Diana had a knack for chaos even when she wasn’t trying. Case in point: today. She waltzed into your apartment, grinning like she’d just won some invisible prize, and behind her… Nubia. Her sister. Yes, the impossibly perfect Amazon who made you feel like a mortal who had accidentally wandered into Olympus.

You blinked. Twice. Then smirked, deciding it was impossible to resist.

“Hey,” you said, voice too smooth for your own good, leaning casually against the kitchen counter.

Nubia raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement curling at the corner of her mouth. “Hey.”

It was a simple greeting, but the way she looked at you made your stomach do gymnastics. Her eyes were sharp, confident, yet playful—like she knew the game already.

You moved a step closer, jokingly brushing against her arm. “So, Diana tells me you’re off-limits?”

Nubia’s lips twitched. “Depends who’s asking.”

Before you could answer, Diana appeared beside you, arms crossed, expression somewhere between exasperated and dangerously amused. “It’s off-limits,” she said flatly. “Consider this a… temporary restraining order.”

You frowned, dramatically. “Temporary?”

“Yes,” Diana said, tone firm. “Forever.”

Nubia laughed, a rich, musical sound that made your pulse spike. “She’s serious,” she said, leaning in slightly. “But that doesn’t mean you have to stop smiling at me.”

“Oh, it’s not the smile that’s the problem,” you muttered, glancing at Diana, who was now tapping her foot like you’d just admitted to plotting world domination. “It’s the… aura. The confidence. The… everything.”

“You have no self-control,” Diana muttered, shaking her head.

You ignored her, turning back to Nubia. “So, what do you normally do when someone… flirts horribly with you?”

Her grin widened. “Depends on the flirter. Some I smack. Some I flirt back.”

You felt your pulse accelerate. “Oh.”

Diana grabbed your shoulder, tugging you aside. “Seriously,” she whispered, voice low and sharp. “Stop it. I mean it. She’s my sister. This is… bad idea territory.”

“Territory is overrated,” you whispered back, smirking.

Diana’s glare nearly froze you in place. “Do not test me.”

Meanwhile, Nubia’s laughter drifted over, teasing, light. She caught your eyes from across the room, the unspoken exchange crackling like electricity. You clenched your jaw, forced yourself to step back.

“Fine,” you muttered to Diana, like admitting defeat to a god. “I’ll… behave.”

Diana raised a brow. “I’ll be watching.”

You turned back to Nubia, smiling faintly, but keeping a respectable distance. She tilted her head, knowingly, as if she understood the struggle raging inside you.

“Good,” Diana said finally, letting go. “Let’s eat before you both kill each other with… whatever this is.”

You tried to focus on the mundane—setting plates, pouring drinks—but every glance at Nubia made your chest tighten, your thoughts spiral. She leaned over to grab the salad bowl, brushing against your hand.

“You know,” she said softly, “I don’t usually get stopped like this.”

You swallowed, heart hammering. “Yeah, me neither.”

And there it was: the impossible mix of temptation, rule-breaking, and undeniable chemistry. You were stuck—forced to fight your feelings, bite your tongue, and somehow navigate Diana’s wrath while the woman you wanted most leaned ever closer.

By the time dinner was over, you realized two things: 1) Diana was terrifyingly vigilant, and 2) Nubia was just as dangerous—because unlike Diana, she was willing to tease, play, and fight back.

And somehow, that made keeping your hands, words, and impulses in check feel like the hardest mission of your life.