#disliking him out of rivalry is one thing

[melandolia]

just watched mclaren’s post gp interview and you have lando apologising AGAIN, for dragging that shitpile of a car within millimetres of the podium, only hindered by a penalty that wasn’t even his fault. and yet here he is, in his bare socks, thanking his fans, calmly explaining his side whilst holding himself accountable when he feels is necessary, holding out hope for the next gp despite it all.

so please enlighten me, where does the “lando is a childish whiny arrogant prick” consensus stem from exactly? and why do so many people push forward that narrative just for the sake of appealing to a larger audience?

[fireinmoonshot]

death wish love | tyler owens x fem!reader

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader Summary: As members of rival storm chasing groups, you and Tyler Owens have hated each other since the start – well, you were supposed to. Little do you know, Tyler has been head over heels for you for months, and it's only when he nearly loses you that he realises he's done with pretending to hate you. Warnings: Descriptions of injuries, mentions of blood, tornadoes (of course), Tyler is actually painfully obvious with his crush but thinks he's not at all. Word Count: 6.7k (I don't know how that happened) A/N: I had this idea for a fic a few days ago and when I was listening to the Twisters soundtrack as I wrote, I realised that the song Death Wish Love fits it perfectly. I did not intend for this to be so long, but it somehow just happened. It's probably one of the longest things I've written on this blog, so I hope anyone that reads it really enjoys it. I had so much fun writing it and playing around in the Twisters universe! I will definitely be writing more for Tyler.

One of these days, Tyler Owens was going to get his shit together and ask you out. There were, however, several things in the way. The most pressing being the fact that your storm chasing groups were rivals and had been for years.

The fact that you hated his guts would be the second. 

He was unaware that you didn’t hate him quite as much as you made out to, though. It was just that you had a reputation to uphold. Being the unofficial leader of The Thunder Team, your friends and fellow storm chasers all expected you to dislike the Tornado Wranglers just as much as they did.

And you had – in the start. 

You were just beginning your PhD, fairly fresh in the world of storm chasing and the rivalry between your teams had been there from the very beginning. To your team, the Tornado Wranglers were nothing more than a bunch of stupid kids who didn’t even have the correct knowledge to be chasing these tornadoes.

To you, they had slowly become something of a wonder. You didn’t think it was necessary to have a PhD or education under your belt in order to storm chase. As long as you loved it, that was enough. And you never doubted the love that the Tornado Wranglers had for it. 

But still, the rivalry continued. It was always a competition. Who could get to the tornado first? Who could get closer? Who had better instincts when it came to choosing which one to chase? Who could get more attention on social media with their photos and videos?

The Tornado Wranglers had an advantage on that one.

That never stopped your team trying, though. Which is exactly what they’re doing as you walk towards them from where you’ve just parked your car. They’re all crowded around the van in the motel parking lot. Robbie, one of your closest friends, is filming Ally talking about something, probably regarding the EF1 tornado you’d chased today. 

You stop far enough away that you aren’t going to end up in the background of the video, and that’s when Tyler Owens sidles up beside you, arms crossed over his chest.

“Not interested in going viral?”

You glance up at him and notice he’s already looking at you with a cocky grin on his irritatingly handsome face. “No, figured I’d leave that to you and your team. Shoot any fireworks up a tornado today? I didn’t see you out there.”

“I didn’t realise you were looking.” 

There’s something strange in his tone of voice, but when you look at him again, there’s nothing in his face to give away the reason. 

“I wasn’t,” you huff. “It’s just that I see your giant red truck everywhere when I’m trying to get good photos of the tornadoes and it’s quite obvious when you’re not there.” 

Tyler smiles to himself. “Why don’t you come chasing with us one day, then? My truck won’t end up in your photos if you’re taking photos from inside it.”

You laugh. “That is the last thing I would want to do.” A lie. You’ve thought about it several times in the past.

“Sure, sure. You keep telling yourself that and one day you might actually believe it.”

You narrow your eyes at him but make no move to walk away from him. Your team are still filming and you’d rather stay away until they’re finished, even if it means standing with Tyler Owens until they are. 

“You guys gonna stop by the rodeo tomorrow night?” Tyler breaks the silence. 

You shrug your shoulders. “Depends on how tomorrow goes. You?”

He nods. “Yeah, we probably will, even if tomorrow doesn’t go to plan. You know my team. We love a night out.”

The weather tomorrow was predicted to be a good one for storm chasers – thunderstorms with heavy rain and likely a tornado as well, if the conditions were good enough. You were all hoping that they were. 

“My guys are less likely to go if they know your team is going, you know?” You look at Tyler, noticing the way that he’s watching your team, who are now laughing at something that Ally had said for the video. “We are still rivals.” 

“Did you think I needed a reminder?” He chuckles.

“Why? Am I being too nice to you?”

Tyler grins, one of those ones that makes you feel a little funny in your stomach. Like butterflies – but you don’t get butterflies from people you dislike. 

“Oh, darlin', you’re always a delight.”

You roll your eyes. “Want me to get you a shovel so you can start digging yourself a hole?” 

He holds up his hands in mock surrender and laughs. “Sorry, sorry,” he grins. “You wanna grab one for yourself so you can help me? I’d love the company.”

You open your mouth to reply about how much you’d love to help just as you catch Robbie’s eye. He’s quick to call out your name, beckoning you over, and you have no choice but to listen to him and leave Tyler. You’ve already stood here talking to him long enough and the last thing you want is your team thinking that you’re colluding with the Tornado Wranglers. 

“Gotta go,” you nod your head towards your group. “Good luck tomorrow.”

Tyler bids you good luck as well and watches as you head over towards your group, all of them eyeing him as you reach them. He tips his hat at Robbie, who is watching him with judging eyes, and turns on his heel, heading back to his own team to get a well needed beer.

—

When Tyler gets back to his team, he realises that they were all watching him. They all give him questioning looks as he grabs a beer out of the cooler. 

“What? I got something on my face?”

“Yeah, it sure is written all over your face,” Boone says.

Tyler frowns. “What is?”

“Oh, don’t try and lie to us, Ty,” Dani adds.

He shakes his head and takes a seat on one of the fold up chairs beside his truck. He’s smart enough to see what they’re getting at – the way he’d been there talking with you for so long. His friends are smart too. But hopefully not smart enough to see through the facade Tyler puts up to try and convince them that he still dislikes you. 

“Her, Ty? Really? She’s from the Thunder Team.” Boone stares Tyler down.

Tyler has no choice. “Okay, no,” he sighs and takes a long swig of his beer. “We were just talking, and I was just messing around with her.” He was also trying to get the courage to ask you to the rodeo, just the two of you, but he’d chickened out at the last second. “She definitely still hates us, judging by her reaction.”

Truth is, Tyler Owens has been harbouring a secret crush on you for the better part of a year now. It had snuck up on him. He’d hated you at first, thought you were just another stuck up storm chasing student, especially when he found out you were studying for your PhD. But after spending so much time around you, something had changed and all of a sudden, you had a hold over him that you didn’t even realise you had. 

It drives Tyler insane. 

The way he feels when he looks at you is definitely not the way he should be feeling about anyone, letalone the leader of a rival storm chasing team. But here he is. 

The passion he’d seen in your eyes when you’d been chasing storms. The way you talked about them in your captions on social media when you posted photos you’d taken. Even the way you made time to learn more about them through school while being on the road so often.

He was well aware that he was supposed to hate you. And yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to do it anymore.

“You sure that’s all it was?” 

“A hundred percent, Boone.”

He’s thankful when the conversation moves away from you and the Thunder Team. It lets him sit in his own thoughts for a few minutes until he’ll undoubtedly be brought back into the conversation for one reason or another. 

He’s unable to stop his eyes from drifting over to you and your team. You’ve taken a seat on the back of a truck, watching safely from behind the camera as Robbie films Ally again. He tries hard not to smile at the look on your face as you watch your friends, laughing along with the others. The last thing he needs right now is for one of his team to catch him grinning at you like an idiot, especially after convincing them that there’s nothing going on.  

He realises, then, that he’s already in way too deep.

—

The last thing you expect when you wake up the next morning is to find out that your team made a bet with the Tornado Wranglers when you had gone to bed. 

It’d been raining for most of the night, the ground covered in mud and puddles. The sky was dark and you could just feel that the conditions were perfect for a tornado. You had a good feeling that today would be the day.

Until you learnt about the bet.

“I knew I shouldn’t have left you guys alone.”

Robbie laughs, nearly choking on the piece of bacon he’d been eating. You’ve all come to a nearby diner to fuel up on both food and gas for your cars before what was supposed to be a long day of storm chasing. You have a feeling that it won’t be now that the bet exists.

“Okay, technically it was their fault,” Ally offers.

“Explain.”

“So, we’d had a few drinks, and they had clearly also been drinking, and Harry and I were heading over to the bathrooms to clean up before going to bed – because dental hygiene is important!” Ally begins, forgetting all about her half eaten plate of food. “We were almost there when they called out to us – I forget their names. The blond guy and the one with the mustache, the cute one. Anyway, they suggested a bet. Whoever could hold their liquor the best gets to choose which direction the other team chases in today.”

You stare at Ally. “And you said yes.”

She winces, and then shovels a fork full of eggs into her mouth, nodding so she doesn’t have to give you a proper answer. 

Your team is usually quite well behaved. But even the best of people could get taken advantage of, and you’ve seen it many times first hand with the Tornado Wranglers.  They can hold their liquor very well and wake up the next day with very little consequences from doing so. You’re honestly surprised Ally is even functioning. Harry, on the other hand, you haven’t seen all morning. Unsurprisingly, your team had obviously lost.

“Which direction are we going, then?”

“That’s the catch,” Robbie interjects. “They choose for us before we go. They get to look at the radar first and decide which way is going to be best. And naturally, they’re going to send us in the direction far away from the best chance.” 

You groan and let your head fall into your hands, beginning to ponder your options. You can either deal with the bet and get sent in the entirely wrong direction, or…

Without a second thought, you’re pushing yourself up from the table and heading towards the door of the diner.

“Where are you going!?” Robbie calls after you.

“I’m going to fix this mess!” 

—

Tyler greets you with a smile that is way too cheerful for both the time of the morning that it is and the situation.

“To what do I owe the pleasure on this fine morning, darlin'?” He asks, leaning up against his truck. He’s holding a coffee in one hand. Good to know he’s human. You’re not surprised that he doesn’t look hungover at all. The man practically resembles a God. 

“Wouldn’t call it a pleasure, honey,” you sigh, deciding to use a nickname just like he always uses for you. You cross your arms over your chest as you stop in front of him. “This bet you made with my team last night. I want it called off.”

Tyler’s breath catches in his throat at the sound of the word honey coming out of your mouth, directed at him. He clears his throat, trying to ignore the way it feels to hear you calling him that. “No can do, I’m afraid. We Tornado Wranglers don’t back down on bets.” 

You narrow your eyes at him. “I’m asking nicely.”

“I think you can ask a little nicer. Maybe throw a please in there,” he says. “You know it wouldn’t look good for your team, though, right? Half the other teams know about the bet.”

For a few moments, you simply just stare at him, hoping he’ll budge. He doesn’t. He stands there staring at you, too, leaning against his truck in an effortlessly attractive way, smiling at you in that same way he always does. It’s like he reserves this specific smile just for you. 

You take a step towards him, testing the waters, and notice the way his breath hitches this time at your close proximity. Did he dislike you that much that you getting this close to him set him on edge? Or was it something else?

“Nothing can change your mind?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I already told you. We don’t back down on our bets.”

“Tyler.” It’s a rare occasion where you call him by his first name, but you figure it can’t hurt to try it. You can see his eyes soften a little at the sound of it. “If you do this, you’re going to send us right off the trail and ruin our chase.”

“Who said I’d send you in the wrong direction?” 

“I’m smarter than you give me credit for.”

“I don’t know, darlin'. I give you a fair bit of credit for being a genius,” he took a sip of his coffee. “You’re the one with the PhD. I didn’t study that much.”

Something about hearing those words sets off that feeling inside your stomach again. You push it down. “I don’t have my PhD yet.”

“No,” Tyler shakes his head. “But you’re close, aren’t you? That’s more than most people around here can say regarding their education on these things.” He points a finger towards the sky, which is rapidly darkening. 

You sigh. He’s right about that. You are close to finishing your PhD, and not many of the other storm chasers around you could say the same. 

“Just tell me which direction we’re going in, Owens.”

He looks at you for a moment. “I’ll give you a choice,” he says, and for a moment hope sparks in your chest that you’ll get to choose your direction – until he continues speaking. “I’ll let this bet go if you make another one with me.”

“What sort of bet?” You cross your arms over your chest.

“Not regarding our teams. Just you and me.”

You’re about to respond when you hear the sound of the van, playing music rather loudly – Harry’s choice – pulling into the motel parking lot behind you. You sigh and turn around to look at them, irritated that this is the second time in less than 24 hours that they’ve interrupted you and Tyler. 

“No luck?” Ally calls out from the passenger seat. 

Behind them, Robbie pulls up in his truck. 

You shake your head and turn back around to face Tyler. There’s no time to make another bet with him now that your team is here and they’re all ready to go. 

“East or west, Owens?”

Tyler turns around and looks at the sky around you. You figure he’s already done his research on the conditions in every direction and that he’s just messing with you, pretending to decide on the spot. Any good storm chaser would have been watching the radars all morning – which you had been, before you found out about the bet. 

“East.” He says, turning back around to face you. “There are two possible formations, so let’s see which one develops. Or, you can ditch your team and come join us for the day. My passenger seat practically has your name on it, darlin’.” 

A small part of you finds yourself wanting to say yes to him. To tell him that you’d love nothing more than to get in his truck and see what a day with the Tornado Wranglers is like. But the reasonable part of you wins out. 

“You’re going to regret making this bet with my team, Owens,” you take a step back from him, giving him his space again. 

“I gave you the choice of another option, but you didn’t take it.”

You ignore him and turn around, heading towards the passenger side of Robbie’s truck – your usual spot when storm chasing. Tyler laughs at your reaction and then gets into his own truck before pressing his hand to the horn, making you jump at the sound, obviously using it to call his team from inside. You shoot him a look over your shoulder and in return, he sends a wink your way.

“May the best team win,” Tyler flashes a grin.

“Oh, we will!”

—

As much as Tyler hates to admit it, he had sent you in the wrong direction. There were two possible formations, that was true. But it looked very clear that the one to the east wasn’t actually going to develop into anything, and he was sure you would’ve figured that out once you got on the road and actually checked the conditions yourself.

He hates disappointing you. He saw the look on your face as you tried to convince him to call off the bet, the way you wanted to make sure today was a good one for your team. But it isn’t entirely out of competition that he sent you in the wrong direction.

Subconsciously, he did it to try and keep you safe.

If you’re out of the way of the tornado, then it’s a weight off of Tyler’s chest. He wouldn’t admit that to his team, but it felt good to think about himself. That you’d be safe. Besides, he had tried to get you out of it by making another bet with you, but he knew that you wouldn’t humour him the second he saw your team arrive. 

He presses his foot down on the accelerator, watching the clouds ahead of them. Something is going to form. He knows it. He just hopes it’s a good one, something worth chasing. 

In the passenger seat, Boone is keeping a good eye on the clouds to the east. He’s filming as well, live streaming as usual. 

“You were right, Ty,” Boone says, pointing the camera out the window towards the east. “That one’s gonna give us nothing. It’s already disappearing.”

Tyler lets out a breath of relief. You’re out of harms way and even though he knows you’d be annoyed at him if you ever found out, he can’t seem to find it in himself to feel bad about the fact. He had felt bad about the bet when you’d been talking to him, but now he realises that keeping the bet was a good idea.

“This one’s gonna be a good one, I can feel it,” he says, eyeing the clouds above them. 

Then, it happens – the tornado forms right in front of them. It’s already huge, bigger than any tornado Tyler has seen in the past few months.

Boone whoops in the seat beside him, moving the camera to film the tornado through the windshield. 

“Just look at that beauty!” He exclaims. 

Tyler can’t keep the smile off of his face as they drive closer to it. He stops the car once they get close enough, anchoring it to the ground as usual, watching as it gets closer and closer to the truck. 

“Oh, this is gonna be fun,” Tyler yells, straight to the camera that Boone is holding in his face. “Let’s do this!”

It’s only a split second later that his heart drops to his stomach. He watches as the tornado, once coming right towards them, veers off course. It’s heading east. And it’s growing in size. 

He looks out of the passenger window and in the distance, he can see your truck. It’s white, so bright under the dark sky. You’re going to be right in its path.

He sent you in the wrong direction to try and get you out of harms way, and instead he’s sent you in the exact direction the tornado is heading. There’s no way you can get out of its path in time. 

Tyler suddenly feels like he can barely breathe.

“Turn the camera off, Boone,” he commands, and then he’s removing the anchors from the ground and pressing his foot down onto the accelerator before he can even really think about it, even though there’s no way he can reach you in time with how quickly the tornado is moving towards you.

Boone, thankfully, listens, ending the stream, putting the camera down and picking up the radio to try and reach you. He’s realised what’s happening. Tyler tries to ignore the panic he feels when there’s no answer.

He can’t lose you like this. Not now. Not when he never really even had you. Not when you didn’t even know the way he felt about you. He’d been an asshole, a fool, making that bet. If he hadn’t, none of this would have happened.

“Please be okay, please be okay.” He mutters it under his breath like it’s a mantra. He doesn’t care what Boone thinks. If he says it enough, maybe he can make it come true.

—

You’ve seen tornadoes before. You’ve been close to them before. But you’ve never had one quite this size coming straight at you. You hadn’t expected this. 

When Tyler sent you east, Robbie had checked the radar and noticed that the cells out here were much less likely to form a tornado compared to the ones west. You’d gone anyway, figuring you’d try your chances, leaving Ally, Harry and the rest of your team a little further back, trying to get as close as you could before you realised your tornado was going to amount to nothing at all.

You and Robbie had been watching the tornado forming west of you, wishing you had been able to chase that one rather than do what the Tornado Wranglers told you. 

And then, it changed course.

“Get out of the car! We need to run!” Robbie undoes his seatbelt as he speaks and it doesn’t take you long to follow suit, undoing your own and jumping out of the truck.

He takes off at a run ahead of you just as the rain begins.

Your heart is beating faster in your chest than you think it ever has before. Your legs burn at the pace you’re running, your feet sinking into and skidding through the muddy paddock thanks to the heavy rain last night and the rain growing even heavier now. It slows you down, but your adrenaline pushes you faster. You can’t stop, not now. Not when there’s a possible EF4 on your tail, getting closer to you with every breath you take.

You make a mistake, then, deciding to look back at it. 

The sight of it only makes you run faster, but when you turn back, fear strikes through your system as you realise you can’t see Robbie anymore. 

The wind isn’t strong enough to have pulled him back into it, not when he was running ahead of you, but you can’t help but think of the worst possible scenario as your gaze narrows in on a gully just ahead of you. Maybe he made it there before you and now he’s just waiting.

The wind from the tornado picks up trees and branches and other debris, sending things spinning through the air. You feel something slice across your leg and cry out at the sudden pain, but there’s no time to inspect the damage as you slide down the small hill into the gully, the mud going everywhere as you hit the bottom. 

You don’t even have time to scan for Robbie as you press yourself down onto the ground of the gully, covering your head with your hands and pressing your face into the ground. You try to ignore the feeling of the mud and dirt on your skin, the throbbing pain in your leg, the rain pelting down on your back, soaking you to the bone, and try to keep breathing steadily despite being out of breath from the run and the adrenaline. 

You can’t panic now. If you panic now, you’re dead. 

The tornado gets closer and you can hear it. Hear the wind rushing through the air, hear the sound of trees being ripped out of the ground. Hear the crashing sound of the truck being picked up and thrown by it. 

Everything is okay,  you tell yourself, like a mantra. Everything is going to be okay. Because if you tell yourself enough, maybe it will come true.

—

By the time Tyler gets to the place where your truck had been, the tornado is gone and so is your truck. He barely even has time to put his own truck into park before he’s jumping out of it and calling your name. 

Boone is quick to follow him.

Tyler’s eyes narrow in on something in the distance – the remnants of your truck. It’s sitting upside down, the cab crushed in and all the glass broken. Even some of the wheels are missing. His heart almost stops.

No, you would have been smart enough to get out. You wouldn’t have stayed in the truck. He knows that. He believes that. It was one of the first things any storm chaser learnt – never stay in your car, it’s better to take your chances outside of it.

He stops in the middle of the field and takes a long, deep breath to try and calm himself down when he hears the sound of someone yelling out.

“Hey, I need some help over here!”

It’s a male voice, not belonging to you, which is the first sign that makes Tyler realise something is wrong. He recognises Robbie immediately, even though he’s drenched in rain and covered in mud and blood.

Boone runs off towards him and Tyler follows.

“Where is she?” He cuts in as Boone begins asking Robbie where he’s been hurt. “Were you with her? Where is she?” 

He knows he’s being a little irrational. He should be kinder, especially when he’s the reason Robbie was even in this tornado in the first place, but his mind is narrowed in on you, on making sure you’re okay. He’s never been more terrified that he’s lost you in his life.

“I don’t know,” Robbie shakes his head. “She was behind me, and then I jumped down into this little dam and she never came in after me.” 

Tyler doesn’t let him say anything else before he takes off running. He knows Boone can handle Robbie. His only concern is finding you. He calls out your name again and again and again, willing you to respond to just one of them.

He only hears silence.

—

The second you wake up, you push yourself up, getting your face out of the mud and opening your eyes, trying to adjust them to the sudden brightness now that the tornado has disappeared. 

You’re vaguely aware of the sound of someone calling out your name, but it sounds fuzzy, far away. Your head is spinning and you’re pretty sure you could be imagining it.

You put a hand up to the side of your face, feeling the sticky sensation of blood on your hands. Something must have hit your head and knocked you out during the tornado. You can only remember something hitting your leg as you’d slid down into the gully. How long have you been lying here? Minutes? Hours? Days, even?

Looking around, you can see the devastation caused by the tornado. There are trees and branches everywhere, and with the rain, it’s made it even muddier – and probably impossible to climb out of, especially with your injuries. You finally allow yourself to inspect your leg, noticing a deep cut across your shin, ripping your jeans. Your leg starts to throb as you finally allow yourself to recognise the pain. 

With a deep breath, you try and push yourself to your feet. It’s slippery down here thanks to all the mud and rain, and you manage to stand for just a second before your leg buckles and sends you crashing back down. At least it’s a fairly soft landing.

You curse under your breath just as you hear movement above you. Your eyes flicker towards the direction of the sound, and when you see Tyler Owens appear at the edge of the gully just to the right of you, you nearly feel like you could cry.

“Tyler!” You manage to call out to him, though your voice is weak.

His head spins towards your voice, eyes widening as he sees you. You must look like a mess, covered in all the blood and dirt, but you knows he doesn’t care. Especially with the way he slides down into the gully and stumbles towards you, getting covered in mud himself in the process.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He falls to his knees in front of you, his hands moving to cup your cheeks and move your head from side to side. He’s quick to check the wound on your head where the blood is coming from. “You’re okay, darlin’, it doesn’t look too deep.”

You can see the panic in his eyes as he scans you, scans your whole body looking for injuries. You can also tell from the look on his face when he looks at your shin that your injury there is worrisome. 

“It’s my fault,” Tyler shakes his head, refusing to move his hands from your cheeks. It’s as if you’ll fade away if he lets go. “I shouldn’t have told you to go east. I was just trying to get you out of the way of the tornado cause I felt that yours wasn’t gonna develop, but then ours changed course and it was heading straight towards you and I couldn’t get here fast enough and god, the idea of losing you, of never seeing you again, of never asking–”

“Tyler!” 

He stops talking, having not even realised that he had let the situation get the better of him and had been rambling on. When he meets your eyes, you’re shocked to see that there are tears in his. 

“You never call me by my first name.”

“I didn’t think I’d be able to get your attention if I didn’t.”

Your reach up and take one of his hands off of your face and weave your fingers between his. You don’t really know what you’re doing, exactly, but all you know is you need to comfort him. That and you’re shaking like a leaf and the feeling of holding his hand is like an anchor to the world. A reminder that you’re alive. 

“I’m still here, Tyler. I’m all right.”

“You’re not,” he shakes his head. “You’re hurt, and it’s because of me–”

You take him by surprise as you reach up and place your own hand on his cheek. It’s only when you touch his face that you remember your hand is covered in blood and mud, but when you try and take it away, Tyler places his hand over the top of it. His eyes flutter closed and he lets out a long breath that feels to you that it’s something like relief.

The two of you stay there like that for what feels like an eternity but is really just a few minutes, soaking in the feeling of each others skin and coming to terms with the realisation that you’re alive. 

“It’s not your fault, Tyler,” you mutter softly. “You couldn’t have known that tornado was going to change course and head straight for us. Just because that bet ended up landing us in the path of a probable EF4 doesn’t mean you’re the one to blame for it. I don’t blame you.”

He blinks his eyes open and stares at yours for a moment. 

“Now, what were you saying about asking me something?” You try to change the subject.

There’s a look of something in Tyler’s eyes that you can’t quite place, but it drops off of his face instantly at your words and he lets out an awkward laugh. “I don’t think now’s the right time, darlin’,” he says. “Some other time, when you’re not bleeding and injured. We need to get you out of here and to a hospital.”

You shake your head, ignoring the fact that the movement makes you a little dizzy. “I could have just died and I would have never known what it is you wanted to ask me. So I want to know what it is right now.” You’re surprised at how strong your voice sounds, even though you don’t feel strong at all right now.

Tyler sighs and you can see by the look on his face that he’s giving in to you. “I was trying to get the courage to ask you out, was trying last night actually but I chickened out. You can be quite intimidating sometimes, you know that?”

For a moment, you just stare at Tyler. 

“I thought I was the one who hit my head. Did you hit yours too?”

He lets out a soft laugh. “Something like that.”

“You need another reminder that we’re supposed to hate each other?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I think I’ve had enough reminders to last me a lifetime. But I’m done with pretending to hate you. With trying to convince my team that I dislike you so much. I know they know the truth. It doesn’t matter, even though you can’t stand me.” 

You meet Tyler’s eyes and in them, you can see that he’s telling the truth. He doesn’t hate you, nor dislike you, nor anything similar. With the way he’s looking at you, the way he was calling your name, the way he panicked so much when he thought you were seriously hurt… he really was trying to ask you out. Just the thought of it makes that feeling rise in your stomach again, and for the first time you recognise the feeling for what it truly is – butterflies. You don’t get butterflies from people you hate.

“I don’t hate you, Tyler.”

You can see the surprise flash across his eyes.

“You don’t hate me?”

“You annoy the hell out of me and you drive me insane sometimes. But no. You fascinate me, and you make me laugh, and even though every member of my team hates you and your stupid red truck, I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to be in the passenger seat with you, driving head first into a tornado, and I nearly said yes when you asked me earlier.”

Tyler chuckles. “My truck is not stupid.”

“Does your passenger seat really have my name on it?”

“Embroidered it myself.”

You laugh, then, a real, full laugh, and Tyler can’t help but laugh as well at the absurdity of the situation. You’ve just survived a devastating tornado, you’re injured in more ways than one, Tyler Owens has just told you he likes you and you’ve come to the realisation that you like the fact that he does. And maybe, you like him a little bit too.

“We’re not gonna make it to that rodeo tonight, are we?” You ask, once the laughs subside.

Tyler shakes his head. “Rain check for the next one?”

“That’s how you’re asking me out?”

He doesn’t get a chance to reply before you both hear your names being called and look up just as Boone and Robbie appear at the top of the gully. Tyler turns around to look at them. They look relieved to have found you both, and you feel just as relieved to see that Robbie is alive and well, only a little battered just like you are. Even if you’re a little disappointed that your moment with Tyler was interrupted. It seems that happens more often than not lately.

“Is she okay?” Boone asks Tyler.

He nods. “Yeah, but she’s injured. We’re gonna need a hand out of here.”

“We got you,” Boone says.

—

“So, when are you asking me out properly, Owens?” You ask.

It’s been a week since the tornado and a week since you found out that Tyler Owens had been wanting to ask you out for months. Boone had stayed true to his word that day, using a rope and Tyler’s truck to pull you both up out of the gully.

Tyler had barely left your side since – even in the truck ride to the hospital. He usually hated letting anyone drive his truck other than himself, but that day he’d thrown the keys to Boone so he didn’t have to take any of his attention off of you. He’d stayed with you in the hospital as well, even when the rest of your team turned up to check on you and Robbie.

You were surprised at how quickly your teams had dropped their rivalry after the tornado. They’d clearly seen the way you and Tyler acted around each other, how things had changed after the tornado, even though both of you refused to give them details on what had happened when Tyler had found you in the gully. 

It was something both of you were glad for.

“You can’t just ask me that,” Tyler says, kicking his legs up on the desk in the small motel room. Luckily, he’d taken off his muddy boots when he’d come inside to check on you. He had insisted you go back home to recover from your leg injury, but you’d refused. 

“I can’t?” You ask from your spot on the bed, resting your leg up on some pillows. It had luckily not been too bad of an injury, just a reasonably deep cut that needed stitching and wrapping. You still had to be careful not to rip the stitches, which meant no storm chasing and only resting for the time being. 

Tyler nods. “You made me admit the truth to you while we were both covered in mud and blood in the bottom of a wet, muddy gully. I’m not going to ask you out while you’re sitting on a motel room bed with an injured leg and stitches in your forehead. I’m classier than that.”

You snort. “You, classy?”

“From time to time,” he shrugs a shoulder.

You jokingly roll your eyes at him. “I’ll believe it when I see it. You know, you never actually explained what the other bet you wanted to make with me that day was. Was that something to do with asking me out as well?”

Tyler’s face broke out into a grin. “Maybe.”

“Of course,” you can’t help but laugh at the silly look on his face. “Are you at least going to ask me before I get swept up in another tornado?”

“Darlin’,” Tyler stands up and crosses the room until he’s standing right beside you. One of his hands reaches down and picks up yours, weaving his fingers in-between yours. “If you get swept up in a tornado, I’m going to be right beside you. I’m gonna be beside you for as long as you let me. For as long as I get. As long as I get, okay?”

He repeats it like a mantra. Because if he says it enough, he’s certain it will come true.

[roanofarcc]

WORTH YOUR WHILE

pairing. Tyler Owens x fem!reader

summary. as the local weather woman, you shared an interesting rivalry with your hometown storm-chaser. while you always reported on the dangerous weather from a safe distance, tyler barreled into it head-first. but things change the night of the county fair when you find yourself in the middle of a storm rather than in the safely of a newsroom. 

warnings. dramatic fluff, hurt/comfort, description of tornados, a curse word or two, description of injury, slightly inaccurate meteorological info.

word count. 2.9k || masterlist

a/n. hopping on the glen powell bandwagon bc he and daisy absolutely killed it in twisters!! feel free to send me requests for tyler, kate, and javi!

“If you keep looking at him like that your face will get stuck in a scowl, which is really bad for television,” your friend said, leaning into your side. With a roll of your eyes, you managed to pull your attention away from the self-titled ‘tornado wrangler’ who had stirred up a fuss in the line for funnel cakes. People buzzed all around him as he signed shirts and took photos, never dropping his smile that you often dreamed about smacking right off of his face. 

You had grown up alongside Tyler Owens, never as friends but as friends of friends. After you both split off for school to study meteorology, you returned to your hometown for very different reasons. Tyler started in the business of storm chasing, live streaming his adventures to people all across the internet who sensationalized the dangerous weather, and you scored a job as your hometown’s Weather Woman. Your job was to warn people about the threat of tornados while his was to drive head-on into them. 

That was where you two drew your lines in the sand when it came to each other. He thought you were scared of taking risks while you thought his thrill-seeking was stupid and would eventually get him or one of his team members hurt. Those opinions on each other's job led to you two butting heads every time you encountered one another. His mere presence was enough to annoy you, especially at your favorite event of the summer, the fair. 

“Look who it is,” Tyler’s voice sounded near you and your friend nudged your arm in the direction of it. You looked away from her just as he approached you, tipping his hat and flashing his teeth in a smile. “Didn’t know they still let you out of the newsroom these days.” 

You crossed your arms over your chest, as the air of arrogance surrounding him nearly choked you out. “Don’t you have a tornado to chase?” you asked, wanting to end the conversation before it fully started. Unfortunately, he never seemed put off by your jabs, but he was assumed by them. 

“I took the night off,” he replied. “I wanted to see if there was anything worth my while here tonight.” 

You raised your brows. “Oh really?” He nodded, smiling brightly at you. “Find anything yet?” 

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “It’d be easier if she answered my phone calls.” 

Tyler disliked you a whole lot less than you disliked him. After you graduated and he started storm chasing, he tried at every given opportunity to get you to join his team. Even years later he still tried to, no matter how many times you told him the risk he was putting himself and his team in every time they barreled into a storm cell. He was relentless but you were happy where you were at. You wanted to help people when it came to severe weather, not make the storm look enticing for internet audiences. 

“I already told you, I’m not interested.” Storm chasing was a dangerous game that you had no intention of playing. Being from the Midwest, you had lived through your share of tornados. Chasing them was not in apart of your career path.

His smile faded slightly before he seemed to snap back to himself. “All I’m saying is, we could use a mind like yours out in the field.” The compliment was nice, you could admit that to yourself, but it wouldn’t win you over. He knew that too. “But suit yourself.” And with that he walked off, meeting up with the rest of his team that joined him at the fair that night. 

Your friend whistled lowly. “I don’t know how you do it,” she said. 

“Do what?” 

“Say no to a man like that.” You rolled your eyes once more as the line you were in moved. As she stepped forward to order, you threw a quick glance over your shoulder in the direction Tyler had walked off in. You saw him happily chatting with his team before glancing back at you for just a moment before you returned your gaze forward.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of colorful lights, sticky heat, and enough fried food to make your stomach ache in the best possible way. Your friend left after a couple hours of roaming the prize barns and laughing at the kids screaming their heads off on the carnival rides, but you stuck around for a little longer, relishing in the sweet nostalgia the fair brought you. 

Before you had taken a couple of well-deserved days of work, you and your team had predicted a storm front moving. Later that night was supposed to bring rainfall and a thunderstorm or two popping up around the county and neighboring areas. You thought you’d have plenty of time to roam the fair for a little longer until it hit, but you noticed the shift in the weather almost immediately. The sudden uptick in wind pricked the back of your neck as the distant rumble of thunder echoed above the fair chaos. 

It was difficult to predict everything, that you had learned early on in your career. It also was hard to predict how quickly weather could change from bad to deadly. One moment you’re gazing up through the lights into the night sky, trying to gauge the incoming storm, and the next, the sirens are blaring across the fairgrounds. 

The crowd of people running in every direction made the walkways hazardous. You were knocked into and jostled around as you tried to run toward the restrooms that doubled as storm shelters. They were clear at the opposite end of the walkway, but they were your closest option. You dodged and weaved through the swarms of people, trying to stay on your feet. 

You only made it halfway to the shelter when you were stopped by the awful cries of a little girl who sat under the counter of one of the carnival games. She hugged her knees to her chest and called out for her mom, but no one who rushed by stopped. You didn’t think twice before you sidestepped the fleeing crowd and crouched down in front of the little girl. The wind picked up significantly, blowing the cheap prizes right out of the booths and sending everything flying around and knocking into people. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” you raised your voice above the howl of wind and frantic people. 

“My mom!” she cried harder. “I lost her. I don’t know where she is!” 

You glanced back up at the sky. The lightning strikes illuminated the massive, dark mass moving in quickly. “Come with me, and I’ll help you find her, okay?” 

The noise all around grew louder, frightening the little girl, along with yourself, but as you outstretched your hand, she took it, and you quickly pulled her to her feet before you both took off running. The speakers urged everyone to seek shelter immediately, but you watched as people raced in the opposite direction of the shelters, probably bee-lining to cars in an awful call. They’d never out race it. 

“Charlotte!” Someone screamed and the little girl whipped her head around before she tugged hard on your hand. From behind you, the little girl’s mother appeared, immediately scooping up her daughter in her arms. “Oh my, God. Thank you!” she said, looking at you with teary eyes. 

“We have to take cover,” you told her, gently pushing her forward. “The shelter’s just up that way.” She thanked you again before she took off with her daughter in her arms. You wanted to follow, it was stupid not to when the wind gusts became more powerful, rattling everything dangerously and making it hard to think. But there were more people unsure of where to go and what to do. Groups of kids who had been dropped off for the evening stumbling frantically out of the rides and still dizzy. You stepped from the path and tried to direct people as best you could, shouting in tune with the speaker and the sirens for them to hurry into the shelter. 

It wasn’t until larger objects were plucked from the ground and tossed into the air like paper did you abandoned your aiding. The tornado screeched to life, ripping apart pieces of the show barns and rides with ease. You tried to close the distance between yourself and the shelter once more, but it wasn’t people in need that stopped you, it was a sheet of metal pried from the side of one of the food trucks. You tried to dodge the hurling objects, but the sheet came at you hard and fast. 

It sliced your shin, sending a wave of pain up through the rest of your leg. You stumbled, determined to stay upright, but the wind was too strong for your limping figure, and you toppled against the concrete, slamming your knees against the ground before you rolled over into the lousy shelter of a game’s tent somehow still standing. 

Panic started to set in as the storm raged around you, loud and monstrous. You covered your wound with your hands, unsure of where the blaring of the tornado ended and the fast-paced beat of your heart started, drumming in your ears and beating against your skull. You knew you couldn’t stay there, but leaving was just as dangerous as every attraction of the fair swirled around in the air. The cut from your leg painted your hands red and throbbed; it would only slow you down if you tried to run, creating even more of a risk. 

You didn’t know what to do. All of your life, the storms you had faced you’d always been lucky enough to find shelter in plenty of time, from the cellar in your backyard to your high school’s basement created just for such an occasion. 

Through the freight train sounding winds and your thundering heart, you heard a couple of voices that had to be close. Tearing your eyes away from the cut on your leg, you watched as another group of people sprinted down the walkway as someone yelled behind them to run. 

In all of your life, you’d never been so relieved to see Tyler Owens’s face standing just a few feet away; he hadn’t spotted you, and for a terrifying moment you thought he’d be unable to hear you yell out above the screaming storm. But somehow, he did. His head snapped in your direction, rain-coated and windblown, looking both out of sorts and in his element. 

“What the hell are you doing?” he yelled as he ran over to you, dodging flying debris that grew larger by the minute. The second he crouched down in front of you, his eyes flickered onto your legs, and the blood seeping out between your fingers as you tried to keep pressure on the wound. 

“I thought I’d just hang out here,” you said, your sarcasm watered down by the fear clear in your teary eyes.

His brows furrowed, deep in thought for a moment as he looked between you and the distance there was still to cross to the only close shelter. Without saying a word, he peeled off his wet flannel, leaving himself in a shirt that was already nearly soaked through as the sideways rain beat down against the both of you. “I’m gonna tie this around your leg and then we’re gonna run, okay?” 

You shook your head frantically. The ache in your legs was intense and you had already lost a good amount of blood, not enough to make you woozy but you were well on your way. It felt like your heart had crawled up your throat, making it hard to breathe as panic soaked you to the bone along with the rain. Everything around you seemed to be ripped from the ground, even the anchored tent you were under was seconds away from being picked up. 

“Hey,” he said, grabbing a hold of your shoulders, shaking you slightly. “It’ll be alright. You gotta trust me, though.” The sincerity shined in his eyes, bright as the rest of the power around you flickered wickedly. With a nod of your head, you dropped your hands from your leg and let him tie the flannel around your cut. As he pulled it tight, you cried out in pain. “I’m sorry,” he kept repeating until it was knotted. Quickly, he jumped to his feet and helped you up, looping an arm around your waist as you slung an arm around his shoulders. 

“Ready?” You didn’t get a chance to respond as the tent you were under was plucked from the ground, anchors and all, and flung backward into the tornado as it tore through the front entrance of the fairgrounds. Tyler took off, giving you no choice but to follow. 

You two stayed low, trying desperately to avoid the flying objects. With each step your leg burned, but Tyler’s hold on you was strong, not giving any room for you to lag behind or slip away. It felt like hours of running, but it was no more than a minute or two before you reached the shelter. The only major injury between the two of you was your leg, otherwise, you both collected a series of little cuts and bruises from your journey. 

Stumbling into the restroom, you were met with a hoard of scared fairgoers. You two managed to find a spot to slot yourself in with everyone else. He helped you lower yourself to the floor back in the corner just as the tornado was fully on top of you. You brought your knees up to your chest and covered your head. Tyler sat flushed against your side; you felt his hands rest over the top of yours as the building rattled violently. Squeezing your eyes shut, you refused to see the damage until the howl of wind subsided and people started to stir. 

Once it was over, everyone stumbled out of the shelter, getting jumbled together as police and ambulances rushed to the scene. Amongst people pushing and shoving to find their loved ones and get the hell home, you and Tyler were separated and before you could look for him, an EMT caught sight of your bloodied leg and ushered you to one of the ambulances. 

You sat on the back after the EMT stitched up your leg, looking over the torn-apart fairgrounds. Debris was littered everywhere, food trucks and carts overturned and some demolished, and rides were dislocated and strewn about in pieces. 

You clutched the bloodied flannel to your chest, shivering in the loss of adrenaline and temperature drop, and watched the sea of people until a familiar face popped into view, looking a little frantic as he stumbled through the crowd looking like he was in search of something. His eyes finally settled on you before he quickly pushed his way through the crowd until he reached you. 

“Hi,” you greeted, smiling tiredly. 

“I was looking for you everywhere,” he said, sounding slightly out of breath. “I looked away for a second and you were gone and-” You continued to smile, and he stopped himself. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Nothing,” you replied quietly before clearing your throat. “I, um, I just wanted to thank you. And I’m sorry for ruining your flannel.” You gestured to the ruined piece of clothing resting in your lap. 

Tyler was quiet for a moment, looking at the large bandage around your shin. “Don’t mention it,” he said, brushing off your thanks like he hadn’t just pretty much saved your life. “What were you doing out there anyway?” 

You sighed, feeling a creep of embarrassment up your spine. You should’ve known better but at the moment you just wanted to help people and had little regard for your own safety, until your leg was sliced open, that was. “There were people still out there, trying to figure out where to go. I was trying to help.” 

“That was stupid,” he said. “But brave. Stupidly brave, maybe.” 

“Funny. I think I’ve said the same thing about you a time for two.” 

His signature smirk slowly fell onto his lips. “Not to my face.”

“Oh, no. Never.” 

Tyler laughed, gently patting your knee, lingering for a moment before he dropped his hand back at his side. Someone called out your name, and you spotted your friend running back through the crowd. She had called you as soon as you had made it to the ambulance and told you she’d come back to take you home. 

“You should get some rest,” he said. “I’ll see you around.” As he turned around to walk away, you called out to him. 

“Tyler, wait.” He paused. “You should try calling me again. Maybe I’ll answer this time.” Breaking out in a grin, he tipped his hat in another goodbye, leaving you with a new feeling stirring inside your chest. 

Bonus! 

Hours later, after you had cleaned yourself up, you were tucked into bed, reading by the lamp light knowing sleep was probably far off after the events of the night. You didn’t expect your phone to ring that late into the night, and when you glanced at it, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the caller ID, but that time it was something besides annoyance that you felt. 

You answered, discarding your book on your nightstand. “You don’t waste any time do you,” you teased. 

“What I can say,” Tyler said on the other line. “I know when I find something worth my while.” 

[elikajinnie]

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

P: Slytherin!Heeseung X Fem!Reader

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t care much for any of that.

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

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

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

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

Which is exactly why he irritated you so much.

Lee Heeseung.

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

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

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

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

You despised him. Truly, sincerely, deeply.

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

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

Of course you were.

Of course she would say that.

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

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

Merlin help you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You stopped walking.

Heeseung nearly bumped into you.

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

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

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

You didn’t believe him for a second.

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

Naturally.

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

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

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

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

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

You narrowed your eyes. “Try me.”

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

Merlin, this was going to be a long week.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You inhaled sharply.

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

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

You were this close to hexing him on the spot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The audacity.

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

You cleared your throat, sharp and pointed.

He didn’t ignore it this time.

His gaze snapped to yours.

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

Focus.

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

You almost gasped.

Almost.

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

He didn’t answer immediately.

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

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

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

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

“I pick you up.”

Your pulse stuttered.

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

But you didn’t let it show.

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

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

“Now. Watch closely.”

And for once, he did.

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

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

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

But when he was?

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

It made your skin warm.

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

It made you flushed.

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

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

He didn’t answer right away.

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

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

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

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

“Don’t half-ass it,” you warned.

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

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

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

You blinked.

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

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

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

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

And again, that gaze lingered.

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

Because if he kept looking at you like that…

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

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

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

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

It was maddening.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was perfect. Too perfect.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Heeseung.

And the look on his face made your stomach drop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m just getting started...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked. “A girl?”

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

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

“So… what happened?” you asked slowly.

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

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

“She got expelled,” he said flatly.

Your eyes widened. “Wait—what?”

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

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

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

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

“Merlin,” you muttered under your breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh—Heeseung.”

Wait. What?

Your heart stuttered.

Heeseung was right behind you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You almost choked.

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

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

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

You stiffened.

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

Your breath hitched—barely, but enough.

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

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

“Heeseung—”

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

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

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

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

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

He didn’t move at first.

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

You blinked. “Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes narrowed. “Taesan?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes scanned the page once. Then twice.

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

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

Outstanding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that motivation?

Taesan.

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

Only downside?

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

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

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

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

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

That was the only way you could describe it.

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

You told him to shut up.

You told him to stop.

But you didn’t move away.

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

Because you stopped wanting to. And you hated it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like he already had.

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

“What?” you mumbled.

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

“Realize what?”

He just leaned back in his chair and grinned.

“How fun it is to be yours.”

And you swore your heart forgot how to beat.

You actually almost slipped once.

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

At least at first.

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

But then he leaned in.

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

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

He was already looking at you.

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

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

And then he looked down at your lips.

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

Nothing moved.

You didn’t move.

And Heeseung?

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

But your body knew.

And that was what terrified you most.

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

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

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

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

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

"Stop," you whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, how you loved it so much.

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

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

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

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

You didn’t want to be in control anymore.

You wanted him.

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

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

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

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[kerokeeces]

ENHYPEN SFW hyung line fanfic recs!

who am I? im just silent reader who enjoys fics and want to help others find some of my favorites! srry im hee + hoon biased so most are about them

short fic - 1-5k words long fic - 5k+

HYUNG LINE

the look of love by @won4kiss - (how they look at you when they’re blinded by their love) - short fic

low power mode by @sungbeams - (when you get overwhelmed while you're out together) - text msgs

just a bet by @all4yoi - (after a few months of dating, you find out you were just a bet.) - short fic

HEESEUNG

sing me a song by @senascoop - (when you can't fall asleep and heeseung tries to help by singing you a song) - short fic

race to your heart by @coqhee - (lee heeseung who's always been a pro at racing takes on a change of pacing ; racing for your heart.) - long fic

uh oh im falling in love by @won4kiss - (you and heeseung have been rivals for as long as you could remember, constantly competing for the top spot in school—basically everything. living next door to each other only added to the fire, the tension between you, especially when heeseung’s cocky aura never seems to waver. but one single encounter shifts the entire dynamic, leading to confusing emotions arising, jealousy, and new surprising revelations. what happens when rivalry starts to feel like it’s growing into something more?) long fic

a stoner's guide to starbucks by @jayflrt - (in which you work at the starbucks where heeseung is a regular at (and considered a public enemy). also he only goes when he’s stoned off his ass.) - smau series

she knows her sour patch kids by @allforhee - (living under the protective eyes of your older brother, park sunghoon, he thinks he knows you the best. but litte does he know that heeseung knows you love your sour patch kids more than you love his usual swedish fish.) - short fic

win one win me by @jaylver - (who knew being angry and impulsive can get the captain of the hockey team to notice you? cussing them out when they were losing wasn't the best idea, but it definitely made lee heeseung's head turn, leading to him making a deal with you to win a game in order to get your number. but that wasn't enough for him, he was determined to make you his.) - long fic

from screens to scenes by @enreveriee - (you decide to give online dating a shot but have never met your boyfriend in person, nor do you even know what he looks like. when your friends pressure you into finally asking him out for a real-life date, things take a surprising turn. what you expected to be a simple meetup becomes an adventure filled with unexpected twists.) - long fic

taste of life by @mygnolia - (heeseung is invisible to everyone, robbed of recognition as people pass through and never acknowledge him. to live as a shadow who observes is hard—heeseung sinks into corners and simply wishes for a chance to be a part of something. but when you finally come to the biggest halloween party of the year and see him, he can’t help but be attached.) - short fic

bring the heat by @kairoot - (y/n has always disliked heeseung, the arrogant rising star of the racing scene. she especially dislikes him when he beats her brother in the city’s street racing round and takes it upon herself to do a rematch and race him. but when she gets herself stuck in a predicament, her enemy is the only one who can save her. maybe there’s more to heeseung than just his big ego.) - short fic

bjoux by @okikeu - (The fashion industry is difficult, so when the CEO of Korea's finest, luxury fashion brand, Le Désir, loses the most important ambassador of her career, her life is pretty much over. That is, until she finds a face that makes her previous fumble look like a simple marketing scheme.) - smau series

cliches are okay by @chogiwow - short fic

JAY

how you get the girl by @jaylver - (Beach parties are supposedly fun and exciting, aren’t they? Wrong. Experiencing college parties is rare for you, but you decided to give this one a go after your best friend’s constant pleas. Things were alright until everything turned sour when trouble found you and eventually you were roped into a fight alongside the campus’ famous hockey playboy. As if that wasn’t enough, the devil himself conjured up an idea that you found yourself being entangled in. It was all fun and games up until confusion arose, feelings being confessed and played, in the end, Jay had to learn how to get the girl, his girl.) - long fic

white corvette and lipstick by @okwonyo - (waiting for the cab with your boyfriend in the night.) - short fic

pictures enhypen send you of bf!jay by @ddksoo - fake texts

fast forward by @asahicore - (After yet another romantic disappointment in the form of one Jake Sim, you go to the well you’ve always believed to grant wishes and ask for your one and true love to appear. That night, you go to sleep in your bed but wake up in a strange house. When you head downstairs, you find a man washing the dishes and telling you your favorite meal is waiting on the table for you. You’ve spent hours glaring at the back of that head, you could recognize it anywhere—it belongs to none other than Park Jongseong, your high school sworn enemy… and future husband, or so it seems.) - long fic

JAKE

bed chem by @cupidhoons - (your friend sets you up with a cute aussie boy at her party) - short fic

texts with bestfriend!jake by @silquids - text msgs

found you by @whjluv - (jake is very well known and loved by everybody on campus. equally popular was his relationship with the captain of the volleyball team, haneul. even more popular, sadly, is his breakup after more than a year. the months following the event take a significant toll on jake, who becomes unrecognizable. his once sweet, friendly and pure nature is replaced by a constant gloomy and somber aura. what happens when this new version of jake sim unexpectedly clashes with a very straightforward and quite intimidating member of the school’s podcast?) - long fic

SUNGHOON

deep honey by @paarksunghoon - (the last thing you want to do is interrupt sunghoon’s time with his friends, but your doting boyfriend has always said he’ll be there whenever you need him. when a shift at work leaves you hanging by a thread, he and his friends are there to patch your soul back up.) - short fic

cafeteria confessions by @reinahwanggg - (everyone thinks you're dating your childhood best friend sunghoon. well, everyone including sunghoon because he confessed to you almost a year ago and you didn't exactly know it was a confession because of how casually he said it.) - short fic

sunghoon with a crush on you by @woniecore - smau

get well soon by @senascoop - (You’ve always considered yourself a good person—kind, forgiving, and patient. But Sunghoon tested every bit of that. One reckless, drunken drive was all it took for him to flip your life upside down, leaving you temporarily confined to a wheelchair. The inconvenience was more than just physical; it was a wound to your pride and independence. Sunghoon, however, refused to walk away from his mistake. Guilt-ridden and determined to make amends, he became a constant presence in your life—covering your medical bills, offering you emotional support, and sticking around even when you wished he wouldn’t.) - long fic

love on air by @pshbites - (two podcast groups, both equally popular on the internet, start interacting with one another. however it isnt how fans want it to be.. OR yn sees sunghoon hating on lauryn hill and accidentally starts an entire fanwar with him.) - smau series

the 24-hour dating challenge by @jaeyunverse - (being a famous youtuber isn’t easy, especially when you have to constantly come up with new ideas to keep your audience entertained. and this time, your viewers want you to date park sunghoon, your best friend of nearly a decade, for the entirety of 24 hours.) - long fic

[dramaticals]

did you hear what i said?

pairing: theodore nott x gryffindor reader

summary: after a year of secretly dating, theo breaks things off when classes start up again. it's now christmas eve and he's back with a figurative box of regret / requested by anonymous.

author's note: angst! there will be a part two with fluff, but i just needed to get this out since i've been writing this for too long. (please) feel free to leave angsty requests in my inbox because this is the genre that gets my gears going! but i make no promises on resolutions and happy endings ♡

"You look happier."

Theodore stands in front of the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, his hands shoved into his pockets. His presence garners murmurs all around, even though the Great Hall was emptier than usual for the holidays. The sight of him makes your breath catch. It's been three months since you last spoke to him, but the memory of that night resurfaces, ripping open the wound on your healing heart.

It was back in September.

Theo had passed you a note in Potions, asking you to meet him in the Astronomy Tower after dark. It wasn't a peculiar ask, so you didn't think much of it at the time. The Astronomy Tower had become your and Theo's spot. A quiet place for the two of you to just exist—no interruptions and no expectations from the outside world. Your house rivalry was nothing in that tower. It was just you and Theo.

The two of you would spend hours hiding there, often cuddled on top of a lush blanket you had hidden nearby. You'd talk about anything and everything with him, from learning about each other's likes and dislikes to venting about classes and classmates. On nights where the two of you favoured serenity, it was never unpleasant. You'd embrace the quiet, exchanging sweet kisses all the while enjoying the comfort and protection of his arms.

That night in September was different, though. You sensed it the minute you ascended the steps to see Theo standing stiffly by the railing, his gaze concentrating on a bird on the horizon.

Theo didn't even turn to face you—acknowledge you—before he was muttering the words that shattered your heart into pieces.

"I'm over this." Theo said, his tone void of any emotion. His hand clutched onto the railing so tightly that his knuckles were pale.

Stunned silence fell over you. You just looked at him with a puzzled expression.

"Did you hear what I said?" Theo turned to you then, and you could see the pained expression on his features. But then something shifted, and his expression turned cold. "I'm breaking up with you."

His words on their own were harsh, but the inflection on each syllable felt like he was personally twisting a serrated knife into your heart.

"I don't understand." You said. "Why? What did I—"

"I feel like you're getting attached, and I think we've run our course." Theo interrupted. His eyes, the ones you became so accustomed to, were dark and flooded with an expression even you weren't familiar with. Theo scoffed. "You didn't actually think we'd last, did you?"

Maybe it was the naive and hopeless romantic in you, but you truly believed you would. House rivalries, judgemental friends, and family expectations were merely obstacles the two of you would deal with together. You just felt so strongly about him, and you were certain he felt the same about you.

"Did you hear what I said?" The Theodore standing in front of you jerks you back to the present.

You blink, and you nearly drop your fork.

"I heard you," you say firmly, returning your attention back to the half-eaten plate in front of you. You make yourself look busy and uncaring (as much as you could with food and a full stomach), as if Theodore's sudden presence had no effect on you.

Theodore shifts in his spot, his eyes darting to the empty seat in front of you, silently contemplating whether he should take it or cut his losses and leave. Reluctantly, he settles on the former. This makes you tense, your lips pursing as he sits. It doesn't help that you were highly attentive to the whispers; your classmates were surely speculating why Theodore Nott would be choosing the company of a muggle-born on Christmas Eve. You put down your fork, bring your gaze to his, and let out an exhausted breath.

"Nott, what do you want?"

Hearing his last name from you makes his jaw clench. It was cold and formal, stripped of any history you two shared.

"Just wanted to know if you were as happy as you looked."

"You have no right to that type of information anymore."

"Humour me."

You glare at him. Theodore looks back at you with such shy tenderness that your gaze softens slightly.

Am I happy? you think.

Some days, sure. But most days, you find yourself wandering back to that dreadful night in September. Even after all these months, you still wonder if you had just said something different or fought back instead of taking it, maybe you and Theo would still be together.

It was why Ginny, the only poor soul who was aware of your relationship with Theo, had set you up with Michael Corner, a cute Ravenclaw boy in your year. He was smart, funny, and occasionally sweet, but he wasn't Theodore Nott.

Still, you persisted. You allowed yourself to indulge in the idea of being with Michael because the brooding Slytherin boy who had your heart had made his choice. You went on a few dates with Michael; he'd walk you to class, sit with you during Quidditch matches, and sometimes—when he was feeling courageous—he'd plant a kiss on your lips in the middle of the bustling corridor.

"I am." You lie, and you bite down on the insides of your cheeks. What good would it do to admit you weren't, especially to the cause of your turmoil?

Theodore watches you, practically analyzing your features. He doesn't have to say anything for you to know he didn't believe you, and you hated that—hated him, for having been so attentive to you that your tells were obvious.

"You are?" Theodore questions.

"That's what I said, didn't I?"

"I think you and I have a habit of saying things we don't mean."

His careful words and wistful gaze make you flush with embarrassment and anger. To this day, you still weren't sure why Theo had broken things off with you, and it was something that had kept you up countless nights. Through gritted teeth and cheeks stinging with remembered hurt, you say, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Theodore starts, his eyes flickering around to ensure no one was listening in. While a few lingering glances were sent your way, everyone was spread out far enough that it'd be hard to eavesdrop. He drops his voice anyway. "I shouldn't have said what I did that night. I didn't mean it. I don't mean it."

The anger bubbling in the pit of your stomach erupts, your eyes blazing. "Is this some sick game to you? It's been three months, Theodore. I spent three months crying over you and wondering what the hell I did to you to be so bloody cruel. And now when I'm finally ready to move on from you, you come back to tell me you... you didn't mean it?" The last words leave a dirty, salty taste in your mouth.

"No, no," Theodore shakes his head, swallowing thickly as you recounted the months of hell. He hadn't been doing any better either, but Theo was generally good at hiding his afflictions. Numbing the pain with weed and alcohol were among his favourite remedies. "It's not a game. It was never a game. You should know me well enough to know that I would never mean any of the things I said."

"Know you?" You almost laugh. You had replayed the breakup and the weeks leading up to it in your mind countless times, trying to make sense of the bullshit non-reason he had given when he broke up with you but nothing made sense. The whole thing made you spiral, questioning everything that had ever happened between you two. "I'm actually convinced I never really knew you, because the guy I knew would never have done that to me."

Having had enough of the conversation, you get up, leaving your half-eaten plate and a pained Theodore at the Gryffindor table. You're almost past the door of the Great Hall when Theo, as a last-ditch effort, grabs a hold of your wrist, hauling you to a stop. You let out a small huff and turn to face him.

"Meet me in the Astronomy Tower after dark." Theodore says softly, almost pleadingly. He makes a conscious effort to ignore all the prying eyes that turned.

"Because that worked out so well for me last time."

"Just—please. If you want to continue never speaking to each other again after that, then fine. But at least let me explain."

You had every intention of ignoring Theodore’s request. He didn’t deserve a chance to explain—the statute of limitations for explaining ended months ago. And yet, you found yourself sneaking out of the Gryffindor common room and up to the Astronomy Tower, inebriated by the countless what-ifs and string of memories: Theo sneaking a kiss on your lips as everyone turned to view whatever Hagrid had for Care of Magical Creatures, Theo resting his hand on your thigh during potions, Theo winking at you as you watched him play Quidditch.

“You’re here.” Theodore says, just as you reach the top of the staircase. He was sitting by the railing.

“I am,” you say as you walk toward him reluctantly. You settle next to him.

Theodore looks at you, and it looks like he’s about to say something, but then he shuts his eyes, shakes his head, and sighs.

You’ve never seen him at a loss for words. He was intentionally silent, sure, but his quick wit never failed him.

“I’ve regretted that night every day, you know.” He speaks up, his solemn eyes trained on yours. “I replay it over and over.”

Theodore’s gaze is unrelenting, brimming with seriousness and a vulnerability that you haven’t seen before. You tear your gaze away from his because the more he talks and looks at you like this, the more you find it hard to breathe.

“Then why do it? Why say those things?” You manage to ask.

Theodore’s jaw clenches. “Lesser of two evils.”

When you look at him with a confused expression, he continues, “It was better to lose you on those terms than to lose you completely.”

Silence falls on both of you, filling the space like a thick fog.

“I lost my mom when I was seven.” Theodore explains, his eyes darkening. “A freak accident.”

Out of the year you and Theo dated in secret, he had rarely mentioned his mom. And if he did, it was small tidbits—precious memories. Regardless of how small and insignificant the memory would seem to others, you gathered how important Theo’s mom was to him. Underneath Theo’s stoic expressions and calculating demeanour was a softness to Theo that could only be accredited to his mom.

“She got caught in the crossfire between some death eaters.” Theodore says, his expression pained. He drops his gaze now, but you keep your eyes on him. There’s a mixture of grief and anger that flashes across his features, and it takes everything in you to hold yourself back from reaching for him. To comfort him.

“It took me years to get over it. I don’t even think I am yet—I’m still angry at my father for allowing this shit into our lives and for continuing to do it.” Theodore says, letting out an exasperated breath. You knew what everyone else knew about Theo’s father—he was a blood purist, rumoured to be loyal to you-know-who. He’d hate you the moment he’d find out you were muggle-born.

Theo meets your gaze now, and it’s your turn to feel winded. It was like you were looking at your Theo again. The sweet, sarcastic, pain-in-your-ass-but-in-a-good-way Theo. “I lost my mom, who meant the world to me, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to handle it if I lost you too. So I pushed you away. I figured it was best to cut our losses before I pulled you into something you had no reason being in. Before I lost you permanently.”

“What’s changed?” You ask, shaking your head. His words were hard to process, but the pieces of the last few months were beginning to click into place. “I’m still me, and last I heard, your dad was still your dad.”

“I realized that, in a way, I was kind of like my dad.”

“What?”

“I mean,” Theo says. “My dad never gave any of us a choice. Not me, and not my mom. We always had to go along with him and deal with the consequences of his actions. I took a choice away from you, and you just had to deal with it. I don’t want to do that anymore. I still think I did it for the right reasons, but I regret it. I want to be with you. I should have told you what I was worried about—told you about the risks of being with me, so we could make a decision together.”

Together.

That’s all you wanted. You were more than willing to have dealt with any obstacle that was thrown your way, so long as you had Theo by your side.

But that was three months ago. And while his words brought goosebumps, butterflies, and heart palpitations, they also brought a slew of conflicting feelings. You understood why he broke things off now, and although his reasoning was well-intended, it didn’t excuse the fact that you had spent the last three months in a state of despair and heartbreak. You didn’t eat as much, your grades dropped, and you couldn’t even look at him until recently in fear of tears and the overwhelming rush of memories.

“So?”

“Theo,” you say softly. Your eyes search his face.

There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips at the sound of his name. Not Theodore, not Nott. Theo.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

He exhales sharply at your response, and his expression shifts as he turns to face the horizon. He wanted you to say it was worth the risk and that you wanted to be with him as much as he did. He wanted you to forgive him for what he did to you. “It’s fine.”

“No—I just... I need to think.” You say quickly. Your heart was screaming for him, but your brain was weary. And if the past three months taught you anything, it was that you needed to act with your brain and not your heart. “I just need time. This was a lot to process.”

“Right, of course.” Theo says with a curt nod. He turns to you again, offering a weak smile. It was his heart’s turn to break. “Well, thanks for coming tonight and letting me explain. I guess, just let me know.”

You watch him stand, brush the dirt off his robes, and turn away. Just as he reaches the staircase back down, he looks back at you. Your eyes catch his gorgeous arctic eyes, your cheeks burning and your heart racing.

"Merry Christmas, by the way." Theo says before he descends down the stairs.

[favefandomimagines]

What Is This Feeling? (a.b)

Summary: love and loathing often ride a thin line

AN: pure enemies to lovers in this

Y/N had known Anthony Bridgerton for as long as she could remember, and for just as long, she had disliked him.

Their acquaintance had been an inevitability, as certain as the changing of the seasons. The Bridgertons and the Y/L/Ns were longtime family friends, their mothers having forged an unshakable bond in their youth.

This meant that from infancy, Y/N and Anthony had been forced into one another’s company at every social event, every garden party, every picnic in Hyde Park.

By all accounts, they should have been the closest of friends.

They were not.

Even as children, Anthony had been insufferable. Bossy, arrogant, and constantly assuming himself to be the leader in whatever game they played, he had grated on Y/N’s nerves from the very start.

And he, in turn, had found her impossibly stubborn and unwilling to yield to his so-called authority.

It had begun with small grievances—the time he had pulled her braid because she dared to beat him in a race, or the time she had retaliated by pushing him into the mud.

Their childhood spats had been the source of endless amusement for their families, who had always laughed and assured them that one day, they would grow out of it.

They had not.

If anything, their disdain had only sharpened with time.

At age eleven, Anthony had declared that girls were utterly useless in matters of sport. Y/N had responded by tripping him into a fountain.

At fifteen, he had teased her about her freckles, and she had stolen his favorite riding crop in revenge.

At seventeen, he had bested her in an argument about Shakespeare, and she had not spoken to him for a full month.

And now, at one-and-twenty, Y/N found herself at the start of her debut season, certain that she would at last be free of Anthony Bridgerton’s interference.

After all, he was a Viscount now. He had responsibilities to attend to, lands to manage, a title to uphold. Surely, he would have far more important things to occupy his time than their long-standing rivalry.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

For as Y/N stepped into the glittering ballroom for her first event of the season, her gown perfectly pressed, her hair arranged in the latest style, her heart fluttering with the excitement of what was to come—her gaze locked onto a familiar figure across the room.

Anthony Bridgerton.

Standing tall, dressed impeccably in black and white, a glass of champagne in hand as he surveyed the room with that ever-present air of authority.

Their eyes met.

He smirked.

Y/N clenched her jaw.

And in that moment, she knew.

She was not free of him at all.

||

Anthony Bridgerton had always known where he stood with Y/N.

She was his rival, his equal in wit, the one person who had never bowed to his authority, never let him have the last word. She had been a thorn in his side since childhood, a constant source of irritation and, if he were being honest, entertainment.

But that night—standing at the edge of the ballroom, his drink forgotten in his hand—he realized something he was not prepared for.

She was no longer just Y/N.

She was Miss Y/L/N now—a refined woman of society, dressed in the softest shade of blue, her hair styled to perfection, her lips curved in a smile as she laughed at something that Lord Milton had said.

Anthony's grip tightened on his glass.

It was a sight he had never seen before—her poised, graceful, engaging in polite conversation instead of some heated argument with him.

And it unsettled him.

For years, he had convinced himself that their rivalry was merely a game. A battle of wits, nothing more.

But now?

Now, he saw the truth.

He had never been indifferent to her.

Not once.

He had simply been too blind—too proud—to acknowledge what had been there all along.

And now, every eligible man in the room had finally noticed what he had refused to see.

Including Lord Milton.

Anthony barely held back a sneer as he watched the man lean in just a bit too close, his hand lingering as he reached for Y/N’s dance card.

"Must you glare so intensely, Brother?"

Anthony turned, finding Daphne beside him, her brows raised in amusement. Simon, ever composed, stood at her side, his gaze flickering between Anthony and Y/N with a knowing smirk.

"I am not glaring," Anthony said stiffly.

Daphne snorted. "Oh, you most certainly are."

Simon chuckled. "In fact, if looks could kill, I believe Lord Milton would have already met his end."

Anthony scowled. "I am merely observing."

"Observing," Daphne repeated, her tone skeptical. "Is that what we are calling it now?"

Anthony set his jaw, refusing to rise to their baiting.

But his sister was not finished. "If you dislike the idea of Y/N with other suitors so much, perhaps you should consider doing something about it."

Simon hummed in agreement. "An excellent suggestion. Rather than brooding in the corner like a lovesick fool, you could simply tell her how you feel."

Anthony shot him a sharp look. "Do not be ridiculous. I do not—" He hesitated, the words I do not feel anything for Y/N catching in his throat.

Because it was a lie.

A lie so blatant, so undeniable, that even he could not say it aloud.

Daphne tilted her head, studying him. "Oh, Anthony," she sighed. "You truly are a fool, aren't you?"

He exhaled sharply, downing the rest of his drink before muttering, "Even if I were to feel something for her, it would be irrelevant."

Simon raised a brow. "Irrelevant?"

"Yes," Anthony said firmly, as if saying it enough times might make it true. "Even if I did entertain the notion—which I do not—Y/N would never accept it. We are… incompatible."

Daphne scoffed. "You have been arguing with that woman since childhood, and you expect us to believe you have never once considered that you might enjoy it?"

Anthony ignored her.

The very idea of admitting his feelings—of exposing himself in such a way—was utterly unthinkable.

He was not a man who allowed himself vulnerability.

And he certainly would not start now.

No.

There was only one solution.

He would simply have to ensure that no other man could claim her.

No other man deserved to breathe the same air as Y/N.

And so, as Lord Milton reached for Y/N’s hand, as she laughed at whatever ridiculous comment had left his lips, Anthony made a silent vow.

By the end of the season, every last one of her suitors would be gone.

||

For the first time in her life, Y/N had something Anthony Bridgerton did not—a fresh start.

The debut season was meant to be a new beginning, a chance for young women to make advantageous matches and establish themselves in society.

Y/N was determined to enjoy every moment of it, to finally be free of the constant back-and-forth with Anthony, the infuriating debates, the exasperating arguments.

And, most importantly, she was determined to find a match—a man who was not Anthony Bridgerton.

She was off to a strong start. The season had barely begun, and already, she had a string of suitors vying for her attention. Lords, viscounts, and gentlemen all seemed taken with her wit, her charm, her ability to converse intelligently on a variety of topics.

Tonight’s ball was no exception.

She stood near the terrace, engaged in a pleasant conversation with Lord Milton, a handsome young viscount with kind eyes and a warm smile. He was intelligent, well-mannered, and most importantly, he did not treat her as if she were some bothersome child, as some men did.

“I must say, Miss Y/L/N,” Milton said, a teasing lilt in his voice, “you are a far superior conversationalist than most young ladies of the ton. You do not simply nod along and agree with everything I say.”

Y/N smiled. “And I never shall, my lord. I believe a good debate is far more enjoyable than idle flattery.”

“Ah, a woman after my own heart.” He grinned. “Tell me, do you enjoy poetry?”

“Very much.”

“Then I must recite for you a verse from—”

“Oh, forgive me, Lord Milton,” a voice interrupted smoothly. “But I believe Miss Y/L/N prefers Byron to Wordsworth.”

Y/N stiffened.

She knew that voice.

She turned—slowly, deliberately—her expression carefully neutral.

There, standing beside her with that infuriatingly smug expression, was none other than Anthony Bridgerton.

Lord Milton blinked in surprise. “Ah, Lord Bridgerton. I was not aware that you and Miss Y/L/N were well-acquainted.”

“Oh, quite the opposite,” Y/N said sweetly before Anthony could answer. “The Viscount and I are merely—”

“Old friends,” Anthony cut in.

Y/N fought the urge to grind her teeth.

Milton smiled. “How delightful.”

Anthony returned the smile, though there was something undeniably sharp beneath it. “Yes. Delightful.” He turned his gaze to Y/N, his dark eyes dancing with amusement. “How fortunate that I happened upon you. I could not possibly allow Lord Milton to continue without knowing your true literary preferences.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “How thoughtful of you.”

“Always,” Anthony said smoothly.

Lord Milton, seemingly oblivious to the tension between them, chuckled. “Well, I suppose I must ask—do you truly prefer Byron, Miss Y/L/N?”

She forced a smile. “I enjoy both poets equally, my lord.”

Anthony tutted. “I believe, dear Y/N, that you once referred to Wordsworth’s work as ‘a dull attempt at sentimentality with far too many daffodils.’”

Y/N did grind her teeth this time.

Milton let out a surprised laugh. “Is that so?”

She shot Anthony a glare. “It was a private conversation.”

Anthony smirked. “And yet, here we are.”

Lord Milton, still smiling, glanced toward the refreshment table. “Would you care for some lemonade, Miss Y/L/N?”

“That would be lovely,” she said, grateful for the reprieve.

As Milton walked away, Y/N turned to Anthony, her expression darkening. “What precisely do you think you are doing?”

Anthony clasped his hands behind his back, feigning innocence. “Making conversation.”

“You are interfering.”

“Interfering?” He placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. “Why, I would never.”

Y/N huffed. “Do you not have anything better to do than meddle in my affairs?”

Anthony tilted his head, considering. “I could be dancing. Or drinking. Or engaging in dull conversation with people who bore me.”

She crossed her arms. “Then why are you here?”

He smirked. “Because this is far more entertaining.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “You delight in vexing me.”

“Immensely,” he admitted.

She exhaled sharply. “I do not need you scaring off my suitors, Anthony.”

“Scaring them off?” He feigned surprise. “Why, I am simply looking out for you.”

She scoffed. “Looking out for me?”

“Yes.” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “I know you far too well, Y/N. These men—they do not know you. They do not know that you loathe embroidery but pretend to enjoy it because it is expected. They do not know that you prefer books with adventure rather than dreary love stories. They do not know that you argue just for the sport of it. And they certainly do not know that you detest Wordsworth with a passion.”

Y/N swallowed, her breath hitching slightly.

He had always known how to get under her skin.

But now, she realized—he also knew her.

Far better than she wanted to admit.

Still, she would not let him win.

She lifted her chin. “And what of you, my lord? You know all these things, and yet, you are not vying for my attention.”

Anthony’s smirk faltered. Just slightly.

She saw it.

Something flickered in his eyes—something she could not quite name.

But then, just as quickly, he recovered.

“I have no desire to vie for anything, dearest Y/N,” he said smoothly. “I simply cannot resist keeping you on your toes.”

Y/N exhaled, steadying herself. “Well, if that is the case, might I make a suggestion?”

He raised a brow. “By all means.”

“Go. Away.”

Anthony chuckled, utterly unbothered. “Tempting, but no.”

Y/N clenched her fists.

And at that moment, Lord Milton returned, holding out a glass of lemonade.

“Your drink, Miss Y/L/N.”

She accepted it with a grateful smile. “Thank you, my lord.”

Milton turned to Anthony. “Will you be joining us in conversation, Bridgerton?”

Anthony smirked. “Oh, I would not dream of intruding.”

With one last look at Y/N—one that she swore held something more than amusement—he inclined his head and walked away.

Y/N exhaled, turning back to Milton with an apologetic smile. “Now, you were saying?”

But her mind was not on Milton anymore.

It was still lingering on Anthony Bridgerton.

And she hated it.

||

Y/N had spent years perfecting the art of ignoring Anthony Bridgerton.

She had learned to tune out his smug voice during childhood arguments, to roll her eyes and walk away when he goaded her into debates, and to simply pretend he did not exist when he became too insufferable.

But now? Now it seemed impossible.

Since the start of the season, Anthony had made it his mission to interfere with her courtship. At first, she had thought it mere coincidence—that he simply happened to be near whenever she spoke with a suitor, that he just so happened to accidentally insert himself into every conversation.

But after the third ball, when he interrupted her dance with Lord Avery to offer unsolicited critique on Avery’s footwork, she realized it was no accident at all.

Anthony Bridgerton was sabotaging her.

And she was going to kill him for it.

She stormed into Lady Danbury’s garden party, her gloves clenched in her fists, her jaw set in determination. The air was warm with the scent of roses, and the ladies and gentlemen of the ton laughed and conversed in elegant clusters. But Y/N paid them no mind.

Her target was already in sight.

Anthony stood near the fountain, looking as at ease as ever in his navy tailcoat, his golden-brown hair just slightly tousled as he conversed with a group of gentlemen. He laughed at something one of them said, his grin lazy and confident, as if he did not have a care in the world.

Infuriating man.

Y/N marched straight toward him, ignoring the curious glances from those around her.

“Lord Bridgerton.”

Anthony turned at the sound of her voice, and upon seeing the storm in her eyes, his smile widened. “Miss Y/L/N. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She stopped before him, hands on her hips. “We need to talk.”

His brows lifted. “Alone?”

She huffed. “Yes.”

The gentlemen around them exchanged knowing looks, murmuring excuses as they stepped away.

Anthony smirked. “I do believe you just frightened away half the eligible men in this garden.”

“I would not have to frighten them away if you did not do so first.”

His expression remained infuriatingly amused. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Y/N crossed her arms. “Do not play the fool, Anthony. I know you have been meddling.”

He placed a hand over his heart, feigning innocence. “Meddling? Me?”

“Yes, you,” she snapped. “You have miraculously appeared at every event where I have had the chance to make a connection with a suitable gentleman. And every time, you have managed to disrupt it in some way.”

Anthony chuckled. “Perhaps it is fate.”

She glared. “It is not fate. It is you.”

“Well,” he said, tilting his head, “I would argue that I am rather fateful.”

Y/N nearly screamed.

Instead, she took a deep breath, willing herself to remain calm. “Tell me, my lord—why do you insist on making my life miserable?”

His smirk faltered for just a moment, but he quickly recovered. “Miserable? No, no. I simply wish to ensure that you make the right choice.”

She scoffed. “The right choice? And who, pray tell, gave you the authority to determine what that is?”

“As your childhood companion—”

“Nemesis.”

“—and longtime friend,” he emphasized, ignoring her correction, “it is my duty to see that you do not throw your future away on a man who does not deserve you.”

Y/N exhaled sharply, searching his face for some sort of explanation beyond the one he was giving. “So, that is what this is? You have taken it upon yourself to be my guardian?”

Anthony sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I would not put it quite like that—”

“Then how would you put it?” she pressed. “Because to me, it seems as though you are doing everything in your power to prevent me from securing a match.”

Anthony hesitated. For the first time, there was something uncertain in his expression.

And for the first time, Y/N felt her heart stutter.

Something was off.

She narrowed her eyes, stepping closer. “Tell me the truth, Anthony. Why are you doing this?”

His jaw tightened.

For a long moment, he said nothing.

Then, at last, he spoke—his voice lower, rougher.

“Because the thought of you with any of them makes me mad.”

Y/N inhaled sharply.

Anthony clenched his fists. “I have tried—God knows, I have tried—to ignore it. To brush it aside. To pretend that it is nothing but the remnants of our childhood quarrels. But it is not.”

His dark eyes locked onto hers, blazing with an emotion she could not ignore.

“It is jealousy, Y/N.” He exhaled. “It is envy. It is the maddening realization that I do not loathe you at all.”

Silence.

The world around them faded, the garden party distant, meaningless.

It was just them.

Anthony’s confession hung between them, unspoken words pressing against Y/N’s chest like a weight she did not know how to carry.

For years, she had believed that their rivalry was simple—that it was nothing more than mutual irritation, a battle of wits they both enjoyed, a game they had played since childhood.

But now, standing before him, hearing the raw honesty in his voice, she realized—

It had never been hatred.

It had always been something more.

Y/N could not believe it.

No—she refused to believe it.

Anthony Bridgerton, the man who had spent years getting under her skin, the man who had made it his life’s work to challenge her at every turn, was now claiming to feel something more than rivalry?

It was absurd.

Ridiculous.

Impossible.

And yet—his words lingered.

Because the thought of you with any of them makes me mad.

It is jealousy, Y/N. It is envy. It is the maddening realization that I do not loathe you at all.

She had replayed them in her mind again and again since the moment he had uttered them, searching for any hidden meaning, any other explanation beyond the one he wanted her to believe.

And she had found one.

Anthony had always demanded her attention.

From the moment they were children, when he would steal her ribbons just to make her chase him, when he would argue with her about everything, simply because he knew she would rise to the challenge.

He had always known she would meet him blow for blow, word for word.

And now? Now her attention was elsewhere.

And he hated it.

That was all this was.

Not love. Not affection. Not some grand, romantic realization.

Just his insufferable need to win.

And she would not let him win this.

So, the next time they found themselves alone—this time in the dimly lit corner of the Bridgertons’ ballroom, away from the sea of dancers and watchful eyes—she did not let him speak first.

“I know what this is.”

Anthony stilled. “Do you?”

She nodded, arms crossed over her chest. “You do not care for me, Anthony. You never have.”

A flash of something—hurt?—flickered in his expression, but it was gone before she could name it.

“You are mistaken.”

“No,” she said sharply, stepping closer. “I am right. I know you, Anthony. You have always needed someone to challenge you, someone to push against. And until now, I was the only one who ever dared.”

His jaw tightened.

She pressed on. “And now, my attention is no longer yours. Now, other men speak to me, court me, dance with me, and you—” She exhaled, shaking her head. “You hate it.”

Anthony’s hands clenched at his sides. “Damn right, I do.”

Her breath hitched.

“I hate it,” he continued, his voice low and furious, “because not a single one of them deserves you.”

She lifted her chin. “And you do?”

“Yes.”

The word was so firm, so absolute, that it sent a shiver through her.

She refused to let it sway her.

“Prove it,” she said.

He blinked. “What?”

“If this is real—if what you feel for me is not just a product of your arrogance, your need to win—then prove it.”

He took a step closer, the space between them vanishing. “And how, pray tell, would you have me do that?”

Y/N tilted her head. “Show me that this is not just about losing the only person who ever argues with you—aside from Benedict, of course.”

Anthony let out a short, startled laugh. “Do not compare my quarrels with my brother to what exists between us.”

She arched a brow. “If it is not the same, then prove it.”

Anthony stared at her, the muscles in his jaw shifting, his dark eyes searching hers as though he could see past every wall she had built, every shield she had raised.

And then—

“Very well.”

She faltered. “What?”

His lips curled into a slow, determined smirk. “You wish for proof? You shall have it.”

Y/N swallowed, suddenly unsure if she had made a grave mistake.

Because if there was one thing she had learned over the years, it was this—

Anthony Bridgerton never lost.

And now, for the first time, she feared she would be the one left defenseless.

The proof came in small ways at first.

Anthony no longer interrupted her conversations with suitors—not because he had given up, but because he had changed tactics entirely.

Instead, he outshone them.

Where other men brought her flowers, Anthony sent entire gardens—blooms in colors he knew she loved, notes tucked inside with words that, for once, held no trace of mockery.

Where other men sought to impress her with hollow compliments, Anthony spoke to her as an equal, teasing her, challenging her, making her laugh in a way no one else could.

Where other men sought only to woo her, Anthony knew her.

And that was far more dangerous than anything else.

It was at Lady Cowper’s soirée, weeks later, that the truth finally unraveled before her.

She had been speaking with Lord Easton—a respectable, kind gentleman, one who had shown genuine interest in her—when she felt it.

The weight of a gaze.

She turned her head, and there he was.

Anthony.

Standing across the room, watching her, his expression unreadable.

But in his eyes—oh, in his eyes—

There was no rivalry.

No amusement.

Only want.

Only longing.

Only her.

And in that moment, she knew.

This was real.

This was more.

And, God help her, she wanted it too.

So, when he approached her that night, when he pulled her onto the terrace, when he took her hand and looked at her as though she was everything—

She let him.

And when he whispered, “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

She did not.

Instead, she whispered back—

“You were right.”

And then he kissed her.

And for once, there was no competition, no battle to win.

Only two hearts colliding in a war they had both already lost.

[wordsarelife]

—style

pairing: draco malfoy x fem!reader

summary: draco and you always come back to each other, sneaking around in secret, unable to let go, even though it’s getting harder to hide and maybe you're not willing to keep the secret any longer

warnings: slight angst but ends in fluff, height difference mentioned

your back was leaning against the castle's wall, arms crossed, you quirked a brow at the boy across from you. he was spotting a similiar expression, his arms crossed like you and face in a deep frown, unmoving as you nodded for him to talk.

"i'm not gonna apologize first" you shrugged, deciding to have it like this if he wanted to be difficult.

"well, me neither" he spat, voice venomous as he looked at you unimpressed, your threat not having the least bit of effect on him. "i wouldn't even know what for"

"you were the one that came back, draco" you reminded. "we agreed that whoever came back first had to apologize"

"well, i'm not doing that"

"then i'm not kissing you" you shrugged, turning your body as if to leave, before his hand grabbed your shoulder, turning you back around in a swift motion.

before you could protest or say anything else about his sudden action, his lips were on yours, pulling you in through the feeling that evaporated in your body.

you moaned into his mouth, not even caring that he didn't apologize, as he pressed you against the wall.

draco and you came from completely different worlds. he was a proud slytherin, someone that valued social standing and reputation above everything else.

you were a gryffindor, hanging along the golden trio most of the time, but basically being friends with everyone, no matter who they were or from which family they came. you didn't mind as long as you liked them.

draco and you had hated each other from the first encounter on. arrogant as he was, he had introduced himself to harry, muttering something about the wrong kind of people (eyeing ron and you) he had chosen to spend his time with.

you rivalry reached it's peak during third year when hermione had hit him and you had caught him days later as he was trying to throw something into her cauldron during potions class. you had slapped his hand back, resulting in him breathing in whatever he had held in there and spending a week in the infirmary, throwing up hours on end.

you gained two weeks of detention from snape, but quickly decided it was worth it, considering you had saved your friend from an even worse fate.

but the real change of your relationship had begun during fourth year. you had noticed that he grew into his looks and you couldn't believe it, but his cockiness actually attracted you.

draco continued making no secret of disliking you and your friends, but you noticed his eyes linger on you longer than they had before.

it had been a week of constant fighting, hormones high and upcoming exams stressing the both of you, where one thing had led to another and you found yourselves in shared detention with professor mcgonagall who punished you to sort through and clean her classroom.

"this is all your fault" draco muttered, cloth in hand as he rubbed it along the table, that picked the water up quickly.

"sure" you nodded with a role of your eyes. the row of goblets in front of you, used for the first year classes, turning out to be a particular hard thing to clean. "as if you didn't start the fight"

"i merely concluded obvious information"

"pff" you made, sending him a glare across the room. "that's not what i would call it"

"let's hear it then, genius"

"i'd call it an uneven distribution of arrogance and stupidity" you smiled smugly as you set down another goblet in front of you.

"you take that back!" draco let go off the cloth in his hand and dashed across the room, pushing his hands to his hips and looking down on you as if to try and dare you to say more.

"no" you shook your head, rising up from your chair so you were on an even level with him.

"one last chance, l/n"

"or what? you will send daddy to straigthen me out?" you puffed air out between your lips, not even caring about his answer. "you've been using the same empty threats for years, malfoy, it's honestly gotten boring at this point."

his eyes widened, switching to collect the glimmer of your lips as a memory and before he could properly think of what he was doing, he had closed the space between you, kissing you softly.

it had taken exactly ten seconds for both of you to realize what had happened, quickly breaking apart.

"you just kissed me!" you muttered stunned, pointing an accusing finger in his direction.

"you kissed me" he shook his head, just as shocked as you, as he tried to remember what had happened exactly.

"no" you corrected firmly. "i'm not taking the blame for this mess. this is solely on you"

"you kissed back though" he concluded, with a final nod. "don't ever do that again"

"well, okay?" you shrugged "i won't as long as you don't ever kiss me again"

the tension between you was palpable, as you kept holding eye contact, no one of you moving as both of you tried to find out what the kiss would mean for your relationship, or more so lack of, moving forward.

it had been a sudden decision, maybe because you had spent all your years at school trying to one up draco malfoy, but you didn't think twice, before you pushed your mouth against his once more.

this time the kiss lasted longer and both of you had to catch your breath.

"i thought i told you to never do that again"

you nodded, before you smirked, "you said i should never kiss you back"

"yeah" he nodded, admitting that you hadn't done anything he had forbidden. "and you said i should never kiss you again"

"never is such a harsh word" you shrugged and just half a second later you were kissing once more, your hands gliding into his neck as you pressed him closer.

what began that day in the classroom accompanied you through the school years that followed. you and draco would put on a facade in front of your friends and pretend like you still couldn't stand each other, which was, to be honest, not even far from the truth considering he still constantly annoyed you. all while you would meet in secret, sneaking around the castle and hooking up with each other behind everyone's back.

apart from sleeping with each other not much changed between you. you never declared what you did to be a relationship, although both of you never met other people.

draco was the one constant through your teenage years. sometimes you would go longer without the other, but you would always come back, like a drug you couldn't stop taking even if it had the potential to destroy you in the end.

draco ended the kiss, pressing his forehead against your own. "sorry" he muttered and you furrowed your brows in surprise.

he had never apologised before, even if that was your rule. he would always suck up for a while, until you finally accepted that he was somewhat sorry, without actually saying it.

"hmm" you hummed, pressing one more kiss against his mouth, before you broke away and grabbed your bag off the floor. "we've got herbology"

draco nodded and turned around, picking up his own bag. "i'll go around the courtyard, you'll go now"

"sure" he softly grabbed your neck with his hand, bringing you close again and kissing you, more passionately than the moment allowed. you were way too flustered when he let go off you, but he just nodded for you to go. so you did.

you kept thinking about him for the rest of the day. through the whole herbology class, most of potions class and even charms, which was you favorite subject.

it hadn't been yesterday when you realized that you maybe didn't still find him as annoying as you did back when you were children. that you had maybe even grown fond of him a little, or whatever it was that you had.

and there was a stupid part of you that longed for more. for more of whatever it was.

what you had enjoyed at first, was now the part you hated most about your little arrangement. sneaking around, lying to your friends and always keeping something from them, while they viewed you as family, as someone they knew everything about.

you just wanted them to know and maybe you also wanted to know if he would stay. stay at the possibility of people finding out about you.

all that went through your head until the next day. and realistically you knew he wasn't what you wanted him to be. you knew draco well enough. he would never agree to go public, much less to even be in a relationship with you.

so it was pretty clear what you had to do.

you knew that it was the right decision in the long run. for both of you.

you met in the same hallway. you were leaning against the wall when he arrived, a distant smile on his face, that only really broke out when his eyes fell on you.

"hey" he muttered. you let him kiss you, before he stepped back, leaning across from you.

"hi" you said, testing the waters. he furrowed his brows and crossed his arms.

"what is it?" he asked unimpressed. he was used to you berating him for something he had said or done the day before. most often it was something regarding your friends and even though he never admitted it, you noticed his behaviour change, when you had been angry about something.

"nothing" you averted your eyes. you could hear him step forward, on edge, not used to the sadness in your voice.

times you had been apart came normally right after you had fought with each other. always screaming loudly, having found something to be annoyed about, before you decided not to see each other anymore, until one of you eventually came back.

"tell me" draco urged, the calmness in his voice long gone. "did something happen?" normally you would have made fun of him for his unusual care, but now you even felt sorry about it.

"i don't think we should continue to see each other" you shrugged, acting as if you didn't even care.

draco laughed, or rather puffed out air through his nose, before he shook his head. "i told you i was sorry"

"it's not about that"

"then what?" he stepped even closer. "something with you friends? i didn't even really see them yesterday"

"that's not it, draco"

there were a few seconds of silence, before he sighed loudly. "is it a guy?"

"no"

"okay, so you're just doing this? for what?" he threw his arms up, like he couldn't understand anything anymore. "you'll come back anyway"

you didn't answer anything, staring at him blankly, not having the strength to even say it out loud. without you wanting him to, he caught the uncertainty in your eyes.

"..you'll come back" he repeated, voice low. "right?"

"draco" you sighed, not knowing what to tell him.

"no, don't be like that" he shook his head and you saw that he was trying hard not to show you how much he cared. "don't act like you have to console me, don't act like you're breaking up with me"

"i'm not" you nodded. "but i'm not coming back either"

he pushed his hands into the pockets of his trousers, not even looking at you when you picked up your bag. you tried to catch his eyes, but it was to no avail. so you just walked away, not even knowing if you felt relieved or sad at the predicament that he would never be coming close to you again.

you walked through the halls of the castle and opened the door to the courtyard. the weather had turned rainy, thick clouds hanging over the towers of the castle, hiding them in the white air. the rain hit the ground mercilessly and you realized too late that it had been a stupid idea to walk across.

"you can't just do that" the voice behind you was so sudden and loud that your bag almost hit the wet ground beneath you.

draco caught up with you quickly, not caring about the rain one bit.

"what?" you asked, continuing your quick walk through the yard. but admittedly it was to no use, considering that you were already wet to the bones.

draco grabbed your shoulder, making you halt in your step and turn to look at him. "you can't just decide that" he said "it's not your decision to make"

"it's not yours either"

"why are you like that?" he ignored your previous answer. "i thought you liked this"

"i did" you nodded, seeing no reason to lie. "until i didn't"

"what does that even mean?" draco pushed his wet hair back annoyed. he wasn't able to understand you and scarily enough, that was the first time in years he failed to read what was going on with you.

"that means that we have to stop seeing each other"

"but why?"

you ignored him, moving your arm so he lost his grip on you, walking further through the wet garden. draco followed you.

"why?" he repeated, "what do you want me to do?"

"nothing, draco, it's fine"

"if this is some psychological trick, i swear to god"

"it's not, draco" your voice became louder, trying to drain out the rain that muffled it. "just forget about me"

"what if i can't?" he had stopped moving, staring at you blankly when you turned around. you had never seen him like this. so vulnerable, so honest.

"it didn't even matter" you simply said, "it was nice for a while, but it's over now"

"so you just decided that?"

"yes"

"but it wasn't just nice" he came closer, his face painfully twisted, as if to try and see your reaction to it. to get something from you. to see if it really didn't matter. "it was different. it wasn't just something"

"then what was it?" you pushed him to say more, to hear what you needed to for so long. "tell me why it was different? i thought you hated me"

"i did everything but that" he muttered and you had a hard time understanding him.

"why did you never say that before?" you asked, stray tears mixing with the rain on your face. "why are you so desperately trying to convince me of something you would've denied if i had asked you before? why didn't it matter before? why didn't you say something sooner?" your voice evolved into a scream, begging him to answer.

"why do you think i always came back?" he matched the loudness of your voice, anger blending with desperation as his blue eyes crashed into yours.

"why do you think i did?"

"i thought you knew" he shook his head, not understanding how it had come so far he had to explain it to you. "i thought i made it clear"

"thought you made what clear?" you asked, your voice louder than his, as he had grown more quiet. "that you didn't hate me? tolerated me even? that you—“

"that i fucking love you" his scream made you shut up immediately, eyes wide as you stared at him. "and maybe i should've actually said that or maybe i'm not what you want anymore—"

"what did you think would happen? did you think i would just accept it? not knowing how you really feel?"

"no" he shook his head "but i had hoped you would stay until i finally gathered up the courage to say it"

"how long?"

he sighed, looking annoyingly sweet as raindrops fell down from his hair and onto his cheeks. he looked like he was crying in an artful way. beautiful even, you thought, as you kept your eyes on his face like your life depended on it.

"mcgonagalls detention in fourth year"

"you couldn't have possibly loved me back then"

"maybe i didn't" he shrugged "but it was the first time i felt like this, when you kissed me"

"you kissed me" you corrected, but unable to stop the smile from breaking out.

"well, what do you say?"

"you want to hear it back?" you asked.

"preferably yes, but for now a sorry would do"

"for now, a hot shower would do" you rolled your eyes. "alone"

"and after that?" his voice lost a bit of it's cockiness, returning back to the insecurity it had held a few minutes before, "what then?"

you pressed your lips against his and he took the kiss with surprise, before he reciprocated it.

you pulled back, looking up at him, drenched from head to toe, but absolutely beautiful in his eyes.

"i'll come back"

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

The rivalry between wb!reader and Tim is basically just “I waited three and a half years, white man did I in one week.” And it’s very funny to me

I LOVE THE DR UMAR REFERENCE BUT IT SO TRUE THOUGH

In the beginning, the reader hated and envied Tim to a sickly amount. The two of you are pretty similar in likes and dislikes and weird interests; it's just that he's popular and you're not. You're actively tweaking. Like, what do you mean he was at the top of his class, did acrobatics, while still being friends with both nerds and jocks? Life is just not fair. You're fuming with jealousy; you want to see him fail so badly. You're looking like the Reverse Flash, praying for his downfall each night. And what makes it even worse is he refuses to admit he's a loser and a weirdo. He collects Transformers in his spare time, and he will never admit you're trying to bond with him over your love of manga and shounen. He just calls Naruto corny like he wasn't a NaruSasu shipper at one point. He'll never admit he's like you, but Tim is also a little jealous of you. He'd rather die than admit it. But how you're so unapologetically yourself is refreshing. You’re so passionate and excited about things; you show off your stacks of Bleach katanas you've collected over the years. You're you, and he's so scared to be him. He's weird, but he'd rather it be surface-level than your weird, even though deep down, his freak cannot be matched.

So, when you come to him yapping about D&D, he doesn't know how to feel. He's been hiding that part of himself for so long; it's scary for it to pop out. So he pretends like he doesn't know or care, when he does, and it's eating away at him like a mouse chewing on drywall. So when he gets obsessed, he's on you like crazy. You think this is a bloody rivalry that will end with somebody dead on the floor bleeding out while the other stands victorious; but in Tim's eyes, he's spending time with his sweet younger sibling who loves shounen manga. The reader is having a mid-life crisis, not being able to make actual friends that aren't surface-level and trying to make people remember their names, while Tim is picking out little Vocaloid keychains, wondering which one you like. You're gatekeeping games from him and niches, but he'll find out easily. You can't even watch Yo-kai Watch with him, reciting the entire wiki. You hate him so much, and he really wants you to like him. He'd cut off all his friends if it meant hanging out with you and being a good big brother.

"Look, [Name], there's a new Invincible comic out; let's read it together!" Who the fuck snitched on you and told him you like Invincible? Can't have shit in this house!

[sooniebby]

Random little Drabble, though it won’t make sense if you haven’t read maknae lol. It’s not really attached to anything? But it does give a sneak peak into Yohan/Reader/Garam(Hwan)’s dynamic for his upcoming fic and just Yohan in general

Since this is random, it’s not gonna be written entirely like a fic—mixed with ideas and actually writing

Anyway, without the existence of Mingi, reader would have already been considered as apart of Miracle. However—it’d play the same as Yohan losing leadership to you but I think I’d make it more severe

The members themselves would actually vote to have you become the leader after an incident during a dance practice—since it’s three of them voting it could’ve come down to a tie but it was unanimous, which left Yohan bitter since he knew the others longer than you

But somehow you had the others “smitten”

Yohan isn’t advert but he doesn’t hide his dislike towards you—he always makes sure to not stand by you and almost rarely mentions you by name

Fans pick up on this but they don’t take it too seriously, just viewing it as a rivalry between friends. But, since everything is through your viewpoint, who’s to say Yohan hates you as much as you think?

In any case—the relationship stays stagnant for the group’s first year, until Yohan starts noticing that you’ve been leaving the dorm late and returning after midnight. He doesn’t say anything about it until Kihyun mentions that you keep seeing the same man

This for some reason (he knows why) pisses him off that he stays up and waits for you to come home one night.

“Thanks, Hyung.” He’d heard you say right outside the door, you were obviously putting on a voice—or maybe you’ve just never spoken to him so casually

Yohan almost just went back to his room when it was suddenly silent. But then he heard a bang and you releasing a gasp, an almost high pitched gasp. He couldn’t stop himself as he stormed over to the front door and pulled it open.

Much to his shock, you were practically in the arms of another man. If Yohan was thinking clearly he’d see that it wasn’t a romantic scene—hardly. The man was just holding your forearm, the same forearm Yohan accidentally bruised a few—

“—You’re flirting out in the open? Are you stupid?” Yohan blurted out, gritting his teeth.

You looked like a kicked puppy as you quickly tried to defend yourself when the man pulled away from you. He stood up straight, showing that he was taller than Yohan and quickly slammed his fist on the door.

“I didn’t know you could speak so informally to your hyung, who are you again…? Doha..? Ah, no.. Hyojin? No.. Kihyun? Hm, but i remember Kihyun being handsome..” the man must’ve been smirking beneath his mask, his gaze sharp.

“Ah. Park Yohan… I’ve heard… many things about you. (Name)-Ah just told me… about a certain thing that happened.”

Yohan glared at the man who he knew nothing about. Just who the hell did this guy think he was? “Our relationship is—“

“—relationship? That’s cute.” The man pulled his hand away and reached up, pulling down his mask. Yohan felt his body freeze.

Hong Hwan. You.. you were friends with Hong Hwan?

Yohan glanced back over at you as you quickly grabbed Hwan’s arm and tried calming him down. But he couldn’t hear anything you were saying.

All he was thinking at the moment

Was that you’ve never touched him like that—not even the other members.

And more importantly, what was your relationship to Hong Hwan?

[aphroditelovesu]

Yandere Viserys I Targaryen w/Second Wife!Reader Headcanons (Romantic)

❝ 🐉 — lady l: Happy New Year!!! First headcanons of the year and I hope you like it. I hope you have a great year, good things come to you and good reading! Forgive me for any mistakes ❤️✨️.

❝tw: unspecified age gap, overprotection, not compatible with canon and Reader is the mother of Aegon, Helaena, Daeron and Aemond.

❝🐉pairing: yandere!viserys i targaryen x female!reader.

Viserys never wanted to remarry after the death of his beloved Aemma. The idea of ​​replacing her with another woman made him sick. He didn't want to get married again, but he was the King and he had his obligations to the Realm. To have a strong bloodline and strengthen the House Targaryen.

Although he didn't like the idea, Viserys after a period of time began looking for a potential bride. He received several powerful offers, such as the Velaryon and the Hightower, but he did not feel comfortable marrying Lady Laena or Lady Alicent.

So he kept looking and that's how he met you. An attractive young woman, but older than the last ones, and from a house powerful enough to provide strength to the Realm. Viserys was immediately attracted to you and knew he wanted to marry you.

The preparations were made quickly and well, Viserys was excited to be able to call you his wife, but in the days before the wedding, he spent time by your side, getting to know you better.

With that, Viserys found out as much as he could about you, about your childhood, your family, and your likes and dislikes. He was more than pleased, especially seeing that you were as interested in history as he was.

Rhaenyra also liked you, although she was apprehensive about the idea of ​​a stepmother, about the possibility of you providing a male heir, she liked you. You were kind to her and assured her that even if you have a son, you will not try to replace her on the Throne.

When you became the second wife of Viserys, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, he was already in love. Much faster than he would like to admit, Viserys was already in your domain and became yours even sooner than anticipated. At first, he felt guilty, guilty that he might be betraying Aemma's memory, but quickly, those thoughts went away. Aemma was dead and you were alive.

Viserys was more than happy to see that you and his daughter were getting along, it made him feel relieved inside. He couldn't wait to have children with you, to grow his family. When he learned of your first pregnancy, Viserys almost cried with happiness, but there was concern. What if you died during childbirth? He couldn't take another loss, couldn't lose you.

You were very much in love with each other, you had learned to love your husband and he was deeply in love with you. Your mannerisms, your personality, everything enchanted him. Your favorite moments together were when you talked about history, whether it was your House or House Targaryen. Viserys cherished every moment, every smile and look shared.

When you gave birth to a healthy son, Aegon, Viserys was very happy, not only because he had a son, but because you were alive and the birth was peaceful. The next pregnancies were no different, with Helaena, Daeron and Aemond.

You assured him, assure Rhaenyra, that you would not let Aegon usurp or anything like that happen when it was time for Rhaenyra to take the Throne. You adored your stepdaughter and she adored you too, seeing you as a second mother. Viserys would never admit it, but if you asked, he would name Aegon his heir if that was your wish. This shows how much he is in love with you.

You tried your best to fulfill your duties as Queen, mother and wife as best you could, discouraging any possible rivalry the children might have and reassuring your support for Viserys and your stepdaughter. Your main priority was to avoid a war. You presided over the Small Council, advising your husband as best you could.

You hold all power over Viserys, it soon became clear to everyone who really ruled the Seven Kingdoms. You could ask for anything, from the most insignificant to the most absurd thing, and Viserys would fulfill it instantly.

He is extremely overprotective, Viserys fears losing you more than anything and every time you have an entire armada comes out after you. When you are sick, he sends the best maesters to take care of you and will not leave your side until you get better.

If something were to happen to you or one of your children, may the gods be good. Viserys tries his best to avoid war and resolve any conflict with diplomacy, but all that changes when it comes to you. Any insult to you is like an insult to him and any way of hurting you will not be taken lightly.

No matter how peaceful he is, no matter how calm and rational, Viserys is still a Targaryen, a dragon and you should never mess with one of them if they don't want to get burn. Not only will you have your overprotective husband by your side, but also your children who love you deeply and will do anything for you.

You are not Aemma's replacement and Viserys doesn't think so. He thinks of you as yourself and loves you for it. He will always love Aemma, but he loves you in a different way. A more overprotective and possessive way. He can't lose you and he won't.

[skyahri]

Hate |Naruto Men X Reader| HC

Characters: Kakashi Hatake, Shikamaru Nara, Sasuke Uchiha

Summary: Hate is a strong word, but it's also a very fragile one.

Warnings: Brief smut, kissing mentions of p and v. Some angst, but all comfort. Mentions of blood, violence, and death.

Masterlist Ko-fi

- - - - -

Kakashi Hatake

You hated how full of himself he was. He was always talking down to people, to his teammates and so-called friends. He goes out of his way to show people up no matter how inappropriate the situation may be.

He hated that you always stuck up for people he considered weak. He hated how much time and energy you put into helping others instead of focusing on your own training. He hated that you had so much potential, yet seemed to waste it at every opportunity.

As time went on and you were forced into each other's inner circles, your occasional arguments became a constant bicker. It got even worse when you were assigned to his ANBU team. You questioned his every move and fought every decision he made.

In return, he always gave you the least desirable night shifts. He'd make you write all the reports, saying something about needing to learn to respect your elders (he's only a few months older than you).

Once you were put in charge of your own team, things quieted down. Not because either of you had mellowed out, but because you didn't cross paths as often anymore.

Because of how rarely you saw him, you always made sure to make your brief encounters worth it. You had practically written a list of insults to throw his way. He returned the same energy with out hesitation.

Eventually, after his genin team had gone their separate ways and you had finally retired from ANBU, you had a seemingly infinite amount of time to rekindle your rivalry with him.

He always seemed to be heading in the same direction as you were. It didn't matter if you were on your way to the Hokage's office, the shops, or meeting up with someone- he was always there.

You tried to fight with him like the good old days, but it was different now that you were grown adults. Maybe the ungodly amount of trauma combined with the wedge distance had created in your odd relationship had finally put an end to your petty war.

Thinking back, maybe this is what it had been all along, and your stupid kid brain was too proud to admit what was really going on.

Your arguing had turned into kissing the moment he stepped through your apartment door. Things moved quickly, expert hands doing away with endless layers of Jonin uniforms in a rushed attempt to feel more of each other.

It felt right. Like the decades of tension had finally come to a head and you were being forced to deal with it in the most animalistic way possible.

"I hate you."

Your mumbling between desperate kisses. He doesn't acknowledge you immediately, opting to instead lift you by your ass so your legs could wrap around him. He pushes you against the wall, pressing his clothed election right against your womanhood.

"I hate you, too."

Neither of you acknowledges the elephant in the room, that the word you're looking for isn't actually hate. But that's beyond your cloudy minds right now.

Shikamaru Nara

Shikamaru has never really bothered with social pleasantries or subjected himself to cater to what people like and dislike. In fact, he often chastised people for caring what others think.

He always commented about what you wore, how well groomed you were, and the overall effort you put into your appearance each day.

You hated listening to it, which is why you always did your best to avoid him.

It wasn't even about you specifically. You hated hearing how rudely he'd shut down Ino when she would ramble on about anything. You hated when he complained about how loud Naruto and Kiba were despite knowing that they're just excitable people. You hated hearing the damn near sexist remarks he'd make about how stupid people were for giving any shots about how they looked.

It was annoying. It didn't seem to phase anyone else anymore, but that almost made it worse.

You were at your breaking point. Just one comment away from losing your composure and you prayed to God you'd be able to refrain from saying anything too harsh.

But alas, Kakashi had assigned you to yet another mission with him- the sixth one just this month.

At least he waited until you were at the Inn before he started up with you. You honestly don't know why he let you shower first if it was going to be such an issue.

"Finally. I thought you'd be in there forever."

"What the Hell is your problem with me?"

He paused in his tracks. He wasn't expecting you to say anything to his usual grumbling, and especially didn't expect it to be so hostile.

"You always take forever in the bathroom."

"It was twenty minutes. You'll live."

"It wouldn't be that long if you didn't bother with all the extra shit you use."

"Why is it such a problem that I care about what I look like? I don't ever involve you in it and yet you're always talking about it."

He rolled his eyes, about to blow off whatever you were saying, but you started up again before he could.

"All you ever do is bitch and whine and moan about dumb shit that doesn't concern you. I like to look nice. I like wearing clothes that compliment my figure and putting time into the health of my hair and skin. It's not the end of the world, so shut the fuck up about it already."

You walked past him and lay in one of the twin beds, tired from the journey and pissed about your teammate's usual poor behavior.

He didn't say anything. He continued with what he was going to do before the argument and carried on like nothing had happened.

He kept any conversations strictly professional for the duration of the mission, something you were ecstatic about.

It wasn't until a few days after you returned home that you heard from him. He showed up at your apartment unprompted, looking irritated and slightly flustered.

"After talking with my team, it may have come to my attention that I might be kind of an ass."

You invited him in, curious as to what he had to say. He admitted that he had never been called out on it. Most people don't take him too seriously and he may have gotten a bit too comfortable voicing every thought that crossed his mind.

Although he had mostly soothed any nerves you had, you still decided he owed you.

You dragged him into your room, sat him at your vanity, and laughed when he groaned. You pulled out all the stops for him. You took him through your entire routine start to finish and when you were done, you asked him hiw it felt.

He hated that it felt nice. He hated that he suddenly realized how dry his skin usually was and how clean he suddenly felt. He would never fully admit that to you, though.

Him showing up at your apartment the next day, conveniently around the time you usually started these things, was all the confirmation you needed that he no longer deemed it a waste of time.

Sasuke Uchiha

He hated going to the Hokage's office, not because he was still in the thick of earning his freedom after the war, but because he hated Kakashi’s assistant.

You annoy him. He hates that you so confidently push his buttons. He hates that you're just a civilian, but you've been given so much authority over him. It was an unfit existence for the last Uchiha.

You enjoyed messing with him. He would grumble when given his assignment and you made sure to mock him with a playful pout. You'd check in with the ANBU watching over him to make sure he was behaving. You always used that word- behaving. As if he were a child.

Unfortunately for Sasuke, Kakashi isn't in the village right now, meaning he's stuck taking orders from you. He swears Kakashi picked you to oversee him intentionally, knowing how much it would bother him.

He's sitting next to you, helping you go through seemingly endless piles of paperwork. He wasn't sure if this was better than all the D-rank missions he'd been assigned lately, but he begrudgingly accepted the change of pace.

He glances at you through his peripherals. The sun is just going down, the orange light illuminating your soft features. Your usual bratty expression was replaced with a more peaceful one.

This was most likely just as much a break for you as it was for him. He wasn't oblivious to the way you had to reel Kakashi in every day, damn near having to tie him to his chair to get anything done.

"You can go home. I'll finish up here and we can resume tomorrow."

He didn't argue, thankful for relief from the horrifically tedious task. As he was leaving the building, he suddenly got this feeling in his gut that he should stay.

Of course, not wanting to do more paperwork than he was required to, he ignored the feeling and carried on.

He should've stayed. Just an hour after he left, while you were packing up for the night, the tower was raided by rogue nin.

The alarm sounded in the village, immediately calling all available shinobi. Bee, the ANBU assigned to him, gave him permission to lend a hand, and off they went to the tower.

He teleported himself to Kakashi’s office, knowing you would most likely be in there or at least somewhere near. What he wasn't expecting, however, was you standing over a body, kunai in hand and blood splattered across your body.

"Y/N?"

You didn't move, couldn't move. He reached forward, tugged the blade out of your shaky grip, and let it fall to the floor. You let him, not really in the mood to fight any more than you had to right now.

"Is he dead?"

Your question caught him off guard.

"I've never killed anyone before."

Ah. Civilian. Right. Sure, you belonged to a Shinobu village and even worked under the Kage, but that was vastly different than being on the front lines.

He thought for a second. Was he in any sort of position to be responsible for you at the moment? Should he hand you off to one of the other nin and return home?

"Cover your eyes."

It took a minute for his words to register in your hazy mind, but once they did you obeyed. If there was one thing you knew would benefit you, it would be allowing him to take the lead for now.

He put his hand between your shoulder blades and guided you through the hallways, down the stairs, and away from the tower completely. He glanced around, but couldn't find Bee, so he opted to take you back to his apartment. It would cause a lot less trouble if he was where he was supposed to be after all.

At home, he sat you down in the tub and turned on the water. He left you there, letting all the blood loosen from your skin. He returned a moment later, setting a stack of clothes down on the counter and grabbing a rag from the cabinet.

Neither of you spoke as he gently scrubbed your face. When he was done, he got a little bit of shampoo and worked all the red out of your hair.

You were slowly coming out of your daze. It was nice being brought out by something kind and comforting. It was almost enough to distract you from the night's events. Almost.

When he was done, he handed you the cloth, telling you to finish up and see him when you're done. You nodded, standing up and undressing when the door closed. You noticed how clean the water ran, most likely due to how thoroughly the Uchiha had taken care of you.

When you stepped out of the tub, you noticed the clothes on the counter. Upon closer inspection, they were similar to the ones he was wearing now- a t-shirt and sweats.

You joined him in the adjacent bedroom where he waited patiently. He all but forced you into his bed, shutting down all of your protests. When he went to leave the room, you quickly grabbed the fabric of his shirt to stop him.

"Please stay."

He didn't fight you. He walked around to the other side of the bed and sat down, leaning against the headboard and staring blanky in front of him.

You were thankful for the comfort of simply not being alone. Not after tonight, when so much had happened and the trauma was still fresh in your mind.

He tried telling himself that this was not a personal act, but instead one that would aid his village. But who was he kidding? He was realizing you weren't all that terrible and he had just allowed his angst brain to manipulate him into thinking so.

[nayedoll]

Do or drink

joost klein x reader

summary : you and joost dislike each other before an unexpected kiss during a ‘do or drink’ game makes you rethink your feelings.

warnings : enemies to lovers if u squint hard enough, mostly fluff

rpf ahead, do not read if uncomfortable !!!

───────────────────────

“You know what, I’m gonna say it.” Your friend said confidently. “I think you and Joost would make a good couple if you stopped acting like babies,” she added and hid behind your other friend as you grabbed a pillow and threw it at her.

“Oh my god, do not ever say that again,” you yelled at her as they laughed at your exaggerated reaction.

“No but why do you guys hate each other sooo much to begin with?” your friend insisted in a mocking voice, taunting you all the more. You opened your mouth to respond but suddenly paused, leaving your friends in anticipation.

In complete honesty, there was no reason for your shared hatred with Joost. From the first moment you were introduced to him, you had made your resentment for him very clear in different ways, be it responding sarcastically to him or rolling your eyes every time he spoke. You couldn’t quite explain why his face got you so worked up every time. Everything about him just sort of annoyed you; his fluffy blonde hair, the striking blue color of his eyes, the constant smile on his face that was infuriatingly charming or the sound of his laugh whenever he made another one of his stupid jokes.

Joost wasn’t any better himself, though. Any chance he got, he would endlessly tease you and find excuses to start a bickering match with you. The memory of him straight up ignoring your offer for a handshake the first time you met, still got to your nerves, revitalizing your distaste for him.

Eventually your friends accepted your rivalry, as it wasn’t affecting the rest of them, even making it an inside joke. Ironically enough, you spent most of your time with Joost during friends gatherings, the two of you always bickering about the littlest things. In a way you found it fun, often teasing him out of boredom and vice versa. Besides there was an undeniable attraction for one another, one that neither of you were ready to admit yet.

However, things took a turn when your half-drunk friend got the idea to play ‘Do or Drink’ at a house party. Naturally as the game progressed and you all got more drunk, the questions became more intense without much thought behind them.

“Y/n,” your friend said with a simpering smile on her lips and looked at you. You sighed, worried about what would follow, knowing your friends well enough by now.

“I dare you to kiss Joost.” Silence filled the room as the rest of your friends shared knowing smiles and stared intently between the two of you. You turned to face Joost who was already staring right back at you, grinning.

“So?” your friend pressed and you felt your cheeks burn, thankful that the blush on them could be justified by all the drinks you’d had.

“Oh, don’t push her,” Joost said in a condescending tone, “I’m probably her first,” He was smiling even brighter now that he saw how furious his comment had made you, your eyes narrowing at him and lips quivering from frustration, God he was so annoying.

“No I’ll do it,” you blurted out, mimicking his stupid smile and he nodded, satisfied. You got up to sit next to him on the couch before Joost gently brought you to his lap without warning, a sudden heat overtaking your body at the newfound proximity.

“Ready?” he asked with a smug expression.

“Shut up,” you whispered and leaned in to kiss him. Your mouths collided passionately, both of you soon getting carried away and forgetting about all your friends watching. You deepened the kiss, thinking of it as a way to let out all the pent up frustration for Joost. He tightened the grip on your waist and brought you closer as you wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers playing with his soft hair. You swore you could feel him growing harder under you, smiling proudly into the kiss.

Your kiss was quickly interrupted by Apson telling you to “get a room” followed by combined groans from your friends, before they continued on with the game. You pulled back, breathing heavily as Joost stared up at your flustered face. His eyes were needy, filled with lust contrasting with the sly smile on his lips. You tried to speak, say anything that would get on his nerves but you just couldn’t find the words in you. Instead, you got off his lap and hurried off to the kitchen to grab another drink.

-

You didn’t speak with Joost that night after what had happened. Or at all. The kiss had led to newfound feelings for him -or really, feelings that you refused to acknowledge all along- as you started longing for his touch, cherishing the little details about him that previously infuriated you. You went from arguing non-stop to barely making eye contact in hopes that Joost wouldn’t notice you get flustered, though you recognized that at some point you would have to confront him.

Not long after, you were sitting in your rooftop with a couple of your friends, Joost included, drinking and chatting. The sun was about to set, offering a beautiful view of Amsterdam in red and yellow hues. You kept on glancing at Joost a couple of times as the light breeze made his blonde messy hair even messier. You sucked in a breath, thinking about how his hair would look in the morning after waking up next to him, daydreaming about the warm sun rays caressing his face while he slept peacefully.

“I’m so bored,” Your friend, Alissa, speaking interrupted your thoughts, bringing you back to reality as you averted your gaze from Joost to face her.

“Is anyone up for clubbing tonight, pretty please?” she added, dragging the sound of the last word in a pleading voice. The rest agreed as expected, never turning down an opportunity to party and drink. Alissa looked at you, giving you doe eyes.

“I’m not in the mood,” you chuckled. She groaned and rolled her eyes, nagging you about coming along but you persisted as the last thing you needed right now was loud music banging in your ears and to be hangover the next day.

“Joost?” she asked as you awaited his answer, discreetly looking over at him.

“Nah, I don’t feel like going out either,” he said, looking at you as he pronounced the last word with a subtle smile, the nicest he’d ever given you.

Your friends slightly paused, staring at the pair of you as you awkwardly looked around, anywhere that you wouldn’t catch a glimpse of Joost. “Whatever,” Alissa then mumbled, urging everyone to leave with her so that they could get ready on time.

All that remained now was an uncomfortable silence which made you realize, you had never been left alone with Joost in the two years you had known him, at least not in such an intimate setting.

“Want a cigarette?” he asked, breaking the silence.

You finally looked at him again and nodded, watching as he inched closer to you. The sudden proximity caused your cheeks to burn, your arm slightly brushing against his. He passed you a cigarette, his fingers grazing yours as he did so, sending shivers down your spine. You heard him laugh to himself.

“What?” you smiled, he took a drag before turning to meet your gaze.

“Nothing, I just never thought that we would be smoking together on a rooftop after all of our friends ditched us,” he explained and you laughed at the irony.

“Neither did I,” you agreed, admiring what was left of the sunset in front of you as you exhaled a thick plum of smoke. The short moment of bonding between the two of you, gave you enough courage to speak again.

“Can I ask you something?” you said and he gave you a small nod.

“When we…” You trailed off, trying to think of a way to say what you wanted. “When we um- kissed,” you continued, noticing the slight smirk on his lips at the mention of you kissing, “Did you like it?”.

He stayed silent, taking another long drag of his cigarette. You stared at him intently, growing more embarrassed each second. Why did you ask him that?

“Ja,” he finally answered, confidently. You bit your lip, fighting back a smile, this wasn’t as one sided as you thought. Joost noticed you avoiding eye contact, your shyness earning a soft chuckle from him. He had never seen you like that before, so calm, so timid and it drove him crazy, this new side of you that he hadn’t yet seen.

“You’re really cute when you get shy, y’know?” Joost lightly brushed your hair out of the way as you turned to look at him, the pink blush on your cheeks definitely visible now. His eyes flickered back and forth between your eyes and lips while he caressed the warm skin of your face.

“Joost,” you muttered but he cut you off, crashing his lips with yours. This time, it was more gentle as he kissed you slowly with pure affection. He slowly lied down to the concrete floor, bringing you on top of him, your legs straddling him. You instinctively began grinding down on his thigh, the sensation of his rough jeans brushing against your heat, making you moan into the kiss.

He smiled, pulling away just to place small kisses on your neck, littering it with love bites. His hand that was previously on your hair moved closer to your inner thigh at an excruciatingly slow speed that made you whine.

“Please,” you mumbled, short breaths leaving your mouth and he laughed.

“Never thought you’d be begging me,” he whispered in your ear and continued sucking on your neck. You began unbuckling his belt but Joost quickly stopped you, placing his hand atop of yours to hold it in place.

“What?” you asked in a whiny tone.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, putting his hands on each sides of your waist. “I just don’t want to rush things,” He kissed your forehead and you smiled. You supposed he was right; having sex on the concrete floor wasn’t exactly the most romantic or comfortable thing.

“Is this you punishing me for being a bitch for two years straight?” you joked, causing him to grin as he pulled you into a sweet embrace.

The sky was dark by now with many stars shining above you as you cuddled. You drifted off to sleep, listening to the sound of Joost’s heartbeat and the distant music coming from the city’s night life. Joost placed a peck on your hair, his eyes also slowly closing.

“Goodnight mijn meisje”

[mylovejimimi]

When three is a party, and you're the piñata | TH&JK ONE SHOT

— PAIRING: boyfriend!taehyung x fem!reader x bf'sbestfriend!jungkook — GENRE: smut +18. minors dni — WARNINGS: teasing, dirty talk, a threesome (duh), vaginal sex, oral sex (f&m receiving/giving), mild ass play, pussy slapping (but like two or so), ass slapping (like three times), LOTS of fluids, LOTS of spit (not apologizing lmao), breast playing, kinda dom!tae and dom!kook, a tiny tiny twinge of mxm, a lil angsty at some point but fluffy at the end, reader is bamboozled lol — SUMMARY: Jungkook disliked you, that's for sure. Then, why is he insinuating he wants to fuck you? And why did your boyfriend simply invited him to your bed to do so (or, better said, do you)? — WORDS: 8k (oopsy) Maybe I went a little overboard with this one lol but i added some plot!!! It came out a lot tamer than I thought tho and I changed some bits but I hope you like it anon!! I enjoyed writing the wild smut lmao Anyways please remember you can send me a tip by buying me a ko-fi if you like my works, it will meant the world to me ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

Ever since you met the boys, their own friendship dynamics were as clear as the shots of vodka Jimin made you gulp down on weekends. Sometimes, Jin and Yoongi would go for a drink and complain about their ages and the youngest and things like that; in that same way, Jin would drag Jimin to a wine testing, or Yoongi would be cooped up with Namjoon in the studio, or Hoseok would help the two eldest with choreographies, or the maknaes would go shopping with Hoseok and so on. It was obvious to you that they had a very strong bond and had some kind of symbiotic relationship. But out of all of them, the two youngest seemed to be the more symbiotic of all.

When Hoseok introduced you to the group, you all clicked just as fast as you had clicked with Hoseok before (which was why he thought you should meet his friends). Soon enough, you were one of them, all eight of you inseparable – until Taehyung confessed his feelings for you, and you kind of been crushing hard on him the whole time. So, there began the first relationship in a big group of single men, and so, things had to shift a little to accommodate a couple. You were relieved, though, because the boys had taken it very well and were all happy and rooting for the both of you – well, almost all of them.

You never felt any animosity between you and Jungkook, though you always felt he didn’t like you as much as the rest. He was rather indifferent to you, in your humble opinion. Oh, but once you started dating Taehyung, his bestest friend in life? Just then you understood what real animosity was like: whenever you were around the boys, Jungkook would either talk to you curtly and unfriendly or not acknowledge your presence at all; other times he would just glare at you, making you feel self-conscious, even that one time in summer when you put on a new sundress and everybody complimented you and you felt pretty for once; and he even went as far as excusing himself to escape to the bathroom whenever you sat down next to him. Of course, you attributed this one-sided rivalry to that fantastic decision to fall in love with his best friend and taking him away from him, but you always made sure to never talk to Taehyung about the way Jungkook seemed to hate you, to avoid unnecessary conflicts.

But then one night...

“Y/N” Jimin sang, in his drunken state of being. “Can you be a dear and bring more beer?”

“Why me? You just told Jungkook to do it.” Just as tipsy, your reply sounded whiner than you wanted, but you met Jimin’s gaze with a frown. Then, you looked at Jungkook, completely inhibited when you said: “He told you to do it.”

“I don’t want to. Got a problem with it?” You gaped at the maknae’s answer, but you would not let yourself be ran over by this big brat of a boy.

“Yes, I have a problem with it. Move your fucking ass or I will move it.” The other boys shouted a collective ‘ohhhh’ at the exchange. Okay, maybe you were going a little bit too far with your attitude but you had lost count of how many drinks you downed and that was enough to excuse your attitude. “Get the fucking beers.”

“Come here and make me” he spitted, holding your stare from across the room. And just to provoke you further, he sat comfortably against the sofa, spreading his legs and tilting his chin to you. You felt some kind of way because in any other person, it would be a suggestive invitation. He even put his hand on his crotch! But it was Jungkook, so you didn’t think much of it.

“Oh, you better be sure I will.” However, before you could get up to do God knows what, Yoongi stepped in.

“I will go, you brats” he sighed, getting up from his seat. Your eyes didn’t left Jungkook’s though, and neither did his, even arching his brow to you. You scoffed and looked at your boyfriend beside you.

“Well, thank you Jungkook and Y/N for that interesting exchange. But I wanted to propose a little game to keep up the good spirits” Jimin smiled brightly and devilish directly at you. Your heart dropped a little. Park Jimin usually had the power of making you expose yourself, just because you were hot-headed and argumentative. “Do you all remember that game we played once, where we had to tease each other until one caved in? I mean, now we have a girl, it should be more entertaining.” Oh no. Your boyfriend squeezed your sides.

“I won’t play” you said, crossing your arms. “TaeTae?” But your lover ignored you in favor of smiling at Jimin.

“Why not? Are you afraid, Y/N? Afraid I might steal your man?” Jimin taunted you. He looked at Jungkook, before looking at you again. “Or are you afraid of being teased by Jungkookie?”

“What?!” You were genuinely startled at his insinuation. Another chorus of ‘ohhh’ filled the room. What was going on with these guys? “I’m not. I will play your stupid game.”

“Then, why don’t you sit beside our maknae and start the round?” And Jimin smiled like the Cheshire cat. Why was he so pressing about Jungkook? Was it because you snapped back at him earlier? Because of your general distance towards him? Jimin was sadist enough to laugh at his friends struggling; it could be anything.

You got up to sit near Jungkook, not close enough to be in his personal space, though you were expecting him to glare at you as always. But he didn’t. In fact, he looked at you briefly and gave you a small smile. Was he taunting you too?

“Y/N” Jungkook began, starry eyes shiny with drunken glow on yours, equally shiny and glowing. He moved one of your locks behind your shoulder. “Do you still enjoy getting it from behind like you said once?” The question came in a low, low tone, accompanied by a sleazy smile. He started strong but you didn’t budge.

“I do. Wanna try it? Want me to peg you?” You smiled, tilting your head sweetly. Once more, your public reacted in chorus.

“If I get to put something between those two, then yes.” And he ogled at your breast, causing your nipples to harden just a twinge.

“But could you? Won’t you wet your pants just by talking to a woman?” His eyes darkened and you felt the physical need to bit your lip.

“Leave it to me and the only wet things here would be my tongue and you.” A smirk and a wink but with a completely serious tone – like it was an invitation and a promise. The guys went crazy, laughing and shouting things you didn’t get. If you didn’t know better, your alcohol-induced reasoning would tell you that Jungkook was kinda flirting with you. Why was your boyfriend just laughing about it?

“You sure about that? You always look like you don’t know what is a pussy. Want me to show you one and give you a blowie out of pity?” He scoffed, now getting agitated. You tried to ignore how he flexed his muscles and when he tensed his jaw – but it was near impossible to ignore the way he rearranged his bulge mindlessly.

“I do know, baby.” In his growling voice, the pet name sounded almost menacing… and very exhilarating. Deep down you, you wanted to keep hearing him calling you all sorts of names. “And I’m not your boyfriend. A ‘blowie’ is not enough for what I have here.”

“Yah! Don’t bring me into your dumb beach off” your boyfriend complained with a pout. Running out of ideas, you drank the half glass of whiskey that Yoongi left on the coffee table, expecting to get creative once the alcohol got on your bloodstream. You saw Jungkook mirror you with his beer.

“Doesn’t seem like it,” you continued. “I’m actually looking at your boner right now and it is very underwhelming.” Jimin cackled at that, the rest of them giggled. Jungkook had the tip of his ears red.

“Let me shut your mouth with it and see if it is that underwhelming,” and he put his big hand on your knee, squeezing. “babygirl.”

You inhaled deeply, because his hand was not only on you. No no, Jungkook played dirty and started stroking your thigh up and down subtlety. Was it bad? Yes, absolutely, because you felt a tingling between your legs and a confusing desire to be touched. But bad enough to accept defeat? Absolutely no. Instead of caving in, you changed strategies: you smiled your seductive smile, and placed your hand softly on his biceps.

“Is it as big as your arms, Jungkookie? You promise to make me choke on it?” His hand on you faltered. Everybody was silent for some reason. “You promise to make me swallow my words while I swallow it?” Those even weren’t the biggest weapons in your arsenal, and yet it had the effect you wanted: Jungkook stood up and almost ran to the bathroom.

“You think he went to jack off?” Hoseok asked Jin, who nodded.

“Yah!” you yelled at them. “Jimin, your game is shit.” You were in serious need of a drink that wasn’t alcohol-based, so you stood up and went to the kitchen, catching a ‘but it was real fun to me’ from Jimin in your way out.

“Looks like you and Jungkookie are having fun together, uh?” your boyfriend said casually, coming behind you. You scoffed.

“If you can call that fun,” you grunted, taking a sip from a random water bottle you found on the counter. You needed anything that could calm you down. “Whatever, at least he seems to be loosing up. I don’t know, he’s a dumbass but I rather have him talking bullshit than to be shy and silent around me.” Taehyung smirked and looked at you intently, as if he was internally laughing at you because of something you don’t know. And you know your boyfriend. He was definitely laughing internally at you because of something you don’t know. You frowned. “What is it?”

“What is what?” Taehyung replied, smirk intact, while getting close enough to you to put every inch of his front against yours and his hands on your waist. Suddenly, the air shifted, and new tensions began arising between your two bodies. Despite being in someone else’s home, you would be lying if you denied how your boyfriend was turning you on.

“Why are you laughing at my expense?” He did laugh at that, eclipsing your clarity for a moment with that beautiful laughter that you adored since the first time.

“I just love your innocence.” His hands ascended under your shirt from their place on your waist to the underside of your boobs, nearly cupping them, making your breath hitch. You were way too conscious of being in Hoseok’s kitchen, looking at the door while Taehyung touched you almost indecently, but his eyes never strayed from your face. “Look what you did, baby: you made me hard at my friends’ gathering with that silly game and your silly, bratty mouth.” And he thrusted a little, so you would feel his fattened and restrained member on you.

As soon as you opened your mouth to cuss at him for his antics, your boyfriend wasted not even a second to put his mouth and yours, dizzying you with a kiss that you doubted was appropriate to experience in someone else’s kitchen. His mouth was way too enthusiastic, his touch all over your body, and you knew it was not leading to a normal quickie. No, he was properly devouring you whole; sucking at your lips, tongue trying to go deeper inside your cavity, hands moving all the way down to knead your ass. You tried wondering what had him so worked up but your mind couldn’t focus on nothing but his tongue in your mouth, deliciously licking everywhere inside – and you had no choice but to reciprocate with the same intensity. You couldn’t judge your boyfriend, because you were just as worked up yourself. Playing with Jungkook was fun at first but then it became serious. And so did the situation in your panties: the moment he put his strong hand on your knee? You felt yourself getting slightly wet, whole core warming… which you knew was completely fucked up. Shame woke you up when Tae’s fingertips went under your skirt and made contact with your inner thigh.

“Taehyung!” you whisper-shouted once you separated from his face, but his hands stayed firmly on your body. “It’s rude to be doing this here.”

“But, baby…” he whined and moved a calculated inch so you could feel his very rigid bulge on your upper thigh. No, as much as you wanted it, it was not right to do it at your friend’s place. You still had some dignity.

“No, seriously, what if someone walks in and sees us like this?” And of course, the universe wanted its turn to laugh at you, because in that exact moment your words were commands. Jungkook entered the kitchen looking at his phone, immediately lifting his head at your words, watching you in all your glorious just-made-out-hotly, lipstick-stained face, boyfriend’s hands under your clothes. He was paralyzed, you were paralyzed, and Taehyung snorted. Not knowing what to do, you just blurted an “I’ll go to the bathroom”, and flew the scene.

…

On the way back home, once the alcohol’s effects wore out, you couldn’t stop thinking about everything that transpired between you and Jungkook. It was mostly playful, none of it insinuating — not even the touch on your knee. And here you were, twisting it for some sort of unconscious reason. Did you like Jungkook? Did you not love Taehyung anymore? How could you be so disgusting? It was undeniable how your body reacted to the maknae, getting weak with nothing more than a simple touch. What kind of girlfriend that made you? The cheating, slutty one for sure. You felt like crying, guilt eating you up fast.

 “You had been very quiet since the thing in the kitchen, love.” Tae mentioned when you left your shoes at his apartment door. You turned around to look at him absently, and he smiled tenderly to you, caressing your face. “Everything alright? I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“It’s okay, baby, it was not that serious. I’m fine.” You lied. Unable to bear the loving look in your boyfriend’s eyes, you turned on your heels and headed towards his room, ready to hide underneath the covers forever. You were so bad at pretending.

The guilt and growing sadness were bad enough that you skipped your skincare, taking your make up off with a wet towel and going to bed on a shirt that was laying around and panties, instead of your precious silk pajama that matched Taehyung’s. By the time your lover got under the covers, you were on your side at the verge of crying, not wanting to see his face or else you would break down right there.

“My angel,” Tae started whispering on your ear. “I don’t know what’s wrong but just know that you can tell me whenever you’re ready.” You have to tell him, your conscience kept urging you. You had to tell him. It was so wrong and you knew it would break his heart, but all the love you had for him was enough motivation to tell the truth.

You shifted and faced him, your whole heart shrinking at the pure love that was on his face. All that love for you. And you ruined it.

As much as you wanted, no words left your mouth, but it was not needed because Taehyung kissed you, slowly, lovingly. It would be the last time, so you decided to enjoy it. You would miss the way he was nipping at your lower lip, probing it with the tip of his tongue for you to give him access. You would miss the way his hands always go directly to massage your breasts, his favorite habit since that one time you told him they were sensitive. You would miss the way he couldn’t resist you, hating to waste time with too much teasing, being the most efficient and desperate lover you had.

In no time, he threw the covers to the edge of the bed, caging you with his thighs between his warm body and the mattress. His mouth left yours to kiss a wet trail towards your neck, nipping and lapping from the spot under your ear to the point where your neck and shoulder met. You whined, because your neck was pretty sensitive too, and it only served to spur him on. He decided that near the base of your neck was a good place for hickies, so he sucked enthusiastically, kitten-licking the tender marks. While his mouth worked on your upper body, his always wandering hand caressed all its way to your panties, took them off in one movement and shamelessly pressed two fingers in your center. You hadn’t realized until that very moment that you were drenched.

“Shit, baby, what has you this wet already?” Taehyung exhaled in a deep, deep voice. Oh no. The spike in your hormones dropped suddenly and your whole body grew cold and rigid. You remembered and the emotions buried you like an avalanche. A sob escaped you, followed by tears and more sobs. “Love, love, wait, what’s wrong? Talk to me, please.”

“I- I can’t tell you. You will hate me…” you mumbled. Taehyung never stopped fondling your folds thru the panties.

“I could never hate you, baby. Not even if you leave me, not even if you fuck my best friend.” You looked at him like a deer in headlights, tensing from head to toe. He picked up the change in your energy and, honestly, deep down, he was enjoying the situation a little, tremendously excited for the surprise he had for you. Despite your reaction, he slowly stroked your folds, soaking his hold hand in your wetness. “Babe? Something to tell me? Maybe that Jungkookie made you wet tonight?” It was not possible to open more your eyes and yet, you did. Your heart was about to explode, scared shitless for being caught.

“N-no, no…” you mumbled, suddenly losing your capacity for communicating. So many things you wanted to say, apologies in every language, and the only thing you could do was to let out tiny tears at the corners of your eyes. To spice things up, Taehyung took the liberty of putting one finger on your clit, drawing circles. You inhaled sharply, electricity running thru every nerve in your body.

“Angel, don’t lie to me. I saw the whole thing. He was after you as he had always been, but our little Jungkookie can’t keep jerking off to the memory of you in a sundress forever, don’t you think?” You gaped at him, partially for his mastered skills on your pussy, partially for all the information he was dropping on you. After you? Always been? The sundress episode?! Your boyfriend gave you The Look: that look that promised to give you something so wicked but oh so fucking good, that you will be on the clouds for days.

He simply smiled at you, as sweet as ever. You sensed something big was about to happen.

“Babe, do you think you could handle both of us? Or is my baby too weak to take two cocks at the same time?” Blank. Nothing. Not even a fleeting, coherent thought crossed your mind. Of all things that could have come out of your boyfriend’s mouth, the most unexpected of them did. You had to ask to yourself in all seriousness if you weren’t hallucinating. Would your boyfriend Kim Taehyung really be up for a threesome? Yes, it was in character with him. With a friend of his? Well, he was a person that relied a lot on trust, so it would obviously be someone he trusted much like a friend. But with Jungkook? You never considered it.

You were too slow to reply to your boyfriend, it seemed, because he took his wet hand off your pussy and slapped you lightly on the thigh. It surprised you but sure took you out of all trance.

“I asked you something, doll. Are you too dumb to reply yes or no?” Oh. Oh. He was getting on that mood, one kink at the time. Generally, his domineering and demeaning attitude were enticing enough to get you going. That night was not exception. You gulped, your heart racing like never before. “Would you want Jungkook to join us or not?” His words were stern but he was the love of your life, you could read him better than anyone on earth, and in his eyes you saw the tenderness and love he always had for you. He wasn’t pressuring you, that was for sure. So, you found the confidence to confess your sins, and to agree to sin even more.

“Yes, Taehyung” you whispered because, how right was admitting out loud that you also wanted Jungkook? Though you couldn’t understand why he was looking for an answer so earnestly. His eyes darkened in no time; an enigmatic smile graced his beautiful face. Why did it feel like you just sold your soul to the devil?

He pressed a desperate kiss on your lips, condensing all the excitement and lust that involved the prospect of a threesome. Holy shit, you thought. He wanted a threesome this bad?

“Baby,” he said, kissing one last time “you just made two men happy, and am sure you are about to give us one hell of a night.” You smiled at him, happy that he was that overjoyed – until you let his words sink.

“About to…?” You frowned and, as always, he just smiled.

“Jungkookie!” your boyfriend yelled loudly; loud enough for someone outside the room to hear.

By instinct only, you looked at the door: lo and behold, the Jeon Jungkook opened it slowly, with his big Bambi eyes looking at the floor and his lower lip between his teeth. Your heart dropped to the first floor of the building. What was happening?

“Yah, Jungkook, did you come to fuck my floor or to fuck my girlfriend?” Your eyes were on your boyfriend on an instant, red all over your face. “Look how pretty she looks, all dumb and lost. And she is so wet already that both of us could slip in right now and she would just take it.” His words weren’t that dirty and yet, your body responded to his voice almost on command. Before Taehyung, you weren’t very fond of dirty talk, but the man made it his mission to find the right combination of words, the right timbre of his voice, that would work on you. And he was always successful on whatever he set his mind on.

You saw Jungkook taking a seat on the loveseat Taehyung kept on his room, diagonal to the bed to have the best view. His eyes were anywhere until they arrived on you, a fire burning on you as soon as you saw the arousal written on his face. Never in your life had you felt so much energy contained in a room, thick and suffocating: the heat of three young people that wanted nothing more than to jump at each other’s bones. You bite your lip, because desperation was overpowering your reason. You needed something, everything, whatever they could give you. You looked at your boyfriend, the only one that knew how to proceed, he looked back.

“Doll, I have to warn you. It’s been so long since Jungkookie wetted his dick that he probably will be like a dog in heat once he gets a taste of your pussy, so brace yourself and whenever you want to stop, we stop, all clear?” You nodded. “Good, all of us will use the color system so we’re all on the same page, do you understand me?” The question was directed at Jungkook, who nodded eagerly. Tae was silent for a moment, clearly thinking, and then he doubled the bet. “Jungkookie, get that seat closer to the bed. Closer. Yeah, right by our side.” And now you had your boyfriend’s best friend right by your side, as if he was about to examinate your body being fucked and needed to pay close attention to details. Well, yeah, that’s what was going to happen.

It was it. Everything was ready and set to start. For some reason, desperation evaporated instantly and nervousness took over your body, hands growing cold and heart jumping like crazy. You had never had someone watching you have sex, much less in a threesome. What if you did something awkward? What if you make him uncomfortable in some way? What if you can’t balance out right and end up giving more attention to Jungkook than your boyfriend? You would prefer to take your eyeballs out and eat them than to make your loverboy believe that you don’t want him. However, just as you read him expertly, so he does you, catching your worries as soon as they appear.

“Babe, you don’t need to worry about anything. This is for you more than for any of us. Just let yourself be, we will do the rest, okay?” You nodded, and the deal was sealed. Tae smiled once more before diving for a deep, wet kiss. It was so dizzyingly good, the expertise he had on kissing. His tongue entered your mouth again for a short time, before making the same path it did before, this time towards your breasts.

“Don’t- don’t take her shirt off” Jungkook stuttered gravelly, out of nowhere. Taehyung smirked at him. You frowned slightly.

“Why? Because you want to see me fuck my girlfriend while she’s wearing your shirt? You’re a pervert, man.” Your heart skipped a beat. Shirt? You went to sleep almost naked in Jungkook’s shirt? Your wide eyes questioned your boyfriend. “Baby, I had never worn that shirt in my life, Jungkookie left it here when he stayed over last week.” Stopping you from overthinking any more, he resumed where he left.

Taehyung had a specific routine for your boobs. Just like in that moment, he would suck lightly here and there, alternating between the two mounds. Then, he would lick one of them to the nipple, blowing air on it and giving you goosebumps, just to hear you whimpering. Finally, he would take the nipple inside his mouth for real; savoring it, licking it with his broad, hot tongue, moistening your chest with the saliva he let drip from time to time. And after he makes sure one of your breasts was as soaked as your panties, he goes for the other one and gives it the same treatment. It was messy and dirty and you both loved it.

This time, as your boyfriend finished one side and went to the other, you made the (lucky) mistake of looking at Jungkook. Damn, if he wasn’t a sight. Legs spread, hands on his inner thighs, and oh, his face. His face was enough to induce anybody into an early cum. He looked shaken already, with lips pink and parted enough to catch a glimpse of the saliva gathering there, clearly wanting to be in the place of your boyfriend; and his dark, lustful eyes were fixated solely on your chest, about to jump on you and feast on your body, nose exhaling shakily. It was the second man in your life that looked at you with such unbridled desire, the first one still entertained on your chest. The maknae must have felt you staring at him because his dark gaze shifted and now fixed on yours.

When did this man turned from the indifferent, jealous guy to this hot, hungry-for-you man? You didn’t know if it was your imagination but it was as if his eyes expressed every thing he wanted to do to you. I want to rip your clothes, you felt he thought, I wanna lick and suck and mark with my spit every inch of your body; I wanna open your legs and bury my head there, drink every drop of your sweet juices, make you come only with my tongue inside you, suck and lick your clit until you pass out but keep cumming; I wanna fuck all your holes, make you cry my name, choke you on my cock while I fuck your mouth so hard and my cum leaks from every hole in your body. Taehyung lifted his hear from your boob.

“Fuck dude, you been watching hentai again? That’s some hardcore shit and you recited it like a love poem. Even I got wet.” Oh, so you weren’t imagining it. Jungkook grew red like the ripest of tomatoes but his stare didn’t waver: his words were all for you to hear. You were… flattered, maybe? Definitely turned on, visualizing already all those things he mentioned. And Tae, the omnipresent-omnipotent boyfriend, noticed. “Babe, no. You won’t be an easy slut yet, not when the owner of this cunt is present.” And his mouth went down south, directly to latch on said pussy, slurping noisily at your drenched folds.

The moan you let out was loud and it didn’t stop, because your boyfriend suctioned just as loud, getting the tip of his tongue on your entrance to tease you. Your pussy tickled intensely, and you got a grip of Taehyung’s locks, pulling, which made him moan too. It was all too good. You could already taste the beginning of a climax…

And you don’t know when it happened but you suddenly felt something hot, fat, and hard on your unoccupied hand. You tensed and opened your eyes just to find Jungkook with his big, glorious cock out in the open, guiding your hand up and down on it. Your eyes connected again for a moment, before he licked his lower lip and threw his head back, moaning too. You could recognize when a guy put on a show for you, and it was exactly that what the man did, with his straining neck and tensed abs – that just now realized were visible, thanks to his open shirt. All this stimulation on you and yet it didn’t feel enough, so you couldn’t help but whine at the two men.

Both of them looked at you at the same time, Tae zeroing on your sloppy handjob with surprise. He now looked at his friend and adjusted his bulge in his pants while he said:

“So, the golden maknae wants to compete? With me? The unbeaten slayer of this pussy? Let’s fucking go.” Oh no, Taehyung was in a playful mood – That only could mean you were going to have a long, long night. Not a breath passed and your boyfriend had a finger up your entrance already and his thumb working on your clit. That angle always got him to that particular nerve on your clit that made you see stars, and what more advantage in their little competition that having you writhing and moaning non-stop. Your body was no longer yours. You accepted this fate happily.

Your eyes were closed when you felt a different shape on your left hand – the one that was on Jungkook. You looked at him just in time to see him take your wrist and pulling your hand away from his balls, getting your palm near his face so he could spit on it, and then taking it back to fondle his testicles. Your breath caught in your throat and warmth spread all over your chest. It was the new hottest thing you have seen in your life. Jungkook only smiled proudly at you.

Taehyung, who was also watching the spit show, scoffed and dived between your legs. His tongue accompanied his finger inside you, going out to lap at your clit here and there. One long finger became two, then three and all of them scissored, opening you up more and more until you could take those fingers and his thick tongue easily. One particular lick made you flex all your muscles, your left hand closing tight on Jungkook’s cock. You groaned, he sucked in a breath, your boyfriend slurped noisily again.

“Angel,” Taehyung began, sitting on his hunches. You felt more wetness dripping as you ogled at him in all his pussy-eating glory. Face soaked, hair disheveled, eyes in ectasis. He even licked his lips, collecting the juices you left on him. “do you think you could take more?” You nodded in a heartbeat. “Okay, so go suck Jungkookie’s cock while I get your pussy ready, alright?” This time, he didn’t spare you even one second to think before maneuvering you on your hands and knees, the maknae sitting on your bed and your head hanging over his red tip. Your boyfriend caressed your asscheeks from behind, getting a mewl from you and slapping you hard right away. “Get to work, slut.” Following his words, he licked a long strip from your clit to your wrinkled asshole.

But you still didn’t get to work on Jungkook, so your boyfriend gripped your hair from behind and pushed your head down, making you engulf the meaty length in front of you in one go. You choked, of course, gurgling and trying to swallow with a closed-up throat. The grip on his member made Jungkook moan and put his hand on your head, to keep you in place. You relaxed a little, allowing a smoother slide of him in your mouth, now taking control and hollowing your cheeks. Your tongue swirled around the whole diameter of his beefy cock, which was bigger and heavier than you initially thought, and then suctioned hard. The tip of your tongue teased his slit and the sides of his head, salivating more and more the longer you had him in your mouth. You guessed the maknae liked your blowjob technique because he seemed uncapable of stopping whining and writhing.

“Jungkookie” your boyfriend sing-sang suddenly. The maknae was barely able to maintain his eyes on him. “Tell me how is my baby doing. Do you like it? She sucks cocks like a champ.” It was difficult with his member buried to the hilt in your face but you still made an attempt to look up at the man. His eyes found yours and you felt more precum dribble inside your mouth. “But you seem too shy still. Why don’t you try living up your fantasies and fuck her mouth? I promise, she was born to take cocks.” You could feel Taehyung’s hands spreading open your buttcheeks, and then his tongue flitting over your puckered hole. Your breath caught in you and you had to let go of the dick to moan loud and long.

“You, uh – you focus on me, Y/N” Jungkook stumbled upon his own words, but didn’t waste time in taking your head with his two hands and pushing you down onto him again, which you gladly accepted. He tried snapping his hips up slightly, making you moan and send vibrations on his cock. That’s all he needed to fuck up into your mouth again, making you gag, eyes watering. “Yeah, fuck” he breathed out while speeding up his hips. Cock pushing your jaw wide open, you mewled as much as you could, enjoying the rough treatment and encouraging the man to give you more. “Shit, hyung, her mouth is amazing.”

“I told you, and wait until you taste her pussy” your boyfriend replied, voice low and raspy and touching your pussy in that same manner. With no warning, Taehyung’s cock prods a few times at your entrance before he thrusts in, pushing all air out of you. It was intense, your insides pulsing with the girth and length of your boyfriend’s member, and then the cock in your mouth throbbed too. “Talk to her, JK, she loves it.” He grabbed you by your hair again, yanking you up until you were face to face with his best friend. “Especially if you tell her what a filthy slut she is, and all the bad things you are going to do to her.”

“Y/N,” Jungkook started, looking directing into your soul. “I’m gonna cum in your mouth and you’re gonna drink it and say thank you, ok?” He sounded so serious that chills covered your whole body, and his command was so hot but he gave you no time to dwell on it because he shoved his cock in you.

“Bravo!” Taehyung celebrated with a rough snap of his hips into you. You gobbled the cock as much as he allowed you, which wasn’t much with the speed and harshness of his thrusts into your face. “Aww, doll, we found a good use for you as our cumdump, isn’t that lovely? Jk, make the honors of creampieing her mouth.” And he fucks up into you hard, making you move forward and choke on Jungkook. The stretch burns deliciously and you can’t help but moan, throat tight and vibrating on the cock you were sucking.

Jungkook cums at that, releasing ropes and ropes on your mouth while still fucking into it. The movements difficulted your swallowing, so most of it leaked from the corners of your lips. He whined at the sounds of you gargling. And in the heat of the moment, the maknae said:

“Yeah, fuck, slobber it all up, slut. You love being filled with cum until it spills, don’t you? That’s all what whores like you are for, anyways.” In an instant, your boyfriend, who kept fucking you frantically from behind, yanks you up with a hand around your neck until your back arched against his chest. From that angle, his cock reached new places inside you, making you scream and spill the remnants of Jungkook’s cum you didn’t get to swallow. Tae got close enough to your ear to suck at your lobe. It all was so overwhelming, you had to close your eyes.

“Come on, baby. Are you going to be an ungrateful bitch or are you going to thank JK for cleansing your disgusting mouth?” He took your jaw and moved it so you were facing down.

You opened your eyes to catch a glimpse of Jungkook moving towards you, but your brain couldn’t process anything until you felt his mouth on your clit. With every thrust, Taehyung grinded you over his best friend outstretched tongue, who moaned eagerly. Seeing you forgot what he just said, your boyfriend gave you a particularly harsh thrust, which made your whole pussy smash on the broad expanse of the tongue working on you. You screamed.

“Say thank you, you fucking whore. Are you that stupid that a little fuck breaks you?” You whimpered.

“Thank you, Jungkook” you said shakily, and that devil of a man smiled up devilish at you, before nibbling and sucking at your clit. And you came, squirting like a faucet right on the maknae’s face and neck.

“Holy fuck!” Jungkook exclaimed, lower part of his face drenched and dripping from the chin. His pupils were blown out, looking bigger and more menacing than ever before.

Your body lost all strength, becoming jelly in Taehyung’s arms, who didn’t stop assaulting your pussy. You tried squeezing your walls to bring him closer to climax, but the man had way too much endurance.

Instead of slowing down or getting sloppy, Tae descended on his ass, taking you with him to the bed head and accommodating you on his lap. While his cock was still into you, he moved you around like a rag doll so he could fold you in half, his hands coming under your thighs and lifting them, knees hooked on his forearms easily. He’s got you spread wide open, showing Jungkook how his cock went in and out of your dripping cunt. You wanted to whine and complain about overstimulation, but the reality was that the friction of Tae’s long and thick cock was so delectable that you felt a second release nearing already.

Jungkook’s eyes stared brazenly the place where you and Taehyung were connected, entranced by the easy slide in and out in your moistened pussy. Carefully, he put his hand on your used folds, stroking reverently the flesh all around where his best friend’s member was, and then his thumb went to your clit. You exhaled his name. He, in return, slapped your pussy.

“What a filthy bitch, moaning other man’s name while your boyfriend is fucking you” he reprimanded you, fingers still on your wetness. He shifted forward a little to be aligned with your pussy so he could spit on it, watching his saliva running down and disappearing between your folds and Tae’s cock. You moaned again. This time, it was Taehyung who reprimanded you with a harsh slap on your ass.

“Is playing with your pussy all it takes for you to let anybody use you? Stupid slut, offering your loose cunt to Jungkookie, dirtied and sloppy with your own juices. You’re too filthy, baby, we will have to cleanse you.” Then, your boyfriend unhooked your leg from his arm, and went to hold your jaw, turning you to face him, and dived in as if to kiss you – but before descending on you, he put pressure to make you open your mouth and just then let a dribble of saliva drop into your awaiting tongue. “Don’t swallow” he commanded, before offering your open cavity to Jungkook to do the same as him. The other man spitted with force, and got close enough to suck your lower lip into his mouth while Tae controlled you still. Your pussy throbbed and tightened on your boyfriend.

But they didn’t stop there. As your boyfriend went down on your neck and sucked and lapped sloppily, Jungkook went to your chest, dribbling more and more of his spit on your breasts, before capturing your nipples and nibbling them. You were so lost in the mess they were making of you that you almost miss the sensation of something tapping at the hole that was already filled.

You look down and can perfectly see the way Jungkook’s tip was pushing between your folds and Taehyung’s dick, like waiting for an invitation in. Even in the heat of the moment, you realized that maybe it was too much to fit the two of them inside you, looking at the girth of their cocks, and you panicked.

“It won’t be like that, don’t worry” your boyfriend, who sensed right away your worry, whispered in your ear. You relaxed, trusting him with your life.

Next thing you knew was that he lifted you from his cock, just to take your hand and make you guide Jungkook inside you. Your insides couldn’t stop throbbing; he was a little shorter than Tae but his girth, god damn, it barely could fit inside, even with your pussy as loose as your boyfriend’s own beefy cock made you. It took you a moment but as soon as he started thrusting, you moaned uncontrollably. Now you understood their plan: they took turns fucking into you, thrusting up a couple times before taking their cocks out and letting the other fuck your hole. You were really getting used by them as a mere hole to share, which was incredibly turning on.

All of you were reaching your peaks, movements growing erratic and wild. At some point, Jungkook took his cock out of you and started thrusting into his own hand, precum still falling over your mound. Taehyung was almost there, and so were you, both of you needing one last little thing to tip you over the edge.

“Jungkook.” The richness of your lover’s voice made you tremble. You didn’t realize you had your eyes close, but once you open them, you find Jungkook scooting over, his lips getting closer and closer to yours. Just when you thought he was about to kiss you, he goes past you, and you get to watch the single hottest image you had ever seen: Jungkook went in and kissed Taehyung. And at that same time, Jungkook’s tip nudged its way inside you, besides Tae’s cock.

You came like never before, so hard that all your lights went out.

…

You open your eyes once you hear whispering around you. First, you realize you’re on your bed, underneath the fluffy covers you love. Then, you realize you’re sandwiched between two strong, warm bodies (which makes you feel kinda giddy inside). You focus your gaze on the face in front of you. It’s your boyfriend, smiling as always.

“Hi, love” he says sweetly, leaving a kiss on your forehead. “How are you feeling?”

How were you feeling? Like you came back from heaven after being killer by a sixteen-wheeled truck running over you. Your body ached all over from exerting so much energy trying to keep up with your boyfriend, but it brought you so much pleasure that you still felt the vanishing ripples of your orgasm swirling in your insides.

“I’m okay” you simply responded. From behind you, you felt a warm body molding to yours, his arms hugging your hips lightly and his face nuzzling into your hair.

“Did you like it?” Jungkook sweetly asked in your ear. His voice sent goosebumps.

“It was all for you, love. Jungkookie sure put you in the spot at Hobi’s place, he had to make it better somehow.” You looked at your boyfriend and then at the other man over your shoulder. Before saying anything, you lay on your back, so you could watch and talk to both of them at the same time.

“I liked it, but I don’t know how to feel about it. What if I said no? Would you have just stood in front of our door, listening to us have sex?”

“No,” Jungkook answered instantly. “I was in the hallway; you can’t hear much from there. If Taehyung didn’t call for me after some time, I would just go home.”

“So you don’t hate me anymore?”

“Hate you?” both men exclaimed simultaneously. Was it that surprising? It’s all you felt from Jungkook since always. Taehyung laughed joyously.

“Baby, I think I never told you in what circumstances I started dating you.” You arched an eyebrow to your boyfriend. He smirked. “Jungkookie and I had to play rock, paper, scissors to decide who asked you out first.” They WHAT? “I won and Jungkookie had to eat my shit. But you’re too damn hot for your own good, dear, and I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist you – because I can’t neither.” The explanation should have cleared up any doubts you had but if anything, it birthed more questions. All these times you thought Jungkook hated you were just him concealing his desires poorly?

“I never wanted to make you uncomfortable, Y/N. I tried my best to be distant so you wouldn’t get mistaken and think I wanted to steal you from Tae. I like you but would never try to break you two apart.” You saw pure sincerity in his doe eyes. Though you were incredibly confused, you decided to believe his words, because you knew he was a good guy after all. And he loved his friends more than anything, that was for sure. Unexpectedly, his hand came up to caress the side of your face tenderly, looking deeply into your eyes. “Can I kiss you, Y/N?” You wanted to say no, for your boyfriend’s sake; but he was the one that took your hand in his and squeezed it supportively, murmuring a ‘do it’ under his breath.

You got close to Jungkook, who couldn’t waste even a second more and crashed his soft lips on yours. He kissed you urgently, like a man that had been thirsty for so long and just now had a drop of refreshing water. He savored your lips, your taste, and sucked your lip sensually. Soon enough, his tongue entered your mouth, and fire burned in your lower half. Your body still ached but the open-mouth kisses that your boyfriend left on your neck got you ready for more in no time.

“Now let us make love to you, dear” Taehyung exhaled against your skin, while Jungkook got his hand under your panties and his lips on your collarbone. “Let us show you how much we adore you.”

How could you say no to that?

[imrkos]

LOST IN THE FIRE (R.C)

synopsis after the infamous scandal involving Yn and her now ex-boyfriend goes viral, Yn is forced to leave the only world she's ever known and adjust to her new life in the Outer Banks. Sent to live with her aunt, uncle, and cousin Kiara, Yn finds herself hanging around the type of people she swore to never be seen with and quickly becomes entangled in the rivalries between the Kooks and Pogues. And one thing Yn doesn’t take is crap from others which only catches the attention of Rafe Cameron who seems to be seriously smitten about her despite her association with his sworn enemies. But to Rafe’s disinterest Ward seems to have a new idea involving Rafe having to make Yn head over heels about him and use her elite status to cover up what he’s been doing behind everyone's back.

( previous <- MASTERLIST -> chapter two )

CHAPTER ONE : smau + written

WORD COUNT: 3089

10:24 PM — ARRIVAL.

Your name, his name, your face, his face, all plastered across every headline, all on Instagram, Twitter, TikTok, and even made its way onto Facebook. The video of you slapping your ex and tossing your ring at your own best friend — the ring he gave you and supposedly designed himself — was now as viral as it was scandalous.

The paparazzi, the parties, your vacation to Dubai, and then Paris were all gone as soon as you answered your phone the next morning. “Pack your bags.” was all your mother had said, she didn't even sound angry, which was even scarier.

You knew you should've waited till the gala was over, but when Gossip Girl posted that picture of Caleb and Gigi, your presumed “ride or die” you couldn't help but mess with them.

You first texted Caleb that you were needy and waiting for him in a room upstairs — you didn't show up — then you texted Gigi, something about her ex waiting for her, and as you presumed she went in and it happened to be the same room Caleb was in, and then you entered.

Long story short, thanks to your new BFF and accomplice Gossip Girl, you found out they were expecting and lucky them they were having a girl! “What great parents you guys will be! Sad she’ll grow up with a skank of a mother and a coward of a father but I guess it works.” The next thing you know Gigi is aiming toward you and falls, Caleb then tries grabbing you and you slap him, toss your ring, say a few nasty words, and the end.

How you guys ended up on tape will forever be a mystery, even Gossip Girl couldn't figure it out. But Caleb assumed you had gotten one of your friends to record and threatened to sue. Pathetic but that was your mother's last straw and now you're here, on a train — which you weren't too happy about — going to see family you haven't seen since you were seven.

Last you heard, they were doing well with their restaurant, and your cousin, Kiara, often got into trouble with some kids that your aunt and uncle disapproved of.

From what you’ve searched up on your way there it seems like they live by the beach which you don’t mind but compared to your room back in the Upper East Side it wasn’t all that. You also noticed that she followed you about two hours ago, you requested to follow her and she almost immediately accepted.

Interesting, you thought, you quickly took notice of her friends, they were all over her feed — the same ones your aunt and uncle disliked you assume. Her life looked completely different from what you were used to, she had pictures of her by the beach with her friends, some of herself, and turtles..lots of them.

Would she be your first choice for a friend? No, but she was family after all and one thing you did prioritize was your family. Suddenly you hear the intercom and watch as people start getting off. Gosh, how you missed New York already.

“Y/n!” You hear as soon as you step out of the train, your aunt stands there with a warm smile plastered on her face — you can tell she was forcing it, she seemed happy to see you, yes but she looked too happy. Your uncle stands to her right as he waits his turn to greet you, he looks the same way he looked all those years ago.

“Hey,” you greeted, “It's been so long!! When your mom was on the phone with me and suggested you come here I was so excited! Maybe you can help Kiara stay out of trouble.” Kiara, you noticed she wasn't there “Kiara, she's at home. Hurricane passed the day before so she decided to stay.,” your uncle Mike says, That answers your question.

10:38 PM.

“So how was the ride?” Terrible “It was alright.” You’ve been answering questions non-stop for the past 20 minutes, the car ride only seeming longer the more she kept asking questions. How’s New York? I heard you want to go to Princeton, your brother, how is he?

The endless questions would replay in your mind as you sat in the backseat of their car. New York's perfect, I actually want to go to Harvard, Princeton is my mom's dream, My brother? He stopped responding to our messages a few months ago.

You sighed looking out the window and watching the world go by. Every now and then you’d catch a glimpse of something that reminded you of home, yet none of it felt like home. You could feel your uncle's eyes on you from the mirror “You’ll get used to this.” you stay silent only looking at him for a second before looking back out “No paparazzi bothering you here, beach days 24/7, I guarantee you’ll make friends fast.” he continued, you only gave him a slight smile.

As you turned onto a narrow street flanked by rows of beach cottages, your phone buzzed. Mom displayed across your screen “I sent you there for a reason, don't make me and your father look even worse.” She was replying to your previous message, four hours later.

Once in a while, you'd wonder how your dad ended up with someone like your mom. They were total opposites. Your mom grew up with wealth and influence, and that's how she landed her roles. Your dad on the other hand came from a humble upbringing, he went to school for music despite your grandparent's disappointment, failed, got back up, and ended up with multiple hits.

They were yin and yang, so different yet they worked.

You always imagined your life with Caleb, would it end up like your parent's relationship? Disagreements here and there but always finding yourselves back to one another, or like his parents? Perfect on the outside but broke from the inside.

Love scared you, yet you seemed to yearn for it.

As you got out of the car, the salt air hit you immediately, and for a second, you almost forgot about the mess your life had become. The waves crashing in the distance gave off an oddly calming effect, but you knew that wouldn't last long.

“Here’s home,” your uncle Mike said, A modest beach house, white with baby blue exterior shutters. It definitely wasn't what you were used to but it was pretty.

“Let's get inside sweetheart, let's hope the wifi’s back up!” you nod and earn a reassuring smile from your uncle as he grabs your bags from the trunk. You quickly take notice of the difference between their house and yours, pictures of all three of them smiling, baby pictures, of course, the half-burned candles, the atmosphere feels warm and peaceful compared to the lonesome one you're used to.

You could hear your aunt snickering with someone on the phone but you paid no mind to it, “Your room is upstairs, three doors down to the left, make yourself at home” Mike said coming down the stairs “Thank you” you reacted making your way upstairs.

The room was cozy and you had a great view of the sea, you couldn't complain. 10:47 Your phone lit up, a message from Instagram,

Kiara 🌺: Hey, wanna go to a Boneyard? I'll be there in about 10 minutes. Get ready.

You stare at the message for a while…Boneyard? You hadn't even met the girl in person and she was already asking to hang out.

You: Your parents fine with it? lol

Kiara 🌺: Fine with me showing my cousin around late at night? Yes of course :)

You chuckle and send a simple “right” text before turning your phone off, So much for staying out of trouble.

You decide on a simple tube top and ruffled skirt you had bought before leaving, your mom had picked out most things in your luggage, you could say many things about her but you couldn't say she didn't have taste.

You hear three quiet knocks before turning around and being met by an awkward-looking Kiara “I was at the Boneyard and remembered you were coming today,” she rambled before sitting down next to you

“It looks cute, your outfit.” she compliments “Thanks. Thought I underdressed but, I'm assuming this Boneyard thing isn't very glitz and glamour.” she snorts “Yeah no,” she gets up before talking again “Can I use it?” she asks pointing at the bathroom, you nod frantically and she smiles closing the door behind her.

You didn't know what to feel about her. She's out there. You're also out there. Maybe you guys will get along after all? But Gigi was out there as well and look at how that ended up.

Your head turns once you hear the door open “Alright so my friends are waiting for us there so we should get going” she says, you quickly stand up straightening your skirt, “You walked?” she turns her head towards you motioning for you to lower your voice, right, her parents.

You guys quietly make your way downstairs and out the door making sure you don't make a sound, “No, I didn't walk, JJ, my friend offered to drive me and I said yes but I kinda thought we could drive there together so he went back.” she answered as soon as you guys made it outside, “Oh” you reply following Kiara to the car you were just in “My dad is gonna kill me, get in” she says opening the passenger door for you.

As you guys make your way to the Boneyard, Kiara breaks the silence and starts asking questions. — like mother like daughter. “Gossip Girl who is it?” “I'm not too sure myself” “How come you've not gotten into acting or singing?” “My mother” “Princeton? So you're really smart” “More like my mom bribed a few people there but I guess”

The rest of the car ride consisted of pure silence beside the hum of the car engine and Kiara’s occasional humming along to the radio. You on the other hand stared out the window drifting back to your thoughts from earlier.

What are my parents up to right now? Is your brother wondering what you're doing right now? Has he seen the many articles with your name plastered on them? Has Kiara?

When the car finally pulled into a gravel lot near the beach, the first thing that hit you was the cool breeze followed by the smell of wood burning. You weren't sure what you were expecting when you heard Boneyard but this wasn't it.

A crowd of teenagers gathered together, sitting on the hoods of cars, some in small clusters, others laughing, dancing, watching a group of guys throwing a football around. It was everything your mother kept you from. Kiara immediately headed toward a circle of people, and you followed, trying your hardest not to stand out too much. But soon enough there were eyes on you — curiosity and intrigue written across their faces. You could hear the snippets of whispered comments and almost hidden glances. You could tell they all recognized you, but you couldn't tell if you were welcomed here or if they wanted you out.

“Yo, Kie, who's this?” a voice suddenly called out, sharp and demanding, cutting through the noise of people around you guys.

You turned to see a guy walking towards you, he was tall and lean, with messy blonde hair that fell just above his eyes. His demeanor was confident like he was used to the attention, having people notice him. When he locked eyes with you his gaze flickered — he looked like he was trying to figure you out. He slightly squinted his eyes, it was hard to tell what he was thinking at that moment but you felt a slight change in the air.

Kiara rolled her eyes but replied “My cousin, Y/n.” she seemed unfazed by his intense stare. “Y/n, this is Rafe-” she continued before suddenly getting cut off “Rafe Cameron.” he extends a hand out but you don't take it, leaving him puzzled but soon his puzzled expression turns into a smug one.

“Alright,” he says leaning in just a little too close, his eyes still fixated on yours “Ms.L/n would you care for a drink?” you shake your head no, keeping your mouth shut, slightly amused at his offer. Rafe takes a step back, his eyes now wandering on your body, he takes notice of your outfit. “Well, I'll make sure to keep an eye out for you Ms.L/n,” he turns to Kiara and back to you “Just be careful, you don't want to get lost with the wrong crowd” he winks.

Before you could respond, Kiara was already pulling you away, leading you to a firepit, you noticed it was surrounded by her friends you recognized from her Instagram. “Gosh, he's so annoying” Kiara complains, you nod, still feeling Rafe’s eyes on you as you sit down next to her.

“I kinda guessed he'd walk up to you guys, I mean hey look who it is!” the blonde-haired guy says, earning himself a slight nudge from the guy beside him “Ignore him, I’m Pope, it's nice to meet you! This idiot is JJ and this one over here,” he says pointing to the guy next to Kiara “Is John B.” You notice them all staring at you waiting for you to say something “Y/n, Y/n L/n, nice to meet you guys.”

“So, Rafe Cameron?” Jj asks, “I think I know better than to associate myself with somebody like him.” They all laugh in unison, “Yeah, he's a bit crazy” John B says “A bit? He’s like a total lunatic.” Kiara adds — Crazy lunatic huh?

11:58 PM.

You had been keeping yourself busy talking with some guy you met a couple of minutes back. His eyes often drifted toward a girl a few feet away from you guys and you quickly understood y'all were in the same boat “Trying to get over her?” you asked “Hmm?” he mumbled turning back to you “Oh- She’s y’know- it's complicated.” You nod, and he gives you a sheepish smile taking a sip from the drink Kiara offered you guys — some cheap-smelling liquor with orange juice.

You were pulled away from your conversation when you heard commotion starting on the other side of the beach. Kiara and Pope looking helpless next to JJ and John B arguing with some guy, you quickly make your way to Kiara’s side listening to the argument unfolding,

“She doesn't want it, asshole!” the guy spits back, slapping JJ’s cup away causing it to spill onto John B. “Topper please.” you hear the girl next to the guy plead “We’re laying low. Being normal.” Pope chimes in trying to calm the situation down but to no avail “Oh my god” Pope lets out as soon as John B pushes Topper

“Don't make me drown you like your old man,” Topper said, causing John B to lunge at him but misses before being punched by Topper, falling to the sand.

“Holy shit!” You yell out, “Stop him!” You say, Pope only shaking his head clearly shaken up, you scoff looking around, your eyes locked with Rafes, he was standing, his arms crossed, clearly unimpressed by what was happening. “Hey” he mouths at you, you roll your eyes turning back to see John B fighting for his life “Fuck” you mumbled.

“Stop!” Kiara yells out getting closer to the two guys fighting “Topper!” the girl — his girlfriend you assumed — yelled out. Suddenly you see JJ, gun in hand, pointing it at Topper's head “Your move, broski.” Your eyes widen at the sight of the gun “Put the gun down, JJ!” the girlfriend yells out, JJ laughs “Did you say something, princess?” John B looks at JJ, shaking his head “Cool out, JJ.” he says trying to regain his breath “I was saving you, bro.” he replies,

Kiara looks over at you, she looks distressed, her hair blowing onto her face, and she has a firm grip on your arm. JJ raises the gun to the sky “Get the fuck off our side of the island!” he yells out firing a few shots into the sky, the people around you panicking — you were too but stay by Kiara’s side.

JJ comes closer to you guys “What the fuck!” you say shoving him slightly “What? I just saved his fucking life!” he cursed, you only looking at him in disbelief “Oh yeah? By pulling a gun out at someone? You're a real fucking genius!” You yell “Listen here, Angel this is how it works out here! Pogues versus Kooks. It's been this way forever, and you can't come here suddenly and tell us what’s right and wrong! Y’know, you seem to really fit in with those Kooks! We’ve all seen those headlines, you aren't a saint.”

“JJ!” you hear Kiara yell, you only look at him and smile “I don't know who you think you're talking to but just know I have eyes and ears everywhere, call me all you want, and don't be surprised when something of yours is leaked to the public. It's a small island, right? I'm guessing things spread around fast here. Watch your tone.” You warn before walking off “Yn!” you hear Kiara yell out as you make your way to the car

“Told you.” you hear, “Told me what?” you ask already expecting to see his face, probably leaning up against something, his signature smug face. “I don't think mommy and daddy would want to see their perfect Angel hanging around people like those Pogues.” you lift your head now leaning against Kiara’s car — you were right, he was leaning against what you assumed was his car, looking down at you. “What's up with this Pogue, Kook thing?” He shrugs “It's been this way for as long as I can remember. You're too pretty to be hanging out with them.” he says leaning in close, just like earlier.

“How about I drive you home?” he suggests “As if.” he chuckles, bringing a hand to his face, and fixing his hair “I like you,” he says “I’ll see you around, doll.”

“Oh no, you're not.” you laugh

“Oh trust me. We’ll be spending a lot of quality time together. Sweet dreams, pretty girl.”

NOTE: Hello!! hope you enjoyed this lol, was gonna upload it thursday but oopsie and then yesterday it snowed so yeah I went out :> but anyways thank you for reading!

TAGLIST: @vwosnz // @high-functioning-cosplayer // @bettys-redwinesupernova // @bambiangels // @grapejuice32 // @amterasuu // @starkeyszn

[ahqkas]

Gryffindor! Reader who always try to avoid mattheo because of the beef between houses. But mostly because of the rumors of the riddle brother. Mattheo knows this, it’s like a game of cat and mouse as it only ends up with mattheo teasing her until she’s flustered.

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

THE ANCIENT RIVALRY BETWEEN GRYFFINDOR AND SLYTHERIN WAS A WELL-KNOWN FACT AT HOGWARTS. it was a feud written in tradition and mutual dislike, carried on through generations of students. for you, a proud gryffindor, the tradition was not just a historical detail but a daily reality. especially when it came to avoiding mattheo riddle, the short tempered slytherin whose reputation preceded him.

it wasn’t just the typical house rivalry that made you steer clear of mattheo; it was the swirling rumors about him and his name. the whispers in the corridors, the hushed conversations in the common room – all painted him as someone to be wary of. despite this, there was an undeniable allure to him, a magnetism that made it increasingly difficult to ignore his presence.

mattheo seemed to take great delight in your attempts to avoid him. it was like a game of cat and mouse, one he played with a mischievous glint in his eyes. he had an uncanny ability to appear wherever you least expected him, always ready with a teasing remark or a sly smile that made your heart race.

one afternoon, you were hurrying through the courtyard, hoping to reach the library before dinner. the winter sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows over the cobblestones. you quickened your pace, hoping to evade any slytherins who might be lingering nearby.

"running from something, gryffindor?"

the familiar drawl stopped you in your tracks. you turned to see mattheo leaning against a stone pillar, his arms crossed over his chest and a smirk playing on his lips. his dark curls fell into his eyes, which sparkled with amusement. he enjoyed this game between the two of you too much.

"no, just trying to get to the library," you replied, trying to sound indifferent. "some of us actually have work to do."

"ah, always the responsible student," he teased, pushing off from the pillar and sauntering over to you. "but you know, all work and no play makes for a very dull lion."

you rolled your eyes, but your heart was pounding against your rib cage. "i have enough excitement without adding you to the mix, riddle."

he stepped closer, his gaze intense. "oh i doubt that." he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. the casual touch sent a shiver down your spine. "why do you avoid me, really?"

you looked away, unable to meet his eyes. "you know why," you muttered.

"because of the rumors?" he asked and his voice visibly softened now. "you shouldn't believe everything you hear."

"it’s not just the rumors," you admitted. "it’s . . . well, you're you. and i am me. gryffindor and slytherin don't exactly mix well."

"who says we have to follow the rules?" he said, his tone challenging. "maybe we can make our own."

you couldn't help but glance up at him, caught by the sincerity in his voice. "why do you care so much, mattheo?"

"because i like you," he said simply. "and i think you like me too, even if you won't admit it."

your cheeks flushed, and you looked away again. "you’re impossible," you muttered, but there was no heat in your words this time.

"and you're adorable when you're flustered," he teased, his smirk returning.

before you could respond, the bell rang, signaling the end of the break. you took a step back, needing to put some distance between you and the overwhelming presence of mattheo riddle.

"i have to go.”

"i’ll see you around, princess," he called after you, his voice filled with a promise.

as you walked away, you couldn't help but smile. despite your best efforts, mattheo riddle was getting under your skin. and maybe, just maybe, that wasn't such a bad thing after all.