#Even My parents knew that the ‘crushes’ i had on boys as a kid were forced

[moltenhair]

It's funny to be an adult who didn't realize they were queer until they were grown. Turns out those "crushes" on the cool boys weren't crushes. It was gender envy, but I didn't have the vocabulary to convey that

[chartreuxcatz]

*blinks*

Bro, idk what I am.

[mynameisjag]

Because I just remembered, as author, I have power to do whatever the hell I want in fanfiction. The only powers in the universe that can stop me is my terrible ADD and terrible sleeping habits.

It’s a sequel to ‘Mistaken for Wolverine's and Wade's possible kid.'

There was a possible feral child running around with claws and a smart mouth.

“We'll take him home, keep him in the bathroom for a little while so Laura can get used to his scent and then slowly introduce them to each other.”

“…they aren’t cats…”

“Right, weasel family, close enough.”

Logan rolled his eyes with grunt, the smell of crushed ice and iron filling his nose, they had been following the kids scent for awhile now, enough for a quick change out of uniform to throw on street clothes.

Wade had thrown on an over large sweater with the hoodie pulled up with a face mask and glasses, Logan himself was dressed in one of his flannels.

“We look like the Unibomber and the Bounty Paper mascot have decided to go on a date at the local market.”

They were close, the tracks had lead them to a more public place, a small outdoor fruit market, but there was no sign of white hair anywhere. Though that didn’t matter if the kid could go invisible.

They were close though…

“So what’s the bet that baby wolvie can change his appearance to fit in?”

“Hmm?”

Wade nudged their shoulders together as he gave a subtle nod over to the next stall, black hair, blue eyes, different clothes…but the smell remained the same…

“Oh, boy, whoever made this designer baby knew what they were doing, still has those sharp claws and cute little fangs you both share. Congratulations to us? What we naming him?”

“Wade.”

“Right, assuming gender, my apologies.”

The man actually snorted in brief amusement, getting what he knew was a wide grin even if it was covered up, he rolled his eyes as the usually red covered merc grabbed his bicep, “He could be a Void escapee, I don’t smell any other human smells on him, let’s stay up wind right now.”

Wade gave the arm he was attached to a small squeeze, “Led the way Mr. Paper Picker Upper.”

They moved slowly through the crowd, eyes on the kid but still keeping a distance incase he picked up the super senses trait.

Lightly clawed hands were picking up apples, sniffing them then placing them down, head would tilt and the ears would twitch, he was still listening for any kind of disturbance. Eyes would focus on a fruit, then dart to the side, still wary and still watching out.

“The face shape and features are the same…need better proof though.”

“Lucky you and the need for the plot to move forward, looks like someone has itchy knuckles and a case of peekaboo.”

Sure enough, one hand was rubbing at the knuckles were a slight sheen glinted in the sunlight before disappearing.

The kid was frowning down at his own hands, distracted enough to not notice Wade casually stroll up behind him, “Baby boy, is that you! You’ve been gone for two years! We thought you were dead!”

Logan sighed tiredly, accepting his fate as he watched his partner throw his arms around the child in a crushing hug, wailing dramatically how they would be so much better parents now, they would support his interest in professional knitting and how dare he leave with a note written in cursive.

Phones were out, people were clapping over the tearful reunion, the poor kid looked shocked to be manhandled over to him by Wade.

“It’s your Daddy, I know he is currently cosplaying a lumberjack, but he’s still the asshole we love.”

Logan could only shake his head, letting out a huff before staring down the kid, “Ready to have that chat?”

Bright blue eyes glared up at him on a level of unimpressed that only teens could reach, “I don’t know, are you ready to go save Goldilocks, I think you better go off and get lost in the woods looking for her.”

“Oh, he is just the Sassiness! He gets it from me, I swear! Just an absolute deee-light!"

[reidmania]

cinema seven | s.reid

summary; spencer goes to see a movie in cinema with derek, when cinema seven breaks down, he offers to help the pretty — all too stressed manger (who he has been too nervous to ask out) fix the projectors.

warnings; guys this fic is actually just for me. cinema manger reader, fem reader, they lowkey break rules but we don’t talk about that, probably boy band haired reid and ooc spencer bc they flirt or banter idk, fluff!! So much fluff!!spencer has been pinning for a while

an; i am a cinema manger 😐 cinema seven is making me want to die because of the bloody projectors breaking constantly. this is probably soo ooc, and also like uncorrectly timed bc it based off how cinema’s are now, not how they were. Whoops. this has been in my drafts for weeks and i hate it.

Dimly low lights lit the theatre room, couples, families and other guests filling the space of the soft red velvet chairs set aligned, finding their seats as the advertisement’s played over the big screen in front of them, the stairs lit with small red lights to ensure everyone knew where they were going, and to ensure nobody missed a step under the dim lit lights.

The room smelt strongly of sweet buttered popcorn, and whatever antiseptic spray had been used to wipe down the cupholders of the seats when being cleaned in between movie sessions, the smell sent a small wave of reassurance over Spencer.

Spencer had never been a massive fan of cinemas, he preferred watching his documentaries or show’s from his couch at home, curled up in blankets, in an area he knew was completely sanity, away from the public and in his own space. However, lately Derek had been inviting him to the cinema more and more after he agreed the first time.

He didn’t necessarily mind, and he knew why Derek had continued to invite him — which was the reason he didn’t mind so much. The first time they had come to the cinema apparently they had picked a bad time, since it was absolutely packed the minute they arrived.

Thats when Spencer had seen you, working on one of the till’s. He had been to the cinema before, but he had never seen you before. As they got closer and the queue shortened, he was able to read the small ‘manger’ badge that hug off the lanyard around your neck.

Explained why he hadn’t seen you at the front before.

His palms had grown clammy as the line grew shorter, whatever Derek had been talking about was completely lost on Spencer, his gaze was locked on your pretty face smiling at a young kid who — spencer assumed — was blabbering about something, hardly coherent over the noise of the people around, but you smiled and nodded none the less as you handed the parents boxes of popcorn.

That was the first time he went to the cinema’s with Derek. Derek had watched the boy stumble over his words as he spoke to you when you served them, cheeks flushing and his gaze never meeting yours for two long. You had laughed and told him to take his time as you wiped down the benches, listening intently. He had taken note of the way you juggled tasks all at once, making popcorn, serving, cleaning.

He had been three times since, the second time wasn’t with Derek, and he honestly didn’t really want to see a movie, he just wanted to see you, unfortunately you weren’t working and he was left seeing a movie he didn’t actually want to watch.

Derek teased the boy endlessly, about his cinema crush. Which was why him and Derek were here now. Again, a movie Spencer had no interest in, but it was busy enough that you would have to be working tills. That was enough to justify seeing a boring film to Spencer.

He had seen you, you had served them and when you smiled widely with recognition of their faces Spencer felt like he was about to pass out with how hard his head was beating. Now he was sitting in the cinema, next to Derek who was shovelling handfuls of popcorn into his mouth before the movie had actually even started.

It was only about five minutes into the actual film when the sound had dropped out.

It was another five minutes before people started talking, before someone had stood up to leave the cinema. Then another two minutes before a worker — not you, a different one, came in and looked over the screen before talking into a hand held radio.

People were growing frustrated, annoyed and restless in waiting. Fair enough, no one really wanted to see a film with no sound. However what made Spencer pinch his eyebrows together with a frown is when you did walk in, and there was someone else standing, obviously taking their frustration out on you.

Spencer looked at Derek, who looked at him at the same time, obviously noticing the interaction before the guy had returned to his seat in a frustrated huff. Then your voice rang out throughout the cinema as you stood to the side, Spencer watched from his seat as your hands toyed with the lanyard around your neck.

“Im really sorry about this guys— We’ve been having issues all day. Just give me a couple of minutes to try to fix the projector then I’ll put it back to before the sound went off, so you don’t miss anything.” You sounded stressed, clearly apologetic as you spoke. There were mumbling that went around the cinema. Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed as you ran your hand through your hair before turning to walk out.

Spencer— didn’t know what was going through his mind when he stood up and made his way down the stairs, ignoring the confused splutter from Derek. Spencer made his way out of the cinema, looking around at the foyer area, it didn’t take long to see you.

Standing there, you were talking to another customer, clearly stressed and in a rush but still respectful. He waited patiently before the customer thanked you and walked away. His feet worked quicker than his mind could when he walked up to you.

“Hi” he said gently. Your eyes lifted to his before you looked towards a doorway, you smiled softly. He stood in front of you, your hands continued to fidget, he noticed that, he noticed the way your cheeks were slightly flushed and a few baby hairs stuck to your forehead from sweat.

You wiped your cheek, “Hi- Cinema seven right? I promise I’m getting there — Im so sorry.” You apologised, his heart both warmed and ached for different reasons, one because you remembered what movie he had gone to see, and because you sounded so insanely overwhelmed. There was a slight shake in your tone, he noticed.

He nodded, “yeah- But uh- I just- What’s the issue?” He asked, he wanted to slap himself in the face for the way he stuttered over his words. He was embarrassing himself, and wasting your time and he knew he should probably just turn around and walk back to his seat but he couldn’t.

A sigh left your lips, “I honestly have no idea — all day the sound has just been going out, it works for a bit but it’s just — so annoying. I’ve tried restarting it like ten times — i can’t seen any obvious issue, I really am so sorry.” You continue to apologise, he hated that you were apologising for an issue that was out of your control, its not like you went and broke the projector.

“No- Its okay. I just — I could look at it — if you want? If thats okay? I just, uh.. know quite a bit about them..” He offered, because you looked so stressed and so overwhelmed and he just wanted to help in any way he possibly could. This was something he knew he could do, he was smart enough to figure it out.

You sighed and smiled gently at him, “Thats really nice and I would totally say yes — like i genuinely would but we can’t uh— have customers going up there.” You mumbled out, almost as if you were genuinely disappointed by the fact.

He nodded in understanding because it made sense, of course you couldn’t. Projectors weren’t cheap by any means and if you just let customers go up there then chances are they would all be broken within minutes.

“Im not- I work for the FBI, I-I can show you my badge.” He mumbled, hand already reaching out for his pocket to pull out his badge and flick it open. Now, Spencer didn’t use his job as a personal weapon often; however this was different. This was you, and you were oh so pretty.

He watched as your eyes trailed down his hands to his badge, reading over the information before your eyes flickered back up to his — you were considering it, he could basically see the mental debate you were having with yourself. He hoped you said yes, because if not then he had wasted an incredible amount of your time and was actually just stopping your from doing your job.

Then you huffed out a small breath of air, “You know what you’re doing?” You asked.

He nodded instantly, “If it helps I have an IQ of 187 and have three pHD’s?” He offered the information, not to impress but to provide some sort of comfort to the clear worry over your features.

Yours eyes met his and you just looked at him for a minute — trying to find any hint of dishonesty in his features, but when you didn’t you huffed out a small ‘okay.’ Before turning around, Spencer followed you.

His mind was spinning. If he thought he was flustered before now was something else. His skin felt so hot he wanted to dive into a pool of pure ice, despite knowing that it wouldn’t actually be nearly as enjoyable as it sounded right now.

“Please don’t make me regret this. And please— for the love of everything above, don’t break anything, i do not need to loose my job right now” you had mumbled as he followed you up the stairs after you unlocked the door. He smiled gently at your words and the trust you were putting in him, maybe it was naive and stupid if it was someone else who had bad intentions, but you took your chances with him.

Spencer steps up to the controls, eyeing the mess with a focused look, his fingers tracing over the switches and buttons like he’s reading a puzzle. “Wow,” he says after a beat. “This is… pretty old-school.”

You let out a short laugh, leaning against the doorway. “Yeah, tell me about it. I’m honestly surprised we haven’t had more breakdowns.”

He glances over at you, his expression softening. “You’ve been keeping this place running pretty well, considering.”

The compliment catches you off guard, and for a moment, you feel your face flush. You quickly shake it off and nod toward the panel. “So, you think you can fix it?”

Spencer nods confidently, already getting to work. He’s methodical as he checks the wires and makes adjustments, explaining the technicalities as he goes. You pretend to understand most of it, but really, you’re just watching him, impressed by how he seems to know exactly what to do.

After a few minutes of working in silence, he glances at you again. “You know,” he says with a small grin, “this isn’t the first time I’ve saved a situation with some quick rewiring.” He grows more comfortable under your gaze as time goes on, the nerves still fluttering through his body, he tries to keep his hands as steady as possible — because you were trusting him.

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow, intrigued despite yourself.

“Yeah. One time, I had to disarm a bomb using only a circuit board and a pair of wire cutters.” He pauses, eyes sparkling with that same quiet confidence. “This is a little less stressful.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I should hope so.”

The conversation continues like that—light, easy, playful. and the tension you’ve been feeling all evening starts to melt away. There’s something about his calm demeanor that puts you at ease, like you can trust him to handle things, not just here, but in general. It’s a strange feeling, but a good one.

Finally, he steps back from the panel, brushing his hands together. “That should do it.”

You blink, glancing at the screen where the sound has suddenly returned, loud and clear. “You fixed it?”

“Looks like it,” he says, his voice soft but full of satisfaction.

A wave of relief washes over you. You hadn’t realized just how tightly wound you’d been until now. You smile, unable to hold back your gratitude. “Thank you. Seriously, you have no idea how much this helps.”

Spencer shrugs, looking a little bashful. “It’s nothing, really.”

But it’s not nothing. You can feel that. He’s helped you out, more than just with the projector, and the gratitude in your chest grows warmer.

You glance at him, hesitating. He can see it in your gaze, your eyes are on his, a warm smile on your face. He has to stop his mind from drifting away.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” you say, your voice softer now, more personal. “Is there anything I can do— Free tickets, do you need more popcorn?— That doesn’t do it justice. If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you, please let me know” You rambled and his heart fluttered.

There’s a pause, just long enough for you to wonder what he’s thinking. Then, he meets your eyes, his expression a mix of uncertainty and hope. “How about a date?”

The question hangs in the air, and your heart skips a beat.

It takes a moment to process what he’s asking, but when you do, you feel a smile tugging at your lips. “You’re asking me out?”

He nods, looking more nervous than you’ve ever seen him. “If you’re free. I’d really like to take you out sometime.”

You furrow your eyebrows slightly, hands coming back up to fumble with the lanyard on your neck — for maybe the hundredth time. You look over his face as id you don’t believe him for a moment before you let out a breathy laugh, and for a moment his heart dropped with the idea of rejection.

“Yeah- Yeah. I’d like that.” You said. And he felt like the wind had been knocked out of him.

Spencer liked the cinema’s a lot more now.

[feeder86]

The Neighbor's Boy

“So, do you want to tell us what the fuck is going on?” laughed Martin as Nick’s new boyfriend headed away to the bathroom.

Nick smirked and sat back in the chair, filling his broad, muscular chest with air and looking around at all the chubby boys’ expressions. “What?” he teased, pretending not to know what they were all so surprised about. “Duncan’s a nice guy.”

“But you don’t date nice guys,” Martin countered. “In order to date nice guys, you need to be a nice guy yourself.”

“Ouch!” Nick chuckled, enjoying his bad boy status with the guys. Despite his kind eyes and pretty face, Nick was never without an ulterior motive. “That hurt!” he lied, looking around and seeing even the guy behind the bar checking him out. “I’ll have you know that lots of people think I’m a very ‘nice’ person!”

“That’s because they don’t know you like we do,” Ben contributed, looking around at all of the other chubs in their circle. “And I bet sweet little Duncan doesn’t even know you’re a feeder, does he?”

Nick raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Of course he doesn’t.”

The chubs all looked at each other disapprovingly, despite the kinky thrill they secretly felt. Each one of them owed a good few pounds of their own blubbery physiques to Nick and his incredible ability to arouse them whilst they ate for him; the best and most skilled feeder they had ever come across. “You’re not going to fatten up him are you?” Martin asked. “Not without him knowing?”

“I’ve already started,” Nick laughed. “I got seven thousand calories in him the other day and he barely even noticed.”

“Nick!” Ben sighed. “That’s not cool!”

“I am what I am!” Nick sniggered unapologetically. “I see a little skinny shit like Duncan and my dick tells me I’ve got to feed him until he’s got some decent tits and a proper double chin on him!”

“Why him, though?” Ian asked. “He seems so sweet and innocent.”

Nick shrugged. “My parents were trying to set me up, saying they were sick of all the ‘mysterious guys’ I seemed to date,” he laughed. “Duncan’s family lived on my parents’ street and he’s just come back from college. I remember him as the little gay kid that used to stare out of the window whenever I was mowing my parents’ lawn shirtless at the end of high school,” he smirked, having been the focus on many sexual fantasies for several years now. “I didn’t have much to do with Duncan back then. He’s a couple of years younger than me. But Duncan’s dad was the fattest guy on our street, so of course I had a crush on him growing up. Now his mom is quite friendly with my mom and they’re trying their best to get us together.” he laughed at the idea. These fat boys knew him best in the whole world. Anyone with a real sense of who Nick really was would keep their handsome sons far away from him. “I thought dating Duncan would be a great opportunity to show my parents that they need to keep their noses out of my love life.”

“So, you’re dating him and secretly fattening him up to teach your parents a lesson about interfering?” Martin asked, exasperated.

“Pretty much,” Nick nodded. “Once they see the boy sprouting a little gut, they’ll soon realise the mistake they’ve made. It won’t take any of them long to work out who was responsible. I am a feeder after all…,” he whispered, spotting Duncan making his way back from the bathroom and sitting back up again. “That sounds incredible!” Nick lamented, as if they had been discussing something completely different the entire time.

“What does?” Duncan asked curiously, assuming that the boys were in the middle of a riveting conversation.

“Martin was just saying about this amazing donut place we need to try out later,” Nick lied. 

“Oh, yeah?” Duncan smiled over at Martin. “Sounds good. I love donuts.”

The boys all looked at each other guiltily, none of them willing to sound the alarm bells to Nick’s new lover; now all equally complicit in the whole wicked business.

“Your friends are so great,” Duncan smiled, getting into the back of the cab whilst holding the large box of donuts Nick had bought him.

“And they really liked you,” Nick smiled, taking the box from him and ripping it open for Duncan to try one. 

“They’re not at all how I imagined,” Duncan replied, nibbling on one without a second thought. “I remember you always hung out with the jock crowd in high school.”

Nick smirked to himself. Clearly Duncan hadn’t even recognised Martin as being one of those high school jocks he used to hang out with; now a full one hundred and sixty pounds fatter than in those days, thanks to him. “I choose my friends based upon how fun they are, rather than how they look,” he lied innocently, already picking up and handling Duncan’s next donut.

“I really like that about you,” Duncan smiled. “You’re so perfect,” he whispered, before the pair kissed gently.

Nick stroked his lover’s hair as the third and fourth donuts mindlessly disappeared down Duncan’s throat during their short journey back to his place. Duncan was the son of a fatty alright. That greed was inside there, waiting to be enabled. “Perhaps…” he teased, closing the lid on the donut box, “you could eat the rest of these off my dick when we get back?”

Duncan nodded keenly. Nick had started introducing food into their foreplay last week and it had gone down well ever since. It was so obvious that Dunan had been fantasising about being with Nick since he was a teenager and first realised he was gay. It was almost pathetically simple to make him climax and he’d slipped into a more submissive role in the bedroom with ease. 

The naive boy kissed his manipulative lover, not even realising that the guy was adding up all his calories and hoping that today could be a new record.

Over the next few weeks, Duncan became a sucker for the romance: the hand holding, Nick sitting him on his knee and holding him prtotectively around the waist. The guy’s friends thought that Nick was the sweetest man on Earth; his mother made up that Duncan had found someone so openly affectionate. It all helped to mask the gradual softening that was happening all over Duncan’s body; the glutes swelling just a little more each time Nick ploughed his dick between them.

“You got your protein shake?” Nick asked as the pair of them headed off to the gym, where Duncan would spend the majority of his time spotting Nick on the weights and lifting the bare minimum himself. Yet, he would still flush down Nick’s bespoke shake, filled with creams, oils and powders for a truly staggering daily calorie overdose.

Duncan nodded. He’d never been in such a thrilling relationship as this; never experienced a kinky fuck in the cubicles after a workout at the gym, nor been lavished with such open affection in any of his previous romances. The love, the pampering, the endless sex acting as the perfect smoke screen for what was actually happening beneath the surface. Duncan simply threw the shake into his gym bag and then followed his lover out without a second thought.

Dating Duncan was having its advantages. Having parents who were quietly very comfortable had always given Nick a fair amount of entitlement. However, despite never going without as he was growing up, his parents had given him a large dose of tough love once he left college. The easy line of credit had been cut off and Nick’s parents had decided he needed to make it on his own in order to learn the true value of things. Now their hard approach seemed to be easing, given how pleased they were to see him dating someone they approved of so much. In the last month alone, they had thrown a whole heap of cash at repairs for the sports car they had bought Nick for his twenty-first, as well as transferring plenty of money to pay for a romantic getaway in the mountains. The purse strings were well and truly opened again.

“Do you think I’ve put on weight?” Dunan asked, rubbing his stomach in the mirror one evening as he got up to get a glass of water.

Nick managed to keep a straight face. The answer was more than obvious from the direction he was looking: doughy glutes, swollen thighs and budding love-handles; Duncan was well and truly morphing into a chub. “Of course,” Nick replied. “Your shoulders look much bigger after all those workouts,” he lied.

“No, not that,” Duncan shot back, studying his stomach and pinching a little. “Do you think I’m getting fat?”

Nick got up and slipped off his underwear. He’d been considering how best to answer this question for some time. “Why don’t I take a look?” he smiled teasingly, letting his hardness press between Duncan’s butt cheeks; its second home. “Mmm, yes!” he moaned. “There’s definitely an improvement back here,” he whispered.

“An improvement?” Duncan asked in surprise.

“Of course!” Nick whispered. “You like getting fucked, right?” 

Duncan nodded; his own dick starting to stiffen as his muscular boyfriend started to slap lubricant between his cheeks.

“Well, guys like me always prefer to fuck a guy with a little more meat back here.” He pressed himself inside and moaned with appreciation and he swayed his hips into action. “Mmm, fuck!” he sighed, watching as Duncan’s arousal grew even as he had just admitted to him that he was indeed starting to get chubby.

“You really like it?” Duncan whispered back just as Nick’s lubricated hand slipped onto his dick at the same time. “You’re not just saying that?”

Nick continued thrusting as if his lust prevented him from doing anything else. “You want me to enjoy fucking you, right? Can’t you feel how extra hard my dick is today?” he breathed into Duncan’s ear.

Duncan moaned in arousal.

“I’m going to finish so fast…” Nick added next, holding his boyfriend’s hardness at the same time and sensing that he had absolute control of the situation. “Keep spreading those big, delicious butt cheeks for me!”

Duncan leaned forward and pressed himself into Nick’s groin, submitting himself more than he knew..

“Well, boys… what do you think?” Nick asked after sending Duncan off to buy some cotton candy as the rest of them meandered around the funfair.

Nick’s chubby friends all looked at each other, then back at Duncan’s enlarged rear as he queued up by the stall. “I can’t believe he hasn’t even noticed yet,” Ben replied.

Nick sighed in frustration. These fatties really didn’t understand anything. “Of course he’s noticed, you idiot!” he growled. “You can’t gain thirty-five pounds and not notice! Not when you’re as skinny as Duncan used to be!”

“Thirty-five pounds?” Martin asked. “Is it really that much?”

“Easily,” Nick chuckled. He could estimate a guy’s weight better than anyone else he had ever met. “And not an ounce of it has been muscle!” he smirked. “Just take a look at those love handles if you don’t believe me.”

“How the fuck are you still getting away with this?” Ian asked, bewildered as he saw Duncan scratching his stomach in the queue for cotton candy.

“Easy,” Nick shrugged. “Bombard a simple boy with pure pleasure, then sit back and watch. It’s really not rocket science. All boys are pigs if you know what you’re doing. And, you know me, I’ve never struggled to put weight on anyone before; as I’m sure your blubbery thighs can attest to,” he winked at Martin.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” Adam jumped in. “How much longer until he works out what you’re really up to and dumps you?”

Nick looked over at Duncan in the queue and waved sweetly. “I’d say I’ve got at least another fifty pounds or so before that happens,” he chuckled to the boys. “The greedy little fucker is hardly the brightest I’ve ever come across.”

Without even realising it, the other guys were a great help to increase Duncan’s calories that day. Collectively, they gorged and snacked the entire time as Nick sat back and watched. It was what he loved best about feeding. It wasn’t just about stuffing someone until they nearly puked; it was about the long term training and habit-forming he had programmed into all of them, ensuring that they ate, almost mindlessly, the entire time.

“I’ve got such a boner after watching you eating that hot dog…” Nick whispered to Duncan later that evening, adjusting his pants. “You were practically deep throating it,” he teased.

Duncan grinned. ”Well, you know how good I am at taking something long and thick into my mouth…” he teased back, thinking he knew the game that his lover was playing. He believed he was being playful and seductive, yet he was so far off the mark, it was laughable.

“Here,” Nick smiled, slipping Duncan a note. “Go get yourself another… I want to watch your mouth work and imagine what you’re going to do to me later,” he lied, patting Duncan on his doughy little rear. “Then, when we get home, I’m going to pull out the whipped cream and make you lick it all off me!”

Duncan raised his eyebrows and smiled with excitement. Then, off he went to do as he was told, nursing his own semi at the same time.

It was only in the pictures from that day that Nick really noticed how well Duncan’s double chin was starting to come in. Duncan had never exactly been on a par with him, looks-wise. But with the arrival of the chin and the bloated middle, at last Nick felt like he was dating a real chub once more, sending his arousal into overdrive. He found more and more cunning ways to ensure Duncan continued to overeat and, as the holidays arrived, Duncan had let himself go even more than Nick had ever expected. Suddenly, all those sweatpants Nick had quietly been adding to Duncan’s wardrobe began paying off; the larger shirts and cute underwear that would have been far too big for the guy back when they first got together.

“I’m thinking of asking Duncan to move in with me,” Nick explained to his parents one evening. This wasn’t the sort of life decision he usually made with his parents, but considering how much they were into this relationship, their support was bound to come with a nice big cheque for something or other.

Nick’s mother breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s wonderful news!” she beamed. “I thought you were going to tell us something else then!” she laughed, looking across at Nick’s dad.

“Like what?” Nick asked, curious.

“I thought you were about to tell us that it was all over between you both!” she chuckled, still looking nothing but relieved. “We noticed that Duncan’s put on a few pounds recently and we thought… Uh oh! Nick’s not going to be happy about that.”

“You thought I would finish with Duncan just because he’s gained a few pounds?” Nick asked, realising just how little his parents actually understood him. How many of his chubby boyfriends had they met in the past? “You really think I’m that shallow?” he asked, pretending to feel hurt. That was, until his parents finally offered to consider buying one of the new condos by the river for Nick and Duncan to live in together; so much more convenient than the poky little apartment Nick was in right now.

The chubs were shocked when Nick told them his plans. Adam, in particular, thought he was taking things too far. Sure, Nick had some fun fattening up his boyfriend when they were dating, but moving in with Duncanwould be entirely different. Now he would be able to manipulate everything that Duncan ate all day and all night long. And, from the horny way that Nick spoke about it, it was clear that he was going to take advantage of every opportunity that came his way.

“You really sneak all this stuff into his food?” Adam asked, gazing at the hidden supplies in the cupboard.

“Pretty much,” Nick nodded, smiling as he looked around his new kitchen. “Have you seen these?” he asked, picking up a pair of Ducan’s freshly washed work pants from the laundry basket. “Thirty eight inch waist already!”

“I’m guessing these are his as well?” Martin asked, picking up a jock strap.

“Absolutely!” Nick laughed. “You should see the way they cut into the little pig’s love handles! It never fails to make me explode!”

“Jeez! Look at all this shit!” Ben cried as he opened the refrigerator.

Nick’s face lit up again and his eyes twinkled with devilment as Ben pulled out one fattening product and ingredient after another. “Fat boy is living the dream, right?” he smiled. “And check out this!” he blasted, opening the freezer drawer and extracting a giant tub of ice cream. “Liquid gold, this stuff!” he joked. “The pig can’t resist it and it puts weight on him like nothing else. You wait until you see him. He’s like you, Adam. A similar sort of shape when you started getting fat; a tight, stout little belly. And his face! Oh my goodness! It’s just suddenly started looking chubby as fuck! Do you remember when it happened to you, Martin? Your face and cheeks seemed to just blow up? In less than a week you looked totally different. It’s exactly the same with Duncan right now.”

The chubs all looked at each other. Nick had been there during each one of their initial forays into gaining, and he was the reason why each of them continued to relish putting on more and more weight, even now.

“So this is where the magic happens?” Ian asked, as he was led into Nick and Duncan’s new bedroom.

Nick shook his head and laughed. “The magic happens wherever I want it to happen,” he boasted. “We may have only been here four weeks, but there’s no room or flat surface I haven’t fucked my little piggy on.”

The chubs all pulled a face, pretending to be repulsed by Nick’s crudeness, despite the arousal that they actually felt. Each one of them had been fucked and fed by him during their time. That was, before Duncan came along.

By the time Duncan arrived home from work, there was a wealth of take out on offer in the lounge, with Nick standing up brightly to greet his lover whilst the four chubby guys were draped over the sofas like bloated seals. After hugging him, Nick stood back and allowed the eyes of the chubs to check Duncan out. He could see their eyes wandering to exactly where he wanted: Duncan’s chubby chin, his pot belly and broader butt. How exciting it was to show him off like this! Nick fussed about him, fetching him a plate and a cool beer whilst he settled down with the other boys.

Grazing was one of Duncan’s weaknesses. A large buffet dinner like this always resulted in him eating more than usual. Even as the pizzas and chicken pieces went cool, the boy was still nibbling away as he chatted. He slipped off his tie and supped on the beer until a little opening formed between the buttons on his shirt, a tight bloat starting to take hold of his portly stomach.

“I’m hoping I can pull a few strings and get Duncan a new job with one of my friends,” Nick commented next, as Duncan began complaining about his boss. “He works so hard and just gets more and more responsibilities piled on top of him without any extra pay. It’s not fair.”

“I’ve got my fingers crossed,” Duncan nodded in agreement. “A new job would be so handy right now. As much as I like being able to walk to work, I think I’m ready for a change.”

The chubs all eyed Nick knowingly. Was this yet another cunning way to ensure that Duncan got the least amount of exercise possible? Back in the early days, Nick had manipulated all their lifestyles in a similar fashion, and their waistlines had rapidly paid the price. It burned the question in all their minds: Just how much further could Nick take this gain?

“You’ve been to the gym already?” Duncan asked a couple of weeks later as he groggily rubbed his eyes one Saturday morning.

“Of course I have,” Nick smiled, pumping his bicep. “It was chest day. You know that’s my favorite!” he winked, ripping off his compression shirt and throwing his muscular body down onto the bed with his now easily 240lb boyfriend. He kissed him keenly until he could feel Duncan really getting into it. That was the moment he pulled out. “I’m going to make you some breakfast,” he teased,” reaching his hand onto the boy’s wider rear, “then I’m going to fuck you silly…” he growled.

“Does it have to be in that specific order?” Duncan smiled back, throwing his leg over and spreading his naked butt so temptingly, as if he didn’t understand how, these days, his oversized, wobbly glutes would have put most guys off. Duncan was not the cute little thing he used to be.

Nick growled in lust, sliding his hand onto the boy’s butt and slapped it playfully, watching the fresh blubber ripple. “Breakfast first,” he smiled, resisting temptation, jumping back up energetically to start frying things up for his underexercised lover.

A few weeks later, Nick’s buddy, Martin, had met him in town for lunch. Ever since the pair had dated in high school, the guy had slowly been swelling up fatter and fatter. After understanding their shared attraction to weight gain, Nick had been the one to draw it out of him, with those initial sixty pounds being down to his own hard work and dedication to the cause. It was where Nick had learned his craft as a feeder; utilising the knowledge he had acwuired with the many, many gainers he had fattened up since.

Despite Martin’s athletic beginnings on the football team, there was not a trace of it left any longer. The guy was surprisingly pear shaped and soft all over; with every part of him coated in blubber. Martin had hit three hundred and fifty pounds last year and was still continuing to balloon up with the help of several other feeders Nick had sent his way. As usual, he was wearing clothes that appeared far too tight; his drooping stomach starting to show itself underneath his too-short t-shirt. Nick enjoyed standing back and watching the looks his friend got as they walked around together; his very favourite hobby.

“You know, I almost forgot how much I LOVE a giant fat ass on a guy,” Nick rambled as the pair of them walked to a free bench at the park. “Duncan had almost no ass at all when I asked him out. Then it started getting nice and peachy, and I thought I was so turned on by it; like my dick was never going to be flaccid ever again! But now…” he swooned, turned on just to be saying these things aloud. “...Now it’s properly FAT! Like two doughy mounds of lard! You should see the way it jiggles and moves; how wide it’s getting and how it’s spreading out! Fuck, man!”

“Hence the doughnuts,” Martin chuckled, motioning to the little bag of premium treats Nick had just picked up to take home with him later. “You do realise there are a lot more calories in the regular ones Duncan eats?” he reminded his friend.

Nick shrugged. “Duncan tends to prefer these ones. I know they’re a lot more expensive, but my little fat ass is definitely worth it,” he laughed.

“So it’s finally happened then!” Martin smirked, breathing a sigh of relief as they made it to the bench. “I never got expensive treats like those when we dated. You’re so fucked now, you know that, right?”

Nick turned in surprise. “Fucked?” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows. “Because I spent extra money on donuts?”

“I’ve seen this coming for months. The way you are around Duncan; finishing his sentences and fussing after him. You’ve properly fallen in love, haven’t you? Nick Bowlins: the feeder with a heart of stone, has actually fallen for one of his fatties!”

Nick shook his head. “No. It’s not like that at all!” he shot back, surprisingly offended by the idea. “I know this isn’t a long-term thing. I’ve been secretly fattening him for months waiting until he finally realises and dumps me. I headed into this with realistic expectations.”

“And that’s what makes this all the more tragic,” Martin laughed. “You’ve schemed yourself into a corner. You even pulled all those strings to make sure your friend got him that new job. You’ve played your games and ensured he piles on the weight, but you know he’ll never forgive you once he figures it all out. And when that happens, he’s going to break your little heart.”

“I’m not discussing this,” Nick stated, standing up and checking his watch for the time.

“Ouch! I’ve touched a nerve!” Martin sang with delight. “This is pure karma you realise? Secretly fatten up your boyfriend’s ass and you’re going to end up getting bitten on yours!”

Nick rolled his eyes and started walking off. He hated how jealous Martin was these days, now that they didn’t casually fuck like they used to. Although Nick hadn’t entered into a relationship with Duncan with the intention of staying monogamous, that was exactly what had happened. He just hadn’t wanted to be with anyone else. So, how would he feel when all this was over? Because Martin was right about one thing: this whole relationship was definitely heading for an inevitable conclusion. Maybe Nick would be the one who came off worse.

“You know I love you, right?” Nick asked, cuddling Duncan extra tight as he spooned him in bed the next morning.

Duncan chuckled softly and rubbed Nick’s strong arms that held him so firmly. “I know,” he replied, smiling happily. “I love you too.”

Despite the raging hard-on Nick had, pressed up against Duncan’s soft glutes, he tried his best to resist heading straight to sex and just enjoyed the moment. Who knew how many more mornings like this they had together?

“I’m heading for a shower if you want to join?” Duncan asked, slipping out from under the covers and standing there naked. His blubbery body was so intoxicating. Nick hadn’t been able to resist spoiling him with take-out last night and, as a result, the guy’s nipples finally looked like they were ready to start the eventual droop onto that rounded little gut that was swelling out of him. Was the guy really so oblivious that he didn’t realise how overweight he was getting? Did he really not know that, to the average person, his lardy physique was never going to entice anyone the way he was now trying to entice Nick to follow him into the shower. Bounce, bounce, bounce went those overfilled glutes as he strutted out, confident that Nick would follow; the jiggle of fat in his love handles surprisingly out of sync with the rest of his body. But Nick was so hard; his devious brain having already concocted several ways he could ensure Duncan was gorged on calories all day long. He simply wouldn’t be able to stop himself, even if he tried.

“Wait for me!” he called out, throwing the covers off and following the little piglet into the bathroom.

Many of the strategies Nick had employed to increase Duncan’s weight in the early days were now thoroughly ingrained and trained into him. Nick sat back and watched the naive boy guzzle down his breakfast and then mindlessly wander around the kitchen cupboards for snacks. The boy’s life had been so ridiculously food focused for months now, he initiated his own conversations about where they should go for lunch and talked excitedly about the little bakeries and food places they could stop at along the way. Nick almost wished that he would stop; his dick swelling with blood each and every time Duncan’s well developed greed reared its ugly head in their conversations.

“You’re starting to look like your father!” Duncan’s mother grumbled as they called in one afternoon; her son’s stomach surprisingly rounded and bloated after the sushi lunch he had insisted upon.

Right before Duncan’s dad had taken up with another woman and moved to New York about seven years ago, an eighteen year old Nick had developed the biggest crush on him: the fattest man in their neighborhood. Since then, Duncan’s mother had bitterly sworn off men and neither she, nor Duncan, had had any contact with him since. But the comparison with Duncan’s father now made Nick’s heart race as he took in just how justified it was. Ducan did indeed carry all the weight in the same way; his stomach and butt pushing outwards in completely the opposite directions. 

Duncan rolled his eyes, shielded from all the criticism by the many false and exaggerated compliments Nick had filled his head with for almost eighteen months now. “Did you notice that tiny little portion mom gave me?” he complained as they both got back into the car after staying for dinner. “I think she’s trying to put me on a diet herself!”

The pair of them laughed and waved as they pulled out of the driveway.

“You don’t think I’ve gotten too fat do you?” Duncan asked, clearly second guessing himself after the visit.

“I think you’re gorgeous,” Nick growled, swerving the question and pulling Duncan’s hand onto his erection, as if providing evidence to that effect. He’d planned for them both to stop at his own folks’ place before heading home, but his arousal had got the better of him. He felt an ache in his balls and needed to get his fat boy back as soon as possible.

“Can we order Mexican tonight?” Duncan asked; his greedy mind still hijacked by thoughts of food.

“We’ll get you whatever you want,” Nick smiled back, taking one hand from the wheel to rub his lover’s chubby thigh. Oh, how he loved this boy!

Over the following months, Nick’s usual compliments started sounding more and more ironic. He still lamented about Duncan’s butt, calling it ‘cute’ and ‘pert’ like he always had, despite the monstrous width and shape it had developed. He referred to Duncan as his ‘pretty boy’ even though the chubby cheeks had enveloped many of his old facial features and the double chin had robbed him of a jawline for quite some time. Time and time again, he made note of Duncan’s strength and manly physique, even as the pounds and pounds of blubber encased his upper arms and surged into his nipples, making them bounce as he walked. It was almost amusing that Duncan still believed each and every one of them. Then again, was it a lie when Nick really meant what he said? Big and bloated as it was, Duncan’s butt was still the cutest thing Nick had ever seen. Sure, the boy’s face was round and plump, but did that mean he wasn’t pretty anymore? Definitely not!

“I can’t believe you’re still getting away with this shit!” laughed Adam as they all met up for a meal at a fancy buffet restaurant closer to the holidays. Duncan’s gut had swollen significantly since many of the boys had seen him last summer; all of them gazing at the boy from the table as he greedily trotted around the dishes on offer. “I have to hand it to you. I never thought you would get this far with him.”

Nick nodded and smiled, but didn’t feel the need to comment.

“What is he now?” Ben asked, inspecting Duncan’s broad rear as he turned around. “Two-eighty?”

“No way! That’s a three hundred pounder if ever I’ve seen one!” Ian jumped in, laughing when Duncan’s shirt came untucked as he hungrily reached over to pick up some garlic bread.

Nick nodded once again, silently wishing for Duncan to hurry back to the table and end this speculation. All it would take would be for one of them to say something too loudly and Duncan would overhear. Then the entire house of cards would come crashing down.

The chubs all seemed to notice Nick’s silence and they looked at each other in confusion. Where had that wicked, boastful feeder they all knew so well gone?

“Leave him be, boys,” Martin whispered to the others. He probably knew, just as well as the rest did, that this was likely Nick and Duncan’s last holiday season together. 

The chair squeaked as Duncan sat himself down again. His plate was piled high; the food glistening with grease and butter. He reached for his knife and fork. Since when had his hands become so chubby and full; his fingers swelling like short little sausages.

“Nick wants to take me away on a cruise next year,” Duncan told the boys later on as the conversation progressed. “Somewhere warm so that we can just lie by the pool and enjoy some drinks in the sun.” “How lovely!” Adam grinned. “All those fantastic restaurants to visit throughout the day; all that delicious food…” he smirked, looking over in Nick’s direction. “What a thoughtful boyfriend you have!”

Nick felt more uncomfortable than ever, wriggling in his seat. In truth, he’d drifted away from the boys for just this reason, knowing that these subtle little comments about his feeder intentions were one day going to land in Duncan’s mind. Then, everything would unravel. “I just thought it would be nice,” he replied softly, rubbing his lover’s bulging thigh under the table.

“That’s what everyone always says about you,” Ben agreed sarcastically. “Nick Bowlins: a real ‘nice’ guy!” he winked.

Nick swallowed hard and forcefully steered the conversation in an entirely new direction. He felt so grateful as the evening ended and it was just him and Duncan back in the car, heading back home.

“I think I’ve still got some of that nice ice cream left in the freezer,” Duncan pondered, despite how much he had consumed that evening. “I’ll have it when I get home.”

Once again, Nick’s erection sprang to life, despite the guilt he felt. For the first time, he wished that his brain wasn’t wired the way it was. Why did he have to get off on how greedy and well trained his boyfriend had become to eat everything he provided? Why couldn’t he just be normal, like everyone else? Why did this secret have to loom over them like a dark, angry cloud?

The rain was falling hard as they made it back to the apartment block that evening, both of them running from the parking lot to the front entrance. A large man stood outside, looking drenched and miserable as he tried in vain to get a response on the intercom to one of the apartments upstairs.

“Can I help you?” Nick asked, letting the man come into the main hallway and out of the downpour.

The man lowered his hood and breathed out, rubbing his fat face and beard,soaked from the rain. Nick recognised him immediately and he could tell from the way that Duncan took a step back that he had just had the shock of his life. There, standing before them both was Duncan’s long estranged father.

“Your aunt said it was a nice apartment you have,” the big man beamed as he followed them both upstairs a few minutes later. “I have to say, she was absolutely right! This was all just wasteland when I was last in town.”

Nicked fetched the man a towel and took his jacket off. Although it had been many years since he had seen Duncan’s father, Eddie, he was surprised at how impressively large the man had become in that time, easily close to being five hundred pounds, if not more.

“What do you want?” Duncan asked, sitting himself down on the couch. “Why show up here after all this time? Is Michelle not with you?”

“Michelle’s at home in New York,” Eddie replied, referring to the woman he had left Duncan’s mother to be with. “I always miss you more around the holidays. Now you’ve moved out of your mom’s place, I thought maybe I could finally summon up the courage to come and see you.” The man looked over at his son and smiled. It had been years since he had seen him. Duncan had been nothing more than a scrawny teenager the last time they had been in the same room together. “You look well,” he nodded. “I always thought you’d end up looking more like me than your mother,” he smiled, patting his own large belly.

An awkward silence fell upon the room. After over seven years of estrangement, was Duncan’s dad really calling him fat within the first five minutes? Tact was clearly not his specialty.

“Your aunt tells me you two have been together for over two years now?” he asked next. “You must be very happy.”

Again, the silence was deafening. Nick began to feel sorry for the man as Duncan’s hostility endured.

“Why did you have to move to New York?” Duncan finally asked; blocking whatever path his father was trying to steer the conversation.

Eddie nodded his head, accepting that the question was a good one. “Because I fell in love,” he answered. “Michelle and I… we’re just made for each other. Sure, it’s not a conventional pairing… A bit like you two,” he pointed at them both, appearing to be gesturing towards their two contrasting bodies. “But we’re very happy together.”

The cogs in Nick’s brain began to turn. 

“Your mom was always getting at me for my weight,” Eddie went on. “We were never happy. That was all just an act for your sake. But I think you knew that, didn’t you?” he smiled sweetly at Duncan. “I tried to explain to your mom that this is who I am,” he nodded, grabbing a handful of the fat that encircled his waist. “But she wouldn’t have it. She made my life hell. Then I met Michelle online and… well, as you know. Everything changed.”

Nick had a thousand questions burning in his head. He fought back the urge to jump in and ask them all at once, merely rubbing Duncan’s back supportively from behind the couch.

“Your mom threatened to tell you everything unless I stayed away. She’d hired a private investigator and had endless messages, pictures and transcripts between me and Michelle. I didn’t want you to see any of that. Your mom made it clear that she thought the things Michelle and I were into were just perverted. She didn’t understand the eating and the weight gain and how intrinsic it all is to my happiness.”

Nick tried not to react. Was Duncan’s father really coming out as a… a gainer?

“I thought, maybe now that you’re in your own similar relationship, that you might understand,” Eddie finished, looking at them both.

Nick’s eyes bulged and he stood up straighter; his heart pounding. He’d imagined many scenarios where he would be outed as a feeder, but being called out by Duncan’s absentee father had not been one of them. “I’m not sure I know what you mean,” he mumbled shakily.

Eddie chuckled. “Oh, come on… it’s obvious!” he motioned again at their extreme size difference. “Duncan’s aunt told me all about you two. You’re the one who fattened up Pete and Shirley’s boy, Martin, back when you were in high school together,” Eddie stated directly to Nick. “I heard he’s a real porker these days! ‘As fat as butter’ my sister said!”

Duncan turned his head to look at Nick, standing behind him, his eyebrows lowered in confusion. Nick was utterly speechless.

“Now, I’m not sure there are many fathers who would approve of their son dating a feeder,” Eddie nodded. “But, in this case, I’ve got to say… I know you two will be really happy together.”

Duncan and Nick both looked across at Eddie. The man was still blissfully unaware of the wrecking ball he had just taken to their relationship.

“I’m staying at the Palace Hotel,” Eddie stated as he grunted and got up from his seat. “Perhaps we could all meet up for some lunch tomorrow?”

Again, silence was the only response. He pulled out a contact card and dropped it on the coffee table.

“It really is good to see you again,” he smiled at Duncan as Nick followed him to the door and closed it behind him.

“Duncan…” Nick began, the moment they were alone again. “That was… I’m not sure your dad has all the facts about… I’m not really…” he mumbled, starting and restarting his sentences again and again. “Are you alright?” he finally offered sweetly.

Duncan inhaled and seemed to pull himself out of his stunned silence. “Well, I guess everything makes a lot more sense now,” he nodded pragmatically. “With dad… With you.”

Nick’s heart was racing. He thought of several things he could say in response, all of them lies and excuses. No. The game was up.

“So I guess that’s the reason why I’m like this,” Duncan sighed, raising his arms up to his chest and looking down at his fattened body, as if for the first time. “I just thought I was going mad. Two hundred and ninety six pounds. That’s what I was when I weighed myself the other day. Can you believe that?”

“I never meant for things to go this far,” Nick replied honestly.

“Nor did I,” Duncan agreed, rubbing his stout belly sadly.

“You don’t have to be this way,” Nick shot back. “We can put you on a diet. I’d love you however you looked. Just give me a chance and let me prove it!”

“I think it’s too late for that, don’t you?” Duncan grumbled, still holding his enlarged stomach. “My dad’s right. I’ve always been more like him than my mom.”

“How do you mean?” Nick asked, wondering just how long it would be until Duncan kicked him out. Where the hell was he going to sleep tonight?

“I love food. I love eating. I love this…” he emphasised, leaning a little forwards and grabbing his gut with both hands, shaking it. “I just didn’t understand why.”

Nick’s heart skipped a beat. “You seriously don’t mind?” he asked in astonishment.

“I thought you were so sweet for not nagging me about my weight when I first started getting chubby. But I guess I understand now. It all makes sense.”

Nick cringed. He felt that things still rested on a knife edge. He didn’t want to open his mouth and say the wrong thing; simultaneously destroying everything. 

“So, this is your thing, huh?” Duncan asked, lifting his shirt and patting the large belly he had developed over the last two years. “I suppose I always was a prime target for a feeder, knowing how large my dad is. I guess weight gain is just in the genes. You must have known that.”

“That wasn’t why I started dating you,” Nick replied quickly. “And your weight isn’t the reason why I fell in love with you either.”

“Well, you’re a better man than me then,” Duncan chuckled. “Because the way you used to cook and overfeed me definitely played a part in the reason why I fell for you so badly!”

The pair looked at each other with very small smiles threatening to invade from the furthest corners of their mouths.

“I guess we’re both just a couple of freaks,” Duncan finally laughed. He patted the space next to him on the couch and Nick finally came to sit next to him. The most honest conversation of their lives was about to begin.

“Surprise!” shouted the crowds of people as Duncan and Nick walked into the restaurant a few months later. Everyone was there: the chubs, the two families, Duncan’s father and Michelle; all stood underneath a banner congratulating them on their engagement. The pair of them laughed, pretending that they hadn’t already worked out what was happening, strolling in to greet them all.

“So you’re finally going to make an honest fatty out of this one?” Martin joked quietly as he came up to the pair of them later that evening.

Nick nodded, his hand resting sweetly on Duncan’s large butt as the boy stood, eating his third plateful from the buffet. He rubbed and patted gently, knowing that Duncan always ate better when his size was being admired. The boy had been fattening faster than ever since the pair of them had been open and honest about things. With such an enormous double chin, Duncan even looked larger than Martin himself.

“How was the cruise?” Martin askes next, not having seen the pair of them since they made it home, freshly engaged last weekend.

Duncan and Nick giggled to each other, remembering all the kinky things they had got up to together. “It was very good, thanks,” Nick finally replied, rubbing Duncan’s giant stomach as if to show that the pair of them had stuffed Duncan’s gut for the entire two weeks. They’d even had to buy a new shirt especially for the party that evening.

“Yeah, it was great,” Duncan mumbled through a mouthful of food. “Now we’re just looking forward to the wedding.”

A surge of excitement spread through Nick as he thought about the wedding. His large hand couldn’t resist squeezing Duncan’s blubbery glute as he pictured how much fatter his fiance would be by then.

“Well, it’s unconventional, but it clearly works for you two,” Martin smiled, looking on at his very good friends who clearly only had eyes for each other. Sure, the world had lost one of its most devilish and enterprising feeders, but look at how happy he was with his fat boy. Look at how happy they both were! 

The whispers behind their backs could continue, the justified comparisons between Nick and Eddie’s feeder wife could go on and on. Duncan’s mother could regret the day she’d ever agreed to let her friend coax her into setting up Duncan with her son. But none of them could deny that this was something very special indeed. The glasses were raised, the toasts were made and the sentiment was real. A long and happy marriage was wished upon them both. Nick and Duncan, forever more.

[reareaotaku]

Superboy vs Robin

Summary: The life of 3 best friends that get confused when realizing they have a crush on their other friend, Y/n Prince, daughter of Wonder Woman Pairings: Jon Kent x Fem! Reader, Damian Wayne x Fem! Reader Tw: Love V [NOT TRIANGLE!!! IT'S A 'V'], Slow Burn? Taglist: N/a

Pt II: Love in High Places | Pt III: Apple of My Eye

[This probably would have been better to write as a multi-part story instead of a one-shot, so I can really get the slow burn and such... Might make a part 2 if yall like this? Also hope this isn't bad because I've been wanting to write this for over a year....]

You had met the two boys when in the league's spaceship. Your mother was on business and sent you off to do, as she put it 'Children things', before taking off with Batman and Green Lattern. You rolled your eyes at her dismissal, but decided to find something else to do. Besides, hero work was boring anway. Nothing interesting about discussing rules and such anyway.

You walked around the large spaceship, before coming across a particular room. In the room where two kids, boys, around your age you didn't recognize. One of the boys, the one in darker clothes, must have felt your presence, because the second you stepped in he turned around.

Damian knew who you were. He knew who everyone was. He would look like a real fool if he didn't know the daughter of Wonder-woman. Too bad the same couldn't be said for Jon.

You awkwardly stand at the door way, now having both the boys' attention on you. You awkwardly wave, "Hey."

Jon's face lights up and he rushes to you. He loved meeting new people and you were nothing short of pretty. "Hi!" He grabs your hand, engulfing it with his own. "I'm Jon, Jon Kent."

"Y/n Prince." You tried to keep up with his handshake, but he was fast and strong, and by the time you could gather what was going on he had already let your hand go.

You looked past Jon back at the emo boy, but he was just staring at you. Jon looked over to see what you were looking at, before gesturing towards his friend.

"Oh, that's Damian. Don't mind him. He's.... Shy."

"I'm not shy. I just don't have any reason to speak to her."

Jon gasps, before glaring at his friend, "That's rude, Damian." He turns back to you, his face flushed in embarrassment. "I'm sorry about him. He's not good with people."

You nod, still staring at Damian. "He's Batman's kid, right? The son of those assassins?"

Damian's eyes widen, but only for a brief second. He could let such an emotion out.

"My mother mentioned it a while ago. She didn't say much, just that you were... Different."

"Yeah, he is different." Jon jokes, causing you both to chuckle, but Damian just rolls his eyes.

---

You and Jon stuck your faces to the fish tank. Neither of you had ever seen a fish tank before. You were both stuck in the house by your parents in fear of you revealing yourselves on accident. Your parents have isolated you both- Even Damian was isolated, but he wasn't as naive and foolish as you and Jon.

"Oh, that one's purple," You point to a triangle-shaped fish.

"No, it's a dark blue," Jon argues, causing you to side-eye him.

You rolled your eyes, but don't respond.

"Hey, Y/n."

"Yeah, Jon?"

He looks over at you, wide eyed and excited, "You ever been Tire-rolling?"

"Tire-rolling?"

---

"I don't know if this is a good idea, Jon-" You try and reason, as your hands grip the tire's rubber.

He smiles, his hands gripping the tire, "Oh, it'll be fun. Promise!" He then pushes you, but instead of pushing you at a normal strength, he accidentally uses his super strength and sends you flying. His eyes widen as his mouth drops, before he runs after you, hoping you don't get hurt.

You scream as the tire jumps and hits multiple things while going faster than you've ever gone before. You grip the inside of the tire so hard, that you can feel your nails digging into your palm. You hear cars honking, but there's nothing you can do, without using your powers.

Though, luck must have been on your side, because while you're mid way in the air, something goes through the tire and harshly pulls you down. Your face slams into the tire, your hands ripping the tire's rubber. The tire falls flat on the ground and you sit up, rubbing your head.

Above you was the one and only, Damian Wayne. He was in his school uniform and he was looking down at you annoyed. In his hand was a grappling hook, which you assume he used to save you.

You quickly stand up, brushing off your clothes, "Uh, thanks."

Before Damian can respond, like he would, you hear Jon calling out to you.

"Y/n! Oh my god, Y/n! Are you okay?" He's nearly out of breath as he runs up to you before he stops. "Oh. Uh, hi Damian."

There's a moment of awkward silence, before Jon goes back to his normal self.

"What are you doing, Damian?"

"Nothing." Damian is quick, calculated even.

You had only known the two boys for a few months, but it felt like you had known Jon your whole life and this moment felt like the first time meeting Damian. Though, Damian was busy, so you couldn't really blame him. He was the son of a man with an empire and an assassination group. He was bound to be tied up from time to time.

"Uh, do you want to hang out, Damian?"

Damian is taken by surprise. You wanted to hang out? With him? Why?

Jon went to speak for Damian, but Damian interrupts him, "Sure."

"Really?" Both you and Jon speak at the same time, before you both blush out of embarrassment.

"I mean, great. Wow, okay. Yeah, let's hang out."

---

Damian groaned, before laying down on the roof. He could hear Jon and Y/n snickering to themselves, probably over something stupid. He closes his eye, their voices slowly fading from his mind. He didn't know how you had convinced him to hang out with you on a roof in the middle night.

He didn't like you, so he didn't know why he listened to you. He had no reason to care about what you said or thought, but yet here he was.

You had some kind of pull over him and he didn't know why. There was nothing about you that was different from the other superheroes. Sure, you were pretty, but so was Starfire, Raven, Super-woman, etc.

He looks over at you as you lean on Jon's shoulder, whispering some secret into his ear. He wondered what secrets you two were sharing. Maybe if he asked you'd let him in? He didn't know.

He takes his eyes off of you and looks back at the sky. It was a dark and cloudy night, like most nights in Gotham. Though, unlike most nights, it was quiet; Almost peaceful.

It bothered Damian. More than he'd like to admit. He felt an ich in his skin, like he was supposed to be doing something, but there was nothing to do. There was no fight to fight or crime to solve. It was peaceful for the first time in a long time.

---

Jon liked you, a lot. Like more than he's ever liked someone in his life. He feels immense emotions when he's around you, even if your mother doesn't like him. Though, your mother didn't like men period.

He was thankfully you didn't receive that quality from your mother. You were much nicer and happier than your mother. But that could be because you weren't tortured in the same way your mother was by the women of Themyscira.

In fact, they adored you. They treated you like some kind of goddess and cherished you. Jon understood though. You were perfect- At least to him you were. He thought everyone should treat you like the perfect person you are because you deserve nothing less.

---

You were alone with Damian for the first time in all the years you've known each other. You sighed, squeezing your eyes shut. You didn't know how you were going to tell them you were going to be leaving for Themyscira.

Your mother wanted you to be trained by the Amazons to be able to control your powers and abilities. While she herself was banished, she knew they would welcome you with welcome arms.

You knew Jon would take it hard, but it was only going to be for a year. Just a year. A year you'd be away from your best friends. So, there was a part of you that hoped if you told Damian first, it'd be easier to break it to Jon.

"So, when do you leave?"

You looked over at Damian, confused, "Leave?"

"I heard your mother talking to my father. She said she was sending you to Themyscira to train. So," He sits up on his bed, making direct eye contact with you, "when do you leave?"

"Next month. I'll be gone for a year."

"A year?"

"Yeah. My mom wanted me to stay for 3, but I was able to talk her down from it."

"Have you told Jon?"

"No..."

"Well, you know he's not going to react well."

"Yeah. That's why I've been procrastinating it."

"Can I write you?"

You frown, "No. The island is cut off from the world. So, no contact at all. Not even with my mom."

He now frowns, but says nothing more.

---

You sigh, leaning on your hand, your sword tossed on the ground. Before you stood Philippus, your mentor.

"Princess Y/n, what is bothering you so?"

You couldn't tell her you missed your friends. If she knew they were boys you knew you would get scolded. The Amazons didn't like men, because they were chaos and destruction and they were peaceful. A part of you understood, because you've seen the terrible things men can do, but your friends- they weren't like those men.

"Nothing... Just tired."

She takes your answer, even though she knows you're lying. You were frustrated and annoyed. You had been here for a month and found yourself making no progress. This was pointless.

You could have been with your friends, but here you were on some stupid island. You wanted to your friends.

"You know, if you don't get these down in the upcoming year, you'll have to stay."

You straighten up and glare at the woman. "No, I won't-"

Philippus quickly turns around, looking at you offended, "Excuse me?"

"Nothing." You quickly respond not wanting to repeat yourself.

She huffs, rolling her eyes, but decides to leave the conversation.

---

It had been a year since you were forced, by your mother, to train on the Themyscira Island. They wanted you to know how to use your powers to the fullest potential. It was fine... But you missed your friends. You wondered what they were doing. You wondered if they missed you too.

---

Jon was estatic. You were finally going to return from the island. Though, there was a part of him that was worried that you wouldn't remember them or even worse, you would hate them.

"You worry too much," Damian told him.

Jon sighs, trying to collect himself, "I'm just worried." Jon fiddles on his toes, as he repeated looks out of the window, hoping to see you pull up. Though, you were no where to be found. He walks away from the window, his shoulders dropping. "How far is that place?"

"Themyscira? It's a few weeks by boat, but she'll be here soon. She's home now."

Jon lightens up, "Home?"

"Yeah, she won't be here for a few more hours."

Jon glares at Damian, "You had me here looking like an idiot!"

Damian chuckles, "Yeah. I did, didn't I?"

---

Damian wasn't surprised by your appearance, unlike Jon. Damian had already seen you, without you knowing of course. You think he'd let you leave without any kind of contact? He knew everything, thanks to his connections. Though, nothing could compare to you really being in front of you.

Jon was the first to hug you. His arms squeezed you tightly, nearly causing you to lose your breath. He didn't want to let you go- Just hold you forever. He didn't want you leaving forever, but he was forced to let you go.

"You look great, Y/n."

You smile, a blush forming, "You too, Jon." You look around Jon to see Damian, who was avoiding eye contact. It almost reminded you of when you had first met the boys. "No hug, Damian?"

Damian finally looks at you, his natural glare on his face. Unlike Jon, who had let his hair grow out, Damian still had shorter hair, but his features were sharp. Though, that didn't surprise you. What did take you by surprise though is how much he looked like his father.

While Jon looked like a mix of Clark and Lois, Damian just looked like his father. Well, minus his golden skin- He got that from his mother.

Speaking of Jon, you felt him squeeze your bi-cep. You looked at him confused and he blushed.

"Uh, what are you doing, Jon?"

"Your biceps. They're like... Huge." He's fascinated by your arms, even comparing it to his own. While he was naturally strong, because of his powers, you had trained relentlessly for a year and it showed when your arms were bigger than his.

You chuckled at his amusement, before his eyes lit up, "Ah, Y/n you've missed out on so much- Come on," He grabs your arm, leading you inside the headquaters of the Justice League. You are stopped though when Damian grabs your arm that Jon didn't have. Jon looks back, wondering why you stopped when realizing Damian had grabbed you.

"Jon, why don't you head up. I just want to talk to Y/n."

Jon seems reluctant, but you turn to him, "I'll catch up. Promise."

He sighs, but ultimately goes up the stairs and inside the building.

"You look nice."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"That means a lot coming from you, you know?"

Damian avoids eye contact. He's worried that you might see all his emotions, feelings and thoughts. He didn't want you knowing his darkest thoughts. "Yeah.. Uh, Jon missed you a lot... Obviously. Um..." Damian had never been like this- Lost for words. He always knew what to say. He had everything calculated, but now... Well, he felt lost. He felt your stare on him, waiting for him to finish, but he felt his tongue felt twisted. "It's good to have you back."

"Yeah, well, it's good to be back. You know, I've missed you a lot... And Jon. I've missed you both a lot."

Damian finally looks at you. Your eyes bleeding into his own. For a moment it felt like you two were the only ones in the world. Everything else was just dark and all that was left was you. That was until another voice spoke.

"Y/n."

You both looked up to see your mother. She gestured for you to come inside and you looked back at Damian.

"Well, I guess that I have to go."

"Yeah... I'll see yah."

"Yeah... you will."

You rush up the stairs, trying to stop the blush from forming on your face. You were so embarrassed and felt like the conversation was stupid. You wished you could have done it differently, but it was Damian. You were sure he wasn't as pressed about it as you.

If only you knew how much your life was about to change forever- All thanks to teenage boys' puberty.

[gguk-n]

Chapter 1- Chance Encounter

Accelerating Emotions (Oscar Piastri x Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- The Y/L/N moved to Melbourne. Oscar made a new friend. He got into karting and racing but his friend's sister still makes it difficult to breath sometimes. He had thought he would be over her by now, seems like he was wrong.

The reader has 2 brothers who I'm naming Ansel and Aldric and the reader is Y/N

The Y/L/N family moved to Melbourne, Australia in 2003 with their 2 kids, Y/N and Ansel, in search for a better future and a place to raise their kids. The sub-burbs of Melbourne served as a calm and healthy environment for the 2 kids with the addition of their youngest Aldric only 2 years later. The 3 kids were a handful but the Y/L/N wouldn't have it any other way.

Ansel, their oldest boy used to cry a lot when he would have to go to pre-school and the teachers would have to call his parents since it was getting difficult to manage the little boy until he met a boy who loved cars as much as he did. The calls from pre-school stopped suddenly alerting the parents who ended up finding out that Ansel had befriended a boy named Oscar and they were attached to the hip. The two boys started having play dates together at Oscar's place since Ansel's parents were too busy to host the boys and Oscar's mum, Nicole didn't mind having another kid around once in a while. Ansel would talk animatedly when describing his day which he never did before, eliciting a smile from his parents. Oscar loved his friend as well.

Ansel was 4 when he insisted on having Oscar over to show his car collection which had slowly been fluctuating and from what Mrs Y/L/N gathered from Mrs Piastri, the 2 boys had been exchanging cars with each other. So, one beautiful summer morning, Oscar was walking behind Ansel to his house with Mrs Y/L/N behind them with her year old son, Aldric in arms. The boys ended up playing around in the backyard after lunch and wouldn't come in until Oscar heard a shrill voice scream at Ansel to come in and have some fruits. The voice belonged to Ansel's older sister. She walked back in, "hmph, I hate her, she's so annoying" Ansel told Oscar. "It's a good thing your sisters are smaller than you, she only screams at me" Ansel whined as they walked inside.

Oscar was asked to sit on the sofa while Y/N brought out 2 fruit plates for the both of them. She handed the plate to Oscar and raised her hand forwards, "My name is Y/N" she said. Oscar shook her hand; "My name is Oscar" he said. "You're cute, not like my annoying brothers" she said while sticking her tongue out to her brother and ruffling Oscar's hair. Oscar hated when people touched his hair, "Don't touch my hair" he called out. "Sorry" she giggled while running away.

Oscar didn't know then but he knew now that he had the biggest crush on her. Y/N became a huge part of his life since his friendship with Ansel blossomed. His mother would invite both of Ansel's siblings to parties and soon enough just to hang out. Oscar liked hanging out with Y/N more than his sisters. She was cooler and older and they got to do whatever they wanted if his mom thought Y/N was watching over them. So, Oscar would initially invite her over so they could get away with whatever they wanted and he won't have to look over his sisters. Oscar's little sisters loved Y/N too since they had someone to play dolls and tea party and dress up with. Oscar, Ansel and Aldric were a team and Y/N and Oscar's little sisters were a team. You would find the 7 children playing in the backyard of the Piastri's or Y/L/N on evenings after school.

Oscar had started karting quite young and the 6 kids would be his biggest cheerleaders, their cheers could be heard whenever Oscar crossed the finish line whether he finished first or last. Oscar would shoot a smile at them whenever he would get out of his kart.

You could hear the 3 boys racing their remote control cars in the backyard. If anyone asked Oscar how he got so good at remote car racing; he would always site his friend and say that he helped him get better. Ansel would help Oscar in karting too; you would find the two boys tinkering and bickering about strategies. Oscar would also tell people that his friend helped him in karting but really Oscar had a talent for it and his friend enjoyed tinkering with the kart with Oscar's dad, making sure everything was in order and ready for Oscar to race. Oscar knew his friend wouldn't get into racing but he would probably make it to the world of racing since he loved cars and loved watching Oscar win with the kart he helped 'fix'.

As Oscar grew older, he realised that he had a bit of a crush on his friend's older sister. He would find himself looking for her whenever he visited their house or looking for her when his friend visited. It would always dampen his mood when he couldn't find her. But nothing dampened his mood like the time he found Y/N kissing a boy in her room back when he was 12. She was 13, Oscar didn't know she got herself a boyfriend, he didn't know that a boy over either. So, what a surprise, when he opened the door and saw her kissing a boy, I mean kissing as far as 13 year olds know how to. Oscar slammed the door shut and shouted an apology while running away. He spent the next few days thinking about the weird feeling he had when he saw that. And a few google searches later; he had a crush ON HIS BEST FRIEND'S SISTER. Oh, he was fucked. He saw her often enough that it might make it awkward. But Oscar was an actor; a trait he didn't know he possessed or so he thought.

Oscar's karting career was taking off; having had started to race professionally and even starting to finish on podiums at the end of championships. Ansel would be there to support his friend as often as he could. Oscar was thankful for everyone coming.

Sometimes, Oscar would come home to find Y/N with his mum helping her around the house. His sisters loved Y/N and would always prefer her over him; honestly he would also prefer her, he thought as he saw her cut up fruits for the kids. "Why are you always handing me fruit whenever I see you?" Oscar asked. "Because, you're small and this will help you as you grow older" she replied. "I'm not small, I'm 13" Oscar huffed. "Well, I'm 14 and I'm older than you. So, that means you'll always be younger than me" she snickered. "Now eat your fruits, kid" she commanded and left. Oscar hated this, he hated that she saw him as a kid.

Oscar should've learnt from his past mistakes but he never learns and caught Y/N with her next boyfriend and this time in a rather compromising position. Y/N didn't learn from her previous mistakes either, she should've locked the door. She knew that; Oscar and his sisters were over. She knew yet she was reckless but in her defence, she hadn't seen her boyfriend in a few days and the both of them were hormonal teenager and it slipped her mind. Now, she was sat on her boyfriend who was lying down with her top and bra off. Oscar wasn't sure if he wanted that imagine erased from his memory or imprinted since she got to see Y/N topless. As he quickly closed the door and ran down; he heard shuffling behind the door and a disheveled Y/N running after him and cornered him near the end of the stair case. Oscar had had a growth spurt, so he stood taller then Y/N. She had both her hands on either side of him; "Don't you dare tell anyone what you saw or I'll make sure you can never get a girlfriend" she threatened. She already made it difficult to get a girlfriend, Oscar thought, the threat was already a reality. Oscar just nodded. "Didn't realise you'd grown taller" she hummed as she let Oscar go while acting out, 'I'm watching you' with her two fingers and walked back up.

Oscar left for the UK when he knew his karting career was picking up and he wanted to be a professional Formula One driver. Nicole cried a lot. But the 6 other kids helped her cope with Oscar's absence. Oscar sighed a sigh of relief; maybe he would finally get over his childish crush. He even got himself a girlfriend eventually. He would barely visit his family due to school and the karting schedule and then eventually single seat racing schedule. He was getting better; he was getting quite good and winning championships and graduating to the next class to racing each year. He even made new friends. But Ansel was still his best friend and no amount of distance was about to change that for him.

Whenever Oscar visited he didn't really get to see Y/N even though he might have wished he did, but he would never admit it, not even to himself. It became an even rarer occurrence after Y/N started university and had moved from Melbourne. The next 4 years; the pair would always miss each other whenever they would visit. Though he would hear about Y/N's adventures from his mother or sisters. Y/N would hear a lot about Oscar from Oscar's or her own family. Both of them would hear about each other's achievements. To Y/N, Oscar was just the tiny child her brother befriended and now she had more siblings to look after. To Oscar, she was his first crush.

Y/N moved back to Melbourne for work; she got a teaching license after completing her Bachelors in Education in English. Currently, she was working as a pre-school teacher. She loved children and this was a great way to help the leaders and the future of tomorrow. Oscar had heard his mum say something about Y/N moving back but he didn't remember; he was in the middle of a break up with his long term girlfriend and the possible signing with a Formula One team fiasco. He had flown in to Australia soon after and spent time with his family. He was excited yet scared when he got signed to McLaren, who were replacing one Australian with another. A part of Oscar hoped to run into Y/N but apparently she was busy with school since it was her first year at the job.

"Mate, what's wrong? Why do you keep looking around?" Ansel asked sounding rather annoyed at Oscar who wasn't paying attention to the game in front of them. "Our teams gonna lose the match at this rate" Ansel almost screamed. "Sorry....it's nothing" Oscar quickly replied. "No one's home. Y/N's house hunting, Aldric's out with his friends and mum and dad are out on a date. We won't be disturbed" Ansel muttered as he passed the ball to Oscar in FIFA. "Oh, okay" Oscar muttered getting back to the game not before he heard his friend sigh but didn't ask why. After the match, the two boys were sat munching on some chips, "Is Y/N moving out?" Oscar asked tentatively. "Oh yeah, she's been trying to get a decent place for a while but teacher's pay is shit; so it's taking her some time" Ansel said. "That means she won't be over often?" Oscar asked quietly. "Probably, but both our moms need her too much, they missed her so much while she was in college. It wasn't funny. Thank God she moved back because it was getting quite annoying. She's always doing stuff around both of our homes or with them anyways. So, she should still be over. Plus she takes your sister to her extracurriculars since Nicole's busy lately." Ansel added. "Oh" is all that left Oscar's mouth.

Oscar sadly returned to the UK before he got to meet Y/N. He hadn't seen her since she moved for university except in pictures his mum would send. But he had a bigger fish to fry; his new life as a Formula One driver from next year onwards.

2023 started with a lot of training on Oscar's part to prepare himself for the year. His first 2 races left much to be desired by Oscar. His third race was in his home. His family and Ansel's family had come to support him through out the weekend except Y/N. On Sunday, Oscar was chatting with Lando when everyone came. That's when he saw her. She looked as beautiful as ever; he wasn't sure if she had made his breath stop like she did just now as he watched her laugh along with his sisters. She turned around and as their eyes met, she shot him a smile; walking towards him. Fuck, he thought, he couldn't feel his tongue in his mouth or how to form words anymore, honestly.

[ppeonppeonhan]

The Sexiest 2023 BL Scenes

I think we can all agree that there is an art to executing a sex scene -- and not everybody's an artist. This year, we (and, by that, I mean you) gif'd a couple of masterpieces that range from romantic to...educational. Here are the ones that live in my head rent free, in order of PG-13 to NC-17:

BEST ROLE-PLAY SEX: Bed Friend

If you had told me last year that incorporating cat ears into foreplay would result in one of the hottest scenes in BL, I would've given you bombastic side-eye. But James, the actor who plays Uea, pulled it off, and is probably responsible for a lot of Amazon orders till this day. (Episode 6)

BEST BEACH-SIDE SEX: The Eighth Sense

This entire sequence was so beautifully lit in golden tones, with soft touches, and romantic moments. It almost made you forget about the depression plot. Almost. (Episode 6)

LONG-AWAITED SEX: Hidden Agenda

Joke yearned for Zo in a way that was borderline comical. From the moment Zo kissed Joke like he was trying to give him CPR and then promptly shoved him out of his apartment, I knew every kiss after that would have to come with a parental warning. I'm surprised Joke didn't move in. (Episode 8)

DO-OVER SEX: Love Class 2

The music for this sex scene was so perfectly matched with the caressing and hand closeups. And the fact that it happened after the initially-ghosted Joo Hyuk got Sung Min to reconsider made it even sweeter. (Episode 9)

BEST WET SEX SCENE: Kiseki: Dear to Me

I may have enjoyed Ai Di and Chen Yi's love story more, but Fan Ze Rui and Bai Zong Yi were helping us all live out our tall boy fantasies. When he mounted him with a soft bounce, I knew the gif Gods would giveth. (Episode 7)

BEST EUPHORIC SEX: Only Friends

Ray looked like he reached nirvana when he made love to Sand in that sardine can of trailer, so of all their sex scenes, this was my fave. (Episode 9)

BEST INSECURITY-INDUCED SEX: Only Friends

Say what you will about Boston -- and the fandom has said a lot lol -- but if you had to choose a cast member to get you off, you'd choose him in a heartbeat. And yes, this scene was grimey. He f*cked his friend's potential boyfriend in the backseat of his car after manipulating him into believing he was cheated on, but can you blame him? He was probably tired of always having to give and never receive. Plus, Top did this vibrating move that made me wonder who told Force to do that... (Episode 3)

GIF by wanderlust-in-my-soul

BEST CENSORED SEX: Wedding Plan

I'm still mad that this scene wasn't in the Youtube cut. It paints an entirely different picture of their dynamic and their personalities. But thank God for the gif'ers, otherwise I would've missed how ravenous they were when they weren't...wedding planning. 😳 (Episode 6)

BEST WHIPLASH SEX: Be Mine Superstar

To be clear, WE were the ones getting whiplash. One minute, we were watching a sweet love story between an innocent college kid and his idol crush, and the next minute we were watching a masterclass on how to bang your one-night stand (consensually) until he agrees to date you. It's like...Sir, I'm on the train. Could you give a bitch a heads up? (Episode 8)

***

While I am generally envious of every single one of these experiences, I'm even more envious of everyone's knee strength and flexibility. I could never. Rollerblading has ruined me. If I tried half of these positions, I'd have to get physical therapy. 🙃

[be4chywritez]

tie the knot | logan sargeant

logan sargeant x piastri!reader

You and Logan officially tie the knot.

masterlist!

beachy’s notes🐚: reader is adopted

Logan had been in love with you since the day you punched another kid for calling him a loser.

That was when you were 12 and he was 13. Oscar teased him about it endlessly until Logan finally mustered the courage to ask you out. He remembers it so clearly.

You were both sitting on the dock of a lake where your parents had organized a get-together. Oscar had gotten bored of staring at the water and wandered off. Logan looked over at you and asked, "Have you ever had a boyfriend?"

You looked over, flushed, and shook your head. "No."

"Do you want a boyfriend?" he asked, his eyes flicking nervously to your lips. You scooted closer, your knees brushing against each other, both of you blushing at the contact.

"I think I do," you said, avoiding eye contact and staring off into the water. You heard him take a shallow breath.

"Do you want to be my girlfriend?"

You whipped your head towards him. "You want me to be your girlfriend?" you asked, shocked because the boy you’d had a crush on since you were twelve was asking you to be his girlfriend.

"Yeah, I thought you liked me," he said, flushing deep red and scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

"I do!" you blurted out too quickly. You cleared your throat. "Um, yeah, I do. I want to be your girlfriend." You smiled, and he let out a breath of relief.

"Oh, thank God. I was nervous you didn't like me and that would be—"

You cut him off with a kiss. You weren't sure if you were kissing him right, your lips awkwardly pressing against his. He didn't pull away, but his hands hesitated before gently holding your arms. You pulled away, both of your cheeks flushed. "Was that good?" you asked, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"Yeah, it was good," he smiled, looking just as flustered as you felt.

You both went back to watching the lake, sitting closer together now, your shoulders touching shyly. Occasionally, you pointed out a fish flopping in the water, stealing glances at each other and giggling nervously.

Logan watched you talk to Lily, both of you wearing smiles on your faces. You waved goodbye to her as she walked back to the side of Alex’s garage.

Looking back up, you noticed Logan watching you, and you flushed. Even now, he never failed to make you blush. He leaned against the counter, a relaxed smile on his face. “Hey, babe,” he said, reaching over to peck your lips.

“How are you feeling today?” you asked as he pulled away, your hand running along his arm.

“I think we can get up to at least P15,” he said, meeting your gaze and letting out a sigh.

You grabbed his hand and kissed the back of it. “You’re going to score points. I know it,” you said, giving his arm one last squeeze before he was beckoned to his car by the engineers.

You let out a breath, watching him get into the car. Quickly, you sent Oscar a text, knowing he wouldn’t see it until later.

Good luck, Oz. Love you.

Slipping on the headset, you listened in to the engineers. Each time Logan overtook another car, your heart squeezed, and your hands gripped your handbag tightly. By lap 56, Logan was in P10. Nico tried overtaking him, but Logan defended his position brilliantly. You shot up from your seat, cheering, and his mechanics did the same, celebrating his performance.

A few engineers came over to hug you as well. When Logan returned, drenched in sweat, he received pats and hugs from the pit crew members. Making his way towards the back of the garage, he smiled at you. “I’m all sweaty, babe,” he said.

“I don’t care, Logan,” you replied with a smile, pulling him into a hug. You whispered into his ear, “I knew it.”

He pulled away slightly, staring at you with a look of realization and love. In that moment, he knew he was going to propose.

-

You threw a pillow at Oscar’s face. “What should I wear, pants or a dress?” you asked.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Aren’t you just going to dinner?”

You rolled your eyes. “Knowing Logan, he’s going to want to dip his toes in the water.”

Oscar hummed in agreement. “Dress,” he decided, pulling out his phone to text Logan.

She has no clue. Stop stressing.

Logan replied quickly.

What color is she wearing? I want to match.

Oscar groaned. “Gross, happy couples,” he muttered.

You peeked your head out of the bathroom. “What?”

He flushed. “Nothing.”

“So, how do I look?” you asked, stepping out fully dressed. Oscar looked up from his phone lazily, giving you a thumbs-up.

You groaned, throwing another pillow at his head. “You are literally no help.”

Just then, the doorbell rang, and your mom called out that Logan was here. You dashed out of your room, making your way downstairs quickly.

Logan looked dashing, his shirt matching your dress perfectly. He held a bouquet of flowers and smiled warmly when he saw you. “For you, my love,” he said, handing you the flowers.

You pecked him on the lips and handed the flowers to your mom. “Mom, can you put these in water?” you asked.

She nodded, smiling. “Of course. You two have fun.”

Logan walked you to his car, opening the door for you. Once he got into the driver’s seat and started the car, you looked over at him. “So, where are we going?”

“Well, I got us dinner reservations, and then we can go for a walk on the beach,” he said, pulling away from the driveway.

After dinner, Logan drove you to a secluded part of the beach. The moonlight reflected off the water, casting a silvery glow over the sand. He took off his shoes, and you followed suit, both of you walking barefoot along the shore, the cool water lapping at your feet.

As you walked, you noticed a set of candles arranged in a heart shape on the sand ahead. You laughed, nudging Logan playfully. “Looks like someone’s getting proposed to tonight,” you joked.

Logan smiled, his eyes twinkling. “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?”

You turned to look at him, and your breath caught in your throat. Logan was down on one knee, holding a small box in his hand. “Y/N Piastri,” he began, his voice filled with emotion, “from the moment you stood up for me ten years ago, I knew you were someone special. You’ve been my rock, my best friend, and my greatest supporter.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as he continued. “We’ve grown up together. You make me a better person; I can’t imagine my life without you. You are my everything, and I want to spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you make me.”

He opened the box to reveal a beautiful ring. “Y/N, will you marry me?”

You nodded, your hands covering your mouth in shock and joy. “Yes, Logan! Yes, I will marry you!”

He slipped the ring onto your finger and stood up, pulling you into a tight embrace. You kissed, feeling the magic of the moment surround you. The awkwardness of your first kiss was a distant memory, replaced by the deep, unwavering love you shared.

Suddenly, you heard cheers and claps coming from behind the nearby dunes. You turned to see your family and Logan’s family emerging from their hiding spots, all of them beaming with happiness. Oscar was at the front, a proud smile on his face.

“Oh my god, you all were in on this?” you asked, laughing through your tears.

Oscar walked up to you, pulling you into a tight hug. “Of course we were. Logan wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You hugged him back, feeling a surge of gratitude and love. “Thanks, Oz. This means so much to me.”

Oscar pulled back, a teasing glint in his eye. “Just remember, you still owe me for all the times I covered for you two.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Deal.”

Your three sisters ran up to you next, each one taking turns to hug you tightly.

Logan stood back, watching the interaction with a warm smile. He shared a look with his own family, who were all just as thrilled. Your mom and dad approached, hugging both of you tightly.

“We’re so proud of you both,” your mom said, her voice choked with emotion.

Logan’s parents joined in, his mom wiping away tears. “Welcome to the family, Y/N,” she said, her smile radiant.

The moment was beautifully chaotic, with everyone talking, hugging, and celebrating at once. As the group settled down, Logan looked down at you, watching as you animatedly talked to your sister. In that moment, he knew he had made the right decision.

[moonlinos]

A dwindling, mercurial high

♡ Pairing: Bang Chan × fem!reader

♡ Genre: Childhood best friends, angst

♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), cheating, both Chan and Reader are morally gray characters, mentions of smoking, drinking, fingering, hand job, unprotected sex

♡ Word count: 10.1k

♡ Synopsis: Despite his love for you since childhood, Chan silently watched from the sidelines as you fell in love with your mutual friend. Your happiness has always been his priority, even at the expense of his own. But he can only endure the pain with a smile on his face for so long. With your growing realization that your fiancé is no longer the man you once loved, his longing to finally escape his torment and confess his feelings becomes unbearable.

♡ A/N: Based off a request by anon! Thank you for requesting 🩷 Cheating is bad, kids, this is fiction. Sorry to my boy Changbin, I used a random wheel to decide who would be the other member 🥲 I’ll focus on lighter stories now ‘cause I feel like this one turned out heavier than I anticipated lol

Chan has known you since he was ten years old.

He’s sure he has been in love with you for just as long.

He wouldn’t be able to give an exact date; loving you has simply always been a part of his life. Your smile that’s engraved in his mind, your laughter he’s memorized, your mind which still fascinates him after so many years — it all wraps around his heart like a vice, making him a willing captive to this one-sided love.

For Chan, love is selflessness; sacrificing anything for the happiness of the one he loves. He doesn’t know anything but loving you, and his unwavering dedication to your happiness has led him to sacrifice his own for years.

Unbeknownst to you, Chan has been withering away slowly as you’ve grown happier.

But your happiness and his unrequited love never truly hurt him until the age of twenty.

It was Minho’s birthday, and he played the best friend card to convince Chan to buy fake IDs from a sketchy guy at their university. Your friend group drove to a deserted parking lot after buying far too much alcohol — Chan remembers the recurring thought inside his fuzzy mind was how much that situation would validate your parents’ scorching hatred for him if they were to find out.

You had your head on his shoulder, sitting on the bed of Minho’s truck, watching as the rest of your friends suffered the consequences of their indulgence. Chan’s face lit up with a smile at the sound of your giggle when Miyeon yelled at Changbin for being so loud, threatening to destroy his beloved girl group albums if he didn’t shut up.

Chan’s emotions always mirrored your own; so long as you had a smile on your face, he swore he could find joy even in the worst situations.

Even when you unknowingly shattered his heart into a million pieces, your happiness still brought him joy.

“I never got around to finishing my story,” you told him, words slurred and voice hoarse from singing at a noraebang earlier that night. “I only said I had a crush, but I never elaborated.”

Chan didn’t want you to elaborate.

But he knew how much you loved talking to him. Be it the weight of your indecision about your path in life or the lightheartedness of your romantic endeavors, you shared everything with him. You always said Chan was the best listener because he knew when his silence was better than any word. He knew that once your heart was set on something, there was no use trying to untangle your mind from the roots of that conviction.

So he hummed, prompting you to continue. “It’s been a while since you had a crush.”

“It sounds so lame, doesn’t it?” You scoffed, “Aren’t we too old for crushes?”

“No one’s ever too old for that,” he shrugged. “I think if you don’t allow yourself these light-hearted feelings, love will only become heavy. That’s never good.”

You placed your hand in his, playing with his fingers as a smile spread across your lips. Chan always hoped you couldn’t hear the way his heart thumped loudly against his chest whenever you touched him. 

“You’re so weirdly wise for your age.”

“And you’re so weirdly avoiding the subject,” Chan pointed out. “Come on, you never hesitated telling me shit like this. Hell, you proudly admitted to your crush on that old ass teacher when we were sixteen.”

You sat up straight, groaning at the unwelcome memory, and Chan huffed a laugh at the pout on your lips.

“I know, it’s just…”

“Just?”

“It’s someone you know,” you offered, and Chan furrowed his brows.

“That wouldn’t be a first.”

He noticed the way your hands tensed up, their grip on his fingers tightening and fidgeting nervously. You were anxious, and Chan wasn’t sure he wanted to know the reason why.

“It’s someone from our group.”

The way he froze was obvious, and your hands stilled on top of his. To this day, he hates everything about that moment: how you were so apprehensive about sharing something so trivial with him, how he selfishly felt a twinge of jealousy, and most importantly, how he could tell you were upset.

Chan promptly put aside his own feelings, having mastered this skill to the point where he could effortlessly do it. You seemed happy whenever you mentioned this crush, and he didn’t want to be the reason that happiness faded away. He laced your fingers together and offered you a smile, hoping you would reciprocate the gesture. You did, and he felt his chest blossoming with a blend of relief and melancholy.

“It’s Changbin,” you confessed, and Chan’s face remained unchanged. His smile didn’t so much as falter at your words. It often scared him how easy it had become to feign something as significant as his own emotions when it came to you. “I don’t know when it started, but I just… I really like him.”

Chan had seen you go through a couple of short-lived relationships and countless crushes that usually led nowhere; the sting of seeing you infatuated with someone else was an ache he’d long grown accustomed to. He often struggled to understand why your heart had chosen to love the people it did. It was easy to tease you and cope with the hurt when Chan knew it was only a matter of time before you realized you deserved more.

But that situation was different. This time, he could understand. Changbin was one of his best friends, after all. How would he endure the hurt when he knew Changbin was practically a mirror image of your ideal type? He was always in a good mood, always fun to be around and never failed to make anyone laugh. Chan had no doubts about how he would bend his back just to care for his friends — the day he failed his first class at university, Changbin paid his bill at the bar and carried a drunken, crying Chan home on his back.

Unlike it had been with Chan for the past ten years, your parents immediately fell in love with Changbin.

As he heard you eagerly talk about your crush on your friend that night, Chan kept his facade of the perfect best friend. His laughter and words perfectly matched your enthusiasm. Among the rain of anguish, the drop of bliss that fell onto his heart as he saw you smile again, your worry thoroughly gone, was enough to soothe his aching heart.

Because Chan’s emotions mirrored your own, and so he made it his mission to make you happy.

Even if it was with someone else.

Chan never would have guessed that you and Changbin would go beyond a simple crush.

He never would have believed if he was told your relationship would evolve beyond just hooking up.

And never in his wildest dream did he imagine that you would become engaged to him.

Yet, here he sits, six years after initially finding out about your crush, helping you choose flower arrangements for your wedding.

“I think Bin would definitely want some pink flowers,” you comment with a hum, the florist nodding along with a smile. Chan holds back a sigh. “But wouldn’t that look weird with the light blue theme?”

“I think blue and pink go great together!” The florist assures you, her excitement palpable when she starts rambling about different shades and flowers that would beautifully complement your dream wedding dress.

Chan zones out, blurry eyes focused on a single red rose that rests on the wooden table. He was understandably taken aback when you chose him as your man of honor. Miyeon had always been your closest female friend, so it was only natural that he assumed you would choose her as the maid of honor. Despite disapproval from both you and Changbin’s families, you remained unwavering in your decision. Chan knew you better than anyone in the world, you argued, therefore he was the best possible choice. The sentiment was sweet, but it didn’t lessen the ache in his heart.

As if watching you marry another man wasn’t punishing enough, he now had to help you plan the ceremony.

Your laughter brings him back to the present moment, and he quickly rises from his chair, realizing you’re already heading towards the door. Chan clears his throat, shooting the florist a small smile before walking out with you.

As soon as you step onto the streets, you ask, “You were spacing out the entire time, weren’t you?”

Chan feigns offense, clutching at his chest. “What? Of course not!” He shakes his head, and you let out a chuckle. “I was totally paying attention. Blue dress, pink flowers. I got it all memorized, don’t worry.”

“So you noticed how she was shamelessly ogling you the entire time, right?”

Absentmindedly, Chan cocks his head to the side, furrowing his brows in confusion. You narrow your eyes at him, and his expression immediately shifts into a grin.

“Ah, that. Yeah, I noticed,” he shrugs. “It was your choice to have me as your man of honor.”

You bump your shoulders together, chuckling. “I guess I should’ve known. Since you’re not my fiancé, you’ll have to endure a lot of women flirting with you.”

As your words hit him, Chan clenches his jaw, suppressing the foolish pain that wells up in his chest. He is not your fiancé; he is well aware of that, but he can’t help the sharp twinge of hurt that washes over him whenever you remind him of that fact.

He silently drives you to the gym that he and Changbin opened two years ago. It was a last-ditch effort to create something that was their own rather than succumbing to a soulless office job. Starting out in a small rundown house on a sketchy street, with barely any money for proper equipment, they could never have predicted how perfectly everything would work out.

As Chan parks in front of the building, you beam while taking the notes from the florist out of your bag, eager to share them with Changbin. You two scour the gym from top to bottom, but he’s nowhere to be found. Upon asking their receptionist, they’re informed that Changbin had left a couple of hours earlier, not giving further explanations. Chan hates the familiar sight of your smile dropping, your excitement ebbing away as you carefully tuck away your notes into your bag.

Changbin has become unusually distant lately — not only toward you but everything in general. He rarely sets foot in the gym nowadays, only popping in to ensure everything is in order before hurriedly rushing off to who knows where. Chan hopes it’s only the pre-wedding nerves getting to him, and not something that will leave you shattered and heartbroken on what is supposed to be the happiest day of your life.

But that’s all he can do — cling to that hope.

Because, deep down, Chan’s mind is filled with worries that run deeper than he will ever let on. Changbin has always been an absurdly impulsive person. The fear that his friend might be regretting his decision to propose is always lingering in the back of his mind, like a persistent echo, tormenting him and gradually eroding his heart.

He doesn’t know if he can bear to see you hurt.

He certainly doesn’t want to think about what he would do if Changbin ever dared to break your heart.

Chan hates the way you easily brush off your disappointment even more, turning to flash a bright smile at him as soon as the notes are out of your sight.

“I’ll just see him at home later tonight anyway,” you simply say. “There’s no rush.”

Over the past months, Chan has seen you dismiss your own feelings regarding your fiancé countless times, so much so that he can’t even count them on one hand. From Changbin’s constant broken promises to his complete indifference toward anything related to his own wedding, the way it upsets you is evident. Still, your dismissal of it all makes him hesitant to even mention it.

Helplessly, he can’t do anything but watch, just as he has been doing for the past six years.

A week later, the sound of the doorbell jolts Chan awake at 2 a.m.

Right after getting home from the gym, he collapsed onto the couch and dozed off before he realized. All the work he had to tackle alone left him drained. It was yet another day when Changbin vanished in the late afternoon without so much as an excuse.

Chan rushes toward the door, expecting an emergency, only to find you standing alone in the dimly lit hallway. His initial reaction was confusion; you had a spare key, after all. But as the light from his apartment hits your face, red-rimmed, teary eyes meet his own, and Chan instinctively wraps his arms around you. 

You two remain in a silent embrace for a while, with Chan selfishly reveling in the feeling of your body pressed against his. Despite your vulnerable state, he can’t help but run a hand down your back, savoring your warmth and intoxicating scent that surrounds him.

You used to hold each other frequently when you were young, thinking nothing of it and simply seeking comfort in each other’s arms. But as you entered your late teens, the tension between you became almost palpable. You no longer sought his arms solely for comfort, and that was obvious to Chan. It was obvious because he was the same. Innocent hugs evolved into wandering hands and limbs tangling in ways that were anything but platonic.

At that time, he almost thought he had stood a chance.

Until graduation day, when you two hid away inside an empty classroom, with you sat on a desk and Chan slotted between your thighs, holding you against his chest as you cried. You were always terrified of change, and school ending was an unavoidable one that had been looming over your head for a while until it snapped.

That day, you almost kissed him, your lips mere inches from his as he gripped your waist nervously, his eyes foolishly fluttering closed in anticipation.

But you pulled away, pushing him back with a whispered apology.

After that day, that habit Chan loved so much slowly faded away.

Chan hates how he has every curve of your body memorized, but rarely has the privilege of feeling you this close to him anymore.

You pull away abruptly, much like you did when you were eighteen, clearing your throat and entering his apartment without uttering a word.

Closing the door behind him, he joins you on the couch, where you sit nervously, bouncing your leg.

“What happened?” He asks, although deep down, he already knows the answer. Your only answer is a half-hearted shrug, so Chan hesitantly continues, “Is this about the wedding?”

He doesn’t miss the way your eyes well up, but you swiftly blink away any tears that threaten to spill over. Once again, Chan takes your dismissal of your own emotions as a sign for him to keep quiet.

Except this time, you don’t.

“Changbin asked to postpone the wedding,” you simply tell him.

A surge of anger washes over Chan like a tidal wave, pushing him to walk out of his apartment right now just to punch his friend in the jaw. You’re sad — Changbin made you sad. No matter how hard Chan tries or how much he sacrifices, moments like these always serve as a sour reminder that your happiness isn’t solely dependent on him.

He despises these moments.

“I feel like he’s so different. Even before proposing,” you murmur, lowering your head and focusing on your nails, nervously picking at your chipped nail polish. “We hardly ever go on dates and he never makes jokes or does silly shit to make me laugh anymore. I know it’s stupid and even a bit selfish, but I miss those things.”

You let out a heavy sigh and slowly looked up to meet Chan’s gaze. He silently wishes he could absorb all the hurt you feel.

“That’s the man that made me want to stay for six years, and he’s just… gone.”

Chan nervously gnaws on his bottom lip, as if that will consume the words in his throat before they slip out. But these words have been lingering on the tip of his tongue for over five months. Ever since you gathered your little friend group in your living room on a rainy Sunday evening, beaming as you and Changbin announced your engagement.

Tonight, these unspoken words finally escape his lips.

“Why did you accept the proposal, then?” He asks softly.

You let out a bitter scoff and sink lower into his couch.

“Guess I thought that man would magically come back the moment I said yes. But he didn’t,” you shake your head. “So I ignored it, assured myself he would come back once I said ‘I do’. Now, I’m not even sure…” You trail off, pursing your lips as the sentence dissipates into the air.

He remembers the early years of your relationship with Changbin. You would call Chan just to swoon over his charming personality and jokingly scold him for keeping your boyfriend at the gym until late at night. He recalls how you used to melt at his sweet gestures, like bringing you a cup of coffee after your shift or carrying you up to your apartment when you dozed off in the car. A few months ago, he noticed your avoidance whenever Changbin was brought up, and your usual long-winded stories about him were now replaced with short answers.

But he remained quiet, like he’d always done.

A few minutes pass before you speak again, and your words strike him like an unexpected left hook, knocking the air out of his lungs.

“I thought about ending things a lot,” you confess, “When I noticed this change wasn’t wavering, I was ready to leave.”

“But you didn’t,” Chan counters.

Your lips curl into a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes as you slowly nod. “But I didn’t,” you simply say. “I was afraid of what that would do to our friend group. It’s stupid, right?” You rhetorically ask.

When your gazes meet, your eyes are devoid of any emotion, a stark contrast to the usual spark he’s always loved. It’s as if you’ve abandoned any hope you had left inside of you, and his heart sinks.

“I didn’t want things to change because of me.”

Chan sighs. “You shouldn’t sacrifice your own happiness for the sake of others,” he tells you, and the irony isn’t lost on him. He inwardly grimaces, because isn’t that exactly what he has been doing for most of his life?

But it’s different, he rationalizes. It’s different because it’s you.

“You know me, Chan,” you huff out, wrapping your arms around yourself as frustration slowly consumes you. “I hate making people sad, hate knowing things are worse because of me.”

That’s just another of the many things Chan hates — how fucking similar you and he are.

“That’s why everybody says you shouldn’t date your friends, huh?” You let out a bitter scoff. “It never works out. Just fucks everything up.”

Chan bites down on his bottom lip so hard he swears he tastes blood on his tongue.

“That’s not always the case,” he’s quick to add. “Remember when Jun and Miyeon dated? They broke up and things were awkward for a while but—”

“They were together for a few months, Chan, not six years,” you interrupt him with a scowl. “If Changbin and I had broken up, our little group would’ve been just as affected as us. People would pick sides, try to place the blame on someone, and things would inevitably change.”

“Things are bound to change at some point,” he reasons. “We’re not in college anymore.”

Chan is certain there’s something more stopping you from ending your relationship, but he’s afraid you’re also unsure of that reason.

“I love Changbin,” you suddenly say, turning your body to face Chan. “This is stupid, I’m sorry I came here in the first place. He’s just stressed, he’s gonna come back one day—”

“Stop talking like that,” Chan cuts you off, voice louder than he intended. You slowly tilt your head to the side, eyeing him with confusion. “Stop talking like Changbin isn’t here, like he’s distant because he has no choice. He hasn’t gone anywhere. He’s still here, and he’s still distant.”

You divert your eyes, focusing on a spot behind Chan, making him wonder if he crossed a line. When the seconds tick by and you remain silent, he braces himself to watch you leave.

Instead, you whisper, “I know.”

“I would never treat you like this,” he absentmindedly says, his own eyes wandering aimlessly around his living room, looking anywhere but at you. If he tries hard enough, he can almost pretend that he isn’t saying these words to you, that he isn’t essentially confessing his repressed feelings to his best friend, who is already engaged. “Would never propose to you and have you plan the fucking wedding only to ask you to postpone it,” he lets out a scoff, his face contorting with disdain. “Fuck off. Postpone it? Changbin’s a coward.”

“I feel so alone,” you admit, seemingly ignoring his unprompted soliloquy. “You know I hate feeling alone. If I were to end things with Changbin now, after all these years, I know this loneliness would kill me.”

And you’re right; Chan knows better than anyone how much you hate feeling alone. Whenever your parents had to leave for business trips or vacations, you would seek refuge at his house to avoid being alone. When your roommate kicked you out of your dorm during university, you begged him to sleep with you in the study area so you wouldn’t be alone in the dark.

The thought of you spending your days alone in your apartment and sleeping by yourself at night makes Chan feel as if his heart is being trampled on.

“You’re not alone. I’m here,” he assures you, his eyes finally lifting to meet your gaze. “I’ve been here since we were kids, and I’m not going anywhere.”

A giggle suddenly escapes from your lips, and your hand rests on his arm. Your gaze shifts to where your fingers delicately trace patterns on the sleeve of his shirt.

“Remember when we were thirteen? We promised to get married if we were still alone when we were adults.”

Chan nods slowly, and an uneasy feeling washes over him. It’s been years since you’ve been this physically close to him, toying with the fabric of his shirt and saying words that foolishly make him think you might be flirting with him. Why must you bring this up now? Now, when you’re certainly not alone, but very much engaged to one of your mutual friends.

“I feel like every childhood friend makes that silly promise,” he tries to deflect, a forced chuckle leaving his lips. Nevertheless, the small smile on your lips lingers as you dismissively shrug at his words.

“It wasn’t silly to me,” you argue. “I meant it. Especially when I realized you were the only one who always stayed, even when everyone else seemed to leave me.”

He only now realizes how you’ve inched even closer to him, your foot softly brushing along his leg and your fingertips now delicately gliding along his arms, causing goosebumps to ripple across his skin. The small voice of reason inside his already clouded mind desperately urges him to back away, but his body refuses to move.

And then you gently intertwine your fingers with his and finally meet his eyes. Chan instinctively closes the small distance between you, his shoulder brushing against yours as you shift on the couch to throw your legs over his lap like you used to do when you were kids — except now, the gesture is anything but innocent, the air almost suffocating Chan with a looming sense of anticipation.

“Y’know, my mom was so happy when I told her I was dating Changbin,” you huff out a laugh at the memory, and Chan’s lips twitch into a small scowl. Although you speak as though this is news to him, he’s fully aware of what you’re referring to. He was sitting in your bedroom with you the day you told your mom. He knows what you’re alluding to, and he knows it’s wrong, but he finds himself simply nodding along to your words. “She was laughing about how scared she was that I would pick you. She was so sure we would end up together, and she hated it.”

It was never a secret how much your parents disliked Chan, although he never understood their reasons. Your mom always treated him with just enough feigned kindness that it wasn’t a glaring disdain, but you were quick to tell him all the things they would whisper behind his back.

Chan gently brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingertips then gliding along your face, tracing a path from the curve of your ear to your cheek. His eyes carefully follow his movements, and you suck in a breath, leaning into the touch.

“I also kind of hoped for that,” he mutters, barely audible.

“I’m so lonely, Chan,” you whisper back, and he feels every corner of his heart shatter into a million little pieces. The way your eyes glisten with unshed tears in the dim lighting of his living room finally has his resolve crumbling.

“You’re not alone,” he reiterates. “I’m here.”

Before he can stop himself, Chan closes the small distance between you and crashes his lips to yours. Just as guilt begins to course through his veins, you tug at his shirt, pulling him even closer until you ultimately climb onto his lap. Chan’s lips delicately brush against yours at first, but the kiss soon grows feverish. His hunger for you has been building inside of him for an eternity, and now that he’s finally tasted you, the all-consuming desire to have you overrides any remaining rationality in his mind.

His tongue glides along the seam of your lips before slipping into your mouth, and he all but growls at the feeling. Your fingers tighten their grip on his shirt, digging into the fabric while you let out the sweetest sound Chan has ever heard.

You slowly grind in his lap, and his hands grip your hips tightly, his cock twitching even at the soft movement. A surge of clarity washes over him, and he wonders how something this wrong can feel so good. Wonders why Changbin was lucky enough to have you like this whenever he wanted, while he was left to pine and yearn for years.

“What are we doing?” He asks between kisses, and you let out a shuddering sigh, shaking your head.

You whisper, “I don’t know. Just want you.”

A small part of Chan wants to push you away, knowing you’re simply seeking solace in him, desperately searching in him for what you no longer have with Changbin. But a bigger part of him has been yearning to have you for far too long to refuse your request.

He drowns out every faint whisper of reason in his head and slots his lips over yours once more, your soft moans traveling straight to his cock. Slipping your hands underneath his shirt, your palms raise toward his chest, nails lightly grazing his skin before trailing down the tense muscles of his abdomen. Chan whines when your fingertips brush against his clothed cock, already achingly hard in the confines of his pants. It was almost pitiful how effortlessly you made him desperate, his thoughts consumed with only you.

You break the kiss to pull down the straps of your dress, unhurriedly, eyeing him with a grin while he watches the thin fabric pool around your thighs.

“Y’know I always wondered what it’d be like,” you breathe out, and Chan’s lips fall open as you gently palm him through his sweatpants. “Always thought about what it’d feel like to have you fuck me.”

“Fuck,” he rasps out, cock swelling further in your hands when you squeeze his length. “Don’t say shit like that.”

You simply giggle, and Chan lets out a low groan, grinding his hips into your hand, desperately seeking more friction. He doesn’t want to think about the weight of that statement — not when your fingertips brush against his lower stomach, teasingly toying with the waistband of his sweatpants before finally pushing it down, gripping his cock in your hand. Chan hisses, his hold on your hips tightening while you glide your hand along his length, finding a slow, tantalizing rhythm as you begin to stroke him.

He feels as if his hands are tied by silent guilt, as if touching you any more will somehow make everything too real. But you press your lips to his like it’s second nature, swirling your tongue in his mouth just as your thumb swipes across his slit, gathering a drop of precum before smearing it down his shaft. It’s too much, and Chan groans into the kiss, finally allowing himself to touch you.

Carefully, his hands travel from your hips up to your stomach, caressing the soft skin. The way you feel underneath his fingertips has him drunk with lust, like a flood of long-awaited desire and longing finally being released.

“Touch me,” you whisper, words almost muffled by his lips. “Please.”

And Chan’s never been able to deny you.

His fingers skim over your breasts, trembling hands squeezing through the delicate lace of your bra. Your body eagerly responds to his touch, your nipples pebbling beneath his hands and a soft sigh falling from your lips. It feels like heaven to know that he’s the one coaxing these sounds out of you, and it’s enough to snuff out any trace of guilt Chan had remaining inside of him. As he pinches your nipples, rolling them gently between his fingertips, a surge of pleasure shoots through your body, making you jerk on his lap, your grip on his cock tightening.

Chan grins. “I thought about it too,” he admits, words softly whispered as he leans closer and presses his forehead against yours. “Thought about fucking you so much it almost drove me insane.”

These confessions are only half-surprising if Chan were completely honest with himself. He knew exactly where his mind wandered whenever you two got tangled up in his bed when you were teens, and he convinced himself you were the same. At that time, it was merely an attempt to alleviate the guilt he felt for having those thoughts about you.

But this confirmation was all he needed to truly surrender to his selfish hunger.

His hand slowly moves down your stomach, edging closer and closer to your panties. Your eyes remain locked on his, your heavy breathing brushing against his lips when his fingers tentatively slip beneath the soft fabric.

“Can I?” He whispers, and you nod, stroking him almost feverishly as your eyes become completely lust-clouded.

Chan’s fingers slide between your slick folds, a guttural moan reverberating through his chest, his cock twitching under your fingers.

“Holy shit, you’re soaking wet,” he groaned, his thumb softly pressing down on your clit, causing you to grind your hips into his hand.

“Chan,” you breathe out.

Your once deliberate strokes fizzled out into languid touches, but Chan couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when you were this fucking wet, all because of him.

“Tell me what you want,” he hums, pressing a small kiss to your open lips. He grins when your only response is a whine, rolling your hips forward once more. “Tell me.”

“Want you, Chan,” you choke out, “Want anything you wanna give me.”

Chan bites back a growl, slowly sliding a finger inside of you, your walls greedily clenching around it while your hips begin rocking in his lap, his thumb circling your clit. He can feel your arousal coating his finger, curling the digit before pulling away only to push back in again, two fingers now gently pumping in and out of you.

Pressing his lips to your throat, Chan grapples with the overwhelming need to mark you, bite and suck on your sensitive skin until it bloomed in hues of red and purple when you moaned so sweetly for him. The thought of Changbin coming home only to find you claimed by him had Chan groaning against the pulse of your neck, his cock throbbing in your hand just as your palm languidly circles the swollen head.

“Wanna make love to you,” he murmurs against your skin, leaving soft kisses up your throat until his lips are pressing against yours. Love — as if this was anything like love. “I need to,” he all but begs, and you hastily nod, tugging his shirt over his head and crashing your lips together.

Chan pushes your body down onto the couch, his heavy-lidded eyes dark like the shadows that covered his living room as he stares down at you. He’s wanted this for so long, dreaming and fantasizing about it to the point of pitifulness. Yet now, he hesitates. It’s almost as if everything else you have done tonight could be forgotten — maybe even forgiven — but the moment the images from his daydreams stumbled out into the real world, everything would truly be ruined.

“Chan,” your voice brings him back to the moment, his gaze softening at the way you looked up at him. “Don’t overthink this.”

He bends his face to yours, huffing out a breath. “It’s kinda hard not to.”

“Worry about tomorrow when tomorrow comes,” you whisper, and Chan smiles. He slides a hand through your hair, brushing a stray piece from your eyes.

His focus is quickly brought back to the scorching heat of his cock resting against your lower stomach, precum dripping from the tip and gathering on your skin. Gently brushing against your lower lip with the pad of his thumb, he fits himself between your open thighs, and you press a chaste kiss to his fingertip.

Chan effortlessly lifts you, blunt nails sinking into the soft skin of your ass as he watches you slide your panties down your thighs before he aligns your hips with his. He glides his cock along your folds, teasing your clit with each movement. The heat from your arousal coating him seems to sear into his skin, and he immerses himself in his desire even deeper. He carefully studies your features when you squeeze his shoulders, eyes tracing a slow path down your face, and Chan is certain he wouldn’t mind waging a war against every inconvenient obstacle that kept him from seeing that glint of bliss on your eyes every day.

His tip grazes your entrance as he pulls back, lips tracing along your skin before slowly pushing into you. As much as Chan wants to take his time, savor the experience and explore every inch of your body until it becomes seared into his memory, he knows he won’t be able to do that tonight. Years of yearning and longing finally came pouring out, consuming him with the want to selfishly chase this long-desired feeling.

When his hips meet yours, he takes your hand in his, guiding it to press on your lower abdomen. Your lips fall open slightly, the feeling of his cock pressing against your belly causing your eyes to flutter shut, and Chan’s arousal becomes almost unbearable. It was almost like a false testament, fooling him into believing you were finally one, even though it was nothing but a pretty lie.

“We’re a perfect fit. Shit,” Chan hisses, your inner muscles clenching around him at his words.

His thumb pressed firmly against your throbbing clit as he began rolling his hips, falling into a gentle and steady tempo. Your legs wrap around his body, hips rolling up and silently urging him to move faster, matching the rhythm of his unspoken longing. 

“Chan, please,” your voice chokes out. You intertwine your fingers together, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, eyes looking at him almost pleadingly. “Need you to fuck me.”

He snaps at your soft plea, pulling back and thrusting into you harshly, barely retreating from your wetness before plunging back in. Your nails dig into his skin, scoring lines down his chest while your other hand squeezes his. Chan winces at the sting but revels in the fact that you’re marking him — something he could only ever dream of doing to you.

He reluctantly lets go of your hand to firmly grasp your ass, forcefully lifting your hips to draw you even closer to him, fingernails etching crescent moons into your soft skin in an almost petulant attempt at claiming you as his. At least for tonight. Chan’s thumb rubs circles around your clit, bringing you closer to the edge of your orgasm. His grip on your skin tightens, pulling your body toward him almost desperately. His thrusts soon grow sloppy, his once deliberate rhythm long forgotten as his control quickly ebbs away.

“Got no idea what you do to me,” Chan grunts, pressing his forehead to yours. “If you were mine— fuck,” He hisses when you clench around him at his words — at the idea of being his. “I’d be so good to you. Fuck you like this every night.”

You attempt to call out his name, but the sound dies at your throat with a whine. Looking for purchase among his forceful thrusts, your hands travel up his chest and clutch at his shoulders with a tight grip.

“Then fuck me like I’m yours,” you choke out, hooking your ankles behind him to keep him as close to you as possible. Chan’s only response is a low, guttural growl, which is soon swallowed by your sighs as he crashes his lips into yours.

You arch your back, breaking the kiss with a cry, muscles tightening while Chan continues to plunge into you at a merciless rhythm. Your cunt throbs around his length, the relentless pressure of his finger on your clit sending shivers of euphoria through your entire body, drawing out your climax. Chan feels lightheaded, the beautiful sight of your orgasm enough to drive him to the edge.

As his cock twitches inside of you, he reluctantly leans back, rising to his knees and wrapping his fingers around his length, stroking himself over your body while you watch him with half-lidded eyes. A low sound rumbles within Chan’s chest as his hips jerk against his fist. His release spills from his cock and paints your stomach with milky streaks of his cum, finally marking you as his.

At least for tonight.

Even though it’s nothing but a pretty lie.

As you wake up, the unfamiliar sensation of sunlight streaming through the window hits your tired eyes. Panic washes over you for a beat as you take in the feeling of an unfamiliar bed, but a familiar scent soon envelops you, instantly soothing you. Not waking up alone also feels unfamiliar, but it’s a welcomed unfamiliarity. You turn your body towards the person next to you, and you’re greeted by Chan, peacefully asleep with a small smile on his lips. A grin slowly spreads across your face too.

It had been so long since you were this close to him, even longer since you woke up beside him. Sleepovers were common during your childhood, but they naturally stopped as you grew older. You were nineteen the last time you lied next to Chan like this, drunk on cheap beer and cramped next to him on a worn-out couch of some fraternity house. You remember how his chest slowly rising and falling somehow felt like home, and how his soft snores lulled you into sleep.

Your love for Chan has always been greater than you’ve let on.

Your vicious need to please those around you hindered your ability to express how much you loved him. Your parents hated him since you were fifteen. Catching Chan smoking with a group of boys from your school behind the mall cemented their opinion of him. Despite his ‘bad influence’, they reluctantly allowed your friendship to continue, with the condition that you wouldn’t be swayed by his bad ways.

If only they knew what you did last night.

If only they knew how you were the one to incite him, letting your own bad ways tarnish him.

As your eyes flutter closed, memories of the night before flood your mind; Chan’s hands on your body, his hungry kisses, and the way he fucked you until you felt intoxicated. But the feeling of bliss swirling in your chest quickly dissipates, replaced by the weight of guilt, crushing your ribs and knocking the air from your lungs. Your eyes snap open, and you sit up on the bed with a shuddering sigh. Even the feeling of Chan’s clothes clinging to your body makes you feel dirty.

Beside you, Chan groans, your sudden movements having disturbed his sleep.

“What time is it?” He rasps out. The sound of his voice alone nearly makes you flinch. As his fingertips graze your arm, you instinctively withdraw as if his touch scorched your skin. Chan sits up as well. “What’s wrong?”

You almost scoff at his words.

“Nothing,” you lie, throwing the covers off your body. You frantically search his bedroom until your eyes land on your dress draped over a chair.

You take off Chan’s shirt in haste, spitefully throwing the fabric on the floor as though it embodied your every sin. As if removing it from your body would somehow absolve you from what you chose to do last night. Just as you reach to undo the drawstrings of his sweatpants, his touch lingers on your skin again. You can’t help but flinch once more.

“Hey, calm down. Please, talk to me,” Chan’s soft voice only intensifies the anguish in your chest.

“Don’t touch me,” you mumble, tears gathering in your eyes as remorse gathers in your throat until it feels as if you’re suffocating. Chan removes his hands from your arm but remains beside you. “What the fuck did we do? We betrayed his trust, we betrayed…” you trail off, because you can’t even bring yourself to say Changbin’s name out loud. Finally, you turn to face Chan, shaking your head in disbelief. “He’s our friend. He’s my fucking fiancé.”

Chan stays silent. Tears stream out of your eyes, cascading down your cheeks and onto the floor. Your shoulders tremble, and each breath you take cannot fill your lungs enough to ease the weight on your chest. Chan stands in front of you, his tear-filled eyes mirroring his own heartbreak, evident in every corner of his face. He reaches out to you several times, but his hands only clench into fists and drop by his sides every time.

He helplessly watches as your tears fall over something that was a choice. A momentary bliss, a whim that has proven to be unnecessary, even though your feelings for Chan have always gone beyond platonic. How you wish you could go back in time and prioritize your own happiness instead of constantly sacrificing it for the sake of others. But you can’t, and the once beautiful love you had for Chan now only feels tainted.

He watches you silently, unmoving until you finally swallow enough tears to choke out, “Please hold me.”

And Chan does, cold hands wrapping around your trembling body as fresh tears pour out of your eyes, cascade down your cheeks and onto his shirt.

  You cry the entire afternoon, guilt becoming a ghost that haunts you as you pad around Chan’s apartment. Yet you can’t bring yourself to leave his side. Soon, his clothes stopped feeling like a vice tightening around your neck and transformed into a soothing embrace.

The only words you exchange are over cold leftover pizza. Chan says it’s best to just pretend the previous night never even happened. You’re quick to tell him you don’t want that.

“It was a mistake,” he quietly told you.

“It was a choice,” you corrected him. “And I’m happy I did it.”

And that’s the worst part of it all; you don’t regret having sex with Chan. You regret the cheating, the pain this would cause Changbin if he knew, and you especially dread the scrutiny you would face if people were to find out. But not even for a second do you feel any regret about Chan.

Before you know it, it’s already dark out. You find yourself staring out the window, pulling at the hem of Chan’s shirt that still hugs your frame.

You don’t want to go back home.

Four messages from Changbin apologizing for not coming home last night greet you every time you unlock your phone.

Changbin: hey baby, sorry Changbin: there was a huge fight at the bar, seungmin was bloody on the floor before i knew it Changbin: had to stay and take care of him after i took him home Changbin: i’m so sorry. i’ll make it up to you. love you

You ignore them every time. You don’t feel bad about it.

“I don’t wanna go back home,” you mumble to yourself. Behind you, Chan hums softly.

It feels like an eternity before he finally breaks the silence.

“Then don’t go.”

So you don’t.

Time slips away from your hands, and suddenly a week has gone by. You stay at Chan’s apartment, working from his computer, eating his food, and wearing his clothes. He makes love to you and you sleep in his bed every night.

You avoid every mirror and close every curtain as if that will shield you from your sins.

For so much time, it felt as if you were crawling through endless days, constantly brushing aside the things that upset you, things you fruitlessly wished you could change. All while forcing a smile that long stopped being sincere. This week, your smile was tightly bound to a warmth in your heart that had been absent for far too long.

Cooped up inside Chan’s apartment like a fugitive from your own mistakes, you were finally happy.

You have always lived a life driven by the desire to please others. From the university you attended to the man you chose to be with; everything was carefully thought out to ensure the happiness of those around you. Was it a wonder you were so soulless?

Is it a wonder you found bliss in doing something so selfish for the first time in your life? Every time Chan touched you, it was like a small light was ignited inside you.

Changbin’s messages sat unread in your phone; the only ones he sent you the entire week. 

  You chose to return home the day your mother called you to ask about the wedding. Chan drove you in silence while you clutched his hand.

As soon as you step into your apartment, it’s as if all the light Chan brought back into your life the past week is snuffed out. You glance around the dark living room, your eyes then traveling toward your bedroom, only being met by more darkness. Seems your fiancé still hasn’t come back.

Changbin going to that bar was the catalyst for your spiral of mistakes. He’s often gone to bars, and you never thought much of it, until he started prioritizing his time with his friends over time with you. That night, you had asked him to stay in for a change, suggesting you could watch a movie and order too much food like you used to do when you first moved in together. He said he would love that, but that night was really important. Apparently, Jisung needed help chatting up the bartender, and that was crucial in his road to getting over his ex. Apparently, that was more important than spending time with you.

You were arguing before you knew it. Although you did most of the talking, so it felt more like a helpless monologue than a proper fight. Changbin hated fights, and had mastered the art of dismissing things and never addressing them again. He was out the door right after nonchalantly asking you to postpone the wedding.

“I’m not in the right headspace to deal with shit like that now,” he’d said, and you scoffed at how he referred to your wedding.

“Flower arrangements, color schemes, guest lists… I’d rather do anything else but that right now. My friends need me,” Changbin continued after you remained silent, because you knew you would only end up arguing with him again if you were to speak. He spoke as if you didn’t need him.

“Jisung is finally taking the steps to get over that shitty ex of his and you know Chan can’t run the gym without me,” were the last words he muttered before pressing a kiss to your forehead and leaving you alone for yet another night.

The mention of his name was all it took for you to run out the door and into Chan’s apartment.

After dragging yourself toward your bathroom for a quick shower, you berate yourself for feeling disappointed in the feeling of your own pajamas against your skin. After a week of being enveloped in Chan’s scent, the smell of your clothes seems almost foreign.

Even as you lie in bed, it somehow feels even colder now than it did during all the countless nights when you were alone. Just as you had grown used to the empty space beside you, it now feels wrong not to feel the warmth of Chan’s body pressed up against yours.

You shudder at that thought.

It wasn’t just anyone you missed in your bed. It was Chan.

In a way, it had always been him.

As you drift off to sleep, the sudden shifting of the mattress jolts you awake. Changbin is home. You inwardly curse yourself, as you won’t be able to feign sleep after being startled by his presence. He chuckles softly, slipping under the covers and pulling you close, a strong arm tightly wrapping around your waist. The dim light of your bedroom hides your grimace as he pulls your body flush against his, but you can’t help but flinch.

It feels wrong.

Just as much as Chan’s body had felt perfectly aligned with yours, Changbin’s mere presence feels out of place.

“Didn’t mean to scare you, babe,” Changbin apologizes, planting a gentle kiss on your shoulder. You mindlessly nod. “Though I’m glad you’re awake. I missed you.”

His soft kisses soon travel up the column of your throat, and you bite the inside of your cheek. Changbin effortlessly moves your body so you’re lying on your back, a soft smile playing on his lips as he leans in to kiss you.

And it feels wrong.

His tongue swipes against your lower lip, soon pushing against yours, and his taste has you clutching your fists. He slots himself between your thighs like he’s done countless times, and the weight of his body on top of you has your face twisting into a scowl. He slips a hand underneath your shirt, and the feeling of his calloused fingers across your skin has you instinctively pushing him away.

Changbin looks stunned for a beat, but his lips soon curl into a playful grin.

“Not in the mood?” He simply asks, and it makes you want to cry.

Because Changbin has always been the perfect man. He was gentle, never demanding, and always so caring to you. Even after his sudden change, his only flaw was how distant he’s become.

He is completely unaware of how you callously hurt him in the worst way possible, and the weight of that realization erases any urge you had to cry. You don’t deserve that relief.

After pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, Changbin sits up on the bed. You remain motionless, focusing on how the moonlight casts shadows on the ceiling instead of how your heart twists painfully inside your chest. You only break out of this trance once he hums beside you.

“Your mom called,” he tells you, his fingers swiping across his phone screen when you face him. “Forgot to tell you. I had to tell her we chose to postpone the wedding,” he chuckles casually, and you tightly clutch the covers.

Fuck.

“I didn’t wanna tell her yet, but…” you trail off with a shaky sigh. “I guess it’s okay.”

Changbin shrugs dismissively. “Yeah, she told me you avoided the topic when she called you. She was upset, though I don’t get it,” he scoffs. “We’re still getting married, just not now.”

Those words are enough to have your heart shatter completely.

Sadly, the happiness your selfishness brought you that week is nothing compared to the sorrow that envelops you for disappointing your mother.

Chan gave you the space he knew you needed.

Even though you gave him the happiest six days of his entire bleak existence only to leave him alone and wondering, he gave you space.

The way he forgot about everything else during those days with you was almost like a fantasy. Inside the little atmosphere you created, it was just the two of you and the love he had kept hidden for so long. He needed nothing more.

And then you left, and he gave you space.

Until the days turned into weeks, and he watched as two months slipped through his fingers like sand. Even though Changbin hadn’t visited the gym in over three months, Chan’s heart still clung to the hope that he would show up, longing for the chance to ask about you. He also hoped you’d reach out, even if it meant you’d ignore everything that happened in your little world and simply talk about the weather.

Every day, his hopes are shattered into a million little pieces.

He’d take anything over your silence. He would take you as a friend over as a familiar stranger in a heartbeat, would take his heart being broken over not having you at all. He endured that for over a decade, and he would happily ruin himself for you every single day.

And so Chan finds himself knocking at your door, his shirt clinging to his chest after a relentless afternoon of punching the sandbag in his office, futilely hoping to escape thoughts of you. He eventually walked out of the gym, heart pounding in his chest as he sprinted to your apartment as if he was scared you would disappear. Because he was.

As you slowly open the door, he finally stands before you. Your eyes widen as you take in his appearance — his ruddy cheeks, labored breath, and shaky hands that fumble to fix his disheveled hair. But Chan swears you’re the sole culprit for his heart hammering against his ribcage.

“What are you—”

“I want you to pretend it never happened,” he exasperates, “Pretend we never said anything, never did anything, just pretend. We can pretend together, I don’t care. Just don’t cut me out of your life like this.”

“Chan,” you murmur, pursing your lips before continuing. “I don’t… I don’t understand.”

“You said you didn’t wanna pretend that nothing happened between us. You said that,” he argues, trying but ultimately failing his attempt at keeping his voice down.

Chan feels as if his mind is unraveling. Every emotion he kept nestled inside his chest for years had finally spilled out the moment your lips touched his, and trying to bury this love again felt like a cruel punishment.

“Back in my apartment, I told you we should just pretend nothing happened, but you…” his voice dissipates into a sigh, the words dying at his throat, replaced by a lump that swelled in his throat.

He feels pathetic, adverting his gaze simply to blink away the tears that have gathered in his lashes. But when he turns to look at you again, your eyes are already pouring.

“I’m sorry,” you bawl, fingers gripping the doorframe until your knuckles turn white. “Chan, I’m so fucking sorry, but I can’t do this.”

Chan gnaws on his bottom lip, his eyes fixed on you as you turn and walk away, leaving him alone by your door. As he watches your figure disappear into the hallway, he realizes he cannot bear the agony of only helplessly watching you any longer.

“You said you were happy,” he yells out, following after you like a phantom you carelessly disregard. The sound of his voice echoes behind you, ignored as you enter the kitchen and resume drying plates and cutlery. Chan continues, “You started it. You chose to cross that line, chose to stay, chose to keep letting me make love to you every damn night—”

You drop a plate on the counter with a scowl, the delicate porcelain chipping at the edge. “Love?” You scoff bitterly at Chan, shaking your head. “That wasn’t love. That was a mistake.”

“That’s not what you said,” Chan retorts, and your eyes soften. He breathes out a heavy sigh. At this point, he knows he’s gone beyond desperation. He still continues, “Tell me you weren’t happy.”

“Chan…”

“Tell me,” he insists. “Tell me and I’ll gladly pretend with you.”

“I was scared!” You blurt out, “That week with you was the happiest I had been in so long, and it terrified me. But maybe that’s love, huh? Being selfish, putting myself before everyone else and acting like a fucking teenager. That’s surely love,” you scoff, words dripping with sarcasm.

A heavy silence falls between you. Chan is back in that familiar place, watching you engage in a silent battle within yourself, distant eyes almost boring holes into the chipped plate in your hands. Deep inside, he knows you’re right. It is selfish to want you to abandon everything you built for a dormant love you both buried so long ago.

But maybe being selfish is exactly what you both need. Maybe love isn’t selflessness, maybe it’s the complete opposite.

“Maybe that’s the love we deserve,” Chan breaks the deafening silence, carefully stepping closer to you. “After all these years of stupidly sacrificing our own happiness, maybe selfish love is the kind of love we need.”

But you remain silent. Your eyes wander around, almost as if you’re taking in the life that reflects the choices you’ve made. The walls of your hallway, adorned with polaroid pictures telling your story with Changbin, from just friends to the night of your engagement. Your fridge, where colorful magnets hold up little notes from Changbin, filled with sweet nothings and inside jokes. Chan notices the date on the most recent one, realizing it was over seven months ago.

As the minutes tick by, Chan braces himself for your words. He’s ready to be called insane, for you to yell and rightfully reject any notion of continuing your friendship. He knows there’s no going back to the way things were. That possibility died the moment you stepped into his apartment that fateful night.

Instead, you gaze up at him and whisper four words that leave him completely stunned.

“Run away with me.”

And Chan’s never been able to deny you.

Before you two can even make sense of anything, you’re already in your bedroom. Chan packs your bags while you kneel beside your bed, hastily jotting down words on a piece of paper. Your sudden giggle has him biting back a smile that blossoms on his face when you wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him into a deep kiss. He sighs into your lips. Your love was unearthed, dirty and tainted, but still breathing. It was sinful and borderline cataclysmic, but it was yours.

Since you were both ten years old, it has always been yours.

Your letter to Changbin hangs alongside the love notes he’d left for you over the years; selfish words nestled between sincere ones.

Inside his car, Chan’s hand intertwines with yours, and he watches your lips curl into a smile that finally reaches your eyes. It’s the first time he’s seen that expression grace your face in years.

And Chan’s emotions mirrored your own, so he made it his mission to make that happiness everlasting.

Even if it was through a selfish love.

♡ taglist: @bloom-ings, @linocz, @farahia, @mirbokk, @jisunglyricist, @jazziwritesthings, @seungseung-minmin, @yourcvndx, @hynjinnnnnnnie, @vlctorriaa, @redstayrosie, @binniesbabygirl, @pynchkilledme, @chansbabygirlsstuff, @pheonixfire777, @yongbokkiesworld, @kiensecent

[alotofpockets]

Meeting again | Part 1 | Leah Williamson x Reader

Where you take your son to Leah's book signing and you reconnect with your high school friend/crush.

Happy birthday to our blonde pookie!

Meeting again universe | Woso masterlist | Words: 2.7k

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You were doing some work around the house when your ex called. “Hey Ryan, what’s up?” You say as you turn off the vacuum. “Hi y/n, I’m so sorry. I know that it’s my day, but I’m going to be stuck at work until late. Is there any way you can pick up Liam from school and take him to that book signing from Leah?” The two of you had gotten a divorce many years ago, when you had finally come to terms with your sexuality. Ryan had always been understanding, and now you were still friends, and co-parented your son Liam together. “Oh yeah, don’t worry, I can do that.” You could hear the relief in his voice. “Thank you so much, I owe you one. He has a half day, so he should be done at school in about an hour. I packed his Arsenal jersey and scarf, he wanted to wear them to the signing. Thank you again, I have to go. Send me pictures of the signing?”  Your kid would always be your number one priority, so you hung up the phone and got ready.

“Hey bud, your dad is stuck at work, so I’m going to take you to Waterstones later, is that okay?” The boy greeted you with a hug. “Yes, of course, you’ll get to see Leah again!” Back in high school you and Leah were very close, there was even some gossip about the two of you dating, but when you got wind of that you shut those rumours down quickly by starting a relationship with Ryan, a relationship that drove a wedge between your friendship with Leah. Your love for the women’s game continued to grow though, and you have supported Arsenal all your life, just like Leah. Liam fell in love with it too, and you often found yourself amongst the crowd of Arsenal WFC and Lionesses matches together. Liam was a smart kid, and after finding you looking at TikTok videos of Leah, he started asking questions. “Watch it, or we’re not going.” You said with a fake seriousness. Liam knew full well that it was an empty threat as you loved messing with him. 

You decided to make it a special day for your son, by taking him out for lunch before heading over to Waterstones. It was to no surprise to you that he wanted to go to his favourite restaurant. “Smile for your dad.” The boy looked up from his plate with a big grin on his face. Proudly wearing his Williamson jersey and his Arsenal scarf. 

The line at Waterstones was long, but you bought the book and joined the line together. You could tell he was excited just by the way his eyes lit up, and his smile was constantly present on his face. His excitement made you glad that you were able to join him on this occasion, but it didn’t trump your nerves of seeing Leah again. Of course, you had seen her play, but you were always just a person in the crowd, and now you were going to be face to face with the girl you’ve had a crush on since you were fifteen. 

Never in your life had you been so nervous to see someone from your past, but you set it aside for your son, this was his moment. Plus Leah would probably not even remember you, right? You were a nobody, and she was the England captain and the Arsenal co-captain. 

When it was your turn, Liam walked up to the signing table, while you stood back to take pictures. “Hi, what’s your name?” You heard the blonde ask your son. “I’m Liam, it’s very nice to meet you. My mom is a big fan of yours as well.” The sneaky little bastard, you thought as your eyes met Leah’s. Her eyes showed instant recognition. ‘Yours?’ she mouthed your way, and you answered with a nod. “It’s very nice to meet you too Liam, want to come over to this side for a picture?” Leah signed the book, and wrote something on one of the cards laying to the side as Liam made his way around the table. “I see you’re repping my jersey! You know what would go great with that?” He shook his head. “This new cap, would you like one?” Liam looked over to you with hopeful eyes, “Can I mom?” You smiled at the interaction between Leah and your son, “Yeah, of course.” He turned back to Leah, “Thank you so much!” The two posed for a picture. “Any time Liam. Here is your signed book, and could you please give this card to your mom?” He grinned big when he saw a written phone number on the back of the card. “Thank you Leah!”

“Mom! I got you her number, you have to call her!” You look at the card that Liam handed you ‘Would love to catch up, send me a text if you’re up for it :)’ along with her cell. You looked between the card and Leah, who shot you a smile before returning to the next person in line. “Please tell me you’re going to send her a text, please!” Liam was tired of always seeing you admire Leah from afar, and now that you had a real shot to reconnect with her, he wanted you to take it. Plus how cool would it be if his mom would go out with the Leah Williamson? You pocket the card, “Maybe later, you little snitch. I thought we had a deal.” You say playfully as you put your arm around his shoulder. Quite frankly it scared you a little to send her a text. “Let’s head home.”

When you got home you put Leah’s number in your phone and stared at the message screen forever, trying to decide what to text her. You really wanted to reconnect with her, but you also didn’t want to overcompensate, and ruin any chance you had. You settled on something simple, letting her make the next move.

You: Hi Leah, it’s y/n. It was good seeing you today, catching up sounds nice.

You hadn’t expected to get a message back from her so soon.

Leah: So glad we ran into each other. Talk about the details later?

The message notification was staring back at you, your heart was beating out of your chest simply from her message. You quickly put your phone away, without opening her message when Liam walks in. “Mom, you know that I want you to be happy right?” You nod, “Of course, I know that kiddo. What makes you say that?” He shrugs, “I just don’t want you to hold back because of me.” You shake your head, “You’re too smart. I love you, kiddo.” He hugs your side, “I love you too, mom.” 

The two of you were hanging out at home, when Ryan called again. “Hey, thank you for sending me those pictures. They really made my day, glad to see him so happy.” You notice the exhaustion behind his words, “Yeah of course, I don’t want you to miss out on stuff because of your job.” Liam was so important to the both of you, but your divorce had led to missing some things here and there, that you always tried to minimise together. “Speaking of work, I should be done around eight. You know I hate to ask, but-” You interrupted him, “You don’t have to ask, of course. Pick him up whenever you are done, okay?” You heard the relief in his voice, “Thank you. Can I talk to him for a moment?” You walk over to Liam and hand him the phone, “It’s your dad.” After handing him your phone, you give him some space to talk to his dad. 

You continued vacuuming since you weren’t done when you had to pick up Liam from school. So, you didn’t hear the interaction with Ryan, or when the call was over, and definitely not when you got another phone call. Liam looked at the contact and smirked to himself. When he realised you didn’t hear the phone call, he picked up himself. “Hi Leah, it’s Liam.” The girl had not expected your son to pick up, but she went with it anyway. “Hey Liam! How did you like the book signing?” He told her how much he enjoyed it before Leah continued with her questions. “I was looking for your mom, is she around?” If it were a video call, Leah would have seen the mischievous look in Liam’s eyes, but since it was a voice call he could hide behind the screen. “She is a little busy right now, but she said she wanted to invite you over for dinner tonight if you had time.” Leah knew she should’ve questioned it more, but she wanted to see you so badly, that she set up dinner plans with your son. 

Just ten minutes before Leah said she would be there Liam came walking up to you. “Hey mom, so I kind of invited Leah over for dinner tonight.” Never in your life had you turned around so quickly, “You did what?” You could not believe what your son had just told you. “She will be here in-” His sentence was interrupted by the doorbell. “Now.” He said with a big smile. You were frozen in place, Leah Williamson was at your door, and you were in sweats and a tank top, your hair a mess from the house work you had been doing for the past hour. “Are you going to let her in?” You turned to Liam, “You are going to be in so much trouble later.” Again, Liam knew there was no actual threat behind your words, because that’s not how you parented.

On your way to the door, you tried to quickly fix your hair. You open the door, “Oh hi Ryan, you’re here early.” He smiles back at you, “Yeah our last meeting got cancelled, sorry I didn’t let you know.” You shake your head, “No, no it’s okay. Liam, your dad is here!” The boy came running into his dad’s arms. “You’re here!” The bond between them was amazing, he truthly loved the both of you equally. “Have you had something to eat yet?” Liam shakes his head, “How does McDonald’s sound?” You grab Liam’s bag, and give him a quick kiss on his cheek, before waving the both of them off. 

As soon as you closed the door, you ran up the stairs to quickly get changed, and look more presentable. You had just finished doing your hair when your doorbell rang again. This time it was Leah standing on the other side of the door. “Hi Leah, come in.” She looked so beautiful in her simple white t-shirt and a pair of green cargo pants. “Hey y/n, thank you. No Liam?” She questioned when you walked her further into the house. “He wanted to be here but his dad came to pick him up a little bit ago. I’m sorry to say that McDonald’s has been picked over dinner with you.” You joke, hoping to make the moment a bit lighter. Hearing Leah’s laugh brought you back to those days where you would sit on the grass, and make fun of the boys on the football team. 

“So, Liam is a big fan of football then?” Leah started awkwardly. You loved talking about him, so you just started talking. “Yeah, I started taking him to matches when he was still a little baby. He loved it ever since, I can’t go to an Arsenal match without him nowadays. A gooner from the start, just like you.” Leah blushed slightly. “So, you’ve been coming to our matches all this time?” Now it was your turn to blush. “Maybe.” The both of you laugh. “Ryan surprisingly never got into football, so it’s been something I get to share with Liam.” The name you mentioned caught Leah’s attention. “Wait Ryan is Liam’s dad? You actually married high school Ryan?” You realised that bringing his name up was probably a mistake since he is what drove the two of you apart. “Oh yeah, high school Ryan indeed. Liam’s dad indeed, and I did marry him. We haven’t been married for like five years though.” 

Leah’s ears perk up at that. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” You shrug your shoulders, “It’s all good, it was time I finally figured out my sexuality. We’re still friends, and he's great with Liam. Anyways, how have you been?” The two of you start talking and catching up, and somehow even though more than a decade had passed and you had lived such different lives, it felt like you had never not known each other. 

You walk into the kitchen together, still talking, when the both of you start getting hungry. That is when you realise that you had to go to the grocery store today, and didn’t have much in the house. “So, confession time. I didn’t actually know you were coming over until Liam told me about ten minutes before you arrived.” Leah laughed, “I had a feeling the invite wasn’t extended by you, but I didn’t want the opportunity to go to waste.” You blush at her words. “I am very happy that you are here, don’t get me wrong. I was just not prepared. It was Ryan’s day with the kid, but he got stuck at work so I didn’t have a chance to go to the grocery store like I had originally planned. Let’s see, I have Potato Smileys, and literally nothing else. I am so sorry.” Leah did not care what you would eat one bit, she was just happy to be there with you. “Good thing I love Potato Smileys then!”

You shared a laugh at the situation and decided to make the best of it. While the Potato smileys were in the oven, you set the table with some condiments to go along with them. As you were waiting for the Smileys to cook, you and Leah fell back into conversation. You were reminiscing over old times, and shared stories from the past years since. It was easy talking to her, it really felt like no time had passed.

Once you were done with dinner, you moved to the living room where you each found a comfortable place on the couch to continue catching. Before you realised it, hours had passed by. Leah looked at her watch, and noticed the time first. “Oh it’s late, I hadn’t realised so much time had passed.” You glance at the clock yourself, “Wow, yeah it is. I’m really glad you came over tonight, catching up with you has been great.” Leah smiled in return, “Yes it was, I’ve missed this. I hope we can hang out again soon!” You walk her to the door, “For sure! Liam and I will be at the match Sunday, maybe we can do something after? If you don’t mind him tagging along of course.” Her smile grew big, “I would love that, and for Liam to tag along always!”

As you said goodbye, and Leah got into her car you couldn’t help but feel hopeful for what the future might hold. Just having Leah back into your life in whatever way possible made you extremely happy. Tonight had been so nice, and you really wanted to see Leah again soon, Sunday didn’t feel soon enough. So, you decided to send her a message. You felt less nervous sending this message than the one this afternoon, but still there were some nerves.

You: Would you maybe want to grab a coffee sometime this week? I’d love to meet up sooner than Sunday.

As you were getting ready to go to bed, your phone dinged with a new message.

Leah: I know a great spot! Are you free tomorrow?

You smiled at the text, Leah proposing tomorrow had to mean she wanted to see you again soon too, right? You quickly let her know you’re free, before sending her a goodnight message and calling it a night. Though, your mind kept you up for a while longer, not wanting to let go of today just yet.

Continue reading part 2!

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[quin-ns]

Neighborhood Dilf (Joel Miller x Reader)

Word count: 2.7K

Summary: joel finds out he has a nickname and he asks you what it means

Tags: pre-outbreak this is a happy fic guys!! I didn’t specify a year but let’s put it at 2000 for funsies so sarah is like 11 and joel is like 30ish. also fluff, humor, flirting, age gap, goofy plot (I don’t know what this is honestly), joel being the definition of a dilf and not knowing it, crushes, overall cuteness. also suburbia

A/N: I saw a tiktok where someone said they just knew joel was the neighborhood dilf and they were so real for that I had to write it. and no I don’t care that the word was popularized online we’re using it here. I’m here to provide a cute fluffy fanfic not a historically accurate one lol. also sorry if your name is bee, I tried to come up with a name for the friend that was a nickname so if it was someone’s actual name they could just imagine their full name (I overthink)

TLOU masterlist + main masterlist

The loud music coming from outside woke you up from your afternoon nap. After spending a semester at college struggling to find even an hour of sleep, you were taking as many of those as possible. You were a little grouchy at first as you threw your covers off and stormed to your window, but quickly calmed down when you realized it was the annual block party your neighborhood hosted during the summer.

You’d gotten an in-person invite from Bee, another girl home from college who you’d been friends with in high school before going your separate ways. You still kept in touch since she was nice enough, which is how you found out her family was hosting this year. She’d confided in you personally that she would quote “go crazy if it was all kids and old people.”

As you looked out into their front yard, which was diagonal to yours, you saw that’s pretty much all it was. Since you were such a good friend, you decided that you’d go. 

You were getting dressed (at a leisurely pace) when your phone started to ring. You picked it up from your desk after you pulled your pink sundress on and flipped it open. The caller ID read Bee’s name and you answered, ready to tell her you were on your way.

“He’s here,” she said, sounding mistified, before you could even open your mouth. 

“Who?” you wondered, furrowing your brows a little to yourself as you went to the window.

“The neighborhood dilf,” Bee replied under her breath. 

The nickname made you laugh. It reminded you of high school. It had started as a joke, something you had started calling the new guy who’d moved into the neighborhood with his daughter a few years back. Later you found out his name was Joel Miller, but the nickname spread like wildfire to all the other girls in the neighborhood and it just stuck. 

Everyone knew about it; the girls of course, their confused parents, jealous boys who thought Joel was stealing their attention—the only person who wasn't aware of the moniker (as far as you knew) was Joel. Well, you hoped his daughter didn’t know either. Thankfully, after time, everyone forgot that you had started it. It was a bit embarrassing.

You walked away from the window to your closet and slid on your flip flops—it was summer in Texas, after all.

“You need to get over here, Y/N—what?” the last word sounded distant from the phone. “Yeah, she’s supposed to be on her way,” Bee replied, but to someone else.

“Um, hello?” you asked, waiting.

Bee was quiet for a few seconds, then whisper shouted into the phone, “you’ll never guess what just happened!”

“Let me guess, Joel just walked up and professed his love for you,” you teased, laughing at your own joke. “What, were my parents asking for me or something?” you guessed for real that time, recalling the small bit you had heard her say.

“Unfortunately no, and also no,” she sounded a little too disappointed about the first part, which made you chuckle again. “He did just ask me about you though.”

“Who?”

“The dilf.”

“Just use his name,” you told her with a roll of your eyes, heading out of your room to the stairs. “Wait.” You stopped for a second. “Joel asked about me?” 

“Yeah. I changed my mind, you’re not invited.”  If it wasn’t for her obvious sarcasm you might’ve thought she was serious. “He heard me say your name and asked if you’d be here soon. I—hey!” she yelled, causing you to pull the phone from your ear for a second. You continued your descent down the stairs as she yelled something about ‘kids’ and ‘stay out of there’. “I gotta go,” she said suddenly, then hung up.

You just shook your head with a small, amused smile and left your phone on the counter. Stupid dress and no pockets. 

You headed out the front door and walked across the street towards the party. 

It was in full swing. Music, games, food table—it looked like something out of a magazine. The Grants had a huge front yard—it was one of the nicer houses in the neighborhood—and it seemed like everyone was there. There were kids running around, adults all mingling—some sitting at the fold out tables, others walking around, others chasing their kids—there was also a group of dads surrounding the grill. You glanced that way and didn’t see Joel. You wondered where he was and if you should find him, but Bee found you first.

“The kids aren’t supposed to go inside alone and two of those little jerks went into my room,” Bee complained right away, straightening out her white blouse over her jean shorts. Her pinned back brown hair was a little messy, though. You wondered what happened, which she quickly answered. “I saw them jumping on my bed through the window.”

“Sounds like fun,” you commented sarcastically. Bee looped her arm through yours. 

“My dad set up ring toss and it’s all little kids, I don’t wanna be the only adult playing. Come on.” She dragged you along in that direction and you willingly went with.

You saw a few kids from the neighborhood playing, mostly the preteens who were too old for hopscotch but whose parents had told them they weren't old enough for the mini golf (one of the boys had overshared that little comment). 

“Y/N!” a girl's voice called. You looked that way and saw Sarah Miller walking towards you. A few days out of the week when her dad was working late, you’d go over to their house and keep an eye on her (before you left for college). It was the easiest babysitting gig you ever had; she was polite, always did her school work, and hardly caused any problems. Her dad had raised her very well. 

She looked older than you remembered her being, but you had been gone for both fall and spring semesters—well, you had been home for winter break briefly, but not enough to see anyone other than your parents.

“Sarah, hi!” you greeted, accepting the hug she offered when she got close. “How are you?”

“Good!” she said with a smile. “Are you guys gonna play with us?” she asked you and Bee. “I keep beating them and it’s not fun anymore.” 

You and Bee both laughed at that. “Sure, why not.”

“It feels weird playing with her after talking about how hot her dad is,” Bee whispered in your ear when Sarah went first. “You think he’ll come over here?”

“And what would you do if he did?” you challenged while hiding a chuckle, raising your brows at her.

“Um, probably nothing,” she admitted, cheeks a little pink. “He’s fun to look at though.” 

You hummed. “You’re not wrong.” 

The two of you played a few rounds of ring toss, although Bee got very bored quickly. “Can we go get some drinks?” she asked after not that long of playing.

“Sure,” you decided. You waved bye to Sarah and the others as the two of you walked off towards the cooler.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed some of the other girls in the neighborhood that hadn’t been in attendance before. For a couple that you knew, it didn’t seem like their scene. 

“What are they doing here?” you asked Bee.

“I may or may not have also told them the neighborhood dilf was here. They, uh, wanted to… see him,” she answered, avoiding eye contact.

You raised your brows in slight disbelief. “Are you serious?” 

“I wanted more people our age here,” Bee defended. “I wasn’t sure if you were even gonna show.”

You scoffed out a laugh. “You’re ridiculous,” you told her.

You reached the cooler and knelt down. You handed Bee a water, but she didn’t accept it. You looked up at her.

“Keep an eye out for the dilf, I haven’t seen him in a while. I’ll be right back,” Bee told you, taking off before you could say anything. You guessed the bathroom given her speed walking inside.

You laughed a little to yourself as you stood back up. You kept the water for yourself. You looked out amongst the crowd, realizing you were now on your own while everyone was in groups. You saw a couple people you were friends with and thought of maybe going up and joining them, but someone else spotted you first.

Joel Miller, the aforementioned neighborhood dilf, was walking towards you. Bee would be jealous, especially if she knew you and Joel were actually friends.

You had thought about telling Bee and some of the other girls that you were friends with Joel, given how much they just loved to gossip about him (how he was still single, how he looked really good in his pajamas getting the mail, that one time he took his shirt off while mowing the lawn—that was a big day) but then you thought better of it, not wanting to be run out of town by a jealous mob.

You were already getting glances by the time Joel stopped by your side so maybe your humbleness was pointless.

“Saw you all alone, thought I’d come keep you company,” Joel broke the ice with ease.

How long had he been watching you? The thought made your cheeks feel warm.

“Wow, what a gentleman,” you teased lightly, causing Joel to chuckle.

“I try,” he joked back, shooting you a small wink.

When you had first met Joel you were nervous around him. It was much easier to talk to him now that the two of you had become friends rather than acquaintances. He was an easy guy to get along with and you found yourself genuinely enjoying his company rather than just gawking at him in his yard from your window (like you used to do in high school). Your crush hadn’t disappeared though, so you joked around with him as a way to keep things casual and avoid getting in your own head. 

“Sarah told me you were finally here, she was happy to see you,” Joel mentioned with a light smile.

That made you smile back. “She’s a sweet kid,” you told him. “I was happy to see her too.”

You fiddled with the water bottle in your hand as you spoke, trying to unscrew the cap. The stupid thing was stuck and after a few seconds you gave up.

Joel gave you an amused look, glancing between your face and hands. “You want help with that?”

“Yes, please,” you handed it to him. “There you go again, proving chivalry isn’t dead. Thank you.”

Joel unscrewed the cap with ease and handed it back. “Happy to be at your service.”

“So, you guys been here a while?” you asked, sparking up conversation.

“Not too long, only an hour or so. It’s been fun though,” Joel explained. “More for Sarah than for me,” he admitted, glancing around to find his daughter. He spotted her and she waved, then continued playing with her friends.

“Why’s that?” you wondered, looking up at him just as he looked down at you. 

“Just… I mean, everyone is nice and all,” he started. “But I just feel like I got nothin’ to talk about with them, y’know? Except you.”

“Really?” You tried to not sound too thrown off by that, but you didn’t know he felt like that. It was interesting to say the least. 

“Is that such a surprise?” he wondered, raising an eyebrow curiously.

You shrugged. “Maybe a little. I get it though, I haven’t really talked to anyone other than Bee yet.”

“I don’t know if you’re friends with them, but I saw a bunch of girls your age walking around,” Joel said as a suggestion. 

“Nah, I’d rather just talk to you,” you said casually, before you could even think about what you had said. The look on Joel’s face changed a little, like he was trying to bite back a bigger smile.

“Well, that’s nice to hear,” he said after a moment. Your eyes met his and the way he looked at you made your heart skip a beat. You had to look away to be able to breathe, almost certain you were reading into things. You really, really did not want to be disappointed.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Joel said, making you realize you hadn’t spoken yet.

“Sure, yeah.”

“You know… young person lingo, don't you?”

You laughed at the awkward wording. If it had been any of the other adults here using the word “lingo” you would’ve cringed, but there was something cute about the way Joel said it. You tried to snap that thought out of your head.

“Mostly, yeah,” you replied with a little chuckle paired with a curious tone. “What’s up?”

“Do you know what a dilf is?” he asked bluntly. That alone told you he had no idea. 

You were so stunned, all you could think to say was, “why?”

“Well, those girls I mentioned… I overhead some of them calling me that,” he explained, his eyebrows furrowing a little. “It’s not bad, is it?” 

Was this karma coming back to you for starting the nickname? It wouldn’t have surprised you. 

“It’s not bad, no,” you assured while also avoiding the main question.

“What is it then?” Joel’s interest was piqued now and while you couldn’t blame him, you also couldn’t think of a way to make this not weird.

“It’s an acronym,” you started. Joel watched you intently, waiting for an explanation. “It means dad I’d like to…” you trailed off, hinting at him the word to fill in the blank.

Joel just looked even more confused. “To what?”

Somehow he made cluelessness incredibly attractive.

Screw it, you thought. This was already weird. Rip the bandaid off, right? “Fuck,” you finished before you could think better of it. 

“Oh,” he stated. You knew it took a second for realization to hit. “Oh. So that means they, um,”

“It’s basically like saying you’re hot,” you explained, filling in when he couldn’t. You hoped he wouldn’t find it insulting or anything like that.

Joel looked a little bashful but found amusement in the situation nonetheless. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” you suggested, then sipped your water. You looked out at the people milling about rather than meeting his gaze.

“Do you think I’m one?”

You nearly choked on your water. “What?”

“Sorry,” Joel apologized quickly, trying to laugh it off. “I shouldn't've asked that.”

“It’s alright,” you assured him. You paused for a minute, contemplating what you might say to that. You got a rush of bravery. “If you’re asking if I think you’re attractive… the answer is yes.”

Joel couldn’t hold back his smile. He tried, but it was a failed effort. It was like he was trying to contain his anticipation. “What about if I wanted to ask you out? What would your answer be then?”

“Yes.”

Joel grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he admitted. 

“Dad!” Sarah’s voice caused the two of you to look away from one another. You saw her running up to you guys and hoped she hadn’t heard a word of your conversation. “Can you come play with me? Mr. Grant just set up a bean bag toss!” 

“Sure, kiddo,” he told her. She grabbed his hand and started to drag him away. 

You smiled a little to yourself at the interaction—he was such a good dad.

Joel slowed her down a little bit to look back at you. “I’ll call you later, okay?” 

“Sounds good,” you replied, chuckling lightly. 

The Millers disappeared into the roaming people. You tried to follow them with your gaze but your attention got torn away.

“Waiting in a line for the bathroom in my own house is messed up,” Bee said, popping out seemingly out of nowhere. “What’s got you so happy?” she wondered, eyeing the smile on your face that couldn’t be erased.

“You won’t believe what just happened,” you replied. A part of you still couldn’t believe it. “I’ve got a date with the neighborhood dilf.”

joel taglist: @the-ice-frozen-ground-red-rose @dontphunkwithmylove @cilliansangel @amethystwonders11 @frogsmuahh037 @andy-rocks @melllinaa @alitaar @melanie451 @b00kw0rmsworld @reverieisaway @avengersfan25 @aheadfullofsteverogers @strangeh0rizons @spideysimpossiblegirl @shannonmariebee

if you would like to be added to the joel taglist just send me an ask or a message! <3

[disillusioneddanny]

Enjoy some Damian/Danny drabble :3

I'm not sure if this is ever going to go anywhere but enjoy <3

Danny smiled and held his letter close to his chest, the words of his precious Moon Beam washing over him once again. He hadn’t seen Damian since his family had left the League of Assassins ten years prior, but he looked forward to the letters from his fiance each month they came. 

Growing up in Nanda Parbat, the two had been inseparable, had been absolute best friends, They trained together, ate together, took their punishments together. Damian had been the best part of Danny’s life for seven long years. And when their parents had announced that they would be wed one day had been one of the greatest days of Danny’s life. He had always had a bit of a puppy crush on Damian, and knew that the boy thought the same of him. From there they had grown even close, up until it was time for Danny and his family to embark on their mission. 

The Fentons were being sent to Amity Park to study Lazarus Water in solitary so that the League could better understand the waters and what they were and how to better manipulate it. Slowly his parents had become obsessed with pit demons and wanted to learn how to control them, how to make them work for the League as mindless slaves. The two had dedicated all of their time to it while Danny and Jazz worked to become normal kids and fit in with the new society that they were living within. 

The letters from Damian each month had become a lifeline to his love. The two wrote back and forth for years, growing closer and closer, falling more and more in love with one another. And now they were getting closer to the day they were set to wed. Damian knew everything about Danny, was even one of the few people who knew of Danny’s secret as a halfa. Which, Damian had plans, plans he would never divulge not even in letters on how to get Danny safely away from his parents and from the League of Assassins. 

Because despite the fact that they were stationed in the middle of Amity Park, Illinois, they were still very much still members. Whereas Damian had left the league and rejected his status as heir to the Demon’s Head. He had maintained that the two were still set to be married, refusing to allow anyone else to take Danny’s hand in marriage. Of course, Danny’s parents were still more than happy to allow that to happen, Damian was still a Wayne after all and that meant that he had influence. 

Danny didn’t care about any of that, though. He didn’t care that Dami was a Wayne, he didn’t care that he had a plan to get Danny away from the League of Assassins. What he cared was that Damian loved him and in just a few weeks when Danny turned eighteen they were finally going to get married and he would be far, far away from Amity Park and the League of Assassins. 

No more experiments, no more ghosts, no more hunting and running away from his parents who were determined to catch Phantom and turn him into a mindless slave for the League. It would just be him and Damian, living their lives the way they deserved.

idk if anything would ever come out of this but if you're interested in more, lmk, maybe i can add it to my mile long wip list :3

[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

[sabsturned]

M. Sturniolo - Three Doors Down

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comment on this post to be added to my taglist :-)

pairing: matt x fem!reader

contains: angst, mentions of a drinking and smoking parent, crying

summary: you and matt used to be best friends. you were closer to him than anyone else you know, and you’ve always secretly had a crush on him. the day you told him, you guys stopped talking. tonight was prom night, and you had no guys or even friends to go with. all you could do was sit in the corner and watch him dance with his girlfriend, sofia.

a/n: first fic!!! i’m rlly excited about this one. it’s based off of the song ‘three doors down’ by joy. this was my shit in 2022 and i don’t get why it wasn’t talked about more. ALSO I HAVE A QUESTION: what are anons??? also please leave requests for fics!! i’m literally out of ideas. THATS IT!! enjoy the fic :))

key: matt y/n sofia

and i’m in the corner

dying of boredom

catching light from the shine

of his girlfriend’s tiara

me and matt were best friends. me and the boy three doors down. i mean, the best word to describe us was inseparable. we hung out all the time—at school, at home, over the weekends, at parties—everywhere i went, he went, and everywhere he went, i went.

it started when we were both eight years old. i was trying to avoid my mom at all costs because when she drank, she got mean. i went outside, picking all the small white flowers out of the ground. maybe if i gave my mom flowers, she would cheer up, and she wouldn’t hurt me. at least that’s what i thought.

i picked a yellow dandelion, adding it to my bouquet of flowers when i saw a boy around my age riding on a skateboard. he was riding it on circles in his driveway. suddenly the only thing my eyes were looking at was his curly brunette hair. his eyes were a beautiful color of blue. not as deep as an ocean, but not as light as the sky. all i knew was that they were perfect and they consumed me. his cheeks were a shade of red, probably because of the humidity. i’ll never forget the way he looked at me for the first time; the way his eyes lit up, the way his smile widened, showing off the dimple on his left cheek, the way the world around us faded.

his hand slowly moved up, waving at me. my smile grew. i waved back.

whenever my mom started drinking, i just went outside, where he was every afternoon on his skateboard. he tried teaching me to ride it, but i wasn’t very good. we played in his backyard with his brothers and their dog, trevor. sometimes they brought out their sprinkler on a really hot day, and we all just played like kids. i would give anything to be a kid with them again.

when we were in the same homeroom for third grade, we were both ecstatic. we were always partners in group work, always played together at recess, always ate together at lunch. everybody always made fun of us, and assumed we were dating or something. but we didn’t care.

everything was perfect. up until eighth grade. ever since me and matt met, i’ve always kind of liked him. i never really had the courage to tell him, up until the day before our eighth grade dance.

i confessed my feelings for him. i didn’t say much really. i just told him i liked him and asked if he wanted to go on a date. but i don’t think he felt the same.

he said he was busy.

all contact was cut after that. no more late night calls, no more weekend sleepovers, no more study sessions after school.

and it’s all my fault. i ruined everything. if i wouldn’t have said all of that, we wouldn’t have been here. we would have still been friends. we would have gone to prom together. we would have been falling asleep on call together. we would have still been as inseparable as we were when we were kids.

all of this was my fault.

now i’m at prom. the speakers blasted a pop song i don’t know the name of. all of the kids in the room were dancing, jumping around, making out in the bathroom, but i was sitting in the corner.

i would have gone home, but i was trying to avoid being near my mom at all costs. so i was just there, dying of boredom.

i caught a glimpse of her tiara. the plastic gems glistened in the dim light of the room. how was sofia able to wear cheap plastic on her head and still manage to look absolutely beautiful.

i’m so jealous of sofia. she’s a cheerleader. she’s skinny, she’s pretty, she won prom queen, and worst of all, she was matt’s girlfriend. we have had some interactions before, and i hate talking about her negatively because she is so incredibly sweet. like i’ve never met a popular girl so nice. it made it harder to hate her the way i wanted to.

her silky straight hair ran down her back, and her wide smile could light up a whole room. her dress was fabulous too. it was a really pretty shade of lavender, and it was sparkly. it complimented her figure so well. i mean, she looked like an absolute goddess.

her hands were wrapped around matt’s neck as they danced to the slow music playing. it hurt so bad. i should be over matt by now, i mean, it’s been four years. but i wasn’t over him. i wasn’t over his curly brunette hair, his beautiful blue eyes, the dimple that appeared on his left cheek whenever he would smile. i wasn’t over our late night phone calls, our weekend sleepovers, our study sessions after school. i wasn’t over him. and i never would be.

watching them dance together made me sick. the eye contact, how touchy they were. i decided to go get some punch to distract myself. i wanted to go home so bad, but a broken heart was less noticeable than the burn mark of a cigarette.

the loud music drowned out the sound of the punch splashing into the red cup. i turned around to go back to the corner i was sitting in, when a tall figure bumped into me. thankfully, i didn’t spill any punch on my dress.

“oh, sorry. i should have been watching where i was-“ my breathing stopped when i realized who i had just bumped into. his curly brunette hair, his beautiful blue eyes. matt.

“that’s alright-“ he stopped talking when he saw me. “oh, um, hey.” he said, one hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“hi.” i responded.

“you look.. amazing.” he complimented.

“oh, thanks. you too.”

“are you having fun?” no. not when she’s the one you’re dancing with. not when i’m still thinking about you even after all these years.

“yeah, just hanging out with my friends. a night to remember.” i lied.

“yeah.” he laughed.

there was a moment of silence where we just looked at each other. the first time i’ve looked in his beautiful blue eyes in years. the first time we’ve had an interaction in years.

“hey baby, they’re playing my favorite, c’mon!” sofia ran over, grabbing chris by the arm, giving me a small wave before dragging him back to the dance floor.

“nice seeing you y/n.” he voiced, before him and sofia continued dancing together.

i tried to say something back, but nothing came out. i forgot how to speak, i forgot how to breathe. before i knew it, the tears were already falling out of my eyes.

i needed to leave. thankfully, i only live a few blocks from the school, so i could just walk home. the only thing i could think about was how i just needed to be anywhere else but this school.

i shoved open the doors, walking out into the cold rain. it was pouring outside. normally, i really liked rain. me and matt used to lay in the rain together. it’s where we had our most meaningful conversations, and shared our deepest thoughts. but i wasn’t enjoying it right now. every drop felt like cupid pulling an arrow out of me. i rushed home as quick as i possibly could, the rain soaking my hair, and the tears rushing down my face. i actually couldn’t even tell if i was crying anymore. the rain made it hard to tell.

i was able to sneak past my mom so she wouldn’t see i went out. i ran up the stairs and into my room, quietly shutting the door behind me. i let out loud sobs into my hands, my rain soaked body dripping rain into a puddle beneath me. i looked up and saw the picture we made in fourth grade art class together, my sobs growing louder. i looked next to it. a signed baseball from a game we went to together sat on the shelf, along with a scrapbook of our seventh grade summer. suddenly, my room was filled with memories of us. i need to destroy it all.

i took the canvas off of the wall, grabbing my scissors and stabbing it until you couldn’t see the picture anymore. i took the scrapbook off of the shelf, ripping out the pages, cutting them into small pieces. i grabbed the baseball, opened my window, and threw it. i didn’t see where it landed. i was just glad it was out of my sight. i ripped the cards and gifts he made me for my birthdays, and christmas, and valentine’s day, ripping and cutting them up. then the stuffed bear he got me. my favorite animal. i cut that open, ripping out the stuffing. until nothing else was left. i sighed, my sobs growing louder.

i looked down and noticed my heels, stained with punch. the rain should have washed it off. the punch reminded me of him. i must have missed when it fell out of my cup and onto my shoes. i kicked them off, throwing them under my bed.

i looked down at my dress, noticing the color of it. it was the same shade of blue as his eyes. his beautiful blue eyes. i groaned out loud, ripping my dress off and throwing it in my closet. everything reminded me of him. the clothes i wore when we hung out, the sheets we laid in, the desk he sat at while we talked for hours, the rug we sat on when we played board games, the floor, the walls, the ceiling, the window, everything. it was like he was a memory that i couldn’t get rid of.

but maybe this is how it’s supposed to be. maybe we aren’t meant to have late night phone calls. maybe we aren’t meant to have weekend sleepovers. maybe we aren’t meant to have study sessions after school. maybe we just aren’t meant to be. maybe he belongs with sofia. maybe we aren’t supposed to be together, me and the boy three doors down.

angst is one of my favorite things to write. it’s so therapeutic to me. so i hope you enjoyed this and please give me your feedback in the comments! :D

- thanks for reading!! with love, sabrina 🤍🎀

taglist:: @muchloveforhacker @saartjuhh @anonymousmfs @mylove4lana @chrissfavhoe @sturniolo101 @h3arts4harry @hereforthwtripletsfr @pepsixchris @ch3rrywine-reposts @amaliarosewood @gwennybenny @memea32221 @urfavstromboli

[illiterateaffairs]

breaking point | stiles x reader

masterlist

pairing: stiles stilinski x f!reader (best friend/witch)

word count: 2,589

warnings: brief mention of having a period but one sentence! cursing, angst, kissing (oh my!)

summary: set at the end of 3b. you pride yourself on being the strong one in the pack so your friends don't have to be. but after recent events - watching stiles get possessed, losing allison and aiden - you can't push your feelings away any longer. thankfully, there's a sweet boy outside your window ready to be there for you this time.

author's note: i have so much i can say about the world in which this story lives but don't want to drone on and on...so another note at the end and more to come. hope you enjoy! <3 (and for anyone following me for jamie tartt x reader content...do not give up on me yet!)

You couldn’t remember the last time you cried. 

You think it had to have been when you were a kid. Maybe a scraped knee. Maybe after you had rewatched Bambi for the thousandth time.

What you do remember is the core reason you stopped letting yourself cry. 

Seeing Scott after his parents divorced taught you there were worse things in life than cuts and scrapes. You’ll never forget the look on his face the day his dad moved out. You and Stiles tried every trick in the book to make him smile but it took days for you to see his crooked grin again. 

Though, that was nothing compared to when Stiles lost his mom.

You had never experienced grief like that, that wasn’t a cartoon animal in a movie. It was anyone’s guess why your families let Scott and you attend the funeral, but the three of you were already codependent by eight years old. You were overwhelmed by the sight of seeing your silly, sweet best friend cry so hard, and it was harder to watch his dad fight through his own tears. Even Scott got choked up. But not you. 

Of course, you were just as devastated. Claudia was like a mother to you. But observing the equally upset people trying to comfort young Stiles made you want to be the one person in the room who could just be there for him and let him mourn. Even as a little girl, you had the selfless instinct to put your feelings aside and prioritize your friend’s.

You stay strong so they don’t have to; that became your mantra, even subconsciously. 

No matter what shit you were going through, you swallowed your own fears, pain, and anger so you could be there for whoever needed you. And that decision soon became a part of your programming. Even if no one was around, you never let yourself break, no matter the situation. 

You stopped crying during movies, no matter how depressing. 

The first time you experienced period cramps so bad you had to stay home from school, you just bit your tongue and didn’t shed a tear. 

As you transitioned to middle school school, and into high school, and your feelings for Stiles went from innocent crush to more, you pushed any heartbreak down when he looked right past you at Lydia Martin. 

Admittedly things have gotten harder the last year. Being there when Scott was bitten by a werewolf was startling but you swallowed your fear for him and focused on his well-being. You even held it together when you started learning of your own supernatural abilities and family secrets that changed everything you thought you knew about yourself. In moments of danger and near-death, you focused on making sure Stiles was okay. Making sure Allison was okay. Lydia, Derek, Isaac, even Jackson at times. You were physically incapable of taking a minute to assess how you felt about things, your mind just redirecting to concern for your friends and loved ones. 

There were some close calls. Mainly when it came to Stiles.

The night he played his first lacrosse game with you cheering in the stands ended with Gerard kidnapping and scarring him. The second you saw his face afterwards, you nearly let the damn break. 

It was no surprise that the last few months were particularly challenging. You could hardly stomach watching Stiles, Scott, and Allison nearly sacrifice themselves to save their parents, your hands plunging Stiles into the ice cold water. It was nearly impossible to watch him become the shell of who he was in the weeks following until he wasn’t himself altogether. 

And then Allison…

You felt the loss of Erica and Boyd heavily but you knew Isaac and Derek were taking it harder, so you were there for them. However with Allison…she was one of your best friends and that made it infinitely more difficult to bear. But she was Lydia’s best friend. Scott’s first love. They needed you more than you needed to cope on your own. 

And then, tonight. Just as you finally put an end to the horror that was the Nogitsune, your pack was hit with another loss: Aiden. Lydia’s relationship with him was complicated, but that didn’t make her any less devastated as she ran out of the school and took in the scene. Holding your friend while she sobbed over the death of two of the most important people in her life is traumatizing, but reaffirming nonetheless; you had no right to cry when someone else was going through worse. 

It was an unhealthy and ridiculous thought, but it was what your brain had been conditioned. 

So here you were, slowly entering your room at an ungodly hour after making sure Lydia would be okay on her own. If it were up to you, you would have stayed with her, but she remained firm that she needed to be alone. And you trusted she meant that. You drop down onto the edge of your bed, heavily, the weight of the last few days - weeks, months, year - making you collapse. Normally, you could push any swirling thoughts away and mindlessly get ready for bed, but as you struggle to pull off your boots, your mind is racing. Scenes of Allison dying, Lydia’s scream, Scott’s face, Stiles collapsing, play in your head. Your lip is quivering. Your hands shake as you drag the shoe’s zipper down your leg. And then suddenly, the unfamiliar feeling of a hot tear streams down your face. You wipe at them hastily, trying to snap yourself out of it but they keep coming. 

You’re on the verge of hyperventilating when you sense someone outside your bedroom window, hearing something bump against it a second later. Without another thought, you’re up and pulling the curtain open, your hand nearly raised to cast one hell of a spell on whoever could be lurking outside at this time after the night you experienced. But your stomach drops when you see Stiles perched on the other side of the glass. Even quicker now, you pull open the window and yank him inside anxiously. 

“Woah, you’re quick. I didn’t even get a chance to knock,” Stiles mutters softly.

“Stiles!” you gasp out as quietly as I can, “What the hell are you doing? You should be in your home, asleep, resting, safe! And you’re risking your life for the second time tonight climbing up here!”

As you scold him, your hands grip onto his flannel, searching him up and down for any sign of distress. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Stiles whispers, his hands reaching out to gently rub your shoulders, “I’m okay, I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not,” you shake your head, “You should be home. You should be with your dad, the last few weeks have been killing him.”

“I texted him,” Stiles bypasses quicker than he should, “I just wanted to see you.”

You look up at him for the first time since he’s been in the room, your eyebrows pinching, “You what?”

“Yeah, I…” Stiles pauses as he observes your face. He gently lifts his right hand to cup your face gently, his thumb wiping a tear, “You’re crying.”

Shit. You’d forgotten about that. 

You swallow thickly, making half a move to pull away from him, but he’s instinctive and doesn’t let you get far. You start shaking your head, averting your gaze again and aggressively wiping at your own face in another attempt to hide. 

“No, I’m okay. I’m fine.” you insist.

“It’s okay if you’re not,” Stiles argues. 

“No it's not,” you shake your head more, “God you shouldn’t be comforting me, you almost died tonight.” 

“But you’re allowed to be upset. A lot has been happening.” 

“But Lydia and Scott…”

“No, Allison was your friend, too. It's been a rough few days...”

“No, Stiles, stop, it's not that!” your voice cracks as you quietly exclaim, looking at him firmly now, “The last few days have been…awful. I am so sad about Aiden, and I am devastated about Allison, but I can’t stop thinking about how Scott and Lydia must feel.”

Stiles sighs, “You cared about them too.”

“I know that, but Lydia lost her boyfriend and her best friend within days. Scott lost, like, the love of his life. And that’s what makes my stomach hurt. My mind keeps going to how much it must be hurting them, and I can’t even comprehend it- I can’t even go there because it seems excruciating. And then I feel guilty for even thinking about that, when that’s not what happened to me. They lost their person, and you’re still…” 

Your voice trails off when you realize the implication of what you’re saying.

He’s your person and he’s still here. 

You feel your eyes widen as you process what you just admitted to your best friend. You take in his own surprised expression as he realizes it, too. His hands are still on either side of your face as you look down and sputter, trying to form another coherent sentence. 

“I just meant…so many bad things have happened the last few days, but the one thing I can't stop thinking about is how I almost lost you tonight…” you whisper. You force yourself to look at him again and his lips part, still in a state of…shock? Awe? 

When he doesn’t say anything after a few seconds, you hurry to fill the silence. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be saying or thinking any of this.”

You make another attempt to pull away from him, but he pulls you closer. 

“No, no,” he whispers.

“You don’t have to say anything to make me feel better, in fact that’s the last thing you should be doing,” you continue rambling.

“Hey, stop it. You don’t ever have to apologize, especially not to me. Just because someone may have gone through worse, doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to react or mourn or feel. You’re always so strong for us but it's okay not to be sometimes. And…” Stiles takes a deep breath, “You’re not the only one thinking about what-ifs tonight.” 

You look at him curiously as he continues. 

“What if I had been stronger? None of this would have happened - that thing couldn’t possess me. What if I had been smarter and figured out how to stop the Nogitsune sooner? What if I had really hurt you when he was in control? What if he targeted you the other night or tonight? What if we lost you instead. Despite everything that happened with everyone there, I can't stop thinking about you, you, you. What if I had lost you?” 

You feel your eyes beginning to well up again, at your body’s mercy with no way of stopping it. You could hardly process Stiles' words, in disbelief of the weight they carried. 

“Stiles…” you whisper, but are unable to complete the thought. 

“That’s why I’m here. I couldn’t stomach being away from you right now.” Stiles pauses, before taking a deep breath and continuing, “I'm sorry for not saying it sooner, and sorry for every second you have spent thinking I don’t feel the way you do. You are the most important person in my life, and all I care about half the time. I am…crazy about you. Maybe that’s a poor word choice after my mental state the last few weeks, but it’s true. And if I’ve learned anything from all of this, it's that life's too short. And I don’t want to spend another moment of my life not being with you.”

You stare at Stiles, forced to blink away stray tears. Your heart is racing and you’re still unable to form words, with a million different thoughts swirling in your head.

Not encouraged by your silence, Stiles starts to grow anxious, slowly stepping back and removing his hands from your face as he speaks again, “Was that…way too much, way too fast?…I can go.”

You hardly let him move an inch before you’re stepping back into his space and holding his arms firmly in place. 

“You mean it?” You ask emotionally, “It’s not just the near death experience talking? You really mean it?”

Stiles nods excessively leaning closer, “Every word. You’re my person, too.”

Your lips twist, as if trying to smile but your emotions are all over the place and it just leads to you choking out a sob. In seconds, Stiles' hands move from your face to wrap tightly around your waist as you sink into his embrace.

“I don’t know what I would have done if you didn’t wake up tonight.” You cry into his shoulder as he rocks you back and forth. 

“I’m here. I’m okay,” Stiles whispers soothingly, “Mostly because of you.” 

You try to steady your breath as you reply, “Scott and Kira did most of the work.”

Stiles rubs your back, “Not just the ritual tonight. The thought of getting back to you is what held together the last pieces of sanity I had left.” 

You slowly pull back so you can look up at him again, “Really?”

Stiles nods, reaching up to gently wipe your face, “Yeah…I don’t think I could have survived any of it without of you.”

You take a deep breath, briefly thinking about how much torture the last few weeks have been for him, but push the thoughts away when it becomes too much to stomach. You tenderly place your hands on his face. “I’m sorry we couldn't bring you back sooner.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t think about that. I’m here now, yeah?”

You nod, your eyes flicking around his face, taking in every detail you can see in your dimly lit room. “Yeah…”

Stiles gently brushes a piece of your hair back, whispering, “Right where I want to be.” 

As if by a gravitational pull, your face inches closer to him, your noses brushing first, before your lips finally meet in a soft, timid kiss. Your first real kiss. It only takes seconds for the two of you to become more comfortable, any trepidations fading away as you practically melt into each other. You sigh as his hands move down the curves of your body, your own hands gripping his hair. You would have never, ever pulled away if you didn’t need to breathe. Stupid lungs. 

You stay in contact, pressing your foreheads together. 

Breathing heavily, Stiles asks, “Can I…stay here tonight?”

You nearly laugh, “If you even had half a thought that I was going to let you leave after this, you’re out of your mind.” Not even a second goes by before you realize what you had said, your eyes going wide but then you see half an amused smile on his lips.

Stiles shakes his head, shushing you as he pulls you back in for another kiss. 

After a few more moments of kissing, and after you finally change and curl up in bed with him, your thoughts turn back to the recent events and you find yourself crying again. But unapologetically, comforted by Stiles' embrace and the fact that he was feeling the same things as you. And that it was okay to feel them. You both mourn Allison and all the friends you've lost. And eventually, you fall asleep in each other’s arms. The last few weeks had fully broken you. But it was okay, because you had someone to help pick up your pieces whenever you needed. And you’d be there to do the same for him. 

---

author's note: lmao i never know how to end things. but there it is! my first stiles fic in years. some may have read some of my old work from a years ago, but writing for stiles was my one of my first forays into fanfic over a decade ago. i always fall back on my stiles hyperfixation and with the return of fall, its back in full force.

i envision this work as part of the oc/reader character i've developed (mostly in my head) over the years, where she grew up as stiles and scott's best friend, pining over stiles and eventually finds out she is a witch. however, i never fully committed to a teen wolf rewrite, so i've written a few tidbits a while ago. i have an overall narrative i think she follows, but i also love the idea of playing with different ways stiles and the reader can get together, and this was the idea i've had most recently thinking about season 3b. i imagine the reader had already admitted to her feelings, but the timing wasn't right so she's finally giving into them and stiles finally reveals he reciprocates them. i could go on and on about the details for this "world" and the many alternate routes it can take.

let me know if anyone has any interest is seeing more of witch/bestie!reader x stiles in all of its shapes and forms, and feel free to inbox me any questions/thoughts/anything. also let me know what you thought of this! it finally got me writing again after a year, so i'm a little rusty, but eager to get back into it again <333

and again, i haven't forgotten my jamie series...i am trying to get over a hump of writers block for the next chapter but after that i'm locking in. :)