#young il x you
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voxslays · 2 days ago
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PAIRINGS: In-ho x reader, Gi-hun x reader.
SUMMARY: During the games, you meet two charming older gentlemen whom take a deep interest in you. But is this ‘interest’ enough to save your life in the end?
*Ddori is a playful Korean petname meaning ‘smarty’ not the name of an OC (just in case this causes confusion!)
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“Gi-hun, Young-il!”
You yell across the large shared dormitory, catching the attention of your two favorite men. Gi-hun, the serious and stoic one—who was simply a child at heart beneath all the layers of unprocessed guilt and trauma. And Young-il, the wise, strong and mysterious one.
They had kindly taken you under their wing after the first game—well, Gi-hun had. You hadn’t even met Young-il until he and a group of other players had asked Gi-hun what the next game would be, since he’d played these games before. In your eyes, Gi-hun was more than a tactical advantage. He was a human, and you cared for him.
“Ah.” Young-il sighs. “Good to see you, Ddori.*” Gi-hun says tiredly. You couldn’t imagine how worried they must’ve been during your disappearance in the last round of the last game—mingle. The number had been two, and you hadn’t even met pulled Jun-hee into a room. But they didn’t know that. They only saw you run off.
“It’s okay.” Young-il says nonchalantly, as if he didn’t care. The guards had been instructed not to kill you, but there was no guarantee there wouldn’t be a slip up or confusion. In-ho cared about you, despite the short time he’s known you. And to his utter shock, disbelief, and unmitigated horror—he was quickly falling in love with you.
And Gi-hun. Oh, Gi-hun. He was shocked and proud when you stood up for him when the second game wasn’t dalgona. When you had told player 100 and his clique to stop whingeing and get over it. He could simultaneously feel his heart melting and mental walls breaking down around you. Like Oh Young-il, he felt himself crumbling at the very thought of you.
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You were lying comfortably under one of the rows and rows of the lustrous, gleaming metal bunk beds. Once the lights had gone out and the fighting had begun, Gi-hun and Young-il had managed to drag you to safety. To the sides of you, they lay still. Both players trying to act as if the fighting didn’t bother them—although for different reasons.
Occasionally, one of the men would cast a side-eye or a dangerous (and suspicious) glare towards the other. It was as if both men were sizing each other up, trying to discern the others’ intentions. Both were trying to prove they were worthy of your presence to their adversary. But they both knew, in a way, neither of them were.
You, so young and full of life, did either of them really deserve you? Both were more than a decade your senior, which wasn’t a good look. Were they really that selfish? And all the blood and murder you were forced to witness daily. Your youthful, innocent, bright eyes shouldn’t see such things.
The screams of your fellow X’s being attacked you filled the air as you silently sobbed. Who knew which of your allies would survive. Geum-ja and her son? Hyun-ju? Se-mi and Min-Su? And while you at least had confirmation that the rest of your group were hiding under nearby structures, did that really guarantee their survival? Only time would tell.
“What’s wrong?” Gi-hun asks, gently and reassuringly placing his arm on yours. “I’m scared.” You cry. Young-il sighs from behind you. Despite all the bloodshed and tears from those around you, seems unaffected. It’s like he’s seen it all before. Maybe he was a marine too? “We will protect you.” He murmurs as Gi-hun caresses your back.
“You are safe.”
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Gi-hun carefully loads his gun and aims it towards a nearby red guard, taking them out with ease. Jung-bae was beside him, loading his ammo. They were running dangerously low. “Young-il, what's going on? Have you guys made a move yet?” His voice echoed over the radio, successfully reaching Young-il.
“I'm sorry, Gi-hun. It's over.” He responds, his voice shaky. It was always clear to anyone who knew him well (before the games) that In-ho was a great actor. He was able to fake tears on command, causing a great deal of trouble for his half-mother in his teenage years. Once the alligator tears started flowing, she would instantly cave. The second thing about In-ho? He was a great manipulator. “They got us.”
His words were always easy to flow and control. And if he messed up while undercover as a detective? He knew how to backtrack quickly. And these skills only intensified when he became Oh Il-nam’s star pupil. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, he could never do it with you. He always felt an insatiable guilt watching you suffer. You were a weakness, a liability. And liabilities don’t survive in his world. It was inevitable truly, but he knew he would have to do something about you tonight.
“Young-il! What's going on? You still there?” Gi-hun gurgles over the incoherent staticky walkie talkie. “Young-il. Young-il! Say something!” He pauses, more gunshots ringing out. “Come in, Young-il!” In-ho sighs, instantly dialing the radios channel back to the one the compound managers and staff used. “Let's wrap things up.” His voices crackles.
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He really didn’t want to have to do this. In-ho was already back in his frontman attire, and his alias, Oh Young-il was dead and buried under the responsibilities of the frontman and maintaining the order and equality of the illustrious games. In-ho didn’t have time for distractions, and desire what his beating heart tells him—you are one.
In the middle of the purple hallway, you and Gi-hun are forced to your knees. You look up at his mask, tears in your eyes—then you look at Gi-hun. “Player 456.” The frontman’s distorted voice rings violently through your ears. “Did you have fun playing the hero?” Gi-hun takes a deep shaky breath as the frontman’s pistol is pointed directly at your forehead. He was afraid. Afraid of leaving you behind. Who knows what would happen to you?
In-ho shared a similar confliction. You were the only person close enough to leave a mark. But he cared about you too. Yet, in the end, his mind of steel overpowered his weak heart. “Now, witness the consequences of your little game.” He moved his gun to the left, now pointing it at your chest. “Gi-hun..?” You mouth out, staring at him sorrowfully. The look on Gi-hun’s face is that of pure horror as he pulls the trigger.
With a loud bang, your body falls limply backwards, your eyes open, but half lidded as all the light is drained away. “No!” Gi-hun screams. A tear runs down the inside of In-ho’s black, geometrical mask. Like Il-nam said, he really is destined to be alone. He quickly turns on his heels and walks to the control room , the masked officer following closely on his trail.
From afar he can still hear Gi-huns pathetic screams. Like that would bring you back. In-ho had already made his choice and acted upon it. “What shall we do with player 220’s body, captain?” The masked officer asks, standing to the right of the control panel. “Incinerate it.” He pauses, turning to face the man. “Bring me their jacket.”
Moments later, Gi-hun is silenced. Presumably, being dragged back into the large shared dormitory, which was now missing over 350 beds. As in-ho settles back into his comfy black leather chair and pours himself a small glass of brandy, the robotic and lifeless female announcer voice echoes through the compound.
“Player 220, eliminated”
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wtfaniii · 1 month ago
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Paternal Instinct
squid game men's x daughter reader
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☆ As the title says, this is gonna be a little bit paternal, like, I'm sure they'd be the best when it comes to children (sometimes)
☆ I will put imagines in and out of games and depending on the character the reader will be of different ages.
☆ The next thing I'll post will be a request from Thanos
Hwang In-ho
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● Outside of games.
You, being a teenager in this world that your father dragged you into after your mother's death, were complete chaos.
You worked as a supervisor at his side wearing a mask with the figure from the square depicted in the center and despite being part of an organization of sadists you have not killed anyone, In-ho made sure you did not have to.
You walked into your room and removed the mask from your face as let out a long sigh, it had been a long day overseeing the creation of the games that this year's participants would cross and now all you wanted to do was sleep but as soon as you dropped your body onto the soft mattress, the door opened.
In-ho, without his frotman suit, entered your room with a small cake in his hands and the candles lit.
True, it was your birthday, ¿how come you forgot your own birthday? Maybe it's because you spent the day planning the deaths of innocent people.
—I asked for this cake to be made for you —In-ho said with a small, almost imperceptible smile.
They weren't as close as before, but he cared about you and tried to pay attention to everything that had to do with you.
—Thanks —you forced a smile as you sat on the edge of your bed —But it wasn't necessary.
You wanted to take it back when you saw the slight grimace on your father's face but couldn't, you simply weren't in the mood to celebrate your birthday under these conditions, your life wasn't the best and although you didn't hold any grudge against In-ho sometimes you wondered what your adolescence would have been like if he had left you with your uncle Jun-ho and your grandmother.
—I know you think that, you can say it —He said, leaving the cake on the table next to your bed.
—¿Why didn't you leave me with Jun-ho? I don't want to live here, I've had enough with my mother's death without seeing you become a puppet for these games.
In-ho sighed and looked down, you were right, he should have left you with his brother, he could have taken better care of you than he was doing but he didn't want to abandon you, he had already lost the love of his life, he couldn't lose his little world after that.
—You are the only thing I have left —He responded with regret —Believe me, I considered it, letting you have a life you deserved but I couldn't just watch you through cameras ¿Do you think bringing you to this shit was my first choice?
You didn't respond, you just hugged him and let him return the gesture, you still didn't want to continue living there but you didn't want to leave him alone either, after all, both only had each other.
After a few minutes of silence you looked back at the cake and smiled softly.
—¿Is it chocolate?
—dark chocolate, your favorite —He left a fatherly kiss on your head and took the cake again to put it in front of you —Blew out the candles and make a wish
The smile on your father's face was enough to ease your worries for a few moments, you blew out the candles hoping that one day these games would end.
● Inside the games.
In-ho's plan was going just as he thought, he approached Gi-hun and began to gain his trust but seeing you walk towards them among all the players made his heart skip a beat.
—¿Can I be on your team? —You asked with a smile that showed your white teeth.
—¿How old are you, girl? —390 asked with a surprised expression.
—Twenty —You replied naturally, playing with your hands, but In-ho snorted and took two steps towards you.
—No —He looked at you witheringly —No —Now he turned to see Gi-hun's team —She is sixteen, no twenty ¿What are you doing here?
He ended up looking at you again, he really didn't want you to be here and worse because his lie along with his fake name Young-il would fall apart but you were smart.
—¿Do you know each other? —Asked 388, who you found cute almost immediately.
—Yes, he is a friend of my father
—¿What are you doing here? —In-ho asked again, almost desperate to get an answer. You disobeyed him and you can be sure that you will be grounded until you turn thirty.
—The same as you —You answered firmly and defiantly, your smile challenged him because you were sure that he wouldn't scold you or his whole false theater would fall apart —¿Can I be on your team?
—Sure —Dae-ho replied, smiling kindly at you.
You smiled at him too, but with other intentions, just to irritate your father a little and take advantage of the fact that he couldn't scold you now.
—Thank you —you said with a flirtatious smile and a wink, to which Dae-ho lowered his head in embarrassment.
—Sixteen —In-ho repeated with slight annoyance and a tense smile.
Dae-ho tensed and raised his hands in a sign of peace and took a step back, he was just being kind but it was better to be safe than to have to face that man who kept looking at you with annoyance and reprimand.
You would be a problem for your father because not only would you challenge him at every opportunity you had but you would also try to help Gi-hun end these games, that was your wish and nothing was going to make you change your mind.
The Salesman
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● Outside of games.
The morning was calm, everything was silent and through the window you could see the clear sky with the sun shining, a good climate but a great contrast with the interior of your home.
The walls were wallpapered and the floor was shiny, you placed your hands on the cold marble table while your father placed a plate with a mountain of pancakes in front of you.
—Breakfast is ready —he said with a wide smile.
A polite smile, but most of the time it conveys coldness and threat. For you, this expression was genuine affection.
—¿Aren't you going to have breakfast with me? —You asked curiously watching him wipe his hands with the kitchen cloth and then fix his hair and walk towards the refrigerator.
—I would love to stay pumpkin but you know I have to go to work —He replied without paying much attention to you —After finishing your breakfast you take off your pajamas, get dressed formally and wait for your teacher to arrive.
You nodded silently as you used the fork to bring a piece of pancake to your mouth.
Life was monotonous.
Every day, you got out of bed to make it, had breakfast that your father prepared, bathed, combed your hair and got ready to take your private lessons at home, did your homework and at night you watched an exact hour of cartoons, brushed your teeth and went to bed.
Your father was a very organized man when it came to your schedule, you remember how one time you watched five extra minutes of television and as punishment he locked you in your room for five hours.
“Television melts your brain”
Despite everything, he loved you, you knew it, he just had a strange way of letting you know.
—I'll be back tonight, I love you pumpkin —He said approaching you to leave a kiss on your forehead.
He was a good father, but you didn't know anything about what he was doing out there.
You didn't know that he recruited and investigated people who would die playing for money or that sometimes he took on dirty jobs that his boss sent him, you didn't know what kind of person he really was and that was what the salesman wanted.
He adored you and that's why he avoided at all costs that you knew about the double life he led, he didn't want to hurt you.
However, there were certain mistakes that he regretted, one for example was that he himself had killed your mother as soon as you were born, he knew that she would want to run away with you, she did not want to continue living the life she had at his side and that was why he had to put a bullet between her eyes.
He didn't let her take you away from him, you were his daughter and even though he locked you up practically every day, he convinced himself that it was only for safety.
He only let you go out for a walk in the park and shopping malls on your birthday, once a year.
Despite how boring your life was, everything was going well until one night you heard moans and sobs coming from below your house.
You rarely heard them and this time you were very curious, you got out of bed, put on your slippers and left your room.
You silently walked down the stairs as the noises grew louder, when you reached what seemed to be the source of the sound, you saw that it was your father's secret room, a door that led to the basement was always locked, but this time... it was open just a little.
—¿Daddy? —You called him softly as you opened the door.
As you walked down the dark basement stairs, sobs mixed with opera music filled your ears, sending a shiver of fear through your entire body, you hugged your teddy bear tighter.
—The probability of dying is one in six and of surviving five in six —You heard your father's voice.
He explained with a polite smile, it was a great contrast to the situation was in, he liked to feel the adrenaline of this game and that way he could also get rid of these two men who had been following him during the day.
However, when he saw you at the bottom of the stairs with a scared expression and on the verge of tears, his smile faded and hid the gun behind him.
—¿What are you doing awake? It's past your bedtime and I told you a hundred times that you weren't allowed to come in here.
He spoke sternly and angrily, the two men he had tied to a respective chair began to make desperate sounds to get your attention, as if you were the only way to get out of there.
—¡Silence! —He shouted furiously making you jump a little in your place, you hadn't seen this side of him —Go to your room, ¡now!
Once you ran out of there, he took out his gun again and pointed it at the man in the red shirt. He was the one who made the most noise and that's why you woke up.
—Excellent, y'all traumatized a nine-year-old girl —He said with a tense smile
Although it was also his fault, he knew that at any moment you would discover his work anyway, but he hoped that wouldn't happen soon.
After you returned to your room you couldn't sleep, a couple of hours passed until your father opened the door and cautiously entered.
—You were disobedient —he began in a serious voice —And as a result you saw something you shouldn't have.
You were still lying face down with your face hidden in the pillow, he still had the loaded gun in his hand, he knew what had to do or else you would cause trouble.
But him couldn't.
The ease with which he killed his father was surprising but he couldn't kill you, you were the only thing that gave this home humanity and the mere thought of ending it made his stomach turn.
He clenched the gun in his hand and twisted his lips, after a long mental battle he put the gun in his pants and sat next to you.
—There are many things that you still won't understand, but what you can be sure of is that I am your father and I love you —With his hand he caressed your hair and felt you relax a little. —No matter what you saw down there, you will still be my daughter, but there will be some changes in this house.
You remained silent, you felt distrust but he was still your father, he was the only thing you knew and even if you were afraid of him you couldn't leave there, you had nowhere to go.
After a few minutes you sat up in bed and hugged him for comfort. He just caressed your hair and kissed your head.
Hwang Jun-ho
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● Outside of games.
Being the daughter of a police officer had its advantages and disadvantages.
One advantage was that you could brag about it whenever someone bothered you at school, including teachers, and a big disadvantage was that you rarely got to spend time together as a father and daughter.
Jun-ho worked constantly but he also tried to keep an eye on you. "She's your daughter, before you know it she'll be your age," his mother constantly repeated to him reproachfully, she was right, time was flying and if he continued looking for his lost brother or working double shifts at the police station he would miss more years of your life.
For that reason, he decided to leave work early that day, and went to buy two hamburgers, some chips and candy while he thought of some fun activity to strengthen the family bond.
But when he got home he found you sitting at the table next to your teacher.
He twisted his lips, assuming you had gotten into trouble.
It was no surprise, you missed some classes, you didn't bring homework and your grades weren't the best but you were a great girl in terms of your behavior, just very distracted and Jun-ho couldn't help but feel guilty about that behavior on your part, yeah, sometimes you did it to get his attention.
After talking for two hours with your teacher she left and your father looked at you tiredly.
—You haven't taken any algebra classes, if you continue like this you'll fail the year.
You formed a fake smile on your lips.
—The teacher hates me —You stated, getting up from your chair to go towards the bag that your father had brought. —You left work early.
—I thought I'd do something fun, you know... father-daughter
You saw him with a raised chest, it was not usual, it was already customary for Jun-ho to spend most of the day outside the house, either looking for your uncle or immersing himself in his work.
—¿It's a holiday and I forgot? —You asked funny and sarcastic, turning around to get a juice from the refrigerator.
—Funny —he responded falsely —Now bring your notebooks, let's study together.
It was not the entertaining activity that he had in mind but if it brought them closer as a family it was an opportunity that he would not waste.
—¿Oh really? I mean, I already missed the school year anyway.
The look on Jun-ho's face let you know that he wasn't joking, they were going to spend the next four hours studying numbers and equations.
You really thought it would be a waste of time but it wasn't like that, as the conversation about algebra flowed the confidence did too, Jun-ho had been absent many times but this help made you remember that no matter what happens or how, no matter how big or small the problem is, he will be there for you.
● Inside the games.
You were stubborn, you always disobeyed any order they gave you, even if your father asked you not to get involved in his affairs you ignored him because were family and you should support each other.
The last few days you had seen Jun-ho more worried and anxious than normal, so you decided to follow him and find out the reason for his current state but you didn't imagine that it was something related to the disappearance of your uncle In-ho, apparently he had already got some clues and you wanted to help him.
He scolded you when he discovered you and warned you not to get involved, he even went to leave you with grandma with the excuse that he would be away for a couple of days but you escaped through a window and followed him again.
That led you to where you were now.
Your bare feet were sweating and your hands were shaking, you tried to avoid looking down through the glass you were in but curiosity got the better of you and you looked down into the void.
You were terrified.
The night you followed your father, one of the men dressed in pink with a circle mask discovered you, left you unconscious and when you woke up you were wearing a green uniform with the number "455" lying on a bed and surrounded by several people who dressed the same, you thought it was some joke, you didn't know what you had gotten yourself involved in, and when you saw that had to play a series of games to avoid being killed, you felt as if the soul was leaving your body.
You looked for your father among all the players but you couldn't find him and shortly after you learned that he had infiltrated the guards, he told you when he came in during a fight between players and was able to talk to you for a few seconds.
—I don't want to die —You murmured fearfully as you heard another glass breaking accompanied by a scream.
—You're not going to die, you have to relax —218 spoke behind you, you were one of the last to cross these crystals and you were more than grateful for that.
You gulped and continued jumping to the next crystal that fortunately had already been tested by another player.
Meanwhile Jun-ho felt his stomach turn and his heart beat like crazy.
He tried to maintain a firm and calm posture, he was still an infiltrator and he couldn't let them notice his concern, but seeing you there between life and death made his heart stop.
One of the so-called "VIP" with a gold mask called him to serve him more liquor and he obeyed, however, the conversation that these people were having about the players made his blood run cold, they talked as if they were just entertainment, some circus animals so that these people could have fun as spectators, but what caught their attention the most was the way they talked about you.
"She looks about fifteen years old" one said with amusement "I say sixteen" spoke another.
Wrong, you were thirteen years old and Jun-ho felt like the worst father in the world for letting you get involved in this.
—¿Will sell the body if she dies or will they cremate it? —One asked interestedly and earning laughter from the rest, Jun-ho only felt nauseous listening to it.
Jun-ho returned to serve liquor to one of the masked men but when he heard a glass break followed by a female scream that he immediately identified as your, he turned around and felt his world collapse.
Where you were previously standing was now 218 with the gaze lost downwards and the body tense, when it was your turn to decide between the two crystals you refused, you didn't want to do it and saw the man who helped you survive each game was there behind you ready to push you.
Another breaking glass caught the attention of the guests, guards and the frontman, Jun-ho had dropped the tray with everything and bottle of liquor.
—I apologize —he murmured, bending down to pick up the mess of broken glass, taking advantage of the fact that no one could see his face, he shed tears of pain.
[...]
A few months had passed after living that nightmare in the games, Jun-ho left there with a bullet in his shoulder and with the disappointment of discovering that it was his brother who was leading all that, but also thanks to that you left alone with some broken bones.
In-ho recognized you instantly and made sure that you could get out of there alive, when you fell from that glass platform your body did not fall directly to the ground, the blow was cushioned by a pad that had been placed specifically for you.
He pretended you were dead and sent you to the hospital, When Jun-ho found out that you were there, he cried with happiness knowing that you were still breathing.
He walked into your hospital room with a set of clean clothes in his hands and when he saw you sitting on the bed eating Jell-O and watching TV he couldn't help but laugh.
—For you this was a vacation.
—Falling from a great height brings its advantages —You said with a triumphant smile, you had gotten rid of many exams and schoolwork.
He always apologized to you for everything you had to go through, from that day on he stopped looking for In-ho (or at least he did it secretly from you) and he was more attentive to you, he took you to school, he was never missing to any event that was special for you and he promised to put you ahead of everything.
Seong Gi-hun
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● Outside the games.
He's not the best father but he tries.
You were standing in the forum of your school wearing a dark blue robe and the characteristic mortarboard on your head, in your hands you held your diploma and tried to smile for the camera of the photographer that the school had hired.
You still looked between the seats in the stands for your father but there was no one, your mother had gone with your sister to the United States with her new husband and you had stayed here because you didn't want to abandon Gi-hun.
You formed a grimace on your lips and looked down with sadness and disappointment until suddenly you heard him voice among the people and you looked up again.
—Yes, my daughter just graduated, ¡Oops! Sorry if I stepped on you —He spoke embarrassedly as he crossed the row of people to get to his seat.
You laughed softly and inevitably raised your hand to greet him and get his attention even though your teacher scolded you.
Gi-hun carried a beautiful bouquet of flowers and a gift box in his hands, he sat in his respective place and smiled at you affectionately.
To be honest with himself, he had not planned to come to your graduation, he would apologize to you later by taking you to eat, giving you a gift and flowers, but in the end he decided to go, late but he arrived.
It took him a long time to find the salesman again and he was practically investing all his money in it, this day was not going to be different, ¿what made him change his mind? The photo of you as a baby that he had saved on his phone, the one-year-old you would cry inconsolably if he knew he was going to be without him on this special day.
When the ceremony ended you ran towards him, who welcomed you with open arms.
—Congratulations my life, I'm proud of you —He said, giving you a fatherly kiss on the forehead.
—Thanks for coming —Your smile was enough to confirm that he had made the right decision.
He gave you your flowers and the gift, when you opened it you found a beautiful sewing machine, it was the most appropriate gift considering that you had just graduated as a fashion designer.
—¡Thank you dad! —You said happily, hugging him tightly again.
You were excited and he was also happy to share this moment with you, he had isolated himself from everything for the last three years but you managed to get him out of his comfort zone to also make him smile.
Sometimes he isolated you to protect you, he didn't want anyone involved in those games to know that he had a daughter, a great weakness if they asked him and if something happened to you he was sure that he would never forgive himself and he would be capable of doing the unimaginable for defend you.
He called you "my life" and it was because that's what you were to him, his entire life, his oldest daughter was all he had left.
● Inside the games.
The last thing he wanted to happen was exactly what happened.
The night they took him back to those games you were also dragged with him, not by your own will because you didn't know anything about this but by the simple fact of being the closest to him you found yourself involved in this conflict.
—¿Why didn't you ever tell me about this? —You asked him cautiously as ate the food those pink guards had given them in silver cans.
—I didn't want you to get involved in this —He admitted with an expression of failure and anguish —But now you're in danger.
—We'll be fine —You smiled at him with motivation —They're just... they're child's games ¿right? We will get out of here alive.
—She's right, we just have to be prepared —Young-il said agreeing with you.
You stayed quiet and sat next to your father while you finished eating until a dispute between players caught your attention, one with purple hair and his friend forcefully pushed another to the ground.
A grimace of pain formed on your lips as the poor guy was kicked in the abdomen, knocking the wind out of him.
—¿Aren't they going to help you? They are hurting him —You complained, turning to look at the group of allies that your father had formed, but when you saw that no one was going to do anything, you stood up.
But as soon as you took a step, Young-il put a hand on your shoulder as a sign that he would take care of the situation.
After he hit the two bullies you went to player 333 and helped him stand up.
—¿Are you okay? Come with me —You said leading him to your group.
He gave you his name as a thank you, Lee Myung-gi, while you were talking to him you noticed that he was attractive and he was only a couple of years older than you
Well, eight years to you wasn't much of a difference but your father wasn't too happy about it.
During the next game in which they had to team up with five players, Gi-hun tried to keep you close.
—Well, the five of us are here, we are complete.
—Myung-gi doesn't have a team yet —You said, approaching 333 who was still standing next to you but looking in all directions in search of some team —I'll go and form another one with him.
Those words didn't seem pleasant to Gi-hun either, but before he could refuse, Young-il interrupted to help you a little.
—That's good, this way it will be easier for you to find team.
You thanked him with your look and before your father could say anything you took 333 by the hand and the two of snuck through the players in search of a team.
Even so, you could feel your father's gaze on your back and not to mention Myung-gi, he did feel somewhat intimidated but he also couldn't deny a certain attraction he had towards you since he saw you.
It was incredible and made you laugh how despite the circumstances he was still protective of you, not only protecting you from physical harm, but also emotional harm and keeping an eye out in case someone wanted to break your heart.
With the salesman I didn't put it into the games because I think it's obvious that that man would never allow something like that when it comes to his daughter.
Thanks for reading and the next thing I'll post will be about Thanos, a pending request :D
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frost-queen · 2 months ago
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🅾🅽🅴 🅼🅾🆁🅴 🅶🅰🅼🅴 // part 1 (Reader x Young-il / player 001)
Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @floatlosers, @alex--awesome--22  @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown, @wildiefleur , @meyocoko , @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedrava-bitch-187, @erikasurfer , @slythetic  , @eliscannotdance, @p0nycurtis
Summary: The games are not what you thought they would be. Forced to stay after the first game due to the votes. While groups are being formed, you find yourself welcomed by an interesting player that took your side. [series]
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If you closed your eyes, you could still hear the bangs.
Never you thought you’d hear a gunshot so clear in your ears, certainly not so repeatedly. It was a wake-up call that you had made the wrong choice about joining. If you knew what you knew now, you would’ve told yourself to turn back. To burn the card and never call that number. If you could, you would’ve taken the high road.
If only your decision didn’t depend on so many others. The x marked clear on your chest patch. You wanted to leave, but because you were outnumbered you were forced to stay. Sitting silently on one of the beds. Sitting all alone. Most people started to form groups. The O’s gathering around as some X’s strayed around like helpless dogs.
Your mind was silent. Trying hard to not freak out and keep your cool under these circumstances. Most of the blood you had wiped away in the bathroom after Red light, Green light. Some unfortunate people getting shot around you. If it wasn’t for that player 456, you wouldn’t know if you’d still be here.
Hands trembling as you could barely hold the sandwich still. Package open on the top with just a bit popping out. The smallest of bite’s taken from it. You kept staring in front of you. Looking over at the other side where the O’s were forming groups and greeting each other. Celebrating their victory of getting to play one more game.
You thought it was ridiculous, for who even knew if they would survive the next game.  Your gaze went to the higher beds, all empty. Till you noticed a small detail. Something black on the wall where on other tiles it wasn’t. Curious about it. Your eyes looking around for more of those.
Even turning your head to look at your side. Seeing the black markings as well. Getting the sudden idea, you got up. Rushed down the platform to reach the ground. Walking backwards to see how you’d get a better look at them.
Tilting your head a bit in the process with a thoughtful expression. Seemingly finding something, you crawled underneath the bed constructions. Crawling closer to the edge. Coming to lay under a row of beds by the wall. Trying to see what was on the walls by looking up.
Squinting one eye shut, you could faintly see something, but not enough to make out what it was. Humming with curiosity. Crawling back underneath from it, you re-appeared in the front once more. Moving more to the centre, turning around to where you’d get a better view.
Your gaze falling on a small group where you recognized player 456 between. Letting your gaze go more up, they seemed to have a better view of getting to see what was on the walls if you could lay down. Lay down and look up to the wall paintings. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
Yet it meant walking over to them. Disturbing them and going through their little gathering to crawl to the lowest parts of the bed constructions. Turning once more around, you wanted to make sure there wasn’t a better way. It was then that you heard the short whistle. Making you turn your head to the side.
Seeing player 230 break free from a group and approach you. He walked casually, trying not to attract attention to him yet it did. – “Seniorita, s’cuse me. – he said, one hand in his pocket. His gaze falling on your number. Then on the X sticking to your chest. �� “You want to leave seniorita?” – he said sounding so smooth, he thought for sure he could charm you. You simply looked him up and down, puffing once with a roll of your eyes.
He started moving his hands in front of him, rapping some rubbish in front of you. – “I can protect you seniorita.” – he finished with a rapper pose. He came sliding an arm over your shoulder, leaning in. You wanted him off, shrugging your shoulder so he understood the hint.
Player 230 moved his hands up with bouncing shoulders. Almost dancing as if he was having the time of his life. He then pointed at you. – “I like…” – he started finishing with forming a heart with his fingers. – “you.” – adding a wink to it to complete his charm. Another player came joining his side. Player 124 with a clear smile on his lips.
Thanos slapped his hand against his chest, turning his head to him. – “This one’s mine.” – he told Nam-Gyu. Nam-Gyu smiled sheepishly looking back at you. – “Seniorita.” – Thanos said coming to circle around you. – “If you like you can fit right here.” – he stopped opening his arm, pointing at it that you could perfectly fit in his arms.
You felt uneasy, unable to escape them. Like vultures they kept you around. Circling you and not letting you leave. Thanos blew you an air kiss. Pointing at the X on your chest. – “We’ll need to change that.” – he said touching your chest shamelessly.
You hoped someone would step in, but clearly everyone here was selfish enough to not. Till you heard a loud voice come through. – “Ya!” – it made you turn your head with a gasp. Seeing player 390 and 388 step aside. Player 001 making his way through. His expression stern and unreadable. Making you swallow nervously as he was approaching. Silencing the room with just his presence.
It even made some people move back to be sure to be out of his way. Thanos clicked his tongue unamused that he would come and interfere with his flirting. Thanos walked closer to him, coming to stand before you. Arms folded. With one hand he waved player 001 away. Player 001 leaned sideways to look past Thanos to you.
“Are you alright?” – he asked you. Thanos moved his head to block out his vision to you. – “What you think your doing?” – Thanos called out unbothered. Player 001 turned his gaze to Thanos with disgust. Thanos wanted to push him back. Before his hand even touched player 001, it got grabbed. Calling it out in pain as his palm got twisted.
Nam Gyu came joining to back his mate up. – “Ya! You jerk!” – he called out shoving you out the way by your shoulder. Player 001 kicked with his foot at the top of his foot. Just where his foot ended and his leg began. A soft spot. Nam Gyu shouted loud in pain, hopping on one foot. Thanos tried to fight back but player 001 already had him. Twisting his arm more that his whole body squirmed in pain.
Player 001 using little effort to subdue them to pain. Nam Gyu came at him again with more anger. Player 001 simply kicking him back so that he fell to the ground. He then grabbed Thanos by his shoulder, having enough of his foolishness. Giving him a kick in the stomach that he doubled over. Thanos needed but a little push to fall over. Groaning in pain on the floor. Player 001’s stern gaze went up to you, making you gasp slightly frightened.
He held his hand out to you. Your eyes lingering on the O on his chest. He had also chosen to stay in the game. Because of him you weren’t able to leave. He kept holding his hand out, waiting for you to take it. Looking down at Thanos and Nam Gyu squirming in pain, you decided to subdue to your protector.
Letting your hand slide in his. Player 001 closed his hand over yours. Gently tugging at you to follow him. Getting in motion, you stepped over Nam Gyu to let him guide you. He turned around, leading you back to the back of the bed constructions. – “Are you alright?” – player 388 asked with concern. You nodded with a soft hum.
“Wha! Those punks have some nerve.” – player 390 added. You came sitting down beside player 222. She smiled shyly back at you, keeping a protective hand over her stomach. Player 001 walking a platform higher to go sit down there. – “Tha… thank you.” – you said not wanting him to think you were ungrateful.
Feeling his tense gaze stare so firmly through you. It made you feel insecure. Unsure what his intensions would be. Shifting your gaze away from him till your gaze fell on the walls. Almost haven forgotten what you were doing. Player 001 narrowed his eyes on you. Wondering what fascinated you this much behind him.
Your attention got pulled away by player 388 shouting loud that you also had an X on your chest. – “She’s an X’er. She’s one of us!” – he called out cheerfully. Player 456 pulled at your tracksuit to see the X for himself. His eyes then fell on your number 400.
You pulled his hand off you, straightening your tracksuit. You looked around seeing both X’s and O’s sticking to their tracksuits. Exhaling loud, you let your face fall into your palms. – “Player 400.” – a deep voice said, making you look from where the voice was coming from. Your gaze meeting with his.
He moved his hand, letting it draw down his jawline to his neck. Widening your eyes, you understood the hint. Taking your sleeve to rub it against your neck. Looking down at it, you saw the stain of blood on it. It made you immediately roll it up so you didn’t have to look at it.
“Lights out in 30 minutes.” – the emotionless woman’s voice spoke over the intercom. It made you swallow nervously that you had to spend another night here. Your eyes meeting with player 222, seeing the same fear in her eyes. Player 456 took the lead to speak. – “Just one more game and we can vote again for our leave.” – he addressed. – “Gi Hun, I’ll sure vote X now.” – player 390 replied with some shame.
“Me too.” – player 001 answered looking over at Gi Hun. His gaze then lowering on you. Remaining there with such comfort. – “You won’t know that for sure.” – you responded keeping your gaze at player 001. You then hinted at the other O’s across. – “They won’t stop at one more game.” – you knew it was a lying hope to think tomorrow would be the last game.
You knew the O’s would never stop. Too blinded by the money and adrenaline of surviving. You got up with a deep exhale. All was hopeless. – “Player 400.” – player 456 called out, making you stop midtrack. You turned round to him. – “I promise you we can turn the tide.” – he said. How cute it was that he still had hope in this deathtrap. – “I’d like that.”- you responded with a faint smile. You were about to head the last few steps down, till you stopped once more.
Wanting them to know your name. Numbers were so unpersonal and you hated being a number. – “Y/n.” – you told them. Looking over your shoulder you saw Thanos throw you a kiss from afar. Player 001 got up. – “Stay.” – he said luring you in with his eyes. Eyes locking with yours, you couldn’t look away.
Debating for a moment if you should find a bed here with this group from a dead player or return to your own. You felt like being torn between two battles. Stay here or venture out there with Thanos and Nam Gyu to find you more easily. Knowing they wouldn’t stop till they had their clutches on you. 
Seemingly finding you an easy prey to manipulate into joining their side. Taking a deep breath, you tried to calm your beating heart. Ready to fall out of your chest that you would endure another night here. Player 222 took your hand, tugging on it. Hurling you back to reality. – “If you have room for me.” – you answered taking your decision. Player 222 gestured at a bed beside hers.
You lowered yourself to crawl to the next bed. Player 001 still watching you till everyone left for their beds. Waiting there. Lying there, staring at the bed above. You rolled over to your side, curling up. Shuddering out a breath. Hoping your dreams wouldn’t be haunted by the deaths. Then. Lights out.
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catchastarorten · 1 month ago
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—Two sides of a coin.
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Pairing: Young-il / Hwang In-ho x fem!reader
Summary: when he went into the games and blended in as a player, he didn’t expect himself to start caring for you so much. However, during Mingle, he realized you might not be so different from him…
Warnings: In-ho & Young-il are interchangeable—I used both in here, violence, death, him being concerned for you a lot, fast-paced, English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, not proofread, sorry!
Word count: ~ 2.0k
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You had caught his attention early on, long before you had even spoken to him. You weren’t like the others—no frantic alliances, no desperate pleas. You moved through the games like a shadow, calculating but not ruthless, detached but not cold. You held people at a distance, but you weren’t cruel about it. That intrigued him.
He watched how the others in his group gravitated toward you, despite knowing next to nothing about you. You let them in just enough to function as a team, but no further. And yet, there were moments when you let something slip—when your guard lowered just slightly, a half-smile at Jung-bae and Dae-ho, a quick hand extended to steady Jun-hee when she winced in pain, her hands covering her stomach.
It made In-ho wonder. Who were you, really? What had brought you here?
More than that—why did he care?
He wasn’t supposed to. He was here with a purpose. Not to get attached. And yet, every time a new game started and ended, his first instinct was to check on you. To make sure you were still there. Still breathing. Still alive.
Like now.
The platform beneath him whirred as Mingle began again, spinning slow but fast enough to disorient, especially in a state of panic, though he barely felt it. The more players lost, the more chaotic it became. Fear made people desperate, and desperate people were unpredictable.
His eyes stayed on you.
You stood with your usual quiet focus, weight balanced perfectly, already anticipating the moment the platform would stop.
The moment the platform jerked to a halt, the voice crackled overhead:
“Five.”
Panic erupted around him instantly.
People lunged, grabbing at whoever was closest, shoving and clawing to form groups. He ignored them all, moving toward you. His hand reached out, fingers brushing your wrist—
And then someone crashed into him.
The impact sent him stumbling just enough to lose sight of you.
His heart pounded against his ribs.
No.
Shoving past bodies, he searched for you, ignoring the hands trying to pull him into groups, or Dae-ho’s constant call for him. The countdown was already ticking down, but his only thought was find her, find her, find her.
Then he saw you.
You had spotted the others—Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Jun-hee, and Dae-ho. They were waving at you, shouting from the front of one of the rooms they found empty.
Four.
They needed one more.
You didn’t make a move right away, your head turning around as if you were looking for something—or someone. Then, your eyes locked with In-ho, the lingering look told him to go with the group, and he felt his breath hitch.
Before In-ho could try to communicate that you needed to be the one who’s safe—you ran.
Not towards the room, but into the waves of people scrambling to find others to get into a room.
He cursed under his breath and ran toward the other four, who all shouted for him.
The doors slammed shut. His breathing quickened by the thought of you being eliminated. What if you didn’t find another group? What if you didn’t find a room?
A moment later, the final buzzer sounded, and the doors locked.
The ones who had failed to form groups pounded against the locked doors, their screams cut short by the inevitable gunshots. The guards moved in, silent and efficient, dragging the bodies away.
It should have been routine. In-ho had seen this before. He had orchestrated it before.
But he barely saw any of it.
Because all he could think was—was she inside?
Had you made it?
When the clean-up was over, the doors unlocked, allowing the players to come out of the rooms. In-ho’s first thought was to look for you in the crowds of players.
You stepped out from another room. Alive.
He felt the air rush from his lungs.
For a second, he didn’t move. Just stood there, taking in the sight of you, as if his mind needed proof. You walked out with that same composed stride, only the slight rise and fall of your chest betraying the fact that you had almost died.
And then—then you smirked.
That soft, knowing smirk. Like you were telling him, I’m fine. See? You didn’t need to worry.
Something inside him snapped.
Before he could stop himself, his feet carried him forward, fast, almost desperate. He barely registered the others, barely cared if they noticed.
He just needed—
He stopped inches away from you.
His breath was steady, but his hands twitching at his sides. He had almost lost you. The realization crashed into him harder than it should have. It unsettled him, made his pulse hammer in a way he didn’t like. He had known fear before, but never like this.
And you—damn you, you just stood there, watching him with those unreadable eyes. You had no idea. No idea how close he was to pulling you into his arms just to make sure you were real. To confirm you were still here. He forced himself to breathe, to shove the instinct down.
You smirked again, tilting your head slightly. “Missed me?”
“You worried me.” Young-il said simply, trying to calm himself, giving you a smile, though it felt a bit forced.
“I saved you too.”
The last round.
The tension was suffocating.
126 players left. Only 50 rooms. It meant 26 people were guaranteed to die if the remaining players were required to form pairs.
You felt it in the way the bodies around you tensed, the way some players shifted closer together, while others eyed their competition like prey.
The platform had barely stopped spinning when the announcement came.
“Two.”
Young-il didn’t hesitate. He didn’t stop to think, didn’t give himself a moment to assess. His body moved purely on instinct. His hand shot out, fingers curling around your wrist in a firm grip, and before you could react, he pulled you forward.
“Come on!"
There was no time to wait. No time to look for anyone else. He needed you by his side, needed to ensure that you wouldn’t be swallowed by the chaos erupting all around.
And it was chaos.
Players lunged for one another, hands grabbing, shoving, desperate to form pairs before the rooms filled. The knowledge that not everyone would make it—that some would be left behind to die—drove them to madness. Some scrambled without thought, others moved with purpose, pulling people down, throwing punches, trampling those too slow to keep up.
The room was in sight.
Not far. Just a few more feet.
Then something slammed into him.
A body, heavy and frantic, slammed into his side with brute force, knocking the air from his lungs and sending him crashing to the ground. The grip on your wrist slipped away as his back hit the hard platform floor.
The player who tackled him was bigger—strong, but wild with panic. His hands clawed at Young-il’s teal tracksuit, trying to shove him back down. A split second’s hesitation in a game like this could mean death. He knew that.
But before he could fully react—before he could twist the man off him and take back control, you were already moving. No hesitation. You grabbed the man’s collar, your grip brutal and sure, and yanked him off with shocking strength. Young-il barely had time to register the movement before—
Crack.
A sickening sound, one that echoed in the madness.
Your foot came down hard, precise, against the man’s leg. The force of it snapped the bone like it was nothing more than a twig beneath your heel.
The man screamed—a raw, gut-wrenching sound—but it was already over. He collapsed, writhing, his face twisted in agony. But you weren’t looking at him, you were looking at Young-il.
And for the first time in a very, very long time, In-ho was stunned. Not by the violence. He had seen worse. Done worse. 
But by you.
The sheer efficiency of it. The lack of hesitation, the brutal finality in the way you moved. You didn’t even look at the man after you broke him. You didn’t hesitate, didn’t tremble, didn’t stop to think about what you had just done. There was no regret in your eyes. No guilt. Just cold, calculated action.
For a single breath, he just stared at you, trying to make sense of what he had just seen, of who he was looking at.
Then your fingers curled around his arm, yanking him to his feet with a sharp, urgent tug.
“Move!”
That single word shattered whatever had frozen him.
He shoved the thoughts aside and ran with you, the chaos of the game roaring in his ears. He could process it later. Right now, all that mattered was survival.
The room was just ahead, one of the few left.
One last sprint.
Young-il pulled you forward, feet pounding against the floor. Almost there. 
You both got inside.
The door slammed shut behind you.
For a moment, the world outside faded, the noise of screams muffled by the walls enclosing you both. The sheer brutality of the game had been left outside the door. Inside was silence, heavy and suffocating.
But then—a presence... A third person in the small room with you and Young-il.
A man stood against the far wall, panting, sweat forming on his forehead.
Young-il’s stomach coiled.
You weren’t safe yet.
“There’s only room for two,” he said, voice calm, controlled.
The man’s breathing hitched. His wild, panicked eyes darted between you and Young-il, looking for a way out, a way through.
“I—I was here first,” the man stammered. His voice wavered.
Young-il stepped forward, his presence looming, his voice quiet but sharp.
“Get out.”
The man flinched but held his ground. Desperation flickered in his expression, the refusal to accept his fate. “No way,” the other player tried to sound firm, his eyes flickered between the two of you again, desperate. “Please.”
Young-il exhaled sharply. There was no point in wasting words.
In a single, fluid motion, his arm shot out, wrapping around the man’s throat. The struggle was brief. Short-lived. The other player clawed at Young-il's arm, his legs kicking as they slowly slid down against the wall.
A sharp, sickening crack filled the air, final and absolute.
The body went limp against him. Dead weight.
Young-il let go of the body.
His breathing was quickened, but his eyes were steady. His heartbeat calm. He had done this before. Many times. It didn’t shake him. Didn’t bother him.
He looked up at you, and once again, you surprised him.
Because you weren’t shocked. You weren’t even remotely fazed. You stood by the door, blocking it, your eyes locking with his as if you had expected this outcome from the moment you entered and saw the other player. You hadn’t gasped, hadn’t flinched, hadn’t looked at him like he just committed some great treason.
You had simply accepted it as fast as it came.
And that—that sent something twisting inside him in a way he didn’t fully understand.
He had seen it in the way you moved, in the way you made decisions without hesitation. He had seen it in the way you had broken that man’s leg without a second thought, in the way you had looked at him after—assessing, calculating, but never afraid.
And now, in the quiet aftermath of the kill, you weren’t recoiling from him either.
No.
You were simply watching.
Like you had known all along exactly what he was capable of. And you didn’t care.
That sent a strange, sharp feeling through him. A curiosity. An understanding.
For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The doors locked with a click as the timer ran out, the sound of gunshots filled the air, the distant screams beyond the door fading as the game ended.
Finally, he exhaled, his fingers twitching at his side.
“We’re alive,” he said, voice steady. You just gave him a nod, turning your back to him as you looked to the chaos outside through the small space on the door.
Young-il rested against the wall, his mind processing all that had happened.
Then, his lips curled, a soft smirk that you couldn’t see.
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pixiepipedreams · 1 month ago
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♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — shaky like the first time our palms met in the clam sweat, heavy focus // in-ho x reader
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♡  ⁄  pairing: in-ho x reader ♡  ⁄  warnings & tags: fem!reader, canon-typical violence & death, obsessive behavior, lying/manipulation, age gap (reader is 20-22, in-ho & gi-hun are late 40s, early 50s), watched/touched in sleep, mature themes, references to sex, anxiety + coping mechanisms ♡  ⁄ wordcount: 5k ♡  ⁄ summary: the second day of the games prevents you from ending up on in-ho and gi-hun's team. it's a mistake that won't be repeated. the least he can do is try to teach you how to play your assigned mini-game. (sorry, we kinda lost the hints of gi-hun x reader in this chapter, but it'll make a return!) THIS IS PART TWO OF A SERIES! (➊) (➌) (➍)
﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵ ﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵
You fell asleep with his hand in your hair, your meandering thoughts only brushing the surface of questioning his own motivations for such a gentle comfort. Young-il is an interesting man, and he's certainly caught your attention - more than you'd admit to. Your dreams offer you respite instead of garish nightmares about the first game, dancing atop a river, the water like silk under your bare toes.
In-ho stays longer than he should. The way you fall asleep so quickly under his touch, despite being a self-proclaimed insomniac, only makes that protective pull in his chest grow stronger. He allows himself his moment of weakness - he already had his conversation with Gi-hun tonight, already fulfilled the daily quotient for his own personal mission. So he allows himself this, this quiet moment of watching you sleep - too long for it to be appropriate, but the only people that will know besides himself are the guards watching the cameras tonight. He's sure to give the closest camera a harsh, leveling glare once you fall asleep. He's still the Front Man, under it all. It also means he knows what angle to turn his head so they can't see any hints of tenderness in his already closely guarded expression. At one point, his hand slips from your hair, tracing down the line of your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lower lip, dipping inside. He catches himself - not as quickly as he should, but quick enough to prevent the stirring of arousal to turn into full on hardness. At some point, he finds himself almost falling asleep, his head resting on the bed next to you, and he forces himself to get up, leave your side, and returns to his own bed. And if he falls asleep only thinking of you, fighting down an erection, well... he's the only one who will ever know.
The morning is rung in with the sound of jarring music, too light-hearted for such a dark place, and an announcer calling the players to prepare for today's game. Your dreams fade quickly, and you blink awake, eyes scanning the room on instinct. You hadn't forgotten where you were, but the odd peace in your chest feels out of place.
It takes you a moment to realize you're looking for Young-il.
You can't spot him in the sea of black haired men and women, and it surprises you just how much disappointment rises in your chest. The guards call for the players to line up. You walk down the metal stairs, slipping into one of the lines.
Finally, your eyes land on Young-il. He's standing in a separate line with Gi-hun's group, which faintly surprises you. After what happened yesterday, you didn't expect for Gi-hun to willingly take in any of the people with a circle on their chest. But Young-il isn't the only one in their little group who voted to continue the games, and you feel a strange pull, like you should join them. You don't. You feel out of place, like you don't entirely belong with them. Maybe it's some residual insecurity from youth, but you stay where you are, eyes lingering on Young-il as he talks intensely with them.
The guards lead all the players out of the dormitories, into the brightly colored great hall. Yesterday, you had found it strange, on your way to the first game - the strange layout, the colorful walls. Today, you find it garish. Images flash behind your eyes, blood splattered in the dirt, a giant plastic doll with all-seeing eyes. Panic threatens to overtake you, and you take a shuddering breath, forcing yourself to focus on what you can see, take in the details.
You were never one for pastels, but you do like the shades of pink and green. Not your favorite, but striking on their own, if you focus on them one at a time instead of their disjointed clash. The architecture is fascinating, and you find yourself wondering what kind of person designed this place. For some reason, you picture a woman, older, nostalgic. You doubt that her own home would have a similar design, but it would be unique, fascinating. No dull corner.
By the time you reach the arena, your chest has settled, your stomach no longer in knots. The doors in front of you open, and you're led into a wide, open area. The walls are decorated with images and writings that imitate an elementary school. It makes sense, with the childish themes you've seen so far in these games. There are two circular rainbow tracks in the ground, and you focus on that, trying to discern what it could mean for the game you're about to play. The tracks could mean some kind of race? Perhaps a relay, where each member has to run the track before passing off the baton? There's five colors, so would that mean five players?
"Welcome to your second game," comes the woman's voice over the speakers. "This game will be played in teams. Please divide into teams of five in the next ten minutes. Let me repeat."
Teams of five. You must be onto something. You were never good at running, but if you had to sprint for a short period, just once around the track, you could manage it. It would be advantageous to find a fit team, but the men would be less likely to take a woman in, with their own biases against the so-called inferior gender.
You're lost in thought when you catch the tail end of an argument nearby. "You can’t have the baby unless you make it out of here alive.
"I don’t trust you. You’re dead to me."
Looking over to the source of the voices, you spy a woman walking away from player 333 - that youtuber that Thanos fought yesterday, if you recall correctly. The woman's stomach bulges, even though she hides it under her tracksuit jacket - definitely pregnant. All of you are here for your own reasons, but she definitely doesn't belong here, and the 'X' on her chest fills you with guilt for putting her life on the line for a chance at getting enough money to settle your father's sins. Your heart aches for her, and before you can think better of it, you approach her.
"Can I help you find a team?" you ask abruptly, stopping her in her tracks. She looks at you warily, like she's not one to accept help, compelled to take care of herself alone. It's a look you're all too familiar with, one that lingers in your eyes behind your bathroom mirror.
"I don't need your help," she mutters, moving to push past you. You grab her wrist - firm, but not tight, eyes searching her face.
"Please. It'll be hard, to convince a team to let a woman in... let alone one of your condition. I can help." A comforting smile traces your lips. "I can be very persuasive if I need to be."
She hesitates, but it's enough. Self-preservation wins, in a place like this. The nod she gives you is small, but it's enough. Your hand slips into hers, and you tug her along.
Most teams don't even meet your eyes, and the few that you do approach together dismiss you quickly. Some of their expressions hold a trace of guilt, likely wondering if their denial will be sending the two of you to your deaths, but it's not enough. Self-preservation. Selfishness.
Maybe greed.
You try to stay optimistic, but the timer still ticks down. Eyes scan the room, desperation pinching at your chest, a frantic flutter to your heart, but you don't let it show on your expression. Just like before, in the dormitories, it takes you a moment to realize what you're really looking for, who's face you need to find. But this time, you find him quickly, smiling amiably with his group. There's no time for hesitation, your body pushing through the room, player 222 dragged behind you. When you finally come to a stop in front of them, your eyes flick from Young-il to Gi-hun. "Can she join you?" you ask, slightly breathless, 222 still behind you.
"Sorry, we've already got five people," one of them says, but your eyes are on Gi-hun's, searing. He owes you nothing, but you know he cares about the players in this game, that every death burrows deep into his heart. His eyes are weary, hesitant, but he doesn't break your gaze.
"Please," you say, stepping to the side. "She's pregnant." Your voice is determined, firm, and shock flashes through the group of men. Gi-hun's lips part, but he doesn't speak, perhaps stunned into silence. Hesitation.
There's no time.
You finally look at Young-il again, to find that he's studying you. There's surprise in his expression, but not even a hint of uncertainty. His eyes are intense, like always, and there's an edge of something... concern? Curiosity? Fascination? He's hard to read again, his face no longer easy to read in a group of people.
"Of course, she can join us," he says quietly, taking charge, eyes searching yours. You nod, relief seeping into your shoulders, and you release her hand.
"What about you?" 222 asks, catching your gaze before you walk away. Your eyes flick to the timer on the wall - thirty seconds.
"I'll figure something out," you mutter, then rush off.
It doesn't take long, this time, to find a group standing uncertainly, with only four members. The older woman and her son, a timid looking girl, and a tall woman who carries a certain strength that you instantly respect. It's not an ideal group, but you don't have time to be picky.
"Let me join you?" The words spill out, your own desperation probably obvious, but you're willing to bet they're just as desperate as you are.
10 seconds. The tall woman, player 120, looks at you, only pausing for a moment before responding. "Yes."
"Thank you," you say, bowing your head slightly, your shoulders sagging in relief. It doesn't last long. The announcer's voice rings out, silencing the chatter of the room. Time is up.
The guards call for the teams to sit in the center of each circle, lined up in your groups. Almost by design, Gi-hun and Young-il's team ends up next to yours, Young-il directly next to you with a gap separating you. Sitting with crossed legs in the dirt makes you feel like you're in kindergarten again, sitting on a multi-colored rug, surrounded by peers.
The announcer's voice again. "The game you will be playing is Six-Legged Pentathlon. You will start with your legs tied together. Each member will take turns playing a mini-game at every ten meter mark, and if you win, the team can move on to the next one. Here are the mini-games. Number one, the Ddakji. Number two, Flying Stone. Number three, Gonggi. Number four, Spinning Top. Number five, Jegi. Your goal is to win all the mini-games and cross the finish line in five minutes. Please decide players for each mini-game."
The blood drains from your face. You have an idea of what Spinning Top could be, but the only game listed that you're familiar with is Ddakji from your time with the recruiter. You can still feel the sting of every slap from your losses. You weren't good. Everyone in the room starts strategizing urgently, but all you can concentrate on - and concentrate is the wrong word entirely, your mind clouded with dread - is the way your thoughts swirl into darkness. If your team dies, it'll be because of you - not because of the trembling player 095, or the frail mother. You're the weak link, unskilled in these children's games, dragging everyone down into blood-soaked dirt with you.
"(Y/N)," Young-il whispers, reaching out to put his hand on your knee. The touch is like a jolt, and you almost flinch, your eyes instantly flicking up to meet his. It must be obvious, your panic. "I told you I'd help you, didn't I? We'll figure this out," he says, his eyes imploring you, your entire world focusing into his narrowed gaze.
You take a shaky breath, eyes scanning his face, trying to notice every detail, small features to adore. The crinkled lines by his eyes, evidence of a happier time. Bags under his eyes, and dark eyes that have the power to hold anyone in place. Aged skin, but smooth, soft looking. Bushy eyebrows. A hint of stubble. The shape of his lips...
The caged bird in your chest settles, and your next breath is a deep one. You nod slightly, eyes meeting his, and something in his expression eases. "I trust you," you murmur.
Something a little darker enters his eyes, but it's gone in a flash, like it was never there to begin with.
He lets go of your leg, turning to his team, but the calm in your body stays.
"Player 132," 120 calls to you, capturing your attention. "Do you know any of the games?"
You hesitate, then tentatively say, "I only know Ddakji... and I wasn't very good, against the recruiter."
120 looks oddly sympathetic, but there's a determined edge to the anxiety in her eyes. "Alright. Flying Stone is pretty simple - you throw a stone at another stone, trying to knock it over. Gonggi is definitely out - that requires years of practice--"
"I can do Gonggi," the older woman says firmly, leaving no room for argument. 120 nods.
"Jegi is simple. You kick a weighted paper jegi in the air a set amount of times, not letting it hit the ground. Spinning Top requires some skill, but it's not too hard to master, just requires calm hands and speed. You wrap some twine around a top, then throw it to the ground, trying to get it to spin."
"Uh-- could I take Flying Stone? I've never been good at jegi, and I don't have the precision for Spinning Top," player 007, the son, cuts in, looking a little nervous.
"That leaves Spinning Top and Jegi. Are you good with your feet?" 120 asks, not even skipping a beat. You have to admire her resolve - it's comforting, how she takes control. You're so used to handling everything yourself, that it helps to have someone else who knows what they're doing.
You shake your head slightly. Admittedly, the only game that you thought you had a good chance at was Flying Stone. You've always been clumsy from the waist down, and you've never played hacky-sack, which Jegi reminds you of. 120 stares at you for a moment, then nods. "It's decided, then. You take Spinning Top." Her eyes flick to player 095, and they begin discussing who should take Ddakji and who should take Jegi.
You stare at the ground, hoping your team doesn't get called first. If you get to watch a group play Spinning Top first, maybe you'll have a chance.
As the room settles again, the announcer's voice crackles over the speakers, instantly capturing your breath. The guards gesture for a group from each side to get to their feet, and you sigh in relief - you're not first. As the teams line up and get buckled together, Young-il murmurs your name. You look over instantly, your nervous eyes locked with his. "I got Spinning Top too," he murmurs. "Let me teach you how to play."
You smile, but it's barely a quirk of lips. "We don't have a top," you remind him.
"It's all about the motion," he says intensely. "You can do this."
It's the best chance you have, and you find yourself nodding.
As the game starts for the first groups, Young-il goes into explaining how to correctly wrap the twine. "The first thing you do is wind the twine around the axle. From there, you wanna wrap it tightly around the first three loops." He mimics the wrapping motion, and you nod, trying to visualize it. It's definitely different than it is in America - there are no grooves for any kind of twine back home, just the axle to spin the top from. "You wrap the rest of the twine, and then hold the end of it tightly - tightly - between your pinky and ring finger. It puts the top on a leash, gives you control." One of the teams succeeds in a game, and you glance over, the cheers of your side calling for your attention. "Hey. Eyes on me," Young-il says, firm and commanding, and your breath catches. You couldn't even dream of disobeying, your head snapping to look back at him. His lips quirk, almost forming a smirk, but it's gone as soon as it came. "The next part is all about speed. You hold the top in your hand, then flick your wrist out, throwing it. With the twine still between your fingers, you pull your hand back quickly, almost like a snap." He mimes the motion - flicking his wrist, then pulling his hand back. It's a fast movement, one that makes your own hand shake. You can't do this, there's no way you can be good enough at this game to pass before time runs out. Anxiety seizes your chest, and you take a few quick breaths, staring at his hand. Details. Focus. Smooth palms, square in shape. Rounded, well-maintained fingernails. Deep lines over the shape of his knuckles. Strong hands, that he only needed one of to take down a grown man.
You wonder what those hands would feel like, tracing the shape of your skin.
The thought startles you, but at least you've regained some steadiness. Your heart thumps for an entirely different reason now. One hand reaches out to cup the back of yours, almost gently, and you feel a shiver run down your spine, despite everything. The same hand that pet your hair until you fell asleep, perfectly at peace. His other hand reaches out to take your wrist. He curls your fingers for you, holding an invisible top, and shows your hand the movement slowly. Then again. His palm is warm, but his fingers are cold, and if your dizzy mind weren't already devoting all its energy to the task at hand, you'd find it poetic, metaphorical.
He gestures for you to try the motion again, and you do. You repeat the movement over and over, until the speed comes naturally to you.
Hope enters your chest, the sun dawning through the blinds, and when you look up at Young-il again, he has a small, proud smile on his face.
One of the team reaches the Spinning Top phase, and you turn your head, watching with rapt interest, finally seeing what had only been an image in your mind before. The man playing isn't very good - on his first throw, it simply clatters to the ground. Your chest clenches in sympathy. The team has to march again to pick it up.
"Hmm. I think messing up Spinning Top is gonna take even longer to recover from," player 290 leans over to say to Young-il. He narrows his eyes at him as he leans away, and your heart pounds. It's not comforting.
"Ignore him," Young-il mutters to you.
You nod faintly, focusing on the team as they get back into position.
The games continue. The timer runs down. It feels like every second passing is a needle in your gut, pinpricks of pain and nerves. And just like that - time runs out. The panicked cries of the players on the tracks fills you with dread, and you make a small, wounded noise. Young-il grabs your arm, tugging you until you almost fall over yourself into the dirt, pulling you against him. He hides your face in his chest, but you can still hear the begging, and then-- the gunshots.
You bury your face in his chest as he strokes your hair, trying to soothe you again. It doesn't work like it did last night. Distantly, you wonder if this is even allowed, but no guards command him to let go of you, or for you to go back to your spot. You take the comfort, eyes squeezed shut. No tears come, just a hollowness in your chest as he presses his face into the top of your head.
The guards clean up the bodies. Eventually, Young-il pushes your head lightly. The coast must be clear, but you're reluctant. Still, you let him. He cups your cheek, holding your face so you can look into his eyes. "It won't happen to you," he says firmly, his voice hushed, urgent. "I won't let it."
You give a dry laugh, humorless. "You wouldn't be able to prevent it, not in this game," you whisper. Focus. Details. The warmth of his hand, the fire hidden in the depths of his eyes, where his expression is usually so cold. The twist of his lips, not quite a frown, but something more determined. His hair, falling over his forehead.
You breathe. Once. Twice.
"Players 007, 095, 120, 132, 149." A guard is standing at the end of our row, his masked face directed at your group. Young-il lets you go, and you only tremble slightly as you get to your feet.
"I believe in you. You can do this," he says, one last parting gift of comfort, and you try to believe him too.
You're led to the track, taking your place on the blue line. Your legs get shackled together, and you try your damnedest not to think of anything at all. You're between 120 and 149, the tall woman and the old one. You link arms, feeling for all the world like you're being sentenced to death.
In-ho stares at you as you walk away, knowing there's not much he can do to prevent your death if you fail in this game. It's a mistake that won't be repeated. Despite your surges of anxiety, you'd surprised him with your focus, with the way your panic eased the longer your eyes traced over him. It made him feel... important. He's already important, it shouldn't matter. He leads these games, is always in control, but he'd never factored in an American girl with a strong will, with searching eyes that seemed to take comfort in him and him alone. He catches the gaze of a nearby guard, his eyes holding a warning, a threat. If you die, he will personally ensure that any guard or player that had a hand in it will die too. When he's sure the message is received, loud and clear, he looks back at you, in time to see your head turn, your eyes finding his. He offers no expression of comfort, just his intensity, that possessiveness that settles deep in his very soul. If you, or one of your teammates fails this game, he'll still have to watch you be shot, albeit non-fatally. Painful, but necessarily. He doesn't feel as in control of himself as he usually does, or as in control of the games, and the dark part of him finds it thrilling, new. It's not new. Another remnant of the man he used to be, but the lack of control is so foreign now, like a childhood friend he hasn't seen since high school, finding him once more. Every other part of him is frozen, holding its breath, waiting for the verdict on your demise.
Your eyes find Young-il's, his gaze locked on you. His expression is unreadable, but you have a feeling he won't take his eyes off you, and it almost feels like he's your guardian angel. The guards finish chaining you together, and you look forward, daring to hope.
The pentathlon starts.
The first game is Ddakji. Player 095's trembling hands hold the folded paper, and you wonder how a girl like her ended up here. She can't be much younger than you, but still, you feel a decade older watching her.
She doesn't flip the ddakji on the first throw. She picks it up again, and you're distantly surprised her fumbling fingers don't just drop it in the attempt. Another throw. Another miss. She picks it up. Your stomach sinks as she misses the next one, too, but then 120 throws her a bone, a tip. 095 throws the paper again. It flips.
"Pass."
The crowd cheers for you, and your team moves on, marching in time with the beat of your heart. Game two, Flying Stone. One of the first two teams didn't even get past it. 007 takes the stone that's handed to him. He throws it, misses. 120 calls out, organizing your march forward. You stop in front of the stone, and he leans down, grabs it.
"Okay! Now, we go backwards!"
All of you chant the march of your steps backwards, until you end up behind the line again. None of you can afford the time loss of him missing again, especially you, when you haven't even played your own mini-game before. You find yourself calling out encouragements, words that are almost meaningless. His mother grabs him, murmuring something about pretending that the stone is the face of someone who wronged him. His face contorts, he winds his hand back. A cry of words is wrenched from him, like a battle call, and he throws the stone.
The other stone falls.
"Pass."
The crowd cries up, the excitement of everyone growing, but you can only focus on marching forward to the next game. Gonggi. Only one away from your turn. You all kneel together on the ground. This is the game you know the least about, and as the older woman starts, you find yourself fascinated by the movement of her hand. She fumbles, a piece drops.
"Mom, you said you played Gonggi with bullets during the Korean War," her son says urgently, and the reminder seems to light a fire in her. She lasers in like you've never seen from a woman her age as she starts again. You don't understand the game, but the quick and nimble movement of her frail hands impresses you, gripping your lungs. You don't breathe, just watching, mesmerized. The pieces are thrown into the air, then land on the back of her hand. Her son speaks again, giving her the same lifeline he'd given her, something to imagine, to motivate.
The pieces are tossed up.
She catches them in her fist.
"Pass."
The crowd roars, and you almost stumble as you get back to her feet. It's your game next, but the determination of your team, the palpable excitement in the room, infects you like the best kind of virus. You come to a stop, and 120 releases your arm as you take the top and twine. Your fingers are surprisingly steady as you wrap the end of it around the axle, your mind on Young-il. The first three loops are wrapped tightly, and you finish winding it, eyes zeroed in on every movement.
You arch your arm, preparing to throw it.
As you move, though, your eyes catch on the blood on the ground, from the team before you. You falter. It doesn't help that you didn't grip the twine tight enough between your fingers, and it slips from your hands. Your heart stops. 120 grips your arm encouragingly. "C'mon--" she says, her voice urgent. You almost forget to take the first step as your team chants. One, two. One, two. It only takes a few steps for you to reach the top, and you bend down, grabbing it, trying to take deep breaths. Your team march backwards. One, two. One, two. You're back in place, and you hold the top and twine, hesitating for just a moment. You don't dare look at the timer. Breathe. You wrap the twine around the axle, the first three loops, then the rest. You grip it, the end of the twine held tightly - tightly - between your fingers. Focus. No time for the details.
As you wind your arm back, you feel the ghost of Young-il's hands, guiding your motion. His warm palm, his cold fingers, leading the way.
You throw the top, and with a flick of the wrist, pull your hand back. The top lands on the ground.
It spins.
"Pass."
The crowd erupts, and your teammates grab you. You can hardly breathe, joy overtaking you. One last game. One more. You march together, pride swelling in your chest, even though it's not over yet. You didn't let your team down. You didn't ruin this.
You come to a stop, and the paper jegi gets passed to 120. It looks nothing like you expected, and definitely not as heavy, and you're glad this isn't the game you chose.
"No one watch me, okay?" 120 yells to you and the team. You blink in surprise, but you don't question her, turning your body away as much as the constraints allow, patting 149 to do the same. "You too. Everybody turn," 120 calls out to the crowd. The reason is lost on you, but you can only assume that everyone listens, because you hear the jostle of paper being thrown up into the air, followed by the first smack of it against her foot.
One...
Two...
Three...
Four...
FIVE.
You cry out in victory and excitement, turning as you hear the final smack of paper on foot. "You did it, you--"
"Pass."
Everyone is yelling and chanting for your team, and the rhythm, the synchronicity is easy to find after doing this together so much. Unison. Comradery. When you pass the finish line, you almost don't believe it, but the roar of the crowd fills your ears. You want to collapse on the spot.
As the guards come up to unlock the shackles tying you together, you find Young-il's eyes. Easily, this time. You know exactly where he is, after all. He's got his arms wrapped around his teammates, celebrating with the rest of him, his eyes on you, only you. The pride, the sheer relief in his expression is practically a physical thing, and you smile at him, feeling drained, but like a winner. He saved you.
You wish you could run to him, throw your arms around him, celebrate in his arms. But that's not an option. The guards finish releasing you, then gesture for you to follow them, and you only have time to mouth 'good luck' to him before you're escorted away.
As the doors shut behind you, you remember that your own victory doesn't secure his. There's a chance that he won't make it back to you at all.
﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵ ﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵
♡  ⁄ taglist: @pursued-by-the-squid @in-hos-wife @bloooooopblopblop <33333 @nellabear @gloriousjellyfisharcade @politicstanner @xcinnamonmalfoyx @beebeechaos @delfinadolphin @bbrainr0t @ineedazeezee
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strawbearyxx · 1 month ago
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⊹˚⋆ જ ꒰ in-ho as your bf ꒱ જ ⋆˚⊹
warning, he’s toxic asf i can’t imagine him being a good bf
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡
~ stares at you all the time, everyone else thinks it creepy but you lowk love it
~ obsessive over you and insanely possessive
~ will try to control you whether you like it or not, you’re too scared to disobey him
~ his kisses are always filled with desire, seeking to claim you as his own
~ would kill anyone who he thinks is a threat
~ makes you cry so he can be the one to comfort you and wipe away your tears
~ “i’m sorry baby, i’m here okay? shh, we’re alright, don’t cry now you know i love you”
~ spoils you and gives you every material thing you’ve ever wanted
~ controls who you can see, when you can see them, what you can wear, etc.
~ has moments where he seems like he’s going to stay sweet to you, but it never lasts long
~ loves leaving marks on you and doesn’t let you hide them
~ makes you tell him you belong to him after an argument
~ has you wear showy outfits just for him to see, buys you a tonnn of clothes you’re never allowed to wear outside
~ loves punishing you for doing something wrong, he makes up new rules all the time to get more chances to
~ the second you cry to someone about him, they disappear
~ sends the salesman to follow you when you’re out
~ his touch is possessive and he's always holding your waist when you're around other people
~ you can't help but give in to his desires because he's so tempting
~ "you're mine, you know that? no one, and i mean no one, is allowed to touch you like i do. say it now, tell me you're mine"
~ acts like he worships you sometimes to give you a false sense of security
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡
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insidekatmind · 12 days ago
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Night~Young-il
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Wearning: +18,smut,age-gap, manipulation.
In the chaos and brutality of the game, Young-Il was your only refuge. During the day, you watched him move cunningly, talk to the others, influence the group’s decisions, always finding a way to get what he wanted.  But at night, when darkness fell over the room and danger crept in the shadows, he always came back to you.
You curled up in your uncomfortable bed, shivering from the day of blood and fear. He would come silently, lie down next to you, and wrap his arm around you. His chest would rise and fall slowly, and you could feel the heat of his body against yours.
“Are you afraid?” he would ask, his voice softer than the one he used with the others.
You would nod, holding onto him. Young-Il would sigh softly and stroke your hair with slow, confident movements. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he would murmur. “I’m here.”
You didn't know why, but you felt safe with him.
You smile and lean into him more. “Thank you,” you whisper softly.
Young-Il runs his fingers through your hair, almost unconsciously, his touch gentle and soothing. “You don’t have to thank me," he says. "Just… try to get some sleep.”
You close your eyes, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing, the slow rise and fall of his chest. It’s like a drug, his closeness, the way he seems to hold the world at bay.
“You know,” he says suddenly, “you look beautiful like this.”
You smiled at his words and moved closer to him, bringing your ass onto his crotch.
He inhaled sharply, a small gasp escaping him as he felt your body press against his. You could see the shock in his dark eyes, the surprise that you would initiate such an intimate touch. But his hand on your body didn't move, it remained still, his fingers gripping your hip firmly.
You were starting to fall asleep and you were a heavy sleeper so you weren't understanding anything.
He watched you, eyes dark and calculating as you drifted off against him. The way you snuggled in a against him, unconscious of the effect you were having on him. He could feel his self-control slipping, the way his body was reacting to the closeness of your body against his.
Young-il begins to rub himself a little on your ass, feeling his annoying erection.
He let out a soft groan, a sound he wasn't sure he wanted you to hear. But you were asleep, completely oblivious to the effect you were having on him. He could feel the warmth of his body against yours, the gentle pressure of your skin against his. His hands traced your curves.
Young-il tried to force his thoughts back under control, but it was difficult. Your body was soft and warm, and the way you fit against him felt so right. It was maddening, the way he couldn't have anything more than this, the way he would be risking everything if he let himself give in to this desire. He groaned again, his hands trembling on your body.
While you were sleeping, he pulled down his sweatpants and boxers and slowly pulled down your sweatpants and panties and touched your butt.
He looked down at you, his breath catching in his throat as he touched you. Your skin was soft and smooth, and he couldn't help but run his fingers over your curves.
He tried to be gentle, to not wake you up, but his body was on fire with desire.
He looked down at you, his breath catching in his throat as he touched you. Your skin was soft and smooth, and he couldn't help but run his fingers over your curves.
He tried to be gentle, to not wake you up, but his body was on fire with desire.
Young-il brings the tip of his cock to the entrance of your ass, without letting it enter.His breath hitched as he felt the tip of his cock against your entrance. The sensation was almost too much to bear, and he closed his eyes, trying to control himself.
He slowly moved his hips, rubbing himself against you, feeling your body react to his touch even in your sleep.
He continued to move his hips, slowly increasing the pressure as he pressed himself against you. He couldn't help but let out a soft moan, his control slipping further and further away.
His hands moved up your body, tracing your curves, his touch becoming more possessive and needy.
He sighs as he begins to grope your breasts over your t-shirt and continues to grind against your asshole.
He groans again, his hands squeezing your breasts through your shirt, his fingers digging into the fabric as he tries to hold back.
His hips move faster now, his body craving more of you, more of this forbidden pleasure. He buries his face in your hair, inhaling your scent, trying to distract himself from the overwhelming sensations.
He continues to grind against you, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He can feel himself getting closer to the edge, his body teetering on the brink of surrender.
He buries his face deeper into your hair, his lips brushing against your ear, and whispers, "I can't stop... I need you so much..."
With one sharp thrust he pushes his cock into your asshole while you continue to sleep. He lets out a strangled moan as he pushes into you, the sudden intrusion taking your breath away.
He holds still for a moment, his body trembling with the effort of holding back, but then he can't resist any longer. He begins to move, his hips thrusting rhythmically as he seeks his release.
He continues to thrust into you, his pace increasing as he loses himself in the pleasure. The feeling of your body around him is intoxicating, and he can't hold back any longer.
He keeps slamming his cock into you like a hungry man. He loses himself completely, his mind consumed by the feeling of you, your body, your warmth. He's never felt anything like this before, and it's driving him wild.
His grip on you tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as he holds you close, his body moving with a primal urgency.
“Even in your sleep you're a good girl,” he says, feeling how well you were taking his cock.
He chuckles softly, his voice a low growl against your ear.
"You're taking me so well, sweetheart," he whispers, his lips brushing against your skin. "So perfect for me."He continues to thrust into you, his movements becoming more erratic as he chases his release.
He lifts your leg, his hand wrapping around your thigh and pulling it up, giving him better access to you.
He thrusts deeper, his movements becoming even more desperate as he feels himself teetering on the edge. "God, you feel so good," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin.
You moan in your sleep without ever waking up. He grins at your unconscious response, his eyes darkening with lust. "You're a perfect little dream," he says, his voice low and rough.
He continues to move, lost in the feeling of you around him, the way your body moves with his. He's completely consumed by you, addicted to the pleasure you give him.
You come and your limbs tighten around his cock. He gasps as he feels you tighten around him, his hips jerking as he reaches his climax.
"Oh, god, I can't... I can't hold back anymore," he moans, his body shuddering with the force of his release.
He buries his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he rides out the waves of pleasure.
He groans against your skin, his body shuddering as he fills you with his release. "Fuck, you're mine," he whispers, his voice hoarse. "All mine."
He collapses against you, his body spent and trembling. He holds you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you, as he tries to catch his breath.
"You're mine," he repeats again, his voice softer this time. "And I'm never letting you go."
Young-il swore he would keep you alive and fuck you every night as his reward.
He had already made that promise to himself the moment he had laid eyes on you. He knew he was addicted to you, and he was determined to keep you safe and satisfied at all costs.
He would protect you with his life, and if that meant keeping you under his control, so be it. He would have you whenever and wherever he wanted, and he would make sure that you always craved him as much as he craved you.
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filthygalli · 2 months ago
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About the series: Inspired by the song "When I Met You" By: APO Hiking Society. It's about two people who are neighbors; one is grumpy and the other is a sunshine. They try talking to each other and have a good relationship as neighbors. Little did they know, they're slowly falling in love with each other; neither one of them wants to make a move about it, looking at each other...hoping that either will offer to do something that they both desire but are unwilling to do.
Genre/Tags: Grumpy x Sunshine, Light smut, Fluff, Angst, Slow burn, Age gap (Reader is in her early 30’s, While In-Ho is in his late 40’s.) Rude In-Ho (but will eventually be soft with the reader Soon!) Literature Professor! In-Ho (Not specified what kind of literature) More Tags to come soon!
Started: 01/20/25
Last Updated: 03/05/2025
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CHAPTER 1 : Package
CHAPTER 2: Cat Sitting
CHAPTER 3: Iced Americano Pt.1
CHAPTER 4: Iced Americano Pt.2
CHAPTER 5: Dinner
[In Progress] CHAPTER 6: Sick Day
[In progress] CHAPTER 7: Take my breath away...
CHAPTER 8: TBA
CHAPTER 9: TBA
CHAPTER 10: TBA
Other chapters: TBA
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© to the owners of the dividers that I used for this master list.
Let me know if you want to be in my tag list for this Series.
< Main Master list | Squid Game Master list >
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lost-in-thoughts03 · 27 days ago
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Into You // Young-il
Summary: Your classmates are shipping you and your best friend, causing your professor to walk out.
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" But close ain't close enough. 'Til we cross the line."
Warning: Slight angst, jealousy, confession, touch deprived Young-il, forbidden love, age gap (Young-il is in his 40s and reader is 25), and student x teacher (again)
You are laughing aloud with your best friend on the way to your classroom. He is making sarcastic comments about your pet peeves, pointing out their strange actions and how repulsive their mindsets are. In addition, he tells you foolish stories and amusing jokes that only the two of you will comprehend.
Along with exchanging ridiculous yet hysterical jokes, the two of you are clapping your hands like a damn penguin.
Keiron opened the door for you and let you in first before he went inside. Your eardrums are nearly destroyed by the loudness of the classroom. The combination of different noises made by your classmates.
In the room, they are hurling papers and taunting the nerd. The bullies hurried to their seats when Keiron yelled at them.
Kieron got you a chair and allowed you to take it before him. He was seated beside you.
Now, your classmates are looking at you both. They are both cheering and teasing you about your best friend.
They are all shipping you with him.
" You two are basically a couple!" One of your friends raised an eyebrow in jest.
Another one chimed in, " Seriously, have you seen the way you look at each other? It's like you're in your own world."
Your cheeks began to flush, and you turned to look at him—your friend, who had always been there but now appeared to have a different role in your life.
He smiled sheepishly as he met your gaze, but you could tell he was tense. Recently, you two had been getting closer, but this? This was not like the others.
“ Stop it!" You said, trying to laugh it off. " We're just friends.”
" Don’t lie to us! You are in a relationship!" One of your peers yelled. You went to your seat after flushing and attempting to cover your red cheeks with your palm.
The door suddenly opened and your professor Young-il appeared. When he walked in, they fell silent. A few of your classmates inquired about his day and offered to help him set up the monitor, which he gladly accepted.
He smiled his brightest in front of you and clapped his hand. He pushed his glasses up to his nose for better vision. He is looking around the room until he finds you.
Your male best friend and you are sitting there laughing at your ridiculous jokes. The sight of you with another man made Young-il's smile disappear. He tried to distract himself by thinking of something else, and he pursed his lip.
" How are you all today?" He asked everyone.
The fact that your classmates are shouting back at him made Professor Young-il laugh. " Everyone, calm down. I know…I know you have already had a lot of rants about other subjects." He laughed as he spoke.
Professor Young-il is the most awesome teacher you have ever encountered. You do not have to worry about him if you followed his rules; if you didn't, he might be strict. He assigns passing grades to his students who fulfill their scholastic obligations.
Professor Young-il is incredibly enthusiastic about his work. He ensures that all of his students learn during his lessons. Additionally, he asks his students if they need any clarification on the subject, and he will merely restate it in a straightforward definition. If the majority of you missed his point, he will not move on to another subject.
The majority of his students are crushing on him because of his admirable qualities. Because their professor is too attractive for his age, they are simping on him. They could not believe this man was almost fifty. He seemed younger than the other professor here.
You are beginning to feel something for him, and you can't deny it. Like your other classmates, it was a foolish crush. You can't help but blush whenever he calls your name, and it gives you the chills when you unintentionally brush your skin against him.
You're aware that this feeling is morally wrong because you are fantasizing about your own teacher. You must therefore keep your feelings for him hidden in order to prevent misunderstandings. It's already clear to you that he will never treat you better than his student.
“ Since the midterm is approaching and I want everyone to get ready for their upcoming tests, we will not be having any discussions today.” He began to speak.
The good news has you and your classmates jumping and cheering. Professor Young-il chuckled at your adorable response. He can’t deny, though, that he is jealous of your friend, who is essentially keeping his arms around your shoulder and giving you a playful hug.
“ Ayiiee!” Your classmates shouted at you when they saw how close you and your friend were to one another.
You are instantly dragged out of your embrace with him, and you attempt to conceal your blushes from the shame.
" Do you know, sir, that Y/n and Keiron are now dating?" Nam-gyu commented. He laughs more when you give him a glare.
" Look, they are hiding it!" Your classmates continue to make fun of you.
“ For your information, Nam-gyu, I'm not dating him!” You screamed at him. As a result of your response, Nam-gyu and his foolish friends are now laughing.
“ Denial is the river of Egypt!” Ming-su went on.
However, Young-il didn't find it funny. When your classmates made jokes about your friend, he didn't reply or smile. Young-il clenched his jaw, pretending he did not feel anything. However, if you probed him closely, he would admit that jealousy would cause him to blow up.
“ Class, settle down.” The class falls silent as he raises his voice. Professor Young-il is leaning against the board with his arms crossed.
His lip is being nibbled as he tries to control his sudden annoyance. He sighed and said, " I changed my mind; we need to discuss now. We waste a lot of time." He stated with firmness.
" Sir, you already stated that we will not have class today because you want us to prepare for the upcoming exams?!" Hyun-ju intervened.
Professor Young-il's hands slammed against the table. You were all taken aback by his unexpected outburst. It's easy to see how awkward and silent the classroom is.
Young-il took off his glasses and walked out of the classroom. With a quick, stern look in his eyes, he gave you both one last look before leaving the classroom, abandoning the place a hive of activity.
Your friends exchanged puzzled glances, but you were too preoccupied with what had just happened. The teasing had faded into the background, leaving a lingering question.
You can hear murmurs in the room. Your professor's altered behavior is the topic of conversation among all of your classmates. When your best friend asked you what had happened, you simply shrugged your shoulders since you were also unsure of the answer.
" Y/n, what if you need to find Mr. Young-il as our class beadle? We must apologize to him because we have treated him disrespectfully." In-su's statement prompted your classmates to agree.
There is nothing you can do but comply with their request. You excused yourself and left the class. While you are strolling down the hallway, you are mentally preparing your speech about your professor.
Also, you scratched your nape because you did not know where he was going, but your mind says otherwise.
You asked the faculty department where Professor Young-il was, but they were also unaware of his whereabouts. When you inquired about his office, the school administrator gave you directions straight away. You thanked them for their help as you walked out of their office.
You have been in his office for a long time now. The lengthy walk you took to look for your fucking professor has left you gasping for air. You breathed out as you knocked on the door.
When no one picks up, you knock again. With a sigh, you made the decision to go, but then the door opened and you were pulled inside. You nearly stumbled, and you heard the door lock.
It appears that you arrived at the wrong moment because your professor was sweating profusely and his clothes were not yet fixed. You used your hand to cover your eyes so you would not see anything else, which made your fantasies about him become worse.
His table is strewn with all of his possessions, and there are pieces of tissue on top of it. You turned to look at your professor, who was still taking a deep breath.
" Are you alright, sir?" You asked him in concern. He appears to have run a thousand miles before arriving here, as he looks like shit—a handsome type of shit.
He gulped. “ What are you doing here, L/n?” His tone carried a trace of surprise. Young-il straightened himself by buttoning his pants and buckling his belt.
You pretend that you were unaware of his actions. It's impossible to avoid feeling ashamed because you may have disturbed the person while he was engaged in another activity.
You swallowed. “ Ahm…you…ehrm…” Your voice trailed off. Sweat started trickling into your face. Despite the fact that everything around you is freezing, you are still sweating profusely.
Young-il couldn't help but grin when he saw how anxious you were, merely trying to formulate your words in an attempt to combat the awkwardness between you two.
He approached you. He squeezed both of his hands firmly onto your shoulder and patted them there. The sensation of his rough hands against your flesh makes you hitch.
“ C’mon, don't be nervous, L/n.” His voice was husky. His voice is so deep that it makes your underwear dripping. You tensed your thighs to keep from experiencing this emotion.
“ I will not bite unless you say so." He snarled right in your ear. The only thing you can do is close your eyes and battle the inner demons that are constantly bothering your innocent mind.
Young-il is reaching down to touch your arm. His other hand is on your waist, and he is gently caressing you while he waits for you to speak. He draws you in and presses your body against him to gain a better position.
Something hard poked your thighs, and you shivered. You remember seeing him put his phone in his pocket earlier before you went in, so you assume it was his phone.
“ Ahm…I'm here because—” You let out a moan as Young-il bit your skin and licked your neck.
“ Why did you stop?” He asked naively.
You gulped and went on. " I'm here because my classmates want you to return to the classroom and apologize for their behavior earlier." You have completed your sentence.
You heard him chuckle as he drew away from you. You both sense that the room is getting hotter, and you both know what you two want.
When Young-il's mouth opened, he quickly closed it again after saying nothing.
Once more, his expression was unreadable as he pursed his lips. Professor Young-il is very enigmatic, and you can not tell what his true feelings are unless he can essentially show them to you all.
He had not previously allowed you to see the rawness that was now present in his eyes. The silence between you two was heavy and thick.
Finally, he spoke again, but quietly this time. " I've tried to keep things professional. To ignore how I am feeling. But seeing you with him, hearing you talk about how your friends perceive you two together—it's hard." He began to speak.
You scowled, not understanding what he was saying. “ Beg your pardon, sir?” You asked.
Young-il grinned and took a step toward you. He is looking right into your eyes. His eyes are hypnotizing you. The range of emotions you are experiencing at the moment is causing your chest to pound so violently.
" You really don’t get it, do you?" There was a sharpness beneath the softness of his voice.
You blinked in confusion. “ Ahm…sir, could you please elaborate. I'm having trouble understanding your words." You beseech him.
He did not say anything as he observed your shifting facial expressions toward him. He licked his lips to keep from blushing in your presence. As a professional, it isn't cool to him.
You let out a sigh. " If you are not interested in answering my question, allow me to ask you."
" About earlier," You began, a little shaky in your voice.
" What was that about? What made you leave like that? I don't get it.” Your thoughts are racing right now. You desperately want an answer from him so that you can finally be at ease.
Because you have always noticed that Professor Young-il's mood shifts when you are with your best friend. In this way, he abruptly and without explanation exits the classroom. All you want is for things to be clear. You simply don't want to make any assumptions until he gives you a clear response.
Avoid assuming unless explicitly stated.
His eyes never left yours as he let out a sharp exhale. " I've been keeping it hidden for a long time, L/n. I thought I could simply ignore it. But as time passed, it became deeper and deeper, and I couldn't stop it anymore."
" I can't stand seeing you with him. Your best friend will do anything to get your attention, but here I am, being deprived of your attention.” He was so frustrated that he combed his hair.
" The way he looks, touches, and smiles at you makes me want to smash his face." He's looking at you, and when he talks about your best friend, a fire ignites in his eyes.
His hand slides to your jaw and then grabs your chin. " I don't want another idiot to steal what's mine." He let out a growl.
You were so surprised that you slapped him and shoved him away. The sound of his skin cracking loudly against your palm was loud.
As he touched the area of him that hurt, his jaw tightened. “ I'm…I'm sorry. Gosh, I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to slap you.” You nearly burst into tears before leaving.
However, a firm hand grabbed your wrist before you could get to the door and dragged you back to his arms. Young-il nearly strangled you with his tight embrace. He is stronger than you, despite your best efforts to break free. Thus, you simply allowed him to embrace you.
He sniffed your scent while resting his head on your neck.
" I've kept it hidden for a long time…My feelings towards you. I never imagined I would fall in love with my student. I thought it was a disgusting idea for me to feel this way about you." He admitted.
The realization struck you like a shock of electricity as his words lingered in the air. The person you had always admired from afar, Professor Young-il, harbored feelings for you.
What you are truly feeling at the moment is difficult to describe. The fact that the person you have liked for a long time likes you makes you happy, but you are also sad and afraid of what might happen if you keep looking at each other in this manner.
" But this is absolutely wrong, sir." You murmured into his chest. Young-il gave you a tighter hug. He strained himself further.
You drew away from his hug. " Why didn’t you say anything?" You asked, almost breathlessly.
" Why did you have to wait till now?" You added.
A tiny, irritated laugh escaped him as he combed his hair. " Because it's wrong. Y/n, you’re my student. I didn't want to jeopardize everything for an uncertain outcome.”
" But I can't deny that it hurts when I see you with someone else, when I see you happy with him." He went on.
The realization of his suppressed feelings and the overwhelming wave of guilt for whatever he must have been suppressing caused your stomach to turn.
" Professor, Young-I—”
His voice was low as he stepped closer and interrupted you. “ I'm aware of how complex it is. However, I had to say it. You had to know."
Neither of you said anything for a long time. The silence between you two felt like it had lasted forever, as if this conversation had been waiting to happen all along.
At last, you raised your head to speak softly to him. " What now?"
With a hint of sadness in his eyes, he smiled wryly. " I don't know. But perhaps we should both figure out where we stand. I can't continue to act as though I don't give a damn about you."
The words weighed heavily, as if they were an implicit pledge. However, neither of you was aware of the outcome. You were only aware that everything had changed at this precise moment.
Should I make part two? 🤔
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saymio · 2 months ago
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In Ho headcanons | (NSFW)
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Pairing: Hwang In-ho (player 001/the front man) x Fem!reader
Genre: headcanons, smut
Warning: dead dove do not eat, manipulation, dub/noncon, age gap, might be more but im too lazy to write it down
A/N: not proof read. thanos story in the works rn!! I have writers block so to help a little I'm making some hcs 4 this baddie (prob ooc)
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hwang inho, the man that protected you from Thanos and his stupid friend during the first day of the games. he shoo'ed them away. stopping their harassment and took you with him with the rest of the group
hwang inho, the man that gives you his milk. reassuring you every time that its okay for you to have it, and it'll help you get stronger.
hwang inho, the man that checks up on you throughout the night. standing over you to make sure you're getting your nights rests. making sure no creeps try touching your delicate skin.
hwang inho, the man that lets touches linger a little longer than they should, whether its on your hands, thighs, waist..his touches feel more than platonic
hwang inho, the man that tells the guards to make sure you stay safe, to kill a player that hasn't broken the rules if they had to. anything to make sure you stay safe.
hwang inho, the man that would excuse himself to the bathroom just to touch himself to the thought of you. whether its your calm voice or plush hands that feel so soft and delicate...he just couldn't help it.
hwang inho, the man that squeezes your thighs when no ones looking...and when you express discomfort he used his past generosity as an excuse for it.
hwang inho, the man that will kiss you in the middle of the night with no warning. telling you to be quiet and take the kiss because if it were any other man it would've been worse.
hwang inho, the man that will find the perfect timing to sneak away from everyone else with you. he'll make you strip for him in the bathroom. savoring every inch of your body before he sends you away, leaving him in there alone to masturbate.
hwang inho, the man that wont let you sleep. he'll grope and squeeze your thighs, tits and ass. feeling you up while you hold in tears.
hwang inho, the man that reminds you this is your fault when you cry to him during a bathroom strip session. expressing how uncomfortable this makes you and how you don't want it anymore.
hwang inho, the man that will tell you nothing in the world is free. and your body will be the payment he receives for being so generous with you.
hwang inho, the man that gets hard thinking about your age gap. how youre only 19 and he's in his 40's..he loves it.
hwang inho, the man that slips his fingers inside of you when the lights are off, fingering you aggressively. reminding you once again that it'd be so much worse if he wasn't such a nice man.
hwang inho, the man that captures you during the raid against the guards. forcing you to stare into the eyes of your past friends as he kills them.
hwang inho, the man that keeps you as his pet after the games end. reminding you you're lucky because he spoils you with money.
hwang inho, the man that doesn't let you socialize with anyone after he's gotten his grip on you.
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Another not: this one is pretty short compared to my last fic, this was to just try n get me out of writers block. expect a Thanos fic to pop up tmr. sorry if this sucked/was ooc, I tried my best T T~~
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cosmictheo · 2 months ago
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𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘 | hwang in-ho
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( gif credits to @lalaray )
—summary: for some reason, player 001 seems to like you a little too much, way more than you think. amongst the chaos after the mingle game, he gets closer to you. —pairing: hwang in-ho/young-il/player 001 x female!reader —word count: 4.5k —warnings: bro has a lot of names, +18, smut !!! (minors dni), most definitely ooc!in-ho, descriptions of the reader having female genitalia, some porn with some plot, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, slight voyeurism? (a guard outside the bathroom listening all the tea💀), sub in-ho!!!, obsessive, possessive behavior, mentions of stalking, slight manipulation, in-ho being a slut for the reader, they want each others bodies so bad, panic attack, blood, killing, yk usual squid game stuff.
writer’s note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!
ᯓ✶ part one ── part two
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The first thing you saw were Young-il's eyes, and then you sensed his hands resting on your shoulders, a subtle touch but one that struck your entire core, sending shivers up and down your spine, snapping you out of the trance of shock, drawing you back to reality and back to him.
“Hey, hey, shhh...” he spoke softly, leaning close to you, making all you focused on was him, his voice, his eyes, the way his lips uttered your name. Him, him, him...
“Young-il?” you breathed out, matching your respiration to his ever-calm one.
He nodded his head slightly, his fingers stroking your shoulders soothingly. “You're okay. You did so good. It's over now” his soft whispers felt like an anchor back to earth, anchors you were clinging to with all your might.
“I got you” he assured you, helping you to your feet again. It was only then that you noticed that you were still in the room set of the third game, there was only you and him left in the arena, and the multitude of bodies sprawled around the bloodstained floor, of course. Noticing your gaze drift to the dead people, his hand lifted to your chin, standing right in front of you to block your field of vision and reduce it to just him, his serene face and piercing eyes, “Just look at me, angel. Keep those pretty eyes on me, yeah?”
He delicately pleaded you, his thumb tracing patterns of grazing caresses on the skin of your chin, treating you as carefully as possible. 
And you complied, of course, succumbing to the gentle darkness contained within his eyes. Like a little lamb falling into the wolf's trap.
“There you are,” a little, honest smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
A couple of guards were standing near you, watching you in silence and strangely, allowing Young-il to comfort and help you during your panic attack. The first one you had since you had arrived in the horrifying place, you hadn't cracked once, holding a tough and fearless armor.
“You are safe with me. Nothing will happen to you,” his other hand moved down from your shoulder through your arm, igniting a warm flush on your skin under the passage of his palm, all the way down to encounter yours, his fingers intertwining between yours. “I'll make sure of that, okay?”
You merely manage a trembling nod, holding his gaze. His reassuring, gentle demeanor was all you needed at that moment, in that strange place, full of strangers, he seemed to be the only familiar sight to you, the light among all the ruthless darkness. And his face, exuding concern, completely captured your heart.
Young-il offered you that one protector figure you always needed, that someone to rely on and trust even in your darkest moments.
“Come with me, please” one of the guards, the one with a square outlined on his mask, interrupted your moment, stepping up beside you, his gun pointed at the ground and not at either of you, thank goodness. His voice held a diplomatic, yet polite tone, glancing at the two of you. Young-il glanced at him with a scowl on his face, not too happy that the guard had popped onto the scene, apparently, his gaze went ice cold in the span of a millisecond, “Sir, miss, you need to go back to the main room with the other players.”
“The lady needs to freshen up a bit, could I accompany her to the bathrooms?” Young-il asked— no, rather, he actually demanded of the armed guard, his demeanor shifting to an authoritative one, straightening up and looking at the masked man with imposing eyes.
The guard looked from Young-il to you and back to him, finally nodding his head just once after a few seconds of contemplation, looking at him too long, nearly as if he was considering Young-il's expression, “Of course. Come with me, please.”
You did not decide to comment on the strange behavior of the guard, even they had been acting like human beings, empathetic and considerate. You really couldn't think of anything much at all, all you could focus on was Young-il's hand placed on your lower back as you walked together through the winding, ridiculously colorful corridors and staircases inside the seemingly infinite building.
His touch had your mind a fuzzy blur and the panic and self-doubt in your veins had already been well forgotten, replaced by a state of constant flushing, feeling so small next to him. The feeling was a good one, though. Definitely.
Ever since you had met him he had seemed to have a special liking for you, always making sure you were safe and secure, putting you above the others, making you feel protected and seen. Before every game he made sure he stayed by your side, willing to take whatever risks were necessary for both of you to come out of it alive. Gi-hun had told you a couple of times that he liked you, much more than a friend, but you refused, huffing that it wasn't the place to think about that, much less regarding a man who was married, supposedly. The two of you had really bonded so well, as if you had somehow known each other for a very long time before this.
Once you were in the bathrooms, Young-il closed the door behind both of you, leaving the square guard just outside, and then guided you towards the sinks, opening one so you could take a sip of water.
“Let me...” he quietly whispered, rolling up the sleeves of his turquoise tracksuit and soaking his hands for a few seconds before raising them to your face, running his fingers gently across your cheekbones, removing traces of blood droplets that had been lucky enough to land on your skin, he thought to himself. For some reason, everything felt more intimate than it should have.
You stood in silence, watching him with big, attentive eyes as he wiped your face delicately, as if your skin were the finest porcelain. All that could be heard for a few moments was the water running from the sink and the thundering beat of your heart, desperate to flee out of your chest and leap into his.
“Young-il?”
“Hm?” he hummed, very much focused on cleaning your face, his countenance encouraged you to ask him anything you wanted, it was peaceful and gentle.
“Why do you care so much about me?” you dared to ask him, in a low tone, brave enough to hold his gaze, which softened at your question.
He held back his hands, pulling them away from your face very slowly, analyzing your flushed face for a few moments, contemplating an answer.
“You're special. Very different from the others.”
Young-il sympathized with you, with your history, your person. Usually when he looked at you, he saw his old self, from before all this. He saw in you the good side of things, your good heart, your innocence and kindness, you were much more than a pretty face. He could see past your usual gloomy and pouty face, past your sharp and too cunning eyes, you were too much for that place. And that's why he intended to take you out of there and keep you with him, to have you by his side to care for you and provide for you.
He was excited about the idea of getting to know you further, like a new game in which he had to crack his way through. And In-ho, he was good at games.
You blushed slightly, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, “Special?”
Young-il spun around, allowing you to see his side profile as he washed his hands in the sink, concealing the impulse to smirk as he noticed the immediate effect his words had on you. He had you right where he wanted you. 
Now he wasn't wearing his usual dark mask, capable of covering his each and every emotion, no, now his expressions and gestures were for everyone to see, so he had to try a little harder than usual to be cautious. As you too were very careful and cautious, always attentive to your surroundings, you had figured out the objective of the last games as soon as you arrived at the arenas. It had been a record, no other player had been as interesting and quick-witted as you. You only needed a couple of minutes, a scan through the walls, the equipment brought by the guards, and you already had the answer. You were a prodigy. Not even he knew what you were doing in there to begin with, when you should have been in the best university.
You would definitely be a favorite of the filthy V.I.P.'s and that, for some reason, made him uneasy.
“Mhm...” he hummed once again, wetting his face now, refreshing himself as well, thoughtfully, “That makes you dangerous.”
His eyes held a slight playfulness as they met yours now, and his pupils expanded as he watched you step closer to him, unwrapping your sweatshirt from around your waist and lifting it up to his face, gently wiping and drying his skin with it, running the cloth carefully over his cheekbones, forehead and chin, drying every drop of water, sweat and blood that rolled across his skin.
“Why?” you tilted your head, big, interested eyes watching him intently as you carefully wiped his cheeks.
Young-il gazed at you for a few seconds, feeling himself swooning at the careful way you were treating him. He cleared his voice subtly before replying to you, in all honesty, “You're the only one I care about in here.”
Usually In-ho encountered with people who looked at him with fear, with trembling hands, hesitant voice and submissive manners. Most guards were like that with him, he was the Front Man after all. Just a movement of his fingers, a word emitted by his voice, was enough for the whole building to move at his command, for anyone to race to do what he ordered.
But you... you simply reached out to him, touched him, treated him with care, with gentleness and softness, looking at him with warm and sympathetic eyes.
“No other person makes me feel both weak and strong” he rasped out, quietly, his warm breath brushing against your lips, which gaped at his words, his choice of words, “That's dangerous for a man like me”
You motioned to pull your hand away from his face, but he was quick to grab your wrist, stopping the movement.
“Young-il, you're married, I can't—” you hurriedly opted to go the right way, trying to talk some sense into him, shaking your head softly, blinking several times within a single minute. Your heart was already starting to beat faster and he could feel it through his thumb placed on your pulse.
He shook his head, seeking your gaze, his fingers gently squeezing your wrist, not wanting you to move too far away from him.
“I'm not married. I lied” he revealed to you, almost desperately. There was no reason for him to lie to you on that, because he knew that you were someone he could trust, and that everything that was going to happen there, would remain within those walls. A little complicity. A minor crack in the script, in the whole scheme that he had been working on for weeks.
You let him grab your wrist and the jacket of the tracksuit you had previously held in your hand fell to the floor, making a muffled noise that echoed off the quiet walls of the bathrooms. Your brow furrowed slightly, not understanding what he was talking about now.
“You lied? Why?” you asked in a low tone, as if anyone could hear you. It seemed, at least it felt like too private and all too intimate a conversation for anyone to overhear.
“I didn't want to push you away and scare you with my... life resolutions” Young-il lowered your hand now joined with his, looking at you with brighter eyes than usual, “It was the wiser thing to do.”
“Resolutions?” all you appeared to be doing was asking and asking, and In-ho, right there and then, was willing to answer all you wanted to know. Your tone of voice drifted into playfulness, void of judgment or disgust, on the contrary, you reassured him, “All of us here have made bad choices in our lives, that's why we're here. We're all the villains of society”
“Villains...” he repeated, savoring the word and approving it with a gentle nod of his head. Then he tugged on your hand, lifting it to his face, placing an affectionate kiss on your knuckles, doing all of that while keeping eye contact, “But you're not bad, not like them, not like me. You're just so good, angel.” There was the petname again, and it held the exact same effect as when he first called you that, making you blush softly, your legs trembling just barely, your core reacting instantly, your body succumbing to his, longing for him.
His fingers caressed the palm of your hand tenderly, “You have no blood on your pretty hands, no perversity in your little head, no, you're a good girl. You always have been, right?”
He read you like an open book, even though you had been cautious and reserved since the games had begun, you had not let anyone in, much less pass over the walls you had built around yourself. Yet in the span of a few minutes, Young-il had ripped them apart, tearing his way through them, into you.
You caught a glimpse of pity in his eyes.
“You don't have a debt, you just don't have anyone out there waiting for you, to take care of you, provide for you” At his words, you gulped, watching him kiss your knuckles once again, making your heart race, then his lips kissed your pulse on your wrist, and after that, he tugged you closer, placing your palm against his chest, making you feel the beat of his heart as well, “I could be the one. I could take care of you, protect you, give you everything you want. There wouldn't be anything I wouldn't do for you and those eyes. You'd just have to stick by my side, look pretty for me, hm?”
In-ho had been watching you, of course, ever since you had met Gon Ji-cheol in the subway, ever since you had encountered Gi-hun. He knew your life completely, he had grown obsessed with you. You were everything he needed, everything he wanted, the missing piece in his new life. The anchor he desperately needed, yearned to hold on to.
And to your flesh he clung, his lips making a path of light, but tentative kisses on the back of your hand, across your skin, up your arm.
“Young-il...” you breathed out his name a bit stunned by the whole sudden confession. At the sound, he felt his limbs tremble, his lips had reached your bicep and it wasn't until he kissed your shoulder that he opened his eyes so he could look at you with raw adoration, his breath joining yours at the closeness.
“I'll get you out of here, safe and sound. I won't let them touch a hair on your head” he promised, reassuring you, pulling you in, inviting you to slip into his orbit, “I just need you to trust me”
Your eyelashes grazed your cheeks as you blinked slowly, your hand rising to his shoulder, thumb brushing his neck, “How will you do that?”
“Trust me” he pleaded, staring at you for a few seconds before leaning down into you, both of his hands landing on your waist, holding you against him, his face nestled into your neck, he began to press his lips into your skin, kissing it. You close your eyes in utter pleasure, feeling yourself getting all aroused, suffocated by all the attention, the sweet words, his desire for you. 
“Would you do that for me?” he rasped out against your skin before kissing it, sucking lightly, “...hm?”
You nodded, swallowing hard, his lips rapidly kissing your throat, and suddenly, everything was him, his mouth, his breath, his hands squeezing your waist. Him... 
You lifted your chin, allowing him more access to the soft flesh of your neck, seductive lips exploring every inch of your skin.
“Yes”
“That's my girl” he cooed with tenderness, kissing your neck one last time before pulling away from it so he could look at you, not even letting you breathe the air that had slipped out of your lungs for the entirety of his doing, before he was kissing your lips like a starving man.
He breathed against your lips in between frantic open-mouth kisses. He almost felt himself melt as his ears were blessed by the delightful little noises leaking out of your mouth, panting and low moans escalating up your throat.
“Young-il…” you whispered his name, your voice sheepishly lowering as you noticed the look in his eyes, your hands clasped around his neck, fingers trembling from the thrill and sudden shame that shook you.
“Jump” he said, his tone of voice heavy with command, his hands reaching around your waist and down onto your ass to lift you up effortlessly onto the side of the sinks, balancing himself tight against you in between your legs, which wrapped around his hips and pressed him further into you, under an instinctive impulse.
You panted against his lips as you felt his erection against the inside of your thigh, his body eagerly surrendering to yours in desperation.
His commanding voice and face were something that really turned you on even more, if that was even possible. It wasn't usual for him to be this stern with you, he was usually like that with the other players, with strangers, always cautious, quiet and tactful, meticulous of his every step and every word.
“W-wait— we're going to fuck in h-here?” you somehow managed to asked in between frantic, breathless kisses, barely opening your eyes, catching him with an expression of raw lust, pupils fully dilated now.
Young-il smirked playfully, allowing you to catch your breath for a moment, hands caressing your skin appreciatively beneath the fabric of your shirt, before dropping down and laying on either side of you against the sinks, veins bulging against his skin, “You want to do it in the other room? I don't mind having an audience.”
His little tease and the way he tilted his head made you blush furiously, fingers nuzzling the back of his neck, curling between locks of his hair.
“The guard will hear us...” you tried to talk some sense into him, whispering quietly to him, leaning your head even closer, as if you were little kids sharing a forbidden secret.
But Young-il stood his ground, kissing your lips shortly, to reassure you, noticing the worry in your big eyes, “Don't worry about him, don't worry about anyone,” his hand snaked between your bodies, spreading your legs a little further apart, “He won't hear a thing, they never hear or see anything. Not if they are ordered not to”
One of his hands reached up, stroking your hair soothingly, sensing the softness of your locks between his fingers. You were perfect, perfect. And he just knew he could lose all track of time, if it meant letting himself fall into you, touching you, feeling you, worshipping you.
"Lift your hips for me, yeah?”
Obedient, you lifted your hips just a little, letting him pull the hem of your tracksuit pants down your legs, taking it out of the way of obstructing his path into you.
“I know you want this as much as I do, you don't have to say it,” he cheekily smiled, looking up at you once he had lowered your pants down until they were at the level of your ankles. On his journey upwards, he kissed the side of your leg, your knees and your thighs without taking his eyes off yours, he was ruthless and you looked so pretty to him.
“Your body speaks to me, it has spoken to me since the first game. I've noticed the way you look at me. You are a naughty girl.”
You heaved a sigh, closing your eyes and pulling your head back as his hand dipped into the center in between your legs, feeling the wetness of your panties and the heat, your cunt pulsing around nothing. Your hands, now on either side of you clasped onto the ceramics of the sinks, your back arching beautifully.
You can't help the way your body trembles, flutters and simply submits when his finger rubs your swollen clit through your panties, feeling your face and your whole body flush, feeling a sudden wave of embarrassment at the magnitude of his words and the enormity of all that was happening.
“Look at you,” he cooed, eyes locked on your pussy once he had pulled down your panties with precise but desperate motions, ran his index and middle fingers through your slick folds, making you moan, “you're soaking wet for me, just for my kisses? Fuck, you are so beautiful. My pretty, dirty girl. Letting herself be touched by a stranger.... but then again, not a stranger at all, hm?” his voice almost sounded mocking when it reached your ears, “I need to taste you,” his gaze moved up to your face, and he looked nearly pleading, he licked his lips in anticipation, fingers sinking just barely into the small entrance of your core, “may I?”
“Please—” You at once nodded feverishly, almost whimpering over the words that rushed into your throat, “Yes! Please, Young-il, please—”
He dropped to his knees in front of you, slouching closer, sinking right between your legs, his hands lingered around your knees, squeezing them against him with a possessive hold.
“In-ho” he corrected you, flushed against the skin of your inner thigh, pressing kisses along it, all too drunk already by your intoxicating scent, his mind going fuzzy with desire, the urge to make you his, “Call me In-ho”
You didn't even pause to doubt what he was telling you, Hell, you'd call him God if he asked you to. You were in the palm of his hand, on full display. His lips kissed your sex and you mentally thanked fate for putting you there, with him.
“Say it” he ordered, just before he plunged his tongue deep between your folds, knocking all the little breath left in your lungs. “Say my name, angel” the vibration of his voice against the most sensitive flesh of your body clenched the knot deep in the bottom of your belly.
“In-ho” you named him between shaky whimpers and little moans, like a prayer. One of your hands dropped to his head, fingers sinking into the black of his hair, tugging it and making him hiss against your cunt. “In-ho...”
In-ho, In-ho, In-ho...
“Good girl”
God.
He ate your pussy like it was his very last meal, lapping and drinking in everything you had to offer, every bit of wetness from you. The slurping noise burst through every wall of the bathrooms and suddenly, you didn't give a shit if the guard outside heard you, you didn't give a shit if all the guards heard you. 
They could be right there watching you, you couldn't care less, it wouldn't change the way you tugged at his hair, how your eyes rolled back and the way he was gazing up at you from below, kneeling perfectly between your legs as if they were the gates to heaven.
His tongue seemed familiar, his fingers squeezing your thighs, his eyes locked with yours, his lips kissing your sex with no breath, all the breath he needed was you. He didn't feel like a stranger, your body acquainted him, perhaps in another life. It all felt like deja vu, a reminiscence.
Your muscles tensed and he felt it through his tongue. You were about to cum, and your throat felt scratchy from all the moans and whimpers rasping through it.
“Gonna cum, baby?” he coaxed, pulling away from your cunt for just a couple of seconds, sneaking a hand in and pressing just barely at your entrance with a couple of fingers, kissing your clit and sucking it just right, “Yes you are,” he grumbled endearingly, his tongue tracing caresses all around your clit now, looking up at you.
“You're so tight” he marveled, watching in awe as your cunt eagerly attempted to suck in his fingertips, clenching and struggling to fit them. “Look at her, so eager... such a good girl, aren't you?” Once again he leaned into your clit, kissing, sucking and caressing it with his tongue, already too pussy drunk to stop. “Cum for me. Cum on my tongue, yeah, just like that”
“Holy shit, In-ho—” you hiccupped, feeling tears blur your vision, a wave of pleasure unleashing from deep in your belly. You moaned his name like a prayer, pressing his head closer to your cunt on an instinctive impulse, “Mmph!”
Maybe it was seeing his chin and mouth all dripping wet of you, or his dark, deep eyes marveling at how your pussy squeezed tight around his fingers, or his other hand sliding up under your shirt, finding one of your breasts and flicking your nipple. Maybe it was all of it, either way, you were cumming like you had never cum before. Your whole body was shaking and succumbing to the overstimulation. Succumbing to him.
In-ho gulped down everything you gave him like magic waters.
“You taste better than I imagined,” he confided, licking his index and middle finger as well, catching every trace there was of you that he could possibly consume as if it were honey.
Then, he kissed your pussy once more before standing up, sending shockwaves of electricity through your whole body with his touch, his hands settled on your hips, holding you so you wouldn't fall.
And he just smirked. He moved closer to you and kissed your mouth, making you savor your own taste through him, his hands appreciatively caressing your thighs, swiftly pulling up your panties back on.
“You're perfect, perfect,” he smoothed against your lips, his forehead leaning close to yours and he kissed you again, praising you, holding you tight in the afterglow of your orgasm, “My girl, my favorite girl, so good for me"
“We need to get back before someone starts to get suspicious,” he mumbled softly, helping you to your feet and pulling up your pants, always holding you with his hands and strong arms.
“B-but,” you retorted, your hands gripping his shoulders, still feeling your legs a little wobbly and unsteady, your dilated pupils and half-closed eyes following him as he arranged you, “I want to-”
He interrupted you, grinning warmly, stroking a lock of your hair away from your forehead before kissing your lips once more, as if closing a deal, a promise, “There will be time. Be patient, princess. We don't want the others to find out about my favoritism, do we?” seeing you still looking a bit confused, and still denying with your head, In-ho smiled playfully, “That would be very unprofessional of me, so this will be our secret”
This time you kissed him, sealing the secret.
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voxslays · 1 month ago
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THE MONSTERS GONE — SQUID GAME MEN
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HWANG IN-HO
✈︎ The second you even slightly sit up or move around, he’s up. In-ho is a very light sleeper—especially after years of doing his job and being ready for attack at any moment. He’s scared of something bad happening to you. So, when he sees you crying, a part of him breaks.
✈︎ In-ho is a listener. He will sit for hours and listen to your sweet, heavenly voice (in his opinion) speak, and this is no different. In-ho is soft at heart, beneath the cold exterior of the broken man he is. He understands your troubles, and wants to fix them.
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THANOS
✈︎ When Thanos wakes up from his deep sleep (due to his drugs), only for his ears to be filled with a nearby sobbing, he’s confused. Thanos carefully looks around, tapping his fingers on his chin, until he finds you. You’re sitting up in your bed, your head in your hands, sobbing.
✈︎ This just won’t do—not in the Thanos world. The rapper quietly gets out of his bed, and nonchalantly walks over to you, spooking you. “What’s wrong, Señorita?” Thanos isn’t good with his words, but he’s more than willing to let you cling to him as you cry it all out.
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SEONG GI-HUN
✈︎ After surviving all six games, and the newest addition, Six-legged pentathlon—He knows the feeling. So, when you wake up in the middle of the night crying, your bed next to his, he can’t help but feel the need to protect you from the horrors of these games.
✈︎ Gi-hun (with your permission) climbs into your bunk and holds you close as you sob. He does his best to reassure you that your fears are valid, but he would never let any hard come to you during these horror filled death games.
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KANG DAE-HO
✈︎ Being the absolute sweetheart he is, a part of Dae-ho’s heart breaks when he hears your quiet whimpers. Night terrors aren’t new to him either. Because of his PTSD from the marines, he experiences them quite frequently.
✈︎ He will crawl into your bunk, and cuddle you to sleep, gently brush your hair out of your face. Dae-ho will gently run his fingers over your features, admiring every inch of your beautiful body.
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wtfaniii · 1 month ago
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My boy only breaks and repairs
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Summary: When he found you, you were drowning in debt and sadness, he took your heart and made sure to put it together piece by piece until one day… that same man breaks it once again
Warning: age difference, not much, death, I wanted to write something sad, sorry, I was listening to the night we met while doing this.
Hwang In-ho x fem reader Sang-Woo's daughter
He promised you to come back, that he would not do anything reckless, but he never did, you knew that your father loved you despite the hard life he led, you knew that despite his firm and indifferent attitude he cared about you.
That's why your heart broke into pieces when a small black box with a pink ribbon appeared at your door that August morning. It was a bitter presentation for what that box contained, inside were your father's broken glasses, the glass was smashed and one of its supports was broken in half.
It was easy for you to deduce that something bad had happened to him, that he would probably never come back.
You were right.
That morning you collapsed hugging the broken glasses to your chest, trying to hold on to a vague memory where you were still happy with him, when you were still four years old and he carried you on his shoulders while you ate ice cream.
Your world fell apart that day, your grandmother couldn't talk to you again because you couldn't look her in the face knowing that her son was dead and not being able to tell her just so she wouldn't go through the same pain as you.
Despite your deep pain, the same people who followed Sang-Woo so that he would pay them what he owed them did not stop, they followed you for weeks so that you would pay, they did not believe you when you told them that he was dead, they thought that you were helping him hide, so all their threats and warnings fell on you.
A year later you were just as desperate as your father, his debts accumulated and your life was in danger, you were going to give up, you wanted to end the suffering you were going through so without having a completely clear mind you stood on the edge of a bridge in the middle of the night.
But just when you wanted to push yourself forward someone came from behind you and pulled your hand to the opposite side, making you fall onto the cold and wet pavement.
You quickly stood up, believing it was one of those thugs following you, but as soon as you looked up you saw a man completely unknown to you.
But you were not a stranger to him.
After the games in which player 456 was the winner, In-ho was curious about player 218, the most intelligent and cunning man he had seen in years. ¿How was it possible that when he was about to win, he decided to redeem himself?
he thought him was stupid.
But after having done extensive research on him, he came to the conclusion that he was not stupid, he was just a poor man desperate to survive but also motivated by his daughter who was waiting for him at home, Sang-Woo knew that if you found out the horrible way in which he obtained money, betraying and killing his friends and innocent people, you would never forgive him ¿What kind of example was he going to give you? That's why in his last breath he asked Gi-hun to take care of you, unfortunately the winner was also too traumatized and hurt to keep that specific promise.
So In-ho decided take the promise, something he had never done, he investigated you and reached out to you, he believed that giving you a memory of your father would be enough to calm your anguish, that's why he left you the glasses, but seeing that this caused your descent into sadness even more he decided to take a more drastic measure.
—¿Who are you? —You asked, looking at him carefully, he could see the mix of emotions you were experiencing through your tired eyes.
—I met your father
In-ho took a step closer to you and extended his hand, waiting for you to take it.
It was a small gesture but significant, no one had given you a hand to help you stand up in a long time, you hesitantly accepted the gesture and took his hand to get up but as soon as you did the tears escaped your eyes and that was when In-ho realized how broken you were.
You realized what you were about to do, the weight of your own actions fell on your shoulders and you realized how much your father missed you.
—I miss him a lot... —You murmured through tears as this man held you in his arms.
In-ho's heart squeezed in his chest when he saw you like that, it was strange, he barely knew you but inevitably the memories of his own pain after the death of his wife settled in his mind, he knew that feeling that the world was falling apart, as if millions of blades were stuck in his body every day, each memory and the impotence of not being able to do anything to end that feeling.
He didn't say anything, he knew you didn't want to hear encouraging words, you just wanted comfort and a shoulder to cry on, he connected with you through that pain, he silently hugged you and let you vent until you were tired of crying.
He told you his name, he gave you comfort, security and help, you were in a vulnerable moment and somehow that felt like the greatest gift anyone could give you.
He gained your trust and when you least realized it, you already loved this man who could be the same age as your father.
In-ho knew that seeing you in the city was dangerous, his brother knew who he was and what he did, if he found him it would be the end of an entire empire, so he asked you to accompany him to the island.
You hesitated a little but you finally accepted, you had nothing to lose and you definitely didn't want to be alone again, you hated the simple idea, your brain and all your instincts told you to oppose that request but your heart made the affirmative decision, you accompanied him.
You didn't know what he did, In-ho made sure to keep that part of his life a secret and told you that his job was a small organization that raised money funds to donate to those in need, what a bullshit lie.
Soon you began to smile more often, an expression on your face that you thought was dead, for In-ho your smile became a small ray of light that illuminated his dark life.
One day like any other you entered him office with a radiant smile and a yellow spring dress decorating your body.
—Well… ¿What do you think? —You asked, spinning on your heels in front of him, letting the bottom of your outfit rise a little in the air.
—You look beautiful —He admitted, looking away from the paperwork that filled his desk, documents about upcoming games but that you ignored —Yellow is your color.
You smiled happily at him and walked towards his desk, cautiously he hid some papers under others and let you hug him from behind as you usually did, your arms were warm and this way he could smell your wonderful perfume.
—¿Why can't you come with me? —You asked, leaving a kiss on his neck and hugging him closer to you, as if you never wanted to let him go and it was partly true, you clung to him as if he were your support for this life.
—I have a lot of work but I promise to go next time.
It was your father's birthday and you wanted to go visit him at the cemetery, although you put an empty box it was a way to honor and remember him, In-ho was the one who motivated you to do this because it also gave you a certain peace knowing that wherever your father was were sure that he knew how much you missed him.
—I'll be back in a few hours —You responded by leaving a warm kiss on him cheek.
Even though In-ho wanted to send some guards to take care of you, he knew that would be a risk, you could ask and discover the whole truth and that was the last thing he wanted, he believed that keeping you in ignorance was the best to protect your hurting heart.
You took a boat to leave the island and when you reached the mainland millions of memories hit your mind like a huge wave during a storm, you needed In-ho by your side but you recognized that you couldn't depend on him at all times, you also had to learn to manage these complex emotions that still threatened to sink you.
You bought a couple of flowers and headed to the cemetery where a tombstone was waiting for you on top of an empty place, deep down that still tormented your soul, not being able to find him to give him a dignified burial, not being able to hug him one last time or see him to say goodbye in person.
When you arrived at the sacred place you gave him a small bow and sat down in front of him.
—Hey… Sorry I didn't come earlier… —You said seeing the name "Cho Sang-Woo" written in stone —I just wasn't ready to come yet… Now I'm fine, I'm trying to move forward… In-ho, a friend of yours arrived at the moment when I needed someone the most, as if you had sent him.
A small smile appeared on your lips at that idea, a completely wrong idea of ​​what reality was.
—Happy Birthday… —You murmured with teary eyes, leaving the flowers on the tombstone, you sat there for a few more minutes talking to him to relieve your heart, somehow you managed to feel accompanied but you also constantly wondered what happened to him.
You said goodbye to him and walked through the cemetery until you reached the columbarium where the memorial of In-ho's previous wife was, he told you about her, he showed you that side of his life that had suffered a great loss just like you.
You respectfully approached the space where her name was carved in stone and you also left her a white flower that you had bought specifically for her, you didn't know why In-ho hadn't visited her in years, he told you himself and you didn't ask because you thought it was a wound that hadn't completely healed yet, however, the real reason was more than just pain.
Suddenly a male voice made you jump a little in your place.
—Excuse me… ¿Are you familiar? —When you turned your head you found a young man with straight black hair who looked at you curiously.
—Ohh no... I just... I heard about her —you explained with a soft smile, stepping aside to see him better and allow him to approach the niche —¿Did you know her?
—She was my brother's wife.
Him response caught you off guard, In-ho hadn't told you about any brother but you didn't question either, instead you smiled kindly and greeted him with a small polite bow.
—¡Oh! You are In-ho's brother —You said after introducing yourself with your name and ends with "In-ho and me are close"
Jun-ho looked at you with surprise, as if naming him had made some 'click' in his head, his silent gaze intimidated you so you bowed a little again to say goodbye and leave there but before you could take any steps him hand on your arm stopped you, making you even more tense.
—You should stay away from him, it's not safe for you.
—¿What? ¿Why?
—¿Do you know where he is now? ¿Where do you know him from? —The questions he asked you mixed with the firm grip on your arm raised some kind of alert so you pushed him to let go.
You didn't know him, you didn't know why he said that to you and you didn't trust him, so you left there walking as fast as could but behind you heard a "Stay away from him"
While you returned to the island on the boat you laughed internally at that strange encounter but as the minutes passed and you analyzed him words better in your head, doubt settled in your body, you trusted In-ho, you believed all the things he told you so blindly that you were sure that your father would be disappointed, he taught you to be intelligent and not let yourself be guided by anyone who speaks to you with nice words.
You never investigated him supposed organization further and you hadn't realized until now how much security he had on the island for it to just be a charity.
It was strange, even the time he saved you on that bridge, ¿how did he arrive just in time? It was almost one in the morning and few cars were passing through that area ¿Was he following you? he said he knew your father ¿how come he didn't even know your last name?
Your mind began to turn and turn the situation, your stomach turned and once again that feeling of anguish that had not been in you after a long time was present, meanwhile In-ho took advantage of the time you were gone to organize the next games quickly and safely, with you on the island it was difficult to do it without you discovering it but one of the many advantages it had was that you rarely questioned what they were really doing there.
Maybe it was because for you he was a hero, a ray of hope that came to take you out of your misery and without realizing it «or maybe he was too coward to admit it out loud» he took advantage of that to have you right where he wanted, like a good girl who didn't ask dangerous questions, you stayed right where he allowed you and went out whenever he wanted you to.
It was incredibly easy how could take a person drowning in their suffering and mold them into own world.
But now that you had doubts you weren't going to stay still, thanks to Jun-ho you would now start questioning everything he did.
Something that started to be a problem.
Until one day you finally discovered it, you woke up in the middle of the night and walked in silence to him office where you found a folder full of photographs and data of people who were just as drowned in debt as Sang-Woo was, but you did not stop there in your investigation, it was night, him guards in pink overalls that at some point you saw as security you now saw as hunters from whom you had to hide, cautiously, you moved through all the corridors until you reach a floor with golden and gray tones.
You walked in silence through each of the rooms and inspected every thing and compartment there without knowing that In-ho had already woken up when he did not feel your presence by his side.
You watched without stopping and the further you advanced your heart squeezed in your chest, this was not a charity, it was a slaughterhouse.
And the worst of all was that the man you trusted, the man you slept with, kissed and touched with love was the one who pulled the strings in this place.
You arrived at a dark room full of documents perfectly arranged by year and number on shelves, each sheet contained data about the previous people who arrived on this island and they were forced to play children's games with the promise that if they got out of there alive they would win a lot of money.
Your hands were shaking and you could practically feel your heartbeat in your throat.
Until you reached the section about the year your father disappeared, your heart stopped for a fraction of a second and your hands could barely hold the page you were reading in silence.
"Cho Sang-Woo, player 218, removed"
A painful moan escaped your throat as you looked at the photo of your father along with his information with eyes full of tears, you tried to remain silent and to drown your tears you bit your hand until felt the characteristic metallic taste on your tongue.
Your body shook and your breathing began to fail, you were scared, disappointed, overwhelmed and angry, In-ho had lied to you, he knew perfectly well what happened to your father and he pretended to be another friend in your life.
Once again your heart broke into millions of pieces.
In-ho had become vital in your life, you didn't know whether to hate him or love him, he hugged you every night when you woke up crying because of the pain of loss, he motivated you to get up and not let the suffering consume you, he even opened up to you and told you about his deceased wife.
You wanted to scream but instead you just stayed on the ground, biting your hand to suppress your cry, with your body shaking and breathing failing, you felt like you had been stabbed in the back.
You didn't even notice when In-ho walked up behind you with a loaded gun in him hand and a mental battle in his head.
You thought you knew him but in reality you had no idea what he was capable of doing.
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frost-queen · 2 months ago
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🅲🅷🅾🅸🅲🅴🆂 // part 2 (Reader x Young-il / player 001)
Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @floatlosers, @alex--awesome--22  @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown, @wildiefleur , @meyocoko , @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedrava-bitch-187, @erikasurfer , @slythetic  , @eliscannotdance, @p0nycurtis, @anjautembear, @noiyaaa, @filmedbyharkness , @uniquecutie-puffs
Summary: Waking up to another day in the games, you prepare yourself for the next game. Yet with one person extra, what team will you choose for the next round? [series]
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Lights flashed on.
Awoken by the same emotionless voice, followed by a wake-up melody. You came sitting up, not even sure if you had been able to catch some sleep. Too stressful to endure another game. Unsure what it would be this time and if you would even make it out alive.
Jun-hee woke up beside you. Glancing frightful your way. She seemed to fear the same thing. She threw her legs over the side, taking Dae-ho’s hand to help her up. You crawled from your bed over to hers. Throwing your legs over the edge as well.
Dae-ho still waiting there to lend you a hand. He gave you a comforting pat on your shoulder. Perhaps haven seen the fear in your eyes. Jung-Bae came joining him with an exhausting exhale. Gi-Hun touched his shoulder, slightly pushing him aside to pass through.
You wished you had the determination he seemed to held within himself. Young-il stood by the beds, looking down at you. Something about his gaze gave you the comfort of being safe, but wary as well. Jung-hee tugged at your sleeve, claiming your attention.
You hooked your arm around hers, going down the platforms with her. Walking across the centre of the room to head for the pink door on the left. You didn’t mean to look, but something compelled you to do. Thanos pointing at you, then making an O sign with his fingers. It made Jun-hee pull you closer to her.
Further away from where Thanos was. Holding onto to Jun-hee, you followed countless other ladies to the bathrooms. Jun-hee and you unhooked arms in the bathroom. Speaking with one glance. A secret language between females. We’ll wait for each other. Jun-hee moved to a stall on the left as you went for the right.
Closing the door behind you. Hands pressed against the door, you exhaled loud. Needing a moment to recover yourself. To get your nerves under control. The loss of control slipping through your veins. There was nothing you could do but endure another game.
Hoping the next vote would be in your favour. If only there had been an other way, but you knew as good as anyone there wasn’t any. Everyone in here in need for money. All for their own reasons. To yours it had more attachments. Not even being here for yourself. It was your last hope. Your last attempt to make it right.
To not bring grief upon your family. Inhaling loud, you clenched your hands. There was no time for self-pity. You needed to be strong and endure one more game. Knowing death might be close by. Waiting just behind the door to cut your string of life.
You met Jun-hee back in the middle whilst washing your hands. Her cheeks were a bit red, hinting she had been crying. Perhaps trying as much as you to be strong, but failed to lie to yourself. Jun-hee and you locked arms once again, going through the corridor back to the sleeping quarters.
By the time you got back, pink suits stood up front. Dealing out food and drinks. Jun-hee and you moved to the back of the line. Gi-hun came joining the two of you. Young-il right behind Gi-hun with his arms crossed. Shuffling closer with each movement of the line. Jun-hee removed her arm from you, accepting her food and drink. You accepted them after her.
Following her to where you gathered. Jun-hee sat down, keeping a hand on her stomach. You came sitting with her. Opening the package. Breaking your meal in two and handing one half to her. Jun-hee blinked surprised when you offered it to her. – “You must eat enough for two.” – you told her. Jun-hee shyly accepted your half. You smiled back, gaze shifting to the side.
Remaining still at Young-il, who had been watching. Watch you hand part of your food voluntarily to her. Gi-hun placing a hand on his shoulder, made him look away. Attention drawn away from you. Gi-hun led Young-il to sit with him. Dae-ho came joining your side with a satisfying exhale. Letting his shoulder bump against yours.
“Don’t worry Y/n, you have taken the right side.” – he joked making you look shyly down. – “One more game, right.” – you whispered to him. Dae-ho stuck his finger up. – “One more.” – he repeated. You so badly wanted it to be true, but deep down you knew it was a lie. Fooling yourself with this hopeless faith that the end would arrive. That you could be saved and walk away from the games.
“Y/n?” – Jung-bae spoke tapping you against your knee. – “What is your motive?” – he was curious to why you were here. Most of the people here were present due to depts. – “Jung-Bae!” – Gi-hun said as he felt it was inappropriate for him to ask. – “It’s alright.” – you answered with a gesture that it was alright.
You fumbled the bottle of water in your hand. – “I’m not here for myself…” – you began. All eyes turned on you to listen with care. – “I am not in any depts.” – you wanted to clear out. – “I…I am just in need of money for…” – sighing deep, it weighed down on you. Lip trembling to even remind yourself of it. To remind yourself of your father.
Your father who was at home in desperate need of a surgery. Your mother haven worked herself to the bone, unable to provide much help. Pictures flashed before your mind. Seeing your father lay sick in his bed. Your mother crying and praying at his side. Not having moved from that spot much. Praying to the Gods to give him more time. Closing your eyes, you wanted to drown out those thoughts.
Jun-hee reached for your hand, taking it in hers. Gaze meeting up with hers, seeing her grant you a comforting smile. Taking a deep breath, you found a little bit of courage deep inside of you. Recollecting yourself. – “The surgery is too much… my father won’t survive much longer without it.”
Jung-Bae nodded, patting his hand comfortingly on your knee. You smiled to ease the sudden sour vibe. Wiping your eyes dry. “Please be ready for another game will start.” – sounded over the intercoms. A shot of fear firing up your spine. – “We can do this.” – Dae-ho said to encourage not only himself.
All of you got up, following the crowd to the centre of the room. The pink suits coming out to watch over. Forming a line. Heading out of the door. Classical music blasted through the speakers while going up the maze of stairs. All in line to follow the other in front of them. You were walking behind Jun-hee. Looking over your shoulder, you saw Dae-ho, Young-il right behind him.
A piercing gaze shooting right through you. Up and up you went. Players each taking a step to reach their destination. To head for death’s door. Not sure who it would claim. You needed a moment to blink. Adjusting to the brightness of the room. Blue skies and white clouds painted on the walls.
Lines of colour painted on the floor in a loop. Feeling a sudden presence behind you, made you look up. Surprised to see Young-il right behind you. Looking back at you with barely a smile. It was there if you looked more closely. Your eyes widened when his hand touched your lower back.
Pushing you gently forwards to make more room for other players to enter. All players looking wonderous around. The same emotionless voice spoke through the speakers. Telling you to form groups of five for the next game. You looked back at your anew friends. Counting in your mind, that you were with one person too many.
They seemed to notice it as well. The fear clear in their eyes that one of them had to go separately. All too scared to say who needed to leave. The clock in the back counting down. Only having a certain amount of time to pick your groups.
Many players were walking around nervously. Trying to find a good group. – “Seniorita s’cuse me.” – you heard once more behind your back. Turning round, you saw Thanos and Nam-Gyu approaching. Thanos sniffing loud whilst touching his nose whilst walking over. – “Join my team.” – he said gesturing at you.
You got grabbed by your shoulder, shoved back as a person came standing in front of you. Young-il. His stare cold enough to make Nam Gyu cower. Thanos wasn’t much impressed. Tilting his head to the side to look at the gathering behind him. – “Looks like your team is already full and time is running out.” – Thanos reminded you all.
It made you swallow nervous as he was right. One of you needed to leave. Young-il didn’t move, keeping his ground. Thanos attempted to move to you, but with the first movement, Young-il had grabbed him firm by the shoulder. – “No!” – he said firm, shoving him back. Thanos stumbled back against Nam-Gyu.
“Young-il…” – you spoke seeing the countdown on the clock. Most people already forming groups. Young-il turned around to look at you. Something beggingly in his eyes. Not with him. Pleading with you to not team up with Thanos. – “I’ll leave.” – Jun-hee cut through holding her hand up. – “No!” – you immediately called back at her. You knew her best chances where with them.
You started to look around. Searching for other players you could join. Eyes falling on a player, moving nervously around. With one look, you knew it was with she you needed to be. – “I’ll leave.” – you said already moving away. Feeling a sudden tug on your hand. Young-il holding you back by your wrist. – “I’ll be alright.” – you reassured him, removing his grip from you. Young-il nodded slowly.
You walked off. Thanos wanting to go after you, if not for young-il blocking his path to you. Forcing him to find a teammate elsewhere. You neared the nervous woman. – “I’m sorry.” – you began, making her turn back at you. Player 120 you read. – “Can… can I join your team?” – you asked equally nervous as her. She nodded. Two more players came joining. Mother and son. One more girl joined, completing the number of five.
The timer counted 0. The emotionless voice coming through once more. “Please sit in your groups and decide who will do what game.” Players started to move to come sit down in their groups. Your friends becoming visible. All looking back at you. You smiled back at them to make sure they shouldn’t worry.
Player 120 nudged you to follow her. You came sitting down with your group. Dividing the mini games amongst each other. Yours. Spinning toll. Exhaling deep, you hoped to calm yourself. The first teams getting prepared to play. Your eyes were glued on the timer. The countdown starting. The first group started walking in sync.
One two, one two, one two. They chanted out to push forwards. Arriving at the first game. Ddakji. It took the first person a few attempts to flip it upside down. Onwards they went to Flying stones. The stone heavy in his hands as you noticed the shivering knees. The first swing flew right over the stone.
So did the second, third and fourth. They were losing a lot of time with flying stones. You didn’t want to watch anymore. Covering up your eyes and leaning closer to player 120. Hoping she wouldn’t mind.
Player 120 briefly glanced down at you. Saying nothing about it. Through your fingers, you peeked at the countdown. They were losing time and fast. The group getting desperate and chaotic. The guy who needed to swing, quivering under the pressure. It took him little attempts to finally knock it over.
Heading over for the third game. A game they never managed to reach. Time stopping at 0. All of them started to beg, dropping to their knees for mercy. You turned your gaze away, not wanting to see them get shot before your eyes. Your head leaning against player 120’s chest.
She wrapped an arm around you, body flinching at the shot. Pink suits with a triangle on their mask approached. Clearing the room with dead bodies. Not even bothering to clean up the blood. Player 149 gasped loud when a pink suit approached. Gesturing at them to move. Player 120 was the first one to stand up.
You followed, feeling your heart pound out of your chest. A warmth settling there. Nervousness rushing through your veins. Player 120 took your hand, giving it a firm squeeze. Your group followed the pink suit to the start line.
Your gaze went to the crowd. Seeing Young-il look past Gi-hun at you. This time he wouldn’t be able to save you. To help you out. None of your friends would. This time you needed to trust in yourself. Trust in the people you were with.
Young-il gave you a comforting nod. Gi-hun holding his thumb up to you. Jun-hee gesturing a heart at you. Absorbing their comfort. The pink suit knelt down to lock your legs together. Looking at your new team mates, there was some uncertainty. It was also clear that you felt like the underdogs.
Those that many would think would not survive. Seeing the state of your group, who could blame them. Your gaze went up to the timer. Arms locking. Waiting for the countdown. Taking a deep breath. Start!
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murderofravens · 2 months ago
Text
DUSK TILL DAWN
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pairing: hwang inho/young-il/frontman x fem reader.
part: 1/3 [finished]
warnings: age gap (reader is 20, inho is in his late 40s) slowburn. oral fixation. thigh riding. plot with porn. yearning. sexual tension. canon compliant. slight infantilization. no y/n used.
summary: he promised that you will make it out alive. he will make sure of it, no matter what it takes.
word count: 6.5k
SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST
please ignore any mistakes.
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as you wipe the blood from your face, the reality of your situation sets in. you never thought you'd get used to the smell of blood— much less the sight of it. or the texture. and now you're covered in it. the white of your uniform splattered with crimson, the metallic smell of it almost overwhelming. in a situation like the one you're in, you can only laugh. the mere sight of blood used to make you feel faint; make you want to throw up because you're squeamish. now you're covered in it from head to toe.
it's not yours. it's of the people they shot dead during the second game.
you barely remember how you made it out alive. the second one was all thanks to your team— thanos and nam-gyu were the closest to your age, and teaming up with them worked in your favour. your age and gender was a liability to the others, but they were kind enough to take you in. or perhaps they were thinking with their dicks. would it really matter either way?
but with the way they act, you're not sure if you want to continue being in a team with them. especially since thanos keeps trying to woo you with his poor rapping skills. they're way too loud and reckless for you, and you're scared they might get you killed. they're not willing to give up the game anytime soon, either.
then there's the first game— you're alive, because of 456. that crazy man who supposedly had played the games before. if it wasn't for him pulling you behind his back, you would've left the premises in a cardboard box. especially because you fucking sneezed as soon as the doll turned back.
since then, you've decided you don't want to play this game anymore. 456 has been desperately trying to change the other's mind— but they're greedy and insistent. you pressed the cross for his sake, and for the others, and for yourself. hell, you can live in debt, but what use is that money if you die trying? you're not that much of a hard worker. you value your life above anything else.
you walk over to their team— 456, and his two loud team members. another man is sitting there— player 001. the one who ruined your chance of going home on the first vote. he seems ordinary, but you know of him because you saw him beat the shit out of thanos. that was another reason you decided to abandon that team— you could not be seen with a bully, or a loser. as you approach him, you give him a slight nod of acknowledgement, which he returns. you turn your attention to 456, and thank him profusely for what he did for you. he's kind, you'll give him that. you like kind people.
"if you don't mind me asking—" a voice interrupts, and you look over your shoulder. it's player 001. he looks at you curiously. "how old are you?"
"old enough." you retort cheekily. he doesn't look amused as he cocks his head to the side.
"i'm curious as to why a little kid like you would compromise herself for money."
that shuts you up. you're offended, to say the least. who is he to call you a little kid? the entire team also looks on, seemingly baffled. the question makes sense. you're sure you're the youngest out of all players. and people can tell because you look it too. you don't really know how to respond, so you just look on with a frown, mouth opening and closing like a fish.
"forgive me—" he lets out an awkward chuckle, "i didn't mean it the wrong way. i'm just worried."
you give him an uneasy smile, rubbing the back of your neck. the others go back to their conversations, and you shrug. he shoots a glance towards gi-hun before sitting back down and shifting slightly, as if making room for you. you take a seat beside him. there's silence before he glances at the symbol on your jacket— the cross.
"i'm sorry." he says with a small smile, looking straight ahead, "you wanted to go home but you had to continue because of me. i put a kid in danger."
"i'm not a kid," you huff softly, straightening up, "i'm twenty. but yeah, you should be sorry."
you give him a small smile to ensure he knows that the last line is lighthearted. he seems to understand and returns it.
"dont worry about it," you sigh, fiddling with the zip of your jacket, "im sure you had your reasons. just like i have mine for coming here."
"and your parents?" he asks. he's so polite, it warms your heart. polite and soft spoken. and visibly tough. probably some officer, you think, judging by his skills you previously saw.
"that's what i need the money for." you sigh, leaning back against the bunker. "i need enough money to establish myself. continue my studies. bring my mom and my sister to come live with me. settle off my father's debts because he's a coward who decided to pass down his sins onto his daughter."
he raises his eyebrows, and you take a sharp breath. there's a moment of silence between you two— you think for a moment, and feel your eyes get slightly glassy. you're not going to cry in front of a stranger. you put on a brave face. "if i die here, my mother—"
he stares at you silently, before putting a comforting hand on your shoulder, interrupting your cursed sentence. "you'll make it out alive."
the doors open, and the staff comes in again. they reveal the number of players left, showcase the money that each person would get, and then the voting starts again.
this time, player 001 doesn't disappoint you. he goes first, and clicks on the cross. the hope it gives you eventually shatters as more and more players begin to vote in favour of continuing the game. you see 456 get increasingly agitated as he begins to make his way towards the front of the crowd. before he can speak, he's interrupted.
001's voice rings out loud and authoritative, and worried. he reprimands the voters in favour, calls them out on their selfishness.
"we'll all die if we keep playing!" he chastises the crowd urgently. "you have to survive first, or there won't be a next step—"
"there's no next step for us!" he's interrupted by player 100. a stout old man who had been at odds against 456 since the start— you remember him having 10 billion won in debt. it makes you snicker. he eggs on the crowd. "with that money, we won't be able to pay our debts. we need to play one more game, then the money will increase to 240 million. with that we can pay atleast a little of our debts! isn't that right!?"
"you're going to die trying!" you snap, making your way to the front of the crowd. you glare at player 100, at all his little supporters cheering at the back. "your greed is going to get you killed. how can you be so confident to say that you'll survive the next game? what if you die?"
"you shut up, young lady!" he hisses, mouth scrunching bitterly. "is that how you speak to your elders? your brain is too small to comprehend real life problems. we can't continue with our lives with that little money!"
"continue your lives?" a laugh bubbles out of your throat. "look at that greying head of yours, you barely have a life ahead of you! why don't you let us live ours?!"
that seems to have ticked him off, because he quite literally turns red as he takes a threatening step towards you.
"what did you just say?"
"i said—" you step forward, shooting him a challenging glare, "you're too old to be playing children's games. vote wisely and let us go home."
he lets out a snarl before trying to lunge at you, but you're pulled back as player 001 steps between the two of you. like a wall. he looks at the old man, eyes cold, his voice low. "that's enough."
since the incident with thanos, nobody has really tried anything with 001. it's obvious enough they're intimidated by him, and they don't want to be on the receiving end of his wrath. 100 doesn't either, with the way he collects himself and steps back, embarrassed. you look over 001's shoulder, make eye contact with the old man and shoot him a taunting smile. you know it's childish, but you've resented him from the start.
before the old man can say anything, player 001 drags you to the side where you can't argue with people anymore. and the voting continues.
"you can't talk to people like this," he says lowly, gaze focused on the crowd. staring at something that you can't figure out. "you never know what they might do."
you huff bitterly. you know what he means.
"i don't care. i fucking hate bullies."
"potty mouth." he chastises, but theres a smirk on his face. he's teasing. you chuckle.
"remember you need to get out of here alive." he repeats, looking at you with an intensity that is almost terrifying. "you can't do that if you keep this up."
"jeez, okay dad." you joke, rolling your eyes. your words make him smile lightly.
"thanks for having my back there." you tell him sincerely. he looks at you for a bit before nodding in acknowledgement.
the voting ends, and they announce that the games will continue tomorrow. it makes your heart drop.
that night, you feel uneasy when you try to sleep. your clothes stick to your skin, and the side of your face keeps itching. with an irritated grumble, you get off the bunker and walk over to your new friend's side. you squint your eyes before looking for 001— and when you find him, you gently shake him.
"are you sleeping?" you whisper.
he opens his eyes, wincing slightly before sitting up. his voice is hushed as he responds, "not anymore. what is it?"
you bite your lower lip nervously before reluctantly asking, "will you go to the restroom with me? i'm kinda scared to go alone."
he blinks at you, confused. you continue out of sheer desperation.
"those guards just stare weirdly with their weird little masks and it makes me nervous." you hope your voice doesn't shake as you speak. "last time one of them kept knocking on the door while i was in the washroom and it just— scared the shit out of me. and my face is itching and i really need to go. please?"
he listens patiently. for a moment you think he'd decline but he just sighs and nods, and you cheer just a little as he steps out and follows you to the door. you bang on it, loudly telling the guards that you need to go. one of them opens the sliding window, and then immediately opens the door. it makes you feel strange, because usually it takes a lot more effort to convince them. either way, you're grateful.
you know your better option would've been to take one of the girls with you, but the sad fact is you haven't had the chance to get friendly with any of the female players yet. and for some reason, player 001 makes you feel a sense of safety and security that is almost strange— you feel at ease around him.
"i'll be in the men's room," he tells you, and you nod. he shoots a glance to the guard standing outside the women's restroom before walking away. you quickly go inside, and the first thing you do is splash water on your face.
you quickly clean the blood off your skin, holding back the urge to cry. you scrub at your cheeks till you're sure you can scratch the itch away for good. your nails dig a little too deep, and a little blood oozes out of the scratches on the side of your face. you clean that too, and then try to scrub the splatters of blood off your t-shirt. it's white, and you have no soap— so the stains remain. a faint reminder. you take your time, and anticipate the knocking— but it never comes.
you look in the mirror, at your tired face and sunken eyes, before giving yourself a nod and stepping out. 001 is waiting for you outside, looking to the side. he gives you an odd look as you step out, before walking alongside you.
"are you alright?" he asks gently, concerned. kind as ever.
you look at him again, give him a nod. "thank you."
when you two reach the room, he returns the smile with one of his own.
as you make your way to the bunker, he grabs your shoulder, "why don't you start sleeping on our side?" he says quietly, "join the team. there's a bed near mine. you won't feel so scared that way."
you blink, trying to see his face in the darkness. the offer is enticing— and most of all, it warms your heart.
"really?" you ask hopefully.
"really." he says kindly.
you follow him to the bunker, and he covers the railing with his hand to avoid you getting hurt as you bend down to get into the bed. he looks at the slightly wet patches on your shirt— blinks before getting a bedsheet and putting it over you. "get some sleep. we got a game to play tomorrow."
you smile softly at him. as he turns to get into his own bed, you grab his hand. it's warm against yours— big and rough. you don't allow your mind to drift that way. it's not right. he looks at you, gaze questioning.
"thanks again," you say softly, "it means a lot to me."
he leans down a little to ruffle your hair before going back to his bed and laying down. you close your eyes and drift to sleep— unaware that he stays up, thinking.
breakfast is boring— bread and milk. you sit on the bed, scowling. player 456 is surprised as he sees you there, before you two share understanding smiles. you bow a little and he bows back before going along with his friend. 001 comes to sit by you then, munching on his own breakfast.
"i miss home," you mumble, "how am i supposed to survive on just this? it's not even chocolate milk."
001 laughs, "don't worry, you can have whatever you want once you get out of here."
"will i?"
he looks at you, raising his eyebrows. you take his silence as a cue to continue, "im scared i'll die in here."
he looks down, before shifting to be closer to you. "you made it this far, didn't you?"
you look at him, voice getting shaky. "and what if i dont make it till the end? what if i die here and my family thinks i abandoned them? i don't want to die. i haven't even lived my life yet."
his expression is hard to read. "you'll make it out of here alive," he tells you with conviction, "ill make sure of it."
your lips wobble as you stare at him, and he smiles before poking you in the nose. "finish your food. you need the energy for the next game. we'll make it out alive, then we'll try to get the voters on our side and go home. sound good?"
you snort, rolling your eyes before nodding. "sounds good."
he gives you his bread then, tells you to eat more. when you protest, he sends a warning glare your way— the one with a quirked eyebrow and a knowing gaze. you roll your eyes, and happily eat it.
you were hungry. perhaps he can tell things like that. you're just grateful.
today, you decided to be a little rebellious. when you first joined the games, you used to spend a long time in the bathrooms— analyzing, looking for a way out. during that time, you'd discovered that one of the screws in the ceiling vent was loose. you hadn't really bothered checking it before, but since it's daytime and you have some time before the next game, you decide to explore.
your hairclip works— the screws were not tightly fixed, so it unscrewed easily. you'd contemplated checking it out last night, but you didn't want to take any risks, especially since player 001 was with you. so now whatever you do, the responsibility will be yours.
when the bathroom gets empty and all the women leave, you pull it down and try climbing up. it's moments like these that you can pride yourself on your agility— work that usually required two people, you could do alone. with one leg on the flush and the other on the top of the cubicle, you climbed up, scratching the side of your arm slightly before finally getting in the vents. you groaned to yourself, and then started crawling inside. there were two ways to go— you chose the left one. you looked down, trying to understand the layout of the place where you were practically held hostage. you keep crawling, making sure not to make too much noise before finally seeing a place through the gaps that you hadn't seen before— you carefully remove the screws and pull it apart.
the place looks empty. the walls are all sorts of pink and green. you put your head down and look both ways, seeing a door at the end of the hallway. carefully, you climb down and lower yourself to the ground with a thump. your shoulder hurts a little. you stand up, and aim for the door. as soon as you begin walking, you hear footsteps. it's as if someone splashed cold water on you— you realize the grave mistake you just made. guards walk here with guns, and you made the impulsive decision to explore a dangerous place like this by yourself?
you look around, running towards the other end of the hallway. the footsteps get louder, and as you look over your shoulder, something grabs you. out of reflex, you go to scream, but a hand clamps down on your mouth, and your back collides with a hard chest.
"shh, it's me." the voice hisses. your wide eyes look up, scared, before realizing who it is.
player 001.
your chest heaves as you break out into a sweat, a tear rolling down your cheek. he keeps you in a tight hold, looking to the side, your breath dampening his hand. the footsteps suddenly become faint, as if walking away. your breaths sync together, and after a moment, he relaxes.
he takes his hand off your mouth before harshly twisting you to face him. his voice is hushed but angry, "what were you thinking?!"
"what are you doing here?" you whisper shakily at the same time.
"everyone was back in the room except you. i came to find you!" he chides, eyes hard. he shakes you slightly, "do you really plan to get killed like this? is this how you want to die? can you go one moment without being a reckless brat—"
his words make you want to cower in on yourself.
"i wanted to find a way out." you try to sound assertive, but your voice betrays you. your words come out panicked, "I wanted to help and— fuck— i got you in trouble too— you shouldn't have come looking for me! fuck— how are we gonna make it out of here?"
he sighs, squeezing his eyes shut before looking at you tiredly. "the game is about to start. we'll mix in with the crowd when they leave, i doubt they'll notice."
"are you sure it'll work?" you ask. you hear a faint announcement. the game is about to start.
he looks up at the speakers, alert. he grabs you tightly and drags you away with an air of confidence. "let's go."
you don't encounter any guards on the way back. it's strange, but you figure it's because they're all preparing for the next game. player 001's plan worked, because you two mixed in with the crowd, and the guards didn't notice. one of them turned back to look at you, and you panted, staring back at him. your heart raced, but you felt the presence of 001 next to you, and you felt at ease again. the guard looked away.
"i told you to stop being reckless." he says quietly, looking at 456 and 390, before looking back at you. your legs hurt from climbing so many stairs. "what would you have done if they found you?"
you swallow the lump in your throat, staring up at him intensely, eyes glassy. he saved your life. "i guess you stopped that from happening."
he clenches his jaw, his gaze flickering up and down your face before looking away. "i won't always be there to save you."
you look away, heart dropping. "thank you, 001."
"call me young-il."
you look up at him, blinking back tears, quirking an eyebrow as you two walk. "only if you allow me to add 'sir' at the end of it."
he chuckles, eyes crinkling. he has such a nice laugh. "why's that? respect?"
you nod, giving a little bow. "respect is very important in my culture as well. so thank you for saving my life, young-il sir."
he grins a little and pats your head. you thank him again, and decide you like him enough. so you tell him your name.
he tests it on his tongue, and you quite like the way he says it.
the next game had to be the most terrifying so far.
it was called mingle, and you had to run to the rooms in groups according to the number announced. things like these were where you got scared— where you had to group with people. in dangerous situations, you know people usually only look out for two types of people— themselves, and the ones dearest to them.
you were not dear to anyone here. you really should've interacted with more people.
the platform rotates, before the number is announced. six. your eyes widen and you frantically look around, but young-il is faster. he grabs you and drags you to the room with the rest of the team. you pant as the 30 seconds pass, and then look out the window in the door to see how many people were left— quite a few. your eyes widen as the red guards move forward with their guns raised.
young-il leaps forward and covers your eyes with his hand before pulling you into himself as the gunshots ring out— you flinch and shudder at every single one, breathing sharp and your entire frame trembling violently. when there is silence and the doors open, you look up. young-il gently lets go of you, looking around. he's panting too, and you look at him with the most crushed look on your face before he meets your gaze. he can tell what you want to know— why would you do that?
"you shouldn't have to see all this." he says quietly, adjusting his jacket and putting a little distance between you two. 456 pats your shoulder and makes sure people are okay before moving out. you just look at young-il for a while, but he simply looks around, seemingly lost in thought. as if fighting a war within himself. you wish you knew how to reassure him like he did with you, but you realize you barely know anything about him.
the entire floor is painted with blood. the sight makes you want to vomit. you walk carefully, but your foot slips in someone's blood and you begin to fall over. 456 catches you. "are you alright?"
instinctively, your gaze tries to find young-il but he's standing away. his head is lowered.
"yes, thank you." you give 456 a smile, before assuming your place on the platform again.
you play a few more rounds. you're lucky enough to have someone to team with each time— young-il and 456 don't let go of you even once. but then the voice runs out again, and they announce the number 3. this time, 456 is dragged along with the old woman and her son. you look around frantically, and meet young-il's panicked gaze with your own. you begin to run towards him, but two people grab you and drag you towards one of the rooms.
thanos and nam-gyu. you shriek at them, clawing at their arms and trying to run back out. what if young-il doesn't make it? what if something bad happens?
this time, you have no one to cover your eyes or ears. thanos and nam-gyu talk shit within themselves, and you look outside the little window, flinching with every gunshot ringing out, trying to pinpoint if it's young-il's body falling to the ground. you can't help the light sob erupting from your throat, and thanos chooses the wrong moment to come bother you.
"watcha looking for, señorita?" he laughs, poking your side, "is it your old man? did he finally—"
you turn to him and punch him in the face. he falls back and groans dramatically, rubbing the blood running down his nose. nam-gyu rushes to his rescue, giggling. they're both high as a kite. the doors open, and you rush out before they can bother you further.
you look around. 456 is with the rest of the team, but you can't find young-il. frantically, you look towards the dead bodies, heart pounding against your chest and head throbbing. suddenly, there's cheers from your team, and you look up to see young-il walking over with a bright grin on his face.
you don't know what compelled you to do it. you were acting on your emotions— overwhelmed by the relief you felt on the sight of his face. before you can even stop, you're dashing towards him and crashing into his body, wrapping your arms tightly around him.
he's shocked, that much is obvious by the way he tenses slightly. but then he returns the hug, wrapping his arms around you and placing one hand on your head, gently patting. "i told you we'd make it."
you choke on a soft sob, nodding, burying your head further into his chest, as if ready to climb inside him, "i thought you—"
he shushes you softly, voice gentle as he runs a hand through your hair. you can feel his heart racing against his chest too. you wonder if it's for the same reasons as you. "i'm okay."
you wish the game ended there. but there was one more round to go. as you rotated on the platform— the moment you were dreading finally happened as young-il predicted it. the number announced was two.
you were ready to die there. things seemed to happen in slow motion— 456 took his best friend 390, 149 was dragged by her son. you didn't get the chance to see who took who next, because young-il had grabbed your hand and was dragging you towards one of the rooms. there were only fifty rooms— the first one you two got to was taken. he dragged you to another with a mere ten seconds left.
you sighed in relief as you got in, before seeing another man was already there. he was shaking in fear, and you jumped at the harshness of young-il's voice when he ordered him to get out. when the other player refused, young-il lunged at him and put him in a headlock.
your eyes widened and you stepped forward, panic stricken but he looked right at you and called your name, "close your eyes!"
you flinched. you looked at the man, then at young-il, before squeezing your eyes shut. you slid to the floor, pulling your knees to your chest as soon as you heard a 'crack' before opening your eyes.
the player was dead. young-il cracked his neck.
the timer finished at that exact moment, and young-il crawled over to you before pulling you into his chest. the gunshots rang out, and you flinched, sobbing.
young-il killed someone.
"i had to do it," he whispered against your hair, holding your head against his chest, "we both have to make it out alive. i had to do it. you know that right?"
you wanted to believe him, you really did. but in that moment, you felt scared of him for the first time.
the doors opened, and the game finished.
while you wanted to revel in your victory, the incident during mingle had rattled you to your core. the others checked up on you, especially 388 and 456. young-il maintained some distance. you could feel like he thought it's what you wanted. but you could really use his comfort. you just don't know how to talk to him again without being nervous. you force yourself to relive your previous interactions with him— he's still the same young-il who has saved you and comforted you countless times.
he did what he had to do to ensure your survival. that wasn't something you could hold against him. not when both of your lives were on the line.
the voting this time was just as challenging. you made your way to the front of the crowd, praying that they'd choose wisely this time. you need to go home.
one of the players in the old man's team showed you the finger before clicking the 'o' button. the action made your eye twitch, and you grit your teeth before straightening up to attack that guy and scratch his face off, but a hand to your chest held you back.
if looks could kill, young-il's glare could've sent that guy home in a body bag. as the votes in favour of continuing the game increased, you pushed his hand off you and addressed the crowd, "have you all lost your fucking minds?!"
their chitter chatter stopped and they looked at you. you clench your jaw, "after losing so many people out there you still want to play? what the fuck is wrong with you people? are human lives that invaluable to you?"
player 100 steps forward, insufferable as always. "don't you see how much money we're getting for each person? it could settle our debt! we can't give up after how far we've come."
"you're gonna die!" you snap, pointing at him, "you could take this money and go home and be happy instead of risking your life for something that is not assured to you! why won't you listen?! i want to go home!"
the others in favour of terminating the game start chanting with you, a string of 'i want to go home' echoing across the room.
player 100 glares, urging his own team to chant against you. he looks towards young-il, yells something along the lines of, "look after your fucking kid!" before the barell of a gun presses against the back of your head. the whole room freezes, and so do you.
"disruptions against a democratic vote will not be excused." the robotic voice calls out. for a second you think this is it. you look at young-il. if you die here, you'd prefer the man who saved your life to be the last person you see. he glares at the guard, his jaw clenching. the guard lowers the gun and steps back and you let out a breath of relief.
you immediately saunter over to him, gritting your teeth. the vote is a tie— and they announce the next voting to be held tomorrow.
456 says there's about to be a fight. the rest of the team got busy setting up a barricade— and you didn't get the chance to talk to your player. you knew his concern though, when he made sure to especially hide your side of the bed with two mattresses.
you play with the hem of your shirt as you sit in your bed by your lonesome. your food sits by you, untouched. you dont feel like eating. the weight on the bed shifts, and young-il appears into view.
"you're not eating."
you swallow the lump in your throat. "i don't feel like it."
he contemplates, eyes lowered before he looks at you again. "im sorry you had to witness that. I don't want you to be scared of me."
you want to cry. "im not." you whisper, "you.. you had to do what you had to do. to save us."
he blinks, nodding.
"back there, i thought that was it. it's over." you chuckle bitterly. "but you saved me again. you acted on impulse. i could never resent you for it."
your eyes are bloodshot as you look at him again. fat tears roll down your cheeks, and he frowns. he sighs before leaning closer, brushing the tears away. "why are you crying?"
"i wouldn't have survived this far if it wasn't for you." you whisper, voice cracking. "promise me you wouldn't abandon me. promise me you won't die."
his gaze softens. he's silent for a bit, his hand coming to rest on your knee, "i promise."
you sniffle, wiping your tears away. a small smile appears on your face, "i punched thanos."
"thanos?" he frowns, confused before raising his eyebrows in recognition, "ah, the loud kid with the purple hair?"
you nod proudly. "he said something like 'did 001 finally die?' so i punched him."
he laughs heartily— face scrunching cutely, eyes crinkling. he shakes his head fondly before ruffling your hair again. "attagirl."
it makes you blush slightly and you smile, looking down at your lap. he grabs your dinner— the roll sitting next to you and unwraps it, taking out a piece before holding it out, "eat."
you snort before leaning forward and taking a bite. he looks at you for a while with that faraway look in his eyes, before wordlessly continuing to feed you the rest. the words go unsaid. 'what are we doing? why are we so comfortable with each other?'
some sauce sticks to the corner of your mouth. he raises his hand to hold your chin, his thumb gently wiping it off. your breath hitches.
neither of you protest when his thumb brushes across your bottom lip, gaze focused on it like he's hypnotized. he's thinking, mindlessly feeling the plush texture of it.
you've always been impulsive. especially in situations where you shouldn't be. it happens so naturally— how your lips part just slightly. and maybe he's impulsive too, because his thumb slips inside, and his breath hitches as soon as your lips wrap around his thumb.
his gaze raises to meet yours— and you blink almost dazedly. his thumb presses down on your tongue, and he calls out your name in the softest voice.
"i'm too old for you." he whispers, shaking his head in disapproval.
your eyes flutter, and you lean forward, grabbing hold of his wrist. he pulls his thumb out, and you almost whine in protest. to your utter delight, he replaces it with two of his fingers, and your eyes almost roll back as you crawl forward till you're situated on his lap, mouth stuffed with his index and middle finger. you suck on them enthusiastically. they're long and thick and perfect and you don't want them out of your mouth ever again. it elicits a soft moan out of him— and if you could put that sound on repeat for the rest of your life, you'd be happy.
he pulls his fingers out and grabs the back of your head, pulling you close till your foreheads press together. you try to lean forward, to capture his lips with your own. he chuckles slightly, eyes closed, playfully rubbing his nose against yours. you whine.
"so impatient." he whispers, and then his lips are colliding with yours. it would be embarrassing if someone were to catch you two like this— more so for him than for you. thankfully, the others are busy strategizing for the night, and are not looking for either of you.
you moan softly and he bites down on your bottom lip, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth. it's desperate and reckless and so full of spit— it makes you whimper into his mouth and he pulls you further into himself, as if telling you to shut up. his experience is obvious in the way he kisses, and you follow his lead. unknowingly, your hips start gently grinding against his thigh, and he lets out a soft hiss. he pulls away slightly, strings of saliva connecting your mouths. he licks it away.
"come on, sweetheart," he whispers, one hand coming down to help your hips grind against his thigh, "make yourself feel good— that's it, that's my good girl."
you moan softly, and his free hand clamps your mouth shut. he speeds his movement, clenching and unclenching the muscle of his thigh, guiding your hips to move faster against his lap. it's been so long since you've masturbated— and this is unarguably the hottest situation you've ever been in, with the hottest man you've ever seen. so you're already close. you cry out into his hand, your voice muffled. he understands what you mean and lets you move on your own speed then, pulling your head into the crook of his neck as he whispers soft words of praise into your ear.
the moment he calls you his good girl again, you cum. he muffles the sound with his hand, squeezing his eyes shut before he looks at you intensely. you collapse against him, slightly sweaty, your hands holding onto his shoulders as you cling to him. he runs his hand through your hair, breathing sharply. it's a small moment of bliss in the hell you've found yourself in.
soon, the lights go out, and dread settles in your stomach once you feel his body tensing. player 388 pulls one of the mattresses back slightly, hisses a quick "get under the bed!"
and the next game begins.
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A/N: this was incredibly fun to write. i love writing him a little soft and fatherly, so deal with it. i might write a part 2 for this, if anyone wants that. this idea has been in my head for a while. i love him so, so much. this fic is my baby and i truly hope you guys like reading it as much as i liked writing it.
tags! @carolinevoight @lovers-roq @wildtigerlili @menabuser16 @deadlyobsessivfennec @watasinekoru @hanakokunzz @cowuies
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pixiepipedreams · 1 month ago
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♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — intrusive thoughts, tied up in knots, by the concept of us // in-ho x reader x gi-hun
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♡  ⁄  pairing: in-ho x reader x gi-hun ♡  ⁄  warnings & tags: fem!reader, canon-typical violence & death, obsessive behavior, lying/manipulation, age gap (reader is 20-22, in-ho & gi-hun are late 40s, early 50s) ♡  ⁄ wordcount: 6.9k ♡  ⁄ summary: the second vote holds no promises for a brighter future, and both in-ho and gi-hun find themselves contemplating the ever intriguing player 132. THIS IS PART THREE OF A SERIES! (➊) (➋) (➍)
﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵ ﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵
In-ho had dedicated his youth to policing the criminals of Seoul, and he has seen the balance of human nature. He had been devoted to fighting the good fight, keeping the criminal population in line, dealing with drunks and abusers and the worst of the worst. He’d never done anything unjust, never used unnecessary force, but still, he’d been tossed to the curb in his hour of need, falsely accused of accepting bribes. Like clay, the cruel hands of the universe shaped him into what he needed to become to survive. The games had been both a blessing and a curse, a way to fight back, to save his wife and unborn child.
None of it had mattered. Every sacrifice was just another digit pressed into his moldable form, so slow and sure that he hadn’t even noticed the difference until he’d received the invitation from Il-nam to front the games. It had felt like a reclamation, a saving grace, a way to hide from the misery of his life as a widower, from the disgust he felt with an uncaring world. When choosing between the lesser of two evils, he chose the more black and white option - give one or two pieces of gum on the bottom of the country’s shoe a chance to unstick themselves and reform, while the rest get tossed and burned like the trash that they are. Like everyone is.
That’s what you should have been.
Another piece of gum, debris, a bag of trash rotting on the side of the road. Another inconsequential player, another layer of scum on this waste of a planet. But at every turn, you surprised him. The optimism in your view of life, the intelligence in your eyes, the strength that you carried even in fear. You pointed out flaws in Gi-hun’s arguments, you challenged In-ho just by existing. He should hate it. He should want to corrupt you, bring you down to his depths of apathy and revulsion with the world.
In a way, he does.
Player 132. (Y/N). You were an unexpected factor in his mission, made all the worse by the fact that you bear the same number he did in 2015. Every flicker of feeling that you cause in him is only accentuated by the closeness the games force the players into, the camaraderie between those meant to be competitors. Despite himself, he feels that same union with his team, as well, celebrating the victories of every passing team in the Pentathlon.
Weakness. Human connection. One that he can work in his favor, a flaw to exploit.
That’s what he pretends the victorious feeling in his chest means while they return to the dorms, but even he can’t deny the high of winning as a team. His sabotage had only made it more delicious that they all made it out alive, and the adrenaline still buzzes in his veins, better than any glass of whiskey.
Your hands fidget nervously as you stare at the player count, wondering how much longer it could be before you find out if Young-il, Gi-hun, and player 222 made it out alive. The bed you sit on is closest to the open concrete floor, and you feel on edge, ready to jump and run at a moment’s notice. The rest of your team is more tucked into the tighter enclosure the bunkbeds make, conversing about the games. Where are they?
“Hey,” player 120 says, her voice soft and assuring, calling for your attention. “132. You surprised me out there. It was really… impressive, honestly. You sure you’ve never played Spinning Top before?”
You look over, smiling faintly, your leg jittering as it bounces in place. “I’ve never played it. Well - in America, we have tops, but you just spin it from the axle. No twine. I guess I just… had a good teacher.”
007 laughs, but covers it quickly with a cough. His mother whacks him on the chest, then turns to you with kind eyes. “Are you and player 001 close? He doesn’t seem like the… helping sort.”
You tilt your head, surprised by the observation. But you can understand it - when Young-il isn’t engaged in conversation, he shows little to no emotion, carries a coldness that seems impenetrable. “We’ve talked,” you say vaguely. “He promised to help me with any games that I don’t quite understand. Since I wasn’t raised here.” You clear your throat, feeling oddly embarrassed, like you’re admitting to some deep secret crush, even though you’ve done nothing of the sort. “What are your guys’ names? So I have something to call you besides a detached number.”
The group goes around sharing names, and you commit them to memory. Whatever the outcome of these games, you refuse to forget any of them. Perhaps it would be too big of a burden to remember everyone’s name who’s already died, would haunt you until your own end, but it feels like a bigger sin to not know at all.
Light discussion starts, easy joking, but you can’t focus, your eyes flicking from the group to the door as you wait endlessly. Where are they?
When his team returns to the dorms, In-ho’s eyes instantly find you, a locked missile on target. You’re sitting near your team, but still separate, disengaged. Another curiosity - despite your disposition, and your apparent friendly nature, you keep yourself apart. Perhaps you recognize the truth he’s accepted long ago - despite any kinship one might feel with a person, or a group, everyone is on their own at the end of the day. Family, friends, coworkers, passing acquaintances, they all fall away to serve their own needs. It takes you less than a second to meet his eyes, and his stomach clenches at the way you instantly relax, sheer relief etched into the line of your posture. He’s not foolish enough to assign his own reaction to unease.
He gives you the tentative smile that Young-il would give, but his eyes are dark. Whatever cocktail you stir inside him, he knows that your own reaction to him is much simpler. Attraction, maybe. Comfort, certainly. Why him, of all people, instead of Gi-hun, or that player, 120, that you’d spoken to before, he can’t begin to comprehend. Is his mask that good, his performance so inviting? No, it’s not quite that. He needs to dig into your mind, unravel the knots into understanding. Perhaps the knots are his own.
He follows his team with a sense of purpose, duty, forcing himself to look away and your warm, relieved smile, that churning in his mind feeling so out of place in the typically still waters of his mind. As they sit, he shakes his head, focusing on the group, his team.
“I’m sorry about earlier. I don’t know what happened,” he says, infusing a sheepish embarrassment into his words, his hands clenching the metal of the bench as his shoulders tuck forward.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Dae-ho says quickly, his voice overlapping with Gi-hun’s own assurance.
“What happened earlier?”
In-ho’s spine straightens on instinct at the sound of your voice, and he forces himself to relax, looking up, oddly surprised to see you step up to their group. He shouldn’t be. His eyes trace over you, as if checking for wounds, even though he saw you escape earlier entirely unscathed. Your hair is a bit messy, the grease of not showering settling in, and your hands are shoved into your pockets, an infused nonchalance to the posture. You make a concerted effort to look at everyone in the group before your eyes land on In-ho.
His mouth goes dry.
“Ah, it’s nothing,” Jung-bae says with a small grin, always playful and easing the tension. “Big bad number one over here just struggled on his game. We made it out, though! So nothing to worry about.”
“If he hadn’t helped me in Jegi with the final kick, we never would’ve made it,” Gi-hun adds, a trace of his old smile on his lips, trying to comfort whatever tension in him that he’s sensing.
Your eyes narrow, searching In-ho, in a different manner than he just analyzed you. Like you know something. That intelligence you hide behind easy smiles flashes in full force, but then it’s gone, any concerns or comments you had not even reaching your throat. “I’m glad you all made it,” you say finally, smiling, and your eyes flick to player 222. “Especially you.”
She meets your gaze, a quiet appreciation in her expression. She nods her head slightly, unable to express her true gratitude, and that’s another thing that In-ho doesn’t wish to think about. The pregnant player. Another barnacle on the world’s ship, but perhaps the way he closed off his feelings after the passing of his wife had left some backdoors open for unwanted sympathy. He refuses to wonder about what the outcome would be if his wife had entered the games instead of him, refuses to imagine her in this place, founded on cruelty and equality.
She would have died either way. There’s no reason to wonder, to feel the sick twist in his gut.
In-ho rocks in place, unable to tell if it’s the surge of his own undesired emotions or the act of Young-il that causes it. “222, are you doing alright?” he asks, but doesn’t care. He doesn’t.
“Yeah. Thank you all for including me on your team,” she replies with a slight bow of her head, and In-ho catches a soft smile on your lips, likely comforted by the fact that you genuinely helped her.
“She smashed that ddakji and flipped it on her first try!” Jung-bae adds, grinning. 222 ducks her head, hiding a proud smile. “And for a pregnant lady, you were fast, too. We were lucky she joined our team.” His eyes flick to you, and In-ho clenches his jaw briefly. There’s too much ease in Jung-bae’s words, in every conversation, and he finds it grating - both with Gi-hun and you. In-ho’s eyes flick to Gi-hun, his own expression dry of any emotion or reaction.
Gi-hun is already looking at you.
He hadn’t heard the conversation the two of you had last night, too far away at the time, but he had watched. Observed. Even not knowing what passed between the pair, he knew that some sort of understanding had been reached, that you hadn’t taken your eyes off him for a moment.
That earlier, when you brought the pregnant woman to his team, you’d looked at Gi-hun first.
The conversation continues, and In-ho laughs in all the right moments, in the bond over the victory, but he keeps you in his line of vision. When Dae-ho stands next to you, his eyes land on the distance between you both, a sour feeling in his gut, like bile.
“Perhaps we should learn each other’s names. I still don’t know any of your names. I’ll start.” He gives his name, and its meaning. Huge tiger. In-ho suppresses a laugh - which is an odd feeling. Laughter doesn’t come easily to him anymore, and fighting to keep it down is unfamiliar. Jung-bae gives his next, because of course he does.
When player 222 offers hers - Kim Jun-hee, a name that instantly gets engraved in his mind - he can’t seem to help the words bubbling from his lips. “Jun-hee, when we get out of here, you should head straight to a hospital. You’ve been under a lot of stress. You need to get yourself checked out.���
“Okay,” she replies softly.
“I’m Oh Young-il,” In-ho adds, tossing his false name into the ring. Amusement rises in his chest - it’s likely that no one will look too closely at his name, or assume he’s lying, but he’d been rather proud of the joke of it all. Right down to the last detail, of taking Il-nam’s family name. Flying right under Gi-hun’s nose.
“Young-il?” Jung-bae repeats, arching a brow.
“Yes. ‘Young-il’ sounds like ‘zero one,’ and that’s my number,” he explains with a playful smile, his finger pointing to the patch on his chest. His eyes meet yours, catching the way they narrow. It would make sense that you hadn’t put the pun together yourself, and he gets the cold feeling that you’re suspicious of him. You, of all people. It isn’t that you come off as naive, but you had trusted him so easily last night, allowing him to sit with his hand in your hair as you fell asleep. He had assumed you didn’t see through his manipulations, the strings he pulled in the world of these games.
The group shares a laugh over his name, but not you. You arch a brow, smiling, but with that sharp look in your eyes. “The gamemakers must have a sense of humor,” you murmur wryly, but that coldness spreads in his body. Everyone else chuckles, but In-ho knows there’s more to your statement.
And he realizes there might be even more to you than he thought.
“And you?” he asks quickly, looking to Gi-hun. “Your full name, I mean. I only know you as Gi-hun.” Another lie, so little in comparison to the rest.
“Oh, right, um… Seong Gi-hun is my full name,” he replies quietly, eyes flicking between In-ho and you. Curious.
“Seong - that literally means last name, doesn’t it?” he asks, feeling almost nervous. It’s not the right word, but the strange tightness in his chest can’t seem to be described any other way. He laughs, his chuckles rolling off him through the anxious energy, at his own bad joke.
Nobody else laughs, but there’s a flicker of amusement in your expression. “Like our ‘un-Seong hero’?” you add, voice laced with humor as you speak in English for the first time in his presence. He laughs harder, not expecting the cheesy joke from your lips, and you laugh too.
Such a delightful sound. Something bright and sweet, like the sky on a cloudless day in a past that’s long gone. There’s a couple chuckles in the group, but nobody laughs as much as the two of you do. Somehow, you make him feel like Young-il, the man he used to be, and In-ho, the man he’s become, the man he’s always been underneath it all.
The doors open, guards filing in, and the joviality of the room quiets, stills. Any small relief that the groups have managed to find after escaping the last game with their lives dissipates. You tear your eyes away from Young-il, your mind churning, twisting over the information, but it’s hard to stay focused on his potential deceptions with the gut-dropping recognition of the button being wheeled in.
“Congratulations to all of you for making it through the second game.” The head guard stands in the center of the group of pink-clad soldiers, the rigid square on his face an indicator of his rank. The lights turn off, the now-familiar glow of golden light shining down on them as the pig takes the spotlight above their heads. “Here are the results of the second game. In the second game, 110 players were eliminated.” The familiar chiptune plays as the bank above everyone's head fills with bundles of won, counting the bodies that had been bloodily removed from the schoolyard scene of the last game. “The prize money accumulated up to this point is 20.1 billion won. Since there are 255 players remaining, each person’s share is 78,823,530 won.”
Uproar. People start shouting out complaints, the ‘O's growing restless at the realization that even with so many dead, the split of the prize pool isn't enough. Even for you, that amount isn’t enough to settle your father’s debts and pay his medical bills.
In-ho has to hide a smirk, even as something inside him clenches. Just as expected, desperate greed wins over the lives of the people whose blood invisibly stains the prize pool. He eyes Gi-hun, who stares around the room, cataloguing the people complaining with barely disguised loathing. Gi-hun, who has never been able to look past the cost of all that money to see the freedom it grants. In-ho can hardly judge. He’s barely touched his own money, after all.
“I completely understand your disappointment. However, we always keep the door open for you to pursue new opportunities. You will now take a vote to decide whether to continue the games or not. Whether to continue the games for a bigger prize or to stop here is entirely your choice. Please feel free to exercise your right to choose in a democratic manner.” The guard’s voice is clinical, rehearsed, and a sick feeling twists at your gut. Just how many games have there been? How many times has he said these exact words?
And the implication slams into you, the easy manipulation of the words. The vote hasn’t even happened yet, and you already know the outcome. Desperation, self-preservation. Nobody is leaving the games today.
“I should go,” you say softly, as the crowd accumulates at the edge of the glowing ‘X’ and ‘O’ separation on the ground. You give a slight bow of your head, turning to leave, feeling displaced, uneasy.
“Wait, (Y/N),” Gi-hun says, halting you in your tracks. Your eyes flick to him, widening. “Stick with our team. You said you, uh, you wanted to fight by… by our side, last night, didn’t you?”
Lips parting, you can’t seem to take your eyes off his face. That wasn’t quite what you said, but based on his shifty expression, he knows that. You said you wanted to fight by his side. The invitation still surprises you, but underneath that surprise is a warmth at being included, at him asking you to stay. You nod, smiling a little. “I would appreciate that, thank you. And, if it’s at all possible, if… if we end up staying for another game, I’d like for us to try and keep an eye out for the team that kept me alive today.” If. You don’t want to crush their spirits with the foresight you currently hold.
Gi-hun’s eyes soften, smiling just a little, but it feels like a victory. You find yourself craving more of that smile, to see the full force that used to come easily to him, if the lines of his face are anything to go by. “We’ll do our best,” he replies, his voice just as soft as those eyes. He must be a very kind man. You get a little lost, looking at him, at the lingering cloak of who he once was. "We have to end the games here,” he adds, turning to the group. “I will help you all with my winnings from the first game when we get out. Please trust me, and vote to leave.”
“Don’t worry,” Young-il adds, eyes locked on Gi-hun. “I want to stop here too. I should go.”
“Yeah,” Gi-hun says, his eyes softening as he looks back at Young-il. “You should be with your wife at the hospital.”
And then you freeze. Wife. Your lips stay closed, but your eyes widen a fraction, feeling a horrible sense of disappointment that takes you by surprise. It shouldn’t be shocking, you should have suspected it, seen the train coming at you full force. He’s twice your age, it makes sense for him to be married - hell, Gi-hun probably has a wife too.
Young-il’s frozen too, and his eyes slowly slide to meet yours from the side. His expression is unreadable, and he doesn’t respond for a moment, his lips parting. Then he looks back at Gi-hun, giving a smile that seems a little tight around the edges. “I’ve been away too long,” he responds quietly, agreeing.
The group chatters, quickly agreeing to all vote to leave. Deep in your gut, you know it’s not enough. But you’re not thinking about that, not in this moment. You’re thinking about Young-il’s hands on yours, guiding you through the motions of spinning an invisible top. You’re thinking about him cradling you to his chest, of the details of his face that you don’t dare to look at now. And you come to the realization that you’re well and truly fucked.
“Guys, all huddle up again,” Dae-ho calls, drawing your attention to him. He’s much easier to focus on than Young-il or Gi-hun. He juts his hand out, arm rigid and straight, into the center of the group. Everyone lays their hands on Dae-ho’s, and you hesitate, before setting yours down last. It’s strange, being a part of a group. “In one, two, three. Victory at all costs!”
“Victoryat all costs!” You all call back.
The voting is in reverse order, this time. Young-il doesn’t hesitate before pressing the ‘X’, but there are a few surprises - namely, two of your old teammates pressing ‘O’. But you can’t blame them. Even with Gi-hun’s offer to pay off your group’s debts, you don’t know what to pick. Hyun-ju hasn’t received that same offer, nor has Young-sik.
Player after player gets called up, but it’s obvious early on that your vote alone won’t matter. Even if every ‘O’ on your team switches, even if Young-sik and Hyun-ju had voted differently, it wouldn’t be enough.
“Player 132.”
Your body trembles, but your feet move automatically, not sparing a glance for Gi-hun or Young-il. When you reach the buttons, you stare down at the glowing red and blue domes, unblinking. It doesn’t matter, does it? What button you press? You already know the outcome. You feel a horrible guilt at the idea of taking Gi-hun’s money, just another stack soaked in blood. The money floating above you may be no different, but at least it’s from your competition - the cost of your own survival, not his.
You press ‘X’. It won’t be a close vote, not by a longshot, so your ‘X’ serves no purpose other than to prove to Gi-hun that you stand with him. Your mind is still detached as you step to the red side, standing next to Young-il but refusing to look at him.
He leans closer to you, heat prickling at your skin from his proximity. “(Y/N),” he murmurs. You bite the inside of your cheek, not reacting. You feel ridiculous, like the little kid you haven’t been in so many years right now, crushing on a married guy. It isn’t his fault. Maybe he felt protective of you, just because you’re only in your 20s. He never actually did anything untoward.
His hand in your hair, stroking it until you fell asleep. Comforting, safe, but not wrong.
The blue crowd cheers on their side - another recruit to continue the games. He sighs softly, settling a hand on your arm. Your body jolts, despite yourself, a zing running through you, your eyes flicking up to meet his despite yourself. “I–”
“Excuse me, everyone!” Gi-hun’s voice rings out across the room, taking command of it. Your breath catches, head turning to stare at him as he walks toward the center. Ever since the first game, he’s been magnetic, unignorable. Young-il’s hand tightens on your arm, then drops, and he suddenly steps forward before Gi-hun can make it to the open space.
“Are you all out of your minds?” Young-il shouts, sending a shiver through you. Your eyes flick to him, stunned. “You still want to keep going after watching all those people die? Who’s to say you won’t die in the next game? We have to stop. We’ll all die if we keep going! Come to your senses, and leave with that money.”
You feel like you’re waiting for something - maybe the guards to step in, to shout that interruptions to the voting process aren’t allowed, for one of them to press a gun to Young-il’s head. But it doesn’t come.
Players from the ‘O’ side step up to argue, including the detestable player 100. But your eyes drift back to Gi-hun, watching him watch Young-il. Touched isn’t the right word, but Young-il joining him in protesting the continuation of these sadistic games definitely affects him. Gi-hun’s eyes are huge, relieved, to not be fighting for this alone. Awe doesn’t fit any better, but it’s the only thing your mind comes up with.
“If we play one more game, the prize will be at least 240 million!”
For some reason you cannot decipher, it’s Gi-hun’s expression that pushes you to step forward, into the aisle. “And if you die?” you say, your words sharp, eyes flicking to player 043, who had just spoken. “Almost a third of the players died in this last game. What makes you think you’re special enough to make it out? You’re all cowards, just hoping as many people as possible die. You’re not fucking invincible - everyone here has the same odds of getting out. Do you feel so lucky? There’s 255 of us left - if another 110 die, that’s almost half of us. 50/50 odds - a coin flip. Heads, you win - tails, you’re gone forever, and you’ll be the one who dug that grave.”
Silence, for just a moment. Then, player 095 - Young-mi, you remind yourself, Young-mi - sobs, tears streaming down her face, pleading with the other players to not continue these games. Pity wrenches through your gut, and again, you wonder what someone so fragile could have done to end up here. How she ever called the number on that business card after being slapped by the recruiter. You find yourself unable to look at her, your eyes finding Gi-hun’s once more. Something akin to dread builds in his expression, but there’s a quiet gratitude laying under the surface.
Young-il steps between you two, eyes locking on yours for just a moment before scanning the crowded ‘O’ side.
“If you die here, your family won’t even get your body. Then it’d be the end for you and your family! Don’t you see?” Young-il shouts, but the ‘O’s are beyond hearing. Their arguments are solid enough, but they refuse to acknowledge on thing - that every single one of them is praying that as many people as possible will die, besides themselves. It doesn’t take long for them to start up a chant, mob mentality kicking in, spreading like an airborne virus.
“One more game! One more game!”
A chill runs through you. Those words were exactly what you had thought during the first vote. One more. Just one more.
The vote continues, digital numbers climbing higher and higher, and you can’t bear to watch. Knowing the way something ends is much different from watching it all happen. Will you survive one more? And what about the one after that? There’s little chance that the vote will turn back to your team’s favor - at least, not while player 100 is alive. 10 billion won owed… that man won’t rest until there’s at least only four players left, splitting the prize into 11.4 billion per person.
Gi-hun’s posture is slumped in the glow of his red vote, and your heart aches for him. He’s a good man, you know it deep in your soul. How a man like that could possibly win such cruel games is beyond you. And to be the only one to make it out alive…
Your feet take you to his side before your mind catches up. “Gi-hun,” you murmur, your hand grabbing his wrist. He goes still, statuesque, but you persist. “Please, can we… can we talk?”
A few breaths pass, but he nods, turning to you, his wrist slipping from your hand. He looks down at his arm, then his eyes meet yours. He feels… strange. It’s the same tightness in his chest as he felt earlier, when you approached his team with Jun-hee in tow. There was no guarantee that his team would do better than any other, especially since he hadn’t known the game going in. But the look in your eyes as they met his, a desperate edge to them, but not desperate on your own behalf… it had stunned him into silence. He wasn’t able to speak. It wasn’t the desperation, but the sheer trust that affected him so. You had trusted him with two lives, neither one of them your own. He’s not worthy of that trust. Every life that has been entrusted to his care, with the exception of two, has met a violent end. Both you and Young-il, so firm in your belief of him. He wants to apologize now, for not speaking up when you asked for his help. But what could he say? He can’t explain his reaction, the stunned twist of his chest the way he’d been trapped in your gaze. The way his mind had fit the puzzle pieces into place to paint a clear picture of his understanding of your character.
Your eyes are wide, intense as they meet his. “What is it?” he asks quietly, his brows furrowing, his lips set in the frown he’s worn for years now. “Are you alright?”
You huff out a breath, nodding, the intensity never leaving your expression. “Yes, but… Well. I had a few questions,” you say slowly, your expression pinching, as though you’re holding something back.
“A few questions,” he repeats dumbly, rubbing at his wrist, still feeling the warmth of your hand. He hasn’t been touched, not gently, in years now. “About?”
You swallow, and his eyes follow the bob of your throat, chest seizing with that strange tightness. “About… about your games. If you don’t mind. I know it’s a hard subject, but… We need to plan ahead, to think more about how this will all play out.” He just gives you a blank stare. Faintly, he feels himself nod for you to continue. “At this point in the games, how… how many people were left, in yours?”
Gi-hun’s brows furrow, and he tries to think, beyond the blood splatters on the playground scene, beyond the sounds of gunshots, beyond his tongue desperately working to melt the sugar honeycomb candy. “About 100,” he says finally, taking a deep, shuddering breath.
“Oh, wow,” you mutter, eyes flicking up to the board. “So… 155 less than we have now. You really must have saved a lot of people this time around, interfering in that first game.”
His eyes squeeze shut for just a moment, remembering the weight of a body pinning him to the ground, after the first death caused a stampede of people attempting to escape. But… but you’re right. So many more people died in his first Red Light, Green Light game. “And?” he asks tiredly, rubbing his forehead, trying to focus on this room, not that giant field filled with blood. To not remember revisiting it later, when it was empty, with only one opponent. Sang-woo. He flinches, tries to cover it with a cough, but when his eyes meet yours, he can tell he wasn’t fooling you.
“Sorry, it’s just… Well, it’s impressive. You’ve given more people a chance, here.” You cross your arms, shoulders hunching up, but your eyes don’t leave his. “They said it was new, allowing the players to vote after every round. You didn’t have that choice?”
“No… well. If the players called a vote, and the majority decided to leave, then the money would be split among the deceased players’ families. None of the surviving players would get anything. My…” His jaw clenches on reflex, and he shakes his head. “One player called for a vote, after the first game.”
“And everyone chose to stay?” you ask, brow furrowing.
“No… no, actually. We all left. But they gave us the option to return. Most of us did,” he explains quietly, eyes flicking around the room, finding it hard to look at you as he answers the stream of questions, the tightness in his chest only growing.
You pause, taking that in, your breaths even beside him, almost meditative. He peers at you out of the corner of the eye, taking in the contemplative twist of your lips. “Why would they change the rule?” The question stuns him, and he doesn’t have an answer. If anything, it might be because of him. To prove a point. But that feels too self-important to say, to admit that the Front Man may be choosing to play a separate game with him at the cost of hundreds of lives. But you don’t wait for an answer, sucking in a quiet breath. “How many people made it to the final game?”
His eyes flutter shut. “Two. Is that all of your questions?” he asks, voice a bit too sharp, now. Raw emotions threaten to crash over the dam he’d built in his mind. Memories, he can handle. But they don’t exactly have therapy for the kind of trauma he went through, and every emotion goes unsorted.
Silence. Gi-hun opens his eyes, squinting at you, feeling oddly guilty. It’s not your fault, not really. But this isn’t a subject he’s spoken openly about, ever, and he feels like a stripped wire. “Yes, sir,” you mutter, arms tightening across your chest. “I’m just trying to figure out the best way to convince these people to leave. One of them needs 10 billion - that means he won’t rest until there’s only 4 players left. If not less. I’m sure the gamemakers will want to cut the number of players by more than half in the next game, to try and make the final games closer.”
His eyes slowly open more as you speak, surprised by the observations. They’d tickled at the back of his head, but he’d been operating on blind determination this entire time. Analysis has never been his strong suit, though admittedly he’s gotten better at it in the years since his own game. You remind him of…
He bites the inside of his cheek, almost hard enough to draw blood. “Yeah,” he agrees, his voice quieting to something softer. “You don’t need to call me sir,” and those words are just blurted out, spilling like a bowl of ramen after too much soju. It’s the last thing that he should have focused on, but it feels wrong, to have you call him something so impersonal. “I’m sorry for being short with you, it’s just that… I don’t speak about that time.” He reaches out, but aborts the motion halfway through, his hand hanging in the air. What the hell is wrong with him? “You say that you think they’ll try to cut the players by more than half?”
You nod, your eyes softening as you look up at him. “We need to keep our team together next round. To keep as many of us alive as we can, but also… because we’re the only votes that can be guaranteed to be ‘X’ next time.”
Resourceful and compassionate. Something inside him aches as he nods, feeling struck dumb. “You said you were a student, didn’t you?” he asks, eyes roaming over your features as you blink back at him.
“Uh… yeah, actually. I spend most of my time studying, to be entirely honest,” you admit, eyeing him curiously. “Why?”
The corners of his lips twist up, a gesture that feels unfamiliar in his life after becoming a billionaire. “Nothing. I can tell, though. I appreciate having your brain to work on this with me.” He pauses, tilting his head. “Is that why you’re here? Student loans?”
You stiffen, eyes widening a fraction, biting your lip. But you nod. “That, and to help my father,” you say vaguely. You have every right to play your cards close to your chest, but he wants them laid out bare, for him to study, learn, understand. The urge terrifies him.
He swallows past the lump in his throat, nodding. Your father. “You shouldn’t be the one bearing your father’s problems,” he mutters. A brief alternate future flashes through his eyes, one where Ga-yeong, as an adult, has to pay his gambling debts, one where he never entered the games. Guilt stabs through him. “What is it? Gambling?”
What he doesn’t expect is the way your expression darkens, your mouth twisting into a frown that doesn’t fit your face. “Housing debts. He hasn’t had a job in a while, and he was never good at holding one down to begin with. Maybe gambling - I haven’t asked.” Your face is pinched, your lips a distractingly cute shape, even in your upset. He feels a bit dizzy, actually, but he shakes it off, feeling an instant aversion for your father. Perhaps it’s because he reminds Gi-hun of who he used to be, who he still could’ve become. “He’s in the hospital,” you add in a hushed tone, but don’t elaborate. He doesn’t want to push you, but he feels a shocking wave of anger. You shouldn’t be here - although he believes that about every person in this room, that nobody deserves to end up in these games, it’s fiercer, more violent when it’s you. Sure, you likely have your own debts as a student, but your father’s incapability shouldn’t be the reason your life is on the line.
“So that’s why you voted to stay after the first game?” he asks, his voice insistent, intense. Angry.
Maybe you think he’s angry at you, because your eyes narrow. “Yes. But I voted ‘X’ this time, didn’t I? Why, is that a problem?”
“He shouldn’t be your responsibility. He should be taking care of you.”
“He’s my father,” you snap back, defensive. “He’s the only person I have in this country, the only parent I have left. I’m not–” You cut yourself off, eyes oddly shiny, and it takes him a moment to realize that you’re tearing up. His mouth opens, then clamps shut, his expression clearing itself of the white-hot anger he’d felt. His hand reaches out, taking your upper arm in his grasp. Right. Your father is in the hospital, and here he is, practically yelling at you for giving a damn, just because it made him uncomfortable to be speaking to someone on the other side of the situation he had been in years ago.
His own mother’s death sits in his chest, unresolved, clumsily compartmentalized along with every other horrible thing he’s had to deal with. The guilt of eternally letting her down, until the very end. Of not even being by her side in her last moments. Of Ga-yeong, thousands of miles away, and the way these games got in the way of everything and everyone he cared about.
“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, his eyes wide, flicking between your own.
Gi-hun hadn’t said anything that you hadn’t already crossed your mind. Your own guilt feels like lead in the pit of your stomach, Gi-hun���s words mirroring your worst thoughts. His apology stings, a slap to the face. Why should he be sorry? You feel sick. “Whatever, alright? It’s fine.” You rub at your eyes, at the tears that never fell. “We all have baggage.” Yours just happens to be a sick, indebted father, and a strained relationship with your dead mom. “I voted to leave, even though that money up there isn’t enough to cover it all. Whatever your baggage is, beyond these damn games, isn’t my fault, and you shouldn’t be taking it out on me.” Gi-hun just stares at you, wide-eyed, looking a little younger. Not by very much - but he looks like the man he might’ve been, before his first time in these games. 
A thought bubbles up like a laugh, that it’s probably been a while since he was last scolded by a woman for hurting her feelings.
He presses his lips together, eyes darting to the side, and you realize, belatedly, that his hand is still warm on your arm. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, softer this time. “I told you, though, I’ll give you enough money to cover your debts. Your father’s, too.” He squeezes your shoulder, his other hand partially raised, almost in surrender.
You would laugh if that sentiment doesn’t twist the knife in deeper, despite being well-intentioned. “I already feel horrible enough, taking the blood money from this game,” you reply, voice tight. “I don’t know if I can handle your ghosts on top of my own.”
Gi-hun’s expression twists, but there’s a deep understanding in his eyes. “Please. If that money is good for anything, it’s helping people escape the same fate that others couldn’t.”
Your insides are churning, a befuddling mixture of guilt, pain, understanding, appreciation, and… something else, something you shove deep down. If your feelings for Young-il were misplaced, you refuse to make the same mistake twice. But something about Gi-hun tells you that he’s unmarried, unattached. A man with any kind of relationship in the outside world, filial or romantic, wouldn’t come back to a place like this.
“If we make it out,” you finally reply, your shoulders dropping, arms loosening. Gi-hun nods, his expression drawing in at the reminder. One more game. “I’m still with you, Gi-hun. I trust you.”
He smiles, just a little, and finally releases your shoulder, albeit hesitantly. There’s something strange in his eyes, stress or guilt or something more. As you finally walk away, you don’t let yourself wonder, don’t let yourself get caught up in frivolous emotions for a man who carries too much weight to ever let someone else lighten the load. And you pretend you don’t feel Young-il’s eyes watching you as you take a bed in the corner with Gi-hun’s group, choosing to lay down and stare at the mattress above you, trying not to think of anything at all.
﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵ ﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵
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