rjunhuang

[rjunhuang]

GEN Z LUV ᯓ♡ 📲 ˎˊ˗ [p.sunghoon]

─────────────────────

“when our children ask us how did we meet, i’m tellin’ them, ‘gen z luv,’ ‘fyp love,’ ‘ig love.’”

pairings ⟢ down bad tiktoker! sunghoon x fem! reader contains ⟢ profanity, crack/humour, fluff, frank ocean mentioned, one shot! ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ this is a behind of like a tattoo! sunghoon (my ongoing heeseung smau) <3

⟢ while scrolling on tiktok, you decide to comment under a random guy's viral thirst trap video – completely unaware that you just became the love of his life.

─────────────────────

author's note: i laughed so hard editing sunghoon’s tik tok, ANYWAYS LOL just a little drabble i hope u enjoyed reading it!! if you liked sunghoon’s character check out my smau like a tattoo here! 😸 also this song makes me crack tf up SO BADDDD😭😭

copyright © bambiens 2025.

[rjunhuang]

⠀⠀ ⁝ ⠀SO GORGEOUS ╱ park sunghoon  ✶

pairing: park sunghoon x reader. platonic!rest of enhypen x reader.

songs: gorgeous by taylor swift. everybody here wants you by jeff buckley. if looks could kill by a heartwell ending.

summary: you tell the group chat about your first impression of sunghoon.

warnings: kys/kms jokes. gender neutral reader. down bad!sunghoon. loser!sunghoon. first time doing a text fic. mentions of niki/heeseung liking a girl. hoon and reader are best friends. sunghoon is smitten. oblivious!reader. humour.

note: i actually don't know if i'll do more smaus in the future bc highkey it's a bit hard for me?? let's see!! depends on the big brain up there. also lol i can't stick to a consistent fandom to write about

[rjunhuang]

MOONSTRUCK , ⋆｡°✩ 𓈒𓈒 crazy over you

𖥔 PRECIS. In which, sunghoon’s feelings for you start to feel like more than he can handle… PAIRING. smitten!sunghoon x tipsy!reader GENRE. fluff, suggestive WARNINGS. skinship, mild kissing, mentions of drinking

authors note ୨୧ I have nothing to say. get into it hoon!

─────────

You were… tipsy. Sunghoon knew that much. The proof was in the flush that colored your cheeks, a vivid contrast against your bonze-toned skin.

Despite the alcohol in both your systems, it didn’t take away from the fact that his mind was reeling.

The two of you had been in attendance for Jake’s birthday trip. A small , cozy gathering at his grandparent’s lakehouse for the weekend.

After a day filled with laughter, games, and a few drinks, the group had winded down for the night.

It was late, and you and Sunghoon were the last ones still awake, sitting on the porch talking under a shared fluffy blanket. It was nice… comforting. Just the two you, sharing quiet laughs and whispered stories under the stars.

But, Sunghoon couldn’t defy the nagging urge at the back of his mind to tell you. Tell you he was in love with you, so in love that it hurt.

It had started to get chilly, and with the others already asleep, you had both decided to move inside to a guest room with two twin beds—it was the only available space left.

Too relaxed to worry about where else to go, you agreed to take up the two beds, facing each other with drowsy eyes and lingering smiles.

As time passed, still laying in silence, Sunghoon couldn’t help but begin to toss and turn with the intention of sleep. The silence that was strangely comforting before, had started to become deafening, heavy with unspoken words.

Finally, Sunghoon rolled over to face you, his breath catching as he took in the sight of you blinking slowly, eyes glazed over yet intensely focused on him.

“You know…” His voice broke the silence, low and hesitant, almost drowned by the pounding of his own heart.

“Hm?” Your eyebrows arched, your gaze still locked on his, those large, innocent eyes piercing through the darkness.

“It’s… it’s nothing.” The courage he had mustered slipped away like sand through his fingers.

“What…?” your voice was soft, the edges frayed with weariness.

“I… really, it’s nothing.”

The silence returned, thicker this time, a suffocating blanket that wrapped around you both.

“Can you sleep now…? Are you sleepy…?” he murmured, voice hushed as though even in the solitude, someone might overhear.

“Mm…” you nodded, pushing yourself up to a sitting position, rubbing your eyes with a pout that made his heart tighten.

“I think I’ll sleep there.”

Sunghoon’s heart skipped a beat, then raced ahead as you slipped from your bed and into his own with a graceful clumsiness that only you could achieve.

When you landed with a soft thud, your noses were mere inches apart, your hushed giggles mingling with his own chuckles as you adjusted yourself under the covers, and rolled over so your back was pressing against his chest.

Warmth flooded Sunghoon’s senses, as if the bed weren’t already small enough. He prayed you could feel the frantic rhythm of his heartbeat against your back…

Feel how fast it was racing. How honest would that be?

You were so warm…

“Use my arm as a pillow…” he offered, his voice barely a whisper as you lifted your head to rest on his arm.

“Why…?” you asked, your voice a breathy murmur.

“So we can be closer…” he answered, the words tumbling out in a rush, his heart still pounding.

You stayed like that, the quiet punctuated only by the sound of your breathing, soft and steady. You shifted again, clearly in discomfort, and a breathy chuckle escaped Sunghoon’s lips.

“Why didn’t you bring your pillow over…?” he teased, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at you.

You glanced dismissively at the abandoned pillow on your abandoned bed before your gaze snapped back to him, piercing him to the core.

Your glassy eyes glittered under the moonlight streaming in through the window, long lashes casting delicate shadows on your flushed cheeks as you blinked slowly.

You were… breathtaking. Sunghoon’s heart constricted painfully at the sight of you.

Slowly, you reached up to smooth down your own bedhead, and without thinking, Sunghoon followed suit, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear with trembling fingers.

Your eyes never wavered from his, tracing his every feature, studying him with an intensity that left him breathless.

What were you thinking? He could never tell, and as of right now… he was desperate.

You blinked slowly, your lips parting as you finally broke the thickening silence.

“Is this… not a good idea?” your voice was soft, laced with innocence yet tinged with a challenge, your doe eyes searching his own for an answer.

“No…” His voice was hoarse, his throat dry, but he kept his gaze steady on yours.

“It’s good.” He added, pulling the comforter snugly around you both.

“Hm?” you hummed, your eyebrows lifting ever so slightly in curiosity.

“It’s definitely good…” he repeated, his words barely more than a breath.

You smiled then, a fleeting, gentle curve of your lips before your expression softened once more, your eyes large and unblinking.

Sunghoon fought to contain himself, the air between them thick with tension, every innocent thought he tried to hold onto slipping away. God, you were divine.

So pretty, it hurt.

You pulled the covers tighter around your chest, your hands disappearing beneath them. Just then, Sunghoon could feel your cool, slender fingers intertwining with his.

The touch seemed almost electric, almost overwhelming, as you slowly and carefully guided his hand down the length of your body, the soft fabric of your sleep shirt barely a barrier to the heat of your skin, which felt like a burn the moment you guided his hand beneath it.

His heart thundered in his chest, anticipation and desire warring within him, but he never broke eye contact.

Your gaze dared him, testing his resolve with a demure boldness that sent shivers down his spine.

His breath caught as your hand guided his lower, fingers brushing the waistband of your shorts. He watched your expression shift ever so subtly, your lips falling open the slightest bit more, your eyes darkening with something he couldn’t quite name, and yet the innocence remained.

Your head tilted back faintly, almost in a pleading nod when he pressed his fingers down to apply pressure, his palm settling on your lower belly. 

Feeling the warmth of your skin beneath his touch, the tension in the air was almost unbearable.

Finally, Sunghoon tore his gaze from yours, letting out a shaky breath as his head fell back onto the pillow you now shared, his hand slipping from your grasp.

You watched him, silent, your chest rising and falling with a matching intensity.

You were nervous, scared…? Excited?

Sunghoon raked a hand through his hair, a pained laugh escaping his lips as he groaned in frustration, draping a heavy arm across your waist.

“(Y/n)…” he whispered, your name like a prayer on his lips.

The bashful grin on his face failed to go away, he could feel the warmth of a fresh blush dancing across his cheeks and up to the tips of his ears.

You said nothing, simply turning your head away and closing your eyes, seeking solace in sleep, an escape from the tension threatening to suffocate you both.

Sunghoon lay still, staring into the dimness of the room, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts.

He tugged at the covers, fidgeting restlessly, squeezing his eyes shut in a desperate bid for sleep.

But the racing of his heart wouldn’t let him rest.

He sat up once more, needing air, needing water, needing…

And then, your eyes fluttered open as you looked up at him again. Without a word, you grabbed his chin, pulling him down into a kiss that stole his breath away.

Sunghoon’s heart nearly exploded, a small sound of surprise catching in his throat as he melted into the kiss, your soft hum of pleasure reverberating through him.

Suddenly you shifted, and it was Sunghoon lying on his back, your lips never leaving his until you broke away, straddling him with careful, deliberate movements, as if afraid of causing him harm.

His heart swelled with emotion as he gazed up at you, completely captivated by the girl who had just turned his world upside down.

“Did I keep you waiting…?” you whisper, expression filled with worry despite your rose dusted cheeks.

“So long… I waited so long.”, Sunghoon teased, squeezing the soft flesh of your thighs as you giggled softly and captured his lips again.

[rjunhuang]

OMG I FELL INTO A TIM DRAKE HOLE ONCE AGAIN AFTER READING YOUR BEAUTIFUL FIC AND NOW DEVOURING ONESHOTS ON AO3 LMAOO. I can send the links if you want to

OH ABSOLUTELY PLSPLSPLSPLS SHARW also i'm so honoured to be ur tim drake appreciation reawakening. i don't play about him

[rjunhuang]

ur tim fic actually healed something in me 😊💗 as a wasian wasian!tim is very real to me LMAO. i love ur acc, it's so spring core !!! i literally feel like im walking through a forest and stumbling across a little cottage it's so cute. moots ?!

I'M SOO GLAD IT DOES i've been on the wasian!tim boat for so long now, i'm practically captain. HAHA yeah that was the vibe i was going for !! pink + green <3 it's so spring core but ironically, i'm a total autumn girl. my blog is probably the exact opposite of my aesthetic but who cares ! cute is cute. BUT LETS TALK ABOUT UR BLOG 😍😍 i absolutely floored, everything about it is so creative. ur serving royalty realness. and ur a classics girlie?? I LOVE THAT. WE CAN ABSOLUTELY BE MOOTS OMG !! the more friends, the merrier

[rjunhuang]

hii! omg, i loved your "juliet, o juliet" fic! oh you write so wonderfully, i adored their banter <3 this led me to check out your blog and... an nctzen who's also into dc and hp?! you and i are like spiritual identical twins lmao (right down to being ace and s.asian 😄). can we be friends haha 😚

renjun is your ult, i'm guessing? who else is in your bias line? (* i ask while buzzing with excitement *)

I LOVE YOU ☹️ genuinely thank you everyone for the support, i was not expecting so many reblogs ?! and here i thought tumblr was dying..

HAHAH literally dc, hp and nct might be my holy trinity. i LOVE finding ppl w similar interests. I CAN'T BELIEVE UR ACE AND SOUTH ASIAN TOO what are the freaking odds — we might actually be long lost twins. OFC WE CAN BE FRIENDS !! my first friend here eee 😚

yessss renjun is my ult! i love him so bad, been his loyal stan since like 2018. he's also my top fancast for tim drake bc they're both up there for me. renjun's my number one bias ever from any dang group — the ULT of ults. but my other neo biases are (so many oh god) .. chenle, doyoung, taeyong, hendery, ten and a retired sungchan stan. help i'm still at the restaurant (nct 2020)

who are ur biases, meli, tell me all about urself !! c:

[rjunhuang]

Ur so real. Viet Tim is so real to me

ugh i love ppl who get me. tim drake has some east/south east asian blood in him. the fact that he's canonically just full white baffles me

since we're on this topic, here are ethnicities i headcanon the batfamily as !

bruce wayne — ethnically jewish, i don't think he actively practises.

dick grayson — romani.

jason todd — irish american.

cassandra cain — chinese or of chinese heritage whether from thailand, malaysia or singapore.

damian wayne — part chinese, saudi arabian or yemeni, and jewish.

[rjunhuang]

juliet, o juliet ✰ tim drake

pairing: tim drake x reader

summary: tim gets grounded so you take it upon yourself to get him out. the problem? he doesn't want to leave — he just wants you.

warnings: lowercase intended. fem reader. established relationship. reader is also a vigilante. making out. suggestive. tim is red robin. mention of jason's death. clingy tim.

note: i am his biggest fan. i felt so sinful writing them just MAKING OUT — must be the ace in me. fuck knows how old tim is in current canon but i imagine they're like nineteen in this. also, viet/wasian tim is so real to me — whenever people mention his blue eyes i get jumpscared.

divider by omi-resources | comments & reblogs are appreciated! <3

tim drake had always been the voice of reason.

being reckless was not in his nature. he was wired for precision and hypothesis. out of all his teammates, young justice or anywhere else, he was least likely to mess things up due to carelessness. in fact, tim drake cared too much.

it was exactly why he put himself on the frontlines this time — for the sake of the mission. for the safety of his team. if anyone needed to harmed, let it be him.

and while the mission ended in a success with red robin unscathed, bruce did not like what he came to hear. maybe it was the jason trauma kicking in, but bruce didn’t need his children playing the role of martyr.

so, for the first time in long while, tim was grounded.

no outings. no patrolling. no you.

his brothers took great pleasure in seeing the wayne child, whose image was all about being ‘orderly’, sulk in the confines of his bedroom. tim attempted to slip away many times, but living under a roof filled with security systems and other super-spies, it was harder to escape than arkham asylum in comparison. little damian had no problem reporting to their father if tim’s foot made it even a centimeter past the front door.

lucky for tim, he had a girlfriend who shared a mind of his own. breaking into the wayne manor was difficult — this was batman’s sanctuary, after all. you’d almost gotten your butt fried when hopping past a high voltage trip wire.

truthfully, you didn’t need to be doing all of this. you had access to most, if not every, part of the estate. you even had your assigned room there, whenever you decided to stay over. you were associated to the bats as closely as stephanie brown or barbara gordon. nevertheless, the idea of forcing your way into a place you could practically call your home sounded incredibly appealing for what was a dull wednesday night.

tim only noticed you perched out his windowsill when he heard a small tap on the glass, forcing him to peel his eyes away from his laptop. his personal laptop, of course — bruce knew tim’s biggest hobby was scrolling through the system files to crack any cases.

“nuh-uh.” tim begun to vigorously shake his head. “no. nope.” he pushed himself out of his chair, walking over to the window. “get out.” he hissed lowly, like he was shooing away a stray cat, fanning his hands. to be fair, you did look like one with the cheshire’s grin you held. when he realised you couldn't hear him through the glass, he unlatched it, leaving a crack wide.

tim’s reaction hadn’t faltered you in the slightest. you saw it coming, in fact. if bruce happened to catch you in his room — which was very possible — tim would be blessed to be un-grounded before thirty.

you took the open window as a chance to push your way into his room. your hop was light, feet soundless on the rich wooden floors. it’s been near a week since you’ve last seen your boyfriend. the longest separation since the time you met at the ripe age of fourteen. tim, who had all the strength to do so, doesn’t make an attempt to keep you out. despite all his protests, he was missing you a lot more than he currently let on.

you don’t pay mind to a single word he’s whisper-yelled. instead, planting your hands on his face, diving in to give him a gentle greet on the lips. he couldn’t say a damn thing once your lips landed on his.

his hands automatically found their usual position on your hips, instinctively pulling you closer as he kissed back. he was dying of withdrawal, his body reacted to you like he needed air. the kiss left you giddy, but you managed to pull yourself back before any one of you could lose the plot. staying put in tim’s hold, you asked, “sneak out with me?”

“this is a horrible idea��“ he muttered in a hushed tone. it was evident how badly he wanted to run away with you.

“oh, come on,” you begun, “he’s your dad. he’ll come around to forgive you a lot more easily than you think.” the tips of your fingers brush against tim’s pale face, pining the mere touch of him. it was a deal with the devil — for you were letting your heart get to you and not your head.

but, dammit. how did you making everything so enticing? you were a temptation that he absolutely could not resist.

with a groan, he leaned into your touch. he didn’t want to admit it out loud but he was caving. “he’s already pissed that i went against orders. this’ll just piss him off more,” he protested weakly, despite knowing that he was about to give into you anyway.

“please?” you pleaded, with a weak attempt of what people called ‘puppy eyes’. you leaned in closer to brush your lips against his. “i miss you.”

you had him wrapped around your damn finger — the second those three words left your lips, it was over. his will to resist was crumbling by the second. tim sighed, giving your lower lip a small and playful bite. “you’re the bane of my existence.”

you raised your eyebrows. “isn’t that a bridgerton quo—“ your comment is smothered by another kiss.

tim’s hands shifted to your thighs to lift you up, guiding you to wrap your legs around his waist. he pressed you against the wall of his room, returning the kiss with fervor. his fingers curled into the fabric of your clothes, clinging to you tightly. “shut up and kiss me.” he breathed against your lips.

your bodies are reacting before your brains do. clearly, the days spent apart had been driving tim up a wall as well. “wait, wait, wait.” you giggled against his lips, “we’re supposed to be sneaking out, not making out.”

tim only groaned when you interrupted the kiss, burying his face into your shoulder. he was so close to completely abandoning the idea of sneaking off to just kiss you until the sun came up. “c’mon,” he whined, “sneaking out is overrated, let’s just stay here and make out instead.”

“gods— you are such an introvert.” said the other introvert — yourself. you rested your head against the wall, absentmindedly playing with the black tufts of hair on tim’s nape. his eyes fluttered momentarily at the feeling of you playing with hair, a small, content hum rumbling in the back of his throat. “i really wanted to go for the whole romeo and juliet aesthetic. except, i’m romeo and i’m trying to get you out and have your father’s approval.”

he raised his head to roll his eyes in an overdramatic effect, though a smile pulled at the corner of his lips while listening to your rambling. “you do know they both die at the end, right?” he teased before pressing another kiss against your collarbone, trailing his lips up towards your jaw. “besides, you’d be the worst romeo,” he said with a gentle nip.

“what?” you dramatically yelped, offended. “would not. i’d totally drink poison for you, or however the play goes. juliet, oh, juliet — let down your hair.”

the sudden and rather loud outburst had tim immediately cupping a hand over your mouth, muffling your next sing-song remarks. “be. quiet,” he said with a small laugh. “you’ll get us caught, dumbass.” he couldn’t help but shake his head slightly. “see? terrible romeo, i’m doing all the work.”

but you weren’t really listening anymore, your eyes narrowing into a knowing, dirty-minded look. the smirk you were currently sporting was enough for tim to get the message. the small smile on his face betrayed the false annoyance, “pervert.” he mumbled, lowering his hand from your mouth to rest it on your hip instead.

“you like this pervert.”

“not the words that come out of that mouth.”

“i can think of other ways to use this mouth.”

“oh, yeah?”

“i can use it,” you paused for dramatic effect, and in a blink, you’re swinging off of tim’s grip, “to eat a good ol’ hotdog at our nearest bodega.” you said the line like a narrator straight out a 60’s commercial.

“you little—“ he started, his hand flailing outwards in a pathetic attempt to grab you again. you snickered at his reaction, too busy collecting your backpack that you slipped off in passing earlier. tim was still pouting like a child as he slumped back against the wall. you took a step closer and swung an arm across his shoulder, dragging him with you to his window.

“a shitty pizza slice sounds so good right now.” he couldn’t help but let out a soft snort of laughter at your excitement for shitty bodega pizza.

tim’s only response was to let out a small smile, muttering, “alright, let’s go get our shitty pizza, then—”

[rjunhuang]

Tension

Pairing: Danny Rand x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of injuries

Word Count: 4.5K

Summary: What happens when Iron Fist takes an interest in an undercover agent? (I’m so bad at summaries and Titles please forgive me)

A/N: This has been sitting incompleted in my drafts for like months and I finally got the energy and ideas to finish it. I feel accomplished.

It made sense that you and Danny never crossed paths. You were just a S.H.I.E.L.D agent and he was part of the superhero program. Even though you were similar in age, you didn’t attend the same school and you had no skills in common so you never saw each other during training.

You were born into being a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, growing up on the Helicarrier and training your entire life to be an undercover agent. You spent your days with different names and different personas, gathering intel and you were more skilled using weapons and gadgets than actual hand-to-hand combat, while he was parading around the city in a spandex suit.

You, of course, had heard of him but only by the name Iron Fist, and you had never seen him in person.

And it would have remained that way if you hadn’t gotten shot on your last mission. Even though it missed anything vital and the surgery had been a success, you were still told not to do anything that might agitate it for the next 3 months.

So, that was how you got transferred from the undercover agent assignments to team strategist department.

“But I don’t want to be in strategies!” You complained, stubbornly following Fury around the Helicarrier as he desperately tried to get away from you.

“Strategies is for boring people! Like Coulson!” You shouted ignoring Coulson’s offended ‘Hey!’, practically throwing a tantrum in the middle of the training room.

“And more importantly, you gave my assignment to that bitch, Lia?! I’ve been gathering contacts for that mission for around a year and you want me to just hand it over to that lazy piece of shit who would rub it in my face even if she never did anything for the mission?!”

That finally made Fury turn around to face you and you sighed in relief, hoping he would at least listen to you.

“Agent Coulson, make sure that every time (Y/N) swears, 50 bucks is cut down from this month’s pay check.”

You threw him a foul glare.

“You will be transferred to strategies in a week—”

“But I don’t want to—”

“Under the superhero programme—”

“Those pyjama freaks—?!”

“End. Of. Discussion.”

You glared at him so coldly, it could have frozen hell over. Your nails were digging painfully into the palm of your hand but you barely felt it through your anger.

You practically growled, pulling out a 50-dollar bill from your pocket and slamming it onto Coulson’s desk.

“MOTHER F—”

***

The first time you met a member of the team wasn’t one that you had expected. It was a month and a half into your recovery and you had written numerous mission reports on behalf of them and reset the programming of their training bots after each practice session but you still hadn’t met any of them.

The time you were taking to recover was driving you crazy. It made you feel weak. 2 months ago, you were in Barcelona, undercover as an underaged bartender for a mafia gang and now you were going to physiotherapy every week.

Since you were young and Fury didn’t want to take the change of you permanently injuring yourself, he was being very strict about what you could do, he basically confined you to a desk job for the next 2 months.

It was driving you mad.

So, one day when everyone was asleep, you snuck into the training area to practice shooting which you were sure had gone a little rusty since the accident. Nothing a little practice couldn’t help.

You picked up your favourite gun, smiling at the familiarity in your hand, loading it and clicking the safety off before pointing at the target and shooting.

The next thing you felt was excruciating pain. So painful that you were on the floor, pressing your forehead against the cold metal, wondering why this was happening to you.

The rebound of the gun had been too powerful for your arm to take. You felt your injury pull suddenly and you couldn’t think of anything other than the blinding pain as you cried on the floor. Feeling utterly helpless.

“Hello?”

You started, teary eyes getting wide at the sight of a blonde by the door. You had to wipe your eyes for your vision to focus, grunting in pain as you raised your arms again.

You recognized Iron Fist. You had been seeing footage of him and his team members for the last few weeks and writing mission reports about him but seeing him in person was a different feeling.

You hid your face, pulling your knees to your chest, hoping he would leave.

“I heard a gunshot.”

“Yeah,” Your voice cracked embarrassingly, “That was me.” 

“Everything alright?” He came closer to you, standing a foot away from you and you shook your head no.

In all honesty, you wanted to get off the floor and go back to bed, but your arm burned so painfully you were scared to move it again.

“Here, let me help.”

You froze, but still let him raise his hand towards you. You saw his palm light up before he pressed it to your shoulder and you whimpered, shuffling away from him but he continued to apply a gentle pressure.

Soon you felt the pain get better, it slowly reduced to a dull buzz.

“H-How did you do that?” You asked, turning to him with wide eyes and he chuckled, seeing the childish wonderment. You clearly had never seen him in person before even if he had seen you.

Danny noticed you the day he had joined S.H.I.E.L.D. You were returning from yet another mission and the soft blue dress you were wearing among armoured soldiers was hard to miss when he passed the debriefing room. Immediately, he stopped to peer inside.

The contrast between the soft summer dress and your cold, professional expressions sent a shiver down his spine. You looked so untouchable. However, he noticed the blush on your face when the agents complimented you and felt his heart flutter.

He had seen your road to recovery, he noticed you falling asleep at your desk every day, constantly doing work because you had nothing else to do and he wondered if it would be weird if he asked you to lunch sometime. For your sake, of course.

Looking at you curled up on the ground, he had wished he had done it sooner.

“You shouldn’t strain yourself before you’re ready.” He muttered, feeling tongue tied next to the girl he had been infatuated with from a distance.

You could only nod. This whole-time people had been telling you the same thing and you always retorted with confidence, saying that you were as good as ready to get back on the field. Never in your wildest dreams would you have thought they were right.

“I’m Iron Fist.”

“(Y/N).”

“I know.” His answer came a little too fast and had you raising a brow. Danny wished he adorned a mask to cover the whole of his face like Spiderman when he felt his cheeks becoming warm, “You write our mission reports. I’m not creepy, I swear.”

You chuckled airily, turning back to the gun that was left on the ground and you pulled it back into your hand before clicking the safety back on before chucking it across the room.

“Thanks for helping me.” 

“I’m glad I was there to help.”

***

After your first meeting, you found him approaching you more often after training. At first it was just ‘hello’s and ‘goodbyes. Then he began asking about your day and you gave him mundane responses before you were forced to ask him how his day was.

Then he started coming early before his training with a cup of tea for you, though it was sometimes juice, sometimes hot cocoa.

Then he started staying late after training and you would give him a bottle of water and complain about him being sweaty.

It was an unlikely friendship but nonetheless, you got closer as the days passed by and once you did, it didn’t take long for you to meet the rest of the team. They kept you company and you grew fond of the rest of them; however, it wasn’t the same way that you felt with Iron Fist.

Your crush on Iron Fist snuck up on you when you were least expecting it but once you realized it you couldn’t stop yourself from falling hard and deep. Still, you continued to hang out with him, pushing down the butterflies whenever he smiled and stopping yourself from grinning too wide whenever you were around him.

You tried to keep your relationship platonic, not wanting to get caught up in it because it was unprofessional. You didn’t even know his identity and you didn’t want to find out. You were afraid that once he revealed that part of his life to you there was no going back on your love for him.

So, you stayed friends, good friends.

***

“So, it all blew up in her face? Huh, I should say I’m surprised but I’m really not.” You said, sighing when Fury handed you the mission file that you had been working on for a year before handing it off to another agent.

“You get to relieve her of her duties and start working again. Effective as of next week.”

You were grinning now. The doctor had given you the all clear a month ago and you had been waiting for a mission to be handed off to you but it had been a quiet month, with no need for undercover or even recon missions.

To get back the mission that you lost when you got shot seemed like the best one to start off again, and you thought your day couldn’t get any better but it seemed like you were having an incredibly good day.

As soon as you exited the room, there stood Iron Fist in all his glory and your excitement got better of you. You bolted right into his arms, catching him off guard with a hug.

“Woah, did something happen?” He asked curiously but still wrapped his arms around you to return the hug. You pulled away, flashing him the mission file in your hand and grinned brightly.

“I finally got cleared for a mission!”

“Congratulations!”

“Thank you! I’m so excited! I have to go and prepare right away!”

“Wha—Right now?” He asked and you nodded frantically, “I’m off in about a week, lots to prepare before that.”

“Well, how long is it going to take?”

“Not sure, oooh, maybe I’ll get relocated someplace cool like Dubai or India or something.”

He didn’t seem to share your enthusiasm but just chuckled in a dejected sort of manner before nodding his head, “Maybe.”

***

“Partner? Fury, I don’t do partners. I am a single lady and would like to stay that way.”

He just sighed, used to your temper tantrums. Though he was honestly wishing he had a mute button on you. You were like the daughter he never wanted. Usually, he maintained a professional relationship with all the other agents but you were like the gem of the department.

Being one of the youngest and most capable of the agents was a reason for many of the older ones to fawn over you. I mean let’s be honest, a baby who can kick ass was adorable!

That always made you more outrageous than the other agents, letting yourself have the temper tantrums and choosing not to be a stiff, boring agent. You knew just how to push Fury to get what you wanted.

“The mission is to go to a socialite party and while you have the skills, you don’t have the contact.”

“That hasn’t stopped me before—”

“We need someone that has the last name to get you in. Besides, after last time, another agent looking after you wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”

Your face fell and Fury knew he made a mistake in choosing his words. Your lip quivered slightly and he heard an agent tut disapprovingly at him and mentally sighed.

“That wasn’t my fault…” You said softly, your voice seemed thick and he knew one wrong move could possibly break the floodgate. He sighed, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, “I know that. But we just want you to be safe. Just in case something goes wrong again, so this time somebody can have your back.”

You nodded sadly, lips in a small pout and eyebrows furrowed. Somewhere in the background he heard another agent whispering to another that Fury was trying to make you cry and felt his eye twitch.

“No one blames you for what happened.”

You nodded wordlessly again, still frowning.

“Tell you what, because it’s your first mission back, you get a higher budget for it.” That was it. Your face brightened like the sun and you giggled childishly, sending him a mischievous smirk as you thanked him.

You disappeared before he could even scold you and Fury then heard the rest of the agents burst into laughter about how you managed to play him.

Again.

***

“Daniel Rand.” You mumbled, looking over the case file. Apparently, he would be your partner for today but it was odd that you never heard of him before. It took you a very short time going through the S.H.I.E.L.D. database to find his name.

‘Daniel Rand, a.k.a. Iron Fist.’

‘WHAT?!’

Daniel Rand? The blond aristocrat that looked like he was picked out of your wildest dreams. With a face that could break hearts and make knees weak, was the confidant and friend that you had been crushing on for weeks now?

Wow, he definitely had a face to match.

Without realizing, you had been staring at his picture for about 5 minutes, fawning over his sharp jaw and deep green eyes with a ridiculous love-sick smile on your face, with your heart fluttering in your chest.

‘God, please, like me.’ You said in your head. So far you had sort of a flirtationship going on with Iron Fist but you wondered if it was the same for Danny. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would intentionally lead you on, but now that you were seeing his face, you realized just how little you knew about him.

He probably had a life of his own and you took up only a sliver of it. Being an agent, you didn’t leave the Helicarrier very often, and you certainly didn’t have too many very friends. You never really realized how much you were missing until you got shot.

Iron Fist, well Daniel, filled the void you felt during your time off but it was also very possible that he didn’t feel the same way, that you were just someone he spent time with to get over his boredom.

Maybe tonight would be the time to change that.

The mission was supposed to take place today, so you woke up bright and early to finish up some things. Go over case files, do a weapon check and pick out your outfit. You were supposed to wear something that would catch people’s attention. And in the back of your head, you also wanted to blow Daniel’s mind right out of his skull.

Red seemed like it would make a statement. So would a bodycon, or maybe a long dress with a high slit. You wanted to go all out for your first mission in months. Maybe even get a few jaw drops.

Finally deciding on an outfit, you quickly texted Daniel.

‘Wear (F/C).’

***

“This guy is coming right?” You asked, bored. You had been ready for about 15 minutes now, looking like you were dripping diamonds and lounging comfortably in Fury’s seat, with your legs thrown over the armrest.

“He’ll be here any minute now.” Said Coulson, checking his phone.

You rolled your eyes, “Why do I feel like this is one of those movie moments where the girl comes down the stairs and the guy is just staring at her with a jaw drop. Or like when the bride walks down the aisle and the groom bursts into tears.”

You sighed, checking your watch again. 20 minutes.

“For someone making me wait this long, he better be so good looking that it makes me cry.”

“Well, I hope I don’t disappoint.”

The new voice certainly turned a few heads and there stood Daniel Rand. The pictures online really did him no justice. Sure, you didn’t cry, but your eyes definitely didn’t feel worthy to be looking something so pretty in the eye.

Before you could help it, a ‘wow’ slipped past your lips and he blushed, having heard you. Wow, he was cute inside and out. Unfortunately, Coulson had to come in where he wasn’t wanted and suggested a quick briefing which you had to agree to.

In the middle of the briefing, Coulson handed you a ring box and you raised a brow, “I’m a little young for you, don’t you think?”

He let out an irritated sigh but you noticed the tips of his ears turn red from embarrassment, “You’re posing as his fiancé. You need an engagement ring to match.”

“Shouldn’t he be getting on his knee then?” You joked, gaping at the size of the diamond for a second before slipping it on, completely missing the way Danny got redder at your teasing, “Wow, it suits me so well one would think I was made to be a socialite’s fiancé.”

Danny didn’t say anything and you brushed it off, putting him off as the shy but cute bookworm who would come through in a difficult situation. As soon as the thought came to mind, you facepalmed. All it took was one good looking guy to mess up your work habits.

“Well, come on honey, we have a party to get to.” You called out teasingly and handed him the keys to the car before strutting to the garages.

Coulson clapped him on the back with a small smirk on his face, “Good luck, honey.”

***

It didn’t take much effort to meet your contact in the party and you quickly left Danny’s side to discreetly to get any information he could pass to you. You quietly chatted with the contact.

Behind you, you vaguely heard a bunch of girls flock around him, giggling shrilly and trying to flirt with him. You resisted rolling your eyes. You had on an engagement ring but Danny’s finger was still bare and even though he might have announced being taken to them, apparently it was necessary for a ring to show his commitment. Something told you that even if he got it tattooed on his forehead, people would still try to flirt with him.

He just had one of those faces. Those faces that made people lose all reason. I mean, you’re slightly annoyed at the girls that have no moral and are shamelessly throwing themselves at him. But really, can you blame them?

Danny was gorgeous. He looked like a Greek Adonis that was sent down from the heavens to grace your eyes. Honestly, you couldn’t take your eyes off him while the two of you were driving down to the party.

Seeing them get handsy was more irritating than It usually would be. As annoying as it was to see these women through all their morals out the window and try and get a taken man to reciprocate their advances, it was more annoying to see them gawk over the guy you were crushing on.

A part of you wanted to just leave him in the car and not have anybody look at him.

But to keep your crush a secret, you maintained your distance from him, talking to the contact in a mixture of different languages so no one would be able to understand. Once you were done, you opted for getting a drink until you saw the pleading look on his face and almost felt bad.

So, you sauntered over to him, cutting right through the throng of girls, disgusted to see that some of them had wedding rings on, right to Danny’s side, snaking an arm around his waist and placing your hand underneath on his chest, giving him a sweet smile.

The shiny engagement ring on your finger caught their attention and they frowned, reminded that they were allowed to look, but not to touch.

“I hope you didn’t miss me too much.” You said, syrupy sweet and loud enough for the girls to hear before turning to them with a charming smile, “I hope my fiancé wasn’t too short with you girls today, he’s very stressed lately, with the wedding planning and all.”

Their faces fell further when you leaned into him and they could all recognize the possessive glint in your eyes. A look that said, I saw you trying to get your hands on something that was mine, you vultures.

The left you two quickly after that, resorting to go gossip in some corner. You wondered if they were snivelling about you but then realized that you shouldn’t be too cocky.

Instead, you turned your unamused gaze to your ‘fiancé’, pulling away from him with a frown.

“I’m assuming that you haven’t come here to flirt with someone else’s wife.”

“I wasn’t flirting though…” He replied innocently and you pursed your lips, resisting the urge to scowl at him. Instead, you just sighed and turned away from him, keeping an eye on the rest of the guests.

If what you were told is true, then someone is going to attempt an assassination on your contact and it was your job to protect him. However, you were distracted once more when he placed a hand on your waist.

You meant to turn around and ask him what he was doing but his grip was strong and he then pressed his lips to your ear. You froze, neck getting uncomfortably hot.

“At the entrance to the foyer.” He mumbled, looking into the mirror that was facing the entrance. Sure, enough you saw it too, the glint that came from the shadows. Someone was there.

The two of you still managed to stay inconspicuous, pretending like you were a couple in love. You turned to him with a smirk, hand going to your thigh where a gun was holstered.

“What do you say about getting out of here?”

With a hand around your waist, he led you to the other end of the room. Just as you expected, a waiter came up to you, trying to guide you elsewhere and you realized that both exits were covered. Grinning up at him, you asked him where the restroom was, giggling in a way that suggested something and he showed you up to the staircase to a hallway. 

Some of the older couples gave you knowing smiles while some of them passed disgusted glances as you made your way to the bathroom that for some reason had a couch in it. Damn, rich people.

You pulled up a schematic of the house, along with security cameras and looked figured out that each one of the exits were covered. Quickly making a plan with Danny, the two of you were about to exit again when you stopped him

You reached up and raked your fingers through his hair, dishevelling it a little before messing up his collar and slightly untucking his shirt. Taking a step back to admire your handiwork, you stopped for a second.

Something was missing.

It quickly occurred to you and you used your thumb to ruin your lipstick a little before smearing it at the base of his neck, “That should be convincing enough. Don’t you think?”

You didn’t give him a moment to answer, not that he even could, with you so close that he could smell your perfume and the scent made him feel dizzy. You pulled away to mess up your own hair and dress.

“How do I look?”

“Dishevelled.”

“Excellent.”

***

“Mission successful, assassination attempt was unsuccessful, contact is safe and being placed into witness protection, assassinators are in custody for questioning. Report 291220. Agent 290803. Phase Beta successful.” You reported into the com set.

Danny was quiet beside you, choosing to pay attention to the road while you deactivated your gadgets for the night. A quick glance from the corner of your eyes made your heart speed up just a little. He was doing that thing where he drove with just one arm.

“You know…” You started, clicking the safety on your gun, avoiding his eyes, “We don’t have to go back to HQ right now? We can get some dinner or something? In the mood for a veggie burger?”

“Is this meant to be platonic?”

“It’s meant to be a date.” You commented. His jaw tightened slightly and you raised a brow at him, did you really make him so uncomfortable?

“I thought you were in a relationship.”

“What?”

“Iron Fist. You like him, don’t you?”

An amused chuckle left you. Of course. He didn’t know you were aware of his secret. Resisting the urge to laugh at him, you shot him a smirk, leaning against your arm.

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Danny’s hands tightened around the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. He didn’t look at you, instead staring at the road with a steely gaze and for a second you wondered if you shouldn’t have pushed him.

“It’s a little hypocritical of you to nag me for not being loyal in a fake engagement and then going behind Iron Fist’s back, don’t you think?”

His voice was tight and he was gritting his teeth as he talked to you. You sighed, not wanting to upset him, “Not when you’re the same person.”

He jerked.

“Woah! Drive straight dude!”

“You knew?”

You snorted, “Pretty much, yeah. And since when are we in a relationship? I don’t remember you ever asking me out?”

His cheeks coloured, embarrassed and he looked away from your gaze, “I was planning to.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You continued in a comfortable silence while he drove. You weren’t really paying attention to where he was driving, choosing to look at him with a small smile. He really was beautiful. Judging by his red ears, he was well aware of your staring.

Eventually, he pulled into a parking space and you were mildly surprised to see he had driven you to a McDonalds. You grinned at him and he returned the smile, getting out of the car to open your door before taking your hand.

“You owe me a date.”

You sent him a soft smile, curling your finger underneath his chin before pulling him in for a gentle kiss. He returned it immediately, slightly pushing you onto the car door and gripping your hips. You pulled away, giggling when you realized some of your lipstick was now staining his.

Chuckling, you leaned up until your lips were brushing against his ear, “Hey genius, you still haven’t asked me out yet.”

Forever Taglist: @simonsbluee

USM Taglist: @imcarolinashannon

[rjunhuang]

also, since i am currently writing for harry potter, i want to make it clear that i do not support jk rowling! as a genderqueer person myself, you will not catch me liking any transphobe. i've never given that terf a dime and never will.

[rjunhuang]

care ✰ george weasley, fred weasley

pairing: george weasley x reader, fred weasley x reader

summary: when banter and boredom leaves to love confessions, you're painfully forced to reject george for his own good. after all, he can't know that you love his twin brother just as much.

warnings: lowercase intended. implied fem reader. george centric. the twins & reader are best friends. bittersweet ending. love triangle? slightly infuriating to read. angst, hurt. dramatic corny dialouge. mentions of kissing.

note: i don't usually like to write this much but i had an epiphany. sorry if the writing progressively gets shittier. anyways i'm weasley twins girlie till i die — i could genuinely never pick a fave lol.

divider by enchanthings | comments & reblogs are appreciated! <3

george weasley was always a hell of a flirt. he could charm a brick wall if he wanted to. it was simply the way he was programmed — at least, you'd always thought his coquetries were mere acts of adding flavour to a conversation during all your years of knowing him. he wasn't actually trying to make advances, only just spicing up his own personality. it was all part of the weasley charisma. 

george thought he'd been making his feelings abundantly clear. your shared longing yet understanding looks. your quiet moments together where he'd keep a comforting arm wrapped around you. if it wasn't so obvious, why were there romantic speculations on the two of you? sure, in a school full of hormonal teenagers away from home, even the slightest interaction could brew gossip, but still! enough was enough, george had thought. if he had to be upfront about his love for you — he'd start now. 

"i feel like you've read that before. am i wrong, or is this your second go at it?" he made himself comfortable as he slumped down on the chair opposite to you in the castle's library. despite your intense focus on the thick book in your palms, he used his chin to give a nod towards it.

your eyes don't peel away from the page, running through the inked lines like they're fast paced lyrics in a karaoke booth. you can tell it's one of the ginger twins, judging by the voice and their tendency to disrupt your moments of peace. "third, actually." you corrected, despite your engrossed demeanour that made it look like it was your first read. 

he stifled a laugh, his eyes sparkling with genuine amusement. your rivetted state was a humourous sight for him. he leaned back in his chair, regarding you with a new respect. "fascinating." he drawled, pretending to look at the pages.

obviously, you saw through his little charade. the twins were good enough friends to care about your interests, but books with never their forte. too much engagement indicated they were up to no good. you looked up from your book to frown over at him. so it was george you were speaking to. "and why are you here?" the book, which you had been leaning against the edge of the table and your lap, was now placed on the table in front of you. "where's the other devil?" you were referring to fred, of course. 

george chuckled at your question, the sound soft and amused. "oh, don't worry. fred's off somewhere plotting some other mischief. we don't always have to be glued at the hip." he reached out, picking up a stray quill someone had carelessly left behind and idly twirled it between his fingers. "can't a bloke just come visit the library to enjoy the atmosphere?" he asked, his tone oozing innocence.

you raised an eyebrow suspiciously, watching his nonchalant manner. "right. hiding in plain sight from filch, is it? or scheming something new?" you countered, hoping to hit bullseye. "you're never here unless it's for a prank."

george feigned offence at your accusation, pressing a hand to his chest dramatically. "me? scheming? no, never." his expression remained pure, but his eyes betrayed a hint of mischief. he leaned on the desk with his elbows, his gaze fixed on you. "maybe i just came to enjoy the view. and i don't mean the dusty old books."

you snorted dryly, clearly unamused by his blatant flirtation. you looked back down onto your book, resuming your reading. though, it was hard to focus when george was across, staring like you were a moving portrait of the mona lisa. george noticed your attempt to refocus, but he wasn't ready to give up that easily. he enjoyed the challenge, your unresponsiveness only fueling his determination. 

"you know," he begun, twirling the quill in his fingers again, "books are all well and good, but they don't respond. they don't talk back." he tapped the quill against the table, the sound barely above a whisper.

"are you bored, george?" you asked, lifting your head back up again. your tone was sharp, playfully irritated by his interruptions.

george met your honed tone with a lazy grin, unfazed by your annoyance. he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, all casual charm. "maybe a bit," he confessed, his tone unapologetic. "reading's not my thing. i prefer a bit more — action." his gaze flicked down your form, then back up to meet your eyes, not even trying to hide his interest anymore.

you took a moment to process his words. george and fred weren't new to flirting with you, but this, especially coming from the younger twin, was too upfront. you looked around them — if there were any spectators, you'd assume he's completing a dare. when you found no one, except a few academics preoccupied in their textbooks, you looked back at george. "are you on amortentia?" 

george's eyes widened at your question, genuinely surprised. "merlin's beard, no," he chuckled. "if i were on that love potion, i'd be confessing my 'undying' love for some broomstick or something." he leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "no, i assure you, i'm completely in control of my own thoughts here. and what i'm thinking right now is, you're really bloody difficult."

"difficult?" you repeated, almost laughing. you smirked, "and why do you say that?"

george's smirk matched yours, though his eyes held a hint of something almost like curiosity. "well," he started, his tone still casual, "for one, most girls would've been swooning by now." he lifted a hand, counting off on his fingers. "you've been sarcastic, ignored me, insulted me, and now you're laughing at me. that's pretty difficult, wouldn't you say?"

"i'm sorry," you started, placing a hand on your chest and batting your eyelashes, "you want me to swoon? i didn't know that's what you wanted. you should've just said so." you ironically went on with a ditzy charade.

george couldn't help but laugh, his eyes lighting up with genuine mirth. "oh, there you go. that was a pretty good attempt." he gave an approving nod, enjoying this little back-and-forth. "but no, i don't actually need you to swoon. that's just what most girls do, you know?" his gaze lingered on you, the humour replaced with intensity. 

"well, fabian, i've grown susceptible to your antics having been stuck with you for several years now." 

george chuckled at your comment, the sound warm and familiar. "right. i'd forgotten i'm just old news to you at this point." he feigned a look of mock despair, clutching at his heart. "i've lost my charm! how will i ever recover?"

"so what?" you said, a smile on your lips. you've clearly lost interest in your book, keeping the conversation with george going. "why do you need me to fall for your serenading when you have everyone else?"

george's grin widened at question. "you mean the legions of admirers i have? well, they're easy. not much of a challenge."

you chuckled at his words. despite his exaggeration, the twins truly did have their fair share of fans. they were good looking and outgoing — how couldn't they? "or maybe," you started, leaning in, "i have the decency to remain platonic with my best friend."

"oh, the 'decency'? is that what it is?" he teased, leaning in as well. "here i was, thinking you just couldn't handle me," he joked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "but you're probably right. if i had the chance, though — i'd kiss you senseless."

your mouth fell at his words. how could he emphatically admit such a thing? you couldn't tell if this was a funny flirtation taken up a notch or an outright confession.

his smirk turned into a full-blown smile. "oh, are you speechless already? i'm not joking, you know. i might be a plonker, but i'm not lying. i'd love to kiss you senseless."

your expression glitched as you collect yourself together. you glanced down at your book again and grumbled, "if this is a declaration of love, it's an awful one."

"oh, come on. you know me. i'm no poet. i can't recite a fancy verse and make it sound beautiful." he rested his chin in his hand, his smile softening. "but i can be honest." he gaze remained locked on yours, his next words more serious. "this isn't a joke, and it's not a prank. i'm not good with words, but i'm trying, for you."

"you've always been good with words." you're quick to correct him with a soft smile.

george huffed at your comment, though the edge is gone from his expression. "not the right words, apparently."

"what are you trying to say, george?" you prodded, your eyebrows knitting together. you weren't oblivious, but you needed him to come forth since he'd already made it this far.

he paused then, gathering his thoughts. "what i'm trying to say is — i fancy you. i have for a while, probably longer than i even realized." he shrugged, his casual facade dropping for just a moment.

your eyes glimmered as you watched him say his truth. it's intimate and quiet and the total opposite of how you ever imagined he'd confess. the twins were always about grandeur. the thought of fred deepened your frown.

it was unfair. the twins were so different in your eyes. there was always this ongoing joke between the three of you — who was the most handsome twin? who was the favourite? a constant, lighthearted competition to gain that title. you'd always brush them off, saying you didn't choose favourites. and while you'd say it with a smile, the truth wasn't far fetched. truly and selfishly, you could never pick. falling in love with the both of them was a cruel price to pay for the trio's friendship. 

you knew that if you were to choose one, you'd greedily just continue to love the other. that was a burden you wouldn't dare to bring to the table. living in denial of any romantic feelings felt like the best solution.

you glanced away, avoiding george's eyes. "i — george, it's a little complicated on my end." you vaguely explained.

george noticed the shift in your expression, the way your gaze averted from his. he leaned back in his seat, a hint of understanding in his eyes. "care to enlighten me, or am i supposed to guess?" he was trying to keep it light, but there was a strain behind his words.

"it's—" you looked back at george with a flash of vulnerability, as if your eyes wanted to scream the truth out. i'm greed incarnate! i love you, george. and i know that i love fred just as much. "it's not that easy."

"i never said it was easy," he said softly. "but i'm asking you to try. to be honest." he paused, his next words said carefully. "is there — someone else?"

you'd always had a weakness to george. since they were young, george was the one you always found yourself opening up to. he was easy to talk to. there were several nights where he'd pleaded you to unbolt, helped you stop bottling up your own issues and insecurities. his question made you freeze and you prayed to merlin he didn't catch it. you bit down on your lip, your eyes downcast.

he knew you better than you though, he noticed every subtle movement, every change in your expression. he leaned in further, his voice a mere whisper, almost begging, "answer me, please." he couldn't deny to himself the twinge of pain in his heart if you were to say yes, but he needed to know the truth, the whole truth.

"george, i can't love you the way you want me to." you decided to say, using all your courage to look him in the face. your expression is sympathetic. you weren't denying your feelings but you certainly weren't accepting of them either. hesitantly, you reached out for his hand on the table, holding it tenderly as if to soften the blow.

george looked back at you, his expression a mixture of surprise and confusion. he felt your hand on his, your touch soft but cautious. "you — can't?" he repeated his voice strangely calm. "can't, or won't?" his gaze fell to your fingers on his hand. "there's a difference, you know."

"it won't change the outcome." you whispered out, tears building up in your eyes as you tilted your head to the side.

george let out a sigh, his shoulders drooping. his fingers tightened around yours, not wanting to let go yet. "so, you're telling me," his voice was thick with emotion, "that you do have feelings for me, but you're choosing to ignore them? i'm right here, trying to let you in. and you're saying it's pointless because you've made up your mind?"

your eyes flew shut, as if accepting your fate. of course, george caught on. he was smart and ever so emotionally intelligent. he knew what you were saying without you even saying it. your eyes opened up once again as you begun your beseeches. "please, just let us go back to how things were. it's easier that way for the both of us."

george looked at you, his expression a mix of frustration and pain. "how things were?" he repeated, a bitter laugh escaping him. "you want us to go back to being what? friends? because that's what we are, right? just — friends." his gaze locked onto yours, holding a hint of desperation. "you seriously think that's easier? act as though my feelings don't exist? as though i can just shove them back down and pretend everything's fine?"

you pulled your hand back, his reply leaving you anxious. he had all the right to be angry at your request. it would've been a lot simpler if you couldn't return the feelings and just outright reject him. but knowing that you did like him, but didn't want to, confused the hell out of him. regardless, it still hurt. you hated it as much as he did. he didn't know that you were only trying to be fair for his sake. "if you want some time, i'll give you that." you said instead, averting your gaze again.

george watched as you pulled your hand away, a pang of hurt in his chest. he ran a hand through his hair, frustration and hurt etched across his face. "time," he muttered, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "what good is time going to do? it's not going to change how i feel about you, and clearly, it's not going to change how you feel about me. so what, i'm just supposed to wait around, hoping you'll change your mind?"

"i'm not saying that." you hissed, your eyes snapping back to him, your own exasperation building up. you tried not to make a scene — they were in a library after all. "you can move on. i'm not asking you to pathetically stick around — i'm not cruel."

george let out a scoff, his anger mixing with disbelief at your words. "you're telling me to just move on, like it's simple as that? do you have any idea how hard that's going to be? i can't just switch off my feelings. it's not like flicking a bloody light switch." 

you ran a hand down your hair, tension building up from the situation. "i don't know what you want from me, but i certainly can't give you the relationship you need." you spat out honestly.

george looked at you with resignation. "i know you can't, alright? you've made that painfully clear." he ran a hand over his face, his expression tight with restrained emotion. "but you don't get to act like it's easy for me to accept that. to just move on and forget about my feelings for you. you don't get to decide that for me."

there's a moment where you quietly just processed his words. he had a point — this wasn't a situation which called for your perfectionism. feelings were messy, but oh so human and necessary. "i'm sorry." you admitted. your tone was soft again, anger no longer evident. "that wasn't my intention. i just— don't want to ruin things between us. you mean a lot to me, okay?" george looked at you, his own features softening as he heard your genuine remorse. "my stupidity on this whole thing isn't worth risking the bond we have. six years worth of friendship."

he let out a sigh, his vexation slowly cooling down. "i get that." he said, a hint of vulnerability in his voice. "and you're right. we have something good here. you're my best friend — one of my closest friends." he paused, his gaze still on you. "i don't want to lose that either."

you sent him a gentle smile in return. slowly, you got up from your chair, walking closer to his side of the table. "i care for you." when in reality, you wanted to say 'i love you'. your arms were wide open, offering a hug. he rose from his seat as well, accepting your affection. he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against him tightly.

he buried his face into the crook of your neck, his breath warm as he muttered, "i care for you, too." there was a hint of longing in his voice; the undertone of 'more than care'.

[rjunhuang]

always the prefects bathroom - harry potter

summary: despite harry potter's presence in the prefects bathroom, you aren't stopped from taking a soothing bath wc: 1016 cw: making out, like super brief handjob it doesn't really count

You hadn’t expected the prefects’ bathroom to be occupied, hence the reason you were standing with a bag over your shoulder with your showering necessities. However, at the sight of Harry Potter in the giant, soapy tub with his head laid back on the cold tiles, you were immediately whining “Oh, come on!” Harry was instantly jumping up with a surprised noise, both hands immediately flying to make himself somewhat decent. Not that you could see his dick past all the bathtub’s soap, nor that you were looking.

“Who showers in here naked?” You immediately judged, gesturing to the vast bathroom “Everyone knows that Moaning Myrtle is the biggest perv.” You scoffed nonetheless, rolling your eyes and making your way out of the bathroom. “No, wait!” Your footsteps halted, and you curiously looked back towards the boy who lived. “Um, you can join. I won’t try anything weird.”

You watched wearily as he dragged his boxers into the tub, his movements telling you that he was putting them back on. You didn’t know whether to be disgusted or flattered, Bbut you weren’t about to waste an opportunity for a luxurious bath, even if it meant sharing it with Harry Potter. So you quickly stripped your clothes off, and Harry shamelessly drank in the sight of you in a bikini as you stepped into the tub.

Why did he think people showered in here naked?

The tub was big enough for you and Harry to sit on opposite sides with plenty of space between you, given how spacious the circular tub was, but you took a seat surprisingly close to Harry, watching his face for a moment before taking your book out of your bag and humming in satisfaction at the water’s warmth.

Harry cleared his throat before looking away from you and busied himself by staring at the stained glass windows of the bathroom. He couldn't help looking back at you though, watching as you flicked onto the neck page of your book, your soapy arms glistening as the sunlight hit you from the right angle, creating a rainbow of colours over your skin. “It’s a little difficult to focus when you’re staring so hard.” You put your book away to return Harry’s stare, a teasing smile on your lips.

“Sorry, I’m not quite used to sharing a bath with someone.” You hummed, raising an eyebrow at the bespectacled boy. “I’m sorry, is this too sexual for you?” Harry is quickly blushing at your comment, shaking his head at you and gulping thickly. You laughed, swimming closer to him in the bath’s shallow waters. “You’ve got soap on your glasses, by the way.” You stated, sitting back on your knees in front of him, which gave you more height in the tub.

Harry’s eyes were immediately drawn downwards to where your chest was barely peeking out of the water, the curve of your breasts in your bikini top catching his eyes. “Mhm, maybe Moaning Myrtle isn’t the only pervert around here.” Harry gasped at the comment, watching as you pulled your hair into a makeshift bun at the back of your head before letting it go again. How could you say something like that while looking so unbothered? “I didn’t mean to!” Harry cried, abruptly looking away from you. Your laughter had his head snapping in your direction instantly though, as you muttered. “Well, I don’t mind it so much when it’s a handsome man like yourself.”

Harry didn’t know what overtook him. Was it the fact that the pretty prefect everyone thirsted after was flirting with him? Was it the fact that you were giving him the tiniest bit of attention? Was it the fact that you were half naked in a bathtub with him? Well, whatever it was, it had him launching forward to press his lips against yours. He froze for a second, his earlier words ringing in his own head.

‘I won’t try anything weird.’ But did it really matter when you were pulling him closer to you and deepening the kiss?

The boy groaned, hands naturally settling on your hips and dragging you towards him until you were planted on his lap. You moaned softly into the kiss, hips dragging against Harry’s. He gasped, parting his lips to greet your tongue in his mouth. His tongue glided against yours harshly, fighting for a dominance you instantly acquired by snaking your hand into Harry’s hair and tugging softly.

Harry was instantly growing hard underneath you, but who could blame him when there was so little separating his cock from your greedy cunt, grinding down on him so desperately. “Please.” Harry muttered into the kiss. You giggled, hand trailing down to grasp the elastic band of his boxers before finally moving past, your fingers wrapping around his hard cock to tug on it once, twice.

But before you could pull your bikini bottoms down, the door rattled again as someone entered the bathroom. “It’s always the fucking prefects bathroom.” The person groaned, causing you to shoot away from the gryffindor boy in front of you, water splashing loudly around you. You cleared your throat, even as the person walked out of the bathroom, leaving you alone with Harry again.

Despite everything, you abruptly stood up, wrapping your towel around you as Harry stared at you with his jaw slack. “You know, I don’t sleep around with people I’m not dating.” But Harry almost let out a laugh at how incredulous that sounded when you were only seconds away from sinking onto his cock. Harry stood up, walking towards you and pulling your towel off your skin, leaving you in your bikini again. You gasped sharply as Harry tugged you back into the bath, letting out a squeal as the water crashed around you and Harry trapped you between his body and the edge of the bath tub.

“Okay,” he started, “So let’s say this is our third date, and tomorrow I’ll take you for a forth.” The boy didn’t hide his grin when you desperately pulled him back in for another kiss.

[rjunhuang]

the one where you make theo cry (an ain’t that love inspired drabble)

Theodore Nott was hardly the kind of man who wore his heart on his sleeve. He had spent years perfecting his signature air of indifference, the one that captivated most others, what compelled them to make an impression on him. Of course, all that fell away when it came to you.

It started subtly. A sigh escaping your lips after a long day would leave him restless, make his bones a little weary. When you rubbed your temples in frustration, he found himself getting agitated with you - whatever was vexing you so undoubtedly deserved his irritation too. And when you laughed - loud, unabashed - it felt like a breath of fresh air.

Not that he'd admit it to anyone. No, he'd promised himself a long time ago, he wouldn't tell a soul - not his friends, not his family, and certainly not you. Little did he know he had yet to see a moment of yours that would truly unravel him at the seams.

It happened on an ordinary Tuesday whilst tracking down Mattheo. He had checked their dorm, the Great Hall, the Quidditch pitch, everywhere - which left solely your dorm. Theo vaguely remembered him mentioning something about fixing one of the pipes in the bathroom, which was really just a ploy to impress one of your roommates more than anything.

But as he passed through the Slytherin common room on his way there, your droopy, teary eyes peering up at him for a split second, Theo swore he felt something inside of him crack open. You weren’t crying, not quite, but you were close. And Merlin, he hated it. Hated how his throat constricted, how his chest tightened, how his own stomach twisted with the bitterness of your misery.

He looked almost comically stricken briefly before straightening his face. "What's wrong?" he asked, voice low.

"It’s nothing." You shook your head, brushing it off with a tight, superficial smile as you moved up to make room for him. "Mattheo’s almost done, he’ll be down in a second."

Still taken aback, Theo accepted the seat beside you 

"It doesn't look like nothing," he prompted. You laughed weakly, dabbing at your eyes.

"Don't worry. It is, really. I'm just feeling a little…hormonal today." Your gaze fell back to the book and almost immediately, your emotions betrayed you once again.

You sniffled as your face screwed up in your effort to choke back your sobs. Theo felt a lump in his throat and an unfamiliar stinging sensation at the corners of his eyes.

“It’s just - “ you forced out, “he’s so small. Look at him, Theo. He’s tiny. He doesn’t know anything. He doesn’t know about taxes. He doesn’t even know about taxes.”

Theo finally caught sight of the page of your book. It had a picture of a baby niffler, no bigger than the size of your thumb - tiny, soft, with big, round, trusting (if only slightly mischievous) eyes.

As you dissolved into more stifled sobs, Theo blinked, caught completely off guard. Then, to everyone’s horror - including his own - his eyes misted over too.

"Oh, for fuck’s sake," Blaise muttered from across the room, watching the scene unfold. "Are you actually crying?"

“It’s fucking tiny.”

Theo scowled at him, aggressively wiping his face. He wasn’t sure what was worse—the sound of your quiet, shuddering breaths, or the way your shoulders trembled under his hands as he pulled you close.

You hiccupped between sobs. "I just love it so much."

Theo swallowed thickly, nodding. "Yeah. Me too." He glanced at the book in your lap again. He hugged you closer, deciding you were right - how dare a Niffler be that tiny, baby or otherwise?

Blaise sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Right. I’ve seen enough."

Theo’s tears dried as quickly as they came, but the two of you stayed pressed together for a long time after Blaise left, even after your breathing had slowed into something more measured once again. You pressed your cool check against his shoulder, half-dozing.

Unthinkingly, Theo pried your clenched fist open. Surprisingly, you let him thread his fingers through your own. He glanced down at you, at the soft locks of hair curling around your tearstained face. He resisted the urge to press a kiss to the top of your head.

You looked up at him questioning. His grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly.

“Just - just let me, alright?”

A playful smile tugged at your lips. “You’re ridiculous, Teddy.” Your smile turned teasing. “Wait till Mattheo hears you cried over a baby niffler.”

Theo took on a wounded look. “So did you.”

As the two of you curled up again, Theo decided that this emotional telepathy wasn’t the worst thing in the world. When you sighed, he sighed. When you laughed, he laughed. When you hurt, he hurt. When you cried over a baby niffler… apparently, he did, too.

He hardly dared to think it, but he did it all the same.

Wasn’t that love?

[rjunhuang]

summer '68 ✰ peter maximoff

featuring: headcanons of peter maximoff.

warnings: lowercase intended. modern au (the timeline's already fucked up, blame it on deadpool 2).

note: this is solely my interpretation of peter! if u don't agree, u can simply just scroll :) sorry there's not many, my hyperfixation is on hp now lol

divider by hyuneskkami | comments & reblogs are appreciated! <3

he's not actually a kleptomaniac — well, maybe not a typical one. he's just too impatient to wait down a line of cashiers. 

and maybeee he enjoys stealing from the rich.

peter hates googling for answers. he'd rather just grab a book and search for the answer himself. he'd say it's because "he's faster than google"

books > movies. he can complete a book within thirty seconds. a movie on 2x speed is still too slow for him.

has countless of shoes (stolen mostly). he keeps burning the soles off with his speed so he needs a new one very often. 

this is pretty much canon but he's most definitely a converse guy.

peter is the type to spam the shit out of his instagram stories before going m.i.a for the next few weeks. it's a constant back-and-forth cycle

before his mutation kicked in, he had a heelys phase.

that being said, i imagine he'd got his mutation when he was about eight or nine. that's why he'd be so open to showing his powers by the time he was seventeen. he obviously dealt with his fair share of insecurities and prejudice, but he'd grow to accept himself.

surprisingly talented in a lot of things. since he has all the time in the world, he's tried out a lot of hobbies: playing the guitar, solving the rubix cube, etc. once he's got the basics down he's already bored and ditches it.

that being said, he cannot cook or draw for the life of him. he's the type to grip a crayon so hard it tears through the paper.

[rjunhuang]

how the harry potter boys would react to you hooking up with someone else. — part two.

featuring: cedric diggory, neville longbottom, blaise zabini, oliver wood, theodore nott.

warnings: lowercase intended. gender neutral reader. informal writing?? they're a bit toxic. bullying. boys are dumb. kissing. unhealthy coping mechanisms. my depiction/fanon!theo. mentions of weed, smoking & other substances. mentions of sex.

note: here's ur part two!! thank u for all the love and support for the first part. y'all had me smiling and shit. send in requests for more prompts if y'all would like that.

part one | comments & reblogs are appreciated! <3

cedric!  there's no doubt that cedric diggory is a people's pleaser. all in all, he has a heart of gold but he's blinded by naivety to realise the red flags of his friend group. unfortunately, their toxicity does sometimes have an affect on the said golden boy. thus how a heated and disheartened rant about how you chose roger davies over him to his friends would lead to gossip, tattletales, and undeniable amounts of insolent comments. the 'rumours' of you and davies would spread like wildfire with those chatterboxes, and especially not positive ones on the ravenclaw guy. you'd caught clear moments where cedric would be snickering along with his mates as their eyes followed the motions of your boytoy.

he'd been laying down on the fresh grass with the support of his elbow, a cheeky grin spread across his lips as his gaze switches back and forth between his friends and the couple. some goon would get the brilliant idea to throw a core of an apple at roger. cedric's cheery expression would immediately drain out of him and be replaced with one of regret — "wait, come on, you didn't have to do that." he'd even shoot you a sympathetic look when your gazes connect.

this would be a common occurrence as his friends only grew more confident with their obvious distaste towards your fling. almost every matter would result in an apology from cedric, whether verbal or not.

"my friend was being a dick so, uhm, sorry about him. truly." his voice soft and airy; it brings the same sensation as a sugar cookie.

on the other side of things, you'd begun receiving bouquets of flowers and hampers of your favourite foods — someone was definitely keeping an eye on what you sneakily snacked on during classes. it would always be signed with a beautiful doodle of a butterfly, and sometimes if you were lucky enough, a short sentence of a romantic affirmation. it would've been creepy had there not been cute attempts from your admirer to prove otherwise. every note addressed to you would always have some sort of psa in brackets like 'i'll totally stop if you want me to', 'i really hope i'm not coming off as creepy' or a silly self-deprecating joke to turn the intensity of it all down. it also couldn't be creepy given the time with cedric's friends and this secret admirer fiasco being so obviously correlated.

you knew for certain that these gifts weren't coming from roger. sure, the attention the ravenclaw gave you made you feel desired and attractive.. but he barely even cared to get to know you. dates with roger were so dang boring — it felt like an awkward, unwarranted staring contest. it was clear he was only attracted to you visually. roger would never know you the way this secret admirer (who was so obviously diggory) did. it made you feel giddy — the epitome of a high school student in love. it wouldn't be long before you dump davies.

entering his muggle studies classroom, cedric would find a note placed on the desk where he usually sits, along with a daffodil. it reads — 'i hope you like flowers, diggory, because our date's going to be at the greenhouse.' unlike him though, the note is signed with the clear letters of your name. it's safe to say cedric was having trouble focusing on the rest of his class, his head in the clouds at the thought of you returning feelings.

neville!  it's unspoken rule that you and neville longbottom were to be herbology partners no matter what. it became a habit after years of doing so. you two worked best in the partnership of each other, earning highest ranks in the subject throughout all your years. but.. that was it, really. the moment you stepped out of the greenhouse and entered to real world of hogwarts, all sense of familiarity between one another left your bodies. you always chalked it up as neville being too shy to interact with you outside of class, and vice versa. it didn't really bother you. something about those tender moments during class hours warmed you up like no other. it was special and vulnerable and if it could only be obtained between the confines of many plants and some jabbering students; so be it. 

to neville, it made sense that you guys were strangers outside of herbology. i mean, merlin, you were one of a kind. you brought a light into a room that no one could resist looking away from. like moths drawn to a flame, you gained sort of a status among popularity. there was no way a guy like neville should be seen near a person like you. or so he thought. 

it shouldn't have been a surprise that neville was one of the last to find out that you were going on dates with dean thomas of all wizards. aesthetically (and probably personally for all he knew too), dean and you were a match made in heaven. both popular enough, well-liked, and most certainly good-looking. yet despite it all, neville still couldn't help but feel so bummed. he didn't even want to think of what it meant for your upcoming lessons in herbology together. how you'd stop clutching onto his shoulder to laugh at whatever awkwardly funny thing he'd said or no longer timidly compliment his good work for the day before leaving the class. would you smile at him less? reserve them for dean instead? the thought was awful enough and neville was certain he didn't want to know the answer to these insecurities. 

when the next lesson of herbology rolled in, you were definitely surprised to see neville seated with hannah abbott instead. you tried to shrug it off, thinking of it as a one time occurrence. but, oh, were you so wrong. 

he was ignoring you. you knew by the way he'd purposefully avoided your eyes with a gulp as you'd try to catch his attention during class. he'd placed himself rows away from you, secretly admiring you with yearnful eyes. the thought of you and dean never left his mind. and if you tried to talk to him? he was straight out the door the minute class was dismissed, running away in his usual, clumsy manner.

the lack of neville's presence in your life saddened you a lot more than you expected. you found yourself drawn to the greenhouses even during odd hours, reminiscing over the memories you had spent there with the gryffindor boy among the years.

the dirt under your hands seems to ease your mind of any worries as you take it upon yourself to fix a broken potted plant. you'd be so preoccupied by the task, you fail to notice a certain boy walk in and get stunned by the sight of you in there. neville's arm flying up and almost knocking over an empty glass jar was what brings your attention to him. you have to resist the small smile creeping up the corner of your lips.  neville, on the other hand, straightens up after he gently places the jar where it supposed to be. his head is down as he mumbles, "right, sorry, i'l—" "stay." your gloved hand immediately flies over to grab his wrist, doing your best not to dirty him. "please." the pleading eyes of yours seem to work as neville makes no attempt to dash out as usual. he stays firm in his place, watching you with wide eyes. seeing that he doesn't speak up, you do the honours instead. "i've missed you. you don't seem to want to sit with me anymore." you gently start with a soft smile.  the words 'i've missed you' knock the wind right out of neville. his heart stutters and mind dizzies. "oh— i just— dean, you know? thought you wouldn't have wanted to talk to me anymore. i—i mean dean's great! perfect! you're super fit. obviously, great. who wouldn't like you? hah, i certainly do, but i didn't want to bother—" your lips are crashing against his the next second with burning cheeks. it shuts neville up from his rambling. he can only gawk at you when you pull away, his face beet red. "i think you're pretty fit yourself, nev." you manage giggle out.

blaise!  michael corner was great. those were the words you used to describe your recent date with him. those were also the words your friends, pansy parkinson and theodore nott, affirmed back to you. they, along with a silent blaise zabini, were the first to hear the news about your love life's new contender. 

sitting by the courtyard, you twiddle your thumbs nervously after revealing your budding romance with corner. pansy, the closest to you physically and personally, happens to notice your skittish demeanour — well, it's hard not to. "michael corner? the ravenclaw? that's great. he's great." her voice slightly strains and you don't know if this is her attempt to ease your nerves or if she's incapable of genuinely complimenting a man.  "oh, yeah — great." theodore adds, with a devillish grin, which earns a shove on the shoulder from the girl. they then share an odd look (well, more of a glare from pansy) together. there's a silent conversation happening which only confuses you. who knew nott and parkinson suddenly gained the ability of telepathy. dismissing their odd reactions, you take the opportunity to glance over to blaise — who has his head down, reading a potions textbook. you don't know why you yearn for blaise's approval but he remains silent, deeply entrenched in his reading. you chalk it up to him being in one of his nonverbal, introverted moods and don't try to take his lack of interest in the news too personally.

over the course of time, nothing much changed between your friend group. it still contained the dynamic of pansy and theodore bickering, whilst you and blaise mediated. though, once in a while, you jumped in on the banter yourself.

"oh, nothing better than ganging up on nott, yeah?" theodore would sarcastically chime in with the roll of his eyes.

things with michael had been going well enough, a little slow maybe. your time spent with your friends on some days got cut short due to your plans with him. sometimes, you swore you saw a twitch in blaise's jaw whenever you brought up your fling's name. but maybe that was your imagination — how could blaise be annoyed or upset if his expression remained completely neutral? had you not known him better, one might think he was bored in the company of his friends with that face of his. 

after weeks of slacking off, you decide to make this particular day a studious and productive one. given your big age, it was best to be responsible and get some extra reading done for your studies. you can't blame blaise for his similar habits — education at hogwarts seemed to be growing tougher day by day. it's why today you'd do your rare visit to the library. struggling to reach for a copy of 'magical drafts and potions', you feel yourself grow a little self-conscious by your foolish-looking predicament. however, a hand from behind startles you, saving you from the plight. you blink in surprise, craning your head to see who this mysterious helper is. blaise is looking down at you with a hint of a smirk. he's still hovering behind you, hand clutched onto the spine of your desired book. the ghost of his smirk is irresistible to look at. you feel a little shameless staring at his lips like this but, merlin, the intensity of this moment has you fully engulfed. you swear you see his smirk widen a little and blaise takes the opportunity to poke fun at your blatant staring. "still think you want corner?" blaise's voice is monotone to a deaf ear, but you can tell he's feeling a bit smug.  he gives you no chance to reply, handing the book over before walking out. you stand there baffled, bewildered and actually questioning if any other wizard could set your heart ablaze the way zabini just did.

oliver!  oliver wood loved his routines. he loved to wake up at dawn to train before the morning birds are even ready to sing. he, well, endured the classes he's forced to sit and progress through in order to keep quidditch in his life. he loved to charge back into the fields after lunch, ready for another day of practice. and surprisingly to most, he loved to hang out with you by the black lake afterwards, all sweaty and disheveled from the exhilarating sport. 

he's not oliver wood if he's breaking these habits.

so the one day he didn't show up to your cute little meeting point, you're stunned. you thought — oh godric, all those jokes you made about 'a bludger getting to him before you-know-who ever did' have finally come true. he must be dead if he's not living up to his schedule! 

but you're wrong. he's certainly not in the care of madam pomfrey or working overtime at the quidditch field as both places were definitely deserted when you came by to check. 

so where the hell was the captain? see, unbeknownst to you, oliver caught you snogging marcus flint right as he approached the lake. slytherin quidditch captain marcus flint. he found it crazy how out of all the students you could've picked to kiss, it was the one man oliver despised. they were practically enemies. and though you owed him no decision-making in your love life, oliver felt betrayed. hence, he turned his heels, making no effort to disturb the two of you as he stormed his way back to his dorm. 

the following silent treatment and petty attitude from him left you more or less disheartened. he was a close confidant, and the way he managed to drop you without a word shattered you. he'd stop talking to you overall. you even learned from a conversation with alicia spinnet that he'd started to become a lot more grumpy during practices — harder on his teammates, giving them lesser breaks, he'd brought forth a sort of 'no pain, no gain' attitude into the environment.

any time you glanced his way, you noticed the bags under his dark eyes. clearly, his nights were nothing but restless. if you thought he was obsessed with quidditch before? you'd hate to see him now. he'd never left the fields or his broom unless madam hooch or, worse, professor mcgonagall dragged him out of there by his ear themselves.

concerned would be an understatement. this man was tweaking out all because of you and flint. pretty sure he'd recovered from quidditch loses better than this. 

you're practically rushing to the hospital wing when you hear the news that wood collapsed in the middle of practice. that lack of sleep must've gotten to him because oliver is beyond exhausted. madam pomfrey has forced him into bedrest (she'd have him shackled to the beds had it not been illegal) — he can certainly lay off quidditch for a while. worry paints your features as you peer down at oliver, clutching onto the side of the bed. he can only (attempt to) glare at you as you flood him with questions about his health. "why haven't you been sleeping? have you been eating? why are you overworking yourself like this — interhouse isn't until next season." oliver scoffs, his throat a little croaky. "why do you care?" he grumbles, crossing his arms like an upset toddler in the process. "don't you have flint to fret over?"  and it hits you — after days of this trivial behaviour from wood — that this man was fucking jealous. you don't know if it's inconsiderate to laugh at this realisation, so you resist. "we ended things." is all you give him, holding back from any sort of expression. it's clear you really don't feel bummed by it. the reaction you get from him is beyond elated. he breaks out into a grin and you can practically see the confidence return to his system. he's looking at you like he wants to sweep you off your feet and kiss you. like he's just won the lottery. so bloody euphoric, all oliver can reply is "oh."

theodore!  he is a pretty codependent person in my eyes. especially since he's recovering from a weighted past. when you started hooking up with ernie macmillan, all his bad habits came crashing down. you were his anchor — he'd often vent to you about his problems with his father at home or whatever struggles he faced with his friends sometimes. he hated to know that any brewing feelings he had towards you were never going to be reciprocated. 

he started going to class high. it's so miserable to witness. he promised you before that he'd quit or at least lay off on his substance related habits a bit — that he'd only do it socially if he wanted. showing up to class with red eyes and a mind elsewhere was not smoking socially. it's a miracle professor snape had his biases towards slytherins because if another teacher as observant as the greasy haired twat were to catch theodore, he could kiss goodbye to hogwarts. thankfully, snape never noticed this change either, too busy shaming a gryffindor during his classes instead. 

soon, you were hearing rumours of nott breaking every girls heart out there. it's one game after another with them. which was all the more surprising because theodore was never really a player. most of the public saw him as one of those untouchable hot guys — he was much less likely to sleep around compared to his other slytherin companions. it was like theodore had done a full hundred and eighty. his mindset was; if you were going to be messy, why couldn't he?

your final straw would be at the news of his newfound habit of getting into fights. seeing him enter the great hall every morning with a black eye became an uncomfortably common occurrence. sporting and piling up this many wounds was a horrific sight. it seemed like even malfoy and his goons were growing concerned.

theodore had been on his way out after breakfast — probably ready to sneak into a hidden cranny or abandoned room to light himself a joint before classes were to start. only merlin knew whether he'd decide to skip a few of these classes or not today. his exit out the great hall was cut short when he passes by the hufflepuff table. in a matter out seconds, one of the boys from the house is pinned to the table, food scattered and other peers watching in horror. theodore's knuckles turn white from how hard he's clutching onto the guy's collar.  you can only helplessly shoot up from wherever you're seated. the expression theodore holds is too grim that you have no backbone to interfere. whatever he's sneering to the hufflepuff is inaudible to the rest of the students present. it's not long before one of the faculty pulls them apart — "it's far too early for such nonsense!" screeches mcgonagall in her distinguished scottish accent.

judging by whatever the hell you had witnessed earlier that morning, you knew you couldn't keep allowing theo to shut you out like this.

pacing around in circles, you wait in the moonlit courtyard for your close friend. without a doubt, he'd show up in need to escape the chaos of the slytherin dungeon. there'd been many nights where the two of you sat here together, hiding from patrolling teachers or mr. filch. the theodore with you then was boisterous, happy, healing. he felt far from the guy you were about to confront. a soft footstep against the gravel behind you is the signal that gets you to whip around. you face the dark haired man with a stern expression, walking over to him in a fierce manner. "what the fuck has been going on with you?!" you whisper-shout, frustration evident when you shove his chest back.  theo's reaction is to clench his jaw, his eyes not daring to meet yours as he looks away. he stumbles back a bit from your push. "i don't know what you're talking about." he attempts to brush you off. feigning nonchalance and disinterest, he keeps his hands stuffed into his pockets. this doesn't stop you from inquiring further. you bring up anything you can — "is it your father again?", "malfoy then?", "stress? merlin, theodore, just talk to me." the two of you bicker back and forth, each sentence spat growing more and more exasperated.  finally, theo fesses up, tired of your endless and awfully oblivious queries. "merlin— it's you!" he hisses out, running a desperate hand down his brown locks. "it's you and your loser loverboy and how my stupid heart can't fucking handle watching you be happy in the arms of another man who isn't me." you notice how the rim of his eyes begin to grow red. it startles you but you can't ignore the excitement in your heart either. "and you thought it was smarter to ignore me rather than confess?" for the first time in the argument, your tone is one of lighthearted humour with the corner of your lips itching to smile. 

[rjunhuang]

MASTERLIST

𐙚 requests: open (i do not write smut so do not request! i go through requests very slowly)

EXTRAODINARY YOU ୭

BAEK KYUNG

҂ 11:57 pm — knowing your boyfriend inside and out, he takes you to the final part of him that he had been hiding.

X-MEN ୭

PETER MAXIMOFF

҂ song for lovers — how dating peter would be like.

҂ summer '68— headcanons.

HARRY POTTER ୭

VARIOUS

҂ 001 / 002 — how they would react to you hooking up with someone else.

GEORGE WEASLEY

҂ care — when banter and boredom leads to love confessions, you're painfully forced to reject george for his own good. after all, he can't know that you love his twin brother just as much. ( slight fred weasley x reader )

DC COMICS ୭

TIM DRAKE

҂ juliet, o juliet — tim gets grounded so you take it upon yourself to get him out. the problem? he doesn't want to leave — he just wants you.

ENHYPEN ୭

PARK SUNGHOON

҂ so gorgeous — you tell the group chat about your first impression of sunghoon.

[rjunhuang]

rika. 9teen. s.asian. she/they. scorpio. intj. queer+ace. ravenclaw. cabin 5 & 8. renjun's lovergirl. ☘️

╰・ masterlist | recs | inbox (open for chats & more)

୨୧ requests are 📝 open !!

i may take time to get to them. i'm a busy girl. please don't request smut — i'm asexual! this is a sfw blog (sorta). some reblogs/recs may contain smut. english is not my mother tongue :)

୨୧ currently listening to 🎧 sun tan - wallows

──── please do not modify, translate, plagiarize, copy, or claim any of my works as yours. fuck ai! dividers by si-eunnis & bernardsbendystraws.