triciawritesstuff

[triciawritesstuff]

Just watched i saw the devil, and I fear it is overrated. Like why were the rape scenes so long? You could tell a man directed this shit I'm sorry. lbh's character literally hardly helped at all and put so many other women in danger just for his game? It was bizarre to me. Misogynistic af, why is no one talking about this.

[triciawritesstuff]

Guys, low-key i wanna write some stuff for Lucas Sinclair. I rewatched season 4 and I'm excited for season 5!! Caleb Mclaughlin is my man.

[triciawritesstuff]

[triciawritesstuff]

hii I just read ur lukas fic called “Remember That” and i looked at the request, specifically the second request(the one circled in red) and omg I LOVE that idea.

like imagine being so down bad for someone that you learn a whole new language for them!!!

anywayss, maybe also add lukas teasing reader in lithuanian? loll

have a good day :)

‘asking for science’ (req)

lukas x fem reader

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶ ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶ ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶ ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶ ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶

“okay, this one’s easy,” you muttered, pacing back and forth in lukas’s living room like you were prepping for a spelling bee.

lukas watched from the couch, legs stretched out, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands like he was completely innocent and not waiting for your next verbal disaster.

“tu esi labai graži.”

you beamed. “nailed it. i know that one. it means you’re very pretty.”

lukas blinked, then raised an eyebrow. “that’s the feminine version.”

you froze. “wait what?”

“yeah,” he said, trying very badly not to smile. “you just told me I’m very pretty.”

you stared. “…but you are.”

he grinned. “aw. thank you.”

“no. shut up.”

“you think i’m pretty,” he said, voice all sing-song and smug now. “should i flutter my lashes?”

you stared at him, deadpan. “i’m gonna throw your stupid beautiful face out the window.”

he huffed a little laugh and said something in lithuanian too fast for you to catch.

“what did you just say?” you narrowed your eyes.

“don’t worry about it,” he mumbled, smiling into his hoodie.

you paused. “was that an insult?”

he didn’t answer.

you stared at him. “i know that silence, asshole.”

he finally cracked, biting back a grin. “okay. i said you’re hopeless but… cute.”

you blinked slowly. “wait did you just actually call me cute in your difficult sexy language?”

he cleared his throat and reached for the remote. “anyway.”

“no no no, rewind that scene,” you said, pointing at him. “you don’t get to say that and then pretend it didn’t happen.”

he glanced sideways at you. “you are cute. even if you sound like a malfunctioning tourist.”

your mouth dropped open. “rude.”

“truth.”

you threw a pillow at him. he caught it.

“whatever,” you muttered, opening your notebook. “i’m not giving up.”

lukas tilted his head. “you’re really learning all this for me?”

you didn’t look up. “no.”

he raised an eyebrow.

“…yes.”

lukas smiled to himself, hiding it in the soft sound of the TV.

‘‘so what’s the lithuanian word for kiss me,” you said casually, flipping a page.

lukas blinked.

“asking for science,” you added.

he cleared his throat and looked down at his tea.

“pabučiuok mane,” he said quietly.

you paused. “good to know.”

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶ ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶ ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶ ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶ ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶

a/n: thank you for enjoying the stories !!! your requests and support really means a lot <3 keep sending them my way if you have any ideas or scenarios you want to read ⭐️

[triciawritesstuff]

got any jokubas (katarsis) x reader crumbs for me??

or if a prompt is needed maaybbee like they both come home after having rough days and just like cuddle together ??

you dont have to if you dont want to

(btw i really like your writing style!!)

Settle in With Me.

Jokubas x reader

Wordcount: 0.8k

Warnings: none :) Reverse comfort! NOT BETA READ

A/n: The people have asked for crumbs, and so i shall deliver!! Here is a silly and soft Jokubas fic! It definitely could be better but I hope you all like it regardless.

You awake with a bleary hum, feeling like you’ve awoken under a sheet of jelly; mouth dry, eyes slightly crusted and feeling scratchy and work trousers ridden up to the knees. A sign of a good, well-deserved nap after an awful, hair-ripping day. Your hands go to rub your eyes as you attempt to blink away the sleep. The sun still peeks through the blinds but only barely as the rose and peach tones seep into the inky blue of the sky. 

With a sleepy huff, you turn on your phone to check the time. 19:32. A grunt leaves your lips as you set your head back onto the decorative pillow, willing yourself to get up despite being so comfortable, even in whatever position you have contorted yourself into while sleeping. 

Just as you settle in your position again unwillingly, or whatever you tell yourself to prevent you from moving from your warm spot, the door opens and clicks shut harsher than usual. In the doorway untying his shoes stands the huffy figure of your favourite drummer (totally not biased), Jokubas. 

“Babe?” You call out, your face still shoved half into the pillow.

He silently walks over and pulls you up briefly before lying down with you, bringing your head to his chest. He’s quiet. Your boyfriend, the token yapper of his group and between you two, is quiet. Eerily quiet.

“Bad day, hun?” You now mumble into his chest, cosying up to him, just what you needed after the day you had. 

“Mhm…. You too?” He mumbles back, arms snaking around you, effectively trapping you in place.

You only nod, looking up at him. He looks tired, meeting your eyes with an unreadable expression. You can see the slight frown tugging at his lips. The ones that you want to kiss silly til both of your feelings and social batteries are fixed and refilled. 

“Have you eaten?” He asks, knowing you too well. He already knows that you must have slept through any potential hunger you would have felt if you weren’t in a sulk-induced slumber on the sofa

You don’t answer, quipping back with a “Have you?” to which he nods.

“I ate before I hit the studio.” 

A comfortable silence sits between you as you feel his chest rise and fall under you. You still don’t answer his earlier question as you trace the lines of his shirt. You keep looking up at him, admiring him a little (a lot).

“Jokubai, wanna talk about it?”

He lets out a sigh, rubbing up and down your arm as a form of comfort, whether it’s for you or for him, you are both unsure. There’s more stable silence, where he presses a few kisses to your hair, once again squeezing you into him

“Uhh… it… it’s definitely complicated. Woke up late-” He clears his throat. “... I think my student is dropping the sessions with me, which isn’t uh, encouraging. Then practice didn’t go that well either. I was off beat and I broke my drumstick.”

You keep tracing the side of his waist, slipping your hand under his shirt to continue the motions, soothing him. 

“Wait, you broke it? How frustrated were you, babe?” You lay there surprised at his words, your hands halting momentarily.

“Very frustrated.”

You both fall back into more silence, his hands wandering over your back, running his fingertips over your spine. At this point, the sky is starting to darken, the previous hues shifting into purples and deeper blues. 

“It’s okay. You’re home now. We’re both home now.” 

You lift yourself up slightly to see his face fully, cupping his cheeks in your hands so, so softly. His lips tug into a slight smile at the affection, basking in whatever rays of love you are willing to give him at all. Toying with him a little, you rub your thumb over the corner of his lip before leaning in without a second thought, just melding your lips with his. It’s slow. It’s soothing. It’s the epitome of comfort, as if you’re resuscitating him from whatever sulky husk he came home as. 

Your lips continue to press to his, going from soft and comforting to silly and quick. Giggles escape both of you as they spill from your lips and into the other’s, continuing to spread a warmth that rivals a fireplace in the middle of a nordic winter. When you pull away, there’s a massive grin over both your faces, a sparkle in his eyes, the kitchen light glinting off of his dark eyes, making him look ethereal. Not like he doesn’t always look heavenly. 

“Is that better?” You ask him, hands still cupping his face. He nods, pushing his face into your neck, pressing a sweet kiss against your pulse point before breathing you in with a small hum.

“Much better.”

[triciawritesstuff]

hihii!! saw that you were taking lukas radzevičius x reader, may i request a ff in which the reader was the main inspiration for tayo akys?? you may do whatever you see fit :)) thank you so much in advance, love your work!!

‘don’t read the really bad lines okay?’ (req)

lukas radzevičius x fem reader

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶ ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶ ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶ ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶ ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶

you found it by accident

lukas had left in a hurry, a last-minute call from someone on the crew, something about costumes. and forgot his notebook under the seat.

you didn’t mean to notice. it was half-tucked under his hoodie, just barely visible, with one of the pages folded slightly at the edge.

you pick it up without thinking.

it’s old. soft leather. the edges worn down from being shoved in and out of backpacks. the kind of book someone’s been writing in for a while. the kind that means something.

you only mean to glance.

but then you see your name.

written, small, in the top corner of a page.

“y/n”

your fingers go still.

you sit down on the bench and open it properly.

⸻

there are little fragments all over.

some lines are crossed out. some are repeated with different words. some are just… feelings, scribbled half-formed like he didn’t know how to say it right.

tavo akys išneša mane iš galvos

you feel your heart start to thud, slow and loud.

another page has:

she sits like she’s somewhere else. eyes full of something i’ll never reach.

why do i keep looking?

her laugh is quiet. i wish i could hear it more.

some of the lines are in english, some in lithuanian. one page is just your name over and over again in different styles of handwriting, like he was testing how it looked in cursive.

you don’t know what to do.

you close the notebook gently and hold it in your lap.

he wrote about you.

not just a song. not just one verse.

like… pages.

⸻

he finds you outside, still holding it.

he stops walking when he sees it in your hands. his whole face shifts. like he’s trying to act normal and absolutely failing.

“…you found it,” he says, voice low.

you nod.

“i was gonna give it back.”

he shoves his hands in his pockets.

“did you read it?”

you hesitate.

“some.”

he looks like he wants to disappear.

“i didn’t mean for you to. i mean—i didn’t know you’d find it.”

you look at him.

“you wrote my name in it.”

he rubs the back of his neck, eyes on the ground.

“…yeah.”

“it’s about me, right? the song?”

“yeah.”

you hold the notebook tighter in your lap.

“you wrote some really nice things,” you say quietly.

he finally looks at you.

“i meant them.”

you stare at each other for a beat.

then you offer the notebook back.

but lukas shakes his head.

“keep it.”

you blink.

“seriously?”

“yeah.”

his voice is softer now.

“i think you’re supposed to have it.”

you don’t know what to say to that.

so you nod, clutching it a little tighter to your chest.

“thank you,” you say, almost a whisper.

his mouth lifts just slightly.

“don’t read the really bad lines, okay?”

you smile.

“too late.”

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶ ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶ ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶ ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶ ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶

thanks for the compliment, hoped you liked it !!!

a/n: english is not my first language so if you see any misspellings or mistakes, my apologies <3

i see all of you requesting for lukas btw and i will be reading them this week, thank you so much for requesting 🕯️🩷

[triciawritesstuff]

I love your Alanas fic so much!!! I was thinking if you could write something for an anxious reader with either Lukas or Alanas, please

Bring Me Back to Earth.

Lukas Radzevičius x reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort. Depictions of anxiety symptoms. Established relationship. FLUFF!! not beta read :)

Word Count: 0.9k

A/n: TYSM Anon!! You're my first ask so this was very exciting to recieve in my inbox! I hope this is what you wanted me to write for you!

Enjoy!!

Four. Three. Two. One. Two. Three. Four. Three-

Your palms sweat and clam up, eyes screwing tightly shut and your fingers stalling in their grounding movements. It isn’t working.

For whatever reason, it isn’t working at all.

The air feels stagnant, the room claustrophobic but empty as the non-existent clutter is the only thing that your mind can focus on that isn’t the prickle of your skin or the tightness in your chest that grows with more pressure. More, more, more pressure, as if your lungs are being strangled by chafing rubber bands as the feeling of bile reacts like sandpaper in your windpipe. 

Under your breath you try to get out a few words, but the increased harshness makes it impossible to reassure yourself into the ‘five things you can see’ rhythm. Pressing the balls of your hands to your eyes, you force out harsher exhales in the hopes of somewhat stabilising yourself before Lukas comes home.

Oh, Lukas. Sweet, sweet Lukas. Your partner of a year, unaware of your state as he walks the streets of Vilnius, early leaving the studio with ingredients for dinner, of which he could only assume you were going to make balandeliai. 

Your efforts are unsuccessful as the turning of keys at the front door of your apartment causes the hands that tug at the roots of your hair to pause. You stay sat on the kitchen floor, the tiles under you numbingly cold, aiding the tingling in your limbs as you try to heave another breath in, and out. Unable to move in your state, you don’t respond to his call out of your name when he finds the apartment to be oddly quiet.

Whenever he came home, you would always have some sort of noise filling the space that you two made yours, whether it was your phone playing music or droning out tiktok audios, or even the clicking of a bear shaped kitchen timer you had lovingly called Boris. The silence was unusual, worrying even.

“Angel?” He calls out, sliding off his shoes as he pads towards the kitchen; towards the curled up figure trembling and struggling to breathe. As soon as he notices, he drops the bag onto the counter without care, coming to sit in front of you.

“Oh, love, my sweetheart… Can I touch you?”  His hands hover over your wrists, not too close, but enough to make his intentions clear. When you nod slightly, breaths stuttering out of you, he gently takes your hands away from your hair, tracing his thumb along the backs of your hands. 

“Shh Shh Shh… ‘ts okay, can you breathe with me? Just a little..”

Lukas starts to take exaggerated breaths, pressing your hand to the centre of his chest, his heartbeat a calming rhythm in contrast to yours that is beating faster than you would admit in any other circumstance. His dramatic breathing gave you a constant in the clustering atmosphere, guiding you into a better breathing pattern. 

He gently talks you through calming down, muttering small “That’s it”s to you, until the room feels less cluttered, until your limbs feel warm again, until your mind stops talking over itself and makes thoughts clearer. 

“There you are, sweet. Can I hold you?”

With a nod, you allow yourself to be held by him, his hands threading through your hair and supporting your back with the other. Melting into him, your breathing starts to even out even more, those bands suffocating your lungs, slipping off the organ and allowing your frayed nerves to be soothed by the balm of his touches. 

“Welcome home.” You let out hoarsely into his shoulder, muffled by his jacket. The exhaustion from the episode of anxiety seeps deep into your bone marrow, allowing for you to slump against him without any embarrassment to the situation he had found you in.

His concern from before doesn’t waver, soft blue eyes chasing yours to check in with you. A slight frown sets in when he hears your words. How could you be so sweet, so caring towards him after all you’ve been through today?

“You’re always so lovely, you know that? Always putting others before yourself. It worries me sometimes, you know?” He cradles your face in his hands, calloused from years of playing the guitar, not an ounce of anger or upset in his gaze, only love and concern for how you’re feeling.

You only hum in response, neither a confirmation or denial, just grounding yourself in his affections. 

“I think you’re kinder, Lukas. You come home to this and drop everything-”

“-And I'd do that over and over again in a heartbeat. Don’t make yourself sound like a burden because you will never be a burden to anybody. I promise.”

You knew you’d always be safe around him, he’d always be there to hold your heart for you when it gets too heavy. He knows how hard it can be sometimes, and he’ll always be prepared to coax you back to earth, no matter what it takes.

[triciawritesstuff]

What it felt like when Austria won last minute:

[triciawritesstuff]

This year voting was insane and fucking political, thanks all the gods around the world Austria just win and not israel

[triciawritesstuff]

The EBU needs to do an investigation into some of these televotes.

It is unbelievable that Switzerland received no televotes votes, but I am convinced that there is something corrupt happening where a nation can come from the right side of the board to finish so highly.

[triciawritesstuff]

[triciawritesstuff]

Guys guess who's birthday it is today!!! it's mine!!!!

I can feel another year of wisdom entering my brain.

[triciawritesstuff]

Down, Boy.

Pairings: Geum Seongje x Fem!Reader

Summary: Everyone knows that Seongje bites, and you are smart enough to know better. But around you, he wags his tail. Told myself to finish this today so that i would have less drafts. •°○

Genre: a complicated relationship

Warning: Violence, language and gangsterism

W/C: 622

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

You had always been known for your mind. Reserved, unreadable, brilliant. You preferred the quiet—you liked control. The kind of girl with a spine of a steel. You had a reputation and it made people respect you from afar. So imagine their surprise when someone like you—would choose to date someone like him.

Geum Seongje.

It didn't make any sense, not even to you.

══

You had just left the school gates, checking your phone again. You had messaged your boyfriend, Seongje, hours ago. Of course, no reply. Usually, he'd answer within minutes. Sometimes seconds.

- 금성제

R (Where are you?) delivered 2hrsago.

You scowled, shoving your phone back into your pocket. Gosh. You then took the shortcut near Ganghak's back wall, like you always did. The alley was narrow, barely lit by the dying sunlight.

Thud

Rhythmic thuds echo against concrete, a chorus of pained groans and the distant laughter of boys. It sounded like fist meeting flesh. You then turned to the corner and saw him, Geum Seongje, mid swing.

Seongje's voice tore through the air, sharp and unfiltered. "You think you're fucking slick? Huh?" Seongje spat, driving his knee onto the boys stomach. "Bet you can't even piss right after this." His gang stood around, watching in silence. He laughed, now dragging the boy by his shirts neckline—slamming him against the wall.

Your boyfriends red school blazer was unbuttoned, exposing the edges of the inked graphic on his long-sleeved shirt underneath. A nasty grin is painted on his face as he slammed his fist into the boys guts again. "Didn't i say i'd fuck you up?" The poor boy could only groan. "God, you look terrible!" Seongje exclaimed, his eyes wild.

"Seongje." You called, voice firm and sharp.

Seongje glanced over his shoulder. He didn't react. Not at first. But you saw it—how his grin twitched wider. "Tch. You're lucky my girls here." He muttered to the boy, slowly stepping back. "Or i would've left your ass breathing through tubes." With that, the boy limped off— you only stood still as he limped past you, clutching his side. And he hardly dared to glance at you.

You met your boyfriends gaze with a blank expression, arms crossing over your chest. "Lucky bastard. I was about to rip his teeth out." Seongje muttered under his breath. His gang now stood a few paces back, laughing. "Oi. Specs," He called out. One of his gang members then tossed him his glasses, and he caught them with ease.

"You done?" You asked, voice laced with irritation. "You really can't go a day without this shit, can you?" He laughed, loud—cocky, and utterly unbothered. You then turned to his 'minions' and jerked your chin. You command, "Go." You only looked at them coldly—then a voice pipes up with a joke, 'Goodboy, Seongje,' making the others stiffle their laughs.

"What, you guys need a fuckin' map?" You snapped, brows furrowed. Seongje's jaw clenched as he shot them a glare, making them fall silent quickly. "Hey, quit clowning around and listen to the woman." After that, they cleared out. You stepped closer, your arms remaining crossed over your chest.

He only gave you that grin and pulled a cigarette out of his pocket. "Missed me?" You only stared as he lit the cigarette slowly. "You ignoring me?" You asked, voice low. "Shit, my bad. I was going to reply, plus—i was busy beating the fuck outta that bitch." He grinned, dragging smoke between his teeth.

"C'mon." He playfully said. "You know me, baby. I'm allergic to boredom." You didn't say anything. Only giving him that look—eyebrows raised and eyes flicking briefly to the cigarette like it personally offended you. One he didn't miss. You hated the smell, and he knows that. He noticed.

He paused.

He only held your gaze for a second— then sighed, pulling the cig out with a muttered, "Fuckin' hell, babe." and crushed it between his fingers—flicking it away like trash. You scoffed, walking past him—disgusted. "Whew, that look's a killer," He commented. Then, with that stupid cocky grin, he draped his arm around your shoulders.

"I hate you." You muttered, brushing his arm off. "Fuck, i love it when you get mad." You didn't respond back, just kept walking. Seongje only shook his head and chuckled.

"Hate me all you want, baby. I'm still yours."

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

[triciawritesstuff]

Trying to write romantic stuff is so hard. I try to pull from personal experiences and feelings when I write 🥲🥲

Does anyone have any recommendations for romance kdramas or films? Maybe it will inspire me!

[triciawritesstuff]

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

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

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

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

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

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

masterlist | join the taglist | request a fic

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

gotak frowned, “i’ve never met them.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

maybe a little curious.

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

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

you smiled. “hi.”

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

he blinked.

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

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

you stood there for a beat, quiet.

“it’s nice to meet you,” you said.

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

just then, the gym doors creaked open behind you.

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

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

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

you and gotak both said, “no.”

juntae blinked. “...oops.”

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

after that, he finally had an excuse.

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

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

then four.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you weren’t exactly subtle either.

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

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

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

you blinked. “no i don’t.”

he grinned. “yes you do.”

you smacked his arm. “shut up.”

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

he met your gaze.

just for a second.

you looked away first.

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

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

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

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

“yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

during practice one afternoon, it happened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you raised an eyebrow. “yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[triciawritesstuff]

Seong je protective over reader🙏

Honestly go crazy

the ribbon she wore | geum seong je x bullied!reader

summary: at ganghak high, she’s a quiet target for cruel games—until geum seong-je walks in. he almost walks past her, just another victim in the background… until he sees the ribbon she once wore while patching him up. he didn’t plan to step in. but some memories don’t stay silent.

warnings: violence, bullying, emotional distress, brief language, mild trauma, physical aggression .

author's note: i did not go crazy on this because i personally think geum seong je is not that type of man who lays a hand on women.. he consider himself romantic afterall . requests ,,

the gym echoed in emptiness, save for the distant squeak of rubber soles and the faint hum of old ventilation systems. a cold draft slipped through the slightly ajar windows near the ceiling, brushing across the glossy floor. fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting sterile white light over the scuffed wooden panels and the faded half-court lines. it was break time, but the gym remained deserted, save for the low murmurs and sharp, cruel laughter resonating from one corner.

she stood pressed against the far wall, her shoulders hunched, trying to make herself smaller. her backpack had already been yanked away, its contents strewn across the floor—books, pens, a half-open water bottle slowly leaking a thin stream that soaked into the pages. her breathing came out in short, uneven bursts. one of her pigtails had unraveled, hanging limply over her cheek, and her glasses sat crooked on her face. the cracked arm of the frame dug lightly into her temple.

"god, you're so pathetic," the taller girl spat, leaning into her space with a satisfied smirk. she shoved a biology textbook hard into her chest, making her stumble.

"didn’t you say you were gonna tell the teacher last time?" sneered the other girl, crouching just enough to pick up one of her scribbled notebooks, holding it up like it was dirty laundry. "what’s she gonna do, huh? save you from being such a know-it-all freak?"

she clenched her jaw, willing herself not to cry. "i didn’t say anything," she said quietly.

the taller girl laughed. "oh, so now you’re lying too? wow. miss perfect over here’s got claws."

the guy with them—leaning lazily against the folded bleachers—watched on with disinterest, chewing gum, his phone in hand. he barely acknowledged what was going on, except to glance up occasionally and snicker.

the other girl suddenly lunged forward, knocking her glasses to the floor with a harsh flick of her fingers. the lenses clattered, bouncing once before skidding under a nearby bench.

"oops," she said, feigning surprise. "guess you’ll have to read the world in blur now. maybe it’ll match your personality."

the girl flinched as a hand grabbed her collar, pulling her forward and shoving her back again. her head hit the wall with a muted thud. pain throbbed through her skull, but she didn’t make a sound. she wouldn’t give them that satisfaction.

that’s when the gym doors groaned open.

geum seong-je stepped in, his presence like a ripple through still water. he wore the bordeaux school uniform, its deep maroon fabric tailored to a sharp edge that clung to his lean frame with casual indifference. no hoodie, no earbuds—just the crisp collar slightly askew, his sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms. a cigarette dangled loosely from between his fingers, unlit but familiar, like a habit he hadn’t yet decided to break. his eyes swept over the gym, indifferent at first, shadowed by an unbothered calm that veiled something far more dangerous beneath the surface.

he strolled across the court with no rush, hands in his pockets. his gaze passed over the girls, narrowing faintly at the noise but not settling on them.

"yo," he called out to the guy near the bleachers.

the guy looked up and grinned. "finally. thought you ditched."

"almost did. had to smoke out back."

"smelled like trash?"

"worse. like that stray dog that follows you around."

they both laughed, the guy tossing his phone into his backpack. seong-je cracked a faint smile, the closest he got to something resembling amusement.

as they continued trading jabs, the bullying in the background escalated.

the taller girl had now pulled out the contents of the bullied girl’s pencil case, tossing pens across the court one by one like stones into a river. the other girl grabbed her water bottle and emptied it over her hair, slow and deliberate.

"think this’ll help you cool off, brainiac?"

the cold water trickled down her scalp, soaking her shirt and collar. her lips trembled.

"say something," the first girl demanded. "go on. quote a textbook at me. fix your grammar. explain the science of why you're such a loser."

the guy with seong-je chuckled under his breath. "damn. they’re going all out today."

seong-je turned his head slightly. his brows furrowed.

"they’re still at it? thought they'd be done by now."

"they’re bored. that girl’s like a wind-up toy—poke her and she shakes."

seong-je scoffed. "screaming like stray cats."

he turned back, walking past them toward the bleachers again. he didn’t look at the girl. he hadn’t seen her face yet—just another blurred victim in the churn of daily violence.

but then—

as he passed the scene, something flickered in his peripheral vision. a flash of light blue.

the ribbon.

he slowed. stopped.

the taller girl raised her hand again, this time with a clenched fist.

before it could fall, seong-je’s hand closed around her wrist with unrelenting force.

everything stopped.

the girl's face twisted in shock. "seong-je?! what’s your—let go!"

his voice was low. cold.

"back off."

she tried to yank away. his grip only tightened.

the other girl backed up instinctively, nearly tripping over the scattered books. the guy by the bleachers blinked, confused.

"yo, what’s wrong? it’s just some loser girl. you don’t even know her."

but seong-je did know her.

he remembered the way she had sat beside him at the empty bus stop weeks ago, the night sky draped over them like a blanket. she’d seen him bloodied, nose caked with dried crimson, his lip split.

she didn’t scream. she didn’t ask.

she just opened her bag, trembling hands digging out a tiny first aid kit.

she patched him up.

her voice was soft, like a whisper, her eyes unsure but kind. it was the gentlest thing he’d felt in years.

he let go of the girl’s wrist.

only to shove her back hard enough to make her stumble.

"she’s mine," he said, voice like thunder rolling under ice. "touch her again, and i’ll make sure you never touch anything again."

the two girls looked like they’d seen a ghost.

"what the hell is your problem?! she’s nothing—"

"not to me."

the guy stepped forward, trying to de-escalate. "come on, man. chill. this is a joke. you’re acting like she’s your girlfriend or something."

seong-je turned slowly, his gaze sharp. deadly.

"out. all of you."

they hesitated.

he took a step forward.

that was enough.

the girls grabbed their bags, muttering curses under their breath, but their fear betrayed them. the guy followed, muttering "damn, fine" under his breath as they pushed through the gym doors.

and then—

silence.

the only sound was the soft drip of water from her soaked shirt onto the floor.

seong-je turned back. she was still crouched there, arms wrapped around her knees, face hidden by wet strands of hair.

he walked toward her, slowly, until he stood a few feet away.

"it’s you," he said quietly.

she looked up, her eyes wide. red-rimmed. she blinked through blurry vision, struggling to see.

he reached down, knelt beside her.

then, from his jacket pocket, he pulled a small folded cloth—worn and frayed at the edges. the same cloth she had used on him at the bus stop.

"you carry it?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

he shrugged. "didn’t feel right to throw it away."

she took it with shaking hands, dabbing at her face. her glasses were still under the bench.

seong-je retrieved them wordlessly, wiped the lenses with the edge of his shirt, and placed them gently into her palm.

"they’re cracked," she murmured.

"still usable. like you."

she blinked. "was that... a joke?"

"don’t get used to it."

a small smile tugged at her lips, tired but real.

the bell rang, distant, ending break.

he stood.

she followed, swaying slightly. he didn’t offer his hand.

but he stayed close.

they didn’t speak again as they walked out together, side by side.

not friends. not strangers.

something in between. something unknown. but real.

and for now, that was enough.

[triciawritesstuff]

hide me with your lips — geum seong je

chased through the morning streets, she’s pulled into an alley by seong je, who silences her and hides her with a kiss that blurs the line between protection and passion.

You were running.

Only this time, it wasn’t under the cover of darkness, it was morning. Harsh, blinding, golden morning. The kind that made everything too real. Too exposed.

Your boots echoed against the pavement of narrow backstreets, dodging early risers, the scent of bakeries opening up, buses grumbling awake. But they were still behind you those men. Following. Watching. Smirking.

Your pulse spiked.

You turned the corner too fast, nearly tripping and that’s when it happened.

A hand pulled you in the other side of the alley. Your back slammed against a warm chest.

A whisper of smoke and cologne curled into your senses just before your eyes locked with his. Geum Seong-je.

Hair messy. Shirt untucked. That glasses. Cigarette between his lips like a casual threat.

He didn’t look surprised to see you. Just amused. Lethal. Like the morning sun had nothing on the fire in his gaze.

You were still trying to breathe when he flicked the cigarette into a puddle with one gloved hand and grabbed you with the other.

Then without warning he kissed you.

Not gently. Not even remotely.

His hand slipped behind your neck, holding you still like you were something fragile and feral all at once. His lips found yours with a hunger that didn’t belong to 7 a.m. His mouth tasted like mint and smoke and every argument you’d ever had.

You didn’t kiss back because you were supposed to.

You kissed back because your body betrayed you.

Because something in you had been aching for this, whether you admitted it or not.

You didn’t even think about it. You just felt.

Felt the heat of him, the safety, the danger, the—you’re mine and I’m mad about it—flavor of the moment.

Your fingers tangled in his hoodie. He pressed you against the brick wall of some sleepy café, morning sun dripping like honey through the narrow gap between buildings.

Somewhere, a delivery truck honked. A pigeon fluttered off a windowsill.

Still he kissed you like the world was ending. Or beginning.

He finally pulled back, breathing hard, eyes blazing.

You were both breathless, hearts thudding in sync like a war drum under your skin. Seong-je had leaned back just enough to look at you, eyes narrowed like he was figuring you out all over again.

“You looked like you needed saving,” he muttered. “So I figured I’d kill two birds with one kiss.”

You blinked, dazed. “That… that was not how I thought my morning would go.”

He smirked, brushing a thumb across your lips. “Stick with me, princess. Mornings only get weirder.”

Then you heard it. Loud footsteps. Male voices. Too close.

You stiffened. “Shit,” you breathed, eyes darting toward the mouth of the alley. “It’s them–”

Before you could move, his hand was already back on your neck.

“Don’t look,” he muttered, and then he kissed you again.

But this time it wasn’t fire and fury. It was a strategy.

He pressed you deeper into the wall, body shielding yours completely. One hand braced against the brick behind your head, the other cradling your jaw so gently it made your breath hitch.

His lips found yours again, slower now. More intimate. Like a secret being whispered across skin.

From the street, all anyone would see was a couple tangled up in each other, locked in a stolen moment too intense to interrupt. No one would look twice. Not at your face. Not at your fear. Not at you.

and god help you, you kissed him back.

Your hands curled into the front of his hoodie, not just for effect but for stability. His kiss deepened, the pressure of his body anchoring you as voices passed by just feet away.

“She went this way, I swear..”

“C’mon, let’s check the main road.”

The footsteps faded. The threat evaporated. But still, he didn’t move. Not until the silence returned.

Then slowly, painfully, he pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, breath ghosting over your lips like the memory of thunder.

“Looks like I saved you again,” he murmured. His voice was teasing, but the tremble in it betrayed him.

You looked up at him, dazed. “Was that… necessary?”

He smirked—lazy, crooked thing that made your stomach twist. “You tell me. You didn’t exactly fight me off.”

You wanted to say something sharp. Something clever. Instead, you just whispered, “You’re good at that.”

His gaze flickered. “At kissing?”

“At hiding me.”

His smirk faded just a little. “That’s not what I want to be good at.”

————————————————————————

got a little freaky with my freaky ahh playlist playing while writing this down and thinking abt geum seongje🤌🏻🤓

© l1v-jzn