Slay Writing

POKER FACE

pairing - timeskip. sakusa kiyoomi x volleyball ref gn. reader

includes - college au, sakusa slowly losing his mind, lying (nothing bad i swear) if you squint, getting to know sakusa, new friendship things

a/n - i know this sounds weird and specific but i was reading a fic and an idea came to mind. hopefully it doesn't flop

Sakusa Kiyoomi is never late.

It's the first thing you've noticed about him since the start of the semester. The second thing is that he always looks put together.

So now as you sit on your assigned-unassigned spot in the lecture hall, the seat next to you empty and two minutes into the lecture, you wonder if something is wrong.

However, to everyone's surprise, a figure bursts through the door, immediately apologizing to the professor before beelining for his seat.

Heavy pants leave Sakusa's lips, almost as if he ran here, his curly hair slighty damp with sweat.

He plops on the chair unceremoniously and you have to hold in a laugh.

'Wow, what happened? You ran a marathon or something?'

'Practice.'

'Practice?'

You repeat the word with interest, one eyebrow rising and urging him to elaborate.

'Volleyball practice.'

'Oh?'

The professor's loud voice redirects both of your attention towards her, but you tuck away this sliver of information for later.

-

Sakusa was always rather intriguing to you. His blutness, his confidence, his disinterest for others. Even though he sounds repulsive, with you it was always the opposite.

Despite the forming friendship, if you can call it that, outside of class the two of you didn't really talk much. But you can't help yourself when you see him leaving the campus' gym one saturday morning.

Gradually speeding up you reach him in a matter of seconds, noticing the surprise on his stupidly handsome face.

'Hi!'

'What are you doing here? I've never seen you up before eleven.'

'I have work.'

Sakusa doesn't ask what you do so you don't clarify. Instead, you start a conversation while he walks back towards his dorm, presumably for a nap, and you towards the parking lot.

Just before you part ways, it's like a switch goes off in your head and you spin towards Sakusa so fast he nearly stumbles back.

'Oh, yeah! I almost forgot. Do you have any upcoming games this month?'

One of his perfect eyebrows arches up suspiciously but your smile is unwavering.

'We're playing against another university next week. Why?'

'No reason ~'

Before he even has a chance to question you further, you speedwalk towards your car, effectively hiding your triumphant giggle.

-

By the time the game finally rolls around, Sakusa has forgotten all about that weird interaction.

He's in the familiar locker room, pulling on the MSBY jersey over his head. Atsumu and Hinata are talking about something not too far away, and Bokuto walks into the room, bright and cheery despite being very late.

They step onto the court, following Meian's instructions immediately and starting their warm-up. When he's on the court, that's the only thing Sakusa cares about. Unlike Atsumu for example, he doesn't care for the crowd, doesn't care for anyone at the moment who isn't on his team.

The sound of a whistle blowing indicates that the captain's should make their approach, and for whatever reason, Sakusa looks in that direction.

His jaw almost cracked from how far it dropped when his eyes landed on you. You were standing in front of the two men, in official FIVB uniform, whistle hanging around your neck, looking professional and serious.

Sakusa blinks. Once. Twice. Three times.

You're still there. You haven't noticed him yet, or maybe you did but you don't care, and he's at a complete loss. Only once the captains start making their way back to their respective sides do you finally look at him, eyes twinkling with mischief and a hint of a smile on your lips.

-

The Black Jackals win, unsurprisingly. However, Sakusa isn't sure how he managed to score as many points as he did, since he was being watched like a hawk the entire time.

Of course it's your job, but still.

He has to wait outside the gym before you and your colleagues finally exit the building before he has a chance to talk to you.

When you step outside you immediately notice his figure lingering and you laugh on the inside, biding your colleagues goodbye before making your way over to him.

'Congratulations on the win.'

Your tone is too smug and it turns Sakusa's glare into a scowl.

'What the fuck?'

This is the first time you hear him curse and it takes all of your willpower not to snort.

'What? You did win, no?'

'That's not what I meant and you know it.'

'It's not?'

If you keep up this innocent and clueless charade, Kiyoomi might just lose his mind.

'When were you gonna tell me you were a fucking volleyball ref?'

Fueling his fire, you shrug nonchalantly.

'You never asked.'

Sakusa opens his mouth to retort, but after a second gives up, knowing that he would've made the same exact remark in your position.

He hates you.

'Is this why you asked me about the game last weekend? Isn't that a conflict of interest?'

'None of my superiors know we're classmates. And if they did they wouldn't know we're friends. So technically, no.'

That satisfied smile on yourself makes him want to kiss it off- no. Slap it off. Anything other than kiss. What the fuck?

He shakes his head to try and get rid off...whatever this is, before he huffs.

'Fine. Have it your way. I'll see you in class then.'

Something about confused Sakusa will always be amusing to you. Just as you're about to leave the premises, you catch a glimpse of orange and yellow in your peripheral vision, silently praying for Sakusa's well-being.

part 2?

me on my way back to paradis after reiner shows me that wall maria isn’t the only thing he can plow into

coach ukai

ukai keishin is a creature of habit.

he always buys the same brand of cigarettes, and the same colour lighter. he has used the exact same brand of soap since he was a kid. when he makes his coffee in the morning he always adds the same amount of milk, one sugar, stirs it three times clockwise and once in the opposite direction, blows on it twice, and then takes his first sip.

so imagine your surprise the day you walk into sakanoshita market and ukai keishin, creature of habit, your perfectly predictable boyfriend of four and a half years, is nowhere to be found.

because there's no way that the man standing behind the counter, apron on, twirling a cigarette between his fingers, with neatly combed brown hair is him.

it looks a lot like him, to be sure.

the same gentle slope of his nose, the same sharp brown eyes that light up when he spots you stepping through the door, the same little smile that you've seen curl up an identical set of lips countless times.

"what the hell did you do?"

the man who looks like (but is definitely not) ukai keishin's smile falters.

"hello to you too, sweetheart," he half-says, half-laughs. "what a terrible way to greet someone."

alright, this might be keishin.

"your hair," you finally take a step into the store, towards the counter, eyes still fixed on the head of hair that looks a lot like your boyfriend's but definitely isn't, because it isn't the same shade of peroxide yellow that Keishin had been dying it since the two of you were in high school.

the hand not fiddling with the cigarette reaches up to touch the brunette locks atop his head, though he's careful not to tousle them too much.

"you don't like it?" he asks, an uncharacteristic lilt of insecurity in his voice.

you pause.

"I... I just... give me a second," you say, pinching the bridge of your nose. you draw a few deep breaths in, eyes closed, before looking at him again.

"so?" he says, an eyebrow (that for the first time in over ten years matches the shade of hair on his head) cocked. "what's the verdict?"

you step up to the counter, reaching out across it to run your fingers through the strands. they're softer than they'd ever been, and a little shorter too -- having clearly been freshly trimmed.

"you look..." you grapple for the right words. "really hot."

and you know without a shadow of a doubt that the man on the other side of the counter couldn't be anyone other than ukai keishin when you see the smile -- wide and toothy -- that stretches across his handsome face.

"you think so?" he asks, dropping his unlit cigarette in the ashtray in front of him, circling the counter to wrap you in his arms. there's no one around, so you let him -- though you're not sure an audience would have stopped you, anyway.

you can only nod as he holds you tight against him, smiling down at you with that same grin.

"why the sudden change?" you ask him, hands pressed against the front of his apron as your eyes search his face.

"well..." keishin looks away, his cheeks puffing out a little as he mulls over his response. "we're getting older you know -- can't have you walking around looking like you're dating a delinquent forever."

"but you were a cute delinquent," you laugh, pressing a kiss to the corner of his pursed lips.

"and I had something important to do today, too. wanted to clean myself up a bit for it," Keishin adds, his eyes scanning your face. the playful look from a moment prior has melted away, and as you stare up at him, you're reminded just how very handsome of a man that boy from your high school volleyball team has grown up to be.

your brows knit together in confusion. "oh yeah?" you ask, pulling away slightly. "and what was that?"

"I went to see your parents," keishin said, eyes fixed unwaveringly to yours, "to see if maybe instead of you dating a delinquent they'd be alright with you marrying one who was reformed."

What Do We Call This? - Masterlist

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x fem!reader

Summary: On a quest to find what you've been looking for, you acquire the help of the Straw Hat pirates, who've agreed to let you temporarily join them. There are however many challenges that come along with your temporary recruitment - an alliance with a certain Trafalgar Law being one of them.

Warnings: fluff, angst, kinda slow burn, swearing, OP spoilers.

01 || 02

INFINITELY YOU SERIES MASTERLIST // link to general masterlist here

🕷️ SUMMARY - In every universe, Peter Parker seems destined to fall in love with you. And, in every universe, he realizes it too late. When universes collide and two of them are granted a second chance at rectifying their biggest mistake, neither of them are willing to let the opportunity go to waste–even if you end up not being the person they thought you were.

🕸️ WARNINGS - story will contain mentions of blood, broken bones, weapons, suggestive language, and more. all versions of peter are between the ages of 19-23 in this story. I will try to update warnings accordingly for each chapter, but please read at your own discretion

PART ONE // back at the beginning

PART TWO // crullers & constants

akaashi keiji: childhood friends is a language on its own

gn!reader, reader is sad, title summarizes everything, wc 356

when kuroo entered the gym, he certainly didn’t expect another figure next to akaashi that isn’t bokuto, much less have said figure’s head on akaashi’s shoulder. you have your face buried on your palms, with akaashi nodding sagely.

“ugh,” you whine. “uuggghhhh!”

“yes, y/n-san. i know.”

“keiji, it was so uughh.”

“is that so?”

you start grumbling more noises. kuroo thinks you’re actually speaking, but all that comes out is a series of ouuurgggh. bokuto hums thoughtfully in response from kuroo’s side; if he’s trying to understand why you’re grumbling or what you’re trying to say, kuroo doesn’t want to know.

akaashi frowns, decoding your words. “that’s not nice.”

“ouuuuuuuaargh.” kuroo feels crazy.

“please calm down,” akaashi says softly.

kuroo blinks, finally gaining sense. “the fuck is up with those two?”

bokuto grins proudly. “they’re childhood friends!” he says as if that explains everything. no, it makes it worse, actually. kuroo didn’t even know akaashi had a childhood friend.

kuroo blinks again, with more feeling. “so are kenma and i but we didn’t gain telepathy.”

yamaguchi and tsukishima come in a few seconds later, watching the scene before them for a beat. then yamaguchi turns to the blond, eyes wide.

“tsukki, do you think we could do that?”

tsukishima actually gives it some thought. “no. that’s the same as attempting the freak quick.” yamaguchi seems to understand.

you look up from your palm, peeking at the boys. your eyes are puffy and you pull the jacket -- kuroo only now realized it belonged to akaashi -- closer to yourself. akaashi curls a protective arm around you.

“keiji,” is all you mumble, your voice soft as a whisper.

kuroo watches as akaashi, with uncharacteristic fierceness, glare at them. bokuto yelps, standing up straight -- kuroo probably made the same noise, recoiling at the assault akaashi’s eyes attacked them with. he shushes them all with a finger.

akaashi sighs, facing you. “we’ll get a snack, i promise. don’t make that face, please.” you don’t say anything else, only knocking your forehead against his shoulder and mumbling something incoherent no one but akaashi understands, but kuroo thinks that akaashi’s soft smile means it’s okay.

fr tho why is everything smut😭😭 i wanna read angst that would ruin me, make me sick to my stomach and cry like there's no tomorrow bro i want a fanfic that is so devastating that i won't be able to function for the next few months

hello!! thank you so much for the support in my hwang in-ho x fem! reader—crossroads. for those who haven't read it yet, you might want to check it out here. (20.3k words 👀)

i currently have 3 fanfics on the making, but I want to know which one you would like me to post first!

edit:

kang dae-ho x gn! reader is ALREADY POSTED !! see here !!

hwang in-ho x fem! reader is ALSO POSTED!! see here !!

hwang in-ho x fem! reader, wherein childhood friends reunite under the most dangerous circumstances.

kang dae-ho x gn! reader, wherein you never expected to see your highschool sweetheart— let alone in a deadly game. POSTED ALREADY <3

the salesman x fem! reader, wherein a hangout at your coworkers house turns into something more. (no full-on smut, but it will have smut-ish undertones/sexual tension, sorry ☹️)

gn = gender-neutral, usage of they/them so everyone can enjoy :) feel free to request gender specific readers though!

the one with the most votes will be posted first, followed by the second and then the third. :>

for those who sent in requests, thank you also! I'll be doing those once I finished these three 🫡. I'll also be merging some requests if that's fine with you.

requests are still open btw! feel free to send an ask. I do all the characters! both season 1 and 2. I might refuse smut requests though I'm so sorry, I'm not that confident in writing full on smut requests. maybe in the future :) ?

thanks again for the support!

My Brother’s best Friend

Mattsukawa x Reader - requested by @shoulmate for the Haikyuu Request Game

Mild Angst to Fluff, 3700 words (my hand slipped)

You’re not all that fond of your teenage years. 

But maybe that’s just he curse of teenage life, to cringe looking back.

You're the little sister, two years between you and Toruu, twelve between you and Suzu.

With that age gap, it's only natural that you’d cling to Toruu more and beg him to take you on his adventures.

There are times you think he only did that because Iwa had a soft spot for you.

-

“Can you stop?” Toruu’s standing in the door to your room, wiping dirt of his trousers as you cry.

“But I wanna come!” 

“I don’t want you around all the time! We’re going to catch bugs and you think they’re disgusting.”

“Do not!”

“Do too! You just want to come because you think Iwa-chan is cute.”

“Do not!”

“Do too! You’re in love with him.” He singsongs the last part and you grab your pillow, throw it at him with all the strength a six-year-old can muster.

“Guys!” Your mom calls up from the doorway. “Iwa-chan is here. Are you ready?”

“I’m ready. She’s not coming.”

Toruu races down the stairs but you’re quick to follow him, wiping away your tears as you run.

“But I wanna come.”

Iwa’s wearing jeans that have been cut off at the knees, something you’ve begged your mom for two weeks already with no avail. 

He’s sending you a tooth-gaped smile, offering you a lollipop as if he’s handing out secrets.

“I don’t mind.” He says. “Besides, she behaves better than you, Oink-kawa.”

“She does not!” Toruu exclaims with his usual dramatics, getting more into it when he sees Iwa roll his eyes and smile at you as if you’re sharing a joke he’s not in on.

“Do too.” You stick out your tongue.

-

You see the Volleyball under Toruus arm and jump out of your bed.

“Training? I’m coming with you.”

He rolls his eyes in mock annoyance.

“You’re not even interested in volleyball. You’re just coming to see Iwa-chan.”

“No, I’m just there for Kageyama.”

Toruu fake gags and you throw your shoe at him, regretting it right away when he catches it and flings it up the stairs.

“Well, looks like you won’t make it in time.”

“Toruu, you ass!” You yell but he’s already out the door.

You do make it in time, mainly because Toruu keeps forgetting that you’ve joined the track team.

-

Kageyama is cute.

Not as cute as Iwa-chan, but no boy is worth the hissy fits Toruu throws when he thinks you’re spending too much time with his best friend. 

Calling Kageyama cute or agreeing to pass the ball to him still riles your brother up, but in a much safer way.

You don’t want to wake up with a shaved head or anything like that.

-

Somewhere along the lines you’ ve become a babysitter.

To Toruu, because he keeps neglecting his health in favor of beating Shittyjima and to Kageyama, because no one else is willing to spare him a minute of their time.

You know you’re not the right fit for either role.

After all, you can only handle so much.

You know Toruu doesn’t really mean to push you away whenever you come to his room. To remind him that he needs to eat, or get to bed on time, or to ask if he minds passing the ball to you.

It still hurts.

You know your parents don’t really mean anything by it when match after match passes without them attending. They’re busy, especially with helping Suzu now that she’s back at work and needs help babysitting.

But it hurts, even more when there’s no match of Toruu they’ve ever missed.

You know that Kageyama isn’t as mean as everyone pretends him to be. 

His social skills are worse than his grades and you’re the one tutoring him in your freetime.

But it still hurts when he’s yelling, reminding you that whatever you do, no matter how hard you try, you’ll never measure up to your big brother.

-

Seijoh is good for Toruu.

He’s still a dick when it comes to volleyball, but he’s got more friends than just Iwa now. 

There’s Hanamaki and Matsukawa now, or Maki and Mattsun as they like to be called.

They seem to have a soft spot for you too, but unlike Iwa they dare to tease you too.

-

“Oi, princess, you have dropped something.” Mattsun calls out when you walk past them studying in the kitchen.

“What?” You turn, confused. The only thing you were carrying was the glass of water that’s still firmly in your hand.

He bows down to pick something from the floor and holds it up to your face, hand closed around it.

His voice is nasally as he speaks, the dramatic flair almost too overdone. “My heart, mylady.”

When he opens his hand, he’s holding a bug.

The first time it happened you’d squealed in surprise.

But you grew up with a nuisance for a brother and recognize that plastic shine everywhere.

“Oh, I missed you.” You tell the fake bug, pick it out of his hand and fling it into your mouth, swallowing it whole.

An impressed smile dances around Mattsun's lips while Toruu gags in the corner.

“Nice.” Makki whispers somewhere on your side while Iwa brings out the important information.

“That one was real.” He says.

You roll your eyes and take a sip from your water, pretending to be less grossed out than you are.

“Grow up, boys.”

-

“Oi, Oikawa-chan.” 

Makki’s leaning in the doorframe, one arm up to showcase his biceps - the little fucker knows exactly what he’s doing. Half your class is ogling him already but you ignore him as you trudge over.

“What?” You ask.

He stretches out one hand, too quick to dodge, and pinches your cheek.

“Is that the right way to greet your senpai?”

You’re just as quick to stab your hand into his side, aiming for his sensitive ribs.

“Fuck.” He curses when you hit him where it hurts.

“Language.” Class president yells somewhere behind you and you push Makki out the door before you can get detention for his wrongdoings.

“What do you want?”

“Can’t I just come see you when I want?”

“You can, but that way I’ll never get a boyfriend. Now, spill.”

He grins and offers you a piece of chewing gum before actually telling you what he came for.

“I was sent to ask if anyone wants to apply for the manager position. We want to do it lowkey since Shittykawa is so popular.”

“Yeah, no, not doing that. I’m already part of the Girl’s Volleyball Club.”

He grunts. “Not you. The boys want someone pretty- Stop that!” He steps away just in time to avoid another hit.

“You know your peers. Pick someone who’s not going to faint at the sight of your brother.”

“Easy. Oba Makoto. He’s got heart problems and can’t do sports but he knows a lot about Volleyball. He’s tried hitting on me twice, so he’s probably got some taste and won’t fall for my brother.”

Makki pulls a face. “A boy? Ah, well, okay, I'll bring it up. We’re going out for ice cream after school. Do you want to pretend to be Mattsun’s date?”

“Again? Toruu’s not going to buy it.”

“True, true. We can put fake spider’s in his ice cream?” 

You ponder the offer for a moment. “Eh, it’s too soon to pull that kind of prank again. Besides, I should hit the gym after school. First years have to make an impression.”

“Fine. But you’re going as Mattsun’s date this weekend. There’s someone from my class who thinks he can’t pull girls and we have to set him straight.”

You roll your eyes. “Why would I do that?”

Makki grins deviously. “I have blackmail material?”

You shudder. “Fine. Text me the details later. I’ve got to get back to class.”

-

Iwa has the decency to say goodbye before he leaves for America.

It crushes the tiny bit of hope you’d nursed in the week - or so - since the news of Toruu’s upcoming departure. Without your brother here to supervise you, you could have explored what was left of your crush on him.

“You did a good job.” He says, awkwardly rubbing his neck as he stares at the trophies littering your shelves.

“Yeah, sure, I’m not bad.” You agree halfheartedly but he shakes his head.

“Not Volleyball, or the other stuff. I mean… with Oikawa. And Kageyama. You did what you could, I know.”

“Don’t.” You get up before he can tell you more stuff that you don’t need to hear. You don’t want him to talk about things like that. It makes you feel like you’ve done it all for his approval. In reality, you did it to have friends, to stay close to your brother.

And look how that turned out.

“Just hug me.” You tell Iwa, well aware that Toruu’s going to barge in any second, still immensely jealous of his friends. Well aware that your parents only allow Iwa in your room because there’s nothing going to happen. Ever.

You allow yourself to cry a little bit over it, but only when he’s gone and Toruu’s bedroom door has closed behind him too.

-

College is so much harder than you thought it would be.

You barely make it onto the Volleyball team, you’re behind on your reading, your assignments, cleaning your room.

All you want is to go home for the weekend and hide under your sheets until mom calls for dinner.

Instead you dress up for a party you don’t want to go to, invited by a guy you can’t even remember the name off.

But he’s two years older than you and the thought that he could be interested - and that Toruu’s not here to ruin it - is exhilarating.

-

Hours later you stumble down the stairs outside, the world spinning around you.

You’re going to throw up any second, you think, or crash into something.

Someone grabs your arm instead and you turn, hand raised to slap whoever’s daring to touch you.

“Whoa, princess, chill! It’s me.”

There’s only one person in the world calling you that.

“Mattsun?” You blink up at him, half of his face light up by a streetlamp. It’s him, but he looks concerned.

“You’re not okay?” You ask him, your tongue struggling to form the words.

“I should ask you that.”

“‘m fine.” You stagger a bit. “Just… need to throw up, I think.”

“When’s the last time you ate something?” 

Why does he wanna know, you wonder, as you try to figure out the answer to his question.

“Well, I had breakfast. And they had some crackers inside, but they tasted awful.”

“Yeah, come on.” He pulls you forward slightly, slinging one arm around your back to keep you upright. “Let’s go get you something to eat. What do you think of Chicken Nuggets?”

“Yay,” you sway slightly as you try to do a happy dance, “Chicken Nuggies!”

-

Maybe it’s the bright light or the fact that the world has stopped spinning after Chicken Nuggets, fries and two cups of coffee, but Mattsun looks worried as he watches you dip the last of his fries into the ketchup.

He also looks older and taller, if that’s even possible.

“Why were you at that party?” He asks.

You shrug. “Got invited.”

He sighs. “But drinking? You’re what-”

“I’m nineteen,” you remind him, “Two years younger than you.”

He looks unconvinced and you lean forward to glare at him. 

“You threw up on Toruu when you were 17, piss drunk after trying my father’s sake.”

He has the decency to blush at the memory.

Silence falls over the two of you.

It’s a comfortable silence, even after so much time passing. 

You’ve barely seen Mattsun in the last two years. He’s been at your graduation, Makki too. But it had always felt a bit forced, wether it was them watching one of your matches or taking you out to ice cream on a random tuesday after school because they were College boys and could afford it.

It always felt like the shadow of your brother kept looming over you, reminding you that he was supposed to be at the table with you, Iwa included.

Mattsun clears his throat and you look up, surprised at the serious look on his face.

“Oikawa is going to kill me for this,” he mumbles before raising his voice to a normal volume. “What’s your schedule like? We could go to the cinema this weekend. There’s this new movie from that series you’ve always watched?”

You blink, surprised that he noticed that. He’s never been one for movies, not like Makki and you. He’d always rather stayed in and watched a rerun of his favorite series or blackmail Toruu to let you play Mario Kart with the four of them.

“Sure. Makki coming too?”

He blushes again, but this time without obvious reason.

“No. It would be just the two of us.”

You blink again. “Do I have to pretend to be your girlfriend? Do you know someone working at the Cinema?”

The sigh Mattsun lets out could move mountains.

“What?” You ask, defensively.

“I’m asking you out. On a date. A real date.” He presses the words out between his teeth, his hands already in his hair, pulling at the strands in thinly veiled despair.

“Oh.” You make. Then. “Oh?” And “OH!”

“Yeah.” The smile he’s giving you looks painful. 

“But-” You start, but close your mouth again, too stunned to speak.

Mattsun rubs at a spot of dried ketchup on the table, his face the colour of Makki’s hair.

“Like, I’ve been trying to for years, but you always ask if Makki’s coming too. And I thought I’d have more time to get you to like me like that, but you’re already going to parties you probably shouldn’t be at and, well, better shoot my shot now and get an honest reaction than just keep hoping, right?”

There are a million things you want to say, and a million more you want to ask.

But in a way, it all makes sense, looking back.

How he’s always called you princess, has always been the only one doing it.

The fact that he’s never missed a game of yours or had a really good excuse.

Makki always having an excuse to get you to pretend you’re Mattsun’s girlfriend.

Iwa might have been your first crush but you’d always been closer to Mattsun than any of them, even your brother.

You laugh at the absurdity of it, how you’ve been to blind to see it until you. 

“Toruu would hate that.” You say and realize, just as you say it, that you don't care. "Sure. Let's go out."

You stretch your hand out to shake his, to press his absurdly large hand, and grin mischievously back at him.

“But let’s keep it a secret from him. Just for now. I want something just for the two of us.”

The smile that’s growing on his face now, slow at first, but faster by the second, is something you’ve never seen before. Something you want to see again and again and again.

-

"Makki knows," Mattsun tells you as you wait in line for the popcorn.

You'd been obsessing over what to wear for hours, even going as far as to text some of the girls from your high school Volleyball team.

"So you finally started caring?" One of them asked and you'd chewed on that thought up until the moment Mattsun knocked on your door, his hair messed up just the right amount, his cheeks a little pinker than usual.

"He's not going to tell Toruu or Iwa, is he?"

"Nah." Mattsun shakes his head and if his hand brushes yours on accident, it stays where it is, the warmth of his hand seeping into yours.

You kiss him in the middle of the movie, not caring for whatever is happening on the screen.

He tastes like the candies you used to share on your fake dates in High School and the hopeful thrill of the future.

-

"Hey, Princess." Mattsun's waiting outside the gym, his large hand enclosing yours as you step closer and he bends down to press a kiss to your lips. "Great game."

"Thanks, I know." You wave at the girls leaving, some of them waving back at you.

"You look tired." You tell Mattsun as he leads you down the street towards the bus station, your hands swinging between you.

"That internship is kicking my ass." He tells you, his thumb rubbing over the back of your hand. "And I still need to write that assignment I told you about."

"You haven't finished yet?"

"No." He yawns loudly. "But I took some notes while you were warming up."

"Babe." You stop in front of the subway entrance and look up at him. "I love that you come to all my games, but that assignment is more important."

He smiles. "I love when you get all serious."

"I love you." 

Pink floods his cheeks at your words. You're surprised, that they slipped out just like that, but you're not taking them back, too sure of their truth.

"You know." He mumbles awkwardly, "I always thought you had a crush on Iwa. Makki was the one shipping the two of us."

“I did have a crush on him.” You agree, your hand pressing his to let him know there’s more coming. “When I was, I don’t know, seven years old?”

Mattsun’s face lights up with one of his cheekiest grins. “What? You were not into his biceps?”

“Nah. Turns out I’m more into idiots who tell me fun facts about embalming.”

His smile turns wicked. “Yeah? Guess what; I’ve got some you probably haven’t heard yet.”

-

It’s one of those mornings where not enough sleep does not mix well with trying to act human.

A phone rings somewhere on your left and you grab it, trying to silence the alarm without looking. Instead you hear the well known sound of a video call connecting.

Your brain isn’t as quick as the internet these days and you’re still blinking into the camera as Iwa blinks back, less tired but more confused.

“I thought I called Mattsun-” He starts at the same time reality introduces itself to your brain. You fling the phone through the room and it lands on the carpet next to the door, the call still connected.

You scramble out of bed, well aware now that you look like you’ve spent the night not sleeping - it’s the upcoming exams, you swear - wearing one of Mattsun’s old shirts.

Iwa’s still calling your name and you pick up the phone again, staring at him with as much determination as you can muster.

“No word to Toruu.”

He looks as tired as you’ve felt just minutes ago. “Sure. Sure. I don’t even wanna know. Can you bring Mattsun on the call?” 

-

“Hey Princess,” Mattsun greets you when you stumble through the door of his shared apartment, bags of groceries in your hands.

“Hey.” You stand on your tiptoes to kiss him on the lips, handing half of the bags to him. “I got the new Ramen you like.”

“Get a room.” Makki groans from the kitchen table where he’s working on assignments.

“Sure.” You tell him, “But the walls aren’t soundproof.”

“Not fair.” He whines. “Why don’t I have a girlfriend?”

“No clue.” You tell him as you start unpacking. “Maybe it’s because you have no job?”

“An unflattering hairstyle?” Mattsun offers.

“Because you chew with your mouth open?”

“Because you always lose in Mario Kart?”

Makki huffs at that. “The disrespect I have to endure in my own home. Oh, Shittykawa is calling.” He picks up before you can tell him not to, leaving you to dive under the kitchen counter. 

Mattsun is left standing next to you, hiding his laughter at your situation in his palm as he nudges you with his foot.

“I’m gonna bite you.” You tell him, showcasing your teeth.

“Sure, if that’s your kink.” Mattsun teases, only for Makki to yell “I told you to get a room!” 

This time, however, Toruu hears it too.

“Who’re you talking to?”

“Eh. Mattsun’s girlfriend.”

“Mattsun has a girlfriend?” You can hear your brother’s voice clearly, the curiosity in his voice. 

Just above your head, Mattsun wiggles his fingers, a silent sign for you to take his hand and get up, to let go of that secret. After all, everyone else already knows.

And what’s Toruu even gonna do? He’s all the way in Argentina.

That’s the thought that pushes you to grip his hand and shoot up from behind the kitchen counter, mischievous grin on your lips.

“You called?” You ask.

“Is that my sister?” Toruu’s voice reaches a height you’ve never heard before.

Makki looks at you, sees you nod and turns his laptop so that you and Mattsun are in full view.

“If you don’t like it, that’s your problem.” Your voice is calm but your heart still races.

“But I thought you liked Iwa.” Your brother just looks confused.

You laugh, wholeheartedly, mountains toppling off your chest. “Dude, you’re so bad at reading women, it’s no surprise you’re still chasing a ball.”

Toruu gapes at you. “The disrespect.” He calls out. “Mattsun! I thought you were my friend!”

“Nah.” Mattsun grins and pulls you closer. “I know which Oikawa I’m picking.”

“Makki?” Toruu asks, his pout even audible in his voice.

“Depends on if she’s cooking tonight,” Makki tells him. “I can be bought with good food.”

“You can cook yourself.” You tell him and he pulls a face.

“And I’m Shittykawa’s friend again.”

You listen to them talk on with only half an ear, distracted by the way Mattsun grins down at you.

“What?” You ask.

“Went better than expected?” He asks. You shrug. His grin grows.

“What?” You ask.

Instead of an answer, he leans down to kiss you. You step on your tiptoes in anticipation, meeting him halfway.

Somewhere behind you, you hear the sentence that has grown to be the soundtrack of your relationship, now spoken by two voices instead of one.

“Get a room!”

my Kofi if you want to tip me

resurface | kang dae-ho x gn! reader

*.✧ synopsis: after years of heartbreak and betrayal, you’ve learned to bury your emotions to survive. but when your high school sweetheart, kang dae-ho, unexpectedly appears in the deadly game you're also in, the walls you built around your heart begin to crack. As past and present collide, survival becomes about more than just staying alive *.✧ word count: 10.1k (yeah) *.✧ warnings: squidgame season 2 spoilers, violence, death, trauma, toxic relationships, cursing, fluff, angst. your number is 389. *.✧ note: dae-ho won against in-ho by just .2%! thank you all so much for the support. my in-ho fanfic reached 1K notes already, while 1k+ of you participated in my poll! I'm very thankful for the support :> i was in the middle of editing in-ho's fic when the polls finished, when i saw how close the votes were i laughed. luckily i only needed to tweak a bit in this fic for it to be done. enjoy reading!! >:) dae-ho is such a cutiee!! long italicized texts are flashbacks. masterlist | request here

“Shit, I just moved didn’t I?” Player 196 asked in a lighthearted tone after swatting the bee that landed on her. Before anyone could answer, she dropped dead to the ground, a bullet from god knows where piercing through her skull.

The area erupted in chaos as players realized the horrific truth: to be eliminated meant death. Others tried to make a desperate run for it, while some froze, paralyzed from fear, and you were one of them. 

Your eyes trailed down to the corpse laying a few feet in front of you. Your heart dropped. That could’ve been you.

You should've trusted your gut. You should’ve known that whatever bullshit that shady man in a suit said was too good to be true. But here you were, paying the price of your stupid decisions.

The air was thick with panic as a bloody massacre unfolded before your eyes. People who ran got shot left and right, while those who stayed survived. Once it cleared those who moved, the mechanical doll turned around, its eerie voice rising in song. The players were too stunned to move. Only one person had the courage to act—Player 456. With unwavering resolve, they ran ahead and instructed you all to hide behind someone bigger than you.

The rest of you followed suit, moving quickly. You ended up behind Player 230—Thanos, a rapper drowning in 1.19 billion won of debt. You didn’t trust him, and your instincts proved right. As the game progressed, he shoved people ahead of him, ending their lives without hesitation. Yet, you had to give him some credit: the man could hold a pose.

One by one, players crossed the finish line. As the timer reached 0, the hellish game finally ended. You were shaking, your body trembling with the aftershock, but at least you were still alive. The guards escorted everyone back to the main area, where the survivors collapsed to their knees, begging for mercy, begging to go home. You could hear them, desperate, pleading. It was almost unbearable.

“There must’ve been a misunderstanding,” the square guard’s voice rang out, cutting through the despair. His tone was flat and devoid of emotion. “We are not trying to harm you. We are presenting you with an opportunity.”

His words did little to reassure anyone. Your eyes rolled at their response. Misunderstanding my ass! The chance of survival, of escape, felt more like a cruel joke than anything else. But before the guard could continue, a voice rose above the rest, sharp and commanding.

“Clause three of the consent form!” Player 456 called out, his voice filled with defiance.

Everyone turned to look at him, some surprised, others hopeful. You were no different. You hadn’t expected anyone to stand up in this situation. You didn’t even know what clause three was, you skipped that part and immediately signed the form, but there was something in the way he spoke that made you believe he knew more than the rest of you.

“The games may be terminated upon a majority vote, correct?” he demanded, his eyes never leaving the guard.

The square guard responded without missing a beat, his tone unchanged. “That is correct.”

“Then let us take a vote right now,” Player 456 pressed, his voice firm and unyielding.

There was a brief silence before the guard spoke again, acknowledging the request with a chilling calmness. “Of course, we respect your right to freedom of choice.” He paused, and in that moment, you could feel the hope that had been buried deep inside everyone start to stir. It wasn’t much, but it was something. “But first, let me announce the prize amount that has been accumulated.”

With the press of a button, the room shifted. The cold, sterile space took on a strange new color, bathed in a soft, eerie glow. A massive piggy bank, almost comically large, descended from the ceiling, its mechanical limbs creaking with the weight. The sound of bills filling it echoed through the room, a surreal sound that only added to the strangeness of the moment. It felt like something out of a twisted casino, a game that didn’t care about the lives it destroyed, only the money it could accumulate.

“The number of players eliminated in the first game is 91,” the guard continued, as the money filled the piggy bank at a steady pace. “Therefore, a total of 9.1 billion won has been accumulated. If you choose to quit the games now, the 365 remaining players can equally divide the 9.1 billion won and leave with your share.”

“How much is that?” Player 100 asked.

“Each person’s share would be 24,931,500 won,” the guard answered flatly, almost as if it was an insignificant amount.

You could hear the gasps of disbelief that rippled through the crowd. It was hard to wrap your mind around it. You almost died for that? The amount seemed insignificant compared to the terror you’d experienced. You could hear others murmuring, their frustration and disbelief growing louder. What good was 24 million won when you had been pushed to the brink of death, when you had witnessed so much suffering?

“Twenty million? You said 45.6 billion!” Player 230 shouted, his voice filled with outrage.

The guard’s response was cold, calculated. “The rule was that a hundred million won would be accumulated for each eliminated player. If you choose to play the next game, and more players are eliminated, the prize amount will increase accordingly.”

The answer felt hollow, like an empty promise that was meant to keep you on the hook.

“Then how much will it be if you survive until the very end?” someone asked, their voice tinged with desperation.

“As I already told you, the total prize money for all 456 players is 45.6 billion won. Those who make it through all six games will equally divide the 45.6 billion won.”

A hush fell over the room, as the reality of the prize set in. 45.6 billion won. It was an obscene amount of money. The sum felt impossible, unreal. But at the same time, it was exactly what so many of you needed. The temptation of that massive prize loomed in the air, a beacon in the darkness. Could you really leave with only 24 million? Was that all your life was worth?

“So, if you’re the only one to survive, you get 45.6 billion won?” Player 230 asked, as if the question needed to be confirmed, just to make sure he hadn’t misunderstood.

“That is correct,” the guard answered, his voice detached, like it was just another part of the game.

For a brief moment, the room seemed to breathe in unison. The weight of the prize, the gravity of the situation, pressed down on everyone. People began to murmur among themselves, the excitement in their voices unmistakable. The idea of that unimaginable sum of money—more than they had ever seen in their lives—became a tangible thing in the air. People who had been trembling in fear moments before now looked around, their eyes glinting with a new kind of hunger. The atmosphere shifted, the air thick with the scent of greed and desperation.

“So we can take a vote again and decide to leave after the next game?” someone asked, voice laced with uncertainty, but also with a flicker of hope.

“As promised in the consent form, you can take a vote after each game and decide to leave with the prize money accumulated up to that point,” the guard confirmed. “We always prioritize your voluntary actions.”

The voting began, and the room filled with tension once again. Player 456  was the first one to vote. He stepped forward, pressing X without hesitation. Others followed, some pressing X, others O. When your turn came, you felt your heart pounding in your chest. You didn’t hesitate. You stepped forward, pressing O with a sense of finality, the sound of the button clicking louder in your ears than it should have been. You placed the patch on your jacket, marking your decision, and walked back to your side of the room.

You didn’t look back.

You weren’t sure when you had made up your mind, but the choice was clear. Despite everything, despite the fear gnawing at the edges of your resolve, you knew you couldn’t walk away now. 

Out there, in the real world, the debt that had dragged you into this nightmare would still be waiting. The vultures would circle, just as they always had, but now you could fight back. You could take a step toward something better. The thought of going back to the crushing weight of your debts, to the life that had led you to this point, filled you with dread. There was nothing for you out there anymore.

The prize, the money, the possibility of escaping this endless cycle—this was the only chance you had left. There was no turning back now.

As much as you sympathized with those who wanted to leave, You just couldn’t. Here, at least, there was hope. A sliver of it. And if you survived, you could finally break free. You could pay it all off. You could start over. For the first time in what felt like forever, you had a chance—one that you couldn’t let slip through your fingers.

Your gaze wandered to the others, watching as they made their decisions. Some pressed X with shaking hands, their faces filled with desperation to leave and go home. Others pressed O with grim determination, their eyes locked on the future, no matter how uncertain. And yet, the overwhelming weight of it all crashed down on you again, heavy and suffocating.

You looked up at the piggy bank hanging high above, its golden glow mocking you with promises of salvation. If you made it—if you became the lone survivor—you’d earn it all. 45.6 billion won. Enough to erase every debt. Enough to silence the loan sharks who haunted your dreams. Enough to leave it all behind and disappear.

But as you stared at it, bile rose in your throat. Was this all your life had become—fighting for money, sacrificing everything just to survive? Your stomach twisted as your fists clenched, nails digging into your palms.

Reaching for your necklace, you clutched it tightly, the familiar weight grounding you for a moment. Its warmth offered a flicker of comfort, but even that couldn’t silence the emptiness creeping in. Here, hope felt like a dangerous thing to hold onto.

Out there, you had nothing. No one. Over time, everyone had given up on you. Your friends had drifted away, unwilling to carry the weight of your problems. Your family had turned their backs, tired of the chaos and the shame. And then there was... him.

He left without a word. No explanation, no goodbye. Just gone, as if you had never mattered at all.

When he disappeared, it felt like the last thread holding you together unraveled. You tried to move on, to make sense of it, but the truth was simple: no one stayed. Out there, you were invisible—a burden no one wanted to carry.

But here? Here, you had a purpose. As twisted and brutal as it was, the games gave you something to hold onto. Every step forward felt like proof that you could still fight, still matter, even if it was only to yourself.

You tore your gaze from the piggy bank and stared down at your shoes. It used to be white— pure. Now it’s scuffed and worn, much like you. Each scratch and stain told a story of a life lived in survival mode, clinging to scraps of hope. You couldn’t help but wonder—if you walked away now, what would be waiting for you? Nothing but the same endless cycle of despair.

At least here, you had a chance. A sick, twisted, blood-soaked chance.

And that was more than the outside world had ever given you.

In the midst of your inner turmoil, you didn’t notice someone standing beside you. They were looking at you, as if they wanted to make small talk yet didn't know how.

There was something bugging Dae-ho and he didn't know what it was. He couldn't stay still, couldn't think properly, couldn’t stay calm. He desperately needs a distraction, and he needs it now. But what could he possibly do? He can't just slap himself or shout. No way, that's too embarrassing. 

The male thought deeply before an idea popped up in his head. Eureka! He could try and talk to someone! His excitement died down as fast as it came. Yeah, he could try and talk to someone but who? His eyes scanned the crowd. To his dismay, most of the people surrounding him were scary oldies, and he was not willing to take the risk. He looked to his left, spotting a full head of hair. 

His gaze landed on you. You're young, he thinks— the white spots in your hair were less than those around him. He felt a little nervous, unsure of how to approach you, but he had no choice. This was his chance.

He coughed lightly, a test to see if you would notice him. 

No response. 

He tried again, this time a bit louder. 

Still nothing.

He began to get irritated, were you deaf or something? Shaking his irrational thoughts, Dae-ho got ready to fake cough again.

Then, out of nowhere, an old man in front of him turned and glared, sending a shiver down his spine. The male stopped, his face flushing. He needed to stop being a coward. He steeled himself, like the marine he was before doing it the right way.

He then stared at your unresponsive figure with intense, wide, and bulging eyes hoping that you would feel his intense stare and finally look at him. When that didn’t work, he began chanting “Hey! Look at me!” in his head just in case you were a mind reader. 

To nobody's surprise, his ‘plan’ flunked. Letting out an audible sigh, Dae-ho shook his head. He stopped being a wuss and garnered courage like a true marine. He should just approach you the right way, a single tap on the shoulder wouldn't hurt anybody right? Right.

As soon as his hand touched your shoulder, you ducked down and sneezed—an odd timing. He froze, unsure whether this was a sign to stop or if you were actually a mind reader and was avoiding him. But before he could pull his hand away, you reverted back to your original position— bumping into his outstretched hand.

He jumped back, startled. His cheeks flushed again as he realized he’d intruded on your space. In a sudden burst of nervous energy, he bowed deeply— a perfect ninety degrees, his hands clasped in front of him.

“I’m really sorry! I didn’t mean to... you see, I was feeling a little bored and wanted to talk to someone. Between you and me, I don’t want to talk to some old gray-haired people in debt. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable, you’re free to slap me and ignore me!”

He spoke in one long breath, the words tumbling out faster than he could control. Then, he froze, bracing himself—waiting for a slap, a harsh word, anything to tell him he had crossed a line. Or maybe, just maybe, he was waiting for you to give him a sign that it was all okay. The silence that followed was suffocating, hanging between you like a heavyweight, neither of you dared to break.

When you didn’t respond, he began to doubt himself. Was this a joke? Was he imagining everything? Had he pushed too far?

And then—

“…Dae-ho…?”

The silence that was there from the beginning stretched even further as Dae-ho froze, his heart pounding. He could feel his chest tightening with every breath, his thoughts spinning in circles. Was this really happening?

He slowly lifted his head, praying, hoping that what he was thinking wasn’t true. His eyes scanned your face, searching for any sign that this was just some cruel illusion. He blinked hard, trying to clear his vision, but it didn’t help. You were still there, staring back at him, just as real as the cold walls of the room around him.

“[Name]...”

How could this be real? The years apart, the silence, the pain—it had all carved its place deep inside you, wounds that never fully healed. And yet, here he was, standing before you like a ghost dragged from the past to haunt you. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair.

You stared at him, unable to look away, yet every second felt like a fresh wound. How could he just stand there, shaking and silent, as if you weren’t the one left to pick up the shattered pieces of your life when he walked away? Your chest tightened, the air suddenly too thick to breathe.

He looked so different, yet so heartbreakingly familiar. Those same eyes that used to meet yours with warmth now avoided your gaze like a coward. The same hands that once held yours trembled at his sides, as if they carried the weight of something unsaid.

You wanted to scream at him, to demand answers to the questions that had haunted you for years. Why did he leave? Why didn’t he say goodbye? The questions burned in your chest, but no words came. The silence between you was louder than any explanation he could give—louder than the ache of the years he left you to carry alone.

And yet, some small part of you hated yourself for hoping, for wanting him to say something that would make it all make sense. But as his lips parted and nothing came, his silence was louder than any excuse could ever be.

Cheers suddenly filled the room as the two of you looked away from each other. Looking at the scoreboard, you released a sigh of relief as O won, meaning the games would still proceed. 

Following the guards orders to disperse, you walked away as fast as you could. You needed to run away for a while, away from everyone, away from him. You weaved through the sea of players, ignoring the chaotic mix of relief and despair filling the room. Every step felt heavier, your mind still reeling from the sight of him. Why here? Why now?

Your chest ached. The large room offered little solace, the murmur of restless voices and distant footsteps a constant reminder of where you were. You sought refuge in the thin, scratchy blanket of your assigned bed, pulling it over yourself as if it could shield you from the weight pressing down on your chest.

Laying in a fetal position, you tried to steady your breathing, to stop the trembling in your hands. But his face—his eyes—kept flashing in your mind, a painful reminder of everything you thought you’d buried.

Anger simmered just beneath the surface, threatening to boil over. You clenched your fists, an attempt to stop the tears from flowing. But no amount of control could erase the gnawing ache in your chest.

“[Name]...”

The voice froze you in place. 

“Can we… talk?” His voice was quiet, almost pleading.

Under the covers, you exhaled sharply, forcing yourself to keep your tone steady. “What’s there to talk about, Dae-ho?”

His jaw tightened, and he took a cautious step closer to your bed. “I… I didn’t think I’d see you here. I didn’t think I’d see you again at all.”

“Neither did I,” you replied curtly. “And yet, here we are.”

He flinched at your words, guilt flashing in his eyes not that you could see it. “I know I owe you an explanation.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “An explanation? After all these years? After you disappeared without a word? You think I need that now, here of all places?”

His lips parted as if to argue, but he stopped himself. Instead, he looked down, his hands gripping the fabric of his jumpsuit. “I wanted to explain. I really did. But I didn’t know how.”

“You didn’t know how?” you repeated, incredulous. “You didn’t know how to tell me you were leaving? That you were giving up on us? That you—”

Your voice cracked, and you stopped, swallowing the lump in your throat. You refused to let him hear you cry. Not here. Not now.

“I didn’t give up on you,” he said softly.

His words hung in the air, but they did nothing to soothe the ache inside you. You shook your head once more, your voice trembling. “You left me alone, Dae-ho. You walked away without a word, and you left me to deal with everything by myself. Don’t tell me you didn’t give up.”

Silence followed, thick and suffocating. You could feel his eyes on your figure under the covers, before hearing footsteps walk away. You didn’t expect much, knowing that all he does is run from his responsibilities. But why did it still hurt? 

As you went to collect your dinner, you couldn’t help but overhear familiar laughter. Laughter that you used to love listening to. Silently gazing at Dae-ho’s figure, you watch in silence as he makes small talk with a group of men in the corner of the room. A small smile crept up your face, even after all those years he still has his charming laugh. You moved your gaze to the guard as they handed you your food, with a small bow you thanked them before going back to your bed. 

Looking at him one more time, your eyes widened in surprise as a set of eyes clashed with yours. Thankfully, it wasn’t Dae-ho. It was 001. There was something in his stare that made you scared. Maybe Dae-ho told them about your history and now they were angry at you, either way, who were you to care? You broke eye contact first, setting your gaze elsewhere as you retreated back to your assigned bed. Little did you know Dae-ho was doing the same, looking at you with longing eyes every time you had your back turned from him.

The next day came quickly, the game even quicker. You convinced a group to let you join their team with your gonggi skills. They were reluctant at first but had no choice but to let you in as the timer was nearing its end. Your team went through the games with ease, everyone was a pro on the games— you included. 

As the guard placed the table in front of you, you and your team squatted, the familiar weight of the stones in your hands grounding you. It reminded you of something, something far simpler, back when you were young.

“The slowest will have to buy the winner dinner, deal?” you said with a playful grin, your voice filled with mischievous confidence as you laid out the challenge.

Dae-ho’s eyes widened, shaking his head dramatically. “That’s unfair! You only say that because you’re a pro at gonggi!” he shot back, his voice half-laughing and half-complaining, clearly trying to defend himself.

Currently, the two of you, still in your high school uniforms, are sprawled on the floor of your room, surrounded by an amusing mess of half-done activities. The afternoon had been a carefree escape from schoolwork and responsibilities, as you had decided to skip school for the day. Your parents were away, so you had the house all to yourselves.

The floor was scattered with papers, a few textbooks left open, and snacks you’d absentmindedly snacked on while getting lost in your own little world. Dae-ho’s hair was a chaotic mess of clips, ties, and failed attempts at creating something resembling style. 

Meanwhile, your face was painted with makeup. Your eyes were covered in uneven eyeshadow, and your lipstick had smudged onto your cheeks in a way that had you wondering if you'd even be able to wash it off later. It was ridiculous, but it was also perfect. There was no need for perfection when you were together, just moments of unfiltered fun. You didn’t mind looking silly—it was a shared experience, after all.

You leaned back on the floor, hands resting behind your head, watching him with an amused expression. He had always been competitive, and you knew he wouldn’t let this challenge slide without giving it his all. But you also knew he wouldn’t back down.

"You're just mad because I'm about to beat you,” you teased, raising an eyebrow and holding the gonggi stones in your hand. “I’ve got this in the bag."

Dae-ho let out an exaggerated sigh, pretending to be defeated, but his eyes betrayed him—the challenge was on. “Fine. The loser buys the winner dinner.” he said, as the fire in his eyes burned brightly.

You smiled, leaning closer and placing the stones carefully in front of both of you. “You’re on,” you replied, your voice light but determined.

The game, which was just supposed to be a simple way to pass the time, had suddenly become a full-blown competition, complete with stakes. Dae-ho didn’t like losing, and you knew that meant he would give everything he had to win, but you weren’t going to make it easy for him.

With that, the tension between you both shifted. You could feel the energy change as you both focused on the stones in front of you, your hands hovering over them, ready to begin the game. The silly banter was still there, but now it was mixed with a more serious undercurrent—a challenge that was both fun and a little bit intense.

Dae-ho glanced at you once more, his expression playful but competitive, and you could see the slight smirk forming on his lips. “Get ready to buy me that dinner,” he said with mock confidence, ready to show you he was the better player.

You laughed, shaking your head. “We’ll see about that, Dae-ho.”

And with that, the game began, the stones flying through the air as you both competed to see who could win the challenge, the promise of dinner hanging in the balance.

After breezing through the first rounds, you placed all the stones on top of your hand, heart racing. You nervously exhaled, forcing yourself to focus.

“I’m honestly jealous of your gonggi skills,” you admitted, leaning back in your chair as you sat beside Dae-ho at your favorite hotpot place, a small smile playing on your lips as you stirred your bowl of soup.

Dae-ho, who had just taken a sip from his drink, blinked at you in mock surprise. “You? Jealous of me? You’re the one who won!” he said with a playful glare, his tone lighthearted.

You laughed softly, shaking your head at him. “Not that part, silly! I always notice that you always catch all five stones with ease. Even if I’m fast, I still mess up once in a while.” You looked down at your half-eaten bowl, the warmth from the hotpot filling your chest, but it wasn’t just from the food—it was the company that made everything feel so right.

Dae-ho’s expression softened as he put down his chopsticks, giving you his full attention. He nodded thoughtfully, then smiled, and for a moment, you felt as if the world outside didn’t exist, just the two of you, sharing this simple, quiet moment together.

“Well, my lovely [nickname],” he said, his voice taking on that playful, teasing tone you knew so well. “I can always tell you a trick,” he continued, raising an eyebrow mischievously. “But it’ll cost you. My secrets aren’t free, you know.”

Your curiosity piqued, you tilted your head, giving him a playful. “Go on, then.”

Dae-ho’s smile widened as he turned his cheek toward you, tilting his head just enough to make it clear what he wanted. You giggled, rolling your eyes but giving in, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on his left cheek.

He grinned, the sparkle in his eyes making your heart skip a beat, and without missing a beat, he pointed to the other side, silently asking for more. You couldn’t help but smile, kissing his right cheek just as lightly.

Then, Dae-ho tilted his head again, offering his forehead with that trademark mischievous smile. “And this one?” he asked, his eyes glinting with excitement.

You didn’t even hesitate, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on his forehead, your heart fluttering in the simple affection. It felt like the most natural thing in the world, and the more you kissed him, the more the world around you faded away.

He stretched his hand out next, offering the back of his left hand with an expectant grin. You chuckled at how silly this game was becoming, but you still kissed it gently, your heart swelling with warmth. His grin only grew wider, and before you knew it, he was extending his right hand, offering it up for another kiss.

You kissed it too, your heart fluttering again at how effortlessly he could make everything feel so special. Each little moment, each silly gesture, you loved it all.

Finally, with that signature grin of his, Dae-ho turned fully toward you, his eyes sparkling with playfulness. “And this one?” he asked, tilting his face toward yours, the question hanging in the air like an invitation.

Without even thinking, you closed the space between you and kissed his lips, a soft, lingering kiss that felt full of promise and affection. The moment was so pure, so simple, that it left you breathless in the best way. Nothing mattered but the two of you, sharing this quiet, tender connection.

Dae-ho smiled against your lips, his arms subtly drawing you closer as he pulled back just slightly, a lovestruck expression on his face. “You’re the best, [nickname].” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear as he nuzzled you gently. His voice was soft and full of affection, and you couldn’t help but smile back, your heart swelling with warmth.

You leaned in, your voice teasing. “So? What’s the trick?”

Dae-ho let out a dramatic sigh, pretending to be exasperated but still smiling. “Can’t I have a lovely moment with you?” he asked, his tone light and affectionate.

“Dae-ho.” you said with a small laugh, nudging him playfully.

“Fine, fine! You’re a party pooper!” he joked, giving you a nudge back before getting serious. He shifted slightly, sitting up straighter and showing you a more focused expression. “Alright, listen carefully.” He mimicked the motions as he spoke. “What I do is first calm myself down. Inhale... and exhale.” He demonstrated the breathing technique, his chest rising and falling slowly. 

He paused before looking at you expectantly. Rolling your eyes, you copied his movement. Inhale and exhale.

Satisfied, he continued. “Once you find your peace, you put all your might in your palm so the stones don’t fall. Strong foundation.”

You nodded, watching him carefully. “Got it,” you said, your gaze fixed on his hands as he continued with his instructions.

He smiled, clearly pleased by your attention. “Then you throw your hand upwards—just right. Not too low, not too high,” he said, raising one hand and showing you the perfect motion. “Count one...” He paused dramatically, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Count one,” you repeated, laughing softly at how serious he was being, yet how cute he looked while teaching you.

“Then catch!” 

You threw your hand up. It felt natural. It felt right. The stones landed, and you caught them all in one smooth motion.

“Hey! I caught it on the first try!” You grinned, excitement rushing through you. You looked up, expecting to see Dae-ho’s proud smile, the one that always made your heart race.

But instead, you met the cold, expressionless face of a guard. Reality hit like a punch to the gut. This wasn’t Dae-ho. This wasn’t your favorite hotpot place.

Your heart twisted, the warmth you replaced by the emptiness of this place. You tried to smile, but it felt hollow. The distant cheers of your teammates did nothing to drown out the silence in your mind.

You couldn’t shake the memory, his teasing smile, his quiet words, the way his lips brushed against yours. Those were moments you could never go back to. As you moved on to the next station, the sting of that memory lingered, sharp and painful. The sweetness was gone. It was just you, alone in this game, with no place for memories of simpler times.

Everything was a blur after that, your mind occupied by what happened during the second game. Gonggi was something you always bonded over, and that game brought unwanted memories back. It got to a point wherein the way you’d always made decisions, small or big, was by playing gonggi. Where to eat? Play gonggi. Who’s paying the bill? Gonggi. 

But now, as you lay at your bed, staring at the ceiling, it wasn’t the same. Your mind wandered back to that moment, remembering his smile, the way his eyes would soften when he looked at you. That warmth, that sense of belonging, was gone. The past felt distant, like a dream you couldn’t hold onto anymore.

You closed your eyes, trying to push the memory away. Suddenly, the light went out. 

The light went out? That wasn’t right.

You opened one eye and saw Dae-ho standing above you, looking down at you with that nervous, familiar expression.

“Congrats, [Name]. I knew you could do it.” he said softly.

You looked up at him, emotions swirling in your chest. “Congrats also, Dae-ho.” you replied quietly. 

You stared at him as the weight of everything hung heavy in the air between you. You had so many emotions running through your veins—hurt, betrayal, confusion, anger—and yet, here he was, standing in front of you, trying to explain himself, trying to make sense of everything.

“[Name]... Please, talk to me.” he repeated, his voice soft but desperate.

You didn’t move at first. The space between you, filled with so many unspoken words. Finally, you stood up, leading him to a quiet corner between the bed frames, away from the chaos. The moment felt strangely intimate, but so far removed from anything you could have ever imagined.

Dae-ho was the first to break the silence, his voice shaking with the weight of his confession. “I didn’t want to leave, [Name]. I didn’t... but I had no choice.” He paused, his face twisted with guilt as he rubbed his hands together nervously.

“My father...” His voice cracked as he spoke, his words thick with regret. “He was... always trying to control me. Pushing me into things I didn’t want. He never let me make my own decisions. But when it came to you... he saw how much I cared. He saw how soft I was because of you, and he hated it. He thought I wasn’t strong enough to survive—how I wasn't becoming a real man, so he sent me away. He made me join the Marines. He didn’t even let me choose. I tried to fight him. I tried to say no, but he didn’t care.”

You felt your heart break all over again. “But... Why didn’t you fight harder for us? Why didn’t you try harder to stay? To... tell me?” The words were out before you could stop them, and they stung more than you’d expected.

“I... I couldn’t,” he whispered. “He had me. I thought if I left, if I did what he said, it would all be over. That he’d leave me alone. But when I came back, you were gone. I couldn’t find you. I looked for you everywhere, [Name], but you and your family were gone. And I thought... I thought I lost you forever. And I couldn’t fix it.”

You bit your lip to stop yourself from crying. “But you didn’t even try to find me, Dae-ho. You just... disappeared. I waited for you. I thought I was worth waiting for, but you made me feel the  opposite. You just left, and I had to pick up the pieces of my life without you.”

“Please don’t say that. You are worth fighting for [Name].”

His eyes filled with sorrow, and he reached out for you, but you pulled back slightly, not ready for his touch just yet. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I never wanted to hurt you. I thought I could make it right when I came back, but... it wasn’t the same. And now I’m afraid I’ve lost you for good.”

Your chest tightened, and you fought to keep your emotions in check. “You didn’t lose me, Dae-ho. If anything, I still think about you. Every street I walk, every place I visit. I always tried to find any sign of you. You just… you never gave me a chance to be part of your life anymore. I can’t just go back to how things were. I can’t pretend everything’s okay, because it’s not.”

“I understand,” Dae-ho said quietly, his voice laced with sincerity. “I know you’ve been through so much. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you before, but I’m here now. Let me make it right. Please…”

He paused, swallowing hard before speaking again, as if the weight of his words was too heavy to bear. “If you just vote to go home, we can leave all this behind. We don’t have to keep playing. We can go back to the way things were. We can be free. We can live together.”

His words hit you like a punch to the stomach, leaving you breathless. You couldn’t wrap your mind around what he was asking. He wanted you to vote to go home? That’s all it took? To end this nightmare?

You took a step back, your heart hammering in your chest. The sudden flood of emotions was overwhelming—confusion, anger, hurt, all rolled into one. “Is that what you think this is about, Dae-ho? You think you can just tell me to vote to go home and everything will magically go back to normal? That we’ll just go back to living in some fairy tale together?”

His face faltered with guilt, but you couldn’t stop yourself. The words were already tumbling out, and the anger was building with each second. “You have no idea what it’s like for me out there. I don’t have anything left. No family. No safety. No way out. If I leave without the money, I’ll be dead before I even make it out of the game. The people who own me—they’ll come for me. They’ll end me.”

You couldn’t stop the rise of panic and fury in your voice. “You think voting to go home is going to fix everything? Do you think that’ll save me from what’s out there? You think that’s going to protect me?”

You were shaking now, your words louder, sharper with each passing second. “I’m not here by choice. I didn’t sign up for this game to have some fun. I’m here because I have no other option. I need the money. I have to win. I don’t have the luxury of walking away. If I don’t make it, I’m dead. They’ll take everything I have left. They’ll take my life. And you want me to just throw that away?”

His face went pale, his hands trembling as he reached out, but you stepped back, your emotions running too high. You were drowning in your own fear, your own anger, and he was standing there, asking for something you couldn’t give. Not now. Not when your very existence was on the line.

“I’m not going to die for you to feel like you’ve done something good,” you spat, your voice cold and full of finality. “I’ll keep playing. I’ll keep fighting. I’ll keep voting O if that’s what it takes to stay alive. Because I don’t have the luxury to just quit. I don’t have the luxury to go home. If I die here, then I die here. But at least I had a chance. A chance to keep living.”

You could see the regret flooding his face now, the guilt in his eyes clear as day. But it didn’t matter. You had already crossed the line, said everything you needed to say. The wound had already been made, and nothing would heal it now.

“They took everything from me,” you whispered, voice cracking with the weight of the confession. “I don’t have anything left. This game, this nightmare is all I have. If I leave without any money, without anything... they’ll take me. They’ll take my life.”

His expression was full of pain now. The words hit him hard, and you saw the guilt swirling inside him. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but no words came. You saw the regret in his eyes, the apology he couldn’t voice—but it was too little, too late.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered finally, his voice thick with regret. “I never meant to hurt you. I just… I didn’t know. I didn’t know it was this bad. I didn’t know you were fighting for your life.”

You shook your head slowly, stepping back from him. “You didn’t know? You never bothered to ask. You didn’t care enough to understand what I was going through. You just assumed everything would be fine, that we could go back to normal. But you didn’t ask, Dae-ho. You didn’t care.”

His face crumpled with the realization of what you were saying, and the weight of your words hit him like a ton of bricks. But you didn’t care. Not now. Not when you were holding on to the one thing that mattered to you right now—your will to survive.

“I’m sorry, Dae-ho,” you whispered, the words barely escaping your lips, but full of emotion. “But I care about surviving. I care about living. And if I have to vote O, if I have to keep playing to do that, then that’s what I’ll do.”

For a long moment, you stood there, facing each other in the silence, your hearts both full of unsaid things. But the anger slowly began to fade, replaced by a deep sadness, a sorrow that neither of you could fix.

He stepped closer to you, his voice quiet. “I’m sorry... I never wanted this for you. But I’ll always be here, [Name], even if you hate me for it.”

You looked at him one last time, the weight of everything you had said sinking in. And for the first time in a long time, you let the tears fall—not from anger, but from the overwhelming fear of it all. The fear of what your life had become, of how far you’d fallen, of the choices you had to make that never felt right.

Dae-ho stared at you as you quietly wept, his heart breaking at the sight of your pain. Without a second thought, he reached out, pulling you into his arms. He wrapped you in the comfort of his embrace, guiding your head to rest against his chest, your tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt.

He didn’t speak at first, just held you tightly, as if trying to shield you from the world, from everything that had happened, and everything you feared. His hand gently rubbed your back in slow, soothing circles, offering what comfort he could in that moment.

“I’m sorry… I know I can’t take away all the pain,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “But I’m here, [Name]. I won’t leave you. You don’t have to go through this alone anymore. Please... just let me be here for you.”

You clung to him, not knowing if you wanted him to fix everything, but just needing the solace, the warmth that came with knowing he was still here. Still trying. You didn’t know what the future held, or if you could ever truly forgive him for the past, but in that moment, you allowed yourself to feel something you hadn’t in so long—comfort, even if it was fleeting.

He tightened his hold on you, letting you cry, never pushing you away. “I’ll always be here. I promise.”

You didn’t know how long it had been, but eventually, the tears started to slow. The tightness in your chest eased just a little, and you found yourself breathing a bit easier. Dae-ho, still holding you gently, never let go. He simply let you rest against him, giving you space to process everything, even if that meant staying silent for the moment.

You looked at him, your chest heavy with everything you’d just let out. “I’m sorry too,” you murmured, voice low and shaky. “I... I didn’t mean to lash out like that. I was just... I don’t know. I was scared. I couldn’t—couldn’t bear the thought of losing everything. But I shouldn’t have said those things.”

Dae-ho shook his head softly, his fingers brushing your cheek again. “No... I deserved it. I made you carry too much, and I never gave you the chance to say how you really felt. I was so focused on my own guilt, I didn’t see how much I was hurting you.”

The weight of the words sank in, and you felt a tear slip down your cheek, though this one wasn’t filled with anger—it was filled with a sadness you hadn’t let yourself fully feel until now. “We both messed up,” you whispered, the ache in your heart growing.

Dae-ho’s gaze softened, his hand gently squeezing yours. “But I’ll try to make it right. I don’t know if I can, but I’ll keep trying, [Name]. I’ll stay by your side, no matter what.”

You took a shaky breath, finding comfort in the sincerity of his words. “I don’t know where we go from here, but... I can’t pretend like it’s all fine. I need time.”

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’ll give you all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere. I’m just... sorry. For everything.”

The air between you was thick with unspoken apologies, regrets, and the fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, you could both find a way to heal from this. You both had a long road ahead, a game to survive. But for now, the silence was no longer heavy with tension. Instead, it was filled with a quiet understanding, one that neither of you had expected to find, but one that was slowly, carefully beginning to piece things together.

"This time, the vote will begin with Player 001. Player 001, please cast your vote."

The moment the announcement was made, you felt a cold shiver run down your spine. Voting had begun. This time, you were going first—before Dae-ho. He stood beside you, his presence steady and calming, but there was an undeniable tension in the air. His hand brushed your back, the soothing gesture almost feeling out of place in this chaotic, life-or-death situation.

“Choose what you need,” Dae-ho whispered, his voice soft but full of sincerity. “Don’t worry about me. I won’t be mad.”

His words settled over you like a gentle blanket, but they couldn’t remove the weight of the decision you had to make. To survive, to keep moving forward, you knew you had to vote for O. You had to keep playing if you wanted a chance at surviving, but even as you stood in front of the voting machine, you felt a sickening sense of dread.

Was it really worth it? Pushing yourself, forcing the belief that survival was your only option, knowing the outside world would swallow you whole. What was the point of living if the only person who ever made you feel truly alive has always been Dae-ho? The thought echoed in your mind, and the walls of the room suddenly felt like they were closing in around you. Dae-ho had become your anchor in this madness—your reason for pushing through.

But now, you had to choose. You needed to choose for your own survival.

Your finger hovered over the button for O, but then you thought about everything you’d been through, everything you’d sacrificed already. At that moment, it was no longer just about survival. It was about the life you had left to live. You didn’t want to keep going without him.

X.

You slammed your hand down on the button, your choice made in an instant. The harsh reality of it stung as you tore off the patch you had placed on your jacket earlier, replacing it with a new one. As you made your way to the X side of the room, your heart felt heavy, but there was a strange sense of finality to it. You have made your decision.

You couldn’t help but look over at Dae-ho. The surprise on his face was so pure, so raw. His eyes were wide, his mouth slightly agape, like a fish caught out of water, and the shock in his gaze hit you harder than you expected.

Despite the tension and the gravity of the moment, you found yourself quietly laughing at him, unable to hold it in. The absurdity of it all—of choosing to walk away from everything that had kept you going—made you want to laugh and cry at the same time. God, you felt like a fool. After your dramatic show earlier, how you had confidently claimed that you would continue voting O, ready to survive, ready to keep playing. Yet here you were, choosing X, choosing to stop. Choosing him.

Dae-ho just stood there for a moment, still processing, before going up the platform to vote. His footsteps were slow, deliberate, as if he were trying to piece together what had just happened. You couldn’t blame him. The moment was so surreal, so at odds with everything you’d said before. 

You watched him, heart hammering in your chest as he stood at the voting machine. His back was turned to you, but you could almost feel the confusion radiating off him. His hesitation was palpable, and you wondered if he understood. If he saw why you made the decision you did.

The sound of his vote pressing echoed in the silence, a soft click that seemed too loud for the room. He immediately walked to where you stood, his expression unreadable.

“I don’t get it,” he muttered. “Why... why did you choose X?”

The answer was too simple, too complicated, and maybe too painful to say out loud. Instead, you gave him a small smile, one that held so many unsaid things. “Dae-ho, I’ll always choose you.”

In the end, your vote didn’t matter. Since O won by a landslide, the next game was inevitable. But for the first time in days, or maybe even years, you found yourself smiling—a real, genuine smile—as you were introduced to Dae-ho’s little group. You exchanged pleasantries, introduced yourselves, and felt something warm stir inside you.

The following day came quickly, and with it, the next game. One moment, you were lying in bed, your mind running wild with the uncertainty of what was to come. Next, you were on a spinning platform, waiting for the music to stop. Your eyes immediately sought out Dae-ho, and when you met his gaze, he reached for your hand, gripping it tightly, as if he couldn’t bear to let go.

“Don’t worry,” he said softly, a promise in his words. “I won’t let go.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I know.”

The rounds passed, too smoothly, almost disturbingly so. You all survived the first four rounds with ease.

But everything was about to change. 

7.

“Five women, and two men. Go!” Gi-hun’s commanding voice cut through the noise, demanding attention. Without hesitation, 007 shot his hand into the air. “I’ll go with my mother!” he announced, stepping forward. Gi-hun nodded, relieved to have a volunteer. He scanned the group again, waiting for the next person to step up.

Dae-ho raised his hand, his voice strong as he called out, “We’ll go!” He pulled you closer to him, offering a small smile that was laced with worry. His eyes betrayed his calm demeanor, revealing the weight of what was happening. The air around you both felt heavy with the uncertainty of the situation. Still, you clung to each other, walking together toward the door.

Your group of seven—007, 149, 120, 095, Jun-hee, you, and Dae-ho—ran toward the nearest empty room. The sound of your hurried footsteps echoed in the tense silence. But just as you were about to step inside, something caught your eye and made your heart drop.

Player 095, frail and struggling, was being shoved aside by a group of players. Seeing her so helpless, you couldn’t just stand by. Without thinking, you yanked your hand from Dae-ho’s grasp and rushed to her side.

Dae-ho’s heart skipped a beat the moment he felt the loss of your hand. Panic surged through him. Where did you go? He scanned the chaos around him, his eyes frantic as he searched for you in the crowded room. His heart tightened when he saw you helped 095 into the room, making sure she was safe. He could see the determination in your eyes as you ensured her well-being, but once it was your turn to come into the room, to rejoin him, disaster struck.

A group of four players, each desperately fighting for their own survival, barreled into you.

The impact was brutal. Your body was slammed to the ground with overwhelming force. Everything around you seemed to blur and slow down as you hit the floor, your breath knocked from your chest in a violent rush. A sharp wave of pain shot through your body—your limbs aching, your head spinning—but strangely, you couldn't feel it all at once. The shock of the fall seemed to disconnect you from your body, like you were floating in a painful haze.

In that split second, time seemed to stretch out. You felt a sudden sense of numbness as your body tried to process the damage, and your heart raced as you struggled to breathe. Your vision blurred, and for a moment, you feared that you wouldn’t be able to get up again. But then, the rush of adrenaline kicked in.

Determination surged through you like a lightning bolt. You couldn't afford to stay down. You had to survive.

You pushed yourself off the ground, ignoring the throbbing pain in your limbs, and scrambled to your feet. Gritting your teeth, you ran with every ounce of strength you had left, your focus fixed on the door. You had to get inside—it was the only chance left. The room was just a few feet away now, but each step felt like an eternity as you sprinted, your legs shaking with exertion and fear. Every part of you screamed for rest, but you couldn't stop. Not yet.

"[Name]! Let’s play Mingle!" Dae-ho’s voice rang out with excitement, pulling you out of your thoughts. You raised an eyebrow, already knowing his playful nature.

“With just the two of us?” you asked, teasing him. A grin tugged at your lips despite yourself, knowing that whatever he had planned would likely be a mix of fun and absurdity.

“Well...” Dae-ho scratched the back of his neck, pretending to think deeply, but the mischievous glint in his eyes gave him away. He was already scheming.

It was your third anniversary together, a day you both decided to celebrate in your usual style: by skipping class and spending it alone in your room. Both of you were still wearing your high school uniforms—uniforms that no longer felt like the serious attire they were supposed to be. The two of you had spent countless afternoons like this, laughing and simply enjoying each other's company, without a care in the world.

“I’ve got it!” Dae-ho suddenly exclaimed, his eyes lighting up as he dashed to your bed. He scooped up a handful of stuffed toys with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Let’s use our children!” he declared, holding them up like he had just discovered the most brilliant idea.

You stared at him, your laughter bubbling up instantly. "Our children? Really, tiger?" you chuckled, wiping away the tears that had already begun to form from laughing too hard.

"Hey, don’t laugh! This is serious!" he protested, feigning offense, but you could see the twinkle in his eyes that told you he was only pretending to be upset. He adjusted the toys in his arms, a determined look on his face.

“Alright, fine,” you replied, still laughing but wiping your eyes. “Let’s play.” You were already game—who could resist when Dae-ho was this excited?

Dae-ho carefully arranged the toys in front of you both, giving each one a position with a level of care that made it clear he was taking this game very seriously. “Okay. For this round… Three!” he announced dramatically, holding his hands out in front of him like he was preparing to start a battle.

You didn’t even wait for him to finish before snatching up two of the nearest toys. His jaw dropped in mock betrayal, and he huffed loudly, feigning offense. "Not fair! You should partner with me. Always!" he said, acting like you had broken some sacred rule.

You stuck your tongue out at him, teasing. “Stop being a sore loser! I’m just playing by your rules.”

"Fine," he grumbled. He pouted dramatically, a little over-the-top for someone so competitive. He then scurried around the room, gathering two more toys to prepare for the next round.

The game continued in the same playful vein, with the toys being eliminated one by one. The room filled with the sound of laughter, teasing, and mock outrage as each round got more dramatic. The toys “lost” in ways that made no sense, their plush bodies being thrown to the side in exaggerated defeat.

"For this round,” Dae-ho said, his voice suddenly turning serious. “Two!” He gave you a look, as if to challenge you to keep up with him.

You smirked, ready to grab him this time. But before you could react, he swooped down and grabbed the last remaining toy, holding it close to his chest with a triumphant grin. “Hey!” you cried out in mock outrage, throwing your hands up.

"Sore loser!" he teased, clearly pleased with his victory.

You crossed your arms, pretending to sulk. “Whatever.” you muttered, rolling your eyes for effect.

Dae-ho chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. He set the toy down, then knelt in front of you. “Wait, wait, don’t be mad!” he said, holding the toy up to his face like a little puppet. He moved its tiny arms in a dramatic fashion, as if it was trying to “walk” toward you.

"Eomma! Please don’t be angry at Appa! Pleaseee!” he said in a high-pitched, exaggerated voice that made you burst out laughing.

Your faux anger crumbled immediately, and you couldn’t help but giggle at his antics. He was ridiculous—and that was one of the many reasons you loved him.

Still holding the toy, Dae-ho slowly lowered it from his face, a more tender look in his eyes. You hadn’t noticed at first, but there was a delicate necklace hanging from the toy’s tiny paw. Your breath hitched as he gently removed the necklace and held it out to you.

"Here," he said softly, his voice unexpectedly gentle. You could feel the warmth in his words as he looked at you with such sincerity. Without warning, he leaned forward and clasped the necklace around your neck. The touch of his fingers against your skin sent a shiver through you. "Happy anniversary, [Name]."

For a moment, your heart skipped a beat as the rush of emotion hit you unexpectedly. His gesture felt like everything—a simple, yet deeply meaningful way of showing how much he cared. You blinked back the sudden welling of emotion in your chest.

Before you could stop yourself, you threw your arms around him, pressing a kiss to his lips in gratitude. You then buried your face in his shoulder, hiding the emotions that threatened to spill over.

“Thank you.” you murmured, your voice muffled against his skin.

Dae-ho chuckled softly, his arms wrapping around you in a tight, comforting hug. “Anything for you.”

In that moment, everything else faded away. There was just the two of you, wrapped in each other's warmth, sharing a quiet, simple happiness that felt bigger than any words could express. Time seemed to slow down, and you didn’t want to think about anything else.

As you pulled back, your laughter bubbled up again, light and carefree. You couldn’t resist teasing him once more. “You’re still a sore loser, though.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dae-ho replied, rolling his eyes but still grinning. “But you love me anyway.”

You smiled, your gaze softening as you looked at him with affection. “I do. Now help me with this necklace!”

Your hand stretched toward the door, the cold metal just within reach. 

Then everything went silent.