All you really knew about Gansey Richard III was that he was… a lot. Too polished, too sure of himself, too full of encyclopedic trivia that spilled from his mouth like a lecture you hadn’t signed up for. The boy in the pressed polo shirts and boat shoes who carried himself like he owned the ley lines.

Arrogant. Cocky. Infuriatingly untouchable.

That was Gansey.

So when you agreed — reluctantly — to tag along with him, Blue, Ronan, and Adam on one of their “expeditions,” you had braced yourself for more of the usual: Gansey waxing poetic about kings and curses, brushing past warnings like he was immune to danger, leading with that maddening confidence.

But the forest had other plans.

The ground gave way faster than expected. One step, then another, and suddenly your foot slipped on the loose earth near the ridge, your stomach dropping as the rest of your body pitched forward. Panic flooded in, sharp and suffocating.

Before fear could settle, a hand shot out, firm and unyielding, fingers curling around your arm with absolute certainty. Gansey’s voice cut through the chaos — low, steady, commanding in a way that left no room for doubt.

– “I’ve got you.”

And he did.

He hauled you back against his chest, muscles tense, breath warm against yourr temple. The scent of mint and motor oil clung to him, grounding in its strange familiarity. His grip was strong — too strong — and his heartbeat thudded fast against your back.

When he finally eased you upright, keeping one hand braced at your elbow, your thoughts should’ve been coherent enough to curse him out for dragging you on this cursed trek. But all you could think — wildly, irrationally — was when the hell did Gansey get so hot?

Maybe it was the flush high on his cheekbones, the loose strands of hair sticking to his forehead, or the way his usually pristine voice cracked just slightly when he asked if they were okay. Maybe it was the fact that, for once, Gansey wasn’t untouchable — he was real, grounding, protective.

Your heart stuttered traitorously as his hand lingered a moment too long on yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles like reassurance.

Gansey, arrogant and unbearable, had just saved you.

And suddenly, every carefully curated opinion you had about him felt dangerously unstable.