I Beg You To Write Something About Sae-Byeok Or The Salesman. Your Just So Talented. I’m Obssessed.

Hi Xae, have a good new year, I wanted to ask you if you could write about Kang Dae-ho (player 388) from Squid Game 2, where the reader joins Gihun's team and even though it's only been a few hours, she and Dae-ho already have chemistry and Dae-ho tells Gihun's friend how pretty the reader is, making him a little angry and calling him a fool in love, ty ❤!

-🦊

Kang Dae-Ho/Player 388 - Fool in love

Synopsis: You and Dae-ho get along within the first second you meet - maybe it's meant to be?

A/N: Finally dropping this !! Dae-ho is so cutie and I love him sm

Warning: none !!

A game where death is lurking right around the corner is enough to send a chill down anyone’s spine. Especially yours. You only came here because you needed the money but you weren't confident that you'd be willing to die for it. The idea that you might die soon made you utterly afraid. You had a family that you'd most definitely like to go home to but most of the other players seemed far too keen to stay in this hell and it meant you were stuck there with them too.

On a more fortunate note, there seemed to be a previous winner amidst the hundreds of other players and you'd be damned if you didn't rely on someone who knew what he was doing. If he really was a winner, then he could predict the games. Maybe then you'd actually have a chance of getting out alive and with a lot of money.

“Hi. You're the guy from earlier who said that he played this before, right?” You ask as you stand in front of player 456. You thought maybe being his ally would make you feel better but, with the way he looked up at you, he was actually kind of scary. It's like his face had been frozen into a hard glare. Though, to be fair, he was apparently the sole survivor of the game he played so he must have suffered plenty of losses. You suppose you'd look that unhappy too if you lost people you cared about.

He gives you a nod as the other people sitting around look at you too. They looked a lot less terrifying than him which made you feel a bit better. “I was wondering if maybe I could stick with you guys? I don't really want to be on my own and, since you've played these games before, you can help, right?” you ask with a hopeful look. You were really hoping that they'd be welcoming to you. 

“Mm? Who are you?” Someone suddenly speaks and, when you look towards the voice, you see a boy with food stuffed in his mouth peeking out from around the corner. His eyes briefly widen when he sees you properly before he quickly puts his food down and jumps off the bed. “Of course, you can stick with us,” he says rather eagerly as the three men behind him give him a strange look.

“Ah, really? Thank you,” you say with a nervous grin as he practically pushes you to sit down. You honestly didn't expect to be welcomed with such open arms. Actually, maybe that wasn't really a team decision but you didn't complain because now you had a team who could protect you and that you could hopefully trust. 

“So, who are you?” He asks as he grabs his food from the bed before he sits down beside you with his legs crossed. He looked genuinely interested to know everything about you and it made your heartbeat a little faster. He was cute. That was for sure. So to have his eyes on you was certainly making you slightly nervous. You cleared your throat before introducing yourself as you tried to maintain eye contact with him.

He repeats your name as if testing out how it sounds when said from his own mouth. After a slight pause, he gives a slight nod of approval before speaking up again. “I'm Dae-ho. Kang Dae-ho,” he says with a smile. In all honesty, he had never seen someone as pretty as you. You really captivated his attention. He felt like he couldn't take his eyes off you.

“Kang Dae-ho,” you repeat quietly as you engrave the name into your mind. “That's a nice name,” you say with a small smile and he smiles too. “It's supposed to mean big tiger. Kang means big and Dae-ho means tiger,” he explains before taking a bite of his food. 

“Big tiger? You don't look very big,” you say with a small smile, teasing him slightly. He swallowed down his food before responding to your comment. “Wha-? I'm big! I was a marine,” he says with a proud smirk. You look at him and down and raise an eyebrow to send a clear message that you didn't believe him one bit.

“No, I'm serious!” He says before pulling his sleeve up to reveal his tattoo. “See?” He says as he makes sure you get a good look at it. “C'mon, anyone could get that tattooed on their arm,” you say and he immediately shakes his head in denial. 

“You still don't believe me? Maybe I need to show you my strength then,” he says with a small smile before throwing some gentle punches at you. You laugh at his actions as you two play fight - something that captures the attention of the other three that were sitting around. They look at you two before exchanging a glance between each other then looking away and trying to act as if you and Dae-ho aren't clearly forming some sort of chemistry right now.

The next few hours you had spent exclusively with Dae-ho talking about every little thing. You opened up to him about why you were in these games and what you had gone through and he listened so intently, it made your heart race. You swear your brain would short circuit when he looked at you with that look. When his head was tilted and his eyes said all the words he wanted to say with his mouth.

You couldn't believe you were crushing on a guy you just met. Sure, he was a good listener, funny, strong, nice, and everything else that makes someone perfect but you couldn't just fall in love with him. Hell, you're both in a game of death! One of you could die tomorrow so you really shouldn't be letting your heart race at 100 miles per hour just because he's cute.

Before the both of you knew it, there was already five minutes until lights out and you'd all have to go to sleep to have energy for tomorrow’s game. You looked over at Dae-ho before speaking up. “Dae-ho, I'll be back. I'm just going to use the restroom,” you say with a small smile. When he nods his head, you wave before walking off quickly towards the door. He watched as you knocked on it before having it opened by a guard and then promptly disappearing round the corner. 

He let out a sigh before turning around and walking over to Jung-bae. You were so pretty. He honestly couldn't believe you were real. Maybe his brain had made you up as a coping mechanism? You were just so perfect in his eyes. Everything he could possibly want. God, he'd love to take you to dinner sometime when both of you get out of this place so he can give you the love and attention you deserve. He just wished that he could cover your face in kisses for hours on end and hold your hand while taking a walk together. He didn't care if it was cliche. It didn't matter because it was for you.

He finally made it to Jung-Bae and took a seat next to him quietly. He shifted slightly to rest his chin on his hand and waited for Jung-Bae to ask what was on his mind. It was quiet for a few moments as Jung-bae chose to pretend like Dae-ho definitely didn’t have anything to say about you so Dae-ho made the quick decision to let out another sigh- this time much louder to catch Jung-bae’s attention and force him to ask what's on his mind.

Jung-bae turns to look at him with slight annoyance. “What? Don't just sit there and sigh. What is it?” Jung-bae asks as Dae-ho turns to look at him with a shy smile. “She’s so pretty,” he says with his face flushed slightly red, embarrassed that he was fawning over you like this. “Huh?” Jung-bae responds, confused about what he was talking about. 

“Her. She’s so pretty. She has the most amazing laugh and the cutest smile and-” Dae-ho begins to speak before receiving a smack over the back of his head making him shut up. The smile on his face drops as he looks at Jung-bae like a confused puppy.

“You're such a fool. You just met her a few hours ago,” he says as he shakes his head in disapproval. Dae-ho laughs nervously as he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “I guess.. but still. She's so perfect,” he says in poor defense. 

He hears the door open and his head snaps towards it immediately. He was hoping it was you because he already missed talking to you, even if it's only been a few minutes since you left for the bathrooms. When he sees you, he quickly smiles and, if he was a dog, anyone would see his tail wagging back and forth. Jung-bae let out a sigh and shook his head like some father who was disappointed in his son.

“You're planning to ask her out, aren't you?” He says only to get an immediate response.

“absolutely,”

clueless, kuroo tetsuro

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷  kuroo tetsuro has a thing for girls with long hair. so what if you're a girl with long hair? that doesn’t mean anything!

➼ pairing! kuroo tetsuro x fem!manager!reader

➼ warnings! none, just fluff and humor. maybe ooc because i haven't written in years??? unfortunately, because this is based on the scene of kuroo and yaku arguing about their preference, this is really for my long haired girlies 😣 i apologize to the short haired readers

➼ word count! about 1.4k

➼ author’s note! "haikyuu renassiance!" we all cheer in unison. anywho, this is my first time posting in two years. please be nice to me 🫡

"So, you prefer girls with short hair then, Yaku?" Kai asks, shedding off the white button-up of his school uniform and revealing his black practice t-shirt. The three third-year Nekoma players had found themselves in an empty classroom, deciding to use it as a makeshift changing room. Luckily for them, they had all worn their clean practice clothes under their school uniforms. Doing so allowed them to save time and cut back the number of minutes they were already going to be late to practice, thanks to Yaku getting distracted by a group of girls, which Kai noted all had short hair. Hence, his question.

Yaku paused his work of ridding himself of his tie to send Kai a proud grin, pointing towards him with both hands, “Yesss!

"And you, Kuroo?" Kai turns to him, now curious to know his captain's answer as well.

"Long." Kuroo's answer is firm, leaving no room for debate. Still, he glances at Yaku, as if daring him to try.

Yaku only snorts, shaking his head in amusement as he too turns to look at his captain, "Like that wasn't obvious."

"Ehh," Kuroo's eyes narrow, head craning down to peer at the libero, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Yaku starts, taking a step closer as he peers right back up at Kuroo, "Everyone knows you have a crush on our manager, who just so happens to have the longest hair I've ever seen!"

"Ehh?" Kuroo repeats, louder this time as he cranes his head down even more, "Who says I have a crush—"

"Hey!" The door to the classroom slides open with a shocking force, startling the boys and drawing the attention of all three of them to it. Kuroo and Yaku both grow rigid as they find you standing in its opening. Quiet pants slip past your lips, and you take a moment to catch your breath as you stare at the three of them before you begin speaking, "There you guys are! I've been looking for the three of you everywhere."

"Hello," Kai greets kindly, the only one not left in a stupor at your sudden appearance, smiling as you make your way into the classroom. "We apologize, we're running a bit late."

"Yeah," You huff, coming to a stop a few steps away from them as you cross your arms, "It was your guys' turn to set up the nets. So when you guys didn't show up in time to do so and none of you answered your phones, Coach sent me to find you guys. Didn't know I'd be going on a wild goose chase."

Your words leave you in a huff before your eyes land on Kuroo, raising an eyebrow at the captain. His shoulders tense even more at the sudden eye contact and he's quick to snap his head in the other direction. Kuroo suddenly feels warm, realizing how you could have easily heard the conversation transpiring between the three of them. Stupid Yaku, Kuroo curses the libero in his head, doesn't even know what he's talking about.

"Sorry, Y/N." And of course it’s Yaku who disrupts his thoughts, pulling Kuroo's eyes to him just as he sends you an innocent smile, "We got carried away, talking."

There's a teasing tone to Yaku's voice, and Kuroo knows it's directed at him. Why is he friends with him again?

"I don't even want to know," You speak, and Kuroo can envision you shaking your head at the three of them, "Just get dressed and get to the gym as quick as possible, please."

All three boys give some noise of recognition in response to your words, and Kuroo takes the chance to glance at you then. He's quick to regret it. Your hand rises just as he locks eyes with you, reaching up to tuck some of the more unruly pieces of your hair (which most likely came undone due to your seemingly frantic search of the three third years) behind your ear and out of your face. Kuroo's eyes follow the movement of your hand, trailing downwards and taking in the long strands of hair that fall well past your shoulders. Once again all too aware of the conversation he was just having with his teammates, the tips of his ears burn as he pulls his gaze away from you once more. He shakes his head, trying to get Yaku's words out of his mind. Just because he liked girls with long hair, and just because you so happened to be a girl with long hair, did not mean he liked you.

Right?

A snort of laughter suddenly leaves Yaku, having caught the interaction, and Kuroo turns to him with a heated glare. You don't miss the exchange between them either.

"Are you two having one of your petty arguments again?" You accuse, eyes glancing between Kuroo and Yaku who are suddenly staring back at you like two deers caught in headlights. "Seriously, you've been fighting like this since first year. What topic could you guys possibly still be discussing?"

Yaku's smirk returns as he glances at his captain with an all too knowing look before he turns back to you, "Well, if you really want to kn—"

"Nope!" Kuroo is quick to interject, speaking for the first time since you entered and drawing your attention away from Yaku and back to the captain himself. Your eyes widen as he begins to take long strides in your direction. "No arguing here!"

Your lips part, confusion taking over your features at the odd behavior your captain is displaying. You don't get the chance to say anything, however, as Kuroo makes a show of glancing at the clock on the wall before turning back to you with a dramatic gasp, "Oh, would you look at the time! We should really be heading to practice."

"You still have your school shirt on, Kuroo.” You point out when he stops in front of you, pointedly glancing down at Kuroo's attire, which consisted of his practice shorts and white button-up, with his red school tie hung loosely around his neck.

"I'll just change it once we're in the gym," Kuroo responds, waving away your interjections before he drops his hands onto your shoulders and forces you to turn around and back toward the door. You attempt to dig your heels down when he begins to push you in the direction of the door, but you're truly no match for his strength. Stupid volleyball training.

"Kuroo," You voice your protests, attempting to swat at his hands in order to get him to release you. Once again, your attempts remain futile, "Let go of me!"

"No can do! As captain and manager, it's our job to be on time to every practice. What would our team do without us?" Kuroo shakes his head, clicking his tongue as if he's scolding you. He turns back to Kai and Yaku, flashing them a warning smile, daring them to say another word. Yaku merely watches on with an unamused look, while Kai holds a placid smile. There's extra sweetness in his voice as he practically chirps out, "Bring my stuff to the club room, will you?"

"I was on time!" You retort, not giving Kai nor Yaku a chance to respond to their exasperating captain as you send them a pointed look, all the while succumbing to your fate and allowing Kuroo to push you out of the classroom. After all, he did have a point. It probably wouldn't be long before Lev managed to push somebody's buttons (most likely Yamamoto’s) one too many times and ended up in hot water. "The only reason I'm not there right now is because I came looking for you guys!"

"Ah, now is not the time to deal blame, Y/N. Our juniors are waiting on us." Kuroo argues back, shaking his head as he removes one hand from your shoulder to slide the door shut behind the two of you. Still, Yaku and Kai face the door as the sound of your guys' bickering persists. It grows quieter and quieter with each passing moment, and it isn’t until they can no longer hear your guys' voices does Yaku glance away with a shake of his head.

"He's clueless." Yaku deadpans, glancing back down at his tie as he continues to work on untying it.

Kai nods, neatly folding his button-up before placing it in his bag. "Completely."

ᥫ᭡。 flicker.

⟢ pairing: kuroo x fem!reader

⟢ summary: when you’re young and in love, it’s easy to forget that life can be far crueler than it should be at 18. but it’s also easy to forget that life can work in wonderful ways too. sometimes, you just have to wait a little for it.

⟢ cw: fluff, mild hurt/comfort, breakups, exes to lovers, mutual pining

⟢ wc: 5.1k

⟢ a/n: a slightly edited repost of a fic I wrote a couple of years ago :3

The last moment you spent with Kuroo was unremarkable. 

“Swap.”

“But I like this one.” 

“You know the rules.” With a resigned sigh you hand him your can of lychee soda, gingerly taking his bottle of aloe vera juice. Eyeing the cloudy, slightly greenish liquid, you grimace before you reluctantly raise it to your lips. You take a sip and wrinkle your nose in disgust. 

“I can’t believe you actually like this shit.” 

“Don’t be dramatic, you’ve just got childish taste buds. Besides, it’s good for you”

“I do not!” you scoff, hitting his shoulder lightly. 

“Uh-huh. And this is coming from the girl who drinks artificially flavoured sugary juice.”

“Give it back then if you don’t like it,” you huff, making a grab for it. 

“No.” He holds the can out of reach of your outstretched hand, which is not much of a feat considering how long his arms are. “It’s mine now.” 

“But you don’t even like it!” you whine. 

“Don’t care,” he shrugs, taking a sip. 

“Even if all your teeth fall out from the sugar, old man?” You raise an eyebrow challengingly.

“I’ll get dentures,” he grins, throwing you a teasing wink. “I’m sure I can make the fake teeth work. Anything’s possible when you look like this.”

“Oh, shut up will you.” You scowl at him, slumping back down on his bed beside him and sipping at the remainder of his drink in annoyance, pushing down the strong urge to spit it at him. It would be funny, and maybe start a gross little war between you, but you’re not really in the mood for that right now. 

Silence falls between you again, an obnoxiously frequent visitor on this clear, starry night. Your head falls on Kuroo’s shoulder just as his arm finds your waist and tucks you closer into his side, fingers tracing shapes over your hip. A few months ago, he would be laughing nervously and trying his hardest to play it cool, all while a hot blush lit up his cheekbones and ears. There’s very few traces of that shy boy left. You miss him a little. 

“Feels weird now that we’ve graduated,” you muse. “It’s all downhill from here.”

“Don’t be such a pessimist,” he scolds lightly. “We’ve got our whole lives ahead of us!” 

“Here we go.”

You groan as he starts his rant about life and things that are too abstract and far away into the future for you to think about. Turning your head, you watch him excitedly talk about possibilities and plans and your heart weighs down in your chest. 

This will be the last time. 

“Tetsu,” you interrupt quietly.

“Yeah?” 

“I want you to forget me after I’ve left.” You can feel how Kuroo tenses all of a sudden, the lines of his body stilling as his grip on you tightens protectively. Defiantly. 

“Woah, woah, woah- why would I do that?” he asks worriedly. You sigh heavily, sitting up so that you can look at him. He knows why. You’ve had this conversation before, several times in fact. 

“To make it easier. For both of us. We’ve talked about this before, and I’ve been thinking that it would be best.” you tell him gently, even though every cell in your body tells you not to. 

“But I don’t want to forget you,” he says stubbornly. “And who exactly is this easier for? Don’t you even want to try making this work long distance? I think we can do it.” 

“I don’t want to end up resenting you.” Kuroo’s brows pinch together. “What if I neglect you, or you neglect me? What then? What if we start hating each other?”

“You won’t! We’ll call and text everyday, it’ll be like you never left! That’s what technology is for, sweetheart.”

“But we’ll only manage to squeeze in a couple of hours each day at best because of the timezone differences and even then we might not manage that! You know it doesn’t make sense,” you point out. Your tone softens as you take his hand in yours, running your thumb soothingly over his knuckles. “You’re usually so logical, Tetsu, this isn’t like you.”

Kuroo sighs, tugging you in to rest against his chest. It’s so natural now, so effortless, how you fall into each other’s embrace. Like being there was written for you from the start. 

“Not always. Love isn’t logical y’know. You taught me that,” he murmurs into your hair. “Love tells me that I should keep you here, safe in my arms, not let you go halfway across the world for university.”

“Tetsu, you know-“

“I know, I know. Believe me, I know. I’d never hold you back, no matter what. But you can’t ask me to be logical when every cell in my body refuses to let you go. You can’t ask me to forget you because I would never be able to. How could I ever forget someone I love?” 

You cling to him more tightly, cursing every divine power that has decided to wedge itself between you. Why the fuck has life led you in this direction? It’s cruel. Unfair. 

“Don’t be so dramatic,” you mumble.

“I’m not. And despite what you say, I know you won’t forget me either. Doing this now, or before you leave, or not at all, is going to hurt us at some point.”

“Well, what do you suggest?” 

You sit up to look at him again, meeting melancholic eyes that mirror your own turmoil. Tenderly, he brushes your hair back, long fingers lingering on your cheek. 

“You might be right about the long distance thing not working,” he admits quietly. “I don’t want to give up on us but… I guess it makes sense to. We’re young, we’ll be busy - how many high school couples even last a long distance?”

“Not many, I don’t think.”

“Right. Then, for tonight, I want you to pretend with me. Let’s pretend that you’re not leaving me next week, and that we’ll see each other tomorrow, and the day after, and every day after that.”

“Will that help?” you ask sadly. He smiles ruefully and shakes his head, his dark hair bouncing with the action. 

“No. But I don’t wanna be sad about you going just yet.”

And you do just that. You talk and laugh, share stories and snacks, holding onto each other all the while through kisses and giggles. It’s pure bliss, this little bubble you’ve blown around yourselves in Kuroo’s bedroom. 

But it’s sullied by the ticking of the clock on his wall that you can’t help but repeatedly glance at. And as thatclock nears midnight and you know it’s time to leave, your heart begins to ache desperately. 

His hands rest on your hips as you stand before his closed door. When your lips meet, it’s not like your usual goodbye kisses, which are sweet and chaste. This kiss quickly becomes a deep, needy, yearning thing that you can’t pull yourself out of. You drown in the sensation of his slightly chapped lips, get lost in the taste of his still-shy tongue, melt right into the contours of his body.

You don’t even realise the two of you are crying until you pull away. You’re breathless and sobbing a little, clinging to him so tightly you’re sure it hurts him, but it doesn’t matter. 

Leaving hurts more. 

“I don’t wanna go,” you whisper. “I wanna stay with you.” He kisses your tears away, resting his forehead against yours and squeezing your frame. 

“I’m not dying or anything, why are you crying?” he teases wetly.  

“You’re crying too, dumbass.”

“So what if I am?” he sniffles, pressing tender kisses to your forehead. “My pretty girl’s leaving me forever.”

“I don’t want to, Tetsu.”

“I know, but you’ll be okay, baby. We’ll be okay,” he says, shushing you gently, but neither of you believe it for a second. 

And why would you? 

You’re 18. Young and stupid. Freshly graduated with the world at your feet and the whole of adulthood stretching on before you, a winding path that you can’t fully see. 

And yet, this is your world, right here in your arms. 

All this time, he has been by your side, naturally, but he won’t be following you into the great unknown, as much as he wishes he could. He’s seeing you off on your journey now, parting ways with you as he embarks on his own, in a different direction, even though he wants you to stay with him. He watches you from the front door as you leave, blowing you a kiss and yelling his love after your retreating figure. 

This is what it means to grow up. 

This is goodbye. 

And you both fucking hate it. 

It takes a good while to nurse your broken hearts, made more difficult by the fact that you have to adjust to new environments and new people as you heal. But you grieve and you grow and the years pass by in the blink of an eye. 

Seven years have passed since that tearful night. Seven years of study, study, study and then work, work, work. You moved back to Japan a year or so after graduating university, homesick from so many years away. You visited during that time of course, but it wasn’t quite the same as living out your daily life in the hustle and bustle of Tokyo. 

And maybe, just maybe, a small part of you dreamed that you would bump into him. Wishful thinking perhaps, but you couldn’t quite tamp down all of your feelings towards the rooster-haired captain. There’s still a small flame flickering in the depths of your heart just for him and it’s this very flame that keeps you warm on some nights. 

You wonder if that same flame burns in his own chest for you. 

The convenience store is a welcome reprieve from the summer heat that bears down on you intensely. The sounds of passing cars is muffled as the doors slide shut behind you, leaving only the whir of the air conditioner and the gentle warble of a pop group playing quietly over the radio to accompany you. 

You drift towards the back where the fridges are situated, absently inspecting bags of snacks as you pass and touching a box of pocky before changing your mind and continuing on. There’s a blast of cool air when you pull the fridge door open and hold it there with your hip as you scan the selection of beverages on display. There’s one in particular that catches your eye, conjuring a memory forth from the depths of your mind. 

With a nostalgic smile, you reach in and grasp the can of lychee soda, only for your hand to bump into one much larger than yours. 

“Ah, sorry about that,” says a smooth, deep voice. The sound sends a chill down your spine that has nothing to do with the temperature of the open fridge. 

But it can’t be, can it?

Hopeful curiosity lifts your head to look for the owner of the voice, and you have to crane your neck a little just to look up at his face. Dark hair, still messy, but more tamed than it was in his youth - now it looks deliberate. Sharp jaw, elegant nose, and those eyes, warm hazel - almost amber, and strangely feline in shape. He doesn’t look the same but he doesn’t look different either. Just a taller (somehow) more handsome and mature version of his younger self. In a suit no less, only it’s paired with volleyball shoes.

You would probably laugh out loud if your mouth didn’t feel so dry, like you’ve just eaten a fistful of sand as you gape up at him with a mix of shock and wonder. 

“I must be dreaming right now,” you whisper to yourself and the man sniggers, still inspecting the can in his hand.

Oh. That’s still the same.

“Are you talking to-“ he falters as his eyes flick to your face. “-me.” 

His face mirrors your own and you’re not sure how long you stand there, fridge wide open, until someone mumbles an ‘excuse me’ and shakes you from your respective trances. You wait for them to leave before you dare to look at each other again. 

“Tetsu?” It feels a little foreign saying his name again after so long. And yet, the weight of it sits familiar on your tongue, the roll of each syllable feels natural as it passes your lips. 

He says your name and you wonder if it tastes the same to him, if it reminds him of home the way that his does for you. “Is that you?” 

“Uh, yeah. Hi.” You awkwardly raise a hand in greeting. 

“Hi,” he says, sounding as dazed as you feel. “Almost didn’t recognise you. You look… different.”

“So do you. It’s been a while,” you offer lamely. He was never this hard to talk to, but you suppose that time is a thief that is impossible to catch, stealing the ease that you built your relationship on. 

“Yeah. It has.”

“Seven years,” you murmur with a touch of melancholy. 

“Where did the time go?” 

You both fall silent, there in the snack aisle of a convenience store in Tokyo, in the middle of summer, wondering what you should say next. Wondering what is appropriate after so much time has passed. 

Because you’ve both grown. A lot. Physically, mentally, emotionally. You’re hardly the same people you were seven years ago. It’s stupid of you to even entertain the idea that he could fall in love with you again, but you entertain it all the same. 

You’d never admit it aloud, but on some of your loneliest nights, you fantasise about what could happen if you met again. How you’d fall back together so easily, how you’d be so in love, the way that you used to be. Maybe you’d move in together, get a pet together, maybe you’d get married and have a family. Maybe you’d grow old with the only boy you’d ever loved so earnestly, so boundlessly, despite being so young. 

It’s Kuroo that finally breaks the silence. 

“Let’s catch up,” he says, with a crooked grin. “For old times sake.”

You pay for your drinks and head back out into the sun. It’s odd, you think. Tokyo is familiar and Kuroo is familiar, as well as the drink in your hand but it still feels strange to you. You’re in a different part of the city because of your new job and the brand of soda you like has changed their recipe. 

And then there’s Kuroo. 

His gait is, regrettably, longer than it used to be, as is the height at which you stand next to him. He sounds different, dresses different, he even smells different. Back then, he used to smell like far too much body spray and his grandma's honeysuckle detergent. Now? The scent coming off him is expensive and thoroughly masculine - you might even dare to say it’s incredibly sexy.

You cast him a sideways glance, belatedly noticing the can that he sips at. It’s identical to yours and you can’t help but scoff aloud.

“I thought you said that stuff was full of sugar?” Kuroo turns to look at you curiously as you both slow to a stop and point at him accusingly. “Remember? You used to nag me for drinking it.” Your lips push out in a pout at the memory of his lecture, and he laughs. 

The sound transports you back to high school, to a time where you’re still boyfriend and girlfriend, two peas in a pod, no longer clad in office wear but in your school uniforms. Kuroo’s hair is horrendous, tangled hopelessly by the wind that blows through it. You’re holding hands and bickering, but still laughing. Always laughing.

“That’s cos you used to drink it every day,” he says, the corner of his mouth lifting in that goddamn smirk. “And it’s addictive.”

“Oh is that right? Well, I did tell you as much back then. How the tables have turned!” you proclaim triumphantly. He rolls his eyes, amused by your smug expression.

“I’m not addicted to it,” he says, quirking his brow challengingly. “I still don’t like it.”

“Oh really? Then why did you get it?” You narrow your eyes at him as he shakes his head, smile softening. 

“It’s a secret,” he says, tapping his nose with a wink before he continues to walk. Your eyes narrow in a glare as you jog after him and attempt to fall back in step with him.

“Oi, slow down! Long legged bastard,” you grumble under your breath.

“What did you just call me?” he asks quietly. You freeze, clapping a hand over your mouth as realisation dawns on you. You can’t joke with him like that anymore. Not after you put millions of miles between you. What boundaries lie there now?

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-” He cackles at the look on your face, doubling over right there in the middle of the street. You fix him with a deadpan look, arms folded over your chest, thoroughly unimpressed.

“I’m kidding, relax! God, you should see your face, baby!” 

This time, you both freeze, and the illusion shatters. A soft pink stains his cheeks as his ears and brain catch up to his tongue and heart. 25, and he’s still not immune to blushing. 25, and it still makes him look hopelessly sweet. 25, and it still makes your heart swell. 

“I didn’t- shit, I’m so sorry! It just slipped out,” he yelps, panic widening his eyes. You’re not quite sure what to say to him. The pet name echoes in your ears and thunders in your chest, reawakening butterflies with Kuroo’s name scrawled across the delicate wings. Your own cheeks feel warm.

“Easy mistake to make,” you say, biting back a shy smile. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s call it even.” He clears his throat nervously and sips at his drink to give himself something to do, your own fingers fiddling with the carrier bag in your hand until he finally breaks the stifling silence. 

“I er, I know a pretty good ice cream place about 5 minutes away from here. We can catch up there?” 

“Sounds good.” 

Your walk resumes and you’re both quiet again, but this time, it’s comfortable. The little bell above the door chimes and he follows in behind you to stand at the counter, poring over the selection behind the glass.

Kuroo has brought you to a quaint little spot, tucked away between an electronics shop and a bakery. Inside, it’s cool and vibrant, the pastel palette running through the airy space brightening your mood a little. It doesn’t take either of you long to make your choices, taking your cones and finding a little booth in the back to sit at. 

Perhaps it’s a little odd for two adults in their mid-twenties to be sitting in an ice cream parlour, nibbling at ice cream cones and searching for something to say that sounds half-way cool and nonchalant. But Kuroo did say this was for the sake of old times, and what better way to plunge you into the past than a quiet booth and some ice cream. 

“So…” you start, but you don’t know how to finish. 

“So…” he copies, drawing the word out. You raise an eyebrow at him, licking at your ice cream and he mirrors you, holding the expression before you both snort and burst into laughter. 

“Fucking hell, stop making it weird!” you giggle. 

“I’m not!”

“You’re making that face!”

“Speak for yourself! Look, I just didn’t expect to run into you of all people on my way home. I’m still processing it,” he says with a grin.

“Neither did I!” His eyes soften as he smiles, crinkling at the corners. 

“So how have you been?” 

And just like that, you feel right at home again. You talk and laugh, smile brighter and bigger than you have in years. The cones have long since been polished off and you’re still occupying the booth, any concept of time tossed out the window. It’s not long before your catch-up of the present bleeds into reminiscing on the past. 

“And then Bokuto slipped and fell right into you!”

“I remember that, I would’ve fallen flat on my face if you hadn’t caught me. You never did let that go, I swear, you gloated about it for ages,” you complain, pouting in annoyance.

“You have to admit that line was pretty smooth!” He puffs his chest out a little with pride and you roll your eyes. 

You mock his deep timbre. “‘Are you falling for me?’” 

“It was cool!” 

“It was cheesy!” you both laugh at the memory, letting the feeling of nostalgia linger over you like a warm blanket just a little while longer. 

“We had some good times together,” he hums and you nod, smiling wistfully at the memories you’ve been submerging yourselves in. 

“We did.”

“I miss those days.”

“Me too.”

“No, I mean when we were together. I really loved you,” he says quietly, warm eyes burning with sincerity. 

“I did too.” You heart thuds heavily in your chest at the implications in his gaze but you force yourself to rein it in and squash the hope that flutters there. “But we were so young. Immature. Naive.”

“So?” He almost sounds offended. “Does that mean it didn’t count or something?”

“No, I’m not saying that.” You shake your head and sigh. “I’m just saying, I’m sure you’ve dated other people since then and fallen in love again. Real love, not the silly delusions of a teen.”

“Our love was real.” 

Your breath hitches then at the fire in his eyes, a fire that you recognise, the same as the one that burns quietly in the depths of your heart. You try to shift his attention. 

“Aren’t you dating anyone right now?” you ask hesitantly, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. 

“No,” he says fiercely, but then he cools a bit and leans back in his seat. “No. I’m not. I’ve tried, but… Nothing ever stuck. How about you?” 

“I tried too,” you murmur. “But I couldn’t love them in the right way, I guess.” 

Not the way I loved you. 

The air between you becomes heavy with words unsaid crowding the tips of your tongues all at once, piling against your teeth and begging to break free. Kuroo calls your name, and your belly flutters in the way that it used to. 

He calls out to you again and it’s so soft, so Kuroo, that your heart aches. You watch him carefully, waiting for him to keep speaking with bated breath. “Can I tell you a secret?” 

“Yeah.” 

He sucks in a shaky breath and adds another secret to the pile housed deep in your heart, still kept firmly under lock and key. 

“I drink them when I miss you.” 

You pause, brow furrowing in confusion. 

“Drink what?” 

Kuroo’s expression turns exasperated as he runs a hand through his neater-than-it-used-to-be hair. The blush from before returns, tinging his ears red with embarrassment. 

“The lychee soda.” 

Oh. 

Oh. 

“So… today?” 

He nods sheepishly, covering his face with his hand. 

“How was I supposed to know I’d bump into you?” he mumbles again. You say nothing, marvelling at the man before you instead. Still as sweet as the day you met him. Years have passed, and so many things have changed. And yet, somehow, Kuroo remembers you the way that you remember him.

No, not remember, he misses you the way that you miss him, still finding comfort in the warmth of that flame, just like you. Still finding solace in bubbles and sugar.

“Tetsu-” 

“Weird right?” he chuckles humourlessly and you shake your head no. 

“No, it’s not weird. Not really,” you say, fiddling with the napkin in front of you. “You did say you wouldn’t forget me.” 

“True,” he hums. 

“And if it makes you feel any better, I didn’t forget you either.”

“You didn’t?” A warm flush creeps up your own cheeks this time as you nod and give in a little. 

“I missed you, Tetsu. I know it’s been such a long time, and holding onto hope that I’d see you again is probably really fucking stupid, not to mention unhealthy, but-“ 

“I couldn’t help it,” you say simultaneously. 

Slowly, identical giddy grins spread over your faces and you find yourselves giggling like teenagers all over again. 

“Let me take you out tomorrow,” Kuroo says suddenly with that lopsided grin that you fell in love with all those years ago.

“On a date?” 

“If you want it to be. Or even just as friends. But seeing you again, it’s just-“ you halt him with a raised hand, a teasing grin playing at your lips as your head cocks to the side. 

“Tell me about it on our date, yeah?” 

And he does. 

The date with Kuroo is truly magical. He’s a picture perfect gentleman, coming to pick you up with a bouquet of fresh, red roses in hand and a happy grin on his face. It seems that both of you have dressed to impress, Kuroo dressed neatly in a crisp white shirt and charcoal trousers whilst you spent hours scouring your wardrobe for the perfect dress. It’s honestly a little ridiculous when you think back on it since you knew each other so well already, so why would you need to impress each other?

But that was then, and this now. 

There seems to be a goal in Kuroo’s mind as he helps you out of his shiny black Jaguar, leading you into a fancy looking restaurant. It’s clear he’s spared no expenses for the occasion. You eat and drink and laugh, allowing yourselves to get pulled back together again, like magnets. The flames in your hearts burn brighter, more fiercely with each passing moment, until you can feel the warmth spread throughout your bodies, lapping gently through your veins. 

As the night draws to a close and he drives you home, full, content and sleepy, you feel more whole than you’ve felt in the entirety of your adult life. You glance to the side, taking in his beautiful profile, that exquisite jawline and the curve of his lips that you want to feel on yours again. 

You wonder if they taste the same as they did back in high school. If they still taste like the gum he used to chew or those ghastly health drinks he was obsessed with. Sometimes, he’d chase you around campus right after eating mackerel for lunch, threatening to kiss you with the strong flavour of fish still lingering in his mouth. Are his lips still a little chapped? Does he still grin into his kisses as his fingers rest on your cheek? Make that sweet little humming noise in the back of his throat that sounds like laughter? Does he still wear a goofy smile when he pulls away?

All thoughts of kissing him are shaken from your mind as he kills the engine and walks you all the way to the front door of your apartment. You unlock the door and turn to say goodbye, a little sad that the night has to end. Kuroo rests his arm against the door frame above his head, car keys dangling from his hand and a lazy smile sitting comfortably on his handsome features. 

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” he says.

“Me too.” 

“I guess I’ll see you soon?” 

Those words should be followed closely with a goodbye, but Kuroo lingers, as does his gaze, flicking from your eyes to your lips and back again. 

“Kiss me if I’m wrong,” he says after a beat of silence. “But you kissed me on our first ever date, didn’t you?” You hum thoughtfully, an impish grin rounding your cheeks. 

“No, actually I didn't. It was the second date and it was on the cheek cos you looked like you were ready to pass out when I got close to your lips.”

“I did not!” he whines indignantly. 

“Did too,” you shrug. 

“That’s bullshit,” he mumbles. “Anyway, I’m wrong so now you have to kiss me.”

“Real smooth, Tetsuro.”

“I know, now if you’ll let me, I want to overwrite that first kiss.” 

“How? We’ve kissed a million times before,” you argue. 

“That was then, this is now. We’re restarting this whole thing,” he insists.

“We are?” You raise an eyebrow in question and he simply nods, cocksure and firm. 

“We are.”

“Says who?”

“Me.” Kuroo takes a step forward and suddenly there’s very little space between you. “So? Will you let me have a redo?” he murmurs. 

“You can try. The first time was pretty sweet. It’d be pretty hard to top it.” 

“Challenge accepted, baby.”

With that, his hands slip around your waist and pull you flush against his firm body. When his lips slant down over yours, you still have to reach up to meet him, eyes fluttering shut as your lips meet after seven years apart. 

He is all you remember and so much more, so much better than before, as if that were even possible. You learn that he tastes sweet like dessert, but he still tastes like your Tetsu. He grins against your lips as you press closer and you praise whoever the fuck convinced him to regularly use chapstick because his lips are so soft and pliant against yours. His kisses are dizzyingly good, addictive and sensual, his fingers resting against the back of your neck whilst his palm sits along the curve of it. You sigh into his mouth, one of relief, because you’re finally home. 

Where you belong. 

As fate intended. 

When Kuroo pulls away, there’s a sparkle in his eyes and he smiles so sweetly you think that sugar will never taste the same again. He brushes a stray lock of your hair back, letting his thumb linger over the warm apple of your cheek. 

“Can I say something?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I have to warn you, it’s a little unconventional for a rebooted first date,” he chuckles.  

Then, his expression becomes a little more serious. “But I really, really fucking love you and I don’t think I ever stopped.” Your heart swells and spills over as his grip on your waist tightens. 

“I love you too,” you say, and you really can’t resist so you tug him back towards your lips and kiss him again. 

“So.”

Again

“So.”

And again. 

“So much.” 

Fate nods and lets you love him all over again. 

—   ( SUMMER RAIN )

˚ SUMMARY. two unlikely students are paired together for a documentary — but sometimes love finds us in peculiar ways ( aka an our beloved summer au. or also in other words high school unlikely match / rival au )

˚ FEATURING. ayato, albedo, childe, kaeya, thoma, xiao x gn! reader

˚ WARNINGS. mentions of “pretty” in albedo’s. mild swearing. usage of mx

˚ LINKS. masterlist

˚ NOTES. im posting this even though it technically isnt valentines day yet for me but by the time i post this tmrw it wont be valentines for most people so … enjoy !! all fluff :D

( interlude )

“a documentary,” you say, slowly.

“yes,” the cameraman says. “it’s only for a month. we’re pairing up the [pair] and we’ll basically filming you throughout the month. just pretend we aren’t there — it’s just a documentary about youth life, and you just go on about your day-to-day lives.”

you hesitate. this sounds like a mistake.

it’s one month, a voice in your head whispers. you can do one month, can’t you?

you clear your throat. “so who’s the other person going to be?”

ayato: most proper and least proper

kamisato ayato has a rep around inazuma high and it isn’t necessarily a bad one

the only thing you know about him is that his family practically runs the town

and apparently, an asshole

he has a rep for being closed off – you never see him hang out with anyone other than his sister and thoma. and you’re on good terms with thoma - but you’ve never talked to ayato

you’ve never had reason to; you’re never in the same class as him, and he always seemingly disappears every time you approach thoma

stuck up ass, is basically what you’ve always thought of him; he often had an air to him that said he’s too good for everyone

you think he looks down on you because you’re not as prestigious as he is - he’s proper, he comes from a rich family. he probably doesn’t even need the money from the documentary

still, at first, in the documentary, you try to be friends with him.

it goes horribly wrong.

on the first day of the documentary, you buy yourself a coffee at the local coffee shop. and you end up buying him one as well

however, when you try to give it to him, you end up tripping it and spilling it all over his business project that he’s stayed up all night to work on

there’s a beat of absolute silence as he slowly looks up to stare at you. you swear his eyes are burning holes into your head

and then he slowly looks back down, grabbing his water bottle, unscrewing the top lid, presumably to take a drink.

“sorry” you say, hurriedly. “i was trying to give you coffee, because i know you always stay up-”

he dumps the water over your head

a small shriek gets stuck in your throat, as you get soaked from head to toe

“i said sorry,” you say. your voice isn’t angry, still in shock. but the anger rises in your chest all the same

“oh.” he looks back down at his project. his voice is nothing short of sarcastic. “sorry.”

and then, at that moment, you decide that you hate this kid. with a burning passion

and of course he never gets into trouble because nobody would ever suspect ayato of doing something bad

the only person who sympathizes with you is thoma who just shrugs with a crooked grin and says “he’s sly. there’s a reason he’s never gotten caught.”

you’re forced to sit in the same classes, next to each other, for the sake of the documentary

but even through the filming, you’ve never been afraid to tell the camera how much you dislike ayato

“oh things i hate?” you ask, staring at the camera. “kamisato ayato.”

he doesn’t turn his head to you but you can see his scowl all the same. “funny, i was going to say the same.”

your arguments are equivalent to a child’s argument — often times, when arguments spark, they’re accidents like the coffee; it only gives him more fuel to dislike you, and you to dislike him

once, he decides to give you coffee with a “sorry :(“ sticky note attached to it

and like the fool you are, you decide to drink it

he watches from outside the door, not being able to resist a smirk

salt floods your taste buds, but instead of spitting it out, you make eye contact with him in the door and continue to down the entire thing

ayato also basically has this claim to a parking spot in the school - it’s not technically his, but everyone’s agreed it’s ayato’s spot

you stole it as soon as you could

it becomes a competition on who can get to school first to steal the spot. and that leads to both of you being to school two hours earlier

which means you actually spend a lot of time together ! and soon, your dislike for him, melts into something softer

you like spending time with him. in fact, you look forward to it

and you don’t miss how his smiles become fond - sometimes, when you’re on the verge of falling asleep in class, you see him smile softly as you rest your head on his shoulders

or sometimes, when you wake up, you just find his jacket over your shoulders

and there’s this one time when someone else makes an off hand comment about your clumsiness

the next day, the kid doesn’t show up to school. and when he shows up again, his face is bright red and his hair has been dyed green

when you turn to ayato, he just gives you his signature smirk with a shrug. “i don’t get caught.”

you two end up terrorizing your teachers. they never figure out who has been leaving alarm clocks around the building to disturb class, and ayato always turns to you with a fond smile

“how do i feel about y/n now?” he breaks into a soft smile. “i love them — i couldn’t ask for a better partner in crime. but don’t tell them i said that. i will never hear the end of it.”

albedo: smart & smart

you’ve never talked to albedo before this - but you’ve noticed him from afar

you’re both top of your class - both of you competing for number one spot

he’s never had many feelings towards you, other than the fact that you’re smart. he notices your name on the top scorers of exams, but knows nothing of you other than that

you never see albedo hang out with anyone - he has a few people he talks to, but none that he ever seems to be friends with

and it’s not for a lack of trying either - you ask kaeya about him once, wanting to get an idea of who albedo was

and kaeya just says “albedo — a strange one. he’s nice. but don’t interrupt him while he’s working. or ask him to hang out. he will always say no. it’s quite embarrassing.”

but when you talk to albedo, he’s actually quite nice! he’s never been anything but kind to you

you work together on a lab, and he’s always been patient with you. you’re able to bounce ideas off each other, and you’ve never worked with someone better

the rivalry doesn’t kick in until the second day. and then oh boy

but you also work at a daycare after school hours — and there, you take care of a child named klee

and you love klee ! klee’s the best !

sometimes, you help klee make these little water bombs as pranks to help her terrorize this “big bad brother” she complains about in daycare

and you share all your knowledge with her

and then, one day, when klee decides to set off her bombs on “big bad brother” albedo asks klee where she learned to make these new kind of bombs

klee — the absolute icon she is — isn’t able to keep a secret. “mx y/n helped me,” she says, sheepishly, swinging back and forth

albedo stops. “y/n l/n?”

klee shrugs. “i think. they says they’re your age. i like mx y/n more than you. they let me go fish blasting!”

so the next day, albedo, naturally comes to ask if you work in a daycare and you know klee

“yeah, i know klee.” you chuckle, thinking about her. “the other day, i helped her make mini water bombs — not a dangerous kind, don’t worry — to prank her brother. she’s amazing.”

he gives you a deadpan look. “klee’s my sister.”

oh. oh shit.

“and by the way,” he says, “i make better water bombs than you.”

and if to prove it, the next day, you find a container on your desk. and when you open it, water sprays in your face

and next to you, albedo is chuckling

oh it is so on.

you do most of your pranks through klee, bribing her to prank albedo. and albedo does the same

you both compete to be klee’s favorite — and whenever albedo comes pick klee up, you both have to tone down on the swearing

but you two are never mean to each other - it’s always been fun little pranks, with no mean intentions behind it, something you both know

“how do you feel about albedo?” the cameramen ask you, once, for the documentary.

“albedo?” the cameras don’t miss the small smile that spreads across your face. “he’s kind. a little closed off, but an absolute menace.”

but even though your words don’t say the whole truth, the cameras catch it

the cameras catch every time when you’re working late in the lab and he brings snacks for you

or every time either of you don’t understand something, you’re always patient, while explaining it to the other

or sometimes, during class, if you’ve pulled an all nighter, he’ll let you rest on his shoulder as he takes a little more notes as usual that way you’ll be caught up in class

and one day, when you’re taking of klee, she tells you

“my brother says he likes you.” she grins from ear to ear. “he says you’re very pretty.”

needless to say, you played a clip of your documentary at the wedding

“how do i feel about y/n?” albedo hums. “don’t tell them i said this, but i’m happy klee likes them. i want to make them apart of our family.”

more undercut !

Keep reading

Something about how unhinged the Salesman/Recruiter does something to me. What if the reader is also a recruiter for the games? She's gotten used to his insane persona and knows how to handle it since they have to communicate about work. They'll often play games during these chats.

Sorry too many ideas floating!

𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑇𝑤𝑜 [𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑆𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑚𝑎𝑛]

.・。.・゜✭・

.・。.・゜✭・

ʀᴇᴏ̨ᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ:ʏᴇs ᴏʀ ɴᴏ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴛʜᴇ sᴀʟᴇsᴍᴀɴ x ғᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:ʜᴇ sᴍɪʀᴋᴇᴅ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛɪʟᴇ ғʟɪᴘᴘᴇᴅ ʜɪs ʏᴇᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ, ᴛʜᴇ sʜᴀʀᴘ ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋ ᴏғ ᴘᴀᴘᴇʀ ᴏɴ ᴡᴏᴏᴅ ᴇᴄʜᴏɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀғᴇ́, ʙᴜᴛ ғᴏʀ ᴏɴᴄᴇ, ʜɪs ᴡᴏʀᴅs ʜᴇʟᴅ ɴᴏ ᴛᴇᴀsɪɴɢ ᴇᴅɢᴇ. "ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ɢᴀᴍᴇ, "ʜᴇ sᴀɪᴅ, ʜɪs ɢᴀᴢᴇ ʟɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ, "ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ɪ'ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴀʟʟ ᴀʟᴏɴɢ."

ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs: ᴛᴇɴsɪᴏɴ, ɢᴀᴍʙʟɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

The café was bustling, but the hum of life around you barely registered. Your focus remained on the chair across from you, still empty despite the time ticking by. He was late, as usual.

You stirred your coffee, letting the bitter scent ground you. Working with him was a test of patience and resilience, but it was also... oddly thrilling. The Salesman, you didn't know his name since he was very isolated, was chaos incarnate, unpredictable in the worst—and sometimes best—ways.

“Miss me?”

You didn’t jump at his voice; you were too used to his dramatic entrances by now. He slid into the chair across from you, his ever-present smirk firmly in place. His dark suit was immaculate, the red tie a glaring slash of color that caught the light.

“You’re late,” you said, lifting your coffee for a sip.

“Fashionably so,” he quipped, leaning back and lacing his fingers behind his head. “But I see you’ve kept my seat warm. How thoughtful.”

“Hardly.” You set the cup down with a faint smirk of your own. “If you’d been much later, I’d have left.”

“Ah, but you didn’t.” He leaned forward, his sharp gaze locking onto yours. “You never do.”

The weight of his words hung between you for a moment, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, you gestured to the briefcase he’d placed on the table.

“Are we doing this, or are you just here to waste my time?”

His grin widened as he reached into the case, pulling out a familiar bundle wrapped in cloth. Unfolding it revealed two ddakji tiles—bright squares of red and blue paper, their edges slightly worn from use.

“You know the drill,” he said, setting them on the table. “Winner takes all.”

“And by ‘all,’ you mean…?”

He chuckled. “Coffee, pride, the satisfaction of victory. Take your pick.”

You sighed, already reaching for one of the tiles. “Fine. One round.”

The first smack of the tile hitting the table drew a few curious glances from nearby patrons. The Salesman’s opening move was quick and sharp, flipping your tile with ease.

“Your turn,” he said, lounging back in his chair.

You studied his expression, the faint flicker of amusement in his eyes. He was too confident, as always. But you’d learned how to read him—his subtle tells, the little quirks that betrayed his intentions.

With a precise flick of your wrist, your tile hit his at just the right angle. It flipped cleanly, landing with the blue side up.

“Hmm,” you said, feigning indifference. “Looks like you’re buying the coffee.”

For a moment, he just stared at the upturned tile. Then, to your surprise, he laughed—a genuine, full-throated laugh that drew more glances from the other customers.

“Well played,” he said, clapping his hands together. “You’ve been practicing.”

“Or maybe you’re just slipping,” you replied, leaning back with a smirk.

He narrowed his eyes, but the smile on his face didn’t falter. “Careful, recruiter. Pride comes before the fall."

As the game ended, the conversation shifted seamlessly into work. He described his latest target with the enthusiasm of a storyteller spinning a particularly twisted tale.

“Mid-thirties, father of two, drowning in debt,” he said, ticking the details off on his fingers. “His wife just left him, and his parents refuse to help. Classic case. He’ll fold like wet paper.”

You nodded, though something about his tone made you uneasy. “And what happens when he doesn’t make it?”

“That’s not our concern, is it?” He leaned forward, his smile taking on a sharper edge. “We’re just here to open the door. What happens after they walk through it is up to them.”

You hated how easily he dismissed it, but you couldn’t deny the truth in his words. Still, the gnawing discomfort refused to leave.

“You’re thinking too much,” he said, watching you closely. “It’s a dangerous habit in this line of work.”

“Someone has to think,” you shot back.

His grin widened. “Touché.”

The tension between you had always been an undercurrent, a quiet hum that neither of you acknowledged outright. But tonight, it felt sharper, closer to the surface.

“You know,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence, “you’re the only one who’s ever beaten me at ddakji more than once.”

“Maybe you’re not as good as you think you are,” you replied, keeping your tone light.

“Or maybe,” he said, his gaze steady and uncomfortably intense, “you’re the only one who knows how to play my game.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and electric. For a moment, you wondered if he’d crossed a line, but then he leaned back, the smirk returning to his face as if nothing had happened.

“Another round?” he asked, already reaching for the tiles.

You hesitated, the weight of his earlier words still lingering. But then you nodded, picking up your tile.

“Fine,” you said. “One more round.”

This time, the game wasn’t just about tiles. It was about control, power, and something else you couldn’t quite name.

The tiles hit the table with sharp, precise smacks, the sound echoing louder in your ears with each round. Your focus narrowed, every move calculated, every flick of his wrist analyzed.

Smack!

Your tile flipped his for the second time that night.

He stared at the table, then back at you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you thought he might be angry, but then he smiled—a real, genuine smile that softened the sharp edges of his face.

“Congratulations,” he said, his voice quieter than before. “Looks like you win again.”

The words felt like more than just an acknowledgment of the game.

And as you sat there, the faint buzz of the café fading into the background, you realized something.

Maybe you weren’t just playing his game. Maybe he was playing yours, too.

currently have 6-7 requests atm, thank you so much! I'll definitely do them after I finish my in-ho and salesman fics. I might incorporate your requests in my upcoming fics too (if the shoe fits ofc)

tysm for the support :>

Could you write ryusui x reader where after they break him out of the stone, he refuses to do anything until his s/o is found and de petrified? Comfy cute reunion as well?? I love your blog, thank you!!

OMG, THIS REQUEST. I love Ryusui and this was waaaay too cute! I tried my best, but I feel like I didn't do it justice ( ; ω ; ) I hope you'll still enjoy it nonetheless!

ryusui nanami ♡

Minami was already against the idea of reviving Ryusui, as she knew his boldpersonality (it was a sweet way to put it) would most definitely cause problems. However, she quickly concluded that Senku didn't seem to care about these sort of things, as he poured the revival fluid on Ryusui's statue under her eyes.

His loud outburst as he was freed from his stone prison had everyone speechless. Minami could only look back at Senku as a way to say, “I told you so!”, but he avoided her gaze.

And as Ryusui realized that the world had changed, while Senku explained to him what was the reason behind his revival, he came to a stop.

“There seems to be a misunderstanding. Will I thank you for reviving me, I can only help you under one condition.” He stated, arms crossed against his chest. Senku blinked, before sighing. “And what's this condition?”

“I refuse to do anything until (Y/n) is revived.” Ryusui affirmed, and Senku groaned. He was starting to run out of the fluid, and he wanted him to use it again?

“(Y/n)...” Minami whispered, tasting the name on her tongue. “Is that your partner?” She suddenly asked, as vague memories slowly resurfaced.

“That's right!” He claimed proudly, fingers snapping. “And until they're not here, I'm not helping.”

Minami knew that there was no point in arguing. Ryusui wouldn't take no for an answer, because as soon as he desired something, he would obtain it no matter what it took. And you seemed to be his top priority.

“(Y/n) is indispensable. I'll have you know that they're the best assistant you could ask for, and their skills should be as needed as mine.” Ryusui declared, and Senku could only wonder if it was love speaking or not. He only had one revival fluid left, and without any way to produce it again, he couldn't allow to waste it only to grant Ryusui's wish.

“Well...while the media weren't too focused on them, I remember reading their name multiple times on significant articles.” Minami whispered, hand under her chin. At this, Ryusui smiled proudly.

“That's right! They're the best!” He shouted, voice full of fondness. Minami couldn't help but think that his devotion towards you was quite adorable. She also wondered how you managed to handle him...

“Well, since it's the only way...” Senku whispered, more to himself than anything. If you were competent, there was no reason for him to protest.

It didn't take long to find you. Ryusui crouched down beside your statue, fingertips slowly stroking your cold cheek. Since he met you, you were always on his side and never failed to support his dreams and wishes, no matter how selfish they seemed. Eager to learn how to navigate, Ryusui taught you everything. So how could he let you behind, when you made everything brighter?

As Senku poured the revival fluid on you, Ryusui watched in fascination as the stone slowly started to break, revealing patches of soft skin.

You blinked, eyebrows furrowed as you tried to understand where you were. Your eyes landed on Ryusui's face, and despite your confusion, you could only melt at his dazzling smile.

“Ryusui? In what mess did you get us into again?” You asked, and before you could even sit up, he picked you up, while laughing at your surprised squeal.

He spun with you in his arms, a hand under your tighs and the other behind your head. You giggled at his childish antics as he stared at you lovingly, glad to see your face again after all these years.

As Ryusui steadied himself, you started to realize that you weren't alone and that you were in fact, naked. In front of all these people.

You buried yourself against Ryusui, trying to hide your body and keep a once of decency.

“Could you...lend me your coat?” You whispered, face flushed. Ryusui blinked, before staring at you without shame. Oh, how much you wanted to strangle him.

“Ryusui! Your coat!” “Sorry, sorry! Here!” He replied, lips tugged into a smug smile. As he helped you to put it, you watched from the corner of your eyes all these new faces. Bashful, most of them looked away making you smile. They didn't seem so bad.

Now fully clothed, Senku approached you, hands on his hips. You listened to him as he explained why Ryusui and you were needed. He didn't forget to mention Ryusui's caprice about you, and you had to restrain a laugh. Of course, he would.

“So, was I truly the only condition for you to help them?” You murmured to the blond-haired man, suspicious. While you didn't doubt about his insistence to revive you, you knew Ryusui better than everyone.

“Well, you were the most important condition, of course!” He started, ruffling your hair. “But since we're going to be in charge of their lives, I fully intend for them to pay us.” He continued, only for you to hear. There was your Ryusui.

“What? You know me, I'm an avid man after all!” He stated as you gave him a pointed look.

“How did you manage to make me fall in love with you, I'll never understand.” You sighed, but as he leaned towards you to kiss you tenderly, you smiled.

“And now?” He asked playfully. “Maybe your irresistible charm helped, yeah.”

Can I request frontman x reader(Any gender) Where the frontman meets the reader OUTSIDE of his games, and then realizes he likes them?

(Sorry if I expressed myself a little unclearly)

soju | hwang in-ho x fem! reader

*.✧ synopsis: after rescuing a stranger late at night. hwang in-ho finds himself sharing soju with the girl he just saved. under the glow of the convenience store, an unexpected bond forms, offering a fleeting escape from his solitude. *.✧ word count: 3.7k *.✧ warnings: happens outside squidgame, attempted crime directed at reader, drinking, mentions of death. don't go drinking with people you don't know alone btw, this is just fiction. *.✧ note: hello to the requestor! hopefully this tickled your fancy :P thought about it earlier so I decided why not? I wrote this in 5 hours, hopefully it suffices. shorter than my past works! also a different writing approach. masterlist | request here

༉‧₊˚. As the overseer of the Squid Games, Hwang In-ho has an insane amount of workload like no other. Setting up the venue, recruiting trusted employees, and scouring for rich sponsors are just a few of the countless tasks he manages every year. ༉‧₊˚. He’s a busy man, constantly on his feet, ensuring everything runs seamlessly. But when his boss, Oh Il-nam, forced him to take a week off, he was left with an unfamiliar emptiness in his schedule, unsure how to fill his time. ༉‧₊˚. Currently, he’s sitting outside a small convenience store, a bottle of soju in hand. It’s nearly midnight—11:58 PM, to be exact—and the streets are eerily quiet. ༉‧₊˚. The air is cool, the weather perfect, and for a moment, it feels peaceful. With no one around, it’s just him and his thoughts. It’s a strangely calming experience, though the loneliness creeps in at the edges. ༉‧₊˚. As the Frontman, he has no companions he can freely invite to moments like this. No friends, no family, and no one to share his burdens. ༉‧₊˚. It’s not a bad thing, he tells himself. After all, solitude means safety. Yet, there’s a part of him that yearns for someone to confide in—someone who wouldn’t judge him for the ruthlessness his position demands.

As In-ho took another shot, the warm burn of soju did little to chase away the emptiness in his chest. The faint hum of neon signs and the soft rustle of leaves were the only sounds accompanying him, a quiet solitude he had come to both expect and resent.

Then a scream shattered the night, sharp and jarring. It pierced through the calm like a knife, slicing his thoughts in two.

He froze, the glass of soju hovering mid-air. For a brief moment, he did nothing, his body stiff with instinctual awareness. But before he could overthink it, his years as a police officer took over. He stood abruptly, scanning the dark street for the source of the commotion.

Down the road, just beyond the glow of the convenience store, two drunk men loomed over a figure, their rough voices slurred with mockery. The figure struggled in vain, her cries muffled by one man’s grip.

In-ho didn’t think. He didn’t hesitate. His strides were purposeful, his steps heavy with intent. “Hey!” he barked, his voice sharp and commanding. “Let her go!”

The drunk men froze, startled by his sudden approach. One of them turned, squinting at him in drunken confusion, before muttering something incoherent. But whatever courage they might have had faltered under the weight of In-ho’s glare, his presence exuding a quiet but dangerous authority. Without another word, they staggered off, stumbling into the shadows.

The figure crumpled to the ground as soon as she was released, her body trembling with shock. In-ho approached cautiously, his gaze softening. “Hey,” he said gently, kneeling down beside her. “Are you hurt?”

There was no response. Her breathing was ragged, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. In-ho hesitated, unsure if his presence was more comforting or alarming. Slowly, he shrugged off his coat, its fabric worn but warm, and draped it over her trembling frame.

“Here,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “This’ll keep you warm.”

The weight of the coat seemed to ground her, and she finally looked up at him, her tear-streaked face illuminated by the faint glow of the convenience store’s sign. Her eyes were wide and glossy, a mixture of fear and gratitude.

With a steady hand, In-ho helped her to her feet. She was light, almost fragile, as if a strong wind could knock her over. “Come on,” he said, guiding her gently back to where he had been sitting.

Once there, he gestured for her to sit, his movements deliberate and unhurried. For a while, neither of them spoke. The quiet stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was a moment of reprieve, a chance for her to catch her breath.

“Thank you…” she finally said, her voice soft and trembling.

In-ho turned to her, his expression unreadable. “It’s no problem,” he replied, his tone calm but distant. “Just doing my job as a policeman.”

The words felt foreign on his tongue, a ghost of a past he didn’t like to dwell on. But he pushed those thoughts aside. “What are you doing out here at this time anyway?” he asked, his voice softer now.

She hesitated, pulling the coat tighter around her shoulders. “I just came out to grab something from the store,” she said quietly, glancing at the convenience store behind them. “Didn’t expect to run into… that.”

In-ho nodded slowly, studying her. She avoided his gaze, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the edge of his coat. “What were you buying?” he asked, his tone casual, trying to put her at ease.

She blinked, then let out a small, embarrassed chuckle. “Just snacks. Ramyeon, chips… comfort food, I guess.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips. “Comfort food at midnight? Sounds serious.”

“It’s nothing dramatic,” she replied, shaking her head. “Just one of those nights where you need something to make it feel a little less heavy, you know?”

In-ho’s smile faded, replaced by something more contemplative. He nodded again, his gaze dropping to the half-empty bottle of soju beside him. “I get it,” he said quietly.

The silence returned, but this time it was lighter, less oppressive. After a moment, In-ho reached for the spare cup he had brought earlier, rinsing it with a splash of soju. “You drink?” he asked, breaking the quiet.

She glanced at him, surprised by the question. “Uh… sometimes.”

He tilted his head toward the bottle, the faintest trace of a smile on his lips. “Well, since you’ve already had a rough night, might as well join me. One drink won’t hurt.”

She hesitated, her gaze flickering between him and the bottle. Then, with a small nod, she said, “Sure. Why not?”

In-ho poured her a drink, the clear liquid catching the dim light as it filled the cup. He handed it to her, their fingers brushing briefly as she accepted it.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice a little steadier now.

He raised his own cup in a quiet toast, their eyes meeting for a brief moment before they drank. The burn of the soju was familiar, grounding.

For the first time that night, the gnawing loneliness in In-ho’s chest seemed to ease, replaced by the quiet comfort of shared company. There was no need for words—just the soft clink of glasses and the understanding that, sometimes, even the smallest connection could make the night feel a little less heavy.

༉‧₊˚. After three cups, In-ho quickly noticed that she wasn’t handling the alcohol too well. The slight slur in her words and the way she began to lean more heavily on the table after each sip made it clear. ༉‧₊˚. He felt so stupid inviting a girl with low alcohol tolerance to drink, but there was no backing out now. ༉‧₊˚. At first, he was concerned. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel worse because of the soju. But as the conversation continued, he began to notice something else. ༉‧₊˚. The alcohol seemed to help her relax, peeling back the careful guard she had when they first sat down. Her genuine personality emerged, warm and unfiltered, and for the first time that night, she seemed completely at ease.

“Y’know,” she said, words stretching slightly as she rested her chin in her hand, “you’re not as scary as you look.”

In-ho raised an eyebrow, amused. “Scary? Is that how you saw me?”

“Mmhm,” she hummed, nodding a little too enthusiastically. “When you came running over earlier, I thought you were gonna punch them in the face… which, by the way, would’ve been really cool.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I’ll take that as a compliment, I guess.”

“Good, ‘cause it was meant to be one,” she replied, pointing at him with a slightly wobbly finger. “You’re like one of those grumpy cats. All intimidating on the outside but probably super soft if you get to know them.”

“That’s quite the comparison,” he said, smirking, unsure whether to be insulted or impressed.

She shrugged, leaning back in her chair, her eyes still bright. “I’m just saying what I see.”

In-ho found himself amused despite himself, the playful jab catching him off guard. “So, what else do you see?” he asked, curiosity creeping in, but keeping his tone casual.

She raised an eyebrow, considering the question for a moment, then grinned. “I think you’re the type of person who pretends not to care but secretly does. And that makes you kind of a softie.”

“Wow, that’s deep,” he said with a chuckle. “Did you come up with that all on your own?”

She nodded, looking proud. “Yep. I’m a great judge of character.”

He shook his head, clearly entertained by her. “Well, I guess I’ll take your word for it.”

She tilted her head, studying him for a moment, her smile softening. “You’re not as serious as you seem,” she said thoughtfully.

In-ho met her gaze, surprised by the shift. “Is that a compliment too?”

“Maybe,” she replied with a shrug. “But it’s true. You’ve got this whole... tough guy thing going on, but I can tell you’re not really like that.”

He let out a small laugh, leaning back in his chair. “You sure know how to read people, huh?”

She smiled, a bit smug now. “I told you, I’m good at this.”

༉‧₊˚. In-ho wasn’t the type to open up to strangers easily, but there was something about this encounter that felt different. ༉‧₊˚. Maybe it was the ease with which she joked, her humor a refreshing change from the weight of his usual silence. Her teasing nature and quick wit chipped away at the walls he usually kept firmly in place. ༉‧₊˚. She wasn’t scared of his tough exterior, and in some strange way, that made him feel… lighter. Her playful comments about him being too serious made him laugh—something he hadn’t done in a long time. ༉‧₊˚. One bottle of soju turned into two, then three, with neither of them really keeping track. The night, which had started off quiet and somber, slowly transformed. The stillness gave way to a lively energy, filled with soft laughter, comfortable silences, and warm conversation. ༉‧₊˚. As the alcohol worked its magic, the distance between them seemed to vanish. It wasn’t just the soju—there was something about her presence that made In-ho forget about the heaviness that often weighed on his mind. ༉‧₊˚. Her words were easy, her tone warm, and she spoke with such ease that it made him feel as though he could let go of all the unspoken burdens. She didn’t push him for anything, didn’t try to draw out his thoughts. She just was, and somehow that made the night feel less lonely.

“I mean, think about it,” she said, her giggles spilling out as she waved her chopsticks for emphasis. “If you weren’t a cop, you could totally be one of those broody action movie guys. You know the type—sharp jawline, mysterious aura…” She trailed off for a second, tilting her head as though she were analyzing him. “Like Lee Byung-hun!"

"You’d totally be the antihero. Do you practice glaring in the mirror, or is it just… natural?” She added, slurring a bit.

In-ho blinked, caught off guard by the question. His first instinct was to brush it off, but something about her teasing made it hard to not play along. “I do not practice glaring,” he said, his voice laced with mock indignation, though the corner of his lips twitched upward.

She leaned forward, narrowing her eyes like she was examining a specimen under a microscope. “Hmm…” she murmured, clearly unconvinced. “I don’t know… feels a little too perfect to be unpracticed. You sure you’re not rehearsing in front of the mirror at night?”

He rolled his eyes, but a laugh escaped him despite himself. “You’re impossible, you know that?” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

She grinned, unbothered by his apparent defeat. “And yet, here you are, sharing soju with me,” she teased, tapping the rim of her cup with a smug expression as if she had just caught him in a trap. “Must be my charm.”

In-ho snorted at the playful arrogance in her voice. He looked at her—her easy smile, the glint in her eyes—and realized that, despite his usual guarded nature, he didn’t mind this. In fact, he kind of enjoyed it. “Well, I guess I couldn’t resist your charm,” he replied, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

“Oh, come on,” she said, feigning offense, “You’re telling me the brooding cop is actually soft under all that tough exterior? That’s a plot twist I wasn’t expecting.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly. “What, you think I’m just some soft guy who lets anyone in?” he asked, the hint of a challenge in his voice.

Her grin widened, a mischievous spark dancing in her eyes. “Maybe,” she said, taking a dramatic pause, “but I think I’ve cracked the code.”

In-ho stared at her for a moment, half-amused, half-caught off guard. There was something about the way she didn’t hold back, how effortlessly she made him feel at ease, that got to him more than he’d like to admit.

“You think you’ve cracked it, huh?” he asked, leaning a little closer, his voice lowered slightly as if testing the waters.

“Maybe,” she said, still grinning, “But you’re not getting off that easy. I’ll need more time to figure you out.”

In-ho chuckled, a genuine sound, free of the usual tension he carried. He looked at her and, for once, didn’t feel the weight of being the brooding guy with a past to hide. She was right about one thing—she was definitely making him feel lighter.

“I think I could get used to this,” he said, raising his cup to hers in a silent toast.

She clinked it with a quick grin. “You better,” she said with a wink. “You’re stuck with me now.”

༉‧₊˚. By the time they finished their third bottle, her cheeks were flushed, and she was laughing at every little thing. Her laughter was infectious, bubbling up at the smallest of jokes or even just the awkward silence between them.  ༉‧₊˚. In-ho, who wasn’t much of a drinker himself, found himself laughing along, not so much at the jokes, but at her genuine enjoyment. ༉‧₊˚. He had never been one to let loose, to be this open with anyone, but her easygoing nature was different. It was so refreshing that it caught him off guard in the best way. ༉‧₊˚. He wasn’t used to this—being around someone so unguarded, someone who could just be, without constantly second-guessing every word or action. And it made him realize how long it had been since he’d truly let go of his own reservations. ༉‧₊˚. At one point, as they were talking about something completely random, she started humming a little tune to herself. ༉‧₊˚. The notes were soft, almost silly as if the melody had just popped into her head. It wasn’t a song, just a tune she made up on the spot, and before he knew it, she started singing it aloud, her voice a little off-key but full of life.

“Do you hear that?” she said, raising an eyebrow with a playful smirk. “It’s a hit in the making. You should totally record it.”

In-ho’s lips twitched, resisting the urge to chuckle, but he let it slip out anyway. Her randomness was infectious. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but something about this moment made everything feel lighter, almost like he was seeing the world from a different angle.

He watched her for a moment, her laughter still echoing in the quiet night, and a small, genuine smile tugged at his lips.

It was rare for him to feel this easy, this unburdened. Normally, there was always something pulling at him—the weight of his responsibilities, the shadows of his past. But with her, everything seemed to fade away.

Her laughter, her carefree spirit, her utter lack of restraint—it was a stark contrast to everything he was used to, and yet, for once, it felt right. It was exactly what he needed.

“So, are we starting a band now?” he teased, leaning back in his chair, his voice light and relaxed.

She looked at him with a wink, clearly pleased with his response. “Well, you’re the tough guy with the brooding stare, so you’re definitely the lead singer,” she replied, pointing at him with a grin.

In-ho shook his head, chuckling to himself. “I’m not sure I’m cut out for singing,” he said, his voice still warm with the aftereffects of their shared drink.

She tilted her head, staring at him for a moment before speaking with a playful glint in her eye. “Oh, no. You’re definitely the lead singer. The whole ‘I don’t care, I’m too cool’ thing. It’s perfect.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m not broody,” he protested, though the amusement in his voice betrayed him.

“You’re definitely broody,” she teased, winking at him.

In-ho gave her a smile, but when his eyes shifted to his watch, he saw it was already past 3 a.m. His face softened slightly, and he frowned as he set his cup down.

“It’s getting late,” he said, his voice quieter now as he stood up, the weight of the hour sinking in.

She groaned, leaning back in their chair dramatically, clearly not ready for the night to end. “Already? You’re no fun, Officer,” she complained, the playfulness still in her voice.

In-ho shook his head, half-amused, half-concerned. “And you’re someone who needs to get some sleep,” he replied firmly, holding out his hand. “Come on. I’ll walk you home.”

She pouted at the suggestion but took his hand anyway, stumbling slightly as they stood up. “Fine, but only because you’re being all responsible and stuff,” she said with a mock pout, though her lips were curled in a smile.

In-ho chuckled, steadying them as she swayed a little. The chemistry between them was undeniable, and for the first time in a long while, he found himself enjoying the moment—taking the time to care, to share something lighthearted, even if it was just for a brief while.

༉‧₊˚. On the walk to their apartment, their playful teasing didn’t stop. She nudged him with her shoulder every chance she got, laughing at her own exaggerated guesses about his “dark and mysterious backstory.” ༉‧₊˚. In-ho found himself relaxing more than he thought possible, their carefree energy infectious, filling the air between them with an ease he hadn’t felt in ages. ༉‧₊˚. For once, he wasn’t thinking about the weight of his past, or his responsibilities, or any of the worries that usually clouded his mind. He was just... enjoying the moment.

“So,” he said after a while, his voice light as they neared her building, “you’ve got my name, but I don’t think I ever got yours.”

She stopped in front of the door and turned to face him, giving him that mischievous grin he was beginning to recognize and love. “It’s [Lastname] [Name],” she said, her voice soft but steady, her eyes sparkling with that playful glint.

“[Name],” he repeated, the unfamiliar sound of it rolling off his tongue as if testing it for the first time. He nodded, as if committing it to memory. “I like it.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, teasing. “Yup. And don’t forget it.”

He chuckled, a low sound that felt foreign but good. “I won’t, don’t worry.”

She stepped closer, her grin widening. “Thanks for tonight, In-ho,” she said, her voice softening just a little. “You’re a good guy. Like, a really good guy.”

The compliment hit him harder than he expected, and for a brief moment, it made him uneasy. Good guy? His mind flickered back to his role as the Frontman—the games, the deaths he orchestrated, and the weight of the people he’d let down. He wasn’t sure he deserved to be called “good.”

His lips twitched into a small smile, but it wasn’t easy. He rubbed the back of his neck, fighting the warmth rising in his chest, the sense of contradiction gnawing at him. “I’m not so sure about that,” he muttered, a modest shrug masking the inner turmoil. His mind battled with the reality of who he was.

With a deep breath, he focused on her again, the playful spark in her eyes grounding him. “But… you’re welcome,” he said softly, the words coming out more genuine than he expected, despite the turmoil that lingered beneath.

Before he could say anything else, she leaned up, quick and confident, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. It was brief, just a fleeting touch of her lips, but it was enough to make his heart skip a beat. The warmth of the kiss lingered on his skin, and for a moment, he was frozen, caught completely off guard by the simple, sweet gesture.

She pulled back, smiling at him with that same playful glint. “Goodnight, Officer In-ho,” she said with a wink, her voice light and teasing, before stepping into her apartment and disappearing behind the door.

༉‧₊˚. In-ho stood there for a moment, his fingers brushing over the spot where her lips had just been as if trying to hold onto the feeling a little longer.  ༉‧₊˚. A rare, genuine smile spread across his face, one that felt unfamiliar but welcome. He let out a quiet breath, feeling something shift within him—a sense of warmth, of connection, that he hadn’t realized he’d been missing. ༉‧₊˚. Turning away, he started walking back towards the direction of his apartment, his steps lighter than they’d been in a long time.  ༉‧₊˚. For once, the weight in his chest felt a little less heavy, and there was a certain peace in the quiet night air. As he walked, he thought, maybe Oh Il-nam wasn’t so bad for forcing me to take a week off after all. ༉‧₊˚. With the memory of her kiss still lingering, he couldn’t help but smile again, the thought of her brightening his steps as he headed back into the night.

prank gone wrong w/ childe

based on a tiktok audio!

HE FUCKING THAT SHIT UPPPPPPP

Begging for a part 2 for Resurface pls I need to be fed a happy ending 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

will def do! after I finish my requests and other fics.

if you want, I can tag you !! do leave your username if u want :>

tysm for the support