#then he got SHOT AT the season after THAT

[wqnsho]

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.

[lady-of-endless]

Front Man/Hwang In-ho (player 001) x player!reader headcanons (season 2)

Author's Note: This season cured my writer's block. I'm sorry but I'm down bad for this red flag. I hope you'll enjoy it! Click here for a masterlist because there's more to come.

- He infiltrated the game either to make sure everything goes accordingly, either for a sick wish to mess with the players because he's empty inside (but not for long), or both.

- Unfortunately for "player 001", his charm and manipulation are obvious to you and you're not that pleased to see him getting close to the team you're in. Gi-hun (player 456) team. What could you do? Manipulate the manipulator.

- A game within a game, a calculated and dangerous play. In-ho senses and accepts this indirect challenge from you. He's interested, he feels excitement once again after such a long time.

- However, that's not his priority. He will push away his aroused interest to keep his duties as the Frontman and keep the game going despite Gi-hun's tries to end it.

- But one day, he noticed your mask falling for a moment, a crack in the role you played with him and that got him hooked again. He wondered what it took to break through that facade of yours and see the real you.

- There's a thrilling dance of fake smiles and fascination between you two that no one else sees. Just two capable, trustworthy, charming players.

- In-ho has a very cold but intense gaze, especially when he's shamelessly admiring you. However, you can't tell if he's admiring you or scheming against you.

- When your glass is full, you come up with a plan to corner him and confront him about his intentions with the team, without alarming the others. The plan was flawless in theory. In-ho sensed that something was up from the moment you asked him to join you under the bed bunks for better safety during the night. He complied out of curiosity, with a smirk on his lips. Every plan that's perfect in theory, it's never perfect in practice. The closeness, the intimacy, the tension, and the pent-up frustration all lead to something else entirely. Your planned interrogation switched to pure instincts and denied feelings.

(If you like this idea, let me know, I'll write a one shot)

- Since that night, something has shifted in your dynamic. During the games, it seems that he's trying to... protect you? It was clear to you during the mingle game when he was dragging you forcefully with him no matter the number the speakers announced. You didn't question it, you just followed him. You didn't have a choice; his grip and determination were too strong. God have mercy on those who try to attack you to get inside the room with him. You already saw his impeccable fighting skills so it doesn't surprise you when you see him in action. However, it's shocking when he gets to even drastic measures for you (like eliminating other players, we've seen it).

- In-ho is guilty of many things and one of them is also jealousy. He's subtle with it though.

- There's something unsaid between you two. He doesn't know if it's attachment or not, thinking that he might not be able to feel that again. Especially for you. But he's wrong, and he sees that clearly when, during a risky game, you almost got eliminated. He was about to lose it; his fingers were digging into your skin when he embraced you to "congratulate you." It was more than that. There was something desperate in the way he held him against you and you could feel that.

- At night, after that incident, he tells you his reason for participating in the game. Even though you can't decide if he tells the truth or not, you can see his expression getting vulnerable and his eyes watery nonetheless.

- Since then, whenever he stares at you, he's thinking of a way to take you away from this mess, next to him. He also thinks of ordering the guards secretly, to make some circumstances in your favor during the next games.

[celestiamour]

Hi, Could you write more about semi x fem reader, maybe the reader helps her not to get murdered? I love semi a lot but there aren't many fanfics about her🥺😭 please

ft. se-mi x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ preventing her untimely demise┊0.6k words

setting: season 2, episode 7 contains: canon-typical violence & murder, sorry nam-gyu fans, it’s one or the other, friends to lovers

➤ author's note: i was so mad when she died, why do the squid game writers hate lesbians

it’s difficult to see anything going on with the bright white fluorescent lights constantly flickering, but the sound of screams piercing through the night was enough to tell you that the “special game” had started and it was dangerous to remain in bed. you watched as one of the women next to you cried out in terror as a man used a broken bottle to stab at her chest,, and you immediately jumped out and hit the floor running before he could turn his sights on you. 

the first people who came to your mind to search for where your allies were to make sure they were alright, particularly min-su and se-mi whom you’ve become close over the past few days and knew would be targets of their previous group after voting to leave. 

you heard her familiar voice yelp in surprise just a little ways from you, the same voice that so often threw compliments at you like they didn’t fluster you so bad you wanted to hide under the blanket and comforted you when you cried about the people who lost their lives earlier that day when everyone else was asleep, sending you into a panic. 

as resilient as se-mi was, she was no match to overpower nam-gyu physically as you watched him corner her against the wall, his bloodlust so powerful you could almost smell it with one of the forks given out during dinnertime in hand. you could see a glint of red shining off the metal, indicating that it was already used to take a life. 

a glass bottle suddenly came in between them, shattering against the concrete floor. you didn’t even bother to look up, just seizing the opportunity to jump the man from behind and trying to steal the silverware from his grip while he was still in shock. while you couldn’t fully take it from him, you did manage to knock it out of his hands. 

you were smaller than him, but you used all of the strength in your body to keep him pinned down once se-mi kicked him in the stomach and picked up the utensil. without hesitation, she began to repeatedly stab him in the neck with it, over and over again, both of you ignoring his pleas and screams knowing that he would have done the same to her without so much as batting an eye. you only got off him when he stopped squirming under your grasp, ignoring the blood that splattered all over your hands, clothing, and face.

it hasn’t hit you yet that you just held a man down for her to murder and you’re sure the guilt will consume you later, but all that matters is that both of you have survived to see another day together. you’ve never been so happy to see those damn guards in their hot pink uniform, even if they were shortly taken down in a matter of minutes to steal their guns for the planned player revolt. both of you 

neither of you were allowed to join due to a lack of experience with firearms and being women, but due to the clear determination in your eyes, they did leave a walkie-talkie to call for backup if they needed it.

once the shots fell quiet and were no longer ringing in your ears, se-mi looked at you with a little smile on her face and reached out to caress your face, “you know, i always thought you were really pretty, but i think you look kinda sexy with the blood everywhere.”

“do you really?”

“of course, i do, but we really should wash up”

[emjayewrites]

the boys trip • jules kounde one shot

SYNOPSIS: Jules gets roped into another one of AK's matchmaking schemes during what was supposed to be a boys' trip to Lapland. Despite his friend's historically terrible taste in setting him up, this time might be different when he meets Y/N. What happens in Lapland should stay in Lapland, but some things may be worth bringing back home. INSPIRED BY: this & this moodboard by my faves!

PAIRINGS: Jules Koundé x fem!black!reader (Y/N)

WARNINGS: cursing, drinking, smut — 18+ only

WORD COUNT: over 10K, so please show some love!!

TAGLIST: @irishmanwhore, @sucredreamer, @judesvirtual, @saturnville, @peyiswriting, @greedyjudge2, @alika-4466, @julescpu, @lettersofgold, @hopefulromantic1, @a-moment-captured, @serpenttines-library, @f1-football-fiend, @purplelewlew, @enretrogue, @yeea-nah @127hydrangeas, @sunfairyy, @pinkcatcus, @muglermami, @bbgkoo, @sinflowersugar @cranberryjulce, @lev-1-1, @deonn-jaelle, @mufasathatniggatho

The private terminal at Paris Charles de Gaulle was quiet except for AK's pacing and animated phone conversation. Jules slouched further in his leather seat, watching his friend – all confident swagger even at 7 AM, his caesar fade fresh and goatee perfectly lined – sweet-talk his girl in English.

"Baby, just—no, I know security's a pain but— Yes, love, I know…"

Wilhelm caught Jules' eye, his light brown fro slightly squished from the beanie he'd just removed, and they shared a knowing look while Stef and Nas bickered over their usual FIFA argument. Typical morning – Nas pushing his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes while insisting PSG was clear, Stef's curly fade catching the morning light as he defended Arsenal with his whole chest.

"Elles arrivent dans dix minutes," (They'll be here in ten minutes) AK announced after hanging up, running a hand over his fade. "La sécurité était supplémentaire, apparemment." (Security was being extra, apparently)

"Depuis quand parlez-vous London roadman?" Nas teased. (Since when do you speak London roadman)

"Depuis qu’il a commencé à simper," Stef added, dodging AK's half-hearted swing. (Since he started simping)

Jules stayed quiet, scrolling through Instagram without really seeing it. This season had been kicking his ass, Barcelona's form worse than he'd seen it, and all he'd wanted was a few days with his boys to decompress. No game analysis, no press, no expectations. Just vibes.

When AK had first floated the idea of bringing Van along, Jules had been firmly against it. He got it – long distance was rough, with her in London and AK running his luxury concierge business in Paris. The few times Jules had met her, she'd seemed cool enough, but this trip was supposed to be about escaping everything, including relationship drama, but AK had been persistent.

"Look, I barely see her these days. This trip is the only time that works with our schedules, and..." He'd paused, that look in his eye that always meant trouble. "She's bringing a friend. Might be good for you, get your mind off this season."

The last time AK played matchmaker still haunted him – that disaster in Mykonos last summer with the Instagram model who spent more time staging photos than having actual conversations. Or the "entrepreneur" before that who turned out to just be selling detox teas on social media. His friend meant well, but…he was garbage at picking girls for him.

It wasn't that Jules was picky – okay, maybe he was. But he had standards. He appreciated a natural beauty, curves that didn't come from a surgeon's table in Turkey. Like what was wrong with stretch marks and cellulite? More importantly, he wanted substance. Someone building something real, not just chasing clout or a footballer's lifestyle. His last few hookups had been a wash-rinse-repeat cycle of the same type: beautiful but boring, more interested in being seen with him than seeing him.

"You're too bougie," AK always said. "Too picky."

"I know what I like," was Jules' standard response.

And what he wanted wasn't another Instagram baddie with a BBL and empty conversations. He wanted—

"Oh shit, they're here."

Jules looked up, ready to be annoyed, and...

Oh. Oh.

Van glided in first in her brown faux fur coat and babushka hat, but her friend made Jules sit up straighter. She moved differently – this quiet grace about her as she followed behind. Her hair was pulled back in a low bun, baby hairs laid so precisely it looked like art, and when she smiled at AK's introduction, the small gap between her front teeth and deep dimples hit something in Jules' chest.

Her style was effortless – the turtleneck was clearly expensive but not flashy, paired with brown ski leggings, boots, puffer, and gold jewelry. Everything about her seemed intentional but not trying too hard, from her perfect posture to the way her pants hugged her ass just right without being obvious about it.

"Alright," AK said, his whole face lighting up as Van kissed his cheek. "Let me introduce everyone properly. This goddess right here is my girl Vanessa—"

"Van," she corrected with a playful eye roll, her West London accent wrapping around the word.

"Van," AK amended, "and this is her best friend Y/N. Ladies, meet the guys – that's Wilhelm with the fro, Stef and Nas are the ones looking stressed about whatever FIFA argument they're having, and this quiet one right here is Jules."

"Hey!! We about to turn up in Lapland!" Van announced while Y/N just offered a small wave, those long lashes framing eyes that seemed to take everything in quietly.

Jules found himself standing, fixing his Jacquemus sweater without thinking about it. Not that he cared what she thought.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a flight attendant appeared, perfectly poised in her uniform. "We're ready for boarding."

"Let the ladies through first," AK said.

Van practically bounced up the stairs to the plane. "Oh my days, this is proper bougie!" Her voice carried back down. "Y/N, look at this!"

And then Jules heard it – Y/N's voice, soft and melodic with a lilting British accent that was somehow a bit posh and warm. "It's beautiful," she said simply, and something about the understated appreciation in her tone made his chest tight.

But watching her settle into a seat near the window, pulling out a book (who brings a book on a trip to Lapland?), Jules had to admit – maybe, just maybe, AK wasn't completely fucking up their vacation.

Even if he'd never tell him that.

"You good?" Wilhelm asked quietly in French, catching Jules staring.

"Juste fatigué," Jules replied, but they both knew it was cap.

"Liar," Wilhelm teased under his breath.

"Ta gueule," (Shut up) Jules muttered, but he couldn't help noticing how different Y/N was from Van, who was already talking about the clubs they had to hit. There was something understated about her, the way she moved, the slight smile when she caught him looking.

Fuck.

This was not how this trip was supposed to go. He was supposed to be decompressing, forgetting about his shit season, not noticing how a stranger's collarbones peeked out from her turtleneck or how she smelled like something expensive but subtle as she passed him in the aisle to use the bathroom.

"T'es dans la merde," (You're in trouble) Wilhelm muttered, and Jules couldn't even argue.

Three hours into their seven-hour flight to Rovaniemi, Jules found himself doing that thing he swore he wouldn't do – stealing glances at Y/N from his single seat across the aisle. He'd settled into that classic position – slouched with legs spread, one hand propped on his chin, thumb absently stroking his goatee – trying to look casual while very much not being casual at all.

Van's shriek of laughter cut through the cabin as AK whispered something in her ear in their back twin seats, followed by sounds Jules really didn't need to hear. But Y/N seemed unbothered, completely absorbed in her book – an actual paper book, not just scrolling on her phone like most girls he knew. He caught the title: "The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo." That book that was all over TikTok, the one his sister wouldn't shut up about. And was that... a kitten bookmark?

Check box one, he thought. She reads actual books.

The flight attendant moved through the cabin, setting up champagne and an elaborate spread of charcuterie and pastries. Y/N got up gracefully, fixing herself a small plate with careful consideration, and returned to her seat. A small smile played on her lips as she read, and Jules found himself wondering what part of the story caused that reaction.

Stop being a creep, he chided himself. But he couldn't help noticing how her turtleneck hugged her curves, how her crossed legs seemed to go on forever. This could get messy – she was his best friend's girl's best friend after all. But then again, Van brought her for a reason...

Stop being a pussy and just talk to her.

Jules did another scan of the cabin. Nas and Stef were knocked out cold, their light snores creating a gentle backdrop. Wilhelm was lost in his Switch game, probably destroying someone online in Mario Kart. And AK and Van were... yeah, definitely preoccupied.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Jules smoothly stood and slid into the empty seat beside Y/N. She looked up from her book, those long lashes framing curious eyes.

"What's up?" He aimed for cool but heard the slight nervousness in his voice.

"Just getting to the good part," she replied, her soft British accent making even those simple words sound melodic.

"Evelyn Hugo, huh?" He nodded toward the book. "Heard that one's good."

"You've read it?"

"Nah, but my sister's obsessed. Wouldn't stop talking about it in the family group chat."

Y/N's smile deepened, those dimples making an appearance. "It's worth the hype. I'm usually pretty varied with my reading though."

"Yeah? What else you into?"

"Bit of everything really. Some mysteries, biographies..." She paused, a mischievous glint in her eye. "The occasional spicy book."

Jules' eyebrows shot up. "Spicy like...?"

"You ever heard of 'Ice Planet Barbarians'?"

He had – another TikTok famous book, one that had people in the comments wilding about blue aliens and their unrealistically large sex organs.

She's a little freak, huh? "That's, uh..." He cleared his throat. "That's quite a range you got there."

Her laugh was soft but genuine. "Life's too short to stick to one genre, don't you think?"

Something about the way she said it, like she applied that philosophy to more than just books, made Jules lean in slightly. "What else you got on your reading list?"

As Y/N started describing a mix of upcoming reads, Jules found himself actually interested – not just pretending to be interested like he usually did when girls talked. The way her eyes lit up when she discussed her favorites, how she spoke with her hands when explaining particularly complex plots.

"So you're telling me you haven't read any Sally Rooney?" Y/N asked, turning slightly in her seat to face him better.

"Is that the Normal People author?"

"Mm, that's the one." She adjusted her bookmark – definitely a kitten, orange and white – before setting the book aside. "The show was good but the books hit different."

Jules shifted too, his long legs taking up more space than strictly necessary. "I'm more of a music person myself."

"Let me guess..." Y/N studied him for a moment, and something about her direct gaze made him want to fidget. "You've got that look about you. Definitely into fashion, probably listen to Steve Lacy? Kendrick Lamar?"

"Damn, am I that obvious?"

Her smile came with those crater-deep dimples again. "Your sweater's Jacquemus and your shoes are those limited Lewis Hamilton x Dior sneakers. You're either into fashion or you've got a really good stylist."

Now it was Jules' turn to be impressed. Most girls he met only knew the obvious brands, the ones you could easily flex on Instagram. "You know your stuff."

"I work in fashion editorial," she said with a small shrug. "Kind of have to."

Another box checked.

"Editorial?" He leaned forward slightly. "Which magazine?"

"I'm at British Vogue." She tucked a stray baby hair back, the movement drawing his attention to her elegant fingers, no overtly long fake nails in sight. "Junior editor assistant, nothing major yet."

"Nothing major, she says," Jules teased. "Just casually working at one of the biggest fashion magazines in the world."

"What about you? Besides the obvious football career, what gets you excited?"

They fell into an easy conversation about music (they shared a love for Frank Ocean), art (she'd just been to the new Basquiat exhibit he'd been meaning to see), and travel. Y/N had actual opinions, thoughtful ones, not just agreeing with whatever he said like he was used to.

"The vintage shopping there is insane," he said, talking about his time in Japan. "Like this one spot in Harajuku, they had original Raf Simons pieces I'd never seen before. And the food..."

"I've always wanted to go," Y/N said, her eyes lighting up. "The fashion archives alone must be incredible. Plus, I heard they have these cafes where—"

"Where you can drink coffee and play with cats?" Jules finished. "Yeah, they're everywhere. Way better than those fake Instagram spots everyone posts about."

"See, that's what I want to experience. The real culture, not just tourist traps." She tucked another stray baby hair back. "What was your favorite part?"

"This tiny ramen spot in a back alley. No pictures allowed, no social media. Just incredible food and this old man who's been making the same recipe for like forty years."

"That sounds perfect."

"You'd love it," Jules said without thinking. Then, realizing how presumptuous that sounded, added, "I mean..."

But Y/N just smiled. "Maybe I would."

Something about her genuine interest, the way she didn't immediately pull out her phone to check Instagram locations, made Jules sit back and really look at her. "You're dope, you know that?"

The slight flush on her cheeks made something in his chest tighten. "Because I want to eat ramen in back alleys?"

"Because you actually care about the experience. Most people I meet just want the picture for the gram, which is cool but still...I thought you'd be like that."

"Because I'm Van's friend?" She raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in her voice.

"Because AK has terrible taste in setting me up."

The words slipped out before he could stop them, and Y/N's eyebrow arched delicately. "Oh? Is that what this is?"

Fuck. Me.

"I didn't mean—" Jules started, but her soft laugh cut him off.

"Relax. Van already told me about AK's matchmaking attempts." She glanced toward the back where AK and Van were finally sleeping. "The Mykonos story was particularly entertaining."

Jules groaned. "She told you about that?"

"Mm. Something about an Instagram model and a very expensive photoshoot gone wrong?"

"In my defense, I didn't know she'd brought a whole production crew."

Y/N's laugh was worth the embarrassment of reliving that memory. "Well, I can assure you I don't have a glam squad hidden in my carry-on."

"No? Not even a ring light for emergency selfies?"

"The only emergency items I packed are snacks and more books."

Jules felt himself smiling – a real smile, not his usual media-ready one. The kind that actually reached his eyes.

Something shifted in the air between them, the casual conversation taking on a different weight. Y/N held his gaze for a moment before looking away, but Jules caught the slight upturn of her lips.

"We should probably try to sleep," she said finally. "Long day still ahead."

"Right. Yeah." But he didn't move.

"Jules?"

"Mm?"

"That means you have to go back to your seat."

"Oh. Right." He stood, perhaps a bit reluctantly. "Thanks for... you know."

"For not being an Instagram model with a production crew?"

His laugh was soft. "Something like that."

As he settled back into his own seat, Jules couldn't help stealing one more glance. Y/N had already reopened her book, but he swore he saw her smile widen slightly.

Definitely in trouble.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we're beginning our descent into Rovaniemi Airport."

Jules blinked awake from his nap, the seven-hour flight having passed quicker than expected. Maybe because of that conversation... He pushed the thought away, stretching in his seat as the plane started its descent through snow-heavy clouds.

The landing was smooth, and Jules watched as Y/N stood to thank both flight attendants by name – Marie and Sophie – even asking about Sophie's baby she'd mentioned during meal service. She did the same with the pilots, genuine appreciation in her voice.

Another box checked.

The whole "be nice to service staff" thing wasn't exactly groundbreaking, but there was something about the way she did it – not performing kindness for an audience, just being genuinely thoughtful – that hit different.

Lapland's winter air slapped different too, the kind of cold that made him grateful for his cashmere beanie as they descended the plane stairs. He wasn't trying to be creepy, walking behind Y/N, but when her foot caught that patch of ice and she started to slip... his hands found her waist automatically.

"You good?"

She steadied herself, this little embarrassed laugh escaping. "Yeah, just... can I get a rewind button? Because that was embarrassing as fuck."

Something about the way she said it, like she was annoyed at herself but trying to play it cool, made him chuckle. "Consider it deleted from the record."

Their luggage situation was borderline ridiculous – his three suitcases for a week's worth of fits, her matching his energy with her own collection of bags.

"Someone came prepared," he couldn't help teasing, watching her oversee the arrangement of her bags on the cart.

Her smile was playful, dimples making another appearance. "Don't judge me. A girl needs options for the Instagram dump."

"Nah, that's actually valid. Fit pics are essential."

"Oh yeah?" She raised an eyebrow. "You bring your whole camera crew or something?"

"Just my Nikon and a drone."

She nudged his shoulder, the contact brief but enough to make him hyper-aware of her presence. "But not a whole production crew?"

Ah, she got jokes... "Listen," he said, trying to keep his face serious. "You can't disrespect the Northern Lights with iPhone quality. That's just wrong."

"Mhmmmm." The way she nodded, all exaggerated understanding, shouldn't have been as cute as it was. "Very professional of you."

"Y/N!" Van's voice cut through whatever was building between them. "Stop flirting and come on, we need to get through customs!"

The customs line crawled by, but Jules found himself not minding, especially when Y/N would catch his eye and they'd share silent amusement at Van's increasing dramatics about the wait.

Their driver was posted up at arrivals with a sign for AK's company – "1 Pourcent Concierge" in sleek lettering because AK never missed a branding opportunity. The private coach was exactly what you'd expect from someone whose whole business was luxury experiences, complete with a mini bar that Van spotted immediately.

"Time to get this party started!" She was already reaching for bottles.

Wilhelm checked his phone, looking tired. "It's 2 in the afternoon."

"We're on vacation!" Van started lining up shots like they were at Tape London instead of just landing in the Arctic Circle. "Stop being a party pooper!"

Jules watched Y/N slip to the back of the bus, pulling out that same book from earlier. He must have been staring because Wilhelm's voice cut into his thoughts.

"Je ne sais pas pourquoi tu fais semblant de ne pas vouloir la rejoindre," Wilhelm said low enough that only Jules could hear. (I don't know why you're pretending you don't want to go join her)

Stef, never one to miss an opportunity to clown him, snorted. "Tu sais que Jules est timide." (You know Jules is shy.)

Jules flipped him off, but Stef just grinned wider.

"I'm chilling," Jules said, but even he could hear how unconvincing it sounded.

"Bullshit," Wilhelm and Stef chorused.

"I don't want to do too much," Jules tried to explain. "Nous venons de parler dans l’avion. Si j’y retourne maintenant..." (We just talked on the plane. If I go back there now)

"Quoi, elle pensera que tu es intéressé?" Stef's eye roll was Olympic-level. "Assez sûr que le navire a navigué, mon frère." (What, she'll think you're interested…Pretty sure that ship has sailed)

"Merde, si tu ne veux pas lui parler..." Nas dramatically ran his fingers through his hair, preening. "I will."

Before Jules could say anything, Nas was heading toward the back of the bus. At that exact moment, Van cranked up some Drake song and started twerking.

Jules pulled out his noise-canceling AirPods with what might have been the biggest eye roll of his life. He tried to focus on Frank Ocean instead of the way Y/N's laugh carried from the back of the bus – probably at something Nas said, which shouldn't have annoyed him but did.

He must have dozed off because the next thing he knew, they were pulling up to their home for the week. The cabin was crazy in the best way – all floor-to-ceiling windows and modern wooden architecture that somehow managed to look both cozy and expensive as hell. The deck wrapped around the whole structure, perfect for Northern Lights viewing, not that he was already thinking about how that could play out.

"Ladies first," he said as they entered, immediately regretting it when Van's excited shriek pierced his eardrums.

"Come on, Y/N!" Van grabbed her friend's hand. "Let's check out the rooms before these boys mess them up!"

Y/N shot Jules an apologetic look as she was dragged upstairs, and he had to fight back a smile. Van's "Oh my god, this one has a FIREPLACE!" echoed down the stairs, followed by Y/N's softer laugh that was already becoming way too familiar.

"T'es foutu," Wilhelm said, clapping Jules on the shoulder as he passed. (You're screwed.)

_______________________________________________

The den of their cabin was peak luxury winter vibes – all exposed wooden beams showing off the snowy landscape, but Jules was barely registering any of it. They'd been killing time until dinner, everyone doing their own thing. Wilhelm was in his gaming zone, Nas and Stef were arguing about upcoming Premier League matches, and AK was texting someone about work because he never really stopped working.

And Y/N? She was upstairs napping, which shouldn't have annoyed him but kind of did. Not that he needed her around, but her presence would've been better than Van's constant complaints about her nails not being done right or whatever else she was going on about before she got ready for dinner.

Jules had nothing against Van. She made AK happy, even if sometimes he wondered how his boy dealt with… all that. But not his woman, not his problem.

The sound of heels on wooden stairs made everyone look up. Van strutted – literally strutted – down in what had to be the tiniest leather dress Jules had ever seen.

"Babe, it's negative twenty-three degrees," AK said, though his eyes said he wasn't exactly mad about the outfit.

Van gave him a look. "I know, that's why I got the fur coat."

"What fur coat—" Jules began, but the words died in his throat because that's when Y/N appeared.

Holy fuck.

She'd let her hair down from that bun, now styled in a middle part with curls. Her own outfit was giving winter goddess – some maroon designer dress he couldn't even focus on because his brain was short-circuiting, and yeah, she was carrying two fur coats.

"Thank god!" Stef broke the moment. "I'm starving!"

The bus ride to the igloo restaurant should've been awkward, but Jules found himself sliding into the seat next to Y/N before he could overthink it.

"Good nap?" he asked, aiming for casual.

"Mm, needed it." Her smile was soft, sleep-warm. "These time zones are killing me."

"Wait till tomorrow when we go snowmobiling. Wilhelm's already talking about racing."

"Oh yeah?" She turned slightly toward him. "You any good on a snowmobile?"

"Better than Nas. Man crashed three times last time we went."

"I heard that," Nas called from behind them. "And it was twice, respect the facts."

The igloo was something else – set in the middle of a forest clearing, stars scattered above them like diamonds. No Northern Lights yet, but the sky was doing its own kind of magic.

Their chef appeared – this older Finnish man with kind eyes – and started describing the courses. "Tonight we're working with what nature provides. Our first course is foraged mushrooms with…"

"For the main," he continued later, "we have local reindeer—"

"Not Rudolph!" Van's gasp was theatrical.

Jules caught Y/N biting back a smile as the chef patiently offered, "We also have freshly caught Arctic char—"

Van opened her mouth again but AK's "Babe, chill" shut it for her.

The waiters moved around them with practiced grace, pouring wine that Y/N examined with actual knowledge – doing that little swirl thing, checking the color against the candlelight.

Jules found himself watching her, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, until she caught him staring.

"I see you, wine connoisseur," he said, enjoying the slight flush on her cheeks.

"You know your wines?"

"Got a few favorites. This Bordeaux that'll change your life, and this Spanish one in my cellar that you should try out." He let the invitation hang there.

Y/N almost choked on her sip. "Are we flirting?"

Jules just shrugged, taking a deliberate sip of his own wine, but he couldn't quite hide his smile.

"So tomorrow," Wilhelm was saying, "we got the snowmobiles booked for eleven—"

"After breakfast at our villa," Stef added.

"Then ice fishing in the evening," Nas continued. "Unless you guys are scared of the cold."

"Please," Van scoffed. "I'm from London, we invented cold."

"That's… not how weather works, babes," Y/N said quietly, just for Jules to hear, and his laugh came out before he could stop it.

The first course arrived – something beautiful with mushrooms and herbs that looked like art. Jules watched Y/N take her first bite, the way her eyes closed slightly in appreciation.

The wine was taking its effect – or maybe it was just her. Jules found himself getting bolder with each course, his hand occasionally brushing Y/N's shoulder when he leaned in to talk, letting his touches linger a bit longer than strictly necessary. The igloo's candlelight did something magical to her skin, and he kept catching himself staring.

"You're staring again," she murmured during the fourth course, some elaborate fish dish he wasn't even tasting anymore.

"Can't help it." The wine made him honest. "You're nice to look at."

Her laugh was soft, private. "The wine's making you brave."

Van's loud giggle cut through their moment – she was properly drunk now, hanging off AK's arm and talking about something he didn’t care for. Y/N caught Jules' eye and they shared a silent laugh.

Their driver met them outside the igloo after they finished their meal, warning them about an incoming snowstorm. "Nothing serious, but better to be inside tonight."

Once they got back to the villa, Van took this as her cue, practically dragging AK upstairs the moment they got inside. "Help me with this dress, baby!"

"Sauna?" Wilhelm suggested to the guys.

Stef and Nas were already heading that way, but Jules' attention was caught by Y/N slipping off her heels, heading toward the stairs.

"Not tonight," he said, not even trying to be subtle anymore.

"Get it, bro," Wilhelm teased.

Jules shot him a look but was already following Y/N up the stairs.

She sensed him behind her, turning with this little smile. "You stalking me?"

"Psssh, what? No." He laughed nervously, suddenly aware he might be coming on too strong. Wine drunk Jules was always a menace. He needed to chill.

But then she hit him with this smile that was pure trouble. "Wanna hang in the jacuzzi?"

Fuck yes.

"Bet."

He practically ran to his room, yanking off his sweater and digging through his suitcase for his trunks. A quick shower, his robe, those Ugg slippers he'd never admit to loving, and he was back downstairs starting up the jacuzzi.

Wine. Need wine.

He grabbed a fresh bottle and glasses, setting them up on the ledge just as Y/N appeared at the doorway. And – oh.

Her robe slipped off to reveal this black bikini that was definitely designed to kill men on sight. The way she eased into the hot water, sighing at the temperature, had his hormones going insane.

"This is perfect," she said, tilting her head back.

Jules slipped in across from her, trying to keep his eyes respectful even though that bikini was making it difficult. The wine made it easy to talk, to laugh, to gradually move closer until their legs were almost touching under the water.

"You're different," he found himself saying.

"Different how?"

"Just… real. Not trying to be anything else."

Her eyes met his in the dim light. "Maybe you're just used to people playing games."

"Maybe." He was definitely closer now, close enough to see water droplets on her eyelashes. "Or maybe you're just special."

The moment stretched between them, heavy with possibility. Then Y/N's hand found his under the water, and that was all the invitation he needed.

The first kiss was soft, testing. But then her fingers slid into his dreads, and he was gone. Her lips soft but demanding against his, and he pulled her closer as the kiss deepened.

They broke apart for air, but he couldn't stop, pressing kisses along her jaw, down her neck. Her quiet gasp when he found a sensitive spot had him tightening his grip on her waist.

"Jules," she breathed, and his name had never sounded better.

He captured her lips again, slower this time but no less intense. Everything else faded – the sound of the jacuzzi, even the wine forgotten on the ledge. There was just this, just her, just the way she fit perfectly against him.

When they finally pulled apart, staying close enough to share breath, Y/N laughed softly. "Definitely better than the sauna, huh?"

Jules grinned, stealing another quick kiss. "Definitely worth it."

"High praise."

"You have no idea."

Who would've thought the quiet girl who reads would be the one leaving everyone in her snow dust?

Jules watched Y/N zip ahead on her snowmobile, her all-white ski fit with that polka dot puffer making her look like some winter fashion editorial come to life. But it was the way she handled the machine – confident, fearless – that had him thinking about last night. About how those same hands that gripped the handlebars had been in his dreads, about how that mouth, which was now hidden behind the black helmet, had felt against his…

"Keep up!" she called back, and yeah, he was definitely in deep trouble.

They stopped at this clearing that looked like something out of a Christmas card – untouched snow stretching for miles, mountains in the background. While AK set up the drone for aerial shots, Van immediately started on what she claimed would be "the baddest snowman in Lapland."

Jules found himself drifting toward Y/N like she had her own gravitational pull. She was adjusting her helmet, cheeks flushed from the cold and the speed.

"Didn't expect you to be such a speed demon," he said, reaching out to fix a strand of hair that had escaped her helmet.

"There's a lot you don't know about me yet." That smile again, the one that made his stomach flip.

"Yet?" He stepped closer. "That mean I get to find out more?"

"Maybe." She looked up at him through those lashes. "If you play your cards right."

The others were occupied – Van directing AK on proper snowman architecture, Nas trying to get Wilhelm to race him again, Stef actually getting decent drone footage – when Jules decided to shoot his shot.

"Skip ice fishing with me?"

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "And do what instead?"

"Thought we could chill at the villa instead? Unless you're really excited about sitting on ice for hours…"

"Trying to get me alone?"

His laugh was low. "Is it working?"

Later, the group visited the small village of Levi, and Van pulled Y/N into some boutique, leaving Jules to deal with his boys' inevitable commentary. They found a coffee shop, and Jules knew from AK's face this conversation was coming.

"So," AK said, that smug look taking over his features. "Nous allons en parler?"

"Parler de quoi?" (Talk about what?)

"À propos de la façon dont je suis le meilleur ailier de tous les temps? À propos de la façon dont mes compétences en matière de jumelage sont d’élite?" (About how I'm the best wingman ever? About how my matchmaking skills are elite?)

Stef rolled his eyes. "L’élite? Après cette catastrophe de Mykonos?" (Elite? After that Mykonos disaster?)

"Ou cette fille à Ibiza," Wilhelm added.

"Ou l’entrepreneur en thé détox," Nas chimed in.

"Vos compétences de jumelage sont généralement nulles," Jules corrected, though he couldn't help smiling. "C’est clairement une consade." (Your matchmaking skills are usually trash. This is clearly a fluke)

"Et qu'en est-il quand tu l'as embrassée dans le jacuzzi?" (And what about when you kissed her in the jacuzzi?)

Jules nearly choked in his coffee. "Comment as-tu fait—" (You guys saw that?)

"S’il-vous-plaît," Wilhelm cut in. "Toute la cabine a des fenêtres, génie." (The whole cabin has windows, genius)

"Et Van t’a vu en route pour piller le réfrigérateur," AK added. (And Van saw you on her way to raid the fridge)

"Et Nas espionnait depuis le sauna," Stef said. (And Nas spying from the sauna)

"Surveillance!" Nas corrected. "Je menait à la surveillance." (I was surveilling)

"Vous êtes trop les gars," Jules muttered, but he was fighting a smile.(You guys are too much)

"Admettez-le," AK pressed. "J’ai bien fait cette fois-ci." (Admit it, I did well this time)

"Je n’admets rien." (Im not admitting anything)

"Ton visage admet tout," Wilhelm said. "Tu brilles comme un adolescent avec son premier béguin." (Your face admits everything. You shining like a teenager with their first crush)

Before Jules could defend himself, the girls returned loaded with bags, and damn if Y/N didn't look good with snowflakes in her hair.

_______________________________________________

Their guide showed up for the ice fishing expedition, and Van's parting shot to Y/N was pure Van: "Have fun getting your back blown out!"

"She's something else," Jules muttered as the others left.

"That's one way to put it." Y/N was already heading toward the kitchen. "So, what's the plan?"

The plan turned into Jules showing off his cooking skills – nothing fancy, just some pasta aglio e olio and garlic bread, but the way Y/N watched him cook made him feel like a master chef.

"Where'd you learn to cook?" she asked, perched on the counter while he worked.

"My mum. Said no son of hers was going to survive on takeaway." He handed her a taste of the sauce. "Good?"

Her eyes closed slightly as she tasted it. "Mm, perfect."

They ended up in the den, fire crackling, talking about everything and nothing. About that club Van was insisting they hit for New Year's ("It's Lapland, how lit can it be?"), about Y/N's job at Vogue ("The Devil Wears Prada lied, it's actually worse"), about Jules' family in France and Benin.

"You're really not that bad," Y/N said suddenly.

"Where’s this coming from?"

"From what I expected. From what Van said."

"Van talks about me?"

Y/N's laugh was soft. "She tried to warn me you were shy. Said you'd probably just brood in corners looking pretty."

"And?" He shifted closer.

"And…" Her eyes dropped to his lips. "You're definitely pretty."

This kiss was different from last night – slower, more deliberate. Like they had all the time in the world to explore this thing between them. His hand found that spot on her neck that made her sigh, and her fingers was back in his dreads.

Yeah, maybe AK's matchmaking skills weren't completely trash after all.

Jules couldn't stop kissing Y/N if he tried, each kiss deeper than the last, more urgent. His hand found its way into her hair, curls falling loose from her updo.

Everything had shifted, like the whole universe was conspiring to make this moment happen. Y/N pulled back just enough to whisper against his lips, "Do you want to come up?"

"Yeah." He tried to play it cool, but his mind was going absolutely crazy. HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT. Here he was, Jules Koundé, known for being calm and composed in front of 90,000 people at Camp Nou, completely losing it over six words from this girl.

Following Y/N upstairs felt like torture in the best way. She moved with this effortless grace that had him mesmerized, throwing these looks over her shoulder that was sin – half shy, half something else that made his stomach flip.

When her door finally clicked shut behind them, the air felt electric with possibility. Jules stood still, his dark eyes tracing the curve of Y/N's silhouette as she leaned back against the door. She reached up to pull the last pin from her updo, letting her curls tumble free. Jules swore he forgot how to breathe.

"You look nervous," Y/N said softly, her voice light, teasing, as she stepped closer, her bare feet barely making a sound against the floor.

"Do I?" Jules asked, his voice rougher than he intended. He cleared his throat, but the way her hands brushed against his chest when she closed the space between them made it impossible to care.

"A little," she said, tipping her head back to meet his gaze. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his sweater, pulling him closer. "I like it, though. Makes me feel powerful."

Jules huffed out a laugh, his hands finding her waist and pulling her flush against him. "You're enjoying this way too much."

"Maybe." She tilted her head, her lips brushing against his.

That was all it took for him to close the distance, his mouth slanting over hers in a kiss that was anything but gentle. Y/N sighed into it, her arms winding around his neck as his hands explored the curve of her back, her hips, the warmth of her skin beneath the material of her clothing.

He backed her toward the bed, his fingers trailing down to the hem of her thermal top, pushing it up to reveal the soft skin of her stomach. When the back of her knees hit the mattress, Y/N pulled him down with her, their laughter mingling with their heavy breathing.

"You're in such a hurry," she teased when they broke apart for air.

"Can you blame me?" Jules smirked, his hands sliding over her hips, fingers hooking into the band of her leggings.

She opened her mouth to respond, but he silenced her with another kiss, deep and deliberate, his tongue brushing against hers. His hands worked her leggings down, the fabric clinging stubbornly until he finally peeled them away, leaving her in just a simple pair of black underwear and the thermal top pushed up to her ribs.

"You’re stunning," Jules murmured, his voice low, almost reverent, as his gaze roamed over her.

Y/N smiled, reaching for him. "Your turn."

Jules obliged, pulling off his sweater in one swift motion, the muscles in his chest and arms catching the light in a way that made her breath catch. He leaned back down, his lips finding the sensitive spot just below her ear, earning a soft gasp as her hands roamed his back.

The thermal bunched higher as his kisses trailed down her neck and across her collarbone, his fingers skimming along the edge of her panties. Y/N arched into him, her nails grazing his skin lightly, drawing a low groan from deep in his chest.

When she reached for the button of his pants, Jules caught her wrist, his eyes dark and hooded. "Slow down," he murmured, his voice a husky whisper. "We’ve got all night."

Y/N grinned up at him, her cheeks flushed, her breathing unsteady. "Then you’d better make it worth it."

Jules took his time, his hands tracing over Y/N's curves with a slowness that had her squirming beneath him. His fingers slid her panties down her legs, his dark eyes drinking in every inch of her as more of her was revealed.

Her arousal glistened between her thighs and Jules felt his stomach tighten at the sight.

"Damn," he muttered under his breath. He pulled back just enough to sit up, his dreads falling forward, framing his face as he looked at her.

His gaze took in the soft rise and fall of her chest, her thermal pushed up to just beneath her breasts. "This has to go," he said, his voice teasing as his fingers tugged at the hem of the fabric. She lifted her arms, letting him pull it over her head, and then he reached behind her to unclasp her bra. The garment fell away, baring her to him entirely.

Jules let out a slow breath. Her breasts were full, her nipples pebbled, and he couldn't resist leaning down to press a kiss to the swell of one, his lips brushing her skin softly before moving lower.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his lips dragging a path across her stomach. His eyes dipped back down, lingering between her thighs. "And this—" He ran a finger along the slickness there, grinning when she shivered. "So pretty. I need to have a taste."

Y/N flushed, her breath hitching as she propped herself up on her elbows to meet his gaze. "I’ve never met a guy who actually liked giving head," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, though there was a teasing lilt in it.

Jules raised an eyebrow, his grin widening into something almost wicked. "You've been messing around with the wrong niggas, cherie," he said, shaking his head as if it were an absolute tragedy. He settled himself between her thighs, his hands gently coaxing them wider. "Don't worry. We're gonna change that."

His words sent a shiver through her, her anticipation building as his lips ghosted over the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. "Jules," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

"Relax," he said, glancing up at her, his eyes filled with heat and something softer beneath it. "I've got you."

Not to brag because, honestly, it wasn't his style, but this was his thing. Eating pussy was state-of-the-art to him, an art form he'd mastered, a skill that had left more than a few women crashing out over it. He took pride in it, sure, but it wasn't just about being good at it. He enjoyed it. The taste, the sounds, the way a woman’s body responded when he knew exactly what to do — it was intoxicating.

And Y/N? She was a masterpiece. The way her body trembled, her soft gasps, and the way she shifted her hips as if seeking him out — she was an active participant, not someone who held back. It made every second feel electric, like a performance where they were both in perfect sync.

Another box checked. She was fucking perfect.

That thought hovered in his mind for a beat too long, a flash of something deeper creeping in, and he shoved it away. This wasn’t about feelings. Not right now. Right now, he had a job to do. So he got to work.

He pressed an open-mouthed kiss just above her center, letting his breath ghost over her. His tongue followed, a slow swipe that had her hips jerking upward. "Relax, cherie," he murmured, his voice low, smooth, and tinged with amusement.

She whimpered softly, her thighs quivering against his hands as he pushed them farther apart. His tongue explored her folds with purpose, slow and teasing at first, mapping every inch of her like he had all the time in the world, but when her moans grew louder, more urgent, he picked up the pace, alternating between long, languid strokes and focused flicks of his tongue against her clit.

"Jules," she gasped, her hands diving into his dreads, holding on for dear life as he worked her over.

He hummed against her, the vibration sending a jolt through her body. Her hips bucked, and he grinned, tightening his grip on her thighs to hold her still. "You're so fucking responsive," he said, his voice muffled as he dove back in.

She moaned again, her body writhing against him, and Jules felt a rush of pride — and hunger. He wasn’t stopping until she was completely undone, every thought wiped clean except for him and what he was doing to her.

Her breathing hitched, turning into desperate little gasps, her thighs trembling around his head. "That’s it," he murmured, his lips brushing against her. "Let go for me."

And when she did — her back arching, a cry spilling from her lips, her body shaking with the force of it — Jules couldn’t help but smile. He’d always enjoyed this part, watching the aftermath, the way a woman's body melted into the mattress, chest heaving and cheeks flushed.

"See?" he said, his voice warm and teasing as he kissed his way back up her body. "Told you we were gonna change that." Jules brushed a kiss against Y/N’s lips, still tasting her arousal on his tongue, before pulling back. His voice was soft but charged as he asked, "Got a condom?"

Y/N nodded, her breath still uneven. "In my tote bag. Corner of the room."

He gave her another quick kiss, playful and lingering, before sliding off the bed. She watched him stride over to the tote, his movements unhurried, almost teasing, as if he knew exactly what kind of show he was putting on.

When he crouched down and opened the bag, his smirk widened. "What do we have here?" he mused, holding up a sleek vibrator with a raised brow.

"Oh, my God," Y/N groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Put that back, Jules."

He chuckled, the sound low and rich, and dropped the vibrator back into the bag. "No judgment. Just saying we might have to use this some other time."

She peeked out from between her fingers. "You’re ridiculous."

"Mm, you like it," he shot back, pulling out the pack of Trojans. He glanced over his shoulder, his smirk turning downright sinful. "Found what I was looking for."

He walked back toward her, the condom packet in one hand and her gaze traveled down, taking in the way he casually shucked off his pants, then his boxer briefs, until he stood completely bare in front of her, his arousal standing proud and unashamed.

Y/N's eyes widened slightly and she had that usual smile on her face.

He tore open the packet with his teeth, his eyes never leaving hers as he sheathed himself. The deliberate way he rolled the condom on, his movements smooth and precise, sent a fresh wave of heat through her.

Jules caught the way her thighs shifted on the bed, the way her teeth caught her bottom lip, and his grin softened into something deeper, more intimate. "You good, cherie?" he asked, his voice warm and genuine as he climbed back onto the bed.

Y/N nodded, her fingers reaching out to touch him, to pull him closer. "I’m good," she murmured.

Y/N was bringing out something else entirely in him. Something raw. Something freaky. And honestly? It was only right. If she was going to let her inner freak shine, Jules had no problem meeting her there. He had a feeling, though—there was something about the way she smiled, all soft and sweet, but with that glint in her eyes that promised trouble.

He stayed between her legs, his gaze dragging over her like she was a masterpiece he couldn’t stop studying, like he wasn’t in any rush. Jules had patience, especially when the reward was something like this.

"You’re bad, you know that?" he said, his voice low and teasing as his hands slid up her thighs.

Y/N smirked, her eyes half-lidded. "And you’re just figuring this out?"

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "Nah, I’ve been clocking it. Just didn’t realize how bad."

His hands gripped her thighs a little firmer, pulling her closer so he could line himself up. The slick heat of her against him was enough to make his head tip back for a second, eyes closing as he gathered himself. When he looked at her again, she was watching him with that little smile, her legs shifting to hook around his waist.

Yeah, she’s definitely a freak.

He liked that. A lot.

"Say the word, cherie," Jules murmured, his voice softer now, the teasing edge melting into something deeper.

Y/N didn’t hesitate, her hands sliding up his arms, her nails grazing his skin. "Do it."

That was all he needed. Slowly, he pushed into her, taking his time, letting her feel every inch. The way her body tensed, then melted beneath him, had his heart pounding in his chest.

"Shit, Y/N," he muttered, pausing once he was fully inside her, giving her a moment to adjust. "You’re... God, you’re perfect."

She exhaled shakily, her hands gripping his shoulders as she shifted beneath him. "You can move," she said, her voice breathy but certain.

Jules smiled, something almost wicked flashing in his eyes as he pulled back, then thrust forward again, setting a slow, deliberate rhythm.

It wasn’t long before her moans filled the room, soft and then louder, her hands roaming over his back, her nails digging into his skin in a way that had him groaning. "Damn," he said, his tone full of admiration. "You like that, huh?"

She nodded, biting her lip to stifle another moan, but Jules wasn’t having that. "Don’t hold back," he said, his voice firm but still warm. "I want to hear you."

He picked up the pace, his hips snapping against hers in a way that had the bed creaking under them. Y/N met him thrust for thrust, her body arching, her legs pulling him closer, deeper.

"Jules," she gasped, her voice trembling but filled with so much need it sent a shiver down his spine.

"Yeah, cherie?" he said, leaning down to kiss her, his lips brushing against hers as he spoke.

"You’re gonna ruin me," she whispered, her voice full of awe and teasing all at once.

Jules chuckled, his forehead pressing against hers as his thrusts grew deeper, more intense. "Good," he said, his voice dropping to a growl. "Let me show you how it’s supposed to be."

And oh, he did.

The intimacy of missionary was something he didn’t take lightly—he liked being able to look her in the eyes, to see the way her lips parted and her head tilted back as he rocked into her.

Her breath hitched with each thrust, her nails raking lightly down his back, leaving faint trails that hurt in the best way. Jules dropped his head, kissing along her jaw, her neck, then catching her lips in a kiss so heated it felt like it could burn the room down.

But as much as he loved this—her chest pressed against his, her thighs gripping his sides—his thoughts kept drifting. He couldn’t ignore the temptation of something he’d been eyeing for far too long.

Since they’d left Paris, Jules had been trying not to be a complete dog about it, but damn. Y/N’s ass was something else. Every time she walked ahead of him, he found his gaze following the sway of her hips, the way those leggings hugged her perfectly.

And now? Thank God.

"Turn over for me," Jules murmured.

Y/N blinked up at him, dazed but smiling, and she nodded, biting her lip as she shifted beneath him. Jules helped her, his hands guiding her onto her stomach, then pulling her hips up until she was on all fours.

And there it was.

His breath caught for a moment, his hands gripping her waist as he took in the view. "Damn, cherie," he whispered, his voice thick with appreciation. "This fucking ass."

She laughed, glancing back over her shoulder, her cheeks flushed. "You like it?"

"Yeah," Jules said, smirking as his hands slid over her hips, his thumbs pressing into the dimples of her lower back. "And now I get to see it properly."

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the small of her back, then one to each cheek, his goatee grazing her skin, making her shiver. He took his time, his hands roaming, gripping, appreciating every inch of her.

When he finally lined himself up and thrust back into her, the angle hit different—for both of them. Y/N gasped, her fingers gripping the sheets, her back arching as he set a steady rhythm, his hands on her hips keeping her steady.

"Fuck," Jules muttered, his voice rough, his movements deliberate but powerful. He watched the way her body moved with him, the way her ass bounced with each thrust. It was hypnotizing.

"You good?" Y/N asked, her voice breathless, teasing.

Jules chuckled, leaning forward just enough to press a kiss to her shoulder, his chest brushing against her back. "Better than good," he said, his voice low in her ear. "You feel like heaven, cherie."

Her laugh turned into a moan as he adjusted his angle, hitting deeper, harder. Jules was relentless but attentive, listening to every sound she made, every shift in her body, making sure she felt as much pleasure as he did.

And as much as Jules was enjoying the view—and he really was—it was the sounds she made, the way she responded to him, that had him losing his mind. Every moan, every gasp, every whispered "Jules" was fuel, driving him to keep going, to give her more.

"Perfect," he groaned, his voice almost reverent as he tightened his grip on her hips, thrusting harder. "You’re fucking perfect."

"Ooh fuck, Jules....yes."

He could feel himself getting closer and closer to that precipice with each thrust. She felt so good, better than he could imagine, and when her moans began to turn into screams...yeah...he prayed that no one heard them.

They finally came, her orgasming first and then him immediately after. Both of them still catching their breath, hearts beating a little faster than normal. Jules looked down at Y/N as his sweaty body slumped over hers.

"You're something else, Y/N," Jules said, his voice low but filled with admiration as he moved away to dispose of the condom.

She chuckled softly, rolling onto her side and facing him. "I could say the same about you."

The moment felt calm, peaceful almost, and for once, there was no rush. Jules stroked her hair gently as he lay next to her, the space between them filled with a comfortable silence.

Y/N reached up, brushing her lips softly against his, lingering for a moment before pulling back. "So... what happens now?" she asked, her eyes playful but still searching for some sort of direction.

"I guess we just chill then maybe another round," he replied, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Jules woke up to sunlight streaming through Y/N's bedroom windows, the snow outside making everything look bright white and clean. Inside though? Inside was all warmth – her room somehow perfectly heated (unlike his ice box down the hall), and Y/N's bare skin pressed against his under her ridiculously soft sheets.

He couldn't help smirking a little, remembering last night. Everything had gone exactly as he'd hoped when he followed her upstairs, that confidence he usually saved for the pitch coming in clutch.

Now here he was, watching her sleep and feeling pretty good about himself. She looked different like this – all soft edges and messy curls, evidence of their night together in her slightly smudged makeup and the marks he'd left on her neck.

"Stop staring," she mumbled, eyes still closed.

"Not staring." He was definitely staring. "Just thinking."

"About?"

"About how you stole all the covers in the middle of the night."

She cracked one eye open. "Lies and slander. I'm a perfect sleeping companion."

"You literally kicked me."

"You were hogging the bed!"

"It's a king size bed!"

Her laugh was still morning-rough, and something about it made his stomach do that flip thing again. She stretched, the movement doing interesting things to the sheet's positioning, and – he was staring again.

"Like what you see?"

"You fishing for compliments this early?"

"Maybe." She propped herself up on one elbow, looking at him with those eyes that got him into this situation in the first place. "Is it working?"

Instead of answering, he pulled her down for a kiss. She tasted so good and when she made that little sound in the back of her throat...

A loud bang on the door made them jump apart.

"Y/N!" Van's voice carried through the wood. "Stop riding Jules and come get breakfast! We got husky sledding in an hour!"

Y/N groaned, burying her face in Jules' chest. "I'm going to murder her."

"I'll help hide the body."

"My hero."

They lay there for another moment, his hand playing with her hair, neither wanting to break the bubble they'd created. Outside, he could hear the others moving around – Van's loud laugh, AK telling someone to hurry up, the clatter of plates downstairs.

"We should probably..."

"Yeah."

But neither moved.

"Or we could just stay here," Y/N suggested, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest that were very distracting.

"Tempting." He caught her hand before it could wander lower. "But if we don't show up, Van will absolutely break down that door."

"Ugh, fine." She sat up, the sheet falling away, and – oh.

"You're making it really hard to be responsible right now."

Her smile was pure trouble. "I can see just how hard it is."

"You're terrible."

"You like it."

And yeah, maybe he did. Maybe he liked a lot of things about this girl who read actual books and drove snowmobiles like a pro and kissed like she meant it. Maybe he was in trouble in the best possible way.

But first: breakfast. And then huskies. And then... well, they had time to figure out the rest.

Jules pulled on his clothes from last night, unable to keep the satisfied smile off his face as Y/N disappeared into her en suite. The sound of her shower starting up had him thinking dangerous thoughts, but nah – they needed to actually make it to breakfast.

His own room felt weirdly cold and unfamiliar after the warmth of Y/N's bed. Quick shower, fresh clothes, trying and failing not to think about last night while he got ready. By the time he made it downstairs, Y/N was already at the breakfast table looking way too good in her red puffer, black ski pants hugging curves he now knew intimately. Those Moon Boots shouldn't have been cute but somehow were.

Their villa's chef had outdone himself – full spread of everything from eggs benedict to fresh pastries, fruit platters that looked like art. Y/N was already nursing a coffee, and the way she smiled at him over the rim of her cup had him remembering exactly how she'd smiled last night when—

"Earth to Jules," Stef called out, snapping him back to reality. "You want the last croissant or can I have it?"

Y/N slid the pastry toward Jules with a wink that definitely meant trouble. "Better fuel up. Long day ahead."

Van’s eyebrows raised in pique interest as she drank her mimosa.

The bus ride to the husky farm should've been chill, but Van immediately dragged Y/N to sit with her, that look in her eye that meant interrogation was coming. Jules caught Y/N's slightly panicked look and had to laugh – she was about to get the full Van experience.

"So," he heard Van start as he settled in his own seat. "Don't leave out any details..."

The husky farm was everything the brochures promised – dozens of excited dogs practically bouncing in their harnesses, their breath visible in the cold morning air. But Jules was only half listening to Erik, their guide, explain the basics of sledding. He kept getting distracted by Y/N's animated conversation with Van a few feet away.

"—and then he did WHAT?" Van's voice carried, way too loud.

Y/N's eyes met his across the snow, this little smile playing at her lips that had him remembering exactly what he'd done.

"Focus, lover boy," Wilhelm muttered, elbowing him. "Unless you want to crash into a tree."

Erik paired them up – two per sled – and obviously Jules ended up with Y/N. Obviously Van made some comment about "riding" that had AK trying not to laugh while pretending to scold her.

"You good?" Jules asked as Y/N settled into the front of their sled, his hands on her hips maybe lingering longer than necessary as he helped her in.

"Better than good." She looked back at him with that smile that was becoming dangerous for his mental health. "Though a bit sore."

Before he could respond to that loaded comment, the dogs took off, their excited barking filling the crisp air as they raced through the snow.

The dogs pulled them through this winter wonderland that didn't seem real – all pristine snow and frosted trees, sunlight making everything sparkle. But Jules was more focused on how Y/N kept leaning back against him, the way she fit perfectly between his arms as he held the reins.

"This is incredible!" she called back, turning her head just enough that he could see her profile, cheeks flushed from the cold and excitement.

"The dogs or my steering skills?"

"Both." She settled more firmly against him. "Though I think I could drive better."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhmm. Wanna switch?"

They pulled to a stop at a clearing where Erik had planned a break. Y/N hopped out with that same grace she did everything, immediately going to thank their dogs by name because of course she'd memorized them already.

"Sven likes you," Erik noted as one of the huskies practically melted under Y/N's attention.

"The feeling's mutual," she cooed, scratching behind the dog's ears while Jules watched, something warm spreading in his chest that had nothing to do with his heavy coat.

"You're staring again," Van said, appearing beside him with two cups of hot chocolate from Erik's thermos.

"Mind your business."

"Impossible. This is literally the most entertainment I've had since that Mykonos disaster."

"Which you promised to never bring up again."

Van's laugh was loud enough to make the dogs look over. "Sweetie, that story is getting told at your wedding."

"Whose wedding?" Y/N asked, joining them with snow in her hair.

"No one's," Jules said quickly, but Van was already cackling.

"Just planning ahead," she said with a wink before dramatically calling out, "BABE! Come take pictures of me with the dogs for the gram!"

AK dutifully pulled out his camera while Y/N gave Jules a questioning look.

"Do I want to know?"

"Definitely not." He handed her the other hot chocolate. "Ready to show me these superior driving skills you were bragging about?"

And watching her handle the sled with the same confidence she'd shown on the snowmobile (the same confidence she'd shown last night), Jules thought about how sometimes the best things in life came from letting go of control.

The next few days were a mess of heated kisses, late-night jacuzzi sessions that definitely weren't just about enjoying the water, and fucking each other’s brains out. Y/N kept "accidentally" ending up in Jules' room instead of her own, and he definitely wasn't complaining. Even Van's knowing looks at breakfast couldn't dim the way Y/N's sleepy morning smile hit different when she was wearing his clothes.

Santa's Village had Van acting like a whole child, dragging them from attraction to attraction, but Jules couldn't even be annoyed because Y/N kept catching his eye and biting back laughs.

The go-karting was pure chaos – Y/N proving yet again she was secretly an adrenaline junkie, drifting through the snow like she'd been doing it her whole life. "Your girl's crazy," Stef had said, watching her lap Nas for the third time.

Your girl. Jules liked the sound of that more than he probably should.

Sledding turned into an all-out war, teams forming naturally until it was couples versus singles. "That's not fair," Nas had complained. "You two got that honeymoon phase energy!" But watching Y/N trash talk Wilhelm in her posh accent while absolutely destroying everyone on the slopes? Top tier entertainment.

Then New Year's Eve hit, and Van finally got her wish about that club. It was actually decent – something about drinking champagne in an ice bar while the Northern Lights danced overhead felt surreal. But Jules was more focused on how Y/N felt pressed against him as they danced, how she tasted like champagne and promises when they kissed at midnight.

They'd barely left his room the next day, making up for lost time until Van literally broke in with a spare key because "I NEED MY BEST FRIEND!"

Now here they were, back in Paris, the magic of Lapland already feeling like a dream. They landed in Paris just after sunset, the January air was soothing after Lapland's intense cold. The private terminal was quiet except for Van's dramatic goodbyes – she was basically hanging off Y/N like they hadn't just spent a whole week together.

"I'm gonna miss you so much!" Van wailed while AK tried not to laugh.

"Girl, I'll literally see you next weekend," Y/N said, but hugged her back just as tight.

The guys were more lowkey with their goodbyes – Nas and Stef dapping Y/N up with a "you're cool people" and "don't be a stranger," while Wilhelm gave her a quick hug and whispered something that made her laugh and Jules narrow his eyes suspiciously.

"You sure you don't want to stay at AK’s?" Van tried again, finally releasing Y/N. "We can get brunch tomorrow before heading back to London..."

"I've got that editorial meeting first thing," Y/N sighed, adjusting her carry-on. "Need to prep tonight."

That's when Jules stepped in, unable to let the week end just like that. "Stay at mine."

"I really should get back..."

"I’ll even go with you on the train to London tomorrow morning."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Why should I even stay?"

The look he gave her said everything he couldn't in public. Her quiet "fine" was trying to sound put out but didn't quite hit the mark.

In his car, one of his hands was on the wheel while the other found her thigh. The city lights caught the snow that had started falling – nothing like Lapland's heavy drifts, just light dustings that made everything look softer.

"Your playlist is actually decent," Y/N said, scrolling through his Spotify. "Though I'm judging the amount of Drake."

"Leave Drake alone."

"Make me."

His laugh was low. "Later."

They fell into comfortable silence as Steve Lacy came on, and Jules tried to sort through the thoughts that had been building all week. This wasn't supposed to happen – he barely had time to breathe between matches and training, let alone time for a relationship. But here he was, already thinking about when he could see her next.

"So," he finally said, aiming for casual. "This thing..."

"This thing?" Her smile was teasing.

"You know what I mean."

"Do I?"

"You're not going to make this easy, huh?"

Her laugh was soft. "When have I ever made anything easy for you?"

True. From that first moment in the private terminal to right now, she'd challenged him at every turn. Maybe that's why this felt different.

"I want to see where this goes," he said finally. "Like, properly."

"Properly?" She was definitely enjoying watching him squirm. "What exactly does that mean?"

"It means I want to figure out our schedules. See when you can come to Barcelona. When I can come to London." He glanced at her. "If you want."

The smile she gave him made his chest tight. "I want."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She squeezed his hand. "Let's see what happens."

Later, watching her sleep in his bed like she belonged there, Jules thought about how AK finally redeemed himself with suggesting his girl and her bestie join them on their boys trip.

Speaking of AK, Jules' phone buzzed with a text:

"So... best wingman ever or BEST wingman ever?"

For once, Jules didn't argue. He typed out a reply:

"You redeemed yourself…but barely."

Then he placed his phone back onto his bedside table and smiled at a peacefully sleeping Y/N.

Yeah, maybe AK did get it right this time.

[mjbarrosart]

My Dragon Prince Boards season 7, episode 708: My Final Episode

Happy new year!!

Well, the day has arrived! It is time to talk about my last sequence on the last episode of The dragon Prince I worked: season 7, episode 8.

I can not explain you how much work went into the last 3 episodes of season 7. If you check the board artist credits for this episode, several artist worked on each one! Usually a SB unit has 3 artist, but for this last ones every unit was collaborating with each other. There was a lot of work to do.

I boarded the initial sequence of this episode. Or at least the bones of it. 2 things happened that made my input in this episode smaller that in the previous ones:

First, they removed a lot of things from this initial sequence as it was on the script, mostly to make it shorter, because episode 8 is incredible long (almost half an hour!) so they trimmed the beginning to give more space to other sequences that were more relevant. So a lot of the things I did are not there, haha.

Second, By the end of my time in Dragon Prince I got a really cool offer to go to Titmouse (another animation studio) to work on an amazing show (that sadly is still unannounced so I can not talk about it) so, as soon as I finished my boards for episode 8 I left, while most of the team stayed to keep working on revisions of the boards, so while normally I would do the revisions and changes on my own sequences in the past, for this one I was not in Bardel anymore, so some of my talented coworkers did that for me.

As I said the structure of the sequence is close to what I boarded but not the same. All the beats are there, mostly.

Anyway, there are still some shots that I would like to share with you:

Most of the sequence with the corrupted banthers was changed,. because certain things did not happened, so a lot of my shots got changed, but this one survived, and I like it, "Are you betraying us AGAIN, Karim?" hahaha lol

I like this two shots, they look cool.

Also, Karim is such an idiot. As I told before, i worked so much with him during all my seasons in the show, that i kinda like him, but also he is insufferable, lol.

I think that when I was boarding this parts, we were not set on how big Aaravos will be. We had a proxy to work with, but looks like at the end they made him slightly smaller.

And yeah, I had the privileged to Kill Karim, haha.

No regrets, tho. The part when Aaravos clean his hand on his chest was added later, so that was not me.

Its is not up to me to talk about the parts that were cut or changed. This is not my show at the end of the day, and that is something that only the people at Wondersotorm could share with you. I always try to respect how creators choose to tell their stories, and this is the same.

And yeah, a little anti-climatic after all the highs of episodes 702 and 705, but anyway was a privilege to work on this episode and on so many season of this amazing show.

I could write long about how important for me and my career this experience was, but i have the feeling that you already know that, haha.

Thank you for being part of this journey.

And feel free to ask if you have any questions, I always enjoy reading your comments and tags!!

[bewaryofpity]

NEXT STEP IS LOVE - L. HUGHES

[2.0k] luke brings you to the family skate, surprising his teammates, and the usual “i didn't know you had a girlfriend” comes up, but this time luke has enough of calling you just his best friend.

warnings: none ! just some cute ol' fluff; probably really cringey 😔

a/n: she's a short one, and i’m not really fond of it but here it is anyway. sorry guys :(

“Didn’t know Luke had a girlfriend.”

“That’s because he doesn’t. That is his best friend.”

“Bullshit.” Kovacevic laughed in Jack’s face before turning his head back towards Luke near the bench.

Luke was kind of a private person so the idea of him having a secret girlfriend would have made sense to anyone, especially to the new guys he wasn't close with yet. But when Jack revealed that the girl in front of Luke was simply a friend had to be the biggest lie Kovy ever got told. Because friends don’t look at each other that way.

Luke’s fingers were trembling as he tied the laces of your skates carefully, making sure they weren’t too tight or too loose. He felt nervous having you here with him, which was strange because it wasn’t like you’ve never been around the guys before, but the new season meant new guys too. Which also meant that the same old dreaded question was going to come up at any moment.

“Good?”

You nodded in response before stretching your hands out so Luke could help you up the bench. You were wobbly at first, as he tried to hold back the teasing grin creeping on his lips, definitely not used to being on skates as often as him. 

You slowly made your way onto the ice, clutching his hand like your life depended on it. He couldn’t help but keep his gaze on your concentrated face, cheeks flushed from the chill of the arena as you found your rhythm. He was lost in his thoughts, stomach filling with butterflies when your hands squeezed his tighter. And if it weren’t for the little squeak you left out, he would’ve let you fall.

“Sorry,” he said with no hint of honesty in his voice while you shot him a playful look. 

It wasn’t long before you found your footing and let go of his hands to skate side by side. There weren’t many chances for you to hang out with Luke in these settings. The last time you skated together was when he was still a rookie, and he almost got in trouble too many times for using the rink after hours just to teach you how to skate, but you loved every single moment of it. So when he realized your day off coincided with the family skate, he didn’t hesitate to mention it and you couldn’t wait to be there for him, doing something you know would make him happy.

Though, the only thing that was different from those times was the fact that holding Luke’s hands now had your heart doing funny tricks on you. The newfound warmth that has taken over your body in his presence this past year or so was unexpected and scary because you were well aware what this meant and you couldn’t lose Luke over a stupid crush. 

If only you knew that he too got to a point where hiding his feelings for you was actually painful. He tried everything to spend as much time with you as possible. Faking being too tired to drive back to his place and sleep on your couch, missing optional skates, staying up at night before an away game just to hear your voice, letting you nap and waking you up only to convince you to spend the night at his place because i don’t want you to drive, it’s too dark outside and dangerous. It was all worth it in his eyes. But the ache in his chest everytime he had to leave you was becoming harder to suppress than he thought and he couldn’t take it anymore.

As he tried to grab at your brushing hands, Pesce stopped abruptly in front of you and almost knocked you down in the process. 

“Didn’t know Rusty here had a girlfriend.” He said with a grin before turning his attention to Luke, wiggling his brows in a teasing maner.

“Oh, no, I'm just a friend.”

“Oh.”

“His best… friend, actually.” You tried to smile as sincerely as you could. The question never bothered you before, you two were close enough that such was expected, but the way Luke couldn’t look at you during the exchange with his teammate created a pit in your stomach.  

Before he could take you away from the awkwardness of it all, Cotter skated over too. “Here we go,” mumbled Luke. 

“Meeting the girlfriend without me?” 

“Not the girlfriend apparently.”

"Really?" He asked, his tone skeptical as his eyes flicked between you. "Could’ve fooled me."

Luke groaned, not missing the way his teammates exchanged knowing looks and chuckling under their breaths. He couldn’t really blame his teammates for jumping to conclusions. If he were in their shoes, he might have assumed the same thing, it happened way too often anyway.

He grabbed at your hand and pulled you towards him, skating as far as possible from everyone. Was it really that obvious he liked you? Yet, you were still by his side, seemingly not phazed by the constant nagging and teasing from outsiders about your relationship, which could only mean that you didn’t like him back. 

Luke was tired of all of this and the months he spent burying his feelings for you, convincing himself that your friendship was enough, were all coming down on him now with everyone assuming you were a couple. Feeling heavy, he hoped the family skate came to an end soon.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry about them.”

“That’s okay.”

You nodded but didn’t press further, not yet at least. Your hand came to rest around his bicep, seeking his warmth and pretending to need balance as you grew tired. 

The easy rhythm you found earlier was now gone. Luke could tell you were trying to bring yourself comfort by staying close to him, though you kept your gaze on the ground which could only mean you were absorbed in your thoughts. And he hated that it was all his fault, he hated the idea of you thinking he was embarrassed or annoyed by the assumption that you were together. Because he wasn’t, he had dreamed of being your boyfriend more times than he‘d like to admit. And he wanted nothing more than being able to call you his. 

Sensing your exhaustion, he led the way towards the bench to change back into normal shoes. The rink was quieter now, families thinning out. You leaned back, stretching your legs, and looked at him with a small frown on your lips. You didn’t have time to reach down when he brought up one of your feet to untie your skate.

“What’s on your mind, Luke?” 

Luke hesitated, his fingers fumbling with your skate laces. “Nothing.” 

“It’s not nothing, Luke. You’re too quiet, what’s wrong?”

“Does it not bother you when people ask if we’re a couple?”

You blinked at him, startled by the question. It wasn’t what you expected, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. Luke had stopped untying your skate, his hands frozen mid-motion as he waited for your answer. His expression was unreadable, but you could see the tension in his shoulders and the way his jaw tightened.

“Bother me?” You repeated softly, the chill of the rink seemed to seep into your skin, though you weren’t sure if it actually was the cold temperature or the sudden shift in the conversation. “No, not really. I mean, it happens all the time, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Luke nodded slowly, looking down at your skate again. He resumed working on the laces, but his movements were slower now, almost hesitant. You shifted slightly, your other foot tapping lightly against the rubber mat beneath the bench. 

“Does it bother you?” You tilted your head, watching him carefully. 

Luke let out a quiet sigh and dropped his hands on your leg. “I don’t know.” He admitted. “Sometimes, I guess. Not because of what they think, but… because of what it implies.”

“And what does it imply?” 

You echoed, your voice barely above a whisper. Your heart began to race, the steady rhythm you’d been clinging to slowly slipping away. You couldn’t help but search his face for clues, for anything that might explain the sudden vulnerability in his tone.

Luke hesitated, his green eyes flicking up to meet yours for something — permission, maybe, or courage. And for a moment, he seemed to be weighing his next words, his brows drawing together in a way that made your chest ache. 

“Luke…”

“I like you,” he said, the words tumbling out in a rush, as if he was afraid he’d lose his nerve if he waited any longer. “I’ve liked you for a while now and I’ve been trying so hard to pretend that I don’t. I can’t stand being apart from you, I need you close to the point where I am not my own person anymore. I’m tired of the ache in my chest everytime I have to leave you, not just for roadies, but every time we part ways, it’s like I’m a different person without you that I can't recognize.”

“When they say stuff like that, it just makes it harder because I want it to be true. I want us to be more than just friends. I want to wake up next to you and come home to you every day.”

You blinked, clearly caught off guard. You tried to open your mouth as if to speak, but he pressed on, the words tumbling out like water breaking through a dam. His words started fading in your racing mind. His confession hung in the air heavy and raw, and all of it felt like you’ve been hit by a truck. Luke, your best friend, liked you and you were glad he hadn't stopped talking because, truly, you didn’t know what to say.

Luke’s heart felt like it might burst from his chest, every beat echoing in his ears as he braced himself for rejection, for awkwardness, for the possibility that he’d just ruined everything. The silence that followed when he stopped taking felt like an eternity. And for a moment, you just stared at him, expression unreadable. 

“You don’t have to say anything. I just… wanted you to know.”

You dropped your foot to the ground and scooted closer to him. As he turned to face you, your hand pressed against his cheek and you leaned in to place a delicate kiss on his lips. It was soft, almost hesitant, but it was enough to make Luke freeze. His mind blanked, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it. When you pulled back, your face was mere inches from his, your hand still lingering on his cheek. Your cheeks were flushed, though whether from the cold or the weight of the moment, he couldn’t tell.

His heart pounded in his chest as you bit your lip, your hand dropping from his face to rest on your lap. 

“It’s always been you, Luke.” Your gaze met his once more, the blush on his cheeks making him cuter than he ever looked. Luke’s eyes widened, still incredulous even after your kiss. 

“Really?”

“Really.” You smiled, a small, tentative curve of your lips as you nodded.

He leaned forward slightly clearing his throat, his eyes searching yours. “Can I kiss you again?” He asked, voice barely audible.

This time, the kiss wasn’t hesitant or fleeting. It was soft and tender, a promise of everything you both hoped to build together. When you finally pulled apart, your foreheads rested against each other, and for the first time in a long while, everything felt right.

“Hey, lovebird! Tone it down a bit, there’s kids around.”

Luke groaned at one of the guys’ teasing from the other side of the rink, and you laughed at his antics, the weight on your shoulders had finally been lifted off. 

“So… does that mean you’ll be my girlfriend?” You didn’t know your cheeks could flush any more, and smiling at his question, you reached up to brush a stray strand of hair from his face.

“Eh, I’ll have to think about that.”

[bullet-prooflove]

I have no idea if this is correct based on the NSFW rumor post (so if it's not, I'm sorry!) but immediately I thought of Joe Velasco and Reader. I've got SVU on the brain atm due to my binging the whole show (can you believe there are some episodes I still haven't seen? It feels like a crime in itself) and I'm still in season 1, just finishing the episode that featured BDSM and other things. Anyways, I was thinking for the rumor, we know canon Joe is looking to make a connection with someone and how he would be most likely during a sexual encounter. But what if the rumor was that Joe liked things rough or had a kink or something like that?

Again, I'm sorry if I'm not doing this right or even if you would be interested, but I just figured I'd give it a shot. 😊

Tagging: @kmc1989 @plaidbooks @witches-unruly-heart @storiesofsvu @rosaliedepp

Babe don’t you worry! This is my first time doing it to so we will figure it out together or make our own shit up!

I have this seasons eps to watch and then I think I’m all caught up.

So here’s what I came up with regarding that rumour:

You’re getting coffee on your way into work when you hear the rumour about Joe. your phone chimes and you pull open your Bad Ass Bitchez chat you have with a few other women in the precinct and there it is sitting on your screen.

About how he likes to leave bruises on his conquests, that he tends to get a little rough.

You know where it’s coming from, the cousin of one of junior detectives had a couple of dates with him a few months ago but it didn’t go anywhere. She’d tried to start things up again recently after they’d run into each other at the gym but he’d told her he was seeing someone, that it was starting to get serious.

Your cousin has a history of making up stuff,  You type back into the chat. Maybe remind her she could be ruining a good cop’s career with those half-truths of hers.

There’s silence after that but you know you’ve made your point.

When you lay eyes on Joe sitting at his desk, you know he’s heard it. His head’s bowed, his shoulders slouched as he focuses on the report in front of him, trying to make himself as invisible as possible.

Your palm comes to rest on the nape of his neck, your thumb tracing a soothing circle underneath that sensitive spot just underneath his ear. He sighs at the sensation, his muscles relaxing as he tilts his head up towards you.

“It’s bullshit.” He informs you, meeting your gaze. “You know me, you know I can’t stand the thought of hurting someone like that…”

You do know that, because you know Joe, his history, the type of man he is. You’re the one he spends his nights with, the one he makes love to in the early mornings as the sun starts to filter through the blinds.

“Keep your chin up.” You murmur, your hand shifting to his shoulder squeezing lightly. “The truth will come out, I’ll make sure of it.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[hawkinshistoricalsociety]

so I'm a pretty firm believer that these two shots from the BTS video are from the same sequence and that Will wanders away from the picnic table during this "episode" of whatever supernatural sort he's being afflicted with in s5 over to Hawkins Middle School (where you can see him in the foreground of the shot, touching the back of his neck. I mean who else would it be).

Mike, Lucas, and Dustin don't seem to realize at first, but then at least Lucas and Mike run after him.

Anyways, was wondering if there's anything to be gleaned from where it is specifically in the Middle School and do think I've pinpointed it.

Here's what we've got in terms of distinguishing characteristics of this hallway:

(sidenote, I have no idea what's out of focus on the right in the foreground, maybe a door or some lockers?)

Guess where those features are also present? outside the bathroom by Mr. Salerno's, where Will found Dart in s02e03!

the two doors before the "furred out" part of the wall (I'm actually not sure what the actual name is for that kind of wall condition, sorry lol) aren't really visible in that shot, but they are when Mike walks that way earlier on.

(you can also just see the fire alarm right by the outside doors from the ST5 BTS video shot of Mike and Lucas but it's pretty small so I opted not to annotate it)

so that means this should happen right where the gate was that El used to return to "regular Hawkins" during the events of the s1 finale

pap photos from the school set seems to support this, as there was Middle School set dressing in a hallway with stairs, and the paw print also seemed to get some attention.

if the tape was for actor blocking, Will maybe even stood on the stairs there for that shot, IDK if the perspective supports that or not!

(I also don't really think we'll spend much more time at the Middle School, sorry Erica)

hard to draw conclusions that are too strong while we know so little about what the nature of whatever Will is experiencing supernaturally this season, but it's not hard to make the leap that he is pulled to this spot because of imprints of the Upside Down-related happenings in s2, whether that was Dart, the MF possession, or the Demogorgon's little Gate, I guess we'll see...

(also standard disclaimer that they might just have picked the spot that best allowed them to achieve whatever visuals they needed to and all of this could mean nothing :) )

[snorlaxlovesme]

my problem recommending Link Click to people

clearly, i love Link Click. i find the show emotionally compelling, the characters are well-written and interesting, the complex/convoluted plot is very crunchy for my adhd brain to chew on. LOVE that. however. i have yet to find a person irl who Sees My Vision when i recommend the show to them, and i think it's the fandom's fault.

not in bad way! but i think this show is a good example of media that exists for FANS and not casual viewers.

season 1 is by far the most accessible. a straightforward story about two guys solving crime by time travelling in photos. don't mess up the past, it could mess up the future, etc etc. everything is linear, the character motivations are pretty clear, the plot is seriously gripping. the only accessibility hurdles are the piss poor subs we had to deal with and the lack of on-screen text translation. and i suppose if you don't like shows that are episode-5-level heavy then this probably isn't the show for you.

season 2 already starts off on a very niche foot with the fact that there was a pretty big spoiler (or a hint at one) in the XETROVERTHINK music video that released before the season aired. fans who knew about that video were already speculating, and by the first 30 seconds of season 2, theories were running RAMPANT. NOW everyone was intentionally looking for hints of time travel mid-season. they were predicting how and when cheng xiaoshi might die. it made an extremely confusing season FUN because even when we didn't know what the hell was going on, we could always fall back on the lu guang timeloop theory to chew on.

but if you didn't see the XETROVERTHINK video? well, you probably weren't paying as close attention to what lu guang was saying in the first 30 seconds. the shot of cheng xiaoshi dying lasted for only a second or two. blink and you miss it. if you didn't rewatch the episode, you probably wouldn't notice. in a show where so many things don't make sense, that could have just been one more to add to the pile.

cut back to all the people that I've forced to watch the show, I can say that they did NOT have the same watching experience that i had as a fun following along on tumblr. which is fine, but they do look at me like i'm insane when i try to explain that this is the most fun show ever created.

after one of my friends finished season 2 i sent him a draft of the fic i was writing for some feedback and when he got to season 2-spoiler specific part, he didn't fully understand that lu guang had gone back in time to prevent cheng xiaoshi from dying, and therefore didn't understand what i had written. he didn't have the fandom, who had been speculating about that for 12 full weeks before the reveal, so as a casual fan, the first time he received that info was in that last 2 minutes of the season, and he didn't full understand it

my younger sister has made it to yingdu, and every time i try to talk to her about it when get to talk about shiguang a lot, but i don't have much time to sit her down and show her frame by frame analyses of why the lu guang vs vein interaction in episode one looks like it might be in two different timelines. she's not seeing that there's morse code in the books or interpreting sonnets or pausing to check the eye color of characters, so when i talk to her about it we're scratching maybe 3% of what the show is truly communicating with us.

and again, it makes me look like a total headcase when i try to explain to people that this is the best show ever and so much fun because if you're not INTERACTING with the show and with the fans, mulling over the minute details in a scene or asking for a more accurate translation of something, it's like you're missing out on most of the show

i once tried to recommend my sister one of my favorite pokemon fanfics of all time. she'd read some others and seemed interested, so i sent her the link and then told her that to fully understand it she'd need to have knowledge of basically every major character in the entire pokemon anime, from kid trainers to gym leaders to Champions to villains to rivals to professors. she'd also have to know how they all relate to each other, PLUS some game characters. i sent her a list of episodes she needed to watch for character and plot relevance and links to wikipedias for other main characters. after she absorbed all this information then she could truly understand why this was the greatest fic ever!!

that's what recommending Link Click is feeling like, currently. like i want you to like this show, i want you to understand this show like i do, but that means you HAVE to be insane about it. there's no other way to appreciate it if you're not in the fandom.

[hellsinvestigativereporter]

Let's take a moment to consider a few glimmers of hope in this time of repose between season 2 and 3 of helluva boss my dear readers.

1. We never actually saw Moxxie's mother die. The person his old man made him throw off the boat was based on evidence I've gathered was not his mother, just some poor schmuck who was probably Moxxie's initiation to "da family business." And it should also be noted that in shows like this there is a rule: "no body, no death." All we really saw was his mom's shoe surface out of the water. It suggests things sure but... she may have just ditched the shoes during a possible escape attempt.

2. Octavia is fully aware of the monster her mother is so any plans her uncle may have had for her are shot. And let's face it stella is very much Cersei Lannister. All cruelty and very little brains. And well, octavia took on her uncle as well so he's got no hold over her either. She is however alone and that does not rule out the possibility that someone else could come in and sink their claws into this lonely girl but for now... at least she is apprised of the situation and after thinking about it for a time she may realize she was being too harsh.

3. Loona seems to have finally healed and gone from a sourpuss tweenager to a social, happy, out going young woman who has accepted Blitz as her father. Need I say more?

4. Millie is going to be a mother. Now you all may know I have some DEEP concerns about the circumstances of the incoming young thing but even if things do go sideways Stolas has experience being a parent and Blitz would 100 percent be there for her regardless of what strain it would put on her and Moxxie's marriage so there is a support group... dare i say... family?

5. Stolas is not dead.

6. Stolas is now in a position where based on the strength of his character can now learn about the hardships of those born of lesser privilege than himself and become a wiser man for it.

7. Finally... Blitz is the talk of the town. Speaking strictly from a business standpoint he's getting free advertisement for his company now and may even get some new sponsors for the company and really start making some big bucks.

At any rate dear readers let us remember that while life is not always rainbows and lollipops it's not always gloom and doom either. You just have to follow Blitz's example of charging ahead no matter the challenges because in the struggle that is where we discover strengths we did not know we had. Food for thought.

[brionysea]

here's another example of mike breaking the pattern by being the first one to do it

bonus foreshadowing:

[sticcmann]

Silco bagged such a baddie I fucking love singed he is so beautiful

[helielune]

zipper man //sketch

[stan-joe]

hey link click fans just to make your day worse I'm pretty sure the entire last few episodes happened on lu guang's birthday

[inexpressiblybeautiful]

Hotel Portofino be like: Bury your gays and also bury your child.

[murraywalker]

I've just finished Life on Mars and I have feelings.