Jude And Trent Post Match Pics Please🤞🥹

Five star service

pairing: su-bong/thanos/player 230 x reader, fluff

summary: rollerblader!user heads to a nearby skate park to unwind, only to collide with skateboarder!Su-bong, a reckless skateboarder from your calculus class.

tw/cw: minor injuries, mild language, loser thanos, no squid games au, happens before thanos becomes thanos!!

author's note: i've had this idea in my head for a while but i've never really had the time. Also, this is my first ever fic and my first time posting smth on tumblr, so don't expect it to be the best</3

You hadn’t touched your rollerblades since the start of the fall semester. All those plans of skating to class every day? Dead on arrival the moment you discovered the university’s ridiculous no-skateboarding-or-rollerblading policy on campus pathways. Since then, you’d developed a special kind of hatred for the cyclists cruising by with smug ease.

Now, crouched under your dorm bunk, you unearthed your old pair of blades—the same ones you’d had since junior high. They were dusty, sure, but still functional and that was all you needed. Skating had always been your escape, the one thing you could rely on when everything else felt overwhelming. The wind rushing past, the steady rhythm of wheels against pavement—it was freedom in motion, and no other feeling came close.

With no classes for the day, you finally had a chance to check out the skate park near campus. Your friends had mentioned it, but until now, you hadn’t had the time nor the energy. This felt like a well-earned reward for surviving the semester so far.

At a nearby bench, you kicked off your shoes and slid your feet into your rollerblades, snapping the buckles closed with practiced ease. Standing up, balance returning like second nature, you headed toward one of the ramps.

Or, well, you tried to.

“Move!”

The pavement came up fast and hard. Your hands burned from the impact, and your knees felt like they’d been grated raw.

Someone else hit the ground ahead of you with a heavier thud—his skateboard flying off like it had somewhere better to be. A few people nearby laughed under their breath, offering zero help and even less concern.

“Ah... fuck.” The guy groaned, sitting up slowly as he inspected the tear in his oversized jeans. He stood, brushing off dirt, but avoided your gaze, scratching the back of his head with a sheepish expression. “Sorry, dude,” he muttered, more apologetic about his own clumsiness than about sending you sprawling.

You recognized him—Su-bong. The guy who spent calculus class beatboxing under his breath and pretending to DJ on an imaginary turntable. You’d barely exchanged more than a nod with him before, but you knew the rumors. He skipped most of his classes, somehow scraped by on exams, and had yet to be expelled—something about his father being part of the school board or whatever. You never cared enough to eavesdrop on stuff about him.

In his free time—which was basically all the time—Su-bong could be found rapping in alleyway battles or losing himself in the skate park, chasing the same thrill you craved, perfecting tricks like it was the only thing that mattered.

And now, he’d managed to ruin the one rare moment you had to yourself.

Still, you couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, remembering the way he’d face-planted into the pavement right after you.

Su-bong hadn’t looked at you once since standing up. Instead, he turned and jogged after his runaway skateboard.

You stood up again and sat back down on the bench before examining your winds. “Shit..” You mumbled under your breath, hissing in pain. 

The scrape on your knee was stinging but you focused on the scrapes on your hands. You whispered some insults towards Su-bong as you got a piece of tissue from your bag and wiped your hand. You sat there for a while, thinking about how you’d walk back to your dorm without being in excruciating pain but your thoughts were interrupted by someone shouting.

“Hey!” You turned your head to the voice and saw Su-bong running towards you, “Shit, sorry.” He apologized, out of breath. “I got a first aid kit from the pharmacy nearby.” He sat down beside you, clearly unsure of how close was too close before pulling out some gauze. “Do you have scissors?” You shook your head and he looked back then ripped the gauze at an appropriate length but when he was about to wrap it around your hand, you pulled away. 

“You’re meant to clean, disinfect, and then wrap the gauze.” You corrected, unconsciously leaning closer to him. He slowly looked up at her as his ears grew red. “R-right. Sorry. I’ve never done this before.” He blushed slightly before fumbling with the first aid kit and getting the things needed. “This is going to sting a bit, okay?” He warns once he pulls out the small alcohol spray.

You winced as the alcohol hit your skin. “Shit—that stings.” Su-bong flinched along with you, like he felt it too. “Sorry, sorry! I swear I’m not trying to torture you.” You shot him a look. “Are you sure? You seem suspiciously good at this.” He let out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, well, maybe I’m secretly a villain who ambushes people at skate parks just to… aggressively provide first aid.”

“Oh yeah? What’s your villain name? The Bandage Bandit?” you teased, biting back a smirk. He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Please, don’t give me a lame name. At least let me be something cool, like… Doctor Disaster.” You raised an eyebrow. “Doctor Disaster? That sounds like someone who’d forget to clean a wound before wrapping it.” He made a mock-wounded noise. “Hey! Low blow.” “Fitting,” You said, nodding at your stinging hands.

Su-bong chuckled quietly as he wiped the area with more care this time, his touch lighter. “Alright, alright, lesson learned. I’ll take ‘Bandage Bandit’ over ‘Doctor Disaster’ if it gets me forgiveness.”

You pretended to think about it. “Hmm. Maybe. Depends on how well you handle the knee next.”

He immediately perked up, determined but still flushed. “Oh, you’re challenging me now? Okay. Just so you know, I’m about to give top-tier knee care. Like, you’ll be recommending me to all your friends.” You grinned. “Can’t wait to leave a five-star review.” 

Su-bong knelt in front of you, reaching for the alcohol spray again. “Okay, ready for round two?” You eyed him warily. “Depends—are you going to Doctor Disaster this one too?” He gave you a lopsided grin, a little breathless. “Nope. This time, you’re getting premium Bandage Bandit service.”

You laughed, but as he leaned closer to reach your knee, you suddenly became very aware of how close he actually was. His hair fell slightly into his eyes, and you noticed the faint dusting of freckles on his nose—things you wouldn’t have noticed from across a classroom or skate park.

He focused on your knee, completely oblivious to the shift in the air. “Okay, this’ll sting a little,” he said softly, like he was trying not to spook you.

When the alcohol hit your skin, you sucked in a breath through your teeth, and his hand instinctively landed on your shin to steady you. The touch was light, but it sent a surprising jolt through you both. His eyes flicked up, meeting yours, and for a second, neither of you spoke.

“Uh—” he cleared his throat, pulling his hand back like your skin had burned him. “Sorry! I just didn’t want you to, like… kick me in the face or something.” You smirked, trying to shake off the heat rising to your cheeks. “Wow, that’s how low you think of me?” He laughed, clearly flustered but trying to keep it cool as he returned to patching you up. “I didn’t say that! Don’t put words in my mouth.” This time, when his fingers grazed your leg to secure the gauze, you both noticed—but neither of you moved away.

“So,” he said after a beat, voice quieter now, “still sticking with that five-star review?” You leaned back on your elbows, teasing, “Hmm. I might have to bump you up to four and a half stars.” He gasped, hand dramatically to his chest. “Four and a half? Harsh. What’d I do?” You grinned. “Docking points for almost breaking my hands earlier.” “Fair.” He shook his head, chuckling as he tied off the bandage. “I’ll earn that half-star back somehow.”

The silence that followed afterwards was no longer awkward and felt different. His hands lingered for a second longer than they should’ve on your knee, and when he finally sat back on his heels, his gaze flickered to your face, as if noticing something new.

He was taken out of the trance he was in by a loud “Oh! I know!” He focused and tilted his head “What?” He asks as he starts putting the things they had used back in the first aid kit. “You can carry my stuff back to my dorm and help me get there.” You smile proudly.

Su-bong blinked, then let out a soft, incredulous laugh. “Wow. Extortion. Classic villain behavior.”

You grinned wider. “I learned from the best,” He stood up, brushing off his jeans, then offered you his hand. “Alright, deal. But only because you’re injured. And because I’m feeling generous today.”

You took his hand, feeling the calluses on his palm as he helped you up. For a second, you swayed, the soreness in your knee making you wince, and instinctively, his other hand settled on your waist to steady you. The two of you froze—again—both painfully aware of how close you’d gotten. “…You good?” he asked, voice suddenly softer, almost nervous. 

You nodded, though your heart felt like it had decided to skate a half-pipe inside your chest. “Yeah. Just… don’t let go.”

His lips twitched into a lopsided smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The words hung between you like static in the air, unspoken but heavy. Then, clearing his throat, he quickly stepped back, rubbing the back of his neck as if trying to shake off the tension.

“Okay, so—uh—your dorm?” he asked, voice cracking slightly. You bit back a laugh, enjoying his awkwardness a little too much. “Yeah. It’s not far. You can be my personal porter.” He mock-bowed. “Su-Bong at your service.”

As you handed him your backpack, your fingers brushed, and you swore you felt that jolt again. Maybe it was adrenaline. Maybe it was the pain meds kicking in. Or maybe it was just Su-bong being… well, unexpectedly kind of cute.

literally tho i’m having such an annoying writers block 😭 but i’m working on right where you left me part three anyway ;)

ugh i wish writing was so much easier *SIGH*

can we get some like 'junho is the type of husband' pls??? ❤️❤️❤️ doesnt have to be full story just fluff!! 🙏

Jun-ho is the type ...husband!edition 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

Jun-ho is the type...husband!edition

Pairing: husband!Jun-ho x wife!fem!reader Warnings: F L U F F

Jun-ho is the type to wake up five minutes before you and get caught between wanting to snuggle you and kiss your forehead silly, but would absolutely never wish to disturb you. He will then fall back asleep with his body ever-so-slightly touching yours for reassurance...then sleep through three alarm clocks.

Jun-ho is the type to offer you all the blankets before you go to sleep, covering you in them, wrapping you up and squishing you through the fabric to relish your softness and delighted purrs at being so snug – and he gets to cuddle you harder without worry of hurting you with his fervour. In the middle of the night, however, all the blankets are oddly confiscated to his side of the bed, leading you to sleepy tug-o-wars. He’s very apologetic if he wakes and realises the situation.

Jun-ho is the type to warm you up and cover you being the big spoon, he loves feeling protective and close to you. When his chest is against your back, he knows you feel his heart and feels very connected to you. His hand always finds the top of your head and does little twirls in your hair as he humms in his sleep.

Jun-ho is the type to have all his clothes neatly folded by the bed, always wears a towel around his body after a shower, much as he loves and cherishes you, he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable and always acts as if it’s your first time meeting him.

Jun-ho is the type to be driven by intense adoration and affection rather than blind lust. You could put on the most racy, revealing, sensual negligée – and he will be very flattered and bashful, cheeks red and hand over eyes – but he will jump at you without warning if you’re comfortable in one of his shirts, humming to yourself and looking peaceful.

Jun-ho is the type to watch you do things, half out of protectiveness, half out of genuine curiosity. You always wonder how he manages to sneak up on you with his frame, but often you turn around to see him, smiling that wide smile to himself, as you do the most mundane tasks. Your confused “What?” is met with a little head shake and another smile.

Jun-ho is the type to get warm off your happiness – little gestures and little notes spring up around the house for you to discover, only for the little yelp of surprise or faux sigh you breathe his name in give him a small rush that makes him want to scoop you up and snuggle nose-to-nose.

Jun-ho is the type to wish to look after you, even if he knows you’re fully capable and wouldn’t ask him to. If you’re not feeling well, you get three hot water bottles and a bath drawn. And don’t even think of walking to it, he never misses an opportunity to carry you in his arms.

Jun-ho is the type to remember that one specific food, drink, item that you mention off-handily and suddenly, you discover cookbooks folded on the page of your favourite dessert and your coffee tasting more of the spice you like so much. He will never admit to it, though.

Jun-ho is the type to relish both foreplay and aftercare, with emphasis on both. He sees foreplay as the whole day he has free with you, from visiting a beautiful place with playful banter, hidden touches here and there, and lots and lots of PDA. You never knew feeding birds and sharing earphones could lead to such intimacy, but here you are.

Jun-ho is the type who loves dad jokes. Enough said.

Jun-ho is the type to be very protective of you, without bordering on uncomfortable. If you’re around people, you know his hand is very lightly hovering around the small of your back. If you’re walking together, it’s arm in arm. If you’re waiting for him, he always waits first to be aware of each aspect of his surroundings.

Jun-ho is the type to want to hold you tight, so tight he feels your bodies as one being – but is also worried he’ll hurt you, so he often walks up to you from behind and wordlessly lays his arms around your waist, holding your stomach, and gently swaying with you. The motion he feels adds intimacy and closeness.

Jun-ho is the type to remember all your anniversaries, but prefers to start celebrating them a day before their actual date, so you know he knows.

Just seen the new beta squad x amp trailer 😈😈

I'm so excited bro I already have fic ideas for it

I've been waiting for that trailer ever since they announced they were in Atlanta Georgia

I've only seen like 2 seconds of agent but he looks so 😍

Just strong enough to love you

Ahn Su-ho x fem!reader

..................................................................................

The sky held that pale hue, somewhere between grey and blue, as if the sun hesitated to show itself that morning. A fine drizzle fell on the glistening sidewalks of Seoul, caressing passersby with a damp, almost soft breath. In this blurred light, two figures struggled at the end of an alley. Nothing new in this neighborhood. Another score settled, more high schoolers with more rage than future. And yet...

Y/N's camera captured everything.

She wasn't there for them. She was filming another shot, an urban life scene for an experimental montage. Y/N loved the textures of the city, the way sounds and movements overlapped like a chaotic symphony. But her lens had slipped for a moment. Just a moment. And in that fleeting instant, she had captured them: two boys. One frail, intelligent, calm like an inner storm. The other, a living fire, sure, quick, powerful blows. And that look...

Ahn Su-ho.

She hadn't deleted the video. Not because she was looking for trouble. She simply found the scene beautiful. An almost choreographed, rhythmic brutality, and above all, that silent tension between the two boys. A kind of raw loyalty. She had posted a short excerpt, blurring the faces. The video had gone viral. She didn't really understand why.

Two days later, he was there. In front of her high school. The rain was now just a memory. Su-ho, dressed in his slightly crumpled uniform, had his hands in his pockets, his gaze furious, his cheeks flushed from the cold or annoyance. She recognized him immediately.

"Is that you?" he asked. "Were you the one who filmed?"

His voice was deep, slightly hoarse. Not threatening. But there was a tension in his shoulders, as if he was holding himself back from exploding. Y/N, calm, looked at him for a long moment before answering.

"It's blurry. You can't see anyone clearly."

He sighed, ran a hand through his hair.

"That's not the problem. If someone recognizes Si-eun, he could get into trouble. And so could I. Delete it."

She shook her head.

"It's a work of art. I don't delete my works."

He stared at her, incredulous. His face tightened with annoyance.

"Seriously? You want to be an artist? This puts us in danger."

"I blurred the faces."

"You think that's enough?"

She shrugged. She wasn't provoking him. She was simply... sincere. Y/N never smiled without a reason. That day, she didn't smile. But she didn't lower her eyes either. And Su-ho noticed that.

It was Si-eun who solved the problem. As always. A week later, Su-ho told him about the scene.

"She won't delete it. That girl is stubborn."

Si-eun gave him a slow look, like an exasperated teacher.

"I'll ask her. I'm sure she'll say yes."

"And why would she say yes to you?"

"Because I didn't try to scare her."

Si-eun was right. Two days later, the video was offline. And Su-ho had no more excuses to think about her.

But he thought about her anyway.

He found her annoying. Absolutely frustrating. And, in a way, fascinating. She wasn't like the others. Not because she was mysterious or silent, but because she seemed to have an unwavering inner compass. She knew what she wanted. What she didn't want. And she wasn't going to bend to his demands, even though he could take down five guys without batting an eyelid.

It wasn't until Si-eun asked her, in a calm but firm tone, that she finally deleted the video. Without complaint. Without justification. Just a nod, and the clip disappeared from her phone as if it had never existed.

Su-ho should have moved on.

But he didn't.

He started to notice her. To watch for her passing. Sometimes, he lingered for no reason near her high school. Just... in case. And sometimes, he would run into her, and she would give him a neutral, almost bored look, but he felt his heart leap as if he had just run a marathon.

He didn't know what it was, that warmth in his chest, that need to see her, even for a second. He didn't understand why he smiled like an idiot when he thought about her calm demeanor, her composed voice. Y/N soothed him as much as she annoyed him.

A ball of energy, Su-ho. Always ready to fight to defend, to protect. But in front of her, he became clumsy. He would flirt sometimes, to mask what he didn't yet understand. And she... she didn't laugh at his jokes. But she listened to him. And that was worse. It touched him more than any forced laughter.

Then there was that night at the restaurant. He worked sometimes after school. He loved that little job. Serving, joking with customers, feeling the warmth of the kitchen, hearing the clatter of dishes and conversations. It was alive. Like him.

And she was there.

Sitting alone, a notebook in front of her. She was drawing, or taking notes, he didn't know. He approached, his heart beating faster than usual.

"Are you lost? Or did you come to see the most handsome waiter in Seoul?"

She looked up. Her calm gaze pierced him like a blade.

"I came to eat."

He laughed. Really laughed. This girl had a knack for breaking his opening lines.

"In that case, you're in luck. My service is exceptional."

"I'll judge for myself."

She still wasn't smiling. But there was a spark in the depths of her eyes. As if she was slowly letting herself be contaminated by his light.

And that night, he knew. He knew. He was screwed.

In love.

Not with an idea. Not with a fantasy. With her. With her silences. With her rigor. With her way of being upright in a crooked world. He loved her like one loves a rare light. A star fallen in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and yet so bright that one cannot help but reach out.

He talked to Si-eun about it one night as they walked in silence after a tense confrontation.

"I think I'm in love," he said simply.

Si-eun raised an eyebrow.

"Y/N?"

Su-ho stared at him, mouth slightly open.

"You knew?"

"You shine when you talk about her."

Su-ho smiled faintly.

"She's... different."

"Stop. You already said that."

"Damn it. Okay... Do you think it's possible? To love someone like that? For no reason? Just because when I think about her, I feel like everything else gets lighter?"

Si-eun, who wasn't one for giving advice, replied in a calm tone:

"I think that's the best reason."

And Su-ho began to dream. Not of fairy tales. Just of simple moments. Of sharing. Of seeing her smile. A real smile. He didn't care if he was "good enough" for her. Those kinds of thoughts sometimes gnawed at him, especially when he saw himself as a fighting, impulsive, rough boy. But there was an immense tenderness within him. A capacity to love without measure. And that tenderness, Y/N deserved it.

He didn't want to save her. She didn't need saving.

He just wanted to... walk beside her.

And he hoped, more than anything, that one day she would let him.

---

The next day, it rained again. Not the same soft drizzle as at the beginning of their story, no. This time, it was a more distinct rain, almost vibrant, as if the sky shared a certain nervousness.

Y/N had stopped under the high school awning, nervously rummaging through her bag. She knew it. Her notebook wasn't there anymore. And she wasn't stupid—she knew exactly where she had forgotten it. On that small restaurant table, half-hidden under her coat.

And above all, she knew who had found it.

When Su-ho arrived, soaked despite his hood, he spotted her right away. He had that look, a little playful, a little too bright. He approached silently, slipped his hand into his backpack, and pulled out the black notebook, one corner slightly dog-eared.

"I believe you left something," he said, his voice calm but his gaze filled with a mocking gleam.

She snatched the notebook, a little too quickly, as if she wanted to shield it from his eyes. But it was too late. He had seen it. And not just seen it. He had read it.

"Page 17," he murmured, feigning distraction. "Nice drawing. I'm even more handsome in a drawing than in real life, don't you think?"

She froze, her fingers clenched on the cover. She looked up at him. That look. Always the same. Calm. Cold, for some. But Su-ho knew. She was boiling inside.

"You read it," she said simply. It wasn't a question.

He shrugged, looking a little guilty but mostly, sincerely moved.

"Just a little. By accident. Well... page 17, then 18... 19... I got a little carried away."

A silence. Then he continued, taking a folded piece of paper from the notebook's cover.

"I added something. I hope you don't mind. It's at the end."

She opened it. Slowly. And there, on the last page, was a drawing of her. Clumsy, clearly not done by a hand used to art. But touching. There she was, head down, focused, with that little crease between her eyebrows she made when she was thinking.

And below it, he had written, in slightly shaky handwriting:

"I think I like her too... maybe even a little too much. And given the masterpiece she made of me, I think we're meant to be a team."

She closed the notebook. Slowly. Her heart was beating too fast. He saw it, she knew it. He read her. And strangely, she didn't want to run away this time.

"A team, huh?" she said finally, without any apparent emotion.

"A dream team," he replied with a wink. "You film, I punch. You draw, I model. You create silences, I fill them with nonsense."

And for the first time since he had known her, she smiled. Not a half-smile. A real one. Slight. Shy. But there.

Su-ho looked surprised. Then, slowly, he smiled too. Not his usual superficial smile. Not his smile to deflect. A real one.

"You see, you're even more beautiful when you smile," he whispered.

She rolled her eyes, feigning exasperation.

"And you're even more unbearable when you start."

He laughed. Then, gently, he held out his hand.

"Walk together? Just for a bit?"

She hesitated. Just for a second.

And then, she slipped her fingers into his.

"A bit, then."

..................................................................................

Sickeningly in love literally.

Pairings: Go Hyuntak x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're sick and Gotak's here to take care of you.

Genre: Lovers, tooth aching fluff (yes) , language, and reader being sick.

W/C: 1,159

Photos used are from pinterest! Ugh, ain't he a cutie patootie?

═══════════════════════════════════════════

You grew up next door in Singil-dong, and were practically raised in each other's homes, always being each other's playdate. Ever since the two of you decided to become "married" in the playground, you've always been together.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

Go hyuntak and his friends planned to hang out after school at Baku's dad's chicken resto. Him and his friends are already fighting over who get's the first drumstick, his phone pressed to his ear, talking to you, his girlfriend.

"You out of school yet?" He asked, smiling faintly. Talking to you always made his day. Then your voice—quiet, strained. "Didn't go." Gotak blinked, his smile faltered. "What, why?" His words came out slow. The group had gotten quiet as they listened in, Baku leaned against the table, one arm propped casually as he watched Gotak, Jun-tae pausing mid-bite out of his chicken, and Sieun now leaned back in the booth seat, eyes flicking between the group.

"Jus' didn't feel like it," you say, a faint rasp in your voice. Then came the cough. Raspy. Rough. Gotak straightened up, his face frowning. "You're sick."

"I'm not—"

"You are."

"No, i'm—"

"I'm on my way." He cuts in again, standing up. And he'd already hung up before you could protest. Baku furrowed his brows, his arm still leaning lazily on the table. "Yo, what do you mean? You're leaving?" Gotak glances at Baku with a half-apologetic smile. "It's Y/N, she's sick." Baku only went 'ahh' then nodded. "Who?" Sieun asked, glancing between them, confused. Baku grins, patting Sieun's back. "His girlfriend, bro." He says, 'bro' in english. "Enjoy without me." Gotak muttered, grabbing his bag.

Before Gotak could leave, Baku called out, "Stay safe!" Gotak just lifted a hand in response, already halfway out. Jun tae blinked after him, then turned to Baku. "Wait—he has a girlfriend?" Baku let's out a short laugh and shook his head. "Man's whipped."

═══════════════════════════════════════════

You often found yourself alone, thanks to your parents' demanding jobs. Your bedroom is a mess—trash tossed everywhere, books you were supposed to study—left open and forgetten and discarded tissues from your constant sneezing. You could barely move without wincing as your joints would pop painfully.

You try to ignore the sharp pain in your throat, but it made even breathing a struggle. Lying down could only offer little relief. Your phone then buzzed beside you, and you could barely lift it. Eyes heavy, you blinked a few times and squinted at the screen.

귀염둥이 (cutie)

(Gotak): Baby, open the door. I'm outside.

Then a second message followed,

(Gotak): [kiss emoji]

With a groan, you pushed yourself off the bed, limbs trembling. You then wrapped your arms around yourself as you make your way to the front door. "Babe, baby, babe." He calls out, knocking lightly. "Wait up, Gogo." You croaked, his nickname falling past your lips. "I swear, if you don't open the door in five seconds—" the door creaks open, and Gotak's eyes land on you. "Just kidding." He continued.

.

..

"Holy shit, Y/N."

Your face looked drained of color, clammy and pale—your eyes puffy and tinged red. Dark circles had bloomed under your eyes, and your knees looked ready to buckle.

You leaned against the doorframe, your whole body drooped like it wanted to fold into the floor. "You look like you haven't slept in days." Before you could respond, his hand found your waist as he nudged you aside to step in. "Still pretty though," he muttered, almost to himself. "It's kind of unfair." Holding you for a lil while, he quickly took the stuff he bought for you in, kicking the door shut behind him.

His arm stayed around you, eyes scanning your face again. "Okay, okay—Couch. Now." His hand shifted to your back, firm and warm as he guides you towards the couch. You leaned into him instinctively, your steps dragging. He eased you down onto the couch gently, crouching in front of you. "So, i got you noodles," he said, trying to sound casual. "And. . . Medicine. Sooo stay there, and don't move much. Doctor Gotak's got you."

Go hyuntak made sure that you were cozy on the couch before heading to the kitchen, placing the plastic bags on the counter with a sigh. He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing around the place. He figured he'd check on your room, just a peek. He then walked over and nudged your bedroom door open, "Woah," he clutched his chest dramatically. "This looks like biohazard-level, babe."

He lingered on the doorway, one hand gripping the frame, the other resting on his hip.

"This is tragic."

With a sigh, he crouched to pick up your trash, the scattered tissues, half-finished notes, and books. "You really tried to study through this, huh." He whispered. "This is so unsanitary—" he paused as he picked up a framed photo on your desk—one of the two of you at some arcade. Gotak jerked his head with a quiet snort. "Stubborn girl," he says softly, almost fondly. "You should've told me."

.

..

The scent of boiling noodles filled the air, steam curling lazily from the pot. Gotak, his hoodie's sleeve rolled up, stood at the stove, stirring the noodles with a concentration that seemed ridiculous for something so little. It must be perfect. He thinks to himself.

He kept glancing back at the couch where you lay bundled up in your blanket like a sad little burrito, the damp towel he'd placed earlier having slipped slightly off your forehead. "Aishh." He left the ladle propped on the side and padded over, sitting beside you with a soft sigh. Gently, he brushed the towel back into place and adjusted your blanket higher like you were some fragile thing.

"You feeling any better?" He asked, his finger brushing your cheek. "i can barely breath," you joked, the corners of your lips twitching upward. "Not funny."

.

..

Gotak returned to you, balancing a steaming bowl of noodles in one hand and a lukewarm glass of water in the other. You slowly pushed yourself up, one shaky hand gripping the cushion. He immediately sets the bowl on the coffee table and helped you sit properly, settling in beside you. "Slow, baby. Sit slow," he muttered.

Then, he gently nudged your head with his knuckle. "You're such a pain," his tone dropped a bit. "I'm seriously pissed, you know," he says, voice low and annoyed. "Mm—ow," you winced, softly, the sound barely leaving your lips.

He immediately froze. "Shit. Baby. I'm sorry—i'm sorry, i didn't mean to. Fuck. Sorry, babe. Sorry, sorry." His voice cracked with guilt, his hands hovering near your face, unsure if he should hold you or not. You gave a weak laugh. "Eat first, okay? Drink your meds after, then you can go to sleep. I'll stay." You nodded faintly, then smiled.

"Thank you....i love you."

"I love you too," he whispered, leaning in to press a kiss against the side of your head. "Don't scare me like this again."

═══════════════════════════════════════════

the great war

“my hand was the one you reached for, all throughout the great war.”

pairing: peeta mellark x reader

summary: in which you are hijacked by the capitol and peeta will do anything in his power to get you back

requested !

warnings/contains: hijacking, chocking, angst?? lmk if i should add more

a/n: i had this idea for a very very long time and this request convinced me to finish it!!! i’m so sorry this sucks and there will definitely be a part two 😝

The giggles leaving your lips as Peeta follows you were like music to his ears. With his hand in yours he wished he could capture this moment and remember it forever. He loved everything about you, every single part of you. But what he loved the most was your smile.

Your smile reminded him of the sunset, something he could stare at for hours and never get bored of. You quickened your pace, your laughter never dying down. Peeta chuckled, and quickly followed after you, not wanting to lose his grip on your hand.

But as you kept moving faster and faster, his hand came closer to slipping from yours. Your laughter died down and your surroundings started to change. Slowly, but surely, Peeta was back in the arena. The arena he knew all too well. You threw your head over your shoulder in fear, yelling at Peeta to run faster. Peeta’s mind was completely clouded, he had no clue about what was going on. But his feet carried him anyway, as if they had a mind of their own.

Peeta tried to reach out for your hand, wanting some comfort during these events. But just when your fingertips touched his, an arrow flew towards the sky, hitting the dome right when the lighting was about to strike. Peeta watched as you were blown away from him and screamed your name.

He woke up screaming, sweat beads dripping from his face. “It’s okay, Peeta. You had that one bad dream again.” Haymitch muttered. He was seated on a chair beside Peeta’s bed, his gaze fixated on his hands.

Peeta turned his head to look at him, his breaths heavy as he tried to process the nightmare he has had for the millionth time this week. Haymitch shook his head, knowing who Peeta was searching for as he scanned the room, “The capitol has her, remember?”

Peeta let that sink in like he did every single time he had woken up the past week.

Haymitch got up from his seat, walking towards the exit of the room, “You should get dressed, kid, lunch is in five.” He threw a sympathetic look Peeta’s way, because he too was upset that the capitol had taken you. Haymitch opened his mouth to tell Peeta something, but left the room, leaving Peeta in misery at the thought of you.

The moment he lost you haunted him day and night. He remembered when he had woken up in a plane, right after the dome had blown up. Peeta remembered hearing voices, talking about how they couldn’t find you when they saved everyone. He fell back to sleep right at that moment, and dreamed of you until he woke up the day after. Peeta could remember how furious he had gotten when he had heard about how they had forgotten you. Everyone tried to calm him down and eventually, after a very long time, he did. But that didn’t mean he was just okay with it.

Quite the opposite actually.

Peeta got up from his bed, not a single bone in him wanting to continue this any longer. But he had to. He hadn’t seen or heard from you in a week and he had to admit, even a minute without you was like his world wasn’t real. While changing his clothes, he wished, just like everyday, that he was the one who was taken by the capitol, not you. You were supposed to be the one being saved. Not him.

Haymitch had promised him.

His train of thoughts continued as he made his way down the stairs. They continued as he walked into the dining hall, his stare on the ground. Peeta got in line for the food, absentmindedly grabbing something to eat. He despised himself for not knowing where you were. It was eating him alive, and he wanted nothing more than to be with you right now. Suddenly, the screens in the cafetaria turned on, catching every single person’s attention. Including Peeta’s. He walked towards the table Katniss was sitting at, while his eyes were fixated on the screens.

The chatter died down when a message started to play on the screens. “Everyone’s wondering; what happened during the third quarter quell?” Flickerman’s voice made everyone, who wasn’t already looking, look up.

“And whatever it is you’re doing right now, stop doing it….” Peeta’s eyebrows screwed together, confusion hitting him. He locked gazes with Katniss, and he noticed that she was just as confused as he was. Flickerman spoke up once again, “Because you’re gonna want to witness this.”

“To help us answer the question I had stated earlier - a question all of us have been asking ourselves and others - please, welcome-“

The moment you appeared on screen, Peeta’s heart dropped. He sat in a state of absolute shock, however, when he had finally processed that it was in fact you, he got up to walk over. He mumbled your name and if his heart wasn’t already aching for you, it definitely was now. You looked different, almost fragile as you looked at Flickerman. “So, talk us through what happened that night. The night everyone has been talking about non-stop.”

You blinked rapidly, trying your best not to look at the camera and to come up with an answer Snow will be pleased with. “Being in the games, well, it costs a lot. It costs lives. And what happened that night was something that… cost a lot more.”

Peeta didn’t listen from there on, his main focus being on how you looked and acted. He knew that wasn’t the real you, everything you said, the way you said it. It wasn’t you. It was a programmed, entirely different you.

You discussed with Flickerman, standing up for both Peeta and Katniss, since he had something to say about them. When the discussion ended, your turned your head towards the camera, saying what the woman told you to earlier, word for word.

“All of this violence, all of this killing. Why do we do this?” Peeta was so fixated on you, that he didn’t even notice the effect your words had on the people in the cafetaria. You continued, “Killing. Killing’s not the answer and never will be. Everyone should lay down their weapons immediately.”

After Flickerman asked you a final question, to which you answered to with a plead, the screens turned off. The entire room started shouting nonsense, but all Peeta could think about was that you were alive. He had to get you out of there before they would do worse things to you.

From that day on, Peeta and the others stuck in district thirteen did everything in the power to get you back. And every single week there was an interview of you and Flickerman on the screens. The only sign you were still alive. And in every following interview the life in you seemed to lessen.

It took a long while of prepping and practicing, but finally, Peeta was going to have you back. It was a difficult plan to execute and they weren’t even sure it would work, but Peeta held the hope. And thanks to Katniss and Finnick, he wasn’t alone in this.

Thankfully, the plan worked and Peeta couldn’t have been more happier than he was in that moment. He counted the seconds until you were in his arms again.

He was in his room when Haymitch came to bring him the good news that you were back. Peeta couldn’t contain his excitement and he jumped up to follow Haymitch to you.

When he entered the room you were in, Peeta’s heart stopped beating. He was met with your back as the people around you were investigating you and your heartbeat. He whispered your name, almost terrified this wasn’t real.

You lifted your head the sound of your name, the voice making you fill with rage. When you turned your head to look at him, Peeta couldn’t bear to see the sight before him. You looked completely beaten up and vulnerable.

The look on your face as you looked on him went past him while he observed you. He couldn’t believe his eyes, at last you were here with him. Away from the people who had hurt you whole he wasn’t with you.

You let out a yell of rage before jumping straight at him, everything Snow had told you about Peeta ringing in your thoughts.

Peeta couldn’t form a single coherent thought as your hands were wrapped around his neck, choking him mercilessly. You pushed away everyone in the way as they ran at you, your only mission to kill the man laying beneath you.

But before Peeta’s eyes closed in defeat, someone hit your head with a chair.

You fell on top of Peeta, who had been knocked out by the lack of air.

DOES ANYONE ON THIS APP WRITE FOR HWANG JUN HO AND ALSO TAKE REQUESTS CUS BOY I WANNA READ FICS ABOUT HIM . Sorry for yelling.

***OR please tag me in pre existing Jun Ho fics. I am desperate for anything

so pretty

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

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