#//solemnly but not solemnly nodding my head in agreement

[mechahero]

//glancing at this tweet then at lambda and then back at this tweet again

[earthtooz]

x : NOT JEALOUS ! :*+ﾟ

in which: alhaitham isn't jealous, he doesn't get jealous, so what is this suffocating feeling in his chest that only happens when you're talking to another man that isn't him?

warnings: 5.4k words, jealous!alhaitham x gn!reader who has loads of rizz, university!au, fluff with angst but happy ending, pining!alhaitham who doesn't realise that he loves you, kaveh is there, mention of cyno, ooc at some bits?, swearing, alhaitham is a little bit of an asshole at some parts sawry. he's bad with feelings.

a/n: inspired by @danijaci's jealous jealous boy comic with alhaitham! hi dani if you're reading this pls don't perceive me... hides... but i hope you all like it :,)

Alhaitham isn’t jealous. 

The uncomfortable feeling obstructing itself in his throat is just because he’s beginning to develop a sore throat- that’s all. It is flu season after all, who knows what kind of bacteria are in the air? Ones capable of lathing an uncomfortable oil that burns inside his chest, the smog crowding its way into his heart, sickening him to his core as Alhaitham can’t help but eavesdrop on the conversation happening beside him.

“I’m free friday,” a voice besides you confirms.

“Okay!” you cheer, sounding a little too happy for Alhaitham’s liking. After all, it’s 9 am, who has this much energy in the morning? “lets do Friday then!”

“Sounds good, I’ll see you then. Bye Y/n.”

“Bye, see you!” Alhaitham watches from the corner of his eye as you wave to the random stranger you’ve decided to associate yourself with before finally taking the seat beside him with a sigh. 

He doesn’t say anything to you, feeling your eyes glance at him expectantly as he stares stubbornly at the lecture board instead of acknowledging you or the jumble of feelings clogging up his diaphragm. 

“Hello, you,” You lean over slightly, careful to not invade his personal space whilst waving at him, hoping to catch his attention. He glances at you, nodding in greeting before returning to his book, the pages and rows of words only fuelling his unease he suddenly felt. He doesn’t even know where he left off, the book’s events a blur in Alhaitham’s mind.

How bothersome. What’s happening to him?

“Talkative today, aren’t you?” Your tone is playful despite his cold attitude and Alhaitham sneaks another look in your direction, noting the way your lips curve upwards. “So, how are you?” 

“I’m fine,” he murmurs, inserting a bookmark between the pages before slamming it shut, an indicator that you could keep conversing with him.

“Cool.” You tap your nails on the desks of the lecture hall. “Oh, I finished my essay the other day.”

“The one for your elective?”

You hum in agreement, “I hope I never get it back. Submitted it ten minutes before the due date.”

“You know you wouldn’t have been stressed over it if you just started it earlier-”

“I know, I know,” you huff, “spare your productivity lectures for another time, I’ll be needing them later in the semester.” The grey-haired shakes his head as you laugh, but his gaze returns to the front cover of his book as he solemnly thinks about the interaction you had with another man, right in front of him. 

(What right did he have to see you smiling so earnestly like that?)

“Who was that?” Alhaitham coughs out, barely choking down his pride in time to make space for the question.

You murmur some guy’s name that he doesn’t bother to remember. “He’s a friend of mine in the same discussion group for this course and we decided to do the assignment together. He bumped into me on the way in so we were just planning when to meet to do the research.”

“Oh.” Your answer doesn’t calm the churning in Alhaitham’s gut. Not even one bit, in fact, it makes it worse. 

But it’s not jealousy, Alhaitham doesn’t get jealous because he’s above petty feelings of inadequacy. He’s merely concerned for you, worried for your brainpower by the end of the project because your partner seems less-than-incompetent. If you’d picked someone like Alhaitham (or better yet, just picked Alhaitham), you would’ve aced the class without even blinking an eye. 

(The two of you are friends, so why didn’t you pick him? It’s literally been proven that the two of you are compatible working together since you were both executives of Sumeru’s Cultural Society, and amidst all of the activities the club has run, you’ve collaborated many times to make each event run flawlessly. So why not him? Why would you pick another man over him?)

“You know you could have picked me, I wouldn’t mind working on the assignment with you,” he grumbles, words soft but very clear.

Alhaitham misses the way your eyes widen in shock as apologies scramble out of your mouth. “I’m sorry! I automatically assumed that you wanted to work on it by yourself. Next time I’ll ask you.” 

The lecture begins before he could say anything in return and like a robot, he sets his thoughts aside and begins listening, notes document up and cursor blinking at the ready.

A mundane two hours pass by, one powerpoint slide after powerpoint slide before the lecture is finally over, much to your pleasure. Alhaitham notices the way you eagerly jump out of your seat to stretch, grabbing your bag. On the other hand, your grey-haired accomplice takes his time in packing up, forcing you to wait for him.

“Would you like to get some coffee before the meeting?” You ask.

“Sure, we can find a seat there and join it together,” he adds and you beam at him, expression bright and so enchanting that it makes him forget about all the perplexities he felt before the lecture. 

The two of you make your way to one of the many campus cafés where you practically wrestled Alhaitham to stop him from paying for both your orders (losing in the end) before sitting at a booth, your laptop set up with a pair of Alhaitham’s earphones shared between you. The meeting begins to fill up with almost all committee members, even Kaveh, who resides in his room of his and Alhaitham’s shared flat. Upon noticing him, you go to text him, with the grey-haired peeking over your shoulder from time to time to see your conversation- not that he cares that much.

(Perhaps if Kaveh glanced up from his phone, then he’d see how close Alhaitham had gotten with you, breaching the distance that he prefers to keep around others. He’d also notice the headphone sharing despite how he generally tends to keep them out of anyone else’s hands.)

You’re tasked with the role of taking notes for the meeting since Alhaitham, in your opinion, is not at all a reliable scribe. His notes tend to just include vital information and never what everyone else needs to know, yet each time you scold him for it, his unbothered expression never falters, waving your complaints off with a shrug. 

“Hey, Kaveh and I are going to go for lunch tomorrow after our classes. Care to join?” You ask, smiling at him hopefully as your messages with Kaveh sit open on your screen. Alhaitham doesn’t think twice before agreeing. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“It looks like it’s about to rain,” you murmur, pulling out a chair as Alhaitham and Kaveh take their seats opposite you. 

“So it does,” Alhaitham notes, not caring to look too long out the window before returning his gaze to you. “You have an umbrella, right?”

“I, uh, didn’t think I needed one today.”

“Do you not check the weather before you leave?”

“Not everyone’s like you, Alhaitham.” Kaveh teases. “It’s no problem, Y/n, if it rains I can walk you back to your dorm.”

“Only if you are okay with it,” you insist, “I have no problem walking home in the rain. I love the rain.”

Alhaitham intervenes with a raise of his hand. “Nonsense, you’ll catch a cold. We’ll walk you home.”

A soft but genuine ‘thank you’ slips from your lips, neither of you wiser to the way Kaveh eyes his roommate suspiciously, not missing the use of ‘we’ in his sentence and the implications the collective pronoun has. For it meant that Alhaitham is willing to take precious time out of his day to perform an act for someone that he is not indebted to do. Not that Alhaitham is inherently selfish, per se, but he is a man of routine. He wakes up every morning and takes five minutes to scribble on his stupid whiteboard in the kitchen what he has to do for the day and strictly abides by it, not even straying two minutes off schedule.

Willingly volunteering his minutes? Kaveh finds that suspicious. 

“So, how’s your architecture assignment, Kaveh?” You ask, breaking the blond from his daze whilst Alhaitham pours glasses of water for the table, starting with your cup. 

“A nightmare,” he sighs, sinking into his chair. “I still have so much to do, you know my professor didn’t like my blueprint? How ridiculous! I hope that man steps in a puddle and wets his sock.”

The grey-haired pipes up with a remark. “I can’t wait for it to be done, our living room is a mess right now.” 

“Hey, I am the one that cleans that living room, thank you very much. Your bookshelf is still a mess even though I’ve asked you to clean it five times.”

“If it bothers you so much then why don’t you do it yourself?”

“I’m the only one who-”

“-I’m going to go to the bathroom,” you murmur, cutting the conversation before shuffling out of your chair, seemingly eager to do so.

Kaveh turns to the grey-haired again, “and you just scared away Y/n.”

“Sorry no one wants to hear about your architecture project.”

“Y/n literally asked, asshole.”

A rebuttal sits on the tip of Alhaitham’s tongue- as it always does when it comes to bickering with his roommate, but it dies out when an intruder comes to the table. “Excuse me, I hate to interrupt,” he begins, “but the person who just got up, is that your friend?”

“Yeah, why do you ask?”

“Oh, I just wanted to drop this off, mind passing it over for me?” The piece of paper he was holding lands in Kaveh’s hand. “Thanks, bro.” Is all he says before strolling away, out of sight but definitely not out of mind.

The blond does not hesitate to open it up, chuckling in amusement when reading the content. “’Hey you’re cute, here’s my number’ it says. What a bitch! You didn’t like his vibes either, right, Alhaitham?”

“Hold on, what does the note say?”

Grabbing (snatching) it from Kaveh, the grey-haired has half a mind to rip the note apart, a certain sense of distaste washing over him that intensifies the long he stares at the guy’s handwriting. His eye is twitching. Why is his eye twitching?

“Hey!” He hears Kaveh call. “Don’t scrunch it, that’s Y/n’s-“

Alhaitham stuffs the ball of paper into his bag where he’ll recycle it later even though something irrational within him tells him to burn it. “Y/n won’t miss it. You said it yourself, he’s a bitch.”

“Sure, but why are you doing-“

“Hey!” You interrupt, sliding back into your chair with a grin on your face. “So, what did I miss?”

“Nothing,” the grey-haired murmurs, assuming his crossed-arm position. Kaveh side eyes his roommate before agreeing with a hum. “Let’s order something now. We want to beat the rain, right?”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

This meeting for the Sumeru Society might have been one of the most important ones of the year thus far, with almost every committee member expected to attend. After all, the annual ball was a big event that always had the largest turnout, and the amount of planning that goes into it to ensure its success is almost triple that of its other events.

So why weren’t you here?

“Why did you leave the meeting early on Friday?” Alhaitham asks as soon as he sees you.

You pause briefly, eyes widening and eyebrows raising. It must have been the way that Alhaitham’s voice raised a pitch towards the end of the question, demonstrating a nervous break in character that was not at all typical. Cool and collected would be the defining words to describe Alhaitham, as well as someone who does not care for the menial activities of others, so what is he doing asking you? And why does he care so much?

“I, uh, had dinner with someone,” you confess, continuing to grab your books and laptop, missing the way his features contort into something un-cool, and very un-Alhaitham.

“Whom?”

You murmur the name of some other guy, who he vaguely recalls to be your project partner.

“What?” Alhaitham snaps.

“I didn’t think missing out on some of the meeting would be a big deal! I got another committee member to explain what I missed,” you justified. “Besides, there’s no big events going on right now, so I thought-”

“-That you could abandon your tasks and go have fun with someone else?”

Alhaitham’s not really sure why he said that. He’s not angry that you skipped a meeting; there are larger things in the world to worry about, he’s angry because you spent time with another guy that wasn’t him.Why not go to dinner with him instead? He spends it every night with Kaveh, and you are far more favourable than Kaveh.  

“Is it really something to get mad over? I already told you, I got the meeting notes and everything-”

“-You’re an executive of the society, Y/n, more is expected from you.”

“Seriously?” you ask, “how come you didn’t bat an eye when the vice president wasn’t there the other day?”

“Because she was sick.” 

“Okay, fine! what about the subcommittee? they’re not always there either!” 

“They’re subcom. Whether they miss a meeting or not is not crucial.”

“So, it’s just my business that you care about?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed, disbelief clouding over your expression like a mask.

Again, Alhaitham doesn’t know where these punches are coming from and why he’s throwing them against you so viciously, but his heart is tightening defensively with a burning emotion that he’s been feeling more and more recently, and his first instinct is to lash out, to protect himself from it.

Perhaps it’s because foreign things that he can’t understand terrify him and you, all you ever do is make him feel things that he’s never felt before and he can’t understand why. 

“You’re not that special.”

A flash of hurt gleams in your eyes and Alhaitham knows now that he’s royally fucked up. “You’re an ass,” you grumble, about to walk away when he intercepts.

“Listen to me!”

“Fuck off!” 

“Y/n-”

You’re gone before he can get another word out, retreating figure stomping away whilst his chest weaves into knots; something that no amount of deep breathing can calm. It doesn’t help that the minute he returns home, Kaveh is onto him like some sort of parasite, curious over the tense air surrounding his normally-composed roommate. 

“Hey, welcome home- whoa, what’s gotten into you?” The blond asks.

“None of your business,” Alhaitham grumbles through gritted teeth, taking his shoes off and throwing them aside haphazardly. Kaveh doesn’t miss the way Alhaitham’s jaw is clenched, or the strain in his hand when he brings up a hand to run through his hair, or the very subtle and minute twitch in his cheek.

The blond ignores all signs that he wants to be left alone, and instead, follows the grey-haired to his room after he swung the door open. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on, let’s talk about this-”

“Talk about what?” Alhaitham growls.

“Who pissed in your black coffee today?” 

“No one. Now get lost.” 

“Aw, come on, you know what they say. Getting things off your chest is always beneficial.”

“There’s nothing on my chest, go away.”

“You sure? no stress, no deadlines, no love interest making you tear your hair out-”

“-No, no, none of those!”

“Then what?”

Alhaitham steadies himself by resting his elbows on his thighs, hands clasped together as he exhales loudly. “I got pissed and took it out on Y/n, who’s mad at me now.”

“Huh? Why so annoyed?”

“Because Y/n went to dinner with another man.”

It’s silent for a while. The sassy quip that he expects from Kaveh does not happen. Instead, the blond merely smiles, a satisfied, knowing grin that slightly irks him. “You know, I’ve been waiting for the day you realise you have feelings for Y/n.” 

“What? Where did you get that conclusion from?” Alhaitham sits up straighter. There are a lot of things he knows, and he knows for sure that he does not like you in any way beyond platonic. He doesn’t have any time to spare for love. There are scholarships he still needs to apply for, internships to be interviewed for, research projects to submit- nowhere amongst the minute hand of the clock is there space for love. 

“Oh come on,” Kaveh sits down on the bed beside his roommate, leaning back on his hands. “You’re not as smooth as you hope to be sometimes.”

“I’m serious, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Y’know the sooner you accept you have feelings for Y/n, the easier life will be.”

“Life is already easy and there is no sooner because I don’t like Y/n like that. Now get lost. I have stuff I need to finish.”

Kaveh shrugs, standing up with a soft ‘suit yourself’, taking seven steps before he’s out of the room. Alhaitham lets out a sigh that has lodged itself in his throat for too long, and the feeling of reprieve he gets is short-lived before he’s flooded with a certain tightness again. Maybe he did have a weight on his chest after all, not that he’d ever admit it to himself or Kaveh.

He gets up from his made bed with a grunt and decides to push aside all distractions. Time is unforgiving, and if doesn’t finish his assignment by this Friday then he’ll be a little less than pleased.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Alhaitham feels like he can’t breathe. 

You’re sitting alone at a library desk, all focused and concentrated on your laptop screen with your headphones on, blocking out any outside voice as you type away. He wonders if he should say hi, maybe try apologising for the way he acted last Monday- who is this guy that’s approaching you and why does he look so familiar? 

And why are you smiling so happily?

You beckon to the seat beside you and the guy readily complies, taking the chair beside you like he belonged there, like there weren’t other candidates that should be there instead (he’s not talking about himself. definitely not).

He hands you one of two coffee cups he’s holding. What kind of right does this guy have to give you a coffee? Does he even know your order?

He feels like a bit of creep keenly watching you interact with someone else from a balcony of the library, but the book and laptop in front of him lies forgotten, and in a rare moment of weakness, Alhaitham can’t find it in himself to return to his tasks, pursuit of knowledge momentarily forgotten. He can’t push aside the bile that threatens to rise, he can’t loosen his grip on the couch’s armrest, and he can’t blink for a second in fear of losing you from his sight.

(You’re laughing. Why are you laughing? How can you look so pretty laughing and why doesn’t he ever get to make you laugh like this?)

Alhaitham is losing his damn mind. So much so that the first thing he does when he sees you again is corner you. 

“You shouldn’t talk to that guy anymore.”

You’re backed against the brick walls of the time-worn building that your shared lecture always takes place in, and Alhaitham, spotting you like a hawk, put you in this precarious position as soon as the two hours were over. 

He can’t breathe. It’s been almost three weeks since you last spoke to him and you’re staring up at him like you’ve done nothing wrong, blinking once and twice at his uncharacteristic display of subtle aggression. 

“Who?” you mutter, shaking your head to try and grasp reality once again. you hug your laptop closer to your body. “What’s this about?”

“I said you shouldn’t talk to that guy anymore.” 

“What guy?” 

“Your project partner.”

“Really?” you mutter in disbelief.

He nods, teal eyes shining at you firmly. “Really. The project’s over, you don’t need to talk to him anymore.” 

“I don’t recall ever giving you the right to dictate who gets to be in my life or not, just like how you can’t tell me what to do with my time.” 

“I’m looking out for you, so stop trying to make me sound tyrannical.” 

Your mouth hangs open as you furrow your eyebrows, growing more and more frustrated with each second. So much for thinking that he wanted to resolve the awkwardness between the two of you. “I’m not even going to argue with you,” you murmur a quick ‘jerk’ under your breath before brushing past him. 

Alhaitham, however, is not willing to let you go as easily as you wish, quick to chase after you. Not that you go far anyways, turning around to face him again in the spaciousness of the vacant hallway. “Why do you care?” You ask, exasperated. “You’re Alhaitham, you don’t let trivial things like who I hangout with bother you, you’re cool and collected and rational, and I just don’t understand why you’re acting like this.”

He doesn’t understand either, not the erratic beating of his heart, the stubbornness of his mind, nor this undisputable urge to keep you all to himself. Is it normal to want to hide someone for selfish reasons?

Trailing off, Alhaitham is slightly humiliated that for the first time in his life, someone has witnessed him coming short of an answer. No logical conclusion, no explanation, not even a satisfying quip, just plain, suffocating silence.

“Right. When you do have an answer, let me know.” You walk away.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Your last rebuttal still weighs heavily on Alhaitham’s mind, even two days later as he and Kaveh are seated for a lecture in a shared course. His thoughts are scrambled like never before, the messiness of it all making him feel uneasy because for once, he doesn’t have an appropriate answer to a question.

Why was he acting like a temperamental teenager? What you did with your life was up to you, and indeed he has no right trying to change that. More importantly, why was it so hard to apologise for the stuff he said-

“So, how’s everything between you and Y/n?” 

Kaveh turns to him with widened eyes whilst Alhaitham’s poker face doesn’t move an inch, deceivingly apathetic.

“Good, we’ve been hanging out a lot more recently,” the other guy says, who Alhaitham quickly recognises to be your project partner and distaste rises in his stomach like bile. 

“Aye, good for you, man! So when are you going to ask Y/n out?”

“No way, bro, not yet. I’m such a wimp, but I hope I grow the balls to ask soon because I really like-”

“-looks like you got some competition!” The blond nudges Alhaitham, and if it were anyone else, they would not have glanced twice at the grey-haired who seemed unmoving and uninterested. However, Kaveh is not anyone else because he noticed the darkened look in Alhaitham’s eyes instantly, anger seeping into his composed gaze as his nose scrunches in disgust. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“So, you and Alhaitham still aren’t talking?” Kaveh asks, leaning on the table of the restaurant with curious ears, hoping that he can grab some answers out of you as to why there was a stalemate between you and his roommate.

“Nope,” you sigh. 

“Why not?”

“I’m just-” you pinch the bridge of your nose, “I’m just waiting on an apology from him.”

“An apology? Why? What did he say?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“You know how he is. Always insufferably secretive, so no, I don’t know anything that happened.” 

“Alhaitham just said some hurtful things to me, and he was being weird when I told him I was going to dinner with a friend of mine. Just kept being in my business.”

“Really?” The architecture student quirks a brow, confusion plastered on his face. “That’s not like Alhaitham at all.”

“I know, right? He kept trying to be like ‘don’t hang out with him’ and ridiculed me for not playing my part as an executive of the Sumeru society,” you complained, “like sorry I have other things I want to do.”

Kaveh nods in understanding as the conversation briefly stops when the waiter comes to drop off utensils at your table. As soon as they were gone, however, you begin again.

“And even though he was all up in my business, trying to tell me what not to do, he then said that I wasn’t special, which is so confusing because like-”

“-hold on. Alhaitham said that you weren’t special?” You nod at his parroted claim. “To him?” 

“Yeah. Stung like shit when he said that, especially since I thought we were friends but guess not,” you murmur sadly, fiddling with the fork.

Later that night, almost immediately after meeting you over dinner, Kaveh barges into his roommate’s room, not even changing out of his outside clothes. The sudden intrusion shocks Alhaitham who was busy typing on a document, textbook splayed open beneath him but momentarily forgotten as the blond takes a seat on the bed.

“What the- not even a hello?” The grey-haired asks, confused by this uncharacteristic silence of Kaveh’s. It’s pretty normal for the blond to barge into his room without notice, but it was not normal for him to be so quiet, practically brooding on the mattress. “Whatever. Where have you been? Have you eaten yet, because I made-”

“When will you just confess to Y/n?”

The mention of your name causes a spike in Alhaitham’s heartbeat and he swivels around instantly, attention fully directed towards his roommate. “Where is this coming from?”

“Y/n told me everything that happened between you two by the way-”

“-what, when?”

“Tonight, we just met for dinner.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“What would you have done if you knew? Showed up and made things worse?” He doesn’t say anything in retaliation, merely shutting his mouth and furrowing his eyebrows. “Why did you say that Y/n wasn’t special to you?” 

“I didn’t,” Alhaitham sighs, very loud and very perplexed. “I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did.”

“Don’t you miss Y/n? You two used to hangout so often.”

“I do, of course I do!” He exclaims, burrowing his face in his hands. 

“So why aren’t you apologising?” 

“Because whenever I’m around Y/n, I’m not who I normally am,” he mutters, “especially everything whenever that project partner is around-”

“Jealous, much?”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Oh come on, you’re ridiculous. Stop pushing away your feelings and just be honest with yourself, Alhaitham! Y/n is not just a friend to you and you know it.”

“But, we are just friends-”

“So you mean to tell me that if I hung out with someone else- like if I hung out with Cyno, you would be pissed?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“Then why is it different with Y/n?” Once again, Alhaitham doesn’t have an answer to the question, sitting as still as a statue hunched over his desk. “Fine, I’ll spell it out to you. You like Y/n, more than just a friend!”

The silence leftover from Kaveh’s outburst is tense and full as the grey-haired lets the words sink in. 

“I’ll let you think about it,” the blond murmurs, voice softening dramatically as he stalks out of the room. Before he closes the door, however, he leaves a few final words. “Just- be honest with yourself, Alhaitham, and I wouldn’t delay trying to talk to Y/n.”

A sharp click rings through the room.

Alhaitham is no stranger to being alone, for who needs the company of others when you are happiest by yourself? Yet, in the weeks that you have not been speaking to him, a cardinal urge as been growing each and each day, wanting him to do something so atypical of him: to reach out and make the first move. Every passing day doesn’t lessen the thoughts that plague his mind, rather, they make him more and more impatient, because what if you get swept away by your project partner? 

(What if he’ll be too late? What if you won’t know of these powerful emotions that are steering through the storm in his heart? What if you won’t know just how badly he was been wanting you- wanting to see you, wanting to apologise, wanting to see you beam at him like you always would.

What if you won’t know that he adores you, especially now that he’s figured it out?).

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

A rain droplet falls and lands on your nose, another lands on your forehead, then another lands on your lip then more and more keep falling from the cloudy sky, falling through the leaves and landing on the bench you were currently sitting on. Goodness, you should have checked the weather before leaving your dorm. Why was it now out of all times that it had to rain, what would Alhaitham think after he finally decided to reach out to talk?

Taking your phone out to message the grey-haired about relocating, an umbrella is suddenly held over you, stopping the gentle drizzle from falling onto you. Looking up, you’re greeted by a familiar face that you have been missing too much recently.

“Hello, you,” you breathe, voice gentle and quiet and Alhaitham feels like he can finally breathe after so long, the scent of rain washing away all perplexion.

He nods at you in greeting before offering you the bouquet of flowers he was holding. A gorgeous arrangement of pink of white stare prettily at you and a man even more gorgeous expects you to accept it.

“For me?” You ask.

“For you.”

“Thank you, they’re so beautiful,” you take his gift with gentle hands, holding it close to your chest. 

“I want to apologise,” he firmly states, getting straight to the point; very Alhaitham of him. “For treating you the way I have been recently.”

You beam at him, so bright and so gorgeous that it renders him speechless, a feat pretty difficult when it comes to someone like Alhaitham who has a whole dictionary of words, in multiple languages too. Somehow, they all flock out of his mind the second you smile at him.  

“I accept your apology, thank you for reaching out, must have been hard for someone like you, huh?” You tease, standing up from the bench.

“Well, I had do for someone as special as you.” The grey-haired’s voice is deceivingly confident and assured, but you know better, especially when he looks away to hide his expression with his neatly styled bangs. 

“No need for the flattery, you know, I’ve already forgiven you.” There’s a moment of silence that occupies the air, caused by Alhaitham’s hesitation as he fishes his brain for the courage to ask you out. You speak before he can get a word out, however. “I got asked out the other day.”

“By your groupmate?”

“He has a name, you know, but, yeah. I rejected him, though,” you laugh awkwardly, almost like you were trying to cope with it by playing it off. “Did you know that he would do that?” 

“Yes. I did.”

“Is that why you were so adamant on me not hanging out with him?”

“I guess you could say that. We can talk more about it another time,” he tells you, voice gentle and caring to mask the subtle hit of jealousy he feels in his chest, scolding himself for letting someone else confess to you before him. However, it’s a minute sensation in comparison to the triumph Alhaitham feels knowing that you rejected the other party. 

“We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

“We do, but I want to ask you something first.” 

You nod, hugging the bouquet closer to your chest, anticipation heavy in the air as you spur him to continue. 

“If I asked you out, would you reject me too?”

A mere second passes by where you don’t respond, yet the second stretches out to what feels like eternity as Alhaitham’s stomach churns. Patience is something he doesn’t lack, but how can he be patient when his heart wants you so bad? 

Then, you take his hand, and the heavens sing at the feeling of your hand in his. “I wouldn’t, but are you asking me out?”

“Are you free right now?”

“I am. Why?”

“Let’s go out then. On a date.”

“I'd love to.” You rise up to place a lingering kiss on his cheek, one that has his heart racing with joy rather than frustration.

The smile you earn is gentle, shy, but says more than Alhaitham's words ever can.

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[monicahar]

“my wife.”

how they address you. why does it make your heart skip a beat each time?

characters; neuvillette, wriothesley

—female pronouns obvi, aaaa this is so random😭 fluff, tad bit of crack, has suggestive themes/dirty jokes cause that's my humor in general, just tryna get into writing again heehaa don't mind me ʘ⁠‿⁠ʘ

NEUVILETTE always accompanies the term with unmatched affection. it rolls off his tongue perfectly like a match made in heaven, coupled with the serene image of you instantaneously appearing in his mind before he even thinks of the uttering the endearing term. he still finds it surreal that you are both even lawfully married, yet the way he calls you his wife is already on instinct. is it too presumptuous of him?

well, in the end, he can't find any means to worry about it when you seem to equally adore the nickname.

“ooohh, say it again, say it again!”

he can't tell whether he married a child or not, but he still obliges your request and calls you his wife affectionately once more.

meanwhile, furina nearly gags everytime she hears him say it so softly—like using any other tone when referring to you would land him in the hands of the fortress of meropide. sure—she might've been the one who set up both of you—but the drama and thrill akin to watching a romance film has delightfully ended, and she can only meddle so much in marital matters. the iudex just might actually have her head in a platter if she were to do anything mischievous at that point.

but while a happy neuvillette is running around announcing 'my wife' this and 'my wife' that, you are currently stuck on what to call him in return, sadly enough.

“at this point, i think i'm just going to call you daddy.”

it was unfortunate with the way he choked on some of the water he was drinking—well, thank goodness he didn't spill much as before. for this wasn't the first time you said something unprompted while he was in peace with his water—he can only internally sigh.

“and what exactly has influenced you to arrive at such a conclusion, my wife?” he does not miss the tiny shudder of your body that followed the endearment. your face burns a tad bit at that, and he softly chuckles.

“your effect on me is no joke, you know?” you pout at his amused smile, “the way you refer to me so sweetly makes me want to call you my dearest husband everytime.”

“i don't recall voicing any complaints. is something else holding you back from doing so?”

you nod solemnly in agreement at that, which prompts him to raise a brow in mild curiousity.

“thing is, i really like calling you by your first name. same with monsieur neuvilette. there's something mildly erotic within it—you get what i mean, hehehe...” he only stares at you, clearly unimpressed, and a bit concerned at the implication. you clear your throat, apologizing under your breath.

“still—it's such a devastating predicament to be unable to choose between the three.” you sigh defeatedly, moving to slump your entire weight on his lap. you mutter, “my dearest husband monsieur neuvillette...mmm, no, that's too long.”

chuckling at your dramatic antics, he plants a soothing hand on your waist, the other fixing your wrinkled clothing as you practically melt against his hold. “and you thought settling on daddy was the appropriate option?”

“i'm not hearing any objections.” you jest, feeling cheeky.

“please refrain from calling me such a thing in the eyes of the public atleast.”

“...huh? you're actually allowing it??”

WRIOTHESLEY on the other hand, says it as if he's flaunting. it leaves his lips like a taunt each time, indirectly telling the other party 'i have a hot wife and you dont' even though most of the time the people he mentions you to don't even know what you actually look like. it's silly, childish even, but you still love it nonetheless.

sigewinne and the other inmates have collectively told you that ever since you got married, he has never uttered your actual name to anyone else. some find it weird, some find it somehow disrespectful, and some are now convinced he's crazily obsessed with you, and now he's showing it off every chance he gets, much to everyone's dismay.

it's arrived to the point where a small percentage of people have actually forgotten about your name, and now refer to you as the duke's wife, or even duchess, to which you made a face at. that's kind of pushing it by then.

anywho, in the end, it's funny and endearing, maybe even makes you a bit giddy, but there is no way you're telling him that. the situation might escalate even more if possible.

“you know, my wife is very mean to me today.”

as a pair of strong yet gentle arms wrap around your waist, you resist the growing smile on your face, deciding to mess with your husband for a bit.

“is that so?” you continue your chores without a care in the world. he huffs.

“mhm. she won't look me in the eye the whole day, even though she seemed sooo happy last night.” face instantly burning, you hiss as you slap his arm in a fit of embarrassment, pulling a hearty chuckle from the man behind you.

“—and now she's hitting me as well. i can't believe this.” you both know very well he was not fazed in the slightest bit.

“if her husband wasn't such a pervert then maybe—”

his facade cracks as he forces out an awkward laugh, “hey now, baby, you know i'm nothing like that.”

“wriothesley.”

he clears his throat awkwardly, “okay, maybe a little. it's exclusive for you though! my wife doesn't have to be so mean about it, you're making me reallyyy sad here, y'know?”

there it is again, you think. that nickname. that damned word that makes you want to turn around and smash your lips against his and—wait, hold yourself together! don't forget the reason you're being cold to him!

“you deserve to feel remorse. i've been struggling to even move the whole day because of you.”

you go rigid.

you didn't mean for that to come out so bitter...oh no.

“oh. so that's what this is about.” you don't even have to turn around to know that there's a smug look on his stupidly handsome face, his grip on your waist turning into soothing circles as he presses a kiss to your neck.

“if my wife wanted a massage, she could've just said so.” it's husky when it leaves his mouth, leaving you to shiver with the chills he enunciates.

flustered, you completely disregard the way your knees buckle at the endearment laced with that low voice of his, hitting his arm once more, earning a tiny 'ouch' from him.

“pervert. i want rest, not another round!”

“heh, i didn't say anything about another round, my perverted wife.”

“you—” you are abrupt cut off as you yelp in surprise when your feet are raised off the ground, your face now much closer to your husband's as he carries you gently in his arms.

“shhh, just let me take you to bed. if my wife was feeling terrible the whole day, she should've just told me in the first place so she could stay in, don't you think?”

he's right, but you're still angry. “shut up.”

“just letting you know i'm not completely at fault, wife.” you attempt to ignore the furious beating of your heart, face burning at his smug expression. “i'm not the only one who wanted it.”

hsr version...? if i feel like it...🤔🤔

[cheralith]

wish you well — 「 celebrity!gojo x manager!reader (drabble & headcanons 」

synopsis ; after being one of the nation's most well-loved celebrity's manager for nine years, it's time to call it quits. said celebrity, however, doesn't take it too well.

content tags/warnings ; gn!reader, no pronouns for reader used, mild angst, some parts not edited/not beta read

contains ; celebrity!au, a-list actor!gojo satoru, manager!reader, no powers au

notes ; plot inspired by "what's wrong with secretary kim" after my nth rewatch haha

now playing ; i wish you love - nancy wilson

Everyone goes to lean forward in their seats, gripping the edge of it as the music that’s singing from the movie theatre’s speakers suddenly stops, letting the sound effects of rain pebble through instead. The screen displays a running, drenched man in the rain of a lonesome road in the middle of the countryside, his crystal blue eyes hazy with a brim of tears balancing in them as he huffs and puffs, the exhaustion within him visible. The camera cuts to a woman seated safely under a bus stop as the rain pours down with the same view of a descending countryside town still blurred in the distance. She grips the handle of her suitcase as her head goes to gaze solemnly at her shoes. 

A bus goes to a screeching halt, only the tender wheel of it visible as the woman’s gaze is still stuck on the floor before she looks up to see the bus doors opening before her. The running man appears before the screen, desperation clear on his face before the camera slowly turns towards the bus stop the formerly-sitting woman is now standing under. 

“Loretta! Don’t you dare get on that bus!”  the man yells out, earning the woman’s attention.

The woman widens her pale green eyes at the sight of him breaking out into a sprint. She swallows a nervous gulp, too frozen to move from her spot until the man enters under the shelter of the bus stop. His chest engraved with the lining of visible muscles are evident through his pale blue button-down that’s slicked with water and the sight earns a couple of lip bites from women in the theatre. 

The woman stammers, “Y-you know I need to do this…”

“No you don’t,” the man mutters, the camera panning to show his eyes holding desperation and a slight flicker of anger. “Your father wants you to do this, but I know you. I know you don’t want to.”

“But it’s my duty, Vincent—”

“Don’t give me that ‘duty’ shit!” The man shakes his head, letting droplets of water fling all over. “Loretta, please… just stay here with me,” he pleads, holding her face in his hands and forcing the woman to look up at him as his thumbs wipe away her tears that grab onto mascara. “We can stay here… get a house together… build a family… die old together like you said we would. You’re not gonna break your promise, are you?”

“Vincent, that was when we were six!” the woman exclaims sadly, “Don’t tell me you’re still hanging onto that.”

“I’m not hanging onto that promise,” he whispers, pulling her face closer to his. 

The instrumental of a music track begins to play softly in the background, obvious tension rising to the surface in the theatre as the scene continues. A couple of hands shovel into large popcorn buckets and without thinking, shove the popcorn into their salivating mouths. Nails dig into the palms of hands as some chew on them out of anticipation. Eyes wide and unblinking, they give their full attention to the screen.

“Say the line…” whispers one person.

The man tenderly kisses her in a short, but passionate kiss, letting her release from him with a dreamy sigh. 

“I’m holding on to you,” he murmurs ever so softly. 

Compared to the quietness of the man on the screen, the theatre goes absolutely crazy. Shouts and cheers ring through the air as numerous rounds of applause go to harmonize with them. 

The scene in the movie finalizes with Loretta finally swallowing her pride and nodding to Vincent’s agreement, sealing the movie with a kiss that lasts until the screen slowly fades to black. 

“Annnd… that’s a wrap,” the director of the movie jokes as he stands up from his seat. He earns a few laughs from the cast and the crew of the movie. The theatre begins to light up once more and gives a clear view of everyone, including the section that holds the main cast up near the back. “I’d like to give one last thank you to Satoru Gojo and Yuki Tsukumo one last time for giving an amazing performance and dedicating their time for the past year and a half. Thank you both ever so dearly.”

Satoru Gojo, also known as Vincent, goes to stand up with his co-star, also known as Loretta, and they give a synchronized bow to the people in the theatre as the premier for his latest movie finally draws the curtains from behind the audience. “Thank you for directing another outstanding movie. I truly do look forward to working with you again in the future,” he gives another dazzling smile as he and Yuki elegantly walk down the stairs together. They say their final goodbyes as co-stars and depart to opposite sides of the theatre where they’re greeted with their teams. 

You go to hand him his coat you’ve been hanging on to for the past ninety minutes, the scent of cologne finally fading after a suffocating hour and a half. Glancing at the director who heartily laughs with some of the editors of the movie, you let out a light chuckle. 

“Hm? What’s so funny?” Satoru inquires as he shoves on his coat. 

“You’re such a liar,” you say, shrugging as you and him exit the movie’s premiere together, some of the actor’s team following shortly after, conversing with another about how spectacular the movie was. “You’d rather throw yourself off a cliff than work with that guy again.”

Without looking at you, Satoru grins ahead. “You know me so well.”

Ijichi, the chauffeur, is waiting patiently outside the venue despite the winter cold. When he sights the many delighted smiles and laughter, he asks, “I take it the premiere went well?” 

“Very,” you nod, getting into the car to enjoy its warmth.

The car ride is nothing out of the usual, just quiet jazz playing in the background and the city lights glimmer from above. 

“Oh, what’s the agenda for tomorrow by the way?” Satoru asks, his gaze turning from the window to you, who still is focused on the tablet that checks off today’s draining tasks for the celebrity. 

Photoshoot for Ray Ban… done. Look over next month’s plans for Season Two of Jujutsu Kaisen… done. Suit fitting for movie premiere… done. Movie premiere… done!

“(Y/N)~” Satoru calls again but dragging the last syllable of your name and snapping his fingers in front of you to capture your attention. He chuckles when you jolt in your seat. 

“Sorry,” you mutter before swiping to tomorrow’s agenda. “Alright, nothing too big. You just gotta sign that contract that you’ll be the spokesperson for Chaumet, then right after, you have an Elle interview regarding the movie. Then, you’ll have a final dinner with the entire cast and that’s it for the week.”

Satoru nods in approval and obviously ready to take on tomorrow’s attacks. Only three things? He can handle that with ease. If anything, it’s been less of a load to bring on from the recent events that had been happening as of lately. His feet could really use a break from walking over so many red carpets. 

The road begins to lead down a familiar path as you realize you pass the local family diner, your apartment’s entrance shortly coming to view. Ijichi slows to a stop and unlocks the door, letting you out. Before Satoru can say goodbye to his beloved manager, however, you stop the window from rolling up and lean down into the car again. 

“Oh, I forgot to say this earlier, but,” you pause, making sure his attention is all on you for this short, but possibly life-alternating moment. “You’re also meeting your new manager tomorrow, too. She’s really sweet and—”

Time freezes for a moment.

“Wait a minute,” Satoru furrows his brows and faces his body completely towards you, his countenance pulling the curtains to reveal a confused, serious expression that rarely appears on his face. “New manager…? What do you mean?”

The question comes out more as a demand. Breath hitching for a short moment, you release it and smile gently with the corners not letting your eyes curve. You had been anticipating this moment for the longest time now—around half a year of decision making and weighing the pros and cons, then three months deciding when the right time to break the news would be. But at this time, you’ve ran out of time and you’ve ultimately decided to push it towards the day before the deadline, something you almost never do. A little solemnly, you sigh out softly and finally declare the groundbreaking news to the A-list celebrity, your head still high.

“I’ll be quitting as your manager, soon.”

Actor!Gojo, who doesn't get a good night sleep after that abrupt statement, in which you barely gave him time to try and ask why on earth you're giving up the job that many people would kill for, only leaving him with a small wave and a subtle "goodnight." Your voice replayed in his head the entire night, the sentence resembling nails on a chalkboard the more he repeated it to himself—"I'll be quitting as your manager, soon."

Actor!Gojo, who thinks you have the nerve to put on a smile and greet him good morning the following sunrise as if nothing happened, as if you weren't breaking a bond of nearly nine years with him. Your words for today’s plans go in and out of his ears as Satoru wearily examines your appearance and movements in the kitchen that he almost never uses as he rounds up his thoughts that poisoned his head ever since you said that all-too-bold statement last night that shifted his entire world in the matter of seconds.

Actor!Gojo, who cuts you off mid-sentence, asking you sharply why you're quitting as his manager out of the blue, his usually-playful baby blue hues piercing right into you. He notices your smile faltering a bit, but never completely dissipating, though it comes severely close to doing so when you tell him why.

Actor!Gojo, who listens much too intently for his liking when he hears you out, a feat he rarely does. "The past nine years have been wonderful, don't get me wrong," you murmur as you slather on a sugary marmalade on his toast. "But I don't think I'm really getting much out of life just being someone's manager."

Actor!Gojo, who pretends as if those last two words don't sting his chest. Someone's manager... as if he's not one of the most worshipped and celebrated A-list actors in the industry right now. But he supposes that's why he stuck by you, since you understood that he, too, was just a regular human being at the end of the day like the rest of humanity, even with his godlike good looks.

Actor!Gojo, whose mouth runs dry when you continue. "I don't want to be the side character to someone's story. I deserve to live fully too." you finish, pushing Gojo's plate of breakfast towards him before snacking on the leftovers. You stare at him, awaiting his response. You understand that despite you thinking over such a big decision for a few months, that it was better to rip off the bandaid and avoid any further complications by quitting unexpectedly, even though you knew Gojo better than anyone.

Actor!Gojo, who attempts to understand where you're coming from. Yes, he can get that maybe this life wasn't the most exciting, but then again, what other jobs out there are? At least with this one, you're guaranteed good—dare he say, great—pay and stability, along with experiencing second-hand what it's like to see all the glitz and glamour most of the population fiend for. It's thanks to him that you've been draped in designer clothes for premiers, that you've tried Michelin delicacies, that you've travelled the world. So... why ditch all of that for a more simple life? Aren't you content?

Actor!Gojo, whose mind flashes back to the moment where you stared a little too longingly at a lovesick couple in the window of a coffee shop, or when your eyes lingered on the engagement rings in a shop window that one day he had to get a suit tailored. He suddenly remembers the one dress rehearsal where he witnessed an extra asking for your number before you declined politely. He had asked you jokingly that you were blind to reject such a handsome guy (second to him, of course), only for you to reply you smiled gently at him and said you had no time to date.

Actor!Gojo, who suddenly blurts out without any restraint, and with a little more edge than expected, "What? D'you want to get married or something?"

Actor!Gojo, who regrets the sentence as soon as it escapes his lips. He swallows thickly and attempts to organize the right words for a proper apology. You stare blankly at him for a moment, and before Gojo can say anything, you nod. "Yeah. It's been a dream of mine to, actually..."

Actor!Gojo, who thinks his coffee tastes much bitter than usual, silently nods after a moment of awkward silence. You open your mouth first to try and cut it through, but he beats you to it. "I'm sure I could re-arrange some stuff in the schedule so you can get out there and meet someone. There's no need to quit." He ignores the weird pang in his chest the moment he says "someone."

Actor!Gojo, who frowns when you shake your head. You explain it would still be hard, as he'd remain your first priority despite it all. You mention that you've already submitted your resignation letter to his agency three weeks ago and that it's been processed, that it'll be your last two weeks as you being his manager and that you'll be saying goodbye to what had been nearly a decade of companionship with the celebrity.

Actor!Gojo, who flinches as the doorbell rings and watches miserably as you fetch the person at the door. She's a young girl, around the age when you first started as his manager, with choppy bangs and long blue hair, along with a bright and ready smile. You introduce her as his to-be manager, but Gojo can't shake off the thought of being greeted by her face in the morning and seeing her face as the last thing he sees before he goes to sleep instead of yours.

Actor!Gojo, who thinks this week is going much too fast for his liking. Despite essentially begging for the director of his latest TV show to give him some extra scenes to shoot, he was excused early with the rest of the crew after all the required scenes were shot nicely. Somehow, the brand deal commercial and meeting flew by much faster than usual, too. But despite it all, Gojo couldn't help his eyes constantly flickering to your figure whenever you were in his field of vision, even receiving multiple warnings from the director from the commercial to stop getting distracted.

Actor!Gojo, who finds his gaze lingering on a rather old picture of you and him, along with some blurry figures in the background. Nine years younger, both of you, with outdated fashion and makeup. He remembers you were just shy of being his manager for four months, when he was still trying to break out of the shell of being a nepotism baby and attempting to create a name for himself. Gojo prided himself on his independence, but he'd be fooling himself if he didn't give a hefty amount of credit of his success to you. After all, you were the one that was in charge of his many brand deals and were the one that landed him roles that granted him film awards.

Actor!Gojo, who can't find the right words to say during the drives home, hating how the air is always thick whenever you were alone with him. He doesn't think he can get used to not pulling up to your apartment when the night comes to an end before going to his, despite your affirmations that him and Miwa would get along great. He murmurs a good night to you, not facing you despite watching your reflection intently in the window, but before you wish him a good evening, you say something that forces him to face you.

"I have... a dinner reservation with someone at 6:30 p.m., so I'll be leaving early tomorrow."

Gojo blinks. "Is that implying you have a date?"

"I..." you swallow anticipatingly. "I suppose you could say that."

Actor!Gojo, who feels the familiar pang of his chest as the thought of someone else sharing a dinner with you, something you've been doing with him since the very beginning of his career. He can't even imagine a person, only some sort of foggy figure sitting across from you, sharing a shabby meal. He can tell you're waiting a response from him before you head into your apartment, and he wryly says, "That's great... Hope you have a good time or whatever..." before commanding the driver to drive off, not even waiting for another word from you.

Actor!Gojo, who drums his fingers with great boredom against the door's handle, fighting off the nuisance that was the city's insane traffic this evening. When he gazes out the window to find some other distraction other than his phone, however, he instantly finds himself drawn to a familiar figure being seated at the window a few stories up in the restaurant his car was stuck in front of. You're up there, dressed regally for another, giggling with them at something they said (something stupid, Gojo thinks to himself). Teeth grit against themselves when they feed you a small portion of their food with their fork, the indirect kiss making his eyes narrow.

Actor!Gojo, whose spontaneous anger suddenly dispels when he repeats your words from earlier that week.

"What? D'you want to get married or something?"

"Yeah. It's been a dream of mine to, actually..."

Gojo suddenly pauses and goes still for a while, thinking over something incredulous. He blinks repeatedly, before a grin etches on his face as his plan settles into his consciousness. Gojo may not give you anything you desire if you're just his mere manager...

... but if he were your husband, then that meant your dream would be fulfilled and you could stay at his side for what was essentially the rest of his life and give you anything you wanted. He'd never have to fret about you leaving his life ever again.

Satoru Gojo, you absolute Einstein... he compliments himself proudly in his mind. Letting out a confident huff as the car begins to drive on, he tells the driver to head on over to the nearest jewelry store before heading home.

a/n: hi sorry it's been a while! i was finishing up a semester at uni, so forgive my absence with this little weird hybrid ficlet of mine featuring the one and only

i hope you enjoyed and thank you for taking time out of your day to enjoy my writing! likes/comments/reblogs are always noticed and are always appreciated (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ !!!

[wysteria-bloom]

▨ "our child is an angel"

JJK characters when called into teacher's office about their child

Characters : gojo, toji, nanami, sukuna

Genre : fluff, crack

Warnings : I use female pronouns

A/n : Toji is not a deadbeat dad in this one because yeah. Wish he was canonical a hot dilf but we can never get what we want where Gege is concerned 😟

⟢ gojo satoru ␥

"When your son was asked to wait to go to the bathroom, he replied 'I will pee on your floor then bitch.'" The teacher spoke solemnly.

Satoru immediately snorted which you gave him a death glare for, pinching his thigh harshly.

You frowned," Well, before I question why the teacher denied bathroom privileges..." you turned to your husband. Your son was pouting next to you both, looking away with narrowed eyes," That doesn't sound like him at all, does it Satoru?"

Satoru immediately agreed with you, shaking his head," N-no. Not at all. Who taught you that language, kiddo?"

His son looked at him with a betrayed expression, pointing at him accusingly "YOU did!" He exclaimed.

Satoru's smile was pained as you slowly turned your head to him, eyebrows furrowing,"... Thank you for your time, Mrs. Fiyumi. I will have a stern talking. With BOTH of them." Then you gave her the brightest smile," I think it's all the candy they've been eating, I think maybe it's time to cut down on it all, yeah?"

The teacher nodded in agreement with a knowing smile," Yes, I agree."

The two males simultaneously slouched back into their chairs with loud groans which they covered up with coughs when you glared at them.

Satoru mustered a charming grin, settling a loving hand on your shoulder," I've been meaning to go on a diet anyways, haha..."

You rolled your eyes and patted his hand with yours in a pitying way," shut up, my love."

"Dad! Grow a backbone, you lanky idiot!" Your son scoffed out disapprovingly.

The white-haired man's charming grin fell instantly and he glared beneath his glasses," shut up you-"

⟢ nanami kento ␥

"Yes, your daughter got into a fight with one of the boys and managed to split his lip." The teacher gestured to the little girl in the chair who was sitting oh so politely.

Nanami hummed lowly, brows furrowed," not good." He said with that disappointed drawl to his tone that could make anybody curl into themselves with shame, his own daughter cringing to herself.

You merely raised a brow at your daughter," That right? So she won?" You asked bluntly.

A warm hand settled on your knee, squeezing lovingly and as a warning," not the point, love." Nanami grunted out disapprovingly.

The girl grinned with her cute gap-tooth, blue eyes glinting with pride as she looked to her mother," I won!!" She chirped," he pulled my hair so I split his lip!"

Her parents stared on in silence before Nanami gave her a small smile filled with warmth," Good girl."

⟢ ryomen sukuna ␥

"Your daughter punched Midori-"

Sukuna held up a hand," Don't need to hear it. Let's go." He began to stand up, tugging his little girl by the hood of her hoodie.

You shook your head in disapproval at your husband and looked to the teacher," I'm sorry, can you give me more context?"

Sukuna scoffed," Babe. Its obviously about that rich kid again. The little shit who bullies her? Yeah. Don't give a fuck. I'm proud of my fuckin' daughter." He glared at the teacher and walked out of the room with his daughter following anxiously behind.

Your eye twitched before you stood up slowly, offering a pained smile to lighten the load," well, you heard the man. Thanks." You left as well, not before tugging on your husband's ear like a mother and giving your girl a kiss on the forehead and a promise of ice cream.

Sukuna crouched down to her level and pinched his daughter's cheek with a bored expression, eyes glinting in amusement at the sight of her nose scrunching up at the actions," Next time? Put her through endless torture and misery. I can teach you a few techniques--"

You had to step in before your husband created a potential serial killer.

⟢ fushiguro toji ␥

"Megumi got into a fight aga-"

Toji let out an obnoxiously loud yawn, wiping away the sleepy dust from his eyes as his wife fretted over their son's messy black hair.

"Ugh, I swear your hair drives me crazy, Megs. You definitely didn't get it from my genes." You muttered as you tried to smooth out the strands.

Megumi merely sighed and pushed your hands away with an uncomfortable frown etched onto his face," Mom. Listen to Mrs. Fiyumi." He scolded lightly.

"I am, I am." You whined to him, turning to face the teacher with a frown on your lips.

"You too, dad."

Toji blinked at his son before scoffing," I was, I was." He let out a fatherly grunt as he sat straight in his chair, large hand resting on your thigh as he did, looking to the teacher in boredom.

The teacher cleared her throat, giving the small child a thankful nod for keeping his parents in check," As I was saying, little Megumi got into a fight with a boy yesterday. This behaviour seems very unlike him, so I was just worried if there's anything going on at home lately that's stressing him out?"

Megumi's brows furrowed but he didn't open his mouth, sitting politely in his chair. You hummed," Well, I suppose he hasn't been getting a good amount of sleep lately. But that's all I can think of." You settled a hand on your husband's that was caressing your thigh gently.

Toji hummed," just apologise, Megs. An' we'll be on our way." He grumbled to his son, waving his free hand dismissively.

Megumi cleared his throat and stood up, bowing to his teacher, which shocked her a little," I'm sorry, Mrs. Fiyumi. I won't hit anyone again." When he stood to his full-height, he looked her straight in the eye," I hope your failed marriage is getting better." He stated in such a polite and genuine manner.

Toji bursted out laughing - cackling like a witch whilst you stared at your son in complete horror, tugging his hair scoldingly.

[syluslnd]

Hi! We would like to ask for a post about children with ms and silus. Imagine that MC and Sylus already have 3 sons and their little girl is born. And the sons and Sylus can't move away for a second. And Mc jokingly teases Sylus and her sons. But at the same time, she is very happy to cuddle her little daughter once again. You can also add twins, that with such a father and 3 older brothers, it is unlikely that she will find a husband, to which Silus and his sons say that she does not need any boyfriend and they themselves will be able to protect their baby. 🌸❤️

I apologize for my poor English. 🙂‍↕️

sylus & your sons being clingy

The house was never quiet these days—not with a newborn, three sons who seemed to have an endless supply of energy and a husband who was just as protective of you as the day you met. If anything, Sylus seemed to have doubled up on his overprotective streak since your daughter’s birth.

You finally slipped away to the nursery, hoping for a moment to yourself as you checked on your daughter, her tiny hand curled up against her cheek as she slept.

But as usual, you weren’t alone for long. Sylus appeared in the doorway with a smirk and seconds later your teenager and your preteen all filed in one after another, crowding around you.

“Don’t you guys ever give me a moment’s peace?” you teased, turning around to find them grinning back at you.

“Not a chance, sweetheart” Sylus said smoothly, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Besides, you don’t really want us to leave you alone, do you?”

Now the twins like and kieran exchanged their usual mischievous glances and your preteen and teen just shrugged with a smile. You rolled your eyes, amused and touched all at once by how clingy they all were.

Looking down at your daughter, you joked, “She’s in for it, you know? With all of you around, it’s going to be hell for her to get a boyfriend one day.”

Sylus’s hand around your waist tightened, his expression shifting instantly to mock-seriousness. “Boyfriend? She won’t ever have a boyfriend.” He looked over at your sons, eyebrows raised. “Right, boys?”

They’re always quick to play along they crossed their arms and nodded solemnly. “Right. Boyfriend? Not happening.”

Your teen not missing a beat, chimed in, “If a guy even tries, we’ll be there. First date? Chaperoned and by chaperoned, I mean interrogated.”

your preteen grinned, looking from Sylus to his brothers and back to you. “She’s covered, Mom. There’s no way anyone’s getting past us.”

You laughed, shaking your head at the overprotective chorus of agreement. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Sylus grinned, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Maybe so but we’ll keep her safe.”

Your teen and preteen glanced at each other with a smirk. “Hey, when do you think Dad’s going to put an ad out for applications for a ‘bodyguard squad’ for her first day of school?”

Kieran snorted. “Already ahead of him. I’m working on the interview questions right now. First question: ‘What’s your bench press?’ Second question: ‘How fast can you run away if you think you’re in trouble?’”

You laughed, playfully pushing Kieran back. “You two are going to scare her to death with your antics” you said, shaking your head.

Sylus squeezed you a little closer, a glint of amusement in his eyes as he looked down at you. “Oh, she’ll be fine. Just like her mom, she’ll handle all of us just fine.”

With a contented sigh, you turned back to your sleeping daughter, feeling the warmth of your family around you, their protectiveness just as strong as their love. It wasn’t peace and quiet but you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

[estellan0vella]

Never Felt Safer: B.C & H.J Bang Chan x fem!reader x Han Jisung (College AU)

WC: 17.4K

CW: Anxiety, panic attacks, pre-established relationship between Chan and Jisung, implied sex, mxm scenes, Minlix in the background, simp Chansung, pining Chansung, twin!Felix, protective!Felix, Comforting!Minho

General Masterlist SKZ Masterlist

The Alpha Phi living room smells like a mix of old pizza, faint cologne, and someone's leftover gym socks, probably Changbin's, based on the guilty glance he shoots toward the corner of the couch. Felix lounges at the centre of the chaos, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle on the coffee table, holding a Red Bull like it’s his life force.

“Alright, listen up, dickheads zero through five,” Felix announces, voice cutting through the buzz of chatter like a knife.

Minho, seated next to him with his arms casually sprawled across the back of the couch, raises an eyebrow. “Not me, though, right?”

Felix tilts his head toward Minho with a smirk. “Not you, Min. You’re an evil angel, and I love having you here.”

Minho grins, sharp and smug, clearly revelling in the attention. Jisung immediately leans forward from his perch on the floor, waving a hand. “What number am I?”

“Two,” Felix says without hesitation, pointing at him with the Red Bull. “Chan’s number one.”

Jisung’s face splits into a shit-eating grin, and he wiggles his eyebrows at Chan, who’s perched in the armchair nearby with his usual relaxed confidence. Without any preamble, Jisung climbs into Chan’s lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world, snuggling against him and fiddling with a fidget cube. Chan chuckles, resting one hand on Jisung’s hip.

“Fine with me,” Jisung mutters, twisting the cube over and over. “I’ll take number two if it means I get first dibs on this guy.”

“Gross,” Seungmin deadpans from the other couch, tossing a pillow in their direction. “We get it, you’re disgustingly in love.”

“Jealous?” Jisung fires back, not missing a beat.

“Hard pass.”

Jeongin, who’s been scrolling on his phone next to Seungmin, pipes up. “So, what’s up? You’re building to something.”

Felix straightens, his expression growing just a little more serious. “My sister’s coming over tomorrow.”

Immediately, a wave of groans rolls through the room, but Felix cuts them off with a sharp glare. “Shut the fuck up and listen, okay? She’s coming over to practice some SFX on me and Minho, and you know how anxious she is. So no scaring her, got it? I’m looking at you, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin, sprawled dramatically across the other armchair with his long legs dangling over one side, raises both hands in mock surrender. “What the fuck did I do?”

“You almost gave her a stroke last time,” Felix snaps, jabbing a finger in his direction. “Which is why you’re dickhead zero, the eternal source of my disdain, affectionately, of course.”

“I told her she looked pretty!” Hyunjin protests, clearly offended. “How is that a crime?”

“You terrified her with your pretty frat boy bullshit!” Felix throws his hands up. “She has anxiety, you dumbass, and you made her turtle.”

Hyunjin blinks. “Turtle?”

Felix rolls his eyes so hard it’s a wonder they don’t get stuck. “Disappear inside her shell. Like turtles do, idiot.”

Minho, watching the exchange with a small smirk, finally chimes in. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep them reined in.”

Felix blows Minho a kiss, the pink tips of his ears betraying his casual tone. “Thanks, Min.”

The room erupts into groans and exaggerated gagging sounds, but Felix ignores them. He levels the rest of the group with a sharp look. “Best behaviour. You hear me?”

A collective murmur of agreement goes around the room. Changbin nods solemnly. “Got it, chief.”

“Scout’s honour,” Seungmin says, holding up three fingers.

Felix doesn’t even pause before snapping back, “You were never a scout a day in your life. Shut the fuck up.”

Minho chuckles low in his throat, and Felix shoots him a fond glance before continuing. “Minho’s the only one who doesn’t freak her out, so the rest of you better leave her alone. She’s coming here to practice, not to deal with you idiots.”

Jeongin, ever the instigator, smirks. “The only reason Minho doesn’t freak her out is because you and him see her once a week for dinner at her apartment. Brother, sister, and brother’s sort-of-undefined-but-basically-dating boyfriend.”

Felix’s ears turn a brighter shade of pink, and he sputters, “That’s not—”

“It was a process, believe us,” Minho interrupts smoothly, leaning forward to rest his chin on his hand. He gives Jeongin a slow, deliberate wink. “But you’re not wrong.”

“See?” Jeongin shrugs. “I’m just saying.”

The room falls into a comfortable rhythm of teasing and chatter, but two pairs of eyes linger on Felix for just a moment longer than the rest. Chan’s and Jisung’s. Chan’s gaze softens as it shifts, landing on the small space between Felix’s explanation and the mention of his sister.

Jisung catches Chan’s look, his lips quirking up into a knowing smile. It’s the same thought, unspoken but clear between them: tomorrow’s visit isn’t just about SFX practice.

It’s about seeing you.

The Alpha Phi house looms in front of you, just as chaotic and intimidating as always. The faint sounds of bass-heavy music thrum from somewhere inside, even though it’s not even noon.

You take a deep breath and clutch the strap of your makeup case tighter. The last time you knocked on this door without a plan, Hyunjin had answered, and your anxiety had spiralled out of control before you’d even crossed the threshold.

Not this time. Felix and Minho are already outside, leaning casually against the porch railing, waiting for you.

“Finally,” Felix calls out as soon as he spots you approaching. His blonde hair gleams in the sunlight, and he’s already wearing his signature shit-eating grin. “Took you long enough, slowpoke.”

You roll your eyes but can’t stop the small smile that creeps onto your face. “Traffic,” you mutter, hefting your makeup case as you reach the steps.

Minho pushes off the railing, straightening up. His red hair is pushed back today, giving him an air of effortless cool that would probably be irritating if it weren’t for the slight curve of his lips that softens the look. Without a word, he takes the case from your hands like it weighs nothing.

“Thanks,”

“No problem,” Minho says, his voice smooth and calm. He gestures toward the front door with a nod. “We’ve cleared the hallway and stairs for you. Path to Felix’s room is officially fuckboy-free.”

You let out a laugh, your shoulders easing a little. “Good. I don’t think I could survive another Hyunjin ambush.”

Felix snorts, opening the door for you. “Yeah, well, he’s banned from being anywhere near the front of the house when you’re coming over. Lesson learned.”

“Damn right,” you mutter, stepping inside. “So, no flirting this time?”

Minho smirks. “Not unless you’re into compliments like ‘you look like you belong in a museum.’ That’s what got you last time, right?”

You groan. “Please don’t remind me.”

Felix waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry, he’s not even awake yet. I think he stayed up all night painting or something. Total disaster.”

The three of you make your way up the stairs, Minho carrying your case with ease. “So,” he says, glancing back at you, “what are we doing today? Zombies? Scars? Some gory masterpiece to make my mother proud?”

You chuckle nervously. “Uh, SFX injuries, if that’s okay? I need to work on realistic wounds for my portfolio.”

“Wounds it is,” Minho says without missing a beat. He holds the case up slightly. “You brought all your murder tools, I assume?”

“Always,” you say, grinning despite yourself.

You don’t notice Jisung peeking out from the slightly cracked door of his room as you pass, his silver hair messy and his eyes wide with interest. He stays quiet, though, watching as the three of you disappear down the hall toward Felix’s room.

When you step inside, the familiar chaos of Felix’s room greets you. Posters are plastered across the walls in a chaotic patchwork of vibrant colours, and his gaming setup blinks with multicoloured LEDs in the corner. Felix flops into his gaming chair immediately, spinning in a lazy circle as Minho sets your case down gently on the bed.

“Sorry about… all of this,” you say, gesturing vaguely around the room. Your voice comes out softer, more hesitant. “Making the guys stay out of the way and everything.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Minho says, sitting down beside you on the bed. His tone is casual, but there’s a firmness to it that makes you feel a little less guilty. “The guys are a lot, even on a good day. This is nothing.”

Felix hums in agreement, spinning once more in his chair before planting his feet and leaning forward. “Seriously, you don’t have to apologize. They’re all idiots, but they know better than to mess with you. And if they don’t, Min and I will handle it.”

You glance down at your hands, fiddling with the anxiety rings on your fingers. Felix notices, of course, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he distracts you the only way he knows how by grinning at you like he’s just had the best idea in the world.

“So, murder makeup, huh?” he says. “Think you can make Minho look even hotter with a giant gash across his face?”

“Easily,” you say, a laugh bubbling out of you before you can stop it.

Minho raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It was,” you admit, feeling a little less nervous now as you pull out your supplies. “Thanks for, you know being cool about this.”

“Always,” Minho says simply, his tone so genuine that it surprises you.

Felix wheels his gaming chair closer to the bed, the wheels creaking against the hardwood floor. He plants his elbows on the edge of the mattress and leans in, watching you as you sort through your SFX makeup kit.

The little compartments are crammed with pigments, brushes, sponges, and bottles of fake blood in varying shades of grotesque. Minho leans back on the bed next to you, his sharp gaze flicking between your hands and Felix, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Felix says, clapping his hands together like he’s rallying a team. His grin is mischievous, practically glowing with chaotic energy. “I wanna scare the shit out of Jisung and Chan, just like when you did that burns look”

Minho snorts, his laughter low and amused. “We should’ve filmed that for you. The way Jisung screamed when he saw you standing there? Priceless.”

Felix tips his head back and cackles. “He looked like he saw a ghost”

You shake your head, but you can’t help the small laugh that escapes. “You’re such a menace,” you mutter, pulling a headband out of your bag and holding it up. “Okay, sit still, Lix.”

Felix obeys and lets you push the headband over his head, sweeping his bleach-blonde hair back from his face. The ends stick out in every direction, and you grimace, running a finger through one crunchy strand.

“You need to put a hair mask in this disaster,” you say, holding up a particularly fried piece. “The bleach is murdering it.”

“I’ve been telling him that for weeks,” Minho says, leaning forward to inspect Felix’s hair critically. His tone is playful, but there’s an undercurrent of concern. “Baby boy, you’re gonna go bald by twenty-five at this rate.”

You gag dramatically at the nickname. “Ew. Minho, please. I’m trying to work here.”

Felix rolls his eyes, brushing both of you off. “Whatever, it’s fine. I’ll deal with it later.”

“Later isn’t good enough,” you say, wagging a brush at him like a weapon. “You’ll be doing comb-overs by the time you graduate if you don’t fix this now.”

Felix groans, but there’s no real bite to it. He stays still as you start applying a base layer of makeup to his face, smoothing out the colour to prep for the fake wounds. The rhythmic motion is soothing, and you quickly fall into a comfortable flow.

Minho grabs his phone and starts scrolling. A moment later, the opening notes of a Little Mix song fill the room. He turns the volume up, the beat bouncing off the walls. “Little Mix is undefeated,” Minho says, reclining again with a self-satisfied smile.

“You’re so right,” you reply, adding a streak of red to Felix’s cheekbone. “They’re perfect for this.”

Felix hums along to the song, swaying slightly as you blend out the faux injury. “I feel like a bad bitch already.”

“You are a bad bitch,” Minho chimes in. “You just happen to have the hair care routine of a gremlin.”

Before Felix can retort, the next song starts. The three of you are nodding along to the beat, when a loud voice from the hallway joins in, belting out the chorus with alarming enthusiasm.

Felix’s head snaps toward the door, his expression shifting to murderous in an instant. “Jisung! Go away!” he yells, his voice cutting through the music. “You know not to come near my room when my sister’s here!”

A loud, theatrical whine echoes back. “But it’s Little Mix! You can’t expect me to not sing along!”

You glance at Felix, stifling a laugh as he throws his hands up in frustration. “I swear to God,” he mutters, leaning back in his chair.

Before he can get up, another voice cuts in, Chan’s, calm and soothing. “Come on, babe. Let’s go play Little Mix in your room, yeah?”

There’s a beat of silence, then the unmistakable sound of Jisung perking up. “Really? You mean it?”

“Yes,” Chan replies, laughter evident in his voice. “Come on. Let’s go.”

The two of them disappear down the hall, but not before you hear the exaggerated sound of Jisung smooching Chan. It’s so loud and obnoxious that it sends Felix spiralling into a fit of cackles.

“They’re so fucking gross,” Felix mutters, wiping a tear from his eye as he settles back into position. “Alright, where were we?”

“Making you look like you got into a bar fight,” you reply, dipping your brush into the next colour. “Now hold still, or I’ll make it worse.”

“Can’t get much worse than it already is,” Minho teases, and Felix flips him off without missing a beat. “I’m gonna order us food. Any objections?”

Your hands pause mid-blend as you work on Felix’s makeup. “Oh, no, it’s fine,” you say quickly, the words spilling out in a rush. “I’m not really hungry.”

Felix scoffs so hard that he nearly dislodges the headband. “She’ll have the least spicy tteokbokki you can find,” he says, completely ignoring your protest. “She can’t handle spice, just like me. We’re not freaks like you, Min, who eat the spiciest shit they can find for fun. Order her food. She’s just being her little anxious self, panicking about you buying her food.”

“Felix!” you whine as you nudge him hard with your elbow. “Stop calling me out!”

Minho snorts, shaking his head as he pulls up the food delivery app on his phone. “He’s not wrong, though. You’re too polite for your own good. Just let me order you something. You can eat later if you’re not hungry right now.”

Felix grins, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “Trust Min. He’s the responsible one here.”

“Debatable,” you mutter, focusing back on the gash you’re painting on Felix’s cheek.

“Rude,” Minho says with mock offence. “I’m only ordering in because I can’t be bothered to cook. Every time I do, it’s like vultures descend on the kitchen. I make one decent meal, and suddenly it’s a free-for-all.”

“That’s because you’re the best cook in this house,” Felix says matter-of-factly. “No one else even comes close. What did you expect?”

“Not to be treated like a five-star restaurant, that’s for sure,” Minho grumbles, scrolling through the menu.

You try again, your voice quieter this time. “Seriously, though, Minho, you don’t have to-”

“Nope,” Minho interrupts, holding up a hand without even looking at you. “Also, no paying me back. End of story.”

“But-”

“Shhhhh.” He cuts you off again, this time with an exaggerated shushing noise, his tone dripping with amusement. “If you keep arguing, we’re settling this on the football field. First one to score a touchdown wins.”

You give him a flat look. “I’d lose in ten seconds.”

“Exactly,” he says with a smug grin, clicking the order confirmation on his phone.

Felix lets out a loud laugh, nearly knocking the makeup sponge out of your hand. “God, he’s so full of himself. I love it.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re impossible, both of you.”

“And you love us for it,” Felix says, winking. “Now hurry up with my face so I can take selfies to scare the shit out of people.”

Minho smirks, leaning back against the headboard as the three of you settle into the easy rhythm of banter and laughter. The lighthearted atmosphere helps ease the tight knot of anxiety in your chest, and for a while, it’s just the three of you, surrounded by the comforting chaos of Felix’s room.

Jisung’s room is a certified disaster zone. Clothes strewn everywhere, half-empty snack bags crumpled on his desk, and a pile of notebooks teetering precariously on the edge of his chair. Despite the chaos, it’s unmistakably Jisung’s space, with posters of indie bands and anime characters covering every inch of the walls.

The air smells faintly of the caramel-scented candle Chan had gifted him a week ago, though it does little to mask the underlying hint of energy drinks.

Jisung sits cross-legged on the bed, bouncing slightly with nervous energy as Sweet Melody blasts from the Bluetooth speaker on the nightstand. He hums along to the chorus, his voice light and airy, but his fingers are picking relentlessly at a loose thread on the corner of the blanket. The thread gets longer with each tug, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care.

Chan, sprawled out on his back next to him, notices. He always notices. His dark eyes flick from Jisung’s hands to his face, taking in the slight furrow of his brow and the way his lips press into a thin line between lyrics.

“I can hear your brain running a million miles a minute,” Chan says finally, his voice soft but laced with curiosity. “What’s up?”

Jisung freezes mid-bounce, the loose thread now wrapped around his finger. He glances at Chan, his silver hair falling into his eyes, and sighs dramatically. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit,” Chan replies without hesitation, sitting up and leaning on one elbow. “You’ve been picking at that blanket for the last five minutes, and you only do that when something’s eating at you. So, spill.”

Jisung hesitates, chewing on his bottom lip. He tugs at the thread one more time before finally blurting out, “How the fuck are we supposed to get close to her if Felix is glued to her side every second she’s here?”

Chan blinks, caught off guard by the sudden outburst, but he doesn’t interrupt. Jisung continues, words spilling out in a rush. “Like, I get it, he’s her brother, her twin, her emotional support whatever-the-fuck, and I respect that, okay? I do. But how are we supposed to make any progress if he’s constantly playing guard dog? I mean, we want her to be the third in our relationship, but we can’t even fucking talk to her.”

There it is. The frustration, the longing, the anxiety. It all comes tumbling out in a messy, unfiltered stream. Jisung runs a hand through his hair, making it stick up in wild angles, and looks at Chan with wide, pleading eyes. “What do we do, Chan? How do we even start?”

Chan leans back against the headboard, crossing his arms over his chest as he considers his words. “If we spoke to her, like, really tried to make our intentions clear, she’d probably have a panic attack.”

Jisung winces, already halfway through forming a rebuttal, but Chan isn’t finished.

“And then you’d have a panic attack for causing her panic attack,” Chan adds, his tone matter-of-fact.

Jisung gasps, clutching his chest dramatically. “Okay, so we’re just dropping truth nukes today? That was a personal fucking attack.”

“Yep.” Chan grins, entirely unbothered. “Because I know you, Ji. You overthink everything when it comes to her. You want to protect her and impress her and somehow confess your feelings all at once, but you freeze up every time she’s in the room.”

Jisung groans, flopping back onto the bed and throwing an arm over his face. “You’re not wrong, but do you have to say it out loud?”

“I do,” Chan says, nudging Jisung’s knee with his own. “Because you need to hear it. She’s not like us. She’s got walls up for a reason, and we can’t bulldoze our way through them just because we want to.”

“So what, then?” Jisung mumbles, his voice muffled by his arm. “We just sit here and pine while Felix keeps giving us death glares every time we so much as look at her?”

Chan chuckles, lying back down beside him. “No, dumbass. We take it slow. Be patient. Show her that we’re not just a couple of horny frat boys looking to make her a notch on our belt.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jisung sighs, letting his head roll to the side as Sweet Melody fades into another song. “Fine. We’ll play the long game. But if Felix cockblocks us one more time, I’m going to scream.”

Chan props himself up on his elbows, watching Jisung fidget with the loose thread again. After a moment, he sits up fully, reaching for his backpack that’s been haphazardly tossed onto the floor. “I did find this,” he says, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. He smooths it out against his thigh and holds it up for Jisung to see.

“What the fuck is that?” Jisung asks, tilting his head as he squints at the flyer.

“It’s from the cosmetology and SFX department,” Chan explains, his grin widening. “They’re looking for part-time models for the students. Hourly pay, and they feed you.”

Jisung grabs the flyer, scanning the text quickly. His eyes widen as the gears in his head start turning. “You absolute fucking genius, Bang Chan,” he says, smacking Chan’s arm with the paper. “This is why I love you. You’re getting the dick-sucking of your life tonight, and I’ll even do that position you like to fuck me in.”

Chan smirks, leaning back on his hands. “Why not now?”

Jisung rolls his eyes, though his grin is practically glowing. “Because I want to see a peek of her before she leaves. Duh.”

Chan snorts, shaking his head. “You’re such a simp.”

Jisung flops back onto the bed, clutching the flyer dramatically to his chest. “You’re not wrong. I peeked out of my door when she came upstairs with Felix and Minho earlier.”

Chan’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, yeah? What’d she look like?”

“She was wearing this cute cropped white sweater, you know, the off-the-shoulder kind? And those mom jeans that make her ass look, like, ugh,” Jisung says, waving his hand like he’s at a loss for words. “Her hair was clipped up all messily, and she had eyeliner so sharp it could cut a bitch.”

Chan groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “Fuck. Wish I’d thought about peeking.”

“You missed out,” Jisung says with a sing-song lilt, flipping onto his stomach to look at Chan. “She looked like an angel. Or a menace. Or both.”

“Definitely both,” Chan agrees with a chuckle.

Jisung holds the flyer up again, studying it as if it holds all the answers to their problems. “This is fucking genius. You’re a genius. We can get close to her, right? Like, we sign up, become her models, and bam! We’re friends! She gets less anxious around us, trusts us, and then bam! She falls in love with us.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Chan says, leaning over to ruffle Jisung’s hair. “And if it doesn’t work, at least we’ll have some cool makeup looks.”

“It’ll work,” Jisung insists, his excitement bubbling over. He giggles, tossing the flyer onto the bed before pouncing on Chan, knocking him back against the pillows. “God, I fucking love you.”

Jisung peppers Chan’s face with kisses, laughing between each one as Chan tries and fails to push him off. Chan’s hands find their way to Jisung’s waist, gripping tightly before sliding down to his ass, squeezing just enough to make Jisung gasp.

“You’re obsessed,” Jisung teases, wiggling his hips in Chan’s hold.

“Can you blame me?” Chan retorts, his fingers tracing over Jisung’s waist like it’s his favourite thing in the world. “You’re fucking perfect.”

“Damn right, I am,” Jisung says, leaning down to kiss him properly this time. 

Jisung breaks the kiss with a grin, his forehead pressed against Chan’s. “My genius, sexy boyfriend,” he murmurs, voice dripping with affection as his hands rest on Chan’s chest. Before Chan can reply, the faint creak of a door opening filters through the chaos of Jisung’s room.

Both of them freeze.

“That’s Felix’s room,” Jisung whispers, wide-eyed. He scrambles off Chan in a flurry of movement, almost tripping over a discarded hoodie on the floor as he darts toward the door. Chan follows, his socked feet sliding a little on the hardwood.

They press themselves against the doorframe, carefully peeking through the narrow gap. Sure enough, Felix’s bedroom door is ajar, and you step into the hallway, your makeup case in hand. Felix and Minho trail behind you, chatting to you about something, but neither of them notices the two lurking shadows just down the hall.

Chan’s eyes immediately drop to your figure, taking in the way your jeans hug your curves. His lips part as he lets out a low whistle under his breath. “That ass,” he mutters, barely audible.

Jisung hums in agreement, his gaze just as fixated. “Fucking hell,” he says, practically purring. “Alright, seeing her ass in those jeans has me ready.”

Chan tears his eyes away from you just long enough to glance at Jisung. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jisung says, his grin wicked. “You ready to get your dick sucked?”

“Yes.” Chan’s reply is instant, decisive. Without taking his eyes off you for a moment longer than necessary, he reaches out and kicks the door shut with his foot, the sound reverberating through the room.

Jisung laughs, already grabbing at Chan’s shirt to pull him closer. “God, I fucking love you.”

“Show me,” Chan says, smirking as Jisung shoves him back toward the bed. Whatever comes next is their business, but one thing’s certain: both of them are more determined than ever to turn the object of their admiration into something far more significant.

The classroom is buzzing with energy, chatter bouncing off the walls as students set up their stations for the day. You sit in your usual spot near the back, partially shielded by a tall counter stacked with brushes, pigments, and latex prosthetics.

Your SFX kit is open in front of you, neatly organized but untouched as you twist the anxiety rings on your fingers, trying to drown out the noise. The clipped-up mess of your hair keeps falling in your face, but you don’t have the energy to fix it.

Your teacher strides in, clapping their hands for attention. “Alright, everyone! Models are here. Be respectful, follow the guidelines, and remember to thank them for their time. This is a great opportunity to work with real people instead of mannequins, so make the most of it.”

The door swings open, and a group of about ten models shuffles in, their faces a mix of curiosity and boredom. You glance up, expecting a crowd of strangers. Instead, your breath catches in your throat as two very familiar figures step through the door. Chan and Jisung.

Chan looks effortlessly cool, dressed in black cargo trousers and a white t-shirt under a black knit sweater. His silver chain glints under the fluorescent lights, matching the one around Jisung’s neck.

Jisung, for his part, looks like he just stepped out of a fashion editorial. His cropped grey long-sleeved top shows just a hint of his toned stomach, and his baggy blue jeans hang low enough to reveal his white boxers. His sneakers are pristine, white as snow, and somehow, even in this classroom setting, he looks like he’s having the time of his life.

When they spot you, their faces light up. Jisung waves enthusiastically, practically bouncing on his heels, while Chan offers a more subdued but equally warm wave. You hesitate for a second, the overwhelming urge to disappear into your shell creeping up, but you manage a shy wave back.

Their reaction is immediate. Jisung’s grin widens, and Chan nudges him, clearly amused.

The other students notice them almost instantly, the energy in the room shifting. A few of the girls near the front start whispering, throwing glances at Chan and Jisung. It’s no secret that the two of them are infamous for their openness at parties, and now that they’re in the same room, the attention is palpable.

The teacher finishes their brief introduction and waves the models toward the stations. Almost immediately, a cluster of girls swarms Chan and Jisung, practically vying for their attention. Compliments fly left and right.

“Chan, you’d be perfect for my project.”

“Jisung, I love your skin tone. It’d be amazing to work with.”

“Have you modeled before? You totally look like you have.”

Chan and Jisung, however, seem completely unfazed by the attention. They exchange a look, a silent conversation passing between them, and then, without hesitation, they make a beeline for your station at the back of the room.

“Hello!” Jisung chirps as they reach you, his voice as cheerful as ever. He drops into the chair across from you, resting his chin on his hand.

“Hi,” you reply softly, your fingers still fiddling with your rings.

Chan pulls out the chair next to Jisung and sits down smoothly, his gaze warm but focused. “What a coincidence,” he says, his voice lower and steadier than Jisung’s. “We just wanted some extra cash, and here we are.”

You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. “Well, I’m glad it’s some familiar faces who picked me rather than total strangers,” you say, though the words come out in a rushed tumble. “I mean, I guess you two are strangers with recognizable faces, but, um, still better than total strangers.”

Jisung beams at you, clearly charmed by your rambling. Chan leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table. “Yeah? You’re not nervous about working with us?” His tone is teasing, but there’s genuine curiosity behind it.

“No, I-” You stop, realizing you’re about to contradict yourself, and shrug instead. “I’m just glad I won’t have to meet someone completely new. Familiar faces and all that.”

Jisung tilts his head, his silver hair catching the light. “So, how does this work, exactly? What do we do?”

You shrug again, feeling slightly more at ease under their curious but non-judgmental gazes. “It’s pretty simple. I just practice my SFX and different makeup looks on you. You sit still, let me do my thing, and you get paid by the university for your time.”

“That’s it?” Jisung asks, his expression lighting up. “We just get to chill while you turn us into zombies or whatever?”

Chan chuckles, his eyes never leaving your face. “Sounds like the easiest job ever.”

“It’s not as easy as it sounds,” you mumble, already reaching for your brushes. “I can be kind of a perfectionist.”

Jisung nudges Chan with his elbow, his grin widening. “I think we can handle that.”

“Alright,” you say, your voice steadying slightly as you flip through your kit. “I’m going to do bruises for you, Jisung. If that’s okay? It’s the quickest thing to start with, so you can get a feel for what it’s like and how still you’ll have to sit.”

“Okay!” Jisung chirps, his enthusiasm as boundless as ever. He leans forward slightly in his chair, watching you intently.

As you grab the foundation brush and a small compact, your fingers instinctively reach for your anxiety rings, twisting them back and forth in a soothing rhythm. You think you’re being subtle, but both Chan and Jisung notice. They exchange a quick look, just a flicker of understanding passing between them, before Chan leans back in his chair, breaking the tension.

“I’ll grab us some coffee from the table,” Chan says, standing up.

“Oh, don’t,” you reply quickly, looking up from your kit. “It’s gross. Seriously, it's undrinkable.”

Chan raises an eyebrow, amused. “That bad?”

“Worse,” you say, pulling a small coffee sachet from your tote bag and holding it out to him. “Use this. There’s a kettle in the corner.”

Jisung perks up immediately. “Ooh! I love that brand. Their hazelnut flavor is the shit.”

You smile shyly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear before turning your attention back to your kit. “It’s the only coffee I can actually stand,” you admit, pulling out your bruise palette.

Chan takes the sachet with a small nod. “Got it. Fancy coffee it is,” he says, heading toward the kettle.

As he leaves, Jisung rests his elbows on the table, leaning in just enough to stay in your line of sight. “So, you wanna get into the makeup industry?” he asks, his tone casual but genuinely curious.

You nod, focusing on applying a thin base layer of foundation to his temple. “Yeah. That’s the plan. Mostly SFX, though.”

“That’s cool as fuck,” Jisung says, his lips twitching into a grin. “When I become a famous crime reporter, I’ll hire you to make me look good on camera.”

The corner of your mouth quirks up into a small smile. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“You better,” he teases, his tone light and playful. “And when Chan opens his music production company, you can do his makeup for the promo stuff.”

You glance at him, a faint smile still on your face as you swap the foundation brush for a sponge. “The two of you have nice skin. You don’t really need makeup.”

Jisung smirks, his voice dropping slightly. “We’re a sexy couple, huh?”

Your brush falters for half a second, and you laugh softly, not trusting yourself to respond. Instead, you focus on the bruising, using purples and yellows from your palette to create a realistic-looking contusion on his temple.

Jisung doesn’t push. He sits quietly for a moment, letting you work, but his gaze never leaves your face. He notices the way your shoulders relax as you settle into your craft, your hands moving with practised ease. You’re more comfortable here, surrounded by brushes and palettes, than you ever seemed in the unfamiliar chaos of the frat house.

“You’re really good at this,” he says after a while, his voice softer.

“Thanks,” you murmur, your eyes focused on blending the colours seamlessly into his skin.

The kettle clicks off in the corner, and Chan returns a moment later with three steaming cups of coffee. He sets one down next to you with a small smile before sitting back in his chair, watching you work.

Jisung flashes him a quick grin. “Told you she’s good.”

“Yeah,” Chan agrees, his voice warm. “She’s really good.”

You glance at Chan, tapping the end of your brush against your lip in thought. “How good are you at sitting still?”

Chan smirks, leaning back slightly in his chair. “Much better than him,” he says, jerking his chin toward Jisung.

Jisung nods enthusiastically. “Oh, absolutely. I have the attention span of a squirrel who’s had crack, PCP, and coffee. Sitting still is not in my vocabulary. That was super hard for me.”

You snort, shaking your head as you pull out a small palette and sponge. “I could do scratches or maybe a split lip?”

“Do both,” Chan says. “Whatever you want. We’re here to help you, get free food, and get paid.”

Jisung grins, leaning forward slightly. “Emphasis on the helping you.”

Their casual support makes you smile, a real, unguarded smile, and you turn your attention to Chan, holding up a few shades next to his face to match his skin tone. The colours need to be just right for the scratches to look realistic, and you’re already envisioning the placement.

While you’re focused, Jisung starts poking around in your kit, pulling out sponges and brushes like he’s never seen them before. “What’s this thing for?” he mutters, holding up a stippling sponge.

“Jisung,” Chan says sharply, without even looking at him. “Sit down. Drink your coffee. Be a good boy.”

Jisung snorts, rolling his eyes but obediently sliding back into his chair. “You sound like a dad,” he mutters, taking a sip of his coffee.

Chan doesn’t respond, but the amused glint in his eye says enough.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head as you position Chan’s face just right, tilting his chin slightly so you can work. Starting with the scratches, you dab the base colour along his cheekbone in thin, jagged lines, layering the colours to create depth. The focus required for the details blocks out the noise of the room, narrowing your world to just the colours, textures, and angles.

Chan stays perfectly still, his gaze never leaving your face. Every so often, his eyes flick to your fingers, watching the way they move with such precision. He notices the way you fiddle with your anxiety rings between steps, your thumb brushing over the grooves as if grounding yourself. It’s subtle, but he catches it every time.

Jisung leans closer, resting his chin in his hand as he watches too. He doesn’t say much, which is rare for him, but he’s captivated by how your concentration transforms you. You’re not the shy, anxious girl who fidgets in uncomfortable spaces here. You’re in your element, confident, steady, and focused. Your smiles, when they appear, are genuine, and they feel like small victories to him and Chan both.

“Does this hurt?” Jisung asks suddenly, his voice breaking the quiet.

You blink, looking up from the scratches you’re blending on Chan’s cheek. “What? No, of course not. It’s just makeup.”

“Yeah, but you’re so good it’s making me feel phantom pain,” he says dramatically, and you chuckle softly, shaking your head.

“Sit still and let her work,” Chan says, his tone teasing.

“I’m literally not moving!” Jisung retorts, throwing his hands up.

You roll your eyes but smile as you switch to the split lip. Using a small detailing brush, you draw the initial line across Chan’s lower lip, smudging the edges for realism. You add layers of reds and purples, blending them seamlessly into his skin until the injury looks raw and freshly split.

The room fades away entirely as you work, your focus narrowing to the details of Chan’s face. You don’t notice the way he and Jisung exchange glances, silently communicating as they take note of your little habits, the shifty glance you throw at your rings when the noise gets too loud, the way your shoulders tense and relax in rhythm with your breathing.

They’re careful not to draw attention to it, subtly keeping the energy around you calm and light without you even realizing it.

When the scratches and bruising are complete, you step back, studying your work critically. You add a faint smudge of purple and green around the edges of the scratches, giving them the illusion of swelling, before finally reaching for the mirror.

“Alright,” you say, holding the mirror up for Chan. “What do you think?”

Chan leans in to look, his eyes widening slightly at the realism. “Holy shit,” he murmurs, turning his head from side to side. “This looks incredible.”

“Seriously,” Jisung chimes in, craning his neck to see. “It looks like someone decked you. This is insane.”

You feel a flicker of pride at their reactions, your lips curving into a small smile. “Thanks,” you say quietly, fiddling with your rings again.

“Can’t believe we get paid for this,” Chan says with a grin. “Best gig ever.”

Jisung nods enthusiastically. “We should’ve signed up for this ages ago.”

You laugh softly, your nerves starting to melt away as the three of you fall into an easy rhythm of conversation and quiet admiration.

The room buzzes with its usual energy, students chatting and setting up their kits, but Chan and Jisung sit off to the side, waiting. Jisung taps his boots against the floor rhythmically, glancing toward the door every few seconds. He adjusts the cuffs of his cropped leather jacket, his black vest underneath snug against his torso.

Chan sits next to him, leaning back in his chair, one leg bouncing slightly. His matching leather jacket and vest combo, paired with the loose baggy jeans, gives him an effortless edge, but his eyes flick toward the door just as often as Jisung’s.

“She’s late,” Jisung mutters, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Maybe she got held up,” Chan offers, though his voice carries the same undercurrent of unease.

When the door finally opens, you step inside, your movements stiff and your hands trembling slightly as they clutch your tote bag and makeup kit. You’re dressed in a blue and white tartan mini skirt with a matching cropped blazer, your makeup immaculate despite the visible tension in your posture. The messy clip holding your hair back looks like it’s hanging on by sheer determination.

Jisung immediately notices the trembling. His eyes widen, and he nudges Chan, who follows his gaze. Recognition flashes across Chan’s face, he’s seen this before, too many times with Jisung.

Jisung jumps up first, his wide smile doing little to mask the concern in his eyes. “Hey!” he calls out, his voice bright and warm, though there’s a softness to it meant just for you. He strides over quickly, motioning for you to follow him. “Come on. Let’s go to the other room for a sec. It’s quieter there.”

Chan is already beside you, taking the tote bag and your makeup case from your trembling hands without a word. “Let’s go,” he says gently, his presence steady and grounding as he gestures toward the hallway.

You nod numbly, letting Jisung lead the way. His cropped leather jacket bounces slightly with each step, and you focus on the rhythm of his boots against the floor, using it to anchor yourself.

Once inside the empty classroom, Jisung pulls out a chair and motions for you to sit. Chan places your bags down carefully on the table, then leans against it, his arms crossed but his expression soft.

Jisung crouches in front of you, his voice light and cheerful despite the tension in the room. “You know what I need right now?” he asks, tilting his head.

You blink at him, your breathing still uneven. “What?”

“Embarrassing childhood stories about Felix,” he says, his grin widening. “Come on, you’ve gotta have loads of them. Spill.”

You let out a shaky laugh, your fingers gripping the edge of the chair. “I- I do, but...”

“But nothing,” Chan interrupts, his tone playful but firm. “Give us the dirt. I’m talking full-on Felix humiliation. We need it.”

Jisung pulls something out of his pocket and holds it out to you. A small fidget cube. “Here. This always helps me. Try it.”

Your hands shake as you take the cube, turning it over in your fingers. The clicking and spinning mechanisms give you something to focus on, and you start to feel a faint sense of control creeping back in.

“There has to be something,” Chan says, his tone encouraging as Jisung moves to sit next to you, running a hand gently up and down your back. “Don’t hold out on us.”

You take a deep breath, the fidget cube helping to steady you as you begin. “Okay, um, there was this one time when Felix was sixteen. He had a massive crush on this guy, like, total heart eyes every time he saw him.”

Jisung hums, clearly intrigued. “Go on.”

“So,” you continue, a small smile creeping onto your face, “Felix heard that this guy loved birds. Like, absolutely obsessed with them. So Felix, in his infinite wisdom, decided he was going to catch a dove and give it to him.”

Both Chan and Jisung burst into laughter, but they don’t interrupt. They let you continue, their attention fully on you.

“He spent hours in the park with a net he bought from a fishing store,” you say, your voice growing steadier as the memory takes over. “And when he finally caught one, he brought it home, named it Cupid, and tried to teach it tricks to impress the guy.”

Jisung is practically wheezing at this point. “No fucking way.”

“I swear to God,” you say, a genuine laugh escaping you. “He even bought birdseed that was, like, premium grade or whatever because he thought it would make the dove healthier and shinier.”

Chan shakes his head, his own laugh rumbling low in his chest. “And did it work? Did the guy fall for him?”

“Nope,” you say, giggling. “The guy was allergic to birds.”

Jisung collapses against the back of his chair, clutching his stomach as he laughs. “That’s fucking priceless. Felix trying to be Mr. Romantic and failing spectacularly. I love it.”

Chan grins, his eyes softening as he watches you laugh. “See? That’s exactly the kind of story we needed.”

You fiddle with the fidget cube again, but your breathing is steady now, the tension in your shoulders easing. Jisung nudges you lightly with his elbow, his grin still wide. “Feel a bit better?”

“Yeah,” you admit, glancing between them. “Thanks.”

Chan straightens up, offering you a hand. “Anytime. Now, let’s get back before someone claims your station.”

You take his hand, letting him pull you up, and for the first time that day, you feel like the world isn’t spinning quite so fast.

Chan and Jisung step inside the classroom, hand in hand as Jisung grins at whatever Chan whispers in his ear. Chan’s black cargos and fitted compression shirt make him look every bit the confident leader he is, his silver chain glinting under the fluorescent lights.

Jisung, in his black trousers and the striking red-and-black watercolour-style top, walks with a similar self-assurance, the chain around his neck catching the same light. They’re already the centre of attention without even trying, but their eyes immediately scan the room for one person. You.

You’re at your usual station, sitting on a chair, but something’s off. Your shoulders are hunched, practically touching your ears as you try to shrink into yourself. Two girls are standing in front of you, leaning in far too close, their voices carrying just enough for Chan and Jisung to catch snippets of what they’re saying.

“Come on,” one of them purrs. “You know them, right? Set us up, just for one night. That’s all we’re asking.”

“They’re into sharing,” the other adds, her tone smug. “Everyone knows it. It’s not like they’d say no.”

You’re gripping the edge of your chair tightly, your knuckles turning white as you avoid eye contact. The tension radiates off you, your lips pressed into a thin line. Your green cargo trousers and white sleeveless turtleneck are immaculate, your hair clipped up messily but beautifully, and your makeup flawless as always, but the way you’re folding into yourself tells them everything they need to know.

Chan’s jaw tightens, and Jisung’s grip on his hand briefly tightens before he lets go, stepping forward. “Oi,” Chan snaps, his voice sharp enough to cut through the chatter in the room. “Leave her alone.”

Both girls turn, startled but not deterred. Their faces light up when they see Chan and Jisung approaching, and they immediately shift gears, their tones turning flirtatious.

“Oh, hey, guys,” the first girl says, batting her eyelashes. “We were just talking about you.”

“Yeah,” the second girl chimes in, smiling coyly. “We’ve been dying to get to know you better.”

Jisung rolls his eyes so hard it’s a wonder they don’t get stuck. “Both of you, piss off,” he says flatly, his voice dripping with irritation.

The girls falter for a moment but recover quickly, leaning into their usual tactics. “Don’t be like that,” the first girl says, pouting. “We know you like adding a girl to your relationship. It’s your thing, right?”

The second girl glances toward you, who’s practically curled into yourself at this point. “You two seriously can’t be considering her,” she says, gesturing toward you with a sneer. “I mean, come on.”

Chan’s glare is immediate and lethal. His dark eyes narrow, and his jaw clenches as he takes a threatening step forward. “Watch your mouth,” he says, his voice low and dangerous.

Jisung scoffs, turning his full attention to the girls. “What? You think we’d go for you? Don’t make me fucking laugh.”

The girls’ confidence wavers under the combined weight of their disdain, but they don’t leave right away. Jisung doesn’t wait for them to figure it out. He turns back to you, his expression softening as he crouches slightly to meet your eyes. “Fuck this noise,” he says gently. “You wanna come with us to grab coffee?”

You glance up at him, your hands still trembling slightly, and nod, your relief visible even through your lingering anxiety.

“Good,” Jisung says, standing up. He grabs your tote bag without hesitation while Chan picks up your makeup kit.

As they turn to leave, both of them shoot the girls looks that could kill. “Stay the fuck away from her,” Chan warns, his voice quiet but ice-cold.

Jisung doesn’t bother saying anything else, but the sharp glare he throws over his shoulder speaks volumes. Together, they guide you out of the classroom, their presence on either side of you making you feel safer with every step. The noise and tension of the room fade behind you as the door swings shut.

Once you’re in the hallway, Jisung flashes you a small, reassuring smile. “Let’s go get something sweet”

Chan nods, his expression softening now that you’re away from the chaos. “You’re with us. Don’t worry about anything else.”

The campus café is quiet at this time of day, a soft hum of conversation blending with the low buzz of the espresso machines. Chan leads the way to a corner table in the back, where it’s more secluded. He sets your makeup case down on the floor beside the table as Jisung pulls out a chair for you before plopping into one himself.

“What do you want to drink?” Chan asks, his voice steady and calm as he takes the seat opposite you.

You shake your head quickly, fiddling with the edge of your sleeve. “I’m fine, really.”

Jisung raises an eyebrow, leaning forward on his elbows. “Nope! Anxiety will not let you dehydrate on my watch,” he declares, his tone light but firm. “How about this, you can pay for the coffee next time. Sound good?”

You hesitate, glancing between them, but their expressions are so genuine, so patient, that you finally nod. “Okay. An iced caramel mocha, please.”

“Good choice,” Jisung says with a grin, leaning back in his chair.

As Chan heads toward the counter to order, Jisung places your tote bag on the table, his eyes lighting up when he notices the corner of a sketchbook sticking out. “You have a sketchbook?” he asks, already tugging it free.

“Yeah,” you reply, feeling a little self-conscious but smiling faintly. “If cosmetology and SFX don’t work out, tattooing is the backup plan.”

Jisung’s face lights up like it’s Christmas morning. “Can I peek?” he asks, his voice practically buzzing with excitement.

You nod, and he immediately cracks it open, flipping through the pages with wide eyes. “Ooh, I want that one,” he says, pointing to a minimalist snake design winding around a crescent moon. “And that one.” He gestures to a geometric wolf. “Oh, absolutely that one.” His finger lands on an intricate floral skull.

You can’t help but laugh softly. “If you like them so much, pencil your name next to the ones you want.”

“Done,” Jisung says, digging into your tote bag for a pencil. Instead of a pencil, his hand brushes against a box of tattoo pens, and he pulls it out, eyes sparkling. “Oooh! Can I have one now?”

“Sure,” you say, sliding the box toward him. “Pick a colour.”

Jisung immediately grabs a black pen and places it in your hand instead. “Draw something cool on me.”

There’s a smile on your lips as you grab his hand. His fingers twitch slightly as you adjust his position, your own hand steady as you start outlining a skeletal hand on the back of his. The pen glides smoothly over his skin, and you fall into your rhythm, focusing on each careful line.

Jisung watches you intently, his eyes darting between your concentrated expression and the design appearing on his hand. “This is so fucking cool,” he murmurs, tilting his head to watch you work. “Seriously, how are you this good?”

You shrug, not looking up. “Practice.”

By the time Chan returns with the drinks, Jisung’s hand already resembles a realistic skeleton hand in progress. Chan places your iced caramel mocha in front of you before sitting down with his own coffee. His gaze falls on Jisung’s hand, and his eyebrows raise slightly. “What’s this?”

“She’s giving me the coolest skeleton hand tattoo,” Jisung says proudly, holding his hand up briefly before letting you continue. “It’s semi-permanent. How long will it last?” he asks, glancing at you.

“About two weeks,” you reply, still focused on adding shading to the bones. “If you’re careful.”

“Careful?” Jisung scoffs. “Have you met me?”

Chan chuckles, leaning back in his chair to watch you work. “Guess we’ll see how long it survives. It’s a good look for you, though.”

Jisung grins, wiggling his fingers slightly, earning a small scolding from you as you steady his hand again. “I feel like a badass already.”

“You already are,” Chan says with a smirk, taking a sip of his coffee.

You finish the final details on Jisung’s skeleton hand, stepping back to admire your work. The clean black lines trace over his skin perfectly, each bone detailed with just enough shading to make it look almost real. “There,” you say, setting the pen down for a moment. “Done.”

Jisung twists his hand to get a better look, his grin widening. “Holy shit, this is incredible. You’re a fucking magician.”

“You’re being dramatic,” you reply with a faint smile, wiping your hands on a napkin.

“No, seriously. It’s so good!” Jisung glances at you, his grin turning sly. “So, can I have another?”

You arch an eyebrow but grab the pen again, motioning for him to roll up his sleeve. “What do you want this time?”

He taps his chin, pretending to think. “How about a sword? With a snake wrapped around it. Make it badass.”

“Got it,” you say, leaning over to begin sketching on his forearm. The pen glides smoothly over his skin as you map out the shape of the blade, the hilt, and the curling snake.

As you work, Jisung leans back slightly, looking over at Chan with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Hey, Chan. Baby. Sexy man.”

Chan gives him a flat look. “What.”

“How do you feel about Jisung’s bitch on your forehead with the tattoo pen?”

“No.”

Jisung pouts dramatically. “No hesitation? Not even a little consideration?”

“Not even a little,” Chan replies, sipping his coffee calmly.

You shake your head, biting back a smile as you continue detailing the snake coiling around the sword. The tip of the blade points toward Jisung’s wrist, and the snake’s head curves menacingly near the hilt, its fangs bared.

“Could we count this as a date?” Jisung asks suddenly, his voice casual but his grin anything but.

Your hand falters slightly, and you cough, your head snapping up to look at him. Before you can respond, Chan kicks him under the table, the dull thud making Jisung wince.

“Kidding! Kidding!” Jisung says quickly, throwing up his free hand in surrender. “Totally joking.”

You narrow your eyes slightly but don’t say anything, your focus snapping back to his arm as you continue detailing the snake’s scales with delicate precision.

While your attention is on the drawing, Chan leans forward slightly, his eyes narrowing at Jisung and he mouths, What are you doing?

Jisung shrugs dramatically, mouthing back, What?! It was worth a shot!

Chan rolls his eyes and mouths, Idiot.

Jisung grins, leaning closer to mouth back, At least now she might realise we’re interested.

Chan glares, his lips pressing into a tight line, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he leans back in his chair, his gaze softening as he watches you work.

You finish detailing the snake’s body, adding a hint of depth to its scales, before leaning back to examine your work. “Done,” you say. “What do you think?”

Jisung lifts his arm, turning it this way and that to admire the sword-and-snake design. His grin stretches from ear to ear. “It’s fucking perfect. You’re a genius.”

Chan nods in agreement, his voice warm. “It looks incredible.”

You glance between them, your cheeks warming slightly at their praise. “Thanks.”

As Jisung continues marvelling at his arm, you finally allow yourself a small smile, feeling a strange but welcome sense of ease in their company.

The Alpha Phi frat house is quieter than usual, a rare lull in the usual chaos. You make your way up the stairs, your sneakers squeaking faintly against the worn wood. Felix is at a culinary practical class, which means you have a golden window of opportunity to talk to Minho without your overprotective twin hovering nearby.

Reaching Minho’s room, you hesitate for a second before knocking twice and pushing the door open. The familiar scent of his room, clean laundry mixed with a faint hint of cologne, greets you as you step inside.

“Hey there, anxiety bundle,” Minho greets from his bed, where he’s lying with his phone in hand, scrolling lazily. He glances up, a small smirk playing on his lips.

You can’t help but grin, hopping onto the bed beside him. “Hi, Min.”

He sets his phone down, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you more closely. “So, what’s up? You look like you’ve got something on your mind.”

You take a deep breath, fiddling with the hem of your cropped turtleneck. “I wanted to talk to you about Chan and Jisung.”

Minho raises an eyebrow, his smirk widening slightly. “Chan and Jisung, huh? Have you ever even spoken to them?”

You bite your lip, nodding. “Yeah, they’re, uh, my models for my cosmetology and SFX extra credit stuff.”

“Interesting,” Minho says, his tone light but curious. He leans back against his pillows, giving you his full attention. “Go on.”

“They’re actually super cool to hang out with,” you admit, your voice softening as you pick at an invisible thread on the blanket. “But, we went to a café a couple of days ago, and Jisung asked if it was a date.”

Minho’s other eyebrow joins the first, his expression shifting to something more knowing. “You can’t tell they’re both into you?”

You blink at him, caught completely off guard. “Huh?”

Minho rolls his eyes, sitting up fully. “Come on, everyone in the frat but Lix knows. They’re not subtle. They like you and want you as a third in their relationship. A little polyamorous trio.”

You freeze, the words sinking in like a stone dropping into a still pond. “No. No way. No, I can’t- Nope. Nuh-uh. I am not relationship material. Nope. No way.”

Minho stares at you for a moment before letting out a low chuckle. “Okay, no breakdowns here. Deep breaths. You’re spiralling.”

“I’m not spiralling,” you protest weakly, even as your chest tightens.

“Right.” Minho reaches for the edge of his blanket, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. I’m going to blanket burrito you and then cuddle you until your stresses flow out of you. Arms free, of course, so you don’t feel too restricted.”

Before you can argue, he’s already wrapping the blanket around your shoulders, tucking it securely but leaving your arms free just as he promised. “There we go,” he says, satisfied with his work. “Comfy?”

You hum softly, leaning into his side as he pulls you closer. “Yeah. Surprisingly.”

Minho shifts slightly, adjusting the blanket around you as he tucks you closer into his side. His warmth seeps into you, and for the first time today, the tension in your shoulders starts to ease.

“So,” Minho begins, his tone light but teasing, “what do you wanna talk about? We cannot under any circumstances talk about black-haired football captains and silver-haired journalism students who wanna fuck you in what could possibly be the hottest threesome and three-way relationship to walk the earth. Anything but that horror, which I am wildly jealous of but we can’t discuss because you’re in an anxiety burrito.”

“Shut up!” you exclaim, smacking his arm lightly, though you can’t help the small laugh that escapes.

Minho gasps dramatically. “Excuse me. Everything I say is a blessing. Don’t silence the gospel.”

You roll your eyes, relaxing further against him. “Fine. Let’s talk about you and Lix. What’s going on there?”

Minho groans, tilting his head back against the headboard. “We’re, like, together. Without the labels.”

“Loser,” you mutter, smirking as you nudge his side.

His head snaps back down, and he glares at you playfully. “Listen here, brat. It’s your brother’s fault, alright? One minute he’s all over me, sucking my dick like it’s the cure to cancer, and the next, he’s chatting up and fucking every Theta Tau asshole who so much as glances in his direction.”

You grimace but can’t stop yourself from laughing. “Oh my God, Minho.”

“It’s true!” Minho insists, throwing up his hands. “Do you know how fucking confusing that is?”

You sit up slightly, resting your chin on your hand as you consider him. “Have you ever considered that Felix wants you to make the move?”

Minho pauses, his brow furrowing. “Huh. No. No, I did not. That actually makes sense.”

“You’re welcome,” you say with a smug smile. “I give sound relationship advice. Can’t follow it myself, but hey, it’s called anxiety.”

Minho snorts, ruffling your hair affectionately. “Fucking nerd. Alright, Yoda, explain this wisdom to me.”

“It’s simple,” you say, leaning back against him. “Felix probably doesn’t want to make things official because he’s scared of messing it up. He’s waiting for you to say something.”

Minho hums thoughtfully, his arm tightening slightly around your shoulders. “Okay. Fair point. I’ll think about it.”

There’s a beat of silence before Minho glances down at you, his smirk creeping back onto his face. “Now, back to you.”

“Nope,” you say quickly, shaking your head. “We’re done talking about me.”

“Look,” Minho begins, ignoring you completely. “You’re hot. Chan’s hot. Jisung’s hot. And those two have got it bad for you, sweetcheeks. I’m talking down horrendously bad. Me mooning over your brother? Nothing on those two.”

You groan, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. “Minho, stop.”

“Not a chance,” he says, his voice growing more serious. “You think you’re not relationship material, but I’ve seen the way they look at you. They’d bend over backwards to make you happy. You deserve that. You really do.”

You don’t respond, your fingers absently twisting the blanket’s edge. Minho doesn’t push further, letting his words sink in as he pulls you closer to his side, his presence steady and comforting.

“Anyway,” Minho says after a moment, his teasing tone returning, “I’m pretty sure Felix and I are the blueprint for dysfunctional relationships, so if I can make it work, you’ve got no excuse.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it,” he replies, grinning. For now, the weight of his words lingers, but it feels less like a burden and more like a possibility you can slowly start to consider.

The classroom hums with the usual pre-class energy. Students chatting, tools clinking against palettes, and brushes being sorted. Chan and Jisung are already seated at your station when you walk in, your steps hesitant. You’re dressed in green cargo trousers, black Converse, and a black cropped turtleneck, your hair messily clipped up as always. Your makeup is, as usual, flawless, the sharpness of your eyeliner contrasting starkly with the apprehension in your eyes.

But today, something’s off.

Chan notices it first. You don’t greet them like usual, instead setting your tote bag and kit on the table with trembling hands. Jisung picks up on it seconds later when you don’t return his grin or meet his gaze. You sit down silently, immediately busying yourself with unpacking your materials, your movements stiff and hurried.

“Hey,” Jisung says softly, leaning forward slightly. “You good?”

You don’t answer, pretending to focus on your brushes as if they’re suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. Your fingers fumble as you arrange them, the clinking sound drawing Chan’s attention. He exchanges a quick glance with Jisung, his brow furrowing.

“Y/N,” Chan tries, his tone low and gentle. “What’s going on?”

Still, you don’t respond. Instead, you grab your palette and turn to Jisung, gesturing for his arm. “I’m starting with the scarring,” you mumble, your voice so soft they almost miss it.

Jisung hesitates but holds out his arm, watching as you grab a brush and start applying a base layer. Your focus is razor-sharp, but something about the way your hands move feels mechanical, like you’re running on autopilot. You won’t look at him, your gaze glued to your work.

Jisung glances at Chan again, his worry evident. “Okay,” he says cautiously, trying to keep the mood light. “Guess we’re skipping the chit-chat today.”

No reaction.

As you work on creating realistic scarring up his forearm, Jisung tries again. “You know, I was thinking, maybe I should start a petition for you to do our makeup at frat parties. You’d probably get us a shit ton of attention.”

Still nothing. You don’t even crack a smile, your brush moving methodically as you blend shades of red and brown into his skin. The silence stretches, heavy and uncomfortable.

Chan leans back in his chair, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the table as he studies you. He doesn’t say anything, but his dark eyes flicker with concern, his lips pressed into a thin line.

When you finish Jisung’s arm, you finally glance up, just to grab another tool, before quickly averting your gaze again. “Switching to facial injuries,” you mumble, turning toward Chan without waiting for a response.

Chan shifts in his chair slightly, his posture relaxing as he nods. “Go ahead.”

You step closer, your movements still stiff as you start creating a gash on his cheekbone. Your hands remain steady, but your avoidance is glaringly obvious. You don’t meet his eyes, even when you have to angle his face toward the light. Instead, you keep your focus strictly on your work, avoiding any interaction.

Jisung leans his chin on his hand, watching you carefully. “You know, we’re here, right?” he says softly, his usual playful tone replaced with genuine concern.

Your hand falters slightly, but you quickly recover, your expression unreadable. “I know,” you mutter, still not looking at either of them.

Chan tilts his head as you add depth to the injury, his voice low and steady. “You don’t have to say what’s bothering you if you’re not ready. But you can. We’re not going anywhere.”

Your hands are trembling so violently now that you can barely hold the brush. The classroom feels too loud, too bright, too crowded, like the walls are closing in around you. The edges of your vision blur as you inhale sharply, your breaths coming too fast and too shallow.

“I- Excuse me,” you manage to choke out, your voice trembling as much as your hands.

Without waiting for a response, you push back from the table, nearly knocking over your chair in your haste to leave. You don’t even think to grab your tote bag or kit as you rush out the door, the classroom’s noise fading into an overwhelming silence.

Chan and Jisung are on their feet immediately, exchanging a single, knowing look. They don’t need to speak to understand what’s happening. Jisung recognizes the signs, he’s been there too many times himself, and Chan has seen this far too often when helping Jisung through his panic attacks.

“We’re going after her,” Jisung says, already heading for the door.

Chan nods as he follows. “Of course.”

They move quickly through the hallway, scanning for any sign of you. It doesn’t take long for Jisung to notice the slightly ajar door to the empty classroom they’d taken you to before. He pushes it open gently, the hinges creaking faintly, and the sight inside makes both of them freeze.

You’re crouched down near the far wall, your head in your hands as you tug on your hair with trembling fingers. Your whole body is trembling, and your breaths come in short, ragged gasps that hitch and catch painfully in your throat. It’s clear you’re spiralling fast.

Jisung and Chan exchange another glance, unspoken understanding passing between them. Chan steps forward first, closing the door quietly behind them while Jisung pulls the blinds down to block out the outside world. They’re careful, their movements measured and deliberate, as if any sudden motion might make things worse.

Jisung crouches down in front of you, his voice soft but steady. “Hey, what do you need? I know it’s hard to answer right now, but I’ve been here before. For me, a hug helps, a tight one. It compresses my nervous system and calms me down. You’ll fight it at first, but it’s just me and Chan. You’re safe with us, okay?”

You nod faintly, your fingers twitching as you try to loosen your grip on your hair. Your breaths are still shallow, but you’re trying, and Jisung can see it in the way your shoulders rise and fall unevenly.

“Good,” Jisung says gently, shifting to sit behind you. He carefully takes your hands, pulling them away from your hair and holding them in his own for a moment before guiding your body to rest against his. “I’m gonna hug you now, alright? Just let me help.”

He wraps his arms tightly around your chest, holding you firmly but not uncomfortably, his chin resting lightly against the top of your head. “Just me,” he whispers. “I’ve got you.”

Chan crouches in front of you, his eyes soft with concern. “My turn,” he says quietly, leaning in to wrap his arms around both you and Jisung, enveloping you in a warm, grounding embrace. You’re sandwiched between them, their bodies a protective barrier against the storm raging inside you.

“Just breathe,” Chan murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “We’re here. You’re safe.”

Jisung presses his cheek against the back of your head, his voice equally calm. “Deep breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Slow and steady.”

It’s hard. Your chest feels tight, and the panic claws at you, but their warmth and steady presence start to chip away at the edges of the fear. Jisung’s hold is grounding, his arms firm and secure, while Chan’s presence in front of you feels like a shield against the world.

“You’re doing so good,” Jisung says softly, his fingers lightly brushing against your forearms. “Just keep going. We’ve got you.”

Chan’s hands rub gentle circles on your back, his movements synchronized with Jisung’s reassurances. “That’s it. Keep going. One breath at a time.”

Slowly, the tension in your body begins to ease. Your breaths become a little less ragged, a little more controlled. The trembling subsides bit by bit, though your body still feels exhausted from the panic.

“You’re okay,” Jisung whispers, his voice soft as he rests his forehead against the back of your head. “You’re safe. We’ve got you.”

Chan pulls back slightly to meet your eyes, his hands still resting gently on your shoulders. “Better?” he asks, his voice warm and patient.

You nod weakly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah. Thank you.”

Jisung presses a light, reassuring kiss to the top of your head before helping you sit up straighter. “No need to thank us. We’re here for you. Always.”

“Want to talk about why you’re an anxious bundle of nerves today?” Chan asks gently, his eyes locked on yours. There’s no judgment in his tone, just patience and concern.

You hesitate for a moment, chewing on your bottom lip, but the warmth of their presence gives you enough courage to speak. Once you start, though, the words spill out in a frantic, barely coherent rush.

“It’s—it’s Minho,” you stammer, your voice shaky and fast. “He said you two like me, and not just like me, like like me like me, and then he said something about polyamory and a three-way relationship, and I-look, I can’t do that. I don’t want to come between you two, you’re perfect together, and I don’t even know how to be in a regular relationship, let alone something like that! I mean, I’m definitely not relationship material. I overthink everything-”

“Wait, wait, slow down,” Chan says, his lips twitching in an effort to suppress a smile as he tries to keep up with your rapid-fire rambling.

Jisung giggles, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Silly girl,” he says, his tone playful and affectionate. “You wouldn’t be coming between us. There’d be three of us in the relationship. That’s kind of the point.”

You pause, your brain short-circuiting at the simplicity of his words. “I… what?”

Jisung squeezes you tighter, his grin widening. “Three of us. Not you versus me or Chan. All of us together. Team effort.”

“Exactly,” Chan chimes in, his voice steady and calm. He leans in slightly, his dark eyes warm as they meet yours. “Tell you what. Jisung and I will take you on one date. Just one. No pressure, no expectations. If you decide polyamory isn’t for you, we’ll stay just friends. No hard feelings.”

You blink at them, your heart racing as you try to process everything. “One date?” you echo, your voice almost disbelieving.

“One date,” Chan confirms, his lips curving into a soft smile. “Just to see how it feels. No strings attached.”

Jisung nods eagerly. “And if it’s not your thing, that’s fine. We still get to hang out with you and be your friends, which is already pretty fucking great.”

You look between them, the sincerity in their expressions making your chest tighten in a way that’s equal parts terrifying and comforting. Finally, you nod, the tension in your shoulders easing just slightly. “Okay. One date.”

Jisung cheers softly, his arms tightening around you. “Yes! I’m calling this a win.”

Chan chuckles, resting a hand on Jisung’s back as he looks at you. “Thank you for trusting us.”

As you sit there, sandwiched between them, the panic that had consumed you earlier feels like it’s beginning to fade, replaced by a tentative sense of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this could work.

The low rumble of a sleek black convertible echoes through the quiet street as Chan pulls up outside your apartment building, the hood already down. The car gleams under the dim glow of the streetlights, a perfect reflection of its owner’s effortless confidence. Jisung sits in the backseat, his cropped leather blazer catching the light as he leans against the side of the car, a casual grin on his face.

Chan, in black trousers and boots with a white half-buttoned shirt over a black turtleneck, rests one arm on the steering wheel as he glances up at your building. He checks the time briefly before looking at Jisung. “You think Minho’s keeping Felix distracted long enough?”

Jisung snickers, adjusting his silver chain. “Please. If anyone can manage Felix, it’s Minho. The man dragged him to a love hotel. They’re probably too busy fucking to even think about anything else right now.”

The sound of the building’s front door opening pulls both their attention, and their conversation stops. You step outside, your beige flares swishing slightly with each step, white sneakers bright against the pavement. Your white bandeau crop top hugs your figure, and your half-up, half-down hair style gives you a polished but relaxed look, the little bun at the back bouncing slightly as you walk.

Jisung’s grin widens as he scrambles out of the backseat and around to the sidewalk, opening the door for you with a dramatic bow. “Your chariot awaits, milady.”

“Thank you, kind sir,” you reply with a teasing smile, sliding into the backseat next to him. Your movements are smooth, but there’s a flicker of nervous energy in your hands as you buckle in.

Chan glances over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You like fast driving?”

You nod, settling into your seat. “Yeah, why not?”

Chan doesn’t need any more encouragement. He slams his foot on the gas, and the car roars to life, speeding down the street. The wind whips through your hair, and your laughter spills out, unrestrained and genuine. You throw your hands up, tipping your head back as the city lights blur into streaks of colour.

Jisung wraps an arm around your shoulders, his touch light enough to give you space to pull away if you want. Instead, you lean into him, your laughter bubbling over as the wind rushes past. Chan watches the two of you through the rearview mirror, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he navigates the empty streets with ease.

“Disclaimer,” you say between giggles, “I had an edible brownie to help my anxiety, so I’m kind of stoned right now.”

Jisung’s eyes widen with delight. “Oh my God. When I thought you couldn’t get any hotter.” He nudges Chan with his free hand. “She’s one of us, Chan! A stoner!”

Chan snorts, his eyes flicking to the mirror again. “I’m sober, don’t worry. I wouldn’t drive stoned.”

“Obviously,” Jisung says, grinning. “I had a joint earlier, though, so we’re vibing, Y/N. You and me? Stoner solidarity.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Good to know I’m in good company.”

Chan hums thoughtfully. “I will steal one of those brownies later, though, if you’re offering.”

“Sure,” you say easily, your gaze softening. “I’ve seen your place already. You can come over and meet my dog. He’s a golden retriever. His name’s Simba.”

“Dream woman,” Chan says, his voice warm and genuine. “Dog lover, brownie maker, and she likes fast cars. What’s not to love?”

You laugh again, feeling the edges of your nerves melt away in the company of their easy banter. The car speeds forward into the night, the three of you riding the high of the moment, figuratively and, in your case, literally. It feels like freedom, like something new and exciting, and for once, you’re more eager than anxious about what comes next.

The sleek black convertible pulls up to the brightly lit bowling alley, its neon sign casting a kaleidoscope of colours on the pavement. Jisung hops out first, his black trousers swishing as he moves, and he offers you a hand with a playful grin, and you take it, sliding out of the car.

Before you can step away, Jisung wraps an arm around your waist, his fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of your beige flares. “You ready for this?” he asks, his tone warm and teasing.

You glance at him, your nerves bubbling up again, but before you can respond, you feel Chan’s gaze on you. His dark eyes are soft but questioning, waiting for permission. You nod shyly, and he steps closer, draping his arm over your shoulders with a casual ease that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Now we’re ready,” Chan says with a small smirk, steering you toward the entrance as Jisung keeps his arm snugly around your waist.

The trio walks through the glass doors, greeted by the bustling atmosphere of the bowling alley. The place smells like popcorn and pizza, and the sound of bowling balls crashing into pins echoes around you. Chan leads the way to the counter, where a guy in a red-and-white uniform greets him with a friendly smile.

“Got a booking under Bang,” Chan says smoothly, his tone low and confident.

The employee nods, checking the screen and handing him a set of shoes. Meanwhile, Jisung leans closer to you, his voice conspiratorial. “Must be nice, huh?”

You giggle, glancing at Chan as he talks to the guy like it’s second nature. “I’d be half passed out by this point talking to another human like that.”

Jisung snorts, his laugh low and infectious. “Right? Meanwhile, Mr. Smooth over here acts like he owns the place.”

Chan turns back to you both, raising an eyebrow. “You two gossiping about me?”

“Always,” Jisung replies without missing a beat, his grin cheeky as Chan rolls his eyes and leads you down a side hallway.

At the end of the hallway is a door marked Private Lane. Chan opens it with a flourish, stepping aside to let you and Jisung walk in first. The private lane is sleek and modern, with plush seating and mood lighting that makes it feel more like a lounge than a bowling alley.

“You’ve outdone yourself, Mr. Smooth,” Jisung says, plopping onto the couch with a dramatic sigh.

Chan ignores him, instead turning his attention to you. “So, have you ever bowled before?”

You hesitate for a split second before shaking your head. “No,” you say, your voice soft.

Chan quirks an eyebrow, and Jisung’s grin widens. “Never?” Chan asks, his tone somewhere between disbelief and amusement.

“Nope,” you lie smoothly, hoping they won’t catch on.

“Well then,” Chan says, grabbing a bowling ball from the rack and holding it out to you, “we’ll have to teach you.”

“Absolutely,” Jisung chimes in, standing up and grabbing another ball. He rests it on his hip as he walks over to you. “This is gonna be fun.”

You smile, biting back your nerves as they both step closer, their expressions eager and intent. You might not be a complete novice at bowling, but right now, the idea of their hands guiding yours and their attention entirely on you feels worth a little white lie.

Chan rolls up his sleeves and grabs a bowling ball from the rack, his silver chain catching the light as he steps to the lane. “Alright, Y/N,” he says, holding the ball out to you. “Let’s start simple. Just grip it here and here.”

You take the ball, the weight of it heavier than you expected, and Chan steps behind you, close but not overwhelming. His hands rest lightly on your elbows as he adjusts your stance. “Feet shoulder-width apart. Bend your knees a little.”

Jisung lounges on the nearby couch, a smug grin on his face. “Don’t drop it on your foot.”

“Helpful,” Chan mutters, shooting him a look before turning back to you. “Ignore him. Now, swing it back gently, then forward. Let it roll off your fingers when it feels right.”

His voice is low and patient, and you nod, following his instructions. With Chan’s hands steadying your arms, you swing the ball forward. It rolls down the lane with a satisfying thud, wobbling slightly before knocking over a few pins.

“Not bad,” Chan says, his voice warm with approval. “Let’s try that again.”

The game continues, and for the first few rounds, either Chan or Jisung is always there, standing behind you, guiding your movements. Jisung’s approach is less methodical than Chan’s, he’s more playful, cracking jokes and deliberately leaning close enough to make you laugh as he adjusts your grip.

“Alright, superstar,” Jisung says during your next turn, resting his chin on your shoulder for a moment as he lines up the shot with you. “This time, aim for the left side. Trust me.”

You roll your eyes but follow his advice, and the ball takes out a solid chunk of pins. Jisung cheers loudly, throwing his hands up like you’ve just won a championship. “See? I’m a genius!”

Chan laughs from his spot on the couch, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “You’re ridiculous.”

The real chaos begins each time it’s Jisung’s turn. Instead of bowling normally, he walks up to the lane, turns his back to the pins, and bends over, rolling the ball between his legs. It glides perfectly down the centre of the lane, knocking down every pin in a clean strike.

“Fuck yeah!” Jisung yells, spinning around with his arms raised in victory. “Did you see that?”

“That shouldn’t even count,” Chan calls out, shaking his head in disbelief. “You didn’t even look!”

Jisung shrugs dramatically, grabbing another ball. “Jealousy isn’t a good look on you.”

His next turn, he lies flat on his stomach at the start of the lane, pushing the ball forward with both hands. Once again, it rolls perfectly down the lane and crashes into the pins, scattering them everywhere.

“This is bullshit,” Chan mutters, standing up and grabbing a ball. “There’s no way you’re this lucky.”

“It’s not luck!” Jisung insists, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s raw talent.”

You can’t stop laughing, your sides aching as Jisung continues his streak of absurd bowling techniques. He tries spinning the ball while crouched like a frog, rolling it while hopping backwards, and even attempting to launch it from his lap while sitting. Somehow, every ridiculous method he tries results in a strike.

“You’re unbelievable,” you say, shaking your head as you watch him collapse onto the couch, arms raised in mock exhaustion.

“Unbelievably good,” Jisung corrects, winking at you.

“Annoying is more like it,” Chan quips, his smirk softening the words.

The second game kicks off, and you decide it’s time to step up. Chan and Jisung exchange a glance as you grab a ball, their eyebrows raised in mild surprise.

“You got this,” Chan says, leaning casually against the scoring console.

Jisung smirks from where he’s sprawled on the couch, his silver rings glinting as he gestures toward the lane. “Show us what you’ve learned, superstar.”

You roll your eyes but can’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. With confidence, you line up your shot, swing the ball back, and release it. It glides perfectly down the lane, straight into the pins, scattering them in a deafening crash. A clean strike.

The room falls silent for a split second before Jisung shoots up from the couch, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “We’ve been fucking hustled!”

You turn to him, feigning innocence as you shrug. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Jisung’s jaw drops dramatically. “Oh, you’re good. Real good. You just wanted us to feel you up, didn’t you?”

You duck your head, biting your lip to hide the shy smile that betrays you and Chan laughs as he steps forward, ruffling Jisung’s hair as he passes. “Oh, she did,” he says, his voice warm and teasing. “But don’t tease her too much, Ji. Look, you’ve made her all shy.”

Jisung grins, unbothered, and strides up behind you. Before you can step away, he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you against him. “Be honest,” he murmurs near your ear, his voice low enough that only you can hear. “You’ve bowled before, haven’t you?”

You nod once, still too shy to speak, and his nose brushes lightly against the side of your neck as he chuckles. “Little liar,” he whispers, his tone playful and affectionate.

Chan takes his turn at the lane, his throw smooth and precise, though he leaves two pins standing. He shakes his head as he turns back toward you, grinning as Jisung presses a kiss to the top of your head before letting you go.

While Chan preps for his spare, Jisung leans over to the control pad on the table and presses a few buttons. “You drink?” he asks, glancing at you.

You tilt your head curiously. “They have cocktails?”

Jisung nods, scrolling through the menu on the screen. “Yep. What’s your poison?”

You hum thoughtfully, tapping your lip as you consider. “Hmm. Sex on the Beach.”

Jisung freezes for half a second before turning to you with a grin so wicked it makes your heart skip. “We could have sex on the bowling lane.”

Your jaw drops as you stare at him in shock, your eyes wide. “Jisung!”

He bursts out laughing, his arms wrapping around you again as he pulls you into a tight hug. “I’m kidding! You’re so easy to mess with, it’s adorable.”

You huff, though you can’t fight the laugh bubbling up as you swat his arm. “You’re impossible.”

“And you like it,” he quips, his grin softening as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

Chan returns to the table, his spare successfully picked up, and raises an eyebrow at the two of you. “What’d I miss?”

“Nothing,” you say quickly, shooting Jisung a look as he chuckles under his breath.

“Sure,” Chan says, his eyes narrowing slightly but the smile on his lips giving him away. “Whatever you say.”

Jisung, still grinning, reaches for the pad to confirm the drink order, adding a mock toast under his breath. “To bowling hustlers and adorable liars.”

The sleek convertible pulls up in front of your apartment building, its engine purring softly before Chan cuts it off. The night air is cool, brushing against your skin as you step out of the car andJisung hops out after you, his cropped leather blazer catching the streetlight as he stretches.

“This is the part where we find out if you’re a hoarder or if you’ve got some hidden skeletons in your closet,” he teases, falling into step beside you.

Chan chuckles, locking the car as he joins you both. “Don’t scare her off, Ji.”

You lead them up the stairs, your sneakers tapping lightly against the concrete as the three of you climb to your floor. At your door, you unlock it with a faint click and push it open, flipping on the lights. The warm, lived-in space comes into view, shelves lined with books and figurines, Attack on Titan posters framing one wall, and a collection of Harry Potter merch spread across various surfaces.

Jisung steps in first, his eyes immediately scanning the room. His mouth falls open slightly as he takes in the decor. “Anime and Harry Potter?” he says, his voice filled with awe. He turns to you with a playful grin. “You’ve officially made me fall in love.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head as you kick off your shoes. “It’s not that impressive.”

“It’s fucking heaven,” Jisung declares, his eyes darting from the Levi Ackerman figurine on your shelf to the Hufflepuff throw blanket draped over your couch.

Chan is about to respond when the soft patter of paws echoes through the apartment. Simba, your golden retriever, pads out from the hallway, his tail wagging lazily as he stops in front of Chan, sniffing curiously.

“Oh my God,” Chan breathes, crouching down immediately to pet the dog. His hand brushes over Simba’s soft fur, his face lighting up with pure joy. “He's adorable"

You watch Chan coo at Simba, scratching behind his ears. The dog leans into his touch, clearly pleased.

Jisung flops onto your couch, letting out a dramatic sigh and you sit next to him. “No, seriously. This apartment is heaven. Anime, Harry Potter, and now a golden retriever?” He looks at you, his grin softening into something more genuine. “You’re perfect.”

Before you can respond, Jisung leans forward and presses a quick kiss to your lips. His touch is fleeting, like he’s testing the waters, and his eyes widen immediately as he pulls back. “Uh, shit, sorry, I-”

You cut him off by leaning in and kissing him again, your hands lightly brushing against his chest. His surprise melts into a quiet groan as he deepens the kiss, his fingers tangling gently in your hair while his other hand finds its way to the small of your back.

Behind you, Chan stands up slowly, his dark eyes locked on the two of you. There’s a heat in his gaze, his tongue swiping over his lower lip as he watches, his hands slipping casually into his pockets.

Jisung pulls away just enough to look into your eyes, his breath warm against your lips. “You’re dangerous, you know that?” he murmurs, a grin playing at the edges of his mouth.

“Only to you,” you tease, your voice barely above a whisper.

Chan steps forward, his boots clicking softly against the floor before he leans down and cups your face in his hands. His touch is gentle but firm as he tilts your chin up, his eyes searching yours for permission.

When you don’t pull away, he leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s slower, deeper, and filled with intent. His thumbs brush against your jawline as he holds you steady, the kiss sending a shiver down your spine.

As Chan kisses you, Jisung doesn’t move far. Instead, he wraps his arms around you from behind, his lips finding the curve of your neck. He presses a series of soft, lingering kisses along your skin, his breath warm and his touch featherlight.

Chan pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he glances at Jisung over your shoulder. “You good back there?” he asks, his voice rough with a mix of humor and something darker.

Jisung grins against your neck, his hands tightening around your waist. “Oh, I’m very good,” he replies, his voice muffled as he presses another kiss to your neck.

Chan brushes his thumb gently against your cheek, his gaze steady and soft despite the heat simmering in his dark eyes. “If you don’t want to go any further, let us know,” he says quietly, his voice low and reassuring. “There’s no pressure.”

You take a deep breath, the tension in your shoulders easing at his words. Meeting his gaze, you manage a small, shy smile. “My bedroom is the door at the end of the hall.”

A flicker of surprise crosses Chan’s face before it’s replaced with a warm, knowing smile. He takes your hand, his grip firm but careful, and starts leading you toward the hallway. Behind you, Jisung remains attached to your back, his arms draped loosely around your waist as he follows your movements step for step.

The short walk feels longer than it is, your heart racing with anticipation. When you reach the door, Chan opens it for you, stepping inside first to take in the space before turning back to you and Jisung. The room is cosy and well-kept, the bed neatly made with soft, neutral tones, and fairy lights strung up around the walls giving it a warm glow.

Jisung’s eyes sparkle with excitement as he steps inside, still clinging to you. “Oooh! I get to dom! I haven’t done that in a while. Chan doesn’t let me dom him!”

You let out a shy giggle as he twirls a strand of your hair around his finger. “Is that so?”

Chan snorts, closing the door behind him. “That’s because you’re a menace, Ji.”

“And you love it,” Jisung retorts, grinning as he tugs lightly on the strand of hair before letting it fall back into place.

Chan steps closer, his gaze dropping to meet yours, his voice taking on a teasing edge. “You ready for all other men to be ruined for you?”

You nod, biting your lip nervously but unable to suppress the small, eager smile that tugs at your mouth.

Jisung’s grin softens as he gently cups your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “You know this isn’t just a one-time thing, right?” His voice is quieter now, almost tentative, as if he needs to be sure.

You nod again, your hands lightly resting on his chest. “I know.”

Something shifts in Jisung’s expression, a mix of relief and exhilaration, before he leans in and kisses you, his lips warm and eager against yours. His hands slide down to your waist, gripping you firmly as he deepens the kiss. In one swift motion, he lifts you effortlessly, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as he presses you back against the wall.

Chan steps closer, his hands brushing against Jisung’s shoulders as he tilts his head to kiss the side of Jisung’s neck. His lips trail up slowly, leaving warm, open-mouthed kisses along Jisung’s skin, making him shiver slightly even as he keeps his focus on you.

Jisung pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his breathing uneven but his grin still intact. “Ready for this, baby?”

You nod, your hands curling around the back of his neck as your chest presses against his. With both of them here, surrounding you with their attention and warmth, you’ve never felt safer or more wanted.

Three Months Later

The Alpha Phi frat house is as chaotic as ever, laughter and the faint hum of music filling the space as you step inside with Chan and Jisung. You’re wearing black cargo trousers, a lilac cropped lace camisole, and black Converse. Your hair is clipped up messily, stray strands framing your face, and your makeup is flawless as usual.

Jisung struts beside you, his black baggy jeans slung low enough to reveal the waistband of his black boxers. His cropped black long-sleeved top and silver chain make him look effortlessly edgy, and Chan, on your other side, is the perfect counterpoint with his black cargo trousers, sleek black t-shirt, leather jacket, and matching chain.

The three of you are greeted by the sight of Minho lounging on the couch with Felix perched in his lap, their positions far too cosy for anything innocent. Felix is giggling about something, his blonde hair tousled as Minho’s arms keep him firmly in place.

“What’s going on?” Felix asks, his bright eyes darting between the three of you as you hesitate near the doorway. There’s a curious tilt to his head, but his smile is easy and warm.

You open your mouth to speak but quickly close it again, glancing at Minho with wide eyes. At the same time, Jisung nudges Chan, who scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. Minho’s grip tightens on Felix’s waist as if bracing himself for impact. His knowing smirk is the only indication that he’s been expecting this moment for weeks.

Felix frowns slightly, leaning back against Minho. “I feel like I’m missing something.”

“Uh, yeah,” Jisung says, dragging out the words with a nervous laugh. “You could say that.”

Before Felix can ask anything else, you and Jisung simultaneously push Chan forward, using him as a shield as you step behind him. “You tell him,” Jisung whispers urgently, peeking over Chan’s shoulder.

Chan sighs, giving both of you a side-eye before turning to Felix. “Okay. Felix,” he starts, his tone careful but firm. “You know Jisung and I are together, right?”

Felix blinks, his expression turning incredulous. “Obviously. I’ve heard you two fuck in every part of the house.”

Chan pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath before continuing. “Right. Well, we added a third to our relationship.”

Felix’s face lights up with excitement. “That’s great! Who is it?!”

Minho stares at Felix in disbelief, his lips parting slightly before he mutters, “Oh, Lix. You’re so pretty. So, so pretty.”

Jisung, still partially hidden behind Chan, snickers. “But dumb. Even compared to me.”

Felix’s head snaps toward Minho, his frown deepening. “Well?! Who is it?”

Minho sighs, rolling his eyes like he’s explaining something painfully obvious. “It’s Y/N.”

Felix tilts his head further, the frown deepening into confusion. “My sister Y/N?”

Chan, deadpan, replies, “No, another Y/N on campus.”

Felix’s eyes widen, looking between all of you. “Really?”

Minho groans, his hand dragging down his face. “So, so pretty.”

Everyone goes quiet, waiting for Felix to piece it together. Jisung and you peek over Chan’s shoulders, your expressions nervous but slightly amused as you watch the gears turning in Felix’s brain.

But nothing happens. Felix’s brow furrows, his mouth opening and closing like he’s about to speak but can’t find the words. Minho watches him for another few seconds before shaking his head in resignation.

“It’s not computing, is it?” Jisung whispers to you, his voice barely audible as he stifles a laugh.

You shake your head, biting your lip to hold back your own giggles. “Not at all.”

Felix finally bursts out, “Wait, so you’re telling me-”

Everyone leans in slightly, hopeful.

“-you, Jisung and Y/N are… like, all three of you?” His eyes dart between you, Jisung, and Chan, still visibly processing.

Minho buries his face in Felix’s shoulder with a groan. “Yes, baby. Yes, that’s exactly what we’ve been saying. God, you’re gorgeous, but your brain…”

Felix’s eyes narrow at Minho’s tone. “Shut up. I get it. I’m just surprised!” He turns to you, his voice higher-pitched now. “You? Really?”

Jisung pats Chan on the back. “We might be here a while.”

It’s been twenty minutes, and Felix is still sitting in Minho’s lap, staring blankly at the floor. His mouth occasionally opens as if he’s about to say something, only to snap shut again. Meanwhile, you and Jisung remain firmly behind Chan, who’s started tapping his foot against the hardwood floor, his arms crossed as his patience wears thin.

Minho gently strokes Felix’s arm, his voice soft but laced with teasing. “I know your little brain has processed it by now, baby. Come on, some emotion. Anything. You can do it.”

Felix blinks a few times before his gaze slowly shifts to you, his expression finally breaking out of the fog of shock. “Wait, wait, wait,” he says, his tone incredulous as he points at you. “You’ve never had a serious boyfriend in your life. Ever. Just random hookups! And now you come back with two boyfriends?”

Your eyes widen, and you glance at Jisung, who’s biting his lip to keep from laughing. Chan sighs heavily but stays silent as Felix continues his rant.

“What the fuck is this bullshittery?” Felix exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. “It took me twenty fucking years to lock down one man! One! She meets these guys and bam! Two boyfriends! Just like that! The universe is sexist and homophobic!”

Jisung finally bursts out laughing, clutching his stomach as he leans on Chan for support. “It wasn’t like bam!” he protests between giggles. “There was a buildup, okay? Like two months of it. And now we’ve been happily dating for three months.”

Felix’s head snaps toward him, his jaw dropping. “Three months?! How the fuck did I not notice?”

Minho, who’s been quietly holding back his own laughter, smirks. “You didn’t notice because I was deployed as your distraction.” He leans closer to Felix’s ear, his voice dropping slightly. “Every time Chan and Jisung left to see Y/N, I railed you into next week.”

Felix makes a choking noise, his cheeks going bright red. “Minho!”

Minho grins shamelessly, brushing a strand of Felix’s hair back. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Felix glares at him for a moment before sighing dramatically and turning back to you, Jisung, and Chan. He points at you, his expression serious. “Okay! Fine! But if either of you hurt her,” he says, directing his attention to Jisung and Chan, ���I did taekwondo for twelve years, and I’ll fuck you up.”

Jisung salutes him, his grin wide. “Noted.”

Chan nods solemnly. “Fair warning. Got it.”

Felix leans back against Minho, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Now, Minho, take me somewhere where I can cry, scream, and throw up to process this bullshit. Because now I have the knowledge that my friends are Eiffel towering my sister!”

He gags dramatically, covering his face with both hands as Minho finally loses his composure and laughs openly. “Alright, baby,” Minho says, standing up and hoisting Felix with him like he weighs nothing. “Let’s get you somewhere private to let it all out.”

As Minho carries Felix toward the stairs, Felix shoots you one last look, his hand flailing in mock accusation. “This isn’t over, Y/N! I need therapy!”

As Felix and Minho disappear up the stairs, you let out a heavy sigh. “Booze,” you say firmly, your tone decisive. “I need booze.”

Jisung perks up immediately, grinning like the devil himself. “The kitchen is more of a bar than a place we store food. Let’s go.” He takes your hand, leading you toward the kitchen as Chan follows, shaking his head fondly. “And hey, if you’re nice, I’ll roll us some joints.”

You raise an eyebrow at him as you step into the spacious but chaotic kitchen. “Am I not always nice?”

Jisung freezes for a second before turning to you with wide eyes and an apologetic grin. “Kidding! Kidding, baby!” He tugs you closer and presses a quick kiss to your temple. “Tell you what, we can even use my cherry papers.”

That earns a smile from you, the edges of your tension softening. “Deal.”

Chan rolls his eyes, already moving toward the counter to pull down glasses. “You two are impossible,” he mutters, but there’s no bite to his words.

Jisung skips over to a cupboard and pulls out a tin labelled Jisung’s Shit in bold, slightly crooked letters. He pops it open on the counter, revealing a neatly arranged collection of rolling papers, a grinder, and a stash that smells distinctly skunky and sweet. “What’ll it be?” he asks over his shoulder, wiggling his eyebrows. “Straight joints, spliffs, or my famous two-layer combo?”

“Famous?” Chan interjects as he pours three hefty servings of whiskey into the glasses. “Last time you made that, you couldn’t get off the couch for six hours.”

“Which means it worked,” Jisung retorts, sticking his tongue out before turning back to you. “Your call, baby.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head as you lean against the counter. “Keep it simple tonight.”

Jisung mock-salutes you, grabbing the papers and his grinder with an exaggerated flourish. As he works, Chan slides a glass into your hand, his own already in his other. “Here,” he says, his tone warm.

You take a sip, the burn of the whiskey grounding you almost immediately. Jisung hums softly to himself as he rolls, his hands deft and practised. It’s a strangely comforting sight, the three of you falling into this rhythm together, the chaos of earlier fading into the background.

Jisung finishes quickly, holding up the joint with a grin. “And voilà. Cherry perfection.” He lights it with a flourish, taking a quick puff before passing it to you.

You take it carefully, the sweet smoke curling into the air as you take a slow, cautious drag. The tension in your chest eases a little more, replaced by a warmth that’s equal parts the whiskey, the weed, and the presence of the two men beside you.

Chan clinks his glass against yours, his smile soft but teasing. “So, what’s the verdict? Does this make up for your brother’s meltdown?”

You snort, shaking your head. “It helps. He’s going to be a drama queen about this for weeks, though.”

Jisung leans against your side, draping an arm over your shoulders. “Good thing you’ve got us, huh? We’ll keep you sane.”

“You say that like you two aren’t half my stress,” you tease, earning a loud laugh from both of them.

As the night wears on, the three of you settle into easy conversation, the kitchen filled with laughter and the faint haze of smoke. It’s not perfect, and the chaos of the day still lingers at the edges, but for now, it feels enough. You’re surrounded by warmth, care, and a sense of belonging that you hadn’t expected to find but now that you have it, you’re not letting it go.

General Taglist: @nightmarenyxx

Requested By: @omgsquee2001

[bbydoll18xx]

Spike Me, Baby, One More Time

Paige Bueckers x fem!volleyball player

Based on this request: Can I request like fem! Volleyball player reader x paige? Like Paige and the team getting so excited for the volleyball game and watching her star vball girlfriend play? And even like a post game party or just something cute and domestic!! Smut or not smut, idc!!! Thank you I love your writing!!!

Themes: some suggestiveness, fluff, proud!Paige

Word Count: 1.2k

---------------------------------------------------------------

“Guys, hurry the fuck up. The game is starting soon,” Paige grits out impatiently. She is gesturing wildly toward the doors of the arena, where you were soon playing. Paige Bueckers generally did not care much about being early to things, but she did not want to miss a single second of watching you destroy your opponents. Your mild disposition was shattered on the volleyball court, making you absolutely ruthless. 

And Paige fucking loved it. 

She and several of UCONN’s women’s basketball team were coming to your game, and you were looking forward to seeing their obnoxious signs and hearing their loud hoots of support. Your heart skipped a beat at the thought. You had a family in Paige and her teammates, and just as you loved to support them, the feeling was mutual. 

As you step out onto the court, taking a deep breath to quell the nervous energy bubbling up inside your chest, you hear several people over the roar of the crowd. Craning your head toward the bellows, you see Paige, standing beside KK and Ice. They were jumping, waving their arms in a way that had bystanders rolling their eyes in annoyance. A grin emerges on your face, and all the pre-game anxiety vanishes. 

The game begins, and you’re locked in. Similarly to how you are with Paige, the world fades away into nothingness. Nothing else exists except you, the ball, and the overwhelming desire to win. 

A few times throughout the game, you lock eyes with Paige, feeling her encouragement, and the gratification hits you like a drug, fueling you through the end. The game ends with you spiking the ball ferociously, and the stadium erupts in deafening cheers as the ball slams against the floor. 

You yell out ecstatically, jumping into the arms of your teammates and spinning in the confetti that was falling. Life felt pretty fuckin’ good. 

Once you are changed out of your sweaty uniform, you leap out of the locker room, nearly running straight into Paige. 

“Stalker, much?” You tease, a giant smirk plastered on your face.

“Duh, I’m your biggest fan, baby,” Paige quips, and she was wearing an equally smug look.

“For real, though. Thank you guys for coming. Means a lot,” You beam, looking up between your blonde girlfriend and the two younger girls standing at her side. 

“Be for real. Like we would miss it!” KK declares solemnly, Ice nodding her head in agreement. 

“I think my roommates are throwing a celebratory party in our apartment. You guys down?” You ask, already knowing their answers. No one was going to turn down free alcohol and a chance to be a little crazy. 

~

Paige was fucking plastered. And you were loving it. So was every other person crammed into your apartment for the party. 

“Babyyy, give me a kiss. I love you so much,” Paige whines, smushing her lips up in a dramatic pout. You giggle, your cheeks pink between the alcohol and your girlfriend’s declarations of love. You peck her on the lips to appease her, but she pulls you in by the waist, anchoring your mouth to hers.

The alcohol in your veins, paired with the delicious taste of victory, created an irresistible desire to just let go. Climbing further onto Paige’s lap, you can feel the muscles of her thighs tense under you, and you let out a quiet moan into the slick heat of her mouth. No one hears it except for Paige, and it goes straight between her legs. 

“Whoa, y’all might wanna cool it on the PDA,” you hear over the blasting of the music. You pull away from Paige to see Ice standing over the two of you with a slightly repulsed expression covering her face. You’d think she would be used to the two of you by now, but you know she was only being protective. 

“Just proud of my girl,” Paige retorts, looking at you on her lap with a fond smile. A new wave of butterflies erupts in your belly, and you attempt to scooch closer into her. Ignoring everyone around you once more, including your own friends, you lean back into her and connect your lips again in a passionate embrace. 

You tug at her blonde locks, for once free from the confines of her usual updos and braids, and Paige lets out a groan at the sensation. Your head feels fuzzy from the lustful sounds, suddenly wanting all the people to leave so you could enjoy your girlfriend fully. 

“Wanna go back to yours?” You mumble in her ear, quickly starting to feel desperate. 

Paige pulls back, sighing with a regretful look on her face. “Course I do. But we should stay. I miss my old teammates, and you will, too.”

The honesty was surprising, but it made you realize that you had all the time in the world to kiss Paige.

“Fine,” you whine, somewhat childishly. “But as soon as all these people leave, I’m having my way with you.”

“Good,” Paige mutters. Her desire for you hadn’t waned, and she didn’t think it would. She could survive a few more hours of loud music and polite conversation before following you to your bedroom and fucking you into oblivion. 

And she did. Barely.

The rest of the evening, Paige watched you with such intensity. She was obsessed with every little thing about you. The way your nose scrunched when you laughed. The pink in your cheeks. And the way you licked your lips seductively in her direction after taking a drink from the cup in your hand. 

KK and Ice had left, and as the party began winding down, Paige grew more and more needy. While you were high off of the victory, she was high off of you. And it had been too long since her last hit. Showing an incredible amount of restraint, Paige hides behind her cup, watching you dance around in the center of the room. You make eye contact, from where she is sitting on the couch, and you don’t miss the ways her eyes darken. Her pupils are blown wide with lust, and her widespread legs are beckoning you to come take your rightful place in between them. 

You march over to her, plopping down on her lap once more, loudly stating that the party has ended. The last few stragglers, get the hint, and begin to move towards the door. With some help from your roommates/teammates, the apartment quickly clears out, leaving you with Paige and the soft pumping of whatever Drake song was seductively playing through the speakers. 

You gaze at her, lids heavy with desire, to see those blue eyes staring right back at you with equal intensity.

“Can you fuck me now, baby?” You whisper, your voice husky with want. 

Paige lets out a dark chuckle, and pulls you into her. “Only if you leave that jersey on for me.”

Your heart jumps into your throat. “Deal,” you affirm, pulling her towards your bedroom.

[koiiiji]

crybabies

summary ; Busan's 4 gangs heads know they always can hide behind someone's back...

author's note ; yaaay back from new year's weekends and have a lot of ideas (nobody said it will be fast to deliver it here(im lazy ass))

tw ; major spoilers for Busan arc under the line!!

you were at the center of it all, huge pileup of bodies, arms and heads! your arms wrapped around the younger guys from both Busan and Seoul, trying to hold them all in your protective embrace. Min Jihood leaned into your side, right on your breast, his exhausted face slowly melted into smug grin. his partner, Shin Arim, was there too, his head resting on your lap, while you pet his dark hair tim to time. Park Hyukjin had his arms crossed, not touching you, but sitting close, his stoic expression betraying the tiniest smile as your fingers ruffled his short hair. Hyun Sangjin clung to your other side tightly, nuzzling into your other breast. even Kang Jinchan, pretending to be aloof, leaned closer to your lap, just enough to let your hand brush his shoulder.

somehow even Allied guys had been drawn into your circle as well. the scene was a bizarre, even weird, mix of bruised egos and childlike vulnerability.

“see this?” you said, gesturing to the younger guys nestled around you, your arms extending protectively. your voice was warm as you looked at the group, but as you turned to adults it was a sharp and disapproving. “you underestimated them. all of them! you don’t even think that highly of them, do you? and yet, they fought, bled, and held their own without any of your help.” guys actively nodded their heads in agreement, snuggling closer into you.

Jinrang gang members discontentedly shifted from one foot to the other, refusing to look in your direction. and Jageyon honestly didn't remember how he end up there too, but his usual confidence faltered as he shifted uneasily under your fiery glare.

“they were out here risking their lives while you were…what? twiddling your thumbs? watching from the sidelines?” you continued, the anger in your voice sharp and cutting. “have you forgotten what Sonji used to say about younger ones?”

Jageyon opened his mouth to respond “well, i…”

“well, i,” you mimicked, “think of some better excuse, you half-baked Schumacher.” our voice dripping with sarcasm, as you kept comforting younger guys.

and this is when chaos started. guys from both Seoul and Busan, began poking their fingers toward the older ones, their teary eyes full of exaggerated complaints.

“yeah! where were you mr. Jageyon?!” Hyungseok whined, his voice taking on a rare childish tone as he leaned further into your side.

“they just left us to fight, noona” Shin muttered, his usual tough demeanor crumbling as he pouted slightly. “they think we are just kids and can't solve a problems!”

“it’s not fair,” Sangjin chimed in, his voice trembling for dramatic effect. “they think they are better than us!”

Min joined in too, sniffling as he glared up at you. “right!! noona, and now they just standing around, acting like they’re too good for us!!”

Hyukjin nodded solemnly, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “exactly. what kind of example are they setting?”

your arms tightened around the group, your hands moving to ruffle the nearest heads. “it’s okay, guys,” you cooed, your voice taking on a sisterly warmth. “they can’t say anything now. they know they messed up... making my favourite little boys do a dirty job, fighting each other...” you leaned closed to boys, but not breaking eye contact with older generation. “isn’t that right?”

Jinrang gang members looked visibly uncomfortable under your pointed gaze, slowly nodding. “yes, you are right noona....”

reference ;

[charles-leclerizz]

🏎️ ๋࣭ ⭑ cat-quette

🏁 Pairings : Max vertsappen X fem! Reader

🏁 Warnings : fluffy as hell, suggestive language and one suggestive scene.

🏁 Word Count : 2.7k words (2742 words)

🏁 Summary : Sometimes, a family of 4 needs just one more addition, so you and your boyfriend venture out to find the perfect new daughter

🏁 translations via radio comm below

🏁 credits : word dividers by @gigittamic

🏁 Music player : Winter blossom by Dept, Ashley blossom, nobody like you pat

“Come on Maxie, please” You draw at the syllable at the end of your plea, dancing in your spot in your shared kitchen, “Imagine it, you, me, jimmy, sassy and a third cat, we could name it, kibble or something.”

Max looked at you with a worried expression, one brow arched in questioning, “Kibble?” He continued to knead the bread dough in front of him, slamming his hands into the mixture that sat fluffy and aerated on your marble counter, “You just demonstrated why we can’t get a third cat, you’re gonna make it depressed in the first 2 days.”

“Now that’s mean.” You cross your arms over and harrumph, going over to the stove to stir the searing vegetables in the pan.

Out of the corner of your eye you see him wash his hands free of the dough that remained on his fingers before going back to the olive oil doused ball and placing it into a wooden bowl, he then laid a fresh white cloth over the dough and transferred it into the fridge for it to rise for about 40 minutes.

You then felt his presence behind you, then you felt his hands snake around your waist and then his head followed suit, nuzzling into your neck before placing a soft kiss on your skin, “I’m sorry schat.” He mumbled, tickling your ear with his soft tufts of blonde hair.

“Y’know,” You paused briefly in between your enraged sauteing, stainless steel spatula in the air, “I don’t think you are.”

“But I reeeaaallly am.” He copied your elongated whine, shifting the two of you by guiding you side to side, oscillating gently as though you were the dough and he was trying to knead the forgiveness out of you, “How about this..” he started, laughing inwardly when your ears perked up and you attempted to discreetly turn off the gas so you could spin in his hold. Looping your arms around his neck you prompted him to continue, “We could go to the pet shop tomorrow.” He murmured, looking up into the air, despite your vice like grip on his head as though the particles would answer him and not your already giddy form in front of him.

“Yeah?” You danced slightly in his hold, wiggling your hips like a hyper child, “You promise?”

“You can drive pista if I forget.” He nodded solemnly.

“Oh shit-“ You lean back, impressed with his dedication, “You really are sorry”

“dat is alles wat nodig is?” He blubbers, eyes wide for dramatic effect, as you would like to call it, “Your standards are low, real low my love.”

You furrow your brows, playfully hitting the underside of his head before leaning up to kiss his grimaced lips, "What else is new? How else do you think this happened?” You gestured between the two of you.

Max hummed, leaning down to kiss your cheek before trailing down to your jaw, he grinned against you when your breath hitched and you pulled him closer, if that was possible, “I wooed you?” He tried; you snorted in response.

“Yeah, you wooed the heck out of me, yee old Maximillian Verstappen, one foul scowl at me and bam four years later here we are.”

You yelped when he bit your neck.

“Hmm, I’m just so so handsome?” He couldn’t hold his laugh back at this claim.

“I first met you when you were a scrawny 18-year-old, but yes, you are very handsome.” you coo at him whilst caressing his face.

Max hummed in agreement, “I know.”

“You’re not going to compliment me?” You asked.

“Hmm…nope.” He shrugged.

You gaped at him for a beat before lunging at his face and taking the soft skin of his cheek between your teeth, holding it there and growling playfully. Max yelped and laughed at your pseudo-attack before pushing you away and taking your lips captive with his as revenge, “You’re much prettier than me geliefde.” He added before his tongue slipped between your lips.

“Max... the food” You helplessly remind him when he finally detaches from you, only to lift you into his arms and move to the left to sit you down onto the counter, slotting himself in between your pliantly open thighs you draw him closer despite your objections.

“Fuck the food...” He murmurs against your ear, kissing behind it and trailing his mouth lower and lower until he reached your baby blue, silk camisole. Max looks up at you briefly, his bottom lip just barely breaching the collar of your flowy top, you stare down at him eyes heavy and threatening to flutter closed with every hot breath of his that fanned over your chest.

You bring one hand away from his neck to drag down his face, your middle finger just barely anchored on his mouth, pulling down his lip until he stopped your journey south and took the soft digit into his mouth, “Yeah, that sounds fair.” You breathed out, already jumping back into his embrace, preparing yourself to slam the bedroom door closed with a breathless laugh.

“You forgot, didn’t you?” You ask him, plugging in your hairdryer and drawing out a large barrelled round brush from the containers that sat on your counter. The bathroom door was wide open as you waited expectantly for Max to emerge from the walk-in closet on the opposite side of the room, the only divider being your bed and a half-length wall.

“What? What did I forget?” Your boyfriend looked down at his phone, waiting for a calendar event to remind him, when that didn’t happen, he looked up at you.

You remained still, just flicking on the contraption in your hands and drowning out his obliviousness with the sound of luke-warm air drying your hair.

“Babe?” he tried once.

“Babe?” He tried again.

“Babe?”

You finally snapped, large brush still wrapped in your hair as your hand pressed your silky strands into the bristles and hair sprayed the volume into it, “Max, you’re shitting me, right? That’s it, keys to the pista.” You ordered, tapping your nail against the counter space next to you.

That’s when the realisation hit the driver in front of you, his face blanched and he rushed up to you, “See, I didn’t forget I conveniently played stupid?” He tried; eyes slightly lit up with hope.

“You’re right-“ You start, snorting at the badly veiled victorious expression on his face, “You are stupid.”

By this point, Max had reached the threshold of the bathroom and had slumped forward, the only thing stopping him from face-planting the expensive tiled floor were his hands braced on the doorframe, “Not the pista, baby, anything else.”

“What about one of your Aston Martins ?,” You faced him, tearing your eyes away from your reflection in the large mirror ahead.

Max’s face fell at the mention of his beloved collection of Aston’s, “Okay, so maybe we take the Pista…”

You pouted at him, swiping on a generous amount of pink lip-gloss, “I knew I should’ve been on top last night.”

The rollers in your hair fell one by one as you undid them, smiling cheekily to yourself when Max choked on his own spit, “What’s that meant to mean?”

“Don’t ask questions, that you don’t want to know the answers to.” You pass by him in the doorway, pinching his cheeks together and pecking him quickly on his duck-lips.

“So it’s the Pista?” He hollered from his place, craning his neck to where you had turned into the closet.

He heard you snort, and the rustling of fabric before you answered him, “It’s the most expensive Aston Martin you own!”

You ended up taking the pista.

But your resignation was soon vindicated when you broke the speed limits the whole drive from your apartment to the best pet store in the city.

“Heer, red mij” Max prayed, hand braced on the ceiling of the sports car as your heeled foot pressed even harder onto the accelerator, the car purred happily whilst you cruised along the mountain road, the view of the crashing waves almost therapeutic, until the serene scene was broken with a-

“BEN JE NET 150 KM/U BREKEN? HOE?” A shaky finger followed promptly afterwards, tapping the speedometer a few times.

You blow a nonchalant breath through your lips, “You’re a formula one driver Maxie, why are you so scared?”

“We don’t normally drive like hooligans, it’s precise and practise-“

You interrupted his rant by miraculously increasing your pace and speeding down the empty highway ahead, Max slammed one hand against the window as an ungodly screech erupted from the 3-time world champion.

Safe to say, you arrived at the pet store in a safe condition.

Never mind that Max had rushed out of the passenger’s seat to press a kiss to the hood of the car, before running to a few nearby bushes and attempting to uproot his breakfast.

Though, with no such luck of evacuating the contents of his stomach, he waddled over to where you stood unimpressed albeit also concerned to knit your hands together, pecking your forehead a few times he allowed you to guide him into the shop.

“Oh my god Maxie, look!” You squealed, rushing up to the large glass display of a dozen or so hamsters, the various coloured furballs rolled around the spacious enclosure as you cooed down at them.

Max bent down as well, but soon caught eye of the “HALF OFF” sign and stood straight, “’M not sure geliefde, maybe not hamsters, jimmy, and sassy like the taste of em.”

You nodded once, wrenching your gaze away from one of the hamsters that you had already grown fond off to hold your boyfriend’s hand once more, “You could be less crude about it.” You mumble inwardly.

“You’re telling me, about being crude.” He scoffed down at you before looping his arms around your neck and tucking you into his side.

The pair of you continued to walk around the retail, swerving into and out of isles whilst browsing each selection of pet that could potentially enter your home.

Max had to continuously drag you away from the more exotic selection that there was on display, that was after you had convinced the store clerk to wrap a domestic snake around his neck.

“You look like you’re about to throw up” You giggle, pointing your phone at Max, who’s face had turned an alarming red as the docile snake snuggled up to his thick neck.

“I’m about to faint, no shit right now, this is not babygirl schat, this is abuse.” He hissed, quoting what you had said to convince him in the first place, he brought one shaky hand up to pet the reptile, a laboured “shhh” noise escaping the dutchman as though he were coercing the docile animal to not strangle the life out of him.

Luckily, the over-amused store clerk unwrapped the snake from his shoulders before Max simultaneously shit himself and cried.

“Maxie, look” You rushed over to another enclosure, this time, it was a large area on the floor walled off with pet gates, plush pillows were propped up against the black grate along with tumultuous cat toys spread across the floor. Luckily, to match the mess, there were at least 15 kittens, all different breeds, some were sleeping on their tummies, fluffy eyes closed as their four limbs spread out oddly whilst others were being entertained by other enraptured patrons.

“Hi guys,” You whispered, tucking your skirt beneath your thighs as your crouched down again, coming eye to eye with the adorable animals, “You’re so cute,” Max had joined you promptly, hitching up his jeans as he lowered himself next to you, large blue eyes following the cats.

A worker noticed the two of you and left their previous customers, a couple, much like yourselves, the two people cuddled a soft brown kitten who nuzzled into their shared embrace.

“Hi! Can I help you?”

You looked up at her, smiling, “My boyfriend and I were looking for a new addition to our family, I would love to bring home one of these guys.” You gestured to the large play pen.

“Well, that’s just lovely! But the cat’s choose you guys, not the other way around.” The middle-aged woman laughed, her olive skin stretching as she unlocked the gate and ushered the two of you in, “That’s how me and my husband got our cat.”

“Oh...” You stood eerily still as multiple odd fluff-balls came and sniffed your heels before trotting away, “What if none of them like me?” You whisper to Max, who already housed at least 3 kittens by his feet, “Nonsense, you just have to be patient darling.” He kissed your cheek and rubbed your arm comfortingly.

After about 10 minutes of you gingerly attempting to welcome a companion into your embrace, a smaller, more fur decadent kitten walked out from behind the small playhouse that sat in the far corner of the enclosure. It cocked its head curiously at you before yawning and shaking its back, and rump, its snow-white fur oscillating with its movements.

“Hi honey,” You whispered, bending down to allow it to clamber sleepily into your lap, you squealed internally, standing up once again with the kitten safely embraced into your arms, its back angled comfortably on your forearms and head rested on your chest whilst it blinked slowly at you, pale green eyes shining happily.

Max grinned serenely at the pair of you, watching as you brought a hand up to rub gently on the pink nose of the animal in your care, “I think you just got chosen.” He laughed quietly, his chin resting on your shoulder as he gazed down at the sleepy cat.

“Her name’s pookie.” You declared giddily as you approached the car, holding out your hand for the keys to the expensive car. Max stared at you, fear evident in his eyes.

“You can name her whatever you want, but you are not driving the car, we have precious cargo now,” He petted pookie behind her ear.

“Fine, come here baby.” You barely pouted, already taking pookie and her small, shell shaped bed into your arms. She rested peacefully in your lap, purring contently as Max hauled the other pink cat care items you had bought, into the back seat.

“So, I just had to buy you a cat?” Max inquired; hand braced on the back of your headrest as he backed out of the parking spot.

You lean over the dash to kiss Max’s stubble covered cheek, “It’s so easy to please me, my love.”

“Well….” He squeaked, looking over at you suggestively.

“You perv,” You smacked his forehead but laughed nonetheless, “There’s children present.”

“So, Max?”

The driver perked up at his name, flipping the microphone in his hand to answer the question, he leaned back against the white sofa where he was joined by a few other of his fellow colleagues all of whom turned to the questioner in the sea of reporters.

“We’ve heard you have a new addition to the family?”

Max laughed into the mic, before adjusting the cap on his head and nodding, “Very true yes, the missus and I just got a new kitten into the house.” He plucked out his phone and held up a photo of you and Pookie, both of whom were turned away from the lens to face the large window showing of the Monaco coastline.

A flurry of ‘awws’ escaped the people present, and Charles who also swooned at the photo spoke into the mic, “Do you guys have a name yet?”

“Kind of, she wanted to name it ‘pookie’ and I just think that when I talk about the kitten, I’ll sound like an idiot, it doesn’t feel right with my accent.”

Charles popped his mouth open, “Wait- you call me pookie?”

Back at home, you had snuggled up to Jimmy and Sassy, both of whom had settled with laying their heads onto each of your legs whilst you held Pookie close to your chest, caressing her cheek, “That’s what you get leclerc.” You snarl at the screen, “Stealing my boyfriend, leaving our children fatherless, you whore.” You joked, filming your commentary to send to Max, who on the television screen was already justifying the similar names between his new daughter, and his work wife.

Pookie blinked up at you, and you swore, that she smiled at your determined face.

📻 Kcccchh.... come in.... come in...translatiion available...over

📻 Kchh...Dutch....to english....over

dat is alles wat nodig is ? - that's all it takes ?

Geliefde - Love [r]

Heer, red mij - Lord, save me

BEN JE NET 150 KM/U BREKEN? HOE? - DID YOU JUST BREAK 150 KPH? HOW?

schat - Darling/Love/Babe [term of endearment]

[loupy-mongoose]

Lil speech guide: Randy's speech Jamie's speech (Pokespeak will be in parentheses.)

It got pretty long, so under the Bar it goes!

PREVIOUS NEXT

~~~~~~

Jamie, the Gardevoir, and the three Lindens stood locked in tense silence. Randy fought to string together an explanation that wouldn't give away too much, while also trying to gauge Akoya's stance.

Jamie was the first to break the silence. Her expression hardened, her eyes displaying a sharp fury. Well? I'm not letting you a step further until I know it's not a threat.

The pointed stick in her hand lowered to point toward the family, and her authoritative tone chilled Randy. She meant business, which didn't help ease the man's racing mind.

Akoya answered before Randy could, her voice a bit too defensive in his opinion. It's none of your business what's in our bag. It's stuff for travel! What's wrong with that?!

Jamie clearly didn't believe her for a second. Her icy eyes bore into the white haired visitor. I won't tolerate a threat at my home. Tell me what's in there, or you WILL leave. Her eyes flashed ominously. Or worse.

Feeling a wave of protectiveness, Randy shuffled to stand in front of Akoya and Lavender. He hoped they couldn't feel the surge of utter dread that coursed through his body.

Listen, Jamie. He tried to keep his voice low, level, and non-threatening. What's in that bag is very precious to us, and we can't show you out here where others might see it. If we can go somewhere private, then maybe we can work something out.

He felt the sharp jab of Akoya's disapproval from behind him. Between her and the protesting red-head in front of them, he felt his resolve being wringed out of him.

Jamie stood still, her glare unwavering. After a moment, her head lifted slightly as she addressed their Pokemon company in an strong bark. (Darren, Sheila, Percy, please hide us with your wings.)

Percy and Darren gave startled, bewildered looks, while Sheila tilted her head and chuffed questioningly. But they did as she asked, reaching out to their widest wingspans, touching tip-to-tip with each other.

The Lindens hesitantly shuffled to adjust their positions as their space shrank.

There. Jamie eyed them all closely You wanted somewhere private; this is it. If you still won't show me, you'll have to leave.

Randy and Akoya glanced nervously at each other.

What could be done?

They came to a silent agreement.

Akoya turned back to Jamie, giving her a glare that verged on desperation. We're showing you because you forced our hand. NOT because we trust you. If you try anything...

To Randy's surprise, he caught a falter in Jamie's resolve, and something changed. A new expression slipped into her demeanor, if only barely.

Curiosity.

The look on Jamie's face turned from shock to determination.

Swiftly she addressed her three winged Pokemon. (Spread the word; we need to find a little pink Mew with blue accents. It is to be brought back to these three safely and secretly.)

The three beasts nodded in sincerity and took off.

Persim poked his head of of the bag, his face etched in horror, while Momo was shrieking. Stay in there for now, Perzi. Randy's voice was shaky, but reassuring. We'll handle it. Could you please try to calm Momo down?

The orange feline nodded uncertainly and ducked back into the bag. Randy saw a green bubble form in it as he zipped it shut. Momo's screams went quiet, but he knew it was just contained by the bubble. Poor Persim...

The red-headed girl looked solemnly at the devastated family, her expression softer than any of them had seen from her yet. I'm truly sorry about that... I promise you all, this is the best place for a Pokemon like them to be lost at. There will be lots of good Pokemon looking for them, and any humans will be curious at worst. It might scare them, but nobody will hurt them.

I would've done things differently if I'd known they were in there...

Akoya gave up looking nearby for her son and took a breath. She turned to Jamie, for once without venom. Listen, Jamie, with all due respect, we'll be able to find him easier than your little... network, or whatever you have here. He's gotta be terrified! He might just keep teleporting away if strangers find him, human or Pokemon...

Jamie folded her arms with a hesitant nod. You're free to search too, if you think so. Maybe you're right, and he'll only show for you guys. But if anyone spots him, I'll hear of it, so I'd best stick with you.

Akoya gave an uncertain look and opened her mouth to speak. But, feeling her about to protest, Randy interrupted her. We can talk later. Let's go find Midas.

~~~~~~

PREVIOUS NEXT

New skill acquired~

And just for the fun of it, I'm uh... gonna share some of the (very) rough sketches I did for this part, because I find them hilarious.

Luna (my cat) randomly decided to leave the comfort of her cat tower to come lay on my arm. The trouble was, it was my drawing arm. So I made due. XD

[thequeenofneverland1]

Kol Mikaelson////Bound by Love

Anonymous request: Can I a request a story Kol Mikaelson falling in love with Davina’s little sister and Davina and Marcel not approving of the relationship when they find out that Y/n and Kol ore dating both Davina and Marcel warns Kol and his family to stay away from Y/n but obviously he doesn’t so something leads that Marcel kicks out Y/n you can choose how to end it and thank you :)

Warnings: Betrayal and manipulation by family members, Banishment and exile from a community, Emotional distress and sadness, Family conflict and confrontation,Jealousy and tension between siblings, Betrayal and consequences of actions, Loss of trust and break of relationships, Emotional manipulation and pleading for help, Family members being escorted out of a community, Consequences of betrayal and actions, Tension and conflict between family members, Abandonment and rejection by loved ones

the Mystical town of New Orleans, Kol Mikaelson found himself falling head over the younger sister of Davina Claire. You were kind-hearted and spirited, causing him to fall in love with your infectious laughter and unwavering loyalty.

But when Davina and Marcel Gerard discovered the budding relationship between Kol and you, they were less than pleased. They believed Kol to be a troublemaker, prone to chaos and destruction, and they did not want you to be caught up in his web.

"You know Kol's history, Davina," Marcel warned, his voice filled with concern. "He may claim to love your sister now, but how long before he shows his true colors?"

Davina nodded solemnly, her face clouded with worry. "I don't want her to get hurt, Marcel. We have to do something before it's too late."

Kol entered the room as he waited for you, only to hear Marcel and Davina talking about him. "We need to put a stop to this. Kol can't be trusted."

"You're right. Y/n deserves better than to get involved with a Mikaelson." She tells him.

With a solemn attitude, Kol emerged from behind the door. "I was unable to resist listening in on your talk. I know you're worried, but I'm not going to avoid Y/n. I'm not going to allow anyone to stop me from loving her."

Marcel exchanged a look of surprise with Davina. “You have no idea what you're getting yourself into.”

"Maybe not, but I'm willing to take that risk for Y/n and for our love." Kol states

"How can we be certain that you're not merely taking advantage of her?” He asked, “ We all know how highly your family values power, and she is a powerful witch."

"I can promise you that my feelings for Y/n are sincere, but I do understand your concern. However Her power doesn't pique my attention. I love her just the way she is." Kol states again.

Not believing him, Davina shakes her head. “Additionally, who's to say you won't turn on her when the time is right? Betrayal is ingrained in the Mikaelson family's heritage."

"I know my family has done some terrible things, but I'm not my family. I'm my own person, and I've changed. I want to be someone that Y/n can rely on." Saying this, Kol hopes that they will believe him.

"Words are cheap." Marcel says and Davina nods in agreement

You entered the room, a confused look on your face, you noticed that they got quiet "What's going on? Why does it feel like I walked in on something?"

Marcel and Davina exchanged a glance, unsure of what to say. “Well?”

Kol approaches you while wearing an unhappy face "They were just telling me to stay away from you, Y/n. They think I'm using you for your power."

Your expression turned to anger as you turned to your sister and Marcel. "How dare you? Kol loves me, and I love him. And you have no right to interfere in our relationship."

“Y/n, we’re just trying to protect you.” She tells you.

"I'm not in need of your defense.” You respond, "I need you guys to trust me to make my own decisions and to respect my choices."

You turned over to Kol, "I'm sorry that they're putting you through this. I believe you, Kol. And I trust that your feelings for me are genuine."

"Thank you, darling," Kol grinned. “For me, that is very important. They won't be able to separate us, but I swear to do everything in my power to earn their trust."

“Y/n, we're only thinking about what's best for you. Is it really that wrong that we were cautious about a Mikaelson?" Without attempting to enrage you, Marcel tells you

"No, I can't blame you. But I can ask you to give Kol a chance. He's not his family, and he deserves to be judged on his own merits." You let him know that you understood that his only concern was for your protection

“Okay, all right. However, he will be held accountable to us if he harms you." Your sister gives you a warm smile.

You gave her a smile in return, "fair enough. However, I feel that's not a concern for us."

Kol grinned at you and took your hand, giving it a comforting squeeze before you both left.

"I still don't trust him, Davina," Marcel tells her as they watch Kol and you leave. “He is a Mikaelson, and they are infamous for their deception."

She folded her arms. "Yes, Marcel, I am aware. However, Y/n seems to sincerely love him, and we are powerless to stop her from loving him.”

"I know that but I just don't want her to get hurt. And if Kol does anything to hurt her, I swear I'll make him regret it." He declares

"I feel the same way, Marcel. But for now, we need to give them some space. My sister is a smart woman, and I'm sure she'll make the right decision." She informs him.

"I hope you're right, Davina.” he adds, trying to hide his worries about you. “Because if Kol crosses us, he'll have hell to pay."

“I believe he is aware of it. If he's intelligent, he'll go above and beyond to convince us of his worth." She chuckles as she shakes her head at how theatrical he is being.

Klaus entered the room with a smirk on his face as Marcel and Davina were wrapping up their talk. "Ah, Davina, Marcel. You two were talking about my brother and your beloved sister, and I couldn't help but listen."

"Klaus, what do you want?" Marcel expresses his obvious displeasure that Klaus entered the home without authorization.

Klaus smirks. “Oh stop, I'm just stopping over to say congrats. It appears that my brother has gained Y/n's affection. And he's really in love with her, I have to admit."

"Klaus, you and your siblings don't have our trust." Your sister gives him a furious stare.

He rolls his eyes. “Yes, I'm well aware. But you might be surprised by what Kol is capable of when he puts his mind to it. He may be a Mikaelson, but he's also his own person. But Rather than that, you guys can trust us."

"Klaus, all your family has done is bring suffering and devastation. What makes any of you worthy of our trust?” Marcel declared he didn't give a damn whether he enraged Klaus or not

Klaus narrows his eyes as he walks over to him. "Careful, Marcel. You may be powerful, but don't forget who holds the cards here."

Refusing to back down, He tells Klaus, "I'm not afraid of you, Klaus, You'll have to deal with all of us if your brother harms Y/n”

"Ah, such loyalty.” Klaus began laughing. “But be warned, Marcel. I won't hesitate to protect my family, even from you. And if Kol loves Y/n as much as you claim, I'm sure he won't hesitate either."

“We'll do whatever it takes to protect Y/n, Klaus. Even from you and your brother."

"Very well, then. Let the games begin." He declares.

"We mean it, Klaus. Keep your family away from Y/n. We won't tolerate any interference from the Mikaelsons." Your sister warns him.

"Davina, you really need to get better at picking your battles. You're in no position to make demands of me or my family." He tries to go in front of your sister while telling your sister, but Marcel moves in front of her. “We're not afraid of you, Klaus. And we'll do whatever it takes to protect Y/n."

"Very well, Marcel. But don't forget, I have eyes and ears everywhere. And if I catch wind of any harm coming to my brother or Y/n, there will be consequences."

She shook her head. "We're not the ones you need to worry about, Klaus. It's your family's reputation that precedes you."

"And besides, I doubt Y/n would appreciate you speaking for her, Marcel. She's a strong, independent young woman who can make her own choices. And if she's chosen to be with my brother, it's because she sees something in him that you clearly cannot."

Marcel lashes out, saying, "Klaus, you think you know everything. But take note. you will suffer consequences if your family hurts Y/n."

Klaus chuckles once more. "Oh, Marcel, I've made my share of payments. And if it means defending my loved ones and myself, I'll be happy to repay them. I have to take care of some more pressing affairs, so please excuse me."

“Naturally, by arranging with your brother to take advantage of her and make her go insane.” Your sister yells at him.

"Become insane? Oh, please. Given Y/n's strength as a witch, why would we ever wish to hurt her? She's significant to me and the rest of my siblings because she's important to my brother." He informs both of them.

Marcel chuckles, obviously not buying it. "Klaus, you've hurt a lot of people who were significant to other people in the past. What makes us think you would treat Y/n any differently?”

She gives Marcel a nod of approval "We won't take any chances when it comes to Y/n's safety. She must not be around you and your family, or else there will be consequences .”

His eyebrows shot up. "Davina, is that a threat? If that's the case, I advise you to carefully consider what you say next. You don't want my family and I to become your enemies. Or maybe my brother and my family aren't the source of your issue at all. Maybe you're simply jealous that Kol chose Y/n instead of you. Seeing your younger sister with the man you desire for yourself must be difficult."

"How dare you!" she yells at him, furious. “You have no idea who I am or what I'm into."

He grinned, "I guess I know more than you think. You're not as adept at controlling your emotions as you believe you are. Additionally, if I were you, I would exercise caution when making enemies of people who are able to see right through you."

"Enough, Klaus. You've made your point. Now leave us alone." Marcel leads him to the door

"Davina, there's one more thing. It's fortunate that my brother picked Y/n over you. You're not worthy of him or any member of my family. On the other hand, let's simply say that your sister is everything and you're not." He conveys to her

"Leave!" she fiercely gestures toward the door.

He laughs. "As you wish. But keep in mind that I'll stop at nothing to keep Y/n and my brother safe. My brother loves Y/n. Therefore, don't cross my family or me. The outcomes won't be to your liking."Before leaving, he issues the warning.

“That arrogant, self-righteous, son of a..."she furiously tries to say but she gets stopped by Marce placing a hand on her shoulder. "Davina, calm down. He's not worth it."

"How can I calm down after everything he just said?" she asks, staring at him foolishly.” He essentially threatened me and called me worthless."

"I know, but getting worked up about it won't help. We need to focus on protecting Y/n, not on getting revenge on Klaus."

"But he can't just get away with saying those things!"

"I promise you, Davina. He'll have his desserts. However, let's keep Y/n secure from him and his family for the time being." He smiles and comforts her, "But for now, I'm going to go talk to Rebekah, and hopefully she can help us."

Rebekah nods in agreement with Klaus's statement. “I regret to inform you that my brother is correct in two particular regards. Even though Davina won't acknowledge it, she does feel something for Kol. Marcel, let's be honest. Y/n is more attractive and intelligent than Davina could ever be. It makes sense that Kol choose her over her sister."

Marcel is furious that his beloved agrees with her brother, "Rebekah, that's not fair.Davina has gone through a lot."

She shrugs her shoulders."everyone has. she’s not the only one. But whose fault is that? Davina made her own choices, just like Y/n has. And if she's jealous of her sister, well, that's her problem, not mine."

He sighs. "I don't know what to do, Rebekah. I want to protect Y/n, but I don't want to drive her away."

She rolls her eyes. "Then maybe you should stop listening to Davina and start listening to your heart. Sometimes the best way to protect someone is to give them the space they need to make their own mistakes."

Rebekah knocks on Klaus's door "Hey, big brother. Mind if I come in?"

Klaus smiles "Ah, sister. To what do I owe this honor?"

She sat down on the bed. “Marcel was here and we were talking. And you were right. Davina is jealous of Y/n."

He nods "Of course she is. Davina's always been a bit of a wild card. And Y/n... well, let's just say she's a rare gem, even by Mikaelson standards."

She smiles at the thought of you. "I know. She's smart, beautiful, and completely fearless. It's no wonder Kol fell for her."

"Indeed. And if Marcel and Davina aren't careful, they're going to push her right into our brother’s arms. Not that I'm complaining, of course."

"I know.”

He expresses concern to his sister "Maybe we ought to monitor Y/n more closely. I wouldn't rule out Davina making a stupid attempt."

"You're right," she nods. “It's not like Davina is known for her self control. However, caution will be required. We want Y/n to not feel as though we are suffocating her.”

“I concur. We'll need to keep our distance. However, not even Davina will be allowed to jeopardize my brother's happiness." He informs his sister of the consequences.

She smiles at her brother, "You really have taken a shine to Y/n, haven't you, brother?"

He shrugs his shoulders with a smile."What can I say? She's a remarkable young woman. And she makes Kol happy. That's enough for me."

"What? Davina is envious of Y/n? That's unbelievable.” Kol says, quite unexpectedly.

"Brother, believe it. And we must exercise caution. I refuse to allow Davina or anybody else to jeopardize Y/n's security." He informs him.

Kol declares emphatically, "Brother, neither will I. I'll stop at nothing to keep Y/n safe, even if it means putting my life in danger."

"It's so sweet to see you so smitten, Kol," Rebekah says with a smile. “But maintain your vigilance. Davina is erratic, and we never know what she will do.”

Kol gave a nod. "Sister, I won't. I swear. I'm completely devoted to Y/n, and I won't allow anything or anyone stand in our way."

You were initially skeptical of Kol's claims, but eventually started to see the possibility of your sister's jealousy. “Davina is jealous of me? No way. She's my sister, she wouldn't do something like that."

“I know it's difficult to accept, darling. Klaus and Rebekah are sure And I'm concerned about her potential actions." Kol informs you

"I... I don't know," you scowl. “Although Davina might be erratic, I never imagined that she would feel jealous of me. particularly with a man."

He took your hand. "Listen, darling. No matter what happens, you have to know that I love you. And only you. Your sister doesn't factor into this at all."

You gave a sorrowful smile. "Regards, Kol. You do, I'm sure. I simply never imagined my own sister could be that self-centered, and I love you too."

You decided to confront your sister about her alleged "Davina, is it true? That you are jealous about me and Koi?"

"What? No, of course not! How could you even think that?" Davina asked shocked

You shrugged your shoulders "I don't know what to think, sister. But Klaus and Rebekah seem to think you are."

Your sister angrily tells you. “They're lying to you, Y/n! They're trying to turn you against me because they're afraid of how powerful we are together."

"I don't know, Davina. I just want to know the truth." You said confused

Davina pleaded to you. “The truth is that I love you, sister . And I would never do anything to hurt you. Please, don't believe what Klaus and Rebekah are saying. They're just trying to manipulate you.”

As you recalled Davina's previous attempts to make Kol jealous, you realizes that your sister's behavior aligns with Klaus and Rebekah's claims were true

Davina gazed into your eyes with tears in them. "Y/n, no. You must have faith in me. I'm not envious. You're my sister, please. Nobody knows me as you do."

You shook your head “I don't know, Davina. I want to believe you, but... (you pauses, remembering Davina's previous behavior) …”that's why you asked if I had a guy friend for you to date. You were trying to make Kol jealous, weren't you?"

She was stuttering. "No... no... I….I just wanted to get his attention.It was not intended to be meaningful.”

You cast a somber glance at her. “I adore you, sister, but Klaus and Rebekah are correct. You're envious of Kol and me. And that's unacceptable.”

"Enough, all of you! Can't you see that this is tearing Y/n and her sister apart?" Marcel tells the three of you and he turns to look at you, his face full of anger. "You know what, Y/n? I thought you were better than this. You're not family, and you never will be. Get out."

"Marcel, what are you saying?" you questioned in shock. “I can't just be kicked out!"

He angrily tells you. "I can, and I will. Davina's my family, and I won't have you causing her pain."

Kol intervenes to protect you. "Marcel, stop up! Y/n isn't to blame for this. It was Davina who started this whole thing.”

He ignores Kol and he points to the door. “I don't care, Kol. Y/n's no longer welcome here. Now leave, before I make you."

"Fine, Marcel. I'll go. But you're making a big mistake." You said leaving as Kol comforted you. “Shh darling I’m here.”

Upon arriving at the Mikaelson mansion, Kol and you are warmly welcomed by the Mikaelson family, who make it clear that you are now one of them.

Elijah greets you with a smile. "Welcome, Y/n. We're so glad you're here. Please, make yourself at home."

Klaus smiles at you as well. “Indeed, Y/n. You're family now, and we protect our own."

Rebekah hugs you. "Marcel's a fool for kicking you out. But don't worry, we'll take good care of you here Sweetie."

Kol holding your hand. “I told you, darling. You belong here with us. You're a Mikaelson now, always and forever."

You were overwhelmed. "Thank you all so much. I don't know what I would have done without you."

One year later, Kol and your love for each other has only grown stronger, and the two of you decide to tie the knot. While the absence of your sister and Marcel brings you sadness, your new family is here to support you on your special day.

The wedding ceremony is beautiful, with you looking radiant in your dress and Kol beaming with pride as he watches you walk down the aisle with his two brothers. However, as the ceremony progresses, you can't help but feel a pang of sadness as you notices the empty seats where Davina and Marcel should be

Kol noticed your sadness. “Darling, what's wrong? This is our big day. You should be happy."

You carefully wipe off your tears trying to not ruin your makeup. "I know, Kol. I'm just sad that my sister and Marcel couldn't be here. I miss them."

Klaus stepped in since he overheard you. "Don't worry, Y/n. We're your family now, and we'll always be here for you. Today is about you and Kol, and no one else."

Rebekah pulled you into a warm hug. "Don't let them ruin this day for you, sister. You deserve to be happy, and we're here to make sure you are."

Elijah smiles as he nods. "Indeed, Y/n. Today is a celebration of your love for Kol, and our love for you. Let's make it a day to remember."

You smiled back. "Thank you all so much. I'm so lucky to have you as my family."

Kol takes your hand. “darling like I told you. You're a Mikaelson. And that means you're never alone."

As the ceremony continues, your sadness gradually fades, replaced by the joy and love of your family. Together, they celebrate the union of Kol and you, and the beginning of a new chapter in their lives.

Months later, you and your family are out in the city when you guys witness a surprising turn of events. Davina and Marcel, who had been absent from your life for some time, are being banished from the city. Despite the tension between them, you feel compelled to confront your ister and former friend.

You guys watched as Davina and Marcel are escorted out of the city, their belongings scattered behind them. Davina catches sight of you and tries to approach you, but the Kol and his siblings step in to protect you

Kol defensively tells her. "Stay back, Davina. You've done enough damage."

"Please, Y/n. I just want to talk to you."Davina pleaded

"It's alright, guys. I can handle this." You told them.

Klaus looks at you unsure. "Are you sure, Y/n? We don't want you to get hurt."

You nodded . "I'm sure. Davina's my sister, after all. I need to face her."

Davina reveals the reason behind their banishment, which involves Marcel's wrongdoing. "It's all Marcel's fault, Y/n. He made a deal with the enemy behind our backs, betraying our coven and putting everyone at risk. When the elders found out, they banished us both from the city."

you looked at him, shocked “Marcel, is this true?"

He defensively puts his hands up in the air. "I did what I had to do, Y/n. They were threatening to expose us to the humans. I had no choice."

You angrily yelled at him." So you sold out your own people? How could you do that, Marcel?"

Your sister pleaded to you as she got on her knees “Please, Y/n. You have to help us. We have nowhere else to go."

You let out a sigh. “I don't know, Davina. You both betrayed me. Why should I help you now?"

Davina and Marcel beg you for help, hoping that your connections with powerful people could offer them a lifeline. However, your loyalty now lies with your family, who have stood by your side when Davina and Marcel didn't.

She starts to cry, “please, Y/n. We need you. You know powerful people. You can convince them to help us."

You shook your head. "I'm sorry, sister. But I'm not going to betray them like you betrayed me. They're my family, and I won't turn my back on them."

Marcel angrily tells you. “So that's it? You're just going to leave us out here to fend for ourselves?"

You firmly back at him. "You made your choices, Marcel. And you have to live with the consequences. Good luck to both of you."

As you walk away from your sister and Marcel, Klaus can't resist a final parting shot, emphasizing the consequences of their actions. "I did warn you, didn't I? But you chose to ignore me. Now look where it's gotten you. You should have listened to me, and maybe things would have turned out differently."

Davina scowling. "Shut up, Klaus. This is all your fault."

Klaus laughs. “Oh, please. You're the ones who dug your own graves. Don't blame me for your own stupidity."

Rebekah turned over to Kol. "Come on, get Y/n out of here. She doesn't need to see any more of this."

Kol nods at his sister."You're right.” And he takes your hand. “Let's go, darling.”

As Kol and you walk away from the confrontation with Davina and Marcel, Kol decides to lighten the mood by revealing a surprise for you.

He grinned at you. "Hey, darling . I know that was a tough situation, but I've got something that might cheer you up.”

You asked curiously. "Oh? And what might that be?"

He teases. you. “Well, you'll just have to wait and see. But I promise it'll be worth it."

You smiled. “You're such a tease, Kol Mikaelson. But I'm intrigued. What's this surprise?"

He laughs. "Patience, Y/n Mikaelson. All will be revealed in due time."

As Kol and you continued walking, you can't help but smile at Kol's playfulness, grateful for his ability to lift your pirits even in difficult times.

Kol leads you to your surprise, keeping your yes covered until the two of you arrive at the destination. When he finally reveals the surprise, it's a beautiful house that he has acquired for him and you. Kol explains his reasoning behind the gesture, which elicits a laugh from you.

You laughed at him. “Oh, Kol. You really think the interruptions will stop just because we have our own house?"

He nods with a smile. "A man can dream, can't he? But seriously, I want us to have our own space, where we can be alone together whenever we want."

You smiled. "That sounds wonderful, Kol. Thank you."

Kol and you shared a kiss. "Anything for you, my darling. Now, shall we go inside and explore our new home?"

Together, Kol and you enter the house, excited to begin this new chapter of yours and his lives together

As Kol and you are about to enjoy the new home alone, Klaus, Elijah and Rebekah unexpectedly show up, much to Kol's chagrin. They continue their playful teasing, indicating that the interruptions might not be over just yet.

Klaus walks in with a smirk on his face. "Hey guys, we brought pizza!"

With Rebekah and Elijah following Klaus. "And wine, of course. Can't forget the wine."

Kol groans. "Really, guys? You're gonna do this here, too?"

Rebekah laughs with Klaus and Elijah. "Yup!"

You smiled. "Well, as long as there's pizza and wine, I'm not complaining."

The five of you all settle in to enjoy the meal together, relishing in the family bond and the lighthearted moments that you and your family share

[gremlinmodetweeker]

I've been roused seeing CatTac stuff. Horangi and König coming home late and hearing you scream. Not realizing you got jump scared from watching something on your phone/TV. What do, gimme the goods!! Respectfully 💖

Okay so this is where things get hairy, no pun intended. I'm telling you now that the guys go haywire. It also nearly blows their cover...

After a long day, you're ready to kick up your feet and relax. Your cats are back in your bedroom, snuggled together and napping on your pillow. You make sure they were all comfy before you walk out to the living room and decide to watch a good horror movie.

When a scream rips through the apartment, König and Horangi are up like a shot. Little do you know, they immediately shift into their human forms. König is about to thunder out into the apartment when Horangi grabs his shoulder. Horangi sniffs the air and tells König to do the same.

"Nobody's here," Horangi whispers to König.

König takes a sniff and nods back, "She might be hurt out there! We need to go!"

"But what about-"

"The more we wait the worse it'll be!" König whispers back harshly and lunges into action.

The two charge into the living room, thunderous footsteps accompanying them as they made their way down the hall. The moment they come into the living room König immediately drops down into cat form. Horangi, tailing behind him, follows suit and hurries over to König's side.

"False alarm," König meows to Horangi as Owner jumps to her feet.

"What the fuck!?" you yell as you scramble to your feet.

Horangi looks up onto the big screen. It's... It's a horror movie. It's just a horror movie. He glares at König.

"König you're fat, but you're not that fat are you?" you mutter as you walk over to the kitties.

König gives out an irritated mew as you scoop him up in your arms with a scowl.

"I... Okay, I thought I heard people running in my apartment," you mutter as you bury your face in his belly, "and now I'm talking to my cats? I think I need to call the doctor tomorrow..."

You turn off the tv and slink back to bed with a grumble, spooking at every tiny noise and flinching at every movement in the corner of your eye. You nearly dropkick Horangi when he tries to bat at you from under your bed. When you finally lie down in bed, you drift off to sleep pretty quickly. The adrenaline of the day finally hit in hard.

When Horangi and König are sure that you're asleep, they curl around opposite sides of your head in their cat forms.

"You stupid idiot," Horangi hisses, "you nearly got us busted!"

"You heard her scream!" König yowls back.

"Yeah, but you ran in there as a human," Horangi growls as he licks your temple, "what were you thinking?"

"Well, if she was getting attacked-"

"Nobody was there!!! We could've gone and checked it out as cats," Horangi huffs before nipping your temple. You swat him in your sleep and he hisses.

König nuzzles into your ear and sighs. He picks his head up to look at his best friend and lover.

"We need to tell her," he says sadly, "it's not fair to her."

Horangi folds his ears back, but he nods solemnly.

"Soon," he promises, "soon. But not tomorrow. She's giving us the fish patties tomorrow."

König swishes his tail irritably but nods in agreement, "Fish patties first, then we tell her."

"Whatever you say big guy," Horangi rolls his eyes and nuzzles back into your side.

They enjoy the silence and peace together, soaking in your warm scent as they slowly give in to sleep.

König raises his head one final time, "Is she even into polyamory? How are we gonna convince her to try a threesome with us?"

"König," Horangi growls, "go the fuck to sleep."

[kathlare]

santa doesn't know you like i do

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Amelie steps into the warmth of the Norris family home after years of distance, uncertain of how she will be received.

Wordcount: 1.0 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

December 24th, 2023 - London, United Kingdom

Snowflakes drifted lazily outside the large bay windows of the Norris family home, the warm glow of Christmas lights reflecting against the frosted glass. The house smelled like cinnamon, roasted turkey, and the sweet scent of mulled wine. The soft hum of Christmas music played in the background, blending seamlessly with the sound of laughter and conversation.

Amelie adjusted the bow of the deep green dress she was wearing, her fingers fidgeting slightly. She had spent the entire drive here telling herself she wasn’t nervous, but now that she was standing in front of Lando’s childhood home, she realized just how much she was lying.

—Baby, relax.— Lando’s voice was gentle as he squeezed her hand. —They love you, you know that.—

She gave him a look, her dark eyes filled with something between amusement and anxiety. —They loved me. Past tense. Before I disappeared from their lives for almost three years.—

Lando shook his head, stepping closer, his free hand brushing a loose curl behind her ear. —Trust me, Ames. They’re just excited to have you back. I’m excited to have you back.—

Her heart melted a little, the warmth of his palm against her cheek grounding her.

—You’re really cute when you try to be reassuring, you know that?— she teased, smirking.

Lando rolled his eyes but grinned anyway. —Come on, let’s go before my mum comes out and drags us inside herself.—

He wasn’t joking. As soon as he opened the door, Cisca Norris was there, practically beaming.

—Amelie! Oh, darling, it’s so good to see you!—

Before she could react, she was wrapped in a warm, motherly embrace. Amelie let out a breath of relief, hugging her back.

—Hi, Ms. Norris. It’s really good to see you too.—

—Oh, stop with the ‘Ms. Norris’ nonsense. It’s Cisca, as it always was,— Cisca corrected, pulling back to cup Amelie’s face briefly before ushering them both inside.

Adam was next, giving her a firm but warm hug, followed by Oliver, who smirked and said, —So, back to dealing with this idiot again, huh?—

—Unfortunately, yeah,— Amelie teased, nudging Lando playfully.

—Oi!— Lando shot her a look, though the amusement in his eyes betrayed him.

—Oh, you’ll get used to it again,— Sav chimed in with a grin. —God knows we’ve all had to.—

Lando’s younger sisters, Flo and Cisca, had been hovering nearby, and as soon as there was an opening, they pounced.

—You have no idea how much we missed you!— Cisc practically squealed, pulling Amelie into a tight hug.

Flo, though slightly more reserved, nodded in agreement. —It’s nice having you back, Ames.—

Amelie felt something tight in her chest loosen. She had been afraid—afraid that things would be weird, that they would feel different. But standing here, surrounded by Lando’s family, it felt like she had never really left.

And then there was a very small voice.

—Who is she?—

Amelie turned, only to see the cutest little girl staring up at her with big, curious eyes. Mila. She had only met her once before, back when she was just a baby, but now, at three years old, she was clearly trying to figure out who this stranger was.

—Mila, this is Amelie. She’s my girlfriend,— Lando introduced her with a soft smile.

Mila frowned, processing the information, before looking at Amelie seriously. —Do you like cookies?—

Amelie bit back a grin, nodding solemnly. —I love cookies.—

Mila seemed satisfied with this answer because she immediately grabbed Amelie’s hand and pulled her toward the living room. —Then you can have some. But only if you help me eat the chocolate ones before Uncle Lando does.—

Lando gasped dramatically. —Mila! I thought we were on the same team!—

—Nope!— Mila giggled before disappearing with Amelie in tow.

Lando watched them go, something soft and warm blooming in his chest.

—She’s gonna fit in just fine,— Oliver muttered beside him, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

—Yeah,— Lando murmured, his gaze locked on Amelie as she sat cross-legged on the floor with Mila, Athena crawling toward her with fascination. Amelie reached for the baby, letting her tiny fingers grab onto hers, her whole face lighting up.

Yeah. She was always meant to be here.

The night carried on with endless laughter, food, and teasing—mostly aimed at Lando.

At some point, Lando had dragged Amelie outside onto the patio, away from the chaos. Snowflakes drifted lazily from the sky, the cold biting at their cheeks, but neither of them cared. Lando wrapped his arms around her from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder.

—So? Was it as scary as you thought?— he murmured.

Amelie leaned back against him, shaking her head with a smile. —Not at all. Your family is amazing, Lan.—

—Told you they missed you.—

She turned in his arms, her fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. —I missed them too. And you.—

His hands tightened on her waist. —You have me, Ames. For as long as you’ll have me.—

Her breath hitched, but she smiled. —Good. Because I don’t plan on letting you go again.—

Lando grinned before leaning in, pressing his lips softly against hers. The world faded, leaving just the two of them, wrapped up in warmth despite the cold.

Inside, the Norris family watched through the window, exchanging knowing smiles.

Yeah. She was always meant to be here.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。SECRET — AL-HAITHAM.

pls come join me in silly haitham agenda and indulge me in the idea that he can be very playful and cute and lovely and charming thank you

al-haitham hates meetings.

and yet, here he is, struggling to find his clothes frustratedly in nothing but his boxers as he readies himself for one. to add to his misery, he can’t seem to find any of his regular clothes—how is it possible for all pairs of pants to be gone from his (neatly organized) closet? perhaps he was doomed from the moment he accepted his position—though it was hesitantly, and only under the agreement that it would be temporary.

he didn’t ask to be acting grand sage—and he certainly didn’t ask for all the responsibility that comes with it. but now, on the morning of a very important meeting which he absolutely cannot miss no matter how often he tries to make himself scarce in akademiya matters that simply don’t concern him, he rummages through clothes with a string of curses under his breath.

“are you planning on wearing pants?” you giggle, making him eye you wearily over his shoulder.

“well, that depends,” he huffs, “would you prefer me to show up like this?”

“of course not, this is a view reserved for myself only. and one that’s hardly appropriate for the grand sage,” you grin, pressing freshly laundered clothes into his hands.

he accepts them graciously—they’re still warm, like they’ve been freshly washed and dried for him to wear. you watch as he slips into his pants, admiring the pulls and flexes of his muscles as he dresses.

“how is it that i feel more exposed now that i’m dressed than before,” he raises a brow, “it must be your eyes practically undressing me.”

“oh but mister grand sage,” you tease, making him grumble a faint correction of acting grand sage as he rolls his eyes, “forgive me for my lack of manners. it’s just that…well, never mind. it’s a secret,” you giggle.

he turns, walking up to you as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his chest as he leans closer. he’ll run late if he doesn’t leave soon—but not late enough that he can’t spare a moment or two for you.

“a secret, you say?” he hums, nose brushing against the column of your neck. you shiver, fingers grasping at the smooth skin of his bare shoulders. “as acting grand sage, i require intel on this secret.”

“that’s an abuse of power,” you inhale sharply when he presses a kiss to your jaw, as the warmth of his breath hits your skin from the low chuckle he lets out.

“is it?” he grins, “i’m sure if i really wanted to abuse power, i would have by now.”

his head moves up so that his lips just hover over your own—it’s unfair, how tantalizingly slow he is at leaning into you, how his touch ghosts over you. it makes you lean in to close the gap yourself, but he doesn’t make it so simple. he pulls away quickly, chuckling at the pout that tugs at your lips.

“this is corruption,” you gasp.

“then i suggest you tell me this secret of yours.”

“well,” you make a show to look around, as though any eavesdroppers could make themselves present in your empty home—kaveh has already left early, with his keys forgotten, again. “i’ve come to realize that you’re quite handsome, mister grand sage. and…well, i’m afraid i’ve fallen quite deeply for your charms. i don’t know how i’ll break it to my lover.”

“your lover?” he furrows his brows in confusion, making you nod solemnly.

“yes, my lover. you might’ve heard of him? the akademiya’s scribe?” you smile widely once he rolls his eyes at your mischief, wrapping your arms around his neck while his snake tighter around your waist.

“i see. it’s a grave predicament indeed,” he nods, face as serious as ever as he plays along.

“yes,” you sigh dramatically, “i’m afraid i’m in a terribly difficult spot. i can’t decide if i love the scribe or you, mister grand sage. but if word got around that i’ve got my eye on two men…. well, my reputation would be in ruins.”

“well, we wouldn’t want that,” he shakes his head, squeezing your hips with his large hands and pulling you against his chest.

“any advice who i should pick?”

“i think,” he presses his forehead to yours, lips just barely a few millimeters away, “that they’re both equally good options.”

“then would you keep my secret? that i have two lovers at once?”

he laughs, soft and boyish from his chest, with a honeyed sound that fills your heart to the brim so quickly, it skips two beats.

“i believe i can keep it hidden, yes,” he nods.

and just when he leans in to close the gap, you pull away, pressing his shirt to his chest and plastering a devious grin on your face as you snicker.

“wonderful,” you nod in glee, “then you might want to get dressed and make your way to the akademiya. i heard there’s an important meeting today that you simply cannot be late for.”

with that, you saunter out of the bedroom, leaving him to grumble over his unfortunately demanding position that he should not have ever accepted under any circumstance.

i wish to bite him immediately

[badasgirlfriend]

Opposites Attract | Bada Lee Imagine

pairings: slytherin!bada lee x gryffindor!fem!reader

genre: enemies to lovers, hp universe, idk

~part 2~

Y/N sighed in frustration as Professor McGonagall explained the theory behind transfiguration. She truly loved her professor and the subject, but today just wasn't her day.

Y/N whispered to her best friend Eli, who was sitting next to her. "I can't focus,"

Eli nodded in agreement. "Me neither," she said. "I just want to go to my common room and get some rest."

"I can't wait for next week's match," Y/N exclaimed rather loudly, catching the professor's attention but going unnoticed.

Eli smirked. "We will beat your asses," she said.

"In your dreams," Y/N said, rolling her eyes. "How long has it been- two years maybe? Three? That's how long it's been since slytherins defeated us."

"That's because Heesung was captain. You know how bad he was. Now it's Bada, so- "

"Don't mention her"

"We will 100% win," Eli smirked, poking her shoulder, as if attempting to get a reaction from Y/N. "Did I hit a nerve?" Eli asked.

"I will hex you," Y/N threatened, jokingly grabbing her wand. However, seeing Eli's face change to fear, Y/N slowly turned around.

"I don't remember teaching hexes, Miss Y/N," Professor McGonagall said firmly.

"Of course not, professor," the younger girl smiled sweetly. "I was just joking."

"I heard you got in trouble today." Y/N immediately gulped at the mention of today's incident , knowing full well that she was in trouble.

"Minnie- Professor Sprout wasn't being fair," she stated quickly, attempting to defend herself.

"I argued with a Hufflepuff. I might have thrown in some insults- I can't remember," she finished weakly. "That's all I swear."

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "That's all?" she asked in shock. "Yes," Y/N replied.

"Huh, that's new," Professor McGonagall mumbled. "You two. I don't want to see you talking in class anymore. Focus on the notes." Y/N and Eli looked at each other in defeat.

"She's so scary"

"I know"

After an hour of taking notes and practicing transfiguration, class ended. With their different class schedules, Y/N and Eli had to part ways at this point. Y/N was off to Divination, while Eli was heading to History of Magic.

Y/N arrived at the North Tower and immediately spotted Mars, a Ravenclaw that she had grown very close with this year.

"Can I sit with you?" she asked, earning a nod of approval from Mars.

"Yes, of course," Mars replied enthusiastically.

As soon as Y/N sat down, a crystal ball appeared on their desk, much to their surprise.

"Your Jupiter planet seems to be bothered, that means you'll die next year," Mars said, mimicking Professor Trelawny's voice.

"Oh no," Y/N gasped "What a shame," she said sarcastically. "I can't wait though."

Y/N started waving her hands around the crystal ball with a serious expression on her face.

"Damn it," she said. "Ravenclaw will lose to Gryffindor."

Mars pushed Y/N playfully. "Shove off," he continued playfully.

"You don't need to be an expert in Divination to know what happens next," a high-pitched voice said, causing both of them to freeze.

"We both get Outstandings- nevermind we won't," Mars started to say, only to immediately stop as he saw the furious look on the professor's face.

"What's with these professors sneaking up on me today?" Y/N grumbled, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

Y/N strongly disliked Professor Trelawney. Not just because she was unable to excel in Divination, but also because the professor irritated her in many ways. These ways include Trelawney's annoying trait of speaking nonsense

"Miss Y/N, change seats," The professor glanced around, suddenly noticing two Slytherins enter the classroom. "You can sit with Miss Lee,"

The two girls' faces turned into horror the second their eyes met.

"Never"

"Hell no"

"Either change seats, or you both get detention," the professor threatened solemnly.

"Why do I get detention when it's her fault?" Bada rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed at the situation.

"You're late, Miss Lee. Don't act so innocent," the professor said.

Hearing this made Bada snap back into her seat, realizing that protesting further would not do any good.

"It's not looking good for me," Bada mumbled to Mika, who only snickered in reply.

"It's only one class, don't complain," Mika replied.

In response, Bada let out a scoff "With her? It feels like a week."

On the other side of class, Y/N was quietly grabbing her book and muttering curses.

"It can't be that bad"

In response, Y/N whined, pointing at Bada. "It is," she said. "We're talking about her.

"Forgot about your little rivalry," Mars said with a chuckle.

"Pray for me, no actually, pray for her," Y/N muttered to Mars as she got up from her seat and headed to the new spot the professor had assigned for her.

On her way there, she shot Mika a dark look, only to receive a smug smirk in response from the Slytherin girl.

Stupid Slytherins

Without looking at the tall girl, Y/N sat down on the chair and scooted it away from Bada. Almost instantly, a strong, familiar smell wafted in front of Y/N's nose, filling her nostrils with the musky scent mixed with hints of vanilla.

Bada looked up and noticed that Y/N had scooted the chair away from her. Rolling her eyes, she looked away and went back to her work, clearly not caring about Y/N's discomfort.

Bada noticed that Y/N had scooted the chair away from her. Without saying a word, she rolled her eyes at the other girl's obvious discomfort.

She tried, she really did but Bada was simply incapable of keeping quiet in this situation. She simply couldn't sit there without throwing in a word toward the Gryffindor girl.

Since the first time the two of them had met, they had been constantly arguing. This was something that was deeply ingrained in Bada's memory.

Smirking, Bada scooted closer, eager to poke at Y/N's nerves.

"Afraid of me, Y/N?" she asked with a smirk on her face.

Noticing Bada's smirk, Y/N simply pressed her teeth together in annoyance "You wish"

"Then why are you sitting so far away then?" Bada asked, her voice dripping with sass. She then proceeded to grab the chair that Y/N was sitting on and scoot it closer to her table.

Y/N gasped in surprise, turning to face the Slytherin girl. "Are you crazy?"

Putting a finger on her chin, Bada pretended to mull over the question, her thoughts running wild in her head.

"I wouldn't say 'crazy,' per se," Bada said, her words dripping with sass.

"But I would certainly say that I am a little out of touch with the concept of 'personal space' when it comes to you," she continued, her smirk growing wider at that subtle dig.

"I'll bring you back to reality," Y/N hissed as she fully glared at Bada.

"You're nothing but an arrogant bitch who only cares about yourself-"

Bada's face changed just as Y/N's words reached their end. Her smirk from earlier now fell, turning into a scowl as she listened to what Y/N had to say.

"If you looked around more, you'd see that the world doesn't revolve around you and your little friends," Y/N continued.

Both girls were completely focused on their argument, and seemingly didn't notice that their faces were incredibly close together.

"Girls."

Neither Bada or Y/N made a single move. The rest of the class did not break their gazes, as they had become accustomed to the girls' bickers and just waited for things to calm down.

"Girls" the professor repeated and they both turned to glare at the professor

"What" they both said

"Pay attention" the professor said now sitting on the armchair near the fire "Alright my dear children now..."

She lifted her wand, her eyes glowing with a wild intensity. She pointed it towards the table and a tea cup rose into the air. With a flick of her wrist, it flew across the room towards her. "Beware the trap set before you, my dear," she uttered in a low and serious tone, her eyes locking with Y/N's.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, her gaze filling with sudden fear as she processed the professor's words.

"She's insane," she muttered under her breath, her expression turning from confusion to outright dread.

Bada found herself nodding along in agreement, but she quickly shook her head - she couldn't agree with her

"Collect a tea cup from the shelf, come to me and I'll fill it up" the professor continued "then drink it until only the dregs remain, swill the cup three times and give it to your partner to read it"

Bada and Y/N glared at each other after the professor said 'partners'

After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, the girls finally got to the part where their tea leaves would be interpreted. As they swirled the contents of their cups and waited for the professor's words, their glares were still firmly locked on each other

"I'll read yours first," Y/N mumbled as she grabbed Bada's cup with a little force

As she looked into the cup of tea, Y/N felt herself slowly regretting her decision to not skip class. As her eyes tried to make out any figures or forms within the cup of tea leaves, she was met with nothing but disappointment.

"Huh, I don't see-" Y/N stops abruptly, her eyes suddenly catching a glimpse of something among the tea leaves.

Leaning in closer, she tries to make out the shape or image of whatever it might be.

"Oh wait, I see an acorn!" Y/N exclaims as she finally recognizes the shape in the tea leaves.

"It says you'll have a good change in life," she adds, her tone of voice full of surprise and curiosity "Im good at this"

Bada snorted "You suck"

"Alright, let's see you do it then." Y/N raises her brows expectantly, handing Bada the tea cup.

The slytherin takes the tea cup and looks into its contents, her expression suddenly changing.

"What the fuck"

Y/N looks at her with a slight concern. "What?"

"Falcon," Bada suddenly says, her tone of voice full of shock and horror.

"It means death," she adds, her words hanging in the air as Y/N's heart dropped.

Y/N didn't necessarily believe in the meaning of tea leaf readings and other forms of divination, but she had to admit that some of the interpretations of the tea leaves held some truth to them.

"Where do you see that?" she asks worriedly leaning over Bada

Bada couldn't help but hide a laugh as she saw Y/N's worried face.

"Look" Y/N bit her lip, still looking for the falcon among the tea leaves.

"Now I see a wolf," Bada continued

"A wolf?" Y/N repeated, her words filled with a mixture of confusion and fear. She grabbed ber book trying to find the wolf symbol. After the sighting of the falcon in her tea leaves, Y/she expects nothing but bad news.

"It means that the hottest and most intelligent girl in Hogwarts is sitting next to you," Bada laughed, her words causing Y/N to drop her book making the desk shake

As Y/N slowly tilted her head to look at Bada, her expression slowly turned to a grimace, which caused Bada to break into further laughter.

"You bitch, give me that" Y/N snapped at Bada, quickly picking up her tea cup from Bada's hands.

"Avada kedavra yourself,"

"Girls, be quiet," the professor said, as she walked up behind both Bada and Y/N. Both girls flinched at her presence, their eyes widening in surprise "Give me your cup"

"Oh my dear, you have the anchor," the seer broke into a grin

Y/N turned to Bada, her eyes narrowing at her.

"What does that mean?"

"How the fuck would I know?" Bada replied with a slight frown, her voice full of annoyance.

"It means you'll find love," the professor finally replied, her tone still somewhat vague as she handed Y/N the cup.

Y/N stared at her cup, her eyes widening in surprise as she suddenly realized that she could see the anchor. And that made her smile

Bada kept a close eye on Y/N, with every passing second she felt herself growing more and more amused by the sight of Y/N

"Are they smiling?" Mika asked, looking back and forth between Bada and Y/N, their expressions both filled with disbelief.

"I wish I had a camera," Mars said quietly to Mika, unable to contain the laughter that was slowly building up inside of them.

"Ouch!" Bada yelped when Y/N suddenly pinched her.

"What was that for?" she asked with a slight frown

"That was for lying and scaring me." Y/N replied but Bada reached out and tightened her tie

"Motherfu-"

"Y/N stop it!"

"Stop kicking my shin"

"Let me-

"Bada sto-"

Their eyes widened slightly as they heard that shattering sound, their gazes slowly shifting down to the ground.

As they realized that the crystal ball had fallen, Y/N gasped while Bada merely huffed in response.

Professor Trelawney moved closer to the two girls, her expression becoming more and more furious as she looked directly at Y/N and Bada.

"I can see potions class, that means we have detention," Y/N said quickly, taking Bada's cup and speaking as if she had just made the most obvious deduction in the world.

Professor Trelawney's expression shifted to one of annoyance as she heard Y/N's words, her anger slowly starting to fester.

"Detention for you two at 5!" she finally said, her words laced with a slight hint of disdain.

"Amazing," Bada groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "This is all your fault," she continued, turning to Y/N with a slightly frustrated tone.

"My fault?" Y/N scoffed, her tone shifting from casual to defensive as she looked up at Y/N.

"You started this"

"QUIET"

Bada rubbed her neck as she entered the Great Hall, her step slowing slightly as she looked around at the various student's filling the space around her.

It wasn't like she had many classes this day, but the divination class had left her feeling drained and tired

Professor Trelawney could often leave Bada feeling this way, and she found herself wanting to avoid that class at all costs.

"Why do I put myself through this?" she asked herself quietly

"You look like you ran a marathon," Dani suddenly popped up alongside Bada as they made their way towards the Slytherin table.

Bada let out a tired sigh "I wish I did that instead."

"She made her sit with Y/n" Mika exclaims, catching Dani by surprise.

"Are you serious?" Dani laughs and replies with disbelief. "She's got something against Bada, for sure."

"I got detention because of her," Bada explains with a frown

"Well, it's not like you were innocent either," Mika retorts "You were the one who pushed the crystal ball"

"Yoo you did what"

"I don't even care," Bada grumbled, pushing her food away.

"You're obsessed with her" Eli's voice spoke in front of her.

"Of course you would say that." Bada replied, facing Eli. "You're her best friend"

"I'm just telling you the truth." Eli shrugged, keeping her arms crossed in front of her.

"Stop that smirk, I know what goes on in your mind." Bada pointed her fork in Eli's direction.

"Yeah, whatever," Eli waved a hand dismissively. "I just came to talk about practice.

At the mention of quidditch Bada's eyes lit up "Tomorrow after classes, I talked to Snape he got us the pitch"

"Oh, so he is useful," Eli rolled her eyes.

Bada nodded, understanding that most Slytherins, including herself, weren't the biggest fans of Professor Snape. As the head of their house, though, he could grant special favors like the Quidditch pitch for practice or never taking points

"I'm kinda stressed about the game next week," Lila confided.

"Pff, why?" Bada smirked and waved a hand dismissively, clearly not understanding Lila's stress. "It's Gryffindor, come on," she replied.

Lila narrowed her eyes at Bada. "It's Gryffindor, You and I both know that they have excellent players. Especially with Y/N being captain. We can't underestimate them and go in with a cocky attitude."

"What's so special about Y/N being a captain?" Bada hissed. Y/N this Y/N that, Bada was tired of jer

"I thought you'd know by now," Eli remarked with a shrug. "You're always watching Y/N play," she added with a smirk.

"That's not true"

Lila spoke up, "It's true"

Bada turned to Dani, frowning. "Dani? I might need a little help here."

Dani didn't hesitate to turn the tables on Bada, giving her a sympathetic smile. "Sorry, I'm with them on this one," she replied.

Bada let out a frustrated sigh as she spoke. "Fine, okay, but it was only because I wanted to see the strategies she uses," she said.

She took a treacle tart from the table, her friends' eyes watching her closely. As she raised her head and saw their eyes staring straight at her, she felt herself freeze. "What?"

"Did yall hear that"

"Pfft strategies"

"It's 5:12"

"Is she really trying to lie to us"

"Five-twelve, Professor Trelawney is going to kill me," she mumbled as she tried her best to devour the entire tart in a single bite. "I- go- bye," she added, waving a hand dismissively and running off to try to get to the dungeons

She wasn't the type of person to worry about getting detention, but now that she was captain and a prefect, she hated the fact that she had to be on her best behavior. Upon seeing the dark door at the end of the hall, Bads took a deep breath and gave herself a moment to prepare before entering.

As the strong scent of potions hit Bada's nose, she had to try her best to keep herself from gagging. She noticed with dread the familiar Gryffindor sitting across from Professor Trelawney, upon hearing the cracking sound of the door, the two heads turned to face her

"You're late, Miss Bada," Professor Trelawney exclaimed, her hands on her hips.

"Sorry, Professor," Bada replied with a sweet smile. "I got held up talking to Prof Snape."

A loud sound was heard and Snape stepped away from the shelves in the corner of the room, holding some potions. His expression remained impassive, as always.

"Oh really?"

The slytherin girl quickly corrected herself, her eyes darting around the office. "What I meant to say was that I was trying to find Professor Snape, which was unsuccessful, as you can see," she continued, speaking quickly before the professor could interrupt. "That's- why I was late."

Y/N's eyes narrowed as she heard Bada's feeble excuse, but she remained silent. A low snort escaped her lips before she turned her attention back to Professor Trelawney

"You have an hour detention," Professor Trelawney stated "I want you to clean this class and also rearrange the potions according to their correct labels."

Bada's eyes widened as the seer continued. "Professor Snape will check with me later to make sure that you didn't use any wands"

"That's not fair!" Y/N spoke up, her tone whiny.

"At least make it 30 minutes," she continued, sounding desperate.

Professor Trelawney gave her a disapproving look before replying, "Wanna make it two hours?"

Bada quickly grabbed a broom, her expression sullen as she tried to hide her frustration. "Let's get it over with," she muttered, and began the tedious-sounding task.

The two girls handed over their wands to Snape, and the two professors left the class.

With Professor Trelawney and Professor Snape out of sight, Y/N turned to Bada "Unbelievable," she grumbled.

"I know," Bada replied.

Y/N heard a crack at the sharp turn of her head, and turned her eyes to face Bada. "Stop agreeing with me,"

With a huff of annoyance, Bada began cleaning the floor. "Fine, I wish she gave us two hours then,"

No one spoke as they cleaned the room. The only sounds that could be heard were the broom sweeping across the floor and the soft sound of cauldrons being handled in the distance.

Y/N was gently cleaning the cauldrons, glancing with curiosity at Bada's appearance.

The Slytherin's hair was tied up in a low ponytail, her bangs in a slightly messy state. She rarely wore the uniform correctly, but today, it felt different to Y/N.

Bada's shirt hung low around her frame, and the green tie laid loose. The Slytherin's appearance caught Y/N's eye for a moment, as if she found Bads attractive. Though she would never have said it out loud,

Y/N was the opposite of her, with her uniform always put together and looking proper.

She wasn't used to being alone with the Slytherin girl, and as a result, she felt somewhat uncomfortable with the silence. In an attempt to lessen her nerves, she cleared her throat and asked, "What's your favorite color?"

"Are you for real?" Bada's face turned up towards Y/N as she spoke.

The Gryffindor gave her an annoyed glance, "Well, it's a simple question," she explained. "Mine is red."

Bads smirked slightly, one eyebrow raising in amusement. "Very Gryffindor of you," she repeated, a slight edge to her voice as she turned back to sweeping the floor.

"So...?" Y/N trailed off as she continued to sweep. Her eyes were fixed on the floor, but she listened carefully as Bads answered the question.

The Slytherin's voice was quiet, but her tone was confident as she replied, "Green."

Y/N smiled, repeating Bada's words "Very Slytherin of you," she teased, making the other girl smile slightly in response.

"Your turn"

Bada's face was full of annoyance as her eyes went to Y/N. She let out a loud sigh as she spoke, her frustration already running high. "What are your strategies for the next game?"

Y/N dropped the cauldron. "Hey, simple questions," she replied, her voice a bit higher than usual.

"Your favorite professor?"

"Minnie"

"Your strategies for the next game?"

"To beat you," Y/N replied, moving over to the various tools that had been left out.

Bada dropped the broom, feeling a bit frustrated with the detention. She was now seated in front of Y/N, watching the Gryffindor in close proximity. "Hey, I tried," she shrugged

"What are you doing?" Y/N looked up at Bada, her expression revealing her disbelief.

Bads narrowed her eyes, looking irritated as she responded, "Staring."

Y/N couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes. "Oh, thank you for your clear answer," she said sarcastically. "I never would have known that on my own. Why aren't you cleaning?"

"Oh, come on, Y/N," Bada huffed. "I'm not gonna clean the entire class," she complained as she looked around the classroom. "Look how big it is,"

"I don't care," Y/N responded quickly, putting the tools and rag in front of her. "You won't get in trouble with Snape, but I will, so start."

"Or what" Bada challenged waiting for her reaction

"You might regret it" her mouth turned into a playful grin

Without waiting for an answer, Y/N headed towards the small storeroom in the corner, struggling to carry five different potions. Bada, however, was too busy admiring Y/N to bother helping her.

The Slytherin's eyes roamed Y/N's entire body, taking in the way her skirts hugged her hips and the length of her legs. There was something enticing about the way she carried herself, something that made her want to keep staring. Bads even wondered how her body would feel against hers, what it would be like to touch her skin and run her fingers over her curves

Bada's eyes travelled to Y/N's face, unable to deny that she was one of the most beautiful girls in Hogwarts. Even though they had a bit of a competition going on, Bada couldn't help but notice how captivating Y/N was. The shorter girl's facial features were beyond compare, with sharp eyes that cut through the air and high cheekbones that added a touch of elegance to her appearance. Bada thought to herself: If anyone was the most beautiful girl at Hogwarts, it had to be Y/N.

"Are you even listening to me?" Y/N's voice snapped Bada back into reality.

"Well, yeah," she replied, sounding a bit unsure of whether or not she was actually being truthful.

"Doesn't seem like it," Y/N repeated with a mischievous smile. "Come help me hold the door. Just don't let it close otherwise can't go out"

The Gryffindor rolled her eyes at the charm that Professor Snape had put in place. In case the door locks no one from inside can open it. While it was annoying, it was also smart.

With a heavy sigh, Bada moved towards the small closet, stomping along the way. She walked past Y/N and held the doors open, determined not to talk to the Gryffindor any more than necessary.

Y/N stood now inside the closet, on top of a chair putting various potions away. She had to wonder just how long it would take them to clean up the whole of Potions class. At least now they had each other's help.

"Work faster," Bada grumbled, leaning against the door. Her eyes were fixed on Y/N

"I'm sorry, I'm the one doing everything here," Y/N answered, turning to look at tall girl. She was surprised by the Slytherin's attitude, but wasn't about to back down from a fight.

"Excuse me?"

Y/N narrowed her eyes at Bada, she wasn't paying attention to where she was placing the potion. With a quick motion, the Gryffindor moved the vial towards the shelf, accidentally missing and knocking it over. The fall caused her to lose her balance, and Bada's eyes widened as she saw the incident happen.

"Fuck- DON'T"

"YO"

Bada quickly left her place, seeing Y/N lose her balance. She didn't hesitate to reach out to catch the Gryffindor before she fell, but the moment she did, the door of the closet unexpectedly closed. The darkness felt stiflingly close and Bads felt a twinge of panic

Y/N's heart felt like it was about to burst inside her chest. She couldn't decide which part of the situation was causing her heart to pound: the fact that they were now stuck in the closet, the fall itself, or the feeling of Bada holding her bridal style.

The darkness wasn't overwhelming, but thanks to a crack in the door, there was just enough light for Y/N to see Bada's face clearly.

"Um," Y/N started, and Bada's eyes went to hers in an instant.

In a sheer panic, the Slytherin hadn't realized just how close their faces were until it was too late. Y/N had her arms wrapped around the older girl's neck and Bada was holding her tightly.

Both of them found themselves rooted to the spot, their eyes locked on the other. Neither one could find the strength or energy to pull away from the close proximity they found themselves in, both feeling trapped in the moment.

Y/N's gaze darted to Bada's parted lips for a quick second, and for that split moment, a surge of heat travelled through her body. She quickly looked back up, her eyes focused on Bada's face.

Why did she like the feeling of being this close to her

Bada felt like she was going crazy as well. Her stomach was in knots and her knees were weak. She could feel the warmth of Y/N's breath on her face, a closeness she was starting to find herself enjoying. She was sure she was losing her mind because she knew Y/N hated her, just like Bada hated Y/N

If they hated each other so much, why did she find herself imagining what it would be like to taste the girl she despited so much ? Bada was sure she was going insane, the mere thought of being intimate with Y/N ridiculous and unthinkable. And yet, there she was, imagining what Y/N's lips would be like against her own.

"What the hell!" the taller girl yelled, dropping Y/N to the ground without even warning her.

"Why the fuck did you just drop me?"

"Why'd you pinch me?"

The girls immediately reverted back to their previous hostile and combative state, looking at each other with daggers in their eyes. It didn't take much to get them worked up and pissed off at one another, especially when it came to the tiniest of infractions.

Y/N got up, dusting off her now-dirty skirt while trying to salvage whatever dignity she had left "It's all your fault"

Laughter filled the room as Bada held up her hands in defense. "Me? Who decided to twirl on the chair, hmm?"

Y/N was furious. "Because you wouldn't help," she snapped at Bada.

Bada scoffed and shook her head. "Don't put it on me now, when it's clearly your fault," she said.

Y/N balled her hands into fists. "I'm not doing this with you," she said, frustrated. "Just forget it. Whatever, it doesn't matter."

"It does matter," Bada muttered, leaning back against the wooden wall. Despite the distance between them, her body was still close to Y/N's. "We are stuck here until Snape comes"

Y/N hated small spaces, but she had no choice but to suck it up. There was no way she was going to let Bada know about her claustrophobia. She knew she'd never hear the end of it. Even now, as she squeezed herself into a tiny space, she could almost feel Bada's mocking gaze on her.

"So what's your favorite number"

"Don't even start"

Y/N sighed and looked away. "I'm trying to make this less boring," she said, trying to hide her frustration.

"Well, don't," Bada replied, her tone still cold. "You're making it worse."

"You're such a bitch," Y/N said and Bada only smirked in response.

"Im honored," Bada replied with a small curtsey, her sarcasm apparent.

"You look like an idiot"

"You are one"

"Jump off a cliff"

"You're such a sad case"

"You jerk"

"Snooty bitch"

The two girls' mouths never stopped throwing curses at each other. Y/N was so caught up in her anger that she didn't realize how close she now was to Bada.

Bada was feeling the same anger, even if she wasn't showing it. Her eyes were flashing with defiance as she continued to hurl invective at Y/N. They were both consumed by the moment, completely caught up in their emotions.

Suddenly, Bada stepped closer, pressing up against Y/N.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise as she suddenly realized how close she was to Bada. She had been so caught up in the moment that she hadn't noticed their proximity until now. Despite her shock, she didn't move away.

Bada didn't notice how she had pinned Y/N against the wall. Despite her frustration, she found herself taking in every moment of Y/N's features. The full lips, sharp eyes, and plush hair - everything was so enticing.

They stood inches apart, pressed together by Bada's arms. She felt the heat rise to her cheeks as she remained transfixed by Y/N's beauty.

She didn't move, she didn't want to move

No words were spoken, but every look spoke a thousand emotions. Just a week ago, Y/N would've laughed at the idea of this position - trapped under the one she hated the most.

But now, she wasn't sure. Could she still call it hate?

"Bada..?" Bada felt her knees threatening to give out as Y/N's gaze settled on her.

Y/N's lips were slightly parted, her breath coming out in short, sharp inhales. Her eyes were wide, like those of a deer caught in the headlights, completely enthralled by her.

"Yeah.."

They were leaning closer, both wanting this so much to their own surprise. Their noses touched, and the air between them was suddenly alive with a tingling energy.

This is it, Y/N thought to herself, this is where she loses her sanity

She closed her eyes, trying to focus on slowing down her pounding heart. But it was useless; her heart continued to race, and every thought she tried to control went out the window as she gave in to her feelings.

Y/N's heart was racing as their lips brushed, but she couldn't contain her excitement for long. She almost whined at the older girl's teasing.

"What in the world are you two doing?"

Y/N and Bada quickly separated from each other when a piercing voice interrupted their moment. Bada's eyes darted to the potions professor who was glaring at them. Y/N stepped back in dismay, her face red with embarrassment.

This was going just great

Y/N gulped as her mind went blank. She had no idea what to say, and she hoped that the girl in front of her took the lead

She looked over at Bada who was avoiding her gaze. "We got stuck..." Bada said, trailing off. She seemed to be searching for words but had none to say.

"I can see that," the professor said slowly, his voice clipped and sharp. He took a few steps backward but continued to glare at them.

"I suggest you two leave," he added with a cold glance.

The professor didn't need to say any more. Y/N and Bada quickly exited the closet, their heads hung low in shame. Y/N grabbed her bag and took off, running away from the awkward situation. She didn't want to face Bada, and she had no idea what to say to her.

Y/N only wished that the next few days would pass without any mention of what had happened. She wanted to forget, to pretend that everything was the same as it was before.

But that might be a pipe dream, as her mind kept going back to that moment. And the thought of seeing Bada again made her heart flutter, reminding her that she couldn't ignore her new feelings so easily.

Bada was still sitting in class when the professor told her to wait. She was shaking, filled with anxiety and nerves. She knew that the professor wasn't dumb, and he must have known what was going on

"Miss Lee"

Bada snapped her attention to the professor who hadn't lost his stern glare. "Yes, Professor," she responded, making sure her voice didn't shake in fear.

The professor remained silent for a moment, his gaze piercing and critical. Finally, he said, "I hope you know that whatever you two were about to do isn't right"

Bada gulped, but she was determined not to back down. "We weren't doing anything, sir," she said, her voice shaky yet defiant. "The closet is small as you can see, so we had to squish in a little closer."

The professor's eyes narrowed, and he took a step towards her. "If you say so, Miss Lee." he said in a cold tone. "I only need to send an owl for your parents to be here."

Bada felt a chill run down her spine as she realized how vulnerable she was in this situation.

"Like I said," she repeated with an equally firm glare. "It was nothing."

"Good, you can leave now"

Bada didn't hesitate. She grabbed her bag and rushed out. Her fingers were shaking. Telling her parents? Hell no, she thought to herself.

She had already gone through hell and back at home, and she didn't need much more of that stress on her plate. Her parents would lose their minds if they found out that she almost kissed a girl. They would kill her

Kissing Y/N... She wasn't about to kiss her right...?

Bada's mind was racing with excuses to convince herself that what had happened between her and Y/N meant nothing. But every excuse fell flat.

She hated Y/N. Y/N hated her. That's how it always was... Even those excuses no longer made sense. She couldn't stop thinking about Y/N; she couldn't stop longing for Y/N's lips on hers again.

But was it hate that she felt all these years towards Y/N?