We Need More Niko X Reader. In General Beta Squad X Reader !! Im Craving It

“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???

𝑭.𝑹.𝑰.𝑬.𝑵.𝑫.𝑺.‧₊˚✧ . ˚

𝐒𝐮-𝐇𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐤 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝟓.𝟑𝐤 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 | 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐮-𝐇𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐢𝐭.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐀𝐔 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐳𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐮-𝐇𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 (𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐬!) 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞.𝐈 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟓 + 𝟏 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟. 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈’𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐎𝐔𝐀𝐃 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧,𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐮-𝐇𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐨 𝐈’𝐦 𝐩𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐞 ♡

˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷1. Ms. Park

“Su-Hyeok, what do you think of Nam-Ra’s interpretation?”

Class 2-5 all turn their heads to the back, trying—but failing—to suppress their laughter, awaiting what kind of nonsense would spew from Su-Hyeok’s mouth this time around.

“I agree. She’s 100% correct.”

Some giggles slip through before Ms. Park silences them by holding her hand up. “Great,” Ms. Park says sarcastically, with an air of teasing. “Now…just what do you agree with again?”

Su-Hyeok doesn’t even falter, replying with, “If she could be kind enough to repeat her response so that I can gather my thoughts more coherently….” The whole class loses it right then and there.

His seat-mate further rubs salt into the wound by whispering between bouts of laughter, “Yah, did you even have any thoughts to begin with?” This earns him a glare, but he was too far gone to care.

Su-Hyeok grimaces, seeing the disappointment on Ms. Park’s face mixed with amusement as she gestures for Nam-Ra to recite her previous statement again. With the amount of times he acts up in the same manner on a regular basis, he’s surprised and grateful that she still allows him to step foot into class for lessons.

Nam-Ra rises once more, her chair creaking slightly, though that doesn’t wake you up from your nap next to her. Currently, you were turned away from the window, left elbow flat on the desk surface as a makeshift pillow. “All of us have some sort of prejudice. We all have preconceptions about other people.”

“Precisely,” Ms. Park compliments. “Thank you, Nam-Ra, for saying that twice.” With her emphasis on the word, she fixes her stern gaze on Su-Hyeok, but her next words are the exact opposite. “Bare-Su, please pay more attention to my lesson during class time and less on staring at your girlfriend, Y/N.” She raises her eyebrows teasingly.

Su-Hyeok is quick to correct her, trying to suppress the heat he feels slowly making its way up to his face. “Ms. Park,” he says incredulously. “We’re not together.”

“Eyyy,” Dae-Su’s booming voice reverberates in the classroom. “Now you’re just making up lies.” You stir at the loud sound, but it’s still not enough to make you open your eyes.

“I’m serious, Dae-Su,” Su-Hyeok splutters.

“Yet you’re not denying having stared at Y/N~,” Wu-Jin drawls, giving Dae-Su’s awaiting hand a high-five with a resounding smack.

“You guys, cut it out already!” Su-Hyeok says exasperatedly to deaf ears. “Ms. Park, how come Y/N is taking a sound nap in class, but I’m the one being ganged up on?”

“This is the first time it has happened, and she’s still ranked 3rd in the class. I can afford to let it slide,” Ms. Park crosses her arms and smiles, entertained by Su-Hyeok’s excuses.

“Isn’t this blatant favoritism?” Su-Hyeok mumbles under his breath.

“You also favor Y/N, so you can’t be one to talk,” his seat-mate teases him for the second time that day.

“You’re not even on the baseball team so why are you so hell-bent on hitting home runs with your sassy remarks today, huh?” Su-Hyeok slaps him upside the head.

“Alright, alright, settle down class. I think that’s enough punishment for our Bare-Su today.” When Ms. Park turns back to the blackboard, she says loud enough for the class to hear, “No worries. We can just ask Y/N for confirmation when she’s up.” By how much the students were cracking up, it suddenly seems like a free period.

“Seonsaengnim!”

At Su-Hyeok’s outburst, you wake up, trying to settle back into reality. Of course, Ms. Park notices your state of rousing. She’s not one to miss any little detail.

“Ah, good morning to you, Y/N. So glad you can finally join us.” Her words hold no malice at all, but you’re still sheepish.

Shyly scratching you head, you voice out, “I apologize for dozing off. Did I miss anything important?” You finally notice all eyes on you. Well, save for Su-Hyeok’s. “Guys….? Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“Well—" Dae-Su begins but is cut off by Ms. Park.

“Please refrain from sleeping again in my class as it’s a distraction…to some more than others.”

Laughter rings loud and clear again, all directed towards Su-Hyeok as you turn to Nam-Ra for answers in bewilderment.

“Banjang, you’re the smartest one here. What’s going on?”

Nam-Ra spares a glance at you with a slight smirk, an expression you’ve never seen on her before, despite how much she’s warmed up to you as her seat-mate and friend, though she’s hesitant to admit to the latter.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Nam-Ra says dismissively, but lightly. “Ms. Park was just teaching Su-Hyeok about preconceptions.”

˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷2. On-Jo

Linking your arm through Nam-Ra’s while balancing your tray with your other hand, you pull her in the direction of where On-Jo and I-Sak were already seated with their own lunches piled high with food.

“Save some for the rest of us, On-Jo,” you joke as you and Nam-Ra sit down on the opposite bench, pointing to your friend’s tray.

“Ha ha, very funny,” On-Jo pouts. “I don’t eat a lot; I just eat well.”

“A little too well,” Nam-Ra chimes in, causing you to choke on your banana milk in laughter and surprise. Since Nam-Ra started opening up to your friend group, you can already see the influence it’s had on her. Her conversations may still be minimal, but boy do they pack a punch.

While you all wait for the rowdy boys to join, I-Sak mimes pulling you, Nam-Ra, and On-Jo into a huddle and whispers, “So, have you guys thought about who’s asking who to the spring formal in a few months?” Here, she raises her eyebrows and adds, “Better yet, who are you hoping will ask you?”

“Aish,” you rebuke. “I thought you were about to spill your biggest secret or something!”

“Hey, I’m just curious! Not all of us are set and ready like you are, Y/N!” I-Sak winks at you as you’re in the middle of chewing.

You finish your bite before replying, “Huh?”

“Well, you and Su-Hyeok are already dating, so isn’t it obvious you’ll be attending together?” On-Jo answers.

Flabbergasted, you retort, “But we’re not in a relationship. I thought that was what’s obvious.” Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion.

“Tsk, since when did you become so good at lying, our sweet and innocent Y/N?” I-Sak pokes you with the clean end of her chopstick.

“There’s nothing going on between us,” you emphasize. “I’ve known him since we were babies, and he definitely doesn’t like me in that way. I know that for a fact!” You point from Nam-Ra, to On-Jo, and finally to I-Sak. “Not one more word from you guys, alright?”

Nam-Ra slurps a spoonful of her seaweed soup loudly.

You turn to her and narrow your eyes. “Now, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you said not one more word,” Nam-Ra says without missing a beat. “That was a sound.”

You could never win against Nam-Ra verbally. “Don’t tell me you agree with On-Jo and I-Sak,” you say while facepalming. “Look guys, he’s really sweet, kind, caring, brave…” Realizing you’re rambling when the girls give you a look, you blush and backpedal. “What I mean,” you say as you fix them all with a gaze of finality, “is that it’d be weird. We grew up together, and we fight all the time.”

“I like to call that lover’s quarrel,” On-Jo states.

You roll your eyes and throw a clean crumpled napkin at her, which she manages to dodge.

“I also forgot nice smile, athletic, handsome—" I-Sak mimics your voice. You know it’s bad how spot-on it is when even Nam-Ra laughs.

“Yah! Do you want to die?”

On-Jo protects I-Sak from your slaps to her arm. “Just admit that you like—" On-Jo is interrupted by a voice you know all too well.

“Like what?” Su-Hyeok asks, oblivious, as he plops down next to you, nudging your shoulder with his out of habit as the boys fill in the rest of the bench, focused on their own conversations.

“Yeah, Y/N, what were you going to say?” I-Sak prods, smiling wider than you thought humanly possible.

You plead with your eyes to Nam-Ra for help, but she’s just the same as the other two, fixing you with a mischievous grin. Su-Hyeok looks at you expectantly, waiting for an answer.

“Uh…I was just saying that I like,” you stall as you look around for a way out. Your gaze lands on a drink everyone has on their tray. “The banana milk!” You cringe as the words leave your mouth.

“Oh, in that case,” Su-Hyeok hands over his bottle to you. “Here, you can have mine.”

As he turns to his right to talk to Cheong-San, I-Sak flashes you a heart with her fingers discreetly, Nam-Ra elbows you in the arm playfully, and On-Jo—you’re going to get her big time for this.

Before Su-Hyeok is finished with his conversation and turns back to you, she mouths, “I love oo yoo.”

˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷3. Cheong-San

You have no idea why your friends decided to play soccer during lunch when it was scorching hot out, especially a day before exams, but followed nonetheless. On-Jo and I-Sak opted out and were currently benched, acting as cheerleaders. You, however, got dragged into the game as Nam-Ra was the referee and she didn’t want to be the lone girl on the field.

The sun was starting to make you sweat, and you chalked it up to the heat beating down on your head for the sudden dizziness you were feeling. You shook your head and tried to focus on the game that was about to start.

Cheong-San was right next to you, and on the far end of the field you could see Su-Hyeok playing goalie. As Dae-Su kicked off signaling the first half, you began to stagger as your vision becomes unfocused. Just when Cheong-San is about to sprint off in the direction of the ball Dae-Su had kicked, you grab onto his arm, stopping him.

“Cheong-San, I don’t feel too good,” you say.

He steadies you by the shoulder and peers at your face. “Y/N, you’re looking a little more than just pale. Do you think you’ll be okay? Want to sit down for a minute with On-Jo and I-Sak?” You close your eyes as your head spins but manage to give a weak nod when he checks your forehead temperature with his hand.

“Hey! What’s going on over there?” Someone screams across the field, questioning.

As Cheong-San takes your wrist to lead you back to the girls, your vision goes black and the last thing you remember is someone catching you to break your fall.

***

On-Jo and I-Sak were the first ones to reach you as Cheong-San tries to sit you up. He gets you to somewhat lean on his chest, an arm around your shoulder as the girls crowd around to see what they could do to help.

“Is Y/N alright?” Not getting a response, Nam-Ra checks your pulse and breathing. “Her heartbeat is a little fast, one of the tell-tale signs of heat exhaustion. Perhaps that's the case?”

“I think we should take her to the nurse either way,” On-Jo says, I-Sak nodding in agreement.

“On-Jo, come with me,” Cheong-San directs, as he maneuvers you for a proper piggyback.

“Move,” Su-Hyeok says, seriously.

“It’s okay, I got her,” Cheong-San replies as On-Jo helps to stabilize you on his back.

“I wasn’t asking.” Su-Hyeok slightly pushes Cheong-San.

“Guys, this isn’t the time to fight,” Nam-Ra admonishes, pointing at your unconscious form.

Without another word, Su-Hyeok picks you up easily and carries you away, with Cheong-San and On-Jo in tow all the way to the infirmary.

Once there, On-Jo decided to go get some snacks since everyone skipped lunch, leaving the two boys behind with you after the nurse assessed your condition.

Cheong-San starts chuckling quietly as Su-Hyeok glares at him.

“Why are you laughing?”

“I don’t find the situation funny, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m worried for Y/N as well.”

Su-Hyeok narrows his eyes at Cheong-San. “Why?”

Dumbfounded, Cheong-San replies, “Why would you ask that? She’s a good friend. We grew up together too you know.”

When Su-Hyeok doesn’t respond, Cheong-San nudges him with his foot under the bed to which the former just makes an incoherent noise. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

“I’m not jealous at all that you caught Y/N before she fainted.”

“I never mentioned that,” Cheong-San says between laughs, dimple on full display. “Would you rather I had dropped her to the ground? I don’t know why you would be mad when I was just lending a hand, and considering that you guys are dating and all…” he trails off.

“We’re not dating,” Su-Hyeok says flatly.

“Stop messing around with me Bare-Su,” Cheong-San teases, tilting his head in the direction of your small hands that Su-Hyeok was currently enveloping in his large ones.

“You idiot, I’m not kidding. We’re just friends; that’s all.” He doesn’t let go of your hands. If anything, he cradles them even tighter.

Cheong-San pauses, thinking whether to believe him or not. “Okay, hypothetically let’s say you guys aren’t together—"

“—Because we’re not,” Su-Hyeok interrupts.

“Hypothetically,” Cheong-San stresses. “Then, do you like Y/N?”

“Then, do you like On-Jo?”

“I asked first!”

“I—"

When you open your eyes, you’re met with a white ceiling and curtains, the sound of the machine displaying your vitals beeping away. Recognizing that you were in the school’s infirmary due to the IV drip and the strong smell of antiseptic, the only thing you remembered was fainting. Everything after is a blur.

You hear hushed whispers and realize it was Su-Hyeok and Cheong-San in the room with you. “What are you two idiots arguing about this time?” You rasp. Their heads whip towards you, shocked and simultaneously relieved.

“How much of our conversation did you hear?”

“That’s the first thing you ask me? I don’t even get a ‘how are you’?” You fake mock hurt at Su-Hyeok’s question.

“Are you okay?” Cheong-San asks.

“I like Cheong-San better,” you joke and stick your tongue out at Su-Hyeok as Cheong-San does the same.

“We were worried sick but I guess you’re fine now that you’re back to bullying me,” Su-Hyeok complains. “So feisty for such a tiny human.”

“Easy for you to carry,” Cheong-San mutters, earning a kick from Su-Hyeok. “OUCH!” He exclaims as he begins to rub his shin from the impact.

You look between the two of them, more confused than ever but decide to let it go. “Why am I here again? I only know I passed out.”

Su-Hyeok flicks you on the forehead. “The nurse said you were dehydrated and it seemed like you didn’t eat or sleep well enough. Coupled with the heat exhaustion, your already tired body couldn’t handle it and you went down.”

“Oh.”

“Oh? Is that all you can say? You scared me to death. You stayed up late studying again huh?”

“Maybe…” You reply guiltily. The boys shake their heads at your predictable nature. You always study like crazy but this has never happened before, so you were going to make sure to not accidentally neglect self-care for good grades again. “How did I get here from the field?”

“Cheong-San caught you and—"

“Awww, you did?” You sit up and spread your arms for a hug, having to let go of Su-Hyeok’s hands to do so. Cheong-San was going to return it until he turned to Su-Hyeok for permission.

“Why do you need to ask whether he’d allow it?” You roll your eyes. “My arms are getting tired.” You pull Cheong-San in for a hug and he returns the friendly gesture.

Just then, the door opens and On-Jo comes in with a plastic bag full of goodies. “Y/N, you’re awake!” She rushes over to squeeze the life out of you.

“On-Jo…can’t breathe,” you say in between pauses.

She lets you go and elbows Cheong-San. When he doesn’t get the hint, she takes him by the hand and drags him out, leaving the bag behind on the table for you. Just before the door closes, Cheong-San pops his head in again. “Su-Hyeok carried you in his arms all the way here!”

“AISH!” Su-Hyeok throws his backpack at the door, but the two had already left.

You turn to Su-Hyeok who won’t meet your gaze. Poking his arm, you tease him. “So, you do care.” If you had been awake at the time, surely you would be a living tomato with the stares you know for a fact you would be getting from being transported that way across school grounds.

Su-Hyeok just breathes out exasperatedly. “More than you know.” He said the line so quietly, you would’ve missed it if you weren’t paying attention.

Not knowing what came over you, you lean over and kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you,” you say. Both of you were surprised with matching blushes as proof.

Too embarrassed now for having been so bold, you make the excuse of feeling tired and lay down, turning your head to the other side to hide your smile. Su-Hyeok grabs your hand again even as you close your eyes.

His phone dings with a text and you hear him curse under his breath. “That little—“

Which could only mean one thing: Cheong-San.

[ Text: Are you sure you’re not dating? I saw everything through the window ]

˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷4. Gyeong-Su

You’re walking along the school’s skybridge when you hear someone calling.

“Y/N! Wait up!”

You stop and turn around, smiling when you see it’s Gyeong-Su. He’s such a sweetheart that your friend group always has a soft spot reserved for him.

He pants as he comes to a stop next to you, falling into pace by your side. “Geez, for someone with such short legs, you walk incredibly fast.”

“Is that all you wanted to say to me?” You push him.

Gyeong-Su laughs. “No, no. I’m just kidding. I have a favor to ask.”

“Glad to know you start asking for favors by first insulting the person.”

“I’m sorry okay!” He didn’t look sorry at all. “I need help with English. If I fail this next exam, I’d have to retake the class and the teacher and I already don’t get along,” he frowns.

“I’m not saying that I decline, but wouldn’t Nam-Ra be a better choice?”

“Sure, but she hasn’t studied abroad. You lived in New York for a year before high school.”

“Alright, but if your English has the accent of a New Yorker, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Better an accent than the Konglish I’m speaking with in class. Everyone always laughs when I have to read something.”

You giggle. “I can meet you in the library after our last class period. It’s a Friday anyway so we don’t have school tomorrow, which means we can stay a little later than usual. Does that work for you?”

“Yes! Thank you so much, Y/N.” Gyeong-Su looked so happy it was contagious. His smile suddenly falters as he leans in to tell you, “Although, I hope that you won’t let Su-Hyeok know.”

“What? What does he have to do anything?”

Gyeong-Su looks at you like you had two heads growing from your neck, gazing pointedly. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t want him to be mad that I’m spending time with you. He’d beat me up. It’s clear which of us would win in a fight, come on now.”

“Why would he be mad?” You inquire, baffled.

“You know, for ranking third place in class, you’re not as bright as I thought.”

“Watch it,” you warn, playfully angry.

“You’re supposed to be tutoring me for language skills but here I am, having to spell everything out for you.” Gyeong-Su gives you a moment to see if you would figure it out but when he sees the gears turning in your head, he sighs. “Su-Hyeok might get jealous and I don’t want that. You know, protective boyfriend and all. The what-have-you’s from all those dramas.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you say as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, which to you it certainly was.

“Whatever you say. If you see me one day with a black eye and a broken leg, you’re going to be held responsible for my hospital bills.”

You roll your eyes as Gyeong-Su waves and goes on his way, promising to meet up later.

***

A few hours pass and you find a seat in the corner of the library where it’s more silent and there’s a window nook in between two bookshelves against the wall; it was your favorite study spot aside from your bedroom.

Gyeong-Su is more punctual than you imagined, showing up barely a few minutes after you with all his study materials. At the moment, his backpack could be used as a weapon with everything he packed inside.

“Are you sure you’re here to study, or are you preparing for war?” You stare in amazement as he pulls endless amounts of materials from his bag.

“I wasn’t kidding about not wanting to repeat class.” An English textbook comes slamming onto the table and you shush him hurriedly. Thankfully, the other students are too busy studying with their headphones in to mind the noise.

“We can work on spelling first,” you guide as you flip through his workbook.

You’re surprised at how fast Gyeong-Su learns after just a few units, and even more proud at the effort he puts into grasping the subject. Perhaps you could finally understand why teachers always glow when their students succeed.

“Wow, would you look at that. I’m a great tutor,” you boast.

“Your ego is pretty great too.”

You hit him on the head with a pencil but he just laughs it off. Your phone keeps vibrating with messages, so not wanting it to be a distraction, you put it on ‘do not disturb’ mode without checking the notifications on screen and proceed to place it upside down on the table.

Both you and Gyeong-Su are too focused on your studies to notice Su-Hyeok coming into the library.

“Y/N, did you lose your phone?”

You look up, even more surprised than Gyeong-Su at his presence. “How did you know we were here?”

“You didn’t tell him? Wow, I’ll remember that the next time I have a secret I need you to keep,” Gyeong-Su says, fascinated.

“I waited an hour for you at the school gates to walk home together, but you never showed up so I texted Cheong-San and he said you were tutoring Gyeong-Su in the library.”

“Oh my god, I totally forgot.” You put your hand on your head. Su-Hyeok would always walk you home as you two live in the same area, neighbors to be exact. “I’m so sorry you had to wait that long. It totally slipped my mind!” He didn’t look mad, just tired. “You can go home without me you know. I wouldn’t want you to wait even longer. I still have a few chapters left to help Gyeong-Su with.”

“Are you kidding? I’m not letting you go by yourself in the dark. A few more hours is nothing.” Before you can refuse, he dumps his backpack on the floor and scoots the adjacent chair closer to yours, sits down, and leans his head on your shoulder. “Wake me up when you’re done.”

He’s out cold in a few minutes, and you can only blame it on sleep deprivation; the badge every high school student wears proudly.

“Now that the boyfriend is sleeping and won’t fight me—“

“How many times do I have to tell you, Gyeong-Su? We’re not dating.”

“Sure, because that’s totally what friends do,” he says sarcastically.

As he goes back to his notes, you look down at Su-Hyeok leaning on you, moving his hair out of his eyes carefully so as not to wake him. Were his eyelashes always that long? His nose bridge so high? His skin so clear? His lips—

“Earth to Y/N,” Gyeong-Su waves his hand in your face. “You guys sure have a thing for staring at the other when they’re asleep. You know, it’s the same look on your faces too.”

“What? We don’t do that.”

“First, he gets caught by the whole class and now you get caught by me. You’re lucky it’s just one person who’s seeing this.”

You brush aside the first thing Gyeong-Su says, because Su-Hyeok having feelings for you? Impossible.

“I wasn’t staring!” That draws the attention of a few students nearby.

“Fine, admiring tastefully then.”

You look down at Su-Hyeok again. “You have to admit, it’s pretty endearing seeing someone sleep.”

Gyeong-Su snorts. “You’re just saying that because it’s Su-Hyeok. If it was me, you would’ve already sent me flying clear across the room with a kick.”

Not really being able to argue with that, you ignore it and turn back to give Gyeong-Su another exercise when Su-Hyeok stirs. “Next, can you describe us all with one word and spell it correctly?”

He ponders for a moment before pointing to himself: “Amazing.” A-M-A-Z-I-N-G is the first line on his notebook.

Next, he points to Su-Hyeok: “Barefoot.” You laugh at the accuracy while Su-Hyeok curses Gyeong-Su. It’s even funnier seeing him write it down in all seriousness. B-A-R-E-F-O-O-T is the next line.

A pencil aims at your face as Gyeong-Su mocks: “Gnome.”

“You’re getting awfully comfortable with the short jokes there.” G-N-O-M-E goes down in the third line.

“She’s just petite,” Su-Hyeok tries to defend you, doing a horrible job at it.

“Great, she thinks you’re lovable and he thinks you’re cute.”

“You do?!” You and Su-Hyeok say to one another at the same time.

“The two of you aren’t fooling anyone with this ‘We’re not together’ thing. Here’s a word to describe both of you. Gyeong-Su scribbles something quickly down on the notepad in perfect English and holds it up sideways for you as he reads it out loud, gesturing with his pointer finger between you and Su-Hyeok:

┌──────────┐

ᑕOᑌᑭᒪE ♡

└──────────┘

˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷5. Nam-Ra

No one ever comes to class early like she does, and so Nam-Ra is more than surprised to see Su-Hyeok of all people stepping foot into the room, the slide of the wooden door announcing his entrance. He jumps when he sees her already there.

“What is it?” Nam-Ra cuts to the chase.

“Uh…nothing,” Su-Hyeok stammers.

“Whatever’s in your hands doesn’t seem like nothing.”

He quickly hides the note behind his back.

Nam-Ra raises an eyebrow at this and taps your still-empty desk. “Go ahead and put it here. I’ll let Y/N know.”

“It’s not for her.”

“Su-Hyeok, you’re talking to me, not Dae-Su. I don’t believe that statement in the slightest.”

Su-Hyeok sighs as he walks over to your seat and sits down. “Prez, I need advice.”

“Hmm, what did On-Jo call it? Lover’s quarrel, was it? I’m not that experienced to be a love guru.”

“We’re not—"

“Cut it out. No matter how many times you guys deny it, it won’t make it true.”

“But—"

“Nope.” Seeing as he wasn’t going to say anything else, Nam-Ra smiles to herself. If she can keep this up, maybe they’ll actually stop dancing around one another. “Now, why are you here and not with Y/N like you usually are?”

“She’s mad at me.”

“I find that hard to believe, but explain.”

“Y/N has been avoiding me and I don’t know why. We were fine still during the study session with Gyeong-Su, but after that day she’s been keeping her distance. She flinches when I so much as sit near her, when I talk to her, she can’t look me in the eyes, and when we walk home together, she’s always speeding ahead. I think I might’ve done something wrong, but I also don’t think I have? That’s why I was planning to put this apology letter on her desk.”

Nam-Ra brushes her hand down her face at the absurdity of the situation. “You guys are hopeless.”

“Excuse me?”

“Are you telling me or asking me about whether you messed up?”

“Uh…both?”

“Gosh, you’re clueless.”

“I didn’t know advice came with being bashed.”

“Just answer ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to my following questions.” Nam-Ra receives a nod in response.

“Look, you haven’t done anything wrong right?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Does Y/N turn red when you’re near?”

“Yes, now that you mention it.”

“Is she becoming more flustered now when she never was before?”

“Also a yes to that question.” Su-Hyeok’s eyes widen and when Nam-Ra finally thinks he’s pieced it together, he hits her with the entire force of collective obliviousness in the world. “Oh no! Do you think she’s come down with something? Is she sick?”

“Aigoo!” She smacks him on the head with her workbook.

“Hey! What was that for?”

“Focus!”

“I was until you gave me a concussion!”

“That’s not how that works—oh never mind! Just, think! I know it’s not something you usually tend to do, but try!”

“As long as you don’t hit me again.”

Nam-Ra ignores his previous words and continues. “Since you said you guys aren’t together I’ll believe it just for today.”

“There’s nothing to believe or not, we really don’t have that kind of a relationship.”

“But do you want to?”

“I don’t think she likes me like that—"

“Yes or no only.”

“Fine, yes. I can’t believe I’m telling you before I tell Y/N.” Su-Hyeok slumps in his seat.

“So, you like her.” Nam-Ra states it as is, no longer questioning.

“I can’t say no now after what I said earlier, so yes. I really do.”

“Then just go tell her. It’s not that hard. You’re making a simple thing more difficult than quantum mechanics.”

“Does Y/N even like me back for me to confess?”

“Yes. You’re a fool for not noticing it: the avoidance, the distance, the shyness. Any of that ring a bell?” She can pinpoint exactly when the realization hits him. “Everyone can see it except for the two of you. I’m shocked that it took me to smack some sense into you; literally and metaphorically.”

“I always thought that all friends were like us.”

“In what world? Friends don’t look at each other like that.”

Su-Hyeok springs up from his chair with a hasty thank you, promising to think it through before confessing, and rushes off to who knows where.

When he leaves, Nam-Ra sits alone pondering whether she should just change her last name to Cupid.

Cheong-San and On-Jo clearly need some arrows as well.

˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷ +1

When Cheong-San’s mom invites the friend group to their chicken restaurant for a free meal, no one could decline.

You and Su-Hyeok come in a bit later after everyone had already started eating, hand-in-hand.

“There’s the cute couple!” Cheong-San’s mom exclaims, handing over the largest platter of fried chicken you’ve seen in your life.

“Mrs. Lee, they’re not—” everyone at the table choruses in unison, except for Nam-Ra.

“We are!” You say, holding up your clasped hands.

Dae-Su drops his chicken on the floor in shock and everyone’s mouths hang open comically in silence.

“Mwoya? Have you been fooling us all this time?” Your friends talk over one another, but the sentence is somehow comprehensible.

“Just ourselves,” Su-Hyeok admits, looking down at you fondly, only to see you already gazing up at him.

┈┈┈┈┈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.

hii<3 heres a request for ethan where he has a huge crush on the reader but the reader has a really terrible boyfriend & ethan confesses when he sees the boyfriend cheating and its just a bunch of angst. sorry this is all long i hope you can get to this! love ur writing btw !!

HI ANON 🩷🩷🩷 I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS IDEA IM REALLY SORRY I HAVENT GOTTEN THE CHANCE TO GET TO IT BUT I WILL EITHER THIS WEEK OR THE NEXT

Being a girl is: wanting to go to bed early but deciding to just get on tumblr/wattpad/Ao3 for a little bit and then end up finding a fic series that you really like and read until well past your usual bedtime then keeping on because it’s already past your bedtime. Then being mad when you wake up in the morning because you overslept your timer.

I actually need more hyuntak fics rn pls where is it

*starts giggling uncontrollably*

*ೃ࿐TO FAULT A NET

[ ACT IV: REAP WHAT YOU SOW ]

spider-man! ethan landry x black cat! reader

#SYNOPSIS— your reputation matters more than you think, superheroes aren't good with emotions, mindy and chad are always ready to fight each other, and ethan can recognize you by your smile alone.

#CONTAINS— enemies to lovers, slowburn, antihero&vigilante reader, familial issues, implication of ptsd, gore, blood, murder, death, reader is overly flirtatious, reader & ethan had trust issues

#AUTHORSNOTE— ethan and the reader are so 'she fell first but he fell harder' coded, also this was supposed to be one long part but i spit it into two bc tumblr wouldn't let me edit so i'm sorry in advance xx

ACT I, ACT II, ACT III, ACT IV, ACT V

you still couldn't believe that you had brought the hero over into your apartment.

your promise to catch ghostface with him was followed by a pregnant pause as you both sipped your glasses of water. the hero was still playing with your cats (they loved him) as he drank water, his mind trying to process what had just happened.

from behind the mask, ethan wanted to cry. he wanted to sob and break everything in his path because he had just lost quinn, and he blamed himself for it all.

the sound of your feet shuffling away from him made him look at you in interest. you were moving carefully, the stitches he had done to your side inhibiting your movement. ethan could see how uncomfortable you felt, but you hid it from him as you began taking out two pots, putting it into your sink to fill both with water.

"should i go?" ethan began, carefully picking up your cats and putting them on the floor. he stood up. "you seem.."

you pulled out two ramen packets, looking at him with a raised brow. you then walked to your fridge, pulling out two eggs.

"you seem busy. making food." he swallowed thickly, watching as you placed the eggs to the side and put your pots of water on the stove before turning on the heat.

"i am kind of busy," you said pointedly, glancing at your pots of water before looking at the hero. the upper portion of your face was still hidden by your black mask, but ethan could see your indifferent gaze as you studied him. "why, do you wanna stay?"

the whites of his mask blinked at that. his mask, still pulled up to reveal half his face, revealed how he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, thinking about your offer. he seemed unsure. distrustful. exhausted; which honestly, made sense.

you gave him time to think as you turned to your now boiling water. you put the two eggs into one pot before opening the packets of ramen. but your actions faltered when you heard his response.

".. do you want me to stay?" the hero asked you, tilting his head slightly.

a beat. "no." you stated dryly, putting the ramen noodles into the water. "but i feel like you've been eyeing my food ever since i asked— it's kind of hard to tell with the whole mask thing —but i'm guessing you're hungry."

the parts of his face that were unmasked turned a soft shade of red at that. ethan cleared his throat, walking towards where you stood, he leaned on your counter with his back to the countertop. you could feel his eyes on you, watching you as you used a fork to mix the noodles in the boiling water.

"so you do want me to stay," he said with a ghost of a smile.

"no, i don't. but you're staying regardless, aren't you?"

"just for the food," he hummed. "and your cats."

"not for my presence, spider?" you asked, your flirtatious side coming out of you.

"your kind presence?" he tsked. "no." he said, making you roll your eyes. but he saw that rare, downturned smile that tugged at your lips.

his sister. quinn is his sister.

the sudden pause in your actions made ethan peer at you from behind his mask. the realization of what he had said dawned on him, his eyes widening from behind mask.

"she was like a sister to me."

he was lying to you.

you were both playing an unspoken game, two brilliant people with incredible abilities constantly one upping each other, catching onto the clues and making conclusions before the other could reach them. pushing and pulling, trying to solve a string of killers all while hiding who you really were from someone you found stitching up even though you knew you didn't have to.

you quickly returned to stitching him up, your hands now steady as you pushed the needle into his skin again. it reminded you so much of your past, how your world and your idea of your father turned completely sideways when you patched him up. the mere action of patching someone else up who wasn't you made turmoil brew in your eyes.

you were a selfish person. you had stepped on other criminals to get what you wanted, stepped on other people in order to achieve the highest reward; the criminal world knew better than to trust you completely for fear of your lies and manipulation. but to you, patching up someone's injury was something akin to sacred.

it meant you cared.

and that terrified you.

you came to one conclusion as you stitched up his wound for once, your memories were muffled, overtaken by the connection you had made.

ethan was spider-man.

and he knew you made that connection. just by how quiet you had gotten, just by how your hands, once trembling with the weight of the past, steadied.

you couldn't say anything. not without compromising your own true identity. not without compromising the deal you two had, because who would the police care about more, the identity of a superhero or the identity of a woman who had been stealing since she was a child? who had stolen files from their department and gave them to others without another word, who at times stole evidence just to be able to pay the rent.

you couldn't have him know. and you couldn't have him turn you in.

always one step ahead of him. but for some unknown reason, he could read you like his favorite book, and you could study him as though he was your favorite painting. it was as though your mind had chosen to learn his sincerity, and his learned the hidden meanings behind your written words.

but if you knew his family relations, just how close were you to the group? the fact that you most likely knew who he was behind the mask terrified him, because not only did he not know who you were, but you were only working with him because of a deal.

he couldn't turn you in if you helped him catch the killer.

feeding into your suspicions would only give you leverage above him. something to feed to the mafia, to the criminals, to anyone. and more people would get hurt.

you were untrustworthy. maybe it was because his sister died, or maybe because ethan had been stressing over everything so much that he found himself shutting down his emotions again and again for the sake of finding the killer.

he needed to get you away.

"i have to go." he stood up abruptly, his wound only halfway stitched up.

"what?" your eyes widened at his words. "now? i'm not even done stitching you up—"

"i'll do the rest myself."

"like hell you will," you snapped, the sudden change in his mood making you not only confused, but curious. "i'll finish it—" you protested, walking after him as he made his way to the window. but before he could shove your window open, he turned to you.

"why're you helping me?"

his question made your breath hitch, the words on your tongue dying as you blinked.

because i'm not as heartless as you think i am. oh, i also need you to not turn me into the police, so i can't have you dying in gale weather's apartment. but there's more to that.

"you patched me up," you forced out, "i'm returning the favor."

"you and i both know that you don't just patch people up like this." the whites of his mask narrowed at you, his heartbeat pumping loudly in his ears.

"what's that supposed to mean?" you asked slowly, suddenly annoyed at his words.

the hero let out a huff, his filter completely gone and manipulated by the constant stress and turmoil he had felt over the past week. "even the police know that you've manipulated your way around criminals and mafias because everyone knows you work alone," he said through gritted teeth. "you don't act kind just because you care—"

"fuck you," you seethed, but you couldn't deny it. you had a long history of manipulation, of acting for your own benefit and choosing yourself over others. and the deal to never get caught by him was still weighing on your mind.

"you act like you care to get your way. but if i'm wrong, then tell me." from behind the mask, ethan studied your face, brows furrowed when he looked at you. "tell me that you're not known for doing that. that you're not still in this because you're just trying to make sure i won't turn you in to the police in the future. tell me that you're genuinely starting to care, that you aren't just using me. tell me."

there was a beat of silence. your jaw clenched as you looked into the whites of his mask, not backing down from his stare. he was so close to you. his breath fanned over your lips, his own lips slightly parted.

it seemed as though the tension thickened with every passing second as you wracked your brain for what to say. for what to tell him.

because as much as he was correct, if you were to just agree, it didn't feel honest. there was more to your actions, but even you didn't know what it was.

but that was a lie too. you knew exactly why your actions were becoming more selfless, why you found yourself thinking about others more and more. thinking about him more and more.

you were getting attached.

and because you couldn't say anything, because you had never been good with speaking about your emotions, you did what your gut told you to.

you hooked your finger on the collar of his suit and tugged him in, pressing your lips to his. you felt his breath hitch before his hand went to your neck, slowly moving up to hold the back of your head as he pulled you closer to him, his other hand pulling your waist closer to his body. your senses were full of him and only him, how he smelled like like cedarwood and musk, how he tasted sweet despite the blood he spat from his mouth earlier, how he was so warm, like a furnace that soothed your cold limbs.

you pulled away from him, your forehead resting on his. a single string of spit connecting the both of your lips with a single horizontal swipe of your tongue across your bottom lip, the connection was broken.

his adam's apple bobbed as his heavy breaths matched yours. "please tell me you're not just in it for the deal anymore."

your lack of a response made his heart ache. he searched for any sign of hesitancy in your eyes, something, anything to showed that you cared, but you avoided his gaze.

the deal still mattered to you. you were using him to evade police. his face fell at the realization.

the hero scoffed in disbelief, pulling away from you. just like that, your limbs were pulled away from the heat, your world didn't smell like cedarwood and him, and the taste of pennies was all you could feel on your tongue. "right." his finger hooked over where his mask was pulled up, pulling it down over the rest of his face as he opened your window. without another word, he swung away, making you clench your fists in frustration.

in the end, you always had yourself.

you tore your mask off your head, frustrated tears burning behind your eyes as you moved to your window and shut it, this time, making sure you locked it behind you.

"you're a liar! let me go—" you kicked against the man's arms that wrapped around you as though you were practically nothing but a box he had to carry. tears blurred your vision as you looked at the man in front of you, his grey eyes cold as he looked at you.

you used to look up to him. your father used to bring him into your home— the only person you ever remembered visiting —introducing him as frank costa. uncle frank.

he had taken you in after your father had died. cared for you, fed you, provided you shelter. you were 16 now, making it six years since he stepped in as your father figure. six years since he claimed that as your father's best friend, that he felt like it was his duty to care for you.

it was all a lie. it was all a lie, because he was the reason why your father was caught escaping prison. it was all because of him.

"let me go!" you cried, your screams of betrayal turning into sobs as your head hung low, tears dripping onto the concrete floor. he was using you. using you to continuously steal for him in exchange for the simple necessities you needed to survive. and as you grew older, as your skills became more precise, so did his greed. your thefts grew larger. pick pocketed wallets became jewelry from houses, and then that became jewelry from museums.

you were being used. used for your skills, trained to become some thief simply to survive a day.

"i always guessed that this day would come, you know," frank said, looking at you as though you were nothing. as though those years of pretending to care was finally coming out for what it truly was; hatred. pure contempt. "you were always so clever. just like your fucking father." he punched you in the face, making you groan in pain when you felt a crack in your nose. "so fucking stupid. refusing the biggest crime family in new york for what? for nothing." another punch to the other side of your face. his crony let you go, making you fall on the floor.

a swift kick to your side made you taste iron. another kick to your back made you nearly lose consciousness.

frank grabbed you by the collar, lifting you up to study you cruelly. there wasn't anything in his eyes as he admired his work of bruises and injuries, watching as blood flowed from your nose like a continuous faucet. your eyes were half lidded as you drifted in and out of consciousness. the weight of your head was too much for you, and you found yourself struggling to keep it up.

and when you found the little bit of strength to do so, you spat in his face, the splatter bloody along the expanse of his cheek. but as you spat, your hand also curled around the gun he kept at his side.

"you fucking bitch," frank sneered at you before shoving you to the ground again, making you skid against the concrete. the rough graveled ground made gashes all along your exposed arms and legs, and you found yourself lying in a fetus position, cradling the gun to your chest to hide it from them.

and as he and his worker advanced towards you, ready to beat you to death, you pointed the gun towards them and shot them both. his worker in the head, frank in the chest.

you listened as frank choked on his own blood next to you. you sat there in that empty warehouse, listening to the squelching sounds of blood pouring from frank's mouth. pulling your legs to your chest, feeling the continuous pain from all over your body, you cried. you cried like the 16 year old you were, your back heaving with every gut-wrenching sob you let echo around you. when that was all you heard, when you were surrounded by your own sobs, you realized just how lonely you were. how you had no one, and how you wished that someone would come in to care for you. but no one did.

no one was looking for you, no one comforted you. because all you had was yourself.

patrol was quieter when he was alone.

ethan realized that now, as he watched policemen fix the caution tapes around the carpenter sisters' apartment. usually he wasn't one to shy away from playful banter with the policemen (as he felt as though they all had sticks up their asses in some way), but he had no energy. no drive. he hadn't, not for a while.

without you shamelessly commenting on everything and humoring him with your dry humor, he found the nights to be quieter. not necessarily more peaceful, but quieter regardless. ethan wasn't sure if he appreciated it, but it's what he wanted.

his mind was full of the killer, his sister, and most importantly, you. how you seemingly oozed distrust, how your appreciation and oftentimes liking for your position as a criminal made you the last person many people would choose as an ally.

but then his mind drifted to how you didn't hesitate to drag him into your home and patch him up. how, despite the memories that obviously plagued your mind, you forced yourself to continue on.

but then brought up the question of your possible knowledge of his identity. why didn't you say anything? admitting his true name did make him realize that you probably did know him outside of his mask. and that would make him suspicious of your identity.

it was all too complicated, and ethan felt so many emotions at this point, that he just felt numb. apathetic. like a mindless robot going about his day, eating with no appetite, drinking with no thirst. just surviving.

it had carried on even in his day to day activities outside of superhero work. it had been three days since the last attack, and everyone was surprised that there had been nothing. no threats, no calls, nothing. but even though everyone was surprised and only mildly pleased, they were still all on edge.

the door to his and chad's dorm opened as tara walked in with mindy. ethan didn't look up from his position on the couch, only raising his hand in a half assed wave towards them. his eyes were set on his phone as he mindlessly scrolled through social media, ready to drown out whatever they were talking about.

"we were gonna stay in tonight, maybe order takeout. it isn't safe for us to all be split up," tara said to you as you hesitantly walked into chad and ethan's dorm.

"you should join, y/n. you know, just so that we can watch over you," mindy stated, and you shrugged as you closed the door behind you. if anything, you appreciated mindy's honesty more than most.

"why not," you said in response, face falling when your eyes landed on ethan's. he seemed to not expect your presence either as he stared at you, his lips slightly parted, throat suddenly dry, face slightly flushed.

there it was again, that sense of familiarity he felt.

"hi," ethan said awkwardly, swallowing thickly as he quickly moved a bit to the side of the couch just in case you wanted to sit. "i— uh, haven't seen you in a while."

but he had. you forced a tight-lipped smile, one that didn't really reach your eyes as you took his silent offer and sat on the other side of the couch. "thanks," you murmured, looking away from him to stare at the t.v that played some show.

a beat of silence. "are you okay?" he suddenly asked you, making you glance at him. those brown eyes of his— the same eyes you always wondered were behind the mask —stared at you expectingly.

"i should be asking you that," you replied smoothly, easily lying past your emotions.

"but i asked you first."

"so?"

"so, you answer first. c'mon," ethan pushed, worry flashing in his eyes as he noted your lack of sleep.

you blinked at him. "i'm fine. i feel.. fine." another lie. "your turn to answer."

ethan shrugged, looking at the t.v show. "better than before, in some ways. i guess."

"hey—" mindy walked out of chad's room to look at the both of you, her hand covering the bottom of her phone. "i'm ordering chinese takeout right now. what did you two want?"

you thought for a second. "is it from the place on mott street?"

she nodded.

"i'll have the braised noodles and beef." you caught the look ethan gave you from the corner of your eye. "what? that place is good."

a ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. "i'll have the same thing," he told mindy, who gave them both a thumbs up before disappearing into chad's room again. "d'you eat there a lot?" ethan asked you, unable to stop his curiosity.

"i did. used to be my favorite place when i was younger." you tilted your head slightly as you turned your body a bit to face him. as he spoke, it made more and more sense for him to be the web-slinging hero. ethan was more serious when he was behind the mask, sure, but the way he talked was the same.

"i haven't had the time to try as many restaurants around here as i wanted to," ethan said.

"i can bring you to my favorite spots some time." the offer fell from your mouth before you could catch it, but it made a genuine, hopeful smile appear on his face.

his smile was the same too.

you turned your body away from him and didn't speak to him after that. you had to keep yourself away from him. there was no reason for you to care.

an hour and a half passed before the food actually arrived. the entire group— tara, sam, sam's boyfriend (danny, you learned his name was), mindy, and chad —all sat in the living room, some of them sitting on the floor.

"we are not watching a scary movie, mindy! this is arguably the worst time to do that!" chad said to his twin, who only rolled her eyes stubbornly.

"the original nightmare on elm street is literally a masterpiece— chad, give me the remote!" she lunged towards him as he held it away from her, their bickering making you watch on interestedly.

you slurped a noodle, chewing it briefly before swallowing. "are they always like this?" you murmured to yourself, watching as mindy finally snatched the remote from chad. sam and danny occupied the other half of the couch, making you (much to your chagrin) move closer to ethan.

noodles slipped from his chopsticks again, a frustrated huff escaping him as he tried to pick it up again. his focus was honed into trying to pick up the noodle, so much so, that he didn't answer your question.

you turned to him, the past promise you made yourself to try and not engage faltering as you watched him amusedly. you watched for a minute until he realized you were staring, his cheeks flaring in embarrassment.

"thanks for the help, y/n," ethan muttered sarcastically. he watched as a genuine smile tugged at your lips. a downturned one, one that fit you so well, one that made ethan's eyes widen when he figured it all out.

"not for my presence, spider?" you asked, your flirtatious side coming out of you.

"your kind presence?" he tsked. "no." he said, making you roll your eyes. but he saw that rare, downturned smile that tugged at your lips.

it was you. it had been you the entire time.

and you saw the slow realization dawn over his face. the way his face paled, the way his chopsticks fell into the takeout box. the way he breathed, "you," as he stared. he finally figured it all out.

"i have to go," were the first words that fell from your mouth right as the movie began. you ignored the protests from the others as you carefully moved past them, grabbing your coat from the hook near the door.

"nightmare on elm street was about to start!" mindy protested behind you.

"y/n," ethan said, hurriedly putting his takeout on the side table. he would've nearly dropped it if it weren't for his quick reflexes, catching the box before it could drop. and spill. further. but when he looked back at the door, the door was already shutting.

the cold air hit you harshly as you walked out of the dorm building. the starless sky only held the moon as it shone down onto you, joining the street lamps as you walked down the pavement trail. hugging your leather jacket around you, your steps were quick as you made your way to your car, heart beating quickly in your ears.

"y/n!"

ethan's voice called after you, making your blood run cold. "go away," you snapped, ignoring the hoarseness of your voice as you tried to keep walking away. but he was quick to follow.

"just talk to me—"

"talk to you?" that made you turn around and look at him, an incredulous look on your face. "after all the shit you told me? after what you said?"

"you didn't deny any of it, did you?" ethan retorted, hurt and guilt flashing in his eyes. "when i asked you if you were starting to care, you said nothing." his eyes looked over your face. "i asked you to say you weren't just using me and you said nothing. you couldn't even deny it—"

"why does it matter?" you laughed in disbelief. "why do you care so much? you said it before, right? i'm the criminal? you're the hero?" you demanded, jabbing a finger to his chest.

ethan's jaw clenched in frustration as he looked at you, feeling every jab of your finger. "i didn't want you to just see me as some way to get away from the police—"

"then how do you want me to see you, ethan?" you bit back.

"as someone you can fucking care for, y/n!" he snapped. "as someone you can trust! as someone beyond just a guy you made a deal with!" his confession rang in the air, his chest heaving at his outburst. ethan's gaze was hard as he stared at you. "i wanted you," he breathed out, "to care for me as much as i was starting to care for you."

your cold gazed faltered for a moment at that. ethan was searching your eyes for something, for any sign of care, but as soon as he saw it, it disappeared.

you only had yourself. you only had yourself. he did not deserve to have someone like you.

he deserved better.

"most of the mafias knew nothing about the killer. some even admired him." you avoided his gaze, turning slightly away from him. "i'll go with the group to the theatre tomorrow, and after that, that's it. my part of the deal is done." you tried to walk away from him, but his hand took your wrist, stopping you.

you turned to look at him, eyes shining with the possibility of tears. the once lighthearted eyes of his had lost all the spark in them as he looked at you. studying you like you studied your favorite paintings. taking in your every feature, your every angle, your every imperfection. "do you really not care about me?" the question came out as a breath, his heart beating loudly in his chest as you looked at him.

you could feel tears threatening to feel. your nerves were going haywire from the argument, but also because of the fear you felt. the fear of caring for someone so much.

how could he care for you as much as you cared about him?

you shook your head. ethan's heart broke.

ACT V

#AUTHOR'S NOTE— sorry again for the fact that i had to split the last part into two parts. there's still the next part left & the epilogue!

#TAGLIST— @ethanlvndry , @iloveneilperry , @starsfilm , @goosenoggin , @aminatic , @wenvierismycomfort , @l5byrinth , @wroetoslut , @briefwinnerpersonaturtle , @oliviapopewannabe , @wzrlds , @raggedyoldwitch , @hotweeb , @marsyay78 , @valenftcrush , @bonkyandsteeb3000 , @bubs-world , @danis-stuff-is-here , @nuhteyam , @ravenstrueluv , @taeversity , @heartipods , @gcidrvsh , @theapulidooo , @volturi-girl-imagines , @duolingofanaccount , @buorke , @grxcisxhy-wp , @strangerdangerwrites , @mrslandryy , @michaelangdonsslut

*ೃ༄songs neteyam would put on your playlist˚◞♡ ⃗

a/n: no one asked for this, but this is what i listen to while reading neteyam fics hehe

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆

after last night - silk sonic

sweet - cigarettes after sex

les - childish gambino

die for you (remix) - the weeknd

give you the world - steve lacy

hell n back - bakar

stargazing - the neighbourhood

home - edward sharpe & the magnetic zeros

yebbas heartbreak - drake

her - raury

wasteland, baby! - hozier

do you like me? - daniel caesar

i think i like when it rains - willis

so my darling (acoustic) - rachel chinouriri

i wanna be yours - arctic monkeys

love’s train - silk sonic

cherry wine (live) - hozier

versace on the floor - bruno mars

nobody’s business - rihanna

stargirl interlude - the weeknd

my kind of woman - mac demarco

habits - genevieve stokes

pink + white - frank ocean

starry eyes - the weeknd

like real people do - hozier

bound 2 - kanye west

girl with the tattoo - miguel

some - steve lacy

so anxious - ginuwine

always forever - cults

stuck with u - ariana grande

those eyes - new west

kiss u right now - duckwrth

snow on the beach - taylor swift

me and your mama - childish gambino

melting - kali uchis

fall in love with you. - montell fish

heavenly - cigarettes after sex

no other heart - mac demarco

would that i - hozier

lost in the fire (ft. the weeknd) - gesaffelstein

pretty boy - the neighborhood

once more to see you - mitski

sure thing - miguel

n side - steve lacy

im yours - isabel larosa

heaven can wait - michael jackson

glue song - beabadoobee

when will i see you again - shakka

after hours - the weeknd

sunsetz - cigarettes after sex

heart to heart - mac demarco

work song - hozier

Arcade date

Pairing: Gotak x GN!Reader

Genre: Fluff 🎀

Warnings: none, just teasing and soft moments

Summary: You wait for him outside the arcade, and he shows up late—with snacks and that smug little smile of his.

You were leaning against the wall outside the arcade, arms crossed, trying to look unimpressed—even though your phone said he was fifteen minutes late. Typical.

Then, finally, he showed up. Hoodie half-zipped, bag of snacks in one hand, the most unapologetic smirk on his face.

“Wow,” you said flatly. “Nice of you to show up.”

“I brought chips,” he replied, as if that made up for everything.

You took the bag anyway, muttering, “You’re lucky I was craving these.”

He leaned in a little, just close enough for you to catch the faint scent of his cologne. “You’re lucky I showed up at all. I almost stayed in bed.”

“Should’ve,” you shot back. “Would’ve saved me the trouble.”

He grinned. “Liar. You missed me.”

You turned away, cheeks warming, pretending to examine a crack in the sidewalk. “Whatever.”

Gotak just chuckled under his breath and bumped your shoulder lightly. “You’re so dramatic when you’re flustered.”

“I’m not flustered.”

“You are. It’s cute.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he suddenly grabbed your hand—just like that, no warning—and started pulling you toward the arcade entrance. His hand was warm, steady. You didn’t pull away.

“I got a handful of coins,” he said, proudly. “So prepare to lose in every single game.”

“Oh please, I’m gonna wipe the floor with you.”

“You say that now.” He looked back at you, eyes gleaming. “But we both know you let me win when I pout.”

You scoffed, but smiled.

The lights inside the arcade were flashing in every direction—neon blues, reds, greens—and the place smelled like buttered popcorn and cheap carpet. It was loud too, packed with clinking tokens and kids yelling, but none of that really mattered.

Gotak still hadn’t let go of your hand.

“Alright,” he said, tossing a coin up and catching it. “Let’s start with something easy so you don’t cry when I win.”

You scoffed. “You talk too much for someone who’s about to lose.”

“Ohhh,” he grinned. “Talk like that and you’re cute? Dangerous combo.”

You rolled your eyes but followed him to the racing games. He shoved two coins into the slot, plopped down in the driver’s seat next to you, and shot a side glance like he was already planning his victory speech.

“Don’t cry when I lap you,” he said, gripping the wheel.

“You wish,” you said, already buckling in.

The race started—and for the first few seconds, you were ahead. Gotak narrowed his eyes, leaning forward in focus. He bumped your car. You bumped his harder. He started fake yelling.

“You’re actually evil.”

You laughed. “Drive better then!”

He did win, but only by a fraction of a second. He pumped his fists like he’d won an Olympic gold. “Victory tastes like salt and broken dreams,” he announced proudly, holding a dramatic hand to his chest.

“Victory tastes like ego,” you said, but you were smiling.

Gotak slung an arm around your shoulders casually, like he’d done it a million times. “Alright. One more game. And if I win again… you owe me a prize.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What kind of prize?”

He leaned down just a little, smirk crooked. “Surprise me.”

You shoved him away with a laugh, but the way your heart jumped said maybe you wouldn’t mind losing again.

You both stood in front of the claw machine next, where a ridiculous number of tiny plushies sat in a jumbled heap. Gotak cracked his knuckles, looking way too confident.

“You’re not getting anything,” you replied, arms crossed. “These machines are rigged.”

You watched as he dropped a token in and gripped the controls like his life depended on it. The claw descended, wobbled, and somehow—by some miracle—actually grabbed a small pink dinosaur. It held on just long enough to drop it perfectly into the chute.

Gotak gasped. “Witness my power.”

You blinked. “No way. No freaking way.”

He picked up the plush and handed it to you with an exaggerated bow. “For you, my loser.”

You didn’t even think. You just stepped forward, grabbed his hoodie, and kissed him.

It wasn’t dramatic, not slow or planned—it was quick and flustered and warm. You pulled back just enough to see the stunned look on his face.

“That’s your prize,” you mumbled.

Gotak stood there for a second, eyes wide, blinking like someone had just reset his brain.

Then he grinned. “I was gonna ask for a soda. That was way better.”

You shoved the plush at him, already turning away to hide the way your face was heating up, but he followed close behind, bumping your shoulder, still grinning like an idiot.

“Hey,” he whispered, voice softer now. “Wanna lose again?”

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

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

i mean just look at them 🙏🙏