if i had known I would be staying for so long. The alcohol helped keep me a bit warm but nothing like being at home with Junho. He was all I could think about during the outing; flashes of his sweet smile, laughter, his body cuddling and keeping me warm.. or how good he looked over me.. 

Maybe it was the one beer thinking for me. Or I really just needed him. Walking up the stairs, I reach our apartment door, clumsily pulling out my keys and opening the door silently. Instead of being met with a dark living room, the corner lamp and television lit the room, seeing Junho almost staring blankly at the screen as if to not fall asleep. “You’re not in bed?” I ask as i closed the door, causing him to jolt. “There you are.” He replies, huffing lightly as he stood up, the blanket on him slipping off as he yawned, wearing a white tee shirt and grey shorts. “You weren’t answering your phone but since the bar isn’t that far, I assumed you were just busy.” He explained as I took off my coat and heels, walking towards me. “How did it go?” He moved the hair out of my face, cupping my face as he placed a gentle kiss on my lips. I moaned and smiled as he moved away, seeing his warm smile and groggy eyes. “It went good. Nothing special.” I close the gap between us as I wrap my arms around his neck, his hands moving to my hips. “I was just thinking about you, a lot.” I reply, him giving a curious hum. “What did I do to earn the privilege?” He places his forehead against mines, feeling his hands wander to the small of my back, moving me closer to him. “There’s too many to count.” I reply with a small laugh, making him smile proudly. “Should I give you a reason then?” He asks, moving his head back and a hand back up to my cheek, giving a soft rub. “Hmm.. How are you going to do that?” I teased, lightly running my fingers along his neck. Giving a small smirk, he grabs my legs and pulls me up, making me let out a gasp as I wrapped my legs around his waist. “Don’t worry, I’ll show you.”

My back hits the mattress as Junho’s soft lips crash against mines, settling between my legs as I wrap one around him, the other bent on his side. His hands traveled my sides as he parted my lips, both of us moaning into our mouths and moving my hands along his back, dragging his shirt up more and more. I struggled not to grind up to him as his hand reached for my thigh, squeezing it and moving his hand higher, his rough fingertips gliding and raising my dress higher. “You’re so soft.” He moans out as he moves his head to my neck, giving light kisses and small licks as I moaned softly. I could feel him move the bottom of my dress up, lightly touching the inside of my thigh before feeling his covered bulge begin to grind down onto me slowly. “Junho.” I whimpered as he sucked on my neck, causing a sting before licking it as I grinded up to him, a hand pushing my hips back down. “You have to be patient, baby.” He said into my ear before giving it a little bite, making me grasp onto his shirt as he kept up the slow pace. “But I want more.” I whimpered, my nails dragging lightly against his back, hearing him give a low moan. Instead of answering, he moved up and off of me, moving off of the bed and standing. “Come take my clothes off if you need it that bad.” He gave an intense stare as I moved to him, keeping my eyes on him as his hand reaches down to grasp his growing cock. I simply nod and smile, standing and removing his shirt, it falling on the ground as my fingertips glide along his tight abs. My hand moves to his shorts, letting them fall on the floor as his black boxer briefs are revealed. I keep my eyes on him as I let my fingers trail along his bulge before gripping it lightly, smiling up at him as he sucks in a breath. He moves a hand to hold the back of my neck, keeping me there. “Are you my dirty girl?” He asks. I nod, feeling his fingers dig slightly. “Say it.” He growled, making me whimper with excitement. “I’m your dirty girl.” I say, earning an approving moan. 

“Then get on your knees.” He lets go of my neck, stepping back to give me space to be in front of him. Nodding, I kneel down in front of him, reaching back and letting my dress pool around me. Reaching up, my hand grips his bulge, giving light strokes as I look up at him. He gives a small smile before saying, “Come on, (Y/N), don’t be mean.” I move closer and place a kiss on his covered cock, keeping my eyes on him. “I thought we had to be patient.” I tease, getting him to growl. “I take that back.” He replies, his eyes going along my body. “Take that bra off, too.” I nod, keeping my eyes on him as i reach back and unlatch my bra, letting it fall with the dress. I lick my lips as my hands pull and let go of the black fabric, watching his cock spring out. He lets out a relieved moan as my hand wraps around his base, kissing his tip before taking out my tongue, letting his tip lay on it for a second before licking him. My other hand comes up to grab his thigh as I let my mouth fully wrap around him, my eyes shutting as I adjust to him. A low groan escapes him as his cock hits the back of my throat, both hands grabbing my head and bobbing me, making me gag and move back, spit dribbling down my chin. “Fuck.” He groaned as I smiled up at him, both hands on his thighs as I take him in again, keeping my eyes on him as I bury his cock in my throat again. I gag a bit around him but keep bobbing my mouth, my eyes beginning to water as I did my best to keep them open. His eyebrows crease and his mouth stays open as he stares, groans, moans and curses escaping them as my hands grip onto his thighs. A hand travels to his balls, massaging them lightly as my eyes closed again, keeping up my movements until I feel him move me off of him. 

I let out a small gasp as I look up at him, seeing him huffing, letting out a load moan. “Get on your back.” He ordered, lifting myself up only for him to grab me halfway, lifting and tossing me onto the mattress, making me gasp. “I need you.” I whimper, catching my breath as his hands reached down, pulling my panties off as I raised my hips to help him. He let them drop before he lowered himself to my crotch, his lips and breath getting closer to my pussy, making me shiver. “You’re so wet.” He mutters almost to himself before his tongue peeks out of his mouth, his eyes glues to my wetness before he licks along my folds, his eyes closing as he tasted. “God, fuck.” I moaned out as I felt him drag his tongue again, opening his eyes and looking up at me. I whined as I felt his hands reach up, moving my legs up and over his shoulders before feeling his tongue move into my pussy, moving it back and forth before licking up to my clit, sucking on it lightly. Throwing my head back, I can’t help the moans that escape me before looking back to him, his hand reaching up and folding my tit as he enjoyed his motions. “I need your cock in me, Junho,” I whimpered, fighting to start grinding on his face. His eyes fluttered as he moved away from me, his chin lightly shining with wetness as he reached for a cabinet, pulling a small towel from it and quickly cleaning his chin. “Come here.” His hand captures my chin as I lean up to do so, our tongues intertwined with each others taste.

We stay like this for a moment, savoring each other before I move away, glancing at his cock, swearing I could see it twitch for a second. “Do you need my cock in you? Huh?” Looking up at him, he smirks as he brings he brings his cock to my pussy, rubbing his tip against my cock, making me moan out and nod frantically. “Yes, I do, please, Junho, I need you inside me.” I mumble against his lips as he spreads my legs and sinks into me, a yell and moan leaving me as his cock gently spreads me, his hand coming up to move the hair off my face as he slowly starts to thrust. I let out shaky moans as I adjust to him, a hand reaching to his hips and guide him on how I’m feeling. He keeps looking between my face and his cock thrusting into me, his beautiful face making the most sinful faces, groans and long moans making me get even closer. I grab the back of his head and he grabs the back of my knees, bringing them up to his shoulders as I wrapped my arms around his neck, feeling as his cock sinks even deeper than I thought. 

“Oh fuck-”

“Junho!”

My body shakes as he looks into my eyes, huffing and moaning so near my mouth as he enters me. The new angle makes me feel so full, whimpering as he brings his lips to my neck, hearing him almost whimper as my pussy tightened around him. He licks along my neck as he begins to thrust more, my hands coming up to rake my fingers along his back, feeling goosebumps rise as I reached his lower back. “You’re so fucking pretty.” Junho whines as he moves his head away, a hand grasping at my hip to bring it up as the other went to my tit, his fingers squeezing my nipple before groping it again. I can only whimper over and over again as his cock filled me, goosebumps rising on my skin as he kept fucking me so much, it was starting to become overwhelming.

“Huh-Jun- Fuck… Junho”

“Gonna come, baby?”

“Mmm-”

“Dirty girl. Come over this cock.”

I let out a choked whimper before moaning a mix of curses and Junho’s name, letting out a loud moan as my body shook with orgasm, whimpering as his cock kept moving. I look down at his cock moving in me before I glance to him, seeing his dark gaze watching my every movement, biting his lip before letting a whine escape. “I need you.” I whisper, bringing his head closer to me, our lips barely touching. “Cum in me.” I whimper, my sensitive pussy making me whine and tighten around him. Letting out a deep moan, he nods, keeping his eyes on me. “That’s what my honey needs. My cum.” He groans out, groaning loud before his movements fastened, making me curse at the sudden quickness of his thrusts. “All for me.” I whimper, smiling up at him. “Right, baby?” I whimpered, my hands squeezing his arms. His eyes squeeze shut as he keeps his hard thrust going, curses escaping him as I moan. “Mmm, that cock needs to cum in me~” I tease, pushing his head down onto my neck, moaning into his ear. “Oh-oh fuck-” He groans out before I feel his cock cum in me, moaning at the feeling. I grind up to him to help him through, moaning as he kept fucking me, his cock softening as he took it out, a soft moan from me as he slumped beside me.

He laid on his back before I moved and laid on his chest, letting out a soft moan as we settled in. He spread his legs, letting my legs go over his, my head laying on his chest as one of my hands laid on his chest, both of catching our breaths. After a moment, we both shuffled to move lower, laying side by side but our bodies facing each other to hug on the bed. We both stayed silent as he moved his head back and going along my body, almost inspecting for injuries before he turned to me almost exhausted, letting himself bury his head into my neck and hands holding me close. I smiled lightly before I relaxed, closing my eyes as I felt him bring up our blanket, covering us both in warmth. I felt him move away before I opened my eyes, him smiling back at me. “I love you.” He whispers before kissing me again, making me giggle with happiness. “I love you. More than you know.” I reply as our mouths move away for a second, his smile going across his face before kissing me deeply.

“That means you’re mine, right?”

“Always.”

[lady-of-endless]

"Veiled Intentions" (Hwang In-ho/Player 001/Front man x player!reader)

Summary: No game of cat and mouse ends well.

Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who voted for this fic to be done first. I'm happy to provide. He might be a little obsessive, but you should've expected it by now. Don't worry; I got a softer, heartfelt, and angsty fic on the go for tomorrow. Hope you'll enjoy this one until then, darlings!

(Squid Game masterlist here)

Whenever he flashed a smile to the team, no one noticed how the coldness of his eyes was somehow still persistent. The charm of his smile always eclipsed that detail. It was enough to successfully manipulate most players, except for you. The only one who seemed to see the bigger picture was you and he could sense it. No amount of calculated smooth-talking, apparent encouragement, or fake short smiles could trick you too.

The others seemed to accept him easily, either for the calmness that made him seem reliable or for the vital need to have more people with the same vote. Not you, and it was clear to him.

In-ho had a plan going on; he had no intention of wasting time and trying harder to trick you too, letting you do your silent judging. But still, you were slowly becoming more and more present in his mind. You weren't warming up to him, weren't impressed like the others. Why not? More importantly, why did he like it that way? You were smarter and he enjoyed watching you analyzing everyone around, including him. Yes, you were a problem for him, but he was almost proud of having such a fascinating problem to take care of.

In-ho was too good at looking relieved, and joyful whenever the other players from player 456's team made it during the games. You noticed a strange spark in his eyes whenever you also completed the games. Was he really relieved or just glad that with each game he was getting closer to taking care of you personally?

Even now, he was watching you silently when the speakers announced bedtime. You all remembered what was the plan Gi-hun came up with to stay safe and looked around for a lonely bed bunk. Your constant doubt pushed you to come up with a plan to figure him out and now it was the perfect time to strike.

In-ho was ready to make a strategic choice when your voice interrupted his thoughts again.

"Join me?" You asked bluntly, with a warm smile on your face. A fake smile, a reflection of his. He looked at you, raising an eyebrow at your proposal. "For bonding time, getting along." You added, encouragingly, almost playfully, not to stir suspicion in others.

All the other teammates noticed how you kept your distance from him and were glad to see you try to get along.

In-ho almost wanted to chuckle at your reasoning but his expression remained composed. He could tell that you were trying to convince him with your charm and that you only played a role. And he was doing the same.

"Lead the way then." In-ho responded calmly, as always.

In-ho had a small, almost imperceptible smirk on his face the whole time following you, and his eyes were glued to the nape of your neck. How could he ignore you?

You crawled carefully under a bed that was placed closer to a corner no one else chose. A shiver ran down your spine when he joined you effortlessly, making almost no sound at all. The lights dimmed. However, that wasn't the problem. The problem was that the space from under the beds was not enough for two. Both of you were lying down on your backs, staring at the bed from above. His shoulder was pressed against yours, the feeling was impossible to push aside.

You closed your eyes tightly, cursing the tight space and sighing deeply. Why didn't you think this through? In-ho was amused by your frustration and how your body tensed next to his.

"You seemed so sure about this." He teased with a mocking tone he didn't even try to hide.

The way his voice sounded so intimate in the dark and how his warmth surrounded you, were making it hard to stick to the plan. You grew a little hotter under your clothes but you had to go for it. You took a breath in and spoke in a whisper.

"I can see right through your tactics." You said bluntly, still looking at the bed from above to avoid his gaze, knowing how intense it gets sometimes. You were almost proud of the sternness of your tone. "What are your intentions?"

He didn't respond right away, taking time to just look at your expression. In-ho was a meticulous man, he was expecting that question sooner or later from you.

"Wasn't I clear from the start?" In-ho asked calmly, almost innocently, switching his position to lay on his stomach and elbows, never losing sight of you. That position forced you to look up at him, exactly the way he liked it. He was getting too comfortable for someone who was cornered. Seeing how there was no sign of panic or surprise on his face, the previous boost of confidence was starting to slowly diminish in you.

"I think we both know what I mean." You added coldly, letting him know you've had enough of his games. He could feel your patience running thin and he was enjoying it.

Your assumption was true; you were so close to figuring it out but, at the same time, so far away, so clueless about what he really wanted, what he really was capable of. It gave him the freedom of acting anyways he wanted for a little bit.

"Indeed." He said, seeing an opening and moving a hand to the opposite side of your face on the floor, making it look like he was just supporting himself and not caging you. "And that's because you're playing the same games, don't you agree?" He asked smoothly. He watched as you rolled your eyes and looked away to hide your real reaction, taking you longer to respond. In-ho didn't insist, wanting to take his time exposing you bit by bit. When you turned your head back at him to answer, your heart halted, words dying. Your eyes met intimately, his face was even closer than expected.

"It won't work with me." His breath touched your lips. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear to see your face better. He frowned when he caught himself giving in to his instincts, his fingertips caressing your cheek and stopping on your lower lip without thinking.

"But your tries were..." He added, applying pressure on your sensitive skin and moving his lips even closer to yours slowly. "Entertaining, to say the least."

In-ho watched your expression closely, observing the details of your face in the dark. He couldn't get enough that moment but his face didn't betray any sign of the greed that was coursing through him. So he didn't stop there, using the momentum of your shock.

"Was it fun?" He asked, mercilessly but blissfully tormenting and playing you. "To feel like you had the upper hand?" He whispered while his hand descended to the base of your neck.

In-ho looked at your parted lips again, waiting for your answer and not moving away. There was a storm of conflicted thoughts in your mind and the warmth of his palm on your pulse point was not helping you find a good answer in time.

"Answer me." His grip tightened slightly, his tone smooth yet demanding. "And look at me, darling"

You looked up at him and nodded, admitting silently. Finally, you understood what you got yourself into and felt more than exposed. It was frustrating how easily he switched the roles from being the one interrogated to the one asking whatever he wanted.

You shivered at the sight of his subtle smirk. It was nothing like the bright fake smile he offered to the team. One corner of his lips curled upwards while the rest of his expression remained composed. His eyes glinted with icy, calculated sharpness. Finally, you could see him, whoever he was, and not the simple player 001.

In-ho was studying her, thinking about how you weren't aware of the effect you had on him from how well he was concealing it. Still, none of your questions were answered.

"What are you going to-"

"Hush." He murmured against your lips, cutting your words. "Don't wake the others."

In-ho slowly traced your collarbones through the thin material of the shirt with your player number and placed his whole palm on your chest over your racing heart. He paused, just to feel your heart, taking credit for its hectic beating. The silence that surrounded you was not helping either, you could hear every breath, every move, enhancing the intimate feeling so much you had to remind yourself that you were still in the middle of a sick challenge with daily deadly games.

He looked back into your eyes and spoke softly, seeing your inner conflict, wanting to distract you from it. "I've caught you staring at me so many times."

"I was just spacing out." You whispered, not hesitating this time but still telling him another lie.

Even the always calm, rarely out of character In-ho chuckled at that. It was a pleasant, unfiltered but still strange sound.

"Liar." He said while caressing your hair again but making sure to tug gently at the roots as a warning. "You had so many opportunities to push me away since we got under here." He whispered, almost tenderly, meaning it. His eyes were not locked on yours. Was it because he was letting himself think out loud? "But you don't want to do that..." He added, pausing his touches, giving you time to object. But the truth was that your denial ended with him calling you 'darling'. That waited objection never came and In-ho understood.

With that, he allowed himself to take what he wanted. He thought to himself that it was inevitable. His lips found yours with an unexpected gentleness despite his restrained hunger. The hellhole you were trapped in seemed to fade away with the way his lips explored yours. His fingers tightened possessively against your skin as the kiss deepened. His warmth was embracing you blissfully but his tongue was making you dizzy with each breath he was stealing from you.

After what felt like time, bending to his will, In-ho broke the kiss slowly. Even if you didn't say a word, he still covered your lips with his finger for a moment.

"I'm expecting you to still be smart about this and keep it private." He spoke in your ear, an expectation or a warning. "Do that and you'll be safe no matter what."

What you couldn't understand was that this was a hidden promise. If you kept whatever he gave you a secret for yourself, he would pull all the strings to get you alone with him, away from that game.

[bruhstories]

Bet IV

p.1 here & p2. here & p.3 here & p.5 here

mandatory mdni because things will start to get heated up in the following chapters.

summary: you're starting to feel things for the man who hired you to take care of his cat. but he's only being nice. that's it and nothing more. pairing: hwang in-ho/the front man x civilian!reader warnings & content: age gap, afab!reader, slightly detailed descriptions of reader’s background for plot purposes, red text for in-ho, purple for reader, pre 33rd squid game, canon divergent, domestic violence (reader gets slapped by her uncle), veeeery slow burn, reader's dad is dead w/c: 2.1k

a/n: if you would like to be tagged for the next part, please check this post! thank you for reading! please remember that if you asked to be tagged but i can't find your age on your blog, you will NOT be tagged. there will be smut and people dying lol.

"Where were you last night?"

You sighed at your uncle's question, sick and tired of explaining the same thing over and over again. He woke up earlier than he should have, especially for a man who worked night shifts at a warehouse. He did it on purpose, just to have more reasons to pick on you, and you knew that all too well. You lived through that hell for the past ten years.

"I told you, I was cat sitting." 

"Cat sitting." He repeated with derision in his voice. "You need to get a real job."

"I have two real jobs." You reminded him, and it took all your willpower not to raise your voice at him.

"Where's the money, then? Huh?" Your uncle grabbed you by the wrist, twisting it backwards.

"I'm getting paid today!"

"How much?" 

"660,326!" You cried out as his fingernails dug deeper into your skin.

"I better see that money on my nightstand by tomorrow morning." He let go of your wrist. "Keep the change."

How generous, you thought, rubbing the crescent-shaped dents in your skin. At least he didn't hit you, but your small victory crumbled when he turned on his heels, smacking you with the plastic fly swatter in his hand. Once. Twice. Thrice. 

You didn't cry, not in front of him. Never in front of him. 

But when you stepped through the doors of Mr. Hwang's penthouse, the dam broke, and tears streamed down your cheeks. They burned when they touched the cracked, swollen skin, courtesy of your uncle, but you still smiled at the sight of Eunjoo.

Instead of waiting next to the water bowl, like she had done before, the cat jumped on the countertop, her paw gently touching your wrist, where the imprinted dents of his fingernails were still visible. You didn't know why, but Eunjoo's gesture made you cry harder, heavy tears falling onto her plate. 

"Good kitty." You sobbed, daring to pet her, and she allowed it, nuzzling your hand for the first time since you met her.

Without wasting a single moment, you took out your phone to take a selfie of you and Eunjoo, and sent it to In-ho, with the caption 'Making progress!' You thought he might be happy to see her slowly lower her guard and get attached to you.

Who hurt you?

Stupid. How could you be so stupid to send a selfie when your cheek was grazed and puffy? Of course Mr. Hwang would ask about it, he was a nice man, one whose kindness you didn’t think you deserved.

I accidentally walked into a lamppost! Silly, right?

Hoping that the lie would be convincing enough, you carried on with your tasks after eating with Eunjoo, and to your surprise, it worked. It fooled him, but you weren’t proud of yourself in the slightest. 

You need to be more careful next time. If anything happened to you, who would take care of Eunjoo until I return?

It shouldn't have hurt reading his reply, and yet your heart ached. What did you expect? You were an employee, he obviously wanted his cat to be safe, not you. And how could someone like him even care about someone you? You came from different worlds that could never intertwine.

I will.

No thank you, no sad face — you were bitter, even though, rationally, you had no reason to be. Besides, you lied to him in the first place. Maybe if you told him the truth, he would have sent a different reply. It didn't matter. In less than five days he would come back, pay you and never speak to you again. Just like all rich people did.

You cleaned the bathrooms that morning, scrubbing the bath tubs, the toilets, the sinks and the floors until your fingertips stung and your head pounded from the bleach fumes. The vibration of your phone startled you, and you wiped your hands to check the notification.

Have I upset you?

Okay, maybe he did care. Or maybe he was just very observant and noticed your monotonous reply.

Not at all, I just have a lot on my mind. I'm sorry that you worried about me, or that I seemed upset! You're right, I need to be more careful next time.

Please don't take this the wrong way, miss, but I've never met anyone who apologised for making me worry about them. You're quite special.

You did a double take when you read Mr. Hwang's reply, and a wave of remorse crushed your heart. The man was too nice for you to lie to him, but you didn't want him involved in your family affairs, either. There was a strong internal conflict within you, a battle between honesty and dishonesty, but for the time being, dishonesty won, no matter how disgraceful it was.

Choosing not to reply, as time was ticking and the Abduls would be waiting for you soon, you swiftly finished tidying up the bathrooms and put away all the cleaning products so Eunjoo couldn't get to them. With the automatic feeder full, fresh water in the bowl and litter boxes clean, you left.

In all fairness, you didn't know what to reply to his text. No one called you special before, except for that one guy you dated who only wanted to sleep with you, and unfortunately succeeded. It wasn't your proudest moment, but you moved on since then. You stared at the text, typing a reply, then deleting it, then typing again, and you did that for the duration of the entire bus ride back to Guryong Village. By the time you knocked on Ali's door, you still hadn't come up with a response.

What could you even say? Thank you? Likewise? I'm sorry I lied to you, my uncle slapped me with the fly swatter? No. In telling the truth, Mr. Hwang would pity you, perhaps even offer you more money, or food, or clothes, and you didn't want to be pitied. You wanted your hard work to be recognised, not to use your social status or depressing background as an excuse.

Mrs. Abdul couldn't feed you that day, and that was fine. They needed to prioritise themselves, since they didn't live any better than you. Luckily, you saved enough money to buy a kimbap roll for lunch and a bag of rice crackers for dinner and breakfast. Resourcefulness was, perhaps, your strongest point and the reason you survived for so long.

The theme park was packed with tourists and locals, gathering to watch the parade, and you took the time to entertain children and take pictures with them, always on your feet, always working. Back in the dressing room, you took the comically large mascot head off, sweat dripping down your face and neck. Summers were worse — there were body parts you didn't think could sweat.

"Excuse me, Y/N?"

You looked up from your seat to a man around your age, a coworker named Donghyun. He had worked there for a few months or so, but you barely spoke.

"Yes?" You smiled, resting your elbows on the mascot head in your lap.

"We're getting paid today, and a few of us are going for drinks after work. I was wondering if you would like to come." Donghyun avoided looking into your eyes, nervously pinching the soft fur of his own mascot.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, but I have another job I need to get to. Maybe another time."

"Yeah, another time." He nodded. "Hey, could I get your number?"

"Why would you want my number?" You laughed, immediately pursing your lips when Donghyun frowned. "Sorry, yeah, of course I'll give you my number!"

You were such a people pleaser, it was ridiculous, but he seemed to feel better after saving your number in his phone. And there was no harm in making new friends.

"I'll text you later." Donghyun nodded with a smile and left.

What a strange interaction, you thought. It wasn't unusual for men to like you — you were pretty, smart, funny — but you just weren't interested in any of them. In fact, it was their age and maturity that didn't appeal to you. They acted like prepubescent pricks, trying to impress anything with a vagina and a pretty face by being obnoxious and loud and downright irritating.

Older men were different. They had manners, they were respectful and caring. They knew how to dress, knew how to speak to women, kind of like Mr. Hwang.

Oh. 

God, you needed to forcibly remove that thought from your mind before it spiraled into something worse. In-ho probably wanted nothing to do with you — no, he definitely didn’t want anything to do with you. He was just a nice gentleman who happened to not be married. Maybe he had a girlfriend that didn't live with him. Or maybe he worked so much he couldn't afford a relationship. 

Maybe he murdered people.

You laughed at that ridiculous idea — no one in their right mind would do that, especially not Mr. Hwang. He had a cat, for God's sake. Murderers usually killed animals, surely he was just a normal man with a lot on his mind, a workaholic, or a hermit.

Walking into your boss' office, you received your pay and counted the money — 662,326. You got more than you should've, completely forgetting about the pay rise. Your uncle didn't need to know about that, and you took the extra 2,326 and hid it in a small pocket inside your backpack, along with other money you saved. Unbeknownst to him, you secretly opened a savings account in the hopes that one day you would be able to leave and rent your own place, but you only had 1,094,463.60 won, which was barely enough to cover the deposit.

One day. One day you would leave all that abuse behind and have a fresh start. But today was not that day. 

Back in Gangnam-gu, you entered the penthouse earlier than normal and dropped your bag on the floor next to your worn and torn boots. You were hoping they would last through winter because you really couldn't afford a new pair. Eunjoo ran to greet you for the first time, and your heart was filled with joy at the sight of the cat rubbing against your leg. She was growing on you, and you soon realised how much you'd miss her when Mr. Hwang returned. Perhaps he'd let you visit her. 

You turned the TV on and played some songs by ABBA, the sadness of the morning gone, replaced only by joy and optimism. Things would turn out well, you just knew it. You grabbed In-ho's black clothes and placed them in the washing machine, all the while dancing to the beat of Money, Money, Money. It was a song you related to, but you didn't want to find a wealthy man. You just wanted to have enough money to survive without your uncle.

"It's a rich man's world." You sang to Eunjoo, who wiggled her butt, playfully attacking your feet. 

"All the things I could do if I had a little money, kitty. I would get my own apartment, I would donate to orphanages and charities. Oh, don't look at me like that." You frowned when Eunjoo stared at you judgmentally. "I would! There are people out there who need help. But you know what I would get for me? A hotteok! Ah, I would kill for that cinnamony goodness."

You placed the food on the floor and opened the pack of rice crackers. 

"My dad got me a hotteok on my seventh birthday. It was the best birthday ever and- oh my God, I'm talking to a cat." Laughing at the sudden realisation, you shook your head in disbelief. "Well, you're probably my only friend anyway. You don't judge me. You don't care if I'm rich or poor. You just listen and eat. Oh!"

Good evening, Mr. Hwang! Could I ask what your favourite dish is?

You decided that would be your gift. Cooking wasn't your strongest skill, but you were confident in yourself. And who didn't want to come back to a hot home-made meal? Maybe he liked jajangmyeon, or jjigae, or something sweet, like chapssaltteok. The possibilities were endless.

Beef Wellington. Why?

Your heart sunk to your stomach. Beef fucking Wellington? How on Earth could you even afford all the ingredients? The tenderloin itself was probably over 65,000 won. But you were going to do it for him, regardless of what it cost. You felt that Mr. Hwang deserved it. 

I was hoping to cook it for you when you returned. I'll admit, I didn't think it would be such a... fancy dish, but I'm sure I can manage. 

Have you tried it before?

I'm afraid not. Is it good?

Exquisite. You'll have to stay and try it when I return, yes?

Chewing on your bottom lip, your heart skipped a beat at his request. You knew he was just being nice, but you couldn't stop the sudden burning desire to just obey. 

Yeah, I'll stay. 

tagging: @ri1liane @anmert1 @syraxnyra @frshluvcats @lanyia @mettreads @nightdark-dreamdark @bridge-always @lovekm @audrey223 @ririgy @starkeyszn  @hobiesbrownsgf  @thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry @maria-trisha @akiqvq @10hrs26mn @tenzko @okaycharr @politicstanner @moonxknightx @googie-jeon @swthrtbyeol  @mariiestfu  @ratsnestinmyhair @missroro @talia-the-gemini @fortluocha @true-queen-of-mischief @ssa-callahan @bibliophile-yomna @wwastro @heartsforseo @marymun @glads-stuff @starryeddie @kisses2kanao @gagaga167 @l4venderia @scryi @lelisae @twicelover2 @ashtrosstuff @cruel-affair @cdej6 @veragrhm @nikos-a-clown @cchewhaz @pepsicolacoochie @lily-ann-b @red22wolf @nellabear @unabletonotlovesatoru @happiness2112 @waterjewelsspite @luna-looniesnlog @plan3t-plut0 @full-sunnies @houta-habtet-houta @alexisabirdie @riri53 @bluehourss

[robin-munson]

⋆. 𐙚˚ I don’t care that he’s the same age as my father I need him

[457gf]

⋆˙⟡ CONCEPTS .ᐟ . . . coming soon.

⋆˙⟡ HEADCANONS .ᐟ . . . coming soon.

⋆˙⟡ ONESHOTS .ᐟ . . . coming soon.

⋆˙⟡ SERIES .ᐟ . . . coming soon.

[whxre-bxby]

Player 001 (Young-il) x Reader

"Poor Little Y/N..."

My attraction to older men fuels the creativity within me to write

Oneshot - angst, death, blood, silent attraction, romantic feelings Masterlist

When Gi-hun decides to rebel against the guards and marches out of the player's room with his small army, you join them. Innocent, caring little Y/N, who's never held a gun in her life nor seen one before she ended up in these games, bravely sucks up her fear of dying and breaks the rules by exiting with the armed players. Among those are Young-il and other people you trust now.

You go because your fear of losing them and watching not a single one of them return is far worse than your instinctive fear of death.

Lovely, selfless Y/N who holds in her tears and forces her trembling hands to calm down while aiming her weapon at guards and pulling the trigger.

After leaving the stairs on which your group has been ambushed, you make it to a corridor when Gi-hun and Jung-bae leave you behind to advance further into this hellhole of a place.

You don't like splitting up but you can't stop them, so you stay with the group, continuing to help them through the gunfight. But then Young-il shouts that he is going after them and needs two people. Young-il, who's been a trusted member since you all met him after the first game. The man who pulled you into a room with him when the voice announced the number 2 during Round-And-Round, saving you without hesitation.

The man who insisted you take his pillow to hug at night because you couldn't fall asleep without the comfort of clutching something against you. Even though you kindly rejected his offer, he didn't take no for an answer and didn't leave the side of your bed until he was sure you accepted his gift and were as comfortable as you could be in this place.

So of course, you volunteer to go with him, as do two other men. He glances at them before his gaze rests on you a little too long, and you can see the gears of thought turning in his head. His expression isn't so stern and tense anymore and you watch his eyes soften as his head slowly leans back against the wall.

"No...not you, Y/N..." he says, his voice no longer loud, before waving the two men over to him and leaving with them. His words stung you deeply. You didn't understand why he said that to you. Oh, only if you knew he was going to betray the two good players he brought with him...

Brave and dedicated Y/N, who feels it's been to long since she's heard from either Gi-hun's team or Young-il's, so she runs after them, towards the control room. The sound of distant gunshots has your kind little heart racing with adrenaline. The urge to help and protect being stronger than your will to live.

What life would it be if you knew you could have helped, but didn't? What if they all died while you would cowardly wait and hide. You would be tortured by those thoughts forever.

Fast but scared Y/N, who sprints through the cold-coloured hallways and up levels of stairs, past dead guards and over puddles of blood because as long as you haven't found your friends' dead bodies, you have a reason to live and fight on.

Close gunshots no longer scare you. It could be your team firing them. But then you reach the first proper obstacle. The two players who went with Young-il were dead and their bodies pierced by bullets. The sight startles you, but you've seen this before. As long as it's not one of the other three, you can live with it. You have to. So you continue up the stairs, desperately wanting to find someone you know for your comfort and safety.

Shocked yet relieved Y/N who finds Young-il on the other side of the stairs, gun in hand but body slumped on the ground and tracksuit splattered with blood.

Such a good heart you have... immediately running to his side and checking up on him. He seems to be fine, though you can't be sure until you know where he's been hurt.

Silly you, that blood isn't his.

You don't even pay attention to the confused and unexpected look in his eyes. Oh, he did not expect anyone to find him now. He wasn't sure what to say or how to act anymore. Young-il thought his time of pretending to be Player 001 had come to an end. But he had to keep up the act in front of you right? Right?

He couldn't. It all happened so fast, he could just sit back and watch you hug him before you search for a wound to explain the bloodstains. Your face painted in great worry and distress. Your commitment to improving his wellbeing astounded him.

But the dream-like moment didn't last long and was canonically interrupted when footsteps were heard rushing down the other flight of stairs, towards the two of you.

Young-il had no reason to fear them. But you, who at this point were frightened by the very sight of them, made the alarm in your head start ringing. You abruptly turned around, facing them instead of the face you found great comfort in.

Young-il, who suddenly felt his heart drop deep into his gut when he realised the danger you could be in now.

Brave but teary-eyed Y/N, who sits on her heels in front of her friend, attempting to shield him while shouting at them to stop.

Young-il, who panics, wanting to move you behind him while attempting to wave the guards away, or at least not to open fire. But then it happens. The sound of a gunshot echoes through the cold walls and before either of you can process anything, the impact the bullet caused, had your body falling back. You land next to him, head supported against the wall and lock eyes with Young-il. A look of wide-eyed shock takes over his expression and he can only watch the consequences of his actions unfold before him.

Your trembling arms reach out for him, but not for help. You're still trying to save him, but your attempts are weak. Another harsh bang rings in both your ears and that does it. As the second bullet buries itself deep in your flesh, having pierced through vital organs, the light in your eyes vanishes and your body goes limp next to him.

Young-il can't move. You, the only person who's shown this kind of care for him in years, are now dead because of him and his actions. He made you trust him and now he had to watch you pay the price for his mistake. He should have never shown you any attention.

Poor little Y/N... your pretty body has failed you. But it was your heart that killed you.

Yes, I know. Tragic. Sorry. I'm sure you'll survive in other fics.

It's past midnight but fuck it I'm posting it.

[catchastarorten]

—You’ll be with me.

Pairing: Hwang In-ho x wife!fem!reader

Summary: being a previous winner of the games, the memories still haunted you. In-ho knew how bad it could get and he wanted you to feel safe, so he tried his best to give you comfort.

Warnings/content: fluff, comfort, temple kiss, a bit of angst, mentions of reader’s backstory as a player in the games, mentions of trauma, mentions of gunshot, blood, violence, English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, not proofread, sorry!

Word count: 906

The air in the compound always felt thick, the silence lingered in the air. A quiet kind of weight that clung to the walls, the floors, even the people who roamed them. It had been years since you had been a participant in the games, years since you survived when so many hadn’t—where the memories of those days whispered in every corner. And yet, you were back here, year after year. You found yourself with him, In-ho.

You were a survivor. Years ago, you had stood on that blood-streaked ground, faced death at every turn, and somehow clawed your way out alive.

You hadn’t won because you were ruthless, but because life had refused to let you go. He oversaw your games, saw the way you fought but still left a piece of your heart filtered, still kept something kind. It was what drew In-ho to you in the aftermath of it all.

He was the Frontman, a man who wore a mask to the world and had barriers around his heart. But now with you. With you, he softened. He was unguarded, even. You had seen him beneath the cold exterior, you gave him gentleness and a sense of peace he didn’t know he needed, the kind that healed him in ways he didn’t know was possible.

But what you could never get used to was the feeling of knowing. Knowing that beyond these walls, people were fighting for their lives, as you once had. It lingered in the shadows of your mind, surfacing in flashes that made you sweat through the nights or turn cold at the sound of anything resembling a gunshot.

In-ho always noticed before you could hide it. He would find you, pull you into his arms, and remind you with his steady voice and warm embrace that you were safe now.

He understood in ways no one else could, because he too had been shaped by the games, though in a different way.

“You don’t have to watch,” he said to you the first time you expressed interest in sitting with him during one of the games. He was seated on the leather couch in front of the screen, the monitor displaying the players being led into one of the ‘playgrounds.’

His hand rested on the armrest, fingers curling slightly as if restraining himself from reaching for you. “It’s not something you need to see again.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted, stepping closer. “I’ve faced it before.”

In-ho looked at you then, his mask already set aside on the table. His eyes searched yours, and you could see the conflict in them—the worry, the love, the fear that he might be wrong to let you stay.

His expression softened further, and he reached out a hand to you. You took it, and he pulled you close, guiding you to sit beside him. His arm wrapped around you instinctively, his warmth enveloping you as if he could shield you from everything. “Are you sure?” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

You nodded, resting your head on his shoulder. The screens flickered, showing the players, their expressions were hauntingly familiar—those wide eyes, the curious glances, the way they clung onto the hope that they might win the prize money to pay off their debts.

You sat close, knees brushing his as the game unfolded on the screen before you. It didn’t take long for the first shot to ring out. A player dropped to the ground, lifeless, and you felt it then—the cold rush of panic creeping up your spine.

Your fingers twitched, the memories clawing their way back into your mind. The sound of gunfire echoed in your ears, overlapping with screams you could still remember too vividly.

In-ho noticed, his hand was on yours in an instant, fingers firm but gentle as they wrapped around your trembling hand. “You don’t need to put yourself through this,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

You didn’t say anything, but continued watching.

In-ho exhaled slowly, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. He didn’t argue, but he didn’t let go of you either. His presence was steady, like an anchor keeping you from being swept away by the tide of your memories.

As the game progressed, the inevitable deaths began to unfold. You flinched at the sound of gunfire crackling through the speakers, at the way the players dropped one by one, their dreams snuffed out in an instant. Your breath came quicker, your chest tightening as if an iron band was wrapping around your ribs.

In-ho pulled you closer, his other arm wrapping around your shoulders. He pressed you against his chest, his heartbeat steady and calm against your ear. “Breathe,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your forehead. “It’s over now. Just breathe.”

You did as he said, focusing on the warmth of his body, the gentle pressure of his arm around you. The screen in front of you showed the survivors—those who had managed to stumble through the carnage—but you didn’t look at it anymore. You buried your face in In-ho’s chest, letting his scent and his touch ground you in the present.

He never made you feel like you had to be stronger than you were. And you knew he carried his own weight too—his role as the Frontman, the choices he had made—but he never let it interfere with his devotion to you.