Loml

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

this is for Trent girlies

Jude Bellingham x journalist!Reader. Drabble.

warning for language. no dialogue. jude is whipped.

Jude can feel blood rush in his veins, the gentle thrumming of his heart occupying his ears. Jesus, was it always this loud?

Cool. Calm. Collected. Weren't those the words that would always accompany his name? But God, right now he felt anything but.

Enamoured. Enraptured. Enchanted.

The waves of your sweet cadence of your voice washing over him, the tide so strong that it kept pulling Jude back into you. The dips in your pitch almost itching a scratch in Jude's brain that he didn't even know he had.

God he hopes he's hiding it well; pleads to some unknowing force that his face isn't plastered by the affairs of his heart.

You must be a new hire because he has never seen you before. Or at least he doesn't recall seeing you before. Yeah right, he almost scoffs to himself, like he could ever forget a face like yours; so bright and warm. Was the light fucking bending in your presence to you?

The soft curl of your lips has Jude in a daze. He wonders if they taste sweet, wonders if you taste sweet, almost sickengly like your perfume; peach and hints of vanilla. Sinful.

The pause in your voice snaps him out of his reverie. Your eyes were wide, eyebrows turned up expectantly, the microphone clutched in your grip was now turned towards him. Shit. You had asked him a question. What did you ask? Think Jude, think. Something about his goal tonight? How beautiful it was and if he had any comments on it?

He wanted to laugh. Beautiful? What did he know about beauty when he had only now met you? Jude felt like an inadequate apprentice, yearning to be under your tutelage so you could teach him. What business did a blind man have in describing a starry sky?

Jude licked his lips. He didn't want to disappoint you. So he spoke, stringing together words as best he could, not even sure what he was saying. You were smiling now, eyes crinkling near your edges as he spoke. Fucking angelic. You must have liked what he said, your light giggle almost sending him to heaven.

He wanted to hear it again, mind abuzz with how he could make that happen.

Jude felt himself be gently pushed. What was their problem? Couldn't they see he was busy? Dressing room, he heard someone mutter, almost paying no attention to those words. Everything else was so dull in comparison to you.

His feet were moving now despite his reluctance, eyes still stuck to the vision that you were, your shy wave of farewell clutching his heart in a death grip. Jude couldn't resist the smile that adorned his face, the sound of your giggle reverberating in his chest and echoing in his ears.

What had you just done to him?

spiderman!ethan brain rot is real

˗ˏˋ finnick odair ´ˎ˗

“good thing we’re allies, right?”

fics/one shots

slut!

in which finnick takes care of you after you survive a blood rain. aka finnick being an absolute gentleman ;)

safe and sound

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

new romantics

celebrating the anniversary of getting rid of the hunger games with your found family with a surprise for them in store as well.

evermore

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

blurbs

headcannons

Remedie

pairing: chad meeks martin x reader

summary: in which chad is the only one who can make you feel better no matter how you’re feeling.

warning: mentions of sh!, fluff, lmk if i should add more

requested!!

a/n: you are all so worth it. every single one of you. please remember that <3 also if you ever get triggered by the warnings i gave please don’t read this :(

The nightmares and thoughts still haunted you till this day. The masked killer stabbing you severely was all you could think about. Losing your loved ones had emotionally scarred you. And the guilt of surviving didn’t help either.

The events in woodsboro had effected you more than you would show. Way more.

Ever since you were little, Chad would always be the one to cheer you up whenever something happened. Scraped your knee when falling of the bike? Chad helped you. Your first boyfriend broke up with you? He was there to comfort you.

But he was hurting because of the events too. You didn’t want to be a burden for him with your problems.

So you had found a way to cope with everything. A not so healthy way. Every time someone asked you about the scars, you told them it was from the attacks. But as the scars grew fresher and bigger you knew it wasn’t a good as an excuse as it was before.

You had tried your best, tried everything you could. And finally your way of coping had slowly faded away after you had moved to New York. It was terrifying, sure. But you had the people you loved by your side. Nothing could go wrong.

Right?

Turns out it could. Ever since that day. That day when you were watching the news when hanging out with Chad, the guilt and trauma came back.

You started going back to your old ways.

Nobody noticed it. But Chad could see you slowly fade away. You became less happy, less talkative than you usually were. And it killed him that he didn’t know what was going on.

It killed him his best friend wouldn’t tell him anything.

You took any excuse you could to go to the bathroom or a room whenever your anxiousness and guilt got bad again. And you started hurting.

It wasn’t healthy and you knew it. It wasn’t good and you knew it. But there was nothing you could do about it. Nothing you could change about the way you handled things. And you most specifically didn’t want anyone else to know. And no one did.

Well, until today.

The entire group, including you, were at Sam’s appartement. She wanted everyone to be together, so if any one of you were going to get attacked, you wouldn’t be on your own.

You were watching the news, hoping that nothing had happened. It made you more anxious than it should’ve. Your leg was nervously bouncing up and down, while you were sitting next to Chad.

Chad noticed your anxiety. The way your hands were on your thighs as if you were protecting them.

“Y/n.” He put his hand on your thigh, with a comforting smile on his face. You turned your head to look at him, your eyes softening when meeting his.

“It’s okay. I’m here.” He said, his eyes trying to find some answer in yours. Your leg stopped bouncing and your anxiety faded away, but not entirely. You nodded, your lips curling into a smile.

“Thank you.” You whispered, afraid that if you were speaking louder, tears would escape your eyes. “Guys, dinner is ready!” Sam called from the kitchen.

Chad got up and held out his hand to help you up. But you didn’t move, you didn’t even look at him. A memory flashed before you, almost as if you were reliving it. Your mother had said that exact phrase that night. That night your entire family was murdered. All of them except for you.

Your eyes were heavily fixated on your thighs and arms, the urge growing and growing. “Y/n?” Chad questioned, worry lacing his voice. “I- uhm… I gotta go the bathroom.” You muttered, not daring to look him in his eyes. Because if you did, you wouldn’t go to another room. You would go wherever he would take you.

You had developed a soft spot, alongside with a big tiny crush, for him throughout the years. You wanted to be strong, wanted to not be a burden. But whenever you were with him, it’s like you had to tell him all your worries.

His beautiful eyes never failed to make you feel safe. But you didn’t want that right now. The urge to hurt was too bad. Without even waiting for his reply, you got up and made your way to Sam’s bedroom.

You closed the door, so eagerly wanting to hurt, that you forgot to lock the door. You took of your sweater, wincing in pain when the fabric brushed against your scars. You did the same with your jeans.

A mirror had caught your attention and you looked at it. Thoughts and flashbacks raced through your head.

You hadn’t realised how many minutes had past, when you heard the door open slightly. Chad’s head peeked out with his eyes closed. You could see him through the mirror and panicked, yelling his name.

You grabbed your sweater quickly as he apologised repeatedly.

“Y/n, I was getting worried and I-” He opened his eyes as you were just putting on your pants. He noticed the scars on your arms and thighs, which made his heart shatter into a million pieces.

He had seen them before a long, long time ago. When you had told him it were just from the attacks.

But he realised now it wasn’t from the attacks, it was because of the attacks. And you were doing it to yourself.

Embarrassment took over you as he was still staring at you, his usual sparkly eyes seeming heartbroken.

“Y/n…” He started, but you didn’t let him finish. “It’s nothing, Chad. Why did you even come in here?” You questioned, your lip quivering slightly.

He got in and closed the door behind him. Something you wished he hadn’t done. “Y/n, please, I want you to tell me when something is wrong… I’m worried about you.”

“It’s none of your business, Chad.” You answered, wrapping your arms around yourself for comfort. He didn’t have to say anything, but you could see in his eyes that he was disappointed in you. It was what you thought you saw at least.

In reality, he was disappointed in himself for not noticing that you were hurting sooner. Disappointed in himself for not noticing you were hurting yourself.

With the thought of him fearing you and hating you, all of the feelings and thoughts you had bottled up, came out .

“You really want to know what’s going on, Chad? I have been hurting myself. Every chance I get, I hurt.” You yelled, showing your arm full with scars.

“I could’ve done something, Chad. I could’ve saved them. I am a coward. A hurting, piece of shit coward!” Tears were streaming down your face as you ranted. You were breathing heavily, the emotions rushing through your veins. You weren’t thinking straight.

“I shouldn’t even be here right now. I don’t deserve it. Not after what what happened to them. I- I c-could’ve…”

It became too much for you. Admitting to hurting yourself impacted you more than you thought it did. You plopped on the bed and rested you head in your hands as you cried. Not caring about what Chad was thinking anymore.

Chad walked over to you and grabbed your arm gently. To your surprise, his fingers were scanning the scars, caressing them every so often. Your head perked up at this, your heartbeat increasing at his touch.

He planted a kiss as light as a feather on one of them, his eyes meeting yours in the process. Heat crept up your cheeks, the rant and embarrassment long forgotten.

He spoke to you in between kisses, “Y/n, I’m here for you.” Another kiss. “I will be here no matter what.” And another. “I care for you.” Another. “And I want you to be safe.”

He grabbed your other arm, caressing the scars gently. He wished he could’ve prevented from anything bad happening to you. And he wished he noticed your state sooner. Another kiss was planted against a scar.

Your heart was beating out of your chest. His kisses and gentle touches bringing you more comfort than you could’ve ever imagined.

It was as if his kisses helped you heal.

“Chad…” The proper sentence you wanted to say, couldn’t leave your mouth when he planted more kisses.

His gaze flickered to your face as he pulled away. You were only now aware close proximity between the two of you, your heart thumping out of your chest pathetically.

“You want me to stop?” Worry was lacing his voice as he said this. He didn’t want to go past your boundaries or even scare you off. You shook your head, a simple “No.” leaving your mouth.

You didn’t know what was coming over you. He comforted you in a way no one could. In a way no one did. Your hands made their way to his cheeks, cupping them ever so gently.

While you leaned in closer, you swore you heard him take in a sharp breath. The closer you were the more your heart beat sped up.

Your lips brushed against one another, both of you longing for this moment for as long as you could remember.

Before you knew it his lips were attached to yours, fitting against each other perfectly like puzzle pieces. The kiss was gentle and soft, both of you trying not to put in all the passion you were holding back all this time.

But your passion took ahold of you, your kiss getting more and more passionate by the second. You backed away for air, a smile making its way to both of your faces. He planted kisses on your collarbone, made his way down your neck and arm.

A giggle left your lips as he left gentle kisses on your scars once more. His smile widened at the sound, loving that he had cheered you up.

It was like his kisses and his comforting words helped you heal. Like he helped you heal.

He was what you could say, your remedie.

Would u be able to write a Peeta Mellark x reader where it takes place during Catching fire and the reader has been wanting to protect Peeta and they took her instead of Peeta after and she's the one who got high jacked by the capitol to hate Peeta?

TYSMSM FOR THE REQUEST HERE IT IS AND THERE WILL BE A PARTT TWO 🎀🎀

chad x reader who’s dewey’s god daughter

she’s been distant lately and after an incident at a frat party he comes to check up on her and she apologizes out of nowhere and he’s all confused and she just vents and cries about how guilty she feels

(maybe she’s the one who called dewey instead of gale and that’s why she feels guilty)

a shoulder to lean on

chad meeks x reader

notes: warnings: (underage drinking, mention of scars, slight mention of weed, drunk!reader) i think that's all?? ughh i don't really like this but the lack of chad fics is criminal

words: 2.6k

Maybe letting Tara get you a drink hadn't been such a good idea; the taste of pure vodka with a hint of lemonade burned your throat, making you involuntarily wince. You turned to Tara, who was smirking mischievously, clearly amused by your reaction.

"You alright there?" she asked, her voice tinged with amusement.

You coughed lightly, trying to regain your composure. "Yeah, I just wasn't expecting it to be that strong," your voice is slightly hoarse.

Tara chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "You said you wanted something strong, didn't you?"

You managed a weak smile, nodding in acknowledgment. You figured you'd get used to the taste, just like Tara seemed to have from the looks of it. Her pirate headwrap was about to fall off her head, and she had been talking and dancing with people she barely knew all night, even introducing you to three or four "new friends" she had made.

"Yeah, well, I didn't mean 'knock-me-off-my-feet' strong," you retorted. Tara laughed, taking a sip from your cup before walking back to a new target to befriend.

As Tara disappeared into the dancing crowd, you took another sip of the potent cocktail, determined to get through it. Trying to make your way to the couch where Mindy sat with her new girlfriend, you bumped into a few people along the way, each one giving you a dirty look or a friendly nod as the brim-filled drink spilled a bit every time you brushed past someone.

While trying to pat your dress dry, you didn’t pay any mind to Chad calling your name, only noticing his presence when you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned to see a tipsy-looking Chad with a cowboy hat on his head, the varsity jacket now long gone.

He reached out his hand to flick the cat ears perched on your head. "Nice ears," he slurred, grinning widely. You couldn't help but smile back at him.

“Nice hat,” he grinned, his hand moving to your waist, and the other one reaching for your cup. “I thought you were coming with Tara?”

“Yeah, she’s…” you gestured around the crowded room, “I might've lost her.”

Chad chuckled, his laughter slightly slurred from the alcohol. "Classic Tara," his hand squeezed your waist, making you look at him. "Well, you're not alone now. What are we drinking?" he asked, his eyes scanning the cup he'd just taken from you.

You shrugged. "Vodka and lemonade," you replied, gesturing to the cup. "Consider yourself warned, it's pretty intense." 

He gave you a look before chugging some of the drink, immediately cringing. You couldn't help but laugh at his reaction. "Told you," you teased.

Chad’s roommate approached, a cardboard costume covering most of his tall frame, and he rambled about how the loud music mixed with whatever shots Chad and him had done before made his head hurt. 

You couldn’t help but zone out, taking small sips of your drink and trying to ignore the taste as you stared at Chad. The whole friend group had been through so much in Woodsboro, and you couldn’t help but wonder why they didn’t seem to be hurting as much as you were. 

The stab scars on your left arm and your stomach felt like a constant reminder of that hospital. Of Dewey. As you continued to pretend to listen to Chad's roommate's complaints about his throbbing head, your mind drifted to the events of the past year.

The Woodsboro incident had left you scarred, both physically and emotionally. The loss of Dewey had hit you hard, and the memories of that terrifying night still haunted your dreams. You couldn't shake the feeling that the danger wasn't entirely over, and you had become more vigilant and cautious, constantly looking over your shoulder. 

Sam was the only one that knew about the nightmares that left you shaking and sweaty with fear about the masked killer and your godfather. And she made sure to reassure you that you weren’t going insane, that she also had those dreams. Sometimes, when you get in your head, you can feel the scars start to hurt again, you remember the pain, the fear, and the loss all too vividly. 

You only focused back on the conversation when you felt Chad’s arm wrap around your shoulders, and a single tear on your cheek, which you quickly wiped before the boys could notice it. The topic had changed from Ethan’s poor alcohol tolerance to Chad forgetting to take his dorm keys. 

Chad continued to talk to Ethan, while keeping his arm around you and his thumb tracing eight-figures on your shoulder. You leaned into his side, taking solace in his presence. The relentless pounding of the music and the swirling chaos of the party seemed to fade into the background as you felt the soothing rhythm of his thumb and the drink that, just like Tara promised, didn’t taste so strong now. 

Soon enough, Ethan was dragged away by a smiley Anika, begging him to dance because Mindy refused to. “What’s up?” Chad asked, moving your hair behind your ears and cupping your face.

“Hm?” “You’re really quiet,”

You sighed softly, gazing into Chad's eyes as you tried to remind yourself that this is just how Chad was, touchy and flirty. "Just tired, I guess," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. He nodded in understanding, his hand gently stroking your cheek. 

“Do you want to leave? I can walk you.” 

You looked around at the swirling, chaotic party and then back at Chad, his expression filled with concern. The offer was tempting, and you appreciated his consideration, but you couldn't help but feel that you needed to confront your fears and the memories that still haunted you.

"I appreciate it, Chad," you said, a soft smile touching your lips, "but I think I need to stay here a bit longer. I'm not ready to let this party beat me." you joked.

He eyed you for a second, hesitating, before letting go of you and giving you a smile. “Let’s find Tara, yeah?”

Finding Tara, giggly and sharing a joint with Mindy outside, also meant that Chad saw the beer-pong game you walked by on the way. “Ohhh, I see something I like.” he said, dragging you towards the table as the girls started a joke-telling competition in gibberish. 

Tara and Mindy's laughter echoed in the background as you and Chad approached the table. Two sweaty boys on one side of the table, dabbing each other up and chugging drinks to celebrate their win.

Chad grabbed a nearby ping pong ball and turned to you with a mischievous grin. "You ever played beer pong before?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

You chuckled, feeling a bit of adrenaline rush through you. “Uh… I've seen it in movies. Does that count?" you replied. He shrugged, “Eh, I’ll teach you.” He passed by a couple to stand on the opposite side to the boys, holding two ping pong balls in his hand with a grin. 

He handed you one of the balls, leaning closer so you could hear him talk. "Okay, so you see those cups over there?" He pointed to the triangle of red Solo cups arranged at the far end of the table, each filled with beer. "We throw the ping pong balls into their cups. If we make it, they drink. If they make it, we drink."

You stared up at him, feeling fuzzy because of the drink Tara had made you earlier and because of how close he was standing, his chest almost touching your back. “Ready?” you hesitated, not really trusting your tipsy aim, but Chad gave your hip a squeeze before focusing on the cups again.

Chad took over, having sobered up enough to not miss his shots. You, on the other side, missed enough shots to empty your cups, "Alright, don't worry," Chad reassured you, a playful grin on his face. "You're getting the hang of it. Just focus on the cups and take your time."

Feeling the alcohol begin to take its toll, you hoped your drunken state didn’t lead to an embarrassing display. You aimed for the last cup, missing by mere inches. The beer pong ball bounced off the rim and rolled across the table. Chad leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Don't worry, it's all in good fun. We can make a comeback."

His warm breath against your skin sent shivers down your spine, and for a moment, you forgot about everything else – the scars, the nightmares, and the chaos of the party. It was just you and Chad, engaged in a playful game with the world fading away. 

And just like that, it downed back on you, all at once.

Chad must have noticed the change in your demeanor because he gently took your hand, his touch offering a reassuring anchor in the midst of the emotional storm. “Hey, hey, it’s fine. It’s just a game.” 

Your eyes met Chad's, his gaze warm and understanding, but you could see the concern etched in his expression. The chaos of the party seemed to intensify around you, the laughter and music becoming a cacophony that threatened to drown you. The weight of the past year bore down on you, the memories of that terrifying night in Woodsboro, the loss of Dewey, and the constant guilt that ate at you for calling Dewey for help.

He wrapped an arm around you, “You drank too much,” he said, putting down the cup you were holding because of your last miss. “Let’s get some air.”

Chad led you away from the beer pong table, guiding you through the crowd of partygoers. The night air felt cool against your skin as you stepped outside. The chaotic sounds of the party faded behind you, and he led you outside with a strong hold on your hand, and an arm around your waist.

You took a deep breath, trying to clear your mind and steady your racing heart. "I'm sorry,"

“It’s okay,” he whispered, his voice soft and reassuring. He gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face. "You don't have to apologize for anything. We all have our moments."

He didn’t say anything when you stayed quiet, looking down as he walked you to your dorm. Once you reached the building, Chad stopped and turned to face you, “Keys?” 

You fumbled around in your bag for a moment before finally locating your dorm keys. You handed them to Chad with a grateful smile. "Thanks," you said, still feeling a bit overwhelmed. 

You stepped inside your dorm, and Chad followed. The room was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos of the party. You sat down on your bed, and Chad took a seat beside you. He didn't say anything for a moment, allowing you to collect your thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, he rubbed your back, “Why?”

“For Dewey.”

Chad's expression softened, and he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Hey, don't blame yourself for what happened to Dewey. None of this was your fault," he said in a soothing tone, his thumb gently rubbing your shoulder. "We all lost someone we cared about last year, and we're all still trying to come to terms with it. It's okay to feel the way you do."

Wiping at the tears that covered your face, you hiccuped as Chad stared at you. "I know, but sometimes it's just hard to shake that guilt, you know?" 

“None of us blame you for what happened. Dewey was trying to protect us all, including you.”

Chad pulled you into a comforting hug, his arms wrapping around you securely. "We all have those thoughts, but it doesn't change what happened. You're not alone in this, okay? We're here for you."

He pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hands like he’d done earlier that night. “Why haven’t you told us about this?”

“Sam knows,” your voice broke as you shrugged your shoulders, “but I didn't want to burden everyone with it. We've all been through so much, and I didn't want to add to the weight on your shoulders."

Chad's eyes held a mixture of concern and understanding. "You're not a burden, and you shouldn't have to go through this alone," he said softly. "and we've got your back. That's what friends are for." 

He kissed your forehead, lingering for a few seconds before pulling back to give you a small smile. “You know we all love you, right?” you stayed quiet, not really knowing what to say. You’d distanced yourself from the group since the murders, not enough for them to stop talking to you, but seeing their faces made you go back to that night.

"I do," you finally whispered, your voice trembling with a mixture of gratitude and sorrow. "I love you all too."

Chad's thumb gently wiped away the tears from your cheeks, “I’ll make you something to eat, yeah? So the alcohol goes away a bit.” you nodded and he kissed where your tears had been just seconds before he wiped them.

While Chad prepared a simple meal, you took the opportunity to wash your face and change into more comfortable clothes. When you returned to the kitchen, the aroma of grilled cheese sandwiches filled the air, making your stomach rumble. He handed you a plate with a smile, and you both sat down at the small table in your dorm room. 

“Thank you," you said, your voice filled with genuine appreciation. "I don't know what I would've done without you tonight."

Chad smiled, "Of course,” 

As you both finished your sandwiches, Chad cleared the plates and put them in the sink. You watched him, a soft smile playing on your lips. "You're a great cook," you remarked, genuinely impressed.

Chad chuckled, leaning against the kitchen counter. "Well, I've had a lot of practice. Ethan is a horrible cook."

You appreciated his lightheartedness and humor. It was moments like these that made you feel like you could truly escape the darkness that had been haunting you. "I'm glad you're in my life, Chad."

His smile widened, and he approached you, gently cupping your face. "I'm glad I'm in your life too," he said, his voice filled with warmth. He squished your cheeks with his hand, pushing you to chuckle as he showered your face with kisses. “So, so glad.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, and he pulled you back in for another hug. After a while, you both pulled away from the hug, but Chad kept his arm around your shoulders, his touch grounding you. 

“So, what now?" you asked, looking up at Chad, feeling a sense of peace you hadn't felt in a while.

"Well, we could watch a movie, or we could just sit here and talk. It's up to you." 

You considered your options for a moment, feeling the weight of the past year slowly lifting from your shoulders. 

"A movie sounds good," you finally replied, a genuine smile gracing your lips as Chad played with your fingers before standing up to lead you to the couch. He places another lingering kiss on your forehead as you sit together, his arms wrapped around you and, just for a moment, you think about how he makes you feel safe, how his presence eases the ache in your heart, even if just for a little while.

The two of you settled on the couch, wrapped up in blankets, with a comforting movie playing in the background. Chad's arm remained around your shoulders, offering silent support as you both immersed yourselves in the storyline. Occasionally, he'd squeeze your shoulder or run his fingers through your hair, a wordless reassurance that he was there.

girls be aware 🥶

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

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

i mean just look at them 🙏🙏