Hii

neteyam was born to la la la la la la but was forced to ok ok ok ok ok :(

lost and found

hwang jun-ho x f!reader

the world is cruel, and you and the officer find out that it will get worse.

warnings: mentions of death! unfortunately, squid game is in this one. romantic tension. slow burn-ish. this takes place during season 1. junho being innocently stalker-ish. PTSD, stealing/theft, pre-established relationship, it gets spicy towards the end. platonic saebyeok x f!reader and platonic gi hun x f!reader too.

the city of seoul has never been kind to you.

it used to be, once upon a time. when you were young and did not know much, before the world decided to spit you out like something bitter and unwanted. back then, you were soft. you had this endless capacity to love, to forgive, to believe that people were good at their core. 

maybe some still are, but you don’t care to look for them anymore. there was a time when your empathy was your greatest strength…when you saw someone struggling, you helped, even if it meant giving them the last bit of food in your pocket. 

however, life has a way of chewing up people like you. people who give too much. people who don’t know when to stop bleeding for others.

so now, you don’t give. 

you take.

survival in seoul isn’t kind to the softhearted. there are too many wolves in this city, too many people ready to step on your neck the moment you let your guard down. you learned that the hard way. so you adjusted, adapted. you became what you needed to be to live. 

you steal, scam, and take what you need from those who won’t miss it. not too much…never enough to bring too much attention to yourself or get charged for the felony equivalent in south korea. you only steal enough to survive. enough to make it another day. 

your hands are quick, your mind sharper. you’ve learned how to slip through the cracks of the world, how to turn your heart into steel since nobody else ever cared about you.

some nights, when the neon lights of hongdae reflect against the pavement and the city hums with life, you sit alone and wonder if there’s a way out of this. the party life is just right outside of your apartment.

sometimes you wonder if there’s a light waiting for you at the end of the tunnel. 

each time, the answer is the same. 

no.

there is no light. there is only the dark tunnel.

in seoul, it’s late, the air thick with the scent of soju and grilled meat, laughter spilling out from the bars lining the street. the party district of hongdae is alive, especially tonight since college students go back to school tommorow.

the sidewalks are crammed with people stumbling between clubs, couples clinging to each other, groups of friends taking drunken selfies under the flickering streetlights. it’s an easy place to disappear into, a perfect hunting ground for someone like you.

you spot the redhead almost immediately.

she looks around your age, maybe a little older. the woman’s purse hangs loosely over her shoulder, the zipper half-open, a bunch of 50,000 won bills peeking out. 

that girl is too careless. too trusting, too stupid. your fingers twitch. you don’t hesitate. you step forward, close enough to brush past her, then your hand snatches the purse in one swift motion.

“hey!” she yelps, whirling around, reaching for you. the girl’s fingers graze your sleeve, but you’re faster. you yank the purse away, shoving her back hard. she stumbles, hitting the pavement with a startled cry. 

you don’t feel anything. not guilt, not regret. you feel just the rush of adrenaline as you clutch the stolen bag tighter and start to run off.

then…

“hey, stop!”

your head snaps behind.

a police officer.

the voice of authority cuts through the noise of the crowd, sharp and commanding. your eyes lock onto him for a split second…a man with dark hair, strong jaw, eyes locked onto you with unwavering determination.

fuck.

you don’t hesitate. your feet move before your mind can catch up, body twisting as you bolt into the crowd. the bag is clutched tight in your arms as you weave through bodies, heart slamming against your ribs. behind you, the officer is still yelling, shoving past people, chasing you.

it’s a long run. too long. your lungs burn, your legs scream in protest, but you can’t stop. not now. you need this money to survive and cannot spend a night in a cold cell, not again at least.

the streets blur as you sprint, twisting through alleyways, slipping through groups of people too drunk to notice you. the officer is persistent, but so are you. 

the desperation makes you faster in way.

left. right. through a narrow gap between two buildings. past a food stall. over a railing. you smacked into a few people but most of them mainly found entertainment in the whole thing. the police officer being frustrated that they didn’t catch you for him. 

you can still hear his feet running behind you, but the distance is growing. he’s good, but you’re better. you have to be.

finally, finally, you see an opening…a narrow alley packed with people, bodies pressed together in drunken laughter. you push into the throng, squeezing between them, head down, moving fast. 

the moment you’re inside the mass of people, you twist, slipping out the other side.

the officer doesn’t make it through in time.

you could swear that you heard him swear, then nothing.

you keep running until you’re sure he’s gone, until your lungs burn and your vision blurs.

back in the alley, hwang jun-ho stands at the edge of the crowd, hands on his knees, breathing hard. frustration twists in his chest. 

he catches everyone, but not you tonight. 

not this time.

just a few blocks away, you just linger among the party crowd. you don’t go home immediately since that would be stupid. instead, you just take a long, winding path through backstreets and alleyways, making sure no one is following you. 

only when you’re certain that you’ve shaken off any lingering attention do you head back to your apartment.

your door has two locks, and you slide the security bar into place before exhaling. safe.

the stolen purse hits your kitchen island with a dull thud. you waste no time, unzipping it and dumping everything out onto the table.

a fenty lip gloss, used and sticky. gross. a single tampon, the woman could’ve kept that.

a metro card..you toss it straight into the trash since it's too risky and can be tracked.

then, jackpot.

there were identification cards which were meaningless to you. the thick wad of cash though? that’s everything. you grab the bills, hands steady as you start counting. 10,000 won, 50,000 won, 100,000 won… when you’re finished, the total stands at 1,200,000 won.

this isn’t just a good night. this is security. rent for next month, covered. a few days inside, hidden, making sure that officer doesn’t recognize you.

you let out a slow breath. for now, you’re safe.

well, only for three days because now the cold steel of the chair digs into your back as you slouch against it, wrists resting lazily in your lap, the handcuffs cold against your skin. the precinct smells of burnt coffee and old papers, fluorescent lights humming above you.

you had a few days of peace before the cops knocked on your door, telling you that you had to go down to the station. they know you by name now, not bothering to go an extra mile since you never change the signature of your crimes.

the only reason you’re not behind bars is because the girl you robbed doesn’t even live here. she already went back to her home in the UK according to the officer. so, fortunately, you just get another warning. 

you should be relieved, maybe even grateful, but you don’t feel anything. nothing at all.

across from you, leaning against the edge of the desk with arms crossed, is the officer who chased you that night. hwang jun-ho is his name.

he is pissing you off. not for being a pig, but you hate that he looks good in the dim light, hate the sharp angles of his face, the slight furrow in his brow as he watches you like you’re some puzzle he can’t quite solve. 

you’re used to police officers looking at you with disgust, with judgment, but there’s something different in his gaze. curiosity.

“so,” he finally speaks, his voice even. 

“you’re fast.”

you shrug. 

“what can i say?”

he tilts his head slightly, gaze sweeping over you in assessment. 

“you play sports?”

you exhale sharply through your nose, a ghost of a laugh. 

“that’s not important.”

jun-ho smirks, but it’s gone just as quickly as it appears. 

“fair.”

he steps away, pacing to the side as he flips through a thin file…yours, probably. your name, your face, your crimes reduced to black ink on paper. you wonder how much of your life is in there, if they know more than just your record.

“you’ve been warned before,” he says, flipping a page.

 “a few times, actually. shoplifting. scams. pickpocketing.” he closes the file and meets your gaze. “but no felony charges.”

“guess i’m lucky,” you say, leaning back, feigning boredom.

“not luck,” jun-ho corrects, sliding his hands into his pockets. 

“just smart enough to not take it too far.” he tilts his head slightly. 

you say nothing, looking away.

“give back the purse.”

you reach your cuffed hands under the table, grabbing the bag and tossing it onto the desk between you. the leather is slightly worn from the days you’ve had it, but nothing else is out of place.

jun-ho watches you carefully, then sighs. 

“the money.”

you don’t move.

the money is in your safe, in your bedroom walls, at home. 

the money you refuse to give back.

he exhales through his nose, shaking his head like he expected this. 

“of course.”

you let the silence settle between you, waiting for whatever lecture is coming, but he doesn’t scold you. instead, he leans in just slightly, dropping his voice.

“i’m keeping an eye on you.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes. 

“right. cause you’ve got nothing better to do.”

jun-ho doesn’t react, his face unreadable. 

“considering this isn’t your first warning? yeah. i don’t.”

you push back in your chair, the metal legs scraping against the floor. 

“well, officer,” you say, tone sharp with sarcasm, “i look forward to our next meeting.”

jun-ho watches as you’re escorted out, his eyes following you even as you disappear down the hall.

weeks pass and you try to forget about the encounter, about the way his voice sounded when he said your name, about the way his dark eyes studied you like you were something worth understanding. 

you try to focus on surviving. 

you get a job… a shitty one, but one that pays enough to keep you afloat for now.

every now and then, when you step into a small café for breakfast, when you walk through the streets at night, when you’re with your only friend sae-byeok whispering about her crimes… he’s there.

jun-ho is never too far away, usually across the street or on the other side of a park.

he never does anything and he never speaks, but you see him, leaning against a wall, pretending to be busy with his phone, pretending to be on patrol. 

however, his eyes will always follow you.

one evening, you and sae-byeok finish a quick meal at a convenience store, standing outside by the flickering neon lights. she shoves her hands into her pockets, giving you a knowing look.

“that asshole is staring again.”

you sigh, glancing over.

jun-ho stands across the street, pretending he’s not looking directly at you.

sae-byeok chuckles under her breath. 

“he’s obsessed with you.”

“he’s a cop,” you mutter. 

“it’s his job to be annoying.”

she nudges your arm. 

“you should go say hi.”

“and what? tell him to fuck off?”

she grins. 

“exactly.”

you roll your eyes, watching as she walks off. 

once she’s gone, you take a deep breath and cross the street, closing the distance between you and jun-ho.

he looks up as you approach, not surprised.

“you’re a creep,” you say flatly.

jun-ho exhales through his nose, barely amused. 

“you’re a criminal.”

“not anymore.”

his brows lift slightly.

“really?”

“yeah,” you say, crossing your arms. 

“i found a job. so get off my back. i’m not stealing anymore.”

jun-ho hums, unconvinced. 

“that’s a trend for you.”

you glare at him. 

“what?”

he shrugs, “you get a job, hate the pay, then go back to stealing… sometimes from the same place you work at.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes. “you need a better hobby, i cannot live in your head rent free.”

“i have one,” he says, avoiding what you said last. 

“i’m just doing my job.”

you shake your head, stepping back. “whatever,” you mutter, turning on your heel and walking off. you know he won’t follow. he never does but somehow he’s always close.

overtime, maybe a week or so.. jun-ho never thought that he’d be the type of cop to get overly invested. not really. working for the police is his job…catching criminals, chasing leads, dealing with lowlifes who made their money through terrible means. he never let himself get too curious, never let himself care too much to where it affected his personal life.

however, you, you are a puzzle he can’t help but try to solve.

at first, it was just an annoyance. you had slipped through his fingers that night in hongdae, and that bruised his ego. he didn’t lose people, but somehow, you had outrun him. a girl whos shorter than him.

when he finally caught you, he had expected to feel satisfaction, but it never came because instead, he just felt intrigued.

now, you’re barely doing anything wrong. you’ve stayed out of trouble for a while, and he should be relieved. he should be happy. instead, he finds himself watching and observing because despite all the things you’ve done, despite the walls you keep up, there are cracks in that mask of yours… ones he never expected to see.

he sees it in the way you linger at the local market, the way your fingers brush over fresh fruit before you tuck them carefully into a paper bag, paying with what little money you have. he wonders why you never steal from here, why the vendors greet you with small nods instead of suspicion.

junho sees it in the alley behind the convenience store, where stray cats weave between your ankles, tails flicking in contentment as you crouch down to feed them scraps of tuna and unseasoned chicken. 

you don’t talk to them, don’t coo at them like most people would… but your hands are gentle, your touch careful, as if you’re afraid of breaking something fragile.

then, there’s the lemonade stand thing that happened yesterday afternoon.

jun-ho didn’t even mean to see it. he’s just in the police car, just patrolling, when he spots you across the street. there’s a kid that sis no older than ten standing behind a makeshift stand with a pitcher of lemonade and a stack of plastic cups. 

the sign is messy, written in thick, uneven strokes. 1,000 won per cup!

he watches as you pause, as you reach into your pocket, pulling out a crumpled bill.

you hand it to the boy.

you don’t take the over-sweetened lemonade. you just shove your hands in your pockets and walk away before the kid can even thank you.

jun-ho doesn’t know why that bothers him so much.

maybe it’s because it doesn’t fit the version of you he’s built in his head. the version that’s cold, calculating, selfish, and greedy. that version is wrong, isn’t it? a selfish person wouldn’t waste their own money on a kid just trying to make some change. 

a selfish person wouldn’t play with stray cats or make sure to buy expensive fruit instead of stealing it.

he doesn’t know what your story is, but he’s starting to understand that you are not heartless. reckless? yes. irresponsible? absolutely. not cruel. not fully empty like you try to seem.

that fact is becoming his problem.

he’s read your file. he knows more than he should. your past, the childhood neglect, the system that failed you over and over again. he’s seen it before with people turning bitter, turning desperate, because the world gave them nothing and expected them to make do.

he’s a police officer, not a superhero. he can’t fix that or fix you.

junho wishes you would just stop making stupid decisions. maybe if you did, maybe if you found a way out of this cycle.

maybe then, he could approach you differently.

maybe then, he wouldn’t just be watching.

see, you’re not stupid.

jun-ho might be a good cop, but he’s a shit liar.

he acts like he’s patrolling, like he’s just doing his job. you know better. he’s watching you nd keeping tabs on you. the man is always near, always somewhere in the background. does he have a wife? kids? maybe not, he is still on the younger side. maybe just five to seven years older than you. its clear that he is single with too much freetime.

maybe if you were the same person you were five years ago, soft, trusting, and hopeful, you would have been creeped out, even scared that a police officer was suspicious of you. 

now, it just makes you feel something you don’t want to name.

you know you haven’t stolen in weeks. you haven’t picked a pocket, scammed a dumb drunk, or lifted a wallet off a distracted tourist. that 1,200,000 won is keeping you stable… at least for now. long enough, hopefully, until jun-ho gets bored and moves on.

lately, the thought of him moving on, of him not watching you anymore, makes your chest feel tight because no one notices you. no one ever has in the large city of seoul.

your only friend, sae-byeok, even disappeared at times. 

throughout your whole life, you’ve been invisible to the people who should’ve cared, to the world that chewed you up and spat you out, to the strangers who walk past you every day without a second glance. 

jun-ho, that damn police officer, he sees you. even if he’s just doing it because he thinks you’ll screw up again, even if it’s nothing but routine for him, it still means something.

that pisses you off.

he’s annoying because he’s too attractive for his own good, because he gets under your skin in a way no one else does or has ever had.

so when you spot him across the street, writing up some guy for speeding, you don’t think and you just move.

you stand a few feet away and wait until he’s finished, watching as he hands over the ticket with that same unimpressed expression he always wears. when the guy finally drives off in frustration, you step forward, hands in your pockets, your voice laced with teasing amusement.

“well, it looks like you finally found something else to do besides watching me.”

jun-ho doesn’t even look surprised. just rolls his eyes as he slips his notepad back into his jacket. 

“trust me, you’re not that interesting.”

you smirk. 

“oh, really? then why are you always around?”

he exhales sharply, shaking his head. 

“coincidence.”

“bullshit.”

he huffs a laugh, crossing his arms. 

“you’re awfully confident for someone who’s one mistake away from getting arrested.”

you tilt your head, stepping a little closer, just enough to make it personal. 

“i haven’t stolen in weeks. you know that. so what’s your excuse, officer?”

jun-ho says nothing, just looks at you, unreadable. for a second, you think you see something flicker in his eyes… something not quite irritation, not quite amusement.

then he sighs, “go home, y/n. it's getting late.”

you grin, ignoring the way his voice sounds when he says your name. 

“whatever you say, officer.”

you step back, turning on your heel, but before you walk away, you glance over your shoulder.

“see you tomorrow.”

jun-ho doesn’t respond, but you don’t need him to because you both know the truth. i mean there were no plans but he is never too far away from you.

not even an hour later in the subway, you press your tongue against the inside of your cheek, fingers gripping the red square piece of paper between your thumb and index finger. 

your palms sting, and faint imprints of the salesman’s hand still tingling against the skin on your face. the bastard had slapped you twice, only twice, but your pride felt more bruised than your face.

you should’ve walked away from the salesman who sat down next to you, you should’ve kept your head down, taken your money from the last round, and gone home. the moment he laughed at you, and told you that him and his “organization” knew everything about you, you knew that this was no coincidence. 

the salesman had handed you a small card before leaving the station, something he implied that would change your life. it was thin, a little worn at the edges, the symbols on the front simple but strange: a circle, a triangle, a square.

you flip it over.

a phone number.

“call when you’re ready for your chance,” the man had said, smiling like he knew something you didn’t.

you stare at the numbers, tapping the card against your palm as the subway car sways gently beneath your feet. 

something about it feels off. it’s too mysterious, too cryptic… but the promise of financial freedom? of something bigger?

you need that.

you close your eyes briefly, exhaling through your nose. you don’t know why, but in the back of your mind, you wish jun-ho had been there.

not to stop you, necessarily… but just to be there.

if he had been, maybe he would’ve told you to be careful. maybe he would’ve pulled you away from the salesman, away from whatever this was, away from another stupid decision.

however, jun-ho has his own problems.

across the city, jun-ho exhales sharply, staring at the thin card between his fingers. little did you know, he did have a life outside of work. junho’s mind is elsewhere, swirling with frustration, worry, and a growing sense of unease. 

inho, his older brother, his only family besides his mom, has been missing for weeks.

no leads. no clues. just gone. until now.

the man in front of him.. gi-hun, scruffy, desperate, looking defeated, tells junho that he made up a lie at the police station. a lie about a card that junho saw on his brother’s desk. 

“where did you get this?” jun-ho asks, his voice steady but demanding.

jun-ho remembers the card. a circle. triangle. square.

inho had this same card in his apartment before he vanished.

when gihun walks away, junho lets him but he does not give up. 

meanwhile, you sit in the subway car, flipping the card between your fingers, picking on the inside of your cheek with your teeth.

a few nights later, jun-ho knows that he shouldn’t be here outside.

it’s past midnight, and he should be going home after his shift, should be focusing on his brother, should be figuring out why gi-hun is connected to all of this. however, when he spots gi-hun walking down the empty street, he moves on instinct, following from a safe distance.

the thing is that he doesn’t expect to see you but there you are passing gi hun on the block, keeping your head down while walking down the quiet street.

you don’t see junho. you’re too busy walking, hands deep in your pockets, shoulders tense. at first, he assumes the worst… that you’re about to do something stupid, that you’re going back to your old habits, that you’ll make him chase you again.

he should leave you alone but junho can’t so he detours, shadowing you instead.

but then, you stop.

jun-ho narrows his eyes, staying low behind a parked car. you stand outside a small park, unmoving. your hands tighten in your pockets, and for a moment, it almost looks like you’re hesitating and then the van pulls up.

jun-ho stiffens, watching as you glance up, exhaling a breath before stepping forward. the door slides open and you climb in. three seconds later, smoke fills up the van’s windows. a thick, white, flooding the air.

jun-ho’s heart pounds. he watches as the van lingers for only a few seconds before pulling away, disappearing down the street.

“the hell?” he mutters under his breath, immediately making his way back to his car. the officers hands grip the wheel tightly as he follows, keeping a careful distance, headlights off. the man’s mind races… who the hell were these people? did you know them? were you in danger?

the van slows down five blocks later and and jun-ho’s stomach drops.

gi-hun, standing with the same look you had.

the van door slides open again, the same cloud of smoke spilling out into the night air.

gi-hun stumbles, barely reacting before he collapses, his body slumping forward.

jun-ho grips the steering wheel tighter, his jaw clenching.

this wasn’t just some underground scam.

this was something else, something big, and now, he had to protect two people.

one… a man who might be his only lead to his missing brother.

the other… a woman who had no idea what kind of hell she was walking into.

three days later, your body is stiff, motionless, even as your mind screams at you to run. that is because you don’t belong here. you never did.

the deaths, the endless and ruthless deaths, should’ve broken you by now. however, you refuse to let it show. you refuse to let anyone see that you’re barely keeping yourself together, that your heart threatens to claw its way out of your chest every time a gunshot echoes through the air.

sae-byeok notices, though. she always does.

she ended up in these games. she is player 067, and you are player 404. luckily, sae byeok stays close, her presence grounding you, keeping you from slipping too far into your own head. you’ve survived red light, green light. you’ve survived dalgona, but surviving isn’t the same as living.

you exhale slowly, fists clenched as the guards flood into the dorms due to some sort of situation. their guns are raised, black masks concealing their faces. your eyes flick to sae-byeok, who remains perfectly still, her expression unreadable. 

beside you, gi-hun tenses.

a guard steps forward, voice sharp.

“do you know any player by the name of hwang in-ho?”

gi-hun shakes his head. 

“no.”

“w-we don’t use our names in here.”

he continues, 

however, your breath hitches, barely audible.

because that voice…

you turn your head, scanning the line of guards, your heart pounding against your ribs.

it’s stupid. so stupid.

you’re being paranoid. you’re in survival mode, and your mind is playing tricks on you.

jun-ho is not here.

for a second, just a second, your eyes lock onto the guard that was behind you. somehow, the guard doesn’t look away.

your throat tightens but it’s impossible.

stop thinking about jun-ho all the time. he is not here.

you force yourself to clear your thoughts, shaking your head slightly before looking away, pretending the moment never happened.

the guards stay for a few more minutes, checking something… you don’t know what, don’t care what… before they leave. 

however, you sit back down in exhaustion, hoping to get out of here soon. 

three more days go by and the air is thick with the stench of blood and rain.

your fingers twitch, your breathing shallow, but all you can do is stare. sang-woo’s body lies motionless in front of you, crimson pooling beneath him. dead. you should feel something. anything. relief, maybe. satisfaction. however, all you feel is rage. burning, searing rage.

sae-byeok should be here. sangwoo killed sae-byeok just a few hours before this moment.

sae-byeok should be standing beside you, should be breathing, should be alive.

the only person in your life is now gone.

now it’s just you and gi-hun.

you tighten your fists, nails digging into your palms as the finality of it all crashes down on you like a tidal wave. you won. you and gi-hun are the last ones standing. it doesn’t feel like a victory though, it feels like a punishment.

you don’t remember much after that.

it’s all a blur. the way the guards forced you into a van, blindfolded, hands tied. you barely even processed the moment they threw you back onto the cold pavement of the city, the impact sending a sharp ache through your ribs. you untie yourself quickly, fingers trembling slightly as you rip the blindfold off, blinking against the dim streetlights.

you’re back but not in those suffocating green jumpsuits, not in that godforsaken arena of death. you’re in your own clothes. the same ones you wore before stepping into that van all those days ago.

your breath comes out shaky as you pat yourself down, desperate for something, anything, that proves this wasn’t some fever dream, that you’re really standing here, that you made it out.

your fingers brush against something solid, metallic. your stomach twists. slowly, you pull it from your pocket. a gold card. your hands tremble as you stare at it. you already know what it means.

however, you have to see it with your own eyes. 

you take off running, feet pounding against the pavement as you sprint to the nearest ATM.

your heart is hammering in your chest when you shove the card into the machine, barely able to keep your hands steady. the screen loads, the numbers processing.

your breath catches.

balance: 22.8 billion won.

you sway on your feet, gripping the edge of the ATM, fingers white-knuckled.

you made it. you’re free since there is no more stealing, no more running, no more waking up every day wondering if you’ll make it to the next.

you won.

why does it feel so fucking hollow?

why does the sight of those numbers on the screen make your stomach churn instead of settle?

why do you feel like you lost more than you won?

you exhale, stepping away from the ATM, forcing yourself to straighten.

you have to keep moving.

you have to act normal because the moment you let this break you, the moment you let the cracks widen,  is the moment you really lose.

deep down, you know it.

things aren’t over yet.

more weeks go by and your apartment doesn’t feel like home anymore. it’s the same. its the same same peeling wallpaper, same secondhand furniture, same dim lighting that flickers in the kitchen. however, you are different.

the streets outside are loud, too loud. car horns make you flinch, sudden shouts send ice down your spine, and every time you close your eyes, you see flashes of red. of green. of bodies hitting the ground. living in the city does not seem like a smart idea anymore.

however, you force yourself to settle back into your old routine. you buy fruit at the market. you feed the stray cats. you pretend everything is fine.

nothing is fine.

suddenly, a knock on your door brings back another old routine.

it’s light. soft.

you don’t flinch since it was so light but your heart pounds anyway.

you hesitate before opening the door, fingers gripping the handle tighter than necessary. when you see him standing there, alive, real,  your breath catches in your throat.

jun-ho.

for a moment, you just stare.

your chest tightens, your throat burns, and you feel dangerously close to crying. for weeks, you’ve convinced yourself that he moved on. that he never noticed you were gone and that he forgot you. he’s here.

junho’s eyes scan your face carefully, like he’s checking to see if you’re really okay.

“can i come in?” his voice is softer than you remember.

you nod quickly, stepping aside.

he enters, his presence filling the small space as you shut the door behind him. he doesn’t move much, just stands there, hands in his pockets, eyes lingering on you.

“tea?” you offer, voice hoarse.

“water’s fine if you have any.”

you pour him a glass, setting it down in front of him before sitting across from him at your small table. the silence stretches between you both as you sit down in front of him at your table.

the weight of everything presses down on your chest.

“i was there, too.”

you freeze at his words.

jun-ho exhales, rubbing a hand over his jaw. 

“on the island. i followed gi-hun. i was looking for my missing brother.”

your stomach twists, you did not know this much information about junho.

“you know gi-hun?”

he nods. 

“yeah. he led me there without realizing it.” he hesitates, eyes locking onto yours. 

he didn’t speak for a moment as you looked at him with curiosity, is he okay? was he a player? why didn’t you see him? how didn’t he get caught? 

“i pretending to be a guard. the circle one that you saw that day in the dorms. later on I got shot in my shoulder, but i am okay.” 

junho reassures. yet, you are not reassured. 

“i was looking out for you, too.”

your breath shudders.

he leans forward slightly. 

“when i saw you get in that van, i—” he stops, jaw tightening. 

“i thought i lost you.”

something inside you cracks.

you don’t know when the tears start. one second, you’re staring at him, trying to hold it together, and the next, your vision blurs, hot tears spilling down your cheeks. jun-ho doesn’t say anything, just watches, just listens, as everything you’ve been holding in breaks.

“i didn’t sign up for that,” you choke out, voice shaking. 

“i thought— i thought it was just games. just money. i just wanted to be able to stop what i used to do.”

junho’s expression darkens, but he says nothing.

you shake your head, wiping at your face. 

“they killed them. all of them. and i– i just stood there, i just..”

you gasp, a sob wrenching from your throat before you can stop it.

jun-ho moves before you can register it. one second, you’re falling apart and the next, his arms are around you, pulling you close.

you freeze since his warmth seeps into you, his steady breathing grounding you. junho’s grip is firm, solid, real. this is the first time since sae-byeok’s death that you don’t feel alone.

you clutch the fabric of his shirt, your fingers curling tightly into the material as you let yourself feel. you cry for sae-byeok. for the people who didn’t make it. for the part of yourself that died on that island.

jun-ho holds you through all of it.

when your sobs quiet into shaky breaths, you whisper against his shoulder, “can you stay?”

he doesn’t hesitate.

“yeah,” he murmurs. “i’ll stay.”

he needs this just as much as you do.

when you finally pull back, your face is inches from his.

the officer’s hand lingers on your back, his breath warm against your cheek. junho’s eyes, dark, searching, soft, flicker down to your lips for only a second before meeting your gaze again.

your heart pounds, but this time, it’s not from fear.

the officer is now living with you, but he is different now.

something inside of him has shifted, cracked beyond repair.

after finding out that his own brother, the one he spent so long searching for, was the mastermind behind that place, he couldn’t bring himself to go back to his old life. to the force and to the law because what was the point?

this world was cruel but you already knew that.

he spends his days with you now. at first, it’s small things, late breakfasts, quiet conversations, accompanying each other to the store, sitting in the same room without speaking. suddenly, it becomes something more. something deeper because you grow close. too close.

neither of you say anything about it.

the tension between you simmers beneath the surface, heavy and waiting. it’s in the way jun-ho’s eyes linger on you when you’re not looking, in the way your fingers brush against his when you pass him something, in the way your body tenses whenever he gets too close, but you never pull away.

one night, it finally snaps.

you wake up crying.

your dreams, no, your memories, are suffocating. blood, screams, gunfire. your body shakes, your chest tightens, and you can’t breathe.

you force yourself out of bed, wiping your face as you shuffle toward the kitchen. maybe water will help. maybe the cold tile beneath your feet will ground you. however, as you step out into the hallway, you stop.

jun-ho stands in the hallway, shirt loose, hair messy, his face unreadable. it looks like he just step outside of his room as well.

he looks like he hasn’t slept.

“you okay?” his voice is rough, like he hasn’t spoken in hours.

you nod. a lie.

he exhales, rubbing a hand over his jaw. 

“couldn’t sleep.”

you swallow. 

“me neither.”

silence.

suddenly, it snaps, something snaps.

you don’t know who moves first, but suddenly, his lips are on yours.

it’s not soft. it’s not careful. it’s desperate.

junho’s hands grip your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you clutch onto him like he’s the only thing keeping you upright. the man’s mouth moves against yours with a hunger you’ve never felt before, his fingers digging into your skin like he’s afraid to let go.

this tension, this thing between you, it’s been there for so long, even before the games. before the world burned around you and now, it’s finally boiling over.

jun-ho backs you up, step by step, until your back hits the doorframe of your bedroom. junho’s breath is hot against your lips, his hands firm on your hips.

you don’t stop him because you don’t want to stop him.

junho’s lips find yours again, and this time, it’s slower, deeper, like he’s memorizing the way you taste. your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, feeling his abs as you pull him closer, and closer.

he groans softly against your mouth, and something about the sound sends a shiver down your spine.

you don’t even realize that your door opened until he’s guiding you backward, at least until your knees hit the bed.

your heart pounds, your breath shaky as his lips trail along your jaw, down to your neck, his hands never leaving your body.

you close your eyes, letting yourself drown in him, in this, in everything.

with junho, you realized this is where your nightmare ends. 

masterlist

pretty boy

jack champion headcannons <3

m! speaks: we need more jack champion fics.. where’s the love for my baby boy :((((

* .・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

posts you ALL the time like seriously this man cannot get enough of you

has to try every silly little tiktok trend on you ( even the filters )

“babe i promise this one is actually funny this time”

calls you baby (KMS)

takes you to all of his interviews

this man literally makes sure you bring snacks for him

“boys gotta eat” *shrugs*

PHYSICAL TOUCHHHHHHH

doesn’t matter where you are or who you are with, he always needs to be touching some part of your body

playing with your fingers while casually conversing with others

CLINNGGGGGYYYYYYYYY

refuses to take naps on the couch without you

when you finally agree to lay with him somehow he ends up knocking out on top of you

“jack i physically cannot breathe, get off”

“so you don’t love me anymore?”

brings you up ANYTIME ANYPLACE ( mainly interviews )

“who would you say is your go to person on set for advice?”

“if mason’s busy i’ll call my girlfriend until she answers. i could call her now if you want?”

follows you around like a damn puppy

he is a big simp for you and he knows it

HE HAS NO SHAME ABT IT

facetimes you everyyyyydayyyyy

“baby i miss you”

“jack i literally just left”

skincareeee queeeens

dedicated photo dumps of just you all over his feed

easily jealous.. if someone looks at you too long best believe he’s plotting

“i’ll kill him”

spam texts you while you’re asleep

jack 💗: wanna hear abt my day? i got to hang out with jenna and all of them today. it was sickkk

jack 💗: should i get pizza or tacos?

jack 💗: plot twist i got chic fil a

jack 💗: wyd rn????

jack 💗: y/nnnnnnnnnnn hellllooooooooooo

jack 💗: would you still date me if i was a worm?

y/n :)))) : jack it’s 1am

this man is sooo gooofy like cmon now

always gives you his hoodies

he loves when you wear his clothes

sends you every meme that pops on his fyp

he definitely has a playlist for you and every little date you’ve guys ever been on

will drag you to the gym with him just to keep him company

hugs hugs hugs hugs hugs hugsssss

his tall ass always leaning over you

flirting with you like there’s no tmr

dad jokes

always makes you laugh

loves your parents

he’s always offering to help your mom cook when he is over

calls trinity your guys adoptive daughter

always prefers being the little spoon

makes cringey couple tiktoks with you

EYE CONTACT ( mans can never not stare at you )

nose kisses

he literally adores you

* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

he’s so baby girl i love him so much ( prt 2???? )

might make a fic based on any of these ;) feel free to request in the comments or my ask box!!!! hope you guys enjoyed <3

safe and sound

“you'll be alright, no one can hurt you now.”

pairing: finnick odair x reader

summary: in which finnick shows up at your doorstep and vents his heart out.

warnings/contains: fluff, idk tbh lmk if i should add more

requested

a/n: i combined this with another request bc they were quite similar but tysm for the requests anons 🫶🏼 btw i didn’t really know how to end it im so sorryyy it’s bad. actually this entire one shot is bad 😭

As the sun set, you watched it from behind glass, captivated by the colours adorning the sky. It was something you rarely did, mostly because you had an insanely busy schedule as a former victor who lived in the capitol.

A knock on your door, however, ruined the one moment you had on your own. With a sigh, you walked towards the door, wondering who was visiting you at this hour. When you opened, you were surprised when you were met with Finnick. Yes, the Finnick Odair. The victor from district four who you had grown a fond friendship with. And had on whom you had a secret little crush on. “Hi, finn?” You questioned, rather than said, wondering why he was at your doorstep out of the blue.

Your relationship with Finnick was… difficult. The two of you had shared a kiss and admitted your feelings to each other before, but nothing really came from it. Mostly because you were both scared what would happen when the friendship you shared would blossom into something more. Besides, you hadn’t talked to him for quite some time.

And yet here he was standing silently in front of you. There was something about him that just didn’t sit right with you. His usual cocky and confident attitude, was replaced with an entirely different one. “Well, come in.” The door creaked when you opened it further and you cringed at the sound of it. He walked towards your living space, as if he had already been here countless of times, which he had of course.

It was like his second home before it got complicated between the two of you.

You closed the door behind you, before following him, a million questions filling your head. He didn’t utter a word, staring at the same sunset you had been watching only a minute ago. “Finnick, is everything alright?”

And it was as if that was his tipping point, because he suddenly stumbled into your arms. You were taken aback, that’s for sure, but you hugged him tight nevertheless. You cooed sweet nothings as tears left his eyes like a waterfall. While soothingly rubbing his back, you let him cry his eyes out, not caring that your sweater was now soaking wet from his tears.

“Finn, whatever it is, just let it out.” You said softly, waiting for him to have cried it all out. The man holding onto you for dear life felt ashamed for breaking down like this. But after what he had been through that night, he just couldn’t bottle it up anymore like he usually did. And when he realised it, the only person who he would want by his side was you.

“Sorry.” Finnick mumbled with his head rested on your shoulder. And if you weren’t so close to him, you probably wouldn’t have heard it. He pulled away, one of his hands lingering on your waist, as he wiped the tears on his cheeks with the other. He had been looking down the entire time, but when he finally looked up at you, you could see the pain and fatigue in his eyes. “Oh, finnick.” You put your hand on his cheek and he leaned into the comforting touch.

After he had calmed down, the two of you sat down on your couch. The same couch you were sat at when you finally admitted your feelings. But none of that was important at the moment. Finnick told you about everything he had been going through since he became a victor at the age of fourteen. The man in front of you told things you could never imagine anyone to go through. Your heart broke for Finnick the more he explained and you wished you had noticed this all sooner.

You drew him in for another hug, telling him you would do anything for him. You assured him, “We will get through this together and make sure nothing happens to you anymore. I’m here for you, Finn. And whatever you need, you can ask me.” Finnick nodded knowingly, wiping away the tears that had fallen down your face because of his story, “I know, love. You always are.”

“I know it’s hard, but whatever happens, you’re safe and sound. With me.” You grabbed ahold of his hands and pecked his knuckles lovingly, his heart skipping a beat. A small grateful smile made its way onto his face as he drew you in closer, wrapping his arms around you while you rested your head on his chest. It was as if a weight had fallen off of his shoulder and he let out a contented sigh.

He indeed felt safe and sound. With you.

a new chad meeks martin edit for y’all! watching scream this weekend, best believe i’m going to fold when i see him. thank the tiktok editors that are being held hostage in my basement. ✩⋆‧₊˚彡

i’m so sorry for not writing everyone’s requests yet 😞😞 i have been so busy with school and im in the middle of my test week rn but as soon as im done i will start writing all of your amazing requests 😚 also i am going to start writing for beta squad as soon as i finish the requests

can you write a chad x reader where they are best friends but both too afraid to tell each other they are in love w each other. but the reader gets attacked by ghostface (survives) and chad realizes he needs to tell her (or them) how he feels.

tysm for this request!! i hope you enjoy it and i hope this is what you had in mind 🫶🏼

here

tysm for tagging me this was so fun to do <33

tags: @callsignwidow @6hampion @wishuroses @notartemis777 @sturniolowrites @liluvtojineteyam

create your very own picrew barbie! 🫶🏻

please don't feel pressured to do this, loves!

tagging: @pureforestspirits @neytris @jakexneytiri @heirtothekingdom @iwantjaketosullyme @ncllcraines @eclipseatsea @reyalvr @ang3lik @moxtailz @stargirlrchive <3

he’s so me i can’t even

Thank you (very much)

Saw your requests were open and thought about a childhood friends to lovers with Yeon Sieun x reader? Slightly suggestive if ya want some spice, but it’s not necessary :D I’ll most likely come back and request for more weak hero content

Could I be 🐍 anon?

Thank you!

A/N: this has been sitting in the requests for a hot minute, so I'm happy to finally get it out.

Title: Assumptions

Pairings: Si-eun x Fem!Reader

Warnings: sexual content, slightly suggestive.

enjoy!

it all started when you were both two. He had just moved into the neighborhood, and you were an outgoing curious little girl. You had made your way over into their driveway somehow, where little si-eun stood, playing with some action figure. You had excitedly ran up, introducing yourself. He didn't say anything, but you kept trying and asked what he was playing with. He stared at you with a blank expression before handing the action figure to you. "Optimus prime. Keep it." You celebrated and excitedly hugged him before your parents had come out of their door, calling your name to come back inside.

"Thank you um—"

"—Si-eun"

"Thank you si-eun!" you exclaimed, planting a small kiss on his cheek before running back to your parents, who asked where you got the toy from. You cheerfully explained, si-eun was listening to the whole thing.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Growing up side by side in the same quiet neighborhood, you and Si-eun shared a bond that ran deeper than most childhood friendships. You both built forts out of cardboard boxes, raced bikes down the hill, and traded secrets under the old elm tree at the park. From the time he had moved into the neighborhood, you were inseparable—not out of romance, but simply because of the understanding you guys shared with each other in a way few others did. Si-eun was always a quiet kid, and you never pushed him to speak. Even with little words, you could read him like you wrote the book yourself, he was basically you as a boy. But of course being a boy and a girl who spent nearly every waking hour together made you the target of constant teasing.

Every other kid in the neighborhood seemed convinced you were boyfriend and girlfriend. No matter how many times you and Si-eun made gagging noises or scowled at the suggestion, the rumors never stopped. Even classmates at school chimed in, whispering and giggling whenever you two sat next to each other in class or showed up to events as a pair. It was irritating, and to the both of you, absolutely ridiculous. After all, you saw each other more like siblings than anything romantic.

What was worse were the jokes from your parents, who found endless amusement in imagining a future where the two childhood best friends would “realize their love” and live happily ever after. “Just wait,” Si-eun’s mother would say with a wink, “You’ll end up marrying each other someday.” Your mom would nod and add, “It’s always the childhood friend.” Each time, you two would roll your eyes, exchange looks of mutual horror, and vow—once again—that nothing like that would ever happen. Of course, life has a funny way of turning promises like that into something far more complicated.

Elementary school was the same as early childhood. You two would protect each other from bullies, play on the playground together, sit at lunch together, and walk home together. Kids would see you guys around and point, saying "Everyone says they are boyfriend and girlfriend." and each time you heard that, you'd cover si-eun's ears as you tell them off for spreading rumors. It never bothered him, though, nothing did.

Through middle school, your bond only deepened. you stuck together like glue, shielding each other from the older kids who tried to pick on either one of you, and offering quiet solidarity when either of you had a bad day. You still sat side by side at lunch, signed up for the same electives, and rode the same bus home, where you'd part ways at the driveways with a wave or a sarcastic remark. Of course dating never crossed into your lives—not because you weren’t curious, but because every crush ended up assuming you were already off the market. "Aren’t you with him?" or “Isn’t she your girlfriend?” were questions heard so often, you eventually stopped trying. It wasn’t worth the trouble. At least, not then.

By the time high school rolled around, you found yourselves in fewer classes together, schedules pulling each other in different academic directions. You still clung to the one constant you both had—lunch. It was a sacred part of the day, that small window of time where the chaos of high school could fade away, and you could just be yourselves.

As you both entered senior year, the connection evolved into something quieter but more intense. You skipped classes like a synchronized routine, sometimes ditching school altogether to explore the city or just sit around doing nothing. The friendship became a world of its own—too familiar to question, too easy to fall into. Both of your eighteenth birthdays rolled around, celebrated with family and each other. On weekends, you each rotated between your house and his, lounging around like it was second nature. The teasing never stopped, not from the parents or the few neighborhood kids who hadn’t moved away. But somewhere between all the jokes and assumptions, things began to shift. This time, neither of you was rolling your eyes.

Si-eun had always been reserved, almost unreadable to most people—but to him, you were an open book written in a language only he could understand. He trusted you with parts of himself he wouldn’t even acknowledge aloud. you were beautiful in a way that felt unreal—quiet, grounded, and gentle, the kind of person who he could sit in silence for hours with and you would still make him feel heard. To you, he was a rare kind of boy—sharp-witted, oddly thoughtful, and never once afraid to be silent. He made the world make sense. So when your sixteenth friendship anniversary landed on a weekend where his parents happened to be out of town, and you casually invited yourself over to spend the night, it didn’t feel strange.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"I'm so glad to finally get a turn eating all your food, my house is almost empty," you sighed as you flopped down onto his couch. The cushions sank beneath you, familiar and worn in from the years you'd spent hanging out here—watching movies, doing homework, or just sitting in comfortable silence. Si-eun cleared his throat from the kitchen, where he was rummaging through the fridge, the sound of bottles clinking and the hum of the appliance filling the space.

"You've eaten half my pantry," he called back. He returned with a couple of drinks and dropped onto the couch beside you, close enough that your knees brushed. The glow from the TV cast flickering light over the room, but neither of you were really paying attention to it. There was a charged stillness between you, the kind that had been building for weeks, maybe longer—something unspoken shifting in the way your glances lingered and how your laughter had gotten just a bit softer.

You looked over at him, your gaze meeting his, and for once, neither of you looked away. The air grew heavy. His hand rested near yours on the couch cushion, just barely brushing your fingers. "You know," you murmured, heart pounding a little faster, "this is the part where one of our parents would come in and say, 'See? Told you two you were meant for each other.'" Si-eun gave a soft, breathless laugh, but he didn’t move away. Instead, he leaned in slowly, eyes searching yours for hesitation. When your lips finally met, it was cautious at first—tentative, testing the weight of years of friendship and all the closeness that had come before. But once that boundary broke, everything rushed in at once. The kiss deepened, hungry and heated, hands moving with urgency, mouths meeting again and again like you'd been holding back forever. The room, the years, the world—all faded beneath the pull of each other.

You sat up, throwing your leg over his lap and straddling him. His arms hesitated, finding their way to the curve of your waist. You turned your head to the side, deepening the kiss. Your arms rested on his shoulders and your hands found their way into his hair, pulling softly. He barely had time to think before he was standing up, wrapping your legs around his waist and carrying you to his bedroom through the kiss.

You pulled away, falling back onto his mattress. He climbed on top of you, face digging into your neck as he left hickeys. He found your sensitive spot, and you sigh deep into his neck, hands finding their way into his hair once more.

"Are we gonna?—" He breathed out

"—If you talk I think I'll snap back into reality. just do it."

And so he does.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You lay there, heavy breaths and moving chests.The room was quiet now, save for the soft hum of the TV still playing in the background and the slow rhythm of your breaths. You lay beneath the blankets, the weight of what just happened settling around you like a thick, electric silence. Neither of you spoke at first—not out of discomfort, but out of awe, maybe disbelief, at how something that once seemed impossible now felt right.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” you said softly, turning your head to glance at him. Your voice wasn’t nervous or unsure—just honest.

Si-eun let out a sigh  low and breathy. “Yeah.” He looked at you then, serious for a moment. “I think....part of me’s been waiting for that for a long time.”

You blinked, surprised by the confession—but not in a bad way. It was like something inside you clicked into place. Having such an intimate moment with the only boy you could trust for the past sixteen years of your life made you feel as though it was destiny you had invited yourself over tonight. “So... does this mean that everyone was right?” you asked, half-teasing, half-afraid of the answer.

He smiled, that small, rare smile he only gave you when no one else was around. “I think so.”

You nodded slowly, heart thudding in a new kind of rhythm. “If that’s true, I’m okay with it. I think I want it to be true.”

Si-eun wrapped his arm around you, pulling you a little closer. “Then let’s stop pretending it’s not."

And just like that, years of denying, joking, and brushing off the idea dissolved into something simple and certain. For once, everyone else might have actually been right.

A/N: I'm really proud of this I hope you guys like it.