elikajinnie

[elikajinnie]

im single now and only for the wifeys x

[elikajinnie]

hiii!!! can I pleasee request another slytherin!heeseung fiiccc? I have no specifications it’s really up to youu I just miss my slytherin!heeseung 💚🐍

P: Slytherin!Heeseung X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Tension, Feelings Realisation, Taesan cameo, Very Suggestive Content, Jealousy, Teasing, Possessive Behaviour, Rivalry?

Synopsis: Being one of the smartest students at Hogwarts had its perks… and its downsides. Case in point: you’re now stuck tutoring the Slytherin Prince, Lee Heeseung who looks just as thrilled about this arrangement as you are. With his pride and your stubbornness, neither of you want to admit that the tension isn’t just academic frustration, so it’s only a matter of time before someone breaks the ice.

a/n: been letting this sit for too long in my drafts..

You had your fair share of students come and go—some eager, some desperate, and a few who were just hopeless cases trying to coast on charm alone. Transfiguration, Herbology, Potions, Muggle Studies… you’d tutored in them all. Somewhere along the way, without even meaning to, you'd built a reputation. The kind of reputation that followed you through corridors and whispered in the spaces between classes—one of the gifted ones, the prodigies. The student with the highest potential in your year.

They said you'd make a brilliant Auror one day. That you were bound for something great, something important. You heard it often—from professors, from classmates, from those wide-eyed first-years who nervously asked for help with their essays. Slughorn, in particular, never missed a chance to sing your praises, his twinkling eyes always watching you like he already saw your name in the Prophet headlines.

You didn’t care much for any of that.

It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate the acknowledgment, or that you didn’t enjoy helping others. It was just… none of it felt like you. The applause, the ambition others projected onto you—it never reached deep enough to move you. You did what you were good at because it came naturally. Because it gave you something to focus on. Something to control.

And you wanted your life to be under control. You needed it to be. Every parchment neatly organized, every schedule memorized down to the hour. Your wand movements were precise, your essays meticulously worded, your notes color-coded and charmed to reshuffle themselves in alphabetical order if anyone dared mess with them.

Because if one thing slipped—even just a little—you weren't sure what would happen.

One step out of line, and you didn’t know what to do. Chaos made your skin itch. Uncertainty felt like standing on the edge of a broomstick at impossible heights with no safety charm in place. You didn’t do messy. Or unpredictable. Or reckless.

Which is exactly why he irritated you so much.

Lee Heeseung.

He was everything you disliked wrapped in a too-confident grin and that stupidly charming laugh that echoed through the corridors when you were just trying to concentrate. It was like he had been placed on this earth—sorted into Hogwarts—for the sole purpose of ruining your peace.

He was loud. He was chaotic. He strolled into class five minutes late like he owned the place, hair a mess, tie half-untied, and somehow still managed to get away with it every time. He was too laidback, like he’d never felt the pressure of a deadline in his life. He flirted with danger the way most people flirted with their crushes—boldly, carelessly, like he knew he’d come out unscathed.

And worst of all? He was a professor’s pet.

But not in the hardworking, straight-A kind of way. No, he got away with everything on sheer charisma. He cracked jokes that made even Professor Flitwick chuckle during lectures, and Professor Slughorn—who had once told you that your potion skills were “brilliant for your age”—had the audacity to say Heeseung’s last-minute disaster of a draft had “potential, if not promise.”

You despised him. Truly, sincerely, deeply.

So when Professor McGonagall cornered you after class with that look in her eyes—the one that meant you were about to be volunteered for something you didn’t want—you already knew who it would be.

“Mr. Lee is falling behind in Transfiguration,” she said, as if that were a surprise to anyone. “And I believe you’re the best person to help him.”

Of course you were.

Of course she would say that.

And of course, the next time you saw him, leaning against the wall outside the classroom with his hands in his pockets and that damned smirk on his face, you already knew how this would end.

“Well, well,” he said, pushing off the wall to fall into step beside you. “Looks like you’re stuck with me, genius.”

Merlin help you.

“I have a name, you know,” you muttered, not bothering to look at him.

“Oh, I know it,” he replied, voice dripping with forced enthusiasm. “I’ve heard it enough—‘top of the class this,’ ‘perfect marks that.’ Bet you’ve already got your future planned out by the hour.”

You rolled your eyes. “Flattery won’t make me go easy on you.”

“I’m not trying to flatter you,” he muttered under his breath.

You glanced at him. His usual grin wasn’t quite as smug—if anything, he looked vaguely irritated, like he’d just been assigned detention with a particularly strict professor. Which, to be fair, wasn't that far off.

“If you think I’m thrilled about this,” he added, “you’ve got another thing coming.”

You stopped walking.

Heeseung nearly bumped into you.

“Okay,” you said sharply, turning to face him. “Here’s how this is going to go. You meet me in the library after dinner—on time. You bring your notes, you shut up, and you listen. If you’re not serious about this, don’t waste my time.”

Heeseung sighed, running a hand through his hair like he was already regretting everything.

“Yeah, yeah. I got it,” he muttered. “Let’s just get this over with.”

You didn’t believe him for a second.

Later that evening, you sat at one of the quieter corners of the library, books already spread out, ink bottle open, quill poised. You’d even drafted a lesson plan—because of course you had. You were five minutes early. He was seven minutes late.

Naturally.

When he finally slouched in, he looked every bit like someone headed to a funeral. He dropped his bag onto the table with a dull thud, flopped into the chair across from you, and gave you a dead-eyed stare.

“Can’t believe I’m spending my evening like this.”

“You and me both,” you said flatly, sliding a textbook across the table. “Page seventy-three. We’re starting with Switching Spells. If you’re not at least decent by the end of the week, I’m telling McGonagall to assign someone else.”

Heeseung opened the book with a sigh, flipping to the page like it physically pained him.

“You threatening to give up on me already? We just started.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Try me.”

He didn’t smile. He didn’t talk. He just looked at the page like it had personally offended him.

Merlin, this was going to be a long week.

It had been three days. Three long, patience-testing, soul-draining days.

And Heeseung hadn’t taken a single one of them seriously.

Every evening you sat in the same corner of the library with your neatly organized notes and structured lesson plans, and every evening he showed up like it was some sort of social event. He greeted half the students on the way in, stopping mid-step to fist-bump friends, wink at passing girls, and occasionally ruffle the hair of a random first-year like he was the Hogwarts mascot.

And when he finally sat down across from you, he didn’t sit. He slouched. Laid back like the chair was a hammock and this was a holiday. You’d start talking—calmly, clearly, even with diagrams—and he’d nod like he was listening, then immediately start doodling little Quidditch plays in the margins of his parchment. Or worse—he’d turn to whisper to students at the nearby tables. You’d hear little bursts of laughter, the quiet flutter of someone giggling at whatever stupid, charming thing he’d said.

By the fourth time he leaned over to flirt with a girl who “just so happened” to pass by your table, something in you snapped.

You placed your quill down slowly, deliberately, and looked at him.

“Heeseung,” you said with an edge of tight restraint. “Do you mind?”

He turned to you, raising a brow, lips still curled in that maddening grin. “What? Just being friendly.”

“I’m trying to help you,” you said through clenched teeth. “And you’re too busy chatting, drawing, or—Merlin forbid—flirting to actually pay attention. Can you stop wasting my time?”

He blinked innocently. “Aw, come on, are you jealous?”

You inhaled sharply.

“Jealous?” you repeated, your voice calm—dangerously so.

He smirked, eyes dancing. “Of them. All these girls getting my attention when you want it so bad.”

You were this close to hexing him on the spot.

Instead, you exhaled and sat back, pressing your fingers together tightly to keep from reaching for your wand.

“Focus,” you said slowly, voice low but firm. “Please.”

He paused, and for a second—one second—you thought maybe, maybe you’d gotten through to him.

But then he leaned in, resting his chin on his hand as he looked you up and down in a way that made your skin buzz.

“Oh, I’d very gladly focus on you,” he said, voice dropping into that infuriating, flirty drawl. “Whenever I want.”

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t blush. You didn’t so much as blink.

Because you knew—everyone knew—that Lee Heeseung was handsome. Stupidly so. And charming. And infuriating. And just the kind of boy you’d spent your whole academic career staying the hell away from.

So instead of reacting, you looked him dead in the eyes and said, flatly, “I’d say you have the attention span of a flobberworm, but honestly? That’s an insult to flobberworms.”

He laughed—laughed—and slouched even further down in his seat.

Then, like he had all the time in the world, he picked up the textbook, flipped it open lazily, and spread his legs under the table like he was stretching out in his dormitory and not the school library.

The audacity.

You were mid-sentence, trying—still trying—to go over the theory of Switching Spells when he tilted the book sideways, squinting at it like the text was written in ancient runes.

You cleared your throat, sharp and pointed.

He didn’t ignore it this time.

His gaze snapped to yours.

But instead of the usual mischief, or that smug grin he wore like second skin, what you got was something else entirely.

Focus.

His undivided attention. His dark eyes locked on you with a sudden intensity that hit you like a Stupefy to the chest.

You almost gasped.

Almost.

Swallowing nervously you forced your voice to remain steady. “Did you get that, or are you just pretending again?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he blinked slowly, then leaned forward—arms resting on the table now. “You talk like I haven’t been listening this whole time.”

You scoffed. “You’ve done everything but listen.”

“I watch,” he said simply. “I pick things up.”

His eyes flicked to your hand, where your fingers gripped the quill just a little too tightly, then back up to your face.

“I pick you up.”

Your pulse stuttered.

You hated how it did that. Hated how your body reacted when your brain was screaming to stay cool.

But you didn’t let it show.

You leaned forward slightly, voice cold and crisp. “Then pick this up too: if you don’t stop wasting my time, I will stop tutoring you. And Professor McGonagall won’t save you from the next exam.”

You then picked up your wand and pointed to the diagram in the book, keeping your eyes on the page and not on the heat of his gaze.

“Now. Watch closely.”

And for once, he did.

His eyes didn’t flick away. No snide comment, no snort of fake interest, no distracted glance at someone walking by. Just full, uninterrupted attention on you.

And you didn’t know if you preferred it when he wasn’t focusing on you.

Because when he wasn’t, it made you annoyed. Angry, even. You could deal with that. You were good at handling irritation. You’d perfected the art of brushing it off, biting back sharp words, and pushing through.

But when he was?

When his gaze followed your every movement, when his expression dropped all traces of that cocky, careless mask he always wore, when he tilted his head just slightly like he was trying to understand you, trying to see how you worked?

It made your skin warm.

It made your throat tighten and your hands go still for a beat too long.

It made you flushed.

You kept your focus on the parchment between you, using it like a shield. You lifted your wand, demonstrated the proper movement for the Switching Spell—slow, precise, circular—and muttered the incantation under your breath. The inkwell and the candle beside it switched places instantly.

“Got it?” you asked, proud of the steadiness in your voice.

He didn’t answer right away.

“Yeah,” he said, a bit lower than usual. “Yeah, I got it.”

You looked up, and there it was again—that look. Not amused. Not impressed. Just… locked in.

You snapped your fingers, trying to shatter the tension like it was just another spell. “Then show me.”

Heeseung leaned back, rolled his shoulders, and picked up his wand with an ease that was almost insulting. For someone who was supposedly failing, he sure held it like he knew what he was doing.

“Don’t half-ass it,” you warned.

He smirked, but there was something less smug about it this time.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, and cast the spell.

The movement wasn’t perfect—his circle was too wide—but the objects did switch places, albeit with a small spark and a thud that made the nearby students jump.

You blinked.

He looked down at the table, then up at you with a crooked grin. “Close enough?”

You didn’t say anything at first. Because no, it wasn’t perfect. But it wasn’t bad, either. It was better than anything you expected from him.

“…Lucky shot,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

But he only chuckled, sitting back with that same maddening confidence. “Nah. Told you I pick things up.”

And again, that gaze lingered.

You turned back to your notes to hide the way your pulse betrayed you, scribbling something down just to keep your hands moving.

Because if he kept looking at you like that…

You weren’t sure what would burn first. Your face. Or your patience.

Good news for you was that things did change. Not overnight, but gradually—just enough that it made you question the entire reason you ever thought this tutoring arrangement was a waste of time.

Heeseung didn’t stop acting like a cocky, insufferable idiot, though. No, that part remained stubbornly the same. He’d show up late, talk too much, make offhand comments that usually made you want to hex him, and still find ways to turn every lesson into some kind of twisted competition. But something else had shifted, too—something deeper than his usual antics.

When he listened, he really listened. When he struggled, he admitted it (rarely, but it happened). And when you got frustrated with him, he didn’t ignore it, or brush it off with some half-hearted attempt at humor. No, he seemed... almost genuinely concerned. But only for a second. Then his pride took over again, like some kind of safety mechanism to protect that delicate ego of his.

It was maddening.

One evening, after a particularly tough session with a tricky Transfiguration charm, Heeseung let out an exaggerated sigh, running a hand through his hair like the world was falling apart. His textbook lay open in front of him, the pages filled with smudged notes and scribbled doodles.

“I’m just saying,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “Transfiguration isn’t supposed to be this hard. It’s supposed to be about finesse. A little magic here, a little concentration there...”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that why you still can’t turn your quill into a bird?”

He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Don’t remind me.”

You scoffed, eyes narrowing as you crossed your arms. “What’s your excuse this time?”

“I don’t have an excuse,” he muttered, but his tone lacked the usual bravado. He looked down at his wand, tapping it idly on the table. “Just... sometimes it’s harder than it looks.”

“Sometimes?” You shot him a skeptical glance. “You’ve been barely passing this whole year, Heeseung.”

He flinched at the words, the usual cheeky smile fading for just a second, but then he quickly recovered, slapping his hand on the table with a grin. “It’s not that bad.”

You weren’t having it. “It is that bad. You can’t keep slacking off and expect things to work out, Heeseung. Not everything can be handed to you because of your charm or your looks.”

His expression shifted again—this time, he looked a little less amused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

It was your turn to bite back your frustration. “You act like you don’t care about anything but your reputation. But if you actually put in the effort, you might actually get somewhere.”

There was a long, tense silence between the two of you. Heeseung’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, it almost seemed like he was going to snap at you. But then he just looked away, clearly annoyed.

“Whatever,” he muttered, shoving his book aside. “Not like I need to impress anyone. I’m just here because you’re too stubborn to let me fail.”

You scoffed. “You think I care if you fail? I care because you’re better than this. I’ve seen it, Heeseung. I know you’re capable of more than this laziness.”

He shot you a quick, almost bitter smile, though there was something different in his eyes. “So you do care.”

You froze, caught off guard by his words. But you couldn’t let it show, so you quickly masked it with a scoff. “What? No. I just don’t want to waste my time with someone who thinks they can coast through everything. If I’m tutoring you, you might as well try.”

Heeseung leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, a glimmer of that familiar smirk returning. “So, you do care, but not because of me. Got it.”

You glared at him, but there was something in his expression—something that wasn’t the usual cocky arrogance. It was vulnerability, but it lasted only a moment before he buried it under his usual snark.

“I don’t care about your pride, Heeseung. I care about you getting a decent grade. You don’t have to keep acting like you’ve got everything figured out, because trust me—you don’t.”

Heeseung didn’t respond at first, but when he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, more serious than usual.

“I don’t need anyone’s help, alright?” He looked you in the eye, his expression hardening. “But I’m here because... maybe I want to try. Not for you. But for myself.”

You paused. That wasn’t what you were expecting. But instead of softening in the moment, you just shook your head.

“Then stop pretending it’s all easy. Focus, Heeseung. Or you’re not going to get anywhere.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his gaze unreadable, before his lips curled into that annoying half-smile.

“Fine,” he said, pushing the book back in front of him. “But don’t act like I’m going to be good at it just because you say so.”

“Don’t act like you’re above it, and we’ll get along just fine.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes, the motion so exaggerated that it almost looked like it hurt. “Yeah, yeah. Sure, genius. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You just glared at him, but he didn’t seem to care. Instead, he grabbed a piece of parchment, uncaringly scribbling something down, his concentration on the paper only lasting a second. And then—of course—he crumpled it into a ball, smirking like a mischievous child.

Before you could even react, he flicked his wand, and the ball unfolded, neatly transformed into a paper plane. With another flick of his wand, he sent it sailing through the air.

It was perfect. Too perfect.

It flew across the table and landed with ease at a nearby group of girls who were quietly studying—or so you thought. They looked up, surprised at first, but as one of them picked up the paper, curiosity lit up in their eyes. She unfolded it, quickly scanning the message, then immediately burst into giggles. The others leaned in to read it, then broke into even louder giggles.

You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at the table, watching as they passed the note around. The girls all glanced at Heeseung, their giggles escalating.

Heeseung, as usual, couldn’t resist. He winked at them, a self-satisfied smirk tugging at his lips, before looking back at you.

You groaned, rubbing your temple in disbelief. "You’ve got to be kidding me."

Heeseung leaned back in his chair, looking entirely too pleased with himself as he casually surveyed the girls across the room, whose attention was now entirely on him.

“You know,” he drawled, his voice low, “you should stop groaning so much. It’s a little... distracting.”

You glared at him, but the look on his face told you he was only getting started. He leaned in, dropping his voice an octave lower as his eyes slowly traced over you—way too much attention for your liking.

“Tell me," he teased, voice dripping with mischief, “what other sounds can you make?”

You felt your heart jump in your chest, but you refused to let it show. Instead, you just crossed your arms, straightened your posture, and focused on the textbook in front of you, trying to act like he didn’t just pull your focus away from everything you were trying to do.

But then—damn him—he took his time eyeing you up and down, and that was when he did it: He bit his bottom lip slowly, like he knew exactly what that simple motion was doing to you.

You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks despite yourself. It was bad enough he was acting like this—completely insufferable. But the worst part? It was working.

You shook your head, pushing the feelings down. "You’re so annoying," you muttered, knowing full well you’d never get through this session if you kept reacting to his ridiculous antics.

He leaned back in his chair again, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Oh, don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t bite... unless you want me to.”

You wanted to throw your book at him. You really did. But you didn’t. Instead, you just rubbed your temples again, trying to keep your voice steady.

“You’re wasting my time, Heeseung. Focus.”

“Focus?” He arched an eyebrow at you. “I’m always focused. You’re the one with the fascinating reactions.”

You opened your mouth to snap back at him, but he was already standing, stretching his arms above his head, clearly in no hurry to actually do any of the work you’d assigned.

“What are you doing?” you asked through gritted teeth.

“Taking a break,” he said, flashing you another one of those infuriating smiles. “You’ve been at this for hours. Don’t tell me you don’t need one, too.”

Your fingers twitched toward your wand, ready to curse him into next week, but instead, you held yourself back. “I’m fine,” you said, voice tight. “You go ahead and enjoy your little break.”

He winked at you again before strolling over to the girls at the other table, as if they were more interesting than your study session—or you, for that matter.

And it drove you mad. He’d clearly given up on pretending to care about the lesson, and that annoyed you more than it should have.

You were left to grumble quietly under your breath, flipping through the pages of the textbook without really reading a word. You could feel the frustration building again. No matter how much you tried to focus, you kept thinking about how much easier it would be to just report Heeseung to Professor McGonagall and be done with it. The constant interruptions, the childish distractions—he was making it impossible to tutor him. But then again, you had agreed. You’d taken this on because you thought you could make him better, and you hated admitting when something was beyond your control.

But with every lesson that went by and with Heeseung clearly not caring, your patience was running thin. You had a reputation to protect, and you refused to let him make a mockery of that. But deep down, you were tired. And that was the part you hated the most, the fact that you did care, even if he didn’t seem to.

Lost in your thoughts, you barely even noticed the shift in the air around you. It wasn’t until you heard a voice call your name that you snapped out of it.

“Hey,” the voice was familiar—warm and friendly. “Mind if I sit?”

You blinked, looking up from your notes to see your friend Taesan sliding into the seat next to you.

“Taesan?” you muttered, surprised but relieved to see him. You hadn’t even realized you were so wound up. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said, his voice light as he dropped his bag beside him and began pulling out his own materials. He looked over at the table where Heeseung was still chatting with the girls, the laughter from across the room not at all surprising to him. “Is that your project for the day?” He nodded toward your open Transfiguration textbook.

You snorted, rubbing the back of your neck as you forced yourself to relax. “You could say that. More like a hopeless case.”

Taesan raised an eyebrow. “A hopeless case? Someone finally getting under your skin?” He turned to look at Heeseung with a knowing glance. “I take it the charm of Mr. Unpredictable isn’t working in your favor?”

You sighed, closing the book with a snap, the frustration bubbling over despite your best efforts to hold it in. “Heeseung isn’t getting anywhere. He doesn’t even try. He just ignored me at first. But now, he’s making me look like a joke.”

“Sounds like he’s really pushing your buttons,” Taesan remarked, a teasing glint in his eyes. “But you’re not giving up, right? Because if you’re thinking of quitting, I’ll need to get some popcorn for this show.”

You rolled your eyes, but his words made you pause. You couldn’t give up, could you? Not after everything you’d put into trying to help him. You weren’t the type to throw in the towel—especially not now.

“I don’t know,” you muttered, almost to yourself. “He’s just making everything so much harder than it needs to be. I don’t know how much more I can do, Taesan. I’ve tried everything.”

Taesan leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head in that carefree way he always did, his expression suddenly serious. “You know, sometimes people act out because they’re scared. Or because they don’t want to face what’s right in front of them. Maybe that’s why Heeseung’s acting like such a... pain in the ass.” He looked at you, then back at Heeseung. “He might need someone to call him on his crap. But it’s clear that someone isn’t gonna be you unless you’re okay with taking the risk.”

You stared at him, unsure how to respond. “But I can’t just... let it slide. I’m responsible for this. I said I’d help him. If I bail now, I’d look like I can’t even keep my word.”

Taesan shrugged nonchalantly. “So what? If you need a break, you need a break. You’re not going to be able to help him if you’re burning out yourself.”

He had a point. You were burning out. It wasn’t just Heeseung—it was all the pressure you’d put on yourself to fix everything. You hadn’t realized how much it had been weighing on you until this moment.

Taesan smiled knowingly. “Look, whatever you decide, just remember that you don’t have to do it alone. Sometimes even the people who act like they don’t care the most are the ones who need help the most. But you can’t save him if you’re drowning yourself.”

You exhaled slowly, letting his words sink in. “I don’t even know how to start,” you said softly.

“Then start by letting go of the idea that you have to do it all,” Taesan said, giving you a reassuring look. “You don’t have to fix him. Just... let him find his own way. But you’ve got to stop trying to control everything. It’ll help.”

You were silent for a long moment, the weight of his words settling over you. Maybe you didn’t have to fix everything. Maybe you just needed to let Heeseung handle his own mess for once.

But you couldn’t help the lingering doubt. Was you stepping back enough? Would he finally get it?

Taesan snapped his fingers, pulling you from your thoughts. “Hey, we’re friends, right? So don’t think you’re getting away that easily. You are going to help me with Herbology later, right?”

You smiled, despite the lingering frustration. “Yeah, I guess I owe you one.”

He chuckled and nudged you with his shoulder. “That’s the spirit.”

Taesan's lighthearted smile pulled you out of your thoughts as you looked over at him. You couldn’t help but chuckle a little too. It felt good to just be with someone who didn’t make everything feel like a battle. He was calm, focused, and actually listened.

“Alright,” you said, shifting your attention to Taesan’s Herbology assignment, “let’s see what you’ve got.”

He grinned sheepishly, pulling out a parchment covered in messy notes. “I know, I know, I’ve been slacking on this. Help me out, yeah?”

You couldn’t help but smile at him. “I’ll give you the basics. The rest is on you.”

The two of you spent the next while reviewing the material together—practical plant care, the finer points of herbology ingredients, and their magical uses. The difference between working with Taesan and Heeseung was night and day. Taesan actually engaged with the lesson, asked questions when he was confused, and gave you his full attention. It felt like a relief. You were able to help him piece everything together, and you even managed to finish his assignment far faster than you’d expected.

“So,” Taesan said, setting down his quill, “how’d I do?”

You reviewed his work with a critical eye before nodding. “Better than usual. Just pay more attention to the details next time, but overall, not bad.”

Taesan looked pleased, but then his smile faltered slightly as he glanced over your shoulder. You heard the familiar sound of footsteps, and despite your best efforts to ignore it, you knew exactly who it was before you even turned around.

Heeseung.

And the look on his face made your stomach drop.

He wasn’t mad, per se, but his gaze was sharp—like a storm brewing just behind those dark eyes. And more importantly, he wasn’t happy to see Taesan sitting there.

Taesan, ever the easygoing one, noticed the shift in Heeseung’s demeanor and raised an eyebrow. “Did I miss something, or is there a problem, Heeseung?”

Heeseung’s gaze flicked between you and Taesan, his jaw tightening for a brief second before he forced a smirk onto his face. “No problem,” he said, his voice too casual to be genuine. “I just didn’t realize you two were so cozy.”

You could feel your nerves tingle, and you noticed Taesan’s posture shift slightly. You quickly turned to face Heeseung, trying to keep your voice steady.

“You’re late,” you said, keeping the irritation from creeping in. “Did you finally get done with your ‘break’?”

Heeseung didn’t answer you right away. Instead, he glanced back at Taesan again, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “I didn’t think I needed an invitation to join the fun, but I see you’ve found someone else to entertain you.” His eyes narrowed slightly as he continued, “You sure he’s... worthy of your time?”

Taesan didn’t even flinch at the insinuation. He leaned back in his chair, clearly unfazed by Heeseung’s attempt at intimidation. “I don’t need your approval, mate. We were just talking—something you might want to try more of.”

You could feel the tension crackling between them. It wasn’t the first time Heeseung had been possessive or thrown a subtle jab, but you couldn’t help the growing sense of discomfort that settled in your chest.

“I’m here to study, not to deal with this,” you said, cutting in before things escalated any further. You stood up, setting your quill down with a little more force than necessary. “Heeseung, sit down. Let’s get this over with.”

Heeseung looked at you for a long moment, his face unreadable. Then, to your surprise, he did as you asked. He pulled out the seat across from you, though he was clearly still holding a grudge.

You sat back down, trying to ignore the tense atmosphere between him and Taesan, who was now staring Heeseung down with the same quiet defiance. There was a moment where you thought Heeseung might open his mouth and throw a remark, but then, he just sighed.

“Fine,” he muttered, dropping his bag on the table and flipping open his textbook. “Let’s get this over with.”

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken words. Taesan, sensing that things had shifted enough, gave you a small, almost apologetic smile before standing up to gather his things. “I’m gonna head out. Looks like you’ve got this under control,” he said, his tone still light, though there was a knowing edge to it.

You nodded gratefully, smiling back at him. “Thanks, Taesan. Don’t worry about me.”

Taesan gave you a casual wave before heading toward the door, leaving you alone with Heeseung.

Once he was gone, the tension in the air thickened. Heeseung didn’t look at you, instead focusing on the book in front of him, but you could feel the way his mood had shifted. The easygoing act was gone. Now, it was just the two of you, and for the first time in a long time, you weren’t sure how this was going to go.

“So,” you said, trying to fill the awkward silence, “ready to focus?”

Heeseung didn’t immediately respond. Instead, he turned his attention to the textbook in front of him, flipping through the pages with surprising focus. For a moment, the only sound was the rustling of parchment and the quiet humming from Heeseung. You waited, unsure of whether you should prod further or just let him work.

To your surprise, he muttered something under his breath, then pointed his wand at the textbook, murmuring the incantation. You had expected him to stumble, as he had so many times before. But when he flicked his wrist, the transformation happened on the first try. The object on the table shifted seamlessly—just like it was supposed to.

You blinked, staring at him for a moment, before glancing at the textbook. It was perfect.

“Did you... just—?” You couldn’t even finish your question, your surprise evident in your voice.

Heeseung didn’t seem fazed at all. He shrugged nonchalantly, dropping his wand onto the table with a casual gesture. “Yeah. First try. I’m not completely hopeless, you know.”

Your mind raced, trying to make sense of it. For the last few days, you’d been ready to give up on him, thinking he was either not trying or just plain incapable. But this? This was... different.

“You’ve been holding back, haven’t you?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him. Something didn’t sit right. It was too easy, too quick for someone who had been struggling with the incantations for so long.

Heeseung glanced at you with a bored expression, as if he couldn’t care less about your suspicion. “No, I just didn’t feel like trying before. But if you want me to pass, guess I have to get serious.” He said it like it was no big deal, like it was nothing.

You stared at him, speechless for a moment, before you caught yourself. This wasn’t the Heeseung you were used to. No, this one was determined. And the fact that he’d done it so effortlessly made you wonder just how much of his previous behavior was an act.

“You’re telling me you’ve been pretending this whole time?” You couldn’t quite hide the incredulity in your voice. “You’ve been messing around just for fun?”

Heeseung met your gaze, his expression unreadable. “Maybe,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards into a small, mischievous smile. “Or maybe I just didn’t think you’d be able to handle it.”

You felt a sharp pang of annoyance rise up. “Handle it? You’ve been wasting my time with this nonsense?”

Heeseung’s smile widened slightly, but there was no mockery in it. “Well, it’s not like I’ve been completely wasting your time,” he said lightly. “Look at you. You’ve been pushing yourself so hard, just to fix me. And now... well, now you get to see that I’m capable of more than you think.”

For a split second, you were caught off guard by the way he said it. His words weren’t condescending, nor were they playful in the usual way.

You sighed, rubbing your temple. “This is so much more complicated than I thought.”

Heeseung leaned back in his chair, looking at you with an unreadable expression. “Life is complicated. You should know that by now.”

And with that, he grabbed his wand again, flicking it casually at the book in front of him, demonstrating the spell again, as if to prove a point.

Again, there was no hesitation in his movements. Just a simple, clean transformation of the object on the page.

You had to admit it—he’d done it again. Perfectly.

You couldn't help but feel a bit unnerved. Was Heeseung really just playing you the whole time? Or was there something else going on here? Either way, you had no idea what to make of it.

“Alright, you’re done,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him. “Just... don’t let it go to your head.”

Heeseung didn’t respond at first, but you could feel his gaze on you as he packed away his things. When he did speak, it was quieter than before, almost... serious.

“I’m just getting started...”

It was the first time he’d said anything without his usual swagger. And it sent a ripple of unease through you.

It was much easier for you to get Heeseung to focus after that day. His sudden progress—effortless and unnerving—was like a shift in the universe that made everything feel just a bit off. He listened now, followed instructions without teasing, and actually managed to nail every single spell you demonstrated. For once, he wasn’t playing games. The lessons were no longer frustrating. They were... manageable.

But you couldn’t shake the suspicion that had wormed its way into your mind.

It was too much of a coincidence that Heeseung’s sudden motivation came right after he saw you with Taesan. And it wasn’t like you were blind. You knew there was something between them. You weren’t stupid. The way Heeseung would glare at Taesan, the tension between them—it was obvious.

You could tell from their interactions that there was a rivalry, maybe even something more personal. The small comments Heeseung had made, the way he’d been on edge when he saw Taesan at the library, it didn’t take much to piece it together. You weren’t used to meddling in other people’s business, but this situation had you curious. You weren’t sure if it was just Heeseung being... Heeseung, or if there was something else at play.

So, you did what anyone would do when they were curious: you asked Taesan.

It wasn’t hard to find him. He was sitting at a table in the Great Hall, eating with a few friends. You walked over and slid into the seat across from him, giving him a small smile.

"Hey," you said casually, your voice low so the others wouldn’t overhear. "I need to ask you something."

Taesan looked up from his meal, pausing when he saw the seriousness on your face. “Sure, what’s up?”

You glanced over at Heeseung, who was sitting at a table nearby, surrounded by his usual crowd. He looked as smug as ever, but you couldn’t miss the way his eyes flickered to you and Taesan for a moment.

“Is there something going on between you and Heeseung?” you asked bluntly, cutting straight to the point.

Taesan blinked at you in surprise, but then he chuckled, shaking his head. “You noticed, huh?”

“Of course I did. You two are clearly not on the best terms. What’s going on?”

Taesan leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful for a moment before he spoke. "We’re rivals. Quidditch rivals, to be exact." He shrugged nonchalantly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You know the competition, right? He’s a Chaser, I’m the Seeker. We’ve been going at it for years.”

You raised an eyebrow. "Quidditch? That’s it?"

Taesan chuckled again, this time with a bit more warmth. “It’s more than just the game. There’s... a bit of history between us. It goes beyond the pitch. We’ve always been at odds. Heeseung likes to act like he’s all carefree and cool, but trust me, there’s a lot of pride under that laid-back act.”

You couldn’t help but frown at that. Of course Heeseung had pride. You’d seen it firsthand. But you didn’t realize how much of it was tied up in something as simple as a rivalry. It felt deeper than that, more personal.

So you leaned in slightly, lowering your voice. “You said it goes beyond the pitch. What did you mean by that? What history?”

Taesan let out a long, tired sigh, raking a hand through his hair. He looked like he was debating whether or not to tell you, but in the end, he gave in with a shrug.

“It’s stupid, really,” he muttered. “But back in fourth year, there was… a girl.”

You blinked. “A girl?”

“Yeah,” he said, glancing at you as if gauging your reaction. “She wasn’t just any girl, either. She was brilliant—top of her class in Charms, wicked on a broomstick, and not afraid to throw a Bat-Bogey Hex at anyone who crossed her. Both Heeseung and I were… interested.”

You stared at him, trying to picture it. Heeseung chasing after someone with the same chaos and cocky charm he always wore like a badge. And Taesan—calm, composed Taesan—competing alongside him? That was a dynamic you hadn’t imagined before.

“So… what happened?” you asked slowly.

“We both tried to win her over,” Taesan explained, his voice laced with the bitterness of old memory. “It got competitive fast. Dumb things. Dueling in secret, trying to outshine each other in class, showing off during Quidditch matches. She didn’t pick either of us in the end.”

You tilted your head, brows furrowed. “Why not?”

“She got expelled,” he said flatly.

Your eyes widened. “Wait—what?”

Taesan nodded, a bit grimly. “Turns out she was experimenting with some really dangerous spells. Things that weren’t exactly legal. Word got out. She was caught with a restricted book and some potion ingredients that she shouldn't have had access to. Boom. Gone. Just like that.”

You sat there in stunned silence, processing that. “And neither of you knew?”

“Not a clue,” Taesan admitted. “We were both so wrapped up in competing, we didn’t even realize what she was up to. After that, everything between me and Heeseung just… soured. It stopped being friendly competition. It turned personal. Real fast.”

You looked over at Heeseung’s table again, at the way he leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head, laughing at something one of his mates said. You never would’ve guessed a story like that lived behind the easy smirks and constant flirting.

“Merlin,” you muttered under your breath.

Taesan gave you a wry smile. “Told you it was stupid.”

“It’s kind of tragic,” you said honestly.

“Yeah, well, so is being stuck tutoring him,” Taesan joked, nudging you with his elbow again. “You’ve got patience. I’ll give you that.”

You huffed, more to yourself than anyone else. Because the more you learned, the less simple Heeseung became. And for someone who liked things to be controlled and straightforward… you had a feeling you were walking right into the storm without even meaning to.

You were mid-grumble, muttering something to Taesan about prideful idiots and hopeless causes when you suddenly felt it—that eerie, unmistakable tingle of someone standing directly behind you. Too close. Too quiet.

Taesan’s eyes flicked up from his plate, a small smile pulling at his lips.

“Oh—Heeseung.”

Wait. What?

Your heart stuttered.

Heeseung was right behind you?

Before you could turn, before you could even react, strong arms wrapped around you from behind, and you were abruptly pulled to your feet with a surprised yelp that got caught in your throat. Your back hit a solid chest—his chest—and before you could squirm away, he had you trapped there, completely engulfed in his arms like this was a normal thing. Like this was something he always did.

“What are you two gossiping about, hmm?” His voice was low, teasing, warm against your ear.

You blinked, stunned, a thousand questions swirling in your head—but your body was locked up, frozen by the sudden contact, by how close he was, by how tight his grip had become around your waist. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t loose. It was possessive. Like he dared you to even think about slipping out of his grasp.

Taesan just chuckled from across the table, completely unbothered. “Nothing much. Just how tragic it is that someone needs tutoring in the first place.”

You could hear the grin in Heeseung’s voice. “Ah, I’m sure you’re both having a lovely little bonding moment over my academic struggles.”

“We were,” Taesan said casually. “Right up until you crashed it.”

You tried to move—just a little. But Heeseung’s arm only tightened, pressing you a fraction closer, like he was trying to make a point.

“Comfortable?” he murmured, eyes probably dancing with amusement.

You finally managed to find your voice, though it came out a bit strangled. “Heeseung. Let go.”

He didn’t. Instead, he dipped his head, speaking just loud enough for you to hear. “You smell like cinnamon.”

You almost choked.

“Heeseung.” You tried again, firmer this time, ignoring the burning in your cheeks.

But he didn’t budge. If anything, his hold on you tightened subtly, his mouth lowering just enough that his breath brushed the shell of your ear.

“You know,” he murmured, voice low and smooth like velvet, “you get this little crease between your eyebrows when you’re annoyed… it’s kind of cute.”

You stiffened.

“And when you blush,” he continued, tilting his head closer until his nose nearly brushed your jaw, “it climbs all the way to your ears. Like right now.”

Your breath hitched—barely, but enough.

Taesan, ever the gentleman—or maybe just wisely pretending not to see anything—went back to his food with a quiet hum, though you noticed the small smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth.

You tried to wriggle free again, but Heeseung was already turning you slightly, his arm sliding around your waist, guiding you like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Come on,” he said softly, lips still far too close to your skin. “You’re too tense. Let's get some air.”

“Heeseung—”

“Shh,” he said, the sound near your ear making your skin erupt in goosebumps. “You’ll thank me.”

And before you could protest again, he was steering you smoothly out of the Great Hall like it was his own personal ballroom and you were a dance partner he’d claimed without asking.

You glanced behind you in disbelief, catching Taesan’s knowing gaze as he lazily chewed on a piece of toast and lifted a subtle eyebrow, like told you so.

Heeseung didn’t stop until you were halfway down a corridor just outside the Hall, where the hum of voices faded behind you and the only sound was the soft echo of your shoes against the stone floor.

“Can you let go now?” you muttered, though your voice wasn’t nearly as sharp as it should’ve been. It came out softer than you intended, too laced with the breathlessness he always seemed to draw out of you—like he knew exactly how to unravel your composure.

He didn’t move at first.

Heeseung just looked at you, head tilted slightly, eyes flicking across your face as if he was reading something only he could see. “No,” he said finally, voice low. “Not yet.”

You blinked. “Why not?”

His grip around your waist loosened, but only so he could trail his fingers along the side of your arm. “Because the second I do, you’re going to run,” he murmured. “And I’m not done messing with you yet.”

You stared at him, heart pounding. “I’m not some game, Heeseung.”

His gaze softened for a fleeting second. “I know.”

Then—just like that—his expression shifted again. That cocky grin returned, sharp and smug. “But I do like the way you play.”

You scoffed, trying to push away from him, but he caught your wrist gently before you could take a step back.

“Relax,” he said. “I’m not dragging you into a dungeon. I just wanted you away from him.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Taesan?”

Heeseung rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Quidditch boy. With the puppy eyes and that little half-smile like he’s the good guy in a tragic romance. Please.”

You gaped at him, stunned. “Are you jealous?”

Heeseung laughed—loud, unbothered, head tipping back just a little as the sound echoed off the stone walls. “Jealous? Trust me, princess,” he said, flashing you a lazy grin, “if I was jealous, you wouldn’t be standing all prim and proper like this.”

Your brows furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He tilted his head slightly, eyes dark with mischief, and in a low, velvety whisper he said, “You know exactly what I mean.”

You stiffened. Your lips parted, but no words came out.

Because Merlin help you, you did know what he meant.

Heeseung’s gaze dragged down the line of your body and then right back up, settling on your mouth for a fraction too long before he smirked again—like he’d just won a game you didn’t know you were playing.

Your heart was thudding in your ears, heat climbing your neck as you instinctively crossed your arms—whether to shield yourself from his gaze or stop yourself from grabbing him by the collar, you weren’t entirely sure.

Damn him. Damn him and his stupid face and his stupid voice and his stupid everything.

You clenched your jaw, staring hard at the empty stretch of corridor ahead of you instead of the very real, very smug boy standing beside you. If you looked at him now—if you met his eyes—you knew you’d lose the last ounce of control you were holding onto by a thread.

“For what reason exactly,” you eventually bit out, “did you drag me out of the Great Hall like some deranged lunatic?”

Heeseung only hummed, hands casually stuffed in his pockets like he hadn’t just manhandled you in front of half the school. “Hmm… good question.”

You turned to him sharply, fully prepared to tear into him again, when he finally moved.

With an exaggerated sigh, he pulled something out of his pocket—a folded parchment, slightly crinkled at the edges—and held it out between two fingers like he was offering you a sweet.

You blinked, hesitated, then snatched it from him, unfolding it with a frown.

Your eyes scanned the page once. Then twice.

It was his most recent Transfiguration assignment. The same one Professor McGonagall had assigned last week. The one you’d spent literal hours preparing him for—between all the teasing, the distractions, and your mounting frustration.

You stared at it in disbelief, lips parting slightly. “You…”

And there it was. In neat, slanted handwriting at the top of the parchment:

Outstanding.

Heeseung leaned against the wall again, smug as ever. “I know. Don’t look so shocked. Hurts my feelings.”

“But you—” You looked back down at the parchment, flipping it over like maybe it was a trick. Like maybe he’d bribed the house elves to forge it. “You barely paid attention. You threw a paper plane across the table, for Merlin’s sake.”

“And still managed to impress McGonagall,” he said, voice lined with pride. “Maybe I just needed the right kind of motivation.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Me threatening to quit tutoring?”

He grinned. “You sitting next to Quidditch boy with the doe eyes.”

You flushed instantly. “It’s not like that.”

“Didn’t say it was,” Heeseung said lightly, pushing off the wall and stepping closer again, chin tilted just slightly as he watched you—like he was trying to read something from your face. “But maybe I didn’t like it.”

You folded the parchment and shoved it back into his chest, scowling at the way your heart thudded. "Idiot."

You had found the perfect form of motivation for Heeseung to actually study and learn.

And that motivation?

Taesan.

It was ridiculous how fast Heeseung would straighten up, stop doodling, and actually focus the second Taesan entered the picture. Just the sight of the other boy sitting beside you, exchanging notes or laughing at something you'd said, was enough to turn Heeseung into the most attentive student Hogwarts had ever seen. Wand out, quill ready, eyes glued to the parchment like he had something to prove. And in a way… he did.

Only downside?

You felt horribly guilty for using Taesan. Not that he minded. In fact, he was thrilled to play along.

"Anything to get under Heeseung’s skin," he'd said with a wink one afternoon, leaning a little closer to you on purpose. "And if I get to spend time with you too? Bonus."

It made you laugh—awkward and a bit flustered—but it worked. Every. Single. Time. Heeseung would visibly bristle, jaw tight, mouth twitching with words he didn’t say. He never said it, but you knew.

Because the second Taesan was gone, the aftermath began with Heeseung.

Cause he suddenly acted like he'd laid a claim on you.

That was the only way you could describe it.

Suddenly he was everywhere—next to you in the corridors, walking you to class even when he had somewhere else to be, sitting close enough during tutoring that your knees brushed under the table. He started calling you his tutor in a tone that left no room for argument. When people passed by and looked too long, he would casually drape an arm over your chair, or mutter something low like, “Should we give them a show?”

You told him to shut up.

You told him to stop.

But you didn’t move away.

And that was the real problem, wasn’t it?

Because you stopped wanting to. And you hated it.

You hated how easily Heeseung got under your skin, how his smirks lingered in your mind long after he was gone, how the scent of his cologne clung to your robe whenever he leaned in too close. You hated that you were supposed to be the composed one—the logical, focused, untouchable one.

But then he’d tilt his head and say something like, “You missed me, didn’t you?” and you’d feel like your entire body betrayed you with one stupid skip of your heart.

It became a pattern. He’d be an asshole in front of Taesan, smug and dramatic, acting like the library was his personal performance stage and you were his muse.

You told yourself it was the game. Just tension from tutoring and competition. Just hormones.

But it didn’t explain the way he looked at you now, the way he acted around you now.

You caught him once, watching you too intently as you explained something. Your words faltered mid-sentence, and his mouth quirked up into something soft, almost fond.

And when he wasn’t throwing smug glances or making comments under his breath that had no right making your face warm, he was staring at you like he wanted to memorize you.

Like he already had.

“What?” you mumbled.

“Nothing,” he said, eyes twinkling. “Just… I don’t think you even realize it, do you?”

“Realize what?”

He just leaned back in his chair and grinned.

“How fun it is to be yours.”

And you swore your heart forgot how to beat.

You actually almost slipped once.

It had been one of those quieter study sessions—no Taesan, no distractions, just the two of you tucked into the corner of the library where no one really went after hours. You had your notes spread out, a well-worn Transfiguration text open between you, and Heeseung was shockingly cooperative that evening.

At least at first.

He was sitting beside you—closer than usual. So close your legs were almost touching beneath the table, and your arms kept brushing whenever you reached for your quill or turned a page. You told yourself it didn’t matter. You told yourself you were used to it by now. You were fine.

But then he leaned in.

You didn’t even notice at first—too busy flipping to the next chapter and scribbling notes—but then his shoulder pressed against yours, and the heat of him was right there, and before you could even blink, he was so close.

You turned to say something—maybe a snarky comment, maybe a reminder to focus—and froze.

He was already looking at you.

Both of your faces were so close, your noses practically brushed. The words caught in your throat, completely useless now as you felt his breath fan across your cheek.

Heeseung inhaled slowly, like even the scent of you was enough to short-circuit his brain.

And then he looked down at your lips.

Your gaze dropped too—without thinking, without meaning to—and Merlin, it was like everything in the room stopped. The flickering candlelight, the soft scratch of parchment from nearby students, even the voice of Madam Pince scolding students.

Nothing moved.

You didn’t move.

And Heeseung?

If he leaned in even half an inch more, you weren’t sure what you’d do.

But your body knew.

And that was what terrified you most.

But as you and Heeseung locked eyes again, that fear that felt so suffocating a moment ago seemed to melt away.

It felt like a slow-moving storm, the kind that doesn’t give you a chance to prepare. You could feel his breath brushing against your skin, the steady rise and fall of his chest as his gaze dropped to your lips once again.

You both leaned in so slow at first that it felt like the longest moment of your life.

Heeseung’s hand moved, fingers brushing against the table, as if he was hesitating, waiting for something, or maybe waiting for you. You didn’t know. All you could focus on was the fact that every inch of space between you was slowly disappearing.

And then, in that instant, your lips almost touched—just the smallest gap left between you, the air thick with tension, and you could’ve sworn you heard your own heart pounding in your ears.

"Stop," you whispered.

The word didn’t even sound like it came from your mouth. It was too quiet, too shaky, too unconvincing.

Heeseung’s lips quirked into that familiar, maddening grin, though it was different now—softer.

“You don’t really want me to stop,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, yet the tone sent a shiver down your spine.

You agreed with him breathlessly, the words slipping out before you even realized you’d said them. “No... I don’t.”

The moment you agreed, his hand, which had been lingering beside you, slowly slid to the back of your neck, fingers brushing against your skin with just the right amount of pressure. You inhaled sharply as he gently cupped the nape of your neck, his thumb tracing circles that made your skin prickle.

Before you could think, he closed the distance between you, his lips pressed softly against yours. It was almost like he was claiming you, but there was something tender in the way he moved, as if he was savoring the moment. Like he was savoring you.

You couldn’t pull away. Not that you wanted to. Everything in you was telling you to let go, to lean into it, and so you did. You let yourself fall into the kiss, hands trembling as they reached for him—one resting against his chest, the other finding its way into his hair.

Heeseung’s other hand slipped around to your back, pulling you closer until there was no space between you at all. Your breath mingled with his, shallow and fast, and the kiss deepened, the world narrowing down to just the two of you. You were losing yourself to him. The way he tasted, the way he moved, the way his body fit so perfectly against yours.

You clung to him, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt, as if you needed him to ground you. Every little touch, every movement, felt like it was pulling you deeper into the moment, and you couldn’t fight it, not anymore. Heeseung’s groan escaped quietly, his body slightly tensing as he responded to your touch.

He paused for a split second, pulling away just enough to catch his breath. His gaze was dark, almost like he was fighting with himself, but he didn’t let go of you.

His lips ghosted over your cheek, just a gentle caress, and then he whispered, “You’re making this harder than it needs to be…”

You could only nod slightly, too lost in the sensation of him against you to form coherent words. It felt so... right in a way you hadn’t expected.

Heeseung’s hand rested on your waist, a steady pressure that kept you close, yet he wasn’t pushing any further. And then, as if he had suddenly realized how dangerously close you both were to crossing a line, he leaned back slightly.

“Maybe we should... slow down,” he murmured, eyes never leaving yours, though his voice was still thick, like he wasn’t completely ready to let go of this moment either.

You shook your head, the words barely leaving your lips before you found yourself closing the distance again, your mouth finding his in a fierce kiss.

“No,” you mumbled against his lips, your voice breathless, almost desperate.

Heeseung let out a low, frustrated curse, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he kissed you back with a force that made your knees weak. His hands roamed, pulling you even closer, as if he couldn’t get enough of the closeness either. His lips were insistent, hungry, and you responded in kind, losing yourself again.

Everything about this felt like a blur. The way his body pressed against yours, the heat between you two, the quiet noises of your breath and his mixed together. There was nothing but him and the way he made you feel, like you could finally let go of all the tension that had built up between you.

But just as quickly as it had started, Heeseung slowed the kiss, pulling back just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours as both of you tried to regain some composure.

“You’re trouble,” he muttered, still catching his breath, a small, amused smirk tugging at his lips.

You agreed with him dazed, your voice barely a whisper. “I know.”

It wasn’t a lie. You were trouble. You wanted trouble. And right now, you didn’t want to fight it. You were a woman of control, always calculating, always careful. But at that moment, you wanted to lose that control. You wanted him to take it. Heeseung had a way of making everything else feel insignificant—like all the careful walls you’d built around yourself were nothing compared to the pull of his presence.

And when you felt his hand slip to your waist, pulling you even closer, his lips pressing to your neck, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t want to fight it anymore. You needed him to take control.

His lips trailed down the curve of your neck, and you couldn’t help but shiver, your breath hitching as he kissed the sensitive skin there. You could feel his smirk against your skin as if he knew exactly what he was doing, how much power he held in this moment.

"Isn’t it fun letting everything go," he murmured against your skin, his words making your pulse quicken. You barely registered that he’d stopped speaking before he pulled you into another kiss.

The warmth of his body pressed into yours as his hands slid down to your hips, fingers brushing lightly before tightening as he pulled you even closer. He was taking control, and every part of you responded to it, eager, willing.

Heeseung’s kisses became more deliberate, teasing, as he moved his lips lower, his hands guiding you effortlessly, making you forget everything but the sensation of him. You felt like you were falling, and you didn’t want to stop.

“You’re going to make me lose my mind,” you murmured, barely keeping it together.

Heeseung only chuckled, a dark, teasing sound that sent another wave of heat through you. "That’s the plan," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear before he kissed the sensitive spot just below it.

It was too much and not enough all at once. You could feel your heart racing, your breath uneven. Heeseung wasn’t just teasing anymore—he was making sure you didn’t have a single ounce of control left to cling to.

And, strangely enough, you didn’t want it back.

Heeseung's lips never left your skin, trailing slow, teasing kisses down your neck as his hands explored the curve of your waist, pulling you tighter against him. He wasn’t in a rush. No, he was savoring every second, every shiver that passed through you. His breath against your skin made you tremble, but his words did something entirely different.

"You’re such a good tutor," he whispered, voice low and laced with amusement. "Kept up with me so well. But I have to say, it’s funny how easy it is to make you crumble."

You felt the heat in your cheeks spread, your pulse quickening, but you couldn’t decide if it was from embarrassment or desire. His words were like a cruel taunt, yet they stirred something in you, something that was both humbling and arousing. You wanted to hide from the way he made you feel, but at the same time, the compliments mixed with his teasing sent a rush through your body that was impossible to ignore.

He kissed along the edge of your jaw, his lips brushing against your skin with deliberate slowness. "You're good at pretending to be in control," he continued, his voice turning darker. "But I can see it, can feel it... how easily you let go when I touch you, like a little defenseless kitty."

You clenched your fists at your sides, trying to maintain your composure, but it was getting harder to hide the way your body betrayed you. The way your breath hitched when he whispered those words, how his touch made your thoughts scatter. You wanted to tell him to stop, to pull away but the way he made you feel… it was like nothing else mattered anymore.

And then, as if he could sense your internal struggle, he pulled back just slightly, eyes dark, smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “You know, it’s cute when you try to pretend you’re not enjoying this,” he teased, voice low, almost a growl. “But I think we both know better.”

You couldn't meet his gaze. You couldn’t even bring yourself to speak, feeling too exposed, too vulnerable, too lost in the way he had turned your emotions inside out.

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the heat of the moment swallow you whole. Heeseung had this uncanny ability to unravel you, to make you forget everything you had ever tried to control. He was playing with you, juggling your emotions with a skill that left you confused, unsure of where you stood, but completely under his spell.

Heeseung’s smirk only widened as he noticed the way you struggled to hold your ground. His hand slid lower, just enough to make you tense, his thumb brushing the curve of your waist in a way that made your breath catch.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You’ve been pretending all this time, haven’t you?”

He leaned in closer, his lips grazing your ear, sending a shiver down your spine as he whispered, “You think you can handle me, don’t you? But you’re already cracking. You’re already letting me win.”

Heeseung’s hands were everywhere now—one still at your waist, the other now threading through your hair, tilting your head back as if he owned you. His lips brushed against your neck, and his teeth nipped at your skin, causing you to gasp.

"Don’t act like you don’t like it," he whispered, low and threatening. "You think I can’t see it? How easily I can make you forget all that control you love so much." His grip on you tightened, holding you in place as he added, “You thought you had everything under control, huh? But you’re nothing but a perfect little puppet on a string."

You felt the sting of his words, sharp and cutting but there was something about it that made you flush even more. Something about the way he made you feel both degraded and desired at the same time.

"You’re so good at pretending, but you can’t hide from me," he murmured, his voice dripping with fake sugary honey. "I see the way you need me. How badly you want me to break you down, make you lose control. I’ll take my time with you, though. Make you beg for it.”

His words were cruel, but the way he said them, the way his fingers gripped your jaw to force you to look at him, made it clear that he wasn’t going to stop until he had you exactly where he wanted.

And despite the warning bells ringing in your mind, part of you couldn’t help but lean into him, your body betraying you even as you tried to hold on to your last shred of control.

You hated chaos. You hated messy. You hated unpredictability and recklessness.

You thrived on control, on order, on being able to predict every outcome, to mold everything to fit into neat little categories.

But when it was all smashed together in a person, when it was him, something you couldn’t tame, something you couldn’t figure out no matter how much you tried?

Oh, how you loved it so much.

It was maddening, infuriating, and yet... addicting.

Heeseung was everything you hated. He was unpredictable. He was reckless, and he didn’t care who saw it. He didn’t care what anyone thought, least of all you. And it drove you insane. It made your blood boil, but it also made your heart race in ways you couldn’t explain.

With every teasing word, every touch, every taunt, he peeled away at your control until there was nothing left but the raw need that had taken root deep within you. He made you ache in a way that was both pleasurable and frustrating, like being trapped in a whirlwind that you couldn’t escape but didn’t want to.

You couldn’t help but crave him—crave the chaos he brought, even though it scared the hell out of you. The way he made you feel alive in a way that no amount of control or precision ever could.

You didn’t want to be in control anymore.

You wanted him.

Because as much as you hated chaos, it felt so damn good when it was with him.

You wanted the chaos he offered, the unpredictability of him. Because, somehow, with him you were starting to find pieces of yourself you didn’t even know you’d lost somewhere along the way. And for once, you didn’t care.

a/n: oh yeah baby. i am ready for this man.

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[elikajinnie]

How i feel trying to finish the Slytherin!Heeseung request but he`s too hot

[elikajinnie]

as always.. ADY COMING IN HOOOOOOOOOOTTT!

right next door!

pairing: enemy!sunghoon x reader

synopsis: you and park sunghoon have been tangled in hogwarts' most explosive rivalry since fifth year—all duels in corridors and sabotaged potions and lingering stares across the great hall. now in your last year, you're forced to share prefect duties, and between his infuriating teasing and surprisingly caring moments, you can't decide if you want to hex him or kiss him. but when old wounds resurface and the line between rivalry and something else blurs, you'll have to confront why his attention still makes your pulse race—and whether some bridges are better left burned.

genre: hogwarts au, ex friends to enemies to lovers, forced proximity

warnings: highly suggestive content!!, a steamy pool scene, sunghoon gets called an exhibtionist as a joke, mentions of blood status, jealousy, swearing, lots of hogwarts lore references, angst

note: lowkey got inspired to write this after reading deadly education but ended up making it spicy lol. also i haven't specifically mentioned which hogwarts houses the reader and hoon are in since you guys must be different houses so yeah. enjoyyy

word count: 8.1k

If you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3 | taglist

the parchment trembled slightly in your grip, the edges crinkling under your fingertips as you stared at the freshly inked letters spelling out your name beside the words girl prefect. your breath caught—just for a second—before a giddy warmth spread through your chest. you could’ve sworn your feet barely grazed the stone floor as you made your way to the front of the classroom.

this was it.

all those late nights hunched over textbooks in the library until your eyes burned. every extra credit assignment you’d taken on, every house point you’d fought for. the way you’d practiced spells until your wrists ached, all for this moment—the recognition you’d craved, the proof that your effort hadn’t gone unnoticed.

then the head of house cleared their throat.

“—and your fellow prefect will be park sunghoon.”

the air left your lungs in one sharp exhale.

your head whipped toward him instinctively, muscle memory from years of tracking his movements, and just like always—just like always—he was already looking at you. his lips twitched, not quite a smirk but something dangerously close, his dark eyes alight with amusement.

of course.

of course it had to be him. the universe had a cruel sense of humor.

the head of house folded their hands atop the desk, surveying the two of you with the weary patience of someone who had long since grown tired of your antics. “i trust,” they said slowly, “that this appointment will encourage you both to set aside your… differences and act with the decorum expected of prefects.” their gaze flicked between you, pointed. “no duels in the corridors. no jinxes in the common room. and for merlin’s sake, no more sabotaging each other’s potions.”

sunghoon’s expression was the picture of innocence. “i would never.”

you barely suppressed a scoff. liar.

the moment you were dismissed, you spun on your heel, determined to escape before he could so much as open his mouth. but sunghoon, with his long legs caught up and fell into step beside you with infuriating ease, his shoulder brushing yours just enough to make you stiffen.

“looks like we’re stuck with each other, sweetheart,” he mused, voice dripping with false sweetness.

you clenched your jaw. “don’t call me that.”

“what, would you prefer partner?” he grinned when you shot him a glare, the torchlight catching the sharp curve of his cheekbones. 

“oh, come on. admit it—you’re thrilled. all those patrols together, just you and me.” he leaned in just slightly, and you hated the way your pulse jumped. “bet you’ve been dreaming about it.”

“dreaming of hexing you into next week, maybe.”

he laughed, low and taunting, and you hated the way it sent a prickle down your spine—the way it still did, even after all this time. “you’d miss me too much.”

“in your dreams, park.”

“already there.” he winked.

you stopped short, turning to face him fully. the corridor was empty save for the two of you, the flickering torchlight casting shadows across his sharp features that made him look almost otherworldly. 

“listen,” you hissed, “just because we’re prefects now doesn’t mean i’ve forgotten what you did last term. or the term before that. or—”

“you’re really holding onto that?” he tilted his head, feigning thoughtfulness, but you didn’t miss the way his fingers twitched at his side—like he was stopping himself from reaching for something. 

“i’d say it’s flattering, but it’s starting to sound like an obsession.”

your fingers twitched toward your wand. “i swear, if you don’t—”

“ah-ah.” he tutted, nodding pointedly to the enchanted portraits lining the walls—several of whom had paused their conversations to watch the spectacle. “decorum, remember?” his voice dropped, just for you. “wouldn’t want to disappoint the head of house on our first day.”

you forced your hand to relax, but the fire in your chest refused to die. this wasn’t just about rivalry. this was about the way he’d looked right through you fifth year, like you were nothing. like you’d never been anything.

“this isn’t over,” you muttered.

sunghoon’s smile widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “oh, i’m counting on it.”

and with that, he strolled past you, robes swishing behind him like a victory banner. you stared after him, torn between the urge to scream and the sinking realisation that this year was going to be very long.

but if he thought for one second you’d let him win?

he had another thing coming.

you should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy.

the moment you stepped into the prefects’ wing, the air itself seemed to thicken, pressing against your skin like a warning. this part of the common room was unnervingly quiet—separated from the usual chaos by an ornate archway woven with enchanted ivy that shivered as you passed. two doors faced each other in the dim torchlight, close enough that you could’ve stretched out your arms and touched both at once.

yours. and—

“no.”

sunghoon’s voice curled around you from behind, rich with amusement. “yes.”

you didn’t need to turn to see his expression—you knew it by heart. that lazy, lopsided grin, the way his eyes would crinkle at the corners just before he delivered some infuriating remark. your fingers twitched toward your wand, but you clenched them into fists instead, nails biting crescents into your palms.

the door in front of you seemed to taunt you with its very existence.

“this is a joke,” you muttered.

“a hilarious one,” he agreed, brushing past so close his sleeve whispered against yours. he leaned against his doorframe with practiced ease, the flickering torchlight carving shadows under his cheekbones, gilding the curve of his smirk. 

“aw, don’t look so heartbroken, princess. could’ve been worse,” his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, “you could’ve been stuck next to someone boring.”

you shot him a look that could’ve melted steel. “right. because you’re a delight.”

he pressed a hand to his chest—the same way he used to when you’d accuse him of cheating at exploding snap—and the familiarity of the gesture lodged like a splinter in your throat. “i’m wounded. after all these years, you still don’t appreciate my charm?”

“your charm,” you spat, the words tumbling out raw and unfiltered, “is what got us here in the first place.”

the silence that followed was deafening.

for one fractured second, his mask slipped—just enough for you to catch the flicker in his eyes, the barely-there tightening of his jaw. but it was gone before you could name it, smoothed over with a careless shrug that didn’t match the sudden tension in his shoulders.

you remembered when those shoulders had carried your unconscious first-year self to the hospital wing after your disastrous attempt at flying. remembered how they'd shaken with silent laughter during history of magic when you'd charmed his quill to draw rude pictures on his parchment. remembered most painfully how they'd turned away from you in fifth year, when he'd started sitting with them—the polished, pureblooded group who whispered about blood status in the corridors.

it had started small. skipped study sessions. forgotten inside jokes. then one day you'd walked into the great hall to find your usual seat by the window—your seat, the one he'd saved for you every morning since first year—occupied by some simpering girl from his new circle.

when you'd cornered him after potions, demanding to know what his problem was, he'd just shrugged. "people change." like it was that simple. like four years of friendship meant nothing.

so you'd made sure he remembered.

if he wanted to pretend you didn't exist, you'd force him to notice you. you charmed his robes neon pink during presentations. swapped his pumpkin juice with vinegar. turned all his quills into snakes during arithmancy. each prank was a scream into the void: look at me, see me, remember what you threw away.

now, standing in the dimly lit corridor, the weight of those memories pressed between you like a third presence. sunghoon recovered faster than you did, his smirk sliding back into place with practiced ease.

"still holding onto ancient history, i see," he mused, pushing off the doorframe to take a step closer. the movement brought him into your space, close enough that you caught the faint scent of cedar and ink that still haunted your dreams. "what's next? you gonna charm my shoes to stick to the floor like third year? or—"

"that was you," you interrupted, your voice sharper than you intended. the accusation hung between you, trembling with the weight of everything unsaid. you did this first. you started this war.

his eyebrow quirked. "and you turned all my quills into snakes during arithmancy."

"after you vanished my potions textbook the week before NEWTs!"

"allegedly."

"you left my handwriting on a fake love note to flitwick in the margins!"

he grinned, wide and unrepentant, and it was so familiar that your chest ached. "allegedly."

you turned back to your door before he could see how his smile still affected you, how your traitorous heart still stuttered at the sight. but sunghoon, ever relentless, wasn't finished.

"you know," he said, his voice dropping into something softer, more intimate—the tone he used to reserve for midnight confessions and hidden corners, "if you wanted my attention this badly, you could've just asked."

your hand froze on the doorknob.

for one suspended heartbeat, the air between you crackled with the ghost of what you'd once been—two halves of a reckless, unbreakable whole. you could almost feel the warmth of his shoulder pressed against yours in the library, the way he'd whisper jokes into your ear until you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

then reality came crashing back.

"keep dreaming, park," you scoffed, shoving the door open with more force than necessary.

his laughter followed you inside, warm and melodic and wrong—because it wasn't yours to keep anymore. "already do," he called after you.

you slammed the door behind you, pressing your back against it as if it could shield you from the way your pulse raced, from the way your eyes burned with something dangerously close to tears. outside, you heard his footsteps pause, followed by the sound of his door gently slamming shut

your chest ached.

this year was going to be hell.

it becomes a thing after that.

you start bumping into sunghoon at the worst possible times—as if the universe has decided your suffering is its favourite spectator sport. like when you drag yourself into the hallway at 2 am, bleary-eyed and half-dead from studying, your vision swimming from hours of staring at ancient runes, only to collide with something warm and solid.

"oof—"

the scent hits you first—cedar and something faintly sweet, like the peppermint candies he always used to sneak during classes. your sleep-addled brain recognizes it before your eyes do, and your stomach does a traitorous little flip.

sunghoon steadies you with hands on your shoulders, his own hair sticking up in three different directions, dark strands falling into his eyes. he's wearing what might be the most ridiculous sleepwear you've ever seen—flannel pants with little animated broomsticks that actually move, hanging low on his hips, and a threadbare quidditch jersey that's definitely two sizes too big, slipping off one shoulder to reveal a sliver of collarbone.

you blink.

he blinks back.

for one horrifying second, you're both frozen there in the dim torchlight, his fingers warm through the thin fabric of your oversized hoodie (the one with the cartoon snitch that says "catch me if you can"—a gift from your friend jungwon that you'd never admit to owning).

then his gaze drops to your feet.

and he snorts.

"please tell me those were a gift," he says, pointing at your slippers—fluffy monstrosities shaped like kneazles, complete with little ears that flop when you shift your weight. one ear has started to curl inward from wear. "tell me you didn't willingly purchase those."

you flip him off, shuffling past with as much dignity as you can muster when your slippers make a soft mrrp noise against the stone floor.

"they're warm," you mutter.

"they're embarrassing."

"says the guy wearing pyjamas with his dancing broomsticks on them."

you don't even have to look back to know he's grinning. you can hear it in his voice. "you noticed? i'm flattered."

your cheeks burn. damn him.

he starts stealing your favourite study spot, too.

the one by the window in the common room—the table with the perfect view of the lake, where the afternoon light turns the water to liquid gold and the old oak table bears the carved initials you'd put there fourth year (SH + Y/N, hidden under the edge where only you'd know to look). you've claimed it for years, and everyone knows it.

which is exactly why sunghoon's sitting there when you walk in one evening, already sprawled across the bench like he owns it, twirling his wand between his fingers with lazy precision. the dying sunlight catches on the silver rings he always wears, making them gleam.

you stop dead.

"wow," you deadpan. "you work fast."

he doesn't even glance up from his parchment, but you see the way his lips quirk. "what can i say? early bird gets the view." he finally looks up, and the smirk he gives you is all sharp edges and challenge. "maybe you should try being less predictable."

you consider setting his notes on fire.

instead, you take the table next to his—the wobbly one that always tilts your inkwell—and pointedly ignore the way his knee brushes yours under the table when he stretches.

(he definitely does it on purpose.)

(you definitely don't think about how his legs have gotten longer since fifth year.)

but the worst is the patrols.

being forced to walk the castle's quiet, echoing corridors together—where every footstep sounds too loud, every breath feels too close. 

tonight, he's holding his wand aloft like some kind of dramatic victorian ghost hunter, the lumos glow casting long shadows across his sharp cheekbones, catching on the silver hoop in his left ear.

you roll your eyes. "bit dramatic, don't you think?"

"sorry for not having bat vision like you."

"maybe if you didn't spend all your time preening in mirrors—"

you don't even see the uneven step.

one second, you're scoffing at him—the next, your foot catches on a raised stone, and you're lurching forward with a startled gasp, your wand flying from your grip.

but before you can faceplant into the cold stone floor, his hand shoots out, gripping your elbow and yanking you back upright with surprising gentleness. your chest collides with his, and for one terrifying, electric second, you're right there—close enough to see the flecks of silver in his dark eyes, close enough to count his eyelashes, close enough to feel his breath hitch against your lips.

neither of you moves.

his fingers are still wrapped around your arm, warm and firm, and you hate how familiar it feels. how right. how easy it would be to lean in, to—

then he clears his throat and lets go like you've burned him, taking a deliberate step back.

"watch your step," he mutters, already turning away to gather your scattered notes.

you don't miss the way his jaw clenches, the way his fingers tremble just slightly as he hands your wand back.

the rest of the patrol is silent, but everything left unsaid makes the air between you suffocating.

you pushed open the heavy oak door to the prefects’ bathroom, steam curling around your ankles as you stepped inside. the massive sunken tub glimmered under floating enchanted candles, their reflections dancing across the marble walls. and it seems that no other prefect from the other houses were here.

perfect—just what you needed after a gruelling day of school.

then you heard the water splash.

sunghoon stood waist-deep in the pool, his back to you as he peeled off his soaked white t-shirt. water sluiced down the defined muscles of his shoulders, tracing the elegant dip of his spine before disappearing beneath the waterline. the dim candlelight gilded every curve of his toned arms as he tossed the shirt aside with a wet smack against the tiles.

your brain short-circuited.

he turned at the sound of your choked gasp, water dripping from his dark hair. for one horrifying second, his eyes locked onto yours—wide, startled—before his lips curled into that infuriating smirk.

"enjoying the view, sweetheart?"

you whirled around so fast you nearly tripped over your own robes. "this is a shared space, you—you exhibitionist!"

his laugh echoed off the marble. "shared, yes. which means knocking is customary." you could hear the grin in his voice. "unless you were hoping to catch me like this?"

"i'd rather catch dragon pox!" you fumbled for the door handle, cheeks burning.

"liar," he called after you. the splash of water told you he'd leaned back, completely at ease. "you stared for a solid five seconds."

you slammed the door hard enough to rattle the torches in their sconces.

…

"five seconds?" sunoo nearly spat out his pumpkin juice, eyes sparkling with mischief. across the table, jungwon choked on a laugh, thumping his chest.

you stabbed your fork into a roasted potato with unnecessary force. "i did not stare."

"sure," jungwon drawled, stealing a roll from your plate. "and i'm the minister of magic."

sunoo leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "you two need to either fuck or duel already. the sexual tension is giving me hives."

"sunoo!" you kicked him under the table, but your traitorous gaze flickered across the hall before you could stop it.

sunghoon sat with his usual group, idly stirring his soup. as if sensing your stare, he glanced up—and winked. the bastard had the audacity to mouth "five seconds" before his friends noticed and started elbowing him.

you dropped your forehead onto the table with a groan.

you should’ve known the universe had it out for you.

the thought pounded in time with your footsteps as you stomped toward the forbidden forest, the cold night air biting at your exposed skin. 

of course this would happen on the one night you actually planned to sleep before dawn. 

of course it was a group of reckless first-years from your house who decided to wander off here. 

and of course—because fate had never once been kind to you—sunghoon was the one marching beside you, his shoulder brushing yours every few steps like some cruel reminder of how things used to be.

"this is your fault," you muttered, more out of habit than anything else.

his sigh was barely audible over the crunch of leaves underfoot. "how, exactly?"

"you gave them detention for the dungbomb incident. this is clearly revenge."

"ah yes, because children are famously logical creatures who plan elaborate revenge schemes." his voice dripped with sarcasm, but there was no real heat behind it. just exhaustion. it threw you off—this version of sunghoon who didn't rise to your bait like he used to.

you risked a glance at his profile in the moonlight. the sharp line of his jaw was tense, his brows drawn together in that way they always got when he was thinking too hard. you hated that you still noticed these things. hated that after all this time, you could still read him like a book you'd memorised but pretended not to care about.

the forest loomed ahead, darker than the sky around it. a shiver ran down your spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

"we'll split up," you said abruptly. "cover more ground."

"no." the word came out sharp, surprising you both. he cleared his throat. "it's... not safe. we stick together."

there was something in his voice you couldn't place—something that made your chest ache in a way you refused to examine. so you just nodded, stepping into the treeline beside him, close enough that your sleeves brushed. neither of you moved away.

the forest was wrong tonight.

usually alive with rustling leaves and distant animal calls, now it was eerily silent, like the trees themselves were holding their breath. your own breathing sounded too loud in your ears, your heartbeat pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs.

"this is stupid," you muttered, just to break the silence. "what kind of idiots think wandering into the murder forest at midnight is a good idea?"

next to you, sunghoon huffed a quiet laugh. "the same kind that think turning their rival's hair pink right before a quidditch match is a solid life choice."

the unexpected callback to simpler times caught you off guard. warmth bloomed in your chest before you could stop it, quickly smothered by years of built-up resentment.

"that was one time—"

"and the time you swapped my pumpkin juice with vinegar—"

"you deserved that—"

"and the time you definitely stared at me in the prefect's bathroom for five full seconds—"

something inside you snapped.

"oh my god, are you serious right now?" you whirled on him so fast he actually took a step back. your wandlight threw wild shadows across his face, illuminating the startled widening of his eyes. "you're really gonna act like i started all this? like you weren't the one who—"

your voice cracked traitorously. you hated it. hated the way his expression shifted from amused to concerned in an instant. hated how your eyes suddenly burned with unshed tears.

sunghoon went completely still. "who what?" he asked quietly.

the words tore out of you like a dam breaking:

"who ditched me the second you found a shinier group of friends!"

the silence that followed was deafening.

sunghoon looked like you'd struck him. his mouth opened, closed. for the first time since you'd known him, park sunghoon seemed at a complete loss for words.

you didn't wait for him to find them. turning on your heel, you stormed deeper into the forest, your pulse roaring in your ears. you made it three steps before you heard him move behind you—quick, urgent footsteps—and then his hand was wrapping around your wrist, pulling you to a stop.

"wait—"

a shrill voice cut through the trees before he could continue.

"oh thank merlin!"

the first-years.

sunghoon's grip loosened immediately, but his fingers lingered for half a second longer than necessary before falling away. the ghost of his touch burned long after he'd turned toward the sound.

the walk back was torture.

the kids shuffled ahead of you, sniffling and covered in mud and leaves, while you and sunghoon trailed behind in suffocating silence. your mind raced, replaying the moment over and over—the look on his face when you said those words, the way his hand felt around your wrist.

at one point, he moved closer, his shoulder brushing yours. "we should—" he started, voice low.

you sped up, pretending to adjust the scarf of a trembling first-year. you didn’t wand to do this now.

by the time you reached the common room, your jaw ached from clenching it. you handed out detentions on autopilot ("no, you cannot serve it together, yes, you're lucky we're not telling the head of house"), your voice sounding distant even to your own ears.

the second the kids scurried off, you bolted for your room, desperate for space to breathe, to think—

—only for a hand to catch the door before you could slam it shut.

suddenly, you were being yanked into his room.

"what the hell—"

"i didn't ditch you."

his voice was rough, raw in a way you'd never heard before. his grip on your wrist was tight enough that you could feel his pulse racing against your skin—or maybe that was yours. you were too overwhelmed to tell.

you glared up at him, chest heaving. "oh, really? because i remember you ghosting me for months—"

"my parents made me."

the words burst out of him like he'd been holding them in for years. he released your wrist to rake a hand through his hair, pacing the small space between his bed and the door like a caged animal.

"they—merlin, they lost it when they found out i was friends with a muggle-born," he continued, voice cracking on the last word. "threatened to pull me out of hogwarts. i had to—" he stopped, swallowed hard. "i had to pretend. until i could figure something out."

the confession hit you like a bludger to the chest. all the air left your lungs at once.

memories flooded back—sunghoon's sudden distance fifth year, the way he'd flinch whenever his new friends made comments about blood status, the times you'd caught him looking at you across the great hall with an expression you couldn't decipher.

"you could've told me," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

he shook his head, eyes shining in the dim light. "I couldn't. you would've tried to fix it. you would've—" his voice broke. "you would've gotten yourself hurt."

the raw honesty in his words stole your breath. for years, you'd assumed the worst; that he'd outgrown you, that you weren't enough. but this... this was something else entirely.

the air between you was heavy with everything unsaid. you could see the exact moment he realised how close you were standing, because his breath hitched, his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.

"...i'm sorry," he murmured, so quiet you almost missed it.

the words settled over you like a warm cloak. not perfect. not a complete fix. but a start.

"me too," you whispered back.

when you slipped out of his room and back into yours, the weight on your chest felt a little lighter.

neither of you slept that night. you lay awake staring at the ceiling, replaying every word, every look. wondering if this changed everything—or nothing at all.

you woke with a start, your cheek pressed against a half-open textbook. sunlight streamed through the common room windows—you’d fallen asleep at your usual table with the view ofthe lake, the one sunghoon had stolen so often. your neck ached, and there was drool on your parchment.

a shadow fell across your notes.

"rough night?"

sunghoon stood over you, holding two steaming mugs. he looked unfairly put-together for someone who’d also presumably gotten no sleep—his hair slightly damp from a shower, his prefect badge already pinned neatly to his robes.

you sat up too fast, your elbow knocking into an inkwell. "what are you—"

"coffee." he set one mug down in front of you, black with three sugars, just how you liked it. "figured you’d need it."

you stared at the mug like it might transform into a dungbomb. this was new. this was terrifying.

across the room, a group of fourth-years whispered behind their hands.

sunghoon cleared his throat. "patrols tonight. meet at eight?"

"yeah," you managed. "eight."

he nodded, already turning away—then paused. "oh, and y/n?"

"what?"

"you’ve got…" he gestured to his own cheek, mirroring where your face had been smushed against your notes. "ink."

you swiped at your face furiously as he walked off, but not before catching the way his shoulders shook with silent laughter.

the whispers started the moment you walked in together to the dining hall.

it wasn’t intentional—you’d just happened to leave the common room at the same time, and sunghoon had held the door open for you like some kind of gentleman, and now the your entire table was gaping.

"what the hell happened last night?" sunoo demanded as you slid onto the bench. next to him, jungwon’s eyebrows were in his hairline.

"nothing," you muttered, reaching for the toast.

"nothing?" jungwon leaned in. "he’s been staring at you since you sat down."

your head snapped up. sure enough, sunghoon was watching you from across the hall, chin propped on his hand. when he caught your eye, he smirked and took an exaggerated sip from his mug—the same one he’d brought you earlier.

you kicked sunoo under the table when he opened his mouth. "don’t."

meanwhile, at the slytherin table, sunghoon’s so-called friends weren’t even pretending not to stare. one of them—a tall guy with a permanent sneer—said something under his breath. sunghoon’s response was too quiet to hear, but the way his friend’s face paled was very satisfying.

you found out what he’d said to them later, when you passed them in the corridor.

"—thought you were done with that," sneer-boy was hissing, just around the corner from where you’d frozen mid-step.

"changed my mind," sunghoon’s voice was calm, but there was steel underneath. "got a problem with it?"

"she’s a muggle-born—"

"finish that sentence," sunghoon said, so quietly it was almost a whisper, "and i’ll hex you into next week."

silence.

you ducked into an alcove before they could see you, your heart pounding. when sunghoon walked past minutes later, alone, he paused—like he could sense you there.

"you can come out now," he called, amused. "unless you’re planning to ambush me again. which, fair."

you stepped out, cheeks burning. "i wasn’t eavesdropping—"

"liar." he fell into step beside you like it was the most natural thing in the world. "but since you heard all that…" he bumped your shoulder with his. "you’re welcome."

you bumped him back, harder. "idiot."

he grinned.

things changed after that.

sunghoon stopped stealing your study spot—instead, he’d join you there, sprawling across the bench like he owned it. you stopped hexing his belongings—mostly. (some traditions had to stay alive.)

his old friends glowered at you in the halls. yours teased you mercilessly.

and when you had patrols together, the silence wasn’t suffocating anymore—just quiet, comfortable.

(though he did still tease you about the bathroom incident. some things would never change.)

the moment the first raindrop hit your nose, you knew this trip was doomed. 

you'd been assigned to chaperone a group of first-years on their first hogsmeade visit, with sunghoon as your unfortunate co-supervisor—because apparently the universe still hadn't finished laughing at you. the kids had dragged you from honeydukes to zonko's, their excitement barely contained as they pressed against every shop window. 

sunghoon lingered at the back of the group, hands in his pockets, occasionally shooting you glances you couldn't quite decipher.

then the sky opened up without warning. one second you were counting heads near the post office, the next icy rain was pelting down in sheets, sending students scattering in every direction. 

"in here!" sunghoon's voice cut through the chaos as his fingers closed around your wrist. you didn't process where he was pulling you until the bell above the door tinkled and the overwhelming scent of floral perfume hit you.

madam puddifoot's. the most notoriously romantic tea shop in the village, all lace doilies and floating cherubs and couples canoodling in heart-shaped booths. 

"we are not—" you began, already backpedalling, but it was too late. the first-years had already stampeded inside, their squeals of delight echoing off the pink walls.

sunghoon stepped in behind you, his chest brushing your shoulder as he shook rainwater from his hair. "well. this is cozy." 

you shot him a glare that could melt steel. 

"i'd rather swim back to the castle." 

the elderly witch behind the counter beamed at your bedraggled group. "young love! how precious!" 

"we're not—" 

"just chaperones," sunghoon finished smoothly, though the smirk playing at his lips ruined any attempt at innocence.

the next twenty minutes passed in a haze of humiliation. the first-years were seated at a large table near the back, leaving you and sunghoon wedged into a tiny booth for two—one adorned with actual cupid statues that periodically blew glitter into the air. your face burned as a cherub floated by dumping rose petals on unsuspecting patrons. 

across from you, sunghoon looked unbearably amused, stirring his tea with infuriating calm.

"you're enjoying this," you accused, watching as he added a third sugar cube to his cup. 

he raised an eyebrow. "the tea's decent." 

"i meant the utter humiliation of this situation." 

the corner of his mouth twitched. "that too."

a sudden commotion at the first-years' table saved you from responding. one of the girls was pointing between you two with alarming enthusiasm. "are you going to kiss?" 

your teacup clattered against its saucer. sunghoon choked on his sip. 

"we are not—" 

"not in front of you lot," sunghoon interrupted solemnly, sending the table into giggles. 

you kicked him under the table hard enough to make him wince. "you're dead to me."

the rain showed no signs of letting up, trapping you in this pastel nightmare. as minutes ticked by, you became increasingly aware of every accidental brush of sunghoon's knee against yours, every time his fingers grazed yours reaching for the sugar bowl. the shop's enchanted ceiling—currently mimicking a sunset—cast warm light across his features, softening the sharp angles of his face in a way that made your chest feel oddly tight.

at one point, you caught him staring at you with an expression you couldn't quite place—something between amusement and that same unreadable look he'd worn in the forest after your argument. 

"what?" you muttered, self-consciously wiping at your face. 

he leaned forward slightly, voice dropping so only you could hear. "just wondering how long it'll take you to admit this isn't so bad."

before you could retort, a chorus of "ooooooh!" erupted from the first-years' table. you looked down to realise sunghoon's hand was still covering yours on the tabletop—when had that happened? 

you jerked back as if burned, sending a saucer clattering to the floor. the resulting cheers from the children made you want to disappear into the upholstery.

by the time the rain eased, your dignity was beyond salvage. the walk back to hogwarts was a parade of giggles and not-so-subtle whispers from your charges. sunghoon walked beside you, his shoulder bumping yours every few steps like he couldn't quite help himself. 

"you realise we're never living this down," you groaned as the castle gates came into view. 

he grinned, that infuriating, lopsided grin that used to make your stomach flip in fourth year and—annoyingly—still did now. 

"where's your sense of adventure?" 

"back in that tea shop, buried under approximately two hundred rose petals."

his laughter followed you all the way up the path, warm and familiar, and despite yourself, you found your steps falling into sync with his. (and if you didn't protest when one of the first-years snapped another photo of you two walking shoulder-to-shoulder—well. some things were better left unexamined.)

things between you and sunghoon had become dangerously comfortable. what started as reluctant co-prefect duties had slowly melted into late-night study sessions where your head would end up on his shoulder, patrols where his fingers lingered a second too long when helping you up, and inside jokes whispered too close to each other’s ears in the great hall. 

it wasn’t a relationship, not really—just stolen moments and unspoken tension that made your stomach flip whenever he smirked at you across a crowded room.

that’s why it stung so much when you walked into the library and saw him laughing with eunji, a bright-eyed ravenclaw a year younger than you both who had newly joined. logically, you knew there was nothing romantic about it—he was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed as she enthusiastically explained some arithmancy concept, his expression more amused than affectionate. but the way his eyes crinkled at her enthusiasm, the easy way he nodded along—it reminded you too much of how he used to look at you before everything got complicated.

"y/n!" sunghoon called when he spotted you hovering by the shelves, waving you over with that same warm smile that always made your pulse skip. "come join us. eunji’s explaining this ridiculous theory about using arithmancy to predict quidditch outcomes."

you forced your feet to move, your grip tightening on your book bag. eunji greeted you with a cheerful wave, her braids swinging. "sunghoon said you’re brilliant at charms! maybe you can help me understand this part about wand movement harmonics?"

the next hour passed in a blur of half-hearted contributions from you and increasingly animated discussion between the two of them. every time you tried to interject, the conversation would circle back to some inside joke or advanced magical theory that left you feeling like an outsider in your own friendship. when eunji reached over to adjust sunghoon’s grip on her notes, demonstrating some wand technique, you suddenly couldn’t breathe properly.

"i should go," you muttered, gathering your things before either could protest. "forgot i promised to meet sunoo for... something."

sunghoon’s brow furrowed as you stood. "you okay?"

"fine." you forced a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. "just tired."

the walk back to your dorm felt infinitely longer than usual, each step weighed down by memories of fifth year—of sunghoon slowly slipping away from you, of empty promises to study together, of eventually finding him surrounded by new friends who looked at you like you didn’t belong.

hogsmeade weekend only made it worse. you’d been hoping to bump into sunghoon accidentally-on-purpose near honeydukes, maybe share a chocolate frog like old times. instead, you found him outside the three broomsticks deep in conversation with eunji again, their heads bent together over some parchment. when he laughed at something she said, that familiar loud, unguarded laugh that used to be yours, something sharp twisted in your chest.

you turned on your heel so fast you nearly collided with a group of third-years.

"there you are!" sunoo’s voice cut through your spiralling thoughts as he and jungwon appeared beside you, their arms laden with zonko’s purchases. "we’ve been looking everywhere—oh." 

sunoo followed your gaze to where sunghoon was now helping eunji adjust her scarf. "that again?"

you let them steer you into the three broomsticks, where jungwon immediately ordered three butterbeers. 

"you’re being ridiculous," sunoo said bluntly as you slumped into a chair. "he looks at you like you invented sunlight. that’s just some kid he’s tutoring."

"but what if—"

"what if nothing," jungwon interrupted, pushing a frothy mug toward you. "remember when you turned his hair pink before the gryffindor match last year? he still smiles when someone mentions that."

the memory should have comforted you. instead, it just made you think of how easily things could change—how sunghoon had drifted away once before, how his parents’ disapproval still hung over whatever this was between you.

by monday, you’d started taking deliberate detours to avoid him. patrols were reassigned, library visits carefully timed, and when you couldn’t avoid crossing paths, you kept conversations painfully polite. sunghoon’s confused frowns and hesitant "hey, wait—"s as you hurried away only made your chest ache more.

"are you trying to break his heart or yours?" sunoo demanded one evening after you ducked into an empty classroom to avoid sunghoon in the corridor.

you pressed your back against the cold stone wall. "it’s not like that. i just... need space."

"from him? or from whatever’s happening between you two?"

you didn’t have an answer.

the tension came to a head in charms class. with flitwick delayed by some mishap in the staff room, the classroom had dissolved into chaos. 

you’d gotten pulled into helping jay, a handsome gryffindor, untangle some particularly stubborn enchanted yarn. his dramatic retelling of his disastrous attempt to knit a scarf for his gran had you laughing so hard your sides hurt.

then you felt it—that unmistakable prickle of being watched.

sunghoon sat three rows back, his usually expressive face unreadable as he stared at you. his quill had stopped moving entirely, fingers clenched so tightly around it you could see the whites of his knuckles from across the room. when jay leaned in to whisper another joke, sunghoon’s jaw tightened visibly, his dark eyes flashing with something that sent heat crawling up your neck.

you forced yourself to look away, suddenly fascinated by the grain of your desk. but like a compass needle finding north, your gaze kept drifting back. minutes passed, and he was still watching you with that same intensity, as if trying to communicate something words couldn’t capture.

when flitwick finally arrived and class ended, you were out of your seat before the dismissal fully left his mouth. you didn’t look back, even when you heard sunghoon call your name in the corridor. your heart pounded as you took the stairs two at a time, your mind racing with questions you weren’t ready to face.

why did his attention still affect you like this? why did part of you still want to turn around and walk straight into that stormy gaze?

and most terrifying of all—what if you’d been wrong about everything?

the uncertainty settled heavy in your chest as you disappeared around the corner, leaving sunghoon and all your unanswered questions behind.

you should've known better than to think you'd have the prefect's bathroom to yourself. the universe had a cruel sense of humour when it came to you and sunghoon.

the massive, pool-like tub was empty when you arrived, steam curling off the water's surface in lazy tendrils. you'd changed into your bathing suit—a modest but pretty thing—before stepping in, sighing as the warm water lapped at your skin.

the golden taps lining the walls gleamed, each set with a different jewel that dispensed everything from rose-scented bubbles to vanilla-infused oils. you'd chosen a mix of both, the sweet floral scent wrapping around you as you leaned back, eyes closed, finally relaxing for the first time in days.

then the door slammed open.

your eyes flew open just in time to see sunghoon stride in, already shirtless, a towel slung low over his hips. your breath caught. he looked unfairly good, water droplets clinging to his skin from the humid air, his dark hair slightly damp like he'd just showered.

his gaze locked onto yours immediately.

"you," he said, voice rough, "have been avoiding me." 

you swallowed, sinking a little deeper into the water. "i wasn't-"

"don't lie." he dropped the towel (thank merlin, he was wearing swim trunks) and stepped into the pool, not breaking eye contact for a second. the water rippled around him as he moved closer, and you instinctively backed toward the far edge, your pulse thundering in your ears.

he stopped you with a hand on your wrist. "where are you going?"

"the-the soap." you gestured weakly to the rose-and-vanilla tap across the pool. "i wanted to.."

sunghoon's grip tightened just slightly. "then go."

you didn't move. neither did he.

the silence stretched, thick with tension, until he finally let out a frustrated breath and tugged you closer. "you're really going to pretend nothing's wrong?"

you bit your lip, glancing away. "i don't know what you're talking about."

"bullshit." his thumb brushed over your wrist, sending a shiver down your spine. "you've been dodging me for days. skipping patrols. running away every time i get near you." his voice dropped, low and dangerous. "was it because of him?"

you blinked. "who?"

"that gryffindor. the one you were laughing with in class." his jaw clenched. "are you into him? is that why—"

"what? no!" you gaped at him. "i was just helping him with—"

"then why?" sunghoon's fingers slid up your arm, his touch burning even through the water. "why avoid me?"

you hesitated, then muttered, "you were the one always with that ravenclaw girl."

sunghoon stilled. then, slowly, a smirk tugged at his lips. "eunji?"

you scowled. "don't act like you don't know who i'm talking about."

he laughed, low and amused, his other hand coming up to cradle your face. "she's my friend's little sister, and, for the record, very much into girls."

your cheeks burned as he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "were you jealous?"

"no!"

"liar." his nose brushed along your neck, and you shivered.

"you've been driving me crazy, you know that? watching you laugh with someone else, then running every time i tried to talk to you—" his hands slid down to your waist, gripping tight. "i couldn't take it"

your breath hitched. "sunghoon—"

"let me help you with that soap," he murmured, already reaching for the bottle floating nearby. 

you didn't protest as he poured a generous amount into his palms, his hands smoothing over your shoulders, down your arms, his touch deliberate and slow. when he reached your back, you tensed, but his fingers were careful, kneading the tension from your muscles as he worked the lather into your skin.

"you're so fucking pretty," he muttered, his lips brushing your shoulder. "it's unfair."

you leaned into him without thinking, your head tipping back against his chest. his hands stilled, then slid around to your front, tracing the dip of your collarbones, the curve of your waist. you could feel his heartbeat against your back, rapid and unsteady.

"sunghoon," you whispered, "your parents wouldn't approve of this. of us."

he stilled, then huffed a laugh. "who cares what they think?"

"they pulled you out of my life once already—"

"and i regret letting that happen every day." his thumb brushed your wrist. "they'll give in once they meet you."

your breath hitched. "you're going to make me meet them?"

"yeah," he said simply, pulling you flush against him. "you're gonna be my girlfriend after all."

the word sent heat rushing to your cheeks. "i never agreed to that."

sunghoon's hands slid to your waist. "then say no." when you didn't, his smirk returned. "that's what i thought."

he turned you to face him, his eyes dark with something that made your stomach flip. "tell me you feel it too."

you didn't have to ask what he meant. "i do."

his breath left him in a rush, and then his mouth was on yours, hot and desperate.

the kiss stole the air from your lungs, a messy clash of teeth and tongue and aching want. his hands gripped your hips like he was afraid you might slip away, fingertips digging into your skin through the thin fabric of your swimsuit. you whimpered against his mouth, your fingers tangling in his damp hair, tugging just enough to make him groan—a low, broken sound that sent a fresh bolt of heat straight to you.

"fuck," he muttered against your lips, voice hoarse, "i missed you. you have no idea—"

he cut himself off by kissing you again, deeper this time, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with a hunger that made your knees weak. you barely realised you were moving until your back hit the slick marble edge of the pool, trapping you between the cool stone and the hard, burning press of sunghoon’s body.

he kissed like he was trying to memorise you—long, unhurried drags of his mouth against yours, punctuated by little nips to your bottom lip that had you gasping. one of his hands slid up your side, tracing the curve of your waist, the dip beneath your ribs, until his thumb brushed just under the swell of your breast, featherlight.

you broke the kiss with a gasp, your head falling back against the marble. "sunghoon—"

"tell me to stop," he said, voice wrecked, forehead pressed to yours. his hand stayed where it was, trembling slightly.

you opened your mouth—but no protest came out. instead, your hands slid down his chest, mapping the planes of muscle, the slick heat of his skin, until you were clutching at him helplessly.

"that's what i thought," he breathed, almost a laugh, before his mouth found your throat.

you choked on a moan as he kissed down the column of your neck, teeth scraping lightly, tongue soothing the sting. his hands, bolder now, roamed freely over your body, mapping every inch like it was his right. the thin straps of your bathing suit slipped down your shoulders under his touch, and you shivered, equal parts from the chill of the air and the heat building inside you.

"someone could walk in," you gasped, barely coherent as his teeth grazed your pulse point.

he cursed under his breath, dragging himself back enough to look at you. his eyes were black with heat, pupils blown wide, chest heaving.

"then come to my room," he said roughly, his voice pure sin. "please."

you hesitated—but then he kissed you again, slow this time, coaxing, like a promise of everything he wasn’t saying out loud. his thumb rubbed slow circles into your hip, grounding you.

"unless," he said against your mouth, smirking wickedly, "you'd rather stay here and risk getting caught."

you swatted his chest, but the fight had long since gone out of you. your body was already leaning into his, your mouth chasing his kiss. "fine," you whispered. "but only because—"

he didn't let you finish, with a grin, he lifted you out of the water in one smooth motion, making you squeal as he carried you toward the door, his lips finding yours again before you could protest.

“your room is right next door after all, so we don’t have to worry about disturbing anyone else.”

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

[elikajinnie]

most important part of the writing process actually is when you loop a single song on max volume and stare at the word document and imagine the characters doing things for 14 hours. this is known as getting in the zone

[elikajinnie]

Writing while drinking, while singing "I'll Be There" from The Count of Monte Cristo on repeat in sorrow— it is not smart... But damn, at least the angst created is good.

[elikajinnie]

i’m seriously so jealous of your ability to produce so quickly 😭😭😭 LIKE BRUH OMGGG

sorry i just need to vent: it’s like i like to put things out just to feel like im being productive but also im working a bigger project, an entire series (ni-ki fic) that i can’t wait to share—but also that has an oc. so idek if that’s going to do well. which is a huge fear of mine, i just like being validated but im also not going to sacrifice my creative integrity.

but i’m like 4 chapters into writing and i enjoy taking my time but i feel like i cannot think about anything else but finishing it.

however, there are one shots and things that i’m mid way in as well so it’s like…

UGH I’VE NEVER COMPLAINED ABOUT FEELING THE MOST CREATIVE I’VE BEEN IN YEARS AND HERE I AM.

I NEED HELPPPPP

Babe pls 😅 I don't produce as quickly as I used to 😔 And don't worry, just do what you love and enjoy. Write at ur own pace, and never sacfrice ur creativity for validation 👏 LET THE CREATIVITY TAKE OVER!!!

[elikajinnie]

U r so cutieeeeeeeee

Urrrr cute!!

[elikajinnie]

GUESS WHOS BACK! I haven't been here in a while and you posted so many works that I highly doubt that I'll be able to catch up. Just finished reading "if I can't have you" and IT WAS AMAZING AS EXPECTED. Ngl, i don't read any dark romance or anything that contains this kind of content. You are the only exception. I mean your fics are 🛐🛐

YAAHHHH

I highly doubt that xD I haven't posted much recently due to irl struggles 😗

BUT IM HAPPY YOU LIKED IT! I'm very happy to hear I'm an exception 😌 Hope you keep liking it 🫶🫡

[elikajinnie]

Did I just buy 3 dark romance books impulsively? Yes. No regrets, though.

[elikajinnie]

P: Obsessed Bff!Ni-ki X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Obsession, Implied Stalking, Mentioned Murder, Dark Themes, Blood/Injury, Manipulation, Jealousy, Ambigious Ending.

Synopsis: School was exhausting—early mornings, endless classes, and a future resting on grades you couldn’t bring yourself to care about. The only thing that made it bearable was Ni-ki, your childhood friend who had been by your side for as long as you could remember. But that was the problem. He was always there. You only had him, and now you wanted some space away from him. But Ni-ki had other plans... After all, he wasn’t about to let you go.

a/n: i had jason dean from the heathers in my mind during this :3 now fun fact! i was spacing out during work and the plot just came to me :3

now playing: nowhere to go by bad omens | stalker by badflower | lil demon by future

Watching the clock on the wall tick away the seconds had been your only source of entertainment for the past few minutes. Your eyelids drooped, heavy with exhaustion, as your arm singlehandedly kept your head from fully surrendering to sleep. The droning voice of your teacher faded into the background, blending with the faint scribbling of pens and the occasional cough from a classmate.

Your only solace was the fact that class was almost over. Your second was that Ni-ki sat beside you, taking notes that you’d probably copy after school. Your third—perhaps the most important—was that if you did end up dozing off, he’d cover for you without hesitation.

That’s what you liked about Ni-ki—he could read you like an open book. After years of friendship, he knew exactly what you needed, when you needed it, and what you liked without you ever having to say a word. He was the one person in the whole world you trusted without hesitation.

So, when he subtly nudged your arm with his elbow, not even glancing your way, you knew it was his way of saying, Stay with me, class is almost over. His notes continued to fill the page in his handwriting, and you briefly wondered if he was even paying attention or just writing for the sake of keeping busy.

You let out a quiet sigh, blinking away the exhaustion, but the weight of the day clung to you stubbornly. Your head tilted slightly toward him, and without a word, he shifted his notebook a little closer to your side of the desk, making it easier for you to read.

A silent agreement. If you weren’t going to stay awake, at least you wouldn’t fall behind.

After all, it was you and Ni-ki against everything. You had him, and he had you. No matter what happened, no matter how hard things got, you both knew that there was no one else who would stick by your side the way he did.

When the clock finally ticked down to the last few seconds, and you both gathered your things. Ni-ki glanced at you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, knowing exactly what was coming next.

"Copy my notes later, yeah?" he said, his tone teasing but warm.

You nodded, a small smile forming despite yourself. “You always know what I need, don’t you?”

Ni-ki’s grin widened, his eyes glinting with that familiar mischievous spark. “I’m practically psychic.” His voice was light, but you could hear the affection hidden beneath.

“You should charge for your services,” you teased back, gathering your books as you stood.

“Yeah, I’d make a fortune,” he said, his voice laced with humor. “But then I’d miss out on all the fun moments, like this one.” He nudged you lightly with his elbow, with a soft smile.

As you both left the classroom, the usual chatter and laughter of your classmates filled the air. You stopped by your locker, pulling out the books you needed for the next class while Ni-ki leaned against the locker beside you, his arms crossed, casually watching the hustle of the hallway.

It was then that Hyunwoo approached, his presence slightly more formal than the usual, his expression serious but friendly. “Hey,” he greeted, nodding towards you. “Got a minute?”

You turned to face him, giving a small nod. "Sure, what's up?"

“I wanted to see if you could meet me at the campus café after classes today,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “We need to go over the presentation for the class project we’re working on together.”

You thought for a moment, then agreed, “Yeah, that works for me.” Hyunwoo smiled, offering a small wave and as he turned to leave, you watched him walk off.

But you weren’t the only one watching him.

Ni-ki had gone still, his attention fully on Hyunwoo’s retreating back. His eyes narrowed slightly, and the usual ease in his posture seemed to shift into something more guarded. You could feel the subtle tension in the air, the way his focus remained locked on Hyunwoo as if he were analyzing every move.

“Is something up?” you asked casually, trying to sound nonchalant, but noticing the way Ni-ki’s gaze lingered, his jaw tightening just a little before he finally looked back at you.

“Nah,” he said after a beat, shrugging like it was nothing. “Just didn’t know you and Hyunwoo were getting all buddy-buddy now.”

You rolled your eyes, shutting your locker with a soft click. “We’re partners for an assignment, Ni-ki. It’s not that deep.”

He hummed, unconvinced, shoving his hands into his pockets as the two of you started walking. “Still. You sure he’s just interested in the assignment?”

You shot him a look. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Ni-ki glanced at you from the side, his expression unreadable for a second before he smirked, his usual teasing demeanor slipping back in. “Nothing. Just saying, I wouldn’t be surprised if Hyunwoo suddenly starts asking you to ‘study’ more often.”

You scoffed, nudging his arm. “Don’t be annoying.”

“I’m not! I’m just looking out for you,” he said, raising his hands in mock innocence. “If he tries anything weird, let me know. I’ll handle it.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re being dramatic.”

Ni-ki let out a small huff, but there was something serious in his expression as he looked at you. “I just want the best for you,” he muttered, his voice softer now. “I know how people are. They act nice, like they care, but most of the time, they just want something from you.” His hands were still stuffed in his pockets, but you could see the tension in his shoulders. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

You sighed, already used to him being like this. Protective. A little overbearing sometimes. But it was just Ni-ki—it was how he was. So instead of arguing, you simply stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him.

His body tensed for half a second before he melted into your embrace, his arms circling around you tightly, almost as if he was afraid to let go. His chin rested lightly on your head, and he closed his eyes, inhaling the familiar scent of your perfume. His fingers curled slightly against the fabric of your shirt, holding you close.

He knew you didn’t see it—didn’t see him for what he really was.

Because Ni-ki wasn’t just protective.

He was possessive.

And he knew exactly what he was doing.

You trusted him. Relied on him. And that was exactly how he wanted it to stay.

So as he held you in his arms, his grip tightening just slightly, his thoughts weren’t on Hyunwoo anymore.

They were only on you.

Ni-ki didn’t let go. He held you just a little longer than necessary, his fingers subtly gripping the back of your shirt like he was grounding himself in the moment. You, oblivious as ever, simply leaned into him, used to his warmth, his presence—used to him.

If only you knew.

If only you saw the way his eyes darkened whenever someone else got too close to you. The way he kept track of the people you talked to, the ones who lingered too long in conversations, the ones who looked at you like they thought they had a chance.

He exhaled slowly, savoring the scent of your perfume, the steady beat of your heart against his chest. It was moments like this that reminded him why he did what he did. Why he always kept an eye on you, why he made sure no one got too close—no one but him.

Because no one else could protect you the way he could. No one else knew you the way he did.

You pulled away first, giving him a small smile, completely unaware of the storm in his mind. “Thanks, Ni-ki,” you said, as if his words had been nothing more than friendly concern.

He forced a smile back, shoving his hands into his pockets again. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, feigning nonchalance. “Just don’t forget it, okay?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I won’t.”

But he knew you didn’t understand.

Not yet.

Ni-ki watched you walk ahead, his jaw tightening slightly as his eyes followed your every step. You were so carefree, so unaware of the way the world worked—of the way people worked. It wasn’t your fault, of course. You were just trusting like that. You always believed the best in others.

And that’s why you needed him.

As he fell into step beside you, his hands shoved into his pockets, his mind was already working through the situation. Hyunwoo was a problem—one that needed to be dealt with. Nothing drastic, of course. Not yet. But he would start small. He knew how to turn people against each other, how to make sure someone like Hyunwoo quietly backed off without you ever realizing why.

You glanced at him as you reached the staircase, your expression curious. “You’re quiet all of a sudden,” you noted.

He snapped out of his thoughts, forcing an easy smirk onto his lips. “Just thinking,” he replied.

“Thinking about what?”

Ni-ki tilted his head, as if considering his answer. “You,” he said simply, watching as your face scrunched up in mild suspicion.

You nudged his arm playfully. “You’re so weird sometimes.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You still keep me around though.”

“Of course,” you said without hesitation. “You’re my best friend.”

A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face, but it was gone before you could catch it. Best friend. That’s what you always called him. That’s what you believed he was.

And for now, he would let you believe it.

Because as long as you thought of him that way, you would always need him. And as long as you needed him, he could keep you safe.

Hyunwoo wouldn’t be a problem for long.

Ni-ki would make sure of it.

After classes ended, you made your way to the campus café, weaving through the late afternoon crowd of students chatting and studying. The scent of coffee and pastries lingered in the air, and the sounds of conversations filled the space as you searched for Hyunwoo.

It didn’t take long to spot him—sitting at a small table near the window, nervously fidgeting with the sleeve of his hoodie. He looked up the moment you walked in, his eyes lighting up as he quickly straightened in his seat, offering you a small, somewhat shy smile.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice soft but warm.

You slid into the seat across from him, setting your bag down beside you. “Hey, sorry if I kept you waiting.”

“No, not at all!” He shook his head quickly, almost a little too eager. “I—I just got here, actually.”

You smiled, amused by his nervous energy. You had always known Hyunwoo to be the quiet, thoughtful type, but seeing him like this—fumbling slightly, his fingers tapping against the table—was kind of endearing.

“So,” you said, pulling out your notebook. “The presentation. Did you have any ideas on how we should split the work?”

“Ah, yeah,” he said, his gaze flickering down to his own notes. “I, um, wrote down a few ideas, but I wasn’t sure what you’d prefer, so I thought maybe we could decide together?” His voice was gentle, uncertain, as if he didn’t want to overstep.

You nodded. “That sounds good. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

As he hesitantly pushed his notebook toward you, his fingers brushed against yours slightly. It was barely even a touch, but you felt him freeze for half a second before quickly retracting his hand, his ears tinged red.

You pretended not to notice, not wanting to fluster him even more. Instead, you focused on the notes, nodding as you skimmed through them. “These are really good,” you complimented, looking back up at him.

His lips parted slightly, as if surprised by the praise, before a small, bashful smile formed. “You think so?”

“Yeah, you’re really thorough. This is gonna make our work a lot easier.”

He ducked his head a little, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… I didn’t want to mess anything up. I know you’re really good at this kind of thing, so I wanted to keep up.”

Something about the way he said it—so earnest, so quietly admiring—made warmth bloom in your chest.

“You don’t have to try to ‘keep up’ with me, Hyunwoo,” you reassured him. “We’re partners, we’re in this together.”

He glanced up at you then, eyes soft, for a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something else, but instead, he simply nodded, that small, shy smile still lingering.

As the minutes passed, you and Hyunwoo fell into an easy rhythm, bouncing ideas off each other as you worked through the presentation. The initial nervousness he had at the start slowly melted away, replaced by a quiet excitement.

“I didn’t know you were so into this topic,” you said, watching as he animatedly explained one of his points, his hands gesturing as he spoke.

Hyunwoo laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess I just really like researching stuff. It’s kind of fun when you get into it, you know?”

You nodded, resting your chin on your hand. “It’s cute.”

The moment the words left your mouth, you realized what you had just said, and Hyunwoo practically short-circuited in front of you. His face turned bright red, and he immediately dropped his gaze to the table, suddenly very interested in the corner of his notebook.

“Cute?” he echoed, voice a little higher than usual.

You chuckled, amused at his reaction. “I meant the way you get excited over things. It’s nice.”

He swallowed hard, nodding quickly as if trying to process your words. “Oh. Um. Thanks.”

Neither of you noticed the tall figure standing outside the window, watching. Cause Ni-ki had followed you. Of course, he had. He wasn’t going to let you wander off to meet Hyunwoo alone—someone had to supervise. And that was all it was supposed to be. Just making sure nothing happened.

But now, standing outside the café, watching through the glass as Hyunwoo looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world, Ni-ki felt something snap.

He had seen that look before.

Had seen the way people got too comfortable, thought they had the right to be close to you—to be near you the way he was.

And he had dealt with it before.

His fingers curled into fists, his jaw clenching as he watched you laugh, completely unaware of the way Hyunwoo practically worshipped you with his eyes. It made his stomach churn, his mind race. That was supposed to be his job.

Before he even realized what he was doing, Ni-ki was pushing open the café door.

The bell above the entrance chimed, but you were too caught up in the conversation to notice—at least, until a shadow loomed over your table.

You looked up, surprised to see Ni-ki standing there, hands stuffed into his pockets, an easy smirk on his lips. “Hey!” you greeted. “What are you doing here?”

Ni-ki shrugged, his gaze briefly flickering to Hyunwoo, who had gone stiff in his seat. “Just thought I’d grab a drink,” he said casually before pulling out a chair and sitting down beside you without asking.

Hyunwoo glanced between you and Ni-ki, shifting uncomfortably. “Uh, do you guys—do you want me to go?”

Ni-ki’s smirk widened, but there was no humor in it. “Nah, don’t mind me. I’ll just sit here. Keep an eye on things.”

Your brows furrowed slightly. “Ni-ki…”

He leaned back in his chair, draping an arm over the back of yours, completely relaxed despite the storm brewing in his mind.

“Go on,” he said, nodding at Hyunwoo. “Don’t stop because of me.”

And as much as he kept his tone light, there was something off in his presence—something that made Hyunwoo hesitate before continuing.

Because Ni-ki wasn’t here to supervise anymore.

He was here to claim his place.

You barely noticed the way the atmosphere shifted as Ni-ki made himself comfortable beside you, his presence taking up more space than it should. His arm was still draped over the back of your chair, his body angled toward you in a way that felt too close, but you didn’t think much of it.

He was always like this.

Hyunwoo, on the other hand, looked unsure, his eyes flickering between the two of you. He hesitated before continuing to talk about the presentation, his voice quieter now.

But Ni-ki wasn’t interested in the presentation.

“Wow, Hyunwoo,” Ni-ki suddenly spoke up, cutting him off mid-sentence. “You’re, like, really into this, huh?” His tone was light, teasing, but there was something sharp hidden beneath it.

Hyunwoo blinked, confused. “Uh, yeah? I mean, it’s for class—”

“Right, right,” Ni-ki hummed, nodding. “Just seems like you’re trying really hard. Almost like you’re trying to impress someone.” He tilted his head, his smirk widening. “Who could that be?”

You laughed, nudging Ni-ki’s arm. “Stop teasing him,” you chided playfully, completely oblivious to the way Hyunwoo had tensed.

“What?” Ni-ki blinked at you innocently. “I’m just saying. It’s kinda cute, don’t you think?”

Hyunwoo cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. “I just want to do well on the assignment,” he muttered.

Ni-ki chuckled, leaning in a little closer to you. “Sure you do, Hyunwoo.”

You giggled, shaking your head, still not catching onto the underlying tension. To you, this was just Ni-ki being his usual self—teasing, playful, maybe a little mean, but never serious.

Hyunwoo, however, wasn’t laughing.

After a moment, he hesitated before asking, “Are you two… dating?”

The question caught you off guard.

Your eyes widened slightly, and you immediately waved your hands. “What? No! We’re not—we’re just—Ni-ki and I—” You stumbled over your words, feeling the heat rise to your face.

Ni-ki, however, said nothing.

Instead, he simply leaned in closer to you, his body pressing slightly against yours as he rested his elbow on the table. His fingers casually brushed your arm as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

And when Hyunwoo glanced at him, Ni-ki’s smirk remained, but his gaze was steady—watching, calculating, almost daring him to say something else.

Hyunwoo swallowed, glancing down at his notebook, suddenly finding it much harder to focus.

Meanwhile, you were still trying to compose yourself, completely missing the way Ni-ki’s fingers ghosted over your wrist, as if subtly reminding you that he was still there.

“W-We’re just friends,” you finally managed to say, forcing a laugh.

Ni-ki exhaled a soft chuckle, but still, he didn’t correct you.

Didn’t agree.

Didn’t deny it, either.

And as Hyunwoo shifted uncomfortably in his seat, Ni-ki only leaned in closer, tilting his head slightly, watching him with an unreadable expression.

Because it didn’t matter what you said.

Ni-ki knew the truth.

Hyunwoo tried to shake off the unease settling in his chest, but it was hard when Ni-ki wouldn’t stop looking at him like that—like he knew something Hyunwoo didn’t. Like he was silently laughing at him.

And maybe he was.

“Well,” Hyunwoo said, clearing his throat, “that’s good to know.”

You, still flustered, nodded quickly. “Yeah! I mean—Ni-ki’s my best friend. That’d be… weird, right?”

At that, Ni-ki finally let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he leaned even closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Yeah, weird,” he echoed, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You didn’t notice how his fingers subtly tightened around the back of your chair. Didn’t notice the way he side-eyed Hyunwoo like he was sizing him up.

You were too busy trying to compose yourself, too busy scribbling something in your notebook to distract from the heat still lingering on your face.

Hyunwoo, however, noticed.

And he had to wonder if maybe Ni-ki wasn’t as harmless as anyone would think.

“So,” you said, finally regaining your composure, “should we wrap this up? I think we covered most of the important stuff.”

Hyunwoo hesitated before nodding. “Yeah, sounds good.” He cast a glance at Ni-ki, who still hadn’t moved from his spot practically pressed against you. “Uh… thanks for letting me work with you.”

“Of course!” You smiled, completely oblivious to the way Hyunwoo’s fingers twitched slightly against his notebook.

Ni-ki only hummed, tapping his fingers against the table. “Yeah, this was fun,” he said, though his tone made it unclear whether he actually meant it or not.

As Hyunwoo gathered his things, he hesitated once more before looking at you. “Maybe we can meet up again? Just to go over everything one more time.”

Ni-ki’s fingers stopped tapping.

You, completely missing the way his expression darkened for just a second, nodded enthusiastically. “That sounds great! Just let me know when.”

As soon as Hyunwoo stepped out of the café, Ni-ki’s entire demeanor shifted. The moment the door swung shut behind him, Ni-ki turned his full attention back to you, his smirk returning, but softer this time—more familiar to you.

“Finally,” he sighed dramatically, stretching his arms before draping one across your shoulders with an easy familiarity. “Thought he’d never leave.”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “You’re so impatient.”

“I hate group projects,” Ni-ki complained, pulling you in just a little closer as if it was second nature. “Especially when I’m not in them.”

“You wouldn’t have helped even if you were in this one,” you pointed out.

He gasped, placing a hand over his heart like you had wounded him. “Wow. You wound me.”

You rolled your eyes, but let him stay close, not thinking much of it. After all, this was Ni-ki. He’d always been touchy, always draping himself over you like it was his right. It wasn’t weird.

Not to you, at least.

But to anyone else walking by?

It was a completely different story.

The way Ni-ki leaned into you, his arm resting so casually over your shoulders. The way his head dipped closer every time he spoke, his voice just low enough that it felt intimate. The way his fingers occasionally brushed against your arm, light, fleeting touches that felt possessive in a way that wasn’t quite noticeable unless you were looking for it.

To anyone watching, there was no doubt about it—

You and Ni-ki looked like a couple.

And maybe that was the point.

Because as Ni-ki sat there, acting like he belonged at your side, his lips curled slightly in amusement.

Hyunwoo would never come in between you and him.

Ni-ki leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly against the wood as his mind raced through the plan he had meticulously crafted. A plan that had been years in the making.

For years, he had quietly worked to ensure that your world revolved solely around him. Slowly, subtly, he'd taken out the people who dared to get too close to you. Each one, a stepping stone to where he was now. They were all nothing more than obstacles to be removed. And every single time, he had been successful. Always.

Now, Hyunwoo had stepped into the picture.

And Hyunwoo, as far as Ni-ki was concerned, was just another pathetic nobody who was standing in his way.

The thought of you smiling at Hyunwoo, laughing with him, looking at him with those bright eyes that only Ni-ki was used to seeing, made something cold coil in his chest. He couldn’t let this go on. He wouldn’t let it.

Hyunwoo wasn’t going to take you from him.

Ni-ki had it all planned out.

Step one was simple, almost too easy. A rumor.

A rotten, venomous rumor that would spread through the school like wildfire. It didn’t matter how small or insignificant it started, because he knew it would reach your ears.

And when it did, when you heard the whispers of Hyunwoo’s so-called true character, you would start to doubt him. You would start to question everything you thought you knew about him.

Ni-ki would ruin him, piece by piece.

The rumor would be about something harmless at first—something enough to be believable, yet still enough to make people look at Hyunwoo sideways. Maybe he had been a felon and just got out of juvie, or maybe he was hiding something from everyone. Something he didn’t want people to know.

It didn’t matter what it was, because the moment it hit the ears of the wrong people, the damage would be done.

Ni-ki’s eyes gleamed with cold satisfaction. He could already see it playing out in his head—the small whispers, the sideways glances, the doubt seeping into your mind. He could already picture you questioning Hyunwoo, wondering if you had been wrong about him all along.

And the best part?

You would never suspect it was him.

No one ever did.

Ni-ki had always been the master of subtlety. The master of making things look like accidents. And he knew exactly how to get what he wanted without ever having to dirty his hands.

And Hyunwoo?

Well, Hyunwoo would be nothing more than a casualty of Ni-ki’s game.

His first move was already in motion. He had already planted the seed, and now it was only a matter of time before it took root and began to grow.

Once the rumor spread, Hyunwoo would crumble.

And when he did, you’d come running back to him. You’d see how right Ni-ki had been all along, how much he cared for you, how much he understood you.

You would remember who had always been there for you.

Ni-ki would make sure of it.

Because at the end of the day, it was always going to be him and you against the world.

And no one could change that.

The next day at school, Ni-ki wasted no time. He was a master of timing—he knew how to slip into people’s conversations, how to make himself just noticeable enough for the rumor to take root, and how to stay under the radar. It was all part of the plan.

He stuck close to you, his usual charm and ease masking the fact that he was meticulously watching every detail, every shift in the atmosphere around you. He was perfectly casual, acting as though everything was normal. He laughed at your jokes, teased you the same way he always did, never letting on that his mind was focused on the bigger picture.

The whispers started slow, like the rustling of leaves in the wind. Little things—insignificant things that didn’t seem to carry much weight at first. But with every passing hour, they grew louder.

Ni-ki heard them all.

It was always the same story, twisted more and more as it passed from person to person. At first, it was just idle gossip. “Did you hear about Hyunwoo? Apparently, he’s been… kind of a player.” Someone would murmur it to another, who would then say it to someone else, until it became something else entirely.

By the time the rumor had made its rounds, Hyunwoo was no longer just a “player” or someone with a bad reputation.

No, now he was something far worse.

“Did you hear? Hyunwoo’s a stalker.”

The words stuck out to Ni-ki like a jagged piece of glass, cutting into his amusement. The rumor had shifted, darkened, morphed into something sinister.

“Apparently, he’s been following women around, sending them creepy messages, even showing up to their home.”

Ni-ki’s lips curled into a wicked smile as he overheard a group of students gossiping about it. He could practically taste the chaos in the air, feel the weight of the lie settle over Hyunwoo’s reputation like a suffocating blanket.

He couldn’t help but feel a rush of satisfaction. The rumor was working. It was twisting its way into people’s minds, painting Hyunwoo as something dangerous.

And the best part?

You hadn’t heard yet.

Not directly.

But it was only a matter of time.

Ni-ki kept his position at your side, subtly steering conversations so you wouldn’t be the first to hear the more shocking parts of the story. He knew you well enough to know how to shield you from it—at least for now.

As the day wore on, the whispers continued, but the one that made Ni-ki’s smirk widen even further was the one that he had planted into the wind himself:

"Did you hear? Hyunwoo's obsessed with a girl he can't have. He stalks her. Followed her home the other day. People say he’s been showing up at her favorite spots, too. Who knows what else he’s done."

Ni-ki chuckled quietly to himself. He knew that version would stick.

Hyunwoo had become the perfect villain in this story, and the seeds of doubt had already begun to sprout in your mind.

He didn’t need to do anything else for now. He just had to sit back and watch it unfold.

And as he saw you later in the day, eyes still unaware of the storm brewing, Ni-ki put his plan into motion again, leaning closer to you as if everything was fine.

“Hey,” he said softly, acting like the best friend he always had been. “You okay? You look a little… distracted.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “Just tired, I guess. It’s been a weird day.”

Ni-ki tilted his head, feigning concern. “A lot of rumors going around today. You heard the one about Hyunwoo?”

You blinked, shaking your head. “What about him?”

“Well…” Ni-ki leaned in just slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m sure it’s nothing, but people are saying… well, stuff. About him following girls around. And it’s starting to get out of hand, you know?”

You stared at him, eyebrows furrowing. “Wait, really? That doesn’t sound like him…”

Ni-ki shrugged, his eyes flickering briefly over to Hyunwoo’s direction before focusing back on you. “I mean, I don’t know. I just heard it from a few people. But it’s getting weird. People are talking, and the more they talk, the worse it sounds.”

You seemed troubled, biting your lip. “I’m a bit doubtful.”

Ni-ki just gave you a soft, reassuring smile. “Just be careful, okay? I don’t want to see you get hurt by someone who doesn’t have your best interests at heart.”

You gave him a grateful smile, completely unaware of the dark satisfaction that lurked behind his eyes.

Ni-ki didn’t need to say anything else.

It was only a matter of time before it bloomed into the full-blown truth everyone would believe.

And as the days passed, the rumor continued to spread, slowly poisoning every conversation that Hyunwoo was a stalker. The whispers followed him wherever he went, and soon enough, students began to glance at him sideways, avoiding eye contact or even crossing the street when they saw him coming. It wasn’t long before the gossip turned into outright hostility—people gave him cold stares, making snide remarks behind his back.

Ni-ki watched it all unfold with quiet satisfaction, each twisted word building the barrier between you and Hyunwoo. He saw the small, hesitant glances you shot in Hyunwoo’s direction, the doubt that began to creep into your eyes. Every time you talked to him, it was more stiff, more uncertain.

Ni-ki, of course, stayed right by your side, always the supportive friend. He was always there to offer a comforting word, a soft touch when you seemed troubled.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked one afternoon as you stared off into space, looking like you were lost in thought.

You sighed, glancing at him with a faint frown. “I don’t know… it’s just… I’ve been hearing so much stuff about Hyunwoo lately. People are saying things, and I don’t know if I should believe them or not.”

Ni-ki’s lips quirked up in the slightest, though his eyes were filled with concern, like he genuinely cared. He moved closer to you, his voice lowering as if sharing a secret. “It’s tough, right? I get it. But, honestly, maybe it’s better to just listen to what people are saying. Sometimes the truth comes out in ways you wouldn’t expect.” He paused for a moment, his gaze drifting toward Hyunwoo, who was talking with a few people across the hallway. “I’ve been hearing some pretty... unsettling things, too. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

You stared at him, your expression caught between confusion and doubt. “But... He don’t seem like that type of person. I don’t want to just believe everything I hear.”

Ni-ki nodded slowly, his hand gently resting on your shoulder in an almost possessive way. “I understand, really. But just... think about it, okay? Trust your instincts, and take care of yourself. I’ll always be here for you, no matter what happens.”

His words seeped into you, and you felt comforted. Still, a part of you couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling in your gut. Something didn’t sit right, but you didn’t know what to make of it yet.

Over the next few days, Hyunwoo became more isolated. He didn’t fight back against the rumors—he didn’t have the energy to. He was becoming a shell of the person you had known, retreating into himself, avoiding eye contact, and withdrawing from everyone. It was as if the weight of the rumors was suffocating him.

Ni-ki, though, was always there, watching over you. He continued to play the perfect role, offering you endless support, making sure you never felt alone.

But he was also keeping a close eye on Hyunwoo, watching him from the shadows, making sure the damage he had caused wasn’t coming undone.

And as you noticed the change in Hyunwoo—his slumped shoulders, the way he barely spoke to anyone anymore—something in your heart twisted with guilt. You weren’t sure what was real and what wasn’t anymore. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had gone terribly wrong.

Ni-ki smiled to himself as you turned away from the window, your eyes still clouded with uncertainty.

Everything was going according to plan.

Yeah no.

Ni-ki’s previously carefully constructed world seemed to shatter in an instant. The next day, he walked into school, expecting to see the usual whispers, the usual isolation surrounding Hyunwoo. He’d kept his distance, knowing that the rumors were doing their job, eroding the trust between you and him bit by bit. He was just waiting for the final nail in the coffin—the moment when you'd pull away from Hyunwoo for good.

But then he saw you.

Talking to him.

Laughing with him.

As if the past few days had never happened.

Ni-ki stopped dead in his tracks, his heart thudding in his chest. His eyes locked onto you and Hyunwoo as they stood by the lockers, shoulders brushing naturally. You were smiling up at him, and it wasn’t the polite, distant smile Ni-ki had seen before. No, this was the real thing. Your eyes were bright, your laugh light, your body turned toward him with a sense of comfort that made Ni-ki's insides twist with something cold.

No.

No.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

The rumors had worked. They had to have worked. Hyunwoo should have been pushed away, isolated, out of your life. He should’ve been some distant memory by now, something you could brush off as a mistake.

But here you were. With him.

Ni-ki’s jaw clenched, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. His mind raced, trying to make sense of it. Maybe it was just a fluke, maybe you were being nice, but the way you laughed at something Hyunwoo said—the way you looked at him—was something deeper than just a casual conversation.

He couldn’t let it go. He couldn’t let you slip away like this.

Ni-ki’s gaze darkened as he walked past them, trying to stay out of sight, but unable to stop himself from keeping a close watch. He heard Hyunwoo say something, and then, to his fury, you laughed. Really laughed, that kind of laughter that only happened when you felt at ease, when you trusted someone. Ni-ki wanted to storm over and pull you away from him, to drag you back to where you belonged—by his side.

But instead, he just stood there, hidden in the corner, his mind spinning.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

You were supposed to be his.

Ni-ki’s breath quickened as his grip on his phone tightened. He needed to think, to do something, anything. He couldn’t let Hyunwoo take you from him.

It was then that the thought hit him—maybe it was time to escalate. The rumor was no longer enough. He had to do something more.

But what? What could he do to ensure that you would never look at Hyunwoo the way you used to look at him?

A surge of panic mixed with anger coursed through him. He couldn’t lose you.

He couldn’t.

Ni-ki’s mind flicked to the moments he had spent with you over the years, the times he had held you close, promised to protect you. He had been patient, always patient, but now, the slow and steady approach was failing. He couldn’t let it go on any longer.

The next move was crucial. It had to be.

But for now, all he could do was watch as you and Hyunwoo continued to talk, oblivious to the storm brewing just behind the curtain.

Ni-ki's frustration was reaching a boiling point. For days, he had played his cards, whispered his lies, and watched as his plan failed to have the desired effect. He tried everything he could think of: more rumors, subtle hints, and even staging situations that would make Hyunwoo look bad. But each time, it was like you didn’t even notice. You didn’t pull away from Hyunwoo. If anything, you were only getting closer to him. Laughing, talking, hanging out. You, who he had always been able to manipulate and control, were slipping away from him.

It was maddening.

Ni-ki couldn’t sleep, couldn’t focus on anything else. Everywhere he looked, you were there with Hyunwoo, your friendship with Hyunwoo growing stronger, while his grip on you weakened. The anger that had been simmering beneath the surface was now bubbling over.

And that’s when he decided he couldn’t take it anymore.

He found you after class, cornered you by the lockers where you were just finishing up with your books. His steps were quick, purposeful, and he was barely holding back the storm brewing inside him.

“Y/N,” he snapped, his voice sharp, and your eyes flickered up to meet his.

You looked confused at his tone but didn’t back away. “What’s up, Ni-ki?” you asked, voice still calm, like there was nothing out of the ordinary.

He couldn't control the frustration that seeped into his words. “What’s up? Are you seriously asking me that? You've been acting like everything’s fine with Hyunwoo. After everything that's been going on? You still won’t listen to what everyone’s saying about him?”

You took a step back, your brows knitting in confusion. “What are you talking about? I told you, Ni-ki, Hyunwoo is not like that. He’s a shy, quiet nerd, not some creepy stalker. People have been blowing things out of proportion.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. The way you spoke, the way you defended him—defended Hyunwoo—it was like a slap in his face. It made his blood boil.

“You really believe that?” Ni-ki’s voice was dangerously low now. He was clenching his fists so tightly his knuckles were white. “You really believe he’s just some shy guy? I’ve been telling you the truth, Y/N. People warned you! And you’re just ignoring it, defending him like he’s some kind of angel. He’s not. He’s a liar and a manipulator. He’s been playing you the whole time.”

The anger in his voice was almost enough to make you step back, but you didn’t. You just looked at him, your face filled with an expression he couldn’t quite read, but the words that left your mouth next hit harder than anything he’d ever heard.

“I’m not going to listen to your lies, Ni-ki,” you said, your voice steady but filled with something he couldn’t ignore. “I’ve known Hyunwoo for some time now. He’s not perfect, but I trust him. And that’s something you’re just going to have to accept.”

His chest tightened, the words stinging him more than they should have. You trusted him. You trusted him more than you trusted Ni-ki.

He could feel the weight of his own breath, shallow now, fighting to stay composed. “You really think he’s worth trusting, huh? After everything that’s been said about him? After all the warnings people have given you?”

Your face softened, but there was an unmistakable firmness in your gaze. “Yes, I do. And I think you’re letting your jealousy get the best of you, Ni-ki. This isn’t like you.”

His eyes narrowed, the words stinging more than he ever expected. Jealousy? Was that all this was to you?

“Jealous?” His laugh was dark, almost bitter. “You think this is about jealousy?” He stepped closer, his voice low and almost threatening now. “You think I’m jealous of him? I’m trying to protect you from someone who doesn’t even deserve to be in your life. You’re so blinded by him, you don’t see it. You don’t see that he’s just using you.”

“I don’t need you to protect me,” you said, your voice firmer than he had ever heard it before. “I’m not a little kid anymore, Ni-ki. I can make my own decisions.”

It felt like the ground beneath him was slipping away. He had always been the one who kept you close, always been the one who kept you from making mistakes. But now, you were pushing him away, trusting someone else more than you trusted him.

And that was something Ni-ki couldn’t—wouldn’t—accept.

He took a step back, his breathing ragged, but his eyes locked onto yours. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He turned sharply, his fists still clenched at his sides. He didn’t say another word as he stormed off, his heart pounding in his chest.

You wanted to believe some random nobody over him? Fine. Then he was no longer playing by the rules.

The days after the confrontation with Ni-ki felt different, unsettling. At first, you tried to ignore the nagging feeling in the back of your mind, but it was hard to shake. Ni-ki had always been the one person you could count on, the one who understood you in ways no one else did. But his sudden behavior, his insistence that Hyunwoo wasn’t someone to be trusted, made you feel... uneasy. The way he’d confronted you, the way he had looked at you like you were making some kind of mistake—it wasn’t the same Ni-ki you’d known for years. And you couldn’t help but feel a strange distance creeping between the two of you.

The more you thought about it, the more you realized just how weird his actions had been. He was clingier, possessive, almost... desperate. And that wasn’t like him. It set off an uncomfortable feeling in your chest, one you didn’t know how to place. You started pulling away, not answering his messages right away, not seeking him out like you used to. It wasn’t that you wanted to push him away, it was just that something didn’t feel right anymore. And it was leaving you with more questions than answers.

In contrast, Hyunwoo had been nothing but calm and sweet. He hadn’t let the rumors or the cold treatment from others affect him. And, oddly enough, his presence started to bring a sense of peace to you.

One afternoon, you found yourself sitting with Hyunwoo in the library, reading a book while he worked on some school assignments next to you. The atmosphere between you was calm and quiet, a comfortable kind of silence that let your mind wander. But the longer you sat there, the more you realized that you weren’t really reading the words on the page. You were lost in thought, replaying the scene with Ni-ki over and over in your head.

You didn’t even notice when Hyunwoo had stopped working and was looking at you, his gaze soft, waiting for you to acknowledge him.

"Y/N?" His voice broke through your thoughts, gentle but persistent.

You blinked, snapping out of your stupor. “Huh? Sorry, Hyunwoo. What were you saying?”

He hesitated for a moment, his cheeks flushing as he looked down at his hands. “I, uh... was just wondering if maybe... you’d want to go out with me one night?” He glanced up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of nervousness and hope, his face turning even redder. “You know, just the two of us. I mean, if you want to, of course.” He stumbled over his words, clearly embarrassed.

You felt your heart skip a beat, a strange tightening sensation in your chest. This wasn’t something you had expected. You hadn’t considered Hyunwoo like that—not in a romantic way. Sure, he was sweet, and you enjoyed spending time with him, but that kind of thought hadn’t crossed your mind.

“I, uh...” You froze for a moment, unsure of what to say. You hadn’t even considered the possibility of going out with him like that. You had just started to get to know him as a friend, but now, the thought of it seemed... strange.

You glanced away for a moment, trying to collect your thoughts, feeling your nerves starting to kick in. "I... I’ll think about it, okay?" you said, trying to sound casual, but your voice betrayed a nervous tremor.

Hyunwoo’s eyes lit up at your response, a shy, relieved smile forming on his lips. “Really? You’ll think about it?” His voice was hopeful, almost too hopeful, and you could see how happy the simple suggestion made him.

You nodded, feeling a strange knot in your stomach. “Yeah... I’ll think about it.”

He smiled even brighter, his face turning a shade darker. “Okay, well... I’ll be waiting, then.” He turned back to his work, but the smile lingered on his face, and you could see the way he was trying to hide his excitement behind his concentration.

You sat there for a long moment, staring at the pages of your book but not really seeing them. Your mind was spinning, your heart racing in your chest. You had no idea what to make of what just happened. You didn’t have feelings for Hyunwoo—at least, you didn’t think you did—but something about his shy, hopeful smile made something inside you stir, a weird feeling that you couldn’t quite explain.

Was this what it felt like to be unsure?

You felt suffocated, like the air around you was pressing down on your chest, making it harder to breathe. Why did he have to ask that? Why now? You liked being around him, but not like that. Not in the way he clearly wanted.

Ugh. You hated this.

You didn’t want to hurt him. But you also didn’t want to lead him on, didn’t want him to think there was a possibility when there wasn’t. And yet, when he had looked at you like that, so full of quiet hope, you couldn’t bring yourself to immediately shut him down.

Now you were stuck in this awful middle ground, confused and conflicted, unsure of what to do next.

You clenched your fists in your lap, your nails digging into your palms. I just want things to be simple again.

“Hey... you okay?” Hyunwoo’s voice broke through your thoughts again, softer this time, like he could sense something was off.

You forced a small smile, even though your chest felt tight. “Yeah,” you lied. “I just... I have a lot on my mind.”

He nodded, not pressing further, and went back to his work. But you weren’t really present anymore. Your thoughts were a mess, your emotions tangled up in a way that made you want to scream.

You barely even noticed the pair of sharp eyes that had been watching you from the moment you had stepped inside the library.

Ni-ki.

He had been waiting, lingering by, watching the way you interacted with Hyunwoo. Watching the way your expression faltered when the other boy spoke to you. And now, seeing the way your shoulders were stiff, the way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes, he knew something was wrong.

Something had happened.

And Ni-ki was going to find out exactly what it was.

Ni-ki didn’t hesitate. His steps were slow, calculated, as he made his way toward your table. His hands were shoved casually in his pockets, but his eyes—sharp, assessing—were locked onto you.

You didn’t notice him at first, too lost in your thoughts. But Hyunwoo did. His body tensed slightly, his fingers tightening around his pen.

Ni-ki slid into the seat beside you, close—too close. His shoulder brushed against yours, and you startled, blinking up at him.

“Ni-ki?”

He tilted his head at you, feigning innocence. “What? Can’t I sit with my best friend?” He turned to Hyunwoo then, flashing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Hey, Hyunwoo. What are we working on today?”

Hyunwoo hesitated. You could tell he was trying to stay calm, but you could also see the shift in his demeanor—the slight unease in his posture, the way he averted his gaze.

“Uh, just some classwork,” Hyunwoo muttered, not looking at Ni-ki directly.

Ni-ki hummed, like he was actually considering the answer, but his attention was on you again in an instant. His fingers tapped against the table, his leg bouncing slightly as if he were holding back something. “You seem lost in thought,” he mused, tilting his head at you. “Everything okay?”

You opened your mouth, then hesitated.

You could tell him. You could let it all out—the confusion, the pressure, the guilt eating away at you. But something about the way Ni-ki was watching you made you hesitate. His eyes were too sharp. Like he already had the answer and was just waiting for you to confirm it. “I’m fine,” you said instead, forcing another small smile.

His gaze flickered, just for a second, before he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “Is that so?”

You nodded, ignoring the way your stomach twisted.

Ni-ki leaned back, exhaling a dramatic sigh. “Well, if something was bothering you,” he said, eyes darting briefly to Hyunwoo before returning to you, “you know you can always tell me, right?” His tone was lighthearted, but you knew him well enough to catch the underlying message.

You swallowed hard. “Of course.”

Hyunwoo cleared his throat. “Um, actually, I think I should get going,” he said suddenly, closing his notebook. “I have something to take care of.”

You frowned, confused by his sudden change in demeanor. “Oh... are you sure? We didn’t even finish studying.”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering toward Ni-ki before landing back on you. He forced a smile. “Yeah, I’ll just... see you later, okay?”

Before you could say anything else, he grabbed his bag and left.

You stared after him, feeling that tightness in your chest again.

“Wow,” Ni-ki chuckled beside you. “Didn’t know he was so jumpy.”

You turned to him, frowning. “Ni-ki, what was that?”

He blinked at you innocently. “What was what?”

“You know what I mean.”

His smile didn’t waver. “I was just sitting with my best friend. Is that a crime?”

Something about the way he said it sent a shiver down your spine.

Ni-ki’s head tilted slightly, his eyes locked onto you. “You’re acting strange,” he mused. “Are you sure you’re okay? You know you can tell me anything.”

There it was again. That suffocating weight in his words.

You forced a tight-lipped smile, gripping the straps of your bag. “I’m fine, Ni-ki. Just… tired.”

He didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure? I mean, I worry about you. Especially with everything going on lately.”

Your stomach twisted.

“I— I have to go,” you blurted out, stepping away from the table so quickly that your chair scraped against the floor.

Ni-ki’s smile didn’t falter immediately, but you noticed the way it froze slightly, like it wasn’t quite real.

“You’re leaving so soon?” he asked, voice still light, but his eyes? They were unreadable.

You nodded, barely sparing him another glance. “Yeah, I just— I need to do something.” Then you turned, quickly walking away before he could say anything else.

You didn’t notice the way he stared after you, the way his expression darkened the moment your back was turned. His smile slowly faded, lips pressing into a thin line, his fingers twitching slightly as he watched you disappear through the library doors.

You didn’t see any of it.

All you could focus on was getting to Hyunwoo.

Your feet carried you through the hallways, your heart hammering against your ribs. You didn’t know why you felt this urgent need to find him, but after what had just happened, you had to. You needed to check on him, needed to make sure he was okay. But as you stepped outside, scanning the campus for any sign of him—he was gone.

Weird...

Your footsteps echoed against the hallway tiles as you hurried from one familiar spot to another, frustration gnawing at you with every passing second.

The classrooms? Empty. The cafeteria? No sign of him. The study lounge? Nothing.

With every place you checked, Hyunwoo seemed more and more like a ghost—like he had disappeared off the face of the earth.

That’s when you remembered.

The photo room.

Hyunwoo had once told you about his love for photography, how he would spend hours developing pictures in the red room, watching them come to life in the dim glow. If he wasn’t anywhere else, maybe he was there.

Heart pounding, you made your way down the quiet corridor leading to the photography lab. The moment you reached the door, you hesitated. Something about the stillness on the other side felt… off. But you shook the feeling away, gripping the handle and pushing it open.

A wave of dim red light washed over you, casting long shadows across the room. The faint chemical scent of developing solutions filled your nose. Photos hung from wires, clipped up to dry, swaying gently in the air.

But Hyunwoo wasn’t there.

You sighed, the tension in your shoulders slowly melting into disappointment. Where could he have gone?

Just as you were about to turn and leave, something caught your eye.

A photo—hanging slightly lower than the others.

Your brows furrowed as you stepped closer, the dim red glow making it hard to make out the details at first. But the longer you looked, the clearer it became. And when you finally realized what you were looking at, your breath hitched.

It was you.

A photograph of you, taken from outside your bedroom window.

Your stomach twisted painfully as your eyes darted to the photos beside it. Some were of trees, the sky, random shots of nature. But scattered among them, hidden in plain sight—were more photos of you.

You in class. You walking home. You reading at the library. You staring out of your kitchen window, completely unaware.

A chill ran down your spine as you took a step back, heart hammering against your ribs.

What the hell was this?

The air in the room felt thick, suffocating as you stood there, staring at the countless photos of yourself. Your hands trembled as you flipped through them, each one worse than the last. Some of them were taken so close, so intimately, that you felt exposed just looking at them.

Then—

The door creaked open.

Your breath caught in your throat as you whirled around.

Hyunwoo stood at the entrance, his wide eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, neither of you spoke. He looked… surprised.

“Why are you here?” he asked, voice laced with confusion.

You swallowed hard, gripping the photos in your hands as if they would disappear if you let go. “I was looking for you.”

His expression softened for a split second—until his gaze dropped to the pictures in your hands.

“You…” His voice was quiet, almost hesitant. “Do you like them?”

Your stomach twisted violently.

"You took these?" The words came out in a breathless whisper, but the disbelief quickly turned into anger as you waved the photos in his face. "You took these?!"

Hyunwoo’s eyes widened in alarm when he actually saw the pictures, hands coming up defensively. “No! No, I didn’t— I would never take those! I don’t know where they came from!”

“You expect me to believe that?” You felt your voice rising, panic and fury twisting together inside you. “These are pictures of me, Hyunwoo! Taken from outside my house! Who else could’ve done it?”

“I don’t know!” he pleaded, his voice cracking. He looked genuinely distressed, but you were too far gone to care. “I only take pictures of nature and trees! Someone must have put them there, I swear!”

His words made you pause.

Because you remembered something.

Hyunwoo had once told you—very distinctly—that not many people had access to the photo lab. That only a few had keys to the room.

And yet, somehow, these pictures ended up here.

Your jaw clenched as the realization hit.

“You’re lying,” you whispered, voice shaking. “I should’ve believed what people said about you. I should’ve known—” You took a step back, feeling disgust crawl up your spine. “You are a creep. You are a stalker.”

Hyunwoo’s face crumbled. “No, please—”

But you were already backing toward the door, chest heaving, mind racing.

You needed to get out of here.

Away from him.

"Please, you have to believe me!" Hyunwoo pleaded, his voice desperate, his hands reaching out like he could physically hold onto your trust before it slipped away completely.

But you were already gripping the door handle, heart pounding in your chest like a drum. You needed to go.

"Stay away from me!" you snapped, yanking the door open.

Hyunwoo moved instinctively, trying to grab your wrist—whether to stop you or just to make you listen, you didn’t know. You didn’t care.

SLAM!

You shoved the door shut with all your strength, and the solid thud of it colliding with Hyunwoo’s face was followed immediately by a sharp cry of pain.

You didn’t stay to see the damage.

Didn’t look back.

You ran.

Your breath came in quick, shallow gasps as your feet pounded against the tile floors, the sound of your own pulse roaring in your ears. The hallways were eerily empty, the school quiet except for the echo of your frantic footsteps.

You didn’t stop.

Not when your legs started to burn. Not when your lungs screamed for air. Not until you were far, far away from that room, from those pictures, from him.

Hyunwoo’s breath was still ragged as he clutched his nose, the sharp sting of pain radiating through his face. He could feel the warm trickle of blood slipping past his fingers, but he barely registered it. His mind was spinning too fast, replaying everything that had just happened.

You—your horrified expression. Your accusations. Your retreating figure as you ran away from him like he was some kind of monster.

His stomach twisted painfully.

He had to find you. Had to fix this.

Gritting his teeth, he braced himself to stand, but just as he began to push himself up—

The door creaked open.

For a split second, hope sparked in his chest.

“Y/n?” he croaked, expecting to see you. Expecting you to have come back, second-guessing your words, ready to listen.

But it wasn’t you.

It was Ni-ki.

Hyunwoo’s entire body went still.

The dim glow of the room made it hard to read his expression, but the way he stood there—calm, relaxed, as if he had all the time in the world—made Hyunwoo’s skin prickle with unease.

Ni-ki tilted his head slightly, eyes flickering down to Hyunwoo’s bloody nose before dragging back up to meet his gaze.

“Tough day?” Ni-ki asked, voice smooth, casual. Too casual.

Hyunwoo swallowed thickly, trying to shake off the chill creeping up his spine. “What… what are you doing here?”

Ni-ki stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind him. His eyes trailed lazily over the photos hanging from the wires, his lips curling slightly in amusement.

“Just checking in,” he murmured, brushing his fingers over one of the pictures. One of you.

Hyunwoo felt his pulse quicken.

"You—" He hesitated, a sudden thought slamming into him like a freight train. "You did this."

Ni-ki finally looked at him again, dark amusement flickering in his gaze. "Did what?"

"You planted these photos here,” Hyunwoo accused, forcing himself to his feet despite the throbbing in his face. “You wanted her to find them. You wanted her to think it was me."

Ni-ki didn’t deny it.

He simply smiled.

"Wow," Ni-ki said, slow and mocking. "Look at you, putting all the pieces together. Guess you’re not as dumb as you look."

Hyunwoo clenched his fists. His entire body was shaking—not just from anger, but from the sickening realization that Ni-ki had been playing a game this whole time. That he had been set up.

"Why?" Hyunwoo demanded. "What the hell is your problem?"

Ni-ki sighed, stepping closer. "My problem?” He let out a soft chuckle, leaning in slightly, voice dropping to a near whisper. “You are.”

Hyunwoo barely had time to react before Ni-ki’s hand shot out, gripping his throat in a bruising hold.

"You should’ve stayed in your lane, Hyunwoo," Ni-ki murmured, his grip tightening, his expression unreadable. "But you didn’t. You got too close. And now?" He smiled wider, something twisted in the way his lips curled.

"Now you’re done."

Ni-ki's grip was unrelenting, his fingers digging into Hyunwoo’s skin as he struggled desperately to break free. He tried to shove him off, twisting and pushing, but Ni-ki was taller and stronger.

"Let go of me!" Hyunwoo gasped, his breath coming out in short, panicked bursts as he thrashed against Ni-ki’s hold.

But Ni-ki only tightened his grip, forcing Hyunwoo back against the table. His dark eyes gleamed under the red light, his expression eerily calm despite the madness lurking beneath the surface.

"You took her away from me." Ni-ki murmured, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "You were never supposed to be here. You were never supposed to be in her life."

Hyunwoo’s stomach dropped as Ni-ki reached into his pocket, and before he could even process what was happening—

The glint of a knife caught the red light.

Hyunwoo’s blood ran cold.

His struggling grew frantic as his eyes locked onto the sharp blade in Ni-ki’s hand, his heart hammering so hard it felt like it might burst out of his chest.

"You took my girl away," Ni-ki accused angrily. "But that’s okay. I know how to fix things. I know how to get rid of pests."

Hyunwoo’s breath hitched. "Ni-ki, please—"

"She’ll come back to me," Ni-ki continued, ignoring him completely, his grip steady as he lifted the knife higher. "And this time, she won’t leave. This time, she’ll be mine—permanently."

Hyunwoo's eyes widened in terror. "You’re insane!" he shouted, thrashing harder, his body screaming for an escape. "You don’t have to do this—please, don’t do this—!"

But Ni-ki only grinned.

And then—

The knife came down.

You couldn’t believe what your life had come to.

Your body felt ice cold, your fingers numb as you walked aimlessly through the school hallways, your mind clouded with disbelief, shame, and something else—something worse.

Hyunwoo had those pictures.

Pictures of you.

Moments where you were completely unaware—fresh out of the shower, changing in your room, lost in thought by your window.

These weren’t normal pictures. They weren’t innocent.

They were intimate.

The kind of images that no one should ever have taken. The kind of pictures that made you feel exposed, violated.

Your stomach twisted painfully, nausea clawing up your throat.

How could you have been so stupid?

You had wanted a friend. Someone other than Ni-ki. Someone to prove that your world didn’t have to revolve around just one person.

But that person—the one you had chosen to trust—had turned out to be a vile stalker.

He had stolen your privacy, taken something that wasn’t his to take.

And Ni-ki…

Ni-ki had been right all along.

He had warned you. Had tried to keep you safe. Had told you not to trust Hyunwoo, and you—

You had ignored him.

A fresh wave of regret crashed over you, suffocating and overwhelming. You should have listened. You should have been careful.

All you hoped now was that it wasn’t too late.

That Ni-ki would forgive you.

That he would take you back.

Because right now, the only place you felt truly safe was with him.

You spotted him before class, standing near the lockers, casually chatting with a few people. His back was partially turned to you, his posture relaxed.

For a moment, you hesitated.

What if he was still mad? What if he didn’t want to see you after how you had doubted him? But you couldn’t keep this weight in your chest any longer. You needed him.

Taking a shaky breath, you pushed forward, weaving through the hallway until you reached him.

“Ni-ki.”

His name came out softer than you intended, barely audible over the noise. But somehow, he heard you. The conversation around him stilled as he turned his head, eyes meeting yours. And just like that his amusement vanished.

The people around him looked between the two of you before one of them nudged his arm. “We’ll catch up later.”

Ni-ki didn’t acknowledge them as they walked away. His attention stayed fixed on you, a slow blink the only reaction he gave.

You swallowed, shifting nervously under his stare. “Can we talk?”

For a moment, he didn’t respond.

Then, after what felt like forever, he tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a small smile. “Now you want to talk?” His voice was casual, but there was an unmistakable edge to it.

You bit your lip, guilt twisting in your stomach. “Ni-ki, please…”

His smile widened slightly, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Then, with an exaggerated sigh, he leaned back against the lockers, crossing his arms. “Alright,” he mused, studying you. “I’m listening.”

You shifted on your feet, looking up at Ni-ki anxiously. His expression was tense, his dark eyes locked onto you like he was peeling you apart layer by layer, searching for something.

“I…” You hesitated, your throat dry. “I was wrong.”

He didn’t react. He just stared.

“I should have listened to you,” you continued quickly, hoping that if you just kept talking, he’d say something. “You were right. Hyunwoo was—he is a creep. I shouldn’t have doubted you, Ni-ki. I should have trusted you.”

Silence.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, he let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as he looked at you through lidded eyes. “You should have,” he murmured.

The knot in your stomach tightened. “I—I know. I feel awful about it. I just wanted to know if we—if you could forgive me.”

Ni-ki tilted his head, watching you. Then, in a movement so slow it made your breath hitch, he reached out, brushing his fingers along your cheek. “I don’t know…” he mused, his voice light, teasing. But his fingers gripped your chin just slightly, keeping your eyes on his. “You really hurt me, you know?”

Guilt crashed into you, making your chest ache. “I didn’t mean to,” you whispered.

“But you did.” His grip didn’t tighten, but the weight of his touch made you feel like you couldn’t move. “You chose him over me.”

“No,” you rushed to say, shaking your head as much as his hand would allow. “I wasn’t choosing him over you, I swear. I was just—”

He sighed, cutting you off. His fingers slid away, and suddenly, you missed his touch. “You know,” he said, voice soft, “after everything I’ve done for you, I really thought you knew me.”

Your stomach dropped. “Ni-ki, I do—”

“Do you?” He gave you a sad smile, “because if you really did, you would have never doubted me.”

Your throat tightened. “I won’t ever again,” you said quickly, desperate to fix this. “I promise, Ni-ki. I’ll listen to you. I’ll trust you.”

He hummed, eyes studying you. “You sound so sure now.”

“I am.”

Another beat of silence, then Ni-ki sighed dramatically, as if this was all so difficult for him. “Well…” He suddenly grinned, his usual, easy-going expression slipping back into place. “I guess I can forgive you.”

Relief flooded through you. “Thank you,” you breathed.

But you didn’t notice the way his smile didn’t reach his eyes. You didn’t notice the way his fingers flexed at his sides, the way his posture shifted ever so slightly—like a predator easing back into position after a temporary setback. All you saw was Ni-ki, your best friend, smiling at you again, forgiving you. That was all that mattered.

You let out a breath you didn’t even realize you had been holding, and without thinking, you stepped closer, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. “I missed you,” you murmured against his shoulder.

Ni-ki stilled for a second. Then, slowly, his arms came around you, pulling you in just a little too tight, his hand settling against the small of your back. “Oh,” he breathed, voice dripping with affection. “You have no idea how much I missed you too.”

You smiled, completely oblivious to the way his fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt, as if grounding himself.

As if making sure you wouldn’t slip away again.

When you pulled back, he studied your face, his expression unreadable. Then, in an instant, he was back to his usual self—grinning, shoving his hands into his pockets like nothing had happened. “So,” he said casually, “since I’ve so graciously forgiven you, I think you owe me a little something.”

You blinked. “Owe you?”

He smirked. “Mhm. You ditched me, remember? So I think you need to make it up to me.”

You bit your lip, guilt still swirling in your chest. “Okay… What do you want?”

His smirk widened just the slightest bit, his eyes gleaming. “I have an idea,” he said simply.

You let out a small laugh, rolling your eyes. “Alright, fine. Be mysterious then.”

That was all he needed to hear.

Ni-ki's smirk didn’t waver as he draped an arm over your shoulders, pulling you just a little too close, but you didn’t question it. Why would you?

If his grip on you was a little firmer than usual, you ignored it. If his fingers brushed against your shoulder just a little too slowly before settling, you thought nothing of it. Because you were too relieved. Too happy to have him back.

And Ni-ki knew that.

“C’mon,” he said, leading you down the hallway, his pace slow and easy. “Let’s get out of here before class starts. You owe me, remember?”

You hesitated. “I don’t know, Ni-ki..”

He sighed dramatically, nudging you with his shoulder. “Skipping one school day won’t kill you. Besides, you seem stressed.” He gave you a sideways glance, tilting his head slightly. “You’re still thinking about him, aren’t you?”

Your stomach twisted. “I just… I don’t get it,” you admitted quietly. “How could Hyunwoo do something like that? I really thought he was my friend.”

Ni-ki clicked his tongue. “That’s the thing about people,” he murmured, his grip on you tightening just a fraction. “They lie. They pretend. They disappoint you.”

You swallowed, unsure of why his words made a shiver crawl up your spine.

But before you could say anything, Ni-ki suddenly brightened, tugging you forward. “Enough about him,” he said cheerfully, like he hadn’t just spat his last words. “Let’s go. I wanna spend some time with you.”

You hesitated for only a second. Then, finally, you nodded.

Because Ni-ki was right. You were stressed. And spending time with him would help.

So you let him lead you away.

And you didn’t notice the way his smirk returned as you finally fell into step beside him. You didn’t notice the way his fingers twitched against your shoulder.

Because Ni-ki had won.

You were right where you belonged.

Ni-ki had a way of making everything feel easy.

The moment you agreed to skip class with him, any lingering guilt melted away. He took you downtown, leading you into store after store, insisting you pick out whatever you wanted.

At first, you protested. “Ni-ki, this is too much—”

But he just rolled his eyes, pushing a expensive sweater into your arms. “Shut up and let me spoil you.”

And you did. Because how could you say no when he looked at you like that?

After shopping, he dragged you to the arcade, a smug grin on his face as he cracked his knuckles. “Alright, what do you want?” he asked, motioning to the rows of claw machines and prize walls.

You pointed at a ridiculously large plushie sitting inside one of the machines. “That one.”

He let out a low whistle. “Going big, huh?”

“You said I could pick anything,” you reminded him with a smirk.

Ni-ki laughed, ruffling your hair. “Alright, princess. Watch and learn.”

And, of course, he won. Because of course he did. After three tries—because “I’m warming up, shut up”—he proudly pulled the giant plushie out, shoving it into your arms with a satisfied grin. “There,” he said, watching as you hugged it tightly. “Now you can’t say I never get you anything.”

You beamed at him. “Thank you, Ni-ki.”

Something flickered in his gaze at your words, but before you could question it, he slung an arm around your shoulders again. “Alright, enough fun. Let’s go to my place,” he said, leading you out of the arcade.

That was how you ended up in his room, curled up on his bed, the giant plushie beside you as a movie played on his TV.

You were comfortable, warm, and full from the snacks he had insisted on buying.

It felt safe.

Leaning against his pillows, you sighed happily. “Today was fun.”

Ni-ki turned to you, a lazy smirk on his lips. “Told you.”

You laughed softly, glancing at him. “I am supposed to be the one making it up to you, remember? Doing the things you did today.”

His eyes darkened for a fraction of a second before he grinned. “Oh, don’t worry. You will.”

You blinked, tilting your head. “Huh?”

But Ni-ki just reached over, casually tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Nothing,” he said smoothly, voice low. “Just relax. I like having you here.”

You smiled, resting your head against the plushie.

And Ni-ki?

He just watched you, a satisfied gleam in his eyes.

Because everything was perfect.

His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he paused the movie, his hand casually moving to the remote. “I’ll be right back,” he said, standing up. “Gotta hit the bathroom.”

You nodded absentmindedly, your attention shifting to the movie screen as he disappeared out of the room.

The silence in the room felt heavier than usual, and you stretched your legs under the blankets, the muscles aching from staying in one position for so long. Standing up, you felt the soft rush of air hit your skin as you stepped away from the bed.

You wandered around the room, your eyes taking in the familiar space. Ni-ki’s room was always so... him. The shelves lined with trophies, random trinkets, and a few of his old toys. Your gaze flicked over the pictures on one of the shelves—mostly candid shots, most of them of you and him together.

You smiled softly, memories flooding your mind.

There was one where you both were little, a snapshot of you and Ni-ki running through a park, laughing with carefree expressions. Another where you two were sitting in the same spot at a carnival, a huge stuffed bear between you, just like today.

But what caught your eye the most was a picture of the two of you at a family gathering. You were both a bit older, but the way you were smiling at each other, your cheeks flushed from laughing, made something flutter in your chest.

You picked it up carefully, your fingers brushing against the glass frame. You didn’t remember exactly when it was taken, but the memory felt so vivid—Ni-ki teasing you, making you laugh so hard that you nearly choked on your drink, then gently patting your back when you’d spilled it.

It felt like a lifetime ago.

A soft sigh left your lips as you placed the frame back, running your fingers along the shelf. Everything here felt like home.

You turned to walk back to the bed, about to sink into the comfort of the blankets once more, when something caught your eye.

On Ni-ki’s desk, almost hidden in plain sight among some scattered papers and random objects, was a photo book. You hadn't noticed it before. It looked out of place, lying there as though it had been carelessly thrown aside in a rush, half-forgotten.

Your brow furrowed. You didn’t remember seeing it the last time you were in his room, and curiosity tugged at you. You tilted your head, your feet carrying you instinctively toward his desk.

You reached out, picking it up cautiously, the cover was plain, a simple, dark leather binding that had clearly seen better days, worn from use. You assumed it would be full of memories—pictures of you and Ni-ki growing up, like all the other ones in the room.

But as you opened it, your breath caught in your throat.

It wasn’t what you expected.

The pages were indeed filled with pictures. Pictures of you.

But these weren’t the happy, carefree photos of your childhood that you had seen in the frames on the shelf. These were different.

These were pictures of you when you were unaware. Taken without your consent.

Your heart raced, and your palms began to sweat as you flipped through the pages. Picture after picture, each one more unsettling than the last. There you were, sitting on the bus, walking home, standing by the window of your house, your back to the camera. Your face, your body, captured in intimate, personal moments.

Your throat tightened as your mind struggled to process what you were looking at.

The pictures were disturbingly familiar. They looked exactly like the ones you had seen in the photo room. The ones that had sent a cold chill down your spine. The ones you thought were taken by Hyunwoo.

You could feel your pulse in your ears, panic swelling within you. This was wrong. This was beyond wrong.

You flipped through the pages faster, as if the speed would make the truth less real. But it only made it worse. The photos were endless. You could see the places you’d been, the things you had done—none of it private, none of it yours anymore.

The realization hit you like a slap across the face.

Ni-ki had been following you. Watching you.

Your stomach churned, nausea creeping up your throat. You could feel the tightness in your chest, the pressure building, suffocating you.

And just as you were about to flip the page again, a familiar voice broke through the fog of your thoughts.

“Hey,” Ni-ki called from behind you, his tone light, like he was calling your name in some sort of casual greeting.

Your body froze, and the book dropped from your hands, the pages scattering on the desk as you turned to face him.

His eyes scanned your face, as if looking for something—something you couldn’t give him.

“I didn’t expect you to be so interested in that,” he said softly, his voice almost too calm.

You swallowed hard, the words stuck in your throat, and your heart beat wildly in your chest. You wanted to scream, to run, but all you could do was stare at him.

He smiled then, but it was different. There was no warmth in it. Just something cold, something that made the room feel smaller, darker.

“Why... why do you have these?” you finally managed to ask, your voice trembling.

Ni-ki’s smile widened, and he took a slow step closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Because I wanted to remember you,” he said softly, his voice oddly sweet. “Every little moment. Everything about you.”

You backed away instinctively, your mind scrambling for some form of defense, but the words tangled in your throat. You were stuck. Trapped.

Ni-ki reached out, a glint of something dark in his eyes as he touched your arm gently, his fingers lingering.

“But don’t worry,” he whispered, his voice soft, almost reassuring. “You’re not going anywhere. You never have to.”

You couldn’t breathe. Your entire body screamed for you to run, but your legs wouldn’t move.

And Ni-ki just watched you, the satisfaction in his gaze unmistakable, as the world around you felt like it was collapsing.

Because now you realized—Ni-ki had been controlling everything.

You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe.

Your mind was too fogged, too overwhelmed to process it all at once. You could only stare, your mouth slightly open, your hands shaking at your sides.

And Ni-ki…

Ni-ki just smiled, that same soft, knowing smile that had always comforted you before—but now, now it felt suffocating.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, stepping closer, reaching out with careful hands as if you were something delicate, something that could shatter at the slightest touch. His fingers brushed your cheek, his warmth stark against your cold, clammy skin.

“You look so scared,” he whispered, his voice drenched in something too sweet, too tender. “You don’t have to be. I’m right here.”

Your body flinched instinctively, but you didn’t pull away. You couldn’t. His presence, his words, his touch—it was all too much, too overwhelming, and you felt trapped, like a moth caught in a web, the silk threads of his affection and obsession binding you tighter with every second.

“This is a lot, isn’t it?” Ni-ki cooed, his hand slipping down from your cheek to your shoulder, his grip firm yet comforting. “I know it must be confusing. But you don’t have to worry about anything.”

His eyes softened, and for a fleeting second, you almost believed him.

Almost.

But then you remembered the book. The pictures. The lies. The control.

“N-Ni-ki…” Your voice came out weak, barely above a whisper.

He hummed in response, tilting his head like he was waiting for you to say something important, something that mattered. But the words wouldn’t come. You didn’t even know what you were trying to say.

You didn’t know what to do.

And Ni-ki could tell.

His expression was gentle, something so sickeningly affectionate that it made your stomach twist. He let out a soft sigh before pulling you forward, wrapping his arms around you like a lover soothing their frightened other half.

“There, there,” he murmured against your hair. His fingers trailed slow, lazy circles on your back, his touch light but firm enough to keep you pressed against him. “I’ve got you. I always have.”

You let out a shaky breath, your entire body stiff in his embrace, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“You’re so cute,” he whispered, his voice almost adoring as his hand came up to cradle the back of your head. “So innocent… too trusting for your own good. You needed someone to protect you, didn’t you? Someone who understood you.”

His fingers tangled in your hair, and he pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your temple.

“I did this for us,” he murmured against your skin. “So you wouldn’t have to be afraid anymore. So no one would ever take you from me.”

Your breath hitched.

You should’ve run. Should’ve fought. Should’ve screamed.

But instead, you just stood there, frozen in place, as Ni-ki held you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

Because you had always trusted Ni-ki.

And that’s exactly what he wanted.

a/n: Answers to possible questions; 1. Ni-ki did kill Hyunwoo in the photo room. 2. Ni-ki wanted you to find the photo book. 3. Ambigious ending, so you choose if you wanna forgive Ni-ki or tell the police :)

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[elikajinnie]

i hate the new discord desktop setup..

anyways the new ni-ki fic drops tonight x

[elikajinnie]

P: Psycho!Heeseung X Fem!Reader (Recommended age 18+)

Warnings: Obsession, Stockholm Syndrome, Power Imbalance, Dark Themes, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Isolation, Psychological Horror, Suggestive Content, Mature Content

Synopsis: You’ve lost track of time since Heeseung took you—days, weeks, maybe months. The walls around you close in, suffocating you, broken only by his voice. "Do you love me?" he asks, over and over. And every time, you tell him "No." But Heeseung is running out of patience. And if sweet words and waiting won’t change your answer, he’ll just have to find another way to make you say yes.

--

Coming soon x

P: Professor!Jay X Student!Reader (Recommended age 18+)

Warnings: Manipulation, Obsession, Psychological Horror, Power Imbalance, Possessive Behaviour, Suggestive Content, Dark Themes

Synopsis: Professor Park adores you—his best student, his brightest star. But the moment you step out of line, the warmth disappears. "You’re acting out, love. I don’t like it." Suddenly, your world tilts off balance, and the only way to steady it is to earn back his favor. To beg for his approval. But no matter how hard you try, you start to realize there is no 'good side' to Professor Park. There is only him.. and his rules.

--

Coming soon x

[elikajinnie]

just coming on to say that i will not be held responsible for the next few dark!enhypen fics that will be posted! And my fellow freaky gals will get it, those who dont? well.. oops

[elikajinnie]

feels like fake news

[elikajinnie]

coming next week x

[elikajinnie]

HAPPY NOWRUZ to all Persian and all non Persian! We Iranians celebrate this day as the first day of the solar year. Many of Iran's neighbors, such as Iraqis, Afghans, Turks, Kurds, Turkmens, Arabs, Uzbeks, Kazakhs, Tajiks, Pakistanis, Azerbaijanis, and even parts of Eastern Europe, celebrate this holiday like us.

have a beautiful spring☘️🌱