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scribblesofagoonerr · 13 hours ago

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𝑀𝑜𝓃𝓀𝑒𝓎 Our Girl: Growing Up | 𝒮𝑜, 𝒟𝒶𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓃’, 𝒟𝒶𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓃’, 𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐵𝓎 𝑀𝑒

summary: leah and jordan are finally made aware of the extent of abuse monkey has suffered at the hands of mark

our girl: growing up masterlist

“Honestly, Mum. I don’t know what he was thinking,” Leah sat at the kitchen table, elbows resting on the surface as she rubbed her temples in frustration. Jordan and Amanda sat across from her, mirroring her serious expression, “You should have seen acting the way he was at the match. It’s no wonder that Monkey is so… terrified of him.”

Amanda’s expression darkened, “Did he really say that? In front of everyone?”

“Yeah, without a care in the world,” Leah sighed, nodding in agreement, “He just came up to us at the end– And he was loud enough for everyone else to hear!”

“You’re kidding?” Amanda’s voice was laced with disbelief.

Jordan let out a humourless laugh, “We’re not. It’s like that man has no shame now. Like, he doesn’t even try to hide it anymore, Amanda.”

Before either Leah or Amanda could respond, the shrill ring of Leah’s phone cut through the tense atmosphere. Instinctively, she reached for it, her stomach twisting as she saw the caller ID.

“Who is it?” Jordan asked, curiously as she noted the worried expression on her girlfriend’s face.

“It’s Monkey,” Leah murmured, an uneasy feeling creeping into her chest.

The three of them exchanged a look, dread settling between them like a heavy fog.

Leah quickly swiped to answer, pressing the phone to her ear, “Monkey?”

A trembling whisper came through the line, barely audible over shaky breaths, “L… Le! I need… I need your help. Please.”

“What’s wrong, my girl?” Leah shot up from her chair, her heartbeat hammering in her ears, “Where are you? I’m coming. I’m coming right now!”

“I… I need you, Le. Please. Help me,” Your voice cracked, choked with fear, “I… I’m scared, Le. I’m so– I… I don’t want him to hurt me. Not again.”

Leah’s grip on her phone tightened, “I’m coming, Monkey. I’m coming. Just… Just stay on the phone, yeah? Don’t hang up, alright?”

“O… Okay,” You shakily replied.

“Where’s my keys?” Leah frantically scanned the kitchen, “Where are they? I can’t see them anywhere! I need them. I need to get to Monkey. Now.”

“They’re right here, Bubba,” Amanda motioned to them, handing them over.

Jordan was already on her feet, “I’m coming with you.”

Amanda’s face had gone pale, “Be careful. And bring her home.”

Leah barely nodded, her phone still glued to her ear before she was out the front door and climbing into her car, her entire world narrowing to one singular thought.

Get to you. Now.

“Le, slow down,” Jordan warned, gripping the dashboard as Leah sped through the dark streets.

“I’m not stopping until we get to her,” Leah’s voice was razor-sharp, her knuckles turning white against the steering wheel.

Jordan exhaled a sigh, “Le, listen I know you’re worried, and so am I. But if you don’t slow down, you’re going to end up in a wreck before we even get to her.”

Leah barely registered Jordan’s words, her mind solely focused on you–on the terrified, broken voice that had been whispering through the speakerphone for the past five minutes.

“Please hurry, Le,” Your voice trembled, cracking under the weight of fear, “I’m… I’m scared. I don’t want him to hurt me again.”

Leah’s jaw was clenched, stomach twisting painfully as her grip on the wheel tightened, “We’re on our way, Monkey. Just… Just hang in there, alright? Stay on the phone with us. We’ll be there soon.”

“Le,” Your voice was small, almost childlike, “I’m… I’m really scared.”

“I know, my girl,” Leah exhaled sharply, forcing herself to keep her emotions in check, “I know you’re scared, but we’re coming. Just stay on the phone and talk to Jordy, yeah? Talk to Jordy for me.”

“Uh huh,” You mumbled hesitantly. After a moment, your voice wavered again, “Jordy?”

“Hi, little one, I’m here,” Jordan reassured you in a soothing tone of voice, her own voice being a steady contrast to Leah’s barely contained rage, “We’re right around the corner now. Just hold on for us, okay? You’re being so brave, Monkey.”

“I’m scared,” You whimpered in fear, “I… I don’t like this.”

Jordan swallowed a lump that formed in her throat, “I know, little one. But just a few more minutes, and you’ll be safe in the car with us, yeah?”

“Please hurry,” You sniffed, your breath shaky, “Please, I… I don’t want him to find me.”

Leah clenched her jaw so tightly it hurt. If she ever saw your father again–no, when she saw him again–she didn’t trust herself to hold back.

None of that was important right now. You were her priority. Getting you out of there was all that mattered.

“You’re near?” You asked.

“We’re round the corner, my girl,” Leah replied as she turned the corner.

Her heart leapt into her throat.

There you were.

Small. Shaking. Curled in on yourself near the edge of the pavement with your arms wrapped tightly around your knees. The loose-fitting football kit you were still wearing was drenched in the night air, clinging to your trembling frame. You looked so tiny–so scared.

Leah slammed on the brakes, barely shifting the car into park before she threw the door open and sprinted toward you, “Monkey!”

Your head snapped up at her voice, your breath hitching as fresh tears spilled down your cheeks, “L… Le,” You whimpered.

Leah was on her knees in front of you in an instant, wrapping her arms around you and pulling you into a tight hug. You collapsed into her, your body wracked with silent sobs as you buried your face in her shoulder.

“I’m here, my girl,” Leah murmured, her voice soft but unshakable, “I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

You clutched at her jacket with trembling fingers, holding on as if she might disappear if you let go, “You… You came,” You choked out, “I thought… I thought he would find me. I thought he would hurt me again.”

Leah felt something deep inside her crack.

“Of course I am,” Leah whispered, pressing a firm kiss to the side of your head, “I’ll always be here when you need me. You don’t have to be afraid anymore, okay? I’ve got you.”

You peered up at her, searching her eyes, “You… You promise?”

Leah exhaled shakily, “I… I can’t promise, my girl. But I swear I will do everything in my power to keep you safe now. He won’t touch you again.”

“I don’t want to go back,” Your voice broke, “I don’t want to go back to that house. Please don’t take me back.”

Leah tightened her arms around you, her decision already made, “You’re coming home with me, my girl.”

There was no need for her to say anything else. She just scooped you up, carrying you as if you weighed nothing, and settled into the backseat of the car. Jordan had already moved to the driver’s seat, eyes dark with determination.

The warmth of the car was an overwhelming contrast to the cold night air, but you still trembled. Your small hands clung to Leah’s coat, refusing to let go. Leah pulled you against her chest, wrapping both arms securely around you.

“You’re safe now, my girl,” Leah whispered, rubbing slow, soothing circles against your back.

Jordan glanced at the rearview mirror, her brows furrowed in concern, “She looks absolutely freezing, Le.”

“I know,” Leah murmured, shifting to wrap more of her coat around you as she pressed another kiss to your temple, her voice unwavering, “We’ll get her warm as soon as we’re home.”

“Mum? We’re back,” Leah called as she stepped inside, tightening her grip on you.

“Oh, thank God,” Amanda’s voice was laced with relief as she saw you, before turning to Leah with a firm look, “You’d better have not been speeding in the car, Leah Cathrine!”

“What– No! Of course not,” Leah huffed, shaking her head, obviously not going to tell her the truth.

“The way you rushed out of here, I had my doubts…” Amanda raised an eyebrow, “And you’d better have not been speeding with Monkey in the car, either!”

Leah exhaled sharply, not in the mood to argue, “Mum, I need to get Monkey warm. She’s freezing and trembling like a leaf. I’m running her a bath.”

Amanda’s expression softened as she turned to you, “Hi, Monkey.”

“Hi, ‘Manda,” You barely managed a whisper.

“I have an idea,” Amanda crouched slightly, keeping her voice gentle, “How about after your bath when you’re all comfy in pyjamas, I make a hot chocolate? It won’t be as good as David, but I promise it’ll still be pretty great.”

You hesitated before giving a tiny nod, “O…Okay.”

Leah pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “Come on, my girl.” She murmured, leading you upstairs, and guiding you gently while you clung to her.

As soon as you reached the bathroom, you sank onto the closed toilet lid, too cold and drained to move as Leah busied herself with the taps.

The sound of rushing water filled the space, steam curling into the air. Leah turned back to you with a small smile, “Do you want a lot of bubbles? Or just a few?”

You didn’t answer. You just stared into space, you didn’t know what to say.

Leah watched you carefully, her heart aching at how small you looked, curled in on yourself, trembling. She kept her voice soft, and gentle, “Monkey?”

You blinked slowly, still shivering before shrugging a little, “A… A lot?”

“A lot of bubbles, coming right up,” Leah smiled and poured in a generous amount of bubble bath and sat on the edge of the tub, swirling her hand in the warm water as the bubbles grew. She glanced over, taking in the sight of you–curled in on yourself while sitting on the toilet lid, your arms wrapped tightly around you, and looking so small.

“I’ll let you get in, yeah?” Leah murmured, standing up and wiping her hands on her joggers, “I’ll be in my bedroom if you need me.”

You nodded stiffly with your gaze fixed on the tiled floor. Leah hesitated, waiting to see if you’d say anything else, but when you remained silent, she turned towards the door.

“W… Wait,” Leah’s hands were about to grip the handle when your voice, small and hesitant, stopped her.

Leah turned back immediately, “You okay, my girl?”

Your fingers curled into the hem of your football shorts. You swallowed, not meeting her eyes.

“Can you… Can you stay outside? On… on the other side of the door?” You mumbled.

Leah’s expression softened, “Of course, Monkey. Whatever you need,” She said, before stepping outside, pulling the door almost closed but leaving a small gap, just enough to show you she was still there.

You heard her settle against the wall, the quiet rustle of fabric as she sat down.

Taking a shaky breath, you forced yourself to move, peeling off your kit piece by piece. Your body ached as you climbed into the tub, the heat of the water making your bruises sting. You hissed, biting your lip as you sank lower.

The warmth helped, but it didn’t take away the exhaustion that weighed on you, nor the way your limbs felt too heavy.

For a few minutes, you just sat there, knees drawn up, letting the water lap at your skin. But then, as you reached for the shampoo bottle, your hands trembled.

You poured some into your palm and hesitated. The moment you tried to lift your arms, you felt a sharp, searing pain shoot through your ribs.

You sucked in a breath, wincing, “Ow,” You whimpered in pain.

You tried again, but your limbs felt weak. Useless.

The frustration burned behind your eyes and your throat tightened.

You hated this.

You hated feeling this weak.

Your fingers clenched into a fist, nails digging into your palm. But no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t do it.

And the worst part? You knew you wanted–needed the help.

But if you called Leah in… then she’d see the dark, ugly marks trailing along your ribs, your back and arms.

You knew she’d see the proof of everything–You didn’t want to see her face when she looked at you, and you didn’t want her to see how broken you were.

But your arms hurt. Your ribs ached. And no matter how much you willed yourself to move, you couldn’t.

“L… Le,” Your voice wavered, a lump formed in your throat, ”I… I need help.”

The door opened instantly, and Leah stepped in, her movements were quick but careful.

But the second she took in the sight of you–curled up in the tub, your arms wrapped around yourself and the bruises littering your skin–she froze.

“Oh…” Leah’s breath hitched, “Oh my God,” She looked horrified as a storm flashed behind her eyes, something dark, something furious.

Until her gaze flickered back to you, and she saw how small you looked. How vulnerable.

Leah inhaled sharply through her nose, forcing herself to push the anger aside. That could wait. Right now, you needed her.

“I… I need your help to wash my hair,” You stuttered out.

“Alright, my girl,” Leah murmured, kneeling beside the tub, “That’s not a problem. Lets’ get your hair washed, yeah?”

You nodded wordlessly.

Leah rolled her sleeves up, scooping some water in her hands before gently wetting your hair. Her touch was light, and delicate, as if she was afraid you might shatter under her hands.

Working in silence, Leah carefully lathered the shampoo before rinsing it out. Her fingers gently massaged your scalp, slow and soothing. She could feel the tension in your body, the way you were still curled in on yourself.

She didn’t rush. She didn’t push. She just kept moving, steady and calm.

When she finished, she grabbed a towel and held it open, “Come on then, out you get, my girl.”

You hesitated, but eventually, you let her wrap you up, her arms tightening just slightly around you.

Leah pressed a kiss to the top of your damp hair, “I’ve got you, my girl.”

“You get dressed, yeah? I’ll be outside the door. I’m not going far,” Leah reassured gently, her voice softer than usual.

“O… Okay. Do… Don’t go far,” You mumbled, clutching the pyjamas she handed you.

“I won’t, my girl. I promise,” Leah promised you before moving to step outside of the bedroom door, closing it with a quiet click before leaning against it. She pressed her back against the door as she tried to steady her breathing. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms.

The image of your bruised skin, the way you had flinched when she touched you–it was burned into her mind, and the rage in her chest only grew heavier with each passing second.

How could he do that to you?

You were so young. You were small. You didn’t deserve any of this. Swallowing hard, Leah tried to keep it together. But when she heard footsteps on the stairs, she didn’t even need to look up to know it was Jordan.

The moment Jordan reached the landing and caught sight of Leah’s face, she knew there was something wrong.

“Le,” Jordan’s voice was cautious as she stepped forward, “Hey, what’s wrong?” She asked, stepping closer.

Leah let out a sharp, ragged breath, her whole body vibrating with tension. And then, suddenly, it all came spilling out.

“She’s covered in bruises, Jord,” Her voice cracked, and she slammed a fist against the wall beside her, “Fucking covered in them. That bastard–”

Jordan’s jaw tightened, “Leah–”

“No, don’t,” Leah’s voice wavered, her eyes burning with fury, “If you’re going to tell me to calm down then I don’t want to fucking hear it,” She turned on Jordan, her whole body trembling.

“I wasn’t going to,” Jordan murmured, exhaling a sigh and without hesitation, pulled Leah into a hug.

And just like that, Leah broke. The anger, the fear, the helplessness–it all came crashing down at once, and before she could stop it, she was sobbing into Jordan’s shoulder.

Jordan didn’t say anything. She just held on, letting Leah get it all out.

“I swear to God, if I ever see him again, I won’t be able to stop myself,” Leah whispered, her voice shaking, “I’ll fucking kill him, Jordan. He hurt her. He hurt our Monkey. And she was too scared to tell anyone about it. I knew it was bad… but fuck, I didn’t know it was this bad!”

Leah’s breath hitched, the anger cracking into something else–something raw and broken. She ran a shaky hand through her hair, blinking back the tears that blurred her vision.

“She’s here now,” Jordan told her, squeezing Leah a bit tighter, “With us. And she’s not going back.”

Leah nodded sharply, exhaling through gritted teeth, “I need to make the call to social services. I need to tell them that she is here.”

Jordan hesitated for a moment, “If you think that is the right thing to do.”

“As much as I don’t want to, I have to,” Leah muttered, voice thick with emotion, “I have to play by their rules.”

Jordan sighed, rubbing a hand over her face, “At least make the call when Monkey is settled and in bed. She’s been through enough today.”

Before Leah could respond, the door behind her cracked open.

You stood there, small and hesitant, wrapped in the warmth of the pyjamas and fluffy socks that Leah had brought you earlier in the week. They were slightly too big, but that only made them cosier.

Jordan’s face softened instantly, “Hey, speak of the devil. How’re you doing, little one?”

You hesitated, “Were you… Were you guys talking about me?”

Leah forced a small smile, crouching down to your level, “We’re just concerned about you, my girl. We’re going to do everything we can to make sure you’re safe.”

Your eyes darted between them, uncertainty clouding your expression, “I… I don’t want to go back there.”

“No, no,” Leah’s stomach twisted as she reached out, brushing a hand over your arm, “Not if I can help it.”

Tears welled in your eyes, “H… He scares me, Le.”

Leah’s heart ached at the broken whisper. She cupped your cheek gently, “I know, my girl. I know you are. But I’m going to do my very best to make sure that doesn’t happen, alright?”

“O… Okay,” You hesitated, giving a tiny nod.

“Right then,” Jordan sensed the shift in mood and clapped her hands together with a grin, “I know for a fact there’s a hot chocolate downstairs with your name on it.”

The change in your expression was instant. The tension in your shoulders eased slightly, and for the first time in what felt like forever, there was a genuine flicker of happiness in your eyes.

“Wow. That looks great, Monkey!” Amanda praised, smiling warmly at you as she admired the LEGO set you had just finished assembling.

“T… Thanks,” You stuttered, your fingers fidgeting slightly with one of the pieces, “Can I build another set?”

“Yeah, we should!” Jacob chipped in eagerly, already reaching for another box.

Leah glanced at the clock, her expression shifting slightly. It was only 8:30 pm. Tomorrow was going to be long enough without you staying up for longer.

“It’s getting a bit late now. Let’s put it aside for now and you can continue it tomorrow, can’t you?” Leah suggested, bracing herself for the inevitable protest.

“Nooo,” You whined, shaking your head stubbornly. Your grip on the LEGO tightened.

“Mhm, I think so. Judging by the tiredness in your eyes and the whining, it might be bedtime, hm?” Leah teased, arching a brow.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “N… No, not yet! I’m still buildin’ LEGO, Le!”

Leah didn’t waver, pursing her lips, “And it’ll still be there for you tomorrow. It’s not going anywhere.”

You pretended to ignore her, prying open another set, hands moving faster.

“Monkey,” Leah gave you a warning look.

“It won’t take long to do!” You insisted, ignoring her gaze and emptying the contents of the LEGO on the carpet.

Leah exhaled a sigh, shaking her head, “Er no, I don’t think so madam,” Gently attempting to retrieve the LEGO set out of your hands, “I’ve already said no.”

You glared at her, hugging the LEGO set to your chest like it was a lifeline, “You’re being mean!”

“That’s okay to think that,” Leah replied, keeping her voice calm, “But it’s been a very long day. I know you’re tired now, aren’t you?”

“Give it back!” You whined, your voice growing sharper as you snatched the LEGO back from Leah.

Leah sucked in a surprise breath. That was new.

“Monkey,” Leah said firmly, shocked where this sudden misbehaviour had come from, “You don’t snatch. I’ve already said no, three times now. It’s bedtime.”

Your heart pounded. Bedtime meant quiet, and quiet meant your thoughts creeping in. The darkness, the loneliness–it was too much.

You shook your head quickly, refusing to let go of the LEGO set. You went as far as to rip open one of the packets, sending the small bricks spilling onto the floor.

“Hey, little one,” Jordan stepped in with a gentle but firm look, “I think it would be a good idea if we listened and put the LEGO away for tonight, yeah?”

“Don’t wanna,” You murmured, tearing into the next packet as though the plastic was a distraction from the lump in your throat, “I don’t need to go to bed.”

Leah exhaled a sigh, wordlessly collecting the spilled pieces from the carpet.

“Leah!” You turned and shot her a glare, “I was building that!” You shouted, voice shaking more than you wanted it to.

“And I’ve already told you–not tonight,” Leah said, still gentle but unwavering as she placed the LEGO out of reach, “I think you need to start using your listening ears, my girl.”

“No, I don’t want to go to bed. I want to build more LEGO!” Your voice rose in panic as you threw yourself onto the floor.

Leah didn’t bat an eyelid. She was more prepared for the emotional outburst while Jordan and Amanda exchanged shocked glances, and Jacob sat frozen, confused.

“It’s bedtime, Monkey,” Leah repeated, watching as she watched you have a complete meltdown in the space of less than five minutes.

“Sweetheart,” Amanda tried a more gentle approach, “I know today’s been a lot. I think getting a good night’s sleep might help, don’t you?” She tried her luck to get you to listen.

“No! I don’t wanna go to bed,” You mumbled, barely glancing in Amanda’s direction, “I don’t want to!”

Leah rubbed her temples, this was completely different to how it had been earlier on. The exhaustion of the day was catching up to all of them, but especially you, “Right, come on, enough of this. Bed, now.”

“I don’t wanna,” You whined, not making any attempt to get up from the floor.

Leah sighed, but this time, she softened slightly, crouching down next to you, “Monkey, listen to me.”

You turned away, arms crossed, “I… I’m not going! You can’t make me!”

“I know bedtime might feel a bit scary tonight,” Leah murmured, rubbing your back for a moment before gently taking your hand, “But you’re safe now. You’re not alone. I’ll be right there, okay?”

“No!” You screamed.

Leah didn’t hesitate, “Alright, that’s enough,” She murmured, scooping you up off the floor in one swift motion, “Bedtime, now.”

You let out a yelp of surprise, “B… But Le–”

“No buts,” Leah’s voice was firm, her grip secure as she held you against her hip, “It’s clear that you’re tired, I’m not going to stand here and argue with you about this now, so come on.”

Your pre-teenage attitude was nothing Leah or Jordan were prepared for, in comparison to the 360 mood change.

Your body tensed, but the warmth of being held was grounding. Your limbs twitched in weak protest but ultimately sagging against her.

Leah adjusted you in her arms, rubbing soothing circles into your back, “Come on, now. Let’s say goodnight.”

You huffed, glancing at Jordan, “Night, Jordy.”

“Night, little one,” Jordan smiled softly, ruffling your hair.

You turned to glance in Amanda’s direction, “Night, ‘Manda.”

“Night, sweetheart. Sleep well,” Amanda said kindly.

“Goodnight, Monkey!” Jacob grinned, peering up from his phone.

“Night, J,” You grumbled, slumping your shoulders. Then, desperate for another delay, you blurted, “Wait! I need to say goodnight to Bella!”

Jordan chuckled in amusement, “Pretty sure she’ll follow you up.”

“I’m thirsty,” You tried next.

“Oh, how convenient,” Jordan teased, rolling her eyes, “I’ll bring one up to you in bed.”

“Hello! I’m home!” David called as he stepped inside the house.

Your eyes lit up. A perfect distraction, “David’s home!”

“Oh, I thought I heard your voice,” The older man smiled, stepping into the room, “Well, this is a nice surprise having you here. Are you here for the night?”

“I’m just trying to get her up to bed but it’s proving difficult,” Leah said, shifting her grip on you as she shared a playful knowing look with David, “Maybe you’d have better luck?”

“You heard Le, time for bed champ,” David ruffled your hair, gesturing in the direction of the stairs.

Your face scrunched in defeat, “Fine.”

Leah hid a smile, carrying you up the stairs to stop you from making an escape, “I’ll be back down once she’s settled.”

“You sound very grown up,” Jacob snickered.

Leah huffed, rolling her eyes, “Shut it, you.”

“Do I even want to ask what that was about?” David chuckled, amusedly, glancing at Amanda.

“Probably not, no,” Amanda responded.

“Sounds like Leah has her work cut out for her tonight,” David noted.

“Teenagers,” Jacob quipped.

“Speak for yourself,” Jordan laughed as she got up off the sofa to go make you a glass of water per your request.

“That’s not the way to the bathroom, last time I checked,” Leah noted with a raised eyebrow. She’s placed you back down on the floor once she was sure you wouldn’t try to make a break for it.

You ignored her completely, your focus snapping to something familiar on the bed. A rush of relief flooded through you as you darted into your temporary bedroom, eyes wide with excitement, “My monkey!” You gasped, snatching up the stuffed toy you thought you’d lost forever.

Leah’s stern expression softened, her arms crossing loosely over her chest as she leaned against the doorframe, “I thought you’d miss it.”

“You found it! I thought… I thought I lost it!” You clutched the plush close to your chest, the comfort of it grounding you in a way you desperately needed.

“Jacob found it on the stairs the night you left. I kept it here safe for you,” Leah explained gently.

You squeezed your stuffed toy tighter, the overwhelming emotions making your throat tighten, “I’ve missed him.”

Leah smiled faintly, “I know.”

But she didn’t give you too much time to get lost in your thoughts, “Right, come on you. Bathroom–go brush your teeth. I want to see those pearly whites,” She instructed, nudging you lightly toward the hallway.

You groaned, dragging your feet, “Pearly whites?”

“It’s just another phrase for teeth,” Leah clarified, walking beside you to make sure you actually follow through.

You begrudgingly brushed your teeth, only because Leah was watching you like a hawk the entire time. When you finished, you hesitantly turned to face her.

“Let’s have a look–” Leah leaned forward dramatically, inspecting your mouth with exaggerated scrutiny, “Ooo, they’re lovely and shiny.”

You rolled your eyes but giggled despite yourself, “You’re silly.”

“It’s the best way to be,” Leah smirked, following as you wandered back into the bedroom. She pulled back the duvet, patting the mattress, “Right, into bed.”

You didn’t hesitate to crawl under the covers, still clutching your stuffed animal, “I’m not tired.”

Leah gave you a knowing look, “I think we both know that’s not true.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, “It’s too early to go to sleep.”

“It might be usually, but you’ve had such a long day, and tomorrow is going to be just as busy,” Leah reasoned, keeping her tone of voice soft but firm, “I just want to make sure you’ve had enough rest.”

You frowned, “J’s still awake, though.”

“Well, J is a little bit older than you, isn’t he?” Leah reminded you.

“Not fair–” You shifted restlessly, then suddenly sat up, “I’m hungry! Can I have a biscuit?”

Leah exhaled a sigh, “You’ve already eaten dinner, and you had pudding as well. And chocolate. I think if you have any more, you’re going to end up with a bit of a tummy ache, won’t you?”

You pouted, “Please, Le?”

“No, Monkey,” Leah remained firm on her decision, “Come on now, it’s time to sleep.”

You flopped back onto the pillow with a dramatic groan, “How can I sleep if I’m not tired?”

“You have to close your eyes and try,” Leah smirked, tucking you in, “Now, any more questions?”

Silence lingered for a moment before you blurted out your next question, “How much do sharks weigh?”

Leah blinked at the sudden change of topic, “I… I don’t know.”

“That’s no good,” You let out an exaggerated sigh, “I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

Leah snorted, shaking her head, “I am smart, Monkey. But I don’t just have random shark facts stored in my brain.”

You frowned, “Well, Google it, then. Duh.”

Leah shot you a pointed look just as Jordan appeared in the doorway, holding a glass of water.

“Still fighting the bedtime battle?” Jordan teased, handing the glass over.

“Just a bit,” Leah deadpanned before turning back to you. She arched an eyebrow, “Alright, little miss attitude, why don’t you tell me the real reason you don’t want to sleep, hm?”

You hesitated, fiddling with the hem of the duvet, “I… I’m just not tired,” You muttered.

Jordan lingered for a moment, watching the exchange before giving Leah a knowing look. She knew you’d settle faster with just one person in the room, “I’ll leave you to it,” She murmured before quietly slipping out, pulling the door ajar behind her.

Leah waited until she was gone before lowering herself onto the edge of the bed, “Come on, Monkey. This is me you’re talking to. What’s really going on?”

Your throat tightened as you clutched your stuffed animal closer, “I… I don’t want to sleep. What if… I… I…” You struggled to get the words out.

Leah’s expression softened, “You can do it, my girl. Tell me how you’re feeling. I’m listening to you.”

“I… I don’t want you to leave me,” You said, tears pricking at your eyes.

“I’m right here, my girl,” Leah’s heart clenched, “I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to be scared about that.”

“You promise?” You asked, holding out your pinky finger.

Leah wrapped her own pinky around yours, “I promise, Monkey. You’re staying here with me, I’m going to make sure of it this time,” She told you, “I love you so much, my girl.”

Your lips wobbled slightly before you whispered, “I love you too, Le.”

Leah smiled, leaning forward and running a hand through your hair, “I don’t want you to go through any more hurt or pain, and I’m going to fight to protect you. I messed up before, but I won’t let it happen this time.”

Without any hesitation, you leaned forward and threw your arms around her, “I was… I was so scared. I thought he would find me before you both arrived. I didn’t… I didn’t want him to find me.”

“I know you were,” Leah murmured, gently continuing to run her hands through your hair as she held you close, “But you’re safe now. You’re with us, and nothing is going to hurt you anymore. We’ll always keep you safe, I promise.”

You buried your face into her chest, feeling the warmth of her embrace wrapping around you like a shield, “I… I didn’t want him to hurt me. I thought he… I thought he would, Le,” Tears begin to flow, a flood of emotions finally pouring out all at once, “I don’t want to go back there–I don’t want to!”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re here now, you’re here with us, and I won’t ever let him hurt you again. Okay?” Leah fought to push down her own anger, focusing instead on comforting you as she held you tight, letting you cry in her arms.

You sniffled, still not fully able to shake the fear that had gripped you, but slowly, you relaxed yourself into her arms.

Leah gently wiped away a tear from your cheek, her heart aching at the vulnerability you were showing. She held you tighter for a moment, feeling her protectiveness instincts surge as she kissed the top of your head, “I won’t let him hurt you again, I promise. No one is ever going to hurt you again,” She whispered, her voice low and soothing.

Eventually, after a few minutes, Leah pulled back just enough to look at your face, “You’re so strong, Monkey,” She said softly, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead, “And I’m so proud of you. You know that?”

You looked up at her, your eyes wide and vulnerable. You didn’t have the words, but you nodded slowly, feeling comforted by the tenderness in her eyes.

With a final reassuring squeeze, Leah helped you settle back onto your pillows, smoothing the covers around you, “I’ll stay right here until you fall asleep, okay?” She said, her voice a gentle murmur as she tucked you in snugly, “Do you want me to read you a story?” She teased.

And to Leah’s surprise, you nodded, “I want that book,” You mumbled tiredly, pointing to the familiar book cover of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone resting on the nightstand.

Leah grinned, picking up the book and flipping it open to the first page, "Mr and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much,” She began, glancing down at you with a mischievous smile, “I don’t know about that now, do you?” She joked, her playful manner still in her voice.

You were too tired to respond, but you listened to the rhythm of her voice, the warmth of it enough to make you feel safe as your eyelids began to flutter shut.

Leah, absorbed in the book, glanced down at you and noticed your half-asleep state, “I think that’s enough reading for tonight," She murmured with a soft smile, gently closing the book and careful not to disturb the peace of the room, “Sweet dreams, my girl.” She whispered, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head.

“Night, Le,” You mumbled, your eyes barely open as you clutched your stuffed Monkey tightly in your arms, “Love you.”

“I love you too, Monkey,” Leah smiled softly, standing up from the bed, ready to turn off the bedside light.

“No, don’t,” You panicked slightly, your voice small, “Can you… Can you leave it on, please?”

“Of course,” Leah replied with a warm nod, her heart softening at the request. She left the room quietly, pulling the door ajar just enough so she could hear if you woke up and needed her. She lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching over you until you fell asleep.

You were safe. You were home.

“She’s finally asleep,” Leah murmured as she walked back into the living room, exhaustion evident in her posture as she flopped down on the sofa beside Jordan, “I wasn’t prepared for that battle tonight.”

“You handled it well, Bubba,” Amanda reassured her with a soft smile, “I was just filling your dad in on everything that happened today.”

David hummed in disapproval, “She went off to sleep okay?”

Leah nodded as she took a seat, her eyes softening as she thought about the moment she’s just shared with you, “Yeah, she’s asleep now. Took a little while, but she’s settled now.”

Jordan glanced up from where she was sitting, a warm, knowing smile on her face, “It’s good that she’s getting some rest. It’s been a long day.

David let out a low sigh, still not entirely convinced about the situation, “I just don’t like how all of this is affecting her. It’s not right, Leah.”

Leah met his gaze, her expression firm but compassionate, “I know, I don’t like it either but I’m going to do everything I can in my power to make sure she’s safe. I’m not going to fail this time.”

Jacob looked up from his phone briefly, his casual demeanor replaced by something more serious, “I’m glad she’s got you both. It sucks what she’s been throgh,” He paused for a moment before his eyes shifted back to the screen, “But is she… okay?”

Leah exhaled softly, a slight frown tugging at her lips, “She will be. It’s just going to take a bit of time. But we’ll help her get there, one step at a time.”

“We’re here to support you, Bubba,” Amanda gave Leah a reassuring glance, “You’re not going to be alone in this. She’s got a solid support system. That counts for something.”

Leah smiled faintly, looking down at her hands for a moment, “Yeah…I just want to protect her from everything that’s happened. All of it,” Her voice softened with the weight of her words, “I won’t let anyone hurt my kid again.”

“I know you won’t,” David’s expression softened a little, though still edged with concern.

“Do you think the hot chocolate helped?” Amanda joked, shifting to keep the atmosphere in the room light with a playful smile.

“It might’ve done the trick,” Leah said with a tired grin.

“Not as good as mine, I bet,” David said with a knowing look.

Amanda shot him a playful glance, “I tried my best.”

“Did you find out what that meltdown was all about earlier?” Jordan asked, curiously.

Leah exhaled a sigh, running her hand through her hair, “Yeah… she didn’t want to sleep, because she was afraid that I would leave her. She thought that tomorrow morning she’ll have to go back to her dad’s house.”

“I see,” Jordan replied, exhaling a matching sigh, “She’s a good kid, ain’t she? She doesn’t deserve any of this.”

“That scumbag never deserved her,” Leah spat, her anger resurfacing now that you were asleep, and she didn’t have to hold back.

Amanda placed a calming hand on Leah’s arm, “Bubba, I know you’re angry, but lashing out isn’t going to help.”

“Your mum’s right, sweetheart,” David added gently.

Amanda gave her a sad smile, “We need to think about what happens next, don’t we?”

Leah nodded, her thoughts already shifting to the practical next steps, “I know. I need to call Monkey’s social worker,” She mumbled, not exactly thrilled to have that conversation, but it was necessary.

It was now or never.

Leah dialed the number, her fingers hovering nervously over the screen before she placed the call, “Hello, this is Leah Williamson. I need to talk to a social worker about an ongoing case.”

“Is Monkey going to live with us now?” Jacob piped in, his voice tinged with curiosity.

“We don’t know that yet, son,” David replied with a heavy sigh, trying to follow Leah’s conversation as she explained the situation briefly.

When Leah hung up, she exhaled in relief, setting her phone down on the sofa, “They’re sending someone round tomorrow afternoon to talk to us.”

Jordan nodded, rubbing a hand over her face, “Alright. That’s good.”

Leah’s expression darkened again, “She doesn’t have anything here. Other than her pyjamas which I brought her, and her football kit, she doesn’t have clothes–nothing.”

“She didn’t have a bag with her?” David asked, frowning.

“No, she came here with clothes on her back,” Leah replied, “She’s going to need more. She needs… just– she needs stuff. Jord, go to Tesco. Grab what you can. Anything she might need.”

Jordan blinked in surprise, “Uh–what stuff?”

Leah huffed, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration, “Clothes, Jord. Pyjamas. Socks. Toothbrush. Just… I don’t know. Whatever she needs. Just get it.”

Jordan shifted awkwardly, “What size is she?”

Leah groaned, rubbing her temples, “I don’t fucking know–just guess, Jord. Use your common sense!”

“Leah!” Amanda snapped, her voice sharp, “We know you’re frustrated, but don’t swear at Jordan. We have raised you better than that.”

“I… I’m sorry,” Leah quickly apologised, her anger deflating with the reprimand.

“You need to take a minute to calm down,” Amanda told her firmly, standing up and grabbing her car keys, “Look, Jord and I will go to Tesco now and grab some essentials for her. You stay here, in case Monkey needs you, okay?”

Leah nodded, finally taking a deep breath as her frustration gave way to exhaustion, “Thanks, Mum.”

“I’m coming!” Jacob insisted, wasting no time to grab his trainers, “She needs snacks. Food always helps when you’re feeling sad, don’t it?”

Amanda chuckled, nodding in agreement, “You’re right there, son. Come on then.”

“I know you’re frustrated, sweetheart, but you have to stay calm,” David told her as the two of them sat alone in the room, “You won’t be any good to Monkey if you’re letting your anger get the best of you.”

“I know, Dad. I just… I don’t want to let her down. I can’t let it happen. Not again,” Leah’s voice trembled with emotion.

David nodding in understanding, reaching forward to squeeze Leah’s knee in reassurance, “Just… don’t burn yourself out trying to fix it all at once.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Leah met his gaze, a small but grateful smile playing on her lips, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“This will be worth it in the end,” He added with a teasing grin, “Mind you, I never imagined your mum and I would become grandparents so young.”

“Le?” Jordan shifted, waking up to find Leah awake, “How long have you been–”

“Can you hear that?” Leah cut her off, gesturing to the faint nose in the background, “It sounds like…” Her words were cut short by a blood-curdling scream that shattered the night.

Leah’s heart stopped for a moment before it began racing in her chest. She shot up in bed, the panic rising in her throat, her instincts already pulling her towards the door. Jordan, Amanda and David were right behind her.

“Monkey!” Leah yelled, as she hurried into the hallway, her feet pounding against the wooden floor.

Jacob appeared out of his bedroom, half-asleep, he looked confused, “What’s that noise?”

David placed his hand on Jacob’s shoulder, “I think Monkey had a nightmare. You should go back to sleep, it’s late and you have school tomorrow,” He told him with a knowing look, “Your sister has it under control.”

Leah burst into the room, her eyes immediately finding you thrashing under the duvet, your cries raw and panicked as you gasped for breath between sobs. Your arms flailed, hands twisting into fists as you kicked at the sheets, trying to escape something only you could see.

“Monkey! Monkey, it’s okay! You’re safe,” Leah’s voice was firm but gentle as she reached for you, but the moment her fingers brushed against your arm, you recoiled violently, another piercing scream ripping from your throat.

Jordan winced at the sound, glancing at Amanda with wide, uncertain eyes, “She’s not awake.”

“Shh, sweetheart, we’re here,” Amanda’s voice was soothing as she flicked on the lamp, casting a warm glow over the room.

Your chest heaved, breaths coming too fast, too shallow. You didn’t like the light. It was too bright, too sudden. You curled in on yourself, hands flying to your ears as a whimper escaped your lips. The noise, the movement–it was all too much.

Leah crouched beside you, hands resting on her knee and making sure she wasn’t too close, “Monkey, it’s me. It’s Le,” She said softly, “You’re safe. You’re at home, my girl.”

At the sound of her voice, your head jerked up, eyes wild and unfocused, “He… He was–” You breath hitched as your face crumpled.

“I know, my girl,” Leah’s heart clenched, nodding slowly, “But he’s not here. I promise, you’re safe.”

You let out a broken sob, still trembling, your whole body buzzing with restless energy. Leah hesitated only for a moment before reaching forward again. Only this time you didn’t flinch away when she gently wrapped her arms around you, pulling you against her chest.

“I… It was real–It felt so real,” You whimpered, clutching at her like she might disappear.

“You’re okay,” Leah murmured, rocking you slightly, “Breath with me, yeah? In… and out…”

You tried, but your breaths were still shallow, your body still twitching like you needed to move–like you couldn’t stop moving. Leah ran a hand up and down your back, grounding you.

“Feel my breathing, Monkey. Can you match mine?” Leah encouraged.

Slowly, you did. Your fingers fidgeted with the hem of Leah’s shirt as your gasps evened out, your body sagging against her as exhaustion started creeping back in.

“I’m sleepy,” You mumbled, voice thick with tears.

Leah nodded, adjusting you slightly so you were more comfortable, “I know, Monkey. I’ve got you.”

She felt it immediately–the dampness seeping through your pyjamas.

Your whole body tensed as you realised what had happened.

“I… I didn’t mean to… I–” Your voice came out small, barely above a whisper.

Leah didn’t let you finish, “It’s okay,” She said simply, squeezing you a little tighter, “You got scared, that’s all. It’s not a big deal, I promise.”

But you wouldn’t meet her eyes, curling in on yourself.

“I didn’t even feel it,” You mumbled.

“I know, my girl,” Leah soothed, “That happens sometimes when you have a really bad nightmare. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Amanda, still standing in the doorway, gave Leah a soft nod and quietly went to grab clean sheets. Jordan followed, muttering something about getting you some water.

“Come on,” Leah coaxed gently, “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

You hesitated, but when Leah stood and offered her hand, you took it. She helped you into the bathroom, running warm water and handing you a fresh pair of pyjamas from the improvised late night Tesco shopping trip that Jordan, Amanda and Jacob went way too overboard on clothes and toys.

Leah never rushed you, she didn’t make a big deal out of it, but instead she just talked to you softly about Coco Pops and the cartoons you could watch in the morning.

Your fear returned when it was time to return to your bedroom. The thought of being alone again sent a shiver down your spine. You clung to Leah’s arm, trembling as you shook your head, tears still clinging to your lashes, “I… I don’t want to go back. Please don’t make me.”

Leah’s heart twisted at the sight of you, “You’re okay, my girl. You can go back to bed, it’s safe now.”

You didn’t budge, you shook your head, your body trembling with exhaustion and fear, “N… No. Please… Please don’t leave me,” The words were barely above a whisper, desperate. Your lip wobbled as fresh tears welled in your eyes.

Leah crouched down, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face, “Hey, you’re not alone. I’m right here, I promise,” She murmured, her voice thick with emotion, “I tell you what–tonight, you can sleep with me and Jordy tonight, just for tonight, okay?” Ultimately she would have preferred for you to go back to sleep in your bed, but she could tell how shook up you still were, and making sure you were okay was the priority right now.

You nodded quickly, your whole body sagging with relief. You felt safe, finally. You didn’t care that you were 12 or that this was probably a little silly–right now, all you wanted was to feel loved, protected, and not alone.

Leah gave you a gentle time as she helped you into bed, “We have a guest joining us tonight,” She said to Jordan, glancing up at her as she settled beside you.

Jordan’s eyes softened, a fond smile tugging at her lips as she watched you curl up close to Leah, “I see that,” She replied, her voice warm, “Hi, little one.”

Your thumb found its way to your mouth instinctively. Your fingers trembling as you sucked it in, a habit you hadn’t relied on in a long time, but right now, it brought a sense of comfort that nothing else could.

Leah’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close against her chest, “You’re safe with us, Monkey. I’ve got you, my girl. You can close your eyes and sleep now,” She said, her fingers stroking your hair.

“M’ sleepy,” You mumbled, your eyes fluttered closed, the warmth of Leah’s embrace making you feel like everything would be okay, even if just for tonight.

The rhythmic beat of Leah’s heart and the steady sound of Jordan’s breathing surrounded you like a cocoon, and eventually, you drifted off to sleep, wrapped in the safety of their arms.

“Le, can I… I have cereal for breakfast?” You asked, excitedly as you bounded into the kitchen still dressed in your pajamas, your hair wild like a lion’s mane, “You promised I could!”

“Of course you can, Monkey. You can have anything that you want,” Leah replied, the tiredness evident in her own voice.

Your eyes lit up, “Even Coco pops?”

Leah smiled and nodded, “Even Coco pops.”

“Yeah!” You exclaimed, bouncing on your toes.

Despite the nightmare from the night before, you were up and ready at 7 am, wide awake. Leah, reluctantly getting up with you, switched on the TV for morning cartoons while she made you the promised bowl of Coco Pops.

You sat on the spinny chair in the kitchen, pushing it back and forth, spinning in circles, “Why did Jordy stay in bed? She’s missing out on Spongebob!” You giggled, pointing at the screen.

“I’m not missing out, I’m just avoiding the early morning Spongebob chaos,” Jordan appeared in the doorway, her voice groggy but playful, “Besides, if I have to listen to Spongebob’s laugh one more time before coffee, I might just turn into Plankton.”

Leah chuckled softly, shaking her head at Jordan’s antics, “Jordy isn’t much of a fan of early mornings,” She explained, “Do you want a bit of milk or a lot of milk?”

“Hm, not too much. It’ll make the cereal yucky!” You scrunched your face in mock disgust as you inspected the milk bottle.

It was remarkable to see how quickly your joy had returned, despite the nightmare that had shaken you both in the middle of the night. Leah had hardly slept, and neither had you. Your scream had woken up the entire house, sending everyone into a flurry of concern, but now, here you were, laughing over breakfast.

Leah sat at the kitchen table, fingers tapping anxiously against the wood. Jordan was across from her, just as tense but they both kept a brave face for you as you sat opposite them, oblivious and munching on your breakfast.

You stared at your bowl, then looked at them, your thoughts turning inward. You knew it was Monday. On Mondays, you always went to school. So why weren’t you today?

“So, Monkey,” Leah began the difficult conversation, keeping her voice soft, “Today, someone is going to come round from social services to talk to us–well, to you.”

“Why?” You asked, your stomach dropping at the unfamiliarity of the situation.

“Because it’s important that it happens I’m afraid,” Leah replied softly, but there was something about the way she said it that made you feel uneasy.

Your eyes widened in fear, instant panic taking over your face, “No, no… They’re just going to send me back to my dad's!”

“They’re not. I won’t let them, okay?” Leah shook her head quickly, her voice firm but gentle, “Not this time. We’ll talk to them, we’ll explain everything that happened, okay? There’s no need to be scared.”

“O… Okay,” You whispered, the fear still gripping your chest.

You really didn’t understand, but you didn’t want to ask again. You hated it when people didn’t answer your questions the way you wanted them to. It felt… off. You didn’t know why, but it made your stomach twist in a way you didn’t like.

“Eat your breakfast before it goes cold, little one,” Jordan encouraged, trying to lift your spirits.

You giggled, poking your spoon around in your bowl, “It’s cereal, Jordy. It’s already cold.”

“Of course, silly me,” Jordan smiled at you, her voice light, trying to coax a smile from you.

Leah shook her head with a fond smile, “What’s she like, eh?”

“Silly!” You said, a genuine smile spreading across your face as you took another spoonful of your cereal.

By the time lunch had rolled around, the house was filled with the sounds of laughter and light-hearted jokes. You were sitting on the floor in the living room, building your Lego set, your fingers moving quickly as you pieced together a colourful castle. Leah and Jordan were sitting nearby, Leah with her phone, and Jordan struggling to assemble a poorly designed tower that kept collapsing.

“Jordy, that’s not how you build it!” You giggled, pointing at the mess she was creating, “It’s all wrong! The pieces don’t go like that!”

Jordan pouted, clearly amused by her own failure, “Oh, really? I thought it was a… modern abstract tower, that’s all.”

“Nooo, it’s awful!” You told her, grinning as she made an exaggerated face of frustration, “You have to build it properly!”

Leah laughed softly at the two of you, shaking her head, “You two are something else.”

You giggled mischievously in response, feeling more comfortable with them than you had in so long.

But as you clicked the last piece into place on your Lego creation, a sharp knock on the door interrupted the moment.

Leah stood quietly, her mood shifting as she turned towards the door, “Stay here,” She said, her voice gentle but firm, “I’ll go let them in. It’s going to be fine, yeah?”

You nodded, clutching the Lego piece in your hand, feeling a nervous flutter in your chest, “I’m scared, Jordy,” You turned to look at Jordan for her help.

“Hey,” Jordan shifted to move closer and wrap a protective arm around you, “You don’t need to be scared. Leah and I are going to sort this out. We’re not letting you go this time.”

Leah opened the door before the second knock could land, her eyes immediately locking with the woman standing there. The woman was in her mid-thirties, with an expression that was professional but kind.

“Miss Williamson?” She asked.

Leah’s grip tightened on the doorframe, “Yes.”

“My name is Hannah, and I’m from social services,” The lady introduced herself, showing proof of her ID card.

Leah’s jaw tightened, unfamiliar with this lady, “You’re not Monkey’s… I mean, you’re not the one I spoke to before at social services?”

“I’m afraid her case has been reassigned to me,” Hannah explained, her voice steady but with a trace of sympathy.

Leah stepped aside, her eyes momentarily narrowing with a mix of frustration and concern, “Right. Come in,“ She said, ushering the woman inside, “Monkey is in the living room with my partner.”

The moment the door closed behind them, you stiffened, instinctively shrinking back into your seat on the floor, your eyes darting between the unfamiliar woman and the safety of the room.

“Monkey?” Leah approached you with a cautious look, “This is Hannah. She’s from Social Services, and she’d like to talk to you. Think you can do that?”

You froze, feeling a lump in your throat. You didn’t want to talk to her. Didn’t even want to look at her.

“Hi, Monkey,” Hannah greeted you, though you could hear the professionalism still, “I’m Hannah. It’s nice to meet you.”

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. Instead, you focused on your Lego, avoiding eye contact, desperately trying to make yourself small, to disappear into the safety of the pieces in your hand.

“I understand that you stayed here with Miss Williamson and her partner last night, is that right?”

“Her name’s Leah, not Miss Williamson,” You mumbled, your voice barely audible.

“Right, of course. You stayed here last night with Leah, and her partner,” Hannah corrected herself, glancing in Jordan’s direction.

“Jordan,” Jordan answered curtly.

Hannah nodded, making a note of it on her clipboard, “So, you stayed here last night. Can you tell me what happened before that?”

You tensed, shrugging your shoulders and uninterested in talking. Your fingers trembled as they fiddled with a piece of Lego, keeping your eyes downcast. You couldn’t bring yourself to speak–not now. Instead, you scrambled up off the floor and reluctantly glued yourself to Leah, pushing to sit directly in her lap as she wrapped her arms around you protectively.

She wouldn’t force you to talk, not if you weren’t ready.

Jordan noticed your withdrawal and sat up from where she was sitting on the carpet originally beside you to move to sit on the sofa beside you and Leah, “Maybe it would be better if one of us spoke about it?” She suggested, offering you a silent but supportive glance.

Hannah nodded, understanding the hesitation, “That’s perfectly fine,” She agreed, her gaze flicking from you to Leah.

Leah inhaled sharply, her voice steady but filled with an intensity that you hadn’t seen before, “I got the phone call from Monkey last night. She was in distress and needed our help. We found her hiding out on the street, terrified and cold. She didn’t want to go back to her dad. Mark. He’s… He’s been hurting her,” She paused, the words heavy, but she didn’t look away, “I tried to talk to her old social worker, and every time, I was brushed off. And now look what’s happened. I’m not letting her go back to him. That’s not an option.”

Hannah regarded her carefully, her face softening with empathy, though her eyes still remained sharp, “Leah, I understand that you’re worried, but–”

“No, you don’t understand,” Leah’s voice cut through, unwavering, “I’m not letting her go back. She’s staying here. With me. With us.”

“Leah,” Hannah’s eyes softened as she took a slow breath, her clipboard held tightly in her hands, “Legally, there’s a process we have to follow.”

“Then follow it. But you’re not taking her away from me,” Leah responded firmly, her posture rigid as she pulled out her phone, “I’ve got proof. I’ve got everything–pictures, recordings. You need to see what happened. The bruises, the fear in her eyes, the way she recoils at the mention of his name–And last night, she had a nightmare. She was screaming blue murder. I had to get up with her in the middle of the night because she was terrified. She had an accident because she was so fearful. She was shaking when I finally got her back to sleep.”

Hannah’s face paled as she watched the footage, looked at the pictures of the bruises, the evidence unmistakable. Her lips parted, but she didn’t speak right away. Instead, she took a moment, her fingers gripping the clipboard harder.

“I’ll be escalating this immediately,” Hannah murmured, her voice low and serious, “This isn’t something that can just be swept aside.”

Leah exhaled sharply, but relief was short-lived. Hannah wasn’t done yet.

“There will need to be a court process,” She continued, “For now, we can arrange for emergency placement with you both, but a judge will need to approve the custody arrangement.”

Leah clenched her jaw, her heart racing, “And what happens if he tries to fight it?”

“The court will give him a chance to try and change his ways. But…” Hannah explained, her voice dropping in tone, “I’ve seen cases like this before. With the evidence you’ve shown me… I doubt they’ll risk sending her back.”

Leah’s stomach churned, but she nodded, her body tense, still holding onto the hope that you were safe. That she had done the right thing.

And somehow, for once, the system worked. A court order was pushed through, and Leah and Jordan were granted joint custody. Your dad was given a second chance to change–He had been allowed to have supervised visits.

Leah wasn’t thrilled, but at least this way you were safe with them for now.

As you sat in Leah’s lap, still curled up, she leaned down and kissed the top of your head softly, “You’re here, you’re safe. This is exactly what Jean wanted all along.”

Leah held you a little tighter, her arms a protective shield around you, and the words hung in the air for a long moment. Jean had always wished for Leah to have custody of you, to keep you safe from your dad.

Now, it was finally happening. For the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to relax, the fear in your chest easing as you let yourself believe it.

You were safe. You were home.

#woso x reader #scribblesofagoonerr #monkey #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso one shot #leah williamson x reader #jordan nobbs x reader

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quokkicidal · 3 days ago

Text

How you match with skz…

Genre: Fluff, Imagine

Warnings: Reader is implied afab in Jisungs

Summary: Your matching things w/ skz!

Requests open

Masterlist

.•♫•♬• . •♬•♫•. .•♫•♬• . •♬•♫•. .•♫•♬• . •♬•♫•. .

Chan:

Matching hoodies. Chan and his hoodies, but wait, what if you had one. No need to imagine because he already bought you a matching one. if he shows you one he likes, he asks if you want one, and of course you say yes. He gets so giddy when you say yes and buys them right away. When they arrive, he washes them and stands by the dryer so they’re still nice and warm when he takes them out. Literally is so sweet and hugs you after you put it on.

Minho:

Matching cat beanies. This man loves his cats the way fish love water, so of course you’re getting matching cat beanies. Before he buys them he sends you a picture. “Do you want to be the orange cat or the black cat?” Which ever you choose, he’ll get the opposite, so you’re more of a pair than fully matching. Although, his cats don’t seem to like it that much. He sends you a video of Dori being scared of him while he has it on.

Changbin:

Matching gym bags. We all know that he loves the gym, and he loves you. So, that concluded in him buying matching gym bags for you guys. Even if you dont go to the gym, he still wants to match. If you don’t go to the gym, of course you’re still gonna use it. You’ll use it when you go on trips for your cloths. But if you don’t go to the gym. He’ll make sure that everyone sees that you have matching bags. “Oh you like my bag, me and my partner have matching ones.” He’s so proud of it. He also makes you do the heart flexing pose, iykyk.

Hyunjin:

Matching necklaces. I believe that Hyunjin is definitely a jewelry giver. Like he will buy you a necklace with a heart on it. Oh and on the back of that heart are his initials because he thinks it’s sweet that wherever you go, he’s with you in some way. Of course your initials are on the back of his for the same reason. Every time he sees you he touches the necklace and turns it around to see his name. When he’s away on tour, he’ll turn his around and kiss where your initials are, subtly hoping that you’ll start thinking of him.

Felix:

Matching socks. This man loves subtle romance, if you can even call matching socks that. He doesn’t buy not one, not two, but probably twelve packs of matching socks. You always tell each other when you’re wearing them so it makes it even more fun. Sometimes he will literally take his shoes off just to show you. On days he wears them, he’ll text you, “Wear the chickens today,” or “the dogs have dogs on them.” When he gets back from tour, you WILL be getting more socks from the places he’s been.

Jisung:

Matching phone cases. It would probably be a clear case, but you guys have matching stickers and Polaroids in them. If he’s ever overseas and needs a little pick me up, he can just look at the picture of you in the back of his phone. Sometimes he’ll even be dramatic to the other members saying, “I MISS MY WIFE!” He acts like you’re away at war or something. The other guys are so used to it by now.

Seungmin:

Matching nothing cuz he doesn’t want to (you guys have matching note books that he picked up in japan). He usually uses his for journaling/song writing, but whenever you have yours out, he’s doodling in it. Sometimes you wonder how some of the drawings got in there cuz you didn’t see him do it. Little do you know, sometimes he takes your journal and draws and leaves little messages so you can see them on a random Tuesday.

Jeongin:

You guys actually have a lot of matching stuff believe it or not. Whenever he buys something he thinks, “Oh Y/N would like this too.” Like that man picks up matching perfumes/colognes, hats, jackets, shoes, you name it. Whenever he posts his ootd on intsa, he makes sure he takes some pictures with you too, that’s why he has a new lock screen almost every week.

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wow-thisismylifeiguess · 1 day ago

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Sentient Gotham

- Bruce regularly chats w her. Like, full blown conversations. He can see a physical manifestation of her like she’s right in front of him, but completely invisible to everyone else

- Zatanna does not believe him. She’s Gotham born and bred and a powerful magician, but she cannot sense a living breathing Gotham the way Bruce claims he can

- Constantine does believe him, but it’s mostly to spite Zatanna

- Gotham calls herself Bruce’s mom and frequently whines about him not calling her that

> “I had a mother. And a father. They’re both dead.” > “WHEN WILL YOU STOP BLAMING ME FOR THAT?!” > “When I’m convinced it’s not true.”

- Bruce’s kids also don’t believe him about the whole ‘I talk to Gotham’ thing for a long time and think he’s either lost his mind, he’s schizophrenic, or that he’s fucking w them

- they do eventually see and speak to her themselves

- Jason first sees her right before his death, which was an incredibly difficult task for her. It’s a combination of reasons. 1) like Bruce, Jason is a Gotham City native and has deep ties to the city, 2) he has deep ties to Bruce, 3) she was also there to comfort Bruce because she knew he wouldn’t be fast enough. But Jason sees this gorgeous woman who cradles his cheek and murmurs soft words to him that he’ll only end up remembering many years later

> “Your father loves you. He tried. So please don’t hate him. It’s my fault, not his.”

- Bruce frequently wonders why it’s him who can see her and no one else, to which she always just says it’s because he’s her son

- Bruce’s connection to Gotham…changes him. He is human, at least…mostly. But there’s an otherworldliness to him that grows over the years which he’s stupidly oblivious to for a very long time

- Gotham has beef w Alfred purely because he’s British

> “I could’ve raised you better than that man!” > “I do not tolerate disrespect for Alfred.” > whining, “But babyyyyyy. He’s an outsider!”

- she adores Bruce’s kids and frequently whines about how they don’t believe she’s real. But at the same time, Bruce is her absolute beloved

- after Jason’s death, she’s the one who basically sends Tim Bruce’s way to stop his self destructive behavior. Tim had been taking pictures of Batman and Robin for a while, but Gotham had fogged over his mind just a little bit to prevent him from putting the pieces together about their identity. When she stops, it finally clicks for Tim and it’s what leads him to becoming Robin

- the kids all have their moment when they finally can see and speak to her. It happens at different times, but the important reason as to why they’re able to do so is due to their relationship to Bruce and the length of time they’ve been around him. It comes at the moment where they’ve reached optimal and absolute trust in Bruce

- Bruce does actually call her ‘mom’, but it happened once and she will never let him forget it

> Bruce getting worked up during a conversation w Gotham in front of Dick and Tim > “Dick….who is he talking to?” > “You don’t want to know.” > “My mom won’t stop badgering me- No. No. I didn’t say that. I didn’t call you that! You can’t prove anything!”

- Gotham comforts Bruce often when he feels like he’s not enough. His failures weigh heavy in his heart, but she’s always there to talk him through it

> “Why me? Why am I the one you picked? I’m not enough. I never will be.” > “You are and you always will be. Bruce, you do so much for this city. For me. For your family.” > “It’s not enough.” > “You are only mostly human, Bruce Wayne. You have done things no one else could ever hope to do. If any one else were in your position, they would not have nearly enough strength as you do.”

- several months later, after Bruce is just idly going over case files, he remembers the ‘mostly human’ part of what Gotham said to him. He’d glossed over it before in his depressive spiral, but now he’s like !?

> “Gotham….” > “Yes, my dear?” > “‘Mostly human’. Care to explain what that means?” > awkward laugh, “Uh…..” > “Gotham.” > “I didn’t do it on purpose! I had no control!” > “Gotham.”

- order of who sees Gotham:

Bruce (obviously)

Jason (first time)

Tim

Duke

Jason (second time)

Steph

Dick

Cass

Damian

- the last three take a while but mostly because they’re not Gotham natives. Dick’s a little bitter about it because he practically spent his entire life in Gotham

> “You’re a traitor.” > “WHAT DID I DO?” > disgust, “Blüdhaven.” > “Oh. Whoops.”

- While Gotham is Bruce’s #1 Supporter™️, she is at times critical of his behavior and decisions. Particularly about things that damage his relationship w loved ones and things that he chooses to do in order to hurt himself

- she finds ‘Brucie’ to be distasteful

> “I didn’t raise you to be a whore.” > “You didn’t raise me to begin with.” > “STOP DENYING ME PARENTAL RIGHTS!”

- Gotham is, obviously, restricted to only appear within Gotham City’s borders. She’s only able to break through that restriction a handful of times, w the first being when Jason dies. There are a few other instances and she’s popped up on the Watchtower and jumpscared Bruce by accident. The JL were very confused and incredibly amused

- She’s able to take on the form of anyone, but sticks to a unique appearance of a woman w long black hair and pale skin. Her eyes are white and she’s typically dressed in a suit

> young Bruce, in awe, “You kind of look like me if I were cooler.” > “You’re plenty cool, Bruce.” > adult Bruce, tired, “Why are you in a suit?” > “Because I look cool, Bruce. You said so yourself.” > “I was ten!”

- she once offered to take on the appearance of his mother and Bruce shot it down so fast. She never brought it up again

- when Clark found out about her, he believed Bruce immediately. He’s the only one Bruce ever told who believed him right off the bat

> “You…don’t think I’m insane?” > “I do.” > “Then why would you lie and say you believe me?” > “Because I do. You’re insane about a lot of things, Bruce. But you sounded too serious when you told me about this, so why would I ever think you’re lying?”

- Gotham begrudgingly likes Clark

> “You hate Alfred for being an outsider, but Clark is in your good graces?” > “He’s an alien. It’s different.” > “He’s also from Metropolis.” > “Shhhhhh, don’t remind me. I’m trying to be blissfully ignorant.”

#she's just a silly little entity #bruce wayne #gotham #sentient gotham #jason todd #dick grayson #tim drake #alfred pennyworth #clark kent #batfamily #batfam #batman #my post

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abysful · 2 days ago

Text

Tread carefully

Contains: Plot, Friends to Fuck buddies, Mentions of Masturbation, Smut (not-so-dry humping, blow job, p in v)

Summary: You love summer more than most, yet swimming has never been your strong suit beyond a survival doggy paddle. But one quiet summer night, your friend Chris teaches you a few tricks, in and out of the water.

Word count: 5k

There was nothing that riled you up more than when your three best friends claimed to “hate” summer. You reminded them time and time again how amazing it was to be surrounded by bright green grass and beautiful flowers, and how all it takes when you feel the heat bundle you up a bit too tight, is a carefree dip in a cooling chlorine filled pool. The complaints of how sticky and humid the air gets during summer seem to quiet down to silence when summer finally arrives and everyone’s skin is sun kissed and warm, when music and laughter accompanies a bonfire, and when all of your friends are happier and lighter.

“T’s sweaty and fucking gross” Nick starts, reminded of his hatred for the season when a headline of summers first day being a week away, pops up on his Instagram feed.

You look at Matt and Chris waiting for either of them to swoop in and defend your favourite time of year but you quickly realize you’re on your own.

“Let’s not get disrespectful” you play around, trying to stop yourself from getting in a unserious but low-key serious debate with Nick.

Nick looks at you unamused “I literally don’t fucking believe you when you say summers your favourite season… you aren’t even from LA. There’s mosquitoes and allergies and fucking sunburn.” he exclaims.

The friendly banter goes on through the night, regardless of the activity, only stopping when you’re all asleep on their couches after an evening filled with jokes, games, and stupid stories.

At some odd hour in the night, the dry cotton-mouth that left the walls of your mouth feeling like sandpaper, had rudely yanked you from your disorganized and frankly confusing dreams.

There was no possibility that you were going to ignore the now hydrophobic texture taking place within your jaws, the only option was to get up as silently as possible and find something to remedy your dehydration.

In hopes you wouldn’t disturb your peacefully sleeping friends, you sink into the couch as you lay straight, slowly rolling off of the cushion to the floor, using all of your arm strength to softly lower yourself without making a sound.

As you stand, you look over the dormant bodies of the people you care most about, wondering what they’re seeing in their dreams, some on the couch, others on air-mattresses that were in place of the coffee table.

Though the sweet admiration quickly turns into a headcount, you see Madi, Nick, Matt, Madison, but no Chris.

Your mind can barely process your consciousness, so Chris’ whereabouts slip out from your thoughts almost immediately when you regain awareness of the dryness coursing your throat and tongue.

Pivoting on your heels, you B-line for the kitchen, so eager to drink just one glass of water, the ability to stay quiet threatens to disappear. Once the glass is in your grasp, and the slippery condensation cools your clammy palms, you begin to guzzle the liquid in your cup, letting out loud breaths between each gulp.

Feet standing a foot and a half from the sink, you bend over to rest your elbows on the countertop, your body at a near 90 degree angle.

You don’t even hear the sound of a toilet flushing or a door opening, nor did you hear any footsteps approaching, the feeling of the water reviving every vein and artery was clouding your thinking.

Chris walked into the kitchen from the bathroom, heading for the sink to get a drink. His eyes had just been exposed to the bright florescent lights of the washroom just a moment ago so when he flicked the switch off, his eyes were able to see virtually nothing.

Touching and feeling around him, once he understood where the table and cabinets were located in relation to him, he no longer felt the need to extend his arms for guidance.

That was until he was a few steps from the sink. Chris’ walking is abruptly interrupted when his clothed groin slams against your ass as you’re leaning on your forearms, hovering over the basin.

“Shit” he whisper yelled, completely oblivious to who it was he rammed into.

Instinctively he reached out again to feel who was in front of him, it all happened so fast, his hands finding your hips in search of anything identifiable in the blinding darkness.

“Woah” you yelped, now turning as fast as your body physically allowed you to.

Your familiar voice telling Chris all he needed to know, he pulled his grip back as if he’d just touched a scalding hot stovetop.

“Sorry sorry sorry” he slewed out rapidly, his voice now quiet but above a whisper.

“Ts fine, my fault for not paying attention” you apologized soon after, out of curtesy more than honesty.

A thought paralyzing silence blanketed the both of you, embarrassment being the only feeling in the kitchen that now felt 2 feet wide.

“Thirsty?” Chris whispers, very obviously trying to move on and not have that be the last thing that you two remember before going back to sleep.

Your body flinches slightly when you remember you aren’t completely alone in your thoughts.

“A little” You turn your head to meet Chris’ gaze, being in the solid dark long enough for your eyes to adjust, you can probably see Chris better than he can see you.

His shorts are hanging slightly too low, the fault of him trying to ‘keep his tired’ and haphazardly throwing on his bottoms before rushing out of the bathroom just a few moments ago.

Chris had a charm about him that made you find him more attractive than most of the men in your life but you didn’t spend any time figuring out what that even meant to you, so of course you assumed the pulse in your head, heart, and heat that came about whenever he was around, was nothing.

Yet in the dark, having a chance to take a good look at a barely clothed Chris without him being able to tell where your gaze fell, you used the opportunity as any person would, you checked him the fuck out.

Your eyes started at his V-line but his happy trail caught your attention not long after. You could tell by the way it was growing that he had been shaving around it to keep it shaped nice, not overgrown, but still visible. ‘Sort of like a landing strip’ your inner monologue narrated in your head, making you break into a smile that only you knew about.

With every breath inwards he took, all of him moved with it. The room was still too dark to be able to identify much else so you decided to cut your semi pervy staring session short, the places that your mind was going needed to be knocked unconscious.

“I need to hurry up and lay down before I fully wake up” you smiled at Chris, though he definitely couldn’t see well enough to tell. He let out a hum of agreement as you let your tired legs guide you to the large comfy couch.

Ever so quietly, you ascend back into the small indent your body left on the pillowy cushion. Comfort washed over you as your body felt as if it was melting and becoming one with the cloud of a sofa that was underneath you, you didn’t even get to the number four when counting yourself to sleep.

That night was weeks ago, between then and now, things were predominately business as usual except for two things, one slightly more concerning than the other.

On the brighter side, summer was here, your skin was glowier than ever, the skies had never been clearer, and every feeling seemed more intense.

But the time between the mishap and now— it seemed that every single night that you were unable to sleep, like a movie, you replayed the view of Chris that night, over and over in your head.

One night in particular you were engaging in sexual self care, and as much as you fought it with every neuron and vessel in your brain— the only image that got you to cum was that of Chris’ slender figure looming over you in the dark kitchen in the earlier hours before dawn.

Between their meetings and your job, none of you had the chance to spend a full day enjoying the heat of your beloved season quite yet.

“Y/n idc what you gotta do but we’re going swimming tomorrow” Nick texted you out of nowhere, it was 7pm and you were winding down from yet another busy day of working, going to the gym, and just the general tasks of everyday life.

“I’m there” you typed back with one hand while the other stirred your vodka pasta simmering on the stove.

That night your mind struggled to sleep once more, it seemed that only when you needed to rest the most, your bed morphed into a lumpy boulder keeping you from the level of comfort you needed for tomorrow to come quickly.

Thoughts about spending the day with the triplets, spending the day with Chris, more so, getting to see shirtless Chris in broad daylight this time, were wading through your mind. Over an hour of tossing and turning later, you drifted off to dreamland.

Your plans started later than discussed which was nothing but normal for your group of friends, everyone woke up late, got dressed late, and found their way to Madison’s LA home 3 hours late, by the grace of god you all showed up around the same time.

What was once a 1pm hang out, began at 4pm. First going to get ice cream, Madi and Matt got regular flavours while Nick and Chris purchased odd but reasonable mixes. You and Madison on the other hand, decided to get the most nonsensical and unappetizing combinations of ice creams.

“Get that fuckass cup out of my face” Nick retorted to you after you offered him a bite of your Frankenstein fro yo, to which you all belly laughed.

Then thrifting, it seemed Matt had the sharpest eye for that sort of thing, while the rest of you dicked around, mocking the freaky antiques you found, eventually leaving empty handed.

Finally, you were all in Madison’s pool an hour before sun down. There wasn’t much time for staring, Chris went from clothed to wearing nothing but swim trunks and submerged in water within half of a second.

The missed opportunity to bask in his sex appeal didn’t bother you too much, their was a level of guilt that was paired with each dirty thought you had of Chris which you weren’t opposed to not having to experience on your first proper hang out of the summer.

Last summer when you first met everyone, your choice of swimwear was one pieces and basketball shorts— a result of unjustified self critical thoughts, but the year in between was spent building up your self esteem and getting comfortable with letting yourself feel sexy. Now your choice of swimwear was more scantly clad, a black twisted bandeau top that’s half a size too small and tie-side bottoms.

The first 30 minutes in the pool, everyone played chicken fight, taking turns on shoulders— around 20 minutes til sundown, Nick and Madi volunteered to leave the pool to order food and chill in the hammocks. After their departure, lighthearted conversation flowed seamlessly between the four of you, that was until Matt poked fun at you about your swimming.

“Can you do literally anything other than a doggy paddle?” He teased, your face started to feel hot, remembering talks of the triplets laughing about their mom being an adult and not knowing how to swim.

“Matt shut up, she can swim” Chris chimes in, seemingly not to defend you but instead, actually in denial that you lacked the ability keep yourself afloat.

“No seriously, have you seen her leave the shallow end” he points out, his words phrased in a way to make you feel like he’s joking with you not at you, which made you a lot less embarrassed about the whole thing.

“She can swim a bit Matt” Madison inserts, her words prompt you to slowly glide through the water to the deep end.

The issue was never with getting somewhere in the water, it was staying above surface level. Once you reached the other side of her pool, you turned right back around and started swimming to your self assigned place in the shallow end.

“See? I swam” you snapped back playfully, jetting your gaze to Matt. A smile creeps onto your face before you mumble incoherently under your breath for comedic effect.

“What?” Chris prods with a smirk.

“I just can’t keep my head over the water if I’m not moving” you sheepishly confess.

“Y’mean tread water kid?” He asks, sounding unconvinced.

“Mhm” you nod, ironically standing in the kiddie end feeling like a 12 year old.

“D’you need me to teach you?” his words now laced with hints of genuine concern that you’ve gone this long without acquiring such an important skill.

You shrug “You couldn’t teach a dog to bark but I’ll let you try.” the idea of touching Chris’ slippery skin under the privacy of warped water is enough to twist your stomach.

Your mind was only just beginning to wander to unwarranted directions when Nick called out from his hammock.

“FOODS HERE”.

You expected Chris to do the ‘Chris thing’ by jumping out of the pool and running for the patio, but that wasn’t what happened. His eyes stayed planted on you, yours finding his quickly after noticing he didn’t seem to care much about his surroundings.

“Lemme teach you right now” he asserted, his voice was calm, all the while being more serious than it had been all day. The swift shift in mood threw you off to a panic.

“N-No it’s fine we can eat first”, if you had a gun to shoot yourself in the foot right now, you would. You knew yourself better than anyone, and one thing that was certain, was that you didn’t have much self control.

Everyone gathered around the dining room table, and by the time the food was finished, the sun had disappeared, lowering behind the sky high Hollywood hills.

The evening became night, and Chris was off in the washroom doing god knows what. Having read the oven clock, Madi stated she’d be calling it a night and walked over to the guest room with a blanket in one hand and her phone in the other, Matt suggested playing a movie up in Madison’s room, to which you declined from your spot on the couch, and watched as your three friends skipped up the stairs.

Less than ten minutes later, Chris finally joined you in the living room.

“Where’s everybody?” He asked.

“Madi went to bed and the rest are doing a movie night upstairs” you answered not looking up from your phone, mainly from the shame you felt.

The entire dinner, Chris’ eyes remained tethered to yours, it confused you at first but rather than wondering what he was thinking, you allowed your mind to go to places of its own.

Behind your eyes were made up images of Chris, you carried out scenarios of what it would be like to let him have you in any way he wanted, you imaged all while holding eye contact with him. Now you had spent time alone with thoughts and the feelings of satisfaction morphed into disgust with yourself.

“You gonna let me teach you now?” He inquires, you can see in your peripheral vision that his focus never faltered you once.

“What, like now now?” You question.

“Ion know what other now there is” he says.

You shrug, trying to give off the impression that none of this matters much to you, but internally, nearly every organ of yours is turning and tossing. Following his lead, you both find your way out of the sliding glass doors to the back of the house where your swimming attire is hanging to dry.

Chris pulls the corner to dress in a concealed area, on the other side of a picketed fence gate. You shamelessly but speedily put on your bikini and jumped into the pool with a loud splash, non verbally informing Chris you were finished dressing.

He appeared out from around the bend, swim shorts riding lower than they did when there was an extra 4 bodies in the pool with you earlier. Stepping back so he could have a longer running start, Chris cannonballed right over your head, landing in the deep end. A few seconds later he emerged from underwater.

“See how my arms ain’t movin” he nods down to his arms floating in one spot.

“Yeah” you engage.

“Go underwater an open your eyes” he instructs you in a suggesting tone.

Abiding by his wishes and taking a deep breath in, stretching the inner lining of your cheeks as you collect as much air as your mouth will allow, you had dived to watch the correct way to tread water, but you stayed to gawk at his abdomen flex and move with every kick each leg made.

You remained submerged, enjoying the show, until there was no air left in your lungs. Once you come back up for air, he questions you.

“Y’think you can do it?”.

You shrug to which he starts up again “cmere” he orders, less jokey as before. His assertiveness only fuels the fire of desire within you.

You swim slowly to him, once you get close enough, he grabs your hands and places them straight out to the side like a ‘T’.

“M’not gonna let you go, just pedal” he softly guides you as his hands stay clinging to yours.

Both sets of your arms are spread out leaving very little room between your bodies and faces. Every word of encouragement muttered in gentle whispers, the distance between you, or lack there of, ensured that you never needed to exceed quiet breathy volumes.

“That’s good”

“Like this?”

“Yeah you’re doin so good keep goin”.

To an outsider, the exchange sounded erotic, and though neither of you would admit it in that moment, as insiders, it felt erotic.

He eased his fingers out of yours until you were staying up on your own. You felt like you were levitating.

“No shit, I’m actually doing it” you cheered, but the ten minutes of trial and error left your legs exhausted.

Your legs cramped and froze as your hands reach back for Chris, landing firmly on his shoulders.

“Tired?” He rhetorically asked, eyes searching for yours as you stayed looking at the water.

“Y’know you can do it with your arms too” he tried to motivate you.

“Yeah maybe you can but I think I’m good with just the legs” most of your pessimism coming from insecurity.

“No seriously, it’s lowkey easier too” he said in attempt to brighten your outlook.

“Let me just-” his words snuffed out, as his fingers snaked down to your sides.

“Can I hold you here?” his voice drops an octave. You look up at him, nodding, as you feel his touch glide down to the small of your back underneath the water. The nervousness weighing you down, as you lower your hold on his shoulders, trying to move your arms in a circular motion.

The sexual frustration within you intertwines with your actual frustration of not being able to get the hang of things, a look of agitation growing on your face. Your eyebrows furrowed and the near permanent smile that painted your lips, turned sour, now straight.

“You’re doin fine, just relax a bit” he begins, “I gotchu” his grip around the lower half of your torso tightens.

As your mind begins to realign its focus on the physical task you both came for, you feel something graze your lower stomach faintly, just underneath your belly button. Diverging your hyper-fixation to look down, you feel Chris’ arms slowly let you go, initiating a knee jerk response for your arms to fling up to link behind the nape of his neck to support you.

The change in grounding point, brought you closer to his body than before. The thing touched you again, this time much less subtly, and the lack of space between you and Chris, gave you a near certain answer to what that thing was.

Every night you spent unrested you imagined a moment like this, and every orgasm you brought yourself to with the faint thought of Chris in that kitchen, you imagined a moment like this, you knew exactly what you wanted to happen, it was just about how.

“Sorry” Chris lamely excused, he didn’t attempt to string together what other reasons there could possibly have been for his dick to be in the state that it was. But you didn’t comfort his embarrassment, nor did you back away from where you were, instead you chose to seize the moment.

Your legs started off straight, but close to his, then, you began to bend your knees while parting a gap between your thighs. One of your arms stayed around his neck while the other travelled up the back of his head to interlock with his deep brown strands, now black from being soaked in water.

Only seconds later did your lower half complete its journey to be fully draped around his waist. Your faces, once inches apart, now only centimetres away from one another. His eyes broke free from their shackled gaze with yours, as your body language gave him the go-ahead to finally look at your frame the way you had peered at his once before.

The long string of weeks where you could only think of how he would feel on you and in you, was enough foreplay in itself, so you made no haste to bridge your hips up against his pulsing cock under the still water. The warmth that was rushing to every part of your bodies, made the water feel that much colder.

When he had finished eating you with his eyes, his hand jerked up from your back, to clasp your cheek. As he guided your mouth to his, his tongue waited from no invitation. The kiss was wet and messy from the beginning, only picking up heat as you explode each other’s bodies with no hesitation. His hand slipped down from your back to cup your ass before squeezing it and rubbing it repeatedly, the other hand slithering down from your jaw to find hold on your neck.

With the gap between your bodies non existent, his solid cock tented in his shorts was now pressed up against your aching core. Using the strength of your knees around his waist, you began to wine your hips in a circular motion, utilizing the part of his shaft that was against your cunt as friction.

The both of you moaned at the action, him bucking his hips in response. The coolness of the pool sent waves of shock as the cold ripples acted against your throbbing heat, the kisses became sloppy as you and Chris lost the capacity to think, thinness of your swimwear allowing every point of contact between you to feel as if neither of you had clothes on.

After barely 5 minutes of breathlessly making out and grinding over his hungry dick, you pull away from Chris.

“The pool house” was all you could slew out as you tried to catch your breath, you look deep into his eyes, the blue irises now near impossible to see beyond his black dilated pupils. He gulped in excitement, mind numb, all he could do was nod.

Both of you wasted not a second climbing out of the water, and creaking the door open. The pool house didn’t have much inside, but catching a fairly large couch in the corner, you both stumbled over towards it.

Chris immediately sat down, presuming you would assume the same position of straddling him as you did in the pool, but instead you lowered onto your knees. The sight of you so eager to make him feel good prompted Chris to whip his head back and let out a sigh of built up sexual frustration.

As your fingers hooked underneath the hem of his shorts and tugged, his length sprung out, slapping into his stomach. You knew your time in the pool was torture from his irritated tip, the colour of his teased dick making you want to do nothing more than relieve the pressure.

Once his gaze fell back onto you, your hands spread out on his thighs, sliding up to his cock, once you grab hold of it, you look into his eyes before collecting your saliva and slowly letting it run down his pulsing dick. Once his length was wet enough, you used one of your hangs to circle his tip with your palm while the other assisted your mouth in taking all of him from the side, running your lips along his dick. “Fuuuuckkkk don’t stop” he groaned as his fingers trailed through your hair.

Eventually you remove your hand from his now much redder tip, and slide his cock down your throat until your nose hits his skin. You keep him in your throat for a second or two as you look up at him, his eyes getting teary just as yours were. You continued to ram his dick in and out of your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you did so, his moans never stopping once, kept you going.

When you knew he was close, you used both of your hands to stroke him while your tongue lapped around the head of his throbbing cock. It took less than a second for him to cum, you popped his dick out of your mouth and steered his dick to shoot his thick white ropes of cum onto your chest. When he caught his breath he looked into your eyes.

“Didn’t wanna swallow?” He joked.

“You drink Pepsi like its water and eat like a 7 year old with a bank account and free will, I would rather drink bleach than your cum Chris” you shot back.

“Fair” he responded before pausing, then finishing his thought, “I bet your pussy’d soak up my cum with no complaints”.

Rather than a verbal response to the annoying but honest truth, you gave him a physical one. You stood up and pulled the strings of your bikini bottoms in one motion before crawling onto his lap. He looked at you as a cocky smile crept onto his face. You were on your knees hovering over his eager dick, your pussy pumping since the pool.

Waiting for him to enter your needy hole, you look down at his hand finding his length as he guided it to your entrance but rather than placing his dick where you wanted it, he tried teasing you, sliding his tip over your over-aroused clit. You moan, furrowing your eyebrows, eyes still planted on what he was doing.

“Chris… don’t… fuck around” you stammered between your heavy breaths and groans. He sneered and let out a huffy breath of amusement before finally letting his dick find your sopping wet hole, bottoming out immediately, not allowing you to adjust to his impressive size.

“Fuck” you screamed, leaning forward to embrace him, resting your chin over his shoulders and wrapping your arms around him.

“Easyyy easyyy” he hushed. His hands found your ass, softly grabbing hold of it as he lifted you up and down.

“Too much?” he asks, turning his head so his mouth pressed up against your ear as he whispers.

“Mm, keep going” you respond, almost forgetting how to communicate out of pure bliss, your eyes begin to roll to the back of your head and your eyelashes flutter. Chris plants kisses on your shoulder, as your moans get louder you can feel him smile into the kisses.

His slender fingers find your clit, using your slippery wetness to make his digits slide faster in circles. Every one of your limbs begin to numb, your mind soon following. As a blur grows around your vision, your moans turn to screams, the distance from the house your friends were in was large enough for you to let all that you were feeling be heard.

“Chris” you start to which he interrupts.

“I got you, cum for me baby” his thrusts rapid like bullet fire, sending your body into ecstasy. One second the knot is building in your gut, the next, it snaps.

“Fuck fuck fuck” you scream out.

“Mhm I got you” he assures you, as you ride out the feeling of his dick slamming against your g-spot and his fingers caressing your overstimulated clit.

As you come down from your high, you lean back, the sweet sweat that collected between your chests made it all feel so intimate. Chris slips out of you and runs his finger between your folds one last time, raising his hand to show you the white liquid dripping out of you.

He smiled and egotistically smiles “told you”, you grab his fingers and lick the cum off, more for the purpose of shutting him up.

After dressing into your indoor clothes and limping back to the house, you walk upstairs to Madison’s room with Chris by your side. “D’you get the hang of it?” Matt asked, not looking away from the rom-com playing on the TV in front of him. “Yeah, fast as fuck too, had time to teach her other shit too” Chris answered for you.

Authors note: I suck at smut but I feel like this one’s a bit better than the last one, TBHHHH this was basically a self insert cause I can’t swim for shit but I hope y’all liked it, happy Wednesday!!!

I forgot who wanted to be tagged ngl

Taglist: @hjvi @theyluvivi @sturniolosrtewsexy

#sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #abysful

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luveline · 3 days ago

Note

Jade I’ve entered my Fred Weasley era and a special friend owns me. Almost finished with my second read through and will probably immediately roll into my third. From the bottom of my heart, it hits different. I was wondering if you’d do one where ghostie gets overwhelmed in the shop and spontaneously decides to take a walk to clear her head. And Fred assumes she’s just stepping out for a moment to get air and promptly freaks out when he sees she’s gone? Doting, overprotective Fred makes me melt 🥹

The Weasley’s do three for two on Thursdays, drawing a large crowd without fail and despite a sore lack of their most common demographic. The school kids, often too overwhelmed with their schoolwork to mail in, and too far away to come in person, send their parental gophers with lists and good intent.

“And, uh… Genovian powder,” the white-haired woman says, peering at you through a pair of wonky glasses. Behind one green half moon and a purple star lense, spider-leg lashes blink slowly.

“Peruvian?” you offer nervously.

“No, don’t think so.”

“We have Peruvian Darkness Powder, or there’s Calesthian Dragon Powder, but if there’s a Genovian one here I haven’t seen it,” you say with an apologetic frown. “But I can ask George.”

“Who’s that?”

“One of the Weasley’s. I’ll be right back, okay?”

Working like this as someone to help and appease customers makes you cringe at yourself. Hearing how you talk to people. It’s not as though there’s shame in giving the customers patience or working, but there’s definitely something to be said about how fake it feels on you. Your poor attempts at being easy-going can make your chest ache in slow, overdue regret hours after you’ve turned the OPEN sign to CLOSED. You’re still worrying at your cheek when you find George where you’d suspected him, demonstrating firecracker poppers disguised as hair ties to a crowd of frowning parents.

He thankfully abandons the task quickly when he notices you waiting. “What, ghost?”

The nickname is said without thought. Anyone listening won’t get it, but it doesn’t matter. You feel a little bit better when he says it because getting it marked the first time anyone ever noticed you enough to care, and whenever they use it now, it’s reinforcement. Like a reminder that you’re their ghost, whatever that is (a too long definition).

“Genovian powder?” you ask.

“No, not us. Calesthian–”

“I asked her, she’s sure it was Genovian–”

“They’re all bloody sure until you show them the box–”

“I know, but I don’t think she’ll believe me–”

“She’ll bloody well believe me, then,” George says, giving your arm a shake before he rounds you. He spots the woman and her Technicolor glasses immediately, jumping into a spiel they give about the Darkness Powder as he goes.

“Can you show us the Pygmies?” someone asks you.

Pygmy puffs, fake love love potions that explode in your face when you try to use them, help with a return, bathroom break, tight jeans with a stiff zipper, bruise on your elbow from the back door, customer doesn’t know where the stairs are to get to the second floor, you’re on the second floor, a flash of lovely Fred by the till, his loving smile, encouraging, his huff and the hair on his forehead ruffling about.

You nod toward the door. Fred nods back, hurried, It’s fine.

The second you’re through the door you can take a breath. The further you get from the shop, the looser your chest feels. You hurry down the alley past the dragon popcorn machine and just keep walking. Some of the other shopkeepers are around and greet you quickly, but there’s barely anyone to see. Everyone must be in the Weasleys’.

You spot a few sturdy looking boxes down the side of the Magician’s Tree pub and sit down hard. Your face feels greasy and itchy, your hands are aching from the Pygmies, a scratch running in a road line down your wrist. You feel at it with your thumb nail. It looks like you could’ve done it on purpose.

What if Fred thinks you did it on purpose?

You scratch at the thickest part, which isn’t any wider than the edge of a nail, not even deep enough to scab. It’s just two lines one after the other where whatever hurt you must’ve been jagged. It’s a scratch. It isn’t– you couldn’t have done it with intent, and Fred will know that. You picture his worrying and feel sick to your stomach suddenly, dropping your head back against the wall to take deep, cold breaths. He won’t mind the scratch, and he’ll believe you when you tell him it wasn’t you, but he’ll worry first.

You aren’t sure where you are for a little while. Eyes slipped shut, someone else’s hand on the wheel.

He’ll worry, you think insistently, standing up.

You make your way back to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and shoulder open the door.

The displays are a mess. A stack of potions that promise to turn your skin a modern, appealing green have come down. Ones come unstoppered, leaking a bright yellow liquid in an oval across the floor. You think vaguely that you should clean it and kneel beside it, pulling the slight of your wand from your back pocket. “Tergeo,” you whisper, curling your wrist.

The potion disappears.

Standing, you hold your arm wide and pull, thinking a meagre moving spell that deigns to work, upping the display and shuffling each potion back onto its shelves.

You hadn’t thought you were gone so long as for it to be closing time, but perhaps it was nearly the end of the day. You give most things a clean with quick magic or elbow grease, closing the shutters and locking the door. You go up the staircase to the second level and do the same, before retreating back to the ground floor and heading past the tills to the stairs to the flat. Fred and George will be making dinner, or George might’ve gone home already, though he usually says bye first. Yesterday he stole a sideways hug and disappeared a half a step away from you, clothes whipping in his wake. Fred called him a prat, and a few seconds later George had apparated back, sure that Fred had said something cruel. I know you were, brother mine. Their freaky twin sense knows no bounds.

The boys aren’t in the flat. The door to the bedroom is open wide and there’s an obvious lack of them —if Fred were here, you’d hear him. Humming or mumbling or making the bed.

A slip of white fog slams its way into the room in a swoop from the kitchen, a hurried magpie curling around your shoulders to hold itself, flapping pearly wings an inch from your face. GHOST, it whispers, WHERE ARE YOU? MEET ME AT THE FLAT, NOW.

You blink at it. “I’m here,” you say, startled again when it disappears in a burst like sand.

A minute later and there are footsteps barrelling up the stairs. You let your wand fall back into your hand and point it at the entrance through doorways, not actually sure what you’d do if it were an intruder.

The logical part of you knows that it’s Fred, but the relief doesn’t come until he’s opening the door and stopping short. “Oh,” he says, sounding as cracked in half as he can be while still physically whole. His lips part again as though he’s got more to say, but he crosses the flat to you in four big strides and wraps his arms around you instead. He squeezes you hard enough to make the bones in your back click.

“What happened?” you ask worriedly. “Are you okay?”

He says your name, again like he means to keep on.

“What?” you ask.

“Are you alright?” he asks, pulling away to take your face into cold hands, missing nearly all of his usual tenderness. This is the touch of lingering panic, slowly melding itself into love. “Are you? Where did you go?”

“I went– just went past the Magic Tree. Did you close?”

“When I couldn’t find you, yes, I closed. I looked up and down the alley twice, I didn’t see you.”

“I– sorry–”

“No, it’s okay, it’s fine if you’re alright.” He gazes at you imploringly. “Are you?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, a little diffident in the face of all this worry. You hadn’t thought of whether you were alright or not, you’d just walked off, and now you’re not sure you were fully you when you came back. The longer he holds you in his palms, the worse you feel. The pinch of his mouth brings tears to your eyes.

“Are you hurt?” he asks quietly.

Obviously you aren’t. You show him the scratch anyway.

“Ow,” he murmurs, sympathetic as his hands fall from your face to hold your elbow and wrist instead. It seems deeper while he looks, longer, and it stings as he presses his thumb to an edge. “Shall I mend it?”

“Yeah. Yes.”

Fred pulls your arm to kiss the crook of your elbow, and then the cut is healing, from red to pink to purple to white, a second and then gone, his non-verbal cut-mending charm practised, perfect. Tomorrow, you won’t be able to see the scar.

He smiles at you. “See that? Magic kiss.”

“That was good.”

“They’re all like that, you know,” he says, which is as much warning as you want or need as he ducks in to kiss you. Kisses twice, a third time, nose tapped into yours and breath warm as it skims your lips, your Cupid’s bow, and your soft cheek.

“Fred.”

“Ghost, I thought you were going to have a sit down outside of the shop like you do, but you– why’d you go all the way to Magic Tree?”

“I didn’t mean to walk that far.”

You can see his tongue behind his lips, running against the line of his teeth. He’s frowning without meaning to, deeply, his eyebrows drawn and his usually gentle eyes dark, like he’s angry, or he could be, but it never turns itself on you.

“No?” Fred asks, his voice dropping in register, “Where’d you mean to go?”

“I didn’t mean to go anywhere.”

“You don’t have to cry,” he says under his breath. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I’m not,” you say back, because you don’t want him to worry, because you’re not sure if you’re gonna cry or not and it wouldn’t matter if you did, only you don’t think you can stand the look on his face now, like you’ve accidentally hurt yourself and he feels sorry for you, like you could be sitting in the hospital wing at school right now waiting for a verdict.

“What happened?” he asks.

“The scratch?”

“Everything, lovely.”

“I cleaned up downstairs.”

He nods. “Okay. Thank you.”

Fred guides you wordlessly to the sofa and waits for you to sit before sitting right next to you, not a lick of space between you as he bunches an arm around you and presses your forehead to his mouth, but he doesn’t kiss it. He hugs you, occasionally adjusting against you like you’re slippery, and he doesn’t speak.

“I scared you,” you croak.

“Yeah, you did.”

You feel a sob like a bubble in your throat. You squeeze your mouth shut and press your face into Fred’s shoulder, nonplussed by your own emotion, hating to make a show of things. Fred shushes you gently, already waiting to rub your back as the tears start, and when they won’t end. “It’s okay,” he says, twice, three times, until it’s one word. “S’okay, you’re okay, it’s alright, Y/N. It is.”

You don’t make a sound that isn’t sucking in air or the worst kind of whine at the back of your throat. You don’t sob out loud. You don’t try to say sorry.

Eventually, you scare Fred worse. “Baby,” he says into your forehead, more touch than sound, “you need to calm down. You’re gonna make yourself sick.”

You nod emphatically and cling to him, worried he’ll move. He stays where he is, humming approvingly when your tears begin to slow. You must sniffle into his shoulder for a quarter of an hour without his complaint, an odd relief in his hand as he rubs circles against your upper back, like this is a good thing. A part of you thinks he must be furious and annoyed to have to do it, but the reality, and that you’re familiar with, is that Fred just loves you, so he doesn’t mind.

You don’t say sorry. You won’t try. It’ll upset him more.

“Alright?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“Want a drink or something?”

“No.”

“Sure you’re okay?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“You don’t have to know,” he says, pulling away to rub a nice finger down your cheek. He dries salt tracks and carefully, carefully brushes the last of your tears from your eyelashes with a pale fingertips. His cheeks are blushed from your hugging. His freckles are like paint flecks wet against his skin. “We can have a cup of tea, or hot chocolate or coffee. I can make you cream of chicken, if you want. It’s about dinner time.”

“I don’t want anything. Do you want something?”

He smiles. Endeared.

“No,” —he follows the bridge of your nose with a fingertip— “I don’t need anything.”

“Okay,” you say, more to yourself than him, paying a great deal of interest to your lap.

“Are you feeling at all better?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

He draws a line across your jaw, past your chin to shy of your ear. “It’s okay if you don’t feel better.”

“Do you want me to?”

“Feel better? Of course I do.”

You let yourself sink into his lap. Shuffling and collapsing, his hand falling to the small of your back.

Fred holds you for a long time. After, he makes dinner, and you get misty eyed at the table, and he can’t pretend he doesn’t notice, and you struggle through every bite and ask him if he was really, truly scared, and he says he was. He doesn't protest when you ask to go to bed while the sun is still up, only closes the curtains and casts a charm to keep the light out, only tucks you in, only rests his weight against you with his hand held lightly across the bottom of your face. You kiss his palm. He lets his index finger brush under your nose, like he’s looking for a seam.

#a special friend universe #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley

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odileeclipse · 2 days ago

Text

A Wager of Fate PT 7

A/N I actually really liked writing this I hope y'all enjoyyyy!

Reminder not proof read, I tried my best to go through it but...

Your wings fluttered, slow and deliberate, as you drew in a breath. “What if…” You hesitated, fingers flexing at your sides. “What if you didn’t have to be a monster?” Shadow Milk chuckled, a familiar sound but this time, you weren’t so quick to let it unnerve you. “Didn’t we already have this conversation?” You shook your head, stepping forward, meeting the space where he lingered. “No. Before, I was asking you to change for the sake of everyone else. But what if…” You exhaled, voice softer now, weaving something gentler between your words. “What if you just changed for me?” Silence.It was different this time not the silence of an unreadable beast, but something heavier. Something considering. A slow hum curled through the air. “Oh? And what exactly are you proposing, dear little Faerie?” Your hands tightened, but your expression stayed composed. “You want freedom. I want… I want to believe there’s more to you than destruction.” You forced yourself to smile, small but warm. “So let’s both get what we want. Just the two of us.” Shadow Milk didn’t answer right away. Your heartbeat quickened. “You would have me leave them behind,” he murmured, voice unreadable. Your smile didn’t waver. “They’re not you.” Another beat of silence. He simply laughed. Low, rich, curling like silk around your senses. “Oh,” he sighed, almost delighted. “My little Faerie, you’re trying to deceive me.” You really weren’t but if that’s what he wanted to believe then so be it. Was persuasion deception? Your breath hitched, but you didn’t falter. Shadow Milk tsked, amusement bleeding into something more indulgent. “How very, very charming.” He knew of your poor persuasion. Of course, he knew. But he wasn’t rejecting it. Your wings twitched. “So?” you pressed, voice steady, despite the flutter in your chest. “Will you take my offer?” Shadow Milk hummed, as if pondering, but the warmth in his tone had shifted—something more intrigued, more interested. “…Now that,” he mused, “is a conversation worth having.”

Your wings fluttered as you took a steady breath. “What if I let you out?” Shadow Milk paused. The air around you shifted, his presence sharpening like the edge of a blade. “Oh?” he murmured, intrigued. You nodded, gripping your arms. “Just you. No one else.” A chuckle, warm and curling. “And here I thought you were still afraid of me.” You swallowed down your nerves. “I am.” Shadow Milk hummed, thoughtful. “Then why?” You forced yourself to meet where you felt him, standing firm. “Because if you leave, there won’t be a reason for the others to wake. I could fix this I could make sure they never rise.” Silence stretched between you, thick as fog. Then “Oh, my dear little Faerie,” Shadow Milk sighed, almost pitying. “You are lying to me.” Your stomach tightened. “I-” “You think I don’t see it?” His voice curled at the edges, both teasing and sharp. “You would let me go, only to shut the door behind me forever. You would free me, not as an act of kindness, but as a sacrifice.” Your fingers clenched against your arms. Shadow Milk only scoffed “How cruel,” he mused. “And here I thought you were better than that.” Your breath came shallow now. “Would you rather I not offer at all?” Another pause, then “I’d rather you admit it.” You faltered. Shadow Milk leaned in though he was never truly there his voice a whisper against your ear. “You’d betray your kingdom to set me loose, only to seal the rest away forever. Do you think that makes you righteous?” Your wings stiffened. A slow, knowing hum. “Or does it make you just like me?” Your heart pounded in your chest. Shadow Milk chuckled, dark amusement curling in his tone. “Go on, little Faerie,” he purred. “Make your offer.”

Your wings trembled as you exhaled, steadying yourself against the weight of his words. “I’m not like you.” Shadow Milk made a soft sound, something between a hum and a chuckle, but he didn’t interrupt. You took the silence as permission to go on. “If I let you out only you then this can end. No one else has to suffer. The other Beasts can stay sealed, untouched, forgotten. You can have your freedom, and the world can still be safe.” He tilted his head at least, you thought he did. You felt the shift in the air, the quiet consideration. Then, his voice curled around you, playful yet unreadable. “And what of you, little Faerie?” You swallowed. “What?” “If I am free, and the others are not…” His voice dipped, slow and deliberate. “Then what happens to you?” Your fingers tightened against your arms. “That doesn’t matter.” Shadow Milk clicked his tongue. “Oh, but it does.” You shook your head. “I can make this right.” He laughed “Right? Is that what you call this?” His voice dipped closer, slipping through the cracks in your resolve. “You’re bartering with a nightmare, little Faerie. Hoping to chain the shadows while you stand in the dark yourself.” Your breath hitched. He continued, amusement curling in every syllable. “Do you really think your kingdom would forgive you?” Your throat tightened. “Would she?” Your breath came unsteady now. “White Lily-”

“She’ll know,” Shadow Milk murmured. “Even if she never sees it, she’ll feel it. The weight of what you’ve done. And Elder Faerie? Oh, I imagine he’ll feel it most of all.” You closed your eyes, wings curling close as if that would shield you from his words. But Shadow Milk was relentless. “So tell me, little Faerie,” he purred. “If no one will forgive you… and you already stand at the edge of betrayal… why not fall?” Your stomach twisted. His voice softened, coaxing, almost sweet. “Let me out. Let’s leave. Just us. Forget the kingdom, forget the seal. You don’t have to be the martyr they made you.” Your wings twitched at the way he said us. As if he meant it. As if you weren’t alone in this. You bit your lip. “That’s not-” “What you want?” Shadow Milk cut in, laughing softly. “Or what you think you should want?” You forced yourself to take a breath. “This is the only way to keep the world safe. I have to do this.” Shadow Milk hummed, thoughtful. Then, lighthearted as ever, he sighed. “Oh, little Faerie.” His voice curled with something almost affectionate. “If you must deceive someone… at least be good at it.” Your chest tightened. Your brows furrowed, the words catching in your throat. “What are you talking about?”

Shadow Milk giggled like he was in on some grand joke you weren’t privy to. “Oh, little Faerie,” he mused, voice rich with amusement. “You don’t even realize it, do you?” You swallowed, wings twitching against your back. “Realize what?” He exhaled, slow and deliberate. “You say you’re doing this to keep the world safe,” he began, “that this is the only way. And yet…” His voice curled at the edges, dipping softer, smoother. “You’re trying so hard to convince me.” Your breath hitched. “If you were truly so certain so righteous then why seek my approval?” he asked, amusement laced in his words. “Why do you care what I think?” Your fingers dug into your arms. “I don’t.” Another laugh gentle, knowing. “Liar.” You flinched at the word, your wings giving an involuntary tremor. Shadow Milk hummed. “You say you want to keep the Beasts sealed, that you only wish to set me free,” he continued, his voice curling around you like smoke. “But is that really the truth?” You opened your mouth to protest, but the words wouldn’t come. Because now that he had spoken it aloud now that he had named it you weren’t sure anymore. Shadow Milk clicked his tongue. “Even you don’t know the truth, do you?” You exhaled shakily. “I-” He laughed again, but this time it was lighter, teasing. “Careful, little Faerie,” he purred. “If you’re not careful, you might just deceive yourself.”

Your throat tightened. Your mind swirled with tangled thoughts, half-formed and unraveling before you could grasp them. Finally, you managed, barely above a whisper, "Then what is the truth?" Shadow Milk sighed, like a tutor humoring a particularly slow student. “Now that is the right question.” You stiffened, waiting, dreading his answer. “The truth,” he mused, “is that you don’t truly know what you want.” Your wings fluttered, but you said nothing. He continued, voice lilting, playful but precise. “You call this a duty, a responsibility, and yet here you are, offering me freedom like a gift wrapped in trembling hands. You say you fear me, but you seek my voice like a lullaby in the dark.” A quiet chuckle. “And the best part? You don’t even realize you’re doing it.” Your breath caught. He leaned closer though he was never there to begin with, you felt it. “So tell me, little Faerie, is the truth that you wish to stop me?” His voice dipped lower, like a secret. “Or is it that you wish you didn’t have to?” The words struck something deep, something you couldn’t name. You turned away, gaze locking onto the tree as if it could anchor you, as if it could give you the truth you suddenly weren’t sure you had. Shadow Milk laughed again, a lilting sound, neither cruel nor kind. “Ah, but don’t look so troubled,” he teased. “Isn’t it more fun this way? A riddle even you can’t solve?” You clenched your fists. “I do know what I want,” you insisted, but it sounded weak, uncertain. Shadow Milk only hummed. “Oh? Then tell me.” You opened your mouth. No words came.

A shiver ran down your spine as the weight of the moment settled over you. Your wings trembled, your breath shallow. You had fought, reasoned, pleaded and yet, the more you spoke, the more his words slithered through the cracks of your resolve, threading doubt where certainty had once been.

And now, here you stood, lips parted, heart pounding, hearing your own voice whisper, “Fine.”

Shadow Milk stilled. Then, slowly, a breathy chuckle slipped through the air, curling around you like smoke. “Fine?” he echoed, amused, savoring the word. Your hands clenched at your sides. “I’ll do it,” you said, forcing yourself to stand firm. “I’ll let you out.” For a moment, there was silence. Then—warm, delighted laughter, rich and ringing. “Ah, finally!” he sighed, a grin in his voice. “You see? That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?” But your chest still felt tight, your pulse thrumming with unease. Hesitation clung to you like a second skin, and before you could stop yourself, the question slipped free. “And what about me?” His laughter quieted. “What about you?” You swallowed. “Once you’re free, once you have what you want, what happens to me?” You exhaled shakily, willing your voice to remain steady. “You… you won’t need me anymore. So what then? Am I discarded? Left behind? Do I-” “Oh, sweet little Faerie.” His voice was honeyed, coaxing, as though the very idea amused him. “You think I would ever let you go?” Your breath hitched. “You called to me. You chose me.” His voice softened, curling around you like a whisper of silk. “And I am nothing if not loyal to those who choose me.” A pause. Then, low and knowing, he added, “After all… you wouldn’t really want to be rid of me, now, would you?” Your fingers twitched. Your gaze darted toward the tree, searching for an answer in its ancient bark, in the rustling leaves, in the whisper of the seal you were about to break. Shadow Milk chuckled, slow and pleased. “I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me.”

The moment your hand pressed against the tree, the air seemed to shudder.A crack of light, unnatural and wrong, split across the bark like a wound reopening. The seal shattered, the earth beneath you trembled. Tears blurred your vision, streaking down your cheeks as you choked on a breath. This is wrong. You knew it. Every fiber of your being screamed at you to stop, to turn back, to undo what you had done. But your body moved as though possessed, as though something far greater than your own will was dragging you forward. A voice his voice was there, curling around your mind, urging you on with honeyed whispers. You’re almost there, little Faerie. Just a little more… Then, chaos. The Silver Tree once a pillar of unwavering strength groaned, its ancient branches twisting as if recoiling from what had just transpired. A violent gust tore through the clearing, sending leaves and petals spiraling into the darkening sky. The once-gentle glow of the sacred grove flickered, dimming as the corruption took root. And then light. Blinding, searing, and unyielding. It erupted from the distance, cutting through the dense, trembling canopy. The unmistakable brilliance of magic their magic rushed toward you, carried by the sound of armor clattering against the forest floor. Then voices. Urgent. Stricken. Familiar. Your breath hitched, your body frozen in place as the clearing was flooded with their presence. White Lily Cookie was the first to arrive, her cape billowing as she skidded to a halt. Her expression soft and kind in every memory you held was twisted into something between shock and devastation. Her lips parted as though she wanted to call for you, to reach out. But the words never came.

Behind her, the Silver Knights burst into the clearing, weapons drawn, their silver-plated armor gleaming under the fractured light. Their stances were rigid, uncertain hesitating only because it was you standing there, not an enemy they had trained their entire lives to fight. And then, him. Elder Faerie Cookie emerged through the broken branches, his steps slower than the others, yet weighted with far greater burden. The glow of his magic flickered at his fingertips—restraint, control, hesitation. His face, usually composed with the wisdom of centuries, was stricken with something far worse than anger. Grief. His dark eyes, tired yet always carrying warmth, now held only sorrow as they met yours. His gaze did not waver. Not as he took in the ruined seal, the darkness coiling where it should not. Not as he saw the tears still fresh on your cheeks, the trembling in your hands. Not as the shape of Shadow Milk Cookie slithered into being, stepping forward from the tree’s base with a slow, unhurried grace. Still, Elder Faerie did not look away from you. “…You don’t understand what you’ve done.” His voice was quiet, yet it rang louder than any battle cry. You felt your throat tighten. Your wings curled in instinctively, a dull ache forming in your chest. You wanted to explain, to tell him it wasn’t-

Wasn’t what?

A mistake?

A betrayal?

Your lips parted, but no words came. Elder Faerie inhaled sharply, his expression contorting ever so slightly just for a moment. A glimpse of something deeper, something breaking. And yet, his voice remained steady. “I don’t want to use force against you,” he continued, the weight in his tone unshakable. “I won’t.” His hands clenched at his sides, his magic flickering in and out of existence. “You are” His voice caught. His breath trembled. Then, softer “You are my kin.” Your chest seized. Something cracked inside you at the way he said it like it hurt him to speak the words aloud. Behind him, the knights shifted, awaiting orders. White Lily Cookie took another hesitant step, her expression pleading. But none of them moved, watching as Elder Faerie stood at the center of it all, looking at you like you had just torn something precious from him.

Then, laughter. Slow, rich, and curling through the tension like a creeping shadow. Shadow Milk Cookie stepped forward, his grin a crescent moon against the dark. He swept his arms wide, his presence folding into the clearing like he had always belonged there. “Ah, what a performance,” he purred. His cyan and cerulean eyes gleamed, their slit pupils narrowing in satisfaction as he breathed in the broken seal’s remains. “The tension, the heartbreak… exquisite.” He hummed, tilting his head toward you ever so slightly. “And to think, you nearly hesitated.” Your stomach twisted. The Silver Knights raised their weapons. White Lily’s expression hardened. Elder Faerie’s magic pulsed at his fingertips. But none of them looked at you the way they once had. And the weight of that realization crushed you.

Your breath came in short, uneven gasps, the weight of their stares pressing down on you like the gnarled branches overhead. The Silver Tree loomed in the background, its glow flickering as though it, too, recoiled from what had just been done. The sacred carvings once etched into its bark were splintered, unraveling like threads in a tapestry. A cold wind rushed through the clearing, scattering silver leaves across the damp earth, as if mourning what had been lost. You could only mouth the words, the apologies too fragile to break past your lips. Elder Faerie’s expression remained carved from sorrow, lined with something deeper than grief, something unspoken, something irreparable. His hands trembled at his sides, his magic pulsing unevenly, as if fighting against his own instincts. He had always been a pillar of certainty, of unwavering devotion. But now, as he looked at you, his faith his belief in you seemed to crumble like brittle parchment. The Silver Knights did not lower their weapons.

White Lily Cookie, usually so soft, so full of understanding, could not even meet your gaze. Her hands tightened around her staff, her lips parting as if to speak but no words came. No one reached for you. No one stepped forward to catch you as the realization struck. They won’t forgive me. The ache in your chest spread like vines, constricting, suffocating. You turned, desperate, searching grasping for anything, for anyone. And there he was. Shadow Milk Cookie stood at your side, untouched by the grief that choked the air. The storm of magic and steel did not concern him, nor did the sorrowful weight of those you had abandoned. He stood at ease, a stark contrast to the chaos unfolding, his long, spindly frame stretched with an air of triumph. His cyan and cerulean eyes flicked toward you, glinting like glass caught in moonlight. His grin was ever-present, curling like smoke yet it lacked the sharp mockery you had come to expect. There was something else there now. Something watchful.

You searched his expression, hoping pleading for something. A sign that you had not just thrown yourself into the dark alone. “Shadow Milk,” you whispered, the name barely a breath, barely anything as you looked at him with wide, imploring eyes. Would he leave you too? Would he let you fall the moment he had what he wanted? Your fingers twitched at your sides, desperate to reach out, but you hesitated. You had no guarantee that his presence meant safety. That it meant belonging. And yet, he had to be better than the cold rejection waiting behind you. Didn’t he? Shadow Milk hummed, tilting his head as though considering you, your silent plea heavy in the space between you. Then, he moved. Not away. Not in mockery. He stepped closer. The cold of his presence brushed against your skin, curling around you in intangible tendrils, weaving through the air like a lingering promise. His voice, when he finally spoke, was quieter than before. Measured. Almost… gentle. “Now, now,” he murmured, his tone smooth as darkened silk. “Don’t tell me you regret it already.” You flinched, lips pressing together, shame curling tight in your stomach. His grin widened not cruelly, not cruel enough. His fingers ghosted near your shoulder, close but never touching. “You made your choice, little Faerie.” His voice dipped, coiling around you like a whisper of a song. “And I am not so unkind as to waste a gift.”

His heterochromatic gaze flickered, catching the dying light of the Silver Tree, and for the briefest of moments, something in them softened. “Come now,” he sighed, amused but not unkind. “If you must tremble, at least do so in the right arms.” His words wrapped around you, coaxing, offering, as if inviting you into the space he had carved beside him. And against all reason against the burning stares of those you had betrayed you wanted to. Just for him.

The moment shattered like brittle ice.

Elder Faerie Cookie let out a cry raw, grief-stricken, yet commanding, an order ringing through the clearing like the snap of a branch underfoot. “Now strike!” The Silver Knights lunged forward, their weapons glinting in the fractured glow of the tree, the wind howling as magic surged toward the intruder who had tainted this sacred place. White Lily Cookie gasped, stepping back in alarm, her fingers tightening around her staff as her lips formed silent protests, caught between duty and the horror of what was unfolding. The Silver Tree shuddered, its glow dimming further, a deep crack slithering up its bark like a festering wound. The air itself felt wrong off-balance as if the ancient power housed within was bleeding. Your heart clenched at the sound, at the sight at Elder Faerie’s expression, lined with sorrow, with the deep, unwavering hurt that cut deeper than any blade. You had seen him worn, weary from years of guardianship, but never like this. Never broken. And yet…

A weight lingered at your side, something warm despite its unnatural presence. Shadow Milk Cookie. He had not retreated, had not abandoned you the moment the battle had begun. He remained where he was, an unmoving pillar of shadow and silk, his stance almost lazy almost. His clawed fingers twitched at his sides, not in preparation to strike, but in thought, in restraint. He watched you, even as the Silver Knights bore down upon him, even as magic sparked through the air like embers in a dying fire. He grinned, not with sharp cruelty, but with something else something softer. “Oh, little Faerie,” he sighed, the words dripping with indulgent amusement. He tilted his head, eyes half-lidded as if humored by the very notion of this impending battle. “You look so tense.” The first blade swung. And missed. Shadow Milk moved like liquid shadow, slipping just out of reach, weaving between strikes with effortless grace. The Silver Knights struck again again flashes of silver and streaks of light filling the clearing. But he danced through it all, turning his evasion into a performance, his laughter light, teasing. “Is this any way to treat your guest?” he mused, flipping backward just as a blast of magic scorched the ground where he once stood. His coattails fluttered in the chaos, eyes glowing like twin stars in the growing darkness.

Your breath hitched. Despite the chaos, despite the battle, he was not afraid. And neither was he unkind. Amidst the storm of magic and steel, he still found the space, the patience, to turn to you. His voice dipped, curling around you like a whispered secret. “Don’t look so pained, dear one,” he murmured. “You’ve made your choice, haven’t you?” His eyes gleamed with something almost fond, almost sweet, like a cruel god offering comfort to his devoted. “And look at me I’m still here.” His voice curled, playful, coaxing. “You thought I’d run the moment my chains were broken?” A hum, a shake of his head. “You always find a way to wound me.” Your breath trembled, the ache in your chest twisting deeper. A part of you had thought that. That he would vanish like mist the moment he was free, leave you to the ruin you had wrought. But here he was, smiling down at you not with mockery, not with cruel amusement, but with something unbearably gentle. A Knight’s blade came too close, slicing through his shadowy form, but he did not falter. Instead, he sighed dramatically, swaying toward you as if seeking refuge. “Really, now this is all terribly unsportsmanlike. Did you really want me gone so soon after we were finally reunited?” Your heart twisted, confusion warring with something deeper, something warmer that you knew you should not allow yourself to feel.

He saw it. And he laughed. Not sharp, not cruel light, pleased, like a performer delighted by an audience’s reaction. “Ah, I see it now. You do care, don’t you?” He leaned closer, voice rich with delight. “What a relief. I was worried I might have to steal your heart properly.” Your pulse pounded against your ribs, breath catching. Elder Faerie’s voice cut through the storm of emotions, raw and desperate. “Step away from him!” Your hands trembled at your sides.

Shadow Milk, ever aware, caught the movement. His grin softened at the edges. “Come now, you’re shaking,” he purred, tilting his head. “Do you really want to stand among them, trembling like a caged bird?” A blade arced toward him once more. He swayed, sidestepping it with effortless grace, then extended a hand toward you. “Come.” His voice was honeyed, rich with promise. “Let’s make this something beautiful, shall we?” The air pulsed with magic, the tree’s glow flickering like a dying candle. Your heart ached. Elder Faerie’s expression was pleading, broken. The Silver Knights did not hesitate, did not waver. But Shadow Milk he was still here. Still offering. And you did not know whether the warmth in your chest was from fear, or from hope.

The battlefield slowed not in movement, but in weight, in intensity. The air was thick with the remnants of magic, the scent of earth scorched by stray spells, the flickering remnants of the Silver Tree’s glow casting long, stretching shadows across the clearing. The Silver Knights did not falter, their weapons held firm, their eyes locked onto Shadow Milk Cookie with unwavering resolve. Elder Faerie Cookie stood at the front, his expression carved from something heavier than stone, something far more fragile.

You stepped forward, your wings heavy with sorrow, your voice barely above a breath. “Please,” you whispered, reaching, pleading. “Let me speak with him.” Shadow Milk tilted his head, watching you with an unreadable expression. His fingers, once poised to weave the next illusion, relaxed at his sides. For all his teasing, for all his grand performances, he did not mock you now. There was no cruel amusement, no knowing smirk. Only quiet contemplation. Then, with a hum, he sighed. “Oh, little Faerie,” he mused, voice dipping into something almost affectionate. “You do ask for the strangest things.” A pause. Then, he waved a hand, lazy and indulgent. “Very well. Speak to him.” The battle did not resume. The Silver Knights shifted, uncertain, their weapons still drawn but unmoving. Elder Faerie’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, his grip on his staff tightening. “What trick is this?”

You swallowed, heart hammering in your chest. “No trick,” you answered, voice raw, fragile. “Just a request.” His gaze flickered between you and Shadow Milk, searching, wary. “And he allows it?” Shadow Milk let out an exaggerated sigh. “Must you sound so doubtful? Really, I’m starting to feel unappreciated.” He gave a dramatic flourish of his hands, shadowy tendrils curling at his fingertips. “If it means so much to my dear little guardian, then yes, I shall be merciful.” His gaze flickered toward you again, something softer lurking beneath his ever-present performance. “Just this once.” The words were meant to be playful, but there was weight to them. And Elder Faerie must have sensed it, for his expression changed not to relief, not to trust, but to something deeper. Something wounded. You took a shaky step closer. The world around you felt stretched thin, as if holding its breath. The glow of the Silver Tree barely flickered now, its roots tremoring beneath the weight of its fractured seal. The leaves had dulled, once vibrant silver now faded like an aging memory. Elder Faerie’s voice, when he spoke again, was heavy with grief. “Why?”

Your breath hitched. You knew what he meant. Not just why you had asked for this moment. Not just why you had turned to the one thing you were meant to guard against. But why you had chosen this path at all. Your fingers trembled at your sides. “I don’t know,” you admitted, voice cracking. “I-” You hesitated, looking down, shame curling deep in your chest. “I thought I could change something. I thought I could-” “Save him?” Elder Faerie’s voice was quiet, but it struck like a blade. You flinched. “Maybe,” you whispered. A silence settled between you, thick and suffocating. Elder Faerie let out a slow breath, his gaze flickering to the being at your side. “And what of the others?” His voice was lined with exhaustion. “The Beasts, the ones who were sealed away for a reason. Do you understand what you’ve done?” Your throat tightened. “I didn’t-I just-” A hand came to rest lightly on your shoulder. Shadow Milk. He leaned in slightly, his presence coiling around you like silk. “Now, now,” he murmured, voice honeyed. “You make it sound as though our dear Faerie has doomed you all.” He chuckled, the sound curling at the edges. “Have a little faith.” Elder Faerie’s eyes darkened. “Faith?”

Shadow Milk grinned, but there was something almost pleased about his expression. Not cruel, not mocking. Just satisfied. “I could have torn through your kingdom the moment I was free,” he mused, tracing idle patterns in the air, his shadows flickering against the dim light. “Could have left nothing but ruin in my wake.” His gaze flickered toward you, unreadable. “And yet, I did not.” A pause. Elder Faerie’s breath was unsteady. “You…” His brows furrowed, voice lowering. “Why?” Shadow Milk hummed, tilting his head. “Ah, now that is the question, isn’t it?” His fingers curled, magic shifting in the air like rippling water. “Shall I tell you, old one? Or shall I let you wonder, let you doubt?” His grin widened. “Oh, but you’re already doubting, aren’t you?” The air shimmered. Not with power. Not with violence. With uncertainty. It was not destruction that Shadow Milk wove into the kingdom. It was deceit. The Silver Knights stiffened as a wave of unease rippled through them, their confidence faltering. White Lily Cookie, who had remained silent, watching, suddenly stepped forward, her fingers tightening around her staff. “What are you doing?”

Shadow Milk’s gaze flickered to her, ever amused. “Simply honoring a request.” Your breath came short. He had listened. For all his cunning, for all his trickery, he had listened to you. No one had been harmed. No one had fallen. But the kingdom its certainty, its order that was what he had touched. Your heart ached, confusion swirling deep in your chest. Elder Faerie took a slow step forward, his expression unreadable. “And what do you gain from this?” Shadow Milk chuckled, gaze sliding back to you. His fingers trailed down your arm, light, barely there. “Why, isn’t it obvious?” His voice softened, yet it rang louder than anything else. “I’ve already won.” Your breath hitched. The Silver Tree stood behind you, cracked open, flickering weakly, but still standing. And yet, the world would never be the same again.

A/N I put a lot of effort into this so pls dont flop <3 /j

Let me get a hell yeah in the comments/j

#cr kingdom #crk #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #shadow milk #crk shadow milk cookie #shadow milk x reader #shadow milk crk #shmilk #smilk #shadow milk cookie crk #shadow milk cookie

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smystermy · 1 day ago

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𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬

tags: geto suguru x you; gojo satoru x you; set before the star plasma vessel incident; senpai x kouhai; Meddling with a capital M; Pining with a capital P; can this be called humor?; you might come across as a little too harsh towards both of them here—but honestly, you have every reason to be, especially towards geto.

warnings: Love Triangle. my sincerest apologies to all the satoru lovers out there (trust me, i’m one of you, too).

word count: 1270.

oneshot, loosely related to 'peel your heart like a pomegranate'.

You Should Have Known.

The moment Geto brought it up, you should have known.

He had been too casual—too smooth. His voice light, offhanded. “Hey, we should all go out this weekend. There’s this new ramen shop.”

And then Satoru.

Satoru, who never cared about ramen, who turned his nose up at anything that wasn’t a luxury dessert, suddenly lighting up like a damn Christmas tree.

“Ohhh?” he’d drawled, grinning like he already knew something you didn’t. “Sounds fun.”

That should have been your first clue.

Your second? Haibara, hesitating—hesitating—before mumbling, “Uh, I might be late.”

Your third? Nanami’s flat, deadpan stare when you asked if he was coming. A long, withering look, like you had just told him curses were actually friendly creatures.

And yet, despite all of that—despite all of that—you still walk into the ramen shop, completely, stupidly unaware.

The warmth hits you first.

The scent of simmering broth and charred chashu curls through the air, thick and inviting. There’s a soft hum of conversation, the occasional clatter of chopsticks against ceramic bowls. Lanterns hang low, casting a cozy golden glow over wooden tables. The whole place feels like an easy, familiar embrace—the kind of setting where you should be surrounded by friends, laughter, and the promise of a good meal.

Your eyes scan the room, already picturing it—Geto slouched comfortably in the corner, halfway through his bowl, Shoko sipping lazily at her drink, Nanami suffering in silence as Haibara chatters away.

But they’re not here.

Only one person is.

Gojo Satoru.

Relaxed. Smug. Sprawled out in the booth like he owns the place, one arm stretched lazily over the seat beside him. A glass of something overly sweet sits in front of him, condensation beading along the rim. He stirs it with a lazy flick of his wrist, too slow, like he’s waiting for the grand reveal.

Your stomach drops.

The betrayal settles in your bones, slow and seething.

Satoru's grin spreads the moment he sees you, pleased and lazy, like a cat watching a mouse step right into its trap.

“Oh?” His voice is sweet—too sweet. “Just the two of us? How romantic.”

You stop in your tracks.

The scent of rich broth suddenly feels cloying. The warmth of the shop, suffocating.

“Where,” you ask, voice dangerously calm, “is everyone?”

Satoru tilts his head, stretching out the moment, dragging it along like he’s savoring the slow unraveling of your patience.

“Well… Nanami got buried under paperwork.”

(Of course he did.)

“Haibara had some last-minute errand.”

(Suspicious.)

“Shoko fell asleep—”

(Reasonable, but still suspect.)

Your teeth grind. “And Geto-senpai?”

Satoru takes a long, deliberate sip of his drink. You swear he’s doing it just to annoy you, the straw making an obnoxiously slow slurp.

Finally—finally—he lowers the glass and smirks.

“Oh. Suguru? Yeah, something came up.”

Your hands curl into fists.

This. Was. A. Set-up.

A blatant, premeditated, ruthless set-up.

Your own friends, conspiring against you.

Satoru leans forward, propping his chin on one hand, voice light. “Well, since you’re already here, wanna join me?”

You turn on your heel and walk straight out the door.

“Oi—WAIT, WAIT, DON’T JUST LEAVE.”

You keep walking.

A second later, he’s in front of you, moving so fast it’s infuriating.

“Whoa, whoa, at least let me walk you back—”

“No.”

“Come on, don’t be like that.”

“No.”

“But we could—”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say.”

“I don’t care.”

Satoru groans, throwing his head back. “Why are you so mean to me?”

You whip around, pointing an accusing finger. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because I got TRICKED into coming here?”

He grins. “But Suguru’s good at playing a matchmaker, don’t you think?”

You glare. “For the last time, I’m not interested in you, Satoru.”

He staggers back like you’ve just stabbed him, one hand over his heart. “Wow. No need to break my heart in public.”

You shove past him, marching back to campus.

“Sweets—”

“Go AWAY, Satoru.”

“You’ll miss me when I’m gone~”

“I WON’T.”

You don’t stop to look back—he isn’t worth the reaction he’s hoping for. Instead, you storm straight toward school, frustration simmering under your skin.

Back at Tokyo Jujutsu High, you find Geto’s room to be way too peaceful.

Not for long.

The door slams open with enough force to shake the frame.

“GETO-SENPAI!”

Your voice cuts through the stillness like a whip, shattering the quiet serenity of his dorm.

And yet, Geto doesn’t even flinch.

No startled jump, no guilty expression—nothing.

Just a slow, lazy lift of his gaze, dark eyes brimming with calm amusement. He’s lounging on the floor, back against his bed, a book resting open in his hands. His sleeves are pushed up to his elbows, hair loosely tied back, posture completely at ease—like he’s been idly flipping through the pages for hours.

The nerve.

A single warm lamp flickers beside him, casting golden light over the room. Incense lingers in the air—lavender and sandalwood, mellow and grounding. A soft breeze drifts in through the slightly open window, ruffling the sheer curtains.

Everything is too perfect.

The peaceful glow. The relaxed air. His infuriating lack of concern.

Your blood boils.

Geto tilts his head, lips curling into an insufferable smirk.

“Oh?” He sounds far too entertained. Too knowing. “You’re back. How was your little date?”

Your rage explodes. “YOU SET ME UP.” You storm forward, each step sharp, pulse hammering in your ears. “I SWEAR TO THE HEAVENS, I WILL—”

Geto closes his book with an infuriatingly soft snap and rests his chin in his palm, elbow propped on his knee.

“Will what?” His voice is all silk and mischief.

Your eyes dart wildly around the room, desperate for something to throw—and then you see it. A paper fan, sitting neatly on his desk.

Before you can think—before he can stop you—you snatch it up and hurl it straight out the window. A soft flutter follows as it disappears into the night.

Geto watches it go.

Then, he blinks once. Slowly.

“…Was that necessary?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you snap, voice shaking slightly, hands curling into fists. “I thought we were playing ‘Ruin Each Other’s Lives’ since you seem to enjoy ruining mine.”

He chuckles, low and rich, completely unbothered. “Come on. It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

You glare. “You ABANDONED me. With SATORU.”

A lazy shrug. “He’s your childhood friend. You act like I threw you to the wolves.”

Your hands slam onto your hips.

“HE IS A WOLF. A VERY LOUD, FLIRTY, INSANELY IRRITATING WOLF.”

Geto leans back, stretching his arms over his head, expression mockingly thoughtful.

“But a charming one, don’t you think?”

Your jaw clenches. He doesn’t get it. He never does. And you can’t tell him why.

Because it isn’t just about Satoru—it’s about him. About how Geto, the only guy you’ve ever felt something real for, thought you belonged with his best friend instead. Like he’d never even considered himself an option. Like he didn’t even see you that way. Like you never even had a chance.

And that—that hurts more than anything.

You inhale sharply, forcing your voice steady. “Promise me you’ll never do this again.”

Geto’s lips twitch. “Hmm. Define ‘promise.’”

That’s it. Your patience snaps. Your gaze locks onto something else—a cigarette lighter.

His favorite cigarette lighter.

For the first time tonight, he reacts. Shoulders tensing, teasing smirk faltering just slightly.

“Hey—WAIT.”

Too late. You snatch it up and hurl it out the window.

Silence.

The night wind drifts in, cool against your skin. Geto exhales—deep, slow, measured.

Then—

“…You’re really on a roll tonight, huh?”

general masterlist || geto suguru masterlist || gojo satoru masterlist

#dividers by @saradika-graphics #geto x you #geto x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk x you #jjk x reader #[my posts: gojo satoru]#[my posts: geto suguru]

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luxerians · 2 days ago

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The Last Mask (21)

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

Chapter 21 - Surrender

Story Masterlist

NEXT : Chapter 22

PREV : Chapter 20.1

[Hwang In-ho’s Flashback…]

“Once the lights go out, people on the other side will attack us,” informed Gi-hun.

Finally, In-ho thought. This was the moment he’d been waiting for – when the masks of caring and kindness would drop and desperation would drag out the raw, selfish instincts buried within every human.

He glanced at you, watching your face pale as you gaped at Gi-hun. The wide-eyed shock, the flicker of fear – it was all too telling. You didn’t expect this.

Yong-sik’s voice quivered as he asked, “Really?”

Gi-hun nodded solemnly. “Because if they kill us, they’ll be able to win the vote and increase the prize.”

Yong-sik’s next words practically trembled with panic. “So what do we do?”

In-ho spoke up without hesitation, “Let’s attack them first.”

He didn’t miss the sharp look Gi-hun shot him, surprise flickering behind the man’s usual stoicism. It was as if Gi-hun didn’t expect someone like In-ho, calm, wise, seemingly rational, to propose something so brutal.

But In-ho met his gaze steadily and continued, “They’re probably thinking we’ll just wait for the second vote. We can use that to our advantage. We’ll attack them first once the lights go out.”

Player 047 quickly voiced his support. “That’s right. It’d be better to attack them first. We have more women and elderly on our side. If we get attacked, we’ll be at a disadvantage. Attacking them first would give us a better chance of winning.”

Player 145 nodded, his voice grim. “I agree.”

In-ho swept his gaze over the circle of players. No one objected. Of course not. When survival was on the line, no one ever wanted to be the one left defenseless. Even the quiet ones and those who hesitated would follow when the alternative was death.

Plus, if everyone gets to leave, Gi-hun’s entire plan to sabotage this game would end in failure too. In-ho wouldn’t have to play this double role anymore. The games would continue next year, this time without Gi-hun’s interference standing in the way.

But then Gi-hun’s voice cut through the agreement like a knife. “We can’t do that.”

The silence was immediate. In-ho locked eyes with him again, widening his eyes ever so slightly, as if trying to get him to realize something.

“But we have to get out of here,” In-ho said, injecting confusion and hidden frustration into his voice. “You said it yourself. Staying calm won’t get us anywhere now.”

Gi-hun remained undeterred. “That doesn’t mean we should kill each other. That’s exactly what they want us to do.”

Jung-bae asked questioningly. “They?”

Gi-hun’s eyes scanned the group before he replied, “The ones who created this game. The ones who watch us play. If we’re going to fight someone, it should be them.”

Bold. Stupid. But bold, In-ho mused.

Dae-ho frowned. “Where are they?”

Gi-hun’s gaze lifted upward. Instinctively, everyone followed his line of sight, heads tilting toward the unreachable heights above. In-ho did the same but only for appearance's sake. He already knew exactly what was up there. He’d spent enough time behind those very walls.

His gaze dropped back to Gi-hun, his face the perfect mask of dark realization and tension. Is this his plan?

“On the upper levels are the rooms they control the games from,” Gi-hun continued confidently. “The man in the black mask is their leader. Once we capture him, we’ll be able to win.”

The irony of the moment wasn’t lost on In-ho. Gi-hun was talking about the masked leader, the mastermind behind it all – without realizing that the very man he wanted to overthrow was sitting right in front of him. In-ho, the one in disguise, the one pulling the strings, was right there, hidden in plain sight.

Nevertheless, In-ho stayed quiet, his gaze locked onto Gi-hun with an almost calculating patience. This was exactly what he had been waiting for – the moment when Gi-hun would finally reveal his plan to dismantle the entire game management. And now, Gi-hun had spilled it, right to the man he was aiming to destroy.

Still, In-ho could easily spot the problems in Gi-hun’s plan. It felt rushed and made out of pure emotion instead of careful thinking. It was like a last-minute attempt to go after something huge, without really understanding how risky it was.

That's when you spoke up, “Are you saying you plan to overthrow this whole management?”

There was something in your tone – a mix of disbelief and curiosity – that made him glance at you a beat longer than necessary.

Gi-hun’s determined, grave eyes locked onto yours. “Yes.”

The room plunged into a heavy silence. In-ho could sense the weight of his words sinking into everyone. The enormity of the plan hung in the air like a storm cloud.

In-ho broke the silence, speaking calmly yet there was an edge in his tone and face. “How are you going to fight them? They have guns.”

Gi-hun didn’t hesitate. “We’ll fight them with guns too.”

“But we don’t have any,” Jung-bae chimed in.

Gi-hun turned to him, unflinching. “We’ll take their guns.”

Jung-bae stared, caught between shock and exasperation. Gyeong-seok hesitated, then asked for certainty. “From those masked men?”

Gi-hun gave a single, firm nod.

“That’s too dangerous,” In-ho interjected, letting just enough caution seep into his tone. He needed to play this carefully to convince Gi-hun to rethink this. “Even if we manage to take a few guns, we’ll still be outnumbered.”

Gi-hun didn’t back down. “What then? Are you going to kill each other all night and hope you survive?”

In-ho froze.

Gi-hun pressed further. “Is that what you want, Young-il?”

In-ho didn’t answer. He kept his dark, contemplative gaze fixed on Gi-hun. It was at that moment In-ho noticed something else - Gi-hun had changed. Whether for the better, the worse, or exactly as In-ho had expected, he wasn’t sure. But the shift was undeniable.

“Do we…” Hyun-ju’s voice broke the tension, “...stand a chance?”

Gi-hun’s gaze shifted to her. His determination never wavered. “We do if we catch them off guard. Out of everyone, they’re the ones who would least expect us to attack first. This is our last chance to end these games once and for all.”

In-ho kept the act intact as he asked, “How are you going to take their guns?”

Gi-hun scowled, his mind clearly racing. “Once the fight begins tonight, we’ll have our chance.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, everyone waiting for him to elaborate.

“When the lights go out, get under the bottom beds quietly. You must not get caught by those planning to attack us. We have to hide until the fight ends.”

In-ho's gaze turned dark. Hide? That’s your plan? And let the rest of the X players not in this group get ambushed?

“Don’t get caught up in the fight,” Gi-hun added firmly.

“What?” you interjected out of the blue, your voice sharp with frustration.

In-ho looked at you right away. He was intrigued by your reaction, knowing how consistently kind you had been towards other players. Would you challenge this plan? Or would you, like so many others, choose self-preservation and let others fend for themselves?

In-ho knew this would be the moment when your true nature revealed itself. Was your kindness genuine or merely a fragile façade, easily cracked under pressure?

Jung-bae then echoed the unspoken concern. “But that would put people on our side at quite a disadvantage. Without us in the fight, they’ll be outnumbered.”

In-ho watched Gi-hun carefully, waiting for the hero's justification.

“I know,” Gi-hun said, his eyes flicking between you and Jung-bae before shifting to the rest of the group. “But if we fight with them and some of us end up dead or injured, it will ruin our entire plan. We can’t beat those bastards with a lower headcount.”

In-ho's gaze darkened as he realized something. “Are you suggesting that... we make a small sacrifice for the greater good?”

Gi-hun’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t flinch. His eyes locked with In-ho’s, reading the weight behind the question. Yet, he still nodded.

“If we miss this opportunity, the sacrifice will be even greater,” Gi-hun replied, voice thick with resolve. “Even if it takes a sacrifice, we must put an end to this game now.”

In-ho’s gaze dropped to the floor, his jaw clenching. He felt the bitter irony sting at the back of his throat. How poetic, he mused. The so-called hero willing to let others bleed for his vision of the greater good.

In-ho recognized Gi-hun’s desperation – not just to defy the management, but to prove something deeper, something personal. Gi-hun was fighting back to show that he wouldn’t become what the game wanted him to be. Yet, the irony wasn’t lost on In-ho. In trying so hard to resist the system, Gi-hun was playing right into its hands.

In-ho's lips twitched, the faintest shadow of a disbelieving smile, before he forced it down. He realized in this moment, that all this time, before this, he was silently rooting for Gi-hun. Not because he believed in him, but because there was a part of him that wanted to be proven wrong. Just like Gi-hun had once proven Oh Il-nam wrong, In-ho wondered if he could do the same for him. To prove that humanity still had something worth fighting for. That someone could stop this entire game and still walk away with their soul intact. But now, he knew the answer.

Gi-hun, the so-called hero, was willing to let others die for his plan – a sacrifice for what he called the greater good. Isn’t this exactly what the game is about? In-ho mused darkly. Sacrificing the ‘trashes’, letting only one stand victorious. The world out there no longer have to deal with those 455 trashes who got eliminated. Gi-hun hadn’t broken the cycle; he had fallen into its trap.

If Gi-hun continued with this kind of view, he could become the very role he despised, becoming the next Front Man. It was ironic, almost poetic. In his fight to dismantle the system, Gi-hun was unknowingly positioning himself to inherit it, repeating the same cycle he swore to end.

Gi-hun pressed on. “Once the lights come on, the soldiers will come to settle the situation. They’ll try to break up the fight first. They won’t pay attention to the dead. They will scan our trackers to identify us. That’ll be our window.”

In-ho barely heard the next words over the building tension, until your voice broke through, sharp and angry. “Are you really going to leave our allies like that?”

Every head turned to you. In-ho's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his features. His dark gaze brightened, an unexpected spark of curiosity igniting as he studied you.

“You’re telling me you’d hide under the bed and let the O players attack everyone in this zone? All for your plan?” you countered in a heated tone.

For the first time, Gi-hun faltered, the iron in his expression cracking just for a moment. But then the walls slammed back into place, and his face stiffened into resolve.

“This is the only chance we have. Once this game is stopped, this game will no longer use us as pawns,” he said.

In-ho’s gaze flicked to you again, studying the frustration burning behind your eyes.

“If I weren’t close to your group or involved with any of you, would I even know about this attack? Would you warn me?” your voice rose, the emotion cracking through your words. “Would I be left to fend for myself against an ambush while you and the others hide?”

A flicker of intrigue deepened in In-ho’s gaze. He noticed how fiercely determined you were to challenge Gi-hun’s plan, driven not by self-preservation but by a rare, precious sense of kindness. You really care about them all, In-ho thought, unlike the others here who remained quiet and agreed with Gi-hun's reckless plan.

Gi-hun’s jaw clenched, the pressure mounting. “It’s not about leaving anyone behind. It’s about ending this game once and for all.”

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t help our people now,” you shot back. “We have to fight back, not just accept them as inevitable.”

In-ho felt a sharp tug of interest. You weren’t playing the same game as Gi-hun, weren’t blinded by some self-righteous end goal. You saw the people around you as it is – people with family and lives.

But will that kindness survive when the lights go out? he wondered.

Gi-hun’s brows furrowed, his voice rising in frustration. “Do you think it’s better to retaliate and play into their hands? Attacking back is exactly what they want. They want us to kill each other. To entertain them.”

Undeterred, you spoke up, “We’re not going to kill them. We will defend ourselves. We can alert our people about the attack. Get them prepared. Get them to a safe spot where capable men can protect them. If needed, we can subdue the O players without bloodshed.”

Gi-hun faltered, your words cutting through his confidence. But, as always, he clung to his plan. “If we join the fight and lose even a few, it will ruin our chances of overthrowing this game. We must preserve all the best men we have right now.”

You didn’t back down. “Then we have to join the fight. Defend without bloodshed. Defend as a team. If we join the fight, more capable men will survive the ambush. They will join you willingly.”

In-ho studied you carefully, a flicker of something deeper sparking within him. There it was again. That unwavering kindness, that relentless fairness, that loyalty that refused to bend, even here. In this brutal place, where humanity was stripped bare, your kindness still burned bright.

While Gi-hun had crumbled, you stood firm. It was you – not Gi-hun – who defied his cynical belief in humanity’s rot. And in that moment, as he watched you push back against Gi-hun’s cold logic, In-ho felt it again – a spark of admiration. He should feel bitter at being proven wrong, but he liked it.

Still, he must wait until the lights go out.

Gi-hun stared at you, and for once, he had no response. His jaw tensed, his mouth opened slightly as if to argue but nothing came out. The group sat in thick, uncomfortable silence.

You rose to a crouching position, your focus never leaving Gi-hun. “Go ahead with your plan. I’m not stopping you. If you don’t want to join the fight, that’s fine. But the others deserve to know about the attack.”

The weight of your words lingered in the air as you stood fully, turned on your heel, and walked toward the other X players, ready to warn them, to prepare them.

In-ho’s gaze followed you, a sharp curiosity burning behind his eyes. You’re willing to risk everything. Not for some grand victory, but just to protect the people around you.

For a moment, In-ho felt the strong urge to follow you. To watch you closely, to see if your kindness was truly as genuine as it appeared. But he stopped himself. He turned his focus to Gi-hun. The latter was staring in the direction where you had left. He looked conflicted. He looked like he wanted to say more, to justify his plan, but the words caught in his throat.

In-ho’s gaze shifted, catching the subtle ripple through the group. Your words had landed deeper than he expected. The others seemed to have snapped out of whatever spell Gi-hun’s logic had placed them under. Yong-sik’s mother and Jun-hee watched you from a distance, their worry etched deep in their expressions. Gyeong-seok and Hyun-ju were on the verge of standing up. Dae-ho and Jung-bae exchanged uncertain glances.

You, your thoughtfulness and your kindness managed to sway them more than Gi-hun ever did.

In-ho seized the moment, staring darkly at the speechless Gi-hun. “Rethink your plan, Gi-hun. I know you’re angry at the game makers and that you’re still grieving your friends from the last game, but don’t lose sight of the people here too. They’re counting on you.”

Gi-hun didn’t respond right away. His jaw tensed, the inner turmoil clear but there was something in In-ho’s words that anchored him, pulling him back from his tunnel vision.

With that, In-ho stood up. Without another word, he left the circle, his eyes locked on where you had disappeared. Player 047 and 145 followed him immediately. Gyeong-seok and Hyun-ju exchanged a look before standing too, clearly choosing to follow where you had gone. In-ho didn’t look back but he could feel the balance tipping away from Gi-hun’s plan and toward something else entirely.

In-ho watched you as you moved between the beds, warning other X players about the danger. He noticed how determined you looked, how focused you were. But you were alone and that was enough for him to step in.

He walked over quietly and placed a hand on your shoulder.

You jumped a little, spinning around fast. But when you saw it was him, you relaxed, though you were still catching your breath.

“How many people have you warned?” In-ho asked gently.

“A couple,” you answered.

Before he could say anything else, more footsteps approached. Gyeong-seok, Hyun-ju, player 047, and player 145 came over, gathering around you. Their eyes shifted between you and In-ho, waiting to hear what to do next.

“What else can we do?” Gyeong-seok asked, his voice serious.

You answered quickly, “Warn all the X players if you can. Tell them we’re only defending ourselves, not attacking. Make sure they hold onto their forks and water bottles to use as protection. Get the women and older people to safer spots, under the stairs, or near the walls. And before the Os attack, have them hide under the beds for more safety.”

In-ho raised an eyebrow, impressed by your quick thinking. It made him want to help you more. “We should also have some people guarding those spots. We need to make sure someone’s watching over them during the attack.”

“Got it. I’ll take the left side of the zone,” Hyun-ju said right away.

Player 047 pointed to the right. “We’ll cover this side. Let’s keep it quiet so the Os don’t figure out what we’re doing.”

They split up, leaving you and In-ho standing there. His hand stayed on your shoulder for a moment longer, steady but gentle.

“You’ve done enough,” he said softly. “Now go find two beds next to each other. One for you, one for me.”

He saw it in your eyes. You understood exactly what he was doing. He wanted to stay close, to watch over you when the chaos started, to guide you, maybe even protect you.

***

“Lights out in ten seconds.”

In-ho lay flat on his back, the thin blanket pulled casually over his chest. His gaze traced the high ceiling, his mind already calculating the next moves. You were on the bed right beside him. He could sense the tension in the way you lay still. Alert and waiting.

“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.”

Darkness swallowed the dormitory, leaving only the faint glow of the O and X lights on the floor. The piggy bank light was dark tonight. A small twist for effect done intentionally, In-ho mused.

He didn’t move yet. But from the corner of his eye, he saw you slip quietly out of bed. You weren’t the only one. Other figures – women, elderly – moved through the shadows, hurrying to hide beneath beds or shuffle toward safer spots.

You crawled under your bed, positioning yourself carefully. In-ho stayed where he was, eyes closed now, feigning sleep. It was the perfect bait.

In a few seconds, loud and fast footsteps echoed through the dormitory, growing closer as the ill-intent O players approached the X zone. In-ho could almost feel the adrenaline spike before the chaos erupted.

The silence shattered by heavy footsteps, metal scraping, and the first shrieks of panic. In-ho didn’t even have to open his eyes to know that it had begun. Then, he felt it. Someone was lunging for him.

In-ho snapped into motion, grabbing his blanket and yanking it around the attacker’s neck. The O player barely had time to react before he was pulled hard, the blanket tightening like a noose, his body jerked against the bed’s metal frame. A clean, swift maneuver. The attacker struggled as In-ho tied him to the railing.

Screams erupted across the dormitory – raw, human, desperate.

In-ho sat up, his calm broken only by the sharp flicker of the dormitory lights as they began to pulse erratically. Bright. Dark. Bright. Dark. With each flash, he caught snapshots of the chaos. X players grappling with O attackers, beds flipping, shadows lunging with glinting forks.

A loud thud yanked his attention back.

A body hit the floor right beside your hiding spot. In-ho’s gaze dropped to it. It was a fallen O player, groaning, clutching his arm where a shard of glass was lodged deep into his flesh.

He cast a glance under your bed, watching as you tensed, but stayed hidden. Smart. But there was fire in your eyes. He could see it even now. You wouldn’t sit still for long.

And he was right. You didn’t stay under the bed for long.

The moment you noticed X women being cornered by O players, you bolted out from your hiding spot. No hesitation. No second-guessing. You sprinted toward them, leaving the safety of the shadows behind. You didn’t even glance back to see if In-ho was following. You didn’t care about the odds or the danger. You cared about saving them.

Reckless, In-ho thought, rising from his position and following close behind. But kind. Genuinely kind.

It was that rare kind of kindness that burned too bright in a place like this. Selfless, dangerous, but undeniably real. He found himself watching you more than the enemies, waiting for the moment when that kindness would finally crack under pressure. But it didn’t.

And he didn’t let you fall.

Every time an O player lunged your way, In-ho was there, intercepting the attack. Every time a broken glass bottle or a fork came close, he blocked it.

Then, chaos brought you both face-to-face with six O players, their forks raised, teeth gritted. In-ho didn’t think. He grabbed you and pulled you behind him, shielding you with his entire body as he backed you against a wall.

No one’s getting through me to her, he thought grimly.

In-ho swiftly subdued five of the six attackers without any bloodshed, just like you wanted. The last one staggered to strike, but before In-ho could finish him off, Gi-hun intervened, his blow knocking the man unconscious. It was timely, but entirely unnecessary.

His dark eyes flicked to Gi-hun, studying him. Something had shifted. This wasn’t the Gi-hun who’d planned to hide while the Os attack the other X players. No, this was the Seong Gi-hun in 2020 who couldn’t stop himself from interfering, from saving everyone he could.

You changed him, In-ho realized. You reverted him to the man who tried to save everyone no matter how doomed the effort.

It was ironic. Gi-hun was supposed to be the one proving In-ho wrong. Instead, it was you – your stubborn, your naivety, your relentless kindness – that was doing it.

***

The brief but intense shootout between In-ho, Gi-hun, Hyun-ju, and the remaining capable players against the pink guards ended in their victory.

In-ho remembered during the shootout that the pink guards were caught off guard by him fighting alongside the players. Their hesitation was thick with disbelief. They expected him to drop the act right then, to step forward as the Front Man and end this charade.

Not yet, In-ho thought. I still have work to do.

He needed to stay embedded within Gi-hun’s plan, to sabotage it from the inside. But more than that, his gaze drifted briefly to you. We’re not finished. Not yet.

A furious yell snapped him out of his thoughts. “You goddamn bastards!”

In-ho’s head jerked toward the sound. Player 047 stood with his MP5 raised, his face twisted in rage. Five O players stood before him, their hands thrown high in surrender, eyes wide with fear.

But before a shot could be fired, Gi-hun sprinted into the scene. He grabbed the barrel of 047’s gun and shoved it downward. “No!”

“Move!” 047 barked, struggling against Gi-hun’s grip. “Do you not see this?!”

In-ho followed his gaze. Blood smeared across the floor, bodies crumpled like discarded toys. The dormitory had become a graveyard of greed and desperation.

“They are not human,” 047 spat, voice trembling. “They’re vermin, blinded by money!”

He raised his weapon again, fury crackling off him in waves.

But Gi-hun didn’t flinch. He gripped the gun tighter, locking eyes with 047. “This is not why we took these guns. If we do this, we’re no better than the masked men.”

In-ho watched intently, his gun resting against his abdomen, though his focus was far from idle. From the corner of his eye, he noticed you approaching, your eyes darting between Gi-hun and player 047. In-ho’s dark, contemplative gaze didn’t waver from the two men locked in their standoff.

047’s grip on the MP5 finally slackened. His teeth clenched, his face a twisted mask of rage and grief, but he lowered the weapon. His shoulders sagged with defeat, the fight draining out of him.

Gi-hun gave him a solid pat on the shoulder before he turned and walked toward the center of the dormitory, raising his voice above the low hum of scattered whispers.

“Everyone! Don’t be scared. Gather round, please!”

The command echoed through the space, pulling X and O players out from hiding.

In-ho didn’t move. His gaze remained fixed on Gi-hun, his face an unreadable mask hiding a storm of irritation. The hypocrisy was hard to ignore. Gi-hun now stood there, posturing as the leader, the savior of the players, when not long ago, he had been perfectly willing to sacrifice others for the so-called greater good.

How convenient, In-ho thought bitterly. First, he's okay with hiding under beds and letting others take the hit, and now he acts like a brave leader? It annoyed him. Gi-hun's idea of being a hero was full of contradictions, and In-ho wasn’t fooled for a second.

“Young-il, you okay?”

Your voice cut through the lingering tension, soft but laced with concern. In-ho shifted his gaze toward you, his cold, calculated mask softening like ice melting under the sun. His sharp eyes scanned you, checking for injuries or anything out of place.

Once he ensured you were unharmed, a smile stretch across his face, warm and disarming. “I’m okay. How about you?”

Before you could answer, he lifted his left hand and placed it gently on your head. He felt the way you stiffened – surprised – before your cheeks flushed. You nodded, voice soft, almost shy. “I’m fine.”

The reaction tugged at something unexpected inside him. His smile widened as he brushed his hand through your messy hair, smoothing it down before tucking a stray strand behind your ear. It was a simple act, but the way you smiled back, soft and genuine, sent a ripple through him.

Withdrawing his hand, he returned both to his gun, resting it easily but alert. But he couldn’t shake the pull of curiosity.

“Where did you learn to use a pistol?” he asked, his tone light but intrigued.

“Oh,” you said, patting your pocket where the weapon was tucked. “I bought one after… the loan sharks attacked my parents.”

In-ho’s smile faded instantly. He locked eyes with you, something heavier slipping into his gaze. “Have you ever used it before?”

Your gaze dropped to the floor, hesitation thick between the words. “I have. I was scared.”

There was a rawness to your voice, enough to pull his focus deeper.

“They stalked me at my part-time job,” you admitted, your voice trembling with the weight of the memory. “They threatened me, said they’d… hurt me if I didn’t pay up. I didn’t think they’d wait for my shift to end, but they did. They followed me home.”

Something dark stirred within In-ho. Anger, sharp and biting, clawing its way to the surface. It wasn’t anger at you, but at the world that forced you into that situation.

“They chased me through alleyways,” you continued, “but I got lucky. Before they could grab me, I managed to pull the pistol and I… I shot them.”

You were kind, too kind. And bastards like those loan sharks took advantage of that. But they didn't know you were prepared for self-defense.

You didn’t look at him as you spoke. You didn’t need to. In-ho could feel the weight of your words. The fear, the survival instinct, the guilt tangled in it all.

He stayed silent, not out of judgment, but because he wasn’t sure what the right words would even be. You did what you had to do, he thought. But saying it aloud? It didn’t feel right.

“Then I ran to the subway,” you added quietly, your voice thinner now. “That’s where I met a man in a suit. He asked me to play Ddakji with him.”

The recruiter, In-ho realized. Of course.

The memory lingered, thick in the air between you. He could see how deeply it still clawed at you, but you tried to mask it, chuckling weakly.

“Now, I’m here. I didn’t think I’d be fighting for my life here too. But at least… well, I hope I’ll survive and go home with a share of the prize money.”

In-ho studied you for a beat longer. There was no mask here. No act from him. Just raw hope, frayed around the edges but still burning.

“You will,” he said softly.

For the first time since he stepped into this place, In-ho felt something felt it. A hope for a player to survive. He wanted you to walk out of here unscathed, prize money in hand, free from the cruelty that had swallowed so many before. You deserved that much. In a world rotten at its core, you were like a rare bloom pushing through concrete. Fragile, yet stubbornly alive.

This realization stirred something deeper, darker within him. His admiration for your kindness had evolved into something more potent, more dangerous. Seeing your raw, selfless nature untouched by the corruption around you made it harder for him to fight the growing infatuation. And for once, it felt less like a crime to let himself feel it. It felt safe to love you because he knew you cared for him too and that you would never disappoint him.

“You will survive,” In-ho said again, nodding slightly, the words almost foreign on his tongue. “Those loan sharks won’t trouble you anymore once you leave this place.”

He watched as you offered a small, warm smile, your shoulders easing for the first time in what felt like forever. His words had actually soothed you.

But then, you lifted your gaze back to him, and your next words hit him harder than he expected.

“You will survive too,” you said, your tone filled with quiet conviction. “You must survive this place too. You must win this game again and… maybe we can meet up outside...?”

Your voice faltered slightly at the end, uncertainty bleeding through, but the sincerity was unmistakable. In-ho blinked, momentarily caught off guard. For a split second, his mind short-circuited.

You want to see me again? he thought. He wasn’t used to this. To someone caring, without an ulterior motive.

But the pause lasted only a breath before he pulled himself together. He smiled – a small but genuine one – and let out a quiet chuckle, glancing at the floor to hide the flicker of something warmer in his eyes. Then, stepping closer, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, guiding you forward.

“Of course,” he said, voice softer than he intended. Then, as if the thought had just struck him, he added, “Why don’t we set up a meeting place now?”

You froze for a beat, your wide eyes locking onto his, before your expression broke into something lighter – almost hopeful.

“Now?” you asked, half-laughing in disbelief.

He nodded, his grip still gentle but firm around your shoulders. “Yeah. Time and place.”

You hesitated, clearly caught off guard, but after a few moments, you glanced up at him, determination creeping into your features.

“How about Seonyudo Park?” you suggested.

A soft chuckle escaped In-ho before he could stop it. “Oh, that one park with the bridge where you can look out over the Han River?”

You nodded, visibly nervous, but he could see the hope shining behind your eyes. He tilted his head, pretending to think it over, although in truth, he’d already decided.

“Sure,” he finally agreed, locking eyes with you again. “When do you want to meet?”

You hesitated before blurting out, “One month after we leave?”

In-ho blinked, your suggestion catching him off guard again. One month? What's with that big time period?

You rushed to explain, “It’ll give us time to heal and sort things out. But if one month is too long, I’m fine with sooner – maybe one or two weeks?”

But In-ho shook his head, a real smile creeping onto his face. “One month it is. Seonyudo Park, a month after we’re out. Around sunset? The view’s amazing at that time.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, smiling now too. “That sounds perfect.”

Perfect, In-ho echoed in his mind, though the word tasted strange. Hopeful. It was a dangerous emotion. And yet, he didn’t hate it.

As you smiled at him, something heavy and unfamiliar twisted in In-ho’s chest. It wasn’t just admiration anymore – this was deeper. Every soft glance you gave him, every hesitant yet hopeful word, was tightening the hold you unknowingly had on him.

He’d spent years building walls so high nothing could get through. But you? You’d somehow slipped past every defense without even trying. Your kindness, your resilience, the way you still held onto hope in a place designed to crush it. It pulled at something he thought had died long ago.

A small smile lingered on his lips as he watched you look away, clearly flustered. He found himself wanting more of that – to see you smile like that again, to be the reason for it.

Not only that. He found himself anticipating your upcoming meeting. He felt normal – like a man anxiously overthinking about his upcoming date with someone he’s been looking for for years. He no longer felt like a husk of man. He had a purpose now – to pursue a life with you outside this island.

***

[Back to present…]

You kept your eyes fixed on the television, watching the live feeds of the current game. The players had finished selecting their gumballs, and it wasn’t until they grouped into their assigned teams that you noticed it – player 100, the greedy old man, was on the same red team as Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Jun-hee, and Yong-sik’s mother.

Your stomach twisted. That's not good.

Even worse, Thanos’ deranged old friend, player 124, had also landed on the red team.

But then your gaze flicked to the blue team. Player 226 – player 100’s most loyal lapdog – stood stiffly with them. You could sense the frustration simmering beneath the surface of his face. The separation between him and player 100 wasn’t sitting well with him.

You noticed your fellow friends were already on edge, and Jun-hee’s frown deepened as her gaze locked onto player 100. You could practically read her thoughts. She hadn’t forgotten how vocal he’d been during her labor.

The tension didn’t last long. Triangle-masked guards then motioned for the players to move. The players were led out of the room and into the next game’s location.

You watched as the cameras shifted into another massive room. The floor stretched out in a massive expanse, either painted or pasted over with a giant image of white and orange flowers arranged in circular patterns, each ring drawing closer to the center. This room looked more like a surreal park playground. Scattered around the corners were pieces of park equipments: a colourful swing set, a metal slide, and colorful merry-go-rounds.

Suddenly, the announcer’s voice echoed through the massive space. “Welcome to your fifth game. The game you will be playing is Why Did You Come to My House.”

The players exchanged tense glances, some frowning deeply as they recognized the title right away. Gi-hun’s jaw tensed. Jun-hee glanced at Yong-sik’s mother with concern, while Dae-ho visibly swallowed hard, his face pale.

The announcer continued. “All players have been split into two teams. At the start, one player from each team will compete in rock-paper-scissors to determine which team attacks first.

“The two teams will form parallel lines, standing hand-in-hand. The game begins with the defending team moving forward, singing the first line of the song. The attacking team will step back. Then, the attackers will step forward, singing the next line. This continues until the defenders ask, ‘Which flower?’ Each player in the attacking team will then point at a player from the defending side. The targeted player will be determined based on the majority votes.

“The mentioned player and an attacker will face off in rock-paper-scissors. The loser will be immediately eliminated. The rounds will continue until one team loses all its players.”

The announcement ended, leaving only a chilling silence.

Gi-hun’s friends exchanged glances. You realized then that Jun-hee must have told them about the game. None of them looked surprised but it still pressed down heavily on them. Knowing what was coming hadn’t eased the fear. If anything, it made the hopelessness clearer.

They were separated by half into opposite teams. They would be forced to play against each other.

Gi-hun stood quietly, his brows furrowed deeply as he stared at the ground, lost in thought. You could see it in his eyes – he was already trying to figure out a plan. A loophole. Something. Anything that could get them all out of this alive.

Seeing that the game hadn’t started yet, your friends on the blue team moved toward Gi-hun and the others. Dae-ho looked the worst of them all. His face was pale, his hands shaking as he wrung them nervously. His eyes darted between his friends, searching for answers.

“There’s gotta be a trick, right?” Dae-ho stammered, his voice thin with panic. “Some kind of loophole that’ll let us all make it through? We can’t j-just play this straight!”

Gi-hun didn’t answer. His jaw was clenched tightly as he stared down at the floor, lost in thought or maybe just lost in the hopelessness of it all. The silence dragged on, heavy and suffocating.

Dae-ho’s panic grew. He turned toward Jung-bae, calling him along with his ‘hyungnim’ honorifics. “Right, Jung-bae? There’s gotta be a way, right?”

Jung-bae hesitated. His eyes locked onto Dae-ho’s trembling figure, and for a moment, he looked as lost as the rest of them. Then he forced a wide, playful smile. It seemed clearly exaggerated, but laced with forced optimism. He even chuckled lightly, trying to ease the tension.

“Of course,” Jung-bae replied, nodding. “There must be a way. We just have to look for it. It’s not gonna hurt to try something, right?”

Dae-ho let out a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging slightly in relief at the small sliver of hope.

Hyun-ju, ever the calm one, stepped forward, her arms crossed as she looked over both teams. “What if we just… avoid targeting each other?”

She paused as her friends turned their gaze onto her. She glanced at each of them as she continued, “Like, you guys in red team avoids targeting us from the blue team. And us from the blue team does the same.”

Jung-bae perked up at that. “Oh, that’s possible! That way, we can at least hold off eliminating each other.”

But Myung-gi quickly shook his head. “That won’t last. The other players will do the same for their friends.”

“Then it’s not just the other team we have to worry about,” Se-mi spoke up, forcing a wry smile. “We’ll be fighting our own teammates too. That’s where things get ugly.”

Jung-bae shifted his gaze between Myung-gi and Se-mi, looking hopeless again, as he said, “Wah, you two really know how to kill the mood, huh?”

The mechanical hum of the loudspeaker kicked in, followed by the cold, distorted voice of the announcer.

“All players, the game is about to begin. Please form a line with your team. Position yourselves parallel to the opposing team. Select one representative from each side to play rock-paper-scissors to determine the attacking and defending teams.”

Slowly, the players began to shift, their feet dragging across the floor, but one thing was clear. Everyone was hesitant to part ways with their friends.

Gi-hun hesitated, exchanging glances with his friends. There was an unspoken reluctance, a deep-rooted fear in parting ways. The reality was sinking in. This was the first game that separated them to compete against each other.

Jun-hee’s gaze lingered on Myung-gi, her eyes filled with unspoken thoughts. Myung-gi was quick to notice and gazed back at her.

“Don’t worry,” he said calmly with a tight smile. “We’ll figure things out later.”

Jun-hee didn’t speak for the first few seconds. Then, she gave a small nod. They then parted to join their respective teams.

Dae-ho's entire body was visibly trembling now. He looked like he didn’t want to part with his friends in the red team at all, his wide eyes darting desperately between Gi-hun and Jung-bae, silently pleading for someone to stop this. Just then, Hyun-ju stepped closer. She placed a firm hand on Dae-ho’s shoulder.

Startled, Dae-ho turned his head to her, noticing the grim yet forced smile on Hyun-ju’s face.

With that, Dae-ho took a shaky breath and, though still trembling, followed Hyun-ju as they made their way back to the blue team, Myung-gi walking alongside them in heavy silence.

Yong-sik, gripping his mother’s hand, hesitated before finally releasing it. “Be careful, Mom.”

Yong-sik’s mother refused to let go of his hand, her grip tightening. She pulled him closer, her voice trembling as she spoke, “Yong-sik, I know this is hard, but we’ll figure something out. I promise. Just... stay out of trouble, okay? Don’t do anything reckless.”

Yong-sik looked at her with wide, fearful eyes, his hand shaking slightly in hers. He didn’t want to let go either, but he knew he had to. They had to play the game. Finally, with a shaky breath, he nodded. She managed a strained smile, swallowing her tears as she slowly released his hand.

With heavy hearts, they slowly moved into position. The red and blue teams now faced each other, a straight line of anxious faces and clenched fists. The space between them felt massive, like there was a line they shouldn't cross.

“Pick your representative,” the announcer’s voice echoed again.

Player 100, the greedy old man, stepped forward with a wide, smug grin.

“I’ll volunteer for the red team,” he announced, his voice loud and filled with cocky confidence.

Gi-hun and his friends stayed perfectly still, exchanging tense glances but saying nothing. They all knew better. Staying in the shadows seemed like the safest bet. Volunteering would only make them a bigger target.

As soon as player 100 made his move, player 226 – his ever-loyal lackey – stepped forward from the blue team.

“Then it's me for blue,” he said, his voice carrying a similar arrogance.

They faced each other across the divide.

“So, we’re not brothers anymore, huh?” Player 226 smirked, his jaw tight.

Player 100 chuckled darkly. “Tch. Brothers? In this place? I was only ever looking out for myself.”

Player 226’s face twisted with a mixture of anger and disbelief. “I followed your lead this whole time, and now you’re just throwing that away? Like a coward? Shows how pathetic you really are, old rot.”

Player 100 sneered, his grin widening. “Pathetic? Boy, you were the fool who followed me around like a lost puppy. And now you expect loyalty? You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. You just have no brains.”

Player 226’s jaw tightened, fury rising. “I’ll make sure you’re the first one out, old fucker.”

“That is, if you get the chance,” player 100 snapped back. “If I win as the attacking team, you better believe I’m coming for you first, son of a bitch.”

The other players couldn’t help but react to the heated exchange. Gi-hun glowered. Jung-bae and Jun-hee exchanged glances. The mother stayed quiet. Dae-ho and Yong-sik's gaze flitted between the two. Hyun-ju, Semi, and Myung-gi simply watched on impassively.

Player 100 and 226 then raised their fists, preparing for the most important form of decision-making in their entire life.

“On my mark,” a manager spoke up as he stood to their side. “Rock. Paper. Scissors.”

Player 100 threw out a rock. Player 226 put out a scissor. The result was instant.

The room filled with tense silence before the loudspeaker blared, “The red team will be the attacking team.”

Player 226 paled while player 100 immediately threw his fists into the air, cheering loudly and with wild exaggeration.

“Hah! I told you! You scummy bastard!” he bellowed, his voice echoing through the vast room. He spun around with his arms stretched wide, pumping his fists into the air as if he’d won the entire game already. His laughter was sharp, echoing mockingly as he shot a smug glance at player 226.

Player 100 then spun around to face his fellow red teammates, his grin wide and malicious. “Alright, listen up! For the first round, we vote for player 226. No mercy!”

The red team stood silent for a tense beat, most of Gi-hun’s friends exchanging uneasy glances but staying quiet. However, the O players on the same team quickly nodded in agreement. Their movements were stiff and forced. It was clear they were just trying to appease him, hoping to stay off his radar for as long as possible.

Player 100 sneered, clearly pleased with their response. “Good. Stick with me, and maybe you’ll last longer.”

Player 226 clicked his tongue in annoyance, his face twisted in frustration as he muttered under his breath, “Rotten old bastard.”

He shot a final glare at player 100 before storming off to stand in line with the blue team.

Player 100, still riding the high of his victory, threw an agitating smirk at him before casually strolling back to join the red team.

Before the tension could stretch any further, the loudspeaker blared to life again. The announcer stated, “All players, the game will begin shortly. Teams, form your lines and hold hands with your teammates.”

The players hesitated only for a moment before moving into position. The red and blue teams formed two parallel lines as instructed.

The announcer added, “A song will play to guide your movements. Teams will step forward or backward in turn. Follow the lyrics accordingly. Once the song sings ‘rock, paper, scissors’, players of the attacking team will point at a player from the defending team. The targeted player will be based on the majority of votes.”

The players braced themselves as a children's song began to fill the massive room, its playful melody clashing cruelly with the deadly game. Everyone was tense as they held their teammates’ hand.

Meanwhile, player 100 grinned wildly. He swayed mockingly to the beat of the song, his over-the-top movements making it clear he was savoring every moment. Across the field, player 226 glared daggers at him.

The song’s melody echoed through the vast room, its cheerful tone a cruel contrast to the tension crackling in the air.

As the first line rang out—

“Why did you come, why did you come, why did you come to our house?”

—the blue team, acting as the defenders, stepped forward in unison as if they were the ones asking the attacking team with the lyrics. The red team, as the attackers, stepped backward.

The second line followed:

“He said he came, came, came to look for flowers.”

Now it was the red team’s turn to advance, delivering the answer to the defending team through the lyrics. Player 100 led the charge, taking exaggerated, wide strides, his grin stretched from ear to ear. He locked eyes with player 226, his manic glee on full display. The blue team retreated, their steps cautious and calculated.

When the third line echoed—

“What kind of flowers did he come, come to find?”

—the blue team moved forward again. Player 226 pushed himself to the front, his chest puffed out as if trying to mask the nerves twisting in his gut. He fixed player 100 with a hard glare, attempting to show bravado.

The fourth line dropped.

“He said he came, came to look for rose flowers.”

The red team advanced again, but this time player 100 didn’t just walk. He lunged ahead of his teammates, rushing forward with his malicious grin stretching wider. His eyes locked on player 226, the sheer venom in his stare unmistakable. The blue team hastily stepped back.

Then came the fifth and final line.

“Rock, paper, scissors.”

It was the moment of decision.

Almost immediately, most of the red team thrust out their dominant arms, fingers aimed squarely at player 226. The aggressive, near-unison movement felt like a death sentence, their fingers all pointing at the same target.

But not everyone joined in.

Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Jun-hee, and Yong-sik’s mother pointed toward other blue team members, deliberately avoiding their own friends in the opposing team: Yong-sik, Myung-gi, Dae-ho, Hyun-ju, and Se-mi.

The majority had spoken. Eight out of 12 red team members picked player 226. He stood under the crosshairs of almost every outstretched arm, his face paling. Across from him, player 100’s grin widened even more as he muttered, “Don’t run away now, boy.”

The manager overseeing the game stepped forward, his voice booming even behind that square mask of theirs.

“Eight people have voted for player 226. Now, player 226 will get to choose one out of the eight to compete in a rock, paper, scissors match. The one who loses the match will be eliminated.”

Player 226 scoffed loudly, his frustration boiling over. Without a moment’s hesitation, he jabbed a finger straight at player 100. “You. I’m not going down without dragging you with me, you self-righteous gramps.”

Player 100 blinked, clearly not expecting to be singled out so directly. His smug grin faltered for a second before he quickly masked it with bravado, though there was a nervous twitch in his eye.

“Hah! You really think I’m wasting my time on you?” player 100 sneered. “You should be picking someone weaker. Someone you actually stand a chance against.”

Player 226’s eyes darkened with pure loathing. “What’s wrong? Scared?”

He turned to the manager, raising his voice. “It’s the rules, right? I get to choose?”

The manager, calm and unbothered, nodded once. “Correct.”

Player 100’s jaw tensed. His cocky mask wavered again before he threw his shoulders back, forcing a wide, arrogant grin. “Fine! Let’s play your stupid game. But don’t cry when you lose, kid.”

Player 226 clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. The supervising manager then stated, “Player 226 and player 100, please step forward.”

Both of them stepped forward from their respective teams. They then stood face-to-face. The manager stood silently at their side. The air between them crackled with palpable tension. Every eye was locked on them. Player 226’s jaw was clenched tight, while player 100's forced bravado was starting to crack, beads of sweat glistening at his temple despite his wide grin.

“On my mark,” the manager’s voice cut in, monotone and cold.

Both players raised their fists, ready for the throw.

The manager began, “Rock. Paper. Scissors.”

Their hands shot out in unison.

Player 100 threw out rock. Player 226 put out scissors.

The manager announced with finality, “Player 100 wins. Player 226 is eliminated.”

Player 100 hollered triumphantly, his voice echoing off the high walls as he pumped both fists into the air. “Ha! I told you I’d crush you! Look at you now!”

His laughter rang out, loud and mocking, as he exaggerated every move, basking in his victory. But player 226 wasn’t hearing any of it.

His face went pale, eyes wide with disbelief as the realization hit him. He’d lost. Completely and utterly. His chest rose and fell in sharp, panicked breaths as he staggered back a step.

The other players stood frozen. Gi-hun’s jaw clenched as he watched player 100 revel in the moment, disgust flickering in his eyes.

“Over-the-top prick,” Jung-bae muttered, glaring at player 100’s dramatic celebration.

Jun-hee and Yong-sik's mother frowned deeply.

You, watching from the Front Man’s quarters, frowned in distaste. Player 100’s smugness was unbearable, the pure glee in his face making your stomach turn. But your focus quickly shifted to player 226, who stood frozen, panic now flooding his expression.

The heavy stomp of boots echoed as triangle-masked guards began advancing toward him.

Player 226 snapped out of his shock, his survival instincts kicking in. He threw his hands up, waving frantically. “Wait! Just-just one more round! I can do better! I-I wasn’t ready!”

But the guards didn’t slow. They raised their MP5s in perfect unison.

“No, wait—!”

The gunfire was deafening.

Player 226’s body jerked violently in each shot hitting his body before crumpling to the ground, a growing pool of red staining the white floor beneath him. His outstretched hand twitched once before going limp.

The massive room fell into an eerie silence, the echoes of the gunfire lingering in the heavy air.

Player 100 let out one last victorious laugh, though it was quieter now, almost uneasy as the reality of what had just happened set in. The other players stood rigid, their faces pale, the brutality of it all sinking deeper than before.

You inhaled sharply from where you sat. The guards then stepped back towards the wall, their weapons lowered, as the manager announced, “The next round will begin with the attacking and defending teams switching positions. The blue team will now be the attacking team, and the red team will be the defending team.”

As the rounds progressed, you noticed the plan in action. Gi-hun, Jun-hee, Jung-bae, Yong-sik’s mother, and the others subtly avoided voting for their friends on the opposing team. They were careful, trying to be subtle, ensuring no majority votes landed on their allies. By staying in the shadows and never drawing attention, they reduced their chances of being singled out for the deadly rock, paper, scissors match.

The strategy worked for a while. One by one, the O players on the blue team, were picked off. Each elimination was met with the same cold routine – play the which flower procedure, votes, a quick game, and then gunshots. The pool of players shrank in each round.

You noticed player 100’s smug demeanor slowly fade as he observed the pattern. His eyes darted between the remaining players, realization creeping over him. Being an O player himself, he couldn’t ignore the fact that the blue team’s O players were being taken out systematically. His cocky grin faltered.

Player 100’s frustration boiled over, his voice rising above the murmurs of the room. “They’re taking out all the O players! We’re next if we don’t do something!”

He jabbed a finger toward the blue team, his face twisted with indignation. “Switch it up! Start voting out the X players on their side!”

His voice echoed through the vast space, making heads turn.

You felt a sinking feeling in your chest as you watched from the Front Man’s quarters. Your eyes scanned the blue team, picking out the X players. They were:

Dae-ho, Hyun-ju, Yong-sik, Se-mi, and Myung-gi. All of them were your friends or acquaintances. There was one more X player, a quiet man who had kept to himself.

Only one O player remained on their side, standing nervously at the far end, clearly aware that his time was running out.

Shifting your focus to the red team, you tallied the survivors. The X players there were Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Jun-hee, Yong-sik’s mother, and a short boy labeled player 125.

But what truly caught your attention were the remaining O players. It was player 100 himself, the malicious player 124, and another nondescript man who hadn’t spoken a word the entire game.

The room fell into a heavy silence as the red team prepared for their turn. The manager’s voice crackled through the speakers. “Red team, you will be the attacking team this round. Make your selection once the song reaches–”

“Rock, paper, scissors, I know!” player 100 barked. He then pivoted to face his fellow red teammates. “Everyone! Next, we vote for the X!”

Before anyone could react, player 124 stepped forward, his finger jabbing out toward the blue team. “Let’s vote for him!”

All eyes shifted to Myung-gi, who froze as the accusing finger landed squarely on him. His expression twisted into surprise before he quickly masked it, his jaw tightening as he glowered at player 124. The two locked eyes, past grudges crackling between them.

From where you sat in the Front Man’s quarters, you couldn’t help but glance over at Jun-hee. Her face had gone pale. Her worry was written all over her.

Myung-gi, however, chose to stay silent. He didn’t protest, didn’t argue. Instead, he squared his shoulders and stood still, his fists clenched at his sides.

That’s when you noticed player 124 sidling closer to another red team member. It was the nervous boy labeled player 125. He told him, “Min-su, don’t make me mad now. Let’s win this again. One more game.”

Min-su flinched at the tone, his head dropping as he refused to make eye contact. He nodded once, his shoulders shaking slightly in fear.

The next round began. The melody played again, leading into the inevitable moment.

“Rock, paper, scissors.”

Hands from the red team shot forward.

You held your breath, leaning forward in your seat while carefully supporting the baby sleeping in your arms.

Player 100, player 124, another O player, and Min-su all pointed at Myung-gi, their votes locking him into the spotlight. Meanwhile, Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Jun-hee, and Yong-sik’s mother each pointed at the last O player left on the blue team.

The female announcer’s voice rang out. “Player 333 and player 104 received four votes each. In this case, player 333 and player 104 are required to break the tie by competing in a rock, paper, scissors game.”

All eyes turned to the supervising manager. Myung-gi and player 104 stood frozen. The former’s face was unreadable, but player 104 looked as though he might faint.

“Wait,” Myung-gi called out. “If one of us loses… does that mean we’re eliminated?”

The manager shook his head. “No. The loser of this rock, paper, scissors will be the chosen player and will get to pick their competitor from the red team for another match.”

A beat of silence passed before Myung-gi and player 104 raised their hands.

The manager began, “On my mark. Rock, paper, scissors.”

Both players threw their choices forward.

Myung-gi’s hand came down as scissors.

Player 104 laid out rock.

The result was immediate.

“Player 333 loses. You will be the targeted player. You will now select your opponent.”

Myung-gi exhaled sharply, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. For a moment, he just stood there, staring at the ground.

Jun-hee’s eyes shimmered with pure desperation. Her hands trembled at her sides, her lips parting in terrifying dread. Her wide, glassy eyes locked onto Myung-gi, The fear, the worry. They were all there, visible on her face, but she forced herself to stay silent.

Myung-gi finally lifted his gaze, locking eyes with Jun-hee for a long while. Something unspoken passed between them – regret, apologies, and fear. He swallowed hard before shifting his stare to player 124. He glowered resentfully.

“Fine,” Myung-gi said suddenly, his voice sharp and cold.

It was as if something inside him had snapped into place, as if resigned to fate. But there was a part of him that still burned to fight back. He straightened his shoulders, exhaling slowly before lifting his arm, his finger pointing straight at player 124.

“I’m dragging you with me,” he growled.

Player 124 scoffed, the sound dripping with derision and loathing. “Tch. Brave talk for a scammer.”

The manager’s voice echoed through the room. “Player 333 and player 124, please step forward.”

Without an ounce of hesitation, Myung-gi stepped out from the blue team’s line, his face a hardened mask of resolve. There was no fear in his eyes – only sheer defiance – as he strode forward, positioning himself before the manager. He glared at player 124.

Player 124, meanwhile, was livid. His jaw worked as he struggled to suppress his rage and another emotion, but he forced a chuckle, then broke into a mocking laugh.

“Oh, MG Coin, you really think you have outplayed me?” he sneered. “You’ve been a walking failure since the start. This’ll just be another loss for your record.”

The insult hit like a slap, but Myung-gi didn’t flinch. His jaw clenched, his nostrils flared but he kept his focus locked.

Suddenly, player 124 turned around and reached beneath his white shirt, pulling out a necklace shaped like a small ‘t’. His hands trembled as he unclasped it, revealing a hidden compartment inside. Nestled within were two small, circular pills. You frowned in confusion. Is that his meds?

With a sharp flick of his shaky wrist, he popped both pills into his mouth, his head tilting back as he forced them down. His hands trembled violently, but he clenched his jaw. For a moment, the shaking intensified. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, his body stilled. The trembling faded completely, leaving him standing eerily calm.

Everyone watched him quietly. Some players exchanged tense glances, clearly understanding what he had taken, while others remained baffled. The silence thickened until the hot pink-clad manager broke it. “Player 124, step forward.”

Player 124's demeanor shifted entirely. Gone was the twitchy, agitated man from before. Now, he carried himself with an unsettling calm and confidence. His eyes gleamed with a kind of clarity, though a faint, manic edge still lingered.

He waved the manager off with a casual flick of his wrist.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” he drawled, striding toward Myung-gi with an easy swagger. His smirk widened as he closed the distance, his voice lowering into a taunting sneer. “Still think you can beat me, MG Coin? You’re about to fold faster than your worthless crypto.”

You narrowed your eyes from the Front Man’s quarters, suspicion prickling at the back of your mind. He’s high. It explained the sudden calmness and confidence.

“On my mark,” the manager declared.

The two players squared up, their hands raised in preparation. The entire room seemed to hold its breath. Even you, watching from the Front Man’s quarters, leaned forward, feeling the pounding of your own heart echoing in your ears. The baby in your arms shifted slightly, but you barely noticed.

Everyone was silent – so silent it was suffocating.

The manager said, “Rock.”

Both Myung-gi and player 124 tensed, their fingers twitching.

“Paper.”

Myung-gi’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving player 124’s.

“Scissors.”

Their hands shot out. Your breath hitched.

Myung-gi chose paper. Player 124 threw rock.

“Player 333 wins. Player 124 is eliminated,” the manager’s voice echoed.

Gasps of relief rippled through both the red and blue teams. You quickly scanned the players, recognizing the source of the reactions to be Myung-gi's acquaintances and even his ex-girlfriend. Jun-hee stood among them, her hands pressed firmly against her chest. Her expression, a mix of exhaustion and quiet joy, made it clear just how much she had been holding her breath.

Meanwhile, player 124 didn’t flinch. Instead, he stood perfectly still, his head tilted slightly to the side, a lazy smile curling at the edge of his lips. His wide eyes glistened, glassy and calm, almost... serene.

“Ha,” player 124 chuckled softly, running a hand through his hair. “Well, would you look at that?”

His voice was light, easy, devoid of any tension. He turned his head toward Myung-gi, his grin stretching wider. “You are a really lucky bastard, MG Coin. Real lucky shot.”

Myung-gi stared at him, stunned by the reaction. There was no rage, no screaming, no accusations. It’s just that eerie calmness.

Player 124 walked closer to Myung-gi and daringly inched his face closer to his menacingly. “What kind of person are you, really? You scammed hundreds or thousands of people. You already got a girlfriend and a baby. And now you got really lucky in this game too. Meanwhile, I'm one of your victims. I used up all my money on your coin scam. My whole family disowned me. And I got unlucky? This is really, really unfair.”

Myung-gi stayed silent, locking eyes with the manic yet eerily calm gaze of player 124. The words cut deeper than he expected, hitting something raw inside him. In that moment, it all sank in about how lucky he really was and how many lives he’d left in ruin. The people who had fallen for his scam weren’t just faceless victims; they were desperate and broken too. Deep down, he knew he should be the one standing in player 124’s place. Maybe then, he could finally begin to atone for everything he’d done.

Two triangle guards advanced toward player 124 and Myung-gi, their shoes thudding against the floor. The sound echoed, drawing both players’ attention. Player 124 remained eerily calm. He straightened his back, lifting his chin with a strange serenity, his glassy eyes still glinting with that unsettling, drug-fueled calmness.

With a soft sigh, he exhaled through his nose, a half-smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “So, this is it, huh?”

The guards arrived to stand before player 124. Still, he didn’t flinch. He let out another chuckle, almost giddy now. “Man, you guys are so serious all the time. Relax! It’s just a game, right?”

Even as the guards raised their weapons, player 124 remained eerily calm, as if the weight of reality hadn’t hit him… or more likely, the pills numbed him beyond fear.

“Later, losers,” player 124 murmured, flashing one last grin.

Multiple gunshots cracked through the massive room. Player 124’s body collapsed to the floor, still wearing that unsettling smile.

The silence that followed felt heavier than before. Myung-gi exhaled shakily, his heart still pounding as he processed what had just happened. Even in victory, the unease lingered.

Player 100 muttered curses under his breath. His fingers curled into fists, nails digging into his palms as he glared at Myung-gi’s retreating figure. “Damn cockroach… can’t believe he pulled that off.”

But the victory wasn’t what gnawed at him. It was the numbers. There were only three O players left.

In the red team, it was just him and another unknown male player. In the blue team, it was the last O player who had won against Myung-gi and narrowly escaped being the targeted player.

Player 100 could feel the walls closing in. His eyes darted toward Gi-hun, who stood quietly, hands at his sides, gaze calm. Too calm.

“This is your doing, isn’t it?” player 100 yelled, pointing a shaking finger at him. “You planned this from the start! You’ve been whittling us down!”

Gi-hun turned his attention to him.

“Don’t act like you’re innocent,” player 100 spat, taking a step closer, his voice rising with each word. “You’ve been playing the long game, getting rid of every O one by one. Keeping your little friends safe while the rest of us drop like flies. You slimy little rat!”

Jung-bae couldn’t stay quiet anymore. He stepped forward, placing himself between Gi-hun and player 100.

“Hey, back off,” he snapped, his eyes wide. “You’re the one who’s been throwing people under the bus since the start. You act like you’re a top dog when all you’ve been doing is stabbing people in the back.”

Player 100 sneered. “Oh, look, Gi-hun’s little lapdog has something to say.”

Jung-bae didn’t miss a beat. “Hey! At least I’ve got loyalty. something you wouldn’t recognize if it bit you.”

Before the tension could escalate further, Yong-sik’s mother stepped forward, her hands raised slightly in a calming gesture. “Enough, enough. This isn’t the time for bickering. We’re all barely holding on here. Fighting each other won’t change that.”

For a moment, there was silence. But player 100 wasn’t having it.

He whipped around to face her, his face contorted with frustration. “Oh, great! The fragile mother wants to play peacemaker now? You think you’re innocent in all this? You helped take out my fellow O players too! Don’t act like you’re some kind-hearted saint.”

His words cut through the tension like a knife, and the sheer force of his accusation made several players shift uncomfortably. He continued, “Spare me your pity act, grandma!”

Yong-sik’s mother flinched but quickly squared her shoulders, refusing to back down despite the sting of his words. Her hands trembled, but her chin lifted in quiet defiance.

“How dare you speak to me that way?” she snapped, her voice cracking with emotion, though she tried to hold her ground.

“Back off, you greedy old scum!” Yong-sik shouted from the blue team's line. “You don’t talk to my mother like that!”

Player 100's face twisted in rage, veins bulging at his temple as he jabbed a finger at Yong-sik. “You little brat! Always hiding behind your mommy! You think that’s gonna save you in here? You will sacrifice your mother sooner or later!”

Yong-sik’s fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tight, but he said nothing. It's as if player 100 hit a nerve that stunned him.

Player 100 then swung his gaze toward Gi-hun and Jung-bae. “And you two, and your friends? Don’t think for a second I don’t see what you’re doing. You’re nothing but cowards, hiding behind everyone else’s sacrifices.”

Gi-hun stayed silent, his face solemn, while Jung-bae rolled his eyes. “Fine, old man. Whatever. Are you done yet?”

Player 100 snorted but didn’t push it. He turned sharply on his heel and stormed back toward the red team’s line. He made sure to position himself as far from Gi-hun and the others as possible, sidling up next to the only remaining O player on his team – a man who flinched slightly as player 100 stood beside him.

Player 100 crossed his arms and threw one last glare at Gi-hun’s group before muttering under his breath, “Bunch of backstabbing rats. We have to do something fast.”

However, player 100 didn’t have time to form a plan. The next round began swiftly, with the blue team taking on the role of attackers while the red team stood defensively. As the song reached its final line of lyrics, the blue team reacted in near-perfect unison. Hands snapped forward, every finger – except one – pointing directly at player 100. The lone exception, the solo O player, hesitated for a fraction of a second before shifting his aim toward Jung-bae.

“Player 100 has been chosen as the targeted player,” the manager’s voice echoed coldly through the room.

For a split second, player 100 stood frozen, his mind racing to catch up with reality. Then, his face contorted in disbelief and pure rage.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” he roared, his voice bouncing off the walls. “You all voted for me? ME?”

His eyes darted wildly between the blue team members, searching for anyone who looked even remotely guilty but they all stood firm and determined. His gaze finally locked onto Gi-hun as if instinctively blaming him.

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?!” player 100 snarled. “You wanted me out from the start!”

Gi-hun didn’t flinch. He simply stared back, his face unreadable.

Jung-bae responded instead. “No plan, old man. You just made yourself the biggest target in here.”

“Cowards!” player 100 spat, though the edge of desperation in his voice was impossible to miss. “You all ganged up on me because you’re too scared to face me one-on-one!”

The manager’s voice cut through the noise again. “Player 100, step forward and choose your opponent from the blue team.”

Player 100’s chest heaved as he clenched his fists. His bravado was clearly cracking, but he still barked, “Fine!”

He jabbed his finger straight at someone in the blue team. All eyes followed. Your heart sank as your eyes widened in shock, dread tightening in your chest. It was Dae-ho.

Dae-ho, naturally pale, now looked as if all color had drained completely from his face. His skin was ghostly white, his wide eyes shimmering with panic. His arms trembled uncontrollably. It's like his body couldn’t decide whether to fight or flee.

Player 100 grinned wickedly, the sadistic pleasure unmistakable on his face. “You, ex-marine. Let’s see if all that training makes a difference here.”

Dae-ho didn’t respond. He could barely breathe, his throat dry, his heart pounding so loud it drowned out the noise around him. His legs felt like they might give out at any second.

Gi-hun’s mouth went ajar. He was obviously worried. Jung-bae, however, wasn’t one to stay quiet.

“Pick on someone your own size, you pathetic old man!” he shouted across the room, his voice sharp with anger.

Player 100 threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, please. I’m giving him a chance to prove himself. Ex-marine, right? Big, tough guy? C’mon!”

Jun-hee stood rigid, her face once again displaying immense concern towards another friend of hers – a man who had taken good care of her since they met here. Yong-sik’s mother pressed a hand to her chest, her face pale with concern. “Oh no...”

Meanwhile, Dae-ho stood there, frozen. His mind replayed the worst-case scenarios over and over. He knew the rules. He knew what would happen if he lost. He knew what would happen if he refused to play.

Player 100 then stepped out of the red team's line, standing before the awaiting manager. “Move it, ex-marine!”

The manager glanced at Dae-ho and finally stated, “Player 100 and player 388, please step forward.”

Swallowing hard, Dae-ho finally stepped forward, his legs shaky beneath him. His shoulders hunched slightly, as though he was carrying the weight of his past along with him.

Watching from the Front Man’s quarters, you felt a pang of concern cut deep. You knew Dae-ho carried some heavy burden from his past. You remembered the way he ran and hid during the gunfight in the revolt. His fear was palpable. His instinct to flee overpowered his marine training. It wasn’t cowardice; it was trauma.

Seeing him now, trembling and vulnerable, stirred something in you. He wasn’t just another player in this nightmare. He was your friend. He was someone you’d laughed with, and someone who encouraged you when things got rough. Now, he stood alone, facing off against player 100’s cruelty with barely a thread of composure holding him together. It hurt to see him like this, knowing there was nothing you could do but watch, hope, and silently will him to survive.

Once the two of them stood before each other next to the supervising manager, player 100, smug as ever, derided, “Don’t pass out before we start. Wouldn’t want this to be too easy.”

Dae-ho swallowed visibly. Everyone could tell drops of sweat began to roll down his temple and neck. His trembling hands betrayed him as he tried to pretend to be brave in front of the smug player 100, but failed spectacularly. You frowned deeply for him. You wished you could be there for him.

“On my mark,” the manager announced without hesitation.

Dae-ho jolted violently, his wide-eyed gaze snapping between the guard and player 100. His entire body trembled so intensely that it looked as though his knees might buckle beneath him at any moment. His chest heaved with rapid, shallow breaths as fear clawed at every part of him. The weight of the moment crushed down on him, leaving him paralyzed for a beat too long.

The manager began, “Rock.”

Player 100 grinned maniacally as he prepared one fist.

“Paper.”

Dae-ho hastily braced himself as his entire body still trembled immensely.

“Scissors.”

Both hands shot out. You and the entire room held its breath as the outcome was revealed.

Dae-ho’s hand shot out, the movement rushed and desperate. He laid out scissors. Across from him, Player 100 threw down paper.

For a heartbeat, the room was silent. Then the manager’s distorted voice echoed through the space. “Player 388 wins. Player 100 is eliminated.”

The words hit Dae-ho like a delayed shockwave. He blinked, his mind taking an agonizing moment to catch up to the reality of what had just happened. He’d won. Against all odds, he’d actually won.

The realization slammed into him, and with it came an uncontrollable surge of emotion. He let out a shriek, his voice cracking into a high-pitched yell that echoed through the room. His whole body trembled, this time not from fear, but from the sheer overwhelming relief flooding through him.

Cheers erupted almost immediately. From the blue team, his friends shouted loudest. Yong-sik, Hyun-ju, Myung-gi, and Se-mi sprinted toward him. Without hesitation, they crashed into him in a messy, joy-filled group hug, their arms wrapping tightly around each other as they bounced in place, laughing and crying at the same time. Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Jun-hee, and the mother joined in afterward.

You sat forward in your seat, heart racing, hands tightening around the baby sleeping in your arms. Relief surged through you so hard it nearly made you dizzy. Dae-ho had done it. You hadn’t even realized you’d been holding your breath until you let it out in a shaky exhale.

A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, but it was bittersweet. Seeing him so close to breaking hit you in the chest. You wished you could be there, to tell him how proud you were.

But this moment? This victory? It was his. And you felt every ounce of his triumph, your heart full of hope… and fear for what came next.

“You did it!” Yong-sik hollered, gripping Dae-ho’s shoulder.

“You did great, Kang Dae-ho!” cheered Jung-bae.

Dae-ho couldn’t stop smiling, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. The fear that had almost consumed him moments ago was gone, replaced with the comforting weight of his friends surrounding him.

But not everyone was celebrating.

Player 100 stood frozen, his face twisted in disbelief. “No! No! That’s not possible! You cheated! That was rigged! I had him beat!”

His protests grew more frantic as triangle-masked guards began to advance, their weapons raised and ready.

“Wait! Listen to me! He didn’t win fair!” player 100 shrieked, backing away as the guards closed in. “He was hesitating and saw I was about to throw a paper! You all saw it!”

But the guards didn’t falter. In a final act of desperation, player 100 tried to run. But it was too late.

Gunfire echoed through the room. The cheers stopped instantly. Everyone turned in time to see player 100’s body jerk violently before collapsing to the ground, a dark pool spreading beneath him.

Dae-ho’s breath caught in his throat as he watched the scene. The room hung heavy with silence, the weight of the moment pressing down hard.

The next few rounds blurred by in a haze of quick decisions and swift eliminations. Hands darted out, rock-paper-scissors was played, and gunfire echoed when the unlucky ones lost. There was no time to process, no room for emotions. The game had taken full control.

Minutes passed until the room thinned out, leaving only those who mattered most to you as the survivors.

In the red team stood Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Jun-hee, Yong-sik’s mother, and Min-su. Their faces were pale, their shoulders heavy with the weight of what was coming next.

On the blue team were Myung-gi, Dae-ho, Yong-sik, Hyun-ju, and Se-mi. They stood in a tense line, their eyes darting between the players on the opposite side, fear written clearly on their faces.

You sat back in the Front Man’s quarters, heart pounding, your hands trembling as you cradled the sleeping baby in your arms. These were your friends. Every single one of them, except for Min-su whom you had never talked with before. For your friends, however, they were people you had fought alongside, cried with, and in some cases, nearly died for. And now, they stood lined up against each other.

They can’t possibly vote for each other… right?

But deep down, you knew this game wouldn’t stop until it forced them to. After all, In-ho did say: “The rounds continue until one team loses all its players. The survivors on the winning team move on.”

The victorious energy from Dae-ho’s win had been snuffed out completely, replaced by an oppressive sense of dread. Eyes met across the room. Some glanced away quickly, unable to handle the weight of it. Others, like Gi-hun, held the gaze of his friends on the opposing team.

No one spoke for a long time. Until Jun-hee’s soft voice broke through the tension. “What are we going to do now…?”

Her question floated in the air, unanswered. The words were fragile, barely above a whisper, but they echoed loudly in the hollow space.

Yong-sik rubbed the back of his neck. “This… we can't really back out now, right?”

“No,” the manager suddenly spoke up, surprising Yong-sik since he didn't intent on asking them. The manager continued, “The game will continue until one team loses all its players.”

Everyone fell quiet. The manager's words echoed in the tense space like a chilling reminder. Eyes dropped to the floor, shoulders sagged under the oppressive weight, and the air thickened with a heavy, suffocating silence.

Gi-hun’s fists clenched at his sides, the pressure almost visible in his posture. He spoke up, “There has to be another way.”

Gi-hun’s eyes flicked upward, landing on the cluster of CCTVs positioned high on the room walls. Because of this, it felt like he was staring right at you.

You stiffened in your seat, the baby still cradled safely in your arms, but all your focus locked onto Gi-hun. It wasn’t possible for him to see you but somehow, it felt like he could. His eyes burned with intensity with the weight of a plan forming in his mind.

Gi-hun stepped forward, leaving his team’s line and walking straight toward the supervising manager, who stood silent by the side.

“What if the majority of us decide to stop right here, right now?” Gi-hun asked, his voice calm but loud enough to echo across the room.

A ripple of hope stirred through the surviving players. Heads turned, eyes widened. Everyone was caught off guard by the question.

Gi-hun turned his head again, glancing up at the CCTVs, as if daring whoever was on the other side – daring the Front Man – to intervene.

“It’s in the rules, isn’t it?” he said, his voice grew stronger, the conviction clear. “Rule No. 3: ‘The games may be terminated upon a majority vote. In case of a tie, players will vote again.’”

You felt your heart pound harder. He was right. The rule was there, buried in the fine print of the consent form every player had signed. You remembered it, as did they.

The players glanced around at each other, their eyes now wide with hope. Jun-hee clutched her chest, tears glistening as the realization dawned. Yong-sik’s mother whispered something inaudible, her hands shaking as if in prayer. Even Myung-gi, who had stood hardened for most of the game, allowed a sliver of hope to creep into his expression.

“Come on,” Gi-hun pressed, looking directly at the manager now. “We’re following the rules. If the majority of us want out, if we decide that this is over, then it’s justified.”

For a moment, there was silence. Thick, heavy, and pregnant with the weight of possibility.

You sat at the edge of your seat, your throat dry, silently begging for it to work. Let this be it. Let this nightmare end here.

But then the manager tilted his head slightly, his distorted voice cutting through the room. “That rule does not apply during the game. It only applies to the vote after every game.”

The words hit like a physical blow. The hope that had bloomed so fast was snuffed out in an instant. The players froze, their faces draining of color, the weight of their situation crashing back in with brutal force.

Gi-hun’s shoulders sagged, the fight momentarily leaving him.

You frowned in despair. The anger and helplessness clawed at your chest. It had been so close. Too close.

The players stood motionless in their lines. Each one of them stared blankly ahead, their minds spiraling into dark corners.

Jung-bae, standing in the red team’s line, let out a long, ragged exhale, rubbing his temples as if the headache building inside was finally too much to bear.

Yong-sik stood stiffly in the blue team’s line. Across the room, his mother stood in the red team’s line, her gaze locked onto her son. Neither could reach out, neither could offer the comfort they both craved. Yong-sik’s eyes shimmered with unspoken fear. His mother’s lips pressed into a thin line, her chin quivering slightly, but she lifted her hand just enough for him to see. It was a small, fragile wave. It was a desperate attempt to reassure him. Yong-sik’s throat tightened, and he managed a weak nod in return, but it felt hollow.

Jun-hee stood in the red team’s line, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, her knuckles bone-white. She blinked rapidly, trying to keep tears at bay, but her focus wasn’t on her surroundings. It was across the room. Her eyes locked onto Myung-gi, who stood rigid in the blue team’s line.

Myung-gi’s eyes darted across the room until they landed on her. Their gazes met, a silent current of emotions passing between them. Myung-gi didn’t need her to speak. The way her shoulders sagged and her jaw trembled said enough.

He offered her the faintest nod, though his own expression was tight with pain. His mind raced even now, desperately searching for a loophole that didn’t exist. But in this moment, with Jun-hee’s gaze locked onto his, there was only the bitter truth of their situation.

Dae-ho shifted uncomfortably, wringing his hands together,. His breathing was shallow, and his gaze flicked nervously to his friends before falling to the ground.

Then there was Hyun-ju. She stood still, her posture rigid, but there was a hollow look in her eyes like she had already seen this ending long before anyone else. Her shoulders rose and fell with slow, measured breaths as if she was forcing herself to stay grounded while everything crumbled around her.

And then, so slowly it was almost imperceptible, she nodded so slowly.

Her gaze was downcast, unfocused, as though she was staring through the ground rather than at it. The smallest, most fragile smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. It was an expression so soft, so hollow, it almost didn’t feel real.

It wasn’t a smile of joy or hope. It was the kind of smile someone wore when they’d accepted something too painful to say aloud.

“Maybe... maybe this is it,” she whispered to herself, her voice so soft it was almost lost in the heavy silence. “At least... half of us still make it out.”

The words hung in the air, delicate yet heavy, but her fellow blue team members heard her all the same. Their heads subtly turned toward her, their eyes filled with a mix of surprise and sorrow. No one spoke, but the glances they exchanged reflected the same haunting thought. They all knew she was right, even if none of them wanted to admit it.

Hyun-ju lifted her head slightly, her hollow smile softening into something faintly warmer. It wasn’t a smile of hope or joy, but a gentle, almost sad acceptance, like someone making peace with the inevitable. Her eyes flickered toward her fellow teammates, landing first on Myung-gi.

He caught her gaze almost instantly. After a beat of hesitation, he gave her a slow, solemn nod. The tension in his jaw relaxed just enough to show he understood what she meant. There was no malice in it, no bitterness. It’s just reluctant agreement.

Next was Se-mi. She didn’t hesitate. She nodded back to Hyun-ju before casting her gaze toward Dae-ho. Her eyes softened as she noticed him trembling again, his whole body rigid with barely contained fear.

Meanwhile, Yong-sik’s attention had shifted. Instead of reacting to Hyun-ju, his eyes flicked across the room to his mother. She stood with her head lowered, lost in her own thoughts, oblivious to his gaze. Yong-sik bit his lower lip, the weight of the moment crushing him, but he didn’t call out to her. He just pondered.

Dae-ho, however, was falling apart. His breath came out in short, shallow bursts, his hands clenched tightly at his sides as his body trembled in trepidation. Every second dragged out, thick with pressure, until he flinched at a sudden bump against his arm.

Se-mi had nudged him lightly with her elbow. He jolted in surprise, whipping his head toward her, his eyes wide and panicked. She simply raised an eyebrow, her usual laidback demeanor revealing itself.

“Don’t think too much about it,” she said, her tone casual despite the situation. She offered him the smallest of smirks before adding, “It’ll go how it goes. Freaking out doesn’t change that.”

Dae-ho blinked at her, caught off guard by how calm she was, but a tiny bit of the panic ebbed away. He sucked in a shaky breath and managed a weak nod in return.

But Hyun-ju’s smile didn’t waver. She let out a soft sigh, her voice barely more than a whisper as she spoke, “I'm sorry if this feels forced on you. Of course, you all are free to continue with this game.”

For a moment, no one spoke, the weight of her words settling over them. Then, to everyone’s surprise, Yong-sik finally broke the silence. He shook his head, his gaze dropping to the ground. “No, it’s alright. It’s hard to accept, but... the red team deserves to pass this more than we do.”

His words hung in the air, fragile and somber, yet they carried something. It wasn’t the answer anyone wanted, but it was the one they needed. A sense of reluctant acceptance washed over the blue team.

Hyun-ju’s smile widened before she slowly turned to the supervising manager. Her shoulders straightened as she braced herself.

“Excuse me,” she called out, her tone loud and clear, cutting through the thick tension of the room. “Is it possible if we, as a team, surrender altogether?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Every head snapped toward her, wide, shocked eyes landing on Hyun-ju and the entire blue team. Even some of the guards visibly turned their head to her at the question.

On the red team, reactions rippled like shockwaves.

Gi-hun’s eyes widened, his mouth opening slightly as if he wanted to speak but found no words. Jung-bae’s face contorted in pure disbelief, his jaw dropping as he gawked at Hyun-ju. Jun-hee gasped softly, then turned her gaze to Myung-gi, her heart sinking when she noticed the calm, resigned acceptance etched across his face. Yong-sik’s mother clutched her chest as she stared helplessly at the blue team before locking eyes with her son across the distance. His solemn, distant expression confirmed the fear blooming in her chest, leaving her paralyzed.

Min-su, on the other hand, simply stared in stunned silence, his gaze locking on Se-mi. There was something in the way he stared. But Se-mi didn’t meet his gaze, her focus and resigned smile fixed on the ground.

From the Front Man’s quarters, your heart raced in your chest, your hands tightening protectively around the baby in your arms. The suddenness of Hyun-ju’s request left you breathless. You knew her – knew the way she held things in – but this? This was more than courage. It was sacrifice.

A storm of emotions swirled in your chest. Sadness. Fear. And a gnawing helplessness that you couldn’t do anything but watch.

The manager, silent for what felt like an eternity, finally spoke. “If a team collectively wishes to forfeit, it is within their right. If you are certain, all players in the blue team will be eliminated.”

Hyun-ju slowly turned her head, her calm eyes meeting each member of the blue team. Myung-gi was the first to nod, steady but quiet in his acceptance. Yong-sik followed, his jaw tight as he dipped his head. Se-mi, laidback as ever, offered a small, resigned smile before her nod. Dae-ho hesitated, his whole body trembling with fear, but he eventually looked back at Hyun-ju and nodded albeit tremblingly.

Hyun-ju’s smile widened, still faint but now with a hint of gratitude, before she faced the supervising manager once more. Her voice was firm. “Then, we wish to surrender as a team.”

Your felt overwhelming cold of fear grip your heart. Your chest tightened painfully. Hyun-ju’s voice echoed in your mind, the strength in it, the acceptance… it cut deeper than you expected. You hated this feeling, this helplessness, watching the people you cared about walk willingly into their end. It felt like your heart had cracked open.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Yong-sik’s mother’s voice ripped through the silence, raw with fury and panic. Her hand shot out toward the blue team, trembling violently, her knuckles white as she gripped her chest. “Are you all out of your minds?!”

Her face twisted with anguish, eyes darting between the members of the blue team, but her gaze locked hard on her son. Yong-sik stood rigid in the blue team’s line, his jaw clenched, refusing to meet her eyes. Her voice cracked as she tried again. “Yong-sik! Say something! You can’t…! You can’t be okay with this!”

But he didn’t respond. His silence said everything.

“Damn it!” she shouted, her voice breaking.

Gi-hun stepped forward, his jaw tight. His voice was rough, caught somewhere between anger and pleading. “This is suicide! There must be another way, everyone! Don't give up yet!”

Jung-bae scoffed in disbelief, throwing his arms up. “Hey! You think sacrificing yourselves is going to fix anything? Didn't we promise to have a drink together once we leave? Hey, Kang Dae-ho!”

Dae-ho jumped in surprise upon hearing his full name, his wide eyes snapping to Jung-bae. His entire body trembled, though not as violently as before. But he remained silent. You realized that fear was still there, but he believed this was the right thing to do.

Jun-hee didn’t say anything at first. But then, she stepped out of her red team's line with quick strides, each step echoing in the heavy silence. Myung-gi’s head jerked up at the sound, his eyes widening as she approached. Her glare was sharp, but there was a crack of vulnerability beneath it.

“Don’t be stupid, Myung-gi,” she snapped once she stood before him, her voice thick with emotion. “You said you wanted to make it up to me. This isn’t how you do it!”

Her words hung between them, raw and trembling, leaving Myung-gi frozen. His lips parted as if to respond, but instead, he let out a slow breath, his expression softening. Then, after a beat, he smiled – not out of amusement, not out of defiance, but with a quiet sadness, a smile that held both regret and acceptance, as if he had already come to terms with this.

“Jun-hee,” Myung-gi began softly, his voice steady but filled with a quiet sorrow. “Once you pass this game, you finally get to leave. There are no more O players left, so you’ll have the majority vote. You can end this. Take our daughter and the money, and start over. Give her the life we always dreamed of.”

Jun-hee’s glare faltered. She recognized that look on his face – calm, responsible, determined. It was everything she had once wanted from him, the very thing she had begged to see in him. And now, when she finally did, it was for something she never wanted. Her breath hitched as her vision blurred, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

“I really want to be there for you and our daughter,” Myung-gi continued, his lips pulling into a resigned smile. “But what matters most is you two surviving. You need to live, Jun-hee. You need to take care of her. If I know you two are safe, I can leave this world without regret.”

A tear slipped down Jun-hee’s cheek, then another, until they came freely, streaming silently as she stared at him, disbelief and heartbreak written all over her face. Her hands trembled at her sides.

Myung-gi stepped forward. He reached up and gently brushed her tears away with his thumb, his touch warm despite the cold finality in his words. “Tell my daughter I love her. Tell her that I love her mother.”

A sob finally broke past Jun-hee’s lips, her body shaking as she let the tears fall. Myung-gi didn’t move away. He stayed, brushing away every tear as they came, holding onto this fleeting moment with her for as long as he could.

You watched from the Front Man’s quarters, your grip tightening on the sleeping baby in your arms. The rawness of their exchange cut through you like a blade. You glanced down at the baby, a deep ache settling in your chest. She had no idea what was happening, oblivious to the sacrifice unfolding for her. Her tiny fingers twitched in her sleep, curled against your chest, as if searching for something she would never get to hold. Her father was about to leave this world, choosing to give her a future he would never be a part of.

Then, as you brought your gaze back to the live feed, you noticed something else.

Beside them, Dae-ho, who had been trembling moments ago, now stood still. The violent shaking of his limbs had quieted. He had been terrified – of death, of the unknown – but now, something in Myung-gi’s words seemed to settle the war inside him. His eyes no longer darted around in panic. Instead, they were calm and downcast, almost at peace.

Yong-sik took a shaky breath before finally speaking, his voice quiet but filled with emotion. “I’m sorry, Mom... for everything I did. I have always inconvenienced you. But you never gave up on me, even when I made things hard.”

His mother’s eyes widened, her lips parting as if to say something, but instead, she shook her head, tears already welling in her eyes. Without hesitation, she rushed toward him, her trembling hands reaching for him as though afraid he would disappear the moment she let go.

“No, my sweet boy, no,” she whispered desperately, her voice cracking as she grasped his arms tightly. “You don’t have to do this. We’ll find another way. Please, my son, I can’t—”

Her breath hitched, and she cupped his face between her hands. “Let’s go home. Let’s get out of this together.”

Yong-sik’s body tensed as he fought to hold back his tears, but as his mother pulled him into a tight embrace, he finally let go. His arms wrapped around her, clinging to her like he had when he was a child. His chin rested over her shoulder, and his voice broke as he said, “It’s my fault you almost died in the third game, mom. I always put you in a tough spot. Now it’s my turn to repay you.”

His mother let out a soft sob, shaking her head fiercely. “No, you don’t owe me anything, Yong-sik! You’re my son. I would do anything for you!”

She gripped him tighter, her fingers clutching his back as if refusing to let him go. “Don’t do this. Don’t leave me.”

But Yong-sik didn’t respond. He just held her, his own tears finally slipping free, soaking into the fabric of her clothes. The two of them stood there, locked in their grief, their cries blending into the suffocating silence of the room. Nothing else existed in that moment. There was only a mother and her son, clinging to each other as their world fell apart.

Dae-ho shifted his gaze toward Jung-bae and Gi-hun, his lips parting slightly as if he wanted to say something. But hesitation flickered in his eyes. He swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words.

Before he could speak, Jung-bae cut in, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

“Hey! Don’t you dare say anything sentimental!” he barked, his tone attempting to mask the thick emotion wavering beneath.

For a moment, Dae-ho just stared at him. Then, an amused chuckle escaped his lips, shaking his shoulders. He sniffed, wiping at his nose before suddenly straightening his form.

With a snap, he raised his hand in a crisp salute. His posture stiffened, mimicking a soldier standing before his commander. And then, in a loud voice – though cracking mid-sentence – he yelled, “Victory at all cost! Thank you for everything!”

He paused as a wave of emotions surged through him, his salute hand trembling ever so slightly. With a sharp inhale, he clenched his jaw and forced himself to stay composed. Then, with a deep breath, he yelled, “I apologize for every mistake I made!”

Jung-bae’s expression twisted, his brows furrowing as if deeply offended. He scoffed loudly, shaking his head. He muttered something under his breath, low and unintelligible, before striding toward Dae-ho with sharp and wide steps.

For a tense moment, it seemed like he might hit him. But instead, once he reached him, he placed both hands firmly on Dae-ho's shoulders. His brows furrowed as he searched Dae-ho’s face.

“Are you sure about this?” Jung-bae asked, his voice lower now.

Dae-ho held his gaze for a moment before giving a few rapid and repeated nods. “I'm sure. I get to die like a man, and my father will be proud of me.”

Jung-bae exhaled sharply, blinking rapidly as his eyes glistened, but he held it in.

Gi-hun came to stand with them, his expression now clouded with frustration and concern. He exhaled sharply, his gaze locking onto Dae-ho. “You don’t have to do this. We can find another way.”

Dae-ho held his stare for a long moment before shaking his head with a faint, sorrowful smile. “Not this time. But I'm sorry. At least I can make up for my mistakes this way.”

“Don't be an idiot,” Gi-hun snapped, his voice laced with agitation and concern. “I understand why you left us in the revolt, so stop sulking and rethink this!”

Dae-ho forced a chuckle, throwing up his hands in mock surrender. “Eh, Gi-hun, let me go with some dignity! I was starting to look all cool there for a second!”

Jung-bae scoffed, shaking his head in frustration. “Dae-ho, you should at least try to fight back. Maybe there’s another way.”

Dae-ho turned toward him, his smile tinged with sadness. “Nah, it’s fine. At least this way, I get to decide my own elimination, not through losing a game.”

A tense silence settled between them. Gi-hun glanced down as if searching for the right words.

Suddenly, he let out a slow breath, lifting his gaze once more. “I’m sorry… for getting mad at you. About that time. I should've understood what you were going through.”

You perked up at this, your curiosity piqued. What happened to Dae-ho? Did he tell them what caused his PTSD-like reaction?

Dae-ho’s eyes widened, as if caught off guard by the apology. He hesitated before forcing a grin, reaching out to pat Gi-hun’s shoulder playfully. “Eh, it’s alright. No hard feelings.”

But as his hand lingered for just a second, his smile wavered. A shadow passed over his face, as if a memory was pressing too heavily on his mind. “I… sometimes wonder why I was the one left standing when they weren’t. When I hear a gunshot, it all comes back. Every moment on that island. I should’ve done more. Or maybe… maybe I shouldn’t have made it out at all.”

His voice barely rose above a whisper, but the weight of his words settled heavily in the air.

Dae-ho finally looked back up at Gi-hun and Jung-bae, his expression shifting. It was no longer sorrowful, but determined yet nervous. “That’s why I don’t want to go out feeling sorry for myself. If this is how it ends, then I want to face it on my own terms. So let’s not turn this into some depressing farewell, alright? Just promise me one thing. You two better make it to the end.”

Gi-hun and Jung-bae stared at Dae-ho for a long while, their expressions unreadable at first, but the weight of his words settled between them like an immovable wall.

Jung-bae's face twitched, his eyes glistening as he struggled to hold himself together. With a sharp sniff, he quickly rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand, muttering under his breath, “Damn dust...” as if trying to convince himself he wasn’t about to break.

Dae-ho noticed immediately. A small, sad chuckle left his lips, though his voice cracked as he spoke, “You’re such a lousy liar, Jung-bae.”

Jung-bae scoffed, still refusing to meet Dae-ho’s gaze. “And you’re crazy for doing this.”

Dae-ho’s smile wavered. His throat tightened, and before he knew it, his own vision blurred. He sniffed and blinked rapidly, trying to fight the wave of emotions washing over him. But there was no use. He could feel the tears threatening to spill.

Gi-hun watched Jung-bae and Dae-ho tear up. And before he could stop it, he felt it too – his own vision blurring as his throat tightened. He blinked rapidly, tilting his head up slightly, willing the tears away. Taking in a sharp breath, he exhaled in frustration.

Then, as if gathering every ounce of strength he had left, he turned to Dae-ho and glanced at everyone else. His voice, though steady, carried an unmistakable plea. “At least wait, everyone. Play a little longer. Give it more time. Just... don’t be so quick to throw everything away.”

Hyun-ju challenged his gaze as she responded calmly, “It’s pointless. You know it as well as we do. Instead of fighting something we can’t change, we’re choosing to go on our own terms.”

Gi-hun clenched his fists. “That’s not true. We’ve found ways before, we’ve made it through when it seemed impossible. Why are you giving up now?”

“Because this game isn’t made for us to win,” Myung-gi cut in, shaking his head. “The only way to win this is to have the other team lose all its players. It cannot be you guys.”

“That’s not a reason to just accept it!” Gi-hun shot back. “If we keep playing, we might find another way!”

“But I don't want to play anymore,” Yong-sik countered, his voice quieter but no less firm. He had pulled away from his mother's embrace but they still side-hugged one another. “I don't want to experience losing in this game. I want to die voluntarily.”

Gi-hun’s eyes darted between them, searching for something that would change their minds. But there was no hesitation in their faces, no flicker of doubt. It was a decision they had already made.

Nearby, Min-su hesitantly stepped toward Se-mi, his expression unsure.

“Se-mi...” he called with her ‘noona’ title. His voice was quiet, almost pleading. “Are you really going to do this?”

Se-mi, standing with her hands in the pockets of her jacket, glanced at him before flashing a small, laidback smile.

“Yeah,” she said simply, nodding. “At least this way, I feel like I win. Not on this game’s terms, but mine.”

Min-su stared at her, his eyes wide, his frown deepening with sadness. “But...”

He trailed off, his shoulders sagging as if the weight of her choice had just hit him.

Se-mi let out a small chuckle, shaking her head. “Don’t look at me like that. I made up my mind a long time ago.”

Min-su swallowed hard, his hands balling into fists at his sides. He looked down, struggling to find the words, but Se-mi simply patted him on the shoulder. She then told him, “After this, leave. Now you don't have Nam-gyu bullying you.”

Min-su's lips parted as if to argue, but no words came. His throat bobbed with a hard swallow. His wide eyes shimmered with something unreadable – frustration, sadness, maybe even guilt. He blinked rapidly, looking anywhere but at Se-mi, as though forcing himself not to break.

Yong-sik’s mother desperately tried to reason with them, her voice cracking as she pleaded, “Please, all of you, think this through! You don’t have to do this! There has to be another way!”

But Hyun-ju turned to her with a gentle smile. “There’s no need. This is what we want. And more than that…”

She hesitated for a moment, then continued, her voice softer now, “I’m grateful. Truly. For everything. Even if it ends here, I got to experience what it’s like to have a mother who loves unconditionally, without judgment. That was more than enough for me.”

Yong-sik’s mother’s breath hitched, her hands trembling as she gawked at her, overwhelmed by the words. She shook her head slowly, grief-stricken, but Hyun-ju simply gave her a final, reassuring nod. The mother immediately rushed over, embracing her tightly.

The hot pink-clad supervising manager stepped forward, his voice booming through the room in a deep, distorted tone. “All players, return to your team's line.”

Jun-hee visibly flinched before she turned toward Myung-gi, her lips parting as if to speak but unable to find the words. Myung-gi closed his eyes briefly, as if steeling himself, before exhaling and offering Jun-hee a small, sad smile.

Yong-sik’s mother’s grip on Hyun-ju tightened, her head shaking in silent denial, even as she knew there was nothing left to be said. Yong-sik, standing beside her and Hyun-ju, swallowed hard. His eyes were red-rimmed.

Min-su turned away from Se-mi. He took a hesitant step back toward the red team’s line but his movements were reluctant. Se-mi, however, remained as she was, hands in her pockets, her gaze steady, unflinching, as if she had already accepted this moment long before it arrived.

Dae-ho swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he turned to Jung-bae and Gi-hun one last time. No words were spoken, but the message was clear. Jung-bae blinked rapidly before he let out a slow, shaky breath.

Gi-hun froze in place, his breath hitching as the reality of the moment sank in. His mind screamed for a solution, something that could stop this, but deep down, he knew nothing could save them. His friends, the people he had fought alongside, were about to be taken away, and once again, he was powerless to stop it. A deep ache settled in his chest. He had promised himself he wouldn’t let this happen again, yet here he was – watching, helpless, as the game prepared to take them away.

The triangle guards positioned themselves directly behind the blue team. They did not wait for the red team members to walk back to their team's line. Instead, they raised their MP5s without hesitation, aiming them at the red team members' back.

The supervising manager stepped forward and announced, “The blue team has been eliminated. The red team wins. All surviving players, return to the dormitory.”

The blue team did not flinch. They remained still, standing tall despite the doom that hovered just inches behind them. The red team, on the other hand, froze.

Yong-sik was the first to break the silence, his voice shaking but he knew what must be done. He turned to his mother, gently gripping her arms. “Mom, please… you need to go. You don’t have to see this.”

His mother shook her head fiercely, tears streaming down her face. “No! I won’t leave you! I can’t!”

His jaw tightened, and his hands trembled as he gave her a pleading look. “If you stay… then what’s the point of me doing this? If you die too, then my choice means nothing!”

His voice cracked toward the end, a mix of desperation and frustration seeping through. His mother opened her mouth to argue but found herself unable to speak. Her whole body trembled, her heart shattering.

"Please, mom," he whispered, his eyes glossy with unshed tears. “Go. Just go.”

Yong-sik took a shaky breath and gently pried his mother’s hands off of him. She resisted at first, her grip tightening in desperation, but he held firm, his fingers pressing gently over hers until she finally let go. Once her hands slipped away, she stood there, her arms limp at her sides, her hollow eyes filled with unspeakable sorrow as she looked at him.

Myung-gi turned to Jun-hee next, his voice quieter but just as firm. “Jun-hee, you have to go.”

Jun-hee shook her head slowly, her tears falling freely. “But...”

Myung-gi smiled sadly. “Come on. This is for her, for us. If you stay, all of this will be for nothing.”

Jun-hee’s breath hitched. But as she stared into his steady eyes, her resistance wavered. With a choked sob, she took a step back.

Dae-ho, standing beside them, turned to Gi-hun and Jung-bae, his expression lighter than the situation deserved. “Alright, you two need to get out of here. No second chances.”

Gi-hun clenched his jaw, glaring at the guards. Jung-bae only stared at him in despair with a pair of glassy eyes. He then spoke up, “Dae-ho...”

Dae-ho placed his hands firmly on Gi-hun and Jung-bae’s backs. Without a word, he pushed them back, forcing them to walk away. His expression, though calm, carried a quiet finality.

“Enough of that,” he said, his voice lighter than the moment deserved. “Ex-marines like us shouldn’t cry anyway.”

Gi-hun inhaled sharply, his vision blurring for a moment, but he didn’t resist. Jung-bae, on the other hand, exhaled harshly, rubbing his face as if trying to erase the emotions threatening to surface.

Dae-ho offered them one last big grin that revealed all teeth, eyes teary and shining with something between acceptance and defiance. “Go on. Get out of here already.”

The red team members hesitated, their feet unwilling to move, but the inevitability of the moment forced them into action. Slowly, begrudgingly, they took a step back. Then another. Their eyes never left the blue team, their expressions a mix of heartbreak, frustration, and helplessness.

A sharp metallic click shattered the heavy silence. Then another. The sound of the triangle soldiers unlocking the safety of their MP5s sent a ripple of dread through the red team. Their breath hitched collectively, their bodies stiffening in response.

Yet, the blue team did not waver.

Despite the tension pressing down on them, they smiled. Some were grinning widely, while others were barely-there curves of their lips. Though they smiled, each one carried a tinge of anxiety, their resolve fighting against instinct. But the message in their eyes was clear. This is our choice.

Jun-hee bit down on her lip, her hands trembling as she forced herself to step back. Gi-hun’s fists clenched at his sides, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. Jung-bae frowned forlornly. Yong-sik’s mother covered her mouth, muffling a sob as her tears spilled freely. Min-su’s throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly, his gaze darting between the soldiers and Se-mi.

But the blue team remained steady.

From the Front Man’s quarters, you sat frozen, gently holding the sleeping baby. You wanted to look away, to shut your eyes and block out what was about to happen but you couldn’t. Your friends, the ones you had laughed with, fought with, survived with, were standing on the precipice of death, and all you could do was watch.

You felt tears roll down your cheeks, silent and unchecked, as you watched helplessly. The weight of the moment crushed down on you, suffocating, unbearable. Every fiber of your being screamed for you to look away, to spare yourself from what was about to happen but you didn’t. You couldn’t.

The triangle soldiers adjusted their grips on their weapons, fingers hovering over the triggers. The sound of your own heartbeat pounded in your ears, drowning out everything else.

From the live feed, you noticed the red team members were still walking backward, their movements heavy with reluctance. The first to turn away was Yong-sik’s mother. She forced herself to turn, her back now facing her son. You knew why. She couldn't bear to watch. A strangled sob escaped her lips as tears streamed down her face, her shoulders trembling as she walked away, each step dragging.

Min-su was the next to turn away, his shoulders hunched with guilt. Jun-hee followed, her silent tears streaking down her face. Jung-bae was next as he furiously wiped at his eyes, unwilling to let the emotions show. Gi-hun, however, couldn’t bring himself to look away.

The triangle guards braced themselves, their fingers tightening around the triggers. The blue team stood still, their backs facing the soldiers.

Then—

Gunshots.

You, Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Jun-hee, Yong-sik's mother, and Min-su jolted in surprise and frightening anticipation. The deafening sound tore through the tension, cutting through the air like a knife.

Your eyes widened.

The shots didn’t come from the massive room where the fifth game was playing out.

They came from below.

For a brief second, confusion flickered across the red team’s faces. The blue team, who had braced themselves for their fate, also hesitated, their gazes shifting ever so slightly. And then, just as quickly, they snapped their attention back to the triangle guards.

But none of them had fired.

Instead, the guards themselves stiffened, their heads snapping toward the source of the sound. A moment of eerie silence followed, save for the distant echoes of more gunfire reverberating from beneath them.

A blaring alarm resounded through the facility, its sharp wails bouncing off the walls and shaking the already tense atmosphere. The sudden noise startled the baby in your arms, causing her to stir before breaking into distressed cries. Your breath hitched as you looked around, uncertainty crawling up your spine. Something else is happening.

Then, the female announcer's robotic voice cut through the alarm, steady and void of emotion. “Attention, all guards. Maintain position and prepare for immediate engagement. Execute defensive measures as required. Repeat: Maintain position and prepare for immediate engagement.”

It was that moment you remembered about the kind 011 guard and Gyeong-seok.

NEXT : Chapter 22

PREV : Chapter 20.1

Story Masterlist

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! In-ho's Flashback P.O.V. is here again. What do you think about his P.O.V? Then, what about the fifth game? What do you think about Nam-gyu and player 100, and Min-su being put in the same time as Gi-hun? What do you think about player 100, 226 and Nam-gyu's death? How about the fact that Myung-gi and Dae-ho were at risk of getting eliminated? Then, about the blue team volunteering to surrender, what do you think about them all? And about the emotional aspects? And theeen, what about the gunshots that came from below? What do you think that was? 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!

Anyway, plagiarism is incredibly frustrating, especially after I had countless all-nighters spent writing and refining ideas. So it’s disheartening when readers told me that they see someone lift entire scripts/dialogues that I wrote (and not even in the Squid Game series) and romantic concepts from my story into theirs. If my work inspires you, the least you can do is give proper credit. That’s all it takes to keep things fair. Respect me as a writer, and respect the readers who deserve diverse styles and fresh perspectives, especially in Hwang In-ho fanfics. Readers, if you see any stories that do this, please alert me and leave a comment for them.

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

#hwang in ho #hwang in ho x reader #hwang in ho fanfic #in ho #the front man #player 001 #squid game #squid game season 2 #squid game s2 #front man x reader #front man x you

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