#you know the triangles and circles when you see them

[meadowfics]

hot sands

kim young-mi x f!reader

this is chapter three for my BLOOMING FLOWER SERIES

synopsis: you reunite with young-mi amidst the carnage.

warnings: death, violence, angst

there was an eerie silence that replaced the blaring orchestra from earlier. all 456 players shuffle out of the warehouse dorms, curious as to what games they’ll be playing. 

your green tracksuit feels stiff against your skin, the fabric itching where it clings to your arms. you keep scratching at it, your sensitive skin hating the polyester. 

the air in the dorm was thick with the smell of sweat and disgusting cologne. luckily, you never had to be around men much and deal with their smells, but it seems like they’ll be bothering you here for the next week. 

now, as you step into the corridor beyond, a new kind of unease settles in your chest. 

your intuition is screaming again, louder than ever. the pink-suited guards, their faces hidden behind masks marked with circles, triangles, and squares, line the walls. one thing you noticed is how the triangle guards carried bigger guns. however, their silence is more unsettling than any other command. 

one of them, a circle-masked figure, steps forward. they give a speech about thanking everyone for their participation, while you zone out staring at your chewed up fingernails. 

after some time, maybe ten minutes, they gesture toward a table where stacks of contracts sit, each one a single sheet of paper with fine print you can barely read under the fluorescent lights. 

you join the line forming in front of the tables, your heart thudding as you scan the room. the other players are a mix of faces….some young, some old, some defiant, others already crumbling under the weight of what’s to come. 

you spot the woman from earlier, number 044, her eyeliner still sharp, her smirk gone but her eyes darting with the same knowing glint. 

she signs her contract without hesitation, her pen moving in quick, deliberate strokes, and you wonder what she knows that you don’t.

when it’s your turn. 

you step up, the guard handing you a pen that feels too heavy in your hand. the contract is simple…too simple. it lists your number, 112, and states that you agree to participate in six games, that you waive certain rights, you cannot refuse to play a game, and that the prize money will be disclosed after the first game. 

that last part doesn’t sit right with you. 

why hide the prize? 

why the secrecy? 

you glance at the guard, their triangle mask giving nothing away, and your paranoia spikes. you’re always like this, you tell yourself, overthinking, seeing threats where there might be none. 

the memory of the recruiter in the suit, his cold smile and the way he knew your name, lingers like a bruise. 

you sign anyway, your signature shaky, and hand the paper back. 

the guard’s gloved hand brushed yours as they take it.

“proceed to the next area,” the guard says, pointing to a corridor. you walk ahead outside of the doors into an area that stretches endlessly, its walls painted in garish pinks, blues, and yellows. the colors are jarring, like a child’s drawing brought to life, but there’s something dystopian about it, like those unsettling backroom images you’ve scrolled past on instagram late at night—empty, too bright, too wrong. 

theres so many stairs, and you feel hollow. your body is full with a strange mix of adrenaline and dread. the bottle of water you drank at the convenience store before the van took you feels like a distant memory, but it’s keeping you sharp. 

it helps with your senses heightened as you join the slow-moving line of players.

the corridor narrows, and you hear flashes and clicks ahead, the sound sharp against the murmur of nervous voices. 

you round a corner and see a photo station… a pink area, a camera, and another pink-suited guard, this one with a square mask, leading players in front of the camera lens. 

great, you think, your stomach sinking. 

you didn’t sign up for a photoshoot. you haven’t slept properly in days thanks to the diner, and the mascara you slapped on last night is probably clumped, your eyelashes sticking together in a way that makes you look half-dead. 

your eye bags, heavy from stress and sleepless nights worrying about young-mi and the loan sharks, must be dark as coal. 

you run a hand through your hair, smoothing down flyaways, but there’s no mirror, no way to check how rough you look.

“player step forward,” a feminine robotic voice announces from a speaker above the camera. 

you hesitate, then move into place, standing on the marked spot in front of the screen. you feel exposed, like a specimen under a microscope. 

“please look into the camera,” the feminine voice says, its tone flat but insistent. you force a small smile, barely a curve of your lips, and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, hoping you don’t look as wrecked as you feel. 

the voice speaks again. 

“smile.” you widen your smile, feeling ridiculous, and the camera clicks, the flash blinding you for a split second. 

before you can blink away the spots in your vision, the guard gestures you forward. 

“move along,” they say, already waving the next player into place.

you step away, your cheeks burning…not from embarrassment but from the absurdity of it all. 

a photo? 

for what? 

your mind races, conjuring images of those pictures plastered somewhere sinister on a wall, or in a file, or worse. you shake it off, blaming your paranoia again, and join the line heading toward a staircase. 

the stairs are steep, winding upward in a spiral that feels endless. 

this place couldn’t afford escalators? 

how the hell were they gonna pay us money if we win the games? 

you think, a bitter edge to your thoughts. 

you’re fit enough, your legs are strong from walking everywhere in sillim-dong, but climbing right before whatever “game” awaits doesn’t feel ideal. your breath comes faster, not from exertion but from the growing sense that you’re walking into something you can’t control.

as you climb, you glance around, the colorful walls closing in. the pinks and blues swirl together, almost dizzying, and you’re hit with a strange wave of nostalgia you can’t place. 

it’s like stepping into a warped version of a childhood memory…a playground, maybe, or a carnival you went to as a kid, the colors bright but tinged with something off, something that makes your skin prickle. 

the players ahead and behind you are quiet now, their footsteps echoing in the stairwell, the only sound besides the faint hum of the lights above. you reach the top, a wide platform where everyone gathers, waiting for a set of massive double doors. 

they’re painted dark green, the color stark against the pastel walls, and they’re closed tight, no hint of what’s beyond.

you stand near the back of the crowd, your fingers picking nervously at your nails, a habit you’ve never shaken. 

the other players shift restlessly, some whispering, others staring blankly ahead. number 044 is a few feet away, her arms crossed, her eyes scanning the group like she’s sizing everyone up. you avoid her gaze, not ready for another cryptic conversation. 

your thoughts drift to young-mi, to the way she kissed you before you left, her hands clinging to your hoodie. 

she must be frantic by now, checking every corner of sillim-dong, calling your dead phone. 

you wish you could tell her you’re okay, even if you’re not sure you are. 

the card, the van, the gas…it’s all spiraling into something bigger, something your intuition warned you about from the start.

the doors loom ahead, silent, and you feel the weight of 456 pairs of eyes fixed on them. your heart pounds, your nails bitten down to the quick. 

whatever’s behind those doors, it’s not just a game. 

you know it, deep in your bones, the same way you knew the man in the suit was trouble. 

you take a deep breath, the air tasting metallic.

the green doors creak open, and a blinding flood of sunlight pours through, stinging your eyes after the dim fluorescence of the warehouse. you squint, stepping out into an open field, the ground beneath your boots crunching with thin, gritty gravel that mimics sand but feels sharper, biting into the soles of your green tracksuit. 

the air is warm, heavy with a dry heat that clings to your skin, and you blink to adjust, your heart thudding as you take in the scene. 

two hundred feet away stands a massive doll, its painted face eerie and unblinking, its oversized head tilted slightly, dressed in a frilly orange dress that should’ve swayed in the faint breeze if it wasn’t mechanical. 

its eyes are too large, too lifeless, and the sight sends a shiver down your spine. 

pink-suited guards, their masks marked with triangles, flank the doll, their silence more menacing than the guns slung across their chests. 

the field stretches wide, unnaturally open, bordered by high walls that curve upward like a cage. 

the feminine robotic voice crackles through hidden speakers, cutting through the murmurs. 

“welcome to the first game: red light, green light.” 

you sigh, a flicker of relief mixing with your dread. you know this game….childhood memories of running and freezing in your schoolyard, laughter echoing as you outran your friends. 

it’s been years, but your reflexes are sharp, honed by years of dodging drunk customers at the diner and weaving through sillim-dong’s crowded streets. 

you can do this. 

you have to. 

for young-mi.

for a chance to pay off your debt.

before you can settle into the thought, someone shoves you. 

it was gentle but urgent, pushing you to the side as they sprint toward the front. 

you stumble, catching yourself, and look up to see a man, number 456 stamped on his green jacket, charging forward. he stops near the doll, turning to face the crowd, his arms waving wildly. 

“hey!! listen carefully!” he yells, his voice raw with desperation. 

every head turns, confusion rippling through the players. 

you cross your arms, eyebrows flaring, wondering what the hell this guy wants. 

is he drunk? 

you’ve seen enough late-night regulars at the diner to know the signs, but his words are clear, his eyes wide with an alertness that borders on panic.

“this is not just a game!” he shouts, his voice carrying over the sandy gravel. 

a few players mutter “huh?” to themselves, their faces a mix of skepticism and fear. you tilt your head, studying him. he doesn’t seem drunk…just frantic, like he’s seen something you haven’t.

“if you lose the game—” he continues, his voice cracking, “you die!” 

gasps erupt, sharp and scattered, while others laugh, the sound nervous and hollow. a woman near you, her number 278, steps forward, her voice sharp. 

“are you serious? are you saying that we will die if we move when we are not supposed to?”

“yes, that’s right!” 456 responds, his hands still waving, his face flushed. 

“if they catch you moving, they will kill you! they will shoot you from somewhere above!” you follow his gaze upward, squinting at the walls. high above, barely visible, are small holes…too precise, too evenly spaced. 

your eyes widen, your breath catching. 

gun ports? 

your intuition flares, that sickening twist in your gut you’ve learned to trust, even when you hate it. you look back at 456, his words sinking in. 

he’s not joking. you don’t want to believe him, don’t want to think this game could mean death, but the urgency in his voice, the way he’s pleading, chips away at your doubt. 

still, a part of you wonders if he’s playing an angel, trying to scare everyone into hesitating so he can win whatever prize is at stake.

“the doll’s eyes are motion detectors!” 456 yells in panic, pointing at the towering figure. 

“stay on your toes!” 

you glance at the doll, its lifeless eyes glinting in the sunlight, and a memory flashes…secondary school, playing football, your coach barking at you to keep your feet light, never planting them unless you meant to stop cold. 

you shift your weight, testing your balance, readying yourself to move and freeze on command.

the robotic voice returns, calm and chilling. 

“the game will begin in five minutes. when the doll says ‘green light,’ move forward. when it says ‘red light,’ stop. if you are caught moving, you will be eliminated. reach the finish line within the time limit.” 

the doll’s head turns with a mechanical whir, its hand rising to clutch a tree prop, its painted face staring blankly across the field. a timer above the doll clicks on, glowing red: 

5:00.

you take a deep breath, your body buzzing with adrenaline, your mind racing. 

you want to rest, to collapse onto the gravel and wake up back in your apartment with young-mi, but there’s no escape. the players spread out, forming a loose line, and you position yourself near the front, your eyes on 456, who’s already inching forward, his movements sharp and calculated. 

you mimic him, keeping your knees soft, your weight on your toes. the doll’s voice cuts through the air, high and childish. 

“green light!”

you move, your boots crunching against the gravel, your eyes locked on the doll. it’s a surreal sight, this giant figure in a frilly dress, its head swiveling to face away from you. 

you’re fast, your reflexes kicking in, and you cover ground quickly, staying just behind 456.

 he’s orchestrating the crowd, shouting “move!” when it’s green, his voice a lifeline in the chaos. 

“red light!” the doll calls, and you freeze, your body rigid, your breath held. 

you’re a quarter across the field, the finish line…a white line painted on the gravel…still a good distance away.

after another ‘green light, red light’ ordeal… a scream pierces the air, sharp and panicked, followed by a faint buzzing, like a bee darting past. 

you think it’s nothing, just someone freaking out over their fear of bees, but then a loud bang splits the silence, and your nerves jolt. 

you freeze harder, your heart slamming against your ribs. 

another scream, another bang. 

your eyes widen, your body locked in place as more screams erupt behind you, a cascade of terror and carnage. 

gunshots…sharp, rapid, unmistakable…rain down from above, and you don’t dare turn to look even though you can see them flying from your peripheral vision.

you can’t. 

the doll’s eyes are watching, and 456’s warning echoes in your head. 

if you move, you die.

“green light!” the doll calls, and you surge forward, your legs burning, your mind a haze of fear. 

456 is still ahead, shouting, “we’re running out of time! we’ve got to move!” you glance at the timer…three minutes left. 

players form a tighter line, now vertical instead of horizontal with their footsteps frantic, and you’re at the front, your breath ragged but controlled. 

a tall woman behind you, number 101, moves steadily, her presence calm but focused. 

you’re grateful she’s not the type to shove or panic, unlike the chaos unfolding behind you.

you’re almost at the finish line when the doll calls “red light!” again. 

you freeze, your body swaying slightly but steady, your eyes fixed on the doll. 

the rapid gunshots have stopped, replaced with singular ones as people started understanding that ‘fight or flight’ cannot work here. however, the air is heavy with the aftermath…sobs, gasps, the faint thud of bodies hitting the gravel. 

you don’t look back. 

you can’t. your focus is on the line, on surviving, on getting back home to young-mi alive.

“green light!” you sprint, crossing the finish line with a stumble, your chest heaving as you stop. 

you made it. 

you wipe your face with your hands, the sweat stinging your eyes, and finally let yourself look back. 

the field is a graveyard, bodies scattered across the gravel, their green tracksuits stained red. your hands shake, your knees weak as the reality sinks in. 

456 was right. this is no game.

this is a slaughter.

your eyes scan the survivors, your heart lurching as you spot a figure behind a skinny man, 

number 095.

she’s crying, her shoulders shaking, her green tracksuit marked with 095 even tho you cannot quite see her face since her frozen small hands are covering her face. 

you know that cry, those soft, broken sobs you’ve held through countless nights, comforting young-mi after her parents’ death. 

your heart sinks to your feet, a cold dread washing over you. 

it’s her.

young-mi, bug-eyed and terrified, her face pale as she clutches the man in front of her for cover. 

she’s seen you too, her eyes locking onto your back the entire game, wide with fear and recognition.

you don’t think. t

he doll calls “green light!” and you’re running back, ignoring the timer, the protests from players asking if you’re crazy, the guards, the doll’s unblinking eyes. 

your only thought is young-mi, your need to protect her overwhelming every instinct. 

you weave through players, your boots pounding the gravel, and reach her just as “red light!” echoes. 

you freeze beside her, your arm around her waist, her body trembling against yours. 

young-mi’s hands are gripping your jacket, her sobs muffled against your chest. 

“y/n,” she whispers very quietly, her voice breaking, “you’re here.”

“i’ve got you,” you murmur, your voice fierce despite the fear clawing at you. 

you glance at the timer…one minute left. 

“green light!” you move together, half-carrying her, your arms locked around her as you both run, your feet barely touching the gravel. you’re not letting her go, not now, not ever. 

young-mi’s warmth, her weight against you, is everything…the love you’ve carried since that party at sejong university, the protectiveness that’s driven you to shield her from the world’s cruelty. 

you’ll die before you let this evil place take her.

“red light!” you freeze again, young-mi’s breath hitching as she clings to you. 

young-mi’s eyes are red, her face streaked with tears, but she’s holding on, trusting you like she always has. 

“green light!” you sprint the final stretch, crossing the finish line with her in your arms, just as the timer hits twenty seconds. 

you collapse together on the hot sand, the heat searing through your tracksuit. 

young-mi hugs you so hard it hurts, her arms tight around your neck, her sobs shaking you both. you hold her just as fiercely, your hands tangled in her hair, kissing the top of her forehead. 

“i’m here,” you whisper with your voice cracking, “i’m not letting you go.”

she’s terrified, her body trembling, her eyes wide with the horror of what she’s seen. 

you’re exhausted, your suspicions confirmed in the worst way.

your intuition was right. 

paranoid, my ass. you thought. 

this place is death. 

you pull youngmi closer, your love for her a silence in the chaos. 

your need to protect her is stronger than ever. 

you’ll ask her later how she got here, why she’s number 095, what card she held in secret. 

for now, you just hold her, the gravel hot beneath you, the doll’s eerie face watching from across the field.

you didn’t even notice the broken sole on the left side of your right shoe.

chapter four linked here

full series masterlist linked here

[imhalfplastic]

some stories aren’t yours

⊹ overview - pairing: wonwoo x mingyu x f!reader | short fic genre: love triangle (but the love interests end up with each other) · fluff

themes: emotional detachment, mutual pining (just not for you), third-wheeling cw: implied past flirtation, gentle romantic rejection

summary: a love triangle where the girl doesn’t get the guy. or the other guy. instead, both fall for each other. slowly and awkwardly while she watches it all unfold like a plot twist she accidentally directed.

from kai: my first request! someone asked me to write something inspired by those reverse trope writing prompts with minwon and this one felt like it fit them the best. i really loved writing this silly little story! i had so much fun with it, even though i struggled to find a song that really matched the vibe (still not sure i chose the right one). any recs? i’m all ears.

now playing: can i call you tonight? - dayglow

so technically, you were supposed to be the main character.

it made sense. 

mingyu was clearly into you. 

he always texts you first. a random meme, followed by a “this reminded me of you” that makes you stare at your screen a little too long. he's all sunshine and chaos and way too much cologne. but he listens when you talk and remembers the tiniest things. he once showed up at your door with your favorite snack after a rough week, like it was no big deal. it kind of is.

you think: this could be something.

but then there's wonwoo. quieter. more subtle. he sends you playlists instead of memes, walks you home when it rains, doesn’t say much but always says the right thing. he remembers your cat’s name. asks how your mom is doing. texts like he means every word.

you think: oh. maybe it’s him.

and for a while, it’s both.

they’re also your friends. which complicates absolutely everything.

and so the joke becomes... not a joke. not really. 

just something you all keep circling around. drinks on a friday night, someone goes “okay but if this were a rom-com...” and someone else immediately groans. mingyu buys you coffee. wonwoo texts you about that weird movie you said you liked. they both show up when you need help moving your couch.

you flirt. a little. 

they flirt back. more than a little.

you’re not immune. 

but you’re also not delusional.

so you’re in the middle, two equally attractive but emotionally unavailable men gravitating toward you like it’s netflix and you’re the plot device.

people ask. so, who’s it gonna be?

and you honestly didn’t know.

mingyu makes you laugh until your stomach hurt. wonwoo makes you think about things you didn’t know you cared about. both of them make you feel like something might be about to happen.

and you are happy. because it does feel a little like a love triangle.

you're the common denominator. 

the center of gravity. you’re not leading anyone on. 

you’re just… seeing where things go.

and they’re both going. toward you. clearly. until they’re not.

it’s not like it's obvious. you’re just… extremely observant.

and maybe a little too aware of patterns.

like how mingyu starts showing up in photos with wonwoo’s cat. like how wonwoo starts driving mingyu home without being asked. like how they start arguing about trivial things like what kind of soy milk is superior and it sounds suspiciously like foreplay.

you don’t say anything. you just watch.

you shift from romantic lead to honorary producer. this is your rom-com now, just not in the way you expected. you get front-row seats to whatever this slow-motion pining is.

and honestly? it’s hilarious. especially when neither of them seems to realize it’s happening.

so you start keeping mental score.

wonwoo shows up with coffee for mingyu like it’s instinct: +1

mingyu tells wonwoo he looks good in blue: +1

they argue over who gets the last dumpling and then split it like an old married couple: +4

mingyu calls wonwoo “darling” by accident (you think): +10

at some point, it just becomes entertaining. you’re just sitting with the audience with popcorn, waiting for the kiss scene.

and then there’s the hoodie situation. wonwoo wears one that looks suspiciously like mingyu's. oversized, dark gray, fraying a little at the cuffs. you say something about it, just to test the waters. and wonwoo freezes for half a second before going “uh. laundry day.”

“sure.” you say, sipping your drink.

“just make sure your boyfriend gets it back.”

wonwoo, without missing a beat says:

“it's not from a boyfriend. just from mingyu.”

mingyu just shrugs.

the best part is how natural it is after.

you thought it might sting. it doesn’t. you thought it might get awkward. it doesn’t.

if anything, it gets funnier. they’re still idiots. just idiots in love now.

they drag you to brunch like nothing’s changed. still text you memes at 2am. still call you when they’re fighting about whether or not a hotdog is a sandwich.

you get used to seeing them shoulder to shoulder. used to watching mingyu tug the hood of wonwoo’s sweatshirt up when the wind picks up, then keep talking like nothing happened. used to wonwoo smiling at his phone like he’s reading poetry when it’s just mingyu’s “u up?” text with eight typos.

you start making bets with yourself about how long until they go fully official. (you win when mingyu soft-launches a couple photo and captions it: i guess i’m the boyfriend now.)

months later, someone asks if you ever had feelings for them. if it was hard watching them fall for each other. you think about it for a second.

about mingyu’s terrible jokes. wonwoo’s deadpan delivery. the way they bicker like an old sitcom couple and still always end up sharing dessert. about how you never really wanted to be the center of the story, just close enough to see it unfold.

you smile. “nah...” you say. “it was honestly the best seat in the house.”

[tea-kitten]

Hi there! I saw your reply to pangur-and-grim about Belphegor, and your statement about cat breeds as coming in three basic shapes was new to me. Triangular and round seem self-explanatory to me, but I was wondering if you had other examples of square breeds?

The most immediately recognizable square breed I can think of off the top of my head is the majestic Maine Coon. Look at that big ole box.

The Pixiebob, American Shorthair, and American Curl are also pretty solidly square in my eyes. Bear in mind that calling a cat breed's shape round, square, or triangular is a bit like calling a letter/shape Kiki or Bouba - it's vibes more than it is scientific. But there are certainly characteristics common among certain shaped cats that are not common among others. As you said, round cats and triangle cats are pretty self-explanatory - square cats are those breeds that hang out somewhere in between the two.

[xazse]

im begging anyone LITERALLY ANYONE to write any sort of wanderer x reader x xiao love triangle (either poly amorous or not), i love thinking about what their impressions of each other would be and how they would go about trying to one up the other guy (since i feel like there would be an intense feeling of rivalry between the two)!!

I know you JUST submitted this but I had to write abt this. Dont worry to my other requests I will get to you my loves!

FEM!READER WITH BOOBS

Xiao and Scaramouche don’t really get along when it comes to you, they’re always at each others throat about who gets to be balls deep in you or who gets your pretty lips wrapped around their cocks.

They make it a habit to get you alone, Xiao not very talkative will seduce you with his actions: bringing you whatever you want or making you whatever you want, anything to get you in the mood.

Scaramouche just outright declared what he wants, he wants you on your knees, back arched and ready to go? He’ll immediately let you know. He wants you to jerk him off right in the living room, not caring about how loud his moans are.

Scaramouche makes it a habit to lock the bedroom door anytime he’s managed to get you alone. Who cares if Xiao comes knocking at the door speaking about how much he needs you, ignore him!

Xiao doesn’t play like he does, he’s a bit sweeter and more mature, if he gets you alone he’ll let Scaramouche in but won’t allow him your cunt, thats fair at least in his eyes.

One day they’re both messily kissing all over you, saliva decorating your skin creating a thin layer. Kuni is inbetween your thighs, sucking on your nipples or has been for the past couple of minutes, Xiao is underneath you, holding you softly and attacking your neck, you can feel both their throbbing lengths pulsing against you, so needy and all for you.

Xiao maneuvers his hands to pull his underwear down just a little to free his thick cock, you can’t see with Scaramouche blocking your view but you know he’s dribbling lots of precum, you’ve been insistent that you needs lots of prep for what reason they don’t know.

He’s stroking himself slowly, not wanting to cum early, he’s been begging to cum inside all day, so has kuni, you know if you let one go before the other it’ll cause issues so you’ll take both of them just to not hear bickering all night.

You urge Scara to take his cock out as well, a little clouded and with lusty eyes he takes out his veiny long cock, also beginning to stroke himself. Impatient as he is, he hurriedly rips off your panties: you’ll definitely scold him for that later.

He says he can’t wait any longer and begs for your permission, you give him a nod and he’s already pushing the blunt tip in your wet hole, you can hear Xiao already needily whining in protest but you’re quick to grab his cock at an awkward position and push his cock in as well.

They’re both taken aback but don’t ask you to stop, the feeling of their cocks brushing up against one another definitely isn’t unwanted, this paired with your gummy walls feels so fucking good. They can both feel each other cocks twitching which in turn makes for some pretty noise leave their lips. You aren’t fairing any better, feeling full and also amazing, your head lulls to the side, Xiao takes it upon himself to decorate your face with kisses.

When they start moving it’s just a different story, they move in tandem, thick cocks creating friction and making you wetter by the second, your cunt clamps down on them every interval.

You can all really feel each other, every stroke provides you lot with more and more ecstasy, Xiao is the first to cum with a Loud yelp that settles into a low cry, Scaramouche is still pushing and dragging his cock along your walls and Xiao’s cock. He realizes that he can’t pull out until Kuni finishes, so he’s stuck whining and biting your ear until then. Scaramouche rubs your soaked clit in fast circles, admiring how you twitch and fumble around as your body accepts what’s about to happen.

He also pries your thighs all the way open, still fucking into you until that familiar spasm in his stomach signals to himself that he’s dumping his thick load right into you. Still rubbing your clit you cum but not without squirting just a tiny bit, it’s still something.

They both manage to pull out, Xiao is out like a light and Scara flops beside you on the bed, open mouthed panting and already opening his mouth to brag about how he made you squirt, they both did but you won’t ruin his high just yet.

[elikajinnie]

Together As Gold - N.R & Y.J

P: Slytherins!Ni-ki & Jungwon X Fem!Reader

Requested by: @milksugatae

Warnings: Love Triangle, Tension, Flirting, Humour, Arguments, Jealousy, Two Endings screw it, i cant choose between them! I MADE THEM TOO TEMPTING HELP! GO FOR BOTH IDK! THEY BOTH DOWN BADDD, Teasing... LIKE ALOT OF TEASING!!! peeves is a canon matchmaker!

Synopsis: What do you do when two cunning Slytherin boys want you? If only you knew the answer yourself.

a/n: i got a few ideas for the shenanigans so special thank you to @starf4lls and @encrifice <33 dont mind any mistakes!

see request here | hogwarts au masterlist

--

When you first found yourself at Hogwarts, you were alone. The tall stone walls, the constant chatter of students—it was all overwhelming, and you didn’t know anyone. So, you kept to yourself, focusing on finding your place, giving yourself just enough time to get used to the classes and the eccentric professors.

But once you settled into the flow, things started falling into place. You made friends with your housemates and exchanged stories. The days went by easier after that, and before long, you had a solid group of friends around you, your circle expanding little by little. It was all going well—until you were assigned to work with two Slytherins for a Herbology project.

Ni-ki and Jungwon.

They were the kind of people who knew exactly how to get under your skin. But you would figure out just how different they were from everyone else, with due time.

--

You walked out of Herbology, your hands full with books, the weight of them pressing against your chest. You were double-checking, making sure you had all your materials. The hallways were bustling with students heading to their next classes, but you didn’t mind. It gave you a bit of space to organize your thoughts.

You hadn’t noticed them at first. Ni-ki and Jungwon were trailing behind you, their voices rising in a playful but heated argument.

“I’ll ask her first,” Ni-ki insisted, his tone cocky as always.

“No way,” Jungwon shot back, his voice smooth but firm. “I’ll do it.”

You could hear the back-and-forth, but it didn’t quite register until Ni-ki, with a sudden burst of energy, slid in front of you, effectively stopping you in your tracks. His sharp, mischievous smile was the first thing you noticed as he raised an eyebrow.

“Hey,” he said casually, as if he wasn’t completely interrupting your path. “What do you think about getting a head start on that project? Have you figured anything out yet?”

You blinked, surprised, and for a moment, just stared at him. Behind him, Jungwon stepped up to stand beside him, equally as composed but with a glint in his eyes that made you feel like this wasn’t just a casual suggestion. They were both waiting for you to respond, their eyes studying you, each trying to gauge how you’d react.

You narrowed your eyes at them, still trying to make sense of the situation.

“Well…” you started cautiously, “I have something figured out, but I’m still not completely sure.”

As if that was the cue they’d been waiting for, Ni-ki and Jungwon suddenly moved in closer. Before you could protest, they both grabbed your arms—Ni-ki on one side, Jungwon on the other—and pulled you along with them. You stumbled slightly, caught off guard, and blinked at the two of them in confusion.

Ni-ki’s mischievous grin never faltered. “Good, then we’ll figure the rest out together,” he said, as though it was perfectly normal for him to be dragging you along through the hallways.

Jungwon let out a soft laugh, the sound oddly charming as he looked over at Ni-ki. “Herbology isn’t even my strongest subject,” he admitted, his tone casual, though you weren’t sure if it was meant to reassure you or not.

Ni-ki rolled his eyes dramatically. “As if you have a strong subject at all,” he shot back with a grin, a little too confident in his jab.

Jungwon smirked, unbothered. “At least I don’t fail every practical. Your last Herbology experiment looked like a failed potion, Ni-ki.”

Ni-ki scoffed. “Better than your Charms assignment, which was basically a disaster in a teacup.”

“Better than your Transfiguration homework that could only be fixed by Professor McGonagall herself,” Jungwon retorted smoothly.

You just stared at the two of them, utterly baffled. Was this really happening? They bickered back and forth as if they didn’t have a care in the world, each comment more sarcastic than the last.

“Oh, don’t even get me started on your Potions, Jungwon,” Ni-ki continued, practically laughing. “Last time you nearly blew up a Hufflepuff with a single sneeze.”

Jungwon shot him a playful glare. “At least I didn’t turn a batch of sleeping draught into a batch of pepper-up potion. You nearly made the whole class go into a caffeine frenzy.”

You raised an eyebrow, still trying to make sense of it all. Was it possible to survive being caught in the middle of this?

Jungwon leaned in a little closer, smirking. “Face it, Ni-ki. If it wasn’t for me saving your ass last semester, you’d be stuck in the library trying to figure out what went wrong with that failed Firemaking spell.”

Ni-ki grinned wider. “Who says I needed saving? I had it all under control, except for the little incident with the blast-ended skrewt…”

You sighed, realizing that you were witnessing a rivalry of sorts, but one that seemed more like the banter between good friends. It didn’t make it any easier to deal with, though. How were you supposed to survive having these two as your project partners?

Okay, turns out you would survive having them as your project partners. Despite their obvious lack of skill in Herbology, they did help—or at least tried to. Both of them seemed strangely determined, which you quickly realized wasn’t out of pure goodwill but out of a mutual fear of failing the subject. For what reason, you didn’t know, but the way they occasionally exchanged nervous glances during Professor Sprout’s lectures told you there was more to it than they were letting on.

What you did know, however, was that they were a surprisingly funny duo. Whether it was Ni-ki accidentally knocking over a pot of bouncing bulb roots and blaming it on Jungwon, or Jungwon deadpanning as he handed you a watering can he had accidentally charmed to spray in every direction but the plants, they somehow managed to turn the tedious project into something… enjoyable.

“You were supposed to prune it, not scare it to death!” you groaned, staring at the now-drooping Flutterby bush in Ni-ki’s hands.

“It’s not dead! It’s just taking a nap!” Ni-ki argued, holding it up defensively.

“Sure,” Jungwon interjected with a smirk. “Because plants definitely sleep like that.” He gestured at the pitiful bush, which was half dangling out of its pot.

“Do you want to take over?” Ni-ki shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Oh wait, you can’t even tell the difference between a Shrivelfig and a gourd!”

Jungwon didn’t miss a beat. “And yet, I’m still doing better than you.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. Somehow, their antics made it easy for you to relax and talk to them, like you’d known them since your first year at Hogwarts. They had this way of making you feel included in their little bubble of chaos, like you were already part of their circle of friends.

The three of you spent hours in the greenhouse, working on the project—and while there was plenty of bickering and mishaps, you couldn’t deny how much easier it was to get through with them.

Surprisingly, you all managed to finish the project on time, even if a few mishaps happened along the way—and even if a few unfortunate plants didn’t make it. The Flutterby bush never quite recovered from Ni-ki’s aggressive pruning, and Jungwon accidentally overwatered the Fanged Geranium, which resulted in a small flood and several frantic minutes of dodging snapping leaves. But somehow, against all odds, you pulled it together.

What shocked you most wasn’t just that the project was finished, but that you actually enjoyed your time with them. Sure, they were a pair of chaotic distractions half the time, but their constant banter and ridiculous antics made the whole ordeal much more bearable than you’d expected. It was easy to laugh with them, easy to talk to them about random things that had nothing to do with Herbology. Somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling like a school assignment and started feeling like… fun.

When Professor Sprout handed back your marks, you almost didn’t believe it. The three of you passed the project with flying colors.

“See?” Ni-ki said smugly, leaning back in his chair and flashing a grin at you and Jungwon. “I told you we’d ace it.”

“You told us nothing,” Jungwon deadpanned, elbowing him lightly. “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have even known which end of a Mandrake to pull.”

Ni-ki scoffed. “If it weren’t for me, you’d still be trying to figure out how to trim the Devil’s Snare without getting strangled.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at the two of them. “If it weren’t for me, neither of you would’ve made it past the planning stage.”

They both paused for a moment, then nodded in agreement. “Fair enough,” Jungwon said with a small grin.

“Yeah,” Ni-ki added, nudging you playfully. “Guess you did help us.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway. They might have been annoying, chaotic, and occasionally useless when it came to Herbology, but you had to admit—working with them had been fun.

And you honestly thought that was it—that after the Herbology project, you wouldn’t have to worry about Ni-ki and Jungwon anymore. They’d go back to their own lives, and you’d go back to yours, free of their chaos. But clearly, you were wrong.

The very next day, you were calmly walking toward the Great Hall for lunch, your mind blissfully occupied with thoughts of pumpkin pasties and butterbeer, when a loud BOOM echoed through the hallway behind you. The ground shook slightly, and the smell of smoke began to fill the air.

You froze, eyes widening as you turned around. Before you could even process what had happened, the rapid sound of footsteps thundered in your direction. Your gasp caught in your throat as you saw them—Jungwon and Ni-ki—sprinting down the corridor with wild, panicked looks on their faces.

“Run! Let’s go, let’s go!” Ni-ki shouted, his voice loud and urgent.

Before you could even ask what was going on, they spotted you. Without missing a beat, they grabbed you—Ni-ki gripping one arm, Jungwon the other—and practically dragged you along with them as they continued their frantic escape.

“Wait! What—what are you—” you tried to protest, your feet stumbling to keep up as they pulled you at full speed.

“Let’s go, let’s go, don’t stop!” Ni-ki repeated, glancing back over his shoulder like he expected something—or someone—to be chasing you.

“What did you two do?” you demanded, the words coming out more like a yell as they yanked you around a corner.

Jungwon was panting but managed to shoot you an innocent look. “Nothing serious,” he said, though the faint hint of panic in his voice betrayed him. “Just… a minor miscalculation.”

“A miscalculation?! What does that even mean?”

Before either of them could answer, another explosion rang out from somewhere behind you, followed by an angry voice shouting something you couldn’t quite make out. Your stomach dropped as realization began to dawn on you.

“Did you two blow something up?” you asked, your voice rising in disbelief.

“Not on purpose!” Ni-ki shot back defensively, still pulling you forward. “We were just experimenting in the Potions classroom—”

“It was his idea,” Jungwon interrupted, cutting him off with a pointed look.

“Oh, don’t even start!” Ni-ki snapped, glaring at him. “You were the one who said, ‘Let’s add just a little more firewhiskey to see what happens!’”

“And you’re the one who actually poured it in!” Jungwon countered, his tone exasperated.

You stared at them, completely dumbfounded. This couldn’t be real. How had you gone from a peaceful walk to being dragged into yet another one of their disasters in less than two minutes?

“Why am I even here?!” you shouted, half running, half being dragged.

“Because,” Jungwon said, shooting you a quick grin despite the chaos, “you’re our lucky charm. And we figured you wouldn’t mind helping us... again.”

“You figured wrong!” you snapped, but neither of them seemed to care.

All you could do was sigh as they continued dragging you down the hall, their bickering somehow louder than the chaos they’d left. You were starting to think that surviving the Herbology project was only the beginning of whatever mess these two had planned for your life.

And, well, you were right. After meeting Ni-ki and Jungwon, your once relatively peaceful life became a whirlwind of chaos. Everything they did—everything—somehow ended up involving you, whether you wanted it to or not. It wasn’t long before their mischief became a permanent fixture in your day-to-day existence.

If they were planning a prank, they either roped you in to help or you’d somehow stumble across them in the aftermath, frantically trying to help them hide from Filch. And of course, you’d end up covering for them because they’d flash you those overly innocent smiles that made it impossible to say no.

If they were skipping class, you found yourself torn between making up excuses to the professors on their behalf or—more often than you cared to admit—being dragged along with them. “Just this once,” they’d promise, only for it to happen again the next week. And the week after that.

If they were goofing around, you were inevitably dragged into it. A simple walk to the library would somehow turn into a duel with floating chocolate frogs in the middle of the corridor. And if they decided to sneak out to Hogsmeade, you’d find yourself sandwiched between them at the Three Broomsticks, half-laughing, half-sighing as they plotted their next big thing.

Even their visits to Hagrid’s hut became a regular thing for you. The first time, they claimed they just wanted to “show you something cool,” but the next thing you knew, you were in Hagrid’s hut, trying to dodge a Blast-Ended Skrewt that had gotten a little too excited. It was a miracle you all made it out in one piece.

Somewhere along the way, though, all of the chaos and madness began to feel normal. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it happened, but you’d become friends with them—real friends. The kind who stuck by each other, no matter how ridiculous the situation. And, as much as you hated to admit it sometimes, you enjoyed it. They made life more exciting and a lot more fun.

Eventually, the three of you became known across the school as the Mischief Trio. Every time something happened—whether it was a dungbomb going off in the middle of a Slytherin and Gryffindor Quidditch match, a swarm of enchanted paper birds in the library, or Filch’s office mysteriously flooding—it was almost guaranteed that you three were involved in some way. Professors groaned at the sight of you, and other students either avoided you or gravitated toward you, depending on their appetite for trouble.

But no matter how much trouble you got into, you couldn’t imagine your life without them. Sure, they drove you crazy most of the time, but they also made Hogwarts feel a little more like home. And you knew you’d always have their backs—just like they’d always have yours.

So it wasn’t really much of a surprise when you were sitting quietly in the library, diligently working through your Potions notes, and Jungwon suddenly appeared, slipping into the seat across from you. A second later, Ni-ki followed, plopping himself down beside him. Neither said a word, which was unusual. You didn’t even lift your head, only glanced at them for a brief second in acknowledgment before returning your attention to your notes.

The silence lingered, and for a moment, you were genuinely surprised. Normally, by now, they’d have already started whispering—well, trying to whisper—about their latest harebrained idea or grumbled about how boring studying was. It would escalate until Madam Pince would inevitably swoop in with her stern glare and a sharp “Silence!” by which point they’d be grinning like kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar. But this time, they just sat there, completely quiet.

It was so unlike them that you couldn’t help but glance up, a little suspicious. Jungwon was leaning casually back in his chair, flipping idly through a random book he’d grabbed, while Ni-ki seemed to be doodling on a scrap of parchment. Neither of them met your gaze, though you could tell something was up by the way they were both sneaking glances at you from the corners of their eyes.

Before you could say anything, Jungwon slipped something across the table—a small folded piece of parchment. You frowned, curiosity piqued, and carefully opened it.

We need your help. Meet us at the Astronomy Tower after dinner. Don’t tell anyone.

You stared at the note for a moment before glancing up at him. Jungwon raised an eyebrow at you, his expression unreadable but with just enough of a spark in his eyes to make you wary. Beside him, Ni-ki finally looked up from his parchment and gave you an exaggerated thumbs-up, grinning like a kid who’d just gotten away with stealing a cauldron cake.

“What exactly do you need help with?” you whispered, narrowing your eyes at them.

Ni-ki quickly shushed you, his grin widening. “Not here,” he muttered, gesturing around dramatically as if someone might be listening. “Just come later, and we’ll explain everything.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Why do I feel like this is going to get me into trouble?”

“Because it probably will,” Jungwon said with a small, unapologetic shrug. “But that’s part of the fun, isn’t it?”

You gave him a flat look, but he and Ni-ki just grinned at you, their expressions far too innocent for comfort. Whatever they had planned, you already knew it wasn’t going to be anything good. And yet, you knew you’d end up going.

Because somehow, they always managed to drag you along.

So, you did end up going to the Astronomy Tower after dinner, half-expecting to find them already waiting for you. But when you arrived, the place was empty. The cool night air swept through the open windows as you looked around, your footsteps echoing faintly against the stone floor.

"Jungwon? Ni-ki?" you whispered, peering into the shadows. No response.

You frowned, waiting for a few minutes, debating whether you’d been pranked. Then, the faint sound of stone shifting caught your attention. Whipping your head around, you scanned the room—and almost screamed when you saw a hole opening in the stone wall near your leg.

“Relax,” Ni-ki’s grinning face popped out of the hole, his head tilted mischievously. His voice was almost too casual for someone emerging from a secret passage. “It’s just me. Come on, get in.”

“What—Ni-ki? What is—how did you even—” you stammered, taking a step back as he motioned for you to follow.

“No time for questions. Just get in,” he urged, already reaching out to grab your ankle.

“Wait, get in where?” you asked, taking a cautious step closer, only for him to start pulling you toward the hole. “Ni-ki, this is insane—what is even—”

“Just trust me!” he said with a grin, dragging you through the opening before you could protest further.

You stumbled into the narrow passageway as Ni-ki pushed the stone slab back into place behind you, sealing off the entrance as if it had never been there. Without skipping a beat, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you down a spiraling stone staircase, the air growing colder as you descended.

“This better not be a prank,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

“Oh, it’s not,” he said, his voice carrying a suspiciously gleeful undertone.

Finally, you reached a small, dimly lit room, the stone walls lined with shelves holding jars of unidentifiable substances. In the middle of the room sat Jungwon, surrounded by an assortment of ingredients, potion books, and a bubbling cauldron. The faint greenish glow of the potion illuminated his face as he looked up at you with a sheepish grin.

“You made it,” he said simply, as if you’d just arrived for a casual study session.

Ni-ki let go of your wrist and plopped down beside Jungwon, motioning for you to sit. You hesitated for a moment before slowly lowering yourself onto the floor. As you settled in, your eyes darted to the mess of potion ingredients scattered around the room—lacewing flies, leeches, powdered bicorn horn, boomslang skin.

Your stomach dropped as you recognized the familiar list of items. Glancing at one of the potion books lying open beside Jungwon, your suspicion was confirmed.

They were making Polyjuice Potion.

“Are you two insane?” you hissed, your voice sharp but quiet. “You do know this is against the rules, right?”

“Rules?” Ni-ki scoffed, waving you off as if you’d just told him the sky was blue. “Only if we get caught.”

“And we’re not going to get caught,” Jungwon added confidently, gesturing toward the cauldron. “We’ve been careful. No one even knows we’re down here.”

You stared at them, utterly baffled. “Why are you even making Polyjuice Potion? What could you possibly need it for?”

They exchanged a quick glance, and you immediately knew you weren’t going to like their answer.

“Well…” Ni-ki started, dragging out the word as if trying to figure out how to phrase it.

Jungwon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “We just… need to, uh, borrow someone’s identity for a bit.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Whose?”

Ni-ki grinned, clearly finding the entire situation amusing. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

“Absolutely not,” you said, shaking your head. “I want no part in this. You two are going to get expelled if anyone finds out!”

“Relax,” Ni-ki said, leaning back against the wall. “We’ve got it under control.”

“You don’t even have it finished yet, do you?” you said, gesturing to the messy pile of jars and powders.

“Well, no,” Jungwon admitted, his tone hesitant. “That’s… kind of where you come in.”

You groaned, already regretting every decision that had led you to this moment. “Of course it is.”

“We just need a little help,” Ni-ki said, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “And who better to help than the smartest person we know?”

You glared at him. “Flattery isn’t going to work.”

“Come on,” Jungwon said, his voice annoyingly reasonable. “You’ve already helped us so many times. What’s one more?”

“One more? This is Polyjuice Potion we’re talking about!” you hissed, staring at them, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as they launched into a chorus of pleading.

“Please,” Ni-ki whined, dragging out the word like a child denied dessert. “Just this once—well, technically not just this once—but, you know, this time’s important!”

“Very important,” Jungwon chimed in, nodding solemnly.

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Important? You mean ‘reckless’ and ‘completely unnecessary.’”

Ni-ki pouted dramatically, scooting closer to you on his knees. “Come on, don’t be like that! You’re our only hope.”

“I’m serious. This isn’t happening,” you said firmly, your voice unwavering.

But then Jungwon joined in, mirroring Ni-ki’s position on your other side. Now you were flanked by both of them, their faces far too close for comfort, with matching grins.

“Pretty please?” Jungwon said, tilting his head and batting his lashes like he was trying to win some sort of charm contest.

“With chocolate frogs on top?” Ni-ki added, leaning in with a cheeky smirk.

You glanced between them, your eyes narrowing as they started piling on the dramatics.

“You’re the best at brewing potions!” Jungwon said, nudging your arm.

“And the smartest,” Ni-ki added, nudging your other arm.

“Way better at this than us,” Jungwon continued, his tone dripping with faux admiration.

“And let’s be real—you’re kind of already involved, so why not just see it through?” Ni-ki finished, his grin turning downright devilish.

You rolled your eyes. “You mean you two dragged me into this against my will. That’s not the same thing as being ‘involved.’”

“Details,” Jungwon said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Come on,” Ni-ki teased, leaning so close that you instinctively leaned back. “We’re your friends, remember? What kind of friend would you be if you didn’t help us out?”

“Yeah, what kind of friend?” Jungwon echoed, his voice dripping with mock hurt.

You glared at them, your resolve faltering slightly as they both gave you identical puppy-dog eyes. They knew exactly what they were doing, and unfortunately, you knew exactly how this would end.

“You two are the worst,” you muttered under your breath, looking down at the potion book in front of you.

“Does that mean you’ll help?” Ni-ki asked, his grin widening in triumph.

“Ugh, fine,” you groaned, throwing your hands in the air. “But if we get caught, I’m telling them it was all your idea.”

“Deal,” Jungwon said quickly, already flipping to the next page of the book.

Ni-ki threw an arm around your shoulders, grinning ear to ear. “Knew you’d come through for us.”

You sighed, wondering for the millionth time how you always let them talk you into these things. If Hogwarts ever handed out awards for bad decisions, you were pretty sure you’d win one.

You sighed for the umpteenth time as you carefully added a pinch of powdered bicorn horn into the bubbling cauldron. The potion hissed softly as the powder dissolved, releasing a faint green wisp of smoke. Ni-ki and Jungwon sat on either side of you, their usual antics subdued for once as they watched you work, their eyes glued to your every move like you were performing some kind of ancient magic ritual.

"Can you two stop staring at me like that?" you muttered without looking up, your voice edged with exasperation.

"We're just... observing," Jungwon said innocently, though the small smirk on his lips betrayed him.

"Yeah, gotta make sure you're doing it right," Ni-ki added with a teasing lilt.

You shot them both a sharp look. "Oh, I'm the one you're worried about messing this up? Let me remind you whose brilliant idea this was."

Ni-ki grinned, leaning closer. "Exactly. Which is why we need you to handle it—you’re way better at this than we’d ever be. Right, Jungwon?"

Jungwon nodded seriously, though his gaze didn’t waver from the potion. "Yeah. If it were up to us, we’d probably blow something up by now."

You couldn’t argue with that. They had the combined attention span of a niffler in a jewelry shop.

"Just don’t distract me," you muttered, carefully stirring the potion clockwise. "If you make me mess this up, we’ll have to start all over again, and I am not spending another night like this with you two."

"Aw, you love spending time with us," Ni-ki teased, leaning his chin on his hand as he continued to watch you.

You didn’t dignify that with a response, instead focusing on the precise instructions in the book. Step by step, you added each ingredient, your movements careful and deliberate. Occasionally, you’d glance at the timer Jungwon had set, making sure everything was timed perfectly.

As the potion began to turn the intended muddy brown color, a sign that it was nearing completion, you let out a small breath of relief.

"Wow," Ni-ki said suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice was softer, almost genuine for once. "You’re, like... really good at this."

You glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow. "Don’t sound so surprised."

"I’m not," he said quickly, a mischievous glint returning to his eyes. "But watching you work is kind of impressive."

Jungwon nodded in agreement, his usual playful demeanor replaced by a rare moment of sincerity. "Yeah. We’d be completely hopeless without you."

For a moment, their compliments caught you off guard. You felt heat rising to your cheeks, but you quickly masked it by focusing on the potion again.

"Well, maybe next time, don’t drag me into something like this again, and I won’t have to save your butts," you said, though your tone lacked its usual sharpness.

Ni-ki chuckled. "Where’s the fun in that?"

Jungwon leaned closer, resting his elbows on the table. "You wouldn’t leave us to fend for ourselves, though. Admit it—you’d miss us."

You rolled your eyes, stirring the potion one last time. "I’d miss the peace and quiet more."

They both laughed, and for a brief moment, the room felt lighter. As chaotic as they were, you couldn’t deny that there was something oddly comforting about their presence, even when they were dragging you into one ridiculous situation after another.

"Alright," you said finally, stepping back and wiping your hands on your robes. "The potion’s done—for now. It needs to sit for a month before it’s ready to use."

"A month?" Ni-ki groaned, slumping back against the wall dramatically.

Jungwon raised an eyebrow. "Did you even read the instructions before planning this?"

"Of course I did!" Ni-ki said, though his expression said otherwise.

You shook your head, gathering up the leftover ingredients. "Typical. Anyway, you two better figure out what you’re actually going to use this for. I’m not getting involved beyond this point."

"Sure you’re not," Jungwon said with a knowing smirk.

Ni-ki grinned, leaning forward with that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. "Yeah, we’ll see about that."

You rolled your eyes, brushing off your robes as you stood up, ready to leave this chaotic duo behind for the night. "Well, good luck with your little plan or whatever. I’m going to pretend I was never here."

But before you could take more than a step, Jungwon was suddenly on his feet, grabbing your wrist with a firm but gentle grip.

"Wait," he said, his eyes bright with excitement.

You raised an eyebrow, glancing between him and Ni-ki. "What now? I already did what you wanted. I’m not doing anything else."

Jungwon grinned, ignoring your protests entirely. "We want to show you something."

You blinked, confused. "Show me what?"

"You’ll see," Ni-ki chimed in, already moving and motioned for Jungwon to hurry up.

"Come on," Jungwon said, tugging on your wrist before you could protest further.

Sighing, you let yourself be dragged along, too tired to argue. "This better not get me into more trouble."

"No promises," Ni-ki called over his shoulder, a teasing lilt in his voice as he disappeared down the corridor.

The three of you navigated through the dark, winding passageways beneath the castle, the air cool and slightly damp. You had no idea where they were taking you, but you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of curiosity.

After what felt like ages of walking, Ni-ki and Jungwon came to a stop in front of a narrow staircase that spiraled upward.

"Here we are," Ni-ki announced, gesturing grandly.

You frowned, looking up the staircase. "Where exactly is here?"

"You’ll see," Jungwon said, his grin widening as he nudged you toward the stairs.

With an annoyed sigh, you reluctantly began to climb, Jungwon following close behind while Ni-ki took the lead. When you finally reached the top, Ni-ki pushed open a small wooden door, and you stepped out into the cool night air.

Your eyes widened as you took in the sight before you. You were on a secluded rooftop of the castle, the view stretching out over the Hogwarts grounds. The Forbidden Forest loomed dark and mysterious in the distance, and the Black Lake shimmered faintly under the light of the moon.

"Whoa," you breathed, momentarily forgetting your irritation.

"Told you it was worth it," Jungwon said, his tone softer now as he stepped up beside you.

Ni-ki plopped down on the edge of the rooftop, his legs dangling over the side as he leaned back on his hands. "We found this spot last year. Nobody ever comes up here. It’s kind of... ours."

"Well, now it’s ours," Jungwon corrected, shooting you a smile.

You glanced between the two of them, your heart softening despite yourself. For all their chaos and mischief, they had a knack for moments like this—moments that made you glad you were friends with them.å

"So," Ni-ki said, breaking the silence, "what do you think? Worth the trek?"

You gave him a small smile, finally letting your guard down. "Yeah... it’s pretty amazing."

Jungwon leaned back against the wall, a satisfied grin on his face. "Knew you’d like it."

The three of you sat there for a while, just sharing a quiet night under the stars.

--

Well, you would love to say that the month waiting for the Polyjuice Potion to set was peaceful.

But that would be a lie.

No, the so-called "peaceful waiting period" turned into absolute chaos. Since Ni-ki and Jungwon couldn't carry out their grand plan just yet—one they still refused to tell you about, claiming it was a "surprise"—they apparently decided to channel their boredom into wreaking havoc around the castle.

The professors were on edge, constantly looking over their shoulders for the next disaster. Filch was more paranoid than ever, skulking through the hallways with his lantern, muttering about "those blasted kids." Even the ghosts seemed jumpier than usual, drifting through walls with wary expressions, as though they'd had enough of the two troublemakers.

And somehow, no matter what you were doing, you always managed to get roped into their schemes.

You’d lost count of how many times you’d accidentally stumbled upon them in the middle of one of their rule-breaking escapades. It was like you had some sort of invisible string tying you to their chaos. You’d walk into a corridor or step into an empty classroom, minding your own business, only to find them hunched over a suspicious-looking contraption or whispering excitedly about their next prank.

The moment they spotted you, it was over.

"Perfect timing!" Ni-ki would exclaim, as if you’d planned to walk in on them.

"Don’t just stand there—help us!" Jungwon would add, usually while pushing something heavy or fumbling with something clearly not meant to be in a student’s hands.

And no matter how much you protested, no matter how loudly you declared that you wanted nothing to do with their shenanigans, you’d inevitably end up being dragged into it.

One time, you’d walked into the library, thinking you’d finally get a peaceful moment to study. Instead, you found them standing in the Restricted Section, both of them holding an armful of books they definitely weren’t supposed to have.

“What are you doing?!” you hissed, glancing around to make sure Madam Pince wasn’t nearby.

“Research,” Ni-ki said simply, dropping the books onto a nearby table with a loud thud.

“For what?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him.

He grinned. “Class stuff. You wouldn’t understand.”

Jungwon, on the other hand, looked at you with a completely straight face. “He’s lying. We’re looking up forbidden spells.”

You groaned. “Why do I even bother?”

Another time, you were walking back to your dorm after dinner, only to see Filch sprinting down the corridor in the opposite direction, his face red with fury. Moments later, Ni-ki and Jungwon rounded the corner, both breathless and laughing, carrying what looked like an entire box of dungbombs.

You froze. “Nope. Not happening. I don’t even want to know—”

But before you could finish, they grabbed you by the arms and dragged you into an alcove, whispering something about "keeping watch" while they set up their latest prank.

“Do I look like I want detention?” you hissed, glaring at them.

Ni-ki just grinned. “Come on, you’re part of the team now. This is bonding.”

“This is stupidity,” you shot back, though you reluctantly stood guard while they did whatever it was they were doing.

And then there was the time in the Great Hall. You were just trying to enjoy breakfast, eating your toast in peace, when suddenly a flock of enchanted paper cranes came swooping down from the ceiling, diving and swirling around the students. The Hall erupted into chaos as people swatted at the cranes, which were apparently charmed to sing obnoxiously off-key.

You didn’t need to look far to figure out who was responsible. Sure enough, Ni-ki and Jungwon were sitting a few seats away, barely holding back their laughter as they watched the scene unfold.

“You two are going to get expelled,” you muttered as you sat down next to them, shooting them both a glare.

“Worth it,” Ni-ki said, grinning as a crane landed on his shoulder.

“Totally worth it,” Jungwon agreed, taking a bite of his toast as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

It was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. Did you gravitate toward them or something? Because no matter how hard you tried to stay out of their messes, you always seemed to end up right in the middle of them.

And yet, despite the chaos, despite the rule-breaking, and despite the constant time spent in detention... you couldn’t help but laugh. They made it impossible not to.

--

You were generally just trying to mind your own business, walking through the dimly lit hallway near Filch’s office, when you spotted them.

Ni-ki and Jungwon stood just a few feet away, both leaning casually against the wall like they didn’t have a care in the world. Which would’ve been believable—if not for the way their eyes darted around like they were scanning for witnesses. They somehow looked both innocent and highly suspicious at the same time, a combination that never boded well.

Your instincts immediately kicked in: Turn around. Walk away. Pretend you didn’t see anything.

But, of course, luck wasn’t on your side.

Ni-ki’s head shot up, his sharp eyes catching you before you could even take a single step back. “Hey! You!” he called out, grinning like he’d just won the lottery.

You groaned audibly, muttering, “Why me?”

Before you could say anything else, Ni-ki was already jogging over to you, his excitement practically radiating off him. “Come on, come on,” he said eagerly, grabbing your arm and tugging you toward Jungwon.

“Do I have to come?” you asked weakly, already knowing the answer.

Ni-ki didn’t even bother responding. He just pulled you along as you let out a resigned sigh, casting one last glance at the exit you’d never make it to.

When you finally reached Jungwon, you gave them both a pointed look. “Alright, what are you two planning this time?”

Jungwon didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he pulled out a folded piece of parchment, his grin spreading mischievously. Holding it in one hand, he drew his wand with the other.

“I solemnly swear I am up to no good,” he said softly, his voice practically dripping with mischief as he tapped the parchment.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise as the blank parchment shimmered and began to transform, intricate lines and scribbles spreading across it like ink soaking into paper. A moment later, you realized it was a map—an incredibly detailed map of Hogwarts.

Your jaw dropped as you leaned closer, watching names begin to pop up across the surface, tiny dots moving around the corridors and rooms. Students, professors... even Filch and Mrs. Norris were labeled as they wandered the castle.

“What the—?!” you gasped, utterly shocked. “Where did you get this?”

Ni-ki leaned in close, his chin practically resting on your head. You felt his full weight press on your back as he grinned. “A trickster never reveals their secrets,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

You grumbled in annoyance, trying to shove him off. “Will you get off me?”

He smirked, clearly enjoying your irritation, and stayed exactly where he was. Curse his height—and the fact that he was impossible to move when he didn’t want to be moved. With a resigned sigh, you let him rest there, shooting him a glare he just ignored.

Meanwhile, Jungwon pointed at the map, his grin taking on a distinctly cat-like quality. “Look,” he said, his finger tracing a path on the parchment.

You followed his gaze and froze. There, on the map, was Filch. He was several hallways away, but he was moving steadily in your general direction.

“Perfect,” Jungwon murmured, his grin widening as his eyes sparkled with mischief.

You gave him a wary look. “Why do I feel like I’m about to regret being here?”

“You’ll be fine,” Ni-ki said breezily, still leaning on you like it was the most natural thing in the world. “You’re one of us now, remember?”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” you muttered under your breath, your eyes flicking back to the map as the ominous dot labeled Filch continued to move closer.

Whatever they were planning, you had a sinking feeling it was going to end with you all running for your lives. Again.

So you stood there in stunned silence, half-expecting to wake up from a bizarre dream, as Jungwon and Ni-ki expertly worked together like they had done this a thousand times before.

Jungwon was the distraction. With a flick of his wand, he whispered a Muffliato charm, ensuring Filch wouldn’t hear the chaos unfolding in his own office. Meanwhile, Ni-ki was crouched by the lock, muttering a soft Alohomora under his breath. The click of the door unlocking sent a pang of dread straight to your stomach.

"Are we seriously doing this?" you hissed, still frozen outside the office door.

Ni-ki smirked as he pushed it open. "Oh, we’re way past asking that question."

Before you could argue, Jungwon grabbed your arm and pulled you in, shutting the door behind you with a silent wave of his wand. You stared at them as they got to work.

Jungwon headed straight for Filch’s desk, pulling out drawers and rifling through papers like he was on a scavenger hunt. Meanwhile, Ni-ki found the confiscated items cabinet, letting out an impressed whistle as he examined its contents. “Wow, Filch really doesn’t like fun, huh? Half of this stuff is just Zonko’s products.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “You’re going to get us all expelled.”

“Correction,” Jungwon said without looking up. “We’ll only get expelled if we get caught.”

“Helpful,” you deadpanned, crossing your arms as you watched him pull out a particularly nasty-looking parchment.

“Ah-ha!” Jungwon exclaimed, holding up the paper triumphantly. “The list of confiscated items! This is gold. Imagine what we can do with this.”

You opened your mouth to ask what exactly he planned to do with it, but Ni-ki interrupted by shoving a colorful box in your hands. “Look at this! It’s one of those fireworks from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Filch had no business taking this away.”

Before you could respond, Ni-ki grabbed another handful of glittery objects from the cabinet and threw them into a sack he’d conjured from thin air. You groaned.

“And what are we going to do with all this stuff?” you asked, already dreading the answer.

Ni-ki gave you a mischievous grin, holding up a handful of confetti. “Oh, we have plans.”

The next thirty minutes were a blur of pure chaos.

Jungwon enchanted the ceiling to rain confetti every time someone entered the office. Ni-ki, on the other hand, seemed to have a vendetta against Filch’s desk, which was now buried under a mountain of glitter, enchanted to sparkle like a thousand stars under torchlight. You tried—really, you did—to stop them, but they ignored you completely, too caught up in their gleeful destruction.

“Oh, and this will be the pièce de résistance,” Ni-ki said, holding up a firework and sticking it in the middle of Filch’s desk like a centerpiece. “Timed to go off the moment he sits down.”

“Brilliant,” Jungwon agreed, stepping back to admire their handiwork with a proud smile.

You stared at the chaos surrounding you. Filch’s office looked like a carnival had exploded in it. Glitter covered every surface, the confetti charm was in full effect, and there were at least three forbidden spells buzzing quietly in the air.

“This is... insane,” you muttered, shaking your head.

“Insanely fun, you mean,” Ni-ki corrected, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Come on, admit it. You’re impressed.”

“I’m horrified,” you shot back.

Jungwon checked the Marauder’s Map, his grin turning slightly panicked. “Uh, we should probably go. Filch is coming back.”

At that, Ni-ki straightened, grabbing the sack of confiscated items. “Alright, let’s move. You coming, partner-in-crime?” he asked, looking down at you with that maddening grin of his.

You groaned but followed as they bolted for the door, the three of you slipping out just in time. You could hear Filch’s grumbling in the distance as you sprinted down the hall.

When you finally stopped running, out of breath and covered in a faint layer of glitter, Ni-ki turned to you with a triumphant grin. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

Jungwon snorted. “Speak for yourself. Y/N was ready to disown us back there.”

You glared at them, pointing at the faint trail of glitter that followed you like a beacon. “We’re all getting detention if this doesn’t wash off.”

Ni-ki just shrugged, still grinning. “Worth it.”

You sighed, already preparing yourself for the next disaster they’d drag you into.

You never really expected to stay friends with them. Honestly, you didn’t even know when you had officially crossed the line into friendship—it just kind of happened. Despite being dragged into their mischief constantly, despite the headaches and the near-expulsions, they had somehow managed to carve a space in your life that you hadn’t realized.

And while they were an absolute menace most of the time, there were moments where they surprised you.

Like when you were stuck in the hospital wing after a particularly nasty Quidditch accident, and Ni-ki had snuck in late at night to bring you sweets he’d smuggled from the kitchens. “Thought you could use a little sugar rush,” he’d said with a grin, settling down at the edge of your bed like he planned to stay there all night.

Or the time you got a nasty grade on an essay in Transfiguration, and Jungwon, who had perfected the subject, had sat with you for hours helping you revise until you finally understood it. He’d teased you endlessly, of course, but he still patiently explained things, as though he believed in you even when you didn’t.

These small moments added up, painting a picture of your friendship that was as genuine as it was chaotic.

But what you didn’t know—what you couldn’t know—was that their feelings for you ran deeper than friendship.

The way Ni-ki’s teasing became just a little softer when it was directed at you. The way he always found an excuse to stand close, to brush against your shoulder or nudge you playfully, his gaze lingering on you when he thought you weren’t looking.

Or the way Jungwon seemed to falter around you in small ways. The way his eyes softened whenever you laughed, or the way his voice always lost a bit of its sharpness when he said your name.

Neither of them had admitted it—maybe not even to themselves—but it was there.

And you, completely unaware, continued to treat them like the troublemaking friends you’d grown so used to, never realizing the turmoil you were unknowingly causing in their hearts.

Eventually, the month was up, and the Polyjuice Potion had finally set.

Jungwon and Ni-ki, as eager as ever, wasted no time dragging you back into the secret passageway where they’d first revealed their ridiculous plan. You’d been half-hoping they’d forgotten about it, or maybe come to their senses, but judging by the gleam in their eyes, you knew better.

Jungwon carefully ladled some of the potion into a glass, the thick, murky liquid swirling ominously. The smell was awful—like burnt cabbage and old socks—and you couldn’t help but scrunch your nose in disgust.

"Are you sure about this?" you asked, eyeing the potion warily.

"Positive," Jungwon said, far too confidently for someone about to drink something that could very well land him in the hospital wing—or worse.

Ni-ki leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, grinning like this was the best entertainment he’d had all year. "Go on, Jungwon. Bottoms up."

With a deep breath and a glance at the both of you, Jungwon tipped the glass back and downed the potion in one swift gulp. Almost immediately, he doubled over, clutching his stomach as his body began to shift and change.

You and Ni-ki stepped back instinctively, watching in both awe and horror as Jungwon’s dark hair lightened to a sandy brown, his frame stretched slightly taller, and his features rearranged themselves into something alarmingly familiar.

When he straightened up, you found yourself face-to-face with the Gryffindor prefect.

"What," you said flatly, blinking at him as your brain struggled to process what you were seeing.

Jungwon—now looking and sounding exactly like the Gryffindor prefect—grinned. "What do you think? Pretty convincing, huh?"

You stared at him, dumbfounded. "You’re him. You’re literally him."

Ni-ki let out a loud laugh, slapping his knee. "This is incredible. You even nailed his ‘holier-than-thou’ smirk." He clapped his hands together, grinning like he’d just won the lottery. "Absolutely flawless. Ten out of ten. You could fool anyone."

Still reeling, you turned to Ni-ki, your voice rising. "What is this plan, exactly? What are you two planning to do now that Jungwon looks like the Gryffindor prefect?"

Ni-ki’s grin widened, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Oh, right. About that…" He stepped closer, lowering his voice as though he were about to share the world’s best-kept secret.

You crossed your arms, waiting impatiently.

"We," he began, drawing out the word dramatically, "are going to change the Gryffindor common room password."

You blinked. "You made me brew a highly risky potion—risked detention and possible expulsion just to change the password to the Gryffindor common room?"

"Exactly!" Ni-ki exclaimed, throwing his hands up as if to emphasize his point. "Gryffindor’s been unbearable ever since they won the last Quidditch match. Rubbing it in everyone’s faces, strutting around like they’re the kings of the castle—"

Jungwon, now examining his new appearance in a nearby reflective surface, chimed in, "Which they’re not, by the way."

Ni-ki shrugged, completely unapologetic. "It’s payback. Justice if you would say."

Jungwon, nodded solemnly. "It’s about the principle."

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. "You two are insane. Do you have any idea how much trouble you’ll be in if you get caught?"

Ni-ki leaned closer, a smirk tugging at his lips. "That’s why we won’t get caught."

"Uh-huh," you deadpanned, entirely unconvinced. "And if the real Gryffindor prefect shows up?"

Ni-ki waved you off. "That’s why we’ve got a lookout."

"Who’s the lookout?" you asked warily.

Ni-ki gave you a pointed look, his grin widening mischievously.

"No," you said immediately, stepping back. "Absolutely not. I am not going to be the lookout for this ridiculous plan."

"Come on," Ni-ki whined, grabbing your arm and giving you a pleading look. "You’re the only one we trust for the job. Plus, you’re great at pretending you don’t know us if things go south."

"That’s not a compliment," you snapped, but Ni-ki just laughed.

"Please!!!" Jungwon said, and despite the fact that his face wasn’t his own, his tone was still undeniably his. "We need you."

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. They were absolutely impossible. Still, as much as you wanted to walk away and leave them to their ridiculous plan, you knew you wouldn’t. "I can’t believe I’m even here for this."

Ni-ki slung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. "Come on, Y/N. Where’s your sense of adventure?"

"Buried under my sense of self-preservation," you muttered, but neither of them seemed to care.

"Boooring!" Ni-ki said immediately, grabbing your shoulders and steering you toward the entrance of the secret passage. "Now, let’s go. We’ve got a password to change."

You groaned, already regretting every life choice that had led you to this moment.

You all snuck out of the astronomy tower heading toward the Gryffindor Tower with hushed footsteps and quick glances over your shoulders. Jungwon—still posing as the Gryffindor prefect—was striding ahead with a perfect air of authority, his shoulders squared, and his expression sharp.

You and Ni-ki, on the other hand, trailed behind him with exaggeratedly guilty faces.

"Slouch more," Jungwon hissed over his shoulder, his voice clipped and stern. "You’re supposed to look like you’ve been caught red-handed."

"I am slouching!" Ni-ki shot back in a loud whisper, looking offended. "I’m a professional at looking guilty, thank you very much."

You rolled your eyes, muttering, "Not exactly something to be proud of, Ni-ki."

Ni-ki ignored you, but when a group of Gryffindor students turned the corner, his whole demeanor changed in an instant. He widened his eyes, hung his head, and even dragged his feet slightly, looking every bit the part of a student who’d just been caught in the act of breaking the rules.

Jungwon glared at you both, his performance flawless. "I can’t believe the two of you thought stealing sweets from the kitchens was a good idea," he said in a loud, scolding tone that echoed through the corridor.

You couldn’t help but cringe at his words. The act was working. The group of Gryffindor students didn’t even give you a second glance as they walked by, probably assuming you were just another pair of troublemakers getting told off by a prefect.

As soon as the students disappeared around the corner, Ni-ki snickered, nudging you with his elbow. "See? We’re naturals."

"Or completely insane," you shot back, still uneasy about the whole plan.

Jungwon, still fully in character, glanced back at you both with a dramatic sigh. "Would you two focus? We’re almost there."

You tried to steady your nerves as you approached the portrait of the Fat Lady guarding the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. Jungwon cleared his throat, adjusted his posture, and stepped forward, looking every bit the part of the Gryffindor prefect he was impersonating.

The Fat Lady’s eyes opened, and she squinted down at him. "Oh, it’s you. Back already?" she asked, her tone laced with curiosity.

"Yes," Jungwon replied smoothly, his voice mimicking the prefect’s perfectly. "I need to update the password."

You blinked, silently impressed at how calm and composed he sounded.

The Fat Lady raised an eyebrow. "Password? I wasn’t informed about any changes."

"It was a last-minute decision," Jungwon said with an air of authority. "The headmaster’s orders. You know how these things go."

The Fat Lady hummed, clearly hesitant but not suspicious enough to question him further. "All right, then. What’s the new password?"

Jungwon hesitated for the briefest moment before glancing back at Ni-ki, who grinned like the Cheshire Cat and mouthed, Quidditch losers.

Jungwon’s lips twitched in amusement before he turned back to the Fat Lady, his expression serious. "The new password is... Quidditch glory."

You bit back a snort, realizing Jungwon had changed Ni-ki’s suggestion at the last second to make it less obvious.

The Fat Lady sighed dramatically, as if she had better things to do, and said, "Fine. Password updated. You may enter."

"Thank you," Jungwon said politely, though he made no move to actually enter the common room.

As soon as the portrait swung open, revealing the cozy Gryffindor common room beyond, Jungwon turned to the both of you, a victorious grin spreading across his borrowed face.

"Mission accomplished," he whispered.

"That was way too easy," Ni-ki muttered, his grin matching Jungwon’s.

You crossed your arms, glaring at them both. "You’re absolutely ridiculous. You know that, right?"

"Maybe," Jungwon said with a shrug, still grinning as he gestured for you both to follow him back down the corridor. "But you can’t deny it was brilliant."

While the three of you hurried away from the Gryffindor Tower, you couldn’t help but feel reluctant admiration. They’d actually pulled it off.

--

The three of you had just barely made it to the dungeon when Ni-ki abruptly stopped in his tracks, throwing his arms out dramatically. Unfortunately, you and Jungwon were too close behind him to react in time, and the result was a chaotic collision that sent all three of you toppling to the floor in a heap of limbs and groans.

"Ni-ki, what the hell?!" Jungwon hissed, his voice low but seething as he tried to untangle himself from the mess. "Why did you stop—"

Ni-ki clamped a hand over Jungwon’s mouth, his eyes wide with panic. "Shh!" he whispered harshly, pointing down the corridor.

You followed his gaze and felt your stomach drop. There, standing just ahead, were the Gryffindor prefect and Snape. Talking together.

Oops.

Jungwon immediately shut up, his annoyance replaced by alarm. The three of you scrambled to your feet in a flurry of panic, trying not to make a sound. Without wasting a moment, Ni-ki and Jungwon each grabbed one of your arms and dragged you into the shadows, finding a small alcove to hide in.

Before you could even catch your breath, you were being pressed up against the cold stone wall, Ni-ki and Jungwon on either side of you, their bodies shielding you from view.

"Could you two not squish me?" you muttered under your breath, glaring up at them.

"Would you rather get caught by Snape?" Ni-ki shot back, not taking his eyes off the corridor as he peeked out nervously. "No? Then shut it."

You huffed but stayed quiet, noticing how tense Ni-ki’s shoulders were. He was keeping a sharp eye on Snape and the prefect, ready to make a run for it if needed.

Meanwhile, Jungwon, who was on your other side, was shifting uncomfortably. You glanced up at him and froze when you noticed his face. His features were no longer those of the Gryffindor prefect—they were morphing back into his own, the effects of the Polyjuice Potion clearly wearing off.

Jungwon groaned softly, clutching his stomach as he leaned forward, pressing his face into the crook of your neck for support. You stiffened at the sudden closeness, your hand instinctively patting his back in a futile attempt to comfort him.

"Jungwon," you whispered, worried. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," he mumbled against your neck, his breath warm against your skin. "Just... feels weird."

"Ugh, you’re so dramatic," Ni-ki muttered, glancing back at you two briefly before turning his attention back to the corridor. "You’ll be fine in like two seconds. Just don’t throw up on—"

"Ni-ki, shut up," Jungwon snapped, though his voice was muffled against your neck.

You sighed, your free hand still awkwardly patting his back. "This is ridiculous," you muttered under your breath.

"I hereby declare that is your everyday quote," Ni-ki quipped with a smirk, though his expression quickly turned serious as he peeked out again. "They’re still there. Snape looks like he’s about to murder someone—wait, no that’s just his normal face expression."

Jungwon groaned again, and you felt him lean more of his weight against you. Curse his height. He wasn’t heavy, but having him this close was flustering you more than you wanted to admit.

"Okay, seriously," you hissed, glaring at Ni-ki, "can we not just stay here forever? Do something!"

"Oh sure," Ni-ki whispered sarcastically, glancing back at you with an incredulous look. "Why don’t I just go up to Snape and ask him how his day was? Brilliant plan."

"Ni-ki, I swear—"

"Guys," Jungwon interrupted, his voice steadier now. He finally pulled back from your neck, his features fully his own again. He stood up straight, though he still looked a little pale. "I think they’re leaving."

All three of you froze, holding your breaths as you listened. Sure enough, the sound of Snape’s low voice and the prefect’s murmured responses grew fainter, followed by the faint echo of footsteps retreating down the corridor.

Ni-ki let out a dramatic sigh of relief. "Finally. I thought we were done for."

Jungwon rubbed his face, still looking a little worse for wear. "That was way too close."

"You think?" you said, glaring at them both. "If we’d been caught, I would’ve been the one blamed, thanks to you two dragging me into this mess."

"Aw, but you love us," Ni-ki said with a cheeky grin, throwing an arm around your shoulder.

You rolled your eyes. "I’m seriously reconsidering that."

Jungwon smirked, finally looking a bit more like himself again. "Come on, let’s get out of here before someone else shows up."

And just as Jungwon finished speaking, the grating, maniacal laughter of Peeves echoed through the corridor. The sound made all three of you freeze, and before you could react, the troublemaking poltergeist popped out of the stone floor with a giggle, his mischievous eyes gleaming.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Peeves crooned, eyeing the three of you with a grin. His voice echoed off the walls, and you couldn't help but feel a slight chill. "My favorite students, looking so cozy together. What’s the occasion?"

You all exchanged a glance, not sure whether to run or stay. Jungwon narrowed his eyes slightly, trying to look unbothered, while Ni-ki rolled his eyes dramatically. "What do you want, Peeves?" he asked, arms crossing over his chest.

Peeves floated around you, his presence more annoying than anything. "Oh, nothing much," he said, his voice high-pitched with glee. "Just wondered if you’ve got any new pranks up your sleeves, eh? Or is it something more... personal going on here?" He wiggled his eyebrows, a knowing smirk plastered on his face.

Ni-ki glanced at Jungwon and then shrugged. "We’ll tell you when the time comes," he said, clearly uninterested in revealing too much to the troublesome ghost.

But Peeves wasn't done yet. His eyes gleamed with mischief as he started to circle the three of you like a hawk. "Oh, I see!" he giggled, pointing a bony finger at each of you in turn. "Someone's got tension!" He practically cackled with delight, floating in a circle around you as he grinned widely. "Little love triangle, eh? How exciting! You two," he pointed at Jungwon and Ni-ki, "are practically glued to her, and they can’t get enough of you! Is this the new prank? Get caught up in a web of romantic mischief? Oh, I can’t wait to see how this plays out!"

You groaned, your face burning as both Jungwon and Ni-ki tensed up, eyes widening in response.

Peeves continued to cackle as he floated higher, his laughter echoing down the hall. "I’ll be keeping an eye on you, my favorite troublemakers! I’ll be back for the show!" With a final teasing wink, Peeves disappeared through the stone wall with a loud, echoing "Whee!"

You let out a deep sigh, your embarrassment palpable. Jungwon was rubbing his forehead in frustration, and Ni-ki simply looked amused, though there was a hint of irritation in his eyes.

"I swear, Peeves will be the death of us," Jungwon muttered, shaking his head as he turned back to you.

You couldn't help but laugh, despite everything.

And with that, the three of you slipped out of the alcove and hurried back toward the Slytherin common room, your heart still pounding from the close call.

The prank ended exactly how you’d expected—utter chaos.

A horde of Gryffindors had been locked out of their common room for hours, their frustration echoing down the corridors. The Fat Lady was flustered beyond belief, huffing indignantly about how her painting had been “tampered with,” and the Gryffindor prefect was storming through the castle, barking out accusations with a vengeance.

McGonagall’s sharp eyes had swept through the Great Hall during dinner, suspicion evident in her expression as she tried to pinpoint the culprits. Somehow, though, by some miracle, you, Jungwon, and Ni-ki had remained completely unnoticed.

The three of you had kept your heads down and your poker faces on, acting as if you didn’t have a single clue what had happened. You couldn’t believe you’d gotten away with it. Again.

Which is exactly what you were currently discussing as you stood in Zonko’s Joke Shop, watching Jungwon and Ni-ki carefully examine the shelves for their next batch of mischief supplies.

"I still don’t understand how we weren’t caught," you said, leaning casually against the display of dungbombs as you crossed your arms. "McGonagall knew something was up."

"That’s because we’re geniuses," Ni-ki said without looking up from the Extendable Ears he was inspecting. "Obviously."

You snorted. "Right, because geniuses trip over their own feet and nearly get us caught in the process."

"Hey!" Ni-ki turned to you with an exaggerated look of offense. "I saved us. My quick thinking is the only reason we got out of there alive."

"Your quick thinking?" Jungwon interjected, holding up a Puking Pastille for inspection. "I’m pretty sure my plan got us through the whole thing. You just stood there looking like a lost Kneazle."

Ni-ki huffed and turned his attention back to the shelf. "You’re both ungrateful. I should stop sharing my brilliance with you."

"Brilliance, huh?" you teased, smirking as you reached over to nudge him. "That’s what we’re calling it now?"

Ni-ki shot you a mock glare but didn’t move away. In fact, he leaned into you more, resting his elbow lazily on your shoulder as if you were his personal armrest.

You tried to shrug him off. "Ni-ki, get off me. I’m not furniture."

He grinned, leaning his weight on you even more. "But you’re so sturdy and reliable."

"Sturdy and reliable," you repeated flatly. "That’s it. You’re banned from using me as a leaning post."

"You love it," he teased, winking at you.

Meanwhile, Jungwon was completely unbothered, now inspecting a box of Screaming Yo-yos. "You’re letting him get away with that?" he said without looking up.

"I’ve given up," you replied, sighing dramatically.

"You should’ve given up a long time ago," Jungwon said with a chuckle. Then, as if on cue, he reached over and started playing with a strand of your hair, twirling it between his fingers.

"Seriously?" you muttered, glancing between them.

Jungwon just smirked, not stopping as he held your gaze. "What? I’m bored."

"You two are impossible," you grumbled, though you didn’t actually make any effort to stop either of them. This was normal. It was just how things were.

As you scanned the shelves, you spotted a few products that caught your eye. Grinning mischievously, you a few different materials like a pack of Decoy Detonators.

"That’s what you’re going with?" Ni-ki asked, glancing at your choices.

"At least I’m not taking twenty minutes to pick a single product," you shot back, raising an eyebrow at the two of them.

"Hey, these decisions are important," Jungwon said, tossing the Screaming Yo-yos into his own pile.

"Right," you said, rolling your eyes. "Because you totally need three different kinds of itching powder."

"You’ll thank us later," Ni-ki said confidently.

"Oh, I’m sure," you replied dryly, though you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips.

"Y/N," Ni-ki called dramatically, spinning toward you with a packet of Nose-Biting Teacups in his hand. "Do you think I should get this? Imagine serving tea to Professor Snape. A little nibble on the nose might do him some good."

You snorted. "Yeah, if you want to end up scrubbing cauldrons for the rest of the year. I’m not covering for you if you actually go through with that."

"Don’t lie. You’d do it," he said, grinning as he nudged your side with his elbow.

"You’d fold in two seconds if he gave you the look," Jungwon added, smirking as he placed a jar of Self-Inking Quills into his growing pile of products.

"Excuse me," you shot back, crossing your arms. "I’ve never folded. Unlike you two. Don’t think I forgot about the time Snape caught you both in the Potions classroom after hours, and you blamed it on Peeves."

"That was a solid plan," Ni-ki argued, placing a hand on his chest like he was offended.

Jungwon snorted. "It wasn’t a plan at all. You just blurted the first thing that came to your mind."

"And it worked," Ni-ki shot back defensively. "He didn’t question it, did he?"

"That’s because Peeves actually caused a ruckus ten minutes later," you said, shaking your head.

Ni-ki grinned mischievously. "What can I say? I’m lucky like that."

"Lucky, my foot," Jungwon muttered, shaking his head as he turned to you. "Be honest—who’s the bigger liability between the two of us?"

You paused, tilting your head as if you were seriously considering the question. "Do I have to pick just one? Because you’re both pretty equally—"

"Oi!" Ni-ki interrupted, poking your arm. "Traitor!"

Jungwon smirked, clearly enjoying your response. "I knew it. We’re a team of liabilities. Perfect."

"Speak for yourselves," you retorted, pretending to brush off your clothes in mock pride. "I’m the only one who’s remotely responsible here."

"Responsible? You?" Ni-ki raised an eyebrow, feigning disbelief. "Let’s rewind to the time you accidentally lit a cauldron on fire in Charms class."

"That was one time," you argued, glaring at him. "And it wasn’t my fault! You’re the one who—"

"See?" Jungwon cut in, smirking as he held up a hand to stop you. "The cauldron was calling you a black sheep."

"More like the cauldron was calling me innocent," you quipped back, earning laughs from both of them.

Ni-ki slung an arm around your shoulders, grinning widely. "You’re hilarious when you’re trying to defend yourself, you know that?"

You rolled your eyes but didn’t shrug him off. "And you’re insufferable, but here we are."

"See? That’s why we like you," Jungwon said, giving you a small, playful smile as he tapped your forehead lightly with the end of a Decoy Detonator box.

You narrowed your eyes at him, reaching up to swat his hand away. "I feel so honored. Truly."

The three of you dissolved into laughter again, the teasing bouncing between you like a well-practiced routine.

"Alright, mischief-makers," you said finally, glancing at their overflowing piles of joke products. "Are we done here? Or are you planning to bankrupt yourselves buying the entire shop?"

Ni-ki grinned, holding up a box of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. "This? Totally worth going broke for."

"And this," Jungwon added, lifting a set of Decoy Detonators, "is going to make next week very interesting."

You did not doubt it.

That week was very interesting indeed. Not only did Ni-ki and Jungwon set up prank after prank, but they also enlisted Peeves in some of them, which turned everything more chaotic.

One day, they filled the Great Hall with floating soap bubbles that burst into confetti whenever they popped, sending the entire school into fits of laughter (or groans, depending on the person).

However, amidst the chaos, Ni-ki and Jungwon had forgotten a major thing: studying.

By the time they realized it, they were behind on a lot of assignments and homework in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Divination, Muggle Studies, and History of Magic. The weight of their neglected schoolwork loomed over them, and the urgency to catch up finally hit.

So, what did they do to catch up? Well, they obviously asked you for help! You, who were currently in the library, reading up on Arithmancy.

You were deeply engrossed in your book when you heard footsteps approaching. Glancing up, you saw Ni-ki and Jungwon, looking sheepish and a bit desperate.

“y/n! Our sweet little genius prodigy,” Ni-ki started, sliding into the seat across from you. Jungwon took the seat next to him, both of them looking at you with pleading eyes.

“Yes?” you replied, raising an eyebrow. You had a feeling you knew where this was going.

“We need your help,” Jungwon admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’re really behind on our assignments. Like, really behind.”

You sighed, closing your book and giving them both a stern look. “You know, if you spent half as much time studying as you do planning pranks, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Ni-ki pouted. “But studying isn’t nearly as fun.”

“Maybe not,” you conceded, “but it’s kind of necessary if you don’t want to fail.”

“We know,” Jungwon said quickly. “That’s why we’re here. You’re the best at all of this stuff, and we need your help to catch up. Please?”

You looked between the two of them, their eyes wide with genuine desperation.

“Alright,” you said finally after a moment, earning relieved smiles from both of them. “I’ll help you. But this means no more pranks for a while. Deal?”

“Deal,” they chorused eagerly.

“Okay then,” you said, pulling out your notes and books. “Let’s get to work.”

For the next several hours, you worked with Ni-ki and Jungwon, helping them catch up on their assignments. You explained concepts, went over notes, and even quizzed them to make sure they understood the material. It was a long process, but by the end of the day, they had made significant progress.

"You’re a miracle worker, honeydrop. We’d probably be in detention without you." Jungwon chuckled, shoving his parchment into his bag.

"Probably?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Okay, definitely," he corrected with a sheepish grin.

"Just don’t expect me to do this every time," you warned, standing up and gathering your things. "Next time, you’re on your own."

Ni-ki threw an arm around your shoulders as you walked out of the library together. "Sure, sure. Whatever you say, doll."

You rolled your eyes at the casual nickname, though you didn’t bother shrugging his arm off—it was just his way of being overly familiar. “I’m serious. If I catch you two sneaking off to pull another prank before you’ve finished at least one essay, I’m not helping you anymore.”

“Duly noted,” Ni-ki replied smoothly, though his grin said otherwise. He squeezed your shoulder playfully. “But you have to admit, life would be so boring without us.”

“Boring?” you shot back, looking up at him incredulously. “I’d actually have time to focus on my own work without you two dragging me into whatever chaos you’ve cooked up.”

Jungwon laughed softly from your other side. “Oh, come on. You love it. Admit it. Deep down, you’d miss us if we left you alone for more than a day.”

You didn’t answer immediately, instead giving them a sidelong glance. “Maybe I’d miss the pranks more,” you teased, earning matching gasps of mock offense from both boys.

Ni-ki stopped in his tracks, clutching his chest dramatically. “Ouch. Right in the heart, doll.”

Jungwon smirked, tilting his head. “She’s lying. Look at her—she’s smiling. That’s the face of someone who couldn’t survive without us.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the small grin tugging at your lips. “If you’re trying to flatter yourselves, you’re doing a terrible job.”

Ni-ki leaned closer, his face just a little too smug. “We don’t need to flatter ourselves, doll. We know we’re your favorite people in the world.”

“Favorite headaches, maybe,” you retorted, shoving his arm off your shoulders. He stumbled back, laughing, while Jungwon gave you an approving nod.

“She’s catching on,” Jungwon said, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Soon enough, she’ll be the one dragging us into trouble.”

You snorted. “Not likely. I’ve already got my hands full with you two.”

The next few days were oddly peaceful, given the usual chaos that surrounded Ni-ki and Jungwon. You found yourself spending more time in the library with them, helping them catch up on homework, and surprisingly, they actually stayed focused—most of the time. Though, that didn’t stop them from sneaking in their usual brand of teasing. Because they kept finding ways to distract you. Ni-ki, as usual, was the first to break the silence.

"You're pretty good at this stuff, huh?" he murmured, stretching lazily beside you. His hand casually brushed against your thigh, and he rested his arm there like it was the most normal thing in the world. "How come you're so smart and yet still hang out with us? Makes no sense."

You glanced at him, trying to keep your cool. "I don't mind," you answered, your voice surprisingly steady despite how flustered his touch was making you. "Besides, someone has to keep you two in check."

Jungwon, who had been silently working on his own homework beside you, suddenly lifted his head. His soft exhale brushed against your neck as he settled his face there, huffing dramatically. "Ugh, Herbology is impossible. How do you even remember all these plants and their properties? It’s like a nightmare." He whined, his voice muffled against your skin.

You stiffened at his proximity, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. "I don't know," you muttered, trying to ignore the way his body pressed against yours. "I just study."

"Yeah, but you’re really good at it," Jungwon murmured, not moving away. He let his lips brush against your neck for a moment, and you could feel your face heat up instantly.

Meanwhile, Ni-ki hadn't missed the opportunity. He leaned even closer, his hand subtly shifting on your thigh as he whispered, "We should study more with you. You make it so fun."

You shot him a warning glance, but he just grinned back, unbothered. "You’re making me sound like a distraction, you know," you said, trying to focus on your notes again, though your concentration was rapidly slipping away.

Jungwon grinned against your neck. "Oh, you are a distraction. But you're a good kind of distraction."

Before you could protest, Ni-ki leaned in closer, resting his head on your shoulder with a dramatic sigh. "We’re your favorite chaos, right?" he said, his voice teasing but sincere.

Despite the flurry of butterflies in your stomach, you couldn’t help but smile. "You two are definitely something," you said, trying to sound unaffected even as your heart raced. "But I really need to get this done."

You really tried to ignore the two heads resting against your shoulders, but that was an impossible task. Ni-ki’s breath was warm against your skin, and his hand was still resting on your thigh, now with an almost casual possessiveness. Jungwon, on the other hand, was so close his soft exhalations tickled the nape of your neck, and his cheek was pressed lightly against yours as he hummed in contentment.

Despite your best efforts to focus on your work, it was becoming increasingly difficult. The pages in front of you blurred as your heart rate picked up. The library now felt suffocating, and you realized that it wasn’t just the assignment that had your attention—it was the way they were both so close, almost invading your space in a way that made it impossible to concentrate.

"Are you actually going to study?" Ni-ki murmured, his voice low and teasing, but you could hear the undercurrent of something more in it. His fingers shifted slightly, brushing your leg in a way that made you stiffen, but you didn’t pull away. You were almost too aware of how your body reacted to them.

Jungwon, seemingly oblivious to your internal turmoil, nuzzled closer against your neck, his soft, slow breaths doing nothing to help you stay calm. “I think I’m helping you study,” he said in that playful tone of his, making you shiver. “Us being this close will help you focus, right?”

Your pulse quickened at the thought. You hadn’t been aware of the shifting dynamic until now—of how their subtle touches, the way they leaned into you, seemed to be becoming more than just playful teasing. Every little move felt like an invitation for more, and you were quickly losing the battle to stay composed.

"Guys," you said, attempting to sound stern, though the breathlessness in your voice betrayed you. "You’re making it impossible to study like this."

They didn’t move. They didn’t even respond with words, but you could feel the weight of their attention on you. Ni-ki’s grip on your thigh tightened slightly, and Jungwon pressed his nose gently against your underjaw, both of them silently daring you to pull away.

But you didn’t. And that was what surprised you the most—how you didn’t mind the closeness, how you didn’t want to push them away.

"Maybe we can help you concentrate in other ways," Ni-ki whispered, his voice lowering with an edge of amusement, and you could feel him grinning against your skin.

You let out a shaky breath, knowing that with them, studying was the last thing you were going to accomplish today.

They were like two koalas clinging to you, making it so hard to think clearly. Every time you shifted, Ni-ki would let out a soft sigh, his fingers grazing your thigh, and Jungwon would press his face more firmly into the crook of your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

Your handwriting became more erratic as you tried to force yourself to write, but your focus kept drifting back to them, they were distracting in the best and worst way. You tried to shift slightly, attempting to get some space, but instead, they just adjusted and got even closer.

"You’re really not gonna study, are you?" Ni-ki's voice was a low tease, his chin now resting on your shoulder as he looked at your textbook with a mock frown. His fingers tracing little patterns against your thigh.

Jungwon, still in his spot on your neck, let out a small hum of agreement. "I think we’re doing more for your concentration than you give us credit for."

You were about to protest, but then Jungwon shifted slightly, brushing his lips against your ear as he murmured, "You’re so tense. Are we making you nervous?" His voice was soft, but the way he said it made your pulse quicken. You could practically feel the smirk on his lips.

Ni-ki chuckled at your reaction, the sound vibrating through his chest. "You’re cute when you try to act unaffected." His hand squeezed your thigh gently, adding more heat to the already overwhelming situation.

It was getting hard to think, let alone focus on your homework. You couldn’t deny how their touches made your heart race, how the closeness felt different than it ever had before. You were surrounded by them—so close, so intimate in a way that felt almost too personal, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to move them off.

Instead, you sighed, giving up on trying to study. "You two are unbelivable," you muttered, but there was no real heat in your words. They were both too close, too comfortable, and the way they looked at you, the way they made you feel, left you unsure if you wanted them to stop.

Ni-ki grinned at your words, his hand moving slowly up your leg. "Good, we’re making progress," he teased, leaning in close. "You needed a break anyway."

Jungwon, now pulling away just enough to meet your gaze, smiled warmly. "We’ll help you out. Maybe not with homework, but definitely with...other things."

As they both made themselves even more comfortable, you were stuck between wanting to push them away and wanting to stay right where you were.

You had no idea what had gotten into them, but you also weren’t quite sure what had gotten into you. They had always been the ones to tease and be touchy, but now, as they both clung to you, you realized you could play along—maybe even enjoy it. Without thinking too much, you let the playful side of you take over.

You moved just slightly, letting your fingers brush against Ni-ki’s arm as you leaned back into him, and before he could respond, you slid your hand down to his wrist, just enough to make him pause. He looked at you, slightly taken aback by the sudden shift in dynamics. His usual confident smirk faltered for just a second before he recovered, but you could tell he wasn’t expecting it.

You smiled innocently back, leaning into Jungwon next, letting your fingers trace along his jawline with a teasing touch. His breath hitched ever so slightly, his eyes locking with yours, and you saw the flustered warmth creeping up his neck. He leaned into your touch, just like he had done with you so many times before, but now you could feel him melt under your fingertips.

"Guess we’re not the only ones getting touchy, huh?" Ni-ki teased, his voice light, but there was a nervous edge to it now as his breath caught when you moved your hand to his shoulder, massaging it lightly.

Jungwon, still resting against you, let out a shaky laugh, but his voice was softer, almost breathless. "You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?"

You raised an eyebrow, keeping your hand on his chest for a moment, letting your fingers play with the fabric of his shirt. "You’re the ones who started it," you said, your voice low and playful, but with an underlying challenge in it.

You felt their reactions before you even saw them clearly—the way their breaths became more shallow, the way their eyes widened with surprise and something else.

Ni-ki’s lips parted as you moved your hand lower, and you noticed his usual teasing grin soften into something more real. He didn’t know how to respond to this change in the atmosphere, and for a moment, you reveled in the power of it. Jungwon, too, was a little quieter now, his hand moving to rest on your other thigh, fingers just brushing lightly, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to act but didn’t want to pull away either.

They were both flustered, unsure of how to navigate the space you’d suddenly put them in. You could feel them melt under your touch, their usual confidence slipping away with each movement you made. You had the power now, and it was a strange feeling—seeing them both so lost in this little game you were playing.

"Well?" you asked, a playful smirk tugging at your lips as you leaned back into them. "Aren’t you two gonna study? Or am i too distracting?"

Ni-ki chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck, his usual charm faltering just slightly. "Guess we’ve got some competition now."

Jungwon, on the other hand, gave a soft sigh, his face flushed. "I think we might be in over our heads."

You had the upper hand now.

And you took full advantage of it.

After that day in the library, you couldn’t help but notice how completely Jungwon and Ni-ki would fall into your rhythm. They were practically putty in your hands. Every touch, no matter how small, sent them into a flurry of reactions—flushed cheeks, quiet sighs, soft whines when you weren’t paying attention to them. They’d melt at even the smallest gesture from you. Whether it was brushing their arm casually or stealing a glance, it was as if they couldn’t get enough. Every ounce of attention you gave them, they greedily soaked it up, and you relished in that power, in knowing you could make them act this way. Knowing you were the only person that could make them act this way.

They were so used to being the ones in control, but now it seemed they couldn’t stop themselves from doing whatever you wanted. It was almost comical how quickly they fell into line, but also a little thrilling. You were the one holding the strings now, and they seemed perfectly content to follow wherever you led.

And of course, your friends had noticed. You weren't sure how you didn't see it earlier, but Yuna, Hannie, Karina, Yujin, and Leeseo had all caught on. They’d managed to sneak you away from Jungwon and Ni-ki one afternoon, a tactic you recognized as them giving you a moment of peace away from them.

You sat in a quiet corner of the courtyard with them, all of them looking at you with knowing grins, their eyes twinkling with mischief and curiosity.

“So,” Yuna began, leaning forward with an exaggerated whisper, “spill. What’s going on between you and those two?”

Hannie smirked, arms crossed, “Yeah, you've got them wrapped around your finger. It’s so obvious.”

You blinked, suddenly feeling put on the spot. “I don’t know what you mean,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant, but your heart skipped a beat. Were they really so obvious?

Leeseo leaned in, her voice playful. “Come on, don’t pretend. Jungwon and Ni-ki have been practically following you around like lost pets. It’s cute, but we’re curious. What’s going on?”

Karina raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t think you had it in you, honestly. Those two are impossible to keep up with. But somehow, you’ve got them so... docile.”

You let out a breath, finally breaking into a sheepish smile. “It just kind of... happened. They started getting clingy, and I just played along. And now? I don’t know. They’re just... there.”

Yujin grinned, tapping her fingers on the table. “You know, they’ve been doing everything you say. I saw Ni-ki nearly burn his potions notes because you told him to stop distracting you. It’s like watching a puppy trying to be obedient.”

Hannie chuckled. “So, they’re melting under your touch, huh?”

You couldn’t help the blush creeping onto your face as the realization hit you. “Maybe,” you muttered, feeling a little embarrassed, but also a little proud.

“Are you sure it’s just them being clingy?” Yuna asked, her tone teasing. “I mean, they’ve been following you around for years.”

You sighed, looking around at your friends’ grinning faces, knowing you couldn’t get away with playing innocent anymore. “I guess... maybe I do. But it’s not like I’m doing it on purpose. They just—"

“They just can’t resist you,” Karina finished for you, smirking. “Come on, don’t act like you haven’t noticed.”

It was clear your friends were having way too much fun with this, but honestly, you weren’t sure if you could deny it any longer. You’d noticed how they seemed to change when they were around you. Jungwon would act like he couldn’t wait to do anything you asked, and Ni-ki? He’d become all soft and affectionate, which was unlike him.

“It’s okay, though,” Yujin said, her voice light. “We’re not judging you. We just want to know when you’re finally going to admit it.”

You raised your hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. Maybe I have a little bit of power over them. But I’m not making a big deal out of it.”

They all laughed, clearly not believing you. You were probably just as entertained as they were by how much you could get away with. But as you looked at the amused faces around you, you also felt a little something stir in your chest. A strange mix of pride and something else.

You were, without a doubt, in control of the situation now. But what you didn’t know was just how much longer that power would last before things got a little... more complicated.

And it did get complicated.

Before, they had been clingy, constantly around you, leaning on you, making their presence known. But now? Now, they were acting possessive. They’d follow you everywhere, make sure they were always by your side, and the glares they shot at any male student who got too close to you? Intense. It wasn’t just playful teasing anymore. It was like they were marking their territory without saying a word.

And that’s when it hit you.

All of this? It wasn’t just the usual chaos and fun. They liked you. They had to. No one acts like this unless they do.

But you weren’t sure. Not completely. You needed confirmation. And the best way to confirm a suspicion like this? You’d seen it done before in the most dramatic ways—jealousy. If they were really into you, you were certain they wouldn’t just sit back and let you spend time with someone else. They'd react, and you’d get your answer.

So, with that thought in mind, you decided to test this theory. What better way to do that than to make them confess in a fit of jealousy?

You didn’t want to hurt anyone, of course, but it was the only way to make sure. And you wouldn’t have to do it alone, which is where your two male friends, Jeongin and Jaehyun, came in. You trusted them, and they owed you a favor or two after all the times you’d helped them in the past.

The plan was simple—at least, in theory. You'd spend some time with Jeongin and Jaehyun, just enough to make Jungwon and Ni-ki notice. You knew they’d be watching. They always were, especially since the two of them had started acting this way. And once they did? Well, that would be when the fireworks started.

You carefully explained everything to Jeongin and Jaehyun, who both agreed to help you. They were on board, teasing you about how entertaining it would be to see how Jungwon and Ni-ki would react. Jeongin even joked that he could make them both "lose their minds." You weren’t sure if he was joking or not, but you were counting on him to keep it lighthearted.

The next day, the plan was set into motion. You’d intentionally sit next to Jeongin and Jaehyun in the grandhall, laughing at their jokes and engaging in casual conversation. You knew Jungwon and Ni-ki would be nearby, watching closely, their eyes following your every move. And, sure enough, the second you laughed too loud or shared a casual touch with Jeongin, you saw the shift.

Ni-ki's smirk faltered for a second before he looked away, crossing his arms tightly, his eyes narrowing. Jungwon was no better—his gaze had turned blank, his usually demeanor replaced by something else. The tension between the two of them was palpable, and you had to fight to keep a straight face.

As the evening wore on, the moments between you and Jeongin and Jaehyun became more exaggerated. You laughed louder, leaned closer, and gave Jeongin a playful push when he made a joke. Your heart raced with anticipation.

Sure enough, when you glanced over at Jungwon and Ni-ki, both of them were practically burning holes into you with their eyes. Jungwon was glaring at Jeongin, his jaw clenched, while Ni-ki was burning a hole in the wall in front of him.

The more you pushed, the more you noticed them getting restless. Ni-ki shifted in his seat, throwing a glance at Jungwon as if silently confirming that neither of them was happy with the situation. It was working.

But now, the hardest part—waiting.

You watched as they tried to play it cool, but every time you’d interact with Jeongin or Jaehyun, you could feel their eyes on you, and it became harder to pretend you weren’t aware of how they were watching.

Finally, when they were getting up to leave, Jeongin bumped into Ni-ki, giving him a playful smile and a casual, “Excuse me, mate,” before turning and walking away with Jaehyun.

That was when it all came to a head. You had just turned to leave the Grandhall when you felt two hands grip your wrist, pulling you back.

You turned to find Jungwon standing in front of you, his expression no longer calm. It was frustrated, a little wild, and it was clear he wasn’t happy.

“Did you have to do that?” he asked, his voice lower than usual, like he was trying to keep his cool but was failing miserably.

Ni-ki was right behind him, arms crossed, his eyes flicking from you to Jungwon and back. “Yeah,” he added, his voice tight. “What’s with you and them?”

You swallowed, keeping your composure. “What do you mean?”

“Cut the act,” Jungwon shot back, stepping a little closer, his hands clenched at his sides. “We both know what you’re doing.”

Your heart raced. There it was. You wanted them to say it. You wanted them to admit it, to confess how they felt.

“You two... are acting like children,” you said lightly, trying to keep your voice calm despite the whirlwind in your chest. “You know that, right?”

Ni-ki’s face twitched as he stepped forward. “We’re not the ones acting like that,” he muttered, his voice a mix of frustration and something else you couldn’t place. “You’re the one making us jealous.”

You smiled to yourself, the satisfaction bubbling up. The tension was finally broken, and now... all you had to do was wait for them to confess.

“Okay, what’s the big problem?” you asked, your voice calm but firm. “Why are you two acting like this?”

The words hung in the air, and for a long moment, neither of them said anything. They exchanged a quick, sharp glance, almost as if they were having a silent conversation.

Finally, Jungwon let out a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. He glared at the ground for a moment before looking up at you, his usual dimpled smile nowhere to be found.

“We’re not acting like this for no reason,” he started, his voice tense. “You think we’re just jealous for no reason?”

Ni-ki stepped forward then, his eyes searching yours. “We’re jealous,” he muttered, a bit of anger still lingering in his tone. “But it’s not just about Jaehyun, or you hanging out with Jeongin. It’s... you.”

You blinked, surprised. "Me?"

Jungwon shot him a look but then quickly turned back to you, his voice lowering, barely above a whisper. "We like you. We both do. And yeah, it’s frustrating seeing you with other people when we... we’ve been wanting to say something for a while now."

Ni-ki nodded, his usual smirk replaced by a more earnest expression. “We’re... we’re seriously into you, and it’s driving us crazy watching you get close to anyone else.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the realization settling in as you stared at them. It wasn’t just a theory anymore. They really did like you.

“You two... really?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, your mind racing as everything clicked into place.

Jungwon sighed, a small, frustrated laugh escaping him. "Yeah, really. You’re smart, you’re fun, and you make everything less... boring. But we didn’t know how to say it, okay? We’re not used to this kind of thing."

Ni-ki grinned nervously, his usual confidence returning in small doses. "And I guess we were trying to make you notice. Not the best way, but it worked, didn’t it?"

You couldn’t help but smile, a little overwhelmed by the admission. The teasing and the possessiveness—it was all a roundabout way of showing how they felt, even if it was a bit chaotic.

“I... didn’t expect this,” you admitted, your voice quiet. “I thought it was just you guys being, well, you.”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a slight smirk. "And you didn’t think we could actually be serious? We’ve been serious this whole time, just... not very good at showing it."

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the tension lifting as the realization hit you fully. “So, what now?”

Ni-ki stepped closer, his hand brushing lightly against yours as he looked at you with hope and uncertainty. “Well, we could start by not acting like children, and maybe... go on a real date sometime?”

Jungwon’s eyes softened, as he glanced at Ni-ki and then back at you. "Yeah, what he said. We’d like to take you out, properly. No pranks or anything."

You nodded, your heart racing in a way it hadn’t before. “I think that sounds good.”

--

The next day, you found yourself sitting in the Slytherin common room, the warmth of the fire crackling. The scent of hot chocolate in the air, the creamy drink topped with fluffy marshmallows—just the perfect comfort on a chilly evening. You were nestled between Jungwon and Ni-ki, both of them flanking you with matching sly smirks, looking too cute in their comfy clothes and the trio socks that you all had somehow decided to get together during one of your Hogsmeade visits.

Ni-ki was playfully nudging you, trying to steal the last marshmallow, and Jungwon had his arm casually draped over the back of the couch, but his focus was clearly on you.

“Seriously, you’re hogging the sweets,” Ni-ki teased, leaning in close to you, his breath warm against your cheek. “We should get more—”

“Only if you share them,” Jungwon interrupted, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. “I’m not letting you eat them all.”

The two of them went back and forth in their usual playful manner, but this time it felt different. You were caught between them, nestled comfortably in the middle as they leaned closer to you.

Then, as if in sync, they both paused, their teasing grins melting into something softer. Ni-ki’s eyes were unusually warm, and Jungwon’s expression was full of affection.

“You know,” Ni-ki whispered, his voice low but sincere, “we love you.”

Jungwon nodded in agreement, his hand gently brushing against yours as he leaned in. “Yeah. We love you,” he repeated, his voice just above a murmur.

Before you could even respond, they both kissed your cheeks—Ni-ki on one side, Jungwon on the other—and you froze for a moment, the gentle pressure of their lips leaving you breathless.

Your heart raced in your chest, and for a moment, you felt like you were floating. Their love made you feel safe, cherished, and incredibly happy.

You looked between the two of them, a smile tugging at your lips as you met their gazes. “I love you both, too,” you whispered.

You could see the light in both Jungwon and Ni-ki’s eyes flicker with pure happiness at your confession. They were both too stunned for a moment, leaving you the perfect opportunity to tease them.

Smiling mischievously, you shifted slightly so that you were closer to both of them. "Well," you began, resting your chin on Jungwon's shoulder while your hand found Ni-ki’s arm, "I guess that means you're both officially stuck with me now." You smirked, letting the words sink in, and watched as both of their faces softened.

Ni-ki rolled his eyes but grinned, leaning into you. “You make it sound like we’re not already stuck with you,” he teased, but you could feel his breath hitch slightly when you wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him closer.

Jungwon, who had been staring at you, blinked before leaning in as well. “Yeah, like there’s any way we’d want to get rid of you,” he said with a playful huff.

You took advantage of their playful words and pulled them both into a tight cuddle, which caused them both let out small, surprised noises as you enveloped them in your grip, holding them firmly.

“Now, now,” you teased, “you two are so easy to fold, aren’t you?” You could feel their shoulders relax as they practically molded to your side.

Ni-ki groaned, but there was no real protest in his voice. “You’re too comfy, stop making us weak,” he muttered, and you could practically feel him sinking into your embrace as if he couldn’t escape even if he tried. His body was warm against yours, and you could tell that he didn’t mind at all.

Jungwon’s head tipped slightly back to rest against yours, his face softening. “You’re not gonna let us go, are you?” he asked with a half-smile, looking at you from the corner of his eye.

“Nope,” you answered firmly, enjoying the way their defenses crumbled under your touch. “You two are officially my cuddle buddies. And I think you both secretly love it.”

They both huffed, but there was no denying the way they leaned even further into you, practially melting into the cuddle. You couldn’t help but smile as you felt their breathing slow.

But the peace didn`t last when you suddenly felt a soft breath against your neck. It was Jungwon, his lips barely grazing your skin. Before you could react, Ni-ki’s lips followed suit, brushing against the opposite side of your neck.

A shiver ran through you at the unexpected warmth, and you gasped, your body tensing for just a moment before you settled back into their hold. They both hummed in response, clearly enjoying the effect they were having on you.

Jungwon’s kiss was gentle, his lips lingering a little longer, sending a spark of warmth straight to your chest. Ni-ki, on the other hand, kissed your neck with a more playful edge, his lips trailing soft, teasing touches as he moved closer to you.

“Relax,” Jungwon whispered against your skin, his breath sending a wave of goosebumps across your body. His hand gently brushed your hair back, before his lips returned to the delicate spot just under your ear.

Ni-ki, still clinging to you, pressed his lips closer to your neck, his touch light yet insistent. “You’re making this too easy,” he murmured, his voice full of teasing affection.

You could barely suppress the shiver that ran through you, as you felt their kisses deepen, both of them so close, almost impossibly close.

“Stop,” you gasped between breaths, though you couldn’t bring yourself to push them away. “You’re going to—”

“Going to what?” Ni-ki interrupted, his lips curling into a smirk against your skin. “Make you melt into our arms? Too late for that.”

Jungwon’s laugh was a soft, comforting sound, his lips now trailing further down your neck, leaving a warm, tingling path in their wake. He didn’t say anything, but you could feel his smile against your skin as he pulled you even closer.

Both of them were still so clingy, but you didn’t mind. In fact, you enjoyed it. You enjoyed how they both seemed to seek you out.

“You two really know how to make a girl weak,” you muttered with a soft laugh.

“And we’ll keep doing it,” Jungwon replied. “As long as you let us.”

You were completely okay with that.

Just then, from the stone wall, Peeves' head popped out. His grin was even wider this time, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he hovered before the three of you.

"I knew it!" Peeves cackled, his voice echoing through the common room. "I knew you three would end up together! It was just too perfect not to work out! Look at you, all tangled up in each other, the chaos—it’s meant to be!" He floated closer, eyes twinkling with glee as he looked at you, Jungwon, and Ni-ki. "Oh, you can’t fool me. You all make such a lovely little trio!"

You all paused, exchanging a glance. There was no point in arguing with Peeves—he was insufferable but often right in his own ridiculous way. With a collective sigh, you all decided to just humor him.

Jungwon rolled his eyes, but a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Oh, sure, Peeves. You figured us out," he said dryly, trying not to let Peeves get the best of him.

Ni-ki raised an eyebrow, his hand holding yours tightly. "Guess you’re not wrong," he said with a teasing grin. "But, really, did you have to show up like this? You're making it harder to pretend we don’t get along."

Peeves just giggled, enjoying every second of this. "Oh, but it’s too much fun to watch! You three are like a puzzle that finally clicked into place. And I knew I'd be the one to see it first!" He floated around you in a circle, his laughter loud and echoing. "Don’t worry, I won’t ruin it for you—yet. But I’ll be watching. Oh yes, I’ll be watching!"

With one final, exaggerated wink, Peeves disappeared back into the stone wall, his laughter still lingering in the air. You sighed and turned back to Jungwon and Ni-ki, who were both looking at you with affectionate smiles.

"Well, that was... something," you said, trying to shake off the awkwardness.

Jungwon nodded. "Yeah, but Peeves is right about one thing. We’re not going anywhere."

Ni-ki squeezed your hand. "Not ever."

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[hcneymooners]

⋆ i was young and sweet, and then something happened.

truck driver!sevika x female!reader. men & minors dni.

synopsis: you're back home after burning out your new york dreams. mississippi has been waiting for you and comes with the old and new—including the delivery driver that frequents your mother's boutique.

cw: truck driver!sevika, female!reader, age gap, older woman/younger woman, reader is in her twenties, modern!au, unresolved sexual tension, slow burn, strangers to lovers, returning to the hometown you worked to escape from, complex mother daughter relationships, non-sexual intimacy, mentions of grief and loss of a loved one, open (but very positive) ending.

notes: i hate this, just a bit. but please, please tell me what you think. send long asks, even. i love them. i love you.

It's the rat that skitters over your foot that sends you home.

You'd just climbed out of the endless well that is the New York subway, steadfastly avoiding eye contact with the man rocking back and forth right outside the stairwell. You feel a sense of shame as you refuse to look at him, a horrible aching feeling that speaks to you losing sight of your roots and where you came from.

Your most recently created playlist was blasting—aptly titled "songs that are what's wrong with me"—when you'd felt it. A heavy brush against your ankle and across the top of your foot. You looked down, almost in slow motion, and watched as the plump body of a well-fed city rat finished its travel across the top of your square-toe black flats.

You resist the urge to scream, cautious of seeming just as crazy as the man you keep refusing to look at. You hear him laugh and it makes you press your lips together until there are only two thin lines on your face. You contemplate dragging your heels out of your bag but you still have at least three blocks to go and you're tired and so sick of it all.

A billboard flashes across from you as you turn the corner: a woman's bright face with bleach-white teeth advertising a new aesthetic clinic that just opened approximately two streets away from where you live. You feel insane.

You open your phone and buy the plane ticket.

On the plane ride home, you dream of Talladega County. 

You haven’t been in years. The last time was when your mother took you on a “girls’ trip” where she told you that she didn’t love your father anymore, that she was leaving him. You had started crying, begging to go home because you could feel somewhere deep in your gut that he’d be gone by the time you came home. She told you he wouldn’t, promised you. 

You stared into her face, her features shadowed by the halo of the sun behind her head. She was tanned and beautiful—and everything you believed in. You’d calmed down, called him to tell him you loved him. He had said it back, his voice weary. 

He was gone when you got home, somewhere out in the thickets of Alabama where you had been only moments ago. 

In the dream, you stand in the fold in a tiny triangle bikini. It’s blue, but sometimes pink, and you have long black wet hair streaking all over you. Behind you, there's a field and dilapidated shacks—or maybe they’re houses only broken down by shame and time. 

In front of you hovers a buck with tall antlers. He's come and found you, pushes forward until his face is against your stomach and your upper body is in between his antlers like a sun. It's only this close that you can see the other antlers trapped on top of his, dripping blood off the bone. 

He's killed something. One of his own, maybe he’s gutted you. You begin to twirl in a circle as he herds you, Ethel Cain's throaty vocals invading you spiritually through your wired headphones until you settle your chin on a shotgun (when did that appear?) and look back at the buck. 

But beyond him now. Someone is looking at you. Come to me. You don’t know which of you is asking, including the animal.

When you land, you text your mother about your dream. She tells you to go see her psychic, that you can drive there straight after she picks you up. You’re not here yet? You text her. She doesn’t respond. You don’t check her location. You were never one for seeking answers. 

Welcome to Mississippi, the flight attendant tells you as you step out of the door. Her voice is chipper and bright, someone who clearly doesn’t see anything past the palm trees and pale Marlboro Lights. Thank you, you respond, for getting me here. You wonder if it's a little too intense to say thank you in this manner to someone who hasn’t talked to you for the entire flight.

But her eyes soften and maybe she sees something, maybe she knows that in your blood runs the waters of the Gulf Coast. Her mouth parts and out comes, welcome home.

🪽♱

Your mother is waiting outside baggage claim, leaning against her faded blue Cadillac—the one your grandmother always said would be the death of her. Her hair is different now, lighter where it used to be the same shade as yours, cut in a bob that frames her face and makes her look younger than her fifty-three years. You feel a sense of irritation at the change in color as if she’s taken something away from you. As much as she could annoy you, you loved that the resemblance between you used to be uncanny. 

When she sees you, she straightens, takes one last puff of her bubblegum pink vape before tucking it into her denim shorts’ pocket, and bounces on the tips of her white sandals. You can see slight redness along her brow this close to her, and needle marks from where she’s gotten her “preventative” Botox. It’s only a matter of time before she starts suggesting you join the club. 

"Look what the Gulf dragged in," she says, arms outstretched.

You let her sweep you into a hug, her perfume a perplexing mix of caramel and cinnamon. Maybe it’s the tightness of her hug, the silent admission that she missed you (because you never spoke about your feelings to one another) that causes your face to crumple and your body to shake. Your mother coos, the sound throaty from years of smoking, and rocks you back and forth. You’re blubbering about that fucking rat in New York, but she just knows you need this. 

Somehow, she gets you into the car and stuffs a stick of celery into your mouth, depositing a tiny tub of ranch and breaded chili wings into your lap. The drive from Gulfport to Bay St. Louis takes you along the coast, windows down despite the July heat. Salt air whips your hair around your face as you stare out at the water. It's different here—softer somehow than the aggressive Atlantic you'd grown accustomed to. The Gulf looks like it's breathing, with gentle rises and falls that match the rhythm of your chest.

"Angels is doing well," your mother says, referring to the boutique as if it's a third person in the car. You nod to show your listening, your front teeth break apart the body of another piece of celery. "Tourist season's good this year. The snowbirds are spending money."

You nod, watching pastel-colored houses roll by, their wrought iron balconies and weathered shutters telling stories of hurricanes survived and summer loves forgotten. Spanish moss hangs from live oaks like old women's hair, swaying in the breeze off the water.

"Shit, we need to stop for gas. I knew I should’ve filled her up before leaving," your mother announces, turning into a station that looks like it hasn't changed since 1975. The sign—Silver Cove Gas & Grocery—flickers in the late afternoon sun, neon just beginning to glow against the darkening sky. "Get me a Diet Coke, would you? And whatever you want." Yeah, you think, on my card.

As you step out of the car, the humidity wraps around you like a blanket, familiar in its weight. The feeling makes you think of your childhood best friend Ella, a broad-shouldered girl who used to come up behind you and hug you with a quarter of her true strength. Last time you checked (you’re always checking) she was a professional athlete, free from this town. 

The concrete beneath your feet is warm, and for a moment, you stand still, feeling the heat rise through the soles of your worn down ballet flats. It's nothing like New York pavement, which always feels cold somehow, even in summer. Maybe this is what makes you unlock your phone, find Ella’s Instagram, and send her a message. She probably won’t even see it, given she’s verified and has over two million followers. 

The bell above the door chimes as you enter, and the cashier—a teenager with braces and freckles—nods in recognition. "You're Nina’s girl," she says. Not a question. It doesn’t need to be. You have her face.

You're picking up your mother's Diet Coke from the cooler, and grabbing a Cola Lacaye for yourself, when you hear it—the deep rumble of a diesel engine pulling into the lot. Through the window plastered with faded beer advertisements and fishing tournament flyers, you see it: a massive black truck, clean despite the dusty roads, commanding the space around it like it owns the whole town. Maybe it does. It’s been a long time since you were back anyway. 

The driver's door opens, and a pair of heavy boots hit the ground first. Then legs in well-loved jeans, and finally, her—tall, with arms corded with muscle and dark hair pulled back in a short, practical braid. A scar runs down one side of her face, but it doesn't diminish her beauty; instead, it feels like a warning. This woman has survived things you can't imagine.

She walks steadily toward the store, and as she reaches for the door, your eyes meet through the glass. For a second, neither of you moves. Something passes between you—recognition, maybe, though you've never seen her before. Or perhaps it's just that you both seem out of place here, returned to a world that's both familiar and foreign.

The bell chimes again, and she's inside, the small space suddenly feeling smaller. She nods to the cashier—"Evening, Annie"—and heads straight for the cooler where you're still standing, Diet Coke clutched forgotten in your hand.

"Excuse me," she says, her voice lower than you expected, rougher. When you don't move immediately, one corner of her mouth quirks up. "Unless you're planning to buy all of those."

You step aside and say, “I was thinking about it.” 

She smiles fully as you continue watching as she reaches for a Diet Coke of her own and a package of cream-filled cookies in a blue wrapper. As she moves past you toward the counter, you catch a whiff of diesel and something sweeter—maybe vanilla, maybe just the sea.

"You're new," she says over her shoulder.

"I'm home," you correct her, surprising yourself with how right it feels to say it.

She smiles again, and this time you smile back. You stand in line behind her, your mind following the thick lines of her back as she reaches for her wallet and counts out some bills. Soon enough, she’s finished, and you pay for your own things before slipping out the door. Your mother waves giddily from the driver’s seat and you laugh a little, slightly touched at how glad she is to see you over and over again.

“You’re Nina’s daughter?” that gravelly voice asks and you turn your head to look over your shoulder.

“Yeah,” you say, an eyebrow raised in confusion.

“Your mom’s shop just got added to my delivery route. I see her every Thursday evening,” the woman says. “Guess I’ll be seeing you too.”

“Um, guess so,” you push out, your chest warming at the way she’s gazing down at you. She’s taller by a few inches, but the inches matter. You’re used to being the tallest around. 

She eyes you for a minute longer before making her way back to her truck. You watch until she’s back in the cab, then walk quickly to the Cadillac. As you slide in, your mother presses a kiss to your temple in thanks for her Diet Coke. 

“I see you’ve met Sevika,” she comments. “Strange little woman.”

“Little is not the word I would use to describe her.”

Your phone vibrates with a notification and you check it. It’s a rather sweet response to your Instagram DM. Hey, wow! This was a pleasant surprise. I’m doing great, how are you? You still look the same.

Sorry? You type back without thinking.

Lolll, don’t apologize. It’s not a bad thing. You always had a timeless face. 

Maybe you aren’t forgettable. At the same time you receive the message, your mother laughs.

🪽♱

"Absolutely not," your mother says, setting down her wine glass firmly on the kitchen counter. "You're supposed to be resting, [Name]."

You tilt your head, watching the condensation gather on her glass. The kitchen is the same as you remember—blue and white tiles with little anchors, ceiling fan that clicks when it spins too fast, the refrigerator covered in magnets from places neither of you have actually been.

"I need something to do, Mom. I didn't come back to sit around and count the ceiling tiles."

"What you need is to recover. Work is what made you break down and come back in the first place."

You sigh, picking at the label on your beer bottle. "That was different. That was sixty-hour weeks with a boss who thought weekends were a suggestion." You look up at her. "I’m afraid despite my best attempts, I’ve been corporate-pilled. I will collapse without any work. Just let me take the opening shift. You know you hate mornings anyway."

She narrows her eyes, looking so much like you it's unsettling. "Only mornings?"

"Only mornings," you agree. "I'll have the place ready when you come in at noon. Or one."

Her eyes narrow at the extra hour you’ve added on, but she looks away as she considers.

"Fine," she relents. "But if I see those little crease lines between your eyebrows coming back, I'm firing you."

“Harsh,” you quip, but you squeeze her shoulder as you get up to begin washing the dishes.

Angels by the Sea sits at the corner of Harbor Drive and Magnolia Street, a converted Victorian house painted the palest shade of pink, like the inside of a seashell. The sign—written in your great-aunt’s handwriting and preserved all these years—hangs from wrought iron brackets above the porch. Two white rocking chairs flank the entrance, inviting passersby to sit and watch the Gulf waters in the distance. You think they shouldn’t sit down. People tend to get stuck here. 

You unlock the front door at 8:15, earlier than necessary, but there's something about the morning light filtering through the stained glass transoms that feels sacred. Inside, the boutique is a carefully curated treasure trove: whitewashed wooden floors, antique display cases salvaged from a New Orleans department store, and clothes hanging from driftwood racks your grandfather made decades ago. 

Nothing has really changed and the way the store seems to be waiting for you lances through your chest like a harpoon.

The inventory is eclectic—sundresses in gauzy fabrics, handmade jewelry from local artisans, vintage-inspired swimwear, and the salt scrubs your mother makes in her kitchen. Everything smells faintly of spice and sea salt.

You feel the urge to break down again, but you refrain. Instead, you slide off your converse and socks, let your bare feet rake in the unswept gravel from travelers’ boots as you flip the sign to "Open" and turn on the small record player behind the counter. You sort through the stack of vinyl until you find it—A dusty handmade pink vinyl, titled “Unreleased.” As the needle drops and "Dust Bowl (Demo)" fills the space, you can't help but sway, your hips finding the rhythm naturally.

Ethel’s rich voice singing about blood-stained blondes feels right for this moment—this return to something that feels like yourself. You let your arms drift above your head, spin once in the empty shop, bare feet sliding across the whitewashed floors. No one's watching, and there's a freedom in dancing without worrying about looking graceful or composed. 

You twirl and twirl until you stop with a hand clutching over your stomach, dashing madly to the small employee restroom in the back to vomit into the rusted sink. You scrub it for the next twenty minutes with bleach, humming along as the record still spins. For the first time since stepping off the plane, you feel your shoulders drop. 

Your outfit today—a simple white spaghetti-strap tank and low-rise jeans you found in your old closet—feels like a revelation after years of pencil skirts and blazers. You'd forgotten what it feels like to have your collarbones exposed to the air, to feel fabric that moves with you rather than constrains.

When the song ends, you're slightly breathless and barely smiling. You can't remember the last time you danced in New York—maybe at some corporate happy hour where movement was performative rather than joyful. You try not to think about it for too long, lest the sadness finds you again. 

The morning passes quietly—a few early tourists browse without buying, a regular picks up a special order perfume, and you rearrange a display of sea glass earrings, picking a few out in between to try on. It's mindless work, but it's yours, and there's something satisfying about the way your hands remember how to tie the perfect bow on the pale green gift boxes.

The bell above the door chimes just before eleven, and you look up from the sales ledger you've been updating.

"We don't usually get deliveries until—" The words die in your throat when you see who's standing in the doorway.

Sevika fills the frame, a clipboard in one hand and a small package tucked under her arm. Today, her hair is loose around her shoulders, dark waves that catch the sunlight streaming through the windows. She's wearing a faded black t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showing more of those arms that seem designed for gripping steering wheels and lifting heavy things. You notice one of them is a prosthetic, and your gaze caresses it, tracking the graffiti-like doodles alongside it. It’s as if she’s allowed a child to paint all over it.

"Usually Thursdays, I know," she says, the corner of her mouth lifting. "Had to reroute today. Accident on the causeway." Her eyes move from your face to take in the rest of you, lingering for a moment on the strip of skin visible between your tank top and jeans. "Nina usually signs for these."

"Mom’s still in bed," you reply, moving toward the counter. "I'm covering mornings while I’m around."

She nods, crossing to you and laying the clipboard down. "Signature on the bottom line." As you sign, she glances around the shop. "Nice place. Never been inside before."

"Seriously? You deliver here every week."

"To the loading dock in back," she clarifies. "Never through the front door."

You hand back the clipboard and accept the package, your fingers brushing hers in the exchange. Her skin is warm and slightly rough.

“God, that’s awful. When I was younger, we used to give the drivers something sweet for the road, sometimes savory.”

“Yeah, well,” Sevika sighs. “People got creepier, meaner. Women got wiser. I’m fine without a treat if that means my customers feel safer.”

Your eyes soften minutely at that, and she notes the way you look down, your lashes brushing your cheek gently as if not to spook yourself.

"You settling back in okay?" she asks, and there's something in her tone that suggests genuine interest rather than small talk.

"It's... an adjustment," you admit. "But this helps." You gesture around the boutique. "It's quiet here."

"Too quiet for some," she says. "That why you left in the first place?"

The question is direct, almost intrusive, but she asks it without judgment. Just curiosity.

"Partly," you say, surprised at your own honesty. "I wanted to see what else was out there. Had dreams for a big life."

"And did you? See what else was out there?"

You think about the rat, the subway, the billboard with the too-white teeth. "I saw enough. Then life got…too big."

She nods as if this makes perfect sense to her. "Well." She taps her clipboard against her thigh. "Guess I'll be seeing you mornings now instead of your mother."

"Guess so."

She turns to leave but pauses at the door. "You know, there’s nothing wrong with trying something and it no longer being what you want."

"I wish someone told me that before now," you say quietly.

"I’m saying it now." Her eyes flick down to your outfit and back up. "Have a good day…"

“[Name],” you supply.

“[Name],” she repeats. “You seem like a sweet girl. Those big places? They tend to lure you in, then swallow you up. From the looks of it, you gave it all you got. And in some ways, you won the fight. You made it back home.”

Before you can respond, she's gone, the bell announcing her departure as clearly as it did her arrival. Through the window, you watch her walk back to her truck, the confident stride of someone who knows exactly who she is and where she's going. Maybe she could keep you on the path.

You look down at yourself—at the simple clothes that feel more like you than anything you've worn in years—and breathe in. Maybe she’s right. Maybe you didn’t fail. Maybe this was the true mission.

Or maybe, you think as you watch Sevika's truck pull away, there was no mission. Only the decisions you made. 

🪽♱

It continues the same way for a while.

You see her in the mornings, and when you do, you talk more. Spend less time inside of yourself. The days bleed into one another like watercolors on damp paper—pink sunrises giving way to white-hot afternoons, then purple dusks that settle over the Gulf like a bruise. Through it all, Sevika arrives with the steadiness of tides, her presence an anchor in your drifting days.You feel more alive, less like a child with their face toward the wall.

You start collecting moments like shards of glass: the way morning light catches in the joints of her prosthetic. How she smells like motor oil and salt air and something sweeter underneath. The low rumble of her laugh when you say something unexpectedly sharp. You hoard them, these fragments, turning them over in your mind at night while ceiling fans spin shadows across your childhood bedroom. Sometimes you start crying, not understanding why its so difficult to allow yourself to want this.

There's something almost holy in the ritual of her arrival—the bell above the door, the heavy tread of her boots, the weight of her gaze finding yours across the shop. You're twenty-something and already tired of a world that promised more than it gave. She's forty-something—maybe you should ask—and somehow both weathered and unwavering, like the cypress trees that survive hurricane after hurricane.

You learn she lives out past the old lighthouse in a boathouse painted midnight blue. You ask her if she’s lonely. She takes a long sip of her Diet Coke, looks at you for a second too long, then says no. That the prosthetic came after an accident offshore—something with machinery and poor timing and the sort of pain that changes a person forever. That she keeps a three-legged cat named Commander who sleeps on her chest at night. That she has nightmares about drowning despite knowing how to swim since before she could walk.

You learn about her makeshift family, about Jinx and the way she and Sevika sort of fell together after some job they’d done in the military had blown out. We were mercenaries, she lets slip and you raise a brow in surprise. Are you supposed to be telling me that? You ask. Nope, she says, popping the ‘p’. You laugh.

She talks about Isha, the little runaway they found rooting around in their shed. Isha, who they adopted. Isha who got sick. Isha’s who’s gone. 

“Jinx didn’t take it well,” Sevika says and you hold her hand. “She left, went somewhere. Called me to tell me she couldn’t come back. Told me—told me loved me. Took on some job and…”

You know what she’s about to say next, and you brace for it. You still flinch.

“Blew up. That’s what they said. I think she gave herself a way out.”

You tear up but manage to tell her about your dad. She strokes your back as you cry about the way he left, about how he’s well and alive and newly married. How the two of you are Facebook friends but never speak.

She learns about your failed escape, about the way New York chewed you up and left you hollow. About how sometimes you wake with your heart racing, convinced you're back in that cramped apartment with the subway rattling your windows. About the recurring dream of the buck with blood-soaked antlers, how he's started appearing with Sevika's face, her dark eyes watching you from between points of bone.

It's a Thursday in late July when something breaks open between you. The air hangs heavy with coming rain, pressing against windows like something desperate to get in. You've spent the day rearranging displays, moving in slow circles to music that feels like church—Ethel's voice coating the empty shop in honey and ash.

The day has stretched too long, customers sparse in the gathering storm. You're supposed to be closing, but instead you're dancing alone, barefoot on whitewashed floors, arms raised toward the ceiling fan as if in supplication. "American Teenager" fills the space, and you're spinning with your eyes closed when the bell chimes.

You stop mid-turn, eyes flying open to find Sevika standing in the doorway, rain-damp and beautiful in her severity. Water clings to her eyelashes and the sharp line of her jaw. Behind her, lightning splits the sky, illuminating her silhouette in electric blue.

"You're late," you say, breathless from dancing or from the sight of her, you can't tell which.

"Roads are flooding." Her eyes track over you—bare feet, tiny jean shorts, hair wild from spinning. Something in her gaze feels like hands on skin. "Should've been closed an hour ago."

"I got lost in it," you admit, gesturing vaguely to the record player, to yourself, to the empty shop that feels suddenly too full with her in it.

She crosses to you, boots leaving wet prints on the floor. Places a small package on the counter, but doesn't pull away. "You’re always lost in it, honey" she says, voice lower than usual.

"Yeah. I think it’s my way of staying alive." The words slip out, heavy with meaning you didn't intend but don't regret. Her eyebrows furrow, but she doesn’t respond. 

Thunder crashes outside, close enough to rattle the windows. The lights flicker once, twice, then go out completely. In the sudden darkness, all you can hear is the rain, the needle skipping on the record, and Sevika's breathing, closer than you expected.

"You can say," you whisper, the words a prayer in the dark. "The streets will be underwater."

Her silence stretches long enough that you think she'll refuse. Then her hand finds yours in the darkness, flesh against flesh, warm and rough with calluses. Foolishly, you think of asking her to go swimming.

"I'll stay," she says, and the words feel like a covenant.

You find candles in the storage room, arrange them in a circle on the floor. In their glow, Sevika looks carved from shadow and stone, all sharp angles and dark depth. You bring out the emergency bottle of bourbon your mother keeps behind the counter, two little shot glasses because there are no proper glasses. Your dad got them from when he’d served back in Vietnam.

"To all the light going out," you toast, and she echoes it, eyes never leaving yours as you both drink.

The bourbon burns sweet down your throat. Outside, the world drowns, but in here, you're closer to floating.

"Tell me," she says after a while, voice rough with liquor and something else, "what are you running from? Really?"

You stare into your cup, watching amber liquid catch candlelight. "I’m not sure. I guess mainly the feeling that I've already used up all my chances," you admit. "That I'm in my twenties and already failed at the only thing I tried to be."

"And what's that?"

"Someone who matters. Someone who left a mark." You look up at her, finding her closer than before, drawn into your orbit through some gravity you don't understand. "I thought New York would make me real. Instead, it made me into a ghost. Everyone could see right through me."

She reaches out, fingers brushing your cheek, tucking hair behind your ear with surprising gentleness. Her prosthetic catches the candlelight, metal warmed to gold.

"I think a lot of New York is faking it. You’re real, and it’s hard to recognize the disingenuous when you only ever are real," she says, and the words feel like truth.

You feel something fall away inside of you, and you put down your glass before leaning forward. When her lips find yours, it's like breaking the surface after too long underneath a lake. You gasp against her mouth, hands reaching to hold yourself in the solid reality of her—fingers digging into her shoulders, sliding into her rain-damp hair.

She kisses like she does everything else: with absolute certainty, with a focus that makes the world still. Her prosthetic arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer until you're nearly in her lap, the heat of her body burning through your thin tee.

"I've been watching you," she confesses against your throat, words pressed into skin like secrets. "Since that first day."

“Me too,” you murmur. “I watched you get in your car.”

It’s an intimate confession, and the candles gutter around you, wax pooling on the floor like offerings. Outside, the storm rages, but it's nothing compared to what’s been building inside of you. Your limbs are heavy with exhaustion, so you shift until you lie beside her on the floor, your head on her chest, listening to the steady drum of her heart.

"Are you ever going to stop driving?" you ask, voice small in the vastness of night.

Her fingers trace constellations on your bare shoulder, connecting beauty marks like stops on a roadmap. “I don’t know if I could.”

You close your eyes, breathing in the scent of her—rain and metal and skin. “Would you take me with you?”

She says nothing, and then,

“I’m not sure, baby. Will you ever be happy right where you are?”

🪽♱

Eventually, your mother asks you about her. Well, she more so asks you what’s wrong. 

You weren’t aware something was wrong with you, and tell her as much. She gives you a look as she sucks a cloud of apple from her pen.

"I'm not stupid," she says, exhaling sweet vapor that curls around her face like morning mist over the bayou. "You've been floating around this house like someone cut your anchor. One minute you're singing in the shower, the next you're staring at the wall like it's showing you visions."

“Maybe they are.” She lets out a dry laugh, and you was more time picking at a loose thread on the couch—the same floral pattern that's been there since you were fifteen, though faded now where the sun hits it through the blinds. "It's nothing."

"It's that Sevika lady." Not a question. Your mother has always seen through you like water, clear enough to count the stones at the bottom.

"I don't know what we are," you admit finally, the words tumbling out like shells from a broken net. "I don’t know what I’m doing. I always know what I’m doing, Mama.”

Your mother shifts and brings you to lay your head against her chest. You close your eyes and sink inside of her skin to the best of your ability.

“She's rooted here but always moving. I came back home because I couldn't survive out there, but I don't know if I can stay forever either."

Your mother sets her vape down, tucks a strand of hair behind your ear the way she used to when you had night terrors. "Baby, there's a difference between running away and moving forward. One's about fear, the other's about growth."

The ceiling fan clicks above you, marking seconds with metallic persistence. Outside, cicadas scream their summer chorus.

"When your daddy left," she continues, eyes fixed on something beyond the window, something maybe years away, "I thought I'd never breathe right again. But then I realized I'd been holding my breath our whole goddamn marriage."

Her accent slurs around the admission, and you think about Sevika's truck disappearing down lightly flooded roads, about her callused hands on your skin in candlelight. About her question: Will you ever be happy right where you are?—that's been haunting you like a malevolent spirit.

"I think I could be happy with her," you whisper, more to yourself than to your mother. "Maybe even without her. But I don't know if it's fair to either of us that I’m unsure."

Your phone buzzes on the coffee table. Sevika's name appears—no contact photo, just her name in plain text. Delivery tonight. Meet me at Silver after your shift?

Your mother watches your face change as you read it, catches the slight upturn of your lips you can't control. "Go," she says with a sigh that's half exasperation, half fondness. "Figure it out. But remember, staying isn't the same as giving up."

You stand, watching the smoke haze around her face as she blinks up at you. It forms a murky halo around her head, so you bend and kiss her cheek. You stay there for a minute, tilting your head so that your cheeks press together and share their warmth. This close, you swear you can hear her pulse. You hope she never dies. 

“I love you, Mama,” you whisper, like its some great secret. In a way it is.

She says nothing, only kisses your temple and cradles your head. You know what she’s thinking.

🪽♱

Silver Cove glows neon against the twilight sky when you pull in, your mother's Cadillac purring beneath you. The same teenager mans the register, barely looking up from her phone as the bell announces your arrival. You still tell her hello and call her by name to let her know that you see her. You grab a Diet Coke from the cooler and add a package of the cream-filled cookies you've seen Sevika buy before and a Mountain Dew.

When you step outside, her truck is there, massive and gleaming under the fluorescent lights. She leans against the hood, arms crossed, waiting. In the harsh overhead light, the scar on her face looks deeper, the lines around her eyes more pronounced. Sometimes you forget she carries a whole life before you in her bones—years of things you'll never touch or understand.

"Thought maybe you wouldn't come," she says as you approach, voice graveled with something that might be hope.

You hand her a Diet Coke, fingers brushing hers in the exchange. "Why would you think that?”

She smiles for some reason. You continue.

“I've been thinking about what you asked me. During the storm."

She takes a long sip, eyes never leaving yours over the rim of the bottle. "And?"

"I don't know if I'll ever be completely happy anywhere," you admit. "New York was crushing me, but sometimes I still wake up missing the noise. The possibility. I don’t think this could be my life forever. It couldn’t sustain me."

The night air wraps around you both, thick with moisture and the scent of gasoline. A moth batters itself against the nearest light, desperate for something that could destroy it.

"I'm not asking you to stay forever, honey," Sevika says finally. "Just asking if you can be present while you're here."

You step closer, until you can see the flex of muscle in her jaw, the pulse at her throat. "What if here doesn't have to mean one place? What if it just means wherever we both are?"

Something shifts in her expression—surprise, maybe, or recognition. She sets her drink on the hood of the truck and reaches for you, prosthetic arm cool against your skin as she draws you between her legs.

"I have routes that go to Mobile, to New Orleans. Sometimes farther," she says, her breath warm against your temple. "Doesn't mean I don't come back."

"I could go with you sometimes," you suggest, fingers tracing the tattoos that wind up her flesh arm. "See places without having to leave for good. Or you could find me halfway. Like a long-term scavenger hunt."

She laughs, the sound vibrating through your shared space. "Never thought about it like that. Being alone for so long…staying or going were the only options I saw."

“Me too,” you tell her.

Above you, stars punch through the darkening sky, more visible here than they ever were in New York. You think about constellations—how stars can be millions of miles apart but still form a picture when viewed from the right angle. You think about how scientists have heard black holes sing. Sometimes, your heart feels like a black hole. Sometimes, you sing.

"I'm scared," you confess, forehead pressed to her collarbone. "Of getting it wrong again."

Her hand—her real one—tangles in your hair, holds the back of your head like something sacred. "Getting what wrong?"

"Life. Love. Whatever this is. My daddy was a carpenter. I don’t do well without a plan, a blueprint."

Sevika tilts your face up with gentle pressure, studies you with eyes that have seen oceans rise and machinery fall. "There's no wrong way to build a life that lets you breathe, baby."

When she kisses you this time, it feels different from the thunder-charged intensity of the boutique floor. It feels like an option, a detour, rather than an escape. Like coming home to a place you're still building.

"So what now?" you ask against her lips, tasting hints of her soda and what feels like mint.

"Now…we could get in my truck and drive somewhere. It could be down the coast, could be to my place. Could be just around the block until we figure out the next step." Her prosthetic arm traces your spine, sending shivers despite the summer heat. "I'm not promising forever. Just promising to keep showing up as long as you want me to."

You think about what your mother said—about staying versus giving up. About the difference between running away and moving forward. About how sometimes growth means finding new ways to be rooted.

"I can work with that," you say, and it feels like the truest thing you've said since coming home. “But I don’t want to leave my mom just yet. We need each other right now.”

Sevika lifts you easily, sets you in the passenger seat of her truck with a gentleness that belies her strength. As she rounds the hood to the driver's side, you watch her move through the gauzy light of Silver Cove—solid and certain and somehow yours, at least for now.

The engine rumbles to life beneath you, vibrating up through your bones like a second pulse. Through the windshield, the Gulf Coast stretches dark and infinite, full of places you might go, places you might return to.

"Ready?" Sevika asks, hand on the gearshift, waiting for your answer before putting the truck in drive.

You reach across the console, lace your fingers through hers—flesh against flesh, blood against blood.

"Yeah," you say, and as the truck pulls away from Silver Cove, you feel something inside you flatline—not with the finality of death, but with the quiet understanding of choice. “Take me home, please.”

© hcneymooners.

⚚ wife tag: @s-4pphics

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

can you do rafe is your brother’s best friend?

a phone works two ways, you know

brothers best friend!rafe cameron x thornton!fem!reader

cw — fluff, angst, kinda sad if you squint but also kinda happy ending, alcohol

summary — rafe does his best to hide his feelings for his best friends younger sister until he cracks one day.

authors note — thank you so much for the request!! i’ll probably be posting a little celebration for 1.5k today where i’ll be writing as much as i can for as many requests as possible so please stay tuned for that :)

do not copy or post my work anywhere else.

“topper, did you take my speaker again?” you asked your older brother, voice soft but teetering on the verge of annoyance. he always did this. he snuck into your room when you were out and stole it, drained the battery, then forgets to give it back as if he can’t just buy his own. “i’m going out to the pool and i need it.”

the three boys turned their heads over their shoulders, kelce murmuring something under his breath, rafe just staring at you, and topper fake gagging from his spot between them. you were wearing a baby pink triangle bikini with a towel in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. “jeez, can you at least put some clothes on? my friends are here.”

you rolled your eyes at him and huffed. “its a million degrees outside and i’m literally going in the pool,” you said as if it were obvious. “can you just get my speaker please?”

“its dead,” he said dismissively before turning back to the tv to watch the football game with kelce. rafes gaze lingered for a couple extra seconds until he followed their actions.

a groan left your lips as you turned on your heel and headed for the back door. “you’re the worst,” you mumbled before shutting it behind you. thankfully your tanning chair was already set out from the day before, so you carefully laid your towel down and your water bottle underneath it then sat on the ledge with your feet splashing in the water.

you casually scrolled through your socials, checking up on what was going on as of late considering you hadn’t done much but sit in your room with sarah. after a few minutes of sitting alone, the door opened. the sound didn’t catch your attention and neither did the footsteps. you didn’t even notice anyone was outside with you until water splashed all over you.

a gasp left your lips and you watched the culprit return to surface in the water. you glared at rafe who was now smiling and rubbing his eyes. “dude. are you serious? i had my phone in my hand.”

he could only laugh. “you’re by the pool. why do you even need it?” he asked teasingly. it only made you more annoyed.

“i was doing stuff, asshole,” you muttered, pushing the wet strands of your hair behind your ears.

he quickly swam over to you and grabbed your phone from your hand then tossed it over to your chair. he parted your legs slightly and stood between them with his big hands resting on your upper thighs. “i think,” he began, his thumbs rubbing soft circles into your damp skin. “you should just pay attention to me instead.”

you chuckled under your breath and pushed at his shoulder gently. “you’re such a cornball,” you replied jokingly. “why are you even out here? shouldn’t you be watching the game with them?”

“kelce started bitchin’ about how it was too hot so topper got all pissy and suggested coming in here with you,” he explained, his blue piercing eyes staring up into yours. “i mean, c’mon. you know i’d never deny the opportunity to see you.”

you shook your head and looked away. “don’t do that, rafe,” you said firmly. you chewed your lip anxiously and pushed his hands off of you. small beads of sweat formed on your forehead from the heat and beaming sun, making you quickly get off the ledge and into the cool water.

he tilted his head slightly and turned to watch your movements as you created a small distance between the two of you. “do what?”

“that,” you stated. “don’t say things like that. the moment topper comes out here, you’ll act completely different and pretend none of this ever happened. you can’t just do that. its not fair and it makes me feel like crap.”

he moved forward so he was close enough to grab you with a frown on his lips, his hands gently holding your waist and bringing you to him so your front was pressed flush against his own. “you know i wouldn’t if i had the choice, sweetheart. we both know top would kill me if he ever found out.”

you pushed away from his again as he hands fell from your body and limp by his sides. “maybe you should’ve thought about that before you kissed me then.”

your first kiss. it was a week ago when he’d taken you out to get ice cream while your brother was out at a party that he had no interest in attending, especially if it meant he’d have you all to himself for a few hours. he’d driven you to some cute little ice cream parlor by the beach and kissed you under the stars like it was some movie and you two were the main characters. you thought things would be different after that. apparently you were really far off.

“c’mon baby, its not like that. you’re making it seem like that was a mistake,” he tried to reason. he didn’t like the fact that you were stepping further and further away from him. it made his heart clench uncomfortably. “i don’t regret that and i don’t want you to either. trust me, if it weren’t for topper, things would be different. we jus’ have to let him warm up to the idea.”

you scoffed under your breath and looked down at the sparkling water. “yeah? and how long is that gonna take? weeks? months? years even?” your voice was surprisingly calm and it was beginning to genuinely worry him. “you knew how special that was to me. and in all honesty, it does feel like a mistake, rafe. if you weren’t planning on having anything serious with me then you shouldn’t have even bothered. i’m not gonna let my brothers opinion dictate my entire life and you shouldn’t either.”

you could visibly see his posture drop slightly and his expression turn into and unreadable one. before he could try to convince you otherwise, the two boys emerged from the house all smiley and cheering loudly. “we found the good booze,” topper said excitedly.

they each took a bottle of beer, kelce handing one to rafe before giving you a glass cup full of a thick pink slush. “top made it for you since you’re too boujee for beer,” he joked while walking down the pool steps.

your brother joined the three of you in the water and took a quick sip of his drink. “i tried making that strawberry shit you liked in mexico,” he explained, waving his free hand around carelessly. “used vodka instead of rum though since you apparently don’t like that either.”

you laughed softly and thanked him as you listened in on the conversation kelce started up with rafe. except it was more of him just talking to anyone who cared to listen considering the others attention was elsewhere. the moment you glanced around the pool, your eyes met rafes. they hadn’t left you even for a second since you moved away from him.

— a few hours later

the house was now full of people. the scent of expensive cologne, alcohol, and a dull mix of sweat permeated the air and made your head spin slightly as you squeezed through the crowd and outside to the patio where more people were. lucky for you, the cooler full of what you needed was right beside the door.

you quickly reached down to grab a beer for sarah and a bottle of smirnoff pink lemonade. the moment you stood, a boy you recognized was standing at your side. “hey. you’re toppers sister, right?”

your brows furrowed as your eyes met his green ones. he was cute, you couldn’t lie but you were definitely caught off guard. “yeah,” you said wearily. “and you are?”

he chuckled softly and readjusted his stance to be a little more comfortable. “mike,” he stated. “we met once a little while ago at a party. i jus’ wanted to say you look really good tonight.”

a blush creeped across your cheeks and you smiled to yourself. “thank you,” you replied sheepishly. “you’re one of my brothers friends from school?”

he nodded and flashed a smile. “yeah, we met through our frat. we both happened to be rushing alone.”

you jokingly made a disgusted face and turned your head to look the other way. “whew. top always told me to stay away from frat boys. he says they’re dangerous.”

mike let out a hearty laugh. “not all of ‘em,” he said suggestively. “maybe come with me and find out?”

“i think shes gonna have to pass on that, dude. sorry,” you heard rafe chime in as he appeared next to you and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. “actually, i just ran into your other girl inside. think she was lookin’ for you..”

you rolled your eyes and pushed yourself away from him. he didn’t get to dismiss you at one point then want you at another. “you’re ridiculous, rafe,” you said before squeezing past mike and pushing through the crowd to get up the stairs and to your room.

when you got inside, sarah was laying on her back in your bed scrolling through her phone. “finally. thought you got lost and i was gonna have to come down there and rescue you,” she joked playfully.

you handed her the beer and placed your own on the counter. “you should’ve. at least i wouldn’t have had to endure whatever that was down there,” you mumbled. “i’ll be right back. i need to use the bathroom really quick then we can get back to watching.”

as you left your room and shut the door behind you, you caught a glimpse of rafe coming up the stairs. you laughed angrily and headed towards the open door down the hall. “wait,” you heard him call out. you attempted to close the door, only for him to catch it before it clasped shut. “can you just talk to me?”

“can you stop being such a douche?” you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest. “what the hell was that out there? i was talking to someone. you don’t just get to pick and choose when you want to be with me. and you definitely have no right to just come in and get all protective over me.”

he sighed softly and stepped inside the bathroom with you, closing the door behind him. “with mike? really? he sleeps with everyone and jus’ moves on to another girl an hour later. trust me, you don’t want that.”

you could feel the rage bubbling deep in your stomach. he had some nerve. “what if i do? what makes you think you can tell me what i want and don’t want?”

“because i know you and i know you aren’t one to just sleep with someone random. what happened to that whole conversation about needing a connection with someone?” he questioned.

“were you also thinking about this when you kissed me?” you snapped back. “you do all these things to make me think you actually like me and then you just make me feel like an idiot the moment we’re in a crowd. you barely even talk to me when toppers around, rafe. i’m not gonna keep getting my feelings hurt over nothing.”

he shook his head and uncrossed you arms, taking your hands in his bigger ones. “i don’t wanna hurt your feelings, sweetheart. you know i wanna be with you. i just— i can’t do that to topper. he’s my best friend and—“

“then we can save the hassle and stop talking about this,” you interrupted. “you don’t get to get my hopes up anymore. i’m not doing it. its either you want to be with me or you don’t. if you really want to be with me, then you’d be willing to make sacrifices. do you really think i expect my brother to be completely okay with it? of course not. but i’m willing to work through that. if you’re not then theres no point in continuing this and you can leave.”

a frown spread across his lips and he looked down at his hands that were still holding yours, his thumb rubbing circles into the backside of your hand. “i wanna be with you, i really do. and i don’t wanna lose you over this,” he said softy. “can we just take things slow? i don’t care what topper thinks, i jus’ don’t want him to try to stop us from seeing each other.

you stared at him with a slight hesitation in your gaze. “how do i know you’re being serious? how do i know you’re not just gonna flake out on me again?”

he squeezed your hands a little tighter and took a step closer so there was only a couple inches between the two of you. “cause its always been you, sweetheart. you’re the only person i’ve ever felt this way about and i really, really don’t wanna lose you,” he explained. “i like you a lot. it scares the shit outta me but i’d rather do this with you than anyone else.”

you felt heat creep up your neck and onto your cheeks. “please don’t make me regret this, rafe.”

he smiled before moving one hand to cradle your jaw and the other to your waist. he pulled you close and placed a soft kiss to your lips, tilting his head slightly to deepen it as it went on. your arms wrapped around his neck and you arched your body just enough to press against him.

a muffled whimper left your lips when he squeezed gently at your hip and slipped his tongue into your mouth. you could feel your heart pound in your chest. you’d never gone this far. fortunately he was taking it slow though and allowing you time to mimic his movements.

too caught up in the moment, you didn’t even hear the door open. “what the fuck?”

[cybrasigilism]

Hey, I was wondering if you could do a dae ho x reader x thanos, where they both are trying to do outlandish stuff to get the readers attention on them and not the other. they're both so goofy at times

This Means War (Kang Dae-ho/Thanos X F! Reader)

warning: no smut! | not proofread | lowercase intended | OOC (bc daeho and thanos don’t really interact in the series) | love triangle(?) | this is my interpretation of these characters, please be respectful even if my opinions on the characters differ from your own

characters: kang dae-ho (player 388), thanos/choi su-bong (player 230)

A/N: this may be the most entertaining fic i’ve written yet! thank you so much for the brilliant request, i’ve tried my best to make it an enjoyable read for you all! this is a mixed POV story so apologies for the confusion as it reads, i wanted to try something different but if this was too much of a confusing read i likely won’t do this style of fic very often. AND ik its short, i’m so sorry, but this is only the beginning of this story (if you guys like it)

–––-𖤓⋆˖⁺‧₊𖤐₊‧⁺˖⋆☾-–––

dae-ho was sure he’d never seen someone quite so captivating in all his life. the moment you grabbed his attention from across the room at the very beginning of the games, he knew he had to get to know you. whether it was the way your face managed to light up the dark atmosphere of the common area, or the way you carried yourself in a calm, collected, self assured manner amongst all the uncertainty; he fell head over heels effective immediately.

unfortunately for dae-ho, he wasn’t the only one who seemed to have noticed you. thanos had clocked you the minute people started filing out from their bunks, and he felt things right then that he hadn’t felt for anyone before. he was totally drawn to you, it was almost as if he knew he had to stake his claim on you sooner rather than later, lest someone make their move first. he would be damned if he lost his chance with the most gorgeous girl he’d ever laid his eyes on to some random.

as for you, you were spending more of your time focusing on your current situation rather than scouring the location for potential suitors. you didn’t notice any familiar faces, to be honest you were kind of relieved at that. you would have been embarrassed to see a colleague or a friend there, knowing full well the predicament that you must have been in to even consider joining these sketchy games. you maintained a level head up to the point where you were all led to this photo center like cattle, taking photos for whatever reason before entering the first game. just as you were joining a line to take your photo, you heard someone call out your number out of nowhere.

“sẽnorita!” the same voice called out once again this time followed quickly by a whistle, causing you to turn your head and see this purple-haired guy with a crowd of people surrounding him. “i’ve got room for one more here, c’mon!” he beckoned for you to join the cramped circle. you felt your face contort into a concerned expression before simply turning away and joining a line far away from whatever that was. you could still feel that guy look at you for a quick moment, but when you glanced in his direction, he was long gone.

—

this first game, Red Light Green Light, was not anything like what you or anybody else were expecting. when the rules stated that players who moved would be eliminated, you didn’t conclude that that meant they would be assassinated. poker face be damned, you could feel your body vibrate every time that creepy doll turned her head back round to face the players, eyes scanning for even the slightest bit of movement. the next time you were all allowed to move forward, this tall, dark haired guy moved in front of you almost deliberately. when you all froze again you noticed he had his hand extended out to you behind his back, with his mouth covered you could hear him whisper “just stay close to me, okay?” you waited before that damned dolls head was turned around again before you grabbed his hand and the two of you took off.

once you both crossed the finish line, you looked up at your mystery saviour. “thank you for doing that..” you said, voice noticeably shaken from all the death you witnessed, and were still witnessing. he looked down at you and smiled. “of course, anything for you.” that last part warmed your heart, it was nice to know you had already found someone you could rely on in these trying new circumstances of yours. you let your gaze shift off subconsciously and noticed that purple headed guy from earlier, staring daggers at the man who had just essentially saved your life.

—

after the surviving players returned to the common area, cast their vote, and split off back to their beds, thanos made a b-line for dae-ho, looming over his bed to which dae-ho quickly took notice.

“that was some lame shit you pulled.” dae-ho had never been so perplexed at another person in his life. “what’re you talking about?” he asked, earning a laugh from the quirky stranger. thanos kneeled down, making eye contact with dae-ho now. “you know damn well, 388,” he started, spitting out dae-ho’s number as though it were a dirty word. “swooping in, acting like the hero for that chick.” dae-ho looked unamused, trying to be unassuming about the whole ordeal. “i don’t know what you think this is, i was just trying to keep somebody alive-“

“i didn’t ask what you were trying to do, did i?” thanos interrupted, getting closer to dae-ho now. “just know this. she’s mine. so i wouldn’t waste my time if i were you.” dae-ho held back a laugh, before looking his newfound opponent up and down. “that’s funny, the feeling didn’t seem mutual when she gave you the cold shoulder during photos.” thanos scoffed, turning away in an attempt to keep his cool. “whatever man, she’s just playing hard to get.” his voice trailed off at the end, when he clocked you sitting in your own bunk, knees to your chest.

“yeah, i don’t think that’s true.” dae-ho stated, getting up out of his bed, and patting thanos on the back. “i get that you’re probably used to having girls fall over themselves for you, so it’s definitely shocking when someone like that doesn’t give you a second look.” dae-ho’s slight smugness about the whole ordeal left thanos speechless, watching with seething rage as dae-ho made his was over to where you were sat. he knew that the games weren’t the only thing he wanted to win over now. he knew he was certainly not going to let dae-ho captivate your heart so easily, and he knew that he was definitely not going down without a fight.

dae-ho knew something too: he now knew he had to keep you safe from thanos because something inside told him that if that maniac was capable of inadvertently killing random people in order to advance in the first game, there was no telling the lengths he would go to gain your attention. he made a vow to himself to never let you out of his sight while you were in your current situation. over his dead body would he let someone like thanos prevail.

the two of them both made a nemesis that day, each one swearing that they could get to you before the other did. they now knew it was about more than just the games.

they now knew that this meant war.

–––-𖤓⋆˖⁺‧₊𖤐₊‧⁺˖⋆☾-–––

apologies again for the length, or lack there of, of the fic! if anything i want to make this multiple parts but i understand if the format of this particular fanfiction is too confusing, and again i am sorry for that! just wanted to experiment :)

as always, advice and constructive criticism on how i can improve my writing are appreciated and requested!

have a splendid day/night lovelies 😙

tags: @gongyoosgf @agornotsworld @kvstjwonnie @marymustdie @pink-apples001 @fiicalapsiholoaga @wonestro @luvlyfandoms @putrescentpoet

[insidekatmind]

Guard~ Hwang Jun-ho

Wearning: +18,smut

Request: yes!

You were taken to a mysterious place, where the games of your childhood came back to haunt you in a deadly way. The rules were simple: win or die. If you broke a rule, you weren't just eliminated. You were killed.

Shot to death for a simple childish game.

But the prize was tempting: 6 billion won. An amount that drove 456 desperate people, including you, to risk everything.

This place is called The Squid Games.

Around you, men with black masks that hide their faces. The masks have different symbols: the squares are the Managers, those who command; the triangles are the Soldiers, armed with guns always ready; and the circles are the simple workers, who never speak unless ordered to do so.

At first, you didn't know who they really were, but there was a man among them, watching you. Silent, attentive.

His name is Jun-ho.

---

Jun-ho was not like the others. Behind the Manager mask, he hid a secret: he was looking for his brother, In-ho, the winner of the 28th edition of the games, who disappeared without a trace. To find answers, Jun-ho had infiltrated the workers, assuming the identity of one of them.

And then he met you.

--

The second game was to cut out a perfect shape from a piece of caramelized sugar. If you broke the shape, you were eliminated on the spot.

Sitting on the ground, you clutched your small umbrella in your shaking hands. You knew it was the most difficult shape to cut out. The screams of those who failed filled the air, followed by the dry sound of gunshots.

You concentrate, breathing hard, sweat dripping down your forehead. Finally, with one last precise movement, the umbrella shape comes off without breaking.

You smile, relieved. You get up and approach a Manager to show off your work. He slowly turns to you. Under the square mask, Jun-ho’s eyes soften for a moment, almost imperceptibly.

“Done,” you say softly, a hint of pride in your voice.

He nods. “Good job.”

From that moment, something changes

---

After the brutal test of Tug of War, you are in the bathroom, in front of the mirror, cleaning a cut on your face. During the game, another participant accidentally scratched you with his nail as you struggled not to fall.

You are rubbing the wound with a piece of cloth, when the bathroom door slowly opens.

A man in a square mask enters, looking around before closing the door behind him. Your heart pounds in your chest.

“Rough game, hm?” he says softly, his voice recognizable despite the hushed tone.

you sigh as you dry yourself "no, do you think so?" you say sarcastically

"Hm, I have a feeling you'd be sarcastic," he says under his mask, leaning against the bathroom wall.

"it's the only thing I have left," you mutter tiredly. Under his mask, Junho's eyes softened as he listened to your words. Seeing you so clearly struggling and exhausted from the games was a hard sight to behold. He was silent for a moment before answering softly, "Don't say that."

You turn to look at him. "But it's the truth. In these games, you risk your life, it's easy to talk for you."

"I risk my life too, you know, doll." He retorts, and the nickname slips off his tongue before he can even register what he said. He paused for a second, before answering softly, "Believe me, it's not easy at all."

you look at him in disbelief, not believing him. "and let's hear what you're risking? you're a guard"

He laughs at your response and shakes his head slightly under his mask. He pushes himself away from the wall, taking a step towards you as he answers in a low voice,

"And if you think that being a guard is just fun and games, you're wrong. Do you have any idea what we've been ordered to do?"

you look at him carefully "kill people? well I notice that you do it with great pleasure" you blurt

He lets out a soft sigh under his mask, almost rolling his eyes at your words. He continues to walk towards you, until he's right in front of you, with his back to the wall. As he looks down at you, his voice drops: "You don't know how things really are. Do you think it's a choice? No, it's an order. We were told to do it. Not that you'd understand that, right?"

"He is only one, there are many more of you, the story of not having a choice doesn't hold up" you huff

He let out a soft sigh as you continued to argue with him. Then he leaned even closer, his body practically against yours as he looked down at you. The black mask on his face hid the slight frown on his lips. "Do you think the guards don't have to obey? Do you think we have the choice to stop or not follow orders? Do you think we have the choice to say no?" He asks firmly, a hint of irritation in his voice.

"I repeat, he is only one and there are many more of you" you move closer to him leaving no space. He lets out a small, bitter laugh under his mask as you enter his space.

He couldn't deny the fact that you were stubborn, and annoying. He stood there for a moment, still looking down at you as he held his body against yours. Then he answered in a low voice, "Are you always this stubborn?"

"I'm usually quiet but this place drives me crazy" you mutter looking at him. He lets out another soft sigh, shaking his head slightly under his mask.

After a moment, he lifts a hand to your head and gently moves a lock of hair from your face. He pauses, before saying in a more calm tone than before: "Yeah, I don't blame you. This place does the same to me too".

You lean into his touch feeling a sweet caress after a long time. He feels you leaning into his touch, that you're almost melting completely. His fingers continued to gently brush your hair, before moving to gently cup your face. He let out a silent sigh as his thumb carefully brushed your cheek.

You sigh softly and lean into him more. "It feels so good to be caressed after so long".

He can’t help but frown under his mask when he feels you lean into him. He slowly moves his other hand to grasp your waist, as he carefully guides you forward to rest against his chest.

He wraps his arms around you gently, holding your body against his, and his hands draw gentle circles on your back. His eyes wander once more to the cut on your face as he says softly, “Doll, why didn’t you clean yourself up properly? You even have a cut on your face.”

You sigh softly and hug him, “Who cares, I’ll have more,” you whisper tiredly. He feels you gently wrap your arms around him, causing his to tighten around you. He sighs softly under his mask when you mention the possibility of him having more injuries. “I don’t want you to get any more. Especially while you’re here in the arena.” He responds by gently holding the back of your head against his shoulder.

You hum in response and let yourself go to the feel of his arms around your body. He stays silent as he listens to you hum softly, letting his mind focus on the feel of you against him.

He held you tightly to his body, not wanting to let go so soon.

The feeling of having you in his arms was something he didn’t want to give up so quickly. He liked the way you leaned into him, the way you let him hold you, even though we were in the bathroom.

His arms still held you against his chest, his chin resting on your head. He could faintly smell your shampoo, a pleasant smell that made him tighten his arms around you slightly.

He was silent for a moment, before saying softly, “You know I’m going to be in trouble if anyone catches us like this.”

You nodded weakly into his arm again. “Do you want me to let go?” You whispered, hoping he’d say no.

Feeling your body nod against his, he let out a soft sigh as he rolled his eyes under his mask. He pulled you a little closer, not letting go even a little. “If I told you I wanted you to move, would you?” he murmurs softly as he rubs your back.

"well i would struggle but yes" you whisper again into his arms. When he hears you answer, he lets out a soft hum, clearly not satisfied with your answer. He pushes you back, until you are pinned against the wall, your body still in his arms. He freezes you in place as he bends down to your height, his mask right next to your ear. "Doll, are you sure you really want to leave? You look reluctant." He murmurs softly.

"no i don't" you whisper as you hold him close. He lets out a soft smirk when he hears your words, a victorious smile beneath his mask. "That's what i thought. You're not really willing to leave, huh?" He runs his hands up your sides, his fingers delicately tracing your curves. He had you pinned to the wall, not letting you move even a little.

The feel of your body against his, the way you leaned into him made his face heat up. He leaned down, lowering his mask slightly to your neck and feeling his warm breath on your skin. He murmured softly, "Tell me, doll. Do you know how hard it is for me to stay calm when I'm with you?"

you look at him softly, "can you take off your mask?" The request takes him a little by surprise, but he quickly regains his composure. He looks at you from under the mask, considering your words. After a moment, he slowly raises his hands and removes the mask that covers his face. He places the mask on one of the nearby sinks, before looking back at you, his dark eyes meeting yours. His hair was falling delicately over his forehead, giving him a slightly disheveled look.

You smile softly and caress his cheek. "You're so beautiful," you whisper softly. When he feels your hand gently caress his cheek, his face reddens from the unexpected compliment. He looks at you and sees a soft smile on your lips, and it makes his heart beat faster. He responds softly, his voice a little softer than before, "Do you really think so?"

You smile softly and nod. He swallows slightly, his face still red as you nod in agreement. sign of confirmation. "Doll, you shouldn't say things so suddenly. You'll make me act even more out of place than I already have." He murmurs softly as he moves his head to lean into your touch.

"do it," you whisper. When he hears such direct words from you, he lets out a sigh of relief.

He then grabs your wrists, pinning you against the wall again; this time both wrists are in his grip. “You’re only making it worse for yourself, doll. You really shouldn’t say things like that.” He says in a low, slightly warning tone.

He leaned in closer, his body pressed against yours, your wrists still in his grip. He looked at you intently, his expression a little serious, but with a slight hint of something else. “Let me ask you this, doll. Do you want me to go further?”

You look at him and nod quickly. He’s slightly surprised when you nod quickly in response. He smirks slightly as he looks up at you and studies your face carefully. “You’re so quick to say that, doll. I wonder if you’ll regret it later.”

He leans in even further, pinning your wrists against the wall above your head. Then he moves closer to your neck, his breath warm on your skin as he murmurs softly. “But I won’t stop.”

His lips soon move to your neck, gently planting kisses on your sensitive skin. He moved slower, savoring the feeling of having you in his arms. He continues to hold your wrists still, preventing you from moving, while his other hand slowly slides down your body. You moan and cling to him.

When he hears your moan, he makes a soft hum against your neck. He slowly feels you grab him, as if you want to pull him closer, as if you want his body against yours. He gently bites your skin, trailing kisses along your neck with his lips, until he reaches your ear. He whispers in a low, warm tone, "You're mine, doll. Just remember that." You nod in response.

He lets out another soft hum as he feels your head nod against his body. He feels you pressing yourself more and more against him, as if you were submitting completely to his touch. He slowly lets his hands wander over your body, his touch firm against your curves. He murmurs in a low, possessive tone against your ear, “Be a good doll and hold still for me, okay?” You nod again in response.

When he says these words, he feels your body tremble slightly, as he slowly caresses your hips with his hands. His touch on your skin is gentle yet firm, as if he’s making sure to memorize every inch of you. He begins to slide his hands gently down your body, his fingers tracing your curves until they reach your face. He looks down at you, meeting your eyes. “You look so beautiful like this, doll.”

He raises his hand and gently runs his fingers through your hair, his touch soft and tender on your skin. His dark eyes scan your features, carefully studying every detail of your face: from your lips to your cheeks, to the slight cut on your face. He looks down at you for a few seconds before murmuring softly, "You look so fragile like this. You're mine, and tonight I'll remind you of that." Hearing those words, you moan in response.

He lets out a small smirk in response to the sound of your moan. His hands slowly slide to your hips, gripping you gently as he pulls you closer to his body. He murmurs in a low, firm tone, "You make it harder for me to hold back, doll."

He leans back slightly and his eyes travel back up your body, pinned to the wall. He looks down at you, his expression a little serious, but revealing something else. “You know, honey, I’m going to make sure you’re completely mine before the night is out.” You whimper in response.

He slowly leans forward again, pinning you to his body. He looks at you intently, his eyes locking with yours. Then he slowly murmurs against your ear, his voice low and seductive, "You know I won't be gentle, doll. I'm going to have you all to myself tonight." You moan softly, getting excited at his words,

He feels your moan against his body and it makes his body heat up. He slowly lowers his hands, grabbing your thighs and lifting you up quickly, your legs wrapping around his waist. He pins you more firmly against the wall, making sure you're locked in place.

He feels your body shaking against his, your arms wrapping around his neck as you hold on tight. He watches you as you're against the wall, his eyes locked on your face. He studies your expression for a few seconds before letting out a small smirk. "Doll, you really don't know how hard you make it for me to control myself."

You look at him longingly and kiss him. He’s a little surprised when you suddenly kiss him, not expecting such a bold move from you. He kisses you quickly, his lips moving against yours in a firm but somehow gentle way. He slowly moves his hands up, grabbing your wrists as he pins your body to the wall again, now holding both of your wrists in his grip.

His lips move against yours, his kiss slowly becoming more intense as he pins your body to his. He continues to hold your wrists with one hand, not letting you escape his touch. After a moment he pulls away and looks at you, your face red and slightly breathless from the kiss. “Baby, you make it hard to hold back.” He says softly, his eyes roaming over your face.

“I need you,” you murmur longingly. He lets out a soft sigh when he hears those words come out of your mouth. He looks at you intently, his eyes meeting yours. He sees the desire on your face, and he’s both surprised and excited by it. Then he responds softly, his voice almost whispering, “Do you want me that bad, doll?”

“Yes please,” you murmur in response. He lets out a soft hum as he looks up at you and notices the pleading look on your face. His expression softens slightly, a hint of possession in his eyes. “Beg all you want, doll. I won’t be gentle. Tonight I’m going to have you all to myself.” You groan in anticipation.

He quickly turns around and walks with you in his arms, still holding you tightly in his grip. Then he places you on the nearest bed, positioning you right in the middle. Then he looks down at you, his eyes roaming over your body. He grabs your thighs and pulls you towards him, moving you over the sink

He places himself between your legs, his body hovering over yours. He looks down at you, a small smirk on his lips. Then he slowly runs his hand up your leg, his touch almost reverent. “You look so beautiful like this, doll. All mine, just for me.” You moan in response.

He quickly begins to undo your shirt, his fingers working deftly, fast and precise. Your shirt soon opens, exposing your skin to his gaze. Then he looks down at you, his gaze slowly wandering over your body. His expression is a little hungry as he looks at you, his eyes slowly darkening. “Doll, you look so beautiful. You have no idea how hard it is for me to control myself with you like this.”

He moves his hands down, gently touching your skin as his fingers begin to explore every inch of your body. It’s not gentle; his touch is firm and somewhat possessive. He slowly moves closer to you, his body pressing against yours as he leans down. His lips are right next to your ear and he murmurs softly, “You feel so good under my touch, doll. I want you so bad right now.”

You whimper at his touch wanting more and you cling to him. Jun-ho removes his clothes and rubs his hardness against your entrance and then enters you making you moan loudly. He starts to move against you harder and harder, he was true to his word. He wasn’t gentle at all. His hips move at a slow but steady pace, each thrust is hard and deep.

With each thrust you moan loudly as you cling to him. He watches you intently, his eyes locked on your face as he notices the look of pleasure on your face. “You feel so good, doll. It’s like you were made for me this beautiful pussy” he moans thrusting even harder.

He can feel you trembling under his touch, your body responding in ways that only make him wilder. He moves closer to you, his body flush against yours as he continues to move against you. His mouth moves down to your neck, where he gently sucks your skin, leaving little marks in his wake. “You’re mine, baby. I’m the only one who can see you like this. You’re mine and mine alone.”

He picks you up and fucks you in his arms, hitting you deeper and deeper. "this pussy is so tight" he grunts, fucking you harder and you scream.

"I'm close" you murmur, moaning and Jun-ho smiles and pushes his hips even more brutally. "cum for me doll" he murmurs and you come hearing his words.

Jun-ho smiles and pushes himself even more brutally and then cums inside you. You screamed from the mixture of pain and pleasure. You hid your face in the crook of his neck and he smiles. "You're mine, there's no escape now" he whispers in your ear.

[beifong-brainrot]

One thing I love about tlok more as I age, is that it actively veers away from pitting women against each other.

While atla wasn't awful on this front, Toph and Katara's arguments often took on the flavour of Toph talking down to Katara for her percieved feminine qualities. Pairing this with Toph's insults towards male characters, specifically Aang, often having an emascualting "Don't be such a girl" type of vibe, it paints a good picture of Toph's strained relationship with femininity, and other girls, most likely due to her past, both in her family and in the ring. Katara and Toph's tale in Ba Sing Se was a nice step away from that rule, but the Runaway sorta circled back towards this argument. As much as Toph seems to secretly enjoy "feminine expression" she will still talk down to it in public.

But we can talk about Toph's internalised misogyny later. We see the phenomenon of women tearing each other down elsewhere in atla too, especially in the relations of the Fire Nation girls, like in how Mai and Azula lash out at Ty Lee in the Beach.

And I'm not saying it's bad that atla portrayed these interactions, they're a part of life and many of us are trained to talk down to other fem folks.

But it is so refreshing to see tlok subvert that trope in B1. For all the complaining about the love triangle, I really love the arc it gives Korra, who has probably barely interacted with girls her age.

When she first meets Asami, she's a little intimidated, but falls a little into that 'not like other girls' streak.

With Korra falling into more of a 'tomboy' category, similarly to Toph, it wouldn't be very unexpected for her to be portrayed with a more tumultuous relationship to femininity and people we percive as fitting into it better. This is something a lot of girl, women and fem folks go through irl.

Korra: [To Asami as she swims over to her; somewhat dismayed.] So, what do you have planned for us today? Let me guess, shopping, makeovers ...

We see that Korra has a set idea of what Asami is like based on her presentation and mannerisms, and doesn't think she can find a common language with her. But this expectation is quickly subverted when Korra and Asami race together and we see that they do get along very well.

And I like that Korra not only apologises for writing Asami off, but also attempts to partake in something feminine, makeup, showing that she's become more open to finding a 'common language' with girliness, something she previously saw as alien.

Korra: I gotta admit, I had you pegged wrong. I thought you were kind of ... prissy. [Raises hand; quickly.] Eh-No offense!

And throughout the show, although there is plenty of drama, Asami and Korra stay on relatively good terms, which is a relief. A lot of shows tend to stoke drama between its female leads, but Korra and Asami stay friendly, and more, throughout the show.

Korra: [Chuckles in relief.] Well, whatever happened with Mako, I'm glad it hasn't come between us. I've never had a girlfriend to hang out with and talk to before, except for Naga. This is nice.

And it's not just Korra and Asami's relationship that fosters an air of women supporting each other. Tlok shows us many women of different backgrounds helping each other become stronger, encouraging them to realise their potential, comforting each other in dark times and so forth. I also think it's nice to see so many older women who support and encourage younger women, as atla did not deliver on that front.

And I know it feels like such a low bar, but I think it's so important to highlight in shows, especially shows starring women and female characters.

[captainpriceslilwife]

what hybrids i think the boys (tf141 + nikolai) would have because im a freak and cant stop thinking about it and YES they're boinking the hybrids! :))) <3 simon's is angsty though, so...yeah

Also the pics included are just to get a visual of the animal that the hybrid is based off of...they aren't in a relationship with like...actual animals. if i could draw i would've drawn the hybrid myself but unfortunately you'd just get a stick figure with two triangles coming out of it with a note on the side like ":) -> these are wings! <3" so here we are. use your imagination!

(edit: removed the 'keep reading' line :) you WILL read it and look at the pretty pictures i picked out...whether you want to or not)

john: ok, ok, ok....hear me out LISTEN !!!! cockatiel!hybrid. i know we all love cute fluffy hybrids but LISTEN TO ME!!! I used to have one growing up, and i can see it so perfectly oooh my god. They typically bond really well to one person and are snippy with everyone else, and i think john would absolutely love that. It makes him feel special - like he's needed. And he's always loved feeling needed, which is why he goes so above and beyond for his team. And now he has something to scratch that itch for him while he's at home.

Plus, he loves the way she sings and chirps for him - sometimes he'll even hum something around her just to hear her mimic him for the next couple of days. He soaks it up as much as he can when he's at home because he knows that when he's deployed to some hellish warzone halfway across the world, there won't be any birds singing. So even when his little hybrid keeps chirping the same tune over and over again, her feathers fluffing up as she begins to get on her own nerves - he can't bring himself to tell her to stop. And, sometimes, if his hybrid is depressed because he's leaving and he can't get her to cheer up (poor thing has separation anxiety), he'll sing a little bit with her. He never liked the sound of his own voice, but when he sees the way his birdie's face lights up and the way her head sways along with his tune, he melts right there on the spot. It'll always be the first thing he misses when he has to go away. And, yes, sometimes he finds himself singing quietly to himself when he's thinking about his little bird on his mission. Only Simon has ever heard it, and he doesn't breathe a word about it to anyone else - mainly because it reminded him of his mum when he was younger.

John's favorite thing, though, is helping her groom every night. He loves to run his fingers through her feathers, especially the tuft of long feathers that are always propped up on top of her head. He loves to watch his baby lean into his touch as he tries to smooth out her 'pretty crown', as he calls it. And when his fingers catch on a loose, stubborn feather that she can't get on her own? He's gently pulling it out while his other hand coaxes her muscles to relax as he coos softly at her. I know, I know it hurts...always such a good birdie for me though, huh? Pretty little thing...there we go. That feels better, doesn't it, love? And she always thanks him by bopping her forehead gently against his, and he can never stop himself from catching the movement with his lips to press a gentle kiss just beneath her crown.

And if his hands slip under her wings to rub little circles there? And her wings get all ruffled as she slowly gets worked up and turned on? Well, he's not just going to let his poor birdie suffer, now will he?

And it doesn't matter if he's fucking her in missionary or if he's got her mouth wrapped around his cock - his thumbs will always find their way to those pretty orange spots on her cheeks :) stroking them lovingly like he's not defiling his precious little bird. Always rewards her with some fancy birdseed at the end of it, though - let's her eat it right out of his hand.

kyle: another hear me out but....hold on! just picture it! hedgehog. DO NOT SCROLL AWAY FROM ME!!

Think about it. He's been wanting to get a hybrid for a while now, but he just can't seem to figure out what he wants. Everything just seems too...standard. Cats, dogs, birds? It's not really doing it for him. Plus he gets too sad when he goes to the hybrid facilities just to look, so he eventually stops going so he doesn't feel guilty.

But one day he's in the rec room trying to relax - key word: trying. The two recruits next to him just won't seem to shut up about their own hybrids they've got waiting for them at home. Kyle tries to zone them out as much as he can, but his ears perk up when he actually starts to listen to what they're saying.

I don't know, mate. I got one of those hedgehog hybrids - thought it'd be cool - but she's so fucking weird, man. She's always curling up in a ball or giving me this weird smile...it'd be fine if she'd let me fuck her, but she always runs away when I just try to touch her. Kyle is locked in on their conversation, and he doesn't even notice how hard he's clenching his fists until he hears the other recruit respond. Fucking get rid of her, mate. Don't she know that's what hybrids are for? Could throw her out on the street on those grounds.

So, of course our sweet Kyle taught both of those recruits a lesson in what hybrids are for :) nevermind the fact that Price had to sign a bunch of paperwork in order to keep him on the team. Turns out that beating two recruits with the help of Simon is frowned upon in the military. That's not important.

What's important is the fact that now he's got a little hedgehog hybrid all to himself. Tiny thing, too. She's the tiniest out of all of the hybrids he's seen with his teammates. And, ever the prince charming, he makes sure to give her a life that scumbag could never even dream of.

She becomes his favorite thing in the world. Spoils her absolutely rotten. All those weird quirks the recruits were complaining about? He swears he's never seen something so precious or perfect in his life. He'd do anything to put that 'weird' smile on her face - even went so far as to build her an enclosure in her own room, just so she can play around at night since she's nocturnal and he needs to sleep. But he absolutely loves when he's lying in bed and he hears her giggling to herself in the other room, only for her to come crawling into bed with him just before the sun comes up so she can cuddle with him before he leaves for work.

Yeah, turns out she does like to be touched - likes to be fucked, too - as long as she doesn't have some prick breathing down her neck to tell her how weird she is. It takes all of Kyle's willpower to not take a video of him pounding her sweet cunt just to send it to that idiot, but in the end he decides his sweet girl doesn't need to be shown off like that. Not when she curls up next to him and cuddles into his chest when they're done - chittering softly and smiling at him so sweetly that he swears he'll get a toothache. And when she murmurs her thanks for him? Telling him how happy she is that she's finally found someone who actually likes her? Yeah, he's keeping his sweet little pet all to himself.

johnny: little bunny!hybrid...we ALL know why. he's a freak and he needs something to match his stamina. but i do think he picks one of the bunny!hybrids who is more quiet (because poor johnny has always been drawn to the cold, stand-offish type ghost) and he has to coax her out of their shell before she gets comfortable enough for him to even think about pulling her into bed with him.

maybe she was hiding off to the side when he came to the facility looking for a new companion. everyone has always picked the other, more-affectionate bunnies, so she had kind of lost hope - doesn't even lift her head to see who is cooing softly at the other bunnies. But suddenly she feels a gentle hand stroking over her soft ears, and a soft murmur is pulling her away from her quiet solitude - aye, and who's this sweet, little angel? look at tha'...softest thing ah've ever felt...

And he takes her home that same day, even though she refuses to meet his eye and curls away from him every time he runs his fingers over her sensitive ears. He knows it'll take time to win her over, and despite popular belief, Johnny can be patient. Especially when he knows what kind of reward is waiting for him at the end ;)

So for the next couple of months (yes, months - he puts in WORK) he tries to gain her trust. Buying her special treats, handfeeding her the 'fancy lettuce', always backing off when she thumps her foot against the ground when he gets too handsy - he does everything he can to make his sweet coney happy. He even builds her a little nook that she can hide out in if she wants to get away from him. And by some miracle, that seems to make her grow more affectionate with him. He nearly explodes with joy when she comes out of her cubby to sit next to him on the couch while he's watching TV, and he swears he almost cries when her head rests against his shoulder and she asks him in a shy, quiet voice if he can massage her ears.

And all of his hard work finally pays off when he wakes up one morning, eyes still crusted over and bleary from sleep - only to look down and see his little bunny, completely naked, humping his leg like her life depends on it. Looks like all those lonely years at the facility finally caught up to the poor bunny and she just couldn't take it anymore.

Luckily for bun, he's just as pent up as she is! So both of them are very pleased when he's using her soft, floppy ears as handlebars to rut into her like a man possessed - and his favorite part is seeing how her fluffy, cotton tail grows more and more soaked with the combination of her slick and Johnny's cum :))))) he's licking it clean after

simon: dog!hybrid, but specifically a very hyper, very affectionate mutt - one that he didn't want. I think simon is the only one who never actively sought out a hybrid for himself. He thinks it's wrong to own something that seems so human, but his teammates can see how he clenches his jaw whenever he hears them talking about their little pets back home - and john always catches that look of longing that flashes in his eyes before he's quickly covering it up with the aloof demeanor he always uses as a shield.

But one day they've got a mission to raid a supposed 'hybrid-training facility'. Turns out they were running an illegal hybrid breeding ring, and they were putting the 'unsellable' mutts through cruel experiments and tests so they could figure out how to make even more hybrid babies to sell.

And that's when he sees her - a pretty little pup that's been through the ringer. Looking at her, he thinks that she's way too young to be having a litter of her own, but according to the chart that hangs next to her cage - she's already had three litters. There are no hybrid pups to be found though - just her in the cage, using her last bit of energy to wag her tail as she stares up at simon with hope in her pretty brown eyes. Turns out the breeders had taken all the pups when they ran, likely to set up shop somewhere else with a fresh set of merchandise.

Hey, sweetheart - he murmurs softly as he unlocks the cage, being as gentle and careful as he can as he scoops her up from beneath her arms - but she still cries softly as her sore body presses up against his. I know, love, I know...I've got ya. C'mon, let's get you cleaned up, sweet girl.

And he's there with her through the whole process of recovering in the hospital - mainly because he doesn't have a choice. The poor pup whines whenever he tries to leave, and it makes his heart ache in a way he never thought was possible. Price is the one who encourages him to take some time off and 'get to know his new pet'.

And he does take that time off, but she's never just a pet to him. Not when he saw how she looked the day she finally worked up the courage to scoot closer to him on the couch, ears held back like she was waiting for him to yell at her for getting close, or how he's the only one she'll trust to rub her distended belly when she gets phantom aches (her body never did go back to normal after all those forced pregnancies - even her heats were few and far between now).

And honestly? He's the only one out of the guys who isn't trying to sleep with their hybrid. It isn't until over two years in that it finally happens, and only because she was going through a particularly rough heat. She's whining in pain like she did the very first day he met her, and he just can't take it. He's never been so gentle in his life, working her open as slowly as he can, watching her face for any sign of discomfort or hesitation. But he never finds any. The only thing he sees staring back at him is love and trust that he never thought he'd deserve - but he's finally found it in those pretty brown eyes.

nikolai: kitty!!!!! kitty!hybrid aalllllll the way. siberian cat to be specific. he almost got a bengal cat!hybrid because he likes having access to exotic things, but he felt too guilty about the thought of keeping it in the cold, russian tundra he lives in - so he found a kitty that was built for the cold!

And he's so grateful that he did. Because he is absolutely, 110% enamored with the fluffy, soft fur that adorns his hybrid's body along with her striking blue eyes. She very quickly becomes, quite possibly, the most spoiled thing on the planet. You better believe he's slapping a (very real, very expensive) diamond collar on his hybrid by the end of their first day together.

She's always prancing around his house with her fluffy tail bobbing behind her, chin held high like she's the goddamn queen of sheba - and to Nikolai? She might as well be.

He loves playing with his little kitty - watching her eyes grow big as he shines a laser pointer on the couch beside her, making her jump up from her previously cozy position to catch it before he moves the little red dot out of reach. She'll do it for about three minutes, but she's always too lazy to keep going, so he just laughs and settles for rubbing the soft tufts of fur on her belly. You are spoiled little girl, eh? I wonder whose fault that is... Though, she does love to jump out from behind corners to try and scare him, and he always pretends to jump for her sake, just so he can hear her giggle as her scoops her up and promises to punish her for being such a naughty kitty.

He's got a special spot in his hangar just for his little kotenok since he can't bear to part with her for too long. it's got a million toys and cushions and fur blankets - even a heating pad just to keep her warm - but she still always slinks her way over him while he tinkers away on whatever he's working on that day. but he never scolds her - he'll just let her curl up in his lap while he reaches his arms around her to keep working. and he'll press a soft kiss to her head every couple of minutes, just to hear her trill quietly as she lifts her head closer to him. It always pulls a deep chuckle from within him, and those vibrations lead to his hybrid pushing her paws against his chest to march as gently as she can. She doesn't want to distract her owner when he's doing something important, but sometimes her sharp claws still catch on his shirt and scratch his chest on accident. He'll never let her feel guilty about it, though - he's honored, actually. Always leaving his shirt a bit unbuttoned to display his scratches to everyone like they're a trophy.

And if him and his hybrid are together around literally anyone else? Everyone is uncomfortable. Because why is he hand-feeding his hybrid anchovies while she sits in his lap during a meeting? And why does her big, fluffy tail keep brushing against his face while they both giggle and whisper quietly to each other? Why is he scratching at the base of her tail? Is she licking the leftover juice from his fingers? Oh, they're about to - oh, there go their clothes! Ok, time to go- no, Johnny, you cant watch.. Meeting's over. You'll have to see yourself out.

Also, he always leaves that collar on when he's fucking his kitty just so he can see it glinting in the light as he makes her bounce and mewl softly - and if he wants her to be a bit louder? He's tugging at that fluffy tail until she forgets what a pretty, fancy cat she is and starts yowling like a stray in heat.

[voxslays]

MY LOVE IS MINE ALL MINE — HWANG IN-HO

Misery. That’s all you felt. It all started when your husband had told you he needed to go to the island to watch over the games, and practically begged you to come along so he could keep an eye on you and your unborn child. It all seemed so innocent and simple.

That was until Gi-hun, a former winner of the games returned once more to play ‘the hero’ as your husband liked to say. After he helped the players survive in red light, green light, your husband was given no choice but to join the games—leaving you, your unborn child, and a few circle guards, who acted as personal bodyguards, alone.

You watched from afar as your husband disguised himself as player 001, hiding himself amongst the crowd and personally joining Gi-hun’s circle. You were so close to the due date, and scared. What if your husband wasn’t back in time? What would you do then?

As the days passed, you could feel the baby kicking more frequently, a reminder of the life growing inside you and the husband who should be by your side. Instead, you were left alone in the mansion, with only the guards for company.

Meanwhile, the Gi-hun and a few other players were planning to infiltrate the games and kill the frontman. Little did they know, he was with them all along. In-ho was quick to fake his death, scurrying to get his triangle and square guards to finish the players off, and stop Gi-hun.

In-ho runs up the stairs to your shared private quarters, stopping at the sound of a distant wailing cry. As he slowly gets closer, he pulls out his gun, just in case. As he turns around the corner, he is surprised with the sight of a few circle guards (masks off), two doctors, a nurse, and a small infant in your arms. You had given birth? Already?

“In-ho!” You look up from the mewling newborn. “You’re back.” You smile warmly. "I am." He gives you a rare smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. He watches you coo at your new bundle of joy. In-ho sees the circles under your eyes, your messy hair, and your tired expression. He realizes how much pain you must've gone through giving birth alone, guilt filling his stomach. "Was it painful?"

“Yes. But I’m alright now.” His expression softens. In-ho slowly approaches you, setting his gun down on the nightstand before carefully sitting down next to you. He looks at the small infant with a hint of curiosity and fondness. "Can I hold him?"

“Of course.” You smile, tiredly handing your son over. “He is your son after all.” He gently takes the baby, supporting his tiny head with one hand. His eyes search your face, a flicker of something tender and vulnerable there. "He's perfect…" He cradles the baby closer, then suddenly looks concerned. "Have you eaten? Had water?"

“Yes, Jagiya.” You coo in Korean, gently cupping his face. Jagiya—My darling. It's a term of endearment that warms his chest. In-ho leans into your touch, eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment. When he opens them again, they're filled with a fierce protectiveness. "I apologize for not being here."

“I forgive you.” You smile as he hands your newborn son back into your arms. “I love you.” You say sitting up to kiss him as you cradle the little tot. In-ho captures your lips in a tender kiss, his heart aching with love and regret. He holds you both close, feeling the warmth of your bodies and the gentle coos of your baby.

For a moment, he forgets about the games, the players, and his role as the Frontman. All the pain and suffering he has gone through because of the games. The loss of his first wife and child. It all disappears as he mutters three words. “I love you.”

[neilsbeloved]

company of four

summary: your world stops the moment clark tells you he’s finally introducing you to his friends, not because you want to stay hidden as his mysterious girlfriend, but because of your distasteful past encounters with his friends. (based on this request!)

pairing: clark kent x fem!popular!reader!

tags: fluff / mentions of past bullying / clark being whipped / hidden relationships / first meetings / uses y/n (like twice)

Clark, who was lying down on his bed with arm stretched behind his head, has been watching you try on a gazillion combinations of tops, pants, and earrings for the past hour.

When he had told you that his friends had been wanting to see this mysterious girlfriend he's been hinting on for weeks, you were quite hesitant to say the least.

Actually—you were very hesitant.

Not only were you one of the most popular students in Smallville High, but you didn't exactly have the cleanest track record when it comes to your relationship with people. Clark and his friends—Chloe and Pete—included.

Now, you're still on your fifth pair of earrings. Your ears all red and itchy already.

"You're meeting my friends, not some editor at a fashion magazine." Clark throws a football up in the air, catching it just in time with you turning around.

"Clark," you say sternly, shooting him a look. "Circle one or triangle?"

He straightens up, muttering a quiet apology before answering: "Circle. Chloe likes circles."

You nod, removing the dangling triangle earring on your left ear before replacing it with the circle one. You grab your hair brush from Clark's cabinet, running it through your hair as you walked to the other side of the room in a rush.

"For the bag—which one do you think Pete'd dig?"

"Are you their girlfriend or mine?" Clark jokes, hoping to see even a small smile on your face. He quiets down when you glare at him once more. "Sorry, the brown one."

You throw Clark the burgundy one, moving your regular items from your everyday bag to the brown one he chose.

Clark stands up from the bed, groaning softly as he stretches his back.

"Look, babe, they've been waiting to meet you for over a month now. I'm more than sure they'll be happy to meet you whether or not you're wearing Chloe's favorite color or you know Pete's favorite comic book." He rests his head on your shoulder, hugging you from the back as he rocks you side to side.

You sigh, glancing at him over your shoulder. His nose bumping with yours. "Clark, that's before they find out that your girlfriend's one of the people that were bullying them for years."

"Oh please, you never really wanted to be involved with those people. You were just…" Clark purses his lips, trying to think of the best word. "…misguided, okay? You're not anymore, so you could stop worrying about that and just relax, y'know?"

"I had Chloe be removed as the Torch editor for a whole school year," you start, "Pete got injured in his shin because my friends found it funny to trip him while playing basketball," you add again, Clark cringing at the memory.

You exhale defeatedly, pulling away from Clark to sit on the edge of the bed. Massaging your own temples to try and relieve some of the stress.

Clark keeps a determined look. Taking a seat beside you before he places an arm around your shoulder. The warmth of his body immediately making you melt into him.

"I know you've done things you aren't proud of, things you don't even want to remember… but you can't just avoid those you've wronged forever," Clark pulls you close, nuzzling his face in your hair. "Sooner or later you're gonna have to actually speak to those people and say sorry."

"And if they don't accept my apology, what then? Clark, I'm not gonna let you choose between me and your friends." You snap at him.

Clark looks at you with a surprised look, not expecting you to lose your temper. When you notice what just happened, your features soften, mumbling a continuous apology as you looked at your hands on your lap.

He shushes you, taking your hands in his as he intertwines both of your fingers together. "Who said I had to?"

"If there's one thing I know about my friends, it's that they're not the kind of people you think they are." Clark looks into your eyes with a tenderness you've grown to love about him. "They know how to forgive, and they know how to understand people."

A small smile comes onto your lips as he kisses your forehead, tightening his hold on your hands. "Now stop worrying about my friends and focus on getting ready. I don't think I can last thirty more minutes helping you choose the color lipstick you should wear."

His face shines when he hears a laugh come out of you, willingly letting you go as you stand up to resume getting ready in the corner—close by the window, so you had some natural light whenever you put on make-up—Clark had cleared out just for you.

You smirk at him, teasing and lighthearted, holding out the bullet lipstick you keep in your bag. "Don't worry, Clark, I don't have blue lipstick for you to choose anyway."

The jitters gnaw at you the faster you and Clark arrive at the Talon.

Clark kept his hand in yours, squeezing it every now and then as a sort of comfort. When you see the Talon's signage appear into view, you tense up indefinitely.

"We're here," he announces, parking on the curb faster than you expected. "Ready to meet them?"

You shake your head as an answer but Clark only laughs at you. He exits the car, running over to your side to help you get down from the truck. One of the chivalrous things Clark does that you've gotten used to.

The two of you stand outside the Talon's doors, a considerable amount of distance between the two of you.

Clark calls your name, stopping you right before you can come inside the cafe. "Are we coming in as a couple or as chemistry partners—babe, come closer," Clark pulls you to his side with a scoff.

"Clark." You glare at him, biting back the complaint that tries to surface. "Don't get pushy."

He ignores your warning, shamelessly slipping his hand into yours as he pushes open the doors, immediately getting overwhelmed by the dozens of people inside of the Talon.

Your eyes quickly latch onto two of Clark's friends sitting around a circle table, Chloe and Pete having their own respective beverage as they conversed—or argued—with each other comfortably.

Each step you took felt like a step towards suffocating yourself. Feeling the air inside the Talon barely enough for everyone inside of it.

You clench your jaw, trying your best to keep calm despite the percussions pounding inside of you. Clark kept a smile on his face, unaware of the internal dilemma you're having.

When you finally reach their table, Clark yells out their name. Both Chloe and Pete turning to your direction with a smile, only for it to drop the moment their eyes drop to your interlaced hands.

You gulp. Unable to speak.

Clark opens up with a normal hey, giving them both a side hug before gesturing towards you. The way your name slips off of his mouth making you cringe.

"This is…" Your name rolls off of his tongue in a way that makes you cringe uncharacteristically. "And she's my girlfriend."  Clark turns to you with a smile, wide enough to show everyone his sharp canines.

An uneasy silence settles over the four of you—this time, even Clark isn't safe from it.

This is the worst experience ever you think to yourself as you start brainstorming the quickest way to just fall on the floor unconscious.

By the time you've thought about five ways, you hear someone speak.

"Is this some silly prank? I'm sure I vividly remember you and your group of highschool hotshots doing everything you can to make all of our lives a living hell?" Chloe, being the ever-so upfront member of the trio, says in one breath.

Your jaw drops. Out of all of the things his friends can bring up to you, that one was something you didn't expect.

You try your best to speak up—to apologize for it, but Chloe beats you to it. Again.

"I'm just kidding," she laughs loudly, her eyes crinkling into crescent moons as all of you let out the breath you were all unknowingly holding. "It's nice to finally meet you, Y/N."

You quickly take her hand and shake it, a surprised huff leaving your lips as Pete shakes your hand as well.

Clark looks at the three of you with a proud smile, pulling out a chair for the both of you once the introductions ended.

Before the conversation between the four of you even started, you apologized first. Showing them the raw and genuine side that you had to yourself; apologizing for everything that you and your friends had done to them since grade school.

Clark squeezed your hand from underneath the table, gazing at you affectionately as you began engaging his friends in an all out conversation about something niche.

The moment a Talon staff placed two extra glasses of mocha cappuccinos, another member of Clark’s circle is introduced. This time, someone you’re partially close with already.

“You’re with Clark?” Lana’s voice raises, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

Clark cuts in, “Lana, this is Y/N, my girlfriend.”

The brunette looks to Chloe and Pete, both of them looking at you consolingly. You didn’t expect another round of awkward silence to happen but it does, and maybe you should’ve expected this one the moment Clark told you he’s taking you to the Talon.

After some time of you waiting for Lana to speak, she finally does. “It’s good to see Clark finally happy.”

“Oh,” you turn to Clark, slightly growing confused at the entire situation. “I, uhm—“

“She makes me very happy, Lana,” Clark says with a tone of finality, placing an arm on your shoulder. “Hopefully, I make her happy too.”

Lana smiles, nodding as she excuses herself. A loud huff coming from Chloe when she finally notices your earrings—though you know it was only to get rid of the thorny situation.

A compliment left her lips as she stared at it with fascination, the genuineness in her voice making you smile. Pete follows up with a compliment too, this time about your bag—you're practically glowing with happiness.

Clark throws you a look, catching your eye as that smug little smile on his face tells you that he's soaking up every compliment you got thanks to his brilliant choices.

As it turns out, meeting his friends wasn't as scary as you thought it'd be. Or maybe that's only because they aren't what you're used to.

Nevertheless, it made you feel very much at home; sipping coffee at the Talon, your boyfriend's hand in yours, enjoying everyone's company.

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! xoxo

[inseobts]

Roses or Swords - choose your story pt.1

zoro x fem!reader + sanji x fem!reader

how it works

a/n: let's tryyyyy, hope we'll all have fun with it! let's try short and easy and remember to vote at the end.

tags: love triangle, secret admirer, slow burn, crew dynamics... the rest tags will come with your choices.

words count: 2.1k

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The sun sets over a new island.

The scent of salt and citrus drifts on the wind, and the golden light dances across the water like glitter. A couple of seagulls circle overhead, crying out before gliding toward the trees beyond the village.

Orange and pink mix in the sky like paint on a canvas. The Thousand Sunny is docked by a peaceful shore, where a small village waits nearby.

Sanji stirs a pot in the kitchen. The smell of garlic and herbs floats through the air. He hums quietly but stops when he hears your voice from the deck.

“Sanji! It smells soooo good! What is it?”

You’re smiling. Just one sentence. Just one smile. It’s enough to make his chest feel tight, but he only smiles back and nods.

“Dinner will be ready soon. A surprise!” he says. Calm. Simple. Not his usual heart-eyed, dramatic self. He doesn’t spin or cry or float in the air like a cartoon.

You blink in surprise “No… ‘Mademoiselle’, or ‘Goddess of the sea’ today? Nothing? No heart eyes?”

He shrugs “Trying something new. Something serious.”

You laugh a little and walk away as you dramatically say "I'm even wearing a new shirt..."

Sanji watches you leave. Then, he sighs and stirs the soup harder, and as soon as he's sure you won't listen he softly says "Oh I noticed the cute light blue shirt... Of course I noticed... It suits you so well, Y/N..."

Later, in the village, the crew splits up to explore. You go with Robin and Nami to the market to find something cute to but. Sanji tags along for a while, but when he sees a group of local women smiling his way, he walks over to them.

He turns on his charm side “Ladies, may I say, this village is full of beauty.”

They giggle. You don’t even turn around. You’re busy looking at some books with Robin.

He keeps glancing your way.

“She didn’t even flinch. Not one look. Not even a roll of the eyes. She doesn't care at all.” He thinks.

Sanji’s smile fades. He says something kind to the women and excuses himself. Going on the opposite side from you.

That night, as you walk back to the girls' room, you find something in there.

A small bouquet of red and white roses. Tied with a blue ribbon. A small note with your name on it and a heart, nothing more.

You gasp.

“Who…?” You hold them close and smile so wide your cheeks hurt. You run to show it to Robin.

Robin tilts her head “There’s no name?”

“No… but look how beautiful! And they smell so good.” You pull two petals off carefully and hold them out “Can we press these into a heart? For a bookmark?”

Robin smiles warmly “Of course. I’ll help you.”

She helps you press them into a book. You choose your favorite one to do it.

Sanji watches you from the kitchen door. He can’t hear your words, but your smile says everything.

“She loved it. I'm happy.” he whispers to himself.

He exhales slowly, the sound almost lost in the quiet hum of the ship.

There is warmth in your smile, but it isn't aimed at him. Not really. He turns back to the stove, tasting the soup with a wooden spoon. It's perfect... but suddenly felt bland.

The next morning, Zoro finds you sitting on the deck, holding the roses bouquet in your lap.

“What’s with the flowers?” he asks, yawning.

You look up, dreamy “I got them last night. A secret admirer, maybe? I don't know, there was no name apart mine on it. And a heart.”

Zoro raises an eyebrow “Seriously? Someone on this island? Who?”

You nod “Must be. No one on this crew would do that. Maybe that guy who stopped me at the marked. But I don't know... he looked more interesting in having the book I was holding than in me. Or maybe that one who gave me a strawberry from his stand. I have no idea.”

He doesn’t reply. Just watches you as you smell the roses again.

Sanji walks by with a tray of tea “Mosshead, stop standing around. You’re wasting space as always.”

Zoro grunts “Tch. I wasn’t talking to you.”

Sanji doesn’t look at him. He gives you your tea before leaving to give the rest to Nami and Robin.

His eyes go to the roses.

Then to you.

Then away.

“Some people don’t appreciate beauty until it’s handed to them.” he says quietly, walking into the kitchen.

Zoro frowns but didn't hear what Sanji said.

You also don’t hear it. You’re still lost in your petals.

The Thousand Sunny bobs gently at the edge of another island. This one is bigger than the last and lush with trees and a quiet beach, but no nearby villages.

The crew is back from a short scouting trip. You’re walking toward the deck when you hear Brook’s voice.

“Yohohoho~! What is that? Can I open it??”

Everyone turns. On a crate near the mast sits a small, wrapped box. It’s neat and tied with a ribbon, not flashy, but special. A folded note rests on top.

Your heart skips reminding of the roses of last time.

Nami walks over and picks up the card “It says your name Y/N.”

Usopp whistles “Oooooh! Another gift from you admirer?? Let’s see, let’s see!”

You hurry over and gently take the box. You untie the ribbon, fingers shaking a little.

Inside, there’s a beautiful bracelet made of sea glass and tiny shells, all smooth and shining under the sun. In the center is a silver charm: a little star.

“Oh my god...” you whisper “It’s so pretty.”

You hold it up and the sunlight dances through the sea glass. A big smile spreads across your face.

“Wow” you breathe “They made this. You can tell.”

Nami nods “Definitely handmade. Whoever this is, they’re thoughtful.”

Luffy leans in, eyes wide “Someone gave you treasure jewelry?!”

Then he frowns deeply “Who’s trying to steal someone from my crew?”

Usopp laughs “Luffy, she’s not getting kidnapped or anything.”

“But still!” Luffy crosses his arms “This person… what if they’re evil?!”

Brook chuckles “Maybe a romantic villain~! Yohohoho!”

You giggle and slide the bracelet on your wrist “This means it can’t be a villager from the last island as we thought. We're already on a new island…”

Nami taps her chin “Hmm… that is strange. First roses, now this.”

“Could be another pirate!” Usopp suggests “Someone who saw her and got smitten! I bet it's that Eustass Kid, he looked flustrated talking with her last time!”

Brook adds, “Or maybe it's a marine! One of those strong and silent ones? And it explains why they don't let you know their identity.”

Your eyes go wide “No way, really? You think that could happen?”

Sanji watches from behind the railing. He lights a cigarette. His hands are almost shaking.

“She didn’t even think it could be me. Not even a little. Who else she thinks could know how she likes her jewelry.” He thinks.

He forces a smile and walks toward the kitchen before anyone notices him staring like that.

Inside, he leans against the wall. His heartbeat is loud in his ears.

“She’s smiling. That’s all that matters, right?”

But still…

On the deck, Zoro stands near the railing, arms crossed. He watches you from the corner of his eye as you show the bracelet to Nami and Brook.

When Usopp says, “Maybe she actually has a secret boyfriend and she doesn’t want to let us know!”

Zoro’s jaw tightens at that. He turns and walks away.

Every step away from you made his chest feel tighter. He hated this feeling of being… replaced. And worse, not knowing if he has any right to feel that way.

“Where are you going?” Nami calls after him.

“Nowhere.” he mutters.

You look over and see his back as he disappears below deck.

Weird. Is he… mad?

You shake the thought away. Your fingers trace the charm again.

Whoever they are… they’re watching. And you want to know who.

You lean over the railing, watching the ocean sparkle like glass. The bracelet dangles from your wrist, catching the sun. It still makes you smile.

But something else makes your chest feel heavy.

Zoro’s been weird.

He barely talks to you anymore. No usual dry jokes, no comments during training, not even a simple “hey” when you walk by. You used to sit on the deck in silence together, side by side, and it never felt awkward.

Now he walks away every time you get close.

So today, you decide to follow him “Zoro!”

He doesn’t stop.

You jog after him across the deck “Zoro. Hey. Hey! Wait!”

He finally turns, not angry, but definitely annoyed “What?”

You frown “Okay, what’s your deal?”

“No deal.”

“Seriously? You’ve been avoiding me for days. You barely even look at me anymore. You don't even talk to me.”

He crosses his arms and glances away “You’re imagining things.”

“No, I’m not.” you say, stepping closer “Did I do something?”

Zoro sighs, then mutters, “No.”

You tilt your head “Then why are you acting weird?”

He hesitates.

You wait.

He looks away again and mutters, “I don’t like this secret admirer thing.”

You blink “What?”

“I said...” he scratches the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable, “...I don’t like it.”

You’re confused “...Why?”

His jaw tightens “Because you don’t know who it is. Could be dangerous.”

You raise an eyebrow “Dangerous? They left me roses and a bracelet, Zoro. Not a bomb.”

“Still,” he says, avoiding your eyes, “you’re trusting someone who won’t even show their face.”

You fold your arms “You think they’re trying to hurt me?”

“I think you’re being too careless.” he says sharply, then softens a little “What if it’s someone using the gifts to get close to you for the wrong reason?”

You pause. For a second, you almost believe him.

But something feels… off.

“That’s not the real reason, is it?” you ask, voice quiet.

Zoro opens his mouth, then closes it.

You step closer “Zoro. We’re friends. You always tell me when something bothers you. Don’t stop now.”

He looks at you for a long moment.

Then he turns his back “I told you why. You don't believe me... So, just forget it.”

And just like that, he walks away again.

Leaving you there, staring after him, the sea glass on your wrist suddenly feeling a little heavier than before.

You watch Zoro’s back as he disappears into the lower deck again.

Your heart sinks. It’s not just about the secret admirer, something else is pulling him away from you. And he won’t say what.

You sigh, fingers touching the charm on your bracelet. The silver star is warm, but it doesn’t comfort you as much today.

Fingers wrapped around your wrist where the bracelet is.

You don’t take it off. Can’t.

But the questions in your head run like waves in a storm. Who left it? Why Zoro ispulling away? Why Sanji kept looking like he wants to say something but never does?

You sigh and turn toward the stars... they blink gently, like they know more than they're telling.

As you stand frozen between the open kitchen and the quiet stairs, Luffy passes by munching on a chunk of meat.

“You okay?” he asks, tilting his head.

“Kinda,” you say “Just thinking.”

Luffy gives you a nod “Thinking too much makes your head hurt. That’s why I only do it sometimes.”

You smile despite yourself “Thanks, Luffy.”

“You want meat?” he offers.

You shake your head and laugh “I’ll be fine.”

He leaves.

As you stand there thinking, a voice cuts through the silence behind you.

“Are you actaully okay, sweetheart?”

You turn and find Sanji leaning in the doorway of the kitchen, cigarette between his lips, soft worry in his eyes.

“Not really... No...” you say honestly.

Sanji steps forward “Want some tea? Some ice cream? You look like you could use a break. And something sweet.”

You hesitate. You could use the tea. And the company.

But another part of you still wants to chase after Zoro. You’re not ready to give up on him, not yet.

You remember the night you sprained your wrist during a training session. Zoro barely said a word at the time, just handed you a cold pack and sat beside you in the dark. You’d watched the stars in silence, shoulders brushing. That night, it felt like he’d always be there. And that's how your friendship actually started.

Or maybe… you should stop thinking about both of them and just talk to the rest of the crew. Laugh. Take your mind off this whole emotional mess.

You look from the stairs Zoro vanished into, to Sanji’s open, waiting hand.

And then out to the deck where Usopp and Nami are chatting about your secret admirer again.

Choices spin in your head.

[inc0mple]

Shape Language in Cinderella Boy: An Analysis

Hello, world, I come with an analysis. Also known as more proof that Punko is a genius, in case you were in doubt.

So first of all, we know that violet is a beautiful iconic queen.

Look at her. Queen.

Violet's features are very distinctive - all of the keys are very distinctive. She has tall shoulder pads that slim down to a form-fitting dress that wraps around her ankles - in this way, she is shaped more or less like an arrow, pointing downwards.

Now let's look at Buddy's outfits throughout season one.

Violet gives him this same shape, time and time again. He is shaped like Violet is, through the clothes that he wears; this downward arrow sort of look. And it fits both of them; villans are commonly pointy. If you look at many villanous characters in media, you will see that triangles are incorporated into their designs all the time. Triangles are less friendly looking than other shapes - they make us think of sharp, pointy things. And Buddy's outfit contributes to it, too. The way his shoulder pads, fabric layers, and even boob windows are shaped all contributed to this sort of top-heavy, narrowing atmosphere. (It also makes him look pretty, which he is).

Now let's look at Silver.

Silver is less pointy than Violet because her job is the heroine, and when we see round things, we think of them as more comfortable objects - soft, smooth, not prickly to the touch. Friendly. But in addition to this roundness, Silver is shaped like an hourglass, a shape feminine and strong. And if you look at the outfits worn by Chase:

They often don this same hourglass shape. Interesting too because usallly the hourglass is more prominent on the bottom (most obvious in the 2nd image above), which means that if you simplify him, he is often shaped as a triangle with the base resting on the ground - while Buddy is an upside down triangle. They are each other's opposites, not only in archetype and personality, but in their simplest composites: their actual physical shape.

It works for Deacon and Bronze, and Prunella and Goldie, too. The outfits of the keyholders match the shapes of the keys.

Bronze is shaped like a rectangle...

Deacon is a gawky boy.

Square shapes are often sturdy and reliable. As the helper, this is Deacon and Bronze's whole job. In addition, you can see that sometimes Deacon also dons a trapezoid shape around his shoulders, with the shorter base on the top and the longer base on the bottom. This is most noticable with the Still Waters and RoBaM arc outfits, and it also contributes to this feel of "groundedness".

Finally, Goldie and Prunella. I think this is the most clear example.

Goldie is not pointy. He is round, friendly, and affable. His smile is rounded, his eyes are round, even the tips of his hair do not sharpen to a point. He has the same roundness that Silver does, particularly in his shoulders (REMEMBER THIS, THIS WILL BE IMPORTANT LATER), and his armor gives him another larger circle to more or less center the two smaller circles. Thus, Goldie is shaped like Mickey Mouse.

And it is very. Very. Very obvious with Prunella.

Because she is a kid. She's innocent, childish, carefree - I wouldn't say playful, nessecarily, but her age alone implies that she is much more of this rounded shape than the older characters.

And these clothes support their personalities. Like a bow or an hourglass-shaped dress, Chase is feminine and cute; Deacon is sensible and grounded, reliable. Buddy is all triangles, he's prickly and triangles also have a proven visual appeal to them that Buddy is well able to match. And Prunella has shapes of circles and hearts and semicircles in her outfits - what I like most about her shape language is that even though I illustrated her skirt as a circle, it is often flat on the bottom, which ALSO makes her seem grounded, just like Deacon's trapezoid.

Buddy's shoulder pads intriuge me most. Because they are all very pointy. Look at his cat outfit, or those over-the-top shoulder pads in Sick Day. All except for one arc.

Still Waters.

The finale.

Because of the way Buddy's outfit is, he still has the arrow shape that Violet does. However, this time, due to the fluff, his shoulders are much more rounded.

Like Silver.

Like Goldie.

Like a hero.

Like, Y'ALL.

ROUND:

POINTY:

ROUND.

Because this arc, this moment, is when Buddy becomes a hero. He stops with the triangle-shaped shoulder pads that have until now been cohesive with villainry, and donned the roundness to his shoulders that the hero archetypes have, via the fluff.

And it's really, really cool.

And what's also cool about it is that it doesn't only extend to these outfits!! Compare Deacon and Chase's houses, for example; there is shape language there. It's everywhere in a lot of media, and it is so cool to me that it was intergrated into Cinderella Boy in this way.

Sadly I already typed this out once before, accidentally deleted it, and had to rewrite it - so I'm going to stop there, lol. I promise the analysis of the Still Waters fit was much more cohesive the first time, but I think the point still gets across

I did it. Tada

[p0orbaby]

Leah/YN double date with Beth/Viv x

-

You’re ten minutes into the double date and already considering chewing the coaster.

The bar is trying very hard. It smells like burnt thyme and ambition. The menus are printed on recycled paper and balanced on small pieces of slate. The waiter has a moustache you’d describe as “historical” and says the phrase “taste journey” without flinching.

Across from you, Beth Mead is holding court.

She’s halfway through a story that definitely started out about an Uber driver and has now detoured into something involving a dog, two bottles of rosé, and a broken patio chair.

Vivianne is sipping her drink like it’s a performance review. Neutral. Withheld. Judging the ice cubes.

Leah is beside you, legs angled toward yours like she’s physically magnetised. Her hand’s on your knee under the table, thumb tracing absent little circles like she’s reading Braille you didn’t know you had.

“Anyway,” Beth says, waving a prawn toast triangle like a wand, “the dog was fine, but I couldn’t use that pair of shoes ever again. Like, emotionally.”

Viv sighs without looking up. “You’ve told this story three times this month.”

“Because it’s good. It’s educational. Teaches people not to trust Labradoodles.”

“She tells it on nights out,” Leah adds, stage-whispering to you. “Every time she’s had more than two drinks and no one’s actively monitoring her.”

“I am a gift,” Beth says, shoving the rest of the toast into her mouth.

You glance down at your cocktail, which came in a vintage teacup and tastes like anxiety and basil.

Leah catches your expression, leans in. “Too herby?”

“It’s like drinking the garnish section of a garden centre.”

She grins, all teeth and low affection. “Want to swap? Mine’s violently fruity.”

You trade. She was right. It’s like a Capri-Sun went through puberty.

Viv watches the exchange with the vague air of someone who has already texted get me out to three separate people.

“So,” she says, cutting neatly through the chaos, “how long have you two been dating now?”

You blink. Leah answers before you can.

“Four months. Technically. But we were seeing each other for a bit before that.”

Beth raises an eyebrow. “Seeing each other like ‘seeing each other at training’ or seeing each other like when Leah was showing up to media day with glitter on her collarbone?”

Leah doesn’t even flinch. “Seeing each other like I memorised her coffee order before I had her number.”

You freeze.

“You did what?”

She shrugs. “It wasn’t creepy. It was observant. And romantic. And a little creepy.”

Beth fake-retches into her cocktail. Viv looks vaguely impressed.

Leah’s hand squeezes your knee. You lean into her shoulder slightly, just to feel her laugh vibrate through it.

The night goes on. More drinks. More stories. Beth tries to convince the table to do a group holiday (“Viv, stop looking at me like that, I’m serious”). Someone orders fries and forgets about them. The waiter returns with a shot on fire. You’re not entirely sure who ordered it. It ends up in Beth’s hands.

By the end of the evening, you’ve stopped noticing the weird smell from the bar candles or the aggressively curated playlist. Leah’s still close. Still steady. Still making you feel like it’s all just one long inside joke you’re lucky to be in on.

You leave with your hands full—of her, of warmth, of half-finished anecdotes and something approaching joy.

Outside, Beth’s yelling about karaoke. Viv is already unlocking the car.

You don’t say it, but you think it:

You could do this forever.

And you wouldn’t even need the fries.