#and I mean that in the most affectionate way

[astro-stars]

leaked nicknames

When Yuu's list of nicknames and their supposed reasonings gets leaked, NRC erupts into chaos. Some are flattered, others are confused, and a handful are completely mortified. Meanwhile, the Magicam audience is eating this up, dubbing it one of Yuu’s most iconic moments to date.

Immediate Reactions Across NRC

Magicam Frenzy

Cater posts: “YUU REALLY CALLED RIDDLE ‘BBG’ AND MALLEUS ‘NIGHT HUSBAND.’ 💀🔥 #NicknameGate #YuuNeverMisses”

Comments are out of control:

“TSUNOTARO IS REAL AND WE HAVE PROOF.”

“She really called Azul ‘love’ while Floyd gets a literal eel translation. I’M CRYING.”

“‘Peepaw’ for Lilia is SENDING ME.”

Dorm-Specific Reactions

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts:

Blushing furiously. “BBG?! Yuu! That is… highly inappropriate! Please refrain from calling me such embarrassing things!”

Trey Clover:

Laughs nervously. “Malewife, huh? I… I guess I’ll take it as a compliment?”

Ace Trappola:

DYING WITH LAUGHTER. “THE BRAIN CELL DUO?! I’M GONNA TELL EVERYONE YOU SAID THAT!”

Deuce Spade:

Stammering, completely flustered. “W-Wait, we’re the brain cell duo? Is that… a good thing?”

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar:

Raises an eyebrow, smirking. “teta, huh? I don’t even want to know what that means.”

Ruggie Bucchi:

Laughing so hard he’s clutching his sides. “Mono? Cute?! Yuu, you really think I’m cute?! This is GOLD!”

Jack Howl:

Blushing furiously, his ears twitching. “Wolfie… I don’t mind it, but… did you have to make it public?”

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto:

Adjusts his glasses, his face flushed. “Amor? Really, Yuu? That’s… quite bold of you.”

Jade Leech:

Smirks, clearly entertained. “Ah, Anguila. Such a fitting name. I’ll make sure Floyd appreciates it as well.”

Floyd Leech:

Laughing uncontrollably. “SHRIMPY, YOU CALLED ME AN EEL?! THAT’S SO BORING! GIVE ME A COOLER NICKNAME!”

Scarabia

Kalim Al-Asim:

Beaming. “Sunshine! That’s so sweet, Yuu! You’re like sunshine too!”

Jamil Viper:

Groans, covering his face. “Pretty boy? Really? Couldn’t you have chosen something less… embarrassing?”

Pomefiore

Vil Schoenheit:

Nods approvingly. “Ma reine. At least someone recognizes true royalty around here.”

Epel Felmier:

Snickering. “You gave Rook ‘mon chasseur,’ but what about me, huh?! I deserve a nickname too!”

Rook Hunt:

“Ah, mon cher Yuu! Your acknowledgment of my hunting prowess is magnifique! You flatter me greatly!”

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud:

MORTIFIED. “Sámi?! Yuu! You can’t just… call me that! It’s way too accurate!”

Ortho Shroud:

Beaming. “My son! Yuu, that’s so sweet! I’ll always be your baby!”

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia:

Smiling softly. “Tsunotaro and night husband. I am honored by your affectionate names, Yuu.”

Lilia Vanrouge:

Laughing hysterically. “Peepaw?! Yuu, I feel so ancient now! But it’s hilarious, so I’ll allow it!”

Silver:

Blinks slowly, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “Pretty princess… I don’t understand, but if it makes you happy, Yuu.”

Sebek Zigvolt:

YELLING. “COCODRILO?! HOW DARE YOU COMPARE ME TO SUCH A CREATURE?! I AM FAR SUPERIOR!”

The Fallout

Fans on Magicam are spiraling:

“Yuu’s nicknames are both chaotic and wholesome. ICONIC.”

“Night husband and peepaw in the same list? Yuu’s range is unparalleled.”

Memes flood in, with captions like:

*“Yuu: ‘Mono means cute.’ Ruggie: ‘I AM LIVING FOR THIS.’”

“Trey: ‘Malewife.’ Azul: ‘Amor.’ The duality of Yuu’s nicknames.”

i wanted to try smth different:)

DIVIDER: @/enchanthings-a

TAGLIST: @lunasmisosoup @soramcduckahyucky

[angelyuji]

LADS yandere headcanons

sorry that some of them weren’t long, i didn’t want to make the post too long :( but hey!!! caleb day!!!! guess who got to welcome caleb home after 200 pulls!!!! (imcryingrealtearsrn) tbf i have almost all of his 5 stars and a couple 4 stars now :) all of my saving up helped thankfully

i didn’t write any nsfw but i have some ideas for the characters…. so lemme know if u want it :)

tw // yandere, kidnapping, violence (physical, emotional, mental abuse), manipulation, fauxcest, implied noncon and more, just general freaky nasty stuff

zayne:

zayneer;speojfso;ias doctorrrr doctorrr i think i sprained my ankleee gimme a full body checkup pleaseee ;)))))

he’s very cold to you, but like its just cuz he loves you so much he doesn’t want to scare you away with his actual feelings (thinkkk tsundere)

soooo overprotective over your health and safety

he wants you to quit being a hunter and stay at home, safe from danger

he’ll eventually convince you too, he’s so manipulative, using your heart condition against you

he wants to take care of you until he dies, a giverrrr in more ways than one *wink wink*

he wouldn’t kidnap you, but will convince you to move in with him (probably by saying smth about how it’ll be easier to keep track of your heart and care for you)

you trust zayne a lot easier than xav, raf, and sy becuz he’s your doctor and also your childhood friend (similar to your relationship with caleb) and he’ll use that to his advantage

now lets talk about doctor zayne’s behavior hehehe

in reality, yes everything about your relationship is against doctor-patient rules and all that but like who gives af yk

doctor zayne is the type to prefer doing your weekly check-ups at home in private

and by weekly check-ups i mean not just a regular physical, but a full body check-up

he’s sooo anxious about your health that even if violates your boundaries, he’ll strap you to the bed and snap some gloves on to feel every part of you

(for your health of course, def not cause he wanted to feel your warm skin without you struggling)

rafayel:

THIS MOTHERFUCKERRRR BRO

hes the clingiest person ever, he quite literally never gives you a moment of peace

constantly calling you, never leaving you alone.

he’s very bright and cheery whenever he sees you

but he’s very cold and mean to people he doesn’t care about, he’s very manipulative in that sense

raf is def, in my eyes, kinda the spoiled brat type

he hates when you say no to him so he pretends like you didn’t

if he asks you out and you tell him you can’t cause you’re busy, he’ll make up some excuse to get you to him

whether it’s calling your work and saying he has an emergency or calling you and guilt tripping you, he’s going to get his way no matter what

rafayel would most definitely kidnap you if he feels like you’re not giving him enough attention

like too many dates canceled, too many friends keeping you busy

he’s OVERRR ITT. you’re his inspiration, his muse, his very reason to live so he wants to keep you as close to him as possible

if that means keeping you chained up in his bedroom… then yeah he’s keeping you chained up babes

he’s very hot and cold with you as well

if he’s happy with you, he’s showering you with affection and love. being a silly goofy goober as they say

but if he’s mad at you, he’s cold to you and cruel

raf can be really fucking mean to you but the moment you retaliate, he’s shocked and like “why would you say that :((((“

raf is similar to xavier that he’s clingy, but raf is more confrontational with you. he will accuse you of cheating and force you onto your knees to show him how sorry you are. (he’ll also go and make sure that whoever it was that was taking your time and attention, never gets to talk to you again)

very much a pathological liarr

as much as he is annoying (i say affectionately), he’s constantly looking for your praise

wants you to compliment him and be comforting him at all times

and he’ll force it out of you if he has to.

xavier:

i feel like xavier is the most yandere of all of them like even in canon (this was written before i caleb’s trailer lmao. he’s 2nd most yandere now lolol)

he’s constantly stalking you. finding out who your friends are, what your daily schedule is, what shampoos and soaps you use

you’ll constantly feel like you’ve seen him at the store, but when you go and look, he’s not there (he’s done that before in game lmao he’s so cute)

xavier to me is also a typical yandere but more self-sacrificing. (i saw a tweet about xav and caleb where someone said they’re both yandere lovers but xavier is selfless and caleb is selfish and that perfectly encapsulates what im thinking)

very sneaky sneaky guy

he would kidnap you but that’s a last resort

he mostly just wants your attention and praise so only if he feels that you’re in danger, he would kidnap you

he’s very sadistic when it comes to people that try to take your attention away from him (will torture/kill a guy if they try anything with you)

he’s a jealous and petty i fear

if he feels like you’re talking to some rando too much, he’s immediately at your side, arm around your waist and glaring at them

my little star my cutie pie it’s hard to not fall for his innocent words/behavior becuz he speaks with such an airy voice and cute face

does unhinged shit with a cute smile and you’re usually blissfully unaware (or at least pretending to be), believing xavier def didn’t kill that guy you always say hello too on the way to work

it only gets worse from there once he realizes you’re letting his crazy slide

sylus:

sylus is very gentle and teasing in game and i feel like that also transfers to his yandere version.

contrary to his looks, sylus is not a violent yandere. because of the nature of his work, he doesn't want for you to be involved or see that violent side of him ever.

he's most def a sugar daddy type, very possessive. he wants to know where you are and who you're with at all times.

but he’s not like scary macho man about it, he’s informed you of how dangerous the N109 zone is so you know that his possessiveness is out of fear for your safety

he has most def put a tracker on all your clothes and electronics

if you are and want to continue being a hunter, sylus will support you

the only reason sylus would try to stop you is if you get mortally wounded, then he’s like “yeah no, kitten. you’re staying here with me where it is safe :)”

i feel like sylus would only kidnap you if the situation is that dire for him

like he’s fighting for his life for your attention and you’re giving nothing. he’s gonna be like “omg kitten, why are you not getting the hit :(“

alsooo he’s such a tease like theres nothing he loves more than constantly teasing you about everything

when he leaves for gang leader stuff, he gives you free reign on his black card as well as the house

he does not gaf if the whole house is pink when he comes back as long as you’re home

loves loves loves dressing you tho like he loves buying you clothes and dressing you up like his personal doll

my cute little sugar daddy

caleb:

i’ll be following the canon story for caleb’s headcanons

you guys grew up together, keeping each other safe and being each other’s best friend

and caleb had been in love with you since the moment you guys met

he def toed the line a lot when you guys were kids: making you promise to marry him and telling you that he’ll never leave you and that he would hurt himself if you left him

which at the time, didn’t worry grandma. I mean, you were all he had and vice versa so its not surprising that you’re both so attached

but as you guys grew up, his obsession with you worsens

he sabotages your relationships, keeps a tracker on you at all times, and have crossed a lot of your boundaries

but then caleb “died” and you lost your best friend.

caleb, i feel, is a very core yandere. like if you search up yandere in the dictionary, his picture shows up

he is obsessed with you to the point that it’s unhealthy for the both of you

some of his lines remind of jumin han’s bad ending 2 (from mystic messenger)

like this mf wants to collar you and keep you in a cage so you could never leave his sight. he wants you to be safe and there with him at all times

he would def kidnap you to do exactly this

he most def stalked you btw after he came back from the “dead”

he watched and stewed in jealousy as you interacted with the other LI’s. (yes i know that all the love interests stories are happening in different universes simultaneously but just for this… for the angst)

he hated when you went on dates when you were young, so seeing you again after so long just made his obsession and his hatred worse

he would try to threaten and kill anyone that stood in his way to have you

(also the ARM???? OKAY WINTER SOLDIER!!!) (im hoping the arm is a permanent feature but i wont get my hopes up)

when you guys were younger, caleb def snuck into your room to steal your clothes or anything that had your smell and he most DEFINITELY still does that

i honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he had a full-on shrine for you that kept him going until he could see you again

anyway the lines are kinda blurred on the familial relation, cause in the game, he talks about how although you guys were technically siblings, neither one of you considered each other as siblings

but i’ll leave it here with this, you guys lived together in your formative years so you most definitely experienced and learned (wink wink) a lot with caleb before anyyyyy of the other love interests

[diodeiodine]

have u ever looked at a man and thought oh cool but then u hear his voice and ur eyes and ears start to twitch and then u think "he needs to be eliminated immediately." and then before u know it ur like actually tweaking and now u cant sleep bc of thst shithead

[bestalbertcamuslover]

Consumerism

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✯ pairing: Sebastian Vettel x Pop Star! Reader ✯

✯ content warnings: none ✯

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She was accustomed to the city—the endless shopping, the fleeting dopamine rush that came from spending copious amounts of money on items she’d probably use only once. Her bank account could handle it; as a very famous pop star, it was almost expected of her.

During one of Seb’s visits to her apartment—now more frequent as their relationship deepened—he couldn’t help but notice the abundance of PR packages and shopping bags cluttering the entrance of her penthouse.

He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he leaned casually against the doorframe. “So, uh… are you starting a boutique, or is this just your personal collection?” he teased, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

She rolled her eyes, setting her handbag down on the marble countertop. “Funny,” she said, walking past him toward the kitchen. “It’s not that much.”

Sebastian followed her, a mock look of disbelief on his face. “Not that much? Love, there’s enough here to open a department store. Do you even know what’s in half of those boxes?”

She turned to face him, her expression half-amused, half-defensive. “Of course I do! Well… most of it,” she admitted, glancing back at the pile. “It’s just PR stuff and a little shopping.”

Sebastian crossed his arms, leaning casually against the doorframe, his lips quirking into a teasing smile as he gestured toward the pile of shopping bags near the entrance. “A little shopping?” he repeated, his tone dripping with amused disbelief. “Are you starting a boutique or something?”

She rolled her eyes, placing a hand on her hip. “Nope. Nope, don’t even start. You are not going to give me one of your ‘do you really need all of this?’ talks today, Mr. Vettel.”

He chuckled, stepping closer, his blue eyes sparkling with that infuriating mix of charm and earnestness that always made her listen, even when she didn’t want to. “I mean, I’m just saying… do you even remember what’s in half of these bags? Or is it just about the dopamine rush of hitting ‘buy now’?”

She huffed, feigning indignation. “Okay, first of all, rude. And second of all, yes, I do remember. Mostly.” She faltered for a moment, glancing at the pile. “Probably.”

“Mm-hmm,” he said, his grin widening. “You know, this isn’t the first time you’ve said that. Didn’t we have the same conversation about that fancy juicer you bought last month? The one that’s still in the box?”

She shot him a playful glare. “You know, I liked you a lot better before you started being right all the time.”

“Oh, come on,” he said, stepping even closer, his teasing tone softening. “You’ve already let me talk you out of half a dozen things. What’s one more?”

She groaned, but there was no real fight in it, because he had already changed her mind on so much. His integrity—his annoying, unwavering integrity—had a way of making her question the habits she once thought were harmless. And, in a way, it was infuriating how much happier and more grounded she felt because of him.

“That’s mansplaining,” she joked, acting offended, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.

“Sure, it is,” he said with sarcasm, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “But you know I’m right. And admit it—you kind of like that about me.”

She gave a dramatic sigh. “Fine. Maybe. But don’t push your luck.”

He laughed, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “Deal. I’ll take that as a win. Now, how about we move some of this stuff out of the hallway before it becomes a fire hazard?”

She couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head as she nudged him playfully. “You’re unbearable.”

“Bur you still keep me around,” he said with a wink, grabbing one of the bags to help her.

“Yeah,” she said softly, watching him with a small, affectionate smile. “I really do.”

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✯ authors note: English is not my first language, and I hope you liked it <3

[estellan0vella]

Han Jisung’s Panty Protection Program: H.JS Han Jisung x fem!reader (College AU)

WC: 13.4K

CW: Themes of Invasion of Privacy (stolen underwear), Mentions of masturbation, sexual fluids, and references to a character using stolen underwear for sexual gratification, Jisung being dramatic, Light Violence, Discussions and depictions of crystals, tarot readings, and sage-burning rituals, Minho and reader shenanigans

General Masterlist SKZ Masterlist Part I Part II

Jisung’s room in the Alpha Phi frat house is a cosy mix of chaos and comfort. His bed, large enough to hold his perpetually sprawled form, sits in the corner with tangled navy sheets and a pile of mismatched pillows. Strawberry-scented incense wafts lazily from the nightstand, curling smoke weaving through the dim light of the room. Crystals are scattered everywhere, on his desk, his bookshelf, and the windowsill, casting faint glimmers when they catch the faint glow of the TV screen.

“Jagiya,” Jisung drawls, shifting so his bare chest brushes against your arm, his voice syrupy in that way it always is when he’s trying to get your attention. “You’re not even watching.”

The screen plays Howl’s Moving Castle, Jisung’s favourite movie, but it’s more background noise than entertainment for you. You’ve seen it around forty times now. Yet somehow, the plot remains a mystery because you always end up distracted. Like right now, as you shuffle your tarot cards, your grey lounge pants soft against Jisung’s thigh and your white bralette letting the cool air kiss your shoulders. Your hair’s in a messy bun, strands escaping to frame your face, and Jisung can’t stop staring at you like you’re the most fascinating thing in the room.

“Shh, I’m doing my reading,” you murmur, eyes focused on the cards. 

Zak, your two-year-old brindle Staffordshire Bull Terrier, gnaws happily on a bone in his dog bed near Jisung’s desk. His ears flick every so often, alert to the sound of your voice, but he’s content to leave you be. He loves it here as much as you do; the space is as much yours as it is Jisung’s, even if you don’t technically live here.

Jisung leans his chin on your shoulder, his dark blue hair tickling your neck. “You’ve seen this one card a million times. What’s it mean this time?”

You flip the final card, a slight shiver crawling up your spine. “The Seven of Swords,” you say, holding it up. The illustration glares at you, sharp and accusing.

“And?” Jisung prompts, though his tone is playful, his attention still half on you and half on the screen. “Good news or bad news?”

You hesitate. “It’s not great.”

That gets his attention. He turns fully toward you, propping himself up on his elbow. His sweatpants ride low on his hips, and his tone softens. “You worried about it, jagiya?”

“No,” you reply quickly, though the card sits heavy in your mind. “It’s just... It’s a warning. Dishonesty, deceit, manipulation, cheating, theft. But it doesn’t mean that something bad is happening right now. It just means to be cautious, you know? I think I just need to pick up more crystals.”

Jisung snorts, ruffling your hair affectionately. “More crystals? Jagiya, my room already sparkles enough to blind someone.”

“There’s no such thing as too much sparkle,” you quip, giving him a pointed look as you start gathering your deck back into a neat pile. The strawberry incense has burned low now, but the sweet scent lingers.

Jisung’s lips twitch into a lopsided grin. “Your eyes sparkle enough to light up the whole fucking world.”

You pause, your hand hovering over the tarot deck. “That’s actually really sweet, Sungie.”

“Sweet enough for you to give me head?”

Your hand smacks his arm before he can even finish the sentence. “You just fucking ruined it.”

“Ow!” he complains, though he’s laughing as he rubs the spot you hit. “What? I’m being honest! You said you appreciate honesty!”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real heat behind it. “Honesty and your horny ass aren’t the same thing.”

He pulls you closer, his chest warm against your back. “You love me anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that.” You lean into his touch despite the words, letting him press a kiss to your temple.

The movie continues to play in the background, a faint crescendo of orchestral music filling the room. Jisung’s hand finds its way to your waist, resting there idly as his other hand traces nonsensical patterns on the back of yours.

“So, for real,” he says after a beat of silence, “this card thing doesn’t freak you out?”

You shake your head. “Not really. It’s just a reminder to be careful. The universe has a way of sending signals, you know?”

He hums, though his tone is sceptical. “I still don’t get the whole crystal-tarot-astrology thing. But if it makes you feel grounded, I’m all in. My wallet, though, isn’t gonna love you buying out the crystal shop again.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it,” you tease, tilting your head to catch his gaze. “You get a kick out of hearing me rant about this stuff.”

Jisung grins, that familiar, boyish charm lighting up his face. “Maybe I just like hearing your voice.”

“Maybe you just like kissing my ass.”

“Only when it’s bare.”

“Jisung!”

He dissolves into laughter, the kind that shakes the bed and makes Zak lift his head in confusion. You roll your eyes playfully as Jisung’s laughter starts to die down, though the grin on his face lingers. His arm drapes around your shoulders as he pulls you closer, still absently tracing patterns on your skin. 

“You know,” you say, tilting your head to look at him, “you look different lately.”

Jisung raises an eyebrow, a teasing smirk already forming. “Different? Like how? Handsomer? Sexier? More fuckable?”

You snort, shoving at his chest, which is frustratingly solid beneath your hand. “I’m serious, Sungie. You cut your hair, switched the silver out for blue, you’ve been hitting the gym more with Changbin, and your arms are like double the size they were before. And your chest...” You trail off, gesturing vaguely at his torso. “I mean, I think your chest is bigger than mine now. You’re making my boobs look tragic.”

Jisung’s jaw drops, feigning absolute horror. “Do not,” he sits up, one hand clutching his chest dramatically, “and I mean do not diss my favourite titties.”

You blink, confused. “Wait, your- oh my god, you mean mine?” You burst out laughing, and he grins like he’s won the lottery. “Jisung, you’re fucking impossible.”

“I’m dead serious,” he says, sitting cross-legged now and leaning toward you with mock solemnity. He pokes your chest lightly, his finger pressing against the fabric of your bralette. “These are works of art, jagiya. They’re perfection. Fuck the gym, Changbin can’t give me what these do.”

You giggle, batting his hand away, but he’s relentless. “No, no, let me finish! These are my favourite titties in the world. The Mona Lisa of boobs. Michelangelo himself couldn’t sculpt anything better.”

“You’re insane,” you manage through your laughter, trying to shove his face away as he leans closer.

“And you’re blessed,” he says, completely unfazed, his grin wide and shameless. “Seriously, I should write a fucking sonnet about them. Ode to the Greatest Pair of Tits That Ever Graced This Earth. Shakespeare would cry.”

“Jisung, shut up,” you giggle, doubling over as he pokes your chest again, his touch playful and light. “You’re so stupid.”

From the room next door, Minho’s voice booms through the thin walls. “JISUNG, SHUT UP ABOUT YOUR GIRLFRIEND’S FUCKING TITS!”

You’re gasping for air as Jisung groans and flops back dramatically, flinging an arm over his eyes. “Why does he always ruin my fun?” he whines before sitting up suddenly and grabbing your chest with both hands. He gives them a quick squeeze. “Honk.”

The noise that comes out of you is somewhere between a laugh and a snort, and it sends Jisung into another fit of giggles. “You’re such a child,” you say, slapping his hands away again, though there’s no real force behind it. “What is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?” he repeats, looking offended before lunging forward and burying his face between your boobs. “What’s wrong with me is that these exist, and I’m a simple man.”

“Jisung!” you shriek, laughing as he starts shaking his head dramatically, his hair tickling your skin. He lets out a loud, exaggerated “brrrrrr” sound, the vibrations making you dissolve into giggles.

“Stop motorboating me!” you gasp, trying to push his head away, but he’s stronger now, Changbin’s workouts clearly paying off, and he just stays there, muffling a defiant “Never!”

“You’re fucking ridiculous!” you cry, laughing so hard your stomach aches.

“Ridiculous or romantic?”

“Neither,” you say, still breathless. “You’re just an idiot.”

“An idiot who loves his jagiya’s tits. Let me suffocate here! I’ll die happy.”

The door creaks open, and Minho pokes his head into the room, eyebrows raised in mock judgment. “Jisung, stop being a fucking freak.”

Jisung doesn’t even lift his face from your chest. He’s still making that obnoxious “brrrr” noise, his head moving side to side. You’re half laughing, half mortified, trying to push him away, but his grip around your waist is unyielding.

“Minho, help me!” you plead, waving a hand toward the door.

Minho crosses his arms and leans casually against the doorframe. “Poor Zak shouldn’t have to see this shit.” He strides into the room, bending down to scoop up your dog. Zak wags his tail, happy for the attention, and Minho cradles him like a baby. “You deserve better, little man. You don’t need to witness whatever the fuck this is.”

“Minho, I’m serious!” you laugh as Jisung lets out another exaggerated “brrrrrr,” his blue hair tickling your skin.

“Jisung,” Minho says, deadpan. “Go sit in the fucking corner and think about what you’ve done.”

Jisung groans dramatically but finally rolls off the bed, landing on the floor with a soft thud. He drags himself to the corner like a petulant child, flopping down cross-legged. But instead of sitting quietly, he presses his hands to his cheeks, squeezing them together. He starts mimicking the same motion he was doing on you, complete with another obnoxious “brrrrrr” noise.

“I have an active imagination!” Jisung declares, grinning mischievously as he shakes his head between his hands. “I’m imagining my hands are your tits, jagiya! It’s like I never left!”

You bury your face in your hands, mortified, while Minho snorts so hard Zak wiggles in his arms. “You’re fucking hopeless,” Minho says, shooting Jisung a look of pure disbelief.

“Hopelessly in love with my girlfriend’s boobs!” Jisung shoots back, unbothered. “And proud of it!”

Minho shakes his head, turning to you. “Come on, Y/N. You don’t need this shit. Seek refuge with your favourite Alpha Phi member.”

Jisung gasps from his corner, clutching his hands to his chest as if he’s been physically wounded. “Traitor!” he cries, pointing an accusatory finger at Minho.

“Shut up,” Minho says firmly, pointing back. “You’re in time-out.”

Jisung starts making the “brrrrrr” noise again, but this time he muffles it with his hands, wiggling his eyebrows at you as if to say, Look how creative I am.

“You poor thing,” Minho says to you, ignoring Jisung completely. “What were you thinking dating him?”

“I declare temporary insanity,” you reply, laughing. “All his 90s dream girl talk got to me.”

“You’re still my 90s dream girl!” Jisung exclaims from his corner, his hands still pressed to his cheeks as he wiggles his head dramatically.

Minho rolls his eyes. “Come on, Y/N. Let’s watch something that’s not fucking Howl’s Moving Castle for the 900th time.”

“Sold,” you say immediately, sliding off the bed.

“Wait, what?” Jisung says, his voice rising an octave. “You’re just gonna leave me?”

Minho smirks, adjusting Zak in his arms. “Jisung, sit there for twenty minutes and repent or something.”

“You’re stealing my girlfriend and our fur child!” Jisung protests, scrambling to his feet.

“I’ll make it permanent if you don’t shut up and accept your time-out,” Minho threatens, raising an eyebrow.

Jisung throws his arms in the air, his frustration exaggerated. “I’m a titty fiend! I shouldn’t be punished for that!”

“Well, you fucking are,” Minho deadpans, stepping toward the door with Zak and gesturing for you to follow. “Come on, Y/N. Let’s leave the fiend to his pity party.”

“I have rights!” Jisung shouts after you as you step into the hallway, Minho chuckling under his breath. “You can’t just take my girlfriend and the dog! This is an act of war!”

Minho closes the door behind you, muffling Jisung’s continued protests. He glances at you with a smirk. “You really put up with that every day?”

You laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “He’s ridiculous, but he’s my ridiculous.”

“Temporary insanity,” Minho teases as he starts walking toward the stairs. “Let’s see if I can knock some sense into you with a decent movie.”

Behind the closed door, you can still faintly hear Jisung shouting, “I HAVE RIGHTS!” and you can’t help but laugh.

The living room of the Alpha Phi frat house is comfortably chaotic, the kind of space that reflects the personalities of everyone who lives there. A massive sectional dominates the room, piled with mismatched pillows and throw blankets that no one remembers buying. The faint scent of popcorn lingers from the kitchen, and the hum of an indie playlist plays softly in the background. It’s a rare moment of peace, all the chaos of frat life distilled into a lazy afternoon.

You’re sprawled on the couch with Felix, both of you hunched over his phone, scrolling through a crystal shop’s online catalogue. Felix’s brown mullet bobs as he shifts closer, pointing at a thumbnail of a smoky quartz tower. His glasses slide down his nose, and he pushes them up absentmindedly.

“This one,” Felix says, his tone decisive. “Smoky quartz for grounding. We need that shit in the kitchen after Chan melted the spatula last week.”

“I didn’t melt it,” Chan argues from across the room. He’s sitting on the floor, tossing Zak’s favourite squeaky toy toward Minho, who catches it and tosses it back like they’re playing some weird version of fetch themselves. Zak bounces between them, his brindle fur gleaming under the sunlight streaming through the windows, his tail wagging like it might fly off.

“You fucking did,” Minho says with a snort. “You left it on the stove, genius.”

Zak drops the toy at Chan’s feet, barking once, his tongue lolling happily. Chan throws it again. “It was an accident!”

You and Felix exchange a glance, both rolling your eyes in unison before turning back to the phone. “We definitely need smoky quartz,” you agree. “Also, look at this selenite wand. Cleansing energy for the entryway.”

Felix nods enthusiastically. “Yes! It’ll clear out all the shitty energy people bring in. Like when Jisung tracks mud inside after practice.”

“I don’t track mud-” Jisung starts, but you cut him off with a look. He’s draped over the armrest of the couch, his hair messy and damp from a shower, wearing a hoodie and sweatpants that make him look impossibly soft. "So have you found any good ones?”

“Plenty,” you reply, tilting the phone to show him. “We’re purifying your mud tracks as we speak.”

“I don’t track mud!” he protests again, sitting up and glaring at you. His tone is more indignant than angry, and it makes Felix snicker.

Minho quirks an eyebrow. “Jisung, you actually believe in this crystal shit?”

Jisung shrugs, unbothered, and stretches his arms over his head. “I think Y/N can believe in what she wants if it helps her. I support her.”

Minho’s eyebrow goes higher. “Support her how?”

“Like I support you and Bloody Mary,” Jisung says, smirking.

The toy slips from Minho’s hand, and he shudders so hard Zak stops mid-bounce to tilt his head at him. “Fuck no. Don’t even say that bitch’s name. No bathrooms in the dark for me. Ever.”

Jisung grins, leaning back with his hands behind his head. “That’s why at clubs, I always go to the bathroom with you.”

“Too fucking right,” Minho says, tossing the toy again for Zak. “True bros keep their bros safe from Bloody Mary.”

“I got you, man.” Jisung lifts a fist, and Minho meets it with a loud smack.

Chan, who’s been watching this exchange with growing amusement, shakes his head. “Wait, you actually believe in the Bloody Mary thing?”

“Fuck yes, I do,” Minho says, straightening up. His voice takes on a conspiratorial edge, and you know you’re about to get a classic Minho tangent.

“Listen,” Minho starts, leaning forward like he’s about to deliver the gospel. “Bloody Mary isn’t just some random ghost bullshit. She’s Mary Tudor, as in Mary the First, as in fucking Bloody Mary, queen of England. The bitch burned, like, 300 people at the stake. Protestants, mostly. She was Catholic, right? And her dad, Henry VIII, was all about breaking away from the Catholic Church because he wanted to marry Anne Boleyn, fucking messy family drama, by the way, so Mary basically spends her whole reign trying to reverse all of his Protestant reforms.”

Hyunjin snorts. “Nerd.”

“Shut up,” Minho snaps without heat, continuing his tirade. “So anyway, people start calling her Bloody Mary because of all the executions. And then somehow she gets turned into this creepy bathroom ghost? I don’t know who came up with that shit, but it’s disrespectful as hell.”

Jisung, sprawled like a cat on the couch, grins. “So you believe the ghost part?”

Minho’s expression turns grim. “I don’t fuck with mirrors. Or bathrooms in the dark. No fucking way. You say her name three times, you’re asking for it.”

Chan chuckles, tossing Zak’s toy again. “That’s a stretch, dude.”

“It’s not!” Minho insists, his voice rising. “Mirrors are a gateway. Everyone fucking knows that. And if you say her name, it’s like inviting her in. Like... like a mirror demon or some shit. It’s common fucking sense.”

Zak barks once, as if agreeing, and Felix bursts into laughter. “Oh my god, you’re serious.”

“Dead serious,” Minho replies, crossing his arms. “Call me crazy, but I’m not risking my life over a bathroom dare.”

“Bloody Mary’s not gonna come for you,” Chan says, shaking his head with a grin.

“You don’t know that,” Minho fires back. “What if she’s pissed off that I insulted her? You don’t fucking tempt fate.”

Hyunjin, sprawled across the armchair like it’s a throne, finally chimes in with a shudder. “I don’t fuck with those Virgin Ghosts.”

Everyone pauses, turning toward him, and he sits up straighter, waving his hands for emphasis. “You know the ones, white dresses, long dark hair, looking like they crawled straight out of The Ring. Fuck that.”

Chan laughs, but it’s a little nervous. “Mine’s the eyeless woman. You know, the one people see in their sleep paralysis? Fuck that bitch. Or toilet ghosts.”

Minho points at him. “Fuck toilet ghosts. They’re the worst.”

Hyunjin snorts. “Why are toilets such a common fucking haunting spot?”

“Because they’re vulnerable as fuck!” Minho exclaims, sitting up, his voice full of righteous indignation. “You’re literally pants-down, defenceless. A ghost shows up, what the fuck are you gonna do? Waddle away?”

Everyone bursts into laughter, Felix smacking his knee as he doubles over. “Waddle away,” he repeats through his laughter, and you can’t help giggling, too, shaking your head.

Felix sits up, wiping at his eyes. “Y/N and I don’t worry about that shit. You know why? Immaculate vibes, sage, and crystals.”

“Exactly,” you say, holding up a fist toward Felix. He meets it with his own, both of you nodding like you’ve just solved world peace.

Minho scoffs. “I’d like to see sage hold off Bloody Mary.”

Felix raises an eyebrow, his expression calm and confident. “It would.”

“Bullshit,” Minho mutters, leaning back against the couch, arms crossed. Zak, as if sensing the tension, trots over and drops his squeaky toy in Minho’s lap. Minho sighs, picking it up absentmindedly. “Fucking sage isn’t doing shit against a pissed-off ghost.”

Felix grins, his faith unshakable. “Your negativity is why you’re a target.”

Minho throws the toy for Zak, muttering under his breath, “Fucking target.”

Just then, the door to the living room creaks open, and one of the new freshman pledges steps in hesitantly, holding a stack of papers. He’s wide-eyed, clearly intimidated, and freezes when he sees the group sprawled around like the house royalty they are.

“Uh, hi,” he starts, his voice shaky. “I was told to bring-”

“Pleb three!” Minho declares loudly, cutting him off and pointing. “Get in here.”

The poor kid shuffles in, clearly trying not to trip over his own feet. You glance at Minho, frowning slightly. “Minho, don’t call him that. You’re so mean.”

Minho shrugs, unapologetic. “What? We have six new pledges. Pleb one through six. He’s three.”

The pledge looks like he wants the ground to swallow him up, and you sigh, shooting him a reassuring smile. “Don’t mind him. He’s just... like that.”

Minho ignores you completely, turning back to the pledge. “Pleb, go make cocktails for all of us. And remember, no fucking cheap-ass shit. I want something classy.”

The pledge nods quickly, backing toward the door, but Minho holds up a hand, stopping him mid-step. “Oh, and one more thing,” he adds, his tone sharp. “You can’t look at members’ girlfriends either.” He flicks a dismissive hand. “Eyes off. Got it?”

The pledge stares at him for a second before covering his eyes with one hand, holding the papers with the other. “Got it,” he says weakly, stumbling out of the room.

Jisung, who’s been quietly observing from his spot on the couch, lets out a loud snicker. “Minho, you’re fucking insane.”

“What?” Minho says, feigning innocence. “I’m protecting your jagiya, aren’t I?”

“Barely,” you mutter, shaking your head. “You’re scaring him half to death.”

“Good,” Minho says, leaning back with a smirk. “Keeps them on their toes.”

Chan shakes his head, throwing Zak’s toy again. “One of these days, Minho, you’re gonna scare a pledge so bad they’ll quit.”

“Good,” Minho repeats. “If they can’t handle me, they can’t handle this house.” He gestures dramatically at the room as if it’s a fortress rather than a mildly chaotic frat space.

Jisung leans over, resting his head on your shoulder. “You’re too nice to hang out with him, jagiya.”

You smile, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Maybe I just balance him out.”

Felix hums thoughtfully. “Y/N does have impeccable vibes. Minho, you could probably use some of her sage.”

“Fuck off, Felix,”

The sound of the dryer hums faintly in the background as you sit cross-legged on Jisung’s bed, folding the week’s laundry into neat piles. Your white blouse is tied casually above your navel, and the light acid-wash mom jeans you’re wearing feel comfortably snug. A citrine necklace rests against your collarbone, glinting softly in the afternoon light as you work, occasionally brushing back stray strands of hair that escape your seashell claw clip. Jisung sits at the foot of the bed, surrounded by a sea of mismatched socks, diligently trying to pair them up.

“This one?” he asks, holding up a lonely grey sock, squinting at it as if it might magically reveal its partner.

You glance at it and shake your head. “Nope, that’s from the gym set. The other one is probably hiding under your desk.”

“Fucking socks,” he mutters, tossing it into a growing pile of misfits. “It’s like they have a secret society or something. They plan their disappearances.”

You laugh softly, smoothing out one of his hoodies before folding it neatly. “Secret sock society?”

“Don’t act like it’s not real, jagiya,” he says, waving a pair of black socks in the air triumphantly. “These two almost escaped, but I got ‘em.”

“Hero of the day,” you tease, shooting him a smile as you stack another pile of folded clothes.

The two of you fall into a comfortable rhythm, his occasional grumbles about sock conspiracies mixing with the soft rustle of clothes being folded. It’s peaceful, the kind of mundane intimacy that feels almost sacred.

But then your brow furrows, your hands pausing as you sift through your stack of folded laundry. Something is missing. Two somethings, to be exact.

“Ji,” you say, voice suspicious.

“Yeah, jagiya?” He doesn’t look up, too focused on wrestling with a stubborn sock.

“My thongs are missing.”

That gets his attention. His head snaps up, and he blinks at you, confused. “Wait, what?”

You hold up your fingers for emphasis. “Two. My red lace and my black lace. Gone.”

Jisung lets out a dramatic gasp, clutching his chest like you’ve just told him the worst news of his life. “Not the red lace! Lord, say it isn’t so!”

“And the black lace,” you add grimly.

“No!” he cries, dropping the socks in his hands and crawling closer to you on the bed. “This is a tragedy.”

“I’m not joking, Ji,” you say, though you can’t help the small laugh that escapes as you watch his theatrics. “I swear if I find one of your idiot frat brothers wearing them on their head again-”

“Minho did that one time.”

“One time too many.”

“Fair,” he concedes, flopping back onto the bed dramatically. “But might I remind you that my idiot frat brothers are also your friends?”

“Only during the hours they don’t have my panties on their heads,” you shoot back, smirking.

Jisung sits up, grinning as he reaches out to grab your hand. “Don’t worry, jagiya. If I see one of those assholes wearing your thongs, I’ll wrestle it off their head myself.”

You shake your head, biting back a laugh. “How noble of you.”

“What can I say? I’m a man of principle,” he replies, kissing your cheek quickly before going back to his pile of socks. “But seriously, we should check the laundry room. Maybe they’re still in the dryer or something.”

“Yeah, maybe,” you agree, though you’re still suspicious. You eye Jisung as he focuses on his socks again, wondering if he’s hiding something.

“Stop staring at me like I did it,” he says without looking up.

“I’m not staring!” you protest, laughing.

“You so fucking are,” he says, grinning as he finally looks up. “If I had your thongs, jagiya, trust me. You’d know. Wait a fucking second.” He slaps the wall that separates his room from Minho’s. The thud reverberates loudly, and you flinch slightly at the sound.

“Minho!” Jisung shouts, smacking the wall again for good measure.

“What?!” Minho’s muffled voice comes from the other side, annoyed and sharp.

“Have you got Y/N’s panties on your head again?!” Jisung yells back, his tone accusatory but dripping with humour.

There’s a beat of silence before Minho replies, incredulous, “I wear your girlfriend’s panties on my head one time when I’m drunk, and suddenly I’m always the fucking suspect?! Might I remind you that you double dared me to do that!”

You can’t hold back your laugh, shaking your head as you fold another one of Jisung’s hoodies. “Oh my god,” you mutter under your breath, biting your lip to keep from laughing louder.

“That is true,” Jisung concedes, nodding solemnly. “I did double dare you.”

“And I am no bitch when it comes to a double dare!” Minho fires back, his tone haughty and self-righteous.

“Also true,” Jisung agrees, shrugging.

But Minho isn’t done. “Might I also remind you that you were the one who grabbed her black and green bra, held it up to your fucking eyes, and told everyone you were a fly?”

Jisung pauses, his lips twitching. “I did do that.”

“Damn right, you did,” Minho snaps. “So don’t start throwing accusations at me, you little shit.”

“Okay, okay,” Jisung says, holding up his hands as if Minho could see him through the wall. “Do you have her thongs, though?”

“No!” Minho shouts, clearly exasperated. “Why the fuck would I want her thongs? Jesus Christ, Jisung!”

“Just checking!” Jisung calls back before flopping back down on the bed beside you, grinning.

You give him a flat look, raising an eyebrow. “Are you done harassing Minho?”

“Not yet.” Jisung suddenly gasps, sitting up straight again. “Wait! The card you pulled! Theft! Deception! Someone being sneaky!”

“See? It’s real!”

Jisung blinks, nodding slowly as if connecting all the dots. “Holy shit. You might convert me to a tarot believer yet, jagiya.”

“Finally!” you exclaim, throwing your hands up in victory. “No more calling it woo-woo shit!”

“When have I ever called it woo-woo shit?”

You arch an eyebrow at him, folding your arms across your chest. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

His mouth opens, then shuts, then opens again. “Okay,” he admits sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “I may have said it... once or twice.”

“Try ten times,” 

Jisung winces. “Alright, fine. But look, I’m seeing the light now, jagiya. The cards knew. They knew! Your missing panties are proof.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling at his sudden enthusiasm. “Better late than never, I guess.”

“Exactly,” he says, leaning over to press a kiss to your cheek. “So what does the card say we do about the thief? Do we stage a fucking heist to get them back? Interrogate Minho with a spotlight?”

You laugh, pushing his face away lightly. “It’s a warning card, Ji. It doesn’t give step-by-step instructions.”

“Well, it should,” he mutters, leaning back. “Fucking useless card.”

You shake your head, but you’re grinning as you go back to folding the laundry. “Maybe if you fully believed in the cards, you’d get more out of them.”

“Oh, I’m a believer now,” Jisung says, nodding sagely. “The cards have spoken, and I will honour their wisdom.”

You snort, glancing at him fondly. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love me for it,” 

The living room is buzzing with curiosity and chaos as the main crew gathers. Jisung sits in the oversized armchair, you perched comfortably on his lap. His hand is lazily stroking your head like you’re a cat, and he’s some villainous mastermind plotting world domination. Zak darts around the room, wagging his tail like he’s chasing invisible ghosts, occasionally bumping into people as they stand in a loose semicircle around you.

Jisung clears his throat dramatically, his free hand gesturing with flair. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he begins, his tone theatrical, “a grave crime has been committed under our roof.”

Everyone straightens up slightly, looking at each other in confusion.

Jisung points at the group, his eyes narrowing. “Someone has stolen Y/N’s lacy thongs.”

Felix’s gasp is immediate and horrified. “No!”

“Yes,” Jisung says, his expression dark and sombre. “I am heartbroken, devastated even. My jagiya’s precious thongs have been taken, and this mystery must be solved.”

Felix clutches his chest like he’s about to faint. “This is a tragedy.”

Chan sits back on the couch, crossing his arms and eyeing the room warily. “Alright, who’s the thief?”

The room goes silent for a moment before, almost instinctively, all eyes land on Minho. He sighs heavily, dragging a hand down his face. “I fucking knew I should never have accepted that stupid dare to wear her panties on my head. Now you all think I’m some panty-stealing deviant.”

Seungmin raises an eyebrow, his voice sharp with sarcasm. “Are you?”

“Of course fucking not!” Minho snaps, glaring at him.

“Well,” Chan interjects, trying to steer the conversation, “when was the last time you saw them?”

You sit up slightly, your brow furrowing in thought. “When I put them in the laundry basket. They were definitely there.”

Everyone once again turns to Minho, who throws his hands up in frustration. “Oh, come on! It wasn’t me!”

Changbin, who’s leaning casually against the arm of the couch, tilts his head thoughtfully. “Can we just take a moment to process the fact that someone stole Y/N’s used panties?”

You shudder at the thought, hugging yourself as a wave of discomfort rolls through you. Jisung immediately rubs your back, his touch soothing. “It’s okay, jagiya,” he murmurs. “We’ll figure it out.”

But then, as if struck by a bolt of lightning, Jisung sits up straight, his eyes wide with horror. “Oh my fucking god,” he exclaims, his voice loud and panicked. “Someone is sniffing my girlfriend’s used panties!”

Changbin snorts so hard he has to hide his laugh behind his hand, his shoulders shaking. Chan bites his lip, failing miserably to suppress a giggle, while Felix pulls his hoodie strings so tight his face disappears as he dissolves into laughter. Seungmin and Hyunjin exchange looks before breaking into outright snickers.

Jisung is relentless. “They’re smelling my girlfriend’s vagina smell! What kind of sick-”

“Ji!” you interrupt, mortified, pressing your hand firmly against his mouth. Your cheeks are burning as you hide your face in his shoulder, your voice muffled as you whine, “Oh my god, stop!”

The guys lose it. Changbin’s laughter is loud and unapologetic now, his hand slapping against the couch. Felix has nearly folded himself in half, muffled giggles escaping from the depths of his hoodie. Chan shakes his head, laughing so hard his eyes crinkle at the corners.

Jeongin, the youngest but clearly as chaotic as the rest, raises a hand like he’s in class. “What if they’re licking the panties, too?”

Jisung pulls your hand away, ready to reply. “Only I lick-”

You cut him off with a quick, desperate press of your hand back against his mouth. “Jisung, stop!” you cry, burying your face deeper into his shoulder as the group erupts into another wave of uncontrollable laughter.

Hyunjin, wiping tears from his eyes, finally manages to speak. “You know,” he says, catching his breath, “someone probably sold them. You can make bank off used panties.”

You let out a loud whine, muffled into Jisung’s hoodie, while he strokes your back soothingly. “Don’t worry, jagiya,” he says, his tone serious but with a mischievous glint in his eye. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. And if someone is making money off your panties, we’re demanding fucking royalties.”

The week passes without incident. Until it doesn’t. You’re folding laundry on Jisung’s bed, sitting cross-legged in your usual spot while he lounges nearby in nothing but his boxers, scrolling on his phone. Your blue cotton lounge pants and bralette feel soft and familiar, your makeup-free face showing off the faint freckles dusted across your cheeks. The peaceful rhythm of folding clothes is abruptly shattered when you let out a horrified gasp.

Jisung looks up immediately, concern flashing across his face. “What? What happened?”

“My lacy boyshorts! My favourite pair of underwear! Gone!”

Jisung freezes, his phone slipping from his hands. Then he leaps to his feet with a theatrical flourish. “No. No!” he shouts. “House meeting! Everyone, to my room immediately!”

The sound of heavy footsteps fills the hallway as the guys shuffle in, groaning and confused. Chan’s hair is slightly damp, probably from a quick shower, while Minho and Hyunjin look like they were in the middle of a heated FIFA match. Felix clutches a snack, shoving chips into his mouth as he walks, and Jeongin and Seungmin appear with their usual air of “why are we even fucking here?”

Jisung stands dramatically in the middle of the room, pointing at the group as they gather. “Once again,” he declares, his voice booming, “the panty thief strikes!”

Felix, who’s perched on the edge of the bed, widens his eyes. “Dude, someone is seriously stealing your panties.” 

“They stole my favourite pair, Lix!” you say, your voice a mix of despair and disbelief.

Felix gasps, his chips forgotten as he pats your head gently, then pulls you into a comforting cuddle. You lean into him, grateful for his warmth, as he says solemnly, “Don’t worry. We’ll hold a funeral service. They deserve a proper send-off.”

You laugh softly despite the situation, shaking your head against his shoulder.

Minho, leaning casually against the desk, crosses his arms and tilts his head. “You know,” he says, his tone disturbingly calm, “if they haven’t sold them, they’re probably jerking their dick with your panties.”

Jisung stiffens, spinning around to glare at him. “That is a sin! Dishonor on my good name!”

Chan raises an eyebrow, barely able to contain a grin. “Dishonor on you?”

“Yes, on me!” Jisung exclaims, pointing at himself indignantly. “Someone is probably wanking with my girlfriend’s used panties. They dishonour her, so they dishonour me! When I find this hooligan, I’m going to stick them in the washing machine and put it on a hot wash!”

The room erupts into laughter at Jisung’s outburst. Changbin doubles over, clutching his stomach, while Felix hides his face in his hands, shaking with silent giggles. You’re biting your lip, trying not to laugh, but Jisung’s dramatics make it nearly impossible.

Jeongin, ever the voice of practicality, raises his hand. “Okay, but, like, just buy new panties?”

Jisung whirls on him, his eyes wide with disbelief. “That is not the point! This isn’t about new panties! It’s about justice! Someone has stolen her used panties! A crime! A threat to my manhood! I must duel this thief to the death! With a stick! Like they did on the horses back in the day.”

Seungmin, leaning against the wall, rolls his eyes. “That’s jousting, you idiot. And it wasn’t a death match.”

“It might as well have been!” Jisung shoots back, throwing his hands in the air. “The point is, I have to defend my jagiya’s honour!”

Hyunjin lazily flips his hair out of his eyes. “Can we all just take a moment to remember that Minho is the only person in this room, besides Jisung, to have ever touched her panties?”

The room falls silent as everyone turns to Minho again. He groans loudly, swatting at Hyunjin. “It is not me, you unfairly beautiful bastard!”

Hyunjin smirks, dodging the swat with ease. “Defensiveness sounds like guilt to me.”

“Fuck off,” Minho grumbles, shaking his head. “I don’t even want your damn panties. I just wanted to win a dare. This is all Jisung’s fault anyway for making me do it.”

Jisung glares at Minho but says nothing, instead wrapping his arms around you. “Don’t worry, jagiya,” he murmurs softly, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “We’re going to solve this if it’s the last thing I do. No one gets away with disrespecting you like this.”

The guys groan, already bracing themselves for whatever chaos Jisung’s plan might bring. But as ridiculous as the situation is, there’s an unspoken agreement among them: this mystery will be solved.

The Times Square shopping centre in Seoul is buzzing with life, a vibrant mix of chatter, footsteps, and the occasional burst of laughter echoing through the spacious halls. You’re walking hand in hand with Jisung, his grip firm and warm. 

Your black turtleneck is tucked neatly into your black shorts, sheer tights peeking out from underneath, and the thigh-high boots you’re wearing click softly against the polished floor. The golden chain belt around your waist glimmers faintly under the overhead lights. Jisung, next to you, looks effortlessly striking in black cargos and boots, his blue and black compression top hugging his broad chest and muscular arms in a way that makes him stand out in the crowd. His messy blue hair adds a carefree charm to his sharp appearance.

The two of you turn into the Victoria’s Secret store, the soft pink glow of its signage welcoming you inside. The scent of vanilla and floral perfumes greets you, mingling with the faint rustle of fabric as customers browse the racks.

“Spend as much as you want, jagiya,” Jisung says immediately, his voice warm and encouraging. “Replace your stolen panties, get some new ones, retail therapy. My treat.” He grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Because, you know, I get to see you in them.”

You giggle, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet you love me,” he replies smoothly, reaching out to pluck a lacy black bralette from a nearby rack. He holds it up, inspecting it with an exaggeratedly critical eye before tossing it into the basket on his arm. “This one’s sexy as fuck. It’s a must.”

The store is lined with rows of lingerie in every imaginable style and colour. You wander slowly, taking in the intricate lace details and delicate embroidery. Jisung stays close, clearly invested in the selection process. He pauses by a display of pastel-coloured sets, picking up a soft lavender bra with matching panties. “This would look amazing on you,” he says, adding it to the growing collection in the basket.

“Most guys would be standing outside right now, you know,” you tease, watching as he browses like he owns the place.

“And miss this?” He gestures around the store dramatically, then points to you. “Miss being in heaven, getting to pick out my girlfriend’s lingerie? Fuck that.”

You laugh, shaking your head as he continues to browse, clearly enjoying himself. “You’re ridiculous.”

He smirks, picking up a red lace set and holding it up for you to see. “Ridiculously lucky. You should try this one on. Actually-” He tosses it into the basket before you can respond. “No need. I already know it’ll look amazing.”

You snort, glancing at the basket on his arm, which is quickly filling up. “Are you trying to buy out the whole store?”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “You deserve the best. Should we grab boba after this? You’ve got that I need sugar look.”

“Yeah, boba sounds good,” you say, smiling. “My treat, though, because you’re about to break your bank in here.”

“Fair trade,” he says, nodding as he picks up a lacy blue set, admiring the delicate straps before tossing it into the basket with a grin. “But let’s make it a large. I’ll need it after carrying this financial burden.”

You laugh, leaning into his side as the two of you make your way toward another section of the store. He pauses by a rack of silk robes, running his fingers over the fabric. “What about this?” he asks, holding up a short, champagne-colored robe.

“For lounging around the house?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Or for seducing your boyfriend,” he replies smoothly, his tone teasing. “Dual purpose.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t stop the smile on your face as he adds it to the basket. “You’re seriously too much.”

“Too much? Or just enough?” He leans down, his face close to yours, his grin playful.

You shake your head, pushing him lightly. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet you love me,” he says again, his confidence unwavering as he grabs another set off a nearby rack. The basket on his arm is practically overflowing now, but he doesn’t seem to care.

When you finally make it to the register, the cashier raises an eyebrow at the sheer volume of items. Jisung doesn’t bat an eye, pulling out his card like a man on a mission. 

As the cashier rings up the items, you glance at the total and let out a soft whistle. “You sure you’re okay with this?”

“Absolutely,�� Jisung says, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Retail therapy works wonders, and seeing you happy? Worth every won.”

You smile, leaning into him as the cashier finishes bagging the items. As the two of you leave the store, Jisung carrying the bags like they’re trophies, he turns to you with a grin. “Boba now?”

“Boba now,” you agree, laughing as he leads you toward the food court.

Jisung swings the bags lightly, his grin ever-present. “Best shopping trip ever.”

Laundry day comes again, and you and Jisung are back in his room, sorting through freshly cleaned clothes. The atmosphere is relaxed as you fold shirts into neat piles and Jisung matches up socks. You’re wearing white lounge pants and a black bralette, your hair messily tied up in a bun with strands framing your face. Your socks are mismatched and fluffy, a detail Jisung keeps teasing you about.

“Do you do this on purpose?” he asks, holding up your feet for inspection. “Like, is it a vibe or-”

“It’s laundry day, Ji,” you reply with a smirk. “All my matching ones are in the basket. Besides, they’re comfy.”

Before he can retort, your hands pause mid-fold. You sift through the pile of freshly laundered clothes, brow furrowing. “Wait a second...”

Jisung notices immediately. “What’s wrong?”

“My new panties... they’re gone.” Then realization dawns, and your eyes widen. “No. No, no, no. My bra is gone too! They’ve evolved! They’re taking my bras!”

Jisung stares at you in horror, his mouth falling open. “The titty support?” he exclaims. “How fucking dare they!”

You laugh despite your frustration, but Jisung’s dramatics continue. He gestures wildly to the room as if addressing the universe. “Do they not understand the sanctity of a bra? The pain of unsupported boobs? Your poor back, jagiya.”

You snort. “My back is fine”

“No, it’s not!” he interrupts, suddenly moving behind you and cupping your boobs with both hands. “Your back is crying out for help. Don’t worry. I’ll hold them up with my own two hands. Problem solved.”

“Jisung!” you squeal, laughing as you try to wriggle out of his grip, but he just adjusts his hold, resting his chin on your shoulder with a smug grin.

“Perfect,” he says as if he’s genuinely proud of himself. “See? No bra needed. I’ll do this all day.”

You roll your eyes, still laughing. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously devoted,” he corrects, giving your boobs a playful bounce for emphasis. But before he can call for a house meeting, there’s a knock at the door, and then it swings open as the rest of the guys shuffle in uninvited.

Seungmin is the first to speak, his voice dripping with exasperation. “Again?”

Jisung spins around, still holding your boobs protectively. “This creep has evolved,” he announces, his tone dark. “He’s stealing matching sets now! Bra and panties!”

Felix’s eyes immediately lock on Jisung’s hands. “Uh, why are you holding her boobs?”

Jisung doesn’t miss a beat. “Because the perv is stealing her bras, Felix! I’m protecting her spine.”

Felix raises an eyebrow. “Seems legit,” he mutters, but his lips twitch like he’s fighting a laugh.

Changbin crosses his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Minho, didn’t you once say you like blue underwear?”

Minho freezes mid-step, his expression scandalized. “Oh, come on! This has been going on for three weeks. If I were the panty thief, which, let me remind you, I am not, it would’ve been one and done! Why the fuck does this guy need so many pairs?”

Seungmin tilts his head thoughtfully, but his face twists in mild disgust as he continues. “Well, if we’re going with the theory that he’s keeping them, then it probably means they’re all, uh, crusted with old jizz.”

The room erupts.

“What the fuck, Seungmin?!” Jisung shouts, gagging dramatically as he finally lets go of your boobs to clutch his stomach.

Felix covers his mouth with both hands, his eyes wide in horror. “Ew! Ew, ew, ew!”

Hyunjin clutches his chest like he’s about to faint. “Why the fuck would you say that out loud?”

Even Changbin, who rarely shies away from crude humour, looks appalled. “Dude, what the fuck?!”

Chan, who had been leaning silently against the desk, grimaces. “I’m gonna need brain bleach after this conversation.”

You stand there, stunned and horrified, before you let out a loud groan, burying your face in your hands. “Oh my god, can we not?”

Jisung, ever your champion, regains his composure first. He places a hand on your shoulder, his expression serious. “Don’t worry, jagiya,” he says solemnly. “We’ll catch this fucker. And when we do, I’m putting his ass through the washing machine on the spin cycle.”

Hyunjin clears his throat, still looking mildly traumatized. “Seungmin, you’re banned from speculating about the thief’s habits. Forever.”

“Seconded,” Minho says quickly, shoving Seungmin lightly as if to physically push the thought away. “And for the last time, it’s not me. I’m offended you guys keep looking at me like I’m the panty goblin.”

“You are still the only one in this room, besides Jisung, to have touched her underwear,” Hyunjin points out, smirking as Minho groans.

“It’s not fucking me, you unfairly beautiful bastard!” Minho snaps, swatting at Hyunjin, who easily dodges with a laugh. "Stop pointing fingers at me just because I dared to be a team player once!”

“Sounds like something a panty thief would say.”

As the room devolves into bickering, Jisung sighs, shaking his head. “This is getting us nowhere,” he mutters. Then, louder, he adds, “But mark my fucking words. We’re catching this asshole. And when we do, they’re done.”

The week has been a tense one, with every passing day filled with speculation, jokes, and frustration. But tonight, Jisung is determined to end it. He sets his trap with meticulous care, placing mousetraps inside the laundry basket in the laundry room. The basket is filled with unwashed clothes, including a decoy pair of your panties, a plain, older pair he sacrificially snuck into the mix. It’s all bait, and the trap is set.

You’re lounging on the couch in the living room with the rest of the Alpha Phi crew, dressed in sage green lounge pants and a matching bralette. Your hair is messily tied up in a bun, and your mismatched fluffy socks peek out as you curl your legs beneath you. The group is scattered across the room, chatting idly, the usual chaos subdued by the lazy hum of the evening.

Jisung sits beside you, bouncing his leg nervously, his attention divided between your conversation and his ears straining for any sound from the laundry room. The tension is palpable.

Then it happens, a sharp snap echoes through the house, followed by a loud, panicked yelp.

Jisung jumps to his feet, his eyes wide with excitement. “The panty thief!” he shouts, already darting toward the hallway. The rest of you scramble after him, the energy in the room going from zero to chaotic in seconds.

The group floods into the laundry room, and there, standing frozen with a mousetrap clamped firmly onto his hand, is Pledge Five. His face is a mixture of pain, panic, and guilt, his free hand flailing helplessly as he tries to pry the trap loose.

“Pleb Five!” Minho exclaims, his voice dripping with disdain. He crosses his arms, glaring at the red-faced freshman. “No. You’re not Pleb Five anymore. From now on, you’re Pleb Perv.”

Jisung steps forward, his expression livid as he points an accusatory finger at the pledge. “You! What did you do to my girlfriend’s panties?!”

“Please don’t answer that,” you mutter, your voice weary as you press a hand to your forehead.

The pledge stammers, his mouth opening and closing uselessly, but Minho’s not about to let him off the hook. “Look at his fucking face!” Minho says, pointing for emphasis. “He jerked it with her underwear. I fucking knew it.”

The pledge’s face flushes a deep, incriminating red, and the room collectively groans.

“I’ve been fighting accusations for weeks, you dirty little bastard!” Minho yells, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Weeks! And it was you the whole fucking time!”

Jisung’s fury flares even brighter. “Get in the washing machine!” he demands, pointing to the industrial-sized appliance in the corner.

The pledge blinks, his panic momentarily replaced by confusion. “What?”

Chan steps forward, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. “Jisung, we can’t put him in the washing machine.”

“Why not?” Jisung snaps. “He put his dirty, nasty, little dick on my girlfriend’s fucking panties! He deserves it!”

Hyunjin, who’s been watching the scene unfold with wide-eyed amusement, chimes in. “Let’s just get this straight.” He looks at the pledge, tilting his head. “Did you jerk it with Y/N’s panties?”

The pledge hesitates, his gaze darting around the room before he finally nods, his head dropping in shame.

“Fucking hell,” Felix mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is so fucked.”

Minho throws his hands up again, clearly exasperated. “I told you all it wasn’t me, but nooooo, everyone blamed Minho! And it was this little shit the whole time!”

Felix steps forward, his expression serious now. “Where is her underwear?”

The pledge gulps audibly, avoiding eye contact as he mumbles, “Under my mattress.”

Another collective groan ripples through the group, louder this time. Hyunjin gags dramatically, covering his mouth with his hand.

“That’s fucking disgusting,” Changbin says, his voice filled with disbelief.

“Burn the whole house down,” Seungmin mutters, shaking his head.

Chan steps forward, his authoritative presence silencing the chaos momentarily. “Alright, listen. Get the fuck out. Pack your shit. We’ll ship it to your new address. You’re done here.”

The pledge’s mouth opens like he’s about to argue, but one look from Chan shuts him up. He nods weakly, wincing as he tries to remove the mousetrap from his hand.

Minho claps his hands together, his tone suddenly chipper. “Great! I’ll grab supplies for recovery and disposal.” Without another word, he disappears down the hallway, leaving everyone else staring at the humiliated pledge.

Jisung takes a deep breath, his hand sliding into yours as he looks at you with a mix of anger and protectiveness. “Don’t worry, jagiya,” he says softly. “This shit’s over. No one disrespects you like that and gets away with it.”

You nod, squeezing his hand. “Let’s just hope Minho doesn’t come back with a flamethrower.”

Hyunjin laughs softly, shaking his head. “Would anyone even blame him if he did?”

The group trudges upstairs, a tense, horrified energy hanging over everyone as they make their way to the pledge’s room. Minho leads the charge, armed with a trash bag, rubber gloves, and a pair of tongs that look like they were stolen from the kitchen. You stay close to Jisung, who’s muttering under his breath about unwashed pledges and crimes against humanity.

Chan is the first to reach the bed, and he grabs the edge of the mattress with a sigh. “Alright, let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

As he lifts the mattress, everyone leans in—and collective groans of disgust ripple through the group. Beneath the mattress is a stash of your missing panties and bras, folded haphazardly but undeniably there. 

Jisung recoils instantly, gagging. “Oh my fucking god. Ew! There’s- That’s- That’s on my girlfriend’s panties!”

“Jizz,” Minho declares flatly, leaning in with his tongs like a forensic investigator at a crime scene. “It’s old, crusty jizz. This is a biohazard.”

The whole room groans again, and Jisung looks like he’s going to throw up. Minho, completely unfazed, crouches down and starts picking up the offending items one by one with the tongs. “Alright,” he says, his tone matter-of-fact, “trash bag open. Gloves on. Let’s get this shit cleaned up.”

Jisung points accusingly at him, his disgust temporarily overridden by a smirk. “I dare you to put these ones on your head.”

Minho snorts, holding up a particularly stiff-looking pair of panties with the tongs. “And get pink eye from old jizz? Fuck no.”

Felix, who’s leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, grins. “But you put Y/N’s clean panties on your head, though.”

Minho shrugs, unfazed. “Get me drunk enough, and I’d wear fucking panties. Hell, I’d rock them.”

“Good to know,” Seungmin mutters, looking like he’s trying not to vomit.

Minho waves the stiff panties around like a flag. “Look at this shit! They’re fucking stiff. This isn’t fabric anymore, it’s a weapon.”

You’re the first to crack, a loud laugh bursting out of you as you lean against Jisung for support. “Oh my god, Minho, stop!”

“I’m serious!” Minho says, grinning as he waves the panties again. “Feel this. It’s like cardboard. How many times did this dude nut in your panties?!”

The room descends into chaos. Felix doubles over, laughter muffled against his hoodie sleeve. Hyunjin is next, his laughter loud and unrestrained as he clutches the doorframe for support. Changbin starts laughing so hard he has to sit on the floor, while Seungmin and Jeongin exchange horrified glances before breaking into fits of giggles.

Jisung, however, remains rooted to the spot, his expression one of pure horror. “This isn’t funny,” he says, but his voice wavers as if he’s fighting the urge to laugh. Beside him, Chan pinches the bridge of his nose, his face twitching as he tries to keep a straight face.

Minho, meanwhile, is fully committed to his role as narrator. He picks up another pair of panties, holding it delicately with the tongs as he examines it. “Here we have Exhibit B,” he says in a faux-serious tone. “Notice the uneven crust patterns. This suggests a man who lacks precision, perhaps caught up in the throes of self fulfillment”

“Minho, stop!” you cry, tears streaming down your face as you laugh uncontrollably.

“Can’t stop,” Minho replies, deadpan. “Won’t stop. The people deserve to know the truth.”

He moves on to the matching blue bra, lifting it carefully. His face twists in exaggerated disgust. “And here we have the pièce de résistance,” he says, gesturing to the inside of the cups. “The bra. Notice the texture.”

“Don’t,” Jisung warns, his voice low and dangerous.

Minho doesn’t listen. “It looks like spoiled breast milk in the cups,” he says, shaking the bra for emphasis. “That’s how much he spaffed in this thing. His jizz looks like spoiled fucking breast milk.”

The room explodes again. Felix collapses onto the floor, wheezing as Hyunjin clings to him for support. Seungmin and Jeongin are doubled over, tears streaming down their faces, while Changbin has to lie back against the wall to catch his breath.

You’re gasping for air, clutching Jisung’s arm as you laugh so hard your stomach aches. “Minho, you’re going to kill us!”

“Hey, I’m just reporting the facts,” Minho replies, tossing the bra into the trash bag with a flourish. “And the facts are fucking disgusting.”

Jisung, still horrified, shakes his head. “I’m going to burn this room to the ground.”

“Let me grab the bleach first,” Minho says cheerfully, sealing the trash bag. “We’re going to need it.”

As the laughter dies down, Chan steps forward, his face now calm but stern. “Alright, let’s finish this and make sure this perv is out of the house by tonight.”

Everyone nods, though the occasional giggle still bubbles up as Minho lugs the bag toward the door, narrating under his breath about “the tragic tale of crusty lingerie.” You can’t help but laugh again, even as Jisung pulls you close, shaking his head with a mix of amusement and exhaustion.

“This fucking house,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to your temple.

The entire group makes their way outside to the frat house’s backyard, where the fire pit stands as the centrepiece of many questionable decisions. The cool night air carries the faint scent of grass, and the fire pit glows dimly as Seungmin crouches to light it. The flames lick to life, crackling and snapping as everyone gathers around.

Minho, with the trash bag of “evidence” slung over his shoulder like some deranged Santa Claus, steps forward dramatically. “Alright,” he announces, “time to cleanse this house of its filth.”

“Cleanse the house?” Hyunjin echoes, smirking. “You’re literally about to burn jizz-crusted underwear. That’s not cleansing. That’s fumigating.”

Minho ignores him, holding the bag out over the flames. “Farewell to these cursed artefacts,” he intones. “May their spirit haunt no one.”

With that, he dumps the entire bag into the fire. The flames roar higher for a moment as the bag’s contents catch, and a faintly acrid smell fills the air. Everyone groans and steps back, waving their hands.

“Fuck,” Changbin mutters, covering his nose. “That smells worse than Jisung’s gym socks.”

“Hey!” Jisung snaps, glaring at him. “Unnecessary.”

As the flames die back down, you cross your arms, staring at the fire with a frown. “You know,” you say, your tone dry, “that’s like 750,000 won worth of underwear.”

Minho, still holding the tongs like some bizarre ceremonial tool, whirls around to face you. “Why the fuck is your underwear so expensive?!”

“Because I’m classy,” you reply, lifting your chin with mock indignation.

“Fuck yeah, she is,” Jisung cuts in proudly, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “Classiest jagiya on the planet.”

Felix snickers, nudging Jeongin. “She’s got champagne taste in panties, clearly.”

“Alright, alright,” Minho interrupts, raising a hand like a preacher about to deliver a sermon. “If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it right. Everyone, gather ‘round. It’s time for... a prayer.”

“A prayer?” Seungmin deadpans, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Minho says seriously. “We must honour the departed and also beg the universe to never let this shit happen again.”

Everyone exchanges amused glances, but they shuffle closer to the fire, forming a loose circle.

Minho clears his throat, holding the tongs reverently over the flames like a sceptre. “Dear holy powers of expensive-ass lingerie,” he begins, his voice deep and dramatic, “we gather here tonight to mourn the loss of Y/N’s panties and bras, taken too soon, sullied by the hands and jizz of a perv.”

“Oh my god,” you mutter, hiding your face in Jisung’s shoulder as the group dissolves into muffled laughter.

Minho soldiers on. “We ask for forgiveness for burning these sacred garments, but we do so in the name of cleansing. May their spirit ascend to the great lingerie drawer in the sky, where no man shall ever nut on them again.”

Felix loses it first, doubling over with laughter. Hyunjin follows, leaning against Changbin for support as tears stream down his face.

“And,” Minho continues, ignoring the chaos, “we pray for Y/N’s future panties. May they be free of creeps and crust, and may they rest safely in their rightful place, her drawer. Amen.”

“Amen!” Jeongin shouts through his laughter, throwing his hands in the air like he’s at a revival.

Jisung shakes his head, muttering, “This fucking house,” but he’s grinning as he holds you close. You’re laughing so hard you’re shaking, and Jisung kisses the top of your head, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

Minho bows deeply, tossing the tongs and gloves into the fire. “Lady and gentlemen,” he says, straightening up, “the perv has been purged.”

“About fucking time,” Chan mutters, shaking his head as the flames crackle behind him.

“Now,” Minho says, clapping his hands, “who wants s’mores? The fire’s already going.”

The living room buzzes with its usual chaos. Felix is sprawled across the couch, scrolling through his phone and occasionally showing you something funny while Hyunjin lounges on the floor, doodling absentmindedly in his sketchbook. Jeongin is perched on the armrest of the couch, flipping through a fashion magazine, tossing in sarcastic comments every few pages. Meanwhile, Minho and Changbin are in the corner, tossing Zak’s ball back and forth as your dog bounds between them, tail wagging so hard it looks like it might fly off.

You’re curled up on the other end of the couch, dressed in a black leather miniskirt and a white blouse, layered with a black leather corset cinching your waist. Your black fluffy socks provide the only hint of comfort in the otherwise polished outfit, and Felix keeps glancing at them with a mix of amusement and approval.

“I like the socks,” Felix says, finally breaking the silence. “It’s like badass on top, cosy on the bottom. Duality.”

You snort, nudging his leg with your foot. “Fashion’s about balance, Lix. You wouldn’t get it.”

He gasps mockingly. “Excuse me? I’m the most fashionable person in this room.”

Hyunjin looks up from his sketchbook, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t you wear socks with sandals last week?”

“That was ironic,” Felix defends immediately, sitting up straighter. “I was making a statement.”

Jeongin smirks, flipping a page in his magazine. “The statement was you have no taste.”

Before Felix can argue, the door swings open, and Jisung enters, his arms full as he carries a huge cardboard box. His face is determined, his blue hair slightly messy from the wind outside. “Make way,” he announces dramatically, setting the box down in the centre of the room with a loud thud.

Everyone pauses, watching as he carefully opens the flaps and pulls out a laundry basket. But this isn’t just any laundry basket. It’s metal, reinforced, and clearly equipped with a padlock.

“What the fuck is that?” Minho asks, holding Zak’s ball mid-throw.

“This,” Jisung says, holding up the basket proudly, “is the future of laundry security. I do not care if the panty thief has been ousted; I will protect my girlfriend’s panties forever now. Look!” He lifts a small key on a chain around his neck. “Only I have the key, which I will wear at all times. Just in case Minho decides to play panty hats again.”

Minho, without missing a beat, chucks Zak’s ball directly at Jisung’s head. It bounces off harmlessly as Jisung glares at him. “Hey!”

“It was one time!” Minho exclaims, exasperated. “And you dared me to do it!”

Jisung points an accusing finger at him. “You may not have been the panty thief, but you were way too comfortable putting her panties on your head!”

“They were clean panties!” Minho shouts, throwing his hands in the air. “I did not touch her used panties. That was Pledge Perv!”

“I know,” Jisung says, crossing his arms. “But this is preventative. I study criminal psych. It starts with small fires, then bam! Arson. In your case, clean panties on your head for a dare, and then bam, you’re sniffing my girlfriend’s used panties.”

Everyone groans at the sheer absurdity of his logic, except Minho, who looks utterly betrayed. “Y/N,” Minho says, turning to you with wide eyes, “I swear I will never sniff your used panties.”

You blink at him, then burst into laughter. “Thank you for that confirmation, Minho. That was actually oddly comforting.”

Felix wheezes from the couch, holding his stomach. “This fucking house,” he mutters, wiping at his eyes.

Jisung steps forward, holding up the laundry basket like a prize. “And it gets better. This thing is multipurpose! Someone starts being annoying, and we can lock them in it. Like the chokey from Matilda!”

“Jesus Christ,” Hyunjin mutters, shaking his head as he goes back to his sketchbook.

Jeongin leans forward, inspecting the basket with a smirk. “I mean... it’s not a bad idea. Can we test it on Minho?”

“Fuck you,” Minho shoots back, glaring at him. “I’ve suffered enough in this house.”

“You brought that on yourself,” Changbin points out, tossing Zak’s ball back at Minho with a grin.

Jisung grins, placing the basket down with a flourish. “Mark my words, jagiya. Your panties are safe now. No one’s getting through this bad boy.”

Minho’s eyes narrow as he steps closer to the newly unveiled laundry basket. “We can lock annoying people in there, you say?”

Jisung, completely oblivious to the brewing chaos, nods proudly. “Exactly. Multifunctional, genius, and- Hey, what are you doing?”

Minho doesn’t answer. Instead, he exchanges a quick glance with you, and before Jisung can process what’s happening, Minho lunges at him, tackling him to the couch. You’re quick to follow, snatching the key from around Jisung’s neck as he flails dramatically.

“Traitor!” Jisung yells, looking up at you with mock betrayal. “Jagiya, how could you-”

“Oh, shut up,” you say, laughing as Minho pins him down. “You’re the one who said it was multifunctional.”

Jeongin and Changbin jump into action, grabbing Jisung’s arms and legs as Minho lifts him off the couch. Jisung is shouting the whole time, a mix of curses and sputtered protests. “Put me down, you bastards! This is abuse! Y/N!”

You ignore him, grinning as you open the laundry basket. “In you go, Ji.”

The guys shove him inside with surprising efficiency, slamming the lid down before he can escape. Jisung’s voice muffles immediately as he thrashes inside the basket. “This is not how this thing was supposed to be used!”

You sit on the lid, crossing your arms smugly as you press your weight down. Jisung stills almost instantly. “Jagiya, I swear, you’re making a huge mistake.”

“Am I?” you ask, raising an eyebrow, your voice dripping with amusement. “Because it feels like I’m making the perfect choice.”

Minho leans over, snapping the padlock into place with a flourish. “Alright,” he says, brushing off his hands. “That’s done. I’m starving. Let’s go grab some lunch.”

“Wait, what?” Jisung shouts from inside the basket, his tone shifting from incredulous to panicked. “No! You can’t just leave me in here! Jagiya, don’t let them do this!”

You hop off the basket, slipping into your shoes as Jisung’s muffled protests grow louder. “Sorry, Ji,” you say with a grin, grabbing your bag. “You’re in timeout now.”

“Timeout? This is false imprisonment!” he yells. “Felix, back me up here! Someone, please!”

Felix, ever the chaos enabler, grabs his jacket and waves cheerfully toward the basket. “Bye, Jisung! Don’t worry, we’ll bring you back a doggy bag.”

“Felix!” Jisung screeches, but Felix just snickers, nudging Hyunjin as they head toward the door.

Jeongin grabs the key, holding it up like a trophy. “Think we should keep this as a souvenir?” he asks with a mischievous grin.

Minho snatches it from him. “Nah, let’s leave it here. Adds to the suspense.” He drops it back on the coffee table with a clink, turning to you. “Ready, Y/N?”

“Let’s go,” you reply, slinging your bag over your shoulder as Jisung’s voice continues to echo from the basket.

“Don’t leave me here!” he shouts, his tone shifting to his most pitiful. “Jagiya, please! I’ll do all the laundry for a week! No, a month! Just let me out!”

Hyunjin chuckles, holding the door open as the group files out. “You’ll be fine, Ji. Enjoy your new home.”

“I hate all of you!” Jisung yells as the door clicks shut behind you.

The last thing you hear before you’re out of earshot is Jisung’s dramatic, muffled voice: “This is fucking betrayal! You’ll regret this! JAGIYA!” You laugh, shaking your head as you follow your friends toward lunch, already planning how to tease him about this later.

The house is quiet, the kind of peaceful lull that settles in when everyone’s off doing their own thing. Chan stumbles downstairs after an afternoon nap, his hair sticking up in every direction and his hoodie slightly askew. He rubs the sleep from his eyes as he pads toward the kitchen, yawning loudly.

But before he can make it there, faint singing drifts from the living room. It’s woeful and slightly off-key, the kind of exaggerated misery that can only mean one thing. Jisung.

“All by myseeeelf,” Jisung wails, his voice cracking as he drags out the note. “Don’t wanna be... all by myseeeelf anymoreee!”

Chan stops mid-step, his curiosity piqued. He follows the sound and steps into the living room, only to freeze at the sight in front of him.

There’s Jisung, sitting curled up inside the locked laundry basket in the middle of the room, his knees pulled up to his chest as he continues his impassioned rendition of the ballad. Zak runs around the room, occasionally bumping into the basket with his nose, clearly entertained by Jisung’s predicament.

Chan blinks once, then twice, before bursting into laughter. “What the fuck?”

Jisung stops singing immediately, his head snapping up to see Chan standing in the doorway. “Oh, great. You’re awake,” he says, slumping back against the basket’s walls. “The key’s on the table.”

Chan snorts, shaking his head as he steps toward the coffee table to grab the key. “What the fuck happened, man?”

Jisung’s voice is full of betrayal as he explains, “I bought this thing to protect Y/N’s panties, right? And then those bastards, all of them, locked me in it and then, get this, they all went out for food. And! And! Y/N fucking helped them, Chan. My own fucking girlfriend helped them!”

Chan is already laughing so hard he has to lean on the table for support, but Jisung isn’t done. “Seungmin came downstairs half an hour ago, stood right there, laughed in my face, and then he went back to bed! He left me in here! Like this!”

Chan’s laughter crescendos into a full-on howl as he struggles to unlock the padlock. His hands are shaking so much from laughing that it takes him two tries to fit the key in. “Holy shit, Ji,” he wheezes, doubling over. “This is the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. I might actually piss my pants.”

Jisung pouts, crossing his arms over his chest as Zak paws at the side of the basket, barking softly. “This isn’t funny, Chan! This is fucking trauma! I’ve been sitting here singing sad songs to myself for the last hour! I require intense therapy now!"

“Clearly,” Chan chokes out between laughs, finally managing to unlock the padlock and lift the lid. “Man, this is golden. You’ve outdone yourself this time.”

Jisung clambers out of the basket with as much dignity as he can muster, which isn’t much. He straightens his clothes, glaring at Chan, who’s still doubled over and gasping for air.

“You’re the worst,” Jisung mutters, brushing himself off. “And you’re all dead when they get back. Dead. Especially Y/N. My own girlfriend betrayed me.”

Chan shakes his head, still giggling as he collapses onto the couch. “Ji, I’m gonna be laughing about this for weeks.” He wipes at his eyes, his voice still shaking with mirth. “All by myself. Fucking hell, man. I can’t.”

Zak barks again, wagging his tail as he jumps up on Jisung, who sighs and scratches behind the dog’s ears. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” Jisung says to Zak, his voice resigned.

Chan lets out another burst of laughter, leaning back on the couch. “Jisung, I’m begging you, never change.”

Jisung glares at him but can’t hold back the small smirk that tugs at his lips. “I hate this house,” he mutters, but there’s no real heat behind his words.

The front door swings open, and you, Minho, Jeongin, Changbin, Felix, and Hyunjin pile back into the Alpha Phi house, laughing and chatting after a long lunch. The smell of fried food still lingers on your clothes, and you kick off your boots near the door, wiggling your toes in your mismatched socks. Minho grumbles as his sneakers get caught on the laces, nearly tripping himself, while Jeongin tosses his shoes haphazardly into the corner.

“Dude, how are you this bad at taking off shoes?” Hyunjin teases, neatly placing his own beside the wall.

“Shut the fuck up,” Minho mutters, finally yanking his sneaker off with a grunt. “At least I don’t look like I’m about to model for a sock commercial.”

Changbin stretches dramatically, his voice booming. “That lunch hit the spot. I could sleep for three hours now.”

“You mean your usual nap,” Jeongin quips, dodging a swat from Changbin as the group makes their way toward the living room.

But the moment you all step inside, the laughter dies. Chan is sitting on the couch, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, while Jisung is standing in front of the coffee table, glaring at the doorway like a man possessed.

“Oh fuck,” Minho mutters under his breath.

Jisung’s expression darkens further when he sees the six you. “Well, well, well,” he says, his tone low and dangerous. “Look who decided to show up.”

Before anyone can respond, Jisung takes a single step forward, and the group instantly scatters like cockroaches under a light. “Run!” Felix yells, grabbing your wrist as he bolts toward the stairs.

You barely have time to pull away before Minho lets out a loud, panicked shriek and scrambles toward the kitchen, with Jeongin and Changbin hot on his heels. Hyunjin stumbles over his own feet, laughing hysterically as he runs toward the back door, shouting, “Every man for himself!”

Felix drags you upstairs, both of you taking the steps two at a time until you reach the second floor. You glance over your shoulder, half-expecting Jisung to be right behind you, but the stairwell is empty.

“Do you think he’s chasing them?” you whisper, crouching down against the hallway wall to catch your breath.

Felix nods, his own breathing ragged as he leans back against the wall beside you. “Oh, 100 percent. Did you hear Minho scream? He’s got to be Jisung’s main target.”

You stifle a laugh, pressing a hand to your mouth as you hear faint shouting from downstairs. Minho’s voice rings out, high-pitched and panicked. “Don’t touch me, you psycho!”

Felix snorts, shaking his head. “Poor Minho. He’s definitely regretting his life choices right now.”

Another round of shouting echoes from the first floor, and you catch snippets of Changbin’s booming laugh and Jeongin’s frantic “He’s gaining on us!” You exchange a look with Felix, and both of you dissolve into quiet giggles, trying to muffle the sound with your sleeves.

“Think he’ll come up here?” Felix whispers, glancing nervously toward the staircase.

“Doubt it,” you reply, adjusting your position to peek around the corner. “I think he’s too focused on Minho.”

“Smart choice,” Felix says, grinning. “Minho’s the worst at running. He’s fucked.”

As if on cue, another shriek from Minho echoes through the house, followed by Jisung’s triumphant yell. “Got you, asshole!”

Felix leans closer, whispering urgently, “We need to move. If he catches Minho, we’re next. And I’m not about to be victim number two.”

You nod, already rising to your feet. The chaos downstairs seems to have quieted for a moment, which only makes you more anxious. “He’s probably planning something,” you whisper back, glancing nervously toward the staircase.

“Exactly,” Felix says, tugging at your sleeve. “Let’s go before he decides to head up here.”

The two of you dart down the hallway, your footsteps soft against the hardwood floors. Felix glances over his shoulder every few seconds, his paranoia palpable as you reach the other flight of stairs that leads to the opposite side of the house. “Quietly,” he mutters, raising a finger to his lips as he starts down the steps.

But as soon as you reach the bottom, your stomach drops. Standing there, looking far too pleased with himself, is Jisung. His blue hair is slightly dishevelled from the earlier chaos, and his grin is both smug and dangerous.

“Going somewhere, jagiya?” he asks, tilting his head.

You barely have time to yelp before he lunges forward, grabbing you by the waist and effortlessly tossing you over his shoulder. “Jisung!” you squeal, your hands scrambling for purchase as the world tilts upside down.

He holds you securely, one arm wrapped around your legs while his free hand presses down on the back of your skirt. “Relax, I’ve got you,” he says, his tone playful. “Can’t have you flashing everyone, can I?”

From your awkward upside-down position, you can see Felix staring wide-eyed from the top of the stairs. “You’re on your own!” he shouts, bolting in the opposite direction.

“Felix, you asshole!” you yell, laughing despite yourself as Jisung starts walking back toward the living room, his steps steady and confident.

You shift slightly, trying to wiggle free, but his grip tightens. “Don’t even try it, jagiya,” he warns, giving your thigh a light pat. “You’re not going anywhere.”

With a mischievous grin, you reach down and give his ass a firm squeeze. Jisung freezes for a split second before letting out an exaggerated groan. “Oh, no,” he says, shaking his head. “No ass for you. You’re in trouble, remember?”

“What kind of trouble?” you tease, grinning against his shoulder.

“The kind where you’re in air jail for the rest of the day,” he replies, his voice mock-serious. “I try to protect your panties, and what do I get? Locked in a fucking laundry basket like I’m the bad guy. No, jagiya, you’ve brought this on yourself.”

“Air jail?” you ask, laughing as he gives your thigh another pat.

“Air jail,” he confirms, starting to bounce you lightly on his shoulder. “And I’ve got muscles now, so I can do that shit. Naughty girlfriend air jail, all day long.”

You shriek with laughter as he jerks his shoulder, jostling you like you’re nothing more than a sack of flour. “Jisung, put me down!” you protest, though you’re laughing too hard to sound convincing.

“Nope,” he says, popping the “p” with a grin. “Not until you’ve learned your lesson. You locked me up, jagiya. Me! Your sweet, innocent boyfriend who just wanted to protect your underwear.”

“Innocent, my ass,” you mutter, giggling.

He smirks, adjusting his grip on you as he steps into the living room. “Speaking of your ass, keep your hands to yourself. That’s part of your punishment.”

“You’re impossible,” you say, shaking your head against his back.

“And you love me,” he replies confidently, plopping down onto the couch with you still slung over his shoulder. “Welcome to air jail. Population: you.”

Ten minutes pass, and the living room has mostly settled back into its usual chaos. Jisung is perched on the couch, still smugly holding you draped over his shoulder like a prize he refuses to relinquish. You’ve mostly given up struggling, half-laughing and half-groaning as he adjusts his position, jostling you slightly every now and then just to remind you who’s in charge of “air jail.”

Suddenly, Minho shuffles into the room, his trousers bunched around his ankles, one hand tugging at the back of his underwear. His face is red with equal parts rage and humiliation as he glares at Jisung. “You wedgied me so fucking hard, man! I can taste my underwear! My asshole might actually be bleeding!”

Jisung shrugs nonchalantly, which jostles you again. You yelp, slapping his back lightly. “Ji! Careful!”

“Sorry, jagiya,” he says, grinning before turning his attention back to Minho. “You started it, man. You were the first to lunge, which led to me being imprisoned in a laundry basket until the only decent soul in this house let me out.”

“That doesn’t mean you pull my underwear up so high you split my fucking balls!” Minho snaps, waddling over to the armchair. He places a cold bag of peas on the cushion before lowering himself gingerly onto it with a groan. “Jesus Christ. I might never walk the same again.”

Jisung smirks, leaning back on the couch. “That’s what you get.”

Minho points at you, still draped over Jisung’s shoulder. “You might wanna let your girlfriend up before her brain pops from all the blood rushing to her head.”

Jisung sighs dramatically, patting your back. “Alright, alright. You’ve served your time in air jail.”

Finally, he shifts, carefully helping you down from his shoulder. Your hair is slightly mussed, and you give him a playful glare as you straighten your skirt.

“You’re impossible,” you say, but the grin tugging at your lips betrays your words.

“And you love me,” Jisung replies, pulling you into his lap and wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you trapped. “But don’t get too comfortable. You’ve gotta earn your freedom.”

“Oh yeah?” you challenge, raising an eyebrow.

“Yup,” he says, his grin widening. “You’re helping me plan my revenge on Changbin, Hyunjin, Felix, and Jeongin. They all left me to rot, and now it’s their turn.”

You laugh, leaning back against his chest. “Done. What’s the plan?”

From the armchair, Minho groans. “If there’s another trap, I’m sitting this one out. My balls can’t handle it.”

You, Jisung, and Minho exchange a glance before bursting into laughter, the kind of uncontrollable, ridiculous laughter that only comes from living in a house as chaotic as this one. Jisung’s arms tighten around you, and you can’t help but think, despite the madness, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

General Taglist: @nightmarenyxx

Proofread by the lovely @eastjonowhere

[mads-hemmo]

It’s Nice to Have a Friend - Jschlatt

Part 7

Masterlist

Reader has been lonely their whole life. They have never been in a relationship. They don’t understand why no one will love them but their best friend, Schlatt has always been in love with them.

The first part of this part is fluff then the next part is just smut, so mdni. 18+ only. This is also the official last part, so thank you for the support on it. Also I know Reader has been gn up to this point but they are now afab for smut purposes.

You and Schlatt have now been dating for a little over three months. It has been pure bliss and everything has been going great. You still have kept your relationship only between the two of you. The most you have done is make out with some touching, but you felt more was going to happen soon.

Today is your birthday and Schlatt was doing whatever he could to spoil you. He surprised you with tickets to see Wicked on broadway. He requested that you both dress up so he could make the night extra special. Before the show, Schlatt takes you out to a fancy dinner at a steakhouse. He tells you it’s not as good as Boa, but it’s definitely up there.

As you sip from your wine glass, you look over at Schlatt who is smiling at you like an idiot. “What?” You ask him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing. You’re just so beautiful and I can’t believe you’re mine,” he tells you. “Are you excited for the show?”

You nod, excitedly. You had seen your fair share of Broadway shows living in New York, but watching one with Schlatt made you very happy. “Yes I am. Thank you for everything. You know you don’t have to splurge on me just because it’s my birthday.”

“Don’t worry about it, Toots. I like spoiling you. You deserve it. It’s your twenty-fifth birthday. It needs to be special.”

You roll your eyes, affectionately at him. After you both finish your meals, you make your way to the show. Once you find your seats, you realize that he bought you the best ones. “Jay,” you let out, surprised.

He just smiles at you. “Let’s sit,” he says, grabbing your hand in his.

The show starts and you watch in awe at the performers. You feel Schlatt’s eyes watching you, but you ignore it. His thumb rubs the back of your hand. During intermission, you finally look back over at Schlatt. He has that same dumb look on his face. “Isn’t it amazing? They are so talented. I’m so ready for the second act,” you tell him.

“Yeah I’m actually enjoying it. But the view beside me is much better to look at,” he says.

You slap his arm slightly. “Shut up and watch the show. You spent too much money to not actually watch it. You can look at me anytime.” You squint your eyes at him in a slight scowl.

He kisses your temple. “As long as you're happy, I’m happy.”

You roll your eyes as act 2 starts. You realize that Schlatt’s eyes are actually focused on the stage. You smile to yourself, happy that he seems to be enjoying himself.

After the show, you get in his car to head back to his apartment. Ever since you started dating, you have spent most nights at his. Yours mainly just acts as a storage and holds some of your clothes. You already have a space in his closet and the majority of your hair products and makeup are in his bathroom.

On the ride home, Schlatt gushes over the show. He suggests that you go see shows more often. Especially if it means seeing you happy. You’re honestly shocked about how much he enjoyed it.

When you finally arrive back at his apartment, you can feel the sexual tension starting to build. Once you walk inside, his lips immediately connect to yours. “As much as I like this dress, I think it would look better off,” Schlatt groans in your ear.

You think tonight is the night and you’re ready. This will be your first time, but you trust Schlatt. He pulls away from you. His brown eyes somehow look even darker. “Take me upstairs,” you command.

Schlatt picks up as if you weigh nothing. You squeal slightly when he picks you up. He carries you to his bedroom before placing you on the bed. His lips immediately press against yours. You can already feel his bulge growing as he rubs against you. He deepens the kiss by exploring your mouth with his tongue.

This is how most of your nights have been. You make out for what feels like hours. When Schlatt can’t take it anymore, he goes to take a shower to relieve himself. You pull away from him slightly. “I’m ready. I want you to fuck me tonight,” you tell him.

Schlatt groans. “Are you sure?” He asks.

“Yes I’m sure. I’m ready and I want you. Bad.”

He kisses you again. He reaches behind you to unzip your dress. It slowly falls down your body. Schlatt helps you fully remove it and throws it across the room. He takes in your body, enjoying the matching set you put on. “These are really nice. Too bad, they will be coming off soon,” Schlatt says, kissing your jaw down to your chest.

You help him take off his coat jacket then work on unbuttoning his shirt. He does it for you. Schlatt throws it all off including his tie. You rub your hand softly over the bulge you see forming in his pants. He lets out a soft moan. “Can I suck you off? You may need to help me through it though,” you tell him.

“Fuck, toots. You’re going to be the death of me. Kill me if I ever say no to that question.”

You laugh slightly, helping him out of his tight trousers. You can’t even see him fully, but you know he’s huge just from the outline in his boxer. You start panicking a little bit imagining it inside of you. Schlatt seems to sense your anxiety, so he kisses you. You smile against his lips.

As he kisses you, he slips off his boxers. You pull away and look at him in awe. He’s huge and you want him in your mouth immediately. You kiss the tip before taking it in your mouth. You start sucking lightly, making sure to cover your teeth. The room fills with Schlatt’s moans. You take more of his cock in your mouth. You start speeding up a bit. You enjoy hearing Schlatt’s moans turn into whimpers. You go down further on him until you start coughing a bit.

“Don’t hurt yourself, baby. Just take it slow. If you need to stop, you can,” he comforts you.

“I’m okay,” you tell him, taking him back in your mouth.

“Use your hands if you can’t fit it all. Spit on them or I can grab some lube to make it feel good,” he tells you.

You spit on both your hands before using them to rub his cock. You put your mouth back on him. You start speeding up again, getting the hang of it. Schlatt’s hands go to the back of your head making a ponytail out of your hair.

After a little while, he pulls you off of him. “I was about to come. If I come, I’ll be knocked out,” he tells you.

Schlatt helps you out of your bra. As soon as it’s off, his mouth attaches to one of your breasts. He takes his time with you. You feel yourself soaking your panties and you’re getting impatient. You want him inside you already. After he’s done with your breast, he kisses down your stomach to your panties. “Damn, Toots. You’re soaked already and I’ve barely touched you,” he teases.

“I know. Can you just fuck me already?” You plead.

“Be patient. This is your first time, so I’ll have to prep you first. I’ll fuck you when you’re ready, but don’t be a brat.”

He quickly rips your panties down your legs. He kisses your thighs, completely ignoring your wet core. “Jay,” you beg. You’re not sure how much more you can take.

“I’m only being nice since it’s your birthday,” he says, before finally delving in. He wastes no time sucking on your clit then licking long strips down your center.

The sounds that come out of your mouth are foreign to your ears. The pleasure is too much that you’re scared you may come in seconds. You feel Schlatt’s finger start to tease your hole. He finally inserts it softly while continuing to suck on your clit. You throw your head back as he goes a bit quicker. When he thinks you’re ready, he inserts another finger. He starts scissoring to open you up.

“Fuck you’re so tight. I don’t think I’m going to last when I get to finally be inside you,” Schlatt tells you as you continue to moan.

“Jay,” you groan when his mouth goes back to your clit. He continues to work you open. You start worrying you’re going to come soon, but he hasn’t even been inside you yet.

After what feels like hours, he pulls his fingers out. “I think you’re ready. I’m going to go slow. It is going to hurt at first, but I’ll try to be as soft as I can. There may be a mess, but we can clean it up. Are you ready?”

You nod at him. You’ve been thinking about this moment for a while now and it’s finally happening. As it’s your first time, you’re not sure what to expect but it’s Schlatt. You have immense trust for him.

He leans over to grab a condom from his nightstand. He opens the packets and delicately rolls the condom on. Schlatt lines himself up. You feel like you’re being ripped apart by his girth even though only the tip is in. You feel a tear slowly fall down your cheek. He kisses your forehead as he pushes in a bit more.

“Fuck,” you yell out, your eyes feeling up with tears.

“I know, baby. It will only hurt for a bit. Let me know when I can move and I will,” Schlatt tells you. He moves the hair out of your face and pecks your lips softly. His rough fingers wipe the stray tears from your eyes.

When you get used to the feeling inside you, you nod. “You can move,” you tell him.

“I’ll go slow. Tell me if you want me to stop.”

Schlatt slowly pulls out of you then pushes out again. He keeps doing that before he picks up his pace. It starts to feel pleasurable again. You clench around him, wanting to keep him close.

“Fuck toots. If you keep doing that, I don’t know how long I’ll last,” he groans. He presses his lips to your as he goes faster. Schlatt’s hands rest on your hips to give him better leverage. You hold on his forearms and start matching his pace. You’re not sure why it took so long to do this.

“Jay. Fuck,” you moan against his lips. There’s so much you want to say, but you’re at a loss for words.

He groans against your lips. Your noises meld together. You can tell he’s just as close as you are. “I’m coming,” you yell out.

Schlatt continues to fuck you through it until he reaches his climax. “(Y/N),” he moans out. Once he finishes, he slowly pulls out of you. He takes off the full condom and disposes of it. He goes into the bathroom to grab a towel. You look down to see the mess you made. You’re scared when you see blood, but you were sure you weren’t supposed to start for another week.

Schlatt comes in with the towel. “I’m sorry,” you start, looking back at the mess.

“It’s okay. That’s why I brought the towel to clean you up,” he tells you. He comes over and starts to wipe you up.

“I didn’t realize I had started. If I knew, we could have waited.”

Schlatt starts to chuckle slightly. “That’s not your period. Have you ever heard the term, ‘popping the cherry?’”

“Ohh,” you say, realizing what happened. “That’s gross. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I knew it was going to happen. It’s just part of it.” Schlatt walks over to you and kisses your temple. “How about you hop in the shower and I’ll change the sheets?”

You nod, getting up. You struggle a bit, so Schlatt helps you on your feet. “I love you,” you tell him, pecking his lips.

“I love you too. Go hop in the shower. You’ll feel a lot better. Afterwards, we can cuddle and I’ll play with your hair.”

“How about after you change the sheets, you join me? It is my birthday after all,” you wink at him, making your way to the shower.

Your twenty-fifth has been your best birthday yet and it’s all thanks to Schlatt. You’re insanely glad he confessed his feelings to you months ago. Being Schlatt’s best friend was amazing, but being Schlatt’s partner was somehow entirely better. You look forward to more moments together. But for now, all you can think about is him joining you in the shower for round two.

A/N: omg my baby is finally finished!! Thank you for the constant support!! I have many things planned so stayed tuned. I also got inspired with it being reader’s birthday as my 25th birthday is coming up soon! Lots of love!!

[ellenchain]

I LOVE NECROMANCER JAYCE!!!

The idea of the hexcore not doing it, and making Jayce do the legwork and corrupt himself. Still manipulating them both and in the end actually cementing Jayce's loyalty and isolation from those around him. Enabling him the skills to bring back Viktor, and tying them closer together. Viktor waking up to a Jayce who's burned everything to bring him back

OHYES I love unhinged Jayce, I wish they would have shown more of his mad scientist side because I think in the end it would be Jayce who, as you say, would burn the world down to get Viktor back.

I mean, we saw in canon that Jayce was still torn up inside even when he knew that an entire timeline, and therefore people's lives, were at stake. He was still on the verge of joining Viktor. That boy has no brain cells left when it's about his partner (I mean that in the most affectionate way)

I'm a sucker for villain jayce tbh. And of course villain couple jayvik because they both give off that certain vibe

I can imagine that not only Viktor but also our Jayce would act morally grey in order to create supposedly ‘better’ circumstances

[the-raven-and-the-tower]

Viago: You're the client?

Fun fact: Viago knows Lace Harding from a prior quest, so I tried to bring her to this meeting and was bummed when she wasn't included in the cutscene.

Teia: This is Rook. Did you want a drink? I promise not to let Viago near it.

Viago: (Sighs)

I fucking love the way exasperated way he handles her affectionate bullying. It's adorable and I love their dynamic. I especially like that despite Viago outranking Teia (click here for a cute bit of banter between them about that), he doesn't bother with rank. If anything, Teia pushes him around.

Viago: Viago de Riva. Fifth Talon.

Quick, efficient, brief, and without boasting.

Viago: And this is Caterina Dellamorte. First Talon of the Crows.

I love how his tone shifts to one of profound respect / a call for respect as he indicates Caterina. We didn't hear any of that when he referenced himself, which I think is cool.

Rook: An honor. And you are?

Illario: Illario Dellamorte. Her grandson. What brings you here?

Also brief, blunt and to the point. Why is he here? He's her grandchild. Not a Talon, not a named assassin. Caterina's grandson, a role he sees himself as having been reduced to and is planning to break free from forever.

Rook: Right. My target is a pair of elven gods—or that's what they call themselves. They're ancient blighted mages.

Rook: My detective says you have a man who brought blood mages and Venatori to their knees.

Caterina: Lucanis.

Caterina: My grandson. They called him "the Demon of Vyrantium." He was the one who did those jobs.

Rook: Sounds like there's more to it.

Viago: Lucanis Dellamorte is dead. He was killed a year ago, now

Caterina (tapping her fingers pensively): What I say doesn't leave this room.

Caterina: The body our people brought back was not my grandson. It was dressed in his clothing, but it had been altered with blood magic to have his face.

Real quick, let's look at a slowed gif of Illario's face.

The facial expressions are pretty limited in most cutscenes, but we still can catch that quick flicker of surprise and then fearful concern on Illario's face as he checks first Viago and Teia's reactions, then Rook's. If Lucanis is alive, that means Zara didn't uphold her end of the bargain to kill Lucanis and instead kept him for her own purposes. This is the face of a man realizing his plan is unraveling.

Illario: My cousin is still alive? And you didn't think to tell me?

Quick recovery, responding to the shock with anger to cover his dismay. "You didn't think to tell me" is an interesting choice of words.

Viago: His ship was attacked. We knew someone sold him out... so you kept your suspicions to yourself.

I pulled this from the wiki for Viago, under the Eight Little Talons quest in Tevinter Nights; "Given his familiarity with poisons, suspicions fall on Viago. He declines Teia's offer to lie for him to give him an alibi, and Caterina orders for him and Dante to be locked in their room[s] as suspects." The way Viago willing accepts that suspicion points his direction then... and sees the reason in Caterina withholding information now- it's great. Unlike Illario, there is no protest, no immediate offense. Not only because he has done no wrong, but because he understands. He knows what they are and the nature of their lives. He trusts Caterina. That's enough for him. I love it. And him.

Rook: But you've brought it up now. Why?

Caterina: I've had eyes on the Venatori ever since they took my grandson from me.

Despite all her failings, I do appreciate that she refers to him as her grandson and not the Demon (of Vyrantium) or 'her best assassin' or even just his name, Lucanis. She wants her grandson back.

Caterina: They were hunting your Dread Wolf. And what you did to his ritual threw them into disarray.

"Your Dread Wolf" and "what you did" - I like the direct acknowledgement of not only how Rook's actions gave her this important knowledge, but also the direct nod to Rook's quest and the overall reason he's here, asking the Crows for help with his cause. Their goals are bound together, as are their paths forward.

Caterina: They made mistakes. And now I have a location. The Ossuary. Where the Demon of Vyrantium is kept.

Now she calls him the Demon of Vyrantium - that's who Rook's looking for. She wants her grandson back, but Rook needs the Mage Killer.

Caterina: Find this Ossuary. Free Lucanis. You'll have your god-killer. And I'll have my grandson.

I fucking love "you'll have your god-killer", the faith she has in his abilities. Granted, they're abilities she systematically beat-and-starved into an orphaned seven-year-old boy and I do not love her for that, but I do like knowing that Illario probably grit his teeth pretty hard when he heard it. I gobble the angst up like cookies.

[antimonyandthyme]

1k; teto/carlos

They don’t fight.

Well. They do, but they fight about things like, who ate the last tangerine, and who gets to drive today, and who left the towel on the floor, snapping and sore at each other for five minutes at most, and then going back to talking like nothing ever happened. So it’s a shock to the system when it’s this bad.

Unlucky race number fifty-something, he’s lost count. Outside and in his head it’s lashing rain. Teto says, “Don’t go out,” and Carlos says, “I’m going to go out.”

He goes out on his bike, and predictably crashes so badly he has to lay on the wet, cold ground for ten minutes to catch his breath and lament everything and everyone in a way he hasn’t done since he was a kid pushed off a track. Funny how he can keep his eyes wide open, staring up at the breaking sky. Then, because there’s nothing else to do, he picks himself up and limps back on shaky legs, an old, beaten dog taken out by something far larger and meaner than he is.

Teto gets one good look at his skinned knees, skinned shins, skinned palms, and starts yelling, purple-red in the face like all of Carlos’s wounds are a personal affront to him.

“Be nicer to me I’m bleeding,” Carlos grits out, when all he means is, Please don’t be angry at me.

They stomp off into separate rooms and it takes Carlos three tries to admit that bandaging his own palms when both palms are scraped is a task too colossal to surmount.

“He worries about you,” Gigi says.

Carlos must look too much like a kicked puppy now for Gigi to step in and help, when it was abundantly clear Gigi had been on Teto’s side since the start of this whole debacle. Heaviness set in his brow when Carlos had insisted on going out, as if a bike ride in a storm could fix anything worth fixing. Carlos worries them all, with his impulses and his tantrums and his body, too soft by half.  

“He’s bad at it,” Carlos says.

“He’s trying,” Gigi says tartly, pulling the bandage tight and making Carlos wince.

Unsurprising that Teto’s loyalty inspires loyalty in return. A shining knight in splendid armour, with the way he rides out so often to Carlos’s defense. Body always half-turned toward the rest of the world, angled to catch a stray bullet meant for Carlos. Flesh is flesh, and anything sharp passes through Teto to carve Carlos up anyway. That doesn’t stop Teto from trying.

“Maybe I don’t want him to be good at it,” Carlos says. “The worrying.”

Gigi gives him a look, like he’s a child. “Then go tell him that.”

He hates being the first one to apologize, because it’s something that’s been stamped out of him for a long time now. Carlos shifts from one foot to another outside of Teto’s room. What he hates worse is the idea that Teto will never speak to him again, even though he knows down to the marrow of his bones he’s being dramatic, that their return policies when it comes to each other have long elapsed.

When he knocks, Teto answers so violent and fast Carlos gets all warm thinking about it, Teto waiting behind that door for Carlos to come.

“All I know how to do is make trouble.”

“All I know how to do is bark,” Teto says. Carlos doesn’t remember a time in which they haven’t been able to meet each other in the eyes, and it’s a chest melting relief, knowing that hasn’t changed.  

“I don’t need anything else,” Carlos says.

“Good, because otherwise you’re shit out of luck.”

Teto reels Carlos in and kisses him, so familiar yet all-encompassing that Carlos begins to crumple. The steady hand on the back of Carlos’s neck holds him up, some supernatural force more powerful than gravity, giving him just enough strength to make it to the bed.

He hits the covers skinned knees first, and makes certain to emit the most pathetic moan of pain.

“Idiot,” Teto says affectionately, reaching down to arrange Carlos just how he likes him, on his back, loose and easy. Carlos makes grabby hands at him.

So that’s not entirely true. There was a time they couldn’t meet each other in the eye, when they were both more stupid and reckless and hungry with each other than they can bear to be now. The sex wasn’t good, and when you’re that age, all sex is supposed to be good. It didn’t make sense. But what actually frightened Carlos was how Teto looked down, looked past him, and Carlos couldn’t figure out what to do with himself when the endless horizon suddenly became a blackhole.

Teto’s mouth is on him, and Carlos is content to lie there and be kissed. It’s all they do nowadays, having gone past rough and too careful to reach this comfortable middle ground. Carlos knows better than to think in forevers, after everything that’s happened, but it’s possible he would like to kiss Teto for the rest of his life. And let himself be kissed by Teto for the rest of his life.

“Gigi bandage you up?”

Carlos nods. “Couldn’t do it myself.”

Teto hums, smug and satisfied. Carlos lets him have this one, leaving the scoreboard between them to continue collecting dust. He tilts his head, an invitation Teto doesn’t need, and Teto licks back into his mouth, hand tangling in Carlos’s hair. Messing it up to match the rest of him, skinned knees and all.

Bastard, Carlos thinks fondly, and tangles his own in Teto’s in return.

It’s hard to describe the taste of Teto, the unique, constant taste of Teto. If Carlos doesn’t know any better, he’d say it tastes of himself.

[buubonita]

What do you think the bad sanses love languages are? Like physical touch, gift giving, etc

Well this is a hard one to define. Mainly because it will be an answer based on what I understand of the characters and not so much if it is canon appropriate or not.

But canon doesn't matter.

BSP displays of affection, do you mean between them or towards each other? I still can't figure out how they work together. So I'll talk in general.

I think Killer has no idea what it is to give affection. And if he does, his ideas must be distorted by his own experiences. The closest thing to a display of affection he could have is to warn others from the knowledge he has about his environment and the people around him if that can avoid an unpleasant moment (I go back to that post where I said he would advise Dust and Horror about Nightmare and when or how to handle him)

I don't see either of them being physically affectionate. Killer touches others as a method of keeping himself grounded rather than with a good intention. I'd say it depends on the state of his soul but I'm not sure either (state 3 and 4 seem to be prone to extreme violence and 1 is the full awareness of guilt eating away at the poor guy)

Killer doesn't have the best references when it comes to giving affection either. If we think of a setup where Murder and Horror are there as "toys" that Nightmare gave to Killer, I can see him translating Nightmare's behaviors to the two of them.

Though who knows, maybe he can learn a thing or two from the right person.

Murder and Horror seem to be the most willing to do something terrible in the name of those they love the most.

Horror doesn't seem like the gushing type at all, Sans didn't usually be either but he showed his affection for his brother in small gestures (reading to him before bed, helping him make costumes for his party, peeling an apple for him) so I think he would follow that same pattern of doing small things, niceties to take care of who he cares about. Maybe he knows Dust has a favorite color and gives him a gift of that color, or maybe he lets Killer name his weapons and addresses them that way.

Small nonsense but it makes it known that he is there.

What I do see as a form of affection, and partly because his memory fails, is that Horror gives nicknames to the people he hangs out with. The more nicknames, the more dear they are to him.

I also don't see him touching anyone so openly. Maybe on rare occasions and they are simple touches like punches or pats.

However, he is not above hurting or simply ignoring their personal desires and convictions. He fed his brother human flesh despite Papyrus telling him he didn't want to, he lied to the entire town about a new policy because he didn't want to take responsibility for things getting screwed up because of him, and he condemned his friends (although he is not the only one to blame) to a screwed up life.

Nightmare.

All of Nightmare's "displays of affection" lead to violence. Nightmare can't feel healthy affection for anyone in his corrupted state. I think even if he wanted to love someone, he'd end up hurting them.

I've said this before, but Nightmare would definitely compliment anyone in the group while they're dying because he finds their pain "too irresistible."

Becoming the object of Nightmare's affection only brings more pain unfortunately.

In a healthy version it's even hard to determine, because the best mercy Nightmare could give the MTT is to let them go. While some like to explore the idea of ​​Nightmare striving to improve, I personally like that but it also depends on how heinous Nightmare's actions have been and trying to determine if it makes sense for the rest of the MTT to trust his promise of wanting to change for the better.

If he did change for the better, their relationship wouldn't stop being complicated. There are no perfect relationships, there will always be instances of tension between parties even in the best of times and it's a matter of everyone involved doing their part to make it work. Relationships are not one-sided and one person cannot and does not have to bear all the responsibility.

It would be nice to see, if Nightmare were to redeem himself, teach others to better manage their "negative" emotions in less destructive and healthier ways. And above all learn to respect everyone's personal boundaries.

Nightmare would be fine with physical contact if he was the one to initiate it, I think. He would have to trust someone a lot to let them touch him and it wouldn't last long.

And lastly there's Dust.

I really like the idea that Dust writes. He doesn't know how to voice his feelings very well so he's better at writing them down. Maybe little notes left in the space of the people he cares about, even if they're just loose sentences, it doesn't take a lot of words to express great things when it comes to feelings.

And sometimes saying I love you feels like an impossible feat or something sacred that not many feel ready for.

Dust and physical contact don't get along very well either, but I like to think that sometimes he would initiate contact, leaning on his companions to make himself noticed and know that he is there.

I hope this satisfies you, anon! Thank you for your ask, i have fun braining all this.

[k4txlulzz]

people mischaracterizing aven to be crude, pushy, perverted, manipulative in a purposefully mean way never fails to make me VISCERALLY angry because yall know damn well that wifie is the most demure, elegant and gentle person in reality AND he is good with kids PLUS he literally is put up against a fucked up hologram of himself(that actually kinda resembles some fanon versions of him) and proceeds to openly express his dislike towards it . HE DESPERATELY CLINGS TO HIS HUMANITY AND SAYS THAT HE HASNT CHANGED😭LOOK AT THE WAY HE TREATS KID KAKAVASHA LIKE ??? GENTLY SMILING WARMLY AND SHIT ?? THE WAY HE ACTUALLY WANTS TO BE GENUINE FRIENDS WITH PPL AFTER THE QUEST ?? HOW HE LOOKS OUT FOR TOPAZ AND JOKES WITH RATIO ???

have some folks even seen or read the cutscenes man . like dont claim to like aventurine and then turn around and proceed to misinterpret him in the most insulting ways like i assure you that man is not nearly as GENUINELY and REALLY fucked up as you think . he has so many like . normal chill moments that show his human side and those just get brushed off ; I AM NOT BABYING HIM OR SANITIZING HIM AT ALL !! he is still morally gray and i love that, just wish that people saw ALL of him and the sweet, genuine aspects too cuz they are very obviously there

again this genuinely makes me upset because i think aven is an admirable person despite his obvious flaws and his heartwarming caring, affectionate, playful or generally human traits like pettiness are ignored ALL THIS TO SAY HE DESERVES BETTER😞 i looove him so much he is so comforting

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Such A Menace

Pairing: Ice Brady x Reader

Fandom: UConn Women's Basketball

Rating: Mature

Warnings: wlw smut, !glittery blue strap Ice, !top Ice, !bottom reader, Ice being a "bully", sensuality, and intimacy.

Summary: she may be a "bully" but she's yours and she loves to prove it

Tag: @elalfywhore

I heard her before I saw her. Ice had this habit of making her presence known in the loudest and most chaotic way possible—whether it was her laugh echoing down the halls or her sneakers scuffing purposefully against the gym floor.

And today was no different.

“You call that an outfit, babe?” Ice’s voice carried through the practice gym as I sat on the bleachers, scrolling on my phone. I looked up to see her sauntering over, her hands tucked casually into the pockets of her UConn warm-ups, a smug grin plastered across her face.

I rolled my eyes, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. “Don’t start with me, Ice. I look good, and you know it.”

“Oh, you think you look good?” she teased, coming to a stop right in front of me. Her tall frame loomed over mine, and I had to tilt my head to meet her eyes. “I think you forgot to match your socks. That’s tragic, babe.”

I crossed my arms, glaring up at her. “And I think you forgot that I’m not one of your teammates you can mess with.”

Her grin widened, and she leaned down until her face was inches from mine. “Oh, but you’re my favorite person to mess with,” she said, her voice dropping to a low, teasing tone.

Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I looked away. “Whatever,” I muttered.

Ice chuckled, clearly enjoying how flustered I was. “Aww, you’re blushing. That’s cute.”

“Go away, Brady,” I said, trying to sound annoyed, but my voice wavered, betraying me.

“Make me.”

Before I could respond, she plopped down on the bleacher next to me, casually throwing an arm around my shoulders. I stiffened as she pulled me closer, her fingers toying with the hem of my shirt.

“You’re such a menace,” I grumbled, trying to squirm away, but she held me firmly in place.

“Yeah, but you love it,” she shot back, pressing a quick kiss to the side of my head.

I rolled my eyes again, but I couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at my lips.

Later that evening, we were back in her dorm. Ice had insisted I come over, claiming she wanted to “study,” but it was clear from the way she was sprawled across her bed, flipping through her phone, that studying was the last thing on her mind.

“Are you actually going to do any work, or am I just here to entertain you?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

She looked up, smirking. “You’re always here to entertain me, babe.”

“Seriously, Ice—”

“Seriously,” she mimicked, her tone dripping with playful sarcasm.

I threw a pillow at her, and she caught it effortlessly, laughing. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re adorable when you’re mad,” she said, tossing the pillow aside and sitting up. Her eyes glinted with mischief as she patted the spot on the bed next to her. “C’mere.”

I hesitated, knowing that look all too well. It was the look she gave me right before she decided to push all my buttons.

“I don’t trust you,” I said, narrowing my eyes.

She laughed, leaning back on her elbows. “What, you think I’m gonna bite? C’mon, babe, I’m not that mean.”

I scoffed. “You literally told me my outfit was tragic earlier.”

“It was tragic,” she said matter-of-factly. “But I still think you’re the hottest person in the room, so what does that tell you?”

I rolled my eyes, but my cheeks burned at the compliment.

It wasn’t long before Ice’s teasing turned into something softer. She had a way of switching gears when I least expected it, going from relentless teasing to being the most affectionate person on the planet.

As I sat on her bed, her hand found mine, her fingers tracing slow, lazy patterns on my skin. “You know I only mess with you because I like seeing you all flustered, right?” she said, her voice softer now.

“I know,” I admitted, leaning into her touch. “But you’re still a bully.”

She laughed, pulling me into her lap. “A bully who’s absolutely obsessed with you,” she said, pressing her lips to mine.

“Just enjoy it, babe,” she cooed, her voice silky smooth. “Let me take care of you.”

With a skilled flick of her fingers, hand quickly pushing my blue thong out the way, she found my sweet spot, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through me. I squirmed under her touch, the sensations overwhelming. With in a few minutes I was withering from her touch“Please… I need more,” I begged, my voice laced with desperation.

“More, huh?” she teased, her eyes sparkling with delight. “I think I can manage that.”

As her fingers worked their magic, she leaned in closer, her mouth capturing mine in a heated kiss, her tongue dancing with mine. It was a heady mix of passion and control, the perfect combination that sent me spiraling into bliss.

Finally, she withdrew her hand, her eyes dark with desire. “I think you’re ready for me now,” she said, her voice low and sultry.

I nod letting her pull my shorts down, quick motion, breathless with anticipation as she flipped me over, positioning herself behind me, her hands gripping my hips. The moment the glittery blue strap pressed against me, a shiver of excitement raced through my body. “Tell me if it’s too much,” she murmured, her voice a velvety whisper.

With a gentle thrust, she entered me, the sensation sending waves of pleasure crashing over my body. I gasped, feeling both filled and cherished as she held me close. “You’re doing so good, f'me” Ice praised, her voice a soothing balm against the intensity of the moment.

As she began to move, the rhythm between us both built, a tantalizing dance of gentle and rough. The contrast was intoxicating, each thrust igniting a fire deep within me, pushing me closer to the edge. Ice’s hands gripped my waist, guiding me as she took me higher and higher, our bodies moving in perfect harmony. Skin slapping louding, my warm creamy juices falling to the base of the stap and onto the Satan sheets.

“Just let go,” she urged, her voice a sultry whisper that sent shivers down my spine. With each thrust, I felt the tension building, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter within me.

“Ice… I’m so close,” I gasped, my body trembling with need.

“Come for me,” she commanded, her voice dripping with desire. “I want to feel you fall apart, on this dick baby.”

With a final thrust, the world around me shattered into a million pieces, pleasure crashing over me-us like a tidal wave as I surrendered to the bliss. Ice’s name fell from my lips like a prayer, each syllable a testament to the connection we shared.

As the waves of ecstasy subsided, Ice pulled out slowly leaving me aching for more. She pulled me close, her breath warm against my skin. “You were amazing,” she murmured, pressing a soft kiss to my temple.

I smiled, feeling a warmth settle within me, the afterglow of our shared intimacy. In that moment, I knew that with Ice, every encounter was a beautiful blend of love and desire, a dance that would always leave me wanting more.

When she finally pulled away, she rested her forehead against mine, her eyes searching mine. “You know I love you, right?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded, a soft smile spreading across my face. “I love you too, even if you are a pain in the ass.”

She grinned, her hands sliding down to squeeze my waist. “And don’t you forget it.”

---

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-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[khys-treasure-box]

AN: Just got a friend of mine into Trigun, so it's been on my mind lately. By extension, my favorite functionally immortal alien dork is on the brain again! <3

CW: Fluff with a bit of angst mixed in. This is Vash after all, we can't go without just a tad bit of sadness, now can we? Similar to another post of mine, this isn't explicitly X Reader, but could totally be read as if it is! This is written more so with Stampede in mind, but I happen to believe this would go for any version of Vash.

Vash, as we all know, wears his heart on his sleeve; he's not really that good at hiding how he feels.

That being said, I think that very much extends to when he has a partner. Even if he tried, he just can't pretend that he's not positively enamored; it always shows. The pure adoration in his eyes when he looks at them, that dorky, almost boyish smile on his face whenever they're around, the way he practically follows them around like a puppy on an invisible leash... He's head over heels, and he, nor anyone else, can deny that. Of all the things he feels, the all-encompassing love he has for his beloved is absolutely not something he'd be tempted to brush off or explain away.

However, being so open about how deeply he loves them does simultaneously make him a bit fearful. He's Vash The Stampede, a man with a bounty worth an ungodly amount of double dollars on his head; a man with all sorts of dangerous folks following in his wake, just waiting for their chance to strike. By all accounts, anyone in Vash's company for extended periods of time would most certainly be in danger, and his partner would absolutely be no exception. In fact, it'd likely be worse for them. They'd likely be targeted to get to him. They could be harassed, they could be kidnapped, they could be killed. All for being by his side. It absolutely terrifies him.

If he's honest, his mind has drifted onto the thought of ending the relationship purely in hopes of ensuring their safety more than once or twice. Of course, he's never followed through on it because as soon as the thought has finished running through his head, he's already thinking about how upset his poor lover would be. He just doesn't have it in him to put them through that. Besides, it took him ages just to muster up the courage to allow himself to be with them. He can't let his worries, even as unfortunately rooted in reality as they were, ruin the relationship he'd just barely given himself the privilege to have.

In the end, all that worrying ends up circling right back into just how affectionate he is. Vash knows that every bit of time he has with them is precious, so he very much intends to make the absolute most of it! Any excuse he can get to hold his beloved, let them kiss him stupid (because let's be real here, he is absolutely the one to get kissed stupid in any relationship he's in), or really anything, so long as it's with them, is one he'll take unquestioningly. All of that is more valuable to him than he can even put into words.

Of course, if that means he has to take a bullet, or maybe a few, to protect them from some gang of knuckleheads after his bounty every once in a while, then he'll do it gladly. Besides, he's got his lovely partner to kiss him better when it's all over, so how could he possibly complain?

[seulszn]

#RedFlags

Warnings: cussing

Tags: @grosspube @vienwood @valalice @halle5s @soniiyi @baylegend6. And to the people I couldn't tag I'm sorry.

The cozy, inviting scent of vanilla candles welcomes you as you step into Lena and Julie’s shared house. Their place radiates a sense of comfort, a safe haven you didn’t realize you needed after the chaotic events of the day. You’re grateful to have friends with their own space, a reprieve from being cooped up at your parents’ house day in and day out.

You settle onto the couch, grabbing the remote to turn on the TV. Julie is already sprawled across most of the cushions, her green hair barely visible under a fuzzy purple blanket she’s cocooned herself in. Her legs stretch out, leaving you with just enough room to sit.

Lena disappears into the kitchen, rummaging for snacks, while you glance over at Julie. “Thanks for letting me crash here,” you say, your voice soft but sincere.

“Duh,” Julie replies without missing a beat, chucking a pillow at you with just enough force to make you flinch. “This is kind of your home too, you know. I mean, you helped us find this place.”

You glance at her, half-smiling. "I guess I did, huh?" You sink deeper into the couch, adjusting your position to settle in for what will hopefully be a relaxing night.

Lena returns with a bowl of chips, a plate of cookies, and a bottle of soda, setting everything down in front of you both. "I swear," she says with a grin, flopping into the armchair beside you, "this place wouldn't be the same without you." There's a sincerity in her voice that makes the whole room feel warmer, like the simple act of being together was enough to make everything right.

Julie, ever the affectionate one, pulls Lena into her arms, her green hair falling over her face as she smiles at her girlfriend. They share a moment, their eyes locking in a way that only the two of them can understand. It's a look full of comfort and love, and for a moment, you're reminded of how much they mean to each other.

Lena turns to you, popping open her soda with a flick of her wrist. "So, Julie texts me saying you bumped into Vi during gym class. What’s this about?" she asks, her eyes narrowing slightly with curiosity.

You glance at Julie, who grins at you like she knows something you don’t. She leans back, crossing her arms, clearly enjoying the moment.

"I leave to grab my water bottle, come back, and Vi’s over there cornering Y/N like a damn police officer," Julie says with a teasing smirk, her tone a mix of concern and amusement.

You can feel your cheeks heat up as both Lena and Julie turn their attention to you. The weight of their gazes is almost too much, and you awkwardly shift in your seat, trying to gather your thoughts.

"Cornering, huh?" Lena raises an eyebrow, her lips curling into a playful but knowing smile. "Sounds intense."

"Yeah," you say, trying to brush it off. "She just started talking to me. It wasn’t... anything crazy." But the truth is, you felt cornered. Vi’s presence had been suffocating, and you still couldn’t shake the way her eyes had roamed over you.

Julie snorts. "I’m not buying that for a second. Vi doesn’t just ‘talk.’ She makes her intentions pretty damn clear."You glance at Julie, giving her a look that says, really? but she just shrugs, her smirk never fading. "What do you mean by intentions?" Her voice drops, more serious now. "Vi’s not someone you want to mess with, Y/N."

"I know," you mumble, shifting in your seat again, your nerves growing. "It’s just... she was kind of in my space, you know?"

Lena groans, leaning onto Julie with a dramatic sigh. She mumbles something under her breath before speaking louder. "Y/N, why do you have to be the trouble magnet?"

You wince at her words, not meaning to cause any chaos, but it feels like that's all you ever end up attracting lately. Julie snickers beside you, giving Lena an amused look.

"I swear, it’s like the universe just loves throwing these people at you," Julie teases, poking you lightly in the side. "I mean, Caitlyn and Vi? Really?"

Lena rolls her eyes, sitting up straighter. "You need to start wearing some kind of repellent," she jokes, though her tone is tinged with concern. "Something that screams ‘stay away’ to people like them."

You laugh nervously, though it’s half-hearted. "If only it were that easy."

Julie raises an eyebrow, leaning forward like she’s piecing together a puzzle. "But wait... Caitlyn talked to you in biochem, and now Vi’s cornering you in the gym? That’s not a coincidence, Y/N. They’re up to something."

The implication makes your stomach twist. You try to wave it off, though you’re not even convincing yourself. "It’s probably nothing. Maybe they’re just..." You trail off, not really knowing how to finish that sentence.

"Obsessed," Lena interjects flatly, crossing her arms. "They’re obsessed. Caitlyn and Vi don’t go after anyone without a reason. They’ve got their sights set on you, Y/N, and it’s not gonna stop until they get whatever they want."

You glance at Lena, silently pleading for her to say it’s a joke, to tell you that you’re overthinking everything. Instead, she leans forward, her expression firm and unwavering. Julie nods beside her, her usual playfulness replaced with an unusual seriousness.

"She’s not wrong," Julie says, her tone low and steady. "Caitlyn and Vi don’t just play around. When they decide they want someone, they don’t back off. Trust me, I’ve seen it happen before."

You lean back, the weight of their words sinking in like a heavy blanket. "But... I haven’t done anything. I barely know them," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lena tilts her head, her expression almost pitying but still sharp. "You think that matters?" she says, her voice laced with blunt honesty. "You’re a girl they haven’t fucked yet that’s enough to get them intrigued by you.” Her words hit like a punch to the gut, leaving you speechless. Julie flinches, giving Lena a pointed look. "Geez, Lena, maybe soften the blow a little?"

"I’m just being honest " Lena responds, crossing her arms. "They’ve got this... thing. It’s a game to them chasing someone who doesn’t fall at their feet right away. And you? You’re like a neon sign flashing challenge"

You rub your temples, overwhelmed. "That’s ridiculous," you mumble. "I’ve literally done nothing to encourage this.” Julie sighs, her tone softer now. "You don’t have to, Y/N. They see what they want, and they go after it. And the fact that you’re quiet and reserved? That’s probably making them even more interested. You’re different."

you groan, the sound sharp and full of frustration, cutting through the tense atmosphere in the room. "Can you stop using that shitty-ass word?" you snap, your voice louder than you intended. You hate it. That word. Different. It’s been thrown at you so much lately it’s starting to feel like a curse. "I don’t think I’m different. I’m just me. I didn’t ask for any of this!”

Lena arches an eyebrow at your reaction but stays silent, her sharp eyes fixed on you as if she’s dissecting your every word. She leans further into Julie, her body relaxed but her expression serious, waiting for you to finish venting. Meanwhile, Julie looks at you with her usual softness, though there’s an undertone of worry behind her green eyes.

"Y/N," Julie says, her voice dipping into a calm, measured tone as though she’s trying to coax a wild animal. "We’re not trying to make you feel bad, okay? It’s not your fault. It’s just... you don’t play their games like everyone else. That’s why they’re so fixated on you."

You feel your chest tighten at her words. "I didn’t ask for any of this," you say, your voice wavering as frustration claws at your insides. "I don’t want to stand out. I just want to be... normal. I just want to live my life without constantly feeling like I’m some target for... for this."You wave your hands in the air, gesturing vaguely, struggling to articulate the mess of emotions building up inside of you.

The weight of everything.

The lingering stares, the cryptic messages, the suffocating attention from people like Caitlyn and Vi is pressing down on you, threatening to crush you.Lena shifts in Julie’s arms, sitting up straighter. Her expression hardens as she interjects, "Life doesn’t work like that, Y/N. Whether you want it or not, you’ve got their attention now, and it’s not going away just because you wish it would."

Her bluntness stings, but it’s not surprising. Lena’s always been the one to cut straight to the point. No sugar-coating, no hand-holding. "Yeah, but why me?" you say, your voice cracking slightly. "What makes me so damn special? There are hundreds of other people at that school. Why are they wasting their time on me?"

Julie, ever the wildcard, leans back with a smirk. "Maybe it’s because they’ve already fucked, like, half the school," she quips, her tone light and teasing.

The room goes dead silent. Both you and Lena turn to stare at her, disbelief written all over your faces. Julie’s smirk falters, and she quickly holds up her hands in surrender, muttering, "Okay, bad timing. Sorry."

Lena pinches the bridge of her nose, exhaling sharply. "Jesus, Julie."

You can’t help the dry laugh that escapes your lips, even if it feels slightly forced. "Really helpful," you mutter, shaking your head. Despite the tension, Julie’s attempt to lighten the mood eases some of the pressure in your chest.

"Look," Lena says, cutting back in with her no-nonsense tone. "What Julie meant is that Caitlyn and Vi get bored easily. They’ve been with half the school because it’s easy for them. But you? You’re not easy. You’re not throwing yourself at them, and that pisses them off." Julie nods along quickly, clearly eager to redeem herself.

"Yeah, exactly. You’re, like, this shiny new toy they can’t figure out how to play with yet," Julie says with a shrug, but the second the words leave her mouth, she winces. "Okay, that sounded bad, but you know what I mean," she adds quickly, glancing at you with an apologetic grimace.

You sigh heavily, sinking deeper into the couch as the weight of the conversation presses down on you. "So what?" you say, your voice cracking with frustration. "Am I supposed to put on some fake facade to keep them intrigued and then throw myself at them like I’m some world-class whore?"

The words come out harsher than you intend, but you’re too stressed to care. Your fingers automatically move to pick at your nails, an anxious habit you’ve had for years. Lost in your thoughts, you don’t even notice Julie and Lena exchanging concerned glances.

"Nobody is telling you to do that," Lena says firmly, her voice cutting through your spiraling thoughts. Before you can pick at your nails any further, she reaches over, gently taking your hands in hers to stop you. Her grip is firm but comforting, grounding you in a way that catches you off guard.

"Y/N, stop," she says softly, her tone gentler now. "You don’t have to be anyone but yourself.” Julie leans closer, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, and honestly, they’re probably obsessed because you’re not flaunting yourself at them. That’s what’s driving them crazy because they’re not in control, and they hate that."

You glance between the two of them, their words sinking in slowly. "But what if they don’t stop?" you ask quietly, the vulnerability in your voice surprising even yourself.

Lena’s expression hardens slightly, her protective side kicking in. "Then we’ll make them stop," she says without hesitation. "You’re not dealing with this alone."

Julie grins, nudging your shoulder playfully. "Yeah, we’re your unofficial bodyguards now. Vi and Caitlyn won’t know what hit them."

Despite the heaviness of the conversation, a small smile tugs at your lips. Their unwavering support doesn’t erase the anxiety gnawing at you, but it helps. At least for now.

"Thanks, guys," you mumble, squeezing Lena’s hand briefly before pulling back.

"Anytime," Julie says brightly, tossing a chip into her mouth. "Now, can we stop talking about them and focus on something less depressing? Like a movie or pizza or literally anything else?"

Lena chuckles, reaching for the remote. "Agreed. Let’s do something that doesn’t involve school drama for once."

As they start flipping through the movie options, you settle back into the couch, grateful for the reprieve. But in the back of your mind, Caitlyn and Vi still linger like shadows, their presence impossible to ignore entirely.

—

As the night wears on, filled with laughter and the comforting sounds of a movie playing in the background, the cozy energy in the house begins to wind down. Eventually, the three of you are yawning more than talking, the warmth of the evening settling over you like a heavy blanket.

Lena stretches with a groan, running a hand through her hair before grabbing a soft blanket from the back of the couch. She walks over and places it in your arms with an easy smile. "Alright, time to call it a night," she says, motioning for you to follow her.

She leads you to the guest room, the room that’s practically become yours over the countless nights you’ve spent here. The familiar space feels like a second home, with its neatly made bed, soft lighting, and the faint scent of lavender from the diffuser on the dresser. It’s simple but comforting, filled with little touches that make it clear you’re always welcome here.

"Here you go," Lena says, leaning against the doorframe as you step inside. "Sleep well. You know the drill if you need anything, just yell."

"Thanks," you say softly, clutching the blanket to your chest. Lena gives you a small nod before heading back down the hall, her footsteps fading as her voice carries faintly, saying something to Julie. The warmth of the moment lingers as you glance around the room. The silence envelops you now, a stark contrast to the laughter and noise from earlier. It’s calming, even if the quiet feels just a little too heavy.

But as you settle onto the bed, adjusting the blanket around you, the muffled sounds of voices drift in from down the hall. Julie and Lena are talking or rather, yelling. Their tones rise and fall, sharp but not overly harsh. You recall Lena mentioning earlier that she needed to talk to Julie about something, and now it seems that conversation is happening.

Curiosity prickles at you as the noise carries on. For a moment, you’re tempted to slip out of bed and quietly edge closer to the door, hoping to catch bits of their exchange. But the thought feels invasive, like crossing a line that shouldn’t be crossed. You shake your head, dismissing the idea, and force yourself to settle back against the pillow. It’s probably nothing serious, you tell yourself maybe just something about Julie’s failed trigonometry test.

Still, the muffled voices pull at you, keeping you from fully relaxing. The soft glow of your phone screen catches your eye, and you pick it up, hoping to distract yourself. You scroll idly, trying to ignore the tension in the air, but your mind keeps wandering back to the distant argument and whatever it could mean.

You scroll through your Instagram feed, casually liking and commenting on your friends’ posts. It's a quiet, mindless routine that helps you unwind. But then something catches your eye—a notification. Someone’s been liking your posts.

You pause, frowning slightly. It’s strange. You don’t follow many people from school—just Julie and Lena. The rest of your followers are online friends, mutuals, and a few celebrities.

You swallow hard, brushing the thought aside and going back to your feed. *It’s not a big deal. Just keep scrolling,* you tell yourself.

But before you can fully relax, another notification pops up. This time, it’s not just likes, it’s a message.

*“@caitsworld sent you a message.”*

Moments later:

*“@vi.unfiltered sent you a message.”*

Your heart skips a beat as the notifications sit there, glaring at you from the top of your screen. For a second, you don’t even move, your thumb hovering over the screen.

Deciding not to open the messages just yet, you swipe down to check your notifications instead. Your stomach drops when you see it.

Caitlyn Kiramman and Vi. They’ve found your account. Not only that, but they’re liking your posts you’ve shared weeks, even months ago.

Your eyes widen, your heart hammering in your chest. How did they even find you? And why now?

Your thoughts race as you stare at the notifications, the pit in your stomach growing heavier with each passing second. Caitlyn and Vi the Caitlyn and Vi were combing through your profile like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

One by one, more likes roll in, filling your screen. Nine posts. That’s all you had on your page, and they’d liked every single one. Every photo, every memory, now tainted with their sudden attention.

It felt suffocating, invasive, like they were picking apart a piece of your life you had tried so hard to keep private. And yet, you couldn’t look away from the barrage of notifications lighting up your phone.

Then, something new catches your eye. Caitlyn had left a comment. The bold text of her username sat under one of your photos, mocking your attempt to ignore it. You hesitantly click to see what she said.

“Didn’t know Julie was such a cute friend,” Caitlyn wrote.

It was under a picture of you, Julie, and Lena at a festival last summer. Her words carried a familiar charm, but they felt calculated, as if she wanted you to know she was watching. You swallow hard, glancing back at the post. Caitlyn knew Julie and Lena. She’d interacted with them before. The comment wasn’t random, it was deliberate, targeted.

You decide to ignore the comment, shutting off your phone and placing it facedown on the nightstand. Whatever Caitlyn and Vi were trying to do, it could wait until tomorrow. Right now, you just wanted to sleep.

As you shift under the covers, trying to get comfortable, the sharp slam of a door echoes through the quiet house. You freeze for a moment, remembering the argument Lena and Julie were having.

Your first instinct was to get up and check on Julie. She’s always the one to take these things to heart, even if she tries to act tough. But you hesitate, knowing how they both get when they’re upset. They need space to cool off, and the last thing you want is to get caught in the middle of it.

You sink back into the bed with a sigh, pulling the blanket up to your chin. You’d check on them in the morning when things had hopefully calmed down. For now, you focus on blocking out the muffled voices and letting the exhaustion of the day pull you into sleep.

——

Walking into your biochemistry class with your headphones in, you glance up and spot Caitlyn sitting in her seat, her eyes glued to her phone with a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She hasn’t noticed you yet, and for a split second, you’re tempted to turn around and walk out before she sees you.

But after a moment of hesitation, you push forward and walk to the seat by the window, just inches away from Caitlyn. As soon as you approach, she looks up and grins. “Hello, pretty,” she says with a playful smirk, scooting her chair slightly to give you space to settle in.

You don’t respond to her greeting, instead focusing on getting your notes and supplies out of your bag, keeping your eyes fixed on the task at hand.

Once you settle into your seat, you open your notebook, take off your headphones, and start doodling absentmindedly, waiting for the professor to walk in. The room fills with the usual low hum of students settling in, but Caitlyn doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to break the silence. Instead, she just stares at you, her eyes fixed on your face as if trying to figure out what to say next. You feel her gaze but keep your focus on your doodles, pretending not to notice.

She doesn’t speak, continuing to study you quietly. Her intense stare doesn’t waver, not even when the professor walks in.

“Welcome back to class, students. I hope you learned something useful yesterday,” he says, setting his bag down on the desk. He writes his name on the board, followed by a few important points for the day’s lesson, but you can still feel Caitlyn’s gaze lingering on you from the corner of your eye.

She leans in slightly, her chin resting on her hand as she glances at your notebook. “So,” Caitlyn murmurs, her voice soft enough that the professor doesn’t notice. “Did you enjoy my little... Instagram surprise?” Your pen freezes mid-word. You glance at her, trying to gauge if she’s joking, but her smirk tells you everything.

Your pen freezes mid-word. You glance at her, trying to gauge if she’s joking, but her smirk tells you everything it wasn’t a coincidence. Caitlyn leans in closer, her elbow propped on the desk, looking thoroughly entertained by your reaction.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice,” she continues, her voice low and teasing, her eyes flicking toward your notebook before returning to your face. “I mean, Vi and I don’t usually go through that much effort for someone. You should feel special.”

You press your lips into a thin line, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a response. Instead, you go back to doodling, pretending to be unbothered, though your grip on the pen tightens.

Caitlyn doesn’t stop. “You didn’t even comment back,” she says with a dramatic sigh, as if truly offended. “I thought maybe you’d appreciate the attention. Isn’t that what people post for, anyway?”

The professor clears his throat, scanning the room for the source of the talking. When his eyes land on Caitlyn leaning toward you, a smirk spreads across his face. “Ms. Kiramman, talking in my class?” he says pointedly. Caitlyn turns to him with an exaggerated roll of her eyes, clearly unbothered.

But Jayce isn’t done. “I wonder what your mother would say about you being disruptive in my class,” he adds, his tone sharper now.

Caitlyn’s eyes narrow slightly, her posture straightening. The room grows tense as a few students glance over, sensing the brewing confrontation. “I wonder what she would say about you...” Caitlyn pauses, her lips curling into a sly smile, “...if she knew you spent more time nitpicking your students than teaching the actual material Jayce.” Her voice is calm but biting, and the class collectively holds its breath.

The professor’s smirk falters for a split second at Caitlyn’s casual use of his first name. A wave of whispers ripples through the class, and a few students stifle laughs, eagerly watching the tension unfold.

Jayce straightens, gripping his marker a little too tightly. “Ms. Kiramman,” he says, his tone clipped. “I don’t recall giving you permission to address me so informally.”

Caitlyn leans back in her chair, arms crossed, exuding unbothered confidence. “Oh, my apologies... Professor Talis,” she replies with a mock sweetness that only sharpens the edge in her tone. “I’m just trying to meet the same level of professionalism you bring to the classroom.”

The room is silent now, the kind of silence that feels heavy and electric. Even you can’t help but glance at her in disbelief. Caitlyn’s audacity seems boundless, and while part of you wants to roll your eyes, another part can’t deny how effortlessly she commands attention.

Jayce takes a deep breath, visibly attempting to maintain his composure. “Perhaps if you put as much effort into your studies as you do into your... commentary, you’d actually excel in this course,” he retorts before turning back to the board, clearly signaling the end of the exchange.

Caitlyn doesn’t seem fazed, her lips curling into a faint smirk as she leans back in her chair. Her eyes, however, drift right back to you. You feel the weight of her gaze before she even speaks.

“You can ignore me all you want, Y/N,” she whispers, her tone dropping into something softer, more persuasive. “But we both know this isn’t over.”

Your stomach twists. You keep your eyes fixed on your notebook, pretending to focus on the professor’s notes, but the words blur together. Caitlyn’s presence feels suffocating, her voice still lingering in your ears. You silently curse yourself for not just skipping class altogether.

The lecture drags on, the professor’s words a distant hum in the background as your thoughts race. Every so often, you catch Caitlyn shifting in her seat, her pen tapping against the desk in a rhythm that feels deliberately designed to remind you she’s still there, still waiting.

When class finally ends, you’re the first to pack up, eager to escape the suffocating tension. You sling your bag over your shoulder and make a beeline for the door, but Caitlyn’s voice stops you just as you step into the hallway.

“Y/N, wait up!” she calls, her tone casual but laced with that same infuriating confidence.

You stop reluctantly, turning just enough to see her strolling toward you, her usual smirk firmly in place.

“What do you want, Caitlyn?” you ask, your voice sharper than you intended.

She raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by your reaction. “Just wanted to check in,” she says smoothly. “You seemed... distracted today.”

“I wonder why,” you mutter under your breath, turning to walk away, but Caitlyn matches your pace effortlessly.

“Come on, pretty,” she says, her voice dropping into something almost playful. “No need to be so defensive. I was just trying to make things interesting.”

“Interesting isn’t the word I’d use,” you shoot back, keeping your eyes forward.

“Then what word would you use?” she asks, her tone lighter now, teasing.

You don’t answer, refusing to give her the satisfaction. But Caitlyn doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, your silence only fuels her.

“See you around, Y/N,” she says finally, her voice carrying that same confidence as always. And just like that, she’s gone, leaving you standing in the hallway with a mix of frustration and something else you can’t quite name.

—-

You walk over to Julie’s locker, spotting her staring at her phone, absorbed in whatever’s on the screen. You hesitate for a moment, unsure whether to bring up the argument she and Lena had last night. You don’t want to interfere or make things worse. But before you can decide, Julie looks up, catching your gaze. Her face softens, and she forces a smile, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

She walks over to you and gives you a hug before interlocking her hands with yours. You smile at your best friend before breaking the silence “You’re not gonna tell me what happened?” you finally ask, breaking the silence. Your voice is soft but edged with curiosity.

Julie glances at you, her lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s nothing, Y/N. Don’t worry about it.”

You stop walking, forcing her to pause and turn back toward you. “Julie, come on. I’m not stupid. I heard you two arguing last night, and it didn’t sound like ‘nothing.’ What’s going on?”

Julie sighs, her shoulders slumping slightly as she pulls her hand out of yours and runs it through her hair. She glances around, almost like she’s avoiding eye contact, clearly wrestling with whether she’s ready to open up. “It’s just... a lot, I guess,” she starts, her voice softer than usual. You nod, silently encouraging her to continue. You’re here to listen.

“I love her,” Julie says quietly, her words weighed down with emotion. “I really do. But it feels like I’m the only one trying to make this work.” She shakes her head, frustration lacing her voice. “We live together, Y/N, and anytime we argue, I have to be the one to step up, apologize first, even when I’m not the one in the wrong. I shouldn’t have to do that every time we disagree about something, you know?”

You give her a small nod of understanding. This isn’t the first time Julie’s expressed her frustrations with Lena, but you can tell this time feels different. There’s something heavier in her words.

Julie pauses for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip. "I know I’m... insufferable to be around sometimes. But I do try. I try to change…for myself, for her. Every single day. Because I do see a future with her." Her voice falters, and you can see the deep-rooted frustration written all over her face. She’s holding back, trying so hard not to directly criticize Lena, but it’s clear this is all weighing on her.

You step closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Julie, you're not insufferable. You’re doing the best you can, and that’s all anyone can ask for."

Julie doesn’t immediately respond, but the quiet look she gives you speaks volumes. You know she feels torn between the love she has for Lena and the frustration of trying to make it work alone. And as much as Julie tries to protect Lena, she can’t hide the exhaustion in her eyes.

Julie takes a deep breath, her eyes dropping to the ground as she searches for the right words. "I don’t want to sound like I’m complaining or ungrateful. She has her own issues, too. She’s not perfect. But... when we’re together, it feels like she’s always pulling away. Like she has her own life, her own priorities, and I’m just... not a part of it sometimes. She says she wants space, but honestly, it feels more like she’s just trying to get away from me."

Her voice wavers slightly, and you can see the hurt in her eyes. "I’m trying to understand, Y/N. I really am. But sometimes, I wonder if she even wants this relationship as much as I do."

You feel a twist in your stomach, knowing how much this is weighing on your friend. You gently ask, "Have you tried contacting her? Reaching out?"

Julie shakes her head, glancing down at her phone in frustration. "I’ve been texting her nonstop since yesterday. Back to back. But she’s been leaving me on read every time. Now I don’t know what to do."

her lips pressed together as if holding back the weight of everything she's been carrying. "I just wish we could communicate better. But when we talk, it feels like we’re speaking two different languages. She needs her space, but I need her to be present. And lately, it’s felt like we’re just... drifting apart."

A silence falls between you both, and you can’t help but feel for her. Watching Julie go through this isn't easy, but you know she needs to hear this. "Have you told her how you’re feeling? About needing more communication and time together?"

Julie looks up at you, her eyes tired but thoughtful. “I’ve tried. But it doesn’t always come out the way I want. When I talk to her, it feels like I’m being needy or demanding. Like I’m suffocating her when all I want is to be with her. And then I wonder if I’m the problem.”

"You're not the problem," you assure her gently, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Relationships have their ups and downs, and communication is key. But it has to go both ways. She needs to understand where you’re coming from too."

Julie nods slowly, taking in your words. "I know, but sometimes it feels like we’re just... stuck. Like we’re not moving forward." She exhales heavily, a mixture of frustration and resignation in her tone.

"I just want us to be okay, Y/N. I want to feel like we’re on the same team again."

You squeeze her hand tighter, offering her all the support you can. "I know you do. And you deserve that, Julie. You both do. I think it’s just going to take some time and effort from both of you. But I believe you’ll figure it out. You’re strong, and you know what you want."

She smiles faintly, the weight on her shoulders slightly lighter. "Thanks, Y/N. I’m glad you’re here. I really am."

"Always," you reply softly, pulling her into a quick hug. You know that things won’t change overnight, but you also know that whatever happens, you’ll be by her side through it all.

—-

Julie gives you a small smile before walking off to her next class, thanking you for your advice. You return the smile, watching her go before turning to enter the library.

The usual silence of the library wraps around you as you walk toward the back, where your favorite spot awaits. It’s tucked away, hidden behind a few tall bookshelves, far from the hustle and bustle of the main area. Not many people venture back here unless they’re really looking for solitude, and that’s exactly why you love it.

You settle into your spot, setting your things down on the table with a quiet breath. The calm of the secluded space fills you, and you’re grateful for the moment of peace. With your books open and notes in front of you, you try to focus on the material.

But as you read, your mind drifts, and Caitlyn and Vi start to occupy your thoughts. You can’t help but think about how persistent they are, how desperate they seem to get to know you. It’s almost endearing in a way, but then again, you know them well enough to understand they do this with every girl they want to get with.

You pause, wondering if you could be different. Maybe you could somehow befriend them, keep things casual and not get caught up in whatever relationship they might want.

But that’s the problem, isn’t it? They don’t just want a friendship. Whatever they set their sights on, they get, and it’s hard to imagine anything else.

The confusion still lingers. Why are they putting so much energy into getting your attention, only to act like you don’t exist the very next day? It doesn’t make sense. The whole situation feels like a mess, and you’re left wondering where it could all go or if you even want it to.

The soft hum of the library fades into the background as you try to refocus, but that nagging feeling of being watched doesn’t go away. You glance up briefly, scanning the room. At first, everything seems normal: students hunched over textbooks, a librarian quietly organizing a cart of books. But then, out of the corner of your eye, you spot two familiar figures strolling through the library doors.

Caitlyn and Vi.

Your stomach drops. It’s not that they haven’t been everywhere you’ve turned lately, but this feels different, almost deliberate.

Caitlyn spots you first. Her sharp gaze catches yours, and a smug smile spreads across her face. She nudges Vi, who glances your way. Her expression isn’t one of amusement it’s more intrigued, like she’s sizing you up. Together, they start making their way through the aisles, their footsteps casual, like this is just another random stop.

But you know better. You can feel the weight of their attention on you, and you’re left wondering if this is just another game they’re playing, or if they actually want something more.

You try to bury yourself in your notebook, pretending not to notice them. Maybe if you ignore them long enough, they’ll lose interest and leave.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Caitlyn’s voice cuts through the quiet like a knife.

You look up reluctantly to find her leaning against the edge of your table, her usual confident smirk firmly in place. Vi stands beside her, arms crossed, her piercing gaze locked on you.

“I didn’t know you were the library type,” Caitlyn continues, tilting her head slightly. “Always so studious, huh?”

“Or hiding,” Vi adds, her voice low and teasing.

“I’m not hiding,” you snap before you can stop yourself. The last thing you want to do is engage, but they have a way of pulling words out of you.

“Relax, we’re just here to say hi,” Caitlyn says, her tone dripping with amusement. She reaches out, tapping your notebook with her finger. “Working on something important?”

“Class notes,” you reply shortly, keeping your answers brief.

“Class notes?” Vi echoes, her brow arching. “Sounds thrilling.”

Caitlyn chuckles, pulling out the chair across from you and sitting down without so much as an invitation. “You don’t mind if we join you, do you? It’s such a cozy little spot you’ve got here.”

Your pulse quickens, but you force yourself to stay calm. “Actually, I was just about to leave.”

Caitlyn’s smirk deepens. “Oh, don’t go on our account. We’re harmless.”

Vi finally takes a seat as well, leaning back in her chair like she owns the place. “Besides,” she says, her voice smooth and deliberate, “you’ve been on our minds lately. Haven’t you noticed?”

Your stomach twists as you remember the Instagram notifications from last night. They know exactly what they’re doing.

“What do you want?” you ask, your voice steady despite the unease creeping up your spine.

“Who says we want anything?” Caitlyn replies, feigning innocence.

“But since you’re asking...” Vi leans forward, her eyes locking with yours. “Maybe we just want to get to know you better.”

Their words hang in the air, heavy with implication. Every instinct screams at you to leave, but something keeps you rooted to the spot. Caitlyn’s smirk, Vi’s intense stare it’s like they’re daring you to make the first move.

Their words hang in the air, thick with unspoken meaning. Every part of you screams to leave, but something keeps you frozen in place. Caitlyn’s smirk, Vi’s intense gaze it’s as if they’re daring you to make the first move, to fall into their game.

You gather your things quickly, heart pounding in your chest as you try to create distance between yourself and their electric presence. You’ve had enough of their games. The last thing you want is to be pulled back into whatever twisted power play they’re weaving.

“I’ve got to go,” you mutter, grabbing your backpack, but before you can make your escape, Caitlyn’s arms slip around your waist, pulling you back toward her. Her chin rests lightly on your shoulder, and you can feel her breath against your skin, warm and steady.

“Where do you think you’re going, Y/N? Hmm?” Caitlyn’s voice is teasing, but there’s a definite edge to it, like a warning that settles heavily in your chest.

“Let me guess,” Caitlyn continues, her voice dropping lower, controlled yet laced with amusement. “You’re going to leave, pretend like nothing’s happening, and we’ll just fade into the background, right?” Her chuckle is soft but sharp. “You think that’s how this works?”

Vi steps closer, resting her arms on the table with a deliberate motion. Her eyes track you, unwavering and intense. When she speaks, her tone is unyielding, the words slow and deliberate. “You can leave, Y/N. But it’s not going to change anything. We’re still going to be here. And we’re not going to let you walk away like it’s nothing.”

You freeze, your body tensing as the weight of their words settles over you. It feels like you’re caught in a web, each strand tightening with every second. Caitlyn’s arms are still around your waist, and Vi’s gaze never leaves you, unwavering and calculating.

You freeze, the weight of their words settling over you like a heavy, suffocating blanket. Each second feels like the strands of a web tightening, pulling you deeper into their grasp. Caitlyn’s arms are still wrapped around your waist, possessive and firm, while Vi’s gaze is locked on you, intense and predatory.

“Please... let me go,” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly as you try to steady it. You attempt to pull away from Caitlyn’s grip, but she just tightens her hold, keeping you in place, her touch searing through the fabric of your clothes.

“I don’t want to play this game anymore,” you beg, your words catching in your throat. “Please... just leave me alone.”

Caitlyn’s breath is warm against your ear as she chuckles softly, the sound both teasing and dangerous. “Game?” she murmurs, her voice rich with amusement and something darker, more insistent. “We’re not playing games, Y/N. We’re simply trying to get to know you better. You’ve been avoiding us long enough.”

Vi steps closer, her movements slow and deliberate, her eyes flicking over your face as if searching for the truth behind your mask. “We’re not trying to make things complicated,” she says, her voice smooth and coaxing, though there’s an underlying edge to it that makes you doubt her sincerity. “But you’re making it hard for us to just let this be... easy.”

Your pulse quickens as the air between you all thickens with tension, the weight of their presence smothering you. You’re caught between the desire to escape and the unsettling feeling that there’s nowhere to run. Caitlyn’s touch sends a shiver down your spine, her grip on you almost possessive, like she’s marking her territory, and Vi’s eyes intense, unwavering make your skin prickle with heat.

You struggle to breathe, the proximity of them suffocating you, the room feeling smaller with every rapid heartbeat. The air is thick, and the weight of their presence presses in on you, making it feel like you’re trapped in a cage. You’re on the verge of breaking down, the fear and frustration bubbling to the surface. All you want is to escape, but Caitlyn’s grip doesn’t loosen; if anything, it tightens, holding you in place. Even if you could break free from her hold, you know Vi would just step in, blocking your way with her calculated intensity.

“Please, I’ll do anything. Just let me go,” you beg, the words slipping from your lips like a desperate plea for mercy. Your voice cracks as tears begin to sting your eyes, threatening to spill over.

You look at Vi, your eyes wide, shaking your head as your breath comes out in uneven gasps. “I don’t want any part of this. Please, just let me go,” you plead, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and frustration. Every part of you screams to break free, but the tension in the air weighs you down, making it feel impossible to escape.

Caitlyn’s fingers continue their slow, deliberate circles on your waist, each touch igniting a sense of helplessness that makes your skin crawl. “You keep saying that, but you're still here,” she murmurs against your ear, her lips brushing lightly against your skin. “We’re not making you stay, Y/N. You choose to stay, every time.”

Vi watches you, her eyes cold and calculating. She tilts her head slightly, studying your face as if she’s savoring your reaction. “It doesn’t have to be like this,” she says, the words dripping with something darker than just coaxing. “You can walk away. But you’re still here. What does that tell you?”

Your heart pounds in your chest, a mix of adrenaline and unease coursing through your veins as you struggle to catch your breath. “I don’t want this,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, eyes flicking nervously between them. Yet, the air around you feels charged, their presence heavy and impossible to ignore, like a force pulling you under.

“Then why haven’t you walked away?” Caitlyn’s voice drips with quiet challenge, her words laced with a teasing edge that sends a shiver down your spine. She releases her hold on you, her gaze never wavering, and with a firm but unhurried push, she guides you down into the chair. Before you can process, they close the space around you, their proximity overwhelming, leaving you breathless and cornered.

Caitlyn’s fingers trace along your jawline, her smile deceptively soft as she leans closer, her breath warm against your skin. “We just want to be your friends,” she repeats, her tone sweet but layered with something far more sinister. Her eyes bore into yours, as if daring you to contradict her.

Your chest tightens, your pulse hammering against your ribs. You hate this, everything about it feels wrong but your body refuses to move, locked in place by their unrelenting presence. The air around you feels heavy, suffocating, and no matter how much you want to get away, it’s as if the weight of them keeps you tethered.

“What do you want from me?” you manage to choke out, your voice trembling despite your attempt to sound firm.

Caitlyn tilts her head, her lips curling into a smirk. “Oh, it’s not what we want from you,” she murmurs, her fingers gently pressing your chin up so you can’t look away. “It’s what we want with you.”

Vi steps closer, her presence looming over you like a storm. Her hands grip the back of your chair, boxing you in even further. “The question, Y/N,” she says, her voice low and rough, “is what you really want. You can keep pretending, keep fighting it, but we can see it in your eyes.” Her gaze is unwavering, and it feels like she’s stripping you bare with just a look.

Caitlyn’s lips brush the edge of your ear as she whispers, “So, tell us. Are you going to keep lying to yourself, or are you ready to stop running?”

Ⓒ︎ seulszn

[teddybearty]

I love the way you draw plus size men like Homer and Peter, You make them handsome without taking anything away.

Thank you thank you!! 💕

[twinstxrs]

idk if this is accurate but i’ve felt like in previous seasons riz & gorgug have been one of the inter-bad kids dynamics we’ve seen the least of & this season has been so great in that aspect. gorgug having helped make some of riz’s magic gear. riz helping gorgug with his studies. the shared birthday party. gorgug’s gift to riz being something he himself made to protect riz. riz’s gift to gorgug being something he illegally grabbed to protect gorgug. gorgug who utilizes rage to put his body on the line for his friends & riz who will take deep levels of mental stress for his friends. even though it was within the context of a joke, riz calling gorgug an “absolute sweetie.” like yea they might not be in a band together or both part of a presidential campaign team or owlbears teammates, but they’d go to war for each other, because they’re best friends.