#i don't want to be away from my friends and family

[amazinglyashy]

Hi! I was wondering if I could request a prompt where the reader is out at night with the LIs, wearing a pretty outfit, a man just approaches her and rudely asks “how much for a bj?” How would they react/protect her from such a creep?

(Sorry, for my English, I hope it made sense haha🤞🏼)

Very Minor N/SFW Warning!! This one really made me laugh because this has happened to me before, and the situation mostly pans out with my own partner having to yank me away to avoid having to post bail on me later in the evening. Remember to leash your dogs kids! Thank you for the request!! <3

LaDS men when you get catcalled/propositioned on the street

Xavier -

He's apologizing profusely to you because the ensuing bloodspray from how hard he punched the guy in the nose got on your dress and he genuinely feels awful about it.

There is not much to it, besides he acted embarrassingly quickly, to the point you wonder to yourself if he's just been silently waiting for this moment to come.

He's used to going out with you for drinks or evening dates- it's one of the more common ways for the two of you to hang out aside from spending the evening in one of your apartments with the other. Juggling work and clocking out with social activities would also mean walking late at night, to go to a movie or even on a snack run.

So needless to say, he has in fact, been mentally preparing himself for something like this to happen.

He can't help it.

He doesn't ever want to see you disrespected- he doesn't care the context. Work, family, friends-

And now, what, a stranger asking you for sexual favors?

You wait calmly with him while he speaks to the officers about what happened, trying to contain your giggles at how sheepishly he looks at the ground, his face still painted with the most adorable anger.

Zayne -

Quickly, he's pushed you behind himself and holding eye contact with the guy. It doesn't matter if he's drunk, or perfectly sober, Zayne won't excuse someone saying such a ridiculous thing to you.

He has his usual air of politeness and manners, but the bite in his voice is more than apparent, even to someone who doesn't know him. Dressed as nicely as he is with the air he carries around him, it's a weird experience for those who don't know how protective Zayne can get.

He will tell the man to give you an apology and back off, or there will be consequences.

You know what those consequences are, and despite feeling smug about how protective Zayne is, you're trying to grab his arm and stop him, to no avail.

If the creep tries to reach for you, Zayne will back up into you to force you back gently, and the man will quickly realize that he can't reach forward anymore-

Even as Zayne walks away with you, the ice is still creeping up the man's body. Slow enough, but still moving.

Hopefully an OTTO calls for help in time. Hypothermia at night would suck.

Rafayel -

He's immediately between you and the guy, hand long since dropped your own as he crosses his arms and stares the guy down.

If you hadn't known him so long, you would expect him to fire off a tirade of insults and comments at the guy- but you know Rafayel. You know him well.

He tells the guy to back off, in the most simple of terms as he glare is enough to set the man alight- and Rafayel's evol does just that when the guy doesn't seem to back down- lighting up the shoulders of his clothing and causing him to flay around screaming, as Rafayel pulls you to keep walking.

The amount of tasteful compliments on your attire rise, and you know he's doing it to keep you from internalizing the earlier interaction and stop dressing how you want.

He doesn't need some random freak to keep you from expressing yourself how you want to. Of course, he'll always find you attractive, and the little outfit you're wearing is doing numbers to him, but that's not his focus here at all.

He wants you to feel comfortable, confident-

And he'll do everything in his power to make sure you always do.

Sylus -

I am not entirely sure the man who's asking you has finished his sentence before he's slammed once against a nearby building and then released.

Sylus makes no motion to indicate that it was his doing, continuing to walk along with you to wherever the two of you had been going in the first place-

But you knew.

You had seen his stupid red mist envelope him.

For a second, you'd been scared that he was going to kill the guy- and while you knew someone who was comfortable saying such a thing to someone needed to be put in their place, 'murder' was not at all the same as 'putting someone in their place'.

No, he was just slightly- sort of- broken.

Just a bit.

Sylus won't react much, he may give a passing comment about the man, but otherwise, he's back to complimenting you or conversing with you about whatever subject you two had been discussing prior to the creep showing up.

"Sorry, sweetie. I know you don't like bugs. I tried to handle it as... efficiently, as possible."

[magniloquent-raven]

"Oh, good, you are alive." Eddie says as soon as Tommy opens his front door. He pushes his way into the house without waiting for a response, and leaves Tommy blinking at empty space.

"...Sure, come on in," he mutters.

"Would it kill you to answer your phone some time?" Eddie's standing in the living room, hands on his hips, looking at Tommy like he's expecting something.

And Tommy's still lingering in his own doorway, suddenly very aware of how ripe his PJs have gotten. "It's my day off." It's a lame excuse and he knows it. He turns away to shut the door so he won't have to look Eddie in the eye.

"It's been, like, three weeks, man."

Tommy sighs quietly. "Yeah, look, it's just..."

"Is this the part where you tell me you both love me equally and it isn't my fault mommy and daddy are getting divorced." He's being flippant, but there's anger there. Tension in his voice. Tommy's not sure if it's on his own behalf or Evan's. Either would be fair, probably.

No. No, it isn't. It's not fair. He doesn't get to storm in here and judge Tommy's life choices. It's not like he's happy with himself about this, he didn't want to break things off. It just. Didn't work out.

"We don't, Eddie."

"What?"

Tommy folds his arms across his chest. "Love you equally. He needs you more than I do."

"What happened to me being allowed to have more than one friend?"

You know what happened, Tommy wants to snap, wants to be the kind of person who gets so angry he breaks, bleeds the tension out. He wants to untangle the knot that's been tightening in his chest for weeks.

Instead he hunches his shoulders. "Nothing, you have plenty of friends. A whole station of them." Tommy bites the inside of his lip so hard he tastes iron, and his eyes fall shut for a moment while he collects himself. "I was trying to make things easier for you."

Eddie narrows his eyes. "Yeah, nothing easier than getting ghosted. In fact, I love it when people I care about suddenly stop talking to me."

"You know what I meant. You have to take his side."

"Oh, I am. Breaking up with him like that was stupid, and he's really hurt."

Tommy barely contains his wince.

"But you were my friend before you were his boyfriend." Eddie's expression shifts, not quite softening. "I'm not here to defend Buck's honour, I'm here because my friend isn't making good choices and I'm worried about him."

He cried that night three weeks ago. Held off until he'd made it home and then bawled like a child, curled up in the dark and not bothering to wipe the snot from his nose. He hasn't cried since. Not when he found one of Evan's sweaters shoved between the cushions on his couch. Not when a date night reminder he forgot to delete from his phone dinged three days ago. Every time he wakes up to nothing but empty lock-screen he feels a little more hollow thinking about all the texts he used to get in the middle of the night.

But he hasn't been crying about it. Until now.

He's not sure what it is exactly. Something about Eddie refusing to let Tommy stonewall him. Something about all the things he's gone through alone never mattering to anyone. Not enough to warrant more than courtesy comfort.

"Woah, hey, was it something I said?"

Tommy shakes his head, and wipes his cheek with the heel of his hand. "It's been a weird few weeks."

It has, is the thing. He used to be good at being alone. But six months of borrowed time was enough for him to be in a lot deeper than he thought. He doesn't just miss Evan he misses being invited to his family dinners, and hearing about life with the 118.

"How 'bout I drink your beer while you tell me about it."

"...Okay."

[libraryspectre]

After the 2016 election, I was alone on a college campus in Texas. The only queer person I knew in real life was my girlfriend, and she lived across the country. I had very few friends on campus and my entire family had voted for trump.

The next morning I got up and went to the student queer center for the first time. Before, I had been too afraid of been seen as a queer person to be in queer spaces. It took an existential threat to get there, but I'm forever grateful that threat drove me toward community rather than scaring me away from it. It was such a relief to be around other queer people that I ended up joining two queer student groups. I wasn't outgoing or comfortable enough with myself yet to make the most of those connections, but they were truly one of the major factors that kept me from collapsing in on myself.

I wanted to say this because I'm seeing a lot of good posts about how you need to get involved in your local community, but if you're exhausted and scared that can seem really daunting. But I want you to know that as much as they need you, YOU need THEM. You need to survive, and even live if possible. Do not underestimate the healing and motivating power of being with your people. If it can't be other queer people, build connections with anyone sympathetic, and with other people who are having to batten the hatches right now. We should all be building ties with those people anyway.

And this is really important - allow yourself community with those you don't totally agree with. Now is not the time to let infighting and ideological purity get in the way of growth. Be safe. I love you.

[kaijutegu]

hey friends if you're looking for a way to limit social media consumption because your family makes you sad or you get into some real dark thoughts whenever you open twitter, here's something good you can do for yourself.

first, figure out what your muscle memory social media sites are. like for me, i usually pop open a twitter or facebook tab regardless of what i'm doing. i don't think about it, my fingers just kinda. go there, for checking on stuff. i use other social media sites but i have to think about going there, these are just my muscle memory social media sites. oh before i go further, this is for desktop/laptop, my advice for mobile is just uninstall the app versions of your muscle memory social media sites are.

then, download LeechBlock. there's other blockers too but like, that's the one I use bc I enjoy its functionality.

throw your muscle memory sites into the blocker. one of the things I like so much about LeechBlock is that you can give it blocks of time that you can access the site. if you have people you're checking on, if you want to get news from wherever, that's ok, but genuinely, do not give yourself unfettered access to the worst of what humanity has to offer. because that's what a lot of these muscle memory social media platforms are. because that's what a lot of social media has become. (not you tungl.hell, you're special.)

anyways here's what i set up. i noticed that it's facebook and twitter being my scylla and charbydis of doomscrolling, so i just created a custom filter to block them and just set my time limit to forever.

and if you NEED access to these sites you can set up times where you can block them more specifically, but for me, accessing them in my main browser is... a bad idea.

see, the whole point of this is to wean me off of the muscle memory. i'm use to pressing f+enter and facebook comes up. now when i want to access fb, it's a pain in the ass. that minor inertia keeps me away from it, and i can still easily access it in my work browser when i need it for herp society stuff. but that tiny barrier to entry makes a huge difference.

another thing you can do is log out of these sites each time you leave and have it not remember your login and so that makes logging in an intentional choice each time, which is often a disincentive or at least promotes spending more time deciding to be there. but that's more work than my lazy set it and forget it method.

the truth is that these sites are not likely to help you unless you're doing something specific and can avoid most of your feed. even if you have lots of good friends and community, you can't opt out of the terrible algo posts, and they are going to serve up polarizing content and right now, you probably don't need that. or if you do, you need it in a more mindful context, you need to not be sort of... drifting to your social platforms. i'm not saying don't engage at all, i'm saying be smart and thoughtful about it. as always, you are responsible for curating your own internet experience, and this includes after a real bad election. this is a tool you can use to protect yourself and stop doomscrolling before it starts.

[say-duhnelle]

I tried to explain this to a fully kool-aided libertarian once and he responded with nothing of substance, just calling me a "fat cow" and a "fucking lesbian" (he had never met me and this was on Facebook, where my profile at the time gave away almost nothing about me to folks I wasn't "friends" with, including my appearance, but for the record, I'm not fat and while I am bi I keep that info faaaaar away from my IRLs, especially back then).

He was arguing that he should be able to build his own house on his own property with no need to adhere to the building code because it would only affect him and his family if the whole thing collapsed. I pointed out that it would also affect any friends he invited over, who would probably assume it had been built structurally sound, and then said "but given how you've been speaking to me, it wouldn't surprise me if you don't have any friends who would want to come over to your house"

His new wife, a friend of mine from highschool who at that instant became a former friend, then had the nerve to come into my DMs to chew me out about how I had been so rude to him. Excuse me?

i think "it takes a village" shouldn't be just "to raise a child". we should understand it takes a village to do literally everything we do. all day every day. without our communities we would not have drinking water or electricity or clean streets or food or shelter or anything. we cannot do any thing alone. we just can't. and with that comes the fact that you are not alone. you already have a community, seek to be an active part of it, you will feel better. reach out and thank them, they're happy to have you too. i promise. it takes a village to live.

[rispwr]

Hate you - chapter 1 - J.JK

Pairings : ex! Jungkook x ex! Reader

Notes : finally here!! lowkey didn't get to my word goal:((

Genre : Ex2L, angst, slow burn, fake dating, slice of life, fluff, e2l, corporate rivals, smau, smut

Sypnosis : ��You were always told that hating someone is the only way it doesn’t hurt but what if you can’t hate him? No matter how hard you try your heart will always find it’s way to his’

2 years after breaking up with your boyfriend of 2 years you were finally on your way to become the ceo of your family’s company your rival turns out to be your ex.

Contents/warnings :

Misunderstood break up, insecurities, mentions of self harms or mental health issues, jk is mean at the start, yelling, sensitive language or words, mentions of family trauma, corporate au, smart (both), mentions of yoongi x oc, mentions of cheating, soon to be ceo! Jk, soon to be ceo! Oc, oc is still named Y/n or {__}, corporate rivals?, fake dating, lack of communication, death of a character, mentions of suicide attempt, platonic relationships with other members

NSFW contents : specified in chapter

The question that lingers in my mind

Namjoon quickly made his way to your house, arms loaded with a tub of your favorite ice cream and a bag filled with your favorite go to alcohol or probably beer. He was your closest friend, practically a brother, and he always seemed to know how to comfort you when you needed it most. The familiar sound of his knuckles tapping against the door echoed through your silent apartment.

"Y/N! I'm hereee!" he called, his voice bright and cheerful, trying to cut through the heaviness of the moment.

"It's open! Just come in," you managed to reply, though your voice cracked, betraying the tears you had been trying to stifle. As soon as the door swung open, you felt a fresh wave of sobs building in your chest.

Namjoon rushed in, his expression shifting from playful to concerned in an instant. "What happened??" he asked, worry etched across his features as he approached your room.

You couldn't find the words, the emotions overwhelming you as you sat on the edge of your bed, crumpled tissues littering the floor around you. Instead, you just continued to cry, your heart breaking all over again.

"Do you want me to call Jungkook??" he offered, but at the mention of his name, your sobs intensified. The thought of hearing his voice was too painful, too fresh.

Namjoon paused, taking a moment to assess the situation. He knelt beside you, turning your head gently to meet his gaze. "Did you guys fight?" he asked softly, as if trying to piece together the fragments of your distress.

You shook your head, tears spilling down your cheeks. "Worse," you finally managed to reply, voice trembling. "Joon... he fucking broke up with me. He fucking—fuck. He dumped me."

The air felt heavy with the weight of your confession, and Namjoon's eyes widened in shock. "Why?? What happened??" he pressed, his tone a mix of disbelief and concern.

"Exactly... I don't know what I did wrong," you sobbed harder, the floodgates opening. "How can he just throw away our memories like that? And he has the fucking audacity to tell me to wait for him" Your words trailed off, and you buried your face in your hands, unable to contain the wave of sorrow crashing over you.

Namjoon instinctively pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in a comforting embrace. "Hey, it's okay. Just let it out," he murmured, gently rubbing your back as you tried to cool down.

After a few moments, you pulled away slightly, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. "Let's go to a club later, Joon. Maybe I'll find someone better there," you suggested, the anger in your voice barely masking the hurt.

"No, Y/N. You are not getting knocked up or catching dirty diseases from filthy men in clubs," he replied firmly, though there was a hint of a smile at your reckless idea. "Let's just drink or hang out today, yeah?"

You considered it for a moment. "We can bring friends too if you want," he suggested, gauging your reaction.

Flashback

The moment you received Jungkook's breakup text, your heart sank. The message was blunt, cold, and devoid of any emotion—just like the man you once thought would love you forever. With shaking hands, you stared at your phone, disbelief coursing through you. After two years of shared dreams and plans, he had chosen to end things with a simple text. It felt unreal, like a cruel joke played by the universe.

You had to see him, to confront him. You couldn't let this end without hearing his voice, without understanding why. So you drove to his penthouse, each turn of the road amplifying the dread that clutched at your heart.

When you arrived, you barely registered the grandeur of his place—the sleek furniture, the breathtaking view of the city that had once felt like a backdrop to your love story. Instead, all you could think about was the weight of Jungkook's decision and the emptiness that came with it.

You stepped inside, the familiar scent of his cologne wrapping around you like a memory. Your footsteps echoed in the spacious hallway as you made your way to his room. You could feel your heart racing, a mixture of anger, confusion, and sorrow bubbling up inside you.

"Y/N... I told you we're done," Jungkook's voice was strained as he stood with his back to you, facing the window. His shoulders were tense, and he seemed unwilling to meet your gaze.

"Is that really how you're going to do this? You sent me a text. A fucking text, Jungkook! You didn't tell me anything." Your voice rose, a sharp edge of frustration cutting through the pain.

He turned slightly, just enough for you to see the profile of his face, marred by uncertainty and conflict. "Y/N... I need space, alright?!" The sudden snap in his tone took you aback, his frustration spilling over.

"Space? Why?" Your voice cracked, the gravity of his words sinking in. "What did I do wrong? Was I not enough?" Each question felt like a dagger, piercing through the thin veil of composure you had left.

"Was there someone el—" Before you could finish, Jungkook stepped forward, closing the gap between you in an instant. He grabbed your face with both hands and crashed his lips onto yours. The kiss was desperate, consuming, as if he were trying to devour you, to erase the reality of what was happening.

You melted into him, instinctively wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer. Your heart raced, conflicting emotions swirling inside you. But just as quickly as it began, he pulled away, breathless and tearful.

"Jungkook... baby, please, no..." you begged, your voice trembling as the tears you had been holding back began to spill over. "Don't do this to us."

"I think it's time we take a break, Y/N." His voice was softer now, but it carried an unyielding finality. "I'll come back to you once I'm all better and perfect for you. Hm?" He brought your face up gently, forcing you to look into his eyes, those familiar brown depths that had always felt like home.

You nodded silently, your heart breaking at the thought of being apart. The weight of his words crushed you, leaving you feeling small and defeated.

Minutes passed in silence, a heavy tension settling between you. It felt as if the air had thickened, each breath becoming a struggle as you both tried to navigate the emotional turmoil that had engulfed you.

"I just... I don't understand," you finally whispered, trying to process the whirlwind of feelings. "We were happy, weren't we? What changed?"

He sighed, raking a hand through his hair in frustration. "It's not that simple, Y/N. I don't want to drag you down with me. I need to figure things out... for both of us."

"But I want to help you! I want to be there for you!" you protested, tears streaming down your cheeks, mascara running down in dark streaks. "Why can't you see that?"

"Because sometimes love isn't enough," he replied, his voice strained with emotion. He stepped back, distancing himself as if he were afraid of the intensity of what was happening between you.

The moment stretched painfully, the silence growing heavier. You felt as if you were teetering on the edge of a precipice, unsure of how to step back from this chasm. You wanted to scream, to shake him and make him see reason, but all you could do was stand there, vulnerable and exposed.

"can you do something for me baby?" Jungkook said, his expression softening for a moment. "just- just wait for me. i'll be back once i'm all ready, better and fit for you. can you be okay with that baby?"

The thought of moving on without him felt unbearable. "How can you ask me that? How can you just walk away and expect me to be okay?" Your voice was barely a whisper, each word laced with sorrow.

"Because I love you," he said, and it felt like a knife to your heart. "And I don't deserve you. his is the hardest thing I've ever had to do, i'll be back once i finally deserve you."

The finality of his words hung in the air, suffocating you. It felt like the walls were closing in, and you struggled to breathe.

"I can't believe you're doing this," you murmured, feeling your heart splintering into a million pieces. "I thought we were in this together."

"Y/N... please," he said, his voice breaking slightly. He stepped closer again, his hands cupping your face. "I need you to trust me. This is what's best for both of us."

You searched his eyes, looking for any sign of doubt, any flicker of hesitation. But all you saw was resolve, and it shattered you. You couldn't fight against him anymore; it felt like trying to hold back the tide.

"Just... go," you finally said, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. "If this is what you want, then go. But don't expect me to be here when you come back."

With that, you turned away, feeling like a ghost in the place that had once felt like home. The silence followed you as you walked out of his room, your heart heavy with the weight of your shattered dreams.

The drive back to your penthouse was a blur. You could barely see through the tears streaming down your face, mascara staining your cheeks. Each turn felt like a reminder of what you had lost. You replayed the moments you had shared, the laughter, the plans, the way he had looked at you with such warmth. Now, it was all gone—an illusion shattered by a single text.

When you arrived at your penthouse, the familiar surroundings offered little comfort. The walls felt like they were closing in on you, suffocating you with memories that now felt tainted. You dropped your keys on the table, the sound echoing through the silence.

You collapsed onto the bed, wrapping your arms around yourself as if trying to hold together the pieces of your broken heart. The emptiness inside you ached, a deep, gnawing pain that refused to let go. You could feel the tears coming again, an uncontrollable wave of sorrow crashing over you.

Why couldn't he see that you were enough? That you wanted to fight for him, for the love you had built together?

2 weeks

It had been two weeks since Jungkook broke up with you—two weeks of silence that felt louder than any argument you'd ever had. Two weeks without his messages lighting up your phone, his reassuring voice calling you just to check in, or his sweet words that somehow always knew how to soothe the deepest parts of you. The absence was a void, consuming and hollow, yet sharp at the edges, cutting into you with every reminder.

You missed the little things. How he would text you "good morning" without fail, his sleepy voice leaving voicemails if he couldn't reach you. The silly pictures he'd send to make you laugh on your roughest days, and his small, unexpected gifts. They'd come in glossy packages, ribbons you'd undo with eager hands only to reveal something so extravagantly expensive you'd feel your heart swell and your voice catch, telling him he didn't have to spend so much. But he would just smile, his hand resting gently against your cheek, saying, "You deserve to be treated for what you're worth. And you're worth millions... billions. So much more than that."

No amount of words had convinced him that you didn't need all those grand gestures. It was his presence, his love, that was priceless to you. He was what you wanted, all you needed. But now, without him, even those little things he left behind seemed like they were mocking you, a painful reminder of promises unkept.

Two weeks should have been long enough to let go, to start piecing together the shattered remains of your heart. You told yourself every day that it was time to move on, to forget. But your heart betrayed you every night as you lay in bed, reaching instinctively to the other side where he used to lie. The sheets were cold now, his scent slowly fading. And with each reminder, a thousand questions echoed in your mind.

Why was it so easy for him to leave? Why did he walk away so quickly while you were still drowning in the memories he left behind?

You took a deep breath, swallowing down the ache that rose in your throat. This wasn't healthy. You couldn't go on like this, holding onto fragments of a love that no longer existed. Standing up, you made your way to your closet, determination stiffening your resolve. If he could move on so easily, then so could you.

Opening the doors, you took in the rows of clothes neatly hung, interspersed with items that weren't yours—hoodies, shirts, and jackets that he'd left behind after countless nights spent together. You reached out, fingers brushing over a worn T-shirt of his, the fabric soft and familiar beneath your touch. You could still remember the last time he'd worn it, his arms wrapped around you as you lay in his embrace, your head resting against his chest, his heartbeat lulling you to sleep.

But that was then. And now... now it was time to let go.

You started pulling his clothes out one by one, each article feeling heavier than the last. It was almost a ritual, each item you took out a small act of defiance, a reclaiming of the space he'd left behind. As the pile grew, so did the anger simmering within you. It bubbled up, breaking through the sadness, sharpening into something fierce and raw.

"Fuck you, Jungkook," you muttered under your breath, barely realizing that you'd spoken aloud. "For making me love you and then leaving me like this." The words tumbled out, each one laced with the bitterness that had been building up inside you.

With each piece you tossed into the box, the weight on your chest seemed to lessen just a bit. You threw in the hoodies he'd lent you on cold nights, the shirts you'd worn as pajamas, each one carrying the ghost of his touch. You wanted them out of your sight, out of your life.

Once his clothes were gone, you moved on to the other things—the little keepsakes he'd left behind. His toothbrush next to yours, his cologne bottle half-empty on the dresser, the small stack of books he'd borrowed and never returned. You swept it all into the box, each item feeling like a wound you were finally closing.

But as you finished packing everything, your hand brushed against something cold, and you froze. It was the necklace—the one he'd given you on that perfect night when he'd promised you forever. Your fingers trembled as you held it up, the delicate chain glinting in the light. You remembered how he'd clasped it around your neck, his fingers grazing your skin as he whispered, "This is my promise to you. I'm never leaving, no matter what."

The weight of his broken promise pressed down on you, and before you could stop it, the tears spilled over. You clutched the necklace tightly, the cool metal digging into your palm as you struggled to hold yourself together.

Why had he left? Why hadn't he fought for you, for the life you'd planned together? You'd given him everything, yet he'd walked away as if it meant nothing.

Your knees buckled, and you sank down onto the floor, sobs wracking your body as the pain you'd tried so hard to contain came rushing to the surface. You felt like you were drowning, lost in a sea of grief and anger and confusion. It was as if every part of you that had once been whole was now fractured, broken beyond repair.

In the midst of your tears, you fumbled for your phone, your fingers shaking as you scrolled through your contacts. Without thinking, you dialed Namjoon's number, needing the comfort of someone who understood, who could help anchor you in the storm of emotions.

The phone rang, and after a few moments, his familiar voice answered. "Yes, Y/N? Is everything okay?" His tone was warm, tinged with concern, and it only made the tears flow harder.

"Joon..." you choked out, trying to steady your breathing. "Why—why is this so hard? I just... I just wish there was something more I could hate him for. Something to make this easier, to stop myself from loving him..." Your voice broke, a fresh wave of sobs escaping as the words you'd been holding in finally spilled out.

"Oh, Y/N..." Namjoon's voice softened, filled with empathy. "He's an asshole for doing this to you, babe. You didn't deserve any of it. I'm so sorry." There was a pause, and then he added gently, "Want me to come over? I can bring some ice cream, or we can just sit and talk if you need."

For a brief moment, the thought of having him there was comforting. But you shook your head, even though he couldn't see it. "No... I'm alright. I just... I just needed to hear your voice," you murmured, the exhaustion in your voice evident.

"Okay," he said quietly, and you could hear the sadness in his tone, the frustration that he couldn't do more to help. "But if you change your mind, I'm just a call away. Promise me you'll take care of yourself?"

"Yeah..." you replied softly, the words barely more than a whisper.

Before he could say more, you ended the call, feeling a pang of guilt. Namjoon had always been there for you, a steady presence in your life, yet right now, not even his reassurance could ease the ache inside you.

You looked down at the necklace still clutched in your hand, your fingers loosening around it. It felt heavy, a tangible reminder of the promises he'd broken, the love that had once felt so real. Slowly, you unclasped it from around your neck, feeling a strange sense of finality as you placed it gently in the box, on top of everything else.

The last piece of him, gone.

flashback

Paris was like a living dream. The city's air felt soft, carrying the scent of fresh bread, blooming flowers, and that slight trace of romance found only here. Jungkook's hand held yours as you both strolled down cobblestone streets, the lights of the city casting a warm, golden glow on the world around you. It was your first anniversary, and Jungkook had insisted on making it memorable.

"The city suits you," he murmured, his eyes soft as they roamed over your face. You squeezed his hand in response, feeling so grateful to be here with him.

"It's... perfect," you breathed, taking in the architecture, the people, and, most of all, him.

That day, as you both wandered through Paris, something caught your eye in a small shop window—a necklace, delicate yet striking, in the shape of a butterfly. You stopped in front of it, drawn in by the design's subtle elegance. But you were careful not to linger too long, as you weren't one to ask for material things. Growing up, you were used to having everything handed to you without a word, and you always felt a tinge of guilt about it. It made you appreciate thoughtfulness over wealth.

Jungkook noticed the way your eyes lingered, though you quickly looked away. He smiled to himself, filing the moment away in his mind. You had no idea that he'd already decided on a plan.

That night, back in the hotel room, you were peacefully asleep after a long day. With your steady breathing as his only company, Jungkook slowly and carefully slipped out of bed, glancing at you one last time to make sure you were truly asleep. He moved quietly, slipping out the door and into the Parisian night, with a mission in mind.

Jungkook made his way back to the boutique. The shopkeeper, who was just about to close up, welcomed him with a knowing smile as he walked in.

"Changed your mind about the necklace, sir?" she asked, recognizing him.

"Yes," Jungkook replied, a hint of excitement in his voice. "I'd like it custom-made."

He explained his idea: the initials "K.Y." and "J.JK" engraved on the back, where only the two of you would know. The butterfly itself meant more to him than he could easily say; it was a symbol of transformation and new beginnings. Y/N had helped him see that change didn't have to be terrifying, that it could be a journey to something better. She was the one who had encouraged him to open his heart and embrace the unknown. In a way, she had transformed him. The necklace was not just a gift; it was his heart, crafted in gold, for her to wear close to hers.

after paying. he held the necklace in his hand, feeling a wave of excitement wash over him as he admired the initials engraved so delicately. He could already imagine your face when you'd see it, and he smiled to himself as he headed back to the hotel, hiding the box carefully before slipping back into bed beside you.

On the last night of the trip, Jungkook took your hand, guiding you to a spot near the Eiffel Tower. The sky was a rich, deep blue, and the lights of the tower illuminated everything around you, casting a golden glow that felt almost magical. You were mesmerized, feeling a sense of peace and happiness that only deepened with him beside you.

Jungkook stopped in front of you, letting go of your hand to reach into his pocket. "Close your eyes," he whispered, his voice warm.

You laughed, your heart fluttering. "What? You're not proposing or something, are you?" you joked, cheeks warming as you looked up at him.

"Not yet," he replied softly, his eyes holding a promise, "but close. I'll definitely do that one day, baby." His words sent a shiver through you, and you obeyed, closing your eyes as your heart raced.

"Okay, open your eyes," he said, a note of excitement in his voice.

You opened them, and there it was—the butterfly necklace you'd seen on the first day, resting in his open palm. "Oh my god...!" You squealed, your hands flying to your mouth. The necklace was even more beautiful up close, the delicate wings catching the light perfectly. You launched yourself at Jungkook, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. "I love you! I can't believe you did this!"

Jungkook laughed, holding you close and watching the pure joy on your face. "Look at the back," he said gently, guiding the necklace to face you.

You turned it over and gasped as you read the initials, your own and his, engraved into the back. The sight of it brought tears to your eyes, the meaning behind the gesture sinking in deeply. "Oh my god, baby..." You could barely speak, your heart full.

He brushed his thumb over your cheek, smiling softly. "It's a butterfly, like you, because you helped me through my fear of change. You showed me that change can be beautiful, that letting go and starting new... can lead to amazing things. You opened my heart to new beginnings, and the best beginning you gave me... was with you."

"Jungkook..." Tears brimmed in your eyes, and for a moment, all you could do was look at him, taking in every detail of the person who had become your whole world. You reached up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, then to his nose, and both his cheeks, making him giggle.

"I love you," you whispered against his cheek, "so, so much. Thank you for this—for everything."

back to present

As you closed the lid, you felt a strange sense of emptiness. The box sat there, filled with fragments of a love that had once been everything to you, and yet now, it was nothing more than a collection of memories you were desperate to forget.

For the rest of the night, you sat in silence, the weight of the loss settling over you like a heavy blanket. You wanted to hate him, to erase every trace of him from your mind. But no matter how hard you tried, his presence lingered, a haunting reminder of what you'd once had and what you'd lost.

I'll get over him, you told yourself, though the words felt hollow, as if you were trying to convince yourself of something that wasn't true. But maybe, just maybe, if you repeated it enough, one day it would be real.

3 months

The days blurred together after the breakup. Three months. For three whole months, you'd convinced yourself that this hatred for Jungkook was all you needed to numb the pain. At first, it worked, almost like a coping mechanism—every time you felt that ache in your chest, you would remind yourself of the reasons to be angry, to stay distant. But no matter how many times you reminded yourself of the anger, it was never enough to cover the emptiness, the loneliness that slowly crept in, hollowing out pieces of you.

You were isolating yourself from everyone who tried to reach you, pushing them away as if they were intruders. Namjoon had called and texted every day, and Jennie had stopped by repeatedly, but you never opened the door. Even Seokjin had come over with Sana to try and pull you out of this haze. Yet you felt too far gone. You loved Jungkook. Too much. And every time you thought of him, it felt like a fresh wound tearing open.

Then came that Thursday morning, the first rays of light slipping through your curtains, though you could barely feel them. You'd spent another night tossing and turning, haunted by memories of him. And something within you just... broke. You reached for the bottle of sleeping pills by your bedside, not thinking, just wanting the pain to fade. One pill, then two, then three, then more. You felt yourself drifting, the world becoming softer, quieter.

But the next thing you knew, you were waking up, blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights of a hospital room. It felt like a dream, surreal and hazy, until you began to focus on the faces surrounding you—your family, looking terrified and heartbroken, Namjoon with his head in his hands, Jennie crying softly beside him, and Seokjin gripping Sana's hand tightly. And then, your gaze landed on him. Jungkook was there, his eyes red and swollen, a look of devastation etched across his face. They were all worried sick.

The night before, Namjoon had wanted to surprise you with Sana. They'd brought over your favorite snacks and movies, hoping to lift your spirits. But when they arrived, your place was silent. Namjoon had called your name, but there was no answer. That's when they found you, lying on your bed, your hand loosely clutching the bottle of pills. Sana had screamed for him, her voice trembling and desperate. "Namjoon! Call 911! Please, I beg you!" She was sobbing as she held you in her arms, trying to shake you awake, her own heart breaking with each unresponsive second. "Y/N, please... please wake up!"

Namjoon's hands had shaken as he called for help, explaining the situation to the paramedics, his own voice cracking as he fought to stay composed. They both were crying, praying as they waited for the ambulance, the moments dragging on as they feared the worst.

Now, seeing you awake, a mixture of relief and heartbreak filled the room. But the silence was thick, tension brewing as everyone grappled with what had almost happened. It was Jungkook who broke it, his voice raw, trembling with both anger and hurt.

"Y/N, are you... are you insane?" he snapped, his fists clenched, his face a mixture of anger and fear. "Do you have any idea what you almost did?"

You felt your heart clench, the pain resurfacing, sharper now in his presence. "So what, Jungkook?" you replied bitterly, your voice shaking. "Why do you even care? You didn't care about my feelings when you decided to just leave me. You left, Jungkook. You left, and now you're acting like you care?"

The words spilled out before you could stop them, each one filled with months of pain and anger that had been bottled up. Jungkook opened his mouth, about to say something, but you cut him off.

"Leave, Jungkook. Just leave."

The finality in your words hit him like a punch. He froze, staring at you, his face contorted with hurt. Then, without another word, he turned and walked out of the room. The door shut behind him with a loud thud that seemed to echo through the silence, leaving everyone else frozen in place, tears streaming down their faces. Jennie clung to Seokjin, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs, while Namjoon looked at you, his own face wet with tears as he fought to hold himself together.

It was only then that the weight of everything you'd put them through hit you, the reality of how close they'd come to losing you. They sat in silence, each one lost in their own thoughts, grieving for the person they'd almost lost, the pain written across their faces as they struggled to find the right words.

taglist : @crazyovayou @minghaosimp @pitchblack0309 @kpopsmutty69 @junecat18 @primadonnasdream @minimoniminimoni @7lilacpetals @vonvi-blog @jk97bam @kissyfacekoo @baechugff @chuberry22 @nerdycheol @etaernaluvv

[mintmatcha]

obsessed with kirishima in that new sero series ngl,,, if you ever want to or decide to write, i'd love to hear abt kirishima and reader hanging out- or just how they are with each other. how they became friends etc etc

anyways,,, how have u been miiiint how's it going ;w;

on her knees, his mom smoothed his hair down one day and told him he had to be friends with the girl across the hall. the city was still half built from after the war, his own cuts healed, yet pink.

"you're such a sweet boy," she mumbled, with a kiss on the forehead. "go be sweet."

and so, he was marched over, box of sweets in hand.

"i'm eijiro-" he uses his given name when you answer the door, instead of the family one labelled outside their door. "my mom made these for you."

You don't reach out to take the box. he's afraid you're about to back up and close the door when you shake your head.

"you d-didn't need to do that," you whisper, ducking away from eye contact. Oh, he thinks. That's why his mom sent him over here.

"it's cool!" He pushes the box forward and you gingerly take it, "My mom loves to do stuff like this."

You bow, just a dip of your head, and Kirishima gets a view into the apartment. It's smaller than his family's, with the living room right by the front door and the walls glossed with pink posters. There's a bookshelf packed with figurines and manga.

"whoa." Kirishima gapes. "your parents much really like anime."

"Oh, uh-" You shut the door a bit, trying to block his view. "I-it's just me. I like anime."

"Your parents let you decorate the apartment? That's so cool."

"no, it's just me." You still can't meet his eye. "My parents live out in the country side and it's too far away from my school."

It's not uncommon for students to get apartments near their high schools, but Kirishima thinks it's a strange choice for something as skittish as you. Living by yourself, in the middle of the city, while they rebuild it all: he doesn't know if he could do it.

"That genius school down the road?" Kirishima points in the (probably incorrect) direction. It's not UA, of course, but it's just as competitive to get in. "You gotta help me with math sometime-- I'm drowning."

For the first time, you smile.

"I am not a genius," you say. "But I can take a look."

-

Thursdays turn into tutoring sessions. You're a year behind him in school, but a year ahead of him in math, which makes you a tough grader. Kirishima thinks that you might actually be a genius sometimes. His mom pays you in warm meals, his dad irons your uniform for you when he has the time.

It fills the gap leaving the dorms left in his social life.

"don't you get lonely?" he asks one night, sitting in the middle of your apartment. the faucet leaks, a constant, drip, drip, drip, that your dad promises to fix the next time he can make the train ride over. "your friends from school never come over."

you've scribbled little Xs across your piece of scrap paper, each one tiny and dark, drawn with a shaking hand.

"yeah," you say, "it's okay. they're just busy, i guess."

[tacthescribbler]

I really don't know how to approach my response, so I apologize for the chaotic mess that you're about to read.

I recall a post that talked about the discovery of a mended bone. One of the first indicators of people working together wasn't pottery, or tools, or cloth. It was a bone that had clearly been broken and reset. A bone that had healed. This means that someone had to not only set the bone, but take care of the injured individual until it was healed.

We are a species who has evolved to work together.

My default state of mind is: Everyone deserves basic human rights. Everyone deserves access to food, shelter, healthcare, and so on. I don't care what color your skin is, what country you hail from, whether you are disabled. You deserve to be cared for.

I engage with everyone from this mindset. I assume everyone who speaks to me also does so from this mindset until/unless they prove me wrong.

Whenever I get into my car, I drive out of consideration for everyone else on the street. When I do my job, I work to ensure that in all the places my job touches someone else's, I've made their job a little easier. I return my shopping carts not for the social karma, but because the employees at the grocery store deserve not to have their jobs made more difficult by laziness. When I vote, I vote for candidates/policies that I know will take care of as many people as possible.

Because the world isn't about me.

"It is well to remember that the entire universe, with one trifling exception, is composed of others." - John Holmes

For most of my life, I've struggled to grasp the idea that other people do not (or sometimes cannot) operate from this perspective.

Of course, that was before 2016. I was raised in a heavily-religious Christian home. My older sister was made to throw away a Pokemon toy from her Happy Meal because "Pokemon are not real animals created by God. They are evil." We were not allowed to read the Harry Potter books. (Not a big deal to me; I've never been interested in them. But my sister was.) The one time my introverted self wanted to do something social in high school, it was a D&D game with classmates. "Are you sure you want to engage with witchcraft," my mom asked me. I dropped it and didn't ask again.

It wasn't all bad, though. My parents showed me how to be kind and compassionate, and how to help others.

They voted for trump. And I watched as my parents turned into people I do not recognize.

I'm not sure how to tie all this up into a neat bow. The point is, if we as people (Left or Right) aren't working to improve as many lives as possible, then what's the point?

Do I expect Pacifism from people? No, of course not. I would never expect a person to forgive their rapist, the person who murdered their friend/family, the guy who flipped them off for taking too long to cross the street.

But I would like for people to have some fucking compassion. Give people the benefit of the doubt (where appropriate).

Look, I understand. I've just about had it with people voting to strip me of my bodily autonomy. To kill my non-binary sibling or throw them into conversion therapy. (To be quite honest, I've fucking had it with my parents' transphobic bullshit. "God made you a man and God doesn't make mistakes.") I'm at a point where I'm sick and fucking tired of trying to drag the rest of my nation with me down a path where they are cared for, fed, clothed, sheltered, and accepted for who they are.

And I also get the fact that there are some who cannot be convinced. I'm certain my parents are among them. After all, they have their bible. They don't have to think critically. Their holy book tells them what to think. It's part of why conversations with them are so unproductive. Because they don't introspect or regulate emotions when they have scripture to tell them how to respond to a thing.

But I've still also not called my parents to chew them out, because I know that won't help anything. It'll only further the divide that they don't even realize is between us. How will I convince them to stand with me if all they get from me is aggression.

Whether you're Left or Right, if your first instinct about someone is to treat them as an enemy, you are part of the problem. We move forward by being accepting and open-minded. For those of us who lean Left, that goes fucking double.

Don't be a pushover, but don't be a bully.

We can only move forward together.

There are obviously caveats to what I've said, as well as plenty I've left unsaid. I hope those who read this will take it in good faith and understand that I'm not asking for everyone to just drop their grievances or pretend that shit isn't bad. I just wanted to share a little of my perspective. We're all human beings and I think common ground can start there, if we let it.

I hope we can overcome ourselves and be better.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[warblogs17282]

A quick breakdown on how Blitz has made IMP's + Stolas' lives better.

Millie:

To start, Blitz shatters the stereotypes and such Millie grew up surrounded by and believing, more specifically, the stereotypes of that Wrathians are only good for muscle and that all she could be is a simple farm girl or an underpaid goon. Blitz shatters these by quickly calling out those stereotypes as 'bullshit', and proceeds to list off Millie's good qualities, which are much more then just muscle. And well, we definitely see the qualities Blitz said Millie had in her all the time. "You're tougher, smarter, and frankly more capable than anyone I've ever met in any ring."

Plus, the line where Millie said that Blitz made her feel like she could be anything as well, because she believed that Blitz could be anything. Blitz made Millie believe that she could be more than a simple farm girl, more than an underpaid goon.

"He gave me so much…A career, a husband, a future. And now…He's my best friend."

Moxxie:

The classic scene where Blitz just talks a mile a minute, never gets old. But seriously, the first thing of note is just how Blitz is instantly able to point out a good quality in Moxxie, that being, the fact that Moxxie is really good with guns. Just look at Moxxie while Blitz is talking about things like his daughter and his plan on how to get out of the prison. Blitz is able to very quickly uplift Moxxie by just being his mile a minute self, and that is a quality I love in Blitz.

Plus, alongside breaking Moxxie out of prison, he also got him a life away from Crimson, his abusive father. Away from the mob life he was forced into, even as a young child.

Plus, I feel like we can also apply Millie's line of "He gave me so much…A career, a husband, a future. And now…He's my best friend." to Moxxie. A career, a wife, a future outside of Crimson and the mob family. I imagine the best friend part holds true as well.

Loona:

You all remember why Blitz adopted Loona, right? It's because Blitz saw so much of himself in Loona. Blitz felt the need to prevent Loona from going through similar things that he did, to break the cycle of abuse, to give Loona a caring and loving father that Blitz never had. All of this being a month before she grew out of the adoption system.

And Blitz's love and care for Loona is quite obvious, which Loona herself admits to in s2 e2.

"That doesn't mean they don't care." and "He may not always get it right, but he's trying."

This is the most obvious example of Blitz loving and caring for Loona, that Loona recognizes that Blitz loves and cares for her greatly, despite Blitz being flawed and imperfect (cause let's be real, no one is perfect or not flawed at all).

Stolas:

As well as giving Stolas some of the best days he's ever had in his life, Blitz also gave Stolas the ability to stand up to Stella, the person who abused Stolas for all of those years. To allow Stolas to have his own autonomy, to be his own person, instead of feeling like he has to follow along with whatever Stella and/or the Goetia family wants him to do. He also gave Stolas the courage to get the divorce, which in turn, massively helps to take away the power Stella had over Stolas for all of those years.

[palindrome-mystery]

After the ending of The Sunshine Court Neil is 100% on Jeremy's hate list.

The others don't understand why Captain Sunshine and Smiles who gets along with everyone absolutely hates Neil Josten and will scowl whenever his name is brought up.

Laila and Cat are just like, yeah he's a weird guy but he was on the run for 8 years from his mafioso father who tortured him and tried to kill him. Gonna be a little weird after something like that. But he seemed like a good sport when we played against his team last season.

But to Jeremy, Neil flew in from South Carolina to California with no warning, just texted Jean when he landed in CA that he was in LA and they needed to talk. The timing was already awful because Jean had just been attacked and Jeremy wanted Jean to stay home where he could keep an eye on him but Jean insisted that if Neil was here it was because Neil had no choice and Jean had to go with him. And Neil wouldn't step inside the house, just spoke to Jean in French so Jeremy couldn't understand and then they were off and Jean was gone for like 6 hours.

Jeremy was probably staring out the living room window for Jean to return. And when he finally saw Neil pull up to the house, Jean slammed the car door shut and ran up the stairs. Jeremy had the front door open for him ready to ask what was wrong and if he was okay but Jean was upset and just stormed past him. Jeremy went to him in their room and asked him what he needed and that's when Jean asked him "If I asked you to kill me, would you?"

And Jeremy is scared for Jean and pleads for him to let him help him. They get through the night, with friends and dinner at midnight, and the promise that Jean is not ready to talk about it yet but one day...

From then on Neil Josten is enemy #1 to Jeremy Knox because whatever Neil and Jean did that day made Jean want to die.

Nearly a year later, when Jean and Jeremy are finally dating, Jean has shared some tidbits about how his family was mafia and he had been sold to the Ravens and why he's scared of water and that he had a sister and that the broken trinkets and postcards he won't throw away had been gifts from Kevin who had tried to show him pieces of the world while he was locked in the Nest...

Jean is informed that it's time for him to testify against his family and soon the world will know that his family was mafia. Neil calls to offer to fly down and go with him in support since he had gone through the same thing.

Jeremy is scowling when he realizes Jean is talking to Neil, and when Jean hangs up he asks Jeremy what's wrong. Jeremy reminds him that the last time he spent time with Neil he came home saying he wanted to die.

And Jean is just, 'oh, that,' and proceeds to finally tell Jeremy that Neil found out Jean's family was going to get taken down. Neil came up with a scheme to get Jean FBI protection so he would be safe when his family was burned. He got his crime-boss uncle involved to get the FBI's attention, came up with a fake story of them being old mafia childhood friends, and got Jean protection from the FBI in exchange for his cooperation.

Jeremy is staring back at Jean slack-jawed because that is absolutely bonkers and how did Neil Josten orchestrate that and oh my gosh Neil had been protecting Jean he totally got it wrong and needed to apologize to Neil for the death glares he had been sending his way at the last banquet.

And then Jean adds, 'and he also put a hit on my rapist.'

[gothamite-rambler]

I'd like to add that this is up there but oh my God the ones where the asshole makes you want to scream "How do you not see it!"

Those include:

The mother who harassed a teen girl at the mall under the assumption she stole her father's card (these two people don't know each other btw). She made a big spectacle and I shit you not added "My son is forbidden from using my card so I clearly know she stole it." The girl had to pay with her money because the cashier admitted if someone is accusing her and it turned out to be true the store could be in trouble (pretty much leaning to the fact this girl had her father's permission) and the girl left crying. Everyone in the store glared at the woman and this psycho's husband even said she was the asshole. She even wrote the post in a "guys tell my husband I'm write" type of fashion.

A girl said she was her sister to get out of a speeding ticket. All the sister did after that was admit that wasn't her. This got OP arrested and charged twice but her and her shitty family proceeded to ostracize the girl and acting like she can drop the charges and she's the bad guy because op was the first to go to college... If she's speeding like a lunatic and has been charged before that's her fault! Even her reason for not being on was spiteful and amounted to "My sister ruined my life!"

A guy cheated on a coding exam and I mean cheated. He paid someone to do the assignment in rust when it was C++ and the partner (a woman) did damn near all the work. Then he said he did the work which got her failing grade and the sexist professor refused to change her grade. Oh and he admitted in the comments unintentionally it wasn't a tutor he got and that even if it was those weren't allowed. Like why are you going to a coding class?!

A man and his hopefully ex girl went to a kpop concert. The boyfriend was a jackass and proceeded to shame her for listening to the bad brought up how she's too old to be a fan and mocked her in front of their friends who were equally disgusted by his reaction. He refused to apologize and she didn't bring him another concert... And he didn't know why.

There was one where a father shamed his daughter because her tampon fell out in the pool. Not only that though he proceeded to lock her in the room on the cruise and take away anything fun. Over an accident and yes he's the "just hold you period blood" guys (I hope it was fake though)

One where a mother punished her step daughter on vacation because the kid and her man child husband were competing and instead of this grown woman telling her husband to stop and teaching her daughter to not do dumb competitions, she punished the daughter. Oh and the replied implied she doesn't even like her daughter and sees her spoiled (she had limited custody btw)

A father basically left his daughter stranded on New Year's Eve because she broke some dumb rule. Like he hung up the phone and went to bed! The mother (he was divorced from her) got the girl and called the dude out and said the daughter would stay with her and this goober has the audacity to say that went against the custody agreement... You abandoned her!

A man found out his girlfriend wrote fanfiction and because of that ridiculed her and dismissed the doctorate she earned to the point his own family were calling him out.

Last one, a guy was in a cooking class and decided to bully and shame a woman in the class because she was a beginner. It was a beginner cooking class btw. The way he talked and acted was so smug to the point that the lady could've been revealed to burn the soup she was making but he was a bigger ass.

Oh and a lot of these where they're the asshole end with some variation of "They have a right to be mad... But I think they overreacted." Oh and double points if after the ruling they delete their whole account, get suspended or banned or double down not being the butthole in the comments.

Verdict: Sometimes it's okay to just admit you're an ass if you can't take the opinion of redditors!

This mom sounds so unpleasant to be around idk why her daughter even invited her in the first place

[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

[frogs-crackcorner]

An Angel All My Own P-1

Simon Riley x reader

Cw: fluff, out of character moments, my ADHD really shines through, reader likes older men

Captain John Price has been a family friend for as long as you can remember. He was always a kind man. Ready to chase you around the garden when you were little or throw you into the pool as you got a bit older. He was practically your uncle and fun one at that. He was always coming over to your parents house for weekend dinners and birthday parties. So it only seemed fair to invite him to your house warming party.

You had finally saved up enough money for a modest home in the country. It was on a rather large piece of land, mostly forested with a big clearing around the house. It was a little unnerving at night so you were glad that you weren't too far away from town, only about 15 minutes or so. The house only has three bedrooms but that was plenty for you since you were living alone. It was a cute little house with a spacious kitchen and a wrap around porch. You had started renovations the day you got the keys. You painted the walls, polished the floors, and swept out the fireplace. You took down the old lights and added some rugs. You planned on turning into the perfect cottage.

With your house nearly done, you wanted to invite some friends and family over for a house warming party. You ran into Price as he was leaving your parents and invited him to come too.

"That's fantastic, lass. I don't suppose you mind if I bring my team along? We're shipping out that evening and will be together anyways," he grins.

"Of course not, the more the merrier. It was nice seeing you, John," you chirp back.

"You too, lass. And hey? I'm proud of you." He tips head to you before strolling off to his car.

------------------------------<>------------------------------

The day of the party soon arrived and you were a bit of a mess. You had spent the morning baking cookies and getting things set up. You had set up chairs outside near the fire pit. Fairy lights were strung around the porch. A table with toppings, chips, and drinks was set up near the grill and you had all the burgers prepped. Now all the was missing was the guests.

To your surprise, Price was the first to arrive. You were just setting the cookies on the table when you saw his truck coming down the long driveway. You walked over to greet them as he was parking the truck. John stepped out and gave you a quick hug. "Good to see you, lass. The house looks lovely," he greets. A young man comes around the truck, his skin gold in the light of the sunset. "This is Sargent Garrick," Price says, clapping him on the back, "we just call him Gaz tho."

You hear more car doors slamming and two more men step out of the truck. "And these two muppets are Sargent Mactavish and Ghost," Price introduced. You look over to see a smiling Scotsman and what you can only assume is a mountain in tactical gear. "Mactavish, ma'am. Pleased to meet you. Just call me Soap," the Scot drawled through his thick accent.

"What was that?" Gaz exclaimed.

"Price said I 'ad to 'ave good behavior with the little lass," Soap shouted back. Gaz started to laugh. "And that's your best?," he chuckled, "Sorry bout him. He's used to being a flirt so he's off his game. Nice to meet you, I'm Gaz." He gave you a dazzling smile, shaking your hand. You could feel your cheeks start to heat up.

"Nice to meet you too. All of you," you said shyly. Price shot Gaz a pointed look and Gaz let go of your hand. It appears they had been given strict orders not to flirt with you. It was a little disappointing. They were gorgeous men and didn't seem much older than you. Well, two of them were gorgeous. You weren't entirely sure about the third. He had on a baseball cap and a black surgical mask. Deep brown eyes stared back at you, a little sunken in with dark circles around them. They seemed to pierce your very soul. You drop your gaze and turn back to the other men.

"Well you guys are the first ones here. Feel free to make yourselves at home. I've got everything set up on the side of the house. There are snacks and drinks if you'd like. I just need to grab a few more things from the kitchen," you say, leading them up to the house.

"Let us help," Price offers, "then you can give us a tour of the place."

"Do you guys want a tour?"

"Of course, bonnie. Want to see all the work you've done," Soap chimes in.

You open the front door and let them all inside. "Okay, well, this is the living room. I restored the wood floors, upstairs and downstairs. I took out the overhead lights and added wall lamps instead. Most of the decorations I found at a vintage market and I made the rest."

"Here in the kitchen, I redid the tile. The old tile was chipping for some reason. I took out the old white sink and installed this copper one. Oh, I completely redid the porch. A lot of the old wood was rotting. You can see the string lights I added," you say, pointing out the kitchen window. As you do, you notice two more cars coming down the driveway.

"The guest and master bedroom are upstairs. The office and bathroom are just down the hall to the right. I would show you the rest but more guests are arriving and I still have a few things to get done," you finish, picking up a bowl of salad from the counter.

"What can I do? Have you started up the grill?" Price asks.

"Not yet. Would you mind doing it?," you reply.

"Not at all. Gaz! Mactavish! Help the little lady take the rest of the food out," he calls, his voice commanding.

Soap and Gaz turn from their spot in the conjoining dining room.

"Right Captain. What would you like me to take?," Gaz asks.

"If you wouldn't mind taking the burgers and ribs out. And Soap if you could grab the napkins right there," you directed. "Oh I forgot about the ice." You begin shifting the items in your hands around to be able to grab the ice. Suddenly, wordlessly, Ghost is taking the bowl of salad from you and following the others out the kitchen door. His giant frame seemed out of place in your quaint home. His large black silhouette a stark contrast to the usual green and gold of the kitchen.

Although he was mountainous and rather intimidating, there seemed to be something else in his eyes. He almost looked lost. Sort of sad. He was calculating but not callous. He seemed to be on edge, not because he was inherently violent but because he was forced to be. You supposed it was all too common in their line of work. No one has ever told you details of what John Price and his team did for work but you knew they were military. You weren't a child anymore, you knew the horrors of this world. You couldnt even imagine the things these men must have seen.

You shook yourself out of your thoughts and went to greet the rest of the guests. Price has fired up the grill and was putting burgers on. The smell of smoke and summer grass hung heavy in the air. Guests milled around and chatted, several of them congratulating you on your new home. Your mother gave you a hug and told you how proud she was.

The night moved on without a hitch and soon most of the guests had gone home. You began throwing away the used cups and paper plates. "I got the grill all cleaned up for you lass," Price says, dusting off his hands.

"Thank you, you really didn't have to," you remarked.

"I know but it was the least I could do. We've got to get going, we have a plane to catch. Come on boys! Let's pack it out," he shouts.

"That's right! You're leaving. Hold on. Stay here," you urge, rushing into the house. You return with a brown box tied with twine. "Here. Thought you guys might want some treats for the trip," you offer. He takes the box from you.

"Thank you, lass. Though I don't expect these to last long, those muppets will have them eaten in the blink of an eye," Price smiles. Just then, Soap came running up.

"What's in the box then?," he asks.

"Nothing you can have right now. Get in the truck," Price chides. He's such a dad, you think to yourself. Soap slumps dramatically before giving you a cheeky grin.

"Lovely to meet you, bonnie. Hope to see you again soon," he smiles, kissing the top of your hand before jogging off to the truck. Price scowls at him as he disappears. Gaz and Ghost join you and price on the front lawn.

"Goodbye, love. It was wonderful to meet you," Gaz purred.

"You as well, Garrick," you tease. He gives you a quick wink before heading to the truck as well. Ghost goes to follow him before stopping and turning back to you. "Thank you," he mutters, his voice a deep rumble.

"Of course. You're welcome here anytime," you stutter.

As you watched them pile in and drive away, you had no idea how literally Ghost would take that offer.

(Let me know how you feel about the first part and any ideas you have, I'd love to hear your feedback)

[vento-di-fata]

To all my American friends, from an Italian who has been raised steeped in "love your country" bullshit.

Be selfish, and do what you can to save yourself. Do your best to bring as many loved ones as possible with you, but do not compromise your safety for the sake of a country and people who have turned against you.

If you decide to move away please don't let anybody try to convince you that you're 'abandoning' your country or your people. You are saving yourself and your loved ones, and can't help anybody else if you're dead and/or in jail. Protesting and fighting is good and all, but after a certain point, you must also think of your own safety. You are not a coward or a traitor. The only people who will tell you that are the ones who are not risking their life and livelihoods. Please do what it's best for yourself and your families.

Patriotism and community won't save you when police shoot you in the head for protesting.

Europe immigration portal

As an European and afaik I would say Finland, Ireland, Sweden and Germany are your best bets to move to because they have the best immigration and integration programs, as well as welfare and other necessities.

If you're lgbtq+ the best bets for you are Germany, Spain, Norway, Sweden. They all have same-sex marriage, adoptions and most of them allow gender self-identification. Italy is not safe for lgbtq+ people because we have no rights whatsoever. Civil unions are a lie.

All the countries I have mentioned should have a specific page on their government websites for immigrants to let them know the resources they provide for you and the documentation you need. Language courses are often offered as part of the immigration resources, but there are also plenty of schools and independent courses you can attend.

I hope everything doesn't go to shit. But in any case please ensure you have safety plans to move states or countries if you need to.

Renew your passport, gather all important documentations, save money for a quick getaway and contact the embassies of the countries you might want to move to.

Please all keep yourself and your loved ones safe.

Help each other, support each other, but at the end of the day everyone will fight for their own life. Senseless altruism will lead you to your grave. Don't lay down your life for a country that hated you since the moment you were born.

[pieflavorpie]

My unpopular opinion is that i dont enjoy bards Lament. At all. It is objectively good, well performed with appropriate buildup. However, I am a child with an absentee father, and i have had similar thoughts to him before, and i used to have a friend that went down his path. I have seen and experienced every point of view. And what that was isnt justice. Its not calling people out, or making them realise how they have hurt him.

Its a very broken, depressed man who finally snaps and burns down the bridges with his friends. No, VM never asked for Scanlan's mum's name because that's not something they do. If you can list me 5 times where the team ask questions about peoples backstory [before Bards Lament] BEFORE it became relevant, then you have successfully proved me wrong. Anything revealed is either probed out of them as part of recon, or willfully offered as a piece of friendship.

[E.g: Keyleth talking about her aramente, Pike's history with Grog vs Percy's backstory being revealed after they get invited to dinner with the Briarwoods and Grog talking about his pack when its revealed his uncle has the vestige.]

And he never offered any of this information. There have been several times where VM have shown concern and actively asked how hes doing just for him to lie and shrug them off. They prank him while he was asleep because they think hes a fairly centred person who will enjoy an attempt to bring things back to normal and they were drunk.

And yes, they are mean to him sometimes, because they are a group of assholes. They never disguise themselves as anything else. Vax and Percy's friendship post-briarwoods for a good while is based in distrust and self loathing, respectively. Everyone has moments where they say mean shit to Grog [except Pike] because he cant understand it.

And the "without his songs hes just a guy" comment or however it was phrased was a tactical comment. Because he would be. He doesn't have any sort of weapon beyond Mythcarver which he refuses to use, and he doesn't have anything else he can use to support or fight. The same applies to Keyleth without her nature magic, it applies to Percy without his guns, it applies to Grog when people are out of range.

And no, I don't blame him for snapping when he woke up. I doubt taking a -4 to any rolls made would translate to a Happy Peachy character in-story. And all of his internalised misery finally coalesces in his tiredness. But what happens isn't good. It isn't progress. It is showing everyone a wound that has been tearing open over months, and then promptly storming out.

And his whole "I didn't want my daughter to see me like this." Isn't some Grand Show of how much he cares, it shows him as fucking selfish. My dad being weak is what drove him away, his insecurity stopping him from getting help from my family. That line of thinking is what makes him a sad, lonely man rotting in a flat after abandoning many families like my own.

That man in real life was strong, a brilliant teacher of martial arts. A true marvel to see and train with. He had a certain charisma to him, but he had his shortcomings. And when his partner got too close to them, he'd hold them tight to his chest and scurry away, only coming back for the drunk sex and eventually leaving entirely. Having enough distrust in his heart to claim any unwanted children to be illegitimate.

Now, Scanlan is nowhere near as bad as him, but there are similarities. And enough that I feel my word has weight when I say, if I were Kaylie, I would not want to travel with him. If he truly wanted to be closer to her and do good for her, he'd get better first. And to get better, you need people. Plural. You cannot depend on one person. And that person can absolutely not be your own fucking child. I'm not saying he should've stayed with vox machina, but he should've stayed with a group. A group of adults that could support him. And honestly I feel like so far from my watching of CR, his epilogue with kaylie is the most unrealistic character development possible. I know she's supposed to be rough and hardy, but I refuse to believe that girl would not be breaking under her father's bleeding desperation for validation. And I definitely refuse to believe that she could actually help him to the point he'd gladly leave her on another continent while he talked to the people he'd snapped at.

Anyway, fuck dickhead dads who don't get actual help. Especially fuck them when they start depending on their children for them to be a good person.

For those who do not know. Scanlan's departure from the party in the stream wasn't as... friendly. It was kind of an ugly break-up. It came from Sam wanting to do some unexpected twist with Scanlan's character and it led to a very emotional moment. That he did not feel validated, that he did not feel appreciated and that he was considered a joke by the group.

And it came down to one phrase from Scanlan to the group: "What is my mother's name?" and when nobody was able to answer the question. Scanlan left.

However, interesting little tid-bit that might help understand this change. which comes from one of the Q&A. which is no longer up because... uhm... a whole other Drama I am not here to explain.

And what Sam said in that Q&A is that there WAS one way in which Scanlan would have stayed.

And it was Pike. who wasn't there at the time (technically was as an NPC, but since Ashley wasn't there, it's the same thing), but which Sam said was the only person who could change his decision.

And what has Pike done the entire season? BE that person who supported Scanlan in his darkest moment, and who deflated the situation probably without meaning to. And so he is able to leave the party in much better terms.

A shame because the emotional rollercoaster that it involved will be missed, but hey, it's cool to see what Sam meant by saying Pike was the one person who could stop Scanlan walking out of the party like he did

[queer-reader-07]

the first thing i did this morning was cry. cry because i saw a text from one of my closest friends telling me that i'm probably not ok but that she is here for me, even when she's 100 miles away.

i opened tumblr to see that @ineffablefood had dropped hugs in my ask box (thank you again for that one love)

i opened instagram to see friends raging and despairing but getting up to fight nonetheless.

i won't act like it's easy. i won't act like i don't feel rage and fear and utter sadness within me. but i cannot let it hinder me. i'll cry until my eyes run dry and i will get my ass up off the ground and keep fucking fighting. fighting for my friends and my family. for my trans friends in the south and my little cousins who deserve a better future.

hope is the greatest act of resistance. radical hope and LOVE sits at the core of my belief system. i will never let anyone take that from me.

i saw people reblogging my post on radical hope saying they "wish they could learn that power" and i want you to know that you can. i promise you from the bottom of my very soul that you can.

radical hope is work and it's hard fucking work at that. but it is the most powerful thing you can have. it will fuel you. it will be hold you up when you think you have no choice but to fall down. and they cannot take it from you.

keep fighting friends. keep living and keep finding joy and if nothing else survive your future with nothing but a hefty dose of spite and big ol "fuck you."