#and if youre really worried about referring to me

[shuaflix]

the xu minghao dilemma (preview)

PAIRING ▸ xu minghao x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ fluff, humor, suggestive, coffee shop au, college au, childhood friends to lovers au

SUMMARY ▸ like most film students, you find yourself experiencing the worst creative block of your life when you're tasked to film a documentary for your final project. enter: your old childhood best friend turned stranger, xu minghao—an (incredibly handsome) ex-dancer and barista who just might be the spark of inspiration you need to make the best film of your academic career. on the flip side, minghao needs this film to win him the scholarship that lets him dance again. despite all, your circumstances don't stop your old, repressed feelings for minghao from resurfacing.

ESTIMATED WORD COUNT ▸ around 20k

TAG LIST ▸ @jenoentry @wonudazed @aaniag @ily-cuz-i

AUTHOR'S NOTE ▸ full fic will be up next week ! send me an ask or comment to be added to the tag list ♡

“THEY'RE GOOD-LOOKING GUYS.”

You thought back to the demographic of cafégoers when you first visited Serenity Café. The majority were, in fact, teenage girls. You wouldn’t have been surprised if you discovered that Minghao’s face was the selling point, but to have multiple men like him working there? Not only were you worried that the coffee shop would turn into the Ouran Host Club, but you simply couldn’t picture even more people of the same visual caliber as Xu Minghao. 

Before you could reply, Minghao noted your pause and asked, “What’re you thinking about?”

“I’m just curious.”

“Curious about what?”

When you looked at him, his gaze frantically scattered about before he returned to looking down at his wadded-up wrapper. You wouldn’t have found it weird if you caught him looking at you, but the fact that he looked away so quickly made you feel conscious of how warm you were getting under your jacket. 

“Just wondering if they’re really all that. I find it hard to believe that whoever Jeonghan called is gonna bring in more of a crowd than you already do.”

Minghao looked baffled before he chuckled. “I don’t bring in a crowd.”

“There were so many girls when I visited yesterday! Didn’t you notice them giggling after you left their table?”

“They were probably just giggling over whatever teenage girls giggle over.”

Minghao was oblivious by nature. He was also a man, therefore he was stupid. 

Coupled together, it was a disastrous combination that resulted in wildly attractive Xu Minghao being utterly useless when it came to recognizing that he was blessed with a first-rate genetic sequence. 

“Hao,” you started slowly, “teenage girls giggle over guys.” 

“Oh.” He frowned, and you held back from rolling your eyes as you witnessed him take actual offense to what was supposed to be a compliment. You figured he had deeply misunderstood what you were getting at.

“Cute guys,” you corrected.

“Oh.”

You straightened up and stared back at him, bewildered. “You don’t even know, do you?”

“Know what?”

“Your—” Unable to articulate what you were trying to say (partly because it was far too embarrassing to outrightly call Minghao attractive), you made a dramatic gesture to refer to his face. “That!” 

To your horror, he turned incredibly smug. “What, my face? What about it?” 

“Uh…”

“Are you trying to say I look good, Y/N?”

This just in: Xu Minghao was a sick and twisted man.

[flemingsfreckles]

Surprise Visitor (18+)

Synopsis: based on this request, You and jessie reunite at the Chelsea/Arsenal game in Washington DC and you finally get to act on feelings that were interrupted by her transfer.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), oral sex (r receiving and giving), fingering (r giving), making out, little bit of dry humping, language

WC: 5.7k

A/N: this is it (at least for now) I explain more in this post as to why I’m taking a step back from writing, it’s maybe not permanent and I’ll definitely still be around to read other work, make posts about transfers, all that stuff, but just taking a step back from writing for now. Love all of ya, thank you :)

“I have a surprise.” Niamh grabs your hand pulling you behind her.

“Hang on, let me get my damn shoes on.” You complained as the defender continued to drag you down the hallway, hobbling behind her you tried to get your heel into your shoe.

“Ta-da!” You hear Niamh say and you look up from your shoes where she stood arms out.

“Oh my god.” You feel silly as your jaw drops, clasping your hand over it in an attempt to hide it. “Jessie.”

“Hi.” The Canadian’s smile is soft. You can’t hold back anymore, rushing with arms open to Jessie, nearly slamming your body into her when you came into contact. Her arms around you wasn’t something you had felt since you dropped her at the airport, both of you in tears as she moved to Portland.

It’s like climbing into bed after a long day, stepping into a hot shower after being out in the cold, the first taste of a home cooked meal after being away for months, being back in Jessie’s arms is immediately relaxing.

“Sorry, I’ve just really missed you.” You finally speak up, shifting away slightly, both of you releasing each other.

“I’ve missed you so much.” Jessie affirms your own feelings.

Shaking your head in astonishment you still can’t believe the woman was standing in front of you. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I told Niamh, I wanted to surprise you.” You get lost in her smile, you had always gotten lost in her smile. She flashes a glance to Niamh who takes the hint and quickly excuses herself back to the locker room.

You wait for her to walk away, giving you the chance to fully look at Jessie. Scanning her head to toe, her blue and green Nike shorts, her grey shirt, the way her hair was down but neatly contained by the hat on her head. Her freckles are more prominent than the last time you saw her, the summer sun doing her well.

“You look good Jess.” You eye her up, her simple outfit allows you to fully appreciate her, her tan skin, her brown eyes, the way her hair was neatly placed. “Like, really good.”

You notice how she shys slightly at the compliment. “Thanks, the move has been good for me, I really like it in Portland.”

“Yeah it seems like your type out there.”

“What does that mean?” Jessie gently shoves your shoulder.

You shrug,worried you’ve offended the girl. “Biking, sustainability, knitting, the city gives off those vibes.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

There’s a small beat of quiet and you say what you’ve been thinking since you first saw the woman. “I do miss you though, everyday.”

“I know, I miss you too. I can’t believe you got here without me knowing.”

“Niamh helped.”

“Probably because she knew how I feel, felt, how I felt.” You admit.

“Huh?”

“How I felt about you, I told her.” you didn’t have to explicitly say anything for Jessie to immediately know what you were referring to.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, well not all of it. It’s just, I had a really, really hard time when you left. I couldn’t sleep, I didn’t take care of myself super well, and Niamh noticed, she was there for me. One night she came over to help me get my place back in order and I embarrassingly broke down and let it spill about my feelings.”

Jessie nods slowly, taking in what you had just told her.

“I didn’t tell her we kissed and I didn’t say anything about how you feel, how you felt.” You quickly correct yourself, realizing it would be naive to think she still had those feelings.

“How I feel.” Jessie says, nodding at you with a smile on her face.

“Hey you two, time’s up! You gotta come get ready.” Niamh’s voice, while usually a warm welcome in your life, was something you wish didn’t exist in the moment.

You look at Niamh before back at Jessie, you could feel the sadness start to bubble in your chest, you didn’t want to say goodbye again. You couldn’t.

“Go.” Jessie lightly pushed your shoulder. “I’ll be around after the game, maybe we can grab dinner? Niamh said you’d be free tonight. Or I’m around tomorrow.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Good luck, go kill it.”

As you took the pitch, all you wanted was to be off of it. You wanted to be back in Jessie’s presence, listening to her voice, watching her speak, you wanted to be with her. But instead you had 90 minutes between you and talking to her again.

You couldn’t help but find yourself scanning the crowd, looking for her. It took you until the 26th minute to find her. You’d run over to take a corner, bending down to pick up the ball, spinning it in your hands, and when you looked up, there she was. The focused look on her face, as if she was the one on the pitch, quickly turned into a smile when the two of you made eye contact.

You let out a sigh of relief hearing the final whistle. Chelsea had scraped by with a victory and now the only thing you had to think about was the freckled covered Canadian that stood patiently across the field talking with the fellow Canadians. You let her talk not wanting to interrupt her reunion with her other friends as well.

When she finally has a moment to herself you make your way over to her. “Hi.”

“Hi. Congrats, you played well.”

You shrug, she was just being nice, you knew it, you’d been admittedly distracted. “It wasn’t my best.”

“Well, it was still good soccer.” Her hand finds its way to your shoulders. “Don't be so hard on yourself.” You give her a sarcastic smile, Jessie always got on you when you’d tear yourself apart after a bad game or practice. She always knew how to calm you down, to remind you bad days happen, you’d missed her presence in your life greatly the past few days.

“That dinner invite still stand? I’d love to spend more time with you.” It may have sounded needy coming from your mouth but it was the truth, you wanted more time with her, that’s all you had wanted since she left, more time.

“Of course!”

“Okay, let me get showered and changed, I’ll meet you after?”

“Yeah.” Jessie nods and you head back to the locker room making sure to sign a few more jerseys and signs on your way. It was maybe the fastest you’d ever showered and changed, throwing on sweats and a shirt before throwing your gear haphazardly into your bag and heading out to find Jessie. The fatigue of the week finally begins to set in as you walk out of the stadium. You find her standing against a wall looking around. Her eyes catch yours as you let a yawn out.

“Hey.” You say mid-yawn, waving at her.

She smiles at you. “You look exhausted, I know I said it before but you played very well.” Extending her hand she makes a grabbing motion at you, “Give me your bag.”

“Yeah, exhausted is one way to put it, it’s a mix of traveling, London to New York to DC and the jet lag is finally catching up to me.” You pass the bag to her, she slings it over her shoulder.

“Want to just grab a pizza instead, come back to mine? We can just relax?”

You let out a small sigh of relief, while you would’ve done it for her, you didn’t feel like dressing up and going out. “That sounds perfect.”

That’s how the two of you ended up sitting on the couch Of Jessie’s hotel room, feet on the table, the box of pizza balancing on each of your thighs between you. Conversation has been flowing easily, a mix of old inside jokes, updates on your life, all coming up.

“So, you been seeing anyone in Portland?” Jessie had yet to mention dating, the topic simply avoided in conversation, but the question had been sitting in the back of your head since you saw her again, so you finally asked.

She gives you a quick smile, “Just jumping right to it then.” Looking down at the box and reaching for another slice she answers. “But no, I’m still working through some stuff, moving, captain, all that has just been a lot. What about you?”

“Nah, still getting over someone I never got to have.” You say nonchalantly, hoping she’ll pry.

Knowing her well, she does. “Oh really?

“Yeah, she uh, she was really cool, little nerdy, and pretty too, but then she moved for work and we never got to try, but I think we were pretty close to getting into something the week she left, we kissed for the first time in a hotel room and then she panicked and immediately told me she was moving.” You can’t help but contain the smirk that grows on your face as you watch Jessie realize what you were talking about.

“Oh you’re talking about me.”

“I am.” You nod, taking a bite of your pizza.

“I was stupid to wait around so long. I just wasn’t sure how you felt and I didn’t want to make things weird, and then moving to Portland, it was the easy way out, if things had gotten weird. I should’ve kissed you back when we won the league your first season.”

“I mean at least you did it eventually.”

Jessie hums in acknowledgment and you think back to when you first kissed her.

The two of you had been sitting on her hotel bed while Niamh was showering. You had been play fighting, you’re not even sure over what anymore. Gentle shoves became firm ones before you were tackling each other, and before you knew it you found yourself above her, your lips awfully close to hers.

It wasn’t the first time you’d been in that position with Jessie. Mistimed tackles on the pitch, other play fights, bus rides where you’d fall asleep on each other’s shoulders, your face and hers had been close before. You had always backed out, never giving in to your desire to kiss her.

But now, on the bed, on top of her, you decided against your better judgement and let your eyes wander to her lips, then back up, indicating what you wanted. When you saw Jessie just barely nod and move her head so her lips were just near yours, you leaned in connecting your lips. It had been a hard first kiss, but it confirmed all your feelings you had been harboring.

When you had pulled away you had expected Jessie to question why you’d done it, to yell at you, to tell you to leave. “I’m leaving Chelsea.” Were instead the words that came out of her mouth.

“What?” You were stunned, by the kiss and by her words equally.

“I, I got an offer, Portland, with Janine and Sinc, and I haven’t signed it, but I’m going to, the staff here already know. I’ll be leaving Sunday.”

You had been so sudden. The kiss, the hope of something only to be crushed by the news of her leaving. You felt as you had gone through the stages of grief trying to process Jessie’s news. You didn’t believe it at first, you knew deep down it was true, she’d be leaving you. You were mad, angry at her, not necessarily for leaving, but for not telling you sooner. You were upset, sad, spent the few nights left crying in your bed. And then you accepted it. You couldn’t do anything, she was leaving, she needed to. So you did the only thing you could think of and offered to drive her to the airport for her flight away from you.

There's silence between you and you’re not sure if she’s also replaying the kiss in her head too, or telling you the news, or the feeling of her walking through the airport doors away from you as you sat in your car fighting through tears to drive home.

“You’re cold.” Jessie says after you have a quick shiver as the air conditioner in her room kicked on.

“I’m good Jess.” Before you can try to convince her you were fine, she’s off the couch and rummaging in her bag.

You roll your eyes at her eagerness as she frantically digs. “Here.” A wave of red comes at you as she tosses a hoodie in your direction.

You flip it on your hands to see the Canada Soccer logo staring back at you. “I’m not wearing that!” You toss it back at her.

“Oh come on, it’s just a sweatshirt.”Jessie rolls her eyes at you as she sits back down, passing the fabric back into your lap.

“It’s a Canada sweatshirt.” You pass it back to her, holding it firmly into her lap, jokingly disturbed look on your face.

Jessie gasps pretending to be overly offended. “Don’t say that like it’s disgusting. Just put it on.”

“No!” You squeal as Jessie grabs your wrist, trying to put the sweatshirt over your arm. You manage to twist from her grip and dart across the room. She follows, chasing you. It’s no surprise when she catches you, you were faster in a sprint but she was always more agile.

Her hands grab around your waist pulling you in hard so your back is against her chest. You stop resisting for a moment, and relax into her, you can feel her heavy breathing behind you, the rise and fall of her chest. Just when she begins to loosen her grip on you, you wiggle free, managing to make it a few feet before she has you cornered in the entryway of the room.

Jokingly, you put your hands up by your head in surrender. Jessie is still just a few feet in front of you, sweatshirt in hand. There’s a tension, you can feel it, from the way you’re both panting, the intensity of her eyes on yours, the way she bites her bottom lip as she looks at you. It’s as if time freezes, for just a moment, the two of you on the edge of changing everything.

And then Jessie moves.

It’s swift, agile, just as she had moved around the room before, only this time it’s toward you. Two steps in and the hoodie is dropped to the floor, Jessie’s hands ahead reach for yours holding them out at the side of your head and now against the hotel door. Her chest is pressed against yours followed quickly by her lips pressed to your lips.

“Is this okay?” Jessie pulls back enough to talk, both of you breathing heavily, her hands still holding yours firmly to the wall.

Not sure how to even respond, you nod, mouth open as you stare at Jessie’s eyes that are intensely watching you. “Kiss me again.”

She does, releasing your hands as she occupies her left hand on your hip and her right hand on your cheek, pulling your body into her. Making out with Jessie was everything you’d imagined it could be. The perfect mix of soft, gentle touches as her fingers grazed your cheek, your neck, your hips, your stomach, she mixed it well with rough, bites to your lips, teeth grazing on ear and neck.

When she pulled her lips back from yours, her forehead resting on yours, her eyes stayed closed for a moment before slowly opening, meeting yours. “Just fuck me already Jessie.”

A small smirk comes across her lips. “Of course.” She kissed you hard again, her hands pushing you hard against the wall of her hotel room. Your fingers ran themselves through her hair, pulling slightly and keeping her close to you. A whine left your lips as she pulled back only to be quickly replaced with a deep moan as her lips found their way to your neck.

Starting with a hot open mouth kiss to the side you could feel your knees growing weak as she moved down before stalling just above your collarbone. Jessie attached her lips again, this time sucking.

You shouldn’t let her, you know that, you were an adult and a hickey, where people would see, wasn’t a good idea. Your teammates would see, they’d know something happened but the feeling of Jessie’s lips hot on you convinced you not to pull her away and you happily let her mark you.

She releases your neck a moment later, her hands grazing under your shirt, fingers cool on your abdomen. Growing impatient, you push her fingers off before grabbing the bottom of your shirt and lifting it over your head. You toss the shirt at Jessie, slinging it over her shoulder as her eyes remain glued to your bra. “You were taking too long.” You tease her, her eyes flickering up to yours before she returns back to your chest.

“Fuck we should’ve done this before you left, you’re so pretty.” She lowers her face for her lips to meet the top of your chest. Taking advantage by her distraction, you take the change to push Jessie, moving off the door before pushing her against the wall near the entry. Your hand grabs under her chin, lifting her head away from your breast so that you could kiss her again. The kiss is short before you’re breaking away, completely pulling away from contact with Jessie and walking further into her room, toward the bed. As you do so your fingers slip under the band of your bra and you’re quickly dropping it on the floor as you walk.

You lay back on her bed, letting your head hit the pillow. Jessie is quick to follow you into the room, kneeling at the end of the bed while you get comfortable. Once you stop adjusting, Jessie hovers over you, her eyes admiring your now naked chest. Your hands grab for the bottom of her shirt and she quickly helps, grabbing the bottom and pulling it over her head leaving her in a simple sports bra before returning her attention to you.

“Hmmm, still cold?” Jessie says, running her fingers down the valley of your breast, satisfied with the way your skin reacted to her touch and your nipples perked at the chill of the room and the desire to be touched.

Continuing her actions from before Jessie begins kissing down your chest, stopping this time to run her lips and tongue over your nipples. She alternates, soft sucking, quick twirls of her tongue before she switches sides, evenly distributing her attention. You reward her with breathy sighs and quiet moans, your thighs flexing in anticipation. The heat between your thighs was growing, you wanted and needed Jessie.

Testing the waters you grind your hips upward, immediately feeling Jessie react, her own hips rolling back against yours. She shifts, her lips still scattering, kissing along your chest and abdomen, moving so her thigh is between your legs. She shifts again and you feel the pressure of her thigh against your core. Unable to help yourself you roll your hips, grinding yourself against her in hope of even a tiny bit of relief. She lets you use her leg for a minute before she pulls away, smiling as what would be an otherwise embarrassing whine comes from your lips.

She sits back on her knees, her fingertips moving to your waist, fingers toying with the band of your sweats.

“Take them off.” You ask her, that’s all it takes and Jessie’s hands are grasping the elastic of your sweats and underwear pulling both down your legs in a rather quick motion. “Someone’s eager.” You tease her.

“A bit.” Jessie mumbles, a blush growing across her cheeks.

Jessie adjusts again, one hand holding herself above you, the other between your legs. You watch as her mouth drops in surprise as her fingers make contact with your arousal, her eyes widen for a moment before they roll back, closing.

Her fingers trace through you a few times before settling on your clit, gently circling it, looking between her fingers then up to you, you sigh as Jessie increases her pressure, you grind your hips meeting her movements.

Leaning down to kiss you, you let out a moan against her lips. The mixture of Jessie’s mouth on yours while her fingers touched you where you had longed for her for months was overwhelming. You’d had feelings for the girl above you for months, intense feelings, you’d always wanted her, she was everything. You can feel emotions, overwhelming desire and need and also the feeling of being close to her, to have her skin on hers.

“I want you.” You’re brought out of your own thoughts by Jessie speaking to you.

“You have me Jess.” Affirming her request, you were more than happy for her to make you hers in this moment, willingly offering yourself to her.

She shakes her head slightly. “No, not just right now, like for good, I want you.” The seriousness in her voice draws you from your arousal driven haze. You take a second to look at Jessie. Her eyes filled with lust and also what you had come to know as adoration. She looked a bit overwhelmed as she stared down at you. “I, I don't want anyone else to think they even have a chance.” She shakes her head more aggressively, curls bouncing in front of her own face.

“Jessie.” You pull your hands from her hips and bring them to the sides of her face, forcing her to look at you, preventing her eyes from wandering out of nerves. “No one else has a chance.” You mirror the shake of her head. “You’re what I want.”

“What about the distance?” She whispers eyes breaking their lock with yours, her thumb restlessly grazing your hip. You couldn’t believe this was the conversation you were having while lying naked under her.

“We’ll figure it out, I promise, I just want you Jessie. You’re what I’ve always wanted. It’s always been you.” You begin to feel a bubble of emotion grow in your chest, unable to name it a mix of warmth, familiarity, safety.

You pull her into a kiss, hoping you can portray even a fraction of how you feel about her through your lips.

“You’re all I want, I’m yours if you want me.” You whisper against her lips as you both pull away from the kiss.

“I’m yours.” She replies before your bottom lip is sucked between hers, gently tugging it, instantly bringing back the arousal that had been overshadowed by admiration.

As she releases your bottom lip, Jessie’s lips move, covering inches of skin, your neck, chest, stomach, all while her fingertips slowly drag back down to your legs.

You’re met with her beautiful brown eyes looking up at you when she settles between your legs. Desire and need written all over her face as her eyes silently beg before she uses her words. “Is it okay if I-”

“Please.” More than eager to finally feel her, you spread your legs, inviting Jessie in which she does quickly, moving up so you can suddenly feel her breath on your core. You feel yourself clenching around nothing in anticipation.

You watch intensely as Jessie slowly lowers her mouth, eyes locked firmly with yours, and her tongue makes its first contact with you. Simultaneously a groan comes from both of you, it wasn’t much, a simple pass of her tongue but her first taste of you had Jessie desperate for more. She gave another drag of her tongue from your entrance to your clit. This time the slight flick of her tongue against your nerves has you closing your eyes and tilting your head back into the bed.

“You taste so good.” You hear her whisper. Opening your mouth to respond, you’re interrupted by the moan that escapes instead as Jessie fully commits her mouth to you, tongue and lips covering your pussy, the mixture of suction and pressure from her tongue was blissful.

Still in disbelief that she was here, that you were naked in her bed, that she had said she was yours, you just watch as Jessie works to please you. You relax even more into the bed, letting Jessie take over.

Her eyes closed, eyebrows pinches slightly,

“There.” You breathlessly say, feeling Jessie’s tongue flick against your clit in a way you know will have your legs shaking shortly. “Keep doing that.” It’s no surprise to you when Jessie immediately listens, always one to take coaching well, a quick learner, she doubles down on her movement eyebrows scrunching in focus.

“Fuck Jessie.” Her name comes out in a groan, Jessie responding with a groan of her own at hearing her name come from your lips so sensually. “You’re going to make me cum.”

It’s seconds later that your orgasm washes over you. Jessie’s head is suddenly being squished between your thighs, but that doesn’t stop her. Gently coaxing you through the waves of pleasure Jessie’s tongue and lips continue tracing circles against your clit. When your thighs finally relax, falling apart to the bed, Jessie pulls her mouth off of you, looking up with a grin. “That was so much better than I ever imagined.”

“You’ve imagined it?” A little surprised at the idea of Jessie fantasizing about you, you can’t help but ask.

“Uhhh, I mean,” Jessie’s cheeks tint red as she looks at the painting hung on the wall next to the bed, avoiding eye contact.

“Glad I’m not the only one who did.” You admit, watching as the midfielder visually relaxes. “Come here, let me get that.” You reach a thumb out towards Jessie’s chin, wiping away what remained of your orgasm on her face. Before you can wipe your finger on the bedsheet Jessie grabs your wrist, bringing your thumb to her own mouth. Slowly she runs her tongue across your finger before she briefly sucks off the liquid, softly moaning to herself.

“You taste so good.”

Sitting up you grab Jessie’s face kissing her. Her lips are still just as soft as before only this time you can taste yourself on her as your tongues meet. Leaning forward Jessie is thrown off balance, falling backwards onto her back, you follow laying on top of her. Both of your feet are now at the head of the bed. You kiss her for a few minutes, slowly increasing the intensity, letting your hands roam, pulling at the tied knot on the shorts she was wearing. It takes both hands to finally get the knot undone and your fingers quickly dig into the waistband before you pause to pull away.

As you pull away you watch Jessie starting to nod at you, smile beaming from her face. “Yes, you can take them off.” She says before you even ask. Sitting back you slide the shorts off her legs, taking a moment to admire her in just a bra and panties, everything about her was gorgeous, tastefully toned muscles wrapped in her tanned summer skin. You wanted to touch every inch of her. Instead you pulled away, standing up from the bed.

“Where are you going?” Jessie asks, a confused look on her face.

“Come here.” Kneeling on the floor, your hands reach for Jessie’s thighs as you pull her towards you. She adjusts, and at the same time pulls her bra up and over her head.

“Wouldn’t the bed be more comfortable?”

“Shh, just let me.” You grab under her knees, pulling her even closer to the edge of the bed and closer to you. Your fingers come to the last remaining article of clothing she had on. Pulling them off of her, they join the various other clothing items scattered in her hotel room.

Now bare you grab her legs, putting each one on your shoulder. You can see she’s wet. It takes every bit of restraint and self control to not immediately dive into her. Instead you turn your attention to her thighs, taking your time kissing from her knee to the crease of her leg. The closer you get the more you feel her tense up and when you switch legs, letting your breath run over her core, you notice the way her hips subtly tilt up.

You take a few more minutes kissing along Jessie’s legs, a couple kisses to her hips, along with gentle scratches from your fingers has her impatient, “I didn’t tease you this much.” You finally hear her complain.

Deciding she had suffered enough of your drawn out teasing, you place a hand on each thigh holding her legs open and bring your mouth to where she was dripping for you. Immediately you’re rewarded with the sound of Jessie moaning and her hand on your head holding you tight to her. “Fuck.”

Hearing her make those noises for you, because of you, sends a heat through your stomach. You needed more of her. You lapped at her as if it would be the last chance you ever got to taste her, for all you knew it would be. Determined to commit it all to memory you took in every sound, every whine, groan, breath, every movement she made, how she’d grip your hair tighter when you teased her entrance with your tongue, how her hips rolled slowly in time with your tongue, you wanted to remember it forever.

Abandoning her entrance you move your mouth to focus on her clit, softly sucking while applying firm pressure to her has her breathing harder. Eager to have your hands on her, and to show her why you’d move positions, you bring a hand up between her legs, running your middle and ring finger through her core, pulling them away as they become covered in her slick.

You let your fingertips circle her opening a few times, a flood of cockiness growing in you as you feel her clench around nothing, waiting for your fingers and she whines out, “Please.”

You bite back a laugh at how easily you had her begging before every thought in your mind is erased as you sink a finger into her. Enveloped in her warmth, you can’t think of anything else besides Jessie. Her taste, her noises, how she feels around your finger, it has you wet all over again. You give Jessie a few thrusts before adding your ring finger, her satisfied moans tell you everything you need to know as you continue to slowly but firmly fuck her with your fingers. You curl them inside of her, pulling a whimper of your name.

You wanted to hear that again and again, you never wanted to know what it would be like for someone to moan your name. Only Jessie from now on, only her. The primal instinct to fuck her was only growing inside of you, you began thrusting harder, faster, your tongue working harder, all your efforts being appreciated by Jessie.

The grip of her fingers in your hair was becoming almost painful but Jessie’s words made the sting worth it. “That’s good, that gonna make me cum, fuck.” The breathlessness of her voice, almost hoarse, grew your desire to watch, hear, and feel her cum.

It was minutes later that Jessie’s back arched off the ground, her hips tilting away momentarily before thrusting onto your fingers and mouth. Her head was thrown back but you could see how she harshly bit her bottom lip, doing nothing to silence the noises she made. Just as her thighs closed around your head, you felt the way she was rhythmically clenching around your fingers as you continue to thrust them, helping her through the pleasure.

“Too much.” The hand that had momentarily relaxed in your hair was suddenly pushing you away. Jessie’s legs fall open and when you feel her fully relax you slowly slip your fingers out of her, bringing them to your mouth. Just as you had before you begin placing soft kisses along Jessie’s legs, moving to her abdomen, then her chest, collarbone, up her neck, her cheek and finally placing a kiss on her lips. Her eyes remain closed, as she relaxes on the bed.

“As good as you imagined?” She says, opening one eye to peek at you.

“Way better.” You grin back at her. You climb onto the bed, adjusting the pillows that had been pushed around in your activity. “Come here.” You pat the space next to you and Jessie slowly rolls over and moves to lay next to you. Wrapping your arm around her you pull her in, her head coming to rest on your chest, her arm around your waist.

“So…” You start, your fingers tracing lines and squiggles across the bare skin on Jessie’s back as she laid on your chest. “Did this mean anything?” Jessie lifts her head off your chest, shifting to look at you.

“I mean, it doesn’t mean nothing.”

Tilting her head back down Jessie hide her face as she speaks again. “What does that mean?”

You let out a sigh. You’d just been bare in front of Jessie, maybe now it was time to be naked, to fully tell her. “It means I’ve have feelings, I’ve always had feelings for you, and this made them those feelings much more real, so this didn’t mean nothing to me, this meant a lot to me.”

“Good.” Jessie looks up at you again. “Because this meant a lot to me too. And I don’t know, long distance is a lot, but for you it would be worth every minute.”

“You’d be worth it.” You respond before craning your neck down to kiss her.

The two of you remained in her hotel bed for a bit, relaxing into each other with fleeting touches and soft kisses, until Jessie urges the two of you to get up, claiming you both should pee and wash your hands.

“Not complaining about the Canada logo now, are you?” Jessie smirks at you through the mirror as you wash your face, poking a finger into the sweatshirt of hers you had thrown on.

“Shut up.”

“I mean if you have a problem with it,” she pauses as she comes behind you, fingers playing with the bottom of the fabric. “We can definitely take it off.” Her big brown eyes are practically begging you as she looks up at you.

“Hmm then yes, maybe I don’t want it on anymore.” You pull it off your head as you exit the bathroom. Hearing Jessie quickly follow after you.

“Wait for me!”

[eeboyysworld]

“ Let me be one of your girls tonight! “

—⋆. 𖦹 ࣪⋆.˚

Genre: Smut

Lee Myung-gi (player 333) X Male!Reader

Cautions/Warnings: Thigh job, No penetration but he has a breeding kink, Marijuana, Implied fear of homophobia , Reader is referred to as a ‘girl’ , Feelings (the worse),

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Every motion you made had your vision laggy, everything in slow-motion had you giggling like a schoolgirl.

The smoke filled room was suffocating, but not as much as your pants.Yep, you had popped a stiffy in-front of the boy , you had recently started to crush on.

Like you’re going through puberty all over again..

Flustered with yourself, guilt swept inside you mixed with guilty pleasure. Eyes keen on watching the other’s fingers skillfully wrapping a joint, tongue coming out to seal it.

His face wore bruises, having been getting on everyone’s nerves ( not yours ) hands scattered with small cuts.

‘What a man..’ maybe you had said the last part out-loud in a hushed whisper, as he looked back up at you.

Questioning, “ You said what?-“ making your face even redder, coughing into your palm muttering ‘nothing..’ shoving your rolled up hoodie on-top your shorts. Getting rid of the evidence.

The dizziness inside you only grew bigger as you leaned into him, your chest on the others clothed back, the heaviness of your whole head had you resting on his shoulder.

Watching the man put the joint to his lips, “Light?” Easily reaching into your pants, fingers grazing each other as you handed it over.

The spark emitting both of your faces, smoke wafting upwards , successfully hot-boxing you guys even more.

Conversation rolled on as time passed, jumping topic to topic, until the question of girls popped up. The question leaving you dazed, worry wavering off of you.

“You a virgin?” The accusation was like a slap to your face, staring dumbfounded .Do you really look that much of a loser.

You weren’t a virgin.At-least.. not with boys. With girls ..oh ye, you were a total virgin.

You couldn’t say that though.

“No..i-i been with women..” a complete lie.If that wasn’t the least obvious sign that you were, in-fact, clueless to girls.

He didn’t say anything at that,just laughed at your red face, the giggles coming out in Huffs.

It only went on for a few seconds before it got quiet. The silence was relaxing, even though you felt nervous.

The other just layed there, man spreading across the sofa. You two were rather close, fingers an inch away from each other.

He observed you, eyes red clouded with curiosity. Hidden with something else ,you couldn’t pin point.

“You swing the other way?” You froze, mouth suddenly dry. Were you guys close enough to be talking about whose dick was in what hole..

Maybe not, you were both guys in college so anything is possible at this point.

You couldn’t wiggle your way out of this one. Left with no choice but to answer.”Was it that obvious..”

To your surprise he only chuckled, tilting his head backwards. He was all relaxed, nonchalant. You were the complete opposite.Body as stiff as your dick, thoughts running through you like a train.

It was quiet for a bit, the soft humming of the a.c in the background, radio playing a soft tune being the only noise.

For a while the other just kept on staring, his sharp gaze laid heavy, melting your body further into the molds of cushion.

Suddenly, a confident hand rested on your thigh. The contact made your skin tingle.

Confusion sparked your face, the closeness of his body against yours was enough damage.But now, he’s touching you, especially so close to your dick!

Are you in heaven.

“What are you doing..?” The room seemed more stuffy, your question hung in the air, left to be unanswered.

The shorts you wore began to ride up as the other gripped the flesh, leaving the skin irritated.

Agonizingly trailing upwards, the pads of his fingers smooshing together. You made no move to stop the lingering touches.

“These would look good wrapped around me.” The man practically gawked at your bare skin, groping the flush skin impossibly harder.

Speechless at such a confession, you spoke no word, afraid you would straight up start moaning, or say something you would regret.

Taking notice of no response, he stopped, hesitantly moving his hand away. The lack of touch left you pouting.

“Why’d you stop..” The other watched you complain before sitting himself up, grabbing your own hand.

“Do you want me to keep going?” It looked like he was questioning himself, you could practically explain 333 reasons on why he should keep going. Nodding frantically, “Please..” pleading him with your head tilted, eyes wide and desperate for touch.

The two of you only observed each other, drinking in the sight. Your eyes taking hold of his lips, trailing back upwards to the clouded gaze.

Things escalated quickly from there.

His hands found your waist, the tension was thick, the two of you fumbling into each other’s hold, shy little pecks on the lips.

He was unsure what to do.. he never been with another man.

But you came along, with your long lashes and plush lips begging to be plucked. Forbidden fruit, that he has his hands on.

The taste of sweetness mixed with bitterness enhanced his senses, becoming high on you rather than the weed.

Slow and steady kisses went on to greedy nips, concealing needy moans.

The position was awkward, forcing you to pull away, tiny gasps for breathe. Sensing your discomfort, he gently guided you to lay down, back hitting the comfort of soft blankets.

Positioning himself in a more conventional way.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him into a heated kiss, his stomach just an inch away from your clothed hard one, the tiny friction making you jolt.

Before things get too serious, you called out his name, “Myung-gi.. “ the latter paused , glancing at you. “Have you done this before..”

He hadn’t. Shaking his head side to side, confirming your suspicions.

It was cute, the way he became so flustered after being all confident.

Smiling, reassuring him that you’ll take it slow. It wasn’t like you haven’t been with other clueless men looking to expand their horizons.

Taking the lead in this situation, sitting yourself on-top your elbows, licking your lips as habit.

No longer shy as you groped him through his joggers, the thin material folding against the force, outlining the length.

Tiny huffs heard above you, maintaining eye contact, teasing the other.

“Just-t..stop teasing..” a grin masked your lips, admiring your work of undoing.

His v- line prominent, a slightly visible stain soaked into the grey material, dick twitching from lack of contact.

Pulling away, hooking fingers under the bands of your shorts, slowly pulling them off. He could only watch in anticipation.

The fabric pooled around your ankle, bringing your leg up so the other could yank it off.

He’d seen naked men before , not by his own choice..years of being in locker rooms of high school boys.

You were different, captivating him the moment you waltzed into the room, energy radiating off of you like warm rays.

You were more pretty than a girl to him.

It was innocent admiration at first , but then the summer heat wave got to you, therefore the shorts you wore became shorter and shorter, showing off the plump skin.

Shirts becoming tighter or looser. Both were hell and heaven for him.

It wasn’t long before his imagination got to him, dazing off into the distance.

Greedily taking in any sight that behold you.

He hadn’t made a move until this night , the night you two were gonna relax from all the exams and studying you had. Relax away from money problems.

The high must of made him way too confident.

His hand tracing your hip bones, leaving you ticklish and giddy, sensitive to the touch. Sweat from the heat glistened on your skin, he wanted your body littered with his bites.

Once again , pulling yourself up, hooking into his pants before yanking the whole thing down.

Free from restrictions, tip glow an angry pink, pre-cum pooling down.

Unsure of what to do, the other just sat there on his knees, the cushion stabbing into him.

“Just relax..I’ll take care of you.” The kind words were rather funny considering you held his dick in your hand.

Smiling sweetly, before spitting on his length. You haven’t even started yet and he could paint your face white right there.

taking control of the situation, you guided him towards your thighs, which were slightly open for him to continue.

The need to release was heavy, the urge to grab you and hold you down was overwhelming.

So that’s what he did.

The shyness wore off as it was replaced with hunger.

Slipping himself through your inner thighs, forcefully shutting your legs together. Warmness greeted him, his hips stuttered a bit.

It wasn’t enough for him, taking it upon himself to spit onto the curves of your skin.

The wetness created more accessibility. Sliding in and out, soft thrusts turned into harshness.

Each time he kept hitting your own length, the stimulation made you desperately arch into air, searching for your release.

Bringing your leg upwards, he began to bite down creating bite marks, littering your skin.

Sucking into the flesh , muttering “- Been thinking about just biting into you like this-“ the suction urged you on to sobs, your sensitive spot being used agian and again.

The room smelt of pure sex, the smoke lingering the halls, the soft tune no longer heard among the cries.

“M-much.. better than - any girl I’ve had.” Hoisting your legs into the air before leaning downwards to hold your legs to your chest, smooshing your thighs together.

The added pressure spiralled him on, blabbering about having his kid, being his house-wife ..it was nonsense and ridiculous , yet you found yourself yearning for it.

Your voice echoed on , begging to have his baby. Clenching your thighs , trapping him so he wouldn’t pull out, ( he wasn’t gonna)

The sound of wetness could be heard, as he stammered into your hold , thrusts becoming jerkily.

Cum splattering onto your stomach and chest, the shirt nearly off your neck. Continuing to buck into you, chasing his high , as his body became limp.

Cooling off before hovering over you .

Lifting your legs apart, the sticky cream attaching itself thigh to thigh, deliciously dripping down the back of your legs.

He could pop another boner at such sight.

Clearing his throat, eyeing the bite marks he made, the marks red contrast to your skin.

“Wanna go again?”

Fuck the studies. You would fail happily after this night.

———

Need more posts of him🫡🫡

[ukulelegodparent]

I mean, fascism is primarily derived from the Italian word fascio which was a term used for various workers' rights groups in 19th century Italy and was later co-opted by Mussolini in another classic fascist move: using leftist language to trick people into following them. Fascio does originally come from Latin Fasce but it seems to me like that was more a coincidence/correlation than anything else. It seems to me like it's mostly just that the Italian fascist party were the ones that coined the term that everyone uses for the ideology. And of course that term does have origins in Latin BC it's based on a native Italian word which all derive from Latin.

It could of course be that THEY later changed doctrine to say that that is totally from Latin and not from a term mostly associated with communists and workers' unions. Or they used that explanation to appeal more to rich donors and the other one to appeal to workers in a similar move to what the NSDAP did, stressing 'Nationalist' and 'German party' in front of middle and upper class audiences but focusing on 'Socialist' and 'workers' party' when the audience was lower class.

Which is not to say that these people didn't have a weird obsession with the Roman Empire. They did. Especially the fascist party in Italy but the Nazi party in Germany did too. Europe and whiteness as concepts were at this point engrained enough in the minds of Europeans with lore and everything that Ancient Greece and the Roman Empire were really anyone's game (this was also through various nationalist movements. ESPECIALLY the Greek nationalist movement really did a lot to cement Ancient Greece as a predecessor of modern Europe (and by extension the Roman Empire) to secure support in courts around Europe for their fight against the Ottoman Empire. And boy were they hard at work we got an entire architecture style and art movement out of it)

The nazi salute btw also was adapted from Italian fascists who did call it the Roman Salute, but I don't think I've ever heard anyone refer to it as anything other than 'Hitlergruß' (Hitler salute) or 'Deutscher Gruß' (German salute, this one basically only appears in primary sources/in specific other cases where the term 'Hitlergruß' wouldn't be accurate BC Hitler wasn't really in the picture yet although in those cases the gesture is generally not part of the salute at all) in the context of the Nazis. When it was introduced in the NSDAP it even came with the explanation that a) it was totally super not adopted from the Italian fascists BC its use in the NSDAP supposedly already started in 1921 (which is about when the Italian fascist party started doing it as well) and b) even if it was adopted from them (which it's totally not trust me bro) it's totally 100% fine, don't worry about it. Because while the Nazis were obsessed with the Roman Empire it was also considered not German and therefore bad so a lot of things that came into Nazi doctrine via Mussolini's party were first washed in a puddle of weird almost neo-pagan 'Germanic' stuff along with a bit of weird new age medicine because this is deeply intense nationalism and the name of the game is 'you cannot ever under any circumstance admit that any other ethnic group/nation/'people' has ever done anything good enough for your 'people' to adopt it.'

Just in case anyone needs a history lesson:

The nazi salute IS the roman salute. Because. They specifically chose to use... the roman salute. To invoke the grandiose and history of the roman empire. Like. That was a specific choice they made when they were creating their empire. They didn't call it a nazi salute. THE NAZIS CALLED IT A ROMAN SALUTE.

They did not happen to create a salute that looks identical. They said "we like the roman salute because the romans created the idea of fascism, so we are going to use it." Fascism, if you didn't know, is derived from the ROMAN word for a symbol called the Fasces. It represents the ultimate power of a single leader over their subjects! I wonder why that would be really appealing for them as a symbol!

They were ALSO taking a little inspiration from us, Americans, because we were also using it in the early part of the 1900s!

Because Americans ALSO liked the whole "connection to the roman empire" part! If you think white people NOW have a boner for the roman empire, you should have seen them a century ago!

Americans, understandably, stopped using it, because we got in a war with the only other people who were using it more than we were and were creating some real fucked-up associations with it: THE NAZIS.

[nayeonara]

could you do a thanos squid game fic, where the reader dislikes him/rejects him: but he's so delusional - convinced she's just playing hard to get

HARD TO GET ! ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

pairings: thanos / choi su-bong x fem!reader

summary: where rejection just simply seems to fuel his delusions into believing you’re playing hard to get.

CW: kissing, thanos being thanos, the word ‘señorita’ used several times.

word count: 0.8K

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

The air is thick with tension as you stand among the crowd, heart pounding in sync with the eerie lullaby playing over the speakers. The massive mechanical doll at the far end of the field turns its head with a slow, deliberate click, its eyes scanning for the slightest movement. You barely have time to process the rules of the game when a towering presence shifts beside you, a tall man who appeared to be an ex-rapper considering his unique purple hair. He looks down at you with a wide smirk on his face “be careful señorita, you’ll end up dead if move a single muscle” he laughs at you. You draw back as you hear him refer to you as señorita.

However, he had supported you throughout the deadly game despite taking his pills. You still disliked him though, seeming as he was crazed and would constantly harass innocent people. Although to Thanos, this was a way of showing off his strength and dominance. “Say señorita, we would make an awesome couple ya know” He says with cockiness in his voice that was undeniably aggravating. “I dont think so” You try to laugh off in order to still be polite even though you meant every single word. “Why not?” He responds with confusion as if you’ve just rejected the most handsome prize you could get in there despite the money. “I.. just don’t really.. see you that way” You tried to say it lighthearted, because you knew what Thanos was capable of. And you really didn’t want to be on his bad side.

He chuckles. “Ah i understand now. You’re just playing hard to get with me” He says with confidence. “But don’t you worry señorita, i’ll break your wall down with ease” He delusionaly walks away, plotting his future advances so that he would make you his girl. You’re tense after that, knowing he wouldn’t put a stop to his nonstop flirting. You try your hardest to push past your thoughts as you eventually succumb to a somewhat peaceful slumber in those tacky old beds the organisers of the game supplied you all with.

It had been a day now, your team and thanos just survived the six-legged race game, which left you paranoid as he was just messing around the full time, not caring that your lives were put at stake. This angered you alot more now, you were about done with his foolish acts and excused yourself to the team to leave for the bathrooms to calm yourself down. Thanos saw this as a gold opportunity to try and win over your ‘hard to get’ act, as he was so convinced you were crazy about him. He also excused himself and sneakily followed you towards the female bathrooms. You stand beside the sink, washing your face with the ice-cold water until you hear an opening of the door. At first you had just assumed it would be another female wanting to use the restroom, but thats when you hear it. His deep and playful voice calling out your name.

“Thanos, what the hell are you doing he-“ He cuts off your whisper shouting as he muffles your voice with one of his strong hands. “Chill out señorita, we finally have time for ourselves yeah?” He asked as if it was some casual thing between us. you look up at him nervously, afraid of what he would do. He locks eyes with you for a moment then looks down towards your heart-shaped lips. He leans over in one swift motion, pressing his rough lips against your soft ones. You wanted him to stop, you wanted to tell him that he was wrong about you. That you didn’t feel anything towards him. Although you would be lying to yourself if you said that his lips smashed against yours didn’t feel good.

As he continued to press down on you, he began tracing his hands around your body, you felt yourself slowly giving in to the passionate kiss. Although it started getting rougher by the second and you felt like you were getting weaker through his touch. He pulls away for a minute, “Come on, you cant deny you like this, that you like me, my señorita” He grins before quickly reconnecting your lips. Now it was you who pulled away, “What makes you so sure of that?” He just stares at you for a good couple seconds, “You say you dont like me but your body seems to speak for itself baby” And he was right. Even though you didn’t like him, your body was so rapid to give in to him. You felt yourself get so confused with your own emotions within this moment. “Doesn’t mean i like you though” you spoke through gritted teeth. “Sure you don’t” He smugly said before leaving you unaccompanied in the bathroom.

You were now just stood there, drowning in many thoughts and wondering how you were gonna get thanos to leave you alone now that you humiliated yourself, by actually somehow enjoying the encounter you both shared.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

authors note: thank you for the request! im so sorry that its a bit short 😭 i think i made him a bit ooc.. but oh well

[pencil-n-pen]

hii! i hope you are doing well. i love your overworked series so much. it's very relatable to me on what the circumstances the reader is in and all i do eat the series all up(munch munch) how about like a study date for them? that would be cute

Hello honey !! Thank you so much for this request, I was so excited to write it <3 Hope you enjoy!

STUDY OR DATE

⠂⠄⠄⠂���⠁⠂⠄ ౨ৎ ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠄⠂

summary: you ask Leon to go on a study date with you at a coffee shop. Things don’t go as planned, but work out just fine in the end.

cw: i think this qualifies as a drabble not a oneshot it’s short :( but sweet :) sorry some angst slipped in there, one of Leon’s ex friends says some kind of mean things about you but Leon comes to your defense, honestly that’s it this is pretty fluffy

a/n: i just know leon absolutley slams those frou frou coffee drinks. i say this as a frou frou coffee drink enjoyer

no the Baby I'm Yours reference was not intentional

masterlist | previous (not actually a SERIES series, just takes place in the same universe)

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

It was you who proposed the idea of a study date.

"I think it might be nice," You'd said, staring at your shoes and shuffling in place as people file out of the last class of your day- the one you share with Leon. "I usually study by myself, but I think it would be good to... get out of my room, for a bit. Um. And then we could study together?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

This is one of his current favorite sentences. "Training you to stand your ground, princess. Nothing bad is gonna happen when you do."

You squeeze the strap of your backpack. "Telling...? But also asking, because I don't know if you're free."

"Even if I did have plans I would cancel them. Where were thinking of going?"

A burst of heat rises to your face. "That cafe? Near the east side of campus?"

He leans down, giving you a quick peck on the nose. "I think that's a great idea."

The walk to the cozy cafe isn't too long, but it is cold. You shamelessly use the winter chill as an excuse to cuddle up to Leon.

"As if you need one," He mumbles, squeezing you close to him.

When you arrive to the shop, the bell dinging signifying your entrance, Leon tugs at the backpack on your shoulder.

"Gimme that. I'll snag us a table that has outlets. Order something for me?"

You don’t have to look to know the hand in front of you has his credit card in it. And you know better than to refuse. He likes spending money on you, for whatever reason. You’re not complaining, really, it just eats at you a little bit. Just a little.

But it’s also really, really, really sweet. The kindness tends to override the guilt, in his case.

For yourself, you order exactly what you want- Leon has a second sense for when you order something that's for the sake of preserving money rather than what you actually want. You'd asked him once where his seemingly never-ending supply of money came from, but he'd just kissed you on the forehead and told you not to worry about it. You kind of still worry about it, but never enough for him to notice.

For Leon, you order exactly what he wants but will never admit to liking- an iced caramel macchiato. The way coffee shops like Starbucks make them, not the traditional way. More milk and sugar than coffee. It's funny watching him slug his way through black coffee with a splash of milk when you know for a fact the milky, sugary coffee drinks never last longer than about five minutes when they're in front of him.

The cafe isn't that crowded, so it doesn't take long for your drinks to be ready. You take them from the bar with a thanks, then slide into the table Leon snagged for you.

His eyes catch on the drink.

"What is that?"

"An iced caramel macchiato."

"And why, exactly, did you order that for me?"

"Because you like them."

"No I-"

"Don't even pretend."

He takes the drink with a grumble, but reaches across the table and squeezes your hand once, a quiet thank you.

You take a sip of your own drink, then take your supplies out of your backpack and get to work.

You work fairly quietly, Leon occasionally sliding random snacks he, apparently, just keeps with him across the table to you. At one point, he gets up and returns with a plate that has a few of the pastries you were eyeing earlier on it. How he even knew exactly which ones you wanted is a mystery to you.

An hour or so after he gets the pastries, the bell dings, signifying someone's entrance.

"No way! Leon, is that you?"

Leon's face twists into something sour and angry, and a small stab of apprehension slices through your chest as the voice is accompanied by approaching feet.

"Josh," Leon says evenly, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. "Haven't seen you in awhile. On purpose."

You turn, eyeing the man that's standing behind you, a few other guys standing a little ways behind him, all leering for a glance.

The Josh in question just laughs. "Oh, whatever Leon," His gaze catches on your face and his eyes widen.

"No way. Are you seriously here with the pretentious--"

"You mean my girlfriend?" Leon leans forward in his seat, his jaw set and his fists clenched where they rest on the table. "Be very careful about your next words."

Girlfriend?

Josh blinks. "I meant nothing by it, man. I'm just surprised to see you here with her, is all."

Leon looks absolutely murderous. "And why would that be?"

"Just because, you know. We always talked about how annoying her attitude was. And that rivalry thing you guys had."

"I remember ditching you guys when you started ragging on her, yeah. Fuck off, Josh."

Josh raises his hands. "Jeez, okay man. I was just surprised. You're seriously choosing that girl over us?"

"This woman, yes. We were never friends like that. Forgive me if I prefer being with someone who doesn't make me consider the legality of finishing a college degree in prison."

Josh seems upset by Leon's statement, but Leon holds his ground. He jerks his head towards the rest of the gaggle. "Go."

Josh scampers away, metaphorical tail between his legs.

Leon immediately turns to you, brows furrowed in concern and body un-tensing. "Are you okay? Did he upset you? Do I need to kill him?"

You blurt out the first and only thing you got from that entire exchange.

"I'm your girlfriend?"

He re-tenses.

"Do you... not want to be?"

"No!" You shout, a little too loudly, because Josh and his friends look back over, but the ensuing glare from you and Leon is enough for them to look away so quickly you think you hear Josh’s neck pop.

"No," you say quietly, "I um. I'd really like to be your girlfriend. I just. I didn't know what we were."

He gets that fond look in his eyes again. The one he gets before he says something sappy.

"Baby," He says, reaching across the table and grabbing your hand. "I"m yours. I mean that. I didn't formally ask you out because I figured you wanted to take things slow."

"I did. At first."

He smiles. "Then princess, my princess, may I please be your boyfriend?"

You can't help the giddy giggle the escapes your mouth. "Yes."

"Oh thank god," He says, wiping fake sweat off his brow. "It would've been awkward to have a heart attack and die in this cafe."

"That seems a bit extreme."

"Not really. Have you seen my girlfriend? Cardiac events are a normal reaction, I assure you."

You don't get much studying done for the rest of the day.

--

After that, there is a noticeable increase in study dates and date-dates. Leon is weirdly good at picking date spots and ideas.

The first time he introduces you as his girlfriend at a party, Ada shouts so loudly you think she might burst someone's eardrum. Your roommates all squeal with excitement when you tell them.

Chris, being Chris, says "Weren't you already dating?" when Leon tells him the news. That seems to be the general consensus.

You're on another study date right now, Leon's face doing that cute little scrunch thing when he's thinking about a math problem, and you set your pencil down just to stare at him.

He's your boyfriend.

You're his girlfriend.

He looks up at you, chewing on the end of his pencil. "What? Do I have something on my face?"

"No," You say, a little breathless. "M' just looking at my boyfriend."

He grins, leaning across the table to give you a kiss, soft and slow.

You're normally not one for PDA.

But maybe you'll allow it. For your boyfriend.

ᯓ✦

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

Girl I have so many questions about your story it’s actually ridiculous!

(I don’t want to overwhelm you though so imma hold back)

is reader becoming a snake person a reference to snakes preying on bats and birds?( and will the snake being joker’s be important?)

Is Tiffany going to have to put effort into pretending she’s the ✨perfect sister✨ now that reader obviously isn’t going to do jack for them anymore? (Because ungrateful families don’t deserve muffins 😒)

Is reader going to be a hero or villain, or maybe something in between?

will we be able to get an idea of why the batfam treats reader like they’re some sort of pest?( you’d think they’d be more careful since reader could easily expose their identities if they thought about it 😒😒)

and finally.

Tim had a very…different…reaction to reader ‘framing’ Tiffany- is that important?

-🚚

yay ok this is my first like real ask! Yall have been making me so so happy with all the love! It really encourages me! And don't worry about overwhelming me! I can take it :) i'm answering this and then signing off to go to bed because I have the worst flu ever.

Ok so yes! Reader becoming a snake-meta-person does have to do with snakes preying on birds, honestly that was a little easter egg for funsies. Im glad you caught it! reader's gonna eat those hoes up !!!!!!! ( and they'll lock her up right after)

Tiffany will for sure try to imitate reader at first but that will eventually lead to her downfall! she can only keep it up for 6 months and then she'll be discovered. she can't imitate the genuine love and care reader puts into these things so they'll always be off no matter how much she tries. the batfam will end up realizing what they lost and do whatever it takes to get it back.

And yes, the snake being the Joker's will be important bc he's the joker and is so fucking insane that even his snake has to be special! all powers have consequences and these will be heavy. it will put reader through it, but will really shape them as a person.

Im leaning more toward reader being a hero??? but with the snake being literally radioactive it might be a kinda venom dynamic. im still not too sure tbh. with all the angst and neglect and the troubles of being a teen, she might be a bit of an anti-hero! she might pull a jason (ironic, i know) and go around killing all the villians!

the thing about the batfam, is that they don't even realize what they're doing to the reader. they literally see her as irrelevant so they don't notice their neglect or how much it affects reader. she's not even on their minds enough to be perceived as a threat. the only ones purposefully being mean are Damian and Jason, Damian because he sees reader as less than/ a threat and Jason because he is trying to push the reader out his life and not 'taint' her innocence.

Tim's reaction is different because he's suspicious. he thinks he would've noticed if reader was capable of doing something so sneaky and underhanded. he's the only one who is suspicious because he simply doesn't think she's smart enough to do this. he's gonna be the first to see Tiff's true colors.

Goodnight yall!!! i'll be back tmrw morning! keep sending more asks! I take requests so if you have any ideas you want me to write just send them in! I'll yandere platonic or romanitc. SEND THEM IN!!!!!!!!

[sammyluvr]

✶ blabbermouth — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, talkative!reader, hurt/comfort, insecurity, unedited, 845 words. requested ! for my 900 followers event [ closed ] .

prompt : under a street lamp + “i’m right here, you know. i’m right here.”

sam pulls you to stand up with both hands. you’re not really sure why, and don’t notice that he’s pulled you under the orange light of a street lamp. he’d found you sitting on the curb in the dark, in the chilly almost-autumn air. and you haven’t gone far from the motel, but he’d still been worried when he got to the room and you weren’t there. he gets paranoid sometimes; he had burst out the front door. he nearly ran down the street until he saw your silhouette hunched over in a patch of darkness.

at first, he sat with you, but he hates not being able to see your face very well, so he gently pulls you up and into the light. it casts your face in warmth, and you look a little teary. he expected it, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t send a pang through his chest. so before asking what’s wrong, he pulls you into a soft hug. you melt into him, but your shoulders retain some of their tension.

he parts, though his hands linger for a moment. “what is it?” he asks quietly. the bare skin of your arms are a bit cold to the touch. “you cold?”

you shake your head, “the wind is nice,” is all you can manage, followed but a stretch of quiet. a car rolls past, no music or voices floating out of the cracked window. there’s just the sound of tires on the road as your eyes leave him to follow its movement until you can’t crane your neck any further. then you’re forced to look back at him, knowing you haven’t answered his first question.

“sam… do i talk too much?” you ask, voice quiet for once and undeniably insecure. you hate the way it sounds, but you can’t bear to take up much space right now.

“mm?” he almost calls you babe, but catches himself at the last moment, “what are you talking about? of course you don’t. you don’t talk too much at all.”

you’re not convinced, unfortunately. he knows so by the way you don’t meet his eyes. “i just feel like… i feel like people get annoyed. and– dammit,” you curse under your breath, probably the only one bothered by your apparent inability to keep your mouth shut. you have this silly urge to come across as composed, maybe even a little mysterious for a bit of intrigue. but it never works, and you’re just always talking. even now, you can’t stop yourself from telling sam exactly what you’re feeling. “and– and sometimes it makes me worried that people won’t want to be around me because of it. i mean, no one likes a blabbermouth. even now i can’t seem to shut up.” your voice grows frustrated, almost aggressive at yourself. you wish you could keep it down, but you can’t even manage that.

“hey,” he quickly interrupts before you can say anything else self-deprecating, “don’t say that,” he says firmly, tilting his head to try and get you to look at him. “you’re not a blabbermouth, alright? and there’s nothing wrong with talking a lot. no one wants you to shut up, so don’t say that.”

“dean does,” you mutter bitterly. his hand twitches, as if trying to seek out yours to hold it tight. he frowns, so you explain, “dean gets annoyed. i know that he thinks i talk too much sometimes.”

“it doesn’t matter what dean thinks,” sam insists, “he’s an ass, you know that. doesn’t mean he wants you to stop talking.” he doesn’t even like saying the words ‘shut up’ in reference to you.

you frown back at him. “it matters to me,” you stress, “and what about bobby? and–”

he cuts you off with another gentle, imploring, “hey. i’m right here, you know. i’m right here.” that finally gets you to look him in the eye. you’re looking at him like you’re not sure what he means, but that you’re hoping for something. so he keeps going. “doesn’t it matter what i think about it?” he asks at a murmur, “i like how much you talk. i like– i like to listen to you. i don’t want you to stop. you could never annoy me and you could never do anything to make me not want to be around you.”

you eyes widen at his words. why does he have to say it like that? like he loves you, maybe. not just like he thinks you’re a great friend, and he wants to comfort and reassure you because of that. you struggle to respond. 

he notices and his hand drifts up towards your face, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheekbone. “okay?” he murmurs.

to that, you can nod, the movement a bit halting and your eyes still teary. it means a lot to hear those words, but it means everything to hear them from him. “okay,” you whisper back.

“good.” he pulls you back into his arms, and presses a gentle, but firm kiss to the side of your head.

[sporadicallyanenthusiast]

First of all, let me just thank you for taking the time to explain all of these points! There were many contexts here I didn't know about and it helps make more sense of the story! So thank you so much ❤️

And the thing about Ancient Greek and color is really fascinating! Kudos to the people that first began translating the ancient texts, because oh boy! Hahaha @mari--lace also mentioned in the replies how it is not a consensus on Athena's eye color either. I've only ever heard about the "wine colored sea" point, but never had the thought to dig deeper and learn more. I am definitely going to change that hahaha There are so many interesting things to learn, no wonder so many scientists have been studying the topic for centuries.

I'll have to admit, our poor Menelaus really did suffer a lot, dear Gods. Since my first contact with him was through the Odyssey and some fandom posts, sometimes I forget Agamemnon was his brother. And yes, as much as he loved Odysseus, learning about your brother's death like that can't be easy to digest. And the timeline of how long he stayed shipwrecked was a little fuzzy to me, so it makes sense that after 7 years, his memory would be hazy! I see what you mean when you refer to it as a vision/dream now. I didn't know Aegisthus had them exiled either, so that definitely adds even another layer to the hell Menelaus' life was at that time! We talk so much about Odysseus' hardships, but oh my, poor Mene didn't catch a break either, I'm appalled 😰 I have yet to wrap my mind around the fact the the poems were supposed to be performed out loud as well. A lot of the narrative choices make way more sense when you remember that, it's not just a regular book. I suppose that is why some things sound jarring when you read it for the first time.

And yes! Oh my, I never thought the texts would be so expressive and so warm, you know? We tend to have this idea that people from different times were too cold and distant, but they were still human at the end of the day. Of course they'd be affectionate to the ones they loved! And to be honest, it reminds me of when I read Sherlock Holmes for the first time. It really caught me by surprise how Sherlock and Watson were described and how they talked about each other in such a loving way. I don't know when we stopped writing platonic relationships so beautifully like that, but it truly is a loss to modern literature, in my humble opinion.

And I had no idea about Odysseus' own prophecy! I did know he tried to avoid going to war, but I just assumed it was because he had a newborn son and wanted to be there for Penelope. In that scenario, it really is fair to point out Menelaus trying to warn them wouldn't change much. On that note, Athena herself also told Telemachus Odysseus was alive and he didn't believe her, the Wisdom Goddess hahaha I hadn't thought about that before, but it really does illustrate how hopeless all of them were. If Telemachus didn't believe Athena, you're right, he wouldn't really care about Menelaus' letter either.

I knew about the law of Xenia, so I assumed that was the only reason stopping them from sending the suitors away. I admit I was a tad bit confused why Telemachus didn't force the suitors to leave once he outright had Athena's and Zeus' blessing, so your explanation really helped me make sense of everything!

It's such a nice and sweet detail to have Telemachus and Odysseus going through their journeys at the same time (Telemachus' first journey and Odysseus' last journey, even!), only to meet again at home and taking back control of their palace together. Maybe I teared up a bit, can't deny nor confirm hahahahaha

You are still way more knowledgeable on the topic, and your academic background gives a perspective other people might not have. So I think it's fair to call you as such 🥰❤️

Oh, I see! Sorry, I'm a bit too anxious at times and end up worrying too much that I gave the wrong impression or was rude by accident hahaha

This has been a lovely discussion indeed! Once again, thank you so much for being so kind to explain everything, I'll definitely be reading the books with new perspectives and insights!

Telemachus is so much stronger than me for real. Cause if I had traveled for days, by sea AND land, arrived at the palace of my father's friend and my mother's cousin to humbly ask if they know anything about my missing father and instead of just fucking telling me already, this mf started a monologue about how gay he is for my dad and about the time he captured a God that granted him wishes three, I'd already be telling him to Hurry The Fuck Up. IT'S BEEN TEN YEARS, I DON'T HAVE ALL DAY.

But if the same motherfucker then turned around and told me that he had known FOR YEARS NOW that my dad is trapped on an island AND THE MOTHERFUCKER DIDN'T TELL ANYONE!!!! NOT A SINGLE LETTER!!! I would have already strangled Menelaus with that fucking blond hair of his in front of his wife and children, unhelpful son of a bitch.

[mewvore]

When you started transitioning, did you ever have an issue with accidentally referring to yourself with masculine pronouns in your thoughts? I've been trying to think of myself as agender, but I keep calling myself a man or using other masculine terms when I'm in thought. I dunno if it's because it's kinda hard to present as agender so I think of myself as how I present, but it's starting to bother me.

Well in the grand scheme of things pronouns are kinda vibes based really so you shouldn't worry too much. Thinking to yourself that you're the king of the world or dat boi when you don't consider yourself any particular gender isn't indicative of some subconscious rejection of your being, if thats what you're worrying about. Its just a harmless habit you can attempt to shake eventually.

I do sometimes think of myself in masculine terms but its not an issue personally, mostly because thoughts are generally inconsequential and I'm not exactly of the belief that a total eradication of masculinity in every single aspect is prerequisitional to achieve femininity

[finelinevogue]

safe with me

summary - you say 'yes' to being intimate with azriel when you really mean ‘no', because your past relationship taught you that saying 'yes' is the only answer

word count - 1.2k

pairing - azriel x mate!reader

[ reference to past abusive relationship - read with care 🤎 ]

It was the dark of night.

Everyone was in bed except you and Azriel, because you'd both lost track of time staying up and talking about everything and nothing. It was a habit you were both readily guilty of. Neither of you cared, though, when your conversations only made the bond stronger.

Azriel held the bedroom door open for you as you walked through first.

"Do you have training in the morning?" You asked him, walking over to your side of the bed.

You picked up the small tin of body cream there, scooping some up so you could apply it to your hands. It smelt of roses and reminded you of the endless walks through the garden you'd had with Azriel over the years.

"I do, yes. Cassian wants to show the priestesses some new defence techniques. He asked me to help him demonstrate."

Azriel locked the bedroom door and rounded the opposite side of the bed to you - his side, you both now called it.

You watched intensely as he lifted his black shirt over his head.

His muscles stretched and rippled as his body moved. His arms lengthened and the veins popped as he lifted his hands above his head.

You swallowed your desire as you admired him.

Due to Azriel's slight compulsive tendencies, he couldn't just throw his shirt on the floor. Instead, he neatly folded it and placed it on the dressing table.

You don't know what was more attractive; Azriel stripping down or Azirel being neat and tidy.

"It's rude to stare, you know?" He teased you as he came back to bed, lifting the covers to slip underneath.

"I wasn't staring." You blushed.

"Tell that to your cheeks."

You smiled to yourself as you stood up to untuck the covers on your side of the bed, before slipping in beside your mate.

The moment you were laid down Azriel attacked you with a flurry of kisses - probably the sweetest type of attack you could endure.

His lips kissed your cheeks repeatedly, making you laugh out loud from the suddenness of it all. You tried to move away and turn a cheek, but he was too insistent on loving you to notice.

He did notice, however, when your laugh started to fade away as he continued to kiss from your cheek to your neck.

Your mind was spinning a million miles an hour, trying to figure out how you were feeling and if you wanted this innocent kissing to turn into something more intimate. The fact that you were hesitating was enough for you to mentally agree that you didn't want to do anything this evening, but conveying that to your mate was an entire different thing.

"Okay?" He asked, slowly kissing over the sweet spot on your neck that normally got you going.

Unfortunately your mind was being cruel.

Instead of being here and in the room with Az, you had been transported back to the same situation with an ex-male of yours. He had initiated an evening much like Azriel was doing, but he knew you weren't particularly feeling it. Instead of accepting your answer of 'no', he had convinced you that you were "just confused" and "this is something you actually want" and to "just say yes".

You hadn't wanted to say yes at all.

But your ex had been so good at manipulating you that he had eventually gotten what he wanted without making it seem non-consensual.

Azriel, being ever so perceptive, could tell you were caving in on yourself, as well as feeling your heartbeat quicken and his shadows picked up on your hesitance and nervous energy. All of it together sent Azriel major red alarms.

"Hey, sweetheart, hey?"

Azriel's face was hovering above yours now, nowhere near your neck but you hadn't even realised he had moved away.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

You looked in his eyes and saw their concern. You didn't want to worry him. This is something that Azriel wants and that should be enough, right?

"Mhm."

You couldn't convince yourself to say the word 'yes' out loud. You couldn't do that to yourself again.

Azriel's hand cupped your cheek so softly you thought you were made out of porcelain. He looked through you before he spoke - his shadows enclosing around you so that you could just focus on each other and nothing else.

"Sweetheart, you're allowed to say no. You know that."

You blinked a few times as if that would help register what he'd just said.

"But..." You stuttered, "But you want to."

Azriel furrowed his eyebrows and tried to keep himself calm. If it weren't for needing to reassure and comfort you right now, he would very quickly dress in his battle armour and take out every male who had ever wrongly taught you about consent.

How someone could let themselves not take care of you if you weren't feeling up to being intimate is beyond his comprension.

Azriel shook his head, gritting his teeth. "That's not how it works with me."

Your eyes started to water as they were opened to understanding what true consent feels like and should be. Azriel was doing the absolute bare minimum in this situation and yet it felt like the most monumental thing to have happened.

"It’s just... When I was with... him, it didn’t matter if I wanted to or not. What he wanted was all that mattered. And I-I guess I just learned to go along with it."

"Well that stops right now." Azriel said, "That's not how we're going to do things, okay? How you feel is more important to me than getting off. Mother above, how does someone even get off if the other person isn't feeling it? Sweetheart, if you’re not sure, then we stop. Always."

A little teardrop fell onto your cheek, but you couldn't help but smile with how loved and protected you felt right now.

You could tell that Azriel was absolutely heartbroken to hear about your past relationships, but he would be damned if he didn't change the wrongs of your thinking. Knowing that your comfort is his priority filled your heart with joy, because it meant that you were safe with him. Safe with your mate.

“I didn’t realise how scared I was to tell you no. I was so sure it would make you angry, or-or disappointed.”

Azriel shook his head again, “The only thing that would ever disappoint me is you thinking you have to hide how you feel. You’re safe with me. I promise."

You nodded in agreement because you did believe him.

You could feel his trust and his assuredness within the bond.

"Can we just cuddle?" You asked shyly.

"Of course we can." Azriel smiled, kissing your forehead for good measure. "Only after I kill your ex..."

You didn't think he was being serious until he started to get up off you and shuffle out of bed. Laughing, you tugged on his arm and because he wasn't expecting it he landed with an oomph on top of you.

"You'll do no such thing."

"We'll see about that." He scoffed, trying again.

"See about it in the morning?" You counter offered, knowing there was nothing you could do to stop him from defending your honour - overprotective mate.

"Fine." He flopped back down on the bed and made room for you to cosy in next to him.

His wings finally wrapped around you, ensuring your safety as the both of you drifted off to sleep, the weight of your confession making it easier to sleep at night. All the while, Azriel stayed up planning his vengeance.

[lucycore]

Harry Potter Headcanons

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊ ˚ ☁️✨️☁️ ₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚₊

For all the people with daddy issues.

Summary: Now how do I explain this? It's pretty much about you having daddy issues and therefore what would include dating these older men.

Includes: Severus, Sirius, Remus, Lucius,

☁️ fluff ☁️ reader is 18 or older

˚˖𓍢ִ໋☁️✧˚.🪐༘⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋☁️✧˚.🪐༘⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋☁️✧˚.🪐༘⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋☁️✧˚.🪐⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋☁️✧˚.🪐༘

Severus:

Very protective obviously

Worries a lot about your well being

Would keep you save from voldy & death eaters..He just doesn't want you to be involved

Can be strict sometimes about who you interact with

He loves when you sit on his lap

He would teach you a lot about potions & dark arts how to defend yourself not how to practice it

Keeps the relationship with you very private

A lot of hugs and kisses

He can get sometimes a little rough but obsesses over you

Also very calm as it's not in his nature to yell when he's mad

Sirius:

Lot's of kisses on the forehead

His kissing is very gentle even when you make out with him

He loves to stroke your hair and tell you how good you are & all that sweet stuff to make you feel loved

Cares about you like a real dad

You're his first priority even above Harry

Lots of late night cuddles

Likes to tell you stories..Sometimes you fall asleep to them

Loves to take you on little walks also at night in the moonlight

Very gentle with words & touches

Would never make you feel uncomfortable

Remus:

He is so sweet to you. Can get little serious/strict with you but never yells

Is literally the best at cheering you up

Likes to give you chocolate no matter if you're upset or not

Handles situations where you're crying really good like he's not awkward or something.

Cuddles you a lot or just give you hugs

He is more of a hugger than kisser but he loves to kiss you don't get me wrong there

Also very gentle with words & touches even more than Sirius

Loves to see you smile..I think your smile is what he loves most about you

He smiles a lot at you & listens to your troubles whenever you need to open up to him. It never annoys him & he always has a good opinion & resolution or just simply shares what he has to say.

Loves to hold your hands & kiss them to show how much he honors you.

Lucius:

Dude i don't even know I feel like he would add to your daddy issues haha but no in all seriousness

You're his princess. Literally.

He takes you shopping & you can buy whatever you like

A lot of gifs but also lots of sweet words

He praises you a lot

He is always very proud of you no matter what you do

Loves kissing you and having you sit on his lap

Also loves when you cuddle into him, your face in his chest.

A lot of compliments & prioritizes to make you feel safe no matter how much he's shitting his pants (referring to his state in HP 6&7)

He finds it very romantic to slow dance with you & look you deep into the eyes with much love in them.

—

Something Important I can't stress enough: Daddy issues or father complex is a real condition that only people with a bad father can have. So if you have a good or ok relationship with your father but you like older men, you do not have daddy issues but a preference which is called 'daddykink'. Stop for fucks sake romanticizing a psychological condition. Not all people with daddy issues like older men btw.

[giggle-guru]

Okay guys…this is my longest and most intricate audio yet! I’ve got a little bit of everything going on and I really hope that the additional audio is more immersive and not too overwhelming! I absolutely adored this one and I really hope you guys enjoyed it. Please please give me some feedback on it in regards to if you found this to be too much, too little, etc etc! I thrive off of your comments because they help me improve and cater them better to all of your needs! Now enjoy some Huskerdust with a lil wrecked Husker (and if any of you catch my reference in the audio you’ve got to let me know hehe…)

The cover art was made by @giggly-tickles whom I adore, so go send them some love! Below the cut with the script you can find the full version, or go check out their Tumblr! Thank you so much you’re a legend 😭

Script and artwork below the cut!

[Visual Note: Husker is at the bar, finishing up a long shift. He grumbles as he sweeps up his feathers from behind the bar once again, wings twitching in irritation. Angel Dust sits across from him at the bar.]

[Audio Note: Sweeping, various bar sound effects.]

Angel Dust: [eyebrow raised] Damn Husky. What’s goin’ on with ya feathers? Ya sheddin’ ‘em like crazy! I ain’t ever seen you sweep up so many before. You goin’ bald?

Husk: [eye roll] S’ none of yer business, Angie.

Angel Dust: [pouting] Aw, c’mon Whiskers! Ya can’t blame me for noticin’. I mean, it’s hard not to when there’s a whole bird’s nest behind the bar. Seriously, ya sick or somethin’?

Husk: [gruff] I said drop it. It’s nothin’ you need to worry about. And stop calling me Whiskers.

Angel Dust: [mock gasp] Oh, excuse me, Baby Cakes! Didn’t know we were touchy tonight. Now spill. Can’t always be on my ass ‘bout talking feelings and not tell me what’s goin’ on.

Husk: [sighs, rubbing his temples] I’m not touchy, Ang. Just… tired, alright? Look, I’m almost done closing up shop for to night. Why don’t you just go to our room and I’ll meet you there?

Angel Dust: [grumbling] Fine. But I’m gonna figure you out, one way or anotha. And don’t take too long, old man. I get lonely without ya.

[Visual Note: Angel walks away to their shared room, muttering to himself.]

[Audio Note: Footsteps, fading bar noise, quietly additional approaching footsteps]

Angel Dust: There’s gotta be somethin’ goin’ on. Sure, he’s grumpy as Hell, but he’s never like this. Maybe I gotta look somethin’ up or-

[Visual Note: Angel, lost in thought, stumbles into Lucifer.]

[Audio Note: Stumble. Footsteps pause.]

Angel Dust: Shit-! [glancing down] Didn’t see ya there Short King. My bad.

Lucifer: [scoff] It’s hard to see where you’re walking when you’re too busy talking to yourself. What’s going on?

Angel Dust: [waving him off] It’s nothin’, okay? Husky is just…actin' weird tonight. Like, extra weird. Feels like there’s somethin’ off with him, y’know?

Lucifer: [slight grin] Eh. Shocker. I get where he’s coming from.

Angel Dust: [confused] Shocker? Whaddya mean, shocker?

Lucifer: [brow raised] It’s molting season, Angel. It’s a natural process. Happens to demons with avian traits every so often. They shed old feathers to make room for new ones. I thought you two had something going on. Hasn’t he told you? Alastor uh…[clearing throat] helped me out last night.

Angel Dust: [eyes widen, realization dawning] Wait, what? Moltin' season? So that’s what’s been goin' on with him? [pauses] Why the hell didn’t he say anything? I coulda helped!

Lucifer: I mean preening is pretty…[clearing throat] I mean everyone’s wings are different.

Angel Dust: [squinting, smirking] Ohhhh, preenin’, huh? Is that what we’re callin’ it these days? What’d Alastor do, Luce, give ya a little feather massage?

Lucifer: [flustered, clearing throat] Ahem! I’m simply saying molting requires a certain… level of ca re. Especially for demons like Husk. It can be…uncomfortable.

Angel Dust: [laughing, leaning on the wall] Oh, I bet it can be. Don’t worry, Lucifer, your secret’s safe with me. Now I’m just wonderin’ how I’m supposed to handle my grumpy feather duster.

Lucifer: [irritated] I’d suggest you focus on your own partner instead of my affairs, Angel. Husk is stubborn, but I’m sure you’ll figure it out.

Angel Dust: [snickering] Sure, sure. Thanks for the tip, Baby Cakes.

Lucifer: [grimacing] Don’t call me that.

[Visual Note: Angel walks back to his shared room with Husk with a newfound confidence and plan - convincing Husker to let him help. He scoops Fat Nuggets up and lays on the bed with him.]

[Audio Note: Footsteps, door opening, door closing, pig oinking, bed squeaking]

Angel Dust: Fat Nuggets, baby! [leaning down to pet him, babytalking] We’re gonna help out ya daddy…yes we are…gonna get rid of that grumpy lil face-

[Audio Note: Door opening]

[Visual Note: Husk steps into the room still looking disheveled his wings twitching slightly as he glances at Angel and Fat Nuggets on the bed.]

Husk: [gruff] What’re you doin’? You havin’ a one-on-one with the pig about me now?

Angel Dust: [grinning, still petting Fat Nuggets] Maybe. He’s a good listener, y’know? And he doesn’t hide things from me unlike somebody I know.

Husk: [sighs] I ain’t in the mood for jokes, Angie. I’m beat.

Angel Dust: [patting the bed] C’mere, Husky. Sit your feathered ass down.

Husk: [narrowing his eyes] What’re you up to?

Angel Dust: [innocently] Who, me? Nothin’! Just thought we could have some quality time. Y’know, talk about stuff. Like…molting.

[Visual Note: Husk crawls into bed beside Angel]

[Audio Note: Bed squeaking]

Husk: [groaning] Dammit, Angel, I shoulda known you’d get it outta someone. Was it Lucifer?

Angel Dust: [snickering] Maybe. Short King’s got loose lips. [softly] Why didn’t ya just tell me, Husky? You don’t gotta deal with this on your own, y’know.

Husk: [shrugs, avoiding eye contact] Didn’t wanna make a big deal outta it. It’s just molting. Happens every so often, no biggie.

Angel Dust: [crawling over to him, kneeling in front of the chair] No biggie? Babe, you’ve been grumpier than usual, and I’m pretty sure you’ve been hidin’ how bad it’s buggin’ ya. C’mon, let me help.

Husk: [hesitating, wings twitching slightly] I don’t need help, Angie. It’s messy and…kinda embarrassing, alright? I don’t want ya seein’ me like this.

Angel Dust: [softly, reaching out to brush a stray feather off Husk’s shoulder] Husky, you’re actin’ like I haven’t already seen you at your worst. Hell, I practically live for the mess. Besides, isn’t that what we do? Look out for each other? You’ve seen me way past rock bottom before.

Husk: [sighing] You’re not going to let this one go, are ya Legs?

Angel Dust: [smirking] Not a chance. Now, lay down and let me get a closer look at those wings of yours. Trust me, I got magic hands.

[Visual Note: Husk hesitates, then finally gives in, lying down on the bed with his wings slightly spread out. Angel Dust grabs a soft brush from the nightstand and starts inspecting Husk’s feathers.]

[Audio Note: Soft rustling of feathers, gentle brushing sounds]

Angel Dust: [teasing] Damn, Husky, these wings are somethin’ else. Big, strong, and goddamn they need my TLC.

Husk: [gruffly] Shut it, Ang. Just do whatever you’re gonna do and quit yappin’- [few giggles]

[Visual Note: Angel continues gently moving around and picking apart the feathers, though now Husk begins to squirm]

Angel Dust: [teasing, mischievous] Ohhh, Husky. What’s this? You’re really jumpy tonight. Don’t tell me you’ve got ticklish wings.

Husk: [gruff, trying to stay composed] No. Obviously not. Just… finish the damn job, Angie.

Angel Dust: [grinning] Uh-huh. Sure. [deliberately brushing the sensitive area of Husk’s wing again] What about here? Oh, wait— there?

Husk: [giggling despite himself] Angie, cut it out.

Angel Dust: [laughing, feigning innocence] Cut what out? Babe, I’m just tryin’ to help you! You’re makin’ it real hard to focus with all that twitchin’.

Husk: [trying not to laugh] You know damn well what you’re doin’!

Angel Dust: [grinning wider] Ohhh, this is too good. The big, bad Husky’s got himself some ticklish lil’ wings! C’mon, Whiskers, just admit it—your tough-guy act’s fallin’ apart over here.

Husk: [gasping through his laughter, squirming away] Angie, shut up! You’re pushin’ it now, I swear to—!

Angel Dust: [laughing triumphantly] Oh, I’ve got you now, Husky! And too bad. I’m not stopping till I get all ya loose feathers out of there.

Husk: Shit! Angel, this is why I didn’t want to tell you, you little- [laughter]

Angel Dust: [grinning] You didn’t want to tell me because ya didn’t want me findin’ out ya just a sensitive lil cutie, huh?

Husk: [half-laughing, trying to stay in control] I'm not cute, and you better quit that before I—

Angel Dust: [giggling] Before you what? I’m just helping preen ya, you ought to be thankin’ me. I dunno what I’d do without these extra arms though, ya squirming like a damn worm!

Husk: [laughing] Thank you?! Angel, I didn’t sign up for this! Okay- okay stop it! This is fucking torture!

Angel Dust: [smirking mischievously] Torture? Babe, this is premium wing care—Angel Dust-style. Now quit wiggling. I’m almost done. Then I gotta remind ya where else ya sensitive-

Husk: [laughing] You fucking wish! No way in Hell am I letting you touch me again- ever! No more touching for you!

Angel Dust: [mock gasp] How dare ya revoke my kitty-pettin’ privileges! That’s it!

[Visual Note: Angel finishes preening - for the most part - and flips Husk onto his back]

[Audio Note: blanket movement and wrestling]

Angel Dust: [grinning] Now you’re really in for it Husky. I didn’t know ‘bout ya wings bein’ sensitive but I do know about-

Husk: [panic] Wait wait wait-!

Angel Dust: [laugh] Your hips.

[Visual Note: Angel moves one hand to squeeze his hips]

Husk: [shrieking] Angie! Angie no! You’re gonna kill me with this shit! I can’t breathe! It tickles! Fuck, it’s not funny!

Angel Dust: [laughing, his voice playful] Oh, but it is funny. Look at you, all grumpy and tough, but when I hit these spots? You’re just a cute witty kitty.

Husk: [managing to grab Angel’s wrist, panting slightly through his laughter] I said I’m not cute! If you don’t quit it right now, I will—!

Angel Dust: [smirking, leaning in close] You’ll what, Baby Cakes? You’re too busy laughin’ to do anything. Face it, I’ve gotcha right where I wantcha. Ya clearly ain’t as grumpy as before so I think I did somethin’. And this tummy is lookin’ like it wants some attention too.

Husk: [hissing through his teeth] Angel, fuck, no, no… I’m gonna—

[Visual Note: Husk tries to push Angel’s hand away, but Angel grins wider and gently presses on his stomach again.]

Angel Dust: [teasing] Oh, what’s this? You’re really not gonna— [pauses as Husk lets out a soft, involuntary purr] Ohhh… wait a minute… did you just… purr?

Husk: [flustered, voice strained] I didn’t… I didn’t purr, you little shit. Knock it off! [still giggling]

Angel Dust: [grinning broadly] Uh-huh. Sure, sure. But you did just purr. So ya lyin’ now. Thats a cute mix. Gigglin’ n’ purrin’ for me. [lightly pressing down on his stomach]

[Audio Note: louder purr slipping in]

Husk: [squirming, purring louder] Stop it! I’m serious, Angel! This is—this is—[laughing] okay, okay, I get it, I get it! I give! Angel-!

Angel Dust: Yeah? Admit it then, Whiskers. You love the attention, you loved me preening ya, you love me-

Husk: [laughing harder, eyes almost closing from how much he's squirming] Okay, okay, fine! I admit it! But you’re the worst!

Angel Dust: [laughing] Now that’s more like it! You’re a good sport, Husky. I knew deep down you liked it when I gave ya some care.

Husk: [gruff but still breathless] Oh, you’re so gonna regret this, Legs. You’re not the only one who can dish it out. Especially after all that bullshit.

Angel Dust: [giggling nervously] Wait, wait—hold on! Husky, we can talk about this—!

[Visual Note: Husk starts tickling Angel back, both of them laughing hysterically.]

[Audio Note: Feathers rustling, bedsprings squeaking, and confused pig noises]

Angel Dust: [gasping between laughter] Stop, stop! Okay, okay, I give! Mercy!

Husk: [laughing victoriously] Oh, no. You started this. You’re gettin’ the full treatment now, Angie!

Angel Dust: [gasping, laughing harder] You— [trying to squirm away, but Husk follows his movements] You’re evil! I didn’t think—! Oh God, please—! Mercy!

Husk: [laughing triumphantly] That’s what you get, Legs! I told you, didn’t I? No mercy.

Angel Dust: [gasping between laughs] I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I swear!

Husk: [stopping] That’s what I thought.

[Visual Note: The laughter fades into softer chuckles as they both collapse onto the bed, catching their breath. Husk’s wings relax, and Angel leans against him, still giggling faintly.]

Husk: [after a moment, quietly] Thanks for the help with these damn feathers, Angie.

Angel Dust: [softly] Anytime, Husky. Just don’t forget – you don’t gotta handle stuff alone. I’m here for ya, sheddin’ feathers and all.

Husk: [softly] Just... don’t tell anyone about this, alright? I’m not about to become the soft-hearted sap of the hotel. And I definitely don’t need anyone other then you using this shit against me.

Angel Dust: [whispering] Cross my heart, Husky. This stays between us... and Fat Nuggets. [laughs softly] He’s our little secret keeper.

[Audio Note: Soft oink]

Husk: [chuckling] That he is, huh? You really do know how to make a guy feel... less miserable.

Angel Dust: [grinning] What can I say? It’s one of my many talents. Love ya, Kitten.

Husk: [hum] Love you too, sweetheart.

[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

[emsdevs]

No Matter the Distance

Noah and Mateo AU

a/n: This idea randomly came to me, and I had to get it out. I'm sorry in advance for any pain this may cause to any lovers of the twins. The next part will be happier! Also, I will be putting out the timeline soon (masterlist form), but for reference, this takes place when the boys are about three and a half.

masterlist | noah and mateo au masterlist

The boys had been extra quiet since Nico left with the team for a roadie this morning. Usually, they would have worked past the initial sadness by now, but their voices hadn’t gotten any louder like they usually would be. You decide to cut up some fruit with their sandwiches for lunch, knowing that seeing the mix of strawberries, blueberries, and bananas on their plates always gets them a little extra excited. When you finish, you call them into the kitchen and then watch as they pull themselves up onto the chairs that are still just a little too tall for them. 

“Tank you, Mama,” Mateo tells you in a tone that usually only Noah would use when he’s feeling extra shy. Your worry increases after hearing his words and seeing the disheartened look on Noah’s face.

“Baby, is there something on your mind?” you question Mateo, the worry evident on your face.

“‘M fine, Mama,” he uses that same tone again, and even though you know he’s holding back, you decide not to push either of the boys on the subject. They eat their lunches quietly after that, not making much noise. When they finish, they whisper to you that they enjoyed their food before returning to their playroom, still rather silent.

You spend the rest of the cleaning and periodically checking on Noah and Mateo, trying to find an outlet to get the worry out. Soon, Nico called to check in, and though you didn’t want to worry him while he was away, you told him about the boys’ weird behavior.

“Ängeli, I’m sure they’re fine. Maybe they just aren’t feeling well right now. You know Curtis’s kids got sick just a couple of days after they had that playdate with the boys,” Nico was quick to reassure you.

“You’re right, Neeks. I’m probably just overthinking. I just worry about them sometimes.”

“It’s fine, baby. Now, tell me about you. I wanna hear how my wife is doing.” You giggle before telling Nico about your day, the worry already gone from your mind. You talked to your husband for a while longer until you had to hang up to put the boys to bed. You helped them with their baths, helped them into their favorite jammies, and finally got them into their respective beds. You were sitting on the edge of Noah’s bed, getting ready to kiss his forehead and go tell Mateo goodnight in the same manner, when he asked a question that made your heart shatter into a million pieces.

“Mama? Does Papa still wuv us?” his voice is tiny, and it breaks you a little more. Mateo crawls into bed with his brother, clearly having the same thought.

“Of course he does, baby. Why would your Papa not love the two of you?” you’re fighting to hold back tears.

“He weaves us a wot,” Mateo shrugs his little shoulders, and he’s using that small, shy voice again.

“Oh, my sweet boys. Your Papa loves you both so so so much! It hurts him so much when he has to leave you both. You’re the lights of his life, both of us would be lost without you two, I promise. Please, don’t ever doubt that your Papa loves you. Or me, for that matter. We love you two more than either of you could ever imagine,” you’re crying at this point, but you don’t really care.

“You wuv us bigger than Juper?” Mateo was in a space phase, and just a few days ago learned that Jupiter was the biggest planet. Apparently, that was the biggest thing his little brain could think of.

“Yes, baby. Wayyyy bigger than Jupiter!” you drag out the word, reaching forward to tickle Mateo’s side. “And wayyyy bigger than a brachiosaurus!” you dragged out the word for Noah now, who was in a dinosaur phase, and began to tickle him as well.

“Otay, Mama!! No mo’ tickles!” it warmed your heart to hear Noah raise his voice a little.

“Yeah, Mama! No mo’ tickles!” Mateo was giggling too, finally using his normal tone of voice. Soon, they settled down for the night, so you went to get yourself ready for bed. As you did your night time routine, you couldn’t help but wonder how in the world you’d tell Nico. It would crush him to hear that the boys were worried he didn’t love them anymore. You both knew they wouldn’t handle his absence well, but neither of you thought it would ever get this bad. You decide against calling him tonight, deciding it would be best to tell him when he gets home tomorrow night, even though it will be pretty late. You go to sleep that night with tears streaming down your face.

You spend the next day trying to distract the boys from Nico’s absence. You take them to the park, take them to watch a movie, and even take them out for ice cream afterward. Is it great parenting? No probably not, but you can’t let them be sad anymore. You’re doing what you can to keep them in good spirits until Nico gets home. Eventually, you get the twins in bed, which goes much smoother than last night. You make yourself comfortable on the couch with a book, knowing you won’t be able to sleep until Nico arrives. It’s a little after 1:00 AM when he walks through the door, and you immediately stand up to hug him, trying to savor his happiness from coming home after a win while you can. After sharing a few kisses and talking about how you hate being apart, you know you have to tell Nico then, not wanting to hide it longer than you already have.

“I have to tell you something, but you can’t freak out right now okay?” you gently pull him toward the couch. You could see the nerves on his face, and the thought of telling him made you queasy.

“Ängeli, it can’t be that bad,” he lets out a nervous chuckle, knowing the last time he saw you this nervous was when you told him you were pregnant. 

“So the boys… they um they missed you a lot while you were gone, but it was a little um a little more than usual,” you were stalling and you knew it. 

“Okay… that’s not too bad? Did they say something I should be worried about? Did they act out? They’re usually on their best behavior for you?”

“They did say something,” you took a breath, knowing how much this would hurt your husband, “Nico, they asked me if you still loved them because you’re gone a lot.” The tears were flowing now, but you had no plans of trying to stop them, especially after seeing the tears about to fall from Nico’s eyes.

“They think I don’t love them?”

“No! At least, not anymore,” you cringe at your words. “I talked to them last night and told them we both love them very very much, and they seemed better today.”

“Oh my god. My sons think I hate them.”

“Nico, baby, they don’t think that. They’re just little. They couldn’t wrap their heads around why you have to leave so often. I explained that you don’t have a choice and hate it as much as them, if not more, and they understood a little bit better. It’ll just take some time for them to get used to it again now that they’re older and can think for themselves.”

“How do I even begin to make it up to them? I’m leaving again in a week and a half,” he lets out a sadistic chuckle.

“Nico, they still love you. You know that, right? You’re their favorite person. They could never be mad at you for long.”

“Yeah, but they aren’t just mad, Ängeli. They think I don’t love them.”

“How about you go and get ready for bed, and then we can grab the boys and let them sleep with us tonight? Would that help?” Your grasping at straws trying to keep Nico from feeling so guilty.

“Okay,” his voice is almost as small as Mateo’s was the day before. You finally move from the couch, moving to your bedroom so Nico can do his night time routine. The second he finishes, he’s giving you a look and heading straight for the boys’ room. The two of you don’t even attempt to wake them up, just lifting them from their beds and carrying them to yours. That’s the first night the boys slept in your bed since they turned three. 

Nico took the next day off, skipping practice even though you told him it wouldn’t hurt the boys. He spent the entire day bonding with the boys, making sure they knew he’d never stop loving them. They played games for hours in their playroom until you had to call them down for lunch. After some chicken nuggets, which the boys were very grateful for, they were off to to the backyard, running Nico to the bone. Honestly, this was probably more of a workout for him than practice would be. That night you could hear him reassuring the boys as he put them to bed, “Your Papa will always love you two. No matter how far apart we are or how many time I have to leave, my main goal is to always come home to you two. You’re my priority and my favorite part of my day. Papa loves you both so so much.” When he leaves their bedroom, you act like you didn’t hear anything and pretend not to notice the tear stains on his face. 

The love fests and spoiling didn’t stop that day, though. While he was going to practice and games, he made sure every second he had free was spent with his boys. He even let them go watch practice one day and run around Prudential Center. They were ecstatic to watch him play again, and you knew that every doubt had left their mind by now. Unfortunately, you could tell it would take Nico a while to completely get over it, but just like everything else, you two would tackle that together.

taglist: @heartsforjh @devilinpradaheels @puckmedude

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[ihopesocomic]

Speaking about the too many characters issue you pointed out early; isn't that an overall issue on most internet based works? The ones that promote the characters first and the story second?

There are a lot of projects that end up giving more time to Toyhouse profiles, AMVs and stuff on every single background character than in the full work. Is there any advice to deal with that?

Not saying that IHS is the case, considering that it's not finished in the slightest, obv.

You would know better than me if it was a common problem on internet based works. I wouldn't be surprised if it is. I just don't read that many things online. But I do see a lot more voice acting calls than actual results lol so you're probably right.

Some people's stories are only relegated to toyhouse profiles and I think that's an interesting way to do it. It's when people rely on the profiles to get across important information about characters that should be in the comic/cartoon/what have you when it becomes an issue. This isn't counting people who just need a reference to remember who people are. I can admit when it's a me problem versus a problem with the narrative haha

But we've said this a few times before, characters should have a point. And if characters can be consolidated, they should. Like in MP you could have the same plot if you combined Quickmane and Proudmane. Because the exact same outcome happens anyway.

I worried about us having too many characters, especially since we ended up adding more as we went. But it helped that the protagonists were on a journey so the irrelevant characters would be moved on from. I believe that helps with the readers being able to keep track of everyone, because while they're dealing with Edge and his family, they don't have to think about the leopards. Stuff like that. And with all these characters it's just as well we kept their names as one-word names. So while there may be multiple Storm's in this universe, there will be only one Storm in the comic, otherwise it'd really be confusing haha

I can't remember exactly what it was, but I've seen cartoons and live action shows where a character doesn't even have a name until they become relevant to the plot. In books I've read, they'd probably have a name just to make the world feel more natural, as we address people we know by name, but we don't need their life's story to understand why they exist. That should be reserved for your main cast. And in Clouded Moon, we don't even know who Spottedshadow's parents are until like the middle of the story, and then that sort of reveals that Hazelstar and Forestleaf are her grandparents. I feel like that would be important. Or it should be.

This'll be the last time we bring up Clouded Moon. We won't be responding to any more anons about it because we'd just be repeating ourselves. So any comments can be directed to replies on the initial post discussing it. - Cat