𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗦▶𐙚 As the ever loving lover girl that you are, you've had crushes with the NRC students in the past, and you've made love letters of them— now it's burried in your notes app for many months now.
However, what happens when Grim, your ever loving son, accidentally sends all of it to them— all seperate to the receiver of course. And what happens when you eventually find out?
𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗦▶𐙚 friends to lovers, fluff, SMAU, second chances, love letters, confessions, harem, Yuu! reader, yearner! NCR boys, messy drama, lover girl! reader, dandere! reader, gender neutral! reader, confession walls
𝗔/𝗡▶𐙚 My ass was trying to think of an event of yk my 10k likes and I remembered that I once sent my friend a love letter that I wrote to my crush and they said "do you want me to send this to him" ME THINKING SHE WAS JOKIN SAID "sure lol" AND SHE DID SHE ACTUALLY DID- and I thought yk what ima do project this to the twst ccast heheheheh
▶𐙚𝗧𝗪𝗜𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗗 𝗪𝗢𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗫 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥
╰─➤ 𝓟rologue
- it all goes down hill from here. Grim thought it was the right message, you thought you could trust Grim. Now what?
breaking through the RSA haze because of course I couldn't forget about Grim in his special little stripey jammies! he's ready to join us at the slumber party and stay up WAY past his bedtime (just...after he rests his eyes for a second...)
In which GN!Reader brags to Sebek about going on coffee dates with Malleus, their boyfriend.
Fluff. Established relationship (with Malleus). Gender-neutral!Reader. Requested by Anon. Reader is texting Sebek. Original GIF and tags under the cut.
Summary: When the Invincible variants arrived on Earth, you never expected to get involved. It’s not like you knew Invincible personally. What you didn’t know was that you’d ended up housing one of these variants, and you didn’t know for weeks.
Basically Viltrumite Mark pretends to be the Mark you know.
Word Count: 5k
Previous Part:
1
Warnings: Alludes to comic spoilers once if you SQUINT, and I mean SQUINT. It's literally "if you know you know" I tried to keep this as open to both show enjoyers and comic enjoyers as possible.
OH MY GOD THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT ON THE FIRST PART. I WAS NOT EXPECTING THAT. I tried to take any advice given to me. Thank you!!!
“I am not working with you again. I don’t care that there is another version of me out there causing issues.” Mark gestures wildly before rubbing his temples.
“You have all the superheroes you could ever need on call. You could defeat half of them without me. You don’t need me right now. I have to be there for Eve. If this other version of me is really that big of an issue, then just send every other superhero you have.” Mark walks past Cecil, leaving him alone in Eve’s room.
“Mark, please try to be reasonable.” Cecil follows him soon after.
Mark scoffs, “If I see him, I will take action.” He stops in his tracks. “This does not mean I’m working for you. I will take action if people are getting hurt. Do not expect me to be at your beck and call.” He turns, glaring at Cecil.
Cecil sighs, “If that’s the most you’ll do…”
“It is.” Mark cuts in sharply. “In case you have forgotten, I refuse to work with you. Now, I have other things to attend to.”
“At least let us know if you see him out in public, please, Mark. If not for me, then for the betterment of humanity.” Cecil tries.
“Oh yes, I’ll just shoot you a text! ‘Hey, Cecil, I know we hate each other, but there’s another version of me destroying the world right now.’” Mark exclaims sarcastically, holding his hands up as if questioning whether Cecil is serious. Cecil looks at him unimpressed.
“I don’t hate you, kid.” Cecil responds.
“Yeah, okay, but why even ask? I’m sure you’ll know if there’s an attack or something before I do. I wouldn’t even be surprised if you spy on me even when I’m not out saving people.” Mark looks at Cecil suspiciously.
Cecil sighs; he looks like he’s given up. “Just keep an eye out, kid. Please.”
“I will let you know if another version of me decides to attack me. Otherwise, call somebody else.” Mark reiterates, beginning to walk past Cecil.
“Wait,” Mark stops in his tracks. “You know we’re always here to talk, right?” Cecil looks at Mark, who returns a conflicted look.
“I don’t really want to talk to you,” He shakes his head, continuing his path, “but thanks.” Mark continues as he exits the Pentagon.
--------------------------
“Dude, where'd you get this coffee?” You ask, examining the foreign packing of the coffee beans Mark returned with. You take a sip from his cup, and he gives you a weird look.
“Brazil.” He answers.
You roll your eyes. “Very funny. No, seriously, you have to tell me. I gotta know your sources.”
He looks at you, “Can’t expose all my secrets.” He looks at you, amused.
“Okay fineeee, but you gotta promise to get me some more if we run out.” You relent, finishing his coffee.
“...That was my cup.” He sounds a little despondent.
“Sorry, we can make another batch.” You smile guiltily. He sighs, but goes to make more. You check the bag of groceries he brought. “Woah, this all looks authentic.” You examine the dry pasta that he bought.
“Did you travel to Italy too?” You joke, smiling at him.
“Yes.” He responds seriously. You laugh in response and stand up to wash the cup you stole from Mark.
“Oooh, next time you go, you should bring back pizza or something!” You grin at him, finding it funny how he seems so solemn with his responses.
“Hm, perhaps.” He says as he grabs two mugs.
“Oh, you don’t have to get a mug for me.” You say as he looks up at you, unimpressed.
“Really? So you won’t drink from my cup if I only make one for myself?” Mark narrows his eyes suspiciously.
You shake your head, “No, I won’t, Scout’s honor.” You place a hand on your chest.
Mark sighs before putting away the second mug. He pours himself a cup and takes a sip. He looks at you, then at his cup. “We should put away the groceries.”
You nod, “Of course.” You go to help him put the groceries away.
Mark stops in his tracks, “Are you serious?”
You look at him, then back at the cup you stole again. “Sorry, I wasn’t going to, but you commented on it, so I had to.” You take a slow sip, making it as loud as possible.
“You said ‘Scout’s honor.’ Do you have no honor?” He shakes his head in disappointment.
You snap your fingers, “That’s the thing! I was never a scout.” You put the cup down. “Don’t worry, I didn’t finish it this time.” You gesture vaguely to the cup.
He walks up to you, frowning. He looks at the cup, “You contaminated it.”
You laugh in surprise, “Oh, come on, you’ve drunk from my cups before. Think of this as payment for providing you with temporary housing.”
Mark furrows his eyebrows, “I have?” He hesitantly picks up the cup before drinking from it.
“Uh yeah? Wait, I think? Great, now you got me questioning it.” You sigh, heading over to the couch to turn on the TV. “Let’s see what’s on…”
The camera focuses on a massive floating figure. He seems to be towering over Invincible. They appear to be engaging in some sort of fight. The headline proves that your guess is correct.
“Hey, that looks like what the Chicago Destroyer Invincibile was wearing.” You comment offhandedly. Mark, on the other hand, coughs violently before walking over to watch with you.
“‘Chicago Destroyer Invincible?’” Mark quotes you incredulously.
“What? He destroyed Chicago, it’s either that or that one Invincible wearing white. That doesn’t really roll off the tongue— ooh, that was a nice punch.”
Mark still seems hung up on the “Chicago Destroyer” part. “From planet conqueror to Chicago Destroyer.” He scoffs, muttering the words low enough that you don’t hear.
“It looks like Invincible’s getting his ass handed to him though… Ouch, that looks like that’d hurt.” You comment, watching as the unknown attacker slams Invincible into the ground.
“Yeah…” Mark doesn’t sound very upset, “He’ll probably die here. That guy looks powerful.” You glare at Mark.
“You’re supposed to root for the good guy, Mark. Invincible is on our side.” You shake your head disapprovingly, placing a hand on your chest, feeling offended for Invincible.
He holds his hands up in surrender, “I’m just saying. I mean, look at him. Didn’t you also just say he’s getting his ‘ass handed to him?’” You both look at Invincible getting slammed on the ground and punched into the sky. You grimace as the fight goes out of frame… anddd probably out of that city.
“Okay, fine, but have some faith. Invincible is the one defending us. I mean, what’s gonna happen if this guy wins? Take over the Earth?”
“Yeah, probably,” Mark responds unfazed.
You chuckle at his deadpan response. “Damn, if we were conquered, what would happen to us? I can’t imagine we’re useful to people who can fly and have super strength like that. Maybe we'd be like slaves? I’d be such an awful slave.” Marks looks at you like you’re crazy.
”You wouldn’t be a slave.” Mark responds.
“Aww, thanks, I don’t think you’d be a slave either.” You respond affectionately.
“What? No, of course I wouldn’t— That’s not the point.” Mark shakes his head, looking back toward the TV.
You laugh at his response, placing your hand onto him, “Didn’t realize you feel so strongly about your ability to not be enslaved.” He stares at your hand, but he doesn’t flinch. He moves slightly away from your touch.
“Very funny.” He replies unamused. “He could, though. Enslave humanity.”
“Invincible? Nah, doubt it.” You play dumb, also knowing fully well that if he wanted, he probably could. Mark gives you a disappointed stare. “Fine, fine. If he truly wanted to, he could. I felt like that was pretty obvious. Not sure why you’re so serious about this.” You mumble.
“You could die out there,” Mark states, wow, okay. Somebody is feeling optimistic.
“Of course, I could die out there, Mark. Unless you’re secretly Invincible, then there’s nothing we can do if somebody like that invaded us.” You gesture to the TV, feeling yourself get frustrated by his negative outlook.
“Last I checked, Invincible is getting beaten up out there, so like it or not, we can’t change anything.” He gives you a conflicted look. “I’m going to go do some work. I’ll be at my desk.” You stand up, he looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t.
--------------------------
“Conquest was defeated.” Mark later walks into your room.
“Who?” You ask, still a little on edge. Normally, you wouldn’t care about Mark's comments here and there, but Mark had been making comments like this ever since he started staying with you. It was just so unlike him.
He pauses for a moment, and you turn your chair to him. “That guy who was beating up Invincible. He’s apparently called ‘Conquest,’” Mark elaborates. You nod in understanding.
You look over, and Mark is standing over at the door like a lost puppy. A tall and serious lost puppy. The image is so jarring you almost burst out laughing. You sigh, “I’m sorry.”
He blinks, “You apologize a lot.”
You remain silent, “Sorry..?” He looks vaguely amused.
You decide to change the subject, “I tried texting Eve. She is okay. William is fine, too.” Mark hums.
“Did you tell them I was here?” Mark asks. He makes his tone seem casual, but there is something hidden underneath the surface.
“Uhh, not yet, I literally just heard back from her… I’ll text them right now—“ You jolt as he grabs your hand, halting your movement. “Mark, what—“
“Don’t tell her anything. For a matter of fact, don’t tell William either.” He replies with a sense of urgency in his tone.
You frown, “Did you guys all argue or something? Even if they’re mad at you, I still think they’d want to know you’re safe.” You remove your hand from his grip, barely registering the loss of warmth in your confusion.
“Look… just please don’t tell them. They have enough on their plates as it is. They don’t need to find out my house is destroyed.” Mark tries, looking at you with eyes reflecting some emotion.
“Do you trust me?” He asks.
“Of course…” You reply softly. “Mark, you have to talk to them eventually.”
He nods, “I will, but not today. Just… trust me on this.” He looks down at your hand. He looks up, “Don’t tell them.”
You look at his eyes, pleading. This is probably the most genuine emotion he’s shown (other than joy at destroying you in that game of Uno, but you don’t count that).
You sigh, “Fine…” The conflict in his eyes is suddenly gone; it’s back to that blank look. You both sit in silence, before he eventually stands up. You frown, “Where are you going?” You ask, watching as he heads towards the front door to leave.
“Out.” He turns to leave before pausing. “Do you… need anything while I’m gone?” He seems unsure whether he should ask the question.
You smile, “Oh yeah, just that Italian pizza I was asking for earlier. With your skills in finding hidden gems, I can’t imagine it’s too difficult.” You joke, leaning against your room’s doorway. He gives you a deadpan look before nodding and closing the door behind him.
You frown, “He could’ve at least said yes or no.” You close the door to your room behind you. You go back to work for the next few hours.
Eventually, you take a peek out of your room. Huh, still not here. Whatever he decided to do must be taking up quite a bit of time.
You are scrolling on your computer when you see a headline. It reads “NEW CAMERA SHY SUPER VILLAIN FIGHTS WITH GUARDIANS, ALL GUARDIANS SEVERELY INJURED.”
Normally, you wouldn’t spare a second glance, but it’s unusual that all the guardians get attacked. You open the article. The giant photo showing this new “super villain” is blurry. There are no defining features. All you can see is that they are wearing dark colors and are floating over the injured Guardians.
“New super villain is pictured decimating the Guardians. There seems to be no previous record of this figure. It appears as if he was after the Guardians specifically. Nobody knows names, but everybody is asking questions. Why did they do this?”
“Early witnesses describe seeing the fight originally between this mysterious individual and Atom Eve. It must have been a planned attack, as Atom Eve was recently out due to presumed injuries acquired during the Invincible War.”
“Whoever this is seems to have a vendetta against her. As of now, all the Guardians are safe and receiving medical attention. Perhaps the most odd thing about this is that this figure fled the fight. Why? We have no idea. However, we’re grateful nonetheless. Eyewitnesses seemed to see the figure flee soon after they started filming the fight up close. Perhaps the new villain is camera shy?” You snort reading that last line.
You look at the photos provided by various witnesses. All show the initial battle between the person fighting Atom Eve. All you can see is their back, you vaguely register that they look to be masculine, but it’s difficult to tell with the low quality and distance. Eventually, when they turn to face the camera’s direction, it just turns into a blur.
After scrolling through the photos, you read the rest of the article. The second half seems to detail the damage done to the Guardians. It’s crazy how much is occurring right now. First, those Invincibles, then Conquest, and now the Guardians?
“That’s wild…” You mutter, scrolling up and down through the article.
“What’s wild?” A voice says.
“OH MY GOSH! MARK?!” You press yourself to the back of your chair, jumping in surprise. “When’d you get back?! I didn’t even hear you open the front door?”
He doesn’t respond, instead, your eyes are drawn to the pizza box he holds up.
“Oh, you actually got pizza.” You smile, standing up and walking out to the kitchen. He trails behind you and places the box down.
“You doubted me?” He asks as you grab plates for you two.
“Nah.” You grab a slice. “Anyway, where’d you go?” You ask casually, sitting down.
“Out.” He responds, grabbing the plate and getting a slice.
“Ooh, how descriptive.” You chuckle, taking a bite of the pizza.
“How were you while I was gone?” He asks, changing the subject.
“Eh, bored. I was doing some work, but then I got caught up reading an article. Apparently, some guy went out and attacked the Guardians.” His head slowly turns toward you as you speak.
“Somebody attacked the guardians.” He said, looking at you, nodding in affirmation. “Did you see who it was?” He asks casually.
You shake your head, “No. People are saying he’s camera shy. Nobody could get a clean shot without him fleeing the scene.” You chuckle at the thought. Imagine being so powerful that you could take on the Guardians alone, but flee at the first sign of a phone.
“Camera shy.” He repeats, looking at you, and he looks slightly disturbed.
“Yep, at least that’s what the article said. Wouldn’t show his face anywhere. Must be new. Probably doesn’t want people to be able to trace his identity. Hey, it’s kinda funny how he popped up after Invincibile went MIA.”
“I doubt he’d want to fight Invincible. Probably creates too many issues.” He looks at the pizza slice, studying it.
“Where’d you get this pizza anyway? I think this is the best pizza I’ve ever had.” You continue, you turn your gaze to the blank pizza box. Not even a company name on there. You snap your attention back to him, “Don’t tell me you’re gonna keep it a secret too.”
He eats in silence, not making eye contact with you.
“Markkkk!” You groan. “Come on, it can't be that important to keep it a secret.” You frown, looking at him. He continues to eat in silence, ignoring your presence entirely. “We’re friends, right? Come on.”
He finally looks up, “Oh, friends? Hm, didn’t realize.” He says offhandedly. “Are you going to want more?” He asks, looking at the box.
“Changing the subject, I see.” You observe. “We can save it for later.” You finish up your slice.
“Don’t tell me you were actually getting pizza for two hours?” You ask as you start to clean the dishes.
His lips turn up to resemble a smile, “I wasn’t.”
--------------------------
“Are you sure it was him?” Cecil asks, standing across Eve’s hospital bed.
She narrows her eyes before standing up, “Yes, I’m sure. I think I’d recognize Mark when I see him.” She starts to walk to the door.
“Anything notable about him?” Cecil asks, following her to the doorway, she pauses.
“Aside from the fact that he single-handedly beat us in combat?” She asks, turning to face him.
“You barely had any time to recover after Conquest, and you were unprepared.” Cecil justifies, shaking his head.
“We didn’t get the chance to tell you that it wasn’t Mark out there. Don’t beat yourself up.” He places a hand on her shoulder.
Eve looks down, frowning, “He fought much differently than I had expected from Mark, even an alternate version.”
Cecil nods as if expecting that, “He fought like a Viltrumite, right?” She nods. “That’s expected.” He walks past her, gesturing to her to follow.
“Based on the information we gathered, the version that was left behind joined the Viltrum Empire. We highly suspect he was even raised on Viltrum.” Eve follows behind as he explains.
“While I hate to say it, he’s probably going to share more similarities with Nolan than he will with our Mark.” He pauses to look at Eve.
She looks down, conflicted, “But.. isn’t he a version of Mark? Can we maybe appeal to him in some way? I mean, they are the same person in a literal sense. Deep down, maybe he can be reasoned with.”
“I doubt it,” Cecil responds, and Eve looks up at him.
“Have you even tried?” She asks, slightly frustrated.
Cecil shakes his head, “No, and if you know what’s good for everyone, you won’t. He’s a Viltrumite. Our Mark is a different case, and if we’ve learned anything from Viltrumites from Viltrum…” He pauses before turning towards her.
“They see us as lower beings, pets. They cannot be appealed to. Our Mark is the special case. Don’t think that because they’re the same person, they have the same principles.”
She goes silent, “So, what do you want me to do if I encounter him?” She asks softly.
Cecil looks at her, determined, “Don’t hold back.”
--------------------------
You wake up the next morning feeling a tingle in your throat. No…
You are not getting sick. You refuse to. Maybe if you drink water..?
You take a sip, hoping the tingle will go away. It doesn’t. You try clearing your throat to see if it will go away. Damn.
Mark walks into your room, “Are you dying?” He asks, unconcerned.
“Maybe,” He suddenly looks up alarmed, “I think I’m getting sick.” You both look at each other.
He takes a step back, creating distance between you two. “Oh, come on. Seriously? You’ve been here for days, and you’ve been fine.”
“I don’t want whatever foreign illness you may have acquired.” He grimaces.
“Oh, don’t be dramatic.” You roll your eyes.
“I’m not. I just don’t like viruses.” He states.
“You never even get sick! I rarely see you get sick, if ever!” You exclaim.
“Yeah, cause I keep my distance.” He replies.
“It’s just a sore throat, Mark. It’s not like I have the plague.” You groan. “I’m going to make some tea.”
He watches you walk past him to the kitchen, following behind you. “How did you even get sick?” He asks.
You shrug, “I don’t know. Stress perhaps? I haven’t been around anybody but you recently. Unless you were recovering from being sick when you came over.” You theorize out loud. Mark watches as you grab a tea bag and mug.
“I doubt that. Why would you be stressed?” He asks, sitting down on one of the kitchen stools.
“Not sure. There was that attack all those Invincibles did and that whole Conquest thing.” You guess.
“You weren’t even near those attacks, though.” Mark frowns.
“Yeah, but you were near one of them.” You attempt to clear your throat.
“So you’re stressing over me?” He asks, seemingly confused over the concept.
You misinterpret his confusion, “Mark, you don’t stress me out. Life,” You gesture outside, “does. The possibility of death is a little bit stressful.”
He looks at you, conflicted. You can’t imagine why. “So you’re sick cause you’re stressed about my, what, well-being?” He asks.
You sigh, “Don’t think too hard, Mark.” You can see the gears turning in his head. For some reason, he can’t seem to fathom you caring like that. “I was just guessing anyway.”
“So you don’t even know why you’re sick?” He reiterates, seeming incapable of not understanding how you don’t know the exact cause of your illness.
“That’s kinda what a ‘guess’ means, yeah.” You nod amused.
“Are the hospitals here that bad?” He asks. You can’t tell if he’s actually asking you or not. It seems like he’s talking to himself.
“What?” You chuckle, confused, “I don’t think a cold requires a hospital trip.” He looks at you, seemingly conflicted.
“Okay…” He doesn’t seem to accept the answer, “Do you need anything?” He asks.
You smile, “Probably just some rest.” You clear your throat. “Ugh, I sound awful.” You shudder.
Mark watches you for a moment before leaving the room suddenly. You frown, “Damn, bye I guess.” You mutter to yourself.
You drink your tea for about a minute before he returns. He has a blanket in his arms.
You watch as he walks behind you, placing it on your back like a cloak. His hand lingers on your shoulder.
You feel moved by his kindness, so you don’t mention that you feel like you're burning alive. You accept the blanket. “Thanks.” You smile.
He looks at you, eyes softening for a brief moment before looking away. You wonder if you imagined it, seeing as there’s been nothing but a serious expression on his face these days.
“We can share the bed if you’d like. You don’t have to sleep on the couch. I can’t imagine it’ll be helpful for your recovery.” He avoids eye contact.
You chuckle amused before coughing, “Weren’t you the one who didn’t even want to be near me?” You can feel your face heating up. Damn, maybe you have a fever. You do feel like you’re melting.
He eventually looks at you, all softness (imagined or not) gone from his expression. “The offer stands.” He responds.
“What is this, a business transaction?” You start laughing, but launch yourself into a coughing fit. “Maybe I’ll take you up on your offer.” You say, not thinking anything of it.
Mark nods stoically, not saying anything else on the subject.
“Mark,” you feel reluctant to bring the topic up, “are you doing… okay?” You think back to his distance from Eve and William.
He pauses, unsure where this is going. “Yes, why?” He responds, his tone betraying nothing.
“It’s just… I thought you and Eve had a” you gesture at him, “thing… going on.” You take a sip of your tea.
Mark stared at you, “You thought we were courting?” He asks, seemingly appalled by the idea.
“Yeah, I mean you’re with her all the time. Then suddenly you’re here and refuse to speak with her.” You tap on your mug. “It’s not any of my business, I know, but I just want to make sure you’re doing okay.” You look up at him. He looks at you silently.
“I don’t care about Eve.” He eventually breaks the silence.
You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, “Mark…” You sigh, “You don’t have to tell me what happened if you don’t want to.” You take another sip.
“Just…” you pause, looking up at him. His eyes are dead set on you, his expression cold. “Remember, she’s also your friend. William too. Don’t push them away over something trivial.”
Mark says your name, “Nothing is going on between us. Don’t misunderstand,” you see his expression shift as he says that last part, “I really have nothing going on with Eve.”
You smile softly, not really believing him. You’ve seen them together. They lean into each other like nobody else exists. They share smiles with each other that nobody seems to understand. They seem to exist purely in each other’s existence.
“Okay.” You sigh, not really believing him. “Just, at least try to contact them. They’d want to know you’re safe.”
Mark nods, avoiding eye contact, “Alright.”
--------------------------
After you finish your tea, you go to watch TV on the couch. Nothing interesting is on the screen. You cough again, and you can feel Mark watching you.
You let the TV drone on for a while before you feel yourself drifting off. Suddenly, you hear a knock at the door. Mark’s attention snaps to the door. You sigh, getting up.
You go to the door, covered in the blanket Mark gave you. ”Eve?” You look at her, surprised. “What’re you doing here?” You sniffle.
“I came here to see how you’re doing.” She smiles, amused. She looks at the blanket on your back. “Sick?”
You nod miserably, “Yeah. Woke up this morning not feeling too good. Do you wanna come…” Something catches your attention to your left.
You can see Mark wildly gesturing an “X,” mouthing something along the lines of “DON’T LET HER IN!” You furrow your eyebrows, but he looks at you expectantly.
“... back later? I’m really not feeling too well.” You force another cough. It sounds real since you are actually sick.
She frowns sympathetically, “Of course. Get some rest. Let me know if you need anything. I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay after everything that’s been going on. Haven’t really gotten a chance to check in.”
You nod, as you watch Mark shake his head disapprovingly to the side. “Of course. I’m glad to hear you’re okay. I trust William is fine, too?” You ask. She nods, smiling, “Yeah, both he and Mark are fine.” You nod before pausing.
“Wait, Mark contacted you?” You frown, confused. You see Mark move toward you, still out of view of Eve.
“Yeah..?” Eve frowns even more confused.
You look toward Mark, confused, and he gestures for you to close the door on Eve. “Oh, okay, well, thanks for checking in, Eve. I’m going to rest.” You gesture to your room. She nods.
“Of course, get better soon.” She smiles. You wave as she walks away before closing the door and turning to Mark.
“So…” You say slowly. Mark looks down, glaring at the floor as if it offended him. “You did contact her.”
You sigh, “Mark, I’m not mad or anything. I’m just concerned.” You frown. “Why did you lie about contacting her?” Mark looks up, seeing you looking at him, hurt.
“It’s nothing.” He brushes it off. You furrow your eyebrows. “Mark, if you’re here just to avoid Eve, then yes, it is something.”
”You think I’m here just to avoid her?” He asks incredulously.
You look away from him, “Let’s just drop the subject. I’m going to bed.” You start to go to your room to lie down. Mark watches you leave, and he looks hurt. You can’t imagine why.
As you enter your room, you close the door behind you. You are about to go to bed when you see Mark’s bag open. His stuff is scattered right next to it. You sigh, picking up some of his items and throwing them into the bag. You don’t want to step on it or trip over anything.
When you throw some of his stuff into the bag, you notice some bright piece of clothing stashed neatly in there. You were going to ignore it until you saw a bright red stain on it.
Your eyebrows furrow before you slowly move closer. You didn’t mean to snoop. It’s just that white is a very distinctive color, and a red stain like that doesn’t look normal. Perhaps you can offer to wash it for him?
Suddenly, he opens the door, medicine in hand, his eyes gravitate to you. He looks at his bag. “What are you doing?” He asks gravely.
“Your stuff was making a mess. I didn’t want to trip over it.” You say. He (not subtly) moves to cover your view of the bag, zipping it up.
“Get some rest.” He responds coldly. You feel yourself shrink under his cold demeanor. Is he mad at you because of the (unintentional) snooping, or because of the whole Eve situation? You don’t even know.
You do know one thing, however. Mark is hiding something. You don’t know how big, but it’s something he clearly does not want you to know.
Sure, it may not be any of your business, but you can’t help but feel like this is not something you should turn away from. You sit down on the bed, getting under the covers.
You look at the lone bag that Mark zipped up. He didn’t have to say anything, but the message was clear. “Don’t open this bag.” His eyes told you.
You flip over, facing the other direction. He has been acting so weird recently, distant. You kept telling yourself it was just shock from what happened, but does shock justify lies? You don’t know.
You look towards the medicine he left on the nightstand. You look at the extra blanket he grabbed for you. You snuggle closer to the blanket. Sure, he’s distant, but he’s still Mark. You turn again to the zipped-up bag.
Right?
Side note: I think this will probably be a 4-5 part series. While I will get that done, I also want to make other fics. I have this one idea for a no goggles mark fic that I'm in the middle of writing, so be on the lookout for that if you're interested. I'll probably post that one next.
So yes, there will be a part 3. It just might be a bit of a longer wait than this one was though.
Taglist: @xzmickeyzx @onlybatsyy @lilacoaks @i-love-frensh-fries @marvelwhor3 @nerds-in-glasses @creat0r-cat @ploiigee @pixviee @otomeanimemanga-fandom-writer @bloppyy @invinciblewaffles @am-3-thyst @brooks-lin @alittletiredcry @secretaccountlol @thefangirlhasarrive @strawberrymangoes @linasxoxo @lunamooina @rae-iin @alittletiredcry @sweetb3rry
If I missed you I'm so sorry, feel free to pester me lol. If you want to be added just let me know!
Finnick Odair x hijacked!reader who asks what's real or not real [2k words]
summary: a District Thirteen reunion story heavily inspired by the brilliant @ervotica's fic 'a life of our own' & @/ilguna's 'hijacked'! Reader was tortured much like Peeta was into fearing Finnick, finding her playing the game 'real or not real'
CW: fem!reader, discussion of past torture [not described], reader tortured into believing Finnick did abhorrent and disgusting things to her [not described], medical personnel acting as villains sort of, hurt/comfort, hopeful/open ending
Finnick drummed his fingers against the paperback book that he brought with him to your hospital room every day which acted as nothing more than a glorified prop.
Routine was a word that came to dictate much of Finnick’s life recently; stability. Ritualized schedules were the norm in District Thirteen. But more importantly, routine, stability, and ritualized schedules were deemed necessary and important to your recovery.
Thus, Finnick drummed his fingers against the paperback book - the same paperback book - that he brought with him to your hospital room every day - at the exact same time - which acted as nothing more than a glorified prop.
He’d been following more or less the same routine ever since you’d been rescued from the Capitol a few weeks ago, though Finnick could admit visiting you felt slightly better now than it had in the beginning.
The beginning had been nothing short of heartbreaking for him. The beginning had been nothing short of torturous for you.
There’d been a hunch in place of hard evidence that the lot of you were being tortured in the Capitol, though to what extent no one knew. And absolutely no one was prepared for what awaited them by the time the three of you were safe in District Thirteen.
Peeta had promptly tried to off Katniss which was very off brand of him; Johanna’s head had been shaved, she was emaciated, and had a plethora of evidence of gruesome physical torture, and you…
You weren’t filled with the same loathing, hatred, and disgust that Peeta seemed to carry for Katniss. No, you were completely and utterly terrified.
Medics had to sedate you when Finnick rushed into the room upon hearing of your arrival because you’d thrown yourself against the wall so violently you’d split your head open, then nearly ripped your nails clean off your fingers in your desperation to open a locked door in an attempt to escape from him. And if that hadn’t been devastating enough, the sounds of your guttural screams and desperate cries caused by him still haunted many of Finnick’s nightmares.
Finnick had been hesitant to return to you after that; he didn’t want to ever cause you that much distress again.
Haymitch tried to reason with him; Finnick wasn’t the one causing you this much distress, it was the Capitol. The medics tried to reason with him; it was to be considered exposure therapy, they hoped that - over time - as you regained some familiarity and comfort with him and worked through your memories and trauma with the doctors that you’d start to remember.
He reluctantly agreed. So, he was horrified when, the first day he returned, you’d been strapped down to your bed in preparation for his meeting.
“This is sick!” He’d shouted at the medics as he gestured at your current state. “This isn’t exposure therapy, this is torture!”
“Mr. Odair, the hope is that once she begins to realize there’s no need to fight or run, we’ll be able to take the restraints off.” One of them explained in a bored manner.
“Fuck whatever you’re hoping for! You’re torturing her; she’s not going to feel any safer here than she did in the Capitol!”
They’d tried calling after him, but he simply looked over at you and offered a pathetic “I’m sorry, honey” that you probably hadn’t heard over your own desperate wails before he fled.
The next day he returned, you hadn’t been strapped down, but you had been heavily medicated with some kind of sedative before his arrival. He swallowed around the bile in his throat as he took a seat in one of the chairs, pretended to read his book and tried his hardest to ignore the extremely wary and haunted gaze that stayed glued to his side for the entirety of his visit.
The third visit went much the same, except about halfway through his scheduled ‘visit’, he noticed that your eyes seemed to fall extremely heavy.
“Are you tired, sweetheart?” He murmured quietly, though you would have thought he’d screamed at you with the way you bodily flinched and your eyes snapped open.
He just continued watching you as you fought to convince your heart to return to its normal tempo, slowly, cautiously nodding your head yes to his question when you seemed to realize he was earnest in his question.
“Would you like me to leave so you can get some rest?”
Your brows furrowed ever so subtly, eyes darting across his face as you searched for any hidden meaning or potential threat.
You must not have found one.
“Please.” You whispered, and - though it was still but a whisper - it was the first time he had heard your voice since the Quarter Quell that wasn’t shrieking and sobbing in fear, causing a lump to form in his throat.
“Okay, honey, I’ll go.” He whispered back, smiling at you through tears as he stood and swiftly left the room, hardly closing the door fully behind him before he let out a sob.
Over the weeks, you began finding your own routine and schedule outside of the time you spent working with doctors and medics. You were hardly ever seen without your journal on your person, and one of your doctors explained to Finnick that you were beginning to compile notes to differentiate between things you knew, things that you didn’t know, and what was real or not real. Many times, Finnick could find you working in your journal when he arrived, and though you still managed to keep a concerned eye on him at any given point and your body never fully relaxed while he was there, he was grateful you were becoming more or less accustomed to his company.
And then one day he showed up to your room to find one wall completely transformed into a giant drawing board. The board was divided into two equal sides; one side was labelled REAL and one side was labelled NOT REAL. The only thing that had been written down so far was on the NOT REAL side, which read “Finnick did not set you up and leave you there to die.”
“She’s been struggling to sleep without the aid of sedatives; she wakes up quite violently from nightmares, struggling to differentiate between what is real and what is not, even when we’re standing right there in front of her.” One of the medics told him. “We tried once to have her look through her journal, but she threw it across the room and told us to get away from her. We thought maybe having a very large visualization in front of her in her own writing would be helpful to tether her to reality upon waking.”
And that seemed all well in good, but Finnick found himself sick over some of the things the Capitol had convinced you he was guilty of more than once.
But, if this is what you needed, if this was helping you, Finnick would stomach it, no questions asked.
So, Finnick drummed his fingers against the paperback book that he brought with him to your hospital room every day which acted as nothing more than a glorified prop.
He knocked twice gently on your door before stepping inside, watching as you stepped quickly away from the board and hid the marker and eraser behind your back as if you’d been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to, watching Finnick as though you were waiting for him to attack.
“Hi, honey.” He greeted quietly, nodding politely at you before he pulled out his chair and took his place, flipping his book open to an arbitrary page as he pretended to read.
You didn’t move; your feet seemed to be glued to the spot as you watched Finnick pretend to not be watching you. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that he had missed your gaze, quite selfishly, and found that while the atmosphere wasn’t exactly relaxed, he was happy enough just to have your eyes on him again.
Finnick wasn’t sure how much time had passed before you ended up breaking the silence.
“F…Finnick?” You asked, barely above a whisper; question so quiet that Finnick was sure if he hadn’t only been pretending to read, he would have missed it entirely.
You sounded as though you were trying his name out for size, just to see how it felt on your tongue. Finnick missed the days when you used to squeal his name in laughter, or groan his name in frustration, or call his name in excitement. But even though it came out cautious and stilted, he didn’t think he’d ever heard as pretty a sound as the sound of his name falling from your lips.
“Yes, sweetheart?” He asked eagerly, fighting to keep his tone, face, and body language calm as he saved his ‘place’ with a finger and leaned forward in his chair, resting his knees on his elbows.
You swallowed thickly and fiddled with the marker in your hands as you stole yourself to speak. “Can I ask you something?”
He wanted to be an ass; he wanted to say ‘you just asked me two things’, he wanted to whoop and holler at finally having an actual conversation with you after weeks of finally having you back, yet not really having you back at all.
Instead, all he said was “of course.”
You cleared your throat before gaining the courage to ask what he heard as “you love me; real, or not real?”
Finnick wasn’t sure an answer had ever come to him so fast. “Real.”
You seemed somewhat surprised by his answer even though it was clearly the answer you’d been expecting. After a few moments, you simply nodded at him before turning back to your drawing board’s REAL side.
Finnick loved me you wrote, adding bullet points underneath it...
He told me so
He acts like it
Gut feeling
...is what you cited as proof to this revelation. Finnick wanted to weep. A gut feeling; you were still in there, somewhere. There was still a version of you that knew deep down that Finnick loved you.
“It’s not quite right, honey.” He offered softly, fighting the urge to smile when you turned at his interruption, yet didn’t flinch at the sound of his voice as you often did. You simply looked at him in confusion.
“Do you mind if I make a minor adjustment?” He asked as he carefully placed his book on your empty bed and slowly stood, holding his hands out in ask.
You looked between him and the marker and eraser in your hands before holding them out for him; an invitation.
Finnick smiled at you as he slowly walked towards you, hyper focused on remaining as unthreatening as possible as he gently took the items from you, careful not to touch you unnecessarily.
He moved to the REAL side of the board, using the edge of the eraser to remove the d from the end of loved and replacing it with an s. The sentence now - properly - read Finnick loves me.
“There, now it’s perfect.” He offered you with another smile as he held the items back out to you, gently placing them in your hands when you held them open for him before he turned back towards his chair, retrieved his book, and sat back down.
Your eyes stayed glued on the correction he made to your board as the marker and eraser hovered uselessly midair; moments dragging on before your arms finally lowered to your sides.
Finnick didn’t bother pretending to read, so when you turned to look at him - face full of confusion, curiosity, concern, and what looked to be devastation - you found him already looking at you.
“Still?” You asked, voice cracking painfully as a heavy tear fell down your face.
And if Finnick thought that no answer had ever come faster to him before, he was sorely mistaken.
Hi! Could you please do another lester x reader? Doesn’t matter what it’s about. There’s barely anything on this app😭😭
one penny is enough .｡*
— apollo x fem!reader
warnings: none
a/n: Hello, I have your back. Thanks for stopping by. Mwuah 💕
— Make a wish! — You gave those little hops with the tips of your toes and shook your boyfriend's shoulders.
— A wish? — Apollo said, fixing his gaze on that fountain. In the middle was a stone basin where the coins piled up with the others, he assumed that was the target to aim for.— Which god rules over this sort of thing?
You let out a groan and shook him impatiently.
—Lester! — He smiled hearing one of his names come out of your mouth. He turned fully to you and held you by the waist, his other hand traveled from your shoulder to the palm of your hand where you held the penny.
—I do it with...— He tossed the coin and heard the splash of water. He had hit the mark. — ...eyes closed, see?
Unlike what he expected, you frowned and gave him a gentle push with your body.
— You were supposed to wish for something, silly.— You pouted, watching your only shot settle with the other coins.
He held your body tighter and made you look into his eyes, his blue eyes like the sky above you.
— What else could I wish for when I already have you? — He smiled with a look full of love and gently bumped noses with you. You bit your lip and gently squeezed the fabric of his shirt.
— Liar, you forgot to ask for something.
He laughed and kissed you sweetly. He migrated his lips to your red cheeks to press another small kiss.
— I'm serious, what else could I ask for?
You pursed your lips and hummed as if thinking.
— I wanted to win the lottery.
Apollo brought his hand to his chest pretending to be offended.
— I can give you all the riches you want! — He extended his hand and conjured up a gold ingot. You wrinkled your nose.
— No, in cash.
And he turned the gold ingot into bills.
— With a little extra change.
And the sound of coins falling from his palm rang out instantly. Whatever you wanted, however you wanted it, he would give it to you.
You smiled triumphantly and took just one coin. Just what you wanted. Apollo realized you had used him.
— You could have just asked for one!
— And where's the fun in that? — You admired the gleam of the metal, pretending to ignore your boyfriend.
— I should have known! — He made the entire fortune disappear and crossed his arms.
You chuckled and handed him the coin again.
—Make a wish.
The blond looked at you tenderly. He had wasted your only shot and you were extending the coin to him again. He felt like he didn't deserve you.
He took a breath, closed his eyes, and then tossed it. Again he hit the mark.
are you still taking requests? if so, can you do something about Apollo? anything really
☛ mortal!f!reader is captured by the greeks and they experience the wrath of apollo
☛ sfw; tw: violence, threats of sa, disease; takes place in the iliad so i guess this is officially iliad fanfiction in which not chryseis gets kidnapped as a bride prize but you, apollo's mortal lover; i really like writing morally ambigous apollo for some reason
The rope burned into your wrist as you tried to budge but it was to no avail. Agamemnon's squire, a young man who had been tasked with binding you to the pole, had done a good job at it. Only stubbornness had you still tugging on your bindings. But when you felt blood trickle down your wrists, you halted your movement and opted to look around the tent instead.
It had several rooms, full of treasures he had stolen from your people. A home fit for a king, or as close as possible in these circumstances. The duvet was decked with expensive blankets and golden trinkets covered the floor. With a sigh, you let your head fall against the pole and closed your eyes, letting out a long sigh.
You had lost track of time, but it couldn't have been half a day since you had been captured. Just this morning you had woken up to the chatter and street noises of your home of Lyrnessus. You had pulled back the curtains and relished in the warmth of the sun on your face, quite like a good morning kiss from your lover. Until the Greeks had sacked the city. In an attempt to hide, you had flown down to the cellar and hid in a barrel, but Agamemnons soldiers had found you and abducted you to their camp where they had chained you down in their leaders tent.
Was it evening now? The air was cooler than before, but you couldn't see. Was that the crackling of bondfires? You pulled your legs to your chest and tried to get comfortable. If you were to flee or fight anyone, you would need your rest. But it was hard, when worry and sadness about the fate of your city and people threatened to overwhelm you, fueled by fear and anxiety about your position.
Last night, you had slept in a bed, clean, soft and with your lover by your side. The thought of Apollo gave you a little hope. He wouldn't let anyone touch you, right? That's what he had promised a few nights ago, when the air was humid and your face rested against his warm chest, blankets discarded because it was too hot, skin on skin, nothing between you two.
Your thoughts had carried you away, and of course he had taken notice and lifted your chin to meet your eyes. "Tell me," was all he had said, and you had only shaken your head and leaned your temple on his bicep, looking up into his golden eyes. And the moment you had, you and him had both known what was going on in each others head. It just happened.
"Don't worry," he had said, running a hand through your damp hair. "I wont let anything happen to you." You had nodded, though not wholly convinced, and angled your head upwards to kiss him, but he had hushed your attempts by tapping your lips with his index finger. "I mean it. If any of them lay their hands on you, I will wipe them off the face of this earth."
It had been weird. His voice had been so soothing, yet their meaning was so utterly destructive. "I'm scared," you had confessed. You had tried to deny it for a long time, reminding yourself of his love, but this was a war, and war wasn't kind to anyone- especially not to women. "Lyrnessus will be next, won't it?" It wasn't kind to homes either.
"I don't know," he had admitted. His eyes had taken on a darker shade of gold, his voice a grave tone. "But no matter what, I will always protect you, alright?"
"alright," you had answered, and he had leaned down to return your kiss. In order to calm yourself, you tried to remember the way he tasted, like honey, so sweet and warm. How he held you, tried to imagine his warm arms around you, not the pole digging into your back. and for a moment, you managed to find comfort, just from the thought of him, sitting in a cruel king's tent, hunched over and scared.
Until the covers of the entrance were pulled back and you came face to face with the commander in chief of the greeks, the king of Mycenae. You had expected more. Sure, he was of an imposing figure, but with all the stories you had heard, he was still just a man. You didn't know wether that was good thing when you saw his eyes trail over your body and his tongue wet his lips.
"Get me wine," he told his squire, eyes not leaving you as he stepped further into the room and sat down on the duvet to take off his armor. Now he was truly just a man. You opted to avoid looking at him, instead fixing your eyes onto one of the vases full of valuables. The squire hurried inside again and filled a cup with wine for his king.
"You must be uncomfortable, sitting on the ground," Agamemnon said to you, but it was not in a caring way. There was a mean and guileful tone to his voice.
"I'm not," you answered, trying to steady your voice. You couldn't show fear. You had the distinct notion that he would take great enjoyment in your terror. Never before had you wished so much for a coat, something to cover your cleavage with, because the way he was ogling it made chills run down your spine.
He laughed, and it was a raw, condescending laugh. "Hm, you're comfortable, huh? Wonder for how long, once I have my way with you." You prayed that the effect of his words wasn't visible on your face. A long sigh left his lips as he poured himself another cup of wine. "Look at me, girl."
You didn't and he chucked his cup onto the floor next to you. Both you and the obviously anxious squire of his flinched as the red liquid drenched your dress. Agamemnon laughed about your squirming attempts to get away from the puddle and his eyes devoured the sight of your wet, now see-through skirt. "You won't be playing tough much longer, girl," he mocked you and stood up to stand before you. "What, you got a lover you want to stay pure for? Should I send you back to him once I am thoroughly done with you?"
"He will make you pay," you said and finally met his eye, determinded to keep your gaze steady and firm. The situation was overwhelming and you hated how your lower lip started to tremble. "Everything you do to me, he will inflict on you tenfold."
Another laugh, and he kneeled down to your level. The proximity made you anxious, but you continued to stare him down without showing fear. "I don't see him anywhere," Agamemnon mocked and again, his tongue wet his lips, dry from the sand on from a thirst you could read in his eyes. "Is he a Trojan warrior? He will be dead soon, how will a corpse avenge you? Maybe I'll kill him myself."
"You can never kill him," you breathed. "And he will come for me."
"You think he'll still want you after everything I'm going to do to you?" the man sneered. He was so close you could smell the wine in his breath and you averted your face. "Ya' think that will do the trick?" he grinned and grabbed your chin to violently turn your face towards him.
Just then, the covers of the entrance were pulled back once more and an out of breath greek soldier, one of Agamemnon's Mycenaean warriors, if you were guessing right, stood in the entrance. "What do you think you're doing, soldier?" Agamemnon snarled at him, and the man babbled under his breath, asking for forgiveness.
"What do you want?" Agamemnon said in annoyance, already turning back to you again and still nearly crushing your jaw with his tight grip.
"Sir," he panted and held his side. "The fleet- we are under attack, I think, I don't know, but our men are dropping like flies and we don't know what is going on, several ships of soldiers have already been anihilated! It is a sickness, and it's spreading fast!"
"What?!" Agamemnon roared, jumping to his feet. His face was red with wine and anger. "Go ask Calchas, this must be a god's doing!"
As the soldier stormed out, you laughed breathlessly, laughed about yor captor's anger and confusion. Enraged, he turned to you and you gave him a mocking grin. You were about to open your mouth to ridicule him and his situation when he stormed over and grabbed a fistful of your hair, painfully tugging it so you were forced to look at him. "You little minx, you! You won't be laughing for much longer!"
WHACK!
Both you and Agamemnon jolted away when something hit the ground between your attacker's feet. When you looked down, a new sense of hope and courage flooded through you and your muscles relaxed. Agamemnon, however, shot up and let out a panicked gasp. It was a golden arrow, and you knew who the archer was.
Agamemnon wasn't stupid, and he knew what this meant. He turned around to his terrified squire who was staring at the arrow with widened eyes. "Untie her and get her to Calchas, now! And someone get me another cup of wine!"
As you were dragged out by the young man who folowed his king, you saw that the greek camp was in absolute disarray. Agamemnon pushed through soldiers who were running around in panic, informing each other of the havoc that was presumably being wreaked on the ships at this moment. When they saw him, the soldiers followed their commander in chief and a massive crowd formed when you reached the seer, Calchas.
Agamemnon walked towards him and seemed to explain the situation to him as other men, who seemed to be in command as well, pushed through the crowd to stand by them. You couldn't hear what they were talking about, but they seemed to be trying to persuade the seer to tell them the cause for the sudden destructive outburst. Just when a young man seemed ready to get his answers in a violent way, Calchas raised his hand and pointed at you.
The crowd fell silent and you felt several hundred eyes on you. "It's her," the seer rasped, "She brought death to the camp with her presence." So you had been right with your assumption.
"Why? What is with this girl?" one of the men in charge pressed. There was no malice in his eyes, only worry.
Calchas eyes met yours and he gasped. His hand was shaking. "You have captured the lover of the divine god Apollo himself. She must be returned immediately, or the pest will spread even faster among the troops. The wrath of Apollo knows no limits as long as she is held in this camp." Your heart warmed with pride of being called Apollo's lover- and with satisfaction at Agamemnon's shocked expression.
Anxious whispering broke out and you felt the squire's tight grip on your arm loosen slightly. All the commanders' eyes were on you. One of them spoke up. "Alright, we should act as quickly as possible. Let's release her into no man's land, make sacrafices to Apollo to soothe him and hope for his mercy." The other's mumbled words of approval and nodded, only Agamemnon spoke up.
"No."
"What do you mean, no?" a young man said sharply. "How is this not a clear decision?"
"The girl is my bride prize, she is mine by right!" Agamemnon shot back.
The squire next to you gasped, so loud that everyone turned to him. At first, you thought he was just being jumpy again, but then you saw the golden arrow that had pierced clean through his chest. And the growing patch of red on his tunic. You could only watch in shock as his grip on your upper arm slipped away and his knees buckled under him. Before his body hit the ground, he was dead.
☀️
A short time later, one of the officers escorted you out of the camp. You had gotten the cloak and water you had asked for without any hesitation, but had refused the valuables offered to you in an attempt to soothe your lover's destructive rage. Relief filled your heart, and you didnt know how you could have ever doubted that Apollo would save you.
After you had left the last of the tents behind, you walked another few hundred steps until you were out of sight of both the camp and Troy, in the midst of no man's land. "You are one lucky girl," your escort said as a goodbye and you nodded. "Yes, i am."
He walked away, back to the camp, and you were left, waiting for Apollo. You didnt have to wait for long. He descended upon the earth in a rain of golden light. To avoid being blinded, you averted your eyes until the light dimmed. As soon as his feet met the ground, you let go of the cloak, ran towards him and threw yourself into his welcoming arms. They locked around you in an instant, fingers digging into your flesh and his face buried in your neck.
You felt him breathe in and out in a shudder and retreated, thinking he was about to cry, but when you looked into his eyes, they were filled to the brim with a chilling and utterly destructive rage. Your soft hands cupped his face and he let out another shuddering breath, as if he was trying hard to compose himself. Instinctively, you knew he was trying not to scare you, that had to be why he was averting his deadly eyes and pulled you close once more.
"I would have killed all of them, burned down every. single. ship. If it were in my power, I would have striken down Agamemnon and dragged him down to Tartarus myself, so he couldn't even escape his torture in death." His hands loosened their almost bruising hold on you and his voice softened. "Forgive me, my love. I didn't mean to scare you."
"Oh, I wouldn't mind," you smiled shyly. Retreating a few inches, you looked up at him and placed your hand on his marble cheek. He leaned into your touch and kissed your temple and you smiled. "The last part, I mean."
"I'm sorry I can't do that right now," he said, lifting you up into his arms and holding you as if you were as fragile as glass. "but I may have something even better. Let's go home."
Your heart dropped at the mention. Blinking away the tears in your eyes, you looked up at the stars. "I don't have a home anymore," you said, whispering it for some reason. Maybe because you didn't want to know it yourself. "My city is destroyed, my house is burned down, I have nowhere to go."
"You have," he said and golden rays engulfed you, the same ones that had announced his arrival from Olympus. As you realized what he was planning to do, you looked at him in disbelief, and he smiled at you. "I meant my home. Our home. If you want to." The rays of gold around you axcellerated their speed and the only thing you could see was the face you loved most, drowned in a golden hue. He was going to take you to Olympus. Your new home.
"Yes," you breathed and smiled at him. You would be willing to go everywhere with him right now. Your hand found his and he held you tight to his body as his feet lifted off the ground. "Let's go home."
You couldn't stand him. Not after what he’d done. But, inside the games, he was the only thing you had to hold on to.
PAIRING | squid game!ex-boyfriend!myung-gi x player!reader
GENRE | enemies to lovers, romance, angst
AUTHOR’S NOTES | i’m taking squid game requests, so if you have any requests/suggestions, send an ask/comment! i’ll also tag whoever would like to be tagged in them! also, request for this fic was made by @vinaluvsu ! enjoy!
If looks could kill, 100 billion won would have been added to the bank hanging from the room you were currently standing in. Your gaze was set on the back of Player 333’s head as you watched him at the voting stand, his hand hovering over the two buttons. Red and blue. Myung-gi had always been stupid, the current red patch on his clothing proved so. You wondered how stupid he would be now.
You hear the click of the button from your spot next to the bunk beds, quickly raising your gaze to the screen on the wall. The number of X’s rises by one as you look back and watch Myung-gi reach for his new badge.
Maybe he isn’t as stupid as he seemed.
You, however, still couldn’t believe it. Not only could you believe the situation you were in, but you also couldn’t believe that here, in this room, is where you would find Myung-gi again. The same Myung-gi that had left you 6 months ago without warning. You thought he may have had something to do with his investment failures as a cryptocurrency trader a couple months before. He owed a lot of people a lot of money, and you were not oblivious to the fact.
However, after supporting for the weeks following the investments failures, he left your shared apartment one day, only to never come back. You had called, texted, and reached out more times than you could count the days, weeks, and months following his disappearance. You never found out what had led to him to disappear for one day to another. Not until you found yourself stuck in the room you were currently standing in.
On the first day you had arrived, along with everyone else, you also had a lot of questions of why you were in the room you were in. You remember how the room broke out into loud voices. You were too confused to make sense of any of it. That was until you watched the screen fill with videos of those who were also in the room. You watched Myung-gi’s face pop out on the video, and how his scam and money loss was the reason he had been invited to join the game. From that moment, all you could feel was rage. He hadn’t been killed due to his scam like you may have believed at one point.
He had just decided to leave you.
You’d be lying if you didn’t admit that it felt good to witness Myung-gi’s face filled with fear while watching Thanos and Nam-gyu confront him after the first game. You remember how after being thrown around for a bit before Player 001 interfered, he had gotten up and dusted himself off, still shaken from the ordeal. That’s when he first noticed you in the room. But, your gaze didn’t shake from the expression it had been holding. A gaze full of hate. You were glad he had been pushed around a bit. It’s the least he deserved. You think your gaze spoke enough words that day too, as he didn’t try to approach you either.
You’re brought back to reality when you hear Player 001 called to cast his vote. His body leans forward as he presses into his choice. Red. You quickly raise your gaze again to the screen.
Fuck. You think to yourself. Still not enough to get out of this damn place.
You don’t move from your spot, watching as your teammates come back to the bunks once the voting ends. You owed your life to them after they had helped you in the last game, the 6-legged pentathlon, but, right now, all you left was like it hadn’t mattered anyways. It seemed like you would never get out.
You sit with your team for the rest of the evening, telling stories about your lives. Gi-hun, that was the name of the man who had played the games before. The rest of the group went on with saying their names, and you felt internally grateful that you had found a group that was as connected as the one you were in now.
Before the lights could be turned off for the night, you excuse yourself to the restrooms, passing Myung-gi on the way. It seemed like he wanted to stop you on your way out of the room, but he pushed his body back onto his bed after a second of trying. You simply kept walking, you didn’t feel like wasting your breath with him anyways.
Your trip to the bathroom consisted of you splashing your face with the cold water running out the faucet. You look at your reflection in the mirror, wondering if Myung-gi could notice how much stress he had caused after his disappearance on your person. For lack of better words, you looked tired. You try not to get too lost in your thoughts, thoughts you had already cycled through a million times. Myung-gi left, and even though he was now here, in the same place as you, he was gone. He had been gone a long time ago.
Making your way back to the beds, you try not to get too lost in thought, completely becoming unaware of your surroundings. So, you don’t notice the figure approaching you until you feel a grip on your upper arm. The place you were in wasn’t a place for slow reactions, so as quick as you felt the touch to your arm, you just as quickly moved your body to face the person grabbing you, slamming your forearm right onto Myung-gi’s neck.
Myung-gi, on the other hand, wasn’t sure what he expected. Seeing you here was the last thing he expected to happen after he woke up in a green jumpsuit along with another 435 people. But now, you’re here and only inches away from him with your arm pressed harshly into his neck. Myung-gi’s stare matches yours at that moment. He noticed how your stare remained cold from the moment you had reacted to his touch, but he also noticed the crease that had popped up on your forehead when you realized it was him, the crease he knew showed up when you were annoyed.
And, he’s not happy about it. He shoves you off of him, and you take a step back realizing who the person who had touched you had been.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, earning an immediate scoff from you.
Straightening your sleeve, you answer sternly, “I could ask you the same thing.”
“I’d thought maybe you'd be happy to see me,” Myung-gi states clearly. You find it unbelievable.
“Well,” you start, letting out a breath, “I don’t know where you’d even get that idea from.”
Myung-gi doesn’t seem to know what to do next. He crosses his arms, thinking about why you would be here. He figures you know why he’s here, you’d see it on the screen on the wall yourself.
“So, what? You’re in here for money?”
“Of course I am Myung-gi, you’d know that if you weren’t such a prick.”
Myung-gi blinks hard at your name-calling, taken back. “Well, I’m sorry I was such a shitty boyfriend.”
“Me too.”
You don’t say anything else, pushing past him to make your way back to your group. He wasn’t someone who you needed in your life anymore. Still, the interaction hurt. You’d made up millions of scenarios in your mind about seeing him again. You thought he’d run up to you, pull you in, apologize, and explain why he had left you in the dark. But, that’s not what happened. You don’t care for it anyways.
You try not to think too much about your interaction with Myung-gi as you fall asleep. The next day comes quick, even though there wasn’t much to do to begin with. However, when you know your life's on the line every second you are in this place, the possibility of death comes by as fast as you'd expect. Having nowhere else to go, you lounge around the main room all day with your same teammates, waiting for the next game. When you hear that female voice come from the speakers, you feel goosebumps form on your skin. You didn’t want to have to fight for your life, but you had no other choice at this point.
Mingle. It reminded you of carousel rides you used to take when you were younger. Except, you had never felt so much anxiety on a carousel ride as children’s music played. You had been running around the entire game, pulled by whichever person on your now formed alliance team managed to pull you first. You’ve already made it this far, but as the rounds passed, the amount of blood on the floor also increased. You had slipped on it on the way out of one of the rooms, your clothes now somewhat covered in blood. Dae-ho had been the one to pick you up, giving you a reassuring smile that you would be okay. Although you were grateful for his attempt to comfort you, you were too frazzled by everything happening to give anything other than a small smile of acknowledgement in return. He had seen the way you smile had twitched, but he didn’t push you further. He understood.
You sat in one of the rooms with Young-il, Gi-hun, and Jung-bae. The four of you wait for the main room to be cleared of dead bodies, sitting in silence before Young-il begins to speak.
“Who was that boy you were talking to yesterday?”
You know the question is for you. Truth be told, after every round that had passed, you scanned the room to find Myung-gi. You hated him, that’s what you told yourself. But, that didn’t mean you wanted to see him dead.
“He’s someone I know from the outside.”
Young-il hums in acknowledgment. He knows you're bluffing. The other two men in the room know that as well.
Jung-bae turns his head towards you, “He’s been looking for every round, you know? That’s what you've been doing too.”
You don’t move. “Look at you,” you tease, whistling afterwards before continuing, “sir.” You raise your hand up to your forehead, mocking a salute. The men in the room laugh quietly at your behavior.
And although you were trying to make a light-hearted moment out of the situation, you wondered if what Young-bae said was true.
Has Myung-gi really been looking for you?
The spinning, the music, all these people around you. It was all too much. Your eyes keep and keep darting in every direction in every round so far. You’re tired. You’re worried. You’re scared. You don’t feel the platform when it stops spinning. You don’t realize when the music cuts out to announce the round’s number, and you don’t react when everyone around you starts darting in all directions.
30…
You almost lose your footing when you feel a tug at your upper arm. Looking to your right, you see Gi-hun pulling you towards him. 2. You snap yourself back to reality as he pulls you harshly, trying to match up with the pace he is running. But just as quickly as you had tried to pull yourself together, you find yourself running into another player and falling straight to the floor.
25…
It all happened too quickly, and you’re not sure who you had run into, and where Gi-hun had gone. There’s blood on your hands from following on the floor, and Gi-hun isn’t holding on to you anymore. You pick yourself up and, in a haste, look around for him.
20…
You can’t hear much over the desperate cries of those around you, begging for a partner to complete the required number. You dart your eyes in every direction. You finally see Gi-hun who’s yelling for you, but it’s too late. You watch as he is forcefully pulled into one of the rooms by another player.
15…
Your heart sinks to your stomach. Looking around again, you tell yourself that it’s best you found a room now before it's too late. You run towards a room you see hasn’t been occupied yet, and you hope you’ll eventually manage to find someone to pull into the room with you.
10…
Running in that direction, you see another player, a girl on the floor. You watch how she can barely pick herself up from how much she had been trampled on. Watching as others step on her and run over her body, you run towards her, picking her up from the floor. You can’t just let her die.
9…
At this point, you’re dragging her body in the direction of the room. You’re begging her to walk, to try and stand on her own, but she’s too weak to keep going.
8…
Maybe this is how you’ll die, playing hero.
7…
What if no one ever finds your body?
6…
There’s still so much you haven't done with your life.
5…
Is this how it ends?
4…
Will you ever get to tell Myung-gi the truth?
Your thoughts and your desperate attempt to drag the girl hanging from your body are interrupted when you feel someone pull your body. You lose your balance, and taken back from the surprising attack, you also lose your grip on the young girl, dropping her onto the floor. You try to reach for her again, but the yanking on your arm is too forceful as whoever grabbed you pulls you away.
“No!” You yell, reaching for the girl’s hand as she has it extend towards you.
A second more passes before you’re thrown inside one of the rooms, hearing the door click, and the decision you didn’t make being solidified. You don’t even look at whoever it had been who had pulled you against your will. Instead, you rush to look out the cut out rectangle on the room’s door, looking in the direction the girl that was once attached to you had fallen. You see her on the floor where you had left her. It was too late for her.
You watch as her eyes shift to make eye contact with you.
“Unnie,” she sees, her hand reaching out for you one last time, “please.”
You think about how you could save her, unrealistic ideas forming in your head. But as quick as your thoughts came, a gunshot rings in your ears, and you watch the girl’s hand fall back onto the floor.
You struggle to take your eyes off of her. She’s gone, and you couldn’t save her. You feel the guilt take over your body. Maybe if you would have been faster or stronger, maybe even smarter, you would have found a way to avoid her death.
You hear your name being called from behind you. It’s the only thing that brings you back to reality. For a second, you think maybe it was Young-il or Dae-ho who had ended up grabbing you. But, you knew that voice anywhere. Turning around, slowly, you look to see Myung-gi standing behind you.
He has a look on his face that you can’t seem to make out. His eyes seem to soften when he looks at you. Maybe he senses the guilt you’re feeling, but you don’t want to believe that. He had pulled you in to save his own life at the cost of someone else’s, that’s what you wanted to believe. You didn’t want to make him a hero.
You take a step forward and shove him away from you. He tries to grab your hands, but you keep pushing at his chest, trying to get him as far away from you as you can. “You didn’t have to help me! I had that handled!”
“Handled?” He exclaims. “You call that handled? You were going to die!”
You face twists in disgust. He’s not a good person, and you're not about to make him one either.
“No,” you scream, shaking your head, pointing towards the door, “I could've saved her. This is your fault.”
Myung-gi matches the volume of your voice, grabbing your shoulders, “You would've died, along with everyone else that’s out there!”
“That wasn’t your decision to make!”
Myung-gi’s eyes wide, like an attempt for you to try and understand where he was coming from. “Come on, Y/N! I just saved your life!”
You shake your head, your eyebrows curving into one another. “No, you didn’t save me. You killed her.”
You don’t know what to say to him anymore, and you don’t have energy to either. Maybe you could say something about how he broke your heart the day he left and never came back. How he made you feel when he left and never told you why, and how it made you feel like you were so unworthy of an explanation. You stand there, hoping maybe he’ll say something instead. But, all Myung-gi does is stand there, looking at you with challenging eyes.
If he was waiting for a thank you, he was going to have to wait a lifetime. You take a few steps back until you feel your back hit one of the walls surrounding you. Letting your body fall to the floor, you don’t know what to do anymore except wait for the bodies outside the door to be taken away so that you could finally leave this stupid game.
Myung-gi does the same, letting his body fall to the floor, taking a seat as far away from you as he could. The two of you were only a few feet away from one another, but even in the months he had been gone, this is the farther he had ever felt from you.
Rushing back to the main room, you hear Myung-gi trying to catch up to you. He’s calling out your name, but you don’t want to talk. A part of you is grateful, he saved your life. You knew, deep down, that you would have never made it into the room if you had kept dragging that poor girl into the room with you. But, how could you be thankful to Myung-gi for saving you? After he had left you, and disappeared, how could he come back into your life and play hero?
Your anger had only grown in the time you and Myung-gi had been sitting in the small mingle room waiting for those who had survived to be released from the game. You’re thinking about everything you should’ve said to Myung-gi while you still had the chance, but your thoughts are interrupted when you feel him grab your arm once more.
You yank your hand, and hard, knowing no one would be the one grabbing your arm besides him. Myung-gi sees the wrinkle in your forehead form once more, the same wrinkle that had formed a million times while the two of you had been together, and the same wrinkle that had sent him over the edge during your first interaction a day earlier. Except, this time, he doesn’t get angry. You see the way his expression grows gentle, but you’re too fired up to care. Your emotions have been bubbling up for months at this point, and you don’t care to even give him a second to catch his breath after both of you almost lost your lives. Now’s your chance to say everything you never got to say.
“You,” you say, pointing your finger straight into his chest, “think you can just disappear? Just like that, in the way you did, and now that you find me here, you get to be my hero?”
Myung-gi reaches for your hand, the one that’s still close to his chest, but you slap it away. “Don’t touch me!”
“Y/N, I know you’re angry, but it’s so much more complicat-”
“Oh, I’m sure it was,” you interrupt, not caring enough to let him finish. “So complicated you didn’t care to tell me or explain anything.”
“I didn’t have a choice! Just let me explain, okay? Maybe if you just heard me out you wouldn’t be so emotional about all this!” Myung-gi cringes at his words.
God. He thinks. I shouldn’t have said that.
“Emotional?” You question. “That’s fucking rich,” you snarl. “Coming from you.”
By this point, a crowd had gathered, but neither of you seemed to notice.
You take a step forward, giving Myung-gi a look he couldn’t register. Your gaze was cold and unmoving. “You’re the one who left, without a word. You left me,” you point to yourself, and Myung-gi can see tears start forming in your eyes, “to deal with everything alone. And, now you’re here, trying to save the day.”
“But all you are”, you say, emphasizing each word, “is a fucking coward.”
Myung-gi feels his fists clench on his sides, his eyes locking onto yours. “You don’t know anything.”
You don’t break eye contact as you respond, “I don’t want to. Just stay out of my way.”
You make your way back to your group, leaving Myung-gi standing alone. He doesn’t know what to do or say. But he is thinking one thing. That you were right. That’s what he was thinking. He should’ve just told you the truth, instead of running away like a coward.
Myung-gi looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, gripping the edges to the sink.
Get it together, Myung-gi. Get it together.
In his attempt to bring you back to him, he had only managed to make things worse. But he had tried to save your life, so why couldn’t you just be grateful at the very least?
The bathroom’s main door creaks open as Thanos walks in with Nam-gyu. Myungi-gi, too riled up because of his problems with you, attempts to make his way out the bathroom, only to stop when he notices Thanos messing with Min-su.
Realizing that Thanos was attempting to threaten Min-su because of his choice to change his vote from O to X, Myung-gi finds it in himself to yell out to the rest of the men in the room, attempting to alert them of what Thanos was doing. The men huddle into the center of the restroom, and Thanos, unhappy with the situation, decides to confront Myung-gi.
“MG Coin,” Thanos starts, “Have you lost your mind?” Thanos waves his hand in front of Myung-gi's face in an attempt to irk him, something he had been committed to do the entire time they had been there.
But Myung-gi stands his ground, not wanting to let Thanos get to him. Your words are ringing in his mind. Coward. That’s all Myung-gi hears in his head at this moment. He had to prove to himself, and you, that he wasn’t going to be a coward anymore.
Thanos, realizing that Myung-gi wasn’t going to falter, decides to try and provoke Myung-gi further, “It’s because of that girl, isn’t it?
“That bitch from earlier?” Nam-gyu adds. “It looked like they were a thing, remember?”
Thanos smirks once he sees the way Myung-gi faces shifts at the mention of you. Myung-gi tries to keep himself as calm as he can, but he’d be damned if you were dragged into his problems. He had already done that to you once.
Nam-gyu continues, enjoying adding more fuel to the fire, “I like her. Maybe, we can-”
“Leave her alone, you bastards,” Myung-gi interrupts, stepping forward and pissed at the idea of them doing anything to you.
Thanos remains unfazed. “You’re getting all worked up. Something is definitely going on there.”
“MG Coin,” Thano repeats again, taking a step forward, “If you press X again tomorrow, I’ll cut off your finger, give it to her, and ask her out. And she’ll love it.”
Myung-gi can feel the anger bubbling up inside him. He blinks, registering what Thanos just said to him. He could take Thanos pushing him around, but he wouldn’t let Thanos do anything to you.
Without thinking, Myung-gi’s body reacts, tightening his right hand into a fist and launching himself in Thano’s direction. The silence that had fallen in the room was interrupted by the sound of Myung-gi’s fist coming into contact with Thano’s jaw, before the room that was divided by Team O and Team X began to launch themselves at one another.
Before Thanos can compose himself again, Myung-gi wastes no time to launch himself again at the purple-haired man, driven by the thought of you. If this was the way to protect you from Thanos and his friend, he wasn’t going to hesitate another second in dealing with Thanos.
They wrestle until Thanos manages to pin Myung-gi onto the ground, throwing punches at Myung-gi’s face.
“Your money, your girl, your life, they’re all mine!”
Thanos grips Myung-gi’s throat. Myung-gi tries to fight him off, but Thano’s pupils are dilated. He’s high, and there’s nothing he won’t do.
Myung-gi tries gasping for air, clawing at Thano’s grasp. His vision darkens and darkens as the seconds go by. Maybe this is how he’ll die, on a bathroom floor, in the middle nowhere, where no one will ever find his body, and with you never knowing the truth. He’ll die with you hating him.
Y/N.
He sees you in a flash. The day before he disappeared, how you laid next to him your shared room. How you opened your eyes and looked at him with stars in your eyes. How he reached over to touch your soft skin. How you smiled at him. How you pushed the hair out of his eyes. He remembers how his heart fluttered when you pressed the warmth of your body against his. He remembers the guilt he felt when he left you that next day, knowing he wouldn't be back for a while.
Then, he sees your angry face. The fire in your eyes every time you've looked at him since the two of you have been here. How when he saw you, he thought maybe he'd have the courage to tell you the truth, but, instead, his emotions got the best of him. But, you need to know the truth. God, he can’t die with you hating him.
Feeling for the fork in his pocket, he manages to use the last of his strength to lunge at Thanos’ throat. Blood spews onto Myung-gi’s face, and he doesn’t know how to react, frozen from the site in front of him. It isn’t until he feels Thano’s grip loosening that he manages to break free. Gasping for air, Myung-gi manages to drag himself into a stall, his vision finally clearing.
He leans against the stall door, trying to steady his breathing. His mind's racing, filled with the thought of you.
The room falls into a tense, frightening silence as the fighting starts to reach an end. Myung-gi can hear the sounds of others, the murmur of conversations, the sounds of those dying as they struggle with their last breaths. Yet, he can’t focus on anything except getting back to you. He needs to find you and make sure you’re okay.
Myung-gi pushes himself up, his body aching from the fight. He steps out of the stall, catching his reflection in the mirror. He’s bruised and covered in blood.
Still, with determination, he exits the bathroom. His steps are unsteady, but he continues to make his way through all the corridors, heading back to the main room. He manages to catch up to some others on team X, taking a deep breath as they all approach the door. He can’t face the rest of what's to come alone, and he can't let you face it alone either.
You sat still as you watched the argument that was breaking out in front of you. One moment you were sitting with the group, making jokes as you all tried to entertain one another. The next, the group of men that had gone into the bathroom minutes ago come back angry at one another. Angry and bloody. You listen as they tell one another, blaming each other for starting the fight.
You began to worry about what this means. If killing one another also counts as a player losing, then no one was safe either in or out of the games. You start to think back to mingle. You were still angry at Myung-gi, but you know you weren’t angry at him for saving your life. How could you be?
That’s when you remembered that Myung-gi had also gone into the bathroom, and he hadn’t come back out yet.
You stand up from the spot you're in, looking over the small crowds that had formed and scanned the room. Myung-gi isn’t in the room, and you begin to wonder if he’s dead on the bathroom floor.
Your heart drops. You feel guilt starting to eat at you. If Myung-gi’s dead, then he died thinking you hated him.
Before you can keep thinking the worst, you hear one of the only doors of the room swing open, watching how Myung-gi stumbles in, covered in the most blood than anyone else in the room. Eyes widening, you began to worry about what happened to him. Everyone in the room continues to yell at one another, but your eyes don’t pull away from Myung-gi.
You watch as his eyes scan the room, looking for something. When his eyes land on you, his body shifts to move towards you. Without a second thought, you get up in a hurry to him.
When you reach him, you help him walk towards your bed. He reiterates that he’s fine over and over again, but you’re having a hard time believing him with the state he is currently in.
“What happened?” You say, scanning his face, “Is this blood yours? Where are you hurt?”
You place your hands on both sides of his face, turning his head slightly from one side to the other in an attempt to find a source that blood could be coming from. Myung-gi doesn’t say anything, he’s too tired to. All he feels like doing at that moment leaning into the warmth of your hands, and that's exactly what he does, closing his eyes as he enjoys the comfort of being held by you.
Taken back by the sudden action, you pull your hands away. Not as quickly as you had been doing in the past couple of days, but you still didn’t feel as though the action was appropriate. But, your gaze isn’t as harsh as it had been towards him in the past few days either, and Myung-gi takes note of that.
“Baby,” Myung-gi says. He knows he’s still dazed from the fight, but he has to tell you the truth. “We need to talk.”
You don’t say anything, but your heart flutters at the pet name. Still, you find it inappropriate given the circumstances. “Don’t call me that.”
You rip off the fabric off some of your clothing and wipe at the blood on his face. Tears are forming in your eyes, and you don’t know if you're angry or hurt or too riled up at this point. Myung-gi sees you trying to hold back your tears as you wipe at his face, and he brings his hand up to grab yours. You try to pull back, but he keeps his hold on you.
“Let me help you,” you say as you attempt to pull away from his grip.
Myung-gi keeps looking at your eyes, trying to get you to look at him. “Look at me.”
You keep fighting his grip, but Myung-gi doesn’t budge. He knows you're still upset over what he did to you. You have every right to be.
“Y/N,” he says softly, “look at me, please. Stop fighting me.”
By now, all the physical and emotional strength you had was gone. You wanted to fall into Myung-gi arms. You wanted it to just go back to the way it used to be.
“I’m sorry.” Myung-gi cupped your face with his hands, looking into your eyes. “I’m sorry for leaving the way I did.”
“Why did you leave?” He can hear the quiver in your voice, and he feels his heart break even more than it already had been in the past few months. He hated himself for what he did to you.
“I had to” he says, scanning your face and seeing all the worry you had manifesting onto your features, “I had to go.”
He pulled your face in closer, wanting to make sure you heard everything he had to say, “After everything that happened, after all those investments I made, I owed a lot of people a lot of money. They started threatening me, and I couldn’t let anything happen to you because of me. So, I ran. I ran so they’d chase after me and so that you wouldn’t be in any danger because of my problems.”
You stay quiet, continuing to listen to him. “But not a day went by that I didn’t think about you or coming back home to you. I came back for you, that’s why I was in town again, but after the stupid salesman gave me the card on the subway, I thought I could get some money together so I could pay off my debt and finally come back home to you without any worries.”
A tear slid down your cheek. You didn’t know what to think.
“But,” Myung-gi added, “I never stopped thinking about you. And, I never stopped loving you, baby. I’m sorry for acting the way I have been, I just… I know I didn’t do things right. I was afraid you might have already moved on by now and that all I had was hope in something that doesn’t exist between us anymore.”
“Myung-gi,” you say, finally finding in yourself to say something, “I’m really angry with you right now.”
Myung-gi feels a lump grow in his throat. “I know.”
You take his hands off your face, and Myung-gi lets his head drop down. Maybe, he has lost you for good.
“But I never stopped loving you either.” You intertwine your hands with his, and Myung-gi lifts his head up in surprise.
A small smile forms on both of your faces. Myung-gi lifts your connected hands to his lips, kissing your hands. He scans your face, and you feel your cheeks warm up to his affection. He has a look on his face that you know too well.
A silence falls over the both of you. It was all lot to take in from both sides, but Myung-gi had missed you so much, and he just needed to take you all in. He had already lost so much time with you, he didn’t want to lose any more time ever again.
“Can I kiss you?”
You take a second to make a decision before giving him a small nod. He leans in, and you close your eyes before you feel the plushiness of his lips come into contact with yours. He grabs your waist, pulling you in, and you let your hands rest on his jaw line.
Pulling away for air, Myung-gi takes another couple of seconds to look at your face as he traced your features with his finger gently and lovingly, a gesture you had missed more than you could express.
“We’re getting out of here.” Myung-gi says as he pecks your lips. “And I will spend every day for the rest of my life making it up to you.
You nod at his words. You know that not everything is resolved between the two of you yet, but you now have the answers you had been looking for. And that was good enough for now.
Summary: You defy the rules of life and death, sparing Player 333 on the field and pulling your gun on another player in the dormitory, leaving him questioning why a guard would protect him.
Genre: angst, dark, survival
TW: death, blood, guns, fights, the games in general, not 100% accurate
A/N: let me know if you want more of that! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!
Masterlist
You stood in the sniper station high above the field, peering down through a small window as the players shuffled into position. It was your assigned post for the first game, Red Light, Green Light. From here, you had a perfect view of every player.
Your job was simple: if the doll detected movement, you would receive the player number through your earpiece. Once detected, you would pull the trigger without hesitation. That was the rule. No exceptions.
The field was eerily silent except for the nervous murmurs of the 456 contestants. Among them, your eyes caught Player 333, Myung-gi.
He looked calm but his hands were shaking, his feet barely steady beneath him. There was nothing special about him—just another face among the desperate masses. But something about the way he clung to hope, even in the face of calmness, struck a chord in you.
A beep drew out to signal the start of the game.
“Mugunghwa kkochi piotsseumnida.”
You held your breath. The field froze.
Your earpiece buzzed.
“Player 117. Movement detected.”
Your scope locked onto the target. A man in his mid-thirties stood near the back, his left foot trembling slightly as he struggled to balance.
Your gaze was sharp as you fired.
The crack of your rifle echoed across the field. The man fell instantly, a crimson stain spreading across his chest.
The song resumed, and the doll’s head swiveled back toward the trees. The remaining contestants hesitated, glancing at the fallen man, before cautiously moving forward again.
“Player 335 Movement detected.”
Another shot, another body collapsed. The doll’s sensors worked quickly, and you kept up with the pace, eliminating each target as the system flagged them.
The ground was slowly littered with bodies, some still, others leaking trails of red into the dirt.
Then came the voice of Player 456, shouting above the chaos
“Everybody, stop moving! Just freeze!”
His instructions spread like wildfire. The remaining players obeyed, standing still like statues. The field grew eerily quiet again.
You scanned the group for anyone who moved. You listened for instructions but none came.
As the game continued, your earpiece buzzed again.
“Player 333. Movement detected.”
You froze.
The scope of your rifle shifted automatically, locking onto Player 333. The young man, trembling violently, stood in the middle of the field. He had stumbled slightly, his foot dragging across the dirt. His face was pale, his lips quivering as if he was seconds from screaming.
He knew he moved.
You placed your finger on the trigger.
But something made you pause.
You were supposed to shoot.
But you didn’t.
Something inside you stopped you. Maybe it was the terror on his face or the way his chest heaved as he realized his mistake. Whatever it was, you couldn’t pull the trigger.
The doll’s scanners shifted, the moment passed, and Myung-gi froze again, acknowledging the fact to how close he had come to death.
He wasn’t the only one confused. Far below, Player 230, Thanos, watched him. His sharp eyes narrowed as he realized what had just happened: Myung-gi had moved, but he was still alive.
The game ended with a beep of the clock. The surviving players were herded back to the dormitory, their faces pale with shock. Bodies were dragged from the field, their screams and cries of mercy now replaced with an eerie silence.
The players sat or stood near the rows of towering bunk beds, their expressions a mix of fear, anger, and grief. You were stationed by the door, your rifle slung over your shoulder. The cold metal walls of the room seemed to amplify every whisper, every muffled sob.
But your focus remained on Player 333.
He sat on a lower bunk, staring at his hands. Across from him, Thanos approached, his face dark with suspicion.
“You,” Thanos exclaimed, crouching down to meet Myung-gi’s eye level. “You moved during the game. I saw it. Why aren’t you dead?”
Myung-gi blinked, startled. “What? No, I didn’t—”
“Don’t lie to me!” Thanos growled, grabbing his collar. “The guards shot everyone else. Why not you?”
“I don’t know!” Myung-gi snapped, his voice shaky. “Maybe I didn’t move as much as you think—”
Thanos slammed him against the bed frame, rattling the metal bars. “You’re lying! You’re cheating somehow!”
The commotion drew the attention of nearby players, who watched nervously but kept their distance. You descended from your position by the doors, rifle in hand, and approached them.
“Break it up,” you ordered, your voice cold and sharp through the modulator.
Thanos looked up at you, his grip still on Myung-gi. “This one’s a fraud! He’s—”
“I said, break it up.”
Your rifle shifted, the barrel pointing directly at Thanos. The gesture was subtle but enough to make him freeze. Slowly, he released Myung-gi, his hands raising in surrender.
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Thanos muttered, backing away cautiously.
Myung-gi remained pressed against the bed frame, his breathing heavy as he watched the exchange. His gaze flickered between you and Thanos, confusion evident in his expression.
Why had you intervened? Why was a guard protecting him?
You didn’t offer an explanation. Instead, you took a step closer to Thanos, your rifle still aimed at him. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
Thanos nodded quickly, retreating into the crowd of players. The tension dissolved as he disappeared, leaving you and Myung-gi alone.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, hesitantly, Myung-gi asked, “Why… why did you do that?”
You stared at him through the mask, your heart pounding. You couldn’t answer, not without revealing too much. Instead, you simply turned and walked away, your boots echoing against the cold, metal floor.
Myung-gi watched you go, still confused but alive. And that was enough for now.
