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starlightkun · 7 months

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

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

“Hard to forget,” you snorted.

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

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 24

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”

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

“So she was lying about doing something?”

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah! Sungchan, save me!”

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

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 25

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

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

Text notification from Jung Sungchan?

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

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

[jung sungchan: Congrats, Y/N!]

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

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

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

‘Y/N and Sungchan:

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

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

Dr. Son.’

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

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

‘Dr. Son:

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

Y/L/N Y/N.’

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

[you: thanks, sungchan!]

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

MONDAY, OCTOBER 27

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

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

“Hi, Y/N.”

“Are you here to study or something?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, yeah, nah.”

“Why not?”

“Didn’t seem worth it,” you shrugged.

“What?”

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

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

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

“Huh.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” Sungchan’s eyes widened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right.”

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

“…Reading Edgar Allan Poe.”

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

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

“But still… you’re so…”

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

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

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

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

“For what?”

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

“Uhm, that’s about it.”

“Oh come on, Sungchan.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thursday?”

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

“Oh. Right.”

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

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

“A bit,” Sungchan jested back.

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

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

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

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

“I’ve uh, got some homework to do.”

“Guess this is where we part ways then.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, well—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[you: bro???]

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

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

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

[you: so you’re not coming with me]

[chenle: no <3]

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 30

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does he always suck?”

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

Sicheng blocked Ten’s shot.

“2 is Mark, center.” His went in.

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

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

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

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

“If you don’t shut up—”

“Oh! All net!”

“Isn’t that a basketball—”

“Hey, you got your earplugs, right?”

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

“Good, because uh, it’ll get loud.”

“I figured.”

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

Your eyes widened in realization, “Oh god.”

“Here they come!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And…?”

You tilted your head, “And?”

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

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

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

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

“Walked, my apartment is close.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I see.”

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

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

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

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

“I’ll keep you on speed dial, then.”

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

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

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

“Ew…” You wrinkled your nose.

“But they’re always a lot of fun.”

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

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

“Okay, cool.” You bit your lip.

“Cool,” he echoed.

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

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

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

He joked, “Curfew?”

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

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

“Yeah, of course.”

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

“When?”

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

“Fascinating phrasing,” you snickered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded in assent.

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

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

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

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

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

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 31

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

“Hard to forget,” you snorted.

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

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

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

“Then what was it like?”

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

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

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

“Famous last words...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So you did find a costume.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.” One of them nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“Y/N’s not like that.”

“And denial’s a river in Egypt.”

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

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

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

“Hey, I’m standing up for women—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh, yes? Sorry?”

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

“What’s—”

But Chenle was already gone.

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

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

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

The person knocked again, harder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait, really?”

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

“Right.”

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

“How he got the invite.”

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

“Holy shit,” Sungchan breathed out.

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

“Wait is that how you met Jeno?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

“Is there anything else you need? Water?”

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

“Oh. Will do.”

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

“Sungchan.”

“Yes?”

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

“Do you want me to go?”

“…No.”

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

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

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

“What do you need? Your bag?”

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

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

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm?”

Too late.

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

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

“Better. A lot better, thanks.”

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

“Good morning.”

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

“…Sungchan?”

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“Oh… don’t worry about it.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Medication,” you nodded.

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

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

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

“The music...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

“Oh. You’re dressed.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Mark had a Breathalyzer and everything.”

“Wow…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Blood sugar too?”

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

Sungchan let out a deep breath. “Wow…”

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.” He grinned.

“Okay.” You repeated. “Text me?”

“Yes, yes. I will.”

“Bye.”

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

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

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

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

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, of course.”

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

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

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

“It’s very thoughtful, thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We should go somewhere else.”

“Like where?”

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

“Are you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

You snickered. “Smart man.”

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

“Well...”

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

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

“You’re not in a frat...”

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

“Sungchan, come on!” You pleaded.

“Hendery swore me to secrecy...”

“Well now you have to tell me!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sungchan?” You murmured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ahh…” He hissed regretfully.

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

“I can’t get my dick out in public.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, sir,” Sungchan replied.

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

“N-No, sir.” His voice cracked again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t recall.”

“Sure.”

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

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

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

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 6

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“DD!” Jeno cheered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay. Go for it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then why did you walk me home?”

“To spend more time with you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always the Bible.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi.” He said quietly.

“Hi,” you replied, just as quiet.

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

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

“Oh uh, I guess I haven’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Will do.”

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

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

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

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

“So polite,” you quipped.

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

➠ sequel | series masterlist | blog masterlist

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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year

Text

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR TWO

in which eddie munson and you absolutely hate each other's guts. what happens when your friends make a bet that you can't spend more than twenty four hours consecutively together?

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, eventual smut, upside down does not exist, minors dni, eddie is especially mean in this one (be warned), mentions of blood (in metaphors, not literal)

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader

→ wc: 4k+

→ a/n: i just wanted to take a quick moment to say thank you for all the love on the first chapter of this!! i appreciate it beyond words <3

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

2:00 ─ㅇ───────────────── 24:00

HOUR TWO - 5:00 PM

It’s a miracle. Eddie is surprisingly quiet for the first hour after your small kitchen dispute.

He resides reading a book on one end of his couch as you sit awkwardly on the other end, fiddling with your hands before finally caving and deciding to scroll mindlessly on your phone. You exhaust every social media app you have downloaded – Instagram, Twitter, Tumblr – before finally turning to Tik Tok. Adjusting your volume doesn’t even cross your mind.

That’s all it takes to finally set Eddie off.

It starts small; he shifts around after the first video, a prolonged sigh after the second video, a quick side-eye after the third video. Finally, after the fourth video and no sign of you turning down the volume, he huffs and snaps his book shut.

“Do you have to watch that shit so loudly?”

His tone is laden with utter annoyance. You’re caught off guard initially, having blatantly ignored his previous signs of being irritated by the noise, and your head whips up in his direction with wide eyes. The shocked look on your face quickly contorts when you catch his stare, full of hatred and vexation.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you scoff, “Let me just die of boredom I guess.”

“I didn’t say you had to do that,” he narrows his gaze and matches your attitude with ease, “Just… solve the boredom quietly. Like I did.”

“You were quiet because you had a book. I don’t have a book.”

He waves an exasperated hand towards the coffee table where you catch sight of a few magazines, “Please, take your pick.”

You lock your phone reluctantly, tucking it beneath your thigh as you lean forward to glance over your options. There’s one about cars, obvious by the shiny vehicle that sits pretty on the cover, and a few hidden beneath it. You reach out and shift the laminated papers about and catch sight of a Rolling Stone cover.

That one piques your interest, but stubborn as ever, you won’t admit it.

“Those are the most boring fucking magazines I’ve ever seen. Who the hell likes to read about cars?” you deadpan, holding the car magazine up with a scowl.

“Me.”

“Predictable. What’s next, a Playboy?”

“You’re hilarious,” he says without a hint of amusement, “Truly a comedian. Can’t you just see the tears streaming out of my eyes from how hard I’m laughing? Incredible.”

You decide to not entertain him any further. Your hand grabs the Rolling Stone magazine, ignoring his burning gaze before you settle back into the couch.

If he wanted to be a dick, that was fine. You were used to it by now; you’d spent the last year growing accustomed to his cold shoulders and his bitter moods around you. At this point, you expected nothing less from him. Spending a little extra time together didn’t magically change it – at both your cores, you harbored a disdain like no other. You fundamentally hated Eddie, and Eddie fundamentally hated you. The confined space, forced proximity, ticking doomsday clock, and promise of cash did nothing to put any notches in those feelings.

“Interesting choice,” he murmurs under his breath, beginning to relax back into the cushions as well.

“What? Is it a crime for me to like-” you pause, flipping the magazine shut to check the slick cover for what the specific issue was even about, “-The Ramones?”

So maybe saying you liked The Ramones was an overstatement. But at this point, you’re only picking a fight for the sake of picking a fight. Because you don’t know how else to communicate with Eddie aside from with a sharp tongue and turbulent sense of sarcasm. Because when it came to the two of you, there was no such thing as small talk.

Everything was always big. Loud. Screaming matches, bold assumptions, critical insults.

“Pump the bitch breaks,” his eyebrows furrow, as they always do when he glances your way, “I was trying to be civil.”

“I didn’t think civil was in your vocabulary when it came to me.”

He exhales deeply, letting his head fall back in contempt for a moment before he lifts it and looks at you, “Is this really how you want it to be?”

You don’t reply, and he takes it as his cue to continue.

“Do you really want to keep up the miserable act the entire twenty four hours? Won’t it get exhausting acting like a spoiled brat for that long?”

“I’m not acting like a spoiled brat,” you snap, the magazine now discarded and draped across your knee, open to a random spread, “As far as I’m concerned, it’s not an act. Make no mistake, Munson, I am only doing this for the cash.”

His book lays to gather dust on the coffee table as he leans his elbows onto his knees, twisting his body ever so slightly to face you more fully, “Really? There’s gotta be easier ways to make cash. I’m sure if you asked Stevie boy real nicely, he would have let you put that mouth to use for a quick buc-”

You cut him off, because you know how this sentence ends, and it’s too far. He’s crossed a line. You had expected it, should have seen it coming sooner, but it’s crossing a line all the same.

“Stop,” you firmly instruct, holding up a finger, “Not that it’s any of your miserable business, but me and Steve are not like that. At all. So you can fuck right off with that comment,” you only pause briefly, and you’re glad when he doesn’t interrupt you, “And, may I remind you, you’re also getting payment out of this. I could say the same thing to you, dickwad.”

It had been a curious itch beneath your skin – you knew why you needed the extra cash so badly, but you had no idea why Eddie did. Beneath all the hate, all the irritation, the question had come to mind briefly. But it had been pushed down by disinterest in all things regarding the man before you. At the end of the day, you didn’t care what motivated him. You didn’t care about what he did for work, you didn’t care about what magazines he read, and you definitely didn’t care to know if the five hundred was as necessary for him as it was for you.

This was a means to an end – nothing more, nothing less.

“Dickwad?” His nose crinkles as he parrots your words back to you, “Jesus, did you ever learn any new insults past middle school?”

You’re ignoring him once more, picking the magazine up off of your knee and burying your nose in an article about the greatest punk albums of all time rather than letting yourself be dragged into further conversation with him, trying to send the message that this discussion was over.

The message isn’t received. It flies right over his head.

“Pardon me for the assumption,” you can see him hold his hands up in mock surrender in your peripherals, “You and Harrington just seem close.”

You should just keep ignoring him. You should actually read the words inches from your face. You shouldn’t say another word; your gut is screaming at you to not say another word.

But you ignore your gut, just as he’d ignore your disinterest in talking to him.

“What happened to being quiet? I think I liked it better when you weren’t speaking to me,” you try to say casually, keeping an air of indifference. You should have known better. As your mother always said, once you start feeding a stray, they continue to come back.

“Sounds like it’s a sore spot. Are you and Harrington that close?”

“Not in that way,” you grit out behind the pages, “We’re close, but not like that.”

Your answer doesn’t satisfy him like you’d hoped, “Oh, it is so a sore spot.”

When you finally drop the magazine to properly look at him again, it only fans the anger. He looks smug as he crosses his ankle atop his knee, leaning back and looking you over as if he can read you like cellophane.

“It’s not,” you stress, “Seriously. Drop it.”

In all truthfulness, it wasn’t a sore spot – not when it came to Steve. You’d always been strictly platonic, fitting fairly effortlessly into his and Robin’s friendship.

“You definitely want to fuck Steve.”

“You know what I actually want right now?”

“Please, enlighten me.”

“To knock your teeth in.”

The magazine is tossed back onto the table, nearly sliding off the edge from the force behind your throw. He’s relishing the way you’re continuing to get more upset, the way he’s still inching beneath your skin in a grating motion. To him, this is all just a joke.

“I’d love to see you try, sweetheart,” he mocks, smiling with his teeth as if to taunt you.

“Why did you even agree to this?” you finally turn your body towards his and mirror his position, “Is it fun to you? Is that what it is?”

The smile widens, “You know what? Yeah. It is fun to piss you off.”

“Yeah?” you imitate him, putting on a forced smile in an attempt to look as ridiculous as he did right now. You fold your hands and prop your elbows onto your knees, continuing to mock mercilessly as you balance your chin atop them and bat your lashes dramatically, “Please, tell me more. Tell me all about how fun it is.”

In an instant, you drop the smile and begin to return to your previous position. It was rhetorical – you don’t expect a response, and yet he offers one nonetheless.

“Well,” he begins, “First of all, the way you go red in the face is fucking hilarious. Seriously, it’s just like the cartoons. Absolutely ridiculous. I think by the end of this, I’ll get to see steam come out of your ears,” you’re already reaching for your phone, tuning him out, as he continues on, “And then it’s the way you’re just so damn easy. I mean, come on. Sometimes, all I have to do is breathe, and it sends you on a tirade. You just make it too simple, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. The nickname is prickly and as uncomfortable as ever, lodging into your ears against your better judgment. It creeps across your brain, travels down your spine, numbs your fingertips. You hate the shockwaves it’s capable of sending down your nerves.

He’s right, at the end of the day. These days, you hardly put up a fight in expressing all your negative emotions towards him. If necessary, you could pinpoint a time where he really did simply breathe and you had proceeded to curse him out for it. Sometimes, just the sight of him can sour your entire mood. He’s an ever-present, persistent, irritating rain-cloud that looms on the edges of your life by circumstance. You can’t get rid of him. You can’t get rid of your hatred for him; you’ve always had a preference for sunny weather.

“Careful,” you hum, not looking his way as you glance down at the time that glows from your lock screen: 5:46 PM. “It almost sounds like you enjoy my presence, Munson.”

Indifference. You needed to practice indifference to survive the next twenty three hours.

“Oh, that couldn’t be farther from the truth,” he says, “You are the worst part of my days. You’re like bad leftovers – everytime I see you, the bile immediately rises in my throat. Whenever Steve mentions you’ll be somewhere, I cancel plans. Whenever you show up without warning, I start counting down the minutes till I can get away from you.”

The indifference begins to break. You finally look at him, keeping a steady expression.

“You could go missing, you could vanish off the face of this earth, and I wouldn't blink an eye. As a matter of fact, I’d probably celebrate. Why my friends are so enamored with you, I will never understand.”

It hurts. It might be Eddie, and you might be used to his spiteful words he uses as weapons against you, but it still hurts. The sting resembles a slap as you process each of his words. Each deliberate syllable – the specific referencing to the group as his friends and not your friends, the unblinking glare of his dark eyes, the insinuation that your death could bring him joy – drives deeper into your chest. It’s a human reaction; it doesn’t matter if the boy before you is the enemy, it still bruises to hear anyone say such things about you. The human need to be accepted, to be liked, to at least be tolerated, still twists in your gut.

And he only presses forth. He doesn’t catch the pain spreading in your limbs because you don’t let the hurt raging in your chest spread across your face. You don’t let him see you bleed.

“I’d attend your funeral with a party hat and sparklers. Confetti, even. The whole nine yards along with my finest bottle of champagne,” he hammers the final nail into a coffin, one that you’re not sure of whom it belongs to. Maybe it’s yours, sealing you six feet under with your cursed emotions. Maybe it’s his, locking him into the tomb to dwell in his ability to always take things too far.

You won’t let him see you bleed.

You stand abruptly, making him flinch in the slightest. You keep your face turned from him as you take your phone and storm off into the hallway wordlessly.

“Hey! Where are you going?” he calls after you.

But he’s not following you. No footsteps echo your own as you turn into the only other doorway aside from the bathroom.

He has a clear line of sight of you from the couch, and he can see you disappear into his room.

The door slams shut behind you with a riveting bang. Your nimble fingertips fumble with twisting the lock into place, chest heaving as you finally let your eyes burn.

He can’t see you. You finally bleed.

The tears are feverish as they roll down your cheeks one by one, taking slow steps backward as you squeeze them shut and will them away. There are no accompanying whimpers, or sobs, or hiccups. It’s just you, the salty streams, and the now overwhelming scent of him.

He’s only managed to make you cry, make you bleed this way, once before. The night of Steve’s party, the night you had attempted to make him bleed in retaliation. You’d harbored the need to cut him open desperately that night, to crack open his chest and assure yourself he could bleed the same scarlet as you, that there was still a weathered heart behind his calloused ribs that could beat the same as yours.

But you never did. At the end of that night, you had been the only one left bloodied and bandaged, aside from Steve’s glass as collateral damage. He remained unscathed.

The door knob shakes suddenly, and your eyes flash back open. Another shake, and you hear him huffing.

“Seriously? Did you just lock me out of my own room?” His voice comes from the other side of the door.

The bleeding stops. The wound seals. Even if he can’t see you through the door, just to know that his presence resides on the other side of it is enough to put an end to your trembling breaths.

“Fuck off,” you call out hoarsely.

“Let me in. It’s my room.”

“No.”

He sighs, and a thump sounds that you assume is his forehead falling against the wood in defeat, “Why do you insist on acting like a child?”

“You’re the one with a collection of action figures!” you fight back with your weakest insult of the night. He twists the doorknob without fruition a few more times, a couple sharp knocks sound as you turn to get a better look at the room you’d run into without observation.

It’s nothing extravagant, which makes sense. He has an entire apartment to spill his wretched personality across, which means there’s no need to condense it into the decor of his bedroom. He doesn’t have to express himself in a limited space as you do with your dorm. There’s a few posters of various bands hung crookedly on the wall, a dresser with a few of the drawers half open with assortments of clothes peeking out before they overflow onto the carpeted flooring, and a bed left unmade. His jersey sheets are plaid, worn and clearly well-loved. Despite the expected mess trailing about the rest of the floor, the space beside the bed is left cleared, and you decide to settle yourself down onto the patch.

Your phone buzzes in your tight fist as your back settles up against the side of the bed.

“Unlock the door,” his voice persists impatiently again.

“Go to Hell.”

“I’m already there. Stuck with you.”

Maybe the wound isn’t quite sealed, because the words fall like salt into your chest.

“Why my friends are so enamored with you, I will never understand.”

There’s more to say, but the chiming of a phone cuts off your thoughts. You glance down to your cell phone – not yours.

The ringing is more muted, behind the door. With Eddie.

It’s Eddie’s phone.

You’re about to call out a snarky remark about him getting that, but the ringing cuts off before you have the chance. It’s clear he’s walked away from the door as the echoes of his voice fades, the conversation inaudible to you through the walls.

Your fingers dig into the carpet beside your thighs as you pull at individual strands that stick out, finally discarding your phone on the opposite side. Eventually, your touch trails closer to the edge of the bed, plucking, plucking, plucking until you collide with laminated paper sticking out from beneath the bed.

What’s this?

Just as you’re about to pull what you assume is a magazine from beneath the bed, your phone begins to buzz violently, this time the ringtone being your own.

The screen lights up with Steve’s contact photo. It can’t be good.

“Hello?” you answer once you pick the phone up after a few moments of pause.

“You can’t lock him out of his own room.”

“Oh, hey, Steve. I’m great, thanks for asking. Really living the drea-”

“You can’t lock him out of his own room,” Steve repeats with more emphasis, disregarding your sarcastic tone completely.

You stare across the room at an acoustic guitar resting on a stand. This machine slays dragons, it reads in bold, white lettering.

“So you were the one who called him,” you mumble.

Steve sighs over the line, “No. Nance called him, because you haven’t sent the proof to the chat yet. We were trying to give you guys a grace period, but-”

“But you assumed we’d already murdered each other,” you finish his sentence.

“Can you blame us? What did he even say to make you board yourself up in his room?”

You scoff softly, “He didn’t tell Nancy?”

The moment Steve mentioned Nancy was the one calling Eddie, you’d simply assumed he’d filled her in.

Before you’d weaseled your way into the friend group, there had been clear, strong bonds already set in place: Robin & Steve, Jonathan & Argyle, and Nancy & Eddie. Three sets of best friends who all wove together to form their large friend group with ease.

You were the odd man out. They never treated you as such, except for Eddie, but it was an insecurity that could eat you alive if you ever gave it the time of day. And maybe that was why Eddie’s earlier words had cut so deeply. He was voicing a fear you always tried to bury deep down.

“No,” Steve says as if it were obvious, “He just started going off about how you had locked him out of his room amongst…. Um, amongst other things.”

Other things. You could guess what those other things had been; no doubt, he’d spent his time on the phone bitching about you. He’d probably called you every crude name in his rolodex of hatefulness.

“Right,” you drawl, eyes flickering around the room to seek out another distraction to mindlessly stare at. Suddenly, you remember the magazine you had discovered just as Steve called, “Well, nothing surprising. The usual, really. Just how he hates my guts, he finds me annoying, he wouldn’t care if I died-”

“-What?”

You ignore Steve’s gasp of disbelief and carry on, “-All the classic insults you would say to your arch nemesis.”

Steve says your name softly, still carrying an air of shock, “He didn’t mean that. I- Listen, he’s an asshole sometimes, but I guarantee he would care-”

“Who cares?” you interrupt, “I don’t blame him. It’s fine. He doesn’t have to care if I meet my untimely demise. I kind of figured he was going to murder me anyways, remember?”

“Yeah, but that was… that was joking around, he…” Steve trails off, because you both know he’s full of shit.

There was no joking around between you and Eddie. A painful truth, considering when you first joined the friend group, you had such high hopes of getting along with him.

“It’s whatever. Do you still need me to send proof?” you ask, fingers now playing with the crumpled edges of the magazine. Even half-hidden, you could see there were pages that had been dog-eared.

You almost don’t hear Steve as he tells you that it’s fine, that now they know the two of you are definitely together. It’s already nearly time for the next check in anyways.

“Alright, in that case…” your tongue peaks out as you begin to tug the magazine out of hiding. The moment the magazine's title comes into sight, you gasp, frozen as the phone nearly slips out of your hand.

Fucking jackpot.

“You good?” Steve asks.

Playboy. A goddamn Playboy magazine.

“Never better,” you rush out, eager to hang up so you can utilize this ammunition against Eddie, “Talk later, Steve-O.”

You don’t give him a chance to echo a goodbye before you hang up, tossing your phone off to the side with a muted thump. Your focus is entirely on the magazine before you, crinkling as you hold it in your hands and bite back laughter.

Against your better judgment, you open the cover, mouth falling open as you flip through page after page of nude women and cigarette ads. Some pages stick together, and you don’t dare to peel them apart, cringing at the thought of just why they’re sticky. You come to the first page that had been dog-earred, and your jaw clicks as your mouth falls agape.

Fucking pervert. He’s a goddamn pervert.

A well-timed knock sounds at the door once more, Eddie’s knuckles sharp in their three strikes, “Can you let me in now?”

It’s the closest to a please you’re going to get.

“Sorry, busy!” you call out in response, still staring at the spread.

The nude woman eerily resembles you. Same hair, same skin tone, similar noses. The Universe has dropped the most loving of gifts in your laps in the form of this magazine, something you know you can use to get under Eddie’s skin as severely as he had done to you.

“Busy?” he protests, knocking on the door again before you hear the shaking of the doorknob again, “What the fuck are you doing in there? I told you, don’t touch my shit.”

You bite your lip, smile curling the corners of your mouth as you finally stand from the floor, knees cracking as you keep the magazine open to the photo. Eddie has gone scarily quiet, and you can’t even make out his breathing. His shadow has stilled completely as it peaks in from under the doorway.

He’s never living this down.

You’re still grinning with ill-intent as you shout, “Wow. Who knew I was right about the Playboy?”

Those words are all it takes for the frantic pounding on the door to begin.

taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @amira0303 @blushingquincy @imtryingahh @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @liv0679 @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @eddiemunxson @ohmeg @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @whosbettysstuff

(if your name is crossed out like so, it means i am unable to tag you)

taglist is now closed. <3

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #twenty four hours #i still can't believe this got as much attention as it did omg thank y'all

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slvttyplum · 3 months

Note

heyy, l hope you’re doing great. i like your writings so much and i would love to read one about how jjk men react when they learned about reader’s fictional crushes with their high school journal.

thank you so much for it already <3<3

ᥫ᭡ jjk men reacting to: your fictional crushes

nanami

- it was by accident

- when the both of you moved to a house.

- he was going through the boxes and saw your book and opened it from curiosity.

- his eyes went wide and he started blushing and burst out laughing.

- didn’t even know how to react nor could he stop reading.

- it was fascinating and he saw you in a different light.

- he saw you as this silly teenage girl and he thought it was so cute.

- he ended up asking you about it because he found it so funny and cute.

- you got so flustered and he would occasionally tease you about it.

satoru

- once he found your journal he was never going to let you live this down.

- he was slightly offended that none of your old fictional crushes looked NOTHING like him.

- “is this a joke? we look nothing alike.” with a pout on his face.

- before he even asked you about it, he kept it a secret for the LONGEST time.

- when you weren’t home from work or went out somewhere, there he was…

- snooping in your journal, reading about how much you loved a character.

- he found it HILARIOUS you would switch from one person to another in a day.

- would say things that you said in your journal to see if you caught on and you didn’t.

- until he finally showed you and you flipped out.

- “SATORU!!”

suguru

- at first he read a couple of lines and put down your journal but specific things caught his eye.

- he was always smiling and laughing to himself when he read the absurd things you put in that journal.

- your crushes on these fake men and how you would go absolutely crazy.

- he saw how you were still that teenage girl from that journal.

- you caught him reading it when you got home and snatched it from him immediately.

- he promised you he didn’t find it embarrassing and thought it was actually cute.

- but you didn’t give a damn.

- that was ancient paper that he was NEVER supposed to read.

choso

- was confused when he first found it and thought it was your siblings but the words that was written was clear it was you.

- started reading didn’t realize he was on page 50.

- then he found ANOTHER book.

- he wasn’t trying to snoop, he thought of it as more of an eye opener for the both of you.

- but he knew how you would react but he kept it under wraps.

- reading it whenever you weren’t around and kept mental notes of mentionable things.

- he wasn’t that sneaky and you caught him.

- he still tried to hide them but you wouldn’t let him:

toji

- he didn’t care for it much at first, because he thought it was just another notebook you were saving.

- but then… he decided to just look and when he started reading he couldn’t stop laughing.

- he didn’t bother hiding it from you and you got upset but he wouldn’t give it up and kept reading it.

- “hmm what’s this? i want to-.”

- smacking his mouth trying to get him to stop but he wouldn’t.

- no matter how much you tried to hide the books he still would find them and read them.

- found them funny.

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carlyraejepsans · 7 days

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Do you have any thoughts on Sans’ role as a judge, as well as his association with justice and karma?

i actually have my own interpretation of karma that i haven't seen anyone else share! i wouldn't go as far as to call it authorial intent, but i think it's a neat reading on its own accord.

let me find this old discussion i had with jpeg

(discussing my thoughts on the judge position)

i have no idea what's going on with his weird cryptic bullshit, but judging (HAH) from the devotion to which he sticks to this one job even in the worst circumstances, in spite of how obviously stupidly he accomplishes it, makes me wonder if he made a promise to someone about it it's very similar to the way he approaches toriel's promise, when you look closer at it

(discussing how he's such a strong opponent/how he got his specific powers)

well my main idea is actually not tied to any lore at all! i think his powers are mostly meant as a trope subversion. both of the skeleton brothers break physics and do weird impossible crap that is perfectly reasonable when you factor in their being comedic characters, thus their suspension of disbelief. suspension of disbelief that is deliberately broken multiple times with sans to bring attention to how genuinely fucking shady he is he's like bugs bunny if bugs bunny snapped [...] proposal what if the karma effect is not sans what if it's how chara responds to it i mean, think about it. sans never actually mentions karma. it's always the narration chara's been getting more and more separate and vocal through the LV-up mechanic AND we know they're obsessed with the idea of consequences and facing punishment for your actions like, if you think about it, his poison-like effect is explained perfectly as a troll move. he beats your ass to death and he only deals 1 damage. hilarious someone's got a complex tho! and it's NOT him. he don't even have serif! complexes? in this economy?

#undertale #sans #chara #metanalysis #answered asks

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gingiekittycat · 5 months

Text

I miss the narrator

This may be an unpopular opinion, but I miss the narrator from Good Omens season 1.

I will admit, when I first watched the show it threw me a bit. Sure, the narrator's jokes were funny, but I thought that as a story-telling device it was distracting. There was just so much of it all the time, and it often felt out of place. And when I went to look up reviews online, it seemed a lot of people agreed: if there ever was a season 2, the narrator had to go.

But THEN.

THEN.

Then I read the book.

And I realized: the narrator is the footnotes. It's the little jokes in between the plot. In descriptions, in metaphors, in transitions. The narrator is what makes the magic of the novel.

The narrator is the authors.

More specifically, the narrator is Terry.

Terry's influence on the novel, on the story; Terry's influence in the way he and Neil wrote the book. Neil has said before somewhere (I will find the source eventually and add it) that he was writing in Terry's style when he co-wrote the novel. And it shows; to me, when I read Good Omens, I was reading a Terry Pratchett novel. At the time, I had no previous experience with reading Terry's work, and the only novel I'd read of Neil's was American Gods. And in my opinion, Good Omens reads nothing like American Gods.

In subsequently reading more of Terry's work, it became even clearer to me that the narrator in the show was Neil's way of keeping Terry in the story. And maybe it WAS clunky in a visual medium, maybe it WAS distracting, jarring. But it was also hilarious, and whimsical, and playful, and fun. And I don't see how Neil could have done without it and still stayed so true to the novel. The jokes, the metaphors, the descriptions, the footnotes; this is what makes Good Omens what it is.

There was no narrator in season 2.

I will say up front that, overall, I enjoyed season 2. It had so many funny moments, and so many thought-provoking, poignant moments too. It used some dialog from the first book (looking at you Resurrectionists minisode) to remind us why Good Omens is not just a romp between an angel and demon, but also a philosophical, thought-provoking piece of media. It had a lot of Pratchett-esque moments; the Job minisode stood out to me here. The end was, of course, emotional and gutting, but I like emotional and gutting (anyone who has read my fics knows this). But... I found myself missing the narrator.

I missed Terry.

And maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it was even on purpose. Maybe the lack of narrator really is illustrating the fact that, when Terry died, he left a hole in the world that can never be filled. You can't make the same show you would have made had Terry been alive. You can't even try. You can make your own thing, you can make it amazing in its own right, but you can't make it the same. And, all said and done, I think that's a very important commentary on grief. When you lose something, or someone, you're not the same as you were before; and it hurts, but you change, you adapt, you grow. Eventually, you make something new.

So... do I want there to be a narrator in season 3?

That's a good question. I think I would accept both outcomes. However, knowing that season 3 is supposed to be the sequel Neil and Terry plotted, I think it would be appropriate to have a narrator this time around. True, we have no novel to base it off of; we don't have any of Terry's footnotes, his metaphors, his jokes. But we have Neil, whom Terry influenced while writing the original novel; we have Neil writing in Terry's style, putting himself in Terry's shoes for a moment (his hat, his scarf). We have Neil, who loved Terry, who has in part made this show as a labor of love, because he promised Terry he would, and he's going to keep that promise. We have Neil to remind us why we love Good Omens in the first place.

And I think having a narrator in season 3 would be a wonderful way to illustrate that.

#By the way #If you are a fan of the show and haven't yet read the book #Please do yourself a favor and go read it immediately #Good omens #Good omens 2 #Good omens 3 #good omens 3 speculation #Neil gaiman #Terry Pratchett #Good omens narrator #My 2 cents #Good omens meta #My meta

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goggles-mcgee · 2 years

Text

Baker Steve and Rockstar Eddie AU is now going to be called What Baking Can Do (will i write it out? Someday. Hopefully soon)

Anyways I have more headcanons for the au

•Steve doesn't wear polos anymore because of the scar around his neck. His closet is literally filled with the softest sweaters and t-shirts he could get his hands on. The softness brings him comfort and feels nice on the scars.

•He always smells like baked goods and the kids love it. It's why they always give him hugs right when they see him, they love the smell and his hugs are so warm and just the best.

•All the kids help out at the bakery when they can, they think it's fun and plus! Job experience! El, Will and surprisingly Lucas all like to help out in the back, Steve teaches them his recipes and how to bake because these are his kids and they will be his legacy so he will teach them everything he can. Max, while not the best with customer service as well as Mike, are both really good at remembering peoples orders if they are sitting at the tables. Dustin is great as a greeter and handing people their to-go orders. Erica is the best taste-tester.

•Look, Steve is still hella popular with the ladies but now he's just so oblivious to their advances, like girls he went on dates with in high-school are trying to BAG this boy but he's always like, "Hang out? Sorry I can't Lucas has a game that day and I promised I'd make him basketball cupcakes."

"Lunch to catch up? I'd love to Brenda but the kids have their little Hotfire club thingy and I promised I would sit in for the session. Raincheck?"

"Dinner? Oh my god thank you for reminding me! We have a family dinner this weekend and I said I'd bring cornbread and a cake."

The kids think it's absolutely hilarious, like how dare you try to date our mom???? And yes they have purposefully "reminded" Steve of something he "promised."

•Eddie has witnessed this on one of his visits and he too finds it hilarious yet endearing. Like Steve may be a little dumb when it comes to people flirting with him but Eddie likes that in a man.

•Eddie is a romantic and absolutely brings Steve a bouquet every time he visits. He finds out quickly that sunflowers and roses are Steve's favorites.

•Eddie always enters the cafe loudly announcing, "HONEY I'M HOME!" Steve grumbles that he's disturbing the customers but he loves it. He always gets the biggest smile when Eddie comes in.

He especially loves hearing that phrase when Eddie's been gone for awhile due to a tour or something of the like.

•Once Steve finds out who Eddie is he tracks down some of his records to listen to and finds he actually likes some of the songs so when Eddie came in next time Steve absolutely just rambled on and on about how much he loved the songs and told Eddie what he liked about them and Eddie is just slowly melting into a puddle hiding behind his hair.

•Steve let's the kids and Robin play whatever music they want when they are working but when he's by himself he absolutely plays ABBA, The Cure, Wham, David Bowie or Prince.

Eddie loves this ridiculous man despite the Wham

•Steve will absolutely close the cafe if one of the kids call him and they're sad, just plain having a bad day or if they are having an emergency. He doesn't care if it's a rush, or if you need your banana bread right now Bethany, his kids need him.

•When Eddie first started visiting and the kids didn't run into him due to conflicting schedules and what not, he finds out quickly that Steve doesn't know who he is so he has no problem giving Steve his name. (He holds himself back from asking if Steve likes his last name enough to take it)

They slowly start to get to know each other and Eddie tells Steve he writes songs and Steve just declares that he's sure Eddie is great at it despite not reading any of Eddie's songs or listening to the man sing and when Eddie point that out Steve just huffy.

"You're an amazing guy Eddie who has seen and done so much. It's not hard to believe that you are talented at writing songs. You really have a way with words!"

And Eddie just wants to lay on the floor, this boy is too precious. He can't.

•When Robin is down on her days off from school and working at the cafe, her and Steve wear matching "uniforms" which is really her just snatching one of his sweaters (of course matching colors), putting on her apron and she always insists they switch name tags.

Steve always rolls his eyes but he also always does it. That's how regulars know Robin is back because Steve will be wearing the nametag 'Robin'

•They absolutely decorate the cage for every holiday. They go all out and it's always the most fun Steve has had on holidays.

Christmas: Him, Robin and the kids get ugly sweaters to wear for the cafe

Halloween: costumes but Robin and Steve are always Batman and Robin because they think it's funny.

Valentine's Day: Argyle made them shirts with neon colored Sweethearts Candies on them and they wear them every time.

Thanksgiving: Robin thinks it's hilarious for her and Steve to dress like vegetables. Dustin likes to be the Turkey. (Steve is almost always the corn)

•They do decorate the cafe for any member in the family's birthday for the day even if they're not having the party there.

•Eddie absolutely starts writing songs about Steve and that's how his band mates find out about him because they catch him singing the songs and other love songs.

•Eddie loves his band but he doesn't tell them where he goes when he goes to visit Steve, they share a lot, practically everything and he will introduce Steve to them and them to Steve but he doesn't do it right away because 1. He's wooing the man of his dreams 2. He just wants it to be for himself for a while

He does offer them treats though as an apology/bribe

•Eddie loves the kids but he is also terrified of them. Yes they are fans of his, but they clock in on the fact he wants to date Steve so fast and they each give him separate shovel talks. They make sure Steve doesn't see them do it though.

•Eddie fully thinks Steve is this super tender, sweet, sarcastic guy who wouldn't hurt a fly until he witnesses Steve defend him from an overzealous fan (which felt more like a stalker) that had followed them after they had had lunch at this local diner.

The fan had tried to get grabby. Had tried to take a "souvenir."

Steve has a mean right hook.

Steve so looked so proud of himself that he knocked the fucker out. He even put his hands on his hips and smiled all cutesy, "I won a fight!"

Which that sentence isn't terrifying right?

That was their first kiss. Also might have been the night Eddie confessed.

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miuszn · 1 year

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HII!! i love your writing sm, so i wanted to send in a request. I KNOW THIS IS SO CLICHÉ AND OVERDONE 😭😭 BUT could you possibly write a seven minutes in heaven scenario with ellie or abby. maybe reader n ellie/abby don’t really like each other, or they have tension ?? idk

seven minutes

SETTING : college / modern au

WC : 3120

WARNINGS : not beta read , fingering , cunnilingus ( r!recieving both ) , kinda vanilla again ( sorry ) , top!ellie , one-sided rivalry , intentional lowercase , this might kinda seem like dubcon but it’s not reader is just shy , english isn’t my first language and i’m not perfectly fluent so there might be mistakes ( lmk if there’s any )

A / N : hii everyone !! aaa im so glad i finally finished this 😭😭 i love these corny cliche scenarios soooo much but only when it’s w women otherwise it’s just so bleh . women do everything better so true !! anywhooo i hope u guys enjoy this and tysm for requesting this bc i wanted to write something like this but didnt think anyone would want it .. ALSO IM SO SORRY I FORGOT TO INCLUDE ABBY WHEN I STARTED WRITING BC I SAVED THE ASK TO DRAFTS TO KEEP IT THERE N ONLY NOTICED NOW JFJDHDKDJ pls forgive me .. ill include ellie & abby tension over reader in the future i promise 🙏🙏

— 𓆩♥︎𓆪 —

“dina, i’m not going.”

you had no idea how many times you told her this, but you weren’t planning on changing your mind. you had gone to a few parties here and there, sure, but it wasn’t really your thing. you enjoyed going to them every once in a while to go out and loosen up, get your mind off of stress, but that was it. you weren't particularly crazy about it at the same level of other people your age, not even as much as dina, who’s considered a more casual partygoer. you had given her some excuse about having a project to work on, but the truth was, that wasn’t your concern. in fact, you didn’t have a project to work on at all. you made it all up. you even considered going to that party when dina first told you about it, but a few days later you overheard some classmates talk about how ellie williams out of all people would be going.

ellie ellie ellie. she drive you nuts for all the wrong reasons. you could tell she disliked you from the start, which that in itself made you dislike her as well. you wondered what you could’ve possibly done to anger her. but your dislike for her only grew when you realized just how irresponsible she was. she slept in, often came hungover to class, and yet she still scored the highest. even higher than you. and that really set you off. you had been an overachiever all your life, and all of a sudden some loser who doesn’t even put any effort into anything is beating you at everything. but most of all, it intrigued you a little more than it did anger you. you wished you could take a peek into her brain and see how the hell she managed to do it. your first thought was she copied answers off of people. seemed the most logical, right? but she was scoring the highest. how the hell could she score higher than anyone that she could even copy off of? hell, she even answered open-ended questions more detailed and well-written than you did. it didn’t make any sense. that’s the worst part of it all. you couldn’t even come up with a logical explanation as to how she could even do this.

little did you know, though, she was completely aware of your one-sided rivalry, and she found it adorable. she never tried to compete with you, but she thought it was hilarious watching you try so hard to compete with her. the first time she saw you, she was immediately drawn to you. your spotless image, valedictorian from your high school who had a perfect gpa and perfect test scores. you were perfect. but she wanted to see you crack. she wanted to see what was under all those layers (both figuratively and literally) and see what you were truly like. she knew you seeing her put in no effort into school yet still doing better than you would anger you. that’s exactly what she wanted. sure, she was in a way getting you to hate her, but it was a risk she was willing to take just to get a reaction out of you. and little did you know, you were attracted to her. and she was aware.

“come on, i don’t know why you’re acting like this all of a sudden,” dina whined. “you said you’d come along when i first told you about it.”

“i said i’d think about it,” you corrected her. “i’m just not really feeling it. besides i already told you i have this project to work on.”

“what’s it for?”

“it’s, uh..” you tried to come up with a lie on the spot. “it’s for calculus.”

“no way, we have a project in that class?” she asked, surprised, “i can’t believe i had no idea! when is it due?”

shit. you forgot you had that class with her.

“it’s for tomorrow, i think..” you kept going along with your lie.

“bullshit,” she laughed, “if we really had a project due tomorrow you would already have it done. and there’s no way i’d miss a project for that class!”

“fine,” you sighed, “i just needed an excuse so you’d leave me alone. but i really don’t want to go.”

“nope, because you lied you have to come.”

“why?!”

“because it’s fair!” she said, “besides, you definitely owe me one for going to that stupid concert with you the other day.”

you rolled your eyes. “you said you enjoyed it.”

“yeah, well, i lied. do you seriously think i’d ever like-“

“alright that’s enough!” you sighed. “i’ll go. but we are leaving early that night”

“deal.”

— 𓆩♥︎𓆪 —

“dinaaa, hurry up!” you knocked on the bathroom door. the main downside of sharing an apartment with your best friend was the fact she took forever to get out of the bathroom. you both decided it would be a good idea, you found a nice complex near campus and the rent was almost the same as a dorm room, so it was a no-brainer.

“five minutes!” she yelled back. five minutes my ass, you thought. at least this time you thought ahead of time and got in there before her. your outfit wasn’t anything fancy, of course, but you still wanted to dress cute. you had a black tube mini-skirt and white baby tee, just something you threw on that was comfortable but still looked alright. you had struggled a little to decide what to wear, you didn’t want to stand out too much but you still for some reason wanted to impress ellie deep down. you just brushed this off as an unwanted thought and ignored it, but it continued to linger in your mind. why do i even care what she thinks of me? you asked yourself.

about fifteen minutes later, dina finally came out of the bathroom.

“you said five”

“well, i still look good, don’t i?” she jokingly posed.

“yeah, yeah, whatever. let’s get going.”

— 𓆩♥︎𓆪 —

if there was one thing you could absolutely not stand about house parties, it was the stench inside the house. god was it awful. half of these people were frat boys who didn’t know what deodorant was and had been sweaty all night, and all this mixed with the smell of alcohol just made matters worse. most of the people were inside the house enjoying the music and the drinks, but you simply hung outside with dina chatting while drinking out of those cliche red cups you see in movies. you really couldn’t wait to get out of there, but yet again, that little voice in the back of your head made you think about ellie. you thought it was good you didn’t see her, but at the same time, you wanted to see her. it was a strange feeling. you couldn’t tell if it was curiosity, intrusive thoughts, or attraction. whatever it was, there was no way it was the last option.

about an hour passed and you were starting to get bored. just as you were about to suggest to dina you leave, a group of 8-ish people came out of the house to the backyard. among them was ellie. the moment you saw her you realized just how attractive she is. you had never looked at her enough to tell, but now it was evident. now you were even more confused. but you simply told yourself you can think she’s attractive and not be attracted to her.

you were so lost in thought you didn’t even realize one of the guys was talking to you and dina had to hit you on the shoulder to get your attention.

“is this chick high or something?” one of them laughed.

“uh- no- sorry. just kinda pensive.” you tried your hardest to avoid eye contact with ellie, and luckily this time you managed to do so. it just would’ve made things way more awkward.

“anyway-“ one of the guys started. “we were thinking since none of us wanna be with those people inside the house, we could just do something else to have fun.”

“what’re you thinking?” dina asked.

“7 minutes in heaven.”

you and dina were both a little stunned. you would’ve thought about some other thing, but you decided to go along with it anyway. not like anything could go wrong.

you all sat in a circle, and one of them began explaining the rules.

“simple, you spin the bottle, whoever it lands on, you have to go in the shed for 7 minutes and do any romantic or sexual act. kissing, making out, having sex even. but there has to be some proof you did something. if you didn’t do anything in the 7 minutes or refused to do anything in the first place, you take a shot. everyone got it?”

everyone nodded, and the game began. most people took a shot, about half an hour of the game went by and not a single person had gone into the shed. you landed on a few of the guys and vice versa, and while most of them were totally down to go in the shed with you, you most definitely weren’t. you weren’t sure if it was just you imagining things, but you felt you saw the slightest bit of anger and jealousy in ellie’s eyes anytime the bottle landed on you and the guys wanted to go in the shed with you, and she was relieved any time you took a shot. you found it strange. why did it matter to her? but you were sure you were just making things up.

you were starting to feel more and more tipsy from the drinks, standing on the line between drunk and sober. you were self-aware enough to tell yourself to not have any more drinks. one more spin, you told yourself. that was it. you spun the bottle, and surprise surprise, it landed on none other than ellie herself.

there was an awkward silence for a moment. you didn’t know what to do. it would be super awkward if either one of you accepted and the other declined.

one of the guys broke the silence first. “sooo.. are y’all going in the shed or not?”

“depends on her.” ellie smirked.

your face got a little hot. a soft red tinted your cheeks and you nodded, accepting in the heat of the moment. you were sure it was just your drunk mind making the decisions for you, but it wasn’t. you were very aware of the decision you had just made. but it hadn’t hit you yet. not until she walked behind you into the shed and shut the door.

“didn’t think you were into me like that,” ellie broke the silence. “i always thought you hated me or somethin’.”

you didn’t really know what to say. you mumbled some nonsense trying to come up with something fast.

“do i make you nervous?” she asked.

“sort of..” you were able to respond.

“ohh, i see,” she interrupted. “you just pretended to hate me for whatever reason.”

“no!” you protested. “i wasn’t pretending- i mean, i don’t hate you, it’s just. ugh.”

you gave up on trying to explain yourself when you realized just how childish and irrational you acted. seriously, disliking someone for outperforming you at your big age? the more you thought about it, the more embarassed you were about it. was it the alcohol doing this to you? it was all so confusing.

“why’d you accept to come into the shed with me?”

you didn’t respond, just shrugged. you didn’t know. you must’ve woken up on the wrong side of bed or something. you were acting very irrational today, and it’s like someone else was making decisions for you.

you didn’t realize she had pretty much backed you against one of the walls of the small room until now. this feeling, that you couldn’t quite put a name on, was so sudden and so foreign. did you have feelings for her that you had just been pushing away all this time because of jealousy? if not, what the hell was it?

her hand wandered up your skirt, stopping right before reaching your cunt. she looked up at you as if asking for approval, and although you hesitated for a moment, it’s as if your body made the decision for you and you nodded.

she didn’t waste any time and dipped her hand in your panties, rubbing circles on your clit to tease you, causing you to whimper and moan softly.

“so classy and put together whenever i see you, but look at you right now,” she teased. “no one would ever think you’d be whimpering for me like this.”

you blushed and looked away in embarrassment. you didn’t get why that made you blush. so many thoughts were racing through your head, so many conflicting feelings. yet you didn’t try to pull away, even though you had many opportunities to do so.

her touches weren’t enough and you were starting to get desperate, causing you to lightly buck your hips back and forth trying to feel her more.

“oh? someone’s desperate,” she chuckled. “alright, princess, i’ll give you what you want.”

you weren’t sure what she meant by that or what she was planning to do, but, for whatever reason, you trusted her.

she pulled her hand out of your panties, making you whine at the lack of contact.

“don’t worry, baby,” she said, getting down on her knees, her face at the level of your cunt. “i’ll take care of you real good.”

she started pulling down your panties and threw them somewhere on the floor, motioning you to put your leg on her shoulder. you seemed hesitant, thinking your leg might be kind of heavy for her to support on her shoulder. but she assured you it’d be fine.

her mouth was now millimeters away from your cunt. “if it’s too much, tell me to stop.” she looked up at you. you nodded, a little scared, but you still wanted to trust her.

she gave a long lick along your slit to tease you, making you gasp from the contact. she started mercilessly licking and sucking on your clit a little more intensely than you’d like her to, but at the same time, you liked it. you couldn’t tell her to stop. whimpers and moans came out of your mouth, being all that could be heard inside the small room aside from the wet sounds of ellie’s mouth on your cunt. you struggled more and more each second to stand as your legs wobbled and trembled from the sensation. she slid a finger inside you with ease, thrusting it in and out of you at a rapid pace which made you struggle to contain your moans that you started trying so hard to conceal since they only kept getting louder and louder. you had only been in that shed for about 6 minutes, but you were already about to reach your climax. and ellie was aware of this. she sped up her pace a little more, slurping up your juices like it was nothing.

after a moment, she lifted your leg from her shoulder and held your arm while getting up to make sure you could stabilize your footing.

“you okay?”

you nodded, and suddenly you realized what had just happened. ellie williams ate you out. you let the girl you swore you hated so bad eat you out, and you enjoyed it. you didn’t know what was the most shocking; that she didn’t hate you too, that she was even attracted to you, that she wanted to eat you out, or that you just let her. you weren’t sure wether you regretted it or not.

“what, you’re surprised you liked it or something?” she laughed, as if she had read your mind.

you felt your cheeks tint a slight red, and looked away in embarrassment, confirming she was right.

“shut up.” you rolled your eyes, turning to leave, but she grabbed your arm and stopped you.

“listen,” she looked into your eyes. “if you want, we can just forget about this. we don’t have to tell ‘em what happened.”

you nodded, and you both awkwardly walked back to the circle.

— 𓆩♥︎𓆪 —

when you sat back down, dina looked you up and down and giggled.

“why’re you looking at me like that?” you whispered to her.

“you think we’re dumb?” she giggled. “there’s a reason neither of you had to take a shot. like for example, your messy hair.”

you realized it was obvious, and you wanted the ground to swallow you whole right there. you had a lot of different feelings about what just happened, but the main one was embarrassment. it would’ve been one thing if it happened and you didn’t like it, but the fact that you enjoyed it was humiliating. not only did you like it, but you wanted more. you started to take a liking to her, and you hated that.

after about 15 more minutes, everyone got tired of the game and decided to end it. you and dina decided to just go home now, although it was a little early, since you hadn’t been enjoying yourselves much.

as you waited on the front lawn of the house for your uber to get there, you heard a voice calling from behind.

“dina!”

you both turned around and surprise surprise, it was ellie.

“what is it?”

“can i talk to your friend real quick?”

you and dina looked at each other, and you sighed and decided to talk to her. you thought it’ll be quick, and if anything, when the uber arrives you can use it as your get out of jail free card.

you walked over to her and she seemed to be abnormally tense.

“i just, uh. i wanted to ask if you were fine after all that.” she mumbled with a genuine expression on her face.

“ellie, it’s fine.” you sighed.

“are you sure?”

“yes, don’t worry about it. seriously.”

you thought that was it, but she clearly had something else on her mind.

“ellie, spit it out.”

“well, also,” she looked up at you, “i wanted to ask you for your number. i don’t think i’ve ever actually talked to you aside from today.”

you chuckled in disbelief at the audacity this girl had. clearly she knew you’d say no, and just wanted to rile you up. but you wouldn't give her that satisfaction, so you dropped the expression immediately and instead had a calm look on your face.

“maybe some other time, babe”

— 𓆩♥︎𓆪 —

A / N : u guys know i don’t rlly like adding notes at the end of my fics but i felt i must clarify the last sentence isn’t reader having a complete 180 change of personality all of a sudden rather just acting different than she was right before leaving to sort of leave ellie stunned if that makes sense but i didn’t know how to end it and clarify that eheh also i might make a part 2 of this after i finish my next fic and the part 2 to my other fic if u guys want it <3 also ONCE AGAIN english is not my first language i’m not completely fluent yet and i write as a way to practice ++ i don’t have a beta reader sooo if u guys find mistakes PLEASE let me know !! thx for reading <33

#arielle writes ୨୧ #arielle’s 18+ ୨୧ #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #the last of us #ellie x reader #the last of us 2 #tlou #tlou 2 #ellie williams x you #tlou x reader

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sciderman · 3 months

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I really don't like how we're just glossing over the fact that Gwen cheated on Peter let alone MJ hiding this from him.

who's glossing? i'm writing a whole fic about it.

2. they were on a BREAK

3. you're forgetting that peter and gwen are dramatic irony the couple™ and at exactly the precise same time gwen had her tongue down mary jane's throat peter had his tongue down harry's. the exact same night.

the joke is that peter has been burying all this guilt for years thinking that he'd failed gwen and was terrible and dishonest and she was an angel who was too good for him until he finds out. gwen was always just as much of a messy bitch as he was. but he was too busy spiralling in his own messes to realise that gwen was just as messy as he was.

4. mj didn't tell him, sure. but that's because she assumed gwen told him. i don't think mj's the sort of girl to say "hey by the way i fucked your girlfriend shitlips" even if that would be hilarious. she didn't think it was a secret though and definitely thought gwen told peter.

and yeah. i'd hesitate to call it cheating - they were definitely on a break. they might not have laid down a law, and definitely both feel ridiculously guilty about it, but they. were. on a break.

i think it was just a necessary thing, for both of them.

i think for me, i'm not about the moral black-and-white of relationships - it always got me down when people point at the piña colada song saying it's terrible. it's about cheating. that's objectively bad and evil so says it in the bible thou shall not commit adultery yadda yadda yadda. no, no, shut up. that's not what the song is about. the song is about rediscovering there's stuff you've overlooked about your partner. that you can think you love someone, but not actually know them. and you can learn more about them, and realise they're not what you thought, and you can fall in love with them all over again. for me, that's like, the most romantic thing ever, actually. and those who look at it through the "this song is about cheating" lens completely sleep on how genuinely, sincerely cute and romantic it is. that it's a song not about cheating, but discovering stuff you didn't know about your partner, and falling in love with them all over again. finding out that actually, you're both the kind of person who's crazy and lustful for life enough to run away with a romantic stranger on a wild escape, but you were both too afraid to admit that to each other. i love that song. it's so much more sincere and human than any stupid love song. nay sayers get away from me.

i think peter and gwen are a lot like that piña colada song. neither of them are a villain. both of them make mistakes and both of them were messy and both of them had stuff to figure out before they could make it work together.

i... sighs... i'd like people to kind of stop expecting these guys to be right all the time. they're disasters. i wouldn't be interested to write them in any other way. and i promise you wouldn't be interested to read it, either. i'm here for the messy bitches who have stuff to figure out. shout out to the messy bitches who have stuff to figure out.

#sci speaks #ask-spiderpool #the people who say the pina colada song is about cheating and that's bad are the same people who say that #beauty and the beast is about stockholm syndrome and that's bad #claiming moral superiority over a cute quirky little song and missing the point entirely.......#i should've replied to anon “oh so its okay when peter does it but when gwen does it it's WRONG... god forbid a woman do anything”

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brucebocchi · 1 month

Text

Winter 2024 anime, Pt. 2: Mixed reactions, the bench, and the gems

hey y'all, this is also up on my ko-fi! it's free to read both here and there, but i'm struggling financially rn so i could appreciate if you'd throw a few bucks my way if you liked it! part 1 can be found here.

And we're back for part 2! Here's all the new stuff I finished this season, and one more I'll get back to later. As with before, these are sorted alphabetically within each category and are not ranked as of yet.

Also as before, the OP for each series is linked in the title. Check them all out if the header images aren't giving you the right feel for each show, but also check them out because most of them were actually pretty damn good this season.

[Solo Leveling OP voice] LET'S GET IT!

Mixed Bags:

Hokkaido Gals Are Super Adorable!

Your standard, quasi-harem “easily flustered Regular Guy wins over hot girls just by being really nice” shonen romcom. I really don’t have much to say about this one other than if you’ve seen My Dress-Up Darling, you’ve basically seen this already. The only thing that really sets it apart is the setting.

Tsubasa (voiced by Nobunaga Shimazaki, in a FAR cry from his turn as Mahito in Jujutsu Kaisen) is a straight-laced Tokyoite whose family situation lands him in a small city in the frozen boonies of Hokkaido. While looking for the bus to his new house, he runs into a gyaru in the snowy wild, the underdressed, hilariously-proportioned Minami, and they hit it off. It turns out they go to the same school, there are other cute girls there who take a shine to him as well, it’s nothing new.

I ultimately don’t have much to say about Hokkaido Gals, but I do have a soft spot for series like this, and after reading ahead in the manga I felt obligated to see it through. This is all junk food, but it’s all stuff you’ve seen done better in other series. I also have a soft spot for gyaru in anime and manga, and while I do like Minami just fine, she isn’t Marin Kitagawa or Rumiko Manbagi. I don’t really have it in me to recommend this show to many, though, at least not until another season rolls around, if that ever happens. The manga genuinely does get a lot better as it goes on, but the really worthwhile stuff may not happen until a third season, and I just don’t see that happening.

The manga has issues that the anime isn’t willing or able to solve, chief of which being the visuals. The art style of the manga is wildly inconsistent, and getting a mediocre animation team on this didn’t help matters at all. While the colors often pop nicely against the pretty, snowy backdrops, nobody looks all that great overall. The characters are recognizable, but they just plain don’t look great a lot of the time, nor do they look consistent from one cut to the next; I said that Minami’s proportions are hilarious, but just as hilarious is how wildly they vacillate from one scene to the next for the sake of trying to titillate the viewer.

My biggest takeaway from both the manga and anime was everything I learned about Hokkaido in the process, and if the series is taking subsidies from the island’s tourism bureau, then it’s a job well done. I want some goddamn jingisukan now. The OP is a great time, though. I’m shocked it took over a decade for us to get a proper “Uptown Funk” knockoff in an anime.

Metallic Rouge

I’ll be upfront in saying that this was my biggest disappointment of the season by far. This show had so much going for it, and what we got was… ugh.

There was an unbelievable amount of promise from the outset: This was Studio Bones’ commemorative 25th anniversary production, and coming from the studio that gave us all-timer adaptations like Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood and Mob Psycho 100, not to mention later works from Cowboy Bebop creator Shinichiro Watanabe (including the Cowboy Bebop movie), you can’t fault anyone for having high expectations. It looked to be a fitting production as well: Watanabe’s influence shines through immediately in the gorgeous, lived-in cyberpunk off-world locales and racially diverse cast. Action takes the form of dope robo-tokusatsu transformation fisticuffs, and it’s entirely in 2D animation to boot. The first couple of episodes were killer, too; everything looked and sounded amazing, and there were just enough plot threads teased out that I just had to see how they’d unravel.

It brings me no joy, then, to say that Metallic Rouge collapses into a jumbled mess. I don’t even want to bother talking about what happens in the show because I don’t fucking care anymore. There are few media experiences more sobering than to have it dawn on you over a span of several weeks that “oh… this isn’t actually all that good, is it?” Episode after episode piles on with sloppy lore, weak worldbuilding, warring factions whose names you immediately forget, pointless double-crosses, and the most predictable twist you’ve ever seen. For a while I was willing to accept the fact that I didn’t know what was going on half the time and expected things to become clearer, but now I’m not entirely sure the writers knew either. The stakes apparently kept rising and everything just kept getting more claustrophobic. I’m glad it’s over, if only because if I had to hear “Clair de Lune” one more fucking time, I was going to go ballistic.

There are several attempts at emotional beats, as the story is rife with tragedy and sacrifice, and every single one lands with a wet thud. Nobody gets enough time, motivation, or characterization for any of these things to feel like they actually matter, and that’s especially a shame because the finale might have been able to stick the landing if the previous episodes were less dense and better paced. Emphasis on “almost,” though, because just before the season ends, we get the absolute most pointless fakeout I’ve seen since The Rise of Skywalker, which is the lowest point of comparison you can make for any work of sci-fi.

This is especially frustrating because on paper, there is so much to like here. Rouge and Naomi are likable-enough deuteragonists with a fun dynamic, and they’d make easy yuri bait in a better show. The characters are all pretty and uniquely designed across the board, and the overall aesthetic, almost a pastiche of late-90’s anime futurism, is undeniable. The toku suit designs are neat and several of the action scenes are gorgeous. The score and soundtrack are outstanding (except for the aforementioned Debussy indulgence). I have few complaints about how the show looks and sounds; the style is great! All of my issues lie with the substance.

Metallic Rouge may have had all the ingredients, but it just needed more time to cook; whether that would have been by doubling the episode count or by more carefully planning the pacing and trimming some of the fat from the lore, I’m still not sure. Probably both. It probably needed better writers, too. Maybe it just isn’t as smart as it acts and there was no way to satisfyingly resolve the clumsy civil rights allegories that bring it uncomfortably close to the likes of Detroit: Become Human. So all of the above, I guess. I tend to adore stories that involve artificially-intelligent beings developing their own wills and emotions and learning to cut their own strings (the likes of Blade Runner, Nier Automata, even a couple of character arcs in the Persona series), but this ain’t it. I’m not even mad anymore. I’m just disappointed.

If there are two positives that will stick with me, though, they would be the absolute banger of an OP and, of course, Naomi Orthmann herself (pictured above, left). Outstanding character design. I’m mildly obsessed. She deserved a better show.

The Unwanted Undead Adventurer

This one isn’t even worth talking about, so here’s a brief synopsis, then I’ll add some commentary, and then we’ll all move on with our lives.

Rentt, a beloved but mediocre adventurer in a fantasy town, gets lost in the mysterious labyrinth that all adventurers explore for personal gain, gets waxed by a dragon, and awakens as a shitty-looking CGI skeleton. He notices, though, that he’s able to level up better as a skeleton than he did as a human, and with the more monsters he defeats, the more he evolves into something closer to human. The rest isn’t really worth discussing.

If I’m being honest, I should’ve dropped this show much sooner. It looks kinda lousy most of the time, the plot (inasmuch as there even is one) is boring, character designs are forgettable (except for Rentt’s closest ally, Lorraine, holy hell) and it seems wholly uninterested in actually building its own setting. If it returns for a second season, I won’t be there, nor will I feel like I’m missing anything. Each episode felt like a chore to watch. I probably only saw it through because 1) I liked looking at Lorraine, I know what I’m about, and 2) I didn’t want to lump it in with the shows I did drop. The Unwanted Undead Adventurer isn’t as patently upsetting or frustrating as those three, but it just plain isn’t a very good show.

The Witch and the Beast

This show could have been so much more. I was drawn in by the gorgeous character designs and intriguing blend of Victorian gothic aesthetics and architecture with modern infrastructure, and very quickly disappointed by just about everything else. The first episode is an exceptional proof of concept, and almost everything that follows is an upsetting showcase of what could have been.

The story centers around Ashaf, a languid, chain-smoking agent of the governing church with a big-ass coffin strapped to his back, and his partner Guideau, a snarling hyena in a young woman’s body, as they investigate abuses of magic across the continent in search of nefarious witches. Guideau in particular has a bone to pick with witches, as the body they presently inhabit is the result of a witch’s curse, and they remain in furious pursuit of the one who cursed them. The curse can be temporarily undone by a kiss with a witch, allowing Guideau’s true body, a hulking brute confined to the coffin, to escape and wreak havoc. Meaning that on a few occasions we get a girl-on-girl kiss followed by a big dude wrecking shit. There’s also other investigations of serial killings, necromancy, and a cursed sword, and here’s hoping you like those, because the coffin breaks are few and far between.

This wasn’t great! By the third episode I had the sneaking suspicion that the animation talent on hand just wasn’t enough to support the aesthetic. While the character designs are exceptional, almost everyone looks awful in any shot that isn’t completely focused on them. This is especially true of Guideau, who looks so inconsistently off-model from one shot to the next that I’m still not entirely sure what they’re supposed to look like, and that’s kind of unforgivable when we’re talking about a main character. Everything looks too dim and too shiny at the same time, and action scenes look like shit more often than they look interesting. I can see so many flickers of something excellent (or at least really good-looking) in Witch and the Beast, and everything else that keeps those flickers from actually igniting makes it so much more frustrating to watch. Maybe just read the manga instead; the panels I've seen from it were uniformly gorgeous.

Actually, yeah, you should probably just read the manga, because for a season of anime, the pacing is atrocious too. It’s clearly trying to angle for a monster-of-the-week format, but each of these mini-arcs is a little too dense for a single episode, so multiple episodes are dedicated to these one-off curiosities, most of which do nothing to advance the plot or show off what the show does best. And if one of them isn’t particularly interesting, you’re saddled with it for the next two weeks like you've been stuck munching on a mealy apple. And I know you can only adapt so much in a 12-episode season, but the decision to end the season on a flashback arc and a lore dump was baffling. That’s not world-building, that’s lazy, and it made the show’s existing pacing issues feel that much more inane.

I feel like I was sold a false bill of goods. I can only imagine how the mangaka feels about this. Dull and uninspiring all around. What a waste.

The Wrong Way to Use Healing Magic

Isekai, unassuming high school boy gains a unique power, impending war with the Demon Lord, yadda yadda yadda. The Wrong Way to Use Healing Magic isn’t anything new or special by any means, nor is it particularly well-animated or -paced, but at its best it’s silly and charming enough that it made a nice, brainless palate cleanser on Fridays.

Usato, your standard quiet high schooler, ends up walking home on a rainy evening with the popular, attractive student council president and VP, when an isekai portal happens. It turns out that it was just the seito-kai that was invited along for the ride (and President Suzune, as it turns out, is fucking psyched to get to be in an isekai), and Usato got caught along with them. When tested for magical aptitude, Suzune and VP Kazuki hit the jackpot with electric and light affinities, respectively, but things go awry when Usato’s reading turns up with healing magic. Terror strikes the palace as the intimidating dommy-mommy Captain Rose barges in to spirit Usato away from his new friends and into her squadron of goons to train him as a combat medic.

As character comedy goes, this one is actually pretty solid at times. Shogo Sakata is plenty of fun as the put-upon, lippy Usato (a much louder role than Chainsaw Man’s Aki Hayakawa), and Atsuko Tanaka (Major Kusanagi herself!) is a blast as the uncompromising Rose, a terrifying slave driver of a drill sergeant with a secret soft side. The dynamic between them is great, too; Usato is over Rose’s shit from the beginning and isn’t afraid to talk back to her, but before you know it, this transforms into friendly banter as Rose clearly takes a shine to Usato and knows he can handle any punishment she doles out. Suzune’s also a bunch of fun now that she’s broken away from having to be the competent, popular girl at school and gets to fully lean into being a complete dork.

Wrong Way also works decently as an isekai, because it makes an effort to stay rooted in high fantasy rather than fall back on JRPG mechanics, meaning there are no stat screens! It also avoids the trappings of wish-fulfillment isekai series by having Usato start out as a regular-ass guy; he’s not a Kirito type, just someone Rose sees as a rough gem in need of cutting. There are no cheat skills or OP weapons or anything, just a kid training every day to get stronger so he can protect the people close to him, and that’s the kind of anime protagonist you should want to be.

For better and for worse, I get serious mid-00s vibes from this one; watch the OP if you don’t believe me. Some of the colors pop uncannily in that early-digipaint-era way, and the animation is pretty middling; the most fluid animation we see is whenever Suzune is acting like a creep. Much like those mid-00s anime, though, Wrong Way may have benefited from being weekly (or twice as long) rather than seasonal. There’s a ton of planting with very little payoff, and it doesn’t feel like the actual scope of the story has even been addressed yet. We don’t even learn why the series has the name it does until someone literally says it aloud in the 11th episode. I may have to reevaluate this season after a possible second, if we ever get one, because this doesn’t stand too well on its own.

Of the anime in this “mixed bags” segment, I’d say I enjoyed Wrong Way the most, but it still had enough problems for me to keep it here. It’s not a particularly bad anime, but it’s not especially good either. I guess we can slot it into what Hazel refers to as “good mid.”

On Hold:

Cherry Magic! Thirty Years of Virginity Can Make You a Wizard?! (three episodes watched)

Man, what a title. That was the main draw for this BL series, which on paper is basically a gay version of the Mel Gibson vehicle What Women Want.

Adachi (a surname that will always make me laugh thanks to Persona 4), a gloomy salaryman, has hit the big 3-0 without getting any, and now he can somehow read anyone’s thoughts just by making physical contact with them. Just as he laments that this is his life now, he accidentally bumps into his handsome, popular coworker, Kurosawa, whom he learns has been harboring a massive crush on Adachi this whole time. Well dang, what now? Kurosawa’s a really nice, thoughtful dude, but Adachi’s never even thought about being with a man before! And isn’t there something wrong with already knowing this secret? How can he even go into the office and look Kurosawa in those big, handsome eyes… every single day…

What I’ve seen so far has been pretty solid, if not particularly well animated. The visuals are really my only gripe here; I just put it off for way too long and didn’t have it in me to finish it on time to actually get this thing written and published. Yaoi isn’t my forte, which feels like a shortcoming on my end as a fledgling bisexual, and I’ve already remarked on the solid LGBT representation this past season, so I do plan on hopping back on this one.

I gotta say, the co-leading voice actors put in serious work this season. Adachi is voiced by Chiaki Kobayashi, who continued his role as Stark in Frieren, returned to Mashle as Mash Burnedead, and contributed to Metallic Rouge’s cluttered cast as Noid. Kurosawa’s seiyuu, Ryota Suzuki (of whom I’ll always be a fan for his masterful turn as Yu Ishigami in Kaguya-sama), also held down leading roles in Bang Brave Bang Bravern and The Unwanted Undead Adventurer. They’ve been great in the few episodes of Cherry Magic! that I’ve seen so far, and they’ll be a huge part of what brings me back.

The Gems:

Bang Brave Bang Bravern

I feel like the mark of a perfectly audacious piece of media is in the moments where I find myself incredulously shouting “WHAT THE FUCK AM I WATCHING” at the screen, and Bravern made me do that at least once per episode. I have so many things to say about what makes this show great but all of it can be summed up as “it fucks so goddamn hard.”

A joint military exercise in Hawaii between Japanese and American mech pilots goes south as a sudden invasion by metalloid aliens portends certain doom for humanity. Just in the nick of time, though, a bombastic, autonomous mech named Bravern arrives from space and insists that ace pilot Isami Ao take his reins. Isami reluctantly agrees, and to his consternation, Bravern goes full tokusatsu on everyone’s asses, complete with fully-diegetic theme music, and keeps the threat at bay. With Bravern continuing to pester him to act as a pilot, Isami is forced to take up the mantle of a reluctant hero as everyone rallies around Bravern to save Earth. Tagging along is blond-haired, blue-eyed American pilot Lewis Smith, who gets to live out all of his Top Gun fantasies, right down to the latent homosexuality.

That last point isn’t a projection or anything: This show is legitimately gay as hell, and it rules. Bravern’s feelings towards Isami feel far more romantic than what you’d expect from a literal robot, and his description of how it felt to have Isami pilot him for the first time, as relayed to a grim-faced military council, is riddled with hilarious innuendo. Isami struggles not only with shouldering the burden of needing to be a hero to all of humanity, but also being beset on both sides by a loud, insistent mecha and a dewy-eyed gaijin, both of whom very well seem to want to get in his pants. Intricate rituals punctuate Isami and Lewis’ angsty relationship as these broad-shouldered, muscular men grow ever closer. It’s also worth reiterating that Isami is voiced by Ryota Suzuki, who also voiced Kurosawa in Cherry Magic!, and that may not have even been his gayest role this season. I’m not super well-versed in mecha as a genre, but I do know that there’s a lot of Warrior’s Bond-type stuff in these series, and Bravern lays it on thick. And hard.

This show looks killer, by the way. CGI implementation in 2D anime is still a touchy subject, but Bravern features some of the best I’ve ever seen. Simple cel-shading goes a long way to the point where, outside of some uncanny motion, Bravern himself feels perfectly blended into the hand-drawn animation. Mecha designs range from realistic military-style tech to otherworldly sentient robots, and battle sequences run the same gamut as the stakes rise. As goofy as all of the above may sound, it’s committed to being a grandiose, big-time mecha showcase.

This is as good as camp gets in anime; Bravern does for the mecha genre what Akiba Maid War did for yakuza film pastiche (I have also heard positive comparisons to Samurai Flamenco, which I’ll have to get on ASAP). It’s an excellent mecha show in its own right, and wildly hilarious to boot. Bravern himself is very genre-savvy and seemingly a bit of an otaku himself; he loves acting like a mecha hero, to everyone else’s chagrin. Several of the villains (also mechanical beings, voiced by an all-star seiyuu roster that includes Kenjiro Tsuda, the aforementioned Atsuko Tanaka, and Rie Kugimiya) are total dorks themselves. A CIA interrogator tries to waterboard a mecha at one point. Bravern is a deeply silly show, but the heart is as firmly on the sleeve as the tongue is in the cheek: For as wacky as it can get, the story still unfolds with a straight face and excellent emotional beats.

This show also has the most unskippable ED of any anime since Chainsaw Man dropped a new one every week. I will not say what happens. You cannot predict what it is. Just watch it. One of the top YouTube comments on that video says “When I saw this ending after episode 2, I thought I was going crazy.” That’s a ringing endorsement.

Chained Soldier

On the heels of 100 Girlfriends completely rewiring my brain, I was raring for some more good old-fashioned anime trash. I was told that there would be plenty this season, but you can consult the “dropped” section to see how well that worked out for me. Chained Soldier came with some significant hype, and soon enough into the first episode I realized that I’d actually skimmed through this manga before (don’t ask why), so I was on board immediately. Now here’s some nice trashy fun.

The world is in peril thanks to creatures called Shuuki that can advance on our world via portals from another dimension. Women primarily lead the charge against these monsters, as this dimension produces a special fruit that can lend them (and not men) otherworldly powers to help them in the fight. Yuuki, a perfectly normal young man, ends up in grave danger as he stumbles into a portal, where he is saved by the beautiful Kyouka, a commander who is able to subjugate Shuuki at will and use them to fight others. In a bind, she asks Yuuki if she can subjugate him, which he agrees to by licking her finger and transforming into a monster himself, at her beck and call. Because of his utility in battle, Yuuki is enlisted into her squad of baddies (and also an 11-year-old), living in their home as a caretaker and answering directly to Kyouka as her “slave.”

I know, I know, but let's settle down for a second. I put “slave” in scare quotes because Chained Soldier fortunately isn’t going full Shield Hero on us; this arrangement has a give-and-take baked in. See, every time Yuuki completes his service, Kyouka (or whomever else takes advantage of this anomaly) is compelled to carry out whatever suitable “reward” springs from his unconscious, and this is where the ecchi kicks in. Sometimes it’s a kiss, and sometimes it’s something a little more; the reward corresponds to the length and intensity of Yuuki’s contributions to battle, so the heat can turn up in the form of, say, clothed face-sitting, a good scrubbing in the bath, or some nice, casual CBT. All of this is to say that “slave” is a bit of a buzzword here: It’s more of a dom/sub situationship with a lot of extra steps.

Yes, just about everything that isn’t an action setup is full-on harem trash, and Chained Soldier lays it on thick, right down to full-on nudity. Nothing about this show resembles high art, but I can’t help but admire such a high level of commitment to its aesthetic, including the sleaze. It fully commits to the bit and doesn’t even bother lampshading its own trashiness. Chained Soldier knows what it’s about, and I respect that. It also has the good sense not to sexualize the youngest girl, which is a point in its favor that I can’t award a couple other shows previously discussed.

And while this show is plenty fun, the action sequences often excellent, and the character designs usually delightful, there’s not actually a whole lot going on here. As I said with Mashle, I know that battle manga like this can take a minute to really get cooking, and as I said with Witch and the Beast, 12 episodes may not always be a sufficient runtime to adapt enough to break ground, but the debut season feels more like a proof of concept than anything else. That being said, Chained Soldier’s manga has a very effusive audience, and its praises don’t seem to entirely be about the boobs and butts, so I’ll wait patiently for the second season. I think it’s earned that much.

Delicious in Dungeon

This is the one I’m having the hardest time writing about because it so confidently and so completely speaks for itself that anything I could add would feel like scattering sawdust at the beach. Dungeon Meshi (I refuse to call it by its official English name) is a widely beloved manga among those who’ve read it, and for Studio Trigger to do an honest-to-goodness manga adaptation for the first time might as well be front page news among anime fans.

The story follows Laios, the deeply weird human hero, as he delves back into a bizarre and mysterious dungeon to rescue his sister Falin from the belly of a dragon, along with his misfit party: the neurotic half-elven mage Marcille, the temperamental halfling rogue Chilchuck, and the dwarven warrior-slash-chef Senshi. The party is frequently low on supplies, so to survive the trip they’ll need to subsist on the most abundant resource in the dungeon: Monsters. Senshi’s aptitude in the kitchen helps ensure that everything is edible and sufficiently tasty, regardless of how nasty the monster it came from may have been. With monster obstructions out of the way and their bellies filled, our party delves deeper into the dungeon as the mysteries deepen in kind.

I love the character dynamics in this so goddamn much. Marcille and Chilchuck are frequently put off by the food presented to them, but their consternation is worsened by the fact that Laios’ fascination with monsters annoys the shit out of them. I referred to him as “deeply weird,” but that doesn’t begin to describe his absolute galaxy brain, and I mean it as a term of endearment. Laios is deeply knowledgeable and curious about the fauna in the dungeon, and not just how they taste: He is vocally curious about how certain monster attacks may feel, sings along with siren songs, and even keeps a hardcover bestiary inside his breastplate. He’s one of those people you turn to if you have a question on a hyperspecific subject, but you have to be careful how you ask it or else you’re trapped for the next two hours. And I love him for it.

Even putting the comedy aside, there is a fascinating human element at play in Dungeon Meshi, and I can tell that that surface has barely even been scratched yet. Marcille is just as dogged in her pursuit of saving Falin as Laios is, maybe even moreso (remember what I keep saying about LGBT representation this season?). Chilchuck continues to convince himself that he’s only in the job for his own personal gain, but you can see that mask slipping. And I still wanna know what Senshi’s deal is. Even with the five major players I listed, there’s an increasingly deep roster surrounding them—showcasing a broad spectrum of races and ethnicities, both real and fantastical—each with their own histories and motivations, and I cannot wait to see how they play out and interact with one another. There seem to be much deeper themes at play here as well as we learn more about perceptions and grudges between differing races, oppositional magics, clashing ideologies, and the monetary incentives that drive both the dungeon’s exploration and its very existence. I’m here for it.

I’ve been holding off on reading the manga until the season is up in June (though I could crack any day), but I know a loving adaptation when I see one. Not that Trigger ever slacks off in the animation department, but they absolutely brought their A-game here. As with Frieren, the action sequences aren’t frequent, nor are they entirely what the show is about, but they look incredible every single time. Everyone looks bouncy and cartoony in the way only Trigger can pull off while still looking as close as possible to Ryoko Kui’s source material (as far as I can tell). And the food, of course, looks incredible, no matter how weird. This is practically a cooking anime and a fantasy dungeon anime at the same time, and both aspects are visually on point at all times.

I’m obviously speaking from my own bubble as one of the six people who still uses Tumblr in 2024, but I rarely see new anime make a splash like this on social media every single week, and the ones that I do are usually the monster shonen hits like Chainsaw Man or Jujutsu Kaisen. Dungeon Meshi deserves the exposure and success it’s attained, and I’m excited to see it continue. I’d easily slot this right up there with Bravern as one of the best new anime of the season.

A Sign of Affection

I’ve seen a hell of a lot of shonen slice-of-life romances in the past year and change, so a nice fluffy shoujo like this was an excellent palate cleanser. There were a hell of a lot of Big Action Setpieces and panicky teens and grim dungeon crawlers this season, and at the end of the week I wanted to unwind with a bunch of pretty twenty-somethings falling in love with each other.

The show centers on Yuki, a college student living with congenital hearing loss, making do at a public college after growing up at a school for the deaf. Though she’s able to get by with LINE messages and lip reading, she’s unprepared when a foreigner asks for help, but she’s saved by a handsome and mysterious young man named Itsuomi. He’s able to help out, and takes an interest in her when he realizes his fellow undergrad is deaf, and Yuki takes an interest in kind because he’s really goddamn hot. It turns out that he’s a polyglot and an avid world-traveler, but sign language is not in his purview. This mutual interest sparks the concern of her childhood friend, Oushi, one of the few people in her life who already use sign language, who wants to be sure that nothing untoward is happening. And it isn’t, because this is just a really lovely, low-stakes romance story.

This is pure, unfiltered shoujo at its best. Yuki’s internal monologue is peppered with flowery prose, and everything and everyone looks soft and beautiful. Fashionable, doe-eyed women and pillowy-lipped ikemen abound (seriously, holy shit, the lips on these boys) as the scope widens and the main love interests’ friends explore their own possible love stories. Itsuomi is very much of the “mysterious boy” archetype you’ll find in romance stories in this demographic, but he’s not hiding any sort of dark past like you’d typically expect; he’s just an interesting guy who keeps his personal life close to the vest. He’s a self-appointed world citizen who loves learning about how people of all cultures live their lives, and in Yuki he sees someone within his home turf who happens to live in her own world entirely. And it’s easy to see his forward behavior with Yuki as infantilizing at first (Oushi sure does, and I’ll get back to him in a second), but as they grow closer he quickly becomes much more considerate of her boundaries and learns to accommodate her as he studies sign language and gestures that help ensure her comfort. This is a story about Yuki’s horizons broadening just as much as it is about Itsuomi wanting to be let into Yuki’s narrow world, and that sort of synergy makes for some exceptional romance.

A Sign of Affection deserves some credit for refusing to shy away from Yuki’s disability and making a point of depicting her world as one that does little to accommodate her. Very few people in her daily life ever bothered to learn sign language, she relies on a friend to take notes during lectures, and work is hard to come by. It’s an honest depiction that makes an effort not to be exploitative, which is a breath of fresh air. Not only that, but there’s some interesting meta-commentary in there: The only major conflict in the story stems from Oushi’s jealousy, and his reservations about Itsuomi possibly “taking advantage of” Yuki almost feel like he believes that he’s the only one who knows what’s best for her just because he’s done the bare minimum to accommodate her. He thinks he’s coming from a good place, but he winds up accidentally infantilizing her in exactly the way he thinks Itsuomi might. That’s a particularly interesting bit of irony!

I’ve seen enough shonen-oriented romcoms where an unassuming Regular Guy gets flustered as a way-too-casual girl pushes his boundaries (hell, I’ve already reviewed two of those this season), so it’s nice to see the formula flipped for a shoujo as Yuki and her best friend Rin blush and squee over Itsuomi and his coworker Kyouya, respectively. A Sign of Affection isn’t afraid to get a little silly with it, either; plenty of these moments are punctuated by characters’ faces going low-detail or full chibi, and they are cute as shit every single time.

This one was just cozy as hell. If you’re into this sort of thing, swaddle yourself in it and bask.

Solo Leveling

I let this one collect dust after the third episode and didn’t pick it back up until the season was almost up, and honestly, I was kinda dreading it: The trailers didn’t look too promising, the show was slow to start, and it looked like yet another derivative JRPG-style dungeon crawler that managed to get popular. Turns out, nah, this show actually kinda fucks and the web novel series and webtoon it’s based on are popular for a reason. The story is nothing special, don’t get me wrong, but it’s a perfectly serviceable turn-your-brain-off action spectacle with a bit more lying beneath the surface.

In a modern-day South Korea where portals to mysterious dungeons open up and threaten the populace, those who can brave the dungeons, known as hunters, are an invaluable human resource. Once someone is assigned a grade as a hunter, they have that grade for life, barring some rare occurrences. Sung Jinwoo is at the lowest rung on that ladder as an E-rank, incapable of improvement, assigned the epithet “the weakest hunter of all mankind.” He mostly shows up to portal raids as a warm body to fill a quota, and one such job goes haywire as a secondary dungeon within a portal brutally slaughters most of the raid party, Jinwoo included. He somehow wakes up in a hospital, unharmed, and able to access a digital menu before his eyes that exhorts him to do the One Punch Man workout every day, lest he incur punishment. He gets hilariously chadly in the span of a few days in the hospital, including an inexplicable haircut, and finds access to dungeons only he can enter and levels up within this new system.

This one gets off to a slow start and may have benefited from a longer premiere like Oshi no Ko or Frieren, but once the table is fully set, Solo Leveling really starts to cook. Jinwoo’s titular leveling process is a blast from one fight to the next, and as he moves to work in the dungeons that other hunters can access, it turns out he’s been training with the weights on. He’s suddenly fighting way above his pay grade, and after staving off attacks from hunters taking advantage of portals for nefarious ends, he is recruited by an ambitious corporate scion to make some real coin and establish an independent association of hunters.

While it can feel like there’s a whole bunch of table-setting between portal sequences, it’s some smart worldbuilding on Solo Leveling’s end to establish how portal hunting became a central pillar of this society, and doubly so how political and capitalist interests can leave a wide berth for corruption and bad actors. If there’s money to be made in hunting, of course people will find ways to make even more at the expense of others, both at the corporate and personal levels. There’s a lot of talk in there about “survival of the fittest” and “natural selection” and that… makes me nervous.

Those are terms that can be used to justify immoral actions in the name of money, sure, but Jinwoo also uses them to justify his own actions. To what end is he constantly improving himself? Sure, he's doing what he can to provide for his younger sister and their ailing mother, but I see less and less humanity in him as this goes on. There are constant hints at something far more sinister at play than just a dude getting stronger for himself, not the least of which being “the system,” the UI that implores him to keep taking on these “quests.” Someone, or something, seems to be guiding him. Whenever another hunter turns on Jinwoo, of course his self-defense instincts kick in, but system pop-ups instruct him to defeat X number of hostiles like it’s a normal video game scenario. There’s something eerily depersonalized about these encounters, despite them being full-on mortal combat, that gives me serious Ender’s Game vibes. Consider me intrigued.

I’d heard that the Solo Leveling manhwa’s main draw was its visuals, and though I had my doubts early on, I'm sold now. This is a pretty solid presentation! Hiroyuki Sawano turned in yet another banger soundtrack to punctuate all the action setpieces, helping to stitch together a fairly complete package. Said setpieces are exhilarating and almost impressively bloody, and while the animation is nothing impressive in the day-to-day, it goes absolutely batshit when the gloves come off. Movement is inhumanly fluid and the visuals can go into the same psychedelic territories we’ve seen in the likes of Mob Psycho and Jujutsu Kaisen. If this is the new meta for shonen action, I’m not complaining.

By all rights, this is a pretty decent show, but if I’m being honest, this one just hasn’t stuck with me much. And that’s fine! Sometimes I just wanna see some nutty action stuff and move on with my day. Solo Leveling hits that spot perfectly, and I'll be right back there when it returns for its next season.

‘Tis Time for “Torture,” Princess

I was surprised to learn that the gag manga this is based on, with such a seemingly simple premise, has been running for well over 200 chapters and counting. As the anime progressed, I was far more pleasantly surprised to learn that it actually works.

In a standard anime fantasy world where the forces of good are fighting the demonic Hellhorde, an unnamed warrior princess and her talking enchanted sword are taken prisoner and subjected to torture as they’re squeezed for intel. Said “torture,” as the title’s scare quotes would suggest, is mildly unconventional, as the demon baddie inquisitor, aptly named Torture Tortura, attempts to ply the princess by presenting her with tantalizingly delicious-looking food that she can only partake in if she coughs up some info. Naturally, the princess caves every single time, but her intel is often inane and useless, so the “torture” continues. It’s not all food, though: The princess is soon held out of arm’s reach of adorable baby animals by a gyaru beastgirl, pampered into submission by a spa-loving giantess, and is faced with a tsundere vampire faildaughter, who… tries.

And you’d think that would be it; the joke wears thin and you move onto something else. Before you realize it, though, something’s changed: The princess and her captors are quickly becoming friends. The premise almost feels perfunctory: These inquisitors are actual people just doing their jobs, and whatever happens after the princess’ myriad confessions is fair game. There’s no malice or animosity, even during the “torture” sessions themselves: Everyone will have a blast and grow closer as friends, and then the princess will voluntarily go back to her bedless cell. It’s like Sam and Ralph after they clock out, except they’re almost always off the clock. Everyone is genuinely looking out for each other in all directions, and the only thing that keeps the torture going is the need for a status quo to return to, even as it grows more elastic. If anything, Time for "Torture" is a good example of committing to the bit without having to necessarily rely on it.

The real irony in all of this is that it becomes increasingly apparent that the princess is having her needs met in captivity far better than she ever did back home. In her proud proclamations about how she’ll never cave to the temptations before her (shortly before she does just that), the princess often talks about her upbringing and her time as the head of an imperial legion, but these stories often betray her lack of friendship or any of the little things that make life worth living. Her life as royalty was one of isolation and deprivation, to the point where she finds more freedom and fulfillment as a prisoner. She truly lives in a society.

Hellholm, on the other hand, has a surprisingly healthy approach to things like work-life balance, food, and leisure, and its most valuable prisoner is no exception. The Hell-Lord himself is a surprising exemplar of this; for as much as he looks and talks like your standard terrifying JRPG demon king, he’s a surprisingly good dude! He looks after his family, employees, and even the captive princess as if they are all one and the same; he exhibits strong principles and an aversion to conflict, sees to his employees' needs and wants alike, and is a supportive, loving father to his unbelievably precious little daughter (who also serves as a “torturer,” to the princess’ delight). He’s also a big time anime dork, and even bonds with a knight attempting to rescue the princess over their shared otakudom before sending him off peacefully. As “villains” go, he’s top tier.

Time for "Torture" is nothing groundbreaking by any stretch, but it’s a cute, silly time and it plays with anime fantasy tropes in the same way a six-month-old German shepherd “plays” with a cheap stuffed toy. How long the premise holds up is entirely up to you, but I had a lot of fun with it. I have no idea how this ended up being one of the better shows this season, but I guess it just scratched the right itch for me.

#anime reviews

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alovesreading · 1 year

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Chicken Shop Date | Part 4 |

By @imagine-that-100 and @alovesreading

Description of Part 1: Matty Healy x Reader (Female) | You and your best friend Amelia came up with a very simple idea of taking celebrities on awkward chicken shop dates, and somehow, it’s managed to become both of your jobs. In the past, you’ve found sitting across from some of the biggest stars on the planet and eating chicken nuggets easy. But then Amelia manages to score you a date with the man who you’ve been obsessed with since you were nineteen; Matty Healy.

Word Count: 18.7k

A/N: What better way to celebrate George’s birthday than a cute little Chicken Shop Date chapter! Me and @imagine-that-100 are so beyond excited to finally share this one with you lot, it’s such a wholesome one!!! We were giggling, blushing and kicking our feet writing it so we hope you love it! We absolutely love your reactions so please don’t be shy to share them with us, we’ve seen your love for this little story on here and on twitter and it makes us so giddy that you share our excitement over it. Hope you enjoy this one and thanks so much for reading! xx

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

| N’s Masterlist | A’s Masterlist |

~*~*~*~ December 25th ~*~*~*~

Christmas time never fails to fill you up with joy as you get to reunite with your family and just laugh, catch up and shower everyone with gifts, but you are completely sure it doesn’t come close to the way your heart swells up every time you get a new notification saying that you’ve got a message from Matty.

It all started when you woke up to a text of his that said, Why is sleeping at your parents home always so much better? x which made you cackle loudly.

Finding a way to twist his words to tease him, you text him back a quick, Is that a dig at my bed? You can stay on my settee then next time bitch xoxoxoxox

No, you can’t banish me to the settee again xx Matty fights back in a matter of seconds and continues to add, I simply refuse xx but what has you raising your eyebrows in surprise is when he finishes by saying, And call me a bitch again and I’ll have you on your knees apologising for it xxx

Biting your bottom lip, you type, Is that a threat or a promise? and shortly after that’s sent, you add a cheeky, … bitch x knowing just what that would mean.

He acted like he wasn’t impressed, and you could just picture his face as he sent, Wow, really? At 10am? xx

Hilarious you think that’d stop me xx You bite back and to add more fuel to the fire, you send him a petty, Plus you started it xxx to remind him it’s all his fault.

You clearly have forgotten his effect on you because your mind starts to wonder places it shouldn’t at this hour and you’re only brought back to reality when your Mum knocks on your door to tell you to come downstairs for breakfast.

Your family and the reminder of the plans for the rest of the week engrossed you enough to completely miss Matty’s text that he sent a little after your texting was interrupted.

It was time stamped an hour ago and it said, Thinking back to this, I shouldn't be surprised... and the whole spitting thing? x

The last bit has you frowning because you’re sure you’ve not told him about any of your preferences in that aspect. So you send him back a text that’s basically you playing dumb on it, Spitting thing?

Eagerly waiting for a response, you almost jump in your seat when ten minutes later he says, Is our date really not memorable to you at all? Ouch, I demand an apology.

Giggling at his dramatic ways, you continue to play dumb on it by saying, It is memorable but what are you talking about?

You can almost picture him rolling his eyes at you and sighing and you’re left hanging for a response for a couple of minutes until he comes back with the link to a video and a time stamp.

Clicking on it, you’re brought to your date and when you skip to the minute he’s instructed you to, you realise what he means.

The exact moment plays when you say, “And Amelia didn’t like the spit on the camera.” to which he answered, “Only Amelia didn’t like it? So you enjoyed it?” and right after you hear yourself answer with a, “Maybe.” you go back to your conversation with your cheeks heating up.

He added a, If that's not a spitting kink confession, idk what is baby x right after he sent the video and you have a quick think on how to conceal that.

How’d you know that wasn’t just a bit for the video? You try to play with him since you actually wanted to keep him guessing.

But he surprises you when he says, I can watch it back and tell exactly when you’re telling the truth now baby, you’re like an open book x And whilst you’re trying to gather yourself again after melting over that, he sends another text that has you burning up head to toe. This just assures us we’ll have proper fun later baby, so it’s a win really xx

So does this mean you’re into that… You almost hate how shy the text sounds but you’re once again completely overcome by the way he makes you feel.

Are the shows not proof enough? Comes through from him and his smirk comes to the forefront of your mind, completely sure he’s smirking at his screen after having sent that.

Trying to play it cool, you reply with, I think they only spark more questions x

You have to hold back a screech when he sends, Lucky for you baby, I have loads of answers xx

And this time, as you decide to go for a breather after it all, you give him exactly what he’s giving you back. I’d ask for a list but I sorta wanna work them out on the job xx

It was a mistake from you to not expect him to have a comeback to that so you choke on your spit when he says, You gonna get your hands dirty and find out? xx

But you’re fully determined to leave him breathless so with your self control clouded by your filthiest thoughts, you reply, Hands, chest, face, mouth… The list goes on xx

Fucking hell… If you had been on a call then you would’ve died at the groan he let out reading that, Baby why do you have to be so far away? x

On the other hand you are giggling away as your tummy flutters from his reaction and you continue teasing him to keep him on his toes. Alright control yourself, it’s only 2pm x

It bites you back when he sends, You’re a little brat, aren’t you? which has your heart going faster at the thought of hearing him say that to your face.

Hmm call me that again xx Your inhibitions are out of the picture at this point but he is making you go insane with such little effort. It was unfair really.

And what? He texts back, daring you to finish your statement.

But you don’t give him the pleasure of knowing, You’ll find out about that soon enough xx Now be good and go on celebrating baby Jesus’ birthday x.

As opposed to adult Jesus’ birthday? He answers to take the piss out of your wording, Also need I remind you I’m a raging atheist?x

You cackle out loud at the reminder of that Genius interview and you just can’t not send him a screenshot of the exact moment along with, Oh no need to remind me when this exists (I can hear that image) x

Matty knows just how to get you, though, because you’re blushing slightly embarrassed when he says, Obsessed much? You must’ve had that saved cause that was too quick x

You’d love that wouldn’t you? X You quickly reply not letting him get the pleasure of your silence so you’re the one to end the conversation with a bit more teasing, Go play with your new toys Matthew, talk to you in a bit xx

Even though you truly had wanted to text Matty again soon after that conversation took place, you’d gotten carried away around your family and it wasn’t until later in the evening that you’re able to sit down with a cup of tea beside you to talk with him.

You would’ve loved to continue teasing him through text but you want to see his face now so you decide to FaceTime him.

With the biggest grin on your face, you start the video call with a loud, “Merry Christmas!” as soon as he picks up and you can’t even find it in yourself to care how overly chipper you sound as you greet him.

“Merry Christmas baby!” Matty matches your enthusiasm and he’s beaming at you, he finds you glowing under the warm lights that come from the Christmas decorations around your parents home. “Have you had a nice day?” He asks with a soft look on his face, it was a joke how much he found himself to be missing you after he stayed at yours before you went away.

“Yeah it's been really good, how's your day been?” You’d rather hear him talk about his day since yours had been fairly normal, like any other Christmas.

“Yeah busy. So much family, so many questions.” Matty almost rolls his eyes, annoyed at the situation but now he’s escaped to his room for a bit and he gets to see you, he’s happy. But he pouts as he says, “Barely got to text you, but it’ll be more chill over the next few days.”

Pressing your lips together, you try to hide the big grin that wants to break on your face and you shake your head in amusement, “It's okay, my family have been keeping me busy too. I was forced into the kitchen, reason being I'm always eating too much fast food on my dates so my Grandma was making me cook.”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips and he tilts his head to the side to ask, “She thinks you only eat chicken nuggets?”

Aware of how ridiculous that sounds, you chuckle “I think so.” And you’re about to say something else when you’re distracted by how adorable he looks with his messy curls, tired eyes and that soft smile of his. “You look cute by the way.”

Matty’s eyes crinkle at the corners when his smile gets bigger at your compliment, “Thanks baby, you do too.”

Right then you could only hope it was dark enough for him not to notice your cheeks tinting red. “What did you get for Christmas?” You switch the topic when you see the shadow of a smirk forming on his face.

“Got this nice cardigan that Mum had made for me.” He lifts one of his arms up to show the sleeves of the clothing piece and you can’t help but be in awe at the pretty pattern of it and how soft it looks.

“Looks very cosy.” You compliment effortlessly, wishing you could cuddle him at that very moment.

But then he lifts himself up more to show what he’s wearing under it, “Not as cosy as my hoodie.”

“Oh my god,” You giggle, “As if you have it on still.”

“Of course I do.” Matty assures with a slight frown to pretend like the prospect of not having it on still was ridiculous, “Best present I got, baby.”

Shaking your head in disagreement, you state, “I'm going out tomorrow to buy you something better.”

“No, don’t” He warns you sternly, “I’ll be fuming if you do.”

But you don’t listen to him, rolling your eyes you go against his wishes, “You can be fuming all you want, I've got something in mind that I think you'll like so I'll be getting it you, no arguments. I’m just sorry I didn't get it before.”

He pouts hearing you apologise for it, “You really don't have to get me anything.” Doing his best puppy eyes for you to listen to him.

Yet that doesn’t work, it only makes you want to get it for him even more. “I want to, so absolutely nothing more on the subject until I hand it to you.”

“And when will that be?” His inquiry is purely in hopes to know how long until he sees you again and maybe it being before what you’ve arranged on the last day of the year.

“New Year's Eve?” You reply but it sounds like a question since you’re not sure exactly when you’ll be coming back home.

He deflates a little at the fact that he won’t be able to see you earlier so he says, “I get home the day before?” in the same tone as your previous answer, again hoping the information brings you to see each other before the already planned day.

But you bite your bottom lip as you remember the texts you had earlier in the day, “Are you being cheeky again?”

“Only if you’ll let me.” Matty’s signature smirk is directed at you once again and you’re screeching on the inside.

“I’m going to refrain, you know… I think we should let the tension build.” Is your polite way of admitting that you could absolutely not be in bed with him and not fuck his lights out if he wanted to stay with you again.

He scoffs out a laugh, “Let the tension build or you can't trust yourself to keep your hands off me.”

“Okay, absolutely no need to call me out like that.” You point out in warning and then remind him in a simple way that it wasn’t only you with the wandering hands, “And speak for yourself.”

He doesn’t let you pin it all down on him though as he bluntly recalls, “I think it was you that pushed me down on your bed, not the other way around.”

“Matthew,” You hear the very distinctive voice of Denise ring through the phone and you want to die when she shouts, “I don't want or need to know that.”

“Oh my god, no.” Your hand is instantly over your mouth and your cheeks flame at what she’s just heard Matty say.

You know he’s got AirPods in so she couldn’t hear you but the fact she’d just heard him say that you’d pushed her son down onto your bed makes you want to curl up into a ball and die. That was not how you wanted Denise’s first impression of you to go.

“Don’t eavesdrop on a conversation then, Mum.” Matty scorns, his eyes presumably on her to the right of him and not on his phone at all.

“Maybe just close your bedroom door so I can’t hear in future.” You can hear Denise backchat, but then she asks, “Who’s the lucky lady anyway?”

Immediately, you want to hide under your blanket. This can’t be the way you meet his Mum. It can’t be, you’ll never live it down.

“Not on Christmas,” Matty thankfully saves you. But it seems she’s persistent as Matty stands up and starts moving around his bedroom so she can’t see his phone. Him scolding her does make you giggle though, “No Mum, absolutely not.”

And you hear a little of her argument, but ultimately Matty just ends up saying, “Baby, I’ll phone you back shortly.”

“Okay,” You nod, and he’s gone in a panic before you even have the chance to get your goodbye out.

You wait for him to call back as you scroll through your phone and catch up with Amelia on what your families have been like so far. You’re giggling away as she tells you what her Aunt got everyone when Matty calls you back about 40 minutes later.

He smiles when he hears your giggles die down as you answer, “Sorry about that, she wouldn’t leave me alone and I promised I'd protect you.”

You shake your head, not agreeing on how he’s putting it. “I honestly love Denise, Matty, it wouldn’t bother me.”

He raises his eyebrows like he’s concerned over your naivety, “It would, you just don't know it yet.”

“You’re so nasty.” You scold him but you’re trying not to laugh at the situation.

But Matty can just picture so clearly what would happen if you met his mum right then and continues to warn you, “You won't be saying that when she doesn’t stop texting you. She tends to go a bit too overboard far too quickly.”

“Listen if you’ve not scared me off I doubt your Mum will.” You take the opportunity to tease him and it makes you chuckle when he rolls his eyes at your antics.

“Yeah, sure. You keep telling yourself that.” His fake annoyance makes your laughter continue and you see how he can’t fight the smile that breaks out on his face.

Remembering how your conversation was cut short before, Matty asks, “What did you get off Dimz for Christmas?” wanting to hear more about your day.

“I don't know yet.” You sip on your tea, looking at the gifts you have for her untouched under your tree.

“How come?” Confusion written all over his face since he thought you were spending the day together too.

“We have our Christmas’ together tomorrow instead.” You start explaining, “We always want each other's reactions so we save our presents for each other for tomorrow.”

He grins knowing what this meant, “Perfect excuse to call again tomorrow and find out what you got.”

You melt inside at the way his face lights up at the prospect of another promised call, “You don’t have to have an excuse to phone me. Like even if you’re bored, it's fine. Me and Ames do it all the time.”

And you truly mean it. You would very much encourage it because the way that you feel every time he texts you is becoming your favourite thing.

“I'm afraid you’ll get tired of my voice.” Matty jokes to get a laugh out of you.

But his heart swells when you assure him, “If it's not happened in the past decade, I doubt it could happen now.”

He feels himself becoming more and more affected by the things you say so he plays it off like that was a boost of his ego and playfully says, “Obsessed!” He lets out a whistle exaggerating it all and your cheeks grow hot at his dramatic actions.

“You wish.” Is the only thing you can think of saying, aware that he has the advantage here with his knowledge of you.

And he proves just that when he smirks and backchats, “You’ve got a tattoo for one of my songs and a top exclusively stating that if anyone isn’t me, you’re not interested… So I don’t reckon I need to be wishing for anything, baby. It’s just facts.”

You sigh and roll your eyes, knowing this all was brought up to him by none other than your best friend, “I still want to kill Amelia for telling you that.” and you elect to not blame yourself for wearing said top to his gig a few weeks after he was told about it.

Matty just smirks at you through the phone, leaning closer when he says, “I have a feeling she has more to tell actually.”

Pressing your lips together you take half a second not to react to him because she knows far too much about you that you’re not entirely ready for Matty to know yet. He’s a big boy, he can find things out for himself.

“You better not even try to get her to speak.” You point a finger at him.

“Why?” Matty raises his eyebrows playfully, but there’s a suggestive tone to his voice when he asks, “What are you gonna do about it?”

You smirk back, not letting him affect you this time, you just flirt back, “It’ll end up poorly is all I’m saying.”

“Yeah whatever,” Matty narrows his eyes at you playfully, “I’m willing to bet your bedroom has at least one poster of me up on your wall.”

“Remind me to never FaceTime you in my bedroom whilst I’m here.” You allude to him being right without actually giving him confirmation and you make sure that he will never ever see your bedroom walls.

Matty laughs at that and the both of you fall into easy conversation. Him talking about his day and you both share lots of anecdotes about your friends and family.

Neither of you have it in you to stop grinning at the other, your laughter mixing together as more stories are shared which ends up in him promising to text Amelia so she can get him your funny childhood pictures you’ve just told him about. And it seems that the sole mention of her name was enough to summon her somehow.

A text from your best friend pops up at the top of your phone as you’re talking and your eyes go a little wide when you see, IF YOU'RE IGNORING ME BECAUSE YOU'RE ON THE PHONE TO YOUR MAN I'LL BE KEEPING YOUR CHRISTMAS PRESENTS WOMAN!!! LEAVING ME ON READ FOR AN HOUR! THERE'S ONLY ONE PERSON THAT’D MAKE YOU DO THAT!!! DON’T BECOME ONE OF THOSE GIRLS THAT GETS A MAN AND STARTS IGNORING THEIR BEST FRIENDS!!!!

“Oh Christ, she’s getting arsey I’m not texting her back. One second.” You swipe off FaceTime so Matty just appears in a small corner of your screen and you quickly tap on your iMessages.

“Don’t let your friendships die because of me.” Matty chuckles a little, knowing you well enough by now that you and Ameila love each other just as much as him and the guys love each other. Nothing on the planet could break you apart.

As Matty says that, you’re replying, Wow, calm your tits Dimz! Co-dependent much?!?!

“I was doing shots with her at one this morning, she can chill out.” As you send the text off, you shake your head a little, faking annoyance and tell Matty, “She’s coming round here tomorrow too, so she needs to calm down.”

“I’ll tell her to stop interrupting us if you want?” He can already imagine Amelia’s reaction to him telling her to leave you two alone and the way he could play it so she would freak out. “No don’t because that will open up another can of worms that I can't close.” You reply with a sigh, knowing she’d make such a big thing out of one single comment from him that would leave you to clean up the mess for weeks afterwards.

That sparks curiosity in him again, having the very brief knowledge about her incessant interrogation after what had happened yesterday. “She stopped questioning you about yesterday?”

You sigh a little before explaining, “Not for the whole ride home and she outed me to her Mum which was more embarrassing.” and you will your cheeks not to burn in response to you actually telling him this.

“Did you tell her what happened?” Matty can’t help but smirk when he asks you that.

At the same time, Amelia's reply comes through and it has you wanting to throw your phone and scream, Don’t be getting cocky with me now because you’ll be getting to reenact one of those smut scenes you used to read about religiously in a few days time x

“Yes,” You answer his question with a small faintly embarrassed smile, “And she still thinks I’m not telling her everything.” It makes the both of you chuckle, but then you remember what her Mum said and you tell him, “Linda thinks I was serious about being in my slut era.”

Not rising to her games, you just respond, Goodnight Amelia x and close the app before opening Matty back up to be your full screen, and you smile seeing his big grin at what you just said.

“Only for me I hope.” He says and your smile is switched for pursed lips and narrowed eyes.

And as he says that, you see another message come through at the top of your phone that reads, Stay grounded Y/N xxx and you can practically hear her laughing from your house. The little bitch.

You hate that she holds so much power over you. All you need is for her to not tell Matty how fucking crazy you once were until after your date on New Years. You’re so close, you can’t let her fuck it now.

You roll your eyes before you’re directing all your attention back to the man who loves teasing you. “And you can keep hoping.” You state with a forced blank face, trying to appear serious.

But he scoffs loudly and rolls his eyes at you, “As if you aren’t.” And he steals your refutation from your mouth when he adds, “Do I need to bring my previous arguments back?”

Your silence is loud as you bite your tongue remembering all that he knows and what he could find out so you just give up and settle for a defeated “No.”

Winning this has a triumphant smile glowing on his face and you wish you could be stronger and not give him the satisfaction of it causing your own smile. Matty hums and then finishes by saying, “That’s what I thought.” And even when you roll your eyes at him, your smile doesn’t falter, neither does your erratic heartbeat.

Matty Healy really is going to be the death of you.

~*~*~*~ December 26th ~*~*~*~

Just like he had promised he would do, Matty calls you the following day a few hours after Amelia left to go back to her parents. You’d once again been texting Matty all morning, so he knew when was best to FaceTime you, and as soon as he was able to escape from his family again, it was the first thing he did.

“What did you get off Dimz?” He eventually asks after greeting each other. Having thought about it for quite a bit now and the curiosity is eating away at him.

And it only gets worse when you instantly reply with, “I don't want to talk about it.”

“What’s that meant to mean?” He’s taken aback by your point blank refusal to answer a simple question, and he can only think it means Amelia has caused some trouble so his curiosity grows stronger by the second.

Your defeated sigh makes him glow in anticipation of the answer, “Let’s just say the presents were themed and you will never ever see them.”

“Oh my god, tell me what you got right now.” Matty can’t take you being vague with him now because it only makes him more eager to find out.

Seeing your face, he knows you’re keeping your ground so before you even have said “Nope.” his camera pauses for a few seconds and you know he’s minimised your Facetime call to go somewhere else and by the way you can see the camera slightly shake, you ask, “Who are you texting?”

“Your best mate.” He states bluntly, almost done with his text.

The second you hear that fall from his lips, you let out a loud, “No!” as your blood runs cold and your heart drops.

Matty shrugs, sending the text without caring about your reaction, “Too late.”

And he finds you so adorable when you huff and cross your arms in annoyance. You can only say, “I hope you get lost in her dms.” since it’s exactly what you’re hoping to happen so that it saves you some great embarrassment.

“Please,” Matty waves you off, “I’m on her close friend's story.”

Once he tells you that, your heart drops once more. “No, please tell me you’re not.”

“Oh I am.” He smirks as he nods his head, very satisfied by the content he’s gotten to see from both of you. “I’ve seen you drunkenly dancing to my songs baby. Please continue with those moves for me more often.” You know exactly what he means and it makes you have to hide behind your hands as your cheeks start burning up.

But then he makes it even worse for you when he cheekily adds, “Preferably when I’m there and you’re pressed against me.”

You have no idea how you don’t scream out loud at that because you certainly just hear a deafening scream inside you. Taking a deep breath, you let your hands fall from your face and you try your hardest to appear unaffected by his words. “Maybe if you stop pushing my buttons you’ll get some of that on a lucky day.”

It isn’t necessarily an empty promise because in all honesty you would absolutely love that, but you know it’ll be a guessing game to know when the chance for that to happen will appear.

He salutes like he’s just received orders from a general and then proceeds to ask, “What did you get Amelia?” with the fakest innocence as he’s now trying to play good boy.

You shake your head at him first, but then tell him, “Aitch merch.” and both of you burst out laughing. Eventually you end up telling him that you got her a lot more than some shit Aitch merch but that was the funniest thing you got her.

An hour after the subject moved on and you completely forgot about the curly haired singer trying to see what presents you got from your best friend, Matty takes you by surprise when he excitedly gasps, “Now that is the sexiest blanket in the world.”

“Nooooo,” Your eyes go wide immediately, not even needing context about what he’s clearly just seen because you just know.

Amelia’s Christmas presents… All you can think is, Kill me now.

You’re so embarrassed as you complain, “You’re not meant to see it! How have you found it?!”

He lets out a cackle first before he finally answers, “She sent it to me but she's just put it on her story too and tagged us.”

“No!” You throw a small hissy fit as you open Instagram to check the damage. And when you see the picture she took of you proudly holding up your new blanket with a big goofy smile on your face, you yell, “The little bitch.”

You want to die because this new blanket Amelia got you, wasn’t just any regular blanket. This one has the picture of you and Matty standing beside each other, with you in your Robbers girl get up, after your chicken shop date, and it's huge. Yes you absolutely love it, but you did not want Matty to see it.

“That’s fucking amazing,” He continues to laugh and though you love hearing his chuckles, you’re too mortified to properly appreciate them. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

You frown at him like he’s lacking all forms of critical thinking, “Because you’re not a fucking psycho like she is.”

“I can see you absolutely love it from these pictures, do not lie to me.” Matty defends Amelia then, and it’s just the best set scenario because he can just continue to take the piss out of you. “That's probably the best present you’ve ever received.”

Whilst he is correct, apart from the fact he bought you presents himself so they will hold a very special place in your heart forever, you don’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

“Oh right ‘cause it’s you?” You roll your eyes at him playfully as your sarcasm is painfully obvious in your tone.

But Matty doesn’t let it faze him because he says, “Anything to do with me it’s always the best baby, you should know this already.” with the most smug expression on his face.

Looking at him with an eyebrow raised, you answer with, “I wonder how you can walk around with such a big head.”

You should’ve expected him to be funny as he says, “I wobble a little sometimes but yeah it’s alright, thanks for asking.”

Fully having to swallow your laugh and bite the inside of your cheek to keep your stern face, you simply sigh, “I hate you.”

And it becomes another sigh when he smirks at you and replies, “Well, baby, I doubt that.”

~*~*~*~ December 27th ~*~*~*~

“Hey baby.” Matty greets you with a big smile on that cheeky face of his.

You grin, “Hey Matty.” and you want to silently scream at how good he looks today.

He looks well rested and really bright and happy. His curls are unruly, just how you like them and already you want to silently scream where he can’t see you because he looks so fucking fine.

No one should be looking so good at almost 1pm the day after boxing day. The 27th is a day to do fuck all. All you’ve done today so far is make breakfast for your family and wrap the present you went out and got Matty yesterday.

“What are you up to today?” Matty asks you and you give him the boring answer of answering your emails for upcoming work events and more celebrities you have to research before the Golden Globes.

But before you have to do that, you want to speak to him, so after you finish explaining your process, you ask him, “What are you up to anyway? Have you had a change in scenery?”

You’re sure he has. It doesn’t look like his childhood bedroom that you’ve come to know when he gave you a little room tour.

“Yeah,” Matty nods, smiling at the fact you could tell, and he spins himself around so his background changes behind him as he’s explaining, “We’re somewhere in the Peak District in this house that Mum rented out for Lincoln's birthday today. Big family meal later, chefs coming in and everything.”

“That sounds like so much fun.” You can imagine how big and stunning the house might be.

He shrugs, knowing already what it’s like to have these family events and how he does enjoy them but he half wishes you were there with him. The one thing keeping him from saying it out loud is how he knows if you were there you’d be suffocated with questions.

“Hope so, but until about an hour before I’m gunna be bored as fuck and you told me to call when I’m bored so here I am bothering you again.” Matty ends up saying with a soft smile on his face, hoping to see on your face that you’re just as excited to always be talking to him like he is.

Frowning slightly you correct him, “I’m literally doing fuck all you’re not bothering me.”

That has his smile growing bigger and as he settles on his bed, getting comfortable to continue speaking to you, he asks, “What have you been up to?”

“Other than what I already told you, I’ve been really lazy and napped after I had breakfast.” A little embarrassed smile shows on your face, still a bit shy when being so open and honest to him about simple things like that.

You don’t think you’ll ever be over the fact that he said he would listen to a podcast if you were the one talking, you’d like to think that comment on your date was real, and with the way he acts you’re certain it was sincere. You’re still breathless over the fact that he’s always so attentive when listening to you talk about your pretty tame days compared to what his days look like as a musician.

And right then Matty reminds you just why, despite it all, he makes you forget everything to just focus on the way he makes you feel. “Wrapped in your new blanket?” He teases you with that smirk of his and your cheeks instantly heat up.

Trying not to smile at his satisfaction from getting you blushy again, you roll your eyes and reply, “I’m going to need you to stop referencing it please and thank you.”

Matty hums like he’s thinking about it, lips pressed and brows furrowed for a few seconds, only for it all to turn back into a smirk when he finally says, “Never.”

Your facetime ends up turning into just keeping each other company, with the conversation never really dying out. Yes there were quiet minutes throughout the call, when you were typing out an important email or Matty was reading something or other that he didn’t want to bother you with.

But you found yourselves aimlessly chatting, with time passing you by far too quickly for either of you to notice. You were googling various actors and directors who were going to be in attendance at the Golden Globes and making notes on them and because Matty was curious, he made you tell him everything that you’d found on them. He wanted your opinions on what you’d seen and if you thought they were any good or not.

Both of you laughed when Andrew Garfield was mentioned and you told him straight up that you weren’t doing any research on him because you practically knew it all. You’ve seen his new show Under The Banner Of Heaven so you didn’t really have to do much more fact finding on him as he was certainly one of your and Amelia’s favourite actors.

That in itself though, sparked Matty’s curiosity about if you put this much effort into researching your chicken shop dates, and then the inevitable question of ‘did you research me?’ to which you found your cheeks burning when you admitted to him that you didn’t have to do any for him or the band. As Matty’s smirk grew, you’re sure his ego did too and you tried your best to get back to your work as he continued teasing you for it.

Matty kept you entertained by going back to your research and adding some of his knowledge about the people you were googling about. Films that he’d liked from certain directors or intricate facts about their careers and how they got to where they are now, some actors small roles when they were younger or parts they had auditioned for and didn’t get.

Once again, speaking to the curly haired man is the easiest thing in the world. So much so, that you don’t realise just how long you’ve been talking to him until your phone pops up with the alert that you only have 20% battery remaining. And knowing it was near enough fully charged before the call started made you look at the time and you gasped when you saw it was 5:47pm.

Matty questions you on your shocked expression, wondering what had you gasping, but then it’s him who has the same reaction as you ask almost rhetorically, “How the fuck has five hours passed?”

“You’re kidding?” His jaw drops and he taps the screen to check the time on his own phone and he’s genuinely just as surprised to see you were right.

Talking to you felt like no time at all. If Matty had to guess he would have taken a shot in the dark that you two had been talking for a little over an hour and a half but no more than that.

But now he looks out of the bedroom window and sees it's dark and he realises that he’s got to be downstairs in the next 10 minutes before his Mum will undoubtedly come and shout at him for not being punctual.

“Fucking hell,” Matty gasps, immediately putting his propping the phone up against the wall of the desk he was sitting at before he starts scrambling about, “I was meant to get changed before dinner.”

Despite your best efforts, when you see him pull his top over his head revealing his chest you pretend like it doesn’t make your heart stutter for a second. Immediately flustered, especially when his next move is to walk around to the suitcase on his bed and unbuckle his jeans and drop them, leaving him in just his black Calvins.

You try and fail to keep your eyes solely on your laptop instead of your phone, but as Matty is pulling on his black dress trousers, he’s smirking back at you trying to act unbothered when you so clearly are.

The curly haired man teases, “You’re entertaining trying to not look at your phone right now.”

To try and save some embarrassment at being called out, you just admit, “I’m just trying to be a decent human being.”

“Leave your morals elsewhere because I very much enjoy your eyes on me baby.” Is what you hear next and if that’s not a green light you don't know what is.

However, that does not mean that you’re okay when you look back at your phone to see him picking out his white shirt and shrugging it on, his chest still on display, and his new tattoo standing out even more to you.

You can feel just how hot your cheeks have gone with this view you have though, and the fact you were caught out makes your embarrassment worse, but you sort of embrace it as you let yourself shamelessly watch him button up his shirt.

At the same time, you ask him with mortification clear in your voice, “Will there ever be a day where you don’t make my cheeks burn?”

It’s not like it’s even your fault at this point. He just looks so good and he’s confident in the most casual way about flaunting his attractiveness off to you. His slutty little waist that becomes defined when he tucks his shirt in, not to mention the way those trousers hug that peachy arse of his.

You need it to be New Years Eve stat. You don’t know how much longer you can take.

“Not if I can help it.” Matty smirks at you getting closer, making you blush again when he winks at you. And after he chuckles at you hiding behind your hand for a moment, he sees that he really has to head down, so he announces, “I've gotta run baby. I’ll message you though.”

“No, just go and enjoy your night.” You tell him, not wanting him to be on his phone when he should be spending time with his family. Smiling, you say, “I hope the food is good.”

“Thank you, I'm sure it will be.” Matty grins and then blows you a kiss before waving, “See ya later baby.”

“Bye Matty.” You grin, catching his kiss before blowing one back at him.

Both of you end the call with massive smiles on your faces and hearts beating a lot faster than they should be.

~*~*~*~ December 28th ~*~*~*~

It’s a few minutes past 1am and you feel like you’re back in school since you’re still doing your research on the endless list of people from the film industry that’ll be attending the event.

After you’d ended your call with Matty earlier you had wanted to go back into it but your thoughts had distracted you and you had needed to go on your phone to aimlessly scroll so your brain would shut up.

After that, Amelia had given you a call just so you could update each other on how you were going about it and sharing the information you had so far on everyone. Though that had ended up on Amelia finding out you still had a third of people to properly look through and she gave you a playful scolding for ‘letting your man distract you from work’.

You’re almost done now, only two people left and since you’re really tired you decide to put everything away and get ready to go to bed, deciding to finish the last two early in the morning tomorrow. After you come back from the bathroom with your fingers cold from the freezing water, you practically throw yourself on bed and get under the covers the quickest you could.

Forcing your eyes to close so you could get to sleep faster ends up being interrupted by your phone vibrating next to you where it's placed on the bedside table.

Frowning, you fully think it’s Amelia again but you find it so weird she’d call this late considering how she is about her early sleep schedule when she’s not out. But once you turn your phone around to see who it is, you’re met with a facetime from Matty coming through.

Answering rather quickly, “Baby?” is the first thing he says in a loud whisper as if he was trying not to make noise but failing.

“Hey Matty.” Your voice sounds hoarse from how long you’ve not spoken as you’ve been keeping quiet for everyone sleeping at your parents’ house.

That’s when Matty realises you’re snuggled up in bed already and so his eyes widen and a worried expression appears on his face. “Did I wake you up? Shit sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up.”

You chuckle at the way he’s slurring his words, and now seeing how pink his cheeks are, you can tell he’s drunk. “It's fine, don't worry I’m just being a Grandma and going to sleep early.”

“Hottest fucking Grandma in the world if you’re calling yourself that.” He states with such conviction, it has you wanting to screech into your pillows.

You’re so glad it's dark in your room so he can’t see the way you get all embarrassed. You hide into your pillow a little more but you distract him anyway by asking, “How was your night?”

“Was fucking mental baby,” Matty tells you as he puts his phone down so he can still see you, and he starts unbuttoning his shirt as he explains, “These chefs started singing and it was like a full on opera… I’m so confused as to who actually cooked the meal for us because I really dont think it was them two now.”

Your eyes wander a little as he finishes undoing his shirt, “That sounds like so much fun.”

His smile turns into a pout as he takes his shirt off and tosses it somewhere behind him. “It would have been so much more fun if you were here too.” Right after he says that, he’s grabbing his phone and plopping himself down on the bed.

You grin as he rests his elbow on the bed and his chin on his hand, “You're cute, but I bet you had a great time with your family.”

“You would have loved it. Food was amazing,” Matty’s mouth water a little reminiscing about how good it all was but when his eyes are drawn back to your face–which he can barely see–, his chest tightens thinking about just how much he wants to see you again.

So in his drunk state, he confesses, “I miss you baby… so much.”

And you can’t hide from him the fact that you feel the exact same way, so you reply with an honest, “I miss you too.”

“Is that weird to say?” He asks out but before you can even assure him that it isn’t, he continues his ramble, “I hope it's not, I just really like you and I've not felt so myself around someone in a long time. You make it easy baby, I really miss you.”

You are melting hearing him so easily say that and it has you pinching yourself to make sure you aren’t dreaming.

The feeling is reciprocated and you make sure to tell him just that, “It's not weird to say at all. I feel the same, not felt as comfortable as I do around you with anyone new for a long time.”

Matty has the biggest smile on his face after you say that, his insides coating with this warmth he’s not felt in a while and as his eyes close from how big his grin is, he continues with his sincere words, “I really like you.”

Biting your lip, you feel your stomach doing somersaults, “I really like you too.”

“I just wish you were here. I wish I was cuddling you again. You keep me warm. Helps me sleep.” He admits it all, and it’s especially that last bit that has your heart growing in size because you’ve not heard that he has trouble finding sleep lately.

You’re sure if you try to give him a cohesive answer, you’ll fail so you go straight for a little joke so you can calm yourself down at least for a few seconds. “Maybe you should have got yourself a heated blanket.”

But Matty makes it so hard to collect yourself when he rolls over on his back and you see him shaking his head, “No, I’d rather have you.”

The way his curls fall messily over the pillow, and how pretty he looks as his face softens from his exhaustion, has you wishing so hard that you were there beside him and that time would go faster just so it could be New Years and you could have him all to yourself again.

“Me and my heated blanket?” You joke once again with a little smirk on your face that he can’t really see from how dark it is and the way his eyes keep closing against his will.

“Might consider if it was your better blanket.” Matty smirks and forces his eyes open to see your reaction, which ends up being a little giggle, “You know, the one with me all over.”

“Of course you do.” You reply with your smile still unwavering on your face.

In his drunken mind he gets the tiniest bit defensive then, “I’m better than that blanket though.”

And you give him the pleasure of agreeing with him, “Yeah, I prefer the real deal.” It’s not even a burden to admit that because you would take cuddling him over anything, any day.

Matty can’t stop his giggles and his grin grows bigger at your answer. “I'm so excited for New Years. I can't wait to take you out.”

It really is all he can think about, counting down the days wasn’t enough anymore and with the way he always keeps his eyes on the hours ticking by, knowing it was an hour closer he’d be in your company again. He’s at the point now where he’s eagerly awaiting a text back from you all the time, hoping it's you calling him and not someone else.

And hearing you say, “I'm excited too.” makes him happier than he’ll ever admit.

You’re just smiling so brightly at him and he can see it dimly lit by your phone, “I think you’re gorgeous you know?” Copying your position, he lays on his side and snuggles his pillow, “I really do. You’re hot as fuck but you’re also really gorgeous.”

You have to move your phone for a second, aiming the camera to the ceiling just so you can silently scream into your pillow and thanks to his hazy mind, he misses the few seconds it takes you to let it out.

“Thank you Matty.” You finally say after you’ve brought your phone back where he can see your face.

“See? Look at you!” The brightness of your phone lit up your face and Matty found it so fucking adorable seeing you with your cheek pressed against the pillow and your messy hair, tucked in with the covers up to your chin and that grin of yours he was growing obsessed with.

“I wish I could kiss you right now.” He confesses with a sigh, making your heart beat erratically in your chest.

“Matty…” Is all that you can mutter in almost a whine as if you’re pleading for mercy on your heart.

But he doesn’t stop and when he continues saying, “What? I really enjoy kissing that pretty face of yours.” You just hide your face into your pillow, needing to at least have a break of how he’s looking at you because you can only take so much.

“No, don’t hide.” He quietly complains, making you turn back to see him on your screen and you’re about to laugh at his frown but the second he catches a glimpse of your face again, he says, “There we go.” and you’re back being an utter mess.

Your free hand covers your face that’s burning up at every little thing he keeps saying and it’s your turn now to complain about it all, “It’s so unfair!”

It almost sounds like you’re throwing a fit and he finds that hilarious so he cackles before asking, “What’s unfair?”

There’s no reason for hiding anymore, not when you’ve both been admitting many things throughout the whole call. And you know he’s saying all this because of the alcohol making it easier for him to say this all out loud to her but you hope so much that you can hear him say all of it again when he’s sober.

So pouring a bit of your heart out you answer his question, “How easily you make me go like this.”

At this point you should really know that everything to come out his mouth will have you in shambles, because that’s exactly how you feel when he replies, “Well then it’s unfair for me too because I’m a proper mess for you baby.” And he gives you more to add to the list of things that will replay in your mind forever when he continues his confessions, “Think about you all the time.”

“I can’t.” You mumble instantly, everything sending you into a brief state of disbelief along with burning cheeks and a massive smile that won’t leave your face. You hide behind your hand once again and Matty giggles with a loopy smile, loving seeing you react to him like this, but his eyes keep closing from how tired he is.

It’s endearing watching him try and continue the conversation, and you answer him as you watch him try his best not to fall asleep on you. There's another few minutes of conversation before you get his attention again and his eyes reluctantly peel open.

“Yeah?” Matty asks, but when you see his eyes focus on his phone, your heart beats a little faster seeing the way he smiles in response to seeing you.

“You need to close your curtains and turn your big light off so you can go to sleep.” You tell him because at this rate he’s just going to fall asleep as he is.

Matty hums in response, knowing you’re right, but he also can’t help but tease, “You just want me to take my pants off.” because he realises he’s still half dressed.

And when you just stutter for a response, not expecting him to say that, Matty giggles a little and the noise makes you smile. “I love teasing you.” Matty says as he gets himself up, bringing you with him to draw the curtains.

“I know you do.” You smile, and the singer can tell you’re embarrassed by him admitting that. But he loves it when you say, “I’ll have to get you back soon.”

“You can tease me anytime you like, baby.” Matty grins as you watch as his screen descends into darkness accompanied by the noise of the light switch.

As your cheeks grow warmer, you also hear the sound of his trousers presumably being unzipped and the shuffle of him getting them off. But the camera eventually settles with just the faint glow of his phone on his pretty face which is snuggling into his pillow again.

“Come get in bed with me baby.” He tiredly mumbles, “I need a cuddle.”

“I’m there in spirit.” You tell him and you find it comical that the man that claims he doesn’t sleep well with no one beside him is once again almost asleep as soon as his head hits his pillow.

His eyes are closed again, and the more he talks the slower his words come which makes you smile. He’s clearly a tired boy and you’re tired yourself so you decide to call it a night.

You softly say, “Get some sleep Matty, yeah?”

“Okay baby.” Matty nods very slightly, his eyes still closed though. But he smiles as he says, “You too.”

“I will.” You assure him, your heart bursting during this whole interaction.

But it hits you a little more when after a beat of silence he repeats himself, “I miss you.”

“I miss you too.” Your chest is truly aching with all the feelings you have stored for him.

Despite him almost being asleep, he finds it in himself to tell you, “Imma call you again tomorrow so we can plan our date, okay?”

“Okay.” You nod, despite him not being able to see you.

The sincerity in his voice has you smiling too as he says, “I'm so excited for New Years.”

“Me too.” You grin.

“Night night baby, speak to you tomorrow.” Matty mumbles, his face fully pressed into his pillow now.

You take a few seconds to memorise the sight, before you softly say, “Goodnight Matty.” and end the call.

~*~*~*~

This morning you decided you would let Matty rest, as after a night drinking you usually want to stay in bed for the majority of the morning so you’ve left him to it. You wanted to text him wishing him good morning and that you hoped his head was okay after all the wine, but you didn’t want his phone to go off and disturb his sleep, so you left it.

Instead you busied yourself, you went out and did the food shopping for the family even though you were leaving in the next few days. Regardless, you went out and did it, and as you were half way through unpacking it all and putting it away into various cupboards, your phone starts vibrating and when you take it out of your pocket you see it’s Matty FaceTiming you.

“Morningggg!” You answer excitedly as the call connects and you prop your phone on the windowsill so he can see you.

Instantly you’re met with a loud groan, and when you look at your phone, you giggle seeing that Matty’s face is all scrunched up with his head still in his pillow.

“I’m far too hungover for you to be this chipper so early on.” Matty says as he turns his brightness down on his phone a little, his eyes being far too sensitive to your light setting. “I called because I thought you’d be half asleep like me.”

“I’m sorry baby, I’ve been out this morning.” You lean forward over the worktop so you can see him properly, and you grin seeing how cute and tired he is, “I'm ready for the day.”

You don’t realise you’ve even done it, but Matty grins at you when he asks, “Did you just call me baby?”

Knowing he was right and that you must have done it, you try to maintain some confidence instead of immediately shying away like you’re used to. You ask him with raised eyebrows, “Is that not allowed?”

“It’s allowed,” Matty nods, entirely amused yet he also really loves that you said it, “But I just didn’t expect it.”

You hum, letting yourself smile at him, but you change the subject, “How are you feeling?”

“Rough.” The curly haired brunette admits, “Had one too many glasses of wine.”

Even though you could tell that last night, you coo, “Aw no.” as you don’t want him feeling unwell.

Matty lets out a long sigh before he snuggles back into his pillow, he tells you, “I need a cuddle baby.”

“Wrap a blanket around yourself and consider me giving you one.”

“Not good enough, I need you in my arms.” He says as he pulls his duvet up around his shoulders and pouts at you.

You can’t stop smiling at him as you tell him, “If I could teleport, I’d be there in a heartbeat.”

It warms his heart immensely, but so does yours when he coos, “Need you.”

“Aw Matty,” You chest aches for him, you wish you could spend a full day cuddled beside him, it's a crime you can’t yet. “Don’t make me feel bad I can’t be there.”

The curly haired man chuckles a little, but he asks you, “Can you just take me about your day with you? Podcast me.”

And you’re really not going to argue with him. You chat a little as you put your shopping away, and you do it leisurely because you always find yourself looking back at him.

You both joke a little bit about the shit that you are doing and more boring plans for both of your days, but you’re not really surprised that after forty minutes or so Matty’s eyes have fallen shut. You only notice after you finish telling him a random story from your childhood, and you see that he’s doing the exact same thing as last night.

Even today, it's still just as endearing seeing him snuggled into his pillow, and it warms your heart that he feels comfortable enough to fall asleep around you. Once again, you take a mental picture of him like that, longing to be seeing him like this in person preferably with you in his arms again.

You watch him for another minute before you catch yourself and how odd it really is of you to do. All you can do is blame it on the mental turn of events that now somehow you get to see the man you’ve fancied since you were 19 on your phone falling asleep listening to your stories that he asked to hear.

Life is fucking crazy, but you’ve never been more grateful for everything thats happened for you to get here.

You whisper, “Sleep well Matty.” before you reluctantly end the call.

~*~*~*~

“Hi.” Matty shyly greets you when you pick up, you recognise he’s wearing his Chicken Shop Date hoodie, his curls look freshly washed and the visual makes you smile even harder.

“Heyyy!” You reply just as enthusiastically as you had earlier and it’s all because you’re really growing fond of these calls of yours and you think it’ll be a habit you’d really like to actually adopt and it not only being because you’re away for the holidays on the eve of your date.

He grins at your tone but it falters a bit when he says, “I’m so sorry I fell asleep on you.”

“Don’t apologise, it's fine. You were really tired, it's fine.” You assure it hadn’t been anything to apologise for, you actually are still thinking about how pretty he looked in his slumber, all calm and soft features. It had you asking time to run so you could see it next to you once more.

But he’s stubborn as he thinks it was rude of him to fall asleep when you were talking so he tries again, “It’s not fine, I apologise.”

You’re not having it so with a stern look on your face you simply say, “Matty.” to make him stop.

It’s a short-lived expression of yours because when he automatically replies, “Baby.” your cheeks start to burn and you have to look away.

Matty chuckles when he catches the way you roll your eyes and your hands come to press against your hot cheeks, “Really it just takes me calling you baby to get you all embarrassed?”

Shaking your head without looking at him, you only say, “No comment.” knowing that he already has an idea of that being a statement and there’s no need to ask about it.

A few seconds pass and your hands are still on your cheeks, only this time your hair has fallen over your face and he can’t properly see you, and he wants to see your face when he tells you about the news for your date on New Year's Day.

His voice is soft when he says, “Don’t hide baby.”

And you get flashbacks to the night before so, “Matty, not again.” leaves your lips subconsciously, once again with that subtle begging tone since you know that whenever he starts saying things like that your chest tightens in a way that you’re not sure is healthy.

“What do you mean again?” Matty frowns utterly confused, he doesn’t remember saying that earlier.

You pause for a second to see if he’s joking but seeing his face stay blank has you laughing. “Oh, you don’t remember all that you said last night?” You tease him about it, your brain already liking what this means.

“No.” He replies with a frown, wary of what he could’ve said for you to react like this.

“I mean, it wasn’t that bad.” You start saying, fighting hard against letting it show that you’re about to mess with him, taking the best out of this opportunity really. “Do you remember calling me a gilf?”

It hadn’t necessarily happened like that but referring to his hot grandma comment that way made his face contort in the funniest confused expression that made you almost burst out laughing.

“What the fuck no? Why would I call you a gilf?” Matty tries hard to think about any reason for him to call you that but he can’t come to any conclusions.

He wants to know the context but his curiosity is left unattended when you only shrug and say, “I don't know but you did.”

“Fucking hell.” He swears under his breath, scorning himself for being such a loose mouth when drunk.

Smirking, you continue the teasing recap, “Do you remember begging for a cuddle?”

“No but I'm not surprised, this room is freezing.” That one lets him find a bit of relief since it wasn’t weird and he hopes the rest of what he said stays the same.

But he’s laughed at by his past drunk self when you continue with, “What about how much you missed me?”

“Wow, I really play it cool when I’m drunk, don't I?” He chuckles a little but he focuses on the way you seem so satisfied remembering everything, like you actually liked hearing all of it and that is enough for him to feel settled about it all.

Until you decide to play with him a little.

“Wasn’t the half of it baby.” Your smirk grows, as the cogs in your brain turn and you finally think of something that could get the best reaction out of him, “You also said something about going through my Instagram… You know, for my pictures.”

His heart drops hearing you say that and you see him freeze like he’s been caught red handed, “I told you about that?!”

And it’s when his head goes into his hand that you’ve stumbled across something you never got a second imagined would be true.

You gasp loudly, “Oh my god! What?!” is all you can almost yell in disbelief and when you see him looking incredibly concerned about it all, you burst out laughing. “Matthew! You’re nasty!” You playfully scorn between loud cackles, you cannot believe he actually just admitted to that.

“Wait, what?!” He quickly says, not truly understanding why you’re reacting like this if he had said that the night before, “Didn’t you just say I said that?”

His eyes are wide and his jaw is hanging as he’s fully shocked, it all has you doubling over in laughter, truly incapable of catching your breath. “I was joking about that.” You clear up as you finally are able to calm down and then another cackle leaves you, knowing now you have something valuable to get him back whenever he tries to tease you.

You sigh, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips, “Oh my fucking god.”

Matty’s hands are over his face again now, entirely embarrassed and he pleads, “Stopppp.” as his fingers drag down his cheeks.

But you’re absolutely loving this. “Oh this is so good to know.” You say excitedly.

“Why are you like this?” Matty sighs, his cheeks slowly getting more red and you’re absolutely loving every second.

“Can’t believe you just outed yourself like that,” You laugh, knowing that this fact that you’ve stumbled across is doing wonders for your ego, “You’re so easy, aren’t you?”

Matty pouts, “You’re being mean now.” as he tucks his curls behind his ear, something that you know by now he does when he’s a little nervous.

“If you think this is mean, you’ve seen nothing yet, big boy.” You tease, still smirking.

Matty grins and raises his eyebrows suggestively hearing you call him that, “You can call me that again.”

“Absolutely not.” You chuckle, but you keep the power you currently have over him when you state, “I’m curious now, though.”

“No you are not.” Matty shakes his head, knowing exactly what your next sentence is going to be.

“Yes,” You smirk, “And you’re gonna tell me what your favourite picture of mine is.”

“I’m not.” Matty shakes his head, trying not to show you his embarrassed smile and he can feel his face flame even more.

“Yes you are.” You demand, but he shakes his head again, so you plead, “Baby, please?”

How can he deny you when you call him baby and you’re just staring at him all doe eyed and eager. He embarrassingly admits, “The one at the Miu Miu party. Not you and Amelia, just the one of you.”

“Oh yes,” You smile, remembering what you were wearing and the picture you posted on Instagram fondly. You big yourself up, “I looked fucking hot in that mini skirt suit.”

“You certainly did, baby.” Matty smirks, agreeing with you after he unhides behind his hand and releases a long sigh.

“Right, wipe that smirk off your face because I want you embarrassed again.” You grin, not letting this go whilst his cheeks are still pink.

Matty puts on a brave face and acts unbothered now though, “Well I’m not anymore.”

“Sure you aren’t,” You tease him, “You’re sure you’re not embarrassed after you’ve just admitted to fucking your fist to my pictures?”

Phrasing it like that has Matty’s eyes jumping wide open. His dick twitches in response to your words and the various memories of him actually doing that whilst he was away on tour and the majority of this past week.

Matty says your name hoping it’ll make you stop, “Y/N.”

“Oh Y/N now is it?” You grin, finding him even more amusing now.

All he can do is sigh, and he looks straight at you as he admits, “You’re driving me insane.”

“I sure hope so.” You smile, enjoying every sweet second of his reaction, “Quite like this turn of events.”

Matty pleads, “Stop.”

“What?” You grin, acting all innocent, “I’m not saying anything.”

Matty runs his hand through his curls and sighs into the distance, as he can’t look directly at you for a few moments which amuses you further. And when he does look back at you, you love seeing him not be as cool and confident as you know he usually is with you.

“You’re never gonna let me live this down are you?” He asks you, and you hope that you’ll be able to draw this reaction out of him again sometime.

“Never.” You confirm, grinning like a fool, absolutely loving how sheepish he currently looks.

You understand why he likes doing this to you now.

“Can’t wait for you to see my Golden Globes dress.” You bite your lip loving the way his eyes seem to light up at the mere mention of it, but then roll back when you add, “Might ask for the thigh slit to be even higher.”

Matty lets out a groan of pleasure at the mere thought and the noise makes you press your thighs together. Thankfully the man can’t tell as his eyes are closed as he’s groaning, “You’re going to murder me.”

You chuckle a little at that and nod once he looks back at you. This might be the best news of your life.

Matty Healy has cum to the thought of you. Life goal achieved. Next goal is to make him cum in person, and hopefully he will return the favour so you can die a very very happy woman.

“What about the one where I'm in my GQ awards dress at the hotel?” You have to ask, because that is one of the others that you think he’d use. “Did you like that one?”

“Yeah, I liked those ones too.” Matty reluctantly admits, loving but hating the fact this has you all excited.

“Mhm, bet you did.” You tease him again, “Dirty boy.”

“Don’t start with that.” He sighs like it pains him to hear those words come from your mouth, but it’s a pain caused by not having you right there with him because a second later he’s smirking at you through the screen, “Are you trying to get me going?”

You match his smirk, your tummy fluttering at the way he’s looking at you, “Should I be?”

Matty continues teasing you so the previous conversation is dropped, smirking even more at the way you seem to be recoiling into yourself under his gaze, “Dunno, depends on which mood you’re in, baby.”

But you know what he’s trying to do, so you bring it all up over again, “I don’t think I really need to do much now, though. Can just show you my Instagram account from now on.”

He lets out a long sigh, his face completely falling after your words, “Oh you love knowing this, don’t you?”

To taunt him more, you nod eagerly with the biggest grin on your face, feeling triumphant really, “Absolutely. I have you right here.” You point at the palm of your hand, eyes narrowed playfully at him and nose slightly scrunched as if you’re taking the piss out of him.

All it takes for you to fold is him saying, “You sure do baby.” in such a sweet voice with the softest of smiles.

“Stop it.” You warn, pressing your lips together as you’re really holding back from reacting but you feel everything he says lighting up every nerve on your body.

Matty chuckles, his eyes still staring at you like it’s impossible for him to look somewhere else, “What?”

You roll your eyes at his attempt to appear innocent and you shake your head to say, “Just let me have my moment.”

“Right, sorry.” His hands are up as if he’s giving up yet a shit eating grin breaks on his face and his stare is so intense you have to look away.

You warn him before you even look back at your phone, “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” He tries to sound the most confused, “M’not doing anything.”

You point an accusing finger at him when you turn back, “You are! And you know exactly what it is.” He seems to grow even more amused at your reaction, making you sigh, “How have we gone from bullying you for getting off to my pictures to me not being able to look at you, fucking hell.”

He shrugs his shoulders, “I have that effect.”

“I don’t need you having a bigger ego, so stop it.” You try to make your statement serious but he can see straight through you and the way he’s got you right where he wanted.

“Do you really want me to stop though?” Matty plays with you, an eyebrow raised and you squirm in your seat in silence. He lets you sulk in the lack of words but when it gets longer than he expected, he just can’t hold back from teasing you even more, “Cat got your tongue?”

Keeping your stoic face the best that you can, you shake your head, “Just thinking of a way to shut you up.”

But your whole face falls when he replies, “If you were here baby, there’s loads of ways I would love for you to shut me up.”

His eyes scream mischief, and you cannot wait to find out what it is that he’s been thinking about and planning for weeks for your date that is so soon, you just can’t quite believe it, “Only two days now.” You bite your lip to conceal the massive smile that’s threatening to tug at the corner of your lips.

Yet you fail because seeing you smiling this big at him, has Matty matching it and his insides melt thinking about having you next to him once again, “Couldn’t go slower if you ask me.”

And you’re about to say how you feel the same way, like time is playing tricks on you when something seems to go off in his head and he continues, “Oh, that reminds me,” Matty smiles, “I have questions about New Year’s Eve?”

You raise your eyebrows curiously, and you lean forward giving him all your attention, “Go on.”

“So George and Charli are hosting their first party in their new house in the evening and I wondered if you wanted to go to that? And if you did, I still want to take you out so thought I could take you out to dinner earlier on and then we go to their party whenever.” Matty tells you but he also doesn’t want you to feel like you had to spend the night with other people when your original plan was to spend it with just him, “It’s honestly fine if you don't wanna go to theirs, I can take you out later on then, but if you did I will take you out earlier.”

You can see that the singer is rambling on for nothing though, because you nod, “I’m up for going to their party if they won't mind me coming.”

“They don't mind at all, George asked me to ask you.” Matty tells you, “He said Amelia can come too if she wants.”

And Matty is telling you the truth, when George asked him if he was coming, Matty point blank said no and that he was going on a date with you and then George told him to bring you with him afterwards. He said to invite Amelia too if she wasn’t already busy and Matty promised he would ask.

He’d been nervous about it though because he didn't want you to think that he was trying to get out of your date to go to his mates house. It was the complete opposite, he would rather spend the night with you, yet at the same time if you felt comfortable enough, he’d love for you to become friends with his friends too.

“I’ll ask her, thank you.” You smile, and clarify, “So we’re going out earlier?”

“Yeah,” Matty nods, and he suggests, “Maybe I could pick you up about four and we go out near you in Brixton somewhere? And you can stay at mine later when we get back from George’s?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” You nod, trying not to smile like a fucking idiot.

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest at the mere thought. Never have you ever been more excited for a date, and you’ve been on a lot of them at this point.

“You ever been to The Laundry?” Matty asks, bringing you out of your thoughts.

Thinking about it for a moment, you remember the restaurant he’s talking about and nod, “I went in for drinks once last year I think. It’s nice.”

Matty smiles and raises his eyebrows curiously, “Would you let me take you there?”

As if he even needs to ask.

“I’d go to McDonalds with you, Matty.” You try and put it as plainly as possible how little you care about where it is you go. As long as you’re with him, you will have a great time, “I took you on a date in a Chicken Inn, anything is better.”

“Okay,” Matty chuckles, realising as well that it really doesn’t matter. He had fun on your last date and he knows that’s everything to do with you and not just the bit that the both of you were playing up to. So he smiles and nods, “I’ll book a table for like half four and then we can go to George’s afterwards. If that sounds okay with you?”

“Sounds perfect.” You bashfully grin, really letting yourself get excited about it now.

Matty grins right back, but it's more in reaction to your face in the corner of his screen as he’s putting in his details for the reservation that makes him pause. You look so fucking cute, he can’t help but tease you a tiny bit as he taps back onto the FaceTime so you take up his full screen again.

Matty asks, “What’s that smile for?”

At the risk of being cringe, you don’t hide your emotions from him this time. “I’m excited… I’m happy.” You shrug a little, feeling your cheeks heat up at the admission, but you ask, “Am I not allowed to smile?”

“Course you are.” Matty grins right back, and he takes a screenshot of how cute you look in this moment, before he ruins it by teasing you even more. “I just like knowing I'm the cause of it, baby.”

At this point, you drop your phone so he can’t see you anymore. You really just need to take a second to silently scream and not look all flustered in front of him.

You can hear him laugh and you silently scream into your hands for a moment before taking a deep breath and designing some composure. Matty laughs when you pick your phone up and you have your lips pressed together and you look all flustered.

Even more so when you whisper, “You’re going to be my cause of death.”

He teases you for a minute more until he goes back to finishing the reservation. You chat as he does it, and the both of you confirm the time of half 4 and then Matty books it.

Truly, you’ve never been so excited for a date. And Matty feels the exact same. Maybe it's because he’s never actually had to wait for a date this long, but also because he is genuinely so excited to be back in your company soon.

You spend the next half an hour talking about everything and nothing. But you do end up asking him about his plans, “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“We have to leave this house tomorrow, so I think because I’m not too far away from Sheffield imma go call and see Wheels and Alex,” Matty tells you, although he should probably text his best friend and ask if he can just gatecrash her day. The curly haired man explains, “I think they are up visiting her best friend and Alex’s family.”

“That sounds fun.” You smile, “You’ll have a great day.”

“I always do when I see her to be fair, she’s one of my best friends.” Matty smiles, “She’s a gem.”

You can’t help but think that’s pretty adorable of him. You’re aware she’s his ex-girlfriend, but she’s happily married to another legend and the way Matty still regards her so highly after so many years of not being together must mean she’s lovely.

And you’ve followed her for years, just like you had Matty, and you’ve always thought she was great. So there’s nothing stopping you from nodding and agreeing, “She seems it on her socials.”

Matty smiles hearing that, but he also gets a little excited when he realises and tells you, “You’ll meet her.”

“I will?” You raise your eyebrows questioningly.

“Yeah, I’m certain that she’s going to George and Charli’s.” Matty thinks out loud. “I’ll double check tomorrow.”

You hum in response to that, smiling and the thought just makes you even more excited for New Years. But you then get lost in your thoughts for a moment, wanting to know something but you don’t know whether you should ask or not.

After internally debating it for a few seconds, you just ask Matty, “Can I ask you a personal question?”

Matty nods, “Course you can.”

He has nothing to hide from you, and you’ve been hiding nothing from him so he doesn’t mind telling you things about himself.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” You give him the option, not wanting to pry too much.

Matty brushes it off and encourages you, “Hit me baby.”

“Okay Britney Spears.” You chuckle a little before you go serious and ask him your question, “Do you get on with Alex now?”

“Because from an outsider's point of view - who obviously has no real insight into what was happening - it always seemed like a personal dislike you had between you. Like it wasn’t just for the sake of not liking each other, it was actually fuelled.” You look around your room as you find your words to ramble on but when you glance back at Matty and can’t quite gauge his reaction, immediately you backtrack, “I’m not explaining this well. Sorry… You don’t have to answer.”

“No, it’s okay.” Matty assures you and he goes on to say, “The simple short answer is yes. We get on, and everything is fine now.”

Matty continues with a small smile on his face when he explains, “Even I find it funny sometimes that after a decade of not liking him, he’s actually a really good mate now. Makes me laugh, can chat about things that aren’t just music and we can both embarrass Wheels so it’s quite funny too.”

You absolutely love that nickname he has for her. You sort of only know 1975 lore of where that nickname actually came from, but you’re sure you’ll ask him or her at some point if you do end up meeting her at George’s party.

“I’m sure one day I’ll tell you the full story, it’s too heavy for a FaceTime… I’d wanna tell you in person,” Matty pulls on the end of his curls before he tucks the ringlet beside his ear as he says that, which again you notice is his nervous behaviour, “But yeah, we’re friends and he’s actually a good laugh.”

Recognizing he was a little nervous saying that, you shake your head, “You don’t have to tell me anything… I wasn’t prying for details, I just wondered if you got on.”

Matty can see you starting to panic a little, so he eases your worries, “No, I know you weren’t, but I will tell you at some point… It’s everything that’s made me into who I am today so I don’t want to hide it from you.”

Hearing how sincerely he said that makes your chest ache. And you get the vibe the story will be a rollercoaster of emotions so the mere fact he actually felt comfortable enough with you to even discuss possibly telling you, means the world to you.

When you softly tell him, “As long as you’re comfortable with that.” Matty can’t get the smile off his face.

You're far too cute for your own good. All he wants to do is hug you and cuddle you into him and never let go.

He assures you, “You make me comfortable, baby.” and your heart proceeds to melt.

Christ knows how you’re going to make it through this date.

“Good, I’m glad…” You trail off, that smile now back on your lips as you're entirely obsessed with him. But that’s not to stop you from teasing again, “Will you sort out my dates with them tomorrow please?”

Of course Matty fakes an offended gasp then though and you have to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing. The singer asks with wide eyes, “Can we have our second one first please?”

You laugh and nod, but instruct him, “Just plant the seed and I’ll do the rest.”

~*~*~*~ 29th December ~*~*~*~

Both you and Matty stayed up chatting again last night, both until you were almost falling asleep on each other again. And today with him being busy you’ve not FaceTimed because he had been busy with family in the morning, and he’d gone to Sheffield in the afternoon, and you were spending the evening and night over at Amelia’s.

Regardless though, you’ve been in contact most of the day, and it's been incredibly flirty. And that all started this morning after you’d already been messaging for a while and you moved on to the topic of the films you had to watch for the Golden Globes, but then the conversation changed to what your favourite films of all time were.

You seem to have pretty similar taste in films, despite the few niche ones that Matty name dropped that you had yet to see. He said that you could watch them together, but you said if that’s the case, then you’d be making him watch some Rom Coms that he’d yet to see because he thought they were too cringe, but he would trust your judgement.

You name a few, and Matty ends up scorning you for watching La La Land and you automatically defend it. Telling him that it has to be one of the ones that you watch together because it's full of music and romance, but then you warn him that he isn’t allowed to make fun of you when you inevitably cry at it.

Noooo baby, you can’t be upset when you’re with me, can’t have that xx Is the message you receive first, and he makes you coo at your phone but then he sends you another which makes you have a completely different reaction: However, I’m always here if you ever need a shoulder to put your legs on xxx

The gasp that you let out makes your family that you’re sitting around look at you and ask if you’re okay. Obviously, you just play it off like you’ve not just had a mini stroke in reaction to that message.

He really is going to be the death of you.

You take a minute to compose yourself, and you literally have nothing to reply to that other than scorning him. Because you really can’t be sexting him so early in the day.

Matthew…

It’s 11am!

His reply seems innocent, but you know he’s far from it. You can practically picture his smug grin as he typed out, Just giving you something to think about, take your mind off being sad x

You decide to scold him whilst also flirting, Yeah, and putting me in an entirely different mood xx

But Matty just teases you right back, Mhm good, think of me baby xx

You’re a menace xx You reply, biting your lip to try and stop the embarrassed smile that’s dying to make an appearance on your face.

When his reply comes through, all you can do is shake your head, You know it xxx

Flirting like this goes on for the rest of the day. Many times does he have your jaw dropping at his teasing messages, but you give it him right back most of the time.

You fear that he only liked you on your date because of your un-fussed humour that you can turn on and off, so you bring that back for some of your texts. You want to appear more confident to him and not always the embarrassed and flustered mess that you are most of the time when you FaceTime.

If anything continues after New Years, you’re sure that you’ll become accustomed to Matty and what he’s like, but you really don't want to get too ahead of yourself. So you just make yourself appear more in control of your emotions over text and you flirt with him first too when the opportunity arises, and Matty can’t lie he loves it. But he also loves when he can see that he’s got all flustered too. He just really likes you.

The day seems to pass the both of you by, never really being out of contact and before either of you know it, it’s quite late on in the evening and Matty has just crawled into the spare bedroom of his friend’s flat.

He’s just had a shower and he’s quite happy to actually just spend some time texting you without any other distractions. What are you up to baby? xx

Matty knows that you’re either still at Amelia’s family home, where you’d spent most of your afternoon and evening, or you’re about to be on your way home. Selfishly, he hopes that you’re alone again now so you can FaceTime each other.

But unfortunately that’s not going to happen as he finds out you’re still with your best friend when you reply:

Nothing just finding my 2022 dump pictures because Amelia is beside me pestering me to do one before the year is up x And a few seconds later, he also receives, What about you? xx

Matty tells you honestly, Still at Wheels and Alex’s flat, I had a drink so they said I could stay the night. Just got in bed xx

But he’s just gave you a nice opportunity to tease him so you say, Threesome sounds hot xx

And you’re left expecting a snarky comeback but your throat runs dry when he replies with a sarcastic, Please and a selfie of himself shirtless in bed, completely alone and follows it with, No sex for me tonight. I’d need you here baby xx

Biting your lip, you quickly type, Such a shame I’m not there, I’m sure you’ll survive xxx

You’re trying so hard not to react so Amelia doesn’t pry into your conversation but he makes it so hard for you when the next thing he says is, Don’t think I will, wanna facetime? xx

For your own sake you decide to make a joke out of it, just in hopes to get your heart rate back to normal and your cheeks to not be burning, Wow somewhere in the distance I can hear Too Shy playing xxx

Yet that continues to not work out for you because he has your breath hitching in your throat and your heart racing even faster when his text comes through and it says: Mmm no, I need to fuck you properly first before we do it over the phone xxx

Fucking hell.

You close your eyes and bite your tongue for a moment and will yourself not to have any reaction so your best friend doesn’t ask what was said. When you open your eyes you take a deep breath before typing out your reply as if that hadn’t taken your breath away and made you press your thighs together.

Have it all planned out do we? xx

And it’s barely a minute later he replies.

You know I do xx

The memory of him admitting to having enjoyed your pictures before, comes to the forefront of your mind then and now reading that text, you’re fully giddy knowing he wants you just as bad as you want him. So you ask for some more information, How’d you like to have me then? xx

Legs up and wide open for me preferably xx

Yep, you definitely need to go home.

Whilst you’d love to continue with the way this is going, you really can’t whilst you're still with Amelia. You end up responding a little sarcastically with, That sounds like a workout x

He replies with, You best be up for some cardio then baby x and you’re just glad it’s back to normal flirting that has you a bit more composed.

If it’s with you, can’t wait xx You cheekily say, a smirk on your face that he can’t see but he’s definitely picturing as he reads your text.

And it’s him saying, Awh yay, gym buddies! x next that has you hiccupping a laugh.

Fuck off, you dickhead😂 is all you say back, biting the inside of your cheek when Amelia looks up from her phone with a frown at the way you’re shaking from chuckles scaping your lips.

Thankfully she’s more entertained with what’s on her phone so when Matty says, Don’t start calling me that now, I might like it x back and you silently laugh at it, she ignores you.

You fake having known that and smartly reply, I was just trying to get you in the mood for what I’m about to post x

But his next text has you pausing and holding your breath as it says, I’m rock hard baby, don’t worry x and now all you’re left wondering is if he’s being honest or playful.

Trying not to hint the way that has you head scrambled, you tell him, I’ve got you covered baby x

A massive grin tugs at the corners of your lips when you see his next text reads, I hope I’m going to appear in it xx

But you want to keep teasing him some more so you only give him a vague, Maybe if I'm feeling generous xx to keep him on his toes.

If you could see him through your screen, you’d see the way he’s just smirking at his phone like a lunatic and how fast his fingers move on the keyboard to send, You better had baby xxx

Guess you’ll just have to wait and see xxx

You’re playing it so cool now but you’re very much looking forward to seeing his reaction to some of the pictures you’ve chosen to be in your next Instagram post.

You chuckle softly when he says, And how long will that wait be? xx

And Matty can hear your voice in his head when he reads that you reply with, Someone’s eager x

All he can say to that is the truth and it has you internally squealing when you read him say, For you? Always x

Matty is left to scroll though the things he’s missed whilst he’s been socialising today as you’re taking your time to reply. He likes to think he’s teased you enough to have you all flustered for him, but in reality you’re saying your goodbyes to Amelia and her family before getting in the car and driving a few minutes back to your parents.

As soon as you get in though, you select all the pictures you and Amelia had just chosen out and you post them captioning it as, 2022 you were the year dreams came true, onto my even more slutty 2023 x

Matty jumps as the notification comes through on his phone. He was waiting for your reply anyway but seeing that come up at the top of his screen has Matty wishing his phone would work faster so he could see what you’ve posted.

After a long agonising ten seconds, your profile loads along with your new post and he smiles at the caption you put on that all but quotes his words on your first date. But then his eyes are drawn up to the post itself and he’s eager to see what awaits and he likes it instantly.

The pictures you’ve posted range from cute to sinful, and Matty can’t help but love every single one. There's a few of you and Amelia, both of you having fun and it’s clear for anyone to see that you’re the best of friends and you love each other loads.

There's a few other behind the scenes pictures of a few of your dates. But Matty’s heart feels full when he gets to a picture where he can see you’ve got the Polaroids you and he took after your date pinned up. He’s so beyond glad he makes an appearance in these pictures.

There’s another picture of you in that Miu Miu mini skirt suit where you’re dramatically posing in the hallway of a hotel against the wall which has him groaning a little. There's another in your outfit from London Fashion Week, and then he’s met with a picture of you and Phoebe Bridgers taking a selfie where you’re pulling faces at your phone.

The second to last one makes him laugh too, and he knows it’s from Boxing day because it was a picture of your new blanket that features him on it. This time instead of you holding it up, it’s lay out on your bed and you have lay over yourself and you're grinning down at ‘him’ trying not to burst out laughing.

Matty is on his way to bully you for posting two pictures of him in your 2022 dump, and he’s about to call you a simp when he checks the last picture. And immediately you’ve got him in a chokehold.

His dick twitches in response to seeing it, and he palms himself to try and ease the way blood is rushing to it seeing this picture of you.

Whilst the second to last picture is a wholesome one of you lying down on your bed, this one is far from in. In this one, you’ve got your dress on that you wore for the GQ awards - and Matty knows it's the one because he’s looked at it far too many times at this point - and in this picture you’re propping yourself up on your elbow, whilst holding a rose down to your lips from above with your other arm.

It’s the dress that has Matty in pain though. The way your breasts look like their about to burst from the top of it, begging for the restricting material to be released, and the thigh slit of the dress is showing the curve of your arse as you’ve picked that leg up, crossing it over the other with your Louis Vuitton heels still on.

And now Matty is growing harder with the more he looks at you, and somehow he knows you’ve posted this one just for him. To toy with him, to edge him, to tease him, because that’s what he’s been doing to you all day.

Reluctantly, he tears his eyes off the picture of you to go back to message you, accusing, You did that last one on purpose x

Got my notifications on I see… It’s only been a minute since you posted so you decide to taunt him for it, Obsessed.

You’re certain he’s just rolled his eyes at you when he comes back with, Don’t let it go to your head xx

No way are you letting him get away with it though, instead you encourage him to do what he apparently normally does with your more revealing Instagram pictures. You reply, Enjoy yourself baby x

And you should be surprised, but you genuinely aren’t when he tells you, Call me that again please xx

You’re smirking at your phone at this point as you head upstairs to your room as you start typing out, Oh baby, do you also need my hand to take your mind off doing this at your best friend and her husband’s place? x

And then you throw yourself on bed to wait for his response, which comes back very quickly after and it hilariously says, Don’t be a smartarse baby, you’re making this weird x

You’re giggling to yourself, knowing he’s just trying to sneak his way out of the way you’re giving him a taste of his own medicine with your teasing so you call him out on it by sending him a text that reads, Even if I made it weird you’d enjoy it far more than you’d expect it, don’t fool yourself x

Just to toy with him a bit more and continue to test the waters with him, you make sure to add, I expect at least a thank you in return x

The, You can get a little more than that x that he sends next has you squealing into your pillow for a few seconds but when you bring yourself to look back at your screen and type a response, you see he’s sent something more that has you breathless.

It’s a picture of himself that reminds you quite a lot of the Consumption bit at the shows, for he has his free hand down his underwear and since he’s got no trousers on you can clearly see his We Are Kings tattoo in all its glory.

But what has your mouth going completely dry is the fact that it’s a live picture and when you curiously press on it to see if you can get anything else from it, you find yourself hearing Matty let out a soft moan of relief when his hand disappears under his pants.

All inhibitions are out of the window after that, and you let yourself be openly horny for him then when you say, I like that sound you made there x and as if that information wasn’t enough, you just need to let him know, I’ll be having fun with that later, thanks baby x

Matty had no idea noises could be hear from the picture so he pressed on it to hear it himself, cheeks blushing when he listens to what you’ve pointed out and in attempt to sound like he meant it, he types, I knew you’d enjoy that x

He finds himself thinking there had been a switch in you after he sent that and he loves to have it confirmed when he reads you’ve texted him, I hope you think of me the way I’ll be thinking of you later tonight x

Should I be expecting to hear my name all the way from Muswell Hill then? x He hopes you don’t hide back because this is just another taste of what he got that night in your room when you both got carried away and even though he stopped it before anything could happen, he’s been playing it on his mind and growing fonder of that side of you.

You decide you have to tease him then, because after the picture you just got, you want to give him something else to think about. Opening your camera, you immediately turn off live pictures because you’re not having the same thing happen to you.

After pulling your top off, you ruffle up your hair, just enough so it’s not neat as it lies around your shoulders and you lean back against your pillows again. Picking your phone up, you turn it landscape and you take a few pictures of yourself that show off some cleavage but leave out what he’s dying to see.

And you settle on one picture in particular where half of your face is cut off, but your mouth is open and it almost looks like you’re moaning in the picture. Your fingers grazing your collarbone, hair sprawled out over your pillow and covers over you just enough for him to be left begging for them to come off.

Mhmm hope you heard it xxx Is what you add as a caption to the picture and it’s a lie to say that you aren’t biting on your thumb nervous to see his reaction.

Matty takes a good minute after the picture comes through to process it all. His instant reaction is a loud groan that has him throwing his head back and cursing under his breath. He isn’t sure what else to say back other than, Fuck me x since his head is all scrambled from seeing you like that.

In 2 days xx You cheekily reply, and still feeling the power you have over him, you continue with, Good things come to those who wait x

His text comes faster than the last one and it only says, Cum* xxx

You giggle seeing that message come through, but with him still replying to you, you don’t think he’s doing with that picture of yours as you intended, so you tease him, Replying still??? Don’t edge yourself on my account baby xx

Watching the three dots come up on your phone feels like edging itself though. You’re hanging off his every word but you can’t let yourself feel ashamed about it. Especially when you see his response.

Oh but I love a bit of edging xx

You choke when that comes through. You had your theories but to see it written down and the fact he’d said it makes your mouth a little dry and you’re trying not to get flustered at all the thoughts running round your head.

You bite your lip as you type your reply, almost nervous to even be this forward over text with him. Holding your breath, you tap send on, You’ll change your mind on that after I have you begging to cum xx

The squeal that you let out when you see it change from sent to seen is obscene, and you find that you can’t look at your phone because you’re a little scared for his reply. When you see the three dots bubble up in the corner of the screen you end up throwing your phone to the end of your bed as you can’t handle the anticipation.

After a minute, you collect your phone knowing his reply will have come through by now. And when you see his message, You can’t do this to me right now baby x you can’t help but laugh.

Reading back over that has you smirking to yourself and gathering some more courage, you end up reminding him, You started it x and you scold him and you have to tease him one last time before you call it a night, Don’t give what you can’t take xx

Once again he shows you just how everything you give him, he can give you back three times worse when his reply comes through and you read, I’ll show you all I can give on new years baby, promise xx

It’s pure excitement that bubbles in the pit of your stomach and you’re sure that tonight you’ll go to bed dreaming of what that day will be like.

It’s not teasing anymore when you leave him with a, Can’t wait xxx

You can only hope that when you wake up the next morning, the day magically rushes by and the hours shorten just so you can finally go on the second date you’ve been thinking about for ages.

~*~*~*~ 30th December ~*~*~*~

“You know,” Matty raises his eyebrows at you through and you can’t help but take a screenshot of how cute he looks, “I think it’s really rude that we’re both back in London and you won’t let me come see you.”

Both of you got home today, you around midday and Matty just a few hours ago as he’d been driving for most of the day. You’ve been on your FaceTime about an hour and a half now, and Matty keeps complaining how you won’t let him come over.

But you really can’t, you’ve got no self restraint left at this point, you would never make it to the date if he came over, so you just keep with your initial plan.

You shrug him off again and say, “I like to build tension. What can I say?”

Matty sighs, his chest deflating as he pouts again, “I should have just driven an extra hour and come straight to see you.”

“No,” You shake your head, “Because you can’t be trusted keeping those hands of yours to yourself. You have my Instagram at your disposal if you wanna get yourself off tonight.”

Not that you have a leg to stand on. You’re practically itching to get your hands on him again. You’re dying to fuck him after your conversation last night. This truly has been the longest week of your life.

Matty closes his eyes and dramatically falls back onto his settee as he says, “You’re never letting me live it down, are you?”

“Nope,” You grin victoriously and you love the way he opens his eyes and he pretends to be annoyed about it, but the more he looks at your smile the more he can’t help but grin at you. You tease him a little more as you say, “Hope you enjoyed last night's treat too.”

“Alright, enough.” Matty says a little louder before he brings his phone closer to his face and warms you, “I’ll make you pay for it tomorrow.”

You smirk at that, and despite knowing exactly how he meant it, you turn the comment on its head and play innocent, “I don’t mind paying for our food.”

“I wasn’t talking about the food.” Matty smirks right back, knowing what you’re up to and he loves the way you can’t work up the courage

“I’m excited to take you out.” Matty smiles wholesomely, dropping the act now to be genuine.

“I’m excited to finally be going out,” You grin, your heart beating a little faster at the mere thought of what tomorrow could hold. “It feels like the longest three months we’ve had this planned for.”

Matty hums in agreement, “Longest of my life.”

You’ve got a feeling that after tomorrow, your life won’t ever be the same again. And you can’t wait.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A/N: We hope you enjoyed this one! Rest assured that New Years Eve is coming next, and it’s spicy! Thanks a million for reading, we can’t wait to hear your thoughts on this one! See you soon with the next part over at @imagine-that-100 blog! xx

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