#BUT do not take me for an authority here i am not an authority my opinions do not matter

[mkfshard]

This is such an infuriating problem. Another 30 year old man here, I grew up in nearly the exact same scenario as these people, preloaded with shitty beliefs. I endured the endless tumblr posts that said without nuance 'ew guys' and ragged on white people for their unaddressed racial bias, and it was painful but I endured and listened and heard the message I was supposed to hear because I wanted to be better! And I think I am, compared to the conservative-parent-puppet shitshow I was before! What are you supposed to do with people who don't have that desire? Who run home and cry into the arms of fascists when they're confronted with the barest natural pains of unlearning bigotry? Why must we have empathy for people who refuse to hone their own? When do we demand that they take responsibility for the things they say and do? They have flaws that form barriers between themselves and others; but confronting them on these flaws only makes the barriers thicker. Despite everything I have to believe that redemption is possible for them, because it was for me. But I have no idea what it looks like. Maybe someone who looks and acts 'manly' going on TikTok and making videos with conservative clickbait titles and offering gentle, baby-steps life advice and parasocial companionship for the shittiest people on Earth, but anyone who tries is going to be in the direct line of fire.

In an abstract sense, I do care about them, I do want them to exist. I want everyone in the world to have a happy, fulfilled life, to never be hurt or hurt others, and to never face injustice.

But what love can be offered white guys that we don't already have in spades? We're surrounded by mirrors in every story. We are the Default of bigotry, absolutely untouched by nearly every unfair societal ill the world has to offer, save the expectations of masculinity, a problem solved by embracing feminism. The exact thing these idiots sneer at.

It's been a very, very long time since I've seen a hyperbole-strewn post hating on white guys in aggregate, and I've more often seen pushback on that very idea. The feminists they're getting angry at are an overgeneralized, sans-nuance caricature from a decade ago, and I doubt they've read a single thing from one since.

I'm all ears for ideas, but a spiteful part of me just wants to encourage people to flatly put out a total social embargo on conservatives-- banning them from any communities you have authority over, demanding their bans elsewhere, and leaving any community that doesn't institute a ban. Give them no choice but to hide their ugly soul and listen, or else be left with nowhere and no one. ...Realistically, this would obviously just drive them to conservative communities all the harder, and clearly being stuck in smelly clubhouses with racist manbabies isn't miserable enough for them to rethink their ways and seek other outlets, or else we wouldn't have this problem to begin with. At the very least, I'm not having any in my communities.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[daycourtofficial]

It’s just to satiate the bond

Pairing: Eris x Rhysand’s sister!reader | WC: 2.3k | warnings: smut, piv, oral (f!receiving)

Summary: an agreement to have sex just to satiate a mating bond neither party wants is a great idea. Surely no one will get hurt, right?

Author’s note: this is part of my gingerfucker series but can be read by itself 😌

Her teeth were grinding as she walked down the hallway, her steps getting faster, trying to put as much distance from her and the large meeting room. She had to get away, she had to hide. She moved further away from the gathering of High Lords, pushing her instincts down, down, down as she went.

It was ridiculous how her body was reacting to just being in his presence, being so close to her mate. She shook her head, angrily trying to dispel that word from it.

Her ears twitched at the sound of quick steps behind her, nearly catching up to her. She quickened her pace, almost breaking out into a run, but the male that had followed her was quick to push her into an open door, shutting it behind them.

“What the fuck, Eris? Let me out of here.”

Eris stood blocking the door, not letting her move past him. Her arms reached for the knob before quickly being swatted away.

“No.”

“What is wrong with you?” She huffed out the question, not expecting much of a reply.

“Me? What is wrong with you?”

“I’m mated to an asshole.” Being so close to him was making her head spin, his scent of whiskey and smoke made her heart rate pick up.

His amber eyes danced with amusement. “Surely you understand mates are equals, so whatever I am, so are you.”

“You are a child.”

“You are the one who ran away.”

“To get away from you!”

“How did that work out for you, princess?”

He was grating on her, annoyance causing her teeth to grind again. She tried taking in a deep breath, hoping it would calm her nerves.

“It’d work better if you weren’t keeping me in here.” Her voice attempted to make the words sweet, missing the mark they came out with too much bite.

“I have a proposition.” It was difficult being this close to him. She picked up nearly every detail about him in this proximity: the freckles that trailed beneath the color of his shirt, wondering if they continued further down. The faint scent of what must be his hounds that clung to him. The necklaces that hung from his neck, draping over ornate fabrics she wanted to run her fingers over.

“We are both less than thrilled at this mating, however I am sure you are having urges that can’t be satisfied by anyone else or yourself.” His words pulled her from the visual inspection, looking up at him to find her distraction didn’t go unnoticed.

She moved her hands across her chest, fingers tapping her elbows. She didn’t want to admit how right he was - even the sight of other males made her want to gag. Nothing and no one had satiated the intense need that thrummed inside of her since it made itself known to her.

She nodded at him to continue, but he merely stared at her. Exasperated, she finally asked, “how do you suggest we go about fixing that?”

“We need to convince our bond we are happy.”

Our bond. The words struck something primal in her, some deep desire she had to be with him.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Don’t think I can’t feel you in my chest in the middle of the night.”

“And what of it? Do the males of Autumn not want their females to know sexual desire? Rather it be unpleasant for her?”

Eris growled, the sound shooting heat through her.

“I can do more with my tongue than any male in the Night Court can do with their cocks.”

His scent was suffocating, the air around her coated with him. It was surely making her delirious, surely the only reason she heard herself saying, “prove it”.

Those two words, spoken an exhale, was all it took for the Autumn heir to move quickly.

He buried his face in her chest, his teeth nipping at the exposed skin of the tops of her breasts. A soft moan escaped from her mouth, his face tilting just enough for his amber eyes to show. He looked like a true predator as starving, wolfish eyes looked back at her.

He lifted her, grabbing the backs of her thighs to hoist her around his hips before she felt the wall hit her back. There was no time to object as he stuffed two of his fingers into her mouth.

“Hush now, Princess. Would hate for your moans to expose us.” Heat pooled in her stomach at his smirk.

Eris didn’t let himself think about what he was doing as he undid the ties on his pants. He didn’t think as he slid her panties to the side, sliding his fingers through her wet folds. He bit back the groan that was making its way up his throat at how wet she was. He didn’t think as he lined his cock up to her entrance, something inside him desperate to keep her gaze on him as he did so.

He watched her violet eyes widen as he sheathed himself inside of her, nearly coming undone himself at how perfect she felt around him.

He wouldn’t think about his previous sexual encounters, never caring about who he was with. Sex was transactional, a means to an end. This was to satiate the godsdamned bond thrumming between the two of them.

He would never admit to her he had taken all his previous lovers from behind, never caring to watch them. Never admit to the stirring his cock felt watching her eyes close, swallowing her moans.

Eris felt himself getting close to that high, felt it creeping through his body as his thrusts got sloppier.

He had to take control, couldn’t allow this weakness. His fingers held her jaw tightly. , examining her eyes with each thrust.

“I hate you,” she gritted out, teeth grinding.

He thrusted hard into her, his gaze seering as he watched her eyes roll back.

“You hate me so, and yet you buck like a common whore for my prick.” His hair was falling into his face, his punishing pace making it harder to concentrate.

“Do you ever stop talking? You’d be much more likable if you did.” Her voice was high and breathy, something inside him knowing just how close she was. Their mixed arousal was pinging throughout his chest, a sensation he had never felt before.

“You weren’t worried about likability when you started dripping on my cock.”

“Fuck you.” Her eyes were closed, searching for every ounce of pleasure he was giving her.

“Aren’t you already?” Hushed words were sending both of them closer to that edge, each desperate to land just one more barb. The arrogance in Eris’s tone sent her spiraling, pleasure ripping through her in uncontrollable waves.

Eris was furiously pumping into her as she milked his cock, her high cresting as he met his own. Between their shared orgasm, there was a split second their eyes met. The vulnerability of what they just did passed through the glance, and then it was gone, locked away deep in both their souls.

Eris’s head met her shoulder, struggling to catch his breath.

“Winded there, Lord?”

He growled at the question, his fingers quickly gripping tight to her before immediately letting go. He pulled back from her, the loss of contact making his chest go heavy. His fingers quickly redid the ties of his pants, a hand moving through his long hair.

The only sound was their labored breaths, filling the room with the knowledge that they could not go back. A fact neither of them would accept.

She moved her skirts back down, desperate to cover that seed that ran down her inner thighs.

Eris moved to the door, his back to her enough for him to bring his fingers to his mouth, swirling his tongue around the remnants of her arousal on it.

-

“It’s just to satiate the bond.” The lie fell from her lips, something she had been telling herself over and over again over the past few weeks since that first time with Eris.

“Do you like how the bond makes you hot for me?”

The pain from the tree against her face was nothing compared to how good each of his thrusts felt.

Her fingers dug into the tree, desperate for some bit of reality to cling to. It felt absurd how common this occurrence was - meeting almost weekly now just to keep the bond inside from exploding.

It was ridiculous how many nights she spent in her bed, her fingers not enough to satisfy her as her mind drifted to the male behind her.

“Better than being eternally sad over you.”

A chuckle came from him before he thrusted deep inside her, his fingers a tight grip over her hips she was sure was going to bruise.

“How would Rhysand react to finding out his precious sister has been reduced to little more than a common whore?”

“Don’t tell me you have to think of my brother in order to get off, hmm?”

His pace was punishing at her words, their back and forths doing more to him than he wished to admit.

Long fingers wrapped around her neck, tilting her head back just enough for her to see his amber eyes full of lust. She couldn’t stop the moan coming from her mouth at the intensity of his gaze, how just the sight of his eyes and one swift thrust of his hips sent her toppling over the edge of pleasure.

His pace quickened, his thrusts working her through her orgasm until he pulled her as close as possible, emptying himself inside of her.

Eris kept looking at her, his gaze focused as she tried to catch her breath. With more effort than he anticipated, he pulled his hands away from her, helping her straighten herself off the tree.

He moved her skirts, helping her straighten them out. His hand met her waist, an almost tender touch before he quickly pulled it away.

“Next time don’t make any plans afterward. You reek of sex and have the markings to prove it.” His fingers pointed at his own face, showing a line where the bark had made indentions into her skin.

He waited, not saying anything, only nodding at her before winnowing away, leaving her stranded in the woods, confused and alone.

-

“I just need a taste.”

Eris Vanserra was kneeling on the ground before her, his body disappearing beneath her skirts. He was not gentle as he grabbed her leg, throwing it over his shoulder.

“Er-oh.” Protestations die on her tongue as his mouth latched onto her cunt, his tongue pressing against the cloth of her underwear.

Her strained ears could barely make out his grumbling about “coming unprepared”, his voice muffled as his tongue made long, sweeping strokes through her folds.

He was pressing his weight into her, the only thing keeping her upright against the tree as he held her in place. The woods were echoing with the obscene sounds from underneath her skirt, but she could not care less.

Suddenly Eris grabbed her other leg, leaving her hoisted against the tree, his neck her only support.

She couldn’t hold in the obscene noises coming from her mouth. One of Eris’s hands let go of her thighs and she could hear him fiddling with the ties of his pants.

“Eris, you filthy thing. Are you touching yourself while you eat me out?”

A growl was all her retort was met with, a bite to her clit making her practically climb up the tree.

He was moaning into her, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through her.

A biting quip was on the tip of her tongue, replaced by a moan as Eris’s fingers pushed the cloth to the side, rubbing his nose through her folds. His usual sharp tongue laid flat as he licked a long stripe across her heat. She shuddered at the sensation, trying to hold off her orgasm for as long as possible. The bond inside her was thrumming, bursting with joy at being pleasured by her mate.

Her hips were desperate as they rode across his face, thighs squeezing his head to keep him in place.

The sound of Eris pumping his cock into his hand was pushing her past her limits, their weekly rendezvous leading her to know exactly how it felt in her chest when he came.

Her high was quickly squashed as he pulled away from her, causing her to fall unceremoniously onto the ground. She let out a soft gasp, both pain and surprise unable to be contained.

“What are you-“ She looked up, chastisement at the ready, only to find her mate gone, nowhere to be found. She stood on shaky legs, using the tree as a support, not wanting to admit the disappointment that followed her as she left.

-

The ground was wet beneath her skirts, the tree biting into her back as she waited. The air was cold and uninviting, as if no one should be out in it without a coat or a lover’s embrace. She tried to ignore the heaviness in her chest, telling herself, “it’s fine.”

She waited. Minutes quickly turned into an hour, the moon high in the clearing above. Goosebumps ran up and down her arms at the late hour. The bond hummed lightly in her chest, nerves too strong to find out the consequences of pulling it.

Were these daliances getting to her, meaning much more than they should? He was supposed to arrive hours ago. He had never left her waiting this long.

Worry consumed her, but the everpresent bond assured her that he was out there somewhere, fine with the distance that lay between them.

She had never waited this long for a male to show up to a date before. She stopped that line of thinking quickly, shutting it down. Reminding herself this is not a date.

She sighed, rejection and embarrassment coming off her in waves. Her chest felt hollow as she looked about the clearing one last time, desperate for any sign she missed him before winnowing far, far away.

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites @the-golden-jhope @hannzoaks @secretlyhers @tothestarsandwhateverend @sarawritestories @chxosangxl

Eris taglist: @magicstrengthandcourage @book-obsessed124

Gingerfucker taglist: @bookwormysblog

Thanks for reading ❣️

[tossawary]

General info: as far as I'm concerned, all of my fic ideas posted here are up for grabs.

Most of them, I'm never going to get around to writing, unfortunately, because I don't have the time, and even if I do write some out, I'm not going to object to someone else giving their own take. I very much subscribe to the "HOLY SHIT, TWO CAKES!" philosophy for fandom: more treats in more flavors is good.

Guidelines (as far as I can set conditions when I can't actually stop anyone): 1) If you get around to posting anything for this fic idea, I would appreciate being informed when you do. I may lose the notification because my brain is soup when I'm tired, so you can always message me again asking for a signal boost or something. I won't promise to read any fanfiction, because I may still be working on my own thing, but I still like being told.

2) I would also appreciate a shout-out, like an acknowledgement in the author's notes, for the inspiration, especially for very specific ideas with many details that get used. If you're going as far as to use dialogue that I wrote, then I would prefer a link to the original post / fic as well as a shout-out.

3) If I do decide to write out the fic idea someday, you have to be cool with there being two takes on it. We're not competing. No two people are going to have the same interpretation of a premise, which is great, when different fans are looking for different things. I'll probably be happy to link our works together. And if I am inspired by your work directly, if I do read it, then I will credit you for it, of course.

I am also fine with it if people write fanfiction of my fanfiction. If you write fanfiction of my fanfiction and say, "This fic sucked, I made it better," then it will hurt my feelings and I will probably block you, but I'm still not going to, like, ever try to set my followers on anyone. If you write out my fic ideas and you make any characterization or plot choices that are not to my taste, then I am going to go, "Oh, well, I hope they're having fun," and then get on with my day. If I somehow find out that you wrote my fic idea or fanfic for my fanfic and never told me about it, then I'm probably going to go, "Fair enough, I also generally prefer that authors do not acknowledge my existence," and it will not be a big deal.

So, go for it! Someone might as well try writing it and have fun with it, if I'm not going to, and also even if I do. ❤️

[natequarter]

🎉 yourbutchboyfriend Follow

considering changing my url but like what even to. yourbutchboyfriend?

💣 commiedyke Follow

DO ITTT

🎉 yourbutchboyfriend Follow

alright :3 here goes nothing

#anything for you

3 notes

🎉 yourbutchboyfriend Follow

man why does the doctor always act like i don't know what sex is? i'm 17 not 7 lol

🖋️ edwardianadvcnturess  Follow

He does the same with me! It's so utterly infuriating, why does he think just because I'm young I don't know what an orgy is?

🔫 thebrigadier Follow

I do believe he views all humans as deeply immature. I am nearing fifty now and he still patronises me whenever we meet.

❄️ icemaiden Follow

You're FIFTY??? No wonder the Doctor refuses to talk to you about such matters, that's practically cradle snatching. Or grooming.

⚰️ themaster Follow

hey didn't you lie about your age the first time you met the doctor? also you are literally 120. TIME TOT ☝️

❄️ icemaiden Follow

And you are literally a mass murderer. Go away.

⚰️ themaster Follow

you are like a little baby. watch this

*dies in his arms and he cries because he loves me unlike you who he could never love*

🎉 yourbutchboyfriend Follow

are you guys done yet or

#man what the fuck #is this like. time lord flirting

617 notes

🐧 coordinatorsupreme Follow

Tell me why the Rassilon character study I was just reading has an author's note that says "Sorry I haven't updated in decades, I got kidnapped and tortured by Daleks for twenty years!" Are all Mo3 users like this or is it just r*negades

🧶 elizabethtudor-blog Follow

Isn't this what happened to the president of Gallifrey?

🐧 coordinatorsupreme Follow

First of all, get off my post, I specifically have it in my DNI that humans are blocked on sight. Second of all,

WHAT?

👑 fred Follow

well what were YOU doing at the devils sacrament dare i ask

🐧 coordinatorsupreme Follow

None of those words are in the Matrix.

#What in Rassilon's name is a sacrament

132 notes

🗡️ worsthumanongallifrey Follow

it's always the little things in life. for example today i discovered that the writer behind all those doctor/romana fics on mo3 is none other than romana herself

#but does she write anything about me #nooo #no she does not

550 notes

📑 anordinaryjournalist Follow

Having a lovely coffee date with Harry to celebrate twenty years of the Doctor abandoning me! For some reason Harry hates it when I phrase things this way

📑 anordinaryjournalist Follow

Only 3 people died this time, it sounds terrible but I was hoping for something more interesting in all honesty

#the cafe didn't even explode or anything this time round #last time we had to pick up the dismembered bits of several corpses. much more fun #on the other hand Harry had to take his shirt off today (long story) #so that was fun #I mean it wasn't even really necessary but shhh he doesn't need to know that #eternally glad someone else is willing to put up with my nonsense (exploding fish-puma alien hybrids)

12 notes

🚬 fitz-crier Follow

nneed himmto fied merinto a pjper shrrder thrgn eastthe paper until wahts ke and whsts him is indenifinsble

📺 compassion Follow

I think he should not do that. Get help.

1 note

🏏 the--adventurer5 Follow

Repeat after me: your psychosexual obsession with an alien threat that wants to kill you is valid. Cosplaying as intergalactic mass murderers does not make you a bad person.

👑 fred Follow

if you make ONE MORE post glorifying cricket like this i may actually have to report you to the high council

🏏 the--adventurer5 Follow

Wait Romana I didn't mean it I'm sorry. I'll do anything. I'll unexplode Adric please don't report me to the High Council

👑 fred Follow

i'm not angry, i'm just disappointed.

✈️ donewiththisshit573 Follow

I'm angry! Stop fucking bringing up Adric when clearly none of you care about him!

⚰️ themaster Follow

what she said. be psychosexually obsessed with ME please please pretty please. i'll treat you right i won't report you to the high council i won't even kill you a little bit this time

🏏 the--adventurer5 Follow

You are pathetic.

#if you died right now I wouldn't even be sad I would be overjoyed

467,343 notes

[thefallennightmare]

Dreamstate-Noah Sebastian x Reader[JP UNIVERSE]

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut(18+), star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse, talks of death, depressive thoughts, talks about not being able to conceive, and endometriosis.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: Hi my loves! JP has been around for ONE YEAR! I am so thankful for all of you. I appreciate every single one of you more than I can ever express. This one-shot takes place between chapters 29 and 30! Also please know that I do not mean any disrespect to Keaton or his memory. Everything I've ever written was done with love and appreciation for him like I've done from the beginning. 🪽🖤 I will not hold it against you if you do not want to read because of it. But please know, that it's done with the utmost respect.

Tags[CLOSED]: @blueskylinesx @missduffsblog @hayleylatour @sleepyomens @loeytuan98 @artificialbreezy @marvelousmal @bngurngheart @lma1986 @wild-child-7747 @calleyx13 @illmakeyousaywow @jaded-and-hollow-souls @shayzillaaaa @badomensls @shadowseve @collective-heartbreak @klutzy-kay24 @sorrowsofsilence @sweetlittlekitsune @shilohrosechicken @itsafullmoon @toospooktocute @niicoleleigh @thatchickwiththecamera @hoe-for-daddywise @whenthesummerdies @thisbicc @sammyjoeee @joe9cool @ozwriterchick @happi-goth @softvgold @cncohshit @heyyoplayer @rain-down-on-me @respectfulrebel @reader13000 @koskeepsake @malerieee @cheyyyyr @myownthoughts12 @noahsbong @laurpartyprogram @cloudykoookie @jessiskyee @sideeyenoah @badomensls @bellaboo967 @rxdlstgn @anthemheatwave @lobolocaamo @cncohshit @amelia-acero @karenfranco @collidewiththesavannah @xserenax-13 @supersquirrel1996 @themodern-daywednesday @oxythoughtin7715

THIS IS FICTION. NONE OF THIS IS REAL.

NOAH

Blinking my eyes open, I looked around my surroundings and noticed that I was no longer in my bedroom fighting with Y/N. I was on the tour bus, our tour bus, and when I craned my head to the side to peer out the window in my bunk, I sucked in a breath at what I saw. An oddly familiar venue with a red roof. 

“What the fuck,” I muttered while rolling out of my bunk on the tour bus. “How hard did I hit my head last night?” 

During my fight with Y/N, she threw one of her sketchbooks at me in frustration and it hit me directly in the middle of my forehead. That was the last thing I remembered before waking up here in our tour bus. We didn’t have a tour planned which made this whole scene even more confusing. I stretched out my long limbs, feeling the bones pop into place, as I walked towards the front area of the bus and made it outside, wondering where the rest of the guys were. 

“Jolly? Nicholas?” I called out. 

A sudden commotion on the far end of the bus caused me to whirl around and my heart thundered in my chest with the sight before me. It wasn’t the group of people that gave me pause. It was the lone female in the group with her long blonde hair and familiar smile that made my skin slick with sweat. 

"Nice to meet you. I'm sure they've already said this but we're huge fans of Hollow Souls. Noah has your music on the playlist we play during the wait time for our shows,” Nicholas smiled while extending his hand towards the familiar blonde. 

"Shit, you guys sure know how to make a girl blush," she laughed lightly while bouncing on the soles of her feet.

“Y/N,” I breathed. 

"Malcolm, your directions-." 

Just as footsteps thundered down the steps of the bus behind me, the scene around me spun on its axis and darkness crept in. Bile rose in my throat as I felt my body being lurched forward onto the cold concrete, scraping up my palms and knees. 

“I should not have had that gas station burrito,” I grumbled while clutching my stomach. 

Slowly rising to my feet, I leaned my hand up against a car I had been literally thrown in front of, suddenly making me tilt my head towards it. This wasn’t the tour bus I had stepped down moments ago. In fact, I was in an entirely different place than before. 

“This is one fucked up dream,” I dragged my hand down my face. 

An angry voice from the other side of the van had me stepping around it slowly, not wanting to be detected on the off chance this wasn’t a dream and I was sneaking up on someone who could kill me. 

"You don't have to worry about Noah hurting her. That's the farthest thing from his mind. He might be stubborn as hell but when he cares about someone, he makes sure they know that,” Nicholas smiled over towards Chase and Malcolm. 

Furrowing my brows, I glanced over to Folio, seeing him shake out his hair before putting his hat back on. "He's a Scorpio, what did you expect?" 

“That was fucking rude,” I muttered under my breath. 

"Whether or not they admit it, they both need each other," Jolly smiled down over the cliff. 

Peering over the hood of the car, I saw two faint figures on the beach and sucked in a breath; all the memories from our beach day came flooding back in as Y/N and myself waved up at the group of guys. 

“How hard did she hit me with that sketchbook?” I rubbed at my forehead, still feeling the sting from earlier. 

It was clear that I was dreaming of past moments Y/N and I shared but I couldn’t get over how real and vivid everything was. Almost as if I traveled back in time to these moments and saw it from a different perspective, not my own. 

Why was I dreaming of these moments? Did it have a meaning? Or was it just because my brain was fucked up from all of the fighting Y/N and I had gone through?

Before I could get comfortable in this dreamstate, I felt the darkness creep in on the edge of my vision once again and all at once, my body was thrown through a tunnel only to be spat out seconds later; a different scenery from the last. 

I was now in a hotel room, unsure when and where because frankly from the years of touring the hotel rooms began to blend together. It was then that I got a look at myself in the reflection of the mirror in the room and I sighed. My hair was short, indicating what I already knew. I’d been jumping in between moments from my past. 

“Hi, angel.”

“Hi,” a soft voice broke through the quiet of the room, causing me to look over at the bed. 

No. 

My past self sat on the bed with Y/N, her head in my lap as I ran my fingers through her hair. It was evident no one could see me because I was standing at the foot of the bed, watching as my past self lowered his lips onto Y/N's, capturing them softly. 

Our first kiss. 

My heart fluttered in the confines in my chest, remembering the feeling that filled me that day. Through the dread and intense sadness from losing my best friend that day, Y/N’s unwavering comfort eased away the darkness that crept in. 

“About time, huh? I’d been trying to set you two up for years.” 

My body froze at the voice that lingered in the air; the familiar voice that I hadn’t heard in years.  I choked while whirling around at the voice, ignoring the couple in the bed who were muttering something about Mario Kart. 

The room spun rapidly before I could get my bearings, the floor getting ripped out from beneath me and my body slammed back and forth against the void before I fell onto a couch in yet another room. This one I immediately recognized, all of those feelings of hurt and abandonment crept back in as I let out a shuddering breath. 

My past self, donning those ridiculous braids, dragged a finger over the large tattoo on Y/N’s back as she cuddled the pillow close to her chest, a soft giggle echoing in the room. 

"Way down the road maybe one day in the future- to live in the middle of nowhere with a dog, cats, and a family of my own. In my wooden home that I built."

My eyes screwed shut, knowing what was going to come next. The calm before the storm. All because I asked a stupid question. 

“Think of how far you’ve come from this moment, Noah. It was rough getting there but it was worth it.”

Snapping my eyes open, I glanced around the room looking for his face. It was his voice, surely he had to be here. 

“Where are you?” I said. 

As I blinked, the scene changed yet again and now I was standing in the rain, it chilling me to the bone. Wrapping myself deeper into my hoodie, I gazed around to see my past self standing in the rain as well with Y/N, trying to stop her from getting in her car. 

“What easy way, Noah? This isn’t easy!” Y/N sighed. ��None of this is easy!” 

“No it is, actually.” My past self nodded. “Don’t think about anyone or anything else. What do you want from me? What do you want, angel?”

She rapidly shook her head, choking on a sob. “It’s not that simple.”

“What. Do. You. Want?” I watched myself enunciate every word with a pound fist to my chest. 

When Y/N remained silent, I grasped her face to bring her into my warm embrace, even with the rain. “God damn it! What do you want?”

The pain in my own chest was evident, remembering how gut wrenching it felt to ask repeatedly what Y/N wanted. That night had started off great, only to be ruined by Bailey. It was my fault ultimately for not being clearer about our breakup. I tried not to dwell on it much because of how far Y/N and I have come since this night. 

A snicker sounded from my left. “Did you really quote The Notebook? Never pegged you as a romance film kind of guy.” 

Looking at the voice, I let out a gasp when the all too familiar smirk appeared on a face I hadn’t seen in years; one that my heart yearned to see again. His form began to fade in the darkness as it danced around both of us, dragging us back down. 

“No. Please, wait!” I reached for him only to be thrown into yet another memory. 

How long had I been asleep? Did this fucking sketchbook render me useless? Was I passed out on the floor of our bedroom? 

Another thing I couldn’t figure out: why was I being thrusted into my own memory lane?

A commotion of voices halted me as I stood in a crowd of people, still undetected, and when I caught a flash of red, my breath caught in my throat knowing exactly what memory I’d been thrown into. I no longer was soaked to the bone due to the rain; I was dry. 

I'm not afraid of the war you've come to wage against my sins.

I'm not okay, but I can try my best to just pretend.

The music echoed loudly in the room and I frantically looked for the couch, knowing my past self would have been sitting there. I watched as he rose from his seated position and started to push his way through the crowd, looking for Y/N as our song played; a siren call looking for their lost soulmate.

“This was one of the most irritating moments of my life,” I sighed while crossing my arms over my chest, watching as our past selves kept missing each other. 

“Do you know how hard it was to make sure you guys found each other at the right moment that night?” That voice snickered behind me. 

Whirling around, I saw those eyes that shined bright with so much light. Just like before, the second I caught sight of him, he disappeared before I could grasp him. I wasn’t sure what was more irritating: being thrown around in an imaginary void or not being able to fully see the presence that had been following me. 

For quite longer than I thought, apparently. 

Expecting to be dragged down into another memory, I simply turned on my heels to see I was now standing in a hotel hallway. My past self stood no more than two feet in front of me, hand rubbing at his chest. The words he muttered fell on deaf ears as my eyes locked with the man holding my past self up. I knew I felt someone's arms around me that day, keeping me from falling to my knees. 

“Keaton, I need you, man. Please tell me everything will be alright.” 

As a soft breeze blew past the three of us in the middle of the hallway, I kept my eyes locked with the materializing figure over my past self’s shoulder. 

“You’ve been with me this entire time,” I breathed with the realization. 

He wore a soft smile as he nodded, before slowly fading away. “It’s okay.”

Then all at once, the world around me shifted one final time, throwing me back into my bedroom at home and I fell onto the bed with a grunt. It seemed like I was back to where I was before I went on a dream walk down memory lane, Y/N’s scattered sketchbook on the floor at my feet. Movement in front of me caught my eye as I slowly rose and tentatively walked over to the bathroom, seeing Y/N and me standing there. Both of them were standing in the middle of the bathroom with bright and hopeful smiles. 

“I don’t remember this,” I said with my hands on my hips. 

I watched as Y/N wrapped herself around his midsection, both of them swaying to something before they looked over to the phone on the bathroom counter with even wider smiles. 

"Should we post it?" She asked.

Other me smiled bright, love filling those once dark eyes. "Instagram story. On there less than twenty four hours. Once we post it, lets turn off our phones to just focus on us."

“How’s she doing?

Jumping at the voice over my shoulder, I finally saw him standing in front of me and not in the ghost form he’d been all those times before. 

“Keaton,” I breathed, almost immediately wrapping my arms around him in a hug. 

His infectious laughter echoed when I tackled him. “Good to see you too, Noah.” 

We stayed like that for a long moment, trying so hard to ingrain how it felt to hug my best friend again into my memory and when we eventually pulled away, I sniffled while whipping away a stray tear. 

“I miss you so much, man,” I admitted with a shaky breath. 

“I’m always with you, Noah. Right here,” Keaton pointed to my chest then to the tattoos on the side of my hands. “And right there.” 

Ignoring the couple behind me in the bathroom, not knowing what they were waiting for, I kept my attention on Keaton. 

“You know, when I'm sleeping I sometimes talk with you. But every time I wake up, it’s like I'm waiting for a miracle.” 

I sniffled one more time with a shrug before continuing. “Maybe when the night comes, I'll find you in another world.”

“I’m not the miracle you need, Noah. But believe, it’s closer than you think.”

“Huh?” I asked, not quite sure what he meant by that.

“How’s she doing?” Keaton asked again, the colors in the room suddenly fading away, only to be replaced with a bright white light. 

My brows furrowed. “Who? Y/N?” 

Instead of answering, his smile reached his ears and bid me a final goodbye with a wink before turning on his heels and walking farther into the void of white. 

“What do you mean?!” I called out after him, desperately wanting to run after him but my feet wouldn’t move, feeling heavier than concrete. 

“In time the price of peace will cost us everything but all the love you leave carries on,” Keaton’s voice spoke in my mind one final time. 

A loud gasp fell from my lips as I sat up in bed, covered in a thick sweat as it lingered on every inch of skin. The fabric of my shirt clung to my back as I frantically looked around the room, my heart nearly bursting out of my chest. I was back in my bedroom and noticed that the sketchbook wasnt where it previously was. Matter of fact, neither was the broken picture Y/N threw at me before the sketchbook. 

My gaze locked on the date that was shining bright on our alexa home screen causing me to cock my head slightly at it, air catching in my throat. 

No. 

No way. 

It was not possible. 

“Clearly I’m dreaming again,” I murmured to myself before pursing my lips and pinching my thigh. 

“Nope, not dreaming,” I yelped in pain. 

The bed shifted next to me causing me to look down at the naked form on Y/N as she lay in a tangled mess of bedsheets and blankets. 

“Hmm,” she hummed with a smile after setting her phone down on the pillow next to her. “Astrid and Faye want to meet up with me today. I guess they both have some special news they want to tell me.” 

I blinked. “Huh?” 

“I guess something happened after The Ghost Inside set with Faye last night and Astrid found out something pretty important,” Y/N said. 

I could barely speak, still being dumbfounded with the date on the Alexa home screen. 

“Maybe I'll invite them over once I'm back home from the art store. I figured it'll be alright since you have therapy and we’re not going to dinner until four,” she sat up while letting the sheet fall to her lap. 

I was still in a state of shock that I couldn’t even gaze at her perfect breasts, my mind whirling with so many different emotions. All I could do was numbly nod.

“I must say,” she smirked while brushing away the hair from my face, laying a kiss on my lips. “It’s always great to wake up to you every morning. But on my birthday, it’s extra special.”

[planetkiimchi]

i knew it first | z.cl

"i'm in love, i'm in love, i'm in love with the boy next door." (series masterlist)

featuring: neighbour!chenle x gn!reader, cameos by johnny, winwin, joy, suzy, dokyeom, renjun, jisung, ningning

word count: 15278 words

warnings: a little bit of swearing (i tried to keep it to a minimum), food mentions, some angst bc would it really be my fic if i don't give my characters major issues am i right 🤩

summary — chenle's pretty sure his crush on you is obvious. it's a little stupid, really, just how in love he is with you. but it's even more foolish how you don't seem to realise until he confesses properly. you can lie and say you knew he liked you all along, but he'll stand by the fact that he knew you liked him first.

author's note: happy birthday, my wonderful zanna @slytherinshua <3 thank you for being the most supportive friend EVER, for always being open to doing face quizzes (and for being so patient when i get them wrong), and for always trying to engage everyone in the server or the community. i hope you have the most wonderful month and that you get all the good things you deserve!

At 22, you were accustomed to solitude. Your career path as an actor had started ever since you were a child, and you were one of the few kids on set who didn’t cry when your parents left. Your parents took this as a sign to enrol you in acting classes, and you joined theatre in high school.

By the time you graduated high school, you were performing in musicals locally, often practising with the rest of the crew late into the night. Each run needed to be as perfect as possible, and the pressure could get to your head sometimes, which was when you would take a step back, speak to your friends—especially Winwin—and find your footing before you went back to practising.

You had quite a strong support system within the performers, but outside of them, you didn’t have anyone else.

You moved out of your parents’ house shortly after you turned 22. While it was, in some sense, a financial burden for your family, you and your parents had agreed that it was worth it, especially since your schedule was erratic and you often came home late, disrupting their sleep. It wasn’t like you saw them often anyway, so you all came to the conclusion that it would be better for you to move out.

“Sicheng,” you called, winding through the house with a mug in your hand. “Sicheng, where are you?” Winwin emerged from the living room, phone in hand, his eyebrows raised. “What?” “Oh, I just had a question.” Winwin turned away, taking a seat on the couch and crossing his right ankle over his left knee. “Sit.” Once you were seated, he turned his body to face you, and with a posture of attentiveness, asked, “What’s up?” “Should I have a housewarming party? I don’t know if it’s a good idea, what if the neighbours are my fans and they harass me for the entire time I live here once they find out who I am?” Winwin looked at you curiously. “Okay, wait, slow down. You don’t even like parties.” You avoided his gaze, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “Well, yeah, but—” “No buts. If you don’t want a housewarming party, then just don’t hold one,” Winwin concluded, leaning back into the couch.

“But… It's not that I don’t want to host a housewarming party either. I do want to celebrate having a new house, it’s just…” “Socially exhausting?” Winwin supplied.

“...yeah.” Winwin picked up a pen from the coffee table, spinning it around as he hummed. “What kind of party do you want to have?” “Maybe potluck?” “That could work. You could send invitations to whichever friends you want to come, and ask them each to bring some food. It’ll just be food and talking, and maybe some wine. I’ve got a karaoke machine at home, I could bring it over and we could set that up. It’ll be fun!” “Really?” you asked. “You’d do that?” “Yeah, why not?” “I mean, it’s not like you like parties either…” “You’re my friend, Y/n. It’s not socially exhausting being with you.. The rest of them are my friends too. It’ll be just a hangout for us,” Winwin promised.

“Okay.”

Two weeks later, cars started pulling into the carpark near your apartment, and you watched the familiar cars on the street from your window. “They’re here!” you exclaimed, going into the kitchen where Winwin was removing the lasagna from the oven.

“Oh?” Winwin placed the lasagna on the table, just as the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” Winwin let out a laugh at your jittery state as you hurried to the door to open it. Jaehyun stood there at the door, a bouquet in hand, with Joy by his side.

“Welcome! Come in, come in,” you told them, gratefully receiving the flowers. Winwin led them into the house as you went to find a vase for the flowers. Joy set the food down on the dining table, remarking that the lasagna smelled heavenly.

Slowly, the guests began to arrive, first Suzy, followed by Dokyeom shortly after. Johnny, the company manager, was among the last few to arrive, but he was easily forgiven by virtue of his dazzling smile and the expensive wine he had brought.

Once everyone had arrived, the plates were distributed and food was served. Over the hot, steaming meal, everyone shared their congratulations, and you received a number of compliments on the lasagna.

The conversation proceeded to take the direction of the musical you were currently practising for, and several jokes that you should end practice earlier were made, but Johnny shook his head and smiled knowingly (you all knew that meant practice could very well be extended instead of shortened).

Once the food was finished, Winwin headed to the living room to set up the karaoke machine, while the guests brought the soiled cutlery to the kitchen, where they placed it in the sink before visiting the washroom.

As they started heading towards the living room, the doorbell rang, and you furrowed your brows in confusion.

You made your way to the door, not bothering to look through the peephole before opening it. In front of you stood a young man about your age, his hair slightly dishevelled, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt.

“Who’s that?” Winwin called. When you continued to remain silent, he set down the microphone and went over to take a look.

“Hi,” the man said. “I’m Chenle, your neighbour. My family and I noticed there were some guests earlier, are you having a housewarming party?”

You swallowed your saliva and nodded hesitantly. “Yes. Sorry, were we being too loud? I can tell them to keep their noise level down.” Personally, though, you hadn’t thought that you had been noisy. Was your neighbour one of those people that could only function in absolute silence? “Oh no, no,” Chenle laughed, waving his hands in front of him to dispel the thought. “You haven’t been noisy at all. We just wanted to pass you some pizza—my family runs a pizzeria, you see—to say welcome to the neighbourhood! Our flat is just opposite yours,” he pointed.

“Oh, wow. Thank you!” you replied.

“It’s no problem. Well, I’ll be going. Enjoy your party! I’ll see you around.” Smiling, Chenle waved at you and went back home.

You turned to Winwin, shutting the door before you whisper-yelled, “He’s cute!”

Winwin rolled his eyes and pulled on your ear, ignoring your cry of pain. “Honestly. What goes on in your head?”

Before you could reply, a screech from the living room caused both of you to turn your heads. You burst out into laughter as you caught sight of Johnny attempting to belt out a high note, his face red with exertion. Your friends were gathered around him in a circle, legs crossed, with Johnny being the sole exception. He stood in the centre, fist clenched, bent over as he sang into the microphone—that is, if it could be considered singing.

Breathless, he handed the microphone over to Joy, who blessed your ears with her melodious voice, amidst the dying laughter. Dokyeom handed him a glass of water, and he gulped it down, leaning against the sofa with a dramatic sigh.

You brought the pizza with you as you and Winwin headed over, settling onto the carpet as the song continued to play.

Dokyeom raised his head, locking eyes with you. Once you were seated, he tilted his head towards the door. “What was that about?”

“My new neighbour.”

“He’s cute,” Dokyeom commented.

“I know!” you replied, rolling your eyes. Opening the pizza box, the smell of freshly cooked pizza filled the air, and you handed a slice to Joy, who was staring at the pizza hungrily.

“Want one?” Dokyeom nodded, and you handed him a slice, before biting into a slice of your own pizza. The gooey, cheesy slice melted in your mouth, and you sighed happily.

“I told Winwin that the guy was cute, but he brushed it off,” you tell Dokyeom.

“He probably doesn’t want you replacing him,” Dokyeom said. “Want a lollipop?”

You received it, sucking on it contemplatively. After a moment, you took it out of your mouth, reaching over to tap Winwin on the shoulder.

“You know I’d never replace you, right?”

Winwin’s brows knitted together in a moment of confusion, but that expression was quickly replaced by one of amusement. “I know.”

“Good.” You retracted your hand, leaning forward to squint at the lyrics as the microphone was passed to you.

As the night came to an end, your friends gathered up the empty containers strewn about, collecting their belongings. More than one of them downed a glass of water, proceeding to head to the bathroom afterwards.

You wiped down the table before sending your friends off, waving at each one of them in turn.

“Thank you for coming,” you repeated.

“Thank you for inviting us!” Suzy smiled.

“Tell us about that cute boy,” Dokyeom said with a wink, scurrying off before you could respond.

“What— Seokmin!” Winwin reached out to place a hand on your shoulder, and you turned to face him.

“Do you need help with anything else?”

You shook your head. “Go home and get some rest.”

Winwin gave you a quick hug, waved and left.

With a sigh, you plopped onto the couch, gaze trailing over the empty house. The exhaustion was just beginning to catch up to you, and you let out a tired yawn. You ran a tired hand through your hair, sweeping it out of the way as you went into the kitchen, taking up a wet sponge and squeezing out a bit of dish soap before scrubbing at the dirty dishes.

Once that was done, you wiped down the table, swept the floor, and threw all the trash into the bin. Then, you bagged your trash and took it out.

As you locked your door, you noticed a piece of paper hung to the doorknob by a string. You removed it, taking a look at the words written on it.

dear neighbour,

i realised i forgot to get your name! anyway, here’s my number so you can contact me whenever.

chenle

You pocketed the piece of paper, and as you passed by Chenle’s house, you smiled a little at the shoes neatly placed on the shoe rack—mostly sneakers—wondering which ones were his.

After taking out the trash, you took a long, hot shower, letting all the tiredness dissolve from your body. You blow dried your hair, clambered into bed, and looked at your phone, which was blowing up with pictures from the earlier party.

You sent a quick ‘thank you’ message, resolving to go through the photographs slowly the next day, and sent a text to Chenle instead.

unknown: hey chenle, this is y/n, your neighbour :)

He replied almost immediately.

chenle (cute boy next door): hey y/n! it’s quite late, get some rest first? i’d love to hear how you're settling in y/n (neighbour): yep, you too

Placing your phone on the nightstand to be charged, you soon drifted off to sleep.

Hands braced against the floor, you did two back walkovers while the music slowly trailed off. The last note faded as Dokyeom’s voice quietened.

“Halt!” The two of you turned to the direction of the sound, and you took a few tentative steps back until you were next to Dokyeom. Dressed in a shirt and jeans, Winwin wasn’t very intimidating, but his tall stature and serious expression made up for it.

The silence ensued for a few seconds before Winwin sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. “Sorry. Line?”

The lights blinked on, and Johnny emerged at the foot of the stage. All eyes turned to him as he spoke, not loudly, but clear enough for his voice to travel.

“Alright, let’s take 5. Sicheng, you okay? Do you need to read your lines?”

Winwin nodded, then leapt down from the stage, grabbing his water bottle from one of the front row seats. He drank slowly before replacing his bottle and snatching up his script. The neon yellow highlights blurred as he shook out the script in frustration, flipping to the page he needed.

“Halt, what do you think you’re doing, you street rat?” he muttered, repeating it over and over again under his breath.

You sat on the edge of the stage with Dokyeom, catching your breath. You took a swig of water and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. Dokyeom nudged you, and you turned to face him. “Hm?”

“How are you getting home? Is Sicheng still going to drop you off?” When you lived with your parents, you would always carpool with Winwin, since your house was on the way home for him.

You shook your head. Since moving house, it was no longer convenient for Winwin to drop you off. “Suzy offered to drop me off,” you told Dokyeom.

Dokyeom nodded. “That’s good. It isn’t safe to make your way home alone when it’s dark.”

“I know, Mum.” Dokyeom rolled his eyes at the jab. Checking his watch, he got to his feet, extending an arm to help you up. You took his hand and he pulled you to your feet with ease, the two of you setting your bottles down out of the way before assuming your places again.

Winwin hurried up the steps to the stage, eyes scouring the floor for the yellow crosses that demarcated his spot, and heading into the wing just next to it.

Johnny clapped his hands thrice, the loud sound resounding throughout the studio. “Ok everybody, breaktime is up! Let’s get back to rehearsing.”

The rehearsal ended at 10pm, which meant it was already 11 when you stepped out of the elevator at your floor. You were slightly delirious from the lack of sleep, having stayed up late the night before to tidy up your house. Rocking on your heels, you pressed a hand to your temples to ease the headache building up behind your eyes, taking a few steps forward.

Walking proved to be a challenge, as your foot came into contact with an obstacle. Blinking your bloodshot eyes, you identified the obstacle as a delivery box.

Several delivery boxes, in fact. No less than 10 delivery boxes were strewn across the corridor between your apartment and Chenle’s. You shut your eyes for a brief moment of reprieve, and when you opened them again, the boxes remained.

So you weren’t hallucinating. Frowning, you slowly weaved your way between the cardboard boxes. At your door, you braced one hand against the door frame as you removed your shoes, placing them on the rack and locking the door behind you.

You contemplated asking Chenle to move the boxes, but it was late and you didn’t intend to disturb him. You hadn’t actually seen him for the whole day, you realised. Perhaps his working hours and yours didn’t overlap.

y/n (neighbour): pls move ur delivery boxes 🙏

Not long after sending the text, you drifted off to sleep.

You woke the next morning to banging against your door. Concerned, you flipped your phone screen up, only to realise that it wasn’t even noon yet. With a long, drawn out groan, you rubbed your eyes as you slid into your slippers and padded across the room.

You pulled the door open, stifling a yawn, seeing your friends outside.

“It’s too early for this,” you mumbled, heading back inside before they could say anything. Dokyeom hurried inside after you, yelling for you to hurry as you disappeared into the toilet.

You emerged from the bathroom, dangling your earrings against your earlobes as you looked at yourself in the mirror, deciding which accessories fit your outfit best.

Dokyeom stood by the door with his arms crossed, shouting, “Hurry up! We’ve got to get there before they break for lunch!”

You groaned, putting the other sets of earrings back into the drawer and slipping the ones you'd chosen into your piercings. You pulled your socks on in a hurry, not even bothering to put your shoes on properly as you rushed out after your friends. Your fingers slipped a couple of times as you tried to insert the key into the keyhole, until you finally managed it, while Joy yelled at you from inside the elevator to move quickly.

You rushed into the elevator, kneeling to tie your shoelaces and put your shoes on properly. Then it hit you.

"What kind of lunch place closes during lunch time?"

Dokyeom scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "Well, about that... I kind of just said the first thing that came to mind that I thought would make you hurry, and it worked, didn't it?"

"Seokmin! Ah, never mind. It's fine." You stood up properly, adjusting the strap of your shoulder bag as you followed your friends out. You got in Jaehyun's car, with Dokyeom navigating in the passenger seat.

The ride wasn't long, and you pulled up to a deserted building, with "One Minute Pizza (一分钟披萨饼)" written in a deep shade of red.

You stepped out of the car, followed by Joy and Dokyeom, while Jaehyun drove off to find a parking lot in the carpark. Dokyeom took the lead and you followed behind him as he headed to the counter to look at the menu.

"Chenle?"

To your surprise, one of the workers at the counter taking orders was none other than the neighbour you had messaged the night before.

His expression remained friendly, the customer-service smile fixed upon his face as he finished attending to the customer in front of you. As you and your friends moved forward, he caught sight of you, breaking into a genuine smile.

“Y/n! Welcome, what can I get you?”

Dokyeom launched into his order, ordering enough pizzas for all of you to share. Joy would be stealing everyone else’s food anyway, so Dokyeom didn’t bother ordering anything for her. Once he was done ordering, Chenle repeated the order back to him, and Dokyeom took the receipt and went to sit down.

You lingered a little while longer, standing by the side so the next customer in line could move forward. After calling out the order to the kitchen, Chenle looked at you, eyes rolling up as he recalled something. “Oh, right! I moved the boxes. Did you get my text?”

You glanced at your phone, realising that you had several unread texts. You clicked on the one from Chenle, which read:

chenle (cute boy next door): mb 😓😓 just cleared them!

“Yeah, I did! Thanks for that, by the way.”

“No problem. My mum has a bit of a consumption problem, so the delivery boxes are a common hazard. Just let me know next time, and I'll move it for you, yeah? Don't want you to trip and fall.”

“Okay.”

Chenle smiled, apologising to the customer for the wait before taking their order.

Jaehyun joined you as you walked to your table, nudging your shoulder and whispering conspiratorially, “Who’s that?”

“My neighbour.”

“Oh, the cute one?” You whipped your head, hair smacking into your forehead. You brushed your bangs out of your eyes as you gaped at Jaehyun, mortified.

“You heard that?”

Jaehyun shrugged. “You were speaking about it with Dokyeom while you were sitting right behind me. It wasn't hard to overhear."

"Jae!"

Jaehyun grinned, sitting down opposite you, half his ass off the chair as he squeezed in next to Joy, stuffing a slice of pizza in his mouth. His voice was muffled as he said something about you being one of the most obvious people he'd ever met.

Joy leaned forward, elbows propped up on the table, chin resting on her hands as she darted her eyes pointedly in Chenle's direction. "So, what's the plan?"

"What plan?"

Dokyeom squinted at you, brows furrowed. "Y/n, please don't tell me you're that dense." When you continued staring blankly at him, he pulled away with a sigh. "I guess you are. The plan to make Chenle your boyfriend, of course."

You choked on your drink, coughing violently while Dokyeom patted your back. Sputtering, you turned to face the culprit, who only looked at you innocently.

"Lee Seokmin!" you whisper-yelled. "Can you please not say that while he's right there?"

Dokyeom nodded appeasingly and waved a hand at the food. "Okay, okay. Go on and eat, we're actually going to be late if you're slow."

You checked your watch and scarfed down the pizza. However, Joy, who had already finished eating, had other priorities. Leaning back, she crossed her arms and said seriously, "I personally think you should find out if they have neighbours’ meetings. It'd be great in helping you assimilate into the community, while also getting to know a certain someone a little better."

Between bites of food, you considered this proposition before deciding that it wouldn't do you any harm. You nodded to acknowledge Joy's suggestion, before you finally finished eating and everyone stood up to return the trays while you wiped your mouth clean with a napkin.

"So," you started, while the four of you briskly made your way to the car, "I'll do what Joy says and update you all once I've done it."

Jaehyun let out a laugh. "Why do you make it sound so serious?"

You frowned, offended, but your conversation was interrupted when you locked eyes with Chenle, who smiled and waved at you. You waved back happily, a happy glow settling on your cheeks.

“Dear God,” Jaehyun groaned. “He’s already making you delusional.”

You swatted him, and he quickly amended, "Not delusional! A perfectly sane human who will be telling us all about their attempts to gain Chenle’s love!”

You harrumphed, taking long steps with your legs straightened out, until Joy wrapped her hands around you and laughed joyfully. “Come now, Y/n! They're just teasing.”

You stuck your tongue out the side of your mouth and glared at Jaehyun. He shrugged uselessly and you finally relented.

“Fine, I’ll tell you all about it. If anything happens.”

“When anything happens, you mean. Have some faith in Joy’s plan,” Dokyeom interjected, winking at Joy.

She grinned back at him and you rolled your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.”

The studio was warm with the body heat radiating off the few of you piled up on each other, limbs strewn out in a tangled fashion, heads resting on anything soft you could find. Your head was buried deep within your sweater, which you had laid upon the wooden floor, and Winwin was snuggled up into your side. Somewhere, Suzy and Dokyeom were also lying among the scripts and pens lying on the floor, heads supported by their forearms and each other’s legs.

Nobody dared to move much—if they did, they might tickle whoever they were leaning on, and if they breathed too deeply, the person lying on them might shift away. Anyway, everyone was too tired to move much, mouthing their own lines to themselves, occasionally thumbing to the next page or groaning in frustration. You propped your elbows up and struggled into a half-sitting, half-lying down position, glancing over at Johnny, who was speaking to one of the stage crew while gesturing wildly to the stack of props next to them.

Joy awakened from her nap, rubbing her eyes as she looked around. “What time is it?” she asked, spotting you as the only one who wasn’t busy with something else.

“5.50,” you replied. Joy nodded, pulling her shoes back on, before tucking her hands into the deep pockets of her jacket and getting to her feet.

She walked over from her corner of the room to your spot on the floor, crashing next to you, causing Winwin to look up at the sound, eyes rolling up. Joy waved at him and smiled.

Winwin smiled back, rolling over onto his stomach as he surveyed the studio. He rubbed his hands together, then pressed the back of his palm against your neck, and you shuddered at how cold he was.

His body was warm, but his fingers weren’t, so you passed him the sweater that you had been lying on, and he buried his hands within it to gain some of the warmth you had transferred to it.

Your phone buzzed as you clambered to your feet. You pulled it out from your pocket, mouth widening in shock when you read the message.

“Joy,” you whispered urgently, tugging on her sleeve, “What does it mean when someone says they have a surprise for you?”

Joy let out a sharp, delighted gasp. “What?” Her shocked reply pulled Dokyeom out of his trance, and your friends gathered around your phone while Winwin stretched his legs out, a short distance away, weight resting on his palms as he watched you with an amused smile playing on his lips, head tilted to one side.

Joy skimmed through the messages quickly, her smile fading when she finished reading all of them. “I don’t think it means much, since he said his friend bought it for him. It kind of sounds like he’s just using you so he doesn’t feel guilty about letting the gift go to waste.”

“Ah,” you sighed, disappointed. “So it’s nothing special?”

Joy shrugged. “I mean, he’s giving you something, and that means he at least remembers you and is friendly towards you.”

“Can’t take care of these kinds of things well?” Dokyeom interjected, reading off the message, and you smiled inwardly at how delayed his reaction was. “What, is he giving you some kind of living organism or something?”

“... Shit.” You pressed your hand to your forehead. “You don't think he got me a plant, do you?”

Nervous laughter escaped Joy’s lips, shortly followed by Suzy’s full-on chortling. Soon, the sound of laughter in the room was so loud that you could barely hear Johnny calling for the actors to come back to the centre. That was, until his voice, amplified by the microphone strapped to his body, clearly enunciated, “Lee Dokyeom and company, if you’re not over here in one minute, you can all kiss goodbye to your current roles.”

The laughter soon died down to smothered giggles as you ran over to the sides of the studio that you were starting on, Jaehyun nudging you as you rehearsed your lines by the side. “Didn’t you kill the bean sprouts you tried to grow in elementary school?”

You rolled your eyes. Ever since Winwin had given you a plant for your birthday and your parents had let slip that you were notoriously bad at taking care of anything living, including yourself, your friends had never let you live it down.

“Yes, Jae, that’s old news. Shouldn’t there be other things for you to think about right now? Say, like making sure you don’t accidentally start rapping your lines?”

Jaehyun groaned. “That was one time, Y/n–“

Before he could say any more, you were scurrying into the middle, one hand on Dokyeom’s shoulder as you bounced on the balls of your feet. You pretended to lose balance, falling forward into a front roll, and Dokyeom rushed forward, peering over the half-completed balcony prop.

“Abu!”

You got to your feet, dramatically dusting off your shoulders before grinning widely at Dokyeom, head cheekily cocked to one side before you leapt back behind the balcony prop.

All thoughts of Chenle were soon pushed to the back of your mind as you immersed yourself in the role.

Those thoughts never left the back of your mind, however, and they still plagued you as you sipped the ice-cold water from the water cooler and swirled your noodles around, taking slow bites while Suzy ate contentedly.

“You okay?”

You shrugged, forcing yourself to take another bite before looking at the empty bowl and sighing heavily. Rehearsal had ended earlier than expected, and it was barely 10pm, yet you felt more tired than usual.

“I guess I’m just a little tired of life.”

Suzy raised her eyebrows, reaching over to hug you wordlessly. When she pulled away, her hand remained on your shoulder as she made eye contact with you. Each word she said was intentional and carefully enunciated as she told you, “That’s normal. We all get a little tired of life sometimes, especially when we’re nearing a big production and hours are long, making it easy for us to lose sight of what the goal is. Just remember that you have us—” she gestured vaguely in the direction of the empty studio—“and that we’re always here for you.”

You nodded, slumping against the table and burying your head in your hands. “It’s just– I want to love and be loved, you know? And it’s so hard to do that in this day and age.”

Suzy smiled ruefully and hummed in understanding. “I know it’s tough. I won’t lie and say it gets better, but at some point we all figure out something that works for us. Just hang in there for a while, you’ll find your way too.”

Her words hung in your mind the entire ride home, even as you stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for your floor. You took advantage of the short elevator ride to take a break, shutting your eyes until the “ding” sound of the elevator doors opening called you back to reality. 

You were greeted by a potted plant sitting next to your shoe rack when you came up to your door, and you slipped your shoes off and picked up the plant, pushing open the door to your house. You set the plant down on your dining table, glad that there was a plate underneath to prevent the water from leaking onto your floor.

You left the plant there while you went to wash up, and came back afterwards with your phone in hand.

Sitting at the table, you turned the plant around aimlessly, contemplating what to do with this “surprise” your neighbour had given you with pure intentions. A white sticker caught your attention, and you began to search up the name, looking up what kind of care it needed. Fortunately for you, it was a succulent and fairly low maintenance; although you knew that you were still perfectly capable of killing it.

You decided to put it on your window sill, where it was sure to get plenty of direct sunlight while you were fast asleep, and watered it sparingly. You sat at the table, admiring the view of the plant anyone else would have if they were to step foot inside the house, a smile breaking out across your face.

You caught yourself, shocked at how quickly you had come to accept the gift, despite your earlier protests about owning a plant.

Before you could think any better of it, you were dialling Winwin’s number.

He picked up the video call, groggily wiping at his half-closed eyes. “Honestly, Y/n, have you ever heard of this thing called ‘sleeping’? It’s really good. You should try it.”

“I have a succulent. On my window sill. And I'm happy thinking about how it’ll look every time I come home.”

“Wow,” Winwin drawled. “What a tragedy.”

“I’m serious, Sicheng. I’ve never managed to keep a plant alive before. But the moment Chenle gives me one, I'm staying up late trying to figure out how best to take care of it. Do you know how terrifying that is?”

Winwin rubbed his face tiredly. “Do you need me to come over? You sound like you’re having a crisis.”

You shook your head. “No, can you just… Stay on the call with me?”

Winwin nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.”

A moment of silence ensued before he asked, “So, what’s up? Suzy told me you were feeling a little tired of life.”

You shrugged. “I don't know, I'm just… thinking a lot, I guess. It’s been a while since I’ve been in a relationship.”

Three years, to be exact. Your high school sweetheart had lasted all of four years before deciding halfway through university that your “high commitment to theatre” made it “impossible” for the two of you to work out.

Since then, you had never been in a relationship, though not for lack of trying—you simply had high standards that were difficult to meet, and all your previous dates had barely met the bare minimum. Once, you had jokingly suggested that you and Winwin date, but he had turned down the offer without blinking. In hindsight, dating within the troupe would have been messy whether or not the two of you broke up.

“Y/n,” Winwin called, pulling you out of your stupor.

You blinked at him. “Yeah?”

“Nothing. Just, talk to me, yeah? You know I can’t read your mind.”

You nodded. “I know. I was just thinking.”

“We’ve discussed this. If you want to talk to me, you’re going to actually have to talk. You can't just be silent and expect me to understand.”

“Can't we just sit in silence for a while?” you asked pleadingly.

Winwin shook his head. “You know what comes from sitting in silence. Those thoughts in your head never go silent, do they? You’re going to have to voice them aloud for me to know what you’re thinking.”

“I’m just wondering if I really like Chenle, or if I’m seeking out love to the point that I mistake any form of human interaction outside of our group as a potential romantic relationship.”

Winwin’s gaze softened. “I think you’re being paranoid. Your feelings are completely valid, don't discredit them like that. Why don't you just wait it out and see? There’s no harm in getting to know him better.”

“But you know me, Sicheng. You know I’m scared to commit. I'm scared to lead him on and then dip when he reciprocates.”

Winwin smiled ruefully. “Haven’t you ever heard of facing your fears? You’re good at stepping out of your comfort zone. What changed?”

You shrugged, playing with the hem of your shirt. You stood from your spot in the dining area, making your way into the bedroom, where you snuggled under the covers as Winwin watched you expectantly.

“I guess you’re right. There’s no harm in getting to know him better. I am planning to stay in this place for a long while.”

Winwin grinned. “That’s the Y/n I know. Get some sleep, you’re going to have to talk to Chenle tomorrow.”

You frowned, mouth opening to ask what he meant, but you were too slow. As always, Winwin was one step ahead, hanging up before you could say anything.

sicheng: don't think i’ve forgotten about your promise to execute joy’s plan sicheng: i'll make sure you carry it out tmrw

You sighed. You weren’t sure whether to be grateful to have a friend like Winwin.

It was drizzling when you stepped out of the elevator, a light breeze blowing into the lift lobby. Other than the quiet whistle of the wind, everything else was silent—just how you liked it.

You took your time taking off your shoes, leisurely unlocking your door, when you heard the click of someone else’s lock and the sound of a door opening. You turned around, only to see Chenle dressed in a hoodie and shorts, his tousled hair obscuring his face.

He ran a hand through his messy hair, barely managing to tame it, when he finally looked up from his feet to you. His slippers remained forgotten on the shoe rack by the door as you made eye contact, breathing out a soft “oh”.

Chenle froze, hand groping about for the doorknob, then deciding to forget about it and slipping his feet into a pair of slippers. He stepped away from the door frame, shutting the gate behind him, and jerking his head at you.

“Just got back?”

“Yeah.” There was a pause while you contemplated asking Chenle if he was drunk, but he answered your question before it was even out of your mouth.

“I’m sober, by the way. Just hungry. I was going to head out to the store nearby to get some noodles, do you wanna come?”

You looked down at yourself, then back at the open door, into the empty apartment where there was nothing waiting for you anyway. It wouldn’t hurt to go with Chenle, right?

“Sure.”

Both of you stopped just before exiting the apartment building, opening your umbrellas as you stepped out into the rain, one after another, The wind had picked up, and the rain was starting to grow heavier, blowing into your face.

Chenle tugged the hood of his jacket up, cocking his head to one side. You followed him, staying silent on the walk there until Chenle spoke up.

“So, what’s your job? Do you often end this late?”

You side-stepped to avoid stepping into a puddle, not looking up as you replied, “I’m an actor.”

“You act in movies?”

You shook your head, then remembered he probably couldn’t see you with it being so dark outside. “I’m preparing for a musical.”

Chenle came to an abrupt halt, and you stopped walking, tearing your eyes away from his worn trainers to meet his eyes. You tried not to think too hard about the amusement in his black eyes, or the way it made them sparkle just a little, even with the sky being pitch black all around you.

“SorryIwasbusylookingatyourshoes,” you mumbled, all in a rush.

“What?” Chenle leaned in, and you took two frantic steps backwards.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear what you said!” you yelled, then covered your mouth immediately. Nothing was going to plan!

Chenle let out a chuckle and you glanced at him, trying to decipher the look in his eyes as he smiled at you. “Am I making you nervous?”

“No.” You tried not to let your voice waver when you repeated it. “No, I’m not nervous. What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really talk to people much unless they’re customers, or when I’m playing on the court. It’s been a while since I’ve had a conversation. I didn’t want to cross a line, so let me know if anything I’m doing is making you nervous.”

“You’re not– you’re not making me nervous, Chenle. I’m fine.”

Chenle’s lip curled up slightly. “You remembered my name.”

“Yeah.”

Chenle started walking again, and you matched his pace, trying not to think too hard about what was coming out of your mouth, or why he might have gone silent.

“What kind of noodles do you like?”

You frowned, trying to think of all the noodles you had ever tried. Winwin had definitely taken you out to some Chinese restaurants before, but the only thing you remembered was that noodles were “mien”, which wasn’t helpful in your current situation at all.

“Um, I’ll eat any kind? Chow mien, maybe?”

“Chǎo miàn,” Chenle repeated, and you weren’t sure if he was correcting you. “Yeah, I can do that. That just means fried noodles, though. What kind of noodles do you want me to fry?”

“Oh, uh–“ you stuttered anxiously. “I’m not– I’m not really sure? I’m fine with whatever, really.” I don’t know what the names of the different noodles are, and I don’t want to sound like an idiot in front of you, you added to yourself.

“Okay. Lā miàn it is, then.”

You repeated it softly to yourself under your breath, and were surprised when Chenle corrected your pronunciation. You hadn’t expected him to have such keen hearing, nor had you expected him to actually care about how you pronounced it. Winwin had never really cared; you thought that he had probably given up a while back, after hopelessly trying to get you to say “nǐ hǎo” for one of the jokes he had made to you.

Chenle was quite the opposite.

He was extremely persistent, to the point that it should have been annoying, but you were honestly just happy that the conversation wasn’t dying down.

While he led you through the noodle aisle, confidently making his way to where the lā miàn was, he pointed out the other kinds of noodles, making you practise saying the name of each one before he moved on. By the time he finally reached the lā miàn boxes, you were on the verge of snatching a box of uncooked noodles off the shelves and dragging Chenle out, just so he would stop criticising the way you struggled to pronounce the tones.

As Chenle scanned the noodles, you finally mustered up the courage to ask, “Chenle, do you guys have neighbourly meetings?”

“What?” he replied, distractedly tapping one of the options on the screen and tapping his card to pay for the noodles. He tore the receipt off, barely looking at it as he folded it and put it in his pocket, before turning his attention to you. “What are neighbourly meetings?”

“You know, like when you meet up with your neighbours and, I don’t know, discuss stuff pertaining to your apartment flats, or maybe just play pool?”

Chenle raised an eyebrow. “Did you have that in your previous building?” he asked, walking out. You weren’t far behind, inwardly letting out a sigh of relief when you noticed that the rain had lightened up.

“…no?”

Chenle let out a laugh that had your heart pounding in your chest, youthful and genuine, and you wondered why you had never seen him outside with his friends. If you were his friend, you would want to spend every waking second with him, just to hear his cheerful laughter and infectious joy.

“Then what makes you think we would have it?”

“I don’t know.” You decided not to tell him that Joy had suggested it, and you had never really stopped to consider if it was something that people even implemented anymore.

“I guess we do have something similar, but we haven’t held them in a while. We call them ‘Fifth Floor Film Fridays’, or F4 for short.”

“Sounds a little cringe, don’t you think?”

“Hey, watch your words. I came up with the name.”

“My bad. Didn’t know you were cool like that,” you said, tucking the handle of your umbrella under your armpit so you could raise both hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Thanks. Anyway, Renjun came up with the idea so we could speak to Jisung, since he had just moved into the flat at the time. You know how each floor only has four flats? Well, Renjun and I lived in two of the flats, and there was an old man living in yours. He used to give us candy when he saw us coming back from school,” Chenle reminisced.

“He always had his door open, with only the gate closed as he sat on his rocking chair and read the newspaper. He passed away a year ago, and his children have been trying to sell the flat for a while before you bought it. Either way, at the time the only other kid on our floor was Jisung, but he was shy and kind of awkward and always looked the other way when we saw him in the corridors in school.”

You couldn’t imagine what that would be like. If Chenle ever tried to speak to you in high school, you were sure that you would eagerly reciprocate his energy, even if you were later teased by your friends about it.

“So, Renjun and I talked loudly about F4 when we passed by him one day, and I pretended to remember that Jisung lived on our floor too, and ‘conveniently’ asked him to join.”

“…and it worked?”

“Of course! We just haven’t had them in a while, since, you know, we were all in university. But Renjun and I have both graduated, and Jisung’s never been one for studying, so I’m sure I could tell them to make time this Friday.”

When you didn’t reply, Chenle added, “You’re free then, right?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I am,” you lied. You weren’t sure if Johnny would let you take the time off, but you were sure if you tried to beg, you could probably pull it off.

“Then it’s set,” Chenle said, unlocking his door. You left your shoes outside by the door, padding softly across the floor, too scared to make any noise. Chenle locked the door, then pressed his index finger to his lips in a shushing motion, leading you into the kitchen.

He turned the light on, glancing at the bedroom door, presumably to ensure that his parents hadn’t woken up.

“You can just take a seat,” he told you, taking cutlery and two bowls from the cupboards. You took them from him, setting them on the dining table while he retrieved the various ingredients for the fried noodles and set a pot of water on the stove to boil.

“Last time I cooked for someone else, I was trying to impress someone I had over,” he said, conversationally.

“Oh yeah? How did that work out?”

He shook his head with a quiet laugh. “It didn’t. I just felt the need to cook for them because they only ever came to the family pizzeria to see me, and they would always compliment me on the pizza, but I don’t actually make those. I just collate orders and tell my parents what the customers want.”

Rolling his eyes, he continued, “So obviously, it hurt my ego that they didn’t know all about my cooking prowess. And because I’m so painfully Chinese, of course I subjected them to all the Chinese vegetable dishes my parents made for me growing up. They barely touched any of it because, as it turned out, they didn’t like eating their vegetables.”

“What were they, five?” you scoffed.

Chenle grinned. “I know, right? My parents told me not to invite anyone else who couldn’t eat the food I cooked after that.”

“Oh yeah? And what if I don’t like your cooking?”

Chenle smiled threateningly. “I’ll kick you out without hesitation.”

“It’s good that I’m not picky, then.” You stood up from your chair, walking over to watch Chenle strain the hot noodles and cool them down with ice before tossing what felt like random sauces into the pan and stir-frying the noodles.

“Can I help?”

Chenle hummed. “Not really. I mean, you’re still a guest.”

“Okay.” You watched him from a safe distance, stepping aside when he turned off the fire to allow him to walk towards the dining table and scoop half of the noodles into each bowl.

“Enjoy.”

You picked up your chopsticks, clicking them twice before thanking Chenle for the food and taking a bite.

Chenle, for all his bravado, didn’t move to take a bite until a smile broke out on your face, and he looked visibly relieved when you didn’t criticise his cooking. He began to eat his own noodles, not forgetting to compliment himself, and you agreed with raised eyebrows and a sigh. 

Afterwards, he walked you to the door, waiting until you had closed the door behind you to return into his own house, beginning to wash the dishes.

Meanwhile, you stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror with shampoo running down your neck, wondering how the hell you had ended up eating stir-fried noodles at Chenle’s place at midnight.

Once out of the bathroom, though, you had come to terms with the fact that it was a real thing that had happened, and not just some kind of hallucination. When your hair was dry, you lay down in bed, burying your face into your pillow and screaming.

Then, before you could think too much about it, you resolved to go to sleep.

Blocking was your worst enemy. It always had been for someone like you, who always forgot that the stage had limited space and you all had to move around while being aware of each others’ presence.

You did a cartwheel for what felt like the hundredth time, wobbling on your feet as you tried to regain your balance, hand pressed to your forehead in an attempt to ease the headache caused by the blood rushing to your brain. Johnny glared at you and you realised that you were half a metre away from where you were supposed to be. Still dizzy from the amount of time you had spent upside down, you took a few shaky steps to the yellow cross demarcating the spot you were supposed to be in.

“Stop, let’s take 5. Y/n, you okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I just can't do it full-out, my hands are shaking,” you told him softly, holding your hands out for him to see that they were trembling.

Johnny took one long, hard look at you and shook his head. “You’re taking tomorrow evening off.”

“What?”

“We’re all taking tomorrow evening off, in fact. Let’s make it a long weekend.”

Still confused, you stared at him as he announced it to everyone, gesturing for you to drink water. You came back right after, tapping Johnny on the shoulder as you asked, “Why are we having a long weekend?”

Johnny smiled warmly. “I forget you guys are still young sometimes. You shouldn’t be spending your early 20s burning yourselves out like this. Get some rest, watch a movie or something.”

“That’s what he said,” you told Joy, who had just asked how you managed to get Johnny to call Friday evening off. She smiled, hugging her knees close to her chest as she looked at you.

“He really has a soft spot for the younger ones,” she mused. “So, how are you spending your Friday off? Any plans?”

You laughed softly, thinking about how you’d asked Chenle if there were any neighbours’ meetings you could attend. “I do, actually. Turns out my neighbours do this thing called ‘Fifth Floor Film Fridays’ sometimes.”

“Tacky name,” Joy commented.

“Chenle came up with it.”

“Ah. Then it’s tasteful.”

You let out a snort. “No need for the switch-up. I thought it was pretty tacky too. But that’s not important, what’s important is that I'm going over to his house tonight for it.”

Joy leaned forward, a glimmer in her eyes as she said, “Run it by me. What you’re bringing, what time you’re going to be there, who’s going to be there. Tell me all about it.”

Later that night, you were holding down the lid of your frying pan while you popped the corn kernels you had just bought in a pan full of butter, hoping against hope that it wouldn’t end in catastrophe.

After what seemed like forever, the timer on your phone finally rang, and you removed the lid triumphantly, tossing the popcorn around so they wouldn’t stick to the pan. Luckily, the method you had used seemed to work, and you only had to throw out a small amount of unpopped kernels while pouring the popcorn into an open container for it to cool down.

You washed the pan and checked out your outfit in the mirror one last time before spraying a mild perfume on your wrists and pressing them against the sides of your neck.

Carrying the container of popcorn and precariously balancing a pack of sour strips on top of it, you pressed the doorbell to Chenle’s house, wondering if anyone else had arrived yet.

Your question was quickly answered by the man sitting in the living room, barely visible from the door when Chenle opened it and greeted you with a smile, but perfectly audible as he spelled the name of the movie aloud.

You entered the apartment cautiously, feeling unexpectedly nervous, but your fears were soon eased when you made eye contact with the man sitting on the sofa. He paused his struggle with the remote for a second while trailing his gaze up and down your figure, before breaking out into a smile.

“Hi, I'm Renjun.”

“Hi, Renjun. Do you need help with the TV? Oh, I’m Y/n, by the way.”

“I know,” he replied cryptically. “Chenle’s mentioned you before.”

You looked at Chenle in surprise, and he stared back at you. “What? I had to explain why I suddenly wanted to revive F4.”

Right. So that was all it was. Nothing to overthink about, you reminded yourself. You found a seat on the sofa, holding your hand out for the remote, and Renjun grudgingly handed it to you. “I can do it myself, you know.”

“Oh, I know. I just thought I’d help and speed up the process a little,” you quipped. Chenle let out a high-pitched giggle, squeezing between Renjun and the armrest, teasingly nudging his friend.

“Y/n’s calling you slow,” he said, as if Renjun hadn’t already gotten it. The latter rolled his eyes and rested his chin against his hand in a bored fashion, while you triumphantly displayed the movie that Renjun had been trying to find.

The doorbell rang again, and Renjun got up from the sofa that time, warmly hugging Jisung as he entered.

The tall, lanky man followed Renjun into the house, shutting the door behind him and giving Chenle a wave. Catching sight of you, he stopped in his tracks, tugging on Renjun’s shirt and mouthing, Is that Y/n?

Renjun nodded, almost imperceptibly, and you cracked a smile at their silent exchange. “Yes, Jisung, I'm Y/n. Nice to meet you.” You extended a hand to him, and the introverted man hesitantly took a few steps forward before taking your hand and shaking it.

Jisung set the grapes he had brought down on the table, mouth widening as he caught sight of the packet of candy. “Sour strips? Those are my favourite,” he gushed, reaching one hand out for them. “Can I open them? Who brought these?”

“Yeah, sure, you can open them.”

Jisung turned his big-eyed stare to you, and you found yourself melting in his gaze. “You brought it?”

You nodded, and Jisung raised a palm to cover his mouth. “Ah, really! Thanks.”

You nodded to acknowledge him, and Renjun stood up to turn the lights off, while Chenle turned the television on. Somehow, with all the movement going on, you ended up in the centre of the sofa, wedged between Jisung on your left and Chenle on your right, while Renjun sat on the right-most with his elbow propped up on the arm rest. 

With the cosy atmosphere and the lights turned down low, it was easy for you to forget that you barely knew the other neighbours, leaning forward while stuffing popcorn into your mouth, fully invested in the storyline. You almost forgot that the others weren’t your group of friends, who liked to talk loudly during the movie about the cinematic lighting or the expressions the actors made.

When you made a comment about the delivery of a specific line, Renjun turned to glare at you, but stopped when he saw the way Chenle watched you. A delighted smile on his lips, he watched your expressions like it was more entertaining than the movie, only turning his attention back to the screen once you stopped speaking.

Renjun tapped his finger against his chin, observing you more carefully.

You weren’t making a lot of physical contact with either of the men seated on either side of you, but you were very vocal, unafraid to voice every thought that crossed your mind aloud. You easily matched Chenle’s energy, nodding seriously and fuelling him whenever he started talking about one of the scenes, even when he got to the point that usually Jisung would sigh and smile exasperatedly, reaching out to place a hand over Chenle’s mouth to shut him up.

When this continued for an hour straight, it became too much for Jisung to bear. With a soft cry of frustration, he ran his hands through his hair, scrunching it up in irritation before he stood and headed to the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

Renjun rose from the sofa not long after, following Jisung’s lead into the kitchen.

In a hushed whisper, Renjun spoke to Jisung. “Do you see what’s going on out there?”

“It’s like there’s two of them,” Jisung complained. “We should never have said yes to tonight.”

“No,” Renjun replied. “That’s not the important part. Have you seen how Chenle looks at them?”

Jisung cocked his head in confusion. “No?”

“He looks at them like they're glowing, or something like that. He’s infatuated! I’ve never seen him let someone else speak without trying to interrupt them constantly to say his piece before. It’s almost like he agrees with everything they're saying.”

“Which is impossible, because Chenle never agrees with anyone,” Jisung gasped in realisation. “Do you think there’s something wrong with him?”

“What? No! Ugh, you’re so clueless.”

Jisung pouted, and Renjun folded immediately. “Fine, you’re not clueless. I think Chenle likes Y/n, whether he knows it or not.” Renjun stuck his head out, peeking at the two sitting on the sofa, then nodded to reaffirm his point.

“So… what are we going to do?”

“Nothing.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Renjun sighed, with a roll of his eyes, “That’s how good dramas play out. Sometimes, you’ve got to let the characters figure out what to do on their own. Has our interference ever helped Chenle get into a relationship?”

Jisung opened his mouth to say yes.

“A long-lasting one,” Renjun hastily amended. Jisung reconsidered each time they had tried to set Chenle up with someone, including the disastrous last time when the person they were trying to set Chenle up with only liked Italian food, and never ate any sort of vegetables.

Jisung slowly shook his head.

“Exactly. Let’s just leave them alone this one time, okay? We’ve got to have a little faith in Chenle.”

Almost as if hearing his name, Chenle looked up from the sofa, eyebrows furrowing as he caught sight of his two friends standing in the kitchen and whispering to each other.

He raised one hand, beckoning his friends back, and they set down their glasses and went back to join the two sitting in the living room.

Noting that you were still absorbed in the movie, Chenle leaned over to Renjun and murmured, “What was that all about?”

Renjun shrugged innocently. “I was just asking Jisung how his last year was.”

“I want to know too, why did you guys have to go over there and act like it’s a secret or something?”

“Once the movie is over, we can talk all about it, ok? I want to hear about Y/n too.”

“Deal.” Chenle raised his pinky, and Renjun reluctantly took it, hooking his pinky with Chenle’s.

“Did you never grow up?”

“Nope,” Chenle said cheerfully.

A feeling of dread began to overcome Chenle as he saw you stumbling into his family’s pizzeria with nothing but a six pack of beer and your phone, collapsing at a table near the counter. Business was slow at 9am on a Wednesday, especially since they had just opened, and Chenle found himself swearing under his breath before walking over and sitting down opposite you.

You cracked open your first can of beer, sipping slowly at it while staring straight at Chenle, who couldn’t be bothered to hide his disgust.

“Seriously? It’s 9am on a weekday. What’s got you like this?”

“You forget that my sleep schedule is royally fucked, so this is basically 3am to me,” you told him, one finger pointing vaguely at him.

“And that gives you the right to come in here and drink to your heart’s content? I’m not having you sitting around here drunk. It’s bad for business.”

You smiled bitterly. “What business? The place is empty anyway. I'll be sober before lunchtime, don't worry. The alcohol content in the beer is pretty low, and I still have to go to work after this.”

You managed to gulp down an entire can, cracking open a new one, before Chenle sighed and took the rest away from you.

“Seriously, Y/n, what’s wrong?”

“It’s not about my ex,” you said immediately. “I’m well and truly over him.”

Chenle couldn’t help the pang of jealousy he felt, but he squashed it down, gritting his teeth and saying, “Don't care. Didn’t ask. Don't answer my question with a negative.”

“I can't tell you who it’s about,” you said. “It would be mad embarrassing.”

“You must still be somewhat sober then,” Chenle muttered. “Can I leave you?”

“No.” You grabbed his wrist, and he promptly sat back down. “Don't go. I'll tell you.”

“Okay.”

“It’s about me, selfishly.”

“It’s not selfish to have problems,” Chenle said, trying to comfort you, but you waved it off.

“Don't interrupt. I didn’t ask for your opinion.” Chenle shut up pretty quickly when you said that, so you continued, “I had this conversation a while back with Sicheng. Told him I was scared I was just looking for romance, and that a crush I thought I had was just me trying to push myself into a relationship. But now it’s no longer about not being sure of my feelings.”

Chenle didn’t know why, but some part of him wanted to get up and leave the conversation before he had to hear any more about the guy who had your heart. He didn’t want to hear you talking about some guy you liked unless it was him, because it was making him so jealous he could hardly breathe.

“I’m scared to commit,” you confessed. “I know I like him and I'm fairly sure he likes me back, and I don't know if he knows but I'm scared to tell him in case it all becomes too real for me to handle.”

Chenle felt his heart rate grow impossibly slow. There was, in his opinion, the slimmest of chances that the person you were talking about was him.

And while Chenle had always been an opportunist, he was also practical. He wasn’t about to jeopardise his chances by confessing while you were drunk, especially not when he was fairly certain you would forget the whole interaction by the time it was night. That would be simply humiliating for him, and his pride wouldn’t be able to handle it.

So to keep his pride at least somewhat intact, Chenle only said, “I think you should confess.”

“Really?” You looked at him sceptically, reaching for another can of beer. Chenle would have stopped you a second time, but instead of trying to drink it, you started lining three cans of beer up, stacking another two cans on top of it. Although you tried to place the last empty can atop the other two to finish the pyramid, your shaky hand made it hard for you to achieve the feat.

After three failed attempts, Chenle grew impatient, and held your wrist to steady it while you placed the last can on top of the pyramid. With one hand holding your wrist in place, he used the other hands to loosen the death grip you had on the can, moving your hand aside so the can would stay on top of the pyramid.

You slumped over on the table, staring at your masterpiece happily.

“I like–”

Chenle reached over and placed one finger on your lips to shush you, shaking his head. Chenle wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t to hear a confession while he was working, on a Wednesday morning, while you were half-drunk only a few hours before you had to head to work at a studio half an hour away.

His heart wasn’t ready for it, anyway.

He stood up, left to get you some water, and came back while you continued to stare into space dazedly, forcing you to finish a cup of water before repacking the unopened cans of beer and throwing away the empty ones.

“I appreciate your openness,” he said sincerely. “But I’d rather hear it when you’re sober. I'm confiscating this—” he held up the remaining four cans of beer, putting them in the fridge before coming back to you—”and you are going for a walk with me.”

You followed limply as he took you out, walking one round around the block while you leaned on his shoulder for support. Chenle, having established that you were sober enough to take the bus to your studio, was taking you back to the pizzeria when your phone began to ring.

“Hello?”

“Y/n, I thought you were kidnapped or something! Are you okay?”

You nodded, then remembered that Winwin wasn't able to see you. "Yeah. Why?"

"We agreed to meet up, remember? This is the third time you've stood me up in two months."

You slapped your forehead. Of course you remembered! Just not when you were drunk and trying to confess to someone who had just rejected you because you weren't sober. You cast a glance at Chenle, who raised his eyebrows at you.

"Um, yeah. About that. Sorry?"

“I've literally been to this arcade three times to wait for you already, people are going to start thinking I'm a loser whose date never shows up!"

"Don't be dramatic, Sicheng. Didn't you call Jaehyun to accompany you the past few times?"

“Yeah, after you were a no-show for two hours because you overslept!"

You winced apologetically. It really was your fault, but there was nothing you could do about the past few times. "I'm coming now. Can you hold on for a while?"

“You'd better hurry."

 As you hung up, you turned to look at Chenle, but he was busy looking away.

"So, Chenle–"

Chenle shook his head. "You're still not fully sober yet. I don't want to hear anything from those lips. Go and catch Sicheng, I'm sure he's been waiting."

"Can we... talk about this some other time?"

Chenle nodded. "Whenever you're free."

You weren’t expecting to see Chenle sitting on the step in front of his door, phone in his hands, when you arrived back home that day after a long day out. It had been a tiring day for you, having gone to the arcade and then to the studio afterwards, and all you wanted was to take a hot shower and go to bed.

But there Chenle was, his phone screen brightly lit up, although he switched it off the moment you stepped into view. He flipped the phone in his hands carelessly, looking up to meet your eyes.

You gave him a long, hard look, then headed inside, dropping your things off in your bedroom before taking a shower. Minutes later, you emerged from the bathroom, towel around your neck as you dried your hair, leaving the main door open when you took a seat at your steps, directly opposite Chenle.

No one spoke for a few moments, and it was just the two of you existing, surrounded by an atmosphere of comfortable silence. The stars blinked at you as you stared aimlessly out the side, watching the moon glow dimly, shrouded by the cloud cover.

Finally, after a long silence, you stretched out your legs, your breath whistling softly past your teeth, and Chenle looked straight into your eyes and spoke.

“How’s life?”

There was a certain understanding that rippled through the air—you weren’t going to talk about the almost-confession that had happened in the morning. He probably thought you didn’t remember it, and even though you did, you weren’t going to bring it up. There were some things better left unsaid.

Anyway, if he didn’t want to hear it, it was probably because he didn’t want to reject you twice. You set your towel on your lap, hands clasped, leaning forward as you said, “It’s fine.”

“What play are you preparing for now?”

“Aladdin.”

“Ah.” Chenle was silent for a while, and when you didn’t speak, he asked, “Aren’t you going to invite me to come watch it?”

“Johnny hasn’t given us our allocation of tickets yet, so, no. But I can invite you in advance.”

“Wow. You sound like you’re being held at gunpoint to say that.”

You laughed hollowly. “Sorry, I’m not really in the best mood.”

Chenle scoffed. “Oh, yeah? Then when are you in the best mood? At 9am in the morning?”

“Wow.” You took a long, slow breath and buried your head in your hands. “You’re right. Sorry. I won’t show up like that again.”

“It's not about the business, Y/n. I was kidding when I said that. It’s about me being worried about you. Why do you have to drink all by yourself? Is there no better way to resolve your problems?”

“Now you’re making me feel in need of a drink.”

“Seriously? So that’s just your default response to anyone asking you if you’re okay? That’s fucked up, Y/n. You’re halfway there to being an alcoholic at this rate.”

“Actually, you’re wrong.” You could almost hear the pleading tone in your voice, begging him to please believe you, to please stop being mad over an issue that didn’t exist. “I don’t drink. Today was the first time in a few months.”

It was the first time drinking and not thinking about your ex, anyway. Hence your opening line.

“Then? What’s up with this ex of yours, and why was the first thing you said to me that it wasn’t about your ex? It sounded highly suspicious to me.”

There it was. The real root of the problem, the reason Chenle was acting the way he was. Curiosity and misplaced anger, and if you read far into it enough, a hint of jealousy. But of course you didn’t read into it, because that had never been your strong suit. You preferred to take things at face value, then drive yourself insane over the “what if”s, analysing hypothetical scenarios instead of the body language that was perfectly real.

“My ex and I were high school sweethearts. He was my first and only real relationship, and I’ve never let myself get too close to anyone since. I guess I’m scared to commit, scared for everything to be so real and then to lose another person. Again.”

Chenle huffed a sigh, getting to his feet and sitting next to you. You shifted over, squeezing with him on the small step, and his hand landed on your shoulder. A silent tear rolled down your cheek, and Chenle’s other hand wrapped you in a warm, wordless hug.

“I don’t want to let myself get close, Chenle. That’s why I was drinking today; I was torn between my desire to be loved and my fear of not being loved.”

Chenle pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, listening to your muffled words as you mumbled into his jacket, and he loosened his hug to look at you, eyes trailing down your face.

“Give it a chance,” he said, slowly. “Give loving a chance. I promise it’s not as scary as you’re making it out to be.”

“That’s a great line,” you sniffed, wiping away your tears. “Have you ever considered becoming a playwright?”

Chenle shook his head. “No, but maybe after I watch your rendition of ‘Aladdin’, I might change my mind.”

You grinned weakly. “I’ll do my best, then.”

The screen in the dressing room was black, with Johnny occasionally walking onstage with a microphone strapped to his head. His low heeled boots clicked against the floor, and though the microphone didn’t pick it up, you had heard the sound often enough to imagine it as you watched your director walking across the stage.

Clipboard in one hand and his phone in the other, Johnny’s eyebrows were knotted together as he spoke rapidly into the microphone. Most of it was for the stage crew, so you couldn’t hear what he was saying down in the dressing room, but occasionally you would get startled when he walked back into the wings—presumably going to call the actors back onstage—only to emerge again a few seconds later.

Finally, it was almost time for the show to begin, and you went to prepare in the wings.

”Oh God.”

You heard Winwin’s strangled whisper even with the thunderous applause resounding in the echoey chambers of the theatre, watching the lights slowly dim through the gap between the curtains. You turned to face him, momentarily pulled away from scanning the audience, only to see his face ashen and pale, mouth agape.

”What?”

“She’s there,” he breathed, more like a sigh than actual words.

”Who?”

”Ningning. My junior from university. The one that brought me flowers on graduation day?”

Ah, that one. You clearly remembered her, even though you had only met her once. That specific incident had been a core memory of yours, back when your group had gone to attend Winwin’s graduation ceremony. As a bunch of theatre kids, you were the only ones dressed in brightly coloured jeans and turtlenecks, among the other students in graduation gowns and the iconic black hats.

Jaehyun ruffled Winwin’s hair, and he ducked shyly, hands reaching up to smoothen out his curls. The gel in his hair made this a difficult feat, so he eventually gave up, as Jaehyun laughed at him delightedly.

The commotion only got louder when one of Winwin’s batchmates called for a photo, and the graduates hurried to find a place on the steps, Winwin making his way to the back naturally. Several cameras flashed, and someone yelled for them to stay still while he swapped out his phone for another one, and the chorus of “cheese” sounded once more.

”Shī gē!” A Chinese girl with a bright smile and her hair in a high ponytail came running up to Winwin as he made his way back to you, a bouquet of yellow carnations in hand. “Happy graduation!”

Winwin’s face flushed red at the sound of someone calling him “senior”, and laughter burst out at the uncommon sight of someone chasing after Winwin. Although you would admit that your best friend was rather attractive, his features also made him too intimidating for anyone to approach. In your years of friendship, only one person had made a move on Winwin, and they had been politely rejected—if you could call being dismissed with a confused tilt of Winwin’s head “polite”.

Ducking his head and covering his eyes with his too-long fringe, Winwin handed his phone to you, mumbling something about you taking a photo of them.

A wide grin spread across your face. “Of course!” You cheekily took a picture of them, watching the way Winwin immediately eased up, putting one hand around the girl’s shoulder, holding the bouquet in his other hand. The girl threw up a peace sign and you snapped the shot, returning the phone to Winwin.

“I hope to see you around!” The girl told him, waving before running off, and you nudged Winwin while raising your eyebrows teasingly.

“Senior, huh?”

Winwin buried his face in his palms. “Please don’t call me that!”

“Who is she, anyway?”

“One of my juniors. She came up to me after our performance, said she admired me a lot, and since then she’s been kind of vocal about her crush on me.”

“Ah.” You nodded in understanding. “She seems like a nice girl.”

Winwin shrugged. “I guess. She’s not my type.”

“I thought she wasn’t your type?” you asked, recalling the conversation the two of you had had. Winwin rubbed the back of his neck nervously in response.

“I thought so too.”

You let out a snort, just as the distant clapping in the audience died off and Suzy ran onstage. “Well, you’d best put on a show for her then.”

The curtains slowly parted, and Suzy began reciting her lines, while Winwin stared straight at the spot where Ningning presumably was. “You too,” he replied. “Chenle’s there too.”

It definitely wasn’t nerve-wracking to hear that.

You were definitely cool and collected when your turn to go onstage came, and you did a dramatic cartwheel into the scene, just like you had practised many times before. The blocking that had been drilled into you by Johnny's constant tireless corrections and hours of effort had ingrained itself into your muscles kept you from crashing into anyone, dancing around the “guards” onstage in an intricate choreography that had been practised ceaselessly.

For once, you were grateful for having gotten a role where you didn’t have to speak, schooling your face into the exaggerated expressions you had spent hours practising in the mirror. Your body was your medium, conveying a message without words, moving all over the stage, managing to interrupt dialogues comically without having to deliver a punchline.

You no longer cared about how foolish the costume looked, concerned only with how the play worked as a whole, determined to give your best. Even if that meant acting as a monkey, ignoring the audience’s laughter. It was a testament to how well you were playing the role, you reminded yourself. Their laughter wasn't an indication of how bad you were. Rather, it was the exact opposite.

The two hours passed in a flash, with intermission as your sole break in between. In the dressing room, you had time to catch your breath, drinking water and going into the green room for a bite of the sausage buns that had been prepared beforehand.

Before you knew it, thunderous applause was sounding, your sweaty hands holding tightly onto your friends as you took your final bow. A wide smile broke across your face, triumphant and ecstatic, filled with pure, unadulterated pride.

You had completed it, the play that you had been working so hard for for months.

It was finally over.

The dressing rooms were a mess, with people poking their heads in everywhere. Johnny walked through the corridor in his suit, a proud smile dancing across his lips as he hugged people and shook their hands, congratulating all of you on a wonderful show.

Hasty hands plunged through door cracks, holding costumes and water bottles and other paraphernalia. Winwin poked his head into your dressing room, duffel bag slung on his shoulder, casting a glance at your almost-empty room. Most of the actors were in a hurry to meet their parents, but your and Winwin’s parents weren’t watching the show, so you took your time to pack everything back in your bag.

“C’mon, Y/n, hurry up!”

“What for? Everyone else is having a meal with their parents, but I’m not.”

Winwin clenched his teeth and looked over his shoulder. “Chenle, remember?” he hissed through gritted teeth.

Oh. Right. That singular name had you zipping up your own backpack, grabbing your phone off the counter, and staring at your stage makeup in the mirror.

“I look like a clown,” you complained, as Winwin dragged you outside and up the stairs.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m fairly certain he doesn’t care.” Winwin wasn’t paying attention to you, though, too busy scanning the crowd to take a good look at you.

“There!” You followed Winwin’s finger to where Chenle stood, holding a bouquet in his right hand, his other hand tucked into his pocket as he listened to Jisung. He was dressed in a sweater and black slacks, a stark contrast to the casual clothing you were used to seeing him in, and you felt your chest tighten.

He looked up just as you appeared in front of him, eyes sparkling, one hand tightly clutching your bag so it wouldn’t fall off your shoulder. He took the sight of you in, your heart pounding when he didn’t speak, until he finally said, “You looked better as Abu.”

What? You let out the breath you were holding, about to curse him out, when he laughed, that high-pitched giggle that you had grown accustomed to hearing.

“You should see the look on your face! Here, this is for you.” He pressed the bouquet into your hands, and you received it thankfully, admiring its beauty.

Next to you, you were vaguely aware of Winwin accepting Ningning’s hug, and she handed him a rose that he held gently in his hand, turning to you. With his eyebrows raised high, he looked pointedly at Chenle, silently asking if you were going out to dinner with him.

“Are you hungry? Do you want to get ramen?” You looked down at your white shirt, cringing inwardly, but nodded anyway.

“Sounds good.”

Renjun glanced knowingly at Jisung, teasingly saying, “Good job on today, Y/n. You did well.”

You nodded absently, maintaining eye contact with Chenle, and Jisung nudged Renjun subtly. “What do you say we dip after tonight? Maybe give them some space?”

Renjun nodded in relief. “And here I was scared you’d never catch on.”

The four of you walked towards Renjun’s car, and as you slid into the backseat, you slipped your bag off your shoulder and onto the floor. Once your seatbelt was fastened, you began toying with the flower petals, and Chenle pointed his thumb at it. “Renjun chose those, and it’s a gift from all of us. A token of congratulations.”

“Oh.”

You were sure the disappointment was evident through your voice, because Chenle’s lip curled up into something resembling a smirk.

He leaned over, hand pressed into the middle seat separating you, close enough for you to smell the gel he had used in his hair and the cologne he had sprayed. 

“Why do you sound disappointed? Could it be that you were expecting a gift from me?”

Your brain short-circuited.

You moved away from him, squishing yourself against the window, croaking out a tentative “no”, only causing his smirk to deepen as he backed away, glancing at his phone. “That’s too bad, then,” he remarked, offhandedly adding, “Because I did get you a gift.”

Renjun cleared his throat, making eye contact with you through the mirror before saying, “Seriously, Lele, why are you like this? Stop teasing Y/n.”

“Their reactions are just too entertaining,” Chenle replied.

It was true. Your ears were as red as a tomato, and your cheeks were hot. You averted your eyes, studiously staring out the window until Jisung turned around in the passenger seat and beckoned you to come closer.

“He acts very confident, but he’s nervous too,” Jisung whispered.

“I heard that. I'm not nervous,” Chenle called.

“Yeah, right. I saw you psyching yourself up before the performance earlier. Who’re you trying to fool?” Jisung retaliated, immediately turning on Chenle.

The latter smiled sheepishly, turning away from you and facing the window.

“...and now he’s sulking,” Jisung announced, to which Chenle flipped him off, causing Renjun to laugh, lightening the atmosphere.

“Seriously, though. Don't be fooled by him,” Jisung stage-whispered to you. You shot him a knowing grin and nodded.

Renjun pulled into the parking lot, and you got out of the car, trailing after them.

That was, until you came to a fancy restaurant. Chenle was ahead of everyone else, but you tugged on his sleeve, causing him to stop in his tracks.

“Chenle,” you whispered. “I’m not dressed for this.” You gestured at yourself, forcing him to take a good look at what you were wearing, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What’s wrong? I don't get it, you look fine.”

“I’m dressed in a T-shirt and pants! This is the kind of place you wear a blazer to! Or at the very least, a collared, long-sleeved shirt!” you whisper-yelled.

“Okay, firstly, calm down. Look at what I'm wearing. Look at what Renjun and Jisung are wearing. None of us are dressed formally, alright? Secondly, you look perfectly fine dressed the way that you are. Thirdly, I reserved a room. With a door.” He paused to let it sink in. “So no one is going to look inside and judge you for what you’re wearing, okay?”

“I just feel like you should have told me,” you muttered.

“Y/n, darling, do you even hear yourself? How could I have told you? It’s a surprise! Telling you would ruin the whole point of a surprise.”

You would have retorted, but the pet name that he had called you made you too flustered to respond. You pressed your lips together and looked down to hide the growing blush on your cheeks as you nodded. “M’kay.”

“Okay,” Chenle repeated, opening his hand for you to take. When you didn’t notice, he slipped his hand into yours, tugging you towards the counter. “I have a reservation for four under Mr Zhong.”

“Right this way, sir.” A waiter held several menus in his hand as he directed you to follow him, weaving through the restaurant.

“Keep your head up,” Chenle murmured softly. “It’ll take their attention away from your clothes.”

You inwardly said a prayer that the colour of your cheeks had gone back to normal, lifting your chin and doing your best to mimic Chenle’s confident strides and the relaxed gait of his walk. His grip on your hand tightened momentarily, and just as quickly as he had squeezed your hand, he let it go, smiling at you reassuringly.

“Here’s your room, sir.”

The four of you headed into the room, removing your shoes before sitting cross-legged on the rattan mat.

Chenle handed out the menus, and you took your time to look through it, trying not to think too hard about the price of the food as you looked through it nervously. When no one spoke, you gently tapped Jisung on the shoulder.

”Jisung?” He looked up, and you asked, “Um, what should I get?”

“Why’re you asking me?” he asked with a disbelieving huff. “Ask Chenle.”

“Ask me what?”

“… Nevermind.”

Chenle looked up from the menu, narrowing his eyes. Renjun stood, jerking his head to the side, and Jisung subtly excused himself. You looked at them, confused, but Chenle’s gaze remained trained on you.

”Y/n, are you okay?”

You opened your mouth, about to speak, then closed it again. You rarely found yourself at a loss for words, but at the moment you had no way to express yourself. It wasn’t that you weren’t grateful for the effort Chenle was putting in, but you simply weren’t used to it.

Chenle’s expression softened. “Shall we go back home?“

You hesitated, licking your lips anxiously. Then, you nodded.

”Okay. Let’s go, darling.”

The door handle jiggled as you stood up, and Renjun and Jisung stood awkwardly in the door frame, and Chenle waved them over. “We’re going, enjoy your dinner.”

When they said nothing, he sighed. “Yes, I’ll pay for it.”

Renjun grinned. “Thanks, Lele!”

You only realised that your bag with all your costumes were still in Renjun’s car when you passed the carpark and Chenle didn’t slow down, but the way he slipped his hand into yours made it hard to focus on anything else. You decided that would be a problem for another time.

The restaurant turned out to be near the apartment building, so you and Chenle took a nice, long stroll through the neighbourhood, his gaze fixed on you while you looked anywhere but at his face: the asphalt, the stars, the trees casting creepy shadows on the pavement.

You paid attention to the way the soles of your shoes sank under you with each step, listening closely to the sound of Chenle’s steady breathing and the feel of his fingers between yours, thumb rubbing circles against the back of your hand.

“Y/n.” When he said your name, everything else went silent—from the crickets chirping to the wind rustling through leafy trees, the world fell quiet until all you could hear was the blood rushing in your ears and the thumping of your heart.

“Chén lè.” The silence was excruciating, his name falling from your lips like a promise, a question, an offer all at once. Spelled out in the two careful syllables, pronounced perfectly in the same tones he’d introduced himself in.

He tugged on your hand, pulling you into his embrace, burying your head against his shoulder. There you stayed, tilting your head to the side so you could admire the view of him, the moon casting shadows on his side profile.

“I like you.”

Chenle smiled, and you could feel the way his lips curved up when his jaw moved against your head. “I know.”

“Since when?”

“Since you called me ‘cute’ the first time we met.”

“No. Way.” You pulled away, scouring his eyes for answers. “You’re kidding.”

He smirked. “I’m not.”

“You heard that?”

He shrugged. “You weren’t exactly quiet.”

Oh, hell. You buried your face as deep into his jacket as it would go, the fluffy material muffling your embarrassed mumbling. Chenle patted your hair, still smiling.

”Don’t worry.” When you didn’t move, he continued, “I like you too.”

“Since when?”

“Since the time you woke me up in the middle of the night, stumbling into your apartment, crashing against the gate and falling to your knees. You broke your own plant that time, the one that you keep outside the apartment, did you know that?”

“The one you gave me?” you asked, horrified.

”No, the other one. The one you bought like a month after. Anyway, I cleaned up the broken pot and the spilt soil by the light of my phone torchlight while you watched me, your sleep-deprived self blinking away sleep. That’s when I knew.”

Chenle leaned away from you, tilting your chin upwards, whispering, “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded, moving in to press his lips against yours, wrists behind his neck. His hands found their way to your waist, holding you tightly as his lips moved against yours, soft and tentative and warm.

You sighed when he pulled away, causing him to quirk an eyebrow and ask, “That bad?”

“No,” you murmured, pressing kisses along his jaw. “That good.”

You would have continued kissing him, but he only grinned cheekily at you, moving your wrists away and interlacing his fingers with yours.

Chenle held onto your hand the entire way back, only letting go when you needed to dig into your pocket for your keys. The plant that he had replaced for you still sat on your doorstep next to your shoes, and it held a whole new meaning for you when you left your shoes on the rack and headed inside.

Chenle immediately noted the succulent resting on your window sill, but he said nothing until you stopped short in the middle of the living room.

”Ro…ses?”

The roses had been left in a vase on your dining table with a little bit of help from Winwin, who had asked you for your keys a couple of days before. You tenderly touched the velvet petals, struck speechless by the thoughtful gesture.

Chenle opened a small box, lifting your wrist up so he could fasten a bracelet around your wrist.

”Do you know what shǒu liàn means?” You shook your head. “It means bracelet in Mandarin. But the words for protecting your love have the same pronunciation. Shǒu liàn. Your name is engraved on the band, and there’s space for more charms,” he pointed out.

”There’s a pizza slice,” you commented. He nodded proudly. “And a monkey.” He nodded again, his proud smile growing wider.

“Do you like it?”

You swore you could hear him holding his breath as he waited for your answer.

”Not as much as I like you.”

”Oh, I know.”

And there was nothing else for you to do but to wipe that confident smile off of his face with a peck to his lips that left him blushing.

- fin -

series masterlist

[aemondapologistfrfr]

Anything for You - Pt3

daemon x daughter!reader 

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: The King and the Hand come up with a plan to get you and Daemon to come back to court. Daemon is barely able to contain himself when he lands on the docks of King’s Landing. 

Warnings: 18+ different PoVs bc i was feeling it, swearing, pregnant!reader this chap, coercion into like kidnapping?, the rogue prince fr, death(not mc), blood, swords, threats, p in v

Authors Note: idk why i locked in writing this like i planned to keep it cutesy and i was like wait 🤭 short hair daemon in his armor 🙂‍↕️ i never intended for this to be more than a one shot but here we are 😶 literally stopped writing my other stuff and was sat

Word Count: 3.8k 

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King and Hand PoV

The King and the Hand sit in the empty council chamber trying to figure out the best course of action. Daemon and his daughter have been gone for almost three moons now and the Keep is starting to speculate. There’s been no word from Dragonstone which could either be good or bad. Whispers around the realm speak nothing of the two, leaving the King at a loss. The King looks at the Hand waiting for his next idea on how to get at least the Princess back to court. 

The King has put in his best efforts to push back the prying Lords who were vying for the Princess’s hand. They come around the council chambers and throne room like vultures awaiting her return. The Queen tells the King daily what she overhears from the Ladies and her handmaidens and it’s been causing his temper to rise. 

“Even the Queen is being questioned about their location.” the King sits back exasperated. “I’m at a loss. I don’t know what to do.” he looks at his Hand. 

“I will send out our best men to sail to Dragonstone. If they find the Princess they’ll bring her back to us.” the Hand pulls a blank piece of parchment in front of him. They spend the next couple of hours picking the company to send and decide on having her guard lead them. They hope she’ll take kinder to him and return with the men. The Hand has the King write a note to place in the Princess’s absence for Daemon. 

“If she’s there and we can get her,” the King shakes his head. “Daemon will not take this lightly.” he looks to his Hand with worried eyes. “Might it be best if we just leave them?” the Hand scoffs. 

“He directly disobeyed your commands. As he does time and time again. You are the King. If you can not control your own brother the realm will begin to see you as weak.” the Hand tries not to let his annoyance show. “The Princess’s hand can garner us alliances, armies. My King, it’s never my wish to speak so poorly about Daemon-“ 

“Yet you never seize the opportunity to do so.” the King shakes his head leaning back in his chair. 

“He’s undermining you. He knows he’ll keep getting away with it.” the Hand searches the King's eyes. “I urge you to send these men out at daybreak.” the King exhales at the Hands plea. 

“Fine. See to it then.” the King waves him off. “Pray to the Gods Daemon will see reason.” the King looks to the ceiling as the Hand goes to make the preparations. 

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Your PoV

I always heard stories of how the mornings were unpleasant when carrying a babe but I’ve never felt more at peace. The maesters here say I am the most relaxed princess they’ve had the pleasure of helping with her pregnancy. I know my father is the one to thank for that. He absolutely worships me morning, noon, and night. The moment my eyes open he’s pressing his lips across every inch of my body whispering sweet words. He stays attached to me until I plead him for a break. 

“I’ll go fetch your handmaidens to bathe you and get you ready for your garden walk.” he presses his lips against my brow before slipping out of our chambers. 

I’ve quickly grown fond of my new company of handmaidens here. They dote on me and have a gentler touch than the ladies I left behind in King's Landing. They pour milk and flowers into my bath and keep their hands on me until I’m resting against the back of the tub. After they bathe and lather me in oils and perfumes they pull a flowing dress over my head and help escort me down to the gardens. 

I quite like being on Dragonstone again. I forgot how quiet and peaceful it is. The low grumbles and songs of the dragons bring me such a sense of comfort and I feel truly calm and at home here. I don’t need guards hovering around me and I can walk in the gardens at my leisure. I let the leaves and petals brush against my fingertips. I stop and bend down to smell the lilies that wash over my senses. 

I delve deeper into the gardens and smile when I approach my bench. It sits near the edge of the gardens and overlooks the Blackwater. I lean back and pull my feet under me as I watch the waves lap against the shore. I tilt my head back and shut my eyes to allow the sun to kiss my skin. Its warmth engulfs me and a smile starts to spread across my face when I hear approaching footsteps. 

“I was wondering if you were going to join me today.” I hum turning. My face falls as I see my guard from King's Landing. “What are you doing here?” I tilt my head. 

“Hello, Princess.” he bows his head before clearing his throat. “Your father wanted to surprise you with a ship to bring you back to King's Landing. If you’ll follow me.” he outstretches his hand and I look at it.

“Where is my father? Why wouldn’t he just fly me back on Caraxes?” my brows furrow. 

“He has a couple more things to finish up here and then he will join us.” he nods his head. I study him curiously but I can’t find a reason not to trust him. He’s protected me my whole life, surely he wouldn’t cause me any harm. 

“Okay.” I rise and grab his arm. He sets a piece of parchment on the bench and begins to lead me back through the gardens. “Why are we taking this way?” I look up at my guard and he keeps hauling me down the back steps.

“It’s much faster this way.” his words seem rushed but I shrug this off. 

As we make it to the dock I see a couple other men I recognize waiting for us on the boat. Once I’m on board the boat begins to move back out into the Blackwater. I watch as we move away from Dragonstone and take a seat on the bench watching it become smaller and smaller. I watch as some of the men on the ship clap my guards back and offer him hushed words of congratulations. 

“When will my father join me in King's Landing?” I look at the man closest to me. He ignores me and goes over to the cluster of men causing a frown to form on my face. My chest tightens and I begin to feel alone and foolish for not going to my father first. A tear slips down my cheek at the same moment I hear Caraxes roar ripple across the Bay. 

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Daemons PoV

Daemon had been waiting for his Princess to return for well over thirty minutes now. He knows how she likes her time in the gardens so he didn’t think anything of it at first. He enjoys seeing her so peaceful here so he doesn’t pay it any mind. When an hour goes by he rises from his seat and starts into the gardens. 

He strolls through them silently admiring and keeping an eye out for his wife. He tries to listen and see if he can catch her humming but all he can hear is the breeze through the leaves. When he doesn’t spot her on the main path he starts in the direction of her bench. He curses himself for not starting there but when he approaches he finds it empty. He looks across the Bay before going to turn back to the castle until he spots a piece of parchment. He lifts it and begins to read. 

Brother-

It is not my wish to anger you or fight with you. You are both wanted and needed back at court. The Hand and I have sent her guard and a group of men to sail her back to King's Landing. We have many potential suitors for her that can look past how you’ve sullied her. I have called some Ladies to court as well to hopefully satiate your appetite. I wish to see you come home.

-The King, Your Brother 

Daemon growls, crumpling the note and throwing it in the Blackwater. He curses loudly off the edge of the cliff and Caraxes deafening answering roar comes from out of the pits. He runs back to the castle and makes his way to the doors that lead to the docks. He rips them open and sees the guard standing just on the other side. He slams his fist into his face and his vision goes red as he continues to pummel the guard in front of him. 

“My Prince,” the guard gurgles. Daemon slams him onto the stone. 

“You’ve let my wife be taken from right under your nose.” Daemon repeatedly hits him as the guards movements begin to lull. 

“My Prince, a moment,” guards from inside the castle try to stop him. The last blow lands with a crunch and the sentry goes limp on the stone. 

“Clean this up and wash the stone.” Daemon barks out before storming back into the castle. 

He takes two steps at a time and pushes his way into their chambers. He grabs Dark Sister from the solar and makes his way down to the pits. He quickly puts his armor on and places his helm before walking out on the platform as Caraxes approaches. Daemon grabs onto Caraxes snout and looks him in the eyes. 

“We are getting her back.” Caraxes blinks at him and Daemon takes to his mount. 

Caraxes drops them off the edge before shooting them forward. Daemon stays on high alert looking for the ship that is carrying his wife. The breeze carries them quicker and Caraxes turns his snout slightly and pushes on with purpose. Soon they’re circling above the ship and Caraxes serenades them with his song. Daemon watches as the sails sway and has Caraxes fly higher. He wishes to land on the boat and claim his wife once more and end this farce but he doesn’t know if the ship will maintain its integrity under Caraxes and he won’t risk his wife and their child. 

He curses under his breath and tugs Caraxes in the direction of the docks at Kings Landing. Caraxes circles above the city grumbling and lets his tail trail across the roofs. He makes his way back over to the docks and sees the ship approaching. Caraxes heeds the command to land at the docks and the common folk who don’t move out of the way quick enough forfeit their lives to the rogue Prince and his dragon. Horses and guards break through the crowds and the Hand comes into view. Daemon stays atop his dragon as he looks down upon the man. 

“The King commands you to stop this.” Daemon laughs at the Hand's words. 

“I do not see the King.” Caraxes tail whips closely to the Hands feet. He turns as the boat begins to dock and the men aboard look to the Hand nervously. “Surely, you knew I would come.” Daemon drawls. He starts to slide off the side of Caraxes and lands to the ground with a thud. He unsheathes his sword and points it at the Hand. “You would take a pregnant wife from her husband? Steal her away and marry her to another?” he tilts his head, stalking over to him. “And be daft enough to think there would be no consequences?” he laughs, pushing the tip of his blade into the Hands chest. 

“If you kill me here the King will never forgive you.” Daemon clenches his jaw knowing that the Hand is right in this matter. 

Caraxes pushes the Hand back with his tail and he tumbles to the ground. Daemon turns and stalks over to the ship to retrieve his wife. His brother would be unforgiving if he took his Hand but for the men who took his wife? He could find ten more of them on the street. As he approaches the boat he calls out for his wife and she comes forward with red cheeks. He sees the tears staining her perfect face and how puffy her eyes are. It’s going to take all of his resolve not to burn down the entirety of the Red Keep. 

“Come here, sweet girl.” he hums and she walks up to him and folds into his arms. He rubs her back as he feels her sobs rack through her. Every sniffle has him seeing a darker shade of red. He pulls back and cups her cheeks. “Did these men cause you any harm?” he searches her eyes. 

“No. Only taking me from you and my gardens.” her voice is soft and his nostrils flare as her tears continue to flow. His hand rests on her stomach before he kisses her brow. 

“Go to Caraxes. Hug his neck and don’t look behind you.” she nods her head and he watches as she wraps her arms around his dragon. He takes one step onto the ship and the guards have their swords out in a blink of an eye. Daemon lets the rage take over him and pour out through Dark Sister. As the men continue to surround him he smiles as he slashes and slices through them. He nods at the last man standing who looks at him with a heaving chest. 

“My Prince, I was only-“ his head falls to the wooden floor. 

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Your Pov

I jump as I feel a gloved hand wrap around my arm. I turn around and look up and see my father. My tears start anew and I cling against him. He holds me tightly and presses his lips to the top of my head. He unwraps me from his embrace and helps me mount Caraxes. He wraps a hand around me and holds tightly to the reins and shots us into the skies. My stomach drops as we approach the Red Keep and he begins our descent inside the inner courtyard. 

As we make our way down we see people scrambling to get out of Caraxes path and once they see my father step foot on the ground they run even faster. I hold onto my fathers arm and he begins to walk us into the Keep. He wastes no time taking us to the throne room and upon entering I see the King sitting with a frown. My father takes his helm off and lets it drop to the floor with a thud.

“How dare you take my pregnant wife from me.” I watch as my father stalks toward the King. I shuffle quickly up to his side not wanting to be away from him. 

“Enough of this Daemon. I am tired of the cease-“

“Your Grace,” the Hand bursts through the doors, panting with a dozen guards on his heel. The King dismisses the guards and the Hand composes himself before taking his place next to the King. “He’s killed countless men today on the docks.” the King looks at his Hand with raised brows. 

“What did you expect? You truly thought he would allow this? Did I not warn you yesterday?” the King glares at the Hand. 

“I urge you to punish him.” my father lets a laugh slip out. 

“My wife and I will be returning to Dragonstone. Where we will remain for the rest of her pregnancy, unbothered. If you send anyone else to try and take my wife I will send you what is left of them.” his words are laced with promise and the King continues to stare at us.

“You cannot possibly be considering allowing this.” the Hand looks at the King, taken aback. 

“If we would’ve left them, none of today's events would have occurred. She’s with child. You planned to marry her to some Lord but her babe will come out with silver hair. What else would you have me do?” The King looks to his Hand exasperated. 

“You are the King. It is your choice.” the Hand looks forward blankly. 

“And you are my Hand, my council.” the Kings voice rises. 

“Mm, this seems as if it’s a personal dispute.” my father hums. “We’re leaving.” he dips down to grab his helm while his other hand encases mine and we begin to exit the throne room. 

“I wish to pack a bag. I want some of my dresses and jewelry.” I whisper up to my father. 

“Of course, sweet girl.” he smiles down at me and leads me up my chambers. 

He seals us into my chambers and I walk over to my wardrobe. I turn and give a slight jump as my father is standing there with a bag. I look up to him and slowly take the bag out of his hands. I continue to look up at him and nibble my lip. His cheeks are still lightly flushed and his hair is askew from his helm. 

“What’s wrong?” he tilts his head with a scrunched brow. 

“I think you look handsome in your armor.” I mumur. 

“Is that so?” he chuckles, caressing my cheek. 

“Very handsome, my husband.” I nod my head as his eyes darken at my words. 

“Mm, I quite like that title for me on your tongue.” he pulls me closer. “My little wife.” he presses his lips against mine and I melt into his touch. 

“Thank you for saving me.” I mumble against his lips. His back straightens as if he just remembered today's events and ushers me back over to my wardrobe. 

“I will always come for you.” his words cause a blush to creep up my neck. “Pack your bag so I can take you home.” I quickly pull down a couple gowns and toss them into the bag before doing the same with most of my vanity. 

My father leads us through Keep and the guards step back in his presence. We find Caraxes snapping his jaws as the guards who are brave enough to stay in their stations outside. He dips his wing down and once we’re settled into the saddle he carries us into the skies. My fathers hands are wrapped tightly around me the entire flight back. 

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

I wake in the middle of the night to the hearth still breathing warmth into our chambers. My father has his arms wrapped tightly around me and his breath is tickling the back of my neck. I squirm in his arms and his response is to pull me closer. He presses his nose against my nape and presses his lips against it a moment later. 

“Go back to bed.” his voice is thick with sleep. 

“I want some water.” I trail my fingertips across his arm. 

He slowly unwraps his arms from me and walks over to the table. I admire his nude form in the firelight and watch as his muscles flex as he walks back over to me. I reach up for the cup but he shakes his head and brings it to my lips. I take a couple sips and he sets the cup on the bedside table. I reach out and press my palm against his torso. I trace my fingers over the defined lines and he steps closer.

“I was scared today.” I whisper looking up at him. 

“Of what, sweet girl?” he looks down at me tenderly. 

“That they were going to take me from you.” my eyes start to fill with tears. “That they’d make me marry someone else and take my babe from me.” my voice breaks as I start to cry. 

“I will never let that happen.” his brows furrow and I reach out and pull him closer. “You’re safe. No one is taking our babe. You’re mine and only mine.” he crawls back into bed with me and I tug at his arm until he’s hovering over me.

“I don’t get why they can’t just let us be.” I sniffle as tears continue to fall down my face. 

“They will after this if they’re smart.” he presses his lips to my forehead. “If they try again, I’ll burn the whole fucking city down for you.” he whispers against my brow. 

“I need you, daddy.” I wrap my arms around his neck. He lets out a soft chuckle before placing his lips on mine. His hand travels between my thighs and I spread them waiting for his touch. His fingers slide up my slit and I writhe beneath him. “Please,” I wrap my fingers around his length and he groans, resting his forehead against mine. I guide him to my core as he swirls around my bud. I arch up as he slowly pushes into me. 

“Gods, you’re such a good girl.” he slowly rocks into me as I gasp into his neck. With every roll of his hips he pulls whimpers from my mouth. His hands rest on either side of my head as our lips mash together. He pats my thigh and I wrap them around his waist and he groans into my mouth. He kisses down my jaw and makes his way to my neck to suckle and bite. 

“Daemon,” I breathe out his name and his hips snap into mine. 

“Sat it again, sweet girl.” he purrs in my ear, rolling his hips.

“Daemon, please,” I gasp as his hips begin to fall into mine faster. I rock against him as my pleasure begins to coil quickly. He bites down onto my shoulder and I dig into his. “Daddy,” my toes curl as I fall apart around him. He groans into my neck spilling his pleasure into me. 

His lips find mine and we continue to cling to one another. He pulls out of me and pulls me back against his chest. His arms wrap around me and one of his hand splays across my stomach. He peppers kisses across my shoulder blades while slowly tracking patterns onto my stomach. 

“I love you so much. I will never let another day like today happen. I promise you this.” his arms tighten around me at his declaration. 

“I love you. Thank you.” I scoot back into his chest and hold his arms around me.  

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masterlist 🔌 

and if i say we’re having three more parts of this and two of them are already done - one of them being a prequel to part 1 🫣😏

Part 4

taglist ✍️

anything for you tags: @mamawiggers1980

@clarityisnofun @gabriella-aesthetic @callsignwidow @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @thatgirl101blog @1-fuzzy-squirrels @arya-brooke @ashovertheriver @zanygot7straykidsbonk @moonymoo1 @malfoycassimalfoy @april-notthemonth69 @anaviieiraaa @p45510n4f4shi0n @neocockthotology @thereaderwitch @hardkiddonut @faenyra @hiimava11 @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @fiction-fanfic-reader @povofjustme @multilover19 @alexxavicry @cedstars @fuckalrighty @mrsmunson-harrington @misspendragonsworld @nz2004

[anakinstwinklebunny]

TW: crazy Clayton Beresford because there's so little of him on this app

Author's note: reminding everyone interested about bunnycember :)

You sat on the floor of CLAYTON'S BERESFORD office, your heart pounding with nervousness. The air felt thick in your lungs with everything that had happened between you two over the last year. The sound of soft rustling of papers and the ticking of the clock on the wall opoosite you did nothing to calm your nerves..excitement

You were on your knees, the cool wood beneath you a stark contrast to the heat already building in your core. Between your lips, you held the report you were supposed to deliver..at this point, it was a tradition - you bringing the report in each the most sexual possible way and him in return, thanking you in the most pleasurable, delicious way the boss could thank his devoted secretary

oh, how you loved to be his secretary

Clayton's gaze was heavy on you as he sat behind his massive, sleek desk, his eyes dark with something more intense than any regular business interaction. His jaw clenched, those sharp blue eyes tracking your every moment as you began crawling towards him like a cat. His control was like a tightly wound coil, ready to snap at any moment. The muscles in his arms flexed as he gripped the arms of the chair, his perfectly tailored suit doing little to hide the strenght beneath

He loved to watch you like this - vulnerable, submitting to his silent command without needing a word. It was intoxicating to him - the power he held over you without trying, how he didn't need to say anything to make you do things, even the most disturbing ones

"Come here, sweetheart" his voice finally broke the silence, low and rough. That familiar, dangerous edge sent a shiver down your spine "bring me that report"

Your knees brushed against the floor when you reached the beloved desk and lifted your face to meet his eyes. You could see this familiar hunger in his gaze, how his nostrils flared slighty as you sat up on your knees, our lips releasing the file to carefully handle it to clay's hand

"good girl" he looked at the file that had lipstain of your lipstick you always wore to work before tossing it carelessly on the desk. His large hand reached out, cupping your chin gently, forcing you to keep your eyes on him "Is this how my reports are supposed to be delivered now? On your knees, like the obedient little thing you are?"

You could barely contain the heat pooling between your thighs when his thumb traced your bottom lip, smearing the lipstick over your mouth "yes, Mr.Beresford" you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. knowing how much he loved to hear you call him that

"good girl" he repeated the praise in a low, smooth rumble that seemed dangerously calm. The constant praise made your body tingle all way around with the thrill of it - you were his good girl. He saw you as his good girl..

His thumb pushed between your lips, and on an instant, your tongue twirled around the digit as if it was something else you would have in your mouth

"You like teasing me like this?" you swore you could see him getting already hard "walking into my office, looking like you want me to bend you over this desk?"

"Yes, Mr. Beresford" you whispered before he pulled out his wet thumb in your saliva

this was it.

"Stand up" he ordered

You obediently rose, legs a little shaky as if your whole body already was prepared what was to come, as if it knew perfectly what was about to come. Before you could actually take a breath in, Clay was behind you. His hands were on your hips, tugging your skirt up roughly over your ass, exposing the lace panties you knew would drive him insane. His touch was firm, his fingers digging into your skin as he pressed himself against your back, his hardness unmistakable against your butt

"What am i going to do with you?" he whispered his breath hot against your ear, making you melt, making you gulp, making you feel this delicious excitement mixed with nervousness pooling in your belly

One of his hands slid lower, slipping beneath the thin lace of your panties, teasing the slickness between your thighs with his thumb that just seconds ago, was in your mouth "so wet already.."

you moaned softly, your head tilting back against his chest as his finger slid through your folds, teasing but never quite giving you what you needed

"I've got a meeting in a few minutes" he murmured, pressing a kiss to your neck, then biting down gently, making you gasp "And here you were, on your knees, begging me to fuck you"

"I'msorry, sir.." you whimpered, knowing full well he didn't want an apology

"No, you're not" he growled, pulling his hand away just as quickly as he'd begun. He bended you over the desk, with no care about the papers and other stuff there was. He deliberately made sure your ass was exposed and in a quick moment his hand came down on your butt in a sharp smack, the sting of it spreading through your body like wildfire

you let out a soft cry, the sudden heat making you arch against him. He spanked you again, harder this time, the sound of it echoing through the office

"That's what you deserve, isn't it?" his voice was rough, a touch of amusement in his tone as he watched you squirm under his touch - no pulling away, no crying, begging him to stop - just arching yourself to him as if already inviting him to do whatever he wanted with you, that was your obedience

"You love it when i punish you like this" came out more as a statement rather than a question

You could barely form words, the sharp sting of his hand and the overwhelming heat between your legs making you already dizzy "Y-yes, Mr. Beresford.."

He pulled down your panties in one swift movement, the lace sliding down your legs before he tossed them aside carelessly. His hand came down on your bare ass again, the force of it making you cry out

"If you were mine" he whispered darkly, his hand roughly kneading your red ass cheeks "you wouldn't be able to sit down for a week"

You whimpered at his words, the promise of it sending a shudder through your body. But all you could do was cling to the desk, your breath coming in shaky gasps as he slowly unbuckled his belt behind you, the sound of metal clinking making your heart race. You could hear the sound of his zipper, the rustle of his pants as he freed himself, and then you felt him - thick, hot, pressing against your soaked entrance

He teased you for a moment longer, rubbing the head of his cock against your ass before pushing into you slowly - you were already trembling, every nevr ending on fire as he filled you inch by inch until you were sure you couldn't tale any more

He groaned low in his throat, his hands gripping your hips as he stilled, letting you adjust to the sheer size of him

"So tight.." he groaned, his fingers digging into your plush hips as he held you in place, stretching you until you were gasping, your body clenching around him so beautifully, so perfeclty like always "You feel so damn good, sweetheart.."

"Mr. Beresford.." you moaned, the sensation almost too much to handle

At the sound of his name, leaving your mouth as if you sang a prayer, he began to move, slow at first. His hips rolled into you with a steady rhythm that had you panting even more, eyes rolling behind your head in ecstacy. Each thrust made the desk creak beneath you, and you swore only him could make you feel like this. Like you were on the cloud nine, floating in the air, feeling so light, so perfect

His hand slipped around the front, fingers finding your clit and rubbing slow, lazy circles, just enough to drive you completely insane

"Such a pretty little thing.." he murmured "But so fucking bad, distracting me like this when i have meetings to attend"

"Mr.Beresford--" you gasped, trying to hold onto something, anything (which led to the papers falling on the floor) while he continued to take you, each thrust pushing you cloer and closer to the edge

"That's right baby.." he whimpered, his grip on your hips tightening as he pushed you harder against the desk "Say my name. Let me hear how good I'm fucking you"

"Mr.Beresford..Clay.." you moaned, your voice barely a whisper when your body began to trmeble, the pleasure building to an unbearable level

"You love this, don't you?" his pace picked up, moving in and out of you faster, harder "Love being fucked by your boss, righ here in the office"

His pace was relentless, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body, not mentioning his fingers that were touching your swollen folds. His free hand came down on your ass again, harder than the last time. You could barely think, could barely breathe, yet you still held to not to come until you get permission to - by CLAYTON BERESFORD himself

"come for me baby" finally "Come all over my cock"

that was all it took, all you needed to hear. Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, your body clenching around him when you bite your lower lip to not scream his name out loud - letting only a long, plesant moan. Clayton moaned almost painfully as you tightened around him (not really caring about making noise), his own release following soon after, spilling into you so deliciously before he thrusted one last time, burying himself deep inside you for the last time, as if to memorize how perfect your core hugged his lenght

For a moment, the only sound in the office was the heavy breathing of both of you. He pulled out slowly, his hands sliding over your hips, his touch now gentler as he helped you stand and even dress up. Your mind barely proceded the fact that he's no longer inside of you, but now tenderly helping you dress up on your shaky legs

He kissed the back of your neck softly, his large hands smoothing down your skirt as if nothing had just happened "Now" he murmured, his voice back to its usual calm, controlled tone "we have a meeting to attend"

You could barely think straight, let alone walk, yet somehow you managed a breathless smile "Yes, Mr. Beresford"

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo

[beefrobeefcal]

Malicious Compliance feat. Dieter Bravo & gn!reader

Summary: Dieter is a difficult human sometimes.

Pairing: Dieter x gn!reader | Rating: Teen but still MDNI | Word Count: 813

Content Warnings: obscene amount of money spent on undies, boner, dieter being a little shit, brief mention of past drug and alcohol use,

Author's Notes: for my beloved @perotovar - they gifted me the following:

weirdly particular about his underwear. will only wear brand new ones, out of the pack. that is, when he wears underwear ofc

and I ran with it. apologies for how stupid this is.

Thank you to @strang3lov3 and @jennaispunk for their eyes.

No more tag lists - follow @beefnotes + turn on notifications for fic updates!

This needed to stop. 

You’d gotten a notification for another shipment from NADS for 300 pairs of underwear, totalling just shy of $10,000. 

You stared at the email in front of you, eyes weary, debating if this was really the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. 

*****

Dieter had grown up with parents who enabled every curiosity and quirk he had, both being creatives in the entertainment industry. That, combined with the late-diagnosed ADHD and self medicating with drugs and alcohol for decades, had resulted in some interesting coping mechanisms and fixations. The one currently causing the biggest rift was his malicious compliance. 

“I can’t do it!”, he dramatically screeched from the top of the stairs. He was wearing your feather trimmed housecoat and a speedo, staring down at you with a scowl when you asked him to please wear the ridiculously expensive underwear at least three times. 

“Dee baby -”, you pleaded with him from the foyer below. “Honey, this is getting ridicu-”

“No!”, he barked, picking up the housecoat and marching down the stairs. “No, I have done what you asked and now you’re giving me shit for it!”

“Dieter, I am trying to work with you here.” Your tone grew firmer and louder to match his energy. “But when you spend almost $10,000 on underwear that won’t even last you six months then have a weekly fucking burning party to ‘do away with’ the ones you wore?? It is too much!”

You watched him continue to stomp down the stupidly long, curved staircase, face bunched in frustration. 

“I don’t like wearing them more than once and you said -”, he snipped, pointing at you as he got closer. “- you said I had to start wearing underwear and not go freeballing in public!”

You could hear the pinch in his voice that he got when he was getting worked up (and maybe a bit irrational) over being called out on something. 

You were getting close to being at your wit’s end. Taking a deep breath to try and calm down, you softened your tone, and gently gripped the finger he was pointing at you, pulling and guiding him closer. “Baby - Dieter, I know I asked you wear underwear when you go out, but this is wasteful and -”

Dieter stomped his foot. “Fuck the planet!”

You paused at his outburst and you desperately tried to hide the smile working its way onto your face. Dieter was a lot of things but not being eco-conscious was not one of them. You knew you had to try a different tactic.

“Dieter baby…”, you cooed, stepping closer to him. “I know you don’t like being told what to do, but the paps got a picture of you leaving the gym. In shorts. Mid stride.”  You tilted your head and smiled softly at him. “You know what I’m talking about.”

He sighed, a frustrated release of tension shivered out of his body and he rolled his eyes. “I know! They saw my balls and the tip. But it was just the tip!  No shaft! No pubes!”

You raised your brows at him, letting him know silently that you were not agreeing with him, nor letting him off the hook with that weak argument.

He huffed and stomped his foot again. “Jesus fucking Christ! I just -”. 

But it was all for not; as soon as he locked eyes with you, he groaned, closing his eyes and tipping his head back, then let out a huff as his shoulders dropped. 

“Why can’t I just do what I want?”, he whined, trying to keep his frown from breaking into a smile as he pulled you into his arms. 

You grinned and kissed his forehead, then peppered your kisses down the bridge of his nose and to his lips. “Because you’re voicing a fox in a family friendly movie and flashing people your dick and balls in short-shorts is not good PR.”

He sighed and you could feel him smile against your mouth, murmuring. “You could be on to something.”

You opened your mouth to speak and Dieter took the opportunity to kiss you deeply, his tongue pushing in against yours. He held you firmly against him and you could feel his length hardening against your lower abdomen. 

You knew he knew exactly what he was doing. He knew you’d caught on to his malicious compliance and he was trying to woo you away from poking further at his flawed logic.

Dammit. You loved him too much for it not to work. 

*****

After the 300 pairs of NADS underwear manifested on your porch, you were happy to see that Dieter was wearing each pair more than once. 

But what you were not happy about were the next round of pap photos of Dieter leaving the gym wearing only a huge grin and his underwear - nothing else.

No more tag lists - follow @beefnotes + turn on notifications for fic updates!

[rosepetalkitty]

ngl hdg kinda amazes me in its ability to cater to my kinks pretty much perfectly while simultaneously triggering several of the worst parts of my trauma.

like how is it that it hits on everything i like on the surface, provides semi-decent worldbuilding to back it all up and enable the creation of stories, and even has consistent backstory and stuff, and yet the entire damn thing instills this looming sense of dread and fear that i can't shake enough to properly enjoy it...

below the break im gonna talk in like. moderate detail. about the parts that scare me. so uh yeah be aware that it'll get heavy that's just how it is.

ok, so the worst thing for me. wellness checks. the idea is cute and kinda hot on the surface. "make sure you're okay and if you're not you're getting domesticated" (which is supposed to be like. a happy thing. "now you get to just chill and be happy and get taken care of forever and in return you give me only your submission"). yeah, fuck it, im into that. hell that's not even an uncommon trope in the realm of cnc/mc writing.

except whenever i read an hdg wellness check story (in the sense of those long-ish tumblr posts that people write—i haven't even really considered reading the longer form content on ao3) there's something viscerally... off... about the tone. it stops feeling like kink and starts feeling like a nightmare when things happen to line up just so, and then it clicks, and reminds me that i knew people, real people, who had "wellness checks" happen in real life, except that instead of it being a kink thing that made them happy and was genuinely for their wellbeing, it was that their parents had hired people to kidnap them and drag them to a psych ward when they just needed a therapist. not all of those people that i knew have come home, as far as im aware. some have been gone for years.

and what about the whole idea of the non-consensual part being okay because "it's for your own good". in hdg-land it is. it's genuinely good for you and everyone seems to be happy with it, other than the occasional "bad guy who hates good things" trope (feralists, in hdg, afaik). but that's exactly what they told me when they cut contact between my boyfriend and i while he was in the hospital. "it's for your own good." guess what, it wasn't. his parents didn't like our relationship. they wanted me to forget him. they either didn't understand or didn't care that i couldn't. it was a year and a half before he came home and i had forgotten nothing.

our loss of communication was the tipping point in a series of events that, had i made one decision differently in the end, would have killed me. thankfully i fucked it up and am here today, no longer in that bad of a place may i add. im choosing not to share any of what happened to me directly right now because i don't want to turn this into a full on trauma dump, but suffice it to say there are recurring themes.

it's so interesting to me because in a lot of ways i have found comfort from those experiences in kink and writing. take flames of averon: mech pilots are neurochemically bonded to their handlers. how different is this from what the affini do to their florets? well, you have to sign up to be a pilot, and there's no authority in the world threatening you if you choose not to. even the coalition military wouldn't dare force you to become a pilot against your will, though they might never stop sending you promotional flyers if they find out you're able to tolerate the cyberware /lh

hell, im into cnc. im really into it. i chose to leave it as an opening between pilots and handlers in foa. the implication exists that if a handler tells their pilot to do something the poor thing will have a hell of a time saying no. that's intentional. it's hot to me, on either end. but the safety comes from other things.

yes, your handler has a lot of influence over you at a level that's hard to imagine, but you chose them and they chose you (most of the time), or at the very least neither of you had any complaints to raise with your supervisor when the paperwork came in for syncing your link chips (holly and astrid from seat of consciousness).

yes it's true, you can't be reassigned now that you're bonded, but that doesn't mean you have zero recourse if your handler is treating you badly. if you need to, you can always file paperwork with your commanding officer to request that something be done.

plus, handlers go through a lot of training, which includes screening to filter out people who would actually harm their pilots. yeah, some handlers are a little sadistic, but when it comes down to it they are on your side. if that wasn't the case they would never have passed pre-basic.

put another way, as a pilot in flames of averon, the closest thing ive ever written to a floret, there are a multitude of points at which you could have said no and didn't, and although that's obviously still noncon in the grand scheme of things, it's "signing away your freedom" cnc compared to the hdg flavor of "you 'consented' via it being the best thing for you whether you like it or not."

even if your handler just told you to "stay" for the first time and you're currently panicking and trying to figure out why your legs won't move, you still have some tiny amount of agency—an escape hatch, so to speak—and you'll just never end up having to use it.

and to me, the loss of that minute level of agency which will never be invoked is the difference between "this is hot as hell and feels perfectly safe" and "this is the abuse that was once leveraged against those i cared about, and to some degree myself, and it's simply been repackaged with a kink sticker slapped on."

none of this is to say i hate hdg, it's fans, those who write about it, or even the parts of it which scare me. i do think the idea is hot. hdg is pretty cool. hell, it was one of my inspirations in writing a lot of the pilot/handler dynamics in flames of averon. but it does scare me. and no matter what i tell myself i can't shake that fear.

it's frustrating, because oftentimes fear can be part of what makes something hot, but the particular flavor of fear which hdg instills in me is one which makes bitter all that it reaches. maybe someday i'll grow out of it. the traumatic memories from which that fear stems were only created in the past couple of years, to be fair. but something tells me a piece of that fear will never be fully dislodged from my mind.

so, all this to say, while i am into hdg, it's a complicated relationship.

(and on a sillier in character note to lighten the mood—please feel free to respond to this with roleplay or whatever you like!)

to any Affini out there who might be reading this, know that im not scared of you. im not scared of what you represent. im only scared by the fact that you mimic that which has left the scars you see on my soul today. im not against being taken in as a floret, and none of this is to say that i hold any level of disdain for you.

i only ask that you be gentle with me. what has been broken once can be broken again. please, do not let it come to that.

[ladykailitha]

Around the World Part 7

I know I said that Nanny would be out this week, but I just finished this and am really wanting to get it out as soon as possible and that includes the epilogue.

But if I time it right, this series and Hellfire will end the same week and I'll be able to return to some kind of normal schedule instead of pumping these out on a fucking grinder.

That said, I probably won't do a Christmas story with the way things are right now. But we'll see the closer we get to the holiday.

In this we get the proper Jack the Ripper tour and the author has opinions, okay! Steve draws attention to himself at the Paris Opera house. Murray is a bit too knowing. And of course as @val-from-lawrence guessed, visited the Catacombs!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

~

They had done the Tower of London and St. Paul’s Cathedral during the day and got ready for the Bauman Experience as Murray called it. They all had a flashlight and went to go meet him where they had the night before.

They caught him dealing with some obnoxious tourists.

“Oh thank god!” the Karen cried. “An American. Could you please explain to this woman that we only have dollars to pay with. She has to take it!”

Murray blinked at her for a moment. “Well that is quite the cock up, you absolute muppet. Are you dead from the neck up? British pound sterling is the brass here, you silly cow!”

The woman’s head reared back in shock, clutching her chest. “I beg your pardon!”

“To make it perfectly clear,” Murray said leaning forward into her space. “You fucked up, you moron. Are you really that stupid? Dollars aren’t the currency here, the British pound is. Just like you can’t use the pound anywhere but here, you can’t use the dollar anywhere but America so why don’t you go to an ATM or bank and get it exchanged. Or and here’s the really neat part about living in the age of technology, use or credit or debit card and your bank does the conversion for you.”

When she started sputtering angrily, Murray waved her off. “Now, shoo! I’ve got actual paying customers waiting for me.”

Murray turned to the four of them with a smiled. “Well, hello! Welcome. Now that things are dark and therefore sufficiently spooky, let’s take you on a proper tour of Jack’s slaying grounds.”

He went through the different murders until he got to the double murders of Elizabeth Stride and Catherine Eddowes.

“Now,” he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, “Miss Stride is usually considered his third victim and that he was interrupted, moving on to Miss Eddowes. But I think Stride was a copycat. The person only knew the bodies were mutilated, but not how. So for me, I don’t count her in the confirmed kills.”

Robin nodded sagely. “I don’t either. There was far too little evidence to prove he had been frightened off, because otherwise Eddowes would have been more brutal than it was. He would have been angry he couldn’t finish with Stride. You would have expected her to look like what Mary Kelly’s body looked like, not cool and calm.”

Murray smiled up at her. He turned to Eddie. “I really like her. She’s clever.”

Robin blushed and ducked her head.

A short time later, just as they were wrapping up the Kelly murder, Murray stopped. He looked at a pair of older teenagers and then back at the group.

Chrissy picked up on it first. “You thinking what, I’m thinking, Mur?”

Murray turned to her and cocked his head to the side, considering. He nodded and Chrissy pursed her lips.

Steve caught on just as quick. “Eds, baby. I think those boys may have guessed who you are, love.”

Robin and Eddie shared a concerned glance.

“Fuck,” Eddie huffed. “I liked this jacket.”

Robin grabbed it from him and gave him her jacket. “Mine doesn’t look as fancy,” she explained pulling his jacket on. “Just like Boston, peeps!”

Murray tilted his head to the side and did a quick Google search. “Or... if you’d like, my car is literally around the corner.”

The four of them stopped swapping clothes and looked up at him.

“That’s easier,” Steve said. “Who’s all for easier?”

The other three raised their hands and they followed Murray to his car. Robin sat up front while Steve and Chrissy covered Eddie between them.

“Drop me off at the hotel,” Steve said, tapping on Murray’s shoulder. “I’ll check us out and then meet you at Shakespeare’s Head.”

Murray looked behind him and grinned. “Smart thinking.”

~

Eddie had changed into a trucker hat and a puffy hunting vest over sturdy blue jeans and thick work boots.

“Kids and their cameras these day,” Murray huffed, sliding a pint of beer over at Steve as he sat down between Robin and Chrissy. “So what’s the story with loverboy here?” he asked Eddie, cocking his head to indicate Steve.

“He’s not out,” Eddie said dryly. “His parents are complete assholes who could and would make things very difficult for him if he was.”

“Nothing says asshole parents,” Murray said with a nod, “quite like those that have the money to make you miserable.”

Steve snorted. “You’ve got that right. But I’m more than equipped to make it work.” He half shrugged. “I’ve been doing it for almost a year.”

Murray’s went wide and he gave an opened mouthed smile. “Have you really? I would have never guessed. Good job! ”

“How did you spot the kids, by the way?” Robin asked around her fruity cocktail.

“Oh,” Murray said, ducking his head a bit. “You’re walking around a small group of people at night in a bad area of London. Whitechapel isn’t as bad as it was in Jackie’s time, but it’s still not a good neighborhood. You have to keep an eye out for people, but especially older teens wishing to knock you over for a bit of loose change.”

Steve cleared his throat and ducked his head. “I am about to ask the most bougie question imaginable. And you can tell me to go to hell if I’m out of line here.”

Murray’s eyebrows went up and he leaned back in his chair. “Wha’cha got, kid?”

Steve licked his lower lip as he tried to word this in a way that wasn’t instantly offensive. “How entrenched are you in this job?”

“Not very,” he replied with a shrug. “I’m just moving through the world enjoying myself and taking jobs that would be fun. I’ve got more than enough money. Why?”

“We were talking in our group chat,” Chrissy explained taking over from a very embarrassed Steve, “and we thought we’d offer you a job as main look out and part time driver for when we’re in Europe. You really saved Eddie today and we could really use someone like you with us.”

Murray glared at her. “You sure I wouldn’t cramp your little foursome you’ve got going on here’s style?” He made a little circling motion with his hand to indicate all of them.

Robin shook her head. “It’ll make it harder for people to recognize a quartet if it suddenly became a quintet. Plus, we’d pay for your room and board. None of us are skint, believe you me.”

“We’ll be staying in haunted hotels, motels, and bed and breakfasts,” Eddie added. “But we won’t force you to join us. We can put you up in a nice place nearby and we join back up whenever we go out.”

Murray eyed them suspiciously until Steve slid over an envelope. He picked it up and pulled out a check. His eyes went wide. “That’s quite the pretty penny.”

“That’s half,” Robin huffed, crossing her arms and throwing herself against the back of the chair. “You’ll get the other half once we leave Europe for Asia.”

“All that for a month’s worth of driving you four around and making sure fans and paparazzi don’t find Eddie here?” Murray asked. “Have you gone crazy?”

Eddie shook his head. “We just want a romantic tour of the spooky places of Europe. I hate the thought Steve getting caught up in something just because I’m recognized everywhere I go and he isn’t.”

Murray licked his lips slowly as his eyes narrowed. “That’s not how that’s usually said.”

Steve frowned and tilted his head to the side. “What do you mean? How is what said?”

Robin put her hand on his elbow as he bristled slightly at his tone.

“Usually people will say ‘famous and they’re not’,” Murray said thoughtfully, “he said ‘recognized’. Meaning Stevie here is famous too, but not in a way people would recognize him on the street. What is a famous painter or some shit?”

She cocked her to the side and said dryly, “If I told you that, I’d have to kill you.”

Murray laughed. Just full on cackled. “Have I mentioned how much I like her? Because I really like her.”

Eddie leaned forward to put his elbows on the table. “So what do you say, Murray?” he asked tilting his head to the side. “You want to work for me again?”

Murray slipped the check into his coat pocket and stuck out his hand. “I think you’ve got yourself a deal.”

~

Their first stop on the Continent was Paris and the catacombs. Eddie was still trying to figure out how Robin did that one. It had been closed to the public for years.

Robin just smirked and said, “Well we aren’t the public.”

Steve was also sure they didn’t open it up to anyone who opened their wallet, either, but wisely stayed silent. Plus he was having fun watching Chrissy and Robin run circles around Murray in terms of sheer knowledge.

“Um...Stevie?” Eddie murmured so the trio couldn’t hear him. “Can I hold your hand? It’s getting a little creepy in here.”

Steve held out his hand, the one that had the little guitar on the inner wrist. Eddie looked down at the offered hand with a fond smile. He took the offered hand and their tattoos matched up. Eddie felt braver with every step knowing that Steve would always be there to hold his hand through the darkness.

Chrissy looked back at them and grinned at their clasped hands. She sped up her walk just a little, forcing Murray and Robin to speed up to match her pace, leaving the two love birds the privacy they so richly deserved.

Once they were out in the sunlight and among the city once again, Eddie refused to let go of Steve’s hand.

Steve looked at their joined hands and then back at Eddie. Eddie gave him his brightest smile and Steve was smitten. Even more so than before. He just loved him so much.

They toured the Paris Opera house and Eddie pulled out a cape and mask.

“Sing for me my angel of music!” he said to Chrissy.

She burst out laughing. “My name may be Christine, but I really don’t think they’d want me shattering the glass.”

Eddie turned to Robin who waved her arms in front of her. “No way! I sing like a frog in heat!”

“No.” Was all Murray said.

Steve raised an eyebrow and Eddie grinned.

“Sing!” Eddie crowed.

Steve took a deep breath and belted out that high note, held it perfectly and then took a bow.

Murray blinked and slow smile spread over his features. “You’re in one of those bands with the masks aren’t you? Like Sleep Token or The Fallen, huh? That’s Eddie here said recognized and not famous. Good on you.”

They all shared looks of concern.

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” Murray huffed, holding up his hands in surrender. “And I’m certainly not even going to try and guess which band it is.” He pulled out his phone and messed around on it for a while.

During which they all watched with ever increasing dread. The silence seemed to stretch out on and on.

Then Chrissy’s phone pinged. Everyone jumped as she scrambled for her phone. She opened it up and blinked a moment.

“You signed a blanket statement NDA?” she asked handing her phone to Robin. “Why?”

Murray licked his lips and crossed his arms over his chest. “Did it suck when Corroded Coffin pulled out of my management causing a shit ton of other people pulling out, too? Sure. But that’s the nature of the business. One that I had been in for over twenty years. I took it as a sign from the universe to retire and enjoy my life. Unlike the CC boys pulling out on Nancy Wheeler because she about to do some pretty shady shit. And I say that having been part of a business that used to be built on shady ass shit.”

Chrissy coughed and looked away to hide her smile.

“I’m guessing Steve’s band is why Corroded Coffin went nuclear on her in the first place?”

Steve looked over at Eddie and then nodded. “She was an ex-girlfriend and she tried to hold that over my head to get me to work with her.”

Murray let out a long and low whistle. “Shady doesn’t even begin to cover that shit. The void would be fucking closer. Shit.”

Robin handed back Chrissy her phone. “How did you get an NDA that fast anyway?”

“Oh that?” Murray asked with a huff of laughter. “I have a bunch of basic contracts and shit in my Google docs. Things can move fast in this business and it’s a good idea to keep a few on hand. Back in the old days we kept them in our briefcases that we carted around. This is sooo much easier.”

“Smart.”

Murray grinned back at her. He turned to Steve. “Come on, show us what that classical vocal training can really do.”

Steve blushed and began warming up his vocals as Robin grinned.

“You may think you’ve heard Steve sing,” she crowed, “but you’ve ain’t seen nothing yet.”

Then Steve really opened up and began to sing. There was a deepness to his voice that didn’t have anything to do with his range. He was clearly a tenor, but the rich quality to his voice just elevated it somehow.

“Rigoletto,” Murray said nodding appreciatively. “Well done.” He clapped slowly, but it wasn’t mocking. “Your parents must have been livid when you didn’t go into opera.”

Steve snorted. “About as angry as when they found out I was bisexual. They know what I am but if I go public with it...”

“They’ll make your life a nightmare?” he asked. Steve nodded. “I feel for you, kid.”

He looked around and grimaced. “I thick it’s time we make like Opera Ghost and scram. That performance of Steve’s here, is getting more attention than I thought it would.”

They looked around and sure enough there were people pointing at Steve.

“I’m not sure what the Venn diagram of opera and metal fans,” Chrissy said, “but I’m betting it’s not two separate circles.”

“Yeaahhh,” Eddie said with a wince.

He grabbed Steve’s hand and they ran for the doors. Murray and the girls hot on their heels.

~

Tag List: CLOSED

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10- @sadisticaltarts @urkadop @chameleonhair @clockworkballerina

[obeymeshallwedateaddict]

Hey.

First.

I love all your writing, they r fun to read and they make my day brighter ✨✨

Really Appreciate it.

Here is the request:

I wanted to request Solomon

We all know that his an old man ( whom we love so much ) and his based off the character from the Bible king Solomon.

If Solomon having 700 wives were true what would it be like

If MC and Solomon end up arguing over something stupid, MC just goes," Then am one of your collections to ? That's all I am to you! Right" something like that 😭

That line was horrible but something along those lines

It can be angst and fluffy.

Thanks a bunch! Wishing you an amazing day ahead!

Heyyy I absolutely love your request cuz duh. They make Solomon and the others seems like there was nothing before MC which is unlikely. Like I mean I'm pretty sure all of them had a few relationships before MC at some point or another. Anyway. Enjoy!

Author's note: I'll be posting short stories for the next few days since I'm working on a bigger story this time which will take a while. Hope it's not a problem.

Contains: Angst/Fluff

GN!MC x Solomon

You can find more of my work here: Masterlist

---

MC and Solomon had agreed to spend the evening together—just a quiet, uninterrupted night. But Solomon ended up running late, engrossed in some old spell or magical artifact he was researching, losing track of time. By the time he shows up, MC’s already feeling hurt and dismissed, thinking he prioritizes ancient things over their relationship.

MC: arms crossed, eyes narrowed as Solomon finally enters the room “Oh, look who finally decided to show up.”

Solomon: sighs, looking tired but trying to be calm “MC, I told you, I lost track of time. It happens. You know how important my research is.”

MC: “And I thought we were important too, Solomon. I’m not asking for much, just…a single night where I don’t feel like I have to compete with some dusty book or enchanted artifact.”

Solomon: growing defensive, a slight edge to his tone “It’s not a competition, MC. You’re acting like I’m choosing my work over you on purpose.”

MC: voice raising slightly, hurt “Well, that’s how it feels! You make these promises, but when it comes down to it, I’m always the one waiting. Why is it so hard for you to just…be here?”

Solomon: frowning “I’m here now, aren’t I? I don’t see why this has to be such a big deal.”

MC: glares, feeling even more hurt by his dismissive tone “A big deal? Maybe it wouldn’t be if this didn’t keep happening. You say you’re here, but half the time, I feel like I’m just a…just a side note in your never-ending list of priorities.”

Solomon: sighs, crossing his arms defensively “MC, I care about you, but I also have responsibilities—things that existed long before we ever met.”

MC: hurt, finally snapping “Oh, here we go—‘long before we met.’ That’s just it, isn’t it? This isn’t even about tonight; it’s about me realizing that I’ll never be more than one part of your centuries-long collection!”

Solomon: taken aback, not expecting that turn “What? Collection? MC, where is this even coming from?”

MC: “You probably don’t even see it, do you? How easy it is for you to just…move on, like I’m just another person you’re adding to the archive of your life. You’ve had 700 wives, haven’t you? Well, I guess I’m just another one for the record books, huh?”

Solomon: eyes widening in hurt, tone softening as he steps closer “MC, that’s not even fair. Those stories…they’re just stories, memories from lifetimes ago. I don’t know what I’ve done to make you feel like you’re ‘just another one,’ but believe me, you’re not.”

MC: arms crossed, looking away, voice trembling “It just…feels like I’ll never really matter to you. Not when you’ve had hundreds of people pass through your life like it’s nothing.”

Solomon: reaches out, resting a hand on MC’s shoulder, his tone soft and sincere “MC, I know my past seems…well, complicated, but I need you to believe that this is different. You’re not just part of my history. You’re the person I want in my present, and my future.”

MC: sighing, though still a little guarded “Then…show me, Solomon. Prove that I’m more than just a ‘number’ to you.”

Solomon: nodding with a small smile, determined “Every day, if that’s what it takes. I promise.”

[dickarchivist]

I've got you

Clone OC Banshee × GN-Reader

Word Count: 727

Prompt: "back hugs" from @littlemissmanga and "comfort fic for nonverbal reader" from @nika6q

Song: Get You The Moon by Kina (feat. Snøw)

Rating: PG, but as always Minors DNI 🔞

Contents and Warnings: hurt/comfort, light swearing, Banshee kicks a door down in the name of love.

Summary: It's been a long time since Banshee's been home, and the stress of life has you overwhelmed at the worst possible time: right when Banshee gets home.

Author's Notes: another Banshee POV!!! Some hurt/comfort this day. Sorry it's so short, and not at all what I've been saying I'd write next, but at least it's something.

Taglist: @returnofthepineapple @wizardofrozz @eclec-tech @dystopicjumpsuit @clonethirstingisreal @wings-and-beskar @multi-fan-dom-madness @starrylothcat @n0vqni @sev-on-kamino @mythical-illustrator @523rdrebel @littlemissmanga @atomickidsoul @moonwreckd

"Hey Ban~ Today is day 43 of our tragic separation, you're millions of miles away, and it's not fair. So today at work..."

"Day 55 of "No Banshee hugs for me". Seriously, when are you coming home? I miss you. Anyway, my Tooka came back from the vet today- oh right, I adopted a tooka kitten yesterday, I bet you can't guess what I named him-"

"Day 97, Rai told me you miss me. I just... I wish I could hear it from you. I know, I know it's not easy, I know you don't talk, I just-- I'd do anything to have you with me, just so I could understand that you miss me..."

"Day 122... I wish you'd come home..."

I've been listening to your recordings every day since I was deployed. All 132 of them. Every single day since we left, you sent me a diary of your day, stars I can't tell you how much I needed every single one of those. Running through battle fire, hearing you laugh about what "Banbino" was doing. I can't believe you named your tooka after me.

I've thought about you every second of the days. How your hair is tossed in the morning, how you scrunch your nose at how I make Caf... don't be mad, but I still haven't learned how to make it proper. The way your voice sounds and feels when you put my hands on your throat and chest, so I can feel every way you say you love me... I've thought about being with you again since the second I turned to leave 132 days ago.

So why am I stuck behind your front door? I can't even raise my hand to knock. Can't even enter the code to your flat... it's my number, you told me that so long ago now... I've been keeping track, I know it's your day off, I know you're just right behind this damn door so why can't I open it!? Come on Banshee! Open the door! Open the damn door, they're right on the other side, just open--

I... I heard that. Did you fall? Are you hurt? No, no don't be hurt I'm so bad at medical. C'mon, karkin' door open! Remind me to fix your locks, I'll replace them, I swear. Oh fuck, the hinges too, I uh... I kicked a little too hard, I think...

"Ban...?" You're crying... why... why are you crying?

When you hold your arms out to me, I dont even take a full step forward before you recoil and cover your face with a racking sob. I don't stop moving. I can't, you need me. I get to one knee behind you and gently rub your back, but it only makes you curl in on yourself more... what can I do for you?

Carefully I sit behind you, and collect you up in my arms, your back pressed to my chest. With my helmet off, I put my head on your shoulder, "I've got you, Cyare... I'm here."

You sound like me a moment, trying to talk, trying to force words. I shush you, leaning my head on yours and swaying softly. Eventually, you turn around, and bury your face in my neck. When I hum, you start to relax in my arms, and eventually, I can't help the little chuckle in my throat. You're snoring... Stars I love you.

It's another hour before you wake up. I moved us to your bed, and had since changed into the civvies you'd gotten me. Softer clothes, I figured you'd like it more than my hard armor...

"Banshee? You're... you're really home? I'm s-sorry, I'm sorry for-- I-I was just- I was so--" your blush when I press my lips to yours, it's so warm I could feel it on my own skin.

"I... it's okay, y-you don't ha-have to expl-pl-plain." Your eyes shine at the sound of my voice... I wish I could talk better, I'd speak for you all the time. "I've g-got you, Cyare."

You nod and set your head back on my chest. As I hum again, you join in, mumbling the words under your breath when you feel up to it. Take your time, Cyare. I know how hard it is to talk, I'm not going anywhere.

[procyongaaay]

That reminds me of back in the day when I worked at a pawnshop. Had a customer come up and wanted to pawn something, and was in a hurry, didn't want us to do any of our standard procedure checks. I was jewelery department head, and had trained folks well in the "if you don't know what you're doing with gold I put it through and I'll walk you through it, no fuck ups".

So I hear this guy rushing one of my guys telling him "I'm in a hurry (owners name) knows me just put it through" and I just got back from break and was like "he doesn't have authorization to do so, I need to check any gold that's not been through before over a certain value, he's just following protocol. I'm here and can check your items" and he started getting mad like "oh so now everyone is gonna come in and handle everything? What you never seen gold so you wanna touch the real thing? Do that to someone else does being in a hurry mean nothing to you people?".

I take one look at the chain he's trying to pawn, haven't even touched the thing and say "sir, is this the first place you're trying today?"

And he's like "no the guy down the street wouldn't give me what I need and it's more than worth it what's with the fifth degree?"

And I'm like "oh so he told you it's not real gold and you tried to come here to sell it, is that it? Are you knowingly trying to defraud us? You know we have security cameras and do press charges if we know you're knowingly trying to defraud us."

And instantly he's like "no I didn't know! I swear! I thought it was real! He offered me $100 and I needed $250 for gas to Toronto and back this weekend, I swear! I didn't know it was fake!"

And I'm like "sir I know the guy up the street I used to work with him, if he offered you $100 for this junk I need to send a wellness check his way this is clearly not real gold and I could have told you that from across the room. Bullshit."

And this dude has the absolute nerve to be like "well even if it's not gold I'm sure it's worth something. Maybe you could sell it as gold to someone else and pocket the rest or something. Please I need the money."

And I had to look this dude in the eye and say "so not only are you knowingly trying to sell me fake gold, your suggesting I cheat people out of their money, you're straight up admitting you're not coming back to pay back a loan, and you're trying to make me complicit in this? Not only am I not buying this, if you don't leave immediately I'm calling the cops."

And the dude starts yelling "I'll tell the cops you swapped my real gold for fake and are trying to cheat me! I'm an upstanding local businessman, it's my word versus yours and they'll never believe a dirty pawnbroker over someone of my status!"

At which I had to say "first of all dumbass, once again there's security cameras, WITH sound that have captured this entire interaction. Second of all, look behind you. Say hello to officer (name), who just witnessed the entire thing WHILE IN UNIFORM cuz you're too fucking stupid to look around before being loud. You are banned from this establishment and if you dont leave immediately we will press trespassing charges."

And this dude had the fucking GALL to grab a guitar off the wall, THROW IT AT ME, and then try to run. Didn't get 3 steps but like my fuckin dude you just saw the cop not 5 steps behind you how fucking stupid do you have to be?

Needless to say he did NOT make it to Toronto that weekend

I wanna know about the guy you were talking about if no one else does lol

Spill the tea

Okay so like

If you get randomly pinged by the metal detector, we have to do everything that may have alarmed along with those additional procedures.

If you are carrying a baby with you, your baby is not exempt from security protocols. This is because terrorists don't give a shit about using kids and babies as bomb plants, not because we're soooo mean or whatever.

This guy came through the metal detector carrying his baby and beeps for both metal and a randomizer ping. I tell him sorry mate, the moment I see that, I have to do everything with you and your baby, you don't actually get any do-overs if you're pinged.

This guy instantly started screaming at me. Like top of his lungs screaming at me that he's not letting me touch him or his baby because "I dont know where you freaks have been." He's freaking out so hard, screaming that he refuses to "put up with this," calls me diseased, and then out comes "I need to protect my daughter from filthy cunts like you"

At this point I simply put the scanner down. I make eye contact with the officer at the end and point to the guys wife to round her up to the metal detector, and I tell them "because of your behavior, none of you are flying today. So you can either get out of my checkpoint willingly, and go back to your check in counter and explain to them that you cant behave yourself for a basic security check, or I can have the RCMP escort you out with permanent consequences for all future travel endeavors."

These fucking idiots still had the balls to argue with me. My supervisor was rounding the corner at this point and asked what was going on here. I told him this guy just called me a filthy cunt in response to a basic protocol and as such I am refusing the entire family their flight today, and they're choosing to argue with me instead of going willingly.

Supervisor takes out his phone and dials the RCMP and tells them we need an escort for a group of unruly passengers. This time, the switch flips with them. Oh, suddenly we're being so mean and unreasonable. Theyre having a bad day, please reconsider. I say "no, you ALL lost that right when you decided to scream personal insults at a security guard. And now you're going to wait right here with me until the RCMP brings all three of you out."

And they did exactly that, with the husband and the wife sobbing to a federal officer that they didn't mean it like that (what the fuck DID you mean it as?!) and to please oh please reconsider 🥺 they'll be so niceys this time they prommy they prommy!! 🥺🥺

I did push my luck a bit by waving them goodbye with a big smile and saying "have a nice day~!" in my old customer service voice while this escort was happening, but we don't have to tell my supervisor that.

[doodlejoltik]

my favourite writing device is having an un-Rei-liable narrator

[volfoss]

it is beyond infuriating how anne rice seems to insist on marius being a positive force in anyone's life ever. like she can't fully commit to exploring the fact he groomed armand and has repeatedly taken away his consent for what marius thinks is best (take the end of TVA as an example) and just kind of flatly puts it in the narrative. there's not really much interest in how these horrific events make marius come across as the worst because EVERYONE loves him. for gods sake, lestat learns from armand exactly what marius did to him in TVL and then proceeds to go find marius and be super friendly to him in the same fucking book. even armand and pandora, two of the people who have MORE than enough right to hate him, do not. it doesnt feel like shes trying to explore the toxicity of the abusive dynamic he traps them in, it just is there. and like yeah ofc the toxic vampire romance series but i think that this should be handled with more care. and it is not ever really framed in a way that she is interested in exploring how marius should easily be one of the most horrific characters in this series because it kind of feels like sa/rape/grooming/other things of that sort are just put there to further plot and not to really get the respect that they deserve in a medium.