I Love Your Theme And Your Writing Style Omg I Just Found Your Account I WILL Be Looking Into More

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

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

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

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

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

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

masterlist | join the taglist | request a fic

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

gotak frowned, “i’ve never met them.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

maybe a little curious.

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

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

you smiled. “hi.”

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

he blinked.

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

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

you stood there for a beat, quiet.

“it’s nice to meet you,” you said.

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

just then, the gym doors creaked open behind you.

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

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

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

you and gotak both said, “no.”

juntae blinked. “...oops.”

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

after that, he finally had an excuse.

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

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

then four.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you weren’t exactly subtle either.

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

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

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

you blinked. “no i don’t.”

he grinned. “yes you do.”

you smacked his arm. “shut up.”

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

he met your gaze.

just for a second.

you looked away first.

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

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

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

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

“yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

during practice one afternoon, it happened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you raised an eyebrow. “yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

if u liked this, a reblog would be greatly appreciated to help my work reach other people as well >><< !! thank u thank u

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so pretty

𝑭𝒂𝒊𝒓 𝑭𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕‧₊˚✧ . ˚

𝐒𝐮-𝐇𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐤 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝟏.𝟗𝐤 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 | 𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐨𝐫 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐮-𝐇𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐤 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐞-𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐩𝐬𝐞 𝐀𝐔 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬—𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚. 𝐌𝐲 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝟓 + 𝟏 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡. 𝐀𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐏𝐎𝐕 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐜 ♡

When Dae-Su invites the whole gang to visit his uncle’s gym for “fun,” it never crossed anyone’s mind that they would be learning fighting skills. Perhaps Nam-Ra was smart to decline even before hearing the entirety of the planned itinerary, opting to study instead. To put it courteously, Dae-Su’s uncle was as eccentric as he was, maybe even more so.

Though you have to admit you could get behind his reasoning for pairing everyone up the way he did, regardless of whether it was truly effective in terms of honing techniques or just based on skill level, there’s no doubt it’s now your new form of entertainment:

1) On-Jo was kicking Cheong-San back and forth on their mat, expressionless. Poor guy looked like he was in a pinball machine, but he truly didn’t seem to mind even though you knew he was agile enough to avoid it. You can’t lie; they’re absolutely adorable even when they fight. Seeing I-Sak coming over occasionally to tease them only confirmed that you weren’t the only one who thought so. Huh, who would’ve thought self-defense training between two people could be this cute.

2) Animatedly, Gyeong-Su gestures “ladies first” to I-Sak, but she mimics his motions, repeating for him to “man up.” From your point of view, it looked almost comical, like one of those silent movies you could never understand. Neither of the two seemed to take it seriously; they were simply just having fun yielding to one another, taking nothing to heart.

3) Ji-Min and Hyo-Ryung were in some kind of mutual stand-off, neither one of them daring to move, their stance reminding you of two cats with a ball of yarn in the middle. They were too far away for you to listen in, but from the former’s expression, you could tell she was complaining endlessly. Is it worth it to bet on who would make the first attack rather than who would win between them?

4) In a corner, Wu-Jin and Joon-Yeong were ganging up on Dae-Su, except the biggest hurdle was that they clearly needed an actual gang to make Dae-Su budge. Apparently, his position as the so-called mediator—since it was deemed no one could win in a fight against Dae-Su if he simply laid down—didn’t matter to the other two; it was purely an opportunity for them to use him as a stress ball. You laugh at the idea that as a referee, one is supposed to keep a close eye on matches to ensure all rules are adhered to, but here, Wu-Jin and Joon-Yeong definitely found a loophole: if you take out the official, anything goes.

5) Now, that left you and Su-Hyeok, mainly because according to Dae-Su, he wanted to see you guys fight to the death, leaving you wondering if he meant that in the literal sense. “Bare-Su doesn’t know what giving up is, and Y/N would never accept defeat,” was his reasoning, pestering his uncle to pit the boys and girls against one another. Originally you and On-Jo were supposed to practice together, but for some reason, it just ended up like this. You were going to question Dae-Su as to why only the four of you were in a mixed pair, but decided against it. Knowing him, it’s probably better if you didn’t ask.

As you’re watching the hilarious matches—if they could even be called that—Su-Hyeok’s voice draws you back to your own mat and sparring partner for the day.

“Out of all supernatural beings, what are you most afraid of?” “Zombies,” you say without hesitation. “Alright, then go ahead and imagine me as a zombie in a sudden apocalypse.” “Please, when would zombies show up? At a high school of all places—I don’t think so,” you reason, giving him a pointed look.  “Just for mock situational purposes, I’ll be a zombie; a handsome one.” 

“You?” “Yeah, you can’t picture me as a zombie?” “No, I can, but not as a handsome one,” you tease, even though it was far opposite from the truth.  Rolling his eyes, he gives up. “Fine. Let’s just say I’m a regular zombie.” Su-Hyeok begins to move behind you as he says, “In the instance that I—a zombie—were to come around and do this…” He wraps an arm around your shoulders, placing your neck in the crook of his elbow in a squeezing motion that would choke you in a real-life situation with more aggression involved.  Surprising him, you quickly remove his arm, spin around, and pin it behind his back in a matter of seconds. Technically, he never asked if you had any prior experience, which you did; a black belt to be exact, but he doesn’t have to know that.

“How are you this strong?” Su-Hyeok asks, genuinely shocked. Though he groans at the pressure you applied, he reverses the disadvantageous position by drawing your arm out and back up over you, untangling himself first before flinging you down on the mat. Despite that, he still throws an arm out for you, cradling your neck to lessen the impact you would’ve received otherwise. You would never tell Su-Hyeok, but his absolute care for you—leagues even above others—was your heart’s kryptonite.

“You don’t think I can handle a fair fight, huh?” Without faltering, you wrap your legs around his waist and flip yourself back on top, not quite registering that you were presently straddling him. Too competitive to pay it any mind, you miss the slight smile Su-Hyeok tries to suppress—that always meant trouble. Decisively, you shift into putting him into an arm bar, one leg across his throat while you twist his arm tightly, disabling him from moving. “I never said that you couldn’t!” He taps the floor, seemingly signaling that he wanted out. “I give up!” He exhales tiredly.

“Oh sorry!” You apologize hurriedly, truly worried. Knowing that you had an unfair advantage to begin with, you loosen your grip altogether, already beginning to check if you went too far in the spirit of competition when Su Hyeok unceremoniously flips you back around, pinning you down. Y/H/C splays out beneath you, a stark contrast against the blue mat as his hands hold your wrists above your head, pressing it firmly to the floor while his knees lock outside of yours, restricting all movement. “Oof,” you gasp, not expecting the force or the motion’s speed, struggling against the added weight on you.

You look up, seeing Su-Hyeok chuckling openly at you having fell for his trick. His face ends up unbelievably close to yours, so close that you can see drops of sweat dotting his hairline. Every time he exhales, you can feel his breath ghost over your face, and you wonder if he could hear how fast your heart was beating or whether he could feel it from the radial pulse in your wrists through his hands due to the compromising position he currently had you locked in. His eyes sweep from your face down to your lips for a split second before looking back up, though it goes unnoticed by you.

Your feelings aside, you were never one to lose—Dae-Su was spot-on about that—and you definitely could get yourself out of the position if you just knee him where it’s known to hurt the most. Even those without training would know that oldest trick in the book, but instead, you figure that messing with him is a thousand times more satisfying.  “Do you know your place now?” He taunts, repositioning his hands in a more comfortable position so that it wouldn’t put too much force on your wrists; far too considerate for the situation at hand. “You mean underneath you?” You gaze up at him, defiantly, challenging him to make another move. Clearly flustered at your suggestive tone, his smile falters, causing you to burst into laughter. Dae-Su’s uncle walks around the dojo, gauging the progress of every duo when you see him stopping by your area, scratching his head in confusion. “Oh, geez this is…different. What do we have here?” His eyes widen as he mutters to himself, before he goes back to his usual neutral expression you’ve seen all day. “So…uh, who won?” He raises his eyebrows at you and Su-Hyeok. “I’ve never had to determine who is the victor in this—" he gestures at the air, “—kind of a match before.”  You scoot your head a little bit to the side so you could make eye contact with Dae-Su’s uncle out of respect. How ironic, considering what he was seeing in front of him. Clearly, Su-Hyeok was still too stunned to think properly, but hasn’t let you go. “Me!” You reply without shame, even adding in a smile for good measure.  Skeptical, Dae-Su’s uncle nods anyway. “Well…good going? Keep it up?” he compliments, or rather, questions awkwardly, before going on his way to the other end of the room. You have half a mind to wonder what kind of first impressions you and your friends were making, thinking about what Dae Su’s uncle would encounter on the other mats to follow. When you turn your head back, Su-Hyeok is still looking at you. He shakes his head in amusement as you nudge his knee with yours. “Where’s the sportsmanship? You just declared victory with a lie. All my hard work went down the drain.” “Well, should have spoken up earlier then, you fool.” He scoffs at you, before narrowing his eyes. “Hey! Don’t try to distract me! Is your solution in an unexpected situation to seduce your way out of it?” You blush but hold it together. “Depends, did it work?” Su-Hyeok splutters. “I told you to imagine me as a zombie. How would the undead fall victim to human charm?”  “So, you’re saying my charming nature is distracting.”  “Now you’re just twisting my words.” “You didn’t answer my question,” you press. “Was my method successful or not?” “Again, Y/N, let me remind you that I’m a zombie—" “I’m not asking Zombie Su-Hyeok, I’m asking Human Su-Hyeok what he thinks.”  There’s a dangerous glint in his eyes, which should have been warning enough for you. He moves to lace his fingers with yours, and leans in even further, his face barely an inch away. He smirks. “Maybe if you do it more often.”  Not knowing what to say and abruptly much too shy to retaliate, you quickly throw him off of you and move back into a sitting position, your cheeks red. Su-Hyeok falls to the mat on his back, laughing so hard he’s shaking. You kick him with your foot in childish revenge to no avail, glaring all the while. He finally sits up, leaning back onto his arms to continue staring at you, smiling cheekily at the expression on your face. “After that, I think I clearly won.”  Dae-Su comes by and squats between the two of you, looking back and forth pensively. “As the designated referee and the one who suggested this activity in the first place, I’m saying this for the benefit of the whole and all the single people in this room: Next time, a little less flirting and a lot more fighting, please.”

┈┈┈┈┈𖥸┈┈┈┈┈

© 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐍𝐞𝐭𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐱’𝐬 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐔𝐬 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐛𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞. 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨, 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞, 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫-𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐭. 𝐀𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞.

listen I love the thanos fanfics but fuck me why is there so much smut 😭😭🤦🏻‍♀️ GIVE ME FLUFF GIVE ME ANGST MAKE ME CRY I WANT THE HEARTBREAK

too much smut it’s too much I said it😭

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

this celebration for his niece is so cute 🥺

reporting live

trent alexander arnold x fem!reader. fluff. Trent who was rather interested in the reporter than the actual report he had to give.

Time was ticking on a thin thread for you as your supervisor might call you within five minutes if you do not interview, at least, one player of liverpool. You have been in the reporting field for at least seven months and you now also have juniors yet for you to move like an amateur was hurting your pride.

You are social issues reporter, going around different cities, and write an interesting jaw-dropping report then, call it a day. Sport reporting was not your forte, it is almost like . . fork found in your backpack. Simply out of place. The million dollar question ringing in your head was why were you here in Anfield Stadium at the first place but you face-palmed yourself on accepting to cover for your senior who was in her maternity leave. You had always hated whenever you had to cover for a reporter doing sports. No particular reasoning, just childhood trauma.

You saw all the liverpool footballer players walking out from the dressing room after a hot win. You crossed path with the tall, charismatic dutch leader of liverpool to the small growing liverpool superstar Endo but you had your goal set on the biggest prize, the player with a fresh trim, and his headphone on as every reporter tried catching his attention.

Trent Alexander Arnold, the star of Anfield and liverpool. Your supervisor might as well, move you to the Sports section if you got to interview Trent; you were not looking forward to that but a lady has bills to pay. You sighed as you had to save your job before it slipped away from your grip.

Just one interview, anyway. What is the harm? You held the sleeve of his tracker suit lightly, you needed this, you needed a bang.

"Great win in Anfield, innit? Please let us know about how are you feeling about the win?" You asked reaching your microphone out to the man. His gaze froze, so did his feet in front of you. It could be the audacity to block his way toward the team bus or the glitch of mischievousness in his eyes that flickered on your red hue cheeks.

Trent chuckled as he moved slightly forward removing his headphone, your eyes set on the man completely compelled from the bridge of his nose, deep doe eyes to his captivating smile. Everything about the man was setting you up for a failure, realizing how much of a bad idea this was.

"Yeah, yeah it is great team win but to become the last scorer for the win is a different achievement, so I am proud and happy." Trent answered, his eyes never leaving yours for a minute. His heavy scouser accent oozed out every word as Trent kept his smile intact.

His eyes glanced at you, noting the rose hue on your cheeks, one hand slightly shaking to hold onto the microphone and the other holding onto the notebook. "Come here, love. Let me hold that for you." He mumbled gripping on the microphone as your fingers brushed on his and you were secretly praying to every god that was staring upon you to not show your slight jump after the touch.

"Okay so-" You paused, clearly out of the atmosphere as you were in no place to check out players nor drool out your delusional ideas when you have a very angry supervisor waiting on the clock and an impatient cameraman behind you. "Yeah, I cannot lie, you . . you were great in the field." You complimented him quickly but you were not lying about it. With the long passes, and all the chances Trent created for the team; anyone can tell he was born to become a football player who succeeds with legacy.

"You were watching?" Trent asked raising his eyebrows in question. Utterly confused, you paused to flip your notebook to look at the man in front of you. With the silent eye contact, your neck burnt hot. You nodded sternly, a thin smile on your face. "Of course, I was watching, I mean, I am a reporter, can't be missing out on the main point of the whole show."

Trent kissed his teeth, he smirked, "So, tell me more. How was I on the field? Did you like what you see?" He winked at your direction. Your mind went blank, in what position does he have to be to flirt openly with a camera panning on his face? The burning hot sensation on your back came straight up and your heart beating fast was not helping to form words, "Like . . like I said, you were great. You are the star of liverpool after all." You sweetly smiled.

Trent had the cheeky smile on his face, his eyes lingering on your lips before glancing upward to your eyes. He knew what he was doing to you moving closer to the barrier between the reporters and the players.

You cleared your throat. "You are also the player of the match." You trailed off; Trent leaned closer. Call it the stadium being loud for him to not hear you clearly or he simply wanted to be close to you, to mesmerize the small moles on your face, to engulf himself on your warm scent.

"Are you excited for your next big game against Manchester City?" You inquired. All the back and forth staring and silence with Trent will not colour your supervisor impressed at all. You need to interview someone else that will not . . leave you speechless in minutes.

"Well it depends, to be very honest with you. Will you be in the next game?" Trent further pestered.

You furrowed your eyebrows in slight annoyance at the player for making everything about you while the whole fanbase would want to know more about him.

The cameraman behind you almost dropped his equipment taken back by the question. You did not know . . how to respond to the player who was attacking you with his doe eyes. Nervously, you laughed, "I cannot be certain about that. Are you and your team ready? It is one of the anticipated game of the season." You diverted his topic back to what you needed at the first place.

Trent stared at you without responding to your question, you quickly started shaking your leg anxiously as your eyes lingered at almost all the players leaving to go back to the training ground from the stadium. Your chances were blowing every second Trent silent in front of you.

During this period, you started considering finding other jobs, as you started making mental notes. With thoughts looming around your head, you did not come to realize Trent walked a few steps toward you, nibbling on his bottom teeth. He removed the microphone away from his lips, coming forward for a conversation that is sealed between you and the liverpool player.

You flinched at his hot breathe hitting your skin, as he gently held onto your forearm to keep you in position knowing you will move away from his contact.

You coughed away from his grip. "Have a great day then. We cannot wait till what magic liverpool can bring to Anfield once again."

"And you too, have a great day but i did not quite catch your name." He inquired with his wicked smirk playing on his face. He wants me gone, jobless. Clearly, with zero intention to support my penniless lifestyle.

You smiled, "If you do goal against Manchester City, I will let you know."

"Should we seal the deal with a kiss then, perhaps?"

Wrong smile, Wrong guy

Jealous!Chishiya x Reader | enemies in love :) | slow-burn tension

The beach was loud tonight—bonfires flickering, music echoing across stone walls, voices bouncing off tile and tension. From the second-floor balcony, half-shadowed by a column, Chishiya stood still—detached, as always. Except tonight, his eyes weren’t wandering the crowd like usual.

They were locked on you.

You were standing near the bar, posture loose, laughter easy. You looked soft in the glow of the firelight—softer than you ever were with him, and he hated that he noticed. Chishiya couldn’t hear the conversation—didn’t need to. You laughed, the kind of genuine laugh he didn’t see often, and tilted your head in a way he recognized. That glint in your eye, the one you always used right before a sharp-tongued resort—gone. Replaced with softness. The source?

Last boss.

Of all people

Chishiya’s jaw tensed, the corner of his mouth twitching—just enough to betray him. He wasn’t even sure why it annoyed him. It just did.

He watched you nudge Last Boss playfully in the arm—touched him—and that was it. He turned away, pacing a step like the movement might shake it off. But it didn’t. You never smiled liked that when you talked to him. With him, you were all eye rolls, sarcasm, smug jabs, and “go away, Chishiya.”

So why the hell did it bother him?

Maybe it was the way you looked so uncomplicated down there, laughing like the world wasn’t crumbling. Maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t even noticed him watching. Or maybe it was because somewhere deep in his chest, there was a flicker of something he didn’t want to name.

He glanced over his shoulder again, watching you from afar, and quietly muttered to himself.

“Tch. Idiot.”

But this time, he wasn’t talking about you.

part 2 of jack champion hcs 👩‍🦽👩‍🦽👩‍🦽

sure thing 𐐪𐑂

pretty boy part 2 :)

m! speaks : you ask and you shall receive <3

* .・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

the lalalalalala to your okokokokokok

always finding an excuse to hang out

even if you guys are just sitting in silence he just loves to be in your presence

he’s seen all the edits.. in fact y’all go through them together seeing which ones are the best

your little dancing boy

after every movie premiere he takes you to join the cast at the after parties ( best believe y’all are on the dance floor IMMEDIATELY )

golden retriever x black cat 🤭🤭🤭

he always accidentally spoils his movies for you

he tries to keep it in but poor baby is just too excited

he definitely would dedicate ‘my kind of woman’ by mac demarco as your song

that was the song he first ever posted you to 🥲

an absolute attention whore

wants your attention 25/8 and WILL do anything to get it

refers to you as m’lady to mess with you

uses the MOST CRINGE PET NAMES EVER cause he knows you hate it

“hi bubby wubby”

“absolutely not”

will protect you from the paparazzi if they become too much

“do you wanna go? we can go its okay baby, I don’t mind”

but if it’s just a few fans he will always pull you to join in on the photos ( he knows how much the fans adore you as well )

words of affirmation 🤝 jack champion

he’s always reassuring you even if you don’t need

“i love you so much”

“you’re the only one for me”

he absolutely adores bringing you around his cast mates

he loves you so much it’s so important to him that his friends love you too

he 100% does the thumb thing when holding ur hand

100% follows the sidewalk rule

he treats you the same as he did in the beginning, like he’s still trying to win you over ( even tho he 100% owns ur heart )

you making fun of his cringe videos from his younger years

“ THERE ARE GIANTS IN THE SKYYYAAAAUHH”

“Y/N AGAIN?”

“pythagorean theorem”

“laugh all you want but I got an A for that”

mans is so sassy istg

hands on his hips and everything

called you a sussy baka once and you ignored him for three hours

he knew to never do that again…

* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

ty guys sm for all the love on my last fic as it was my first one ever! I really appreciate y’all hopefully y’all stick around and enjoy! <3

“Strike for Strike”

Pairing: Ahn Suho x Reader

Length: Like 7000 words??

Genre: idk like Romance, Drama, Comfort, Revenge

Warnings: Violence, blood, emotional trauma, broken bones, intense angst, protective Suho, mutual pining

Summary: After Beom-seok (your former friend) beats you so badly your arm ends up broken, Ahn Suho can’t sit still. What he does that night changes everything between you.

⸻

The hospital room was too bright.

Sterile white light bounced off polished tiles and smooth walls, washing out your already pale face. Your arm sat in a sling across your chest, the bruises spreading down your forearm in a sick purple bloom. The doctors said you were lucky—hairline fracture, not a full break. You weren’t sure if you agreed.

Across the room, Ahn Suho stood in the corner, arms crossed tightly over his chest. He hadn’t said much since you got out of surgery. Just hovered. Watched. His jaw had been clenched so tight you were afraid it would crack.

You hated that he saw you like this—beaten, broken, silent. You hated even more that you couldn’t lie about who had done it.

“You should rest,” he finally said, voice low and flat.

You didn’t respond.

Suho walked to your bedside and crouched down, finally meeting your eyes. His brows were furrowed with something unreadable—anger, guilt, sorrow, maybe all three.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he whispered.

Your throat tightened. “I thought… maybe he wouldn’t go that far.”

“Beom-seok broke your arm.”

You flinched—not at the words, but at the way he said them. Like he was holding back a hurricane.

Suho rose. “I’m going out.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I’ll be back,” he said, already walking away. “Stay here.”

You grabbed at his sleeve with your good hand. “Suho, don’t—”

But he was already gone.

⸻

Suho’s fists clenched and unclenched as he moved through the cold streets. He knew where Beom-seok would be. He’d always been predictable like that—corner of the old school building, the back alley behind the convenience store, alone with his rot.

He hadn’t said anything when you told him. Just listened while your voice cracked around the memory of fists and betrayal. Beom-seok, your childhood friend. The one who smiled too much, who always needed saving—until the power flipped. Until he hurt you, because it made him feel strong.

Suho wasn’t going to let that slide.

The wind bit at his cheeks as he rounded the corner—and there he was. Beom-seok. Smoking something cheap, headphones in. Unbothered. Untouched.

Suho’s blood boiled.

“Hey,” he barked.

Beom-seok looked up, brows raised. “Suho? What—”

The punch landed before he could finish.

Suho didn’t give him time to fall properly. He grabbed his collar and drove his knee into Beom-seok’s ribs, once, twice, until the other boy gasped, coughing blood onto the pavement.

“You think you can touch her and walk away?” Suho growled.

Beom-seok spat. “She deserved it.”

Suho saw red.

He didn’t hold back. Fists slammed into cheekbones and jawlines, until his own knuckles split open and blood sprayed across his hoodie. Beom-seok tried to fight back, but it was pathetic. Weak. The cowardice oozed off him like a stink.

“You think that makes you a man?” Suho hissed, dragging Beom-seok up by the hair. “You broke her fucking arm, and for what? Because she walked away from your sorry ass?”

“She turned her back on me first,” Beom-seok snarled through swollen lips. “She left me alone!”

“You did that to yourself.”

Suho threw him down like garbage and stood over him, breathing hard. His voice dropped to a low, vicious murmur. “If you ever go near her again, I swear—there won’t be a next time.”

⸻

You didn’t sleep. You couldn’t—not with the weight of what you knew Suho was doing.

When the door creaked open just past 2 a.m., you were sitting up in the hospital bed, good arm clutching the blanket to your chest. Suho stepped inside, hoodie torn, knuckles wrapped in bloodied gauze.

You stared at him.

He didn’t speak. Just walked over, dropped into the chair beside you, and leaned forward, elbows on knees.

“Did you… did you hurt him?”

He didn’t look at you. “Yeah.”

“Bad?”

“Not as bad as he deserved.”

You swallowed hard. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I did.”

You were silent for a while, eyes fixed on his busted hands.

“He could’ve—he might retaliate,” you whispered.

Suho looked at you then, eyes sharp, almost wild. “Let him try.”

You reached out, trembling slightly, and gently laid your fingers over the back of his hand. He flinched, but didn’t pull away.

“You didn’t need to protect me like that,” you said softly.

He turned his hand under yours, curling his fingers around your palm.

“I always protect what’s mine,” he said. “Even if you don’t let me.”

Your breath hitched. “I’m not yours.”

His gaze dropped to your lips. “Aren’t you?”

⸻

The next few days blurred. You were discharged from the hospital. Suho insisted on walking you home, shadowing you like a silent guardian. He didn’t bring up the fight again—but you knew the aftermath was still rippling beneath his skin.

He brought you your favorite snacks. Sat beside you while you watched movies. Glared at anyone who so much as looked at you sideways in the halls.

He didn’t ask for anything in return.

But one night, a week later, when the bruises were still there but your heart hurt more than your body—you asked him to stay.

He sat on the edge of your bed while you curled beneath your blanket, injured arm resting in a pillow cradle. His hoodie was too big on you. His scent wrapped around you like safety.

“Why did you do it?” you whispered into the dark. “Why risk that for me?”

He didn’t answer right away. Then:

“Because you matter to me.”

Your chest tightened. “We weren’t even that close before.”

“We should’ve been.”

Silence.

Then you said the thing that scared you most.

“I was scared you’d hate me for getting involved with Beom-seok in the first place.”

Suho turned his head slowly. “I hated him. Never you.”

You bit your lip. “Even now?”

He reached out and brushed a strand of hair from your face, thumb trailing along your cheekbone.

“Especially not now,” he murmured.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft. It was full of everything he’d been holding back—rage, fear, relief, longing. Your hand fisted in the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. His lips moved against yours like he’d been starving, and you gave in, melted, let the hurt fall away for a moment.

When he finally pulled back, breathless, he rested his forehead against yours.

“You’re not alone anymore,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

⸻

Beom-seok disappeared for a while after that. Rumors swirled—he transferred schools, his father got involved, there was even talk of charges. You didn’t care. Not anymore.

Because Suho never left.

When your cast came off, he was there, fingers ghosting over your healed arm like it was sacred. When nightmares woke you up, he answered his phone on the first ring, even at 3 a.m.

You started calling him “mine” in your head long before you said it out loud.

It happened one afternoon, a month later. You were sitting on the school rooftop, wind tugging at your hair, his hand warm in yours.

“You remember what you said?” you asked. “About protecting what’s yours?”

He turned to you, eyes dark and steady. “Yeah.”

You smiled faintly. “I think I’m ready to be yours.”

Suho didn’t smile. He just leaned in, pressed his lips to your temple, and whispered, “Good.”

Because you already were.

ANYONE WANT A LITTLE FLASHBACK TO WHEN BEOM-SEOK AND READER FELL OUT???