#sometimes i am reminded of how much i adore him and how much he lost and how little of that was his fault

[enbeemagical]

Public Service Announcement: Ethari deserves All the good things in life and that includes getting his husband and his friends and his daughter back PLUS SOME

i mean. just look at him.

[anthonsgi]

★’･ﾟ:｡･:*:HSR Men random bf!headcanons:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

【Note: Hello! I have decided to write short headcanons for a few men in this game [playable only, sorry Oleg simps (*_ _)人], excuse any fluency errors, English isn't my first language, and I am still learning as I go! Please enjoy, and don't hesitate to request anything; I'm open to suggestions!】

【Pairings: Dan Heng, Gepard, Jing Yuan x GN!READER】

【CW: none!】

☆〜DAN HENG〜☆

He enjoys your company even if you two aren't speaking; simply being aware of your presence near him when he's focused on something insignificant, like reading a book, relaxes him.

Definitely has a soft spot for you and lets go of his usual cold and reserved demeanor when you two are alone.

There have been a few instances of him unconsciously beaming at you as he got lost in thought, looking at your excited face while you rambled about something you're passionate about. He'd never admit to it, though, if you called him out on it.

Prefers to be the big spoon mainly because he loves the feeling of your back pressing against his chest when your breathing slows as you fall asleep.

However, he appreciates it if you ask to be the big spoon whenever he has a nightmare or one of his visions.

He has little relationship experience [renheng ＼(º □ º l|l)/], so as committed as he is to making you feel loved and appreciated, he searches the data bank in the archives for information on romantic gestures and comes across a book about the significance of pet names. After "educating" himself more, he may refer to you as "my love," "darling," or even "baby" if he's feeling particularly lovey-dovey.

Dan Heng isn't a jealous boyfriend; nevertheless, if something bothers him, he becomes touchy! Always holding your arm or wrapping his hand around your waist.

Haven only just awakened, he's such a sleepy cutie! He'd try to kiss you but miss and peck your chin instead.

☆〜GEPARD〜☆

He's an exceptionally blushy guy, and it's pretty simple to make him flustered. Just hold his hand, and he'll melt.

No matter how long you've been together, Gepard loves to kiss but will never do it without getting your consent first. His kisses are short and gentle, but they are also tender and reassuring, given that he frequently cups your face in his hands.

Even though this guy evidently struggles to keep his plants alive, he will make every effort to grow a lovely flower as a gift for you.

He attracts kids like a magnet; some of them aspire to be captains like him, and it's the cutest thing ever to see him grow nervous as they shower him with compliments and questions.

Sometimes he'd find you asleep on the couch, and he'd pick you up bridal style and carry you to bed carefully so as not to wake you.

Oftentimes, Gepard's responsibilities prevent him from spending time with you, but he always strives to make up for it.

Used a cheesy pickup line once and never tried it again after feeling the second-hand embarrassment.

He always looks for a way to impress you with his strength.

☆〜JING YUAN〜☆

His duty as General usually keeps him occupied with work stuff, so when you pay him a visit during the day, he'll light up almost instantly and he'll be in a good mood.

You have to constantly kick him (gently or with force depending on how much sleep he has robbed you of) so he can turn to the other side and stop snoring.

When writing about his day in his diary, he always mentions the instances where something reminded him of you. (Spoiler alert: the majority of his day description is him adoring your facial features).

Jing Yuan's kisses are typically quick, although if he's feeling exceptionally touch-deprived, he prefers deeper, longer kisses.

If you decide to move in with him, it will be incredibly domestic; you would prepare each other's favorite drinks and meals just the way you like them without needing to ask, and you will share each other's clothes and accessories on a daily basis.

Routine, even if secure, can be exhausting, and he finds himself trapped in one. Therefore, Jing Yuan appreciates it when you try new things with him and make him feel like he can breathe freely again. Without worrying about any boring responsibilities, just you and him spending time together. Those are his most treasured moments.

He's very protective of you. Secretly that is. It might seem that he's not that bothered by the times you may have spent a while longer on an errand or went exploring, but he's actually worried! Sometimes to the point of sending someone to go look for you, just to be sure you're all safe and sound.

Has asked you to massage his back on multiple ocassions after a particularly tiring day.

[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

[kingofthering]

motogp riders as hockey players

This has been a long time in the making but we are finally here. Promised myself I would take care of MotoGP after doing F1 two years ago and I landed on some stuff. Probably couldn't have finished this without the help of @moonshynecybin, @vanillow and every other person who had opinions on this in my polls and ask box.

I am not known to know how to make choices. I struggled to make some of those decisions (it's a miracle they didn't all end up on the wing). Also I've kind of been in a hockey break the last couple of years so the real players comparisons weren't coming to me as easily as they did for F1, sorry.

Would love to hear your opinions (don't be mean about my choices or I will cry) (okay bye).

2024 grid

Aleix Espargaro : I rewrote this one so many times because to me Aleix could play any position but everyone sees him as a goalie and I will agree on that. Big Flower vibes except Aleix was drafted in the 5th round and arrived in the NHL and started establishing himself later. At some point his team’s captain leave and they don’t name a new one (team just has 3 or 4 As like it happens sometimes) and Aleix already had one of those As but he's nicknamed Capitán anyway. Has a rookie leaving with him pretty much every year.

Alex Marquez : Defense baby, very evident to me. He blocks a lot of shots (part of the best PK of the league and all) and always gets into fights to defend Marc.

Alex Rins : Calm, defensive d-man. Moves teams a bit but never needs long to be given an A.

Augusto Fernandez : I am sorry I know so little about Augusto this is a little bit of a struggle. We’ll do center that mostly manage the 3rd line.

Brad Binder : Also someone I struggled to pinpoint so I tried thinking about hockey players he reminded me of and the first guy that came to me was Morgan Reilly. Then I thought of guys with little brothers that are a little more feisty and brain supplied me with Quinn Hughes so that’s probably a sign to go defense.

Enea Bastianini : Top 5 pick. Winger that lost the Calder fight to Jorge Martin (did you know that they technically were born only 30 days apart because I just realized when checking their draft class). Kind of a little shit on the ice but so good at what he does. Will bitch about having to speak English at any occasion. The media adores him anyway.

Fabio Di Giannantonio : 3rd round pick that arrives in the league 3 years post draft. Feels a little scrappy to me despite the fact that he has the softest of voices in interviews. Position? Hm. Also a toss-up. I’ll go defense. PP2.

Fabio Quartararo : First round pick that everyone criticizes until he proves everyone wrong by winning the Cader the season right after the draft. Winger, very talented, almost wins the Art Ross in his second season before struggling in the last quarter. Calder Trophy winner. The comparisons to Marc go crazy that first year (Fabio is star struck the first time they're face to face on the ice, thank god they're not dealing with FOs).

Franco Morbidelli : I think he’ll forever be a little enigma to me but I want to say goalie. Makes attempts for goalie goals every now and then. Succeeds at least once.

Jack Miller : 4th liner center that would deserve to go up and down between the AHL and the NHL but alas, he’s no longer on his ELC :) Definitely talks too much (both in and out of the ice), gets into a lot of fights, doesn’t win that many of them.

Joan Mir : The one that everyone predicted would be first overall but he wasn’t (Shane Wright vibes, sorry) (I’ve seen both Slaf & Pecco with my own eyes and they indeed have a big size difference so we’ll end the comparison here). Oh, and that’s a center baby.

Johann Zarco : Genuinely can’t even imagine him on ice skates. Maybe defense.

Jorge Martin : Center. Gets drafted lower than he expected but does beat Enea to get the Calder despite a big injury in his rookie year. Lives at Aleix place when he arrives in the league, spends so much time with the kids, etc etc

Luca Marini : My instinct was defense (while being aware of my ‘taller guys go play defense’ bias) and I have seen some arguments about putting him at center. I think putting him on the offensive line puts even more pressure on him re: being Valentino’s brother and I do like d-man Luca. Can’t imagine his beautiful face marred by a puck/stick/elbow bruise (or god forbid a broken tooth) but hm, we’ll ignore that.

Marc Marquez : Speedy crafty winger. True mix of Sidney Crosby and Connor McDavid (yes they’re both centers, I know, I do not care) (if we wanna name actual wingers, Callie also said Travis Konecny and Johnny Gaudreau and I approve very much). Boy wonder that the media has been following forever. Angel face that does get into fights sometimes (Alex has to defend him so much because he’s tiny and good so obviously big guys come after him). 1st overall. Calder winner. Art Ross winner. Hart winner. You can’t really win the Stanley Cup on your rookie season when you’re first overall but he wins it early on anyway (think Sid in 2009, Kane/Toews in 2010).

Marco Bezzecchi : Winger. Connects with Pecco so well. Gets into fights and trash talks a little too much while having his mouthguard out of his mouth more often than in (think Matthew Tkachuk). Always plays it up for the camera when their photos are being taken when arriving at the arenas (and loves to have fun with some of his fits).

Maverick Viñales : Another one I could see in various positions. Definitely a first overall that had huge hopes put on his shoulders during his first years and then things faltered a little (bunch of trades, struggling to find his place within teams, etc). Fighter that went calmer with age. Since I can’t have an Aleix/Maverick d-pair, I think I’m gonna keep him at center.

Miguel Oliveira : I think solid center. Takes care of the second line. Probably has an A.

Pecco Bagnaia : Center and it’s not negociable in any world. Could be a 1st overall that disappoints a bunch of people by not getting the Calder. Very clinical play. Could see him as a two-ways forward (Anze Kopitar is coming to mind). Played college hockey with Bezz & Cele (was living with Bezz but Cele was at the house all of the time anyway, already in that first year where he was assigned to the dorms) (inspiration here being my beloved 2021-2022 UMich team).

Pedro Acosta : Winger. 1st overall. Calder trophy winner. Gets compared to Marc a lot and is so tired of it. Trash talks so much when he’s on the ice and on the bench (and in the penalty box). Was the very last rookie to live with Aleix, the last year before Aleix’s retirement. Scores a Michigan goal somewhere in his first 10 games in the NHL.

Raul Fernandez : I kind of want a brothers d-pair so I’m going to go defense for the Fernandez brothers. Arrives in the league the second year after his draft despite being drafted halfway through round 2.

Takaaki Nakagami : I can see him as a center, captain of his team at Worlds/Olympics. Has the best fits for rink arrivals (sorry Bezz).

retired riders

Valentino Rossi : So. Listen. Valentino is obviously a legend of the sport, maybe of Gretzky’s level. Obviously a 1st overall. Won the Calder. Won the Art Ross & the Hart on several occasions. Several Cups and one Conn Smythe trophy. You get the picture. Now, he’s a forward, we all know that. I posted a poll about his position and literally got a 50/50 split between center and winger. My initial gut feeling was center and then several of you gave arguments for wing and talking with Maddie led me to the changing positions at some point / playing both options (like all the guys who have double availabilities when you do fantasy hockey, real life example could be Leon Draisaitl occasionally). Anyway. I’m gonna be a little stubborn there and stay with center (although I was very delighted when my brain came with the idea of Jorge Lorenzo having to center both Vale & Marc). The intensity of those blue eyes at the dot? 70% faceoffs wins ratio ✨ Additionally, not much of a fighter (not until he bulks up please) but he definitely has a mouth on him when he’s in the mood. Very loud. He wins the best shootout goal + celly thing at the ASG at minimum 3 times in a row.

Jorge Lorenzo : Center and not taking any criticism on that one. Very good at faceoffs. Definitely challenges Valentino for his spot on the first line when he first gets in the league and yet, they connect extraordinarily well on the PP. Moves teams a bunch toward the end of his career and retire early because of an injury. 

Dani Pedrosa : First place my brain went was ‘he’s so tiny please let him go on a wing’. It also allows him to be centered by Jorge when they play together during World Juniors and they’re soooo good (despite the rivalry that obviously also exists in there, don’t worry). I will say, I could see him centering with Nicklas Backstrom vibes as well.

Andrea Dovizioso : Winger. Second rounder who wins the Memorial Cup during his juniors career (with the London Knights, because I said so). Does get into fights, especially where Marc is concerned.

Casey Stoner : Center. Valentino is very bad at faceoffs against him, it's a thing. Casey is named captain of an ASG team in like his second year being invited (Valentino is obviously captain of the other team). Starts taking the game ban over going to the ASG at some point (Ovi who). Has a concussion that takes him out for over half a season, struggles to come back and eventually retires. Also, very canonically, the biggest fisher of them all.

[cailinsblog]

A Day with Charles, Y/N, and Jack

Charles leclerc x reader

The streets of Monaco were bathed in the warm glow of the Mediterranean sun, casting a golden hue over the pristine yachts and bustling markets. In a charming apartment overlooking the marina, life was just as picturesque for Charles Leclerc, his wife Y/N, and their adorable three-year-old son, Jack.

Jack was a spitting image of his father, with the same tousled brown hair and, most strikingly, Charles' captivating green eyes. Y/N often found herself lost in those eyes, mesmerized by their depth and beauty. It was one of the many things she adored about her little family.

This particular morning, the scent of fresh croissants and brewing coffee filled the air. Y/N stood by the kitchen counter, slicing fruit for breakfast, while Jack clung to her leg, his small hands gripping her jeans.

"Bonjour, mon amour," Charles greeted, wrapping his arms around Y/N from behind and planting a soft kiss on her neck.

"Bonjour, Charles," she replied with a smile, turning her head to kiss him on the lips. "Have you seen how much Jack looks like you today? Especially his eyes."

Charles crouched down to Jack's level and ruffled his hair. "Oui, c'est vrai. Il a mes yeux. But he has your smile, and that makes him even more special."

Jack giggled, reaching up to be picked up by his father. "Papa!"

Charles lifted Jack effortlessly, twirling him around before settling him on his hip. "Ready for breakfast, little man?"

Jack nodded enthusiastically, pointing to the table where his favorite blue plate awaited.

As they sat down to eat, Y/N couldn't help but watch the two of them interact. Jack was undeniably a mama's boy, always seeking her out for comfort and affection, but his bond with Charles was equally heartwarming. She loved seeing how Charles' eyes would light up whenever he looked at their son.

After breakfast, they decided to spend the day exploring Monaco. The Leclerc family was well-loved by the locals, and their strolls often involved many friendly greetings and photo requests. Today was no different, and as they walked through the streets, they were frequently stopped by fans and friends alike.

At one point, they stopped by a quaint little park. Jack immediately ran to the playground, his excitement evident in his beaming smile.

"Careful, Jack," Y/N called out, watching him climb up the slide. "Ne te fais pas mal."

Charles laughed, squeezing her hand reassuringly. "He'll be fine. He's a tough little guy."

They sat on a nearby bench, watching Jack play. Charles turned to Y/N, a tender expression on his face. "You know, sometimes I still can't believe how lucky I am. I have the most beautiful wife and an amazing son."

Y/N blushed, leaning her head on his shoulder. "I feel the same way, Charles. Every day with you and Jack is a blessing."

"Do you think he knows how much we love him?" Charles asked, watching Jack interact with another child on the playground.

"I think he feels it," Y/N replied softly. "And I think he sees it in our eyes, especially yours. Those beautiful green eyes of yours that he inherited."

Charles smiled, pulling her closer. "I love you, Y/N."

"Je t'aime, Charles," she whispered back.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the park, they decided to head home. Jack, tired from all the playing, clung to Y/N as they walked back. His little head rested on her shoulder, his eyes fluttering closed.

"He's definitely a mama's boy," Charles said, chuckling as he watched them.

"And I wouldn't have it any other way," Y/N replied, kissing Jack's forehead.

Back at their apartment, they settled into their evening routine. After a bath and a bedtime story, Jack was finally asleep in his crib. Y/N stood by the crib, watching her son sleep peacefully.

Charles came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "He's perfect, isn't he?"

"Yes," Y/N said, tears of happiness in her eyes. "He has your eyes, and every time I look at him, I'm reminded of how much I love you."

Charles turned her around to face him, cupping her face in his hands. "And I love you, Y/N. Thank you for giving me this beautiful life, for being the best mother to our son."

They shared a tender kiss, a moment of pure love and connection. As they pulled away, Charles glanced down at Jack, a smile playing on his lips. "He's going to grow up knowing how much he's loved. And every time he looks in the mirror, he'll see those green eyes and remember where he came from."

Y/N nodded, her heart full. "Our little Jack, with his papa's eyes and his mama's heart. He's our everything."

They left the nursery, hand in hand, ready to face whatever the future held. Together, they knew they could handle anything. Their love was strong, and with Jack as the center of their world, their family was complete.

[creative-kny-fics]

HII! I don't know if you are accepting requests at this time, but if so, I would like to request lee!Giyuu, Ler! Kyojuro, they are so cute! It is one of my favorite ships and friendships (besides the sanegiyuu) you can refer to the image you uploaded before. Please and thank you!!!!

Sure! (I need to do this)

Ler: Kyojuro Rengoku

Lee: Giyuu Tomioka

Love is strange, isn't it? A couple formed by an introverted person and an extroverted person, or also called, a sun and moon dynamic.

Despite people's opinions, the love of this couple was unbreakable, there was no jealousy, no fights, no misunderstandings, just love, love and nothing but love.

'Have I ever told you that I feel like the luckiest man, Tomioka?'

'For having me by your side?'

'Yes!', Kyojuro hugged his lover, who was sitting on his lap.

Giyuu Narrates: Since I started my relationship with Rengoku, I was ashamed and afraid, everything I loved, I lost.

My sister, my best friend, some companions I made during my time as a lower-ranking hunter, I lost everything.

I couldn't believe that someone like him would notice me, I felt bad, to a certain point, I, I loved him, but I didn't believe I deserved that love, Rengoku deserved someone better.

'Tomioka? Are you okay?', he asked me, but I didn't answer, I think that made him attract me more.

Even though he loved to talk, he was able to maintain silence, just because I didn't want to talk.

I can't help but sometimes get into my thoughts like I'm doing now, I felt like anything that came out of my mouth would ruin everything or could be misunderstood, I didn't want that, I didn't want to lose him...

Kyojuro Narrates: Giyuu, he is someone who is too shy, he is so quiet and his voice is so light that you must be completely silent to hear him, but still, I couldn't help but feel that sometimes, he was afraid, maybe it was me?

We've never talked about the past, personally, I don't care about that and if Giyuu won't open up to me about it, why would I "force" him to?

It is better to focus on the present after all, but, sometimes, I would like him to tell me what he thinks, maybe there is something that I am doing wrong or that he is afraid of, but I want him to get out of it, without being something forced, something natural.

'Tomioka...'

'Why do you like me?'

'Huh?'

That was strange, but it didn't make me angry, I always liked to remind him how much I loved him, so I was cute that he asked that question.

Seeing his cheeks blush slightly and how his eyes seem to shine, like the reflection of light in the sea, how he hides his face and looks away, pretending not to have liked my comment, everything about him is perfect in my point of view, even if he doesn't think he feels that way

'Why? I don't know, there are so many things that attract me to you. Your beautiful eyes, your hair that contrasts with them, your pale skin because I can always tell when you blush, your beautiful smile, although I very rarely see it, I consider it to be the best in the world. Should I continue?'

'Is there more where that came from...?'

'I have a huge list!', oh well.

Giyuu settled better on his chest, closing his eyes when Kyojuro began to caress his cheeks, he didn't know why, but he had always liked that light sensation.

Rengoku smiled and placed a kiss on his forehead, chuckling when Giyuu groaned in embarrassment and hid further into his chest, trying to cover the growing blush, too bad he couldn't stop it from going to his ears.

Giyuu Narrates: Now I understand why so many people adore Rengoku, he is such a good person, just one of his hugs comforts you, it feels so warm to be between them and the sensation is so pleasant that you don't want to separate.

His caresses and touches are so light, it brings back so many memories, memories that make me cry, but somehow, no tears come out of my eyes, although, do I confess something?

Lately, since I started being with Rengoku, has my heart been melting? Can I consider it like that? I don't know, but I think it would explain well the fact that it makes it easier for me to cry, but not with anyone, only with him and no one else but him.

'Giyuu, is everything okay darling?'

'Why do you said so?'

'You're... Crying...', the blonde commented, drying his lover's tears.

Kyojuro narrates: Tomioka, I always knew there was something with him, there was an internal pain that constantly accompanied him, but, I never dared to ask him, I didn't feel that it was right.

But now, we are a couple and there must be trust between us, right? Of course, I don't want to force him, I just want to help him, perhaps it sounds somewhat contradictory to my previous thoughts, but that's how thoughts are, right?

They vary after a few seconds...

'Tomioka, if there is something I have done wrong...'

'You never do anything wrong. You're the best I've ever had and that's what I'm afraid of...'

"That's what I'm afraid of"? I don't understand, maybe he doesn't like me and he only said it so he wouldn't hurt me? No, he wouldn't be able to, I know him, there is another reason, but what is it...?

'Everything I love, I lose...'

Giyuu Narrates: Wow, that, that felt so, comforting? Yes, I think that's the term... Before, I had not discussed this with anyone, I preferred to keep what I felt to myself because no one had to be bothered by my problems.

Sabito, Tsutako-Nee-San, I'm sorry for my change, but how do you expect me to remain that innocent child after everything I've been through? Yes, there are people who go through worse, but, I, I am weak, despite my physical strength, I am weak...

'Giyuu Tomioka...'

'Huh? You've never called me by my full name... Did I do something wrong?'

'Yes.', oh...

Kyojuro Narrates: Maybe, I shouldn't have used that tone, the little shine I had seen before had disappeared, oh no, this is wrong.

'Why did you never tell me?'

'Why would you be interested?'

'Why? Because I love you, because I want to be part of your life, because I want to help you get ahead, I want us both to do it, but I can't do it if you close yourself off so much. I don't want to force you, I just, I just want you to trust me, trust me, Tomioka...?'

'I will, Rengoku...'

That was something easy, but, oh god, I was afraid, what if I lost him? At least now I'll know a little more about him, maybe not now, but in time...

That's fine, I'll wait until old age if I have to, because that's what love is about, or at least that's what my mother taught me...

'Would you mind if I told you another time?'

'Of course not, honey, I want you to feel ready, nothing forced, okay?'

'Thank you... For everything... Seriously...'

He is, without a doubt, so beautiful... So pure... I love him so much, even if I am dreaming, I would sleep forever so that this does not end

Giyuu Narrates: Why am I this lucky? Do I deserve it? Tsutako-Nee-San, you always had a relationship like that, so calm, serene, without problems, just love and affection, and you gave it up for me...

Maybe, after so much pain, a little joy never hurts or yes? Yes, I think you two would have liked it for me...

'Kyojuro...'

'Hey, you called me Kyojuro... What's wrong? Is it okay if I call you Giyuu?'

'Surely... It would bother you if... You know... You do that...?'

'What exactly?'

Damn, why was it so hard for me to say that word? He must know, I know him too much to know his reactions, he just wants me to tell him, but how could I? I can't even say the word without...

'Giyuu, hehehe, your cheeks... They look so cute when adorned with that reddish color. Or maybe pink?'

'Shut up, my cheeks are not red, much less pink'

'You're right, it's not just your cheeks... Your ears too!'

Kyojuro Narrates: Isn't he cute? God, if anyone else saw it, their heart would also be as captivated as mine.

I know exactly what he wants, but, it sounds so nice when he asks me, I can't just do it and miss out on that opportunity, it doesn't always happen, so, the few times it does, it's always a gift to me.

'So? What is it?'

'The, the thing, the tingly thing...'

'What? 'Do you want ants?'

'Noooo...'

Hehehe, so cute when he blushes like that and covers his face, while kicking in embarrassment, so beautiful, so innocent, so unique...

'So? Do you want me to guess?'

'Rengoku, do you know what I want, why do you like to make me suffer like this...?'

'Because you sound so cute when you do it, do you really want that?'

'Yes... Please...'

"Please"? How cute, God, it makes me want to squeeze him with my love, although I always do it hehehe

Giyuu Narrates: There are times when I feel like I'm talking to a child, in the body of an adult, but I can't deny that I like it, I like how it pampers me.

'E-ehehehe... Ky-Kyo-Kyohojuhuroho!'

'Remember if it's too much for you, you can tell me, I don't want to do something that bothers you'

Man, this man is a real tickle monster, but a very attentive one, he really knows how to make me laugh, he just need a few kisses in my ears and neck, of course, nothing with ulterior motives, dirty minds.

'Rehengohokuhu! Ahahaha!'

'Is there something bothering you, honey?'

'Noooo! Juhuhust, oh mahahan, I cahahan't!'

'Aren't you the cutest little thing in the world? How cute, you have no idea how much happiness it gives me to see your beautiful smile and hear your beautiful laugh, it is the best gift I can have. I love you so much, you're so cute!'

Oh man, why this...?

Kyojuro Narrates: I feel like my heart is beating a mile an hour, since I discovered that Tomioka, or rather, Giyuu was incapable of handling teasing, I felt even more in love, can he stop liking or captivating me for a single moment?

Should I tell you something? There are times when he usually whispers things to me and I don't know why, but I laugh, even if he hasn't said anything to me, that's why many times I like to do the same and take a few bites of his ears, I like his squeal of embarrassment, to be honest.

'Do you need a break? Maybe, to stop me, change spots, strategy? You know I don't mind doing it, or maybe you want me to continue? I know very well that, deep down, you love when people tickle you!'

'Please! Pleheahasehehe!! Dohohohon't tehasehe meeee! I cahahan't! Kyohohoho!!'

'Aaaaw, your laugh is so contagious! Also, you're laughing more, does this tickle you~? What should I call you? Giggle bug? Mr. ticklish? What, you don't like it? Hahaha, hey! Why do you cover your face?'

'Stohohohoooop!'

It makes me so cute to see him, how he covers his face with his hands and kicks. I know him well and I know that, indirectly, he asks me to continue, and who am I to refuse such charms?

'Can we play something?'

'O-okahay... But... No teasing... I don't think I can tolerate it'

'I swear, love, and you swear to me that you will tell me if something bothers you, okay?'

'...I swear...'

His emotion is obvious, despite everything, he tries to maintain his "reserved" personality, hehehe, how cute

Giyuu Narrates: What was I thinking when I accepted? I mean, obviously, I wanted something, I knew he would respect my limits, but, oh man, I've never been good at this tickling game, I don't hate it, but I find it impossible to keep my composure.

'1, 2, 3 or 4?'

'Huh? Well, still won't you tell me the option I chose... Mmm... 2?'

'Good! Maybe you know it, it's a classic! Itsy bitsy spider...~'

Well, I regret having accepted, it was obvious that there would be an indirect mockery, Kyojuro chooses songs where you have to sing, damn, why didn't I choose another number?

Did he have to go straight to my ribs? He knows well that I am incapable of tolerating tickling there, and that with just a few squeezes, he will have me begging for mercy...

'Ple-plahahasehehe!!'

'I haven't even started hahaha! I've barely said the name of the game and you're already laughing! Hahaha, your blush is so cute! Can I start or do you need more time?'

'You can start... I guess...'

'Okay, but remember to tell me if it's too much for you, although I know you'll like it after all and ask for more!'

'HEY.'

But what a shame...

Kyojuro Narrates: Why must this man be so cute?! Just a few squeezes on his ribs and I felt how he squeezed my uniform hard, I must admit, the fact that he hides his face in my chest makes his hair rub against my neck and tickle me a little hehehe, but it doesn't bother me, it just It lets me know that I'm doing my job well.

'Oh my gohohohod! Tohoho muhuhuch!! Pleheahasehehe!! A minute! A mihinutehehehe!!!'

'Okay okay, I'll stop~'

Did I tell you or not? It only took me a few squeezes to make him hysterical, his sensitivity is so captivating

'Do you need me to stop? Maybe...'

'3'

'Huh? Oh, I see! Well, okay, if that's what you feel most comfortable with...'

'Why do I feel like I'm going to regret it a little...?'

'I don't know, but if it bothers you, feel free to tell me and I'll stop!'

Wow, either Tomioka is an only child or he is the younger brother, because it seems that someone, whose role has been that of an older brother, can make him scream in a few seconds hahahaha!

This brings back so many memories, I just hope it doesn't bother him, I wouldn't want to do something that makes him uncomfortable and lose the privilege of encouraging him this way whenever he wants or when he feels uncomfortable.

'I might kick you...'

'Then we'll both have to be careful hehehe. If it bothers you...'

'You can tell me, I know, you don't have to remind me every moment, I'm older than you...'

'And? That doesn't mean I can't pamper you or treat you like a baby~'

'Stoooop...'

I'm having cuteness overload, Giyuu Tomioka is so precious!

Giyuu narrates: Gods, why? What need does Rengoku have to make fun of me? I mean, it doesn't bother me, I know he doesn't do it with malice and I like it, but that, aaaaaah damn thoughts, why?!

'Grkh!'

'Oh my! Hehehe, so soon? Oh wow, you're more ticklish than I imagined and I love that about you~'

'Shut... U-uhuhuhup!!'

'Honey, I just ran my finger along the sole, are you okay?'

'Y-yeah... Y-you ahahaha ca-cahahan Co-coho-cohontin-nuhuhue!! Let me finish the sentence!!'

'Aaaaw, I just can't! You're so cute!'

I still want to understand, why Rengoku insists that I'm "cute"? Personally, I don't consider myself that, but he must have seen something to call me that, right?

I shouldn't even be thinking, I should be trying to stop myself from laughing at the tickling, but, my mind gets cloudy every time I get tickled, oh god... This won't be good... Please help...

Kinda inspiration in:

I FUCKING LOVE THEM

[pey4562]

What a Liar.

Pedro Pascal x Actressf!reader

Pedro pascal x actressf!reder

(It reminds me of this song)

Disclaimer: ! This is the first thing I’ve written and probably the only one I will write lol and probably a lot of grammar issues but I tried guys 🙌 but I hope you enjoy!!

Warnings: mention of smut but nothing really happens, possibly and age gap not specified, pet names, implied relationship, good amount of Y/N, that’s really all. (feel free to let me know if there is more)

Description: you and Pedro have been dating for about a year, and never really mentioned anything to anyone yet you both always said if one was ready, the other one was ready too . You grew really close after you had an intimate scene in Narcos, and when you found out you were both casted for Tlou, you were both happy. Then Pedro decides he’s ready to announce your relationship and announces it in an interview and calls you a liar. In a jokingly way.

*********************************************************

“Ugh this dress is so itchy” you say with a frustrated tone that fills the limo you two were in. ” I can’t wait to take it off of you later.” Pedro says, with a smirky tone. You lightly punch his shoulder as a way of saying ‘oh shut up’ without even opening your mouth. He lightly chuckles under his breath and sets his hand on your thigh, using the slit of your dress to his advantage. he slowly starts rubbing your thigh to calm your nerves which were through the roof.

“I’m glad I have you on my side” you lightly lay your head on his shoulder. “I wouldn’t dare be on anyone else’s side baby,” baby, you loved it when he called you that. It made your heart do backflips.

Sometimes you were surprised that not everyone knew about you and Pedro’s relationship. He would always post pictures with you, call you sweet names, and you guys were obviously very close, but many people didn’t think much about it because Pedro was just a sweet guy. But obviously there were people that made ‘ship edits’ of you two and you adored seeing them, then there were the jealous people sending you mean messages just because you were close with Pedro and they weren’t, but who could blame them, you got so lucky.

“You alright hun?” His low voice brings you back to you’re consciousness. “Oh yeah, I just got lost in thought” you replied then your eyes locked on his. He was giving you those perfect puppy eyes that put you into a comma if you looked for to long. He looked worried “thinking about what” he adds on. “How lucky I am to have you, that’s all” you look at him with your doe eyes, on purpose because you knew how much he loved that. “If anyone is lucky it is me sweetheart, you are the most gorgeous woman I have ever laid eyes on.” After that you could no longer keep eye contact with him, you were the first to crack you always were, and he loved that he had that dominance over you. Even though you have been together for a year you still blush around him like a high school crush.

The limo stopped. You made it, to the premier of ‘The Last Of Us’. He got out first, everyone was cheering extremely loud, then he opened the door for you. He put his hand out for you to grab to help you get out of the limo. Everyone saw you guys matching, Pedro with a long black sparkly coat and suit, then you with a long slim black sparkly dress. Everyone loved it, especially Pedro. You two hooked arms and walked down the carpet to get inside and filled out autographs as you went through. Once you were inside interviewers were flooding you with questions you tried to answer as many as you could. You looked around and saw Pedro was a few feet away still taking pictures and writing autographs. “Y/N!!, Y/N!” Interviewers are calling you over and over. The first few were just asking you questions about the show, then you got to one of the last ones. “Hello Y/N, everybody is wondering, what is your relationship with Pedro! Ever since THE scene from ‘Narcos’you guys seem to be extremely close. What’s going on!?” The woman asks, you really have to think about your response but it comes to you instantly. “Oh me and Pedro are just friends, he’s actually my best friend and one of my favorite people, but when we found out we were both casted for Tlou we were super excited,” you say then take a small sigh of relief for covering it up so well. “Thank you for your time Y/N” then you head on to the next few interviewers.

“Pedro!! Pedro!!” The same interviewer is calling Pedro,

“Everybody needs to know, what’s up with you and Y/N?” She pauses as he looks puzzled what to say “Y/N said you were just friends” that really caught his attention he knew exactly what to say “Y/N said we were just friends? That little liar.” Then he walks off without saying anything else. Everyone around froze hearing that from Pedro.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ after the party ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



You hadn’t known about what Pedro had said until you got into the limo and checked social media. “Pedro? What happened?” You say puzzled “what’s the matter darling?” He asks not sure what you’re talking about “Y/N Y/L/N and Pedro Pascal dating; Confirmed.” You say genuinely confused. “Oh, I guess I kind of announced our relationship,” he says scared of how you will react. “YOU WHAT?!?” He tries to calm you “ I know baby, I’m so sorry. I just saw the perfect opportunity and I took it, I want to show the whole world that you are mine, no one else can have you. I just don’t want to hide anymore.” He says he looks down towards the ground and refuses to make eye contact with you. “I’m sorry if I came of angry I didn’t mean to I just wish you would have talked to me about it first,” you pause “I’m so excited to be public with you Pedro.” You reassure him and lift up his chin forcing him to look at you. “You’re not mad?” His face lights up. “No honey I’m not mad.” He quickly squeezes you and hugs you as tight as possible as if you were about to run away. “Babe…” you pause. “What exactly was the ‘perfect opportunity’ that you said happened” He lets go of you “that one can wait until we get home, for now let’s worry about right now” you knew that ment you wouldn’t like what he said but he was right, you should just enjoy the moment.

As you rested your head on his shoulder, your leg over his and he was rubbing your thigh. It was so soothing you fell asleep. When you woke up, you were in bed, in your pajamas, hair wrapped up and all your makeup was off, Pedro had carried you out of the limo, straight to bed and pampered you like a little puppy.

When you turned over you saw Pedro, out like a light. You hugged his nearly lifeless body and kissed the crook of his neck. You were alerted by the low growl he let out waking up to you fully bear hugging him. “Baby?” He said with his eyes still closed “I love you so much Pascal.” He knew exactly why you said that. “I love you too…” he paused “Mrs. Pascal” hearing him call you that made your stomach flip inside out 10 times. “But what did you say in that interview, sir” you said with a sassy tone “hold on miss sass, I’ll turn on the tv” He turned it on and went to YouTube. The first video that popped up was your interviews you watched it and heard him say it “that little liar.” He looked at you expecting you to be furious, but just looked over to see you laughing. “You don’t care?” He tilted his head in confusion. “No Pedro! That’s hilarious. Why would I be mad at that!” You say still lightly chuckling “I don’t know, I guess I-“ you cut him off with a kiss on his lips. Then he grabs his phone and takes a picture. “Can I post this,” he asks ever so politely. “Yes, please do,”

[joelmillerlover123]

A Gentlemen’s Burden - A romantic regency era Joel Miller story - Part 2!!!!!

Read part one here!

Description : You and Mr. Miller have a few run ins.

Warnings : Um idek if this would be considered a pre/no outbreak AU but I guess it is?? Sarah is a pretty prominent character. Female reader. No use of y/n. Age gap (Joel is like 35ish and reader is like 23ish). Regency!Joel? Tried to keep Joel's character pretty consistent but you know... creative liberties were taken for the point of story telling.

Word count : almost 3k

Let me know if you like it!

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀

The soft grass of your sister’s gardens cushioned your steps as you wandered about the estate. Taking in the beautiful flowers and lush grass and of course, carrying a book you weren’t reading. You tried to, it’s just that the gardens offered much better entertainment. Even though literature was one of your passions, you’ve found yourself currently … uninspired.

The brief interactions with Joel still plagued your mind almost a good twenty hours later. You had shared breakfast together but he didn’t so much as look at you as he had in the library. His eyes continued to creep into your thoughts, rendering your brain mush. What is going on with you? You shook your head slightly and focused on some leaves sprawling out from under a tree. What kind of vine was it? You’d have to ask the head gardener next time you saw him.

“Auntie,” Katherine’s small voice called out behind you. You were so lost in thought you had forgotten you were walking with Katherine.

“Yes?” You turned around to face her, your skirts swishing with you.

“What is this?” She pointed to a big flower with pointed leaves and beautiful colors.

“That’s a lily,” You reply, stepping toward her, “It means it’s almost the end of summer,” You had read somewhere about lilies and their blooming patterns. You would have to ask which lily this was.

“And the end of the season,” She replies, still looking at the flower, “Is Mama’s ball the last of the season?” Your sister had trained her well.

“One of them,” You nod and place a hand on her back, “If not the last, then definitely the grandest,” You laugh to yourself and turn to walk again.

You were a chronic daydreamer. Your sister was your sponsor in your social seasons and consistently reminded you not to ‘whisk yourself off.’ You would become so consumed with your thoughts that you often startled easily and it was quite the burden. But, you didn’t mind. You enjoyed your daydreams. They often did whisk you away to beautiful places, beautiful times. You thought of places you had read about and returned to a few of the trips you and your sister had taken. You thought of France and then Mr. Miller. Mr. Miller had gone to France. Mr. Miller had the most beautiful brown eyes you have ever seen. You sighed out loud.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀

“Mr. Miller I so hope that you will enjoy dinner tonight, tomorrow’s dinner will be much smaller,” She placed a small potato in her mouth and smiled and then swallowed, “Because of the ball.”

“Yes, darling, I think Mr. Miller and Miss Miller remember there will in fact be a ball tomorrow,” Matthew smiled and looked at his wife with adoration. Sometimes their love for each other genuinely made you swoon.

“I know Sarah is excited,” Mr. Miller’s voice pierced your ears. What was it about him? You caught yourself more than once staring at him, feeling the cool, calculating look on your face and then quickly snapped out of it. You silently begged that he didn’t notice.

“I am,” Sarah nodded and forked at her food, “It’s my last ball before next season.”

“Oh! Sarah, how exciting!” Your sister exclaimed with glee, but still keeping her voice a polite volume.

Sarah nods and you feel Mr. Miller’s gaze shift to you. Or maybe you don’t. Are you imagining things? You sneak a look over to Mr. Miller, keeping your eyes quick. Sure enough, he is looking at you, but he quickly opens his mouth to speak, not missing a beat.

“Miss,” Mr. Miller says, looking towards you, “Lady Langford says you’ve had your fair share of social seasons,” You nod in reply, keeping your eyes steady and connected with his, “Maybe you can offer Sarah some advice for when she enters society.”

“Oh,” You say, willfully keeping a focused look on your face, “I’m sure she wants a husband, she needs to take advice from Lady Langford, not me,” Your comment gains a laugh from your sister and her husband but Mr. Miller just looks at you and then smiles, looking down at his food.

Of course your joke probably wouldn’t land with Mr. Miller and Sarah, they don’t know that your spinsterhood is completely by choice. You mentally smack yourself on the head for making a joke not fitting for the crowd. But your sister, always three steps ahead, quickly picks up your slack.

“My sister is not easily impressed,” She says, still laughing, “She had plenty of suitors all three seasons but she was not interested in a single one, not even a little. I guess I was lucky with my Matthew,” She looks over to her husband and swoons, to which he smiles, “But no, she did not… fond of the men. And then, you grew bored, yes?” She looks to you, inviting you to interject.

“Yes,” You nod, keeping your tone bored, “I did grow quite bored of it.”

“Really?” Sarah looks up at you, her eyes wide, “I love parties and the dancing.”

“I don’t know,” You shrug, “Not really something I much enjoy.”

The table grows quiet, taking in your answer and then Mr. Miller opens his mouth to speak.

“What is it that bores you so?” His voice rings out clear over the dinner table.

You take a beat, stealing a look at your sister and then looking back to Mr. Miller, thinking which answer would be most appropriate to use.

“I guess it was the constant repetition after a while,” You say, not entirely hiding the true answer, “Three seasons is a lot for anyone, and after a while it all seems the same. Same gossip, same type of people getting married. No real shock value in society,” You fork your potatoes around, growing uncomfortable in the spotlight.

“I wonder, is it boredom or comfortability in repetition?” Mr. Miller casually says as he looks around the table and then lands his eyes on you. No one else truly notices the weight of his question, but you feel an answer bubbling up out of your throat.

“I don’t enjoy repetition,” You meet his gaze, holding your chin high in his presence for the first time, “I enjoy adventure and surprise. I guess the answer would vary from person to person.”

“I find routine quite boring as well,” Mr. Miller replies, taking your answer in stride, “You should be glad you aren’t an American,” He says, smiling and shedding the pressure of the interaction quickly, “That’s all it is over there. All the same.”

Your sister said something in reply but you felt your head spinning. The weight of his words and pressing sat on your shoulders. What was he trying to figure out? Why was he digging so much? What about you interested him so? Why did he make you so dizzy and nervous?

You divert your attention away from your food which is now making you nauseous and look out one of the many windows. The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon. You can tell it was shaping up to be a beautiful sunset.

You asked to be excused from the table first, immediately walking towards the back exit towards the gardens. You heard your sister make some comment about how you ‘chased the wind’ and how it kept ‘life interesting,’ no doubt excusing your behavior to the Millers. You often excused yourself first to catch the sunset.

“Miss,” A deep voice called after you, “You’re going to watch the sunset?”

“Yes,” You turn and stop walking, your hair whipping with you, “Are you going to join me?”

“Yes, actually,” He said, sighing, “I’d, um, enjoy a break from all the polite conversation.”

You feel a smile tug at your lips and feel a joke on your tongue but keep it at bay, turning and walking towards the back exit. You still wonder why he was pressing you so at the dinner table and silently hoped he wouldn’t press you so hard in front of your sister again. It’s not that you didn’t want to answer, it’s just that your answers weren’t quite polite enough for a near stranger’s ears, especially in front of Julia. But… he had just said he was growing tired of polite conversation. Was that his covert way of asking you for your honest answers?

You both made your way in silence to the gardens, to which you led the two of you to a set of swings Matthew had put up for the children but you enjoyed sitting on them.

“Tell me about France,” You watch him sit down next to you, groaning slightly at the low placement on the swing. You notice his age for the first time, truly notice it. But instead of making you uncomfortable, you feel a cool whirl of feeling throughout your heart and stomach.

He is so strong, so capable, so mature. You find yourself staring and quickly snap out of it, darting your eyes away from him.

“It was wonderful,” He replies, “So much culture, so much art and music. Sarah really loved it.”

“Do you travel exclusively with her?” You ask, looking back to him to find him looking at you.

“Yes,” He nods, “Soaking up these final years with her.”

“That’s… quite endearing. My father didn’t feel that way,” You say, disclosing, “I’m sure you’ve heard how cold he can be.”

“I haven’t,” He said simply, “Not one for gossip.”

His answer took you by surprise so you looked out to the sunset, feeling the golden light and warmth on your skin.

You feel his eyes still on you, feeling their gaze flit across your face and skin and turn back to him.

“It was the men,” You said finally, “The men that bored me.”

“Ah,” He said, not missing a beat, “What about them?”

“A lot,” You smiled, laughing at yourself and then paused, “I had never felt the need to get married, so when the first man proposed I didn’t want to marry him so I didn’t. They all seem to blur and blend together after a while.”

“And will you ever marry?” Mr. Miller looked out to the sunset now and it was your turn to map the planes of his face, committing them to memory.

“Maybe,” You say, keeping your tone even, “Probably not.”

“Why not?” He asks simply, turning towards you again, meeting your eyes and making your heart skip a beat.

“Most men are not… what I want,” You say honestly. It was the complete truth, even though you typically do not share what you honestly think, unless you’re talking to your sister.

“And what is it that you want?” His voice tensed, almost as if he was preparing himself for something.

“Kindness, and tenderness. I want him to love me in the same way Lord and Lady Langford love each other. And I want him to be interesting. He cannot bore me,” You say, and then add, “If he is even out there. And I’d rather be here with my family than out there attached to a man who bores me or is unkind or both.”

Mr. Miller nods and you swear you see him relax just a bit. You wanted to ask if what you saw was true or just your eyes playing tricks on you. You wanted to ask why he wanted to know your honest answer and how he knew you weren’t being honest.

“Why did you not say that at dinner?” He asks, knocking the wind out of you just slightly and you look to him quickly, no doubt seeming offended. Which he answers, “I don’t mean to pry.”

“No, no,” You shake your head, “Please, pry. I tire of polite conversation.”

He smiles and waits for you to answer.

“Hiding one’s true self for the sake of etiquette tends to be quite tiring,” You finally say, avoiding his gaze, “But, after a while it becomes a habit. My sister is quite the etiquette minded missus. So, I must mind myself, at least while we have guests.”

“Ah,” He says, nodding, “Well, I deeply appreciate your candor. Truly. I feel so much more comfortable when people are honest about their distaste for polite society. Trust me, my dear, it is much more common than you think.”

My dear. The words echoed around in your mind and you tucked them away for later, keeping them safe in a small part of your brain that you only access for your most beautiful daydreams.

“Not according to my sister,” You wave off, hopefully waving away the dizziness his term of endearment had swirling around your head, “But she accepts me. She loves me. So does Lord Langford.”

“She often laughs it off, I’ve noticed,” He observes, looking at you.

“Yes,” You nod, smiling and blushing at his observation, “If she laughs, others will laugh instead of gossip.”

“Ah,” He nods knowingly, “She’s very smart.”

You stand, ending the conversation as the sunset turns to night.

“Thank you Mr. Miller for such riveting conversation,” You say, turning towards the house.

“Of course,” He stands, too, starting to walk with you, “I hope to have more conversations of this nature.”

The weight of his claim hangs heavy in the air and you hope it's not just you who noticed it. Was he asking to spend more time with you? Did he find you interesting? You walk in time with him back to the estate and part in the hallway, you to your room and him to his room with Sarah.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀

Again, that night you lie awake and allow your mind to drift to different scenarios in which you and Mr. Miller are the epicenter. You smile to yourself as you roll over and drift off to sleep, still smiling.

You wake sometime in the night, it is still dark outside with no sign of the sun peeking up over the horizon. You try to fall back asleep but can’t, tossing and turning until you grow extremely frustrated with yourself. Finally, you throw back the blankets and stand in your room, walking over to your bookshelf. You keep a small bookshelf in your room for this exact reason. On any occasion, it’s nice to have a selection of your favorites to pick from. You scan the titles and rescan them two more times. Now, it is becoming extremely frustrating. Your body was completely awake! And you are bored.

You creep out into the hallway, checking and listening if anyone is walking about. Sometimes the staff like to recheck a few things here and there and you couldn’t risk being seen in your nightgown. Just to be safe, you throw on a dressing gown and then venture out into the hallway.

You quickly find your way to the library’s doors but they are already open. Funny. You must’ve left them open when you were in here earlier and guess no one had come by to close them. You slip inside and immediately find your way to the book you wanted. It was a larger book with a collection of some of Shakespeare’s best sonnets. You wrap your fingers around the familiar navy spine and pluck it from the shelf.

You turn on your heels to walk out of the library when a man standing facing the shelves stops you dead in your tracts.

It seems Mr. Miller had, too, found himself unable to sleep and he, too, thought to escape to the library.

Your mind goes completely blank as you try to think of what exactly to do. Of course, you could always dart out silently and hope that he doesn’t notice. Or, you could just stand very still and wait until he leaves. Or you could-

“Oh,” He turns around suddenly, taking in your sight. No doubt it’s completely compromising and quite embarrassing, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know anyone else was in here,” He bashfully rubs the back of his neck and you swear, even in the dark, you see a blush fan over his cheeks. You rush to say something, anything, that may smooth over this situation even slightly.

“Please tell me you can’t see very much in the dark,” You wrap your dressing gown around you tighter and use the book to shield anything unsavory.

“Oh, no!” He rushes to comfort you, looking away from your figure, “No, I can’t see anything. Really. Promise.”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Miller,” You manage to force out, still frozen to the spot, “Truly, sorry.”

“It’s alright,” He still avoids looking at your figure and starts to steadily ease towards the library’s doors, “And it’s Joel.”

You pause, the random words entering your ears quite clumsily and you fumble, your mouth getting away from you.

“What?” You ask, calling after him just a bit.

“My name is Joel,” He nods and slips out of the library’s doors, “You can call me Joel.”

Joel.

Joel Miller.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀

Part Three!

[berry-messy-scribbles]

Junkrat having a crush on you - headcanons

Pairing: Junkrat/Jamison Fawkes x GN!Reader

Summary: General headcanons of Jamison Fawkes aka Junkrat having a crush on reader.

Words: 1,500

Tags: SFW; gender-neutral reader; fluff

Warnings/triggers: minor curse words

A/N: "I absolutely adore Junkrat and his expanded characterization in overwatch 2, so I decided to write some headcanons for my favourite pyromaniac. I hope you will enjoy this piece as much as I enjoyed writing it!" - Mod Berry

Oh boy, you bet that there will be a lot of puns involved. You know those interactions, that they added in overwatch 2? From casual puns, they will evolve into cheesy pickup lines. Not to mention, if you show the slightest bit that you do enjoy them or lord forbid, you follow up with an even dorkier response - expect to be smothered in bad puns every time he sees you. Jamison will be more than happy to share with you his special chemistry pickup lines such as:

"Are you carbon monoxide? Cuz ya sure take my breath away!"

"Excuse me darl, but did ya lose an electron? Cuz you are positively attractive!"

"Damn I've never seen a bomb like you! And I make those every day 24/7!"

"Oh, how I wish you were like Avogadro cuz then I would already know your number!"

I imagine he tells them with a full happy grin plastered on his face followed by a wink ;)

Jamison would definitely try too hard to sweep you off your feet by bragging about his and Roadhog's heists or even about their casual shenanigans. Don't worry, Mako makes sure to add realism to those and embarrasses him from time to time, by telling exactly how they went. For example:

"Oi Roadie do you remember the time when I saved both of our asses in Numbani by MY magnificent and strategically thought out plan?"

"You mean that one time you accidentally lit your ass on fire just to confuse the guards and buy us some time to escape? Yeah, that sure was something Rat."

The big man then lets out a hearty chuckle.

*gasp* "Betrayed by my own crime partner!"

At first, it would embarrass the hell out of Jamie. He would desperately try to explain to Mako that his pride and chance at a relationship with you is at stake, but then he sees you laugh, and just like that all his worry instantly disappears. From that very moment, he would tell all the awkward details himself just so he could hear you laugh one more time.

This also includes Junkrat telling you a different story about how he lost his finger, since the first time you have ever asked him about it. You would call him out at any given chance though. However, you appreciated his effort in trying to brighten up your day even if it meant listening to the silliest of tales of Jamison's lost finger.

“Oh, this? This is a painful reminder of my tragic yet complicated past." he follows up with a very expressive pose like the drama queen he is.

"Dude you are literally missing an arm and a leg. How could the finger be the main focus?"

"Y/N I am flattered that you are so invested in my backstory but no spoilers! Even for you. Now, where was I? Ah yes! (...)"

Some of these stories included his supposed memories from the outback. Probably back when he wasn't featured on every wanted poster in Junker Queen's domain.

"I lost me finger to a bunch of fellow junkers in a truth or dare fight in a bar, and you wouldn’t believe that it was because of the truth part!” 

Other times it would be something so ridiculous that you can't help but snort at the simple prospect of that situation ever happening to Jamison.

“There was this one time when I had to wrestle a quokka for my lunch! Don't ever let them fool ya with those big ol' eyes and cutesy faces. I am tellin’ ya those things are bloodthirsty. I got my food back but the little rascal took my finger as revenge!"

"I am not blaming it though, sometimes even I wonder how I taste."

That last part earned him a well-deserved nudge, followed up by a sigh and being called a "dumbass" ( affectionate ) in response.

"Y/N you know that I am messing with you right? Or am I?"

But do not be fooled as this man is far from stupid as everyone likes to think. This man can be a menace to society and still be a genius. I had to include that in the note because I am sick and tired of people brushing it off. You have noticed that not only his craftmanship and his entire workshop reflect that statement but also his special interest, which is drumrolls please - philosophy! Specifically speaking, philosophy of mathematics. His newest interaction with Sigma shows that Jamie is aware of concepts such as Zeno's paradox. But why am I sharing this headcanon with you? That is because I am sure that if Jamison sees that you are interested in what he has to say, ( unless being ignored by like half of the other characters *cough* ) and therefore feel comfortable around you, he will be so excited to infodump you with all sorts of fun facts!

Whenever he sees you worry about his health, whether it would be because of his recklessness on the battlefield or an experiment in his workshop gone wrong Junkrat feels unusual. That is the best way to put it. Not many people care about his well-being. In fact, most of them wish something bad would happen to him or simply ignore his injuries ( I am looking at you Mercy ) so this blonde mess of a guy is used to not even notice the pain in the first place. Jamison tries harder to be more careful knowing that there is a special someone that cares about his safety. The thought of you caring about him that much fills his stomach with butterflies.

Having said that he is still the pyromaniac we know of and Jamison would most definitely use his explosives to create something entirely dedicated to you. That way he gets to demonstrate his engineering skills and show you that he is not an all talk no action kinda guy. There was this one time when he got too carried away though. He carefully prepared everything and showed you the results of his hard work but.. let’s just say... it gave you mixed signals? I mean, how could you possibly feel about bombs arranged in Y/N exploding at a rapid-fire rate just to leave nothing but ashes and flickering flames behind? Jamie was so eager to get any reaction from you but in your mind, you were so confused. Is this supposed to be a threat or a love confession? In Junkrat’s case, it could be both at the same time.

Junkrat gasping for air all proud of himself with what it seems like stars in his eyes after the explosion: “So what do you think? Am I good or what?”

Y/N standing there with wide eyes, while thinking to themself *chuckle* “I am in danger.” It would be rude to leave him with no response so you settled for “Great, it was sure something to see my initials get blown away. Truly a sight I won’t ever forget.”

“Aww Y/N you sure have a way with words.” 

Having said that if you are not the kind of person who likes grand gestures, don’t worry Jamison will understand and won’t bother you with any going forward. He might be one of the most wanted criminals but he still has class.

Speaking of another wanted criminal Jamison would so rant about you to Mako. It happens anywhere at any given moment no matter if it's fitting or not - from their daily hangouts to the dangers of their crime-filled life. I imagine that even when their lives are being threatened Jamie will still make sure to mention how gorgeous and cool you are to Roadhog because something they encountered reminded him of you.

"Oi look Roadie! That is just like the show Y/N was talking about that I need to watch. I wonder what they are up to right now. " while being tied up.

"Rat that is not the time to talk about Y/N we gotta scram."

This would also include Jamison daydreaming about you and losing his focus on the battlefield. Mako was once fed up with that behaviour and had to interfere.

"Look Jamison if you do that one more time there might not be another chance for you to see Y/N so be more careful god dammit."

The sole thought of not being able to see you again was Jamison's driving force to how he puts it "get his shit together" and focus more on his actions. Jamie cares about you a lot and not being able to see you one more time would be his worst nightmare. Your beautiful face, the way you laugh, talk about your special interests and listen to his, the way you sneeze or cup his hands when he is injured or hell even being called a dumbass by you all gone because of his carelessness? Nothing scares him more than the idea of losing you.

[slocumjoe]

Do you have any random headcanons about any of the comapnions that you want to get off your chest?

Oh, 100%. A lot of this is mostly inter-personal headcanons, how they react to each other. Very found-family based, heavily pushing my "Hancock and Danse become besties" agenda. Less based on the individual. Oh, and follows the "all move to Sanctuary" thing, so people who don't like that might not buy in to this.

Companion Headcanon Grab-bag

Cait; Really confused about her sexuality internally. Has changed her mind on her labels so many times. Is she gay? Bi? Pan? Straight? Ace? Sex-repulsed? Hypersexual? She likes sex sometimes and other times she hates the concept. What's her type of person, if any? What does she want out of a relationship? Just sex? What would she need in a partner? Tries to not think about it, so damn confusing. Just follows her whims. Would get on great with an elder queer person, really needs some guidance there. Also, has a fear of monkeys, apes, etc. Jangle toys and those cymbal monkeys. Fucking horrifying.

Codsworth; Babies the other companions like a mom. Putters around the bunkhouse making sure Piper eats something before she's out the door, cleaning up after Hancock's midnight snack, picking MacCready's coat off the back of a chair, hovering to block Danse's view of the coffee pot as Nick adds honey and sugar for him specifically. It's one house with a dozen adults of questionable emotional and mental stability. It's a robot butler's Olympics. Outside of the others...has spent two centuries trying to kill one single radroach. Its the same one, he's sure of it. It lives under the bridge and appears only under a full moon. It is his mortal enemy.

Curie; The most intimidating girl in the bunkhouse, not Cait. Because Curie doesn't put up with any bullshit. You look pale, come here and let—come here and let her feel your forehead. Too hot, you're taking the day off. She'll make you some tea—no, Danse, she doesn't care if that one joint on your Power Armor is bugging you. Bed. Does she need to go get Nick? She'll get Nick. Excellent! What kind of tea would you like? Curie is very sweet and caring, but she’s a hardass when it comes to the health of her compatriots. And you can't just...refuse. Maybe you could, but...no one's ever tried. Even Gage gives up once she smiles and tilts her head, but narrows her eyes. Fucking Gage.

Danse; You can tell he's feeling under the weather, be it mental or physical, if he hides from Curie. Danse ends up getting on pretty well with Hancock, Nick, Cait, and Preston once he's better from BB. Hancock reminds him a lot of Cutler, in some ways. Cait reminds him of many Initiates, hotheaded and eager but lost on their place in the world. Nick mentors him on the synth thing, and he and Preston are very similar. Once he's mostly adjusted from everything, adopts a...questionable wardrobe, things he would have worn in the Brotherhood if not for the uniform. Adores gaudy, odd-patterned shirts, bright colors.

Deacon; After the Institute is dealt with, by any means, and he has something of a support group with Sole and the others...goes back to Deacon. Its hard, it takes a lot of time, but he stops the home-grown identity crisis. He grows his hair out again, gets a charming grey-red stubble. Still likes costumes and such, but he tries to stay the one person, not fake anything. Again, very difficult. But he tries. Has an odd kinship with X6-88. X6-88 tries to figure out his identity, Deacon tries to relearn his. Also gets along better with Danse and Hancock, understands the "who am I" thing. But the real pals? Deacon and Jun Long. Jun's hype man. Gets what he went through; University Point was destroyed long after Deacon left, but that was still his home. And losing his son...Deacon respects that Jun kept chugging. Tries to help him regain his confidence.

Gage; This is a domesticated Gage, as much as Gage can be domesticated. Always has a horrific story that he likes to pepper into conversations. Deacon tries to one-up him, but Gage always wins, partially because Gage is telling the whole-ass truth. Never says anything about himself, though. Socially hovers around Longfellow, really curious about all of his stories. But Gage keeps his distance far, faaaar from everyone else. Marcy Long swung a folding chair at him, his first day visiting Sanctuary. Thinks little of Preston at first, but the moment he notices that they're almost the same person, just on the other side of the coin, has a crisis. Catches himself not criticizing Preston at one point, when he could have, and has to start a fistfight with him to feel better. Gets along great with Shaun and other local kids, who are into his raider stories. Marcy keeps hunting him for sport, though, so he only has a few minutes to talk before a rake goes for the other eye.

Hancock; Opinion of Danse does a complete flip the very second Danse apologizes. Hancock rubbed it all in his face, took schadenfreude in it. Then Danse's mental health dissolved into goo, and it stopped being funny. And then Hancock felt like fucking shit when the racist technofacist was the bigger man who felt terrible looking back on everything. It took time for their relationship to go from hostile, to civil, to friendly, but Hancock is basically a sphinx cat that wants to drape himself over Danse and cuddle all day. Danse, for his part, is grateful that Hancock could forgive him at all. Also, considers MacCready a brother, no exaggeration. Bobby is his little brother, Duncan is his nephew, blood be damned. It's good for him, after what happened with McDonough. Still refuses to process that. He never was on good terms with him, anyway, but...nope, not thinking about it. Doesn't do chems around Duncan, knows Bobby is iffy about it.

MacCready; Really didn't want to introduce Hancock to Duncan, for fear of Duncan having some...lingering memories about Ghouls. Nope. Duncan loves Uncle John to the moon and back. If Hancock isn't hugging on Danse, he's hugging on Duncan. Also befriends Jun, though he feels some guilt at his baby having survived. MacCready spends a lot of his downtime trying to educate himself, reads. Does those school workbooks if he can find them. Is really entertained by the notes left from the students using them, then gets miserable when he thinks about what happened to them. Incredible at any accuracy-based game. Don't challenge this man to ping-pong.

Nick; Resident therapist. Has, in earnest, considered installing a confessions box in the bunkhouse. Just when he thinks he's heard the worst of their lives, Hancock will remember that his brother buried him alive, or Piper mentions that her dad kept twitching at the funeral as they burned him, or Gage says one sentence about an ex-boyfriend. Then he reminds himself, yeah, these kids are Traumatized with a capital T. Wishes he could drink. Has a list of people to check on in order of priority, every week. Preston is first, Gage is last. Both reasons being, both have so many issues, but won't talk about them. Bangs his head on a wall when he notices this. Sits with Codsworth some afternoons and they share a private nervous breakdown. Has considered getting a gen 3 body, but...he'd want a custom, not someone else's, like Curie's situation. And not like OG Nick, either. Himself. Whatever that looks like.

Piper; Not over her parents dying and never will be. She was 14 when her dad died. Mom died giving birth to Nat. Had to be a mom, and then a mom and a dad, when she herself was a kid, still. Clings to the newspaper because it was all she had, her only power as a little girl alone in the Commonwealth with a toddler. Things get easier, but never less painful. Relocating to Sanctuary made things a bit better, especially since McDonough couldn't threaten to throw them out anymore. Jumped and screamed in place when she was proven right about him. Stopped when she noticed Hancock upset. Continued when she was out of his view, but quieter. Befriends everyone to some extent, but Gage. Gage has some...irritating opinions on the press, chief being, "Hey, you got everyone to kill each other, sounds like. What, that weren't the goal?"

No. What kind of name is Porter, anyway? Ugh.

Preston; So much pent up anger and frustration. Will never let it out. The restraint it takes to keep from maiming Gage like a fucking alligator could hold up the Prydwen if made a physical force. Very confused on what Gage thinks of him, though. Seems to change daily. But hey, he's always down to throw Gage out of a window. 10/10 way to spend an afternoon, eagerly looking forward to next time. Goes drinking with Danse often. Keeps an eye on Nick, sends Sturges his way if he starts making odd noises when he moves. Tries to keep some distance from the others. He lost people he thought family on Quincy...and some them, they didn't die. That was the bitterest thing of all, that they lived before anyone else.

X6-88; Has an interest in art but loathe to act on it. Very attached to his coat. Had a father figure in the Institute, was his personal servant. That man was killed by a rogue synth. X6-88 joined the courser program after the funeral. Protective of Shaun, ends up being popular with his child friends/classmates, who are all curious about the tall, dark man who doesn't speak much but holds Shaun's hand. Privately, X6-88 considered himself a child, young, once. Shaun is literally a child synth. That has to be confusing, being the ghost of dead man, made for his living parent. Dislikes Gage the most, dislikes Piper and Danse the least. Learns to respect Preston, even if he disagrees on his philosophies; at least someone on the top was trying to restore the world, even if it wasn't quite working. Has a fondness for sour apple candy.

[not-wholly-unheroic]

I hope to write a full review of Peter Pan and Wendy at some point in the near future once I’ve had the chance to rewatch it a few times, but in the meantime, it makes me sad that so many people seem to have hated it, and I need to just gush about a few of my favorite parts.

(Warning: This list will contain SPOILERS for the film.)

Wendy’s very realistic reaction to having her favorite bedtime story character show up in her bedroom in the middle of the night (“How are you real?!).

The reworking of the “kiss” scene. Although the childhood romance/first love thing between the two of them in most versions is adorable, seeing Wendy sort of mentally panic and scramble to find SOMETHING to give Peter when, after getting hurt, Michael suggests someone give him a kiss to make it better and Peter says he doesn’t know what that is but he thinks he needs one is hilarious and totally something an awkward teen girl would do when confronted with kissing a boy in front of her brothers.

Mr. Smee’s good heart and kindness. Gaffigan’s Smee tries on more than one occasion to shield the kids from the worst of Hook’s wrath and/or scary situations as best he can while still being loyal to Hook. And it is openly acknowledged that there is a sort of father/son relationship between Hook and Smee due to Smee having pulled him from the sea when he was just a boy. Law’s Hook isn’t always good to Smee, but he very much recognizes he wouldn’t be alive without him. It’s also nice to see that although a bit of a dork sometimes, this Smee isn’t stupid, and actually seems pretty perceptive at times.

The sea shanties!!! I love that they found a way to work a few songs into the film without it feeling too out of place in a live-action movie that isn’t a full-on musical. The songs themselves are catchy and the lyrics (which are mostly about things in the deep that will eat you…) serve to remind us of the hellish nightmare Hook lives every day in fear of the crocodile. We also get a nod to the Disney sequel. (Props to the songwriter for managing to work the word “cephalopod” into a song and actually having it fit the rhyme.) Also, the second song arguably has a ticking motif in the slow drum beat.

The crocodile’s appearance and attitude. This thing is terrifying. It’s HUGE. There is absolutely no one in their right mind who wouldn’t run from this creature. While it wants Hook most of all, it isn’t opposed to eating others either (and does apparently nab a few men who get shoved out of the way by Hook or who aren’t fast enough). Also, all the spears sticking out of its hide. Makes me think of Moby Dick. The crew has apparently tried on many occasions to get rid of this crocodile but it refuses to die.

The similarities and differences in Peter’s fight with Hook at Skull Rock as opposed to the animated film. Hook ALMOST steps off a ledge at one point like in the animated version, but Smee is there to grab us coat and pull him back before he can fall. We also get some good shadow sequences like in the animated film…but apparently, Hook’s shadow can harm Peter’s with the effect that Peter himself actually feels it.

Hook’s reaction to the crocodile. His first words on seeing the creature are just a very quiet sort of shaky, “Oh, God….” When it lunges for him at one point, he freezes in terror for a second before his instinct to run kicks back in. This man is traumatized.

Hook and Peter’s relationship. Okay, yeah, I’m upset they went with the very cliche “Hook was a Lost Boy” deal which has been done so many times now in book retellings that it’s not even new or interesting anymore (not to mention Hook really needs to be an Etonian to make him who he is…) BUT I am very pleased at the emotional depth the actors and writers went to here for BOTH of the characters. Hook is still clearly capable of brutality but he’s also deeply wounded. Peter is selfish and cocky like any little boy might be, but he’s not evil and genuinely misses the friend he used to have in James. They weren’t black and white hero/villain tropes. They were complex characters who both dealt with things poorly, and it takes Wendy pushing on their emotional walls and asking hard questions to finally make them see they can stop hurting each other and maybe repair what has been broken.

The quotes they gave Law as Hook. So many good ones that I may make an entirely separate post about it but the entire brig scene with Wendy is gut-wrenching. At first, my reaction was, “Why is he telling her all of this?” But then, I remembered that even Barrie’s Hook has a tendency to monologue and I think part of the reason he tells her so much is simply because she might be the first person other than Smee to actually want to LISTEN to his side of things. (Much as how Tink points out later in the film that Wendy is one of the first people to really hear her.)

Peter actually needing and accepting help. While admittedly, I think they may have leaned into the “girl power” thing a little too heavily in this version, it was nice to see Peter actually realize that he DOES need people in his life and that it’s OKAY to ask for help sometimes.

Everything about the ending. Peter apologizing to Hook and flat-out refusing to fight him. Hook’s initial anger and disbelief. Peter reaching out and grabbing him by the claw to keep him from falling. The pained and terrified look on Hook’s face as he scrambles to come up with just one happy thought and can’t find any. The look of horror from Peter as he watches his former best friend fall to what he assumes will be his death. The fact that Peter MOURNS for him. The symbolism of “Hook” falling away and dying while “James” survives. The little hopeful smile he gives when he sees Peter coming back. UGH! It was SO GOOD!!! 😭 And that’s not even including the emotional scene with Peter and Wendy saying their goodbyes on the rooftop in London.

This film wasn’t without it’s flaws. The pacing was a little off in places, and it doesn’t feel quite like an epic adventure…but BOY, does it have some heart to it.

[prose-for-hire]

I'm super busy today but not busy enough to ignore giving requests to my fav 😏

Trying to get Watcher Wesley to enjoy Halloween :33. And maybe something with Spike 👉👈 - 🏜

You’re the sweetest, thank you sm !! I appreciate you always! 💖🦇

I’ve done Wesley if that’s okay, I have another Spike request that I am gonna post before the end of my little Halloween ficlets!

- You loved Wesley and he was very committed to you

- he adored his job too and it was one of the qualities you adored

- his dedication

- he didn’t dislike Halloween, per se

- he had just never recognised it before

- he had been quite sheltered, primed only to become a Watcher

- some years he had forgotten his own birthday in favour of duty

- but not since he had fallen for you

- you always reminded him to celebrate himself

- and you always made sure he took some time for himself

- because he was a sweet, if sometimes a little awkward man

- and you loved every inch and every sinew

- he always made you feel heard

- except, of course, when you tried to tell him how fun Halloween could be

- at first he insisted that celebrating the demons he helped to slay wasn’t proper

- then he claimed he had more important work to be doing

- until eventually he admitted he felt that he didn’t know how to have fun

- that made you sad and you insisted that you always had fun with him

- even if you both just spent a comfortable silence whilst you both read

- it made you more determined

- to show him just how much fun Halloween could be

- at first, you took him to a haunted house

- you had forgotten to frisk your love for weapons before you went

- after screaming and charging at the threat

- you both ended up scaring the actors and got escorted out

- whilst he apologised profusely

- then you tried apple bobbing

- which led you both having to bob for his glasses when he lost them in the tub

- later that week you made him try a Ouija board with him

- but you both ended up summoning some gross evil force

- that he asked Faith and Buffy if they would deal with for you

- by Halloween, you had run out of ideas

- you had put a bunch of horror movies on and were cuddling with him in bed

- he usually read before bed so you knew that he was humouring your love for Halloween

- you pressed yourself against him

- sliding your hand up his chest and inhaling his scent

- “I wish you liked Halloween” you mumbled

- “I, ah, love Halloween, Y/n”

- “No you don’t!”

- “Truly, I do. Because I love you and you adore it so”

- you kissed him slowly, showing him how much you appreciated the sentiment

- it wouldn’t stop you planning more elaborate Halloween activities each year, you assured him

- but you were satisfied, for now, that he loved you

[bysaber]

would’ve, could’ve, should’ve

Pairing: Dabi x f!Reader

Summary: You remember moments of your relationship with Dabi, regretting it all. Inspired by the song with the same name by Taylor Swift.

Content: angst, toxic relationship, mature content, light smut (brief oral f!receiving) mentions of marking/burning, alcohol, we don’t see Dabi’s side of the story but it is implied he took advantage of reader’s kindness

WC: 1.3k

A/N: I actually had thought about writing this one since I first listened to the song last year but for some reason I never did. Now I wrote it all in… two hours? while listening to it on repeat. I’m super anxious to post this one !! and no beta’d, we die like men.

Licking your lips, you felt the salty taste of your tears mixed with the sweet wine you were now drinking. His large t-shirt engulfed your body as you sat on the floor with nothing but a bottle and a cigarette.

“Who am I?”, a whisper escaped from your lips, blurry eyes scanning your room.

The worst thing about being left behind was having to face the remains of those who left you.

And that's what you had to deal with, day after day.

Dabi was gone, but he was everywhere.

His toothbrush in your bathroom, untouched. His clothes in your wardrobe, never washed - you can still smell him as if he was standing by your side.

No, as if your nose is deeply pressed against his neck inhaling his scent like you did all the times he had his arms wrapped around you - touching, kissing, fucking. Needing. You always needed each other all too much.

“No,” you say aloud. “I needed you. Alone.”

His fingerprints are burnt into your headboard. A vivid reminder of the night you felt too much, the night he came inside you so hard he lost control of his Blue Flame and left his mark on your bed.

“I actually like it,” he said afterwards, the same fingertips now pressed on your waist firmly. “It’s a constant reminder of who you belong to.”

“Are you saying you marked your territory?”, you scoffed, trying to push him with a smile on your face. Dabi pulled you harder against him, brushing his nose on your cheek before biting on your jaw.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” he licked the skin where he just had bitten and laughed teasingly. “I want my fingerprints burnt on your skin next.”

The memory hit you like a truck.

You quickly pulled a pillow from the bed at your side and screamed into it, the air leaving your lungs at how loud you screamed. But it wasn’t enough.

You screamed again, again. And again.

Your screams weren't purging the pain.

Your throat was sore already, and you took three big gulps of the wine to try and ease it all.

Your mind felt foggy,

and yet–

All you saw was Dabi.

Dabi. Dabi. Touya.

“I don’t like alcohol.”

“Yeah?”, the dark-haired smiled, putting down his beer. “Why?”

“It makes me act like I’m not myself. And I black out super quick,” you already had your answers ready. “And the terrible hangovers.”

Dabi laughed, truly, honestly laughed. He looked around the diner you chose to eat with him – somewhere empty so no one would see the both of you.

Not only because he was a wanted man. But because he was so different from you, and people would talk if they saw the two of you together.

Your friends would talk, your family would.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Nothing, it's just…”, he laughed a little more. “You said alcohol makes you act like you're not yourself. I guess I do the same.”

If only you had listened, you would've escaped him. You could have. You should have.

But you stayed. You stayed because he made you feel things you’ve never felt before, he made you feel important and alive. He gave you the thrill to live.

The way Dabi looked at you, you could never forget– his half-lidded gaze, always full of lust and passion, as if there were nothing in the world he wanted more.

The way Dabi spoke to you at different moments of the day, teasingly or just so full of confidence. Sometimes, you could swear his voice was filled with adoration.

“What a beautiful thing like you is doing in a place like this at 1 a.m.?”

It was the first thing Dabi ever said to you.

As you were sitting alone at the docks near your apartment, your feet swinging above the water, he came to you. The presence of another person, especially a man, scared the shit out of you, so you immediately stood up and faced him – you took his appearance fully in the faint light and you remember thinking how handsome he was, scarred and everything.

Scary, yes. But handsome.

“I didn't realize it was so late. I’m going to meet my boyfriend,” you lied, afraid he might do something bad.

A smirk appeared on his lips, “Sure, doll. Want me to keep you company until you meet this boyfriend of yours?”

You shivered and stepped back, “No. I’d like to be going by myself, thank you.”

When Dabi noticed you were genuinely scared, he dropped the act right away, “Look, doll. I ain’t gonna hurt you. But I’d rather take you out of here before a guy worse than me finds you.”

Worse than me, you noticed.

“Let me take you home, will you? Because shit’s about to go down here,” he confessed.

“Right… okay,” you said mostly because you didn't know what to do. Whatever was about to go down, you wanted nothing to do with it.

“That’s a good girl,” he praised and you immediately lowered your head to hide your tinted cheeks. If he noticed, he never commented on it, “While we’re on it, why don't you tell me why you’re here so late, huh? No boyfriend shit, angel.”

What were you doing there, again?

Ah, yeah.

You went there because you had an anxiety crisis – college stuff. You were nineteen years old.

College. Fuck, you dropped it months ago.

Why did you do it, again? You can't remember.

Something about working for real to buy a house. For you and Dabi.

A strangled sound scares you, but then you realize it's the sound of your own laugh. Choked, painful, bitter.

“Dabi!”, his name leaves your lips as a prayer.

“Say it again, doll,” he demanded, stopping his worship just to talk to you. “Say my name.”

You cried out his name countless times, his tongue circling your clit teasingly while two of his fingers fucked you the way he knew you liked all too well. When you faintly cried, “Touya…”, he rutted pathetically against the mattress as he sucked on you.

His fingers were quickly out of you, both of his arms around your legs, pulling your cunt closer to his face. In one quick glance, there was devotion. “I want you making a mess on my face, got it, doll?”

“Fuck you, Dabi,” you barked to the empty room, your words slurred.

You refused to call him Touya. He wasn't Touya to you. Not now. Not anymore.

He wasn't anyone to you.

“Fuck you, fuck you.”

You stood up, immediately regretting it as everything pinned around you. Closing your eyes, you tried to count to ten before walking towards the bathroom. What you saw in the mirror scared you; a ghost of who you used to be.

You were messy. You were a mess. You doubted your value and you felt ugly in every way possible – inside and out. The bags under your eyes and the way you were neglecting your appearance didn't help your self-esteem.

Dabi left two months ago. How could you possibly still be so miserable?

Rage filling your chest, you went back to your room and grabbed your phone. You wouldn't call him – the idea of hearing his voice made you want to puke from anxiety. But you would text him, yes. You needed to hurt him as much.

You needed to.

As you opened your messages with him, you saw it – the last texts you sent.

please.

don’t do this

touya. please, come back

touya?

I miss you.

He never opened them. It angers you even more as you type:

I hwte you. I hate you for all you did to mw

I regret you all thw time

I miss who I wss befpre I met you

I cant let this go

After months with nothing from him, your heart drops when the messages immediately go from sent to read.

[nidhi-writes]

Avalathu Kalvan (VanMozhi one shot)

Vaanathi, the princess of Kodumbalur, sat by her palace window in Thanjai, the capital of the Chola Kingdom. She gazed out, lost in thought, remembering her teenage years when she faced relentless bullying.

Her vision transformed into the memory of her first time in Pazhaiyarai.

She was a young girl sitting on the riverbed, tears streaming down her face. Her parents had passed away, leaving her orphaned. The other children taunted her, calling her an "unlucky princess" and shunning her from their games and conversations. The loneliness and despair weighed heavily on her young heart, and she often found solace in the quiet company of the river.

As Vaanathi recalled those painful memories, she felt a deep sadness wash over her. Despite her royal status, she had known great sorrow and hardship. But she also remembered the inner strength that had carried her through those dark times, which had helped her endure and persevere.

As she sat by the Ponni River in Pazhayarai, the gentle water flow calmed her nerves, and Vaanathi felt a familiar anxiety creeping in. She had barely arrived and already met the kind Chola princess Kundhavai, who had welcomed her warmly. But amidst the new surroundings and the friendly faces, Vaanathi couldn't shake off the fear of the unknown.

She was anxious about meeting Arunmozhi Varman, the youngest royal of the Chola Kingdom, who was adored by all. She had heard so much about him, his kindness, and his charisma. She couldn't help but secretly admire him from afar, though she had never seen him.

"What if he doesn't like me?" she thought, her heart skipping at the mere idea of meeting him. She knew she had to make a good impression, but her nerves got the best of her as she sat by the river, lost in her thoughts.

As the evening sky started to darken and the birds began to bid goodbye, Vaanathi's heart thumped with the possibility of doing something wrong. 

As she was lost in her thoughts, Vaanathi suddenly heard the sound of hooves approaching. She turned to see a teenage boy riding his horse towards her with admiring eyes. Startled by the sudden interruption to her solitude, Vaanathi quickly stood up. She felt disappointed that her peaceful moment by the river had been disrupted abruptly. The boy looked at her with a warm smile, his eyes reflecting the fading light of the day. He dismounted from his horse and approached her, his gaze never leaving her face.

"You looked like a beautiful nymph, lost in the beauty of the evening sky," he said softly, his voice hinting at admiration.

Vaanathi felt her cheeks flush at the compliment. She had never been compared to a nymph before and wasn't sure how to respond. She looked down, feeling suddenly shy under his gaze.

Vaanathi quickly let go of her shyness and stood straight, reminding herself of her status as a princess. Despite her initial shyness, she tried to sound harsh when she asked the boy who he was. However, her innocent voice came out more like a kitten meowing.

The boy, amused, laughed but quickly composed himself. "I am a stable boy working in the palace," he replied.

As Vaanathi heard the boy's explanation, her eyes narrowed. For a stable boy, he looked remarkably polished and well-kept. She couldn't help but admire how he cared for himself, even in his role.

"I see," Vaanathi said, trying to maintain her composure. "As a stable boy, you seem to take great pride in your appearance."

The boy smiled, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Appearances can be deceiving; sometimes, things are not as they seem."

Curious, the boy asked, "And who might you be?"

Vaanathi hesitated momentarily before replying, "I am Vaanathi, Princess of Kodumbalur."

"Princess," the boy repeated with a hint of surprise. "It's an honour to meet you, Princess Vaanathi."

Vaanathi slightly let go of her fake seriousness and smiled as she relaxed at the boy's gaze before her. She sat down and looked at the space beside her, indicating that he would sit beside her.

The boy understood the silent invitation and sat beside her, leaving a respectful distance between them. They sat silently momentarily, watching the river flow gently past them.

"It's peaceful here," the boy said, breaking the silence. "I often come here to escape the hustle and bustle of the palace."

Vaanathi nodded, enjoying the tranquillity of the moment. She opened up to this stranger despite knowing very little about him.

"I come here to find solace," she admitted softly. "Being a princess can be lonely at times."

The boy looked at her with understanding in his eyes. "I understand. Even though I'm just a stable boy, I often feel the weight of expectations on my shoulders."

They sat in companionable silence, each lost in their thoughts. Despite their different backgrounds, Vaanathi felt a connection with the boy beside her, which went beyond their titles and positions.

"But what's troubling you, princess, if you don't mind me asking?" he said, looking at her face admiringly, taking in her eyes, lips, nose, and everything about her.

Vaanathi exhaled slowly, relieved to confide in someone. She closed her eyes briefly, taking a deep breath before speaking.

"From the time of my birth, I have always believed that I bring bad luck to the people I love," she admitted her voice barely above a whisper. "My parents passed away when I was young, and I have always felt responsible for their deaths. I fear anyone close to me will suffer the same fate."

The boy listened intently, his gaze soft and understanding. He reached out and gently took her hand in his, offering her comfort and reassurance.

"It's not your fault, princess," he said softly. "Bad things happen to everyone, but that doesn't mean you're cursed. Sometimes, we have to believe that things will get better."

Vaanathi felt a warmth spread through her at his words. For the first time in a long time, she felt a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, her luck was about to change.

"So, as a Kodumbalur princess, what brought you to Pazhayarai?" he asked, his curiosity evident.

Vaanathi raised an eyebrow at his question. For a stable boy, he sure did talk a lot. She decided to indulge him with an answer.

"Well, I am here to meet the royals, and I've already met the princess," she replied. "But I am nervous for tomorrow, as I will meet the two Princes of Chola Desam."

The boy nodded, understanding her apprehension. "Meeting royalty can be intimidating, but I'm sure you'll do just fine."

Vaanathi smiled gratefully at his words. Despite his humble station, the boy's words were comforting, and she felt a sense of calm wash over her.

"Thank you," she said softly.

The boy smiled back, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Well, I am just a stable boy, but if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here."

Vaanathi hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "I am nervous because this is the first time I will meet Arunmozhi Varman, whom I am meant to marry."

The boy's eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly recovered and smiled at her. "Why nervous if you are going to marry him?" he asked.

Vaanathi sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. "What if he doesn't like me? I am not the strongest nor the most beautiful. I am just an orphan princess with nothing else to offer."

The boy gently took her hand, offering her comfort. "You are more than your titles, Princess Vaanathi. You have a kind heart and a gentle spirit. Prince Arunmozhi will see that and cherish you for who you are."

Vaanathi smiled, touched by his words. Despite being just a stable boy, he had a way of making her feel valued and understood.

The stable boy reached into his bag, which he always carried, and pulled out something that caught Vaanathi's curiosity. She watched closely as he turned around, asking her to open her palm and close her eyes. She did so hesitantly, feeling something round and cold placed in her hand.

"Open your eyes," he said gently.

Vaanathi opened her eyes to find a beautiful golden ball in her palm. She gasped, her eyes widening in surprise. This looked expensive.

The boy smiled at her reaction. "I crafted this from bits of gold I collected since childhood," he explained. "I always carried it with me. It brings me calm and serves as a lucky charm."

"You should keep it for tomorrow, for good luck," he suggested, noticing Vaanathi's apprehension about the upcoming meeting with the Chola princes.

Vaanathi shook her head, hesitant to accept such a precious gift from a stranger. But the boy persisted, his eyes filled with sincerity.

"I insist," he said softly. "It's just a small token of my appreciation for your kindness and for sharing your story with me."

Vaanathi looked at the golden ball in her hand, feeling touched by the boy's gesture. Despite his humble status, he was willing to give her something precious. She closed her fingers around the golden ball, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort wash over her.

"Thank you," she said softly, her voice filled with gratitude.

The stable boy smiled at her and slowly bid her goodbye. As he turned to leave, Vaanathi couldn't help but ask, "How can I meet you again to return this golden ball to you?"

The boy turned back, his smile warm and reassuring. "I will come before you when I want it back," he said cryptically.

With that, he left, disappearing into the fading light of the day. Vaanathi watched him go, her heart filled with hope and happiness. She knew their paths would cross again, and she looked forward to the day when she could return the golden ball to him.

As the next morning dawned, Vaanathi got ready for the day ahead. She dressed in her finest attire, the golden ball safely tucked away in a pocket close to her heart. Just as she was about to leave her chambers, Princess Kundhavai entered, her face beaming excitedly.

"Good morning, Vaanathi!" Kundhavai exclaimed. "Are you ready for the meeting with the princes?"

Vaanathi nodded, returning Kundhavai's smile. Together, they made their way to the royal court, where the meeting would occur. Vaanathi's heart fluttered with nervous anticipation, but she felt a sense of calm knowing that she carried the golden ball with her, a reminder of the kind and hopeful encounter she had with the stable boy by the river.

As they entered the royal court, Vaanathi held the golden ball tightly, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. She thought of the stable boy and his kind smile, finding comfort in the memory. Suddenly, her thoughts were interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

Startled, Vaanathi looked up to see a tall boy a few years older than her looking down at her with a smirk. "Please don't be Arunmozhi, please don't be Arunmozhi," Vaanathi prayed silently, but the boy seemed to hear her and chuckled. Kundhavai, who was beside her, laughed as well.

"Don't worry, this is not Arunmozhi," Kundhavai reassured her. "This is Aditha Karikalan, my and Arunmozhi's elder brother."

"Sorry to disappoint you, my dear princess," Aditha joked, extending a hand to welcome her. Vaanathi smiled sheepishly, relieved that it wasn't Arunmozhi.

Kundhavai then asked about their brother, and all heads turned to the footsteps behind them. Vaanathi's eyes met with familiar ones, the eyes that made her feel calm and safe, the face that made her blush. Standing before her was the stable boy. Before Vaanathi could speak to him, Kundhavai looped her arm through his and brought him closer.

"Vaanathi, meet my little brother, Arunmozhi," Kundhavai introduced.

Vaanathi's heart raced. How could the stable boy be a prince? Her anxiety soared, and her vision started to blur. Before she could collapse, Arunmozhi caught her, his smile warm as he gently caressed her hair.

Flashback Ends

The now slightly older Vaanathi chuckled at her memory as she rolled the golden ball between her palms. "What made my queen so happy?" a voice called out. She looked up to see her husband, the great King Arunmozhi Varman, standing tall and strong with a face filled with love.

"I was thinking about a stable boy who captured my heart," Vaanathi replied, smiling at him.

"A stable boy?" Arunmozhi feigned hurt. "Where is this stable boy? I will have his head!" he joked, and they both laughed as they cuddled each other.

"Careful, my King," Vaanathi teased. "I am currently pregnant with his baby."

Arunmozhi gasped jokingly. "What?!"

Vaanathi Nodded as she laughed at her husband, to which ArunMozhi wiggled his eyebrows.

'What?' Vaanathi questioned. ‘Well, I am waiting for the princess to return the golden ball. She borrowed it from the stable boy," he said, and Vaanathi shook her head, stating, "The princess has now become queen, so her rules, as she has already given heart." She whispered as she closed their distance, and their lips met.

She knew they were destined to be together no matter where their journey started, ruling their kingdom with love and compassion.

Ohh! I am in love with the above AI art; it just gives me a peek at the romance that post-marriage VanMozhi would have had.

@whippersnappersbookworm  @harinishivaa @thelekhikawrites  @willkatfanfromasia  @yehshuhua  @arachneofthoughts  @vibishalakshman @nspwriteups  @thirst4light  @hollogramhallucination   @celestesinsight ​  @curiousgalacticsoul  @themorguepoet @tranquilsightseer @nature-writes29

[johnnysslaughter]

hi! i’m sorry if i’m not the anon you meant but i just wanted to say that i really like your take on johnny. matt dillon for a face claim was honestly such a good choice because they look so alike and in a lot of dillon’s films there’s some clips that’d be perfect for johnny. also the really cool leland blog using matt dillon for a face claim too made me think of leland eventually turning into johnny like in that one verse. the massive differences in the roles that matt’s played and the difference between leland and johnny but at the end of the day it’s the same actor and in that one verse johnny makes leland think that he isn’t different from him at all. i just think it’s cool

but i hope you’re ok and i really hope you still writing because you capture how scary johnny is so well. just how incredibly messed up in the head he is

i hope you enjoy rush week when it comes out

i forgot this part but you need to listen to the misfits because they fit johnny so well. they’re a 1970s punk band that sing about cannibalism sometimes

you & all the other cute anons are exactly what i meant... i wanna adopt you, you guys are adorable & i want to wrap you up in a nice warm blankie & protect you from the world. this is me rn below btw if you care --

im really glad that you like what i'm doing with him! listen, when the gun interactive team said that johnny was made based off matt, the way that i nearly lost my mind, i'm telling you what!! should have been there that day, it was a very affirming day. WEBFKJEB but yes exactly!! kels and i using matt dillon in respective movies to capture our characters separately in roles that fit the character a bit more than others -- us also knowing they do become one in the same, different sides of the same coin, much like in some of the Dire Verses. that was actually a complete accident to happen -- but one that could be a lot of symbolism, knowing too that johnny & leland are meant to be parallels of a sort, especially in those verses.

dont you worry, sweet anon, i am still writing. i've went through some health spells & been going through a rough time mentally the last couple days ( still going through it ) but i will be okay. <3 Thank you tremendously for this compliment of a message!! I am incredibly honored to have received such a message, honestly!

I hope you enjoy rush week as well... i can't wait to dig up more Lore from it & make it our own!

and yesss the misfits are such a good band! i do listen to them & i have them scattered in some playlists pertaining to johnny. i highly recommend Koffin Kats !! they're modern, but they have such good 70s/80s/ retro punk rockabilly feel -- they sung my pinned song, which is about t/cm, & have a lot more "morbid" songs within the similar nature. if you have any music reccs, i'd love to take a listen! i love when people share some music that reminds them of me or my characters, etc! or hell, even what has been stuck in your head lately. i always love sharing things like that!

[cherryheairt]

Even Cregan, who smiled sometimes in his sleep, seemed to have pleasant dreams.

Cregan was probably smiling in his dreams because they were only suitable for those over 18 and included the memories of Daenys' legs, as well as the memory of her nakedness.

His infatuation with the dragon appeared to be some sort of puppy love.

Dusk is very much aligned and in tune with Cregan's feelings. It is obvious that Dusk's fascination with Daenys began at the same time Cregan began to fall in love with her. Now that Cregan has internally acknowledged his love for her, it makes sense that Dusk would choose to sleep next to Morningstar.

My wife's honor is as sacred as mine, to father a child that was not hers would be unforgivable."

It's as if Cregan is a male bird spreading his feathers to show the female that he would be a good mate for her. However, Cregan's sense of loyalty and fidelity to his future wife makes sense, since wolves in the wild form monogamous pairs until one of them dies or is lost.

She smiled in reminisce. "You remind me of him, slightly."

This makes sense. Although the phrase "opposites attract" has become popular in popular culture to describe when two people of different temperaments are sexually attracted to each other, unfortunately this can only be applied to magnets. Actually, it has been widely proven by psychological, anthropological and sociological studies that people fall in love with what is familiar to them. That is why people who grow up in dysfunctional families tend to repeat this pattern with their future partners and find it very difficult to leave these toxic relationships.

"Mm. Perhaps it is my audience, then. In front of my septas, their stares were so intense that I nearly cried when practicing in front of them. My dragon does not judge as they do, she sings along."

I am sure that the next audience Daenys will be singing for will be her future children. Surely when Daenys disappears for a long time, Cregan will only have to look for her in the babies' nursery and there he will find her singing to them.

"Cregan, please. I need you." She whimpered, cold tears falling onto his face as she leaned over him.

I'm sure Cregan was dreaming of something like this, but surely he had Daenys crying out of pleasure and not out of fear or anguish.

"I love you, my sweet dreamer. It would truly kill me to see you at the mercy of some old and cruel Lord, who would keep you from happiness. If that makes me a selfish man, then so be it. But at least I am an honest one."

Awww! At last Cregan told her, it was so cute, sweet and above all, sincere. It's obvious that man is dying of love for Daenys and has been for a long time.

"How could I not? All I have seen, I adore. Do not simplify your entire being to your dreams–that is merely one part of you."

With such a declaration of love something tells me that Cregan's dreams included Daenys pregnant or holding his baby in her arms.

Return to me safely, Princess. That's all I ask of you."

It was obvious that Cregan's heart was bleeding at having to be separated from his other half. The good thing is that Daenys' heart knows she belongs with Cregan, even if she is too unsure of herself to accept it.

ahaha maybe he was. quite like anthony bridgerton and kate sharma in that one hunting scene 🫣

The wolf of the north (cregan) protects the lightbringer (daenys) just as dusk insists on protecting Morningstar (although she's the being being in westeros who needs it).

yes, i love wolf pack parallels! the dragons of westeros are also seen to be monogamous, like Vermithor and silverwing and caraxes and syrax. I think they both hold a lot of anger to their parents for siring bastards, knowing the kids from the affairs are the ones that suffer from it.

unfortunately that is very true, people with toxic parents often find partners who act the same way. I'm glad Daenys had good parents, or maybe she'd have been with aegon lol

Daenys would be quite unlike other noblewoman mothers. They usually tend to distance themselves from their babes after their birth and leave them to wetnurses and septas. I think, because of her dislike for septas and a want to be close to her babes, she would personally nurse them and oversee their teachings.

LMAO i feared that her words when waking her up sounded a bit double-meaninged, but they were all i could think of

I'm glad you liked the confession scene! Daenys did not get her own yet, seeing as the news was a total mood killer, but I also think she has to figure out her emotions for him a bit more. she sees him as her pillar and associates him with many good things (seen more next chap), but doesn't know that is it as intense as love yet. especially with her stress and mourning.