Won't Ask You To Wait | Trent Alexander-arnold X Fem!reader

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

nooo trent teaching jude how to do the exercise thats his big brother fr 😭

(cr to @judetrent1 on tiktok)

I keep going over the world we knew (p.1)

a player 230/ Thanos/ Su-Bong x fem!reader fic

summary: “It had always been him and her against the world. But if you've been fighting against the world for years, how do you react when you suddenly realize that your best friend has become your world?”

warnings: none really except the usual Thanos/Squid Game stuff. Maybe slightly ooc Thanos? , Written in my notes app.

note: I am just SO in love with him and had to get this idea out of my head. I really hope you enjoy it and that there aren’t any major mistakes!! Also there will be a part 2, I am already working on it!

<3

It had been years since Choi Su-Bong had seen her. But there she was, standing in front of him in the same cruel, soulless environment. Player 230—or Thanos, as he liked to call himself —had never imagined that his past would catch up with him like this. And most certainly not in this place.

Thanos shook his head, his purple strands bouncing with the movement. He had avoided thinking about her. Hell, he had worked hard to bury all the memories of their childhood, to force himself to forget. But there she was. [Y/N], looking just as he remembered—except colder, more guarded. Features, that were so soft in his memory, now hardened. Sparkling eyes that had haunted his dreams on more instances than he cared to admit, now dull. But all in all she still looked as angelic to him as she had back then.

When their eyes met, a brief, silent acknowledgment passed between them. [Y/N]’s gaze hardened immediately, keeping the mental wall she had put up years ago firmly in place. Thanos had expected this. He knew she would hate him. Hell, he had wanted her to hate him. But it didn’t stop the flash of regret from hitting him like a sucker punch to the gut.

For a moment, the air between them thickened, and he felt the tension. But Thanos—Su-Bong—quickly decided to ignore his feelings. He wasn’t one to get all sentimental. Not now, and especially not in front of all these people.

"Still playing the silent game, huh?" he muttered, head dipping in her direction. The tone in his voice was smug, as though none of this bothered him. "Some things never change."

[Y/N] didn't even flinch. She glanced at him for a moment, then turned her back to him, choosing to stand away from the others. Her silence was a warning, but Thanos wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. He watched her closely, trying to gauge her every move, convincing himself that it was for the sake of the games and all , but he knew this was different. This wasn’t just about the games he currently found himself trapped in. This was about the game he had been playing all his life, far more personal than any debts could ever be.

—-

The first game had passed and Thanos found himself behind the finish line. The gunshots, the chaos, the fear—it was all a blur inside of his high brain. But even in the midst of his rush, Thanos hadn’t been able to help himself but keep his eyes on her. [Y/N]. She had survived, sharp eyes calculating her every step. He was just about to make a cocky comment about her tactics when suddenly his mind wandered back to the past.

That one memory.

He had been younger, somewhat quieter. A boy with too many troubles and just as many questions. And [Y/N], she had somehow always been the answer. Even when he had found himself going down the dark path of addiction [Y/N] had been the only person refusing to abandon him. She’d spent hours keeping him company, sitting on his bedroom floor, his pills scattered across the floor between them. And no matter what bullshit he had managed to come up with, she had always been right by his side, smiling in that soft, teasing way that made him want to say something—anything—just to hear her laugh. Back then, there had been no fear, no weight of the world. Just the simplicity of two weirdos being together.

However, now, it felt like he had never known that version of himself. Su-Bong, the boy who didn’t have to push her away, the boy who never stopped smiling because of her. It had always been him and her against the world.

But if you've been fighting against the world for years, how do you react when you suddenly realize that your best friend has become your world? Unwilling to confront this question and the weight it carried, Su-Bong had ran from her, terrified of what he was feeling.

[Y/N] hadn’t known the truth. She still didn’t.

—-

The rest of the day went by in a blur and sooner than later the second game arrived. As [Y/N] and her team were making their way from mini game to mini game, Thanos observed her closely, pushing other players out of the way to crouch down at the very edge of the circular track. It was time for [Y/N] to succeed in her designated game, Gonggi. As she crouched down in front of the little table with the pebbles, her eyes quickly wandered to scan her opponents, but never once did they land on him. Thanos could see the determination in her face, the sharpness in her eyes, but there was something else. It wasn’t just the game she was playing—it was him. She was avoiding him. And he hated it.

As Thanos took his place at the inner edge of the circle, [Y/N] could feel the pressure of the game weighing on her heart. The memory of that game, their shared past, gnawed at her. She didn’t understand why but all of sudden it felt just like yesterday that she had been sitting across from Su-Bong on the wooden floor of his childhood room. Even though [Y/N] had never directly stopped him from using drugs, she had always worried about the -now purple haired- boy.

Back then he had the careless habit of messily scattering his pills on the floorboards between them, claiming it to be “for the sake of transparency”. And so, in her own twisted way of taking care of him and keeping him away from over-consumption , [Y/N] eventually started playing Gonggi with the pills, establishing the rule that Su-Bong could only continue his consume if she lost. She never lost once.

Shaking her head to get rid of the memory, [Y/N] prepared her pebbles, her fingers swift and precise. Thanos , who had been reaching for his cross necklace, slowly tucked it back under his shirt as watched her carefully from his spot. "You’re still as good as you were," he shouted, his voice booming. However, [Y/N] didn’t look up. Her focus never wavering.

"Don’t talk to me, Su-Bong," she replied flatly, her voice colder than it had ever been.

That hurt.

It shouldn’t have or at the very least he should have expected it. He wasn’t someone who allowed emotions to control him, but there was something about her rejecting him—like a door slamming shut , shutting him out from everything they had been—that made him freeze. For the briefest moment, he wanted to reach out. To break that wall she had so meticulously built. But he didn’t.

Instead, he gave a half-hearted chuckle, leaning back with his usual arrogance. "Fine. I’ll just watch then. It’s not like I need to be nice to you to survive this."

As her hand caught the pebbles in the final move, [Y/N]’s eyes shot up at him, sharp as ever. "Keep thinking that, Su-Bong," she snapped, her voice cutting through the air. "Because this isn’t about who can survive. It’s about who’s willing to lose everything for a game. And I’m not sure you're ready for that."

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.

changed my theme !

it’s missing trent’s locs hours everyone clock in

Just seen the new beta squad x amp trailer 😈😈

I'm so excited bro I already have fic ideas for it

I've been waiting for that trailer ever since they announced they were in Atlanta Georgia

I've only seen like 2 seconds of agent but he looks so 😍

scenario 21 with thanos please? it doesn’t matter which is x or which is y!

SLEEPY GIRL

scenario 21: x falling asleep on y

parings: thanos/choi su bong x f!reader

warnings: none (insane for me i know)

The train was packed.

Not just crowded—packed.

Bodies pressed together, people swaying with the movement of the train, the air thick with the scent of sweat, coffee, and city life. You barely had the energy to care.

Twelve hours.

Twelve fucking hours on your feet, running from patient to patient, drowning in paperwork, barely a second to breathe. Your scrubs smelled like antiseptic, your feet ached, and the weight of exhaustion sat heavy on your bones.

You didn’t even remember finding a seat.

Didn’t remember lowering yourself onto the worn-out cushion, letting the rocking of the train lull you.

But you did remember the warmth beside you.

A firm shoulder, broad and steady.

You didn’t mean to lean into it.

Didn’t mean to let your head fall, cheek pressing against the soft fabric of a hoodie that smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and cologne.

But you did.

And whoever was sitting next to you…

Didn’t move.

Didn’t nudge you off, didn’t clear their throat in irritation, didn’t even shift uncomfortably.

They just let you sleep.

—

Thanos exhaled through his nose, staring blankly at the train doors as they rattled along the tracks.

It had been a long fucking day.

He barely wanted to go to his friend’s place in the first place, but Nam-Gyu had insisted. “Just come by, have a drink, chill for a bit,” he’d said. “You never go out anymore.”

And fine. He went. Smoked a bit, laughed a bit, but by the time he was on his way home, all he wanted was his bed.

Then you happened.

He wasn’t even paying attention at first. The train was loud, crowded, his music was playing low in his headphones—background noise against the chaos.

And then he felt it.

A weight.

Warm. Light.

Your head, resting against his shoulder.

He glanced down, taking in the way your eyelashes fluttered slightly in your sleep, the soft rise and fall of your chest, the way you looked like you’d hit your limit and just crashed.

He could’ve moved you.

He should’ve moved you.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he let you stay there, let you use him as your pillow, let the train rock you deeper into sleep.

And maybe he was going fucking soft, but something about it…

Felt nice.

The train slowed.

Thanos sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. His stop.

He turned his head slightly, glancing at you. You were still out, lips parted slightly, head heavy against him.

Carefully, gently, he shifted, sliding his arm between your head and his shoulder, easing you away from him. Your head lolled slightly, and then—

You blinked awake.

Your eyes, hazy and confused, met his.

“Oh my god.” Your voice was hoarse, thick with sleep as you shot upright, realization dawning. “I—Did I—Was I just—”

Thanos smirked. “Yeah.”

Your face burned. “Shit, I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t worry about it.” He stood up, shoving his hands in his hoodie pocket. “Looked like you needed it.”

You blinked up at him, still dazed.

And then you noticed—he was getting off at the same stop as you.

You scrambled to your feet, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Still. That’s—I mean, thanks, I guess.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You always fall asleep on random men?”

You rolled your eyes, stepping off the train beside him. “Only the ones with nice shoulders.”

Thanos huffed a laugh, glancing over at you. “Lucky me.”

You walked in silence for a moment, both of you heading towards the exit, the cool night air creeping in through the station.

When you reached the stairs, you hesitated.

He hesitated too.

You were going in different directions.

And yet…

Something lingered.

A strange pull, something you couldn’t name.

An invisible string, tying you together for just a moment longer.

You looked at him.

He looked at you.

“Well,” you exhaled, adjusting your bag strap. “Goodnight, Shoulder Man.”

His lips quirked. “Goodnight, Sleepy Girl.”

And then you both walked away.

In opposite directions.

But neither of you could shake the feeling that somehow, somewhere—

You’d see each other again.

jude and trent post match pics please🤞🥹

I am Motaz Mohamed ❤ a palestinian youngman from Gaza🍉🇵🇸, seeking to find safety and peace ☝️for my family if twenty members. We have been ❤🇵🇸🍉passing through all forms of torture and pain for almost ten months because of the war on Gaza.

Life is very miserable and tragic❤🇵🇸 as we are now deprived ❤🇵🇸🍉of all means of living. Drink water, healthy food health care and medicine❤🇵🇸 have become things 🇵🇸🍉❤of the past. We are dying dear friends. That is why I am asking you to help us break through this tough situation.Life in hot tents is incredibly sad and miserable. We are now experiencing the worst circumstances we have ever had in our life. The war has stolen happiness and life from us.

Please don't leave us alone in such dire times. Your kind contribution either through donating whatever you can or sharing my posts will be highly appreciated and valued.❤🇵🇸🍉

of course! anything that helps will be highly appreciated