#Bluetooth speaker dollar general

[orangameelectronics]

Make your outdoor adventures hands-free and full of great beats with these top-notch 40W Bluetooth speakers! 🎶🌲 No more missed calls, just non-stop tunes!

Looking for a portable and powerful solution to stay connected and enjoy your favorite tunes while on the move? Look no further. In this article, we will introduce you to the top 40W Bluetooth speakers for outdoor calls and music. Whether you're embarking on a camping trip, hosting a backyard barbecue, or simply want to enjoy music by the pool, these Bluetooth speakers are designed to deliver crisp audio and strong connectivity. From rugged and waterproof options that can withstand any weather condition, to sleek, stylish speakers that seamlessly blend with your outdoor setup, we've curated a list of the best speakers on the market. Prepare to be blown away by their impressive sound quality, long-lasting battery life, and convenient features like built-in microphones for hands-free calling. Say goodbye to the limitations of wired speakers and experience the freedom of wireless technology. Stay connected on the go with our top picks for outdoor calls and music. Get ready to elevate your outdoor experience to a whole new level. 

[kashverse]

us and geto having a selfcare day together? haircare, skincare, masks, nails all that good sh★t

wishing all the gays and girls and everyone in between to find a man like this 🙉💗🕺💐 happy birthday getooo <3

self-care sundays with your fiancé suguru are an event. they require extensive planning, a dedicated budget (suguru’s black card), and, most importantly, the unwavering commitment to looking unreasonably good while doing absolutely nothing.

the setup is pristine: warm candlelight flickering on the dresser, a bluetooth speaker playing kali uchis like it’s a sacred ritual, and your bed covered in self-care products. you’re both dressed in matching cow-print pajamas, a last-minute online impulse buy that suguru pretended to be unimpressed with but now wears with a very unserious level of smugness.

“ready?” you ask, holding up a jar of an expensive face mask. suguru tilts his head, arms crossed. “depends. is this the one that tingles and makes me question my choices, or the one that smells like an overpriced smoothie?”

“the latter,” you assure him, unscrewing the lid. “but we’re double-masking today, so you’ll get to experience both.” his dramatic sigh is muffled when you smear the cold mask over his face. suguru, being the effortlessly attractive menace that he is, somehow still looks good—even with streaks of green goop on his cheeks. he doesn’t even flinch. a seasoned veteran.

“i see you got everything from the list,” you say, reaching for the body butter. “of course. do you think i’d let you down?” he grins, stretching out his legs as he watches you. “i was a man on a mission at sephora. dodged at least five aggressive salespeople, flashed my wedding band to scare off a few flirts, and even walked out with my dignity intact.”

“that’s debatable,” you mutter, scooping out a generous amount of cream and rubbing it into your arms. he narrows his eyes. “i’ll have you know i was very graceful.”

“you spent thirty minutes contemplating which cuticle oil was ‘more luxurious.’”

“and look at us now. thriving,” he retorts, wiggling his fingers at you. “unbothered. moisturized. focused. flourishing.” you snort and reach for his hands, rubbing the excess body butter into his palms. he watches you closely, eyes half-lidded, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. suguru loves this part—where you take his hands and carefully massage each finger like it’s the most important thing in the world.

“i still can’t believe you dropped two hundred dollars on a serum,” you tease, reaching for the bottle in question. “oh, we’re still on that?” he chuckles. “you act like i don’t drop that on lunch.”

“lunch feeds you. this makes you glow.”

“and isn’t my glow worth every penny?” he flutters his lashes dramatically. you roll your eyes but can’t fight the smile creeping onto your face. “yeah, yeah. close your eyes.”

he obeys without question as you pat the serum into his skin, gentle and precise. suguru has the nerve to sigh like you’ve just lifted all his worries off his shoulders. “you are so spoiled,” you murmur, rubbing the product into his temples. he hums, eyes still closed. “and whose fault is that?” you smack his arm lightly, and he chuckles, leaning in to press a lazy kiss to your jaw.

once your faces are sufficiently pampered, suguru lounges against the pillows, eyes tracking your movements as you grab the nail polish. “so, what’s the color of the week?” he asks.

“baby pink,” you reply, shaking the bottle. his brows lift. “not my usual black?”

“nope. we’re doing soft aesthetic suguru this week.”

he doesn’t argue. he never does. instead, he stretches his hand toward you with all the regality of a man who has fully accepted his fate. “paint away, my love.” you start with his pinky, carefully brushing on the color, while suguru watches you like you’re the most interesting thing in the world.

“i love you, you know,” he says suddenly, voice soft.

your brush pauses for half a second before you resume, fighting the warmth creeping up your neck. “i know,” you say. “you show me all the time.”

his thumb traces lazy circles on your knee. “i’m gonna keep showing you. every day.”

your chest feels full. warm. like this moment—cow pajamas, kali uchis playing, suguru’s gentle affection—is something sacred.

“good,” you murmur. “now hold still, i’m not redoing these nails if you smudge them.”

he grins. “you're the boss.”

[solarmorrigan]

The Phantom Menace (no, not that one)

For the @steddie-spooktober day 28 prompt: Mask Rated: T | Words: 1118 | CW: None | Tags: established relationship, modern AU, Eddie Munson is a menace, Eddie Munson is whipped, Steve Harrington is a tease, for the good of everyone present at the Halloween party Divider credit: @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Eddie is a menace.

And a goddamn pain in the ass.

It’s not that Steve doesn’t love him – Eddie is very lucky that Steve does love him, in fact, because Steve would otherwise have lost his patience about half an hour into this shit and ditched him to find his own ride home from the Halloween party.

And Steve had even liked Eddie’s choice of costume at first. He’ll admit that he hadn’t been super into Phantom of the Opera when they’d watched it—a little too theatrical to really be up Steve’s alley—but he’d definitely seen the appeal in Eddie’s Phantom costume.

The waistcoat he’d thrifted had been a hell of a find; it fits him almost perfectly. He’d sewn a cloak that he’d had entirely too much fun twirling around in when he’d finished it. The white half mask had given him an alluring air of mystery, and with his hair tied back? The whole thing had added up to a very attractive picture.

Until the night of the party, when Eddie had decided to be, as previously mentioned, a fucking menace.

He’s been fucking with people all night; nothing mean or destructive (Steve supposes they should all count themselves lucky that Eddie isn’t playing with fire), but irritating as shit. He’s jumping out from around corners and scaring people, he’s stealing things off the snack table and leaving them in weird places, he keeps changing the music from generic Halloween shit to opera (no one is sure how he’s doing this, since access to the Bluetooth speaker is being carefully guarded), he laughs maniacally every time someone expresses annoyance with his tricks, and he’s refusing to stop unless he’s paid 20,000 francs.

Robin offered him a dollar to stop tugging the back of her shirt and running away any time she turns her back to him; he’d argued that the offer was far too low, but had graciously accepted after she’d threatened to smother him with his own cloak.

The most annoying part, however, is that he absolutely refuses to answer to his name. Any time someone snaps out some variation of “Eddie, cut it the fuck out,” he dramatically asks “Eddie? Who is this Eddie? I am The Phantom!” before turning away, flourishing his cloak like Batman as he goes.

“You’re his boyfriend,” Robin insists, leaning up against the counter beside Steve; he’s been hiding in the kitchen for the last half hour, hoping no one will remember that he and Eddie had shown up together, “can’t you make him stop?”

“You think I have literally any control over him?” Steve asks. “He’s like a tornado; you just have to wait him out and hope insurance covers whatever damage he causes.”

Robin snorts. “Okay, but can’t you use, like, your wiles?”

Steve stares at her. “My what?”

“Your wiles. You know, be sexy at him, or whatever.” Robin wiggles her fingers vaguely in Steve’s direction. “That man is weak for you. I’m willing to bet he’ll do anything you ask if you flash your cleavage at him.”

Steve crosses his arms over his chest, hiding the way the shirt of his Indiana Jones costume is halfway unbuttoned, gaping open to reveal a decent (or maybe slightly indecent) amount of skin. “I do not have cleavage.”

“Whatever.” Robin rolls her eyes, then perks up at the sound of Eddie’s crazed chuckling coming close to the kitchen doorway. “Oh! Here he comes! Do it!”

“I’m not going to–”

“Do it,” Robin hisses, tugging on Steve’s arm until he comes away from the counter and giving him a shove in the direction of the doorway just as Eddie comes sweeping through.

Robin skirts around him, pointing two fingers at her eyes and then jabbing a single finger at Eddie, the universal sign for I’m watching you, as she goes by, and Eddie holds his hands up in surrender. She takes a moment to send one more look over her shoulder at Steve before she leaves, and, well – Steve guesses he might as well try it, before someone actually decides to murder Eddie.

“Hey, Phantom,” Steve says, approaching the kitchen island.

Eddie, halfway through ladling punch into a plastic cup, looks up at Steve and grins. “Hello, there.” His voice is deeper than usual, a dramatic affectation for his costume, and any other time, Steve would appreciate the sexy rasp; unfortunately, it’s currently attached to Eddie in full pest mode.

“So,” Steve drawls, leaning his forearms on the island, making sure to angle himself so his shirt falls open just a little bit farther, “I’ve been meaning to ask: I don’t suppose you’ve seen my boyfriend, Eddie, around, have you?”

It takes Eddie a moment to answer, his eyes glued to the span of skin and chest hair Steve’s putting on display. “Eddie?” he finally asks, gaze snapping back up to Steve’s face. “I’m afraid I don’t know who you mean.”

Steve hums, a little, disappointed noise. “That’s too bad,” he says, giving Eddie a bit of a pout. “See, I thought his costume was pretty hot tonight, and I thought maybe we could… y’know, slip away from everyone else, so I could show him just how much I liked it.”

Eddie swallows. “You don’t say,” he says, voice gone a little faint.

“Mm.” Steve sighs. “But since I can’t find him, and you haven’t seen him, I guess I just won’t–”

“Actually,” Eddie cuts in, almost frantically, “now that you mention it, I think I might have seen him.”

A slow smirk draws across Steve’s face. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie nods quickly. “Let me just– I’ll go see if I can find him for you.”

“I’d appreciate it,” Steve says sweetly, leaning a little further onto the island (he does not, whatever Robin says, have cleavage, but if the move pushes his pecs up just a bit more, well – that’s just a bonus).

Eddie turns away, entirely forgetting to flourish his cloak, and ducks out through the kitchen doorway.

He reappears moments later, his white half-mask in hand, one side of his face still a little red and sweaty from where it’s been resting all night.

“Steve!” he exclaims, arms thrown wide. “I haven’t seen you all night! But, uh, someone told me that you’ve been looking for me.”

Steve rolls his eyes, coming around from behind the island; committed to the bit to the bitter end, that’s Eddie.

Somehow, Steve wouldn’t have him any other way.

“Someone was right,” Steve says, hooking a finger beneath Eddie’s bowtie and tugging him closer, leaning in to meet his lips in a deep kiss.

The Phantom doesn’t make an appearance for the rest of the night.

[estellan0vella]

To Han Jisung’s Sheer, Unbridled Stupidity: H.JS Han Jisung x fem!reader (College AU)

WC: 13.1K

CW: Simp Jisung (he's down bad), Horny Jisung, Minho being a menace (standard), mentions of sex, No Nut November, reader making Jisung go through it, teasing, Minho and reader shenanigans General Masterlist SKZ Masterlist Part I Part III

Rain hammers the windows, an unrelenting torrent that turns the world outside into a blur of grey streaks and rattles against the thin glass of Jisung’s room in the Alpha Phi house. The storm is angry, howling wind shaking the old frame of the window, thunder rolling like the earth is tearing itself apart. Inside, though, the room is a sanctuary, warm and alive, lit by the soft glow of Jisung’s desk lamp and the dim blue of the LED strips running haphazardly along the ceiling.

Million Dollar Baby pulses low from the Bluetooth speaker perched on a stack of textbooks Jisung will never read. The beat vibrates faintly through the cluttered room, mixing with the rhythm of the rain and the occasional sharp crack of thunder. 

You’re curled at his desk, the mirror in front of you streaked with fingerprints and old, faded smudges of eyeliner, slowly wiping your face clean of makeup. Each swipe of the cotton pad feels deliberate, calming. Your skin is bare now, the freckles you’ve always tried to ignore standing out starkly under the warm light.

Behind you, Jisung sprawls lazily on his unmade bed, his boxers riding low on his hips, the waistband crooked where he’s been shifting around. His messy silver hair sticks up in wild directions, and he looks as comfortable as someone with a hyperactive Staffordshire bull terrier puppy in their lap can be. Zak wriggles and squirms, tail going like a jackhammer as he attacks Jisung’s hands with relentless enthusiasm.

“Zak, you little shit, can you chill for, like, two fucking seconds?” Jisung groans, half-laughing as he tries to fend off the puppy’s relentless tongue. “I swear to God, he’s got no sense of boundaries.”

You glance at them through the mirror, a faint smile curling your lips. “He’s a puppy, Ji. What do you expect? He’s like a toddler on crack.”

“No, he’s a demon on fucking crack,” Jisung shoots back, wrestling Zak’s head away from his face. “Look at this little shit. He thinks he’s in charge.”

Zak, completely unbothered by the insult, barks sharply and lunges for Jisung’s shoulder. Jisung lets out an exaggerated yelp, flopping dramatically onto his back and letting the puppy clamber triumphantly onto his chest. “See? He’s already won. I’m fucking dead.”

You snort, turning back to the mirror to dab toner onto a fresh cotton pad. “You’re such a drama queen. Zak’s, like, a tenth your size.”

Jisung props himself up on one elbow, glaring at you through the chaos of his hair. “A tenth of my size but a hundred fucking times more chaotic. Don’t let his cute little face fool you. He’s a fucking menace.”

You glance back over your shoulder, watching as Zak starts gnawing on the hem of Jisung’s boxers. “Yeah, he’s a menace because you let him walk all over you. He’s got you wrapped around his little paw, and you fucking know it.”

“Bullshit,” Jisung says, but there’s no heat in his voice. His hand comes up to scratch behind Zak’s ears, and the puppy melts, flopping onto his side with a happy grunt. Jisung grins smugly, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “See? Total fucking alpha over here.”

You roll your eyes so hard you swear they might get stuck. “You’re impossible,” you mutter, turning back to your reflection. Your fingers work the toner into your skin and for a moment, the only sound is the music and the storm outside.

Jisung breaks the silence with a sudden, almost-too-loud, “Hey, you missed a spot.”

You whip around, narrowing your eyes at him. “Where?”

He points vaguely at your cheek, an innocent expression on his face. “Right there. No, wait, there. Actually, fuck, you should probably just start over.”

“Fuck you,” you say with no real venom, throwing the used cotton pad at his head. It lands on Zak instead, who sniffs at it curiously before deciding it’s not worth the effort.

“Rude,” Jisung says, grinning as he picks the pad off Zak’s back and tosses it onto the floor. “I’m trying to help here.”

“Your version of help is being a fucking asshole,” you retort, grabbing your serum. The glass bottle feels cool and solid in your hand, grounding you as you pat the liquid onto your cheeks.

Jisung watches you, his head tilted to one side like he’s trying to figure something out. “You know,” he says slowly, “I don’t get why you bother covering up all your freckles. They’re hot as fuck.”

You freeze mid-pat, blinking at him. “What?”

“Your freckles,” he repeats, propping himself up higher on the bed. Zak takes the opportunity to try and lick his face again, but Jisung dodges him expertly. “They’re like, I don’t know, constellations or some shit. Fucking unreal.”

A flush creeps up your neck, but you force yourself to keep working the serum into your skin. “You’re so fucking corny,” you mutter, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Corny but right,” he shoots back, leaning down to kiss Zak’s head. The puppy wriggles happily, thumping his tail against Jisung’s thigh. “You’re like a walking fucking galaxy. It’s nuts.”

You groan, finally turning to face him. “Can you go one fucking minute without saying something completely ridiculous?”

“Nope,” he says easily, grinning at you. “It’s part of my charm.”

Zak barks, cutting through the moment like a knife, and you glance at him with a soft laugh. “Poor baby’s scared of the storm.”

“Scared?” Jisung scoffs, pulling Zak closer. “Nah, he’s just dramatic as fuck. Like me.”

“God help us,” you say under your breath as Jisung manages to get Zak to sit still in his lap for longer than two seconds.

“Victory,” Jisung says smugly, pressing a triumphant kiss to your temple. “Told you I’m the alpha.”

Jisung tilts his head back against the wall, his silver hair sticking up in wild, unkempt tufts. His eyes are half-lidded, following your every move as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. Zak has finally settled on the bed beside him, chewing on one of Jisung’s socks with the kind of ferocity only a puppy can muster.

“We could pawn Zak off on Chan,” Jisung says suddenly, his voice cutting through the storm’s din. The teasing edge in his tone is unmistakable. “Or better yet, Minho. That fucker loves this little gremlin.”

You glance at him through the streaked mirror, your eyebrow arching. “Yeah, and why the fuck would we send my dog to Minho, of all people?”

“So we could Netflix and chill,” Jisung replies, his smirk spreading wide as he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “I mean, as long as I don’t nut, it’s still fair game.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head as you reach for your moisturizer. “Because that worked out so fucking well last time, right? Minho was banging on the wall the whole fucking time.”

Jisung groans, dragging his hand down his face. “That cunt needs to get over himself. Like he doesn’t fuck loudly. I heard him and some Kappa Tau girl last week, and I’m still traumatized.”

You snort, trying not to laugh too hard as you dab cream onto your cheeks. “You know Minho would bury you alive for saying that.”

“Yeah, well, he can suck my dick until- Wait, no, he can’t.” Jisung pauses, the realization hitting mid-sentence. “Fuck. No Nut November is ruining my comebacks.”

You roll your eyes, biting back another laugh. “Tragic.”

Jisung grins, clearly refusing to let the moment go. “Fine, if Netflix is too risky, what about Disney Plus and eating puss?”

The words hit like a record scratch, and you freeze mid-pat, staring at him. “You’re such a fucking idiot.”

“I’m an innovator,” he counters smugly. “Amazon Prime and sexy time? HBO Max and relax? Babe, I can do this all night.”

“You’re going to make me lose brain cells,” you mutter, turning back to the mirror and smearing moisturizer across your face with more force than necessary.

“Please, you love it,” Jisung says, practically purring. “You love how fucking clever I am.”

“Clever, my ass,” you retort. “You’re a walking shitpost with a good jawline.”

“And you’re the love of my life,” he shoots back smoothly. “Funny how that works.”

Before you can answer, a muffled voice echoes through the wall. “I swear to God, if you fuckers start again, I’m torching this house.”

You blink, startled, and Jisung immediately shouts back. “Shut up, Minho! No one asked for your fucking input!”

“Oh, I’m giving it anyway!” Minho yells. “Every time you so much as think about touching her, I hear it. The moaning, the spanking. Do you have any idea how thin these walls are?”

Jisung looks genuinely scandalized. “Spanking? You’re imagining shit now, man.”

“Oh, I’m imagining?!” Minho fires back. “You’re the one who kept me up until two in the fucking morning last week with your unholy fucking racket!”

“You’re just jealous I’m getting laid and you’re stuck cuddling your cats!” Jisung shouts, his voice dripping with smugness.

“Jealous? Of you? You couldn’t make me jealous if you paid me!” The venom in Minho’s tone is undercut by the sound of Zak barking, his tail thumping wildly against the bed.

Jisung turns to Zak, gesturing wildly. “See? Even the dog agrees you’re full of shit!”

Zak barks again, clearly thinking this is all one big game, and Jisung grins triumphantly. “That’s two against one, Minho!”

There’s silence for a beat, and then Minho’s door slams open. A moment later, he’s standing in Jisung’s doorway, his hair a mess, his face twisted into a mix of annoyance and exhaustion. Zak immediately perks up, tail wagging so hard it’s practically a weapon.

“Fucking hell, I should’ve known better than to try reasoning with you,” Minho says, stalking into the room. “You’re like a fucking feral raccoon in human form.”

“Nice to see you too, asshole,” Jisung says brightly, clearly unfazed. “What’s up?”

“What’s up? I’m about to beat the shit out of you, that’s what’s up,” Minho snaps, lunging for the bed. Zak jumps out of the way just in time as Minho tackles Jisung, both of them hitting the floor in a chaotic mess of limbs and curses.

“Minho, you fucking dick!” Jisung yells, laughing despite himself as Minho gets him in a loose headlock. “You’re gonna fucking kill me!”

“Good!” Minho barks, tightening his grip. “I’ll finally get some fucking sleep!”

Zak bounces around them, barking excitedly, his tail a blur of motion. You sit back in your chair, watching the chaos unfold with a look of mild amusement. “You know, sometimes I think you two are secretly dating,” you comment, winding another strand of hair into a roller.

Minho pauses mid-shove, looking up at you with wide eyes. “Wow, she knows. Guess we’re out now.”

“Busted,” Jisung wheezes from under him. “Sorry you had to find out this way, babe.”

You hum, leaning forward to inspect your reflection. “Makes sense. The sexual tension’s been unbearable for months.”

“Fuck off,” Minho grumbles, finally releasing Jisung and flopping onto his back. Zak takes the opportunity to pounce on him, licking his face like his life depends on it.

Jisung sits up, rubbing his neck with a wince. “Minho, since you’re already here, wanna take Zak for the night?”

“Fuck no,” Minho says immediately as he scratches behind Zak's ears. “But thanks for asking.”

“Coward,” Jisung mutters, collapsing back onto the bed beside you. He looks up at you with that familiar mischievous grin, his eyes sparkling with trouble. “So… Disney Plus and eating puss?”

You throw a hair roller at his head.

The dim kitchen glows faintly under the yellow overhead light, the kind of low, uneven light that makes everything feel softer, less real. The storm outside has eased into a gentle drizzle, the sound of rain on the windows rhythmic and soothing.

You’re leaning against the counter, cradling a mug of tea that’s still too hot to drink, your fingers playing idly with the spoon inside it. The hum of the electric kettle lingers in the background, filling the quiet with something steady.

Jisung’s hoodie swallows you, the oversized fabric brushing your thighs, the sleeves pooled around your wrists. The faint smell of him lingers in the material, making you feel cocooned despite the chill of the kitchen tiles against your fuzzy-socked feet.

It’s stupidly late, probably close to three in the morning, but the house is finally quiet, and you needed this. The calm, the tea, the moment to yourself.

The creak of the old floorboards makes you glance over your shoulder. Minho materializes in the doorway, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand, looking half-asleep but still somehow put together in that effortless way that pisses you off.

His red hair sticks up in chaotic tufts, like he’s been wrestling with a pillow all night, and his sweatpants hang low on his hips, barely clinging there. He squints at you, his lips tugging into a crooked smirk.

“Holy shit,” he says, voice scratchy with sleep. “A fucking cryptid in her natural habitat.”

You roll your eyes, turning back to your tea. “Fuck off, Minho.”

“No, really,” he continues, stepping fully into the kitchen, his bare feet soundless on the tile. “I didn’t think anyone else was dumb enough to be awake at this hour, but here you fucking are. What’re you doing? Summoning demons? Making moon water?”

“Drinking tea,” you reply dryly, taking a careful sip. The liquid is still scalding, but you let the heat settle on your tongue, the warmth a small comfort.

“Tea,” Minho echoes, leaning against the counter next to you, his arms crossing loosely over his chest. “At three in the fucking morning. What are you, eighty?”

You give him a flat look. “You’re awake, too, asshole.”

“Yeah, because I’m plotting my victory,” he says, his smirk sharpening into something cocky. “Speaking of, you’re just the person I need.”

“Lucky me,” you deadpan, setting your mug down with a soft clink. “What’s it this time? Another fucking prank? Did you break something and need me to lie for you?”

Minho scoffs, waving a hand. “Please, I don’t need you to cover for me. I’ve never been caught in my life.”

You snort. “Right. I’m sure all those broken lamps were ‘ghosts.’”

“Exactly,” he says without missing a beat. Then his tone shifts, conspiratorial, as he leans closer. “But this? This is bigger. I need your help to make sure Jisung loses No Nut November.”

You blink at him, caught off guard. “That’s what this is about?”

“Duh,” Minho replies, grinning. “You’ve got insider access. You’re practically a double agent. Think of the chaos we could cause.”

You arch a brow at him, unimpressed. “And why the fuck would I help you?”

“Because,” he says smoothly, his grin widening, “I’ll split the winnings with you. Four hundred bucks for each of us. Think about it. Easy money.”

“Easy money?” you echo, narrowing your eyes. “This feels like a setup.”

Minho presses a hand to his chest, looking mock-offended. “You wound me, Y/N. I don’t need to scam you. I’m just here for the bragging rights.”

“Sure you are,” you say, picking up your tea again. “And what if Jisung finds out I’m helping you? You know he’s never gonna shut up about it.”

Minho shrugs, unbothered. “Let him whine. He’s already lost. You just have to speed up the inevitable.”

You take a long sip, letting the warmth of the tea settle in your chest. Minho watches you carefully, his red hair catching the dim light in uneven strands, his eyes gleaming with mischief. He’s serious, dead serious, but there’s that usual layer of smugness that makes you want to slap him and laugh at the same time.

“Fine,” you say finally, lowering your mug. “But if this backfires, you’re fucking dead.”

“Deal,” Minho says immediately, sticking out his hand. When you don’t take it, he drops it with a shrug. “You won’t regret this. Four hundred bucks and bragging rights. It’s a win-win.”

“You’re a pain in the ass,” you mutter, shaking your head.

“And yet,” Minho counters, grinning like the cat that caught the fucking canary, “you always come through for me. Don’t act like you don’t love it.”

You groan, turning away from him to grab a tea bag from the box. “I’m starting to regret this already.”

“No, you’re not,” he says confidently, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl. He crunches into it loudly, leaning casually against the counter as if he owns the place. “This is why you’re my favourite.”

“Fuck off, Minho,” you say again, but this time you’re smiling.

He winks at you, already backing out of the kitchen. “Remember, Y/N. Four hundred bucks. Don’t let me down.”

“Go to bed, you shithead,” you call after him, laughing softly as he disappears into the dark hallway.

The sound of his retreating footsteps fades, and you’re left alone in the quiet kitchen. The tea in your mug is cooling now, the faint hum of the kettle gone, replaced by the soft patter of rain on the windows. You shake your head to yourself, a small laugh escaping your lips.

You take another sip of tea, savouring the warmth, and let yourself imagine the absolute fucking disaster the next few weeks are bound to be.

Jisung slams his car door with more force than necessary, muttering a string of curses as his bag slides off his shoulder and hits the damp ground. “Fucking perfect,” he huffs, yanking it back up and trudging toward the Alpha Phi house.

The air is crisp, the remnants of last night’s storm lingering in the wet asphalt and the occasional dripping from the gutters. He doesn’t care. His head is pounding, his brain fried from a brutal day of back-to-back lectures, and the reminder email about his project deadline still burns in his inbox, taunting him.

Punching in the house code feels like an Olympic event, and the beep of the lock barely registers as he shoves the door open. Inside, chaos greets him like an old friend. Voices echo from the living room. Loud, competitive, definitely a FIFA match. Someone yells, “Fucking cheater!” and a loud thud follows. Jisung sighs, shaking his head as he drags himself toward the stairs.

“Home sweet fucking home,” he mutters under his breath, gripping the banister as he hauls himself up. His legs feel like lead, and all he wants is to collapse in his bed and sleep until finals are over or until the world ends, whichever comes first.

He reaches his room, pushing the door open, already yanking his sweatshirt over his head. The fabric catches on his silver hair, making it stick up even worse than usual, but he doesn’t care. He tosses it somewhere near his desk and looks up and freezes like a deer in headlights.

You’re on his bed, lying on your side, fast asleep. Your red lace-trimmed nightgown clings to your body like a second skin, the soft material pooling around your thighs. The thin straps barely sit on your shoulders, one having slipped down to reveal more skin than Jisung can handle looking at right now.

The dim light from his bedside lamp bathes you in a warm glow, catching on the curve of your collarbone, the dip of your waist, the soft rise and fall of your chest as you breathe.

“Fuck me,” he whispers, his voice barely audible over the sound of his heartbeat hammering in his ears.

Zak snores softly from his dog bed in the corner, blissfully unaware of Jisung’s internal crisis. The puppy’s legs twitch in his sleep, chasing whatever dream dogs have, and for a moment, Jisung envies the little shit. At least Zak doesn’t have to deal with the torture of you existing like this, looking like every wet dream Jisung’s ever had.

He closes the door as quietly as he can, leaning against it for support as his knees threaten to give out. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “Okay, okay, get it together. You’re a grown-ass man. You’ve seen her in this before. It’s not a big fucking deal.”

But it is a big fucking deal, because it’s day eight of No Nut November, and his brain is turning to soup at the sight of you. He swallows hard, dragging his eyes away from you and staring at the ceiling instead.

“Feet,” he says to himself, trying to drown out the heat crawling up his neck. “Dirty, gross feet. Toenail fungus. Yeah. That’s disgusting. Uh… Chan’s sweaty gym towel. That’s nasty, right?”

The corner of his eye betrays him. He glances back at you, and it’s a fucking mistake. You shift slightly, your leg stretching out just enough for the lace trim of your nightgown to ride higher on your thigh. His mouth goes dry, and he bites his lip, hard enough to hurt.

“Why the fuck are you doing this to me, jagiya?” he whispers, dragging a hand down his face. “This is cruelty. Actual fucking cruelty.”

He starts pacing, his socked feet barely making a sound on the worn carpet. “Minho’s fucking smug face. Yeah, that’s gross. Him winning and rubbing it in my face forever. Fuck that guy. He’s not winning. I’m not losing to him. No fucking way.”

Zak shifts in his sleep, snorting softly, and Jisung glares at him like the puppy is in on the conspiracy. “Oh, sure, you get to sleep through this shit,” he mutters. “Meanwhile, I’m fighting for my goddamn life.”

His eyes flick back to you, again, because apparently, he’s a fucking masochist, and his pacing halts. The soft, steady rise and fall of your chest, the way your hair spills over his pillow like a halo, the gentle pout of your lips as you sleep. It’s too much. His heart pounds in his chest like a drum, and his jeans are officially too fucking tight.

“Fuck, no, no,” he mutters, resuming his pacing. “Chan’s unwashed jockstrap. Disgusting. So gross. Sweaty gym socks. That’s worse. Uh… Minho farting in his sleep. Fucking nightmare fuel.”

But nothing works. His mind keeps circling back to you, to the way you look so effortlessly perfect, so completely at ease in his bed. It’s infuriating. It’s torture. It’s everything he wants but can’t have, not for another twenty-two fucking days.

He collapses into his desk chair, spinning it away from the bed as if not looking at you will somehow solve his problem. Grabbing a pen, he starts scribbling nonsense on a blank page of his notebook, anything to keep his hands busy. “I’m an idiot. A horny fucking idiot.”

The sound of your soft breathing drifts to his ears again, and he freezes. Slowly, he turns his head, just in time to see you stretch slightly, the hem of your nightgown riding even higher. His grip on the pen tightens, his knuckles turning white.

“I’m fucked,” he whispers, burying his face in his hands. “I’m so fucking fucked.”

And it’s only day eight.

It’s day eleven, and Jisung is hanging on by a fucking thread.

He’s at his desk, headphones on, his laptop open to a blank Google Doc labeled Final Project. The blinking cursor taunts him, mocking his inability to focus, but it’s not the assignment that’s frying his brain.

It’s you. Lying there on his bed like some goddess of temptation, draped in black lace and blissful fucking ignorance, or, more likely, deliberate fucking malice. Jisung isn’t sure which one he prefers.

You’re sprawled on your stomach, completely absorbed in a paperback, the cover bent at the spine from the way you’re gripping it. Your legs kick lazily behind you, bare feet flexing as you shift every so often, and the lace hot pants you’re wearing are clinging to your ass in a way that should be criminal. The matching bralette doesn’t help either, thin straps digging into your shoulders, highlighting the line of your collarbone, the delicate curves of your body.

Jisung steals another glance, his eleventh in two minutes, and swears under his breath, dragging his eyes back to his screen. He adjusts his chair, angling it slightly away from the bed in a vain attempt to save himself. But you’re still in his peripheral vision, all soft curves and casual perfection, and it’s like trying to ignore the sun.

Focus. Journalism. Deadlines. Anything but her fucking legs.

“So,” he says finally, clearing his throat in a desperate bid to distract himself. His voice comes out embarrassingly hoarse. “What’s the book about?”

Without looking up, you flip a page and reply nonchalantly, “This girl who goes to a BDSM club and meets a Dom. He’s training her to be a submissive. Felix said I’d like it.”

Jisung chokes on absolutely nothing, coughing as his brain short-circuits. He rubs the back of his neck, heat creeping up the collar of his hoodie. “Cool. Cool, cool, cool. Sounds, uh, educational.”

“It is,” you say, completely fucking unfazed as you turn another page. “Right now, they’re practising shibari.”

Jisung presses his palm against his crotch on instinct, trying to will his dick into submission. The word conjures up all the wrong memories, your wrists tied to the headboard with his belt, the soft ropes he’d run down your thighs one night while you begged him to do more. The image is so vivid it feels like he’s there, the sounds of your breathy moans echoing in his head.

“Great!” he blurts out, his voice cracking like a teenager’s. “Love that for them. Very… artistic. Super… cultural.”

You hum in agreement, your tone casual, but there’s something in the faint tilt of your lips, like you know exactly what you’re doing to him. Jisung’s grip tightens on his desk, his knuckles whitening as he fights the urge to look at you again.

“You okay over there?” you ask suddenly, your voice cutting through the silence like a fucking knife. When he looks up, you’re watching him, your gaze sharp and amused, the barest hint of a smirk curling your lips.

“Me?” he squeaks. He clears his throat, forcing a weak laugh as he spins his chair to hide his crotch from view. “Totally fine. Just, uh, thinking about deadlines. Journalism stuff. You know, very serious, not at all horny things.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, clearly not buying a word of it. You shake your head slightly, returning to your book with that same faint smirk that’s driving him out of his goddamn mind.

Jisung stares at his screen, forcing his eyes to stay there, but it’s a losing battle. Every movement you make, the way your legs shift just enough to reveal more of your thighs, the way your back arches slightly when you adjust your position, it’s fucking torture. He can feel the sweat on his palms, the heat prickling at the back of his neck, and he swears if he doesn’t leave now, he’s going to lose the bet, the pot, and his fucking dignity.

“I, uh, need water,” he says abruptly, standing so quickly his chair scrapes loudly against the floor. He bolts for the door, practically slamming it behind him, leaning back against it once he’s in the hallway.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face. His heartbeat thunders in his ears, his body still on fire from the last ten minutes of torture.

“Jisung?” Your voice drifts faintly through the door, muffled but still teasing. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Totally fine!” he calls back, voice cracking again as he presses his hands to his overheated cheeks. “Just dehydrated! Gonna go hydrate!”

Your soft laugh floats through the wood, and he groans, pushing himself off the door to head for the kitchen. He needs water. Ice-cold water. And maybe an exorcism.

“Just nineteen fucking days,” he mutters to himself as he stalks down the hall. “You’ve got this. Don’t let her win. Don’t let her fucking win.”

But even as he reaches the sink, splashing cold water onto his face, the image of you sprawled across his bed, all lace and legs, refuses to leave his mind.

Nineteen days has never felt so fucking impossible.

The Alpha Phi house is eerily quiet as you pad downstairs, the faint creak of the stairs barely audible under the soft padding of your Winnie the Pooh slippers. The chill of the hardwood seeps through even their plush cushioning, but you ignore it, tugging the hem of your midnight blue nightgown down slightly. Not that it does much, the lace clings to your body like a second skin, the thigh-high slits swaying with every step. The cold doesn’t matter; the promise of tea and a few stolen moments of peace is worth it.

When you push open the kitchen door, the faint yellow light from the stove reveals a figure already waiting there. Minho leans casually against the counter, arms crossed, his red hair sticking up like he lost a fight with his pillow and didn’t bother fixing it.

He’s wearing grey sweatpants slung low on his hips and a black hoodie, but the smirk plastered across his face gives him an aura of smug authority like he’s a villain in some low-budget spy film.

“Took you long enough,” he drawls, his voice soft but laced with amusement. “Thought you’d chickened out.”

You arch an eyebrow, stepping past him to the counter where the kettle waits. “What the fuck are you talking about? You’ve been lurking in the dark like some kind of horror movie villain.”

“Not lurking,” Minho corrects, pushing off the counter to sit on one of the stools at the island. “Strategizing. This is serious business.”

You fill the kettle with water, side-eyeing him. “Serious business? Are you starting a Ponzi scheme?”

“No,” he says, grinning. “Something better. Day eleven, Y/N. Four down, three more to go.”

You pause mid-pour, glancing over your shoulder. “Four? Already?”

“Changbin folded on day six. Hyunjin broke yesterday. Seungmin cracked this morning, and Jeongin, poor kid, lasted, like, ten seconds after that. Felix is next. I’ve been fucking with his algorithm so all he gets is porn ads. MILFs. Stepsisters. The works.” His grin widens, downright evil. “It’s only a matter of time.”

You laugh, flicking the kettle on and leaning against the counter. “You’re a menace. He’s gonna kill you.”

“Worth it,” Minho says smugly. “And Chan? He’s going down tonight.”

That catches your attention. Your eyebrows shoot up, and you cross your arms. “Chan? No fucking way. He’s supposed to be untouchable.”

Minho shrugs, looking far too pleased with himself. “What can I say? I called in a favour. His girlfriend’s helping me out. Dude’s toast.”

The kettle starts to hum, and you grab a mug, already smirking. “You’re like a goddamn Bond villain. What’s next? A cat and a monologue?”

Minho grins, resting his chin in his hand. “I’m saving the monologue for Jisung. He’s gonna break soon, thanks to you.”

You snort, grabbing a tea bag and dropping it into your mug. “He’s tougher than you think. I’ve been subtle, but he’s holding up.”

Minho’s smirk deepens. “Subtle, huh? That what you call lying in his bed reading BDSM erotica?”

Your lips twitch as you pour the boiling water into your mug. “Research,” you say, deadpan. “I’m helping him broaden his horizons.”

“Sure you are,” Minho drawls, drumming his fingers on the counter. “What’s the next phase of your master plan? Flashing him in Morse code?”

You sip your tea, the warmth soothing against the chill of the room, and pull your phone out of your pocket. “Red lace lingerie,” you say casually, scrolling to the photo of the set you ordered. You slide the phone across the counter to him.

Minho picks it up, and his eyes widen. “Holy fuck.” He slaps the counter, grinning like a maniac. “Crotchless panties? You’re a fucking genius.”

“And lollipops,” you add, sipping your tea. “The good ones, cherry and strawberry"

Minho barks out a laugh, standing abruptly and pulling you into a tight hug. “Y/N, you magnificent, evil, sexy mastermind. I love you.”

You laugh against his shoulder, half-heartedly patting his back. “Okay, calm the fuck down. You’re gonna dislocate something.”

“I can’t help it,” he says, pulling back and holding your shoulders dramatically. “You’re the best. I don’t deserve you.”

“You definitely don’t,” you agree, smirking. “But don’t celebrate yet. He’s stubborn.”

Minho’s grin sharpens, his eyes glinting with mischief. “He’s a man. And all men fall eventually.”

“You sound like a poster for villainy,” you mutter, grabbing your mug and heading for the door.

“Thank you,” Minho calls after you, following close behind. “It’s my life’s work.”

As you both step into the darkened hallway, the quiet hum of the house around you, there’s a shared gleam of determination in your eyes. Jisung’s resolve is strong, sure. But between you and Minho? That resolve is doomed.

Day fifteen of No Nut November feels like a cruel joke, and Jisung is living it. He trudges into the Alpha Phi house, his bag slung haphazardly over one shoulder, the faint drone of an investigative journalism podcast still playing in one ear.

He tugs out the earbuds as the warmth of the house envelopes him, the smell of takeout lingering faintly in the air. His stomach growls loudly, and he follows the sound of voices toward the kitchen, praying there’s something left in the fridge.

As he steps into the kitchen, he freezes.

You’re leaning against the counter, legs crossed casually, wearing one of his hoodies that swallows you whole and a pair of shorts so tiny they might as well not exist. But it’s not the shorts that make his breath catch, it’s the goddamn lollipop in your hand.

Cherry red, glossy as fuck, it glistens under the dim light of the kitchen as you bring it to your lips. Your cheeks hollow as you suck on it, and the slow pull as you let it slide free makes his brain short-circuit. The wet sound it makes when it leaves your mouth feels louder than it should, and Jisung can feel his pulse pounding in his ears.

Across from you, Minho leans against the kitchen island, gesturing wildly as he speaks. His voice is animated, the sharp contrast to your calm, deliberate movements only adding to Jisung’s torment.

“I’m telling you, Anthony’s arc in season two is what every rom-com wishes it could be,” Minho says, slicing through the air with one hand for emphasis. “The tension. The angst. The man is a fucking masterpiece of repressed emotions.”

You nod, twirling the lollipop between your fingers like it’s a goddamn performance art piece. “True, but Kate? She’s everything. The way she completely dismantles him? Perfect.”

Minho claps his hands together, pointing at you. “Exactly! She’s not just a love interest, she’s a fucking force of nature.”

“And Bridgerton’s not even my thing,” you add, rolling the lollipop over your tongue like you’re savouring every second. “But that season? Art.”

Jisung swallows hard, his throat dry as sandpaper. He forces himself to move, heading toward the fridge like it’s his only lifeline, but every movement you make draws his eyes back to you. The way your lips purse, the subtle pop as the candy leaves your mouth, the faint glint of red on your tongue. It’s a sensory fucking overload.

“Jagiya,” he says, his voice rough, barely masking the tension simmering under the surface. “What’s going on in here?”

You glance up, all wide eyes and faux innocence, like you’re not killing him one suck at a time. “Just talking Bridgerton. Minho finally convinced me to binge it with him.”

“Changed her life,” Minho adds with an exaggerated nod. “Changed mine, too, honestly. You’ve gotta watch it, man.”

Jisung barely registers the words as he yanks open the fridge, desperate for a distraction. “Uh-huh,” he mutters, rummaging aimlessly. “I’ll… check it out.”

Before he can decide between the last sad slice of pizza and some questionable-looking noodles, chaos erupts from the living room.

“Zak’s got my fucking shoe!” Jeongin’s panicked voice echoes down the hall, followed by the unmistakable sound of paws skidding on hardwood and a low, playful growl.

“Shit,” Jisung curses, slamming the fridge shut and dropping his bag. “Not again.” He turns on his heel, bolting out of the kitchen. “Zak! No! Drop it, you little shit!”

As his shouts fade into the distance, you and Minho exchange a look, your lips twitching as you try to hold back your laughter. The moment the front door slams shut, Minho breaks first, his grin splitting wide.

“This is too fucking good,” he says, holding out a hand. You slap your palm against his in a victorious high-five.

“Too easy,” you agree, popping the lollipop back into your mouth with a slow swirl. “Fifteen days in, and the guy’s fucking unravelling.”

“Crotchless panties, lollipops, and Bridgerton,” Minho muses, shaking his head in admiration. “You’re a fucking evil genius.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” you say, smirking as you lean back against the counter.

Minho leans closer, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “You really think he’s gonna make it another fifteen days?”

“Not a fucking chance,” you reply with a laugh. “He’s hanging on by a thread.”

From down the hall, Jisung’s voice booms. “Zak! Get back here, you little asshole! Jeongin, fucking grab him!”

You and Minho dissolve into laughter, the sound filling the kitchen as you both lean against the counter, barely able to breathe. Zak’s playful barks and Jeongin’s exasperated shouts add to the cacophony, and you shake your head, already plotting the next step in the slow, delicious dismantling of Han Jisung’s self-control.

Minho grins, lifting an imaginary glass. “To the fall of Han Jisung. May it be dramatic and horny as fuck.”

You clink your lollipop against his raised hand like it’s a toast, laughing as the chaos continues in the background.

Day eighteen, and Jisung feels like he’s at war. With himself, with his body, with you. Especially you.

He sits at his desk, staring at the screen of his laptop, the cursor blinking accusingly at him from an unfinished article. The words on the page blur together, his focus long since obliterated by weeks of tension, frustration, and sheer stubborn determination to see this thing through. His head rests in his hands, fingers tugging at his silver hair as he groans softly.

The sound of running water from the bathroom shuts off, and a few seconds later, your voice carries through the partially open door. Soft, teasing, fucking lethal. “Jisung? Can you come here for a sec?”

His stomach tightens at the sound of your voice. He lifts his head slowly, blinking blearily at the bathroom door like it might bite him. “Yeah, jagiya,” he calls back, his voice hoarse from lack of sleep and too much fantasizing. “What’s up?”

There’s a brief pause before you respond, your tone light but with that playful edge that makes his nerves fray. “Do I look okay in this?”

His chest tightens as alarm bells go off in his head. “What the fuck does she mean by this?” He swivels in his chair just as the bathroom door swings open, and his breath hitches violently in his throat.

You step into the room like a goddamn vision, leaning lazily against the doorframe, the silk of your red robe gleaming in the soft light. It’s barely tied, just loose enough to offer a maddening glimpse of what lies beneath. Red lace lingerie. The sheer fabric clings to you, teasing every curve, and it leaves almost nothing to the imagination. Almost.

But it’s not just the outfit. It’s the way you look at him, head tilted slightly, a small, knowing smile curling your lips. Like you’re perfectly aware of the chaos you’re causing. Like you’re daring him to do something about it.

“Fuck,” Jisung mutters under his breath, the word barely audible. His throat is so dry it feels like sandpaper, and his eyes flicker helplessly between your face and the barely-there lace. “Are those… Are those panties crotchless?”

You tilt your head, your smile widening, and his stomach clenches painfully. “Yep,” you say simply, popping the p like it’s a punchline.

He drags a hand down his face, groaning. “Jesus fucking Christ, jagiya.” His voice is strained, low, his usual wit nowhere to be found. “You’re fucking killing me.”

“Am I?” you reply, feigning innocence as your fingers brush the tie of the robe. You loosen it slightly, the silk parting just enough to make his dick throb painfully against the confines of his jeans. “You look a little tense.”

“Tense?” Jisung barks out a sharp laugh, but it sounds more like a gasp. “I’m fucking dying over here.”

You take a step closer, your bare feet making no sound on the floor. His chair creaks slightly as he leans back, as if putting more distance between you will save him. It doesn’t. “Remember,” you murmur, trailing a hand down the edge of your robe, “there are only twenty-nine days in November.”

He stares at you, his eyes wide, his jaw tight. “Eleven days,” he whispers, the words shaky. He nods, more to himself than to you, as if it’s a mantra. “Just eleven days left.”

“Only eleven,” you say sweetly, stepping close enough that he can smell the faint, intoxicating trace of your perfume.

You reach out, your fingers brushing his cheek lightly before you step past him like it’s nothing. He watches, completely frozen, as you walk to his bed, the silk of your robe swaying with each step, offering him maddening glimpses of lace and bare skin.

You climb onto the bed, tugging the blankets up around you like the fucking angel of temptation, and settle in with a soft sigh. Adjusting your eye mask, you mumble, “Goodnight, Ji,” like you didn’t just turn his entire world inside out.

Zak pads over from the corner, circling in his dog bed before flopping down with a contented snuffle. The room falls quiet again, save for the faint hum of the heater and the sound of your breathing, steady and soft.

Jisung doesn’t move. He stays rooted to the spot, staring at you as if you might disappear if he looks away. His chest heaves, his palms sweaty against the armrests of his chair. His jeans are too fucking tight, and his head feels like it’s filled with static.

“Twenty-nine days,” he mutters to himself, still staring at the bed. “I just have to make it eleven more days”

The words hang in the air, unchallenged, as he finally drags himself out of the chair and collapses face-first onto the bed next to you. His brain is too fried to catch the glaring error in his thoughts. November has thirty days.

It’s midnight on day twenty-one, and the Alpha Phi house is cloaked in stillness. The creaks and groans of the old floorboards echo faintly through the empty halls, a reminder of just how old and lived-in the building is. Upstairs, Jisung lies face down on his bed, the thin black eye mask he’s taken to wearing crooked over his face. His breaths are deep, steady, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest the only movement in the room.

But even in sleep, his body is tense, his hands clutching the edge of his blanket like a lifeline. His subconscious knows, just as his waking mind does, that you are his undoing. One slip, one more calculated move on your part, and he’s fucked. Literally and figuratively.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, the atmosphere couldn’t be more different. The quiet hum of the heater mingles with the soft clink of mugs and the occasional burst of muffled laughter. You and Minho are stationed near the counter, shoulders nearly brushing as you conspire under the faint yellow light of the stove. You’re wearing one of Jisung’s hoodies, the oversized fabric hanging off one shoulder, and a pair of fuzzy socks. Casual, innocent. Except the glint in your eye betrays you.

Minho leans against the counter, his red hair dishevelled in a way that’s more chaotic than usual, his expression half-amused, half-exasperated. He stares into his mug like it holds the answer to life’s greatest mysteries. “Why the fuck isn’t he out yet?” he mutters, his voice pitched low but tinged with frustration. “It’s day twenty-one, for fuck’s sake. I’ve seen weaker men fold over less.”

You smirk, swirling the tea in your mug before taking a slow, deliberate sip. “Because,” you say with a calmness that only fuels Minho’s disbelief, “I made him think there are only twenty-nine days in November.”

Minho’s head jerks up, his brows furrowed as the words register. He stares at you like you’ve grown another head. “Wait, what?”

You tilt your head, your grin widening. “He thinks November has twenty-nine days. He’s counting down to the thirtieth like it’s December first.”

For a beat, Minho says nothing, his lips parting slightly as the full weight of your scheming hits him. Then, he lets out a low, incredulous laugh, doubling over and clutching the edge of the counter. “You’re a fucking psychopath,” he says, shaking his head. “A diabolical, evil little bitch. I love it.”

“Diabolical, sure. Evil? Maybe.” You shrug one shoulder, looking smug as you lean back against the counter. “But effective.”

Minho slaps his palm against the counter, laughter bubbling up again. “You’re telling me this poor bastard is going to count down to the thirtieth thinking he’s free, and instead he’s gonna…” He trails off, gesturing vaguely with his mug.

“Rail me into next week,” you finish for him, deadpan, the corners of your lips twitching. “Yep.”

Minho’s laughter explodes into the stillness, and he has to cover his mouth with his hand to stifle the sound. His shoulders shake as he struggles to catch his breath. “Holy fucking shit,” he wheezes, wiping at his mouth. “You’re a monster.”

“A monster who gets results,” you counter, raising your mug in a mock toast. “Jisung’s gonna lose. We're getting our money. You're getting bragging rights. I’m getting railed. Everyone wins.”

“Except Jisung,” Minho points out, grinning wickedly.

You wave a hand dismissively. “He’ll get over it. And by get over it, I mean he’ll be too busy thanking me for the best night of his life to care.”

Minho leans back against the counter, clutching his mug like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. “You’re fucking unreal,” he says, shaking his head. “We should get married. You, me, unstoppable force. Absolute chaos.”

You arch a brow, smirking. “The world would implode.”

“Worth it,” he shoots back without missing a beat. “We’d conquer everything. Political coups? Easy. Social manipulation? Please.”

“World domination?” you offer, tilting your mug toward him.

“To chaos,” Minho declares, his grin stretching wide.

“To schemes,” you reply, your voice laced with laughter.

The sound of your quiet chuckles mingles with the distant hum of the heater. Upstairs, Jisung shifts in his sleep, as if some part of him knows the forces conspiring against him. But for now, the house settles back into quiet. Only the faint glint of mischief in both your eyes hints at the storm still to come.

Jisung’s room is dark, save for the faint orange glow of the streetlight sneaking through the blinds, casting long, uneven shadows across the walls. The heater hums softly, and the faint tick-tock of the clock on the wall keeps a steady rhythm, mocking him with every passing second.

Jisung lies flat on his back, his body rigid, tension coiled tight as a spring. The black eye mask he usually relies on is shoved up onto his forehead, forgotten in his hyper-focused state. He stares at the glowing digits of his bedside clock, willing them to change, his chest heaving as he fights to keep himself still.

11:59 PM.

He mutters under his breath, his fists clenching the blanket like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. “Come on, come on,” he whispers, his voice rough.

His eyes flick to you. You’re lying beside him, curled on your side, your face soft and peaceful in sleep. One of his oversized T-shirts swallows your body, but the hem has ridden up just enough to reveal the curve of your thighs, and the sight makes his throat dry. He has to look away, his fingers twitching against the blanket.

12:00 AM.

Jisung’s entire body tenses. He feels it like a shift in the air like he’s been released from some invisible chain, and all he can think about is you. The past twenty-nine days flash in his mind like a slideshow: the lingerie, the teasing and the lollipops.

12:01 AM.

The dam breaks.

He moves faster than he’s thought about it, the blanket thrown off in one swift motion as he straddles you, pinning you beneath him with an almost feral energy. You let out a startled gasp, your eyes fluttering open as his hands wrap around your wrists, pressing them firmly above your head.

“Hands up,” he says, his voice rough, almost unrecognizable. His silver hair is messy, sticking up at odd angles, his chest heaving as he stares down at you. His eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide with desire, and his lips curl into a wicked smirk. “You’ve had your fun, jagiya. Now it’s my fucking turn.”

You blink up at him, your voice breathless and tinged with confusion. “Jisung? What—?”

“No talking,” he cuts you off, his voice a low rasp as he leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “It’s December. You’ve been fucking torturing me for four weeks, and I’ve waited long enough.”

Before you can say another word, his mouth finds your neck, hot and insistent, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. He bites down, harder than usual, making you gasp as heat floods your body. His tongue flicks out to soothe the sting, but he doesn’t stop. He trails down to your collarbone, nipping and sucking until your skin blooms with colour.

“Fuck, I missed this,” he murmurs against your skin, his hands sliding down to grip your hips. His fingers dig in, holding you in place as you instinctively arch beneath him. “Do you know how many nights I lay here, staring at you, trying not to lose my fucking mind?”

“Jisung-” you start, but the words dissolve into a sharp gasp as his teeth sink into the curve of your shoulder. His lips are relentless, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses and marks down your chest.

“You’re not allowed to talk. Not tonight, jagiya. Tonight, you’re mine.”

His hands roam beneath your shirt, sliding over your waist, his touch searing against your skin. The tension in his movements is almost frantic, a desperate edge to the way his fingers curl into your flesh. He lifts the hem of your shirt, his eyes flickering down to take in the soft curve of your stomach, the bare expanse of skin he’s been craving.

“You drove me fucking insane,” he mutters, his lips tracing along your jaw. “The lace. The lollipops.”

“Did I?”

Jisung freezes for a split second, his eyes narrowing as he pulls back to look at you. “Oh, you little fucking brat,” he says, his grip tightening on your wrists. “You’re lucky I love you. Otherwise, you’d be begging right now.”

“Big words,” you murmur, your voice laced with amusement. “You sure you’ve got the stamina after four weeks?”

His jaw tightens, and he smirks down at you, his expression dark and dangerous. “Oh, I’ve got plenty of stamina, jagiya. I’m just deciding how long I want to make you wait.”

His words send a thrill down your spine, but you manage to keep your composure, tilting your head to meet his gaze. “You better make it worth the wait, then.”

Jisung’s response is a low, guttural growl as he leans down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss so demanding it steals the air from your lungs. His hands release your wrists to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, deeper, until the world around you fades into nothing.

Across the room, Zak lets out a soft snore, blissfully unaware of the chaos unfolding just feet away.

And as Jisung pulls back to nip at your bottom lip, his voice rough with satisfaction, he mutters, “Twenty-nine days without sex. Never fucking again.”

You bite back a grin, your heart racing as he presses his forehead against yours, fumbling with the waistband of his sweats. He still doesn’t realize.

There’s one more day left.

The clock strikes three, the Alpha Phi house cloaked in a heavy silence, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the old wooden beams. The world outside is pitch-black, the kind of stillness that feels like a held breath.

Upstairs, in the aftermath of chaos, Jisung is dead to the world, sprawled across the bed like a man utterly wrecked. His silver hair sticks to his forehead, his skin glistening faintly in the dim light from the bedside lamp. The sheets are tangled around his legs, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm so steady it almost feels mocking.

You, however, are not wrecked. Not completely, anyway. No, you’re moving, albeit gingerly, your limbs protesting with every step.

The oversized T-shirt you’ve thrown on hangs loosely over your frame, brushing against the constellation of hickies blooming across your neck and collarbones. His boxers sit low on your hips, the waistband twisted from how carelessly you pulled them on. You wince as you descend the stairs, your thighs trembling just enough to remind you of what the past three hours have cost you.

The kitchen light is already on when you step inside, a soft, golden glow casting long shadows across the room. Minho is leaning against the counter, a mug in hand, his red hair an absolute disaster. He looks up when you enter, his expression shifting instantly into a wicked grin.

“You’re alive,” he greets, his voice low and gleeful. “Barely, but alive.”

“Fuck off,” you mutter, collapsing into a chair at the island. You let out a low groan, adjusting yourself with exaggerated care. The movement pulls another sharp wince from you, and Minho’s grin only widens.

“Oh, my God,” he says, his voice laced with mock horror as he gestures toward you with his mug. “You’re walking like a goddamn baby deer. Did he break you?”

You flip him off without looking, grabbing the steaming mug he slides toward you. “If I didn’t need this tea so badly, I’d throw it in your fucking face.”

Minho laughs, the sound sharp and unapologetic as he leans forward, inspecting you like a scientist examining a particularly amusing specimen. “You got absolutely mauled, didn’t you?” He gestures vaguely to your neck, his smirk bordering on obscene. “Holy shit. He really went for it.”

You sip your tea, the warmth soothing your raw throat as you scowl. “He thinks it’s December first. He acted like he just got out of a fucking chastity belt.”

“Well,” Minho says, straightening up with a shrug. “Technically, he did. Self-imposed, but still.” He pauses, tilting his head as his eyes scan the array of purpling marks dotting your skin. “You look like you got in a fight with a vampire and lost.”

You sigh dramatically, rolling your head back to stare at the ceiling. “He was…enthusiastic.”

Minho’s eyebrows shoot up. “Enthusiastic? You’re walking funny, for Christ’s sake. What’d he do? Hit you with a jackhammer?”

You snort into your tea, shaking your head. “Three hours. Three. Hours. I should’ve negotiated hazard pay.”

Minho lets out a bark of laughter, clapping his hand over his mouth to keep it down. His eyes sparkle with unrestrained delight as he leans across the counter. “And you let him go the whole time, knowing there’s still one more day left. You’re a fucking menace.”

You shrug, smirking into your mug. “It’s not like I didn’t enjoy myself.”

Minho groans, slumping against the counter like he’s personally offended. “You’re the worst person I know, and I love you for it.”

“You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it,” you shoot back, sticking your tongue out.

“True,” Minho admits, his grin sharp as ever. He raises his mug in a mock toast. “To chaos. And to you, the evil genius who turned No Nut November into a fucking art form.”

“To my poor vagina,” you mutter, clinking your mug against his.

“To your poor vagina,” he echoes solemnly, before breaking into laughter again. “But hey, at least we’re both four hundred dollars richer.”

“And he’s clueless,” you add, sipping your tea with a smirk. “He’s upstairs, probably dreaming about how he ‘won’ the month. Meanwhile, I’ve got a twenty-four-hour ticking time bomb.”

Minho shakes his head, his grin softening into something almost admiring. “You’re a fucking trooper. A lunatic, but a trooper.”

You groan as you adjust in your chair again, the ache in your thighs flaring up. “If I never move again, it’ll be too soon.”

“Hey, if he comes looking for round two, just scream for help,” Minho says, his tone half-serious. “I’ll grab a fire extinguisher.”

You laugh despite yourself, shaking your head. “If he comes looking for round two, I’m throwing you at him. You can fend him off.”

“Deal,” Minho says. “But only after I tell him he lost.”

The two of you share a conspiratorial grin, the quiet kitchen filled with the warmth of shared victory. Upstairs, Jisung snores softly, blissfully unaware of the truth lurking in the shadows. Down here, you and Minho toast to his downfall, savoring every second of the calm before the final storm.

Morning light spills through the Alpha Phi kitchen window, painting everything in soft, golden hues. The house is quiet, save for the faint ticking of the wall clock and the muffled hum of the refrigerator.

Jisung shuffles in, his T-shirt rumpled from sleep, his silver hair sticking out at odd angles like he’s been wrestling his pillow all night. Zak trots at his heels, his tail wagging lazily as he sniffs around before padding to the back door.

Jisung yawns loudly, scratching the back of his head as he unlatches the door and lets Zak out into the garden. “Go on, buddy,” he mutters, his voice heavy with sleep. “Do your thing.”

The puppy bounds into the yard, and Jisung shuts the door with a soft click, turning toward the coffee machine like it’s his lifeline. He grabs a mug from the cabinet, barely registering Minho leaning against the counter, his red hair dishevelled and his grin obnoxiously wide.

“Morning, champ,” Minho greets, his tone thick with smug amusement.

Jisung blinks at him, his expression blank as his sleep-fogged brain processes the sound. “Morning,” he mumbles back, spooning coffee grounds into the machine. He leans heavily against the counter, waiting for the drip to start, his eyes half-lidded as he stares at nothing in particular.

Minho sips from his mug, watching him with a glint of pure mischief in his eyes. “Rough night?” he asks innocently, swirling the tea in his cup like he’s plotting something.

Jisung snorts, a faint flush creeping up his neck. “You could say that. She’s still out cold.”

Minho lets out a low whistle, setting his mug down with exaggerated care. “Oh, I bet she is,” he says, his voice practically dripping with innuendo. “You two were loud as fuck last night. Thought the walls were gonna cave in.”

Jisung’s face reddens further, and he glares weakly at Minho. “Could you not? It’s too early for your bullshit.”

Minho grins wider, pulling out his phone. “Oh, don’t worry. This is gonna wake you up real quick.” He taps the screen a few times before holding it up, his smirk downright wicked. “Check it out.”

Jisung squints at the screen, his brow furrowing. The bold numbers on the display are unmistakable. 30th of November. He stares, his mind moving sluggishly as he tries to make sense of it.

“Wait,” he says, his voice slow, thick with confusion. “That can’t be right. There’s… twenty-nine days in November, right? Leap year or something?”

Minho freezes, his grin widening into something feral before he bursts out laughing. The sound is sharp and sudden, echoing through the quiet kitchen as he doubles over, clutching his stomach. “Oh my fucking god,” he wheezes, sliding halfway down the counter. “You’re serious? Holy shit- When she said- I thought-”

Jisung frowns, his confusion giving way to irritation. “Why the fuck are you laughing?” he demands, his voice tinged with suspicion. “What’s so funny?”

Minho wipes tears from his eyes, taking a steadying breath before straightening up. He sets his phone down, shaking his head in disbelief. “You, dumbass,” he says, his voice still shaking with laughter. “You got played so fucking hard.”

Jisung crosses his arms, his frown deepening. “Played?” His voice rises with incredulity. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Minho leans closer, his grin pure chaos. “Your girlfriend,” he says, drawing out the words like he’s savouring them. “She fucking got you. All those little outfits, all the teasing, all the bullshit about November having twenty-nine days? That was all her plan.”

Jisung stares at him, his jaw slack as the pieces slowly fall into place. “No way,” he mutters, shaking his head. “She wouldn’t-”

“Oh, she would,” Minho interrupts gleefully. “And she did. And the best part? It wasn’t even my idea, all I wanted was for her to make you lose. She came up with the whole thing herself. I just sat back and watched her turn you into a horny fucking wreck.”

Jisung’s jaw tightens, his face cycling through disbelief, frustration, and begrudging admiration. “So you’re telling me,” he says slowly, “that all those nights you two spent drinking tea in the kitchen were-”

“Exactly what you thought they were,” Minho says smugly. “Strategizing. She played you like a fucking fiddle.”

Jisung groans, dragging a hand down his face. “You two are the absolute worst.”

“Don’t lie,” Minho counters, smirking as he picks up his mug again. “You love it. Besides, you’re not even mad, are you? Not after last night.”

Jisung glares at him, though his ears burn red. “I should be pissed.”

“But you’re not,” Minho says, leaning back against the counter with a satisfied sigh. “Because you had a fucking night. Admit it—she wrecked you just as much as you wrecked her.”

Jisung shakes his head, a reluctant laugh escaping him. “I can’t believe she did all that for you.”

“For us,” Minho corrects, his grin softening slightly. “She got what she wanted, I got what I wanted, and you got the ride of your fucking life. Everyone’s happy.”

Jisung pours his coffee, stirring in sugar and cream, and takes a long sip before sighing. “You’re right. I’m not mad. I’m impressed.” He glances at Minho, his eyes narrowing. “But you’re still a smug little shit.”

Minho raises his mug in a toast, his grin sharper than ever. “To evil geniuses. And to Y/N, the queen of playing the long game.”

Jisung shakes his head, chuckling as he clinks his mug against Minho’s.

The Alpha Phi house is buzzing with noise and energy, the lazy chaos of a Saturday afternoon after a night of absolute madness. The living room is packed with bodies, sprawled across couches, beanbags, and the carpet, half-eaten takeout containers scattered across the coffee table alongside cans of beer and soda. Someone’s playlist hums softly in the background, but the real noise comes from the laughter and shit-talking ricocheting around the room.

Jisung sits slumped in a beanbag chair, arms crossed, his silver hair still sticking out at wild angles from sleep. He’s been subjected to nonstop teasing for the past few hours, and his pout grows deeper with every passing second. Zak is curled up at his feet, snoozing contentedly, oblivious to the chaos Jisung is enduring.

The sound of shuffling steps draws everyone’s attention to the staircase. You appear, dressed in one of Jisung’s oversized shirts that barely grazes your thighs, a pair of his boxers peeking out underneath. Your eye mask sits pushed up into your messy hair, and your trusty Winnie the Pooh slippers complete the look. Hickies bloom across your neck and collarbones, vivid and unapologetic, like badges of honour.

As soon as you step into the living room, the house explodes.

Whistles, applause, and cheers erupt from every corner of the room. Changbin pounds his fists against the couch arm like he’s at a sports game, while Felix claps loudly, grinning like he just saw the winning goal. Minho practically howls, throwing his head back with laughter, and Jeongin is doubled over, clutching his stomach.

“There she is!” Minho shouts, his grin devilish as he gestures toward you. “The queen of fucking chaos! The woman who broke Han Jisung and made him think there were twenty-nine days in November!”

Jisung groans loudly, burying his face in his hands. “You’re all the fucking worst,” he mutters, his voice muffled.

You yawn, rubbing at your eyes as you shuffle into the centre of the room. “Thank you, thank you,” you say. “I’d like to thank Jisung for not knowing how to use Google.”

Seungmin points at you, snickering. “Genius wasted on him,” he says, shaking his head. “Poor girl.”

“Hey!” Jisung protests, sitting up straighter in his beanbag chair. “You’re all supposed to be on my side.”

“No one’s on your side, dumbass,” Chan says. “You fucked up.”

You laugh softly, shuffling toward the kitchen, only for Chan to intercept you with a steaming mug of coffee. He hands it to you with a wink. “For our resident mastermind.”

“Bless you,” you murmur, taking the mug and sinking into the couch with a sigh. The warmth of the coffee soothes your raw throat, and you lean back into the cushions, your body finally beginning to relax.

Felix sprawls on the floor, his head propped up on a throw pillow. “Honestly? Totally worth it,” he says, grinning. “The three hours of sex noises were a lot, but watching Jisung implode this morning made up for it.”

Jisung points an accusing finger at him, his cheeks red. “You lost to porn ads! You don’t get to talk!”

Felix raises a brow, unbothered. “At least I know how many days are in November, dumbass.”

Minho cackles, leaning forward to slap his knee. “Felix, I’m the one who fucked with your algorithm. Those ‘hot MILFs in your area’ ads? All me.”

Felix’s jaw drops. “You’re a fucking menace.”

“You’re welcome,” Minho replies smugly. He turns his attention to Chan, smirking. “And you? Don’t act all superior. Your girlfriend took you out.”

Chan shrugs, completely unbothered. “She was wearing black lace. I'm just a man”

Minho dissolves into laughter, pulling a wad of cash from his pocket. He counts out four crisp hundred-dollar bills and tosses them into your lap. “Your cut, mastermind.”

You grin, holding up the money like a trophy. “I’d like to thank Jisung’s inability to resist crotchless panties for this award and his inability to read a calendar,” you announce, earning another round of cheers and whistles.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jisung mutters, sinking deeper into his beanbag chair. “You’re all fucking traitors.”

Changbin leans forward, squinting at the marks on your neck. “What the fuck did you do to her, man? She looks like she got in a fight with a vacuum cleaner.”

Jeongin reaches over, poking a particularly dark hickey on your collarbone. “Does it hurt?”

You swat his hand away, laughing. “Not as much as my legs.”

Jisung smirks, leaning back with a hint of smugness returning to his face. “What can I say? I’m thorough.”

Felix groans dramatically, snatching a cold compress from the coffee table and pressing it to your neck. “Jisung, she looks like she got mauled by a fucking tiger.”

“Nah,” Minho says, his grin sharp. “Just a man who thought he’d escaped No Nut November.”

Jisung glares at him but can’t stop the faint smile tugging at his lips. “I hate you all,” he says, though his tone is lighter than it should be.

“And we love you,” Minho shoots back, raising his mug in a toast. “To Han Jisung’s sheer, unbridled stupidity.”

You clink your mug against his, laughing as the room erupts once more into cheers.

Jisung remains slouched in the beanbag chair, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His silver hair is still a mess, and his pout deepens with every new “evil genius” compliment directed at you. The teasing isn’t letting up, and Minho, grinning like he’s won the lottery, is the ringleader.

“I’m telling you,” Hyunjin says. “If Y/N ever decides to quit her major, she should go into professional scheming. She’s fucking wasted on Jisung.”

“Hey!” Jisung sits up in his beanbag, pointing an accusing finger at Hyunjin. His pout deepens, and his glare is somewhere between half-hearted and genuinely offended. “You’re supposed to be my friends, you assholes!”

Jeongin, sprawled out on the floor with a throw pillow under his head, snickers loudly, stretching his legs out. “We are your friends. That’s why we’re making fun of you.”

“You walked into this, man,” Felix says, his tone almost pitying. “You let your girlfriend outsmart you for four weeks straight. How the fuck are we not supposed to make fun of you?”

“Because I didn’t let her outsmart me!” Jisung fires back, his voice climbing an octave in his frustration. “I didn’t know—” He cuts himself off, realizing mid-sentence how dumb he sounds, and slumps back into the beanbag with a loud groan. “Oh, fuck you guys.”

Hyunjin snickers, flicking a stray lock of hair out of his face. “It’s okay, Ji,” he says mockingly, his tone dripping with faux sympathy. “We’re just impressed that Y/N did it so flawlessly. She’s like the fucking Ocean’s Eleven of frat house fuckery. She's wasted on you"

“She’s wasted on me?” Jisung retorts, sitting up straighter again. “You’re just jealous you don’t have a girlfriend to even try something like that with.”

“Oh, burn,” Felix mutters, grinning as Hyunjin raises an eyebrow, his smirk sharpening.

“Not jealous,” Hyunjin counters smoothly, his tone calm and cutting. “I’m just saying, if Y/N ever wants to stage a hostile takeover of, like, the world? I’d be her first investor.”

Chan nods, barely hiding his grin. “Honestly, Ji? I think we’re all a little scared of her now.”

“You should be,” Minho chimes in, lounging on the opposite couch with his legs stretched out. He tilts his head toward you, his smirk full of pride. “She’s terrifying. And brilliant. A dangerous combo.”

You take a slow sip of your coffee, glancing around the room with a small, satisfied smile. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

Jisung groans loudly, burying his face in his hands. “Oh, my fucking god, stop inflating her ego!”

“Too late,” Jeongin says, laughing as he sits up. “It’s already huge. And honestly? Deserved.”

“Fucking traitors,” Jisung mutters, crossing his arms tightly over his chest like a sulking child. His silver hair sticks up in chaotic tufts, and his pout deepens as the laughter around him refuses to die down. Zak nudges Jisung’s leg with a cold, wet nose, his tail wagging furiously.

Jisung glances down, his expression softening slightly. “What? You need to go out?” he asks, his tone still tinged with exasperation.

Zak doesn’t bark, but his answer comes in the form of a wide, excited circle, his little body vibrating with uncontainable energy. Unfortunately, that energy is paired with something far less charming. As Zak zips around the room, a trail of golden piss sprays in his wake.

“Zak!” Jisung yells, sitting bolt upright as the puppy makes another lap, oblivious to the chaos he’s leaving behind. “No! No, no, no, stop!”

The room erupts into absolute pandemonium. Seungmin doubles over, clutching his stomach as tears stream down his face. Hyunjin falls off the arm of the couch. Felix has to grip the side of the couch for support as he gasps for air, his face red from laughing so hard.

“Oh my fucking god,” Seungmin chokes out, his voice high-pitched and wheezing. “Look at him go!”

“It’s like Fast and Furious: Puppy Piss Drift,” Changbin howls, barely managing to get the words out before another fit of laughter overtakes him.

You bury your face in your hands, your body shaking with uncontrollable laughter. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you try to catch your breath. “Jisung,” you manage between gasps, “this is your problem.”

Jisung groans, his head falling back in defeat. “This is your dog!” he exclaims, pointing an accusing finger at you. “You clean this shit up!”

Felix, still leaning against the couch arm, grins like the Cheshire Cat. “The poor girl can barely walk because you railed her for three hours last night, Jisung. You break the vagina? You clean the dog piss.”

“Facts,” Minho chimes in, his grin wicked as he sprawls across the opposite couch. “Do your fucking job, loser. Clean it up, piss boy.”

Jisung glares at Minho, muttering curses under his breath as he drags himself out of the beanbag chair. “You’re all assholes,” he grumbles, stomping toward the kitchen. He yanks a roll of paper towels and a bottle of antibacterial spray from the counter before stomping back into the living room, his expression pure misery.

Meanwhile, Chan scoops Zak up, cradling the wriggling puppy against his chest. “Come on, little guy,” he says soothingly, heading toward the back door. “Let’s go outside where peeing doesn’t make everyone hate you.”

Zak licks Chan’s chin in response, his tail wagging like he’s just won a prize.

Jisung crouches down, surveying the damage with a look of sheer horror. “Oh my god,” he says, his voice high-pitched with disbelief. “It’s everywhere. It’s in the fucking floorboards!”

This sets everyone off again. Minho nearly slides off his seat entirely, clutching at the armrest as he howls with laughter. “Scrub faster, piss boy!” he shouts, pointing at Jisung like a ringleader at a circus.

“Don’t forget the corners!” Jeongin adds, his grin so wide it looks painful. “You missed a spot near the couch.”

Hyunjin wipes tears from his eyes, his face flushed as he sits up from where he collapsed on the floor. “Just use the mop on your head,” he says, smirking. “That shit you call hair has to be good for something.”

Jisung pauses mid-scrub to glare at Hyunjin, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment and fury. “I hate all of you,” he mutters darkly, though the corners of his mouth twitch upward despite himself.

“You’re not even scrubbing hard enough,” Felix teases, leaning forward with a grin. “Put some fucking elbow grease into it. Come on, show us that stamina from last night.”

“Fuck you, Felix,” Jisung snaps, though his voice cracks slightly as laughter bubbles up unbidden. He shakes his head, muttering as he sprays more cleaner onto the floor. “You’re all dead to me. Every last one of you.”

“Aw, poor Jisung,” Chan says as he walks back into the room, Zak now happily sniffing a chew toy. “Don’t worry, we’ll give you a proper memorial after you die of shame.”

“You guys are lucky I’m still in this frat,” Jisung grumbles. “Otherwise, I’d burn this whole place down.”

Minho cackles, throwing an arm over Jeongin’s shoulder as he leans back. “You’d probably set yourself on fire in the process, piss boy.”

“You’re all dead to me,” Jisung mutters, spraying the floor with enough antibacterial cleaner to kill any and all germs within a ten-mile radius. He furiously scrubs at the puddle Zak left behind with a handful of paper towels, his movements sharp and exaggerated. “This is the worst fucking day of my life. My girlfriend, my girlfriend, deceived me, made me believe there were twenty-nine days in November, I lost No Nut November to Minho of all people, and now I’m on my hands and knees cleaning up my girlfriend’s dog’s piss. On my hands and knees, scrubbing up puppy piss. What the actual fuck.”

The room erupts into fresh laughter, Minho practically rolling off the couch as he gasps for air. Hyunjin leans back against the armrest, clutching his stomach as tears stream down his face. Jisung groans dramatically, spraying more cleaner onto the floor.

“Fuck all of you. I don’t deserve this. I should be in bed. But no, here I am, cleaning up Zak’s liquid fucking shame while you assholes laugh at my misery.”

Despite the grumbling, his eyes keep drifting toward you. You’re curled up on the couch, your legs tucked beneath you, wearing his oversized T-shirt like it’s made just for you. Your head is thrown back in laughter, your cheeks flushed, and your eyes crinkle at the corners every time Minho cracks another joke. The sound of your laugh fills the room, soft but bright, and something warm curls in Jisung’s chest, cutting through his annoyance.

He catches himself smiling, and it pisses him off even more, but not enough to stop. Each time he glances at you, his lips twitch upward, betraying the fondness he’s trying to keep under wraps. By the time he’s scrubbing at the last of the mess, his grumbles have turned into soft chuckles, and his scowl has softened into something undeniably warm.

“Jagiya,” he calls out, his voice carrying a teasing edge now, his earlier frustration melting away. “You’re lucky I fucking love you.”

You glance over, your smile widening as your eyes meet his. Mischief sparkles in your gaze, and you tilt your head. “Oh, I know,” you reply smoothly, your tone as smug as it is sweet.

Jisung shakes his head, chuckling under his breath as he scrubs at the final streak. “Fucking worth it,” he mutters to himself, his grin lingering as he watches you laugh again. You’re glowing, surrounded by the teasing chaos, and the sight makes his chest ache in the best way.

“I say we just blame Jisung,” Seungmin pipes up from the armchair, his face blank but his voice dripping with sarcasm. “If the house ends up smelling like piss forever, we just say Jisung lost his shit. Like, literally. Pissed everywhere in a fit of frustration.”

Hyunjin bursts out laughing, slapping the couch cushion beside him. “Yeah, like Jisung got so sexually frustrated during No Nut November that he just snapped. Whipped out his dick and started pissing on the floor.”

The room descends into chaos again, the laughter deafening as Minho gasps, “Marking his territory! Alpha Phi’s new mascot, Piss Boy!”

Felix doubles over, choking on his laughter. “Someone get him a leash! He and Zak can take turns on the fire hydrant.”

Jisung glares at them, his ears burning red. “You’re all fucking insane,” he says, throwing a crumpled paper towel at Felix, who barely dodges it.

“No, no, they’re right,” Changbin says, his grin wicked. “We just tell people Jisung got overwhelmed by the smell of sex in the house and decided to add his own.”

“Marking his territory,” Hyunjin repeats, wheezing. “God, I can’t breathe.”

Jisung huffs, sitting back on his heels and tossing the last paper towel into the trash bag. “You guys are seriously deranged.”

Minho smirks, crossing his arms. “Says the guy who just spent twenty minutes on his hands and knees cleaning piss. You’re our leader now, Piss Boy.”

The laughter continues, but Jisung’s attention drifts back to you. You’re doubled over, laughing so hard you can’t even form words, tears shining in your eyes. Despite the relentless teasing and the sheer absurdity of the situation, Jisung feels that same warmth bloom in his chest.

He sighs, pushing himself to his feet and tossing the cleaner back onto the counter and to wash his hands in the kitchen. “You’re all still assholes,” he mutters, walking over to plop down on the couch next to you. His arm loops lazily around your shoulders, pulling you close.

You lean into him, still giggling as you look up at him. “But you love us.”

He smirks, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “Some more than others.”

This was supposed to come out at the end of November but got delayed so here it is now <3

General Taglist: @nightmarenyxx

[verysmolnerd]

Double-shift Drowsiness

Drabble: You're ten minutes from closing and your former professor comes in asking for directions.

I think it’s blatantly obvious that I don’t like working minimum-wage jobs. Hell, my very first fic posted on the internet was because I was treated like shit at a retail store. Now, it’s a little better but that doesn’t mean I’m still not getting the butt end of a stick. This be a vent drable… my bad. 

Cw: Swearing

God fucking dammit. 

You’re here again, for another summer, to take a ludicrous amount of bullshit from your coworkers just to shell in a few more dollars towards your college tuition. 

Normally, the shifts are bearable and you can come home fine, but when you’re there all day sunrise to sunset, it isn’t ideal coming home with so much grease on you. When you shower, you don’t even feel the water on you for a minute because of how much grease had gotten in your skin. 

As for the coworkers part, it’s mainly just one blonde bitch in particular. Specifically, a carhop that’s more entitled than the angry customers here and has the audacity to be a douche to anybody and everybody. When she speaks it always sounds like she cops some sort of attitude when she comes back into the kitchen. 

The only time -as of recently- when she isn’t acting like a punchable brat, is when the general manager of the kitchen staff is around. You had pointed out to them that she was only doing this to be in their good graces, and they agreed; explaining to you that they’ve already talked with her numerous times but she still refuses to listen. You could only hope that one day she’ll get the boot like someone that everyone else in the kitchen even refuses to talk about. 

It always feels like when one problem from the kitchen gets extinguished, three more pop up. With whom that shall not be named is gone, all the kitchen staff are comfortable with talking with each other and making jokes without someone coming in to ruin the mood or harass you. Now, the problem is the one carhop acting like the next cockroach of the damn place and new hires refusing to do work. May you be reminded that you’re only here for the summer and ONLY HERE TO MAKE MONEY FOR THE UPCOMING SCHOOL YEAR.

…

Why do you care so much? It’s just who you are, sadly. 

Now you’re here, still at the restaurant ten minutes to close. You were calmly wiping down the countertops while the general manager had some nostalgic slow songs from the 2000s playing on a Bluetooth speaker that somehow is still working after months of straight abuse and constant use. 

Your other coworkers in the kitchen -you guys just call each other comrades at this point with how tight you are with all the workers that have those strong skills back here- were sweeping and restocking the fridges for the deep fryer or grill. It’s peaceful, well, as peaceful as a food service kitchen could be. 

Everyone was just as tired as you were because it was really late and a long day for those who didn’t work a double shift like you. You needed the hours, what else could you say? Unfortunately, the amount of tiring work doesn’t dawn on you until you’re working over forty hours a week. 

You could see the silhouette of two cars pull in from the packing window, and you sighed. Late stragglers. Somehow, the most desperate people to get to a cheap chain restaurant are also the people who order half of the menu, it infuriates you to no end. 

One car pulled right up in the spot in front go the building, and the other pulled in at a farther spot. You close your eyes and exhale, this is a common thing to happen so you’re not surprised. You are, however, annoyed that everyone in the building is bitching about it. 

What you weren’t expecting, was the person who parked so close to the building to come inside. It’s not like you truly cared anyway, you were just upfront to refill your drink; you haven’t done so in hours and you were beyond parched. 

Your back was to the counter as you waited for the machine to finish pouring your drink, not expecting your name to be called. You turn around, thinking it’s some sort of coworker calling you….

But it was Otto. Your former professor of all people. Dressed in those turtlenecks that hug his figure with dress pants and completing shoes that shine under the restaurant lobby’s lights. 

You lock eyes with him and freeze, both of you staring at each other in shock. “What are you doing here?” You ask him, you’d never thought that you’d see him again…period. “I could say the same about you,” he responded, fumbling with his hands. 

You can feel a few of your coworkers peer through the small window to look at you and the front staff watch the conversations from the blind spots of the counter. You sighed, “This is my hometown. I work here in the summer.” Otto glanced over the counter and noticed the nosy staff, they quickly retreated to the backrooms when they were discovered. 

“I just came to ask for directions since my phone died.” Otto held up the dead device. You nodded, setting your cup down on the counter, “Where are you headed?.. Or where do you think you’re headed?” This isn’t a common thing when people want to go somewhere in this part of the state but end up getting lost, the maps are outdated when you’re this rural, so you’ve had to point a few people the right way. “A retreat where some of my colleagues are, it’s supposed to be more up north..” He paused, you know Otto very well; he hates making mistakes, to be seen as an idiot when he genuinely didn’t know something, “but I think I took a wrong turn- ” he told you the name of the camp with a few descriptors of the place, and you nodded. 

You walked up near the front of the store and picked up a pamphlet, “I think this is the camp you’re talking about,” You handed the advertisement to Otto. He smiled brightly, “Yes it is.” You can see the relief across his face. 

“Good news then. You’ve only got two more hours worth of driving on the main road.” Otto’s face fell, it seemed that the urban convenience he’d had his whole life might’ve been a stunt to his patience. Though you don’t blame him, night driving in the countryside can be quite nerve-wracking.  Deer are the most ruthless to people from the city. 

You let out an airy chuckle, “Is it bound to get dark soon,” You eyed the electronic clock, it displayed the time 9:00 pm, “Are you sure that you want to drive when it’s dark out?” Otto looked like he wanted to say yes, but he stopped himself. 

“You’ll crash at my place tonight.” Otto opened his mouth to protest, but the carhop of your nightmares entered the restaurant and walked right up to him. “Hi! How can I help ya?” You clenched your jaw at the sickly-sweet tone she uses. Otto waved her off, “Ah, no thanks I’m just asking for directions from a friend of mine.” Otto gestured to you with those huge hands of his. You felt yourself heat up with pride, he sees you as more than a student; well, you do have his number…

You can see that the source of your dismay clenched her teeth with a customer service smile before walking away. Otto cleared his throat, “About earlier-“ “Yeah, you can just follow my car home.” You gave him zero room to say no.

“Ah, just a sec,” You walked into the kitchen to see if it was okay, but the team lead already waved you off and said, “Go.” 

Well shit.. alright then..

You grabbed the stuff you brought with you and you clocked out on an outdated machine up front. You waved to Otto to follow you, to the parking lot. You got in your car, and he got into his, and now you’re leading him to your place. 

It wasn’t that far of a drive, the longest part was making a left turn from one of the main roads, there always seemed to be cars there when you wanted to make a turn.

You pulled into your driveway and were now getting your keys out to unlock the front door. You felt the warmth of your previous professor at your back fighting the chilly night air. It was about time that the nights got cooler again, it’s nearly September after all…

You open the front door and hold it for Otto, but he uses his height to keep it open; his hand is high above your head to keep the door open, “No, it’s fine you can go in first.” You thanked him and went inside.

You were in the process of putting your things away in their respective spots when the front door shut behind Otto, he was watching you move around your house with ease; like clockwork. “You keep yourself on quite the schedule.” He watched you move around your kitchen, but then you stopped to look at him after he said that. “Oh, don’t let me stop you.” He moved his hands in a manner to tell you to keep moving. “No, I was just wondering if you’ve already eaten dinner? I can whip something up if you’d like.” You explained yourself, Otto nodded and you swore his face was a bit pink, “I did, thank you for asking, but about staying here-“ You cut him off again, “What kind of person would I be if I didn’t let the person I care about stay here for the night,” You turned to shut off the kitchen lights and show him to your bedroom, but you stopped yourself to relay that information to him, “You can stay in my bedroom, what kind of host would I be if you’re not comfortable?” 

“I was just going to say that I can sleep on the couch,” Otto protested, but you weren’t having it. 

“No, I’ll be fine. I have tomorrow off, you need the rest so you can drive.” “You need the rest so you can have a nice day off.” Otto folded his arms.

“No-“

“Let’s not-“ 

You both cut each other off in the argument..

….

You and Otto are now both dressed down in bed, looking at each other completely flushed and in partial shock from the stubbornness you both share. 

You click off the night, and Otto speaks, “Well, good night.” “Love you.” You automatically responded. You froze and Otto laughed. 

“Love you too.” 

[cauldronoflove]

@formosusiniquis my reply got way too long so here we are but! that was like my number one issue with trying to research is there felt like no in-between from [absolute beginner] to [dave and his hi-fi set-up he's been curating for 35 years] my biggest recommendation would be to decide what exactly you want from your vinyl experience and go from there bc otherwise it becomes way too overwhelming. but the right table opens up so many avenues!! the debate on automatic vs manual is a long one and i dont pretend to be an expert but i can say personally i definitely went from super casual to a bit more involved after my upgrade much to my delight since i went from (semi)automatic to manual (though i still wouldnt consider myself an audiophile because i unabashedly love a bit of crackle in my vinyl.) i think the biggest difference is what kind of albums you're trying to play, which is most of what i mean when i say decide what you want from your vinyl experience.

automatics tend to be the right choice if you're playing brand new albums or really high quality vintage because the arm is fixed, so any scratching or slight warping is going to cause disruptions in playback whether it be skipping or catching since the pressure the needle is exerting over the grooves is constant and can't be amended. that can also wear out the needle much faster, which becomes a whole other can of worms. however a lot of people enjoy the hands-off parts of an automatic and appreciate the bluetooth capabilities you can find in a lot of them. they also tend to be a bit more compact which is great if you dont have a lot of room to dedicate.

a manual is good for all of the above as well as "lower" quality vintage, since the tone arm isn't fixed, meaning it can move with most changes in the vinyl, rise and fall with a slight warp without damaging your needle, and power through most superficial scratches with a tiny pop or some crackle but no skips/catches. there are definitely some albums in a condition that even a manual can't accommodate for and will still skip, but in my 300+ album collection and the case of 45s i have i can only think of a half dozen or so that don't play straight through where they would have been unlistenable on my old player. the ability to be able to adjust the counterweight on a manual is a lot of the reason i went that route, in addition to the fact that they can grow with the user (parts are much more easily swapped than on an automatic, which are usually pretty much hardwired, though i know some have the capability for swapping cartridges/etc), and because i prefer the more hands on approach of physically setting my needle/etc. though they tend to cost a bit more to start, you ultimately save money in the long run because you learn very quickly what kind of condition albums it can work with and so you have the option of grabbing a cheap vintage copy or a 35 dollar repress, depending on what you want and not what your table can handle

all in all i'm a huge advocate for physicial media and vinyl in general and i think it's a fantastic hobby for anyone, so i don't really judge how people interact with it, but my steadfast rules that i tell anyone that'll listen are

- do not get a table with built in speakers (commonly referred to as a suitcase player). combining the downsides of the fixed aspects of an automatic + the vibrations from the speakers moving up into your albums all at once is one of the most dismal sonic experiences and will more than likely fuck up your albums or needle or both

- and make sure you get one with a full platter, since the natural weight pulling against the outer reaches of the album that hangs over the side of smaller platters can cause warping and theres more room for potential debris to land

[comfysittings]

Real Relax Massage Chairs: Affordable Luxury for Home Relaxation

In today's fast-paced world, finding moments to unwind and relax can feel like a luxury. With the increasing popularity of home massage chairs, more people are turning to these innovative solutions to enjoy spa-like experiences right in their living rooms. One brand that consistently stands out for its combination of affordability and quality is Real Relax. If you're considering investing in a massage chair, Real Relax might just be the perfect fit for you.

Why Choose Real Relax Massage Chairs?

Real Relax has built a strong reputation by offering feature-packed massage chairs at a fraction of the price of high-end competitors. While some massage chairs can set you back thousands of dollars, Real Relax provides models that cater to budget-conscious consumers without compromising on quality or essential features.

Here are some of the reasons why Real Relax massage chairs are worth considering:

1. Value for Money Real Relax massage chairs are known for delivering high-end features like zero gravity positioning, full-body massage capabilities, and heat therapy at competitive prices. This makes them an excellent entry point for those who want the benefits of a massage chair without breaking the bank.

2. Easy to Use and Install One of the best things about Real Relax chairs is how user-friendly they are. Most models come with simple remote controls and intuitive interfaces, allowing users to customize their massage experience with ease. Additionally, the chairs are generally easy to assemble, often taking less than an hour to set up.

3. Full-Body Coverage Many Real Relax models offer comprehensive massage coverage from head to toe. Airbags, rollers, and foot massage nodes work together to ensure that every part of your body gets the relaxation it needs. Whether you have tension in your shoulders, lower back pain, or tired legs, these chairs can help address multiple areas simultaneously.

4. Zero Gravity Design Zero gravity recline is a popular feature across many massage chairs, and Real Relax doesn’t skimp on this. This recline position distributes weight evenly across your body, reducing spinal pressure and enhancing the overall massage experience.

5. Heat Therapy and Customization Heat therapy is another valuable feature found in many Real Relax models. Applying heat to areas like the lower back can boost blood circulation, helping to alleviate stiffness and discomfort. Combined with adjustable massage intensity and multiple massage programs, Real Relax chairs allow users to tailor their experience based on their unique needs.

Popular Real Relax Models

Real Relax Favor-03 PLUS This model is one of the brand’s bestsellers, featuring full-body massage, zero gravity recline, and built-in Bluetooth speakers. It also comes with an ergonomic design that fits well in most home settings.

Real Relax Favor-05 A step up from the Favor-03, this chair adds more airbags and rollers for enhanced coverage. The Favor-05 also incorporates advanced heating functions and additional massage modes.

Real Relax Favor-06 With a sleeker design and upgraded features, the Favor-06 boasts voice control, allowing users to adjust settings hands-free. This model is perfect for tech-savvy individuals looking for the latest innovations.

Is a Real Relax Massage Chair Right for You?

If you're someone who experiences regular back pain, muscle soreness, or just wants to relax after a long day, investing in a Real Relax massage chair could significantly enhance your quality of life. These chairs are ideal for:

Individuals with sedentary jobs

Athletes looking for muscle recovery

Seniors seeking joint and muscle relief

Anyone needing stress relief at home

While Real Relax chairs may not have the same brand prestige as some luxury competitors, they more than make up for it with functionality and cost-effectiveness.

Final Thoughts

Real Relax massage chairs provide an affordable and reliable solution for those seeking relaxation at home. With a wide range of features and models, you can easily find one that suits your budget and preferences. For anyone in need of daily comfort and rejuvenation, Real Relax could be the game-changer you’ve been searching for.

Explore the various models today and bring home the luxury of a spa massage without ever leaving your house. After all, relaxation should always be within reach.

[20dollarlolita]

I’ve been getting a million facebook and instagram advertisements for bias tape makers, like they’re a legendary new thing that just came out, and if you don’t buy it from THIS ONE SKETCHY SITE for $39.99 MARKED DOWN TO JUST TEN DOLLARS (plus $13.95 shipping) then you’ll NEVER HAVE BIAS TAPE AGAIN.

So I want to clarify some things:

1, you can buy a bias tape maker at Joann. It’s in the quilt notions section (which may be different from the regular notions section).

2, the annoying part of making bias tape is cutting and joining the strips, which this tool (nor any tool except scissors or a rotary cutter) does not help you with. (you can skip the annoyance of joining with the continuous bias cut method, btw)

3, if you don’t like pressing your bias tape you can use the HK Hem Finish and just not do that (linked tutorial also includes instructions for continuous bias method.

And 4, I’m not saying EVERY website linked to you in your facebook or instagram advertisements is a scam that will charge you a lot for shipping, send you an inexpensive bluetooth speaker, and then tell you that they’ll give you only a 40% refund without shipping refunded unless you post the speaker all the way back to China, leaving you without your product but having paid $21 for a $5 bluetooth speaker, and I’m not saying EVERY product you see in these adverts is also available on Ebay or Amazon, thus allowing you to purchase it from a store that has return policies that protect the customer and not the scammer, but I AM saying that’s my experience.

This took me less than one minute to find on ebay

As a general rule, the second the Wheel of Deals pops up, you should close the tab and get on ebay. These people wanted $18 plus shipping for the same set that’s $7 + ships free on ebay.

Related: 20dollarlolita reviews the MAGIC EMBROIDERY PEN

[petersasteria]

Marriage? Pass. - Peter Parker

Pairing: Financial advisor!Peter x Museum curator!Reader

Requested? Nah.

PP Masterlist

* * * *

"Good morning, Pete." You yawned before slowly sitting up. You glanced at your boyfriend as he just hummed in reply. He wasn't a morning person, but he had a demanding job that he's going to be late to if he doesn't wake up now.

You give Peter a light nudge and told him to wake up or he'll be late if he didn't start his morning routine now. Peter grumbled and slowly opened his eyes. He blinked a few times as he adjusted to the light and sat up. He turned to you and kissed your cheek.

"Good morning. Thanks for waking me up." He smiled sleepily at you with his messy bed hair all over the place. You giggled, "You're welcome. Go shower and I'll make breakfast."

"I know, I know." Peter smiled and got out of bed to go to the shower. You got out of bed too and stretched before starting your morning routine. You've been doing it for as long as you can remember. At this point, your movements are all muscle memory.

Your routine went like this: while Peter is in the shower, you fix your shared bed and charge his phone because he always forgets. Then, you take both of your empty glasses from your night stands and head to the kitchen. When you get to the kitchen, you put the glasses in the sink and prepare breakfast.

Breakfast was a little tricky because Peter didn't like having the same food everyday. Same goes for lunch and dinner. Thankfully, you already knew this and you made a schedule for every meal. Every night before you went to bed, you write down options for Peter and he would choose the next day. The schedule was written on a 6.5" chalkboard and it's placed on top of the kitchen island.

You grabbed the chalkboard and quickly went to the bathroom and knocked. You knew Peter wouldn't hear you, so you shouted.

"Pete? What do you want for breakfast? Egg and bacon sandwich with coffee, a bowl of cereal, pancakes with orange juice or waffles with hot chocolate?" You asked loudly.

"Can I have waffles, but with bacon on the side? Also, I want coffee with that. Not hot chocolate. Thanks, honey!" Peter shouted back as you quickly wrote it down on the chalkboard.

"Gotcha. Love you!"

"Love you too!"

You smiled to yourself and went back to the kitchen to start cooking Peter's request. What he has, you also have. You didn't mind that Peter mixed up the breakfast choices. In fact, his taste buds are pretty helpful in grocery shopping. If he doesn't like it, you don't buy it anymore. It's pretty simple.

After cooking breakfast and setting the table, you prepared Peter's lunch. Since it was a weekday and both of you had jobs, all you had to prepare for Peter's lunch was the dessert which was cut up fruits in a small tupperware. You cut up a few fruits, put them in a tupperware, and put them in the fridge.

Just as you finished, Peter walked in and sat down. You sat across from him and both of you began eating. Peter didn't like talking while eating breakfast and you learned that the hard way. To fill in the silence, you connected your phone to a bluetooth speaker and played classical music which always relaxed Peter.

He looked at you and gave you a close-lipped smile. After all these years of being together, you knew his smile meant 'thank you'.

After breakfast, it was Peter's turn to do his part. He washed the dishes as you quickly went to the bathroom to shower and get ready for the day. Peter knew you took your time in the bathroom that's why both of you wake up really early in the morning so both of you wouldn't be late.

After washing the dishes, Peter prepared your dessert for lunch. You didn't like fruits that much and you were allergic to a few of them, so Peter packed you chocolate pudding instead. After packing your dessert, Peter wiped the table clean, disconnected your phone from the bluetooth speaker, and went to your shared room to charge it.

After showering, you were still in a towel and you opened the bathroom door slightly for Peter to come in. Both of you brushed your teeth together and got dressed together. It was all fun and domestic and you wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

When both of you are finished dressing up, you both unplug your phones and go to the kitchen to get the desserts you packed before going to the living room to get your bags and put your shoes on. After that, both of you share a kiss before getting in your respective cars and driving to work.

That was your routine everyday for seven years. You met Peter in college. You just turned twenty and your friends took you to a nice restaurant that you've always wanted to go to. Peter was there with his aunt and his aunt's boyfriend when he saw you. With all the courage he gathered, he walked to your table and asked you out. The rest was history.

"Good morning, Y/N!" Becca, your colleague, said with a playful smile on her face. You chuckled and said, "Good morning! What's got you so smiley and happy today?"

You signed in and put your things on your desk and sat down. Becca stood in front of your desk and grabbed a pen. "I hope you don't mind if I borrow your pen." Becca giggled and raised her left hand where the pen was.

You looked at the pen she was holding and did a double-take when you saw a pretty engagement ring on her finger.

"Oh my god." You said in shock. You stood up from your seat and grabbed her left hand. "Oh my god." You repeated.

"I know!" Becca shrieked. "I'm engaged!"

"You're engaged!" You squealed. "Yay! I'm so happy for you!" You pulled her in for a hug before looking at the ring again. It was so gorgeous.

"He proposed last night." Becca gushed. "I honestly still can't believe it."

"That's so amazing. I'm happy for both of you!" You exclaimed and sat down again. Becca took a seat in front of your desk and asked, "What about you and Peter? I thought you guys would get engaged first, to be honest. You've been together for so long. Meanwhile, Heath and I have been dating for only three years. You guys getting married soon?"

You knew it was an innocent question, but it was a touchy topic for you. It wasn't that you didn't want to get married. You did; you truly wanted to marry Peter and you were ready. You've been ready five years ago.

Peter was the problem. He didn't want to get married. He told you that one morning on your fourth anniversary when you both saw someone propose in public.

"Hey, Pete?"

"Hmm?"

"You ever thought of getting married?" You asked softly as both of you walked hand in hand in Central Park.

He looked at you for a second before looking ahead. He shrugged and said, "I'm not really into the whole marriage thing, y'know? Besides, why do people have to make such a big gesture to show people that they're going to be with one person for the rest of their life? Like, I'm really happy with what you and I have and I can see us lasting for a long time and we're official for four years now and we will be official for as long as we're together. So, why do we have to make things official again, but with a piece of paper this time?"

"Marriage has a lot of shit, babe. Trust me. There's a pre-nup thing and planning so many things that wouldn't matter in the end because who the fuck cares about centerpieces, anyway? It's literally a thing for each table with the table number on it. It'll just be looked at for, like, a second and then it wouldn't be paid attention to anymore. Plus, weddings are hella expensive. The national average cost of a wedding dress is about one thousand and six hundred something dollars and that includes alterations already. BUT- dress prices are based on a lot of factors and they generally range from five hundred dollars to four thousand dollars. And that's JUST the gown for the bride. What more if they add the venue, the decorations, the dresses for the bridesmaids, the tuxes for the dudes, the fuckin' flowers, and a whole lot of other shit?" Peter rambled.

You nodded. He made a few valid points, but to you, marriage is the life goal.

"Why'd you ask? You planning on marrying me?" Peter joked.

You smiled a bit and shook your head, "I just wanted to ask because someone proposed a while ago."

"Phew! I thought you were going to ask." Peter laughed. He put his arm around you and kissed the top of your head, "I'm happy with what we are now and I love you. I don't need to show other people that."

"I love you too, Pete." You said quietly.

You looked at Becca and said, "Me and Peter? Getting married? Um, no. I don't- I don't think so."

"What? Why not?" Becca furrowed her eyebrows. "Both of you have been together for so long! You guys should seal the deal now."

"Marriage isn't really Peter's thing." You explained.

"Is it your thing?" Becca asked and you sighed and nodded. "Then, tell him!"

"No way, Becca. He's just going to say the same shit he told me on our fourth anniversary." You said and fixed the papers on your desk.

"Maybe he changed his mind?" Becca suggested.

"Nope. I've known Peter for so long and one thing about him is that he never changes his mind, EVER. Once he says something, he just does it. His motto in life is literally 'practice what you preach'. Hence, not changing his mind." You let out an exasperated sigh.

"Look, Becca, I appreciate your concern and all, but it's not happening." You smiled sadly. "Don't worry about me and Peter, okay? Just worry about planning your wedding because that'll take up majority of your time."

For the rest of the day, you couldn't focus on curating at all. In fact, you nearly messed up some words. In truth, you haven't thought about marriage since your fourth anniversary and now that Becca's mentioned it, you couldn't get it out of your head.

It wasn't wise to contact Peter during his work hours because he dealt with clients who didn't know what to do with their money and stuff. He also didn't want to be bothered while he was at work. Besides, it gave you both something to talk about at dinner.

When you got home, you did your night routine. You went to your room and got dressed in comfortable clothing. Knowing Peter was on his way home, you took out your phone and called him.

"Hey, honey." Peter answered. "I'm glad you called! Listen, don't cook anything. Relax and watch tv or something. I bought dinner for us from the restaurant where we met."

"What? That's so out of budget, Peter. We only eat there once a year and that's for our anniversary." You said in worry.

"Yeah, I know, but we really shouldn't worry about spending. I'm literally a financial advisor." Peter chuckled. "Also, I just got a raise."

"Wow!" You smiled. "Tell me all about it when you get home, alright? I don't want you getting in a car accident or something."

"Will do. See ya later!" Peter hang up. You looked down at your phone and sighed. You took Peter's advice and relaxed while waiting for him. You drew yourself a bath and got in. About thirty minutes later, you heard the front door open and Peter shouted, "I'm home! I brought food!"

You got out of the bath and drained the water in the tub. You dried yourself and put on your bathrobe before meeting Peter in the kitchen. He was setting the table and he smiled at you, "Hey beautiful."

"Hey handsome." You chuckled. "Thanks for buying dinner. I appreciate it."

"You're welcome! It's no problem, really. It's a thank you for dealing with my shit and for cooking for me all the time. God knows I can't cook, so hopefully surprising you with food from the restaurant where we met is enough to make you happy." Peter said and walked up to you to pull you in for a hug.

You hugged back, "I do those things because I love you, Pete."

"I love you more." He kissed your forehead and urged you to sit down. Both of you sat down and Peter started talking about his raise and his client who didn't know what an insurance was. Everything was going swell, but you couldn't get the marriage thing off your mind.

"Becca's getting married." You blurted out. Peter stopped talking and looked at you. "She, uh, Heath asked her last night and she said yes."

Peter nodded and smiled, "Good for her! They've been together for so long now."

"Do you think we'd get married too?" You asked him.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Do you think we'd get married too?" You repeated. "We've been together for seven years now and I think it's time for us to get married and start a family. We're not getting any younger, Pete. We're 27 years old for fuck's sake."

"Y/N, you know where I stand in marriage, right?" Peter said. "I'm not into that kind of shit. I thought we were on the same page?"

"No and I'm sorry!" You sighed. "I want to get married and I want to get married to you. Otherwise, I won't get married at all. I want us to move out of this apartment and buy a house where our kids can run around and play."

"Then let's start a family!" Peter exclaimed.

"I want to do it right, Peter!" You argued. "I want us to get married first and then have as many kids as you fucking want. But first, I want to walk down the aisle and say my vows to you. I want that, Peter."

Peter looked at you and sighed, "Then maybe I'm not the guy that you're looking for. We obviously want different things and I can't give you what you want."

"Are you breaking up with me?" You asked in shock.

Peter nodded, "Yeah, I am. I can't be a husband and you deserve someone who can be. I'm sorry." With that, he stood up from his seat and went to your shared room to pack his things in a duffel bag. You stayed in the dining table with your head in your hands. You really didn't expect him to break up with you.

Peter walked out of your shared room and approached you. You looked at him and he bent down a bit to kiss you one last time before he left.

"I'm sorry things had to end this way." He mumbled. "I love you and I'll always love you for as long as I'll live. But I also want you to be happy and if getting married makes you happy, I'm willing to let you go just for that to happen."

"But I want to get married to YOU." You cried.

"In another life, I want to get married and I want to get married to you. But this is the life we have, okay? I'm still going to be here for you. So if you need me, I'll be staying at May's, alright?" He said sadly and kissed your forehead before leaving.

It had been three months since your split with Peter and everything has been going downhill for you. Becca was so into wedding planning and she kept asking you for help. As if things were not worse for you, your younger sister recently got engaged too. Some of your Facebook friends were either on their honeymoon, having their first baby, or walking down the aisle already. It frustrated you BIG TIME.

To top it all off, your mom (who wasn't in the picture since forever) came back because she heard that your little sister was getting married and your dad had a heart attack. Thankfully, he was okay. He's just resting now.

You were at your childhood home and you were having a stressful time. You were taking care of your dad and no one was helping you around. Your little sister was busy planning her wedding and her husband-to-be was a slacker and he doesn't clean up after himself at all. Your mom was staying in the guest room and she was so demanding and she was such a picky eater and she nagged to you about how you should settle down now. You were so stressed and you were on the verge of a breakdown and all of a sudden, the A/C stopped working.

That set you off.

You locked yourself in your old room and just cried. You cried until you fell asleep. When you woke up, it was already the next day and you heard commotion downstairs. You walked to where the noise was coming from and it was coming from the living room; where the A/C was broken.

You peeked in and you were surprised to see Peter fixing the A/C. Your mom saw you and said, "Y/N! Good morning, sweetie. This is Peter. He fixed the A/C and guess what? He's single! Maybe-"

"Mom, Y/N knows who he is." Your sister rolled her eyes.

Peter held on to the ladder and looked at you. He saw your puffy eyes that were still slightly red and he saw bags under your eyes. He also knew that you were really tired.

"Really? How do they know each other?" Your mom gushed.

"They dated for 7 years. Let's just leave them alone. They need to talk, anyway." Your little sister said and gave you a small smile. She and your mom left the living room and Peter got down the ladder and walked to you.

"I'm, uh, sorry for coming here. You probably didn't want to see me, but Y/S/N gave me a call about the A/C. She asked if I could fix it because I was into, and I quote, 'machines or whatever'. So I came by and I really didn't expect you to be here." Peter said, but you just stared at him.

He cleared his throat, "Also, all the dishes were just left in the sink. I washed them all, though. I hope it's less work for you. The A/C's fixed now, by the way. If it breaks again, I suggest you just buy a new one. There's this brand that-"

You cut him off by giving him a big hug and you just cried. You were so tired and Peter hugged back tightly and said, "You're alright. You'll be fine."

"I missed you." You cried. "I missed you being by my side and the apartment feel so empty now that you're gone. I just want you back. Life was super easy with you in it."

"But-"

You pulled away and shook your head, "I don't care anymore. If you don't want to get married, I respect that. Let's just be partners for life, okay? I'll be fine with that just as long as I have you in my life; that's good enough for me."

"Okay." Peter nodded and smiled.

"Okay?" You asked.

"Okay." He chuckled lightly. "I love you."

"I love you too." You smiled and wiped your tears.

Peter's job was tiring. A few weeks after he had gotten back together with you, he was getting busier and busier. Today, his client asked him if they still had savings from when they got married. Peter was looking through the said client's files as the client kept talking.

"Why'd you get married?" Peter asked nonchalantly.

"If I'm being honest, I didn't want to get married." The client chuckled. "But life is funny. I met someone and for some reason, everything changed. Sure, we could've stayed as just long time partners, but being married takes it to a whole 'nother level, y'know?"

"In marriage, couples share things and they start a new chapter in their lives. Whereas if you're just living with your partner in an apartment, that's just it. It's hard to explain. It's similar to long time partners, but at the same time it's not." The client shrugged.

It was then and there that Peter understood marriage. He looked at the client and said, "I'll call you when I find your files, okay? I just remembered that I have to do something."

Peter got out of his seat and told the receptionist that was taking an early lunch break. He walked to his car and quickly unlocked the door and drove to the art museum where you worked.

When he got there, he parked his car and locked the door before running inside. He looked around and saw you curating a tour for grade school kids. He didn't want to bother you at work, but this was really urgent. So, he took a deep breath and walked right up to you.

"Y/N!" Peter said. You looked at him in shock. You turned to the kids and smiled, "Feel free to look at the painting, but don't touch anything."

You turned back to Peter and asked, "What are you doing here?"

"I change my mind." Peter blurted out.

"What're you talking about?" You were confused.

"The whole marriage thing. I change my mind." He said. "Yes, marriage has a lot of shit, but I'll have you for the rest of my life and that's so rewarding. We can get married, buy a house, start a family, you name it! We've been together for 7 years- I'm not counting the three-month break up because I know that I still loved you during that time. I love you more than anything in the world and I want to show you that I love you for the rest of my life. So-"

He knelt down and your eyes widened.

"Oh my god. What're you doing?" You whispered.

"I think I'm proposing." Peter said quietly and he grabbed your hands. "Y/N, will you marry me? I know I don't have a ring right now, but that can wait. I-"

"Yes." You tear up. "Yes, I will marry you!"

Peter smiled and stood up to kiss you. Everyone around you clapped and you both pulled away. You rested your forehead on his and he said, "I have to go now. I have to get back to work and I have to buy you a ring."

"I love you, Peter."

"I love you, Y/N."

* * * *

im back lmao sorry if it's shit

𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @blueleatherbag��� @harryismysunflower​​ @buckys-little-hoe​​ @sandystoriess​ @heeeyitskay​​ @slytherin-chaser​​ @quaksonhehe​​ @yaya4302​​ @lil-mellow-bunbun​​ @starlight-starks​​ @swiftmind​​ @alexx-stancati​​ @sovereignparker​​ @nerdyandproudofitsstuff​​ @pearce14​​ @xfirstfemale-marauderx​​ @cherthegoddess​​ @chewymoustachio​​ @cocoamoonmalfoy​​ @parkerlovebot​​ @supred12​​

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:  @marvelousell​​​​ @justasmisunderstoodasloki​​​​ @rubberducky-jrr​​​ @allyz​ @osterfieldnholland​​​​ @miraclesoflove​​​ @god-knows-what-am-i-doing​​ @perspectiveparker​​ @hollands-weasley​​ @itstaskeen​​  @call-me-baby-gir1​​ @the-panwitch​​ @iamaunicorn4704​​ @chloecreatesfictions​​ @holland-styles​​ @halfblood-princess-505​​ @spidey-reids-2003​​ @herbatkazmiloscia @whatthefuckimbisexual​​ @justanothermarvelmaniac​​ @unsaidholland​​ @musicalkeys​​ @lost-in-the-stars03​​ @hufflepuffprincess24​​ @hollanddolanfangirl​​ @parkerpeter24​​ @bellelittleoff​​ @agentnataliahofferson​​ @aqiise​

[packconfig]

LOADOUT: Bullet Carry

Here’s a superbly organised collection of gear that Modchop uses for his everyday work carry, which includes his thoughts on the GORUCK 15L pack.

–

Starting with the pack itself; the pack is a GORUCK ‘Bullet 15’ (made in the USA) and has a capacity of 15 litres which has become my favoured capacity for general every day carry.

I’ve always taken a modular approach to loading my packs so that the load can be easily and quickly transferred to another pack if required and also so that the items can change according to need.

The pack itself is fairly simple in construction being quite plain on the outside except for three horizontal rows of PALS webbing (three rows by six columns) across the lower front and a front zippered pocket.

There is a substantial grab handle on the top and generously padded shoulder straps. Also on the front is a 2”x 3” Velcro panel for morale patches with a reversed American flag stitching detail.

Inside the pack it has a simple slip pocket on the back panel for a hydration bladder or documents. A pass-through for a hydration hose is directly below the grab handle and a simple D ring allows a bladder to be suspended if needed.

The pack opens full clamshell and on the inside of the front panel are two pockets; a small solid pouch at the top, handy for quick access items and a larger mesh pocket directly below. It should be noted that neither of these pockets have much volume of their own so are best suited to thin/slimmer items.

A quick note on the build quality of these packs; believe the hype! They are totally overbuilt and the materials, construction and attention to detail are pretty much flawless.

Moving to the contents starting top middle is a 5.11 UCR IFAK pouch the contents of which will cover most things from major trauma to a paper cut.

Top right is my Anker Soundcore 2 Bluetooth speaker in its travel case.

Directory below that is a black Multicam pouch made by @firefly15_hanks and holds a Victorinox Explorer Plus, antibacterial hand gel and wipes, a knife, fork & spoon set, spare batteries, reading glasses and usually a few snacks for the day.

The Velcro front panel is home to various morale patches that get switched out as and when.

Moving back to the centre and directly below the IFAK is a Muc Off Essentials case that holds a few basic tools including a Leatherman Wave and bit set, Maratac scissors and a small brass ruler.

Bottom left is a Vans pencil case that holds an Anker 10000 mah powerbank, Lightning lead and wall plug plus a couple of other leads, USB3/USB Micro etc.

Right of that is my ever faithful 20 Dollar Bandit ‘Micro Pouch’ wearing a rather nice Mudhorn patch.

It currently contains several plasters, some cash, AAA Streamlight, spare AAA battery, prybar, lighter and a Leatherman PS4 multitool.

Moving right again is a small MCB pouch, again made by Firefly15 Hanks which contains some wired Apple earphones.

Right of that is my long serving LED Lenser P7 which has given many years of reliable service to date.

Moving to the right once again is my Recycled Firefighter notebook cover which currently holds a standard Field Notes notebook (dot grid) with a Zebra stainless steel F-701.

Finally above the notebook are my Soundcore/Anker Liberty Air 2 ear pods in their wireless rechargeable case.

All of the above fits within the pack while still leaving space for an extra layer of clothing, one litre water bottle, snacks and a hat and sunglasses.

More loadouts on packconfig.com/loadouts

[orangameelectronics]

Dive into the Sound: How Waterproof Bluetooth Speaker Subwoofers Elevate Your Music Experience

Dive into a world of unparalleled audio bliss with the immersive power of waterproof Bluetooth speaker subwoofers. Experience your favorite music like never before as the deep, rich bass resonates through the water and elevates your senses. Brand Voice: Cutting-edge and sophisticated Immersive and captivating, these portable speakers allow you to take your music wherever your water adventures may lead. Whether you're relaxing by the pool, exploring the open waters, or having a beach party, these Subwoofers are designed to withstand the elements without compromising on sound quality. Brand Voice: Adventurous and youthful With their advanced waterproof technology, these speakers can be fully submerged, making them perfect companions for snorkeling, swimming, or even showering. Enjoy crystal-clear sound without worrying about water damage. The built-in Bluetooth connectivity lets you effortlessly pair your smartphone or any other Bluetooth-enabled device for seamless music streaming. Brand Voice: Innovative and tech-savvy Indulge in the ultimate audio experience, feeling every beat and pulse of your favorite tracks. With their powerful Subwoofers, these speakers deliver deep, resonant bass that brings your music to life. Whether you're a music aficionado or simply looking to enhance your outdoor activities, these waterproof Bluetooth speaker Subwoofers are a game-changer that will revolutionize the way you listen to music, wherever your adventures take you. 

[florenceandthemachine]

prompt: buck hears eddie talking about him over the car's bluetooth speaker (or the other way around!)

sang so loud, sang so clear on AO3 (2.4k) 

It was safe to say that there was no part of his job that Eddie didn’t like. He loved being part of the community. He loved being able to make a positive change in the worst moments of someone’s life. Hell, he loved helping people in general, and that stretched far beyond the ‘call of duty’; so it was no surprise that when Bobby announced a series of fundraisers that the LAFD were participating in, Eddie was probably the only person who didn’t groan in defeat when Station 6 got to host a carnival while the 118 got stuck with a car wash.

He was excited because it was for charity. Not because it meant he got to have an entire weekend free from fire, free to spend some more time with his kid. That wasn’t it at all.

It also wasn’t because he got to spend some more time with Buck, outside of an assortment of burning buildings. That definitely wasn’t it—because despite what Carla said (and what Abuela said, and what Pepa said, and the looks that Hen shot him) he was an adult who had control over himself and had his...emotions regarding Buck under control.

It wasn’t a crush. He was fine. The fact that he had to go through the Starbucks line again after he got Buck’s order to get his own coffee was purely coincidental.

“Dad, can we play my music?”

“Sure, buddy.”

Eddie idly switched through the radio controls on his truck as he pulled onto the highway, smiling at his son in the rear view mirror as Chris pulled out his phone, working with the accessibility controls easily. The device was still pretty new, and Chris was still getting the hang of it, but after the tsunami Eddie would have bought him one phone for each hand if it meant he would know his son was safe at all times. Paranoia aside, Chris had been elated at cataloguing his life whenever he could—they already had digital albums full of Chris and his school friends, his family, and the things he got to do with Carla while Eddie was stuck at work.

Normally on days like today, Carla would have swung by and picked Chris up from the house, but it was easy enough to push that back an hour or so and have her pick Chris up right from the firehouse when he had all but begged to come in to the 118 and say hi to the team.

And hell, if Eddie got his kid to kick up the cuteness near their tip jar? Eddie wouldn’t complain about that, either.

One of Chris’ favorite albums had wrapped to a close when Eddie pulled off the highway, turning down the volume as they started to approach the 118. The morning was still pretty young, but it looked like they already had a pretty good turnout lined up—there were cars wrapped around the station building, in various stages of drying, with a line pretty steadily moving through the main engine bay. It looked like Bobby had moved the trucks out toward the street for added publicity, meaning the entire floor of the station was filled with cars, suds, and pop-ish music (no doubt, courtesy of Chim).

“Eddie, don’t tell me you actually expect us to wash your truck.” Chim snarked from the stairs, his LAFD tee shirt covered in colorful suds and sticking to his skin, and Eddie only smirked as he shoved a twenty into the donation jar. “Come on now, I’m a paying customer! Are you telling me that you’re gonna turn away someone for a charity drive?”

���No, he isn’t. Eddie, here, gimme the keys.” Eddie beamed as he heard Buck’s voice behind him, sticking his tongue out at Chim in a very mature, grown up way as he helped Chris out of the truck. Reaching back into the drivers seat, he pulled the second coffee out of the holder, the iced drink matching his own save for Buck’s added pumps of sugar—and almost keeled over when he turned around.

Look, if there was one thing that Eddie Diaz knew, it was that life was not fair.

His two tours weren’t fair. His son’s CP wasn’t fair. His marriage with Sharon hadn’t been fair.

But pulling up to the 118, stepping out of his truck, and coming face to face with Buck? Buck, who was clad only in his turnout pants and suspenders, who was dripping wet?

Well, that wasn’t just unfair, that was mean.

“See, Chim, this is why the Diaz’s are my favorite. You gotta step up, man, Eddie brought me my favorite coffee and my favorite Chris.”

Buck was thankfully oblivious as Eddie short circuited, bending down to high five Chris, his face brightening when he saw the second coffee in Eddie’s hands. He pulled the coffee and the keys out of Eddie’s shockingly limp grip, turning to Chim triumphantly as Eddie tried to gather his thoughts. His thoughts, which currently needed gathering, because they were tracing the path a drop of water made as it glided along Buck’s shoulder blades, trailed along to the edge of his torso, resting on a hip that Eddie would very much like to bite, thank you, and—

“Buck, I’ll be giving you an actual niece or nephew! That has to rank better than coffee!”

“Well, first of all, Maddie will be giving me an actual niece or nephew.  Second of all…”

Eddie pulled himself back to realist as Buck and Chim started to bicker, eyes suddenly desperate to look anywhere else before he got distracted again. “Hey, uh, I’m going to set Chris up upstairs, we’ll be down in a second.”

He wasn’t sure if he was more thankful for the easy out or for the distance that he got to put between himself and a half naked Buck, but Eddie was nothing if he wasn’t an idiot—so even as he helped Chris set up some papers around the table at the loft, he still found himself peeking over the railing whenever Buck laughed, or shouted, or did anything that could draw Eddie’s attention away from the here and now as he sipped his coffee.

One of his little dalliances must have taken a little longer than before, because he honestly couldn’t telly ou how much time had passed before he heard Chris speak up.

“Dad’s got a crush on Buck, Dad’s got a crush on Buck...”

Eddie felt his head snap up, his face instantly bright red as he almost choked on his iced coffee. He gasped as he saw Chris hiding behind his cell phone, immediately breaking out into giggles as he pointed his camera back and forth from Eddie to where Buck stood in the engine bay. He was quiet enough, thank fuck, so Eddie didn’t have to do any immediate damage control—just had to save face, doing so with an exaggerated flourish as he easily closed the space between he and Chris, picking his son up playfully with one arm as the other snagged his phone from his hand.

“The lies! The deceit! Betrayed by my own son!”

“Daddy, nooo!”

Eddie found himself laughing as he flopped down on to one of the overstuffed couches in the loft, grinning like a fool as Chris wriggled beside him, his phone still secure in Eddie’s hand, out of Chris’ reach.

“Dad’s got a crush on Buck, Dad’s got a crush on Buck...”

Eddie blinked, looking up as he heard Chris’ words repeated, eyes looking at the loop now playing on his phone. It was a Snapchat—one of the few social apps Eddie allowed on Chris’ phone, after Chris had more or less taught him how to use it (and had promised to send Eddie a few selfies throughout the day).

Chris had done the courtesy of zooming on Buck, bending over to scrub at the rims on Eddie’s truck, and then the camera swung back to Eddie, who... missed his own mouth with his straw, several times, trying to sip from his coffee.

Alright, maybe his crush wasn’t as under control as he thought it was.

“Dad’s got a crush on Buck, Dad’s got a crush on Buck...”

Eddie frowned as his ears twinged, suddenly aware that the sound wasn’t coming from Chris’ phone, the looping audio echoing up to the loft. He put his head next to the phone, trying to tell—were the speakers broken? Was something jammed in a port or whatever?

He turned the volume up, frowning, a little disappointed. He had told Chris how important it was to take care of this things, and if his phone had already been dropped or broken, he would have to—

“DAD’S GOT A CRUSH ON BUCK, DAD’S GOT A CRUSH ON BUCK...”

—he would have to crawl into a hole and die, because that sound wasn’t coming from Chris’ phone, it was coming from Eddie’s truck. Eddie’s truck, which was powered on, and still connected to Chris’ phone from their music this morning.

Eddie’s truck, which thanks to his own idiocy had every speaker blasting, and had a bright red Buck bent over the hood—frozen, like Eddie seemed to be, his face unreadable as he stared up at Eddie in the loft up above the bay. Eddie felt his body go numb as Chris finally stole his phone back, the sound thankfully stopping as he locked his phone.

“Oh fuck.”

“Ooh, you owe a dollar to Carla’s swear jar.”

-

“There’s my number one guy! Chris, how’re you doing?”

Eddie managed to successfully avoid everyone for the better part of an hour—it was easy enough to do, considering they still had a line out the door of people waiting to get their cars scrubbed down by the 118. He felt a small moment of dread spike through his heart as Carla managed to seek them out—he would have a zero chance of hiding if he didn’t have his ‘son-shield’ up.

Eddie managed a small smile as Carla ruffled Chris’ hair, clearing his throat. “Hey, Carla, you brought your van today right?”

“Sure did, what’s up?”

“Oh, nothing. I just need to lie down behind your rear wheels so you can put me out of your misery before you leave.”

“... uh huh.” Carla rose her brow as Chris shoved his papers and markers into his backpack, looking at Eddie in a way that was almost pitying. “Daddy accidentally megaphoned his crush on Buck to the entire station, so he’s been hiding upstairs and helping me draw instead of helping with charities.”

Well, that was one way to put it, though Eddie would have preferred a way that made him feel less of a dick. He winced as he nodded his head, clearing his throat as Carla’s eyes widened. “And that’s why Daddy has to go throw himself into traffic.”

“Well, I would prefer it if you didn’t.” Eddie felt his entire body tense as he heard Buck behind him, only managing a weak wave as Carla whisked Chris off down the stairs—his protests of “but Carla, I wanna listen!” making Eddie go even redder.

At the very least, he wasn’t alone in that boat. Buck was an absolutely delightful shade of pink, and Eddie was fucking distraught to learn that Buck’s blush went all the way down to his chest, because for some reason the other man still hadn’t put on a shirt. Normally, Eddie would have been delighted to see that, but after having his feelings so publicly (even if intentionally) put on blast, all that he wanted was to be swallowed up by the floor.

“Don’t worry, I’d make sure Chim had to scrape me off the pavement, you wouldn’t have to worry about it.” Eddie said, his humor landing a little dark—Buck didn’t laugh, but his smile did grow, and Eddie counted that as a win as he sighed. “Look, Buck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make things weird and I don’t want to—“

“Oh, Eddie, I’m not here to talk about that, I just wanted to get your help scrubbing on the floor.”

Oh. The car wash, right. Eddie felt his stomach drop as he swallowed, processing what Buck had said, nodding his head. Buck wanted to look past it, pretend it hadn’t happened. That was... fine. Eddie hitched a smile onto his face, nodding his head as he looked down the floor, finding the tie of his own boots fascinating. “Yeah, no, you’re right. Sorry I was putting it off, I’ll grab some towels and I can—“

“Actually, you should start washing up with me. I was thinking we could make a bet out of it.”

Eddie looked back up, curiosity outweighing all the weight in his stomach as he tilted his head, trying to get a read on Buck—even if all he could see was that delicious blush, trailing down Buck’s neck and fucking Christ, across his chest. “A bet? Buck, I don’t know if—”

“Whoever gets the most tips has to pay for dinner... tonight? After we’ve dried off?”

Eddie felt his jaw click shut as Buck cut him off again, his brain trying to work a mile a minute as he caught up with what Buck had said.

Because if he didn’t know any better, if sounded like Buck was asking him out on a date.

“Buck, you... you? Me, when... you really... when I...”

“Eddie, will you please just say yes? I was going to ask you an hour ago, but you’ve been hiding very unsuccessfully from me.”

Buck was asking him out to dinner. Buck was asking, him, Eddie Diaz, out to dinner, after Eddie all but humiliated himself. Buck had been waiting since that moment to ask Eddie out to dinner. Oh this, this he could certainly work with.

“So… dinner, huh? You’re on. But if you’re going to be working in just your turnouts, so am I.”

Yeah, he could work with that. And two could play at this game.

(If Carla was laughing when Eddie explained their little bet over the phone later, she was all but howling when Eddie admitted he won, asking if she could watch Chris for a few more hours and for recommendations as to where he could take Buck on their first date—even as Chris shouted “good luck, dad!” over the phone.)

[fxkthatdairy]

The Principal’s Office Part Three ~ Grayson Dolan

Overview: (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N) was the new 5th grade history teacher at The Dolan’s Private academy in New Jersey. She moved from across the country to teach at the school. On the first day, an unexpected visitor stops by her classroom to check in on her. What happened when they fall head over heels for each other? Check out to see.

Warnings: Angst, slight mentions of alcoholism

(Y/N) thought long and hard with her decision and finally responded:

Hey Grayson, of course I’d love to attend dinner with you this Saturday. I’d love to know more about you as well.

She laid in her bed waiting for his response like a high school girl who had just texted her crush that was on the football team. Her phone buzzed: One new message from Grayson Dolan.

Wonderful! I’ll pick you up around 7 Saturday night. I can’t wait, Goodnight (Y/N) see you tomorrow at work :).

(Y/N) plugged her phone in and placed it on the floor beside her bed, which reminded her that she desperately needed to go furniture and grocery shopping. She laid in her bed with her thoughts running rapidly through her head; Was this ethical? What would her mother think? What would her fellow employees think? She didn’t know what would happen but she shut off her thoughts when she finally managed to drift to sleep.

The rest of the week seemed to go by in a blur and now it was Friday afternoon and the school day had just ended. Her first week as a teacher had been beyond her expectations and she was in love with her new job and her students seemed to love her. She was packing everything that she needed to take home for the weekend which was a lot. She had the children take a quiz to see what they already knew and she had planned to take them home to grade them. So on top of her purse, she carried her suitcase that had her papers in. She shut her class door and locked it and when she turned around she care in contact with a sturdy chest.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there.” She apologized to Grayson who she had just accidentally ran into.

“It’s fine. Here let me help you to your car. It’s late and dark outside and I don’t trust some of the people that walk around here.” He said and took her suitcase from her hands and carried it out with her following behind him. He walked her to her car and she opened her trunk from her key fob. She didn’t realize how late it was until she checked her watch. It was 6:30 and school got out 2 hours ago. The sun had set and the parking lot was extremely dark and it seemed that Grayson and her self were the last two people there.

“Thank you so much for walking me out to my car and helping with my suitcase. Have a great night Grayson. I’ll see you tomorrow.” (Y/N) said with a smile as she got in her car. She waved at Grayson as she passed his truck in the parking lot. She got home and took a shower. She then sat up her computer on her island and began furniture shopping online. She purchased a leather “L” shaped couch, a recliner, a TV stand with a cabinet attached, she bought a dining room table with chairs, she also bought a TV stand for her room and some dressers and night stands. She knew the money wasn’t a problem, her father had left a shit ton of money in her name and that was the only god thing he ever did in her life. The man who was her father had left her mother shortly after (Y/N) was born entering periodically throughout (Y/N) life. He was an extreme alcoholic who beat his wife and disregarded his children. The bastard died last year after being shot by some man that her dad pissed off. Her father had left her brother, her sister, and her almost 5 million dollars,a piece, what he called an apology for his past mistakes. Nothing would ever make up for the trouble her father put her family through.

After (Y/N) ordered her furniture, she ordered a pizza to be delivered to her house for dinner. She also did a load of laundry and cleaned up her floors a little bit. The pizza man delivered the pizza and (Y/N) are it before taking a relaxing shower. She shaved her legs and washed her hair and body before getting out. She braided her hair, through on a silk teddy night gown and applied lotion to her legs. She plugged her phone in and laid down. She sat up her laptop and watched Dirty Dancing before falling asleep. She couldn’t wait until her TV stand came in and she could watch the actual TV.

(Y/N) woke up around 9:00 the next morning. It felt relaxing not having to get up at 5:30 to get ready for work. She got up and slid on a pair of sweatpants and a loose fitting t-shirt. She slide on a pair of white converses and grabbed her purse. She decided she was going to head to the store to finally get her some groceries so that her breakfast, lunch, and dinner wouldn’t have to come from a fast food restaurant. She got in her car and drove to the nearest market. She grabbed a variety of foods from vegetables, fruits, meats, breakfast foods, some ice creams, personal items such as tampons, pads, deodorant, shampoo, conditioner, hair sprays, she also bought a new plant that was on clearance. It was a little cactus that reminded her of home. Once she paid and put the groceries in the car she headed to the Hearst Dunkin Donuts and got herself an iced coffee and a bag of sprinkled donut holes. She then headed home and unloaded her groceries, putting them in the correct place. By the time she was done putting away all of her groceries, it was only 12:00. She decided to take a quick hour nap, watch a few quick episodes of her favorite show and by the time she watched the last episode it was 5:00, so she decided to start getting ready for her dinner date. She plugged her phone in to charge and hooked up her phone to her Bluetooth speaker to listen to music as she got ready. She unbraided her hair and she styled it into a cute curly ponytail and hair sprayed it done. She did a little makeup not too much because she didn’t want to look fake on her date. The makeup she did wear was a very sheer foundation, she filled in her brows, highlighted her face, did a simple nude eyeshadow look, winged liner, mascara, and a pretty nude pink lip shade. She then searched her closet looking for the perfect outfit. She settled for a black off the shoulder top and a pair of dark jeans with a pair of black heel. She but on some simple jewelry and by the time she was done it was 6:45.

She had 15 minutes left before Grayson said he was going to be here so she made sure she had her purse and phone. It was 6:55 when her door bell rang and she answered the door. Grayson stood there with a bouquet of a mixture of sunflowers and roses. They were her favorites. He was wearing a white button up with some dark jeans and a leather jacket.

“I brought you some flowers. I saw them in some of you pictures and assumed they were your favorites. I hope you like them.” He said and handed them to you.

“I absolutely love them. They remind me of home. Thank you so much. Let me put them in a vase real quick. Come on in. Sorry it’s still empty. I just bought some new furniture.” (Y/N) said and walked into her kitchen to grab a vase. She placed the flowers in the vase and added some water in the vase and placed them in the middle of the kitchen island.

“They look absolutely beautiful. Thank you again.” She said as she grabbed her purse.

“You’re welcome. Let’s head there do we can get our reservations.” He said and took her hand. She locked the door of her house before walking with Grayson to his car. His car was beautiful actually. It wasn’t the normal truck he drove around. It was a baby blue Porche. Grayson held her hand all the way to the car and he opened the door for her and waited for to get in and shut her door. He got in on the drivers side and buckled in and started the car. (Y/N) buckled in and placed her purse in the floor board and crossed her legs. In the background faintly played some Kid Cudi music.

“You’re a fan of Cudi too?” She asked as she looked out the window.

“Yeah, I’ve liked his music since I was a teen. I didn’t expect you to like Cudi.” He said with a smile. Damn his dream girl really was real.

“He’s one of the few artists of today’s music that I’ll listen too. Other than that it’s all 80’s music for me.” She said with a laugh and smile. She could picture hours worth of conversations between the two. She didn’t even realize that they had pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. Grayson parked the car and ran around to open the door for her. She got out and grabbed her purse. Grayson linked hands with her and walked into the restaurant.

“Welcome to Juliane’s, how can I help you.” The waitress asked as the two of them came in.

“Reservations for Dolan please.” Grayson said and the lady nodded and grabbed two menus and silverware and led us to the back where there was a nicely set up booth. (Y/N) sat on one side and Grayson sat on the other.

“May I get you two anything to drink?” She asked.

“Do you drink wine? If so what kind?” Grayson asked (Y/N) quickly.

“A little bit and red wine.” She said.

“Two glasses of your finest red wine please?” He asked and the lady nodded and went to get the drinks. (Y/N) looked through the menu and found what she wanted.

“So tell me more about yourself (Y/N). You have my undivided attention.” He said and sipped on his wine.

“Well I was born and raised in a small town in Oklahoma. I have an older sister named Jaclyn and an older brother named Trenton. I’m the baby of my family, when growing up it was just my mom, my sibling and I. As a child, I was always fascinated by history and had my mom make road trips through historical towns so that I could read and learn. I went to college at Oklahoma University on a full scholarship ride. I have two tattoos: one on my back and that’s a sunflower and I have a butterfly on my ribs. My favorite color is yellow and I have a fascination with everything 70’s,80’s, and 90’s. That’s about the general outline on myself. What about you Grayson?” She said with a smile.

“Well I was born and raised here in New Jersey. I have a twin brother named Ethan and an older sister named Cameron. My father and my mother raised us and my father passed away a few years ago to cancer and left my brother and I in charge of the schools. My brother took the high school and I took up the other. My sister has an art degree and sometimes comes and teaches at the school but she has her own studio downtown. My mother is a hair stylist. I’m allergic to almost every single animal except birds, fish, and some reptiles. I have too many tattoos to count and my favorite color is green. If you don’t mind me asking, where is your dad?” He said.

“I’m sorry about your dad. My dad was murdered last year but I didn’t know him very well. He wasn’t really in my life and when he was it was good.” She said. The lady came and took their orders and they continued looking.

“Are you in any relationship?” He asked curiously.

“Nope and never have been. It’s always been education with me.” She said and sipped on her wine.

“I haven’t been in one for a while. I told myself that I was going to wait till I found the perfect one for me.” He said. What she didn’t know was the Grayson thought that was her. The waitress brought there food back and they made small talk while eating. When it came time for them to get ready to leave (Y/N) began pulling out her wallet to pay. Before she could even get her card Grayson had already given the lady his card.

“Don’t worry about it (Y/n). It’s my treat.” He said with his breathtaking smile.

“Thank you so much tonight. I’ve really enjoyed this.” She said with a smile as the lady brought back Grayson’s card. (Y/N) and Grayson grabbed their things and got up and left. As they were sitting in the car Grayson asked, “Do you mind if I take you somewhere? It’s a surprise so you have to trust me.”

“I trust you Grayson. I have nothing else to do tonight, I’m all yours.” She said with a smile. Twenty minutes later they pulled into an empty parking lot near the beach. There was a long boardwalk with a gorgeous lighthouse at the end of the boardwalk. He opened the door for her and took her hand. By now the sun had set and the wind started picking up and she shivered. Grayson slipped off his jacket and placed it on her arms.

“Thank you.” She said and he took her hand and began waking down the boardwalk. The waves crashed against the shore and it sounded beautiful. The lights along the boardwalk were gorgeous. They walked to the end of the boardwalk and she leaned against the rail staring out into the ocean.

“It’s beautiful here.” She said with a smile.

“You’re even more beautiful.” Grayson said with a smile and turned her around to face him. His hands were rested gently on her waist and he leaned down and gently kissed her. Her heart and stomach exploded in butterflies. He pulled back and spoke, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over m-“ before he could finish his sentence she kissed him to shut him up.

“Don’t apologize Grayson. I enjoyed it. I enjoy you. You make me feel like I’m a new person.” She said with a smile and placed her hand on his chest.

“Good because I’m not letting you go. You’re my one I just know it.” He said with a smile and leaned down to kiss her again.

Grayson walked her back to his car and decided to take her home since it was now almost 10:00. He walked her up to her front door.

“I’ll see you when your furniture comes in so that I can help. I’ll also bring my brother so you can meet him and he can help. I enjoyed tonight (Y/N). I can’t wait till our next date out.” He said with a smile and leaned down and pecked her lips.

“Thank you for tonight Grayson. I enjoyed it too. I’ll text you tomorrow when the items get shipped in. Text me when you get home please so that I know you made it home safe please.” She said as he pulled away. She took off his jacket and handed it back so that he wasn’t cold. She pecked his lips one last time and shut the door. As soon as the door shut and he was in his car, she freaked out. Her boss was in love with her and she was in love with him. He KISSED her. She was so whipped over him it wasn’t funny. She hopes this doesn’t affect her job and that she isn’t going to be judged even though there are going to be those people she didn’t care at the moment. She walked to her bathroom and wiped her makeup off and washed her face as well as brushed her teeth. She changed into her pajamas and brushed out her hair. She laid down in bed and waited for Grayson to text her that he was home safe and then as soon as he texted her that she fell asleep reliving her night over and over in her head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Here is part three 😊 I was able to write this today because I was trapped in a car for 8 hours and had time to write. I hope you guys enjoy and part four will be out in a few days 🙂 if you guys have any requests, concepts, or blurbs you are welcome to send them to me. Also if you would like to be added to the tag list let me know 😊💛

Tags: @pineappledols @frickin-bats @graysavant @sweet-dolans

[arshinquarantine]

online shopping

To be honest, I don't really care for online shopping. A million little neurons fire off in my brain when I give someone money and they give me an object instantly. Who I was with, how I looked when I first tried it on, what I felt when I first tasted it, how much of a bargain it was, the feel of seams on my fingers or the weight of deckled pages in my hands, the caution I threw to the winds or the impulse that I permitted to seize me all combine in a few seconds to inject one simple emotion into my simple brain: buying shit feels good. Until recently, online shopping was utterly devoid of any positive emotion for me. I don't like computers, and they particularly irk me when they ask me to punch my credit card number or (worse) save it. I don't like waiting for boxes to arrive or dealing with going to the post office to pick them up or the endless amounts of recycling I'm going to have to do. I also absolutely do not have the time or the will or the discipline to return roughly half of what I buy because I'm picky and women's sizing for anything is a hot mess, so piles of unwanted shit pile up in my tiny apartment taking up valuable real estate. So I generally go out of my way to avoid the whole business of it all. 

For the first few months of the quarantine, I lived like a purist, buying only what I absolutely needed to online. Unfortunately for me, I was living in an unfurnished apartment (the sum total of the furniture I owned was a mattress, a shitty dollar walmart desk, and a shittier dollar walmart chair) so I actually needed to buy a lot of stuff and I dragged my feet miserably through it all. It took me weeks to pick out basic white Crate & Barrel plates for my kitchen, another few months before I committed to a bookshelf that held only about a third of the books I own, and far too long to buy a bed frame. The worst crime of all was my sofa; when I think about how many months I lived with only my mattress or my floor to sit on, I genuinely wonder how far my propensity for masochism can truly go.  Ordering my groceries online was simply out of the question, I remained staunchly devoted to buying them in store even when I had to wait 40 minutes in line for my turn.

Soon, the early alarming but novel weeks of covid gave way to the later mundane, claustrophobic ones. After a few weeks of regularly working out, I realized that there was no world for me to emerge into with my newer, hotter body. The comfort I got from my group chats and zoom hangouts soon petered out, and I returned to cooking my usual 20 minute weeknight meals. Stuck in a new apartment, in a new city, without a car (I can't even drive so this is actually moot tbh) my world quietly shrunk to the 600 odd square feet of hastily, partially furnished space I could call my own (now shared with a sibling) and a few blocks in either direction. I wore the same clothes, called the same people, walked the same walk, shopped at the same Shoppers, made the same complaints and wallowed in the same worries, and then I woke up and I did it all over again.

And then I decided that it was time for something new, and I've been searching for newness ever since. A "resurfacing" night cream that promised to make my skin brighter. A houndstooth blazer from an online vintage store that fit like it was tailored for me. A monstera plant that unfurled leaf after leaf under my distracted care before I finally succeeded in killing it. A bluetooth speaker to fill my home with the sound of qawwalis my dad taught me to love. The boxes would arrive days, sometimes weeks after I make the actual purchase, feeling more like a gift from an unknown benefactor than something I furtively paid for. I used to dislike online shopping for its delayed gratification, but soon began to covet it for exactly that reason, like the steady cadence of a few minutes of excitement made me feel like I was accomplishing the impossible task of feeling an emotion. A cheap rug. An expensive sofa. Baking equipment. Painting equipment. Exercise equipment. Books about best friendship, books about love, about a dying earth and dying mothers, set in Syria and Detroit, Naples and Busan, some devoured, some discarded, all read in hot pursuit of staving off how utterly dead I felt on the inside. Each box that landed on my doorstep neatly filled a hole in my life, a void that never seemed to shrink.

It felt reckless and frivolous—childish even—to allow myself to keep getting things that would make me happy. It contradicted everything I wanted to believe about myself: that I was unaffected by anything money could buy, able to achieve complete inner peace by simply "thinking good thoughts", and minimalist to my core. How positively pathetic of me, I'd think, to need a "thing" or an "item" to be able to feel happiness. Even as I searched within myself for gratitude at my good fortune, my good health, I often came up empty, and the answers to all my questions seemed for lie, for however brief a moment, in whatever Instagram thought I should buy that week, silently delivered in recyclable packaging, with a return label and a promise of brief delight.

Most people my age, my peers haven't lived through an event as seismic as this. The idea that life being irreversibly changed even after this, that it already has changed feels alien to me, a square peg trying to jam itself into the round hold where my brain used to be. Life as it used to be feels right around the corner, just a week away, just a month away, just a season away, and soon, I tell myself, I will get back the normalcy of buying four americanos in three hours to keep my internet access at the cafe I've been working at, the fun in an afternoon spent mindlessly window shopping, the stupid joy in dancing the night away in a sweet and sticky club, the relief in resting my head against the shoulder of a friend, the discomfort of getting on the subway at rush hour, the ordeal of a 15 hour flight home to see my little sister.

I lost family members this year, and I spend my weekends flitting between my numb grief and a website that sells silk pyjama sets. Sometimes, I don't speak to my father for days, afraid that he might see right through my false cheer. Sending him pictures of the first snow, my meals and paintings seems enough to me. Lately I've been waking up from dreams that range from bad to fully qualified nightmares about my mom's health. I haven't seen her in nineteen months. I ruminate over where I want to live, if I want children, who I want them with, new questions that have cropped up and firmly planted themselves on my brain. I find myself rejecting the companionship of the friends on my phone. I want them here in Toronto, so we can laugh at the past, and marvel at the present, our warm bodies pressed against one another. And I crave the thrill of deep conversation with new people who remain interesting to me for only as long as I know nothing about them. Loneliness seems to run like a thread throughout everyone's twenties, I suppose, and I'm unable to tease out where the disorientation of being 24 ends and the isolation of living in a pandemic begins. But tangled up, they are stronger together and frighten me everyday, and I surround myself with boxes and yet more boxes to ward them off.

[bestsoftblog]

16 Best Gaming Laptop for 1500 USD for beginners & pro gamers

Are you looking for the best gaming laptop for 1500 USD with powerful features such as attractive displays, processors, 4GB graphics cards, USB 3.0 capabilities, high resolutions and a handful of others you can expect from gaming laptops under $1500.

At the price point of $1500 and with the growing laptop manufactures and brands in the market, you can find gaming laptops that are easily accessible and affordable for newbies and pro gamers.

Best Gaming Laptop for 1500 USD Dollars

If you’re in a hurry and still can’t figure out which gaming laptop is best for you, I’ve you covered.

Here are my pop picks and recommendation for the best gaming laptops under $1500 that is a perfect match for you.

Razer Blade Pro 17 — Best budget gaming laptop 2019 & 2020

HP OMEN 15 Gaming Laptop — Best gaming Laptop 2020

Dell G5 15 Gaming laptop 9th Gen Intel Core — Best gaming laptop under 1500 2020

Razer Blade 15 i7 GTX 1660 Ti — World’s Smallest Best Gaming Laptop under $1500 dollars 2019 & 2020

HP OMEN CB0070NR i7 RTX 2060 (6GB) 17-Inch Gaming Laptop — Best Gaming Laptop under $1500 2019 & 2020 (17-CB0070nr, shadow Black)

Acer Predator Helios 300 i7 GTX 1660 Ti Gaming laptop — Best Gaming Laptop Under $1500 Reddit Rated

ASUS ROG Strix Hero II gaming laptop — Best gaming laptops under 1500 USD dollars — Our Top Picks

Dell Inspiron 8th Gen Intel i7 — Best gaming laptop under $ 1000

ASUS ROG Strix GL531GT 15-Inch Gaming Laptop — Best Affordable gaming laptop under 1500 dollars

Dell G3 15 notebook laptop — Best gaming laptops under $1500

ASUS ROG Strix Scar III Gaming Laptop — Best Gaming laptop with the Best cooling system

ASUS ROG Zephyrus thin & light gaming laptop, 15.6 “i7 GTX 1080 — Best cheap laptops good for gaming

ASUS GL503VS-DH74ROG Strix 15.6” Scar Edition Gaming laptop

CUK MS GS63 Stealth Gamer Notebook Gaming Laptop Computer ($1,119.99)

Alienware AW15R3–5246SLV-PUS 15.6” Gaming laptop- Best gaming laptop for under $1500

Acer Aspire 5 slim laptop 15.6 inches FHD IPS display, 8th Gen Intel core i5–8265U, 8GB DDR4, 256GB SSD, fingerprint Reader, windows 10 Home A515–54–51DJ

What is The Best Gaming Laptop for 1500 USD?

I’ve hundreds of reviews for each of these laptops and have focused on gaming being a primary aspect for selection and modern requirement in a laptop as well.

1. Razer Blade Pro 17– Best budget gaming laptop 2019 & 2020

The Razer Blade Pro 17 offers beefy components in a slim chassis that is ideal for content creators and gamers.

Razer’s latest Blade Pro 17 provides a glimpse of blockbuster visuals into the future of gaming laptops.

The Razer Blade Pro 17 gaming laptops have a 17.3 inch 4k touch screen with a 120Hz up to 240Hz upgradable refresh rate, so you can play games with no screen tearing.

While the Razer Blade Pro 17 looks stunning with excellent performance, it also comes with different price points based on feature options you chose .

Features

Ultra low profile mechanical keyboard

Bluetooth 5.0 wireless technology

THX certified mobile device for audio and immersive visual experience

32GB memory

Overclocked Quad core 7th gen Intel core i7 processor

17.3 inches 4k UHD G SYNC touchscreen display with 100 percent Adobe RGB color space coverage.

VR ready with NVIDIA GeForce GTX 1080 graphics.

Ability to connect to Display port, USB, PCI Express and Thunderbolt devices.

NVIDIA GeForce GTX 1080 computer Desktop class graphics

4.6 GHz processor speed

Don’t Miss: Best Gaming Mouse for a Mac

Pros

Slim design

Sorted upgradable options

Excellent performance

High quality superior trackpad that is responsive

Great battery life

Strong HD gaming performance

144Hz display

Customizable per-key backlighting

Excellent heat management

Offers computer desktop-grade gaming performance in a portable package

Choose from available feature options at different price point

Lots of ports

Fantastic cooling

Good speakers

Delightful keyboard

Razer Blade Pro 17 is a gaming laptop for serious pro gamers

Runs on window 10 which is the biggest gaming platform

Cons

Pricey

No core i9 options

2. HP OMEN 15 Gaming Laptop — Best gaming Laptop 2020

The HP OMEN 15 Gaming Laptop is the best high-end gaming laptops in the OMEN series of laptops that comes with newest RTX GPUs for great gaming performance experience.

It offers 240Hz refresh-rate display for a smooth gaming and buttery animations.

Its updated design can be configured with the newest 9th Gen Intel Core CPUs and Nvidia’s RTX GPUs.

This gaming laptop is powered by the latest Intel core i7–9750H chipset for excellent mainstream gaming performance and power efficiency.

What’s interesting for multitasking, the laptop comes with 16GB of RAM and 512 GB for storage for quick file transfer.

Features

9th Generation Intel (R) Core (TM) i7–9750 i7–9750H Super-fast processor.

512 GB PCle(R) NVMe(TM) M.2 solid state drive chip set Intel HM 370 storage

Play the latest games including Fortnite, Overwatch, and PUBG

16GB DDR4–2666 SDRAM memory

Upgradable with 2 accessible memory slots

Cutting –edge gaming performance

OMEN command center with included software to control overclocking settings

15.6 inch diagonal FHD IPS anti-glare micro-edge WLED- backlit display (1920 x 1080) with 144 Hz refresh rate.

Hyper realistic graphics powered by NVIDIA (R) GeForce (R) RTX 2070 with Max — Q design

8GB GDDR6 dedicated

Up to 5 hours battery life

Windows 10 home 64 bit operating system

5. 1lbs weight

Check out: 4 Best Gaming Laptop for under 1000 USD Dollars in 2020

Pros

HP OMEN 15 gaming laptop provides excellent hardware with exceptional features.

It an ideal and perfect gaming laptop under $1500

240Hz refresh-rate display offers animations and gaming buttery performance and smoothness.

It can be configured with the newest Nvidia’s RTX GPUs and 9th Gen Intel Core CPUs.

HP Omen 15 gaming laptop can run fortnite games

Portable and punchy gaming machine.

Great starting prices

Superb 144Hz screen

Masses of outputs

Snazzy full-sized keyboard design

USB-Type C charging

Supreme gaming performance

Anti-ghosting support

Smooth gameplay

Well-built and handy gaming laptop for beginner and pro gamers

Decently loud stereo speakers

Cons

Webcam quality can be improved

Thermal performance low

3. Dell G5 15 Gaming laptop 9th Gen Intel Core — Best gaming laptop under 1500 2020

The Dell G5 15 9th Gen gaming laptop delivers excellent combo of in-game frame rates, great value, next-gen features and powerful battery life.

This gaming laptop is built with 15-inch screen with a 24mm design, powerful NVIDIA graphics and memory and 9th Gen Intel core, and a narrow bezel display.

The design has no aesthetic fancy but a mix of plastic and metal that feel extremely robust and durable.

The laptop comes with a solid chrome-backlit keyboard and is portable

If you’re a gamer that appreciates a premium — feeling device and a well built gaming laptops, then Dell G5 15 gaming laptop offers properly smooth frame rates at high settings for your latest games.

With a 10 hours powerful battery life makes this gaming G5 a useful computing device and transportable gaming notebook rig.

Features

16 GB DDR4 2666MHZ RAM

Elegant sleek design

Dual-fan cooling system with advanced thermal design

9th Gen Intel core i7–9750h (12MB Cache, up to 4.5 GHz, 6 Cores)

15.6 inch FHD (1920 x 1080) Anti-Glare LED backlight Non-touch narrow border IPS display

Runs on windows 10 home operating system (OS)

NVIDIA GeForce GTX 1650 with 4GB GDDR5

Pros

Great battery life

Excellent gaming performance

The balanced feature set is perfectly standard

720p camera

8.6 pounds weight

5 GHz radio frequency wireless type

Graphics coprocessor: NVIDIA GeForce GTX 1050 Ti

Chipset Brand: NVIDIA GeForce GTX 1650

Cons

IPS panel cab be improved

4. Razer Blade 15 i7 GTX 1660 Ti — World’s Smallest Best Gaming Laptop under $1500 dollars 2019 & 2020

Razer Blade 15 i7 GTX 1660 Ti is the world’s smallest best gaming laptop that is super incredibly fast and provides pro gamers (users) a competitive advantage in high-FPS games

This fast gaming laptop features NVIDIA GeForce graphics, 9th Gen Intel core i7 processors, and up to 300Hz FHD matte display.

Based on feature options you select, its price ranges from $1599.99 to USD$3,299.99 with a base clock speed that can boost up to 4.5 GHz.

The Razer Blade 15 GTX 1660 Ti gaming laptop is faster than any other Blade 15 GTX laptop model and comes with excellent raw GPU horsepower to outperform the fastest Blade 15 Pascal configurations.

It offers strong gaming performance and long battery life in an attractive premium chassis.

The Razer Blade 15 has the following model styles to choose from at different price point

GTX 1660Ti | FHD 144Hz | 256 GB SSD + 1TB HDD

GTX 1660Ti | FHD 60Hz | 128GB SSD + 1TB HDD

RTX 2060 | FHD 144Hz | 512GB SSD

Features

Biometric security for instant facial authentication and unlock with integral webcam & IR sensor

Excellent display for games play or work

144Hz refresh rate is perfect for intense gaming sessions and offers stunning visuals

Zero compromise powerhouse built for gaming

Customizable RGB lighting

USB connectivity technology

Future proof design supports dual-channel memory upgradeability

15.6” FHD 144Hz matte display, 16GB RAM 512GB SSD

Pros

Comes with lots of ports

Attractive aluminum chassis

Strong overall performance for intense gaming session

Impressive battery life

Then display bezels

Establishes dominance at high settings

Enables seamless multitasking and smooth game play

Its 256GB SDD & 1TB hard drive combine massive storage with rapid start-up time.

Runs on windows 10 operating system

Cons

Pricey

Keyboard is single-zone RGB only

5. HP OMEN CB0070NR i7 RTX 2060 (6GB) 17-Inch Gaming Laptop — Best Gaming Laptop under $1500 2019 & 2020 (17-CB0070nr, shadow Black)

The HP Omen CB0070NR i7 RTX 2060 17-inch gaming laptop is a capable gaming laptop that comes with tons of performance at an affordable price under $1500 dollars.

The NVIDIA GeForce RTX 2060 graphics card delivers fine-textured, realistic visuals on the 17.3 inch full HD display for excellent gaming.

Its 512GB SSD minimizes load times and is capable of delivery excellent battery performance of up to 5 hours and 30 minutes mixed usage. Interestingly, Omen by HP has a video play back battery life of up to 3 hours and 15 minutes with HP wide vision HD camera (webcam) with integrated dual array digital microphone.

Features

Desktop–grade power in a portable laptop with realistic graphics

Super fast processor 9th generation Intel(r)

Tons of ports for headphone/microphone, combo, media card reader

Cutting-edge gaming performance enables you to play the latest games including overwatch, PUBG and fortnite.

Bios recovery and protection automatically checks and protects against unauthorized access, pc system health and recover itself & fix boot-up issues.

Omen command center software gives you great performance and control over CPU settings

Easy to upgrade storage and memory with 2 accessible memory slots and fast file transfer.

Pros

RTX graphics offer excellent performance boost

Decent keyboard

Strong CPU and gaming performance

Affordable price

Super clear and bright 144Hz display screen

Best gaming laptop at that reasonable price

Slimmer, sophisticated chassis and lightweight gaming laptop

Cons

Subpar battery life

No lighting per key

6. Acer Predator Helios 300 i7 GTX 1660 Ti Gaming laptop — Best Gaming Laptop Under $1500 Reddit Rated

The Acer Predator Helios 300 offers excellent gaming performance with its overclockable graphics chip and 144Hz display at a cheap price at the push of a button.

This laptop is built for a great gaming experience and for gamers on a budget.

The Helios 300 144Hz panel and 15.6 inch IPS display that resolve at 1920 x 1080 deliver excellent value without skimping on features or build quality. It remains a top pick among entry-level gaming laptops.

Features

Up to 7 hours of battery life

9th generation Intel core i7 9750H6 core processor (up to 4.5 GHz)

Runs on Windows 10 home 64 bit

15.6 inches full HD (1920 x 1080) wide screen LED backlight IPS Display

16 GB DDR4 2666 MHz memory

Backlight keyboard

NVIDIA GeForce GTX 1660 Ti Graphics with 6GB of dedicated GDDRG VRAM

Pros

Easy to upgrade

Strong performance at affordable price point

Two year warranty

Great price for a GTX 1660 Ti

Relatively long battery life

Powerful gaming notebook for a deal

Full keyboard with pad utilizing red backlighting & red WASD keys

Excellent touch pad

Cons

Display tends toward being on the dim side

7. ASUS ROG Strix Hero II gaming laptop — Best gaming laptops under 1500 USD dollars — Our Top Picks

ASUS ROG Strix Hero II gaming laptop is a great laptop with stylish and lightweight black chassis

It is powered by the 8th gen Intel core i7 processor and 144Hz 3ms 15.6”1220 x 1080 IPS Type display

It’s 15.6 inch full display with 144Hz refresh rate offers gamers a clear and vivid, bright display for gaming.

This laptop device is a perfect blend of great configuration for gaming and the graphics is powered by an NVIDIA GeForce RTX 2060 graphics card with a dedicated 6 GB memory.

Its pro gamers and beginner most favorite gaming laptop in the $1500 price range.

ASUS ROG strix Hero II is a sleek gaming laptop that has robust power gaming with its sharp 144-Hz panel and intense speakers. It delivers excellent graphics, powerful overall performance and good battery life.

Features

Weights: 5.2lbs

Up to 5 hours battery life

RAM: 16GB DDR 4 RAM

512GB PCle NVMe SSD storage

Display: 15.6 — inch full HD 144Hz 3ms refresh –rate IPS display with 1920 x 1080 screen resolution

Runs on windows 10 home 64 bit OS

Turbo up to 4.1 GHZ

Pros

Decent battery life

Sleek design and build is stylish

Solid speakers that are awesome

Excellent keyboard

Smooth vivid 144-Hz panel

Excellent performance and graphics

Decent webcam

Cons

Bottom may run hot at long hours gaming session

8. Dell Inspiron 8th Gen Intel i7 — Best gaming laptop under $ 1000

The Dell Inspiron 15 5000 laptop computer core i7–8550U, 128GB SSD + 1TB HOD, 8GB, RAM, Backlit keyboard is an excellent gaming laptop powered by (NVIDIA GeForce MX250) technology.

This Dell Inspiron gaming laptop features 15.6”screen display that provides full HD images.

It runs on windows 10 home and includes 8GB memory, a 1TB HDD and 128GB SSD.

Features

Runs on windows 10 home

8th Generation Intel Core i7 8565 (6MB Cache, up to 4.6GHz)

15.6-inch F HD (1920 x 1080) LED IPS Backlight display

16GB DDR4 2666 MHz RAM

128GB M.2 PCle NVMe SSD + 1TB 5400 RPM HDD

Pros

Comes with built-in HD webcam that features a widescreen display & a dual digital microphone array

Wireless technology for cable-free networking

Bluetooth 4.1 wireless technology offers short-range wireless data transfers with speakers, printer and phones

Upgradable up to 32GB memory from 8GB memory available

Powered by 8th Gen providing confidence with multitasking.

Stores lot of games, videos and songs with its 1TB hardware

Attractive budget gaming laptop with excellent graphics performance.

Make video calls or record videos without external webcam

Offers smooth, versatile PC experience and gaming performance

Solid performance and affordable

Premium casing

Cons

Bland design and display could be improved

Subpar trackpad precision.

9. ASUS ROG Strix GL531GT 15-Inch Gaming Laptop — Best Affordable gaming laptop under 1500 dollars

ASUS ROG Strix GL531GT 15-inch gaming laptop is designed for reliable performance; premium look focuses on delivering multi-purpose features to handle graphics intensive games at affordable price.

The laptop has a 15.6 inch full HD IPS display and AURA sync system with customizable RGB lighting.

With 1TB of speedy solid state drive, ASUS gaming laptop provides huge storage space for all of your gaming files.

Its graphics is powered by the 4GB of NVIDIA GeForce GTX 1650 graphics card.

Features

5.2 lbs weight

16GB DDR4 2666MHz RAM

Up to 5 hours battery life

Windows 10 home 64 bit OS

NVIDIA GeForce GTX 1650 4GB DDRS Graphics VRAM

15.6-inch full HD IPS display

Pros

Packed in a well power built chassis

Excellent thermal efficiency

Good battery life

ROG keystone is neat

Strong graphics and excellent performance

Smooth display

Decent speakers

Cons

Battery could be improved

10. Dell G3 15 Notebook Laptop — Best Gaming Laptops under $1500

The Dell G3 gaming laptop 15.6”FHD 8th Gen Intel i5 features high performance graphics, latest Intel processors and optimal cooling for intensive gameplay.

This budget gaming laptop delivers strong benchmarks and decent battery life, no flashing LED patterns and its 15.6inch IPS technology display boasts impressive design angles.

The notebook laptop comes with Chiclet style keyboard, trackpad, webcam, speakers and with a solid selection of ports.

If you want to save some money on your next gaming laptop, the Dell G3 15 offers you a gaming experience at affordable pricing.

Features

Runs on windows 10 operating system

Up to 4.1 gigahertz w/Turbo Boost

8th Generation Intel Core i5 8300H processor

8 GB 2666 megahertz DDR4

15.6 inch FHD (1920 x 1080) IPS Anti Glare

LED Backlit Display

256GB (SSD)

NVIDIA GeForce GTX 1050 Graphics Coprocessor

1 Lithium ion battery included.

Pros

Affordable

Great performance & graphics

Great gaming software

Good battery life

Great spill-resistant

Keyboard with full size backlit

Decent audio

Stylish interior

Attractive design

Solid GTX 1050 Ti gaming visuals

Impressive CPU Performance for a budget

Cons

No USB-C

Flimsy build

Bland design

Poor and dull display

No gaming utilities

Sub 60fps frame rates for some graphically intense games

11. ASUS ROG Strix Scar III Gaming Laptop — Best Gaming laptop with the Best cooling system

The ASUS ROG Strix Scar III offers a smooth 240-Hz display, boasts of strong performance and excellent battery life for gaming sessions.

This gaming laptop is engineered to compete at top tier of windows 10 Pro gaming with an intelligent cooling system that unleashes the great power of the 9th Gen Intel core CPU & GeForce RTX graphics.

The ASUS ROG Strix Scar III gaming laptop is world’s fastest 240Hz/3ms laptop display that lets pro gamers & beginners play at the speed of pro gaming.

Features

Rog intelligent coding thermal system in dual 12v fans & adjustable fan modes

Anti-dust technology

Triple radiators

Connectivity technology includes Ethernet, USB, Wi-Fi, HDMI and lot of number of ports

NVIDIA GeForce RTX 2070 8 GB GDDR6.

16GB DDR4 2666MHz RAM

1TB PCle NVMe SSD

Runs on windows 10 home

Gigabit wave 2 wi-Fi 5 (802 IIAC)

9th Gen Intel Core i7–950h processor

1 Lithium Polymer Battery included

Weight 5.67 pounds

15.6 inches screen size

240Hz 15.6” 1920 x 1080 IPS type display

Pros

Runs old & new games excellently

Good repairs and maintenance options

Responsive & comfortable keyboard

Good battery life

ROG keystone is neat

Eye-catching RGB lighting

Shadow drive and keystone extremely cool

Smooth 240Hz refresh rate

Aggressive new design build

Supreme CPU speeds

Strong performance and graphics

Decent speakers

Cons

Thick chassis

Now webcam

No thunderbolt 3

Single channel RAM

12. ASUS ROG Zephyrus Thin & Light Gaming Laptop, 15.6“ i7 GTX 1080 — Best Cheap Laptops Good for Gaming

The ASUS ROG Zephyrus thin & light gaming laptop is a revolutionary gaming laptop engineered with innovation being thinner than precious ROG computer laptops.

It is designed to compete with high-end gaming computer desktops and comes powered with NVIDIA GeForce GTX 1080 graphics with Max-Q design and a 7th Generation Intel core processor.

Its 120Hz wide-view display runs in windows 10 professional maintains a powerful cooling powered by a clever new air flow design active Aerodynamic system.

Features

Fast SSD & RAM

120Hz high refresh rate from its wide new full HD display

Ultra-thin and Ultra-light gaming laptop with only 4.9lbs weight

7th generation Intel core i7 7700HQ 2.8 GHz processor.

Next generation gaming performance with NVIDIA GeForce GTX 1080 8GB graphics

Pre-installed windows 10 professional OS

Cool and quiet ROG Active Aerodynamics system reduces temperatures

Pros

Crazy fast storage speeds

Ultimate super gaming performance

Supreme cooling performance

Seamless gameplay with 120 Hz display impeccable graphics visuals.

Excellent keyboard & trackpad

Slim & sleek with stylish Max Q design.

13. ASUS GL503VS — DH74 ROG Strix 15.6” Scar Edition Gaming Laptop

The ASUS ROG Strix Scar Edition GL503 VS-DH74 is built exclusively for the sharpest game shooters in the meanest gunfights and is optimized to have advantage in competitive FPS titles.

This laptop has all the firepower you’d need in a gaming laptop providing its greatest speed and performance as well as excellent audio sound.

It gets stylish cleaner design and high refresh rate screen and efficient cooling solution.

Features

Special design for FPS gamers

Aura RGB lighting keyboard with 4 isolated hotkeys

256GB PCle NVME SSD

1TB fire cuda SSHD for combination of high capacity storage and fast OS drive speed

7th generation Intel core i7–7700HQ quad-core 2.8GHz

Discrete GeForce GTX 1070 8GB graphics

Dual fan thermal design

Pros

Impressive 3D soundstage

All the gaming firepower available

Lots of game-centric customizations

Loud and punchy speakers

Easily serviceable

Unique 144Hz IPS screen with Gsyn

Runs cool and flawlessly dung intensive gaming session

Excellent trackpad and clickpad

Quality build and aesthetics

Powerful, compact, elegant and immersive gaming laptop for both beginner & pro gamers

Stunning 1080p screen

Cons

Limited battery life

Button & trackpad could be improved

14. CUK MS/GS63 Stealth Gamer Notebook Gaming Laptop Computer ($1,119.99)

The CUK MS GS63 Stealth Gamer Notebook Gaming Laptop is a portable gaming laptop on the go with both performance and portability delivered in a 4 pound laptop that can play the newest games with ultra-setting.

The CUK MS Gaming Laptop uses NVIDIA GeForce GTX 1060 to offer the portability with sturdy graphics and performance of a computer desktop replacement.

When it comes to portable form factor with great build quality, powerful GPU, external GPU compatibility and excellent keyboard, CUK MS GS63 stealth Gamer Notebook Gaming Laptop is the go to best gaming laptop under $1500.

Features

32GB RAM

3 year CUK Limited warranty

Steel series full-color backlight with Anti-ghost key silver long keyboard

Runs on windows 10 home x64 operating system

Display: 15.6“ full HD IPS — Level Display (1920 x 1080)

Graphics: NVIDIA GeForce GTX 1060 6GB GDDR5

Processor: Intel core i7–8750H six core processor

(9MB cache, 2.2GHz — 4.1 GHz) 45W

Hard drive: 1TB NVME solid state drive + 2TB 5400 rpm Hard Disk Drive

Pros

Attractive, slim chassis

Extremely comfortable keyboard

Great performance and good graphics

Excellent build quality and portable

Agile transfer speeds

Cons

Battery life needs improvement

May run hot at intensive gaming session of long hours.

15. Alienware AW15R3–5246SLV-PUS 15.6” Gaming laptop — Best gaming laptop for under $1500

The Alienware AW15R3–5246SLV-PUS 15.6” Gaming laptop offers a great gaming experience on a whole new level with NVIDIA GeForce GTX- 10 series GPU.

It delivers exceptional power with 100W graphics cards, 17k-series processors for 4k gaming and supports DDR4 memory with 8GB to 32GB capacities and 2400MHz to 2667MHz speeds range road map for upgrades.

Features

Runs on windows 10 Home operating system

Notebook/Laptop type

3.50GHz processor speed

1TB Hard Drive Capacity

3 Ports USB Hub

15.6” FHD (1920 x 1080) Display

Intel Core i5–7300HQ Processor

8GB DDR4 at 2400MHz memory

Video Graphics: NVIDIA GeForce GTX 1060

1TB 7200 RPM SATA 6Gb/s Hard drive

IPS Anti-Glare 300-nits Display W/G sync

Memory: 8GB DDR4 at 2133MHz (1 x 8GB); 32GB Maximum

Quad-core, 6MB Cache, up to 3.5GHz w/Turbo Boost

Pros

Excellent battery life

2133 MHz memory speed for fast file transfer

Great refresh rate at 60Hz

Great game performance runs smoothly

Built to impress keyboard

Higher maximum thermal power designed to keep cool

Sturdy high end build

Nice design and lighting

Fantastic 1080P gaming performance

Boatload of storage

Cons

Heavy for a 15 inch laptop

1080P resolution maximum

Pricey for more configuration

Alienware AW15R3–5246SLV-PUS 15.6” Gaming laptop VS Ready with NVIDIA GTX 1060 is well designed with power for smooth HP games at maximum settings.

16. Acer Aspire 5 Slim Laptop 15.6 Inches FHD IPS display, 8th Gen Intel Core i5–8265U, 8GB DDR4, 256GB SSD, Fingerprint Reader, Windows 10 Home A515–54–51DJ

The Acer Aspire 5 slim laptop is a powerful and portable gaming laptop that offers new heights with sharp, crisp visual showcased on the 15.6” full HD IPS Screen.

Its 8th Gen Intel core i5 CPU provides you with 9.5 hours of battery life to super charge your laptop for powerful processing, maximized visuals, power of sound and exceptional performance for gaming experience.

Acer Aspire 5 slim laptop is a 15.6 inch thin and lightweight laptop that delivers high performance and durability for your money with full-featured for any game play.

Acer Aspire 5 slim laptop 15.6 comes with an entry level graphics card.

Features

8th Gen Intel core i5–8265U processor (up to 3.9 gHz)

Backlit keyboard

Up to 9.5 hours battery life

Fingerprint reader

15.6 inches full HD (1920 x 1080) wide screen LED-backlit IPS Display

Intel UHD Graphics 620

Pros

Slim, thin, lightweight at less than 4 pounds

Easy to upgrade memory and storage

Long Battery life is very impressive

Excellent performance for all gameplay

Great ports assortment

Bright 1080P display

Affordable & inexpensive

Fingerprint reader

So much mainstream productivity power

Quad-core performance

Cons

No memory card reader (no SD card slot)

Dim display & middling graphics

Questionable build quality in line with its budget price

What Gaming Laptop has the Best Cooling System?

Here are the gaming laptops that have the best cooling system that is effective.

ASUS ROG Zephyrus S ultra slim gaming laptop- best gaming laptop with best cooling system

Acer Predator Helios 300 gaming laptop 2nd best gaming laptop with effective cooling system

MSI P65 creator-1084 15.6”4k UHD Display, ultra-thin and light, RTX studio laptop-3rd most effective gaming laptop under $1500 with excellent cooling system

Omen GeForce RTX studio 2019 15-inch laptop — best gaming laptop with excellent cooling performance

ASUS TUF gaming laptop — best decent cooling system for a gaming laptop.

What is the Best Gaming Laptop 2020?

The best gaming laptop 2020 including the following laptops:

ASUS ROG Zephyrus S GX531 GX

ASUS Zephyrus G14

ASUS ROG Strix GL502

Alienware Area — 51m

Alienware m17 (2019)

ASUS ROG Zephyrus S GX701

Gigabyte Aorus 17G

MSI GS65 Stealth

Lenovo Legion Y740

Razer Blade

What Cheap Laptops are Good for Gaming?

The best cheap gaming laptops that are recommended are:

Lenovo Legion Y530 — Best cheap gaming

Lenovo Legion Y545 — Best overall cheap gaming laptop

Dell G3 15 — Great performance and helpful gaming software

HP Gaming Pavilion 15 — dk0046nr

MSI GF63 8RB — Great battery life on a budget for a cheap gaming laptop

Dell G7 15

Acer Nitro5

ASUS TUF Gaming FX705

Conclusion

To make our selection in the case of the best gaming laptop for 1500USD, we read hundreds of reviews, pros and cons from real customers, we also run a number of synthetic gaming benchmarks that rely on real world tests to come up with the best gaming laptops.

So…

What is the Best Gaming Laptop for under $1500?

Here are my picks for the best gaming laptops under $1500 you can buy right now:

Culled from Bestsoft Nigeria: https://www.bestsoftnigeria.biz/blog/best-gaming-laptop-for-1500/#ixzz6YrYLHnYu

[etraytin]

Quarantine, Day 154

August 12

LOL my computer won't show me my pin login screen unless I press the soft boot keys first, that's not a bad sign, is it? 

Anyway, another day of entirely kittens! Three hour feeds means breakfast starts at 6am, bright and early! Second breakfast rolls out around 9, just in time for a nice lunch at noon. Second lunch is at 3pm, followed by early bird dinner at six. Fashionably late dinner (attended by all the same diners, of course) is at 9pm, then we all have a midnight snack that is in fact a full meal. A 3am top-up finishes the day's menu, and everybody gets one more nap before breakfast. Whew! In the middle of this, the weanlings also get fed on their own, slightly less rigid schedule consisting of "We have finished the food, human! What the hell are you playing at?" 

The good news is that eight daily feedings are paying off in terms of baby weight gain. All of the teenies are up by at least 20g over yesterday, which is an excellent daily gain equivalent to the weight of about four US quarters. Given that they were very underweight to start with, rapid gain and good suckling are very encouraging signs. Orphan kittens always have a tough row to hoe and things could go wrong, but it's a great start. They also have names nowI I ran the two sets of names by the coordinator and she okayed the Harper Hall set, woo-hoo! Without further ado (or photo editing to make these pics smaller because I am exhausted), meet the Harpers! 

First off is Menolly, of course. She is white and black with a mostly white body and a white blaze on her face (her first given name for my notebook was "Stripe"). Menolly is the smallest of the kittens by just a few grams and earned her name by being the loudest and most energetic yeller by an order of magnitude. She always gets fed first, because she is apparently always STARVING. Menolly was also the first kitten to escape her bin; I found her snuggled up next to Audiva this morning and had to put binder clips on the towel cover. 

Next is Audiva, the other female, and much less obvious of a naming choice. If she'd been bigger or louder she might have been Silvinia, but she's pretty laid back and mostly enjoys snuggling in with her stuffed puppy fake mama and sleeping on her back. (She was "Dot" to start with, because she has one black spot on her back and the white stripe on her face wraps around her ear to make the black spot a round dot.) 

Sebell has facial markings that are not dissimilar from Menolly's, but where her body is mostly white, his is tuxie black. (He was "Blaze" to start with becausse of the white blaze up his face and chest.) Sebell just about gave me a goddamned heart attack this afternoon by not only slipping out of his bin but leaving the bins entirely and going a few feet away to a place where I could easily have stepped on him. I like to think I would've noticed him before I did, but luckily the kiddo was with me and quickly pointed out the wanderer. Yikes! There is such a thing as living up too much to your name, journeyman. 

The final kitten is Robinton, the biggest and most distinguished of the kittens thanks to his handsome white mustache! (He was "Stashy" in the book for obvious reasons.) Robinton is possibly the most businesslike kitten I have ever encountered. When I pick him up he pees and usually poos as well, lets himself be wiped up, then latches onto the bottle like it's going out of style. He's gained 30g already and has a handsome portly tummy to go with his handsome face.

  The little kittens did well today, but Zuko lost some weight and I'm not sure why. I'm hoping the tick we pulled off him isn't making him sick a few days later. I penned him up with some food to make sure he'd get enough, but all he did was cry, so I pulled him out, snuggled him, and then syringe fed him meat mush through a luer lock with no tip in it. It was messy work, but he ate some! I'm going to keep on keeping an eye on him, but he's certainly been very active. The others are all gaining well and eating well. The kiddo has been spending a lot of time taking Aang into his room and playing with him whenever I say he can. It's probably just as well if these kittens depart this weekend; we cannot get another cat if we want to keep fostering and I don't want him to get his little heart broken when it's time to say goodbye. 

In non-heartbreaking news, I proved my Minecraft chops and general motherly acumen today when I fixed the kiddo's bugged game by successfully typing /gamemode creative into the text window in the very few seconds between respawn and death after the kiddo accidentally redrew the borders of the world to exclude the place where he was. He'd been getting a little wound up worrying about it but all's well that ends well, and I showed him how to back up his game to prevent future disasters from being ruinous. It's funny because I remember back when he was maybe two or three years old and my motion sickness wasn't so acute, he'd like to sit on the arm of my recliner and watch me play Minecraft. It was fun, but it added difficulty because he unconditionally refused to let me kill the cute animals for food or materials. Suffice it to say he has gotten over that qualm and is now a first rate hunter and farmer. 

The only other real thing of note today was our trip to the thrift store. The thrift store was closed for many months during the pandemic, and we've only been back a couple times since they opened despite it being one of my favorite places. Today's trip was ostensibly for the purpose of acquiring suitable fake mama animals for when the teenies inevitably pee or poop on the ones they have, but we found many other goodies as well. They put all their pet, garden and summer stuff on half price sale, so I got a Topsy Turvy planter for a buck, a couple of blue ice cooler packs for less than a dollar each, and a really startlingly nice crate-style cage for small animals for just three dollars. I am betting it was probably 40 at the store and it looked new, so I'm very pleased. We're always looking for crates for transfering kittens or friendly ferals without taking up our scarce box traps! I also got six or seven appropriately sized stuffed animals for the non-hypothetical kittens. 

The kiddo got into a bin of 50 cent electronics toys with no batteries, sold take-your-chances style, and got a little ray gun, two Perry the Platypus walkie-talkies, and a bluetooth speaker. Everything but the gun worked, so it was a heck of a good deal even though he did wind up getting his finger stuck in the ray gun while disassembling it and needing a good spritz of cooking spray to release him. My best find was probably the nonstick Pampered Chef two-handled skillet in great shape for five bucks. I couldn't find the exact pan online because it's probably older, but I don't think PC sells any pans for less than like 100 bucks, so I was quite pleased. It's a great size for omelettes, stir fry, eggs, whatever. Every time I move, I have to go through and get rid of most of my pans, and every time I settle down again, I rebuild my collection. It's the circle of life!