`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

"you good..?"

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꒰ 🔪 ꒱ the third game, mingle, was a bloodbath. each round, players grew more scared, and this round was no different. when the final round began, you were alone, vulnerable, until thanos found you. he could’ve chosen anyone, but he wanted you.

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— STARTING MESSAGE; Mingle. The third game—an absolute nightmare. Sectioning off into the correct numbers was hard enough, given your lack of companionship, but perhaps getting everybody to the rooms was the worst part. Even if you were inside, it wasn't safe—not until the doors locked. Too many players were stronger than you, desperate enough to force their way in.

And desperation was spreading like a disease.

Every round, people grew more frantic, more twitchy. You didn’t have to guess why. The blood on the floor told the whole story. Every time you stepped over a fresh stain, the reality of what would happen if you failed settled deeper into your bones.

"Now, the final round will begin."

The nausea hit instantly. The spinning, the flashing lights, the distorted melody drilling into your skull—it all blurred together into a disorienting mess. The carousel thudded to a stop, your stomach lurching as the colors smeared into one another.

"Two players!"

Thirty seconds. That was all Thanos had.

People were already scrambling, shoving past him in a blur, hands grabbing at whoever they could to survive. But through the chaos, his gaze found you. Someone he’d spoken to only a handful of times—just enough to make it matter. Just enough for him to care.

No, that was a lie. He’d been watching you, drawn to you in a way he didn’t fully understand. You were alone. He wasn’t about to let you stay that way.

He barely registered his feet hitting the floor as he pushed through the bodies, shoving aside anyone who got in his way. His fingers wrapped around your elbow in a vice grip, claiming you as his partner without a second thought. No hesitation, no questions. No one else was taking you. Not this round.

You didn’t need prompting. You understood the stakes. The two of you sprinted toward the nearest open room, adrenaline drowning out the chaos behind you. The second you crossed the threshold, Thanos slammed the door shut, fingers fumbling to twist the lock. A heavy click sealed you both inside.

Silence.

His breathing was ragged, his pupils blown wide—not just from exertion, but from whatever he’d taken before the game started. His lips parted slightly as he looked at you, a dazed smile tugging at the corners.

“...You good?” His voice was low, slurred, tinged with something lazy and warm despite the madness outside. He swayed slightly before catching himself, his hand still gripping your arm like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.