#3 jun

[teamunee]

had to make a mini zine for class so I made a scum villain hanbok series!

bonus, all the pages together and the full bingge piece because i like it

[cranity]

more yakuza guys

[kabukipopink]

MoShang Bluesky commission.

[lanadelreyworshipperr]

[meadowfics]

maternal instinct

hwang jun-ho x f!reader

synopsis: you and your fiancé become adoptive parents, but not by choice

SPOILERS FOR SQUID GAME SEASON THREE BELOW -> DON'T CLICK 'KEEP READING' IF YOU DO NOT WANT SPOILERS!

the rain taps softly against the window of your small seoul apartment, a quiet rhythm that feels at odds with the storm in your heart.

you’ve just returned from a doctor’s appointment, your mind weighed down by routine checkups and the lingering shadow of your fiancé’s obsession.

for three years, you’ve stood by jun-ho...first as a colleague, then as a partner, and now as his fiancée...as he hunted for the truth about the mysterious island and its deadly games.

he also wanted to look for his brother.

jun-ho told you about it all.

he trusted you the most.

the squid games, as you’ve both come to call it, has consumed him since he first uncovered whispers of its existence as a detective.

now, with the island destroyed...blown to pieces in a fiery explosion just week ago...your lives are supposed to find peace.

you know better.

nothing about this case ever settles.

you fumble with your keys, the dampness of your blue cardigan clinging to your skin as you push open the apartment door. your boots squeak against the hardwood floor, and you’re about to call out for jun-ho when your breath catches in your throat.

there, right in the walkway, is something impossible.

a baby.

in a white baby carrier.

its a baby.

a tiny girl, no older than three months, lies nestled in a bundle on the floor.

she’s wrapped in a green jacket...number 222 emblazoned on the left side, the white digits marred by streaks of red.

blood, you realize with a jolt, your heart lurching.

the baby herself seems unharmed, her delicate features serene.

beneath the jacket, she wears a soft, colorful onesie, blues and greens swirling with delicate florals, and a knitted head cover keeps her tiny head warm.

the babies dark eyes, wide and curious, lock onto yours, and something inside you shifts...a fierce, primal protectiveness surges through you, sudden and overwhelming.

this child, this fragile little girl, is alone, and every instinct in your body screams to shield her from whatever brought her here.

“oh my goodness,” you whisper, your bag slipping from your shoulder to the floor with a soft thud.

your hands tremble as you kneel beside her, your heart pounding.

she’s so small, so vulnerable, and the sight of those bloodstains on the jacket makes your chest tighten with dread.

has she been fed?

is she hurt?

why is she here, in your apartment?

your mind races, but all you can think about is keeping her safe, wrapping her in warmth and love she might never have known.

you want to scoop her up, to hold her close, but you hesitate, afraid of startling her.

before you can decide, the door creaks open behind you.

jun-ho steps inside, his clothes seem dry for someone who came from the light drizzling rain.

he didn't say anything as he looked at you. you looked confused, so this confused him before his eyes land on the baby.

jun-ho's face pales, his dark eyes widening in shock.

“what… what is this?”

“i don’t know,” you say, your voice trembling as you look up at him, your hands still hovering over the baby.

“i just found her here.” your voice cracks, and you realize your protectiveness is already there, a maternal instinct you didn’t know you had flaring to life.

you want to shield this child from whatever horrors left her here, knowing that she must've came from that island.

jun-ho steps closer, his movements slow, cautious, as if the baby might vanish.

the babies gaze shifts to him, calm and unwavering, and the room feels impossibly still.

it was then that you noticed the small card laid against where her small belly would be.

jun-ho noticed it right away and reaches for it, his fingers brushing the fabric carefully, as if he’s afraid to disturb her.

he holds the card up, his brow furrowing as he reads it.

you lean closer, your shoulder brushing his, and read the words scrawled in neat, black ink:

player 222: winner.

“winner?” you read aloud, your voice barely above a whisper.

you look back at the baby, her tiny face serene despite the weight of those words.

“this… this baby won the game?” the idea is absurd, impossible, yet the evidence is right in front of you.

this was confirmation that gi-hun was dead.

your heart clenches, and that protective instinct for the baby surges again, fiercer now.

this child, barely three months old, has survived something unimaginable.

you won’t let her face another moment of pain.

jun-ho’s jaw tightens, and you see a flicker of grief in his eyes, maybe recognition.

you’ve been part of his investigation since the beginning, back when he was just a colleague you admired from afar, before your feelings deepened.

you know the toll this case has taken...the sleepless nights, the dead-end leads, the obsession with finding his brother, in-ho.

now, this baby, wrapped in a jacket marked 222, lies in your apartment like a gift for enduring so much.

maybe she is here to bring you and your fiancé peace.

jun-ho turns the card over, revealing a gold debit card tucked into a sleeve on the back.

your breath catches. you’ve seen cards like this in the files jun-ho pored over during late-night stakeouts. this is a card tied to the squid game winnings.

it is blood money.

you can’t wait any longer.

you carefully lift the baby into your arms, her small weight settling against your chest.

she’s warm, fragile, and as you cradle her, that maternal protectiveness floods you again, so intense it almost hurts.

“it’s okay, little girl,” you murmur, rocking her gently, “you’re safe now.” you peel the blood-stained jacket off her, careful not to jostle her, and your stomach churns at the sight of the red stains.

you won’t let her be tainted by whatever violence this jacket carries.

you drape your clean blue cardigan over her, tucking it around her tiny frame, and hold her closer, your heart swearing to protect her from the world that left her here.

jun-ho watches you, his eyes softening for a moment before he speaks.

“i need to check something,” he says quietly, “i’ll be right back.”

you nod, too overwhelmed to ask where he’s going.

the door clicks shut, and you’re alone with the baby.

you carry her to the couch, settling down with her in your lap.

she looks up at you, her dark eyes searching, and you feel a pang in your chest so deep it brings tears to your eyes. you’ve always wanted a family with jun-ho, but not like this....not with a child tied to the horrors you and jun-ho have chased for years.

yet, as you brush a finger across her cheek, you know you’d do anything for her.

she’s yours now, in a way you can’t explain, and you’ll fight to give her the life she deserves.

“who left you here, sweet girl?” you whisper, though you suspect the answer.

in-ho.

jun-ho’s brother.

you remember the pain in jun-ho’s voice when he spoke of in-ho’s disappearance, his desperation to find him.

you were there when jun-ho infiltrated the island just a week ago, when you both saw his brother holding a baby in those final, chaotic moments before he vanished.

this must be that baby.

the thought makes your heart ache, but it also strengthens your resolve.

if in-ho left her here, he trusts you and jun-ho to care for her.

you won’t let the baby down.

you check her over, your hands gentle but thorough, looking for signs of neglect or injury.

the girl's onesie is clean, her skin soft and unblemished.

someone cared for her, at least enough to dress her warmly and keep her safe. however, the blood on that jacket haunts you.

whose was it?

her parents’?

another player’s?

you push the thought away, focusing on her steady breathing, the way her tiny fingers curl against your chest.

“you’re so strong,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion, “you made it through so much, didn’t you?”

your heart aches. a baby should never have to go through that much before it can even crawl.

the door opens, and jun-ho steps inside, his expression grim but resolute. he holds up the gold debit card, his voice low.

“forty-five point six billion won.”

your breath catches, and you look down at the baby in your arms. a tear slips down your cheek, but you don’t wipe it away.

“forty-five…” you trail off, the number too staggering to grasp. this tiny girl, this survivor, carries a fortune stained with blood.

more than that, she’s yours. the protectiveness surges again, fierce and unyielding.

you’ll guard her, not just her money, but her heart, her future.

jun-ho sits beside you on the couch, his shoulder brushing yours.

he reaches out, his hand gentle as he cradles the baby’s head, his fingers brushing her soft peach fuzz which was her growing hair.

“she needs a name,” you say softly, your voice thick with emotion.

you’re her protector now, her mother in all but name, and you want her to have something pure, something untouched by the horrors of her past.

jun-ho nods, his eyes fixed on her.

“did the card say anything about her name?” you ask, though you know the answer.

“just the number,” he replies quietly, “player 222.”

you look down at her, your heart swelling with love and determination.

“hye-ji,” you murmur, the name slipping out like a promise.

it’s simple, free of meaning, a clean slate for a child whose first days were steeped in horror.

“hwang hye-ji,” you say again, tears filling your eyes as you look at jun-ho, seeking his approval.

he meets your gaze, and for a moment, you see the weight of everything he’s carried.

the loss of his brother, the years of chasing shadows, the guilt of surviving.

he nods, a small, tender smile breaking through.

“hye-ji,” he repeats with his voice soft, “it’s perfect.”

you lean into him, hye-ji nestled between you, and the apartment feels warm despite the rain outside.

you know the road ahead will be hard. there are questions you can’t ever answer...about her biological parents, about in-ho, about the blood on that jacket.

as you hold hye-ji, feeling her steady warmth against you, you make a silent vow.

your adoptive daughter's first days may have been hell, but you’ll make sure her life is filled with love.

you’ll protect her, no matter what.

“we’ll keep you safe, hye-ji,” you whisper, your lips brushing her forehead.

jun-ho’s hand finds yours, his fingers intertwining, and you know he’s making the same promise.

you’re a family now, bound by love and a shared vow to give this child the life she deserves.

masterlist

author's note: this part in the show made me happy despite my broken heart

[queen-morgana91]

Junho suddenly becoming a dad and a billionaire is the funniest shit ever

[cairafea]

my favourite genre of seventeen is when they're straight up lying

ref:

[bishy437]

(Un)Helpful guide to understanding Mobei Jun :)

Part 1

[sweetmage]

Wylls heart sending stone pupil is giving Michaelangelo's "David" tbh.

Omg, you are so right!! I NEVER noticed this!! 👀

I am absolutely giddy about learning this!! 💞

[hwangbros]

WHERE IS THE HWANG BROS CONTENT??????

THE ANGST. THE REUNION. THE SHOUTING MATCH. THE TEARS. THE I HATE YOU. THE I’M SORRY. THE PLEASE COME HOME. THE HUG. THE HEALING

WHERE WHERE WHERE WHERE

[makedonsgriva]

my favourite part about moshang is that shang qinghua is constantly in a fight or flight mode and experiencing all the horrors while mobei jun probably thinks he is in a shoujo manga where the heroine is oblivious as fuck to his advances but he is not backing down anytime soon.

[brxght-world]

soooo wtf was that ending

[bebx]

we need a romcom found family trope with them (where no one dies)

with Dora the Explorer too, of course

[userluhna]

࿔⋆ STILL OURS

dad!hwangjunho x mom!reader

based on this request

words: 980

warnings: post season 3 squid game. hurt/comfort. found family. healing. sudden parenthood.

enjoy! :)

at first, it was overwhelming—more than you ever imagined. you never really expected to be a parent, especially not like this, with a tiny baby suddenly in your life, completely unplanned. maybe you had talked about having kids once, maybe far in the future, but this? this was different. raw and unprepared.

fear wrapped itself around your chest like a tight band, and sometimes, anger flickered beneath it. you and junho argued quietly, a few sharp words here and there, mostly because neither of you knew what you were doing. changing diapers was a mystery, decoding those tiny cries a frustrating puzzle. “i don’t know what to do!” you’d cried out one night, voice breaking in the silence of the bathroom, tears welling, ready to spill. it was nearly 3am, exhaustion creeping in like a shadow. “she’s not even… she’s not my baby. i can’t—i don’t—”

junho’s hands found your face, gentle but steady, wiping away the tears as he searched your eyes. “hey, hey, it’s okay,” he murmured softly. his own eyes were a bit red—lack of sleep, maybe, or perhaps his heart breaking a little too. he pulled you close, resting your head against his chest. “i know it’s hard. i’m scared too.” he kissed your temple, quiet and reassuring. “you’re doing better than you realize,” he whispered, rocking you both slowly, his voice barely more than a breath. it was a small comfort, but enough to keep you going. neither of you had a manual, but somehow you managed—you bought diapers and cribs, filled the nursery with tiny clothes and toys. all the money you had on that card went to her, never to yourselves.

months passed. you learned. between youtube tutorials and parenting classes, you found your rhythm. you figured out how to hold her without flinching, what her cries meant—hunger, tiredness, discomfort. you recognized her smiles, the way she calmed when you hummed.

she fell asleep on junho’s chest more times than you could count, and he never dared to move. just kept his hand on her back, breathing slow and steady. you, on the other hand, ended up with milk stains all over your shirt at odd hours, rocking her gently until she drifted off. junho would watch from the doorway, a sleepy smile tugging at his lips. “you’re doing great,” he’d whisper, stepping closer to wrap his arms around your waist, his chest against your back as you rocked yoo-ri. “and looking good doing it.” his voice was rough, tired but affectionate, lips brushing your temple. you laughed softly. “seriously? milk stains and messy hair? junho, i haven’t had a full night’s sleep in months.”

“so what?” he grinned, his lips warm against your skin. “can i call you hot mom now?”

you elbowed him playfully. “ow! that hurts.” he chuckled, “okay, okay. you’re a little menace, just like her.” and the baby smiled, as if understanding every word. she grew slowly, steadily. when she started crawling, junho baby-proofed the whole apartment, eyes never leaving her for a second.

“she’s not going anywhere, love. sit down for a minute,” you told him more than once, but he wouldn’t hear it.

“what if she gets into something dangerous?”

“oh, she will,” you said, and he just stared at her all the more carefully. her first steps were magic. you were playing games in the living room, laughter spilling from her lips, when junho came in, keys in hand, slipping off his shoes. crouching near the door, arms open wide, he called softly, “hi, sweet girl.”

and she stood—wobbly and unsteady, feet barely cooperating. “oh my god, junho!” you breathed, excitement shining in your eyes. “come here, yoori, come to appa.” her little legs carried her to him, and when she reached his arms, he lifted her high, planting kisses on her cheeks, never letting go for a full ten seconds. “you did it.”

she didn’t look like either of you—at least, not exactly. but there was something unmistakably hers in her character, a blend of the two of you. maybe a nose like yours, some soft features that could only be from her mom, but her own little spark that made her unique. you loved her fiercely, fiercely enough to call her your own from the moment she was placed in this room. maybe one day she’d understand, maybe she wouldn’t. but when she turned four, playing with junho, building a little fort in the living room, you walked in holding a positive test.

a new beginning.

you knelt down in front of your toddler, showing her the tiny lines on the stick. her eyes lit up, a huge smile spreading across her face. “i’m gonna be the best big sister!” she declared proudly. and she was—your first child, your heart, the one you chose to raise with every ounce of love you had.

masterlist

requests are open!

tag list: @namgyucat @namsgyu @threerxcha

[makeitworse]

enjoy the silence

raising the baby w junho ! ⠀⚠︎ SPOILERS BELOW

after years of tunnel vision on tracking his brother down, untangling the rotten truth that’s left him sleepless— junho expected anything but this to be inho’s final statement. a baby girl, left with nothing but a player number and the bloodstained prize money.

was this inho’s child, trusted to her uncle to raise far away from her father’s true life? or perhaps this was a stranger’s child, saved by any surviving humanity left in the pits of his older brother’s heart? this poor girl, brought into the world amidst the circles of hell itself, and junho didn’t even know how to hold her properly.

he’d called his mother in a panic, stammering with the baby wailing in the background as if the building was on fire. though it was decades ago, his mother went through this twice, so it was muscle memory helping him out.

there wasn’t an explanation he could offer her though, since he hadn’t even wrapped his head around it himself. all he could say was that she wasn’t his, and she needed to be in the care of someone who knew what they were doing— even if the weight of her cradled in his arms had his heart beating like there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for her.

you met junho in a grocery store: poking your head around the aisle when you heard panicked whispers and a baby blabbering. junho was cradling her awkwardly, squinting at the shelves like the baby formula was written in hieroglyphics— looking like he was two seconds from bursting into tears himself. you approached him with an amused smile and soft voice, offering a helping hand that he’s been forever grateful for since.

you lulled her with gentle rocks, demonstrating it to junho and then explaining how to pick out the right food. all the while, he can’t stop gazing at you in awe like you’ve got a golden halo above your head. he could not stop thanking you for your help— and one thing after another, you’re sat at a café after he insisted on treating you to a coffee (and his girl to a babyccino, per your suggestion).

junho’s extremely transparent with you, also to his own surprise. you figured as much that he was a single father who’d been raising the baby by google searches— but you’re taken aback when he admits that the child was bestowed upon him by his brother (“long story” he’d said) and not his own.

you can tell he’s been absolutely lost, dark circles under his eyes and unkempt hair. so when you offer yourself up to helping him navigate parenthood, he looks at you like he’s fallen in love on the spot. maybe he did.

and it’s not out of pity for him. it’s because you can see the exhaustion in his eyes— how he’s putting in all the effort to something he doesn’t even understand. and how he looks at the baby, like he’s terrified to fail her.

you become a regular at his apartment complex. at first, visits were just practical— feeding tips, changing diapers, practical how-to-parent tutorials. but the rhythm becomes something more natural, something without the need for a schedule.

you don’t pry: you don’t ask where she came from or why he has her when he needs this much guidance. but junho opens up anyways— slowly, one story at a time, like each one sheds a burden off his shoulders.

he doesn’t intend to fall for you, but it’s hard not to. you make things feel normal again. you don’t press about the past. you care for this baby like she may as well be yours. and he adores that about you.

the love sneaks up on him: during quiet dinners after you helped him rock her to sleep. through the way his stare lingers at your hands when you caress her. without realising he’s suddenly saying our girl in conversation with his mother. when she asked what you are to him, that’s when his mind had a blank.

somewhere between late-night movies after putting her to bed, that’s when it happens. a kiss on the couch. junho’s hand trembling slightly against your cheek. guilt’s written across his eyes, but so is relief. and you don’t pull away from him. you leaned in. (mindful not to wake her in the other room, of course)

junho is so painfully clueless, but he's all heart. he watches youtube essays on parenting like he’s preparing for a police exam. he keeps a list of her favourite foods in the notes app. neatly folds her laundry like it’s pure silk. you tease him, but it makes your heart ache how deeply he cares.

he always insists on being the one to rock her to sleep, even when it takes an hour. claims it “helps her trust him.” but you know it’s just as much for him, too. the first time she gets a fever, he doesn’t sleep. just sits beside her crib and watches her breathe, one of her little palms wrapped around a calloused finger.

he still carries the weight of everything he’s done. still wakes up some nights soaked in sweat, heart racing. but now he’s got you next to him. you don’t ask question, just hold him. massage his scalp while he shudders in your arms.

when his girl first blabbered an “appa”, he froze. stares at her like she split the sky open. then he excused himself to cry in the bathroom. with the life he was living before he met you both, he didn’t have the time to dream of starting a family. and now that he’s got one, he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

🧸 mlist · taglist 〃 note. drinking for junhee tn

@lightinbug @sherrayyyyy @namsgyu @riddlerloveb0t @ttturnitup @rafesbunniebby @nicaeno @ferrarifinnick @loveesiren @madebybec @avsarchivez @frontwomann @szonyix6277 @namgyooner @thanosspills

[finalfivecarts]

man this is the 5th time this year