#i remember thinking that there was no theme so i could submit whatever. but the anthology DEFINITELY had a theme and my poem was not it

[seaofreverie]

One year ago I made this lil comic about being aromantic, based on the lyrics of Eaten By The Monster Of Love! I meant to post it on the anniversary of me making it but I missed the day, oops... so today felt like a fitting alternative :3

Happy Valentine's Day!! Whether you were eaten by the monster of love or not, I hope you have a fun day today!

[0tul1ss]

maybe I should get back into writing, I used to write so much more in college--mostly poetry as a way to vent (which I occasionally still do, but I never go back and workshop to what feels like a passable endpoint to that process), but a few drabbles here and there. never went for anything longer bc it felt like something out of reach for myself to realistically want to complete. but idk. maybe it's today's adderall kicking in and the fact that I've gotten relatively good sleep for the first time in a bit but what if I just tried and it was kind of awesome

[starsofjewels]

no wait because I loved the autistic headcanons you did for tywin and tyrion!! of you could, can you do one for jaime as well? it was just chef kiss, I need so much more of it!

When Gold Met Silver

Jaime Lannister x Autistic! Lannister! Reader

CONTENT: Vague mentions of Joanna's death, Tywin being an incredible(!) father, subtle neurodivergency, Lannisters are their own warning

For any confusion, please read the other 2 parts of the series (link pending)

No joke I had 4 requests all asking for Jaime and the sister, so apparently it gets traction now (?) teehee...

Thank you everyone who submitted the exact same request, this was just the first one on the pile. Now I wait for Cersei requests....

· �� ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Welcome to the first post of 2025, and what a way to bring it in. I'm starting to think the autistic Lannister reader might just become a series at this point, but I'm not going to complain.

Happy New Year, hopefully it'll be better than the last one. I don't know what to expect from this year yet, but I have a whole pile of unfinished drafts to either finish or delete, so we'll see what gets pulled out...

Love you all lots xx

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

When you are born, Jaime is twelve years old- Nearly thirteen, as he is terribly fond of reminding those around him. He is a knight-to-be, and one day he will be a lord in his own right, and he shall have Casterly Rock as his herald. Jaime does not care about the squalling, pink lumps his mother produces for him any more than he does the young ladies of court, who bat their eyes and fawn, like little rabbits caught out in the open season.

But you are something different. And it is your fault that his mother is gone from this world, to whatever lies beyond. He will have no more nights under the stars, recounting each one to her delight, nor stories of his grandfather’s mishaps. He will never feel her embrace, or her love, again. Jaime Lannister is twelve years old, and he is no different from any other boy. He loves swords, and he loves sneaking glances at pretty ladies as they walk past him, and he loved his mother.

Tywin instructs him, very firmly, that he is not to speak such horrid things about his baby sister, nor is he to even think about them. You are beautiful, Tywin says, and perfect in every sense of the word. His gaze falls to young Tyrion, in the corner, with his nursemaidens, and his eyes crinkle with something like disapproval.

You are dressed, bizarrely, in silver and the kind of sweet, dusky orange one might associate with Dorne, and certainly not a pale Westerlands girl. Not scarlet, and definitely not gold. As it transpires, Tywin has had Tyrion’s swaddling clothes burned, or locked away somewhere, and he cannot bear to be reminded of a time Joanna, lively and beautiful, cradled any child in Lannister colours, so your blankets are fresh, and new. 

Newness seems to be a recurring theme in your life, as observed by a young, growing Jaime Lannister. He is far too busy training to particularly care, not as much as Cersei does, at least, but even a deafened, dumb beggar out on the streets could notice the blatant favouritism you receive. Jaime is not bothered by this, but he listens to his sister’s constant fixation with your father’s love to a numbing extent. 

“And she sleeps in his chambers-” Your move from the nursery to the Hand’s chambers has become something of an overused point. “She’ll be in his bed next!”

Jaime crosses his arms, unamused. He knows Cersei crosses the line frequently, and this, apparently, is one of those times. You are a little child, even he can see that, you have no control over your own life. 

“What, are you defending her honour?” 

He sits opposite his sister, and says quietly,

“She’s an infant, what does she need honour for?” 

It is the one time in his life Jaime can remember actually defending someone against Cersei’s jibes. Usually, he lets them slide through, with a vaguely interested hum. But you are a baby, and, despite how much he yearns to blame you for his mother’s death, it really is not your fault. The Gods could have sent Joanna any child, and any child would have done the same. 

And so, Jaime begins to see you how your father does. Where Tywin sees you as his angel of earth, his purpose, Jaime takes a much more mellowed approach. He takes you out riding on your pony, regardless of Tywin’s instructions, and, when you ask, he gets you a practice sword and your own helmet. With enough begging, he gets one of Cersei’s friends to cover the bruising with her powders. Your sister will still not look at you.

Cersei is almost jealous. That is, until a tiny, chubby toddler bounds into her lap and insists that she is a princess. Princess Cersei seems to have a certain fondness for her little lion-cub of a sister, and when Jaime finds her tying ribbons into your hair, he seems relieved, more than anything. After that, she dresses you up in her old clothes, and parades you about, practically on her hip, and pony rides are supervised; no more powders.

But, war is war, and war changes people. 

Jaime becomes a Kingslayer, and Princess Cersei becomes a queen. They are corrupted by court, corrupted by Tywin, and most everything falls into disarray. This is what happens when the mighty dragon falls to the lowly deer, apparently. 

You are seven years old the first time you come back to the Red Keep, with your anxious father, and a whole new king upon the throne. He dresses you in red and silver- A rather odd choice but, supposedly, you refuse gold with a burning passion. He has never heard of a Lannister refusing to wear gold. Even your bracelets are of silver- Silver and rubies. A nice combination, of course, but not a Lannister one.

Tyrion follows along behind, but he does not care about that. Tyrion is a young man, he has changed very little, it is you who is different- Grown by at least three, if not four, inches, your sweet blonde hair darkened down, and a still face. He can’t forget those big eyes, frozen in fear. You do not recognise him. 

Tywin keeps your arm, he moves Jaime away from you. Something is terribly wrong, apparently, and he cannot figure out what. Cersei seems to know, his father and brother know as well. And there is a jealousy which builds, to not be aware of this ailment. He thinks you are dying. You are not, of course.

“What is wrong with her?” Tywin looks up briefly from his studies. You are in your chambers, tucked up in blankets which, almost a decade ago, he can remember himself visiting and watching his mother hold you up. “She doesn’t talk, she doesn’t look at me- Is it serious?”

And his father sighs, in a way only he can,

“She is intelligent, nothing more than that. She likes her things in a particular order, and she doesn’t trust those she does not know.”

“I’m her brother.”

“And she has only had memories for the past eight moons.” Tywin stands, setting his book down upon his chair, “She will warm up, always does. Take her to the stables, she still likes ponies. But not the horses.”

Jaime wants to say more- What is so wrong with horses?- But he gets the sense that there is no more room for argument.

The next morning, whilst Tywin goes to inspect Jon Arryn’s timetabling capabilities, you are brought down with him to see the ponies, who are neatly sectioned in their own place. They bite the horses, apparently, the stablemasters are still trying to heal Robert’s stallion. You trudge past the larger mares nervously, and you jump when they make a noise, or move any more than a hair flick. Jaime has never known any girl to be afraid of horses, especially not noble girls; he has vague memories of a young Cersei escaping their mother’s clutches and parading herself around on a grey mare until Tywin could catch her. But by now, he has figured out that you are by no means a normal girl. There is something underneath the surface that no-one is willing to address, and he dares not bring it up further.

He sends you letters, however brief, and little gifts, and you begin to reply back to him, for it is only polite for a lady to thank her benefactors. Until, eventually, you begin sending him real substance: things you draw, the latest gossip and, his personal favourite, recounting the tall tales you overhear from Tyrion, and asking which words are the ‘bad ones’. He sometimes forgets you are so naive, though he hates to say it. When you write to him, you sound so normal, like any other little lady, perhaps even better. He can feel your emotions flow through your writing in a way no other lady ever could. Jaime keeps every single one of your letters hidden away from Cersei, but there is no real reason to. By this point, Cersei is a mother, and a fed up queen, she has no care for her shy, smaller sister away in Casterly Rock. 

And then, Robert dies. The whores, and the boars, get to him, but at least he dies happy, that is more than could be said for most men. Joffrey is a tyrant in the making, Ned Stark is executed publicly, and Tywin is named, for the second time, as Hand of the King. 

You are ill the days after your arrival into King’s Landing. A change in the air, Tywin says, not that Jaime is inclined to believe him. He knows you are sensitive, and assumes that, once you settle in a little, you’ll go back to the little girl he knows in his letters. 

What he forgets, of course, is that little girls grow up into little women. When he properly sees you, for the first time in what must be a decade, you are about as un-Lannister as he can imagine. Still in silver, sitting by the fountain, quietly brushing your dog’s fur. Your Septa takes her leave when she sees him coming,

“You’ve grown up.” 

“Did you expect me not to?”

Not the response he was expecting, but more Lannister than your appearance. All lions are sarcastic, literal. At least some part of you is tied to that. He isn’t quite sure what he wants- Perhaps you run to him like Cersei would, to jump into his arms and kiss him fondly and sweetly, as he’s seen you do to Tywin. Perhaps he is jealous of how your father treats you, or, more likely, he is upset that you love Tywin more than you do him. Jaime tries, he tries very hard, and it is you who limits him. He lets you be after some short questioning, called up to Cersei.

As your weeks begin to shift to months, he sees you more and more, from his position at Joffrey’s side. Cersei grows cautious and closed, as the rumours of the boy’s true parentage seep in, as though she expects him to do something about it. You are happy, though, he is sure of it. Tywin buys you new outfits, or you sew them, he isn’t quite sure, and you have that stupid, old dog which he is certain has stayed that age for decades. 

Of course, nothing can be peaceful for long. He goes to the North, to the Riverlands, or wherever his captors take him. He loses a hand, his long hair, and most of his dignity. Cersei falls out with him, Tywin views him as a pity-case, and he isn’t particularly sure where Tyrion has gotten to. 

Jaime’s duties are vague and little, supposedly to aid his recovery following the amputation. He spends much of his time standing there and, as tactfully put by Tyrion, ‘looking pretty’. He doesn’t feel particularly pretty, dressed up in gilded armour. And for once, he understands why you might hate gold.

It is one of these ceremonial days that you bound up to him, bangles up your arm and a new ring on each finger, stroking your way through a bouquet of wildflowers. He has never seen you so confident, or so happy. You plop down beside him, and he looks over, with careful vigilance.

“Where did those come from?”

You look up at him, you smile, and he finds himself growing increasingly confused,

“From Father,” You say it so obviously, as though there is no other possible answer. Jaime cannot imagine the great Tywin Lannister gifting anyone but you a bouquet of flowers, aside from the vague memory of Joanna putting daffodils in his sister’s rooms when they bloomed.

You offer him a single flower, purple; lavender, he thinks. Not uncommon by any means, but not a noble flower. He imagines you would like that sort of thing, simple, and defined. It sways from side to side in the soft breeze, not quite enough to rustle the petals, but enough to make its point known. The two of you sit in contended silence, watching as the occasional servant, or lower lord, rushes past to gain someone’s attention. The two of you are almost invisible to the greater population, he as a living statue, and you as an outsider.

“I’m coming to the Reach with you and Cersei,” You say eventually, glancing up at him from your seat on the steps, “If that’s alright.”

Jaime cannot remember why Cersei wants to visit the Reach, something about a flower festival- Or a wine festival, more likely. He cannot seem to imagine you, his delicate, little, sister enjoying such a thing. 

“Without Father?”

You shrug slightly, lifting yourself up from your step to stand in front of him. Of course, being smaller than him, you have to look up. You are no different to him than a little child in this state, though, most people are.

“If I’m going to be a lady, I have to learn to do things without Father, that’s what Cersei said. I can do things on my own, you know, I’m not a baby.”

He’s never heard you speak so well, so clearly. Perhaps he’s been mistaken in what he’s heard. This is not the shy, small girl he watched grow up. But he has no room to voice it, you continue,

“But Father says I can only come if there’s someone watching me, so I told Ser Meryn he has to stay behind me, and he’s not allowed to do anything for me- Unless I’m too short to reach something, I suppose and-”

Jaime takes you by your shoulders, and you stop. He is amazed, and you, for whatever reason, are exceptionally excited about the Reach. No one is ever excited about the Reach.

“Of course you can come.” He says, almost too quietly, “you can do anything you’d like.”

You emerge from the Reach a month later, rosy-cheeked, whether by wine or the air, covered in flowers, and babbling about something or the other, Tywin calls for him. Jaime sits on the other side of his father’s office, that fat, old dog spread out beside him. 

“She’s never been so happy,” The Old Lion rearranges red and yellow flowers in a pot as his desk. They’re new, he notices, probably a gift from you. “It was good for her.”

And that is all that needs to be said. 

[starlightkun]

➠ 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

[mochilly]

MOCHILLY'S 600+ FOLLOWERS EVENT!

Guysss I can't believe I'm almost reaching 700 followers! Thank you all for the support, you guys are truly amazing. When I started I never thought I would get this many followers, it might not seems much you need to remember that 620 people in single room it's a lot! As I said before in another post it's going to be a birthday event too, since my birthday it's this month, so the themes of each days are going to be related to something about me and whatnot. Thank you all again, and let's check the rules for the event (≧▽≦)!!

Info under the cut!!

︶ ◝ Rules ! . . . . ꩜ 𓂃

01 - This event will start on 10TH and "finish" in 16TH that it's the day of my birthday!! But I will extend it to 20TH so you guys can post late entries if you want.

02 - Use the tag mochilly600+event when posting the entry for the event. Tag me also, it would help a lot.

03 - Follow the day theme!!

04 - The winners will be chosen by a raffle.

05- You can do banners, rentry graphics, icons, moodboards and whatever makes you comfortable!

︶ ◝ Days ! . . . . ꩜ 𓂃

Day 1 (10TH) - Edit a Gyaru or a alternative character.

Day 2 (11TH) - A pink themed edit or a Sanrio character edit.

Day 3 (12TH) - Edit a character you think I would love or hate. (If you already know a character I like or dislike it's okay to edit them.)

Day 4 (13TH) - Edit a character you think match my vibe or aesthetic.

Day 5 (14TH) - Edit a vampire or a angel character.

Day 6 (15TH) - Edit a Sonic character, Pokémon/Pokémon character or Vocaloid character.

Day 7 (16TH my birthday :3) - Free day!!

︶ ◝ PRIZES ! . . . . ꩜ 𓂃

First place: A Tumblr layout with a pinned post "starter pack", basically everything I have in my pinned post + Tumblr layout. Character and theme of your choice.

Example of the quantity, the Tumblr layout: ❄

Example of the quantity, pinned post: ❄

Second place: Tumblr layout without the pinned post starter pack lol. Character and theme of your choice. Example of the quantity: ❄

Third place: Rentry graphics. Character and theme of your choice. Example of the quantity: ❄

Fourth place: Replycons. Character and theme of your choice. Example of the quantity: ❄

Don't be afraid of participating and submitting entry of characters you think I would love for example! I would be really happy seeing you guys perspective, and maybe I can even meet my next favorite media here who knows (≧▽≦)!! If you have any questions you could ask me about it.

Taglist! (dm to be removed or added!!)

@ivaeow @buni-cheri @knife-wielding @shatteredwindoww @ddenryu @infectedrpd @softlovr @crowscarz @yukiexpress @memorymimic @lavendergalactic @pokipng @bandagewastern @frilliette @flwrcide @tirxie @gotta-edit-fast @pink-sugar @drblacula @necroangelz @angelesse @ethereabun @meowrette @hisivan @llocket @miaupii @velaazuretail @vvincian @starryyyyxo @stellaimuse @fwuhs @battampria @kirakuurusu @dxki-sketches @doghearted-canine @3dlove + anyone else who wants to reblog!!

[pinkxpantha]

Kiss Kiss Fall in Love!?

furina x GN!reader

( 🌹 ) — PINK HYACINTH: who can kiss the other the most today? --- thank you @plebejus-argus for submitting the request!!

#: synopsis- furina plots and you follow. How are you in the "It's complicated" stage while being married?!

#: cw- you pronouns, 1.9k. words, arranged marriage, alternate universe (think manhwa nobility), kisses, You're in denial, cue that heracules song, your honor, they may be in love but they're kinda stupid. established relationship. not pr.

“[Name] this is ridiculous.” 

You sighed, “I know.” She's been complaining over this paper for the past three days. With Valentines becoming more popular each year, there's no shortage of valentines themed things.

“Seriously?! Another one!” Furina folds the magazine in her hand over, the news of so many couples scribbled all over another gossip channel.

Which also includes news articles, for whatever reason. “News is supposed to bring information to you!” Your ass. All it's bringing to you is the constant of a pouty partner.

Your wife, Furina, Isn't who you'd call the jealous type. But this..?

“Even Duchess Navia is on here! She's not even pursuing anybody!”

What other word could you use to describe this? 

Furina and you are in an arranged marriage – she certainly wouldn't be your first pick, and you'd probably be one of her last.

The pity of names bearing weight is that as soon as your mother and hers became ‘friends’, you were already packing your bags in anticipation for when she would offer your hand in marriage in your place.

That wasn't abnormal you've had your fair share of “Almost-Wed” because of your mother. But the rumors of Furina de Fontaine were.

“Rejected 200 marriage proposals.” You're pretty sure you heard that once. 

She's been called a brat, whiny, annoying. A multitude of more colorful words as well.

But even as you watched her, amused at her exorbitant reactions, you didn't see the vile labels you could just slap onto her.

“So, what are you going to do about it?” You asked, giving her a sidelong glance as she paused reading at the vanity. 

“Eh?” She echoed, turning to face you. Her hair clipped back with those blue claw clips you remember her obsessing over. You still remember that excited gleam in her eyes as she opened up the package. Seems like it hasn't lost its novelty yet.

“You have a problem with that… gossip channel, right?” You expanded, setting the book you were barely reading to the side. “So, what do you want to do about it?” You watched the gears turn in her head as she thought about your words. Bad sign. 

“Hm…” She rested her chin on her fingers, forming a ‘v’ shape. Then her eyes snapped to yours– then the book you abandoned by your nightstand. She smiled, a corner of her mouth raised higher than the other.

“Ma chérie, how do you feel about going to a tea party tomorrow?” 

“What's with the pet name..?” You sweatdropped. She ignored you.

“It's at some Baroness’ manor. It's perfect-! There'll be enough people so the place won't feel empty, yet too little to be hovered around every corner.. and she's quite the gossip too! Ahaha! I'm certainly a genius!” Furina rambled, her eyes growing wide with her presumably devious intentions.

“Just what are you plotting?” You hesitated to question. Just asking probably meant you were fated to be an accomplice.

“I'm dealing with the gossip articles [Name].” Furina said as though it was obvious. 

“You wouldn't mind helping me out a bit though.. right?” She looked at you, her eyes glittering in the basking candlelight, hues of orange sparkled in those blue depths. 

You tried not to sigh– again. “Yes... Furina, I'll help out.” You'd have to take some responsibility if she made a scene. You don't think you could experience more of a sour and gloomy Furina.

She cheered, her face painted in the warmth of her own ideas. “Thank you [Name]!” Furina chirped joyously. 

At least she wasn't pouting anymore. That's an upside.. right?

Why did you agree to this? Standing outside of the Baroness' Manor you suddenly became face to face with your grievances. 

Furina already detailed you on the “plan”. To amp up the ‘couple’ act. “Even though you were technically married, you didn't act like a couple.” She said something along those lines.

Ugh… it wasn't an expectation between the two of you to be all lovey-dovey with another in private. Honestly, you'd be miserable if you both held no love for another and still faked it. 

At least the neutrality between the two of you managed to grow into something like ‘Friendship’. 

Yet your dear friend failed to mention, this so-called tea party was an actual party.  Immediately standing outside of the manor in its grandeur you recognized the silhouette from the tens of articles about it.

To think Furina simplified it into ‘just a tea party’ is a bold lie.

“psst-! [Name]!” She called out to you in a faint whisper, her heel rested on the bottom rank of the carriage yet she made no move to exit.

The poor driver didn't understand why she wouldn't step down. You rolled your eyes at the realization.

“Furina, my dear.” You gave her your hand, to which she eagerly accepted. 

You leaned forward, in a small bow, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. You didn't look up--for fear her teasing expression would immediately ruin the immersion of the faux romance you were setting.

“[Name], you're too kind!” She stepped down, putting some of her weight onto your hand as she did so. 

You entered the doors to the mansion, pointedly ignoring the confused expression of your carriage escort who definitely heard the two of you bickering during the journey.

You don't doubt you'll see those expressions a lot today.

Furina was dressed well. A flowy and modest sundress with patterns of rainbow roses, and other flowers. You weren't much of an expert in that field– you think there might have been more types, but frankly you didn't care too much to investigate or ask. 

You were dressed to suit her, a similar pattern woven into various accessories you had on. 

You really looked like a couple. You stood to the side as Furina greeted the other guests. She was the more social of you two – and you'd probably forget everyone's name introduced to you by the end of the night.

This role you had to play– quickly became competitive… You'd place a quick kiss on her knuckles, a few minutes later she'd give you a chaste kiss on your cheeks.

This was getting out of hand– you two were being way too obvious with these fake affections. The scoreboard was at 16 to 14, with you being the latter. She took you off guard by kissing you twice-! On your cheek, then right at the connection of your jaw.

How were you supposed to respond? Who knows, you should've expected this–! But you still needed a minute in a powder room to fix the heat fixated on your cheeks. 

No. You needed revenge. You stepped back out into the lively atmosphere of the party. Most guests had migrated to the garden, save for Furina and the group of women she was talking to. 

Perfect. 

You walked up behind Furina, tucking a small piece of hair behind her ear, interrupting whatever she was saying.

You leaned in, pressing a small kiss onto the fold of her ear, covered by your hand cupping the area as though you were whispering to her. 

You pulled away from her, “My apologies for interrupting.” You said to the other women she was discussing with.

You quickly walked off into the garden, without failing to catch a glimpse of Furina's reddened face, and the teasing exclamation of the other noble.

That means the scoreboard is now… 16 to 20. Yes, you do think that kiss was worth 4 points. 

And then reality set in.

Oh my archons, what did I just do? You interrupted a random conversation between them – they could've been talking about some grimm dark subject and you just completely changed the mood..!

I'm sorry Furina. These are the consequences of a war like this.

The embarrassment of what you just did set in– for the next hour you'll avoid anybody in Furina's social circle– which is an all encompassing venn diagram. So, ultimately, you just retreated back inside after ten minutes. 

Either Furina happens to know your thought process too well,  or someone caught you slipping away, because she's walking right beside you.

It's quiet, that's abnormal. Nothing ever really feels quiet with her. But it is, and it's unsettling.

“Sorry.” You say, looking straight ahead. “For that, I mean.” 

Furina pauses, just for a second. You slow before coming to a stop. “You– you don't have to apologize.” The words tumbled out of her lips, like she hesitated putting her thoughts to words.

“Why?” You can't help but ask.

“ “Why?” who responds like that when someone says they don't have to be sorry?” She groaned, her eyes meeting yours again. 

Why did I ask that? You thought for a moment. Why you of all people. Furina stirs up enough gossip and rumors to satiate her hunger for attention just by going to a bakery occasionally. 

This entire idea was immature, and you still went along with it. Why?

“I just realized I like spending time with you.” 

Dumb plans to make dumb rumors is something you'd never do on your own. But with her…

These things feel novel– you'll reap the punishments and embarrassment of these odd stunts, but who could blame you?

With the boundary of romance already wrapped around you and tied into a union, what was the point of pretending to be something less together. 

“I didn't have much more to say, so I just asked what came to mind.” You admitted.

Furina, with her wide blue eyes and character that always left an impression on you, watched you. 

“Well, I didn't mind it– er, I mean. I asked you to play along, anyways.” She clarified, her fist raised to her mouth, shielding her mouth from your view. 

She looked nervous–? No-, genuine would be a better word. You want to see more of that. 

You chuckled,letting your eyes soften. She caught your look– so delicate–! She quickly started walking ahead of you.

“Furina? Where are you going?” 

“You said you wanted to spend time with me right? C'mon.” She said with a huff– you just shrugged as you followed her.

This feeling doesn't feel foreign. Still, you weren't going to name it.

BONUS- lipstick challenge w furina and you

“ Mmh– ‘Rina..” You groaned, your cheeks smooshed by her hands. 

“Almost done..” She said, as she tilted your head up. Pressing another kiss onto the base of your neck. This time leaving a clear mark of shimmery red– her own lipstick staining your skin.

You were leaning against the bathroom sink, with just enough visibility from the back to see your face covered in the marks she left on you in the mirror. Your arms steadied yourself on the sink, awkwardly holding the rim.

She was right in between you, her legs hatched over yours as she leaned in to kiss you again. “Mwwah!” She exaggerated the sound, much to your dismay.

“Are you done now?” You groaned, not looking at her eyes. 

Furina sighed, “But I only got to try one color..” 

You narrowed your eyes. “You shouldn't even have more than one color on you?” 

Furina only pulled her purse into her hands, quickly scooping up five more lipsticks.

“Furina.” You glared. She only laughed, it was light and airy, and unmistakably her.

“Ready for the next one?” 

By the time she's done you'll probably be unable to see your original skin color. You'll get revenge later. Totally.

[cyberweek]

CyberWeek 2024 starts January 21st!

A weeklong celebration of our favorite edutainment program with artistic prompts everyday! The show first premiered on the 21st of January so let’s celebrate!

What sort of Art is allowed?

Any! Traditional/Digital art, Writing, Cosplay, Video edits, anything you can make! Anything you wanna make! Sew a doll, bake a cake, whatever! Sadly, prompts aren’t made with all types of art in mind, so feel free to interpret them however you want to fit your medium!

Rules! [New!]*

*Prompts are posted early this year, and I ask that you withhold from posting your entries until the day of! You may however start and finish them whenever you want!

Tag your post with #cyberweek2024! Or @ this blog! Or both!

Follow this blog and support your fellow Cyberchase fans!

No Lewd. No P*dophilia or inc*st.

No Tracing, Use of Bases or other assets without COMPLETE transparency. Credit your sources! Pinterest, WeHeartIt, Google etc are not sources. Find the artist, please.

*Use of AI is discouraged. Whether you submit only what the AI produces or use it as reference/inspiration. This includes both visual and text AI.

Angst, light gore/blood and etc are allowed. Try to keep it PG13. Everything will be tagged accordingly so remember to use Tumblr’s tag filter feature to your advantage.

OCs should only show up on the OC prompt if available.

Prompts

Jan 21 - Redraw

This year we start off right on the Anniversary! So, we'll do a redraw, and leave that up to how you, the artist, want to go about this! You can either redraw an old Cyberchase piece of yours or redraw a scene from the show itself! [Keep rules in mind!]

Jan 22 - Science

Cyberspace is FULL of science, even if it's sometimes entirely fictional and fantastical. Do you have a favorite scientific genius? Or is there a machine you think is really cool? Some sort of technology you wish you could have for real? It's time to blind us... with science!!

Jan 23 - Magic

Cyberspace may be full to the brim with science, but there are many things that simply unexplainable except by the total opposite of the spectrum... Magic! Who Biddi-Boppidi-does it best? Got a favorite magic spell? Maybe the real magic was the friends we made along the way.

Jan 24 - Summer

Last year we had the prompt "Winter," so let's flip that and have fun with a summer theme! It's time for some fun in the sun, a trip to the beach, a cute summer fit, a picnic, a hike, and so much more!

Jan 25 - Crossover

What is this, a crossover episode?? Yes! And you're in charge!! What characters do you want to see interact? Who do you want to see come to Cyberspace? Or who from Cyberspace do you want to see go where? When? Why?? Go nuts!! AAA

Jan 26 - Enemy

All right, we've had OTP, Friendship, and Family as a prompt! Once again it's time to completely flip the script with Enemy! Will you draw Team Hacker? Another baddie? The main goodies vs the main baddies? Or maybe two characters who just do not get along!! Remember to keep it civil and keep it fun, please!

Jan 27 - OCs

To close out our celebration of Cyberweek, let's have some fun with the little characters we've made up for fun! 😊

Questions/Comments -

Please send all questions about this event to the inbox. Anon will be off and questions will be posted in case others have similar inquiry. Please do not reply to posts or try to chat your inquirers.

[hellfirenacht]

Reader ==> Move Into Benny's

START HERE <<-- FIRST CHAPTER HERE

Recommended Previous Chapter: ==> Go Shopping for 80's Clothes

Chapter Summary: You stop squatting in Mike's basement and start squatting somewhere else.

Tags: themes of homelessness, no canon characters appear

A/N: Short filler installment just to give context for future chapters.

Reader ==> Move into Benny’s

There shouldn’t be any power in the old diner and yet the lights and water worked. There was no heating or a/c, but homeless beggars couldn’t be homeless choosers. It would be a good enough temporary stay until you could figure out how to get a job and find another place to live.

The Hopper’s cabin had been the first suggestion offered by Mike, but that was quick to be shot down. There had been a large hole ripped out of the roof and there was no way to comfortably live there. Not that Benny’s was comfortable, but it was better than nothing. There was at least a kitchen, and it was clear that this place was already being used as a place to party by sports teams.

It smelled bad, like stale alcohol, parties, and teenage hangovers. It’d be safe for the weekdays at least, you assumed that any parties here would be on Friday and Saturday nights. So from Sunday afternoon to Friday morning this was going to be your new home for a while.

School started for the kids three days ago, and you had spent those three days cleaning up old beer cans and trash in the diner, cleaning the toilet, and setting up an old futon that you refused to think about what had happened on it during these wild underage parties. You made a mental note to strip the sheets every time you left to squat somewhere else.

The price of rent here was cleaning up after whatever team was going to trash the place over the weekend, which seemed more reasonable than what you had been paying for your own place before you’d shown up here.

The first few nights at Benny’s were rough. It smelled bad, and was too warm, and too creepy. It was the second night that you remembered that Benny was a real person and who had been brutally killed in this very diner.

No one would know how hard you cried that night, or any night after.

But if you were going to be living in a dead man's abandoned diner, you would at least try and treat it with more respect than the Basketball team. The kitchen didn’t really work, but you could at least hide some dry goods away where no one would find them. The party had managed to sneak you some of their families cleaning supplies, but overall you were on your own making the place habitable.

You wish.

The fryers didn’t work, and neither did the shake machine that you had spent an afternoon cleaning out because of the smell. Even if they did work, you weren’t too keen on putting them to the test. That didn’t stop you from craving the comfort food that an old fashioned diner like this would provide.

Some nights, when the stress became too much and you couldn’t sleep, you pretended that Benny’s was still in business. You’d go to one of the booths and look over the menu and just try and keep calm. Sometimes you found yourself having imaginary conversations with an imaginary waitress, or imagining what other patrons would be like sitting here.

Without the distraction of the internet or tv or even books things got boring very quickly.

After the last bag of trash was hauled off to some other business’s dumpster in the middle of the night, you were left with not much else to do.

-----

Tumblr User ==> Leave A Prompt

I'll be posting another installment in the next few days.

RULES

-I’m not writing in a liner way

- Current timeline I’m wanting to write is between August-December 1985. We will get to ‘86 later

-You can suggest reader do anything, there is no guarantee that I will pick your prompt!

-Prompts must be submitted through ask, as “READER => Do something” If you know, you know.

-Reader is a weirdo, a freak, and is not shy or popular. Reader probably has really bad ADHD.

-If I need to add more rules I will, if I change rules that’s allowed because it’s my fic.

-This fic is officially named “That Time I was Transported into a Netflix Show And Joined A D&D Club” but I’ll be tagging it as “Isekai Chronicles” for simplicity

[kisames-corner]

FAQ – 👻KisaWeen 2024👻

What is KisaWeen? KisaWeen is a Halloween themed event that's centered around Kisame :) Just like how Kisame Week is, we post prompts, and you create something based off that prompt. That could be absolutely anything you can think of. Maybe a gif set, a headcanon list, a one-shot, a multi-chap, a drawing, really the sky's the limit.

How do I participate? Check out this guide for how to participate.

Do we accept submissions which use AI? We here at Kisame's Corner do not tolerate AI art/fic of any kind. Basically, if you use an AI bot to create your art and/or your fic this is not elidable to be submitted. Using AI for ideas is okay, however your creations must be your own. Reposts are okay so long as you have the explicit permission of the original poster. Since it is nearly impossible to get explicit permission from the original artists whose art is fed into AI bots, and original fic writers who've had their stories scraped, we have decided that all AI work is prohibited. We repeat, all creations must be your own or you must have explicit permission to post them.

Is there a limit to how many prompts I can do? Nope! You can do all or just one, two in one day, whichever! If you want to combine prompts be our guest! The only rule is that if you combine prompts, they have to be for the same day. We want to make sure the specified content gets the spotlight. Doing a multi-chap or something like it for the whole week as one cohesive story is okay too!

How many prompts will there be? 6 this time! We will be hosting three per day for the last weekend of October. Since we started so late 😅

How should I interpret the prompts? Any way you'd like! The prompts are to spark inspiration, so go wild! Just make sure that Kisame is at the center of them!

Are prompts going to be ship based? They are not going to be ship based. It's more along the lines of an idea like a word or a phrase or a scenario, and you create content based on that. If you want to write a non-romantic Kisame-centric piece, that is totally welcome!

What pairings are welcome? All ships including Kisame are welcome! As long as the characters in question are of age, everything is accepted as a ship. This includes non ships, × Reader, × OC ships, and childhood aus as well. If you want to keep it platonic, that's okay too! Just remember that if someone doesn't share the same idea as you, it's okay to take a breath and move on.

Is there a word limit for fics? Not at all!! Write as little or as much as you'd like for any of the prompts!

How dark can the content be? As long as everything is tagged correctly and the rating is appropriate, as dark as you want. We don't want to put very much limitation as to how much freedom creators can have. Whatever you feel comfortable making is fine for us:)

Can I submit art and fic? Of course you can! You can do the same prompt with art and fic, you can do one prompt with art and the other with fic, or you can do either or and switch off. There are no limitations for how much you'd like to contribute.

I didn't get to vote for the prompts. What happened? KisaWeen gets its prompts usually from the server members at Kisame's Corner. However, this year, we took a vote from the prompts that weren't picked in 2020 and 2021 when we first did KisaWeen. Long story short, prompts were picked by sharkfam in the 'cord (is that real slang or am i making that up)

I saw something about a Discord Link but I can't find it. Where can I find it? Right here!

Are you accepting late entries? Yes we are up until the end of the rest of November! Feel free to post your stuff by then :) (but also if you take longer we don't mind )

Have additional questions? Don't hesitate to ask!

[feedthepheasants]

Writing Interview Tag Game!! eeeeee!!!!

thank you thank you thank you for the tags @dr-demi-bee & @mothermoth92 !! ♥♥♥

When did you start writing?

I feel so silly saying I've always been a writer. As a kid, I loved telling stories and creating/performing as characters in a variety of facets. I remember in elementary school (foggy on what grade), I had a creative writing project where we had to write a short story based on a picture. My mom got a call home two weeks later when I hadn't turned it in - I just couldn't stop writing.

When I got into middle school and found ~the boundless wonders & horrors of unrestricted internet access~ I started writing even more - one shots, fanfics, short stories, play scripts, the beginnings of would-be novels. And I still have my first laptop, with all of that stuff still on it! I just can't remember my password. :')

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

Absolutely!

As a reader, my top genres are fantasy/adventure, historical fiction and classics. That said, I enjoy romance/romantasy, sci-fi, mystery/thriller memoirs and contemporary novels more and more as I get older! But my first love has always been fantasy/adventure. One of my more unconventional tastes as a reader, however, are dissertations and research papers/articles on historical topics, and pre 13th-century plays/fables/short stories/poems!

My writing (especially in recent years) has primarily been in the fantasy/adventure genre. I've dabbled in others, mostly contemporary/romance stories and playwrighting, but I feel most comfortable in fantasy/adventure by a long run.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

I think to be compared to any prolific writer would genuinely be an honor I would carry with me to my grave!

As a fantasy writer, I have taken many notes on GRRM's writing and world-building and applied it towards developing my own voice as a writer. Erin Morgenstern and Pierce Brown are two writers I would add to my 'aspire to be' list, though I have so many and it's so hard to choose!

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

I write wherever and whenever I can.

Most of the time, that's my couch or my bed, but it's also been my work office, the car, my gate at the airport, the bathroom at a party, a creaky kitchen table at a pet/house-sitting gig..

However, my favorite place is definitely my couch with my autumn-scented candles, plethora of blankets, and my cushy headphones playing my 26 hour film score playlist. Add some fuzzy socks and Ghibli films on my TV and nobody will see me for a week. Bonus points if it's raining outside!

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Again, sounding silly here, but you know that one William Blake poem? "To see a world in a grain of sand / and heaven in a wildflower / hold infinity in the palm of your hand / and eternity in an hour" ? That's how I feel about mustering a muse.

Literally anything can spark an idea for me, be it a plot, a character, or a moment in a story. It's very important to me to write what I know, and to write about the world and people around me, so I base a lot of my characters and their backgrounds/stories around the experiences of myself and the people in my life - the close and the distant, the old and the new. Even a breeze can send me into a flurry that won't rest until I write whatever I'm thinking down, which is why I keep a mini notebook and my notes app accessible at all times!

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

Most of the time, I find myself writing about characters who don't feel like they belong in one place. They're split between something; a decision, two people, two paths their lives could go down. In fact, the novel I've been working on and intend to submit for publishing in the near future is just that: the two primary characters are based off of myself, split in two. And boy has that been a rollercoaster ride!

Other general themes that have made their way into most of my writing are complex familial relationships, growing up (because we never really stop!), people coming and going in life, and the idea that you can never go back, no matter how much you try. Also, always the 'what could've been' of every choice. I think reflecting upon life-isms is one of my favorites, because it's something you see in literature through history and connects us with those who came before - again, realizing we're not alone.

What is your reason for writing?

Writing has always been an escape for me, and it was, for a very long time, the only thing I had that was ever mine.

Performative is a great word to describe my upbringing. Not going into too much detail, I often felt very 'on display' at family functions and other social gatherings when I felt uncomfortable or uneasy performing (I was an instrumentalist for 17 years, and was always forced 'asked' to entertain at functions). It had been a beloved hobby of mine, but I grew to resent it because of how often it was used against me.

So, when I got my first computer and began writing and posting stories, I didn't tell a single soul from my personal life. Especially not when I gained traction on the websites my writing was posted on, nor when I had earned a significant following. For years, the only people who knew were the internet friends I'd made through writing. Even now, there are only a handful of people in my outside life circles that know I write, and even fewer have ever actually read any of my creative writing. I think I still have a fear of losing something very dear to me. I like the anonymity - there's less pressure to exceed expectations, and there's fewer eyes to watch you fall.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

Receiving comments in general is extremely motivating. I rarely share my work with people in my outside life circles, so I mostly rely on feedback/interactions with friends/readers online. Honestly, just knowing that people enjoy the work I produce means the world, whether it's through a like/kudos, reblog, or anything.

What really makes me crazy (in a good way!) is when people do character analysis or relation to my work. It's very rewarding (and quite frankly, very healing) to see when others identify with the experiences, thoughts or feelings that I write about. I tend to spiral and feel very isolated during difficult periods of life, and the reminder that I'm not the only one is very comforting.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

I want to be someone who, when I post a project, at least one person is excited to read what I've created. I've been in a lot of rooms where I've felt like what I feel or have to say doesn't mean anything, so I think the idea of reaching one person who does want to hear/read what I have to say would absolutely rock my world.

What I don't want is to be the kind of writer where readers can't engage critically with what I've created. I think both positive and critical feedback are essential to me as an artist. If I write something that just isn't great, needs work, has plot holes or doesn't make sense for how I've led a character's development thus far, constructive feedback is more than welcomed. As I get older, I get better and better at separating my art from myself, which makes taking criticism easier, and makes me more receptive to making the necessary changes.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

It's been a controversial topic in the past, but I love creating flawed people who make mistakes. That's just a part of life - everyone does things they wish they could take back, things they regret, words they wish they'd never said. I put a lot of that into my characters (with original works predominantly) because I think it makes them more relatable. Nothing irks me more than when a main character always makes the dutiful choice, the sacrifice, and does everything right.

I LOVE when a character fails! I LOVE when they make a mistake, and lose a battle. It means they learn something. I LOVE when a character trusts, and is so egregiously betrayed that I'm doubled over on the floor, heaving for breath and about to be physically sick because I cannot believe what just happened (looking at you, Red Rising). Because I have a lot of my own regrets, I try to find closure through writing. It doesn't always work, but it helps.

When you write, are you influenced by what others enjoy might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

I try to write a little bit of both. I want to write things that are personal and meaningful to me, but I also want to write things that people can relate to.

In regards to my novel-in-progress, I've taken a story that I really want to tell, and have polled so many readers and read so many forums and threads about what readers want and don't want in the older-y/a fantasy/adventure range, and have been adapting characters and plotlines to meet those. (For example: I love the heightened stakes of war and political drama, I love heavy lore and world building, I love devasting romance, and I also love smut. Still haven't found a book that hits the mark with all of these!)

How do you feel about your own writing?

Yikes!

I don't by any means think I'm a bad writer. All artists get self-conscious and doubt their work at times - I tend to do that more often than not, especially when I post something for people to read and react to. I definitely think I have a lot of room to grow, but I also recognize that I have come very far.

I also recognize, that I have strengths when it comes to writing styles, and I 100% have weaknesses. Unfortunately, my current fic is written in first person present tense - why, god why, did I do this to myself? I hate it! I love the character, the story is very close and personal to me, but the longer it's gone on, the harder it has been to push through - though there has been progress recently! After this, however, I'll stick to third person or narrative '_ x reader', because it's what I feel most comfortable with.

The biggest thing is that I enjoy the stories that I want to tell, but I'm so indecisive about how I want to tell them. Sometimes, none of the words feel right, and other times, all of the words feel right and I can't make a decision because they all feel different even when they mean the same thing!

As always, no pressure tagging @crimson-and-lavender , @waterdeep-weavemoss and @honeybee-bard !

[toastling]

I'm contemplating something of an experiment. Aside from Red Rocket, I have one other idea for a Pokemon game/story that's a lot less developed in my head, which I've named Shimmer. Rather than pursue it myself as *another* theoretical fangame or flesh it out alone though, I thought, what if I did something new and engage with the Pokemon community?

Here is Shimmer's premise: A sudden deluge of strangely colored Pokemon have recently appeared on the black market. While these so-called "shiny" Pokemon are nothing unheard of, the specific color palettes being described are, and there seem to be several variations for even individual species. These oddly colored Pokemon also seem to display some odd behavioral patterns, and are occurring at a rate far exceeding anything that could ever be considered to be natural. What exactly is going on to create so many oddly colored Pokemon, and who are the mysterious Team Prism that seem to be selling these odd Pokemon at inflated prices?

The way it would work is that through both AO3 comments and a dedicated tumblr blog, people can both submit prompts of their own or respond to prompts within the story and make choices to determine how the story would progress and characters would develop - within reason, of course. I'm ultimately going to choose whatever I can use to make a coherent story and character arcs, but that might not be as linear and logical as you might first assume.

Before I even begin writing and sharing the story through AO3, there would be a period of information collection through that dedicated blog where certain details will be ironed out via questions asked to my potential readers. Traits regarding major characters such as their names, interests, regional themes, Pokemon nicknames, and various other tidbits like that. Then once I've got enough starting data I'd start writing the story proper.

I've never written a fic like this before, nor have I seen one done before - emphasis on fic, of course. We all remember how Homestuck began. So this would be an experimental format for everybody I think, especially me. I normally avoid prompts like the plague since I'm very particular about only writing things I like or want to write. But! I think this might be a fun little exercise, and an interesting way to tell a Pokemon story that everyone can sort of live vicariously through, like a personalized game every player gets a say in.

If any of this sounds interesting to you, let me know in the poll above and I'll decide whether or not to really put the energy behind doing this!

[canaidliafail]

untitled

streamer ellie Williams x dancer reader 🌿

Id call this an excessively long shitpost. It is in the same timeline with staygrounded but I wrote it down for self indulgent reasons such as -to no ones surprise- venting. It ain’t good btw but its getting better I think.

CW: first of all, reader is a dancer/ dance teacher || short mention of self harm || MDI: there are sexual themes if I remember correctly || Ellie being very gay

If you by any chance do enjoy this concept I don’t mind writing a part 2 tho. Requests are open ✨

“you blame it on the drugs I dont give a fuck cause the damage is done,

and you talk about suicide, its the way you manipulate”

1:35 ───ㅇ───── 3:47 ↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

gossip, rumors, spreading a false narrative and falling in love with being a victim of life and most importantly a victim of you.

So many things that could have been said about her. So many and yet all sat stale at the tip of your tongue. You wanted to rip her to shreds, put a curse on her and considered spending life in prison for premeditated murder. Then you cried and just prayed she would leave you alone and that she would find happiness and that you would never hear anything about it. You scratched your arms, the stitches holding your flesh together getting irritably itchier day by day. flesh that you so willingly sliced a week ago and regretted right after.

It was fucking embarrassing to fall to such depths of despair and misery cause of love. In life we allow things to happen to us. Saying that was comfort of some sorts. It gave you control over a situation that you were dragged around like a puppet.

Could truly another person's venom poison you this irreversibly?

And while you did crave love and attention you refused to humiliate yourself by asking for it,let alone admit to it.

“she didn’t love you, she loved the idea of being with you. You have to realize it baby, You are a known figure now…People will do that to you. This is a whole new world you just entered”

You shook your head and dully stared at the screen playing lo-fi on loop

“New world ? Feels like I'm back in high school”

You sat on the other end of the couch numb and mute. It had been a week since you spoke to your roommate and two since you last saw your whole friend group. You warned them

“I can’t talk but I really need you”

and they came and would chime in to whatever little but you were willing to share that night.

You all woke up around the same time the next day, exam season not really willing to cooperate with your mental breakdown and started getting ready. You had already failed 2 subjects. shit was not going your way so on the fourth day you just gave up and decided to go with the flow

“how bad can it get”

bit of advice fellas, never fucking say that cause it CAN get worse.

While initially you were well prepared for exams, You mixed up the days when you were supposed to submit assignments and the days when you were taking a written exam.

2 failed subjects, 4 more to go.

4 failed subjects… 2 more to go

Hot girl summer just doesn’t feel the same once you hit your 20s it seems.

_________________ 𓆩♡𓆪 _________________

You were aimlessly watching one story after the other,barely there and hardly caring what exactly you were looking at. Abby had just posted one cryptic photo with a girl you saw around in the community and smiled. You could tell something was going on with her and that other streamer girl and you smiled. You thought they were a good match and quite frankly you were just glad to see that some people were doing better in their love life than you ever could. It gave you hope that things like that still existed even if you weren't meant to experience them. Ellie had also just posted and you took a minute longer to appreciate her slender form dressed in tights and a top while horse riding. She was hot and she knew it and you liked that attitude of hers. You checked the next story which was a black screen with a text

*I fell off my horse two minutes after taking that pic*

And chuckled. Your eyes drifted off to the green square mark and cocked a brow

Oh?

So you were in her close friends ?

You sat up

“Wait since when has she-” You asked yourself out loud and noticed that indeed she was following you. In the midst of working on new content and getting out of your depressive slump you started checking your social less and less too busy with dance practice and trying to enjoy life and it seemed like in the middle of your subtle break things…. Happened

Maybe a few months ago when you were down bad for her this would’ve affected you but now you just shrugged and closed your phone. You need to get back to practicing a new dance combo for a video and you couldn’t be bothered. Your ex had scared you off from dating public figures for good. Dating was a strong word…You hardly wanted even a fling at this point.

You got dressed up and put on a wig, fixing your makeup in place and making a movement test before you went to the studio to record the new choreo so that you could only worry about the variation and not have any unnecessary technical issues. The studio was a few minutes away from your place by bus and you put on the songs you planned on rehearsing to get in the mood on your way there humming softly and tuning out any other thought polluting your mind.

There's was a text notification from the user

Elliefuckingwilliams

Which you forced yourself to ignore refusing to entertain whatever she could have texted you. If this was a month ago maybe you would have but now you didnt want to.

_________________ 𓆩♡𓆪 _________________

Ignoring her was your plan until you posted the new video of your dance which admittedly you did look good and may have been one of your best videos up to date. Ellie Was the third like on that post and she had shamelessly double texted you. You chewed on your lip nervous and uncertain

“She texted me again”

Ophelia, your roommate, peeked her head from her iPad and looked at you curious

“Who?”

“Ellie”

“ELLIE?! WAIT THE ELLIE?!” She jumped up and for a moment you for sure she came for your throat but instead clutched the blankets on your couch

“And what do you mean again ?! When did all of this happen ?”

“Relax it all started today and you know I wanted to tell you once we had time to properly hang out” You said fighting back a smile knowing that this was a victory. Ophelia had suffered you for months crying over your ex, then thirsting over Ellie and then back to square one. You owed her an update on your emotional affairs which you swore that they would stay stagnant.

“So what did she say ?”

You opened the Direct messages

Elliefuckingwilliams: Hey I have a question

Elliefuckingwilliams: Is your studio in Seattle ?

Elliefuckingwilliams: I have a project and am looking for a dance instructor. Let me know if you would be interested in a collab

“Ah. Just work stuff it seems”

“EXCUSES SHE JUST WANTS TO EAT YOU OUT AND IS LOOKING FOR A EXCUSE”

“You are shameless”

You stared at each other with a smirk fighting to break through, wanting to seem equally serious despite the ridiculous situation.

“She does not”

“She does. I’m betting 50 dollars”

Oh fuck off ill just roll you a blunt”

“A WIN IS A WIN” she said with her hands in the air “No come on! Respond already you are driving me crazy”

You rolled your eyes and considered her offer. You were taken aback cause Ellie didn’t seem like she would do anything with…dancing. However you weren’t new to influencers trying new things to get back on the algorithms favor so you brushed it off as her chasing new heights to her already growing fame.

-Hey, I’m not sure where you are exactly and it isn’t my studio. I am just renting the space but I could give you a lesson or two

Elliefuckingwilliams: Sweet! When are you available ? I have a gap next week otherwise it can be next month

You stared at her immediate response and quirked your brow in approval. Professional and straight to the point. You could respect that. Not what you were aiming for. You tried to ignore the previous conversations you two had that showed above her new messages. Your fruitless attempts at getting her attention in the most stupid of ways. Can’t blame a girl for trying. Shoot for the stars they say. You’ll land on dirt but hey, at least you gave it a fair shot and therefore no one could blame you for trying.

-This week is good. Say Friday ?

Elliefuckingwilliams: Yeah yeah cool! I'll text you the day before so that you can tell me your location and everything

You pursed your lips and turned to look at Ophelia who was on all fours on your couch desperately trying to steal a glance at your phone screen. You tossed it on one of the floor cushions

“Not a date. I’m just gonna be her dance instructor so looks like you owe me that blunt”

“Nu-uh. Bet you’ll be raw dogging in the studio. We will see who wins on Friday”

_________________ 𓆩♡𓆪 _________________

“And the dance floor is filling up with blood, But oh, Lord you’ve never been so in love”

ELLIE’s POV

Ellie was convinced that God had specifically hand crafted her body to be incapable of dancing. She had no coordination and perhaps was even tone deaf which was ridiculous for someone who played the guitar and sang. Not that she was a pro at that either but who creates a musician who doesn’t understand how to step on notes in any way other than with an instrument ? So now that she had texted you she was frantic, bouncing her leg up and down and chewing on the flesh around her fingernails.

“What's gotten into you?”

Dina asked while folding clothes. She was at her and Jesse's apartment for the night and she had yet to tell them about her new crush and her impatient attempt at getting to see you as soon as possible. Ellie was aware of you as a creator. Be it from a post-share on her friends stories or you falling on her timeline she would see you here and there. She vividly remembered a month where you peaked and she went from seeing you once every two months at best to seeing you every week. And she was curious as to why was everyone going crazy over you and your content. You seemed to interact mostly with Abby’s girl.

That’s how Ellie referred to the girl Abby seemed to be crushing on. In a game of broken telephone and who told what, Ellie planned on seeing how close Abby was with her girl and if that was close enough for her to ask if she could…well ask her about you and then somehow for that information to get back to you.

But all that plan failed the second Ellie asked

“So is Cotton dating anyone?”

And Abby took that horribly wrong and now was set on gatekeeping her. Ellie was awkward and a mess and couldn’t communicate properly what she wanted because to her, what she asked was obvious and had no hidden meaning or intention but the world around her didn’t work like that and she struggled so fucking hard with it.

Ellie’s second grant failure was when she followed you back. She was sure that you wouldn’t have missed it. But the silence was so loud it was deafening. You were still posting but you were otherwise quiet everywhere else. You rarely even watched her stories at this point so Ellie decided to grow a backbone and some balls and directly message you.

She flinched at the dry responses she gave you to your previous interactions which back then seemed professional but now they seemed…So distant.

Finally, she texted you.

and you responded.

“Dina I did a stupid thing”

Dina tossed the clothes in the wardrobe and kicked close giving up on tidying Jesse’s shit

“Ok, stupid how? Like speaking money or-”

“I texted my crush-”

“You have a crush?”

“Yes and so I texted her and-”

“Who is she ?”

“A content creator, anyways so I texted her”

“WHo?”

“Dina can you let me talk?!” she said frustrated and Dina grinned. She went to the kitchen aisle to grab a bottle of water and tossed another one Ellie’s way. She leaned against the counter listening to her friend endless yawping about this new crush. she called her twice a day until Friday, and would recite every move and gesture she planned on using to seduce you. Dina would turn each one down by saying

“You do realize that when you see her you will just shit your pants from excitement and won't say anything right?”

So ellie would hang up and call a few hours later with a new plan that aligned more with how she typically acted.

When Friday came she showered twice and changed outfits over and over again, as a result she was late. She was proud of her fit since the sleeveless turtleneck did a nice job at hugging her slim, well built frame and showed off her toned arms that took years of calisthenics to build and paired with a baggy pair of sweatpants she felt like she had the biggest dick in the city.

But once she parked outside of the studio you mentioned cold sweat ran down her spine and her hands felt clammy and sticky from anxiety.

what the hell am I doing

she questioned and rested her head against the steering wheel. She drummed her fingers on the soft leather and hummed a melody to ease her nerves till she heard light tapping on the window. She lifted her head and looked up and there you were. hair loose, shorts and a baggy graphic T that had a faded graffiti-like artwork of spiderman.

She hated how much she loved the sight in front of her.

she opened her door and slid out trying to gather her stuff in a hurry

“Hi sorry, were you waiting long? I missed the bus and had to wait a bit until the next one came…”

“no no! Its cool I was just, ugh trying to calm down cause I'm nervous”

you smiled and lowered your brows in empathy

“I assumed you would. You don't have experience in dancing right? Or at least you haven’t mentioned it anywhere”

She winced at how obvious her lie was and she didn’t know how to answer to that

I don’t dance but If that’s what it takes to fuck you then sure I can learn how to do a Ronde de Jambe

“ah yeah you got me there, I’ve never danced before”

“That’s cool with me. Just curious on what piqued your interest to start now. New hobby or…?”

“yeah new hobby!” she hurried to answer, glad that you inspired her on what lie to use for the day.

You nodded while checking her out head to toe and before she had time to boost her ego and assume that you did because you found her hot you said-

“Hm. I will need you to wear tighter pants next time so that I can see what you are doing with your legs. But for today it's fine”

and took the keys out of your duffel bag

“Well. Ellie williams. Ready to start?”

“ah yeah just, be gentle…? I've never done anything remotely close to dancing with my body and I might be pretty stiff”

“Don’t worry about it. I've had every type of student and all of them managed to pull a few cool moves in their second month. If there’s a will there’s a way”

she smiled more nervous than before. You were formal and professional leaving little close to no space for her to get flirty and she was at a loss. She should’ve done more research on dancer etiquette so that she wouldn’t have looked like such an uneducated swine but there was no point in getting angry over that now.

“We will start with basic breathing exercises and a warm up just to get you in the swing of things. We will start with body isolations”

Ellie stared at you from the mirror as you showed her the first few basic motions

“Alright so for the warmup just follow my lead”

you grabbed the remote and put on “never ending song” by Conan Grey which had a pretty standard rhythm and was easy to dance along to. Ellie was in awe with the plasticity of your body, every move being a continuation of the previous one all like a rolling tide of emotions complimenting the beat and the beat complimenting you.

On the other end, Ellie was too embarrassed to look at her own reflection

“alright so first to isolate your hips from your chest” you said and let the next song play. You laid your palm flat on her back and pointed a bit below her collarbones holding your fist in the air

“move with me, breathe in” you said and she tried to copy your move watching your chest rise. You shook your head

“no, I need only your chest to move. Relax your shoulders love” you teased with an easy smile and Ellie by now was a mess, from the proximity and from the simple exercise of trying to move your breathing pattern

You were oblivious to it all going from one body part to another occasionally fixing up her posture and tapping the part that she had to focus on, but all hell broke loose in your brain when you laid your hand on her stomach asking her to clench and unclench her core hunching within herself.

“You were so dramatic before, look at you Els. You just needed a little basic guidance “ you encouraged and she smiled and looked at you in excitement, oblivious to the fact that when she turned her head she was a breath away from accidentally kissing you

“ah! I-“

you smirked and pulled away

“I've been rehearsing this one choreo, best way to understand these exercises is through a dance routine. How do you feel about that?”

Ellie agreed and while dancing she kept being thrown off balance at the sharp turns that she had to take which in return slowed her down and she would miss a few steps. You let the music play in the background and let out an awkward chuckle

“Fuck ok this is my fault see I forgot to tell you about spotting”

“Spotting?”

You nodded and you pushed her back by her shoulder freeing up a line for you

“See when we turn, we always have a spot” You said and stepped into the appropriate preparation to do 8 simple turns, your head always snapping the back to the invisible mark you held with your eyes

Ellie pursed her lips. Seemed like such an obvious trick but one that went completely over her head

“Now I see that you struggle to look at yourself in the mirror, Which is fine. I’m sure you'll get used to it eventually, so instead try taking a few turns while holding eye contact with me, yeah ?”

You offered and she took a couple steps back

“Ugh…what were all those moves you made before spinning?”

“Oh don’t worry about that,thats ballet stuff. Just spin. Bent your elbows and hold your arms against your chest if it helps”

Ellie started off slow, picking up the pace as she neared you, eventually losing sight of what was in front of her

“Wow-wow-wowwww I got you” you said and steadied her by her shoulders and held her in place. She looked up at you taking in deep breaths, cheeks flushed and eyes wide open with her lips parted in a soft smile

“That went well, How do you feel?”

You said and you gently rubbed your thumb against the naked skin of her biceps.

“Great, I… I liked this it makes more sense now”

She said filled with excitement

_________________ 𓆩♡𓆪 _________________

Every time Ellie liked your story you felt your heart skip a few beats. You were in the studio for your solo dancing practice and kept bouncing from one leg to the other to keep your muscles warm while you scrolled through your phone to find some inspiration or a pic that you could post and in return give Ellie an opening to respond to. The image of her timidly trying to follow along through your every move, her flushed cheeks and her voice shaking did things to your brain chemistry, re-wiring its entire structure and flow. Every time she posted a story with a smug smile and pants lower than her boxer briefs you just laughed remembering what a shy and soft mess of words the girl was and felt an unhealthy amount of endearment. A spark re-ignited in your dead heart and you liked it. You liked ellie when you didn’t know her, and you liked her even more now that you did.

By now it had been…a good two weeks that consisted of 4 dance practices that you had with her. The first time you saw her up close all you thought was a “huh”

And then a “she is shorter than me-“ which for you was dangerous. You had an incredibly soft spot for masc lesbians who were shorter than you. Unfortunately they were never attracted to you though. You had always attracted the exact opposite of what you wanted and you blamed that on your overly dominant attitude.

On the second day you both had the same idea of treating each other to a coffee and so you ended up with 4 paper cups of iced almond milk lattes which you laughed about for a good 10 minutes

“We are so in sync!” You commented and she nodded excitedly, blushing all the way to her ears.

On the third dance practice you purposely pretended to assist her and correct her to find an excuse to touch her and when you saw how positively she reacted to it you pushed on the advantage that you had, heavily , which made you believe that maybe there really was some kind of ulterior motive as to why Ellie was so set on having you as a dancing coach.

On the fourth day there was a shift in the tide and something was in the waters. Ellie had her hair gathered and decided to wear the sluttiest outfit on earth ( aka a white top and grey sweatpants )

She went to greet you with a hug and you noticed her perfume, subtle but there to make you lust after it. She asked if she could record the Dance you were rehearsing for a post and you felt alright with that. And she excelled. She was a fast learner and her body had a good flow. It did need polishing but she wasn’t half as bad as she claimed to be. The fifth video take was close to perfection and in her excitement she yanked you towards her and wrapped you in a tight hug which you immediately reciprocated eager for the contact with the sex God standing before you. You took in the blended smell of her perfume and her sweat which had you feel insufferable discomfort with how tight your pants were. Something about her raw scent had you horny like a dog and you had to clench your jaw in patience not to act out of instinct and try to get closer than needed.

You both laughed and she yelled in excitement “I fucking did it”

And then your voice followed, a bit quieter “I told you, you could do it” she pulled back her arm still on your waist, her thumb caressing the skin as she watched the video a second time in excitement. You took the chance to stand a bit closer to her while she in sync wrapped her whole arm around you and leaned her head against your chest enjoying the dance and pointing out things that you could do differently next time, all in the comfort of each other’s embrace.

She posted the video and in the daze of the excitement of seeing what you two looked like next to each other you forgot to worry about the fact that you were yet again getting entangled with a public figure. An actually big one. While your previous relationship was just your ex leeching off of you and your success, this one…it had to be different. Ellie had nothing to gain from you and you put your trust in that and in the fact that the two of you seemed to genuinely get along

You decided to text her first

“You impatient fuck. We could’ve filmed a better take tomorrow”

“You are such an ass, let me enjoy my accomplishments”

You started tidying up the studio and decided to leave your bag with your ballet clothes and pointe there since you would come tomorrow for Ellie’s lessons anyways. You chatted back and forth all the way back and you almost tripped on your staircase too busy typing a response. You banged your head against your door though thinking you had unlocked it to find that you didn’t. Ophelia opened it for you

“Girl?”

You looked at each other and you immediately broke into a smile the split your lips

“Ellie posted our video. And she left in the part where she hugged me”

“Oh-hooooo” she exclaimed and rushed you in. She tossed the mop on the side of the wall and nudged you to the couch abandoning whatever housework she was in the middle of to listen to you

“Aaaand we are still talking” You said smiling and Ophelia clapped cheering for you while you swung your way inside the house and fell dramatically on the couch.

“Oh my, I’m so glad the Gods heard our prayers cause I was sure I was about to send you off to priesthood”

“It wasn’t that bad”

You said with an offended gasp and she scoffed

“Honey, one more month and you were about to grow back your virginity. I’m just happy to see you back out there and not just with anyone but with The Ellie fucking williams!” She said getting louder with every word. You joined her cheerful demeanor hopping on the couch and you both started bouncing on it like kids in a playground

“I can’t believe this. I wanna wear something good for our practice tomorrow”

“Shorts and that nice red bodysuit!”

“But-“

“No buts! I know it’s uncomfortable but she will see you and rip it off right away so how much will you really suffer, you know?”

Ophelia coming through with the obvious answer to any and every world known issue was exactly what you needed to finish off your day. Though to be fair, if there was anything you should have listened to regarding -making a move on your crush- that would have to be her. She had a banging record of pulling every single guy she set her eyes on and one night standing them for her own satisfaction. Of course now she had her sights on someone specific but that didn’t change or erase all previously acquired skills in the flirting department. Despite all of that, You ended up rejecting the bodysuit idea because that would be a hassle to actually get off if things would go anywhere and even if they wouldn't, anything that tight during summer was a nightmare in general.

“Hey can I borrow that white top you have?”

“Borrow whatever you want and do whatever you want just never let me know about it”

_________________ 𓆩♡𓆪 _________________

on the day that you fully planned on making a move a couple things went wrong. First and foremost well, It decided to rain down which meant you had to run all the way from the bus stop to the studio in a hopeless attempt to preserve your hair and outfit. It didn’t do much since you ended up like a drenched cat either way but you refused to let your mood falter.

You tried texting Ellie to ask if she could bring coffee for you two.

Few minutes later she came in with two iced coffees, not a drop of rain on her which you were awfully jealous of. Her cropped hair was once again all gathered in a short ponytail and she wore two sports wristbands around her arms which did unimaginable things to you. It was good sight with her sleeveless baggy tshirt. Ellie just knew how to dress plain and attractive.

“Looking good” she teased when she found you furiously trying to dry the ends of your hair with a towel

“Shut up. Please shut up”

“So sensitive” she said and rolled her eyes making her way to you and taking the towel from your hands

“Let me help” it wasn’t so much of a request as it was a demand when she pulled the towel out of your hands and moved behind you, wrapping your hair in it and squeezing it to get most of the water out. You felt your body temperature rise at the awfully tender gesture and unsure of what to do you just fidgeted with your hands looking at the floor

“ I can drive you back to your place if you want”

“No, it's fine. Ill wait it out”

“No no, I insist. Let me drive you back and look cool while doing so”

A soft chuckle escaped your lips as she rounded you up to give you the towel with a small shy smile, her cheeks a shade of pink now.

Practice was good if you were to ignore that Ellie seemed a lot more focused on your assets rather than the moves you were showing. You knew the biker shorts you were gave her a 4K view of your ass but you didn't expect her to be this obvious about it. You stepped back after a moment and just watched as she rehearsed the dance on her own and you were in awe on how much more comfortable she seemed with her body now

“Good. This one was very good. Want me to film you so that you look at yourself?”

you asked and she shook her head satisfied with the progress. You slouched on the ground, legs spread and ankles on your knees wiping the sweat of your brow carefully as not wipe your brow completely off with it and looked at the time

“Well we are pretty much done then for today. Unless there’s anything you wanted to ask me or anything else you wanna try doing?” you asked and Ellie followed your lead walking over to you across the room and crouching down on her knees in front of you

“Oh yeah I did wanna ask something”

“go ahead then” you said dreading having to get up. You didn’t have to though

“Can I take you out on a date ? for coffee perhaps?”

[ratfuzz]

♡cupid!cartman x imp!reader headcanons⛧

pairing: eric cartman x reader

warnings: suggestive themes

a/n: okay, first of all, it's cupid cartman, not cupid me (sounds weird...), count it as an au where cartman is cupid himself, lol. second of all, imagine cupid cartman as adult human being or i'll crawl out of your wall and stab you with a knife

uhm, anyway, this just came to my mind and i thought it was funny, so here it is. not sure if it could count as headcanons actually, but whatever ig (man i love talking)

i don't know how the hell could you end up like this, but i guess imps can have some type romantic feelings too.

it makes it worse knowing your romantic interest is cupid, a literal god. whatever, deal with it now, hon.

well, it's not the worst it could be y'know, even though eric didn't believe your love at first. don't judge him, he's still a god, he can't just give in to temptation of every imp, okay?

even like this you couldn't leave him alone. distracting from his work (not like he does much🙄 lazy ass) or being a homewrecker only to get some attention from him.

uh oh, i think eric is pissed...unless?

oh, of course he's into brats, who would've thunk that

maybe he didn't fall in love with you, but totally did with your playful disobeying after every time he tried to stop you somehow. that's what made him succumb to you

he's letting you be with him on his work now!! but lord save you from fucking something up.

no, of course he won't try to kill you, of course not, he can't lose such a precious diamond like you, dark entity that fell in love with him and almost submitting to everything he says (almost), this makes him feel so powerful.

but you remember that cupid is coming from greek mythology, right? so yeah, he doesn't resist his sexual desires. sometimes he just acts like you did something wrong that messed up all his work, so he can feel you once more. and now you are going to be messed up. not like you're against it, you need to fulfill your desires too and he's pretty good at it

okay, let's save it all for later, dirty little creature, i have one more thing for you

eric also tried to teach you how to use a bow and for some reason it actually felt so...intimate? and not in a sexual sense. just how his hands held yours guiding them, that felt so sweet, you could even say it felt loving.

maybe he really fell in love with you

a/n: yeah, i think teaching you things eric actually knows how to do is his love language, what are you going to do about it. and, ugh, i need to learn how to put up my thoughts in text normally, but this shit makes me want to cry

[peachymilkandcream]

Break Me Slowly|Part 11|Yandere Levi x Evelyn

(A/N: I know this is coming out later than planned but I didn't have a chance to sit down and write until now, but I hope you enjoy the newest chapter!)

WARNINGS: noncon, dubcon, manipulation, domestic abuse, yandere themes, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, stockholm syndrome, violence, mind breaking, misogyny, etc.

=============================================

Levi continued to scribble on his desk. He refused to look at her, refused to acknowledge her. The silence was utterly uncomfortable, making Evelyn shift from foot to foot. She wanted to defend herself, find something to fill the silence and relieve the tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. Right as she opened her lips to speak he spoke instead, making her jump slightly.

"After all I've done for you..given you a home, food, clothes, affection...you would try to dump me like I'm some kind of trash."

She was determined not to speak, although she had no doubt even from here he could see her lip trembling.

He stands in one motion. "Am I that much of a monster? You're so desperate to escape, I think I have every right to be upset."

Evelyn stares up at him, biting her lip so he couldn't see how terrified she was.

He pauses before backhanding her across the face. "Speak damn you! Why do you do this!? You disobey me again, and again! And then when you face the consequences you shut your mouth and cower, shaking like a leaf! Did you really think Erwin was on your side?" He scoffs. "Who do you think offered to help sell the lie. Your freedom came at the cheap price of my re-enlistment forms."

"Erwin cares about his soldiers..."

"Does he? He only cares about the greater good of humanity. It comes at whatever cost necessary. Yours, mine, even his lives are all just numbers. Statistics. You don't even want to know all the shit he's had me do in order to keep us on track. You're nobody, to anyone. Erwin, Hange, Eren, The Scouts, even that sad-eyed Braun. If any of them gave a damn about you they'd come save you. Don't you get it? No one cares about you, no one loves you." He pauses, taking a moment to run his hand through her hair. "Except me. I care about you...I love you...more than my own life. I would die for you, I would kill for you. You are my everything. You are the spring to my winter."

"If you really loved me you'd let me go, you wouldn't hurt me-"

"That's for your own good love..." He moves his head closer, kissing her neck gently. "I know you're unhappy, being a wife and mother is fulfilling, if you'd just be willing then think about the wonderful life you could have. Just submit already, submit to me.."

Evelyn couldn't stop herself, she turned her head to the side, letting have more access. She didn't want to be in pain. He had cause to beat her within an inch of her life, if just being willing for once would spare her the pain it couldn't be so bad. Just this once, one time pain free. She was just too tired to fight right now, even though she knew she should.

Levi took her slight movement as willingness, trying his best to keep his rush of arousal in check. He had only ever had her forcefully, while part of him enjoyed the fight, he truly just wanted her to submit to him. Sex without struggle was so much more arousing.

Her fingers found the buttons of his shirt, hastily undoing them and exposing his chiselled chest. Something in her just wanted to see if he really was more gentle when she gave in. Or if it was a lie to trick her into thinking the way he wanted her to. He would violate her either way, curiosity and a hint of desperation fuelled her to accept his embraces, accept his lips and tongue attacking her neck. Part of her liked being marked, it meant she was needed, wanted. Someone cared. Levi was a liar, but in this he had made a point, if her apparent friends did care about her, where were they? She only half remembered those words Reiner had said to her, begging her to come with him to a far off land, but he had never returned. He was probably finding a way whisk her away too and do the same thing Levi had done. They were all the same.

Levi pried off her clothes, he was so hungry, so desperate for her. He didn't want to waste a second and have her return to her stubborn ways of fighting him off. He loved her like this, needed her like this, he'd do anything to have it. Drug her, make her drunk out of her mind, give her those aphrodisiacs Petra had suggested, as odd as that was. It didn't matter to him, he just wanted to ride this high for as long as he could.

Against his normal instincts he was gentle, laying her down on his desk and using his discarded shirt to cradle her head. If she was willingly spreading her legs for him, he would uphold his part of the deal and be gentle. Even though everything in him screamed to shove every inch inside her without mercy. He was slow, took his time and let her feel every vein as he sheathed himself inside her.

"See what happens when you behave?" His voice was tender and loving as he started to move, slow and caring, actually giving her time to adjust and take in his length.

She didn't push him away, holding onto his arms to stabilize herself, her breathy moans coming freely and not forced from her clenched teeth. "Faster- please-" Her voice was little more than a whisper, but he heard it. Picking up the pace.

For once in their whole marriage this time it was about her, it was about him rubbing soft circles in her clit making her twitch, and gently flicking her nipple with his tongue. To him it was vanilla and almost boring, but the way it made her come undone so quickly made him not regret it in the least.

Normally she violently fought him off to avoid him finishing inside, begging and pleading with him to cum anywhere else. But this time she pulled him in with her legs, welcomed the hot liquid shooting deep inside her.

In the aftermath Evelyn hated herself for it, hated that she enjoyed it and so much. However she stopped beating herself up when she realized what this would mean, if she could just play along then Levi might let his guard down enough she could really leave. Escape at this point was useless, he could find her and he had allies she didn't even know about. If she pretended to be his housewife eventually he'd allow her more freedom until it was too much and she slipped past him. The moral side of her felt guilty for playing with someone's feelings, but after all he'd done to her morality wasn't something she could worry about right now.

===============================================

Levi was surprised by the sudden and drastic change in Evelyn, she allowed him to do whatever he wanted. She'd spread her legs for him and would act just like a normal wife should. It was suspicious for sure, but with his continued careful watch of her he would just reap the benefits of her change in attitude.

With her change in attitude came her freedom, he brought her out of the house more, allowing her to talk to and interact with others. She seemed to enjoy it, liking the interaction with anyone but him. When they walked through the street, she introduced him as "Her Husband", making his heart swell with pride and joy.

He proudly told Erwin of his feats in taming her, earning slight nods, merely listening in relative silence. When Levi finally finishes his rant, Erwin breaks his silence.

"She's not pregnant is she."

Levi hesitates, trying to get a read on Erwin's intentions. "No, she's not."

"A failure on your part of course."

"If that's how you see it."

"It is." Erwin rearranges things on his desk. "Which brings me to my point." He laces his fingers and rests his elbows on the wood surface, staring Levi down. "It's been some time since Eren has gone missing, so long that now the government is breathing down my neck."

"And what do your problems have to do with me?"

"We've confirmed Eren's somewhere in Marley correct? Your wife was good friends with him when he was still a scout, I want her to bring him back."

Levi scoffs. "Why not just send one of those brats like Mikasa or Armin? They're arguably closer."

"True, but not as mature, plus, my plan is to send her undercover. Posing as a Marleyian soldier."

"And when she gets caught? You just want her to get killed?" He couldn't hide the aggression in his voice.

"Of course not." Erwin pauses again, as if choosing his words carefully. "Your wife also made a connection with the traitor Reiner Braun, if she's caught, she'll have a sympathizer who might spare her life."

Levi stands abruptly. "Like hell I'll allow that." He quickly turns to leave.

"I'm afraid your alternative isn't much better."

He stops and turns. "And that is?"

"I'll expose you publicly for what you've done."

"Tch. And lose your prize Scout? I know a bluff when I hear one."

"At this point Levi, Eren is more useful than even you. If he can trigger even a small scale Rumbling to crush our enemies I won't have need for you ever again."

Levi grits his teeth. "Blackmailing me Erwin, I'm impressed. Didn't know you had the guts." He turns on his heel and rips the door open.

"Is that a deal then?"

"It's a deal alright you bastard." Levi leaves the room, slamming the door so hard behind him books rattle and fall off their shelves.

Erwin finally lets his smirk show itself on his face. "How do you like a taste of your own medicine Levi?"

[fandomanimatic-tournament]

Fandom song animatic tournament: Bracket 2 Side B

What is This Feeling? - Wicked Musical

"What is this feeling? Fervid as a flame Does it have a name? Yes! Loathing Unadulterated loathing For your face Your voice Your clothing Let's just say, I loathe it all!"

There! Right there! (Is [blank] Gay or European?) - Legally Blonde the Musical

"Gay or European? It's hard to guarantee Is he gay or European? Well, hey, don't look at me! You see, they bring their boys up different In those charming foreign ports They play peculiar sports In shiny shirts and tiny shorts"

Remember that we're voting on how Iconic they are for ANIMATICS, not for the song itself. In order to make things fair, the tone and mood of the song should not affect how iconic it is (for example, a serious song should not be considered more iconic than a joke song just because it's serious)

Propaganda and animatic links of the songs under the cut:

What is This Feeling? - Wicked Musical

Propaganda:

it is PEAK enemies to lovers material. doesn’t even need to be lovers, it can be friends, whatever it doesn’t matter cause this song works so well and it’s so good urg

i just think it's neat

Animatics with the song:

QSMP

Good Omens Ineffable Wives

Wednesday

MDZS Wangxian

Danganronpa V3

SVSSS liujiu

There! Right there! (Is [blank] Gay or European?) - Legally Blonde the Musical

Propaganda:

I promise you that any anime (or other show but I swear it is mainly animes) with two or more male characters will have an animatic for this song. It just will, of is the natural part of the process of a fandom becoming popular. People know this song even if they think they don't know this song. It is so catchy it eats you from the inside out.

It's legally blonde and a musical which is prine queer culture. Fandom is queer culture. Plus it's a banger song with a lot of fun animatics. A lot of other "fandom" songs are kinda really sad (Two Birds cough cough) and this one is just silly goofy. It's also just the right decision.

There were SO MANY of these back in the day like i swear no m/m fandom ship was immune. Extra points if the character was actually european

look, it's a classic. try and find a fandom without an animatic to gay or european. you could find one for nearly any fandom for multiple characters even. the "i thought you said...best friend" set of lines is used in incorrect quote posts to this day. it's iconic, it's a classic, we all know and love it

Every piece of media has at least one (1) character who is very gay (usually for another) and this song shows that through desperate self denial but they get there eventually. Even now I see new animatics with this song I love so dearly, demonstrating the power of this song and icon Elle Woods. You search up “is __ gay or European” on YouTube and videos from years past and mere moments ago will cover your page.

Animatics with the song:

Demon Slayer Giyuu

Room of Swords

Ace Attorney Miles Edgeworth

Revolutionary Girl Utena

OMORI

Genshin Impact Pantalone

Please be cautious and read the title, description and warning cards on the animatic videos if you decide to watch them. If you've got specific triggers I'd recommend even more caution when watching animatics of fandoms you don't know, since sometimes canon-typical themes don't get warnings.

Please keep in mind that I don't know all the media and fandoms of the animatics provided as examples and I don't have the time (nor the will) to research them all. Don't come into my notes or my ask box complaining about them being included, I will simply block you. If a ship animatic included is about an adult and a minor, do tell me and I'll take it out of the post

ALSO keep in mind that I don't know all the artists submitted; in fact, even if I do know them I do not know absolutely nothing about them as people (I do not have twitter nor tiktok) and I could not POSSIBLY have the time to research ALL of the artists' controversies and what came of them so PLEASE don't flood my inbox with the artists' entire crime list.

[wolfymcwolffacee]

Another Harry Potter (Valentine's) Request List!!!

I figured that just before Valentine's was the perfect time to start this malarky up again! So, its that time again, where I give you the rules for my requests! If you want to request anything, either let me know the prompts that you want me to write for through commenting/reblogging or sending me a direct message. Then, I'll get it written as soon as I can and post the link to the fic (which will be on ao3) in a post on this blog, and tag you into it. It will only be a few thousand words long, unless I get really into it and get carried away! And everything is going to be Valentine's themed, being as its that time of the year again! Though, I am doing something a bit different this time - I will write for any ship this time rather than giving you a list! You can, by the way, give me as many prompts as you want to work with, as long as they would work together in a story! Just make sure that you clarify which category your prompts are from (i.e. dialogue, situation or smut (yes, I'm doing smut this time!)) and clarify which ship its for.

Deadline - 20/02/24 (but I'll make exceptions until I make another prompts list if you really want a request!)

Dialogue Prompts: *taken from @writing-for-whoever-listens's OTP Prompts list* 1) "Don't think I'll forget about what you did." "If I kiss you enough, you will." 2) "You just... you make everything bearable, and I don't think I could do this without you anymore." 3) "But they-" "I don't care if they're my family, they do not get to talk to you like that." 4) "I love you." "Sarcasm?" "No, I'm serious this time." 5) "Can we just... stay? Like this?" 6) "I am not dancing in the rain with you!" "But its romantic!" 7) "Why do you stay?" "Where did that come from?" "I was thinking about it." 8) "Let's dance." "Right now?" "Yes." *taken from @heirloomcaterpilllar442's Evil Dialogue Prompts list* 9) "You know, when my life flashed before my eyes? I guess I just thought you'd be in more of the scenes." 10) "We're all out of ____ (I'll fill in the blank with whatever fits your ship). I would buy more, but since you left, well. You're the only one that was eating them. I'm not sure what I'd even do with them now." 11) "School was like, a really long time ago. Why do you think I'd care now?" 12) "Do you realise how hard I'm trying? Do you know that everything I do is for us?" 13) "Mum says hi. I think she misses you too."

Situation prompts: *these ones are mine!* 1) First kiss 2) Dancing together without music 3) Last kiss 4) Meeting the family 5) Favourite flowers 6) Platonic Valentine's 7) A falling asleep in B's arms 8) A cooking B a meal 9) Braiding their hair 10) Shoulder massage 11) Cuddling underneath a blanket 12) Watching a romcom together 13) A softly singing a lullaby to B as they drift off to sleep 14) A kisses B on the cheek softly before they leave 15) A and B reveal their secret love 16) A wakes up to a 'good morning, I love you' note from B 17) A helps B to undress after a difficult day 18) A goes in for a kiss and bumps noses with B 19) A whispers their hopes for the future with B while they sleep, but B hears the whole thing 20) Sharing a meal

CW - Smut prompts are after this line, so make sure that you are ok with seeing them if you look below here!

Smut Prompts: (these are a mix of dialogue and situation prompts) *taken from @loveisanimaginarydagger3000's Phrases/Actions that make me drop to my knees, ready to submit list* 1) "You're mine." 2) Ghosting their lips against yours before pulling back with a smug smirk, making you chase them desperately. 3) When they murmur pure filth into your ear while they’re touching you. 4) Interlocking your fingers above your head while making out passionately. 5) “You’re in no position to tease baby, remember that.” *taken from @delusionisaplace's "𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙝, 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩…" 𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩 𝙙𝙞𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙪𝙚 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩𝙨 6) "I want to hear you beg." 7) "Open your legs for me, baby. I wanna see you." 8) "That noise...keep making it." 9) "Don't be gentle with me—I like it when you're rough." *taken from @loveisanimaginarydagger3000's phrases/actions that have my legs divorcing* 10) Toying with a piece of clothing, whether that be the collar of your shirt, slowly undoing your belt, sliding a finger under the waistband of your underwear before letting it snap back against your skin. 11) Have them murmuring against your skin how beautiful/handsome you are. 12) Sighing softly at the shell of your ear so you can hear how much you affect them.  13) Scraping their teeth over your neck to have a shiver of arousal run down your spine.  14) “Don’t be shy baby, I love the way you moan my name.”