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Update

Hello all! I hope you're having a wonderful day/night and I hope you're feeling better than I am right now. Yup. I got sick with the cold. I have very little energy right now, so it might be a little bit before I get this stories, ‘Girl with the Crescent Mark’ and ‘One Piece Preferences’ updated. I hope you can forgive me.

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File It Under N For No One Gives A Fuck: H.JS Han Jisung x fem!wife!reader (Police AU)

WC: 8.1K

CW: mentions of drugs, mentions of anthrax, threats of divorce, talks of sex and inappropriate use of department handcuffs, Chan being a stressed out Captain

General Masterlist SKZ Masterlist

You step into the bustling precinct, your senses immediately absorbing the energy around you. Phones ring, radios squawk, officers shout to each other across the room, and every so often, there’s a burst of laughter from one of the clusters of desks. It’s your day off from the ER, a break from the endless flow of patients, the constant blare of monitors, and the adrenaline-fueled rush that never seems to end. You still want a taste of that energy, though, so here you are, coffee in hand for your husband Jisung and a few of his colleagues.

You navigate your way through the bullpen, a light blue summer dress brushing against your knees, and your white wedges clicking softly against the tile. Your white sunglasses sit perched on your head, holding back your hair, and the scent of freshly brewed coffee follows you as you carry a tray with four cups, each labelled with a different name: yours, Jisung’s, Felix’s, and Minho’s.

As your eyes sweep the room, they land on Felix, slumped back in his chair with a familiar air of exhaustion, his head tipped back, and his arms dangling off the sides as if the world’s weight has finally crushed him. You grin, making a beeline for him. Dropping into the chair opposite his desk, you slide his coffee across to him with a smirk.

“Look what the coffee fairy brought,” you announce, leaning back with an amused glint in your eye.

Felix blinks down at the cup before his face lights up with pure, unfiltered joy. “You absolute angel! I swear, I love you right now. Like, I’m dangerously close to kissing you.”

You laugh, the sound bubbling up before you can stop it. “Jisung would shoot you. No warning, just bang. Right between the eyes.”

Felix chuckles, shaking his head as he picks up his coffee, inhaling the aroma before taking a grateful sip. “Fucking worth it. Honestly, I’d risk it.”

As he drinks, his eyes drift over you, assessing your outfit with a dramatic once-over. He tilts his head, lips curling into a mischievous grin. “Okay, but why do you look like you’re about to star in some cheesy rom-com? Seriously, who are you trying to impress here, and why isn’t it me?”

You roll your eyes, glancing down at yourself as if seeing your outfit for the first time. “Can’t a woman look nice on her day off? I’m visiting my husband, Felix. I get to look like something other than a sleep-deprived ER nurse covered in mystery fluids. Plus, it’s hot outside.”

He smirks, the glint in his eyes growing sharper. “Suspiciously nice, if you ask me.”

Before you can fire back, Minho appears at Felix’s side, his eyes zeroing in on the cup with his name scrawled across it. With a smirk, he grabs it, taking a slow, satisfied sip. “Hmm, just the way I like it. Thanks. You know, you really should leave Jisung and marry me instead. Think about it: we’d be a power couple.”

You deadpan, barely blinking as you retort, “Absolutely not. I’d have to explain your ‘disappearance’ to a jury, and I’m not confident I could sell a self-defence story.” You pause, then add, “Also, your actual wife might take issue with you running off with your buddy’s wife.”

Felix bursts out laughing, nearly choking on his coffee. “Oh my god, I’d pay good money to see her kick your ass, Minho.”

Minho raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “I’m just saying, you talk a big game. But between you and me, I’m pretty sure I could handle you.”

You lean forward, a challenging grin playing on your lips. “Jisung handles me just fine, he doesn't need your help.”

Just as Minho opens his mouth to respond, Jisung walks up, and you see the flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Excuse me, what did I just walk into?”

“Nothing. Just Minho being his usual self,” you reply sweetly, holding out his coffee. “I brought you this.”

Jisung’s face softens, his eyes warming as he takes the cup from you and leans down to press a kiss against your cheek. “What would I do without you?”

“Crash and burn, probably,” you say, grinning up at him.

“Can confirm,” Felix chimes in, lazily leaning back in his chair and clearly enjoying the banter. “You’d be fucked without her, man.”

Jisung rolls his eyes, looking between you and his friends. “Glad to know my friends have so much faith in me.”

He glances back at you, taking in the dress, and a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “You do look amazing, by the way. Makes me want to ditch the precinct and-”

“Absolutely not. None of that in here,” Minho interrupts, raising a hand as if to physically block whatever Jisung was about to suggest. “I get enough of your lovey-dovey nonsense on a regular basis. This is a professional environment, thank you very much.”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “Right, because you’re the embodiment of professionalism, Minho. Never crossed a line in your life, right?”

“I am a paragon of professionalism,” he says, deadpan, puffing up like a proud peacock.

Felix snickers, shaking his head as he takes another sip. “Oh yeah? ‘Paragon of professionalism’? If that’s what we’re calling it now, sure. But remember that time your wife came to visit and Chan caught the two of you going at it in the men’s locker room?”

Minho’s face flushes slightly, but he tries to play it off, lifting his coffee and taking a long sip, refusing to break his stoic facade. “It was a passionate reunion.”

“Oh, we all know,” Felix says, grinning. “We all heard her moaning. Pretty sure they heard it over in the evidence room too.”

You snicker, raising an eyebrow at Minho. “Paragon of professionalism, huh?”

Minho’s face turns even redder, and he mutters into his coffee, “One incident. Just one.”

Jisung chuckles, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “See, that’s why I stick to public displays of affection in small doses. Less memorable.”

“Yeah, like that time you two were making out in the break room,” Felix says, smirking.

You feign innocence, looking up at Jisung. “I have no idea what he’s talking about. Clearly, he’s delusional.”

Jisung nods, playing along. “Absolutely. Must be all those late shifts, messing with his mind.”

Felix rolls his eyes, leaning forward with a mischievous grin. “Alright, alright. But just remember: if there’s any scandal around here, it’s usually because of you married lot. Meanwhile, I’m the model of restraint.”

Minho opens his mouth, likely to lob a sarcastic comment Felix's way, but the door to Captain Bang Chan’s office swings open with a sharp, foreboding creak. Chan strides out with a look of grim determination on his face that instantly makes your stomach drop. You know that look. Everyone does. It’s the kind of look that’s never followed by good news.

“All right, listen up!” Chan’s voice cuts through the chaotic murmur of the bullpen, slicing the noise in half as everyone freezes and turns toward him. “We’ve just received a credible threat of an anthrax attack on the station. Until further notice, we’re in lockdown. No one gets in or out.”

A stunned silence follows his words, the gravity of it crashing over the room like a wave. Anthrax. Of all things. It feels like the air itself thickens, every eye in the room locked on Chan, processing the information. You’re the first to break the silence.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you groan, throwing your hands up with dramatic exasperation. “I swear, I am never doing anything nice for any of you ever again. Here I am, on my day off, bringing real Italian coffee straight from my hometown, like the good wife and friend that I am, and now I’m fucking trapped here because some maniac decides today’s a great day to mess with a biochemistry set?!”

Felix snorts into his coffee, trying to hide his laughter, while Minho’s mouth twitches in barely contained amusement. Jisung’s shoulders shake as he attempts to keep a straight face. He reaches out, taking your hand gently and rubbing calming circles over your knuckles. “Jagiya-”

“No! Don’t ‘jagiya’ me right now,” you huff, narrowing your eyes at him. “This is exactly what I get for trying to do something nice.”

Jisung, his lips still curved in a soft smile, gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “Come on, let’s go sit at my desk. You can yell at me there, and maybe the world will make sense again.”

With a dramatic sigh, you allow him to lead you across the bullpen. You drag your feet with exaggerated reluctance, muttering a steady stream of colourful Italian curses under your breath. Jisung, still holding back laughter, takes the two remaining coffees from you as you settle yourself in his chair, folding your arms and glaring at the room like an affronted cat.

“That’s my seat, you know,” Jisung says, raising an eyebrow at you, clearly amused.

You fix him with a glare, your voice dripping with mock indignation. “It was your seat until your wife, out of the kindness of her heart, decided to do something nice for you and wound up smack in the middle of an anthrax threat. So, I think I deserve the chair, don’t you?”

Jisung chuckles, sitting down in the spare chair beside you and sliding your coffee over. “Fair enough,” he concedes, grinning. “And, for the record, thank you for the coffee. Even if we’re potentially in a biohazard zone.”

Your annoyance softens, just a bit, as you take a sip. “You’re welcome. I should start charging extra for hazard pay, though.”

You reach over to one of Jisung’s desk drawers, half-listening to the murmurs around you as people process the lockdown news. Your fingers brush a small packet at the edge of the drawer, and suddenly—

PFFFFT!

A white cloud bursts from the drawer, coating you and Jisung in a fine layer of white powder. You freeze, eyes wide, and for a second, the bullpen goes completely silent. The two of you stare at each other in shock, blinking through the powder.

Jisung sputters, wiping at his eyes with a grimace, before deadpanning, “I’ve never hoped something was cocaine more in my life.”

“Oh, my god,” Minho groans from across the room, his hand rubbing over his face in disbelief. “During an anthrax lockdown, you open a drawer, and a packet of white powder explodes. Seriously?”

You sit there, a mix of horror and resignation, before letting out a long, exasperated sigh. “Well, if it’s anthrax,” you mutter, throwing your hands up, “at least we’ll die together. So fucking romantic, right?”

Jisung lets out a resigned sigh, rolling up his sleeves. He gives you a sly smile. “You considering divorce yet?”

You snort, still trying to dust the powder off yourself. “Not a chance. I need that sweet, sweet overtime money.”

He laughs, his warm, familiar laugh that lightens the absurdity just a bit. As he leans back, wiping powder off his arms, you both notice Felix leaning, wide-eyed, clearly in awe of the sheer absurdity.

“Y/N,” he says, barely holding back laughter, “please, for the love of all things caffeinated, do not stop bringing us coffee. Even if you’re dead. Like, send it from the afterlife or something.”

You roll your eyes, a grin tugging at your lips. “Trust me, if this is anthrax, we’re all toast anyway, so get praying, Lix.”

Felix gives a melodramatic sigh, glancing at the powder-dusted desk with exaggerated despair. “Well, if you die, and I survive, I’ll make the most epic playlist for your funeral. It’ll be a symphony of tragic bangers.”

You chuckle, brushing some powder off your hand. “Appreciate the thought. I’ll haunt you if it isn’t perfect.”

Jisung leans back, watching you spin slowly in his desk chair, one hand still gripping your coffee. He raises an eyebrow, eyes twinkling with barely contained laughter. “You know,” you say. “I always thought a brush with death would be a little more dramatic.”

Jisung chuckles, sipping his coffee. “If it is anthrax, we’re in for a hell of a time, though, right?”

“Oh, for sure,” you nod, launching into a cheerful explanation. “It’ll be nausea, chest pain, coughing up blood, then more pain, and then bam! Dead. Pretty straightforward.”

Minho, still dusting powder off himself, makes a face. “Jesus, Y/N, couldn’t you sugarcoat it?”

You lean forward with a wicked grin. “No, but I could anthrax-coat it.”

Jisung laughs so hard he nearly spills his coffee, shaking his head. “You’re awful,” he says, eyes crinkling with amusement.

Minho stares at the two of you, visibly disturbed. “You two are fucking insane. I’m not dying with you clowns.”

As if on cue, Minho reaches to open his desk drawer and PFFFFT! Another puff of white powder explodes into his face. He jerks back, sputtering and swatting at the cloud around him.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” he shouts, coughing as he frantically waves his hands to clear the powder. His eyes dart around the room in horror as he sees the fine dust settling on his shirt.

And then, as if on cue, there’s another PFFFFT! from Jeongin’s desk, sending a similar cloud of white powder into the air.

One by one, desks throughout the bullpen erupt in clouds of powder, each explosion met with gasps, curses, and shouts of “What the hell?!”

Now, at least seven officers stand in powder-covered horror, looking around at each other like deer caught in headlights.

You lean back in Jisung’s chair, arms folded, and let out a theatrical sigh. “It’s like a damn anthrax snowglobe in here.”

Chan stands in the middle of the chaos, looking around with a deadpan expression and slowly rubbing his temples. “This- this is just fucking fantastic,” he mutters. “Seven packets of possible anthrax. All opened. In my station. At once.”

He turns to you, eyes narrowing with a desperate look. “Y/N, you’re a nurse. If this is anthrax-”

“Oh, we’ll all die, no question,” you say far too casually, waving a dismissive hand. “Very unpleasantly, but yeah. It’ll be over soon. Painful but quick”

Jisung gives you a nudge, his smile widening. “You sure you’re not sugarcoating it just a little?”

You tilt your head, pretending to think about it. “Nope. Just straight facts.”

Minho, wiping powder from his face with a look of pure frustration, groans. “You’ve got to be kidding me. All these years on the force, and this is how I go?”

“Tragic,” Felix says, eyeing the powder on his desk like it’s a mortal insult. “I always thought I’d go out in style. You know, something heroic like leaping from a helicopter or rescuing someone from a burning building. This is just fucking depressing.”

You look around, dusted, exhausted, and oddly exhilarated by the chaos. “Well, when life gives you anthrax…” you trail off with a shrug.

Felix raises his coffee cup in salute. “We all go out covered in powder, blood and vomit.”

And with a weary shake of his head, Chan walks back into his office, muttering something about a "transfer request form" under his breath as the bullpen erupts in laughter once more.

Four hours later, the precinct feels like a tomb, the initial panic over the anthrax threat having decayed into a sluggish boredom that clings to the room like a fog. 

Felix stares dead-eyed into his cup, as if expecting it to reveal some hidden truth, while Minho, growing increasingly restless, has resorted to flicking crumpled paper balls at the back of Jeongin’s head. Each hit makes Jeongin flinch, but he’s too tired to even retaliate, just accepting Minho's antics.

You’re leaned back in Jisung’s chair, spinning lazily every now and then as if the motion might somehow break up the monotony. Your coffee, now cold, sits forgotten in your hand, and Jisung, ever the optimist, sits beside you, trying to make light conversation.

“Hey, at least we have each other’s company, right?” he says, nudging you with a hopeful smile.

You raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. “It’s my day off, Jisung. I didn’t exactly plan on spending it in lockdown with a possible anthrax scare and shitty coffee.”

Before he can respond, the heavy clomp of boots echoes down the hallway. Your head snaps up, eyes locking onto the doorway just as two men in hazmat suits stride in, their suits rustling like whispers of salvation. You sit up slightly, watching them like they’re some sort of mirage, the long-lost cavalry finally arriving to end this dreary nightmare.

“Well, it’s about fucking time,” you mutter, your eyes following the men as they approach Chan, who looks about as thrilled as a man in his position could look.

Jisung leans over with a small smile, his voice barely above a whisper. “At least they’re here now.”

“Here now?” you scoff, turning to him with an incredulous look. “If this had actually been anthrax, we’d be dead already. What kind of response time is this? They took four hours, Jisung. Four. Do they think we’re immune?”

He stifles a laugh, but you can see his amusement in the crinkle at the corners of his eyes. Meanwhile, the hazmat men gesture to Chan, their voices muffled by their masks as they deliver what must be a lengthy explanation of protocols and procedures. Chan nods, his shoulders slumping just slightly as he listens.

After a few minutes, Chan clears his throat, his voice cutting through the room with forced authority. “Listen up, everyone! Hazmat just informed me that we could be here for another four to nine hours, depending on how long it takes them to conduct all necessary tests.”

A collective groan rises from the bullpen. Before anyone else can react, you whirl around to Jisung, fixing him with a dramatic, accusing stare.

“Divorce,” you declare, pointing at him with a flourish. “Effective immediately”

Jisung nearly chokes on his coffee, eyes wide. “What?!”

You stand up, throwing your arms out in exasperation, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’ve been stuck in this station for hours, with a looming potential biohazard threat. Anthrax or not, this is not how I wanted to spend my day off. This-” you gesture wildly at the room, encompassing the bored, powder-dusted officers around you. “is your fault, Jisung. All of it.”

Jisung stares at you, mouth half-open as he searches for words. “I…how is this my fault? I didn’t exactly order an anthrax scare for our quality time.”

“Oh, but it’s your job that dragged me into this mess!” you say, throwing your hands up again. “I could be at home, in a bathrobe, binge-watching crime dramas from the comfort of our couch. But no. I brought coffee here because I’m a supportive spouse, and now I’m paying the price for marrying you.”

Before Jisung can defend himself, Chan steps in, his voice cutting through like a referee at a boxing match. “Y/N,” he says, an amused smile tugging at his lips, “I’ll call the hospital and get you the day off tomorrow if that’ll make this any easier.”

You cross your arms, narrowing your eyes at Jisung with exaggerated triumph. “Well, would you look at that, Jisung? Your captain just saved our marriage.”

Across the room, Felix, who’s been slumped over his desk in a near-sleep state, perks up, chuckling into his hand. “Shit, Chan is pulling out the big guns. Saving marriages and shit.”

Jisung sighs, holding his hands up in a gesture of defeat as he chuckles. “Guess I owe him one.”

“You owe me more than that,” you mutter, sinking back into the chair and resuming your lazy spinning. “The day off and a full spa day when this is over.”

Jisung grins, leaning back with a playful look in his eyes. “Whatever you want, jagiya. Just as long as I don’t have to file those divorce papers.”

Minho, who’s been watching the entire exchange with a smirk, decides to chime in. “If she divorces you, Jisung, I’ll swoop right in. I mean, who wouldn’t want a spouse who brings Italian coffee in a potential biohazard situation?”

Felix snickers. “If you and Y/N got married, the world would implode. Too much chaos in one household.”

You shake your head, stifling a laugh as you look at Minho with a teasing smirk. “You’d never survive, Minho. One bad day, and I’d have you crying into your cereal.”

“Challenge accepted,” he says, his eyes glinting with mischief.

Chan sighs from his spot, still half-listening to the hazmat team’s explanations. “Enough with the matchmaking. If I have to sit through another hour of marriage talk, I’m filing a transfer request.”

Felix chuckles, leaning over to you with a conspiratorial grin. “Captain Bang, mediator of biohazard romances. Didn’t know it was part of the job description.”

“Must be in the fine print,” Chan mutters, shaking his head. "And I wish I had fucking read it properly"

One of the hazmat techs finally steps forward, addressing the room in a slightly garbled voice through his mask. “All right, folks, we’re going to start testing samples now. Please remain calm, avoid unnecessary movements, and try not to touch anything you don’t need to.”

The room collectively exhales in tired resignation. Minho raises his hand, deadpan. “Define ‘unnecessary movements.’”

The hazmat tech stares at him, either confused or completely done with the situation, it’s hard to tell through the mask. “Just sit tight, sir.”

Felix snickers, muttering under his breath, “The real anthrax scare is how bored we’re all going to be by hour nine.”

Jeongin, who’s been silently enduring Minho’s paper ball attacks, speaks up, a note of desperation in his voice. “If we’re going to be here for that long, can we at least get some food? We’ll starve at this rate.”

“Starve?” Minho raises an eyebrow, picking up his discarded coffee cup. “Nah, we’ll be fine. If we get desperate, we can always resort to cannibalism. Starting with Felix.”

Felix sputters, looking genuinely appalled. “Excuse me? Why me?”

“Self-preservation,” Minho replies smoothly. “You’re the smallest. Least resistance.”

Jeongin, unable to hide his grin, chimes in, “Plus, I bet you’d be like the chicken nugget of the group, Felix. Small, bite-sized.”

Felix rolls his eyes, tossing a paper ball at Jeongin. “I’m a gourmet meal, thank you very much. You’d all be lucky to have a piece.”

Jisung leans over, watching the hazmat team set up their equipment with growing fascination. “Is it bad that I’m sort of curious now? I mean, if this actually is anthrax, we’re kind of making history here.”

You look at him, incredulous. “History? History? If it is anthrax, we’ll be coughing up blood and dying in a very unglamorous way, Jisung. That’s not exactly the kind of legacy I had in mind.”

He shrugs, grinning. “Could make for a hell of a story, though.”

You stare at him, shaking your head. “The next time you want a story, we’re sticking to action movies, not anthrax.”

The hazmat techs start running their samples, and the room falls back into a dull, exhausted silence. You recline in Jisung’s chair, closing your eyes, already imagining the blissful tranquility of a spa day—a very overdue, very earned spa day.

After a while, Felix breaks the silence, his voice low and almost wistful. “You know, if we make it out of this alive, I think I’m going to adopt a cat. Just something small and not life-threatening.”

Jeongin snorts. “You’ll have to survive this lockdown first, man. Don’t go making promises you can’t keep.”

You chuckle, throwing an arm around Jisung’s shoulder. “Fine by me. But if one more puff of powder goes off, I swear, I’m taking the first plane back to Italy and leaving you all to fend for yourselves.”

Jisung just laughs, resting his head against yours. “Whatever you want, jagiya. I'll get on the plane with you.”

Another five gruelling hours crawl by, and the precinct has transformed into a restless prison of boredom and frustration. The air is thick, and stagnant, punctuated only by Felix’s occasional sighs and the relentless tap-tap-tap of Minho’s fingers drumming on his desk. Everyone’s slumped, sprawled out, or halfway to sleep when the two hazmat guys finally reappear, their footsteps echoing like a siren of salvation.

You sit up, barely daring to hope, as the hazmat team heads straight to Chan. After a low, muffled conversation, Chan’s face twists into a mask of pure exasperation. He turns back to the bullpen, the entire room watching him with expectant, tired eyes.

“All right, listen up!” he calls, and every officer straightens slightly, waiting. “The tests are done.” Chan sighs, pausing for what feels like an eternity. “The powder is harmless. A mix of…skin irritants. Talcum powder, cornstarch, and”—he pauses, clearly trying to keep his composure—“itching powder.”

A split second of stunned silence, then the room erupts.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Minho’s hands slam down on his desk as he surges to his feet, his voice a full octave higher than usual. “Nine hours locked down for itching powder?!”

Felix lets out a long, theatrical groan, slumping back in his chair like he might just dissolve into the floor. “Nine hours of this hell, and all we needed was a good rinse in the shower?”

Everywhere around you, officers are grumbling, voices overlapping as they process the absurdity of the past hours. You can’t take another second of it, not Minho’s complaining, not Felix’s endless sighing, not even Jeongin’s eye-rolling. You reach into Jisung’s desk drawer, grab one of the remaining powder packets, and before you can think better of it, you hurl it directly at Minho’s face.

The packet explodes on impact, a cloud of white dust billowing around him. There’s a split-second of silence before laughter explodes through the bullpen, ringing off the walls. Felix slides off his chair, practically wheezing as he gasps for breath, and Jeongin is clapping, grinning like you’ve just performed the greatest prank in the world.

Minho splutters, wiping powder from his eyes, his expression a blend of betrayal and disbelief. “Y/N! You took an oath to do no harm!”

You fold your arms, raising an eyebrow. “Nope. That’s the doctor’s oath. I’m a nurse. Totally different.”

He glares at you, dusted in white powder like a disgruntled snowman. “Unbelievable. Nine hours of hell, and this is how I’m treated? I’m filing a report, mark my words.”

Jisung snickers, reaching over to pat your shoulder. “Go ahead, file it under N. For No one gives a fuck.”

Felix, still practically in tears from laughter, chimes in, “Or under T, for Talk to someone who fucking cares.”

Jeongin joins in, his face lit up with mischievous glee. “Or S, for Shut the fuck up, no one gives a shit.”

Hyunjin, who’s been scrolling on his phone the whole time, doesn’t even look up. “Or D, for Don’t give a fuck.”

Minho’s eyes widen, his jaw dropping as he looks around the room, his face a mask of disbelief and faux betrayal. “I’m being bullied by my own subordinates! This is harassment!”

From his desk, Chan finally speaks, his voice weary and deadpan. “Minho, shut the fuck up.”

Minho’s hands fly to his chest in mock agony, his tone an exaggerated whine. “Now I’m being bullied by the big boss! This is it. No one loves me anymore!”

You lean back in your chair, grinning as you taunt, “I bet even your wife is done with your shit. She’s probably using this lockdown as the perfect chance to call her divorce lawyer.”

Felix’s eyes gleam with wicked delight as he gasps dramatically, “Filed under D, for Disappointing dick game!”

Minho’s face flushes a deep crimson, his eyes bulging as he points a finger at Felix. “Disappointing dick game? You little—”

Chan raises his hands, his face pale with horror as he plugs his ears. “Nope. Nope. Not touching this one. Not taking it to HR.”

You lean forward, eyes glinting with mischief. “You could always file it under O, for One-pump chump.”

Jisung nearly falls out of his chair, laughing so hard his coffee almost spills. Felix has rolled onto the floor, clutching his stomach as he gasps for air, and the rest of the officers are chuckling, some tossing balled-up paper and pen caps at Minho, who looks moments away from either combusting or joining in the chaos.

Minho straightens, arms crossed as he tries to look dignified. “All right, don’t think I won’t shoot every last one of you and then myself!”

Felix, propping himself up on one elbow from his spot on the floor, grins up at Minho. “With your aim, Minho? You’d miss yourself and take out half the precinct’s ceiling instead.”

Laughter ripples through the room again, some officers nearly falling out of their chairs, and even Chan has a hand covering his mouth, clearly struggling not to join in.

Minho raises an eyebrow, trying to regain control as he looks over at Chan. “Captain, I’m seriously filing a complaint. This is hostile work environment behaviour.”

Chan’s gaze turns steely, but his lips are twitching as he struggles to hold back laughter. “Minho, one more word, and I’ll personally throw you out of the window.”

Minho huffs, crossing his arms like a petulant child. “Fine. Just know that when I finally lose it, none of you will be safe.”

You glance over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Lose it? Minho, you lost it the day you joined this precinct. You’re a ticking time bomb of mild inconveniences.”

Jeongin nods, grinning. “Pretty sure your wife would agree, too. She’s probably planning her exit strategy as we speak.”

Felix smirks, winking at Minho. “Filed under M, for Maybe if you were better in bed.”

The room howls with laughter as Minho’s face turns an even deeper shade of red, and you can almost see the smoke rising from his ears. He holds up a finger, shaking it at Felix. “You better hope I don’t catch you in the locker room after this, Lee Felix.”

Felix shrugs, unphased, throwing a playful salute as he leans back in his chair. “Bring it on, grandpa. I can take you.”

Without warning, you walk over to Minho's desk, grab the last remaining packet of powder, and in one smooth motion, smush it directly into his face. There’s a split second of stunned silence before the bullpen erupts in laughter and cheers. Felix lets out a gleeful whoop, practically falling off his chair, while Jeongin laughs so hard he’s clutching his stomach.

Minho sputters, wiping at the powder coating his hair and face, his eyes wide with indignation. “You! I’m going to arrest you for assaulting an officer!” he shouts, launching himself from his chair and charging after you.

You’re already darting across the bullpen, laughter bubbling out of you as you throw a cheeky glance over your shoulder. “Oh yeah? And who’s going to patch you up next time you hurt your wrist being handcuffed to the headboard with your departmentally issued cuffs while getting down and dirty with your wife?”

The bullpen falls silent for a second, jaws dropping as they process your words. Then Felix lets out an ear-splitting scream. “Oh my god! Minho’s sprained wrist was a sex injury?!”

Minho halts mid-chase, face flushing crimson as he slaps a hand over his eyes. “We swore to secrecy!” he protests, his voice cracking with embarrassment.

You duck behind Felix’s desk, grinning wickedly. “Did we? Because I don’t seem to remember that.”

Felix, now nearly in tears, doubles over in his chair, barely able to catch his breath. “This is officially the best day of my life,” he manages to gasp out.

Minho lunges toward you again, but you spring over the desk like a gymnast, dodging his grasp with ease. He stops in his tracks, watching you with a mixture of exasperation and grudging admiration. “Are you some kind of burglar in your spare time?”

You laugh, tossing him a wink. “Had to be, to pick those damn cuffs you left lying around!”

Laughter erupts around the room again, with even Chan chuckling under his breath. Minho, panting and glaring at you, looks around for backup but finds only grins and raised eyebrows. He turns to Jisung, who’s leaning back in his chair, thoroughly entertained. “I’m arresting your wife, Han. You better be ready to bail her out.”

Jisung’s grin widens as he stretches back comfortably. “Go ahead and try. I’ll tase you before you can even get the cuffs out.”

Minho narrows his eyes, crossing his arms. “Oh, so now you’re threatening to tase me?”

Jisung shrugs, lifting his coffee cup in a lazy salute. “If it means protecting my wife, absolutely.”

The room breaks into another round of laughter, with Jeongin egging you on, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he hands you yet another packet of powder. “Here. Third time’s the charm.”

Minho stares at you, eyes wide as he holds up his hands in surrender. “I am serious about this arrest, Y/N,” he growls, his face still dusted with powder.

You raise an eyebrow, grinning. “Great, but if you do, can you at least use someone else’s handcuffs? I don’t want any residue from your…extra-curriculars.”

The entire room dissolves into hysterics again, Felix’s cackles echoing off the walls as he practically falls out of his chair. Minho’s face grows redder and redder as he points accusingly at Jisung. “This! This is who you married?!” His voice is incredulous, the words practically dripping with mock disgust.

Jisung only shrugs, his eyes gleaming with pride. “Minho, you were at our wedding. You even made a toast. You know I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Minho throws his hands up dramatically, shaking his head in dismay. “At the time, she was the sweet, sexy Italian nurse you somehow tricked into marriage. We were all baffled by it! But now…now she’s just an evil, powder-wielding menace!”

Jisung leans back in his chair, draping his arm over your shoulders with a smug grin. “Yeah, but she’s my evil, powder-wielding menace.”

Seungmin, who’s been watching the whole scene unfold with amusement, finally speaks up, his tone incredulous. “No, seriously, Han. How the fuck did you manage to marry her? I need to know.”

Felix, still half-laughing, adds, “Did you slip something in her coffee, man? Because this feels like a miracle.”

You swat Jisung’s arm playfully, grinning. “Trust me, if there’d been anything suspicious in my coffee, I’d have come to my senses and left ages ago.”

The laughter crescendos as officers toss playful insults at Minho, who looks as though he’s about to burst. Finally, just when he seems on the edge of a breakdown, Chan steps in, his voice a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Minho, you’re not arresting her. If anything, she’s doing us all a favour by keeping you in line.”

Minho looks at Chan, his jaw dropping in exaggerated offence. “I don’t even have my captain’s support! What happened to having each other’s backs, huh?”

You lean back in your chair, crossing your arms with a smug grin as Minho mutters, still clearly in shock from the betrayal. Felix, ever the instigator, can’t resist tossing in one last jab. “Hey, Minho, why don’t you go cry to your wife? Oh wait—she’s probably signing those divorce papers as we speak.”

The laughter roars again, and Minho looks as though he’s on the verge of a meltdown. Before he can retaliate, you lean back into Jisung’s embrace, his arms wrapping protectively around you as he chuckles.

“So, after all this,” Jisung murmurs near your ear, “will you still bring us coffee?”

You tilt your head back slightly, smirking up at him. “Only if you start keeping a blanket and pillow in your locker so I can nap next time there’s a lockdown.”

Jisung raises an eyebrow, grinning. “If you’d asked, I’d have told you. I’ve had a blanket and pillow in there for months.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “You’ve had a blanket this whole time? And I’ve been stuck here, caffeine-deprived and nap-deprived? Jiiiiisung!”

He laughs, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “Hey, on the bright side, we can go home now. I’ve racked up a solid six hours of overtime, and we’ve got the whole day tomorrow for movies, naps, and, of course, proper Italian coffee.”

You sigh contentedly, letting your head rest against his shoulder. “Fine. But I’m holding you to it.”

Jisung chuckles, loosening his hold on you just enough to stand up. “What are we waiting for, then? Let me change out of this uniform, and we’ll get out of here.”

He gives you a playful wink and heads to the locker room. The second he’s out of earshot, you swivel back to Minho, who’s still brooding at his desk, and raise an eyebrow.

“Surprised you’re still here, Minho,” you say, grinning wickedly. “Your wife’s probably already got her lawyer on speed dial, ready to serve those papers.”

Minho narrows his eyes at you and scoops up a handful of powder left on his desk, flinging it at you. It flutters through the air, dusting your hair and shoulders. Unphased, you brush it off with a smirk.

Felix, watching with barely contained laughter, leans back. “Y/N still looks like a goddamn model, and Minho looks like he’s auditioning for a low-budget winter horror movie.”

Minho’s face grows redder as he scowls around the room. “I hope this is anthrax. I hope it’s actually anthrax, and you all get what’s coming to you.”

Chan, not even looking up from his paperwork, sighs. “Minho, you’ve inhaled more of that stuff than anyone. You’re going first if it is.”

You laugh, pointing at Minho with a dramatic flair. “So we’ll get to laugh at you one last time before we go. Sounds perfect.”

Jisung returns from the locker room a few minutes later, looking relaxed and cozy in his black sweatpants and hoodie. He reaches for your hand, giving you a warm smile as he leads you toward the exit.

As you pass Minho’s desk, you can’t resist one last poke. “And, Minho? I’m off-duty tonight, so you’re on your own for any sex-related injuries. Better keep things vanilla—no handcuffs, no nipple clamps.”

Minho’s face flushes bright red, and the entire room pauses to stare at him, expressions ranging from shocked to delighted. Felix’s head snaps up, eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Hold up—did someone say nipple clamps?”

You and Jisung exchange a look, grinning, before turning in unison to point at Minho. The room explodes in laughter once again as Minho slams his hand over his face in mortification.

“Fine! So, I like a bit of spice. Sue me!” he shouts over the uproar.

The laughter only intensifies, but Minho lifts his chin, crossing his arms and attempting to look dignified. “At least I’m not the only one with skeletons. I know all about what you two get up to!” he says, pointing accusingly at you and Jisung.

Felix perks up, eyes wide with excitement. “Oh, I have to hear this.”

Minho leans back, smirking. “They do Grey’s Anatomy roleplay. Full doctor-nurse scenarios.”

Felix’s jaw drops, a slow grin spreading over his face. “Wait—how do you know that?”

Minho grins, clearly enjoying the attention. “I was picking up some old furniture from them. Let myself in, and there they were in the living room. Y/N in a slutty nurse outfit, and Dr. Han was conducting a very unethical exam.”

The bullpen erupts into laughter, louder than ever, and Jisung grins, pulling you close, unbothered by the revelation. You roll your eyes, fighting a smile, knowing Minho’s just getting you back.

Felix, wiping tears from his eyes, stammers, “Oh my god, this is the best thing I’ve ever heard. You guys are absolute legends.”

You shake your head, throwing a grin Minho’s way. “All right, all right. Keep those stories for next time, Minho. We’ll be back tomorrow if you want to keep sharing.”

Minho gives a mock salute, a grin spreading across his face. “I’ll save the best for last. But just you wait, Jisung. I’ve got more where that came from.”

Jisung chuckles, guiding you out of the bullpen, giving one last wave. “See you tomorrow, Minho.”

The door closes behind you, and the cool night air washes over your face as you take a deep breath, finally free from the laughter, the powder, and the relentless teasing. Jisung leads you to his car, and as you sink into the passenger seat, you can’t help but smile, feeling a giddy sense of satisfaction.

“Well,” you say, leaning back with a sigh, “that was a day.”

Jisung lets out a soft chuckle, starting the car. “It was something all right. But hey, now it’s just us. Tomorrow’s ours. Movies, naps, and that Italian coffee you’ve been promising me.”

You open one eye, giving him a sidelong glance. “No Minho?”

He smirks, reaching over to give your hand a squeeze. “Definitely no Minho.”

Jisung pulls into the driveway, the familiar warmth of home glowing like a promise as he shuts off the engine. You step out of the car, your heels clicking softly against the pavement as you stretch, arms raised above your head, sighing in relief to finally be back. Jisung joins you, his fingers intertwining with yours as you both head up the walkway, and for a moment, everything feels blissfully calm and quiet. Worlds away from the precinct’s chaos.

Inside, Jisung locks the door behind you, leaning against it with a weary but contented grin. “Shower?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you reply, laughing. “The last thing I need is that damn itching powder haunting me all night. Not dealing with nine hours of that just to be scratching in my sleep.”

He chuckles, squeezing your hand. “Good call. Let’s head up.”

You both kick off your shoes, and you grab the handrail as you make your way upstairs, your dress swishing softly with each step. In the bathroom, Jisung is already tugging his hoodie over his head, tossing it to the floor without a second thought. His grin turns wicked as he catches your eye. “What, no stripping from you?”

You roll your eyes but smile, unzipping the back of your dress and letting it slide from your shoulders, pooling around your feet. “Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” he says, his eyes twinkling as he slips off his sweatpants and steps into the shower. He twists the handle, testing the water temperature with his hand. “Come on, it’s perfect.”

You step in beside him, the hot water pouring over you, washing away the remnants of powder, sweat, and every ounce of stress. Jisung closes the glass door behind you, reaching for the shampoo and pouring a generous dollop into his hands.

“Here, let me,” he murmurs, massaging the shampoo into your hair with gentle fingers, his thumbs rubbing small circles along your scalp.

You close your eyes, melting under his touch. “God, how much powder did we inhale today? I feel like it’s in my hair, my lungs…my brain.”

He laughs, rinsing the shampoo from your hair. “Honestly, we’re probably sneezing up talcum powder for weeks. Worth it though—you looked like a total badass hurling that last packet at Minho.”

“Couldn’t resist,” you say, tilting your head back to let the water flow over your hair. “Besides, the whole thing was ridiculous. Nine hours of lockdown for itching powder?”

“You made it memorable, though,” he teases, his fingers running through your hair to make sure it’s completely clear. “Thanks for sticking it out with us.”

You scoff, giving him a playful nudge. “Like I had much choice. I’d have been thrown in lockup if I’d tried to escape.”

He snorts. “No way would I let that happen to my beautiful wife, stranded in her sundress and all. I’d fight anyone who tried to lock you up.”

“Anyone, huh?” you laugh, glancing over your shoulder at him. “Even Chan?”

Jisung lifts his chin defiantly. “Even Chan. Sure, he’d wipe the floor with me in seconds, but I’d make it look heroic. I’d do it for you.”

You laugh, turning to face him, your eyes sparkling. “Babe, you’re right. Chan would flatten you without breaking a sweat. One flex of those shoulders, and you’re done.”

“Hey!” he protests, scooping a handful of water and splashing it at you, eyes narrowed in playful accusation. “I thought you were on my side.”

Grinning, you wipe the water from your face. “I am on your side! You’re the one who said it!”

He huffs, though his grin is unstoppable as he lathers up the body wash, his hands moving over your shoulders and down your arms, lingering at your waist. “Sure, sure. Thanks for the support, traitor.”

“Just being realistic here,” you reply, biting back a laugh.

He smirks, his thumb tracing a soft circle on your hip. “Yeah, yeah. ‘Realistic,’ my ass.”

You nudge him lightly, but he only laughs, taking a step back to grab the body wash for himself. You let the hot water cascade over you, rinsing away the last of the powder, and sigh as the warmth melts the final bits of tension in your muscles. Once he’s finished washing, Jisung twists off the water, reaching for a fluffy towel on the wall.

Stepping out, you grab your favourite long robe with the marabou trim, wrapping it around yourself. Jisung, watching you with a smirk, secures a towel around his waist, eyebrows raised in admiration.

“You know,” he says, tilting his head as he eyes your robe, “they call those ‘femme fatale robes’ for a reason. You look like you’re about to seduce me for a stack of cash and a getaway car.”

You snort, pulling a comb through your damp hair. “Please. That’s the last thing on my mind right now. Food and sleep are the only things I’m interested in.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” he says, grabbing his razor from the sink and applying a dollop of shaving cream to his face. “I’m starving. How about takeout?”

“Sounds perfect,” you say, reaching for your skincare products. “Cooking anything tonight sounds like absolute torture.”

He chuckles, carefully shaving the stubble from his face. “Takeout and…a Harry Potter marathon?”

You grin, catching his eye in the mirror. “Now you’re speaking my language. Ravenclaw supremacy, all the way.”

“Uh, excuse me?” He pauses mid-brush, putting on an expression of exaggerated shock. “We all know Hufflepuff’s the real hero house.”

“Oh, Jisung,” you say, shaking your head as you smooth on some moisturizer. “Ravenclaws would outsmart everyone in seconds.”

“Psh, Hufflepuffs would win on loyalty and determination,” he counters, rinsing his razor. “We’re the ones who bring snacks, make sure everyone’s good, and still get the job done.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” you reply, patting on some eye cream. “Meanwhile, I’ll be doing what Ravenclaws do best: winning.”

He rolls his eyes, grinning as he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close. “Fine, Miss Ravenclaw Supremacy. Let’s go order some food before I pass out right here.”

Together, you head down the hallway to the bedroom, where Jisung grabs his phone and flops onto the bed, scrolling through food delivery options.

“So, what are we feeling? Pizza? Thai? Sushi?” he asks, glancing at you as you turn on the TV and pull up Netflix.

You curl up beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. “Let’s go with Thai. Feels earned after today.”

“Thai it is,” he says, quickly placing the order. He sets his phone down and wraps an arm around you, pulling you in closer. “And tomorrow morning, once we’re itch-free and well-rested, I’m making us the biggest breakfast ever. Pancakes, eggs, the whole deal.”

You sigh, melting into his warmth. “That sounds heavenly. But for now, we’ve got Thai on the way, Harry Potter ready to go, and we’re finally powder-free.”

Jisung grins, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he clicks play on The Philosopher’s Stone. “Nineteen hours and thirty-nine minutes of pure wizarding magic ahead of us.”

You snuggle deeper into him, grinning. “Perfect. Only way this night could be better is if you’d actually pick Ravenclaw.”

“Keep dreaming,” he chuckles, giving your side a gentle squeeze. “Everyone knows Hufflepuffs bring the real magic. Besides, what do Ravenclaws even bring? Trivia?”

“Intellect,” you say, sitting up slightly to give him a haughty look. “And let’s be honest—Ravenclaws would make amazing Aurors.”

He shakes his head, amused. “And Hufflepuffs would be the best Healers, the ones who’d save everyone after your ‘intellect’ gets you all hexed.”

You throw a pillow at him, laughing as he catches it easily. “You’re impossible.”

“Nah, I’m adorable,” he replies with a smirk, leaning in to give you a quick kiss. “And I’ve got Thai food on the way.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that,” you say, settling back against him as the movie starts.

When the doorbell rings twenty minutes later, Jisung jumps up, grabbing the food and quickly coming back to the bedroom, arms loaded with takeout bags. He spreads them out on the bed, grinning.

“All right, feast time!” he declares, opening the containers. “Green curry for you, Pad Thai for me, and spring rolls for both of us.”

You dig in, savouring the warm, spicy flavours, and let out a contented sigh. “This is exactly what I needed.”

Jisung grins, his mouth full of noodles. “Told you. Nothing like Thai and Harry Potter after a day like that.”

The movie plays on, and you both devour the food, laughing over scenes you’ve seen a thousand times and arguing over the merits of each Hogwarts house. As the night wears on, you find yourself drifting off against him, his arm a comforting weight around your shoulders.

Just as you’re about to fully doze off, Jisung gently shakes you awake. “Hey, don’t fall asleep yet. We’ve got a whole marathon to get through.”

You smile sleepily, snuggling into him. “Can’t help it. You make the perfect pillow.”

He laughs softly, shifting so you’re both lying down, pulling the blankets over you. “All right, fine. We’ll marathon it tomorrow. For now, get some sleep.”

You drift off with his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your back, the sound of the movie playing softly in the background. For once, there’s no powder, no noise, just the quiet warmth of home, Jisung beside you, and a full night of uninterrupted rest stretching out ahead.

[omgsquee2001]

She's Not Afraid: S. Cb Seo Changbin x fem!reader (College AU)

WC: 14.6K

CW: Epilepsy, mentions of seizures, pre-established flirtationship, threats

General Masterlist SKZ Masterlist

The Alpha Phi frat house buzzes with energy, a chaotic blend of booze, pizza, and loud banter filling the air. Pizza boxes are stacked haphazardly across the coffee table, each one a testament to a night of indulgence, and empty beer cans are forming small aluminium mountains along the edges of the room. The sectional couch sprawls in the centre, faded and worn from years of use, now populated by an assortment of sprawled-out figures. Each guy claims his own messy corner, stretched out, slouched, or slumped, depending on how many drinks they're in.

Changbin's the centrepiece, arms flung out with a half-eaten slice of pepperoni pizza in one hand and a half-crushed beer can in the other. His legs are stretched across the coffee table, blocking anyone who dares reach across for a slice. He takes a massive bite, barely noticing Jisung leaning over, his hand sneaking toward the box of wings.

"Dude, pass the wings," Jisung mutters, barely waiting for a response before reaching over. Felix's eyes narrow, and he pulls the wings closer, almost hugging the box.

"Back off, these are mine," Felix snaps, hugging the box to his chest with a mock possessiveness.

Jisung rolls his eyes, slumping back onto the couch, though he snags a random slice off the table in retaliation. "Mate, you act like I'm about to devour all your food or something."

Seungmin snorts, popping open a fresh beer. "As if you don't already eat half of everything in the house. We'd have more food if you didn't inhale it."

Hyunjin chuckles, one arm lazily draped over the back of the couch. He's reclined in a way that screams effortless cool, as if he was born lounging like this. "Let's be real, if we let him, Jisung would clear this table and ask what's for dessert."

"Shut it, Hwang," Jisung mutters, smirking as he crumples a napkin and tosses it in Hyunjin's direction. It misses, but the attempt is enough to get a round of laughs from the guys.

Across the room, Chan leans back, his head resting against the back of the couch as he glances at Changbin, a smirk tugging at his lips. "So, Changbin," he begins, eyes gleaming with mischief. "How's it going with that pretty girl from the gym?"

Changbin nearly chokes on his pizza, the slice wobbling in his hand as his face turns a shade darker. He swallows quickly, clearing his throat and trying to play it cool. "She's, y'know, shy. I mean, we talk music sometimes and trade song recommendations. She's got a Cocker Spaniel named Lady, and she talks about her dog like it's her child."

"Cute," Jeongin says, smirking. "But are you just planning to talk about dogs forever, or what?"

Changbin rolls his eyes, though he can't hide a small smile. "Shut up. She spots me sometimes when I'm lifting, but she's always doing cardio. It's not like we're, I dunno, running marathons together or something."

Felix wipes his fingers on his jeans, finally looking up from the box of wings. "You could make her a playlist. Like, a joint one. Gives you an excuse to ask for her number."

Changbin tilts his head, considering it. "That's not actually a bad idea. Could be a move."

Jeongin leans in, grinning wider. "Or, even better, ask her to go on a run around the college track. She's into cardio, right? Just tell her you need help with your 'endurance.' You know, real subtle."

The group bursts into laughter, and Chan raises his beer can, smirking. "Hey, it's all about showing vulnerability, right? Maybe she'll appreciate seeing Changbin 'work on his endurance.'"

Changbin laughs, lifting his can to meet Chan's. "Yeah, because it's totally believable if I start asking for cardio tips." He takes a long drink, imagining just how awkward he'd make that conversation. Just as he's about to reply, a loud thud echoes down from the stairs.

They all turn, eyes landing on Minho, who's barreling down the stairs, phone pressed to his ear and panic etched across his face. He's got one arm in a jacket, the other sleeve dangling as he frantically tries to shove his feet into his shoes mid-step, nearly tripping over the bottom stair.

"Minho, where the hell are you going?" Chan asks, brows furrowing as Minho hops on one foot, jamming his other shoe on.

Minho barely hears him, snapping into the phone. "Which hospital? Of course, I'm coming, you idiot. I'm your emergency contact, aren't I?" He's wrestling with his shoe, balancing the phone on his shoulder while trying to keep his jacket from slipping off.

The guys exchange confused looks, their laughter fading. Jisung leans forward, concern in his eyes. "Dude, what's happening?"

Minho huffs, his tone exasperated as he continues speaking into the phone. "No, you're not a hassle. You know you can't be alone for twenty-four hours after a seizure." He glances up, his gaze landing on the others as he mouths an apology. "Guys, mind if I bring a friend back here for the night? She can't be alone, and she needs a place to crash."

Chan nods immediately. "No problem, Minho. Bring her over, whatever you need."

Relief softens Minho's expression, though he's still wired with worry. He mutters a quick "thanks" before returning to the phone. "I've got your bag of clean clothes. Just stay there, alright? You're not going anywhere without me." He disappears into a small closet by the stairs, pulling out a duffel bag with one hand.

Jisung's eyes widen, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Oh, so that's why you've got a bag of women's clothes stashed away. Here I was thinking you'd eventually admit you look hot in a dress."

Minho throws Jisung a glare, clearly not in the mood. "Shut up, Jisung. It's not like that."

Jisung shrugs, unbothered. "Sure, sure. Whatever you say, man."

Minho gives the guys a final nod of thanks, then bolts out the door, the duffel bag swinging at his side. As the door clicks shut behind him, there's a brief silence, a palpable shift in the atmosphere.

Felix breaks it with a soft laugh, shaking his head. "He's wound up as hell. You can tell he's worried."

"Yeah," Chan murmurs, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Not often you see him like that."

Seungmin smirks, watching the door where Minho just disappeared. "Guess Minho's got a soft spot after all."

Changbin stretches, letting out a long sigh as he finishes his beer. "Don't act like you're all cold-hearted, Seungmin. You're softer than you let on."

Seungmin rolls his eyes, grabbing another slice of pizza, though there's a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Fuck off, Changbin." 

The conversation drifts back to the usual topics. Football, weekend plans, and tales of their latest misadventures. But each of them, in the back of their minds, is wondering about Minho and this friend of his who apparently means enough to him to turn him into a bundle of nerves.

An hour and a half has passed since Minho bolted out the door, and though the pizza boxes are mostly empty and the beer supply has dwindled, no one really seems in the mood to keep partying. They're all sprawled out in their usual spots, but the rowdy energy from earlier has fizzled out, replaced by a quiet, anxious sort of anticipation. 

Felix, who's been mindlessly tapping his fingers against the side of his empty beer can, finally breaks the silence. "Did any of you guys know Minho had a friend with epilepsy?"

There's a general murmur of head shakes and shrugs, and Changbin raises an eyebrow, scratching the back of his head. "Honestly, no clue. Minho's always been kinda private, though. He's not exactly the type to overshare."

"Yeah, but still," Felix mutters, his voice softer now, almost concerned. "You'd think he'd at least mention it if he had a friend dealing with something serious like that."

Seungmin leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he thinks it over. "Maybe he kept her away intentionally. Some people with epilepsy have seizures triggered by stress or overstimulation. Let's be real, this house isn't exactly a chill place. Between Jisung's chaotic energy and, well, all of us, we'd probably set her off within five minutes."

Jisung snorts, nudging Seungmin with his elbow. "Hey, I resent that. My 'chaotic energy' is a national treasure."

"Right, and pizza grease is a vitamin," Seungmin deadpans, shooting him a look. "Point is, it makes sense why he wouldn't bring her around."

Chan sighs, running a hand through his hair as he takes in the group. "Alright, listen up. When Minho gets back, we're keeping things calm, got it? No wild shit, no random loud noises. She's gonna need a quiet space, and if Minho trusts us enough to bring her here, we owe it to him to not screw it up."

Jeongin raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms with a slight smirk. "Us? Calm? You're asking for a miracle here, Captain."

Chan's eyes narrow, though there's a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yes, Jeongin. Calm. And if you can't manage that, you can go hide upstairs."

Jeongin scoffs but doesn't argue. "Hey, I can do calm. Don't underestimate me just 'cause I look like trouble."

The tension eases a bit with the exchange, and Chan lets out a small chuckle, nodding around the room. "Good. So let's make it work, yeah?"

Across the room, Jisung is sitting next to Changbin on the couch, his phone out as he scrolls through a series of articles. His face is serious, brows knit as he reads through a particularly lengthy section. "We should probably look up what to do for someone who's just had a seizure, right? Last thing we need is to be clueless and make things worse."

Changbin leans over to glance at the screen, squinting at the tiny font. "Good call. I mean, we've all seen medical dramas, but I don't think TV advice is gonna cut it here."

Seungmin, overhearing them, nods thoughtfully. "If she's here for the night, Minho'll probably want her close by. He might even stay up to keep an eye on her, just in case. Seizures can be unpredictable like that."

Jisung reads aloud, clearing his throat as he goes over a bulleted list. "Alright, here's what it says. 'After a seizure, people can feel disoriented, exhausted, or generally out of it. It's best to give them a calm, quiet environment, avoiding overwhelming them with noise or bright lights.'" He pauses, looking around at the group with a pointed expression. "In other words, we act like normal human beings and not frat house degenerates."

Changbin smirks. "I don't know if we've ever pulled that off, but I guess now's as good a time as any to try."

Jisung continues, tapping a highlighted section on his screen. "It says, 'Offer water or a light snack if they're feeling up to it. And don't make them feel self-conscious about what happened.'" He looks around, giving each of them a look. "No pity stares, no 'are you okay?' every five seconds. Just... be normal."

Hyunjin nods from his spot on the couch, his legs crossed as he leans back. "Makes sense. Last thing anyone wants after going through something intense is to feel like a sideshow. We just treat her like anyone else."

"Yeah," Jeongin chimes in, nodding. "Even if she's, like, passed out in Minho's bed or something, we just act normal."

Jisung scrolls down a bit more, his face softening as he reads on. "And here's another part: 'Some people experience memory loss or confusion afterward, so be patient if they're struggling with details or need a moment to get their bearings.' Basically, if she's out of it, we just go along with it."

Felix nods thoughtfully, fiddling with the tab on his beer can. "So, we go with the flow, no pressure, and we don't make her feel weird about any of it. Easy enough."

There's a pause, a moment of silence where everyone seems to take in the weight of the situation, and then Chan speaks up, his voice a touch quieter. "I never really thought about Minho having to deal with something like this. He always acts like nothing gets to him, but... this has gotta be hard."

Seungmin nods, looking toward the door. "Yeah. Minho can be an ass sometimes, but the fact that he's her emergency contact? That says a lot about how much he cares. He's got a real soft spot under all that attitude."

Felix's gaze shifts to the door, as though expecting Minho to walk back in at any second. "We're here for him. Even if he doesn't say it, he knows that."

Jisung looks up from his phone, a slight smile tugging at his lips. "Honestly, I'm surprised he asked for our help. Normally, he's pretty tight-lipped about his personal life."

Changbin leans back, folding his arms behind his head as he looks around. "Exactly. The fact that he's bringing her here means he trusts us. We can't mess this up."

The group exchanges nods, the usual teasing and laughter gone, replaced by a quiet resolve. They might be a chaotic bunch, but tonight, they're a family—and that means stepping up, even if it means breaking character.

Chan raises his empty can, gesturing around the room. "To keeping it calm. For Minho, and for his friend."

Everyone raises their cans, some of them empty, some nearly there, all of them mirroring Chan's gesture. A soft chuckle ripples through the room as they clink their imaginary toast, each of them understanding the weight of the words. For all the loudness, mess, and chaos, they're all on the same page tonight.

As they settle back, the living room falls into a comfortable quiet. Felix, leaning forward, glances around the dimly lit room. "So, what do we do now? Just sit and wait?"

"Pretty much," Chan replies, stretching his arms over his head. "We just keep things chill until they get here."

Changbin glances at the half-empty pizza box, nudging it toward Jisung. "Might as well polish this off. It's probably cold by now, but no sense letting it go to waste."

Jisung grins, snatching a slice. "I got no problem with that." He takes a big bite, chewing thoughtfully before glancing over at Seungmin. "Think Minho's gonna bring her right to his room?"

Seungmin nods. "If she's exhausted or out of it, yeah, he'll probably want her to rest right away. Best we can do is keep things low-key so she doesn't feel like she's walking into a zoo."

Jeongin kicks back, crossing his ankles on the coffee table. "It'll be a nice change of pace, honestly. Haven't had a chill night in... well, ever."

Felix laughs softly, leaning back with a small smile. "Guess we're all due for a breather anyway. Even if it's just for one night."

The front door opens, and you're barely aware of your surroundings as Minho helps guide you inside. Everything feels fuzzy like you're seeing the world through a foggy window. The lights in the frat house seem dim, yet they still make you squint. Your body feels heavy, your legs wobbly as Minho keeps a steadying arm around you.

"Someone help me get her on the couch," Minho says, his voice low but urgent.

In an instant, a few people spring into action. You recognize Jeongin vaguely as he comes up to help you, his hands gentle as they guide you to the couch. Changbin and another guy you don't recognize stand up quickly, making room for you. Someone with soft blond hair and warm eyes, drops a pillow down, fluffing it as you're slowly eased onto the couch. The softness is welcome against your back, and you sink into it, feeling a wave of exhaustion overtake you.

You feel someone tuck the pillow under your head, and though you're too disoriented to say thanks, the small, comforting gesture settles something in your chest. Your vision swims, and you blink slowly, vaguely taking in the faces around you.

Changbin leans over to the guy with the dark, undercut hair. His voice is barely a whisper, but you catch it, somehow. "That's the gym girl."

The guy next to him, who looks like he has "leader" written all over him, raises an eyebrow. "No shit?"

Changbin nods, glancing at you with a mix of surprise and intrigue. "Yeah."

"Huh," the guy replies, his smirk evident. "Small world, huh? Your gym crush just happens to be Minho's secret friend who you talk to about music and her dog."

You blink, realizing only vaguely that Changbin's familiar, but in this dazed state, you can't quite make sense of where you know him from. You don't have the energy to figure it out, either. Everything feels too heavy, like your head is stuffed with cotton, and you barely register what's going on around you. The voices of the guys blend together in a comforting hum, like a lullaby, as you try to focus on Minho's face.

One of the guys who had helped you onto the couch, observes you carefully. "She looks kind of out of it," he comments, his voice soft.

Minho nods as he settles next to you on the couch, his shoulder a familiar presence beside you. "They gave her sedatives to stop the seizure," he explains, glancing down at you with a softness you don't often see from him. You don't have to say anything; Minho's eyes seem to tell you that he's got everything under control, that you're safe here.

"Hey, honey bee," he murmurs, his voice gentle. "How're you feeling?"

You offer him a small smile, too exhausted to do much else. His familiar nickname for you brings a slight warmth to your chest, and it makes you feel safe, like maybe this isn't as scary as it feels.

Minho smiles back, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. "Want some tea?"

You nod, the thought of something warm and soothing appealing even in your foggy state.

"I'll do it," The blonde says from somewhere behind Minho. 

"Is there anything we need to do?" asks the guy with the undercut who Changbin had whispered to, his voice filled with a mixture of concern and readiness.

Minho shakes his head, looking around at all of them. "No, just keep an eye out. If she seizes again, she has emergency medication in her bag, which I can administer. But if it goes on for more than five minutes, we call an ambulance, got it?"

Everyone nods, their expressions serious, the easygoing vibe from before replaced by genuine concern. Minho continues, "When it's about to happen, her eyes roll back, and her lips twitch—those are the warning signs."

Another guy, tall with long black hair, raises his hand slightly, like he's thinking out loud. "Do we need to be careful of flashing lights or anything?"

Minho shakes his head again. "No, it's not photosensitive epilepsy. That's not one of her triggers."

The tall guy nods, looking slightly relieved as he glances away, thoughtful.

With a sigh, Minho sits back, giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "And... just so you all know, she's really shy. When she's more with it, speak softly, keep it chill. She's usually pretty foggy right after a seizure."

The guy with the undercut clears his throat and leans forward slightly. "Got it, Minho. We'll keep things quiet."

Minho glances back down at you, his voice soothing. "Y/N, this is everyone. Chan," he says, nodding toward the guy with the undercut, "Changbin, Hyunjin, Jisung, Seungmin, and Jeongin. Felix is the one making you tea."

You nod faintly, your brain struggling to process all the new names. You manage a slight smile at each of them, your eyelids heavy as you try to remember who's who. But the room's warmth and the sedatives are dragging you under, making it difficult to concentrate.

"Lady..." you mumble, the image of your dog, your sweet Cocker Spaniel, flashing in your mind. The worry is barely there, hazy at the edges, but you feel a pang of longing to have her here, her comforting presence by your side.

Minho squeezes your hand lightly, a comforting weight that steadies you. "I called my dad, okay? He's taken Lady to my parents' house. They'll look after her while you're here."

You nod slowly, comforted by the knowledge that Lady's safe. The tension in your shoulders eases, and you let your head drop, resting against Minho's shoulder. The warmth of his hoodie is familiar, grounding. The hum of the guys' quiet chatter fades into the background, soothing and soft.

Chan's voice is the last thing you hear as your eyes drift closed, his tone low and respectful. "We've got you, Minho," he says. "We'll take care of her."

You wake up in an unfamiliar bed, the hazy morning light filtering in through curtains you don't recognize. Blinking a few times, you realize you're in Minho's room. At the Alpha Phi frat house. The room smells faintly of his cologne and something uniquely Minho, comforting in its own way. You feel his warmth next to you, his body sprawled out under the covers as he snores softly, still completely dead to the world. It's familiar and comforting to have him beside you, even if this isn't your own space.

Careful not to disturb him, you slide out of bed. Your black sweatpants and oversized cardigan feel cosy against the slight chill in the room, and you're grateful for the fluffy socks on your feet as they muffle your steps. You locate your bag and dig through until you find the two pill bottles nestled at the bottom. Your body's sluggish from sleep and the lingering effects of last night, but you know you need to take your meds soon.

Tucking the pill bottles in your hand, you tiptoe out of Minho's room and quietly close the door behind you. Navigating through the unfamiliar layout of the house, you make your way downstairs. The sound of light clattering in the kitchen draws you forward, and you step inside to see a familiar figure perched at the kitchen island.

Jisung glances up from where he's scrolling through his phone, and his face lights up with a friendly smile. "Hey," he greets, setting his phone down. "I'm Jisung, by the way, in case you don't remember from last night. Minho mentioned you might be a bit foggy."

You return his smile shyly, nodding. "Yeah, it was a bit of a blur."

"Totally fair." He watches as you place your pill bottles on the counter. "Want some juice or something?"

"That'd be great, actually," you say softly. "Just nothing with grapefruit. It messes with my meds, it affects the levels in my blood or something."

Jisung nods thoughtfully, already moving to the fridge. "Got it, so tropical juice is out. How about orange or apple?"

"Either's fine, thanks."

He grabs the orange juice and pours you a glass, sliding it over with a casual ease that makes you feel at home despite the unfamiliar surroundings. You open your pill bottles, take out the morning dose, and swallow them down with a couple of gulps of the juice.

Jisung watches you for a moment, his gaze curious but not intrusive. After a beat, he says, "So... epilepsy, huh?" His voice is awkwardly casual, and it makes you laugh, breaking the tension.

"Yeah," you say, setting the glass down. "I've had it since I was born, actually. They think it's genetic. My grandmother had it, and so do my aunt and uncle on my dad's side. Guess I got lucky on the paternal genetics side of things."

Jisung nods, looking genuinely interested. "Damn. Must be a lot to handle."

You shrug, smiling softly. "You get used to it. Minho's been a big help, though."

He grins, leaning forward on his elbows. "Are you the friend Minho spends most nights with?"

"Yeah," you confirm, chuckling. "My seizures are more frequent at night, and even though Minho sleeps like the dead, if I so much as twitch in my sleep, he's up. Don't know how he does it, honestly."

"Minho's got this weird sixth sense or something," Jisung says, shaking his head. "He's a big softie, though he'd never admit it. Helps me out with my panic attacks too, like no one else gets me like he does."

"Sounds like Minho," you say, smiling at the thought. It's comforting to know that Minho's kindness extends to his other friends too, even if he tries to play it cool most of the time.

Jisung glances at you, looking thoughtful. "You want something to eat, by the way? I mean, if you're hungry, that is."

You shake your head, grateful but declining. "Maybe later. My meds usually make me feel a little nauseous right after, so I'll wait a bit."

"Cool, cool. Or... not cool. Uh—" He laughs at himself, looking slightly embarrassed. "Wanna watch some TV or something? We've got every streaming service you can think of. Perks of living with eight guys who all mooch off each other's subscriptions."

You laugh, finding his easygoing demeanour comforting. "Sure, that sounds good."

You follow Jisung to the living room, your steps slow and your head still feeling clouded. The couch is familiar from last night, and as you sink into it, the ache in your muscles dulls slightly, soothed by the soft cushions beneath you. Jisung plops down beside you, scrolling through the streaming options as he gets comfortable. His casual presence, a stark contrast to the strange, foggy feeling still in your head, makes you feel a little more grounded.

As you lean against him, you pause, feeling a little self-conscious. With a quiet voice, you ask, "Is this okay?"

Jisung glances down at you, giving you an easy, reassuring smile. "Yeah, whatever you need to be comfortable. Just relax." He lets you rest your head on his shoulder, and you feel him settle in, adjusting so you're more comfortable leaning against him.

You close your eyes for a moment, taking slow breaths as your hands find their way to his, noticing the silver rings on his fingers. They're cool and smooth, little bits of silver glinting in the morning light. Almost instinctively, you start fiddling with them, rolling one of the rings around his finger absentmindedly. He doesn't say anything, just nods and begins to run a gentle hand up and down your back, the rhythmic motion adding to the comforting weight of the moment.

There's a soft laugh from across the room, and you look up to see Felix standing in the doorway, grinning as he watches the two of you. "Ooh, I want in on this cuddle fest," he says, his voice full of playful warmth. "Is that okay?"

You nod, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "Yeah, that'd be nice. Physical touch, it helps ground me when I'm in this fog."

"Say no more," Felix replies, practically bounding over to the couch and settling on your other side. He drapes an arm around you, squeezing your shoulder lightly. "We're all about grounding here," he jokes, making himself comfortable.

You feel a sense of relief settle over you as you sit between the two of them. Felix's arm is warm around you, and Jisung's hand continues its comforting path along your back. The haze in your mind doesn't disappear, but their presence eases it, like two steady anchors keeping you from drifting off.

As you sit in comfortable silence, you hear footsteps coming from upstairs, the faint thud of someone moving down quickly. A moment later, Minho appears at the top of the stairs, his gaze scanning the room until it lands on you sandwiched between Jisung and Felix. He lets out a small sigh of relief, his expression softening as he takes in the scene.

He walks over, crossing his arms as he stands by the couch. "How're you feeling, honey bee?" His voice is gentle, but you can tell he's assessing you carefully.

You give him a small smile, leaning further into Jisung's shoulder. "Still a little foggy. My muscles are sore," you admit softly, glancing up at him.

He nods, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. "That's normal after a seizure, especially a long one. Just relax, okay? Let the guys spoil you a little."

Jisung looks up at Minho and checks his watch. "She took her meds about... twenty minutes ago, give or take."

Minho nods, his expression thoughtful. "Alright. Another forty minutes or so before you can eat, then, or else you'll end up feeling sick," he explains, glancing down at you with a comforting smile. "We'll get you something when the time's right."

You nod, relieved to have someone else keeping track of things for you. It's hard to focus on anything, the haze making it difficult to think straight. You turn your attention back to Jisung's hand, absently twisting the rings on his fingers again. He lets you fiddle with them, giving you a quiet, supportive smile.

Felix, meanwhile, squeezes your shoulder again, giving you a reassuring nudge. "Don't worry, we've got you. Just take it easy."

As you sit nestled between Jisung and Felix, a slight wave of disorientation begins to sweep over you. You blink, trying to focus, but your vision blurs. Your eyes roll back involuntarily, and although you're distantly aware of it, you can't seem to stop it. You're fighting to stay grounded, but it's like a part of you is slipping away.

Minho notices immediately, his eyes sharpening with concern. He's by your side in an instant, his hand on your shoulder. "Y/N," he murmurs, his voice low and steady, "stay with me."

But your eyes keep rolling back, and Minho's expression hardens with resolve. He quickly manoeuvers you so you're lying down with your head resting in Jisung's lap, making sure to position you on your side to prevent any complications.

Felix catches on fast, leaning forward anxiously. "Minho, what's happening?"

Minho's gaze is intense, focused entirely on you. "Lix, get the time," he orders, his voice firm. "She's about to seize."

Felix pulls out his phone, checking the time down to the second. "Got it," he says, his voice steadying, though his eyes reveal his worry.

Then Minho shouts, "CHANGBIN! GO TO MY ROOM AND GRAB THE BLACK TOTE BAG! THERE'S A YELLOW NASAL SPRAY IN IT! BRING IT DOWN NOW!"

Without a word, Changbin sprints up the stairs, taking them two at a time, his footsteps echoing through the house. Meanwhile, Minho's attention is back on you, his hand resting on your shoulder as he begins to speak in a low, comforting tone.

"You're okay, Y/N," he murmurs. "I'm right here, honey bee. Just breathe, alright? You're safe. We're all here for you."

Your teeth clench, and your eyes roll back fully as the seizure takes hold. You can vaguely hear Minho's voice as he speaks to you, his words a distant anchor in the chaos. Somewhere in the background, Felix keeps a watchful eye on the time, counting each second.

Changbin returns with the tote bag, practically leaping down the stairs. He rushes over to Minho, hands him the yellow nasal spray, his expression tense. "Here," he says, his voice a little shaky.

Minho takes the spray without missing a beat. He carefully positions it at your nose, giving you a gentle, reassuring touch before pressing the spray. "This'll help you, Y/N," he says softly, his tone unwavering. He administers the medication with precision, his movements quick and practised.

By this point, Chan, Jeongin, Hyunjin, and Seungmin have gathered in the doorway, watching with quiet concern. They're not used to seeing Minho like this—so intense, so protective. They can see how deeply he cares about you, every action of his filled with a gentle determination to ensure you're safe and as comfortable as possible.

Felix, who's been monitoring the time, calls out, "One minute, thirty seconds."

Minho nods, leaning over to check on you, his hand gently stroking your arm. He watches intently as the tension in your body begins to ease, the rigid movements slowing until, finally, you start to come out of it.

"She's coming out of it," Minho says softly, relief slipping into his voice. He glances up briefly at Changbin, who's still hovering nearby, his face etched with worry. "We're good. She's okay."

Changbin lets out a shaky breath. "You're sure?"

Minho nods, his gaze locked on you as he watches you closely, never looking away for long. "Yeah. It's over. She'll be alright."

Chan steps closer to Changbin, placing a hand on his shoulder. His voice is low, meant only for him. "You alright, man?"

Changbin exhales, rubbing the back of his neck as he watches you recover, the colour slowly returning to your face. "Yeah... it's just... I've seen her at the gym, full of life and everything, even though she's shy." His gaze drops slightly, a flicker of something unreadable in his expression. "Seeing her like this... it's hard. Makes it feel worse, you know?"

Chan nods, giving his friend's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "You like her. Of course, it's hard," he murmurs, a quiet understanding in his tone. 

After a few moments, Minho glances up at the others, his expression softening slightly as he shifts back to his usual self. "When she's coming out of it, she's gonna struggle to speak," he explains. "She'll stammer and get stuck on her 's' and 't' sounds. But talk to her normally. She understands everything. It's just hard for her to say what she wants because of where her epilepsy's localized in her brain."

The guys nod, absorbing his instructions, their faces a mix of concern and determination to help however they can.

As the fog begins to lift, you slowly become more aware of your surroundings. Minho's voice is the first thing you register, steady and calm, grounding you like a lifeline. Your muscles ache, a dull, pulsing soreness that reminds you of every second of the seizure. You blink a few times, trying to focus, and the familiar faces of the guys start to come into view, each one watching you with quiet encouragement.

Minho stays by your side, his voice gentle. "Hey, Y/N," he says, his tone soft and warm. "Take your time, alright? Just breathe."

Felix gives you a reassuring smile. "No rush. We're all here. Just relax, we've got you"

Changbin walks into the gym, the familiar scent of metal, rubber, and a hint of sweat greeting him like an old friend. He's barely halfway through the doors when he spots you across the room, running on the treadmill like nothing out of the ordinary had happened last week. You're moving at a steady pace, earbuds in, eyes focused straight ahead, and there's a lightness to your stride that makes it look almost effortless.

A small smile tugs at his lips as he watches you, secretly relieved to see you back to your usual self. You seem so at ease, like the chaos of last week's episode hasn't left any mark on you. He remembers how vulnerable you looked on Minho's couch, and seeing you this steady is a bit of a relief.

As if sensing his gaze, you glance over and notice him. Your eyes light up in recognition, and a shy smile spreads across your face. You press the "stop" button on the treadmill, unclipping the red emergency stop cord from your waistband, and step off. Walking over to him, you give him a small wave.

"Hey," you say, a little shy, though your smile is genuine. "Need a spotter?"

Changbin grins, the familiar feeling of easy banter slipping back into place. "Yeah, that'd be great," he replies, grabbing a pair of dumbbells as he leads you over to one of the empty benches. He lies back, adjusting himself for a bench press, and you stand ready beside him, hands poised just above the bar to help if he needs it.

He grips the bar and begins his reps, and after a few sets, he glances up at you, his expression shifting from his usual playful demeanor to one of genuine concern. "So... how are you feeling?"

You shrug, giving him a reassuring smile. "I'm fine. It's pretty normal for me. Been dealing with it since I was a kid."

"Yeah, but..." he hesitates, clearly choosing his words carefully. "Does the gym know about your condition? Like, do they have precautions set up for you?"

You nod, and with a quick motion, point over at a guy stationed near the free weights, busy re-racking plates. "Yeah, it's all sorted. That's Hongjoong," you say, gesturing subtly. "He's one of the managers here, and he keeps an eye out for me. I put it on my membership form when I signed up, so they know. And I always clip the emergency stop cord to my waistband when I'm on the treadmill. If anything happens, it'll pull out, and the treadmill stops instantly."

Changbin lets out a low whistle, impressed by the precautions. "Damn, you've got this all planned out, huh?"

"Kind of have to," you reply with a soft chuckle. "I also have one of those keys for the disabled toilets, so if I need some privacy or a place to sit down, I can just head there. It's not perfect, but it works."

He nods, continuing his reps, clearly absorbing everything you've said. After a beat, he asks, "So... how did you meet Minho?"

The question brings a smile to your face as you remember. "First lecture of freshman year," you say, your voice tinged with nostalgia. "I was so anxious about having a seizure in a room full of strangers that I actually started getting the warning signs right there in the lecture hall. Minho noticed and led me outside. He told me he had a first aid certificate, kept talking to me to keep me calm, and helped me through it. We've been friends ever since."

Changbin pauses mid-rep, looking up at you with a smirk. "So, Minho the badass was a lifesaver from day one, huh?"

You laugh, nodding. "Pretty much. He's always had my back. We're both in the same major too, so we ended up in most of the same classes. He's been a huge support."

Changbin racks the bar, sitting up and wiping a bit of sweat from his brow. "That sounds like Minho," he says with a fond smile. "He acts like he's all tough, but when it comes to the people he cares about, he's softer than anyone."

"Yeah," you agree, chuckling. "I've seen it with you guys too, actually. He might pretend he doesn't care, but I know he's always watching out for you."

Changbin laughs, shaking his head. "He's a menace, honestly. But yeah, he's good people." He pauses, glancing over at you, a soft curiosity in his gaze. "So... how are you doing now? I mean, really."

You give him a reassuring smile. "Really, I'm fine. The seizures can be intense, but it's just something I've had to learn to live with. I don't let it stop me."

He nods, impressed. "You're tougher than most people I know," he says, sincerity coloring his words. "It's good seeing you back here, looking like yourself."

Your cheeks warm a bit at the compliment, and you smile shyly, glancing away. "Thanks, Changbin. And... thanks for looking out for me last week."

He gives a small shrug, flashing you that familiar grin. "Hey, anytime. That's what friends or gym crushes are for, right?" His grin widens as he tosses you a wink, leaving you flustered but smiling nonetheless.

Changbin grins as he settles back into position, adjusting his grip on the bar. "You know, you should start coming around to the frat house more now that the guys know you exist in Minho's life," he says, lifting the bar and beginning another set of reps. "I mean, you know me and Minho, so you can swing by anytime. Whether it's to visit your handsome gym buddy"—he gives you a quick wink—"or Minho. Hell, we've all read up on seizures, and Minho gave us a full-on crash course. We're prepared."

You chuckle softly, a bit shy under his gaze. "I mean... I showed up at your house after a hospital trip and then had a seizure in Jisung's lap the next morning. And you still want me around?"

He sets the bar back with a clink, sitting up and giving you a playful nudge. "Of course we do! I always want a pretty girl around. Especially ones who spot me, give me solid music recommendations, and have a cute dog. You've got an all-access pass to the house."

You bite your lip, feeling warmth rise in your cheeks at his compliment. Changbin just keeps grinning, though, leaning back with an easygoing confidence that's hard to resist.

"Besides," he adds, grabbing his water bottle and taking a long sip, "none of us care that you have a medical condition. Like, at all. We're a weird bunch ourselves. I mean, have you met Chan?"

You tilt your head, laughing softly. "I don't think I've had the pleasure of truly meeting him yet."

Changbin groans dramatically, rolling his eyes. "Lucky you. Look, between you and me, the man has the foulest fucking farts known to mankind. I swear, it's practically a biological weapon. The guy needs a doctor, maybe even an exorcist. Seriously, it's worse than any seizure situation by a long shot."

You burst into laughter, covering your mouth, but Changbin isn't done. "I'm warning you, if you start coming around more, you're unfortunately gonna experience one of Chan's episodes firsthand. And for that, I apologize in advance. It's an assault on the senses."

You shake your head, grinning at his dramatic antics. "Noted. I'll bring an extra air freshener or something next time."

"Good call," he says, nodding sagely. "Maybe two. We'll need the reinforcement."

As he lies back to start another set, he gives you a quick glance, a little softer now. "But seriously, none of us give a shit that you have a medical condition. We're just glad to have you around, you know?"

His tone is genuine, and it makes you feel a bit more at ease. You smile, reaching over to squeeze his shoulder. "Thanks, Changbin. I might just take you up on that invite. Just make sure to keep the air fresheners stocked, okay?"

"You got it," he says with a smirk, resuming his reps with newfound energy.

Changbin walks into the Alpha Phi house with an unmistakable grin, still feeling the buzz from his time at the gym. He drops his gym bag by the door, the thud of it hitting the floor echoing faintly as he makes his way to the kitchen. The house is quiet for once, probably because half the guys are out or asleep, and he decides to take advantage of the peace, headphones still snug over his ears. The familiar beat of "APT" by Bruno Mars and Rose pumps through his ears, and he can't help but hum along, even adding in a little shoulder shimmy as he reaches for the protein powder.

Just as he's tossing a scoop of powder into his shaker, he catches sight of Minho leaning against the kitchen doorway, arms crossed with a bemused look on his face.

"'APT,' huh?" Minho asks with a smirk, nodding toward Changbin's headphones. "You know that's Y/N's current favourite song?"

Changbin freezes for a split second, then shrugs, keeping his expression casual. "Yeah, funny coincidence, right? It's pretty popular right now."

Minho narrows his eyes, clearly not buying the nonchalance but letting it slide. "I guess so." He watches as Changbin continues making his shake, his gaze curious. "You know... you've seemed a lot happier lately. Got a spring in your step. Something going on? A girl, maybe?"

Changbin pauses, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks, though he quickly tries to brush it off. "Uh, yeah," he says, trying to keep it casual. He shakes up his drink and takes a sip, avoiding Minho's gaze.

Minho lets out a laugh, slapping him on the shoulder. "Good for you, man. Honestly, about time. You've been on a bit of a dry spell recently, haven't you?"

Changbin rolls his eyes, a smirk playing at his lips. "Thanks for the reminder, asshole."

Minho grins, pushing himself off the doorframe. "Hey, no judgment. I'm just saying it's good to see you like this." He pauses, giving Changbin a pointed look. "So, what's the deal then? This isn't just some random hookup?"

Changbin hesitates, taking another sip of his shake to buy himself a second to think. "It's... different," he admits finally, glancing away as he shrugs. "I actually like her."

Minho raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the confession. "Oh, really?" He lets out a low whistle, shaking his head. "Damn, I didn't think I'd see the day. Who is she, then? Anyone I'd know?"

Changbin gives a quick, almost panicked shake of his head, hoping to steer the conversation in a different direction. "Nah, just someone I met... you know, around. She's just... different, that's all." He hopes the vague response will keep Minho from digging any further.

Minho nods, thankfully letting it go. "Well, I'm happy for you, man. Seriously. If anyone deserves something real, it's you." He claps Changbin on the shoulder, and there's a genuine warmth in his tone. "Just don't keep her waiting, alright? Take a chance."

Changbin chuckles, feeling both relieved and a little guilty. "Yeah, I'll keep that in mind."

As Minho heads out of the kitchen, Changbin watches him go, feeling the weight of keeping this from his friend. He takes another sip of his shake, thoughts swirling with the excitement of seeing you, balanced by the nagging guilt of hiding it from Minho. But as he hums the rest of "APT" to himself, he can't help but smile, thinking of the next time he'll see you.

You're sprawled out on Minho's bed, leaning against the wall as you flip through his well-worn collection of books and random knick-knacks scattered on the shelf nearby. The air in his room is comfortable, and the cozy light filtering through the window makes everything feel calm, settled. Minho is lying beside you, his legs stretched out as he scrolls through something on his phone, occasionally glancing over with an amused smirk every time you get lost in one of his odd collectibles.

You take a deep breath, feeling a sudden impulse to bring up something that's been on your mind lately. "Hey," you start, voice quiet. "I was thinking... maybe about dating again?"

Minho stops scrolling, raising an eyebrow as he looks over at you. "After what happened last time?" His tone is cautious, his gaze scanning your face for any sign of hesitation.

You shrug, looking down at his hand, where you start fiddling with the silver rings on his fingers, twisting them absentmindedly. "I mean... yeah, I know last time was a disaster, but... what if it's different this time?"

Minho snorts, clearly unconvinced. "Y/N, the last guy literally asked if you'd seize during sex to see if it would make you 'tighter.' Are you seriously ready to risk that kind of bullshit again?"

You cringe, the memory still making your stomach turn. "Yeah, okay, that was... that was awful. But it doesn't mean every guy's going to be like that. What if... I met someone who already knows about my condition? Someone who's never treated me any differently?"

Minho's eyes narrow, his curiosity obviously piqued. "Wait—have you?"

You feel your cheeks heat up, suddenly all too aware of how revealing that question is. You hesitate, and that's all the confirmation Minho needs. He stares at you, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "You sneaky little shit. You've been hiding a whole man from me?"

You duck your head, still playing with his rings as you avoid his gaze. "I- I wouldn't say 'hiding.' Just not bringing it up yet. It's new."

Minho's grin only widens as he shakes his head in disbelief. "Unbelievable. And here I thought you told me everything. You know, I'm your best friend. It's practically illegal to keep this kind of shit from me."

You shrug again, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "It's not like I'm intentionally keeping secrets. It jus hasn't come up."

"Right." He's studying you now, eyes narrowed in mock suspicion. "Thank God it's not one of my frat brothers. I'd have to get out the shovel and bury them in the backyard."

You bite your lip, feeling a pang of guilt, but you don't say anything. Instead, you just keep fiddling with his rings, twisting them around his fingers as you keep your gaze down.

The silence makes Minho's eyes widen in realization. "Wait, is it?"

You shake your head quickly, but he can tell by the way you're avoiding eye contact that there's something there. "Look, I... I'm not ready to say who yet. But it's- It's good. I promise."

He lets out a frustrated sigh, rolling his eyes. "Fine. I'll drop it. For now," he mutters, a smirk tugging at his lips. "But only because I know you'll crack eventually."

You can't help but smile, relieved that he's letting it go. For now, at least. He leans back, but you can tell he's still curious.

Later that night, after you've left the house, Minho stands in front of the TV in the living room, his arms crossed and his expression stormy. The rest of the guys sit scattered around the room, exchanging wary glances, sensing that something is coming but unsure of exactly what.

Chan raises an eyebrow, glancing up from his phone. "Minho, what the hell is going on?"

Minho narrows his eyes, gaze sweeping over each of them. "One of you pricks has been getting cosy with my best friend," he declares, his voice low and accusatory. "Now, who is it?"

The room goes quiet. No one meets Minho's gaze, their expressions guilty yet carefully blank. It's a practised silence. Each of them knows, and each of them is determined not to be the first to break. Changbin keeps his eyes fixed on the coffee table, where he's trying very hard to look like he's deep in thought about absolutely anything other than you.

Minho's jaw tightens as he surveys them, frustration mounting. "Alright. Fine," he says, voice ominous. "If you're not gonna fess up, I'll start with the weak link."

He fixes his gaze on Jisung, who immediately starts squirming in his seat, looking anywhere but at Minho. "I swear to god, I will waterboard Jisung until he cracks under interrogation," Minho threatens, taking a menacing step toward him.

Jisung shifts uncomfortably, staring pointedly at the ceiling as if the very paint on it has suddenly become the most interesting thing in the world.

Minho raises his hands, planting them on his hips. "I'm serious," he growls, sweeping his gaze around the room. "One of you better start talking before I get creative."

The guys glance at each other, trying hard to stifle grins and desperately avoid eye contact. They all shift around on the couch, suddenly looking away from Minho, each whistling some off-tune melody to break the awkward silence, as though that'll somehow convince him they have nothing to do with it.

"I swear to god," Minho says, his voice rising. "If one of you doesn't open your mouth right now, you're all gonna regret it."

The tension builds until, finally, Jeongin shouts, "Scatter!"

In an instant, the room explodes into chaos. Every single one of them jumps up, bolting in different directions with shouts and frantic laughter.

Chan, Changbin, Jisung, Jeongin, and Hyunjin make a mad dash for the front door, their footsteps pounding as they push and shove each other to get there first. They stumble out of the house, Chan practically throwing himself into the driver's seat of his car while the others pile in after him, each scrambling over one another to squeeze inside.

"Lock it, lock it, lock it!" Jisung shouts breathlessly as he tumbles into the backseat.

Chan quickly locks the doors with a satisfying click just as Minho storms out onto the front porch, glaring at them from the steps, his expression somewhere between pissed off and mildly amused.

Meanwhile, back in the house, Felix and Seungmin take off toward the stairs. "Attic!" Felix hisses, motioning for Seungmin to follow him. They sprint up the steps, throwing themselves into the cramped attic and slamming the door behind them.

"Lock it, lock it!" Seungmin whispers frantically, turning the latch on the attic door as they collapse against it, panting and stifling laughter.

Down below, Minho stands at the foot of the stairs, hands on his hips, fuming as he realizes they've split up. He glares up at the attic and then back at the car in the driveway, his frustration mounting as he mutters to himself, "One of you will crack eventually. Mark my words."

Back in the car, Chan lets out a breath and leans his head back against the seat, a smirk tugging at his lips. "That was close."

Changbin huffs, still a bit rattled. "We're not out of the woods yet," he mutters, running a hand through his hair. "Minho's not the type to let this go."

Jisung, catching his breath in the back, snickers. "Yeah, but it was worth it. Did you see his face?"

The whole car erupts in laughter, each of them knowing that, for now at least, they've successfully dodged Minho's interrogation. At least until he catches one of them alone.

You're sitting cross-legged on Minho's bed, your head buried in a thick textbook, scanning pages on animal behaviour with a highlighter in hand. It's quiet, the kind of comfortable silence you're used to with Minho. He's sitting beside you, flipping through his own notes, occasionally muttering about an upcoming exam. Just as you start to get fully absorbed in the material, Minho's voice breaks the silence.

"You know, you always seem happier when you come back from the gym," he says, his tone light, but you don't miss the undertone of curiosity.

You hum noncommittally, not looking up from your book. It's a casual enough statement, and you're not about to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. But Minho isn't one to let things slide, and you can feel him watching you, assessing.

"Is that where you meet the guy from my frat?" he presses, trying to sound casual, though his words are loaded.

Your fingers tighten around the highlighter, but you stay quiet, hoping he'll just drop it. But Minho just smirks, clearly amused by your non-reaction.

"Okay, so that leaves me with a list," he continues, clearly enjoying himself. "Chan, Changbin, Jisung, Jeongin, and Felix. Hyunjin and Seungmin wouldn't touch a gym if you paid them, so they're out of the running." He ticks off names on his fingers like he's solving a mystery.

You try to ignore him, turning another page in your textbook and focusing on a diagram of canine body language. But you can feel his gaze boring into you, his smirk widening.

"Oh, I can narrow it down even further," he says, leaning in closer. "You only go to the gym on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so that rules out Jisung and Jeongin. That means it's Felix, Chan, or Changbin. And between you and me, Felix isn't really your type, so that leaves me with Chan or Changbin."

You try to keep a straight face, but his logic is annoyingly on point. Not that you'd ever tell him that. You stay focused on the page, pretending to be completely absorbed by a passage on social bonding in pack animals.

Minho chuckles, obviously delighted by your silence. "Hmm, now, here's where it gets interesting. Changbin always comes back from the gym in a strangely good mood on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Weird coincidence, don't you think? And then there's the fact that he's been obsessively listening to 'APT,' which, coincidentally, is your favourite song at the moment. But it could be Chan, of course. So, Y/N, which one are you crushing on? Chan or Changbin?"

You keep your face buried in your book, trying desperately to hold back the smile threatening to betray you. Minho leans even closer, his voice a mischievous whisper now. "I'll find out eventually, you know. I always do."

His confidence is enough to make you roll your eyes, but you still don't look up. "You know, you really shouldn't date either of them, if I'm being honest," he says, dropping the teasing tone for something more sincere. "They're both sluts. Complete man-whores."

You finally look up, raising an eyebrow at him. "Really? That's your advice?" 

Minho shrugs. "Just being honest. They're both great, don't get me wrong, but they're not exactly the dating type. Especially Chan. If you go for him, you'll have to deal with, well, a rotating cast of exes. And as for Changbin? I mean, he's a good guy, but he's a flirt. A gym rat with a string of admirers. Not exactly a safe bet."

You hesitate, looking down at the highlighter in your hand, twirling it between your fingers. "I'm not dating the gym guy."

Minho raises an eyebrow, catching the careful phrasing. "No, but you like him," he says, almost smugly, as if he's finally gotten the answer he was looking for.

You sigh, knowing that the longer you stay silent, the more Minho is going to milk this for all it's worth. But admitting to anything is the last thing you want to do. Especially with the way Minho's grin is widening by the second.

"Fine," he says, letting it go for now. "But just know, Y/N, I'm keeping an eye on whoever it is. Chan or Changbin. And if he so much as looks at you wrong, I'll make him regret it." He smirks, clearly amused by the situation, but you can see the protective glint in his eye.

"Got it," you mumble, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. You lean back into your book, your mind wandering for a second. And as Minho goes back to his notes, you can't help but wonder how long you'll actually be able to keep this little secret under wraps.

Changbin steps into the gym on Thursday evening, scanning the rows of machines and weights until his gaze lands on you, running at a steady pace on the treadmill in the cardio section. A small grin pulls at his lips as he watches you, earbuds in, completely focused. You look determined, moving with an easy rhythm that makes it look effortless. He lingers for a second, then heads over to set up at the bench press, feeling a slight flutter of anticipation—almost like he knows you'll come over when you're done.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, you hop off the treadmill, unclipping the emergency stop cord from your waistband before making your way over to him with that familiar shy smile.

"Need a spotter?" you ask, glancing at the weights he's loading onto the bar.

"Absolutely," he says, grinning up at you as he lies back on the bench, gripping the barbell above him. He's barely positioned himself when he smirks up at you. "By the way, Minho's on a mission to crack this case. He's convinced one of his frat brothers is getting close to his best friend. It's becoming a full-blown investigation."

You roll your eyes, giving a soft laugh as you lean over the bar, keeping your hands ready just in case. "Trust me, I know. He already tried to warn me off you and Chan. He's narrowed it down to just the two of you."

"Damn," Changbin mutters, chuckling as he lifts the bar. "So Minho hasn't scared you off your hot gym man yet?"

You shake your head, your smile turning shy again. "Nope. Not yet."

"Good," he says, lowering the bar with control before pushing it back up. "Because I've been wanting to take you on a date."

You feel a flutter of nerves but manage a small smile. "Uh, no restaurants or anything. I don't... really like busy, public places."

"That's cool," Changbin says without hesitation, a grin spreading across his face. "How about this: we order food and go for a drive?"

Your smile widens at the suggestion, the idea warming you immediately. "That sounds... really nice."

He pushes the bar back up, settling it on the rack with a clink, then sits up, grabbing his towel to wipe the sweat from his brow. "Good. We'll make it happen." He takes a sip from his water bottle, glancing at you playfully. "Maybe I could even finally meet Lady?"

Your cheeks heat up, and you look away, fiddling with your fingers. "Oh, meeting my dog? That sounds... serious," you tease, trying to play it cool even though your heart's pounding a little.

He laughs, a low, genuine sound, and you can't help but smile wider. "Alright, alright. Baby steps. Lady can wait for date two."

"Maybe date three," you joke, enjoying the ease of the banter with him.

Changbin chuckles, lying back down for another set. He glances up at you with a softer, more vulnerable expression. "You know, I've actually been trying to figure out how to ask you out for months."

You blink, surprised, feeling your cheeks grow warmer. "Yeah? Since when?"

"Since... probably the first time I saw you here," he admits, his gaze flicking up to meet yours with a bit of shyness you don't usually see from him. "You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen. Knocked my confidence a bit."

Your heart skips a beat, and you feel a mix of embarrassment and thrill at his words. "I'm not... I didn't think you'd ever think that."

"Well, now you know," he says, flashing you that familiar, disarming smile before focusing back on his reps. "So what do you say? Drive, food, and good music?"

You nod, unable to hide your smile. "I'd love that."

He gives you a wink before getting back to his set, the two of you basking in the excitement of a plan finally set in motion.

Your apartment is a flurry of activity as Felix, Jeongin, Hyunjin, and Jisung practically take over, each of them intent on making sure you look perfect for tonight. Jeongin is rifling through your closet, half your clothes already thrown onto the bed as he mutters to himself about finding "the perfect fucking outfit." Lady, your Cocker Spaniel, is lying contentedly between Jisung and Felix on your bed, soaking up all the attention and treats they're sneaking her.

Jisung raises an eyebrow, watching Jeongin toss yet another sweater onto the growing pile. "Still haven't told Minho, huh?"

You shake your head, sighing a little as you run a hand through your hair. "Seeing how he's reacted so far, I just... want to do this without him interfering. At least for now. I don't need the lecture or the intense 'best friend investigation.'"

Felix grins, nodding approvingly. "Good call. Besides, Chan and Seungmin took him out to get absolutely fucked up, so he'll be out of your hair for tonight. They said something about tequila and karaoke."

You laugh, imagining Minho stumbling back home later, too trashed to grill anyone. "Poor Chan and Seungmin."

Felix shrugs, chuckling. "They signed up for it. Consider it their contribution to the cause."

As the guys continue fussing, Felix leans over to scratch Lady behind the ears, his voice dropping into a softer, sweeter tone. "I see why you named her Lady," he says, glancing up at you with a smile. "She's the same breed as Lady in Lady and the Tramp, right?"

You nod, feeling a fond smile tug at your lips as you reach over to pet her. "Yeah, exactly. Plus, she's got that gentle, regal vibe. Like, she's clearly above all the chaos in this room right now," you joke, gesturing to the mess of clothes and accessories scattered around.

Lady huffs softly as if she's affirming your statement, and Felix laughs, leaning back with a satisfied smile. "She's a queen."

Meanwhile, Jeongin pulls a few more pieces from your closet, his expression lighting up as he finally settles on an outfit. "Here!" he says triumphantly, holding up a pair of black flared pants, black platform Converse, and a cropped turtleneck with dramatic flared sleeves. "Perfect for a drive and some low-key food. Stylish but chill."

Hyunjin claps his hands excitedly. "Dibs on hair," he declares, grinning like he's just won the lottery.

Felix nudges him, smirking. "Fine, but I get dibs on makeup. Minimal, natural. We're talking date vibes, not Instagram glam."

You chuckle, watching them with a mix of amusement and affection. "You guys... I really appreciate all this. But it's just a casual date. Nothing crazy."

Jisung snorts, rolling his eyes. "Please, this is Changbin. He's wanted to take you out for ages, and he's gonna be blown away when he sees you tonight. So let us work our magic, alright?"

You laugh softly, feeling warmth bloom in your chest. "Okay, fine. Do your worst."

Jeongin hands you the outfit, looking proud of his selection. "Get changed, then. We've got work to do."

When you emerge from your bathroom wearing the outfit Jeongin picked out, feeling a little more confident than you expected. The black flared pants hug you in all the right places and the cropped turtleneck balances elegance with a hint of edge. Your platform Converse add a bit of height, and there's something about the whole look that feels right. Casual but with a touch of excitement that matches the anticipation building in your chest.

Felix claps his hands, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Perfect. Alright, sit down. We're going to make sure you look flawless." He gestures to the chair they've set up near your vanity, and you sit down, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves.

Hyunjin swoops in behind you, running his hands through your hair with a thoughtful hum. "Hmm, I think we'll go for a half-up, half-down look. Classic, but a little more interesting," he says, his fingers moving with the skill of someone who's done this a thousand times. He carefully sections off the top half of your hair, pinning it up with a few twists, leaving the rest of it to fall softly around your shoulders. As he works, he's focused, his lips pursed in concentration.

Felix leans close to your face, examining your skin with the scrutiny of an artist approaching a blank canvas. "Okay, we're going for a natural look. Just enhancing what you've already got," he says, giving you a reassuring smile. He picks up a light concealer, dabbing it under your eyes and blending it seamlessly. The brush strokes are soft, calming, and he gives you a small wink when he notices you relaxing.

As Felix continues with a bit of mascara and a soft blush, Jisung and Jeongin sit cross-legged on the floor, fussing over Lady. Jisung's holding her favourite chew toy, trying to keep her entertained as she watches you with her big, soulful eyes, clearly curious about all the attention you're getting.

"Look at Lady," Jeongin says, scratching behind her ears. "She's probably thinking, 'Why are all the humans acting so crazy today?'"

Jisung laughs, holding up the toy for Lady to bite on, which she does with a gentle tug. "Maybe she's just hoping she gets some of whatever's going on here," he teases, giving her a playful look. "Or maybe she's planning to come along on the date."

Lady wags her tail, looking between you and the boys with an almost amused expression, and you can't help but laugh, the warmth in the room making you feel more relaxed. She's a calming presence as if she understands the whole ritual is in good fun.

Felix is putting the finishing touches on your makeup, brushing a hint of soft pink on your lips. "Alright, let's see," he says, stepping back to admire his work. "Natural, effortless, exactly what we wanted. You look amazing."

Hyunjin steps back too, hands on his hips as he surveys his work with a nod. "I'll give myself a pat on the back. You look beautiful."

You look in the mirror, feeling the smallest hint of disbelief. They've enhanced everything subtly, yet it makes a world of difference. Your hair falls perfectly, and the natural makeup makes your features pop without looking overdone. You barely recognize yourself.

"Thank you, guys," you say softly, smiling as you look at each of them. "I- I feel really good."

Felix grins, ruffling your shoulder playfully. "You should feel good. Changbin's gonna lose his shit."

Jisung raises a brow, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Oh, he's definitely gonna be speechless. Mark my words."

Jeongin leans over, giving Lady a final pat before looking up at you with an approving nod. "If he doesn't fall head over heels tonight, he's got worse judgment than we thought."

You laugh, rolling your eyes. "You guys are impossible. But, seriously, thanks. I don't think I'd have gotten ready like this on my own."

Felix gives you a wink, crossing his arms with a satisfied look. "That's what we're here for. Now, go knock him dead."

With their words of encouragement echoing in your mind, you take a deep breath, ready for whatever tonight holds.

As you step out of your apartment building, a flutter of excitement rushes through you, mingling with a touch of nerves. You know the guys are still inside, making themselves at home. You can already picture Jisung sprawled on the couch, remote in hand as he flips through your streaming services, Felix cosying up with Lady, Jeongin raiding your fridge, and Hyunjin probably giving commentary on whatever they decide to watch. They insisted on being both your support squad and your alibi for the night, reassuring you with winks and grins as they promised to cover for you if Minho came snooping.

Out on the curb, you spot Changbin leaning casually against his car, arms crossed and a soft, genuine smile lighting up his face when he sees you. He's dressed in a simple black hoodie and jeans, but something about the way he's looking at you makes you feel like you're the only person in the world.

"Wow," he says as you approach, his voice low and a little awestruck. "You look... incredible."

Your cheeks warm, and you duck your head, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Thanks. The guys insisted on a full makeover. I think they enjoyed it a little too much."

Changbin laughs, stepping forward to open the car door for you. "Lucky me. They did a damn good job."

You slide into the passenger seat, still feeling a little giddy. Once Changbin's settled in the driver's seat, he glances over, nodding toward the centre console. "Go ahead, Bluetooth your phone. This is your night, so you're in charge of the playlist." He grins, putting the car in drive. "We'll hit a drive-through and then just... drive. Sound good?"

You smile, nodding as you pull up your phone's settings and connect it to the car's Bluetooth. "Perfect."

With a soft hum of excitement, he eases the car onto the road, the city lights starting to blur by as you both relax into the quiet, electric atmosphere. You navigate through the playlist you'd been curating in secret, choosing songs that feel like a mix of your personalities—a little upbeat, a little nostalgic.

After a few minutes, you pull up to the drive-through. Changbin raises his eyebrow as he glances at you, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Order whatever you want. Tonight, calories don't count."

You laugh, throwing a playful look his way. "I'm holding you to that."

After placing your orders, you wait, the sound of gentle music filling the silence. You can feel Changbin stealing glances at you, and every time you meet his gaze, he flashes that easy, confident smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

Once you have your food, Changbin pulls into a quiet side street, far from the city's hustle. He reaches up and presses a button, and to your surprise, the roof of his car begins to retract. The night sky opens up above you, dotted with stars and framed by the gentle glow of city lights in the distance.

Changbin glances over, his eyes bright with excitement. "Now we're really set," he says, taking a sip of his drink. "You ready for this?"

You nod, grinning as you unclip your seatbelt. Just as "She's Not Afraid" by One Direction begins to play, you feel a surge of courage and stand up, leaning out of the open roof with your arms spread wide, feeling the cool night air brush against your face and through your hair. The wind whips around you, and you can't help but laugh, feeling freer than you have in a long time.

Changbin chuckles, reaching over with one hand to hold the waistband of your flares, steadying you as you stand. "Just making sure my favourite gym girl doesn't go flying out of the car," he says, his voice teasing but protective.

You throw your head back, letting the music and the wind fill every inch of your senses. The stars above seem closer, the city lights glowing faintly in the distance as Changbin drives at a slow, steady pace. It feels surreal like something out of a dream.

When the song ends, you finally sit back down, a wide smile on your face, feeling exhilarated. You glance at Changbin, who's watching you with that soft, admiring expression.

"Having fun?" he asks, his voice warm, with just a hint of amusement.

"More than I've had in a long time," you admit, feeling a thrill in saying it aloud.

He nods, reaching over to give your hand a gentle squeeze. "Good. That's all I wanted for tonight."

Later that night, Changbin pulls up to your apartment building, the car idling quietly as the music fades into the background. The street is nearly silent, the glow from a nearby streetlamp casting a soft light over the car's interior. You turn to him, feeling a lingering thrill from the night. The open sky, the music, the easy laughter. He's watching you with that soft, warm smile that has become all too familiar, his eyes glinting with a mix of mischief and something tender.

There's a moment of silence, both of you lingering in the atmosphere, unwilling to break it. Slowly, Changbin leans across the console, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. You close the distance, meeting him halfway as your lips brush softly against his, a gentle, lingering kiss that feels warm and right. It's a light kiss, sweet and filled with unspoken promises. You can feel the faint smile on his lips, and it makes your heart pound even faster.

Pulling back, you meet his gaze, still smiling. "Good night, Changbin," you whisper, your voice barely above a murmur.

He grins, his eyes shining as he leans back in his seat. "Good night. Sweet dreams."

With a shy smile, you slip out of the car and head into your building, feeling his gaze follow you until you're inside. Your heart is still racing as you climb the stairs, the memory of his kiss lingering, the warmth of the moment wrapping around you.

When you open the door to your apartment, you're greeted by the chaotic scene of Jisung, Jeongin, Hyunjin, and Felix sprawled out on the floor, half-buried in blankets, tugging on one of Lady's toys while she barks playfully, her tail wagging wildly.

Felix is the first to notice you, his eyes lighting up as he scrambles up. "Well?!" he demands, a grin spreading across his face as the other three turn to look at you with eager anticipation.

You feel your cheeks flush, but you can't help the smile that breaks out on your face. "We were driving down this quiet road," you begin, sinking onto the couch as they all gather around, listening intently. "He lowered the roof, and I stood up, just felt the wind and the stars. I felt so free."

Felix sighs, his eyes softening. "That sounds magical. But, most importantly," he says with a mischievous smirk, "how hot did Changbin look?"

You laugh, covering your face for a second before letting out a quiet, "Too hot. And those muscles? Way too muscly for his own good."

Hyunjin sighs dramatically, nodding in agreement. "Amen. If he was gay or bi, I'd be licking those biceps without a second thought."

Jisung snorts, rolling his eyes. "Don't be a bitch, Hyunjin—bite them like a damn apple."

Hyunjin bursts into laughter, smacking Jisung on the shoulder. "God, you're right. Can't waste a moment being subtle about it."

Jeongin, looking both amused and sceptical, crosses his arms. "So, it was good then? Like, he was the real deal?"

You nod, a little smile playing on your lips. "Yeah. It was perfect. I mean, he's got that tough guy look, but he's surprisingly gentle. Like, he's a real gentleman. It's kind of weird, in the best way."

Jeongin's eyes widen, and he exchanges a look with Felix. "Changbin? A gentleman?" he says, the disbelief clear in his voice.

"Right?" Felix laughs, but his expression softens as he looks at you. "I guess there's a lot we don't see. Sounds like he's got a soft spot for you."

You nod slowly, your heart still fluttering from the memory of the night. "Maybe."

Hyunjin grins, settling back into his spot on the floor with a sigh. "Well, that settles it. Changbin's a romantic, confirmed."

Jisung flops beside him, giving you a wink. "Better hold onto that one. Sounds like you got a good thing going."

A few days after your date with Changbin, you find yourself once again in the Alpha Phi frat house, tucked away in Minho's room with a pile of textbooks and notes scattered across the bed. The familiar routine of studying together has a comforting rhythm, and for the first hour or so, it's just you and Minho working quietly, the occasional soft murmur as he explains something or you ask a quick question.

But Minho, as you've learned, has a way of bringing up things when you least expect it.

"So," he says casually, flipping through his notes, "this really funny thing happened when I was out drinking with Chan and Seungmin a few days ago."

You hum noncommittally, half-focused on a chapter about behavioral triggers in dogs. But his tone has that teasing edge that makes you brace yourself.

Minho continues, barely glancing up from his notes, though you catch the smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I was a little tipsy, feeling sentimental, so I walked over to your apartment afterward to check in. And lo and behold—Changbin's car was parked outside. And there you were, in the car with him. Then, you two kissed."

You freeze, eyes glued to your textbook even though you're no longer reading the words. A nervous flutter rises in your chest, but you keep your focus on the page, determined not to give anything away.

"Oh, so we're going with the silent treatment?" Minho says, leaning closer with a raised eyebrow. "Look, I don't want to be the one to burst your bubble, but he's not going to be good to you, Y/N. You know that, right?"

You finally glance up, meeting his gaze. "He's... he's really nice, Min," you say softly, still feeling a bit shy admitting it aloud.

Minho sighs, shaking his head with a touch of frustration. "Nice? Sure, he might act nice. But I know this guy, okay? Changbin doesn't do relationships, and he sure as hell doesn't do loyalty. All he'll do is cause you stress, and that's the last thing you need."

He watches you carefully, his tone softening slightly. "I'm just looking out for you. This nice guy act? I've seen it a thousand times before, and it always goes the same way."

"Really?" you ask, hesitating but unable to keep a hint of doubt out of your voice. Changbin's kindness had felt genuine, his easy laughter and warmth something you hadn't expected to find with him.

Minho nods, his gaze steady. "Yes, really. You trust me, right?"

You nod slowly, even as a part of you aches at the thought of doubting Changbin. "I do," you murmur.

Minho's expression softens as he reaches out, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Then trust me when I say Changbin is not good for you. He might be fun and charming, but he's a distraction at best. And the last thing you need is more stress in your life."

You sit in silence for a moment, turning his words over in your head before glancing back at him. "Can you trust me, though? That I know what I'm doing?"

Minho pauses, his jaw working as he considers this, a mixture of exasperation and resignation in his expression. Finally, he sighs, though there's a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. "Fine. But if he hurts you, I swear to god, I'm taking his kneecaps, toes, fingers, hell, I'll take his dick and balls too. All of it. Gone. He won't know what hit him."

A giggle slips out, and you try to stifle it, pressing your hand over your mouth as you look at him. "You're ridiculous."

"I'm serious," Minho insists, his expression deadpan. "I'll do it. Now come on"

Minho practically drags you down the stairs, his grip firm but playful as he leads you into the living room where the rest of the guys are lounging. You can feel a mix of anticipation and dread bubbling up; it's rare to see Minho this fired up, and knowing him, he's going to make this as dramatic as possible.

The moment you step into the room, everyone looks up, curiosity sparking in their eyes. Changbin straightens a little from his spot on the couch, already sensing that Minho's about to make some kind of proclamation.

Minho clears his throat, crossing his arms as he addresses the room, but mostly Changbin. "Changbin, I'm here to say that you have my temporary blessing to date my little introvert here." He gives you a quick, affectionate look, then narrows his eyes back at Changbin. "However, I now have a very long list of threats specifically tailored for you."

The room erupts in laughter, and Jisung pats the space between himself and Felix, waving you over. You slip between them, both of them immediately wrapping their arms around you, pulling you into a cozy hug. Jisung's head rests against yours as he whispers, "This is gonna be good," a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Minho doesn't waste any time. He turns back to Changbin, holding up a finger. "Threat number one: if you so much as make her feel a single moment of unnecessary stress, I'll personally re-rack every single one of your weights out of order. Every. Single. Time. You'll never have another peaceful lift again."

Changbin chuckles, nodding along, but you can see the slight alarm in his eyes. Minho's already warmed up.

"Threat number two," Minho continues, stepping closer with an exaggeratedly serious expression. "If you ever, ever forget one of her favourite songs or mess up a music recommendation, well, let's just say I'll swap out your protein powder with powdered laxatives. Enjoy leg day with that little surprise."

The guys burst into laughter, and Jisung squeezes you tighter, practically cackling as he leans into you. "Minho is a fucking menace," he mutters between laughs, wiping a tear from his eye.

Minho ignores the laughter, his gaze locked on Changbin as he continues, "Threat number three: if you make her cry, I'll dig up all your gym playlists and replace them with the entire soundtrack of High School Musical. And it'll be on repeat."

Changbin's face goes pale, and he shakes his head in mock horror. "Minho, you're a monster."

Minho grins. "You haven't seen anything yet. Threat number four: if you ever forget to bring her snacks, or God forbid, you bring her snacks she doesn't like, I'll switch every one of your pre-workouts with decaf. All gains? Gone."

Felix snickers beside you, covering his mouth with his hand. "That's brutal," he whispers, barely holding back his laughter.

"And that's not all," Minho says, holding up his hand to silence the murmurs of laughter around the room. "Threat number five: if you don't treat her with respect every single damn day, I'm not just taking kneecaps. I'll personally put laxatives in your protein powder until you shit out your intestines"

At this, even Changbin laughs, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, Minho. I get it. Message received."

But Minho's on a roll, and there's no stopping him now. "If you ever make her feel uncomfortable, I'll write 'I love cardio' on every single one of your lifting shirts in permanent marker."

Jeongin gasps in mock horror, clutching his chest. "The ultimate betrayal"

Minho keeps his gaze on Changbin, crossing his arms. "And let me make myself perfectly clear, if you hurt her, I'm not just talking about kneecaps. I'll take your fingers, and your dick and balls. All of it. Gone. One wrong move, and you'll be hobbling around like an anatomy lesson gone wrong. I swear to god."

The room bursts into laughter, Jisung squeezing you tighter as he snickers into your shoulder, and Felix shakes his head, grinning ear to ear.

Changbin raises his hands, looking mildly exasperated but also amused. "Sooo... can I kiss her now?" he asks, looking at Minho with a raised brow.

Minho's face twists in outrage. "That's all you're thinking about?! I just threatened to take your balls!"

Changbin waves a hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. Kneecaps, fingers, balls, trust me, it's all noted. Can I kiss her now? Because, to be honest, Minho, I need you to shut the fuck up for two seconds so I can actually kiss my girl."

Everyone's laughter dies down, and they watch with rapt attention as Changbin takes a step closer to you, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips. He glances at Minho, who's grumbling under his breath, rolling his eyes before turning to sit dramatically on the armrest of the couch, as if he's exhausted from the whole ordeal.

Changbin leans down, hands resting on the back of the couch as he looks at you with that familiar, warm gaze. "Come here, you," he murmurs, his voice soft but with a hint of playfulness.

You feel your cheeks heat up, but you can't help smiling as you lean up to meet him. His lips brush against yours, a gentle, sweet kiss that deepens just enough to make your heart race. It's soft but electrifying, and for a moment, the whole room seems to disappear, leaving just the two of you. The kiss feels right, like a promise, and you barely notice the excited murmurs and chuckles from your friends, until, of course, Minho breaks the moment.

"Oh, fuck me," Minho groans dramatically, gagging loudly and turning his head away, making exaggerated retching sounds. "I'm actually gonna throw up."

Jisung and Felix collapse into fits of laughter, Felix clapping his hands together as he shakes with silent laughter. Hyunjin and Jeongin are practically rolling on the floor, clutching their stomachs as Minho continues to dry heave.

You pull back from the kiss, laughter bubbling up in your chest. And maybe it's the confidence Changbin gives you or just the vibe of the moment, but without even thinking, you grin mischievously and say, "Just wait until we have sex in the house."

The room falls silent for a moment as everyone stares at you, eyes wide in shock that you, of all people, would say something like that. Then, in unison, Chan, Changbin, Hyunjin, Jisung, Felix, Jeongin, and Seungmin erupt into cheers and applause, hooting and hollering as if you've just announced the winning goal in a championship game.

"Y/N!" Felix practically shrieks, laughing so hard he's wiping tears from his eyes. "I did not know you had that in you!"

Hyunjin slaps the arm of the couch, gasping through laughter. " Changbin, she's keeping you on your toes!"

Meanwhile, Minho has his head buried in his hands, shaking his head with a pained expression. "I don't need to hear this! My poor innocent friend. Corrupted by this muscle-headed bastard!" He mock-dry heaves again, to everyone's endless amusement.

Jisung can barely keep himself upright as he laughs, leaning heavily on you. "Oh my god, Minho, are you going to survive this?"

Minho peeks over at you with a look of pure exasperation, though there's an unmistakable glint of pride mixed with his irritation. "I swear, if I hear one noise, one single suspicious sound, I'm taking every pillow, every blanket, and every goddamn piece of furniture out of this house."

Changbin just smirks, wrapping an arm around you as he pulls you closer. "Duly noted, Minho," he says, winking at him. "Guess we'll just have to keep things quiet."

Minho groans, covering his ears as everyone bursts into laughter again, the living room filled with a mix of teasing, cheers, and the undeniable sense that, despite Minho's threats, this might just be the start of something truly amazing.

[omgsquee2001]

Real Victors: B.C Bang Chan x fem!reader (College AU)

WC: 13.3K

CW: Mentions of previous toxic behaviour (from an ex best friend), past abusive behaviour (from an ex best friend), assault (a wrist grab) (from an ex best friend), lots of fluff, awkward, simp Chan

General Masterlist SKZ Masterlist

It's one of those perfect summer days—the kind where the sun sits just right in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over everything. You're perched on the bottom of the bleachers like usual, legs crossed beneath you as you lean against the cool metal railing. Your white summer dress flutters slightly in the breeze, barely reaching mid-thigh. It's airy, comfortable, and pairs well with the hotpants you've slipped on underneath for modesty. You've opted for a casual look today, strappy white wedges on your feet and your signature dangly butterfly earrings swaying gently as you suck on a cherry lollipop.

The cherry flavour stains your lips red as you absentmindedly flip through one of your favourite books, The Book Thief. It's your go-to read when you want to escape into a story that makes you feel a little bit of everything—sadness, hope, love, and pain. You've read it a dozen times by now, but somehow, every time you open its pages, it feels like the first time. Right now, you're lost in the words, only half aware of the distant sounds of shouting and whistles from the football field.

The Miroh Maniacs are practicing again. They always practice during this time of the day, and like clockwork, you've found yourself in your usual spot at the bottom of the bleachers, soaking up the atmosphere while the guys run their drills. It's not that you care much for football itself; honestly, you couldn't be bothered to figure out the rules. But Felix and Jisung are your closest friends, and since they're on the team, you come to watch them as much as you come to enjoy the time you spend alone with your books.

Felix and Jisung are currently stretching near the field, warming up before practice. Jisung's blonde-green hair is tousled from his constant fidgeting, while Felix's sunny smile never falters, even when he's doing something as mundane as touching his toes. You watch them from the corner of your eye, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

"You gonna sit there all day, Y/N?" Felix calls out, his Australian accent laced with mischief. He stands up from his stretch and gives you a wave, his blonde hair catching the sunlight. Jisung follows his gaze and waves too, though his expression is far more playful.

"Just keeping an eye on you two," you tease back, lowering your book slightly. "Wouldn't want you both slacking off while everyone else is running laps."

"Slacking off?" Jisung exclaims, feigning offence. "I'll have you know, I'm the most hardworking player on this field."

Felix snorts and elbows him. "Bullshit. You nap on the bench more than you run."

Jisung shrugs. "Gotta preserve my energy for when it counts."

You chuckle softly and shake your head, returning to your book as they continue their playful bickering. It's a routine by now—Felix and Jisung always find a way to chat with you before practice, and it's become one of the highlights of your day. They bring a sort of lightheartedness that makes everything feel a little less serious, a little more fun.

As you flip another page, you hear the sound of the locker room door swinging open. From your vantage point, you catch a glimpse of Chan, Minho, and Changbin walking out onto the field. They're all decked out in the Miroh Maniacs' black and red uniforms, the bold colours contrasting sharply against the green grass. Chan is at the front, as usual, his short black hair slicked back slightly, though a few strands always fall loose onto his forehead.

But there's something else about him that you can't quite put your finger on. Maybe it's the way he carries himself, or the way he looks at you sometimes when he thinks you're not paying attention. You don't dwell on it too much; it's just part of the strange dynamic between you and the guys on the team.

You lift your hand and wiggle your fingers in greeting as they walk out, your lips curving into a small, lazy smile. "Hey, boys."

Chan's eyes lock onto you the moment you gesture. His easygoing stride falters for just a second, and he sucks in a sharp breath, his cheeks flushing slightly as he tries to keep his composure. You catch it all in your peripheral vision, but you don't comment, assuming it's just Chan being his usual awkward self. That is until he starts coughing like he's choking on air.

Minho, who's walking beside him, doesn't even try to hide his amusement. He slaps Chan's back a few times, shaking his head with a sigh. "Chan, for fuck's sake, you're an embarrassment to us all."

Changbin snickers beside them, crossing his arms over his chest. "Man, get a grip. You're gonna die before practice even starts."

Chan glances at you briefly, his face turning redder by the second. You frown in concern, your body instinctively pushing off the railing as you stand and walk over to where the three of them are standing. The grass feels warm beneath your feet, and you lean slightly against the fence that separates the bleachers from the field, looking down at Chan with a furrowed brow.

"Chan, are you okay?" you ask, your voice soft but filled with genuine worry. You tilt your head, red heart-shaped sunglasses slipping down your nose a little as you peer at him.

Chan, still struggling to get his breathing under control, just stares at you. The sight of you standing there, your white dress fluttering in the breeze, your lips forming his name, has completely short-circuited his brain.

You turn to Changbin, hoping for some clarification. "Is he...?"

Changbin smirks, glancing at Chan before turning back to you. "Oh, he's fine. Just hasn't been drinking enough water, so his brain's a bit fried."

You sigh and cross your arms over your chest. "Chan, you know you should drink more water, right? It's like, basic human survival."

Chan finally manages to nod, though his gaze still lingers on you. "Yeah, um, I'll—I'll do that."

"Good." You give him a small, approving smile before turning back toward Felix and Jisung, who have been watching the whole scene unfold with barely contained laughter.

Minho raises an eyebrow as he watches Chan's stunned reaction. "I swear to God, Chan, if you swoon because the pretty lit student smiled at you, I'm going to kill you."

Chan shoots him a half-hearted glare, still struggling to shake off the embarrassment. "Shut up, Minho."

You catch the tail end of their conversation but decide not to press further. It's Minho being Minho, and he's always teasing someone. With a final glance at the trio, you settle back down at the bleachers, picking up your book where you left off.

As you start reading again, Felix and Jisung jog over during their warm-up break and flop down next to you, both of them drenched in the early sweat of exertion.

"Still reading that same damn book, huh?" Jisung asks, reaching for your lollipop without warning. You smack his hand away with a mock glare.

"Hands off my lollipop, Ji. And yes, The Book Thief is a masterpiece. Don't act like you're not impressed."

Felix leans back, resting his hands behind his head as he watches the players on the field. "I swear, Y/N, you've read that book more times than I've touched a football."

You grin, turning the page lazily. "It's that good."

"Or you just don't wanna admit you're obsessed," Felix teases, nudging your arm lightly.

"I'll admit it. I'm obsessed. But it's a healthy obsession. Unlike whatever it is you two are doing out there with all this... football stuff." You wave a hand vaguely toward the field.

Jisung snorts. "Hey, this 'football stuff' is keeping me in shape, okay? Not all of us can sit on our asses reading books all day."

You raise an eyebrow. "You call lying on the bench napping 'keeping in shape'?"

Felix bursts out laughing, and Jisung pouts, crossing his arms. "I don't nap that much."

"You literally napped for the entire second half of last week's game," Felix points out, still chuckling.

Jisung waves him off. "Whatever. I'm just preserving my energy."

"You keep telling yourself that," you say with a smirk, returning your attention to your book. But the conversation doesn't end there, and the three of you fall into an easy rhythm, bantering back and forth like always.

Meanwhile, on the field, Chan can't seem to keep his eyes off you. It's like every time he tries to focus on the drills, his gaze drifts back to where you're sitting with Felix and Jisung, your head tilted slightly as you laugh at something one of them said. He doesn't even realize how obvious he's being until Minho elbows him in the ribs during a pass.

"Dude, pay attention," Minho mutters under his breath. "You're gonna get tackled if you keep staring like that."

Chan quickly averts his eyes, pretending to be interested in whatever play they're running next. "I wasn't staring."

"Bullshit," Minho snorts, adjusting his jersey. "You've been eye-fucking her for the past ten minutes. Everyone on the field can see it."

Chan shoots him a withering look. "Can you not?"

Changbin sidles up next to them, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Oh, get in line, Chan. Half the college is after her. She's the definition of hot girl summer."

Chan tries to play it cool, shrugging as if the comment doesn't bother him. "I'm not... I mean, it's not like that."

Minho rolls his eyes, clearly unconvinced. "Right. And I'm not the best player on the team."

Changbin snickers. "You wish."

Despite his teammates' teasing, Chan can't help but steal another glance at you. The way your dress hugs your body, the way your hair catches in the wind, and the way you smile at Felix and Jisung so effortlessly makes his chest tighten. But he knows better than to entertain any fantasies. You're friends with most of the guys, and even if you were interested in someone, it probably wouldn't be him. Not when you're already so close to Felix and Jisung.

Still, he can't shake the feeling that there's something special about you. Something that makes his heart race a little faster every time you're around.

Later, during one of their short breaks, Minho makes his way over to you, dripping sweat and looking every bit as smug as he always does. You barely notice him at first, too engrossed in your book, but then you feel the familiar tug of something being pulled from your mouth.

"Hey!" you protest, looking up just in time to see Minho steal the lollipop from between your lips. He smirks at you, twirling it between his fingers before popping it into his mouth without a second thought.

You roll your eyes, completely unbothered by the gesture. "That's the closest you'll ever get to kissing me, Lee Minho."

Minho laughs and pulls the lollipop back out, licking his lips exaggeratedly. "I'll savour all of those kisses forever, my sweet Y/N."

You snort and wave him off. "Okay, loverboy, get lost. You stink of sweat."

Minho leans closer, grinning wickedly. "And you smell like cherries and flowers."

You shrug nonchalantly. "Bought myself a new perfume."

His grin widens. "That perfume is turning me on."

You meet his gaze with a deadpan expression. "Yeah, well, your smell is turning me off. Not that you've ever turned me on."

Minho clutches his chest dramatically as if you've wounded him. "Ouch. Straight to the heart."

Despite his theatrics, you smile fondly and nudge him with your foot. "Go practice, Minho. You're wasting time."

"Fine, fine." He sticks the lollipop back in your mouth before jogging off with a cheeky wave. "I'll be thinking of you."

You roll your eyes again, sucking on the now half-melted candy. It's always like this with Minho, flirty, playful, but ultimately harmless. Everyone on the team knows it's all platonic between the two of you. You'd never date Minho, and he knows it, which makes the banter even more fun.

Felix and Jisung, having witnessed the whole exchange, burst into laughter as soon as Minho is out of earshot.

"You two are so weird," Felix comments, shaking his head.

Jisung grins. "Yeah, but it's entertaining as hell."

You shrug, leaning back against the bleachers with a satisfied smile. "He's just jealous because I'm too good for him."

Felix laughs, pulling a water bottle from his bag. "If you say so."

Jisung nudges you with his elbow, a wide grin spread across his face. "You and Minho really have the weirdest relationship. I swear he flirts with you more than anyone else, and it's completely pointless."

You shrug, leaning back against the bleachers, still sucking on the lollipop Minho had placed back into your mouth. "He's just mad because he knows he doesn't stand a chance. That, and he's jealous that I'm smarter than him."

Felix raises an eyebrow, his lips curling up in a smirk. "Smarter? Or more stubborn?"

"Both," you reply with a wink before settling into your book once again.

Before the conversation can go any further, Chan's voice cuts through the air, calling the team back to the field. "Alright, break's over! Get your asses moving!"

The guys all groan in unison, but they comply, hauling themselves off the bleachers and jogging back toward the centre of the field. You watch them go, the familiar sounds of shuffling cleats and shouted encouragements filling the air. You prop your feet up on the lower seat in front of you, feeling the metal beneath your heels as you let yourself sink into the world of The Book Thief once again.

The field is loud with the sounds of practice—shouted commands, whistles, and the occasional thud of bodies colliding as they run drills. But none of it distracts you as you turn the page, eyes skimming over familiar words. Your world narrows down to the story in front of you, the heat of the summer sun on your skin, and the rhythmic thump of footballs in the background.

Still, even through the haze of the book, you can feel someone's eyes on you. You glance up from the pages every now and then, catching glimpses of Chan sneaking looks your way between plays. It's subtle, the way his eyes flicker to the bleachers when he thinks no one's watching. But it's not subtle enough to escape your notice. You don't say anything about it, though. It's just Chan being Chan—awkward but sweet, always looking out for you in his quiet way.

You shift in your seat, adjusting the heart-shaped sunglasses on your nose as you get lost in the story again, completely unaware of the tension building on the field.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you notice someone approaching the bleachers. At first, you don't think much of it, assuming it's just another student passing by. But when the figure gets closer, you recognize him immediately, and your stomach twists.

Aaron.

The sight of him makes your blood run cold, and a wave of anger surges through you before you even realize what's happening. He doesn't have the right to be here—not after everything. Not after the way he treated you. Your ex-best friend, now a ghost from your past, a haunting presence you've been trying to shake off for months. And here he is, showing up uninvited, acting like nothing has changed.

You slam the book shut, the sound of it snapping closed louder than you intended. Aaron's eyes lock onto you as he climbs the bleachers, his lips curling into a smirk that makes your skin crawl.

"Y/N," he says, his voice dripping with fake charm. "It's been a while."

Your jaw clenches, fingers tightening around the book in your lap. "What the hell are you doing here, Aaron?"

He shrugs casually as if he has every right to be standing in front of you. "Just thought I'd stop by and say hi. You haven't been answering my messages."

"That's because I don't want to talk to you," you snap, rising to your feet, your heart pounding in your chest. "We have nothing to say to each other."

He steps closer, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Don't be like that. We used to be friends."

"Used to be," you emphasize, your voice cold. "That's the key phrase here. We're not friends anymore."

Across the field, Chan notices the tension between you and the guy on the bleachers. He's too far to hear what's being said, but he can tell from your body language that something's off. His brow furrows as he watches you stand up, arms crossed over your chest, facing the guy with obvious hostility.

"Who's that?" Minho asks, following Chan's gaze.

Chan shakes his head slightly. "I don't know... but it doesn't look good."

The rest of the team starts noticing too, their attention momentarily diverted from practice as they watch you argue with the guy on the bleachers. From their distance, they can't hear anything, but they don't need to. Your posture says it all—tense, defensive, and angry.

Then, suddenly, Aaron grabs your wrist.

The entire team freezes, watching in shock as you yank your hand away from his grasp with a furious glare. Before anyone can react, you swing your book, hitting him across the face with a loud crack. The force of it sends him stumbling back a step, and you see the anger flare in his eyes.

Changbin whistles lowly, muttering under his breath, "Who the fuck is that?"

Felix's face tightens with worry, his jaw clenched as he exchanges a glance with Jisung. "That's Aaron... her ex-best friend."

Jisung's face twists in disgust. "He's a fucking asshole. Should've been put down ages ago."

Minho turns to Felix and Jisung, his eyes narrowing. "What the hell's his deal?"

Felix exhales sharply, scratching the back of his neck. "Best friend turned stalker. He's lucky we didn't kill him."

The rest of the guys look at Felix in surprise, and Changbin raises an eyebrow. "Wait, what? You never said anything."

Felix looks at the ground, his voice quiet but firm. "It wasn't our place to say anything. She went through some serious shit, and we were just there to help."

Jisung nods, his expression dark. "One night, she called me. Locked herself in the bathroom. I could hear him threatening her, saying he was gonna kill her. When Felix and I got to her apartment, he was trying to kick down the door... with a knife in hand."

The silence that follows is heavy, and the rest of the guys exchange looks of disbelief.

Felix glances up, his face set in a grim expression. "Twelve years of Taekwondo came in pretty handy that day."

Minho's eyes darken with understanding, and he clenches his fists, looking back at you on the bleachers. "So this guy's a fucking psycho?"

Felix nods. "Pretty much."

The team watches closely as the confrontation between you and Aaron escalates. You can't hear what he's saying, but from the way his lips are moving, it's obvious he's trying to provoke you. The tension in the air is palpable as the guy steps forward again, getting in your face.

Then, in one swift motion, you punch him square in the nose.

The satisfying sound of bone crunching fills the air as Aaron stumbles back, clutching his bleeding nose in shock. The team collectively holds their breath for a second before Changbin breaks the silence with a loud whoop.

"Beat his ass, Y/N!" Changbin yells, pumping his fist in the air.

Jeongin joins in, laughing as he cups his hands around his mouth. "Hit him with the book again!"

Seungmin, usually the most reserved, can't help but shout, "Kick him in the balls!"

Hyunjin, ever the drama queen, throws his hands up. "Make his face even uglier!"

You don't need their encouragement. You're already seething with rage, your hand still stinging from the punch as you glare down at Aaron, who's now crouched slightly, blood dripping from his nose.

But then Minho narrows his eyes, his gaze fixed on Aaron's movements. He leans closer to Chan and mutters quietly, "He's not backing down."

Chan's jaw tightens, his eyes locked on you and the way Aaron seems to be moving closer again despite the blood and the pain. "You think he's gonna hurt her? Here?"

Minho nods, his expression hard. "He looks like he's about to do something stupid."

Without another word, Chan signals to the rest of the team, and they all start moving toward the bleachers. The air feels heavy with anticipation, every step bringing them closer as the situation becomes more dangerous by the second.

Aaron, oblivious to the approaching football players, raises his hand as if to strike you. But before he can make contact, a strong hand grabs his wrist mid-air, twisting it behind his back with practised ease.

Aaron yelps in pain, his face contorting as Chan steps in front of him, a grin tugging at his lips. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

You blink, surprised but also oddly relieved as Chan appears out of nowhere, his grip on Aaron's wrist firm. The football team gathers around, forming an intimidating circle around Aaron, their faces set in stone. You slide your sunglasses down your nose, making eye contact with Chan, who still has that cocky grin on his face.

"Thanks," you say, breathless but composed. "Never thought I'd need a sweaty hero in cleats and shoulder pads, but... it's not all bad."

Chan chuckles, his eyes glinting with amusement. "How about you let me take you to dinner tonight?"

You raise an eyebrow, glancing at Aaron, who's still squirming in Chan's grip. "As you can see, I have a bit of... baggage."

Chan shrugs nonchalantly, twisting Aaron's arm a little more until he yelps again. "As you can see, I can handle baggage." He releases Aaron with a swift shove, then kicks him lightly in the ass, sending him stumbling forward.

Aaron, humiliated and defeated, glares at you before storming off, blood still dripping from his nose. You watch him go, a mix of relief and adrenaline pumping through your veins.

Once he's out of sight, you turn back to Chan, a playful smirk on your lips. "In that case... dinner sounds great."

Chan grins at you, his eyes still gleaming with amusement from the adrenaline of the situation. "Practice is over in ten. I'll shower and then we can go out for dinner."

You cross your arms, a playful smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "You better not smell of sweat or this whole thing is cancelled."

He chuckles, running a hand through his sweaty hair. "I'll smell as fresh as a daisy, I swear."

You point at him, your expression dead serious despite the humour in your tone. "Your body wash better not be tea tree. That shit is fucking gross."

Chan laughs, a deep, carefree sound that makes your stomach flutter for reasons you don't want to admit to yourself just yet. "Noted. No tea tree. I'll pick something extra nice just for you."

"Good," you say, giving him a mock stern look before smiling. "I'll be waiting."

He jogs back onto the field, shouting commands to his team while you settle back into the bleachers, watching as they finish their drills. The tension of your confrontation with Aaron still lingers in your muscles, but the promise of dinner with Chan is enough to pull you out of that dark cloud. It's been a long time since you've felt excited about something like this.

True to his word, Chan wraps up practice in ten minutes, blowing the whistle to signal the end. The team groans, some stretching, others jogging in place, but they seem relieved. You spot Felix and Jisung laughing about something, both of them glancing over at you as Chan disappears into the locker room.

A few minutes later, Chan emerges, his wet hair slicked back, freshly showered and dressed in black cargo trousers and a black long-sleeved compression top that clings to his chest and arms in a way that doesn't go unnoticed. He glances around, scanning the field before his eyes land on you, sitting on the bleachers with your legs crossed, still sucking on what's left of the cherry lollipop from earlier.

Before he can say anything, Jisung shouts from the field, "Have her home by ten, Bang Chan!"

Felix jumps in, smirking as he cups his hands around his mouth. "Bring her back to the frat with you later because we're gonna gossip!"

Chan raises an eyebrow and shakes his head, walking toward you. "I will bring her back after the date," he says, loud enough for them to hear.

But Jisung, ever the loudmouth, shouts back, "Ten! Do you hear me? Ten, Bang Chan! I expect her delivered to Felix's room with a smile on her face!"

You roll your eyes and let out an exasperated laugh. "They're such children."

Chan reaches you, his lips curling into a smirk. "Ignore them. They're just jealous."

Chan wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side as you both start walking toward the parking lot. His arm is warm and solid, and you lean into him, feeling a sense of comfort that you didn't expect. It's odd how natural it feels like this has been something building between the two of you for longer than either of you realized.

"So," Chan starts, his voice casual but curious, "you've been reading The Book Thief for what feels like the thousandth time. I think I've seen you with that book more than I've seen you without it."

You can't help but laugh at his observation. "It's literally my favourite book ever. And trust me, that's saying something. My apartment is basically a library. I have bookshelves in my living room that go wall to wall."

Chan's eyebrows raise in surprise, and he gives you a sideways glance. "Wall to wall bookshelves? Damn. I think the only books I've read are Harry Potter and The Hunger Games."

You gasp dramatically, pressing a hand to your chest in mock offence. "I can't believe you just confessed that to a literature major. It's like you've committed a cardinal sin."

He chuckles, shrugging as if it's no big deal, but the grin on his face shows that he's enjoying this little back-and-forth. "I mean, it's true! I've never been much of a reader, but I guess you could always try and convert me."

You roll your eyes, still smiling. "Maybe I will. But it's gonna take more than just Harry Potter and The Hunger Games to impress me."

"I'll take that as a challenge," he says with a wink, his arm squeezing your shoulder slightly as you both approach his car. Chan walks ahead a few steps and opens the passenger door for you, his grin widening when he sees the surprise on your face.

"Wow, a gentleman," you tease, sliding into the passenger seat. The car is nice—clean, with that subtle scent of vanilla air freshener lingering in the air.

Chan moves around to the driver's side, sliding into the seat next to you and starting the engine. "Well, I had to impress you somehow. Thought opening doors was a good start."

"Points for effort," you say, settling back into the seat and clicking your seatbelt into place. "So, where are we going, Captain?"

"There's this fifties-style diner about half an hour away," he explains as he pulls out of the parking lot. "They do this amazing cherry and white chocolate shake. It's kinda their speciality."

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "You really know how to win a girl's heart, don't you?"

He glances over at you briefly, grinning. "I try."

The drive is easy, the sky gradually shifting from a soft orange to deep shades of pink and purple as the sun starts to set. The radio hums quietly in the background, playing some old indie rock song you vaguely recognize, but most of your attention is on Chan.

The conversation flows effortlessly, as it always does with him. You talk about the team, about practice, and even about the antics of Felix and Jisung—who, of course, keep Chan on his toes both on and off the field.

After about thirty minutes, you finally arrive at the diner. It's straight out of the fifties with bright neon lights, red vinyl booths, and a giant jukebox in the corner playing classic hits. You've seen places like this in movies but never actually been to one.

"This place is perfect," you say as you slide out of the car, taking in the retro charm.

Chan walks beside you, a proud grin on his face. "I knew you'd like it. Wait until you try the food."

Once inside, the two of you decide to get your meals to go, opting to enjoy the rest of the evening somewhere a little quieter. You order a steak salad with a cherry and white chocolate milkshake and Chan orders a burger and fries, sticking with something classic.

As you wait for the food, Chan leans back against the counter, glancing at you with a mischievous smile. "So, steak salad, huh? I pegged you as more of a burger and fries girl."

You smirk, rolling your eyes. "Just because I'm friends with Felix and Jisung doesn't mean I have the same terrible eating habits as them."

"Oh, trust me, I know. Jisung's diet is 80% ramen and Red Bull."

"And Felix eats like... five different kinds of fried chicken in a single sitting," you add with a laugh. "I swear, that boy has a death wish."

The food arrives quickly, and with the bags in hand, you both head back to the car. Chan drives for another twenty minutes, taking a winding road that leads up to a hilltop just outside of town. The view is stunning, especially with the last sliver of the sunset dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink, orange, and deep indigo.

Chan parks the car at the top of the hill, and the two of you hop out, climbing onto the hood to sit and eat. You settle in, opening your salad container and taking a bite as the cool evening breeze brushes against your skin.

"This is perfect," you murmur, looking out at the vast expanse of sky and the twinkling city lights below.

Chan nods in agreement, sipping his milkshake before glancing over at you. "So, tell me—what's so special about The Book Thief? I mean, I've seen you read it like a hundred times, but I've never asked you why you love it so much."

Your face lights up at the question, excitement bubbling in your chest as you set your salad aside for a moment. "Oh, where do I even start?"

He smiles, clearly enjoying your enthusiasm. "I'm listening."

You take a deep breath, thinking of the best way to explain it. "Well, The Book Thief is set in Nazi Germany during World War II, and it's narrated by Death, which is already such a unique perspective, right? The main character, Liesel, she's this young girl who loses everything, but she finds comfort in words, in books. The story is about how she uses books to survive, to make sense of a world that's falling apart around her."

Chan nods, listening intently as you continue, your voice growing more passionate.

"It's not just about the war or the books, though. It's about humanity. About kindness in the face of evil, about love and loss, and the way we find hope in the darkest times. The way it's written, it just... it makes you feel everything. You can't help but get attached to the characters, even though you know from the start that things aren't going to end well."

He raises an eyebrow. "So it's one of those books that breaks your heart?"

You laugh softly, nodding. "Pretty much. But it's worth it. Every time I read it, I find something new, something that hits me differently. It's one of the few book-to-movie adaptations that I actually enjoyed, too, which is rare for me."

Chan grins, taking another sip of his shake. "I might have to check it out now. You've definitely sold me on it."

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at the thought of him reading something you love so much. "If you do, let me know. I'd love to hear what you think."

The two of you finish your food, the conversation flowing easily as the sky darkens and the stars begin to appear. It's peaceful, sitting there on the hood of Chan's car, the city below twinkling like a sea of lights. There's something intimate about it, something that makes you feel closer to him in a way you hadn't expected.

Just as you're about to say something, you feel the first drop of rain hit your arm. You glance up, surprised to see dark clouds rolling in overhead. Before you can even react, the sky opens up, and rain starts pouring down in thick, heavy sheets.

You can't help it—you laugh. The sound bubbles out of you as you tip your head back, letting the rain soak your hair and drip down your face. It's cold, and you're getting absolutely drenched, but something about it feels freeing.

Chan, however, looks at you like you've lost your mind. "Y/N, you're gonna get sick."

You shake your head, grinning as the rain continues to pour. "What would Natasha Bedingfield say?"

He blinks at you, clearly confused. "Huh?"

You gasp dramatically, your hand flying to your chest. "Unwritten! Oh my god, Chan! Jisung and Felix are going to burn you at the stake for not understanding that reference."

Chan chuckles, wiping rain from his face as he tries to shield himself from the downpour. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry! But seriously, you're soaked to the bone, and your dress is, uh... well, it's kind of see-through now."

You glance down, noticing how your white dress clings to your body, the fabric almost translucent from the rain. You shrug, completely unbothered. "I've got a bra on, and I'm wearing hot pants under the dress. I'll survive."

Chan looks at you with a mixture of amusement and concern. "Yeah, but if you get sick right now, Jisung and Felix will never let me take you on another date."

You point at him, grinning. "Nicely played, Bang Chan. Nicely played."

He laughs, shaking his head as he pulls you off the hood of the car. "Come on, let's get out of the rain before you catch a cold."

You follow him, still laughing as the rain continues to pour, but you can't help but feel a little bit of warmth spreading through you despite the cold. There's something about the way Chan looks at you, something about the way this entire evening has played out, that makes you think this won't be the last time you end up drenched and laughing with him.

Once inside the car, Chan cranks the heat up, the warmth quickly filling the small space as you both sit there, soaked to the bone but smiling like idiots. He glances over at you, his eyes soft, and for a moment, the world outside fades away.

As soon as you settle into the passenger seat, you can't help but smile at how soaked you and Chan are. Rain still drips from your hair onto the seat, but the warmth from the car's heater slowly makes everything feel cosy despite your drenched clothes. Chan glances at you, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he runs a hand through his still-wet hair, pushing it back.

"Well, that wasn't how I imagined the night ending," he says, laughing softly. His voice is warm, and the way his lips curl into a grin sends a shiver through you—not from the cold, but something else.

You shake your head, chuckling. "What, getting caught in the rain wasn't part of your master plan?"

He grins. "I mean, I had something a little less... wet in mind."

You arch an eyebrow, smirking. "Oh? What was the plan, then?"

He shrugs as he starts the car. "I don't know... something about food, a nice drive back, maybe dropping you off without you looking like you've just walked through a storm."

You laugh, shaking your head at the thought. "Eh, I think the rain was a nice touch. Unpredictable."

As Chan pulls out of the diner's parking lot, you glance over at him, your fingers idly fiddling with the radio dial. You spin it to one of your favourite stations, hoping to hear something upbeat, something to keep this good mood going. The static clears, and suddenly, Natasha Bedingfield's Unwritten fills the car.

You burst out laughing, your hand shooting up to point at the radio. "See! I told you! It's a sign!"

Chan glances over at you with an incredulous smile, shaking his head. "Seriously?"

You nod, eyes wide with mock seriousness. "Yes! This is the universe telling us to go back out there and dance in the rain. Unwritten, Chan. It's fate."

He snorts, rolling his eyes as he turns the wheel, keeping his focus on the road. "Fate or not, Jisung and Felix will actually kill me if you get sick."

You wave him off dismissively, flipping your hair dramatically as the music pumps through the speakers. "Oh, please. They'd get over it. Besides, they do stuff like this with me all the time."

Chan glances at you, eyebrow raised. "Do what?"

"When it rains, and we're at the frat house, we lie in the garden."

He nearly chokes on his laughter, glancing over at you in disbelief. "You what?!"

You nod, completely serious. "Yep. We go out there, rain pouring down, and just lie in the grass, soaking it all in."

Chan shakes his head, clearly trying to picture the three of you doing that. "You're telling me that you, Felix, and Jisung, who are literal balls of sunshine, just... lie in the rain like that?"

"Mmhmm," you hum, smiling. "People think we'd hibernate when it rains, but nah, we're out there."

"Wait," Chan says, eyes widening in realization. "That time when all three of you came down with the flu and you were sick for, like, two weeks...?"

"Yep!" You laugh, nodding enthusiastically. "That was because we were out in the rain a few days before. It was right after that hurricane warning."

Chan slaps his palm against the steering wheel, groaning. "You're insane. All three of you."

You grin, unrepentant. "Totally worth it."

He shakes his head again, his tone somewhere between disbelief and amusement. "You know Minho had to play nursemaid for you three, right?"

"Don't remind me," you groan, laughing as the memories of that miserable two weeks flood back. "Jisung's bed became our sick haven. Minho brought us soup and medicine, and Felix complained the whole time that the soup was too hot. It was a mess."

Chan laughs, shaking his head again. "I bet Minho loved every second of that."

"Minho lived for it," you admit with a grin. "He pretended to be annoyed, but you could tell he secretly loved bossing us around."

The rain has finally let up by the time you and Chan pull up to the Alpha Phi frat house, but both of you are still soaked to the bone, shivering as the cold seeps into your skin. The storm caught you both off guard, drenching you during what should've been a calm and picturesque evening on the hilltop. Even with the heater blasting in Chan's car, your teeth are still chattering, and Chan isn't doing much better.

Chan glances over at you as he pulls into a parking spot. His lips are tinted blue from the cold, his hair dripping water into his eyes. "You sure you're okay? You're shaking like a leaf."

You nod, though it's a half-hearted attempt at pretending you're not freezing. "I'm fine. I've had worse. Plus, it was kind of fun, right?"

He chuckles, his deep voice making you feel warmer than the heat blasting through the vents. "Yeah, I guess it was." He turns the key in the ignition, killing the engine. "But maybe next time, we should pick somewhere indoors for dinner."

You smirk, teasing him. "Oh, what, are you scared of a little rain?"

He grins, shrugging. "I'm not scared, but I'd rather avoid hypothermia if possible. Plus, I'm gonna catch hell from Felix and Jisung if they see you like this."

"They'll live," you say with a laugh, unbuckling your seatbelt. "Besides, I've been soaked in the rain plenty of times before."

Chan raises an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. "Yeah, but I'm betting none of those times involved a fifties diner date with me."

You can't help the smile that spreads across your face. "Fair point."

As you both climb out of the car, the cold night air hits you again, and you shiver, crossing your arms over your chest. Chan jogs over to your side and wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to his side as you both make your way toward the frat house entrance.

"You know," he says, his voice light as you walk, "I was thinking... would you want to go out again next week? Like, for dinner, maybe somewhere less rainy."

You glance up at him, surprised at how casual and confident he sounds, despite the shiver in his voice from the cold. His dark eyes are warm, even in the dim light from the porch. "I'd love that," you say, then grin playfully. "But I don't mind the rain."

He laughs, squeezing your shoulder as you reach the front door. "Duly noted. But I'll still try to find somewhere dry next time."

When you step inside the frat house, the warmth hits you like a wave, and it's a welcome change from the cold rain outside. The sound of voices fills the air—music is playing faintly in the background, and you can hear someone laughing loudly from the living room. The house is busy, as usual, but the moment you and Chan step through the door, all eyes seem to turn to you.

Felix and Jisung, who had been lounging on the couch in front of the TV, immediately leap up when they see you both. Felix's blonde hair bounces as he rushes over, and Jisung follows close behind, both of them wearing matching expressions of horror.

"Holy shit, Y/N, what the hell happened to you?!" Felix exclaims, eyes wide as he takes in your drenched appearance.

"You look like a fucking drowned rat!" Jisung adds, though his concern is clear despite the teasing.

Before you can respond, Chan lets out a small, sheepish laugh. "Yeah, we, uh, got caught in the rain."

Felix grabs a towel from a nearby chair and drapes it over your shoulders, his hands working quickly to pat you dry. "Caught in the rain? You look like you've been swimming in the fucking ocean, mate!"

Jisung, never one to miss a beat, starts wringing out your hair, water dripping onto the floor as he works. "This is unacceptable. Upstairs. Now. Felix's room. You need to dry off before you catch something."

Felix nods in agreement, already ushering you toward the staircase. "Chan, you're staying downstairs. We need to gossip in peace."

You glance back at Chan, who's trying—and failing—to hide his amusement. He shrugs, holding his hands up in surrender. "Fine, fine. I'll stay down here."

Jisung shoots him a mock glare. "I can't believe you brought her back soaked to the bone. What kind of date is this?"

Chan laughs, running a hand through his wet hair. "Hey, it wasn't my fault. The weather turned on us."

Felix huffs, shaking his head. "Excuses, excuses. Come on, Y/N. You're coming upstairs before you freeze."

Felix is already ahead of you, grabbing another towel from somewhere and practically shoving it into your hands. "Chan can stay downstairs and think about how he fucked up," he mutters.

You glance back at Chan, who's leaning against the doorframe with a sheepish grin, clearly amused by Felix and Jisung's antics. "Sorry, Y/N," he calls out, laughing as he raises his hands in surrender. "I'll just... wait down here."

"You better!" Felix yells over his shoulder as he marches up the stairs. "No more soaking wet dates until you learn how to control the weather!"

Jisung snickers, practically dragging you up the staircase. "Honestly, you'd think he'd check the forecast."

You roll your eyes, laughing at the absurdity of it all as you're pulled into the chaos that is Felix's room. It's a cosy space, there's a large desk cluttered with gaming gear and an impressive gaming chair, which you've stolen for yourself more times than you can count during impromptu hangouts.

Jisung shoves you into the chair before throwing a towel over your head, his hands immediately going to work on drying your hair with a little too much enthusiasm. You can't even see him, but you can hear his voice as he fusses over you. "You're lucky we're here. Who knows what kind of shit Chan would've done if we hadn't intervened."

"Yeah," Felix chimes in, digging through his drawer for what looks like some socks. "You probably would've caught pneumonia or something. He's hopeless when it comes to romance."

"Hey," you protest weakly from under the towel, voice muffled by the fabric. "The rain wasn't that bad."

Felix shoots you a look, one eyebrow raised in disbelief. "You're dripping water all over my floor, Y/N. It was bad."

Before you can respond, the door opens, and Jeongin steps into the room holding a steaming mug of hot chocolate. "Chan made this for you, but these two"—he gestures toward Felix and Jisung with his thumb—"told him to stay downstairs, so he asked me to bring it up."

You pull the towel off your head just enough to peek at Jeongin and the mug, your heart doing a little flutter at the thought of Chan making hot chocolate for you. It's a simple gesture, but something about it feels sweet and personal. "Thanks, Jeongin," you say, reaching for the mug.

Jeongin grins, sliding the cup into your hands. "No problem. You're gonna need it if you're hanging out with these two lunatics."

"Hey!" Jisung protests, still aggressively towelling your hair dry. "We're being responsible friends. We're making sure she doesn't freeze to death after being out in the rain with a guy who clearly doesn't own an umbrella."

Felix rolls his eyes, but there's a smile on his lips. "Yeah, yeah. Did you guys kiss, though?"

You nearly choke on your first sip of hot chocolate, but you manage to swallow before raising an eyebrow at Felix. "Excuse me?"

Felix's grin is wide and cheeky, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Come on, spill. You went on a cute little date in the rain, and now you're back here all flustered. Did you kiss him?"

You take another sip of the hot chocolate, letting the warmth fill you as you shake your head. "No, not yet, unfortunately."

Felix and Jisung both stare at you, wide-eyed with anticipation after you reveal there was no kiss. The tension hangs in the air for a moment, and then Jisung throws his arms up in mock frustration, pacing dramatically in front of Felix's bed.

"No kiss?" he exclaims, sounding both horrified and baffled. "We sent you off into the rain with Captain fucking Bang Chan and you didn't even get a kiss? This is unacceptable. Felix, write that down."

Felix, ever the sidekick to Jisung's antics, pulls out a small notepad from the drawer of his desk and flips it open with a flourish. He grabs a pen and clicks it, poised to start scribbling. "What am I writing?"

Jisung, his eyes narrowing with exaggerated seriousness, points at you like a detective uncovering a conspiracy. "We need to make a list. A list of requirements and expectations that Chan must meet before he even thinks about asking her on another date."

You laugh, pulling the towel around you tighter. "Are you serious right now?"

Jisung snatches the comb from Felix's vanity and gives you a sharp look. "Now sit back and relax, princess," he says, his voice dripping with mock authority. "I'm about to give you the best hair care of your life."

You roll your eyes but settle into Felix's gaming chair, leaning back as you let Jisung gently work through the knots in your hair. Despite the aggressive energy he usually radiates, his hands are surprisingly gentle, carefully detangling each knot without pulling too hard. It's almost... soothing, in a weird way.

Felix, sitting cross-legged on his bed, notebook poised on his lap, taps his pen against the notepad like a man possessed. "Right, where were we?" he asks, a grin pulling at his lips. "Oh yeah, making sure Captain Bang Chan lives up to our best friend's standards."

You give them both a playful glare. "You two are way too invested in my love life."

"We're not invested," Jisung says, pausing to rake the comb through your hair again. "We're protective. There's a difference. Now, let's get back to this list of demands. You deserve only the best, so it's our job to filter out the subpar dudes."

Felix nods solemnly, clicking the pen. "Agreed. If Chan doesn't meet these standards, we'll end this for you before it even begins."

You snort, leaning back into the chair. "You're both absolutely insane."

"Insane, but right," Jisung insists, giving your hair a soft tug for emphasis. "And trust me, you'll thank us for this later."

Felix's eyes gleam with mischief as he starts writing. "Alright, first of all—Chan needs to know everything about The Book Thief. Characters, themes, hidden meanings. He better be able to have in-depth discussions with you about the book at any time. If he can't do that, then what's the point?"

You chuckle, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease as Jisung works the comb through your hair. "You two really think I need to date a literature major?"

"No," Felix replies, shaking his head. "But if he's going to date you, he better know the basics. He should at least be able to have a conversation about your favourite book without embarrassing himself."

Jisung nods in agreement, still combing. "Exactly. This is crucial. Next up—Chan must proofread your creative writing assignments for your minor if you ask him to. I know you, Y/N. You obsess over every little detail in your work. Chan's gotta step up and help with that."

You burst out laughing. "He's not even a lit major! How do you expect him to help me with my writing?"

"Doesn't matter," Felix says, scribbling furiously in his notepad. "He's smart, isn't he? He can read and give feedback. That's part of being a supportive boyfriend."

Jisung hums thoughtfully, gently untangling another knot. "And let's not forget the most important rule. Chan must always carry cherry lollipops. No exceptions. That's your thing, Y/N, and if he doesn't have at least one on him at all times, he's out."

Felix smirks, adding that to the list. "Definitely. You've got a brand, and he needs to respect that. Cherry lollipops are non-negotiable."

"You two are ridiculous," you say with a smile, shaking your head as Jisung continues combing through your now smooth hair.

"We're just getting started," Jisung replies with a grin. "Let's see... Oh! He must memorize your coffee order. If he can't order it perfectly, he's done."

Felix nods enthusiastically, jotting it down. "And he has to be able to tell when you're having a bad day just by looking at you. No asking. He should know instinctively."

Jisung leans over your shoulder, inspecting Felix's list. "Don't forget, he must also be willing to go to the bookstore with you and carry all your books. If he complains even once, he fails."

You laugh out loud at that one, swatting at Jisung's hand. "Oh come on, that's a bit much!"

"No, it's not," Felix insists, wagging his pen. "It's bare minimum boyfriend behaviour. He needs to support your reading addiction."

Jisung grins. "He should also randomly surprise you with books. No special occasion necessary just because he knows it'll make you smile."

Felix writes that one down too, adding, "And he needs to know your taste in literature inside and out. If he buys you a book you hate, that's a big red flag."

You groan, but you're still smiling. "How are you two even coming up with all of this?"

"It's easy," Jisung replies as he finishes with your hair, setting the comb down on Felix's vanity. "We just know you really well, so we know what you deserve."

Once Felix and Jisung are done crafting the list of increasingly ridiculous standards, Jisung leans back in Felix's gaming chair, admiring their handiwork with a gleam in his eye. "Alright, now we're going to make sure Chan actually agrees to this."

Felix nods, slapping the notepad with a grin. "But wait! We're missing something. Before he can even sign the list, we need to create The Felix and Jisung Best Friend Test."

You pause, mid-sip of your hot chocolate, raising an eyebrow. "The fucking what now?"

Jisung jumps out of his chair like he's struck with divine inspiration. "It's the ultimate screening test. Before Chan can officially date you, Felix and I need to make sure he's worthy of our approval."

Felix grins devilishly, clearly in full agreement. "Exactly. We'll come up with a set of questions that he has to answer. If he passes, then he's worthy of dating you. If he fails..." He lets his voice trail off dramatically.

Jisung crosses his arms and nods solemnly. "Then it's a no-go."

You stare at both of them, half-amused, half-exasperated. "You two are so full of shit."

"We're not full of shit," Felix says, his voice overly serious. "We're just looking out for you. This is important. We have to protect you from subpar boyfriends."

"Yeah," Jisung adds, already pulling out a fresh sheet of paper to write the test questions. "You don't want to end up with some guy who doesn't even know your favourite book or messes up your coffee order."

You groan though you can't help but smile. "Alright, fine. Let's hear these 'test' questions."

Jisung taps the pen against his chin thoughtfully. "First question: 'What are your intentions with our sweet Y/N?' Gotta make sure he's in it for the right reasons."

Felix scribbles it down with a smirk. "Good one. If he hesitates, it's an automatic fail."

Jisung nods. "Next question: 'Why didn't you kiss her on the first date? Is she not good enough for you? What's wrong with you?'"

You nearly choke on your laughter, shaking your head. "Oh my god, you're seriously going to ask him that?"

"Absolutely," Jisung says, grinning. "We need answers."

Felix adds, "And it's important. If there's no kiss on the first date, we need to know why."

Jisung leans over Felix's shoulder, reading the list as he adds more questions. "How about this one: 'What are you going to do if Y/N gets kidnapped? How are you helping Felix and me get her back from the heathens?'"

Felix cracks up, his pen still moving. "Yes! And we're expecting a detailed answer. None of that 'I'll call the cops' bullshit. We need action, a full-on rescue plan."

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose but still smiling. "You guys are fucking ridiculous."

"And yet, you love us for it," Jisung says with a cheeky grin. "Alright, next question... What's a question that'll really throw him off?"

Felix taps his pen thoughtfully. "How about... 'If Y/N wanted to adopt a pet raccoon, what would your reaction be?'"

Jisung snorts, grinning wildly. "Perfect. That'll tell us if he's capable of handling your weirdness."

You burst out laughing. "I don't want a pet raccoon!"

"Yeah, but hypothetically, what if you did?" Jisung replies, shrugging. "It's a test of his adaptability. Gotta see if he can roll with the punches."

"Okay, next one," Felix says, his voice slightly muffled as he scribbles away. "'If Y/N comes home with ten books, what's your reaction?'"

Jisung grins. "And if he says anything other than 'I'll help carry them,' he's done."

The two of them continue brainstorming ridiculous questions while you lean back in the gaming chair, amused and baffled by their dedication. After a few more minutes, they finally stop, looking at the list like they've just created a masterpiece.

"Alright," Jisung says, holding up the notebook triumphantly. "The Felix and Jisung Best Friend Test is complete. Let's go find Chan."

You roll your eyes, but there's no stopping them now. You stand up and follow them downstairs to the living room, where the rest of the guys are lounging around. Minho and Jeongin are sprawled on the couch, while Hyunjin and Seungmin are half-heartedly watching something on TV.

As you walk in, Minho raises an eyebrow, glancing at you and then at Felix and Jisung, who are clearly on a mission. "What's this all about?"

Before you can answer, Jeongin scoots over, making room for you on the couch. You sit between him and Minho, and they both immediately pull you into their warmth. Minho wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. "You're freezing," he mutters, his voice low and concerned. "Did Felix and Jisung not take care of you upstairs?"

Jeongin grabs your hands, rubbing them between his to warm them up. "Yeah, you're still cold. You need to warm up properly."

You smile at their concern, feeling the warmth from their bodies seep into your skin. "I'm fine, really. You two are just acting like overprotective brothers now."

Minho snorts. "Someone has to look out for you."

Before you can say anything else, Jisung suddenly dims the lights, casting the room into a shadowy glow. Felix stands near the light switch, his face serious. "Alright, everyone. We're about to interrogate Chan."

Chan, sitting comfortably in the armchair, looks up in surprise, his brows furrowing. "Uh... what?"

Jisung steps forward, pulling out his phone and turning on the flashlight, shining it directly into Chan's face. "You heard us, Bang Chan. You're about to take The Felix and Jisung Best Friend Test."

Chan blinks, momentarily blinded by the light. "Wait, what?"

Felix steps forward with the notepad, his voice dripping with authority. "This is a screening process. If you pass, you're allowed to date Y/N. If you fail, well... let's just say you'll have some explaining to do."

You groan, burying your face in your hands. "I can't believe this is happening."

But Chan just laughs, leaning back in the armchair and crossing his arms. "Alright, let's hear it. What's this test?"

Jisung clears his throat dramatically as if this is a matter of utmost importance. "First question: What are your intentions with our sweet Y/N?"

Chan looks amused but answers seriously. "My intentions are to take her on nice dates, make her smile, and get to know her better."

Felix narrows his eyes, scribbling something in his notepad. "Good answer. Next question: Why didn't you kiss her on the first date? Is she not good enough? What's wrong with you?"

Chan laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, the timing didn't feel right. I didn't want to rush it."

Jisung leans forward, still holding the phone flashlight up. "You sure it wasn't because you don't find her attractive?"

Chan's face softens as he looks at you. "Definitely not. I just didn't want to ruin a good night by moving too fast."

Felix jots down some more notes, looking satisfied. "Okay, next question. What are you going to do if Y/N gets kidnapped? How are you helping Jisung and me get her back from the heathens?"

Chan raises an eyebrow, clearly trying not to laugh. "Uh... first, I'd call you two to let you know what's happening. Then I'd help track her down, using my connections and resources. I'll be the one to take down the kidnappers."

Jisung nods approvingly. "Good, good. We need someone who's willing to get their hands dirty."

Felix continues, his tone completely serious. "Alright, here's a tricky one. If Y/N wanted to adopt a pet raccoon, what would your reaction be?"

Chan chuckles, leaning forward slightly. "If Y/N wanted a pet raccoon, I'd probably try to talk her into getting something a little less... wild. But if she really wanted it, I'd help her take care of it."

Jisung grins. "Good. Adaptability. Nice."

Felix glances at the list, nodding to himself before moving on. "Alright, final question. If Y/N comes home with ten books, what's your reaction?"

Chan doesn't even hesitate. "I'd help her carry them, no questions asked."

Felix and Jisung exchange a glance, clearly impressed with Chan's answers. Felix gives a satisfied nod. "Alright, Chan. You passed the test."

Jisung shuts off the flashlight and steps back. "You're not out of the woods yet, though."

Felix pulls out the list of ridiculous standards they'd created earlier and clears his throat. "Now, we have a list of standards that you need to agree to if you're going to date Y/N."

Chan raises an eyebrow, leaning back in the armchair. "Standards?"

Jisung smirks, grabbing the notepad from Felix and reading aloud. "First: You must know everything about The Book Thief, characters, themes, quotes, everything. Y/N needs to be able to discuss it with you at any time."

Chan chuckles, nodding. "Alright, I can do that."

"Second," Felix continues, his tone serious. "You must proofread her creative writing assignments if she asks. No complaints."

Chan nods again. "Deal."

"Third," Jisung adds, his grin growing wider. "You must always carry cherry lollipops. No exceptions. If Y/N asks for one and you don't have it, you're done."

Chan laughs, clearly enjoying the absurdity of the situation. "Got it. I'll stock up."

Felix flips to the next page, continuing the list. "You also need to memorize her coffee order perfectly, be willing to go to the bookstore with her, and carry all her books without complaint."

Jisung adds, "Oh, and you need to surprise her with books every now and then. No special occasion necessary."

Chan grins, shaking his head. "That actually sounds fun. I'm in."

"And last but not least," Felix says, looking at the final line on the list, "you need to be able to tell when Y/N's having a bad day just by looking at her. No asking. You should know instinctively."

Chan looks thoughtful for a moment, then nods. "I think I can manage that."

Jisung hands him a pen, a triumphant grin on his face. "These are non-negotiable, Chan. You are to sign this list and commit to these standards."

Chan takes the pen, still smiling, and signs the bottom of the list with a flourish. "There. Happy?"

Felix and Jisung exchange satisfied nods, clearly pleased with themselves. "Very," Felix says, tucking the list into his back pocket. "You've officially earned our approval."

You can't help but laugh at the entire situation, shaking your head. "You guys are unbelievable."

Minho, who's been watching the entire exchange with an amused smirk, tightens his arm around your shoulders and leans in. "I'm surprised Chan actually put up with all of that."

Chan shrugs, standing up from the armchair. "It was worth it."

Jeongin, still holding your hands, grins. "Well, I think this means we can officially welcome you into the family, Chan."

Chan gives a mock salute. "Glad to be here."

It's game day, and the energy on campus is absolutely electric. The Miroh Maniacs are playing their biggest rivals—the Northridge Titans—and you're, as always, exactly where you belong: on the players' bench, close to the action.

The sun is high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the packed bleachers. Fans are screaming, faces painted red and black in support of the Maniacs, and you're sitting in the middle of the chaos, completely calm, once again flipping through your worn copy of The Book Thief.

Your red summer dress flutters lightly in the breeze, contrasting against the bright green of the football field. The black wedges on your feet sink slightly into the grass, and your signature red heart-shaped sunglasses sit perched on your nose. You cross your legs, turning another page, your focus entirely on the book. It's comforting, especially amidst the madness of game day.

The Maniacs' jerseys stand out against the green—Chan with his number 03, Minho wearing 25, Felix sporting 01, and the rest of the team spread across the field. Their black and red uniforms gleam in the sunlight, and the tension in the air is thick.

It's always like this when they play the Titans. These games are intense, brutal, even. You've seen more dirty plays and borderline illegal tackles during these matches than you care to admit.

Today is no different. From the moment the game kicks off, the Titans come at the Maniacs full force. You can hear the crack of helmets and the heavy thud of bodies slamming into each other, the crowd roaring in response to every hit. The referee's whistle cuts through the noise, but it doesn't stop the Titans from playing dirty.

You catch sight of Felix getting shoved to the ground by one of their linebackers, a dirty move that earns him nothing but a smirk from the Titans' player. Jisung's quick to step in, shoving the guy back before the referees can even intervene.

"Fucking Titans," Jisung mutters, glancing toward you as he returns to the field. You give him a supportive smile from your spot on the bench, watching as he lines up again. He's always one to defend his teammates, especially Felix.

As the game goes on, you try to stay focused on your book, but it's hard not to be distracted by the intensity of the match. You glance up every now and then, watching as Chan barrels through the Titans' defensive line, Minho weaving through the chaos with his usual precision. Changbin's a wrecking ball, slamming into players with no hesitation, while Hyunjin and Jeongin dart across the field like lightning.

You can feel the pressure building with every second that ticks by, especially as the Titans continue to play dirty. By the time halftime rolls around, the score is close, too close for comfort. The Maniacs jog off the field, sweat dripping down their faces, some of them muttering curses under their breath about the Titans' underhanded tactics.

As they head to the locker room, you settle deeper into your seat, trying to focus back on your book. You're mid-sentence when you suddenly feel a presence nearby, someone standing too close. You glance up, annoyed at the interruption, only to see a guy from the rival team standing right in front of you. He's got the Titans' logo plastered across his jersey, and the look on his face immediately sets you on edge.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" he says, his voice dripping with sleaze. His eyes rake over you, lingering in ways that make your skin crawl. "Didn't think a pretty little thing like you would be hanging around with those losers."

You ignore him, hoping he'll get the hint and leave. You flip the page in your book, acting like you haven't even noticed him. But of course, guys like him don't take hints.

"Hey, sweetheart, I'm talking to you," he presses, stepping even closer. You can smell the cheap cologne and sweat on him. "You waiting for one of those fuckers on the Maniacs? Why don't you come watch the real men play instead? I could show you a better time."

You grit your teeth, doing your best to tune him out. You've dealt with assholes like this before—guys who think they can say whatever they want because they're on some team. It's not worth engaging. But he's not done. He leans in closer, his voice lowering as he continues his vulgar comments.

"You know, a girl like you shouldn't be wasting time on a bunch of losers like them. I could make you feel good, babe. Real good. Just say the word."

Your fingers tighten around the book, every fibre of your being screaming to shove him away, but you hold back. He's not worth your energy. You stay silent, eyes glued to the page.

"Oh, come on. What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?" he taunts, leaning over you now. "You're not gonna say no to a guy like me, are you?"

And then, just like that, he reaches down and snatches your book out of your hands. You feel your stomach drop as he holds it above his head, grinning like he's accomplished something.

"Reading, huh? What a waste of time. Why don't you come have some fun with me instead? I promise it'll be better than this boring shit."

You stand up, crossing your arms over your chest, glaring at him with a look that could burn a hole through steel. "Give it back."

The guy just smirks, holding the book even higher above his head. "Oh, I'll give it back when you ask nicely. Maybe throw in a little thank you while you're at it."

Before you can even respond, someone from behind shouts, "OI!"

The guy freezes, and you turn to see Chan storming over, the rest of the team flanking him like a wall of muscle and fury. His eyes are locked on the guy holding your book, his jaw clenched tight, and there's murder in his expression.

Without missing a beat, Chan wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You lean into his side, your heart pounding, but the tension starts to melt away with him there. Felix and Jisung are already stepping up, both of them glaring at the guy.

"You've got three fucking seconds to give her the book back," Felix growls, his usually bright and playful demeanour nowhere to be seen.

Jisung steps forward, fists clenched. "Or we'll make sure you won't be able to hold anything for a long fucking time."

The guy falters, glancing nervously between them, but he tries to play it off. "Relax, I was just having a little fun. No need to get all worked up."

Changbin, looking like he's seconds away from throwing the guy into the bleachers, steps up beside Felix. "Give her the fucking book. Now."

Minho crosses his arms, his gaze icy. "Before we decide to make sure you never play another game again."

The guy's bravado cracks, and he lowers the book slightly, trying to keep what little dignity he has left. "Whatever," he mutters, tossing the book toward you. "She's fucking ugly anyway."

Before anyone can react, Jisung lunges. He tackles the guy to the ground with a force that knocks the breath out of everyone watching. The rival player barely has time to register what's happening before Jisung's fists are flying, rage clear in every strike.

You feel Chan's grip tighten on you as he pulls you back, keeping you close. "Stay with me," he murmurs into your ear, his voice low and protective. You lean into him, still trying to process everything as Jeongin and Hyunjin rush over, pulling Jisung off the guy before things get out of hand.

"Enough, Han!" Hyunjin shouts, dragging Jisung back. "He's not worth it."

Jisung struggles for a second, but eventually calms down, breathing heavily as he glares at the guy on the ground. "Don't you fucking dare talk about her like that again."

The guy scrambles to his feet, muttering curses under his breath as he stumbles away, clearly shaken.

Felix steps forward, placing a hand on Jisung's shoulder. "Let him go, man. He's not worth it."

You finally exhale, the tension in your chest easing slightly as the situation defuses. You're still leaning against Chan, his arm wrapped securely around you, and you glance up at him. He's watching the guy walk away, his jaw still tight, but when he looks down at you, his expression softens.

"You okay?" he asks, his voice gentle.

You nod, though your heart is still racing. "Yeah. Thanks for that."

He smiles, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "Always."

The second half of the game kicks off with a surge of intensity that practically crackles in the air. The crowd is louder than ever, chanting and cheering as the Maniacs and Titans line up on the field. You can feel the tension pulsing through the stadium, but all you can think about is the smirk that guy had on his face and how Jisung tackled him to the ground.

You catch Chan's eye as he gets into position, his jaw tight, eyes focused like a predator stalking prey. He's locked in now, and it's obvious who he's targeting.

The moment the whistle blows, Chan charges forward with a level of ferocity you've only seen in games against the Titans. He barrels through the opposing players like a tank, zeroing in on the guy who had the audacity to mess with you.

There's no hesitation, no mercy in his movements. Chan slams into him hard, sending the player sprawling onto the field with a heavy thud. The crowd erupts, half in awe, half in shock, but you just smirk, knowing this is personal for Chan.

From the bench, you and Jisung watch with amused satisfaction. Jisung's been benched for his earlier outburst but he's not bothered. In fact, he's enjoying every second of watching Chan wreck that guy's shit.

"Damn, Chan's out for blood," Jisung mutters, leaning back on the bench as he watches the game with a grin. "That guy's going to feel those hits tomorrow."

You chuckle, flipping through your book even though the game keeps pulling your attention. "I don't feel bad for him. He had it coming."

Jisung nods, watching as Chan lines up for the next play, eyes narrowed on his target. "Oh, for sure. That dude's lucky Chan's not actually trying to break bones."

Another whistle and the play starts again. Chan doesn't miss a beat, taking down the same guy with ruthless efficiency. It's like watching a lion pick off the weakest in the herd. Each tackle is harder than the last, and each time the guy gets up, he's a little slower, a little more shaken.

Jisung laughs, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. "You know, Chan really likes you."

You pause, pretending to still be engrossed in The Book Thief even though the words are starting to blur from how fast your heart is beating. "Yeah, I know. He was really sweet on our date."

Jisung raises an eyebrow. "Sweet, huh? Is that why you didn't kiss?"

You roll your eyes, shifting in your seat. "I don't know. I just wish he would've kissed me. I mean, he was perfect the whole night, but..."

Jisung snorts, shaking his head. "He's waiting for the right moment, that dork. It's Chan. He overthinks everything."

"He's sweet," you say with a small smile, glancing over at the field as Chan flattens the guy again. "But yeah, he could be a little bolder."

Jisung chuckles, leaning back and crossing his arms. "He's a huge step up from the losers you usually date, though."

You give him a side-eye but can't help but laugh. "Thanks, Ji. Real subtle."

Jisung grins. "Just saying. Chan's actually a good guy. He treats you right, and he's obviously willing to tackle anyone who looks at you the wrong way."

You smirk, watching as the game progresses with Chan's relentless assault on the guy who'd tried to mess with you. The Titans are starting to look rattled, their dirty tactics failing as the Maniacs pick up momentum. Every time Chan hits the guy, you and Jisung share a glance, unable to hide your amusement.

"God, he's just laying him out over and over," Jisung laughs, shaking his head. "I almost feel bad for the guy. Almost."

You lean back, crossing your legs and finally closing your book, realizing you're too distracted to read. "He deserves it."

"Damn right he does," Jisung mutters, eyes flicking back to the field. "And Chan? He's doing it for you. You see how hard he's going?"

Your chest flutters a little, watching Chan as he commands the field, each hit more powerful than the last. Yeah, you've noticed. He's not just playing for the team right now. He's playing for you.

The final whistle blows, and the Maniacs emerge victorious with a hard-fought win. The stands erupt into wild cheers, red and black confetti raining down as fans jump to their feet. The Maniacs' players are high-fiving and clapping each other on the back, but your eyes are locked on Chan as he jogs off the field, eyes immediately searching for you.

Felix, Minho, and the rest of the team are basking in the victory, but Chan's focus is entirely on you. As he gets closer, you can see the adrenaline still pumping through his veins, his chest rising and falling with each breath. His hair is damp with sweat, his jersey streaked with dirt, but he's never looked better.

He doesn't stop when he reaches you. Instead, he hooks his arm around your waist, pulling you up from the bench in one fluid motion before pressing his lips to yours. It's not gentle, not soft like you might've imagined for a first kiss. It's fierce, fueled by the high of victory and the raw emotion from earlier. But it's perfect.

The second his lips meet yours, the world seems to blur. The roar of the crowd fades into the background, and for a moment, it's just you and Chan. You kiss him back, wrapping your arms around his neck as he lifts you slightly off the ground. You can feel the strength in his arms, the heat radiating from his body, and the way his lips move against yours is enough to make your head spin.

Around you, the entire football team erupts into cheers and whistles, but you don't care. You and Chan are locked in your own little world. His grip tightens on your waist, pulling you even closer as his lips move against yours with a kind of urgency that takes your breath away.

When you finally pull apart, both of you are breathless, and Chan presses his forehead against yours, his smile wide and genuine.

"Took you long enough," you tease, your heart racing.

He laughs, his eyes sparkling with that boyish charm that always gets to you. "Sorry, I guess I was waiting for the right moment."

You chuckle, still feeling the warmth of his lips lingering on yours. "Well, I think this qualifies."

"Damn right it does," Jisung calls from the sidelines, still sitting on the bench. He's grinning from ear to ear, and Felix is right beside him, laughing. The entire team is watching now, most of them whistling or clapping, and you roll your eyes at their over-the-top reactions.

Chan sets you back down, his arm still wrapped around your waist as he turns to face the team, his grin widening. "Alright, alright. Get your laughs in now."

Felix smirks, clapping his hands. "I knew it! I fucking knew it was gonna happen today. Took you long enough, mate."

Minho, ever the smug one, crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow. "Not bad, Bang Chan. Not bad at all. But we all knew it was coming."

You roll your eyes, leaning into Chan's side as the team continues to tease. Jeongin comes up and claps Chan on the back, grinning. "Finally, man. We were starting to think you'd never make a move."

Chan chuckles, tightening his arm around you. "Yeah, well... figured I'd save the kiss for after a win."

Jisung, still lounging on the bench, raises an eyebrow. "You're just lucky you didn't fuck it up. If you waited any longer, Y/N might've made the first move."

You smirk, looking up at Chan. "He's not wrong."

Chan laughs, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your temple. "Guess I'll have to make sure I'm quicker next time."

The rest of the team hoots and hollers, clearly enjoying the moment. Even Hyunjin, who's usually more composed, is grinning like an idiot. Seungmin shakes his head, trying to suppress a laugh. "I'm just glad we finally got that over with. It was painful watching you two dance around each other."

Felix claps his hands together, a wicked grin on his face. "Alright, next step is Chan officially joining the 'Best Friends Approved Boyfriend' club. Y/N's got some standards, and we need to make sure he's up to the task."

Chan groans, shooting Felix a look. "I already signed the damn list. What more do you want from me?"

You laugh, shaking your head as Felix continues to tease. "We'll let you off the hook for now, Captain," you say, giving him a playful nudge. "But only because you did good today."

Chan grins down at you, his eyes softening. "Thanks. That means a lot, coming from you."

As the team slowly starts to head toward the locker rooms, you and Chan linger for a moment longer, basking in the aftermath of the game and the kiss that's still fresh on your lips. The sun is beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the field, and for a moment, everything feels perfect.

Chan pulls you closer, his voice low as he leans in. "So, what do you say we go out tonight? Celebrate the win... and the kiss?"

You smile, your heart fluttering at the thought. "I'd like that."

He grins, pressing one last kiss to your forehead before leading you toward the locker rooms. The Maniacs may have won the game, but in this moment, it feels like you and Chan are the real victors.

[omgsquee2001]

Stray Kids

OT8

3Racha

Bang Chan

Real Victors (Frat!SKZ)(College AU)

Love In Print Masterlist

Seo Changbin

She's Not Afraid (Frat!SKZ) (College AU)

Han Jisung

File It Under N For No One Gives A Fuck (police officer!Han Jisung) Strawberries and Heaven (Frat!SKZ) (College AU)

To Han Jisung’s Sheer, Unbridled Stupidity (Frat!SKZ)(College AU)

Danceracha

Lee Minho

Sunshine's Guide To Murder Masterlist

More Than Enough Time (Frat!SKZ)(College AU)

All I'll Ever Ask (Frat!SKZ)(College AU)

Hwang Hyunjin

Look For Me (Frat!SKZ) (College AU)

Lee Felix

A Little More Yours (Frat!SKZ) (College AU)

Absolutely Fucking Perfectly Imperfect (Frat!SKZ) (College AU)

Good For You (Peaky Blinders AU)

Vocalracha

Kim Seungmin

My Very Own Speed Demon (Frat!SKZ) (College AU)

Yang Jeongin

Hopelessly In Love (Frat!SKZ) (College AU)

General Taglist: @nightmarenyxx

[omgsquee2001]

How does this only have 70 likes?! This story is amazing and deserves more likes. You’re an amazing writer. Keep up the good work 😊

Good For You Lee Felix x fem!reader (Peaky Blinders AU)

WC: 20.1K

CW: sex work, reader is a prostitute, talks of war, violence against women, time period appropriate stereotypical views of prostitutes, talks of shellshock, injuries, guns, substance abuse (opium use), death, sort of pre-established relationship General Masterlist SKZ Masterlist

The sharp smell of brine and steel hangs heavy in the air as Felix’s head lolls back against Minho’s shoulder. The three of them stumble forward, feet slamming against the slick, grimy cobblestones of the Birmingham docks, trying to outrun the trouble they’ve just stirred. Felix’s blood leaks in dark rivulets, soaking through his shirt and onto Minho and Jisung's coats as the two of them hold him between them.

“Fuckin’ hell, Felix,” Minho grunts, his voice low and rough, like he’s dragging each word out of his throat. “You’re heavy as shit when you’re bleedin’ out.”

Felix groans, his face pale under the weak lamplight. “I’m not heavy. You two are just weak.”

“You’ve just been stabbed, you daft bastard,” Jisung spits from Felix’s other side, his breath coming short as they drag him forward. “Shut up and let us save your sorry arse.”

The clatter of distant voices rises behind them, followed by the unmistakable click of bootheels echoing off the cobbles. The sound is distant, but it’s getting closer. Minho snaps his head over his shoulder and hisses a curse. “They’re still fuckin’ comin’. Move faster, Jisung!”

“I’m movin’ as quick as I can!” Jisung snaps, shifting to get a better grip on Felix. The man's knees buckle for a moment, and Jisung shoots him a glare. “Felix, if you die on me, I’ll kill you myself.”

Felix lets out a rough, breathless chuckle. “You talk too fuckin’ much, Jisung. Both of you do.”

Jisung’s face twists in exasperation. “We just stole a crate of guns full of enough fuckin’ weaponry to supply a small army, and now we’re draggin’ your useless body out of here, bleeding like a pig.”

Minho snorts. “He’s got a point.”

Felix coughs, wincing as the stab wound flares with pain. He leans heavier against Minho’s shoulder and mutters, “Your chatter’s not gonna stop ‘em followin’ us, is it?”

“We’re talkin’ so we don’t go fuckin’ mad,” Minho snaps. “Jisung, grab him tighter, will you?”

Jisung rolls his eyes but adjusts his hold, and they stumble faster toward the edge of the docks. Felix feels his head spin again, the throbbing in his stomach worse now than when the knife first went in. He tries to breathe, but the sharp sting of it makes him curse under his breath.

“You need to keep that blood inside you,” Minho says, glancing down at him, his tone serious.

Jisung cuts in, his voice sharp and panicked. “We need to get him to the Garrison. We’re closest to-”

“No.” Felix’s voice comes out harsh and ragged. Both men look at him, startled. “No Garrison.”

Minho furrows his brow, annoyed. “You’re fuckin’ kiddin’, right? You’re bleedin’ out. You’ll die in the fuckin’ street if we don’t get you patched up proper.”

Felix shakes his head, sweat glistening on his brow. “Take me to the flats.”

“The what?” Jisung barks.

“The flats,” Felix repeats, his voice weaker but resolute. “The block not far from the Black Swan.”

Minho swears, his grip on Felix tightening. “You’ve lost too much blood to be makin’ sense, mate. You’re talkin’ about Fenian fuckin’ turf now.”

Felix grits his teeth against the pain and snaps, “I got someone there.”

“Someone?” Jisung echoes incredulously. “What, some girl you’re keepin’ tucked away? You’re gonna get yourself killed for a-”

“Shut it, Jisung,” Felix cuts him off, his eyes flashing despite the pain. “I said I got someone who can patch me up, and you two are gonna take me there before I fuckin’ bleed to death.”

Minho curses under his breath, his jaw tight. “This is a shite idea, Felix.”

“So was smokin' opium before stealin’ the fuckin’ crate,” Felix mutters, his voice weaker now. "We grabbed the wrong one"

“That was your idea!” Jisung hisses, his face a mix of frustration and worry.

“Doesn’t matter whose fuckin’ idea it was,” Minho growls, shooting Jisung a glare. “The coppers are probably sniffin’ around, and Felix here looks like he’s about two minutes from keelin’ over.”

“Then let’s move,” Felix grunts.

Jisung looks like he wants to argue, but he bites his tongue and nods, his hands flexing nervously around Felix’s arm. “We get spotted near that block, the Fenians’ll have us strung up. I hope you know what you’re doin’, Felix.”

Felix doesn’t answer. He just lets his head rest back against Minho’s shoulder, his body growing heavier with each step.

Minho swears again, louder this time. “Right. We’ll get you to the flats, but you owe me a new fuckin’ coat after this.”

Felix smirks faintly, his eyes fluttering. “Deal.”

“Don’t you fall asleep on us, mate,” Minho warns, shaking him slightly.

“I’m awake,” Felix mutters, though his voice sounds far away.

Jisung glances around nervously as they turn down a darker, narrower street. “We’re gonna regret this.”

“Shut it,” Minho snaps. “Keep your eyes open, and keep movin’. If Felix’s  someone doesn’t patch him up, we’ll be buryin’ him in a fuckin’ ditch by morning.”

Jisung falls quiet, and the three of them stumble forward into the shadowy maze of backstreets that wind toward the block of flats near the Black Swan. The sounds of the docks fade behind them, but the weight of the trouble they’ve stirred lingers heavy in the cold night air.

The clock ticks softly in the corner of your small living room, the steady rhythm filling the silence as you turn the pages of Pride and Prejudice. A cigarette burns between your fingers, its smoke curling lazily in the air.

The soft fabric of your green dress shifts against your legs as you lean back into the armchair, the heels on your feet tapping idly against the wooden floorboards. A dull ache still lingers in your cheekbone, and the split on your lip stings faintly when you purse your mouth, but you don’t think about that. 

You’re halfway through a particularly sharp exchange between Elizabeth and Darcy when a thunderous pounding rattles your front door.

You jolt upright, the cigarette nearly slipping from your fingers. Your brows knit together as the hammering continues, each knock loud and urgent, shaking the thin walls of your flat.

“Christ alive,” you mutter under your breath, stubbed cigarette hanging forgotten from your lips. 

When you pull open the door, the sight nearly knocks the breath out of you. Standing there under the dim hallway light are two men wearing razor-lined Peaky caps, holding up a third between them. The man in the middle, blood-soaked and pale as a sheet, is Lee Felix.

“Hey, angel,” Felix croaks with a faint, bloody smile.

You blink in surprise, momentarily stunned, before the softness returns to your face. “Hello, Felix.”

Jisung, the smaller of the two with wide, panicked eyes, gestures impatiently toward Felix with a tilt of his head. “He said to bring him here, to you, so here we fuckin’ are.”

Minho, the taller and sterner one, raises a brow, taking in the gentle smile on your face and the way Felix clings to consciousness. “So, you two are...acquainted?” He jerks his chin toward Felix. “Who’s the girl, Felix?”

Felix lets out a breathy chuckle, though it turns into a cough. “This angel here is Y/N.” He winces as the pain pulls at his wound. “Y/N, this is Minho and Jisung. Don’t let their sour faces fool you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Minho mutters.

You shake off the shock quickly, ushering them inside. “Come in, quick. And shut the bloody door before the whole building hears you.”

The moment they step into your modest flat, you spring into action, clearing the small dining table of books and ashtrays with practised speed. You grab the half-empty bottle of rum from your cabinet, tipping a generous splash over the table to sterilize it, cigarette still dangling between your fingers.

“Put him on the table,” you say firmly.

Minho and Jisung exchange a look before hauling Felix’s weight across the room. “Watch his fuckin’ head,” Minho snaps as they lay him down. Felix groans as his back hits the hard wood, his breaths shallow and laboured.

Jisung hovers, wringing his hands. “We were at the docks-”

"Please don’t tell me anythin’. I don’t want to know”

Jisung clamps his mouth shut, looking sheepish. “Right. Fair enough.”

You glance at Felix’s pale face, eyes flicking to the blood seeping through his shirt. “You’ve really done it this time,” you murmur softly.

Felix grins faintly. “Only because I knew you’d fix me up, angel.”

Minho and Jisung take off their caps, flopping onto your small couch without invitation. Minho pulls out a cigarette and lights it with a grunt, leaning back with a sigh. “This is cosy.”

You glance up briefly. “Biscuits are in the cupboard up there if you want some.”

Jisung perks up immediately. “Oh, bless you, darlin'.” He springs up, rushing to the cabinet to root through it like he owns the place.

You roll your eyes before focusing back on Felix. You grab a pair of scissors and cut open his shirt, the sound of tearing fabric filling the room. Felix hisses as the cold air hits his wound, but you’re already examining it with sharp, trained eyes.

“Can you patch me up?” Felix asks weakly, looking up at you.

You give him a small, reassuring smile, pressing a hand gently to his arm. “Of course I can. I did it in France, didn’t I?”

Felix manages a faint smirk despite his pallor.

You grab the rum again and pour it straight onto the wound without warning. Felix arches sharply off the table with a shout, his teeth gritting. “Fuckin’ hell!”

“Stay still,” you say gently, though there’s no room for argument.

Felix’s breathing grows uneven, his hands clenching at nothing. You stride quickly to the stove, turning on the gas and grabbing one of your old kitchen knives. The faint hiss of the flame fills the room as you hold the blade over it, watching the metal glow.

From the couch, Minho squints at you. “What the fuck are you doin’ now?”

Felix groans faintly. “She’s gonna cauterize it.”

Jisung, halfway through his third biscuit, freezes mid-bite. “She’s gonna what?”

“This is gonna fuckin’ hurt,” Felix mutters.

You glance back at him, soft but firm. “Yes, it is. So prepare yourself.”

You grab a clean rag from the cabinet, placing it gently but firmly in Felix’s mouth. “Bite on that. And don’t you dare scream the whole building down.”

Felix meets your eyes, his gaze steady despite the sweat dripping down his temple. He swallows hard as you step back to his side. “Here,” you murmur, offering him your free hand.

Felix grips it tightly, his knuckles white as he prepares himself.

The knife in your other hand glows red-hot, the sharp edge blurred by the heat. You bring it down with precision, pressing it firmly to the wound.

Felix screams into the rag, his body jerking violently against the table. The smell of burning flesh fills the air, sharp and metallic. Minho and Jisung glance over, both grimacing as Felix’s muffled cries ring out.

“It’s alright, Felix,” you murmur. “Just a bit longer now.”

Felix squeezes your hand tighter, tears springing to the corners of his eyes as you finish the cauterization. When it’s done, you pull the knife back, tossing it into the basin with a clatter.

“There,” you say softly, pulling the rag from his mouth. “It’s over.”

Felix’s chest heaves as he slumps back against the table, his hand still gripping yours weakly. “Jesus...fuckin’...Christ.”

You offer him a small smile as you begin to wrap the wound with clean bandages. “Told you I could fix you.”

You finish bandaging Felix up with careful hands, the sound of his shallow breaths filling the quiet of the flat. Minho and Jisung, sprawled on your small couch, smoke their cigarettes like they haven’t a care in the world despite the chaos outside. You straighten up, wiping your hands on a rag, and glance at them.

“Alright,” you say, folding your arms. “Are you gonna be alright gettin’ him home?”

Felix’s head turns slightly on the table, his voice rough but clear enough. “About that…” he pauses, catching his breath. “Uh, can we lie low here for a few hours?”

You blink, surprised.

“I’ll pay you,” Felix adds quickly. “For your time and for patchin’ me up.”

Jisung nods, flicking ash onto the floor. “We’re too close to Fenian turf right now, love. If we step outside, we’re liable to get our heads kicked in. We’d be outnumbered.”

You look between the three of them. Felix, pale and sweat-slicked, Minho blowing smoke like he’s in his own bloody living room, and Jisung perched on the arm of the couch like a stray cat. You sigh softly, a faint smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

“Sure,” you say, leaning back against the table. “You can stay as long as you need. Just don’t be makin’ a mess of the place, alright?”

Jisung grins and Minho nods in approval.

Felix exhales in relief, his hand settling over his stomach. “You’re an angel.”

You shake your head fondly, stepping closer to him as he pants quietly, his eyes fluttering shut. His hair sticks to his damp forehead, and instinctively, you reach down, brushing it back with gentle fingers. His eyelids flicker open, warm brown eyes locking onto yours.

“What happened to your face?” he murmurs, his voice soft but edged with concern.

You freeze for a moment before forcing a small smile. “Nasty client.”

Felix frowns deeply, his gaze narrowing as his hand moves up to you. Before you can stop him, his thumb brushes gently over your split lip. The touch is soft, far more tender than it has any right to be, and it sends a pang through your chest.

“I want a name,” he says, low and serious.

“It’s not that big of a deal, Felix,” you reply quietly, pulling back slightly.

Felix’s jaw tenses, his voice firm. “Name.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes. You know he won’t let it go. “That guy who works at the docks. The one whose wife went to the nuthouse after givin’ birth. He’s got a scar runnin’ through his lip.” You pause, your voice dry. “Didn’t pay for his time neither.”

Jisung stops mid-chew, his mouth still half full of biscuits, and frowns. Without a word, he reaches into his coat pocket, pulls out a wad of cash, and thrusts it toward you.

You blink at the offering. “What’s this for?”

“Compensation,” Jisung says simply. “For that bastard.”

You hesitate before taking it, shaking your head. “You lot are somethin’ else, I swear. Thank you.”

Felix glances over toward Jisung. “You’re payin’ that prick a visit tomorrow, yeah?”

Jisung shrugs, nonchalant, like it’s just another item on his to-do list. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll sort him out. Don’t worry about it.”

“Good.” Felix’s voice drops low, dangerous even as he lies there half-dead on your table. He lets his head fall back again, his gaze lingering on you.

The silence is broken when Minho pipes up, his tone blunt and cutting through the air. “So, are you a whore?”

“Oi,” Felix snaps, his eyes blazing as he jerks his head up. “Watch your fuckin’ mouth, Minho.”

You hold up a hand before Felix can say anything more, your voice calm and even. “It’s alright.” You glance at Minho, unbothered. “Yeah. Not much use for a war nurse when there’s no war anymore, is there?”

Minho shrugs, seemingly satisfied with your answer, and blows out a long stream of smoke.

Jisung, surprisingly quieter than usual, speaks up. “So, is that how you met Felix, then?”

You nod slowly, a small smile tugging at your lips as your gaze flicks to Felix. “Yeah. Felix is one of the few good ones.”

Felix hums softly, smiling faintly despite the exhaustion in his eyes. “Actually met her in France, y’know. But that’s a story for another time.”

The room is quiet for a moment, save for the occasional creak of the floorboards and the hiss of Minho’s cigarette burning.

With Minho and Jisung settling into their cigarettes on your worn-out couch, you turn your attention back to Felix. He’s pale as a sheet, the blood loss catching up with him, and even though his breathing has evened out slightly, you can tell he’s struggling.

“Alright, Felix,” you say softly, brushing your hands against your dress. “Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable before you pass out on me.”

He grunts softly, trying to sit up as you help him off the table. He’s heavier than he looks, leaning on you with most of his weight. “I’m alright, angel. I got this.”

“Shut up,” you mutter gently. “You’re about as sturdy as a sack of potatoes right now.”

He chuckles faintly, his arm slinging around your shoulder as you guide him toward your bedroom. You take it slow, your heels clicking softly against the floor, every now and then catching him as he stumbles. Minho glances up as you pass, but you wave him off.

By the time you get him through the door and onto the edge of your bed, he’s panting faintly, sweat slicking his brow again. You help him ease back onto the mattress, fluffing the pillow behind his head as he exhales shakily.

“It’s lucky I like you, Lee Felix,” you tease softly, sitting down beside him on the edge of the bed. “I was readin’ Pride and Prejudice when you decided to bang on my door.”

A faint smile pulls at his lips, though his eyes are still half-closed. “Sorry, angel. I know how much you like readin’ your books.”

You smile despite yourself, gently smoothing a strand of his damp hair away from his face. “You’re lucky I’m sweet on you, or I’d have thrown you lot straight back out into the street.”

Felix’s warm hand suddenly reaches out, catching yours. His grip is gentle, but there’s a desperation in the way he holds onto you, thumb brushing softly over your knuckles. You look down at him, startled by the intensity in his gaze.

“Why won’t you marry me?” Felix asks, his voice quiet but steady.

Your heart skips a beat. “Felix...”

“No,” he cuts in softly, his voice rough around the edges but insistent. “I want to know. I’ve asked before. I’m askin’ again. Why won’t you?”

You sigh quietly, your free hand resting in your lap as you look down at him. “Felix, you know why.”

He shakes his head, not letting go of your hand. “Say it. I want to hear it from you.”

You meet his gaze, your voice barely above a whisper. “Because neither of us leads safe lives.”

Felix’s jaw tightens for a moment before he speaks, his voice calm but firm. “I’d keep you safe. You know I would, angel. You know I’d kill for you if I had to.”

Your chest tightens at the earnest look in his eyes. He means it, every word, and that’s what makes it harder. “And what if you don’t come back one day, Felix? What then?”

“I will,” he replies stubbornly, his hand squeezing yours. “I always come back.”

“You can’t promise me that,” you murmur, but the words lack conviction.

Felix’s lips tug into the faintest smile, his gaze softening. “Then let me promise you somethin’ else. I’ll keep you safe, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure I come back to you. I’m not a good man but I’d be good for you.”

The words settle heavily in the quiet room. You take a deep breath, your thumb brushing over the back of his hand.

“I’ll think about it,” you say softly.

Felix’s brows lift slightly. “Promise?”

You nod, your smile faint but sincere. “I promise.”

Felix exhales, the tension leaving his body as a tired grin spreads across his face. “That’s good enough for me, angel.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks. His eyes flutter closed, and his breathing slows, your hand still tucked gently in his. You stay there, perched on the edge of the bed, watching him rest.

You’ve always been sweet on Lee Felix, more than you’d care to admit. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll think about it after all.

The cobbled streets of Small Heath glisten faintly under the weak evening light, leftover rain pooling in the cracks. Felix walks with a steady but deliberate stride, flanked by Minho on his right and Jisung on his left. The three of them are heading to the Garrison, the Peaky Blinders’ stomping ground.

“You know,” Jisung says suddenly, his hands stuffed into his pockets, “you’ve been seein’ that lovely lady of yours for nearly a year now, right? Since the war ended?”

Felix stiffens slightly, side-eyeing Jisung. “Shut the fuck up.”

Minho chuckles under his breath, looking amused. “It’s a fair question. You did say last night that you met her in France, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Felix mutters, his voice clipped. “Now stop askin’ me fuckin’ questions I ain’t gonna answer.”

Jisung huffs, pulling a face. “Miserable bastard.”

Felix shoots him a glare. “Twat.”

The three of them keep walking, boots smacking against the wet cobblestones. The Garrison’s golden light comes into view up ahead, the hum of life and noise spilling faintly from behind its doors. As they push inside, the smell of beer and cigarettes hits them like a wall.

The regular crowd is scattered throughout the pub, but Felix doesn’t slow. He leads Minho and Jisung through the haze of smoke and noise to the back room where Bang Chan and the rest of the Peaky boys are waiting.

Chan is perched at the head of the table, a cigarette dangling loosely from his lips as he looks up, dark eyes narrowing. “Where the fuck have you three been?”

Jisung immediately takes centre stage, his grin sharp and boyish as he leans against the doorframe. “Well, after Felix here got himself stabbed last night, we took him to meet his lady friend who patched him up. Sweet girl, that one.”

Felix groans, rolling his head back against the doorframe. “Shut the fuck up. You don’t know shit, Jisung.”

Jisung snickers, undeterred. “What I do know is that Felix here’s a proper gentleman for this particular prostitute.”

The words hang in the air for a moment.

Hyunjin, leaning lazily in a chair with his feet propped up on the table, bursts out laughing. “That’s where you’ve been slippin’ off to? Gettin’ your dick wet?”

Felix rolls his eyes and mutters, “Jesus fuckin’ Christ…”

“Oi, don’t look so sour,” Jisung pipes up, grinning wide. “He calls her angel, you know. To be honest, prettiest girl I’ve seen in a long time.”

Minho nods approvingly, reaching for the bottle of whiskey on the table. “I’ll fuckin’ drink to that.”

Changbin leans forward, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “What, mate, you tired of women throwin’ themselves at you, so you’re payin’ for it now?”

Felix throws him a flat, unimpressed look. “You’re all a bunch of arseholes.”

Seungmin, ever the one to stir the pot, pipes up, his voice edged with sarcasm. “Don’t tell me you’re in love with her, Felix. She’s a prostitute.”

Felix’s head snaps up, his glare sharp as a blade. “Shut the fuck up before I cut your tongue out of your head.”

“Oh, come on,” Seungmin scoffs, waving a hand dismissively. “You’re in love with a whore? She can probably tell you’re sweet on her and is playin’ up to it so you’ll keep payin’ her.”

The room goes quiet for a beat, the tension thick enough to choke on. Felix pushes off the wall, stepping forward, his eyes blazing. “She ain’t like that, you fuckin’ gobshite. None of you know her, so shut your mouths.”

Chan raises a hand, his calm, measured voice cutting through the silence. “That’s enough.” His sharp gaze sweeps across the room, lingering on Seungmin before landing on Felix. “If Felix loves a whore, he loves a whore. His choice.”

The room relaxes slightly, though Felix still stands taut, his fists clenching at his sides. Minho, sitting back with a glass in hand, offers a shrug. “She’s a nice girl, minus the whole fuckin’ half of Small Heath for money thing.”

Changbin snorts, leaning back in his chair. “Is this why you go around cuttin’ up half the men in Small Heath, Felix? Because they’re fuckin’ your lady?”

Jisung shakes his head, his tone serious now. “Nah. It’s because they’re smackin’ her about and not payin’ her. Her face was busted up yesterday when Minho and I met her.”

That shuts Changbin up quick. Hyunjin raises an eyebrow, his usual teasing edge gone. “She got roughed up?”

“Yeah,” Jisung confirms, arms crossed, his grin gone. “Split lip. Bruise on her cheekbone. Bastards.”

Chan’s gaze sharpens. “Is that why there was a dead dockworker found in the Cut?”

Jisung raises his hand like a schoolboy. “That was me. Felix asked me to pay him a visit.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “I don’t like lady-beaters, so I went happily.”

Felix doesn’t say anything, but there’s a faint glint of approval in his eyes as he slouches back against the wall again, folding his arms over his chest.

Chan exhales a cloud of smoke, his expression unreadable. “Well. I can’t say I blame you.”

The room falls quiet for a moment, the only sound the faint hum of voices drifting from the main bar.

Felix finally speaks up, his voice softer now, but no less firm. “She ain’t just some whore to me.”

The room turns to him, but no one interrupts. Felix’s gaze is steady as he looks around at the group.

“She’s a good girl,” he says quietly, like he’s daring anyone to argue with him. “And she’s done more for me than most people ever have.”

Chan leans back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, and tilts his chin toward Felix. “Well then, let’s see this patch-up job, eh?”

Felix sighs, already knowing he won’t get out of this. “For fuck’s sake…” he mutters, but he stands up with a grunt, shrugging off his coat. He tosses it lazily onto the back of the chair before his fingers start working on the buttons of his vest. The room watches, waiting, as he undoes his shirt next, then carefully rolls up his undershirt to expose the bandages wrapped tightly around his torso.

Chan leans forward, squinting slightly as Felix sits back down and rests his hands on his thighs. The white bandages are clean, no trace of blood leaking through. That in itself is impressive. “Seungmin,” Chan says sharply. “Scissors.”

Seungmin flicks open his coat pocket, pulls out a small pair of scissors, and tosses them over the table to Chan. Chan catches them without looking, the blade flashing briefly in the low light.

“Sit still,” he says to Felix.

“I am still,” Felix grumbles, flinching just a little when Chan starts cutting through the bandages.

The fabric pulls away with a faint ripping sound, revealing the cauterized wound underneath. The skin around it is red and angry-looking, but the burn itself is neat and precise.

Chan lets out a low whistle, sitting back and tilting his head as he takes it in. “Well, I’ll be fucked. Your lady did a good job.”

Felix smirks faintly, his expression proud despite the lingering pain in his side. “She’s good at what she does.”

Chan raises an eyebrow. “Clearly.”

Felix rolls the undershirt back down, wincing slightly as he shifts in his seat. “She was in France, just like the rest of us,” he says, his voice quieter now. “War nurse. It’s how I met her. That shrapnel I took to the chest in the Somme? She’s the one who patched me up. Sat by my bedside and everything.” He pauses, a faint, faraway look in his eye. “All the soldiers loved her.”

Changbin grunts, leaning back in his chair and smirking. “A regular Florence fuckin’ Nightingale, huh?”

Felix doesn’t deny it, just shrugs and reaches for the bottle of whiskey in the centre of the table. “She’s got a good heart. Better than most.”

Minho leans forward, slinging one arm across the back of his chair, a lazy grin tugging at his lips. “Pretty as a picture, sweet as a songbird. Wore a green dress, looked nice on her.”

Jisung laughs, tapping his glass of whiskey against Minho’s with a smirk. “She’s got a face that belongs in the pictures. Could be a bloody movie star, that one.”

Hyunjin, perched casually with his boots up on the edge of the table, grins like a devil. “Well now we have to meet this lady of yours.”

Felix’s smile drops instantly, replaced with a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Not happenin’.”

Hyunjin raises a brow, his grin widening as he gestures to himself. “Worried she’ll fall for my beauty, mate?”

Felix snorts, unimpressed. “No. Just don’t want her meetin’ you pack of fools. She’s a nice girl. Classy.”

Seungmin scoffs, leaning forward with a crooked smirk. “How classy can she be if she’s spreadin’ her legs for half the city?”

Felix’s glare snaps to Seungmin, his entire body tensing as he fixes him with a look that could kill. “Say that again"

Seungmin shrugs, unbothered. “Relax, Felix. I’m just sayin’.”

Jeongin, who’d been quietly nursing a beer in the corner, pipes up softly. “I think it’s sweet, actually.”

Changbin laughs loudly, slapping his hand against the table. “Of course you do. Our soft Innie.”

Jeongin rolls his eyes and grumbles, “Piss off, Changbin.”

Felix sits back again, shaking his head in frustration. “Listen here, none of you pricks are meetin’ her. The only reason Jisung and Minho saw her at all was ‘cause I was bleedin’ out, and she knows what she’s doin’. That’s the end of it.”

The room falls quiet for a beat as the boys exchange looks, smirks hidden behind cigarettes and whiskey glasses.

Hyunjin breaks the silence first, his tone sing-song and teasing. “Felix has gone soft on us, lads.”

“Say what you want,” Felix mutters, pouring himself a drink. “Doesn’t fuckin’ matter.”

Chan watches him carefully, his sharp gaze unwavering. “You trust her, then?”

Felix nods once, firm. “With my life.”

No one argues after that.

It’s early morning, and the pale light filtering through the curtains turns the room a soft grey. You sit at your brand-new dining table, the rich mahogany smooth under your fingers as you absentmindedly trace a groove along its edge. Felix had marched in with the damned thing two weeks ago, stubborn as ever, claiming he wasn’t going to let you keep “that bloodstained piece of shit” after he’d bled out all over it. You’d told him you didn’t mind, but he wouldn’t hear it.

Now, it’s your favourite spot in the flat. You sit there quietly, cigarette between your fingers, the thin line of smoke curling lazily toward the ceiling. A steaming cup of tea sits beside you as you thumb through the worn pages of Little Women. The words blur slightly as you lose yourself in the story, a soft hum of peace settling over the room.

And then your door is kicked in.

The splintering crack of wood jolts you out of your thoughts. The door smashes open with enough force to rattle the frame, and the heavy thuds of boots follow immediately after. Four uniformed police officers spill into your flat like a pack of wolves, their faces hard and eyes sharp.

You don’t flinch. You don’t even move. You just take another slow drag of your cigarette and exhale softly, letting the smoke drift toward the ceiling.

The men start tearing apart your flat immediately. Books tossed off shelves, cushions ripped off chairs, drawers pulled out and dumped unceremoniously onto the floor. The sound of it is deafening.

You finally speak, your voice calm and even, as if discussing the weather. “If you’re lookin’ for somethin’, you can just tell me, and I’ll help you find it.”

One of the officers pauses long enough to glare at you. “Not your fuckin’ business what we’re lookin’ for.”

“Alright, then,” you reply, unbothered, turning another page in your book. “Suit yourselves.”

A heavy thud makes you look up sharply. The flat has gone quiet save for the slow tap of a cane against your wooden floor. A tall man strides in, his polished shoes clicking crisply with each step. He’s older, with silver streaking through his dark hair, and his sharp suit speaks to someone with authority. He removes his hat and nods at you with an unsettling politeness.

“Inspector Park,” he says smoothly, the cane tapping as he moves toward you. “Miss L/N, correct?”

You meet his gaze, your expression still soft despite the chaos around you. “That’s me,” you say with a faint nod.

He hums as if satisfied, then turns to the officers. “Grab her.”

Two of the uniformed men step toward you, rough hands clamping down on your arms and hauling you up out of the chair. Your cigarette falls from your fingers, landing on the floor with a faint hiss.

“Oi, watch the tea,” you say dryly, wincing at the tight grip.

Inspector Park steps closer, his shadow falling over you. He reaches out, his gloved hand gripping your chin firmly and tilting your face upward to look at him. His dark eyes scan your face as if searching for something. “Where are the guns?” he asks, his voice steady and cold.

Your brow furrows slightly, confusion flickering across your face. “What guns?”

The question earns you a sharp slap across the mouth. The crack of his palm against your skin rings out in the quiet, the force of it turning your head to the side. A sharp, metallic taste fills your mouth as blood trickles from the corner of your split lip.

“Where are the guns?” he repeats, his voice unchanging.

You turn back to face him, unflinching despite the sting, your eyes meeting his steadily. “What guns?”

Inspector Park stares at you for a long moment, his hand gripping your face again, thumb brushing across the split on your lip almost mockingly. His eyes narrow slightly as he studies you.

Then he hums, low and thoughtful. “Hmm… You don’t know, do you?”

You blink. “Know what?”

The corners of his mouth twitch slightly, as if suppressing a smirk. He lets go of your face abruptly, turning back toward the men still tossing your flat. “Alright,” he says. “Let her go.”

The officers release you, their rough hands falling away as you straighten your dress with quiet dignity, ignoring the blood on your mouth. Inspector Park places his hat back on his head, adjusting it carefully before speaking again.

“I’ll be back with more questions, Miss L/N.”

You offer him the faintest of smiles, sweet and steady. “I’ll have biscuits and tea ready and waitin’ for you, Inspector Park.”

There’s a flicker of something in his expression, annoyance, perhaps, but he doesn’t respond. He taps his cane sharply against the floor, signalling to the officers, and they follow him out, leaving your flat in shambles.

You stand there in the centre of the wreckage, cigarette still smouldering on the floor and your tea cold on the table. You take a deep breath, smoothing your hands down your dress, and murmur to no one in particular:

“Rude bastards.”

Your hands shake slightly as you reach for your cream coat, pulling it from the hook near the door. It settles over your shoulders, the soft fabric a small comfort in the chaos left behind by Inspector Park and his thugs. You glance down at your blue dress, smoothing it as best you can before bending to pull on your matching cream heels, wincing slightly as the motion tugs at your already aching lip.

Blood drips slowly from the cut, leaving faint crimson streaks down your chin. The bastard’s signet ring left a deeper mark than you’d thought. You press your fingertips to the wound briefly, hissing softly at the sting, before slipping on your cream gloves.

On your way to the small stand by the door, you grab your clutch and slide the switchblade Felix gave you into your coat pocket. You never thought you’d actually carry the thing, but after what just happened, it feels like an extra layer of armour. Felix had handed it to you weeks ago, muttering, “Just in case, angel,” and now you find yourself silently thanking him.

The door groans on its hinges as you pull it closed behind you, unable to latch it properly after it had been kicked in. As you glance over the landing, you notice other flats being stormed, doors thrown open, officers pushing their way inside. Women yell in protest, children cry, and belongings, clothes, photographs, dishes, are strewn carelessly onto the stairs and into the hall.

You swallow hard, keeping your head down as you make your way toward the staircase. A sharp pang runs through your lip as you press your gloved hand against it again, catching another small drop of blood before it falls. Your feet hurry down the creaking stairs, heels clicking against the wood, each step a little faster than the last.

The streets of Small Heath are no better than the building you left behind. You keep your shoulders back and head high as you weave through the alleys, cutting across familiar roads until Watery Lane looms ahead. It’s quieter here, the noise of the raids lingering in the distance, but the tension in the air is unmistakable.

As you approach the heart of Peaky Blinder territory, you spot a black car rumbling down the street, its wheels kicking up dust from the cobbled road. You pause on the pavement, tucking your hands into your coat pockets, watching as it slows.

From a distance, you can see Felix. He’s in the back seat, his face shadowed but unmistakable. Bang Chan is driving, his hands firm on the wheel, with Minho beside him in the passenger seat. In the back with Felix are Jeongin and Changbin, all of them looking out at the mess the police have left behind, homes torn apart, belongings littered across doorsteps.

Felix’s eyes flick toward you almost instantly, as if he’s been scanning the streets for someone. When he spots you, his entire posture changes. Without a word, he shoves Changbin aside, earning a muffled complaint, and climbs over him to get to the door.

“What the fuck?” Changbin grumbles as Felix hops out of the moving car.

Felix slams the door behind him, ignoring the curses thrown his way as he strides across the street, his boots crunching against the gravel. You stop where you are, frozen as his hands come up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing ever-so-gently across the cut on your lip.

“Christ,” he murmurs, his brows furrowing deeply as he takes in the injury. “What happened, angel? Who did this?”

Before you can answer, Changbin leans halfway out of the car window, grinning like a devil. “So, Felix,” he calls, “you gonna introduce us, or what?”

Chan, still at the wheel, smirks. “Yeah, you’ve never jumped out of the car before. Lazy fuck.”

Minho leans back with a grin, turning to face the others. “That’s Felix’s Florence Nightingale.”

Jeongin cranes his neck from the back seat, wide-eyed as he takes you in. “Oh, you and Jisung were right,” he says softly. “She is pretty as a picture.”

Minho throws an arm across the seat, his grin smug. “I’m always right.”

Felix groans softly, his hands reluctantly falling away from your face as he turns to glare back at the car. “You lot are insufferable.” He exhales, gesturing lazily. “Angel, meet Changbin, Chan, and Jeongin. Obviously, you already met Minho the other night.”

You smile politely, despite the blood on your lip. “Nice to meet you three,” you say softly, then glance at Minho. “And nice to see you again, Minho.”

Minho tips his cap with a small, easy smile. “Pleasure, love.”

Felix rolls his eyes, but the tension hasn’t fully left his face. “So,” he mutters, his voice low, “what happened? Was it another client?”

You shake your head slowly, looking past him toward the car. “I think this is a discussion I need to have with him.” You tilt your chin toward Chan, who’s watching the scene unfold with an unreadable expression.

Chan’s eyes narrow slightly, but he nods, seeming to understand as he climbs out of the car. “Felix, drive the car back. I’ll walk with her.���

Felix hesitates, his jaw clenching. “You sure?”

“I’m sure,” Chan replies firmly. “Get the others back to the shop.”

Felix grits his teeth but relents, stepping back. “Alright. Bring her to the bettin’ shop once you’re done talkin’.”

Chan nods, already climbing out of the car as Felix heads back, grumbling to himself as he slips into the driver's seat.

You turn to face Chan, who offers his arm to you as you both begin walking down the street, his gesture smooth and gentlemanly despite the grim circumstances. You hesitate for only a moment before slipping your hand into the crook of his elbow. 

Reaching into your pocket, you pull out a cigarette, placing it between your lips. Before you can even fumble for a match, Chan produces a lighter from his coat pocket, flicking it open with a click. The flame flares to life, and he holds it up for you, his gaze steady.

You lean in slightly, letting the cigarette catch, inhaling deeply before straightening up with a soft “Thank you.”

Chan nods wordlessly, tucking the lighter back into his pocket as the two of you walk in the direction of the cut, his boots crunching faintly against the gravel. The noise of the streets begins to fade behind you, replaced by the distant lapping of water and the faint calls of the morning hawkers.

“My flat block got raided,” you say softly, breaking the silence. Smoke drifts lazily from your lips as you glance at him.

Chan doesn’t react right away, but his brow furrows slightly. “Raided?”

You nod. “But an inspector came to my flat.”

Chan’s steps falter for the briefest second, but he recovers quickly. “An inspector?”

“Yeah,” you reply, flicking ash off the end of your cigarette. “Tall man. Walked with a cane. Polite enough, but a fuckin’ brute when he wanted to be.”

Chan’s jaw tightens faintly, his eyes darkening as he processes that. “And what did he want?”

You pause, exhaling smoke into the crisp air. “He asked me about guns.”

Chan comes to an abrupt stop, his gaze snapping to yours. You keep walking a few steps ahead before turning to face him, one brow raised.

“I don’t know anything about any guns,” you continue calmly, holding his gaze, “but I figured you’d probably want to know, because I reckon you know exactly what guns the inspector’s talkin’ about.”

Chan stares at you for a long moment, the muscle in his jaw working as he thinks. Finally, he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Fuckin’ hell.”

You both continue walking until you reach the cut. It’s quieter here, more private. Chan pulls out a cigarette of his own and lights it, leaning against the low stone wall that lines the water. The river reflects the grey sky above, rippling faintly in the breeze.

“What I’m about to tell you,” Chan says finally, his voice low and serious, “is only known by myself, Minho, Jisung, and Felix.”

You nod, understanding the weight of what he’s about to say.

Chan takes a long drag of his cigarette before speaking again, his gaze fixed on the water. “That night Felix got stabbed, they were stealin’ a shipment from the docks. Job was simple, or so we fuckin’ thought. Only they grabbed the wrong shipment.”

You tilt your head slightly, watching him as he talks.

“They got it to the BSA factory to hide it,” he continues, “and when they opened the crate, Minho, Jisung, and Felix found enough weaponry for a small fuckin’ army. Guns, ammunition. All bound for Libya. Then walkin' through the docks, Felix gets himself stabbed"

You blink, absorbing the information. Slowly, you nod, blowing out a stream of smoke. “So this inspector?”

Chan flicks ash from the end of his cigarette. “I’ve got coppers on my payroll, ones who hear things. He’s from Westminster. He’s been sent here with one purpose, retrieving those guns and makin’ sure anyone who knows about them swings.”

The faint sting of fear pricks at the back of your mind, but you keep your face calm. “So you’re the only ones who know?”

Chan nods once. “For now. I’ll only be tellin’ the trusted ones.”

You hum softly, taking another pull from your cigarette. “Well, this inspector,” you begin, your voice even, “I’ve been hearin’ about him. He avoided service, you know. That’s why they’ve shipped him off down here. He’s hated in Westminster.”

Chan raises an eyebrow, interest flickering across his face. “Oh?”

You nod, shrugging lightly. “A lot of coppers pass through my bed, Chan. One of ‘em told me three nights ago. They don’t like him. Not one fuckin’ bit.”

Chan takes a moment to process that before a faint smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Useful to know.”

Silence stretches between you briefly, both of you standing there smoking, the distant sound of the water filling the quiet. Finally, Chan glances at you, his expression thoughtful.

“How would you feel about bein’ under my employment?”

You arch a brow, a small, amused smile playing on your lips. “How so?”

“You keep doin’ what you do,” Chan replies, “and you tell me what you learn about Small Heath. Things that might concern me and the Peaky Blinders.”

You tilt your head, pretending to consider it. “And here I thought Bang Chan knew everything.”

Chan smirks faintly, the glint in his eye sharp. “I know most things, sweetheart, but there are some things a man will only tell after receivin’ the touch of a woman.”

You huff a soft laugh, taking one final drag from your cigarette before flicking it into the water. “Alright,” you say, crossing your arms. “What do I get?”

Chan doesn’t hesitate. “A steady wage on top of what you already earn. Anyone gets rough, the Blinders will deal with them.”

You nod slowly, your lips curling into a small smile. “Alright, Mr. Bang. You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Chan adjusts the cuff of his coat as he turns back toward Watery Lane, nodding for you to follow him. “Come on,” he says, his tone light but purposeful. “I’m gonna tell the rest of the boys about this shitshow. And while we’re there, might as well introduce you as the newest employee.”

You let out a small laugh and shake your head, slipping your arm back through his like before. “You don’t waste time, do you?”

“Time is a luxury we can’t afford, sweetheart,” Chan replies simply, glancing at you with that sharp gaze of his.

As you fall into step beside him, you glance up and ask softly, “So who are you tellin’, then?”

“Seungmin, Changbin, Hyunjin, and Jeongin,” he says, voice firm and steady. “Obviously, myself, Felix, Jisung, Minho, and now you are already in the know. All the other Blinders aren’t goin’ to hear a word about this. This has got to be kept quiet.”

You nod slowly, taking that in. “You think the inspector will come for you directly?”

Chan scoffs faintly, shaking his head. “He’s too smart for that. That’s why he’s shown up on your doorstep. Someone’s probably told him Felix’s a regular client of yours.” He pauses briefly, casting you a sideways glance. “And while we’re on the topic of Felix, you wanna tell me why one of my men is in such a tizzy over you?”

You smile faintly, pulling your coat a little tighter around yourself. “He wants to get married.”

Chan stops mid-stride, staring at you incredulously. “Well, I’ll be fucked.”

You laugh, unable to help yourself. “That’s about what I said.”

Chan’s expression shifts into a smirk, his brows raised as he starts walking again. “You’ve surprised me, sweetheart. And that doesn’t happen often.”

“Believe me,” you say, the cigarette dangling delicately from your lips as you speak, “I was surprised the first time he asked.”

“How many times has he asked?”

You shrug with a small, almost shy smile. “A few.”

Chan’s grin deepens. “And you don’t wanna marry him?”

“I do,” you admit quietly, eyes fixed ahead. “It’s just… it’s more complex than that.”

Chan hums thoughtfully, though he doesn’t push you for more. “I reckon it is.”

The two of you finally step onto Watery Lane, the bustling energy of the betting shop growing louder the closer you get. Men shout wagers, coins clatter against counters, and the general hum of Small Heath’s finest at work fills the air.

Chan gestures toward the shop, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “This is where the magic happens.”

You glance around, taking in the organized chaos of it all—the well-dressed men standing behind counters, the constant motion, the careful way it’s hidden behind the front of an ordinary house. “Felix tries to keep me away from all of this,” you say softly, an amused lilt to your tone.

Chan snorts, shaking his head. “Well, he’s gonna blow a fuckin’ bollock when he finds out you’re now on my payroll.”

You don’t have time to reply before Chan whistles sharply through his teeth, a short, commanding sound that cuts through the noise like a knife. Within seconds, Changbin, Seungmin, Felix, Jeongin, Jisung, Minho, and Hyunjin filter into the dining room at the back. The room is tucked neatly behind the main betting den, a trick to keep the real business hidden in plain sight.

You glance around, lips curling into an impressed smile. “Neat little trick.”

Chan smirks proudly. “I try.”

You settle into one of the wooden chairs at the dining table as the others filter in, pulling out chairs or leaning against the walls. Seungmin’s eyes narrow slightly as he gestures toward you with his chin. “Who’s this?”

Jisung wastes no time, grinning like a cat who caught a canary. “This is Felix’s lady friend, Y/N.”

Hyunjin grins widely, bowing slightly in your direction. “Oh? Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, darlin’.”

Felix groans softly, rolling his eyes as he drops into the seat next to you. “Give it a rest.”

Jisung, clearly enjoying himself, plops into the chair on your other side. “Nice to see you again, sweetheart,” he says with a teasing grin, leaning back comfortably.

Chan doesn’t waste time. He steps toward the head of the table, his voice firm. “She’s also our newest employee.”

Felix straightens sharply in his chair. “What?!”

Chan holds up a hand before Felix can explode. “I’ll explain why in a minute.” He gestures toward Hyunjin, Changbin, Seungmin, and Jeongin. “First, I gotta fill you four in on somethin’.”

Jeongin, ever the youngest but always calm, grabs a bottle of whiskey from the nearby shelf and begins pouring out glasses for everyone. He sets one down in front of you with a polite nod, the amber liquid swirling faintly in the glass.

You take a sip, flinching as the whiskey touches your split lip. Felix, noticing, pulls out his lighter, and without a word, he lights a cigarette and holds it out for you. You take it with a faint smile, murmuring a quiet, “Thank you.”

Chan leans his hands against the back of a chair, his sharp eyes sweeping across the table as the boys settle in. He doesn’t mince words, his voice low and steady, carrying a weight that silences the room instantly.

“Two weeks ago,” he begins, “Minho, Jisung, and Felix went to pick up a shipment from the docks. A simple job, should’ve been, anyway.” He glances briefly at the trio in question. “But these three idiots decided to puff on opium before they went. Isn’t that right?”

Minho shrugs nonchalantly, but Jisung grins sheepishly while Felix scowls at his boots, muttering under his breath.

“So,” Chan continues, ignoring them, “they grabbed the wrong shipment. When they opened it, machine guns, shotguns, grenades, any kind of weapon you’d find useful in a fuckin’ war.”

The room falls into a tense silence as the weight of the words settles on the group.

“Five days ago,” Chan adds, “an inspector showed up here in Small Heath.”

Seungmin, ever the pragmatist, leans forward with a frown. “He’s here to find the shipment?”

Chan’s jaw ticks as he straightens up. “I am the only person who knows where those guns are. And I’ll be the only person to ever know.”

Changbin snorts softly, glancing toward you with an arched brow. “Alright, so why’s she here, then?”

Chan turns his gaze on Changbin, voice sharp. “Because she can give me information I don’t have on the inspector.”

You lean back in your chair, cigarette perched between your gloved fingers as you speak. “The constable was one of my clients three nights ago. He told me the inspector arrived two days before that.”

Hyunjin whistles low, his grin fading as he crosses his arms. “He moves fast, then. Showin’ up five days ago and already raidin’ houses and flats this mornin’? That ain’t just quick. That’s planned.”

You nod, blowing out a thin line of smoke before continuing. “He’s a conscription avoider. Rumour is he busted his knee on purpose to dodge the war. No one in Westminster has a kind word to say about him, and the coppers down here aren’t much fonder. He’s been sent here to fix his reputation.”

The boys glance at each other as you pause. “He doesn’t find these guns? His career’s over.”

Chan nods approvingly. “This,” he says, gesturing to you, “is why she’s now on our payroll and under our protection. She’ll get a fair wage, and if anyone gets rough, we deal with them.”

You glance at Felix, whose smirk is as subtle as a brick through a window. “Inspector probably went for her ‘cause he knows Felix’s a regular,” Chan adds.

You sigh softly, offering a small, teasing smile as you murmur, “My most frequent client.”

Felix’s smirk widens, clearly pleased with himself.

“Right,” Chan says, cutting through the murmurs. “I want one of you to move into the flat next to hers.” His tone leaves no room for argument. “This inspector’s gonna keep gunnin’ for her. Won’t surprise me if he becomes a client himself to try and get close. It can’t be Felix.”

“I’ll do it,” Minho says, his voice calm and sure before anyone else can speak.

Chan nods once. “Good. You’re movin’ in tonight.”

You tilt your head, eyes flicking to Minho. “Any of you lot any good at fixin’ doors? Mine got busted when they kicked it in this mornin’.”

Minho raises a hand lazily. “I’ll fix that for you.”

You smile, gratitude softening your features. “Thank you.”

Minho pauses, then snorts, sitting back in his chair. “Wait. I just volunteered to hear Felix fuckin’ her at all hours.”

Felix’s smirk is immediate, his voice dripping with smugness. “Jealous?”

Seungmin, who’s been silent up until now, quirks a brow and mutters dryly, “And every other man in Small Heath, while we’re at it.”

Felix’s eyes snap toward Seungmin, the playful edge gone in an instant. “Seungmin, shut the fuck up.”

Seungmin rolls his eyes, clearly unimpressed. “Just statin’ the facts, mate.”

You hold up a hand, clearly amused despite yourself. “Boys,” you say softly, your voice cutting through the bickering like a gentle blade. “It’s been a long day, and I don’t need the lot of you fightin’ over what I do or don’t get up to in my own bed.”

That shuts them up quickly enough. Jisung snickers under his breath, but Minho nudges him sharply, and even Felix relents, though he mutters something you don’t catch.

Chan, who’s been watching the exchange with thinly veiled amusement, finally speaks again. “Alright, enough of that. Focus. We’ve got bigger things to deal with than Felix’s love life.”

Felix huffs quietly, but you can see the way his shoulders relax ever so slightly now that the attention has shifted away from you.

The smell of roast chicken and buttery potatoes lingers in the air as you set two plates down on the table, the dishes mismatched but charming all the same. The light of the single lamp casts a warm glow over the small flat, turning the edges of your blue dress into soft ripples of fabric as you move. Your hair is pinned up messily, stray curls falling around your face, but you don’t mind. The front door creaks faintly, sturdy once again after Minho’s handiwork earlier that evening.

Minho, seated across from you, cuts into the roast chicken with a satisfied grunt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his cap tossed onto the chair beside him. “You know,” he starts, mouth half-full, “this whole neighbour thing ain’t too bad if I’m gonna be gettin’ home-cooked meals like this.”

You laugh softly, taking a sip of water before replying. “Only if you keep chippin’ in for the groceries. Food doesn’t pay for itself, Minho.”

He smirks, holding up his fork in surrender. “Fair enough. That’s a deal.” He chews thoughtfully for a moment before glancing at you. “Felix said you was in France too.”

You nod, twirling your fork through a bite of potatoes. “Yeah. Nurse at the Somme.” You pause for a moment, the memories brushing against you like a cold wind. “That’s where I met Felix. Shrapnel to his chest. He was brought to the ward where I was workin’. My ward…” Your voice lowers slightly. “It was called the Final Destination.”

Minho raises an eyebrow at that. “Sounds fuckin’ grim.”

You offer a faint, sad smile. “It was. Soldiers named it that themselves. Most of ‘em didn’t leave it alive.” You take a breath. “They called me their angel in white. I’d hold their hands, tell ‘em stories to distract ‘em. Most of them died.” You look down briefly before meeting his gaze again. “Felix was one of the ones I managed to save.”

Minho sets his fork down, leaning back in his chair with a low whistle. “We all thought Felix was a goner, y’know. Seungmin and Hyunjin dragged him off the battlefield, chunk of shrapnel buried right in his chest, blood everywhere. The rest of us were shootin’ like mad bastards just to cover ‘em.”

“I remember when he came in,” you say softly, staring at your plate as if seeing the past instead. “He was a fuckin’ mess. Barely conscious, covered in mud and blood.” You smile faintly, shaking your head. “And you know what the first thing he started doin’ was?”

Minho raises an eyebrow, smirking. “What?”

“Flirtin’,” you say with a small laugh. “Said I was heaven-sent just for him.”

Minho lets out a loud bark of laughter, shaking his head. “That fuckin’ sounds like Felix. Romantic bastard, even with one foot in the grave.”

You chuckle, a soft warmth settling in your chest as you remember.

Minho picks up his fork again, grinning as he points it at you. “So are you why Felix fuckin’ reads now? ‘Cause I’ve known that man since we were lads, and he’s never so much as looked at a book. I was pretty sure the bastard couldn’t even read. But now, the fucker’s readin’ Jane Austen and Emily Brontë and shit.”

You laugh again, the sound light and easy. “Probably. I read a lot, always have. When he was in the ward in France, I’d recite him quotes while he was in and out of consciousness. Maybe it stuck.”

Minho snorts, shaking his head with a grin. “Felix, readin’ Austen. Unbelievable.”

The mood shifts slightly, and his tone lowers. “Did you see any combat?”

You pause for a moment, twirling the edge of your napkin between your fingers. “Some. One time, a whole group of field medics got took out. They asked for volunteers to go out on the field. Nurses stepped up. I was one of them.”

Minho frowns, clearly caught off guard. “You went out on the field?”

You nod. “We tucked our hair into our helmets, put on oversized medic uniforms. They gave us all guns like we had any fuckin’ idea how to use the bastard things.” You chuckle bitterly. “I didn’t even know how to load it properly. Still don’t.”

Minho shakes his head, visibly impressed. “You’ve got some guts, I’ll give you that.”

You smile softly and shrug. “You do what you’ve got to do.”

Minho takes another bite before looking up again. “So, how’d Felix end up becomin’ a regular?”

“Well,” you start, setting your fork down as you lean back slightly, “he figured from my accent that I was from Birmingham. He promised to come find me after the war was over. And he did.”

Minho’s eyebrows shoot up. “He did?”

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Showed up on my doorstep Christmas Eve, just after the war ended. Bladed cap on his head, gun at his waist, and that smirk of his plastered all over his face.”

Minho chuckles. “Sounds about right.”

“By then, I’d already started workin’ as a prostitute. He didn’t judge or nothin’. Just sat and had tea with me.” You pause, smile softening. “And then he became my most frequent client. We don’t even fuck half the time. Sometimes we drink tea, and I read to him, or we talk. But he always pays for my time.”

Minho’s fork pauses mid-air, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and laughter. “Wait. Felix sits and drinks tea and talks?”

“Sometimes,” you tease, smirking faintly. “We get real posh and have biscuits before we fuck.”

Minho snorts so loudly he nearly chokes, laughing as he sets his fork down. “Jesus Christ. That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day.”

You grin, taking another sip of water.

Minho shakes his head, still chuckling. “I see why he fuckin’ hid you all this time. You’re a diamond, y’know that?”

You tilt your head slightly, curious. “None of you knew?”

“Not a fuckin’ clue,” Minho admits. “I mean, we all figured he was seein’ some bird, but this…” He gestures around the flat with his fork. “This is not what I expected. Didn’t expect him to tell us to bring him to some pretty woman’s flat to get patched up, either.”

You smile softly. “Well, you save a man from death, he’s gonna trust you to patch him up again.”

Minho nods, a grin tugging at his lips. “Fair enough.”

The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence for a moment, the sound of the flat settling around you. Minho finishes off the last bite of his dinner, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. “You’re alright.”

You smile as you begin clearing the dishes. “You’re not so bad yourself, Minho.”

And for once, the night feels calm. Peaceful, even.

Two months have passed since Minho moved into the flat next door to you, following Chan's orders. In that time, the uneasy silence that had once hung between you and Minho has turned into something more comfortable. He’s become one of your closest friends, and the bond you’ve developed over quiet conversations and shared meals has built a trust between the two of you. He’d never admit it out loud, but you’ve managed to break through his tough exterior.

Tonight, Minho lounges in his flat, sprawled out on the couch with his legs stretched lazily across the cushions. A cigarette dangles from his lips as he reads Pride and Prejudice. A request from you, of course. You’d begged him to read it, and he’d agreed.

“You’re makin’ me a bloody bookworm,” he’d grumbled when you first handed him the book. “But fine, I’ll read it.”

Now, two months later, he’s getting surprisingly invested in the story, his eyes scanning the pages as the words pull him in. He leans back further into the cushions, his fingers flicking the ash off the end of his cigarette as he moves through the chapters. Despite his tough exterior, there’s something about the way Elizabeth Bennet handles Darcy’s arrogance that seems to amuse him, and he’s enjoying it more than he expected.

But as he reads, a faint sound catches his attention. A soft murmur from the other side of the thin wall that separates his flat from yours. He shifts slightly, his ear straining to hear.

It’s you.

Your voice, gentle and soothing, drifts through the walls, but it’s not the usual low murmurs you share with your regular clients. There’s no grunting or heavy breathing, no hints of the usual physicality that comes with a visit. Instead, it’s calm. Too calm.

Minho’s eyes flick up from the book, his cigarette momentarily forgotten. He listens carefully, catching bits and pieces of the conversation. Your tone is patient, comforting, almost maternal as you speak to someone, but not in the way you usually do with your clients. This is different.

Shell shock, Minho thinks, his mind clicking into place. You’ve had other men like this. Men who couldn’t bring themselves to be touched, men who needed someone to listen, to talk to. He’s never really asked you about it, but he knows, from the way you’ve subtly mentioned it, that you’ve had your share of war-torn souls, men who came back from the frontlines broken, needing someone to hold the pieces together.

He shifts uncomfortably on the couch, closing the book as he leans forward, listening intently.

He hears you again, your voice soft but firm. “I know it’s hard, love. You’re not alone. I’ll be here to listen, alright? You don’t need to say anything if you don’t want to.”

Minho’s gut tightens. He knows enough to recognize the signs of shell shock. The symptoms, the disassociation, the silence that follows when a man’s mind can’t make sense of the horrors he’s seen. It’s the kind of thing that can make a man flip without warning, and Minho knows you’re too kind-hearted to turn them away.

You continue talking, but Minho can’t quite make out the rest. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is the tone you use, the soft empathy that fills your words. You’ve dealt with men like this before, he knows that much. But it doesn’t stop him from feeling protective.

Minho stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray with more force than necessary. His eyes flick toward the door, debating whether to check in, but then he hears your voice again, low and steady, easing whatever tension had been building.

“You’re safe here,” you say, and Minho feels a small knot in his chest loosen. “Just take a deep breath. You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

He leans back again, but his eyes remain trained on the door. He knows you can handle yourself. Hell, you’ve been through worse than this. But still, he can’t shake the nagging feeling that one of these days, things might tip over the edge.

Minho picks up the book again but doesn’t read, his thoughts lingering on the conversation next door. He knows that, sometimes, the men you help aren’t in any state to be helped. It’s a fine line you walk, and he worries, more than he wants to admit, that one of them might cross it.

He flicks through the pages idly, not really reading, but still keeping his ear trained on the walls. He’s waiting. Waiting for any sign of trouble. Shell-shocked men can flip on a dime, and Minho knows that better than most. You don’t need to be touched to snap. Sometimes, it’s just the sound of a voice or a sudden memory that drags a man back into the horrors of war.

His fingers tighten around the book, his mind racing, but the sound from the other side of the wall stays calm. You’re still talking to him, still reassuring him, and the tension slowly eases from Minho’s shoulders.

Minho exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair. “Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters under his breath. He goes back to the book, forcing himself to focus again. But there’s no denying the soft spot you’ve managed to carve into his hardened exterior.

Minho’s eyes flick to the door as a sudden crash echoes from next door. The sound is harsh, unnervingly violent, followed by a gasp from your voice, strained and panicked.

“Calm down, Eun,” you plead, your voice trembling, a tinge of fear bleeding through the calmness you’re always so good at holding. The sound of furniture crashing against the wall cuts through the air, followed by the unmistakable sound of glass shattering. Then, the worst, your voice, strangled and desperate, as you gasp out, “Please, calm down!”

Minho doesn’t waste a second. He shoves the book aside, eyes wide with instinctual panic. His hands fly to the side table, grabbing the gun he keeps there, fingers gripping the cold steel as he slides it into his coat pocket. He doesn’t bother to make noise, doesn’t bother with anything that might slow him down.

Running, he bursts out of his flat, racing next door toward your door, his heart pounding in his chest like a war drum.

He kicks the door in with one swift motion, the splintering sound echoing through the small flat as he rushes inside, gun in hand, his body coiled and ready for anything.

The sight that greets him almost knocks the breath out of his lungs.

You’re on your hands and knees, barely clothed in just your underwear, coughing violently as you struggle to breathe, one hand massaging your throat as if trying to force air back into your lungs.

Your eyes are wide and terrified, and next to you lies the man unconscious, sprawled out on the floor with a shattered lamp beside him. The lightbulb has exploded, glass shards scattered across the room, marking the evidence of whatever struggle you’d just been through.

Minho swallows hard, his heart racing as he takes in the scene. The instinct to protect you kicks in hard, overriding the cold, calculating part of his mind.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, voice rough as he scans the room.

You don’t move, still on your knees, your breathing ragged as you slowly raise your hand from your throat, your face strained. You cough again, the sound raw and sharp.

“Y/N!” Minho calls, his voice tight with worry, stepping forward quickly. His gun stays in his hand, just in case, as he crouches beside you. “Are you alright? What the fuck happened?”

You glance up at him, shaking your head slightly, your lips trembling. “Shell shock,” you rasp out, voice still strained. “He thought he was in France again. He- He snapped, Minho. Thought I was someone else.”

“I’ll be right back,” Minho says sharply, his voice hardening. “Stay here. Don’t move.”

Before you can protest, Minho’s already standing, storming out the door. His boots pound against the hallway floor as he moves quickly, eyes sharp as he reaches the flat next door.

He bangs on the door, not bothering to be polite. The man who opens it looks startled, blinking up at him, but Minho doesn’t waste time with niceties.

“Go find Lee Felix or Bang Chan right now,” Minho demands, his voice low and full of menace. He thrusts a wad of cash into the man’s hand. “Tell 'em Minho needs 'em. And if you fuck me over, I swear I’ll kill you. Got it?”

The man’s eyes widen as he looks down at the money, his expression turning into a grimace of fear. He nods quickly, backing away from the door.

“Good,” Minho grunts, his voice colder now. “Get moving.”

The man doesn’t argue. He darts past Minho toward the stairs, the sound of his footsteps disappearing quickly as Minho hurries back toward your flat.

When he steps back inside, he finds you standing, struggling to pull a robe over your shoulders. Your hands tremble as you finish tying it, but you don’t look at him. Your eyes are fixed on the man lying unconscious on the floor.

Minho pauses for a second, just watching you before walking to the dining table and setting the gun down on the edge. He sits beside you as you sink heavily into the chair. His eyes sweep over your bruised neck and the red marks around your throat. You’re shaken, but you’re holding it together.

“Are you okay?” Minho asks, voice gentle but firm.

You glance at him, the corners of your lips twitching as you force a smile. “He didn’t mean it. It’s just the war in his head.” You take a deep breath, your voice shaky but trying to hold steady. “Eun... he’s usually sweet. Watches half his comrades die over there, and when I’m with him, I just listen. I don’t fuck him. I just sit in my underwear and let him talk. That way, he knows I’m not holding a weapon, that I’m just here to listen.”

You take a long breath, reaching for the bottle of rum you’d left on the counter. You pour two glasses, your hand steady despite everything. “I’ll be fine. I know how to handle it.” You slide a glass toward Minho, and he takes it without a word, letting you pour one for yourself.

“Shit’s fucked, isn’t it?” Minho mutters, his fingers curled tightly around the glass.

You nod, swallowing some of the rum as you lean back in your chair. “Yeah. But it’s the only way to keep ’em calm sometimes.” You glance at the unconscious Eun, then back at Minho. “I don’t know what else to do.”

Minho takes a deep sip from his glass, eyes hardening. “We’ll figure it out. You’re not alone in this, Y/N.”

You smile faintly, your eyes softening. “I know.”

As you both sit in the dimly lit room, the silence stretches between you. There’s a soft tension in the air, but Minho’s presence is a comfort, steady and solid as the world outside keeps turning.

Ten minutes pass in relative silence, the soft clink of glasses and the occasional breath breaking the quiet tension. Then, the sound of heavy boots echoes in the hallway, and the door to your flat swings open.

Chan steps in first, his eyes scanning the room with practised calm. Felix follows closely behind, his eyes darting between you and Minho before falling to the unconscious man sprawled on the floor.

Without missing a beat, Chan's gaze sharpens, his voice low and cutting. “I expected more from you, Minho.”

Minho’s lip curls into a wry grin, his shoulders rolling in a casual shrug. “That wasn’t me. That was Florence Nightingale here.” He nods toward you, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Chan’s expression softens for just a second, but it’s gone quickly. “Nice job,” he says, his tone genuine but with a subtle edge of tension.

Felix, who’s been quiet up until now, crouches down next to you, his hand lifting to examine the bruises around your neck. His fingers hover lightly above your throat, but he doesn’t touch, just inspecting the damage. His face hardens as he looks at the marks, his voice low but filled with disbelief.

“Fuckin’ hell, dollface,” he mutters, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Looks like it hurts.”

You blink, your gaze flicking to Felix’s face before shrugging slightly, offering a small, reassuring smile. “It’s fine.”

Chan, sensing the underlying tension, steps closer, his voice smooth but authoritative. “We’ll deal with him. Don’t worry about it.”

You nod, still trying to remain calm despite the aches in your body. “Please don’t hurt him. He has shell shock. We just talk, but then something just flipped, and he lost it.”

Felix glances at you, still kneeling beside you, his eyes narrowing as he processes the situation. “You talk in your underwear?” he asks, his voice laced with disbelief.

You nod slightly, shrugging. “Then he can see I ain’t got no weapons on me.”

Felix exhales sharply, shaking his head in disbelief. “Jesus Christ.” He stands up, running a hand through his hair. “Fine, but he ain’t bein’ your client no more.”

You look at Felix, nodding in agreement, though you feel a pang of sympathy for Eun. “I agree. I won’t see him again.”

Chan gives a sharp nod before turning to Minho and Felix, his voice firm. “Minho, Felix, get him home. Once you’re done, come back here. We’ve got more to sort out.”

Minho stands without a word, his eyes still calculating, but he nods in agreement. Felix steps over Eun’s body, grabbing his arms to help Minho drag him up. Together, they lift him as carefully as they can, mindful of the fragile state he’s in.

As they make their way toward the door, Chan sinks into the nearest chair, tossing his cap onto the table with a soft thud. He leans back, his eyes never leaving you, his thoughts clearly at work. The soft scrape of the chair legs against the floor sounds too loud in the heavy silence that’s descended.

Once Minho and Felix have left, the door shutting behind them with a quiet click, you sit back in your chair, the tension starting to loosen in your shoulders, but the exhaustion sets in quickly. The adrenaline that had kept you going is fading, and you find yourself feeling the weight of everything.

Chan leans forward slightly. “Are you alright?” he asks, his voice softer now.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “I’m fine,” you reply, though the lie feels hollow in your chest. “Just need a minute.”

Chan nods, his eyes scanning your face, lingering on the marks that mar your skin. “You’re one tough woman,” he says quietly. “But I can’t keep lettin’ this happen.”

You look up at him, a tired smile tugging at your lips. “I’ve got to do what I can, Chan. It’s all I know.”

Chan pulls a thick wad of cash from his coat pocket, the bills crisp and tightly packed. He places it on the table between you, his fingers lingering just a moment too long before he withdraws his hand.

“Your wage for the month,” he says.

You look down at the money, a small but genuine smile playing at your lips as you nod. “Thanks, Chan.”

He watches you for a second before his gaze sharpens. “How’s it goin’ with the Inspector?”

You sit back slightly, the smile fading, replaced with the exhaustion you’ve been trying to keep hidden. “He comes every week, Wednesday at nine. We fuck, he cries, and then spills his secrets.” You shrug slightly, not making it sound like a big deal. “It’s routine by now.”

Chan nods slowly, his brow furrowing just slightly. “He said anything of use yet?”

You sigh, glancing down at the pile of cash before looking back at him. “He’s under a lot of pressure from Westminster. I mean, he’s been here two months and has found nothin’. I’m steering him to believe it was someone from the BSA, and I think he’s startin’ to buy it.”

“Good,” Chan mutters, his voice low and approving. He leans forward slightly, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table. “But?”

You take a breath, knowing what’s coming. “But he’s still keepin’ an eye on you lot. He mentioned raidin’ the wharf where you lot stock your important imports that aren’t on the books.”

Chan’s face doesn’t shift, but his eyes darken slightly. “Alright,” he says calmly. “I’ll get that moved.” He pauses, staring at you for a beat longer. “Has the inspector been rough with you?”

You wince slightly, the question hitting a nerve. But you don’t shy away from answering him. “A few times. Nothing I can’t handle. Minho always comes in once he leaves, patches me up.”

Chan’s jaw tightens for a second, the muscles in his neck shifting as he watches you. “You want out?” His voice softens, but there’s an edge to it.

You shake your head, your eyes meeting his without hesitation. “I can handle it.”

Chan stares at you, his expression unreadable for a long moment. Then, he nods once, as if he expected you to say that. “Good. I didn’t want to have to pull you from it.” He hesitates, then asks, “He said anything about Felix?”

You think for a moment. “I’ve made him believe that Felix loves me,” you say quietly. “and that I use that to keep a good income. It works. He doesn’t question it.”

Chan’s eyes flick to the glass you’re holding, his fingers tapping on the edge of the table again. “Does he know Minho lives next door?”

You nod. “Yeah. I managed to convince him it was unrelated, something to do with the landlord owing money to the Blinders, and Minho’s intimidatin’ him into paying it back.”

Chan raises an eyebrow, impressed. “You’re good at this.”

You smile faintly, taking a slow sip of your drink. “Have to be.”

Chan leans back in his chair, letting out a slow breath. “You got any drink?” he asks, the first sign of a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Yeah,” you reply, walking over to the cabinet and pouring two glasses, one for yourself, one for him. You return to the table and slide his glass toward him. “Here.”

“Thanks,” he says, taking the glass and looking at you. The faintest warmth in his gaze is all that’s left of the cold, calculated man who usually walks into the room. “For what?” you ask, genuinely puzzled.

Chan’s smile widens just a fraction. “For saving Felix back in France.”

You shrug, lifting your glass slightly before taking a long drink. “Just doin’ my job, like you boys were doin’ yours.”

Chan hums softly, the sound more thoughtful than anything else. “What shit jobs they were,” he mutters, his fingers curling around his glass.

You smile again, a little warmer this time. “I’ll drink to that.” You lift your glass and clink it gently against his. “To the shit jobs.”

Chan laughs quietly, shaking his head as he takes a sip from his glass.

Minho and Felix return, their footsteps muffled in the hallway as they come back from dropping off Eun. The door creaks open, and Chan finishes his drink in one smooth motion. He gives you a knowing glance, his eyes softer than usual.

“I’ll leave you in Felix’s capable hands, sweetheart,” he says, his tone lightly teasing, but there’s a warmth in it that makes you smile.

“Night, Chan,” you reply. You watch him as he heads toward the door, the heavy sound of his boots retreating into the hallway.

Minho, ever the mischief-maker, raises an eyebrow. “Don’t you mean wanderin’ hands?”

Felix, stepping in behind him, smirks. “My hands can be both,”

Minho chuckles but doesn’t argue. “See you tomorrow,” he calls over his shoulder, and you wave him off.

Once the door shuts behind them, the sound of Minho clattering around in his flat next door fills the quiet of your flat.

Felix lets out a long sigh. “Noisy bastard,” he mutters, half under his breath.

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “You’re one to talk.”

Felix doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he walks over to the small table, uncorking the rum bottle and pouring a generous glass. He takes a deep swig from it before patting his lap, a lazy, confident grin on his face.

“Come here,” he says, his voice warm with a playful edge.

You glance at him, a smile tugging at your lips as you cross the room. Without hesitation, you settle yourself in his lap, your legs draped over his as you adjust comfortably. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer as he takes another drink.

He looks down at you, his dark eyes softening. “Make a toast, angel,” he murmurs.

You raise your glass, your fingers grazing his as you bring it to your lips. “May you be in heaven a full half hour before the devil knows you’re dead,”

Felix raises an eyebrow, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You sayin’ I’m goin’ to hell, angel?”

You smile coyly, tilting your head. “Aren’t we all?”

Felix laughs, the sound low and rich in his chest. “True enough,” he says, taking a long gulp from his own glass. “But I reckon Chan’ll probably run the place. We’d all be livin’ the life of Riley down there anyway.”

You chuckle, swirling the rum in your glass before taking another sip. Felix leans back in the chair, his hand resting on your leg as he watches you with an unreadable expression.

“Felix,” you say softly, breaking the comfortable silence between you.

He hums, his eyes never leaving yours as he takes another slow sip of his drink. “Yeah, love?”

You hesitate for just a second, then speak, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “Once this business with the inspector is done… I’ll marry you.”

His face lights up in a split second, the seriousness in his expression fading to pure joy. He sets his glass down and leans in, pulling you toward him in one swift motion. His lips crash against yours, and for a moment, everything fades. The world, the tension, the uncertainty. It’s just you and him, lost in a kiss that says more than words ever could.

When he pulls away, he’s grinning, his breath a little heavier than usual. “I’ve been waitin’ for you to say that, angel.”

Without another word, he stands, lifting you effortlessly in his arms. You wrap your arms around his neck, your heart pounding as he carries you toward the bedroom.

The door shuts softly behind you, and as he lays you down on the bed, his hands trailing over you with a gentle, possessive urgency, you can’t help but smile. There’s no turning back now. And maybe, just maybe, this life you’re living might finally be worth it.

Felix strolls into the Garrison, whistling a tune under his breath as the smoke from his cigarette curls lazily in the air. His boots click sharply against the floor, a confident rhythm that matches the grin plastered on his face. He’s in a good mood tonight. Too good, by the looks of it.

The moment he steps into the backroom, the entire card game comes to a halt. The chatter dies down, and every set of eyes in the room turns toward him, as if they’ve just witnessed a ghost walking in. Felix’s grin widens, and he takes a long drag from his cigarette before flicking it away carelessly.

Jisung, unable to hold back, breaks the silence. “It’s finally happened.”

Hyunjin, his eyes narrowed in disbelief, adds, “He’s lost his fuckin’ mind.”

Changbin looks Felix up and down, clearly bewildered. “Whatever it is, it’s makin’ my balls shrivel just watchin’ it.”

Felix simply shrugs, unfazed. He tosses his coat onto one of the chairs and flings his cap onto the table with a satisfying thud. He heads straight to the bar, pouring himself a generous glass of whiskey, not bothering to acknowledge the questions or the stares.

Jisung raises an eyebrow, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face. “Did you smoke opium before you came here?”

Felix takes a sip of his whiskey, savouring it, before looking at Jisung. “No.”

Seungmin, never one to let an awkward silence pass, asks, “Are you drunk?”

Felix shakes his head, giving a low chuckle. “No.”

Seungmin, sensing the tension building, tosses in his own theory. “You get hit on the head or somethin’?”

Felix takes another swig of whiskey, clearly amused now. “No.”

That’s when Chan, who’s been quietly observing, leans back in his chair and raises an eyebrow. “Did she finally agree to marry you?”

Felix freezes for a split second, eyes widening in surprise before he grins widely. “You knew I asked her?!” he exclaims, genuinely surprised that Chan was in the loop.

“Yeah,” Chan replies casually. “She told me. Shocked the shit outta me.” He looks at the rest of the group, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Didn’t think you had it in you, Felix.”

Jisung’s mouth falls open as he lets out a loud whistle. “You proposed to Y/N?!”

Felix rolls his eyes, taking another deep sip of whiskey. “I’ve been tryin’ to get her to marry me since before you cunts even met her.”

Minho leans forward, resting his chin on his hand, still eyeing Felix. “Well?”

Felix smirks, clearly enjoying the attention. “I’m gettin’ fuckin’ married once that Inspector packs his bags and gets the fuck outta Small Heath,” he announces proudly.

The rest of the room erupts into cheers, loud whoops and clapping filling the air. Even Changbin can’t help but laugh, raising his glass. “That’s fuckin’ fantastic, mate!”

Changbin’s celebration dies down quickly, though, as he narrows his eyes at Felix. “Well, why the fuck isn’t Y/N here to celebrate with you?”

Chan takes a long drag from his cigarette and exhales slowly. “It’s a Wednesday.”

Felix chuckles, his gaze turning toward the door. “She’ll be here once the inspector leaves her flat.”

Minho grins at that, raising an eyebrow. “Is this why you fucked her all night long?”

Felix’s smirk is all too knowing, the corners of his mouth curling even further. “Yeah. What’s it to you, Minho?”

Minho slouches in his chair, his hands behind his head. “I had to listen to it all night, you bastard.”

Jisung laughs loudly, clearly finding the situation amusing. “Poor Minho,” he says with a smirk, leaning back in his chair.

Minho, his expression exaggerated in mock despair, nods. “Saint fuckin’ Minho right here. Bang, bang, bang against my wall all night. The poor girl. Can she even walk?”

Hyunjin, always quick with the banter, adds, “Not if Felix did it right.”

Changbin cackles, his deep laugh echoing in the room. “Well, did you do it right, Felix?”

Felix’s grin widens, an unspoken confidence in his expression. “You’ll find out when you’re married, mate.”

Everyone laughs, but Jeongin, who’s been quiet for most of the conversation, chimes in innocently. “Why wouldn’t she be able to walk?”

The room goes silent for a moment as all eyes land on Jeongin. Chan, looking at Jeongin with a bemused expression, shakes his head slowly. “Don’t mind Innie,” he says. “He makes love to all his girls.”

Jeongin looks genuinely confused. “I treat them nice,” he protests, his voice earnest. “That’s what you’re supposed to do, right?”

Jisung bursts into laughter. “You can fuck them hard and still treat them nice, Innie,” he says with a teasing grin.

Jeongin sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes. “I’m just sayin’, I don’t think I need to do anything extra.”

Felix, still enjoying the chaos around him, chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “Well, whatever works, mate. Just don’t get caught up in it too much. That’s when you get into trouble.”

Two hours later, you walk into the Garrison with the smooth grace of someone who knows their worth. The green dress hugs your figure perfectly, the heels clicking sharply against the wooden floor, announcing your presence as soon as you step in.

The coat draped over your shoulders adds an air of casual elegance, the red lipstick on your lips a bold contrast against the soft curl of your hair. You take a drag from the cigarette between your fingers as you move through the room, the smoke swirling lazily in the air.

As you pass by the patrons, all eyes follow you. You can feel their gazes like a heavy weight on your skin, their murmurs rising in the air.

"That's Lee Felix's whore," someone whispers too loudly, clearly hoping you’ll hear. "Anyone who touches her wrong ends up in the Cut."

The whispers ripple through the room like a wave, but you don’t flinch. You walk with purpose, keeping your head high, letting their words fall away like nothing more than noise. The patrons look you up and down as you breeze past them, their eyes widening with a mix of fear and admiration.

You continue on to the backroom, the heavy door creaking open as you step inside. Felix, seated at the table with the others, immediately breaks into a grin as soon as he sees you.

"Oh, if it ain’t the bride-to-be," Chan remarks from his chair, his tone teasing but warm.

You smile, a glimmer of pride and amusement in your eyes as Felix immediately pulls you into his lap. His arms wrap around you, pulling you close, and you settle against him comfortably, the familiar scent of him grounding you.

Chan watches the two of you with an approving smirk. “So, how was the Inspector?”

You sigh, letting the tension from the outside world fall away for a moment. “Same old,” you reply. “Finishes in a few minutes, cries his heart out about being a failure, spills his secrets, and leaves.”

Hyunjin looks at you sympathetically, shaking his head. “You poor thing,” he says, his tone genuinely pitying.

You nod in agreement, the weight of the past few weeks pressing down on you. “It’s not so bad. It’s all routine by now.”

Minho leans back in his chair, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he watches you with a knowing look. “It’s sad to hear through the wall. He’s a proper crier.”

You laugh softly, resting your head against Felix’s chest as he holds you close. “He really is. But it works for us. Keeps him talking.”

Chan looks over at you, his brow furrowing slightly. “Anything of note?”

You straighten up slightly, giving him a sharp look. “He’s going to be coming at everyone full force. He’s been given two weeks to find the guns. So Minho and I are setting up a scapegoat for him.”

Changbin, never one to hold back, leans forward, his curiosity piqued. “Who?”

You grin, the plan already beginning to take shape. “We’re setting up that BSA man who lives in my flat building. The one who beats his wife. Gonna make the Inspector believe he sold the guns to the IRA.”

Minho flicks his cigarette and looks at you with approval. “It’ll be easy. He spends most of his time drinkin’ in the Black Swan. He’s been seen with IRA members before. We just have to plant papers in his flat, make it look like he’s involved.”

You nod, eyes flashing with confidence. “Then I’m gonna tell the Inspector that he came to me as a client and spilled his heart out to me. Two birds, one stone.” You look at the group with a satisfied grin. “We’re in the clear, and the Inspector’s out of a job for failin'.”

Chan looks at you for a long moment, the approval in his eyes unmistakable. “You’re getting a fuckin’ raise.”

You smile, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. “Thanks, Chan.”

Jeongin, who’s been silent for most of the conversation, raises his glass with a grin. “To getting the bastard out of Small Heath, so Lee Felix can get fuckin’ hitched!”

The rest of the room erupts in cheers, everyone raising their glasses in unison. The clinking of glass rings in the air as they join in the toast.

“To Felix and Y/N,” Chan says, his voice strong, as the rest of the room follows suit. “May the bastard get out, and may you two live the life you deserve.”

Felix’s grin widens, his arm tightening around you as he leans in to kiss your temple. “I’ll drink to that.”

You chuckle softly, feeling a warmth in your chest. The tension from the past few months is finally starting to melt away, replaced with a sense of relief, and even something more. Hope. The road ahead still has its bumps, but for now, you’re here, safe, and surrounded by the people who have your back.

And for once, it feels like things might actually go your way.

The tea room is quaint, quiet, and comfortably warm, the clink of china and low murmurs of other patrons filling the air. You step inside with the confidence of someone who’s been in rooms like this before, and yet, the anticipation courses through you. The plan is coming together, and you can feel the weight of the moment pressing on your shoulders.

You’re dressed for the occasion. A light blue dress that hugs your frame just right, a cream coat draped over your shoulders, cream gloves, and a matching cream beret perched atop your perfectly curled hair. The red lipstick is bold, a stark contrast to the delicate details of your outfit, and it’s all part of the act. You know how to play your part, how to make the Inspector see exactly what you want him to see.

As you sit at a table by the window, you pull a cigarette from your bag and light it with a slow, deliberate motion. You don’t look around when the door opens, knowing exactly who it is. You wait, letting him approach on his own terms.

The Inspector spots you immediately, his face softening as he walks toward your table. You can see the slight flicker of something in his eyes, something you’ve noticed over the past few meetings. He’s starting to fall for you, and you know just how to use that to your advantage.

"Good evening, Inspector," you greet him with a soft smile, your voice smooth as silk. “I’m sorry to have called you here, but I have something I must tell you. I’m scared, and I believe you’re the only one who can help me.”

The Inspector sits down across from you, leaning in with an intensity that suggests he’s already anticipating what you’ll say. His gaze is hungry for information, but there’s something else in his eyes. Something personal.

"Tell me what worries you, dear," he says, his voice low and thick with concern. He leans closer, his attention fixed entirely on you.

You allow yourself a moment of hesitation, just enough to make him lean in further. Then, you drop the bait. “It’s about the guns,” you say quietly, your voice trembling just enough to sound convincing. You can see the shift in him, the way his posture straightens as he registers the words.

The Inspector’s eyes widen slightly. "You’ve finally found something for me?" His voice has a hopeful edge now, like he’s clinging to the idea that this will be the breakthrough he’s been waiting for.

You nod slowly, your hands wrapped around your teacup as you take a delicate sip. “There’s a man in my flat building, a BSA worker. He came to me as a client last night and... he confessed to having stolen the guns from the docks.”

The Inspector’s face hardens, the weight of your words sinking in. "Where are they?" he demands, the desperation clear in his voice.

You glance around the room for a moment, making sure no one is listening, then lower your voice. "He was sayin' he’s been talkin’ to some Irish folk in the Black Swan. He got paid to ship the guns to Ireland. They’re in the hands of the IRA now. He said it all went down about a month ago."

The Inspector’s face drops, his eyes widening with disbelief. “The guns are with the IRA?” His voice cracks slightly, as though the realization is a blow he didn’t expect.

You lower your gaze for a moment, feigning regret. “I’m sorry I didn’t have better news for you, Inspector,” you say softly. You see the way his shoulders slump, and you know this is hitting him harder than he wants to admit.

You stand, smoothing out the creases of your dress and adjusting your coat. The moment is over, and now you’re done with him for tonight. You give him a soft, sympathetic smile before turning and walking toward the door.

The Inspector remains seated, his hands gripping the edge of the table as if he’s trying to hold himself together.

Once you step out of the tea room, you breathe a sigh of relief. The hard part is over. You turn into an alleyway around the corner, just as planned, and there they are. Felix, Chan, and Minho, waiting for you.

Chan’s eyes narrow as he steps toward you, his gaze sharp. “Did he buy it?” His voice has a tinge of impatience, but there’s also pride in it, as if he’s already expecting a positive answer.

You smile, the satisfaction evident in the curve of your lips. “Of course he did.”

Minho lets out a low whistle. “Shit, that was quick. I was worried he might start questioning you.” He leans against the wall, arms crossed, a cigarette hanging from his lips. “Guess he’s more of a fool than we thought.”

Felix smiles, the warmth in his eyes cutting through the usual sharpness of his expression. “He’s already fallen for her,” he says, his tone teasing but affectionate. “No wonder she’s so damn good at this.”

Chan grins, tapping his cigarette on the ground before putting it out. “Good work, sweetheart. That’s one step closer to gettin’ rid of the bastard.”

You nod, feeling the tension leave your shoulders. “Now we just have to set the trap. Once the Inspector moves on this BSA guy, he’s done.”

Felix chuckles lowly, his hands slipping around your waist as he pulls you close. “He’s finished. And then we get to move on to the next chapter.”

The group falls into an easy silence for a moment, the weight of the plan sinking in. You know the road ahead is still long, but tonight, it feels like the pieces are finally falling into place. And with Felix at your side, you’re certain there’s nothing you can’t do.

The morning air is damp and cold, fog lingering low over the street like a blanket of smoke. The sound of shouts and heavy boots echo up through the narrow lane, breaking the stillness of the early hour. Minho stands next to you in the doorway of your flat, both of you leaning against the weathered frame. Cigarettes dangle lazily between your fingers, smoke curling from the tips like quiet spectres as you both watch the chaos unfold across the way.

The BSA man is being dragged from his flat by two burly police officers, thrashing wildly like a man drowning on dry land. His shouts are loud, almost frantic, but no one in the surrounding flats dares step outside to intervene. Not when the coppers have their batons raised and ready.

“Get the fuck off me!” the man bellows, twisting hard, trying to wrench his arms free from their grip. “I didn’t do nothin’! You’ve got the wrong bastard!”

The officers ignore him, their faces hard and impassive as they shove him toward the steps. When he plants his feet and resists, one officer raises his baton and cracks it across the man’s shoulder. The impact is brutal, the dull thud audible even from where you stand.

You exhale a slow breath of smoke, watching as the man lets out a strangled yell and staggers forward. “That must hurt,” you comment idly, your voice light, as if you’re watching something far less brutal than the beating in front of you.

Minho glances at you sideways, cigarette perched between his lips as he takes a long drag. “Probably,” he mutters around the smoke, his tone as disinterested as yours. “But he’s a wife-beating bastard, so I ain’t gonna lose sleep over it.”

The man collapses to his knees on the cobblestone as another officer lands a sharp blow to his side. “I didn’t fuckin’ do it!” he screams again, spitting blood onto the ground. His voice cracks, a mix of desperation and rage. “I didn’t sell nothin’ to the Irish!”

Minho chuckles quietly under his breath, a sardonic smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Well, this is a nice way to start my day,” he mutters, flicking the ash off his cigarette onto the doorstep.

You laugh softly, shaking your head as you pull another drag from your cigarette, the smoke filling your lungs before you exhale slowly. “I’d have thought framin’ someone would’ve been harder,” you muse, your gaze fixed on the scene in front of you as the police finally get the man on his feet and start hauling him toward the waiting black mariah.

Minho snorts, his voice dripping with casual arrogance. “For foolish people, maybe.” He turns his head to look at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “But not us.”

You meet his gaze, a sly smile tugging at your lips as you nod in agreement. “Not us.”

You both turn back to the street, watching as the BSA man is thrown unceremoniously into the back of the police wagon. The heavy doors slam shut with a loud clang, and the officers wipe their hands on their uniforms as if to rid themselves of the man entirely.

“That’s that, then,” Minho says, leaning back against the doorframe and stretching lazily, cigarette still burning between his fingers. “One less problem for Chan to worry about.”

You hum softly in agreement, a small, satisfied smile still lingering on your lips. “And one more nail in that Inspector’s coffin.”

Minho turns to look at you again, an approving smirk on his face. “You’ve got a knack for this. Chan’ll be pleased.”

You shrug, feigning modesty, but the pride glimmers in your eyes. “Someone’s gotta keep the lot of you out of trouble.”

Minho laughs, a deep, genuine sound, before shaking his head. “Keep talkin’ like that and Chan’ll start payin’ you more than me.”

You smile, leaning back against the frame beside him as the street slowly settles back into uneasy quiet. The BSA man is gone. The trap is set. And Small Heath will never know what hit it.

The flat is quiet except for the faint tick-tick-tick of the clock on the wall. You sit with Felix on the worn couch, his arm draped lazily across your shoulders, the both of you bathed in the soft light filtering in from the window.

You’re wearing a cream-coloured dress, one of your nicer ones, the fabric soft and elegant against your skin. Felix’s fingers trail absentmindedly along your arm as he talks lowly about something, his words a faint hum in the back of your mind as you stare out at the empty street below.

Then comes the knock. Sharp. Loud. Demanding.

Your spine straightens, and Felix’s hand stills on your arm.

“Miss L/N!” The voice calls through the door, unmistakable. Inspector Park.

Felix tenses immediately, his gaze darkening as he pushes himself up from the couch. He leans close, pressing his lips to your ear. “I’ll be in the bedroom.” He slips off silently, his boots barely making a sound as he heads to your room, closing the door behind him without a word.

You smooth out the creases in your dress, steadying your breath as you make your way to the door. The knock comes again, louder this time, as if he’s ready to break the damn thing down. You swing the door open, greeting him with a soft, practised smile.

“Inspector,” you say, the sweetness in your voice veiled by a hint of steel. “What a surprise. I thought you’d be back in Westminster, tryin’ to save your career.”

The Inspector stands rigid, his hat low over his eyes, his face set in a scowl. He steps inside without invitation, the door creaking on its hinges as he crosses the threshold.

“I know you set that man up,” he says, his voice low and full of venom.

Your brow arches delicately, your smile unfaltering. “I’ve no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

He steps closer, the tension rolling off him like heat. “It’s all too perfect,” he says. “He just happened to have all the proof in his flat. He confessed to you when no one else can corroborate it?”

You tilt your head slightly, taking a slow step back, giving him just enough space to realize how ridiculous he sounds. “I don’t know,” you reply evenly. “Sounds to me like the case is closed, and your career is fuckin’ done.”

The Inspector’s face flushes red, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “You conniving little whore,” he spits, his voice trembling with rage.

Your smile sharpens, your eyes glinting like polished glass. “If you can prove any of your accusations, Inspector, then you’re more than welcome to return,” you say coolly. “Otherwise, I bid you farewell and hope you enjoy unemployment.”

His eyes narrow, his nostrils flaring as he takes another step forward. “It’s for him, isn’t it?” he sneers. “That Blinder bastard. Lee Felix. You lied to me. You made me believe you loved me.”

At that, you laugh softly, tilting your chin up as you meet his glare without hesitation. “How could I ever love a man who injured himself to avoid servin’ his country?” you ask, your voice cutting through the room like a knife. “I spent two years tendin’ to your fellow countrymen in France while you sat at home, hidin’ from the frontlines.”

The Inspector freezes, his entire body going stiff. His hand moves suddenly to his coat, and before you can fully process it, he pulls out a revolver and aims it directly at you. The metallic click of the safety being released fills the air, but you don’t flinch. You hold your ground, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing fear on your face.

“I love you!” he shouts, his voice unhinged, cracking at the edges.

“I don’t love cowards,” you reply simply, your voice calm and even.

His hand trembles on the gun, his eyes wild as he stares at you. For a brief moment, the silence is deafening. Then, Minho’s door bursts open.

In one swift motion, Minho grabs the Inspector from behind, locking his arm around the man’s neck in a tight headlock. The gun falls to the floor with a loud clatter as the Inspector struggles, gasping and thrashing against Minho’s grip.

“Fuckin’ bastard,” Minho mutters, his voice low as he tightens his hold.

Before the Inspector can react, the sound of doors opening fills the hall. Chan, Seungmin, Changbin, Hyunjin, Jeongin, and Jisung all step out of the surrounding flats, guns drawn and pointed squarely at the Inspector. The hallway is filled with the clicking of hammers being pulled back, the ominous sound cutting through the tension like a blade.

You can’t help but grin, the sight of them appearing like ghosts in the mist bringing you a deep sense of satisfaction. Felix steps out of your bedroom then, slipping up behind you as he wraps his arm around your waist protectively.

Minho looks down at the Inspector, whose face is turning red from both rage and the headlock. “In the eyes of the posh twats in Westminster, you failed,” Minho says evenly, his voice dripping with mockery. “And you did. But not because you were too slow catchin’ the criminal. It’s because we’re too smart.”

Minho glances at you briefly, his grip still unrelenting. “That woman you’re in front of? She’s smarter than all of us. She’s the reason you failed—because you underestimated her.”

The Inspector’s eyes dart between all of you, sweat dripping down his temple as he tries to catch his breath. “At the end of the day,” he spits, his voice hoarse, “all you’ll ever be is a woman. A whore.”

Chan steps forward, his gaze icy as he lowers his gun slightly. “You lost, Inspector,” he says calmly, his tone firm and final. “And ain’t no one gonna believe you lost to a prostitute engaged to a gangster.”

The Inspector goes still at those words, realization finally sinking into his face. He’s beaten. Outplayed. Done for.

Felix leans down close to your ear, his voice soft and full of pride. “You're the smartest one of us all, angel.”

You smile, resting your hand over Felix’s arm as you stare down at the defeated Inspector. For all his threats, all his bluster, he’s nothing now. A crumpled man, bested at every turn. And you? You haven’t flinched once.

“Get him out of here,” Chan says with a flick of his head, and Minho drags the Inspector down the hallway, his struggles growing weaker with every step.

The Blinders watch him go, their guns still in hand, but the moment the man disappears down the stairs, the tension in the room finally breaks.

You turn to Felix, your smile softer now as you glance up at him. “Well, that’s that, then.”

Felix grins, pressing a kiss to your temple. “That’s that.”

The day dawns cold and crisp, the sky over Small Heath a patchwork of slate grey and pale blue. Despite the chill in the air, there’s an unexpected warmth that hangs over everything. A feeling of quiet joy that no one dares speak aloud, as though doing so might somehow break the spell.

You stand in the small chapel on the edge of town, your cream dress simple but elegant, with lace cuffs at the wrists and a modest train trailing softly behind you. Your hair is curled perfectly, pinned back to frame your face, and a soft cream veil falls gently from your curls. Your cheeks are flushed with excitement, the red on your lips a bold contrast to the softness of your gown.

Chan stands beside you, looking sharper than usual in a clean black suit and tie. He tugs at the collar with a slight grimace, muttering something about how “bloody tight” it is, but when he looks at you, his expression softens. For all his roughness, there’s a flicker of pride in his eyes that makes your throat tighten.

“You sure about this?” he asks, his voice low, his usual teasing tone softened into something more genuine.

You smile up at him, your gloved hand resting lightly on his arm. “Sure as I’ll ever be.”

Chan exhales, nodding slowly before offering you a small smile of his own. “Alright then. Let’s get you married, sweetheart.”

The chapel is small and bare, the kind of place where no one expects much ceremony, but it’s perfect for today. A row of pews sits half-filled with the Blinders, all cleaned up for the occasion. They look wildly out of place in their sharp suits, caps left at the door, but there’s something solemn in the way they sit quietly, waiting for the moment to begin.

Minho glances back as the doors creak open, his usual smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth when he sees you. “About bloody time,” he murmurs under his breath, just loud enough for Jisung to snort beside him.

At the altar, Felix stands waiting, his black suit tailored just right, his blonde hair swept back neatly. His hands twitch slightly as he adjusts his cuffs, betraying his nerves, but when he looks up and sees you, his face breaks into a wide, boyish grin that’s nothing short of breathtaking.

Chan clears his throat and offers you his arm, leading you forward as the small organ in the corner starts playing. It’s a soft, simple melody, but it carries enough weight to make the moment feel grand.

“Don’t trip,” Chan mutters under his breath as you begin walking, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

You roll your eyes, smiling softly. “Thanks for the confidence, Chan.”

“I’ve got to keep you grounded,” he replies with a smirk, though his grip on your arm is steady and reassuring.

The room falls into hushed silence as you walk down the aisle, your heels tapping softly against the wooden floor. Felix’s eyes don’t leave yours for a second, and there’s something so tender in the way he looks at you that it nearly steals the breath from your chest.

As you reach the altar, Chan pauses, turning to you with uncharacteristic gentleness. “Your parents’d be proud of you,” he murmurs, his voice rough around the edges.

You blink, the words hitting harder than you expected, and nod as you squeeze his arm lightly. “Thank you, Chan.”

He steps back, giving Felix a pointed look as he places your hand in his. “You take care of her, or I’ll come for you.”

Felix grins, his fingers curling around yours. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Chan.”

Chan steps aside and takes a seat with the others, leaving just you and Felix standing at the altar. Felix’s thumb brushes over your knuckles as he stares down at you, his grin softening into something warmer, deeper.

“You look beautiful, angel,” he murmurs, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

“And you look nervous,” you tease, though your voice is gentle, filled with affection.

Felix chuckles quietly, shaking his head. “Nah. Just can’t believe I finally convinced you to marry me.”

The ceremony is short and sweet. The priest says the necessary words, his voice steady and calm, though it’s drowned out in your mind by the sound of your heart pounding in your chest. Felix’s hand remains in yours the entire time, his thumb still tracing slow, soothing circles over your skin. When the vows are said and done, and the rings are exchanged, simple gold bands that glint faintly in the dim light, there’s a brief pause before the priest announces:

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Felix doesn’t hesitate. He pulls you to him, his hands cupping your face as he presses his lips to yours. The kiss is warm and lingering, and for a moment, it feels as though the rest of the world has disappeared. When he pulls back, there’s a bright, giddy grin on his face that makes you laugh softly.

The Blinders erupt into cheers and whistles from the pews behind you. Jisung lets out a loud, triumphant “Finally!” while Minho smirks and mutters, “Poor girl doesn’t know what she’s gotten herself into.”

Hyunjin shouts, “Oi, Felix, save some for later!” as Chan rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

Felix laughs, slipping his arm around your waist as he turns to face the group. “Piss off, all of you.”

“You’re stuck with us now,” Changbin calls out, grinning broadly.

Felix presses another kiss to your temple, holding you close. “You alright, angel?”

You nod, smiling up at him. “More than alright.”

As you both turn to leave the chapel, the rest of the boys trailing behind you, there’s a sense of peace you haven’t felt in a long time. The road ahead may not be perfect, nothing in Small Heath ever is, but for now, you’re happy. You’re home. And as Felix squeezes your hand in his, you know that whatever comes next, you’ll face it together.

“Mrs. Lee Felix,” he murmurs as you step outside into the chilly afternoon air.

You laugh softly, leaning into him as you walk down the steps. “Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

Felix grins, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Perfect.”

The Garrison is alive with laughter, shouting, and the unmistakable sound of whiskey glasses clinking together. The backroom is stuffed full of the familiar faces that have become like family. The air is thick with smoke, the table cluttered with bottles of whiskey, half-empty glasses, and discarded caps that no one cares about retrieving right now.

Chan sits at the head of the table, his tie loosened, a glass of whiskey in one hand as he watches the chaos unfold around him with a smirk. Felix has you tucked close at his side, his arm slung lazily around your shoulders, his cheeks flushed with drink. You’ve been smiling all night, cheeks aching from the endless laughter that fills the room.

Minho, having claimed the seat next to you, slams his glass down on the table with a little too much force. “Right,” he declares loudly, pointing a finger at you. “I’ve decided somethin’.”

You raise an eyebrow, already suppressing a grin. “Oh yeah? What’s that, Minho?”

He leans back in his chair, smug as anything, arms folded across his chest. “I’m stayin’. Permanently. I intend to be your neighbour until the end of bloody time.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Fine by me, Minho. You’re one of the better neighbors I’ve had.”

“That’s because I’m a fuckin’ delight,” he says, jabbing a finger at his chest before reaching for his whiskey again. “Not like the others, you know, pissin’ about in the hallways. I don’t cause trouble. Well, not for you, anyway. Also, I’ve been thinkin’ about Little Women, you know, the book you lent me?”

You choke on your drink slightly, barely holding back a laugh. “You’ve been thinkin’ about Little Women?”

Minho nods solemnly, waving his glass for emphasis. “Jo deserved better. I’ll die on that fuckin’ hill.”

Hyunjin, sitting across the table, raises an eyebrow and squints dramatically. “Wait, Minho, you can read?”

The table erupts into laughter, and Minho shoots Hyunjin a murderous glare. “I’ll cut you, you lanky fuck.”

“Oi!” Felix says, throwing his free hand into the air like a referee. “No fucking fighting on my wedding day, or I’ll cut you both.”

You burst out laughing at that, pressing a hand to your mouth as Hyunjin shrinks back with a mock look of innocence. “Alright, alright. Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Felix.”

At the far end of the table, Jisung stands up abruptly, stumbling slightly. “I’m off to the bar, no wait, someone, come with me, ”

Jeongin attempts to follow suit, but his foot catches on the leg of his chair, and before anyone can stop it, there’s a loud crash as Jisung and Jeongin trip over each other.

“Fuck!” Jisung shouts as he topples straight into Changbin, sending him flying backwards onto Seungmin, who’s been minding his own business.

The resulting heap of Blinders sprawled on the floor, Jisung tangled with Jeongin, Changbin sprawled flat on his back, Seungmin swearing profusely, sends the rest of the room into uncontrollable fits of laughter.

“Jesus Christ!” Chan calls out, grinning as he watches the scene unfold, his glass raised like a toast.

You and Minho are howling with laughter, tears threatening to spill as you clutch your sides. “I can’t breathe!” you manage to gasp, leaning forward as you try to recover.

Minho, doubled over, topples sideways out of his chair, still laughing, and you nearly go with him. Felix catches you around the waist at the last second, tugging you upright and pulling you safely into his lap.

“Careful, angel,” Felix murmurs into your ear, his grin wide as he presses a kiss to your temple. “Don’t want you breakin’ anything.”

Minho, meanwhile, lands hard on the floor with a thud, pulling Hyunjin down with him in the process.

“Fuckin’ hell, Minho!” Hyunjin groans, his voice muffled as he sprawls halfway over Minho’s legs.

“I’m fine,” Minho declares dramatically from the floor, still laughing as he tries to sit up. “Didn’t spill my drink!”

“Priorities,” Chan says dryly, taking a slow sip of his whiskey as he watches the chaos with clear amusement.

You glance around the room, your head resting against Felix’s shoulder as you smile to yourself. It’s madness, pure and simple. Minho and Hyunjin fighting to untangle themselves from the floor, Jisung trying and failing to help Jeongin up, Changbin still swearing as Seungmin mutters something about idiots. But it’s your madness.

Felix watches you for a moment, his thumb brushing absently along your arm. “You alright?” he asks softly, his voice low beneath the noise.

You tilt your head up to look at him, your smile soft and content. “Yeah,” you murmur. “I’m perfect.”

He grins, pressing another kiss to your forehead before raising his glass toward the group. “Oi! To family, and to my beautiful wife!”

“To Y/N!” the rest of them shout in unison, Minho lifting his glass from the floor as Hyunjin finally shoves him off.

The room bursts into another chorus of cheers and laughter, whiskey glasses clinking together as you lean back into Felix’s embrace, surrounded by the only family you’ve ever known. For once, everything feels right in the world, and you wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

“Welcome to married life, angel,” Felix murmurs into your ear, his voice full of affection.

You smile, your fingers lacing with his. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

General Taglist: @nightmarenyxx

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Becoming Friends: Luffy

Gender: Gender Neutral 

~~~~

After meeting Luffy, you hung out with him almost all the time. He told you all about his dreams about becoming a pirate. Much to the disappointment of his grandfather, you encouraged Luffy to chase his dream and become a pirate. This led you to be thrown in with Luffy when he was forced to undergo Garp’s training. But it was all worth it, since you got to be with your new friend.

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Sanji

How You Meet

Becoming Friends

Tragedy Strikes

Conflict Resolved

Feelings Develop 

You Talk To Someone

He Talks To Someone 

You Confess/He Confesses 

First Date

How You Sleep

How You Cuddle

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How You Meet: Sanji

~~~~~

Gender: Female

~~~~

You were the daughter of one of the cooks on the ship that Sanji worked when he was younger. He was impressed by your ability to cook wonderful foods.

~~~~

“Oder up!” The head chef shouted, placing the dish at the window. One of the waiters rushed over and got the dish. He rushed it out to the table. Sanji was bussing tables. He watched as the plate was delivered out, his eyes wide in awe. He had never seen a plate so delicately filled with food. It looked delicious. He walked into the kitchen with the plates.

“Hey, old man!” Sanji said to the head chef. The chef turned around. “Who made that dish back there?” Sanji asked. The chef went about making another order.

“That would be my daughter, [Y/N].” The chef said, pointing towards a young girl who was rushing to make the next plate. Sanji looked at the girl.

“[Y/N], huh?” Sanji said.

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How You Meet: Usopp

~~~~

Gender: Female

~~~

You were the younger sister of Kaya. You had met Usopp when he was younger, spreading lies about Pirates coming to Syrup Village.

~~~~

“Pirates are here! Pirates are here! Hurry, defend yourselves!” A young voice cried out. You were walking with your parents and Kaya through Syrup Village. You looked up when you heard a young voice shouting. Kaya smiled.

“It’s Usopp!” Kaya said in excitement. You had heard about Kaya’s friend Usopp, but had never gotten the chance to meet him.

Usopp ran over and greeted Kaya.

“Kaya! Did you hear that pirates are coming!” Usopp said. Kaya smiled.

“Yes, I’ve heard. I can’t wait to hear more of your stories!” Kaya said. She placed her arms on your shoulders. “I don’t think you’ve met my little sister, [Y/N]!” Kaya introduced. Usopp looked at you and smiled.

“Hi. I’m Usopp.”

“I’m [Y/N].”

~~~~~

//I’m sorry if this sucks. I’ve been running out of creative juices.//

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Bartering - [Leorio Paladiknight X Reader]

You tried not to show how excited you were that you were about to see your closest friends again at the auction in Yorknew City, but you did an extremely poor job at concealing such a thing. You were practically bouncing in place as you waved over the crowd of people at Gon, Killua, and Leorio, standing on a bench to make sure you were seen by them. The two young ones noticed you immediately and dashed towards you, Leorio following behind at a slightly slower pace. The smile on his face though was giving away how joyous he was, an impossible thing to hide just like your excitement.

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Hot Weirdo

Hisoka Morow X Reader

A/N: Woooow. Me writing a Hisoka fic? Whack. Anyway the only way I could think to make it work was if reader was a sassy bitch with no shame so that’s how I did it. For my clown fucker friend <3

Description: You always run into Hisoka when he’s fuckin’ naked. Weird, but at least you can openly admire him and his physique. This time though, it was a little too openly. Oops.

Tags: Fluff, fem reader

Word Count: 1246

What was with you and catching Hisoka half or fully naked? This was the third damn time you’d just happened upon him while he was bathing. It was always in the middle of nowhere too; the man standing butt naked in a lake or stream washing what was most likely blood and dirt off of himself. You couldn’t really be too shocked about it though considering you and him never met under normal circumstances anyway. Something odd or fucked up always occurred when you crossed paths, so it was the norm by now. 

Watching him from afar he seemed to have just finished up cleaning himself in what appeared to be a stream this time. You didn’t mean to watch, but you had to admit he was a rather attractive individual. He stood in only his pants, chest bare to the world and practically glowing with all the droplets of water that rolled off of him, his hair slicked down and still slightly damp. For a freak of nature he sure was hot as hell, so you looked on with hungry eyes, taking time to enjoy the sight. As he was handling his shirt though, he stopped for a moment and looked in your direction, a wide smirk foaming on his face as he put his things back down on the ground. 

“The fuck is he smirking at?” You mumbled to yourself, still staring at him quite dumbly.

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Intrigued By You

Chrollo Lucilfer X Reader

A/N: I will not lie, I didn't see writing for the cum man himself was in my future but here we are >w>. This is new to me, so p l e a s e excuse anything that seems off. This could end up with future parts. Request for @ravenina14

Description: You have this neat little gimmick called teleportation. You use portals to conduct your mischievous theft outings. You've never been caught doing so, but this time around, you made a couple miscalculations and fucked with the wrong organization. Will it lead to your death, or perhaps something vastly different?

Tags: fem!reader, fluff

Word Count: 2130

“This would be so much fucking easier if they stopped changing the room they hid their shit in.” You grumbled to yourself.

Currently you were sneaking around the hideout of the Phantom Troupe, searching desperately for the room in which they stored their valuables. You had been here many times before and successfully stolen many items, but it was because of that success that the room changed almost every time you were there. Your nen luckily made things incredibly easy though, as you had the ability to create portals and warp to any room you’ve seen in full before. That was how you got away with stealing so many things from these guys in the first place. Unfortunately they had noticed the missing items and changed up the room every couple of days to try and divert you, so your chances of portaling directly to the exact room the first time were ruined. You always had to search a bit deeper, and that was your current dilemma.

Silently creeping around you made your way through the hideout, holding your breath at every doorway you passed. Footsteps could be heard quite frequently around you, so you had to be extra cautious. For some reason the Troupe was active as hell tonight which made it that much harder to achieve your goal. Luckily the room you were in search of was close. There were a couple of rooms at the end of the hall you were in that you had yet to check, so one of the two rooms was bound to be the one you needed.

Just as you reached out to check one of the rooms, approaching footsteps changed your course of action. You dove into the room in front of you past the slightly open door of the side room, and as you flew past it you saw a glint of valuable items from within. You cursed as you hid behind the door of the wrong room, hoping to god the bodies would leave and fail to notice your presence. When the footsteps came to a halt just outside the room you hid in, small talk had started up between the two people that came down. It didn’t seem like anyone was going to be leaving any time soon. It was entirely possible that you might have to outright leave if they didn’t to avoid getting caught.

“Are you sure you heard someone down here Chrollo?” A voice asked.

“Of course. Our possessions have been compromised several times in the last week. I know what I felt with my en.” Chrollo replied.

“Shit. I gotta get outta here.” You thought.

Though the room was dimly lit, you scanned your surroundings so you could come back again later. Once the room layout was fully memorised you pressed your hands to the wall and focused your nen on that spot. A glowing ring expanded outward from your palms and you quickly phased through it in a flash, disappearing into the wall and out of the hideout. That flash was your ability’s only drawback, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

“... You saw that flash, right?” Chrollo asked his subordinate.

“I did. You’re definitely right.”

“Go on standby at the other end of the hall. Only come when called for.” Chrollo instructed.

“You got it.”

With a nod Chrollo’s subordinate left for the end of the hall while he peeked inside the room you were once in. Looking around at first glance nothing seemed to be out of order, but with a bit of gyo applied, Chrollo was able to see faint traces of your nen left over on the wall. He hummed curiously and left the room, deciding to hide himself away in the supply room.

“I thought so. I know she’ll be back soon. This isn’t the first time.” Chrollo mumbled to himself amusedly.

He sunk into the shadows behind the valuables, awaiting your return. He was quite familiar with you. A little more than anyone would’ve thought. He had been tracking you in secret ever since the first theft you committed within their base. Now he finally had his chance to encounter you thanks to your first slip up.

===

You paced around your home while cursing like mad, trying to think of what to do in order to get any valuable pieces from that room. Having almost gotten caught had you in quite a panic, so you had to spend a little time cooling down before you could make a proper decision as to when and if you should go back. After some thought, you concluded that you definitely needed to leave with something today, so you decided to go back after waiting an hour or so. The extra time was to hope no one was there by the time you returned… Emphasis on hope.

Once that time had roughly gone by, you let out a deep sigh and positioned yourself in front of a wall again, pressing your palms to it. You prayed for luck and made yet another glowing ring expand out on the wall, opening a portal back to the room you originally fled. Slipping through, you stepped back into the dimly lit room and crouched down, taking a moment to listen for anyone nearby. You only rose once you were satisfied with the silence and walked back into the hall, pressing a hand to the wood of the door of the first room you wanted to check.

Boldly yet carefully you pushed the door open without a sound, quickly slipping inside before you were seen again. When you then scanned your surroundings your initial guess was found out to be right, and you sighed with relief. Though the lighting was dim, you could make out several pricey pieces of art and pottery: exactly what you had come here for.

“I knew it was in here. God I am good.” You whispered to yourself in praise.

Feeling a little more relaxed you wandered the room in search of the most expensive looking piece. You had bills to pay so you were gonna make this theft a good one. After browsing for a moment, your eyes settled on a gorgeous vase. That was the one you decided to take home with you, so you reached out and went to scoop it up excitedly. Unfortunately your plans were ruined and just before your fingers could touch the vase, a pale hand shot out from the shadows and grabbed your wrist, pulling you with it into the dimmer part of the room.

You gasped and almost let out a scream, but a second hand came up to silence you before you could. A long and drawn out ‘shh’ was heard as you were momentarily pulled up against someone’s body.

“If you scream, someone will come and you’ll be killed much faster. If you’re quiet though and tell me why you’re here, I’ll consider not killing you at all.” A man’s voice instructed.

You were released once he said his piece and you spun around to see exactly who had gotten ahold of you. It was still too dark to properly see his features, so you huffed and faced him with the most audacity you had ever mustered in a situation like this where the odds were heavily against you.

“What’s it to ya, buddy?” You boldly retaliated.

This made the man laugh as he reached for something in his pocket.

“Oh you are amusing indeed.” He chuckled. “This is literally my hideout, and you dare to ask me such a question?”

A spark flared up between the man’s fingers, indicating he had lit a match. Following the flame you watched him light a nearby candle, adding a little more of a soft glow to the room. It was enough light for you to be able to make out his facial features though, and your heart leapt into your throat with panic once you realized who he was. From what little research you had done, this face only belonged to one man in your files. You realized that Chrollo was the one who stood before you, and you felt nothing but foolish.

“Ah shit. You are the leader. I fucked up.” You muttered in defeat.

“You did indeed.” Chrollo smirked.

“Well, I’m fucked. At least I’m gonna die at the hands of the most attractive member of the Phantom Troupe.” You said dramatically.

“Oh? Giving up so soon?” He asked.

“Yeah. I’m severely in debt and far weaker than you. I don’t have a whole lot going for me so if I let you kill me I’ll at least be free of debt. Why do you think I was stealing your shit?” You chuckled nonchalantly.

Chrollo looked you up and down one more time and locked his eyes with yours. For a woman so eager to throw her life away there was an incredible fire in your eyes: a fearless flame that burned brightly despite being in his presence.

“So you’ve got no money, correct?” Chrollo asked cautiously.

“No shit Sherlock.” You answered bluntly.

“Well… How about I offer you a job instead of killing you?” He then said.

You blinked a couple of times and looked at the man as if he were batshit insane.

“Are you seriously trying to offer me: a thief that just made another theft attempt, a damn job? You’re joking, right?” You scoffed.

“I’m not. In fact, I’ve recently lost some members and I’m looking for new ones. You fit my description perfectly, and your ability is very intriguing. It would be incredibly useful to us.” He complimented.

You tried to argue, but found yourself blushing instead. He had a good reason, and you drew a blank for any rebuttal against him.

“So, how exactly does it work? Do tell me. If I can throw a bit of blind trust at you, you can spare me a little as well, can’t you?” Chrollo persuaded.

“I… Well uh, alright. I… need to have seen an entire room in full to open a gate into or out of it, as well as know the location of the place for geographical reasons. So… It’s not exactly useful unless I know all that stuff already.” You explained dumbly.

“Hmm… I can work with that. I can probably fix it too, if you’ll join me, that is.” Chrollo offered nonchalantly.

“I…”

“You said you have nothing going for you right now. Joining me would only benefit you, and money would come of it as well.” He persuaded.

“... Fine. You’ve got a deal.” You finally caved.

“Lovely~. You’ve made a wise choice, _______.” He hummed.

“How… How do you know my name?” You asked.

“You think I haven’t noticed things going missing? You’re not the only one who’s been studying up on their target.” He chuckled.

“I shouldn’t have expected any less. Fuck.” You muttered.

There was a brief moment of silence, and then Chrollo stepped closer to you. Way closer than you expected. He seemed to be examining you, and got his face mere inches from yours, flustering you.

“W-what are you doing?” You questioned.

“Mmm, I’m just deciding where it would be best to put your tattoo to be part of our organization. Perhaps the neck… or maybe elsewhere.” He hummed.

While he was close, Chrollo boldly connected his lips to yours and earned a sharp inhale of surprise from you. You froze in place from the unexpected kiss with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, practically swooning on the spot. If you moved even a little you’d fall for sure. Despite the shock, you found his lips to be incredibly soft, and the kiss rather tender as well.

When he pulled back from you, your expression remained quite shocked, and he laughed at you quietly as you started to sway.

“For someone who so openly said I was the most attractive member, you seem surprised.” He chuckled.

“I… y-you…”

“Come with me.” He said, brushing past you gently. “I need to properly introduce you to my comrades so you don’t get killed on sight.”

“Y-yeah, comin’.” You stammered.

With legs of jelly you slowly made your way to him, your mind still racing like crazy. You expected to be dead by now, but instead got a job offer and a kiss. This was not how you expected your night to go at all, and you’d be lying if you said you weren't excited by Chrollo’s sudden interest in you. It seemed that both of you had been researching each other, and now an unexpected and unique relationship began to bloom between you. It wasn’t clear as to what you were right now, but at least now money wouldn’t be a problem.

What a strange turn your life had taken.

[omgsquee2001]

Fan Art

Hi everyone. I've noticed that my new story, 'The Girl with the Crescent Mark' isn't getting a lot of love, only really being liked and rebloged by myself. (Yes, I like and reblog my own stories, fight me). Anyway, I wanted to see if anyone would be interested in creating some fan art of Idris and Leorio. You don't have to be good at drawing or anything like that. I do ask that it is Safe For Work. If you want to create fan art, let me know and I will tell you how to submit it. This is my first time asking for fan art for one of my stories, so please be kind to me. Anyway, I hope you all are having a lovely day/night.

[omgsquee2001]

Fan Art

Hi everyone. I've noticed that my new story, 'The Girl with the Crescent Mark' isn't getting a lot of love, only really being liked and rebloged by myself. (Yes, I like and reblog my own stories, fight me). Anyway, I wanted to see if anyone would be interested in creating some fan art of Idris and Leorio. You don't have to be good at drawing or anything like that. I do ask that it is Safe For Work. If you want to create fan art, let me know and I will tell you how to submit it. This is my first time asking for fan art for one of my stories, so please be kind to me. Anyway, I hope you all are having a lovely day/night.

[omgsquee2001]

 Chapter 5: Hisoka x is so x Sneaky

"I see. I see. That settles it, then. So you are the real one."

"The Examiners are Hunters. Each hand-picked by the Exam Committee to do this job without pay. Anyone who holds the title we're vying for ourselves could have deflected that attack, and quite easily, I might add."

"I shall take that as a compliment. Thank you. Still, should you choose to attack me again for any reason, I will have no choice but to report you for attacking an Examiner and have you immediately disqualified. Is that clear?"

"Of course."

~~~~

The 368 applicants who made it through the underground tunnel find themselves in an unexplored land teeming with strange creatures, known as the Milsy Wetlands. The group ran after Satoz, their feet sloshing in the wet grass of the wetlands. Idris panted as she ran next to Kurapika and Leorio. Leorio still had his suit top off, still tied around his waist. Gon and Killua were in the middle of the pack of people. The fog was getting thicker, making it harder and harder to see. 

"Now, everyone, please make sure to follow close behind me." Satoz called out. The land around them got darker as the fog grew thicker, making it feel eerie and off putting. 

"The fog is getting thicker as we go." Kurapika said. Idris squinted slightly. 

"I can hardly see in front of us." She panted. Leorio grunted. Idris caught Hisoka's bright red hair in the group. Her ears picked up some chatter between some of the applicants. 

"Guys, here's our chance. I say we take advantage of the fog and get rid of him." One of the applicants said, referring to Hisoka. Idris sighed. 

'I wouldn't do that if I were you. Hisoka doesn't seem like the type of man who will be taken down by a simple group of applicants.' Idris thought. Killua glanced behind him and Gon, his senses on overdrive. He could smell it on Hisoka. The smell of a killer. 

"Gon." Killua said. The green haired boy looked at Killua.

"Uh, yeah?" 

"Let's try to move up to the front." Killua said. Gon nodded. He was still carrying Leorio's brief case on his fishing pole. 

"Right. The last thing we want to do is lose sight of the examiner right now." Gon said.  

"I just want to put a little more distance between and us. Staying too close is dangerous. I can smell it." Killua said. Gon glanced at his new friend. 

"Smell huh?" He sniffed the air. "Huh? I don't think he smells." Gon said, clearly not getting what Killua meant. Gon glanced back behind his shoulder. "Hey Leorio, Idris, Kurapika! Killua says we should all move up to the front of the pack!" Gon shouted to his friends behind him. Killua glanced at Gon. 

"Hey, calm down. Don't you feel the tension in the air?" Killua said, trying to keep their plan a secret. He didn't quite understand yet what it meant to have friends, or the fact of having each other's backs. Leorio growled. 

"You idiot! If I could reach the front, I'd be there!" Leorio shouted back. Idris panted. 

"You both keep going! We'll meet you there!" Idris shouted to Gon.  Gon pouted. 

"Aww!" Gon whined. Killua looked at Gon. 

"Come on. Let's go." Killua urged. Killua continued forward. 

"Wait! Hold on!" Gon shouted, running after his new friend. As Idris, Kurapika and Leorio ran through the wetlands, the fog got thicker. Idris could barely see the person in front of her. Her senses were on high alert. Kurapika panted as he ran, Idris in the middle of the two boys. 

"This is bad. With this fog, we can't tell which way we're going." Kurapika said. Idris panted as she ran next to the two boys. 

"It's okay, as long as we don't lose sight of the guys ahead of us." Leorio said. As if on cue, the heads of the people in front of the three friends, seemed to slide right off. Idris' eyes widened. Leorio let out a shriek. "What in the hell is going on right now?!" Leorio shouted. Idris growled and moved one arm out straight, the other bent at her waist. Her right hand's fingers were splayed out. Her left hand was angled towards the ground, ready to draw the water up from the ground in an attack if need be. Idris' narrowed her eyes. 

"What the hell?" She murmured. 

"Woah! What is that?" Leorio asked. One of the applicants walked forwards. He suddenly disappeared.  The man was suddenly swallowed up by a tortoise with strawberries on its shell. The applicants stared screaming and running away. More tortoises appeared, swallowing up more and more applicants. Idris' eyes widened. Leorio, Kurapika and Idris all backed up, their backs touching as they stood together. The beasts surrounded the three friends. Idris raised her arms, ready to protect her friends. Further in the forest, more applicants were running through the forest. Multicolored mushrooms lay on the ground. As the applicants stepped on them, the mushrooms burst, sending out a sort of dust. As the dust settled on the applicants, the suddenly started sprouting mushrooms of their own on their heads, killing them. Further across the field, applicants were running through the fog. Suddenly, purple glowing lights appeared. 

"Huh? What's that?" An applicant asked. They were butterflies. As the butterflies moved around, the applicants followed its movement, suddenly falling to the ground. Imori, Amori and Umori were lost in the fog as well with some other applicants. 

"Damn! Which way are we supposed to go?" Imori asked. 

"Did we lose sight of him?" Amori asked. A voice called from within the fog. 

"Now, everyone, please make sure to follow close behind me." The voice called. It was Satoz. Umori turned to look to where the voice was coming from. 

"He's over there!" Umori shouted. The brothers and the applicants rushed towards the voice. The applicants in front of the brothers suddenly fell, screaming as they did. The brothers stopped. Ahead of them, was a hole in the ground with spikes. Most of the applicants had been impaled. A crow flew overhead. It spoke in Satoz's voice. 

"Now everyone, caw! Be sure to follow close behind me! Caw!" The crow called. The brothers watched the crow. 

"It can imitate human speech?" Amori wondered aloud. 

"That sure was really close." Umori said. Far up ahead, Killua and Gon were running together, not close to the back, but not close to the front either. 

"I wonder what's happening. I can hear people screaming all around us." Gon said, looking around nervously. 

"That's why we need to be careful." Killua said. Gon's mind wondered to Leorio, Kurapika and Idris, wondering how his friends were doing, if they were any of the people who had screamed. 

"I haven't seen Idris and the guys in a while. I just hope they're safe." Gon said, his worry getting the best of him. As they kept running, something felt off. Suddenly, the ground below them gave way, causing both boys to scream. A giant frog snapped its mouth shut, swallowing the two boys. The frog walked out of its hiding place, stomping through the forest. Meanwhile, Leorio was holding onto a log that was lodged between a tortoise's mouth. He screamed as he was flung this way and that. Idris' eyes widened. 

"Leorio!" She shouted. As the tortoise tried to close its mouth, the log was threatening to break. Idris growled. "Kurapika!" She shouted. She stomped on the ground and raised her arm, her hand curled into a fist. A piece of earth shot up, launching Kurapika into the air. Midair, Kurapika grabbed his weapon, aiming for the tortoise's eye. Grunting, he jammed his weapon into the beast's eye. The tortoise let out a pained roar, dropping the log and Leorio. Idris' eyes widened, and she rushed over to Leorio, helping him sit up. "Leorio! Are you okay?" She asked. Leorio let out a pained grunt, looking at the woman. 

"Y-Yeah. I'm okay." He said through gritted teeth. Kurapika jumped down from the tortoise, looking at the two. 

"Leorio, Idris, now's our chance! Come on!" Kurapika shouted. Pulling Leorio up by his arm, the three friends ran further into the fog. 

The giant frog stomped its way through the wetlands, holding the two now swallowed boys in its stomach. The frog paused, then suddenly threw up, spewing the boys onto the ground. After vomiting, the frog continued on its way, ignoring Killua and Gon. Gon chuckled nervously. 

"I guess he must not have liked the way we tasted, huh?" Gon said, rubbing the back of his head. Killua picked up the can of juice that Tonpa had given him before the start of the first exam. 

"It was this stuff." Killua said. Gon looked to his friend. 

"Oh! The drink Tonpa had. I guess that's what saved us." Gon said. Killua threw the can onto the ground. 

"Yeah. Probably so, but I could've escaped without it." Killua said nonchalantly. Gon looked in a different direction. 

"I'm still pretty worried about Idris, Leorio and Kurapika." Gon said. Killua stood up. He glanced at the green haired boy. 

"Forget about 'em. We need to keep moving. We can still make it if we start now." Killua said. Without a second thought, Killua started running again. Gon stood up as well, looking to Killua as he raced off. Gon started off after Killua as well. He then paused. His stomach sank with worry. He couldn't just abandon his friends. He thought about each one of his friends' dreams. Leorio, wanting to get money so he could heal every child that was sick free of charge. Kurapika, wanting to avenge his clan and take back their eyes. And Idris, wanting to become stronger for her clan, and to find Hama. If they died during the exam, they wouldn't be able to complete each of their dreams. And Gon wasn't about to let that happen. He had to turn back and find them. 

Idris, Leorio and Kurapika raced through the wet lands. 

"It looks like we've lost sight the front-runners." Idris said, worry in her voice. She and the boys looked around, trying to see if they could spot Satoz or Gon. Leorio growled. 

"Damn it. Which way should we go?" Leorio asked. Suddenly, Leorio caught sight of Hisoka, surrounded by other applicants. Leorio's eyes widened. Leorio gasped. He held his arms in front of Idris and Kurapika. "Hold on." He said quietly. Idris looked at the older male. 

"What is it, Leorio?" She asked quietly. Leorio pointed to Hisoka. 

"Look over there." He said. Kurapika and Idris turned their gazes towards the man. Applicant number 76 seemed to be the leader. Hisoka didn't look worried at all that he was surrounded by other applicants. 

"You're not Hunter material." The applicant said. Idris narrowed her eyes as she watched. "I've been thinking that ever since we met last year." He said. Applicant number 67 pointed his weapon at Hisoka. 

"We'll spare your life if you promise you'll never take the Hunter Exam again." He said. Idris narrowed her eyes. 

"They're playing examiner." Idris whispered. "This can't be legal." She said. Kurapika looked at her. 

"You have to remember that there are no rules when it comes to the applicants against each other. If there were rules, Tonpa wouldn't have been able to trick us like he did before." Kurapika whispered. Idris sighed. There were so many things about the Hunter Exam that didn't sit well with her. Hisoka smirked. 

"Sure, why not?" Hisoka said. Idris' eyes widened. 

'There's no way he would just give up like that.' She thought. 

"I intend to pass, so there's no need to retake it." Hisoka said. One of the applicants stepped forward, brandishing his weapons. 

"Oh yeah? You idiot. Just look at this fog. Do you really think you can figure out  which way the main pack went in all this?" The applicant asked. 

"He's right. We all failed this year. No way we can catch up with everyone else." Another applicant said. Hisoka chuckled confidently. Idris narrowed her eyes, interested in seeing what he would do next. 

"That's it, then?" Hisoka asked. "You failed, so now you want to play examiner? Hunters require prey, so why don't I play examiner then? All of you gentlemen claim to be Hunter material, but I'll be the judge." Hisoka said. With that, he pulled out a card. With that, the other applicants rushed in to attack him. Immediately, Idris knew this wouldn't end well. In a perfect circle, with just a swipe of his hand, the applicants fell to the ground dead. Idris' eyes widened and a bead of sweat slipped down her cheek. 

"Such speed and accuracy." She said quietly. The applicant who had started the mess in the first place, was gasping in fear. Hisoka turned to the man.

"Now then," Hisoka said. The applicant fell back, then started crawling away, begging for his life. Hisoka walked calmly towards the man, making his death inevitable. 

"Help. Help me." The applicant begged. His pleas were cut off when he was stabbed in the back of the head by a single card. The applicant fell face first into the wet grass. Leorio, Kurapika and Idris all stared in shock at what had happened. Hisoka had killed all the applicants with no remorse. It was shocking to Idris how a man like that, who had attacked an examiner last year, and nearly did this year, was able to return and retake the Hunter Exam. Hisoka reached down and pulled the card out of the man's head. 

"Well?" Hisoka glanced in the direction of the three friends, his yellow eyes piercing right into Idris' soul. She gulped. Out of instinct, she gripped Leorio's wrist. Neither paid attention to the action, too focused on the man in front of them. "How about you three? Care to play examiner?" Hisoka asked. Idris gulped, her grip on Leorio's wrist tightening slightly, but not enough to hurt him. For the first time since she left her home, she felt genuine fear for her life. For her friends' lives. There was no doubt in Idris' mind, this man would kill them if given the chance. 

Further up ahead, Killua had found the rest of the group. He chuckled. 

"Alright. We caught up with the man group, Gon! Look!" Killua said. When he got no response, he looked behind him, seeing that his new friend wasn't with him. "That's weird. He was right here a minute ago." Killua said. Back with Idris and the boys, Hisoka walked slowly towards them. Leorio grunted, sweat dripping down his cheek. His hand and Idris' hand had now moved to holding, Leorio tightening his grip on her hand. Idris narrowed her blue eyes, gulping, but trying not to show fear. Kurapika stood, ready to run a moment's notice. 

"Okay, Leorio, Idris, wait for my signal." Kurapika said quietly. Idris glanced at the young boy. 

"I hope you've got a plan." She whispered. Kurapika nodded. 

"I do. When I give the signal, we run in opposite directions." Kurapika said. Leorio looked at Kurapika in confusion. 

"We what?" Leorio asked. 

"The fact of the matter is he's far more experienced in actual combat situations. The three of us won't stand a chance against him." Kurapika said. Idris nodded. 

"Kurapika's right. Even with my powers, I'm no match against him." Idris said. Hisoka continued to walk calmly towards the three. "And we're short on time and we can't afford to waste more on a fight we can't even win." Idris said. Leorio turned his gaze back towards Hisoka, surveying the dead bodies that were left in the man's wake. Leorio growled. He tightened his grip on Idris' hand. Kurapika let out shaky breaths, waiting for the right time to run. Kurapika's eyes watched Hisoka's every movement. When the man slipped a card between his index and middle finger, raising it up to his body. 

"Now run!" Kurapika shouted. The three took off in opposite directions, Kurapika running to the left, and Idris and Leorio running to the right, still holding hands. Hisoka smiled. 

"Hmm. I see. A wise decision." He said, chuckling to himself. 

As Leorio and Idris kept running, Leorio growled, coming to a stop. Idris looked at the man, panting. 

"Why'd you stop? We need to keep going. We're going to run out of time for reaching the second phase." Idris said. Leorio growled, letting go of Idris' hand. Idris furrowed her brow. "Leorio?" She asked. Leorio looked at her. 

"I can't do it. I can't leave knowing what Hisoka did." Leorio growled. Idris looked at him. 

"Leorio, don't be stupid! Hisoka will kill you. You saw what he did to those men. Please, let's just think about this." Idris pleaded. Leorio looked up at her, determination in his eyes. 

"You keep going, Idris. I'll meet you at the second phase. Promise." Leorio said. With that, he picked up a broken branch and started walking back. Idris stared at Leorio in shock. 

"Leorio! Leorio, please! Don't! You're going to get yourself killed!" She shouted. Her words fell on deaf ears. Idris growled and clenched her hands into fists. She glared up at the spot where Leorio was once standing. "You're not dying. Not if I can help it." She raced back to the place they had run from. 

Hisoka looked into the mist, seeing the form of Leorio walking back, holding a broken branch. 

"I just couldn't do it." Leorio said. Hisoka's eyes narrowed and he smiled wider. "This may not be my fight, like Idris said, but I can't sit back and pretend nothing happened. That's not my style." Leorio said. "See the thing is I can't run away! No matter how much she may want me to!" Leorio shouted. Kurapika glanced back. 

"Leorio!" He shouted. With a yell, Leorio ran at Hisoka. Idris got to the edge of the spot where Leorio and Hisoka were. Her eyes widened. 

"Leorio!" She shouted. Hisoka stood still as Leorio ran at him. 

"Hmm. I adore that look." Hisoka said, smiling and licking his lips. Leorio continued to run towards Hisoka. As Leorio moved to strike Hisoka, Hisoka's form suddenly vanished. Leorio stared in shock. As Hisoka moved behind Leorio, he reached a hand out to grab the man. Idris growled. She rose her arms up, the water bending to her will from the wet grass. Moving her arm back and forward, she struck Hisoka in the back of the neck, getting the man's attention. Hisoka let out a surprised gasp. He turned his attention to Idris, who growled, staring at Hisoka. 

"Leave him alone, creep!" She shouted. Hisoka looked at her, a look that shocked her to her soul. Hisoka chuckled. 

"My, my. Coming to defend your friend?" Hisoka asked. "How adorable." 

Idris growled, raising both arms and taking an attacking stance. 

"I said, leave him alone." She growled. Hisoka chuckled. He started walking slowly towards her. Leorio's eyes widened. 

"Idris!" Leorio shouted. Idris growled and started moving her arms around rapidly, creating sharp blades of water, sending them towards the approaching man. To Idris' surprise and horror, Hisoka managed to dodge each and every one of the water attacks. Idris' eyes widened. With a crazed look in his eyes, Hisoka lunged at the girl. Just before she could raise her arms to defend herself, the red end of a fishing hook struck Hisoka in the temple, drawing blood. Idris' eyes widened. Idris turned to look behind her in shock. The form of Gon was seen in the mist. He was panting heavily, having run all the way back to make sure his friends were okay. 

"Gon!" Both Idris and Leorio shouted. Gon gripped his fishing pole handle. 

"Did I make it?" Gon asked. Idris looked at Gon in shock. 

"Gon, what are you doing?! Get out of here!" She shouted. Gon kept his glare on Hisoka. 

"Not going to happen, Idris. I came back to make sure that you, Leorio and Kurapika were alright, and that's what I'm going to do." He said. Idris' eyes widened. A fire of determination burned in Gon's eyes. There was no way Idris would be able to talk him out of leaving. Hisoka turned his attention to Gon. He wore a smirk. 

"Not bad, little boy." Hisoka said. Gon gripped his fishing pole tighter. "Is that a fishing pole? How original." Hisoka started walking towards Gon. Idris, who was standing to the right of Gon, glared at Hisoka. Hisoka held out his hand. "I'd like to see it. Do you mind?" Hisoka said. Gon tightened his grip on his fishing pole. 

"Leave him alone." Leorio said, now standing up. He moved to attack Hisoka again with the broken branch. "Your fight's with me!" Leorio shouted. Idris' eyes widened.

"Leorio, don't!" Idris shouted. Before Leorio could make a hit on Hisoka, he was uppercut in the jaw, sending him flying. Idris' eyes widened. "Leorio!" She shouted. She was about to run and help him, but a card went flying and struck her in the shoulder. Idris cried out in pain, falling to one knee. Gon's eyes widened. With Hisoka's back turned, Gon tried to attack the clown again, swinging his fishing line at the man. Hisoka disappeared in a gust of smoke again. Gon's eyes widened. Gon landed on the ground, resting on one knee. Gon looked around for any sign of Hisoka. 

"Did you come here to help your friends?" Hisoka asked from behind the boy. Gon gasped, seeing Hisoka sitting behind him, chin resting in his hand. Idris grunted as she looked up at the boy, gripping her bleeding shoulder. 

"G-Gon!" Idris cried out, her voice laced with pain. Gon launched himself back with a jump, putting some distance between him and Hisoka. Hisoka appeared behind Gon again. 

"Such a good boy." Hisoka said. Gon swung his fishing pole again, watching as Hisoka vanished into smoke again. Hisoka appeared a few inches away from Gon, his arms crossed. Hisoka smirked. "Hmm. I adore that look." Hisoka said. Gon gasped, and continuously swung his fishing pole, trying to strike Hisoka. The clown dodged ever strike sent his way. "Well done. Very nice." Hisoka commented, continuing to walk towards Gon. A crazed look took over Hisoka's eyes. "I'm beginning to get excited." Hisoka said, an excited shake to his voice. He continued to dodge Gon's attacks. Gon grunted. 

"Right." Gon swung his fishing line again. This time, he angled it down, striking the ground before Hisoka, creating a distraction. Gon appeared behind Hisoka, preparing to swing his fishing pole with a yell. In an instant, Hisoka's hand reached out and gripped Gon's throat. Gon grunted, loosing his air. Idris' eyes widened. 

"Gon! No!" She shouted. She tried to stand up to help, but stumbled to her knees. Gon's fishing pole clattered to the ground, the boy gripping Hisoka's wrist, trying to make him let go. "Let him go, you creep!" Idris shouted at Hisoka. Her shouts were falling on deaf ears. Hisoka let out a chuckle, excited look flashing in his eyes. 

"It's so delightful." Hisoka's eyes rose, squinting in delight. "I love that look." Hisoka said. In a moment, Gon stopped struggling, falling limp. Hisoka's excited expression fell, and he released Gon. Gon fell to his knees, coughing.   Hisoka knelt down to Gon. 

"Don't worry. I didn't kill your friends," Hisoka glanced back at Idris. She glared at Hisoka. "They're going to be just fine." Hisoka said. He smiled at Gon. "And that's because, they passed." Hisoka said. Idris' eyes widened in surprise. 

'Passed? What does he mean by Leorio and I passed?' Idris thought. Hisoka chuckled. 

"And yes, you pass as well." Hisoka said to Gon, giving him a closed eyed smile. "Now you and your friend go and become good Hunters." Hisoka said. A radio suddenly started beeping. Hisoka picked it up and answered. 

"Hisoka, you should get back here. We've almost reached the site of the second phase." A man over the radio said. Hisoka sighed. 

"Okay. Be right there." Hisoka said before hanging up. He pocketed the radio. "It's good to have friends, isn't it?" Hisoka asked, picking up Leorio and putting him over his shoulder. Hisoka looked back at Gon. "Can you find your own way back?" Hisoka asked. Gon hesitantly nodded. Hisoka smiled. "Good boy." Hisoka said. With that, Hisoka started walking off, with an unconscious Leorio over his shoulder. Hisoka's form disappeared into the fog. Gon sat there, still on his hands and knees. He let out shaking breaths. Idris grunted in pain as she yanked out the card in her shoulder, dropping it to the ground. She rushed over to Gon. 

"Gon! Are you okay?" She knelt next to the boy. Gon kept staring at the spot where Hisoka had been, letting out shaky breaths. Sweat beaded down his cheek. Idris looked at Gon in worry. "Gon?" She asked. 

"Gon! Idris! Are you alright?" Kurapika's voice sounded. Idris and Gon looked back, seeing Kurapika's form com running back from the fog. Kurapika knelt next to Gon, on his other side. Kurapika looked to Idris. His eyes widened, seeing the cut on her shoulder. Her shirt had been ripped, exposing the bleeding gash from the card Hisoka had thrown. "Idris, you're hurt." Kurapika said. Idris looked to her shoulder. 

"I'll be fine. I'm more worried about Gon." She said. Gon looked at her, sitting up on his knees. 

"I'm fine, Idris. I promise." The boy said. Idris looked at him, unconvinced. She sighed, knowing she wouldn't be able to get through to him. She stood up. She brought her arm up, bending her wrist and bringing her fingers together. A stream of water from the ground followed her movements. Clenching her hands into a fist, she made the water surround her hand. Her eyes began to glow white, the crescent moon on her forehead glowed white as well. She brought her hand to her wound. The water glowed, surrounding the wound. When Idris pulled her hand away and her eyes stopped glowing, the wound was healed. The water stopped glowing as well. She threw her hand to the side, sending the water into the grass again. She looked to the boys. 

"We should start heading back. The first phase is about to be done, I'm sure of it." She said. 

The rest of the applicants had reached the site of the second phase, including Killua. Killua looked around for Gon. 

"Aw, man. Where is he? I was sure Gon would be here." Killua said to himself. Killua looked around. He spotted the brothers, and Tonpa. Satoz looked down at his watch, keeping an eye on the trial to the second phase. 

Further within the forest, Gon, Idris and Kurapika were rushing along the path, apparently following Gon's nose. 

"This way!" Gon shouted, leading his two friends. Idris looked at Kurapika. 

"So he can really tell by the way it smells?" She asked him. Kurapika shrugged. Gon answered Idris' question. 

"Leorio's always wearing this very unique kind of cologne. I can smell him from a few kilometers away." Gon explained. Idris hummed. 

"Huh." 

"Hey, I've been thinking," Gon said. "What do you think Hisoka was talking about when he said Leorio, Idris and I passed?" Gon asked. Idris looked down. 

"I was wondering the same thing." She said. 

"I'm not sure, but I think he might have been playing judge." Kurapika said. 

"Judge?" Gon asked. Idris looked at Kurapika. 

"So, just like how those men before, Hisoka was talking about them playing examiner." She said. Kurapika nodded. 

"Yes. However, not quite like that. Hisoka must have his own benchmarks for evaluating a person's power. It's possible that he was measuring the strength of each applicant. Apparently, you, Idris and Leorio met his standards, whatever those happen to be. He might also just be interested in Idris' powers, and knowing that Gon is friends with her, might be a means for him to get closer to Idris for her powers." Kurapika said. Gon hummed. 

"Okay. Right. That makes sense. But I was powerless to do anything to stop him." Gon said. Idris looked at the boy. 

"You landed your first hit on him. That's something, right?" She asked. 

"That's only because I surprised him. You also got a hit on him too, Idris." Gon said. Idris hummed. 

"What I don't understand is, Leorio didn't win his fight, but Hisoka passed him anyway." She said. Kurapika hummed. 

"Hmm. I wonder. He could have sensed that the three of your were sort of kindred spirits." Kurapika said. Gon glanced at him. 

"He sensed it?" Gon asked. 

"It's possible that Hisoka could qualify as a Hunter, but I sincerely doubt it." Kurapika said. "However, I must admit that I'm impressed by his superhuman agility and the gracefulness of his technique." Kurapika said. Idris hummed. 

"There's something my Grandmother always told me before she passed. 'Those who are blessed with unique talents are often drawn to others with unique gifts of their own.' It's likely that, based on Hisoka's intuition and experience, Hisoka could tell that all three of us had the skill and potential to become Hunters." Idris said. Kurapika nodded. 

"Idris is right. So, from Hisoka's perspective, killing all three of you now would have been a waste of time. Especially for Idris and her powers." Kurapika said. Kurapika's eyes widened. "Oh, no. Sorry. That must sound horrible." Kurapika said. Gon shook his head. 

"Mm-mm." 

Idris smiled slightly. 

"It's fine, Kurapika. Before our journey, the Navigator said that I should keep my powers hidden, least someone want to use my powers for evil intent." She chuckled slightly. "I guess I haven't done a very good job of that, huh?" She said. Gon chuckled. 

"I've gotta say, it was actually pretty exciting back there." Gon said. Idris looked down at the boy. 

"Exciting?" She asked. 

"I was so scared that all I wanted to do was run away, but I couldn't. Not only could I not leave Idris behind, it was because I was excited at the same time." Gon said. He looked back at Idris and Kurapika. "Isn't that weird?" Gon said. Idris' eyes widened. She then chuckled. 

"You really are something, Gon." She said, making Gon laugh. The three friends continued to run down the path, getting closer and closer to the second phase. 

Gon and Idris had experienced mortal fear for the first time, and although the unfamiliar feelings that accompany that fear are quite confusing, at least to Gon, Gon cannot help but give in to his growing curiosity. Idris wonders if she will continue to use her powers, or, like the Navigator had advised, keep her powers a secret from the rest of the applicants in the Hunter Exam, especially from Hisoka. At this stage, 220 candidates have withdrawn from the exam, and 148 remain.   

[omgsquee2001]

 Chapter 5: Hisoka x is so x Sneaky

"I see. I see. That settles it, then. So you are the real one."

"The Examiners are Hunters. Each hand-picked by the Exam Committee to do this job without pay. Anyone who holds the title we're vying for ourselves could have deflected that attack, and quite easily, I might add."

"I shall take that as a compliment. Thank you. Still, should you choose to attack me again for any reason, I will have no choice but to report you for attacking an Examiner and have you immediately disqualified. Is that clear?"

"Of course."

~~~~

The 368 applicants who made it through the underground tunnel find themselves in an unexplored land teeming with strange creatures, known as the Milsy Wetlands. The group ran after Satoz, their feet sloshing in the wet grass of the wetlands. Idris panted as she ran next to Kurapika and Leorio. Leorio still had his suit top off, still tied around his waist. Gon and Killua were in the middle of the pack of people. The fog was getting thicker, making it harder and harder to see. 

"Now, everyone, please make sure to follow close behind me." Satoz called out. The land around them got darker as the fog grew thicker, making it feel eerie and off putting. 

"The fog is getting thicker as we go." Kurapika said. Idris squinted slightly. 

"I can hardly see in front of us." She panted. Leorio grunted. Idris caught Hisoka's bright red hair in the group. Her ears picked up some chatter between some of the applicants. 

"Guys, here's our chance. I say we take advantage of the fog and get rid of him." One of the applicants said, referring to Hisoka. Idris sighed. 

'I wouldn't do that if I were you. Hisoka doesn't seem like the type of man who will be taken down by a simple group of applicants.' Idris thought. Killua glanced behind him and Gon, his senses on overdrive. He could smell it on Hisoka. The smell of a killer. 

"Gon." Killua said. The green haired boy looked at Killua.

"Uh, yeah?" 

"Let's try to move up to the front." Killua said. Gon nodded. He was still carrying Leorio's brief case on his fishing pole. 

"Right. The last thing we want to do is lose sight of the examiner right now." Gon said.  

"I just want to put a little more distance between and us. Staying too close is dangerous. I can smell it." Killua said. Gon glanced at his new friend. 

"Smell huh?" He sniffed the air. "Huh? I don't think he smells." Gon said, clearly not getting what Killua meant. Gon glanced back behind his shoulder. "Hey Leorio, Idris, Kurapika! Killua says we should all move up to the front of the pack!" Gon shouted to his friends behind him. Killua glanced at Gon. 

"Hey, calm down. Don't you feel the tension in the air?" Killua said, trying to keep their plan a secret. He didn't quite understand yet what it meant to have friends, or the fact of having each other's backs. Leorio growled. 

"You idiot! If I could reach the front, I'd be there!" Leorio shouted back. Idris panted. 

"You both keep going! We'll meet you there!" Idris shouted to Gon.  Gon pouted. 

"Aww!" Gon whined. Killua looked at Gon. 

"Come on. Let's go." Killua urged. Killua continued forward. 

"Wait! Hold on!" Gon shouted, running after his new friend. As Idris, Kurapika and Leorio ran through the wetlands, the fog got thicker. Idris could barely see the person in front of her. Her senses were on high alert. Kurapika panted as he ran, Idris in the middle of the two boys. 

"This is bad. With this fog, we can't tell which way we're going." Kurapika said. Idris panted as she ran next to the two boys. 

"It's okay, as long as we don't lose sight of the guys ahead of us." Leorio said. As if on cue, the heads of the people in front of the three friends, seemed to slide right off. Idris' eyes widened. Leorio let out a shriek. "What in the hell is going on right now?!" Leorio shouted. Idris growled and moved one arm out straight, the other bent at her waist. Her right hand's fingers were splayed out. Her left hand was angled towards the ground, ready to draw the water up from the ground in an attack if need be. Idris' narrowed her eyes. 

"What the hell?" She murmured. 

"Woah! What is that?" Leorio asked. One of the applicants walked forwards. He suddenly disappeared.  The man was suddenly swallowed up by a tortoise with strawberries on its shell. The applicants stared screaming and running away. More tortoises appeared, swallowing up more and more applicants. Idris' eyes widened. Leorio, Kurapika and Idris all backed up, their backs touching as they stood together. The beasts surrounded the three friends. Idris raised her arms, ready to protect her friends. Further in the forest, more applicants were running through the forest. Multicolored mushrooms lay on the ground. As the applicants stepped on them, the mushrooms burst, sending out a sort of dust. As the dust settled on the applicants, the suddenly started sprouting mushrooms of their own on their heads, killing them. Further across the field, applicants were running through the fog. Suddenly, purple glowing lights appeared. 

"Huh? What's that?" An applicant asked. They were butterflies. As the butterflies moved around, the applicants followed its movement, suddenly falling to the ground. Imori, Amori and Umori were lost in the fog as well with some other applicants. 

"Damn! Which way are we supposed to go?" Imori asked. 

"Did we lose sight of him?" Amori asked. A voice called from within the fog. 

"Now, everyone, please make sure to follow close behind me." The voice called. It was Satoz. Umori turned to look to where the voice was coming from. 

"He's over there!" Umori shouted. The brothers and the applicants rushed towards the voice. The applicants in front of the brothers suddenly fell, screaming as they did. The brothers stopped. Ahead of them, was a hole in the ground with spikes. Most of the applicants had been impaled. A crow flew overhead. It spoke in Satoz's voice. 

"Now everyone, caw! Be sure to follow close behind me! Caw!" The crow called. The brothers watched the crow. 

"It can imitate human speech?" Amori wondered aloud. 

"That sure was really close." Umori said. Far up ahead, Killua and Gon were running together, not close to the back, but not close to the front either. 

"I wonder what's happening. I can hear people screaming all around us." Gon said, looking around nervously. 

"That's why we need to be careful." Killua said. Gon's mind wondered to Leorio, Kurapika and Idris, wondering how his friends were doing, if they were any of the people who had screamed. 

"I haven't seen Idris and the guys in a while. I just hope they're safe." Gon said, his worry getting the best of him. As they kept running, something felt off. Suddenly, the ground below them gave way, causing both boys to scream. A giant frog snapped its mouth shut, swallowing the two boys. The frog walked out of its hiding place, stomping through the forest. Meanwhile, Leorio was holding onto a log that was lodged between a tortoise's mouth. He screamed as he was flung this way and that. Idris' eyes widened. 

"Leorio!" She shouted. As the tortoise tried to close its mouth, the log was threatening to break. Idris growled. "Kurapika!" She shouted. She stomped on the ground and raised her arm, her hand curled into a fist. A piece of earth shot up, launching Kurapika into the air. Midair, Kurapika grabbed his weapon, aiming for the tortoise's eye. Grunting, he jammed his weapon into the beast's eye. The tortoise let out a pained roar, dropping the log and Leorio. Idris' eyes widened, and she rushed over to Leorio, helping him sit up. "Leorio! Are you okay?" She asked. Leorio let out a pained grunt, looking at the woman. 

"Y-Yeah. I'm okay." He said through gritted teeth. Kurapika jumped down from the tortoise, looking at the two. 

"Leorio, Idris, now's our chance! Come on!" Kurapika shouted. Pulling Leorio up by his arm, the three friends ran further into the fog. 

The giant frog stomped its way through the wetlands, holding the two now swallowed boys in its stomach. The frog paused, then suddenly threw up, spewing the boys onto the ground. After vomiting, the frog continued on its way, ignoring Killua and Gon. Gon chuckled nervously. 

"I guess he must not have liked the way we tasted, huh?" Gon said, rubbing the back of his head. Killua picked up the can of juice that Tonpa had given him before the start of the first exam. 

"It was this stuff." Killua said. Gon looked to his friend. 

"Oh! The drink Tonpa had. I guess that's what saved us." Gon said. Killua threw the can onto the ground. 

"Yeah. Probably so, but I could've escaped without it." Killua said nonchalantly. Gon looked in a different direction. 

"I'm still pretty worried about Idris, Leorio and Kurapika." Gon said. Killua stood up. He glanced at the green haired boy. 

"Forget about 'em. We need to keep moving. We can still make it if we start now." Killua said. Without a second thought, Killua started running again. Gon stood up as well, looking to Killua as he raced off. Gon started off after Killua as well. He then paused. His stomach sank with worry. He couldn't just abandon his friends. He thought about each one of his friends' dreams. Leorio, wanting to get money so he could heal every child that was sick free of charge. Kurapika, wanting to avenge his clan and take back their eyes. And Idris, wanting to become stronger for her clan, and to find Hama. If they died during the exam, they wouldn't be able to complete each of their dreams. And Gon wasn't about to let that happen. He had to turn back and find them. 

Idris, Leorio and Kurapika raced through the wet lands. 

"It looks like we've lost sight the front-runners." Idris said, worry in her voice. She and the boys looked around, trying to see if they could spot Satoz or Gon. Leorio growled. 

"Damn it. Which way should we go?" Leorio asked. Suddenly, Leorio caught sight of Hisoka, surrounded by other applicants. Leorio's eyes widened. Leorio gasped. He held his arms in front of Idris and Kurapika. "Hold on." He said quietly. Idris looked at the older male. 

"What is it, Leorio?" She asked quietly. Leorio pointed to Hisoka. 

"Look over there." He said. Kurapika and Idris turned their gazes towards the man. Applicant number 76 seemed to be the leader. Hisoka didn't look worried at all that he was surrounded by other applicants. 

"You're not Hunter material." The applicant said. Idris narrowed her eyes as she watched. "I've been thinking that ever since we met last year." He said. Applicant number 67 pointed his weapon at Hisoka. 

"We'll spare your life if you promise you'll never take the Hunter Exam again." He said. Idris narrowed her eyes. 

"They're playing examiner." Idris whispered. "This can't be legal." She said. Kurapika looked at her. 

"You have to remember that there are no rules when it comes to the applicants against each other. If there were rules, Tonpa wouldn't have been able to trick us like he did before." Kurapika whispered. Idris sighed. There were so many things about the Hunter Exam that didn't sit well with her. Hisoka smirked. 

"Sure, why not?" Hisoka said. Idris' eyes widened. 

'There's no way he would just give up like that.' She thought. 

"I intend to pass, so there's no need to retake it." Hisoka said. One of the applicants stepped forward, brandishing his weapons. 

"Oh yeah? You idiot. Just look at this fog. Do you really think you can figure out  which way the main pack went in all this?" The applicant asked. 

"He's right. We all failed this year. No way we can catch up with everyone else." Another applicant said. Hisoka chuckled confidently. Idris narrowed her eyes, interested in seeing what he would do next. 

"That's it, then?" Hisoka asked. "You failed, so now you want to play examiner? Hunters require prey, so why don't I play examiner then? All of you gentlemen claim to be Hunter material, but I'll be the judge." Hisoka said. With that, he pulled out a card. With that, the other applicants rushed in to attack him. Immediately, Idris knew this wouldn't end well. In a perfect circle, with just a swipe of his hand, the applicants fell to the ground dead. Idris' eyes widened and a bead of sweat slipped down her cheek. 

"Such speed and accuracy." She said quietly. The applicant who had started the mess in the first place, was gasping in fear. Hisoka turned to the man.

"Now then," Hisoka said. The applicant fell back, then started crawling away, begging for his life. Hisoka walked calmly towards the man, making his death inevitable. 

"Help. Help me." The applicant begged. His pleas were cut off when he was stabbed in the back of the head by a single card. The applicant fell face first into the wet grass. Leorio, Kurapika and Idris all stared in shock at what had happened. Hisoka had killed all the applicants with no remorse. It was shocking to Idris how a man like that, who had attacked an examiner last year, and nearly did this year, was able to return and retake the Hunter Exam. Hisoka reached down and pulled the card out of the man's head. 

"Well?" Hisoka glanced in the direction of the three friends, his yellow eyes piercing right into Idris' soul. She gulped. Out of instinct, she gripped Leorio's wrist. Neither paid attention to the action, too focused on the man in front of them. "How about you three? Care to play examiner?" Hisoka asked. Idris gulped, her grip on Leorio's wrist tightening slightly, but not enough to hurt him. For the first time since she left her home, she felt genuine fear for her life. For her friends' lives. There was no doubt in Idris' mind, this man would kill them if given the chance. 

Further up ahead, Killua had found the rest of the group. He chuckled. 

"Alright. We caught up with the man group, Gon! Look!" Killua said. When he got no response, he looked behind him, seeing that his new friend wasn't with him. "That's weird. He was right here a minute ago." Killua said. Back with Idris and the boys, Hisoka walked slowly towards them. Leorio grunted, sweat dripping down his cheek. His hand and Idris' hand had now moved to holding, Leorio tightening his grip on her hand. Idris narrowed her blue eyes, gulping, but trying not to show fear. Kurapika stood, ready to run a moment's notice. 

"Okay, Leorio, Idris, wait for my signal." Kurapika said quietly. Idris glanced at the young boy. 

"I hope you've got a plan." She whispered. Kurapika nodded. 

"I do. When I give the signal, we run in opposite directions." Kurapika said. Leorio looked at Kurapika in confusion. 

"We what?" Leorio asked. 

"The fact of the matter is he's far more experienced in actual combat situations. The three of us won't stand a chance against him." Kurapika said. Idris nodded. 

"Kurapika's right. Even with my powers, I'm no match against him." Idris said. Hisoka continued to walk calmly towards the three. "And we're short on time and we can't afford to waste more on a fight we can't even win." Idris said. Leorio turned his gaze back towards Hisoka, surveying the dead bodies that were left in the man's wake. Leorio growled. He tightened his grip on Idris' hand. Kurapika let out shaky breaths, waiting for the right time to run. Kurapika's eyes watched Hisoka's every movement. When the man slipped a card between his index and middle finger, raising it up to his body. 

"Now run!" Kurapika shouted. The three took off in opposite directions, Kurapika running to the left, and Idris and Leorio running to the right, still holding hands. Hisoka smiled. 

"Hmm. I see. A wise decision." He said, chuckling to himself. 

As Leorio and Idris kept running, Leorio growled, coming to a stop. Idris looked at the man, panting. 

"Why'd you stop? We need to keep going. We're going to run out of time for reaching the second phase." Idris said. Leorio growled, letting go of Idris' hand. Idris furrowed her brow. "Leorio?" She asked. Leorio looked at her. 

"I can't do it. I can't leave knowing what Hisoka did." Leorio growled. Idris looked at him. 

"Leorio, don't be stupid! Hisoka will kill you. You saw what he did to those men. Please, let's just think about this." Idris pleaded. Leorio looked up at her, determination in his eyes. 

"You keep going, Idris. I'll meet you at the second phase. Promise." Leorio said. With that, he picked up a broken branch and started walking back. Idris stared at Leorio in shock. 

"Leorio! Leorio, please! Don't! You're going to get yourself killed!" She shouted. Her words fell on deaf ears. Idris growled and clenched her hands into fists. She glared up at the spot where Leorio was once standing. "You're not dying. Not if I can help it." She raced back to the place they had run from. 

Hisoka looked into the mist, seeing the form of Leorio walking back, holding a broken branch. 

"I just couldn't do it." Leorio said. Hisoka's eyes narrowed and he smiled wider. "This may not be my fight, like Idris said, but I can't sit back and pretend nothing happened. That's not my style." Leorio said. "See the thing is I can't run away! No matter how much she may want me to!" Leorio shouted. Kurapika glanced back. 

"Leorio!" He shouted. With a yell, Leorio ran at Hisoka. Idris got to the edge of the spot where Leorio and Hisoka were. Her eyes widened. 

"Leorio!" She shouted. Hisoka stood still as Leorio ran at him. 

"Hmm. I adore that look." Hisoka said, smiling and licking his lips. Leorio continued to run towards Hisoka. As Leorio moved to strike Hisoka, Hisoka's form suddenly vanished. Leorio stared in shock. As Hisoka moved behind Leorio, he reached a hand out to grab the man. Idris growled. She rose her arms up, the water bending to her will from the wet grass. Moving her arm back and forward, she struck Hisoka in the back of the neck, getting the man's attention. Hisoka let out a surprised gasp. He turned his attention to Idris, who growled, staring at Hisoka. 

"Leave him alone, creep!" She shouted. Hisoka looked at her, a look that shocked her to her soul. Hisoka chuckled. 

"My, my. Coming to defend your friend?" Hisoka asked. "How adorable." 

Idris growled, raising both arms and taking an attacking stance. 

"I said, leave him alone." She growled. Hisoka chuckled. He started walking slowly towards her. Leorio's eyes widened. 

"Idris!" Leorio shouted. Idris growled and started moving her arms around rapidly, creating sharp blades of water, sending them towards the approaching man. To Idris' surprise and horror, Hisoka managed to dodge each and every one of the water attacks. Idris' eyes widened. With a crazed look in his eyes, Hisoka lunged at the girl. Just before she could raise her arms to defend herself, the red end of a fishing hook struck Hisoka in the temple, drawing blood. Idris' eyes widened. Idris turned to look behind her in shock. The form of Gon was seen in the mist. He was panting heavily, having run all the way back to make sure his friends were okay. 

"Gon!" Both Idris and Leorio shouted. Gon gripped his fishing pole handle. 

"Did I make it?" Gon asked. Idris looked at Gon in shock. 

"Gon, what are you doing?! Get out of here!" She shouted. Gon kept his glare on Hisoka. 

"Not going to happen, Idris. I came back to make sure that you, Leorio and Kurapika were alright, and that's what I'm going to do." He said. Idris' eyes widened. A fire of determination burned in Gon's eyes. There was no way Idris would be able to talk him out of leaving. Hisoka turned his attention to Gon. He wore a smirk. 

"Not bad, little boy." Hisoka said. Gon gripped his fishing pole tighter. "Is that a fishing pole? How original." Hisoka started walking towards Gon. Idris, who was standing to the right of Gon, glared at Hisoka. Hisoka held out his hand. "I'd like to see it. Do you mind?" Hisoka said. Gon tightened his grip on his fishing pole. 

"Leave him alone." Leorio said, now standing up. He moved to attack Hisoka again with the broken branch. "Your fight's with me!" Leorio shouted. Idris' eyes widened.

"Leorio, don't!" Idris shouted. Before Leorio could make a hit on Hisoka, he was uppercut in the jaw, sending him flying. Idris' eyes widened. "Leorio!" She shouted. She was about to run and help him, but a card went flying and struck her in the shoulder. Idris cried out in pain, falling to one knee. Gon's eyes widened. With Hisoka's back turned, Gon tried to attack the clown again, swinging his fishing line at the man. Hisoka disappeared in a gust of smoke again. Gon's eyes widened. Gon landed on the ground, resting on one knee. Gon looked around for any sign of Hisoka. 

"Did you come here to help your friends?" Hisoka asked from behind the boy. Gon gasped, seeing Hisoka sitting behind him, chin resting in his hand. Idris grunted as she looked up at the boy, gripping her bleeding shoulder. 

"G-Gon!" Idris cried out, her voice laced with pain. Gon launched himself back with a jump, putting some distance between him and Hisoka. Hisoka appeared behind Gon again. 

"Such a good boy." Hisoka said. Gon swung his fishing pole again, watching as Hisoka vanished into smoke again. Hisoka appeared a few inches away from Gon, his arms crossed. Hisoka smirked. "Hmm. I adore that look." Hisoka said. Gon gasped, and continuously swung his fishing pole, trying to strike Hisoka. The clown dodged ever strike sent his way. "Well done. Very nice." Hisoka commented, continuing to walk towards Gon. A crazed look took over Hisoka's eyes. "I'm beginning to get excited." Hisoka said, an excited shake to his voice. He continued to dodge Gon's attacks. Gon grunted. 

"Right." Gon swung his fishing line again. This time, he angled it down, striking the ground before Hisoka, creating a distraction. Gon appeared behind Hisoka, preparing to swing his fishing pole with a yell. In an instant, Hisoka's hand reached out and gripped Gon's throat. Gon grunted, loosing his air. Idris' eyes widened. 

"Gon! No!" She shouted. She tried to stand up to help, but stumbled to her knees. Gon's fishing pole clattered to the ground, the boy gripping Hisoka's wrist, trying to make him let go. "Let him go, you creep!" Idris shouted at Hisoka. Her shouts were falling on deaf ears. Hisoka let out a chuckle, excited look flashing in his eyes. 

"It's so delightful." Hisoka's eyes rose, squinting in delight. "I love that look." Hisoka said. In a moment, Gon stopped struggling, falling limp. Hisoka's excited expression fell, and he released Gon. Gon fell to his knees, coughing.   Hisoka knelt down to Gon. 

"Don't worry. I didn't kill your friends," Hisoka glanced back at Idris. She glared at Hisoka. "They're going to be just fine." Hisoka said. He smiled at Gon. "And that's because, they passed." Hisoka said. Idris' eyes widened in surprise. 

'Passed? What does he mean by Leorio and I passed?' Idris thought. Hisoka chuckled. 

"And yes, you pass as well." Hisoka said to Gon, giving him a closed eyed smile. "Now you and your friend go and become good Hunters." Hisoka said. A radio suddenly started beeping. Hisoka picked it up and answered. 

"Hisoka, you should get back here. We've almost reached the site of the second phase." A man over the radio said. Hisoka sighed. 

"Okay. Be right there." Hisoka said before hanging up. He pocketed the radio. "It's good to have friends, isn't it?" Hisoka asked, picking up Leorio and putting him over his shoulder. Hisoka looked back at Gon. "Can you find your own way back?" Hisoka asked. Gon hesitantly nodded. Hisoka smiled. "Good boy." Hisoka said. With that, Hisoka started walking off, with an unconscious Leorio over his shoulder. Hisoka's form disappeared into the fog. Gon sat there, still on his hands and knees. He let out shaking breaths. Idris grunted in pain as she yanked out the card in her shoulder, dropping it to the ground. She rushed over to Gon. 

"Gon! Are you okay?" She knelt next to the boy. Gon kept staring at the spot where Hisoka had been, letting out shaky breaths. Sweat beaded down his cheek. Idris looked at Gon in worry. "Gon?" She asked. 

"Gon! Idris! Are you alright?" Kurapika's voice sounded. Idris and Gon looked back, seeing Kurapika's form com running back from the fog. Kurapika knelt next to Gon, on his other side. Kurapika looked to Idris. His eyes widened, seeing the cut on her shoulder. Her shirt had been ripped, exposing the bleeding gash from the card Hisoka had thrown. "Idris, you're hurt." Kurapika said. Idris looked to her shoulder. 

"I'll be fine. I'm more worried about Gon." She said. Gon looked at her, sitting up on his knees. 

"I'm fine, Idris. I promise." The boy said. Idris looked at him, unconvinced. She sighed, knowing she wouldn't be able to get through to him. She stood up. She brought her arm up, bending her wrist and bringing her fingers together. A stream of water from the ground followed her movements. Clenching her hands into a fist, she made the water surround her hand. Her eyes began to glow white, the crescent moon on her forehead glowed white as well. She brought her hand to her wound. The water glowed, surrounding the wound. When Idris pulled her hand away and her eyes stopped glowing, the wound was healed. The water stopped glowing as well. She threw her hand to the side, sending the water into the grass again. She looked to the boys. 

"We should start heading back. The first phase is about to be done, I'm sure of it." She said. 

The rest of the applicants had reached the site of the second phase, including Killua. Killua looked around for Gon. 

"Aw, man. Where is he? I was sure Gon would be here." Killua said to himself. Killua looked around. He spotted the brothers, and Tonpa. Satoz looked down at his watch, keeping an eye on the trial to the second phase. 

Further within the forest, Gon, Idris and Kurapika were rushing along the path, apparently following Gon's nose. 

"This way!" Gon shouted, leading his two friends. Idris looked at Kurapika. 

"So he can really tell by the way it smells?" She asked him. Kurapika shrugged. Gon answered Idris' question. 

"Leorio's always wearing this very unique kind of cologne. I can smell him from a few kilometers away." Gon explained. Idris hummed. 

"Huh." 

"Hey, I've been thinking," Gon said. "What do you think Hisoka was talking about when he said Leorio, Idris and I passed?" Gon asked. Idris looked down. 

"I was wondering the same thing." She said. 

"I'm not sure, but I think he might have been playing judge." Kurapika said. 

"Judge?" Gon asked. Idris looked at Kurapika. 

"So, just like how those men before, Hisoka was talking about them playing examiner." She said. Kurapika nodded. 

"Yes. However, not quite like that. Hisoka must have his own benchmarks for evaluating a person's power. It's possible that he was measuring the strength of each applicant. Apparently, you, Idris and Leorio met his standards, whatever those happen to be. He might also just be interested in Idris' powers, and knowing that Gon is friends with her, might be a means for him to get closer to Idris for her powers." Kurapika said. Gon hummed. 

"Okay. Right. That makes sense. But I was powerless to do anything to stop him." Gon said. Idris looked at the boy. 

"You landed your first hit on him. That's something, right?" She asked. 

"That's only because I surprised him. You also got a hit on him too, Idris." Gon said. Idris hummed. 

"What I don't understand is, Leorio didn't win his fight, but Hisoka passed him anyway." She said. Kurapika hummed. 

"Hmm. I wonder. He could have sensed that the three of your were sort of kindred spirits." Kurapika said. Gon glanced at him. 

"He sensed it?" Gon asked. 

"It's possible that Hisoka could qualify as a Hunter, but I sincerely doubt it." Kurapika said. "However, I must admit that I'm impressed by his superhuman agility and the gracefulness of his technique." Kurapika said. Idris hummed. 

"There's something my Grandmother always told me before she passed. 'Those who are blessed with unique talents are often drawn to others with unique gifts of their own.' It's likely that, based on Hisoka's intuition and experience, Hisoka could tell that all three of us had the skill and potential to become Hunters." Idris said. Kurapika nodded. 

"Idris is right. So, from Hisoka's perspective, killing all three of you now would have been a waste of time. Especially for Idris and her powers." Kurapika said. Kurapika's eyes widened. "Oh, no. Sorry. That must sound horrible." Kurapika said. Gon shook his head. 

"Mm-mm." 

Idris smiled slightly. 

"It's fine, Kurapika. Before our journey, the Navigator said that I should keep my powers hidden, least someone want to use my powers for evil intent." She chuckled slightly. "I guess I haven't done a very good job of that, huh?" She said. Gon chuckled. 

"I've gotta say, it was actually pretty exciting back there." Gon said. Idris looked down at the boy. 

"Exciting?" She asked. 

"I was so scared that all I wanted to do was run away, but I couldn't. Not only could I not leave Idris behind, it was because I was excited at the same time." Gon said. He looked back at Idris and Kurapika. "Isn't that weird?" Gon said. Idris' eyes widened. She then chuckled. 

"You really are something, Gon." She said, making Gon laugh. The three friends continued to run down the path, getting closer and closer to the second phase. 

Gon and Idris had experienced mortal fear for the first time, and although the unfamiliar feelings that accompany that fear are quite confusing, at least to Gon, Gon cannot help but give in to his growing curiosity. Idris wonders if she will continue to use her powers, or, like the Navigator had advised, keep her powers a secret from the rest of the applicants in the Hunter Exam, especially from Hisoka. At this stage, 220 candidates have withdrawn from the exam, and 148 remain.