A New Chad Meeks Martin Edit For Y’all! Watching Scream This Weekend, Best Believe I’m Going To Fold

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

𓇼 invisible string ; lo'ak.

synopsis. a simple conversation makes a full one-eighty as lo'ak airs out his true feelings towards hometree and the clan.

info. angst. lo'ak sully x gn!omaticayan reader. 1,822 words.

warnings. misunderstanding trope! crying, a barely there description of a panic attack, a common neytiri W, stupid lo'ak... like so so so dumb. barely proof read this bro... ignore all the errors :P

"if you could go to any place, where would you be?" you ask softly, the wind carry your voice into lo'ak's pinched back ears.

"easy. anywhere but here," he says with a sigh. and as he lies on his back, lo'ak's eyes close with a huff puffing past his lips. before you could even utter another question of 'why?', he cuts you off with his own train of thought. "dad's always on my ass about something. if i had the chance, i would hop on my ikran and fly as far away as i could."

your brows furrow confusedly, an uneasy smile forcing it's way to your lips as you glance over at his figure, almost ticked-off with how calm his demeanor is whilst laying on the soft grass.

you hum quietly, attempting to sound like you're agreeing but failing miserably. but it's not like lo'ak noticed, no, he was too busy wallowing in his own self pity to hear such a tiny lilt to your voice. too busy to feel the uncomfortable shift within the air that consumes you both.

"so... there's nothing convincing you to stay?" you inquire, busying yourself by looking plucking at random patches of grass. the slight scoff that flutters past his lips is almost gut-wrenching, and you can feel the cracks grow in size as your heart breaks into a billion pieces.

slowly sitting up, he aimlessly glances around the foliage surrounding you both. bringing his hand up, his palm towards the sky as he blocks the sunlight from his eyes. a disgruntled noise vibrates against his lips as he acknowledges your question.

the next sentence that leaves his lips could only be described in one word; heartbreaking.

"when it comes to the hometree... the clan, no. there's absolutely nothing worth staying stuck here for."

you feel the sharp tip of the metaphorical arrow pierce it's way into your heart, the poor thing far from bits and pieces as his harsh words struck deep within your bones. the way your heart rattles in your ribcage is overwhelming to say the least, the continuous thumping of the muscle growing slower and slower as silence blankets itself over two. the sentence leaving his lips so nonchalantly that it almost makes you dizzy, nauseous even. you watch him shrug as he drops his hand into his lap, allowing the sun's rays to illuminate every single one of his features that you've grown to love.

lo'ak misses the way your features fall into one of pure sorrow, frown deepening, and lips twitching uncontrollably as flits of silence yet again fill the tense air.

"sorry for mentioning it, lo'ak."

your voice is low, barely above a whisper as you swallow a thick lump stuck in your throat. the action does little to soothe the scorching hot pain that his words had burnt into your brain. the way his name rumbles in your chest has him confused and left in a daze, unsure of how to respond. you rarely call him by his full name, the fact that you even said it makes his brain short circuit.

"y/n..." he calls out your name, fidgeting slightly as he begins to notice how tense you are. the boy sighs deeply upon seeing your head hung low, bead-clad braids falling off your shoulders and curtaining your face away from his worry filled eyes.

"no, it is fine. i will see you later," you mutter with a shake of your head. standing up from your spot, you don't bother dusting the specks of dirt on your legs, opting to scurry towards the village in a hurry.

lo'ak watches you slip away, physically and metaphorically. the way you try to get away from him etches itself into the deepest parts of his brain, guilt consuming him whole as he is forced to replay the pained look written across your face as you got up to leave.

-

you avoided lo'ak like the plague.

it was like the wind had swept you away, never to be seen again, and it pained him to his very core. the hurt he felt was something he could not shake, heart feeling heavy as days, weeks passed by without a single word from you.

he attempts to remind himself that he has other things to worry about, which means your lack of presence is nowhere near the top of his priority list. but that last glimpse of you before running off, your face twisted in pure misery... well it does nothing but fan the growing flames of desire to make things right.

the desire to hold you, to take back the stupidest thing he's ever said begins to outweigh his duties. and at one point, it fully does. but by the time he musters up the courage to talk to you, it had already been a month since you last spoke.

he tried his best to find you, whether at your hut, the place you hug out in, he even checks all your favorite spots, but you're nowhere to be seen. you are just — gone.

you were like that of a ghost, he even questioned if you were ever real, just a figment of his imagination. but alas, his anxieties are temporarily relieved as his parents and siblings begin questioning him of your sudden disappearance.

lo'ak can never give them a straight answer, tongue laying uncomfortably in his mouth as he swallows the truth of what he has done, how he ruined your friendship.

how he messed up the one good thing in his life.

his thoughts overwhelm quickly, suffocating him. visions of you crying, the angsty look gracing your beautiful features, it's all too much. his heart cannot take seeing you in pain and as he closes his eyes, he attempts to calm his fluttering heartbeat. focusing on breathing in and out, he almost misses the soft calling of his name.

"lo'ak, are you okay?" he hears his mother's voice call out, tone soft as silk as she saunters over to the boy. she sits upon the grassy floor, nimble fingers grazing his shoulders as a silent way to remind him that she is here for him.

"i messed up, ma. i really messed up," he chokes out, voice getting caught in his throat as he hangs his head low. neytiri's eyes widen at her son, she's never seeing him so vulnerable, but nonetheless scoots closer to him. she wraps her slim arms around his shoulders, wanting to protect her little boy from the harshness of the world as he falls apart in her arms.

she pursues her lips, trying to figure out what to say, but as his sobs grow in volume, she pushes away the fact that he does not need advice right now.

no, he just needs his mom.

so, she remains silent, arms engulfing him as he rests his head in the crook of her neck. he latches on tight as if he she would run away, his fingers leaving indents on her biceps as he wails. she shushes him, rubbing circles on his back soothingly as he lets all his bottled up emotions free and into the air that surrounds them both.

-

the sun is barely setting once neytiri gets lo'ak to calm down. her back pressed against a tree as he lays his head in her lap like he used to do when he was little. she hums his favorite lullaby, the same tune on his songchord to be exact. they both remain quiet as she redoes a couple of braids in her son's hair, fixing his flyaways as he eases into her gentle touch.

she doesn't want to force him to speak about the things that plague his mind, wanting for him to come to her when he's ready. so, they both focus on the soft gusts of wind that ripple through the tree leaves, the sweet whooshing sound like music to their ears.

"i think i'm ready," he states, not moving from his mother's lap. neytiri simply hums. "they had asked me if there was any place i wanted to go to, y'know if i had the chance," he begins.

"i-i basically told them that i would rather be anywhere but here, even if that meant being away from them..." he mutters, ashamed. neytiri's eyes soften upon seeing her son shrink into himself, but with a soft squeeze to his shoulder, she reminds him that there is no reason to hide how he truly feels, no need to mask his emotions when he's in her presence.

"i'm so stupid!" he cuts himself off, anger present within his voice as he gets up from his comfy position. he turns around to look at his mother, a sort of understanding gracing her features as she urges him to calm down.

she motions her hands downwards, a sort of up and down movement to emphasize her words, "mawey (calm), my son."

lo'ak nods, inhaling before asking, "what do i do, ma?" his eyes are puffy from crying, streaks of dry tears remaining on his cheeks as he fully sits in front of her. the older woman hums, lips formed into a straight line as she places her hands into his.

"ever since you two were little, y/n was the only child that was allowed to play with your toys." his brows furrow in confusion, head tilting sideways as he opens his mouth to question her words, but she wags her finger 'no' to stop him from doing so.

neytiri tries her best to point out the obvious, but knowing her son, she became all too familiar with having to take it step-by-step for him to understand the depth of an important situation, such as the one he is in now. it was like teaching a baby how to walk, she smirks at the thought as it reminds her of jake. the two were more alike than they let on.

"you care for them, deeply, that much is true. but are you willing to deny that there is not something more between you and them?" she asks, tone calm as to not scare him. lo'ak is taken aback, brows knitting in confusion as he trips over his words.

"mom, there's no way."

him... liking you? no, you're only his friend, nothing less, nothing more. he swallows the lump forming in his throat as he shies away from his her heavy gaze.

"let me put it this way, 'itan (son), they have always been there. you have grown up with them, you both know each other like the back of your hand. no matter how much time puts a wedge between your relationship, you cannot help but be reeled back into them." he squints his eyes, orbs swirling with realization as he begins to slot the pieces together. he urges her to finish, already knowing what she's going to say.

"lo'ak... you are in love with them."

⋆ ˚｡ ୨୧ reblogs / feedback are highly appreciated. thank you so much for reading. we hope you enjoy your stay at diwatopia !

★ diwata's thoughts . . . this,,,, kinda sucks,,, saurry idk if i'll make a pt 2, there probs will be one if this does well so manifesting that it does bc i'll make lo'ak pay lol 😜 n sorry the beginning does lowkey suck... like js talk it out?? bc ig that's the literal fucking meaning of misunderstanding 😐

© ilupearls 2023.

A Little Salt, A Lotta Flirt - Chunkz

Summary: You're a special guest in ChefAsylum where you first met Darkest, Harry, and Chunkz.

Pairing: Chunkz x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Masterlist

You smile nervously at the camera as you step into the Footasylum kitchen. Your apron is tied, your ingredients are prepped, and your confidence is hanging on by a single, overcooked spaghetti strand.

You glance to the left.

Harry Pinero. Suave, tall, and he looks like he knows where the camera is at all times.

To the right?

Darkest. Mischievous smile, already sipping juice like he knows he's about to roast you within an inch of your life.

And in the middle...

Chunkz

May God have mercy on your soul.

He's smiling, dimples on full display, eyes locked on you like you're the actual main course. You immediately forget how to stand. 

Do legs bend? 

Are knees supposed to do this? 

Is this blood rushing to your face? 

Or did you just catch fire from the way he looked at you?

"Hi" You said.

Hi??? 

That's all you got???

Not "Hope you're hungry" or "Let's cook up some chemistry"?? 

Nah, just hi????

He leans back in his seat, eyes not leaving you for a second.

"You're looking like a whole Michelin star already" Chunkz said, voice smoother than the butter they have in store

Instant combustion.

You laugh awkwardly, a weird wheeze-cough hybrid that should honestly disqualify you from public life.

The kitchen lights were a little too bright. The cameras a little too close. Your nerves? Absolutely fried. You adjusted your clothes again for the third time, fidgeting with the strings like it was gonna save you.

As the camera started rolling, you heard laughter, the easy kind, the kind you always wished you could blend into.

And then, you heard him.

Chunkz's laugh, the very same rich, effortless, warm laugh. Like it belonged somewhere safe. Somewhere soft.

You peeked over your shoulder and instantly caught his eye. He was already looking at you. 

Not in a polite way. Not in a "Oh cool, new person" way. In a slow head-to-toe, bite-the-bottom-lip, lean-back-in-his-chair-because-he's-enjoying-the-view kinda way.

You looked away first. Obviously. You weren't built to survive that eye contact because what the fuck was that seriously? Who holds that eye contact for long and look really nonchalant about it like it was something normal for him?

"Alright! Today's special chef" Harry announced, gesturing to you. 

"--is gonna be cooking for these three legends!" Harry added.

Harry Pinero clapped once followed by Darkest and Chunkz beside him, sarcastic and loud. 

"Hope you can cook, man. Otherwise, this is gonna be a hostile environment" Harry said.

"Don't watch him. Just make sure my plate's bigger than his" Darkest said as he smiled over his drink. 

And Chunkz?

Chunkz didn't say anything at first.

Just gave you that slow, lopsided grin.

"You ready for me, yeah?" Chunkz said, calmly.

You blinked, having a moment of malfunctioning.

For you?

FOR YOU???

"What? I mean not specifically you" You said, pretending to focus on the cutting board.

"Of course" Chunkz said, chuckled under his breath. 

You fucked up the general knowledge question but somehow got a decent ingredients and you got to work, pretending not to feel the heat of three sets of eyes following every move you made.

The first five minutes were manageable. Until the knife slipped and a tomato went flying across the counter. To be fair, the knife was horror.

You gasped. Harry leaned over to Darkest, stage-whispering loud enough for everyone to hear.

"That tomato just filed for early retirement" Harry said, looking offended like he was the tomato itself.

Darkest choked on his water and Chunkz was just laughing, forehead resting against his hand like he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Don't worry" Chunkz said, his voice way too soft for this chaotic environment. 

"Everyone needs a little warming up" Chunkz added.

And then, looking you dead in the eye.

"I'm patient. So, take your time, beautiful" Chunkz said.

"Yeah, lost your mind" Darkest said next to him as he laughed.

You nearly dropped the knife next.

You pretend to be unbothered. Cool. Chill. Unfazed but your hands are shaking like you're about to defuse a bomb instead of stirring curry.

"Why you holding the spoon like that? It's not a microphone" Darkest said as he clocked it immediately.

"They're singing for help" Harry said, without missing a beat. 

You try to flip them off with your eyes. Doesn't work.

"Don't worry, I got you. I'll be your sous chef... or your husband. Whichever works" Chunkz  said softly and grins. 

WHO ALLOWED HIM TO SAY THAT???

"Oh my god, he's actually moving mad" Harry said, gasping dramatically as he low-key smacked Darkest.

You dropped the spoon, It clangs like it's exposing you.

You are now operating on auto-pilot. You can feel him watching as you cook, which is fantastic because nothing says sexy like stress-sweating while chopping onions.

Then he appears next to you. Like... right next to you.

Did he teleport?? 

How did he get there so fast?? 

When did the laws of physics stop applying to him??

"Need a hand?" he asked, moving to your side without waiting for an answer. His shoulder brushed yours, just enough for you to feel the heat.

You tried to focus on the pan, you tried so hard.

Sir.

Sir, you might need a therapy.

"That smells nice" Chunkz murmurs, eyes flicking to your face.

"And the food's decent too" Chunkz added as he leaned down, pretending to inspect your work.

"Seasoning's good" Chunkz said lowly, so only you could hear.

"But you're looking better" Chunkz added.

You whipped your head around to glare at him, scandalized but he was already smirking, knowing exactly what he was doing.

HE NEEDS TO BE STOPPED.

YOU ARE BLUSHING SO HARD YOU MIGHT COOK YOURSELF.

Darkest caught it.

"God forbid you let them cook in peace, bruv" Darkest called out.

"Man's tryna be the side dish" Darkest added with a laugh.

"Don't worry about me, man" Chunkz said with a smug smile.

When you finally started putting the dish together. Slightly less clumsily because your inner monologue has officially left the building.

When the food was finally plated, you wiped your hands on your apron, heart hammering.

Eventually, food gets made. Somehow.

Plated, served, looking halfway edible.

You step back, breathing like you just ran a marathon.

This was it, judgement day.

Darkest took the first bite. Chewed thoughtfully.

"Okay... okay..." Darkest said, nodding slowly. 

"This is edible, I'm genuinely shocked" Darkest added.

"Don't even try it, this is nice" Harry said as he shoved him playfully. 

They argued for a bit, in the way guys do when they don't know how to give real compliments.

But Chunkz? Chunkz just watched you, swirling his fork lazily through his food without taking a bite yet.

You raised an eyebrow.

"You scared?" You teased, finally feeling a little bit brave.

Chunkz grinned.

"Nah" Chunkz said, leaning forward on his elbows, gaze heavy. 

"Just savoring the view before I tuck in" Chunkz added.

You blinked.

"Oh no, get him a leash" Darkest said as he coughed violently into his napkin. 

"Signing his life away, mad" Harry said as he just shook his head, pretending to fill out imaginary marriage papers on his plate. 

Chunkz just stared at you, fork swirling dramatically through the rice.

"I haven't even tried it yet" Chunkz said.

"I'm still full from watching you all day" Chunkz added.

EXCUSE. ME.

You choked on air. 

"Someone take his mic, man" Darkest mutters 

"Man's flirting like he's trying to get tax benefits" Harry said as he grabs his phone like he's live-tweeting. 

Chunkz shrugs, still looking at you.

"I'm just saying" Chunkz said, softer now. 

"You walk into the kitchen looking like that, of course I'm hungry" Chunkz added.

Your brain went. blown fuse. rebooting. system not found.

But for once, they didn't shout. They didn't ruin it. They just let you two... sit there. Eyes locked. Playing with fire.

Chunkz finally lifted his fork, took a bite and let out a noise that made your entire soul combust.

"Yeah" Chunkz said, eyes twinkling. 

"You're dangerous" Chunkz added. 

After filming wrapped and the cameras stopped rolling. The crew packed up. You're pretending to clean just to delay leaving. Harry and Darkest wandered off somewhere, giving you a suspicious amount of space.

You lingered by the counter, pretending to tidy up. Chunkz came up behind you, close enough to feel the warmth of his body but not quite touching but it felt like personal space is now a myth

"You did good" Chunkz said.

"Real good, impressed me" Chunkz added.

"Thanks, you weren't too bad at... distracting me" You said with a smile, looking down.

"Let me make it up to you then" Chunkz said as he let out a small smile.

"You free after this?" Chunkz asked casually, almost too casual.

"Depends, why?" You said as you glanced over your shoulder, heart stuttering.

"Thinking maybe... we skip the cameras next time. You cook for me proper, no distractions" Chunkz said as he shrugged, smiling like he already knew the answer.

You tried to play it cool. Tried so hard but you turned too fast and bumped into him.

And he didn't move back. He just stood there. Close enough that you could smell the faint trace of his cologne, something fresh and warm and way too unfair.

"You down?" Chunkz asked again, voice low.

"Depends" You said, pretending to think. 

"You still gonna flirt with me the whole time?" You asked with a genuine smile.

"Babe, if you think this was flirting.." Chunkz said, stepping closer, voice dropping

"Wait until there's no cameras" Chunkz said as his grin returned, wider this time.

You swallowed hard. 

 He pulled out his phone, tapping it against your arm. 

"Put your number in, I'll send you a proper invite. Dress code.. cute aprons only" Chunkz said.

 You laughed, taking the phone. Chunkz grinned, slow and real.

"You bringing the same game you brought today?" You asked teasingly.

"Better" Chunkz said. 

"Tonight, I'm bringing dessert too" Chunkz added pointing to himself with a smirk.

You were seconds away from saying something stupid like "YES I WILL BEAR YOUR CHILDREN" instead you blacked out. Emotionally. Spiritually. Thermally.

You nodded, weakly. Because speech has abandoned you.

You knew exactly what he meant and when he brushed his fingers lightly against yours like casual and like it didn't mean anything, you knew you were completely finished.

- end -

Hello lovelies!!! Actually? No notes today, just the same reminder.

I hope y'all have an amazing day, absolute love and guidance.

As I said everytime, send in some request and ideas!!

i am working on a request right now, but after that i wanted to write something based on the song gold rush by taylor swift. however i really don’t know who i should do, i could do neteyam sully or chad meeks martin. or i could do both (separate fics obv) idk i feel like it fits both of them, what do y’all think?

if you have any suggestions, feel free to comment <3

okay y’all i rewatched the hunger games in like a really long time and my feelings for both peeta and finnick have resurfaced (just like i do on here every few months)

but i suddenly got sm motivation to write for them so my reqs are open for these two!!

i mean just look at them 🙏🙏

*ೃ࿐TO FAULT A NET

[ ACT III: CURIOSITY AND THE CAT ]

spider-man! ethan landry x black cat! reader

#SYNOPSIS— having one (1) friend is making you a bit too soft to your liking, your dad is dead and you make too many jokes about it, and you need a new suture kit.

#CONTAINS— enemies to lovers, slowburn, antihero&vigilante reader, familial issues, implication of ptsd, gore, blood, murder, death, sexual/suggestive content (in other parts), reader is overly flirtatious

#AUTHORSNOTE— tumblr pls let me write on my phone and still be able to see the words i type thank you xx

ACT I, ACT II, ACT II

the doors to the police department flew open, nearly hitting some people who were exiting. ethan, eyes heavy with bags and hair tousled from being stuck in the mask all night, pushed past people who were waiting dutifully in front of the receptionists' desk, ignoring their protests and harsh exclaims.

the policeman sitting behind the desk didn't even seem fazed, only looking up at ethan boredly as he drawled, "sir, you're supposed to wait in line—"

"where's detective bailey?" ethan asked, eyes cold as he raised his head to peer deeper into the department. when no response was given quickly, he slammed his fist into the table. "where is he?!"

"ethan!" his head snapped towards his father's voice, his eyes welling in tears as he tried (and failed) to keep himself together. but seeing his father with no evident emotion on his face besides his red eyes, completely unlike how he was when richie died, ethan couldn't do it.

he walked up to his father, trying to push past him to make his way deeper into the department. "take me to where i can see her," he sniffed, shoving his father's hands away as he tried to stop him. "dad, i need to see her," he begged, shoving his father, hard, away from him. so hard, that he nearly was knocked off his feet, his face dropping at the sudden strength his youngest child exhibited.

but ethan was too focused on trying to find out where his sister's body was being kept to care.

two policemen came between him and the hallway deeper into the department, their hands hovering over their guns while another policeman grabbed ethan's arm, urging him to leave. he was crying now, just a mess of tears and healing bruises in the police department, but they didn't care.

"she's evidence, ethan. and they took me off the case—"

"she's my sister," he seethed, tears freely flowing down his face as he looked at his father in disbelief. nothing. ethan saw nothing in his face. "don't call her evidence. i need to see her," his voice cracked as he shoved himself away from the other policeman, reaching for his dad like he always did as a child. reaching for some reaction, something, anything, even the bare minimum, only to be shoved away and ignored. and this was no different, because even as he grabbed his arm and begged him to let him see his sister, to let him talk to her, to let him say goodbye, there was nothing.

"dad," ethan cried, reaching for his hand, only for him to move it away quickly. "dad, say something. please," he sniffed harshly, "i wasn't there—"

"and why weren't you?" the detective snapped, and ethan's face fell. "why weren't you there, ethan? what was so important that you weren't there?" his words became more accusatory by the second, and it suddenly felt like he was a child again, being yelled at for something that wasn't entirely his fault. "tell me!"

"i," ethan tried to force out, but the lump in his throat was too large. why wasn't he there? why didn't he make it on time? his dad was right. he had all the power in the world to be there in time, and yet he wasn't. "dad, please," he whispered, but his father was already walking away from him.

"you'll see her soon. but not now." he couldn't even look at him as he walked away, leaving his youngest standing alone in a waiting room full of people, tears dripping onto the tile.

"ethan?"

his head turned to the entrance, finding tara, sam, and chad all standing at the doorway. he couldn't even say a single word out, tears welling up in his eyes again as he tried to force out a sentence, a word, anything, but to no avail.

without another word, tara walked up to him and pulled him into a hug. ethan couldn't even bring himself to sob, only allowing the tears to fall freely as he felt the others' arms wrap around him. since then, he didn't utter a word. usually he had a hard time not speaking, but there was so much circling his head that he felt like he could say anything. he didn't have the energy to, so he sat in silence in the waiting room, waiting for the others to be done with their accounts.

tara was the first to come back. she seemed as shaken up as he was, her shaking hands shoved in her pockets as she walked to stand in front of ethan. she didn't say anything at first, as though she had been pondering her words before she spoke. "my friend drove us here. figured it'd be safer, even though the others don't really trust her."

ethan didn't look up, his eyes dead set on his lap. his hands were moving over each other, one over the other as though he was massaging them angrily. the massaging turned to picking at his hangnails for a moment, before returning to massaging. he was anxious; too many emotions and too much happening all at once.

it was a habit that had been going on for a long time, even when he was a kid. he was an anxious child; bullied for speaking too much and made fun of for being dorky, completely unlike his brother who was charming enough that people had actually liked him. but with his new powers that heightened his senses.. ethan found that when he was anxious, everything felt like overload. it all felt like too much.

"i need air," he murmured, standing up abruptly and moving past tara, ignoring her protests of, 'but it isn't safe!'

the cold night air hit his face, bringing a chill throughout his body that he would've found uncomfortable if he wasn't so desperate to be outside. ethan breathed in the air and let it freshen up his insides, trying to focus on the feeling of air expanding his lungs rather than the fact that his father blamed him for his sister's death.

the hairs on his neck stood up, making him immediately clench his fists and look around, walking a thin line between anger and fear as he looked for what had set off his senses in such a way.

you had been leaning against the side of the police department, obviously out of your element and only mildly perturbed by it. you didn't expect to settle into bed and have tara call you moments later, talking about the attack you had been in as well and how she'd rather get a ride from you rather than take the subway or walk. her reasoning made sense, but you didn't understand why she called you all of people. but sleep had been getting harder for you as the days passed, so you reluctantly agreed to bring her and her friend group to the department.

so you tried to seem as though you weren't uncomfortable loitering around the one place you had been avoiding for the majority of your life. but as you stared at the brunette who had been panicking not even a minute before he had seen you, you realized that maybe things weren't as bad for you as it was for him.

his eyes were red and his hands were repeatedly clenching and unclenching at his sides tightly. so tight, that you could see his knuckles pale despite the lack of light. he was looking at you, you realized, his huge puppy dog eyes glassy with tears and his brows furrowed as he raised a hand and quickly wiped away his tears.

you didn't say a word (you didn't even know him, what could have you said?), choosing to only tilt your head as you peered at his face.

he felt like you were studying him. taking in his features like a painting you'd stare at in a museum, studying the red of his eyes and the drip of his tears, the light dapple of freckles that had been fading due to the oncoming winter. he found himself swallowing down his need to cry so that he could force out a small, "what?" that sounded a lot less intimidating than he wanted it to sound.

"nothing," you said, and he was surprised to hear that your voice was so smooth. you were still looking at him though, probably coming up with your own judgement of him just by looking at his messed up state. you weren't, though— you were just trying to figure out whether you should show some simple human concern for once in your life.

but was some stranger worth it? in any other circumstance, the answer would’ve been simple, but there was something so familiar about the boy that it was

"you have a staring problem," ethan said defensively, facing away from you as he stared into the street.

"better than whatever's going on with you right now." the words fell from your mouth before you could stop them, the brutal honesty in that sentence taking even you aback by them. but they were out now, and you weren't the type to apologize for stuff you said.

you weren't the type. but as you stared holes into the back of his head, having a moral battle over some dude, you found yourself saying a quick, "sorry," that made you feel like you were suddenly naked out in the streets of new york.

“it’s fine. you’re probably right, anyways.” he sniffled, wiping the last bit of tears from his eyes. “i bet you’re having a hell of a better time than i am.”

you took in his words as you shoved yourself off the side of the building, walking ahead of you so that you stood horizontally from him. there was a distance between you both as you stood there, staring at the street. the silence wasn’t uncomfortable by any means, but the tension was making the air thick; the both of you were waiting for one of you to talk.

"my.. friend got attacked." this time you could feel his eyes on you, boring holes into your side profile as you avoided his gaze. "i had to pick her and her friends up. so, yeah, you're right," you sighed, and your breath came out in white steam, "my situation is probably better. doesn't mean i'm having a good time, though."

“there you are.”

you shut your mouth again at the sound of chad’s voice, turning to the others as they came exiting the station. you watched as chad looked at ethan concernedly, your eyebrows raising when you realized; he was one of tara's friends. that's why he looked so familiar.

you had never stayed around to see them for more than a few seconds. they were tara;s friends, not yours, and to simply linger as thy approached her after her singular lecture with you was far too weird for you. so you often kept your distance, choosing to walk away before she had the chance to introduce you, turning your back before they could ask you what your name was. having one person you considered a friend was dangerous enough in your line of work.

"you already met y/n," sam said to him, looking towards you with a tight lipped smile. "tara called her to drive us after—"

"after the attack, yeah," he was still looking at you with those doe eyes of his, taking in your seemingly nonchalant front. he wasn't blind to the feeling of familiarity he got when he saw you, but knowing now that you were one of tara's friends made sense. you were the girl they always saw walking out of psych lecture with her. "i'm ethan," he said, forcing a toothless smile.

"y/n." you nodded at him in acknowledgement before turning to the rest of the group. "where am i taking you guys?" you asked, starting to walk to your car, which was parked down the street.

"blackmore dorms," chad said, making you nod. "since the apartment is a no-go.. they can probably sleep in our dorm for a little bit, if that's okay," he glanced at ethan, who only nodded. "i'll bunk with ethan tonight, you two can sleep in my room," he said to tara and sam, who only nodded. both of them looked too beat up to even try and protest.

you walked up to your car— a black porsche carrera that your father had stolen before you were even born —unlocking it wordlessly.

"this is your car?" ethan couldn't help but ask, eyebrows raising at the sight of it. it was practically new despite its age, and the fact that you were a college student who casually owned a porsche was beyond him.

"that's what i said," chad said with a small chuckle, "what do your parents do again, y/n?"

"my dad's rotting dead 6 feet below," you responded dryly, unlocking the car for the rest of them and not even bothering to look at their reactions. when no laughs followed except for tara's amused snort, (tough crowd, you assumed), you peered at them with a cocked brow. "well? are we leaving?"

"right," chad mumbled, climbing into the backseat next to tara and sam while ethan took the passenger seat.

the ride to blackmore was quiet, the most of you far too focused on just getting home and sleeping. ethan's head rested on the window of your car, his eyes fluttering closed every once in a while as he struggled to stay awake. he was exhausted, having barely slept a wink between patrolling, school, and fighting off serial killers. his mind was far too focused on getting revenge on whoever killed his sister, but as he listened to the smooth hum of the car and the soft music that played through your radio, he found himself drifting off.

"did you talk to him for a little?" sam asked you from the backseat, and you nodded, your eyes still set on the road.

"yeah. granted, i didn't do much comforting. it's not really my forte, i guess." you sighed. "he seemed like in pretty bad shape."

"it was his sister," tara said softly, looking at ethan's sleeping face with empathy. "quinn. she didn't make it."

the rest of the ride was in silence.

he was jolted awake when his senses went off, sending that jolt of energy through his body and forcing his hand to grab your wrist before it could touch him. it looked like you were just trying to shake him awake, but as his hand wrapped around his wrist, you tore your hand away (with surprising strength) from his grasp.

"shit," you breathed, sending him a look as you tried to process what just happened. "your reflexes are crazy."

"sorry," ethan breathed, eyes traveling down to where your hands were, your other hand massaging your wrist as you stared at him. "i didn't bruise you, did i?"

"not in the way that i usually like," you grumbled, making a dusting of red appear over his cheeks. "it's fine, really. you're on edge."

"still," he mumbled, warily looking at your wrist. there wasn't a bruise forming, thankfully, but ethan often times found himself cautious of his own strength. he didn't want to accidentally hurt you just because he was anxious. "'m sorry anyways."

"it's okay. really."

a beat. "where did the others go?"

"they went ahead. tara 'n sam were tired so chad offered to bring them to your dorm while i woke you up." you shrugged, reclining your seat a bit as you unbuckled your seatbelt. your eyes drifted towards ethan, who was still sitting with his seatbelt, eyes staring holes into his lap. he seemed so far away, almost unreachable. "you don't have to go now," you found yourself saying, "take your time."

jesus, what was happening to you? first you get out of bed for a friend, now you found yourself telling some stranger to take their time with getting out of your car. you were losing minutes of sleep— you could be with your cats, and yet you were sitting in silence next to a boy you only knew the name of. the silence that should've felt uncomfortable simply.. didn't. the silence was comfortable; just two strangers sitting quietly alone in a car.

"okay," he glanced at you with a forced smile. "let's go."

you locked your car behind you as you walked next to ethan, digging your hands into the pockets of your pajamas. he seemed to be more tired than distressed as he trudged next to you, arms crossed over his chest. the night was cold and far more eerie; being attacked in the past hours would do that to you.

"do you live on campus?" ethan asked. he usually hated small talk, as he was one to never shut up to other people unless they were complete strangers. but he was silently thankful that you had been patient with him through the night, even letting him have a bit of time before he exited the car. he wasn't sure why he wanted to ask you questions.

maybe he was curious about you. maybe he wanted to know you.

"no," you replied smoothly, eyes set on the pavement ahead of you. "i have my own place."

"rich family?"

"yeah, their life insurance money was great," you lied in a monotone voice, eyebrows raising in surprise when you heard him stifle a chuckle. "i'm guessing you feeling a little better than before."

"arguably worse, actually," ethan said matter-of-factly, making you hum in response. "i think i'm just too tired to fully feel everything, y'know?"

"makes sense," you said, walking up to the entrance door and opening it with your card. "that's why we gotta get you into your dorm."

"but what about you?" you raised a brow at him as you shut the door behind you. ethan's brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of what he just said, having just blurted it out without another thought. "who'll bring you home?"

you blinked. "my car?" you couldn't decipher that look on his face, as though he was mentally turning over a plan around and around. for someone who seemed to always have something to say, he was suddenly rendered quiet. "are you worried about me?" your tone was teasing, but you were genuinely serious as you asked.

"i'm jus' worried about your safety, that's all!" his eyes widened in slight fear when your arms crossed over your chest, your eyes becoming more unsure by the second. "i mean, you can probably handle it on your own—"

"i can handle it on my own."

"but it's a murderer!" ethan exclaimed as he began to lead you to his dorm room. "you live alone, and no one watches over you— this sounds really bad and i'm sorry —but i don't know if you've watched horror movies, but that's basically how every single one starts!" a pause. "not that i'm saying you can't handle your own or anything!"

"may i remind you that you don't actually know me. we aren't friends." you said dryly, but even that didn't change his mind. you came to the conclusion then that he was far too stubborn for his own good. anxiety filled, almost too talkative, and closed off emotionally, but he was stubborn.

"that doesn't matter," ethan said with a shake of his head. he stopped in front of his dorm room door, looking at you with a worry ridden face. "do you," he swallowed thickly, "want to come in?"

"you already know the answer to that, eth."

"i know, but—" he looked at the warning look you had on your face. “fine. it was worth a shot." he stepped into his doorway, turning around to take the door. "good night, y/n."

"good night, ethan."

".. i went through their financial records dozens of times and this was not in any of them, it doesn't make sense," agent kirby grumbled, looking up warily at the fire escapes that hung over head. the alleyway was tucked away pretty well— you had only used it a few times when getting away, primarily because most of the police didn't even know the theatre nearby it existed.

"maybe you're just not that good at your job," you said under your breath.

"who brought little miss sunshine along?" kirby asked, sending you a warning look. you only gave her a sarcastic smile in response.

"i did," tara said as she walked next to sam. "she helped us last night."

that was an understatement. you consciously rubbed the bandage on your neck, which you had hidden under your jacket. you didn't want them thinking that you had gotten it because you had attacked them.

you had woken up to a text from tara asking if you wanted to come along and investigate. she was under the assumption that you wanted nothing to do with any of the murders, but you saw her invitation as an in. it'd allow you to be able to investigate from the inside, and truthfully, your curiosity was getting the best of you. you wanted to know who was behind everything.

“i told you that you didn’t have to come,” tara said pointedly, but you only shrugged in response, peering up at the spray painted killer on the brick wall.

“what else am i supposed to do nowadays?” you sighed, "helping you avoid murder feels just like another friday at this point." tara scoffed at your words, which made a downward smile appear on your face.

gale swiped her card down at the entrance way and opened it, allowing everyone to pile in. it was pitch black inside, lest and you found yourself gripping your bag tighter to your body, suddenly aware of the knife that was hidden inside of it.

if any one from the group saw it, they'd surely think that you were the murderer. if only they knew that you just liked being prepared.

"what is this place?" kirby asked, hand hovering over her gun as she looked around the dimly lit area.

"a movie theatre," you murmured, walking away from the group to explore further, until gale turned on the energy.

"how'd you know that?" mindy asked you cautiously, eyes furrowed as she looked you. of the entire group, she was the most distrustful of you (for good reason, honestly).

"new york born and raised," you responded with a shrug, "besides; my dad showed me once."

mindy clicked her tongue. "that's only mildly suspicious."

"can't even deny that," you muttered.

"but this place isn't just a movie theatre." gale weathers (who you had only ever seen from afar, as she was usually the one reporting all your burglaries) nodded over to the official entrance to the theatre, where some gears were turning as a run-down curtain was raised. "it's also a shrine."

you swallowed thickly as you entered, eyes widening at the sheer amount of all the souvenirs inside the rundown place. what once used to be a beautiful theatre was replaced by mannequins of outfits worn during the stab killings and glass cases full of what police would call evidence. knives of different variety, all still bloodied by their last victims, were posed proudly within the glass cases right next to sketches showing how they were used. drawings upon drawings of the survivors and legacy characters of the stab franchise was beside almost every item, and based off of the style, they were all from one person.

"they've got the whole god damn franchise," mindy said in shock, peering into one of the glass cases. her face fell when she saw the shirt on display, calling out, "chad," over her shoulder. as her twin walked up to her, she looked back at the black shirt. "this is uncle randy's," she breathed. "they've got everything."

you looked into one of the glass cases full of drawings of the original killers and original victims. they were all drawn with a meticulous hand; the artist was obsessed with them enough to be able to draw them repeatedly over and over. they studied their faces, from how they looked like when they were terrified all the way until their last breath.

"the same artist," you breathed, unaware that ethan had walked up next to you and looked into the same case.

"just one person." he seemed to be in deep thought, his brows furrowed as he stared at the artwork. "do you think one person's behind this?"

"god, no," you shook your head, "but i do think one person is more obsessed than the other. or at least, someone was." you glanced at him from the corner of your eye, watching as his tongue poked at his cheek as he read all the pieces of art.

you saw spider-man doing that once. you shook the thought out of your head as you focused your attention back on the evidence; you were sure that the masked hero would love to hear about this.

but as you stood next to the boy who was studying the artwork intently, a question popped into your head.

"so why are you here?" you asked him casually, crossing your arms over your chest. he turned to you, raising a brow at your sudden question.

ethan walked closer to you, tilting his head to the side as he looked at you suspiciously. "i could ask you the same thing."

"actually, tara—"

"it was so that we could keep an eye on you," chad interrupted, making the both of you snap your heads towards him. he managed a thin lipped smile, putting an arm onto one of the cases. "both of you."

mindy pointed two eyes at her eyes before pointing them at the both of you, her face nothing short of serious. if you weren't being suspected, you would've laughed.

"the killer must've found this place before he murdered jason and greg," gale explained, "and then he.. took the masks off the mannequins. all nine, from stuart and billie to amber and richie."

ethan swallowed thickly at the sound of his brother's name, turning away from the others as he tried to focus on something else. he could feel his father's eyes burn into the back of his skull. how convenient was it that he (and later, his family) moved to an entirely new state just to forget about his brother, only for it to bite him in the ass once he got here. he barely talked about his relation to his father to the others, much less the fact that they were all related to the killer who tried to kill them only a year prior. quinn and his father wanted to move on from richie too. at least, that was what they had told ethan.

"so somebody killed these chuckle fucks and took over?" chad asked, making you roll your eyes at the words he used.

"someone who believes that sam masterminded woodsboro," gal said with a nod.

"if this were a normal stab movie," mindy began, looking at all the cloaks that were left with no mask, "this would be the killer's lair."

"which means that this isn't a normal stab movie," you said with a sigh, "great."

tara's face was unreadable as she stared at the cloak labeled 'billy.' shaking her head, she turned around and left the theater without another word, sam following close behind her.

you sat alone at the edge of the stage, tapping your fingers on the wood as you let everyone figure out what the next move was. the sound of heavy footsteps made you look up, eyes narrowing when you saw detective bailey not too far from you, turning his head away from your vicinity. you couldn't tell whether he was staring at you or not, but there was an unsettling feeling in your chest that gave you enough of an answer.

you couldn't trust anyone.

they had dropped you off before they went on to their new plan. you claimed you had a lecture; and you technically did, but you never went to your lectures most of the time.

you gave them a fake address before walking home yourself. you didn't trust any of them— to casually give them your address was like a death wish. you knew better.

the black mask fit comfortably over your face as you pulled it over. while the others had their own plan, you had your own; you'd do some patrolling (jesus, who were you, spider-man?) and watch over them from afar. you were shoving a gun into your side before you heard someone knock on your bedroom window. immediately, you took out your gun and pointed it at the glass.

it was him. dressed in his suit as per usual, looking at you upside down. his mask was on half of his face, and he managed a toothy smile that made you roll your eyes in annoyance. shoving your gun back into your side pocket, you walked over to open the window for the hero.

"what did i say about friendly visits, spider?" you asked skeptically, moving back to your desk to get your items in place. his feet hit your hardwood floor gently as he swung into your home, shutting the window behind him.

"this isn't technically a visit," he said with a shrug, coming up next to you. he watched you put on your gloves with interest. "a little birdy told me that the stab survivors needed our help."

"and which little birdy is that?" you asked, not even looking up at him. you were too busy making sure every claw was working well, but you could feel him standing next to you. his back was to the edge of the table as he placed his weight comfortably on it. his hands were holding the edge of it as he talked freely with his mask pulled up half way.

"i just used my radio and asked them politely—"

".. you asked the police if you could help?"

"i asked detective kirby if i could help," he corrected, obviously exasperated by your surprise. "i needed an in, so i asked and she told me to be on standby. we'll just be listening to them on this," he pulled out a burner phone, setting it down on your table, "and they'll tell us where some action is happening."

"some action," you scoffed at his words, "that's one way to put it."

"how else am i supposed to put it? anyways, i decided to come here and politely invite you to join me, kitty." spider-man said with a tight-lipped smile. but as his eyes looked you up and down, realizing you were already fully ready, his smile faltered. "did you have your own plan?" he asked you curiously.

"i did." you said pointedly, unsheathing your claws before retracting them again. "i wanted to watch over them. lawfully stalk them to make sure they're still breathing or whatever." there was an odd silence that hung in the air as you worked diligently on your claws. "you seem to be in a better mood than yesterday," you commented, glancing at him from your peripherals before focusing back on your weapons. "are you really feeling that way, spider?"

spider-man cleared his throat at that. truthfully, ethan was masking everything again. he wanted to feel like himself, to be able to freely joke and banter with others how he used to, but everything seemed so forced now. all he felt, all he really felt was anger. he wanted to get revenge, and for once in his life, he was willing to stoop as low as richie and kill for what he believed in.

he hated that you saw right through his act. it was as though you had ignored every forced smile he flashed, ignored how he was desperately trying to feel like himself again, and ignored his light hearted facade.

you knew he was lying to you.

ethan stayed quiet. you knew what that silence meant.

"thought so," you murmured. you looked down at the burner phone, the black screen reflecting your own face back to you. "can i ask how you knew her?" you asked him, your curiosity getting the better of you.

"who?"

"quinn." you looked up at him. "there was only one person killed in that attack. quinn bailey, the detective's daughter." his jaw clenched when he heard her name come out of your mouth, his adams apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly.

"just a friend i knew," ethan said, the lie coming out like a taboo secret. to refer to his own sister as just a friend pained him. "i was close to her. incredibly close to her and i wasn't there in time to save her. i couldn't get there in time." he seemed to be millions of miles away as he talked, his eyes set on the floor.

you stayed silent for once, letting the silence surround the both of you. he didn't continue, seemingly too deep in his head to say more about the subject, and you understood that. you knew how that felt, to be physically in one place and mentally somewhere else. "if you're blaming yourself, you're a lot stupider than i thought. none of it is your fault."

you were so nonchalant, as though your words were factual. you never truly lied unless it was for your own gain, and that alone made you distrustful, but as you casually stated his innocence in the whole scheme of things, ethan found himself looking at you with hopeful eyes. he believed you, and whether that was dangerous of not, he wasn't sure.

"don't even say anything, it'll ruin the moment," you added dryly, sending him a warning look.

the burner phone began to ring, making the hero immediately click answer (crazy reflexes). kirby's panicked voice rang through the speaker. "gale weathers' house! upper west side—"

"west 96th," you interrupted, already opening the window.

spider-man blinked as he quickly hung up, already crawling out the window. he pulled his mask over the rest of his face. "how did you know that?" he offered a hand out to you,

"i was thinking of stealing her shit before all this," you grumbled, taking his hand. he pulled you close to him, his hand finding your waist as your arms wrapped around his neck.

"typical." he shot another web up, and you tried not to scream as you were suddenly brought up into the sky, the wind whipping in your face as he began to make his way to the upper west side.

the sun had set significantly by the time you made it, your leg coming up to kick through one of the bedroom windows. spider-man came in right after you, barely making a sound as he listened for any sounds. it was so quiet. even as you stepped towards the ajar door of the bedroom, not a single sound was heard.

you crept out into the hallway, hand grabbing your gun and raising it. spiderman crawled above you as you walked slowly down the hallway, catching a glimpse of blue as you did. looking up at the hero, you nodded in the direction of where you had seen it. he nodded in response, crawling ahead quietly.

gale had seen him as he crawled up the side of her wall, his finger coming up to his mask in a 'shh' motion. she nodded, the phone still up against her ear as she spoke, "the brains and the sex appeal," she responded, turning around to try and find the killer. but all she saw was her dead boyfriend on the ground of her living room, the killer nowhere to be seen. but then she saw you, gun in hand as you pointed it around you, your eyes looking into her's and practically begging her to not say a word.

you heard the muffled talking of the killer through the phone, your gun pointed opposite of where gale had her's pointed.

"can you hold, please?" gale asked, and you raised your eyebrows, turning to her in shock. but she quickly redialed the number, making a loud ringing sound appear from the closet.

you shot it. once. twice. five times, walking closer with each step.

ethan felt that familiar chill run through his body, his eyes widening as he yelled, "watch out!"

the doors flew open as ghostface jumped through, their knife nearly piercing your shoulder as they did. you jumped back before they could reach you, shooting your gun at them and groaning when it didn't stop them. "gale, get back!" you yelled over your shoulder, watching as spider-man swung down to kick them away from you.

ghostface quickly got up as spider-man shot his webs at them, their dodges quick as they tried to lunge at him with their knife.

but as they raised it up to throw it at the hero, you shot their arm, making them groan in pain and let go of their weapon. they fell to the ground, spider-man shooting yet another web at them to stick their feet to the floor.

he was so close to getting him. he was only feet away, walking closer as he did, his hands curling into fists as anger coursed through his veins. they were stuck. they had no way of leaving, no way of escaping.

"remove his mask," you told him, the curiosity almost too much as you kept your gun pointed at him. gale stood behind you, her eyes wary as she watched the hero walk closer. "spider, remove his mask—"

he threw a punch at the killer. the mask didn't fall off, but the groan of pain he heard was enough that he wanted to keep going. ethan kicked their stomach, his anger growing at the lack of response as he kicked it again. and again.

they killed his sister.

another kick.

they slit her throat. they stabbed her and twisted the knife into her chest. they took away the person that cared for him when his dad didn't, who paid attention to him when all his father really cared about was richie. the one family member who truly loved him and cared for him like any older sister would. they killed her.

and ethan didn't even get to say goodbye.

he could feel tears burning his eyes as he grabbed them by the collar, raising them as much as he could with their foot stuck against the floor. he punched them hard, and that's when he felt it. his nerves going crazy, electrifying his body, and before he knew it, all he felt was pain.

his hand went to the hilt of the knife they had stabbed into him. right into the lower left of his torso, and your gun rang as you shot the killer in the chest. they pulled the knife out with them as they collapsed on the floor.

and as he stumbled to the ground, you caught him. "spider? oh fuck," your breaths were heavy as you immediately applied pressure to his wound, eyes wide as you tried to stop the bleeding. your heart was pounding harder and faster in your chest. he was bleeding so much, the crimson pooling into the palms of your hands as you applied as much pressure as you could.

gale rushed forward, her hand going over yours as her eyes, wide and panicked, looked at you. "you have to take him to the hospital."

"i can't—"

"do you want to save him?!" gale demanded, staring right into your eyes.

"i'll be fine," he seethed through gritted teeth, the pain growing as he tried to move. "i can't go to the hospital. i have to—" he coughed harshly and tasted iron. "i have to get him—"

"are you people fucking crazy?!" gale cried out, looking at the hero in disbelief. "you need help!"

"i'm not letting you get back at them.." your words died in your throat when you looked back at where the killer was supposed to be.

they were gone.

the hero groaned as he pushed himself up, ignoring the way you and gale tried to keep him laying down. "where are they?" he demanded, his head whipping around as he tried to look for the killer. it felt like all his hope for getting his revenge was lost in a blink of an eye. he got away from him again, and he was so close. he had him in his hands. "where are they?"

"we have to get you help," you urged, hearing the ding of the elevator as the carpenter sisters ran in. surely the police was close behind.

"i can't leave, please—" he was pleading with you now, gripping your arm tightly as he tried to change your mind, as he tried to make you forget that he was literally bleeding all over your hands. the warmth of his blood made your eyes glass over as past memories ran rampant through your head, but you prevailed.

"we need to get you help. now." you looked into the eyes of his mask, eyes serious. "please. let's go."

he swung the both of you through your apartment window, groaning as he pulled his mask over half of his face and laid on your bedroom floor. you hurriedly shut the window behind you as you ran to get the medical supplies you needed. your hands were shaking, you realized, as you grabbed your first aid kit and tried to calm your body down.

"dad? dad—" your panicked voice rang through your father's head as he stumbled into your home, his hand holding his side. you were so young, still so full of life and completely oblivious to his line of work. but a heist had gone much too wrong, and with no family, no trust is anyone, he had nothing but you, his 7 year old daughter.

"y/n, get the kit in the bathroom under the sink," he managed past heavy breaths, coughing to his side and spitting blood onto the rug of your living room. you were crying now, eyes blurring over in tears as you pressed against where his hand was, your breathing picking up when blood gushed out of him.

"spider? hey, you gotta stay with me, okay?" you said as you ran back to his side, helping him get onto your bed. you sniffled harshly as you grabbed the first aid kit.

you grabbed the first aid kit with shaking hands, the once-white plastic staining red with your father's blood. "i don't know what i'm doing, i don't know what i'm doing," you said over and over, whispering the words like a panicked mantra.

you could feel the walls of your room tower over you as you forced the box open, grabbing the gauze and bandages with trembling fingers. it was different when it was someone else. it was different when the entire situation reminded you of when you realized your father wasn't who he said he was. that he was a criminal, and after keeping it a secret from you for nearly a decade, his cover was blown.

"kitty," spider managed to say, staring at your wide, horrified eyes as you struggled to clean the blood around his wound. you looked terrified. "look at me."

you ignored his words, taking the roll of gauze and beginning to wound pack his stab wound. the red pool that seemed to grow larger and larger around him made your breath hitch.

he was bleeding everywhere. the pool of red underneath him seemed to grow with every passing moment, and you were crying. sobbing as you tried to listen to your dad's instructions of how to wound pack a bullet wound.

you couldn't think straight. it felt like you were reliving the moment again, as though you were barely 7 with your father's blood on your hands.

you heard him hiss in pain as you continued to press the gauze into his wound, but you kept going. everything was white noise to you as you kept wound packing, frustrated tears dripping from your eyes when the red continued to seep into the white of the gauze. "fuck," you muttered under your breath, grabbing another roll of gauze.

he bit down on his lip to keep himself from screaming, head falling back as he tried to focus on something. anything that would keep his mind off of the stabbing. "please, talk to me," he said, pulling his head back up to look at you. "just talk about something. anything."

you packed the gauze into his wound as you sniffled harshly. "i was 7 when i patched up my first wound. my dad," you swallowed hard, "my dad came home with a bullet wound."

"your father was the original black cat," spider-man said, groaning in pain before he could get another word out.

"he was." you had never admitted that to anyone before. "but i didn't know. not until i was patching up his bullet wound on the living room floor." you felt your heart rate slow when you saw no right of blood seeping through the wound. you had to suture him up.

you slowly began to remove some of the packing gauze, your brows furrowing when you realized his own body was healing him from the inside. slowly but surely, his own powers had stopped the bleeding. all you had to do was suture him.

"you were so young," he managed to say before letting out a whimper of pain. "fuck! sorry i can't talk that much all this hurts really bad and the fact that i couldn't get them—"

"it's fine." you looked into the eyes of his mask. you turned back to the wound, grabbing your suture kit (you really had to get a new one) and taking the needle, thread, and forceps.

"it's not fine. it really isn't fine." the needle pierced his skin and he winced, teeth biting harder into his bottom lip. "i should've thought before going to attack them, i should've removed their mask—"

"stop."

"i shouldn't have let them get away." guilt consumed his every being as he spilled his heart out to you, tears blurring his vision. "i was just.. i was just so angry at them because they killed her. they killed my sister, and i couldn't do anything about it because i wasn't there. i was too fucking late."

his sister. your actions paused when your eyes widened in realization.

"it was his sister," tara said softly, looking at ethan's sleeping face with empathy. "quinn. she didn't make it."

#AUTHOR'S NOTE— pls feel free to ask me for nsfw/sfw headcanons about this series! & thank you all for being so supportive xx

#TAGLIST— @ethanlvndry , @iloveneilperry , @starsfilm , @goosenoggin , @aminatic , @wenvierismycomfort , @l5byrinth , @wroetoslut , @briefwinnerpersonaturtle , @oliviapopewannabe , @wzrlds , @raggedyoldwitch , @hotweeb , @marsyay78 , @valenftcrush , @bonkyandsteeb3000 , @bubs-world , @danis-stuff-is-here , @nuhteyam , @ravenstrueluv , @taeversity , @heartipods

evermore

“and when i was shipwrecked, i thought of you.”

pairing: finnick o’dair x reader

summary: even in the dark times, even when the pain seemed to be for evermore, the thought of you made that all go away.

requested!

warnings/contains: angst maybe, fluff, lmk if i should add more

a/n: with this fic i realised how bad i actually am in writing. i apologise anon for not doing your request any justice i will probably rewrite or edit it once i’ve finished writing all the requests. TYSM for this request tho i absolutely love writing tswift inspired fics 🤭🤭

Where did it all go wrong.

That was the question that kept you up at night and haunted you during the day. It was strange how, no matter how hard you tried to please people, they still found a reason or way to stab you in the back. Finnick was one of the many people, who obeyed the capitols every wish. The main reason being to save his loved ones. And even that wasn’t enough.

No, because the people wanted entertainment, they wanted something more. They wanted to be astonished, blown away.

You knew that by now. Because why else would president Snow make the decision to reap from the existing pool of victors. Because why else would the love of your life, the person you called your home be reaped again. It was all to satisfy the capitol and make them feel even more powerful than they already are.

The moment the woman from the capitol fished a small piece of paper out of the bowl with the reaped one’s name on it, you knew it would be Finnick. When she said the first letter, your prediction was confirmed. And without even hearing the entire name, you broke out into tears.

You watched as your boyfriend tried to be nonchalant about it, smiling through the pain like he always did. But when they zoomed in on his face, you were crying uncontrollably. It didn’t help that you weren’t allowed to come with him either.

However, until the day he left the district you both lived in, you never left his side. Even if it weren’t allowed, even if it meant being threatened by the peacekeeper. Frankly, you couldn’t care less, because all you could care about was your Finnick. The one who was about to relive the torture he did when he was fourteen all over again.

All you could do now was watch him through a screen, something about it bringing some sort of comfort. Because you could see him.

The day of the ceremony was a tough one.

You could tell from everything you saw of him, that the stress and anxiety had gotten to him.

And you were right. He couldn’t function properly without you by his side. Finnick felt as if all the life was sucked out of him and that he would never feel alive again. Nonetheless, he smiled like he was enjoying fighting for his death again. He had to put on a show or else his chances of survival would decrease.

The way the crowd cheered when he was standing next to Caesar flew over his head. Because his thoughts were absolutely consumed by you. Flickerman talked to him, but he didn’t process a single word he was saying. “I heard from a little bird that you have message for somebody. A special somebody.” Caesar said, emphasising the special as he looked at the audience with a smug look.

Finnick’s smile turned more genuine when Flickerman mentioned the special somebody, which was you. The thought of hopefully seeing you again was the only thing keeping him from going insane. So with you in his mind, he started talking in the microphone. “My love,” The crowded room screamed hysterically, but he talked over it, his lips quivering, “You have my heart. For all eternity.”

The image of you sitting on the couch popped into his head and he wished desperately that he was with you right now. “And if…” He continued, but he had a hard time finding the right words. Flickerman nodded at him encouragingly, wondering where this was leading. “If I die in that arena… my last thought will be of your lips.” Your boyfriend tried his best to hold his composure and appear calm and confident, but inside he was breaking down.

After that, the games went by in a blur. The only thing you could vividly remember during the hard times, was the dream you had about Finnick. A dream that you would cherish forever, because it gave you hope of him surviving.

Soon enough, before you knew it, the capitol had taken you because of what happened during the quarter quell. You were watching the games, hoping that the plan your lover and his allies had made would go well. And remember Katniss shooting a bow at the middle of the dome. Before you knew it, the peacekeepers were infiltrating your house. They took you with them, but you can’t recall exactly how and what happened then.

When being held captive by the capitol, Finnick was the only thing you thought about. You weren’t aware if he was alright or not and it scared you more than anything. You snapped out of your thoughts when there was a knock on your door. President Snow himself walked in, accompanied by a woman you had seen by his side a lot recently. It took everything in your power not to jump at and attack him, so you did in your imagination. You imagined strangling him as he talked to you, however, you didn’t care one bit about what he was saying.

But as soon as your lover’s name was mentioned, your ears perked up. “We will find him, dear. And when he sees you, it won’t be long before he will leave district thirteen.”

Some kind of joy bloomed inside your chest, because even though his statement scared you, you were relieved that your Finnick was alive and well.

Finnick didn’t know anything about your state, but he blamed himself for everything that happened to you. He shut himself in his room all day, thinking about you, wishing he was with you, thinking about how things would be like in an alternative universe. He wasn’t aware of his surroundings anymore, being absolutely consumed by and in his thoughts.

Your name was the only word that left his mouth.

One day, Finnick heard about the plans to save you, Johanna and Peeta. And from that day on, he was more involved in everything that happened. Because all he wanted was for you to be with him again and he would do everything it took to get

you back to him. The day of executing the plan finally came and it went by swiftly, however for Finnick, it felt as if a million years passed by. Everything felt out of place without you.

After his interview, which was meant to distract both president Snow and the capitol, he rushed to Katniss. He interrogated her about if it had worked, but even she was unsure if it was a success.

Finnick waited for hours, pacing through his room anxiously. The only thing running through his mind being you, like always. He started to realise how just the thought of you had brought him so far. Because without you, he wouldn’t have cared if he passed away in that arena. Without you, he wouldn’t do his best to keep himself alive and to openly talk about what Snow did to him. Because for you, he would do anything. Anything you wanted him to do.

When he heard yelling coming from down the hall, his eyes widened. Was it possible that they were back with you guys already? Finnick didn’t waste any time and before he knew it, he was standing next to Katniss, waiting for Coin to tell them what was going on. But when he saw Johanna lying on a hospital bed, he knew enough.

You were somewhere here too.

He greeted Johanna, thankful that she was saved as well, before looking around to find you. Finnick asked every person he ran into, anyone that might know where you were. But everyone was so busy with everything they were doing, that they didn’t respond to him.

At this point, Finnick entered any room there was, in hopes to find you after the long separation. He searched every room, investigated every hall, but there was no sign of you.

Your lover was frantically looking around, when you awoke. And even though you were unaware about where you were, the only thing that mattered was that Finnick was right there. You wanted to call out his name, but there was no sound coming out of your mouth.

But you didn’t need words, because your boyfriend could feel your presence. When your gazes locked, Finnick didn’t waste a second when making his way over to you. He pushed away everyone that crossed his path, and pushed the doctors surrounding you aside.

Finnick halted right next to you, tears swelling up in both your and his eyes. He picked you up, not caring about the man that told him not to. He wrapped his arms around you so strongly, you were sure you would never get out of his grip.

Many tears left your eyes as you were finally in the arms of your home.

Finnick pulled away after a long time and took a good look at you, before pressing his lips against yours like a starved man. Hungry for you and your touch, he kissed you like you were all alone, with no one around. The only reason the two of you pulled away, was the lack of oxygen, and when you did you flashed him a smile.

“I finally kissed the lips that were on my mind the entire time.” Finnick whispered, his arms still wrapped around you. With a chuckle you planted another kiss on his lips, before pulling him in again for another hug. Being with your lover restored all the hope and will to live again.

And with him you were sure, that this pain wouldn’t be for evermore.

weak hero class 2 headcanons — kisses with the boys of whc²

synopsis — headcanons on how the boys of whc2 would kiss you ^^

pairing/s — sieun x reader, suho x reader, baku x reader, gotak x reader, juntae x reader, baekjin x reader, seongje x reader

a/n — no hyoman despite the photo used, obviously not writing for a sexual harasser on here. love the actor tho!

⤷ yeon sieun

sieun’s kisses are quiet, like everything he does—calculated, meticulous, but the impact lingers. he pauses first, eyes searching yours for confirmation, always making sure. “just for a second,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb beneath your jaw. si-eun’s not the type to make a big deal out of it, but when he leans in, it’s with the kind of care that makes your heart ache. his fingers trail down from your jaw to the back of your ear, tentative, like he’s scared he’ll break something if he moves too fast. “stay still,” he murmurs, voice low, like he’s focusing too hard. and when your lips meet, it’s feather-light but grounding, like he’s anchoring himself in the feeling of you. and for just a second, you feel like you’re the only thing in his world.

⤷ ahn suho

suho kisses you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. like breathing, like blinking. he grins as he leans down, arms loose around your waist, and you feel the warmth radiating off him even before his lips touch yours. “you’re staring,” he teases, his voice barely above a whisper. “you gonna kiss me or just keep looking?” and when you do, he laughs into the kiss, light and carefree, his hand slipping up the back of your neck, pulling you just a little closer. “there,” he says, smug. “much better.”

⤷ park humin (baku)

baku’s grinning before he even kisses you. leans in like he’s about to tell you a secret, lips brushing yours once, twice, then pulling back with a little laugh when you chase him. “missed me?” he teases, but when he’s kissing you for real—it’s slower, deeper, more serious than you expect. his hand’s at your hip, fingers curling through your belt loop like he doesn’t want you going anywhere. “you’re mine now, you know that?” he murmurs, still smiling, but it’s softer now. the kind that makes your stomach flip in the best way.

⤷ go hyuntak (gotak)

gotak’s kiss is slow and reassuring, the kind of kiss that makes you feel like everything is going to be okay. he’s calm and deliberate, pulling you closer with a gentleness that contrasts with his usual boyish disposition. his lips move against yours with a soft rhythm, and his hand rests on the back of your head, pressing you in just a little closer.

“you’re safe with me,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your cheek, and you can feel the sincerity in his words, as though he’s silently promising to protect you.

⤷ seo juntae

juntae’s so nervous you can practically feel it in the way his fingers twitch near yours. “can i—uh, is it okay if i…?” he trails off, face already red, and you have to smile because he’s so damn sweet. when he finally kisses you, it’s hesitant, a soft press of lips like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. but the second time, when you kiss him back, he relaxes. his hand comes up to cup your cheek, and it’s deeper, more sure. “that wasn’t… too weird, right?” he asks, voice sheepish. you shake your head and laugh. he kisses you again, smiling this time.

⤷ na baekjin

baekjin’s kiss is unexpected, full of intensity and passion. he doesn’t waste time with hesitation—his lips crash into yours with a fervor that surprises you, as though he’s been holding back for too long. his hands grip your waist, pulling you in as if he doesn’t want to let go. there’s something urgent, something desperate in the way he kisses you, but it softens as you respond, and for once, he allows himself to give in to the moment.

“don’t pull away,” he murmurs softly against your lips, his breath shaky, and as his thumb gently brushes your cheek, you can feel the blood rushing through his veins, telling you everything he’s too afraid to say.

⤷ geum seongje

seongje is impulsive, and his kiss is no different. he doesn’t ask for permission, he just goes for it, his hand slips around your wrist, pulling you in close, and he doesn’t hesitate—his lips crash into yours with a reckless kind of intensity that leaves you breathless. it’s wild and spontaneous, the kind of kiss that catches you off guard, but you can feel the deep emotion behind it, the rawness in the way he holds you. he pulls away with a smirk, looking at you like he’s just gotten away with something.

“you didn’t see that coming, did you?” his grin is a mix of mischief and a crazy, magnetic attraction to you.

𐔌 . ⋮ taglist .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ @loserlvrss @nanamiswifesatorusgf @hateateez @slytherinshua @winnie-bunnie @rexxiiia (need more whc enjoyers on here lmk if u wanna be added !!)

Hii I love your work and I have this idea for a while so I hope that you could write it!!

Could you maybe do like based on the last video from Beta, the one in the hotel, where like your a guest and there’s like alove connection with one of the members.

I would really love if it could be like Niko or Chunkz but you write with who you want!!!

Room Service - Chunkz

Summary: You thought you'd signed up for a chaotic night at a YouTuber-run hotel, but instead, you ended up being flirted into a four-course crush by Chunkz with special room service, dessert, and all.

Pairing: Chunkz x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Masterlist

You didn't expect much when your friend surprised you with a last-minute night at a "five-star hotel" run by YouTubers. Honestly, it sounded chaotic. But you went along, suitcase in hand, rolling up to the front desk where Niko and Kenny were already bickering over who had to handle the next guest complaint.

Your check-in was clumsy at best. Kenny handed you a room key, while Niko with his dead serious exprression while he offered a foot massage "for special guests only." You laughed it off, amused but not exactly hopeful, and headed upstairs.

Only to find that Niko had confidently given you a keycard to a room already occupied by a family of four.

You stood in the hallway awkwardly, reevaluating your life choices and adding this moment to your top ten most embarrassing experiences of all time.

Deciding you'd had enough, you wandered back downstairs to the kitchen area Niko had said was "open 24/7" hoping to at least grab a snack while you sorted things out.

And then, he walked in.

Chunkz. Of course you weren't expecting him. Not like that.

He strolled in beside Aj, both of them standing behind the restaurant counter like they belonged in a Michelin-starred kitchen. Aj looked focused, surprisingly serious. Chunkz was laughing at something Aj said, his energy calm but magnetic. You had to give it to him, he looked like he was really trying, taking this whole fake hotel gig more seriously than you'd expected.

And then he looked up.

His eyes met yours, just for a second. Then he smiled, lazy and confident like he already knew how your night was going to end.

"You lost? Or you just came here for me?" Chunkz asked strolling your way with that smug, teasing grin.

"I'm still having problems with my room. The receptionist may have made a mistake..." You said with a shrug.

"I'll show you up, don't want you running into any more... surprises" Chunkz offered, already turning to walk with you, flashing another grin.

"One of the receptionists told me I could come down here anytime" You added, glancing toward the kitchen.

"We're closed for now, it opens again later" Aj cut in. 

"Why are those two setting us up, man?!" Aj said to the camera.

"Those schmucks probably did it on purpose" Chunkz said, not sounding the least bit mad about it. 

"But I don't mind helping you out" Chunkz added with a small smile.

AJ muttered something about "betraying the team" as you followed Chunkz to the lift, tension crackling like static. You weren't blind, he was handsome, obviously but it was how he carried himself. Smooth. Effortless. That kind of charm that made you feel like the only person in the room when he spoke to you.

"So, what brings you to the Beta Hotel?" Chunkz asked as the elevator doors closed.

"Needed a break, didn't think I'd be walking into a reality show" You replied, laughing softly.

"We take hospitality very seriously here" Chunkz said with a grin. 

"You might even get a serenade at dinner" Chunkz added.

"You sing?" You raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"I do a lot of things" Chunkz replied smoothly, his gaze flicking briefly to your mouth before darting away. 

"But only for the right guests" Chunkz added.

Your new room was cleaner, tucked in a quiet corner of the hotel. Chunkz handed you a keycard Aj had found back in one of the tables in the restaurant, one of the master keys, if his smirk was anything to go by. His fingers brushed yours, lingering longer than necessary.

"If you're coming down to dinner" Chunkz said, voice a little softer now, 

"Let me know, I'll save you a seat" Chunkz added.

"Only if you're serving" You replied, leaning against the doorframe.

"Then I guess I'll see you tonight" Chunkz said as he stepped back slowly, like he wasn't quite ready to leave.

Then came dinner.

You hadn't planned on flirting. You hadn't planned on smiling at your phone every time he cracked a joke over dinner 

Dinner turned into a long conversation. Chunkz brought your plate himself, ignored AJ's annoyed looks, and kept coming back to your table like you were a VIP guest.

By dessert, you weren't even hungry. You were laughing too much. Leaning closer. Watching his hands. His grin. The low, smooth confidence in his voice that made you forget you were in a hotel run by chaos.

At the end of the night, he walked you back to your room. The hallway was quiet. But his voice was warm in your ear as you stopped outside your door. 

"You sure this is your room?" Chunkz teased, silent referral with the room confusion earlier.

"Wanna check?" You said as you glanced at him. 

"You're trouble" Chunkz said as he chuckled, eyes flicking to your lips before rising back to meet your eyes.

"And you're serving me a four-course flirt" You said, smiling.

Something electric hung in the air between you. Then, he gently tucked the keycard into your hand that must have slipped from your hand.

"Goodnight, beautiful" Chunkz murmured. 

"Sleep tight, breakfast's on me in the morning" Chunkz added.

You watched him walk away, already wondering what you'd order. 

Probably him. 

And you definitely hadn't planned on leaning against your hotel door later that night when he brought up your dessert himself with tray in hand and that same damn smile on his lips.

"Just wanted to make sure your night ended sweet" Chunkz murmured, gaze locking onto yours for a second too long.

And somehow, one night didn't feel like enough anymore.

////_////_////_////

Chunkz was still smiling when he made it back to the kitchen, fingers warm from where they'd brushed yours. He didn't usually get caught up like this, but you? You were different. Sharp. Unbothered. Playful. The kind of woman who could flirt without trying and still leave him speechless.

He barely made it two steps inside before Aj clocked him.

"Ohhh, so you really walked her to her room, yeah?" Aj teased as he leaned against the prep counter, grinning. 

"That's mad, man gave full escort service" Aj said as he laughed.

"Customer service is important, bro" Chunkz said as he smirked, trying to play it cool.

"Customer service? Bro, that woman earlier asked you to join her in the room multiple times yet you turned her down multiple times too" Aj said with a raised eyebrow yet the smile isn't leaving his face.

"She's too old for me, fam. What's with these old horny women anyways?" Chunkz said.

"She had cougar confidence" Aj said as he cackled. 

"Then ten minutes later, you're out here walking the baddest guest we've had all night to her room? Nah, I rate it. Man's got range" Aj said, expression amused.

Chunkz rolled his eyes, but a faint pink crept up his ears.

"I invited her to breakfast, actually" Chunkz said with a smug smile.

"Room service and breakfast?" Aj said as he dramatically gasped. 

"You moving like a whole staycation package" Aj said.

Chunkz tried not to smile. Tried. Failed. You'd thrown him off his game but in a way he didn't mind at all.

"She's fire though" Aj added, sounding more like a proud wingman now. 

"I saw her walk in and I knew you jokeman was gonna clock her straight away. The way you dropped that dessert tray? Embarrassing" Aj said, smirking.

"It was one tray, relax. I was distracted" Chunkz said, giving Aj a brief side eye.

"Props though, you were trying to be respectful by costing our team to lose" Aj said.

"Yeah, well, don't let Kenny or Niko find out. Kenny's already asking if he can help with room service tomorrow" Aj added.

"Over my dead body" Chunkz said as gave him a look. 

"Mans already acting like it's his hotel wife" Aj laughed.

Chunkz just smiled to himself, slowly rolling a towel between his fingers. The thought of you upstairs and maybe still thinking about him, had him already looking forward to breakfast duty.

Yeah, he'd be there.

Fresh shirt, and best cologne.

And maybe, just maybe, dessert before noon.

- end -

Hello lovelies!! See? Consistency from me lmao 

Another Chunkz because my man deserves love like this and I see not too many fics for him. For all the Chunkz girlies.

I hope y'all have an amazing day, absolute love and guidance.

As I said everytime, send in some request and ideas!!

can I request an imagine (or it could be a hc) abt how the reader and trent are so wrapped up in each others love. like the world around them dosent exists when they are together. it could be when going out with friends or after a game 🫶🏽 not sure if I came abt this right but I hope u get the idea. thanks!

LOVE BUBBLE: trent alexander-arnold x reader

NOTE: i don't know if this is satisfactory level but i definitely love writing for soft!trent 🤧 he's my baby boy and i would definitely be looking at him with heart eyes every time like it's me against the world just for my favorite right-back.

It’s probably Trent’s beautiful face.

Or his Scouse accent that immediately hooks your attention on to him when he speaks, like a magic melody that enchants those who hears him talk.

Or maybe, you just love both and the entirety of him too much to be enticed by the things happening outside of your bubble.

Trent has the same love-dovey eyes when he's with youㅡ from an outsider’s perspective he's definitely someone who holds a personal vendetta against those who are not you.

It's the nonchalant, almost detached and cold look he possesses when he's having a conversation with the others, but that look drops because he's all smiley and attentive and chatty when he's around you.

The both of you don't notice of course, too wrapped up in each other's presence to notice those things that the other people from an outside perspective have observed.

Your hangouts with your friends should be infested with ants, they think.

You could be having a small random conversation with Trent, a simple talk about the most nonsensical topics but it's almost like you're talking of the greatest adventures you both went together due to how invested you two are of what the other has to say.

Trent would be leaning down to catch your words better, smiling too much for someone who doesn't smile a lot and you would be laying a hand or an arm over his and your boyfriend would use that as an opportunity to tuck a stray hair behind your ears, or wipe something off your face or pull your chair close to his as if you're both not sitting close enough, the distance an outrageous offense.

It's not overbearing (yet) to your friends to see two people act the way you both do, knowing of how horrible your past relationships had went, not even to the point of them being bearable and you, opening up traitsㅡ good traits from a closed-off person like Trent which truthfully, helps eliminate the idea that he's an imposing man especially in front of the media and fans.

It's just very sweet and new to the eyes of the people who had a fair share of memories enough to dapple you with.

It's like witnessing two soulmates finding the red thread on their pinky finger, slowly lurching towards the other as they get to know each other better, unraveling certain things that only the both of them can find and helping each other heal their traumas from years-worth of existing within the range of people that left them scarred.

What love you have is just so mellow and full and beautiful. It's a love that the others wish they have and by the reaction of the bystanders witnessing you and Trent be complete with the presence of the other, it's definitely a relationship that they knew would last for a lifetime and possibly even the next to come.