calmelody

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I just want bongsu to find his own peace without sabotaging gyeonu's

Is that really too much to ask

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Seongah, are you asleep?

HEAD OVER HEELS 견우와 선녀 (2025)

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There were two beds, but she fell off onto him

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It's not just the height difference. It's the size difference🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻

Gyeon U/Choo Young Woo is a bear of a guy and Soong Ah/Cho Yi Hyun is quite literally a Little Cute Fairy

His hand and her face-

This was a really sweet scene btw, with the mum sideeyeing them so hard in the back lmaooo

[calmelody]

bogummy 2

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so many people understand bongsu easily, yet so little understand gyeonu

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[calmelody]

࿔⋆ LIKE LIVING

dad!hwangjunho x mom!pregnant!reader

based on this request

words: 1.3k

warnings: adoption. pregnancy. childbirth. season three spoilers. soft domestic life<3

a/n: might be the last request i write like this—junho discovering the baby with his girlfriend/wife—because it’s starting to feel a bit repetitive. however, if you guys want small scenes of what dad!junho looks like when the baby’s older, I’M DOWN FOR IT OKAY. you can also find more in: still ours. new dad.

enjoy! :)

you and junho met in winter, years ago—you were at the same café. it wasn’t the first time you saw him there, but he always passed through, coffee in hand, never staying long. never long enough. until one day, you went for him. right after he took his coffee—

“hey!” you had said, a little louder than intended. because the way he looked at you—he seemed on guard. not afraid, just ready. like he’d been waiting for this moment but didn’t know from who, or why. “sorry,” you added quickly, stepping a little closer—not too close, just enough so you didn’t have to raise your voice. “just—i see you, often, there,” you said, pointing awkwardly to the café window. “and […]” you were awkward. painfully awkward. and he was just there, listening to you, eyes steady like he hadn’t talked to anyone in years. “so yeah,” you said, because the silence was too much. “i’m sorry. i probably don’t have time for this anyway.” your lips pressed into a tight line as you turned and slipped back into the café. but maybe two days later, he sat beside you. coffee in hand.

“the light is really good,” he said.

and from there, it just… went. small coffee dates. soft mornings. you told him about the films you loved. he told you he read sometimes. you told him he should think about himself more. he told you he couldn’t. and still—you helped. without meaning to, you helped so much. he found comfort in you. a shoulder when he was too tired. his hand finding yours when he got anxious. his palm at your back to ground you in crowded rooms.

you grew safer and safer with each other.

so safe that one day, he asked you to marry him. so safe that he told you about his brother—not everything, but enough. so safe that he showed you his wound. so safe that he explained. so safe that he rested his head on your shoulder and cried. so fucking safe that when you handed him a positive pregnancy test, saying nothing, he didn’t even hesitate—he just looked at you, confused, and then hugged you so hard your feet left the ground. “oh my god—” he breathed, voice full, body shaking. “we’re having a baby.”

and you nodded, crying, just because you were happy. he moved with you through your pregnancy—slow, careful. his hand would brush your belly even before it started showing. his lips too, gentle and quiet. “hi there,” he’d whisper at night, like a lullaby. “talking to you early so you get to pick favorites.” you pinched his ear.

“ow, hey— that hurts!” he gasped, as if a tiny pinch could kill him. it was around three months in. you were craving rice and sauce, early morning. junho was already up, making breakfast. when he heard your footsteps in the hallway, he turned around.

“hi love,” he said softly, moving toward you like it was a dance he’d practiced for years. “slept well?” his lips brushed your temple. his hands rested over your belly. you nodded, still sleepy. “need to grab a few things from the store. you wanna come before it gets crowded?”

“oh yes please.”

you went, got what you needed, paid. really, it was such a small, normal thing—barely took time. but when you returned—oh god. you stepped inside, slipping off your shoes, and junho was already moving with the grocery bags—until he froze.

“june? you okay?” you asked, coming closer—only to freeze too. “what the—” your hand found your belly, as if to make sure it was still there. he didn’t speak. just opened a black envelope that had been left by the door.

inside: a golden card. player 222. winner. your eyes jumped from the baby, to the card, back again.

“just—it, oh my god.” you breathed, steadying yourself against junho’s shoulder. his hand found your waist, holding you tight—but his eyes were on the card. he pulled it out. a credit card. and then he looked at you—lips parted, eyes wide, searching for answers he knew weren’t there. “is it from the fucking games?” you asked. he nodded. unsure, but still—he nodded.

you couldn’t even believe it. your free hand covered your mouth. his hand—the one not holding your waist—moved to your cheek, brushing tears you hadn’t even noticed were falling. and junho—he was speechless. he always had something to say, even if small. but now, nothing. you just stood there. with a baby that wasn’t yours. with another one not yet born. his forehead rested against yours, eyes closed, like even they had run out of words. minutes passed. you breathed out.

“okay,” you whispered, wiping your tears. stepping back to meet his eyes. “okay. so… what do we do now? how much is on that card?” and junho—he already knew. he’d seen it before. the kind of money gihun walked away with. and from his face, you could tell—it was a lot.

you moved eventually. junho strapped the baby to his chest, walked beside you, checked the balance on the card. and you just looked at each other. fucking stared. two days later, you used it. for diapers. for the little girl who’d been left at your door.

you had talked—god, you’d talked so much. sleepless nights, whispering about what this meant. you were three months pregnant. in six months, you’d have two babies. the one thing that was clear: the money from the card, knowing where it came from, would be for the baby. only the baby.

you asked for help—how to manage two. leaned on your parents, your sister. junho apologized, knowing no one from his side could help. you asked your friends. good ones. the ones who didn’t hesitate. you filled out paperwork. because the baby didn’t have any. you named her—hyejin.

it was like meeting your baby early. way too early. but you were okay. because you knew. because you had time to prepare. even if, some nights, it was hard. even if you felt distant. disconnected. but then—love arrived. quietly. in the middle of the afternoon, when she fell asleep on your chest. at night, when she cried and junho was holding her, but she still wanted your voice.

junho kept taking care of you. you were still pregnant, still heavy, still tired. he massaged your ankles when they hurt, even with hyejin drooling all over him. you laughed.

“she’s drooling, you know?”

“no way??” he gasped, fake offended. “yah, that’s not fair!” you squealed, kicking your feet lightly. careful not to disturb hyejin. “you’re not fair—” he muttered, hand over his chest, pretending to be wounded. “i’m pregnant. i have every right.” he laughed through his nose, the quiet kind of laugh that meant he was totally defeated. oh, and junho—he didn’t hesitate with her. held her like she was the most fragile, most precious thing. maybe it was instinct. maybe guilt. maybe just love.

sometimes he whispered, “you’re so safe, baby.” other times, he said nothing at all—just held her. watched the sky shift through the windows. and you—pregnant, heavier each day—watched them. and you loved her. not because you had to. not because you chose to. but because love came anyway.

then the delivery came. quietly. middle of the afternoon. hyejin was at your dad’s—he insisted. the due date was near and you needed rest. then you felt it. the warm trickle down your leg.

“junho—” you called, not loud. not scared. just needing. hours later. crying. sweating. clinging. she came. alive. strong.

you still remember junho’s face when he held her—wrecked with wonder. “she’s here,” he whispered, forehead against yours. “you did it.”

they’re different, your daughters. hyejin is quiet. watchful. like she’s already survived too much, even if she won’t remember it. she clings to junho’s hand when the world gets loud. buries into your lap when strangers come too close.

your newborn is louder. impatient. she wants warmth, milk, everything, now. but her eyes—god, her eyes. they look just like junho’s. wide and calm and full of something still.

some days, it feels like a miracle. other days—it just feels like living.

masterlist

[calmelody]

࿔⋆ SEND BICEPS

hwangjunho x wife!reader

words: 480

warnings: none!

enjoy! :)

it had been a long day. rude clients at the library where you worked, tucked away in a quiet corner of one of those busy streets.

you were standing behind the counter, just a few minutes left until your shift ended. your feet ached from standing too long without a proper break. the sun was low now, casting soft orange and pink shades through the windows. you pulled out your phone, knowing there weren’t many customers around this hour. without really thinking, your thumb hovered over his name—because you always reached for his name when your mind was somewhere else.

you: feeling bad. send biceps please.

you hit send before you could second-guess it, a little smirk tugging at your lips as you stared at the screen, waiting. his reply didn’t take long—it never did.

junho: you know i’m at work right?

junho: i mean, i still can—if it’s that serious.

you: kind of an emergency. like medical emergency.

then, the message was marked as read. for a few minutes, nothing. until your phone buzzed once. you opened it immediately.

a mirror selfie. he was in the work bathroom, the fluorescent light harsh and unforgiving. his sleeves were rolled up just past his shoulders, fighting for their dear life. his bicep was bold. flexed. unapologetic. and the caption?

junho: if i get fired, i’m blaming you.

you: those biceps might just save humanity.

you: man, i’m half cured already.

junho: need the left one to finish the job?

before you could even reply, another picture arrived. the left arm, just as flexed, with that same little smirk tugging at his lips.

you: fully cured.

junho: you’re lucky i love you or i’d start charging for these.

junho: like minimum three compliments per bicep next time.

you: bold of you to assume i don’t already have those lined up.

junho: oh yeah? go on then. pick your favourite muscle.

you: you’re unreal.

junho: and somehow still real enough to pick you up in twenty minutes.

junho: get you things. i’m making dinner tonight.

and somehow—just somehow—your day was a little bit better after this. and the first thing he asked when he saw you? he asked if you were okay.

masterlist

[calmelody]

me teaching the baby about her family tree

[calmelody]

—“Come back alive”

Pairing: Hwang Jun-ho x eventuallover!fem!reader

Summary: he never told you how he really felt about you, believing you deserved more than a man consumed with finding his brother and that island. But now, with the island gone, he returned home to you, and did what he should’ve done a long time ago—truly be with you.

Content: very brief mentions of s3 events, happy endings for you and Jun-ho, childhood best friends to lovers, Jun-ho having emotional conflict, kisses, a little angsty(?), fast-paced, English isn't my first language, mistakes should be present, not proofread, sorry!

Word count: ~ 1.1k

You were his everything long before he ever admitted it to himself.

Jun-ho always knew that. Knew that since you were kids, voices hoarse from screaming each other’s names across the playground.

You two had grown up together, attached at the hip. Kids who met on a rainy schoolyard and never let go. He scraped his knees, and you were the one who washed the blood away. You got your heart broken in middle school, and he showed up with a small boquet he made with flowers he picked and told you that anyone who didn’t love you was a damn idiot.

As time passed by, the world changed—got colder—but you didn’t. Or maybe you did, in the same way he did. But you still looked at him like he mattered when he didn’t even feel real to himself anymore.

When In-ho disappeared, it was like the whole city turned to grey static. People offered "sorry"s, a few helped at first, but you—you stayed. You looked through police reports with him, stayed up late when he looked through footage frame by frame, and asked anyone you thought had a chance of knowing In-ho.

You never once asked him to stop. Never once told him to move on like everyone else did. You just looked at him with that patient grief in your eyes that mirrored his, and it made something hurt deep in his ribs, something too full to name.

There were nights when he wanted to say it. You’d be sitting on his couch with cups of cheap convenience store coffee, exhaustion hanging between you, and he’d look at your face—tired, steady—and want to say, I love you.

But how could he? How could he look you in the eye and ask for your heart when his was still buried under the weight of his missing brother? When he still woke up cold in the middle of the night from that dream? The cliff, the gunshot, the ocean.

He thought if he really said it, if he really let himself have you—you'd feel like a placeholder. Like comfort he ran to because his brother was gone.

And you deserved so much more than being second to his grief.

He was terrified. That loving you meant dragging you into his shadows. That you’d smile that soft smile of yours and nod, but never really feel like you meant enough to him. Because how could you be, if he hadn’t made peace with himself yet?

But he never stopped thinking about it. About you. About the things he didn't say.

And maybe you knew. Maybe that’s why you never said anything either. You never pushed. Never asked. But you were there. You were always there. You waited.

—

The night before Jun-ho left for the island again, he stood outside your apartment for five full minutes, just staring at the door. He thought about turning around. About leaving without seeing you. Maybe it would hurt less that way.

But when you opened the door—like you already knew he was coming—he forgot all of that.

You didn’t ask why he was there. You just let him in.

He stood there in your tiny living room, his eyes didn’t meet yours right away. “...I'm leaving tomorrow.”

You swallowed, your hand tightening slightly on the edge of your sleeve. But you were calm. “So you came to say goodbye.”

He hated the sound of that word in your mouth. Goodbye. It wasn’t supposed to sound so final.

“I came because I didn’t want to leave without seeing you.”

That’s when you reached for him.

A hand to his chest first, gentle and warm. Then your other hand cradled the side of his face, thumb brushing over his cheekbone like you were checking to see if he was real. Your eyes flicked to his lips for just a second.

That was all it took.

You kissed him.

Slow.

Soft.

He froze.

Not because he didn’t want it—but because he did, he wanted you ever since he was fifteen and you tackled him during a stupid pillow fight. But because he was afraid. Afraid that this would be the only kiss he would ever share with you. Afraid that he might never get the chance to have you in his arms again if he left today.

But you didn't kiss like that. You kissed him like you knew there would be more. Like you were certain he'd come back.

Then he melted.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him. He kissed you back as his chest pressed against yours, and it felt like home.

When you pulled away, your forehead rested against his.

“Come back alive,” you whispered.

He didn’t answer for a second. He just held you. Closed his eyes and imagined your life together—quiet kisses in soft-lit rooms, laughter over dinners, long nights where the only war was deciding what movie to watch.

“I will,” he finally said, and he hated how much his voice wavered.

—

The next day, he was gone with Woo-seok and the team

He could still feel the touch of your kiss. He leaned against the boat, eyes scanning the horizon, but all he saw was your face.

He thought about you the whole time they drifted on the ocean, trying to find the island. He thought about your laugh. He thought about how you never told him not to go. You just asked him to survive.

And he tried. When everyone on the boat nearly died from a betrayal. When he got the confrontation he wanted with In-ho, moments before the island exploded.

And he came back for you.

—

The second he saw you again, standing in that same doorway, he dropped everything and wrapped his arms around you.

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t need to.

Your fingers curled into his back like you were afraid to let go. His lips found your shoulder, your temple, your cheek, then finally your lips.

And this time, it wasn’t slow. It wasn’t hesitant. It was years of ache and longing and quiet waiting that finally let loose.

He pulled back only once, to whisper the words he’d carried for so long.

“I love you.”

You smiled, voice breaking, but eyes steady. “I know.”

He was home.

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࿔⋆ CAREFUL WITH THOSE HANDS

or hwang junho who is obsessed with your hands

words: 577

warnings: hands appreciation, explicit content under the cut.

enjoy! :)

at first, he just liked how they fit in his. nothing big, just when you passed him your phone or a cup. if his hands were bigger than yours, he loved how they seemed to disappear in his.

then, naturally, he started reaching for yours. his thumbs would absentmindedly brush over your knuckles. if you were in public, his pinky would brush yours, sometimes even intertwining with it. he doesn’t say it, but he wants to hold them all the time.

when you’re alone, sitting on the couch next to him, his eyes would often flicker to your hands. whether you’re holding a book or typing across your keyboard. sometimes, he’d reach for your free hand, and you’d tease him, “you really like holding hands, huh?” he’d look at you, then at your hand, and just murmur a quiet “yeah.”

he loves playing with your hands. sometimes tracing patterns inside your palm, twisting your fingers carefully, squeezing them gently as he holds them. or tapping the rhythm of a song on the back of your hand with his fingers.

he definitely got you matching rings. he loves how your hands look with them on, saying they make them more attractive.

you just know he is obsessed with your hands even if you don’t say it out loud.

he has this habit of caressing your hand before bed, whether it’s massaging your palms or just brushing the back of it with his fingers. sometimes, he’ll even kiss your hand before falling asleep.

he just loves your hands on him, whether it’s when you pass by, brushing his shoulder, or when your hand finds his. when your hand is on his jaw during a kiss, or how they make their way under his shirt. sometimes, he’ll shift your hand so it rests against his throat while you kiss him.

nsfw

once, he got hard just from looking at your hand. he couldn’t help it—the way they rested on his thigh during a movie. he shifted in his seat, cleared his throat, and pulled you a little closer.

he loves how your hands look around his cock, whether you’re next to him or kneeling in front of him. sometimes, his gaze flickers to your hand. he can’t help it.

he had sucked your thumb while you were in control. nothing big, but he loved it.

if your hands drift between your thighs when you’re excited, he’d watch them, trailing kisses along the way before taking your hand in his, lacing your fingers together.

masterlist

requests are open!

[calmelody]

࿔⋆ BLURRED WORLD

hwang junho x ex!pregnant!reader

based on this request

warnings: reader is pregnant but alone. inho is referred as inho even in the games. breakup. normal squid game stuff.

words: 1.4k

a/n: not sure about if this is good honestly. hope i did well. might do a part 2 because i need more of hwang junho. also, didn’t focus on the chubby reader hope its okay? just so you know anyone can read this!! didn’t put any specific mention of body image okay?

enjoy! :)

the world blurred—just like it did that day when junho told you he didn’t want to be with you anymore. or maybe he just couldn’t. you didn’t quite catch it at first, his voice muffled, his words barely clear through the lump in your throat. tears welled up in your eyes, even though he wiped them away gently.

“i’m not there enough,” he had said quietly, voice heavy with regret. “i know i hurt you… and i’m sorry.” it was true. you were hurt, and you felt so alone. but god, how you loved him.

and then the world blurred again—when the second line appeared on the pregnancy test you took that afternoon. outside, the rain was falling softly, the kind of rain you liked—the kind that junho would have used as an excuse to rest his head on your thigh. but now, the rain kept falling, and you were alone. the only thing resting on your thigh was a pregnancy test and the wet tracks of tears. no warmth. no hand. no head.

two months later, the world blurred once more. you stood in the middle of a vast field, surrounded by people in blue jackets, numbers stitched on their backs. the last thing you remembered clearly was the paper card. your hands trembled as you dialed the phone, giving your name and birthday. you don’t remember how the suited man approached, or what he said. you don’t remember skipping your doctor’s appointment for the baby growing inside you. everything had become a blur, time folding into itself over the months. you don’t remember how you made it through it all. the field felt endless. your legs heavy and slow, heart pounding in your chest. maybe it was the weight of the baby, or the anxiety that clung to you after the first shot, the screams, the blood. your shoulders felt heavier now, carrying something invisible but heavy. but you made it. above the final line—you made it.

when you returned to the dorms, people clustered in small groups, moving toward the man who had screamed before—player 456. you stayed apart, not because you wanted to, god no, but because your legs still felt unreliable. as time passed, people quieted down, ate, waited. you found yourself sitting near a group of middle-aged men. you listened, pretending to not be obvious. one caught your gaze and laughed softly. you hadn’t thought anyone could laugh here.

“hey, you just gonna stare all day?” his voice was light, teasing, not mean. you looked up at him just as he tapped the seat beside him and 456. “come here.”

your legs moved before you could say no. you sat. “we were just exchanging names. what’s yours?” “y/n,” you said, a small smile breaking through. they all nodded, repeating their names for you to remember. no one asked why you were here. no one said it aloud, not yet. not now.

as the hours passed into night, gihun told you to be careful during guard duty, that people were desperate, dangerous even. “i’ll start,” he said. jungbae promised to join him. sleep didn’t reach you, as it had for months. junho’s voice echoed in your mind, always soft and careful:

“y/n, please. listen to me, okay?” his voice cracked with something raw, something fragile. when gihun reached for you to take his guard shift, you nodded, standing only to sit a little farther from your bed. inho was awake beside you, silent and steady, saying little. you didn’t speak either. but you noticed him glancing your way, lips twitching like he wanted to ask something.

you beat him to it. “why are you here?” your voice gentle, curious, no threat. you didn’t look at him, but you could feel his eyes on you. he cleared his throat, hesitant. “my wife… she’s sick,” he said quietly, voice cracking just a bit. “and pregnant. i need more money for her treatment.” you just nodded. sorry felt too easy.

“you’re pregnant, right?” he asked, eyes steady on you. you met his gaze. “how do you know that?” your walls felt like they were crumbling. “the way you stand. my wife used to stand like that in the beginning.”

you swallowed hard. “you’re alone?” you nodded again. “the dad doesn’t know. we aren’t together anymore.” he didn’t press, just waited. “i didn’t choose it. he said he wasn’t there anymore. he saw my pain. he was right, but still… i think i preferred when he came late at night, wrapped his arms around me, rather than nothing.” inho nodded, not because he didn’t care, but because that’s what you needed. someone to listen. and you talked, because you hadn’t said any of this out loud for months.

after a while, you exhaled sharply. “fuck, i might die here,” your voice trembled, scared. you didn’t notice a tear slip from your eye until it landed cold on your thigh. “no one knows he’s the dad, you know,” you chuckled, unsure why. “you wanna tell?” inho asked. “you wanna know? what’s the point if i die here anyway?” your voice cracked. silence. heavy silence. he didn’t reach for you or speak. you thought he might’ve stopped breathing, like his breath was caught in his throat. you bit your lip. “sorry,” you finally whispered. “i’m just afraid.”

“it’s normal.” he said softly. you nodded, wiping away the tears. “junho.”

“what?” his voice came too quickly.

“junho. hwang junho. that’s his name.” inho didn’t say anything at first. maybe he was talking to himself. your back was to him, but you could feel the change. the way his walls cracked open. you stayed quiet.

the air between you grew heavy—too much air, or maybe not enough. inho felt like he couldn’t breathe, like his lungs wouldn’t fill. even if he wanted to speak, the words were trapped. gihun wasn’t sleeping. he never really was. he heard everything, but said nothing. as if this moment was just between you two.

the air shifted. just like that. you didn’t notice yet. maybe you never would. when the other games began, gihun stayed close, inho was watching silently from behind you, keeping you safe in his sight. they both made sure you ate. “want some?” gihun asked once. inho watched over you in small, careful ways during the night. never obvious, never too close—just glances, making sure you slept.

when mingle came, he grabbed your wrist—not gently. no, because he needed you to survive this. at least this. for him—not for himself, but for junho. because he knew his little brother still cared. junho never stopped caring about inho. when “two” was announced, inho didn’t grab you. he couldn’t. gihun did. when you finally reached the room, you exhaled, needing breath, scared to the core. “you okay?” gihun asked, checking.

you nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks. he didn’t wipe them away. because sometimes you just need to feel them. he crouched down in front of you, smiling softly. “you both gonna be okay. okay?” he lied, because the truth was, he didn’t know. you never asked how he knew you were pregnant. you didn’t have to. it didn’t matter.

stepping out, your eyes searched for someone—anyone—you didn’t know. from afar, inho’s eyes found you again. you didn’t see how his shoulders dropped slightly, feeling lighter. when he reached for you, he didn’t hug you. he just asked quietly,

“are you okay?” the question felt almost dumb. you didn’t answer, but your eyes said everything.

the next thing you knew—after half your group left for the rebellion—was the fresh city air, buzzing sounds in your ears as someone carefully unfolded your tied wrists. “oh dear, are you okay?” an old woman asked, helping undo your binds. you looked around, confused. so lost.

you still had no money. no one. nothing. but you were alive. not safe. just alive—for now.

masterlist

requests are open!

tag list (open also): @namgyucat @namsgyu @threerxcha

[calmelody]

[calmelody]

࿔⋆ LIKE MY LOST UNCLE!

dad!hwang junho x mom!reader

based on this request

words: 970

warnings: toddler innocence. soft family moment. mention of inho not being here. mom reader. dad junho. junho is a girl dad.

enjoy! :)

it was one of those late afternoons where you were alone with your little girl. junho was working his usual day shift. today, you’d stopped by a small dog care center. she hadn’t stopped talking about it for months. you and junho had discussed it, and deep down you both knew. it was time.

your daughter had chosen a small, fluffy puppy, all big eyes. when she looked up at you like it was finally real, eyes shining, you just nodded. you could see it in the way she hugged you: she was excited. you let her choose the name. even if it sounded like something a three-year-old would come up with, you didn’t care.

you didn’t bring the puppy home right away. there were still papers to sign, supplies to buy. but you would definitely be back. “so, what name are you thinking sweetheart?” you asked as you helped her into the car. she paused, thoughtful, like it was the most important decision of her life. maybe to her, it was. and when she finally told you, just as you finished buckling her in, you froze. you hadn’t expected that.

she had asked once before about “the man in the picture next to appa,” the one in the living room. but you hadn’t known it had stayed with her. you tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked at her gently.

“that’s beautiful, baby,” you said softly.

“it’s because of my lost uncle!” she said brightly, like she somehow understood just how much inho meant to junho. how deep a place he had held in her father’s heart. the drive home was filled with her laughter and chatter, explaining all the tricks she was going to teach her puppy.

and in that late afternoon, when junho finally returned, tired, he found you and your little girl curled up on the couch, flipping through a picture book. as soon as she heard his footsteps, she was off the couch and running toward him. her small feet slapped softly against the floor.

“appa!” she shouted. junho caught her mid-air, lifting her easily and kissing her cheek.

“hi, baby,” he smiled, covering her face in warm, gentle kisses. she giggled, squirming. “stoppp,” she said, little hand resting on his shoulder.

“how was your day?” he asked her, walking toward the couch where you waited. “we saw puppies!” she said proudly. junho leaned down to kiss you briefly, his other hand brushing your cheek. “hi, love,” you said.

“you saw puppies? no way,” he said, smiling at her. his eyes flicked to you, soft, tired, full. “hi,” he repeated gently, thumb grazing your jaw as he sat down, your daughter now on his lap. “yes!! we choosed one!” she announced. “oh yeah? you did?” he chuckled, brushing her hair back, looking at the wide, wild smile on her face.

“what’s his name?”

you looked at junho as she slipped out the answer. his hand paused in her hair. his eyes found yours too quickly. you offered a small, steady smile, fingertips brushing his arm. his gaze returned to his daughter’s face, still glowing. his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“that’s… so great,” he said, quieter now. almost a whisper. “it’s a great name.” she nodded proudly, unaware of the storm she’d caused in her father’s chest.

the evening passed slowly. you ate together. your girl shared more puppy plans— where he’d sleep, what she’d teach him. junho listened. he smiled. but his shoulders were tense, his grip a little tighter around his glass. he said nothing while helping her with her bath, or when you changed her into pajamas. not even when you both tucked her into her small toddler bed.

“sweet puppy dreams,” you whispered, kissing her forehead.

it wasn’t until later, when you found junho in the kitchen, drying dishes he hadn’t washed, that the silence made sense. he leaned on the counter, eyes unfocused, hands going through the motions. you approached quietly, your hand finding his shoulder first. he looked up. his smile was small, faint.

“hey,” he said. “are you okay?” you asked, your voice barely above a murmur. he nodded, too slowly.

“it’s okay. it means she cares— right?”

your hand cupped his cheek. he leaned into it, eyes closing, maybe to ground himself. maybe to keep the tears in. “she does,” you said, watching him. “but that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to be sad.” he opened his eyes, locking onto yours. this time there was no forced smile, only rawness. grief. guilt. love.

he leaned into you. his forehead pressed against your shoulder. his hands let go of the towel and found your waist, holding you close. your fingers brushed the back of his neck. “thank you,” he murmured against your shoulder. you kissed his cheek.

“always,” you whispered. after a long pause, he pulled back and kissed you, soft, vulnerable, close. “i’ve got you,” you said.“i know,” he replied, his fingers brushing your waist. “and i’ve got the both of you.”

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[calmelody]

࿔⋆ BLURRED WORLD

hwang junho x ex!pregnant!reader

based on this request

warnings: reader is pregnant but alone. inho is referred as inho even in the games. breakup. normal squid game stuff.

words: 1.4k

a/n: not sure about if this is good honestly. hope i did well. might do a part 2 because i need more of hwang junho. also, didn’t focus on the chubby reader hope its okay? just so you know anyone can read this!! didn’t put any specific mention of body image okay?

enjoy! :)

the world blurred—just like it did that day when junho told you he didn’t want to be with you anymore. or maybe he just couldn’t. you didn’t quite catch it at first, his voice muffled, his words barely clear through the lump in your throat. tears welled up in your eyes, even though he wiped them away gently.

“i’m not there enough,” he had said quietly, voice heavy with regret. “i know i hurt you… and i’m sorry.” it was true. you were hurt, and you felt so alone. but god, how you loved him.

and then the world blurred again—when the second line appeared on the pregnancy test you took that afternoon. outside, the rain was falling softly, the kind of rain you liked—the kind that junho would have used as an excuse to rest his head on your thigh. but now, the rain kept falling, and you were alone. the only thing resting on your thigh was a pregnancy test and the wet tracks of tears. no warmth. no hand. no head.

two months later, the world blurred once more. you stood in the middle of a vast field, surrounded by people in blue jackets, numbers stitched on their backs. the last thing you remembered clearly was the paper card. your hands trembled as you dialed the phone, giving your name and birthday. you don’t remember how the suited man approached, or what he said. you don’t remember skipping your doctor’s appointment for the baby growing inside you. everything had become a blur, time folding into itself over the months. you don’t remember how you made it through it all. the field felt endless. your legs heavy and slow, heart pounding in your chest. maybe it was the weight of the baby, or the anxiety that clung to you after the first shot, the screams, the blood. your shoulders felt heavier now, carrying something invisible but heavy. but you made it. above the final line—you made it.

when you returned to the dorms, people clustered in small groups, moving toward the man who had screamed before—player 456. you stayed apart, not because you wanted to, god no, but because your legs still felt unreliable. as time passed, people quieted down, ate, waited. you found yourself sitting near a group of middle-aged men. you listened, pretending to not be obvious. one caught your gaze and laughed softly. you hadn’t thought anyone could laugh here.

“hey, you just gonna stare all day?” his voice was light, teasing, not mean. you looked up at him just as he tapped the seat beside him and 456. “come here.”

your legs moved before you could say no. you sat. “we were just exchanging names. what’s yours?” “y/n,” you said, a small smile breaking through. they all nodded, repeating their names for you to remember. no one asked why you were here. no one said it aloud, not yet. not now.

as the hours passed into night, gihun told you to be careful during guard duty, that people were desperate, dangerous even. “i’ll start,” he said. jungbae promised to join him. sleep didn’t reach you, as it had for months. junho’s voice echoed in your mind, always soft and careful:

“y/n, please. listen to me, okay?” his voice cracked with something raw, something fragile. when gihun reached for you to take his guard shift, you nodded, standing only to sit a little farther from your bed. inho was awake beside you, silent and steady, saying little. you didn’t speak either. but you noticed him glancing your way, lips twitching like he wanted to ask something.

you beat him to it. “why are you here?” your voice gentle, curious, no threat. you didn’t look at him, but you could feel his eyes on you. he cleared his throat, hesitant. “my wife… she’s sick,” he said quietly, voice cracking just a bit. “and pregnant. i need more money for her treatment.” you just nodded. sorry felt too easy.

“you’re pregnant, right?” he asked, eyes steady on you. you met his gaze. “how do you know that?” your walls felt like they were crumbling. “the way you stand. my wife used to stand like that in the beginning.”

you swallowed hard. “you’re alone?” you nodded again. “the dad doesn’t know. we aren’t together anymore.” he didn’t press, just waited. “i didn’t choose it. he said he wasn’t there anymore. he saw my pain. he was right, but still… i think i preferred when he came late at night, wrapped his arms around me, rather than nothing.” inho nodded, not because he didn’t care, but because that’s what you needed. someone to listen. and you talked, because you hadn’t said any of this out loud for months.

after a while, you exhaled sharply. “fuck, i might die here,” your voice trembled, scared. you didn’t notice a tear slip from your eye until it landed cold on your thigh. “no one knows he’s the dad, you know,” you chuckled, unsure why. “you wanna tell?” inho asked. “you wanna know? what’s the point if i die here anyway?” your voice cracked. silence. heavy silence. he didn’t reach for you or speak. you thought he might’ve stopped breathing, like his breath was caught in his throat. you bit your lip. “sorry,” you finally whispered. “i’m just afraid.”

“it’s normal.” he said softly. you nodded, wiping away the tears. “junho.”

“what?” his voice came too quickly.

“junho. hwang junho. that’s his name.” inho didn’t say anything at first. maybe he was talking to himself. your back was to him, but you could feel the change. the way his walls cracked open. you stayed quiet.

the air between you grew heavy—too much air, or maybe not enough. inho felt like he couldn’t breathe, like his lungs wouldn’t fill. even if he wanted to speak, the words were trapped. gihun wasn’t sleeping. he never really was. he heard everything, but said nothing. as if this moment was just between you two.

the air shifted. just like that. you didn’t notice yet. maybe you never would. when the other games began, gihun stayed close, inho was watching silently from behind you, keeping you safe in his sight. they both made sure you ate. “want some?” gihun asked once. inho watched over you in small, careful ways during the night. never obvious, never too close—just glances, making sure you slept.

when mingle came, he grabbed your wrist—not gently. no, because he needed you to survive this. at least this. for him—not for himself, but for junho. because he knew his little brother still cared. junho never stopped caring about inho. when “two” was announced, inho didn’t grab you. he couldn’t. gihun did. when you finally reached the room, you exhaled, needing breath, scared to the core. “you okay?” gihun asked, checking.

you nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks. he didn’t wipe them away. because sometimes you just need to feel them. he crouched down in front of you, smiling softly. “you both gonna be okay. okay?” he lied, because the truth was, he didn’t know. you never asked how he knew you were pregnant. you didn’t have to. it didn’t matter.

stepping out, your eyes searched for someone—anyone—you didn’t know. from afar, inho’s eyes found you again. you didn’t see how his shoulders dropped slightly, feeling lighter. when he reached for you, he didn’t hug you. he just asked quietly,

“are you okay?” the question felt almost dumb. you didn’t answer, but your eyes said everything.

the next thing you knew—after half your group left for the rebellion—was the fresh city air, buzzing sounds in your ears as someone carefully unfolded your tied wrists. “oh dear, are you okay?” an old woman asked, helping undo your binds. you looked around, confused. so lost.

you still had no money. no one. nothing. but you were alive. not safe. just alive—for now.

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