#this is what happens when i forget to take my meds for too long
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Goodnight I am going to bed extremely sad because Halsin isn’t a real person
and also i have no one to be intimate and romantic with so if anyone falls in love with me overnight lmk
#lmfao#olivia please#why are you like this#this is what happens when i forget to take my meds for too long#i’m FINE#a little lonely lately :)#i’ll be okay#i just wish i could find someone who didn’t suck and is close#olivia’s observations#i have a meeting and an end of field season dinner tomorrow#goodnight#you can send asks if you want!#you don’t have to
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POUNDED BY DR. GLOBUS
wanted to post today about recent health journey of chuck. ALL STARTED at texas show when i began to feel tightness in throat. i have learned this is called GLOBUS which is a tingler character name if ive ever heard one. got through appearance and had blast but felt terrible
plane journey home was even worse. first thought i strained my voice, then tested for covid (negative) and then figured it was just some kind of virus. had running nose and hoarse and extreme pain behind face and MOST of all this golf ball throat
figured i would get better as viruses tend to go but I DID NOT. after a few weeks went to way of urgent care and they took one look and said you have EXTREME FORM OF ACID REFLUX called laryngopharyngeal reflux (also great tingler character name)
basically this is when your stomach acid comes all the way back up into your throat and erodes it. they immediately put me on medications name of pepcid plus tums plus gaviscon and on and on. was inhaling a dang pharmacy every morning
problem is, NO CHANGE. in fact it started getting worse. in addition to previous symptoms i now couldnt keep any food down. upset stomach all the time. could barely sleep. plus it is scary to have a sickness that gets WORSE over time like this
more doctor talks. i up doses of medication to combat sickness but does not seem to work. one night wake up and think 'dang i need to go to er my stomach is going to just melt or something' (keep in mind because i cant keep food down i am always hungry too).
i go to hospital and they say 'WHOA we need to intervene right now we are doing some tests and putting you on SERIOUS LIFE CHANGING MEDICINE. but here is catch to do the tests we need you to stop all your medication for 48 hours and it will be HECK but you gotta do it bud'
so i stop all medication in preparation for new SICK LIFE and suddenly… i start feeling better. not just a little but after weeks of this awful way i wake up in ONE DAY and feel fully cured. now heres twist: at the same time this was happening I started taking allergy medicine
you may already know where i am going with so i will just hit you with it. my INITIAL SICKNESS was just extreme seasonal allergies that required nothing more than claritin and flonase. however i was misdiagnosed with ACID REFLUX and medication was making my stomach a wasteland
the second i stopped taking acid reflux meds and started on allergy trot i was better almost instantly. today i feel HECKIN GREAT. (SIDE NOTE: after 4 years of chronic pain i am so thankful to not have some OTHER long term health trot to deal with. DANG)
so what is lesson here? first of all please do not think this is in ANY WAY anti-doctor rant or anti-medicine. my doctors were trying their best and made a mistake, they are just people. ALSO while acid reflux medicine made me sick, allergy meds made me better. i am SO fortunate
but what is REALLY fortunate is that chuck is covered under SWEET BARBARAS HEALTH CARE (she gets very good coverage under the frozen lake). most artist buckaroos, even WILDLY successful ones, do not have health care which is huge issue that should be talked on more.
point is EVERYONE should have healthcare. this whole adventure was bad, but it also only cost me 50 dollars. hundreds of thousands of other buckaroos would have to deal with this PLUS it would completely upend their life to cover medical expenses because of a SIMPLE MISTAKE
so that is my story, usually there is more of a lesson to these rants but this one is really just ‘dang what a trip.’ so grateful for my health and my way and the fact i can get simple allergy medicine over the counter. most of all THANKFUL FOR MY BODY it is such a treat to exist
thank you for reading and remember to advocate for yourself and your feelings both BODY and MIND at the doctor. listen to your trot and do not forget that LOVING YOURSELF AND THE SYSTEMS OF YOUR BODY proves love just as much as loving others. trot on buckaroos
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i'll keep it all to myself
7x04 coda (she's back, baby xoxo)
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“Hey, killer.”
Buck winces, mouth already tripping over an apology as he moves into the Diaz living room. “Eddie, I’m so sorry-“
“Buck, I’m kidding,” Eddie interrupts, exasperated and just a little fond. He hasn’t been on the receiving end of that tone in a few days. It’s embarrassing to say he missed it. “Sit down.”
Buck takes the armchair instead of sitting on the couch next to Eddie. He’s not sure why. He never sits in the armchair. Sitting in it now he almost feels…off balance. But then catching sight of Eddie’s foot propped up on the coffee table sobers him immediately and he forgets all about the strange discomfort in his stomach.
Reaching for the cushion behind him, he gets up again. “You should have something under that,” he says, gently lifting Eddie’s leg to place the cushion on the table. He lowers it again carefully, nodding in satisfaction when Eddie’s foot is nestled safely in the cushion. “The table is too hard.”
“Oh sorry, I thought I was the one with real medical training,” Eddie quips but there’s no bite behind the words.
“Yeah but I’m the one with crush injury experience,” Buck says, kicking his own legs up on the table in proof.
Eddie opens his mouth as if to argue back but then closes it again, rolling his eyes, but his lips twitch a bit. Just at the corners.
“Eddie, I really am sorry,” he says, straightening in his seat and forcing himself to meet Eddie’s gaze properly. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I just got so-“
“I know,” Eddie replies, quiet and careful and devoid of any of his earlier teasing. “But you know you can talk to me, right? Like, it’s me Buck. You can just tell me when something’s wrong.”
Buck does know that. He knows he can tell Eddie everything. Anything. The bad and the good.
Which means he should be able to clear this up right away, right? He should just be able to say, ‘Hey, I was apparently working through some latent feelings I never knew I had. And I took that out on you. But guess what! I like Tommy and he likes me back and we have a date Saturday!’
But thinking about telling Eddie that Tommy kissed him makes his chest constrict in a way that he doesn’t expect. So he tucks it up in a neat little box in the corner of his mind for now and focuses on making sure Eddie’s okay. Because he can do that. He knows how to do that.
“I’m an idiot,” he says. “And if you want I will totally give you one free punch so we’re even.”
Eddie huffs a quiet laugh. “I could never hit you.”
“Should I go get Christopher’s Legos instead and step on them with my shoes off?”
Eddie lets out a real laugh then, the kind that makes his eyes close and his head fall back against the couch cushion, and Buck feels so much affection for him well up inside him he’s almost breathless with it.
“You’re an idiot,” Eddie tells him. “And a martyr. Seriously, Buck, I don’t care. I just want to make sure you and I are okay.”
“Of course we are,” Buck says, without actually stopping to interrogate if that’s true or not.
They are, he thinks. The fact that something absolutely life altering happened to him an hour ago and he somehow can’t make himself tell Eddie about it is…inconsequential.
He’s just hedging his bets. Not trying to get ahead of himself before he has yet another failed romance.
“In that case, can you go to the fridge and get us some beers?” Eddie asks, pulling Buck back to reality.
“You shouldn’t be drinking,” Buck says, even as he stands. Maybe they can split a beer. Half a bottle shouldn’t hurt. “Tommy says you’re on pain meds.”
“Oh, so you guys talked?”
Eddie says it unassumingly and when Buck freezes at the dining table and looks over his shoulder he finds that Eddie isn’t even looking at him. He’s leaning forward on the couch, adjusting his leg, but when Buck takes too long to answer he raises his head and gives him an expectant look.
“Yeah,” Buck murmurs, the phantom rasp of Tommy’s stubble against his mouth still tingling and making him want to reach up and touch his lips. That would give too much away though. “We talked.”
Eddie smiles, nodding his approval. “Good. Maybe all three of us can actually hang out together now.”
The thought immediately makes Buck’s stomach swoop with something unnameable but he doesn’t let it show on his face.
“Sure,” he breathes. “Sounds great.”
#buddie#evan buckley#eddie diaz#911#911 spoilers#7x04#my fics#i wrote this in 20 mins and read it twice but here u go lmao#i will try to write a couple of the prompts/suggestions people sent me tomorrow when my brain is functioning normally again 😘
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Troublemaker (Brain Scramblies 2)
Joel Miller x Fem! Reader
Summary: Joel is bad at feelings and distances himself from you after your concussion, and faces his feelings on patrol with you.
Warnings: Smut smut smut of all varieties, so like oral m and f receiving, PIV. Ya know the drill!!! 18+ MDNI! Joel is bad at feelings. Kind of slow burn, asshole Joel. Very sweet sex! Age gap oops
Word Count: 4.9k
A/N: SURPRISE MOTHAFUCKAS!!!! BRAIN SCRAMBLIES 2 AT 10PM ON WEDNESDAY NIGHT!! My bf recently informed me you’re not supposed to sleep when you have a concussion so my bad guys sorry for giving you all brain damage that's on me ALSO THANKS FOR ALL THE LOVE ON BRAIN SCRAMBLIES! Here’s part two for all who asked!! Like brain scramblies, I don't love this but there was an overwhelming demand for part two and I was concerned for y'alls sanity. Also I changed the title again oops.
Read the first story here! It can be read as a standalone but I highly recommend reading Brain Scramblies first!
Please please please comment and reblog if you enjoy!
Joel ended up falling asleep with you. He woke up early and quietly excused himself from your bed. God, how pretty you looked sound asleep. With your puffy lips and quiet snoring. The way your hair fell across your face. He pushed your hair away from your eyes and left.
Stupid. So fucking stupid.
You didn’t mean any of it, any of what happened last night. Joel was a fool for indulging in your concussed words and letting himself believe any of it was real. He placed too much meaning on last night.
He’d need to work hard to erase the way you made him feel. He needs to forget how he loved taking care of you, how he wants to be the one to make you feel better after a long day or when you’re sick. How he wants to spend all of his time making you smile. He needs to erase all of his love and adoration for you.
In the morning, Tommy took you to the doctor. Your head was still sore and pounding slightly, but the doctor assured you that with a week’s worth of rest, you’d be back to normal. Honestly, you’d be better in a day or two but it’s best to take it easy for a while longer, just in case.
You were in the waiting room while the doctor prepared some medicine for you. Some tea to help with the headaches and nausea, and some pain meds. Tommy was sitting right next to you.
“Feelin’ alright, honey?” he asked you.
“Yeah, I’m okay. Hurting a little but I’ll be fine,” you replied. Your head was still tender, and likely would be for a while.
“Up for dinner on Friday? As long as you’re feeling okay, of course,”
“Yeah, yeah. Only if Maria is cooking, of course,” you teased him. Tommy wasn’t a great cook, unfortunately.
Tommy chuckled. “Well, that’s a given. Joel will be there too. You remember him taking you home last night?”
You shook your head. “I thought you and Maria took me home. It was Joel?” Your memories were fuzzier than you realized.
Tommy’s lips curled in a sly smirk. “Yeah, no. It was Joel. You don’t remember anything you said to him?” You shook your head again. “Well, you were flirtin’ pretty hardcore.”
Your cheeks burned and flushed. “No,” you groaned, burying your face in your palms.
“Oh, yes. Called him handsome left and right. Never seen him so bashful before. He was pink as a flamingo, honey,” he said. “Course, that was only at the bar. He didn’t tell me if you said anything else about your little crush when he took you home.”
“No, no. You’re lying, Tommy,” you whined. This cannot be fucking happening. What did you do?
Tommy shook his head. “It’s the truth, I’m afraid,”
You were embarrassed. Actually, you were way past embarrassed. Mortified. Humiliated.
Tommy could see what you were thinking, the excuses you were making up in your head. “Don’t you think about canceling dinner, now. Maria’s making your favorite pot roast, with all those carrots and potatoes,”
Your eyes were pleading with his, his own twinkling with amusement. You opened your mouth to speak, but the doctor interrupted.
“Alright, now. Tea is for the nausea and headaches, it can be a little bitter so I’d suggest adding some honey. These pain meds will help with the throbbing,” he said. He instructed Tommy to keep an eye on you, make sure you’re hanging in there.
You both thanked the doctor and left the infirmary then. Tommy relented his teasing, seeing as how you were so close to combusting in embarrassment.
The week passes slowly. It’s boring, so fucking boring. You do puzzles, read your favorite books, work on your blanket you’ve been knitting. Sip your tea. And each day, all you can think about is Joel. What you said to him, what you don’t know you said to him.
It’s Friday. Tonight’s the night you��ve been dreading all week. As you make your way to Tommy and Maria’s home, you go over your plan in your head. Just be polite, like always. Apologize to Joel and make nice. Then go home, and the next time you’re on patrol with Joel it will all be back to normal. Right?
No. Not right.
“Hi,” you say to Joel. Tommy’s setting the table, Maria is putting the finishing touches on her meal.
Joel only grunts in response, never once meeting your eyes. You might as well have said hi to a brick wall or a houseplant.
“How’s your week been?”
“Fine,” he grumbles. “Your head, uh, feelin’ any better?” He speaks like he’s in pain, like each word stings and aches as it rolls off of his tongue.
“Yeah. It’s better, mostly. Tommy said you walked me home, and I guess–”
Joel cut you off. “Dinner’s ready,”
Wow. So it’s like that.
You sit next to Joel at the table, who never once speaks to you the entire meal, save for a “Pass the potatoes, please,” or “I need the gravy,” here and there. You’d never experienced such an awkward dinner before. And Joel was never your biggest fan, but he had never been so rude and short with you before. You felt it was a little undeserved, given you had no control over the situation last week.
Luckily, Tommy and Maria fill the air with conversation to make up for Joel’s shitty and impersonal attitude. Within a few hours, dinner is over. Tommy begins clearing the table as you and Joel get dressed to leave. You bid all of them goodbye, and then leave. Dinner didn’t go the way you planned, but nothing ever does. At least it was finally over.
“Walk her home, Joel,” Maria says sternly, watching you through the window. “Come on. It’s the least you can do after icing her out all evening.”
“She’s fine. Concussion healed.”
“Don’t care, brother,” Tommy interjects. “Walk her home, or you’re cleaning the stables for the next six months. Go. Think y’all have some stuff to talk about, anyway.”
“This is ridiculous,” Joel mumbles as Tommy and Maria both hug him goodbye. But he does it anyway.
He meets you a little ways away from their home, the crunch of leaves under his footsteps startling you. “Let’s move. I’m walkin’ you home again,” he says.
“Oh, that’s nice of you,” you reply, surprised. No doubt Tommy and Maria forced him into this.
Joel says nothing. He’s silent the entire walk home, silent as he leaves you on your porch.
You’re in disbelief. You were expecting to maybe laugh a bit over the situation last week, but not this. Who knew Joel hated being flirted with so much? He takes quick steps, never once looking back to make sure you make it inside your home okay.
Fuck it.
“Joel,” you call out. “Come here.”
Joel turns around, eyeing you with a frown. “What do you want now? You’re home.”
“Come here.” your voice is stern and demanding.
He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, true to dramatic Joel fashion. When he steps up onto your porch and stands in front of you, he stares at you with a blank expression, his eyes are cold. “What,” he says flatly. No trouble at the end of his sentence, like he usually calls you. It stings.
“What happened last week? When you walked me home, after my concussion.”
“Nothin’. Nothin’ happened,”
“Are you sure? Because Tommy said I was flirting with you at the bar, and I don’t know if I said something rude or what but I…” you trail off. “I don’t know. I just want to know what happened.”
Joel sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You didn’t say anything rude,”
“Then what? What did I say?”
“It doesn’t matter,”
“Then tell me,”
“I said it doesn’t matter,”
“It matters to me,”
Joel steps away from you, sitting on one of your chairs. He won’t look at your face. “Fine,” he says gruffly. “You called me handsome.”
“Tommy told me,” you say quietly, your voice is small. “Listen-”
“About a million times, actually. It’s all you could say for a minute there,” His tone is beginning to soften, but he’s still grumpy and bothered. “Gave me a nickname, too.”
“I did?”
“You did,”
“What was it?” you step closer to him, taking a seat in the chair next to where he’s sitting.
“Joelie,” he says. “You called me Joelie.”
“Joelie, huh?” you mumble, half to Joel, half to yourself. “Was that all?”
Joel is looking off into the distance, the cool air is biting at his ears and nose. “No, there was a little more,”
“Are you gonna tell me?”
“No, I don’t think so. No reason to,” he pauses for a second, remembering. “I’ve got a fuckin’ bone to pick with you, though.”
“Clearly,” you reply with a sarcastic tone. “What’d I do, other than call you handsome?”
“You fuckin’ pinched me. Again,” he turns to face you. “You have a real problem keepin’ your hands to yourself, you know that?” he scolds you angrily.
You can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips. “You probably deserved it! You always do, you’re such a dick,”
Joel scoffs, it’s almost a chuckle. “Maybe. I wasn’t actin’ like a dick that night, though. Not enough to warrant you pinchin’ me,”
You’re puzzled. Why else would you pinch Joel, if not as a punishment for acting like an asshole? “Then why did I pinch you?”
Joel turns red then. Like, really blushes. His ears and cheeks are bright and rosy. He’s flamingo pink, just like Tommy said.
“Why, Joel?”
“You said I have an ass like a uh…a peach,” he whispers. “And then you–”
It’s your turn to blush now. “No,” you interrupt. “I didn’t. Joel, tell me I didn’t pinch your ass.”
He nods, silently.
“I am so fucking sorry, Joel,” you apologize frantically. You were a fucking menace!! “Please. That was so inappropriate.”
“It’s fine, trouble. Was kinda cute, actually. You said I have eyes like coffee beans too. Never heard that one before,”
Trouble.
“And that’s all?”
“You said you’ve got this great, big, humongous, gigantic crush on me,” he says through a sigh, his tone is defeated. Sarcastic, even. “That was really it, though.”
He doesn’t mention all the times you asked him to fuck you. He’s not a sadist, you’re embarrassed enough already. In fact, you’re so embarrassed and in your own head that you don’t even pick up on the sadness in his voice.
You open your mouth to apologize, to explain. Joel speaks first.
“Don’t worry about it. I know you didn’t mean any of it,”
And then he sits up, making his way to step down off of your porch. He turns to you one more time before leaving, you can’t place his expression. He looks almost sullen, almost heartbroken.
“Goodnight, trouble.”
He leaves. Once again, you weaseled your way too close to his heart.
And that’s the last you really speak to Joel.
You’re not on patrol with Joel very often, but he’s even quieter when you are paired up. Not in the rude kind of way like at dinner, but in a sheepish sort of way. Like he’s embarrassed, or sad, or feels nervous to speak to you. The confident, cocky Joel is long gone. He rejects all of your attempts at conversation, and it leaves you heartbroken and baffled.
If only he knew how you felt about him. If only he’d let you speak.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
It’s a chilly and rainy fall day, you and Joel are holed up in an old home on patrol together. It’s been maybe a month, a month and a half since that night on your porch.
He’s not really speaking to you, except to give you instructions here and there. You’re getting sick of his attitude. So standoffish and cold.
You wonder what went wrong that night. He was never all that friendly with you, but he was never like this. He looked right past you, like you were a phantom. Not really there.
You’re knitting your blanket, sitting on a window seat. The rain is pitter pattering against the glass. Joel is stoking the flames in the fireplace. The only sounds are the clicks of your knitting needles and the crackle of the fire. There’s a tupperware of snickerdoodles you brought for him, sitting untouched. It was your olive branch. He didn’t even thank you for them.
“What do you think of my blanket?” You hold the blanket up for him, various shades of green yarn arranged in a rippling pattern.
Joel takes a quick glance, barely even looking, then grumbles something.
“Joel? I didn’t hear you,”
“I said it’s fine,” he snaps at you.
You sigh, knitting your blanket furiously. What a fucking dick. “You know what? You don’t have to be such a fucking asshole all the time, you know that?”
“Fuck are you talkin’ about?”
“I said that you don’t have to be an asshole all the time,” you spit.
“I’m not–”
“You are. And I don’t even know why!” you laugh wryly. “All you do is fucking ignore me. And I don’t get it, Joel. I don’t know why I even try with you.”
Joel tries to speak, but you don’t let him.
“I get it, okay? I made you uncomfortable when I called you handsome and pinched your ass and everything that night. I’m sorry,”
Joel is still stoking the fire, giving you no attention.
“I’m serious. I had a fucking brain injury, I had no control over my actions or my words. And I’m sorry,”
Joel’s not listening to your words. He’s so in his own head, he’s not absorbing any of it. All he hears you say is “I didn’t mean anything I said, I don’t feel anything towards you,” Rub it in some more, why don’t you? I’m not in love with you and I don’t think you have nice eyes like I said.
“I do have a little crush on you, okay? You do have nice eyes and a nice nose, and you’re the most handsome man I’ve met in my life. But it doesn’t give you the right to act like this,” you snapped. “I know it made you uncomfortable because I’m too young for you or whatever, so I want you to know I am sorry. Genuinely. Can you please drop the dickhead act now?”
Joel freezes, thrown off.
“Joel,” you demand.
“Say that again,” he says. He’s looking at you finally.
“I’m sorry,”
“No, not that,” he waves his hand. “About my nose.”
“I like your nose,”
Joel never liked his nose. But you do. The strong shape, the freckles and scars. It fits him perfectly. “You mean that?”
“Of course. Why else would I say it?” you say bitterly. God, he is so far up his own ass you wonder if he even knows what the sun looks like.
“Why?” he asks you, a smile is threatening to curl his lips upward.
“The shape, I don’t know. Your freckles,” you say through a sigh. “That’s what you’re getting from this? Can you please just let me apologize for harassing you?”
“No,” he responds. “Tell me more. About my eyes, again.” Joel stands up now, looking at you from a few feet away.
You shake your head. Haven’t you embarrassed yourself enough for him? “Why? Thought I told you they look like coffee beans,”
“Humor me,” he says, his voice low, stepping toward you now. Your heartbeat picks up its pace as he considers his next move. He sits next to you at the window seat. He’s so in love, melting into a puddle before you. God, the way you’ve ruined him.
“You have nice eyes. Dark and deep. I like the way they shine amber in the sun,” you whisper. You can’t help the growing smile on your face, the same smile when you’re alone and thinking of Joel’s handsome face. “Happy now, asshole?”
There’s a silent moment between you both after you speak, Joel’s looking at you in a way he never has before. The butterflies in your tummy flutter a little faster now, his eyes darting back and forth between your own and your lips.
“Joel,” you sigh, “Quit looking at me like that.” Your words are more desperate than you intend them to be. You wanted to sound more stern, like him.
He doesn’t say anything as he carefully places his hand on your cheek, his thumb swiping back and forth against your skin. Your eyes flutter shut.
He takes the opportunity to pull you close, his lips just millimeters away from yours. “I’m sorry,” he whispers to you. “I wasn’t bein’ fair to ya. You said all those things to me when you weren’t in your right mind,” he trails off, bowing his head. “I’m no good at this.”
“Try me,” you whisper back, your eyes still closed.
“I don’t know, trouble,”
You pull back, looking into his eyes. They’re big and full of adoration and insecurity, a brutal combination. “Thought it wasn’t real?”
Joel can only nod. The man who always has something to say, suddenly choking on his words. His hand is still on your cheek, holding you steady.
You want to kiss him, so badly. You want to kiss him with every fiber in your being. But you fight it. He’s going to be the one to kiss you, it’s going to be how you always pictured it. This, you’re certain of.
Joel’s eyes are frantic and unsure.
It feels like minutes.
Hours.
Days.
An eternity before he finally does it. And then finally, he kisses you, slowly and gently. It takes you by surprise, sweeps you off your feet. His lips are soft and slightly chapped, he tastes so distinctly Joel. You sigh and moan against his lips as his tongue mingles with your own, you curse yourself for the desperation you exhibit. As if he cares.
You kiss like that for a while, softly. His gentle and loving kisses are a stark contrast to his gruff and domineering personality on patrol. He’s dissolving under your lips, feeling love he’s not felt in a very long time. Everything he can’t say with his voice he says with his kisses.
You break the kiss, trailing your lips down his jaw, the scratchy hairs of his beard feel amazing on your skin. You kiss down his neck, something you’ve fantasized about thousands of times.
“Wait,” he rasps out.
You pull away, noticing the tent in his jeans. “Want me to stop?”
“Yes,” he breathes. Your eyebrows raise and your head tilts slightly. “No. Not like that. I just, I want to do this right. Treat you right.”
“Joel?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut up,” you speak into his neck. “Need you to fuck me.”
He lets out a breathy chuckle as you continue kissing his skin, trailing back up his thick neck and nibbling at his ear. He’s panting and moaning beneath you, you never expected he’d fall apart like this. “You know,” he starts, “You told me you wanted me to fuck you when you had your concussion.”
Your face grows red and you stop kissing him for a second. “Did not,”
“Did too,”
You ignore him and pretend like he didn’t just tell you that. You kiss his skin, it’s hot and slightly salty. You feel his pulse under your lips and then, you pull away.
His brows furrow as you smile. He’s so fucking cute like this, way cuter than any fifty-something man should be. “Your turn. Tell me what you think of me, then we can continue,”
Joel’s confidence is back and fully fledged now, it’s a welcome return. “I think you’re nothin’ but trouble. Honestly and truly,”
“Yeah?”
“S’right. Makin’ me fat with your damn cookies. Makin’ me crazy with all your pinches. And you’ve got me fallin’ in love now. You’re a goddamn troublemaker, and I’ve known it since the day I met you,”
It’s everything you ever wanted to hear Joel say. He’s falling for you.
He continues, “And when we get back, I get a redo. Doin’ this the right way with you, baby. Gonna make you dinner and all that. Like a gentleman,”
“You better,” you mumble, kissing him again. Your hands find their way to his jeans, fumbling with his belt. His cock grows harder beneath you, he swats your hands away and helps you free it, his member springing up between you both.
You kneel in front of him, wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock. You lick a long stripe from the bottom all the way to the top of his dick, swirling your tongue around the blushed tip. “Troublemaker,” he sighs. “Don’t tease me now, sweetheart. Please, baby.” His eyes are screwed shut, face contorted in pleasure.
You love the way he calls you baby. And troublemaker. And sweetheart. You’ll be his baby and his sweetheart and his troublemaker for the rest of your life.
You take him into your mouth, tongue paining his cock with swirls of saliva. His cock parts your lips, you love the smoothness of his skin. He tastes like skin and slightly salty, you hum against him as he bucks into your mouth. “Fuck, baby,”
You bob your head up and down, making a sloppy mess of saliva all over his lap. He pulls you off, suddenly.
“My turn,” is all he grumbles when he picks you up and drags you to the couch in front of the fireplace. He makes short work of discarding your clothes, unbuttoning your jeans and your jacket and shirt. You’re naked in front of him, suddenly feeling vulnerable. You cover your breasts and bring your knees to your chest.
He notices and promptly begins removing his own clothing. “I know, I know,” he soothes you. “Evening out the playing field and all. Don’t hide from me now, I’m gonna make it right. You’re fucking beautiful, baby.”
He’s naked now, kneeling in front of you and spreading your thighs apart. Your pussy is wet and glistening for him, you feel his hot breath on your center. He looks at you with wide eyes, his silent way of asking permission. You answer him clearly by carding your fingertips through his scalp, tugging on his head to where you need him most. You thrust your hips towards him, begging him with your body.
“Eager, are we?” he mumbles. “Been dreamin’ of eatin this pussy, baby.”
“Please,” you beg him.
“Since you asked so nicely, trouble,”
He doesn’t tease you, doesn’t spend any time kissing and biting your thighs. He dives right in, his tongue exploring your most intimate parts. It trails up your lips, through your folds. His tongue dips in your wet hole, tasting your slick. You jolt and gasp his name at the feeling. Your thighs clamp around his head, his scratchy beard is abrasive against your flesh. You welcome the feeling.
He parts your thighs again then, a little rougher than the first time. His tongue slides through your wetness once more, then finds home at your clit, swollen and needy. He flicks upward, alternating between long and languid licks and short and quick kitten licks. One of his hands meet your center, his middle two fingers enter your pussy and punch upward until he finds the spot that makes you tick. He hasn’t touched a woman in a long time, but still remembers all the best ways to make her see stars.
“Fuck, like that,” you gasp out. “Fuck, don’t stop.”
Joel says nothing as he eats your pussy, sucking and licking at your center. It’s not long before you’re coming undone on his tongue, your slickness making a mess of his face. Your moans are breathy and quick, he savors each one. His eyes are wide and dark with lust.
Barely recovered from your high, you grasp and paw at his shoulders, encouraging him to come up and meet you for another kiss. You taste yourself on his lips.
“Need you now, Joelie,” you breathe, breaking the kiss.
His nickname still sounds just as sweet as the first time you whispered it, all those nights ago.
“‘Course, trouble. I’ve got you.” he says against your skin, his tongue darting out to play with your nipples. He’s dragging the tip of his cock through your folds. “How do you want me?”
“Just like this, please. Just fuck me,”
Your wish is his command. He slides the tip into you slowly at first, making sure it’s not too much. It’s not, of course
He pushes into you all the way, you sigh in pleasure at the fullness. He fits inside you perfectly, like he was made for you. His tip presses at that sweet spot inside you with each thrust, almost effortlessly.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” he moans.
“Yeah, Joelie. Just like that, baby. Don’t stop,”
He fucks you like that, not too hard and not too soft. A deliciously and devastatingly pleasant pace, with such care and love.
And then the lightbulb goes off in your head. His butt!!
How you wish you remembered pinching his ass that night.
“Joel?” your voice is clear, not moaning or breathy.
He stills inside you, taking heaving breaths on top of you, like it’s taking everything he’s got not to keep going. He looks at you with concern, afraid that he might have hurt you. “Everything okay? What do you need?”
“Can I squeeze your butt?”
Joel says nothing, just looks at you with a puzzled expression. He furrows his brows and squints at you before rolling his eyes.
Hey, at least you’re asking permission this time.
“Please?”
“Yeah, dummy. It’s all yours, now. Don’t wear it out,” he grumbles, but you hear the playfulness in his tone.
You giggle, reaching down to grasp a handful of his ass. It’s round, plump and fleshy. You dig your nails in slightly, pinching him a little. He winces slightly, shaking his head at your mischievous expression. Your eyes are bright and silly with your bottom lip pinned under your teeth in a grin.
“Hey now, trouble” he scolds you with a smile. “Behave.”
He kisses you, continuing his motions. His thrusts are so fluid and confident, you’re getting closer now, so is he.
“Fuck, baby,” he pants. “Can’t hold off much longer. What do you need?”
You pull one of his hands from above your head and place it at your center. “Circles, please,”
He adjusts his grip on the arm of the couch and moves his fingers to your clit, slick with your wetness and his spit from before. “You got it,”
His thrusts become sloppier, he’s letting out strangled gasps and groans. You’re moaning, crying his name as your orgasm begins to bloom inside of you. It’s intense and hot, it feels like sparks through your blood.
“Joel, Joel,” is all you can say. He fucks you through your orgasm, chasing his own. “Fuck, Joelie.”
“I know, I know. I’m right there. Hang on for me baby, doin’ so good,”
With a few more shuttering thrusts he’s spilling inside of you, painting your insides with his hot come. You feel every pulse and twitch of his cock, and he slumps on top of you. His skin is hot and sweaty, you don’t mind. You’ve been dreaming of his body pinning your own down for ages.
You stay like that, just catching your breath together. He kisses your neck as your fingertips trail up and down his back. “I love you so much, Joel,” you whisper. “I really do.”
“Love you too, sweet girl,” he says softly. You love the way his voice sounds here, soft and gentle. All for you and no one else.
He pulls out of you then, you whine at the loss. He lunges off the couch to reach for the tupperware container of snickerdoodles you baked for him.
He pulls off the lid, grabbing a handful of cookies and shoving one in his mouth. Apparently Joel was still a typical man, snacking after sex.
You giggle, grab a cookie of your own and kiss his cheek. He wraps an arm around you and pulls you close to watch the flames in the fireplace dance.
“God, you’re evil,” he says, his voice muffled by the cookies in his mouth. “Force feedin’ me cookies and makin’ me fat.”
“Busted. You got me,” you say, smiling. “Gotta keep your ass nice and squeezable, hm? It was my devious plan all along. You figured it out, Sherlock.”
“Shut up. Fuckin’ troublemaker,”
tags:
@swiftispunk @rosaliedepp @pedrotonin @kittenlittle24 @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @brittmb115 @bigboiseason123 @laysmt @guiltgoreglory @aubreysylvain @leeeesahhh @harriedandharassed @southernbe @ravenouswild @luvrking @r02eg0ld @amythenortherner @walkintheprk @zpandaqueen @silkiers @angel-with-a-heart @kdogreads @boofy1998 @theoremrobin @2valentines @happy--birthday--kiddo @elissaaa @paleidiot @brie-annwyl @str84pedro @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @kyloispunk @tiredbuthappy @yuk-for-president @nopealoupe @blackvelveteen1339 @monboudoir @darleneslane @bbyanarchist @@spideysimpossiblegirl
(if you don't see your @, i got rid of the ones tumblr wouldn't let me tag. Leave me a comment if you'd like to be on the taglist!)
#strang3lov3#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller smut#the last of us#joel miller#the last of us hbo#tlou#brain scramblies
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Good Girl - Eddie Munson x Reader
Collaboration with the amazing and wonderful @munson-blurbs 💚
Summary: When Eddie reminds you to take your antidepressants, little does he know that he’s stumbling onto one of your favorite kinks.
Note: This is a reminder to take your medicine if you haven’t today. Make Eddie proud.
Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), praise kink, corruption kink, allusion to daddy kink, prescribed use of antidepressants
Words: 2.7k
“You’re seriously trying to tell me that Steven Tyler is better than James Hetfield?” Eddie gawks at you with a disbelieving shake of his head, turning off your Aerosmith cassette in protest.
“I didn’t say that; I said that he has a wider vocal range. Which is factual,” you retort, snapping the tape back in place and cranking up the volume.
But Eddie’s not buying it; he paces around your room and mumbles under his breath dramatically. Spotting the bright orange bottle on your dresser, he snatches it up and shakes it. “I thought these things were supposed to make your brain work better,” he teases. “Are you sure you took them today?”
It’s meant as a lighthearted joke, but his smile falters when he sees your gaze drop from where he’s putting on his little one-man show. “You did take your bye-bye sad pills today, right?”
You roll your eyes and grab the bottle from his grasp. “They’re called antidepressants,” you grumble, making no effort to hide your annoyance, “and, no; I didn’t.”
“I think my name for them makes them a little more fun,” he says as he flops onto your bed. “But why didn’t you take them?”
There’s no sense hiding anything from Eddie; he’s been your best friend for far too long and can see right through you. “I’m tired of having to rely on medication to be less sad,” you admit. “It’s, well, it’s fucking depressing.” The irony isn’t lost on you.
Eddie sighs and lifts himself up on one elbow to look at you. “You know, people need medicine in order for their blood pressure to remain stable. Them not wanting to take the meds isn’t going to do anything except have their blood pressure levels either plummet or go through the roof.”
Tilting your head at Eddie, you shoot him an unamused glare. “My blood pressure is fine.”
“Fine,” Eddie says as he pushes himself up into a sitting position. “Go tell Wayne to stop taking his blood pressure medication because he should rely on his heart the way it is. We’ll see what happens.”
The daggers you’re shooting at Eddie only get sharper because both of you know that you can’t come up with a retort for that. When you don’t soften, not even a bit, Eddie groans and drops his head back.
“C’mon,” he whines. “Be a good girl and take your pills.”
All of the muscles in your body seem to lock as one at the term. Heat begins to crawl its way up your body and you can only pray that it doesn’t appear on your face.
“W-What did you just say?”
“I said,” Eddie starts, as if being annoyed he has to repeat himself, “be a good girl and—oh. Christ, does that…?”
“Shut up,” you snap with far more venom than you intended. “Give me my meds and forget it, okay?”
Eddie’s looking at you like the cat who ate the canary. The smirk on his face is becoming more self-satisfied by the second. “Oh, absolutely not, sweetheart. I just found out that my best friend in the whole world has been hiding her secret kink from me.”
“I said, drop it.” You clench your fists in a feeble attempt to ward off the humiliation. “We’re not fucking, so it’s none of your business what any of my secret kinks are.”
“Kinks? As in more than one? Oh, do go on.” He’s got a shit-eating grin on his face, but it fades when he sees your eyes welling up with the beginnings of tears. “Look, you don’t have to be embarrassed. We all have things that turn us on. Even pure, chaste, little ol’ me.”
Now that makes you laugh. “Okay, Mr. Celibacy over here…tell me one of yours. It’s only fair.”
“I think it would just have you clutching your pearls, Miss Good Girl.” He winces when you give his ankle a playful kick, but he obliges. “Fine, fine.” He puts his hands up in surrender. “I like the idea of corrupting a girl. Sweet thing getting ruined by a freak like me.”
“You don’t get enough of that shit talk from the meatheads at school?” Idiots like Jason Carver seem to have a never-ending list of insulting nicknames for him, with Freak being their go-to.
Eddie shakes his head, frizzy brown curls brushing against his cheeks. “No, this is different. I don’t want to be called a freak. I just think the idea of a nice, innocent girl wanting me to corrupt her is hot.”
“Like…a good girl?” You’re trying to replicate his teasing tone from earlier, but it comes out more salacious. You bite your tongue, though the words have already escaped your lips.
Eddie just chuckles, somehow oblivious to your gaffe. “All right, well played. Laugh it up so we can call it even.”
You unscrew the cap of the bottle and take a pill, washing it down with the water you keep next to your bed. “But, Eds, I took my medicine! See?” You stick out your tongue with an exaggerated aaahh. “Just like a good girl.”
Eddie’s eyes narrow; he’s not sure how to interpret the situation. To be honest, neither do you. “Don’t play this game with me,” he says, suddenly serious. “Because you get to forget all about this, while I’m stuck with blue balls for the rest of the day.”
“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”
He nods. “Plenty of experience.” He rubs his sweaty palm along his denim-clad thigh, his eyes never leaving your body.
“Lucky for you, good girls don’t let their best friend walk around with blue balls, do they?” This is it. It’s now or never. You walk over to the bed and straddle his waist, pressing your hands to his chest. His heart is beating a mile a minute.
Any semblance of self-control is gone as Eddie hisses, “They certainly fuckin’ don’t.” His lips crash against yours in a hungrily, sloppy kiss. His palms are on either side of your face as he holds you impossibly close. Whether he realizes it or not, he’s grinding up against you, creating a delicious friction between your thighs.
Eddie wraps a strong arm around your waist and lowers you down to the mattress. Lips never leaving yours, his hands slip up the inside of your shirt, his rough calloused fingers causing goosebumps to break out along your skin. When you’re forced to break apart for air, you take the opportunity to yank your shirt off over your head and toss it somewhere on the floor. Eddie copies your motions, so when he leans back in this time, your bra is the only material between your two chests.
“So pretty,” Eddie mumbles as his kisses move down to your jaw. One of his hands comes up to cup your breast through your black cotton bra. “Such a good girl for me.”
His words have you whining and arching your back. It forces your chest even more into Eddie’s hand, which has him smirking as he runs his nose up to your ear. He places a soft kiss there before reaching down for the button of your jeans.
“You really do like it when I call you that, huh? Tell me, baby, did you ever think about me calling you that before? Lay here at night with your hand between your legs, picturing me calling you my good little girl?”
An almost pornographic moan slips from your lips as he speaks, and you’re barely able to concentrate on lifting your hips up enough for him to pull your jeans and panties off.
“Wanna be your good girl,” you mumble, face heating up at the admission. “Just f’you.”
“Aww, how sweet,” Eddie coos, leaning to capture your lips in another soft, slow kiss. Your hands slide down his pale chest until they rest on the handcuff buckle belt that you’ve stared at so many times, always wondering what it would be like to take it off of him.
“Pants off, Eds,” you say.
“Excuse me?” he says against your mouth. “What was that?”
A small whine tumbles from your lips before you squeak out, “Pants off, please, Eddie.”
“Much better,” Eddie says with a wicked grin. “That’s how good girls get what they want. Take your bra off, baby. I want to see all of you.”
Reaching behind your back to unhook the garment, your eyes never leave Eddie’s form as he strips himself of his jeans and boxers. All the times you’d imagined Eddie naked in your bed…they didn’t do the real thing justice. He’s long and wider than you expected, and even more mouthwatering than you could’ve hoped for.
“Staring, huh?” Eddie says and you can hear the smirk in his voice before you even look up to see it confirmed on his face. “I’m flattered, sweetheart.”
“‘S bigger than I imagined,” you admit shyly. “Need—I mean, can you please use your fingers first?”
Eddie nods, running his pointer and middle fingers through your wet folds before pushing them inside you. “Aw, y’already soaked for me, baby? Barely even touched you.” He continues fingering you as he nips at your earlobe. “Y’sure you’ll be able to take my cock, pretty girl?”
The nicknames have your head spinning. “Y-yes, sir,” you choke out, whimpering when he stops moving his thick digits.
“Well, shit,” he says with a small chuckle. “Looks like you’ve unlocked a kink I didn’t even know I had.” He looks deep into your eyes as he orders, “call me ‘sir’ again.”
“Yes, sir,” you manage, feeling his thumb making slow circles over your clit. “Anything f’you. I’m a good girl f’you, sir.”
Eddie growls as he slides down so his nose is level with your sex. “Not a good girl. You’re my good girl.”
“Your good girl. Only yours, fuck!” You yelp loudly as he starts sucking on your swollen bud, simultaneously fucking you with his fingers. Your legs tremble, which he takes as a sign to lap at your pussy with more vigor. “R-right there, sir. Please don’t stop. Please don’t stop, sir.” You sound pathetic, but it’s working for both of you.
You feel the pressure mounting in your core as your orgasm washes over you. “I’m cumming, holy fucking shit, I’m fucking cumming—” But just as the coil begins to snap, he pulls away from you, chin shiny with your slick.
“What the fuck?”
“Ah ah,” Eddie chides. “Good girls wait so we can cum together.” He spits on his hard cock, fucking into his fist a few times before lining himself up with your entrance. “Y’okay?” he asks, pushing the tip in only after you give him a resounding yes. The feeling of him inside you is one of ecstasy, and you wrap your legs around his to pull him impossibly closer. No one has ever filled you the way he has; no one has ever stretched you so deliciously.
“Eddie,” you murmur into the crook of his neck. His hands grip your hips as he buries himself within your walls. “I-I mean, sir, y’feel…fuck…feel s’good.”
“Me?” Eddie laughs incredulously as he continues thrusting into you. “No, baby. Nothing compares to how good you fuckin’ feel. Nice an’ tight, aren’t you, angel?”
The new nickname sends shivers of pleasure down your spine, and you bite your lip as you squeak out an agreement.
“Tell me, my sweet girl,” Eddie growls, cock twitching within you, “what would your friends think if they knew the freak was balls deep in your pussy right now?”
You can only moan in response, and Eddie beams at your apparent wordlessness.
“Fucked the words right out of you? Cute little head of yours can only think about my cock, hm?”
“Feels…feels…” You wrack your brain for any descriptors for the waves rippling through your body, but you come up empty-handed; rather, empty-headed.
Eddie’s all-too amused by this, pistoning his hips as he beckons, “Come on; good girls use their words. How’s it feel, baby?”
“So good, Eds. Y’make me feel so good.” It’s barely two sentences, but it placates him.
“Aw, you like the way my cock makes you feel?” A sneer crosses his face. “Like when the freak’s cock splits you open? How about when I do this?”
Before you can register his words, he’s bringing his thumb to your already overstimulated clit and rubs it while fucking you. “I know you like that, angel. Can feel you getting tighter around me. Fuck, anyone make you feel this good before?”
“N-No, just you,” you manage, another wanton moan escaping your lips.
“Good girl, using her words f’me.” Your pussy clenches at the praise, spurring Eddie on further. “Just wanna wreck you. No one else can have you but me.”
“Only yours,” you slur in your cock drunk state. Every nerve in your body feels alive as Eddie pounds into you. Your eyes flutter closed so when Eddie leans down and flicks his tongue over one of your nipples, it surprises you. “Oh!”
“Can’t forget about these gorgeous tits, baby girl,” Eddie purrs. “They deserve some love as well.” He laves his tongue up and down the swell of your breast before sucking the nipple into his mouth. A new decibel of a whimper leaves your throat, and it has Eddie smirking around the hardened bud in his mouth.
Your hand comes up and tangles in Eddie’s hair, fingers ever so lightly digging into his scalp as he gives your nipple a particularly harsh suck. He pulls off with a pop, hips still pounding into yours vigorously. The motion of your bodies causes your bed to shake and your headboard to bang repeatedly and obnoxiously against the wall.
Eddie gives the same attention to your other breast, exploring the soft skin with his tongue and lips before ravishing your nipple. It only adds to the intense pressure that’s already built up in your core.
“Ed—Sir, please. I need—”
His teeth grazing your nipple has your sentence ending with a strangled gasp.
“I know what you need, baby,” Eddie coos, leaning up to hover his face over yours. “You’ve been such a good girl for me. Letting the freak use your tight little pussy. And you enjoyed it, didn’t you, sweet thing?”
“Yes,” you whine, practically a sob. “S-Sir?”
“What is it, princess?” Eddie asks, teeth clenched as he tries to stave off his impending orgasm.
“Want you to cum inside me.”
“Fuck,” he growls. It takes him a second to regain enough composure to be able to respond. “Yeah? That’s what my good girl wants? To have the freak’s cum deep inside of her? Want to feel it dripping out of you and down your legs? Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll fill you up nice and good.”
Eddie bucks his hips a few more times before he cums, fucking his spend up into you with primal groans. “Take it—fuck, take my cum. Jus’ like a good girl.” He doesn’t stop until he’s soft and panting, flopping onto your chest without daring to pull out.
The two of you lay there for a moment, catching your breaths and relishing in the post-sex glow. A post-sex glow that you’re sharing with your best friend. Your best friend, Eddie Munson, just had his dick inside you while you called him ‘sir’ and he called you ‘good girl.’
“Um, Eddie?” you manage, and he lifts his head as he finally withdraws and lays down next to you. “What…what exactly did we just do?”
“Well, when two people love each other…” He starts to tease you, but his face blanches when he realizes what he’s just implied. “I mean, like, as friends…”
“Right. When two people really love each other as friends, they discover each other’s kinks and have mind-blowing sex.”
Eddie wiggles his eyebrows. “Mind-blowing, huh? You know that flattery works with me.”
“‘M serious,” you say, trying to redirect the conversation back to your original thought. “Where do we go from here?”
He considers this, tongue poking out between his lips in contemplation. “I’m spent; you wore me out with your insatiable appetite for lust.” He chuckles as you flip him off. “So I say we take a nap, and when we wake up, we can see what other kinks we wanna explore.”
“What other kinks do you have?” You rest your head on his chest and snuggle in as he wraps a protective arm around you, kissing the top of your head.
“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” he taunts, yawning as he says it. “Sweet dreams, angel.”
“Sweet dreams, Daddy.”
“Oh, fuck me.”
#eddie munson#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson fan fiction#eddie munson fanfic#Eddie Munson fic
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headcanons : med student!abby anderson x liberal arts student!reader ᥫ᭡
content: wlw relationship. modern college au. ramblings of fluff, maybe a touch of angst but nothing heavy. enjoy <3
a/n: my authority for writing this you ask? i'm an english major who gets asked regularly what i am going to do with my degree! also this is my first time writing about abby i just had to get this idea out of my head and on to the screen.
-abby decided at a young age to follow in her father's footsteps and become a doctor as well. she committed herself to studying science and math as a kid and occasionally disregarded her other studies like music, art, and english. she did enough to keep a 4.0 GPA but her heart was in science tournaments, young medical professional groups, and ap bio.
-she got into one of the best schools in the states for medicine and was a stellar student in organic chemistry, anatomy, and neurology. she knew she was going to do great on her MCAT, but unfortunately, she wasn't doing so great in some of her gen ed classes and it was impacting her gpa.
-that was how she found herself in a tutoring center in one of the older buildings on campus that was shockingly different from the science buildings she spent all of her time in. she had an appointment with you, but was so nervous to go and admit that she was having trouble in something as simple as art history or literature or communication.
-when she sat down to have her appointment with you, you immediately calmed her nerves and assured her that there was nothing wrong with needing some help in classes she wasn't comfortable in. you helped her ace her quiz and then she just kept coming in to see you. over and over. until she eventually passed the class with an A and no longer needed your assistance.
-and then, as luck would have it, abby got her own job as a tutor for science courses and who happened to walk in but you! the tutor who helped her pass her own difficult course.
-it was history from there.
-despite abby's commitment to her education, she was always able to carve time out of her schedule to be with you. she loves studying with you and filling up a room in the library with your stuff to prepare for exams together. she takes a whiteboard and writes all of her notes on it while you're rereading historical texts or revising your final paper about a painting abby doesn't really quite understand.
-she never makes you feel less than for not studying something "more difficult" as people have before. she loves hearing about your passions for history or writing stories or creating art. she'll come with you to art galleries and try to input her own thoughts from time to time about what she thinks certain pieces mean.
-she understands that graduate school applications are just as important to you as medical school applications are for her. you'll do practice interviews with each other and try on outfits for each other.
-abby will not stand for someone making fun of you for your choice of studies. you two once went to a family gathering on abby's side and when some of her family members began interrogating you on how you're going to get a job and even imply that you'll be living off of abby for your whole life, she gets all up in their face and comforts you later! you will not be sending birthday wishes to those family members anymore and she can guarantee that.
-if you guys get accepted in to schools that are long-distance from each other, you'll absolutely make it work. abby is so methodical that she'll never forget to text you and plans out times that either of you can visit.
-if you ever dedicate a piece that you've created in school to her, she'll positively swoon. like if you wrote a poem about her, she would print it out and pin it up on the fridge. if you painted her, she would hang it up on the wall. and she's the best model for those things too
-i imagine that dinners with your colleagues or friends are very random. abby has but a few friends in her residency and they're each as professional as her. you, however, come with a group of lively people who are discussing philosophical ideas or debating about a piece of art history and how its influenced modern culture. it would be an interesting combination to say the least.
-abby would just be so interested in anything you have to do and would never be critical of your choices. she sees the passion you have for things that lie far outside her field and appreciates it. your future apartment that you build years after meeting when you are each established in your dream careers is a mesh of medical textbooks and flashcards and models but also messy journals and thrifted antiques and poems written on sticky notes for her to find.
#the last of us#tlou#abby tlou#abby anderson x reader#abby anderson#abby the last of us#fluff#the last of us headcanons#abby anderson headcanons#modern tlou
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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.”
“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
#sungchan x reader#riize x reader#sungchan imagines#riize imagines#jungsung#sungchan imagine#riize imagine#nct x reader#nct imagine#nct imagines#jung sungchan#i: sungchan#f: buzzer beater#s: buzzer beater#writing#text#mine#bias tag#*100#*200#*300#*400#*500#*600#*700
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Hi Dr. Kristophine, do you have any advice on what kind of information doctors need for medical issues that are more nebulous than "my knees hurt"? I've been feeling Weird and Bad in a way that has me concerned, but I'm afraid to make an appointment because I don't know what to say that will get the Weird and Bad feeling across in an actionable way. Going to the doctor takes SO much energy that I don't have to waste and I don't want them to just take a blood test and say everything's fine go home (again).
The best thing you can do with medical information you're trying to prepare for your medical provider, as a lay person, is be as specific as possible.
-Location: Is it one place in particular, or everywhere? Does it stay in one place, or move around?
-Timing: When did it start? Did it come on suddenly or slowly? Does it happen continuously? Does it come and go? Is it always there to some extent, but it gets better and worse? On a scale of 1-10, with 1 being fine and 10 being the worst you can imagine, how bad is it at its best, and how bad is it at its worst? How much time does it spend really bad vs only kind of bad?
-Quality: If it's pain, is it aching, burning, stabbing, dull, electrical zap, etc.? If it's not pain, what is it? Is it discomfort? Is it weakness--i.e., you can't do that thing? Is it fatigue--like maybe you can still push through doing the thing but it feels like you're trying to wade through mud to do it? Is it a racing heart, sweating, pressure?
-Triggers: Does something in particular set it off? A time of day, a food, an action, a medication, a thought? A surprisingly common trigger for migraines is sitting still with your neck in one position. (New research suggests that necks are critical to migraine formation, to which I yelled out loud at the paper, no duh!) There may be triggers you haven't noticed; try keeping a symptom diary, where you note down when you have episodes and what you were doing beforehand, what you ate that day, menstrual phase, etc. Any detail that you can remember, whether or not it seems relevant at the time.
I cannot tell you how many times I've dug deeper into a chronic issue only to discover that the patient can, in fact, tell me what the trigger is, but because it's something important to them, they simply haven't noticed. May subconsciously even avoided noticing. Do you get migraines every time you DM? Do you need to work a stretch break into your D&D session?
There can also absolutely be multiple triggers--I know I'll get migraines if I don't sleep, if I'm sick, if I sit still for too long, if I have dental work, etc.
So bring in all the info you can. Write it down if you're afraid you'll forget. Don't hand it to the MA, too many doctors will go "oh my GOD they brought a LIST how high-maintenance" and tune out. Hang on to it but tell them about everything.
I don't expect patients to be able to tell me "I believe I've had a left radial styloid fracture" but I do expect them to tell me "I fell and tried to catch myself with my left hand and now my wrist hurts," and that's good enough. The rest of it is my job. When it's something more vague, like "I started feeling different and bad about six months ago," any other information helps. Did you start a new med around then? Are you going through menopause? Do you struggle with anxiety? Do you have first-degree relatives (parent, sibling, or child) with genetic disorders, autoimmune disorders, etc.? Do you have a history of anemia? Are you vegan? Have you started having night sweats and unexplained weight loss? Did you recently travel internationally? This can go a lot more different directions than a hurty wrist, so bring in all the info you can.
And keep in mind that modern medicine is very limited--much more so than most people think. There is an excellent chance that medicine will not be able to diagnose your condition. It may still be able to offer treatment. It may fall on your shoulders to manage it as best you can, knowing that doctors don't have answers. Nobody can tell me why I have chronic pain, and I don't mean as in "I've asked doctors and they don't know," I mean "I've personally scoured the literature and had the relevant and appropriate tests and no one can know at this phase of medical knowledge." So I deal with it, I've stopped trying to push myself past my reserves because people who can't admit to ignorance tell me to, I keep my painful body moving because that helps, I do PT, I take a multivitamin occasionally because I know my diet sucks. I manage.
There are not always right or wrong answers--I don't take gabapentin, because I don't want the sedation and kidney exposure, but patients with my exact symptoms might find it helpful and may find the risks and costs worth the benefits. My mother, who has whatever it is that I have, right down to the tricky stomach, from whom I presumably inherited it, has taken medication at different points in her life, depending on how much pain she was in and what other responsibilities she has, and that is perfectly reasonable. Autonomy matters. People have to be able to make these choices for themselves, with assistance but not paternalism from their medical professionals, because the math is different for everyone.
#the attending dr. kristophine#listen I feel very strongly about autonomy#I am here to help not to dictate from on high
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Wings? [Charles Rowland x fem! alive! supernatural! reader]
a/n: this is quite the long oneshot, longer than expected, but i really enjoyed writing this! i hope you guys enjoy, and feel free to request fics such as these whenever you'd like <3
word count: around 2k.
"Here, this will be your room, rent is weekly and that is your roommate [name]" Jenny says as she hands Crystal the keys to the room, and gestures a little vaguely at the girl standing infront of them both. "hey Jenny, i thought you said i'd get one roommate, not three?" you ask as you glance at the two boys standing behind who you now know as Crystal, one of them looking intrigued and the other mainly just confused, and Crystal tilts her head a little as if she just made a new discovery "did you forget to take your meds again [name]? there's just Crystal" Jenny rolls her eyes and turns around to leave, saying something about why she even lets you stay here as she walks back to the front of the shop. "so, uh, you can see us?" one of the boys asks, and you take a step back from the sudden startle "oh, sorry mate, didn't mean to startle you, i'm Charles, and this is Edwin" he gives you a charming smile, and you quickly look at Crystal, who, hopefully gently, jabs him in the ribs with her elbow. "Sorry about that, don't worry, i see them too, as you heard from Jenny, my name's Crystal" she holds out a hand to shake, which you slightly hesitantly take "i'm [name]..." "so, are you a psychic like Crystal or have you had a near-death experience?" the one who you heard was called Edwin asks as he takes out a notebook and a pen to write down your answer, and you notice Charles giving him a look that says 'really dude?'. "uh, well, i'm not really sure? strange things have been happening since i was a child, doctors gave me meds for it but they didn't exactly work" you answer. "hm, what kind of strange things? we're the dead boy detectives, me and Charles, i suppose Crystal here joined us recently, but we solve supernatural cases" "yeah, my demon ex-boyfriend stole my memories so, yeah, i'm trying to get them back" Crystal adds. "dead boy detectives? are you two ghosts?" you ask. "yeah, you got that right" Charles says with a bright smile, the type that you would instantly think about if you had to think about him. "right, okay, in that case..." you start to tell your story. "for as long as i can remember, i've been seeing things that others never seemed to notice, the earliest memory i have was that i went to a museum, i was quite young, and i saw someone staring at a wall, and when i got closer i saw that his entire face was cut up, like, something had mauled him, i ran away crying, but my mom said it was all in my head" you continue. "another time was a few years later, i was on the school playground, and since people said i was weird, other kids refused to play with me. i saw this dog, a real sweetheart, and started playing with it, it was only when a teacher came to ask me what i was doing that i was told there was nothing there, and when i looked back at the dog, it dissappeared". "any more recent things? something that doesn't include seeing ghosts? because that would indicate you probably just had a near death experience that you didn't realize, such as getting run over by a, what was it called Charles? a car?" Edwin asks, "jeez, when did you die?" you say with clear disbelief that he forgot what exactly a car was for a second. "he died in the edwardian era, then spent like, 70 years in hell before he got out, i died in the 80's, and stuck around with him" Charles says with a slight shrug. "oh shit, okay, so to answer your question, it was like, eight months ago, i woke up, and i had this" you take off your shirt, Edwin instantly averts his eyes to the floor, meanwhile Charles looks at Edwin instead. you turn around, and show them the tattoo of two bug-like wings going from your shoulderblades down your back. "damn, those are.... really cool"
Crystal says with a nod, and Edwin quickly writes it down. "and what's so strange about that? isn't it just a cool tattoo?" he inquires, not quite getting the strange thing about them yet. "well, i never got a tattoo before in my life, i never got these willingly, and sometimes, i have this nearly painful ache on my back, and when i do it's the worst where the tattoo begins, on my shoulder blades" you answer as you put your shirt back on, much to Edwin's relief as he really wasn't used to seeing stuff like that out of nowhere.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
that first meeting? that was a few weeks ago, and you have become close friends with all of them.
Crystal has become like a sister to you, Niko has joined the team now too after you guys saved her, and even Edwin has been more kind to you, he has his charms sometimes.
and Charles? oh, where to begin.
you two are like two peas in a pod, and at first, Edwin did NOT like that, but he's been more than kind about it now.
at this point, he practically ALWAYS tells you two to go together for cases, and as close as you two are, you hate it.
why? you've fallen, and not even a little.
those smiles he gives you, the way his first concern was you when he got out of that loop in the haunted house, the way he always offers to put your stuff in his infinite bag, the accent, the looks he gives you sometimes, and it's terrible!
you swear its unnatural, to fall for a person who's been dead for decades, to have fallen for someone who probably doesn't love you that way.
nah, you're reading into things, atleast, thats what you tell yourself.
he however? he's the exact same.
the reason why Edwin keeps pairing you two up is because he figured out that Charles likes you, a lot, to the point where Charles had to make a deal with Niko for her to shut up about it too, before you found out.
no way you'd like a person who's already dead right?
when he thought of you, he thought about you making fun of his accent, your wing tattoos, the way you tried to keep his focus on solving the case and on you instead of the murderous scene when you guys were in that house, the way your grin was to die for as you asked about what the 80's were like, the way you hugged him and told him to never do that again as soon as he was out of that dreaded loop, he could swear he saw tears of relief in those gorgeous eyes of yours.
"hey Edwin, i saw 12 cats in total outside, just so you know" you say as you walk in with the groceries for the week, since you and Crystal did still have to eat. Edwin nods and quietly thanks you for helping him count all the cats, Charles walks through the wall into your bedroom before you can say anything, he wanted to tell you how he feels but, was it worth the risk? it would be rather awkward since you'd still have to talk to eachother nearly constantly.
you notice it, though, and you quickly take off your jacket before going into your room too.
"hey Charles, i need to talk to you about something" you say a little nervously, were you really going to do this? really?
"ofcourse mate, what's up?" he tries to sound relaxed, but you don't seem to notice as you quickly ramble on about something he only understands half of.
"yeahsoireallylikeyoulikemorethanafriendandicantreallyhandlehidingitanymoreandireallyloveyoursmileandialwaysendupthinkingaboutyouwhenevericantsleepandihadtopayNikooffusingmanga'stoconvincehertokeepquietbutyeahthatsallpleasedonthateme-" Charles looks at you with confusion, and you take a deep breath.
"okay, so, long story short, summery of that ramble, i really like you, i don't know how, since like, i'm alive and you're dead- wait was that rude? i didn't mean-" before you can finish, you feel his hands on your cheeks as he kisses you, and ofcourse you kiss back.
he pulls away, and look you in the eyes with a loving smile, one you have never seen before "i like you too, so don't even worry about it"
"we'll figure everything out together, yeah?" all you can do is nod as a grin finds its way on you face.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
you woke up with a scream.
your back hurts like hell, and you can feel blood coming down onto the sheets.
in a panic, you quickly go to the bathroom, rushing right past a just woken up Crystal who looks worried.
once in the bathroom, you take off your shirt, though not without struggle as the pain on your back makes it extremely painful to lift your arms so high.
as you take off your shirt, your eyes widen in even more panic as you see the blood that seeped onto it, and you turn around infront of the mirror, seeing blood trickling down your back from your shoulder blades, and... two wings, covered in that same blood, they look exactly like the tattoo you had, but then real.
before you can do any more panicking you hear a knock on the door.
"[name]? you in there? what's wrong?" it's Crystal, though before you can say anything you hear more voices.
"Love? you alright? i'm coming in there if you don't answer, you sounded like you were in pain" Charles. oh no.
he can't see this?! what would he think? you look disgusting, with a bedhead and a bloody back.
"no! no, please just let Edwin in, i can't let you two see me like this.." you say as a few tears roll down your face, apparently your voice sounded like it too as Charles was ready to barge in through the wall anyway if Crystal didn't keep a hold on his arm.
less than a minute later, Edwin comes in, and his eyes widen as he sees the state you are in, and he quickly leaves again.
you stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror as he comes back with a book on... fairy's?
"it's not just about fairy's, it's also about fairy type blessings that they might give to people who went through a lot of negetivity in their life, and what type of blessings they give, clearly we need to figure out yours." he explains before you can question him.
"here it says it's a blessing of the ignored, given to someone who got ignored and waved away whenever they tried to say or convince someone of anything, and the wings were bound to sprout when you feel like you're ready for it, even though you aren't aware of what you're ready for" he explains, and he takes a good look at the 'instructions' of how to atleast clean them up.
"right, i'd say, take a hot shower, put on something like a... backless top or dress? i believe you have those? and we can show Charles, Crystal and Niko and we'll figure out what to do"
all you can do it nod as he leaves again, and you hear some light arguing between him and Charles before you hear Crystal interrupting them and convincing Charles to just sit down at the table and wait.
you took a good, warm shower, though you could instantly tell your wings were sensitive, but tough at the same time.
you put a towel around yourself, and luckily you have a door straight to your bedroom, which Crystal uses aswell, as then she doesn't have to walk past Charles and Edwin when she has showered.
you put on a backless top that you got a year back, but never got to wear as it's usually too cold for it, and some simple jeans and shoes.
you walk out, and see Charles instantly looking relieved as he gets up, though he can tell there's something going on as it's much too cold for that top, and Crystal walks past you in awe as she comes out of her room too, Niko also just walked in from the door with Edwin, and he nods to you to turn around.
and you do.
at first your'e nervous, but then you hear the gasps of awe and you feel Charles gently touch one of them, which makes it twitch a little.
"i did more research when you were showering, turns out the first times are most painful, but you can control wether or not they are as a tattoo or as usable wings, though obviously you must train to do anything with them at all, such as flying. i reccomend that you get more backless tops or tanktops that leave the shoulderblades free, so if we're on a case you could simply take off your shirt and free those wings incase it's needed"
you nod, and before you do anything else, you turn back around, and you spread them.
you look at the floor, but Charles lifts your head back up to meet his eyes, full of wonder. "those are awesome, yeah? we'll help you figure everything out, as always"
"i believe we've gotten a new case, huh?" Crystal says with a slight smile, and you smile back.
you let your wings relax, and without even thinking too much of it, they go back to their tattoo form.
"i suppose we do" Edwin replies.
#charles rowland x reader#dead boy detectives#crystal palace#edwin payne#charles rowland#jenny the butcher#dbd#dbd charles rowland x reader#charles rowland x fem! reader#platonic! edwin payne x reader#platonic! crystal palace x reader
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Crazy For You- Ethan Landry
Ethan Landry x Reader
Summary: After Ethan survives, you decide to visit him.
When you got the news that Ethan survived, you didn’t know how to feel. Part of you was happy that someone you loved so much made it through the several surgeries he needed, but you couldn’t stop thinking of all the people you lost. You couldn’t stop thinking about Quinn chasing you around the theater with that knife. You couldn’t forget his dad yelling at him to kill you.
You’d recently started therapy, and against your doctor’s wishes, you decided to visit Ethan at the high security mental facility he was currently in.
As you pulled up to the brick building, you showed the guard your ID. He looked it over, before picking up the phone. You sat there, palms sweaty, not knowing what to expect. The guard gave you back your drivers license, before opening the gate.
“You’re going to go to parking lot B. When you get there, push the button at the door. Someone will be down to get you,” He said. You thanked him as you drove inside.
Once you made it to lot B, you were scared to get out of the car. You sat there for a while contemplating your choice to see him. You pushed past your fear, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hurt you. You needed answers. You needed to know why he went along with his dad’s plan.
You pressed the button on the door. It didn’t take long for a nurse to let you in. You made a little small talk, before asking the questions about how safe this meeting will be.
“Is he still dangerous?” You asked, after you got in the elevator.
“We have him on plenty of meds, and he will be strapped into the chair. He won’t be able to hurt you. He might not even speak, just be prepared for that,” she said, as we reached the third floor.
As the doors opened, the words ‘High Security’ were painted in bright red letters on the wall. You passed door after door of various inmates, all there for horrible crimes.
You were led to a room with white walls, a table and two chairs. You see Ethan sat in one of the chairs, his arms and legs strapped in. He turned his head as he saw you, a weak smile playing on his lips. You took a seat across from him, not knowing what to say.
“I’m happy to see you,” he said, words slurring from the medication.
You couldn’t say anything, you just stared at him.
“Baby, I’m sorry for everything,” your heart started beating faster. You missed him calling you ‘baby’.
“Why did you do it, then?” you asked, tears slipping out.
“I had to do what the rest of my family wanted,” he looked down at his lap. He’s never been able to watch you cry, and knowing he was the reason was killing him on the inside.
“Why did your family want me to die? I didn’t have anything to do with what happened to Richie,” you whispered, wiping away a few of your tears.
“We all expected to make it through, and you would know the truth,” he said, “But I couldn’t do it. I love you too much to hurt you.”
You heard him start to sob, still not looking up from his lap.
“We could’ve turned them in. We could’ve fixed the situation before it got bad,” you said, thinking of all the different ways things could’ve been handled.
“No, I couldn’t. Dad worked with the police. I knew if I didn’t go along with it, he’d pin it on me.” He finally looked up to you, his eyes red from crying, “I wouldn’t be able to be with you.”
“You’re not really with me now, though.”
An officer came into the room, telling you that you needed to leave soon.
“NO!” Ethan yelled, as he started to thrash around as much as he could in the chair.
“It’s okay, I’ll come visit again,” you said, seeing exactly why this is where he needed to be.
“I don’t want you to leave,” he whispered, throat raw from his screaming.
“I need to, but I promise I’ll come see you soon.” You said sincerely, standing up to leave the room. You were almost outside the door when Ethan spoke.
“Wait…do you still love me?” he asked, the smallest ounce of hope in his eyes.
“I don’t think I could ever stop loving you,” you whispered, as the nurse came over to escort you out.
“That’s the first time he’s cried since he’s been here,” she said, pushing the button for the elevator.
“Really?” you asked, a curious tone in your voice.
“We’ve heard him yell, he’s been violent, but that’s the first time we’ve seen that kind of emotion out of him.”
Your heart started to swell.
“Is that good for him?” You asked.
“I think so. The question is, is this a good thing for you?” she asked, walking you to the exit.
“Probably not, but I love him.”
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News from a crazy mind...
Sherlock, mental health and the support from a fandom.
When Sherlock becomes what the doctor ordered....
100 days lie between those moments.
100 days since I wanted to die.
100 days since I emailed Dignitas.
100 days full of struggle and hope.
100 days later I made it out of hell again.
A handful of people who showed me unconditional love during the hardest setback of my disorder career.
I will love them till the day I die.
And once again the Sherlock world saved my soul before I destroyed it myself.
A fandom full of kindness and support and a detective and a doctor who saved me in more ways than they can ever imagine.
Had a doctors appointment on Friday and I have one hell of a doctor.
Not as good as John Watson but highly supportive of anything that increases my strength.
We talked about a little miracle.
A miracle that sounds so incredibly stupid but it is such a huge thing.
For the past five years I have to take besides my regular medication in mornings and in the evenings a little extra cocktail of meds in the afternoon to keep my extreme nervousness in check.
I'm nervous and tense 24/7 and it takes a toll on my body sometimes.
It makes it very hard to sleep and to find a way to sit still.
So the extra meds are necessary..
Ten days ago I started to listen to Podfics and quickly discovered a new way to enjoy the Sherlock universe.
I'm 43 years old and retired since I was 39 because my body couldn't take the stress anymore.
I have some free times during the day and I made it a habit for the past ten days to listen to Podfics in the afternoon and again at night.
And suddenly I could sleep and, and here comes the miracle..
I forgot to take my afternoon meds.
Even more my body relaxed in a way I haven't experienced in decades.
My body was obviously as surprised as I am because since a few days I have to drink a coffee in the afternoon, otherwise I would fall asleep.
I can only drink coffee without caffeine which tastes awful but otherwise my nervousness goes through the roof and I shake like a leaf.
But now instead of taking an extra dose of anxiety relief pills I take a real good old black coffee full of caffeine after listening to Podfics.
And that sounds incredibly ridiculous but for me it is a miracle because for the first time in over 15 years I feel calm and not because of a chemical reaction but because of a human reaction.
I know @totallysilvergirl had no idea what would happen by telling me about Podfics but I will never forget it!
Back to my incredible doctor who saw the change from a person who was determined to end this endless circle of depression and anxiety to a person who smiles again.
Now he ordered a six months try of daily Podfics ( no joke) to see if my blood levels improves and accordingly my medication can be reduced.
He knows that in the past three years my disorder was always better during my Sherlock highs so he is actually happy about the new development.
Long story short ( too late I know)
Do whatever feels right for you!
Invent your own therapy!
Do what makes you happy no matter how unconventional it might be.
Because you matter!!!!
I attach you my new and exciting Podfic collection for you.
Maybe you will find something you like.
Of course everything is available in Reading form as well.
Be happy in your own, weird, wonderful way.
@keirgreeneyes @discordantwords @a-victorian-girl @bewitched-bullet @lisbeth-kk @whatnext2020 @inevitably-johnlocked @barachiki @babaybo @jobooksncoffee @rey-jake-therapist @missdeliadili @helloliriels @podfixx @johnlocky @johnlockpodficclub @johnlockficclub @peanitbear @strawberrywinter4 @chocolate1elise @kettykika78
#bbc sherlock#johnlock#john watson#sherlock holmes#fanfiction#fandom#alternate universe#sherlock loves john#johnlovessherlock#podfic recs are the staff of life#johnlock podfics#mental health#you are loved#you deserve it#you are not alone
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Inspired by the photo loving Suguru ✨️🤍
Can I request reader getting mildly injured after a mission, maybe a head bump or a knee scrape, and Suguru suggests getting ice cream with their friends to cheer her up?
hand under my sweatshirt, baby kiss it better
wc: 0.7k
cw/tags: swearing, mild hurt/comfort, angst if you really squint, mostly just fluff and suguru taking care of you
note: HII SWIRRLEY you always have the most fun suguru asks and i love writing them :D nothing like some good ol' character A sitting on a sink while character B cleans up their wound. i hope you like this one !!!!!
likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3
“I’m going to pick Satoru’s eyelashes off one by one for making me cover him, I swear on all things–”
"Shit, the hell happened to you?" He leans against the doorframe of the bathroom, watching you clean up the scrape on your elbow as your legs dangle off the edge of the sink. Your hand unconsciously jerks away when the saturated cotton pad meets the tender flesh and you curse for the umpteenth time under your breath. It was a little ironic, a semi-grade one sorcerer reduced to a swearing, sputtering mess. You flinch again as a stray drop of isopropyl alcohol drips onto the cut and his eyebrows furrow. “You need some help there, Doc?”
“I don’t need your condescension right now, Su,” you mutter, hands shaky and vision blurry from the aching pain on your arm. “Just say ‘I told you so’ and leave me be.”
“There’s a difference between condescension and genuine concern, dear,” he says patiently, crossing the tile in two long strides and plucking the cotton pad from your fingers. “Right now, I’m trying to convey the latter. If anything, I’m gonna kick Satoru’s ass for making you go without me in the first place.” He tosses it into the trash bin before grabbing a washcloth and wetting the corner with warm water. You eye him warily, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he expectantly holds out a hand for you to rest your elbow on. “Well?”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because I want to take care of you? Because you got hurt and I want you to feel better?” He states what should be obvious facts to you with an air of exasperation and you frown, turning your face to the side in burning shame. You weren’t used to this, someone caring about your wellbeing after a mission. Sure, Shoko and Satoru liked to pester you about what to eat for dinner as soon as your shoes slipped off, but Suguru was the only one who actually checked to make sure you were okay. “You don’t have to be embarrassed that I see you like this. Heaven knows you’ve seen me at worse,” he quips and your mouth turns up into the slightest smirk. He was right; you’d definitely patched him up more times than you can count on both hands and probably both feet, too. After a few more moments of hesitation, you sit your arm in his palm.
“Thank you, Su, for–ow, fucking fuck,” you hiss when the cloth meets the scrape and he murmurs an apology under his breath. “So, was the alcohol overkill?”
“A little bit, yeah,” he smiles and it makes your stomach flutter. “It’s okay, though. At least we know you’re not going to get an infection.”
“To be fair, Shoko told me to clean it up with alcohol first.”
“Shoko also told you she plans to cheat on her med school exams,” he reminds you and you huff in defeat, much to his entertainment. “I’m just glad I found you before you gripped the counter so hard, it broke.”
“Okay, now who’s being overkill?”
“Doesn’t matter if I am, because I just distracted you long enough to clean up your wound.” He shrugs proudly and you gape at him for a few seconds, completely forgetting what he was doing there in the first place. Right, he was cleaning up your scrape, but why did you get so distracted with him in such close proximity? “How are you feeling now?”
“Much better,” you admit and he nods in understanding, fingers lightly brushing your skin around where you collided with the rocky concrete.
“That’s good. Change your clothes and meet me in the parking lot in ten minutes.” He dusts his hands off like he’d performed some sort of life-altering surgery, tossing the dirty towel over his shoulder and heading for the door.
“Huh?” You think you’re still slightly delirious and imagining his words.
“Let’s go get ice cream with Shoko and Satoru, my treat,” he calls over his shoulder, shooting you a grin that makes your legs turn to jelly. “You definitely deserve it.” Hopping down from the sink, you jokingly shout down the hallway after him and he waves his hand dismissively.
“Are you in love with me, Geto Suguru?”
“Something like that!”
if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)
#geto x you#geto x reader#geto x y/n#suguru x you#suguru x reader#suguru x y/n#geto suguru x you#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru x y/n#suguru fluff#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jjk x reader
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So happy your requests are open! Would love to see your take on Alex Keller. Smut of course. Dealers' choice, I'd only ask no noncon or dubcon.
😘🥰
Here you go my little pickle ❤️
Protector/bodyguard - established relationship
Alex Keller x F!reader
Warnings - minors DNI, 18+, explicit smut
A/N - I know nothing about computers, coding or hacking lmao
Protection
You weren’t sure wether work could get anymore boring on a rainy Wednesday afternoon, but here you were. Proved wrong. Again. Price had left a mountain of work for you to do, intel he wanted double checking, maps he wanted upgrading, a new location for a safe house. If you were being honest he was being a bit of a prick.
Needing to stretch your legs you wandered to the kitchen for coffee. Shitty ass office coffee. The kettle boiled and you went to fetch milk from the fridge. Lo and behold there was none. Slamming the fridge shut you stormed back to your office. Could today get any worse?
Evidently. It could.
There was a pop up on your screen that you’d not seen before. Investigating further you found that a piece of code you’d been working on, to find a terrorist group, had worked. You’d broken their code. ‘Price! Get in here! Now!’ You yelled at the top of your lungs. ‘Why? Haven’t I given you enough work?!’
‘You’re gonna wanna see this!’
His footsteps echoed down the hallway as he ran towards your office. ‘What’s up love?’
Spinning in your chair you had a huge grin on your face, looking rather proud. ‘Well, you know that group in Al Mazrah? Moving weapons. That you’ve been struggling to find for months? This is their co-ordinates.’ Smug wouldn’t even begin to describe how you looked.
Price planted both hands on your shoulders, congratulating you. ‘Well I never. Well done love. I’ll let the boys know!’ He fired off a few texts and began looking at the screen with you. As you both tried to locate it on the map suddenly the cursor began to move on its own. ‘What the fuck?’ You whispered squinting at the screen, ‘someone’s taken control of the computer?’
Price looked over your shoulder just as confused. Until it dawned on you. ‘Oh fuck!’ You yelled, jumping up from your chair. Hand over your mouth your chest heaved. ‘What? What’s wrong?!’ Price half spoke, half shouted. ‘It’s them! They’ve hacked me back! Oh fuck oh fuck!’
Without thinking you yanked the plug out from the socket, the computer shutting down. Screen now black. ‘Shit. I’ll let Laswell know-.’ You cut him off before he could continue. ‘I don’t know what they’ve seen John! They could have taken anything from my computer! My name? My address? This place?!’
Panic swelled inside you, chest tight, walls closing in as your heart thumped in your chest. You felt dizzy. ‘Hey hey hey! Sh sh sh’ he cooed, pulling you into a tight hug. ‘I’ll get Laswell on this. Go home, grab the essentials. I’ll have someone waiting for you there, they’ll take you to a safe house. Let’s keep you locked down till we know what’s happened.’
———
After grabbing some essentials; toothbrush, toothpaste, clean pants, comfy clothes, meds and of course wine you ran back downstairs. A black 4x4 was already say outside, just like Price had said.
As you locked your door a familiar voice chirped up behind you. ‘How’d I know it was you causing trouble?’ Spinning round you caught site of an old friend. Alex Keller. ‘Oh my god! Alex!’ You jumped into his arms, giving him a warm hug. ‘So you’re the one Price sent to look after me eh?’
‘Unfortunately’ he chuckled, ‘come on get in, we need to move.’
You spent the car ride catching up with your old friend, exchanging war stories, joking, laughing. It was easy to forget they may be a target on your head.
The safe house was a small flat on the second floor of a run down complex. You pulled a face when you saw it, making Alex chuckle. ‘It’s been a long time since I stayed in one of these. Jesus’ you sighed. Clapping you on the back Alex took your bag and led the way.
The flat wasn’t too bad, it was clean, even if the wall paper was hanging on for dear life. The floor was worn, blackout blinds on every window and the distinct musty smell that only a safe house would have. ‘How long you keeping me here?’ You asked as you wandered around, learning the layout. ‘Couple days tops. Laswell’s on it, should know soon enough if they got any info on you.’
Rolling your eyes you couldn’t help but laugh, ‘it would be me wouldn’t it.’ Alex smiled as he removed his bulletproof vest and hoodie. You had missed him. ‘Loving the whiskers’ you chuckled as you swiped your thumb over his facial hair. ‘Im gonna go shower, need to wash as much of this day off me as possible.’
After your shower you felt slightly more relaxed, comfortable clothes and the smell of food coming from the kitchen. Alex had microwaved two meals, a spaghetti carbonara for you, and a bolognaise for him. Giggling you ran back to fetch the wine from your bag, a merlot, one of your favourites.
Setting it down Alex looked at you in disbelief, ‘really?’ You nodded enthusiastically ‘Price told me to pack essentials. Soooo …’ you shrugged gesturing to the wine.
You both enjoyed dinner, Alex cleaned up while your settled on the sofa, wine in hand. ‘You gonna have a glass with me?’ You asked, hopeful. He shook his head ‘can’t while I’m protecting your ass can I?’ Pouting you tried your best to flash him your most innocent and sad puppy dog eyes. ‘Pretty please?’ He rolled his eyes while he bit his lip, ‘I guess I can have one. For you.’
‘Well, lucky you there’s only enough left for one. I may be on my third glass’ you grimaced.
He settled down on the sofa and sipped the wine, you weren’t sure if you were more tipsy than you gave yourself credit for. But Alex looked … handsome. You watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed the wine, how his tongue left a trail of saliva on his lips. His splayed hips, taught muscles under his t-shirt.
Jesus what were you thinking.
You felt a heat pooling in your stomach as you studied him, a want, a need. His face lit up as he scrolled on his phone, completely oblivious to your growing need for him. ‘So, fill me in are you seeing anyone?’ You asked, as you finished the last of your wine. ‘Nah. I was seeing someone for a bit but she couldn’t cope with me being away for months on end’ he shrugged, ‘what about you?’
‘Same, the dating pool seems pretty thin. It gets pretty … lonely’ you bit your lip, averting your gaze from him.
Putting his phone away he placed all his attention on you. ‘Bullshit. How are you single? Or at least not even dating. If I remember rightly on our nights out you’d have a pick of the bunch.’
‘Getting old now Alex’ you winked.
‘Shut up. You could have anyone you wanted.’
‘Anyone?’ You asked, narrowing your gaze at him. He swallowed, hard. ‘You’re drunk.’
‘And you’re handsome’ you whispered as leant over to stroke his thigh.
Sensing no hesitation from him you slipped onto his lap, thighs spread wide as you gulped the last of his wine. You played with his dog tags between your fingers. The metal warm from resting on his skin. ‘Do you want me to stop Alex?’ You asked as you held his gaze, you felt him try to readjust his hips as you sank yourself lower. He shook his head. ‘Words handsome.’
‘N-no’ he stammered.
Pressing your torso against his you rolled your hips, his cock hard beneath you. Hovering your lips just above his you whispered ‘what do you want me to do to you?’ His breath visibly caught in his chest at your words. ‘God … anything you want.’
‘Mmm good boy’ you hummed.
You pushed your lips to his, pulling him into the kiss. The fire in your pussy raged as he trailed his hands down your ribs and onto your waist, holding you there. Throwing your arms around his neck you wound your fingers in his hair. He coaxed your mouth open to deepen the kiss, his tongue slipped over yours as he encouraged you to grind on his hips. The pressure danced along your clit as he moved your hips back and forth.
‘Fuck’ you breathed as you broke the kiss ‘you feel so big.’ He whined at your praise as he lent in to kiss you again. But you stopped him, instead climbing off him and nuzzling yourself in between his thighs. Undoing his belt you smiled up at him greedily, pulling his boxers down just enough to free his cock. Your mouth watered at the sight.
You kissed the top of his cock, causing him to whimper under his breath. With a swipe of your tongue you licked from the base to top, tantalisingly slow. Eyes locked on his the entire time. He gripped onto the sofa, bucking his hips. Placing gentle kisses along his shaft you watched as he tried to keep still, veins protruding from his hands. ‘Fuck … please’ he muttered, voice cracking.
You hummed against his cock, smiling at how quickly he’d become a whimpering pathetic mess. Taking him into your mouth you bobbed your head, allowing saliva to overflow from your lips. His breathing became shallow, fast, desperate. He placed his hands at the back of your head, gently pressing you down as far as your mouth would allow you. Gagging you dug your nails into his thighs, tears pricked the corner of your eyes as he tested your gag reflex.
He writhed beneath you, whispered moans, strangled whimpers as you swallowed his cock. The salty taste of precum danced on your tongue, signalling it was time to stop. Pulling back saliva dripped from your mouth, drawing in a large breath you looked up at him. His pupils blown wide, his eyes now appeared black. ‘Fuck’ he murmured.
You climbed onto his lap, but not before removing your trousers and panties. Holding his cock you ran it along your cunt, coating it with your arousal. ‘You gonna fuck me Alex? You gonna make me cum?’
‘God … yes, you’re so wet’ he said as he gripped your bare thighs.
Sinking down his cock stretched you open, filling you perfectly. You both moaned, placing your foreheads against one another. He moved you again, making you grind on him, his pubic bone added the right amount of pressure to your clit. Taking back control you began to bounce, he held your ass as you took his cock. The sound of skin slapping filled the tiny flat as you both became breathless.
Alex pulled you into a kiss, making you grind once more ‘need to feel you cum baby’ he purred. ‘So close … fuck’ you panted. You took his hand and placed it on your clit, he moved his fingers in small circles as he felt your pussy tighten around him. ‘Don’t fucking stop’ you ordered burying your face in his neck.
With one more circular motion you came around his cock, you whined into his skin as you rocked your hips back and forth. ‘Shit Alex!’ His breath became ragged as he tip toed on the verge of his own orgasm. Feeling him tense beneath you, you moved yourself up and down coaxing him to finish. ‘Fill me Alex, cum in my pussy’ you said as you nipped his ear.
He slammed your hips down on his cock, hard, once, twice, three times. On the final thrust he came, his eyes screwed shut, mouth agape as he struggled for air. He wrapped his arms around you as his cock pulsed inside you. You felt full, satiated. Grinning you bit your lip, ‘that was amazing.’
He nodded in agreement, ‘fuck, if you ever need protecting again lemme know.’
#call of duty#alex keller#alex keller x reader#alex keller x you#Alex Keller smut#call of duty fanfic#call of duty smut#cod fanfiction#cod mw#cod smut
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08. reunion day
“c’mon yn, stop being such a pussy.” tighnari sigh as you two entered the restaurant. ever since you got into the car and left, you’ve been gripping on your friend (tighnari)’s sleeve. “nari that is a lot to ask from me-” “ah! yn, tighnari! it’s good to see you two again!” nilou ran towards you two. she saw you holding onto tighnari’s suit sleeve and chuckled. “so… yn… are you and tighnari toget-” “no!” you both exclaimed in unison. “yn and i are just good friends that met during the med program,” tighnari explained. “anyways, let’s get to the room, shall we?”
walking towards the reserved room, you realized how many people were invited. seeing the people that were your former classmates made you… anxious? “i wonder if… if kaveh and haitham’s here.” you muttered in which nilou picked up on. “oh yes! they are! i saw them and talked to kaveh around a few minutes before you two arrived.” “ah, i see. thank you nilou.”
entering the room, your eyes lay upon the back of two familiar-looking individuals.
“for fucks sake yn, get your phone.” tighnari scolded you. “it’s been barely a minute since we sat down and you’re already on your phone… please have some control.”
“i’m sorry nari, i was texting kuni about-” “of course you were,” he laughed. he knew that you and scaramouche had a close relationship, in fact, most if not all of liyue knows.
“yn! nari!” you two hear a voice. “dehya! we’re glad you’re here! come sit beside us.” “so yn, what’s the plan with al haitham and kaveh?” deyha asked you, smiling. “i think i’m going to just walk up to them and say “hi” you know?” “sounds about right. they’re right over there, go do it right now!” tighnari and dehya pushed you off your chair, making you stand up and walk towards the two.
you took a big breath in and then went towards them. “hey pretty boy,” you said tapping kaveh’s shoulder and grinning. “sorry i’m- yn??” “the one and only” “oh my god YN!! i missed you so much holy shit, it’s actually you.” kaveh exclaimed, pulling you two a big hug. “i missed you too kaveh… i’ve never imagined that you’d be the type of person to grow your hair out- is that haitham beside you?”
“oh yeah that’s him. wait give me a second, he’s wearing noise-cancelling earbuds.” kaveh tapped on al haitham and then pointed at you. he shrugged and took out his earbuds. “i’m sorry, do i know you?” he asked cocking an eyebrow. “haitham it’s literally yn. you know like the one we were talking about-” “nice to meet you, yn. have we met before?” al haitham said, cutting kaveh off.
you were shocked. does al haitham really not remember you? maybe he has bad memory…? “ahem, anyways, yn. i’ll bring you back to your table.” kaveh said, interrupting your thoughts.
“i’m so sorry about him, yn. listen i think he’s just having a “bad memory moment” or something. it happens a lot when he takes my keys.” kaveh sighed, walking you back to your seat. “no it’s fine! i understand. like two years is long, isn’t it?” “yeah it is, but not enough to forget you… by the way, could i have your number- haha i mean like only if you’re comfortable. i wouldn’t want to-” “kaveh, of course, you can! here, i’ll write it down for you.”
you wrote down your number on a napkin, gave it to kaveh then sat down. did your friend, al haitham really forget about you…?
CULT OF DIONYSUS ❀ prev ✿ masterlist ✿ next
al haitham x reader x kaveh
SYNOPSIS kaveh, al haitham and you are close friends and went to the same high school. but after your junior year, you left them and sumeru behind for liyue’s 2 year med school exchange program. now you’re back in sumeru for a class reunion and attending sumeru akademiya.
#⁺◟✿ cult of dionysus : al haitham x reader x kaveh#al haitham x reader#al haitham smau#kaveh x reader#kaveh smau#al haitham x kaveh#genshin smau
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Hey hey 😊 it's my bday this week and i thought i could ask for a Kelly Severide imagine where you're working at the Ambo 61 and you and the Lieutenant have a crush on each other. But one time he notices you acting weird and also dont show up at a shift, not informing anyone. 51 then gets called to an emergency and they find you there due to being kinda kidnapped from a guy you met at Mollys (with whom you wanted to forget Kelly). Later at the Med Kelly and everyone is there till you wake up and he immediately lectures you about what you were thinking. Then he finally admits his feelings and how scared he was to lose you. Just a lot of angsty fluff if that's fine with you 🩷
Title : Taken - Kelly Severide x fem!reader
Warnings : stalking, kidnapping, creepy men, angst, hospitals, incorrect medical stuff, this fic is kinda dark,
A/n : happy birthday!!!! And I hope you will have the best day ever ❤️❤️❤️ thank you for the request! I’m really sorry if this fic doesn’t make much sense 😭 I’m too tired to proofread so there might be some mistakes and sorry this took me so long to post but it’s been a long week :)
It was no secret to anyone in the firehouse that you and the lieutenant were both in love with each other.
Everyone could see it. Well except for you and Kelly.
Since neither of you had made a move to ask the other one out. Your coworkers even started bets on how long it might take for you two to finally start dating. I mean it was so obvious with how your face lit up every single time he walked into a room, and how Kelly would sometimes stare at you with a big grin on his face. Even Boden saw it.
You were a paramedic with ambo 61 and you sometimes got called into horrific places and situations but it never was this bad.
Severide was also the first to notice that something was wrong with you. You looked scared and tired ever since you went on that date that Gabby set up for you and one of her friends at Molly’s. Which you only agreed to go on since you wanted to get over Kelly. You felt like he didn’t like you the same way you liked him.
Kelly tried talking to you, but you would just say that you’re fine and just tired from work. He didn’t believe a single word you said, he knew something was wrong. But he didn’t know what was wrong. Which made him so mad, since he wanted the best for you and he wanted to make sure that you were alright.
But that was about to change drastically.
You were his best friend and Kelly had no idea what he would do without you. Until it all came crashing down. You didn’t show up for your shift and you didn’t answer your phone at all.
That made the alarm bells in Kelly’s head ring so hard. Something was wrong, you would never be late to shift and you nearly always called back or answered the phone as soon as possible.
And he was sadly right. Something was terribly wrong, after talking to the Chief. Kelly ran to his car to drive to your apartment to check on you.
What he saw terrified him.
There were police tapes all over your front door. The Lieutenant’s face dropped, quickly walking up to Jay he started asking a million questions at once. Like “Where is Y/n?” “Why are there tapes all over her front door?”
Jay looked at him surprised. “Oh you didn’t hear about it? Someone took Y/n. I thought you guys heard it already.” Kelly could feel the blood drain from his face. He looked pale like a ghost.
No, no, no this can’t be happening. Was the only thought going through his head. Kelly felt how his hands were shaking when he pulled out his phone to quickly call the chief and tell him what had happened.
Driving back to the firehouse after Jay told him they would all do their best to make sure you returned home safe, Kelly simply felt numb, he felt guilty for not checking up on you earlier or doing something to help earlier.
Everyone at the firehouse was in shock, the firehouse felt so empty without you. It just wasn’t the same without you.
Later they got a call about a small fire in some old abandoned house and after gearing up and getting into the trucks,they all rode in silence. You were one of the best paramedics ambo 61 ever had. And they knew that you would fight your way out no matter what and that you would return home.
The call went okayish, since they managed to put out the fire pretty fast and after finding no one inside they decided to gather up everything and return to the firehouse. CPD suspected someone did this on purpose. Kelly was talking to Jay asking him if there were any updates on your case and sadly he had no new updates.
“Kelly.” One of the firefighters yelled, looking over at the house. The front door opened and with a big cloud of smoke, Herrman appeared with someone in his arms.
It was you.
Kelly never ran as fast as he did in that moment, he needed to get to you to make sure you were alright. You were alive but unconscious. He rode the whole way over to med holding your hand with Gabby in the back and the paramedic who stepped in on your place at the front.
After Maggie directed him and the rest of the firefighters from 51 to the waiting room somewhere upstairs, Kelly sat down and he finally felt like he could breathe again. They took you in to check if you hadn’t broken any bones or something, Severide wasn’t really listening to what the doctor was saying, since he was too focused on the fact that they had found you.
Kelly felt relieved that they found you, but the one thing that was bugging him was ‘why were you there? what happened?’
Later on after your check up was done and you were still resting and asleep, the doctor finally them to visit you two at a time.
Looking over at everyone, chief Boden got up and gestured for Severide to follow him. Quickly getting up Kelly followed him to your room.
He could feel the tears coming when he saw how pale and fragile you looked in that hospital bed. Walking up to you, Kelly gently took your hand and sat by your bedside. After a while chief Boden left, while squeezing his shoulder and whispering that they would all be in the waiting room area.
Kelly just sat there holding your hand for what felt like ages but it was only an hour. Soon he felt your hand begin to move and your eyes slowly opened. “Where am I?” You asked softly looking around and finally looking over to Kelly. “You’re at the hospital sweetheart. Do you remember what happened?” He asked softly while putting a cup with water up to your lips. “Not really, I remember that there was some guy in my apartment saying something to me and then it all went black.” You mumbled. “You scared me, you know? I thought I lost you Y/n/n.” Kelly said looking at you with eyes full of tears.
Gently moving on your bed you patted the spot next to you, gesturing for Kelly to sit down next to you. When he sat down, you immediately pulled him into a hug softly rubbing his back while he cried. “I thought I lost you. What were you thinking Y/n/n? Could have died.” Severide said sadly. “I’m sorry. I should have said something sooner about the guy. He started following me after that stupid date. I didn’t even want to go but I just wanted to get over you since you don’t feel the same.” You mumbled, hoping Kelly wouldn’t hear the last sentence. But it was too late since he had heard you already.
Pulling away he looked at you gently wiping the tears from your cheeks, you didn’t even notice that you were crying since you were simply embarrassed that he heard what you said. “Why do you think that I don’t feel the same?” He asked.
“I just thought since you didn’t make a move or ask me out then I just took it as a sign that you didn’t like me like that.” You replied playing with the blanket that was put over you to keep you warm.
“Y/n/n, ever since I saw you I’ve been in love with you. I was just too scared to make a move, sweetheart. It’s not that I don’t like you or anything. I just didn't want to lose you.” He said gently pulling you in for a hug.
You pulled Kelly in even closer. “I’m sorry.” You said softly into his neck. “I’m sorry too honey. I should have noticed and said something earlier instead of just not doing anything. I was so terrified I’d lose another person I loved. I love you Y/n. And I’m so glad you’re alright.” Kelly pulled you even closer into his arms and started rubbing your back. “I love you too and I’m sorry for scaring you.” You said looking at him with tears in your eyes.
The rest of your stay at the hospital, Kelly or someone else from firehouse 51 would come and visit you and bring you food and just joke around with you.
Luckily they did catch the guy who took you and since it wasn’t his first time breaking the law he went to jail for some time for breaking the law and doing some other bad things.
#kelly severide#chicago fire#kelly severide x reader#one chicago#one chicago x reader#one chicago imagine#kelly severide imagine
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𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭
Hey! Here's a compiled list of prompts for people to use, feel free to submit any of these for requests or to use in your own writing. I didn't come up with all of these myself so check out the credited creators! Requests are not limited to these prompts, feel free to think of your own or change these up!
𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐆𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 «» 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬: 𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐧
: ̗̀➛ 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟
“I’d rather sit and do nothing with you than do anything with anyone else.”
“Would a hug make things better?”
"You wanna cuddle for the rest of the morning?"
"Just hold me?"
"You're being extra cuddly this morning."
"Quiet night on the couch?"
“You make me want to be the best I can be.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone that you like to be the little spoon.”
“Do I really have to spell it out for you?”
“You look really cute in my clothes.”
“You’re special. People like you don’t come around often.”
“I’ve only ever loved you.”
"You're hogging the blankets."
"May I have this dance?"
“Are you blushing?! That’s adorable.”
“Breathtaking. You’re breathtaking.”
“You should smile more often, it looks good on you.”
“Did you just kiss me to shut me up?”
“Should we make it official?”
“Can you wash my hair for me?”
"You're crazy if you think I'm letting you sleep on the couch."
"Can I braid your hair?"
"I'm not giving up on you, ever. I promise you.”
“You’re being very unsubtle with your heart eyes for them.”
“I’m proud of you, no matter what.”
"You're the worst, I love you so much."
"You got me flowers?"
: ̗̀➛ 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭
“Did you ever really love me?”
"Why did you come back?"
“You couldn’t just let me have this, could you?”
“Just because you hate your life doesn’t mine to get to dictate mine!”
“Look what you’ve done…”
"You promised you wouldn’t forget me."
“I don’t have an attitude, I just answered your question.”
“Please say something!”
"I get it! You're jealous!"
“Us? There was never an ‘us’.”
“Is this how it really ends?”
“Why can’t you be happy for me for once?”
“It’s too late for ‘I’m sorries’.”
"I thought I'd lost you forever."
“Ha… I told you you’d outlive me.”
“Since when did you ever care about me?!”
“Tell me how I’m supposed to un-love you, then. Tell me. Spare me.”
“Kiss me one last time?
“Why did you think you could change this?! You’re nothing!”
“This is all your fault.”
“I vouched for you! How could you?!"
"God, how blind can you be?"
“You’re either a fool for not knowing or an idiot for not doing something!”
: ̗̀➛ 𝐇𝐮𝐫𝐭/𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭
“Shut up and just let me take care of you!”
“Either go to bed and get some rest willingly, or I will drag your ass down the hall kicking and screaming. you know i’ll have no problem with either option.”
"How long have you been hiding this?"
“And just when were you planning to tell me you were sick?"
“Please be okay. Please be okay, please be okay—”
“You’re awfully quiet today.”
“Get behind me.”
“Here, lean on me. I can carry you.”
“Hey! Hey, relax it was just a nightmare, I’m right here.”
“You dumbass. Don’t do that. Ever again.”
“Try and get some sleep. I’ll stay right here- I won’t let anything happen to you, I swear.”
“We’re gonna fix you up, brand new. I promise.”
“Bless you! Jesus that nearly gave me a heart attack, how about a little warning next time?”
“Your hands are freezing! come here, let me warm you up.”
“Show me?”
“Your bedside manner is awful.”
“Your not exactly a good patient.”
"Did you eat something bad?"
“Would you like a heating pad?”
“I think I just started my period…”
“Oh darling, this fever, you’re totally burning up.”
“You can sleep in my bed, if it'd be of any help.”
"How many fingers am I holding up? ... I don't have six fingers."
“What the hell happened to you?”
“Did you remember to take your meds this morning?”
“Don’t be stupid, now sit down before you pass out.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Stay?”
“Who did this to you?”
“You’re not fine! You’re bleeding for gods sake!”
: ̗̀➛ 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭
"I want to taste you so badly."
"Make me beg for it."
"Oh I can do this all night long."
"Be a good girl and use your words darling."
"You surprise me every day."
"Let's find out how much you want it."
"Kiss me, I can't wait any longer."
"Come on, please, do it."
“Don’t worry, I’d take you out for dinner before I eat you out for dessert. It’s the polite thing to do.”
"Do you like it when I talk like that?"
"Oh, you like that?"
"Hmm, you're not very patient, are you?"
"Well, let's see what happens tonight."
“I’ll be gentle, baby. Don’t worry.”
"Can you kiss it better?"
"Keep the noise down, baby. Someone's gonna walk in."
“God, you look amazing like this.”
"Let’s put that smart mouth to good use.”
"Oh, you're hard to please."
"I had a very nice dream that started like this."
"Can you be good for me?"
"It's so hot when you talk like that."
"I'll go as long as you need."
prompt sources: @.scealaiscoite, @.sleepywriter00, @.dumplingsjinson, @.euthymiaaa, @.novelbear, @.luvmmarner, @.promptsbytaurie, @.creativepromptsforwriting, @.rosewritingprompts
#prompt list#prompts#fluff prompts#angst prompts#smut prompts#hurt/comfort prompts#requests#mcu#supergirl
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