justarithinnngs

[justarithinnngs]

Spaces (Squid Game x Player!Reader - Masterlist)

ᴡᴇ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴛᴜʀɴꜱ. ᴡɪʟʟ ᴡᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ʟᴇᴀʀɴ? ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴡᴇ ʟᴇᴀʀɴ? ᴏʜ ꜱᴘᴀᴄᴇꜱ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴜꜱ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴅᴇᴇᴘᴇʀ, ɪᴛ'ꜱ ʜᴀʀᴅᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴇᴀᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ɪ ᴛʀʏ.

i have no idea how many chapters there will be but here's a masterlist since i'm working on other projects too and that way it'll be easier to find.

-

When everything falls apart, and the weight of the world becomes too much to bear, someone would do anything to save their family—even if it means losing themselves.

Y/N is given a chance to escape the suffocating grief of her father’s illness, a way to solve all her financial problems. But when she steps into a game where the stakes are life and death, she quickly learns that trust is a dangerous thing.

Sometimes the only way out is through—and the cost of survival may just be your humanity.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

[justarithinnngs]

Spaces (Squid Game x Reader) - Chapter 5: The game.

i didn't even realize i went crazy on the last chapter, sorry about that.

Y/N felt like she was suffocating in the crowd. The pressure was immense, and despite the chillingly calm voice on the loudspeakers, there was a heavy, undeniable sense of dread in the air. Hundreds of players stood in perfect formation, all in their green tracksuits, their eyes nervously darting between the massive robotic doll and each other.

She glanced around, feeling a strange disconnect. The space they stood in felt open—like a stadium—but it was still so artificial. The ground beneath them looked like dirt, but the horizon seemed oddly confined, as though they were in some massive, oversized cage. There were no visible exits. No obvious way out.

Y/N’s stomach twisted, but she swallowed the rising panic. Focus. Stay calm.

The loudspeaker crackled to life again, its cold, mechanical voice filling the air.

“Welcome to the first round of the games,” the voice announced, unwavering. “This is Red Light, Green Light. You may move forward when the signal is given, but stop when the red light is on. Any movement during the red light will result in elimination.”

The word elimination lingered in the air like an omen. Some players shifted uneasily, but no one dared speak. They all thought it was just some form of disqualification—a way to eliminate people who broke the rules. It didn’t feel real. It couldn’t be real. But then again... there was something too perfect about the way everything was set up.

The robotic doll, towering at least twenty feet tall, flickered to life. Its eyes, cold and unblinking, scanned the players in front of it. A chill crawled down Y/N’s spine.

“Green light!” the voice shouted, its tone now a bit more upbeat.

A collective breath seemed to be released from the crowd, as players cautiously began moving forward. Y/N’s heart pounded, and her legs felt heavy as she forced herself to take her first steps. It was hard to move, but everyone around her was doing the same, some with a slight, uneasy relief on their faces.

The tension, though, was palpable. No one was really sure what would happen next. The game could end in an instant, and no one would know until it did.

Then, suddenly, the voice cut through the air again.

“Red light!”

The massive doll’s head jerked around in a mechanical motion. Its cold, unblinking eyes swept across the players. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, her feet frozen to the ground. Her heart was hammering against her chest as she forced herself to remain as still as possible. Stay still. Don’t move.

A few feet ahead of her, she saw one player stumble, his foot faltering as he tried to catch his balance. It was enough.

The sound of a gunshot cracked through the air. A bang.

Y/N froze. Her heart raced as the body of the player crumpled to the ground. Blood quickly pooled around them, and the horrific reality of what was happening sank in like a stone.

People are dying.

Then it all happened in a flash. The shot seemed to trigger a chain reaction. The chaos spread like wildfire. The panic was immediate, as players, desperate to escape, began to rush toward the exit. The sound of more gunshots rang out—one after another—each shot cutting through the madness. Each body dropping as more players scrambled in fear.

It was like a domino effect: players tripping over one another, desperately pushing forward, getting shot down with each step. The deafening noise of bodies hitting the ground filled the air, mixed with the muffled screams of those still moving.

Y/N’s mind went blank. She was rooted to the spot, unable to comprehend the horror unfolding around her. The gunshots rang out over and over again. Blood stained the dirt. People fell. The realization hit harder than the next shot—they are killing us.

And yet, amidst all the violence, Y/N stood frozen, helpless. The only thing that kept her in place was the fear of moving, the fear of becoming another name on the list of those eliminated. Her racing heart, the way it banged against her eardrums as the sound of gunshots continued to sound out.

And then, after what felt like an eternity, the doll’s head jerked back around.

“Green light!”

For a moment, the entire crowd seemed to hold its breath, like a wave about to crash. Then, the chaos subsided for the moment. Some players cautiously began moving forward again, their steps slower now, more deliberate. But the horror of what had just occurred still hung thick in the air.

But through the chaos, Y/N noticed something that gave her pause.

Amidst the fear and the frenzy, there was one figure still moving forward with an odd sense of calm. It was Player 001, the elderly man. He was moving slowly, deliberately, with no hint of panic in his step. The chaos around him didn’t seem to faze him in the least. In fact, he was smiling—an old, peaceful smile, as if this were all just some simple game to him.

Y/N blinked in confusion, still trying to make sense of what she was seeing. Here was an old man, somehow untouched by the chaos surrounding them, walking toward the finish line with a serene expression on his face. She wasn’t suspicious of him—just confused. Why was he here? And how was he so calm when everyone else was running for their lives?

The chaos continued around her, but for a brief moment, she found herself fixated on Player 001 and his bizarre, joyful smile.

It made no sense. How could he be smiling in the middle of all this?

Before she could dwell on it any longer, the voice crackled again. “Red light!”

Y/N’s focus snapped back to the game. She forced herself to keep moving forward, her breath shallow, her legs trembling as she inched closer to the line. The panic had subsided for a moment, but the danger was still there. Every second counted.

—/—

Y/N had made it to the finish line, standing still beside Player 218, breathing in shallow, ragged gasps. The tension in the air was suffocating. Ahead of them, Player 456 was still far from the finish line, but he was fighting with everything he had to make it.

Suddenly, Player 456 stumbled. His foot caught on the limp arm of a body that had already fallen, sending him teetering forward. Y/N’s heart jumped into her throat, her eyes widening as she watched him fight to regain his balance.

Before she could process what was happening, a hand shot out from the side. Player 199—who was right next to him—grabbed player 456's jacket, he didn't pull him to his feet but he kept him from hitting the ground completely.

For a moment, it looked like they might both fall. But Player 199 held onto the man's jacket, steadying him as the seconds ticked away. Y/N could feel the rising panic in the air as she watched them, the doll’s cold gaze unwavering.

And then, the voice rang out again: “Red light!”

Despite already have crossed the line and is more than safe for now Y/N’s body locked up, her breath held tight in her chest. The tension was unbearable. Players who had been moving even a fraction too late were falling. But there, in the middle of it all, Gi-hun and Player 199 were still frozen. She could see Gi-hun’s eyes, wide and desperate, his body trembling, but the two of them stayed perfectly still.

Then the doll spoke again: “Green light.”

The man let go of his jacket and they both eyed the timer that seemed to somehow be moving in slow motion and at super speed at the same time.

3

2

They leaped for it, both of them jumping over the finish line right as the timer hit 0. They laid on the ground catching their breaths while the rest of the people who didn't make it looked around or stared at nothing and before they had the chance to blink they were being gunned down for not making it in time. Y/N turned her head away and looked at the two men on the floor, her eyes meeting the player who stood next to her, 218 who gave a small but non noticeable nod. They had made it for now but this was only the first game.. the guard said they would be playing a total of six, five more rounds to go and something told her they would just get progressively harder.

[justarithinnngs]

Defenseless (Chapter 1 - Late Night, Talking)

paring: hwang junho x platonic(?) reader

i don't have any warnings at the moment but they'll be listed as the story continues. spaces will be continued as well, working on chapters five and six <3

—/—

The constant hum of traffic below her apartment, the way the streetlights bled through the edges of her curtains, the persistent buzz of her phone from endless group messages and reminders—it was all too much. Yet, here she was. A college senior in the heart of Seoul, miles from the small town where she’d grown up.

It had been 15 years since her family moved here when she was six. She had always thought it was a temporary thing—just a few years, an “adventure.” But here she was, nearing the end of her college years, and South Korea had long since become home.

Tonight, Y/N sat cross-legged on the couch, her laptop open in front of her but not being of much use. She’d been staring at the same blank page for the last hour, the blinking cursor a mocking reminder of how little she’d accomplished today. The thesis paper on the ethics of artificial intelligence might as well have been written in a foreign language.

Procrastination had become second nature. But tonight wasn’t about her paper. Tonight, she was lost in thought.

Her phone buzzed again on the coffee table.

Levi: “You alive?”

Y/N smiled slightly at the message. Levi was her older brother, a couple of years ahead of her in life, and an officer with the Seoul Police Department. He’d always been the protective one, the one who’d pushed her to move here for college even though she wasn’t so sure at first. And now, as a senior, she was glad he’d made that decision.

He was busy. But that was just how Levi was.

Y/N’s fingers hovered over her phone before she typed back:

Y/N: “Yeah, just trying to finish this paper.”

Seconds later, another message popped up.

Levi: “Good luck with that. I’m probably gonna be out late tonight. Keep the door locked.”

Y/N frowned at the text. “Out late tonight.” That was the typical Levi thing to say. Always working late, running errands for his job, or doing something official. He had never been one to talk much about his work. She knew he was a detective, but that was about it.

She sat back against the cushions, rolling her neck to relieve the tension. She wasn’t worried about him; he was a cop, after all. But she did wonder what his night was going to be like—if it was going to be like all the other nights when he came home late, his face tight and his shoulders stiff with whatever case he was working on.

Another buzz.

Levi: “If you get bored, come grab dinner. There’s a place I found near the station. You’ll like it.”

She chuckled at that. Levi always tried to get her out of her shell, even if she didn’t want to leave her apartment. He’d been like that since they were kids—always pushing her to experience more.

Y/N: “I’ll think about it.”

She put her phone down and returned to her paper. She had to at least make it look like she was trying. Her eyes wandered to the clock on the wall.

11:15 p.m.

It was getting late, and the apartment felt heavier, the sounds of the city more distant now. Her gaze slid over to the window. The city was quieter now, but there was still that hum—the feeling of being in a place that never fully stopped moving. Sometimes, she envied the people who could just immerse themselves in the rush of it all. But she wasn’t one of them.

Her thoughts drifted back to Levi. He wasn’t the type to talk about his job much, but Y/N could tell there was a tiredness in him these past few months. Nothing outwardly strange, but a quiet shift she couldn’t ignore. Maybe it was just the stress of being a cop. He was, after all, always on—always in detective mode.

But Y/N wasn’t too concerned. If anything, she trusted him to handle whatever came his way.

She picked up her phone again and scrolled absentmindedly through her social media feed, finding herself growing irritated by the noise. She wanted nothing more than to shut everything out for a while. But the quiet was overwhelming, and her thoughts always had a way of creeping in, no matter how hard she tried to ignore them.

Y/N grabbed a blanket from the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders. The night wasn’t going to end with a finished paper or any brilliant thoughts on artificial intelligence. But she was okay with that. She didn’t mind the slow pace of her life most of the time. It was comfortable.

And comfortable, she thought as she looked at her reflection in the glass of the window, was all she really needed right now.

The Doorbell

The chime of her doorbell startled her out of her thoughts. Y/N blinked, glancing at the clock.

11:45 p.m.

Who the hell could be here at this hour?

Her thoughts immediately went to Levi, but then she remembered—he had said he was going to be out late. So, it couldn’t be him.

Her mind raced as she walked toward the door, her heartbeat picking up with each step. She peered through the peephole, and her eyes widened.

It was Levi. And standing beside him—Junho.

The sight of them together was strange, considering she hadn’t seen her brother in a couple of days. And Junho? She only ever saw him when he and Levi hung out, but it was rare. The two of them had the kind of friendship where you could sense their bond even when they didn’t speak.

And yet… here they were, standing in her doorway with pizza boxes.

Y/N blinked, half expecting them to disappear. “What are you guys doing here?” she asked, still standing behind the door, her voice filled with confusion.

Levi grinned as he shifted the pizza boxes in his arms. “We brought dinner.”

Junho, standing off to the side, nodded and grinned as well. “We thought you could use a break from your studies.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “A break? It’s almost midnight. Don’t you guys have… work?”

Levi just waved it off. “We’re both off tonight. Besides, I know you’re stressed about that thesis. Consider this your distraction.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at his offer, despite the weirdness of the situation. “I mean, I guess I can’t say no to pizza…”

Junho stepped forward with one of the boxes. “That’s the spirit.”

Y/N stepped back, making room for them to enter. “I swear, you two think you can just show up anytime you want. I’m surprised you didn’t knock on the window, too.”

Levi laughed, pushing past her into the apartment. “We figured you’d be in your study cave, avoiding humanity.” He tossed a wink in her direction, his usual playful self. “Plus, it’s not like we get to hang out like this anymore.”

Y/N shut the door behind them, still processing how sudden this was. “I should probably be the one bringing you food. You two always work yourselves into the ground.”

Junho shrugged, dropping the pizza on the coffee table and flopping onto the couch. “It’s what we do.”

Y/N settled beside him, taking a slice and leaning back into the cushions. “So, what’s up? I thought you were both supposed to be busy?”

Levi shot her a playful look, grabbing a slice himself. “You know how it is. A cop’s work is never done.”

They all settled into a comfortable silence for a while, the only sound being the quiet munching of pizza and the hum of the city outside. As much as Y/N wanted to focus on her paper, the presence of her brother and Junho was… refreshing. She’d forgotten what it was like to have the two of them just hang out with her.

—/—

Y/N had forgotten how much she enjoyed just hanging out. Between her schoolwork and the quiet days she spent mostly alone in her apartment, having her brother and Junho over felt like a rare gift. The kind that almost made her feel like a regular college student, one who didn’t get buried in papers every weekend.

The three of them sat on the couch, passing around pizza, talking about nothing and everything. It felt natural. Levi’s easygoing nature had a way of filling the silence, and Junho just seemed to go along with whatever Levi said, his quiet laugh following Levi’s jokes.

But after a while, Y/N found herself staring at her half-eaten slice, mind wandering as the conversation meandered between casual topics.

Levi stood up abruptly, stretching his arms over his head with a yawn. “I’m gonna hit the bathroom. Don’t eat all the pizza, okay?”

Y/N didn’t bother to look up. “I’ll try, but no promises.”

He smiled before heading down the hall to the bathroom, leaving her alone with Junho.

For a second, Y/N hesitated. It was just Junho. He’d been over to their place a handful of times—Levi’s work buddy, the guy who was always around but never too much in the spotlight. She’d spoken to him a couple of times, mostly small talk or shared jokes when Levi dragged him into their hangouts. But in the years of knowing him, they had never really talked.

And now, here they were, alone.

Y/N quickly picked up her slice of pizza and took a bite, eyes on the TV, though the screen was just a blur. She could feel the silence stretching between them. It wasn’t awkward in the way that made her want to flee, but it wasn’t comfortable either. There was something about Junho’s quiet presence that threw her off balance.

She glanced over at him. He was sitting back, his elbows propped up on the couch, staring at his slice of pizza like it was the most interesting thing in the room.

“You, uh, you still work the night shifts often?” Y/N asked, suddenly realizing how weird the question sounded. She cleared her throat. “I mean, I guess you do. Being a cop and all.”

Junho, who’d been mostly quiet until now, gave her a small smile. “Yeah, it’s part of the job. Sometimes it feels like I live in the station.”

Y/N nodded, though she had no idea how to respond to that. She had always known Junho as Levi’s friend—the guy who was occasionally in the background, never really involved in her day-to-day life. It was strange, sitting here with him like this. She felt like she was still trying to figure out how to engage without overstepping.

She cleared her throat again, setting her pizza down and suddenly feeling like her hands were too fidgety.

“So… uh… you and Levi working on any big cases right now?”

Junho’s eyes flickered to her, his gaze softening. “A few. You know, the usual. Sometimes the work gets… complicated.” He trailed off, as if debating how much to say. Then, to her surprise, he added, “But it’s manageable. It’s what we do.”

Y/N wasn’t sure why, but hearing him say that made her feel a little lighter. There was something about his calmness, his way of not saying too much but enough to keep the conversation going, that made her relax.

Still, the silence hung between them like a heavy curtain.

She scratched the back of her neck, trying to find something else to say. It was fine when Levi was here—they were a team, in a way. Levi’s easy banter and teasing made the room feel full, even if it was just the three of them. But now, with only Junho here, everything felt a little empty. She didn’t mind the quiet. It wasn’t awkward awkward, but it was definitely not… natural.

Junho seemed to sense her discomfort, and for the first time, he actually spoke. “It’s funny, you know. I’ve been around your brother for a while now, but we’ve never really talked much.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow at him, a little surprised by the comment. She leaned back against the couch, suddenly feeling a little less tense. “Yeah, same. I mean, you’re always around, but we’ve never really… had a real conversation.”

He nodded, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “Guess we’re both kind of bad at that.”

It was a small comment, but something about the way he said it made Y/N laugh. Not loudly, but just enough to ease some of the tension. “Guess so.”

Junho smiled again, this time a bit wider. It was a soft, genuine thing that she hadn’t noticed before. She had always seen him as stoic—quiet, reserved, the kind of guy who stayed in the background. But now that they were alone, Y/N was starting to realize how different he was in this setting. Without Levi’s constant presence, Junho seemed… more approachable, more human.

“So,” Y/N began, her voice less nervous now. “What do you usually do when you’re not at work?”

Junho looked at her, his expression thoughtful. “I don’t know. Not much, I guess. I like to run. Helps clear my head.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows. “Run? Like, you actually go outside and run?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah. I mean, I don’t run marathons or anything. Just… to clear my mind.”

That made sense, Y/N thought. Junho always seemed like the type to need that space, that quiet moment to himself. She could relate in a way. The quiet was where she found her peace.

“I guess that’s one way to get away from it all,” she said, her voice light. “I… can barely run for more than five minutes before I start feeling like I’m going to die.”

Junho laughed, a real, soft laugh this time. “Maybe you’re doing it wrong.”

Y/N smiled, feeling the moment shift. This wasn’t so bad. They were just two people talking. Not brother and friend, just… people.

Just then, Levi’s voice echoed from down the hall. “Hey, don’t get too cozy without me!”

Y/N glanced toward the hall, her smile barely holding back a laugh. She could already hear Levi shuffling back toward them.

“Levi, we’re just talking,” she called back, her voice light.

Levi stepped back into the living room, his hands on his hips as he shot a playful glance at both of them. “You guys better not have solved all the world’s problems without me.”

Y/N stuck her tongue out at him, throwing a pillow in his direction. “Not yet, but give us another five minutes.”

Junho smirked, his earlier solemnity softened by the shared joke. “You’re lucky we saved you some pizza.”

Levi groaned dramatically, dropping back onto the couch and stealing a slice. “You’re lucky I didn’t come back and find you two still talking about running and philosophy or whatever.” He took a bite and settled in, clearly in no mood for deep conversation.

Y/N and Junho exchanged a brief, almost imperceptible glance, the kind of look that said this is enough—the moment had shifted back to normal. Just the three of them, in the most ordinary way. It wasn’t anything groundbreaking, but it was comfortable.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, the kind of silence that no one minded because it wasn’t awkward, just a peaceful pause. The kind of silence you share with people you’re close to. No expectations. No pressure.

And for a while, everything was just… easy.

[justarithinnngs]

Spaces (Squid Game x Player!Reader)

Chapter 4: Choices

word count: 2,943

The streets of Seoul felt endless as Y/N walked home, the familiar clamor of the city around her not quite reaching her ears. The money in her pocket seemed out of place, its weight both comforting and unsettling. She hadn’t asked for it, hadn’t sought it out, but now it was hers, a reminder of the strange encounter that had just taken place. She could still feel the man with the briefcase his cool, practiced smile lingering in her thoughts. The way his words hung in the air like a lingering note, a question she couldn’t answer yet. There were more games. More chances. The card.

It all felt like an out-of-body experience, something disconnected from her reality, like she was observing herself from the outside. She was tired—tired in a way she couldn’t explain. But beneath that exhaustion, a creeping curiosity began to take root. The salesman had said there were more games to be played. More money to be earned. And, for a moment, she wondered if she could get out from under the weight of her father’s illness by doing something—anything—that didn’t feel like waiting for the inevitable.

She entered her apartment, the door creaking closed behind her. The space was dim, but familiar, a reflection of her life before everything had begun to change. She dropped her purse on the table and walked to the window, staring out at the city skyline. The lights twinkled in the distance, a chaotic sea of life that felt so far removed from her current existence. She should be with her mother, with her father. She should be with her family, comforting them. But somehow, she had found herself on a different path, one that she couldn’t quite turn away from.

Her fingers instinctively reached into her bag and pulled out the card. She stared at it again, the numbers written in unassuming black ink. There was no name, no company, and no address. And a circle, square and triangle on the front of it. Just a number, on the back of the card - a line that separated her from something else, something she couldn’t define. It wasn’t just a business card. It was an invitation to something. But to what?

Her phone buzzed, pulling her from her thoughts. She glanced at the screen, the name flashing across it: Jiwoo.

Y/N hesitated before answering. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk to her friend; it was just that talking about her father, about everything that had happened, felt like too much to bear right now. Her voice, thick with emotion, would give it all away, and Jiwoo wasn’t the type to let her hide. She wasn’t sure she wanted that.

She pressed the green button, taking a slow breath before putting the phone to her ear.

��Hey,” Jiwoo’s voice sounded on the other end, gentle but with an edge of concern. “You haven’t replied to my messages all day. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Y/N replied automatically, but the words felt hollow even as they left her lips.

“You’re not fine,” Jiwoo said, her voice firm. “I know you. You’re avoiding me. I get that you don’t want to talk, but I’m here. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

Y/N bit her lip, closing her eyes. She didn’t want to tell Jiwoo. She couldn’t find the words to explain the suffocating grief, the helplessness of watching her father deteriorate in front of her eyes. “I don’t know what to do anymore,” she admitted quietly. “Everything is… falling apart.”

“I’m here, okay? No matter what. If you want to talk, if you want to cry, I’m here.”

Y/N let out a shaky breath. “Thank you,” she whispered.

There was a brief pause, then Jiwoo spoke again, her tone softer. “Do you want me to come over? I’ll bring takeout or something. We could just hang out for a while. Get your mind off things.”

Y/N felt the tightness in her chest loosen just a fraction at the thought of her friend sitting beside her, someone who knew her too well to let her wallow for long. “Yeah, that sounds nice. Thanks.”

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

They hung up, and Y/N sat in silence, staring at the card again. The weight of the salesman’s words returned to her. More games. More chances. It felt wrong, but somehow, it also felt like an opportunity—an escape from the grief that clung to her, from the helplessness that threatened to swallow her whole. She wasn’t sure what kind of game the salesman was talking about, but it didn’t matter. She was desperate enough to try something.

---

As the hour passed, Y/N made herself presentable, changing into more comfortable clothes, trying to calm the swirling thoughts in her mind. The buzzing of her phone broke her reverie. It was Jiwoo, telling her she had arrived.

Y/N grabbed the card one last time, shoving it back into her bag, and made her way to the door. She opened it to find Jiwoo standing in the hallway, holding bags of food with a smile on her face that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Hey,” Jiwoo greeted her, her voice quieter than usual. “How are you?”

Y/N smiled weakly. “Better now that you’re here.”

“Good,” Jiwoo said, stepping inside. “I brought all your favorites. I thought you could use a little comfort food.”

Y/N’s chest tightened as she closed the door behind her. She could feel the heavy silence creeping in again. But for now, the presence of her friend was enough. She took the bags from Jiwoo and began unpacking the food as they sat down at the table. The minutes stretched into hours, and the quiet conversation flowed in and out like a steady rhythm, but in the back of Y/N’s mind, the card from the salesman continued to linger.

She knew she should be talking to Jiwoo about her father, about the fear that she was losing him piece by piece. But a part of her couldn’t bear to speak it aloud. Couldn’t bring herself to say the words that she had already said so many times in her head. Instead, she let herself slip into a semblance of normality. The games. The food. The laughter. It was all a temporary distraction, but for tonight, that was enough.

Then, there was a knock at the door.

Y/N looked toward Jiwoo, confusion flickering across her face. “Who could that be?”

Soojin’s voice came from the other side of the door. “It’s me. Let me in before you lock me out!”

Y/N opened the door to find Soojin standing there, looking just as disheveled as the two of them. Her short, dark hair was tousled, and she wore a hoodie that made her look younger than she actually was, but her expression was anything but youthful.

“Of course, you show up now,” Jiwoo said with a grin, stepping aside to let Soojin in. “I’m trying to help Y/N feel better, and here you are, barging in like a tornado.”

Soojin smirked. “Someone’s gotta break up the party. Besides, she’s been avoiding both of us all day. I knew we’d have to come together to drag her out of whatever hole she’s hiding in.”

Y/N chuckled weakly. “I’m not hiding…”

“Right, you’re just being hidden,” Soojin teased. “But seriously, we’ve got food. The three of us together is all the therapy we need right now.”

They all sat down, Jiwoo immediately pulling out the food. Soojin was already rifling through the containers, her usual energy keeping the atmosphere light. But Y/N felt the weight of it all return when she saw the concerned glances exchanged between her friends. They were worried about her, and for good reason.

“Have you eaten today?” Jiwoo asked, eyeing Y/N with a look that was half gentle, half probing.

“I’m not hungry,” Y/N replied, her voice barely audible as she poked at the food in front of her, the sensation of it all—her friends, the conversation—fading in and out like a dream she couldn’t fully grasp.

“Y/N,” Soojin said, her tone turning serious as she leaned forward. “I get it. We know what’s going on. But you’re not alone. We’re all in this together. Don’t shut us out.”

Y/N felt the tears welling up, but she blinked them away, not wanting to crumble in front of them. “I know… I just…” She trailed off, feeling overwhelmed by the thoughts she couldn’t voice.

“Is it your dad?” Soojin asked quietly, her voice soft but filled with a warmth that made Y/N’s chest tighten.

Y/N nodded, blinking quickly to keep her composure. “Yeah. It’s been getting worse. I don’t know how to deal with it anymore. It feels like everything is slipping away, and I’m just… watching.”

There was a long silence as Soojin and Jiwoo exchanged a glance. It was clear they both wanted to help, but the truth was, they couldn’t fix it. They couldn’t change the reality that Y/N was living with.

“I’m scared,” Y/N admitted, her voice a whisper. “I don’t know what to do. I feel so helpless.”

Soojin reached over and placed her hand on Y/N’s. “You don’t have to figure it out all at once. We’ll figure it out together, okay?”

Y/N smiled weakly, grateful for her friends’ presence. She needed them more than she realized, but the card—the one tucked safely in her bag—still lingered in the back of her mind. It was like an echo she couldn’t shake, the question of what to do with it hanging in the air between them.

The weight of it was becoming unbearable. The idea of walking away, of pretending she hadn’t been offered something, was starting to feel like a lie. She had no idea what the game was. She didn’t know what she’d be walking into if she decided to call the number, but there was something deep inside her that couldn’t quite turn away.

But she was here, with Jiwoo and Soojin. The people who had been with her through everything. It didn’t feel right to even consider it. What if it was dangerous? What if it was a trap?

“Y/N,” Jiwoo’s voice broke through her thoughts, drawing her back to the table. “Are you okay? You’ve been really quiet.”

Y/N blinked, her gaze flickering from her phone to the half-empty containers of food in front of them. Soojin was laughing at something Jiwoo said, but it all felt far away. The weight of the card was still heavy in her bag, but the familiar, grounding presence of her friends helped pull her back to reality.

“Yeah, just thinking,” Y/N replied, her smile almost convincing.

“About what?” Soojin asked, a sly grin creeping across her face. “What’s going on in that brain of yours?”

Y/N hesitated. Should she tell them? Should she share what had happened with that man? She didn’t know what to think about it, let alone explain it to her friends. It felt so… surreal. How could she even begin?

“Something happened earlier,” she admitted slowly. “I met someone. A man. He gave me money after I won a game.”

Both Jiwoo and Soojin stopped mid-conversation and turned to look at her, their expressions a mix of curiosity and concern.

“A game?” Jiwoo asked. “What kind of game?”

“It was just… a game, like the one we used to play when we were kids,” Y/N said, unsure of how to explain it without sounding ridiculous. “Ddakji. He made me play, and I won.”

Soojin raised an eyebrow. “And he gave you money for winning?”

Y/N nodded. “¥100,000. He said there were more games I could play. That I could win more money. But… it felt off, you know? Like, I don’t know, it’s just weird. I’m not sure what to make of it.”

“More games?” Jiwoo echoed, leaning in. “That’s… that sounds kind of strange. But also kind of amazing? I mean, who wouldn’t want more money?”

“I don’t know,” Y/N said, shaking her head. “It felt like he was offering something else. Like there was more to it than just the money. But I don’t know what. I don’t know if I should trust it.”

Soojin snorted. “Well, if the guy gave you money, maybe you should trust it a little? Sounds like free money to me.”

“Y/N,” Jiwoo’s voice was serious now, her tone cutting through the casual conversation. “I get that things are tough with your dad, but don’t get too caught up in something that seems too good to be true. We don’t know anything about this guy. What if he’s not… well, a good person?”

Y/N’s fingers twitched, her mind still circling back to the card. There was a part of her that wanted to believe it was just a random encounter, that it didn’t mean anything more than what it appeared to be. But another part of her—the part that felt helpless, that didn’t know how to face what was coming—was starting to wonder what would happen if she called the number. What would she be walking into?

“I don’t know what to do,” Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“We’re here for you,” Soojin said, her voice warm and sincere. “But don’t go making decisions like that on your own. Whatever’s happening with your dad, we’ll face it together. Just… don’t let someone else take advantage of you in the process.”

Y/N glanced down at her phone again, her fingers brushing over the card tucked inside her bag. The question still gnawed at her: What if this was the chance she was looking for?

“I’ll figure it out,” she said, finally. “I don’t know yet. But thank you. For being here.”

Both of her friends nodded, and the tension in the room seemed to ease just a little, like a heavy weight had been lifted off her chest.

---

The night continued, a semblance of normalcy returning as they finished eating and then shifted into easy chatter. But no matter how hard Y/N tried to push the thoughts aside, they kept creeping back in. The salesman. The card. The promise of more games, more money. It was all too much to ignore.

The following days blurred together, each one feeling like the last, a continuous loop of waiting and wondering. Y/N kept herself busy, helping her mother with her father’s care, finding moments to laugh with Jiwoo and Soojin, trying to act like everything was okay when nothing was. But the nagging feeling of that card remained. Every time her phone buzzed or the doorbell rang, she wondered if that call would come, the one that would change everything.

It wasn’t until a few days later, when she found herself sitting in the living room, scrolling through social media absentmindedly, that the opportunity presented itself.

Her mind wandered back to the day she’d received the card, the salesman’s quiet words echoing in her head. The question kept lingering: What if this was the chance she was looking for?

The decision felt inevitable now, like it was the only option left in a world that seemed to be spiraling. She took the card from her bag, staring at the number printed neatly on the back.

She hesitated for a long moment, feeling the weight of it in her palm. With a shaky breath, she opened her dialer and punched in the number.

The line rang a few times before the phone picked up the person on the other end staying quiet, just waiting for her to speak.

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, the card’s weight growing heavier in her hand, "hello?" her voice was shaky and praying to whoever was listening that this wasn't just a scam.

“Your full name and date of birth, please,” came the simple request. The tone was polite, but there was no room for negotiation, no room for hesitation.

Y/N swallowed, her mind reeling. She hadn’t expected it to be this straightforward. But she gave the information anyway—her name, her birthdate. Everything she had to say felt like a small thread unraveling in her chest, but it was too late to pull back now.

There was a brief silence on the other end. For a few seconds, Y/N wondered if the call had disconnected, but then the voice returned, this time with a finality to it.

“Be at the subway station entrance, line 4 at 8pm tomorrow. A car will pick you up.” The voice paused for a beat.

And then, without another word, the line went dead.

Y/N sat there for a long time, staring at the phone in her hand. The conversation had been short, but it felt like her whole world had shifted in that moment. She wasn’t sure if she was scared or relieved, but one thing was certain—there was no turning back now.

She had made her choice.

The card was now just a piece of paper, a mere symbol of what was to come. But the truth was, Y/N felt something stirring inside her—something that had been dormant for far too long. Maybe she didn’t have the answers. Maybe she didn’t know what she was getting into. But maybe—just maybe—this was her way out. The chance to escape the suffocating weight of everything that had been holding her back.

She closed her eyes, a shaky breath escaping her lips.

Tomorrow.

[justarithinnngs]

Spaces (Squid Game x Player!Reader)

sorry! school started back up and i've been busy. thanks for all the likes on it so far, i have a lot planned for this story :)

Chapter 3: Invitation

word count: 1,116

The streets of Seoul were quieter now, the usual hum of city life subdued beneath the weight of her thoughts. Y/N felt disconnected from the world around her. Her father’s diagnosis had shaken everything she knew, and her mind constantly spiraled back to that awful moment in the hospital. No amount of comforting words could change the fact that time was running out.

She walked aimlessly through the quiet streets, trying to clear her head. The constant thoughts—what now? How could she help him? How could she hold her family together?—made it hard to focus on anything else. The city was alive, bustling with people who didn’t know, couldn’t know, the storm raging inside her. She didn’t know where she was going or why she kept moving, but the feeling of being stuck in limbo was unbearable.

It was then that she saw him.

A man in a well-tailored suit stood under a flickering streetlamp, his posture immaculate. He didn’t seem out of place, but there was something about him—a quiet certainty that made him stand apart from the busy crowds around him. He watched her for a moment before taking a small step toward her.

“Excuse me, miss,” he said, his voice smooth and calm. It was the kind of voice that didn’t demand attention, but still drew it. “Would you be interested in a game?”

Y/N hesitated. She had no interest in talking to strangers tonight. “I’m really not in the mood,” she muttered, her gaze drifting away from him as she continued walking.

But he didn’t stop. “It’s just a simple game. Ddakji.” He held out a small, folded card toward her, like an invitation. “I think you’ll find it interesting.”

Y/N stopped, an eyebrow raised in mild curiosity. She wasn’t sure why, but something about his calm persistence caught her attention. Maybe it was the slight distraction she needed. “A game?” she asked, glancing at the folded card. It seemed simple enough. “What’s the catch?”

He smiled, not an overbearing grin, but a measured, almost amused expression. “No catch. You win, you get ¥100,000. It’s just a game of chance. Nothing more.”

Her gut told her she should walk away. Something felt off about the whole thing. But the weight of everything pressing down on her made it hard to think clearly. The idea of a small distraction, a fleeting moment of something different, was oddly tempting.

“Fine,” she said, still uncertain but intrigued enough to play along. “One round.”

He nodded and crouched down, placing his card on the pavement in front of him. “You go first.”

(Y/N) mimicked his movements, carefully setting her card beside his. With a quick flick of her wrist, she sent her card flying, flipping it cleanly onto his. The smooth action felt almost too easy, like her body had known exactly what to do without thinking.

The salesman watched her, his face impassive but a hint of surprise flickered in his eyes. “Impressive,” he said, his tone neutral but with a subtle trace of admiration. Without a word, he reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a thick stack of bills. ¥100,000. He handed it to her with the same measured calmness as before.

“No tricks,” he said, almost as an afterthought. “Here you go.”

She took the money from him, still processing what had just happened. ¥100,000. Just like that.

His gaze didn’t waver as he watched her count the bills quickly, her mind still caught up in the suddenness of it all. Then, without waiting for her to respond, he gave her a small nod.

“Should you be interested,” he said, his tone unchanged, “there are more games to play. You can earn more if you choose.

The words hung in the air between them, casual and almost indifferent, but Y/N could feel the weight of them. He wasn’t pushing her, but the implication was clear: there was more.

He stepped back, the distance between them growing as he reached into his jacket again. This time, he pulled out a small, white business card and extended it toward her.

“For when you’re ready,” he said, his voice smooth. “If you want more.”

Y/N glanced at the card for a moment, confused. There was no logo, only shapes. No information other than a string of numbers—nothing that made it seem special, except for the weight of his words and the strange feeling it left in her chest.

“Don’t worry,” he added, a small, knowing smile touching his lips. “There are no strings attached.”

Without another word, he turned on his heel, walking away into the night without a trace. Y/N stood there, still holding the money in one hand, the business card in the other. The sound of his footsteps echoed down the alley, then disappeared.

She stared at the card for a moment longer, the quiet weight of it resting in her palm. The world around her felt quieter now, somehow emptier, though she couldn’t quite explain why.

Her heart beat a little faster as she pocketed the ¥100,000, then slid the card into her bag. She didn’t know what to make of this strange encounter, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that it had been more than just a game. There was something beneath the surface she hadn’t quite understood yet. More games. More money. The idea gnawed at her, the curiosity tugging at her thoughts.

Was she ready for something like that? Was she desperate enough to dive into whatever the man had implied?

But for now, she decided to leave it. She had enough to think about without adding more complications.

(Y/N) glanced around the alley, expecting the man to appear again, but there was no sign of him. He had vanished, as if he had never been there at all.

She turned and began walking down the street again, the business card still tucked away in her bag, its weight pulling at her thoughts. The city buzzed around her, alive and vibrant. The lights and sounds were familiar, but the reality of everything she had just experienced felt strange and foreign.

More games?

She didn’t know why, but a part of her wanted to know more. A part of her wanted to take the next step.

But as she walked, she pushed the thought away, refusing to let it take hold just yet. There were enough things on her plate. She didn’t need any more.

Still, the card stayed with her, as did the promise of more—more games, more chances. The thought lingered like a shadow at the edge of her mind.

And she knew, whether she liked it or not, that she hadn’t seen the last of the man.

[justarithinnngs]

Spaces (Squid Game x Player!Reader)

Chapter 2 - Tell me when you hear my heart stop.

-

The phone felt heavy in her hand. Her mother’s voice still lingered in her ears, but all (Y/N) could hear now was the pounding of her heart, the frantic thoughts racing in her mind.

She let the phone slip from her hand, landing softly on the couch, and then she buried her face in her hands. A choked sob tore through her chest, each breath coming in jagged gasps, as though the air had been stolen from her.

Her apartment—her safe place—felt unfamiliar now. The walls, once a comforting embrace, now closed in on her. The laughter from earlier in the night felt distant, like something she could never quite return to. It was as if she had stepped through some invisible threshold, and the world on the other side was darker, colder.

Her father was dying. It wasn’t a nightmare. It wasn’t some cruel joke. It was real. Brain cancer. The words repeated in her mind like a broken record, over and over, louder with each iteration, until they drowned out everything else; and all she wanted to do was scream.

She’d spent so many years looking after others—her friends, her family, even strangers who needed a kind word or a smile. She had always been the bright one, the energetic one, the one who brought light into any room she entered. But now, it felt like the world was stealing that light from her, wondering what she could have possibly done for her and her family to feel this type of pain. She felt hollow, empty, as if all her joy had been sucked out by something too big to comprehend.

She could feel the raw grief swelling in her chest, but beneath it, there was something else: fear. Fear of losing her father. Fear of what would happen to her family if she couldn’t fix this. Fear of the unknown, of a future she had no control over.

(Y/N)’s phone buzzed again, this time vibrating against the fabric of the couch. She glanced at the screen. Jiwoo’s name flashed in bold letters, but she didn’t have the strength to answer. She knew what they’d say, what they always said—Call me if you need anything. But the truth was, nothing they said could fix this. Nothing anyone said could bring her father back, could reverse the diagnosis, could stop the inevitable.

She pulled her knees to her chest, curling up into herself as the tears fell freely now, soaking her shirt. The weight of it all crushed her, and for the first time in her life, she didn’t know how to be the person everyone needed her to be.

How could she fix this? How could she make it better? She couldn’t. She was powerless. And in that realization, she felt the last shred of hope slip away.

Time passed without her noticing—minutes, hours, she wasn’t sure—but eventually, she managed to gather herself enough to sit up. The tears didn’t stop, but the worst of the sobbing had subsided. Her body trembled, and her head ached, but at least the nausea had lessened.

She stood, moving like a zombie toward the kitchen, her mind still clouded, her limbs heavy. Her phone buzzed again, and this time she couldn’t ignore it. She had to answer.

With shaky hands, she picked it up.

“(Y/N)? Are you okay?” Jiwoo’s voice came through, warm and concerned. “We were all getting worried about you. You haven’t replied to any of our texts, and—”

She couldn’t hold it back. The lump in her throat was too much, and before she knew it, her breath caught, and she burst into tears again. Jiwoo’s voice cut through her sobs, frantic. “(Y/N), what’s wrong? What happened?”

“I—Jiwoo…” Her words faltered, choking on the emotions she couldn’t contain. “It’s Dad. He’s sick, Jiwoo. Really sick. He… he has brain cancer.”

The words didn’t feel real, but as soon as they left her mouth, a sob wracked her body. Her vision blurred with tears, and she stumbled to the couch, sitting down heavily, like her legs couldn’t hold her anymore.

There was a long silence, and for a moment, (Y/N) feared Jiwoo would hang up, unsure of how to respond. But when Jiwoo spoke again, her voice was soft, comforting, yet raw with emotion.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I can’t even imagine how you’re feeling right now.”

The words hit her like a wave, crashing over her chest. “I don’t know what to do, Jiwoo. I don’t know how to fix this. I’ve always been the one to help everyone else, and now…” She trailed off, her breath hitching. “Now, I can’t fix this. I can’t fix him.”

“You don’t have to fix it,” Jiwoo said, her voice steady but soft. “You just need to be there for him. For your family. And for yourself. You can’t do it all alone, it's not healthy."

(Y/N) closed her eyes, the ache inside her deepening, making it hard to breathe. She could feel her mother’s words echoing in her mind again—We’ll fight for him. You’re not alone. But no matter how much they fought, it wouldn’t change what was coming.

“Jiwoo,” (Y/N) said after a long moment, her voice thick. “I don’t know how to be strong right now. I feel… empty. Like everything that made me me is gone.”

“You’re still you, (Y/N).” Jiwoo’s words were quiet, but they carried weight. “You’re just… hurting right now. And that’s okay. You don’t have to pretend to be okay.”

The relief that washed over her was so overwhelming, she almost collapsed from it. She let her phone drop onto the couch beside her, curling into herself again. Jiwoo was right. She didn’t have to pretend. She didn’t have to be the person everyone expected her to be, not tonight. Not when everything felt so broken.

But still, there was that gnawing question in the back of her mind—What now? What was she supposed to do with this grief, with this helplessness? What was she supposed to do when the people she loved most were slipping through her fingers?

That night, (Y/N) didn’t sleep. She didn’t even try. She sat on her couch, staring at the empty space in front of her, listening to the distant hum of the city outside her window. Her phone buzzed again, this time from her mom, but (Y/N) didn’t pick up. She couldn’t.

Her mind was filled with nothing but the weight of the future—the future that no longer felt certain, that no longer felt like something she had control over. Every moment seemed fragile, slipping away as quickly as it came.

The next morning, her mom called again, her voice quieter than before, but firm. “(Y/N), I know this is a lot to take in, but your father needs you. We have an appointment at the hospital today. They’re going to discuss treatment options, but we need you here with us. Can you come?”

It was the last thing (Y/N) wanted to do. She wanted to scream, to shut herself off from everything, to pretend that her father wasn’t dying. But instead, she took a deep breath, holding back the tears that threatened to rise again.

“I’ll be there,” she said, her voice trembling.

As she hung up the phone, she felt the smallest spark of resolve flicker inside her, but it was quickly extinguished by the overwhelming weight of what was to come.

She pulled on a jacket, her hands still trembling, and left her apartment. The world outside felt unchanged, but for her, everything had shifted. Every step she took toward her car felt like a step further from who she had been just a day ago.

The fight had just begun. And it was a fight she didn’t know if she was strong enough to win.

But for her dad, she would try. She had to try.

(Y/N) stumbled into the cold morning, the sharp air biting at her skin, but she barely felt it. Every step felt like it took more effort than the last, her limbs heavy, weighed down by the exhaustion that seemed to seep into her bones. But still, she kept moving. Even if it felt like she was walking through molasses, even if she couldn’t see past the pain clouding her mind—she had to keep moving.

The streets outside her apartment were already bustling with the noise of the city—cars honking, people shouting to one another, the distant hum of the world spinning forward. It all felt so wrong. Like the world was continuing on, business as usual, while her entire world was slowly crumbling.

(Y/N) reached her car, but before she could open the door, her phone buzzed again.

It was Jiwoo.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

The question sat in her chest like a weight. She didn’t want to burden Jiwoo with this, with the crushing weight of the reality she had to face. But at the same time, she was so tired—tired of being strong, tired of trying to carry everything on her own. Maybe, just maybe, she could lean on someone who loved her.

She stared at the screen for a long moment, her finger hovering over the keyboard. She could hear Jiwoo’s voice in her mind—soft, gentle, like she was already there, offering comfort even through the phone.

She didn’t want to burden anyone. But… she couldn’t face today alone.

(Y/N) typed back, “Yeah. Please.”

Within moments, Jiwoo replied, “I’m on my way.”

It felt like a small victory, that one decision—choosing to let someone in, to accept help. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for now.

When Jiwoo arrived, (Y/N) was already sitting in her car, staring blankly at the steering wheel. Her body felt like a lead weight, and her mind was lost in a fog of worry and fear. Jiwoo slid into the passenger seat without a word, her presence a quiet comfort, and for a few moments, the only sound was the low hum of the engine.

They drove in silence, and the roads blurred beneath them. The appointment at the hospital was looming ahead, but (Y/N) couldn’t bring herself to think about it. She couldn’t bring herself to think about what the doctors would say, what the treatment options would look like, or how much longer her father could hold on. It all felt too much.

But Jiwoo was there, her presence like a tether, keeping (Y/N) grounded. Even when her mind was spiraling, even when she felt like she was about to break under the weight of it all, Jiwoo was there.

The drive was long, but it didn’t matter. When they finally reached the hospital, (Y/N) felt like she was stepping into another world. The sterile smell of antiseptic, the constant buzz of machinery—it was all too familiar now. And yet, it still felt like she was walking into a nightmare she couldn’t wake up from.

“Ready?” Jiwoo asked, her voice soft.

(Y/N) nodded, but the action felt robotic. She wasn’t sure she was ready. She wasn’t sure she would ever be ready. But her dad needed her. She had to be strong. Even if she didn’t know how.

Inside, they were led to the small consultation room where her parents were waiting. Her mother sat there, her eyes dark with exhaustion, her face drawn tight with worry. When she saw (Y/N), she stood up, her arms reaching out, but (Y/N) couldn’t move. She couldn’t bring herself to let her mother hold her. Not when she felt so far gone.

“(Y/N), sweetheart,” her mom said, her voice cracking as she walked over, her hands trembling. “We’re just waiting for the doctors. They said he'll be here soon.”

(Y/N) forced a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She felt numb. Cold.

She sat down in the chair beside her mother, and Jiwoo took a step back, giving them some space. She didn’t say anything, but her presence was still there, steady and unwavering.

The minutes dragged on, each one feeling like an eternity. Every passing second felt like a reminder of how much was slipping away.

Finally, the door opened, and a doctor entered—tall, in his mid-forties, with a practiced, neutral expression. He looked like he had delivered this kind of news a thousand times. (Y/N) could already tell he wasn’t here to offer hope.

Her mother’s hand squeezed hers, but she didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say.

The doctor sat down at the table, opening a folder in front of him. He cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses before looking up at them.

“Mrs. (Y/L/N).. (Y/N),” he began, looking between both her mother and herself. "I’m afraid there’s not much more we can do.”

(Y/N) felt her heart drop into her stomach, as she squeezed her eyes shut in hopes that this was just a bad dream she can wake up from as the weight of his words hitting her like a punch to the chest. She couldn’t breathe.

Her father, who had fought so hard, who had always been the one to protect her, the one who had always been the pillar she leaned on—he was slipping away. And there was nothing anyone could do.

“We can offer palliative care,” the doctor continued, his voice even but sympathetic. “It will help manage his symptoms, but…” He trailed off, as if not needing to say the rest.

Her mother nodded slowly, her eyes already glassy. “We understand,” she whispered, voice shaky as she held back tears.

But (Y/N)? She couldn’t understand. She didn’t know how to understand. All she felt was the sharp pain of a life she couldn’t stop, a future that felt too dark and too cold to face.

“Thank you,” her mother said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

(Y/N) didn’t speak. She couldn’t. Words were stuck in her throat, too heavy to escape.

The doctor stood up to leave, but before he did, he looked at them one last time. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “We’ll give you some time. Take care of each other.”

And with that, he was gone.

The room felt empty, even with her mother beside her. The weight of the diagnosis hung in the air, suffocating, like it was pressing down on her chest.

Her mother was holding it together, just barely, but (Y/N) couldn't keep pretending she was okay when everything in her was breaking. "I don't know how to do this, Mom," (Y/N) whispered, her voice thick with tears. "I don't know how to do this without him."

Her mother wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. “We’ll find a way. Together, we’ll find a way.”

But (Y/N) wasn’t so sure anymore. She wasn’t sure there was a way. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep going, how much longer she could pretend to be strong for everyone else when the world around her was falling apart.

For the first time, she didn’t know if she could fight.

And yet, the fight had only just begun.

[justarithinnngs]

Spaces. (Squid Game x Player!Reader)

Chapter 1 - Dynasty

Warnings: death (character death), terminal illness, mentions of medical trauma, mental health struggles, emotional distress,

It was a perfect night. The kind that felt like it could stretch on forever—easy, light, and full of laughter. (Y/N) sat at the bar, leaning over to listen to her best friend, Jiwoo, as she rambled on about some guy she’d met earlier that evening. The music was loud, and the chatter was lively, but for a moment, everything felt right. (Y/N) could feel the hum of contentment in her chest, the steady beat of happiness she always found when she was with her friends.

“…And then, I swear, he tried to impress me with some lame pick-up line about my shoes,” Jiwoo laughed, her voice barely audible over the beat of the club. “Like I didn’t know exactly what he was doing.”

(Y/N) giggled, playfully nudging Jiwoo’s arm. “Classic. But hey, at least he tried, right? Most guys wouldn’t even bother.”

Across from her, Soojin joined in, raising her glass and grinning mischievously. “Maybe he thought your shoes were worth impressing. But knowing you, you probably just went along with it.”

(Y/N) laughed again, a soft, genuine sound that could be heard above the noise. It was the kind of laugh that made others smile, the kind that came easily to her. She loved moments like this—being surrounded by her closest friends, the ones who knew her better than anyone. The night stretched on, filled with shared jokes, teasing, and stories. In the midst of all this, (Y/N) was happy. She was light, unburdened, free.

But her friends knew something she didn’t always recognize herself.

“You’re too nice for your own good, you know that?” Jiwoo had said earlier in the night, a serious edge in her voice that was rare for her.

(Y/N) had smiled it off, tossing her hair back. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re always the one to look out for everyone,” Jiwoo had continued, a hint of concern creeping into her tone. “You’re always helping people, always trying to fix things. You need to be careful, (Y/N). It’s gonna catch up to you one day.”

(Y/N) had laughed it off, but deep down, she knew they were right. She was the one always trying to make everyone happy. The one who stayed up late to listen to someone’s problems, who would drop everything to help a friend in need. It wasn’t that (Y/N) minded. She couldn’t imagine being any other way. Her kindness was like a light, and it radiated from her in everything she did.

But now, as the night wound down and she stepped out into the crisp air with her friends, a sudden shift of unease began to settle deep in her gut.

“Are you okay to get home?” Soojin asked, her voice tinged with a touch of concern as she linked arms with (Y/N).

“Yeah, I’m good. Just a little tired, that’s all,” (Y/N) smiled, waving off any worry. “I’ll be fine.”

“Call me when you get home,” Jiwoo added, glancing at (Y/N) with a look that made her hesitate. “We love you, you know that?”

(Y/N) grinned at her friends, pulling them in for a tight hug. “I love you guys too. Now, go home and get some rest. I’ll be fine.”

But the moment she stepped inside her apartment, the weight of everything from the night seemed to press down on her, and she knew something was off. Her phone buzzed as soon as she closed the door behind her.

It was her mom.

(Y/N) had spoken to her mom earlier that day. She’d been worried about her dad, who’d been feeling increasingly unwell. His health had been declining for a while, but they hadn’t been able to figure out what was wrong. At first, they thought it was just stress. Then they thought it was something minor, maybe just exhaustion. But as the weeks went on, things weren’t improving, and now, it felt like the weight of it all was suffocating her.

She answered the call, trying to shake off the remnants of the night’s fun, bracing herself for the conversation.

“Hey, Mom. How’s Dad?” (Y/N) asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

There was a long pause on the other end, and then her mom’s voice came through, softer, more fragile than usual. “Sweetheart… We got the results back.”

The words hung in the air, a sharp sting that immediately made her heart race. “Results? What do you mean? What’s going on?”

Her mom took a shaky breath, and in that moment, (Y/N) felt her entire world tilt. “It’s… brain cancer, (Y/N). Your father… it’s brain cancer.”

There it was. The words hit her like a physical blow. Brain cancer. Those two words, so simple, yet so heavy, dropped like an anchor into her chest, pressing the air from her lungs.

She gripped the phone tighter, her fingers trembling. “No… No, that can’t be right. He’s… he’s been feeling sick, but not like that. Not—Mom, there’s got to be a mistake. Please, tell me there’s been a mistake.”

Her mother’s voice cracked. “I wish it were, honey. I wish it were a mistake. But… it’s not. The doctors—they said it’s advanced. We don’t know how much time we have.”

A hollow silence swallowed the room, and for a moment, (Y/N) couldn’t speak. Her breath came in shallow gasps, and all she could hear was the sound of her own heartbeat, thundering in her ears.

The world outside her apartment, the noise of the city, the memories of the night—everything blurred, faded into a hazy mist. Her heart felt like it was being squeezed in her chest, each beat slower, more painful than the last. Her mind couldn’t grasp what her mom had just said. Brain cancer? Her dad, the man who had taught her to ride a bike, the one who made her laugh so hard she’d cry, the one who held her when she was hurt… he was sick. So sick.

“No…” she whispered, her voice barely audible, cracking under the weight of it all. She sank down onto the couch, the phone still pressed to her ear, the words spinning in her mind like a broken record. No, no, no.

Her mom’s voice came through again, gentle, but full of sorrow. “I know, baby. I know it’s a lot. But we need to be strong now. We need to be there for him.”

(Y/N) shut her eyes, squeezing them tight, as if she could block out the reality of it all. But it didn’t help. It didn’t change anything.

She could feel the spark inside her—her energy, her light—slowly dimming. It wasn’t something that happened all at once. It wasn’t a switch being flipped. It was the slow, agonizing realization that her world had just shifted, irreversibly. She wasn’t the same girl who had been laughing with her friends just hours ago. That girl was gone.

Her voice cracked again, this time louder. “I… I don’t know what to do, Mom. I don’t know what to do.” Tears blurred her vision, and she wiped at her eyes frantically, but they just kept coming. “I can’t lose him. I can’t lose him. Please, Mom, please tell me there’s something we can do.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone, and for a moment, it felt like time itself had stopped. Then, her mom spoke, her voice trembling, but filled with quiet strength.

“We’ll fight, (Y/N). We’ll fight for him. We don’t know how much time we have, but we’ll fight. You’re not alone in this.”

But (Y/N) felt alone. She felt the weight of the world pressing down on her chest, and for the first time in a long time, she didn’t know how to keep going. The energy that had once been so full of life, so vibrant, felt hollow now. Her father, the one person who had always been her rock, was slipping away from her, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Her sobs echoed through the quiet apartment, her body wracked with grief she didn’t know how to handle. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. And she didn’t know how to fight against it.

She couldn’t be strong anymore. Not tonight. Not yet.