#I do so love all of the behind-the-scenes things

[reignpage]

Movie Night

Summary: in which alien!reader asks Gojo to teach her a little something Word Count: 1.8k Warnings: smut, not proofread

Day 7

“What’s wrong, E?”

All fresh from a shower, you and Satoru are sitting in the sofa, watching a movie. He’s finally bought you your own clothes and you’re dressed in a warm jumper and cosy pants. Satoru won’t lie; he’s grieving the pleasure of seeing you drown in his clothes. But you were ecstatic at the sight of the space themed pjs and so he was left with nothing to do but he happy. 

Wrapped under a thick blanket, you’re huddled by his side, clutching his shirt. As with every movie, every night, you ask questions, and he answers as best as he can. He’s insanely grateful that you can understand him when he explains things like what a car is (a moving vehicle) or who Gordon Ramsey is (a famous chef known for being very wrinkly and very angry). It seems that your biggest issue, however, is stringing a full sentence together. 

You’ve been getting much better, accelerating at a rate no human could manage. It’s both impressive and terrifying. 

Right now, you’re tilting your head at a particular scene. Satoru forgot the plot of the money and he really regrets not keeping an eye out for the age rating, because on the screen plays a steamy, kiss scene. 

In fact, ‘kiss’ isn’t even the right word; they’re making out. 

How you both managed to last a week of doing nothing but watch movies without coming across a kiss scene he’ll never know. But the moment’s finally arrived and he is not any more prepared than he was on the first night.

He winces at the sound lips smacking against each other, a blush on his cheeks. A kiss is nothing -- he’s done far more than that, and multiple times. But, for some reason, he’s feeling a little shy. It might have something to do with the fact that you’re staring up at him with your big, curious eyes. 

“What they doing?” You ask. 

Satoru gulps. He’s become painfully aware of how close you are — his arm is trapped between your breasts, just a thin layer separating him from your soft flesh, and, under the blanket, your leg is strung ever so slightly on his thigh. He can smell his shampoo emanating from you with something sweet coursing just under that masculine scent. 

Chuckling uncomfortably, he explains, “They’re kissing.”

“Why?”

He has half a mind to turn the TV off and declare an earlier bedtime, but you look so innocent he feels bad that he was thinking of something indecent. He’s your friend. He can’t prey on you and take advantage of your reliance on him. Plus, how would a kiss between two people from different intergalactic species even work?

Would it be the same? Or does it lead to pregnancy straight away? What if you lay eggs in his mouth? What if he lays eggs in your mouth?

Composing himself, he searches for the right words. “It’s something people do to express their love for each other, I guess. Well, not all the time, actually. Sometimes it’s just for pleasure.”

“Pleasure?”

Why, oh, why did you have to focus on that one word? 

And why on everything that is good in this world is this scene so long?

“It means to feel good.”

The hand clutching his shirt flattens out until it’s feeling the hard planes of his chest and absorbing the vibrations of his heartbeat. You drum your fingers at the same pace, smiling softly. The heat of your hand, of your entire body, is setting his skin alight. Suddenly, it’s too hot under the blanket, there isn’t enough room or air, and he needs to go but he can’t bear to. 

Batting your lashes, you inquire, “How to make pleasure, Toru? How kiss feel good?”

Brushing a lock of hair behind your ear, he corrects you, “It’s, ‘how does kissing make you feel good’, E. Try again for me?”

You taste the words, lips stretching to practice the movement before you parrot back perfectly, “Tell me how kissing makes you feel good, Toru.”

Oh, fuck. 

Why did he make you repeat it in perfect Japanese? Why did he have to use this very moment as a learning opportunity? 

Curse his perfect teaching instincts!

He’s about to shrug you off, using sleepiness as an excuse to retreat, but then you’re leaning even closer, licking your lips and eyeing his. Warmth is spreading through his body, circulating in one particular area and he’s hoping you don’t move your leg any higher otherwise this will turn into a completely different conversation and he’s not certain he could survive giving you an anatomy lesson without getting a nosebleed. 

Licking his own lips, he grazes your cheek with his fingers. The skin he touches glows the very faintest hint of blue. He’s reeling. Up till now, he thought that your skin glows when you’re sleeping, but apparently you also glow when you’re being touched. But this isn’t the first time he’s touched you. 

Was it because before he was trying very, very hard not to stare?

He doesn’t know, and regardless, he can’t stop touching you. Satoru presses on your adorable cheeks to watch it light up, the way his is flushing red. Whispering, he asserts, “I can’t tell you how kissing feels, E.” 

Your hand presses harder against his chest, fingers splaying across the expanse. Subconsciously, he juts it out just a little. And with the most seductive voice, you demand, “Show me then, Toru. Make me feel good?”

Oh, and when you ask like that, how could anyone ever resist you?

There’s a tantalising closeness between you, just a hairsbreadth away from touching. When he finally closes that minuscule gap, a purr like thrum echoes through you. He kisses you, sweet and gentle, simply pressing his lips against yours. There’s nothing human about this, not with the invigorating taste of you, the scalding feel of your skin, and impossible softness of your body on his. 

“This is a kiss?” You mumble.

Chuckling, he says, “No, E. This is.”

With one hand holding the back of your neck, he sucks your bottom lip, unable to help himself from deepening the kiss. You gasp into his mouth, and he dives his tongue in, meeting yours. He knows he should slow down, should let you adjust to a friendly peck before he takes more than you can give, but you taste so good and it’s like he’s drunk. 

There’s a force, a gravitation pull drawing him in. He can’t resist it, can’t fight it, he isn’t even trying. 

You pull back in shock. 

Satoru chases after you, dragging you back in. He kisses you again. Groaning into your mouth, he slides a hand down to your leg, rising up your thigh. You jolt, a shiver running through your body. That electrifying purring hums in the air again and he’s smiling, hand rising and rising until he’s curving against your ass and carrying you over his thighs.

“This feels... I feel...,” you whimper, at a loss for words. 

Squeezing your thighs, he coos, “It’s alright, sweet thing. I’ve got you. You wanted to learn pleasure, right? Who better to teach you than Toru, hmm?”

You shiver again when he whispers that against your neck, nose skimming your jaw and lips curling. He’s inhaling deeply, eyes fluttering close at the weight of your body pressing down on him and your addictive scent. 

He can’t tell if this is all you or if it’s an alien thing, but he doesn’t care. Not in this moment, not when your hips are churning as he sucks at your neck, laying burning kisses against your skin, and watching the blue light dance under your skin. 

“Oh, E,” he sighs. “Are you grinding on me, baby? You want more than just a kiss, is that it? My greedy, greedygirl.”

When your clothed core rubs just right against his throbbing length, you throw your head back, that purring noise a hiss and it vibrates against his cheek as he listens to your rapid heartbeat. He can feel how wet you are; you’re soaking through your panties and pyjama bottoms.

Satoru’s growing dizzy.

One hand guides your hips to gyrate on him whilst the other clutches your throat to pull your lips back to his. Satoru knows he should stop now that he’s already taught you what you asked for, but he can’t. He just can’t. The thrill of going further, of testing your, and his, limits is too much for one man to resist. Even if that man is the strongest sorcerer in the world, even if not a whole gaggle of curses could pose a threat to him. 

“Toru!”

He thrusts upwards the same time he tugs you down and the elongated moan that leaves you, hips stuttering and hands frantically searching for purchase on his broad shoulders, leaves him feeling lightheaded. “That’s it, E. Take what you need.”

Your eyes are flashing blue, a darker hue than his own, and he’s amazed. Everything about you is incredible, like you were created to be his temptation, to be his undoing. Whether aliens have souls or not, he doesn’t know, but he does know that if you did, his and yours would be the same, all blue and perfect. 

Laughing, he leans back, hands simply resting on your thighs as you ride out your orgasm, shocked eyes pleading for explanation, for reason but finding none in his. That purring gets louder and louder, the vibrations stronger now and they’re flowing straight from your soaked pussy and right onto his cock. 

“Oh shit!” Satoru groans, nails digging suddenly. Within seconds, he’s cumming in his boxers, hot cream flooding his underwear from inside at the same time your wetness seeps through on top. “Jesus, E! That’s fucking intense, what the hell.”

He’s panting, eyes shut tightly as he keeps grinding your hips on his cock. 

You slump onto him just as he falls back. You’re completely depleted of energy, and he knows exactly what you’re feeling. Rubbing your back, he presses a kiss to your hair, muttering ‘well done’ and ‘good job’. 

“How was that for pleasure?”

Smacking his chest, you mumble a complaint. “Toru mean.”

He laughs agains.

“Sorry, E. You were just too cute.”

You raise your head, eyes bleary and fluttering shut. You meet his gaze, shaky fingers reaching for his lips and tracing them, all sore and pink, like you’re amazed at him the way he is at you. “Thank you. Kissing is nice.”

“We did a little more than just kissing, E. But sure, you’re welcome,” he chuckles. 

Eventually, you both fall asleep in each other’s arms right there on the sofa, ‘Are You Still Watching’ filling the TV screen and not the movie he can’t even remember the name of, drying cum posing a problem he’ll have to deal with in the morning.

He dreams of sapphire streaks in the air, of giant balls of fire, and an angel descending with its arms outstretched. And he hopes he never wakes up.

[bread-crum206]

A Game of Hearts

Chapter 16: A Moment of Vulnerability

Summary: Y/N’s father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?

previous | 16 | next

The hum of the television filled the room, but it felt distant now, muted by the weight of the silence that hung between you and In-ho. The usual tension between you had softened, though not gone—something unspoken shifted between you, a quiet understanding that seemed to stretch the air around you. Neither of you spoke, and for a fleeting moment, the world beyond the four walls of this office seemed to disappear. It was just the two of you, in this quiet space, trying to find some balance.

You glanced at In-ho, his eyes fixed on the screen, but his posture had changed. He wasn’t just the cold, calculated man who orchestrated everything from behind the scenes. He was something else in this moment—something human, something raw. The wall that usually kept everyone at arm’s length was, for the first time, starting to crack.

There was still so much you didn’t know about him, but somehow, in this quiet moment, it didn’t seem so important. What mattered was the way he had spoken—how he’d opened up just a little. You could sense the weight of everything he was carrying, and it tugged at something inside you, a need to reach out, to do something, anything, to ease the burden he bore alone.

In-ho had been speaking about the past—how he had gotten involved with the games, about his wife and child—and there was a heaviness in his voice that made the room feel impossibly still. His words seemed to carry more than just a story; they carried the soul-crushing grief of a man who had lost everything.

“I went to her after I won,” he said quietly, his eyes not meeting yours as he continued. “I thought… I thought I could save her. But when I got there, she was gone. She and the baby… both dead.”

His voice was flat, like he had said it a hundred times, but you could hear the breaking in the words. The raw, bleeding pain he had buried deep down for so long was now seeping through the cracks of his carefully maintained mask. You could almost feel the grief in the room, the weight of his loss pressing in around you.

You couldn’t just sit there anymore, couldn’t pretend to be a passive observer to his pain. You didn’t know what to say. How could you say anything? So, instead, you moved closer, without thinking. You reached out, your hand hovering for a brief second before you gently placed it over his. His hand, clenched tightly in his lap, relaxed at your touch, as though your presence had broken through some invisible barrier.

In-ho’s eyes flicked to you, but he didn’t pull away. He didn’t speak either. His hand was warm beneath yours, and in that small moment of contact, you both seemed to share something that no words could express. It was a simple gesture—one that could have been easily overlooked—but it was everything in that moment. A connection. A silent offering.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. It was all you could offer, but the words felt inadequate, meaningless in the face of the depth of his pain. Yet, it felt important to say. To acknowledge the suffering he had carried for so long.

In-ho didn’t pull his hand away, but he didn’t respond either. He just let it sit there, the warmth of your hand grounding him in a way that, perhaps, nothing else had in years. The silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t as suffocating as before. There was a soft kind of understanding in it now.

“The games,” he said, his voice almost a whisper, “they were never about the money. Not really. I… I did it to survive. But I thought… I thought I could change things. That I could make it right. But there’s no going back. There’s nothing left.”

The pain in his voice was palpable, raw. You could see it in the way his fingers curled slightly beneath yours, as if he was trying to hold onto something—anything—that could anchor him to this world.

You didn’t know what to say next, or if anything could make it better. But you stayed there, your hand on his, offering what little comfort you could. You had no answers, no way to fix the mess of his life, but in this small moment of connection, maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe the only thing that mattered was that he wasn’t alone in it.

In-ho’s gaze flickered to yours again, just for a second. His expression was unreadable, but the look in his eyes… it was different now. Less guarded, less distant.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said quietly, almost as though he were speaking to himself. “I’m used to it.”

The words stung, but you could see the truth in them. He had been living with this weight for so long, he had forgotten what it felt like to have it acknowledged by someone else. To be seen, even for just a moment, for the man that he was and not the figure he projected to the world.

“I’m here,” you said softly, your hand still resting on his. “You don’t have to carry this alone.”

In-ho’s hand twitched beneath yours, and for a heartbeat, he seemed to consider something. Then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, his fingers shifted, curling gently around yours, locking into place. The touch was tentative, almost fragile, but it was there.

For the briefest of moments, it felt like the whole world stopped—like the weight of everything that had come before was suspended in the air, and for once, there was nothing but this connection between you both.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes still fixed on your joined hands. “I don’t know how to let anyone in.”

You didn’t know how to answer that, but you didn’t have to. Instead, you squeezed his hand gently, offering him what little reassurance you could. You didn’t need to fix him. You didn’t need to have the answers. All you needed to do was be here, in this moment, with him.

And for the first time, you didn’t feel like you were just a pawn in the game. You were something else. Something real.

The room grew quieter as the two of you sat in silence, the weight of everything unspoken between you, but this time, the silence wasn’t suffocating. It was different. It was a kind of understanding. A fragile, quiet truce.

And in that moment, it was enough.

———————

Chapter 16!! Sorry for posting so late! :(( I’ve been super busy with work and school lol.. anyways, as always lemme know what you think and thank you! :)

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[meanbossart]

Sorry if you've already answered this question before, but how did DU Drow react when Astarion was finally free from Cazador? Did he try to comfort him, or maybe they celebrated it somehow or never talked about that? Or would the Drow like to strangle Kazador with his own hands instead?

If you mean the immediate aftermath, there isn't much, if anything, that sets it apart from how it goes in-game. I do understand why people wish there were more options in how to react during Astarion's big moment, maybe they have more reactive Tavs - but DU drow would absolutely just let something like that breathe. No words of comfort, no shows of affection- he stands back, he stays quiet, and when Astarion says he wants to go, they go. He's as eager to leave as he is and to put this behind the both of them.

Thing is, that at the end of the day, there is no amount of words that could adequately explain to DU drow what his partner went through. Like, sure, he holds nothing but contempt towards Cazador and understands that what Astarion went through was horrific, but he has to filter all of it through the much, much narrower understanding that he himself has of pain, hopelessness, and most of all, time.

For him, at least in that moment, what is done is done and the important thing is that it happen anymore. It's simple and it's not worth lingering on - his feelings about Astarion's situation become more complex later, but at that point Cazador is just yet another foe whom he met and felled within the same hour, and not his two-hundred-year-spamming tormentor.

The point is, there isn't really any emotional high here besides what we see during the cemetery scene (which in their case, doesn't even end in sex) and there certainly isn't any celebration, either.

That all being said, I still think its sweet. He might be doing it with a degree of aloofness, but DU drow is still choosing to give Astarion space instead of bombarding him with love and comfort right off the bat. He has a lot of moments like these, where despite being borderline overbearing at times he recognizes when he's ill-equipped to address something.

Now, moving a little ahead:

I really like that the game gives you these dialogue options here, and they were kind of formative in DU drow's characterization, especially in regards to their relationship. Discussing Cazador's crimes and the sacrifices Astarion has had to make for his own freedom is just sad. It's uncomfortable. It's quitter talk. On the other hand, immediately setting up a new goal-post, giving Astarion something to look forward to and that certainly he can provide, on the other hand, is so much easier.

PICTURED ABOVE: Sentences that go over DU drow's head faster than you can say "bootstrapper".

And speaking of formative and tone-deafness, here's another dialogue option that truly set in stone for me the type of turbulent emotional journey this character (and Astarion by extension) was about to go through from here on out.

I love that they put that here. That your character can be be tempted with a line that is, on the surface, so sweet, but with this underlying implication that you still think of Astarion as somehow lesser or incapable by default - like he hasn't been around for so much longer and been through so much more than yourself in almost every case.

...OR you just didn't express yourself well.

But in DU drow case, that is exactly what he means. that Astarion doesn't need all that power because he has him now. He wants to be his protector. He wants for Astarion to depend on him.

In his Bhaalist plotline, this devotion takes a very ugly and possessive form. In DU Drow 1.0 storyline, on the other hand, it is just... A perception that has to be slowly and painfully broken down - that Astarion doesn't need to be handled with children's gloves, or constantly protected and provided for - that he in fact doesn't need a partner to look after him, and how that doesn't immediately translate to not wanting companionship.

I can only hope ANE has a lot of moments that get this flip of dynamic across with all its caveats and addendums. After all, this is kind of a bed Astarion has made for himself.

BUT, that comes later. Right now Astarion just has to smile-and-nod while his beloved fresh-faced twunk says some truly goofy shit.

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

Ooh so i was watching "Sawdes" And i thought what if desi reader and Lando watch that movie together and she explains all the small details to him, like the caste system and how rigid it was, and how it actually was in the villages and Lando's like very curious to know about India.

swades ⊹.˚🪞🕯️♡

ᡣ𐭩 ln x desi!reader ✬

ᡣ𐭩 fluff ✬

masterlist ☾☼

lando was sprawled out on the couch, legs stretched comfortably over the ottoman, a bowl of popcorn precariously balanced on his lap. the tv flickered with the opening credits of "swades," the soothing hum of the background score filling the cozy living room.

"so, what's this one about again?" lando asked, glancing at you with genuine curiosity.

you settle next to him, tucking your feet in under you. "it's a movie about this indian guy who works for nasa and then goes back to his roots and finds a need to give back to his community."

lando inclines his head. "sounds deep."

you smiled. "it is, but it's also very beautiful and so real."

as the movie started, you noticed lando's brows furrow slightly during the scenes that showed mohan—the protagonist—returning to his village. the dusty roads, the humble huts, and the villagers carrying out their daily routines seemed to intrigue him.

"wait, why's he sitting on the ground?" lando asked during a pivotal scene where a villager refused to sit on the same level as mohan.

you stopped the movie and turned to face him. "that's actually a huge part of india's history—the caste system. it's a strict social hierarchy that has been around for thousands of years. people were divided into different groups based on their jobs, and it determined where they could live, what they could do, and even who they could talk to."

lando's eyes widened. "seriously? that's awful. is it still like that now?"

"not officially," you said, picking at a stray thread on your sweater. "the indian government banned caste discrimination years ago, but in rural areas… it's complicated. traditions and mindsets don't change overnight."

he nodded slowly, digesting your words. "so that's why the guy didn't sit on the bench. he's… lower caste?"

"exactly," you said. "he probably grows up thinking he's not good enough for someone like mohan, who's educated and from the city. it's just sad."

lando sat back, scratching his head. "man, we brits really left a mess behind, huh?"

you snorted, unable to hold in the laugh that had begun to rise. "a bit of an understatement there, lando."

he grinned sheepishly. "alright, alright, point taken. i’ll add it to the list of things i’m apologizing for. right under the tea tax."

the movie continued, and you found yourself explaining more details to lando—how arranged marriages worked in rural India, why electricity and running water were still luxuries in many villages, and the deep cultural significance of festivals like dussehra. lando hung onto every word, his questions reflecting genuine interest.

"it's crazy to think about," he said during intermission. "like, i took so much stuff for granted-growing up—clean water, electricity, just even … being treated as an equal. and then this guy's coming to alter the way an entire village lives its life. inspiring,"

you smiled at him, a warmth spreading through your chest. "that's why i love this movie. it's not just a story; it's a reminder of where we come from and how much work there's still left to do."

"also a reminder that my ancestors were the worst," lando added, giving you a mock-serious look. "you're never letting me live this down, are you?"

"nope," you said, popping a piece of popcorn into your mouth. "you're stuck with me and my history lessons."

By the time the credits rolled, lando was wiping at his eyes, laughing sheepishly when you caught him. "alright, i'll admit… that hit harder than i expected."

you chuckled, leaning into his side. "told you it's a masterpiece."

he looked down at you, a thoughtful expression on his face. "you'll take me there one day, right? to india? i want to see it for myself."

your heart swelled at his sincerity. "absolutely. but only if you're ready for a sensory overload-the crowds, the colours, the chaos."

lando grinned. "bring it on. as long as i've got you to explain everything."

you smiled, reaching for his hand. "always."

you then realized just how lucky you were-to share a piece of your world with someone who cared enough to listen, to learn, and to embrace it wholeheartedly.

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

i tried to add a little humour in this, but like, the movie itself is really serious, so i kept the fic a little serious too. i hope you like it! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @greantii ; @anamiad00msday ; @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @justaf1girl ; @peterholland04 ; @phobiccneel ; @winkev1

[monsterfucker-lisa-swallows]

I nearly cried reading the article yesterday. The things Neil did to those poor women...It just absolutely drains all the air of the room. It really is a grueling read and I hope the victims get everything they need to be able to have happy healthy lives going forward.

I never anticipated that it would be this. The Ocean at the End of the Lane and the Graveyard Book were very important to me as a teenager because I was a victim and those books just felt so visceral to me. And the person who wrote them is a monster who, instead of dealing with the trauma he got from an abusive Scientologist father, decided to abuse people so he could get off. He fully knew what he was doing was rape, and he cannot hide behind the "neurodivergent" excuse because it's such a fucking insult to those of us who are autistic.

His son witnessed some of that. His very VERY young son was in the room when some of this took place and even was somewhat encouraged by neil to act as if one of these women was a slave even if neil kind of joked it off at the time. I hope he gets some sort of intervention, because as someone with an abusive father figure I know that sons are frequently turned against their mothers when things like this come to light (my stepfather managed to turn his sons - my halfbrothers - against all the women in my family). He needs some healthy modeling and child therapy to help unpack any warped ideas neil gave him about women.

And that brings me to Amanda. I have come to the conclusion that yes she was entirely negligent because she has known for at least a few years about some of this. I do not believe, based on the article, that she knew the extent until very very recently. It seems as though she had been trying to get him to stop and that their marriage was struggling for about a decade because of it. I believe she loved him and thought she could get him to change, which was especially complicated by the fact that they had a young child together and that if she ever aired her grievances against them she'd be the bad guy. Remember, this is the word of Amanda Palmer, one of the internet's biggest punching bags, against beloved internet darling Neil Gaiman. She knew there was no winning and that she'd come off like a vindictive harpy.

Remember in 2020 when everyone was assuming she was a narcissist because of Neil's goodreads account? in light of the article saying their marriage suffered since 2014 and that they separated at the time that this drama happened, it reads almost like a coordinated smear campaign with plausible deniability. Almost like he was thinking ahead to the possibility that she could release this information about him so he had to get in front of it to make her look narcissistic while having plausible deniability to say "oh I was just hacked." (I'm not going to say I told you so even though back then I totally did say to maybe lay off them because we didn't know what was going on behind the scenes. Amanda Palmer is not perfect and has done and said things that I personally don't agree with, but the hatred has always seemed particularly vitriolic in a way usually reserved for female celebrities.)

Not saying at all that there is no culpability and that she didn't contribute to endangering these women (we still don't have her side of the story though no sources have placed blame on her as of yet), but the article clearly stated that she had told Neil to stay away from the most recent victim and that she was horrified when she found out the extent of what had happened. I truly think she wanted to believe that he wouldn't do it if she asked, even as negligent as that last bit of hope may have made her. I say all this to remind people once again to put the most blame on the man who is actually perpetrating these crimes and not to just throw unfounded vitriol at the wife, since my familiarity with these kinds of cases suggests the angry mob often looks for reasons to hate the woman even more than the man. The article says that the divorce left her with no money and that she's living with her parents now. When they met she was an artist with no real wealth and he was a much older man with wealth and fame. He is the one who put her in this position and I would wager he was using her (and the open marriage they once had) as cover and plausible deniability for any accusations levied against him. Just something to think about until we get her side, which we may not get because she knows how the public reacts to her and because, crucially, she has a son with him and doesn't want to put him through that kind of trauma. We don't even know what Neil may have put her through during their marriage, though we know the kind of appetites he has for women.

But again, these women are so brave for coming forward to tell their stories. They have seen years of women being raked over the coals for suggesting well-liked famous men have preyed on them, yet they told their stories anyway. I know how frightening that is. I really, truly hope that they can find peace now.

I wish people would understand that it is actually a good thing when allegations of sexual misconduct are thoroughly investigated, leaving no stone unturned, and that most survivors of sexual assault who've come forward are not lucky enough to have people take their story seriously enough to look into it in good faith, verify it, and post a long, exhaustively researched researched article informing everyone that they're telling the truth.

[muddyorbsblr]

feels like mine pt3

See my full list of works here!

Summary: With your head still reeling from your supposedly vivid dream, your husband offers a tempting distraction

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warning/s: 18+ | smut (minors & pearl clutchers, do not try me I am not the one); oral (f receiving); talks of death [let me know if I missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: a plot twist at the end; special guest star Loki's back

Dick-tionary (aka smut guide): smut starts at "Let me help you take your mind off it" and ends at "All better, sweetheart?"

That must be one hell of a dream if you still can't remember literally anything about this life, you thought to yourself, having one hell of a migraine from trying to reacclimatize to your life after last night's dream. It was strange; you'd had particularly jarring dreams before, of course. But they'd always come in fragments, no matter how vivid and real your experiences felt.

And you always prided yourself that you could recognize that you were in a dream, sometimes even wake yourself up if the scene was getting particularly stressful or terrifying.

But your dreams never came with years worth of lived experience. And they didn't stick with you as vividly and as detailed as this did. Where fragments could be connected together so perfectly you could have sworn they were memories.

The hot water of the shower brought you to another unsettling thought. Even if your mind was still adjusting back to your reality, you would think that your body wouldn't have an issue. That muscle memory would kick in and know how to handle something as simple as operating your home's luxurious shower system.

Had something happened to you? Did you lose your memories and your mind put in place that elaborate dream where you and your husband didn't even move in the same social circles, let alone cross paths long enough to have met and fallen in love and built this life together?

The sound of the shower door opening pulled you out of your thoughts entirely, your pulse quickening when Tom placed his hands on your hips, pressing his naked body to yours. He wrapped his arms around you, hands now splayed over your stomach and your upper thigh as he kissed a trail from behind your ear down your neck.

"You're so tense, my darling," he murmured against your skin. "Is your dream still haunting you?"

"I'm having a hard time shaking it off," you confessed, tilting your head to the side and allowing him more access to your neck. When he kissed that especially sensitive spot between your neck and shoulder, letting out a soft groan against your skin, you bit your lip to stifle your reaction. A whiny little whimper still slipped out, causing him to press against you even harder.

"Let me help you take your mind off it, my love," he offered, kissing along your jaw and turning your head so he could capture your lips in a heated kiss.

He wrapped his arm around you, holding you securely against him before your knees weakened from him licking past your lips, groaning into your mouth when his tongue met yours. You held on to him just as tight, your hands making contact with slick, toned skin as your husband's hands roamed your body. One hand making its way to cup your breast, capturing your nipple between his fingers, and the other hand traveling lower, teasingly running his fingers up and down your slit.

Well if he wants to help me forget, who am I to say no? Suddenly all your doubts took the furthest possible backseat in your mind and you lost yourself in the moment. In your husband and the increasingly frantic way he moved with you.

You whimpered against his lips, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when his fingers met your clit, tracing tight circles above the bundle of nerves and causing you to grow even wetter between your legs.

He broke the kiss, letting out a shuddering exhale of your name as he moved to press you against the marble wall. "I've missed you so much." His words were rushed, like he couldn't say them fast enough while he feverishly kissed his way down your neck and starting a descent that had you delirious, your mind flooding with memories of salacious trysts in the shower just like this.

As if your limbs had a mind of their own, your hands moved upwards, your fingers closing around the handlebar that was placed too high for anything other than precisely this purpose. Once Tom had sunk to his knees, you raised your leg to place your thigh on his shoulder. It was a well-choreographed dance you knew the steps to far too well.

Steps you'd done a hundred times over. Steps that you knew in your very soul. Even if that elaborate dream still lingered just behind the forefront of your mind, this you knew.

Didn't you?

Your husband gave you no time to mull over the thought any further, your sharp moan of his name piercing through the white noise of the shower once his lips closed around your clit. You gripped at the handlebar tighter, doing your damnedest to keep yourself upright while he alternated between desperate, feverish open-mouthed kisses and slow, savoring licks.

It didn't take long before he brought you to orgasm, your hips jerking against his mouth as he all too gladly lapped up every wave of your release. Your arms struggled to hold on, and he felt it in the subtle shuddering of your body that he was quick to right himself back up on his feet, placing his hands on your hips to hold you up right as you let go.

"All better, sweetheart?" he asked with a teasing smirk, resting his forehead on yours, his thumbs stroking along your skin as you tried to even out your heavy breathing.

You could only manage to nod, your face breaking out in a stupidly blissful grin as you reached over to turn the shower off. "Much better," you said with a contented sigh. "Though I wouldn't be opposed to a little more…distraction later."

He broke out into a hoarse laugh, the sound almost foreign as it came out strained. As if his throat was too hoarse to do it naturally. As if he'd forgotten how to do it, even. "Insatiable as ever," he rasped, capturing your lips in a languorous kiss that had you both groaning into each others mouths when your tongues met, and you could taste yourself on him. "Unfortunately I do have a few calls I must attend to. As do you."

There wasn't really much room for you to protest, the logical and much less horny side of your brain seeing his reasoning all too quickly. Annoyingly too quickly, even.

And the rest of you was far too distracted, your heart melting and your stomach breaking out into butterflies at the tender way he led you out of the shower, wrapping a freshly warmed towel around you before grabbing one for himself. You couldn't help but stop and enjoy the view, watching him go through the dresser with his muscles flexing and relaxing at every minute movement.

You nearly broke into a pout when he eventually slipped a shirt over his head, had it not been for more memories flooding into your mind, this time reminding you which drawers were yours. Just as you were doing up the buttons of the dress you'd chosen, Tom walked over to you, moving your hands away with a soft smile on his face as he fastened the buttons himself.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss over your heart before he did the last button up, then kissed your lips. "I'll see you downstairs, darling. I love you."

"I love you, too."

Just before he walked out the door, he turned to you one last time. "Oh, and before I forget, I found your phone completely drained last night. I have it charging in our study."

The last thing Tom thought he would see when he entered the study was Loki, standing by his desk with an annoyingly knowing smirk on his face. "This is where I leave you, Thomas. You should never have to hear from me again after today."

He walked over to the god, his hand outstretched. "Thank you. For giving me a second life with her. I know it's bizarre and I know that she's not the same Y/N, but for a moment up there, I could have sworn that--" The words nearly felt sacrilegious to say out loud. "I could have sworn that she was…becoming her?"

"Ah, yes…" That wasn't the reaction he expected from the god. Then again, nothing that had happened the last few days was something he expected. Starting with the actual existence of said god in the first place. "Consider it my parting gift."

"What do you mean?"

"I placed a final enchantment on her, to help her acclimate to your universe. Her body will start to remember how to navigate your world, your home. Her mind will know enough for her to return to her work with only a slight learning curve to stand in her way. I realized rather quickly that it would not be fair for me to simply leave her here and expect her to adjust fully into this new life she's now expected to live, and you can only help her so much before her ever inquisitive mind begins to question if her previous life was more than just a vivid dream. The least I could do for her was to figuratively hold her hand through the first steps."

Loki's revelation gave Tom a twisted sense of relief. And hope. That this enchantment would help him to avoid the questions that would inevitably fill him with the guilt of how much he was hiding from you. And perhaps your former life in that other universe would simply remain the remnants of an excruciatingly detailed dream.

He knew he would certainly move the heavens and the earth again just to ensure that your life here, with him, was leagues better than the one you'd left behind. The one you were taken from.

"The final part about this enchantment…I think you'll rather enjoy this," the god said, once again that knowing smirk returning to his face. "These moments of remembrance for her…are unlocked by pleasure. Glean from that what you will. And take care of her."

With that, the god disappeared in a flash of green, as quickly as he'd arrived. Not even a trace of him to be left behind.

It wasn't long before his mind wandered to your time together in the shower, a smile of his own now stretching across his face as he mulled over the details of the enchantment. "By pleasure," he murmured.

He was just about to go back upstairs, deciding that any calls that he had pending for today could very well wait, when the door opened and you peeked your head inside. Once your gaze met his, your eyes glazed over in an instant, the corners of your mouth tugging into a smile, undoubtedly also remembering what had just transpired between you two upstairs.

"You uhh…mentioned my phone was in here," you said, starting to make your way to the other side of your shared study, to your desk. He stepped in front of you, your smile growing wider when he circled his arms around your waist, pulling you towards him instead. "Thought you said we have calls to attend to today," you teased, letting out a giggle just before he pressed his lips to yours.

Tom's only response was to once again have you pressed to the wall, fingers deftly undoing the buttons on the bottom half of your dress before lifting you up and wrapping your legs around him. "All that can wait," he mumbled, lips latching on to your neck and relishing in how you whimpered from his attentions and squirmed in his hold as he started to shuffle his pants down his legs.

There was barely any light illuminating Loki's workroom when he returned to Asgard, the urn containing your late variant's ashes cradled in his arms. Ultimately, he knew that he'd done the right thing in pulling you out of your life of relative obscurity, where it simply was not written in fate's design for you to ever have crossed paths with his variant, let alone have the remotest chance of getting to live out the romance that your souls were quite literally designed for.

And as for Tom, the god knew hauntingly well what happens to iterations of him that would have you taken from them far sooner than either of you ever deserved. He knew how devastating it would be for the mortal man to have to throw out the plans of what life he planned to share with you.

He knew. Because he was living in that miserable reality. "I would rip this multiverse apart to have you with me again," he said in the dark silence, walking over to a display with seven bases, four of which were empty.

The remaining three displayed urns, approximately the same size as the one he held in his arms. He placed the urn of your recently deceased variant on the very center base, pressing his lips to the cold marble.

"Soon, my love, we will be together again."

A/N: Not me lowkey yelling at myself like "Goddammit Ally this entire story was just supposed to be a silly lil thing about the Centrum ad, why'd you let it get like this?" 🤪

Also I'm not sure when I'll get around to building off of the story that I 100% teased at the end there, since right now it's barely even in the concept phase, but there's an idea there…somewhere. 🫢

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie

@superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover @dryyoursaltyoceantears @herdetectivetheorist @alexakeyloveloki @lulubelle814

[ithilien-writes]

yaaay! my prompt is choosing joy verse wedding planning (even if it’s just your thoughts on the roles everyone takes on!) ♥️♥️

Okay, this is probably not at all what you were envisioning, but I hope you still like it!! Thank you for the prompt! 💜💜

(to anyone reading: these were meant to be quick scenes to help unblock me so please take them in that spirit. ie. this was written really quickly and without much editing. feel free to send me some more!!

---

Best Laid Plans [Buck/Eddie (Buck & Maddie), G, ~900 words]

Buck is not being a bridezilla, okay? Or groomzilla? Whatever. He's not. No matter what Chim says about it. Buck is just being... particular. So that everything will be perfect. Eddie deserves that. Buck deserves that. So he's just- he's taking the wedding planning seriously, that's all.

"I'm just saying, why does he always have to do it here?" he can hear Chim saying in the other room, followed by a distinctly Maddie-sounding huff that's part fond and part exasperated.

Whatever she says in response, it's too low for Buck to hear, but when she comes back into the kitchen she's alone and he can hear the front door opening and then closing again. Buck can't help but wince a little in apology.

"Sorry," he says. "I didn't mean to drive Chim out of his own house."

But Maddie waves him off, one hand resting on her now very pregnant stomach.

"It's not you," she says, too forgiving of Buck, as always. "He's just stressed about the baby coming so soon. I sent him to run some errands; it's fine."

She comes around the island to peer over his shoulder at the three invitation samples currently spread out in front of him and hums thoughtfully.

"I like the cream with the blue font," she says. "The gold looks to fancy and the grey's a little boring."

"Right?" Buck agrees, probably a little too emphatically, as he twists around to look at her. When he sees her smile though, it makes him feel a little like he's twelve years old again, and the sudden surge of love that wells up in him almost takes him by surprise, if only just in it's ferocity.

"That's uh. That's what I was saying," he adds lamely, after a moment.

Maddie's smile gets a little brighter and she rests a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm so happy for you," she says, getting a little teary the way she seems to be at the drop of a hat these days. "You know that, right?"

"I know," Buck tells her, feeling his own throat tighten a little around the words.

Maddie sniffles and then rolls her eyes at herself.

"God sorry," she says. "Third trimester. I've already cried three times today. This baby needs to hurry up already."

Buck laughs with her, picking up their chosen invitation and tucking the other two back behind it. Maddie circles the counter again and goes to make another pot of coffee. It's decaf, but she swears it still has some kind of placebo effect. Buck's not entirely convinced.

He drums his fingers on the table a little, debating with himself. But it's just Maddie. It's just the two of them. He could ask her.

"Hey, um," he starts, a little awkwardly. "Do you- do you ever feel. I don't know. Weird? A-about Jee-Yun spending time with Mom and Dad?"

Maddie turns back from the coffee maker and regards him seriously. She doesn't look thrown by the question, even though Buck knows it has to seem like it's coming out of nowhere.

"Honestly? Yeah, sometimes," she says, and Buck lets out a slightly shaky breath, feeling weirdly relieved by her answer.

"It's not like-" she pauses, considering- "I'm not worried about her safety or anything, obviously. But I remember what it was like growing up in that house. Some of things they said to us. To you."

She sighs, fidgeting with the mug in her hands a little.

"So yeah, I worry a little," she admits. "Sometimes."

Buck nods, looking down at the invitation without really seeing it this time. Eventually he looks back up at Maddie and finds her still just waiting. Always so patient with him.

Buck clears his throat.

"They just- they haven't really... met Christopher," he says eventually. "I mean, obviously they did, at your wedding. But like, they haven't really spent any time with him. And I'm- I know it's dumb, but I'm-"

"I get it," Maddie tells him, voice soft.

Then, even more softly-

"You don't have to invite them, Buck."

Buck scoffs a little, at that.

"Come on," he argues. "They're our parents. I have to invite them."

"No," she argues back. "You really don't."

Buck shakes his head.

"That's not even- I want them there," he says. And he does. He's... pretty sure he does. "I'm just-"

Maddie sets down her coffee.

"Okay, how about this then - maybe you should just talk to Christopher about it," she suggests. "He's a teenager, so he's old enough to understand complicated family stuff-" Buck can't help but snort a little, at that- "and maybe it would good for you guys anyway. For him to understand things a little better."

"We did uh. We did kind of talk about it once," he tells her. "Or well, I did. He said our family was messed up."

This time it's Maddie's turn to snort.

"Well, if the shoe fits," she quips, picking up her coffee again but sighing a little discontentedly as she takes a sip.

Buck looks over at her and can't help but smile again.

"I don't know," he says, "I think my family is actually pretty great, these days."

Maddie smiles back at him, even as her eyes immediately go teary again. And well- if Buck gets an earful from Chim when he gets home about making Maddie cry, he can take it.

It's worth it.

[dark-academia-alcoholic]

Life in the office can be a bit dull, but the routine of daily activities promises stability, and a decent paycheck. Sitting in the break room during lunch is often the best time of day. Aside from enjoying whatever lunch has been packed for the day, there's also ample time and space to do some people watching.

It's interesting how even in "adult" life, the break room is split into clicks like back in high school. From the production line workers, to the scientists, and even the administrators. All of them sit within their groups, only a few venture to the table of another.

There's also plenty of time to watch the people behind the scenes: the janitors who clean the tables and microwaves, the Coke employees who stop by only to restock the vending machines, and the coffee pots which are tended to by ...wait, who tends the coffee pots?

Stop and think about it for a minute. It seems that no one ever fills the water, adds the beans, or brews the coffee, yet there are always four pots full. The deluxe machine has two brew stations, and two additional heaters, all of which are always full and piping hot. People come and go, grab some coffee, yet the pot remains full.

But how?

This situation is most troubling, only because there is no obvious answer. Days are spent observing the machine, always with its full pots of coffee, never with anyone brewing any.

Could it be that the observer is being observed? Ridiculous. Yet the googly eyes someone stuck to the machine certainly don't help. And the fact that the eyes just moved on their own doesn't help either.

Wait.

The googly eyes just moved. Now there's a sound, a familiar sound, but it seems strange in this setting. The sound of coffee brewing.

There's no one else in the break room. Yet the coffee is being brewed. The googly eyes are definitely watching.

Then the answer becomes clear:

The coffee machine is a mimic.

Yet there have been no cases of injury or dissapearences. The electric OSHA sign proudly reports that the warehouse has gone 281 days without incident.

So then why would a mimic choose the form of a coffee machine? Why does it not do normal mimic things? Hundreds of people must interact with the mimic daily, yet it does nothing but serve fresh, hot coffee.

Could it be that this office mimic loves the employees? Is it an employee itself? Does it just have a passion for making coffee?

Perhaps these new questions are more unnerving than the original mystery of the bottomless coffee pots.

But, lunch break is over, so we must depart from our Office Mimic for now.

~ Abadon

Have a random story about Office Mimic who loves you (or loves making coffee, you decide which)! This was a random idea I've had floating around my head for some time, based on real experiences. I'm not entirely convinced our own coffee maker isn't a mimic.

I wrote this in one pass, with no editing or even rereading, cause I live life on the edge like that. I wanted to try to write something from the perspective of a non-present observer (save but the final line). So no "you notice" type phrases. There's probably a term for that type of perspective, but I'm no lit professor.

Also uh, @churchofthemimic may enjoy this. Your posts are a good reason why I felt compelled to jot this down, so.

[miwiheroes]

so i truly believe that byler will be endgame. but one thing that still confuses me is the talk between mike and el in the grocery store. what was the whole point behind it and how does add up to mike liking Will if he's trying to explain that he loves el in some weird mike way? you get what i mean? it just doesn't make any sense in my head. so do you have any explanation for that whole conversation?

Hi! Thanks for the ask

I actually really think this scene is a very queercoded scene. So now Mike is actually trying to apologise to El for the things he's done over the past season. He's trying to tell her that he loves her, but he physically can't bring himself to say it. When I first watched this scene, I originally thought that makes sense since he's just a teenage boy and their relationship is played with some humour anyways. But now that we have season 4, it feels like this is a bigger issue than just this scene.

The reason for him not saying I love you to her is literally so hard for me to articulate, since I personally have never had internalised homophobia, but the best rendition i can ever really get is literally from a video by the Daniel Howell from epic duo Dan and Phil (yes, really): So if you're interested in why he can't say it to her due to internalised homophobia, watch this video at from timestamps 18:08 to 18:44.

I honestly don't believe it was him being too scared to admit it, I think it was him being to scared to say it. As if he'll know he's lying as soon as he says it. And I know this because he tries to get her her to say it instead. As if the words are dirty in his mouth.

It's a pretty strange thing to do to write such a conversation in a heavily frustrating manner as this one. It's meant to frustrate the viewer, it's meant to mirror what Mike's feeling. And how is that a characteristic of an endgame couple? It also just shows that they simply aren't on the same page. They don't really get each other.

When El doesn't understand, Mike tries to drag it out as long as possible until they get interrupted. When they do get interrupted by the walkie talkie, he POUNCES on that shit, very happy for an excuse to get out of it.

As for the details of the conversation itself, they are very interesting.

Mike describes the feeling of being 'in love' as something that 'old people say to each other'.

This shows that he views being in love as something that is just part of growing up. He views his relationship with El as something he has to do in order to not be a kid anymore. He emulates his parents' relationship, which might I add, is loveless. So he copies what his parents do, which is saying 'I love you', despite not meaning it.

Right after saying this^^ he says that you eventually get girlfriends, so it's pretty clear that he thinks that in order to not be seen as a kid, he needs to get over Will and just be with a woman. Mike is in a relationship for reasons other than love, just like his parents.

ALSO THIS WHOLE CONVO IS PROOF THAT HE AT LEAST USED TO LOVE WILL DGASJHD

In his words, he describes love as something that 'makes you crazy' and tries to get El to understand through that. And may I harp on about the fact that Mike says to Will they should just go CRAZY together hello??? And Will, in that scene, instantly understands and agrees. It just shows that he views his feelings about Will as love, at least subconsciously, but this time is viewing it as something he needs to grow out of and replicate with El.

This is not even a parallel, it's more like a perpendicular. It literally showcases the exact difference between the two relationships through using the same words.

So yeah, that's what I think of that conversation between Mike and El. All in all, Mike can't actually say the words 'I love you' because they feel dirty to say when they aren't truthful, so he tries to get El to say it. She doesn't understand what he's saying because they aren't on the same page about anything. He tries to explain in terms he understands; his subconscious feelings about Will and the way that his parents say I love you to each other. He views his feelings about Will as childish and sees being with a woman as part of growing up, no matter if you're actually in love, all because of his parents.

<33

[evervigilantnightshade]

The Line - Part 14

Reader and John have always straddled the line between playful flirting and taking things further. However when they are forced into a safe house and a secret comes out will they be able to save what they were heading for or is all lost.

Reader x John Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Laswell, Original characters.

MDNI

Warnings: Starts fluff, ends angst. Trouble, violence.

Y/N had never been happier. Her and John had fully embraced being together and everyone could see how in love with each other they were. He doted on her, wouldn’t let her lift a finger and was constantly asking if she needed anything. 

It was Christmas morning and after spending the last hour making love to each other they finally joined the family in the living room where everyone gathered to open presents. John had gotten Y/N her coffee and was snuggled up next to her, his arm wrapped around her shoulder. 

They watched as the children all opened their presents, allowing them to go first was somewhat a tradition so the adults could later open their presents in peace. It was a heartwarming scene that the men weren’t used too, usually spending their holidays on missions or on the base. 

After the kids were all done and now thoroughly occupied with their new toys and gadgets the adults started their Christmas. Ava opened her gifts for her and Clara from Simon and cried seeing the thoughtful gifts. Others laughed and smiled as they opened gifts from each other and the guys all got gifts from the family, which they didn’t expect. 

Finally Y/N got up and grabbed a bag walking over to each of the team and handing a small box. Handing John his last. 

“What’s this?” Kyle asked and Y/N smiled. 

“Why don’t you open it and find out.” Y/N smiled.

All the guys opened the boxes to reveal a compass inside. On the top was their callsign and when they opened it the task force 141 logo was inside. 

“So you always find your way home to your family, if you’re ever lost.” 

“Y/N this is proper nice. Thank you!” Gaz grinned. 

“Yeah thanks love.” Johnny added

Simon just winked at her and nodded his head. She knew he would corner her later and thank her.

Y/N glanced over at John who hadn’t opened his yet and was just looking at her with a smile on his face. 

“Open yours. It’s a bit different.” 

On the face it said Captain but when he opened it there was an etching of a Belladonna flower inside. 

“So you always find your way home to me.” She whispered and he smiled before kissing her. 

“Always.” He whispered back. “Did you call Kate?” 

They had had a discussion the night before about the transfer and Y/N agreed to stay. 

“Yeah, we spoke this morning. She didn’t even file the paperwork when she got it. Figured I would change my mind.” 

John smiled and then reached behind him and pulled out a gift for Y/N. 

“Happy Christmas love.” 

She opened it to see a first edition copy of Pride and Prejudice. Her favourite book.. 

“John, this is crazy! How did you get this?”

“I have my ways. Do you like it?” 

Tears formed in her eyes and she wrapped her arms around him. 

“Thank you, I love it.” 

The rest of the day was spent with amazing food, some games and talking. It was, in Y/N’s opinion, a perfect day. Both her families were together in one place. Dinner was amazing as usual and eventually everyone made their way to bed, happy and full. 

Y/N and John were laying in bed cuddling in each other's arms talking about the day and how wonderful it was when suddenly a red light started flashing above the bed. Y/N jumped up. 

“Get dressed, that’s the perimeter alarm.” She said as she reached over and pressed a button on the wall. 

Around him he could hear mechanical noises and then looked at the window just as a metal shield covered it. 

“What’s happening?”

“Don’t know yet.” 

She grabbed a handgun out of her nightstand and handed it to John before reaching up above her door pushing on the wall revealing a panel. When it opened there was an assault rifle which she grabbed. 

“Come on.” 

She led them out of the room and saw Simon with Ava and Clara getting ready to go down to the safe room through the cold storage room. 

“Si, take John, look at the cameras and figure out what’s going on. I’ll go help get everyone else down here. Contact Kate too, see if we can get an overview of the situation.” 

Simon nodded and ushered his family through the door as Y/N turned to head upstairs. 

“Y/N, be careful.” John called after her and she smiled

“I always am.” 

She raced up the stairs and made it to the base of the stairs leading to the third floor when she ran into Johnny. 

“Wat in ta hell is goin on?” 

“We don’t know. Go grab Grandma. She won’t make it downstairs fast enough. John and Si are down there looking at the cameras.” 

The rest of the family started coming down the stairs and Y/N was directing them to the basement. Johnny came back with her grandma in his arms and Momma Lynn right behind them. 

“Get them in the safe room, me and Kyle will clear and secure these floors and meet you down there.” She instructed and he nodded. 

Kyle was heading down the stairs with the gun that was hidden in his room but Y/N stopped him. 

“Let’s sweep up here and then we can secure this floor.” 

They went room to room checking everywhere for anyone left behind or anyone who wasn’t supposed to be there but it was clean. When they were done Y/N reached up and pressed a button on the top of each door frame causing a metal gate to come down. 

“Wow you’re dad made this house insanely secure.” Kyle 

“Yeah he wanted to make sure we’re safe. Even the windows are bullet proof. Let’s do the main floor. Same thing, clear a room and then shut the gate over the door.” 

They made their way through securing every internal door, all external doors and windows previously covered when Y/N put the house in lock down. Finally they made their way down to the safe room which was behind one of the two doors that they had not been through in this area. Knowing the family was safe they headed back to the conference room.

“What’s going on?” She asked, walking over to where Simon, John and Johnny were looking at several monitors. 

“It’s not good. Several hostiles advancing on the North side.” 

“You get Kate?” 

“I’m here Y/N.” A voice came from one of the monitors.

“What are we looking at?” 

“There are about fifteen hostiles on the North side advancing to the fence. There are an additional eight heading east along the fence line."

“Alright, Simon, John and Kyle you take the North, me and Johnny will head East. Let’s get ready.” 

They went back into the locker room and Y/N led them to a bank of smaller lockers. When they opened there were winter camos with vests and all the gear they needed. They quickly got into their gear and then went into the armory to get armed. 

Charlie was standing there with Emma and they were loading guns for the family. Five guns laid out, as the girls expertly got them ready. 

“You get those loaded and you get the door closed. You don’t open it for anyone, do you hear me?” Simon instructed and Charlie nodded. 

“Yeah Si we got this.” 

They took the guns and left the room, the sound of a door closing and locking filled the room. 

“Grab what you need.” He then instructed the group. 

Above them they heard an explosion but Y/N and Simon didn’t seem bothered. 

“House is secure, they can’t get in no matter how hard they hit it. The frame is practically indestructible.”  Y/N assured them. 

After grabbing their guns Y/N led them back upstairs through the cold storage room. They went to the far side of the laundry room where she reached over and pulled a lever that opened yet another secret door that led to a tunnel.  

“Alright, me and Soap are right, the rest of you head left.” 

Simon and Kyle started walking to the left and Soap to the right but John walked over to Y/N. 

“Be safe out there.” He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. 

“You too.” 

He turned and left her taking one last quick look back at her. 

She then ran to catch up with Soap and they quickly made their way through the tunnel. Eventually they had made their way to a door that Y/N pushed open and they found themselves in a root cellar. 

“Alright, up the stairs and out the door take a left and we’re facing the forest. It’s open ground until we get to the forest so stay sharp.” 

Soap nodded and they quickly went up the stairs. Y/N slowly opened the outside door and took a look around before exiting. They ran quickly, making it to the forest in record time. 

“They are climbing the east wall. Belladonna , Soap I see you, straight ahead.” 

“Got it Watcher approaching now.” Soaps voice 

They silently headed in the direction of the wall but then stopped when Kate’s voice warned them of two approaching hostiles.

“It’s quiet on this side.” One of the men said. 

“Too quiet.” the other agreed. 

They were approaching the tree that Y/N was crouched behind and she motioned to Soap to stay where he was. She pulled out two knives and held them in her hands. When they reached the tree she threw her hands backwards stabbing them both in their lower stomachs before ripping out the knives turning around and driving them up through their chins into their heads. 

“Weel tha was effective.” Soap smirked. 

Y/N however was preoccupied looking at their uniforms. 

“Guys we have a problem.” She said into the coms while motioning at the crests on their uniforms to Soap. 

“What’s wrong?” Price’s voice sounded strained. 

“These guys are Kortac.” 

“What the fuck.” Simon sounded just as strained. 

“Yeah I’m looking at the uniforms now.” 

“Why the fuck did they agree to work with Bako?” Kyle asked and Y/N sighed. 

“Let’s just figure this out first and deal with this after.” 

In front of them Soap and Y/N heard a branch break but couldn’t see anything. 

“Watcher how many are approaching?” 

“I’ve got nothing on screen. They are all just standing by the perimeter wall.” 

“Someone’s here, we can hear them.”

Y/N pulled up thermal but couldn’t see anything. Suddenly there was a flash in front of her eyes like a person had run in front of her. 

“What was that? Soap, what are you seeing?” 

Beside her she heard a body drop and she looked over to see Soap on the ground. She ran over to him while calling out on the coms. 

“Man down. Soap is down. There’s someone…” 

She felt something hit her neck and then everything went black. 

—------------------

“Bells. BELLS. Y/N copy.” John yelled

There was an explosion behind him and he shoved his finger into his other ear trying desperately to hear anything on the other end. 

“Watcher, what’re you seeing?” 

“Their beacons are there but they aren’t moving.” 

“Cap, it looks like they’re retreating.” Kyle peaked over the wall. 

“Kyle, stay here, watch this wall. Simon with me.” 

John ran with Simon beside him, the snow under their feet frustratingly slowing their process. 

“Soap. Bells. Answer now.” John barked 

They were met with silence and John could see that Simon was passing him so he motioned for him to go ahead. 

They made their way up the hill in front of the forest and Simon disappeared into the trees. 

“Watcher, what do you see?” 

“Both Soap and Belladonna’s trackers are in place, neither have moved. No threats present.” 

John pushed forward with all he had and past the clearing and pushed through on the other side. 

“Captain, I have Soap no sign of Belladonna.” 

John joined up with Simon seeing him kneeling in front of Johnny. 

“Is he alive?” 

“Yeah he’s breathing. Had this in his neck.” Simon held up a dart of some kind. 

“Watcher, where is she pinging? We don’t see her.” John frantically looked around them

“She is to your left about one hundred yards.” 

He walked over that way and looked around not seeing her. 

“Watcher?” 

“You’re practically right on top of her, John.”

He started scanning the forest floor and his stomach dropped seeing her beacon. 

“Ghost, get over here.” 

“Did you find her?” Simon came up behind him and saw the beacon. “FUCK.” 

“Watcher where did they go? Which way? They have Y/N.” 

“They headed east. There is a small town there with an air field.”

“We have to catch them before they get to that airport or we'll have no idea where they’re taking her.” 

John and Simon jumped into the pickup truck, speeding off towards the gate. Once clear of it they headed east on the gravel road, the truck fishtailing as Simon hammered on the gas.  

“You need to go faster.” John grunted in frustration. 

“You don’t think I know that? This is as fast as this truck will go. My foot is on the floor John.” 

“FUCK!” He suddenly cried out and smashed his hand against the dashboard. “How did we let this happen? I should’ve gone with her to the East and let Soap cover the North with you.”

“Then you’d be unconscious right now instead of Johnny. There was nothing he could’ve done differently just like there’s nothing you could’ve done. So just stop and let me focus on driving.” 

They had made it ten minutes down the road when they were ambushed. Bullets whizzed through the air, several hitting the truck. Simon slammed on the breaks and they jumped out of the truck shooting at the source of their ambush. John was ready to step out from behind the truck and run at the assailants but Simon grabbed him by the back of his vest and pulled him back. 

“You’re no good to anyone dead for fuck sakes.” 

“We don’t have time for this!” John yelled and Simon pushed him against the truck. 

“I fucking know that. She’s my fucking sister and I am barely holding it together. I don’t have the capacity right now to fucking babysit you so get your shit together. NOW.” 

John nodded curtly but felt the truck sag to the left. They had blown one of the tires on the truck. His heart sank. He froze and broke out in sweat. They weren't going to make it. They were going to lose her. 

The gunshots around them ceased and they heard a vehicle take off at a fast speed. They had accomplished their mission. John walked to the front of the truck and saw steam pouring out of the radiator also noticing two flat tires now. They had no way to follow now and John dropped to his knees. 

“Watcher?” Simon said into the coms. 

It took Kate a moment to answer and when she did her voice was quiet. 

“We lost them. They jammed our satellite feed.” 

John heard Simon scream followed by the sound of breaking glass. He’d punched out one of the windows in the truck most likely injuring himself. 

John stared into the darkness in disbelief. They just started their life together but now she was gone and there was nothing he could do to save her.

[elephantshoetoo]

Hey there! Loved the recent YT video of yours. Um, Let's dive straight to the question.

First, I am a massive Byler believer. (all for the right reasons, I believe) But recently I keep seeing posts on "why Byler isn't happening" and the reason people usually drop is "the story is set on 80s, it was a difficult time to be gay"--- And I'm like, 1. well, it's mainly a fictional show. there isn't upside down or at least we have yet to find that to be true . so writers can do what they like. 2. just because 80s was a difficult time to express openly to others that they were gay doesn't mean people didn't fall in love and decided to love and live with each other for the rest of their lives. 3. am I really watching the same show with the rest of the world? am i overanalyzing it? or am I really gonna be kicked on the stomach when Season 5 releases (which I hope releases soon, every day of wait is killing me) What's your take on this? Hopefully you'd answer. I rarely open Tumbler but I will come back for your answer. Lots of Love, A Fellow ST Fan

Ooh, thank you for your question - this is my first real ask. I'm so excited 😊

Take heart, dear Byler shipper. This is a show for the underdogs, a show about fighting against forced conformity and righting the wrongs of the past.

I grew up in the 80's, and yes, gay people existed, though many of them were closeted out of fear or denial. I had gay friends and dated several gay guys, so I do understand why people might think it would be unrealistic for Byler to happen, but yeah, it's a sci-fi show, not a documentary. It's not about realism or showing how it was. It's about showing how it should be (in the end), so I don't think the time period is going to stop them.

In fact, I think the time period is significant. I think the monsters and the Upside Down are all symbolic of the horrors of growing up as a gay person in a place and time that was hostile towards them.

But also...

The first Pride celebration in Indiana happened in Indianapolis in 1987.

1987.

Why does that date sound familiar...? Oh, yes. That's when most of ST 5 takes place - the year of their first Pride celebration. Hmm... Coincidence?

And Byler can happen without them coming out to the whole town. They could keep it amongst their friends and family, the way Robin has only told Steve so far. Nobody doubts Rovickie happening, even though they are also gay in the 80's (making those arguments against Byler completely invalid). Vickie has far less queer coding than Mike Wheeler and is also in a straight relationship, but everyone sees it coming after only a few flirty scenes, because nobody knows or cares about Vickie's boyfriend or had any preconceived ideas about her character that they now have to adjust. People don't like adjusting their preconceived ideas. It makes them uncomfortable. It makes them question the safety of their familiar little world and forces them to expand their minds. Growth is never easy.

But... if they don't already see the queer coding behind Mike and all the hints that Byler is on the horizon... adjusting their preconceived ideas would actually explain Mike's whole character arc, the "journey" he's been on and the weird behavior that makes no sense through any other lens. That airport "hug"? Pretending to ignore Will all day while furtively glancing at him and noticing every little thing he does? Classic crush behaviour. It's so obvious unless you're straight-up in denial. They've used so many of the traditional romantic tropes (love triangle, boy-next-door, "just friends" to lovers, Cyrano De Bergerac, etc...), yet people refuse to see it because Byler isn't a traditional couple.

So, yeah... It's a story. It can do whatever it wants. If it's a good story - which I believe it is - it will pick up all these breadcrumbs it's laid down and follow them to a satisfying conclusion. Otherwise, what would have been the point? Why have Will believe he's never going to fall in love? Why have him fall in love with Mike specifically, and leave a whole bunch of hints that Mike returns his feelings, making the audience root for them, if that's not where they're planning to take this? It would make no sense at all and be sloppy storytelling, imo.

Thank you so much for your question, and for watching our YouTube video! I hope this cures you of any Byler doubt.

Love,

Byler Mom

💙💛💚

[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.

[hinahiiro]

Sorry if this is an unwanted intrusion. I think you’ve brought up a lot of good points but I have a few additional things I’d like to point out if that’s allowed lol. Just to establish my claim, I do think we are seeing multiple timelines.

The reason for Lu Guang’s eerie consistency across the timelines can be explained through 2 reasons (maybe more, this is just what ive thought of). The first has to do with a quote from Lu Guang where he says, “I used to think that even a flap of a butterfly might cause a hurricane strong enough to ruin the world.” (EP1 of the arc, 0:06:20). This explains Lu Guang’s rigidness in following a script of sorts, where he feels forced to not change anything in order to prevent a shift in the timeline. The second reason I have is more concerned with storytelling than anything about the timeline and that’s just it would be really difficult to convey Lu Guang across timelines and the variance of his thoughts and actions, especially if they don’t actually differ all that much. It would just be really redundant. It’s easier to follow ‘one’ Lu Guang who is consistent in his behavior and have a fluctuating background that more so implies a change in timeline than outright states it.

In your second point you bring up the scene in episode 2 where Cheng Xiaoshi is about to ask Lu Guang about his powers but instead gets distracted. Right before this, the ‘true’ dialogue is shown with a static-y grey filter over it to convey a separate timeline. But I don’t think this rule needs to apply to all scenes featuring a different timeline. The filter is shown here to convey the overwriting of an important node that alters the level of knowledge Cheng Xiaoshi has on Lu Guang’s ability and what happens in the photo. This change is significant, so it’s made obvious, but I don’t think the filter needs to be applied to slight changes like what clothes are on the bed. It’s just to highlight a major shift in the original going of things.

From here, you could argue we are in a different, singular timeline, but thinking back to what Lu Guang said about the butterflies and then acknowledging himself to be wrong, it’s less like a split timeline and more like a bump in the road. We got off track but then corrected ourselves so we’re now back where the timelines are ‘united’. At least that’s how I think of it.

Lastly, on the animation errors. This is my favourite topic. I have a hard time believing the animation errors to be genuine errors due to how methodical they are. I’ll start with the shots of the bed and the changing clothes because this scene is the most bizarre to me. For starters, there are five possible sets for the clothes, which are always consistent between scenes. If this were an animation error or the animators just didn’t care about staying consistent then it makes no sense as to why all the featured outfits always occur together and stay within a similar shape. It makes more sense for the outfits to be always changing on every camera cut but they don’t. Outfits that vanish in one scene return in the next. If this was a genuine animation error, then that probably wouldn’t be happening 😭. (I might be explaining this poorly so there’s a video on yt that does a better job and talks about more scenes where this happens).

Also, I don’t think we can say backgrounds are irrelevant because we know Link Click loves their hidden messages as evidenced by the books behind Liu Xiao in “The Eye” that are arranged in morse code. (tumblr post about that)

Additionally, if we don’t want to look at backgrounds, we can go back to the fight at the beginning of episode one where there is a major change with Lu Guang. Near the beginning of the fight between Vein and Lu Guang, Vein shoots at Lu Guang but misses. He does hit the edge of his coat, but from other angles, we can see that Lu Guang himself is perfectly fine.

Later, after Cheng Xiaoshi’s death, Lu Guang heads upstairs. In the following shots, we see that Lu Guang is very injured, labored breathing and all.

It isn’t impossible that this occurred after, considering we never actually see Vein leave. He might have stuck around to get Lu Guang too but idk. I don’t think we know enough about his motives at this point to draw any conclusions about that and I can’t imagine that’s a fight Lu Guang is winning lol. Anyhow, you can definitely interpret this scene a few ways but I am of the opinion that this is another timeline where Lu Guang is just a nanosecond too late to dodge that bullet.

All this being said, I don’t disagree that we are following a specific timeline, but I don’t think that we aren’t also seeing other timelines. It’s almost as if the background changes are a subtle indicator that this timeline is congruent with the others and the grey filter moments are telling us where it’s diverging.

Sorry this is so long, I just had a lot to say. Clearly.

As much as I adore how the Link Click fandom is analyzing every single Yingdu frame because of the "different timelines" theory... I really don’t think that’s the case, guys 😅

For starters, there's consistency in the way Lu Guang acts and thinks—there’s no indication that he’s jumping through multiple attempts. If he were, I’m fairly certain his thoughts and actions wouldn’t align so perfectly. We’re following the Yingdu timeline Lu Guang, and nothing else.

Second, the donghua has already established how changes in the timeline are perceived: the screen gains a filter and glitches, all of this shown through Lu Guang’s perspective because he’s the one who notices the changes. They emphasize this because it’s crucial, and they want the audience to notice it.

Honestly, if they intended to go with the "we're seeing multiple timelines simultaneously" concept, they would have made it more obvious. The inconsistencies people point out could easily be animation errors, since minor background discrepancies are common in animation. Animation is hard, and studios prioritize time and effort. They focus most of their resources on the main elements—the characters and their immediate surroundings—rather than on the blurry background details that only someone pausing every frame or with an exceptional eye for detail might notice.

That said, I still have a lot of fun reading these theories, and I’d love it if, in the end, they did something with this—like if these supposed mistakes actually turn out to be alternate timelines that Qiao Ling is seeing in the present through Li Tianxi’s power. Either way, I’m sure they’ll find a way to surprise us, as they always do, or break our hearts.

[sugarhog05]

So I’ve never made an AU before, but the thought of ballerina daycare attendants have been bouncin around in my head for a while now. I used to do competitive dancing (messed up all my joints lol) so I know a lot about the behind the scenes and stuff for competitive dance. I was gonna make them one animatronic at first, but now I’ve decided to make them three separate ones.

These are basic refs for their designs. I have some thoughts on the different types of dancers they’d be. Sun would be the most competitive of the three, and does NOT work well with others. (Excluding his brothers, but even then he doesn’t do it often) Sun is so competitive in fact that he’d use under handed methods if things weren’t working in his favor. He’s super passive aggressive, but it’s mostly because the predominantly human dancers are petty and talk about them behind their backs. Something very predominant in the dancing scene is how cut throat it is, so the brothers would have a lot of nasty comments thrown their way (because they’re really good dancers.) Eclipse I think would love working with other dancers. Most of the time he doesn’t even realize that the other dancers talk about them negatively. He’s sort of oblivious, which actually ends up endearing him to a lot of people in the dance community. He’s the most well liked of the three mostly because he’s like, super friendly. Very much golden retriever energy. Lastly I think Moon would be a Soloist. He doesn’t like working with others much either, but it’s not as malicious as Sun. He doesn’t even like dancing with his brothers, really. He gets self conscious because he thinks they’re just better dancers, when really they’re just different. Moon is a more quiet, graceful dancer while Sun and Eclipse are loud and energetic. Moon also branches out into Aerial silks, and Aerial hoops. He’s more aware of the dislike from other dancers and wants nothing to do with them. There will be a Y/N eventually once I figure out where I want them in the AU.

Busts of the three. Sun is the most unhinged of the three. I think he’d be a sort of responsible for the inciting incident that starts the main story I have in my head.

First draft for their designs. Didn’t have them fully planned out yet. Don’t have a name for it yet, so I’ve just been calling it the DCA Ballerina AU. So uh, yeah they’ve been what’s been in my head the last couple days lol also Eclipses neck collar thing is meant to mimic a tutu since he can’t have one around his waist (having an extra set of arms gets in the way) Moons whole deal is ribbons, and Suns is ruffles. ALSO also Moons sparkly because I said so >:)

[bonesandthebees]

It's not even just the letting go of things, like... You didn't need to stream for 3 hours about it. You could've watched the VOD and then made cliff notes. Just said sorry for the slur sincerely.

There was an issue in the Hermitcraft fandom recently where some people came forward with allegations about a member to the hermits themselves. They sorted it all out BEHIND THE SCENES, and only made a statement after everything was SORTED and the member removed. Even the people concerned posted their docs of messages and thoughts, pains and what not, and then the matter was DONE.

DONE.

After so long seeing ridiculous drama on this side of mcyt, it felt like such a breath of fresh air. Now that the green muppet is back on his shit, I can't help but think of what a Fucking Toddler he is. Can't do SHIT right. Ugh

—❄️

I know there was no reason for him to stream for 3 straight hours. and most of what he said didn't even make full sense 😭 and he still didn't even make a straightforward, sincere apology for saying a slur 😭😭😭

yeah I saw what was going on with the iskall stuff over in HC. I really admired how everyone involved handled it, from both the hermits and the people involved. I feel for all of the fans who were hurt learning this information about a creator they loved because god knows I know what that's like, but it was also just wild witnessing such a clean and simple way of handling that kind of conflict.

something dream could literally never do lmao

[milessunflowers]

Franco Colapinto x Male Reader

The reader, who's nearsighted and always wears glasses, has lost them and is frantically searching everywhere

(It's the first order I've made, I hope I did it right 😅)

i love this omg! this is gonna be a good one bc im nearsighted and always lose my glasses when i set them down when i have a headache!

franco colapinto x male reader

synopsis: he can't even leave you alone for a second before you lose your glasses. now, the two of you are frantically searching everywhere for them.

author's note: thank you so much for the request! this one is going to be so fun to write since i seem to lose my glasses when they are on my face! it did get self indulgent just a bit but 😅. feel free to request more!

one minute. one stupid, short, devastating minute. that's how long he was gone to grab something from the room. franco looks at you, watching as you scramble across the floor, eyes squinted so much they almost looked closed. he sighs heavily, knowing exactly what happened just from the scene he walked back in to.

"mi amor, did you lose your glasses, again?" he asks you exasperatedly. he pinches the bridge of his nose and sets the blanket down on the couch. you squint in his general direction, trying to make out the colorful blob that seemed to be franco. you give him a sheepish smile.

"uh, no? i just, uh, really like the carpet. yep! the carpet is why i am on the floor!" you lie through your teeth, even though it was obvious you were desperately trying to find where you had dropped your glasses earlier.

you couldn't see the exact face your boyfriend was giving you but you could picture it. you give up and sit on your knees, looking and picking at the carpet. "okay, fine. i might have lost them again," you whisper, an embarrassed blush creeping up your neck, covering your cheeks, and painting the tips of your ears a bright red. to franco, the sight was adorable.

franco let's out a quiet, teasing laugh. "do you need help?" he asks, titling his head as he moves closer to you so you could see him clearer.

you nod and murmur a small, "yes, please." this wasn't the first time this has happened, nor would this be the last. you had a tendency to take your glasses off whenever it felt convenient, leaving them in places you never seem to remember. like one time, you were in the bedroom and remembered you needed your glasses. unfortunately, like always, you didn't remember where you put them so it ended up being an hour long search just for them to be in the bathroom.

franco was used to this. he knew you were forgetful, knew you often left things in places where they aren't needed. it doesn't take him as long as it used to as this happened almost daily. the two of you searched the living with little luck, thought you did find your pencil you lost when filling out some papers!

you moved on to the kitchen, squinting once more as you felt and looked around for a black blob that might have remotely resembled your glasses. franco followed quickly behind, opening the refrigerator and immediately finding your thick framed glasses.

he smiles softly and moves over to where you were searching through cabinets of plates and bowls, muttering about something. franco wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer. "my wonderful, handsome, forgetful boyfriend," he begins, kissing your cheek softly. "i found them." he holds out the pair of glasses, you immediately grabbing them and putting them back on.

"thank you!" you exclaim, turning to hug him tightly, thanking him over and over again. "where were they?!"

"in the fruit drawer," franco responds neutrally, shrugging his shoulders and grinning. "you know, you should invest in contacts." you scowl at him.

"no way! i'd forget they were in, fall asleep with them in, and i really don't think that would end all too well," you remind him, watching as he holds in laughter. it was a conversation you both had before. "plus, i'm too lazy to take them in and out anyways," you add, though much quieter.

franco laughs and hugs you again, kissing the top of your head. "yeah, i know," he replies, his words muffled against your hair.

TAGS! (if you want to be added, lmk!)

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