#They want to be well prepared to be parents.

[astonmartinii]

doing business with family | max verstappen social media au

pairing: max verstappen x fem hadjar reader

brother and boyfriend in the same sport? nothing has ever gone wrong when doing business with family... right?

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by alexalbon, pepemarti and 307,377 others

tagged: maxverstappen1 & isackhadjar

yourusername: max will officially become my second favourite f1 driver this weekend

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user1: watched isack’s f2 radio highlights in preparation for this weekend … yeah they’re defo siblings

user2: i know they’re parents had a HANDFULL with them growing up

user3: lmao just ask george in abu dhabi or lando in austria, y/n knows how to make her point KNOWN

isackhadjar: omg i beat max in something!

yourusername: come on bro have some faith in yourself - you can defo beat max in singapore at least

maxverstappen1: rude?

yourusername: you know i hate singapore in solidarity babe?

isackhadjar: and that’s crazy because she loves the glitter helmets

yourusername: i really do

user4: get you a couple that measures their love by glitter helmets?

user5: y/n is so real for that though, i’d fuck seb’s glitter helmets

yourusername: right well i don’t love them quite THAT much

charles_leclerc: slides £5 across the table isack please take max out, he won’t hate you

isackhadjar: no?

landonorris: WHY NOT

isackhadjar: i want to keep my job and actually score some points

yourusername: you people done harassing my brother?

maxverstappen1: do we have a problem?

isackhadjar: they’re being mean, they’re trying to PEER PRESSURE ME

charles_leclerc: i don’t think i was peer pressuring you

charles_leclerc: it’s bribery, god get it right

maxverstappen1: i think you should watch it

yourusername: say something like that to him again frenchie and your ass is grass

user6: omg romance ❤️‍🔥

redbullracing

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo and 823,081 others

tagged: maxverstappen1, yukitsunoda0511 & liamlawson30

redbullracing: red bull vs rb on pop culture trivia… max and isack were unstoppable - we might have to split them up next time

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user7: now i wonder where max and isack got their real housewives knowledge from …

user8: this has y/n hadjar written all over it

user9: if i remember rightly y/n was asked by some interviewer in the paddock who she’d like to see as a paddock guest and she said LISA RINNA?

user10: i knew i stanned the right queen

isackhadjar: not our fault that liam and yuki aren’t caught up with all the fresh news

maxverstappen1: we’re bonded cats i don’t think they have the power to separate us

redbullracing: it’s a trivia game…

maxverstappen1: THAT’S MY BABY BROTHER

redbullracing: YOU GUYS AREN’T EVEN MARRIED YET?

yourusername: looks like admin just lost their invite to the wedding…

redbullracing: yOU AREN’T ENGAGED?

yourusername: i guess you’ll never know

user11: no way they just teased their engagement in an argument over media duties?

user12: you’re shocked? this is quintessential them

user13: and they’re adding in their little rabid mini-them? i fear f1 is actually not ready

liamlawson30: so when do we get to do cars trivia? or is it all set up for them to win?

yourusername: just say you’re uncultured…

maxverstappen1: get a new personality trait bro

liamlawson30: omg why are you guys on my neck so hard?

maxverstappen1: funny

liamlawson30: this is so not fair why didn’t you guys defend me like this last season?

yourusername: that’s my flesh and blood dude

isackhadjar: duh!

maxverstappen1: i am so in love with y/n i just do what she says, do let it be known that if isack was not related to y/n he would be just another stray cat to me

isackhadjar: sure i’ll take it!

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, isackhadjar and 839,023 others

maxverstappen1: we had the chance to extend our championship lead but with two optimists behind you anything can happen…

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user21: LMAO THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THIS AND THE LAST POST

user22: isack probably teared up in the stewards room and max crumbled

user23: i mean on his radio as soon as GP said it was isack max was immediately like ‘is he okay?’

isackhadjar: sorry max!

maxverstappen1: no worries buddy, you can pay me back with room service

isackhadjar: so our move marathon is still on?

maxverstappen1: don’t be dumb - obviously!

maxverstappen1: i need my second in command to help defend my snacks from y/n

yourusername: you guys aren’t supposed to have those snacks i’m doing you a favour !!!

isackhadjar: sureeeee

yourusername: i can call your trainers up if you want?

maxverstappen1: NO WE’RE OKAY

user24: esteban ocon is not okay seeing this tomfoolery

user25: yeah yeah yeah it’s all fun and games but that’s legit his baby brother of course he wasn’t going to cuss him out

user26: exactly! he’s been with y/n for like four years? of course he was concerned about isack’s safety than his race

landonorris: i’m not surprised, just disappointed

maxverstappen1: why?

landonorris: I’M YOUR BEST FRIEND AND YOU STILL AIRED ME OUT ONLINE?

maxverstappen1: first of all y/n is my best friend

maxverstappen1: second of all isack is my baby brother

maxverstappen1: third of all you’re annoying

yourusername: heavy on number three

landonorris: i GIVE UP WITH YOU PEOPLE

user27: i love watching max and y/n making people crash out in instagram comments

user28: couples that terrorise together, stay together

georgerussell63: interesting ….

yourusername: you wanna say something

georgerussell63: suddenly not anymore

maxverstappen1: LMAO

yourusername

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 459,034 others

tagged: maxverstappen1, isackhadjar & pepemarti

yourusername: bond a little bit stronger than a lil crash in a formula one race

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user29: if they don’t get married and live happily ever after i might just sue them

user30: so real

user31: they’re my parents and i can’t go up to four christmasses

redbullracing: that was millions in damage

yourusername: you gonna invoice me for it?

redbullracing: no?

yourusername: then get the fuck out of my comments this is a wholesome post

user32: why is pepe here?

pepemarti: i am just as much part of the hadjar family as max

maxverstappen1: well that’s just factually incorrect

pepemarti: nuh uh

maxverstappen1: ??? i’m marrying in? what are you doing?

pepemarti: i’m mama hadjar and y/n’s favourite so divine intervention

maxverstappen1: @yourusername please dispell this nonsense

yourusername: look at his lil face …

pepemarti: :p

isackhadjar: i’ll be clear i am not marrying pepe

pepemarti: that’s not what you told me the other day :(

user33: can someone make a chart this is all a bit confusing now

user34: i don’t think anything is helping with this chaos

maxverstappen1: i love you forever and ever, even if your brother puts me in the wall <3

yourusername: awww i love you too bubs

maxverstappen1: but i am your favourite though?

yourusername: don’t tell them but yes!

isackhadjar: these are public comments?

pepemarti: i’m legally blind now

fin.

note: a quicky i wrote during the super bowl lol - hope you enjoy xx

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC The Witch and The Ghost

On the subject that came up in my recent post, in my head, Sam and Danny are constantly having beef with each other. But never seriously.

The thing is, Danny has a lot of issues with a lot of things. He is not dead and not alive and then somehow both at the same time. He lives with parents who literally hunt him for sport, even if they are shit at it. His godfather is another can of worms that he refuses to touch entirely. On top of that, there's school, and occasional bullying, and hormones acting up, and ghost problems to deal with.

Which is why Danny is frustrated most of the time. He does a good job at keeping it at bay and not snapping at people for the tiniest inconveniences - partially, it's because he knows that his mild snapping can possibly leave the recipient frozen in a block of ice and humans are prone to hypothermia.

So, Danny is putting a lot of effort into staying reasonable and calm. And he is doing a good job at it!

And then, there's Sam. Sam is used to arguing with her parents at any given moment over literally anything. Sam is an activist who can and will insist on coming out victorious out of any fight she picks at, be it the choice of a salad dressing or discussion of global warming. Sam has opinions and is not afraid to share - more like enforce, actually - them. What's more, Sam is liminal, and she can withstand a lot more blunt ghostly force than any other human being.

Sam and Danny are friends, there's no doubt there. They love each other, they support each other, they will quite literally tear the world apart for each other.

They also argue about every fucking thing on earth. They fight over whose turn it is to pay for burgers every time they get them - which is at least thrice a week - and over the best phrase to teach a pet parrot, and the difference between 'affect' and 'effect' used in context. They put some discussions on pause just in order to find and provide research, and then they slap each other with piles of said research across the faces and get into a fist fight over water pollution.

Sam treats it as a fun activity and maybe a test run for her other fights and discussions with other people. She doesn't mind Danny's frustration and his occasional violence in the slightest, knowing perfectly well that he is no danger to her, and if she asks, he would stop at once.

Danny, on the other hand, gets a great outlet to vent and release all his pent-up emotional baggage. Sure, sometimes their fights get gruesome, and sometimes they hold grudges for days, and sometimes they can barely tolerate seeing each other because of it. But he also knows that in the end, they are friends, they are fraid, and he is safe with Sam no matter what he says or how offensive something sounds to her. Because in the end, it doesn't really matter to her. Not more than him.

Tucker is just very chill with both of them. He doesn't bother sticking with any of the sides of the arguments, switching between them or not taking part at all. He knows they are fine. He knows they just like fighting, for some weird reason. To be fair, he also picks an occasional fight or two with Sam just for the fun of it.

Gotham in general, and Batfam specifically (or Justice League, if you want) are so not prepared for the three of them when they move out of Amity. Especially if there's also Dani and/or Jazz thrown in the mix to spice things up. None of them truly bother to keep from using their powers, albeit mildly: some little hex and jinx here and there from Sam, a frozen patch on the pavement to make someone slip from Danny, some minor hacking from Tucker, a prank or two using the intangibility from Dani.

It leads to a lot of very confusing situations.

Like Batman showing up to the recent Riddler scheme to find two random teens loudly arguing over the answer to the puzzle while Riddler himself looks completely given up on getting their attention back to the important thing. The important thing being a bomb with a ticking timer on it.

Or Robin finding two siblings brawling on the rooftop, growling and screaming, rolling around and kicking their feet. He is not quick enough to catch them from falling off the edge of the three-story building, but when he peeks down, the siblings are still fighting down on the street, seemingly not even noticing the fall.

Or Red Hood having his guns miraculously stolen midfight because three kids have decided to have a sharpshooter competition with the goons acting as target practice. He honestly can't bring himself to mind, though, they really are great at hitting all the kneecaps within range. He is rather grateful they haven't included his own kneecaps in the heat of it. At least their responsible adult - a very pretty redhead - had apologized and returned his guns back.

Spoiler absolutely loves it when, right as she is about to get caught in Poison Ivy's trap, two teens show up to simultaneously wrestle with the mad greenery with their bare hands and lecture Ivy on the imprint she is leaving on the ecosystem of Gotham.

However, Red Robin absolutely hates that someone keeps getting through all of his firewalls just to leave a few cheeky comments on his recent case files. It doesn't matter that they leave some valuable intel and provide a good conclusion as well, it's the principle of the thing.

All in all, Danny and Sam are the unstoppable force meeting the immovable object, but they trade and switch places constantly and they are most definitely enjoying themselves while at it.

Everyone else, though? That depends on the circumstances.

[hotwife-larissa-returns]

Well, as you may know, I‘ve started quite early with exploring the pleasures of sex. I‘ve been sexually precocious and luckily my mommy knew and didn’t fight it, but helped me to get the best possible experiences. She even let one of her lovers deflower me, while she watched him doing it.

Even today, I‘m very thankful for that, it was one of the greatest gifts, I‘ve ever gotten. He was in an age, where he could have been my dad, but he had the experience and patience to do it right. He took his time, prepared me to take it and finally made me a woman.

But that experience was just the start, once I started to enjoy being fucked, I wanted more of it. More sex, more cock, more cum. I dressed like a slut in school, got the right kind of attention and there were quite a lot of boys, who got horny for me. I could see the bulges in their pants, they were attracted to a naughty little girl, who had already been deflorated.

It felt, like they all knew it, as if they could see it, that I already had sex. It was awkward, but I loved to have that reputation of being an easy lay. And I really enjoyed it, being hit on, having some flirts and some older boys had me on their personal watchlist as well.

Most of those boys even in higher grades hadn’t have much experience with the opposite sex at that time. They did some kissing, maybe some petting, but most of them haven’t put their cock in one of that girls in their class. So basically they were still virgins. But their desire to do it was growing - as was the pressure not to get left behind.

They wanted to brag about being a man, that finally enjoyed the pleasures of sticking his cock inside of a warm and wet pussy. And I volunteered to be he right person to start with. With my reputation it was quite easy to get invited to a lot of parties and as a girl of 17 years, you��ll be happy to take those invites. In most cases those parties were at their parents houses, while they were away on vacation.

And I was the special guest on those parties, I got pulled into one of the rooms and the host had his time with me, some of his friends did me, too, after he had finished. It wasn’t too much fun, not what I expected or desired.

They were so inexperienced, they didn’t knew how to do a woman, they fucked me quick and dirty, came early, even before I got aroused. But at least all of them knew to take some protection. Mommy got me on the pill after she noticed that my sexual appetite was rising, but she told me to take care, that they have to use protection as well.

But that guy was special… I hadn’t seen him in school before. He took his time, he cared to get me into the mood, kissed me passionately, inhaled my scent, caressed my body, it felt like he was really interested in me and I had some feelings for him as well. I wanted him… desperately. And he knew it. I spread my legs for him and he entered me. Gosh, it felt great… I surely wasn’t the first one he had in bed.

I was completely overwhelmed by my feeling and let him fuck me, he gave me two orgasms and even screamed his name, before he came. And suddenly I felt, that something felt differently… so wrong. Fuck, in the heat of the moment, we had forgotten to use a condom. I opened my eyes and I was even more shocked to see two other boys standing next to the bed, completely undressed and jerking their hard cocks.

He kissed my neck again, he knew what it makes me feel like, and as I blushed, he called me his slutty princess and told me not to regret it, I was a wonderful fuck and his friends are quite as good as he is, when it comes to please a needy girl. It was the first time I felt like a dirty whore, his cum was oozing out of my tight little pussy, while I could see the lust in his friends eyes. It turned me on and I let them have me as well.

They ran a train on me that night, they took multiple turns on me… none of them used a condom, they bathed their cocks in he other guys cum. After they had finished, they left the room and as they dressed up, they pulled some money out of their pockets and gave it to him. I was so tired and exhausted and my pussy was a burning mess.

He joined me in bed, cuddled with me, kissed me, called me his new lovely slut and told me, that he’ll love to earn some more money with me. I could believe what was happening here. But I was just too exhausted and tired to discuss that, he did me one more time, bathing his cock in my well used and sloppy cunt and as he shot his last load into me, we both fell asleep.

The next morning I woke up laying next to him, he looked so cute, I kissed him and for some reason I thanked him for last night and told him something stupid… that I think I love him. He just smiled and as he walked to the bathroom I couldn’t keep my eyes off his slimy cock. I begged him to suck it clean… and I did.

He just smiled, called me a good slut and told me, that he couldn’t wait to introduce me to his family, but that’s another story.

👩🏻🤗🥰��😘💋🫦🍆🍆🍆💦😈💓

[enwoso]

hey i absolutely love the lovie fics and i had a request for a fic about lovie getting into alessias make up or one about her as a newborn and meeting alessias family at her parents house

DAB TO FAR | alessia russo x child!reader

grumpy masterlist

the faint hum of the hairdryer had been the background noise for most of the afternoon for alessia's as she was preparing for the fifa awards in london.

the award show being a significant event, her and a few of her other teammate's nominated for the fifa best XI and alessia wanted everything to be perfect.

she tasked her brothers, luca and gio the job of baby sitting you for the night. admittedly they were not the blondes first choice — that would have definitely gone to her mum and dad. but they were out of town choosing to extend their winter holiday in the sun.

so her brothers would have to do. but while alessia was getting her hair and makeup done. it had been surprisingly quiet in her home, too quiet.

her hair stylist, louise finishing up her curled bun as she quickly excused herself telling the girl she should probably check up on you in which she just laughed waving the blonde off to do whatever she needed to do.

alessia's gut twinged as she walked up the stairs, her hair styled perfectly with each hair having a place. but something wasn’t right.

you weren't exactly known for being silent, especially when you were at home. alessia had a hard time getting you to be quiet in the comfort of your own home. you were more of a constant giggler, singer or babbler.

alessia slipped the salon cape on the banister at the top of the stairs, "guys?" she called out.

walking into the room where she could hear gio screaming at what she discovered to be the tv, as he was glued to the gaming console, headset on, controlled in hand as he sat on the edge of the bottom of the bed.

luca was sprawled out on the spare bedroom bed, sound asleep over the noise of gio, his mouth slightly open. typical.

gio was too immersed to even notice her approach. "gio," alessia said, hands on her hips.

he jumped, scrambling to pull one side of the headset off as he noticed his sister with a not too impressed look on her face.

"oh, hey less. your hair looks nice, louise's has done a grand job!" gio smiled as he tried to waver the unimpressed look of his sisters face.

"where's lovie?"

gio face went blank, then turned to mild panic before he stuttered out a response, "uh- i..i thought she was with you?"

alessia's sharp inhale could have rivaled a gale-force wind, "you thought she was with me?"

"well, yeah, she was here a second ago-"

"giorgio!" she groaned, cutting him off as she spun on her heel to try and find you, she didn't have time to lecture him right now. her mind raced as she checked the kitchen and the backyard calling out for you.

"lovie, baby where are you?"

but i wasn't until she was doing the second check of the the upstairs when she passed her room that she noticed something odd. the door was slightly open, and alessia could distinctly remember shutting it earlier.

she gently pushed it open and froze as she poked her head into the room.

you perched on the vanity chair, one leg swinging back and forth as you were surrounded by an explosion of makeup.

eyeshadow palettes were wide open, power dusted across the table and floor like a multicoloured snowstorm. lipstick tubes uncapped and their contents smeared across your tiny face in bold streaks of red and pink.

alessia's blush brush clutched in your tiny hand, its bristles now dipped in an alarming mix of colours.

noticing your mummy in the mirror stood behind you a small wince on her face as you turned and look to her with wide innocent eyes.

your lips - mostly your chin - coated in a sticky uneven layer of alessia's favourite lip gloss.

"mummy! i pretty like you" you declared proudly holding up the brush as if it was a magic wand.

alessia bit back a laugh, she wanted to cry over her ruined makeup but the sight of you so proud of your work melted away any frustration that was building.

"lovie," alessia said crouching down to your level as you sat on the vanity chair, "what have you done?"

you big smile faltered slightly, "i getting ready for the awards.. like you!"

alessia let out a small sigh, softening her tone, "lovie, you know you can't play with mummy's makeup like this. it's special to me and not for little girls"

your bottom lip trembled and alessia quickly reached out to wipe a bit of lipstick off your cheek. "it's okay but we're gonna have to clean this up together alright?"

you nodded solemnly your hands still clutching the brush and a half melted lipstick tube.

after cleaning up majority of the mess - and giving your face a thorough wipe, alessia was matching back into the guest room as you sat downstairs in the living room watching a programme in a fresh pair of pyjamas.

walking into the room, alessia flicked off the tv in the middle of the game gio was playing as she stood blocking the view of the tv.

"hey! alessia!" gio protested, glaring up at her as the gaming controller fell from his hands to his lap.

"don't you 'hey' me. you and him are supposed to be watching her" alessia gestures to downstairs. "you know where i found her? covered in my makeup! luca's asleep and your here playing a game i know you spent more than 12 hours a day playing!"

gio winced, sensing the slight frustration in his younger sisters tone, "she was quiet so i thought.."

"exactly! she was quiet that should have been your first clue!"

alessia didn't spare him any more words as she moved over to were luca lay sprawled out asleep on the bed. jabbing him slightly hard in the shoulder causing the boy to jolt up.

luca rubbed a hand over his face as he blinked groggily, "what's going on?"

"you're supposed to be helping watch lovie, not napping!"

"she's fine" luca mumbled defensively as his eyes fluttered closed again.

"erm she's wasn't actually, she was busy picasso-ing herself with my makeup in my room!"

luca groaned but alessia was already on her way back downstairs knowing her the makeup artist here to do her makeup would be waiting as she muttered under her breath about her useless brothers

as the makeup artist did the finishing touches as you sat comfortably in your mummy's arms getting your hugs in before alessia left as alessia couldn't help but chuckle at the memory of your colourful face.

you may have made a mess and ruined a bit of her makeup that she would no doubly have to replace but there wasn't anything she would trade it for then to have those memories with you.

she would however think twice about trusting her brothers with babysitting duties again...

[luxerians]

The Last Mask (18.2)

Hwang In-ho/Oh Young-il/Player 001 x Reader

Chapter 18.2 - Humanity [NSFW]

Story Masterlist

NEXT : Chapter 19

PREV : Chapter 17.2

SFW ver. : Chapter 18.1

[Hwang In-ho’s Flashback…]

It was during the first few minutes of the Seven-Legged Hexathlon when In-ho stood quietly beside player 423. Her brows furrowed slightly, her lips pressed together in concentration. She was focused. Almost too focused on the first two teams playing Tuho. He noticed the way her eyes tracked every throw, every movement as if she was absorbing every detail.

She wasn’t just watching; she was analyzing, preparing, worrying.

He had seen that kind of look before. People who tried to predict every outcome, tried to control what little they could in an unpredictable situation. He knew it well because he was the overseer of these games. He had watched and noticed everything throughout his times as the Front Man. And yet, something about the way she did it made him pause.

“Don’t be nervous. I’m sure you’ll do fine,” he said, stepping closer.

She turned to look at him, startled for a brief moment. He held her gaze and gave her a small, confident smile. “You said you did it often. I’m certain you’ve got skills.”

Her lips parted slightly as if she wanted to respond, but she hesitated. Instead, she lowered her gaze, something shifting in her expression.

“That was years ago. Now…”

Her voice trailed off, her eyes turning distant. Whatever she was thinking about, it wasn’t the game in front of her anymore. It was something else. Something heavier. In-ho recognized that kind of look, too. It was the look of someone recalling a nightmare without meaning to. He knew because he tended to do it too.

He stared at her intently, curiosity creeping in. What was she hiding? He knew loss when he saw it, knew the weight of burdens unspoken.

Out of nowhere, she shook her head, shaking away whatever thoughts that had taken hold of her. “My arms sometimes tremble uncontrollably. What if it messes up my aim?”

That’s when an idea sprang to his mind. An opportunity to lower her guard and manipulate her further. Without hesitation, In-ho responded, “Then I’ll hold your hands.”

It still felt odd, though. Manipulation or not, he wasn’t the kind of man who offered comfort. The Front Man wouldn’t care. The cold, detached persona he had built over years of isolation wouldn’t have said anything at all.

And yet, here he was, trying for someone he had only known for a short time.

Manipulation or not, maybe it was because she reminded him of something – of warmth, of his past self he had buried. Or maybe it was simply because he thought he was in control of everything. Yes, he is doing this to manipulate her, he convinced himself.

After completing the Seven-Legged Hexathlon, the group returned to the dormitory. In-ho, playing his part, apologized for failing the Spinning Top multiple times – even though he had done so intentionally. He was expecting little reaction, maybe even some teasing, but instead, you smiled warmly at him.

“It’s okay,” you said. “Everyone has moments like that, but you didn’t give up, and that’s what mattered.”

For a moment, In-ho just stared at you, caught off guard once again.

Your words always seemed to slip through his defenses, seeping into places he had long sealed off. It was unnerving how easily you could disarm him, how your warmth found cracks in the cold exterior he had spent years perfecting. It felt as if you had known him far longer than just these past few days. As if you saw through him. Not just the man he pretended to be, but the one he had buried beneath layers of control and calculation.

His eyes softened before he could stop them, and he smiled. Was it real? He wasn’t sure. He had been pretending for so long that even he couldn’t always tell.

Then, that moment came.

The smile on your lips turned fake. That’s when you told them. About your parents, about the weight of your family situation, and about the staggering 350 million won debt that had pulled you into this place.

In-ho watched you closely, reading every small detail.

The way you kept faking a smile, the way you tried to make it sound like everything was fine. But he saw the strain beneath it, the exhaustion of someone carrying far too much for far too long.

And something inside him tightened.

He knew that look all too well. The quiet acceptance of an unfair fate. He had worn it himself, once.

For the first time, his reaction wasn’t calculated. He simply watched you, feeling something unfamiliar creep into his chest. A quiet ache. A reluctant understanding.

And perhaps, just for a moment, he hated that he cared.

Not only that, but he felt an anger so deep it surprised him. The thought of anyone threatening you, forcing you into this situation, made his blood simmer with quiet rage. The image of you struggling under the weight of someone else’s cruelty refused to leave his mind.

These men had taken advantage of you, had pushed you into a corner with no way out. And now, standing here, watching you mask your pain with that forced smile, he knew one thing for certain.

Once these games are over, he would find them.

Soon enough, In-ho saw the full extent of your kindness. He watched the way you treated player 222. Of course, everyone who learned of her condition was gentle with her, but the way you cared for her was different. Softer, warmer, motherly and deeply sincere.

What he didn’t realize yet was how much he liked seeing that kindness spread from you to everyone else, including him.

He didn’t yet understand that he was drawn to you the way the tide is drawn to the moon. Inevitably, irresistibly, without question.

Then came the moment when everyone in the group began introducing themselves.

“My name is [Your Full Name],” you said next, offering a small smile. “I’ve never checked what it means.”

From the corner of his eye, In-ho noticed the others nodding in acknowledgment, but his focus stayed on you. He smiled to himself, content. Now he had your name.

Before joining the game as a spy, he hadn’t bothered learning the players’ names. Why would he? Ninety-nine percent of them wouldn’t make it to the end.

Now, however, knowing your name felt like something worth keeping.

“It sounds perfect for you. Beautiful, even,” he said.

Your reaction was immediate. Your head dipped, eyes lowering as if his words had caught you off guard. There was a flicker of shyness, an innocence to the way you absorbed his compliment. He stared at you quietly, taking in that moment before finally introducing himself.

“I’m Oh Young-il.”

“Young-il?” Player 390, whose name was Jung-bae, blinked.

“Yes,” In-ho gestured toward his player number. “Young-il sounds like ‘zero one,’ and that’s my number. Easy to remember.”

Player 388, Dae-ho, looked at him with amazement. “Oh, that’s true! Your name is your number!”

“What a coincidence,” you remarked, smiling. “Maybe the game makers noticed the connection and assigned you as 001 on purpose.”

In-ho’s smile widened in amusement, finding your comment inwardly hilarious. “Who knows? It does feel a little too perfect.”

***

“[Your name].”

In-ho’s head turned instinctively. Gi-hun had approached and now stood beside you on the staircase. It was right after the announcement of how much each surviving player would receive if the majority voted for X.

He didn’t even know why he reacted like that – instinctive and swift. It wasn’t even his real name, but hearing yours always seemed to pull his attention.

Gi-hun stared at you, his expression solemn.

“If the vote goes our way and we leave this game, memorize my phone number,” he said. “Contact me. I want to help you and your situation.”

Something dark curled in In-ho’s chest. There it is. He barely held back a scoff. That oh-so-heroic self. Trying to impress her that much, Gi-hun?

But Gi-hun had no idea what was running through In-ho’s mind. He kept going.

“I still have billions of won left. More than enough to help your family. If you’re more comfortable, we can arrange to meet somewhere. Maybe at a park or a subway station.”

Pathetic.

Gi-hun was dangling a solution in front of you, playing the role of savior like he always did. But what irritated In-ho more was your reaction. You looked amazed. Grateful, even. The appreciation in your eyes, the warmth in your voice as you responded, “Thank you. That would mean a lot.”

In-ho’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening. His gaze flickered between you both, the sight of it making his stomach churn. The idea of you meeting Gi-hun outside this game, of continuing this connection, of sharing moments beyond these walls. It unsettled him in a way he didn’t want to acknowledge.

If the majority voted X, you and Gi-hun would meet again. You’d talk, you’d share stories, you’d smile at him the way you sometimes smiled at In-ho now. And that displeased him more than it should have.

More than it ever should have.

Then In-ho spoke up, “I’d like to help as well.”

You turned to him swiftly, wide-eyed in astonishment. In-ho instinctively smiled, satisfied that your attention was back where it belonged – on him.

He added with a reassuring tone, “Whether it’s protection or financial support, I’ll do whatever I can. If we leave this place, let’s set up a meeting as well.”

Your cheeks tinged with a faint crimson before you bowed your head in gratitude. “Thank you so much, you two.”

In-ho nodded, but just as he looked up, his gaze met Gi-hun’s. The younger man was frowning at him. The two locked eyes, exchanging a silent but charged stare. Then, Gi-hun’s gaze flickered to the O patch on In-ho’s chest.

Oh? Is he doubting me because I voted to stay last time?

In-ho kept his voice even as he addressed Gi-hun directly. “Don’t worry. I want to stop here too.”

Gi-hun’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but something about his expression remained unreadable. In-ho thought that was the end of it. But then Gi-hun nodded and spoke again.

“Ah, right. You have a wife waiting for you at the hospital.”

Something snapped in In-ho. His jaw clenched, his body tensed, every nerve in his body suddenly alert. He didn’t need to glance at you to know that Gi-hun’s words hit you like a punch to the chest. He could feel the weight of your stunned silence, the realization crashing over you like a tidal wave.

He knew exactly what must be running through your mind. After all, there was something between you two. So subtle, yet undeniably alive. You and he had been moving toward something, slow and inevitable, changing the way he saw the world – changing him. You had altered something in his very chemistry, and he knew you felt it too.

But now?

Now you knew he was married. Or in your head at that moment, is married.

He didn’t need to ask to understand the kind of person you were. You were the type to respect boundaries, to step back the moment you realized there was a line you shouldn’t cross. You would let go, even if it hurt you, because you were that kind and selfless. And that realization made his stomach twist.

Sure, he should have told you. He should have explained everything. About his wife, about what had happened. But he had wanted to tell you on his own terms, when you were alone, when he had control over how the truth was revealed.

But Gi-hun had taken that choice away from him.

It wasn’t an accident. It was too perfectly timed, too deliberate. In-ho’s mind reeled. Could it be that Gi-hun had noticed? Had he seen something between you two?

Does he like you too?

Is he trying to put an end to whatever was growing between us?

His fists curled at his sides as he forced himself to keep his face neutral. But the damage had already been done. And worst of all, now you knew.

After the majority of players voted to stay in the games, In-ho’s eyes subconsciously searched for you. When he found you lying in bed, he gravitated toward you without thinking. But he wasn’t the only one. Dae-ho and Jun-hee were also approaching.

His gaze flickered to Gi-hun. There he stood, frozen in the middle of the X zone, drowning in despair over the result, over the players’ greed. In-ho should have enjoyed the sight, should have taken satisfaction in watching Gi-hun’s naive ideals crumble. This vote had proved In-ho right. These players weren’t victims. They had chosen to stay.

Yet, instead of smirking at Gi-hun’s misery, In-ho kept walking toward you.

When he reached your bed, he realized you were trying to sleep. It was obvious. You were disappointed too.

Dae-ho sighed beside him. “I’m disappointed too. Jung-bae voting for O? I didn’t see that coming. I felt like screaming, ‘Sir, what are you thinking?’ at him. He agreed with us to vote for going back home just moments before the vote.”

“It can’t be helped,” In-ho spoke up, his tone even. “People tend to change their minds once they’re standing at the voting counter.”

His eyes lingered on your face, searching for any sign that his presence had an impact on you. But there was none.

Was it because you knew about my marriage? Had that changed things between us already?

He didn’t like that thought. He didn’t like the uncertainty it brought.

He found himself staring longer than he should have, lost in thought, until movement from Dae-ho snapped him out of it. The man leaned against the pillar of your bunk bed, exhaling a heavy sigh. “I understand him, but… what was Jung-bae thinking?”

In-ho cast a dark glance at Dae-ho, who remained oblivious. He noticed it then – the way Dae-ho hovered, the way he was so quick to linger by your side.

Did he like you?

It made sense. You were warmth in a place like this, a rare softness amidst brutality. Of course, others would be drawn to you. But In-ho didn’t want that. He didn’t know why, but the thought of someone else getting too close to you made something stir inside him. Something possessive.

So he acted.

Without a word, he sat down at the far corner of your bed, closing the distance between you both. He was now the closest to you, closer than Dae-ho, closer than anyone else.

“There’s no use thinking about it now,” he said, his voice steady. “The votes are done. Let’s focus on staying together and winning the game again tomorrow.”

Then came the moment when you refused to get up and queue for dinner.

“Don’t be like that,” Dae-ho urged. “You’ll end up weak and all skinny tomorrow.”

A brief silence followed before you quipped, “I’m trying to go on a diet anyway, so it’s fine.”

Dae-ho waved off your excuse. “Haih, you look beautiful already. Now get up—”

Before he could continue, In-ho spoke up, his voice firm yet composed. “It’s okay. You two go on ahead. The queues are getting long. I’ll persuade her.”

Dae-ho and Jun-hee hesitated, but after a moment, they left.

In-ho turned back to you, watching as you remained lying in bed, unmoving, your disappointment in the voting result still weighing heavily on you. He then attempted to coax you into queuing for dinner, but you remained lying in bed. You had no appetite, no motivation, only a heavy frustration that dulled your sense of hunger.

In-ho knew at this moment that coaxing you further would be useless. But he could do something else. He could make sure you ate.

After all, the next game was the Mingle game. Running, speed, stamina. It would all matter. And you wouldn’t get far on an empty stomach.

So, without another word, he left and joined the dinner queue. When he reached the front, the worker guard supervising the line handed him a single set of a round bun and a carton of milk.

In-ho didn’t take it.

Instead, he reached straight into the box, his fingers closing around a bun and a milk carton. He slipped them smoothly into the pocket of his jacket, then grabbed another set as if nothing had happened.

The worker guard hesitated, momentarily stunned. Behind him, a manager noticed but did nothing. Of course, they wouldn’t stop him. They knew exactly who he was.

Without another glance, In-ho turned and walked away, making sure none of the other players saw what he had done.

In-ho arrived at your bedside and called your name softly. The moment your eyes fluttered open, he handed you your set of dinner. You frowned before resting your head back against the pillow.

“I don’t want to eat your dinner. Don’t worry about me,” you murmured.

In-ho was amused. Even after knowing about his marriage, even when he knew you were hungry, your kindness and concern for him still remained. That part of you hadn’t changed. He glanced around briefly before revealing another set of dinner from his jacket.

“It’s not mine,” he told you. “It’s yours.”

Your gaze shifted to the food in his hands. Two sets – two buns and two cartons of milk. Surprise flickered across your face as you slowly sat up, the blanket slipping down from your shoulders.

“You got two?”

“I took another set on your behalf,” he admitted, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Your eyes widened. “We can do that?”

His smile grew in amusement. “We can’t.”

You stared at him, perplexed. “Then how did you get two?”

He extended the dinner toward you again, his voice calm yet knowing. “I know what to say to the guards. My line of work taught me how.”

***

[Back to present…]

“I may have led this hell myself, but I will be the one to keep you from burning.”

You closed your eyes, torn between the storm inside you and the undeniable pull of his touch.

Sensing no resistance from you, In-ho pulled the blanket around your naked body. His movements were careful and tender as if handling something fragile. Once you clutched it closer around yourself, he kissed your temple before shifting away from you.

You watched in silence as he sat at the side of the bed, bent down and retrieved a radio from a pocket of his Front Man coat. He pressed the button and brought it close to his bare face. “What’s the status on my dinner?”

A static-filled voice responded, “Currently being prepared, sir. It will be delivered shortly.”

You stared at his side profile quietly, noticing how attractive he looked from this angle.

In-ho informed, “Make another serving. Bring them both to my room as usual.”

“Understood.”

He set the radio down and turned back to you. His hair, no longer slicked back with oil, was all over his forehead. He looked every bit the Young-il you grew to love. And oh, it melted your guard as you stared at him quietly. His eyes – which you had seen turned dark and ruthless more than once – were now looking back at you softly.

He looked away and got up from the bed. He went to grab a black towel, wrapping it around his hips. He then retrieved a glass and a water bottle from the cupboard behind his study desk, pouring the clear liquid into the glass before turning back to you.

Silently, he extended it toward you. You hesitated for a moment before taking it from him, bringing it to your lips and drinking deeply. The cool water soothed your dry throat, but it did nothing to ease the tension gripping your chest.

“Wait here and rest up,” he said, his voice steady. “I’ll call you when your dinner has arrived.”

“But Young—” you caught yourself, your lips pressing into a thin line before correcting, “I mean, In-ho. What will happen now? Will the games continue like usual?”

He met your gaze, but said nothing. His silence weighed heavier than any answer could have. You could see it in his eyes – this was the path he had chosen, the role he had accepted. The games would go on.

Disappointment settled over you like a thick fog, dimming whatever flicker of hope you had clung to. “What about our friends?”

Still, no answer. Just that same unreadable stare. A wall between you that you weren’t sure could ever be broken.

The sudden shrill ring of a wired telephone shattered the silence, making you flinch under the blanket. In-ho, too, tensed at the sound, his gaze snapping toward the door. His entire posture stiffened. You watched him carefully as he stared into space, contemplating.

Without turning back to you, he muttered, “Wait here.”

He strode to where his Front Man attire lay discarded on the floor. You observed as he put on his boxer and black pants and retrieved the dark coat, pulling it over his broad shoulders before reaching for the smooth, geometrical mask. He placed it over his face, transforming instantly from the man you knew into the enigma that ruled this place.

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you swathed in the blanket on his bed. You kept still, suppressing even your breathing as you sharpened your hearing, hoping to catch fragments of the conversation.

The ringing ceased, replaced by the deep, robotic distortion of his voice as he answered in fluent English.

“Front Man speaking.”

A pause stretched. You wished you could hear the other caller but the walls swallowed the words before they could reach you. Then, In-ho’s voice emerged again, composed and authoritative.

“Ensure they don’t get anywhere close to this location.”

Another beat of silence. Then, he added, “All eyes are on Player 456. We will not allow another incident.”

You inhaled sharply. He was talking about Gi-hun. A cold realization settled over you. Gi-hun was still seen as a threat. They were watching his every move, ensuring he wouldn't instigate another uprising.

A long pause followed. You assumed the call had ended when you heard the soft ding of the elevator from beyond the door. Your heartbeat quickened.

Footsteps. Several of them. Boots clicking against the polished black and gold floor. Then, In-ho’s voice echoed once more, deep and authoritative. “Place them in the dining room.”

More steps, followed by the faint creak of a door opening. Ten seconds later, you heard those footsteps again in the hallway before another ding of the elevator.

Seconds later, the door to the bedroom where you lay opened. It was In-ho, fully dressed in his Front Man attire except for the mask. He had removed it, and his hoodie was down.

“Our dinner has arrived,” he announced as he stepped inside, standing beside the bed. His gaze softened as he looked down at you. “Can you stand?”

With your hands clutching the blanket tightly around yourself, you shifted toward the side of the bed. That’s when a hand, palm up, hovered in front of you. You blinked, glancing up at him with wide, hesitant eyes. In-ho was offering his hand to you.

You hesitated, your gaze flickering between his eyes and his outstretched palm, before finally placing your hand in his. His fingers curled around yours, firm yet gentle, as he helped you rise from the bed. Your legs wobbled the moment your feet touched the floor, but his steady grip anchored you.

Before you could sway again, he slid an arm around your shoulders, drawing you closer against his chest. The warmth of his body radiated through the fabric of his clothing, and you gawked at him in quiet astonishment. The unexpected tenderness of the gesture, the close proximity of your bodies, left you feeling strangely breathless.

In-ho met your gaze, his expression calm and reassuring. “Let's go. I'll help you to the bathroom so you can clean up.”

Without another word, he guided you across the room, his arm remaining securely around your shoulders. Your naked form was still wrapped in the heavy black blanket from his bed, the fabric trailing along the floor as you moved. Yet, he seemed utterly unbothered by it. If anything, his focus was solely on ensuring you remained steady on your feet.

The two of you made your way toward the bathroom in silence. Each step sent a dull ache through your body, a lingering reminder of the intensity from earlier. But with In-ho's arm keeping you steady, the exhaustion felt more bearable.

You stepped into the opulent black and gold bathroom, feeling the contrast between the cool marble floor and your warm skin. A long, polished black marble sink stretched along one side of the room, adorned with gold-trimmed mirrors that reflected the soft, ambient lighting. The walk-in shower stood enclosed by sleek glass doors, its golden fixtures gleaming under the soft illumination. In the far corner, a luxurious bathtub rested as if waiting to cradle someone in its warmth.

In-ho guided you toward the shower, his arm still loosely wrapped around your shoulders. Stopping just before the glass door, he cautiously released his hold on you.

“You should take a shower first,” he said gently. “Then we can have dinner together.”

You nodded quietly, shifting slightly under his gaze. Your fingers hesitated before finally loosening the grip on the blanket wrapped around your form. The cool air brushed against your bare skin, making you shiver slightly.

Without a word, In-ho peeled the blanket off of you and folded it before he placed it over the marble sink. His movements were calm but when he turned back, his gaze darkened. His eyes roamed over your form, the once-calm expression clouded with something deeper. Something raw. Lust and longing flickered in his face, restrained yet unmistakable.

Your breath hitched as you noticed the way he was looking at you, heat rising to your cheeks. You quickly averted your gaze, pushing open the shower door as a means of breaking the tension. Stepping inside, you took a moment to examine the golden fixtures, scanning for a way to turn the water on.

Before you could figure it out, In-ho followed you inside, his presence looming close behind.

“Here,” he murmured, stepping forward. His fingers brushed against yours briefly before he reached up, adjusting the settings on the panel.

“This controls the temperature,” he explained, demonstrating how to find the right heat. Then, turning a different handle, he activated the rainfall shower above, letting warm water cascade down in smooth, steady streams. “And this is for the pressure.”

You stood still as the heat of the water mixed with the heat of his body near yours. The tension between you was thick, tangible. You swallowed hard, willing yourself to focus on the shower rather than the man beside you.

In-ho studied you for a moment longer before stepping back, his gaze lingering on your form. His voice was barely audible above the sound of the rainfall shower as he said, “I'll be outside when you're ready.”

With one last fleeting glance, he exited the shower, closing the glass door behind him. As the steam from the hot water filled the room, it obscured your view of him through the glass. By the time you lifted your gaze, he was already gone.

Dinner was quiet, tension thick in the air. The black and gold-themed dining room, though elegant, felt stifling. Both of you wore matching black bathrobes, fresh from the shower, the scent of soap still lingering.

You ate slowly, your mind too preoccupied to focus on the food. Across the table, In-ho watched you, his dark eyes lingering. There was something restrained in his gaze. Something dark and lustful.

Once the meal ended, In-ho stood and gestured for you to follow. You hesitated but eventually rose, trailing behind him through the grand halls.

The walk to his bedroom felt slow. When you entered the dimly lit space, unease settled in your chest. You sat on the bed as In-ho turned to the door. Without hesitation, he reached for the lock and twisted it shut. The soft click echoed, sending a shiver down your spine.

The next thing you knew, you found yourself kneeling on the floor next to the bed, with him standing upright in front of you. You shyly licked his cock, all the while feeling the intensity of In-ho’s gaze on you. He took in a sharp breath as your tongue made contact, his hands instinctively finding your hair. His fingers tangled into the strands, grip firm yet not forceful.

“Suck,” he commanded softly but clearly. His usually deep voice had turned husky, desire glazing his eyes. You paused for a moment, meeting his gaze before taking him into your mouth. The salty taste was foreign to you but not entirely unpleasant.

In-ho’s body tensed as you did so. He threw his head back, a low groan escaping from his throat. Your fingers grazed against the thick veins on his cock, feeling the pulse throb beneath your touch.

You continued, your lips and tongue working around him. His grunts and moans were sporadic, filling the room with intoxicating sounds of pleasure. You found it arousing, the way he reacted to your ministrations, watched as he lost control bit by bit.

His grip tightened in your hair as you took him deeper, the pressure of his fingers a stark reminder of the power dynamic between you two. His other hand found its way to your cheek, his thumb gently stroking across it in a soothing manner as if to reassure you.

“Slow down,” he instructed, his voice strained. “Take your time.”

You took a moment to adjust your pace, watching his reaction as you did so. In-ho's eyes were half-lidded, his gaze burning into yours. The intense look sent shivers down your spine, stirring an unfamiliar sensation in your core.

He let out another low groan as you slowly pulled away, a thin trail of saliva connecting you two briefly before breaking. His grip in your hair loosened slightly as you moved to lick at the base. You didn't miss the way his breath hitched at the change in stimulation.

As you continued working, In-ho's hand moved from your cheek to your shoulder, then down to gently grasp one of your breasts through your bathrobe. The sensation of his warm hand cupping you so intimately made you squirm, the tingling feeling spreading out from your center. His thumb brushed your nipple through the fabric, his touch lingering and firm. You gasped around him, the unexpected stimulation making you moan.

In-ho grunted in response, his grip on your hair tightening again. He took a step forward, forcing you to take his cock deeper and look up at him. His eyes were glazed over with desire, his breath coming in ragged pants.

“Look at me,” he commanded, voice quiet but firm.

You complied, meeting his intense gaze as your lips slid over him once more. The moan that slipped from his lips sent a thrill of satisfaction through you. Your hands gently gripped In-ho’s thighs for support, your head bobbing up and down as your lips slid over him.

The dim light from the lamp cast a golden glow on his skin, highlighting the way his muscles tensed and relaxed with each moan that escaped his lips. You could see the desire in his eyes, urging you to continue. His hand was tangled in your hair, his fingers gently pulling and directing your movements.

You could feel the heat between your bodies, your breaths coming in short pants as you worked to bring him to the edge of ecstasy. His body reacted to your every touch, his hips lifting in response and his chest rising and falling with heavy breathing. The sound of your soft gasps and moans mix with In-ho’s own pleasured moans.

The desire that filled the room was palpable, intoxicating. You could feel your own arousal building, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. His grip tightened in your hair as he let out a low groan. Your tongue swirled around him, coaxing more sounds from his throat; each one was a reward, further igniting the heat within you.

“Good girl,” In-ho breathed, his voice laced with pleasure. The praise sent a wave of warmth through you, spurring you on.

Eager to please him further, you reached up with one hand to cup his balls gently. He groaned louder at the additional stimulation, his hips bucking slightly.

In-ho’s grip on your hair tightened as he pulled you deeper into his hard cock, his intense gaze meeting yours. His voice was husky with desire, his hands holding your head firmly, when he spoke. “Can I take over?”

You nodded, a shiver running through you at the thought of giving yourself completely to him. In-ho’s dominant side was a huge turn on for you. You felt both frightened and anxious since it was your first experience, but you appreciated him taking charge in this scenario.

Without a word, he began to move your head back and forth along his length, setting a rhythm that had you both moaning. You could feel yourself getting lost in the pleasure; the taste of him on your tongue, the sensation of his cock sliding against the skin of your mouth, the sounds of his moans filling the room, and the sensations coursing through your body. Your hands were now free to roam over his thighs and stomach, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch.

His fingers gently guided your head up and down, his pace increasing slowly but surely. You could tell by the way his breathing became more erratic and his grip on your hair tightened even further that he was getting more and more aroused.

As he guided your head and movements, you gazed up at him with wide eyes, noticing that he was gradually losing control. His eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, now burned with unbridled lust. The sight of this normally composed man unraveling before you sent a thrill of power and arousal through your body. His grip on your hair became nearly painful - yet pleasurable - as he started to thrust faster.

“F-fuck,” In-ho grunted, his voice strained and ragged.

You tried your best to relax your throat, taking him as deep as you could while continuing to work your tongue along his thick shaft. The room filled with the sickening sound of wet, sloppy sucking as he eventually used your mouth mercilessly for his pleasure. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes from the intensity of it all, but you didn't stop him. You didn’t want to.

His hips now moved with a mind of their own, slamming forward and forcing his throbbing cock deep into your mouth and down your throat. The tip kissed the back of your throat with each violent thrust, gagging you again and again as drool spilled down your chin. Tears streamed down your face from the intense treatment of your mouth. Yet through the haze of tears and pain, you saw his face contort in pure concentration, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead as he chased his pleasure.

Despite the punishing pace and force of his thrusts, he showed no signs of slowing down or stopping. His stamina seemed endless as he used you like a mere object for his selfish gratification. You felt like a toy, a set of warm, wet holes for him to rut into. The realization sent a sick thrill through you, knowing you were truly at his mercy.

Minutes passed in this manner, your jaw aching and throat raw as he fucked your face with reckless abandon. Just as you thought your jaw would give out and your throat could no longer take the brutal pounding, In-ho slammed his hips forward one final time.

Your eyes widened in shock as he sheathed his throbbing cock deep into your mouth, the bulbous head kissing the entrance to your throat as he hilted inside you. You felt his shaft pulse and throb against your tongue as he began to unload thick, hot ropes of semen directly into your gullet.

The first spurt caught you by surprise, causing you to gag and convulse around his plunging cock. But his grip on your hair never wavered as spurt after heavy spurt of his potent seed pumped into your throat, forcing your neck to swallow convulsively.

You could only whimper and moan around his softening member as he emptied his heavy balls deep in your mouth and throat. The sheer volume of his release surprised you. It seemed to go on forever, your neck bulging slightly with each fresh gush of jizz.

Finally, with a last shuddering groan, he finished, his softening cock slipping out of your abused mouth with a wet pop. Pearly drops of semen clung to your swollen lips before dripping down onto your heaving chest.

You placed a shaky hand on the floor to support yourself, coughing and sputtering as you tried to regain your breath. Your other hand remained pressed against your mouth, feeling the tacky remnants of his release coating your fingers. As you blinked away the tears, you became vaguely aware of In-ho's heavy breathing filling the otherwise silent room.

Seconds later, you felt him crouch down beside you, one large hand coming to rest gently on your back.

“I’m sorry,” he began, his usually deep voice now laced with concern and regret, “for being rough with you. I got carried away.”

His voice was genuine, filled with remorse and regret. You could see it in his eyes too, the way they softened as he took in your disheveled state. His hand gently rubbed your back in soothing circles, a stark contrast to the brutal way he had just used you. Despite the throbbing pain in your jaw and throat, a thin smile crept onto your face.

“It's okay…” you managed to rasp out in between coughs, your voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. “I let you, didn’t I?”

A look of shock crossed his handsome features before being replaced by a hesitant smile. With his hand still gently rubbing your back, he murmured, “You're really something else.”

You could feel yourself growing sleepy as exhaustion began to creep up on you, the adrenaline of your earlier activities slowly wearing off. Sensing this, In-ho was about to carry you into his bed when you extended your hand to stop him, keeping him from coming any nearer. He gave you a surprised look, clearly taken aback by your avoidance.

You shook your head to him as if reassuring him. “I just need to go to the bathroom.”

Afterward, In-ho kept his distance but never let you out of his sight. He trailed you to the bathroom and even assisted in washing your face. For someone his age, he appeared quite attached as if he wanted to soak up every moment in your company.

Before long, In-ho assisted you onto the bed and joined you there. He draped the blanket over both of you and gently drew you back against his chest, enveloping you in his comforting warmth. His strong arm encircled your waist securely, while his fingers leisurely traced gentle patterns on your bare skin, crafting a calming rhythm that eased you deeper into relaxation.

You assumed it was over, and it was – for that night. However, the following morning, you were stirred from sleep by the sound of heavy breathing behind you and felt a persistent firmness pressing against your bare backside beneath the blanket. Gradually, you became aware that In-ho was either becoming aroused or experiencing morning wood.

Before you could fully wake up, you felt a persistent pressure against your backside as In-ho shifted positions slightly. The next thing you knew, his large hand was gripping your hip firmly as he guided his hard, thick cock to nestle between your soft buttocks. Your eyes widened as he began to grind against you, his hips moving in a slow, teasing rhythm.

That’s when he stopped. You felt him inching closer to your ear and he groggily spoke, “You awake?”

You gave a shy nod, then reached back to hold his hip with one hand. He interpreted this as permission and started to move. You could only let out a soft gasp as he slipped his cockhead past your tight entrance, pushing insistently against the resistant ring of muscle. Your body instinctively clenched around him but his persistence won out as he slowly sank into your hot, velvety depths with a low groan of satisfaction.

In one swift, powerful thrust, he buried himself balls-deep inside you. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as your body arched back against his chest. He didn't give you any time to adjust before he began to move, his hips drawing back until just the tip remained inside before slamming forward again, burying himself to the hilt.

He set a hard, deep pace as he pounded into you ruthlessly, his hand gripping your hip tightly enough to bruise. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin and your mingled moans and grunts filled the room as he took his pleasure from your pliant body.

Despite the brutal treatment of your body, you found yourself pushing back against his every thrust, matching his rhythm instinctively. The sensation was too intoxicating, a delicious mix of pain and pleasure that made your toes curl and spine tingle. Tears sprang to your eyes again from the sheer intensity of it all, but you merely moaned and whimpered it all out.

He wasn’t gentle, nor did he give you any respite. His thrusts were unrelenting and savage as he used your body to sate his need. But in an odd way, you relished the rawness of it all – the primal need that In-ho unabashedly expressed through his brutal lovemaking. You ended up loving his aggression and roughness.

Time seemed to blur as he continued to pump into you relentlessly, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins. His thick cock stretched you open with each movement, filling you with an intensity that left you gasping for breath.

Next round later, you found yourself straddling In-ho's hips, his large hands gripping your waist tightly as you rode him with fervor. Your hair was a wild mess, sweat-dampened strands clinging to your flushed cheeks and neck. The room was filled with the rhythmic slap of skin against skin and the erotic sounds of your moans and his grunts echoing off the walls.

In-ho's eyes, dark and intense, watched you intently as you bounced on his thick cock. He seemed transfixed by the way your breasts jiggled with each movement, the creamy mounds glistening with a sheen of sweat. His grip on your hips tightened, guiding you to take him deeper and faster.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he grunted, his voice ragged and rough with lust. “So good taking my cock so well.”

His words sent a thrill through you, spurring you to ride him harder and faster. You could feel every thick inch of him stretching you open, filling you completely. The pleasure was almost too much to bear.

Your hips moved with a frenzied rhythm, bouncing on his lap as sweat dripped down your flushed skin. In-ho’s hands held onto your hips tightly as he thrust upwards to meet your movements. Each plunge sent a ripple of pleasure through your body, causing you to moan and writhe in ecstasy. His face was contorted with pleasure, his dark eyes watching every move as you took him deep inside you. Your bodies were slick with sweat and your moans filled the air, creating an erotic symphony that echoed throughout the room.

The room was filled with the sound of skin hitting skin, like the drumbeat of a wild and passionate dance. Wet squelching and slapping noises echoed throughout the room as In-ho's cock plunged into your semen-filled pussy again and again, his hips meeting yours with a primal rhythm. The sound of your moans and the slickness of your sweat adding to the intensity.

“Come on,” he commanded, his voice strained with impending release. “Use me. Come over my cock.”

Your eyes met his in a heated stare, the intensity of his gaze causing a spark of need to ignite within you. His words were a catalyst that incited your primal instincts, driving you to abandon any remaining inhibitions. With a desperate nod, you continued to grind against him, your movements growing more frantic until pleasure consumed your senses, making your eyes roll back and your mouth open in a silent scream.

His hands gripped your waist tighter as he thrust up ferociously, the rhythm wild and uncontrolled. The intensity was overwhelming, the pressure coiling tightly within you, pushing you both to the precipice of release. Just as you felt the impending rush of orgasm, he pulled you down hard onto his cock one final time.

“Now!” he growled commandingly. The command was all it took for your body to finally surrender to the waves of pleasure that washed over you. Your muscles tightened around him as an intense orgasm rocked through you, your cries echoing around the room.

Your body shuddered and convulsed, overcome by the explosive force of your climax. A scream of pure ecstasy tore from your throat as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashed over you. Your inner walls clenched and fluttered around In-ho's throbbing cock, gripping him like a vice as your orgasm reached its peak.

But In-ho was far from satisfied. Even as you trembled and gasped through the aftershocks, he gripped your hips tightly, fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises. With a feral growl, he slammed upwards, burying himself to the hilt inside your still-spasming pussy.

“Fuck, I'm not done with you yet,” he snarled through gritted teeth, his eyes wild and consumed with lust. He began to pound into you with renewed vigor, each powerful thrust shaking your entire body and forcing moans from your raw throat.

Despite the sensitivity of your overstimulated flesh, you found yourself meeting his rough thrusts eagerly, your hips undulating in tandem with his. The knowledge that he was still so hard, still so hungry for you, only fueled your own rekindled arousal.

Your hands rested on his damp chest, allowing him to take over. Even though he was beneath you, he wasn't losing control or submitting to you. Instead, he took control of your body and cunt all the time in complete dominance. His forceful and swift thrusts caused you to collapse onto his chest. As your bare chests brushed against each other, you gazed at him with half-closed eyes and parted lips.

Without warning, In-ho placed a hand on the back of your head and pressed his lips firmly against yours. Your tongues intertwined in a passionate dance as he continued to thrust into you repeatedly.

Lost in the throes of passion, you could only cling to him as he took you with wild abandon. Your nails dug into his chest, leaving red crescents in their wake as he drove into you relentlessly. Each powerful thrust sent jolts of pleasure-pain shooting through your sensitive nerve endings, stoking the fires of your rekindled arousal.

In-ho's grip on your hips tightened, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises as he slammed up into your still fluttering pussy. The wet, obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your desperate moans and his harsh grunts.

In-ho's hips snapped upwards sharply, burying himself to the hilt in your dripping heat. The head of his cock kissed your cervix, sending a bolt of pleasure zinging up your spine. You could feel him growing even harder, his member swelling and twitching inside your clinging sheath.

“Fuck… I’m… close!” he grunted, each word punctuated by a sharp thrust. His face was a mask of concentration, jaws clenched and eyes squeezed shut as he chased his rapidly approaching climax.

Suddenly, with a groan, he slammed into you one final time, grinding his pelvis against yours as his cock jerked and spasmed violently inside you. Searing hot ropes of his seed gushed from his pulsing member, painting your insides white as he emptied his heavy balls deep in your womb.

Panting heavily, you collapsed against In-ho's sweat-slicked chest as the last spurts of his release trickled inside you. His heart raced beneath your ear, matching the frantic pounding of your own. Slowly, you became aware of the hot, sticky fluid seeping out around his softening cock, dripping down to stain the sheets beneath you.

In-ho kept his arms wrapped around you possessively, holding your limp body against his as he caught his breath. His hands slid up and down your back soothingly, almost lovingly. He pressed soft kisses to your hair, your temple, your cheek, murmuring words of praise and apologies.

“I’m sorry… again… for being rough…” he murmured, his voice low and rough from exertion. “You’re amazing… thank you for trusting me…”

You could only hum softly in response, too spent and sated to form coherent words. Your body felt deliciously sore and used, every inch of your skin tingling from his touch.

***

Several hours later, after sharing a shower, you both found yourselves in his bedroom. In-ho was getting dressed in his Front Man outfit, while you, still wrapped in your black bathrobe, searched the room for something.

He noticed and pointed. “Your clothes are over there.”

You followed his gesture and saw black pants and a matching trench coat. It looked just like his outfit, but there was no geometric mask for you.

After a moment of hesitation, you asked, “Where’s my uniform?”

In-ho turned to you, his dark eyes locking onto yours. His hair was still messy from the shower, hanging over his forehead. He looked you over before asking with a neutral expression, “What uniform?”

“My manager uniform,” you clarified.

He looked away, adjusting his coat. His posture stiffened as he responded, “You don’t need to disguise yourself as a manager anymore. You can stay here until the games are over.”

Your eyes widened. “Are you serious? You can’t keep me locked up here the entire time.”

“I’m not,” he said simply. He finished adjusting his coat and turned back to face you, his expression unreadable. “You’re safer here. You won’t have to worry about getting caught.”

You shook your head. “But I still want to wear the disguise.”

His gaze hardened. “You want to help them in the next game, don’t you?”

You didn’t answer. He had figured it out instantly. He knew you were thinking about your friends – Jun-hee, Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Dae-ho, Yong-sik and his mother, Hyun-ju. Even Se-mi, who had been difficult to trust you, was on your mind.

Instead of confirming it, you asked, “Is that wrong?”

He stared at you with a conflicted expression. Something about this moment made him hesitate. It was as if there was something he didn’t want you to know.

“You can’t help much for the next game,” he finally said.

You blinked, caught off guard by his words. The statement confused you. Worry crept in as you thought about your friends, who were about to play the fifth game. If you couldn’t do anything, did that mean they were in serious danger? What kind of game was it that even a disguised manager couldn’t intervene?

You stared at him wide-eyed. “What’s the next game?”

In-ho looked at you like he had been expecting the question but dreaded it. He didn’t answer. His hesitation only fueled your curiosity.

“What is it?” you pressed softly.

He looked away, casting his gaze down. His jaw tightened as he seemed to struggle with himself. Finally, after a long pause, he admitted, “The next game is called ‘Why Did You Come to My House.’”

You frowned. You recognized that children’s game. It was a team-based competition where one side had to take over all the members of the other team to win. But something didn’t add up. How could a game like that lead to player eliminations?

A heavy silence settled between you. In-ho glanced at you, noticing your confusion. He quickly averted his gaze before speaking again, “The surviving players will be separated randomly into either the blue or red team.”

Without another word, he turned toward the door. You could tell there was more he wanted to explain, so you followed him. The next room was dimly lit, its centerpiece a mannequin dressed in a black suit with a golden animal mask covering its head.

In-ho stopped before the dressing table. He reached for a small bottle of men’s hair oil, pouring a little into his hands before combing his hair back neatly. The slicked-back style made his sharp features even more defined. As he worked, he continued his explanation.

“Before they are taken to the next game’s location, the players will queue in front of a giant gumball machine. Each player will take a turn and receive either a red or blue ball. They will be split into two teams, regardless of their X or O patch.”

In-ho set down the bottle of hair oil and glanced at you through the mirror. His expression remained unreadable, but there was an unease in the way he carefully adjusted his collar.

“How much do you know about Why Did You Come to My House?” In-ho asked.

“A lot,” you replied. “Players split into two teams. One person from each team plays rock-paper-scissors to decide who attacks first. The two teams then stand in parallel lines, holding hands. The game begins with the defending team moving forward singing the first line of the song while the attacking team steps back. Then the attackers step forward singing the second line. The defenders ask, ‘Which flower?’ and the attackers name a player to steal. That named player faces an opponent in rock-paper-scissors. If they lose, they move into the attacker's team. If they win, they stay. This continues until one team takes all the players.”

In-ho adjusted his hair, his fingers running through it as he gave a slight nod. “That’s right. But the rules are different this time.”

You swallowed hard. The way he said it sent a chill down your spine. “What’s changed?”

He turned to you, his expression sharp. “Players still form two teams, but now, each round, both teams pick one player to face off in rock-paper-scissors. The loser isn’t just switching teams anymore. They will be eliminated.”

Your breath caught. “Eliminated? As in…”

“Yes,” In-ho said. “They’re removed from the game entirely. The rounds continue until one team loses all its players. The survivors on the winning team move on.”

Silence settled between you. The game had transformed into something far more brutal. There would be no second chances, no coming back. Just win, or disappear.

The moment the words left In-ho’s mouth, a wave of emotions crashed over you. Shock paralyzed your body. Another simple childhood game turned into a merciless execution? Your stomach twisted as the reality of it set in. Your friends, the people you had fought to protect, would be forced into a game where their survival hinged on nothing more than a hand gesture. The thought made you feel sick.

But there must be some way to stop it. Some loophole, some hidden rule that could be exploited. But as you looked at In-ho’s face, the hardened gaze he wore like armor, you knew there was none. His silence only confirmed it.

You could imagine Jun-hee, her hands cradling her belly protectively as her soft eyes darted around. You thought of Gi-hun, his stubbornness keeping him upright even as fear gnawed at his resolve. Dae-ho, Jung-bae, Hyun-ju, Yong-sik, his mother. All of them, at the mercy of this game. A game where luck decided their fate.

Then came the sadness. A deep, suffocating grief at the thought of losing them. The bonds you had formed weren’t just for survival. They had become your family. And now, one by one, they would be taken from you. The worst part was knowing you could do nothing to stop it. You had never felt so powerless.

But beneath all that pain, another emotion burned hotter, stronger. Betrayal.

Your fists clenched, your nails digging into your palms as you turned to In-ho. The man who had sheltered you, who had given you a role that kept you safe, was the same man overseeing this massacre.

“How could you let this continue?” you demanded, your voice barely above a whisper, but laced with anger.

In-ho sighed before he looked away. “These are the rules. The games have to continue.”

“Not like this!” you snapped. “Not them! They don’t deserve this!”

He replied, his voice colder now, as he stared at himself in the mirror. “But the games go on regardless of what we think. Regardless of what I think.”

You took a step closer, forcing him to meet your glare through the mirror. “But you have the power to stop it.”

“It isn’t that easy,” he turned and looked back at you. “Do you think I own this room? That I started this place? Do you think I’m the only one pulling the strings?”

“You enforce it,” you shot back. “You make sure it happens. You wear that mask and pretend you don’t care, but you do. I know you do. I saw the way you cared about Jun-hee.”

For the first time, a flicker of something flashed across In-ho’s face. A crack in the carefully constructed armor he always wore. But it was gone in an instant.

“It doesn’t matter what I feel,” he said, his voice quiet. “This is not the first time a pregnant player participates. It won’t change anything.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs. “So you’ll just let them die?”

He exhaled slowly, his eyes dark with something unreadable. “That’s how this place works. That’s how it’s always worked everywhere.”

The words stung, but they weren’t enough to shake your fury. “And you’re okay with that?”

Silence.

That was all the answer you needed.

You took a step back, feeling the weight of the conversation settle on your shoulders. It was suffocating. You had thought, maybe foolishly, that In-ho still had some shred of humanity left. That beneath the mask and the cold exterior, there was a part of him that regretted all of this. Maybe there was. But it wasn’t enough.

“So…” you stared at him in disbelief and shock. “Gi-hun was right, after all. You saw us like horses. We’re just trashes to you.”

In-ho’s reaction was immediate. His eyes widened slightly as if you had struck something deep within him. His usual unreadable expression faltered, the cracks in his composed mask growing more visible. He looked like he wanted to say something, but no words came. His lips parted, then pressed into a thin line, hesitation flickering across his face.

You glowered at him, the weight of everything suffocating. Without another word, you spun on your heel and marched into the bedroom. Your heart pounded as you scanned the room, searching for something. The floor was clean, no discarded clothes or signs of disorder. Your gaze landed on his study desk. There, neatly folded on the chair, was your square guard’s hot pink jumpsuit.

You didn’t hesitate. You grabbed it and swiftly started putting it on. Your movements were sharp, fueled by a mix of adrenaline and anger. You slid your legs in first, then pulled the sleeves over your arms. As you zipped it up, the door behind you creaked open.

“What are you doing?” In-ho’s voice carried disbelief and frustration.

You didn’t turn around. “I’m going back out there.”

“You can’t,” he said, stepping further into the room. “It’s too dangerous.”

You scoffed, adjusting the jumpsuit. “And it’s not dangerous for them? For Gi-hun, for Jun-hee, for the others? They don’t even have a choice, but I do. And I’m not staying here while they’re out there fighting for their lives.”

In-ho exhaled sharply. “The other guards will not stand by and let you ruin the games.”

Finally, you turned to face him. His hair was neatly slicked back. His expression was a storm of conflicting emotions. Anger, concern, something else buried beneath it all.

You asked pointedly, “But will they shoot me once they know who I am?”

He stayed silent, his gloved hands balling into fists at his sides.

“That’s what I thought,” you muttered, brushing past him toward the door. But before you could reach it, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist.

“Stop,” he said, his voice lower now, almost desperate. “You think you can handle this by yourself? Do you think you can stop games that have been operating for more than thirty years so easily? Stopping this place wouldn’t stop this operation completely.”

You yanked your wrist free. “Maybe not. But at least I won’t be watching from the sidelines while my friends die.”

His jaw clenched, his eyes dark with frustration. “If you get exposed, it will be hard for me to cover you.”

“I don’t care.”

He exhaled deeply as if trying to steady himself. “No matter what you do, don’t do anything rash. I care about you, but if you—”

“Then help me save them, please,” you pleaded, cutting him off.

“Them?” In-ho’s eyes narrowed as he regarded you. “Do you mean you want to save all of them? Even the ones who only care about themselves? Even someone like player 100?”

You fell silent, momentarily caught off guard by his reaction. It was in that instant you realized his defenses were beginning to crack, exposing a glimpse of the deeply held beliefs he had tried so hard to mask. 

“I want to save whoever I can,” you said firmly.

In-ho scoffed, shaking his head. “That’s naive.”

He turned away for a moment as if trying to compose himself. Then, when he faced you again, his expression was steeled with something harsher. “Some of them deserve this.”

You frowned, unsure if you had heard him correctly. “Deserve what?”

“The games,” he stood rigidly as he observed your reaction, his voice taking on a colder edge. “You think everyone here is innocent? That they all got caught up in this unfairly? That’s not true. Some of them are here because of their own selfishness. Their greed. Their complete disregard for others."

He stepped closer, his gaze intense. “Do you know what player 100 did? He borrowed billions from desperate people, promising high returns, only to vanish with their savings. He destroyed families. And player 226? He pushed his own brother into ruin just to escape his own debt, but still it isn't enough for him. Tell me, do they deserve your sympathy?”

You hesitated.

“People like them,” he continued, his voice laced with conviction, “are the reason this world is broken. They climb over others, they exploit, they lie, and when they fall, they expect to be saved. Why should you risk yourself for them?”

You stayed quiet, giving him space to speak. You wanted to see what was hidden behind his guarded expressions, to understand his views and the way he managed these games. You had fallen for Oh Young-il, but you still needed to know more about Hwang In-ho. The man behind the mask. The enforcer of the rules.

A lump formed in your throat, but you swallowed it down, pushing forward.

“Then what about me?” you asked, your voice steady despite the unease in your chest. “Am I a trash in your eyes too?”

In-ho stiffened. His jaw clenched, his fingers curling into his palms. His breath came slower, heavier as if you had struck something deep within him. For a long moment, he didn’t respond, and the air between you felt heavier than ever.

Finally, he exhaled sharply, his gaze locking onto yours. “You’re different.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs.

“How so?” you asked, your voice softer now, wary of his answer.

In-ho’s gaze wavered just slightly. “You…"

Your breath caught in your throat. Your eyes widened, anticipation shimmering in them like a reflection of the truth you had been waiting to hear. It felt like the answer was right there, hanging in the air, waiting to be spoken. A confirmation of something unspoken yet deeply felt. It felt like this answer would determine everything – whether you could trust him, whether there was a future for the two of you at all.

But just as the moment reached its breaking point, a sharp, static crackle interrupted it. The radio inside In-ho’s coat pocket buzzed to life, and the distorted voice of the masked officer cut through the heavy silence.

“Captain, the VIPs have arrived.”

The words shattered the fragile space between you like glass meeting concrete. In-ho’s expression stiffened instantly, the vulnerability in his eyes vanishing behind a hardened mask. He reached into his coat, pulling out the radio, his grip tightening around it as if bracing himself.

He pressed the button and told through the radio, “Understood. I will be there.”

He put away the radio and turned to you. “They’re here earlier than expected. I have to go.”

The abrupt shift left you feeling unsteady as if the ground beneath your feet had tilted. The moment that had almost happened between you was gone, yanked away by the cruel reality of where you both stood.

In-ho walked back toward the door and said without looking back, “Stay here.”

You glared at his back, frustration boiling inside you. Like hell you were going to sit here while your friends fought for their lives. Without a second thought, you grabbed your manager mask from the table and followed him out into the hallway.

As you caught up, you saw him raise his Front Man mask and fit it over his face, the sharp angles making him look as unreadable as ever. You stood behind him and said with a firm tone, “There’s no way I’m standing aside and watching my friends die.”

He didn’t stop moving. Your voice remained low yet insistent as you added, “Is there something you can do? Anything? Can you let them live even if they get eliminated?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he turned around and kept walking. He exited the dressing room and into the hallway. You followed him like an aimless kitten. His silence dragged the tension between you to its breaking point.

You wanted to grab his arm, force him to stop, but something about the way he carried himself told you that he was already at war with whatever answer he would give.

Suddenly, he halted in the middle of the hallways. It’s as if he knew that you were following him and would not stop unless he gave a clear answer.

He let out a slow breath and spoke up, voice distorted and robotic behind that mask. “If I do that, it will go against everything I enforce in these games.”

You frowned, frustration simmering beneath your skin. You took a step closer until you stood right beside him. With his body still facing the door and yours facing him, you asked, “What exactly do you uphold in these games?”

He turned his head slightly, just enough so you could see the sharp lines of his mask in the dim light.

“Fairness,” he said. “Equality. Players and guards alike. The rules apply to everyone.”

You exhaled, the ache in your chest growing heavier. “But this is different. Their lives matter too. Couldn’t you change that? Just this once? Just for them only.”

You hesitated before continuing, your voice barely above a whisper as you counted your friends who were still playing. “Jun-hee, Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Dae-ho, Yong-sik and his mother, Hyun-ju, Se-mi, and also Myung-gi. Couldn’t you hide them if they get eliminated, and just let the O players finish the games.”

Silence stretched between you. In-ho stood still, his masked face tilted slightly downward as if staring at you. He didn’t speak. He didn’t move. He simply watched you, the stillness making your heart pound harder. Was he considering it? Was there a part of him that wanted to agree?

Seconds passed. Then a minute.

You held your breath, waiting for something. Anything. The soft hum of distant machinery filled the space, but all you could focus on was him. The way he was standing. The way his head was slightly bowed as if your words had reached a place within him that even he wasn’t sure existed anymore.

Then, finally, he inhaled slowly.

“If I do that,” he said at last, his voice low, careful, “I put everything at risk. Myself. The structure. The rules that keep this place from falling apart.”

You swallowed hard. “But what happens if you don’t? What happens when you watch them die, knowing you could’ve done something?”

A flicker of hesitation. You saw it in the way his posture shifted, in the way his fingers twitched ever so slightly at his sides. He had thought about this before. Maybe not about your friends specifically, but about something like this. About the cost of playing his role.

“I don’t have the luxury of questioning these things,” he finally muttered.

You stepped closer, your voice softer now, almost pleading. “Then why are you hesitating?”

He turned fully to face you now. “Because you’re asking me to break the rules. To compromise everything I’ve built to keep order.”

“And I’m asking you to remember that you’re human.”

Another silence stretched between you. You could feel it crackling in the air, the tension thick and suffocating. He was fighting something inside himself, something he didn’t want to admit.

For the first time since you had known him, he looked at you in long silence as if he wasn’t sure of himself. As if, just maybe, you had found the one crack in his armor that he had spent years trying to keep hidden.

And you wanted to put more cracks in his wall. Stepping closer, you tilted your head up, meeting his gaze with wide, unwavering eyes. The height difference made you appear smaller, but there was nothing fragile about the way you spoke. Your voice was soft, yet edged with something sharp.

“If you can’t do anything, then fine,” you said. “But if they die, I will hate you.”

In-ho remained silent. He took in the restrained fury burning behind your eyes, the way your body stood tense, ready to pounce like a mother cat protecting her own.

You exhaled slowly, steadying yourself. “Is this who you want to be? A man who lets people die because everyone is like a trash to him? A man who stands by and watches when he could’ve made a difference?”

Still, no answer. You shook your head.

“I refuse to believe you’ve lost every part of yourself,” you said. “The man I see now… the one who hesitates, who lingers on my words… he is not a machine. He is not just a mask. And I don’t think he wants to be.”

Silence stretched between you.

His posture remained rigid, but his breathing had changed. A fraction deeper. A fraction slower. Like something was unraveling inside him, thread by thread.

You sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to answer. You didn’t know if your words got through his wall – his mask. But you couldn’t linger here any longer. Your friends’ lives mattered more.

Reaching for your manager mask, you pulled it over your face, the smooth surface cool against your skin. Without another word, you turned and strode toward the elevator. You pressed the down button, and almost immediately, the doors slid open.

Stepping inside, you turned around just in time to see him still standing in the same spot, unmoving. He looked frozen in place as if caught between the choice of letting you go and calling you back.

Then, just as the elevator doors began to close, the radio in his coat crackled to life.

“Captain, the VIPs are looking for you,” came the masked officer’s distorted voice from the other end.

The last thing you saw before the doors shut was In-ho, his body stiffening at the summons. And then he was gone, swallowed by the mechanical whir of the elevator descending.

***

You were in a storage room somewhere within the game management facility. Your mask was off, clutched tightly in your hand. Sweat clung to your skin, making strands of hair stick to your face. You stared at the floor, lost in thought, your mind racing through everything you had just learned.

“So that’s the next game,” Gyeong-seok murmured, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

You had managed to find him and 011 among the sea of soldiers. 011, ever the cautious one, had led you both to this storage room, away from prying eyes.

You had told them everything you knew – or almost everything. You had carefully left out certain details: the true identity of the Front Man, his past as player 001, and most importantly, your involvement with him. Some things were too dangerous – and embarrassing for you – to reveal.

011, her own mask discarded on the table beside her, exhaled. Her dark hair clung to her skin just like yours as she said, “I’m surprised he told you that much.”

“Is there any loophole to save them?” you asked, voice tight with urgency. If anyone knew the inner workings of the games well enough to find an opening, it was her.

011’s gaze flickered, scanning your expression before she responded. “This game had been played twice throughout my years here. The way I see it... I think we can't do much.”

You and Gyeong-seok were stunned, the color draining from your faces as her words sank in. The latter straightened slightly from the wall and said, “Are you sure?”

She lowered her gaze, unable to meet his forlorn expression. With a heavy sigh, she said, “In this game, the soldiers shoot the players who lose rock, paper, scissors on the spot, just like in the Seven-Legged Hexathlon and the Open, Dongdaemun game. We can't change that. If some soldiers discreetly lead certain players to an isolated area for an out-of-sight elimination, it would raise too many questions.”

You lowered your gaze, staring at the floor, your mind racing for any possible way to save your friends. The more you thought about it, the more impossible it seemed. Every scenario ended the same way. With them being forced to play, with them losing, with them being gunned down in front of everyone.

Hopelessness settled into your bones. You felt so small, so powerless. It was suffocating. But you couldn’t accept it. There had to be a loophole somewhere. A flaw in the system. Something they hadn’t accounted for. You just had to find it.

Just as despair threatened to take over, 011 spoke up, “But there is a way…”

Your head snapped up, and Gyeong-seok turned sharply, both of you staring at her with wide, hopeful eyes. She hesitated, her gaze flickering between you both before she looked away. The weight of what she was about to say was clear in her hesitation.

“What is it?” Gyeong-seok asked in a hopeful tone.

011 let out a heavy sigh, crossing her arms. “There’s an underground cave that leads to the ocean below us. Dive packs and oxygen tanks are stored there already. If I can make it there, I’ll swim to the nearest island and find help.”

You blinked, trying to process what she had just said. “Wait… there’s a way off this place?”

She nodded. “Yes. But it’s not simple. While the access to get there is easy, CCTVs are everywhere. If I’m caught in the live feed, the masked officer or the Front Man will be alerted.”

Gyeong-seok narrowed his eyes. “That's risky.”

011 met his gaze, her expression firm. “It is. But there is another access to get there. It's in the kitchen. But workers are regularly passing that room.”

You perked up. “Workers?”

011 nodded to you. “Yes, workers. This is where you could divert their attention as a manager.”

You swallowed hard, the idea beginning to take shape in your mind. “How far is the swim?”

“Roughly two kilometers,” she answered. “It won’t be easy, but there are dive packs.”

Your stomach twisted at the thought of her out in open water, alone, with no guarantee she would make it. But what other option did you have? Staying meant watching your friends die one by one. Leaving meant at least trying to fight back.

Gyeong-seok stepped closer to 011, his voice firm. “I’ll come with you.”

011 seemed taken aback. “No. You stay here.”

“It is unsafe for you in the open ocean alone,” he insisted, locking eyes with her. “I will go with you.”

011 stared at him with quiet intensity, her hard gaze softening into doe-eyes for him. You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was an unspoken tension between them. While 011 had always kept her distance from both you and Gyeong-seok, it suddenly became clear. There was a reason she had chosen to save him in the first place. It was thanks to him that she saved you too.

Finally, 011 turned to you. “Will you be okay staying here alone?”

You nodded without hesitation. “Yes. You two just go ahead. I will do whatever I can to keep them safe.”

With that, the plan was set.

011 led you toward the kitchen, guiding you through the corridors like she knew them by heart. As she had said, workers swarmed the kitchen, moving in and out like a colony of ants. The scent of food filled the air, mingling with the tension thick in your chest.

You straightened your posture, adopting the authoritative presence of a manager. With short, clipped orders, you directed the circle guards away, telling them to fetch supplies elsewhere. They obeyed without a question. Soon, the kitchen was empty, save for you, 011, and Gyeong-seok, now in disguise.

011 wasted no time. She turned off the lights, plunging the room into a dim haze. You locked the doors behind you, ensuring no one would walk in unexpectedly. Then, she and Gyeong-seok pushed a massive freezer away from the wall, the heavy metal scraping against the tiled floor.

Behind it was a crawl-sized hole, just big enough for a person to slip through.

“This is it,” 011 said, turning to you. “Please wait for us. We will alert the authorities as fast as possible.”

You swallowed hard, nodding. “Be careful.”

She nodded wordlessly before slipping through the hole, Gyeong-seok following close behind. Under 011's guidance, he grabbed the chain tied to the back of the freezer and pulled it back into its original position.

You exhaled slowly, turning back toward the locked door. Now came the hardest part: waiting.

***

You had returned to the control room, hands moving over the monitor as you operated the live feeds. Only the masked officer stood supervising the room, overseeing the overall operation. As you worked, your gaze occasionally flicked to the dormitory’s feed.

The players had just woken up. Your eyes scanned for your friends, and soon, you noticed a gathering. A small crowd had formed around one bed in the X zone. Your stomach tightened.

Before you could observe longer, the elevator chimed. The sound made your shoulders stiffen. You turned slightly, just enough to see the doors slide open, revealing Hwang In-ho clad in his full Front Man attire. His presence alone made the air in the control room heavier. He stepped out, surveying the space with his usual scrutiny. Instinctively, you looked away, forcing your attention back on the feeds, watching as pink guards moved through the halls.

You could feel his gaze lingering on you. It burned through your back, making every movement at your console feel heavy and scrutinized.

You couldn’t believe you had slept with him… multiple rounds. You had slept with the overseer of this whole operation. You pursed your lips to a thin line beneath your manager mask and mused, Gosh, you really are a whore.

“What’s the status on the players’ breakfast?” In-ho finally spoke in his deep, distorted voice behind that mask.

The masked officer, standing near the main monitors, turned toward him. “They are ready to be distributed.”

In-ho gave a curt nod. “And the next game’s preparations?”

“Everything is on schedule,” the masked officer responded. “We expect to begin at the designated time.”

Before In-ho could reply, static crackled through the masked officer’s radio. “Officer, we have a situation in the dormitory.”

Both the Front Man and the masked officer turned their attention to the monitors. You stole another glance at the live feed, your heart pounding faster. The cluster of players in the X zone had grown, figures moving frantically around the same bed.

“What is it?” the masked officer asked.

The guard on the other end hesitated for a moment before replying, “It appears a player is giving birth.”

Your breath caught. Your fingers froze over the console. Your eyes widened.

Jun-hee is giving birth.

SFW ver. : Chapter 18.1

NEXT : Chapter 19

PREV : Chapter 17.2

Story Masterlist

Thank you for the warm wishes, everyone! I am still a bit ill which is odd because a normal fever usually lasts for 3-4 days for me but now it still persists albeit very vaguely. But I've taken medicines and all so I will be fine. Please feel free to leave comments and feedback about my story, the characters, the "you", and practically anything! I love reading your comments, especially long ones! It motivates me a lot! What do you think about In-ho's flashback and P.O.V? Did I make him OOC? Is the length of that flashback good enough? Then, what about In-ho's care for you after your lovemaking? And that's not the end of it. What's your thoughts on you and him doing lovemaking again... multiple rounds? Did you expect that or was surprised? And what about your confrontation with him? He told you about the fifth game. Do you know where I got that Why Did You Come To My House game details from? And oh, what about 011 and Gyeong-seok going to the underground cave and leaving the place to find help? Do you think it will happen that way in the third season? Finally, what do you think about Jun-hee giving birth at this moment? Considering there have been signs and tells in the series that she was due, it is predicted that she would give birth in this place. I really want to know your reaction on this! Anyway, thank you very much for giving my story a chance. I love reading and re-reading all of your comments!

Leave a comment on the masterlist post to be added to the taglist.

[axetivev]

~ Warning! Batkids are Bruce and Reader's Biochild!

—Papa!Reader and his Bio!kids who would be the one who would and picked up Damian who got detention/suspended because Bruce was too busy.

"So you're telling me, you suspend my son, Damian Wayne because he protected his friend..?"

"W–well. Mr. Wayne... in this school, we don't—"

"Oh so you don't allow nor teach violence but allow harassment? Racism? You know what. Damian, call Bruce. You're changing schools."

—Papa!Reader and his Bio!kids who would force Tim to go to bed. No is not an option. And would never be. Then, Papa!Reader would lecture Tim about sleeping.

—Papa!Reader and his Bio!kids who would read them bedtime stories. And they'll have to agree with one, which led to fights (unfortunately).

"Pa! Can we get a bedtime story?"

"Of course, what do you guys want?"

"Oh! Oh! How about a story about..."

"Tim, you've requested yesterday!"

"Ca–Cass! At my defense—"

—Papa!Reader and his Bio!kids, where papa!reader hugged and gave Dick lunch money who was becoming Robin for the first time. In the end, this became a routine as the Robin legacy continued.

"My love, Dick can do it... Y–you don't have to—"

Papa!Reader who gave Dick his money. "Shut it Bruce! My poor baby can't fight crime empty handed! Are you really gonna buy him something when he's hungry!?"

Year later...

"..."

"M/N—"

"Here, Damian. Here, 100 bucks! Spend it for something useful, m'kay?"

—Papa!Reader and his Bio!kids, when Jason died, he drowns into depression. Struggle—unable to move on. He felt himself being a failure of a dad. To a level to skip meals.

—Papa!Reader and his Bio!kids, after Jason was back alive. He was crying. Hugging Jason as tight as he could to his 6'0 son. He can't, he can't lose another child.

"Forgive me for everything, Jason."

"Pa... I'm here. Really, I'm fine now... I'll be extra careful next time."

"Please be... I don't want to lose you and others again..."

—Papa!Reader and his Bio!kids, who would secretly bring the kids out if Bruce grounded them. But when he was the one who grounds them. No one. No one can save them.

—Papa!Reader and his Bio!kids, who have boys and girls time. For boys, he'd basically spend his time with the boys (basically, Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, Duke) and the girls (Stephanie, Cass).

—Papa!Reader and his Bio!kids, who would work in Arkham Asylum while his kids were looking for him from afar to make sure he was safe. The kids would usually switch but of course they'll fight about it.

"Hey! It's my time to look over pa!"

"Cut it Richard. You've done that last week."

"C'mon! Why don't you guys let Duke and Damian!?"

"FUCK YOU CASSANDRA!"

"OH FUCK YOU!"

Meanwhile Papa!Reader who watched from afar while drinking his tea.

"Kids these days..."

—Papa!Reader and his Bio!kids, when his birthday rolls around, the kids would give him something. It could be a father—son/daughter time, or them spending their money to buy him something—anything. They'll basically spoil you, because you deserve it!

—Papa!Reader and his Bio!kids, who would be his literal bodyguard. Even after Papa!Reader told them he's alright. What can I say? Your kids are too loving. Even too clingy sometimes.

—Papa!Reader and his Bio!kids, where the kids would argue to Bruce about who should have "Papa time" first. Being neither Dick or Damian who leads and Tim gathers information and key details others would light the fire even more. While Papa!Reader tried to calm the kids while Alfred just smirked to himself.

"Well, father. At our defense. Papa spends more time with you. He would prepare you for work; tidying your tie as you go to work, as Batman. Papa helped you with gathering some information with Barbs."

"If not. You two would cuddle on the couch from day and night!"

"Therefore?"

"Therefore, we deserve our own papa time!!!"

—Papa!Reader and his Bio!kids, where if there's a parent brave enough to say something horrible to his kids, Papa!Reader won't hesitate to break them mentality. This also applies if some soul dares to speak to you horribly. The kids would casually show no mercy.

—Papa!Reader and his Bio!kids, when Bruce looked at every single child of his. He would look at Papa!Reader, eyes staring at your very soul as he towered you.

"I want more kids."

"Bruce, we literally have 7 kids, multiple dogs, a cat, a cow, and many others. We have—"

"That's not a question."

[everwhovian]

There is something so tragic about the sibling bond In-ho and Jun-ho have

Ever since I got obsessed with Squid Game, their relationship stood out to me, and I'm a sucker for hurt/comfort and family and just imagining In-ho meeting his baby brother for the first time, giving him A KIDNEY and then he has to shoot Jun-ho and it's so tragic!

Anyways. I wrote something. Instead of studying for my exams... enjoy!

(a small glimpse into In-ho and Jun-ho's relationship as Jun-ho grows up)

masterlist | next part

what remains. | Hwang brothers

The room was dark. In-ho stood frozen in the doorway, fingers tightening around the strap of his bag. He reached out, fingers hovering over the switch, but he didn’t flick it on. The only light spilling into the room came from the hallway. In-ho waited. His eyes adjusted to the dim glow flickering through the curtains, casting soft shadows over the crib in the corner. It was smaller than he expected.

In-ho swallowed hard. He’d known about the baby for weeks now, but knowing and seeing weren’t the same. This wasn’t just an idea anymore, some distant concept of a sibling. No, this was real.

He hesitated, still standing perfectly still in the doorway. In-ho could recall the voice of his mother, the disgusting tone when she told him about his father and his now stepmother. Growing up, In-ho had always known that his parents had issues, but seeing the living breathing consequence of those issues… the reason why his parents finalized their divorce…

He shook his head. He banished the voice of his mother, biting his own underlip to keep the traitorous words inside his mind, he didn’t want to repeat those words. The baby was not at fault for his parents’ issues. It was wrong for his mother to blame an innocent child.

He let the trap of his bag slip from his shoulder, slowly placing the bag down on the floor, before he dared taking a step into the room. It was so quiet. He took step after step, hesitantly, his footsteps barely making a sound against the floor. He stopped mere inches away from the crib, his torso bending forward until his arms rested on the wooden railing of the crib. He peered inside.

The baby stirred, his tiny hands curling into fists, his chest rising and falling with quiet, even breaths. In-ho stifled a gasp, taking a deep breath through his nose. He reminded himself that he had known about the baby – this half-brother – but standing here now, watching the rise and fall of a life so new, so fragile, made it real in a way he hasn’t prepared for. This was real. His half-brother was real.

And for the first time in his sixteen years, In-ho wasn’t sure what to do next.

He couldn’t remember what he had expected to feel. Maybe nothing. Maybe resentment, fuelled by his mother’s venomous comments. But instead, there was just… silence. A strange, hollow kind of stillness.

The baby. His half-brother. His father’s child. A stranger, and yet, blood. Something unfamiliar tightened in his chest.

He didn’t know how to be a brother, he’d never thought he’d have to be one. While he focused on the baby’s tiny chest, counting the quiet, even breaths, he wondered if that even mattered.

In-ho glanced at the small dresser next to the crib, recognizing the stuffed toy sitting on it. A tiny smile tugged on the corner of his mouth. It was his stuffed toy. The same well-loved duck In-ho had carried around everywhere when he was a toddler. In-ho had sifted through his desk months ago, when his father first acknowledged the existence of the baby, and had given the duck to his stepmother in lieu of a proper present. Now, the duck sat next to the crib, watching over the baby, as if a part of In-ho had been there all along.

His eyes drifted from the duck to a framed photo and next to it, a neatly embroidered blanket draped over the edge. The stitching was slightly uneven, like someone had done it by hand, but the name was clear enough: Jun-ho.

In-ho swallowed, unsure what he was even doing here, what he was supposed to feel. His hand hovered hesitantly over the crib before, without thinking, he reached down.

Jun-ho was so small, impossibly small. His face soft and peaceful in sleep. In-ho’s fingertips brushed against the warm, delicate skin, and then – tiny fingers curled around his own.

In-ho froze.

Jun-ho’s tiny fingers were warm and oh so small, but still holding on with surprising strength. He didn’t even know who In-ho was. He didn’t know what a brother was, didn’t understand the weight of the world, or the choices that had led to this moment. But none of that mattered. He held on anyway. Without question. Without hesitation.

In-ho swallowed hard, his throat tight. It was a strange thing to be trusted so easily. No one had ever handed him trust before. He had always had to earn it, to fight for it. But here was this tiny, helpless baby, offering it without a second thought. It was terrifying. And it was something else too – something he couldn’t quite name, something that made his chest feel heavy and hollow at the same time.

Jun-ho trusted him. Expected him to be there. And for the first time, In-ho realized just how much that meant. Because if this baby trusted him… maybe, just maybe, he couldn’t let him down.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ 〇△□ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

At first, it was awkward. In-ho didn’t know what to do with the warmth in Jun-ho’s mother’s voice when she spoke to him, with the way she smiled at him like he belonged, like she wanted him there. It wasn’t something he was used to.

His own mother had never been soft. She had been distant, cold in ways that left a quiet, aching gap in his childhood – one that had long since hardened over. He had learned young that comfort was something other people had, that tenderness was a luxury he was never meant to expect.

But Jun-ho’s mother? She was different.

She cared. Really cared.

She never treated him like an outsider, never hesitated to make space for him. She asked if he had eaten, if he was sleeping enough, if he needed anything. She left out an extra plate at dinner without asking if he would stay – because she already knew he would. She called him son in passing, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And it scared the hell out of him.

Because it was easier to be distant. It was easier to stand just outside the warmth of their family, to tell himself he was only here for… he didn’t even know why he kept coming back to them. He told himself that it was because of Jun-ho, not because some part of him wanted to come back.

But then there were nights when he was dead on his feet, exhausted from school, from work, from everything, and his stepmother would press a warm mug of tea into his hands and tell him, “You’re doing a good job, In-ho.”

And something in him cracked.

Because no one had ever said that to him before. No one had ever looked at him like he deserved to hear it.

He didn’t know how to be her son. He wasn’t sure if he ever could be.

But she was still there. Quietly. Patiently. Loving him in all the ways he had never been loved before.

And maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as alone as he had always thought.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ 〇△□ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

The first time Jun-ho wobbled on unsteady legs, his tiny hands reaching out for something, someone, to hold onto, it wasn’t their father who caught him. It was In-ho.

It had always been In-ho.

He hadn’t planned for it to happen. It wasn’t like he’d woken up one day and decided to be the one to catch Jun-ho when he fell, to be the hands that steadied him, the voice that soothed him, the constant presence in his world.

Their father had always been good at disappearing, of slipping back into old patterns like a man following a well-worn path. His promises were always soft, always fleeting. I’ll do better this time. I’ll be around more. I won’t let you down. But he slipped through the cracks and made himself absent in a way that felt intentional, like an old habit he never quite shook. Falling back into old habits was easy after all. Stepping up? That had never been who their father was.

So, when Jun-ho took his first steps, it was In-ho who knelt in front of him, arms outstretched, waiting. It was In-ho who cheered when tiny feet stumbled forward, and who caught Jun-ho before he could hit the ground. It was his name that Jun-ho spoke first. The syllables clumsy but clear, unmistakable.

Not ‘Appa.’

Resentment burned in In-ho’s chest, sharp and steady. Because every time their father returned like nothing had changed. But everything had changed.

It was In-ho who caught Jun-ho when he stumbled, who soothed his cries, who stayed. And yet, Jun-ho still looked at their father with hopeful eyes, too young to understand that he would always leave in the end. But In-ho knew. He had learned that lesson long ago. And no matter how much he resented the man who should have been here, he swore that he would never be like him.

It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.

But Jun-ho didn’t know that. He didn’t know what he was supposed to have, what he was supposed to be missing. All he knew was that when he lifted his arms, In-ho picked him up. When he cried, In-ho answered. When he reached for someone to hold onto, someone to trust… it was always In-ho.

And with every moment, every milestone, the role of ‘older brother’ blurred into something bigger, heavier, something that settled deep in his chest and refused to let go. He wasn’t just a brother anymore. He was something else. Something more. He was the one who made sure Jun-ho never went to bed hungry, the one who stayed up through fevers, who soothed nightmares, who stayed when their father didn’t.

He hadn’t asked for this. But Jun-ho hadn’t asked to be left behind either.

So, In-ho stayed. Because someone had to. Because Jun-ho trusted him. Because the moment he had reached into that crib and felt tiny fingers wrap around his own, there had never really been a choice.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ 〇△□ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

In-ho built his life on his own. He put himself through university, became a detective, and earned everything with his own hands; his own effort. He never once turned to his absent father for help, never relied on his stepmother’s kindness, even when he knew she would have given it freely. Not because he didn’t appreciate her, but because he still didn’t know how to. He had never relied on a parent before. He had learned young that no one would catch him if he fell, so he made sure he never stumbled.

And he knew it hurt his stepmother. Knew she wished he would lean on her the way Jun-ho did, that he would let her be his mother, too. But the lingering thoughts never left him: “if he accepted her help, wouldn’t that mean he was taking her for granted?”

Wouldn’t that mean he expected her to stay, when he had spent his whole life learning that people didn’t? So, he kept his distance. He loved her in the only way he knew how: by never being a burden. And maybe that hurt her more than anything else.

When In-ho left for university, Jun-ho was only two years old. Small and wide-eyed, his little voice filling the house with endless questions and more often than not, it was In-ho he called for.

Leaving wasn’t easy. Not because he doubted his choice; he had worked too hard to get into university, had spent too long making sure he would never have to rely on their father for anything, but because of Jun-ho. Because every time he packed his bag to go back to school, Jun-ho would waddle after him, grabbing at his pant leg, his voice high and insistent. “Hyung, no go! Stay!”

And it nearly broke him.

He came home as often as he could, squeezing visits in between classes, taking overnight buses just to be there for a few days. It was exhausting, but the moment he stepped through the door and Jun-ho came racing toward him, arms outstretched, eyes shining as he shouted “Hyung!” – it felt worth it. Jun-ho would climb onto his lap, showing off new words he had learned, babbling about his favorite toys, his favorite songs, everything he had stored up to tell him.

But the visits never felt long enough. Before he knew it, he had to leave again. And each time, Jun-ho got a little bigger.

By the time In-ho became a police officer, Jun-ho was six already, just starting school, but still clinging to him whenever he came home. No matter how long he had been gone, no matter how much time passed between visits, Jun-ho’s face always lit up the moment he saw him, like nothing else mattered.

But the visits weren’t as frequent anymore. Work kept him busy, cases ran late, and sometimes, even when he wanted to, he just couldn’t make it home. And that was how, one afternoon, he found himself running late to pick Jun-ho up from school.

By the time he pulled up in his patrol car, the schoolyard was empty. Except for Jun-ho, sitting alone on the steps.

His little backpack rested beside him, too big for his small frame, his legs swinging idly as he watched the street. But he wasn’t upset. He wasn’t crying. He wasn’t even restless. He was just waiting. Waiting for In-ho.

The guilt hit hard. Harder than it should have. He had tried to get here on time. He had rushed. But life, work, had gotten in the way, like it always did. And just for a moment In-ho compared himself to their father.

When he stepped out of the car, Jun-ho’s head lifted immediately, his face breaking into a bright, certain smile.

“Hyung!”

He jumped to his feet, grabbing his bag and running toward him without hesitation. No frustration. No disappointment. Just the absolute trust that, late or not, In-ho would always come.

In-ho crouched as Jun-ho threw his arms around his neck, squeezing tightly, as if he hadn’t just been sitting there alone.

“Sorry I’m late,” he muttered, ruffling Jun-ho’s hair.

“S’okay!” Jun-ho chirped, pulling back just enough to grin at him. “I knew you’d come!”

And that was what got to him. The unwavering belief in his voice, the simple, unshaken certainty that no matter how long he had waited, there had never been a doubt in his mind: his hyung would always come.

Swallowing the guilt, he nodded toward the police car. “Wanna ride in the front?”

Jun-ho’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Really.”

Jun-ho scrambled in, his excitement bubbling over as he settled into the seat, his feet barely reaching the floor.

As In-ho buckled him in, he made a silent promise to himself. No matter how much time passed, no matter how late he was – he would always come back. Because Jun-ho never doubted him. And he never would.

masterlist | next part

(edit [10/02/25]: I posted these scenes separately again cause I made a masterlist, and it's easier to organize the scenes chronologically like that. all next parts will be linked through the masterlist!!!)

So.... yeah. I apologize for any weird sentences. English isn't my first language, and while I do study English, actually writing non university related stuff in English is something I haven't done in years! Can you believe it?

I definitely have more little scenes and scenarios planned with In-ho and Jun-ho, like In-ho meeting his wife and Jun-ho wanting to become a police officer like In-ho. Just some cute family bonding stuff! And some hurt/comfort cause In-ho does give Jun-ho a kidney....

I think I will cross post this to Ao3 too! When I'm certain that I have every little scene I want for a first chapter: maybe up until In-ho's wife gets sick? And then the second chapter might be about In-ho's games and how he became the frontman.

[ambigrueity]

Rambling but

Trey is a very subtle character. Unlike most twst memebers a lot about him isn't explicitly said. He spends a lot of his time crafting a perfect image, so an outside perspective of him is difficult to present without there being certain biases in the way characters view him (Leona expecting there to be something more to his dream before realizing no it's just him wanting to bake to his hearts content or Rook believing that he's making tarts filled with love for Riddle but he himself is doing it out of necessity.) He keeps a lot of his emotions close to his chest too so it's not like he's going to talk about it himself. He doesn't soliloquize often. If you noticed in the maze section of Riddle's dream, he barely verbalized his own thoughts about the change in leadership, it was all "cater" driving the conversation. He's introverted and worries a lot about his perception to the point that he stifles what he wants to say in favor of smiling and tentatively manipulating the situation to remain comfortable. (Which Cater points out in Book 1 but THAT got mistranslated from Cater scolding Trey to Cater scolding himself about being more honest with his opinions which doesn't help the lack of understanding that people seem to have) Because he puts so much emphasis on his normalcy, fans seem to have a high expectation for his weirdness when it's kinda been in front of us the whole time. We're not the characters. He's not trying to fool us-- we have an omniscient view into everything he does. So it's obvious looking at it that he has a habit of being smothering/overdoing things. Vil points it out in maschef that he never really gives others space to grow because he's always there to cover every mistake. He hates mustard but believes he can get over it by forcing mustard into every food he can think of until someone had to stop him from putting it in cake and eating it. He's super fixated on dental hygiene and he gets tempted to bake so many different things, purchasing recipe books for fun, before reminding himself to reel it in because making too many would make it so that there was nowhere for those sweets to go. I feel like a lot of people missed a key point of his dream and that is I think Trey feels helpless a lot. A lot of the situations he ends up in are not in his control. So that's why he dotes and placates so that he can try to keep some semblance of it. An illusion of it. So his dream is a place where he doesn't have to do all these things to keep control. He just has it. He has his freedom to do as he likes without it costing him anything. A friend, his parent's dignity, the dorm. He doesn't need to be afraid of any of it. So he allows himself a faulty degree of overindulgence because peace and normalcy doesn't hinge on him. In the real world, every cake he prepared was for peace. But this time the cakes were just cakes. They weren't secretly disguised peace treaties or white flags. In the real world each baked good is within a rule or serves a purpose. In his dream, they can just exist. Just like him. Well anyway sorry brain went all over the place.

[silky-nereid]

Late night yandere ideas

tw : mentions of stalking, implied drowning, a/b/o dynamics, home wrecking & slight prey and predator dynamics, slight corruption, mentions of communes and cult-ish behavior.

a/n: I tried to lean into more yandere character traits and let me know if you want me to expand on these yanderes!! :D

Yandere! Mermaid who falls in love with you since she found you near death from a shipwreck. She does stalk you from the sea when you ever go back to sea after your unfortunate rescue from her but she doesn’t truly understand why you do flail in water when she pulls you deep into the water—she just wants to show you to your new home.

Yandere! Omega who ruins your previous relationship with your partner because they claimed you before your partner ever could. They flip the original meanings of prey and predator yet they can’t help it—you just looked so better with them despite how miserable you feel because you are fated to be together but you’ll always be the prized prey that they have despite nobody believing you if you ever tell outsiders since they’re just an omega, right?

Yandere! Video game who somehow makes the game easier despite it occasionally being on the hardest difficulty but they will make the game harder if you are ever wearing a headset and complain about it being too easy—who knew that Valeria of the flesh eaters had a fourth phase to her battle. Yet, you look everywhere to see if people are having the same issues but they aren’t—your copy of Atropa’s Tears must be broken but whenever you try to show anyone, the game runs perfectly.

Yandere! Detective who’s life is always meticulous but she gets assigned case of the Alleyway butcher. She becomes obsessive and will not eat till she solved one piece of your twisted puzzle—she does lose pieces of herself when she finds you. But for some reason, she doesn’t know why she can’t arrest you yet she enjoys this tug of war that you both play.

Yandere! Wasteland wanderer who finds robot you in the wasteland’s dump; it was a good day for him. Yet, he does repair you when scrap metals due to you only being a broken face plate and only a trunk of an automaton. He always has you covered because he knows if Spurs men manage to even get a glimpse of you. You would get torn apart and your mechanical parts would be used for their machine of Death since your battery core is what they need. He can’t have that—he can’t lose another child due to Spurs men.

Yandere! Acolyte who was with you from the very beginning of you starting the commune and he is the right hand to you. He worships your presence since your words are law and he takes it seriously— too seriously at a point. He always prepares the rituals even if they result in bloodshed and he loves helping you dress in your ritual clothes. He will get his hands dirty for you and he doesn’t understand why you’re abandoning the commune. He can’t let you leave, he breaks down severely. His hands are bloodied and he only loves you which he’s drag you back to the commune no matter what.

Yandere! Older sibling who escaped the household that you both were in and they flourished in the environment that they had cultivated for themselves. They come home to see you— you were so similar to the parents that they despised but they weren’t gone for that long, right? They only came back to this rancid place that you called home to do somewhat of a wellness check on you. They always seem to get into arguments with you which was so strange to them because they always got along with you in the shared youth. Yet, they saw it—the way that their parents turned you against them and only if they weren’t in the picture, you could finally become the person that you were meant to be.

[lumiy-a]

apparently this post generated some backlash on my husband, as i received more than one anon ask accusing him of scolding me as if he was a parent, and that he doesn’t have the right to draw the line at the sheep, and i should get the sheep anyway… (a sheep i don’t want, for the record)

guys. i appreciate your concern but… notwithstanding that he was clearly joking when using this wording, my husband is the NO. 1 supporter of each and every single crazy hobby i get into. he was supporting me when i was making cosmetics and transforming our apartment in a lab where he had to be careful before picking up a glass and thinking it was water. he supported my “i prepare all food from scratch” journey and ate stuff that should never be eaten by a sane human. he supports my fanfiction writing even if i forbid him (yes! i draw lines too!) to read it. he supports my tatting and defends my hobby in front of people who turn up their nose when they learn i do such a grandma thing*. he cheers on my drawings even if he doesn’t know who the people in the drawing are. he supports my spending a fortune (of our money) to finish collecting the w.i.t.c.h. comic. he always moved his chair next to my piano when i was still playing so he could hear what he could through the headphones (we live in an apartment so i rarely played open).

*yes yes before i get an anon ask on this: i can defend myself and my hobby on my own too, but trust me it’s nice when your life partners also stands up for what you do

i wouldn’t marry someone who doesn’t support my stuff and who doesn’t treat me like a grownup but i think i also have to say that he DOES have a right to voice his opinion on whether he agrees or not on acquiring a SHEEP in an apartment that we SHARE. wouldn’t it be the same for me? imagine he comes back home one day with a sheep and at my questioning look he says, “i’m a grownup, you don’t get to decide for me if we can have a sheep”

i think here the “we” is the key. one thing is not letting husbands decide for you and being bosses instead of partners, but this doesn’t mean that i get to become the boss. we share spaces and a life so we should agree on things that concern both of us, like… well, having a sheep running around in our apartment in a big city.

husband’s reaction to my “i was watching some videos on how they spin wool with the drop spindle” was “okay, i’m fine if you want to do it, but i draw the line at when you want to have the sheep” so i suppose we’re good to go for now

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

What would the stardew valley villagers think if one day their good pal farmer just casually dropped the fact they used to be into something crazy, like an illegal fighting ring. "Yeah I hiked out to an abandoned building at the outskirts of the city every Friday to fistfight people in the basement. It paid 10 times better then my shitty office job ever did but only when I won. There were some real actual martial artists in that ring too, even broke 2 of my fingers punching 1 guy, I miss hanging out with those dudes. Fighting actually relived a lot of stress for me, I didn't quit because I got hurt or anything I quit because my neighbors/coworkers wouldnt stop fussing over me when they saw me after I got hurt in a match. There's no acceptable way to explain how you get a black eye at the end of every week that doesn't raise alarm or get the cops called on someone. I'd probably get back into it if it didn't take a bus ride into the city to get to. I'm not even sure if the 1 i used to go to us still there, i might be able to find one of the other fighters and ask but its not guaranteed any if the other fighters i used to hang out with are all even still in that city"

"Wtf," said all the residents at the same time.

That's it, that's a headcanon. Thanks for the ask! ❤️

Alright, I'm kidding, but the way you wrote that ask, dear anon, is pretty funny heh 😁 Thanks a lot for the question, by the way! Enjoy 💖

_________________________________________

SDV villagers react to Farmer who told them about their illegal fights in past:

"Sir/Ma'am/Mx., this is Wendy's Pierre's." With all due respect to Pierre's best customer, why is Farmer telling him all this behind the counter of his store? Here's your seeds, fertilizer and saplings and goodbye. He has to work and he doesn't care about their- Wait, hold on, don't you dare tell that to his daughter-!

But Pierre was too late with his warnings: Abigail was standing nearby and had heard everything Farmer had said. The amethyst lover looked at them adoringly, because holy shit, underground fights in the city.... Farmer is so cool and badass in her eyes! Naturally, she wants to hear their stories of illegal fights (only when her parents aren't around).

Caroline called out to Abigail "on some very urgent business, quick!", bestowing Farmer with a shocked and concerned look. Seriously, she looked at them as if Farmer had just confessed to murder or something. Now she didn't really want her daughter hanging out with them, afraid that Abby would pick up the crazy idea to join the fights too.

Oh... Yeah, Elliott's friend has, uh... quite an interesting past. And what surprises the writer most is not even Farmer's underground battles themselves, but the fact of how they drastically change the trajectory of their lives and yet adapt to the environment with ease. From an office worker to a no-holds-barred fighter, and now a farmer. Well, if they want to write a biography, this would definitely be fun to read.

"Uh, what?" What did Farmer just tell Leah? The artist had listened to her dear friend's story about growing a giant pumpkin while she was finishing a new painting, and now how they were discussing Farmer's criminal past. Uh, cool and all, but maybe they'd better change the subject? Can they go back to telling stories about pumpkins?

"Ha ha ha how interesting, thanks for sharing!" Although Penny stood like a statue, motionless, her body slowly moved away from Farmer, who had just answered the teacher's question about their hobby in general. This was something she was definitely not prepared for, and, with a nervous smile, ended the conversation. How Penny moved without moving even a finger of her hand was a mystery.

*Shane put his can of beer away* Ok first of all, what the fuck. Second of all, he didn't really give a damn that Farmer was running around in dodgy places and fighting over money in Zuzu City, to be completely honest. Especially since the chicken man himself had done some crazy shit in his youth, not his place to judge or something. And last of all, what the fuck.

*Sob* "A- Aunt Marnie... Uncle Shane..." "Mommy! Sam!" "Uncle Linus!" Oops.... Apparently telling Jas, Vincent and Leo about 'the hobby' with detailed descriptions of violence wasn't Farmer's smartest idea (seriously, what did they even expect?). The kids have tears on their cheeks and their parents/guardians give Farmer a not-so-kind look. Now the delinquent farmer need lots of ice cream and mangoes so the local kids will forgive them.

Oh, so that's why Emily senses such an unusual aura around Farmer. Hmm? Ah, no, she just thinking out loud. Emily gets a little upset by such detailed descriptions of fights (she can't stand violence), so she politely asks Farmer to omit the details of their fights. An unconventional choice to 'relax', but it's not her place to judge people. And Farmer found some good friends there, so that's great!

Huh, now Marlon and Gil know where their new Guild member got their fighting skills from the very beginning of their arrival in the Valley. Fighting ring, eh? Marlon had dabbled a bit in all sorts of battles and fights for money too when he was Farmer's age - pretty good income, booze and friends. Though then he quickly gave it up as he found his purpose as adventurer and devoted himself to defending the Stardew Valley from monsters. Gil was the same, but he had been practicing his "hobby" a little longer than his one-eyed colleague.

Oh, goodness! So much violence and blood in Farmer's stories. Pity poor Evelyn's old heart, she can't listen to such cruel battles. So Farmer better stop talking and silently accept cookies and tea from sweet grandma and tell about their work on the farm.

Hmph! 'Underground battles', what a nonsense! Today's youth go to some abandoned buildings, fight, break laws and feel cool. If George wasn't confined to that damn wheelchair, he'd take Farmer down in one moment. And anyway, Farmer should stop this talking about their fighting, because George's wife doesn't like to talk about violence at the kitchen table.

"Tough fella, huh?" Alex regarded his friend Farmer for about half a minute. Really quite a formidable opponent if the athlete were to ask Farmer to fistfight in a friendly sparring. Though he's most interested in Farmer's diet and routine, since even before their farming career started, they look very healthy ("just don't suggest anything illegal, got it?").

*Sigh* The Wizard already knows. All. That. Farmer, how many times does he have to tell you he knows about your past? He's a wizard. A wizard. Someone who can see the future of others in a crystal ball and such. So unless Farmer brought him purple mushrooms or void essence, please don't distract Rasmodius with their stories, he has potions to brew.

"No freaking way, dude!" "Yes freaking way, Sam." The guitarist nearly fell off his chair when Farmer told him how they used to fight all sorts of big guys in the city in addition to their clerk jobs. Mega cool and hardcore! Sam will of course listen to more stories from his friend, but one moment, just let him close his room door so his mom or dad doesn't accidentally hear them.

Though Jodi doesn't particularly need to hear it from her oldest son's room - Caroline has already shared gossip and warnings with her during their weekly aerobics class. Which makes Jodi wary now, though she won't say her worries out loud. She won't treat Farmer any worse, they're good neighbors after all, she's just... worried about her sons, alright?

"Farmer, a word." Huh, they wonder what Kent needed from the Farmer. "I'll be honest: I don't know what your reasons were for your illegal fighting, it's none of my business and it's not for me to judge you. But don't suggest anything like that to Sam and Vincent, got it?" The veteran doesn't really care about Farmer's past, he just worried about his sons. Well, his kids are smart and won't get involved in anything illegal but just in case. Nothing personal.

That explains to Harvey how there are so many scars on Farmer's body. Quite a large number for someone as young as them. So how long had they been participating in these questionable activities? A month? Over a year? Some of the scars have long since healed. Wait, you know what - no need to tell him this further, because the first stories with such violence already made the doctor feel sick to his stomach.

"Uhhh..." Maru is shocked. "Goddess, did you really get paid so poorly in Joja that you had to do this as well to earn your bread?" Pretty shocking detail about Farmer, but hey, at least they made friends with many people back then, that's a good thing, yeah? Honestly, the inventor doesn't know how she should respond to that or what to say.

Ok, too much information for Gus... People are different, it's just that the owner of the Saloon doesn't understand how Farmer can talk about it so calmly and openly. He'd still understand if the Farmer told him about their illegal fights after a glass or two of strong wine/el, but they told him sober. They would, this, be careful who they told it to.

Sebastian took the cigarette out of his mouth and uttered a delighted 'wow...'. So, a job at a soul-sucking corporation during the day and bare-knuckle fighting at night? Damn, crazy lifestyle. But why didn't Farmer quit their job at Joja then? And why did they quit everything and become farmer now? Sebby's in no hurry to go home and if Farmer has some free time, maybe they'll tell the local emo about their fights in Zuzu City.

Haley sighs tiredly. Yoba, why does she have to be surrounded by weirdos? The guy who always wears black, her own sister's so weird with her crystals and aura nonsense. And now this new farmer is telling her wild facts about their life... It's so unfair!

"Aye," was the only thing Willy replied before taking up his smoking pipe again with his teeth. Not that thel old fisherman didn't care what Farmer was saying, but first of all, it would be better for both of them to sit in silence so as not to scare the fish away right now, and secondly, Farmer should not tell every person they met about their illegal hobbies. Other people might misunderstand them, or even use this information to blackmail them.

"What the fuck are you yapping about, kid?" Pam only partially heard their story, as the alcohol in her body already makes her feel very sleepy. Then there's this weird shit from Farmer. But also... if Farmer would now set another mug of beer for her, them she would listen to them, their every crazy story. With her eyes closed.

As soon as Demetrius hears exactly what Farmer told Maru, his wife Robin has to keep her hyper-parenting husband from taking drastic actions he might regret. So while he's sulking in the lab and glaring at his daughter and her friend, Robin gently explains to Farmer that this kind of talk about their illegal hobby isn't to everyone's liking, and if you can, don't mention it in front of her hubby and kids, okay? Especially such a detailed description of broken limbs (the picture comes to mind is unpleasant, to say at least). No offense.

What?! Illegal fights?! And Farmer's telling Lewis this as a reason to be proud?! They should be ashamed of themself! Doing... stuff like that. And what would their grandfather say if he knew their grandchild had such a secret? "I don't know, Lewis, what grandpa would say to your secret-" !!! Get out of his house! Hmph, the youth these days...

With each sentence, with each detail in Farmer's story, Marnie's face grew paler and paler. Her imagination was building such shock content over Farmer's story that the rancher asked them to stop. They had a hobby that helped them relax and earn money for living before moving here, that's a good thing. She doesn't need any more details.

"... Look, are you going to buy seeds or not?" Time is money, and Morris doesn't like to waste time listening to all these customer stories. Nor should Farmer tell the Joja general manager at all that they've been involved in some not-so-legal flights. Because Morris was advertising coupons in someone else's store without remorse, so what's to stop him from using that information to blackmail Farmer for the benefit of the mega corporation he's working.

".......Uh-huh." On the one hand, Clint had been stuck with the forge all day, and wouldn't mind chatting with Farmer, a friend and regular customer. On the other hand... What? Okay, he didn't care what they'd done in the past. One topic did interest him though. "You were already popular back then and you must have had a crowd of fans, right? Tell me, do 'wrestlers' like that attract women?" He wasn't desperate enough to get into illegal fighting too, but it was still interesting to hear what they'd say about it.

[aceofwhump]

hope youre doing well!

just wanted to let you know that i started binging ted lasso the other day after going through your blog for recs on something to watch (as i do, often) and i ADORE it, so thank you!!

i just watched the episode where jamie’s dad is abusive to him in front of the entire team and i have to say that it’s some of the best emotional whump ive seen in a WHILE omg. rewatched that scene so many times,,,,

while im here ill ask if you happen to have any fav jamie fic recs? no pressure though if you cant think of any specific ones, ill likely go through the entire tag on ao3 lol

Hi! I am doing all right thanks! Hope you're well too!

Omg yay!! Ted Lasso is so good!!! I'm so glad you're watching it! Ugh that episode is one of my favorites! The emotions just kill me. I love Jamie Tartt so much. I too watched that scene on a loop. So good.

Oooooh yes I have recs for you my friend! Many! Go forth and enjoy!

the early arrival of a fragile spring by mballyntyne Summary: Coach, I’m me, he had said once, why would I want to be anything else? OR Jamie gets concussed, his dad is a terrible person, there are far too many references to sad disney films, and the sun finally begins to shine.

Emergency Contact by relevanceisoverrated Summary: When Jamie ends up in the hospital after an accident, the hospital has to call his emergency contact, Ted.

The calm before the literal and figurative storm by Multifandom_damnation Summary: They lose to Man City, but they might lose a lot more than a game that day

Barn Raising by altschmerzes  Summary: After the locker room disaster in Manchester, Roy drives Jamie home. The chaos they find when they arrive at the house swiftly proves it is not a safe place to spend the night, forcing a change of plans and a reroute to Roy’s own home. The following day Jamie experiences, in this order: The most bewildering breakfast of his life, a penalty kick clinic with a seven-year-old, and an overwhelming display from his teammates that brings him face to face with the fact that not only has he been accepted back in Richmond it’s also possible he might be, in a way he can’t remotely process or understand, loved here.

Scaffolding by altschmerzes Summary: Jamie collapses at training the day before an away game far from home, running a fever, and somehow this ends up being Roy's problem. And Ted's, when he persuades Roy to take it in shifts. It's both of their problem, though it's a problem for them in different ways. Ted struggles to keep the feeling of being helpless from sending him too deep into his own head to stay where he's needed. His experience as a parent both helps and doesn't. As for Roy, hating Jamie was a lot simpler than caring about him is. Taking care of him? Roy doesn't have a clue where he got the idea he was competent enough to do that. Especially when it feels like all he does is mess it up.

The Same Story by altschmerzes Summary: “So,” Trent starts, keeping his voice mild and professional. “We have all, by now, seen the footage from the unfortunate run-in you had with your father, the night of the twenty-fifth of April in the car park at Coventry City FC’s pitch.” It would've been traumatic enough for Jamie's father to ruin Richmond's most recent victory in front of the whole team, but when the confrontation turns violent in front of a gaggle of reporters, the ensuing social media firestorm is even worse. Over the next two and a half weeks, Jamie will have to navigate the charges against his father, walk a gauntlet of publicity that he never asked for, and prepare to give the interview of a lifetime. Luckily, Richmond has always been there to catch him on the other side.

Better Angels by altschmerzes Summary: The second time that Jamie shows up, smirking and announcing that he can't participate in training because he's hurt is so much worse than the first time. He's changed a lot, grown up a lot, and no one knows why he's acting like this again when he's put so much time and effort into not being that person anymore. It feels like history is repeating itself, except… something isn't adding up. Sam is the one who puts it together, who sees the proof that Jamie very much is hurt, and has led everyone to believe that he isn't by telling them that he is in a way that sounded like an obvious lie. It makes his head spin, and he doesn't know what to do. Thankfully, his team captain and his coaches are there to figure it out. (Hypothetical season 3 timeline. Completely gen. Jamie is hurt in an accident. He doesn't handle it well.)

Something to be said by macaronicism Summary: First day back in training after what happened at Wembley is awkward, but everyone tries their best.

for speaking through walls by LadyCharity  Summary: When an incident in the match against West Ham leads to a threat to Jamie's well-being, Ted comes face-to-face with what he dreads the most. In which Jamie haunts Ted just as much as the dead.

don't let it in with no intention to keep it by jamietxrtt Summary: "Glass shatters to Jamie’s left, missing the front door by centimeters. He ignores it and ducks out into the cloudy London night, the cold night air raising the hairs on his bare arms. No time to hesitate and grab a jacket now, though, not with the suffocating smell of beer smoking him out of his own house."

it's such a long road when you go it alone by themightyduck Summary: Jamie goes down hard during the last match of the season and struggles to determine his worth outside football. Ted would like to stop seeing his boys get hurt on the field. Roy seeks to become emotionally well-adjusted and possibly even Jamie's close friend.

On Pure Instinct by Dandelion_Orange_Pips Summary:

Jamie was standing rigidly and staring at Ted’s hand in abject horror, unblinking. Then rose his gaze to meet Ted’s, tears now uncontrolled. The world seemed to come to a stop and Ted couldn't breathe. One wrong move.

Ted raised his hands, placating.

Then Jamie’s eyes snapped rapidly to his hand and back, becoming even wider. Ted froze.

“Jamie-”

Jamie ran.

Or: Ted tries his best to keep Jamie together after a tough game. He fails, but maybe it's for the best.

The Invalidated Silent Screams Of The Tormented by Cuppa_Char Summary: When a blast from the past unsettles Jamie it leads to a very public meltdown.

Somehow Everything Will Be Okay by Lilac_Lemonade Summary: What happened once the match against Richmond was over and Jamie's dad pulled him aside? Ted walked away after seeing him with his dad in the treatment room and Jamie thought that was it, just one more person on the list of people that had abandoned him. But what if Ted came back? What if Ted was the one to give Jamie the letter after Richmond's match against Man City?

mind games by sweetsorrowss Summary: jamie tartt is tired of being toyed with. he's tired of being manipulated. he's tired of people pretending that they care. when his father pays him a surprise and unwelcome visit, jamie finds solace in the one person he's convinced himself is pretending the most. but ted lasso isn't pretending, and maybe jamie deserves a place to call home after all.

Thick and Thin and Every Line by LivingProof Summary: In the aftermath of the match against Manchester City, Ted, Roy, and Jamie struggle with demons shared and separate. Then Beard’s here, then his dad is gone, just the gunshot crack of the door to herald their departure. He’d wince at the sound, but his muscles have turned to lead. And Jamie’s here, the only person in this room, the spotlight on him casting everyone else in shadow. He knows they’re out there somewhere, audience to a Greek fucking tragedy, and maybe when this is over they’ll realize they should be applauding.

Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation by jumpfall Summary: What Ted remembers later is Beard saying, "Jamie's not putting any weight on it."

To Being Better by vxctorsfvlix Summary: Jamie-centric rewrite of the Ola's Restaurant scene in 3.03, featuring more hurt and also more comfort. Jamie's been struggling with the arrival of Zava, and how it's affecting his relationships with the team. Things come to a head on the opening night of Sam's restaurant.

for what you have tamed by LadyCharity Summary: "Men have forgotten this truth," said the fox. "But you must not forget it. You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed." In which Ted and Jamie are tamed by their fathers, their traumas, and each other.

according to the calculations by telm_393 Summary: After everything, Jamie’s not alone.

an excess of warmth or coldness by bartonbones Summary: When Jamie is seriously injured during a match, Roy and Ted are reminded how much they care about him--as a son, or as a younger brother, or as an exposed nerve. Jamie is reminded what it's like to have people care when his face gets knocked in.

Wings Wouldn't Help You Down by ViolentlyRed Summary: He thought the most awkward thing he'd have to endure was a rigid Roy Kent embrace in the Man City locker room months ago. He was wrong. And he’s getting better at admitting when he’s wrong, so. Turning up on Coach's doorstep at two thirty in the morning was infinitely, infinitely more awkward. Or, Jamie's hurt and not about to say much about it, and Ted's a good coach.

Haunted by WinterAndMissHyde Summary: Isaac and Colin lock Jamie in a storage room at Nelson Road as part of a "harmless" joke. This brings Jamie a lot of bad memories back he'd rather forget and leads him to a panic attack. He also dislocates his shoulder trying to get out. Ted, Sam and Dani are there to comfort him in the aftermath. Set after Jamie comes back to Richmond on season 2.

the early arrival of a fragile spring by mballyntyne Summary: Coach, I’m me, he had said once, why would I want to be anything else? OR Jamie gets concussed, his dad is a terrible person, there are far too many references to sad disney films, and the sun finally begins to shine.

[jubileesstuff]

Know that Nico has new paperwork (thanks Barbara); he goes to school. Bruce realizes that there is a problem, well, multiple problems. The last time Nico actually went to a school, or something that's like a school, was in the 30s/40s. School now is different. Nico's ADHD and dyslexia that come with being a demigod don't help at all. Then there are the other students; Nico knows himself that children can be brutal (he lives together with Damian Wayne; he knows the Aphrodite Kids), but nothing prepared him for this. He has to be 7+ hours in a room with 20 or more kids. They use words that Nico doesn't understand; hell, he just learned what a microwave is and how to use it. His classmates use words like sigma, Ohio, Rizz, slay, or lmao. When he asked where these words are from and what the meaning is, they looked at him weirdly and asked if he doesn't have social media. That is the next thing he doesn't know.

Well, no, he knows about social media but does not have it. Why? Demigods and phones, or generally technology, are not the best mix. Tim and Barbara give him a presentation on Internet slang and what everything means. The problem is, they also don't know everything.

Barbara is more generational, lmao, lol, idk, iykyk, and smh. And Tim is too busy running a company and being Red Robin to learn the new slang teenagers have come up with. Nico can't ask Damian; he talks more like Nico's grandparents in Italy than a teenager in modern times. Bruce and Alfred are too old; the same goes for Jason and Dick. Cass probably also doesn't know. He could ask Duke or Steph. But Nico is too afraid to ask Steph. She will teach him stuff he never wants to know.

The last time Nico asked Stephanie something, she explained what fanfiction is. Fanfiction is something nice, but what came after fanfiction is something he wants to forget. She explained in detail what the Omegaverse is. He really, reallllyyy didn't want to know about that.

However, not only is slang a problem, but modern technology is a general problem. When someone asked if they should add Nico to a group chat for this class, he was confused. First he was like, 'Is this an after-school club?'

His classmates are convinced that Bruce Wayne has a strict 'No Technologyrule because Damian isn't that much better. Obviously everyone knows Damian Wayne; they all know that he also has no clue about slang or certain social media things. So the entire school (teachers included) is convinced Bruce Wayne is a strict parent.

One day, during a history lesson, Nico gets into trouble at school. It's the first time ever. The teacher talked about the time before the Second World War. They focused on Italy and America's relationship with Italy at the time. The teacher said something incorrect, and Nico corrected it. It became a full argument because the teacher obviously doesn't know that Nico was alive back then. Even if he was a small child, he still remembers stuff. He gets sent to the principal, where Bruce picks him up.

At dinner he gets asked by Dick, who is visiting, what that was about. After he explained it, the teacher said something incorrect about Italy and history; Dick asked how he knew that.Nico answered, "You know that I was alive back then."

[woozinhos]

can u write nonidol yunho x reader finding out they’re expecting their first child together pls

Notes: made this one small and cute hehe please request more Ateez hehe I’m in my Ateez era fr

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.

You had been feeling off for a few weeks now, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it. You had a few symptoms, like nausea and fatigue, but you didn't think much of it. One day, as you were getting ready for work, you realized that you were late for your period. You had been keeping track for years, and this was the first time that you'd missed it. You took a test, and when the positive result appeared, you were stunned. You couldn't believe that you were pregnant.

You stared at the test for a few moments, trying to process the news. You were pregnant with Yunho's child. You knew that he had always wanted kids, and you were excited to tell him. You thought about how you would surprise him. You decided to make him breakfast in bed and slip the test in with the food. You woke up early the next morning and made your way to the kitchen. You knew that Yunho would be up soon, so you hurried to prepare breakfast.

As you cooked, you carefully tucked the test into a napkin. You placed the food on a tray and brought it to the bedroom. You set the tray down on the bedside table and crawled back into bed next to Yunho. He was still sleeping soundly, his chest rising and falling with each breath. You couldn't contain your excitement. You leaned over and gently shook him awake. "Hey, baby," you whispered. "Wake up. I have a surprise for you." He groaned and opened his eyes, still half-asleep. "What time is it?" he mumbled.

"Early," you replied, trying to keep your voice light and cheerful. "I made you breakfast in bed." He smiled, his eyes still bleary. "You didn't have to do that," he said, sitting up in bed. "But it smells amazing." He leaned over and kissed you on the cheek before noticing the tray on the bedside table.

"What's this?" he asked, reaching for the napkin. You held your breath as he unfolded it, revealing the pregnancy test inside. He stared at the test for a moment, his eyes wide with shock. "Is this...real?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, a huge smile spreading across your face. "It's real," you said. "We're going to have a baby." You were starting to worry. He wasn't saying anything, and he was just staring at the test. "Baby?" you asked, gently touching his arm. "Are you okay?" You could see the tears welling up in his eyes, and you felt a wave of relief wash over you. He was crying because he was happy, not because he was upset.

"We're going to be parents," he said, his voice cracking. "I can't believe it." He reached out and pulled you into a tight embrace. "I'm so happy," he whispered into your ear. "You've made me the happiest man in the world."

You wrapped your arms around him, feeling his body trembling with emotion. You knew that this was a big moment for both of you, and that everything was going to change. He stroked your hair, his fingers tangling in your locks as he kissed you deeply. The kiss was filled with passion and excitement, and you could feel his love for you in every movement. When the kiss ended, he pulled back slightly, still holding you close. "We're going to have a family," he said again, as if he was still in disbelief. "A real family."

[luxerians]

The Last Mask (18.1)

Hwang In-ho/Oh Young-il/Player 001 x Reader

Chapter 18.1 - Humanity [SFW]

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NSFW ver. : Chapter 18.2

[Hwang In-ho’s Flashback…]

It was during the first few minutes of the Seven-Legged Hexathlon when In-ho stood quietly beside player 423. Her brows furrowed slightly, her lips pressed together in concentration. She was focused. Almost too focused on the first two teams playing Tuho. He noticed the way her eyes tracked every throw, every movement as if she was absorbing every detail.

She wasn’t just watching; she was analyzing, preparing, worrying.

He had seen that kind of look before. People who tried to predict every outcome, tried to control what little they could in an unpredictable situation. He knew it well because he was the overseer of these games. He had watched and noticed everything throughout his times as the Front Man. And yet, something about the way she did it made him pause.

“Don’t be nervous. I’m sure you’ll do fine,” he said, stepping closer.

She turned to look at him, startled for a brief moment. He held her gaze and gave her a small, confident smile. “You said you did it often. I’m certain you’ve got skills.”

Her lips parted slightly as if she wanted to respond, but she hesitated. Instead, she lowered her gaze, something shifting in her expression.

“That was years ago. Now…”

Her voice trailed off, her eyes turning distant. Whatever she was thinking about, it wasn’t the game in front of her anymore. It was something else. Something heavier. In-ho recognized that kind of look, too. It was the look of someone recalling a nightmare without meaning to. He knew because he tended to do it too.

He stared at her intently, curiosity creeping in. What was she hiding? He knew loss when he saw it, knew the weight of burdens unspoken.

Out of nowhere, she shook her head, shaking away whatever thoughts that had taken hold of her. “My arms sometimes tremble uncontrollably. What if it messes up my aim?”

That’s when an idea sprang to his mind. An opportunity to lower her guard and manipulate her further. Without hesitation, In-ho responded, “Then I’ll hold your hands.”

It still felt odd, though. Manipulation or not, he wasn’t the kind of man who offered comfort. The Front Man wouldn’t care. The cold, detached persona he had built over years of isolation wouldn’t have said anything at all.

And yet, here he was, trying for someone he had only known for a short time.

Manipulation or not, maybe it was because she reminded him of something – of warmth, of his past self he had buried. Or maybe it was simply because he thought he was in control of everything. Yes, he is doing this to manipulate her, he convinced himself.

After completing the Seven-Legged Hexathlon, the group returned to the dormitory. In-ho, playing his part, apologized for failing the Spinning Top multiple times – even though he had done so intentionally. He was expecting little reaction, maybe even some teasing, but instead, you smiled warmly at him.

“It’s okay,” you said. “Everyone has moments like that, but you didn’t give up, and that’s what mattered.”

For a moment, In-ho just stared at you, caught off guard once again.

Your words always seemed to slip through his defenses, seeping into places he had long sealed off. It was unnerving how easily you could disarm him, how your warmth found cracks in the cold exterior he had spent years perfecting. It felt as if you had known him far longer than just these past few days. As if you saw through him. Not just the man he pretended to be, but the one he had buried beneath layers of control and calculation.

His eyes softened before he could stop them, and he smiled. Was it real? He wasn’t sure. He had been pretending for so long that even he couldn’t always tell.

Then, that moment came.

The smile on your lips turned fake. That’s when you told them. About your parents, about the weight of your family situation, and about the staggering 350 million won debt that had pulled you into this place.

In-ho watched you closely, reading every small detail.

The way you kept faking a smile, the way you tried to make it sound like everything was fine. But he saw the strain beneath it, the exhaustion of someone carrying far too much for far too long.

And something inside him tightened.

He knew that look all too well. The quiet acceptance of an unfair fate. He had worn it himself, once.

For the first time, his reaction wasn’t calculated. He simply watched you, feeling something unfamiliar creep into his chest. A quiet ache. A reluctant understanding.

And perhaps, just for a moment, he hated that he cared.

Not only that, but he felt an anger so deep it surprised him. The thought of anyone threatening you, forcing you into this situation, made his blood simmer with quiet rage. The image of you struggling under the weight of someone else’s cruelty refused to leave his mind.

These men had taken advantage of you, had pushed you into a corner with no way out. And now, standing here, watching you mask your pain with that forced smile, he knew one thing for certain.

Once these games are over, he would find them.

Soon enough, In-ho saw the full extent of your kindness. He watched the way you treated player 222. Of course, everyone who learned of her condition was gentle with her, but the way you cared for her was different. Softer, warmer, motherly and deeply sincere.

What he didn’t realize yet was how much he liked seeing that kindness spread from you to everyone else, including him.

He didn’t yet understand that he was drawn to you the way the tide is drawn to the moon. Inevitably, irresistibly, without question.

Then came the moment when everyone in the group began introducing themselves.

“My name is [Your Full Name],” you said next, offering a small smile. “I’ve never checked what it means.”

From the corner of his eye, In-ho noticed the others nodding in acknowledgment, but his focus stayed on you. He smiled to himself, content. Now he had your name.

Before joining the game as a spy, he hadn’t bothered learning the players’ names. Why would he? Ninety-nine percent of them wouldn’t make it to the end.

Now, however, knowing your name felt like something worth keeping.

“It sounds perfect for you. Beautiful, even,” he said.

Your reaction was immediate. Your head dipped, eyes lowering as if his words had caught you off guard. There was a flicker of shyness, an innocence to the way you absorbed his compliment. He stared at you quietly, taking in that moment before finally introducing himself.

“I’m Oh Young-il.”

“Young-il?” Player 390, whose name was Jung-bae, blinked.

“Yes,” In-ho gestured toward his player number. “Young-il sounds like ‘zero one,’ and that’s my number. Easy to remember.”

Player 388, Dae-ho, looked at him with amazement. “Oh, that’s true! Your name is your number!”

“What a coincidence,” you remarked, smiling. “Maybe the game makers noticed the connection and assigned you as 001 on purpose.”

In-ho’s smile widened in amusement, finding your comment inwardly hilarious. “Who knows? It does feel a little too perfect.”

***

“[Your name].”

In-ho’s head turned instinctively. Gi-hun had approached and now stood beside you on the staircase. It was right after the announcement of how much each surviving player would receive if the majority voted for X.

He didn’t even know why he reacted like that – instinctive and swift. It wasn’t even his real name, but hearing yours always seemed to pull his attention.

Gi-hun stared at you, his expression solemn.

“If the vote goes our way and we leave this game, memorize my phone number,” he said. “Contact me. I want to help you and your situation.”

Something dark curled in In-ho’s chest. There it is. He barely held back a scoff. That oh-so-heroic self. Trying to impress her that much, Gi-hun?

But Gi-hun had no idea what was running through In-ho’s mind. He kept going.

“I still have billions of won left. More than enough to help your family. If you’re more comfortable, we can arrange to meet somewhere. Maybe at a park or a subway station.”

Pathetic.

Gi-hun was dangling a solution in front of you, playing the role of savior like he always did. But what irritated In-ho more was your reaction. You looked amazed. Grateful, even. The appreciation in your eyes, the warmth in your voice as you responded, “Thank you. That would mean a lot.”

In-ho’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening. His gaze flickered between you both, the sight of it making his stomach churn. The idea of you meeting Gi-hun outside this game, of continuing this connection, of sharing moments beyond these walls. It unsettled him in a way he didn’t want to acknowledge.

If the majority voted X, you and Gi-hun would meet again. You’d talk, you’d share stories, you’d smile at him the way you sometimes smiled at In-ho now. And that displeased him more than it should have.

More than it ever should have.

Then In-ho spoke up, “I’d like to help as well.”

You turned to him swiftly, wide-eyed in astonishment. In-ho instinctively smiled, satisfied that your attention was back where it belonged – on him.

He added with a reassuring tone, “Whether it’s protection or financial support, I’ll do whatever I can. If we leave this place, let’s set up a meeting as well.”

Your cheeks tinged with a faint crimson before you bowed your head in gratitude. “Thank you so much, you two.”

In-ho nodded, but just as he looked up, his gaze met Gi-hun’s. The younger man was frowning at him. The two locked eyes, exchanging a silent but charged stare. Then, Gi-hun’s gaze flickered to the O patch on In-ho’s chest.

Oh? Is he doubting me because I voted to stay last time?

In-ho kept his voice even as he addressed Gi-hun directly. “Don’t worry. I want to stop here too.”

Gi-hun’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but something about his expression remained unreadable. In-ho thought that was the end of it. But then Gi-hun nodded and spoke again.

“Ah, right. You have a wife waiting for you at the hospital.”

Something snapped in In-ho. His jaw clenched, his body tensed, every nerve in his body suddenly alert. He didn’t need to glance at you to know that Gi-hun’s words hit you like a punch to the chest. He could feel the weight of your stunned silence, the realization crashing over you like a tidal wave.

He knew exactly what must be running through your mind. After all, there was something between you two. So subtle, yet undeniably alive. You and he had been moving toward something, slow and inevitable, changing the way he saw the world – changing him. You had altered something in his very chemistry, and he knew you felt it too.

But now?

Now you knew he was married. Or in your head at that moment, is married.

He didn’t need to ask to understand the kind of person you were. You were the type to respect boundaries, to step back the moment you realized there was a line you shouldn’t cross. You would let go, even if it hurt you, because you were that kind and selfless. And that realization made his stomach twist.

Sure, he should have told you. He should have explained everything. About his wife, about what had happened. But he had wanted to tell you on his own terms, when you were alone, when he had control over how the truth was revealed.

But Gi-hun had taken that choice away from him.

It wasn’t an accident. It was too perfectly timed, too deliberate. In-ho’s mind reeled. Could it be that Gi-hun had noticed? Had he seen something between you two?

Does he like you too?

Is he trying to put an end to whatever was growing between us?

His fists curled at his sides as he forced himself to keep his face neutral. But the damage had already been done. And worst of all, now you knew.

After the majority of players voted to stay in the games, In-ho’s eyes subconsciously searched for you. When he found you lying in bed, he gravitated toward you without thinking. But he wasn’t the only one. Dae-ho and Jun-hee were also approaching.

His gaze flickered to Gi-hun. There he stood, frozen in the middle of the X zone, drowning in despair over the result, over the players’ greed. In-ho should have enjoyed the sight, should have taken satisfaction in watching Gi-hun’s naive ideals crumble. This vote had proved In-ho right. These players weren’t victims. They had chosen to stay.

Yet, instead of smirking at Gi-hun’s misery, In-ho kept walking toward you.

When he reached your bed, he realized you were trying to sleep. It was obvious. You were disappointed too.

Dae-ho sighed beside him. “I’m disappointed too. Jung-bae voting for O? I didn’t see that coming. I felt like screaming, ‘Sir, what are you thinking?’ at him. He agreed with us to vote for going back home just moments before the vote.”

“It can’t be helped,” In-ho spoke up, his tone even. “People tend to change their minds once they’re standing at the voting counter.”

His eyes lingered on your face, searching for any sign that his presence had an impact on you. But there was none.

Was it because you knew about my marriage? Had that changed things between us already?

He didn’t like that thought. He didn’t like the uncertainty it brought.

He found himself staring longer than he should have, lost in thought, until movement from Dae-ho snapped him out of it. The man leaned against the pillar of your bunk bed, exhaling a heavy sigh. “I understand him, but… what was Jung-bae thinking?”

In-ho cast a dark glance at Dae-ho, who remained oblivious. He noticed it then – the way Dae-ho hovered, the way he was so quick to linger by your side.

Did he like you?

It made sense. You were warmth in a place like this, a rare softness amidst brutality. Of course, others would be drawn to you. But In-ho didn’t want that. He didn’t know why, but the thought of someone else getting too close to you made something stir inside him. Something possessive.

So he acted.

Without a word, he sat down at the far corner of your bed, closing the distance between you both. He was now the closest to you, closer than Dae-ho, closer than anyone else.

“There’s no use thinking about it now,” he said, his voice steady. “The votes are done. Let’s focus on staying together and winning the game again tomorrow.”

Then came the moment when you refused to get up and queue for dinner.

“Don’t be like that,” Dae-ho urged. “You’ll end up weak and all skinny tomorrow.”

A brief silence followed before you quipped, “I’m trying to go on a diet anyway, so it’s fine.”

Dae-ho waved off your excuse. “Haih, you look beautiful already. Now get up—”

Before he could continue, In-ho spoke up, his voice firm yet composed. “It’s okay. You two go on ahead. The queues are getting long. I’ll persuade her.”

Dae-ho and Jun-hee hesitated, but after a moment, they left.

In-ho turned back to you, watching as you remained lying in bed, unmoving, your disappointment in the voting result still weighing heavily on you. He then attempted to coax you into queuing for dinner, but you remained lying in bed. You had no appetite, no motivation, only a heavy frustration that dulled your sense of hunger.

In-ho knew at this moment that coaxing you further would be useless. But he could do something else. He could make sure you ate.

After all, the next game was the Mingle game. Running, speed, stamina. It would all matter. And you wouldn’t get far on an empty stomach.

So, without another word, he left and joined the dinner queue. When he reached the front, the worker guard supervising the line handed him a single set of a round bun and a carton of milk.

In-ho didn’t take it.

Instead, he reached straight into the box, his fingers closing around a bun and a milk carton. He slipped them smoothly into the pocket of his jacket, then grabbed another set as if nothing had happened.

The worker guard hesitated, momentarily stunned. Behind him, a manager noticed but did nothing. Of course, they wouldn’t stop him. They knew exactly who he was.

Without another glance, In-ho turned and walked away, making sure none of the other players saw what he had done.

In-ho arrived at your bedside and called your name softly. The moment your eyes fluttered open, he handed you your set of dinner. You frowned before resting your head back against the pillow.

“I don’t want to eat your dinner. Don’t worry about me,” you murmured.

In-ho was amused. Even after knowing about his marriage, even when he knew you were hungry, your kindness and concern for him still remained. That part of you hadn’t changed. He glanced around briefly before revealing another set of dinner from his jacket.

“It’s not mine,” he told you. “It’s yours.”

Your gaze shifted to the food in his hands. Two sets – two buns and two cartons of milk. Surprise flickered across your face as you slowly sat up, the blanket slipping down from your shoulders.

“You got two?”

“I took another set on your behalf,” he admitted, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Your eyes widened. “We can do that?”

His smile grew in amusement. “We can’t.”

You stared at him, perplexed. “Then how did you get two?”

He extended the dinner toward you again, his voice calm yet knowing. “I know what to say to the guards. My line of work taught me how.”

***

[Back to present…]

“I may have led this hell myself, but I will be the one to keep you from burning.”

You closed your eyes, torn between the storm inside you and the undeniable pull of his touch.

Sensing no resistance from you, In-ho pulled the blanket around your naked body. His movements were careful and tender as if handling something fragile. Once you clutched it closer around yourself, he kissed your temple before shifting away from you.

You watched in silence as he sat at the side of the bed, bent down and retrieved a radio from a pocket of his Front Man coat. He pressed the button and brought it close to his bare face. “What’s the status on my dinner?”

A static-filled voice responded, “Currently being prepared, sir. It will be delivered shortly.”

You stared at his side profile quietly, noticing how attractive he looked from this angle.

In-ho informed, “Make another serving. Bring them both to my room as usual.”

“Understood.”

He set the radio down and turned back to you. His hair, no longer slicked back with oil, was all over his forehead. He looked every bit the Young-il you grew to love. And oh, it melted your guard as you stared at him quietly. His eyes – which you had seen turned dark and ruthless more than once – were now looking back at you softly.

He looked away and got up from the bed. He went to grab a black towel, wrapping it around his hips. He then retrieved a glass and a water bottle from the cupboard behind his study desk, pouring the clear liquid into the glass before turning back to you.

Silently, he extended it toward you. You hesitated for a moment before taking it from him, bringing it to your lips and drinking deeply. The cool water soothed your dry throat, but it did nothing to ease the tension gripping your chest.

“Wait here and rest up,” he said, his voice steady. “I’ll call you when your dinner has arrived.”

“But Young—” you caught yourself, your lips pressing into a thin line before correcting, “I mean, In-ho. What will happen now? Will the games continue like usual?”

He met your gaze, but said nothing. His silence weighed heavier than any answer could have. You could see it in his eyes – this was the path he had chosen, the role he had accepted. The games would go on.

Disappointment settled over you like a thick fog, dimming whatever flicker of hope you had clung to. “What about our friends?”

Still, no answer. Just that same unreadable stare. A wall between you that you weren’t sure could ever be broken.

The sudden shrill ring of a wired telephone shattered the silence, making you flinch under the blanket. In-ho, too, tensed at the sound, his gaze snapping toward the door. His entire posture stiffened. You watched him carefully as he stared into space, contemplating.

Without turning back to you, he muttered, “Wait here.”

He strode to where his Front Man attire lay discarded on the floor. You observed as he put on his boxer and black pants and retrieved the dark coat, pulling it over his broad shoulders before reaching for the smooth, geometrical mask. He placed it over his face, transforming instantly from the man you knew into the enigma that ruled this place.

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you swathed in the blanket on his bed. You kept still, suppressing even your breathing as you sharpened your hearing, hoping to catch fragments of the conversation.

The ringing ceased, replaced by the deep, robotic distortion of his voice as he answered in fluent English.

“Front Man speaking.”

A pause stretched. You wished you could hear the other caller but the walls swallowed the words before they could reach you. Then, In-ho’s voice emerged again, composed and authoritative.

“Ensure they don’t get anywhere close to this location.”

Another beat of silence. Then, he added, “All eyes are on Player 456. We will not allow another incident.”

You inhaled sharply. He was talking about Gi-hun. A cold realization settled over you. Gi-hun was still seen as a threat. They were watching his every move, ensuring he wouldn't instigate another uprising.

A long pause followed. You assumed the call had ended when you heard the soft ding of the elevator from beyond the door. Your heartbeat quickened.

Footsteps. Several of them. Boots clicking against the polished black and gold floor. Then, In-ho’s voice echoed once more, deep and authoritative. “Place them in the dining room.”

More steps, followed by the faint creak of a door opening. Ten seconds later, you heard those footsteps again in the hallway before another ding of the elevator.

Seconds later, the door to the bedroom where you lay opened. It was In-ho, fully dressed in his Front Man attire except for the mask. He had removed it, and his hoodie was down.

“Our dinner has arrived,” he announced as he stepped inside, standing beside the bed. His gaze softened as he looked down at you. “Can you stand?”

With your hands clutching the blanket tightly around yourself, you shifted toward the side of the bed. That’s when a hand, palm up, hovered in front of you. You blinked, glancing up at him with wide, hesitant eyes. In-ho was offering his hand to you.

You hesitated, your gaze flickering between his eyes and his outstretched palm, before finally placing your hand in his. His fingers curled around yours, firm yet gentle, as he helped you rise from the bed. Your legs wobbled the moment your feet touched the floor, but his steady grip anchored you.

Before you could sway again, he slid an arm around your shoulders, drawing you closer against his chest. The warmth of his body radiated through the fabric of his clothing, and you gawked at him in quiet astonishment. The unexpected tenderness of the gesture, the close proximity of your bodies, left you feeling strangely breathless.

In-ho met your gaze, his expression calm and reassuring. “Let's go. I'll help you to the bathroom so you can clean up.”

Without another word, he guided you across the room, his arm remaining securely around your shoulders. Your naked form was still wrapped in the heavy black blanket from his bed, the fabric trailing along the floor as you moved. Yet, he seemed utterly unbothered by it. If anything, his focus was solely on ensuring you remained steady on your feet.

The two of you made your way toward the bathroom in silence. Each step sent a dull ache through your body, a lingering reminder of the intensity from earlier. But with In-ho's arm keeping you steady, the exhaustion felt more bearable.

You stepped into the opulent black and gold bathroom, feeling the contrast between the cool marble floor and your warm skin. A long, polished black marble sink stretched along one side of the room, adorned with gold-trimmed mirrors that reflected the soft, ambient lighting. The walk-in shower stood enclosed by sleek glass doors, its golden fixtures gleaming under the soft illumination. In the far corner, a luxurious bathtub rested as if waiting to cradle someone in its warmth.

In-ho guided you toward the shower, his arm still loosely wrapped around your shoulders. Stopping just before the glass door, he cautiously released his hold on you.

“You should take a shower first,” he said gently. “Then we can have dinner together.”

You nodded quietly, shifting slightly under his gaze. Your fingers hesitated before finally loosening the grip on the blanket wrapped around your form. The cool air brushed against your bare skin, making you shiver slightly.

Without a word, In-ho peeled the blanket off of you and folded it before he placed it over the marble sink. His movements were calm but when he turned back, his gaze darkened. His eyes roamed over your form, the once-calm expression clouded with something deeper. Something raw. Lust and longing flickered in his face, restrained yet unmistakable.

Your breath hitched as you noticed the way he was looking at you, heat rising to your cheeks. You quickly averted your gaze, pushing open the shower door as a means of breaking the tension. Stepping inside, you took a moment to examine the golden fixtures, scanning for a way to turn the water on.

Before you could figure it out, In-ho followed you inside, his presence looming close behind.

“Here,” he murmured, stepping forward. His fingers brushed against yours briefly before he reached up, adjusting the settings on the panel.

“This controls the temperature,” he explained, demonstrating how to find the right heat. Then, turning a different handle, he activated the rainfall shower above, letting warm water cascade down in smooth, steady streams. “And this is for the pressure.”

You stood still as the heat of the water mixed with the heat of his body near yours. The tension between you was thick, tangible. You swallowed hard, willing yourself to focus on the shower rather than the man beside you.

In-ho studied you for a moment longer before stepping back, his gaze lingering on your form. His voice was barely audible above the sound of the rainfall shower as he said, “I'll be outside when you're ready.”

With one last fleeting glance, he exited the shower, closing the glass door behind him. As the steam from the hot water filled the room, it obscured your view of him through the glass. By the time you lifted your gaze, he was already gone.

Dinner was quiet, tension thick in the air. The black and gold-themed dining room, though elegant, felt stifling. Both of you wore matching black bathrobes, fresh from the shower, the scent of soap still lingering.

You ate slowly, your mind too preoccupied to focus on the food. Across the table, In-ho watched you, his dark eyes lingering. There was something restrained in his gaze. Something dark and lustful.

Once the meal ended, In-ho stood and gestured for you to follow. You hesitated but eventually rose, trailing behind him through the grand halls.

The walk to his bedroom felt slow. When you entered the dimly lit space, unease settled in your chest. You sat on the bed as In-ho turned to the door. Without hesitation, he reached for the lock and twisted it shut. The soft click echoed, sending a shiver down your spine.

***

[The next morning…]

Several hours later, after sharing a shower, you both found yourselves in his bedroom. In-ho was getting dressed in his Front Man outfit, while you, still wrapped in your black bathrobe, searched the room for something.

He noticed and pointed. “Your clothes are over there.”

You followed his gesture and saw black pants and a matching trench coat. It looked just like his outfit, but there was no geometric mask for you.

After a moment of hesitation, you asked, “Where’s my uniform?”

In-ho turned to you, his dark eyes locking onto yours. His hair was still messy from the shower, hanging over his forehead. He looked you over before asking with a neutral expression, “What uniform?”

“My manager uniform,” you clarified.

He looked away, adjusting his coat. His posture stiffened as he responded, “You don’t need to disguise yourself as a manager anymore. You can stay here until the games are over.”

Your eyes widened. “Are you serious? You can’t keep me locked up here the entire time.”

“I’m not,” he said simply. He finished adjusting his coat and turned back to face you, his expression unreadable. “You’re safer here. You won’t have to worry about getting caught.”

You shook your head. “But I still want to wear the disguise.”

His gaze hardened. “You want to help them in the next game, don’t you?”

You didn’t answer. He had figured it out instantly. He knew you were thinking about your friends – Jun-hee, Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Dae-ho, Yong-sik and his mother, Hyun-ju. Even Se-mi, who had been difficult to trust you, was on your mind.

Instead of confirming it, you asked, “Is that wrong?”

He stared at you with a conflicted expression. Something about this moment made him hesitate. It was as if there was something he didn’t want you to know.

“You can’t help much for the next game,” he finally said.

You blinked, caught off guard by his words. The statement confused you. Worry crept in as you thought about your friends, who were about to play the fifth game. If you couldn’t do anything, did that mean they were in serious danger? What kind of game was it that even a disguised manager couldn’t intervene?

You stared at him wide-eyed. “What’s the next game?”

In-ho looked at you like he had been expecting the question but dreaded it. He didn’t answer. His hesitation only fueled your curiosity.

“What is it?” you pressed softly.

He looked away, casting his gaze down. His jaw tightened as he seemed to struggle with himself. Finally, after a long pause, he admitted, “The next game is called ‘Why Did You Come to My House.’”

You frowned. You recognized that children’s game. It was a team-based competition where one side had to take over all the members of the other team to win. But something didn’t add up. How could a game like that lead to player eliminations?

A heavy silence settled between you. In-ho glanced at you, noticing your confusion. He quickly averted his gaze before speaking again, “The surviving players will be separated randomly into either the blue or red team.”

Without another word, he turned toward the door. You could tell there was more he wanted to explain, so you followed him. The next room was dimly lit, its centerpiece a mannequin dressed in a black suit with a golden animal mask covering its head.

In-ho stopped before the dressing table. He reached for a small bottle of men’s hair oil, pouring a little into his hands before combing his hair back neatly. The slicked-back style made his sharp features even more defined. As he worked, he continued his explanation.

“Before they are taken to the next game’s location, the players will queue in front of a giant gumball machine. Each player will take a turn and receive either a red or blue ball. They will be split into two teams, regardless of their X or O patch.”

In-ho set down the bottle of hair oil and glanced at you through the mirror. His expression remained unreadable, but there was an unease in the way he carefully adjusted his collar.

“How much do you know about Why Did You Come to My House?” In-ho asked.

“A lot,” you replied. “Players split into two teams. One person from each team plays rock-paper-scissors to decide who attacks first. The two teams then stand in parallel lines, holding hands. The game begins with the defending team moving forward singing the first line of the song while the attacking team steps back. Then the attackers step forward singing the second line. The defenders ask, ‘Which flower?’ and the attackers name a player to steal. That named player faces an opponent in rock-paper-scissors. If they lose, they move into the attacker's team. If they win, they stay. This continues until one team takes all the players.”

In-ho adjusted his hair, his fingers running through it as he gave a slight nod. “That’s right. But the rules are different this time.”

You swallowed hard. The way he said it sent a chill down your spine. “What’s changed?”

He turned to you, his expression sharp. “Players still form two teams, but now, each round, both teams pick one player to face off in rock-paper-scissors. The loser isn’t just switching teams anymore. They will be eliminated.”

Your breath caught. “Eliminated? As in…”

“Yes,” In-ho said. “They’re removed from the game entirely. The rounds continue until one team loses all its players. The survivors on the winning team move on.”

Silence settled between you. The game had transformed into something far more brutal. There would be no second chances, no coming back. Just win, or disappear.

The moment the words left In-ho’s mouth, a wave of emotions crashed over you. Shock paralyzed your body. Another simple childhood game turned into a merciless execution? Your stomach twisted as the reality of it set in. Your friends, the people you had fought to protect, would be forced into a game where their survival hinged on nothing more than a hand gesture. The thought made you feel sick.

But there must be some way to stop it. Some loophole, some hidden rule that could be exploited. But as you looked at In-ho’s face, the hardened gaze he wore like armor, you knew there was none. His silence only confirmed it.

You could imagine Jun-hee, her hands cradling her belly protectively as her soft eyes darted around. You thought of Gi-hun, his stubbornness keeping him upright even as fear gnawed at his resolve. Dae-ho, Jung-bae, Hyun-ju, Yong-sik, his mother. All of them, at the mercy of this game. A game where luck decided their fate.

Then came the sadness. A deep, suffocating grief at the thought of losing them. The bonds you had formed weren’t just for survival. They had become your family. And now, one by one, they would be taken from you. The worst part was knowing you could do nothing to stop it. You had never felt so powerless.

But beneath all that pain, another emotion burned hotter, stronger. Betrayal.

Your fists clenched, your nails digging into your palms as you turned to In-ho. The man who had sheltered you, who had given you a role that kept you safe, was the same man overseeing this massacre.

“How could you let this continue?” you demanded, your voice barely above a whisper, but laced with anger.

In-ho sighed before he looked away. “These are the rules. The games have to continue.”

“Not like this!” you snapped. “Not them! They don’t deserve this!”

He replied, his voice colder now, as he stared at himself in the mirror. “But the games go on regardless of what we think. Regardless of what I think.”

You took a step closer, forcing him to meet your glare through the mirror. “But you have the power to stop it.”

“It isn’t that easy,” he turned and looked back at you. “Do you think I own this room? That I started this place? Do you think I’m the only one pulling the strings?”

“You enforce it,” you shot back. “You make sure it happens. You wear that mask and pretend you don’t care, but you do. I know you do. I saw the way you cared about Jun-hee.”

For the first time, a flicker of something flashed across In-ho’s face. A crack in the carefully constructed armor he always wore. But it was gone in an instant.

“It doesn’t matter what I feel,” he said, his voice quiet. “This is not the first time a pregnant player participates. It won’t change anything.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs. “So you’ll just let them die?”

He exhaled slowly, his eyes dark with something unreadable. “That’s how this place works. That’s how it’s always worked everywhere.”

The words stung, but they weren’t enough to shake your fury. “And you’re okay with that?”

Silence.

That was all the answer you needed.

You took a step back, feeling the weight of the conversation settle on your shoulders. It was suffocating. You had thought, maybe foolishly, that In-ho still had some shred of humanity left. That beneath the mask and the cold exterior, there was a part of him that regretted all of this. Maybe there was. But it wasn’t enough.

“So…” you stared at him in disbelief and shock. “Gi-hun was right, after all. You saw us like horses. We’re just trashes to you.”

In-ho’s reaction was immediate. His eyes widened slightly as if you had struck something deep within him. His usual unreadable expression faltered, the cracks in his composed mask growing more visible. He looked like he wanted to say something, but no words came. His lips parted, then pressed into a thin line, hesitation flickering across his face.

You glowered at him, the weight of everything suffocating. Without another word, you spun on your heel and marched into the bedroom. Your heart pounded as you scanned the room, searching for something. The floor was clean, no discarded clothes or signs of disorder. Your gaze landed on his study desk. There, neatly folded on the chair, was your square guard’s hot pink jumpsuit.

You didn’t hesitate. You grabbed it and swiftly started putting it on. Your movements were sharp, fueled by a mix of adrenaline and anger. You slid your legs in first, then pulled the sleeves over your arms. As you zipped it up, the door behind you creaked open.

“What are you doing?” In-ho’s voice carried disbelief and frustration.

You didn’t turn around. “I’m going back out there.”

“You can’t,” he said, stepping further into the room. “It’s too dangerous.”

You scoffed, adjusting the jumpsuit. “And it’s not dangerous for them? For Gi-hun, for Jun-hee, for the others? They don’t even have a choice, but I do. And I’m not staying here while they’re out there fighting for their lives.”

In-ho exhaled sharply. “The other guards will not stand by and let you ruin the games.”

Finally, you turned to face him. His hair was neatly slicked back. His expression was a storm of conflicting emotions. Anger, concern, something else buried beneath it all.

You asked pointedly, “But will they shoot me once they know who I am?”

He stayed silent, his gloved hands balling into fists at his sides.

“That’s what I thought,” you muttered, brushing past him toward the door. But before you could reach it, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist.

“Stop,” he said, his voice lower now, almost desperate. “You think you can handle this by yourself? Do you think you can stop games that have been operating for more than thirty years so easily? Stopping this place wouldn’t stop this operation completely.”

You yanked your wrist free. “Maybe not. But at least I won’t be watching from the sidelines while my friends die.”

His jaw clenched, his eyes dark with frustration. “If you get exposed, it will be hard for me to cover you.”

“I don’t care.”

He exhaled deeply as if trying to steady himself. “No matter what you do, don’t do anything rash. I care about you, but if you—”

“Then help me save them, please,” you pleaded, cutting him off.

“Them?” In-ho’s eyes narrowed as he regarded you. “Do you mean you want to save all of them? Even the ones who only care about themselves? Even someone like player 100?”

You fell silent, momentarily caught off guard by his reaction. It was in that instant you realized his defenses were beginning to crack, exposing a glimpse of the deeply held beliefs he had tried so hard to mask. 

“I want to save whoever I can,” you said firmly.

In-ho scoffed, shaking his head. “That’s naive.”

He turned away for a moment as if trying to compose himself. Then, when he faced you again, his expression was steeled with something harsher. “Some of them deserve this.”

You frowned, unsure if you had heard him correctly. “Deserve what?”

“The games,” he stood rigidly as he observed your reaction, his voice taking on a colder edge. “You think everyone here is innocent? That they all got caught up in this unfairly? That’s not true. Some of them are here because of their own selfishness. Their greed. Their complete disregard for others."

He stepped closer, his gaze intense. “Do you know what player 100 did? He borrowed billions from desperate people, promising high returns, only to vanish with their savings. He destroyed families. And player 226? He pushed his own brother into ruin just to escape his own debt, but still it isn't enough for him. Tell me, do they deserve your sympathy?”

You hesitated.

“People like them,” he continued, his voice laced with conviction, “are the reason this world is broken. They climb over others, they exploit, they lie, and when they fall, they expect to be saved. Why should you risk yourself for them?”

You stayed quiet, giving him space to speak. You wanted to see what was hidden behind his guarded expressions, to understand his views and the way he managed these games. You had fallen for Oh Young-il, but you still needed to know more about Hwang In-ho. The man behind the mask. The enforcer of the rules.

A lump formed in your throat, but you swallowed it down, pushing forward.

“Then what about me?” you asked, your voice steady despite the unease in your chest. “Am I a trash in your eyes too?”

In-ho stiffened. His jaw clenched, his fingers curling into his palms. His breath came slower, heavier as if you had struck something deep within him. For a long moment, he didn’t respond, and the air between you felt heavier than ever.

Finally, he exhaled sharply, his gaze locking onto yours. “You’re different.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs.

“How so?” you asked, your voice softer now, wary of his answer.

In-ho’s gaze wavered just slightly. “You…"

Your breath caught in your throat. Your eyes widened, anticipation shimmering in them like a reflection of the truth you had been waiting to hear. It felt like the answer was right there, hanging in the air, waiting to be spoken. A confirmation of something unspoken yet deeply felt. It felt like this answer would determine everything – whether you could trust him, whether there was a future for the two of you at all.

But just as the moment reached its breaking point, a sharp, static crackle interrupted it. The radio inside In-ho’s coat pocket buzzed to life, and the distorted voice of the masked officer cut through the heavy silence.

“Captain, the VIPs have arrived.”

The words shattered the fragile space between you like glass meeting concrete. In-ho’s expression stiffened instantly, the vulnerability in his eyes vanishing behind a hardened mask. He reached into his coat, pulling out the radio, his grip tightening around it as if bracing himself.

He pressed the button and told through the radio, “Understood. I will be there.”

He put away the radio and turned to you. “They’re here earlier than expected. I have to go.”

The abrupt shift left you feeling unsteady as if the ground beneath your feet had tilted. The moment that had almost happened between you was gone, yanked away by the cruel reality of where you both stood.

In-ho walked back toward the door and said without looking back, “Stay here.”

You glared at his back, frustration boiling inside you. Like hell you were going to sit here while your friends fought for their lives. Without a second thought, you grabbed your manager mask from the table and followed him out into the hallway.

As you caught up, you saw him raise his Front Man mask and fit it over his face, the sharp angles making him look as unreadable as ever. You stood behind him and said with a firm tone, “There’s no way I’m standing aside and watching my friends die.”

He didn’t stop moving. Your voice remained low yet insistent as you added, “Is there something you can do? Anything? Can you let them live even if they get eliminated?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he turned around and kept walking. He exited the dressing room and into the hallway. You followed him like an aimless kitten. His silence dragged the tension between you to its breaking point.

You wanted to grab his arm, force him to stop, but something about the way he carried himself told you that he was already at war with whatever answer he would give.

Suddenly, he halted in the middle of the hallways. It’s as if he knew that you were following him and would not stop unless he gave a clear answer.

He let out a slow breath and spoke up, voice distorted and robotic behind that mask. “If I do that, it will go against everything I enforce in these games.”

You frowned, frustration simmering beneath your skin. You took a step closer until you stood right beside him. With his body still facing the door and yours facing him, you asked, “What exactly do you uphold in these games?”

He turned his head slightly, just enough so you could see the sharp lines of his mask in the dim light.

“Fairness,” he said. “Equality. Players and guards alike. The rules apply to everyone.”

You exhaled, the ache in your chest growing heavier. “But this is different. Their lives matter too. Couldn’t you change that? Just this once? Just for them only.”

You hesitated before continuing, your voice barely above a whisper as you counted your friends who were still playing. “Jun-hee, Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Dae-ho, Yong-sik and his mother, Hyun-ju, Se-mi, and also Myung-gi. Couldn’t you hide them if they get eliminated, and just let the O players finish the games.”

Silence stretched between you. In-ho stood still, his masked face tilted slightly downward as if staring at you. He didn’t speak. He didn’t move. He simply watched you, the stillness making your heart pound harder. Was he considering it? Was there a part of him that wanted to agree?

Seconds passed. Then a minute.

You held your breath, waiting for something. Anything. The soft hum of distant machinery filled the space, but all you could focus on was him. The way he was standing. The way his head was slightly bowed as if your words had reached a place within him that even he wasn’t sure existed anymore.

Then, finally, he inhaled slowly.

“If I do that,” he said at last, his voice low, careful, “I put everything at risk. Myself. The structure. The rules that keep this place from falling apart.”

You swallowed hard. “But what happens if you don’t? What happens when you watch them die, knowing you could’ve done something?”

A flicker of hesitation. You saw it in the way his posture shifted, in the way his fingers twitched ever so slightly at his sides. He had thought about this before. Maybe not about your friends specifically, but about something like this. About the cost of playing his role.

“I don’t have the luxury of questioning these things,” he finally muttered.

You stepped closer, your voice softer now, almost pleading. “Then why are you hesitating?”

He turned fully to face you now. “Because you’re asking me to break the rules. To compromise everything I’ve built to keep order.”

“And I’m asking you to remember that you’re human.”

Another silence stretched between you. You could feel it crackling in the air, the tension thick and suffocating. He was fighting something inside himself, something he didn’t want to admit.

For the first time since you had known him, he looked at you in long silence as if he wasn’t sure of himself. As if, just maybe, you had found the one crack in his armor that he had spent years trying to keep hidden.

And you wanted to put more cracks in his wall. Stepping closer, you tilted your head up, meeting his gaze with wide, unwavering eyes. The height difference made you appear smaller, but there was nothing fragile about the way you spoke. Your voice was soft, yet edged with something sharp.

“If you can’t do anything, then fine,” you said. “But if they die, I will hate you.”

In-ho remained silent. He took in the restrained fury burning behind your eyes, the way your body stood tense, ready to pounce like a mother cat protecting her own.

You exhaled slowly, steadying yourself. “Is this who you want to be? A man who lets people die because everyone is like a trash to him? A man who stands by and watches when he could’ve made a difference?”

Still, no answer. You shook your head.

“I refuse to believe you’ve lost every part of yourself,” you said. “The man I see now… the one who hesitates, who lingers on my words… he is not a machine. He is not just a mask. And I don’t think he wants to be.”

Silence stretched between you.

His posture remained rigid, but his breathing had changed. A fraction deeper. A fraction slower. Like something was unraveling inside him, thread by thread.

You sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to answer. You didn’t know if your words got through his wall – his mask. But you couldn’t linger here any longer. Your friends’ lives mattered more.

Reaching for your manager mask, you pulled it over your face, the smooth surface cool against your skin. Without another word, you turned and strode toward the elevator. You pressed the down button, and almost immediately, the doors slid open.

Stepping inside, you turned around just in time to see him still standing in the same spot, unmoving. He looked frozen in place as if caught between the choice of letting you go and calling you back.

Then, just as the elevator doors began to close, the radio in his coat crackled to life.

“Captain, the VIPs are looking for you,” came the masked officer’s distorted voice from the other end.

The last thing you saw before the doors shut was In-ho, his body stiffening at the summons. And then he was gone, swallowed by the mechanical whir of the elevator descending.

***

You were in a storage room somewhere within the game management facility. Your mask was off, clutched tightly in your hand. Sweat clung to your skin, making strands of hair stick to your face. You stared at the floor, lost in thought, your mind racing through everything you had just learned.

“So that’s the next game,” Gyeong-seok murmured, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

You had managed to find him and 011 among the sea of soldiers. 011, ever the cautious one, had led you both to this storage room, away from prying eyes.

You had told them everything you knew – or almost everything. You had carefully left out certain details: the true identity of the Front Man, his past as player 001, and most importantly, your involvement with him. Some things were too dangerous – and embarrassing for you – to reveal.

011, her own mask discarded on the table beside her, exhaled. Her dark hair clung to her skin just like yours as she said, “I’m surprised he told you that much.”

“Is there any loophole to save them?” you asked, voice tight with urgency. If anyone knew the inner workings of the games well enough to find an opening, it was her.

011’s gaze flickered, scanning your expression before she responded. “This game had been played twice throughout my years here. The way I see it... I think we can't do much.”

You and Gyeong-seok were stunned, the color draining from your faces as her words sank in. The latter straightened slightly from the wall and said, “Are you sure?”

She lowered her gaze, unable to meet his forlorn expression. With a heavy sigh, she said, “In this game, the soldiers shoot the players who lose rock, paper, scissors on the spot, just like in the Seven-Legged Hexathlon and the Open, Dongdaemun game. We can't change that. If some soldiers discreetly lead certain players to an isolated area for an out-of-sight elimination, it would raise too many questions.”

You lowered your gaze, staring at the floor, your mind racing for any possible way to save your friends. The more you thought about it, the more impossible it seemed. Every scenario ended the same way. With them being forced to play, with them losing, with them being gunned down in front of everyone.

Hopelessness settled into your bones. You felt so small, so powerless. It was suffocating. But you couldn’t accept it. There had to be a loophole somewhere. A flaw in the system. Something they hadn’t accounted for. You just had to find it.

Just as despair threatened to take over, 011 spoke up, “But there is a way…”

Your head snapped up, and Gyeong-seok turned sharply, both of you staring at her with wide, hopeful eyes. She hesitated, her gaze flickering between you both before she looked away. The weight of what she was about to say was clear in her hesitation.

“What is it?” Gyeong-seok asked in a hopeful tone.

011 let out a heavy sigh, crossing her arms. “There’s an underground cave that leads to the ocean below us. Dive packs and oxygen tanks are stored there already. If I can make it there, I’ll swim to the nearest island and find help.”

You blinked, trying to process what she had just said. “Wait… there’s a way off this place?”

She nodded. “Yes. But it’s not simple. While the access to get there is easy, CCTVs are everywhere. If I’m caught in the live feed, the masked officer or the Front Man will be alerted.”

Gyeong-seok narrowed his eyes. “That's risky.”

011 met his gaze, her expression firm. “It is. But there is another access to get there. It's in the kitchen. But workers are regularly passing that room.”

You perked up. “Workers?”

011 nodded to you. “Yes, workers. This is where you could divert their attention as a manager.”

You swallowed hard, the idea beginning to take shape in your mind. “How far is the swim?”

“Roughly two kilometers,” she answered. “It won’t be easy, but there are dive packs.”

Your stomach twisted at the thought of her out in open water, alone, with no guarantee she would make it. But what other option did you have? Staying meant watching your friends die one by one. Leaving meant at least trying to fight back.

Gyeong-seok stepped closer to 011, his voice firm. “I’ll come with you.”

011 seemed taken aback. “No. You stay here.”

“It is unsafe for you in the open ocean alone,” he insisted, locking eyes with her. “I will go with you.”

011 stared at him with quiet intensity, her hard gaze softening into doe-eyes for him. You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was an unspoken tension between them. While 011 had always kept her distance from both you and Gyeong-seok, it suddenly became clear. There was a reason she had chosen to save him in the first place. It was thanks to him that she saved you too.

Finally, 011 turned to you. “Will you be okay staying here alone?”

You nodded without hesitation. “Yes. You two just go ahead. I will do whatever I can to keep them safe.”

With that, the plan was set.

011 led you toward the kitchen, guiding you through the corridors like she knew them by heart. As she had said, workers swarmed the kitchen, moving in and out like a colony of ants. The scent of food filled the air, mingling with the tension thick in your chest.

You straightened your posture, adopting the authoritative presence of a manager. With short, clipped orders, you directed the circle guards away, telling them to fetch supplies elsewhere. They obeyed without a question. Soon, the kitchen was empty, save for you, 011, and Gyeong-seok, now in disguise.

011 wasted no time. She turned off the lights, plunging the room into a dim haze. You locked the doors behind you, ensuring no one would walk in unexpectedly. Then, she and Gyeong-seok pushed a massive freezer away from the wall, the heavy metal scraping against the tiled floor.

Behind it was a crawl-sized hole, just big enough for a person to slip through.

“This is it,” 011 said, turning to you. “Please wait for us. We will alert the authorities as fast as possible.”

You swallowed hard, nodding. “Be careful.”

She nodded wordlessly before slipping through the hole, Gyeong-seok following close behind. Under 011's guidance, he grabbed the chain tied to the back of the freezer and pulled it back into its original position.

You exhaled slowly, turning back toward the locked door. Now came the hardest part: waiting.

***

You had returned to the control room, hands moving over the monitor as you operated the live feeds. Only the masked officer stood supervising the room, overseeing the overall operation. As you worked, your gaze occasionally flicked to the dormitory’s feed.

The players had just woken up. Your eyes scanned for your friends, and soon, you noticed a gathering. A small crowd had formed around one bed in the X zone. Your stomach tightened.

Before you could observe longer, the elevator chimed. The sound made your shoulders stiffen. You turned slightly, just enough to see the doors slide open, revealing Hwang In-ho clad in his full Front Man attire. His presence alone made the air in the control room heavier. He stepped out, surveying the space with his usual scrutiny. Instinctively, you looked away, forcing your attention back on the feeds, watching as pink guards moved through the halls.

You could feel his gaze lingering on you. It burned through your back, making every movement at your console feel heavy and scrutinized.

You couldn’t believe you had slept with him… multiple rounds. You had slept with the overseer of this whole operation. You pursed your lips to a thin line beneath your manager mask and mused, Gosh, you really are a whore.

“What’s the status on the players’ breakfast?” In-ho finally spoke in his deep, distorted voice behind that mask.

The masked officer, standing near the main monitors, turned toward him. “They are ready to be distributed.”

In-ho gave a curt nod. “And the next game’s preparations?”

“Everything is on schedule,” the masked officer responded. “We expect to begin at the designated time.”

Before In-ho could reply, static crackled through the masked officer’s radio. “Officer, we have a situation in the dormitory.”

Both the Front Man and the masked officer turned their attention to the monitors. You stole another glance at the live feed, your heart pounding faster. The cluster of players in the X zone had grown, figures moving frantically around the same bed.

“What is it?” the masked officer asked.

The guard on the other end hesitated for a moment before replying, “It appears a player is giving birth.”

Your breath caught. Your fingers froze over the console. Your eyes widened.

Jun-hee is giving birth.

NSFW ver. : Chapter 18.2

NEXT : Chapter 19

PREV : Chapter 17.1

Story Masterlist

Thank you for the warm wishes, everyone! I am still a bit ill which is odd because a normal fever usually lasts for 3-4 days for me but now it still persists albeit very vaguely. But I've taken medicines and all so I will be fine. Please feel free to leave comments and feedback about my story, the characters, the "you", and practically anything! I love reading your comments, especially long ones! It motivates me a lot! What do you think about In-ho's flashback and P.O.V? Did I make him OOC? Is the length of that flashback good enough? Then, what about In-ho's care for you after your lovemaking? And what about your confrontation with him? He told you about the fifth game. Do you know where I got that Why Did You Come To My House game details from? And oh, what about 011 and Gyeong-seok going to the underground cave and leaving the place to find help? Do you think it will happen that way in the third season? Finally, what do you think about Jun-hee giving birth at this moment? Considering there have been signs and tells in the series that she was due, it is predicted that she would give birth in this place. I really want to know your reaction on this! Anyway, thank you very much for giving my story a chance. I love reading and re-reading all of your comments!

Leave a comment on the masterlist post to be added to the taglist.

[lesmiix]

hii!! could you write hcs/oneshot of hyun-ju finding out reader has a daughter? like how she would react and bond with her?

have a lovely day/night!! ❤️

Hyun-ju finding out you have a daughter!

Hyun-ju x Fem!reader

Summary: You started dating Hyun-ju not so long ago, but she still doesn't know you have a daughter.

a/n: OMG THIS IS SOOOO CUTE Thank you so much for this request!!!

Hyun-ju requests are OPEN

You would have told Hyun-ju about your daughter not too long after you two have started dating, maybe 3-4 weeks later.

Wether you told her accidentally or directly.

"So, uhh... Hyun-ju, there's something I really need to tell you." You said nervously, playing with your hands, you really didn't want to take too long on telling her that little secret, so you decided to tell her right after having dinner in a really nice restaurant.

"Sure, what is it?" She asked, seeing the nervoursness in your face.

"I... uh... I had a boyfriend some years ago, it was not the best relationship but we were too immature to realize what we were doing so... I ended up getting pregnant and..." You chuckled a bit. "When I told him about it, we had a really bad fight and then he just dissapeared. I didn't have the guts to abort her, so... well... I understand if you want us to stop having all of these little dates." You couldn't stare at her in the eyes, fearing to see any disgust or dissapointment look on her face.

After some seconds of silence, you heard a soft giggle.

"That's okay, pretty girl, I don't have any problem with that so, can you tell me more about her?" She said after letting a small peak on your soft lips.

She would be the best mother ever, as a result of her childhood traumas, she wouldn't want your daughter to go through the same tough stuff as her did, so she would always make sure that the little girl knew she could trust her 2 mommies.

She'd help you preparing her food, and if she was still a baby and you were not at home, she'd be the most delicate while preparing the milk, always being really carefull with the temperature. If you decided to breastfeed her, she would silently watch you both with a cute smirk on her face, resting her head on your shoulder, wondering what has she done to deserve such a beautiful family.

Hyun-ju doesn't really like to stay at home all day everyday, so she would make plans for the three of you, like going to an aquarium, amusment parks, small trips on close cities or simply going shopping to the mall.

She truly loved spending time watching movies or playing hide and seek with your daughter, even though sometimes you and your girlfriend needed some privacity and hired a babysitter for the night.

Before you moved in together, if you had to work until very late, you'd call her to ask if she could babysit your daughter for a while until you got home.

"Hey, my love, I'm going to stay a little longer at work tonight, is it okay if I asked you to babysit Sheila? I'll try to finish as soon as I can, I won't take too long, maybe three hours more, I guess... I just have a ton of paperwork to fi-" You couldn't even finish your sentence as she cut you off.

"Baby, it's okay, take the time you need, I'm on my way"

As Hyun-ju doesn't have contact with her parents anymore, you would spend christmas with your family.

She would be this kind of "respectful parenting" mom, like, she would NEVER raise her voice or her hand at her, but NEVER NEVER NEVER, doesn't matter how bad your daughter screwed up. They would have a long chat if she did something bad, but Hyun-ju would speak to her very softly.

Overall, she would be the greatest mother your daughter could have ever had.

a/n: AWW I loved how this turned out!! 😭