#anyways this scene has been loving in my head rent free | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

69% of Tumblr users are millennials.

#anyways this scene has been loving in my head rent free

biohazard-inevitable · 3 months

Text

You know what I’m also gonna post that Zosan fic on here cause its too fucking good not to anyways-

Why not let it be me?

Ao3 Link here

Rating: T

Zosan

Word count: 2530

Post thriller bark angst

It was quiet, for once. The boisterous cheering and singing dulled to a snoring lull as the drunk pirates had all collapsed for the night, practically sleeping on top of each other among the rubble of the great ship.

Sanji, however, was not as asleep as the rest. He couldn’t stop worrying.

Slowly, his feet shuffled towards the door of the makeshift infirmary, cautiously pushing the splintering oak forward with a groaning creak before slipping inside, wordlessly. His tired, sapphire eyes adjusted swiftly to the darkness, settling on the broken form of the swordsman on the bed, swaddled in bandages and gauze, a choked sound lodging in his throat like bile that refused to come out all the way, sour and vile.

“Oh marimo.” He whispered out softly with a sigh, having stubbed his usual cigarette out before entering as he quietly approached the bedside. “Will you wake up soon?”

Softly, he trailed his fingers down Zoro’s limp arm, tracing lazy circles along each wound as he knelt at the bedside, searching the man’s face for any sign of consciousness, though finding nothing but the soft rise and fall of his chest. Well, at least he was actually alive, that was a plus.

Sanji laid his head atop the mattress, his golden hair splaying across the sheets beside Zoro as he ran his knuckles along his body, carefully counting every dip and curve beneath the wrappings, noting how every abnormality was a new gash or broken bone. Tears welled in his eyes as pain tore its claws through his heart, pain and guilt that this should be him in the bed, it should be him laying like this, not the swordsman.

His mind swarmed with flashes of yesterday, of Kuma and his offer before Zoro had knocked him out, of the blurry pain that blossomed across the bruise now settled beneath his ribs matching the shape of Wado’s hilt, the wheezed protests before his body had crumpled to the ground, his vision fading to nothingness around him. Memories of the panic in his chest when he woke to find Zoro wasn’t there, the rush of adrenaline in his lungs as his legs pounded against earth in a desperate attempt to find him, only to come face to face with the disastrous aftermath, the cross-armed swordsman standing as still as a statue in a endless crimson pool of his own blood, waiting.

The way Zoro had looked at him in that moment, no rage or usual bickering to be had from Sanji’s quips and teases, just stern, hopeless determination as his shaking form barely opened its mouth to speak, replying to only one of Sanji’s hundreds of questions.

“N-nothing happened.” He had spoken, body crumpling into Sanji’s the moment the cook had touched him, as if he had been waiting to collapse the entire time, waiting for it to be safe enough to do so.

“Nothing happened.” Sanji muttered with a click of his tongue, fingertips curling into the sheets as he snapped back to the present. “Nothing happened my ass.”

There was no point in chewing him out right now, and Sanji doubted he could even hear him with how out of it he was. The blonde’s lingering grazes slid down Zoro’s arm towards where his palm lay limp on the mattress beside him, calloused fingertips facing upwards to allow easier bloodflow from the IV Chopper had hooked up.

He was beat beyond what any normal human would ever be able to survive. His beautiful, warm sun-touched skin now looked and felt unfathomably cold and grey, the only color of it being dark specks of clotting black and tarnished rust that was what was left of the blood he had been soaked in. His face seemed peaceful, and unmoving like a corpse, the though sending another pang through Sanji’s heart as his fingertips tightened into a sharp grasp around Zoro’s fingers, giving a gentle squeeze as he laid his head against the mattress beside the swordsman, his own heart thundering so loud in his chest that he could barely hear the murmur of the other’s, if it was even there at all.

“Sanji…” Came the soft, squeaky note fo concern from behind followed by the soft but familiar rattle of glass clinking together as the door creaked closed. “I thought I told you to stay out until he recovered, though I understand your concern.”

“Sorry, Chopper.” Sanji spoke, almost surprised at the broken crackle to his voice, his cheeks wet and puffy with the liquid that stung at his eyes, tears he wished never fell. “But I can’t leave him. What if… what if something happens in the night?”

“Sanji, thats why I’m here.” Chopper sighed, laying a hoof softly on the blone’s thigh. “To make sure nothing happens.”

“But what if it does?” Sanji gasped through a sniffle, his hand tightening around Zoro’s fingers as he watched the faint, but steady, rise and fall of the swordsman’s bandaged chest. “What if it does and he- Chopper… what if he doesn’t wake up?”

“Don’t say things like that!” The reindeer pleaded through tears of his own. “He won’t die, he’s stable. I’m monitoring him, but I promise you he won’t die! Although… I don’t know when he’ll wake up, but he will! I know he will.”

“He has to…” Sanji sighed, threading his fingers together with Zoro’s absently.

A pause fell through the air between the trio as the cook’s grip tightened, his other hand rising to run gentle minstrations theough Zoro’s fuzzy hair as he cradled his head like a lover.

“Sani, forgive me for asking but… are you and Zoro..?” Chopper began, unsure of how to explain what he knew he was seeing.

“Are we what?” Sanji hoarsed through a whisper, not taking his gaze off the swordsman’s resting face. “We’re friends, aren’t we? I mean, I know I fight with him a lot, but never seriously. I never wanted something like this to happen. Out of everyone… hes my best friend.”

“I see…” Chopper mused, biting his tongue from speaking the obvious as a long, tired sigh freed itself from his snout and he found himself padding over to the spare blankets. “In any case, you’ll catch a cold if you fall asleep without a blanket. I can’t let both of you fall ill! It’d be wrong of me as a doctor.”

“So you’ll let me stay?” Sanji sniffled, finally turning to look at the little reindeer as Chopper flung a soft, but tattered blanket over his shoulders.

“Of course.” Chopper nodded. “Just dont mess with any of the tubes, and I might wake you up to take his vitals throughout the night.”

“Thank you, Chopper.”

“Get some rest now, Sanji. You’re just as worn out.”

“I’ll sleep when he wakes.” Sanji grumbled, choosing instead to thumb across the swordsman’s knuckles with his soft, well cared for hands, ignoring the huff the doctor sighed as he put some used bottles onto his tray.

“Fine, but take care of yourself properly when you get a chance!” Chopper scolded lightly before exiting the room, leaving the two alone once more in favor of treating the others who were still quite injured.

Sanji hardly paid attention to when Chopper had left, instead choosing to sleepily bring Zoro’s limp hand to his lips, gently kissing over each knuckle like a silent prayer to whoever would listen, a prayer hoping that Zoro would wake from whatever battle still raged inside his mind.

“Come back, Zoro.” He murmured to himself, breath ghosting whispers of warmth over the mosshead’s hand and his eyelids feeling heavier and heavier the more he tried to force them open. “Come back to me. I don’t… I don’t know what to do without you. I love you.”

He didn’t know how long passed before sleep inevitably sunk its cold, callous claws into him, before his exhaustion ridden lashes shuttered his eyes to the world or before his stiffled sobs stuttered into a soft, sonorous snore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Zoro awoke on the early dawn of the third day, his whole body going rigid with the ever gnawing flames of agony that screamed through every fiber of his being, joints sore and bones aching while the stitches beneath his cause itched and stung like a thousand raging bees. Softly, he let out a long, dreary groan as his senses slowly came back to him.

After the fires of touch came the soft jingle of sound, the clinking of a stirring spoon against the edge of a bowl echoed from a table nearby while the faint scent of day-old secondhand smoke nipped at his nostrils. His eyes blinked open slowly, the crumbling ceiling coming into focus before him while his tongue smacked at the bitter taste of old iron at the back of his cotton-dry mouth.

As the swordsman tried to move into a lazy turn, a thousand spikes of pain roared up his spine, sending a soft hiss out from his teeth as the soft sheets underneath him shifted and he came face to face with a sleepy blonde head lain right beside him, a pair of undeniably curly eyebrows in plain view.

“Cook..?” He hoarsed, voice feeling entirely unlike his own as he spoke it, realizing the soft sensation caressing his fingertips was that of the plump, glossy lips pressed against his knuckles, a hint of drool pooling at the edge while those flawless, slender fingertips coiled loosely around his hand.

“Zoro!” Came the soft, whisper-yell from behind, the tinkling of the metal now ceased entirely as soft hoofbeats padded towards him. “You’re awake!!”

“Chopper…?” Zoro spoke with a groan as he glanced towards the reindeer, eyes wincing at the brightness of the lamp. “Good to see you’re alright… what about everyone else? Luffy! Is he?”

“Of course you’d be worried about that! He’s more than okay.” Chopper chuckled softly, motioning for Zoro to quiet down his excitement before gesturing to Sanji’s sleeping form. “You were the one we were most worried about.”

“Even dart-brow was worried?” Zoro grunted, maneuvering more to lay his head closer to the cook’s, admiring every little spiral his golden hair made on the mattress as he gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Hard to believe he of all people would be worried about me.”

“I don’t know what happened back there… but it really messed with Sanji.” Chopper admitted quietly. “I’ve never seen him cry so much before.”

“He cried..?”

Oh… now that took Zoro by surprise, but he could see it now. The faint, puffy redness around his eyes, the salty crust that clung to his lashes, the phantom rivers carved into the rosy hills of his cheeks. The way his grip had clearly been so tight before he went limp with slumber, the soft stain on the mattress beneath his face. Had the swordsman’s state really done all of this to a chef who claimed to despise him?

“I don’t think he thought anyone noticed… so I wouldn’t bring it up. I don’t need you getting into a fight for at least another few weeks! Maybe months with how badly you’re hurt!”

“Mh… nah I’ll be fine by tomorrow.” Zoro huffed before rolling back into position with a slight wince, absently thumbing over the cook’s knuckles as he got comfortable again.

“Zoro!” Chopper scolded, droning on and on about the importance of resting and the severity of his injuries, but Zoro was more consumed by the thoughts that the one he woke up to see first was Sanji of all people.

The lovestruck blonde who called the swordsman a plethora of profanities and the most degrading of insults, who would happily throw his leg up in deranged attacks while growling professions of hatred, the same cook that was now curled up on his knees at his bedside, brows crumpled with worry and cheeks stained with the salt of his tears. Surely, on top of all that, the gentle lips pressed to his knuckle had to be a coincidence, right? Surely, of all people, the cook didn’t like him like that, did he?

Surely Sanji didn’t love him back.

“Chopper…” Came the sluggish, dreary yawn from between the two, interrupting the doctor’s rant. “Quiet down… its hardly even dawn and I don’t have to make breakfast for a while longer… what the hell has got you so worked up?”

“Well, now that sunshine here is finally up, I might be able to get my hand back.” Zoro joked with a low, tremor of a chuckle, drawing that blurry blue gaze upwards until Sanji’s eyes shot open and he was yanked to attention.

“Zoro!” He exclaimed, those bubbly tears welling up again as he stumbled to his feet. “Fuck- Zoro you’re awake! You’re alive!”

“Course I am curls.” Zoro winced at the sudden uproar of worry that came from the blonde, a soft annoyed scowl darting across his face as he slapped a hand over Sanji’s babbling mouth. “Now can it! You’re too loud for how fucking early it is.”

The swordsman half excepted that small gesture to send Sanji into one of his usual upity rants, legs flying and swears spewing from his mouth, so when it didnt come, Zoro wasn’t sure why.

Instead, the cook’s soft, supple hands reached up to tenderly grip around Zoro’s wrist, watery eyes averting themself from the swordsman in favor of the ground as he slowly pulled the hand away from his mouth, letting the fingers lazily drag against his plush lips if only for the briefest moment.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” The blonde apologized, really catching Zoro off guard. “I shouldn’t be so loud. I just- look, everyone was really worried about you and Luffy wouldn’t be the same if you died and so I of course had to make sure you didn’t leave us all behind! You have a job on this ship wether you like it or not and I sure as hell am not gonna let you throw it all away for nothing! Zoro, I-“

I care about you.

I couldn’t live without you.

I can’t see you die when I’ve only begun to want to live.

I love you.

All unspoken against Sanji’s lips as his confession died in his throat, unable to admit the truth tearing its claws through his heart, unable to admit that for once, his love was a man. A man he’d sworn he hated, a man he refused to bend to, a man that had nearly died in his arms protecting him, a man that was his everything.

“You… what?” Zoro urged, steely gaze locked in on the chef’s figety fingers, his teary lashes and the worried quirk in his brow.

“I need a smoke.” Sanji sighed bluntly, releasing Zoro’s hand from his grip, decidedly unready to say how he truly felt. “And to get breakfast ready. Come by later when Chopper is done checking up on you, alright?”

“Yeah…” Zoro sighed in response, watching as the chef left for the doorway. “Alright.”

So much for thinking Sanji liked him more than just a rival, Zoro mused to himself.

How stupid could he be thinking it was anything else?

#one piece #roronoa zoro #sanji #zosan #zosan fic #zosan angst fic #zosan thriller bark #thriller bark #post thriller bark #tony tony chopper #black leg sanji #THEY FINALLY IMPLIMENTED THE READ MORE FOR MOBILE HALLELUJAH #zayne’s writing #anyways this scene has been loving in my head rent free

48 notes · View notes

starlightkun · 7 months

Text

➠ word count: 22.0k ➠ warnings: cursing, mentions of drinking (there’s a frat party), everything i know about hockey is from internet research for this fic i’m sorry for any inaccuracies i tried ➠ genre: fluff, gets quite suggestive (a heavy makeout scene/near sex scene) but no actual smut, college au, hockey captain sungchan, chronically ill reader (chronic migraines), halloween-themed at the beginning, sungchan’s not a frat boy but he’s like... a frat boy by association ➠ extra info: the ages/relative ages of the members in here are whatever i want them to be, don’t read into it too much. this is a very usamerican take on a college au btw. also i call kunhang ‘hendery’ in here like it’s his government name for a one-line gag bc i think i’m hilarious the reader in this has chronic migraines, which i have. when the reader’s migraines and thoughts/experiences as a chronically ill person are described, that is me writing directly from my own life. i am not generalizing the lives of all people with chronic migraines and chronic illness, but i am sending all my love to any readers out there living with a chronic illness, and here’s a reminder to go take your meds ➠ author’s note: hi so this has been a wip for like a year lol. this one long predates sungchan’s deneofication (and subsequent re-debut in riize), hockey player sungchan just lives in my brain rent free ok. anyway, i hope you like ➠ series masterlist

“You agreed to go to a frat party?” Chenle’s eyes were bugging out of his head as he sat across a high top in the dining hall from you. “Do you remember what happened last time, Y/N?”

“Hard to forget,” you snorted.

“And yet it seems you did, somehow, lost in dreamboat Jung Sungchan’s eyes.”

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 24

“Now shoo!” Dr. Son waved the small group of you out of his dimly lit office.

It was Phantasmagorical Phriday, a time-honored tradition going back to your freshman year of university. Dr. Son had been intrigued by the four freshmen who were somehow in his third-year class on Gothic Fiction and actually seemed to “get it.” His “Phantasma Phour” as you dubbed yourselves (a nickname that got quickly worn out, persisting only as the title of your groupchat):

Wong Hendery, who ended up in the class accidentally due to an error on his academic advisor’s part (she had gotten him mixed up with a Wong Henry, a junior Literature major who actually needed to take Dr. Son’s class) and he subsequently changed majors at least three times to your knowledge, so you were genuinely surprised he was graduating on time—he finally settled on Communications;

Jung Sungchan, at the time a promising young rookie hockey player who had now blossomed into your school’s reliable team captain—Biology major, being an athlete meant he could pre-register for classes and he picked Dr. Son’s at random to fulfill a gen ed Literature credit;

Zhong Chenle, an honorary member of both Nu Chi Tau, one of the biggest frats on campus, and the hockey team, as somehow 95% of his social circle were Nu Chi brothers and/or hockey players despite Chenle being neither himself, your best friend and also sometimes you swear a demon sent straight from hell to kill you—Literature major, who bullied you into taking the class; and

You, Chenle’s best friend who used to hate anything and everything Gothic fiction that got bullied into taking it anyway and now adored the genre more than any other—Literature major, who took the last spot in the class on registration day.

Dr. Son would invite you all to monthly extracurricular workshops in his office that built up to this: Phantasmagorical Phriday, a writing competition to see which of the four of you could write the best gothic short story. The stories were actually submitted the prior week, but it was the Friday before Halloween that was dubbed the Phriday in question. The four of you were invited to his office that night after classes (and Sungchan’s hockey practice) to review your pieces: how he thought everyone had improved from last year, discuss the writing process, and to finish off the night, Dr. Son would announce his top two stories. Those in the top two had the chance to send him a persuasive letter about why they should win. They had to be sent to him that night because the next morning, your professor would email the top two individually with the results.

Since this was your last Phantasmagorical Phriday, Dr. Son pretended not to see when Hendery brought out four celebratory White Claws for you all. You still had your warm, unopened, orange-flavored seltzer in your hand as the small group of you left the Literature, Writing, and Foreign Languages building together.

“I still can’t believe you couldn’t find anything classier for our last Phantasmagorical Phriday, Hendery.” You shook your head. “Ever heard of champagne? Literally any wine?”

“So you’re not gonna shotgun that, Y/N, is what I’m hearing?” Hendery teased as you all stopped under the light post right outside the building.

“Is that a challenge or what, Wong?” You scoffed, handing it back to him. “But no, I’m good.”

Sungchan thankfully cut in and changed the topic of conversation, “So are you going to start writing your letter of reconsideration, Y/N?”

This year’s top two were you and Sungchan, the member of the Phantasma Phour you spoke to the least. Outside of the monthly “workshops” (which at this point with your differing majors were just get-togethers of questionable academic value), you never saw him. You obviously saw Chenle all the time, and despite the fact that you considered him a bit obnoxious, you were sort of friends with Hendery, joining him for lunch if you happened to see him at the student union or at the coffee shop on campus. Sungchan was perfectly nice and all, you just found that you never really talked to him like the other two.

You looked down at your watch, taking a quick inhale when you saw the time. You’d stayed in Dr. Son’s office a lot later than you’d realized.

“Oh, no,” you casually waved off Sungchan’s question, readjusting your tote bag on your shoulder. “I’ve got something more pressing right now. Anyway, see you guys. It was a good four years, I’m glad we got to do this.”

Lifting your hand in a wave of finality to the three men, you departed.

“She’s really not going to submit a letter?” Sungchan asked, still watching after you as your figure faded away in the distance.

“Nope,” Chenle shook his head, reaching for the spare White Claw in Hendery’s hand. “Y/N never does.”

“You didn’t know that?” Hendery questioned the hockey player, holding the drink away from Chenle.

“Why not?”

“She’s not in it to win really.” Chenle lunged for the can as Hendery jerked it away at the last second. “Just wants to make stuff.”

“So she was lying about doing something?”

Hendery and Chenle were now running circles around Sungchan in their game of keep-away with the seltzer.

“No.”

“What do you—” Sungchan sighed, yanking the drink from Hendery’s grasp and holding it high above his own head, well out of either of their reaches. “Hey!”

Now with their attention, the hockey captain kept his arm straight up as he returned to his question, “What are you talking about, Chenle?”

“Y/N does have something pressing right now. If I tell you where she’s probably going will you give me the White Claw?” Chenle bargained.

“You’d exchange your best friend’s location for an orange White Claw? Not even watermelon?” Hendery asked incredulously.

“It’s Sungchan, someone we’ve known for like four years, not some creep off the street who’s going to wear her skin.”

“No, Chenle, you don’t have to tell me that,” Sungchan shook his head, offering the can out for either one to take.

The Literature major was able to snatch it first, jumping up in celebration, “Suck an egg, Hendery!”

“I wouldn’t—” Sungchan’s words were too late though, as Chenle had already popped the tab, and the overly-shaken seltzer exploded all over all three of them.

“Zhong Chenle, I’m going to strangle you, you little weasel!”

“Ah! Sungchan, save me!”

“I would, except you got fucking orange White Claw in my eyes and I’m fucking blind now! Goddamn!”

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 25

Rolling over in bed the next morning, you let out a big sigh and buried your face in your pillow, fully intent on going back to sleep. Saturday morning. No school, no work. Just you, your bed, and some much-needed sleep.

Then, the obnoxious blaring of your phone came from your nightstand. You groaned, reaching blindly for the object, and barely opening one eye just enough to snooze it. Damn, you really had slept in, to be woken up by your first medication alarm. Well, you weren’t going to die if you took your morning doses fifteen minutes later than normal. You were about to stuff your phone under your pillow when you briefly caught sight of your lockscreen after the alarm disappeared.

Text notification from Jung Sungchan?

Flopping onto your back and bringing your phone with you, you squinted against the harsh light of your screen to make sure you were reading that right. Yep, Sungchan had definitely texted you a few hours ago, separate from the Phantasma Phour chat. At almost 7:00 a.m., too. What the hell?

Curiosity won out over a need to sleep for fourteen more minutes, and you opened the notification.

[jung sungchan: Congrats, Y/N!]

You stared blankly at the text, your groggy mind desperately grasping around for any sort of context as to why Jung Sungchan would be texting you that at 7:00 a.m. on a Saturday. Then it struck you like lightning, and you let out an audible “Oh, duh!” as you remembered where you both were last night. Phantasmagorical Phriday. The writing contest. You and Sungchan were the top two. Dr. Son must have sent the email out already, and apparently you had won.

Normally, you wouldn’t check your school email on the weekend until Sunday night, unless you were waiting to hear back from a specific professor—and the Sunday night check was just to see if any of your Monday classes were cancelled. Lord knows you definitely wouldn’t have checked it at seven in the morning on a Saturday. You let out a snort of disbelief as you reread the timestamp on the text. But still, it was nice of him. A good show of sportsmanship, as one would expect from the hockey captain.

You quickly checked your own student email, and did in fact see an email from Dr. Son at the very top with the subject ‘PHINAL PHANTASMAGORICAL PHRIDAY RESULTS.’

‘Y/N and Sungchan:

Thank you again for your submissions. I enjoyed working with everyone these four years.

The winner this year is Y/N. Good job.

Dr. Son.’

An amused smile crept across your face at your professor’s usual blunt email style. But this was also some of the nicest feedback he’d given your writing, even when you had won Phantasmagorical Phriday in the past, or in classes that you’d taken from him over the years. Something about it truly did feel... final.

And so with an odd bittersweetness, you drafted an equally short and blunt email back to your professor.

‘Dr. Son:

Thank you for taking us on these past four years. I will never forget the experience.

Y/L/N Y/N.’

Then finally, you went back to the original reason that you were even doing this.

[you: thanks, sungchan!]

Then, your alarm went off again, making you jump out of your skin. Well, time for your morning meds.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 27

A tall figure was nearing the corner table you had claimed in one of the campus coffee shops the following Monday afternoon, and you looked up from your laptop screen, a little surprised at who it was. Jung Sungchan was standing at the end of your table, black flannel over a graphic t-shirt and dark wash jeans, one backpack strap slung over his shoulder. He had an iced coffee in one hand.

You paused the movie playing on your laptop, taking out both your headphones as you looked up at him inquisitively, “Uh hi, Sungchan.”

“Hi, Y/N.”

“Are you here to study or something?”

“Mm.” He couldn’t seem to meet your eyes. “Not really. Just grabbing a coffee and saw you. Do you mind if I sit with you for a bit?”

“Oh, sure. I’m waiting out the storm to leave,” you gestured to the near-constant downpour that had started right after you’d arrived over two hours ago. Noticing that some of Sungchan’s hair and shoulders were damp, you added, “The storm you apparently got caught in without an umbrella.”

“Oh, yeah,” he ran a hand through his hair to push some of it away from where it had been falling into his eyes.

“I don’t mind having some company while I wait.”

To your surprise, instead of sitting across from you, Sungchan plopped himself onto the same bench that you were on, one leg slung over either side so he could face you directly.

You picked up the mug in front of you, your second cup of your drink of choice. You’d gotten a refill after it became clear that the rain wasn’t letting up any time soon. Sungchan was already a third of the way done with his iced coffee as you blew over your hot drink before taking a small sip. He glanced up at you, and you felt like you were going to choke on the uncomfortable silence. So you took a gamble. Turning in your seat to face him as well, you hiked a knee up onto the bench, bringing your mug with you.

“Do you want to ask me something, Sungchan?”

The hockey player startled, having to catch himself from nearly choking on his coffee. Seems like you were right. Sungchan finally stopped sucking down his drink, setting it down on the table and wiping his palms on the knees of his jeans. “I heard that you never sent in a letter to Dr. Son. Any year you were a top two.”

“Oh, yeah, nah.”

“Why not?”

“Didn’t seem worth it,” you shrugged.

“What?”

“Every year I participated I wanted my work to stand on its own two legs. After the death of the author, that’s all that’s left, right? The work. It has to speak for itself.”

“Oh,” Sungchan nodded, then squinted his eyes, confusion entirely overtaking his features. “Wait, what?”

“Sorry, I don’t know how much Lit Theory you’ve done. Probably not a lot as a Bio major, huh? Death of the author is both literal and metaphorical. Removing what the author meant to do or say with a text from how you actually interpret the text as the reader. It’s a lot easier when they’re actually dead, but the abstract concept is practiced when they’re alive too. It’s… seeing the text as separate from authorial intent. Mind you, it’s only one tool in a literary critic’s arsenal, but I liked it for our Gothic fiction class. All the authors we read in that class, they’d been gone for a while, we had no way to know what they really meant when they wrote all that stuff. And it didn’t really matter for our purposes. All we did have was what they wrote, and that was enough for me. So the same should be enough for whoever reads the stuff I write. Even if it’s just Dr. Son.”

“Huh.”

“Though I guess I just explained myself a little, oops,” you laughed at yourself, taking another sip from your steaming mug. “I’m getting less and less mysterious by the second, aren't I?”

“Chenle made it sound like you didn’t care about winning,” Sungchan asked, cheek in hand.

You arched an eyebrow at this. “You asked Chenle about me?”

“W-Well you left so fast after we saw Dr. Son, and you two are you know...”

“Oh he’s my best friend,” you clarified for perhaps the ten-thousandth time in your life. “And while others may use any litany of swears for him and Hendery calls him a little weasel, I prefer ‘actual demon sent from Hell to kill me.’”

“What?” Sungchan’s eyes widened.

“He pushes me out of my comfort zone. In a good way, most of the time.”

“Got it. Then what do you do for him? If he’s your yang…”

“I’m entertainment?” You snorted, taking another sip of your drink. After setting it back down, you answered more sincerely, “I’m kidding. Sometimes it feels like that but I did ask him one time a couple years ago, when he was tipsy enough that I believed the words coming out of his mouth but not so drunk that it was unintelligible. ‘A safe place.’ And since then… I can see it in us. That’s my yin to him.”

He smiled softly at you. “That’s... really nice.”

“Sorry, what were you asking me before that?”

“Oh, uh— Chenle said you really didn’t care about winning Dr. Son’s contest, you just wanted to make stuff? That’s why you didn’t submit a letter.”

“Generally, sure. Winning would’ve been great, but I didn’t write what I thought Dr. Son wanted. I took all of his feedback with a grain of salt. Took stuff that I liked from him, took stuff I liked from other profs I had. Mixed and matched to make something that was mine.” You pressed your lips together, then leaned forward like you were about to tell him a secret, “I didn’t live for Phantasmagorical Phriday, Sungchan. You do know that, right?”

“Wow,” he blinked, seeming a bit disoriented. “I’ve never really thought about… you like that.”

“Well to be fair to you, you only ever knew me there and in Dr. Son’s class. Makes it hard not to think of me only through that lens. All you know about me is that I presumably like Gothic fiction and I’m a Lit major, right?”

“Right.”

“So what do you think I was doing here before you showed up?”

“…Reading Edgar Allan Poe.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, turning your laptop screen to show the paused movie to him, “I was watching Pacific Rim.”

His jaw literally dropped, and you felt the need to save him at least a little. Grabbing a book from your bag, you held it up, “I did come here initially to finish reading this new mystery novel I just got, but then the storm came and I had nothing else to do after I was done with the book.”

“But still… you’re so…”

“I have interests outside the one class we took together?”

“Smart,” he finished, an absolutely adorable expression of wonder across his face.

You weren’t expecting that, surprised giggles bubbling up out of you as you felt yourself growing warm under his awestruck gaze.

“Anyway, your turn,” you tapped his knee with your book before putting it back in your bag.

“For what?”

“To expand my horizons of you. All I know about you is that you’re the hockey captain, and a Bio major who took a gothic fiction class one time like three years ago. Show me you’re a multifaceted individual, too.”

“Uhm, that’s about it.”

“Oh come on, Sungchan.”

“No really, if I’m not on the ice, I’m in class; if I’m not in class, I’m with my team; and if I’m not with my team, I’m studying.”

“You’re here, right now,” you pointed out. “Last I checked I’m not on your hockey team, and we’re not studying. You have to do one thing that’s not for school or hockey. My thing was just watching Pacific Rim this one time, remember?”

“Alright…” he paused to think, fingers tapping along his thighs. “I used to play the piano.”

“Past tense, but I’ll accept it. When did you stop?”

“High school? Around when piano lessons and hockey practice started conflicting.”

“And you chose hockey?” You asked, hoping it didn’t sound judgmental. You really were just curious, trying to understand him.

“Actually, the choice was made for me.” He held his right hand out in front of you, and it was then that you saw his pinky finger was unnaturally crooked as he pointed to the digit. “I broke it in a game without even realizing it. Bruises and stiffness sometimes are normal so me and my parents didn’t know anything was up until weeks later when I was fucking up all the notes at my piano lessons because it still hurt. By the time I finally saw a doctor and got a splint on it, it set up wrong. All dexterity for piano out the window. Hockey on the other hand… guys have done a lot more with a lot less.”

You couldn’t help but curiously run a gentle fingertip over the crook in his pinky. “Does it hurt at all? Now?”

“Not really.” He went to bend and flex the fingers of his right hand, and you saw how the fifth finger didn’t curl up as much as the others. “It’s just a lot stiffer. Doesn’t bother me all that much.”

He brought his left hand up and wiggled the fingers on that hand. “Besides, I’m a lefty anyway.”

“So—apologies if this sounds like a stupid question to you, I don’t know anything about hockey—are there like, different hockey sticks for left-handed and right-handed players?”

Sungchan immediately broke into snickers, and you set down your mug to cross your arms over your chest indignantly.

“Hey, I didn’t laugh at you for not knowing what death of the author was—”

“I wasn’t making fun of you, I’m sorry,” he covered his mouth. “That was just… too cute. Uhm yes, there are lefty and righty sticks.”

You had to bite down your bottom lip to not smile at him calling you cute, and instead keep up your ruse of being offended. “I feel patronized.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” There was still a hint of a giggle in his tone, and you felt your self-righteous façade slip away as he continued, “You should come to a game, then, if you really want to broaden your horizons. The season just started. First home game is this Thursday, actually. 7:00 p.m. and students get free admission with your student ID.”

“Thursday?”

“Fridays are for basketball, Saturdays are for football.”

“Oh. Right.”

“You don’t go to those games either, do you?”

“Oh no, did I make it obvious?” You asked sarcastically.

“A bit,” Sungchan jested back.

Outside the window visible past Sungchan, the rain had let up a few minutes ago, and you briefly glanced over at your laptop for the time. Shit, your next alarm was going to be going off soon. If you left now, you should be home at roughly the right time for your next dose.

Clicking your tongue, you started packing up your things, “Well, looks like the rain’s finally let up enough to allow me safe passage. That’s my cue.”

“Oh.” The hockey player with you looked over his shoulder at the newly sunny day outside before turning back to watch you put your things away.

“Are you heading out too?” You nodded to his empty cup.

“I’ve uh, got some homework to do.”

“Guess this is where we part ways then.”

“Um, you didn’t say if you were going. To the game.”

You tucked your chin to your chest to hide your smitten smile as you put your laptop in your bag. Typically just asking for the details would’ve been taken for a yes, but Sungchan wanted extra confirmation. This boy wasn’t good for your heart, truly.

Turning back to him, you gave him a firm and nearly business-like nod. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

A bright grin lit up his features. “Okay! Great! Uhm, feel free to bring some friends, I know just sitting in the stands by yourself might be lonely.”

“I’ll see if I can drag somebody else out. It’ll be a tall order, though. Literature majors, you know, we prefer our Shakesperean poetry readings.”

“Oh, well—”

“I’m kidding,” you laughed and stood then, slinging your tote onto your shoulder. “Honestly, have you seen Chenle at a rager? Boy can drink twice his body weight I swear. He shouldn’t, but he can.”

Before you could reach for your cup and saucer to buss your place, the hockey captain spoke up, “I’ll take care of your mug, don’t worry.”

“Oh, thanks, Sungchan! I’ll see you Thursday then.”

“Bye…” Sungchan trailed off, watching the door long after it had closed behind you.

He didn’t actually have any homework to do, and scrolled on his phone for a few minutes to make sure you were out of the area before leaving himself. He grabbed his long-empty plastic cup and your mug. His went in the trash, and as he went to put yours up with the other dishes and trays, his eyes were caught by the iridescent glitters left behind on the rim by your lip gloss.

[you: hey what are you doing thursday at 7:00?]

[chenle: depends on what weird poetry reading you’re trying to drag me to]

[you: not this time. Sungchan’s hockey game?]

[chenle: you want to go to a sporting event?? why????]

[you: i told him i’d go please don’t make me go by myself]

[chenle: did you offer to go or did he ask you to come?]

[you: he asked me to? i guess?]

[chenle: haha yeah fuck no i’m not going with you]

[you: why not????????]

[chenle: a guy invited you to one of his games? yeah no way am i coming with you]

[you: what difference does that make? you’re seriously going to make me go to a hockey game by myself?]

[chenle: i don’t know how to tell you this gently so: he wants to fuck you]

[you: bro???]

[chenle: especially hockey? caveman brain is activated, he wants to show off how big and strong he is for you over the other males]

[you: damn can’t believe i just blinked and woke up in 200 BC]

[chenle: i’m warning you, only go if you’re ready for the consequences. i.e., that]

[you: so you’re not coming with me]

[chenle: no <3]

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 30

Your chronically early self had gotten there as soon as the doors opened to spectators in order to scope out the perfect spot for yourself. Somewhere not too close to any speakers, where you could still see what was going on, hopefully somewhere Sungchan could maybe see you, but you could make a quick escape if need be. A lot of parameters, hence the need to be early. That meant that you got to watch the visiting team warm up first, and now your school’s team was warming up before the game. Finally the stands started filling up, and you had to do a double-take at the newest figure entering.

“Zhong Chenle, you lying little bitch!” You cursed out your best friend who was approaching you.

He immediately went to defend himself as he plopped down beside you, “Look, I told you I wasn’t going with you, not that I wasn’t going at all. Come on, Lit major.”

He finished off with a solid knock on your head, which didn’t hurt all that much through the beanie you were wearing, but you still slapped his arm away with a glare.

“Are you sure you want to live until graduation day? I can’t tell sometimes.”

“Half the team are Nu Chi guys,” Chenle explained his being there, then waved at one of the players skating by, 23, who gave a salute back. “Jeno.”

“Oh.” You belatedly waved too, but your friend had already turned back to warming up.

Chenle then gave you the run-down on all your friends and acquaintances’ numbers as he spotted them.

“Goalie. Sicheng, 7.” He just blocked a shot from a familiar number, 23. “Already told you, 23 is Jeno. Right wing.”

“Does he always suck?”

“Here’s Ten, number 10. Right defense. He’s never told me which came first, his nickname or his jersey number.”

Sicheng blocked Ten’s shot.

“2 is Mark, center.” His went in.

“66, Donghyuck, center alternate.” His also went in.

“24, that’s Yangyang, left wing—and a miss!”

“This doesn’t bode well that so many of our players apparently kind of suck.” You muttered to yourself, well aware that Chenle was no longer listening to you.

Finally, the tallest of the team was skating up to take a shot. “And there’s your guy, Y/N. Number 27, Jung Sungchan, left defense, captain, your dreamboat—”

“If you don’t shut up—”

“Oh! All net!”

“Isn’t that a basketball—”

“Hey, you got your earplugs, right?”

“Yep, same ones for concerts,” you confirmed, reaching into your purse for them. You hadn’t been able to take your full tote bag into the school sporting event, so you had to condense the essentials into your smaller purse.

“Good, because uh, it’ll get loud.”

“I figured.”

“Yeah, remember how half the team are Nu Chi guys?”

Your eyes widened in realization, “Oh god.”

“Here they come!”

Whipping around to face the same direction he was looking, you saw a horde of about ten to fifteen guys storming the rink, practically shaking the audience section. They were all donned in blue and orange, your university’s colors, various hockey or Nu Chi merch and paraphernalia, and you would’ve absolutely bet money that at least three of them had Nu, Chi, and Tau symbols painted across each of their chests under their shirts. Chenle leapt up to greet them all, the volume of the area immediately rising tenfold at least.

You recognized most of the Nu Chi frat brothers, they were mutual friends or acquaintances of yours through Chenle over the years, and there were even some familiar graduated faces. Lee Taeyong was the first to pick up on your presence, squeezing past Jisung—a new pledge that had glommed onto Chenle in particular—to plop down behind your seat.

“What are you doing here, Y/N?” Taeyong asked you with a tilted head. “Not exactly a good place for you, is it?”

Taeyong was frat president for your first two years of college and his last two. You had an absolute disaster at a Nu Chi party in your freshman year that he was witness to. Ever since then, when you would see him in passing at other lowkey (or as lowkey as frat functions could get) Nu Chi events that Chenle took you to during those two years, you always got the distinct impression that he was keeping an eye on you during them.

“Could be asking you the same thing, Taeyong,” you countered, fully turning around in your seat to chat with the man. “Didn’t you graduate two years ago? You don’t have anything better to do on a Thursday night? Like your taxes or something?”

“Us old-timers who peaked in college like to come back and re-live our glory days vicariously for the first home game,” he entertained your jibe, making you giggle. “And somebody’s got to be these kids’ DD. They always go at it too hard after the first game. Win or lose.”

Johnny, another graduated Nu Chi brother, spoke up then, eyes laser-focused on you, “So Chenle’s finally dragged you out to a game, Y/N?”

You immediately looked at your friend with wide eyes, knowing what the answer was, and exactly what reaction said answer would garner. Chenle, on the other hand, seemed all too thrilled to join in, turning to face you with his hands on his hips and a knowing smirk on his face.

“Oh no, I didn’t bring Y/N. She actually didn’t know I was coming at all. I found her here all on her own,” he announced to all the guys, who were hanging on to every word he said. If literally anything else were happening, you might’ve laughed at how they were all wrapped around his finger.

“No offense, but you don’t really seem like you’re interested in hockey,” Jungwoo, a junior who you’d shared a couple literature classes with, said curiously.

You sighed, giving Chenle a frank look before admitting, “Jung Sungchan invited me.”

They exploded with various hoots, hollers, whoops, and whistles.

With a shake of your head, you turned back around to look back at the players on the ice, knowing full well that there was nothing you could do alleviate—or even really participate in—the absolute chaos that was happening behind you.

Eventually, the game started. Taeyong, who had moved to sit on your other side from Chenle, quietly explained the basics of what was going on to you: positions, plays, scoring, why the referee made certain calls. Chenle was caught between cheering along with the other Nu Chi guys and rattling off hyper-specific stats on individual players to you, so you were truly grateful to have Taeyong giving you your “hockey for dummies” tips and tidbits throughout.

You kept your eyes on number 27, as Chenle had pointed him out to you earlier. The gear made it somewhat difficult for you to really recognize any distinguishing features about Sungchan himself except maybe his height, made even greater by the skates he was wearing. But as much as the intellectual side of you might’ve hated to admit it, there was definitely some part of you that very much enjoyed watching him play; that got some kind of thrill every time somebody tried to check him and he didn’t budge—or when he checked somebody and they most definitely did budge.

Before you knew it, all three periods were over, and you were jumping to your feet along with the others, cheering wildly. Your school won by a landslide.

“Oh, they’re going to get plastered,” Taeyong murmured from beside you fondly.

All of you had been in the cheering section milled around in the ice rink lobby waiting for the team to get out of the locker room.

“That was fun,” you declared to Chenle as the two of you stood off to the side from the larger group of loud Nu Chi brothers.

“Yeah, you didn’t seem like you were listening to a word I said.”

“Because you were telling me sports stats, Chenle, I’m surprised my brain didn’t start bleeding out of my ears.”

“Well I’m surprised your nose wasn’t bleeding watching your dreamboat Jung Sungchan beat up all those other guys,” Chenle teased. “200 BC called, they want their cavewoman back—”

You lunged at him, managing to get an arm around his throat in the beginnings of a questionably friendly chokehold, “I’m going to kill you, you little—”

“No murder in the rink!” Came the chastising voice of Johnny Suh from afar, and you reluctantly let him go.

The players started streaming out of the locker room soon after, and you nervously scanned the crowd for Sungchan. Chenle was easily dragged into the chaos of everyone celebrating, leaving you standing off to the side waiting.

Finally, you spotted him. Sungchan was wearing a simple pair of black sweatpants and black hoodie with your school’s name embroidered across the front, his hair a bit mussed up. He was deep in conversation with Sicheng, brow furrowed. The goalie’s features were similarly serious as they gestured to each other. You stayed put, not wanting to interrupt. Taeyong had mentioned that Sicheng was sort of like a co-captain, you guessed they might be doing something important.

Then you’d suddenly made eye contact with Sicheng, who was facing you. He gave you a casual head nod, and said something to Sungchan you couldn’t quite make out. The captain whipped around, a bright smile coming to his face as soon as his eyes landed on you. You lifted your hand to give him a small wave and smile back.

Sungchan quickly ended his conversation with Sicheng, making his way over to where you were standing by a wall.

“Hey, Y/N,” he was still smiling down at you, his eyes practically glittering even in the harsh fluorescents of the lobby. “So you really made it out.”

“I said I would.” You fidgeted with the straps of your bag.

“And…?”

You tilted your head, “And?”

“What did you think? You know, are your horizons super broad now or something?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. His phrasing was funny, but also remembering how he played and was now giving you his undivided attention admittedly made your chest flutter.

“It was good, yeah. I had fun,” you confirmed. “You uhm, you played really good. I think.”

“Thanks,” Sungchan scratched at the back of his neck, and you swore the tips of his ears were pink, but that could’ve just been the cold. “Did you drive yourself?”

“Walked, my apartment is close.”

“Uh, so, we all go out to a bar after games usually. It’s kind of a sleazy dive bar, and I know it’s a Thursday, but I’d really like for you to come. I’ll buy you a dr—”

“I’m really sorry, Sungchan, but I can’t. I’d love to, but…” You trailed off, wracking your brain for some concise way to explain why he couldn’t buy you a drink.

“Don’t worry, it’s okay,” Sungchan assured you, and you winced at the way the hopeful smile fell from his face.

An awkward silence descended over the two of you. You were chewing on your bottom lip, desperately trying to think of something to say to gloss over your rejecting his offer. You didn’t want to end the conversation on such a sour note, nor did you want to leave him just yet either. Stealing a glance at the clock above you on the wall, however, you knew that you’d need to be going soon anyway.

The hockey player was the one who ended up breaking the silence, “Can I walk you home? It’s late for you to be out by yourself.”

A relieved smile overtook your features, and you hoped he could see the sincerity in it, “Sure, thank you. Let me let Chenle know he’s relieved of his man-shaped friend duties for the night, and we can go.”

You got on your tiptoes to look around for your friend, finally spotting him in a headlock by Jeno, with Yangyang giving him a noogie. They all seemed to be laughing, so it didn’t look too much like bullying that you felt the need to intervene.

“You know, I’ll just text him, actually,” you chuckled, bringing out your phone to do just that.

“Man-shaped friend duties?” Sungchan questioned as the automatic doors parted for the two of you.

“His words, not mine,” you snorted. “But you know, making sure a woman doesn’t walk places by herself at night, that kind of stuff. Having a man just with her makes her safer, as fucked up as that is. Chenle corrected it to be man-shaped since he’s not the manly protective type.”

“I see.”

“But it looks like you’re on man-shaped friend duties for tonight, Sungchan.”

As soon as the words were out of your mouth, you wanted to stuff them back in. Friend. God, that was absolutely not what was happening here and you knew it. Chenle’s previous texts flashed across your mind. You obviously knew why Sungchan would’ve wanted to invite you to his game, and you said yes purposefully. Friend. Foot, meet mouth.

Sungchan blinked down at you, but seemed to take it in stride, “Of course, Y/N. Anytime you need a man-shaped person at your side, just call me up. I’ll bring my hockey stick.”

He patted his gear bag that was slung over his shoulder, making you giggle.

“I’ll keep you on speed dial, then.”

It was a short walk to your apartment, and you and Sungchan mostly talked about the game. You asked him a couple questions that Taeyong hadn’t covered during it— which Chenle might’ve, except you had tuned him out. And as you came to a stop at your front door, you didn’t yet fish your keys from your bag.

“How often do you have away games?” You asked.

“They’re usually about half,” Sungchan shrugged. “It’s a bit annoying missing classes, and the bus is kind of rank on the trip back.”

“Ew…” You wrinkled your nose.

“But they’re always a lot of fun.”

“So, uhm, when’s your next home game?”

His face brightened as he seemed to realize what exactly you were asking, “Next week. Same time.”

“Okay, cool.” You bit your lip.

“Cool,” he echoed.

You looked up at Sungchan, catching his eyes for a heart stopping moment. Both of you were standing on your welcome mat, he was close enough that you could catch a faint whiff of the detergent from his clothes—a college athlete with freshly washed clothes? You might already be in love—and watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed. You had the urge to grab him by the front of his hoodie and yank him—

A garish, blaring ringing going off interrupted your split-second pros and cons weighing that had been going on. Sungchan startled at the noise, reminding you very much of a baby moose in the moment. You groaned as you reached into your bag for your phone.

“Oh my god, stop it,” you hissed under your breath as you snoozed the alarm that was going off on there. Once it was quiet, you looked back up at the man with you sheepishly, “Sorry about that.”

He joked, “Curfew?”

You laughed lightly, “No, just a reminder for something I have to do after I get home. It’s fine.”

“Well, before you go do that, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Nu Chi and the team are hosting a joint Halloween party this year, and I’d really like it if I could see you there.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow, people will probably start showing up after like ten, eleven. It’s at the Nu Chi house, theirs is bigger than ours.”

“Fascinating phrasing,” you snickered.

“I know this is last minute, so I get if you have other plans or something.”

“I… can probably swing by for a bit, yeah,” you nodded.

“Great!” Sungchan beamed. “Oh, it is a costume party, by the way.”

“Costume?” You arched a brow. “What’ll you being going as? And please don’t say hockey player.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, “Definitely not… that would be lame…”

“You were planning on going as a hockey player, weren’t you?”

“Me and Mark have been putting all our spare time into planning this thing, I haven’t had any time to think about a costume.”

“Well you’ve given me 24-hour notice for a costume, so this is your 24-hour notice for one too. When I find you at the Nu Chi house tomorrow, I do not want to see a hockey jersey, Jung Sungchan. Any sports player is off-limits, understand?” You poked his chest with finality.

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded in assent.

Just then, your alarm went off again, and this time you jumped out of your skin. Apparently, another 5 minutes had elapsed. With a sigh, you reached into your bag for your keys.

“I should let you go do that thing,” Sungchan chuckled. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Sungchan,” you unlocked your front door. “See you tomorrow.”

Sitting at your kitchen table a couple minutes later, you were looking down at the vitals displayed on the screen of your blood pressure cuff.

“Jung Sungchan…” you muttered to yourself as you added the reading to your digital record, noting how the line graph jumped up with the new data.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 31

“You agreed to go to a frat party?” Chenle’s eyes were bugging out of his head as he sat across a high top in the dining hall from you. You two were grabbing a quick lunch between classes, and doing an obligatory catch-up on how your short but sweet walk with Sungchan went last night. “Do you remember what happened last time, Y/N?”

“Hard to forget,” you snorted.

“And yet it seems you did, somehow, lost in dreamboat Jung Sungchan’s eyes.”

You threw a fry from his plate at him, “It wasn’t like that!”

He ducked, letting it sail by his head and hit the wall behind him.

“Then what was it like?”

“It was more like a big puppy that I couldn’t say no to and—”

You were cut off by loud gagging noises from your friend, and went to kick him under the table, but missed and hit his chair leg instead. He still got the message, quieting down to let you continue.

“I told him I’d be able to just pop in for a bit. I’ll be in and out before it’ll get too bad.”

“Famous last words...”

“Hold on, LeLe,” you grabbed your friend’s arm to stop him on the sidewalk in front of the Nu Chi Tau frat house.

Taking another look into your tote bag, you made sure once again that you had everything you could possibly need tonight. Medications, snacks, water bottle, ear plugs, the usual. After closing the snaps on the bag, you nervously fidgeted with the hem of your costume. Generic witch, it was the last thing the costume store had in your size that wasn’t garishly scary. You understood well and good how college Halloween parties worked: you had to look hot, not terrifying. Not to mention that those horror show costumes were also much pricier than your “Sexy Witch” one.

“You look cute, Y/N,” Chenle reassured you, readjusting your witch hat for you. “Jung Sungchan won’t know what hit him.”

Chenle, on the other hand, was an almost scarily realistic zombie. If you hadn’t spent an ungodly amount of time hanging out on his bathroom counter this afternoon watching him apply the SFX makeup himself, you would’ve thought he had hired a professional makeup artist to do it. He’d always gone ham on Halloween since you two were kids, ever since he figured out how to make a Transformers costume out of cardboard boxes in primary school. You usually participated in partner costumes with him, but you really didn’t want him to make you a gross-looking zombie tonight.

“Thanks.” You gave him as confident a smile as you could muster.

Resecuring your grip on your go bag, you started up the walkway to the house with your friend.

You had been able to faintly hear the thumping bass of the music from outside, but once inside, you were almost immediately hit by a wall of music. Just inside the front door you were faced with a mass of people in bright costumes, flashing lights, corny Halloween decorations of cobwebs, spiders, ghosts, and pumpkins all over the walls.

Chenle looked over at you expectantly, “Y/N?”

“I couldn’t find my concert earplugs, only my noise canceling. I won’t be able to hear anybody unless they’re shouting at me if I put those in,” you replied, having to raise your voice to make sure he heard you. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay…” He sighed and grabbed your elbow. “Come on, let’s find a quieter spot in the house then.”

You gave him a thumbs up and bright grin, already feeling your ears acclimate to the loudness. You could totally do this. It was one night, and you were just going to see Sungchan for a bit then go. Pop in then back out, just like you said.

You didn’t have to wait long to spot Sungchan. Chenle had barely tugged you into the next room over from the small foyer when a familiar head was visible over the crowd, his bright smile focused on you.

“Hey, Y/N!” Sungchan grinned down at you. He was dressed in a suit and tie, what you were guessing was probably his only set, and his hair was parted to one side, styled off of his face. The tie had already been loosened, and the tuck of his dress shirt wasn’t so crisp.

“Hi, Sungchan,” you smiled up at him, amazed that you could hear anything over both the music and now your heart beating so loudly in your ears.

“So you did find a costume.”

“Oh, yeah,” you messed with the hem of your skirt. “Last one at the shop.”

“You look great.” He was still beaming down at you, and you could feel your skin growing warmer. “I’m really glad you could make it.”

“Thanks. Uhm, so what are you? Funeral director?”

“What? No, I’m—” His sentence stopped in its tracks as he looked down at the front of his suit jacket. He started patting his empty breast pocket, then other jacket pockets, then pants pockets, then looked around on the floor. “Fuck.”

“What?” You looked around under your feet, but weren’t able to see anything other than the usual party debris. “Did you lose something?”

Sungchan looked back up at you, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I was about to say that I’m Mulder from the X-Files. But I’ve apparently lost my fake FBI badge. So it looks like I’m a funeral director now.”

You giggled. “Maybe you can be Mulder when he retires and buys a funeral home.”

“Yeah, the perfect costume. Won’t take too long to explain to anybody, they’ll get it immediately,” he laughed.

“Hey, I’m just glad you didn’t wear a jersey.”

“I’m nothing if not a man of my word.”

“Oh, have you seen Chenle’s makeup by the—” But when you turned around to gesture to your friend, you found that he had disappeared, leaving you and the hockey captain all alone.

“Chenle?” Sungchan asked with a tilted head. “I didn’t even realize he was here yet.”

You shook your head fondly at your friend’s antics. Well, you’d have to thank him later.

“He must have gone to get a drink or something. Either way, it seems I’ve been abandoned.”

“Well, you can come hang out with me and some of the guys, if you want?” He offered.

“Yeah, I’d really like that,” you nodded, readjusting your bag to make sure it was pulled in tight to your body.

Sungchan led you through the frat house with a hand on the small of your back, and you snuck a glance up at him when he went to greet someone who had called his name as you passed by. He kept you tucked into his side as he slowed to give the guy a friendly slap on the shoulder. As soon as Sungchan had stopped to say hello, two more people appeared seemingly from nowhere, eagerly greeting him as well. You faintly recognized one, Jisung, a new Nu Chi pledge. He’d been at the hockey game you went to, and always found Chenle at Nu Chi events that you tagged along to. You looked up at Sungchan’s animated, handsome face again as he continued talking.

“This is Y/N.” Sungchan’s voice suddenly pulled you into the conversation. You snapped your focus down from his face to the other three that were in front of you, and realized that they all definitely knew that you’d been staring.

“Oh, hi.” You gave the three boys a nervous smile.

“Y/N, this is Jisung, Shotaro, and Renjun. Jisung and Shotaro are Nu Chi pledges, Renjun’s a sophomore brother, and he’s—you’re a Literature major, right, Renjun?”

“Yes.” One of them nodded.

“Renjun’s a Literature major too, Y/N,” Sungchan finished the introduction.

“Cool, cool,” you nodded. It had been Shotaro that called Sungchan over in the first place, you were pretty sure.

“Anyway, thanks for the offer, guys, but I already promised Hyuck I would, so we’ve got to go.”

Sungchan ushered you away to the tune of a chorus of disappointed groans from the three boys, and you wracked your brain to see if you could recall hearing any sort of proposition from them. But nope, between the loud music and your prior lack of attention to the conversation, you had nothing.

“What did they want?” You gave up and finally asked Sungchan.

“Beer pong. Hope you don’t mind that I declined. I’ve already had a couple and am not looking to get wasted quite yet.”

“Oh, no, not at all,” you shook your head. Thank god you didn’t have to deal with that yet. “Not really my thing anyway. Terrible hand-eye coordination.”

Sungchan seemed about to say something when someone walked by you with an exceptionally pungent cologne. The whiff shot directly to your head like a bullet, the sharp pain making you wince and hiss. It took everything in you not to cover your nose like Edward Cullen and instead shift to breathing through your mouth for a few moments.

“Y/N? You okay?” Sungchan’s voice was clearly concerned.

The sharp pain was gone just a couple moments after it had registered, and you opened your eyes up again, giving him a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, don’t know what that was.”

“Okay, good.” He squeezed your shoulder before dropping his hand back down to your back and continuing your trek through the Nu Chi house.

You and Sungchan finally made it to a room adjacent to the main living room, where there were a couple of beat-up old couches and lots of Nu Chi Tau paraphernalia. The bass of the music playing in the next room over would occasionally make the picture frames and plaques on the walls rattle, and you could hear every word of the songs crystal clear, even though the room that you were in was packed to the brim with partygoers as well. Sungchan stopped you at a group of people gathered around one of the couches, tapping the shoulders of two of them who had their backs to you. Donghyuck and Hendery turned around, immediately parting to make room for the both of you in the group upon seeing you.

Almost everyone in the group was familiar to you either as friends or acquaintances. Your social circle was big thanks to Chenle, who was friends with practically the entire hockey team and Nu Chi house, despite being a member of neither. But now you didn’t have your best friend at your side, just Sungchan and your tote bag, both of which you were keeping close to you.

“Oh shit, Y/N!” Hendery grinned, pulling you into a one-armed hug of greeting. “Damn, it really is you!”

“Yeah, I’m a witch, not a ghost, Hendery,” you retorted jokingly. He was dressed as Prince Eric, if you weren’t mistaken.

“Well, when Sungchan said you were coming, some of us were a bit... skeptical.”

Someone dressed as Venom cut in from Hendery’s other side sharply, “No, I believe you said ‘never in a million fucking years, loverboy.’”

The rest of the group erupted in tipsy snickers and ‘ooh’s, and you felt Sungchan jostle a little as someone had presumably given him a teasing shove.

“Alright, guys. You can cut it out now,” Sungchan spoke over them authoritatively. He then looked down to you, features softening. “Sorry. Anyway, this is Donghyuck, he’s on the team and in Nu Chi—”

He pointed to the boy right next to him, wearing a very classic vampire costume splattered with a little bit of fake blood or fruit punch (you couldn’t tell in the poor lighting), and you wondered if he had also gone to a Halloween store last-minute like you. You knew him both from the game, and from a couple times you’d seen him with Chenle outside of frat or hockey events.

“Mark, frat president and he’s on the hockey team—” He was next to Donghyuck, dressed as Spiderman. You were already familiar with Mark, both from the game, and a group project in a class last year. You wondered if Mark remembered that.

“Ten, hockey and Nu Chi—” Ten was reclined on the couch, a top hat that had presumably been on his head earlier now resting on his propped up knee. Between that and his eyepatch, he clearly was dressed as some character that you couldn’t identify in the moment. You knew Ten outside of hockey, the frat, or even Chenle. He was a Lit major, so you had shared classes and study groups over the years. He raised a friendly hand in greeting.

“Sicheng, my co-captain and he’s in Nu Chi, too—” He was on the couch with Ten, sequestered to one corner as his teammate was taking up most of the space with his legs. Sicheng was dressed up as an angel, fake wings, little halo, and all. And you knew Sicheng through Ten, they’d been roommates since freshman year and could often be found together around campus. He gave you a nod of familiarity.

“Dejun, Nu Chi—” Sungchan had finally reached the man who was dressed as Venom.

“And you of course, unfortunately, know Hendery, Nu Chi.”

“Oh, boo, Sungchan,” Hendery stuck his tongue out at the captain.

You smiled and nodded a little bit at everyone else, but you were finding it hard to concentrate with the music in the background. Did it really need to be that loud?

“Y/N?” The sound of your name snapped your focus up, and you looked around for the source.

A few of the guys had gone back to their own conversations. Sungchan was looking down at you, head tilted inquisitively. Presumably he had been to the one to say your name.

“Oh, sorry,” you tried to give a nonchalant chuckle, but it was getting harder and harder to even articulate yourself with all the stimulation. “The music...”

“Oh!” Sungchan perked up at this. “Do you want to go dance?”

He was offering a hand out to you, and you stared down at it, mouth opening and closing as your brain felt like it was moving through sludge. You quite literally could not process what that string of words actually meant for a good second, and then it took even longer for you to even tie together the right way for you to respond. Cognitive fatigue. Oh this was not good. You squeezed your eyes shut, then open.

You again gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I’m- I’m kind of light-headed right now. Could you get me something to drink?”

His features immediately turned concerned. “Of course. Do you need to sit down or a ride h—”

“Can you just get me a drink?” Your brain was stuck in a perpetual loop now that it had locked onto one task. It took all of your energy just to regulate your tone enough to keep your voice (hopefully) as sweet as possible, despite the fact that you had cut him off.

“Of course. I’ll be right back.” He squeezed your upper arm reassuringly before taking off.

Your eyes were fixated on the spot where he had just been, your vision seeming to continuously zoom in and past your head. Squeezing your eyes shut once more, you took a deep breath through your mouth to try to recenter yourself. But it didn’t help any. Your head felt like a balloon that someone was overinflating, and you knew exactly what was coming next. You swallowed thickly, taking a second to look through the crowd. Nope, you couldn’t wait for Sungchan. Not like you could even verbalize much of anything right now. You had to go take your medication.

So you hurried into the crowd, clutching your tote bag to your chest like your life depended on it—which it really did. Mumbling ‘excuse me’s to everyone you shouldered, bumped into, or stepped on the toes of, you finally made it to a door that you were pretty sure was a bathroom. You tried the handle first, and when it gave in, you still knocked as you opened it, just in case. It was miraculously empty. Maybe there really was a God. Then, the balloon started to deflate, the pressure in your head inverted, becoming a harsh, squeezing pain instead. Nope, nope, definitely not a God. Or at least not a benevolent one.

You locked the door behind you with clumsy fingers and shuffled over to the sink. The countertop was in good enough condition for you to toss your bag up there and start rooting around through it. Bottle after bottle after bottle, then you finally secured the right two. You shook out a pill from one, then a pill from the other. The lights above the mirror were becoming more insufferable by the second. You cracked open the fresh bottle of water you had stored in your bag too, and knocked both pills back in one big gulp.

Tossing the water back into your bag, you could fucking finally flip the switch and turn the lights in the bathroom off. After feeling your way along the wall, you eventually found the bathtub, and sat yourself down. The music was somewhat muffled in here, and you figured this was going to be the darkest room in the whole Nu Chi house. Right now, your plan was to wait in here for your medication to kick in and hopefully stop this migraine before it really got going. Then you could make your great escape, and send Sungchan some bullshit apology text later. After tossing your witch hat to the ground vaguely beside your bag, you gently rested your head against the cool tile of the shower with a sigh. Chenle was right, you shouldn’t have come. Cynically, you thought that you should have timed it. See how long you lasted before you got a migraine. You’d be surprised if that was even 15 minutes.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Sungchan returned to the group with your requested drink in hand and another for himself, frowning when he immediately noticed your absence. “Hey, where’d Y/N go?”

“Oh, shit, uh…” Mark looked around with a baffled look on his face. “No clue dude, she was just here a second ago.”

“I’m going to go find her. Here.” He shoved both drinks into Hendery’s hands.

“Sungchan, come on, take a hint, man,” Donghyuck sighed, patting the taller boy’s shoulder sympathetically.

“What?”

“She asked you to get her something to drink and then slipped away when nobody was looking.”

“Y/N’s not like that.”

“And denial’s a river in Egypt.”

“No, she hasn’t been feeling well all night. I think. I’m going to go look for her.”

“So you’re admitting that you make her physically ill.”

“Dude, you’re just asking to get your shit rocked, you know that, right?” Ten warned him.

“Hey, I’m standing up for women—”

Mark cut him off, “Hyuck, you’re on your own if Sungchan decides to fuck your shit up. I don’t care if you’re my little, I’m not—”

“Oh, wahhh, my big strong big won’t protect me.”

“Christ, I swear he’s only had like four shots and a couple…”

His friends’ voices quickly faded into the din of the party as Sungchan pushed through the crowd. He couldn’t spot you, but found maybe the next best thing.

“Hey, Chenle.” He grabbed him by the elbow, turning him away from the arm wrestling competition between Jeno and Yangyang that he was spectating. Or, he at least hoped this was Chenle, it was a bit hard to tell with the zombie makeup.

“Hey, Romeo!” Chenle greeted him jovially, punching him in the shoulder over-zealously. Okay, definitely him.

“Have you seen Y/N? In the past like, five minutes or so?”

“You lost her?” The zombie asked angrily, cheerful mood immediately soured.

“Uh, yes? Sorry?”

“No, I’m not pissed at you,” he shook his head at Sungchan’s apology. “You go check the bathrooms, I’ll look outside. Don’t bother calling her, she’s not going to pick up.”

“What’s—”

But Chenle was already gone.

You weren’t sure how long you had been sitting in there for, but you could feel some of the overstimulation from the party beginning to slide off of you. Which could be either a good or bad thing. Cognitive fatigue was usually a prodrome and postdrome for you. Regaining some clarity could either mean that your medication was working and the migraine was going away, or you were about to enter the proper migraine phase. The fact that the pain hadn’t gone away was worrying. But at least it was dark, and relatively quiet. Oh, quiet... you could put in your earplugs now too.

Just as you had gone to grab for your bag, there was a knock at the bathroom door. You froze. Shit.

“Occupied!” You yelled out hesitantly to them, wincing at the loudness of your own voice. Okay, ow.

The person knocked again, harder.

“Seriously! Busy in here! Puking my brains out!” You yelled even louder, hoping they got the fucking idea this time. There was no way you wanted to have to actually get up and deal with a drunk partygoer that needed to piss and/or puke.

“Y/N? That you?” A familiar voice came through the door. “It’s Sungchan, can I come in?”

“Oh, sure, hold on.” You clambered out of the tub as carefully as you could in the dim lighting coming from under the door.

Against your better judgment, you turned one set of lights on in the bathroom, then cracked the bathroom door open. Sungchan was in fact on the other side, and you stepped back to let him in. He looked around the bathroom, worry on his face.

You shut the door behind him, saying sheepishly, “So, I was lying about the puking my brains out.”

“But you don’t look okay.” He peered down at your face as you were still wincing against the bright lights. “You didn’t drink anything tonight, what’s wrong?”

You went to sit on the side of the tub, feeling a pain in your eyes now. You gestured to the light switch. “Can you turn that light off?”

“Uh, okay…” He obliged, and the room was dim once again.

Your eyes adjusted quickly, and you could still see the general outline of everything in the room. Sitting back in the tub, you pulled your knees to your chest. Well, no chance for your great escape now. Sungchan climbed into the dry tub with you, facing you. He didn’t fit great in the small space, all gangly limbs, and your knees bumped into each other. But he sat there with you quietly.

“I’ve got a migraine coming on, I had to get somewhere quiet and dark and take my meds.” You told him bluntly, opting to just take the plunge. Not like you could even attempt flowery language at the moment anyway. Sure, some of your speech capabilities were coming back now that there was less sensory input, but you weren’t going to be doing any soliloquies tonight.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Sungchan said quietly. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No, no. I actually- I actually don’t want to be alone right now, if that’s okay?” You surprised yourself with your answer.

“Yeah, of course.” He said reassuringly. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“I might not have drank but you did. I’ll be okay here, for the most part. I’m the one who came knowing that I get sound-induced migraines.”

“Wait, really?”

“Mm, yeah,” you pinched the bridge of your nose to alleviate some of the tension there for a moment. “Remember when I said Chenle pushes me out of my comfort zone in a good way most of the time?”

“Right.”

“One of the times it wasn’t... good was when he got an invite to Nu Chi’s Halloween party our freshman year, dragged me with him. And he always means the best when he does stuff like that. I hadn’t made any new friends at college, meanwhile he had a bunch, including some of the pledges at Nu Chi.”

“How he got the invite.”

“Exactly.” You needed to take a pause, resting your head against the cool tile again. After a few deep breaths, you pushed on in the story. “Anyway, we’d been there for a couple hours when the loudness and the music and everything finally got to me and I got a migraine. I had my go bag on me, and went to what I thought was an empty corner of the house to take my meds. But a couple other people saw me knocking back pills and wanted some. My head was hurting like a bitch, and they were trying to grab them from me and anyway, I spilled a bunch of them all over the floor, drenched myself with my water and their beer, and elbowed a dude and gave him a bloody nose.”

“Holy shit,” Sungchan breathed out.

You opened and closed your jaw a couple times to try to relax the muscles and joints there. “I couldn’t even open my eyes because my head hurt so bad. Chenle told me later I was screaming and Taeyong wanted to call an ambulance until Chenle ran up and explained what was happening. They put me, Chenle, and Jeno—turns out that’s whose nose I broke—in Taeyong’s room in the house for the rest of the night. Neither Chenle nor I were in any shape to drive ourselves home.”

“Wait is that how you met Jeno?”

“Yeah, and it turns out he wasn’t one of the ones trying to take my pills, he was trying to break up me and the people who were. Collateral damage.” You recounted it regrettably.

“When Jeno found out I’d invited you, he told me he’d keep his room clear in case we needed it. I thought he was just being a dick.” Sungchan sounded like he was having an epiphany. “Y/N, do you think you’ll be okay to move up a floor?”

The bass was thudding through the door, and you knew that if you stayed here when you transitioned into the throes of however bad this migraine fully got, you’d regret it. Grabbing your earplugs from your bag and putting them in, you gave him a thumbs-up and attempted a smile, but you knew it came out like more of a wince.

Sungchan kept you between him and the wall as you moved through the Nu Chi house, casting as much of a shadow against the garishly flashing lights as possible. Even through your earplugs, the music was raucous, people were practically screaming at each other, and you gripped one hand around his arm and the other onto his suit jacket to keep yourself balanced and to not lose him. When you got to the stairs, he fully wrapped an arm around your shoulders to jerk you out of the way of a drunk Nu Chi member stumbling his way down, and kept it there the rest of the way up. The noise was squeezing around your head like a vice, and you shut your eyes tight at the top of the stairs for a moment in an attempt to clear your head.

Sungchan’s voice was right beside your ear, muffled through the earplugs, “We’re almost there, Y/N, I’m sorry, come on.”

You were vaguely aware of the man with you feeling around on the top of a doorway before jiggling a doorhandle, and finally you were in a blissfully dark and quiet-ish room. Your head definitely hurt more than before, and you practically collapsed onto the bed.

“He was kind enough to stuff all his dirty clothes in the closet,” Sungchan muttered.

You managed a strangled chuckle at that, dropping your go bag onto the floor beside the bed. A moment of silence passed, and you could hear Sungchan awkwardly shifting his weight between his feet at the doorway.

“Sungchan,” you said his name, then patted the empty half of the bed beside you. “You can sit. I know Jeno doesn’t have any other furniture in here besides the bed and his PlayStation.”

“He probably only has a bedframe because it came with the room.”

You snickered, but were cut off by the squeezing pain turning to a sharp, stabbing pain behind your left eye, “Oh fuck!”

“Y/N?!” Sungchan was right beside you, and you felt the bed dip as he sat down beside you.

“Sorry, sorry, it feels like I’m getting an icepick lobotomy! Jesus!” You hissed, cupping a hand over your left eye as if that were actually going to do anything. “It’s normal, I’m fine. Relatively.”

“Okay…”

Still clutching your eye, you rolled onto your side and brought your knees up towards your chest. You blindly fumbled towards the head of the bed, and felt a pillow being pressed into your hand.

“Thanks,” you muttered, tucking it under your head.

“Do you want to lay under the covers?” Sungchan whispered.

“Do they smell like Jeno’s washed them in the past week?”

He laughed breathily at that, “Miraculously they do. I think he was planning on getting laid.”

“He gave up getting his dick wet for me. Jeno’s a real one,” you mumbled, feeling the covers that you were laying on top of being pulled out from under you.

Sungchan gently brought the sheet up to your shoulder, then a blanket too. The stabbing pain behind your eye was still there, and your stomach filled with dread as you acknowledged that your acute medication wasn’t going to be working this time. This was going to be a full-blown migraine, and who knew how many hours it would last.

“Thank you.”

“Is there anything else you need? Water?”

“No. Just uh, let me know when two hours have passed, I can take another dose of my meds that aren’t fucking working then.”

“Oh. Will do.”

You opened and closed your jaw, letting out a distinct groan. Another few minutes passed. Or, you think it was a few minutes, you couldn’t really check your phone for the time.

“Sungchan.”

“Yes?”

“You don’t have to stay. I’m sure the party is a lot more fun.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“…No.”

“I want to stay. I’m not going to have any fun out there knowing that you’re in all in this pain all alone in here.”

You squinted your right eye open, and had to crane your neck to look up at where Sungchan was sitting against the headboard. He had taken his suit jacket and shoes off at some point, now just in a rumpled dress shirt, loosened tie, slacks, and socks. He held your eye contact steadily, head tilted slightly and a frown across his handsome features.

Reaching your unoccupied hand up towards him, he watched it with confusion.

“What do you need? Your bag?”

“No.” You grabbed his hand, giving it a light squeeze.

“Oh.” An adorably radiant grin was on his face now instead.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 1

Sungchan knew you’d finally fallen asleep when you stopped muttering swears and curses under your breath, the pained expression fell from your face, and your hand that was holding his went limp. He could still hear the party going strong outside of Jeno’s bedroom, and a glance at his phone told him it was just after one in the morning. He had no want to rejoin his friends, to leave you.

He took his tie all the way off, thinking to himself that if you were feeling better, you might have joked that he looked like Mulder the off-duty funeral director. And he would’ve laughed and watched the cute way the corners of your mouth quirked up when you said something that you thought was funny. He set the tie down with his shoes on the floor beside the bed.

Careful to stay on top of the covers that you were sleeping under, Sungchan shifted until he was laying down too, pillow tucked under his head, facing you on his side, hand still holding yours.

Like usual, you didn’t remember falling asleep, but you did remember shutting your eyes tight and wishing really hard for your head to stop hurting so bad. Or to die. Whichever the Universe felt like granting. And judging by the fact that you were now waking up without a migraine, it seemed like the former.

The first thing you were aware of before you even opened your eyes was that you felt like shit. Sure, your head didn’t hurt anymore, but jeez the morning after wasn’t much better. Tired, achy, and your brain felt like TV static.

The second thing that you were aware of, after opening your eyes, was Jung Sungchan just a few inches from your face. He was still asleep, soft bursts of air passing from his lips and mussing up strands of hair that were falling into his eyes. You didn’t quite have enough in you to coo over his bedhead, but you could give half of a fond smile as you pushed yourself into a sitting position, running a sleepy hand over one side of your face.

Only one of your earplugs was still in your ears, and you looked around the bedsheets for the other one. After securing it, you scooted over to the edge of the bed to put the plugs back into your carrying case before rolling back over and pulling the blankets over you again. You deserved this, honestly. Sleeping in late, a comfy bed, warm blankets, a cute boy next to you, nothing to—

Your happy thoughts were ripped away by the sound of a loud alarm. You shot up, scrambling towards your tote bag to grab your phone from the depths of it and turn your goddamn alarm off before it woke Sungchan up.

“Mm?”

Too late.

Sheepishly, you looked over at him, “Sorry…”

“‘S okay,” he mumbled, flopping onto his back and rubbing a hand over his face. “How’s your head?”

“Better. A lot better, thanks.”

“Good, good.” He yawned, “Morning, by the way.”

“Good morning.”

His eyes were closed as he laid there, a hand resting on his chest, and you weren’t sure if he had fallen back asleep.

“…Sungchan?”

“Hm?”

Taking his inquisitive tone as a sign that you could keep talking, you said, “Uhm, that was the first time I’ve had anybody around for one my migraines in a while. I’m sorry if it was… well, I don’t know. What was it like for you?”

He opened his eyes, rolling onto his side to face you and tucking a hand under his cheek, “Oh, uh, I mean, I wasn’t quite worried, since you seemed like you knew exactly what was happening, you know? But still, I… I was wishing there was more I could do. It was weird knowing that you were in pain but not being able to see where it hurt.”

“I should’ve figured that might be upsetting. Sorry about all that.”

“No, Y/N, it's okay. I get it, you just wanted someone with you when you were hurting.”

“Yeah, yeah, I did,” you nodded, curling one of your hands into a fist in your lap, digging your nails into your palm in an attempt to not cry at how easily he saw right into you.

“I was more than happy to sit with you.”

“I’ve had these stupid migraines for years now. Tried every treatment in the book, been on every regiment. And my friends and family, they don’t treat me like I’m made of glass or anything, which I’m grateful for. Everyone in my life knows I’m a pro at it all: I’ve got my go bag, all my meds, my alarms, I’ve been going to doctors’ appointments, testing, everything for years. But like... they still hurt. The migraines still fucking hurt.” Your voice cracked over the word, and your nails dug in deeper. “And I just… think they forget that part sometimes? I don’t know, I guess they hear the word ‘migraine’ thousands of times over the years it sort of loses its meaning. They kind of forget what one actually is. But it hurts Sungchan, my head just hurts for hours or even days, sometimes so bad I throw up from the pain. I can’t do anything but lay in bed in the dark and cry. Last night’s wasn’t that bad but still… thank you. I needed for it to all be real to somebody.”

Sungchan pushed up into a sitting position, and through your watery vision you could see that his brows were furrowed. You followed where his gaze was locked, and watched as he gently unfurled your fingers. You used the thumb of your other hand to rub at the divots that your nails had left in your skin.

“The migraines are why I’ve been all weird, by the way.” You added, trying to ignore the strain in your voice.

“What?”

“When you wanted to buy me a drink after the game. One of my migraine medications that I take, I can’t drink alcohol on it. It just felt like a weird and long explanation to have to give in the moment. And when you asked if I wanted to dance with you last night, the music would’ve made the migraine come on quicker than it did, but explaining it to you then, again it felt like it would’ve ruined the moment even more.”

“Oh… don’t worry about it.”

There was still one big thing you hadn’t smoothed over. But it looks like you’re on man-shaped friend duties tonight, Sungchan. Stupid, stupid.

Pushing through the discomfort prickling at your skin, you asked, “Sungchan, do you want to go on a date?”

“A…” He looked you dead in the eyes for a moment, mouth parted, and blinked once, twice before he was absolutely beaming at you. “Yeah, yes, I do.”

“Okay.” You couldn’t help but giggle, nerves buzzing through you as your chest was airy and you were lightheaded for two reasons now, “Okay, good.”

“Is it bad for me to say that I’m relieved? That you have migraines? Well, not that you have them, because obviously they hurt, but like, that this is what it was? I seriously thought I was being stupid, like mixed signals or something. Like, you came to my game but then you didn’t want to go to the bar.” He ticked the instances off on the fingers of one hand.

“Medication,” you nodded.

“Right. Then you let me walk you home after, but you called me your friend.”

“That was just plain stupidity,” you admitted with a groan at having to relive that moment again.

“And you said yes to coming to the party, but then you didn’t want to dance with me,” Sungchan had now run out of fingers and dropped his hand back down to the bed.

“The music...”

“And when you disappeared, I thought you left because you didn’t like me. I just… felt like I was going crazy.”

“It’s not awful of you to be relieved about this. I’m sorry, Sungchan. Migraines aren’t conducive to romance, apparently.”

“Oh, bullshit.” He pushed back immediately. “They’re just not conducive to drinking and loud parties. That’s not romance.”

“Alright, fair. I’m wont to agree with you.”

“And you need to stop apologizing for your migraines. It’s not like you’re doing it on purpose.”

“Well, I did come to a loud ass party knowing I’d probably get a sound-induced migraine.”

“Okay, aside from that— which, I’m very flattered by and will never ever ask you to do anything like this ever again.”

“Okay.”

Suddenly the door handle rattled, then there was a banging on the door. “Hey! Are you two done in there?” Jeno yelled through the wood. “You better not be having post-headache sex on my bed!”

“Seems like he didn’t get laid last night,” Sungchan muttered.

“If he keeps up that pounding I’m going to get a rebound headache and he’s going to wake the entire house, please let him in,” you groaned.

The boy with you quickly moved to do so, unlocking the door and throwing it open to whisper aggressively, “Jeno! Shut the fuck up! People are still sleeping!”

“Oh. You’re dressed.”

You rolled your eyes at your friend, “I don’t know what you think a migraine is like, but getting my back blown out is pretty far down on my to-do list for immediately after.”

“How are you feeling?” Jeno was nice enough to ask as he rooted through his closet.

“Like shit. While you guys nurse actual hangovers today, I get to nurse a migraine hangover. Same awful morning after without the fun night before.”

“That sucks.” He secured a rumpled shirt and inside out pair of sweatpants. “I told Chenle you were crashing here last night, by the way. He didn’t just abandon you for shits and giggles.”

“Oh, thanks. He was sober enough to drive?”

“Mark had a Breathalyzer and everything.”

“Wow…”

“Now I recommend you two get the fuck out before everyone else wakes up and sees you sneaking out together.”

“Right,” Sungchan nodded, sitting on the edge of Jeno’s bed and pulling his shoes on.

You quickly gathered your shoes, phone, witch hat, and go bag before giving Jeno a short goodbye and following Sungchan out. The Nu Chi house was thankfully quiet as everyone was still asleep in their own rooms, save for the partygoers and brothers who had passed out on the couches in the living rooms. Once you were on the front porch, the two of you dared to speak again.

“I’ll drive you home, Y/N,” Sungchan offered.

“Mhm, thanks,” you squinted against the bright sunlight, reaching into your bag for the spare pair of sunglasses you kept in there.

He gestured to your bag. “So what all do you have in there?”

“Everything but the kitchen sink.” You sighed, finally securing your sunglasses and putting them on. They did help, but you knew there was no way you were going to avoid a rebound headache today. Realizing that Sungchan might actually have been genuinely asking and wasn’t just trying to be polite, you decided to give him a sincere answer as well. “Uh, my meds, my blood pressure cuff, earplugs, sunglasses, some snacks, other miscellaneous non-migraine related stuff like an umbrella.”

“Blood pressure cuff?” He stopped in front of a sedan parked on the street, and opened the passenger door for you.

Even through your unpleasant migraine hangover, you couldn’t help the giddy smile that crossed your lips at the gesture.

Once the both of you were in the car, you explained, “One of my medications affects my blood pressure. I have to check it every few hours, or whenever I feel kind of funny. That’s partially what the snacks are for too.”

“Really?” He started the car and pulled out into the street.

“Most of my meds I need to take with food, so keeping snacks on me makes it easy. The sweet ones are in case my blood sugar drops though.”

“Blood sugar too?”

“A different medication affects my appetite, secondary effect is on my blood sugar. Fun fact, it’s the same one that keeps me from drinking alcohol. Anyway, if you’re ever craving something sweet, I keep gummies and stuff on me usually.”

Sungchan let out a deep breath. “Wow…”

“Oh and water.” You perked up as you realized you’d forgotten something, and reached in for said item. “I've got my water bottle. I need water to take my meds, obviously, but I also need to drink water to make sure I don’t get kidney stones from my medication.”

The car had stopped at a stoplight, and he looked over at you in disbelief. “What the fuck.”

“Hey, it’s this or be entirely unable to participate in society.” You explained. “I used to get five or six migraines a week, with really bad or mild headaches constantly in between. I couldn’t do anything, they were disabling. Clearly, they still are now when I do get them, but I only get one or two a month.”

“I can’t imagine— I… yeah…” He trailed off as the light turned green, a deep frown etching itself on his features as he clearly was trying to imagine what a huge shift in his life that would be. And was having a hard time doing so.

“People without chronic illnesses usually can’t, until they get one,” you shrugged. “I know I couldn’t imagine it either. Then I got my first migraine. Then my second, and my third. I think the ‘chronic illness’ part really hit for me when I had to order my first sharps disposal bin for the monthly injections I take.”

“You’re…”

“Do not say that I’m so strong or any live laugh love type shit right now.”

He laughed, shaking his head, “No, no, not what I was going to say. I was just thinking… you’re really cool.”

“I just info-dumped about my migraines, medication, medication side effects, and treatment to you for ten minutes straight and that’s the conclusion you came to?” You asked in disbelief as he pulled into your apartment complex, and it dawned on you just how long you had been talking about yourself for. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been that detailed with someone other than your neurologist or your mom about your condition and treatment.

Sungchan put his car in park to turn and look you in the eye. “I’m looking at the bigger picture here: You’re a Lit major, you like Gothic fiction, you’re good at writing, you’re smart and know things like death of the author and stuff, you like Pacific Rim, you’ve come to one of my games, you’re funny, and you just info-dumped to me about something personal for ten minutes. So yes, I think you’re cool. Actually, cool might be an understatement.”

“Jung Sungchan, you…” Your cheeks were hurting with how wide you were grinning. Whether it was the migraine hangover or truly from how warm and happy his words made you, you couldn’t formulate a proper response, “Congrats, I’m speechless.”

“I think that's good?” He laughed again. “Anyway, you told Jeno earlier that you felt like shit, so I won’t hold you up anymore. Rest well today, Y/N.”

“Thanks. You too, Sungchan.” You wrapped your hand around the door handle but stopped just short of actually opening it. “Oh, and uhm, I don’t know if this too eager or whatever, but I’m free tomorrow.”

His face lit up with recognition at what you were implying. “Me too. But are you going to be okay? Like, recovered?”

“Yeah, I’ve got all day today to sleep it off.”

“Okay.” He grinned.

“Okay.” You repeated. “Text me?”

“Yes, yes. I will.”

“Bye.”

And with that, you got out of his car, making sure to take your go bag that had been on your lap for the whole drive.

Halfway to your front door, you turned around to give Sungchan a final wave goodbye, and he waved back through the windshield. Once you’d finally disappeared into your apartment, he looked over at his now empty passenger seat. Well, not completely empty, he realized. Your witch hat was on the floor of the passenger side, you’d forgotten to grab it on your way out. He picked it up, gently setting it on the seat beside him. He’d just give it back to you when he saw you again for your date tomorrow.

“A date,” Sungchan sighed happily, feeling his chest swell and nearly burst with joy. “A date, a date, a date.”

Putting his car in reverse, he looked through the rear window as he muttered, “Suck an egg, Donghyuck. Man-shaped friend, my ass.”

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 2

Sungchan picked you up at 7:00 p.m. on the dot for your first date. You made sure to take your nighttime meds early and silence your alarms so there was nothing to bother you that night. Migraines notwithstanding, of course. You still had to bring your go bag just in case you needed anything acute, but you didn’t think twice about leaving the majority of it in the car, tucking just a couple individually packaged tablets into your pocket before accepting Sungchan’s hand that he offered to you after opening your car door for you.

Walking into the movie theater with him after he bought your tickets, you were about to start off in the direction that the usher had pointed you when your date stopped you.

“You want anything from concessions?” He nodded towards the long line of other couples, families, and groups of friends.

“I’m not big on overpriced popcorn,” you shook your head with a smile. “Thanks though, Sungchan.”

“You sure you don’t want a soda or candy? How’s your, you know, blood sugar?”

It was then that your polite smile morphed into a genuine, touched one, and you squeezed his hand that you were holding. “I’m doing good, promise. I made sure I ate before. But thank you, seriously. You’re really sweet.”

“Okay, but let me know if you need anything.”

“Sungchan, can I tell you something?” You ducked your head in towards him conspiratorially.

“Yeah, of course.”

You gently shook one side of your jacket, and a muffled rattling sound came from within it. “I snuck a bag of Skittles in,” you whispered to him.

He chuckled as you dropped your jacket back down and smoothed over the inside pocket inconspicuously. “Two steps ahead of me.”

“I just didn’t want to ruin our date if I got low.”

“It’s very thoughtful, thanks.”

“So are you!” You tried to reassure him.

The two of you entered where your movie would be showing, and picked your seats. The previews had already started, so you had to drop your voices to whispers.

“But you’re going to be good with the bright light, and the sounds?” Sungchan double-checked with you.

You nodded insistently. “You’re the one who made me compile a list of stuff that I could do, remember?”

“I know, but you also came to that party knowing that it was like 100% guaranteed to give you a migraine. So I think I’ve earned some skepticism.”

“Okay, fine. You got me there,” you sighed. “But I get nothing out of suggesting things that will give me migraines other than cutting our time together short. Which I don’t want to do.”

Sungchan shifted in his seat, and when you looked over at him, you could see a small, bashful smile on his face. “Good. Glad we got that cleared up.”

The previews finally ended, and the entire theater quieted down, including you two. You settled in to watch the movie, scooting closer to your date, looping your arm under his, and resting your head on his shoulder. He hesitantly leaned his head against the top of yours.

As you left the theater hand-in-hand with Sungchan, you two were deep in discussion about the movie, and in the back of your mind, you realized with a panic that you had far too much that you wanted to say that wouldn’t fit into the short ride back to your apartment. Not to mention that you didn’t want your night with him to be over yet.

“Hey.” You called for his attention as he opened up the passenger door for you, stopping before you got in the car.

“Hey.” He offered you a lopsided grin, still holding the door open with one hand and now caging you between him and the open car door.

If the parking lot wasn’t literally swarming with other movie theater patrons, you swore you would’ve grabbed him and kissed him stupid right there and then. But a family of five walked by at that moment, so you swallowed down the itch.

“We should go somewhere,” you suggested, trying to sound equal parts nonchalant and hopeful. Which was a weird combination, you knew, but you didn’t want to come across as too desperate. Again, a ridiculous sentiment, but it was engrained in you with social conditioning or whatever.

“We just went somewhere,” he pointed out knowingly, and you swore that was a smirk that you spotted on his face in the shadowy lighting afforded by the parking lot streetlamps.

“We should go somewhere else.”

“Like where?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, despite how desperate you felt on the inside to just be around him right now. “Somewhere. Are you hungry?”

“Are you?”

You pressed your lips together in a thin line. “Well—”

Finally, he smiled, nodded towards the car, and said, “I know somewhere. Get in.”

Sungchan closed the car door after you before walking around to get into the driver’s side. He didn’t offer you any information or clues as to your new destination as he left the movie theater parking lot. The hockey captain drove with one hand casually holding the bottom of the steering wheel, the other tapping out the rhythm of whatever song was playing over his speakers onto his thigh. You dragged your eyes from his fingers to the passing scenery.

Honestly, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d been on a good date. Even the last date you’d been on was a distant memory. Lunch with some CompSci major your freshman year, a blind date set up by a mutual acquaintance. He just talked over you the whole time. You didn’t deign to go on a second date with him. It wasn’t that your migraines made it impossible to date—they hadn’t even come up at the date with the CompSci major (mostly because he didn’t give you the opportunity to say much of anything)—but you knew that it was always going to be something to get out of way. Either up front or at some point down the line. And it was exhausting enough for you to have to completely restructure your life around them, how could you really ask some stranger who barely knew you—or didn’t at all—to consider doing the same? It felt like it just made your dating pool even narrower, an added standard that you didn’t even get to pick.

But with Sungchan, it had happened in the worst way possible, you disappeared on him because you were having a migraine, without even having told him anything about them. And not only was he more than chill about it, he stayed with you through your entire full-blown migraine. Listened to you explain every ailment, medication, and medication complication that you have, and just tucked all that information away to keep track of your wellbeing. Taken it all in stride and made it look easy. And that was before your first date. It almost made you angry. Not at Sungchan, but at the fact that other people had ever made you feel like an inconvenience.

The car slowing to a stop knocked you from your thoughts, and you didn’t even realize that you had been silent for the entire trip. Sungchan didn’t seem to mind, though, as he hadn’t tried to start a conversation either. He put the car in park as you looked around, trying to gauge where exactly you were.

“Are we… on campus?” You turned to him with an eyebrow raised.

He was already out of the car, though, jogging around to get your door. As he opened it for you, he tilted his head innocently, “What was that?”

You stepped out, taking in your surroundings. “Are we at a campus parking garage?”

“Specifically, the top floor of Evergreen Parking Garage,” Sungchan clarified, rolling the passenger window down.

Evergreen Parking Garage was a commuter-only parking facility, meaning that this level was empty this late at night. It was also located at the furthest reaches of the north block of campus, which bordered a nature preserve, meaning that while on one side was your university campus, the other side was entirely evergreen trees. Hence the name.

Sungchan had parked on the side that faced the nature preserve, and as you turned to question your date as to why exactly he’d taken you to campus, you were instead greeted by the sight of him hunched over to lean into the open passenger window, seemingly messing around with the audio controls of the still-running car.

You tilted your head to one side, then the other as you just watched him struggle for a moment before finally speaking up. “What uh… What are you doing, Sungchan?”

He banged his head on the frame of the window as he went to stand back up. “Fuck! Ow…”

Covering your hand to muffle your giggles, you waited patiently for him to turn around and answer you.

Still clutching his head, he said with a sheepish smile, “Just give me a sec, sorry. Technical difficulties.”

And with that, he opened the door to properly sit in the passenger seat, futzing with his phone and the car radio. Finally, there was music playing from the speakers as opposed to the radio station ads, and he turned the volume up before getting back out of the car and shutting the door. With both the driver and passenger windows rolled down, you could hear the song clearly.

“I was originally going to try to take you to this lookout, but there were other cars there, so I had to keep driving by it and oh my god why did I tell you that—” He scratched the back of his head nervously. “Anyway, since we didn’t get to dance at the party…”

Sungchan offered his hand out to you, and you set yours atop it. The upbeat song that had been playing finished just then, switching to a much slower, softer one. You stepped in closer, smiling up at him as you looped your free arm around his neck. His other hand settled on your hip, and he slowly started leading you in an uncertain sway of sorts.

You let out an airy chuckle, “Was this really the kind of dancing you had in mind for a frat party?”

“Would you believe me if I said yes?” He questioned.

“Would you believe me if I said that I believed you?”

“No.”

You snickered. “Smart man.”

“But this is good, too. Better, even.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, there’s not a bunch of other drunk, sweaty, loud people everywhere knocking into us. I don’t have to worry about somebody spilling beer on me, or other guys looking at you, or the DJ picking something bad. Or you getting a migraine.” Sungchan slotted his fingers with yours. “I just get to think about you.”

You rested your head on his chest, eyes zoning out on your linked hands. It was his right hand, so his pinky finger couldn’t quite fold down along with the others. “Yeah. I like this, too,” you agreed softly.

A cool breeze gently blew across your cheek that wasn’t resting on Sungchan’s chest, and you were glad for the warmth of him pressed against your front. Your feet awkwardly bumped into each other, making you chuckle, and he apologized with a nervous laugh.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him. “I haven’t exactly taken any ballroom dancing classes. Have you?”

“Well...”

You jerked your head back to look him in the face. “You have?”

“You know how Greek life has those formals every year?”

“You’re not in a frat...”

“No, I’m not. But freshman year, Nu Chi had pitched in for this dance teacher and— God, I can’t believe I’m telling you this,” Sungchan said regretfully, tilting his head back to look up in embarrassment.

“Sungchan, come on!” You pleaded.

“Hendery swore me to secrecy...”

“Well now you have to tell me!”

“Hendery’s date couldn’t make it to one of the lessons, so he asked me to fill in for her...”

Your jaw dropped with delight, “Was his date an Amazon? How did that work? He couldn’t have possibly dipped you! Or twirled you!”

“She was taller than him, to be fair,” he admitted. “Nothing that couldn’t be adjusted for with some thick soles, but, you know...”

“You’re such a good friend, Sungchan,” you said through a couple of giggles, imagining the two of them attempting the aforementioned twirls and dips.

He dropped his head, shaking it. “Right, thanks.”

“So I guess I should be leading then, hm?” You teased, your feet bumping his again in that moment.

“I feel like you’d lead us over the edge of this parking deck, Y/N,” he joked.

Before you could make a retort, he stepped back from you to gently twirl you around by the hand, and a cross between a surprised yelp and a laugh tumbled from your mouth. As he brought you back into his chest, you could barely think over the joyful buzzing in your head that resonated out to every square inch of your body.

“Okay, okay, I guess you can lead,” you surrendered, looping your arm back around his neck again.

After some time, the songs had picked up tempo again, but you and Sungchan were long past actually dancing to them. You were more so just holding each other, leisurely swaying, and from here you got to listen to the sounds of his breathing. He’d taken to rubbing absentminded circles into your hip with his thumb, and the fingers of your arm that was around his neck had dipped below the material of his collar, resting on his bare skin.

“Sungchan?” You murmured.

“Yes?” He responded, his voice rumbling right under your ear.

“Thank you for not making me do this in front of a bunch of other cars at the other lookout.”

He let out a couple quiet laughs, his chest shaking with each. “You’re welcome. I figured all of the teens making out in their cars also didn’t want to watch us do this either.”

You mock gasped, pretending to sound scandalized, “You were going to take me to a lover’s lookout? On the first date? Jung Sungchan…”

“Who are you, my grandma? Nobody calls it that anymore.” He pinched your side. “And only because it’s actually got a great view over the city and—”

“I’m kidding, Sungchan.” You pinched him back, lightly, on the nape of the neck. “Besides, I wouldn’t have been opposed to a trip to a lover’s lookout with you anyway…”

You heard the breath hitch in his throat, then Sungchan swallowed and inhaled through his nose, before he finally spoke, “Really?”

His grip on your hip tightened, sending a bolt of electricity along your skin out from the contact point. You brought your head out of his chest and used your arm around his neck to draw him in even closer.

“Really,” you echoed, blatantly staring at his lips now that they were centimeters away from yours. “And it looks like we’ve got our own right here.”

Then Sungchan was using his hold on your hip to push you back step by step until your back was against the side of his car. Your own arm around his neck kept him anchored to you as he stood hovering over you, blotting out any light that would’ve come from the light post above you. Your noses were almost touching, your breaths mingling in the negligible space between your mouths. You were looking at Sungchan’s eyes now, usually a warm, deep brown, now all inky blackness in the dark of night, and staring down at your own mouth. Your tongue instinctually darted out to wet your lips, and that seemed to be the final straw.

His mouth on yours was desperate, but not desperate to get laid, like your previous lover’s lookout banter might imply. Like he was just desperate for you. He stole kiss after kiss from your lips, but never forced his tongue into your mouth, nor moved his hands anywhere else. Despite leaning more and more of his weight forward onto you, utterly pinning you to the car, he kept his bruising grip on your hip and never let go of your hand.

You parted your mouth with a bedraggled gasp of his name, and he finally took this as an invite to slip his tongue into the mix. You shifted to rest the hand that was laced with his above your head, on the roof of the sedan, giving his hand a squeeze. He squeezed your hand back.

Turning your head and breaking the kiss, you hoped he’d get the idea as you continued laying there half-spread out under him. He did, thankfully, kissing from the corner of your mouth across your cheek and down your jaw and neck.

“Sung…chan…” You breathed out his name, stroking the back of his head with your free hand as his lips latched onto a spot at the base of your neck.

Trailing your hand down further, you snuck it up under the hem of his shirt, feeling over the expanse of his chest and stomach. Oh fuck yeah, hockey players. You pulled the article of clothing up towards his head insistently, and he detached from your neck for the two of you to jointly strip him of it. Oh fuck yeah, hockey players. You truly didn’t know if he looked or felt better, but you couldn’t ogle him for long, because he was back on top of you as soon as he’d thrown the shirt into the front seat via the open passenger window beside you. His lips were so warm on yours, his skin even hotter under your touch now as you unabashedly felt up every inch of it and the muscles underneath.

But soon that wasn’t enough either, and you were fumbling at his pants button. He groaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating down into your own chest, as his hand snapped around your wrist.

“Ahh…” He hissed regretfully.

“What?” You looked up at him with wide eyes.

“I can’t get my dick out in public.”

You glanced at the car behind you, with its tinted windows, then back at Sungchan. He met your eyes, then shrugged. “That’ll work.”

It was a mad scramble to get the door to the backseat open, so much so that you accidentally smacked Sungchan in the leg with said door. After lots of apologies through giggles, both of you were in the backseat with the doors closed and locked. Sungchan had the task of awkwardly reaching forward over the console to roll the windows back up first, during which you made a couple observations about his backseat, which you hadn’t seen much of before. His practice bag for hockey was back here—which was different than his gear bag, as you’d already been told. The gear bag actually had his equipment that he needed to play with like mouth guards, sticks, and all of that, while his practice bag had more personal stuff like changes of clothes or hygiene products. You figured his gear bag was either in the trunk or at the rink, as he didn’t always need to carry it back and forth with him. But other than the practice bag and a couple of reusable grocery bags on the floor, the backseat was pretty clean. You were genuinely impressed, especially because he made it sound like he tended to chauffeur a lot of his teammates/roommates around frequently.

Sungchan eventually reentered the backseat fully, focusing a content, closed-lip smile on you. You’d taken it upon yourself to lay down on the seat, your knees propped up by your feet. He settled in to kneel on the same cushion as your feet, but just rested an arm on your knees and his chin atop that forearm to gaze down at you, still smiling.

“What? What’s that smile for?” You asked, starting to feel a bit self-conscious.

“Nothing, I just—” He reached both his hands out towards you, fingers spread, and you got the idea, linking yours with them. “I hope you don’t get the wrong idea. I want this to be a real thing, Y/N. Like, I don’t just want to sleep with you. I don’t even do this kind of stuff—car sex on the first date in a campus parking garage?—literally ever. I’m just kinda crazy about you. I know for most people usually it’s the opposite; you know, they save it for later for really important people. They try to make it special, but I know it’ll be special just because it’s you.”

“Sungchan... I’ve never done something like this either,” you admitted, squeezing both of his hands tight. “I think I’m just kinda crazy about you too.”

“Okay. Cool.” He beamed at you, and you felt your insides turn to mush in that moment. You didn’t think they’d ever un-mush again.

“Now can you please take my clothes off before I spontaneously combust?”

“Fuck. Yeah.” He nodded, immediately turning serious as his brow furrowed and he leaned forward to lock his lips with yours again, propping himself up with one hand to hover above you.

You let your knees fall apart to give him room to settle in between your legs. He pulled at your jacket first, and you sat up to help yank it off, dropping it to the floor with his practice bag. With you no longer laying down, he could use two hands to get the next part, your top. His fingertips skimmed along your skin as he grabbed the hem. You broke the kiss so he could start pulling the clothing up your body—

A loud knock against the driver’s side window quite literally made you scream, and Sungchan jerked up and hit his head once again, this time on the roof of the car. You tugged your shirt back down to cover you, ducking to lay flat on the seat as Sungchan looked at you with panic in his eyes.

Another knock came at the window, this time accompanied by a man’s voice, “Campus security! Roll the window down or I’m going to ask you to turn the car off and step out!”

“Just a second!” Sungchan yelled back, a noticeable crack in his voice. He had a difficult time maneuvering his lanky body over the console fully into the driver’s seat again.

“Now!” The man called out again. “Three! Two!”

Sungchan didn’t have time to put on his shirt before ‘one,’ and he rushed to roll the window down. A flashlight was immediately shone into the car, and you didn’t doubt your own visibility to the security officer. You were remaining laying down for your own mental wellbeing at this point. You didn’t think that you could deal with looking this man in the eye right now.

You didn’t know if it was wisdom or embarrassment that kept your date from saying anything, but he thankfully didn’t speak until spoken to, not offering up any incriminating information. After five entire seconds of silence, the officer let out an audible sigh.

“No overnight parking in this garage,” he said, his tone making it very clear that he knew that was not what was going on. “I’ll be back in five minutes and if you’re still here, you’re getting a ticket.”

“Yes, sir,” Sungchan replied.

“I’m sure that the captain of our hockey team wouldn’t want to get put on probation at the beginning of the season.”

“N-No, sir.” His voice cracked again.

The security officer grunted, but said nothing more. You heard Sungchan roll the window back up, then the sound of another car driving away. Slowly, Sungchan turned around to look at you over the console with wide, horrified eyes.

“He knew who I was…” He whispered. “That was the most terrifying 45 seconds of my life.”

“You’re famous, Sungchan,” you teased, sitting up in the backseat now that the coast was clear.

“Yeah, and fame has got so many perks so far.”

“Almost got into your first scandal already.” You clicked your tongue disapprovingly. “Caught with a girl in your backseat. What will the fans say?”

“Considering my fans are all frat bros, probably something along the lines of wolf whistles and incoherent, congratulatory lewd jeering.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, able to picture that perfectly considering you’d already gotten a taste at the first home game you’d gone to. “Sounds about right.”

“Anyway, I should take you home before that guy comes back.”

“Good idea.” You slipped your jacket back on.

“Are you going to come up here or am I your chauffeur?”

“I suppose I’ll sit up there with you,” you sighed, opening the backseat to get out and into the front normally since there was no security man around.

Back in the passenger seat, you handed Sungchan’s shirt back to him, “Here, have some decency. You’re the captain of the hockey team, you know.”

“I’m sorry, who was going to spontaneously combust if we didn’t get naked in the next 0.2 seconds?” He scoffed, pulling his top back on.

“I don’t recall.”

“Sure.”

“And who’s still hard in their jeans right now?”

“Don’t remind me, I have to drive like this,” he groaned, taking the car out of park with a shake of his head.

As Sungchan drove with one hand, the other reached over to take yours, lacing his fingers together with yours.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 6

Just a few days later, and you were at the rink again, eagerly watching the hockey game in front of you. Chenle was beside you, continuing his constant sports commentary on every play that happened. You still mostly tuned it out, but you were pretty sure you at least understood most of the basic rules that Taeyong had explained to you before. You kept your eyes on Sungchan, cheering him on along with the other various Nu Chi brothers around you and other fans in the stands. It wasn’t as full of a house as it had been for the first home game, but you were perfectly content to have a slightly quieter environment.

Sungchan happened to skate by your section as everyone was resetting their positions, giving you a wave through the clear barrier. You gave him a slightly bashful but nevertheless bright grin as you waved back.

“So are you two like... dating now?” Hendery asked from your other side, leaned forward with both of his elbows on his knees as he watched the game. He looked back at you over his shoulder with a shit-eating grin, though, one that made you roll your eyes.

“I don’t know. We’ve been on a date. I mean, there was the Halloween party, but I got a migraine so I don’t think that really counts, so— I don’t have to explain myself to you!” You scowled at him, shoving him away by his shoulder.

He laughed as he let himself get jostled around in his seat from the push, holding his hands up in surrender. “Just curious. Unlike your bestie over there, I think you two are adorable.”

“What?” You looked over at Chenle, who Hendery had pointed at.

Chenle had apparently been listening enough to be able to jump in to defend himself. “It’s not what it sounds like. I think you two are great, promise.”

You turned back to your other friend. “Then what the hell are you talking about, Hendery?”

“He just doesn’t want to lose,” the Nu Chi member explained. “I pegged Sungchan’s huge crush on you on day 1 of Dr. Son’s class. Once the Phanta Phour stuff started, I knew that boy had no chance. Chenle just didn’t think you’d ever... hold on, how’d he put it... be into uh, ‘Neanderthal frat-bro-in-law types.’”

“I was maybe a bit tipsy...” Chenle added in.

“So you made a bet on if Sungchan and I would get together? In four whole years?” You looked from left to right between them.

“Loser has to buy winner a 12-pack,” Hendery confirmed with that same grin. “When Phantasmagorical Phriday ended this year, I really thought I’d lost. But then you turned up at the game last week and I figured Sungchan just might score himself a buzzer beater.”

“You two need to get better hobbies,” you declared with a snort.

“This so counts as sudden-death OT, but whatever,” Chenle scoffed under his breath.

You smacked him across the chest. “And don’t call my dating life ‘sudden death’ either.”

“Hey.” He said softly, grabbing your arm, and you turned your head to meet his gaze. “I really was worried about you going to the Halloween party with your head. I swear.”

“I know, LeLe,” you nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. “You did some great wingmanning once we got there.”

The brief flash of sincerity you got from your best friend was over as quick as it had come, as you heard the crash of helmets on the ice, and both your focuses were drawn back to the game. Two players had collided into each other and the clear barrier right in front of your faces. You grimaced sympathetically as you tried to identify the player from your team. 23— Jeno, ah, he’d be alright. And you were right, he took off almost immediately as the other guy was left behind still dazed.

At the end of the game, with the buzz of another win in your veins and the anticipation of seeing Sungchan thrumming along your skin, you bounced on your heels as you waited in the lobby. You weren't paying attention to the ecstatic, dramatic recollections that Chenle and the Nu Chi brothers were giving of specific plays around you, your gaze entirely focused on the locker room exit.

The very first player to leave was Sungchan, his eyes already scanning the crowd. Without a second thought, you darted over to him, ignoring the couple of whoops and whistles you two got from your friends.

Sungchan beamed down at you as he went to pull you into a hug, and you were immediately enveloped in the smell of the freshly washed clothes that you’d caught last time. This time, though, there was the distinct, crisp smell of ice rink ice under it as well, reminding you of when you’d go ice skating with friends.

“Hey,” you smiled up at him as he let you go, but didn’t step back very far. “You played really good again. I’m pretty sure. A bit more sure than I was last time.”

He was still grinning, looking down at the floor then back up at you before he responded, “Thank you. And I don’t really expect you to become a hockey pro or anything if all that doesn’t interest you. As long as you don’t expect me to remember what death of the author is.”

“This was only my second game, have some faith in me!” You cried out indignantly. “And no, I don’t expect you to become a full-blown literary critic either.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he apologized through a couple of poorly suppressed giggles. “I do believe in you. I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to learn boring sports stuff for me.”

“I do want to be able to follow the basics of a game without Chenle or Taeyong annotating it for me, at least.”

“Oh, yeah, you can definitely do that. Might need to come to a few more games, though...”

You nodded giddily. “Just let me know when the home games are and I’m there.”

“Yo!” A voice had called from the gaggle of guys heading towards the exit. You didn’t even realize that the rest of the team had left the locker room in the time that you’d been talking to Sungchan.

While you couldn’t tell who had gotten your attention, it was Donghyuck that asked, “Are you two coming or are you just going to keep making moony eyes at each other all night?”

“Yeah, Sungchan, you’re our ride!” Yangyang yelled out from somewhere.

“DD!” Jeno cheered.

“I’ll drive you two,” Mark offered with a shake of his head.

“Shotgun!” The two of them immediately dibs-ed in unison.

“Sorry, bitches, I’m his little,” Donghyuck declared. “That means eternal dibs on shotgun in Mark’s car.”

The frat president scoffed, “You only give a shit about that when it directly benefits you.”

“You guys go ahead,” Sungchan cut into their bickering. “We’re right behind you.”

After they had all filed out, he looked back down at you, a nervous smile worming across his face. “Sorry about that...”

“It’s okay,” you said. “So... you ready to go?”

The two of you had already discussed going to the after-game celebrations with the team before this. Sungchan texted you last night to check in and make sure you’d be okay with going from the loud game to a noisy bar/pool hall with a bunch of frat guys after. You’d assured him that you’d be okay as long as you sat away from any music speakers at the bar, and he’d in turn made you promise to tell him if you needed to leave early.

However, he now halted you as you were slowly turning towards the exit. “Wait, I want to try this again.”

With a sneaking suspicion of what he was about to do, you assured him, “Sungchan, you don’t have to—”

“Let me do this. Please.” He gave you those same eyes that had convinced you to go to a frat party in the first place, and you were squaring your shoulders back to face him, giving him a firm nod.

“Okay. Go for it.”

He asked casually, “So, did you drive yourself?”

You had to hold back a laugh, covering your mouth to straighten your face before replying coyly, “Oh, me? I walked. My apartment is close.”

“So, the team all goes out to this bar after home games. It’s a pretty sleazy dive bar, and I know it’s a Thursday night, but I’d really like for you to come with me. I’ll buy you a... soda.”

“I would love to come, Sungchan,” you giggled, adjusting your purse strap.

“Awesome,” he grinned, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

As you walked up to the passenger side of his car with him, you suddenly realized something. “Wait, did you have your car last time, too?”

“Maybe?” He rubbed the back of his neck, reaching for the door handle to open it for you.

“Then why did you walk me home?”

“To spend more time with you?”

You stole a quick kiss before ducking into the passenger seat.

Squished into one side of a booth with Sungchan’s arm around you, you chatted happily with Chenle, Ten, and Sicheng, who were sitting opposite from you. The team and cheer section were spread out between a couple booths and tables near each other, a few of them up playing pool too. You sipped on your soda between discussions about tonight’s game, upcoming games, classes, or whatever else struck you all. Currently, you were locked in a conversation with Ten about the most recent assigned reading in a class that you two shared together this semester.

“I thought that scene had a lot of great allusions back to the earlier one with her mother and the pie baking,” you gushed.

“Really?” Ten tilted his head curiously. “I was seeing it more as a continuation of the cannibalism-sex-love metaphor, since they were eating figs, you know.”

You nodded knowingly. “That’s true. Everything’s about sex—”

“Except sex.” You two finished quoting your professor in unison.

“And then with figs, there’s the Bible interpretation, of course,” you continued.

“Always the Bible.”

“We can never escape what John Milton did for Christian fanfiction, truly.”

“But I do like the pie scene connection the more that I think about it, actually.” Ten knocked back the rest of his cocktail. “And, tying her mother into the cannibalism metaphor could be a fascinating angle, too.”

Your eyes widened as you were practically vibrating your seat with excitement now. “Yeah, her earliest memory being of food, parental love, and harm...”

“Anyway, I need a refill.” Your friend shook his glass of ice with a smile. “Be back. Good chat as always, Y/N.”

Chenle and Sicheng scooted out of the booth to let Ten out, the former heading off towards the restrooms while the co-captain followed his roommate to the bar, leaving just you and Sungchan. You continued musing over the new connections you’d just made in the text as you turned your gaze back over to Sungchan beside you. He was already looking at you, a fond half-smile on his face.

“Hi.” He said quietly.

“Hi,” you replied, just as quiet.

Sungchan took a swig of his drink, then eyed yours. “You haven’t drunk any water since we get here.”

He’d been sure to not only order your promised soda of choice, but also water, and as you now looked over at your two cups, you could tell that the water had not been touched at all while the soda was practically empty.

“Oh uh, I guess I haven’t.”

“Drink some.” He pushed it towards you insistently. “Can’t have you getting kidney stones on my watch.”

“Okay, okay.” You acquiesced easily, switching your straw over to that glass and chugging a quarter of it in one go. “Better?”

“Much.” He nodded in satisfaction. “So what were you and Ten saying about pies and sex or whatever? Sex isn’t about sex?”

“Oh, it’s just something one of our professors says a lot. ‘Everything is about sex except sex.’ For lit analysis. In literature, pretty much everything is about sex. Or can be. You can turn like, anything in a piece of text into an innuendo or euphemism if you wanted to. Except for sex. Like, if a sex scene is included in a piece of literature, it’s not actually about the sex that’s being depicted. The sex is meant to represent something else. Like politics, or social structures, or whatever other themes are present in the work. Unless you’re just reading porn. But even then, there’s artistic merit to erotica, and plenty to be learned about the social structures at the time it was written, too.”

Sungchan hadn’t blinked the entire time you’d been rambling on, and upon you finally stopping, blinked in rapid succession as he seemed to come to from a daze. “Wow. Uh, interesting. Filing that away with death of the author.”

“Sungchan...” You leaned in to whisper, placing a hand on the inside of his thigh, just above his knee. His leg jumped, knocking his knee into the tabletop. Your hand had narrowly avoided being smashed too, saved only by its position curled around his leg instead of directly on top. You didn’t move it up or down now though, simply tapping your index finger against the loose material of his sweatpants as you giggled. “What are you thinking about?”

He cleared his throat a couple of times. “How you still have three-quarters of that glass of water left to drink.”

You laughed, slumping to relax into his side and pulling your hand back up to a more casual position on top of his leg. With your other hand, you grabbed your water. “Alright, fine.”

Not too long after your water had been drained, Sungchan was driving you home. Some of your other friends had taken off as well, and you didn't put up too much of a protest when he offered. As your familiar building came into view, you suddenly remembered something.

“Oh, visitor’s parking is over there. Sorry, forgot to mention before.” You pointed to a few parking spots painted with yellow lines instead of white, further away from the apartment entrances than the resident parking. “They’re a bit picky. Chenle got towed after like, five minutes one time.”

“Got it. Thanks.” Sungchan smoothly turned the wheel to pull into one of the open visitor’s spots.

Your reason for showing it to him was two-fold. One, to let him know you hoped he’d be coming over more often, so he’d need that information for future reference. And two, for perhaps less innocent ulterior motives tonight. Truly, your apartment complex only towed people after dark. Overnight visitors. Chenle’s five-minute tow had been a fluke.

“I’ll walk you to your door,” he said with no prompting, and you had to hold in a sigh of relief.

Instead, you gave him a genuine smile. “Thanks, Sungchan.”

“I don’t think I thanked you for coming tonight. To the game.” He slowly meandered up the sidewalk with you, hand holding yours.

“Thanks for inviting me again. I had a lot of fun.” You squeezed his hand.

Your front door loomed in the not-so-distant distance.

“Uh, are you busy this weekend?” He rushed to ask. “I have Saturday morning practice, at 7:30, but it’s over at 9:00, and after that I’m free.”

So that’s why he had texted you at seven in the morning to congratulate you on winning Phantasmagorical Phriday.

“No, I’m not busy. I’d love to do something, just pick from the list I sent you. Surprise me, hm?”

“Will do.”

You were finally on your front welcome mat, and watched his face fall as he seemed to be drawing a blank about how else to prolong your night. But you had an idea.

You didn’t let an alarm or anything else possibly have the chance to interrupt you, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling his mouth down to yours. He stumbled forward at you suddenly yanking him off-balance, catching himself with one hand on your front door and the other on your doorframe. Then, he dropped a hand to the small of your back, drawing you in even closer as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss.

Disconnected just enough to murmur against his lips, you asked, “Do you want to come in?”

“Please?” He replied with a nearly sheepish chuckle.

“So polite,” you quipped.

You gave him one more peck before turning around to unlock your door and drag him in by the arm.

➠ sequel | series masterlist | blog masterlist

720 notes · View notes

nonameindividual · 2 months

Text

The new chapters as good as ever😔💝.

And the scene has been living in my head rent free ajdbak so i drew a headcanon of them maybe when everything has ended happily and then they are together ahah

Anyway hope you are doing great, @hyperbloomreset ^^

I love them aakbdjs

Link to fic!

#tighnari #genshin impact #Isekai Don’t Exist You’re just Trapped in a Social Experiment #tighnari x reader #fanfic #fanart #I hope they have a happy ending… right?

122 notes · View notes

sylvainahyperfixation · 6 months

Text

Your life is mine. Accept your inheritance, or I will reclaim it.

I'd rather die.

---

you know what i thought was REALLY WEIRD. this has been living rent free in my head ever since my first durge playthrough but. (spoilers ahead) minthara's so on board with you being a slayer and taking bhaal's legacy just because she thinks you should take any power available to you. of course in my playthrough i was like holy shit she would LOVE IT she called me her slayer, we're fucking doing it!!! but as you have that convo with bhaal you come to the slow realization that you'll just be his pawn forever - surely your life is worth more, surely you'd want more than doing some shitty god's bidding forever, father or not...i had a moment where i was like, im sorry minthara but i can't choose this. so i chose to defy him. and of course he kills you, withers shows up blah blah.

but.

we KNOW from minthara's characterization (for example in her ending with karlach) she doesn't want her love to die and she would rather jump headfirst into hell to fight against it. she'll never accept it or understand it. i just refuse to believe that if she knew what the consequences were for going down this path (the ending is quite linear and it's canonically Bad) she'd advise you to take the power.

but that's not really even what i was unsatisfied with - let's just say regardless of reasoning it all does happen the way it happened in my playthrough - there's no scene where she (or any other companion you're romancing as durge for that matter from what i've read online) actually reacts to the fact that you DIED. if withers wasnt a bro you'd be permadead. okay, no cutscene? maybe we can have some durge romance specific dialogue...? nope.

anyways larian PLEASE i know she'd be devastated i just want to hear her say no power is worth losing you /sob

#bg3 #minthara #durge #art dump #i know it wasnt all that bloody when he just snaps your entire body #but there's no way you didnt just like internally explode somehow

72 notes · View notes

mayhemchicken-artblog · 1 month

Note

i am. OBSESSED. with ur jonathan harker. particularly his hair. it's so lovely. also i binged the league of extraordinary gentlefolk yesterday and the scene with the knife!!!! with dr. kemp! lives rent-free in my head.

anyway. do u have a favorite jonathan moment? from dracula or lxgf, either one

aw thank you! jonathan's hair has undergone extensive evolution over the time i've been drawing him but i've always enjoyed drawing the curly bang

my favorite jonathan moment in lxgf is probably [redacted] in episode 2 or maybe [redacted] in episode 8

#not art #ask #lxgf #jonathan harker #(this is a cop-out answer but the thing is:#a. i'm very indecisive #b. whenever anyone asks me an open-ended question i lose all my memories of everything i know #c. i like being a saucy little tease about future lxgf stuff #to that end: see-arcane is the writer for episode 8 #;)

20 notes · View notes

strqyr · 28 days

Note

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, Ik Sacrifice wasn’t exactly written to be Raven’s theme but it’s kinda crazy how well it fits her. Like yes, it’s vague enough that it could apply to Cinder or Salem, this is not a new discussion at all. But the line “the moon will sadly watch the roses die in vain, lost no gain, but you're not taking me” hits harder after the flashback we got in V9

yeah, 'sacrifice' is definitely... it's one of those songs, ya know? doesn't really strike as For This Character Only. it has range; it plays during the V2 credits, which were in part preceded with team rwby not having answers on who the Mystery Girl™ on the train was (which. only really leaves either raven or neo, but they've already met neo before, so...?) and followed by the after credits scene that fully reveals raven; but, as a leitmotif it has only appeared in two scenes, at least based on this video.

"the moon will sadly watch the roses die in vain, lost no gain, but you're not taking me" definitely hits harder, especially when 'when it falls', the next song in line as the V3 opening, has lines like these:

"there'll be no rest. there'll be no love. there'll be no hero in the end who will rise above. and when it ends, the good will crawl. the shining light will sink in darkness, victory for hate incarnate, misery and pain for all when it falls." // "swallowed by the darkness, soon the moon is bathed in black. the light of hope is taken and discontent is the contagion."

and more from 'sacrifice': "you can't have my life, i'm not your sacrifice. you can try, but i'm free, and you won't conquer me. i won't crawl, most of all, i won't fall for you."

like. this paint such a vivid picture of what might have happened on summer's mission: perhaps she fell into a grimm pool trying to fight salem (or someone else, idk) -> "the shining light will sink in darkness // swallowed by the darkness // the light of hope is taken" and in raven's mind, it was all pointless: "the moon will sadly watch the roses die in vain, lost no gain // there'll be no hero in the end who will rise above." and that while the good (summer) will crawl and fall, she won't. she will be free of it all, not wanting anything to do with either ozpin or salem.

and if ozpin, without outright saying it but left it up in the air, allowed all of team strq to think that silver eyes were the answer, that summer could end it all and take the fight up to salem if given an opportunity—though i'm certain had he known about summer's intentions, or if summer actually brought it up with him first, his answer would have been a strong "No"—, well. you've got your potential 'sacrifice' angle right there, because that's how it easily comes across; ozpin willing to risk a life of a silver-eyed warrior for a chance to defeat salem without properly informing them what it is they're really up against.

anyway. after all these years, 'sacrifice' continues to live in my head rent-free. amazing song. hopefully we'll get the answers to it one day lmao

#rwby #paradox-oflife #ask.strqyr

17 notes · View notes

anarchy-and-piglins · 12 days

Note

just hopping off "first fic i read from you" here, mine was "I Will Come Around When the Time for Sleep Is Through". it made such an impact on me, physically changed my brain chemistry, like wow. idk how many times i've reread it but MAN i love the premise and the writing and the everything so so so much. it's bby techno but also angst and the scene where tommy and phil go to the graves and the lines "theyre not dead but theyre still gone" and "phil would have told him how tired he was of losing everything that mattered" !!! living RENT FREE IN MY HEAD i tell you. RENT FREE.

i just. i love explorations of grief and like, how do you mourn someone who's technically still there but not really? how much of someone consists of memories & experiences, if those are wiped away are they really who they were before? and the characterization of how self-sacrificial techno is bc he seems to feel like he's the same in every lifetime (but he also doesn't deal with the emotional aftermath) but for phil, not so much bc he's the one who has to grieve by himself every time while also raising a toddler who's kind-of-maybe-used-to-be his best friend. ALSO the way phil's lived centuries and techno's never made it past 25 which speaks to so much loss, and how phil wishes techno would choose himself for once but idk if he would ever tell him that, you know? and even if so, if techno would actually ever choose himself because hes so undyingly loyal to the people he loves.

anyways. yeah.

i didn't have an ao3 account back then, i saved fics in my browser bookmarks like a maniac and i checked them every day. i remember VIVIDLY being so excited whenever i found an update for this one. now i stay updated via email notifs, which i gotta say, takes a lot less time. long story short <3333

Ah, this brings back some memories. How weird it feels to know I wrote that fic a good 3 years ago now. That's how long I've been obsessed with Techno... I have mixed feelings towards my old fics (I have mixed feelings towards all of my own writing lol, every artist is their own worst critic I guess) but there are some parts of that fic I really do still like a lot, the handling of grief is one of them. I'm glad it resonated with you so much, Anon. I think writing something that sticks with a person even years after they read it is every author's big dream, so I'm very honoured <3

#asks #compliment bin #kissing you on the forehead ty for this <3 #And for sticking around that long wow

15 notes · View notes

primewritessmut · 4 months

Note

Ooooh can you talk about the Royal AU WIP? Love your writing btw!!

Love your art! 🤝

Ahhhh! This one!

This is one of those wips that's mostly in my head right now with a nominal placeholder in my docs that says things like "antagonists to lovers" and "knight mobius + prince loki". It has been sprouting from a seed that was planted during a conversation with @punch-love about a He Speaks Daggers comment on what Mobius gets out of his relationship with Loki.

I think Mobius is the sort of character that's loyal down to his bones when he really believes in something. (Canonically I think the TVA filled that space for him, but poorly. And that Loki fills that space for him much more fully.) And I wanted to explore that in a different setting.

THE STORY SO FAR:

Mobius is conscripted as Loki's personal royal guard bc there's SOMETHING SOMETHING happening that puts him at increased danger. Mobius sees Loki as sort of this bit of frippery, just a prince with an empty head that wears nice clothes and fucks, but he's loyal to the Queen/King (??) so he takes his assignment seriously. Obviously this puts them IN PROXIMITY and Mobius gets a chance to see Loki in a different light. Ultimately, he becomes loyal to Loki alone and BLAH BLAH BLAH YADA YADA YADA worship kink, happy ending.

A lot of this outline is loosely based on a book I read called A Taste of Gold and Iron by Alexandra Rowley which isn't strictly Lokius-coded, but lives inside my brain rent-free always. There's a scene in that book where Evemer (the guard) declares his loyalty to his prince and the way I had to close the book and fan myself. 😮‍💨

Anyway, it's down the list a little bit, but definitely one I want to chip away at this year!

#wip ask game #lokius #royal au #fanfic #man every time i have to think about that loyalty scene from #a taste of gold and iron #i need to go take a cold shower

24 notes · View notes

justarandomhelluvablog · 7 months

Text

alright it's official I'm rooting for Ozzie/Fizz/Blitz/Stolas polycule 👍

"You've lived rent-free in Fizz' head for years, so I can't help feel he values your take on things." - Ozzie going to Blitz for backup

"Well, my special skills are killing things without giving fucks and pointing out people's flaws... alright, count me in!" - Blitz being Blitz

"Come on, it's just like old times. I'll make sure no one gives you shit today." || "You mean besides you?" -Blitz & Fizz banter gives me life

Fizz covering Blitz' ass after Blitz insults Mammon, love that

Also another Fizz-Blitz banter moment: "He thinks he's funny." || "Offended." (Fizz & Blitz, respectively)

the ATTITUDE. Blitz coming in with the comeback and Fizz changing up his posture/attitude to match Blitz', just. Them.

He protect 🥺 but also the fact that he didn't kill this guy right here for everyone to see after seeing Fizz' expression hh

Blitz is so gentle with him now that they've made up I love him. We all know he's a softie underneath but ya know, ya love to see it

Don't have a screenshot for this bc it's a whole scene but can we talk about how before, Blitz claimed Fizz didn't have to try for anything, but in this episode Fizz is saying how he needs to do this to prove he's still good enough and Blitz (as well as Ozzie) are telling him he doesn't need to prove anything? Just. Ugh, THEM.

(also Fizz finally calling Blitz "Blitz" and not "Blitzo" I'm hhhh)

"That guy is a fucking dick, and he's USING you for everything, 'cause you're likeable, and he's a fucking trashfire."

Blitz' absolute worry when Fizz runs.....

Unrelated to Blitz and Fizz' relationship, are we gonna. Uh. Talk about how Fizz' scars aren't pure white? Blitz' are but Fizz' aren't (Blitz' scars are the same color as Fizz' foundation). I assume it's a stylistic choice to show that he hides his "undesired" markings here (the makeup comes off and shows his original markings, and having the area around it be different from his makeup better shows what's going on) and they're actually the same color but I thought it was interesting. Also the black of his horns is super faded out so...

And of course that whole scene with Ozzie was heart melting but enough people talk about that, so moving on-

FIZZ' SONG. God it was so good. And Mammon just dancing along... beautiful. Fizz quitting so publicly, YESSSS KING.

Anyway this

I hope we see more of them honestly. Blitz becoming Fizz' go-to bodyguard/Blitz just sitting in the rafters of his shows waiting for someone to be Weird™ would be so fun actually. But also probably the first time Fizz has been so DELIGHTED to see Blitz kill someone they are everything to me.

Again I would need a whole video but Fizz ripping his clothes as he goes as he sings his "I fucking quit" song, I hope it means we get to see him out of the clown costume/persona (tbh it would delight me if he ditches it for good, ripping it up isn't very good symbolism if you're just gonna put it back on again). I want to see more of who he genuinely is <3

VERY sad it took Fizz so long to finally see/understand what Blitz saw immediately. Wonder if things would have been different if Blitz had just... told Fizz what he really thought of Mammon when they were younger. If Blitz' opinion mattered so much... of course, maybe he did. It would explain why if Mammon was the one to separate them.

just them <3

"So, uh.... who tops?"

This is so funny but also Ozzie's smile I love that. They all know the answer.

#helluva boss #spoilers #fizzarolli #blitzo #Ozzie #poly bitch just wants them to all hold hands sorry not sorry

37 notes · View notes

pinkandpurple360 · 4 months

Note

…so when we getting the thread focusing on fizzarolli’s feelings for blitzo 👀 i think blitzo’s feelings are pretty consistently acknowledged by the fandom but less so fizz

Blitzøs really aren’t acknowledged because this fandom saw him say “oh you two are an item?? Well congrats you hypocrites”

And they thought it was about stolas. That he was mad on stolas’ behalf.

Girl. No. He was jealous of Fizz, remember the guy he asked for a kiss from after he already knows he has a thing with the rooster? And hypocrisy is clearly about Moxxies song, his friend who he stood up for.

Anyways, fizz? Hasn’t been in the show enough for me to know for sure but two lines stick out to me

“Last time I checked your love life is a pile of shit” — uhh fizz?? What do you mean you checked?

“Can we talk about something other than my sex life?” — again Fizz, you’re a little obsessed. And why are you so disgusted by blitz being with the Prince at Ozzies? What’s it to you?

The line “you’ve lived rent free in fizz’s head for years” seems to me like he saw him as some kind of nemesis and was 100% keeping tabs on him constantly. He was the one who he reached out to when burnt and even when he thought he did it he said “why didn’t you come see me, even once wouldve been fine!” That’s pretty heartbreaking. Like he doesn’t want to ask for too much from him, he would have taken anything. If he just saw his face once he’d be ok. And being told that blitz didn’t care and did that to him on purpose seems to have permanently scarred him mentally. You don’t just bounce back from that. Cause it seems like that negligence is sooo contradictory to the careful way he always treated him.

Ozzie says “he values your take on things” is something Ozzie noticed but Fizz doesn’t even notice himself. Kinda mirrors the exchange they had when he said “as if I give a shit what you think” “you always cared what I thought”

It’s not like he’s important to him or anything😗 baka

Sorry.

But another way this came back again was when he asked Blitz “do you think I could win if I worked really hard?” And he replies “I think if anyone’s gonna be the new clown face on everything it’ll be you fizz” and he just lights up 🥺 that whole scene was my favourite part of the episode

In part of my thread I also talked about how Ozzie kinda seems to have replaced the role blitzø used to have in his life. His best friend, his performance partner, the person who keeps the creeps away from him, the one who gives him gentle reassurance and helps him out in their dressing room (I’m inferring there) they just seem very samey. The way the show framed it is that Blitzø loves fizz just as much as Ozzie does.

Fizz doesn’t really talk a lot about love if you really notice? Crooked was Ozzie professing his love for fizz really. And Fizz is mostly fixated on “not losing” they could have made some references to the life he lost but they never do, they only talk about not losing Asmodeus. But I think we can put 2 and 2 together that the trauma of losing everyone and thinking his “bestie/hero/enemy/sortve friend” hated him, is what makes him cling so hard. Plus the fanart and likes have more or less confirmed that he felt the same way. If he didn’t it wouldn’t be half as tragic.

But in the end what’s the story here? Yeah two inseparable friends in poverty and low class were in love, a horrible fire burned them when one couldn’t confess to the other. Then everyone conspired to keep them apart. The guy who purchased one of them as a childhood toy buys him again as a sex toy, and the other kid is saved from his disability and abuse by another rich guy who makes sex dolls of him….why all this imagery of chains and ropes and dolls??

Also the whole idea of rich men saving you from your struggles bothers me even if stolas loses everything it changed nothing.

#helluva boss #blitzfizz

28 notes · View notes

lady-pug · 1 year

Text

i'm in love (with an uptown girl) - Part I

Summary: In which Dustin is sure about your feelings for Eddie and Eddie's for Chrissy, but maybe he doesn't know the two of you as well as he thinks he does.

Pairing: Chrissy Cunningham x Reader

Word count: 5k

Warnings: mentions of period typical homophobia

Notes: I may or may not have accidentally fallen in love with Grace Van Dien and, consequently, Chrissy Cunningham. Chrissy was such a good character and she had so much unexplored potential, I wish we could have seen more of her.

This was supposed to be a one-shot turned into a two-shot turned into a three-shot when I realized how long it was getting. The title references Billy Joel’s ‘Uptown Girl’, a song Grace herself has mentioned would probably be Chrissy’s 'Vecna song', so I went with that.

Also also, I know renting ‘Return Of The Jedi’ means absolutely nothing (I myself used to rent Star Wars DVDs in a completely random order when I was younger, would just rent out the one I was in the mood for). I just used that whole interaction in order to help plant the seed about Chrissy, much like the series did with the ‘Fast Times’ scene about Vickie (as a kid I didn’t truly understand the purpose of having Leia wearing that in particular, both in terms of inside the universe and out, but now I do and I don’t like it).

Anyway, that was just me ranting, sorry about that! I really hope you enjoy this story, and if you spot any mistakes, please feel free to warn me and I'll correct it right away, and feedback is always welcome and appreciated.

Reader is female, but no physical descriptions provided

Reader's gender not specified

Next part | Masterlist | Read on AO3

“She’s so pretty, isn’t she?”

“W-what?” your head snapped up so quickly you were scared you might have pulled a muscle, prompting the boys at the table to snicker.

“I said” Gareth emphasized, a smirk hanging from his lips “that she’s so pretty, isn’t she, Eddie?”

Said boy, who had been staring off into space and just so happened to have his head turned towards the jocks and cheerleaders’ table, snapped out of his trance almost as quickly as you had a few minutes prior.

“Who?” he seemed as confused as you felt.

“Chrissy Cunningham?” Jeff asked, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Your heart, the poor bastard, clenched painfully inside your chest at the mention of the blonde’s name.

“Yeah, I mean… sure.” Eddie waved his hands dismissively.

“Come oooon!” Gareth, who had been sitting to the left of Eddie, whined and poked him in the ribs “We all know you’ve had heart eyes for her since, like, 8th grade man. No need to pretend otherwise.”

“Guys…” Dustin’s eyes darted towards you, a concerned frown on his lips.

“I don’t have a crush on Chrissy Cunningham?” Eddie answered, although it came out more of a question, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Dude, seriously? You think we haven’t noticed the way you stare at her at every chance you get? Especially when she’s wearing that cute cheerleading dress?” Grant spoke up, Gareth, Jeff and Mike snickering with him.

“Guys…” Dustin tried interrupting again, but the other boys seemed to pay him no mind.

“Yeah, man.” Mike piped up, his mean smirk making your blood boil slightly “If you stare any longer she’ll go from calling you ‘The Freak’ to calling you ‘The Creep’.”

Your fists clenched under the table, nails digging painfully on your palm. You were about to speak up but Eddie beat you to it.

“She’s not like that!” he closed his hand around the mini pretzel he was eating, crunching it in his fist from the force of his words “She’s kind and gentle and sweet.” he glanced at you from the corner of his eyes before speaking up again, softer this time “She’d never do that.”

“See?” Gareth pointed out “You’re already defending your girlfriend-”

“She’s not my girlfriend!”

“Keep telling yourself that.” Mike muttered under his breath.

“So you might as well make it official and ask her out already!” Gareth finished, throwing his arms up in exasperation.

You’ve had enough. Pushing your chair back with so much force it scraped loudly against the linoleum floor, you hastily grabbed your bookbag, stomping away from your usual lunch table and out of the cafeteria.

“Great going dipshits.” Eddie threw a hard, stern glare towards his friends and quickly followed after you.

“What was that?” Jeff asked, bemused, still staring at the doors which you’d left through.

“I dunno.” Grant shrugged “One moment we were joking around, the next-”

“Guys!” Dustin yelled, startling his friends and earning the attention from other students at the nearby tables. Shrinking his shoulders, he smiled sheepishly, embarrassed, before addressing the other boys again “That was really mean. Even downright cruel.”

“What?” Gareth exclaimed “We were just teasing him!”

“Not to him, dumbass.” Dustin hissed sharply. “To her.”

“Your sister?” Mike asked, a frown twisting his features “What does she have to do with all this?”

“Seriously?” Dustin replied incredulously “You mean to tell me you’ve never noticed?”

The boys shook their heads and Dustin sighed, shaking his head in disappointment.

“For people who claim to have it all figured out, you surely are clueless.” he exhaled long and deeply, as if preparing to give a stern scolding to a bunch of four year olds “My sister has the biggest crush on Eddie.”

“What?”

“No she doesn’t.”

“Have you guys never noticed the way she stares at him? How she’s always giddy and happy around him?”

“Yeah, ‘cause they’ve been best friends since they were little?” Grant chimed in.

“No, it’s different.” Dustin tried looking for the right words to explain himself “It’s like… she feels safe with him. Like she knows at the end of the day she’ll always have a safe place right besides him to fall back in.”

“Except Eddie likes Chrissy.” Mike mumbled, the cogs turning in his brain.

“Exactly.”

“Now that you’ve mentioned it,” Gareth stared back at Dustin, wide eyed “she also stares at Chrissy a lot. Always with this wistful, dreamy look on her face.”

“Almost as if she wants to… be Chrissy?” Dustin completed, making a lightbulb go up simultaneously in all four boy’s heads “Yeah. She’s head over heels for him, and you teasing him about his crush only serves to remind her of what she’ll never ever have!”

The guys had the decency to look ashamed at his outburst.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he said, getting up from their table and collecting his, yours and Eddie’s tray “I’m going to go find my sister and lend her my shoulder for her to cry on.”

Gareth, Jeff, Mike and Grant stared at his retreating form, guilt weighing heavily on their stomachs.

Dustin found Eddie in front of his locker, shuffling through the stuff inside, looking for something.

“Hey, Eddie.” Dustin leaned against the door of the locker adjacent to his, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Hey, man.” Eddie answered, without so much as looking over at his friend. He looked annoyed, the boy dared say even slightly pissed.

“Have you seen my sister?”

The younger boy jumped about a foot in the air when the door to the locker was slammed shut, a smal, metallic black lunch box hanging tightly from Eddie’s fist.

“No, Henderson, I haven’t seen her.” he answered, a fed up expression crossing his face as he started walking away.

“Wait up, Eddie.” Dustin held him by the cuff of his jacket, preventing him from leaving “I wanna talk to you.”

The metalhead sighed and turned his attention to the boy, nodding for him to go on.

“I know you like Chrissy-”

“I don’t like-”

“Please, just let me finish.” Dustin held a hand up for him to stop interrupting, to which Eddie rolled his eyes but stayed quiet “I know you like Chrissy. I do, really. Just… don’t break her heart.”

“Chrissy’s?” Eddie seemed confused.

“No.” he said your name hurriedly, desperately trying to get his point across “I really shouldn’t be telling you this, but she really really likes you. Like -likes you.”

“She doesn’t like me.” Eddie answered unphased, his calmness making Dustin’s heartbeat pick up in anger.

“Yes, she does! How come you don’t see that?” he rubbed a palm over his face, the pull on his cheeks stretching his lower eyelids so far Eddie worried his eyes were about to pop out of the socket “I just- I… I just don’t want her to get hurt.”

Eddie’s entire demeanor deflated, a small sigh escaping through his lips. As annoying as the young boy could be sometimes, Dustin had an enormous heart, always worrying about others and putting their needs and feelings before his own, and (Eddie felt a twinge of pride anytime he thought about it) he was loyal to a fault. Those were among the first things he noticed about the boy when he started his freshman year, prompting the metalhead to quickly take him under his wing. That and his Weird Al tee.

He laid a hand over Dustin’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

“I can assure you, with the same certainty that the sky is blue and ‘The Empire Strikes Back’ is by far the best one in the trilogy, I’m not going to break her heart.” seeing a tiny residual layer of distrust fleetingly cross through Dustin’s eyes, he squeezed his shoulder tighter “I promise.”

Dustin nodded thoughtfully, shyly smiling up at his friend.

“Thank you.”

Eddie smiled back at him, giving his shoulder one last squeeze, before he was back to his usual dramatic self.

“Now, I’m going to find your sister and beg for forgiveness. I’ll even drop to my knees and grovel if I have to.”

Dustin laughed at his antics, watching Eddie practically skip down the deserted hallway away from him, clutching the metal lunch box loosely on his hand.

“If you continue to stare at the table like that it’s gonna go up in flames and probably spread all around the woods. And I really don’t want to add crimes against the environment to my ever growing list of felonies, you know?” Eddie’s face morphed into a shit-eating grin as he stared at your slumped form.

You only spared him a half-hearted glare before balling your hands tightly. You slammed your fists against the wooden picnic table in front of you, jumping out of the bench and starting to pace along the leaf covered ground.

“It’s just so annoying, you know?” you huffed angrily “They notice one little thing, one wrong thing might I add, and just believe they’ve got us all figured out!”

“Yep.” he agreed, also mildly annoyed at the situation.

Throwing your arms above your head in frustration, you kicked some of the leaves with the toe of your sneakers.

“Even if you were into Chrissy, how is that any of their business?”

“Mhmm.”

You paused for a moment, wringing your hands together, a nervous habit you couldn’t seem to shake.

“But they are right, you know?”

“How so?” Eddie’s entire face scrunched up in confusion.

“You have been staring at Chrissy a lot recently.” you spoke quietly.

His face softened at the way you seemed to withdraw into yourself, letting your insecurities get the best of you. He stood up from the other bench, the dry leaves on the ground crunching under his white Reebok’s as he closed the distance between the two of you, resting a comforting hand on your shoulder, not unlike how he had done with your brother earlier.

“I’m just looking out for her. She hasn’t been all that well recently and Carver…” he sighed at the mention of his arch-nemesis “They may be dating but the dude still scares me when it comes to her. And she hasn’t been really happy with him for a while now. I don’t want her to get on his bad side.”

Your heart swelled with affection towards your best friend. Eddie had a heart of gold, one he hid behind leather and chains and metal and fantasylands to protect it from being hurt. Only a few selected individuals got to see this side of him, and you were extremely thankful you got to be one of them.

“I do not have a crush on Chrissy Cunningham, okay? You’ve got nothing to worry about.” he squeezed your shoulder playfully as his once soft smile grew mirthful “Besides, from how well we know each other, I’m actually offended you’d even suggest such a thing.”

You giggled at that, eased by both his actions and his words. Sensing you were back to your usual self, Eddie smiled, taking a step back, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You do know that this would all stop if you just told them the truth, right?” he asked seriously “At the very least Dustin?”

You snorted.

“Right, because that is super easy and plausible.” you mocked “What would I even say to him? ‘Hey, little bro! You know how you’re into Suzie, a girl? Yeah, so am I.”

Eddie threw his head back, a loud and full laugh escaping from his wide smile. Tears gathered in the corner of his eyes as he clutched his stomach, almost doubling over at the hilarity of your words.

“Man, oh, man. The way you phrased that-” he hiccuped, trying to regain his breath while wiping away some tears that had escaped down his cheek.

You couldn’t help but giggle as well, his laughter contagious, and a small smile formed on his face at having helped improve your mood.

“Yeah, it sounded pretty weird, didn’t it?” you shrugged your shoulders sheepishly.

He nodded, finally being able to stop chuckling.

“Just tell him you like pussy, can’t be that hard.” he sat back down on the bench, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Edward Cornelius Munson!” you gasped and slapped his shoulder.

“What, so do I!” he threw his hands up in amusement before smirking “That, among other things.”

“I know, it’s just… I’m not about to use such a-” you hesitated as you took in his wolfish grin “foul language with my baby brother.”

“He’s a high schooler!” he almost shouted.

“No matter how old we may be, he’ll always be my baby brother.” you answered, sitting back down on the bench, your smile faltering for just a moment. It was only a moment, but Eddie noticed. He always did when it came to you.

“You should tell him, you know?”

Your face fell completely, smile disappearing as your shoulders slumped.

“You know I can’t.” you said softly, prompting a small sad smile from him “What if-” you swallowed thickly before whispering “What if he doesn’t look at me the same anymore?”

Eddie reached across the table, his hands laying palms up against the old wood. His fingers crooked in his direction, signaling for you to lay your own on top of them.

“He’s your brother.” he squeezed your hands tightly in his own “You said so yourself, he’s your baby brother. That kid worships the very ground you walk on.”

“Eddie-” you shook your head, but his hands closed even more tightly around yours.

“No, listen to me.” he said firmly, his stern voice promptly shutting you up “He’s your brother and he loves you, so very much. Nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing could ever change that.”

Your eyes prickled, brimming with unshed tears. With a sniffle you squeezed his hands in return, willing yourself not to cry.

“Thanks.”

He smiled at you one more time before dropping your hands, his smile turning mischievous.

“But seriously, Chrissy Cunningham?” he smirked, a mock disgusted look on his face “How basic can you be?”

“We’ve been over this before, Eddie.” you giggled “It’s just- she’s so-”

“So pretty and kind and nice, yeah yeah, I’ve heard it all before.” he waved his hands dismissively at you “Why don’t you talk to her?”

You snapped your head at him, eyes widening minutely.

“What?” you stuttered “Are you insane?”

“What, why? It was just a suggestion!” he raised his hands in mock surrender.

“I couldn’t possibly talk to her! She’s pretty and popular, she’s-”

“The Queen of Hawkins High?” Eddie completed.

“Yes, exactly. And I’m just-”

“A freak?”

You shook your head.

“-me.” you whispered sadly “She’s everything and I’m just… me.”

Eddie’s eyes softened, something akin to pity and concern crossing behind them.

“That’s not true.” he spoke softly, as if you were a cornered animal and any loud noise would spook you. He sighed at the way you shrugged, realizing he couldn't get past the insecurities that had lodged themselves in your brain.

“Besides, she’s with Jason.”

“Fuck that dickhead! He’s not worthy of her time.” Eddie blew a raspberry “She’s really nice. He doesn’t deserve her.”

Ever since she started buying from him, the two of them had become really good friends. Eddie was very fond of her and would do almost anything to keep her safe. Even fighting her own boyfriend if it came to it.

“Yeah, right.”

“You should talk to her. You have a lot more in common than you realize.” he shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant “If nothing else, I think you two would be great friends.”

You smiled at him, a genuine smile this time. You were very grateful for having Eddie in your life. He was always there for you when you needed, always willing to drop everything just to make you smile. For a smile while you were afraid of losing him, having revealed your secret when he confessed to having a crush on you for a while. You were a sophomore, he was just starting his first round as a senior and you had known each other for a long while when he dropped that on you. You were scared, terrified even, that you’d end up losing him completely, but he hadn’t been disgusted nor weirded out, like you’d expected. Quite the opposite, in fact. He had been incredibly supportive and even revealed that he himself wasn’t very conventional when it came to relationships.

“I mean, as long as they love me and treat me AND my friends right… and don’t mind me blasting Black Sabbath on my sweetheart every once in a while, who cares? Guys, girls, people who are neither? Doesn’t matter, man.”

“Thanks, Eddie.” you smiled at him, giving one of his shoulders a soft punch.

“If you want the teasing to stop, though, you’ll have to tell the boys from Hellfire.”

“And risk Mike Wheeler running his loud mouth around? Then get turned into an even bigger laughing stock for being something even worse than a ‘freak’ in their eyes? Or worse, get beat to a pulp by someone like Jason Carver? No, thank you.”

Eddie agreed. Then, for a moment, he looked up, brows furrowed, deep in thought.

“To be fair, I’m pretty sure Wheeler has a puppy dog kinda crush on me.”

“Oh, no, he does. For sure.” you nodded vehemently “He pretty much stole your style and your mannerisms, there’s no way he doesn’t have at least a small infatuation towards you.”

He chuckled.

“Doesn’t he have a girlfriend, though?”

“Yeah, El. But he also talks about Will Byers almost as much as he talks about her. It’s always ‘Will this, Will that’... you might as well incorporate Will, the Wise into our next campaign.” that made him giggle and shake his head at your antics. No matter how much you teased your brother and his friends, you loved those munchkins very much.

Him, sensing you were finally relaxing, decided to throw in a joke to alleviate the mood even further.

“Soooooo, Henderson… when are you asking her out then?” he said, smirking at your smiling face.

You threw your head back, laughing at his jokester self.

“I dunno, Munson.” you shrugged “When are you going to ask Steve Harrington out?”

“Uh, never?!” his face looked almost offended, a pink tinge dusting his cheeks, but in truth you knew how much he liked the former ‘King’.

“There’s your answer.”

He chuckled, amused.

“See, that’s why I keep myself open to the opportunities. There’s plenty of fish on this sea.” he tsked “Try being more like me, won’t ya?”

“Oh yes” your face turned mockingly serious “I’ll be exactly like you. With at least twice, if not more, as much opportunity and yet you’re still alone.”

With a hand to his chest, he gasped dramatically.

“How dare you?!” he glared at you playfully “Low blow.”

“It’s the truth.”

He chuckled, pulling a laugh out of you, and for a moment, all your worries vanished.

“I swear to you, Max, if he so much as thinks about hurting her I’ll personally break every single one of his fingers so he can never play his precious guitar ever again.” Dustin hissed as he pushed the doors open at Family Video.

“What’s going on?” Steve asked, exchanging a suspicious glance with Robin.

“Dustin here is threatening bodily harm.” the red-head explained as she walked towards the horror section, stopping briefly to stare at a copy of ‘Pretty In Pink’ in the romance section.

“To whom?” Robin asked.

Dustin sighed heavily, like the thought gave him an immense amount of pain.

“Eddie.”

Steve stared at Dustin as if he’d grown a second head. Normally Dustin wouldn’t shut up about his Dungeon Master, he basically worshiped the dude, to Steve’s mild annoyance. So for him to be mad at Eddie, something drastic must have happened.

“What did the dingus do?” Robin pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Oh, don’t ask-” Max shouted from over between the shelves.

“I’m glad you asked!” Dustin cut her off, jumping up and sitting over the counter, ignoring the protests of both Steve and Robin “Okay, it’s kind of a long story.”

“Oh, no.” Steve mumbled under his breath.

“So, you guys know my sister, right?”

“Of course we do, she’s one of our best friends. Also works here all other days of the week?” Robin questioned, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yeah, her.” Dustin continued, unbothered “She’s got it bad for Eddie. Like head over heels bad.”

Steve almost choked on air. From the corner of his eye he could see Robin shooting the young boy a funny look, almost in disbelief.

“But the thing is, Eddie has it bad for Chrissy Cunningham.”

Robin and Steve stared at one another, jaws hanging open.

“Okay, and?” Steve asked.

“And?” Dustin asked incredulously “And she’s bound to get hurt. She’s going to get hurt and-” he let out a shuddering breath “I don’t want to see that happen.”

Both Steve’s and Robin’s gaze softened at the boy’s kind words.

“If it serves as any consolation, Dustin, your sister does not have a crush on Eddie.”

“Yes, she does!” Dustin practically shouted “She’s my sister and I know her! She is in love with Eddie! It’s so obvious, why can’t none of you see it?”

“Dust-” Robin tried interrupting, but the boy cut her off, offended.

“What kind of brother would I be if I didn’t know my own sister?!”

Robin raised her hands, trying to calm the boy down.

“Okay, okay. Fine.” she sighed defeated.

Steve sensed Dustin was getting upset and tried to placate him into calming down.

“Hey, man. If, by any chance, he ends up breaking her heart, I’ll help you bash that metalhead’s skull in.”

Dustin smiled a toothy grin, reassured by his friend’s words.

“Now!” Steve clapped his hands “I assume the two of you aren’t here just to gossip now, are you?”

Dustin straightened his spine, jumping down from the counter and disappearing behind some shelves. Moments later he came back, dragging a reluctant Max by the wrist.

“Maxine here” he started (to which Max mumbled ‘Call me Maxine again and I’ll break your fucking nose’ under her breath) “has never watched Star Wars.”

Steve gasped dramatically.

“Seriously?! What a crime!”

Robin rolled her eyes.

“You haven’t watched it either, dingus.”

“Yes I have!”

“Sleeping halfway through ‘A New Hope’ doesn’t count as watching!”

“Anyway,” Dustin cleared his throat “Mike and I agreed that it’s about time she watched it and decided on a movie marathon. Lucas is also joining us. So if either of you can get me the tapes for the entire trilogy, we‘ll get out of your hair as soon as possible.”

Robin started typing in Dustin’s file while Steve went out back to retrieve the requested tapes.

“Uh, guys?” Steve came back to the front of the store holding one tape in each hand “Looks like someone already rented one of them.”

“What?!” Dustin’s voice broke as he reached for the tapes “‘Return Of The Jedi’ is missing! Who in their right minds rents only ‘Return Of The Jedi'?!”

Robin looked at Steve, a mischievous smile crossing her features. He knew she could only mean trouble.

“Let me check that out for you.”

“Uh, Rob.” Steve mumbled, concerned “That’s against company policy.”

“Come on, Stev-o, live a little! We do this all the time to find out stuff about people.”

“Oh, and checking the renting log for Star Wars 3 will tell us what exactly?”

Robin smirked. Oh, Steve didn’t like where this was going.

“If we cross reference it with the other two,” Robin started typing on the computer behind the counter “we can check out who rented all three of them together or rented all three of them separately but in the correct order.”

“And those who rented just this one?”

Robin’s smirk only grew. She looked at Steve dead in the eye and mouthed the word ‘boobies’. Steve could practically hear the moment the shoe dropped, his own face morphing into a smirk.

“Are we missing something here?” Max asked, suspicious.

Robin dismissed her and continued typing. It took about twenty minutes, but she eventually had printed out an extensive list of names after having written down a bunch of names and connecting them on her little white board.

“Okay, munchkins.” she turned to them, swiveling her chair “I have it. After pulling the records of the past six months, I managed to find out all the people who rented ‘Return Of The Jedi’ solo.”

Dustin giggled, and Max rolled her eyes, but a tiny amused smile pulled at her lips. Steve awaited eagerly, hanging from the edge of his seat.

“Let’s see, from oldest to newest.” Robin cleared her throat “Eddie Munson, clearly; me; Vicki; Eddie again; your sister.”

Steve side-eyed her, his brows furrowing in confusion, but Robin kept going without paying him any mind.

“Vicki again; your sister again; Fred Benson; Eddie; Vickie; Eddie; Jason Carver;” her face scrunched up in disgust (to which Dustin screamed a “Jason Carver likes Star Wars?! ”) before continuing “your sister; Vickie; me; Eddie aaaaaand… oh!”

Everyone froze, startled expressions paralyzing their faces.

“What do you mean ‘oh!’?” Steve asked, incredulous.

Robin’s eyes were wide as saucers, her eyebrows so far up her forehead they disappeared under her short bangs. Her mouth hung wide open and only small stutters came out. Swallowing hard, she exhaled sharply through her nose before turning to her friends, her voice low.

“The last person to rent ‘Return Of The Jedi’ and who currently has the tape is Chrissy Cunningham.”

Multiple things happened at once. Steve’s jaw fell almost to the ground, Dustin let out a loud disbelieving yelp and Max’s eyes widened just a fraction.

“Seriously?” Dustin asked “Chrissy Cunningham, captain of the cheer squad, queen of Hawkins High, Jason Carver’s girlfriend, rented out a Star Wars movie?”

Steve and Robin glanced at one another. It was clear their incredulity stemmed from a totally different reason then the two kids.

“Oh, well.” the boy threw his hands up in defeat “I guess our movie marathon is fucked.”

Max looked conflicted, slightly relieved but at the same time kind of bummed. Steve was already pulling the file for ‘Return Of The Jedi’ on the computer again, desperately trying to put a smile back on that kid’s face.

“She’s due to return it tomorrow. Why don’t you come by then? It’s Friday anyway, don’t you have Hellfire today?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Dustin shrugged “We were going to head straight to Mike’s after the club and Max would meet us there.”

“Tell you what,” Steve nodded his chin conspiratorially “why don’t you take something else for today, have a sleepover, and as soon as Chrissy returns the tape tomorrow I’ll drive by the Wheeler’s and deliver it to you, okay?”

“But what if Chrissy doesn’t return it on time?” Max asked.

The sound of keys being smashed on the keyboard pulled their attention back to Robin, who had taken over the computer.

“It says here she hasn’t missed one due date, and she’s been coming here for quite a while now.” she smiled reassuringly “You guys have nothing to worry about, Steve’s got this covered for you.”

After a few more moments trying to reassure Max’s everlasting distrust and restore Dustin’s goofy mood, the two kids left with a copy of ‘Gremlins’, one of Max’s favorite movies of all times. As they were about to set foot outside the door, Robin called out to Dustin.

“Don’t worry about your sister, okay? She’ll be alright.”

Dustin nodded and they left. With a huff, Robin slumped against the counter.

“So, what was that about our dearest Henderson having a crush on Eddie?” Steve asked.

“Trust me, dude, she does not have a crush on him.”

“Dustin seemed pretty adamant that she does.”

“She doesn’t.” the girl hissed.

“How could you possibly know? She might be one of your best friends since forever, but sometimes people rather keep-”

“Because I know!” Robin practically shouted “Because she’s also into the same stuff we both are!”

“You mean…” Steve’s eyes widened, before his confusion gave way to understanding “She did rent that Star Wars a lot.”

“Yeah, exactly.” Robin leaned closer to him and lowered her voice down to a whisper, even though there was no one else in the store at the time “We dated briefly in middle school. We were both going through a self-discovery journey kind of thing and we helped each other out. It’s good talking about your feelings with someone who actually gets it, who also knows exactly what you’re going through. That, combined with the fact we’d been friends for so long, had us both thinking that dating was the natural progression of things.” she smiled a sad, fond smile before shrugging “Don’t get me wrong, she’s pretty cute, smart and all, but we quickly realized it was more like kissing a cousin than anything.”

“Ew.” Steve shrudded.

“Mhmm. So we broke things off about a month in.”

“Wow. That’s nice actually.” Steve smiled at her “It’s nice to know you didn’t have to go through all of that alone.”

Robin nodded in agreement, turning back towards her friend. She found him already staring at her eagerly. She closed her eyes with a sigh.

“Spit it out.”

“So our resident freak has a crush on the Queen of Hawkins High?”

Robin eyed him funny.

“No he doesn’t.” she scoffed “There’s only one person in this town whom Eddie fancies, and it’s certainly not Chrissy.”

“Who’s it?” he asked, like a kid who’s begging their parents to reveal the contents of their Christmas gift in advance.

Robin felt like she could facepalm. Better yet, bang her head on the counter multiple times.

“Seriously, Harrington?! Are you really that dense?”

Steve stared at her like a clueless puppy.

“What?”

She huffed and grabbed a pile of returned tapes to sort through.

“Anywaaay…” Steve sat next to her again “What do you think?”

“About what?”

“Uh, duh? The fact that Chrissy rented that movie? You said so yourself and that list was pretty self explanatory.”

Robin smirked at him, a small chuckle climbing out of her throat.

“I think, my dear friend,” she topped her act off with a wink “that there’s more to Chrissy Cunningham than meets the eye.”

#chrissy cunningham x reader #chrissy cunningham x you #chrissy cunningham x female!reader #chrissy cunningham x f!reader #chrissy cunningham fanfic #stranger things fanfic

66 notes · View notes

wilhelmsbee · 4 months

Note

Okay honestly? I'll just take you up on that offer because I'm obsessed with your edits in general, but if you ever feel like talking some more about that Wilhelm edit you did to the song Ribs by Lorde??? Would love that because that edit lives rent-free in my head! (no pressure though, I just like the idea of like... director's commentary or something for edits haha)

I HOPE EVERYONE IS READY FOR ME TO BE INSANELY DEEP ABOUT THIS EDIT OH MY GOD

preface: i talk ab why i chose each scene for the lyrics, then colouring/font, idk if this is the directors commentary you wanted but like this is how I think about all my edits

We're reeling through the midnight streets- initially, I actually wanted to start it on the this dream isn't feeling sweet line but it just didn't fit in instagrams 1-minute time frame ANYWAY This scene has always been the most painful to me. Wilhelm realises at this moment that he's truly, undeniably alone in his life. Everyone he trusts (or is supposed to trust) has left him, and he has nobody left to go to. He's alone, going through his own personal hell, finding out his only family cares more about public perception than him as a person. It's like the beginning of the worst spiral we see from Wilhelm. Its quite a literal scene-to-lyric moment, but also the we're part feels (to me) like him-as-well-as his public self. Crown Prince Wilhelm and Wille are such separate parts, and its all he has left.

And I've never felt more alone- The THERAPY SCENE! Specifically this is the I think it's better not knowing how it could feel scene, because that truly is the most heartbreaking viewpoint I've ever seen from a character. It was better not being in love because I couldn't miss it. He might be getting closer to the other boys in the secret society, as well as Felice, but he's not really breaking past the surface level with anyone. Not even Felice knows the depths of his pain, he keeps it all to himself. The loneliness crushes him, he wishes he didn't know how love felt. As far as he's concerned, he's never loving someone else again (true) and he's never going to be able to love Simon again (false). In this moment there's this feeling of emptiness. He has nothing he actually cares about, and he wishes that he never cared in the first place.

It feels so scary, getting old- He wasn't supposed to fill this role, giving a speech as the Crown Prince of Sweden about his brother's passing. Wilhelm's character (obviously) fundamentally switches after Erik's death. He used to be a lot sillier, more reckless and more willing to fight back against his parents. But now he's got every single eye on him, watching him. Put into an adult role at the age of sixteen, forced to carry the burden of spare his whole childhood, then suddenly forced to be the sole heir. Even if he had planned to maybe one day be the heir (which he didn't, judging by the he should be here instead of me comment) it wasn't supposed to happen until he was older and wiser. He stops acting like a kid because he can't be a kid anymore. The cuts between the frog/getting the frog/breaking the globe aimed to emphasise this. He's lost all connection to his brother, he's in a place he didn't expect to be until he was extremely old (if ever), and he's lost control of his own life.

We can talk it so good, we can make it so divine, we can talk it good how we wish it would be all the time- I wanted to frame Simon in this as a sort of healthy distraction for Wilhelm. He was the only person in his life who actually looked out for him and cared. They're happy and they're smiling, all the clips are intimate even if there's someone else there. It highlights how they care. It's good, it's divine. It's what kept him happy after the hardest thing in his life (so far). In this edit, he desperately wants it back because he knows how much it helped. It was the only bright thing he had. The cutting to Wilhelm alone in s2 after how we wish it would be all the time just aims to really enforce that he wished it was still like that, wishing for someone who truly cared and loved him. It's all yearning, pining, wishing things were better. Every single clip is a clip in which Wilhelm has been pining over Simon. There's an ache he expresses that was just so, so important to this edit.

This dream isn't feeling sweet- Lots of clips of Wilhelm trying to process things. He's been forced to change his entire life, after all being a prince is a privilege, not a punishment. The 'dream' of being royal crushes him, despite the fact he can't ever voice it. Walking down the halls of his castle, sitting in his private boarding school therapy session with an actual therapist, being driven home in a private car from the party where he was filmed fighting. These luxuries juxtaposed with his actual circumstances hurt. He can't complain because he's got it best in the country, but it isn't a system designed for him, it doesn't want to help him, it wants to make him conform. It isn't fair, but he can't say that.

We're reeling through the midnight streets- He's forcing himself to try and fit the mould while also being himself, and all it causes is pain. He's actively fighting against the institution he was raised in simply by existing. The panic attack from being perceived holding Simon's hand. Deleting his contact after his mother told him 'no more mistakes.' Trying to play nice at the dinner table even though his whole life was crumbling around him and the institution was failing everyone even though nobody believed him. The panic attack/anxiety vomit from Simon going public, against Wilhelm's institution, knowing that he might not be able to protect him. He's got no control in any of these scenes, its a desperate fight against himself. He's a publicity risk to his own family if he is true to himself, and he's a risk to himself if he isn't.

And I've never felt more alone- Desperately trying to comfort himself when nobody else can (or wants to) comfort him. After the fight at the party all his family cared about was the PR response. When August said that Simon would take the fall for the drugs, all he cared about was getting Alexander back. During the uniform tailoring, all Jan-Olof cared about was tradition and making Simon as background as he could. When Wilhelm gave up meditating to soothe his anxiety, he was upset at his inability to calm down, despite the fact he's never been given an opportunity to be calm. Nobody really knows about his mental health struggles, he just has to fight through them and desperately try to self-soothe. Nobody else will comfort him after all.

It feels so scary getting old- Each of these scenes show Wilhelm being viewed as his role instead of being viewed as a person. He clearly struggles with being viewed as just the Crown Prince of Sweden, especially since that was never supposed to be his role, so of course it hurts when he's viewed as just a pawn in the Royal Family. Especially from people he loves. Yes, it was undeniably hard when he first became the Crown Prince, and it absolutely would've crushed him to know that when he had a panic attack he couldn't be alone. But these scenes are interlaced with him being viewed as a political pawn by Simon and his mother. People he loves, people he trusts. He's just a public statement to his mother, and he's just a human representation of the Crown to Simon (in these scenes not in general ofc). He's never going to be able to be his own person again, because he's got a country to run when he grows up and a public image to form between now and then.

This dream isn't feeling sweet- The lyrics are now getting more compounding, it's louder and it's closer. He's fighting to be heard, he's being ripped off of his desk, he's forcing down a panic attack because he needs to be happy for Simon. His emotions aren't allowed, he can't feel anything negative so he won't feel anything at all. Nothing in his life feels good anymore, so he's fighting the losing battle to just try to break even. Nobody would dream of this, I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. He can't even voice that, though.

We're reeling through the midnight streets- Now he's reminiscing about when things were easier, but they weren't, really. Yes, the placard was there the night he first kissed Simon, but that was also the beginning of the horrific realisation he wasn't built for the world he is forced to live in. His mother says 'no more mistakes' and he already knows it means he has to leave Simon. When that doesn't work and it all falls out, he's left to try and clean his own image up by nailing the closet shut with every fibre of his being. His life wasn't better, he's grasping for anything to show him life will be okay again. Everything has crumbled and now he's got nothing, so he yearns for when he had something, even if it was just something to lose.

And I've never felt more alone- He is constantly left. Something that isn't brought up enough is how often he's just abandoned. He has no one to talk to, he's forced to work through his struggles alone because his existence is political and any sign of weakness being public could reflect badly on his family. He becomes the embodiment of the Prince he could never be. Walking to the lake and reminiscing about when he would be happy there. Being left alone by his brother, who didn't even reply to him asking to say hi to his mother and father, who he then never sees in person again. Then wearing his brother's jacket. He's alone, and all he does is pine for a time when he wasn't. All he wants to do is go back and do it all again, and he can't. But he also can't move forward, he doesn't want to, he doesn't know how.

It feels so scary- Only two scenes so I'll discuss 'em one by one: -At Erik's funeral, there's a more literal fear of getting old. I don't want to repeat myself more than I already have but obviously, that forced Wilhelm to grow up and be more mature, and act like a Crown Prince instead of just the Prince. More attention, less room for error. He's terrified of fucking it up, and there's nobody who can help him. -The breakup scene is more metaphorical. He has to grow up and figure out what he wants to do with his life, while also having to grow to understand what he actually has the ability to do with his life. He's not ready to do this because he wants things to be good and happy but it was ripped away from him. He can't just pretend everything is alright anymore, but the amount of maturing he needs to do seems impossible at this moment, especially knowing he was in love with a boy when he wasn't allowed to be. He tries to be both a Prince and Wilhelm and all it did was betray his boyfriend's trust.

getting old- Wilhelm shutting his computer and pressing his hands to his eyes. It's exhausting. He's exhausted. Constantly working to try and be who he's supposed to be as well as being himself and trying to navigate his emotions in a vulnerable state is just too much. He can't carry it all, so he just gives up for a moment. It all goes quiet, but not in a good way. When you're that overwhelmed, the lack of anything just leaves more room to spiral.

FONT CHOICES

Intro: literally my handwriting. I wanted this to feel personal and almost like a desperate written plea to go back to when it was good, and what's more personal than my own handwriting am I right!!!

First chorus loop: Magazine font, it's in pieces and it doesn't match. There's a sporadic chaos, like he's beginning to feel it but it isn't there yet. The text isn't fully opaque, it's in front of him. We're seeing it before he does in this context. Trying to reflect how the media knows things before he does, like his brothers death, the tape leaking, all that good stuff.

Second chorus loop: Big, Bold, Unavoidable! I rotobrushed Wilhelm in every scene so that the text could be intertwined with him. He can't escape the reality of his situation, he is getting crushed by these feelings. The song gets louder and more claustrophobic, the text is in the scenes with him. It haunts him, it's everywhere. When he closes the laptop and it all goes silent, its not relaxing, it just makes you anxious in a different way.

COLOURING

I actually chose the blues from the intro scene, mainly in the night sky bit of the frame. Also! All the happy Wilmon scenes have a higher saturation, though you can't tell because of how I did the colouring. It just results in them being a little bit brighter, because things were good then and I believe it should feel good then, too.

#ellieoughposting #ellieeditrambles #new tag for if anyone else asks me ab any of my edits #cannot stress enough ill write one of these for any edit you want #just ask #anyway #edit analysis #wilmon edit #no beta we die like erik #wilhelm x ribs #also idk how else to mention this but this edit was a vent edit #like yes i think this hard about vent edits i have autism i cant not think

17 notes · View notes

melmedarda · 5 months

Note

tell us more ur thoughts on marcus arcane? i can send more specific qs if that helps

thank you :)

hello anon! feel free to send any questions, because at this point, marcus arcane is my chew toy, and i mull over him likely the most after mel. i simply cannot be normal about him.

so i just reblogged the character motivation sheet for jayce, and i really believe that marcus is parallel to jayce. how so, gentle, you may wonder. i'm so glad you asked. what marcus wants most seems to be the ability to keep piltover safe, and to fill the shoes that grayson left behind. we see this in act one, where he follows her religiously, acts in ways for HER best interest because that is how much he loves and respects grayson. AND LET ME PAUSE HERE BECAUSE!!!! WHEN EVERYTHING GOES DOWN AND GRAYSON DIES IN FRONT OF HIM AND SILCO THROWS HIM THE MONEY... and he says this wasn't the deal. JUDAS ISCARIOT!!! iykyk (and if you don't know i will soon be making a set so you see. so you understand). also... the fact that he kept the coin that was encrusted with grayson's blood. as a reminder. marcus,,,,,, baby boy... anyways. let me continue.

I think it's also important to realize that this is likely when he becomes sheriff, seeing as he was grayson's protege. AND THIS IS ANOTHER THING. he and caitlyn were both proteges of grayson. and i believe part of him hates caitlyn, because he realized, in the end that he was a fool, just as grayson had said. that caitlyn was somehow bringing more change/peace than he could. and here's where i strongly believe that if grayson had been around longer, died later, marcus would have been completely passed over as sheriff and the job would have gone to caitlyn, if it had been up to grayson.

ANYWAYS. so then, timeline's a little fuzzy, but i think the year grayson died was the year marcus became a father. after the time skip, i estimate ren to be about 6-7 years old, which means that marcus' main motivation had switched from continuing grayson's legacy to keeping his daughter safe. again, how can we tell? during the funeral for the enforcers, where he's talking of the enforcers protecting mothers, fathers, sons. the camera zooms in to focus on marcus as he mentions daughters.

AND THEN. when he meets with silco, sees the bomb and envisions himself pulling the trigger, and killing both himself and silco. yeah, that scene lives in my head rent free. marcus has always been ready to be the marytr, and i believe, already he considers himself one. the only reason he does not, i think, because then his daughter, ren, would have no one else. i think silco sees he is losing marcus that day, and that is why he turns up to marcus' house, ren's room. and marcus' face when he sees her with him.... people died. (it's me, i am people). it breaks him because the only reason he has remained under silco's thumb, is his desire to protect this daughter, despite the fact that doing so corrupted him.

and then when he holds the gun at caitlyn, he cannot bring himself to pull the trigger. why? WHY can't he pull the trigger? perhaps because of grayson's memory? or perhaps does he think of his daughter in that moment. does he remember that she is someone's daughter too. like, marcus isn't a killer. it's not what he does. he had the opportunity to kill vi, but didn't. he could have killed cait, but again, he didn't. in any case, she does not end up dying, and it is marcus who dies instead.

WHAT ARE HIS LAST WORDS?????????? "Tell my daughter..." I love her. we never get to hear him say it, but we know. we know because after all, everything marcus has done is protect his daughter. to give her safety, and a home. she was his reason for living, and she becomes his undoing, too. he's just a man who was doomed by the narrative before he'd even begun. and in the end, he failed to protect his daughter. i really hope that next season, we get to see marcus' daughter, that caitlyn tells ren that her father loved her.

anyways. if you read this far, kudos to you. if you have any further questions about him feel free to drop them on me.

#marcus makes me so unwell so insane #as you can tell #he's become my second favorite character in arcane after mel #asks #arcane #marcus arcane #arcane marcus

21 notes · View notes

catsafarithewriter · 2 months

Note

Have you ever seen the movie Catnapped? It's basically The Cat Returns on some expired catnip, it's so WILD and was one of my favorite movies as a kid. The trailer literally spoils the ENTIRE movie, it's basically the movie in like two minutes and the song has lived rent free in my head for years.

I'd never even heard of this film until I saw this ask, so naturally - with that recommendation - I had to go track it down immediately!

This film is *breathes into hands* yeah, I think "TCR on expired catnip" is a pretty good description. TCR, meet the mid-90s. It was a lot of fun though; I can imagine I would have been obsessed with this had I seen it as a kid.

Also, it's about the same length as TCR, and yet they manage to fit so much into it? I'm not even just talking about the plot, but the worldbuilding too?? I love that they just casually drop the mythology of the sun & moon as cat and mouse in love, and then never expound on that?? And the giant cat that sleeps beneath the world, a la Great A'Tuin?? Not to mention whatever is going on with the magic system???

PLUS I do love the fact that staying past the sunrise doesn't make the change to cat permanent, but turns all non-cats into giant monsters. I might just borrow that, please and thank you :D

Anyway, I feel like Banipal Witt is the cousin twice removed from the Cat Kingdom, that everyone politely doesn't talk about.

For anyone curious about this, the entire movie is on YouTube! Go check it out! (And have a laugh about how several comments on the video are just "this is just like TCR")

(Heads up though, there is a very short scene that implies a dog being kicked.)