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#i also genuinely don’t remember what it was like to not be ill

reiding-writing · 12 days

Note

hi! could you write prompt 6 from the angsty dialogue prompts for the climacteric event? fem/gn reader whatever you prefer, i was thinking that reader finds out something about spencer and it results in this messy situation, but honestly how you want to do it is all up to you!

JEALOUSY [CLIMACTERIC]

6. “Don’t touch me.”

WARNINGS: spencer is a bit of a twat but apologises profusely afterwards, arguing, happy? ending

spencer reid x gn!reader || angst || 2.5k || event masterlist!!

main masterlist!!

a/n: majority vote chose this one to come out first 🫶 they also chose for it to have a happy ending bc y’all are really boring /j (i love you guys you aren’t boring i swear 🫶)

Spencer Reid grew up too fast.

He was remarkably smart for his age, that much was a given, but in terms of emotional development Spencer was forced to skip what should’ve been his childhood.

He didn’t get to experience what it felt like be praised over a rudimentary piece of ‘art’ by his parents, because he was ‘too intelligent’ for that.

He didn’t get to go out on a Saturday morning with his father to learn how to play a ball game because his dad was never around.

He didn’t get to be coddled by his mother when he cried because by the time he was nine he was her full time carer.

Ironically, his childhood was an era of time where he could barely remember a single detail, despite his renowned eidetic memory, and it only seemed to further prove that Spencer Reid’s childhood didn’t exist.

All he could remember was what didn’t happen. The key milestones of his life that he never got to live through.

To say that impacted his emotional availability was an understatement. Spencer had never been one to ask for help from other people, but in instances where he really felt like he was about to fall apart it was even worse. He’d grown up with the expectation that he was responsible for his own well being. That him and him alone was the only thing that could get him through whatever dark patch that he went through.

He didn’t need anyone else. He wasn’t allowed anyone else. It was just him, always.

You were decidedly the opposite. You wore your emotions on your sleeve, and for the most part, Spencer found it entirely refreshing to watch you be able to express yourself with no holds barred and no internal monologue telling you that what you were doing was wrong.

Sometimes he wished he could do the same.

There were times of his career where he wished you’d do something wrong, that you’d make a mistake or cross a boundary and it’d allow him to exert all of the anger and deep-seeded jealously he felt whenever he saw you be so open with yourself.

He knew it was horrible of him, and more often than not the minute those thoughts invaded his mind he thought of nothing more than how much of a terrible person he was. He was wishing ill on you just because you’d managed to have a healthy emotional output.

Because he was inherently broken from all the years of keeping everything to himself.

“Are you okay?”

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows at the sound of your voice, gaze turning upwards from the mug of coffee sitting on the kitchenette counter to meet your face, covered in worry lines as you furrow your own eyebrows.

He hated when you looked at him like that. Like he was something to be pitied.

“I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” Spencer presses his lips together in an awkward line of a smile, a staple of his character that seemed much less genuine than usual from your point of view.

“You’ve uh- You’ve been stood here staring at your mug for almost five minutes,” Spencer flickers his eyes up to the analogue clock on the wall at your declaration.

You were right, he’d been stood in a state of dissociation for almost a whole five minutes without realising it. Great, that’s just wonderful. Like his life couldn’t get any worse.

“Everything’s fine,” He gives you another one of those awkward smiles as he takes his mug in between both of his hands, the ceramic barely even warm anymore, which tells him that his coffee isn’t hot enough for him to actually enjoy it, but right now he’d take a cup of warm coffee over standing here talking to you about his ‘feelings’.

But you’ve never made things easy.

“It’s not though is it? Something’s wrong Spencer, everyone in the office can tell,” You sigh softly at the indignation on his face as you prod at what’s going on inside his head. “We’re worried about you…” You reach out your hand slowly to lay it on his arm, and he pulls away from you without a second thought.

“Please don’t touch me,” He takes a step to the side, clearly trying to bypass you and get back to his desk so he can escape the conversation. “I said I’m fine.”

“And you’re lying Spencer.” You step in the same direction that he does, effectively blocking his path out of the kitchenette. “We need to know what the issue is or we can’t help you Spencer,” Your voice is tinged with a small amount of desperation, and it irks Spencer in a way that he can’t even fully comprehend.

“You want to know what the issue is?” He puts his mug back down on the counter with enough force that small droplets of coffee spill over the rim and onto the granite underneath it. “It’s you.”

He leans forward slightly like he’s trying to emphasise his point. “You are the issue.”

His words hit you like a ton of bricks, and all of a sudden you’re regretting caring so much.

God you’re beginning to regret even waking up this morning. Maybe that would’ve spared you from the stake in your heat that was Spencer Reid explicitly telling you that you were the sole reason why he was acting differently. Why he was being cold and distant from the team and their genuine want to just make sure he’s okay.

Because they couldn’t do that. Because you were a part of the team. And as long as you were there that coldness wouldn’t go away.

“Right…” You press your lips into a line. “Sorry for asking.”

Spencer regrets what he said almost as soon as the words come out of his mouth. He watches as that usual sparkle of compassion in your eyes literally fizzles out right in front of him, and all of a sudden he feels like an absolutely horrible person.

As you turn to leave he reaches out a hand to stop you. He doesn’t know what he’s going to say, how could he possibly redeem himself after a comment like that? But his body runs on autopilot and all he knows is that he needs to apologise to you. “Wait—”

“Don’t— touch me Reid,” You pull your arms further into yourself to stop him from reaching out to them, and he swears his heart breaks at the sight of you being dismissive. And then there was the added blow of you using his surname to further distance yourself from him and making him want to cut out his tongue so saying something so rash with absolutely zero provocation. “I understood you the first time.”

It was a complete turn of your character, all semblance of warmth and vulnerability evaporated and replaced with a cold, hard shell that Spencer could see calcifying behind your eyes.

“I-“

“I’ll leave you be now.”

And with that you disappear around the corner, leaving Spencer alone with his thoughts. His terrible thoughts that rightfully pummel him into the ground for so much as suggesting that you could ever be a problem.

—

When you said you’d “Leave him be”, he didn’t think it meant you’d literally avoid him like the plague. God you’d even roped Emily into switching desks with you so you wouldn’t have to sit opposite him anymore.

How was he supposed to grovel for your forgiveness if you wouldn’t so much as spare him a glance?

How was he supposed to explain to the team that the reason the two of you suddenly weren’t talking to each other was because he’d fucked up so badly that he felt like he was going to implode?

And most importantly, how on earth was Spencer Reid supposed to make you listen to him so he could explain himself and try to reconcile with you?

He’d considered cornering you in the break room, or catching you in an elevator on your way to the parking lot, but he knew that would only make things worse.

He’d considered turning up to your apartment your favourite snacks and begging you to let him inside, but that would be weird and borderline stalkerish.

He was really running out of ideas, and the longer he went without saying something the deeper he felt he was being pulled into the pit of despair that he’d dug himself to the point where he wasn’t sure if he as going to be able to claw himself out of it.

He had to speak to you. And he had to make sure that you didn’t run away.

The opportunity practically handed itself to him during a case. He knew budget cuts would mean that the team paired up when staying at a NYC hotel, and after some under the table begging for the other team members to room with each other so you didn’t have any choice but to room with him, he took his chance.

There was a very obvious blanket of tension between the two of you as you entered the room together, your apparent vow of silence continuing as you dump your bag on one of the twin beds to claim it as your own before shutting yourself into the bathroom to ready yourself for sleep.

He could tell that you weren’t happy about the arrangement, and despite how much you were distancing yourself from him you still wore your emotions on your sleeve, and right now they were telling him that you would literally rather be anywhere else.

You skirt past him as you exit the bathroom in your pyjamas, leaving your clothes and your bag on one of the decorative chairs to climb into bed with the continued silent treatment you’re serving him.

Spencer sighs dejectedly as he watches you take a seat on the edge of the bed with your back to him. “Can we talk? Please?”

“What is there to talk about?” Your voice washes him like a cold shower, your vocal chords dipped in ice and your words a perfect combination of blunt and dismissive. He can’t see your expression as you speak, but has a pretty good idea of the furrowing of your eyebrows and the narrowing of your gaze.

“I want—” Spencer lets out another sigh, raking his fingers through his hair in internal frustration. “I need to apologise to you. What I said was horrible and I’m sorry,”

“I don’t forgive you.”

As much as the words cut through his heart like a knife, he can’t blame you.

“I understand… I just wanted you to know that I really regret what I said, and that it’s been tearing me up thinking about it,”

“Right…” You let out a short, sarcastic laugh that causes Spencer’s eyebrows to furrow. “Because it’s all about you right?”

“That’s not what I—”

“Goodnight Reid.” You punctuate your sentence by shutting of the lamp on your side of the room, officially putting an end to your side of the ‘conversation’.

Spencer wasn’t done with it quite yet.

“I’m jealous of you. That’s why I said that ‘you were an issue’. You’re not. I am the issue and I was projecting it on to you. That was unfair of me and I need you to understand that I am apologising to do right by you, not to make myself feel better.”

“You have no reason to be jealous of me Reid,” You still haven’t turned to face him, but he’d rather be talking to your back than not be talking to you at all.

“Please stop calling me that..” Spencer lets out a small breath at the end of his sentence, words tinged with a small amount of desperation. He didn’t want to be ‘Reid’ in your mind, he wanted to be Spencer. “I have a lot to be jealous of when it comes to you,” Admitting his faults outright made him feel nauseous, but he needed to break this brick wall you’d built around yourself when it came to him.

He couldn’t stand being an outsider in your life.

“I mean, you’re sweet, kind, you have an inherent knack for social situations that I could only dream of possessing,” He takes a small break in his sentence to nervously chew on the inside of his lip. “and your emotional vulnerability makes me so jealous of you that I want to just—” He exhales sharply.

“It’s very easy to be jealous of you,”

There’s a small pause after Spencer’s confession, tension lingering in the air as he watches you aimlessly fiddle with the edge of the sheets whilst you debate how to respond.

“Those are stupid things to be jealous of,”

Spencer physically deflates at your answer. “They’re not, people like you are envied because you’re so open with yourself, that’s something not a lot of people have, myself included,” Spencer takes a small step forward, cautious about scaring you off if he approached too quickly. “even if I wish I did..”

He places a deft hand on your shoulder and you jolt at the contact.

“I’m really sorry.” His voice drops to a point where it’s almost inaudible, and you swear you can hear his voice catch as he tries to maintain his composure. “I don’t want to fight with you anymore… please,”

You let out a small sigh of indignation, and Spencer knows he’s won you over. “Fine,”

“Thank you,” He gives your shoulder a small squeeze, and you return it with one of your own as you rest your hand on top of his.

“I’m still angry with you,”

“I know…”

“You’ve got a hell of a job making up for it,”

“I know,”

“Good,” You finally turn to look over your shoulder at him, and Spencer is glad to see that your expression isn’t one of loathing or frustration. “Get some sleep Spencer,”

“Okay…” He gives you a soft nod and a half-awkward smile, the sound of his name rolling off your tongue one that fills him with more contentment than it probably should. “Goodnight…” He hesitantly pulls his hand from your shoulder to walk back to his own hotel bed, walking as you tuck yourself into yours.

“Goodnight Spencer, we’ll talk about this in the morning,”

“Yeah… Thank you…”

Spencer flicks off the lamp beside him, relaxing as the room is shrouded into darkness and allowing himself to get the first proper night of rest he had in weeks now that he’s finally made his peace with you.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #mgg #climacteric 🪶

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ozzgin · 2 months

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Hello.

Do you think I can request headcanons for Nakamaro ?

Like in an alternate route, reader and him (he's in his twenties because... magic ?) are married and reader is pregnant.

But the funny thing is, Nakamaro can't bully the yokais because reader will exorcise him each time he tries.

Aaaaah I finished writing and only afterwards it occurred to me you might've wanted a modern day reader for this. 😭 I imagined the events in his own timeline. Oh well. I think it can work both ways. Just replace the ancient pouch with, I don't know, a visa card that he throws at your parents for wife payment.

Yandere! Onmyōji x Reader

Yokai Harem AU as the wife of Abe no Nakamaro, a legendary sorcerer and collector of yokai. Although you're not quite as powerless as to not keep his cruelty under control.

Content: female reader, arranged marriage, mentions of pregnancy

[Main Story] [Character Guide]

Your family had vehemently opposed the marriage. To think their one and only daughter would fall into the hands of such a cruel man. The famous Abe no Nakamaro, descendant of Abe no Seimei himself, has quite a contradicting reputation. He has saved many lives, cured countless illnesses, protected villages from monsters and brought peace to the land. Yet many have also witnessed his ruthless nature: the arrogance he has towards humans, the disdain and utter disgust he harbors towards demons. He is quick to punish, rarely forgives, and never forgets. The yokai he’s captured under a binding contract are kept on a leash, like cattle before slaughter.

It is this man who approached your parents one day, when you were still young, demanding your hand. He claimed you had special powers and a lot of potential under the right guidance. Such spiritual prowess would waste away in a family of plebeians. You don’t remember much of the discussion, only the expressions: the man’s mocking grin as he threw a pouch fattened with coins, the frown of your parents who wanted to refuse, the uneasy, grim eyes of the horned demons brought to intimidate. It was clear they were there against their will. One will find just how difficult it is to go against the wishes of the onmyōji, and you happened to be his most ardent desire. Thus, with a heavy heart, you’d been sent away with the stranger who promised you were to live a life of luxury. One your parents could never afford.

True to his word, you have not struggled since. In Akutagawa’s short masterpiece, Hell Screen, artist Yoshihide is wicked and vicious towards everything and everyone except his beloved daughter. Similarly, the sorcerer seems to have a soft spot for you in particular. He often praises your talent, and patiently caters to your whims without complaint. You once inquired about it yourself, as the idea weighed heavily on your mind: why is it that he does not show the same hostility towards you? He stared at you as if you just grew two more heads. "You're my wife. What else is there to question?"

This favoritism, however, is to the benefit of everyone. Especially to the yokai under his command. You've grown rather fond of the demons in your years spent alongside them, and they've quickly learned that your presence means safety from any punishment. Some need reassurance more than others. To these you've even begun to feel like a motherly figure, shielding them from the wrath of an unforgiving master. At last, an authority even Abe no Nakamaro himself can't disobey: the word of his wife.

And soon enough, as if your marriage wasn't already the ultimate argument, you welcome the return of your husband with the news he's always longed for: you are the soon-to-be mother of his child. His name has just been guaranteed to continue its course through time. To say he is elated is an understatement. You've only seen him smile so genuinely once before in your life, on your wedding day.

"Can you imagine the powers this child will command?" He muses, referring most likely to the fact you've both been blessed with an innate, unmatched talent in onmyōdō. You finish rolling the parchment paper and gently tap his head with the scroll in a scolding manner. "You better not burden the kid with your bizarre expectations!" The same man feared throughout the country is chuckling apologetically at your gesture. "As the Mother says."

#yandere #yandere yokai harem #yokai harem #yandere onmyoji #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere male #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc #female reader

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chrissturnsgirlll222 · 2 months

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okok you can make this super fluffy or u can add smut if you’d like, i don’t have a preference. i also can literally see this in my head so i’m sorry if there’s too much lolol. but basically reader + the triplets have been best friends since they were like 6, but reader and nick are closest. she’s had a crush on matt for ages and basically matt finally realizes what he feels (even though anyone w two eyes could see) and kisses her, but they get caught by nick and matt kinda runs out, later being scolded by nick saying smtg like “why are you doing this? she doesn’t need you breaking her heart over and over again anymore.” after that he confesses and at first she thinks he’s fucking w her before realizing he’s being genuine

sandbox

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summary - this rec ^^

warnings - kissing, fluff, swearing, use of y/n (i think thats all)

word count - 2400??

NOT PROOFREAD

me and the triplets have been best friends for as long as i remember. i honestly think i gained consciousness when i was with them. we have spent countless summers together just playing around outside. showing off our new toys, board games and just growing up together.

we were all inseparable from the moment i met them and have pretty much experienced everything with them. i was always super close with chris and he was even my first kiss at the ripe age of 8. nick and i met first during baseball practice and i was the only girl on the team. nick is my best friend in the whole world and that never changed as we grew up. matt and i are very different people. we always got along and played together as kids but as i grew up i developed feelings for him. i had an eye for him ever since we were 13 when he ditched his date and took me to 8th grade formal because no one else would. he was always my knight in shining armor.

i always thought he was attractive but as time went on i grew to love everything about him. i confided in nick about my feelings when i was 15 and have continued to express my feelings for matt to him. nick promised me that this would be the only secret he would ever keep from his brother and he has kept it for 2 years now.

which brings us to present day.

matt was driving me home from school since nick and chris were hanging out with their friends after school.

“did you see that amount of homework our history teacher gave us, i was ready to walk out the second she gave me that booklet.” i say. “oh i fucking know she can be ridiculous.” matt replies. he was driving with one hand on the wheel and the other tapping his fingers on the centre console to the music we were listening to. “matt.” i ask looking at the size of my booklet, “hmm?” he says watching the road. “do you think we can work on these together i really dont think i can get this done on my own.” i mumble, he chuckles looking over at me “i was just about to ask you the same thing.” he smiles.

“ok ill drive over later i need to do some things at home before i start homework.” i breathe. “sounds good.” he says.

once matt dropped me home i immediately began getting ready. although i would never admit it, i always tried my best to look my best when i was around matt. even though we have known each other for years i never wanted him to think i was unattractive.

growing up and watching the girls matt would take on dates and have all of those ‘firsts’ with always crushed me. he never knew it but he broke my heart countless times. the worst time was when we were 15 and he came to me nick and chris after hanging out with his first girlfriend and told us he lost his virginity. that was the night i confessed to nick my feelings for his brother. i spent the rest of that weekend crying in my room about matt when he did nothing to hurt me, i was just in my own head about loving him since i was 13. its safe to say nothing has changed since then and i have continued to be in love with him and i am now currently 17.

- later that night - 6:15 pm

i arrived to their house and walked in after being greeted by their mom and a hug from her. their mom treated me like my own as i was at their house more than i was at my own. she told me that there was dinner left over since chris and nick werent home if i wanted some.

of course all i wanted to do was just hangout with matt.

i made my way up the stairs to matts room to find him playing a game on his computer with headphones on. i walked over to him and tapped his shoulder. “oh y/n you scared the shit out of me.” he breathes clearly startled. i laugh and walk over to his bed and plop down on it. “i actually think i would rather step on nails for a day than do this history bullshit.” i sigh.

matt chuckles while shutting off his computer and grabbing his history booklet and sitting down on his bed. we both got right to work going from looking in our textbooks, to writing down answers, copying the answers from each other and wording them differently. we continued that same process for about an hour before my hand felt like it was going to fall off.

“oh my god matt i cannot do this anymore we need to take a break.” i sigh laying down on my back. “me too i think my head will explode if i keep going.” he agrees. i close my eyes and get comfortable in his bed while he grabs his phone and starts scrolling on it eventually turning it to my face “what do you think of her.” he asks showing me a girl that is in our history class. i just raise my shoulders in response. “words would be more helpful you know.” he chuckles. “i dont know shes the same as the past 3 girls you have been with.” i blankly reply. he hums in response and goes back to scrolling. “so helpful.” he says jokingly rolling his eyes.

“you never really like any of the girls i talk to huh?” he blurts. i freeze not knowing how to respond, i dont know matt maybe because ive been in love with you for years but your too stubborn to fucking notice it? i obviously wanted to scream I LOVE YOU AND I HAVE SINCE I WAS 13, at him but i didnt. my face goes blank and i just turn away from him and go back to resting my eyes even tho i know it wont last long. while me and matt had a great relationship as friends i always shut down when it came to moments like these. matt knows when something is wrong, all the fucking time. its frustrating in moments like these when i am literally mad at him for showing me a girl hes interested in but of course i cant tell him that.

“ok snap out of it what is your problem now?” he snaps. “matt i dont have a problem.” i state lying through my teeth. “anyone from a mile away can read that you are upset right now so just tell me what the issue is so i can fix it.” he pleads. “matt can you drop it.” i huff twars brimming my eyes, “no.” he pauses “why do you keep doing this, you always shut me out when theres a problem. i know that your upset and you know that i know your upset, just tell me whats wrong.” he explains.

“matt i cant.” i say as tears spill out. he lifts his hand to turn me over to see that im crying, his face saddens. i instinctually cover my eyes and sit up.

“theres clearly something wrong, what happened why cant you open up to me anymore.” he says. i sniffle and get up to use the bathroom. i couldnt stand to even look him in the eye. not knowing the strong feelings i have for him.

j went into the bathroom and broke down. i never broke like that in front of him before. every time this has happened i usually just go home and deal with it or complain to nick. this time i was looking him right in the eye and he saw what he made me feel. matts not and idiot he definitely knows why that upset me. if he didnt have a hunch that i was in love with him before he absolutely knows now. everything ive held in for the past 4 years has spilled out and i dont know how to handle what will happen when i walk back in to that room.

knock knock

“y/n can you open the door.” he says in a quiet tone. i put my hand on the handle and press my other hand to the door. “deep breaths” i keep repeating to myself. i crack the door open and matt sees me mascara on my face. puffy eyes and a sniffily mess. he grabs my face and either side and wipes away my tears. i just watch him as he does this. he moves forward to get closer and slowly connects our lips. i immediately melt into his touch and start kissing him back, wrapping my hands around his on my face.

we continue kissing as i wrapped my arms around his neck to bring him closer as he smiles into the kiss. i heavily breathe in as he slips his tongue into my mouth. my heart beats faster at the new feeling. i always imagined kissing matt but this is better than what i ever could have imagined. he moves one hand from my face and places it on my hip.

“what. the. fuck.” i hear nick say from behind.

we both stop and turn around and nick and chris standing behind us.

“nick please dont be mad.” i plead. “i will talk to you in a minute y/n” he says point at me “matt go to your room with me.” nick says sticking his hand in the direction of matts room.

matts pov

my heart was beating so fast as nick followed me into my room. kissing his best friend what was i thinking. she was my best friend too but their relationship was always closer but its still no excuse.

“what the fuck are you doing kissing y/n?” he yells, i open my mouth to speak but he interrupts me. “do you know how much you have fucked with her already.” he exclaims.

now im confused.

“you have been messing with y/n’s head for years now and you have spent the past four years breaking her heart over and over, she doesnt need you doing it again.”

i pause i thinking about his words rubbing my hands over my face.

“she has spent everyday loving you since we were 13 and has watched you countless times talk to girls and being girls around and she has always kept it in as to how she feels. unless you truly have feelings for her that to you was nothing. but matt, what just happened right there.” nick says shaking his head, “just might hurt her more than anything you could ever have done to her.” nick breathes before walking out of my room.

y/n’s pov

i walked into chris’ room after what happened and just cried as he watched me spiral. he surprisingly had nothing to say and the silence of the situation made it even worse. i was freaking the fuck out. i never anticipated kissing matt and especially not his brother, my best friend catching us.

nick walks in to chris’ room “y/n are you ok?” he asks. i look at him and just break down. he walks over and sits down on the bed with me and chris. chris friendly pats me on the shoulder and i smile at him “thanks chris.” i say and he gives me a warm smile.

we hear a knock on the door and see matt open it. “y/n please can i talk to you.” he says and nick looks at me with worry written all over his face. “its ok.” i whisper as i get up and nod at matt.

we close the door behind us and he begins. “nick just told me ive been breaking your heart since we were 13.” he breathes, “why didnt you say anything before.”

“matt i couldnt.” i say tears threatening to come out of my eyes again. matt looks at me with concern. “dont, dont look at me like that. you never felt anything for me now dont start now because you feel bad for me.” i say now feeling angry at him. “y/n but thats the thing, i always felt something for you. anyone with eyes can see that. you know that i never let any girl come into my presence without asking your approval, your the most important girl to me in the world nothing can ever change that.” he says looking at the ground. “bullshit.” i huff. “i dont believe you, if you really ever had feelings for me you would have seen that i loved you for 4 years.” i say tears pooling out of my eyes but i dont care, “4 years matt. ive been seeing you with girls for years envious of their life and then you pass them on like their nothing.” i say putting a finger to his chest. “4 years i had to keep this to myself to prevent it from ruining years of friend ship, not just between us but between your family.” i say pushing my finger on his chest harder and he steps back. “4 years that i had to get my heart broken by someone who didnt give a shit about me.” i say walking towards him now pushing him harder, crying even harder now.

he wraps his arms around me and i fight out of his grip. he doesnt let go as i stuggled but eventually i grow tired and just clutch on to him like if i let go i would fall. “im sorry.” he says petting my hair and i cry into his chest. “you know that i would never hurt you, you are the one person besides my brother that i care about the most.” he says resting his chin on my head. “i love you.” he says. i look up at him from his grip. i moved up to his face finding his lips and connecting them once more. this kiss more sweet than the last.

“ive waited to hear that since i was 13.”

thank you for reading xx

taglist: @sleepysturnss @blahbel668 @alorsxsturn @w4nnabeurs @junnniiieee07 @waydasims @accio326 @bitchydragonparadise @matthewsturnioloswifey @iloveneilperry

a/n: i hope you guys enjoyed this and to the person who requested it i hope this lived up to your standards 🤍🤍🤍

#matthew bernard sturniolo #matty b sturniolo #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x y/n #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo

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starlightkun · 7 months

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➠ 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

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spicycinnabun · 2 months

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pt. 1 2 3 4 6 7 💐

Eddie turned around, finding none other than the flower nazi. His nametag actually said Steve.

He had a leaf stuck in his hair, and his nose was abnormally rosy. Going by that and his nasal tone, he clearly had a cold. He sneezed, then looked annoyed at himself for doing so. “Ugh, sorry,” he apologized.

He was fucking adorable. It made Eddie smile. “Don’t be. I don’t really need help.” Not with flowers, anyway, just with everything else about his life. “I’m only browsing.”

It was a weird response, he realized. A guy like him, who looked like he belonged anywhere else, loitering in a shop like this. Just browsing. Right. Steve probably thought he was a creep.

Steve was surprised to hear that the man wasn’t looking for anything. Last time, he had bought something, so Steve had assumed he was a returning customer. He had been staring at the wedding arrangement, so maybe he was trying to figure out if Harrington Floral was the best place to get them from.

“That’s some talent you’ve got,” Eddie added, pointing to the display.

Steve felt himself flush. “Thanks,” he said softly, ducking his head bashfully. It wasn’t usually guys who were doling out compliments on the displays. Typically, they just asked for his advice on what they should buy for their significant others.

The redness that bloomed on Steve’s cheeks was just plain delightful. It could have been due to his illness, but Eddie was pretty sure it was a reaction to his compliment. His smile widened. “You made it, right?”

“Yes, I did. I make all the displays.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, missing the leaf by a mere centimeter. “I think I saw you last month when I was building one in the window over there. Are you sure you’re not interested in anything?”

Instead of answering, Eddie reached out and plucked the leaf out of Steve’s hair. “Sorry, you had a little bud-dy trying to catch a ride there. Was distracting the hell out of me.” Eddie showed him the small, curvy leaf.

Steve laughed, which made him cough a little. After clearing his throat, he got back to business. Steve was all about closing a sale, so he pushed a little. “Are you or someone you know getting married? I can, uh…” he thought quickly, “give you a free bouquet as a testimony to how well our flowers will hold up. I was just pruning the roses before you came in. What do you think about a bouquet of them?”

Steve remembered Eddie. And he’d laughed at Eddie’s horrible pun. But Eddie was caught off guard by the questions and the offering. Steve was observant. “I can’t let you do that,” he said. “My uncle is getting married. Hopefully. He hasn’t popped the question yet.”

It would be kind of terrible of him to accept free flowers if it didn’t work out and they never ordered any.

“That’s exciting,” Steve responded.

Genuinely, he felt like it was. Steve loved love. Working in a flower shop would be hard if he was bitter about being single. Also, the fact that someone else around his age wasn’t getting married made him feel a bit better about his own love life. Lately, it seemed like all his friends were getting hitched.

Eddie twirled a piece of hair around his finger, contemplating. He pocketed the little leaf. “I’m meeting the bride-to-be tonight. I suppose making a nice first impression wouldn’t be a bad idea.” He could give the flowers to Wayne to present to Kathleen when she came over. “How much for half a dozen?”

That was probably all he could afford, but he would be paying.

Eddie wasn’t selling as much anymore. Just weed, no powders or pills. Not since he’d discovered that one of his regulars had recently overdosed on Molly. He was at least partially responsible for that. He should have questioned the steadily increasing amount the guy was buying, but he had only been thinking about the money.

“Wouldn’t be a bad idea at all.” Steve had no intention of taking any money for the bouquet.

He walked around the store and started building it. Steve picked out four roses in red and pink, then added two pastel-dyed Asiatic lilies and sprinkled in a few strands of baby’s breath.

When he was finished, he went to the counter to put them down. He grabbed the twine and unrolled some tissue paper. “I’m sure there won’t be any more customers tonight. I’m kind of in charge, so I can totally give you these for free. Because I want to.”

Eddie pressed his lips together briefly, walking over and planting his forearms on the counter. He wasn’t some charity case. He didn’t like having debts, either. Maybe Steve had seen the type of clothes he wore and automatically assumed Eddie was trailer park trash who couldn’t afford it.

But Steve was smiling at him, looking sweet as a goddamn sugar cookie, and Eddie relaxed, rejecting the thought. That just didn’t seem right.

(Though why Steve wanted to give anyone, let alone Eddie, free flowers was a mystery.)

“You’re the boss, huh?” Eddie said. Steve looked young to own the shop, but maybe he was one of the Harringtons.

The name rang a bell. Steve Harrington. Dustin used to talk about a Steve during D&D. Gushed more than talked, really. Was he the same one?

“Technically, it’s my mom’s shop, but I’ve been running it for a while now,” Steve said. He couldn’t take all the credit.

Eddie gently drummed the counter, rings click-clacking as he watched those nimble fingers cut, tie, and wrap. His mom’s store. Well, wasn’t that precious.

Steve gave the bouquet one last critical look and a fluff with his fingers before handing it over. “With these, I think you’ll make the best impression. Maybe your uncle will even pop the question tonight!” Steve was excited for the groom to be even though he didn’t know him.

Eddie accepted the bouquet and looked down at it. “Thank you. It’s stunning.” Kind of like you.

He didn’t say that last part out loud, though he thought it hard enough that he’d probably projected it into Steve’s head.

Steve felt his face heat again. He didn’t know why he was reacting this way to the compliments. When women complimented his arrangements, he barely blinked.

Eddie brought the bouquet to his nose to smell its perfume. It brought another smile to his face before he lowered it. If Kathleen didn’t end up liking them, she was crazy.

Steve watched Eddie, grinning. “I’m Steve, by the way.”

Eddie’s gaze flickered up. He lowered the bouquet. Why were they both smiling like fucking idiots? “Eddie.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Eddie. Let me get you a card—you know, in case your uncle does propose and will need flowers from somewhere.” Steve grabbed one of the embellished business cards from the stack beside the register.

Eddie reached out to take it, and Steve sneezed again just as their fingers brushed. It was a big sneeze that made his face screw up and nearly blew him backward. Luckily, he managed to cover his nose before he bombed Eddie. Eddie tried not to laugh at his irritated expression and soft whine as he sniffled.

Eddie pocketed the card and tugged his handkerchief out at the same time. “Here,” he offered kindly, holding it out to Steve.

It was his favorite hanky, his pirate one with the skull and bones, but it was the least he could do.

Without thinking much about it, Steve took it and blew his nose. He let out a soft sigh, feeling a little better. Then he realized what he’d done. “Sorry…this is kinda gross now. Do you want it back?”

“Oh no—no, that’s yours now,” Eddie said hastily. “I insist. Consider it a token of my gratitude.” He lowered himself in a teasing bow. “Farewell, Steve, fine sir.”

So, so fine. Even with all the snot.

Eddie backed out of the store, still bent over for extra theatricality. When he straightened up, Steve looked confused but was red in the cheeks again. Score.

On the ride home, Eddie almost missed a turn because he kept glancing at the bouquet.

🌷🪻🌻🌹

co-writing this with @batty4steddie 💕

#fic #wybmb #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steddie au #florist au #florist!steve harrington #🌹🌹🌹🌹

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hatchetno1 · 3 months

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hey hatchet!! hope youre doing okay, could i request some angsty romantic headcanons between ticci toby and a gn!reader? maybe like if they argue about toby's behavior and whatnot

hey there darling! i’m actually doing great, and i hope you are too! i absolutely love the sound of this request, so here we fucking go (disclaimer i am not an expert on his MULTITUDE of conditions, which practically make up his whole person atp)

arguments about Toby’s behavior are not uncommon.

Toby was born with multiple diseases and disorders; though he doesn’t know his own past, you figure that if his parents did even a little less for him, he would be way worse off than he is now. in fact, you’re pretty sure this is as good as it could get.

but oh, there are so many things you simply do not love about this man.

his CIPA (congenital insensitivity to pain with anhidrosis) prevents him from feeling pain, and as such he has not felt pain since he was born. as such, completely lacking the concept of pain and never remembering that others are susceptible to it, he is often a little too rough with you, not just in bed. sometimes, he grabs you just a little too hard, and it gets to you.

you know he is as dense as he seems, but just in case, you hope hard that he never realizes you’re slowly becoming distant from him. you simply can’t do it, not with his roughness and lack of reverence on your body.

and oh, this is just scratching the surface of his behavioral issues.

Toby is also diagnosed with BPD (borderline personality disorder). this is what you consider to be the worst part of his behavioral issues.

you had the misfortune of ending up as his favorite person (though in his defense there are not many others around him so his poor mentally ill brain pretty much has no choice).

you talk to the cashier at 7-11 for a millisecond too long? suddenly as you walk out, Toby is gone from where he was waiting for you and when you look back, the cashier’s gone too. but you know somewhere behind the store, the poor cashier’s blood is being spilled.

and even if you need just a small something from his fellow proxies, they’re not immune either.

though, you have to say, you prefer asking a random person instead.

because even though tim and brian may be punished by Toby, you feel like you are the one being punished the hardest.

he’ll give you the cold shoulder and guilt trip you and manipulate you.

it’s to the point you don’t think you know what a normal relationship feels like anymore. are boyfriends supposed to be loving? or are they supposed to scowl at you, go silent and cold the moment they notice you talking to someone else, even if it’s absolutely necessary?

and so you do the only thing you can do to rebel: argue.

you first start out gently, chiding him when he does something he’s not supposed to do. you correct him and explain to him why it’s wrong.

but you’re not sure if it goes through to him at all. you genuinely cannot tell, between his desperate apologies right after and the blatant repetition of his behavior.

for a while, it’d just been the apologies and repetition. though you disliked it, you soon came to realize that it was better than apologies, repetition and THEN arguments, guilt tripping and manipulation.

“why can’t you just love me for who i am? do you not love me after all? i was right all along. you’re desperate to get rid of me.”

and the truth is, you are.

#ticci toby #ticci toby x reader #tobias erin rogers #toby rogers #ticci toby headcanons #creepypasta fanfic #creepypasta headcanons #crp #crp fanfic #ticci toby x you #ticci toby angst #hatchet writes

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hayatheauthor · 1 year

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How To Write And Research Mental Illnesses

Mental illnesses are a large aspect of literature often incorporated into various different genres. However, even with their prevalence, many authors are often unaware of how to write about mental illnesses accurately. If you’re an author writing a character with a mental illness, here are some tips on how to write with mental illnesses.

Don’t ‘Self Diagnose’ Your Characters

When writing about mental illnesses it’s important to consider whether or not your character would realistically have this mental illness given their situation and story. Many authors often ‘self diagnose’ their characters without actually taking the time to research these illnesses and figure out whether their character would develop this illness if they were a real person.

I say ‘self diagnose’ because as authors we generally do diagnose our characters based on our own interpretations and plans for them and their story, without looking to real people with these illnesses.

Just because your character is going through an unproductive slump doesn’t mean they they are depressed. Just because your character is nervous and experiencing stage fright doesn’t mean they have anxiety.

Take the time to look into these mental illnesses and genuinely consider whether or not your character has a mental illness, or if you’re just self diagnosing and wrongly labelling them.

Do Your Research

Whenever I blog about such sensitive topics, I always find myself ultimately mentioning this one point. This is because even with so many resources available to us both online and offline, writers still choose to be blissfully unaware of sensitive topics mentioned in their WIPs or stories.

I sincerely cannot stress how important it is for a writer to do their due diligence and research the topics they write for, especially if it is something as sensitive as mental illnesses.

Once you have established that your character would realistically develop or undergo a mental illness given the situation they are in, it is now time to research what exactly they would go through.

A simple google search can tell you everything you need to know about your character’s mental illness. Or, you could reach out to people you know who suffer from the same illness and ask them questions about it.

Researching your character’s mental illness helps ensure you don’t accidentally misrepresent that illness or create symptoms that are inaccurate and insulting to people who do suffer from that mental illness. It will also provide you with a sense of ease as an author, and allow you to work on your WIP without having to worry about accidentally offending an entire community.

Remember The Three Ss

One of the biggest challenges writers face with writing with mental illnesses is unrealistic representation. Unsure where to start with your research? Here is a simple guide for you to keep in mind.

When writing about mental illnesses, you need to recall the three Ss:

Symptoms

Side effects

Stages

Symptoms

Every illness or disease has its own symptoms, the same applies to mental illnesses. When writing about a character with mental illnesses, you need to take the time to research the symptoms of this illness and how these symptoms can impact your character on a day-to-day and general level.

For example, a character with PTSD would face trouble sleeping and concentrating, would be irritable, angry and face overwhelming guilt or shame. These symptoms can all make it hard for a person to excel at school or the workplace and can lead to delayed deadlines, unfinished work, and a lot of stress and anxious thinking.

A character with PTSD would likely not be able to handle being at the top of their class, unless they completely engross themselves in their studies to the point where they can’t think of anything except that. However, if that were the case then they would find it very hard to handle ‘normal’ situations and wouldn’t be getting a lot of sleep.

Side Effects

A side effect is a temporary and commonly unwanted effect of a drug or medical condition. Unlike a symptom, a side effect can be harmful or beneficial and most go away on their own over time.

They wouldn’t be considered as ‘serious’ as a symptom, however, they can still significantly impact your character, their story, and their dynamics with the characters they interact with.

Following the above example, a character with PTSD would generally suffer from an inability to develop or maintain positive, healthy interpersonal relationships and an inability to trust others. They also often face side effects such as social isolation, chronic feelings of fear, etc.

These are all side effects that would make it hard for a character with PTSD to maintain emotional relationships. You can use this to portray their sudden lack of connection with friends and family, and how they find themselves only associating with people who have either been through or understand their situation.

Stages

A person with cancer, or other such physical illnesses, doesn’t suddenly hit a chronic level overnight. The same logic applies to mental illnesses. Mental illnesses don’t just develop overnight. Your character won’t suddenly wake up one day in chapter ten and have a full-blown panic attack because they developed a panic disorder.

Yes, people can face symptoms or side effects pertaining to a mental illness after facing a traumatic event. However, when writing about such events, it’s very important to do your research and consider whether or not a person would realistically undergo such serious symptoms in such a small timeframe given the circumstances.

Outside of incidents that are a direct result of a traumatic event, it’s important to consider the stages your character would experience as a result of their mental illness.

For example, a person with PTSD goes through five stages, the first being the impact or emergency stage, during which they struggle to process or deal with the situation they have gone through. Then comes the denial or numbing stage.

Following the above example, a numbing stage would be akin to when a character pretends the traumatic event never occurred and throws themselves into their work or school. Then comes a rescue stage, which would be when other characters begin to intervene or when the character comes to terms with the events and starts to better themselves.

Knowing the stages of your character’s mental illness allows you to accurately plan out what happens in your story and create a realistic portrayal of their suffrage. It also helps flesh out your story for your readers and allows you to seamlessly incorporate your character’s illness into the story.

Don’t Define Them By Their Mental Illness

Now that you have a general idea of how to write and research mental illnesses, I would like to end this blog post with a small reminder. People with mental illnesses are human. They have personalities, hobbies, likes, dislikes, and other such traits that often have nothing to do with their mental illness.

When writing with a mental illness, it’s important to take this into account and ensure you don’t constantly define your character by their mental illness, or even worse, reduce them to their mental illness.

I hope this blog on how to write and research mental illnesses will help you in your writing journey. Be sure to comment any tips of your own to help your fellow authors prosper, and follow my blog for new blog updates every Monday and Thursday.

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks?

Are you an author looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Or do you want to learn about how to get a literary agent, get published and properly market your book? Consider checking out the rest of Haya’s book blog where I post writing and marketing tools for authors every Monday and Thursday.

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eunchancorner · 13 days

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Two short stories, two longer stories, almost six Google doc pages, 3377 words and one new nickname for Liv, it is with great pleasure and relief that I finally bring you

Three times Ethan tickled his partners, and one time he didn't

Ethan delighted in the soft giggles that arose as he gently squished the small bit of pudge that hung just slightly over the waistband of Streber’s pants. One of his favorite people, who he’d seen at his best, and recently at his very worst, was healing.

“You’re getting soft again,” he commented, resting his head on Streb’s shoulder.

“Ihi knohohohow.”

“I missed your squish so much…”

“Ihit’s nohot that muhuhuch.”

“But it’s something. It’s progress. Progress I’m glad you’ve made…”

Ethan pressed his cheek into Streber’s, feeling his face heating up a bit. He loved how much the genuine affection got to the poor nerd.

Ethan gently pinched up and down Streb’s tummy, listening to his giggles vary in pitch, from his normal voice to high and silly, admiring every adorable sound.

“I think your new squish is even more ticklish than before~,” he teased, adoring the flustered squeak he earned, and unable to resist giving his cheek a little kiss.

“I love you~”

“Ihi love youhu tohohoo.”

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“LIV GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE!”

“It’s too late, Ethan, I can’t unlearn your weakness!”

The two had been locked in a chase around the house for several minutes. Ethan had recently let slip a particular secret of his to her sneaky questions, and now he was determined to make her pay for it. The only problem was that she was well-versed in running from her partners’ wrath, so he was having a tough time cornering her. However, he was also growing adept at chasing down his partners, so he had a few tricks of his own.

One of which came in the form of a very conveniently timed boyfriend.

“LEON, GRAB HER!” he shouted as Leon rounded the couch, which he was chasing her towards. In one swift motion, Leon grabbed her under her arms and swooped her up off the ground, leaving her legs to kick uselessly in midair as she protested using several threats and curses.

Ethan stopped in front of the two, taking a minute to catch his breath, before pointing at the redhead.

“You. Did you think you’d get away with that little stunt?” he questioned her.

“Yep, AND I was absolutely gonna remember it, too! I’d FINALLY have a leg up in our tickle fights, you giant ler!”

“Well, now you’ve earned yourself a one-way ticket to getting wrecked, good job. May I, Leon?”

“LEON- I swear to fuck if you hand me over to him I am gonna dump ALL of your protein powder into the toilet!!”

Leon gave the small redhead in his hands a glare at the ill-timed threat, shortly before handing her like a ragdoll over to their boyfriend with the simple statement; “Go nuts.”

“W-Wait! Leon! THAT WAS A PROMISE!” she called after him as he returned on his original route to the kitchen, before looking back at Ethan.

“Hi~”

“U-uhm, hi?”

“Wanna apologize for your little shittery?”

“I don’t apologize for that. You know this by now!”

“Really? So you’re just gonna let this happen?”

“Let what ha-” she cut herself off as she realized what he meant. “Oh. Fuck.”

The chuckle Ethan let out was unnecessarily threatening, and Liv felt herself forcing down a nervous smile of her own.

“E-Ethan, no! I-I- I swear, i-if you tickle me, I-I’ll tell someone about it! You won’t know who, and you won’t know when until it’s too late!” she warned, wriggling in his grasp, trying to get herself down.

“Hm, guess I’ll have to tickle ya until you promise not to tell anyone!”

“Wait what-”

She squealed suddenly as Ethan practically threw her down onto the couch beside them and dug his fingers into her ribs, prompting her to grab onto and pull at his arms.

“Ehehethahahan! Nahahoho! Youhu jeheherk!” she insulted him, inadvertently digging herself a deeper hole.

“Liv, the more you fight, the worse it’s gonna get. If you wanna get out of this, you have to be nice. Start by apologizing for being rude~”

“Nehehever! Ihi’ll nehever gihive ihihin!!”

He couldn’t help but laugh at her stubbornness, especially considering how hard she was already laughing. Never change, Liv.

He grabbed her left hand, hoisting it up over her head and raking his fingers from her underarm, down her ribs and side, all the way down to her hip, then right back up, causing her to squeal and smack at him with her remaining hand.

“NyAhaHAHahaHAHaha EHEthahaHAN!! WhYhy THAhahAHAT?!” she demanded, her laughter gaining a quality Ethan could only describe as fittingly chaotic. She attempted to twist away from his hand, only to find that Ethan had very well adapted to keeping up with her constant moving.

“Because it makes you sound adorable!~ And because it’s even worse for you, which isn’t as big of a reason, but still a reason. Tell ya what. I’ll make a deal with you. All I want you to do is say sorry for being a little shit today, and you’ll be free! Sound good?~”

Once again, in all her stubbornness, Liv shook her head in refusal. She was always determined to keep from apologizing for her (admittedly harmless) actions, but unfortunately, Ethan seemed to have gained his patience back.

“That’s ok, I’ve got all the time in the world to keep tickling you until you change your mind!~”

“BUHuHUhuHUhuHuhuT Ihi’m TOOHOhohO TihiHIHIcKLihIHISh!! IHI’LL DihihIHIHIE!!”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic! You might be extremely, adorably ticklish but you won’t die! You’ll just either succumb to cotton brain or have to apologize,” he reasoned, “If you were gonna die, it’d probably be from this.”

Suddenly, he let go of her hand and began raking his newly freed hand up and down her other side, moving in the opposite direction to the other, raising her laughter up much higher than he expected.

“FUHUHUHUHUHUCK EHEHEHETHAHAHAHAN!! IHIHIT’S TOHOHORTUHUHURE!! TOHOHORTUHUHUHUHURE!!!” she practically screeched, grabbing onto his hands and flailing every which way in an attempt to escape, even going as far as to attempt to shake his arms to try to pull him off.

“And yet you know exactly how to get me to stop! But you’re not gonna, are you? Because however much you yell it’s ‘torture’ or that it’s gonna kill you, you’ll always keep being a little shit, just so someone will pin you down, and tickle you until you can’t think because it’s just so fun. Isn’t that right?~”

“SHUHUT YOUHUHUR FAHAHAHACE!!” She tried to cover his face with one hand.

“You’re not even denying it at this point! But, I know exactly what’ll get to you. Exactly what’ll get you to apologize, and end your supposed torture~” Ethan cleared his throat and leaned in close to make sure she could hear him.

“Tickle tickle tickle~”

“EHEHETHAHAN NOHOHO!!”

“Tickle tickle tickle~ Such a cute little ferret getting her tickles~”

“YOUHU AHAHAHASS!! NOHO TEHEHEASIHIHING!!”

“But why not, hm? Can’t I give a cute lil ferret her teases and tickles?~”

“WHEHERE DIHIHID THEHE STUHUPIHID FEHEHERREHET THIHING COHOME FROHOHOM?!”

“Well, you’re just like one! You’re wiggly and hyper and love causing mischief until someone gives you attention. So now, you’re a wiggly, ticklish little ferret, who’s getting all her tickle-tickle-tickles~”

“FIHIHINE FIHIHINE IHI’M SOHOHORRYHYHY! NOHO MOHOHORE TEHEHEASIHIHINGGG!” she finally gave in, and Ethan let go, just as he had promised, letting her make her attempts to stop laughing and even out her breathing.

“Youhuhu… ahare fuhucking ruhuhuhuthlehehess…” she managed as she slowly calmed down, earning a soft chuckle from Ethan.

“Maybe you’ll remember that next time. Of course, whether that stops you or spurs you on is up to you~”

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“EHEHETHAHAHAN PLEHEHEHEASE!!”

“Aww, what’s wrong, Leon? Too ticklish for tummy kisses?~” the goth cooed at his hysterical boyfriend, before peppering soft kisses all over his belly for the second time in a row. In response, he could feel Leon smacking the top of his head as though trying to dislodge him, despite having literally asked for this.

“C’mon, don’t try to push away now. I thought you wanted a soft night in tonight~”

“IHI DIHIHID BUHUT- FUHUHUHUCK!! NOHOT THEHEHEHERE!!” he squealed as Ethan’s kisses trailed around to the side of his tummy, which somehow seemed to be much worse than the middle.

“There’s so many little spots on your tummy, you’re so adorable. My big puppy boy~”

“IHI AHAHAM NOHOT A PUHUHUPPY!! YOUHU FUHUHUCKER!”

“Are you sure? Even if you wanna pull the tough guy routine, you’re pretty puppy-like. You have lots of energy, you’re friendly, you love having your tummy tickled, and if I do this…” Ethan gently pressed his thumb just above Leon’s belly button, making him kick out one of his legs in response. “You kick like a puppy, too! So, I’ve come to the conclusion that you are, in fact, a puppy. Hm, Streber would be proud of me.”

“HEHE WOUHUHUHULDN’T! GOHOHOHOD, EHEHEHETHAHAHAN!” Leon pushed at his boyfriend’s shoulders, pure instinct driving his actions. He loved this, he knew he did, no matter how flustering it was.

But Ethan was never going to hear that.

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Ethan loved his feared ler status.

He found himself lucky to be in a household with so many partners that loved to tickle and be tickled the same way he did, and he found himself even luckier to usually be the one who ended up tickling the others. He was sure he’d won the most tickle fights in the whole house.

Well, next to Aria.

Him and her had been tied for the longest time; Ethan because he never resisted the urge to strike, and Aria because she knew how to keep people from predicting when she’d strike next.

But today, he was going to change that. Ethan was going to show Aria who the most feared ler in the house was, by sneaking up on her and tickling her until she admitted it was him.

And now he was so close!

Closer…

He crept up behind her as she leaned on the back of the couch, idly watching the news.

Closer…

He could hear her humming. She sounded so distracted.

Closer…

He could practically hear her laughing already.

Closer… NOW!

“GOTCHA- WHOA! FUCK!!”

He’d lunged at her, and was taken by surprise when she whipped around, grabbed his wrist and lifted him with her free hand, slamming him down onto the couch, all the air rushing out of his lungs on impact. He coughed a bit as he regained his breath, looking up at her looming over him, her hand still on his chest and his wrist still locked in her grip.

“Uhm… hi?” he smiled innocently.

“Hi there,” she gave him an equally innocent look. That’s never a good sign.

“Well… uhm… how exactly did you do that?”

“Well, you remember how in high school I took ballet one year, and karate the next?”

“L-Listen, you can’t keep blaming all the weirdly impressive shit you do on the weird shit you did in high school!”

“Well, I’d be lying if I said they didn’t have a hand in it, but I have been training with Leon lately!”

“Of course…” he rolled his eyes. It always fucking ties back to Leon.

“So, mind telling me why you were sneaking up on me like a creep?” she raised an eyebrow at him.

“W-well, I was uh-” he was cut off with a grunt as Aria’s weight suddenly shifted to the hand that was on his chest as she pulled her legs over the back of the couch; one landing between Ethan’s own legs and one in front of the couch.

“Oww… It hurts when you do that, y’know,” he told her, earning a small eye roll.

“So you’ve complained before. Now answer my question.” She smiled as she saw his eyes widened. He thought I forgot.

“S-so, uhm, I-I was uh… w-well… I… was… uh…” he fumbled for an answer that didn’t incriminate himself, and found himself unable to come up with anything.

“You were plotting something, weren’t you?”

Oh fuck.

“But,” she glanced over the back of the couch, “since you didn’t bring something with you, I’m gonna assume you weren’t planning on doing anything that might result in a lecture from Streber. You weren’t planning on trying to take that little title, hm?”

“Wh-what title could that be?” he asked, averting his gaze, trying to suppress his nervous smile.

“The title of the biggest ler in the house. Because that title belongs to me. And you know how I know that?”

Oh she is absolutely setting this up but how can I NOT-

“Because you’re a cocky jerk?” he smirked at his own words, feeling a tinge of confidence.

That confidence faded as soon as her eyes narrowed at him.

“Because you are awfully ticklish to gentle tickles. Aren’t you?~” she leaned in all too close as she asked, “And luckily for you, gentle tickles are my specialty~”

“W-what are you… i-implying?” he asked cautiously, his eyes locking onto her hand as it moved from his chest to the side of his face.

“I’m implying,” she began as she began tracing behind his ear, causing him to choke down giggles already, “That I’m gonna do to you exactly what you were planning to do to me. Except I’m actually going to make it effective, because we all know what makes you tick, Eth. And you are going to admit that I’m the biggest ler in the house. Or at least the scariest.”

“Ihi- I’m n-not denying y-you’re the s-scariehest, Jehesus fucken Christ,” he managed, feeling his heart pounding in his chest from the threat of tickles alone. “B-but you are not th-the biggest leher… that’s me.”

“Hm. Then it looks like I am going to tickle you for the biggest ler title.”

“Oh th-that’s just n-nohot fair…”

“It’s completely fair! After all, isn’t that what you were gonna do?” she began to trace down his neck, causing him to squeak and grab her wrist. She raised an eyebrow at him, moving her finger in slow circles in the spot it was trapped in.

“Let go of my hand, or I’m going to tickle you so bad you won’t even be able to think about today without getting in a lee mood,” she warned, and the look she had made Ethan sure she was being very serious, so he did as she said.

“Good, now how am I going to do this, hm? Should I play a little first, see how loud I can make you laugh without going for your worst spot, or should I go for that infamous little kill button right away?~ And even so, which one? The one where my hand would be trapped to trace until you can finally lift your arm, and even then there’s no guarantee I’ll stop, or do I go for the one where you can’t protect your poor little spot, leaving me to trace in whatever little shapes I want, and all you can do is laugh and laugh and laugh, because we both know you won’t be able to get out a single word. So many decisions to make, and the longer I take to make them, the more flustered you’ll be, but I think I know what’ll make it ten times worse. One simple little question, that you ask all too often; What do you think I should do?~”

I think you should be less fucken terrifying, he thought, but truthfully he didn’t know if he could get a word out. Being teased by anyone else isn’t so bad, but this was Aria. She knew exactly how to get to him too flustered to manage a word, and it was working all too well. He tried to give any kind of answer, but the words caught in his throat, and all he could manage were a few flustered squeaks.

“Ethan~ If I can’t get a straight answer, I’ll just have to decide for myself, and you know I’ll pick what gets you the most~” she warned him, hovering her hand over his ribs and watching him flinch and try to squirm away, pressing his arm to his side in an effort to block her.

“A-aria… P-plehease…” was all he could manage. He wasn't sure what he was trying to ask for, maybe mercy, but either way she seemed to be having none of it.

“What’s wrong, darling? Too scared to give me an answer? That’s ok, I think I know exactly what to do~” she cooed before she began to gently pinch up and down his side, causing him to finally release all the laughter he’d felt bubbling up in his chest. He squealed and twisted under her in an attempt to hide himself, but a quick scribble to his other side sent him right back onto his back.

“Arihiahahaha! Plehehease, wahahahait! Nohohohoho!” he begged, resisting the urge to grab her wrist again and instead opted for grabbing his own shirt to try to ground himself.

“I don’t think I will, Ethan~ We’ve both waited long enough for me to tickle you, and if you had to wait any more, I think you’d regret saying that, wouldn’t you?” She began to skitter her nails lightly against his ribs before he could answer, making him laugh louder and kick his legs to try to dispel the energy. She chuckled softly as she watched him struggle to sass her, unable to get any sort of coherent thoughts within the fireworks of his brain to come up with something snarky to say. She traced up and down his ribs, delighting in every squeak and change in pitch, listening to him come so close to absolutely losing it just because he was that much worse off with such gentle tickles. As much as she wanted to dig in and watch him flail, listen to him cackle, she knew this was so much worse.

Occasionally she’d dip just between his ribs and underarms, ripping a squeal from his throat, and just as quickly, she’d be back to his ribs. She could see how badly it got to him; the way he’d tug at his poor shirt when she got a little too high and yet how he’d just barely whine when she’d leave it alone so fast.

“What’s wrong, Ethan? Can’t handle your tickles? Why are you so whiny, hm? Is there something you’re expecting?~” she couldn’t help but tease him, knowing exactly what he wanted; for her to finally go after his death spot, for his brain to fill with fog and fireworks and be able to do nothing but laugh, to fulfill the buzzing anticipation that only got worse every time she tricked him.

Gradually she let up under she had her hand just hovering above that little spot that she knew she could destroy him with, smirking as she listened to his nervous, giddy giggles.

“Well, Ethan?” she asked, “Got anything to say?”

“P-plehehease, Ahariahaha… I-Ihi’m sohohorry, y-youhu’re th-the bihihiggehest leheher, I wahas wrohohong… plehehease, juhust doho ihihit ahalreheheheadyyy…”

Aria blinked down at him. He’s… asking me to wreck him. Just like that. In exchange for admitting it, he wants me to destroy him.

She smiled, and then she chuckled quietly.

“You’re adorable when you’re desperate~”

Before Ethan had time to process it, his wrist was released and he felt an unbearably gentle tracing in that little kill spot between his underarms and ribs, sending him into utter hysterics. She watched as his shoulders shook with laughter, his arms clamped to his sides and he tossed his head back, and yet he seemed almost relaxed. She knew why, too; the anticipation of going after his worst spot was finally over, he finally got the tickles he’d been expecting from her.

After a few more moments of tickling him senseless, she finally let up, gently patting him on the head and giggling softly as he batted at her hand.

She looked up to see their other six partners staring at her from a few feet away, all six pairs of eyes wide and all six faces blushing. She couldn’t resist the urge to smirk and raise her hands in wiggling claws, which sent all of them running in different directions, watching Confi struggle to make a decision before following Liv to her room.

Title secured.

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wonysugar · 5 months

Note

need sugarmommy wonyyyy

i need her too anon, i need ha tew..

okay but genuinely talking,, sugarmommy wonyoung would be so elegant? the rich, cold, collected and intimidating classy ceo that everyone knows and admires? yeah, that’s her. her name, jang wonyoung, would ring in your ears everytime you heard it. you’d grin just from spelling it out in your own head.

but that’s just because you admired her for other reasons.

the way you met her was truly unexpected but so very welcome though, you created an account on some local sugarmommy finding app that liz showed you a girlie’s gotta get her bag somehow. it was fairly average from the start, couple of matches here and there, but nothing really clicked.

that is, until you matched with her, of course.

you already knew who she was beforehand, which kinda made you wonder if this was the real deal? her texting habits made it clear to you, however, this was really her. she was just so eloquent with her words, so.. assertive? you felt hypnotized by simple pixels on your cellphone’s screen, your eyes slightly widening as she called you fancy nicknames like darling and sweetheart during casual conversation. she was so persuasive, you just wanted her to take complete control of your life from the get-go.

and to nobody’s surprise, that feeling just grew stronger each time you went out with her.

she’d always walk into the restaurants, expensive handbags and rings in hand, all because “coming empty-handed to a date would simply be ill-mannered of her”. hell, wonyoung even asked you which country you wanted to visit so she knew where to fly her private jet to next. she spoiled you rotten, really, and she didn’t even ask anything of you for the first few dates, and remained patient and attentive with you. she simply wanted to make you happy.

up until around 5 dates later.

she finally offered to bring you back to her mansion, after confessing that she secretly bought some lingerie she thought would suit you, and that she’d just love to see you try it on for her. yknow, a silly excuse to get you to see how big her house was.

you later figured out that her house wasn’t the only thing that was big!

this woman surprisingly had the most kinky objects in her possession, handcuffs, flogs, ropes, you name it. christian grey style, if you will. wonyoung, so composed and charming when it came to important meetings, yet so animalistic and rough when it came to sex. of course, she started slowly, asking you if you were ready for what was about happen, letting you know of a safe word, etc.

once that was done, she immediately got to work. planting rough kisses all over your body, muttering about how you were her pretty little thing and how nobody else could have you. you were hers, and she made sure to let you know of that.

i mean, you understood that pretty quickly when she roughly pounded your cunt with her probably-expensive-as-shit strap on. you didn’t even know rich people had those, and she didn’t even care if it hurt you. she wanted to fuck you good, and that’s what was bound to happen. her fingers rubbed on your throbbing clit insanely well, you could tell she had an insane amount of experience from the way she leaned into your ear and whispered praises into it. she’d treat you with unlimited amounts of respect anywhere else, but definitely not when she’s in her giant bedroom, stretching you out<33

oh and also, can we please talk about how stern this woman would be? you’d be begging, pleading her to go slower and she’d say something like “i don’t remember telling you that you could speak, love.” LIKE OU?? yes ma’am i am silent

or even in your day to day life?? bringing you to some expensive ass store that sells dresses with price tags that look like they could pass as math equations, you’d try and convince her that it’s too much and that she could you always buy you something cheaper elsewhere and her just shutting you down immediately going “nono, pick one, y/n, i absolutely insist.” like FUCKCK??

#jang wonyoung x female reader #ive jang wonyoung #wonyoung #wonyoung ive smut #ive #smut #kpop gg #female reader #ive smut #wonyoung ive #jang wonyoung ive #anon asks #anon #jang wonyoung

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bubybubsters · 8 months

Text

Book Boyfriends (Xaden x reader)

a/n: random midnight thoughts. Completely random on my phone, not proof read. Just finished fourth wing! Also I have 7 drafts I can’t seem to finish.

⚠️: none?

wc: 640

masterlist

Xaden growled as you shifted again, there was no fucking way he could sleep with you lying on top of him constantly shifting while reading a fictional book. He wondered what in the book made you squirm every few minutes. A plan forms as the gears in his mind start turning, and he grins because if he does this, you will be mad beyond measure. The first rule of dating you was, do not touch my books unless I give you explicit permission. Oh my was he going to break that rule (the only rule).

Xaden surged up, faster than you could react and pulled the book from your hands. Opening it fully, he started at the top of your current page, dimly registering your curses as you tried to pull the book from his grasp.

“His mouth found mine, the kiss open-”

The book was snatched from Xaden’s grip and he was faced with the face of his (currently very mad) girlfriend.

“What the actual fuck Xaden? You know my books are the one thing nobody is allowed to touch! Why in the world would you do that?”

Suddenly Xaden felt immensely guilty and he sat up, arms reaching for your stiff body. He remembered how you’d followed all his rules and didn’t push him to open up. Instead asking politely and waiting for him to meet you halfway. Xaden’s amused face instantly turned into one of regret.

“I’m so sorry y/n, I just wanted to know what you were so engrossed in and why you were squirming constantly right on top of my waist!”

You must have sensed the genuine apology and your eyes softened slightly but you said nothing, just putting the book on top of the bag you’d brought to his room. Sighing you turned to face him, “Xaden, I think it’s time to tell you why the books are so important. I know you’re going to say I don’t have to and I know I don’t. But I want to, I trust you.”

Picking up another book from your bag you flipped through it with a loving smile on your face. Xaden’s heart melted at the sight and he felt a little better. “These books are not from our world, that’s why their covers are so colorful. My dad told me that his great grandfather’s signet was to create a portal to another world. I won’t bore you with the details but the point is, these are the only books of their kind, at least in this world and the only possessions that I have from my dad. Now that you know, you can touch them, but please Xaden. Be careful.”

Xaden smiled at you, of course you would care for things like this, and since you cared, he did to. “I will, and I’m sorry about the stunt I pulled. I just wanted to know.” He opened his arms again, in a silent offer of apology.

You smiled at him and jumped into his arms, “just so you know wingleader, I was reading about my book boyfriend. His name is Rhysand, Rhys for short, Rhysie for shorter.”

You could fell Xaden stiffen against your body as you both lay down to sleep. “What the fuck is a book boyfriend? Aren’t I your only boyfriend?”

You chuckled, flicking his nose, “a book boyfriend is someone in a book that I would wish to be like my boyfriend in real life. And no, you’re not my only boyfriend, just the only real one.”

Xaden grumbles, obviously not happy with the arrangement. He hugs you to his chest, “I’m better and hotter than anyone you could dream of so I think I’d be the only boyfriend needed.”

You just laughed, snuggling into his chest and mumbling, “you tell yourself that.”

Xaden growls. “Rhysie isint even shorter than Rhys.”

You just snort out a laugh.

a/n: ill try to finish my 7 drafts but my last year of hs is starting! So yeah, not much time. Also I fell all my writing is shitty so, goodnight!

#xaden riorson #bubybubsters #fanfic #xaden #fourth wing #xaden riorson x reader #rhysand

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yuikomorii · 3 months

Note

Helloo! I don’t know if you remember me but I sent you once something about Yui in LE and now, after I played some routes, I can confirm that she’s my last fav Yui. 😬

// I have a complicated relationship with LE Yui, haha. I appreciate her for being more lively than CL Yui, but she mostly gave me the ick because she was definitely one of the most annoying LE characters.

I typically don't mind characters that are represented as jerks and upright mean, since you know what to expect from them, but I really dislike when characters who are portrayed as goody-shoes, do such messed-up and morally wrong things.

When I first went through LE, I didn’t start with Ayato’s route, given that I heard from many people about how tough it is and I wasn't emotionally prepared, so I started with others. I didn't like how she talked ill about her lover behind his back (more than once) and how her foolishness caused her to disclose critical secrets to people she shouldn't have and get into more troubles than normal. Nonetheless, I didn't think she was too bad… until Ruki's route, where she convinced the Mukami brothers that Karl wasn't a bad person because he returned their lives to "redeem" himself when we all know he only used them as pawns. But, if I thought THIS was bad, Ayato's LE route came.

~Things wrong with Yui in Ayato’s LE route~

1. Tried to convince Ayato that his abuser, Cordelia, genuinely cared for him. Given that his mother damaged his life, it's understandable that he would react negatively.

2. The main reason why Ayato didn’t want to trust Richter, wasn’t necessarily his trauma, but the fact Richter actually hurt Yui and, in his book someone hurting his girlfriend is unforgivable. Nevertheless, when his brothers started a scandal about Richter and all ganged up against Ayato, not even letting him express HIS point of view, Yui did nothing but stand there staring. Although, after Ayato blew up the mansion again as a result of reactive abuse, she acknowledged that his brothers attacking him like that wasn’t right, but she still didn’t say it out loud to defend him, when she knew the reason behind his actions.

3. After Reiji and Ruki became Ayato's enemies, she went to them without telling him, which made him concerned, to convey her man's sadness and loneliness. I'm sorry, but this was the dumbest plan ever, considering that it was evident they wouldn't have cared about it, and hearing such a thing made them even more eager to mock and plot his downfall. In the end, despite her good intentions, she solved nothing but made things worse, including being bitten by Reiji, which caused Ayato to lose his mind. Based on the previous events, I'm not shocked he believed she would betray him.

4. The scenes in which Ayato began acting coldly towards her were the highlights of his LE route. In other LE routes, after doing or saying stupid things, the disputes were resolved in the next chapter or those actions were never mentioned, but I enjoyed how she was actually humbled here. I adore Yui in general, but in LE, she deserved this treatment.

5. I assumed she had learnt her lesson, given that Ayato still cared for her despite his coldness, but then she goes to the Viboras to prove herself worthy of his trust. I liked how she tried to solve something (even if she didn't), but what made her behavior even WORSE was that 1) she justified Ruki giving Ayato a hard time and joining forces with the Church to kill him, and 2) she talked ill behind her lover's back despite telling Ayato the exact opposite face to face. I understand that Ayato didn't act very king-like, but at the same time, no one truly took him seriously or believed in him. Also, idk, but she should have tried to defend him, at least this time, instead of empathizing more with someone who hurt her man—?

Credit to: dialovers-translations on Tumblr

I also find it amusing how LE is the only main DL game with no wedding at all, especially since Ayato was usually the one to marry her. I think he secretly didn't want it in LE, given that he didn’t even think of proposing. :”)

She’s definitely not a bad girlfriend though, but I wouldn’t call her a very good one either. I think that’s another reason why I don’t want a new game. I’m afraid they’ll ruin her even more. T-T

#admin

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ode-to-oddette · 2 months

Text

unexpected.

after your planned date with tim takes an unexpected turn, you show him just how full of surprises you are…

word count: <500

warnings: not proof read…i kinda raw dogged this :p no use of y/n

notes: omg first thing of writing on here…im an autobiographical writer, haven’t touched fanfic since i was like 10. with that being said if i proof read it i won’t have the guts to post it. there will be better writing on my blog i promise. also super late for valentine’s day but it rained when i love the day of and no other day of the week n i thought it was funny.

“You told me you checked the weather Tim.”

You had called your boyfriend to let him know that a picnic wasn’t going to work. As soon as you woke up, the noise of rain pattered on your apartment’s roof, hitting you with the reality that being outside wasn’t an option.

“I did! Today is the first time this month it’s rained! But uhhhh should we do the Mary’s?” He tried to remedy the situation with the Italian restaurant in your university neighborhood.

“We go there all the time, can we do something special since it’s Valentine’s Day baby?” You smiled into the phone receiver. You knew he melted into man pudding when you called him baby and used that tone.

“Oh uhh-“ evidence of your work, “Anything you want. Maybe the rink and then hot chocolate after?”

“It’s a date.” You smiled, perfect time to show Tim what he didn’t know about you on the ice.

❅ ❅ ❅

Tim came to pick you up, you made sure to put on a raincoat. Not only to protect yourself from getting soaked, but also to reveal your outfit to your boyfriend in the car.

“Oh look at you, expecting to get some laps in?” He joked at the expense of your lululemon attire

“I like my pink define jacket, thank you very much”

“Hey! I like it too, definitely…tight. Hugs the right pla-“ You slap him on the shoulder, “Ow! Do you even know how to skate babe?”

This was your moment. Should you lie and wow him? Or should you tell the truth and loose your novelty? You lie.

“No actually, you’ll have to teach me.”

“That’s great actually, then you can’t let go of me-“ he smiled like an idiot before you interrupted him

“Don’t push it”

“Yes ma’am”

❅ ❅ ❅

You try not to be suspicious. ‘Act like you’re nervous, get shaky the first few minutes-‘

“Hey babe, need help with your skates?” Tim is an angel. As much as he likes to talk dirty, he genuinely cares and you always know it.

“Oh uhm, yes please”

“No problem.” he got on his knees and laced your skates up, “They need to be super tight, but not so tight you can’t bend your knees beyond a certain point.” Nobody could wipe the smile he had off his face. He was just happy to be teaching his girlfriend how to skate on Valentine’s Day.

“Thank you Tim. I feel like Cinderella, only my shoe has a sharp blade on it and my prince charming doesn’t know how to check the weather.” You giggle at his expense

“Im sure I’m a much better prince charming than whatever that guy had going on. Now stand up and see if it’s comfortable.”

“Perfect! Oh! I mean uhhh-“ You can’t let the jig be up, “Ouch super tight but I’ll be okay!”

Tim looks at you funny, but thought nothing if it, “Alright let’s go.”

❅ ❅ ❅

You can’t even stand it. You’ve been pretending to be awful at skating for almost 30 minutes. The real truth? You were on a figure skating scholarship just like how Tim was on a hockey one. You’d been skating since middle school and it had become a sport you loved deeply. You and Tim had been together for eight months, but the topic never really came up due to you thinking there were far more important things to your character.

“Can I try by myself?” your posture was awful, but it as about to be perfect in about 5 seconds

“Remember what I taught you about falling on your butt and not your face?”

It took so much not to roll your eyes, “Ill try not to fall because you like both of those things about me. think I’m okay.”

“Great! Let’s see you do 5 feet ahead. Go at any pace you want.”

You nodded, kissing him on the cheek. You immediately shifted into better posture, stopped shaking , and started skating at the pace you wanted, like he said. You begin with fluid crossovers, transitioning into quick footwork. With a push, you launch into a simple jump, landing with precision. You could feel the air whipping past your face as you gained speed. Your body twists and turns effortlessly, soon you’re skating circles around your boyfriend, who couldn’t do anything but look at you in shock. You stop right next to him.

“Was that okay?”

“Was that okay?? What are you doing studying here! People get injured all the time at the olympics I’m sure you could fill in and it would make no difference” He laughed in complete shock, “How long have you been skating for?

“More than 10 years”

“We should definitely take this to my place. You’ve won my heart. Not that you didn’t before I just- let’s go babe.”

“No I’m actually having so much fun!”

#matthew lillard #tim laflour x reader #tim laflour #tim laflour x you #tim laflour fluff #senseless 1998 #tim laflour fic

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malevolentcast · 1 year

Note

you probably already know about this but an articles been put out about rusty quills shitty business practices and general shady behavior. if you havent already, you might be getting messages about it soon. just wanted to send a heads up in advance

Yes I saw and read it.

I'm choosing to believe the motivations of those involved, in spite the poor optics of them being from another network (and even quoting what "they" pay as an example of "good" companies), were an attempt to be morally just. That is to say, I have no ill will towards the author, their editors and everyone who contributed.

To be clear; if Rusty Quill has treated employees poorly they should be held accountable, I say if not as a way to not believe those affected but because "alleged" is used more than a dozen times in the article.

Additionally, no employer should ever yell at an employee. Again, if that happened, they should apologize and do better.

That being said…

I don't appreciate articles speaking on behalf of me or, frankly, trying to rope me in without my consent or request. I recognize they weren't attempting to give me a voice, just those who are affected, however the author has only now allowed shows to reach out, after the damage has been done and chose to speak for me nonetheless. Additionally, the article says that if I remain silent, it's because I can't speak out - which is just nonsense.

From my experience; I've had nothing but great experiences with Rusty Quill. They're a network. They host my show. What else do I need them for? Contracts, NDA's and all the legal aspects that the article seemed to make such a big deal about… are very normal. I think this is part of not understanding how large companies work.

For example; I saw tweets upset that people shouldn't have to sign an NDA to look over a sample contract which… is exactly what you do when you're looking over a sample contract.

I was a General Manager of a small rental company for 10 years prior to trying my hand at Audio work and renting a water cooler had more stipulations than RQ's agreement. Contracts are meant to be all encompassing. If you don't agree with stuff, you cross it out and ask it to be changed. If you’re upset at the way large companies work, your fight is misdirected with addressing just one company. The article also mentioned something about "Taking Money Upfront" and stuff like that, which failed to mention you don’t HAVE to take money upfront - furthermore - most shows on RQ did not do that.

In any case, this isn't meant to be a dismantling of the article. I don't want to invalidate anyone's experiences or frustrations. Who knows what more may come to light, all I can speak of are my experiences and frustrations.

So why I'm frustrated? Well, I saw a few tweets and posts boycotting RQ shows, which included mine. So that sucked.

Overall however, I think the article was done in poor taste and felt like virtue signaling more than something trying to be helpful. I think, personally - and I say this with all the genuine sincerity - it seemed written from a perspective of inexperience and naivete. It is not the Watergate scandal people think it is.

And for the people who are upset that "peoples lives were ruined" when they were let go… yes I'm sorry people lost their jobs. I lost the aforementioned GM position as well when the owner of the company sold the company out from under me. Not because I did a bad job or because I made a mistake, just bad luck. It sucked, sometimes people lose their jobs. That doesn't mean I can't have an opinion on what I feel is an article meant to stir the pot. After all, shouldn't I express my perspective as a show on RQ (which, like, isn't that what the article was meant to be about?).

Anyway, those are my thoughts. For what it's worth I think you should still read the article! It has some great thoughts…

…but with all things, read it with an informed opinion; remembering that it was written by the Director of Marketing for another Podcast network, who references their own network within their "expose" as an example of a network with "good practices", during a time that they're recruiting for new shows and that every single show on that Network has openly supported the article - retweeting it almost instantly, during the final days of their competitors successful Kickstarter.

The disclaimer on the article about the Authors association with F&F wasn't put until AFTER they were called out. Odd that an expose on uncovering the truth would be less than transparent when posting…

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islesnucks · 2 years

Text

Show you - Mathew Barzal x Reader (4+1 fic)

A/N: its here!! barzy fic with a lot of romcom influence and a bunch of taylor swift lyrics references

Word count: 7.2 k

Warnings: mention of alcohol, mention of illness (nothing serious but just in case) and there's one scene where the reader throws up

Summary: after hearing something he shouldn't have Mat is set on proving he is serious about dating you

Masterlist

Add yourself to the taglist!!

“One date. Promise it will be worth your time.” he said followed by his signature half smirk, usual Barzal charm full of action.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I’m serious, I wanna take you out on a date.”

“You don’t wanna date me, you wanna take me to your bed because I’m the only girl here that’s not dreaming of that.” You gestured to the rest of the bar, more precisely the girl standing nearby that wouldn’t take her eyes off him. “It’s kind of childish really, the more you can't have it the more you want it.”

“I don’t wanna take you to my bed.” Pause. “At least not at first.” He corrected himself followed by a wink, and if said wink caused butterflies in your stomach you were going to deny it till you died. “I wanna take you on a couple dates first.”

You deadpanned at him. He wasn’t being serious, he couldn’t be. It was Mat after all. That’s how your relationship was: he’d jokingly flirt with you, you’d turn him down. It was a game, your little playful dynamic. It was never real.

“I’m not joking.” he persisted. His tone made you doubt, it sounded like he was being genuine.

“What has gotten into you?” He looked away, there was something he wasn’t telling you and it made you equally curious and anxious not knowing. “Mathew spill it out. Right now.”

“It was an accident, okay? I swear I wasn’t eavesdropping or anything.” The way he was nervously defending himself beforehand only made you feel worse. Your heart started racing. No, there was no way he could’ve heard that- “Last friday at Beau’s, you were talking to Emma …”

Shit. He had heard it.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that.” you said, looking away as your cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

“I know, I know. I swear it wasn’t on purpose, I was going to get a beer from the fridge and you two were talking in the kitchen.”

“Forget it.”

“You said you’d date me.”

“Mat, forget it.”

“You’d date me.” he repeated, as if he himself still couldn’t believe it.

“You’re missing the ‘if’. I said I would date you if you weren’t you.” You remembered it very clearly. The if that was just impossible to ignore because was essentially part of himself.

“I don’t get it.” You didn’t want to explain it, there was no point. Nothing good was gonna come out of it, nothing was gonna change.

“You’re a great guy Mat and I really like what we have, let’s just pretend I never said that and go back to normal.”

“I’m serious about this.” He wasn’t going to let it go, you knew him. But you weren’t going to simply accept, because you also knew the consequences that would inevitably follow.

To you it was no news you liked him, how could you not? Apart from his obvious good looks, he was funny and sweet and caring and many more amazing qualities that would make almost anyone like him. But you knew it could never go past that, past a silly little crush. Because apart from being all those good things Mathew Barzal was a manwhore and that was surely going to end up with you getting hurt. So you decided to ignore whatever it was you were starting to feel and to stick with the jokingly flirting, not allowing yourself to even entertain the idea of him being anything more than a friend.

“You don’t do dates.”

“I do with you.” You rolled your eyes. “Come on, you can't just rule me out like that, at least give me a chance.”

You looked at him for a second, really taking him in. It didn’t seem like he was lying or attempting one of his stunts to just take a girl home, you had seen a lot of them. Still you weren’t going to give in and he could tell the hesitation in your eyes.

“I’m not like you Mat. I don’t fool around. I’m 99.9% sure if I let the slightest thing happen between us I’m gonna end up hurt because I can’t keep things casual and casual is all you do.”

He looked taken aback by it, like he suddenly realized the reputation he had and how it could make anyone not take him seriously.

“I’m gonna prove it to you.” he suddenly said after a moment of silence. Now it was your turn to look at him in confusion. “I’m gonna show you I’m serious about this.”

Before you could analyze what he truly meant Tito arrived, putting an end to the topic.

The bar started getting more and more crowded by the minute and in said crowd, just like every other night you went out with these two, there were girls looking over at your table, looking over at them. You were already used to it, at some point Tito was going to complain about how awkward it was making him feel and how much he missed Emma, and Mat being the polar opposite would enjoy every second of the female attention until deciding which girl was going to be his catch of the night and go for it.

Tito did as expected, however Mat was still sitting by your side pretending not to notice them. You then understood it was part of his plan to show you he was being serious about wanting to date you, how serious would he look if he went and made out with another girl in front of you?

“This must be killing you.” you told him.

“What exactly?” Mat turned to look at you. He knew what you were talking about. Tito’s ‘here we go’ got lost under the noise, but his face said it all. Everyone, prepare yourself for another round of banter.

“Not being able to take any of these girls home.” you explained, even though there was no explanation needed. “That blonde one is basically throwing herself at you. You can always accept you weren’t serious about me and go with her. I won’t be offended, I swear.”

Part of you really enjoyed seeing him try to prove himself to you, being his center of attention. But you wouldn’t get your hopes up because he still was Mathew Barzal and there was a big chance, huge chance, he just wanted to get into your pants and once you put enough resistance he would simply give up and move on to the next girl who would hopefully (and probably) give in way easily. He’d probably forget about it and go back to his old ways next week.

“No thanks. The only girl I wanna take home is sitting next to me, but as I said that won’t happen before a couple dates. I’m a gentleman.” Tito chuckled, not the world he’d use to describe his friend.

“Such a gentleman.” you added, eyes squinting in annoyance accompanied by a fake smile. However his smile wasn’t fake, he was enjoying this a little too much.

“I’m getting another one. Want one?” You nodded and handed him your glass as he got up.

You watched as he made his way through the crowd to the bar, his broad shoulders pushing through the sea of bodies moving to the rhythm of the music. Faces turned when he walked by, some because they recognized him and others simply because of his looks.

“What’s that thing about proving he’s serious?” Tito brought you back to reality, your thoughts were still stuck on Mat’s shoulders.

“Apparently he wants to date me, but it’s Mat, we both know he’s incapable of anything remotely close to seriously dating someone.”

“So he finally confessed, eh?” Your brows furrowed at his comment. “Shit, he didn’t. Just forget I said anything.”

“Anthony!” you said a little too loud earning some weird looks from the people around you. “You can’t just say something like that and then tell me to forget it!”

“Ok, look I shouldn’t tell you this, but believe him. I know Barzy is Barzy, but when he says it’s you over any girl he’s not lying. Give him a chance to prove himself.”

That only made you more confused. Tito told you to give him a chance so was Mat being sincere? Did he really want to date you? No, that couldn’t be true. Tito wouldn’t just say something like that to help his friend, it couldn’t all be part of Mat’s scheme to get into your pants, could it? Were you seriously considering giving Mathew Barzal a chance? Your plan to not get your hopes up was already off to a rocky start.

Too lost trying to make sense of everything that had happened the past hour, you didn’t notice Mat was already back with one glass on each hand and a smirk on his face. You tried to shake off that weird dubious feeling that had settled in.

“One for the lady.” he said, placing the glass in your hands and then took his previous spot on the couch between you and Tito. “So, what did I miss?” He could help but notice your change in demeanor since he had left.

“Nothing.” Tito was quick to answer, but something did happen. A lot had happened.

Your head was killing you and the ringing of your apartment’s bell wasn’t making it any better. Guessing it was just a door-to-door salesman you ignored it, but a minute later there it was again. You got up, ready to tell off whoever it was that was bothering you, but before you could even talk Mat was already asking you to let him in. Extremely confused you did so, knowing there was no point in asking for an explanation over the intercom.

“W-what are you doing here?” you said opening the door only to be met by the man himself holding a grocery bag.

“You’re sick, right?” he asked and you nodded slowly, confused as to how he could know since you hadn’t told anyone.

“How did you-” The obvious answer came to mind before you even finished the question. “Emma.”

“Well not Emma exactly.” he explained as he walked into your apartment, heading to the kitchen. “Beau mentioned earlier at practice she was supposed to be hanging out with you today but you canceled cause you weren’t feeling good.”

He placed the grocery bag on your kitchen counter and started to look through the cabinets as you inspected what was inside the bag. A small smile appeared in your lips when you recognize the containers. You tried to hide it quickly when he turned around to face you but he caught it.

“So you bought soup and my favorite dessert and your plan is to what? Look after me?”

“Yeah.” he answered matter of factly. This was clearly part of his ploy to show you he was serious about you, since you assumed he didn’t show up to take care of just any girl when they were sick. “Now go get comfy and put on a movie or something. I’ll heat this up and help you with anything you need.”

You were too tired to even attempt to put any kind of resistance against his stuid plan. Plus it would be nice to feel taken care of, especially in the state that you were in. So with a simple shrug of your shoulders you left him in the kitchen and headed back to the couch.

The possibility of Mat burning down your apartment trying to heat up the soup was real, too real; but minutes had gone by and the fire alarm still hadn’t gone off. Before you knew it he was handing you a steamy soup bowl with a proud smile on his face, he was also worried about burning down the place.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Anything else I can do for you?” He seemed eager to help, to prove himself useful.

“Not that I can think of.”

His face fell. Yes, this was all to prove he was boyfriend material. Still he didn’t want to go, it felt wrong to leave you all alone when you weren’t feeling good, he wanted to be there for you. You could tell this, it was clear in his face, and truth be told you didn’t want him to leave, it was nice having him around, especially if he was willing to play your personal maid for the day. You could also tell he wasn’t going to ask to stay, he didn’t want to bother or be a burden. You’d have to ask him to stay, leaving your pride aside because at the same time you’d be helping him prove his point.

“Could you stay? You know in case I get worse and get a fever and stuff.”

“Yes, yes. Obviously.” He tried not to sound so excited about it. He failed.

At first he took a seat on the armchair beside the couch. He crossed his legs, then uncrossed them, leaned against the backrest, started bouncing one leg, leaned forward elbows resting on his thighs, leaned back again and started drumming his fingers on the armrests. Unable to find a comfortable position, he got up and started walking around the living room, just couldn’t stay still. You could hear him, feel him pacing up and down behind you, the creaking of the floor driving you insane.

“Mat?” He stopped, finally.

“Yes?” You signaled with your hand for him to come closer and he did. When he appeared again in front of you he looked worried, ready to call an ambulance.

“Can you please stop moving around? I swear all your pacing is making me feel sicker.”

“Yeah, sure.” He sat again on the armchair and finally the only thing that could be heard was the movie playing on the tv. It lasted less than a minute.

“I’m sorry. I never really took care of someone sick, except for my sister that one time but she was 10 and my mother told me what to do over the phone so it doesn't count. I don’t exactly know what to do. Do you want water? Another blanket? Tea? More soup?”

Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t all just part of his plan to prove you wrong. Maybe he genuinely cared. And maybe (definitely) your heart warmed at his concern.

“Come here.” You patted the spot next to you on the couch.

He sat but his eyes were stuck on the tv. He was being weird, weirder than usual. You took his hand, making him face you. He still looked uneasy, not the chill Mat you were used to.

“You’re doing a great job, okay? I’m already feeling better.” He relaxed a little. ”Now please just calm down and enjoy the movie. I chose one with cartoons so you could understand it.”

“So funny.” His words dripped sarcasm, the Mat you knew was back.

As the movie went on it was getting harder and harder to fight the sleep; to keep your eyes from closing, your head from falling. At one point you gave into it, closed your eyes and let your head rest on Mat’s shoulder. And if you cuddled closer into him, that happened unconsciously when you were already asleep.

Mat got tense at first. Ever since this started, this being him knowing he had the slightest chance with you, everything that once was normal between the two of you had a whole new meaning for him, made him feel and think and react in a whole new way. This wasn’t the first time you had fallen asleep on him. Okay, yes, the previous times were because you were too bored or too drunk at some party and needed somewhere to rest your head; you were in the middle of the club or someone’s place surrounded by people. Now it was different, you could’ve laid against the armrest but you laid against him, and you were alone in your place. It felt intimate. It made him feel anxious or maybe nervous, he wasn’t sure what he felt, but it was the good kind of feeling.

You weren’t sure how you ended up this drunk. Well, you actually did but you weren’t going to admit it even to yourself yet. Tito helped you into the uber, or maybe it was Mat? You also weren’t sure about that.

At some point you got to your place. You were changing into your pajamas when you heard a noise in the kitchen. Slowly you made your way there and almost had a heart attack when you spotted a man’s figure roaming your fridge. Almost, until you noticed it was Mat.

“Dude you scared me.” He turned around confused. “I forgot I wasn’t alone.”

“You’re that drunk?” You flipped him off. “See I was getting you a glass of cold water, but if you’re gonna treat me like that I don’t think you deserve it.”

Your mouth watered at the thought of water. You were indeed that drunk. He laughed at the look in your eyes when he mentioned water and handed you the glass, which you took no time in gulping down.

“Slow down or you're gonna-” he started to say but the look in your face told him it was too late.

“Shit.” you said and rushed to the bathroom, hand on your mouth trying to at least delay the inevitable till you reached your toilet.

Mission accomplished, you made it in time but that didn’t make what followed any nicer. In no time Mat was behind you, holding your hair with one hand and caressing your back gently with the other. It just wouldn’t stop, when you felt it was over and there couldn’t possibly be anything left in your stomach to be pushed out, there it was again.

“Still wanna date this puking mess?” you were able to joke in that rare moment your body decided to give you a break between pukes.

“I wanna date this puking mess so much you have no idea.” he said and sounded so genuine you could’ve smiled had it not been the feeling of more disgusting liquid coming up your throat.

Eventually the throwing up stopped, thankfully, and Mat helped you up from your bathroom floor. He kept his arm around you as he guided you to your room, not that you needed it but you weren’t going to complain.

You let yourself fall into the mattress the second you reached your bed, too tired (and still drunk) to care about sleeping over the comforter or the position you were in. Mat’s soft chuckled could be heard behind you, making your insides tingle at the sound. It was hot, you could admit that.

“Why did you drink that much?” he asked as he helped you get in a more sleeping-appropriate position. It was more of a rhetorical question but your drunk brain didn’t catch that. Apparently your drunk brain also felt like being honest and sharing a truth you hadn’t even shared with yourself yet.

“That bitch wouldn’t stop checking you out.” Mat looked down at you surprised. “Sorry she wasn’t a bitch, that’s not very feminist from me.”

“You got drunk because a girl was looking at me?”

“Not exactly like that.” Your train of thought wasn’t the brightest back at the party and now wasn’t much better. You were sure what you were about to explain wasn’t going to make any sense, but again your drunk brain didn’t care. “She wouldn’t stop looking at you and then she was playing beer pong and I really wanted to beat her because she was looking at you.”

“But you suck at beer pong.”

“I know. She kicked my ass.”

He laughed. It wasn’t the cocky laugh you expected after admitting you had gotten jealous over him; it was a sweet laugh. Actually what was sweet wasn’t the laugh itself but the way he was looking at you, his eyes were full of adoration. You should’ve felt embarrassed after just confessing that, but you weren’t because it was Mat. Not old stupid-fratty-dude Mat, it was this new lovely caring Mat. You could almost feel your hopes getting up but the second and the alcohol in your blood wasn’t helping.

His laughter died when he felt the way you were looking at him so intensely, intrigued by what was going on in your head. “Penny for your thoughts.”

When he spoke your eyes went to his lips and so did your thoughts.

“You have really kissable lips.” Any type of filter you had was gone because of the alcohol. “They look soft and big. I once thought you had fillers. Still kinda do honestly.”

There it was again, that laugh, that smile that made your insides burn. “You’re gonna regret saying all of this in the morning.”

“Kiss me.” The words left your lips before your head even processed them, not that it would’ve made a big difference if you had.

“What?”

“I really want you to kiss me Mat.” Your hand went up to cup his face, to draw him closer, but he didn’t move.

“And I really, really want to kiss you. Believe me I do. But it’s not gonna be like this.”

You pouted, earning a chuckle and roll of eyes from him. It took every bit of self control he had not to kiss that pout out of your lips.

“I’m gonna kiss you one day, you just wait.” Now you were rolling your eyes, cocky Mat was coming back, but just like Mat in general this was a new cocky, a cocky you could tolerate and actually liked. “When I finally kiss you it won’t be because you’re drunk and needy-”

“Hey!” You punched him in the chest, trying your hardest to seem offended. The smile on your face didn’t help you sell the part.

“When I finally kiss you you’ll want me to kiss you, there’s gonna be no doubt in your mind how serious I’m about you, how real my feelings are.”

He left you speechless. If only he knew your barrier was breaking down and you were second away from reaching that point, from falling completely head first blindly for him.

You held his gaze until you couldn’t anymore, still drunk and exhausted your body gave in and your eyes closed.

Mat thought you had passed out, if not he would have said it. “You’re the one for me, I know it. I’ll prove it to you.”

You heard him. Then you felt his lips gently kissing your forehead and lastly his steps walking away.

Mat was losing his mind, which wasn’t ideal since the game was going to start any minute. He couldn’t get the image out of his head, you sitting next to that other guy, laughing at something he said. The brain was a tricky thing because the moment he could stop thinking about it his eyes would wander to that specific sector where he knew you were sitting and it was hell all over again.

The first period ended and they were tied on 0, so even if his head wasn’t in the game it wasn’t that bad. The problem was when by the end of the second period they were down by 2, one being a puck lost by Mat because he couldn’t stop looking over where you were and the second a power play goal made on a stupid penalty he took when frustration took over.

The second intermission came and by the way Anders was glaring at him as they made their way off the ice he knew what was about to come. He took a seat next to him, which wasn’t his usual seat, and laid it on him the second Lambert was done giving indications.

“Get your shit together man. What has gotten into you?”

“Nothing. Bad day.” Anders looked at him, not believing a single word. Then he looked over at Tito sitting on Mat’s other side waiting for an explanation.

“She came with another guy to the game.” There was no need to clarify who the she was.

“Look Mat, the girl you like brought another guy to your game, it sucks, believe me I get it. But the worst thing you can do is play like shit in front of them, ok? You’re the most competitive guy I know, go there and play the game of your life, show off, make her regret it.” Mat nodded. That was exactly what he needed, to use this as fuel to play better, as motivation.

Before they left the locker room and headed back to the ice he sent you a text. It was a simple ‘meet me outside the lockers after’. He wasn’t just going to leave it like that. Yes he was the one trying to prove something and pushing for a date, but after what had happened the last couple weeks it felt like things had changed, things were heading in the right direction. This didn’t make sense, it felt like a betrayal no matter how dramatic it sounded, and he felt like he was owed an explanation.

Anders' words indeed worked because he was a completely different player that last period, even came close to scoring a natural hatty had it not been for the final bell. With his two goals and one by Pelly they completed the comeback and won the game.

You watched the clock run out of time, begging for it to go slower. Mat’s text confused you, you had no clue what it was about but it couldn’t be good. You decided it would be better to head over there and get whatever it was going on over with before the game ended and thousands of fans started to flood the hallways trying to get out. So after saying goodbye to Pete, sending him off with some lame excuse about having to catch Emma before she left, you made your way to the locker room.

You had been there before maybe once or twice, normally choosing to wait for your friends outside the arena. It felt weird, even out of place, to be there surrounded by girlfriends and wives of the players when you were neither. Thankfully the girls hadn’t arrived yet, it was just you, some stuff and guards.

Mat had apparently given your name to security because you were allowed in the private zone without any problem and just in time to see them walk down the hallway, big smiles and victorious screams after such a great comeback.

The ones that noticed you said a simple hi or gave you a friendly nod. Mat was the last to get off the ice since he had been named first star of the game and his whole attitude changed the second he saw you there waiting for him. Bad signal.

“Congratulations-” you started to say when he approached you but were cut off by his hand grabbing yours and gently drawing you some steps away from the locker room entrance. You thought he’d shower and change before you talked about whatever it was he so urgently needed to talk about, but it seemed it couldn’t wait.

He had his helmet on one hand and stick on the other. Skates still on so now he towered even more over you. It was weird to have him standing in front of you in his uniform.

“Do you like me?” he let out, cutting straight to the chase.

“W-what?” You were taken aback by it.

“Do you like me? It’s a yes or no question.” It was not that simple, even if you had known he’d ask that it would’ve taken you some time to come up with the right answer. Hell, even you didn’t know the answer to that yet. Yes, you liked him but was that the type of like he was referring to? Was it like as in friends? As in more than friends? As in friends that could potentially be more than friends eventually?

“Mat what’s going on?” You avoided his question again, hoping he’d give you an explanation and you could move on from it.

“Ok, I’m gonna assume you like me because I like you. I like you a lot. So much that I’ve been trying to prove to you how much I like you and how serious I am about this. It would be a huge fucking pity if after everything you don’t even like me.” He could feel himself getting more heated up by the second, adrenaline still running in his veins from the game.

“I don’t get where this is going.”

“If you like me, why are you going on a date with another guy? Why are you bringing him to my game? What kind of sick game is this?” Once you realized what he was talking about you had to fight back your laugh.

“This is about Pete?”

“So he’s called Pete.”

“Pete my friend. My coworker. My married coworker may I add.”

“Oh.” was all he was able to say. He stared at you in slack-jaw, processing everything.

Mat had done some pretty stupid things in his life but this had to be on the top 10. He should've known it was not what it looked like, he knew you and knew you wouldn’t do something like that.

“Yeah ‘oh’.” you replied with a smile on your face. The more you thought about it the funnier the whole situation was.

“Can we just pretend this never happened?” His cheeks turned red and he scratched the back of his neck. It was adorable to see Mat out of his element, his confident exterior completely gone.

“I don’t think I want to, you look cute freaking out.”

“I’m cute, eh?” And just like that the Mat you knew was back, embarrassment disappearing as his cocky smile grew.

“Shit forgot rule number one: never give Mathew Barzal a compliment.”

“You’ve got more rules?” He leaned against the wall and accompanied the question with a jerk of his head.

“Rule number two: he will automatically assume the worst so be careful who you hang out with.”

“Ha. Funny.”

“If it makes you feel better it showed you care. In a really stupid twisted way, but it did.”

“Good. Because I really do care.” He said with so much sincerity, looking you in the eyes, hoping you could see in his how genuine he was being.

“I know.” you replied with the same amount of honesty.

The two of you went silent, only staring at each other with bright eyes and adorable smiles. There was nothing left to say.

If you had to pinpoint the moment in which you gave up trying to hold back your feelings this would be it. You had unsuccessfully tried to not get your hopes up all this time, while truly you knew there was no point in trying, it was gonna happen anyway. The only thing left for you to do was hope it didn’t end up with you getting hurt.

As if he could read your mind Mat opened his mouth, ready to ask you that one question again, but in that moment the locker room doors flung open.

“Barzy!” Anders called him, his head peeking through the door. “You and Pelly are up for the postgame interview, go shower already.”

“I should go.” he said and you nodded. He started walking away reluctantly, not wanting to leave you, not wanting the moment to be over. You didn’t want it to be over either.

“Mat?” you called and he turned around. “Are you free on friday?”

“Are you asking me on a date?” One of his brows went up in amusement.

“Still haven’t decided if I’m calling it a date or not.” He was not going to push it, not when after all he was (maybe) getting what he had been after all this time.

“I’m free.”

“Good. We can arrange everything later.”

“Good.”

There you were again, looking at each other with stupid love eyes, unable to hide your happiness. Mat told himself he was going to wait, he was going to rush it, but God he wanted to grab your face and kiss you so much it was painful to abstain.

“Mathew!” It was Anders again, this time louder and more annoyed.

“I’m going! I’m going!” he shouted back and rolled his eyes, making you laugh. “See you on Friday.”

He leaned in to kiss your cheek, that would have to make it for now. That tingle in your stomach was back, you’d have to call it The Mat Barzal Effect because he was the one always causing it. It made you feel like a silly 15 year old with a crush, which apart from the age wasn’t that far from the reality.

“Goodbye Barzal.” you said as he walked away.

He stopped to give you a final smile before pushing the doors open and walking in. That stupid tingling again.

His teammates looked at him as he walked over to his stall, each one of them ready to chirp him about the lovesick look he had in his face and the spring he suddenly had in his step. Anders was the first. “I’m gonna assume that smile isn’t because you got named first star.”

For a not date, it looked a lot like one. You wouldn’t have spent an hour dressing and undressing looking for the perfect outfit, and another extra hour fixing your hair and makeup, if it were just two friends hanging out. Mat wouldn’t have shown up at your door with flowers if it were just two friends hanging out. Most importantly the two of you wouldn’t be this nervous if this wasn’t a date, but still you refused to call it that.

It was tense at first, a bit awkward, but once you sat on the table he had reserved everything started to ease up. There was an unspoken pact to not talk about that certain topic, the elephant in the room, the reason you were sitting at the restaurant having a lovely dinner in the first place. So you spoke about everything else.

Conversation flew but you expected it to. Nerves aside it was Mat after all, you were friends, kind of. You talked, joked, laughed; as if it was a normal night with him just hanging out like you’ve done many times before.

He was charming, he always was charming with you, but this time you saw him with different eyes. When he told you you looked beautiful for the fourth time you didn’t roll your eyes thinking it was just a joke; you thanked him and even blushed a little. This new Mat, that was exactly like the old Mat but with a different undertone echoing his words an action; this new Mat was making you fall harder than what you expected. And while the idea of free falling into him and letting your emotions run wild was tempting you had to hold yourself back.

After dinner he proposed to go for a walk in an attempt to prevent the no-date from ending. You agreed, not wanting the night to end either. As soon as you walked into the street he took your hand in his and you were about to make some snarky comment about how holding hands was only reserved for real dates, but it felt good to have his hand wrapped around yours. Plus you could take it had taken him a leap of faith and a bit of courage for him to do it so naturally by the way he was avoiding all eye contact, so you decided to be nice just this once.

You walked into a park and when you passed by a nice bench illuminated by a lamppost it felt like a divine sign that it was the time and place to have that conversation.

“Let’s sit for a moment.” you said, already dragging him to the bench by your still entangled hands.

“It’s time to have that talk, isn’t it?” You could almost see the nerves from before coming back to him.

“Chill Barzal. I’m not going to interrogate you or anything. I just have one question.”

“Ok, shoot.”

There was no doubt in your mind Mat has proven he could seriously date someone, but part of you still wondered if he wanted to date you. Part of you was terrified that the only reason he was set to prove you wrong in the first place was because that night he heard you say he could have a chance. It was cynical to think you were just a challenge for him, especially after what you had gone through the past weeks, but you couldn’t help it.

“I know we’ve always had this kinda playful dynamic where you flirt with me and I pretend you’re the most despisable man on earth, and I always took it as a joke. Was it always a joke until you heard me and Emma that night?”

There it was, the question was out in the open and Mat now held in his hands the future of whatever it was the two of you were building. He took a second to reply, a second that felt like eternity and only made the anxious feeling grow inside of you.

“Kind of. Yes.”

Your heart broke. He gave you the one answer you were hoping he wouldn’t. When it all started you told yourself you’d never get your hopes up for him exactly for this reason, but you couldn’t control it and they inevitably did. But before tonight you swore no matter how much you wanted it you’d put an end to it all if there was the slight chance his feelings and desire to date you suddenly started after realizing he simply could.

You moved your hand away from his. He noticed the impact his answer had on you and has to fix it. He couldn’t let it slip away just because he chose the wrong words.

“No. Wait.” He took your hand in his again.

“Mat-” you started to say and pulled your hand away again but he cut you off and tightened the grip.

“It’s more complicated than that.” He was silently begging you to let him explain. Since you didn’t move away he took that as a yes. “See I always liked you, ever since Emma introduced you to the group. But I know my reputation, so I knew you wouldn’t date me. I never blamed you for it, I know I haven’t been the most stand up guy when it comes to my love life. So I guess I started to jokingly flirt with you to deal with my feelings in a way. If it was just a joke then it wasn’t real.”

“And then you heard me that night.” you added. He nodded.

“And then I heard you that night. When I realized I had the slightest chance with you I knew I had to take it.”

“That was a way better answer than your first one.” you said, unable to hide your smile.

Mathew Barzal had passed the test. Any ounce of doubt that was left in your mind disappeared. He liked you, he really liked you and had done so for longer that you ever imagined. It wasn’t some shallow meaningless plan to get his way with you. Now you were ready to dive in head first fearless.

“You seriously never noticed how much I like you?” He always thought he wasn’t being that obvious, but according to everyone that had ever seen you two intercat Mat was. Sometimes he couldn’t take his eyes away from you, even when you were standing on the other side of the room. He’d laugh a little too much at a joke you made. He’d always order your favorite drink for you whenever you went out. Countless times his friends had chirped him about it. It was crystal clear to everyone, to everyone except you.

“I always thought you were joking. That and I didn’t think I was your type”

“What!?” he seemed genuinely shocked by your answer. You were a little embarrassed to admit how much you had compared yourself to the girls he would flirt with, but you had done it and it was painfully clear you weren’t the type.

“Come on, I’m not like the girls you usually like Mat. I’m not like the instagram models, new york socialites, puck bunnies, bombshells you normally pick up on bars. I’m just me.”

“Well just you is a thousand times better. Just you has been driving me crazy from the day we met with her snarky comments and roll of eyes.” You rolled your eyes at his comment but couldn’t stop the blush from creeping into your cheeks. “You're beautiful and smart and funny and nice. I thought you were so out of my league. Still think so.”

“Well you convinced me Barzal, there’s no doubt in my mind how serious you are, how real your feelings are.” you repeated his words from that night.

“You remember that?” he asked surprised.

“You didn’t expect me to?” Your eyebrow went up defyingly.

“No, no. It’s just we never talked about it after so I just assumed you were too drunk and forgot everything.”

“Mhm. And I also heard something about being the one for you.” His cheeks turned red and he looked away. A shy Mathew Barzal might be the cutest thing you had ever seen. “Are you blushing? Am I making the Mathew Barzal blush? Oh my god-”

Your words died the moment he attached his lips to yours. It was clumsy at first as you laughed against his lips, but you fell into rhythm when you tilted your head so your lips could meet firmly and happily at once. His lips were soft like you had joked that night, and they tasted like the wine you had shared over dinner. It was intoxicating, the feeling of his lips on yours, his hand in your waist pulling you closer, your hand on the back of his neck. He gripped you firmly, as if trying to stop you from escaping.

You were the one to pull away first, but his lips chased yours making you giggle. You gave him a final peck, knowing there would be plenty more kissed like this sooner rather than later. That made your heart burst with happiness.

“Would you go out on a date with me?” he asked once again, knowing this time he would earn himself a different answer. You smiled up at him.

“I don’t know…”

“Smartass.” he said in the most endearing way possible as his hand went to cup your face, drawing you closer so his lips could find yours again.

You whispered a ‘yes’ into the kiss, but were unsure if he heard it. He didn’t have to anyway, he already knew the answer.

Well hope you guys liked it!! It feels so good to be back. Likes and reblogs are always appreciated and dont be affraid to tell me your thoughts on the fic. Thank you so much!!! <3

taglist pt1:

@glassdanse @2manytabsopen @tazeboes @barbienoturbby @nilspettersson @sweetlittlegingy @mcsteamylove98 @ttylfedora @chieflawyerpastatoad @iwantahockeyhimbo @cherrymaybank @fallinallincurls @samsteel @jordiee95 @heatherawoowoo @tysonsjosty @barzysreputation @stars-canucks @farabeezers @4ambagelbites @kaitieskidmore1 @sodalatte @hotgirlhockey @matwith1t @tseggys91 @audryahoo @maximoff-xmenn @astrydiss @barzysandmarnersbitch @joelsfarabees @bitchforbarzyy @caufieldmakesmesmile @deloughreyey @thotforthedevilsils @brias1201 @besthockeyfics @ya-pucking-nerd @Dreamer1430 @hoiyheadharpies @notanaccount-anymore @wambach1 @abbisamson @mckenna4 @rosesvioletshardy @tysonjost-taylorsversion @noeaerialist @cybertradgedies @hockeyunits @canadiansassymama78 @whoeverineedtobe @siriusly-parker @captainbarnes12 @brandtsclarke @ilyasorokinn

if your url is crossed out im sorry but for some reason it wont let me tag you, also if you've changed your url and would like to still be in the taglist please let me know and obviously if you want to be taken out of the taglist just let me know no hard feelings i promise <3

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