Hey! Was Just Wondering (if Your Requests Are Open) If You Could Write Something About Chad Meeks (from

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

finnick always makes me think of evermore specifically the bridge, maybe a fic inspired by that song? like maybe the reader wrote it or just the vibes yk

TYSMSMSMSM FOR THIS REQUEST!! 💝💝 HERE IT IS and PLEASE READ THE AUTHORS NOTE BC I KNOW ITS REALLY BAD

I have the silliest thought but what if y/n gave Trent a starboy bracelet as a joke since everybody calls him that and she teases him about it 🤭

starboy — trent alexander-arnold ₊˚ෆ

zowa this is so cute !!!!! 🥺🥺🥺 i changed the concept a little bit but i absolutely loved writing this !!! it doesn’t really have as much teasing as i would like but lets just say they are very much in love!! | MAIN MASTERLIST

“Open it! Open it!”

Trent smiled when he saw you at the couch. “What’s going on?” He gave your forehead a soft peck before taking the little wrapped box from your hands and sat next to you.

He could tell that you could hardly contain your excitement, you were practically bouncing off the couch. “I got you a little surprise!”

Trent narrowed his eyes, taking in your optimistic behaviour suspiciously. He softly chuckled before tearing the wrapper open. Revealing a dainty black box and his suspicions only grew.

“Love, what’s this?”

You rolled your eyes, “Just open it, will ya.” smiling as you encouraged him to open the gift.

Trent opened the box and his eye’s immediately flew open. You started to fidget nervously with your fingers, waiting for his reaction.

Before you knew it you were already rambling, “It’s not much but I think you would like it so I customised one for you and—“

“Oh my god.” Trent breathed out, he carefully took the bracelet out of the box and examined it up close. He was in such awe of the jewellery, and in you, he was almost speechles. “You didn’t have to do this, love.”

You shrugged, “I wanted to.” planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Can you help me put it on?” Trent asked, albeit a little shyly, looking at you as if he was in a daze.

You beamed at him. “Of course.” you gently took the bracelet from his hands, trying to clasp it together.

All while you’re doing this, Trent was boring holes on to the side of your head with his intense gaze. He didn’t let his eyes drop down even when you said you were all done putting it on him.

“All done.”

You smiled at him, feeling your ego swell up when you read the ‘STARBOY’ sign as it shone under the lights. Yeah, you got him that and he’s wearing it and you think you might pass out if he doesn’t stop looking at you like that.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

Trent chuckled, and you hated how he sounded so smug, “Like what?”

You softly smacked his shoulder, “I don’t know. Like I bought you a fucking mansion with six sports cars.” you softly smacked his shoulder

“Feels like it.”

You meet his eyes, brown and wide, comforting and infatuated. “So I take it you like it?”

“I love it sweetheart.” he whispered, fingers trailing the engraved letters.

You giggled, the high pitched kind that you make when your crush finally looks at you and you weren’t shameful in the slightest bit.

“My starboy.” you muttered, dropping your head to his shoulders as your hands rested on top of Trent’s that was already on the bracelet.

He nudged you up, nuzzling his nose with yours before connecting your lips together, “Your starboy.”

reblog for a kiss <3

I actually need more hyuntak fics rn pls where is it

how it feels scrolling through the “x reader” tags during october as someone who doesn’t read smut

realest thing I’ve ever read on tiktok 🫠

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 !!)

lover boy

summary: with a break after doing tons of press, jude only wants to spend his time with one person.

pairing: jude bellingham x reader

the very last shoot jude needed to do before his vacation was his new adidas ad, to promote the collection he did with the brand. being that the euros were finally completed, the boy couldn't be more happy for the upcoming vacation.

"jude, you need to get up," you whispered to him, reaching over him to turn off the alarm.

"i don't want to."

"well you kinda have to. i don't think adidas will be very happy with you," he groaned, flipping his body to lay on his side. jude opens his eyes and held his gaze on you.

"good morning darling."

"good morning m'love. seriously get up before you're late."

"i just wanna be with you. is that so bad?"

"no but in this case yes. you have a ad campaign you need to shoot," you bring your fingers to trace shapes on his arm. he closes his eyes in contentment, quickly soaking in the feeling of your touch.

"you made a commitment baby."

"fine fine, i'm getting up now," he poke's his head up to kiss your cheeks, before finally getting out of bed. "you look so cute snuggled up like that. that's a sight to make a man forget his responsibilities."

"you're such a flirt. go get ready," you couldn't help but to laugh at his dramatics.

"at least take a shower with me."

"can you handle and keep your hands to yourself?"

"i'm not sure yet," jude proceeds to bite his bottom lip, causing you to give him a blank stare.

"wrong answer. go shower, you're wasting time babe," you turn over in bed, hearing jude groan again before he left to finally get ready.

-

"okay, i'm leaving but i'll be back before you even realize i'm gone."

"be safe baby," you lean on your elbow to prop yourself up, puckering your lips for him to leave a kiss. jude gladly does so, leaving a couple pecks.

"i love you sweetheart."

"i love you the most."

"impossible, i love you wayyy more," jude whisper fell on your lips, right as he lays more kisses on your lips.

'you have to go jude."

"just one more kiss," he kisses your lips once more, then pulled away to place one on your forehead as well. you waved at jude with a smile, as he finally left the house.

-

jude wasn't late to the shoot in the end. the man was getting very irritated the more it went on. having to reshoot the scenes. he kept messing up the dialogue. maybe, its because he knew that this was his last commitment before vacation. all he knew was he wanted to be at home, with you in his arms.

"and cut! that's a wrap everyone," with the director clapping, everyone joined in. jude claps with the rest of the team, saying thank you. once he got all his thank you's out, he left immediately. itching to be home already.

-

pulling up to the house, was like a breath of fresh air. he was a free man for the next couple of weeks. jude planned a boys trip to california and miami. he was a bit bummed that you had to stay in spain for work. so he wanted spend as much time as he could with you. just as he was about to walk through the door, his phone starts ringing.

"hello?"

"hey man, the rest of the team is going out tonight before we all go on vacation. you coming?" his teammate and friend, vini jr says. jude pauses, he could either go out or stay inside with you.

"nah, i'm chilling at home today."

"okay, talk to you later."

"alright, bye," he's quick to hang up the phone and walk in your shared home. jude is greeted with the smell of food, specifically pizza.

"baby?" he calls out for you, wondering around looking for you.

"in the kitchen!"

turning the corner, he lays his eyes on you. jude watches you sitting on the counter with a piece of pizza in one hand and your phone in the other. you were wearing his shirt, it stopping on your mid thigh. a sight he quickly grew to love coming home to. you looked up from your phone, meeting his eyes.

"i got hungry but didn't want to cook."

jude chuckles at the way you talk with your mouth slightly full. one of your quirks he's always loved. he closes the short distance between the two of you, inviting himself to stand in your legs. you welcomed him by wrapping your legs loosely around his waist.

"hi."

"hi honey," jude brings a hand to your cheek, swiping his thumb on the apple of your cheek. you place the rest of the pizza in the box, giving him all of your attention.

"how'd it go?"

"don't wanna talk about that right now. just wanna be with you," jude presses his forehead against yours. the stress of the morning finally melting off.

"well, we have a couple days together, before you leave for your trip."

"which means i get you all to myself. thank the heavens."

"you're being dramatic again jude."

"don't care, all i want is you," leaning down to spread kisses in the column of your neck. you giggled and try to move away from his pillowy like kisses. "can't run from me baby, there's not an inch of you that's not gonna be kissed!"

TO NOT REGRET

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

PLOT: your best friend since childhood, would it mess up your relationship if you were to confess?

WORD COUNT: 1.4K

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

You felt so wrong. So messed up.

Everyone had warned you. They said having a guy best friend for so long would only end one way—you’d catch feelings for him. But you never believed it. You were married, after all. To the love of your life. Or so you thought.

He did everything for you. Everything to make you happy. You needed him, and he gave you that, without hesitation. But then one night, everything fell apart.

Your phone rang. It was Junho. In the middle of the night. Your eyes were heavy, but you picked up anyway, trying to keep quiet so you didn’t wake your husband.

“Hello? Junho, why are you calling me this late?” You rubbed your eyes, your voice thick with sleep. But on the other side, there was only quiet—then sniffles.

“Hey... Junho, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Do you want me to come to you?” Your voice shot up, the panic creeping in. Something wasn’t right.

“I... I need you. I don’t know what to do...” Junho’s voice was shaky, like he was breaking.

Your heart dropped. You could hear the desperation in his words. “Junho, where are you? What’s going on?” You stood up, looking over at your husband, still asleep in bed. For a moment, you just stared. But then you kissed his forehead, instinctively, and walked out of the room.

You grabbed your keys. The worry inside you was growing. “Junho, are you still there? Where are you? What happened?”

“I’m at the beach... at the dock we used to go to.”

You felt your pulse quicken. The dock? Why was he there, at that place? What was going on? But all you could think was, I need to be there for him.

You started the car and drove off into the night, unsure of what you’d find, but knowing you couldn’t leave him alone.

Your hands gripped the steering wheel as you followed the winding road to the beach. It was quiet now—Junho hadn’t said anything since his last words, but that heaviness hung in the air, thick and uncomfortable. You tried not to think too much about what you’d find when you got there. All you knew was that you had to be with him. He needed you.

The headlights of your car bounced off the sand as you finally reached the dock. You parked, your breath shallow. There, sitting alone in the dark, was Junho. His shoulders were slumped, his head down. He seemed so small, so fragile. In his hands, he was holding a crumpled paper, staring at it as if it were his only lifeline.

“Junho?” you called softly, stepping out of the car, your voice trembling.

At the sound of your voice, he slowly lifted his head. His eyes were red and puffy, tears still glistening on his lashes, and in that moment, it hit you. This wasn’t just about a late-night breakdown. This was something deeper.

Before you could take another step, Junho looked at you with such raw vulnerability that it made your heart ache. Without thinking, you rushed over to him, wrapping your arms around him in a tight, desperate hug.

“I’m here. I’m right here, Junho,” you whispered, trying to steady your breathing, but felt your own tears beginning to well up.

Junho didn’t pull away. He let you hold him, his body shaking slightly. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Finally, you pulled back slightly, cupping his face with your hands, looking at him with worried eyes.

“What’s going on? What’s making you feel like this?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, afraid of what you might hear.

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he handed you the paper he had been clutching, his fingers brushing against yours in a fleeting touch. You unfolded it, your heart sinking when you saw the familiar handwriting. It was both of yours handwriting. From when you both were younger, back when everything felt so simple.

You read it aloud, your voice thick with emotion, “We’ll stay together forever. We’ll get married. We’ll have two dogs, and one baby girl…” You voice faltered, and the tears you’d been holding back came pouring down your face. “Junho… why are you showing me this?” you choked out, your hands trembling as you held the paper.

Junho swallowed hard, looking down at the sand between them. “Because I... I need you to know. I never stopped feeling this way about you, Y/n. I never stopped loving you.”

Your chest tightened, a wave of confusion and sorrow washing over her. You tried to speak, but the words got caught in your throat.

“I didn’t mean to ruin anything,” Junho continued, his voice quieter now, but still laced with raw honesty. “I’ve watched you be happy with him, and I didn’t want to mess that up. I didn’t want to be the one who told you this and make you question everything. But I can’t keep pretending that this—” He gestured between them, his hand trembling, “—is nothing.”

Everything you thought you knew, everything you had felt in your heart, was suddenly unraveling before you. “Junho… I—” You cut yourself off, shaking your head, trying to process his confession, his words.

Junho looked at you with that same broken expression. “I don’t want to make you choose. I just... I need you to know how I feel. And if that means letting you go, then I’ll let you go. I’ll stay in the background, like I’ve always done.”

But you couldn’t even think about that. You couldn’t think about choosing. How could you, when everything inside you felt torn between loyalty and this pull to Junho that you had been running from for so long?

“Junho, I... I don’t know what to say,” you whispered, your heart shattering. “I’m married. I love him. I love my life with him. But you… You’re a part of me, too. I never thought—” your voice cracked, “I never thought you felt this way.”

Junho nodded, his face unreadable. “I never wanted to make things harder for you. But I also couldn’t live in the shadow of what we used to be without telling you.”

You stared out at the water. “What are we supposed to do now?” you murmured, tears slipping down your face, feeling like the weight of everything was too much to bear.

For a long time, Junho didn’t answer. He just sat there, beside you, the two of you facing the endless horizon, lost in the silence between them.

Junho shifted beside you, his eyes still on the sand, and for a moment, it felt like time had stopped. Neither of you spoke, as if you were both trying to piece together everything that had been said, everything that had been hidden for so long.

And then, without a word, Junho turned to you. He reached out, his fingers brushing gently along your cheek, wiping away the tears you hadn't even realized had fallen. His touch felt like fire, soft and burning at the same time. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding as he slowly leaned in.

Before you could process it, Junho’s lips were on yours. It was tender at first, as if testing the waters, as if asking for permission. You froze, your mind screaming at you to pull away, to stop this from happening. But then you felt it—the warmth of him, the closeness, the years of friendship and longing that suddenly rushed forward all at once. Your hands moved on their own, reaching up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, deeper into the kiss.

Junho’s lips were desperate now, as if he had been waiting for this moment, this feeling. And you, lost in the emotions, lost in everything that was happening—responded just as fervently.

When you both finally broke apart, both breathless, Junho’s eyes were filled with something you couldn’t quite describe. “I don’t regret it,” he said softly, his voice hoarse.

Your heart hammered in your chest. You could barely process the words, but in that moment, you didn’t need to. You were overwhelmed, but in the best possible way.

For a split second, you just stared at him, your lips still tingling from the kiss, your mind racing with a thousand questions. And then, before you could stop yourself, you leaned in again, this time more certain. You kissed him back, slowly, but with a deeper hunger, as if the kiss itself was an apology, a confession, and an answer all at once.

When you both pulled away again, you looked at him, your eyes filled with emotion. You didn’t regret it either.

And for the first time in a long time, it felt like you were finally being honest with yourself.

hi :)) i LOOOOOOVE your writing, you do all the boys so much justice. i was reading the intimacy one and saw you wanted requests for gotak 👀👀

this ideas been festering in my head so walk with me (or don't, that's also fine.)

new student!reader who comes to class and has a small run in with juntae (similar to how he bumped into sieun) and thinks he's adorable so they kinda just naturally becomes really close friends with him. gotak heard news about the new student and also started to hear juntae talk about them so he lowkey tries to swindle juntae into introducing all of them. juntae being the cutie (but also not naive!) he is decided to introduce them and gotak is taken back by how close they are and gets mildly jealous (for what reason 🤔😏).

sorry for the ramble and also that went no where but it's been in my head for sooooo long 😭😭😭

pairing — go hyuntak (gotak) x gn!reader (ft. bff!juntae) genre — fluff, comedy, f2l warnings — mild language, injury (minor sprain), sieun being an instigator, baku being a headass word count — ~2.1k

note: omg this took soooo long to post because of my break !! i finished this actually a week ago lol i just had lots of prior requests to get to so i never got around to posting it. alas, let us all welcome gotak’s debut on my blog !! the people have been waitinggggg and asking for this one !! and finally... !!

masterlist | join the taglist | request a fic

to put it simply, if you hadn’t turned the corner right at that moment, you don’t know how the rest of this school year would've turned out.

new school, new people, new everything. you had a map in your hand and maybe two brain cells left when someone rounded the hallway a little too fast and bumped straight into you. papers went flying. both of you froze.

“oh no—wait, i’m sorry, that was me,” he said, already crouched down to gather the mess like it was his life that had been scattered across the floor.

you blinked, surprised. he had soft eyes and glasses sliding halfway down his nose and this slightly panicked look like he thought you might cry.

“it’s okay,” you told him. “honestly, you might’ve saved my life. i was about to walk straight into a locked door.”

he smiled, awkward and kind. “my name is juntae. seo juntae. you’re new, right?”

you nodded. and just like that, he offered to walk you to class—it was the easiest decision you’d made all day.

juntae was the type of person who made space for you without ever making you feel like a burden. he brought you snacks during lunch and showed you where to hide out when the hallways got too loud. he also talked a lot about his friends, and one afternoon—like it was the most natural thing in the world—he said, “oh, you should meet sieun. you’d like him.”

you did. he was quiet and careful with his words, but funny in a dry way that caught you off guard. he’d glance at juntae like you really brought them here? but still offered you a spot at the table. he even let you steal a fry. so you counted that as a win.

after that came baku—loud, sunny, fast-talking. he practically tackled you into a high five and said, “juntae’s new bestie? you’re in good hands,” before dragging you into some debate about what counts as a sandwich.

somehow, you ended up kind of... just around. like a ghost that turned real. people knew your name before you introduced yourself. baku waved whenever he saw you. sieun always made room for you on the bench. and juntae, sweet as he was, forgot to formally introduce you to one person.

“yo,” gotak called, wiping sweat from his neck as he tossed the basketball to baku. “who’s that?”

baku looked up from tying his shoelace. “huh?”

“over there,” gotak nodded toward the sidelines, where you were doubled over laughing next to sieun and juntae. “they’ve been hanging around a lot.”

baku blinked, “that’s y/n.” as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

gotak simply stared, as baku tilted his head. “you know them. don’t you?”

gotak looked back at you. you were teasing juntae about something, eyes crinkled, whole face lit up. juntae said something back that made you shove his arm, half-laughing, half-gasping.

gotak frowned, “i’ve never met them.”

baku paused. “wait. what? i thought juntae introduced you already—he told everyone else. dude. even sieun knows her.”

gotak narrowed his eyes. “so why didn’t he tell me?”

“damn,” baku grinned. “someone’s feeling left out.” as he threw the ball to his chest, a little too roughly to snap his friend out of it.

“shitty pass,” gotak muttered under his breath, passing the ball back to him.

baku snorted. “you sure you’re mad about the ball and not the fact that your bestie got a new bestie?”

gotak didn’t answer. but later that day, when he caught you waiting for juntae outside the gym, he slowed down.

you waved, and he waved back. maybe a little delayed, a little thoughtful.

maybe a little curious.

he hesitated like he was deciding something, then crossed the space between you with that awkward confidence some people carry when they’re not used to starting conversations but do it anyway.

he scratched the back of his neck, eyes flicking down before landing on yours. “hey. uh... y/n,”

you smiled. “hi.”

he nodded, like that helped him keep going. “i’m also juntae’s friend, in the basketball team. with baku.” you tilted your head. “oh yeah—go hyuntak, right?”

he blinked.

you shrugged. “baku mentioned you once. and you were on the court earlier.”

gotak looked a little caught off guard, like he hadn’t expected you to know his name. then his mouth twitched, the smallest upward curve. “...right. that’s me. call me gotak.”

you stood there for a beat, quiet.

“it’s nice to meet you,” you said.

he glanced up, then back down, like he was working through a million thoughts at once. “yeah. you too.”

just then, the gym doors creaked open behind you.

“y/n!” jun-tae called, jogging out with his bag slung over one shoulder. “sorry—got caught up helping the coach—oh, hey gotak!”

gotak stepped back half a pace, nodding. “hey.”

juntae looked between you, confused for half a second. “wait—did i never introduce you guys?”

you and gotak both said, “no.”

juntae blinked. “...oops.”

you laughed. gotak didn’t, but his shoulders relaxed a little as he looked over at you again.

after that, he finally had an excuse.

or maybe it was just that now you were officially introduced—he started showing up more. like how he always just happened to walk by your classroom when it let out. or how he’d offer to carry your stuff from your locker even if it wasn’t heavy. he’d still act casual about it—mumbling something about "heading that way anyway"—but the look in his eyes always lingered a little longer than it used to.

you started showing up to practices more too. usually with a water bottle in hand. eventually, two.

then four.

baku started calling you their "hydration manager" and gotak rolled his eyes every time, but he’d take the bottle from your hands like it meant something, every time you handed him his bottle, your fingers would brush. lightly. deliberately. like a habit you weren’t in a rush to break.

he wasn’t loud about it, but as the days passed, he found himself looking for you more often than he meant to—your voice across the court, your laugh when juntae said something stupid, and the way you stuck around even when no one asked you to.

he didn’t say it out loud, but your presence became something he... liked. something that made the world feel a little softer when you were around.

and sometimes, when you laughed a little too hard at juntae’s jokes, gotak would glance over without meaning to. once, he got so distracted that baku shot the ball clean over his head and it smacked him right in the back.

“yo!” baku shouted, rushing over. “you good?!”

gotak muttered, rubbing the side of his head, “i wasn’t looking.”

“clearly,” baku huffed. “what were you looking at?”

gotak didn’t answer. just glanced back toward the sidelines, where you were sitting, completely unaware.

you weren’t exactly subtle either.

at first, it was just a glance. maybe two. maybe three, if you were feeling brave and he was too focused on the court to notice. there was something about the way he moved—steady, grounded, all quiet strength and furrowed brows. you’d never really watched basketball before, but suddenly it was your favorite part of the afternoon.

whenever he scored, you clapped a little louder. a little quicker. maybe even stood up once, under the excuse of stretching.

juntae caught you once. leaned over and whispered, “you cheer louder for him than for baku.”

you blinked. “no i don’t.”

he grinned. “yes you do.”

you smacked his arm. “shut up.”

but the next time gotak glanced toward the benches after a point, your hands were already mid-clap, eyes already on him.

he met your gaze.

just for a second.

you looked away first.

the more you saw of gotak, the more you saw him. it started with the little things—running into him by the vending machine after class, both of you reaching for the same pack of chips at the same time. you laughed, unsure of who should take it first.

“you can have it,” gotak said, smiling, though you could swear there was a flicker of something in his eyes. something that felt... not exactly like embarrassment, but not entirely casual either.

"no, it’s fine, you take it," you said, holding your hand out. "you reached first."

he paused, just staring for a second, before he gave a small shrug and grabbed it. “you sure?”

“yeah.”

you both took your snacks and stepped aside, awkwardly aware of how close you’d been. as you tried to avoid eye contact, you were almost certain your heart was racing. had he been looking at you like that... or was it just your imagination?

the awkward encounters started happening more often, though. a lot more often.

you’d bump into him in the hallway. near the library. at the school gates. suddenly, you felt like you were always in his orbit—and not just you. everyone noticed.

“you two are weirdly always in the same place at the same time,” juntae pointed out one day while you were grabbing lunch. “it’s like you’re following him around.”

you choked on your drink. “what? no. no, i’m not. i—he just happens to be there. i’m—just minding my business.”

juntae fixes his glasses, shrugging it off with a playful grin, though you could tell he wasn’t completely convinced. “alright, y/n. totally.”

and of course, baku caught on too. one day, while you were standing at the sidelines during practice, watching gotak and baku scrimmage, he glanced over at you, then at gotak, then back at you. then gotak. then you. he raised an eyebrow, clearly suspicious.

“hey,” baku said casually, tossing the ball to gotak. “you two are like, besties now, huh?”

gotak froze, looking at him, and then glancing over at gotak to avoid meeting baku’s gaze. “what? no. we’re not—”

“uh-huh,” baku grinned, spinning the ball on his finger. “sure, and i’m top of the class.”

during practice one afternoon, it happened.

gotak went up for a dunk, but his foot slipped awkwardly when he landed, and he crumpled to the ground with a loud thud. your heart dropped as you watched him clutch his ankle, wincing in pain.

“gotak!” you shouted, rushing to his side.

he grimaced, leaning against the floor, clearly in pain.

“dude, what happened?” baku called out, rushing over too. “you good?”

“i’m fine,” gotak muttered, trying to push himself up, but his face twisted in discomfort. “just sprained it, probably.”

sieun was quick to appear by your side, his usually calm demeanor shifting slightly as he assessed the situation. without missing a beat, he turned to you, a rare glint of something in his eyes. “maybe y/n can take him to the infirmary? we still have to clean up here.”

you blinked, unsure how to respond. “huh?”

sieun shot a pointed look toward baku, who was still oblivious to what was going on. his lips curved in the smallest, lopsided smirk. “baku doesn’t need your help right now,” he said, almost too casually, before giving a side glance at you.

you noticed baku didn’t catch the hint, just furrowing his brows at the situation. “wait, what? you seriously want y/n to drag him to the infirmary? you do realize that guy’s gonna crush ‘em under his weight, right? y’know gotak’s been having too much chicken—”

sieun’s eyes flickered with something that might’ve been amusement, though his expression stayed neutral. “go on,” sieun said, motioning to gotak, tone soft but firm. “help him out.”

you looked down at gotak, who was still struggling to stand, and it dawned on you that he was huge—much bigger than you. and the thought of dragging him all the way to the infirmary alone? absurd. awkward.

but you couldn’t exactly say no, not when everyone was watching and not when he was looking at you like he needed your help.

“you okay to walk?” you asked, kneeling down next to him.

“i think i’ll survive,” he grumbled, clearly embarrassed by the situation.

you offered him your hand. “come on, let’s get you there.”

he took your hand, and you tried not to notice how big his hand felt wrapped around yours. you both started walking, and although you tried to make it seem like a casual walk, every step felt like you were carrying the weight of his entire body.

sieun watched you both for a second, his gaze unreadable. the smallest of smirks tugged at the corners of his mouth.

the walk to the infirmary wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be, though you were still struggling to act normal when you finally helped gotak sit down on the clinic bed. his ankle was already wrapped up, but he kept fiddling with his fingers, looking down at his feet, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.

you sat across from him, the silence stretching for a moment as you both just sat there, waiting.

“uh, thanks for this, y/n,” gotak mumbled, his voice quiet in a way that was almost unlike him. he kept glancing at you, then back at his hands.

you tilted your head, a smile tugging at your lips. “no problem, seriously. i told you, i’m happy to help. anything for you,” you said, maybe a little more casually than you intended, your heart racing just a little.

he met your gaze then, eyes wide and slightly soft, a subtle smile playing at his lips. “anything?” he asked, teasing, but there was a hint of something more in his tone.

“well, yeah,” you replied, trying to sound more confident than you felt. “you’re my friend. i’ve got your back.”

there was a beat of silence as you both just looked at each other. gotak’s gaze lingered on you, his fingers still fidgeting, though a little more nervously now.

“you’re…you’re a really good person, y/n,” he said softly, his eyes lowering to his hands again, as if he was unsure of how to put his feelings into words.

you couldn’t help but feel your cheeks warm at the sincerity in his voice. “thanks, gotak. that means a lot coming from you.”

the moment stretched longer than it probably should have, but neither of you seemed to want to break it.

finally, he cleared his throat, looking up at you with that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. “so, uh…if you’re willing to do anything for me…”

you raised an eyebrow. “yeah?”

he shifted a little, suddenly a little more serious, though his usual playful grin still tugged at the corners of his lips. “you think you could—i don’t know—not make me fall for you?”

your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you swore you didn’t breathe. his words hung in the air, the playful edge still there, but there was something different about the way he said it. something that made your heart flutter in that puppy-love way that only people in the early stages of affection could understand.

“w-what?” you stammered, unable to hide the rush of warmth that spread across your cheeks. “you’re—you’re falling for me?”

he raised both eyebrows now, the teasing gone from his voice, replaced with something more earnest. “maybe,” he said with a small, sheepish grin, his gaze never leaving you. “maybe it’s too late for that. i think i’m already halfway there.”

you blinked at him, unsure how to respond, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. the air between you was suddenly thick with something you didn’t quite know how to define.

you broke the silence with a nervous laugh, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “well, i guess it’s not so bad to meet you in the middle if you’re already halfway there.”

gotak chuckled, his lips curving into that genuine smile you’d come to look forward to. “yeah, i guess it’s not, huh?”

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