Frontman!Player 001 X Player 456!Reader - Mingling Disguise
Warning: Nothing NSFW. Only secret identity and manipulation.
Summary: During the Mingle Game, the reader is relieved to see that Player 001 made it out alive... but she doesn't know he is the one who orchestrated everything.
The screams of the players who haven't managed to lock themselves in the small rooms have died down. When the doors unlocked, you stepped out, looking for the players with whom you got close. You all finally gathered together, happy to be alive for this round. The one who you tried to gauge was Player 001.
Your eyes widened when you saw Young-il, and relief washed over you.
"You made it!" You exclaimed, and without thinking, you jumped onto him, hugging him tightly.
Player 001—Young-il—staggered slightly from the impact of your hug, stiff at first, as if unaccustomed to the touch. But then, slowly, his arms circled around you, firm yet composed, like a man who’d learned to wear his skin like armor.
“Of course I did,” he murmured against your ear, voice calm, smooth—eerily smooth for someone who had just survived a massacre.
Your body relaxed in his embrace, your heart thudding from the adrenaline still surging through you. But his didn’t race. Not even a little.
When you pulled back, his gaze met yours. That calm smile played on his lips again, unsettlingly serene.
“You really thought I wouldn’t?” he asked. His voice was light… but there was something beneath it. Something unreadable. Something off.
Still, in this hell, he’d been a source of quiet steadiness. You wanted to believe he was one of the good ones.
“You okay?” you asked, brushing a bit of blood—someone else’s—from his collar. “You weren’t hurt, right?”
Young-il looked down at the smear, then back at you. He smiled again.
“No. I’m exactly where I need to be.”
You smiled at him, looking into his onyx eyes, so unaware of the man who wore the number 001.
His eyes held yours with quiet intensity—deep, unreadable, like still water hiding a current strong enough to drag you under. And yet… you smiled.
In this place of death and panic, Young-il had become a rare comfort. Calm. Collected. Always watching, always surviving. You had no idea just how deeply he watched.
“I don’t know how you stay so calm,” you said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s like nothing gets to you.”
Young-il’s smile twitched at the corners, almost… fond. “I’ve learned there’s no point in panicking. Panic gets you killed.”
You nodded, still unaware of the truth lurking behind his measured words. His voice, so gentle, concealed a man who had orchestrated your suffering from the shadows long before you ever stepped into the game.
He reached out then, slowly, and placed a hand on your shoulder. Warm. Grounding.
“But you,” he said, eyes darkening just slightly, “you’re different from the others. You keep surviving not just because you fight. But because you feel.”
His thumb brushed faintly across your collarbone—too familiar, too intentional—but you were too overwhelmed, too grateful to notice how deliberate the touch was.
“I just hope,” he added with a murmur, “you never forget who you are… even in a place that wants to rip that away.”
He knew exactly who you were. And exactly what he was doing.
"I won't. I promise I will do my best to stop these games and save everyone. We will make it out together." You promised.
For a moment, the expression on Young-il’s face stilled—not with affection, but something far more dangerous.
Your words, your hope… your naïve conviction. It would have almost been sweet if it wasn’t so foolish.
But he leaned in, just enough that his breath ghosted across your skin. His eyes never left yours.
“You really think these games can be stopped?” he asked softly, the corner of his mouth curling in something that resembled amusement… or pity.
You nodded, fiercely.
“Yes. I don’t care what it takes—I’ll find a way.”
Young-il smiled—broad, warm, kind. A perfect mask.
“Then I’ll follow you,” he said, voice like honey. “Wherever you lead.”
But in his mind, he was already calculating. Already deciding just how close to let you get before the truth would shatter you. Because the idea of watching you break—of watching the light in your eyes dim when you discovered who he truly was—was becoming more intoxicating than he’d anticipated.
For now, he would be your ally.
Your comfort.
Your illusion.
And when the time came, he would be the one to take it all away.
*the mingle game, music and carousel stops* “FIVE!”
Who are you kicking out of your group? Also, unlike my previous poll, you’ve decide you aren’t sacrificing yourself for these specific people.
The unhinged drug addict who has been behaving erratically
The social Darwinist who doesn’t care if they get other people killed
The misogynistic/homophobic/transphobic asshole
The con artist who has ruined the lives of so many people outside the game
The known abuser who got away with terrorizing their spouse and children
Me playing Roblox xD specifically the game where that big head chases you. I don't remember its name. I quickly remembered that song so I recorded and made this. I love it 🤣
