#girlie gave me a migraine ...

[mikarchive2]

society if žižek actually made sense and could explain his philosophy coherently

#girlie gave me a migraine ... #🌺

[scudslut]

Sins and Honey Flavored Sweetness

daryl x fem!reader

wordcount: 4.7k

warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut under the cut, perv!daryl (not really, he just has a lil crush), male masturbation, unprotected p-in-v, oral f!receiving, mutual pining

a/n: i have never written something so descriptive ohmygod. do be warned lol, hugs and kisses byeee <33

Daryl knew there were unspoken boundaries when it came to you.

A thin line of loose salt, that whispered to him. Beckoned him huskily to dust his fingers through and have a taste, but daunting enough for him to keep his soles rooted in the dirt, salivating from a distance.

It wasn’t because you were already spoken for in any way; if anything, you kept your romantic interests simmering farther on the back burner than he did, which spoke volumes in itself. Or because you were younger than him, a couple of years wasn’t anything to turn a nose up over, especially nowadays.

It was, however, the place you held amongst your people. You were like bright, shiny gold within the group, dared not to be corrupted or led astray. The heart that kept everyone’s beating, even in the darkest of times, soothing hope into the atmosphere with your infectious smile.

Oh, and you were Rick's younger sister... which he hated to admit, only tempted him more. And he wasn’t quite sure as to why.

He’d mulled it over too many times to count, noting everything about you that allured him so intensely.

He liked the contrast between you two; like sun rays peeking through the clouds after a mid-summer storm. You were soft, fresh as clean linen and he was dark, brooding. He often fantasized about taking that sweet innocent nature of yours and painting it with his essence. He knew it was wrong and constantly shamed himself for having such perverted thoughts about his best friend's sister. But, god, how could he not?

Not when you pranced around him daily, teasing him with your velvety, feminine voice and kind touches. Touches that sent brisk shivers down his spine, sure to leave him breathless and bothered — another thing he secretly liked. You were addictive in that sense, he’d distance himself the minute he felt the familiar rush coursing through his veins and then crave it immediately once it was gone. A drug he couldn’t help but relapse from.

And it didn’t help that you were always so keen to assist him, doting on his every injury or problem with such gentle attentiveness and sincerity. That might be what he liked the most. It was fascinating how pure you remained in a world so plagued, always ready to nurture. It soothed a deep, restless, and scarred part of him, finding solace in it.

He'd come to learn you were like that with everyone though. So, he found himself grappling with things to deter your attention his way, playing dumb and clumsy just to have your sweet scent fill the nearby air. He felt like a horny teenager with a hopeless crush. It was absolutely ridiculous and yet, here he was once again, feet dangling off your kitchen counter as you searched the cabinets for some aspirin to aid in his 'headache'. 

It wasn't a complete lie per se - his sensitivity to light gave him troubles quite often but, whether it was enough to complain about or not, could be debated.

Nonetheless, he sat for you patiently, listening to your quiet humming as you searched about. He loved when you did that, singing your soft melodies under your breath mindlessly. It was such a girly thing to do, but it was comforting in a way, an airy blanket warming the silence.

"Ah, here it is!" drew him out of his thoughts, and he cast a glance at your bright smile of accomplishment. You popped the cap open swiftly, shaking out 2 little white pills, and handed them over with a glass of water.

“Let me know if you need any more. They should kick in soon, but I know how tough migraines can be,” you soothed, your sympathy never faltering. He bowed his head quickly, not wanting you to see the flash of guilt that surely crossed it. "Thanks," he mumbled as he tossed his head back, swallowing them both with a shivered grimace.

Wiping the water droplets from his chapped lips, his eyes found yours again and noticed a small smirk hidden in your features. “What?”  

You let out a chuckle, reaching for the glass he held to wash, “Oh nothin’... just don’t think I’ve seen you cringe like that before, is all.” 

His brows furrowed at your statement, “So?” he questioned further.

“Walkers, blood, rotting flesh… never. But an itty bitty pill?” Your laugh grew louder, finding the situation even more amusing as you explained it to him. “Whatever,” he scoffed, hopping off the counter with a smirk. He knew you would be expecting him to leave after that, you had helped him with his ‘issue of the day’ and there was no reason to linger any further. But he did.

Daryl scanned your frame as you washed the few dishes that were in the sink, chewing on his thumb habitually. You wore a white, long-sleeve shirt with a faded band logo printed on the front and some beaten-up blue jeans that seemed to cup your ass perfectly.

His mind wandered before he could stop it, imagining how soft and warm your skin must be underneath all those clothes. How soft and warm your hands would be wrapped around him, or better yet, your pretty lips taking him deep with a moan. He felt his own jeans tighten slightly and quickly diverted his gaze to the floor, clearing his throat as if it would erase those thoughts from his brain.

“Something else you need, Daryl?” You glanced over your shoulder, wrists deep in soapy water. 

“Nah, uh, thanks. I’ll see ya later,” he said and beelined for the door praying to god you didn’t see his flushed face and half-hard cock poking through his pants. He was so fucked. Couldn’t even look at you anymore without sprouting boners and picturing you on them, milking him greedily. 

He rushed down the porch and across the lawn, bursting into his shared house with Carol just next door. He didn’t even glance toward the kitchen to see if his friend was home, desperate for a cold shower to level him out. The house was dead quiet anyway, leading him to assume Carol was out for the day.

"Such a fuckin idiot," he cursed himself under his breath as he made his way down the stairs to his room. You probably knew honestly. Could tell how pathetically bothered you got him, and just put on a friendly face to keep from embarrassing him.

He left the bathroom door open in his distress and hastily shed his clothing, stepping into the tepid water. Immediate relief flooded his senses, feeling the cool stream wash away the sweat and grime the day had caked on. Pouring some homemade soap he was given into his hand, he scrubbed at his skin, determined to rid himself of your previous interaction along with the dirty thoughts that plagued his mind. He shouldn’t be thinking about you that way, it just wasn’t in the cards.

For starters, you would have to want him too, (which he knew would never happen), and even if you did, how the ever living fuck would he explain that to Rick?

‘Oh hey Rick, I have a massive hard-on for yer sister, you okay with that?’ Fuck no. Just thinking about that conversation had him cringing in awkwardness and he shut the idea down instantly. 

But there you were still, invading his thoughts with your dreamy laugh and perky attitude. Why did you have to be such a goddamn tease?

He leaned forward, resting his hands on the wall trying to regain some composure. He gulped down deep breaths of moist air, willing his body to calm itself down, but it was fruitless. The image of your body, pushed up against the wall under his hands, wet and flushed, bubbled to the surface. He groaned. Daryl knew what he had to do. It wasn’t the first time he had gotten off thinking about you, and he damn well knew it wasn’t gonna be the last, but it still felt wrong each time, pumping his cock when you were just next door. His body craved the relief though, relief only indulgence could satisfy. 

He hissed as he dragged his fingers along his shaft, gripping at the base and beginning to pump slowly. He was painfully hard at this point, each squeeze raking shivers over his damp skin while he choked out quiet moans. With his opposite hand, he flicked the water to a warmer setting, pitifully hoping the heat and steam would resemble something close to your body against his. God, if only you were here.

He sped up, swiping his thumb over his sensitive tip with each pass, sending jolts throughout his body. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned deep and husky, not a care for the noise filling the empty house.

You were there, clear as day in his mind, moaning along with him as he pounded into you, cunt gripping him like a vice. Your breath was hot and pitchy against his ear as you begged him to fuck you harder, to go faster, to cum deep inside you. His cock twitched at that, he was already so close.

“Fuck, y/n, baby,” he whined, humping erratically into his long-forgotten hand. The muscles in his stomach quivered in bliss as he stroked himself, lost in his detailed imagination. You were cumming, trembling around him in languid spasms with his seed spilling out of you, and Daryl was over the edge, tossing his head back moaning your name as he unloaded, letting the steamy water wash it away. 

It took him a few minutes to recover, catching his breath slowly and trying to avoid the guilt that would soon be settling in. What would you think of him if you knew what he did behind muffled walls? How he thought of you in such dirty ways, when you’d only ever see him as a dear friend. He wondered what you might be doing now. Traipsing around your cozy home, oblivious to his rapid, lustful heart meters away.

The water was beginning to run frigid and he let out a defeated sigh. Absentmindedly, he reached past the curtain for a towel and stepped out, drying his hair off roughly and then wrapping the towel around his waist, turning to the bedroom for fresh clothes and much-needed sleep. His mind ached to be thoughtless, consumed by the abyss of unconsciousness.

He should have known the world stopped playing fair long ago.

In a single moment, his heart stopped and his stomach dropped to the fucking depths of hell.

There you stood, feet frozen to the floor with his crossbow in hand, like he willed you into existence. He stuttered, his mouth opening and closing like a blubbering fish. He was sure his eyes were the size of saucers, he could feel them ready to pop out of his skull and run away. There was no fucking way this was happening.

Several beats passed. The silence deafening between you both and for a moment, he honestly debated stepping back into the shower. Pretend you were a figment of his tortured imagination and just hope you’d go away. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen ghosts.

“You uh- you forgot your crossbow when you rushed out today,” you finally broke the silence, solidifying your genuine presence. He glanced down to the bow and then back at you, lost for words. Did you hear him? He moaned your goddamn name, quite a few minutes ago though… had you been standing there long? Were you angry?

His racing thoughts were interrupted when you stepped towards him, leaning the bow against the doorframe and moving closer. Instinctively, he took a step back, “Thanks,” he replied shakily, but you kept moving closer. He noticed your gaze then. It wasn’t on his face, but on his abdomen, at the hem of the damp towel hanging off of him. Your eyes had a gleam to them. Something dark and lustful.

No. Surely, he was reading you wrong. 

“Daryl,” you spoke, and he audibly gulped, nervousness and absolute embarrassment flooding his system, “is there something you need to tell me?” 

He didn’t answer you, instead deciding to burn a hole into the floor with his shame. He couldn’t look at you. You knew. You had heard him and were teasing him about it and here he was, a coward who couldn’t even admit to it. And you had every single right. He crossed that salty line years ago, with his first sinful thought about you. Feasted on it, deluding himself into thinking all was okay as long as his actions didn’t physically involve you.

He barely registered your advances when he finally raised his head. You were so close he could feel the heat of your breath against his burning skin, the luscious scent of vanilla and pine filling the air.

“Can I see?” you asked quietly.

He nearly choked on his own spit. Your hand was skimming along his stomach lightly, suggestively toying with the towel that covered him up. “Huh?” His mind was blank. 

“Can I see you?” you repeated, and all he could do was give you a curt little nod, not entirely sure what he was agreeing to just yet, but rendered acquiesced. Your hand pulled at the fabric softly, letting it drop to the floor revealing his manhood to your hungry eyes. Nothing was making any sense. Surely, you did not feel this way too. Surely.

There were those whispers again. He shouldn't have let you do that. He should be recoiling, shielding himself from your gaze but he was statuesque, like you had drank the life out of him with one simple look.

"Were you thinking about me touching you?" Like you had to even ask. The answer was written in plain sight, right there on his forehead and in his bashful eyes.

"M'sorry, I-" he had no clue how to even begin this kind of apology, remorse coursing through his veins rapidly. The dots weren’t connecting, not yet. "I know it's wrong, I shouldn't have-,”

And then he felt you, pressing your lips against his softly — timidly as gentle hands feathered across his waist, coaxing him into you. Your kiss was buttery, lips so smooth and sweet he wanted to drown in them. You tasted like fresh honey and vanilla ice cream, hints of minty toothpaste caught on your tongue. It was intoxicating to say the least, swarming his brain with a muted buzz and he whimpered, much to his surprise, melting into your touch quicker than he would like to admit.

“Y/n, y/n, nah we can’t,” he heard himself say as he came to his senses slowly, but he wasn’t pushing you away. Why wasn’t he pushing you away? You couldn’t, right?

“Please,” you whispered against him, low and sultry. Who was he to deny you? God Daryl, get a grip.

“Y/n, no,” he repeated, allowing his tone to take some authority even if that was the last thing he truly wanted. You stepped back from him then, a hurt expression painting your features and he felt his heart squeeze. “Why?”

His brain was scattered. This felt like a nightmare; another cruel joke sent his way to haunt him for the rest of his life. There just always had to be a price, didn't there?

"He doesn't mind, you know?" you whispered and his eyes were on yours instantly. You traced soft shapes across his stomach, sending those shivers down his spine and effectively turning him into putty.

"What’re ya talkin' about?" He needed to regain his composure, he could barely breathe with you this close, eyes raking his naked frame with desire.

"Rick... you and me. He doesn't care," you stated, "thinks it's cute actually... my crush on you."

Your crush on him?

"He trusts you, Daryl, with everything. You're pretty much the only person he would want me to be with." He hadn't thought of it that way, only ever assumed voicing his attraction to you would result in his head on a platter, or his dick… or both.

You began peppering his neck with small kisses, trailing them down his chest and over his puffy nipples. He hissed when you nipped at one, licking over it after, soothing the burn. "Ya sure?"

You nodded.

"Ya sure ya want me?" he asked dubiously. His question was answered when you grabbed his hand gently, guiding it inside your cotton underwear, letting his calloused fingers trace your soaked folds. He could have cum then and there, spreading your slick up and down between his fingers like it was liquid gold. Fuck me.

"This all fer me?" he panted, succumbed to a state of disbelief at your evident arousal. You were so wet around his fingers, pulsing and bucking slightly with each feathered stroke. "Were ya listenin' ta me?"

Hair fell over your face as you nodded sheepishly, gazing down to watch his fingers massaging you. You bit your swollen, cherry-red lip, “Couldn’t help it, you sounded so- so good.”

Now that... that got him going. Imagining your pretty cunt dripping in your panties, listening to his gasps while he fucked himself to the thought of you. Who knew the golden girl would be so naughty?

Daryl felt his confidence build, watching you fall apart for him from such simple touches. The last wire holding him back snapped and he needed more. He had waited for this moment for so fucking long.

You whine as he retracts his hand, only to be completely shut up when he places the thick digit on his tongue, sucking greedily and sloppily. It was better than he ever could have imagined, similar to the honey of your lips but so much more sweet. He went back for seconds. And thirds. Until he was dropping to his knees, deciding to lick the goddamn plate clean.

You enveloped him in the best way possible, lifting one of your thighs over his shoulder as he tugged on your tight jeans, pulling them down enough to fit his head. His tongue pressed flat against your clothed pussy, and he sucked, tasting a mixture of your sweetness and residual laundry detergent on his tongue. His moans burned the back of his throat, desperately trying to hide them but you weren’t having it, tugging on his chocolate locks for more. “Don’t do that. I wanna hear you, honey.” Good lord. He silently thanked each lucky star of his that the house was empty before emitting a guttural groan between your thighs. If this was all he got from you, a little taste of the sugar you were made of, he would die a very happy man.

He took your clit between his lips, rolling it with his tongue. Your underwear was so wet with your arousal and his spit that it was practically see-through, just calling for him to pull aside. “Please,” you gasped.

“Hm? Wha’s that?”

He’d heard you just fine. He wanted to hear you again, and again. He was greedy and you were so damn sinful, “Please, need them off, need you.”

So, he complied, as any sane man would, shimmying them down your hips as he sucked and nibbled each inch of newly exposed skin. You watched him intently with half-lidded eyes, rocking slowly to let plush skin engulf his senses like a cloud. He felt you playing with his messy hair, taking small strands between your fingertips and moving them behind his ears to see him better. The gesture struck something deep within him. You were so kind, so focused on this moment and him, he’d be damned if he let it continue on the hard damp floor of his bathroom. No fucking way.

He stood abruptly, catching you off guard. “Bed,” he muttered, capturing your lips again in a haste. He couldn’t get enough. He didn’t want a minute to pass where he wasn’t tasting some part of you. Any part of you. Sweet, sweet honey.

You led your bodies backward till your knees hit the mattress, wasting no time as you crawled up to his pillows, taking him with you.

This moment right here, this feeling… he wanted to bottle it up. Freeze time and just stare, immerse himself into every tiny detail. It felt almost criminal to continue. You were a vision, panting and squirming beneath him; so much electricity and anticipation bouncing between your yearning bodies. Could you really want this just as much as he did? Was he truly that oblivious, all these years? Whatever that answer may be, he wasn’t gonna fuck this up. Not with you.

Your hands on his face coaxed him back to reality, molding into your touch like clay. Eager lips chased his as he pulled your shirt off and as much as he wanted to freeze time and memorize each freckle of you, the more skin each other touched the more obscene the kiss became. An unartistic jumble of spit and hands and moans and thrusts.

In all the time spent pining silently for the other, you both could care less about grace.

No, he needed to hear you. Listen to every octave of moan you had in you, all at once. He needed to know each and every spot that had you whimpering and begging, this second. If time did decide to stop at any given moment he needed to have you, be you, feel everything you had to offer, and soak in it till his skin pruned.

His lips sucked and bruised their way down to your navel, and then past, kissing up your folds with lustful intent. The sounds you made above him had him seeing stars and he wanted more. His tongue slipped past your lips, finally diving into the hive of your sweetness, rolling his tongue languidly over your clit. Your hands were everywhere around him, fisting at the sheets, the pillows, and then his hair as you desperately tried to push him closer. He didn’t mind. He’d gladly suffocate between your thighs, a death he’d welcome compared to the ones he fought from outside every day.

He dove lower, smoothing his tongue over your entrance but not delving past quite yet.

“Daryl,” you gasped above him.

Looking up between your legs, he caught a glimpse of your face tossed back in pleasure and he groaned, having to ground his hips into the mattress below to relieve some pressure. “What d’ya need, sweetheart?”

He’d give you anything. The moon if you asked for it — anything to keep those pretty sounds coming from your lips. “You, you, please you.”

“How so?”

He knew he was teasing you. He’d drawn back from your glistening slit, pressing little pecks everywhere that he could reach. Your hips, your pelvis, the little crease between your thighs and your cunt. That spot drew a deep moan from you, so he focused on it, sucking and licking till it was bright red and your hips were rolling so violently he wasn’t sure how he kept his lips on you.

“In, please,” you choked out, tugging him by his shoulders to move back up. He wasn’t done yet.

“What? Ma fingers?” he toyed further, continuing his kisses everywhere but where you wanted him. “Hm?”

He brought his thumb up to your clit, pressing lightly at first, rubbing lazy, torturous circles. His lips were on the inside of your thigh, so close to your entrance but seemingly so far. He knew you wouldn’t take much more of this, you were practically sobbing above him blubbering nonsensical curses about how much you ached.

“This pretty cunt wanna be filled, that it?”

His thumb pressed firmer.

“Uh huh,” you nodded, begging him. Oh, that sound would surely be the death of him.

He finally brought his lips to your supposedly aching entrance, delving deep with his tongue. The noises he made as he lapped on your honey were flat-out pornographic, and you writhed below him, drinking everything he was giving to you. Honestly, he didn’t know how much more he could take. He wanted to draw this out for hours, make up for every bit of lost time but seeing you like this, so needy for him had his resolve shattering by the second.

With a final peck to your weeping folds, he crawled his way up back to your face. You latched on to him instantly, sensing his give and taking absolute advantage of your moment. His hips rolled into yours slowly as your tongues danced and he hardly had to guide himself with how wet you were, his tip finding your entrance easily and slipping past. You moaned rolling your hips again and he nearly bottomed out, a long deep groan ripping out of him. If he thought your lips were buttery, lord save him.

Perching himself on his forearms, he held still, watching for any signs of discomfort. He assumed you hadn’t been with anyone in a while and he certainly knew he wasn’t small, if he’d grace himself with any sort of compliment.

Sensing nothing but pleasure as your walls pulsed around him, sucking him in further, he gave, snapping his hips harshly into you. Your moans were lewd on his lips, traveling down his throat and feeding the fire that burned in the pit of his stomach.

“Fuck, y/n, baby,” he groaned again, spiraling from the fact he was actually inside you this time. Not in his hand, pretending you were fucking shower water.

No, you were beneath him, latching onto his muscles like your life depended on it. He drove deeper, hitting a spot that had you gasping for air. He hit it again, and again, needing to feel you explode around him. He watched as your face contorted in pleasure as he pounded into you. God, you looked so pretty like this. All cock-drunk and needy.

He brought his thumb back to that spot on your clit. He needed you to cum soon, he wasn’t gonna last much longer seeing you like this and there was no way in hell he was going to finish before you. Your hips stuttered beneath him, walls squeezing around him and he knew you were close.

“Come on, pretty girl, you got it,” he whispered in your ear, sucking the lobe gently between his teeth. That must’ve broken you, because then you were cursing, spasming for him which triggered his own orgasm. Your cunt milked him, his seed spilling down your thighs exactly how he had pictured earlier and it was a fucking sight. He honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he had imagined this whole thing.

He fucked out both through the waves of release, and a bit past, dropping his head into your neck to muffle the obscene groans coming from his lips. He didn’t want it to stop, but your overstimulated senses ached for reprieve.

“Dar?” you whispered once you'd both caught your breath, guiding his stubbled cheek from its hiding spot. When his eyes met yours, they were filled with so much adoration and happiness he had to hold himself back from whimpering. Never in a million years would he thought he’d get you, and here you were, looking at him like the sun shone out of his ass. The same way he looked at you for years, it was jarring to see it reciprocated. How had he missed it?

You leaned forward, tenderly capturing his lips with your own, soothing him as you always did. He knew there was so much you wanted to say, that he wanted to say, but you didn’t need to talk about it tonight. Tonight you would simply soak in each other, a gift you both thought you’d never get and one you would never let go.

He felt you giggle against his lips, and he pulled back with a lazy, fucked-out smile, "What?" he mumbled curiously.

"How's the headache now, big guy?" you teased playfully and he realized then, you'd known he was fibbing today. Saw right through his measly excuse to spend time with you.

He blushed to the tips of his ears, bowing his head to hide it, "Oh, shuddup," he mumbled, attacking your neck in kisses and nips.

Your cheeky ass was gonna pay for that tonight.

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl imagines #daryl dixon smut #daryl x reader #norman reedus #daryl dixon drabbles #twd drabbles #fem!reader #twd daryl #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl smut #norman reedus smut #y/n grimes #daryl x grimes reader #twd smut #daryl twd #twd fanfiction

[starlightkun]

➠ word count: 21.3k ➠ warnings: cursing, once again everything i know about hockey is from the internet and only for this fic i’m sorry, a couple different blood/injury mentions, needle/injection mention and descriptions, mentions of other medical testing/settings, just chronically ill girlie things 🤪 ➠ genre: fluff, sooo much fluff they’re sooo in love tbh, a bit of hurt/comfort sprinkled in, established relationship, college au, hockey captain sungchan, chronically ill reader (chronic migraines), christmas-y for a couple scenes in the middle, sequel to buzzer beater ➠ extra info: this is the sequel to buzzer beater, which you should definitely read before this one so you know what’s going on! the reader in this has chronic migraines, which i have. when the reader’s migraines, experiences as a chronically ill person, and thoughts about being chronically ill are described, that is me writing directly from my own life. i am not generalizing the lives of all people with chronic migraines/chronic illnesses, 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: i’m sooo down astronomically bad for hockey player sungchan and i hope you all are too bc take a look at that word count lol. anyway have fun!! ➠ series masterlist | spotify playlist

You felt more giggle than human at this point, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his collar to hide it from him and get a moment to recover your aching smile muscles. He hugged you even tighter to him, resting his chin on your head.

i. i will give you my palm to help you walk through the hurtful, want to give you that calm that you have so long searched for

[sicheng: come get your mans]

The random text from Sicheng made you shoot up on your couch. Hockey practice was happening right now, you were expecting Sungchan to come over to your place after—and also to not be getting texts from anybody on the team at the moment.

[you: hello? what?]

[sicheng: no seriously come pick him up he took a puck to the face]

You rushed through the automatic doors into the rink, looking around for any sign of paramedics or— The rest of the team was still practicing, and there was no obvious bright red blood on the ice, that was a good sign, at least. Nobody on the ice seemed to have even noticed your entrance. Okay, so maybe not a huge emergency then.

Taking a couple steps down the hallway that led into the locker room, you called out, “Sungchan? Sicheng?”

“Yeah! In here!” Sicheng replied. “You can come in!”

Throwing the door open, you immediately saw the goalie standing over Sungchan, who was sat on one of the benches, holding a rag up to his face. The white towel was blotted with crimson blood, and you gasped.

“Sungchan!” You darted towards them.

Sungchan lowered his hand, and you could finally see some of the damage. The blood was streaming down from a gash on the right side of his forehead, by his hairline.

No black eyes, though.

He gave you a wincing smile, and you thankfully saw all of his teeth still there. “Y/N, hey...”

You looked down at him incredulously, “How did you even—”

“I’m okay, baby,” he reassured you, reaching out with his free hand to squeeze your forearm.

“That’s not what I said. Aren’t you supposed to be wearing a helmet and visor out there? How did you get a puck to your bare forehead?”

“I’ll leave him to you,” Sicheng declared, backing away from you two. “I’ve got to get back to practice.”

“I wasn’t on the ice,” Sungchan explained. “I was talking to Sicheng by the gate. Rogue puck, he ducked in time, I didn’t.”

You knew whereabouts on the rink he was talking about. The school’s rink was also used for ice skating for some extra money, and had a separate entrance onto the ice for those patrons aside from the entrance from the players’ benches. Since he wasn’t anywhere on the ice, Sungchan must’ve felt comfortable taking his helmet off.

“And you didn’t have your helmet on.”

“Well, yeah,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Open gate, no helmet, rogue puck to the face,” you summarized, taking the towel from his hand to wipe up a drop of blood that had been inching down his temple while you two spoke. It at least wasn’t bleeding as profusely as before, the blood starting to coagulate.

“Really, isn’t it Sicheng’s fault? For ducking? He had a helmet on, he would’ve been fine if it hit him.”

“Mm, of course. Blame the guy with better reflexes than you.” You tossed the rag into the team laundry basket in the corner. “Alright, get changed, I’m taking you home.”

“Okay,” he agreed with a great sigh, bending over to untie his skates, then immediately sat back up. “Woah…”

As Sungchan blinked quickly to get reoriented, you dropped to one knee in front of him to start undoing his laces. “Lightheaded?”

“A bit…”

“I don’t know if I should be hoping for blood loss or concussion.”

After you’d gotten his skates off him, he was able to change out of his uniform and into casual clothes on his own. Slinging his practice bag over your shoulder, you handed his gear bag to him, knowing that you wouldn’t quite be able to manage that yourself. Without even waiting for him, you grabbed his arm to wrap it around your shoulders and snaked yours around his waist, the memory of him getting lightheaded replaying in your mind.

As the two of you left the cold rink into the equally cold December air, you kept an eye on Sungchan for any signs of him needing medical attention beyond your capabilities. Aside from the injury itself, he seemed fine, just with a slightly jutted-out bottom lip as he kept his eyes trained on the ground in front of his feet.

“What’s the pouty face for?” You asked.

“I’m not pouting.” Sungchan resisted.

“Yes you are. You look like a 186-centimeter baby. What’s wrong? Other than your acute case of puck face.”

The pout become even more prominent as he mumbled, “It’s like you’re not even worried about me...”

“Ah, of course I’m worried about my Sungchannie,” you promised, pulling him even closer with the arm you had around his waist. You moved it up to rub his back as you leaned your head against him affectionately. “I’m just so used to seeing guys get their teeth knocked out and their noses broken at your games that when Sicheng said you got a puck to the face, that’s what I was expecting to see. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it seem like I didn’t care. I was just relieved, is all.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded firmly. “Besides, I’m clearly worried enough to take you home and patch you up myself.”

“You are?” He asked hopefully.

“Oh yeah, I’ve got this first aid kit that’s about as big as you are. You’re going to be good as new, baby boy.”

His face finally cracked into a smile. “Why do you have a first aid kit that big?”

“It was the only one at the store that came with alcohol wipes. I need them for my monthly injection, to disinfect the injection site.”

“Right.” He squeezed your upper arm. “Of course, the girl that has to have an entire pharmacy in her kitchen.”

You nudged him with your shoulder teasingly, “And my Sungchannie, who has to take hockey pucks to the face.”

Once the two of you had arrived at your apartment, you immediately pointed to your couch. “Sit.”

Sungchan obeyed easily, plopping down without another word. He took off a couple layers now that you weren’t in the biting winter cold, setting them on the cushion beside him as you bustled over to your kitchen.

“My head hurts,” he announced, sounding downright pitiful.

“Really? Your head hurts?” You pouted at him, getting on your tiptoes to pull down your massive first aid kit from your cabinet.

“Uh-huh.”

“Aw, my poor Sungchannie,” you cooed, setting the huge first aid kit down on the coffee table and popping it open.

The apartment heating had kicked on, so you finally took off your heavy parka and overcoat as well, leaving you just in the base lounge clothes you’d been in before you’d hurried to get dressed with the urgent texts from Sicheng.

First, you tipped a couple of over-the-counter painkillers into his waiting hand, and he knocked them back with a sip from his water bottle.

Grabbing a couple alcohol swabs and boxes of bandages, you asked, “Okay, Hello Kitty, spaceships, or Pokémon?”

“Mm… What kind of Pokémon?”

“First gen. I think it’s mostly Gengars and Psyducks left in there.”

“A Gengar please,” he requested sweetly.

You fished a bandage out, pre-ripping the end of the packaging before setting it on the arm of the couch. Standing in between Sungchan’s legs as he was reclined back on your couch, you leaned over him, very gingerly brushing his hair back from his forehead so you could see the injury better. Thankfully, the bleeding had stopped between the rink and your place, all clotted blood and the start of scabs. Less thankfully for him, you were about to sanitize all of that. Gently turning his head so you could get better light, you tore open the first alcohol wipe and lightly touched it to the very edge of where you thought the wound started. Sungchan’s forehead wrinkled, but he didn’t make a sound. You continued at your task for another second before he finally spoke up.

“Y/N.”

“Sorry, I know it stings, but I’m almost done.” You promised. “I’d go faster but the lighting isn’t great in here, and some of it goes into your hair.”

“Don’t you think you’d be able to see better…” A pair of hands grabbed your hips, encouraging you closer, closer, down, down, until you were straddling Sungchan's lap, a knee on either side of him. “Like this?”

You were about to make a retort, except this tragically did get your own head out of the way enough to stop casting a shadow where you needed. So instead, you looked down at him with an eyebrow raised.

“How injured are you, really?” You questioned, pink-tinged alcohol wipe still in hand.

“So injured,” he fake-whined, settling his hands on your thighs.

“I’m sure.” But you made no move to leave, instead leaning in and getting back to work cleaning up the area.

Sungchan provided no more obvious distraction to you as you did so, seeming content to just smooth his thumbs over your clothed thighs and trace shapes there with his fingers. When you were finally able to see where the skin was split, you frowned, using your fingers to part his hair and inspect how far back it went.

“How long do I have, Doc?” He joked.

“You’ll live, but the bandages aren’t going to help the part that’s in your hair,” you forewarned. “That means be gentle when shampooing while its healing.”

“Sounds complicated. What if I mess it up? I think you should do it for me,” he suggested with a smirk, fingertips playing with the hem of your sweatshirt— well, really it was his sweatshirt, but he’d forfeited it to you some time ago.

“Is there something about getting injured that just turns you into a horndog?” You scoffed. For emphasis, you pinched the sliver of skin on his stomach that was exposed where his own t-shirt had ridden up above the hem of his pants and boxers.

He sat up then, forcing you to lean back to avoid smacking faces, but he just chased you forward until you were nearly nose-to-nose.

“No, there’s something about you being so worried and taking such good care of me that makes me want to show you how much I adore… you… back...” He punctuated the last three words with kisses that went up your neck to your jaw.

You looked up at the ceiling, as if pretending to consider this reason. But the happy smile that was working its way across your lips clearly gave away the fact that your mind was already made up. You snaked a hand between the two of you to push him back against the couch by the chest and hold him there.

“Alright, but at least let me put this Gengar bandage on you first, hm?”

ii. you are so beautifully, so brutally out of comprehension, and how lonely i was in the before and after

With a sigh, you rolled over in bed and checked the time. One hour until Sungchan was supposed to pick you up. It felt like somebody was slowly squeezing your head in some kind of medieval torture machine. There was no way this migraine was going away before your date. When it’d come on within thirty minutes of you waking up, you were hopeful that it’d pass and you could still make it, but clearly you had no such luck.

You sullenly drafted your text to him.

[you: hey, channie, im really sorry about this. i know we were supposed to go skating this afternoon but i’ve got a migraine, so i have to cancel]

Of all the dates that you had to flake out on. Sungchan had been really excited to take you to the rink during one of their open skate times, to share something he loved with you, and you were looking forward to it too. While you weren’t the best at ice skating, you were going to have the captain of the hockey team with you, so you hadn’t been too terribly concerned about your safety. The way his eyes had lit up when you said yes in the first place. God... you felt awful. In the back of your mind, you knew that you were just going to reschedule but still, it just made your head hurt worse to think about.

Ten minutes later, and he had texted back.

[channie: do you want some company?]

[you: ah, you really don’t have to. i’m sure you’ve got other things you need to do]

[channie: 1. i already cleared out my day for you 2. i want to be there with you and 3. i’m already outside]

You smiled at the harsh, painful light of your phone screen, reading the third bulletpoint over again as you typed your response.

[you: spare key under the fucked up looking gnome]

The door to your bedroom was slowly opened just a few moments later, and you wordlessly rolled over in bed to make room for Sungchan to slip under your blankets with you. You rolled back over practically on top of him and buried your face in his chest, happy to have something else to block out the light aside from your blackout curtains. He wrapped his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your hair. The corners of your mouth quirked up fondly.

“Hey...” You mumbled a greeting.

“Hey,” he murmured. “How bad is it?”

“Not as bad as the one from Halloween,” you reassured him, throwing an arm around his waist. “No lobotomizing or anything. Just... hurts.”

“That’s... good, I guess.”

“You put my key back under the gnome? Or did you bring it in?”

“Put it back. Also why do you have that fucked up looking gnome?”

“I saw him on clearance and he was just so horrible, I had to have him. So now I hide my spare key under him.”

You didn’t know if Sungchan had found your answer satisfactory, or just decided to leave the topic be for your migraine’s sake, but he said nothing more. His arms shifted a bit tighter around you, and you could sense his sour mood without even needing to see his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“What?”

“My Sungchannie…” You said in a hushed, teasing sing-song tone. “You make a terrible cuddle buddy when you’re this tense.” You poked his stomach for emphasis, which was solid as a brick wall. “What’s wrong?”

“Sorry, sorry.” He readjusted again, and you did feel his muscles relax a little under you. “You’ve got a migraine, you shouldn’t be asking me what’s wrong.”

“Well, we already know what’s wrong with me. So, what’s wrong with you?”

He let out a deep sigh. “It’s weird. When one of the guys gets hurt on the ice, I can see where they’re hurt and either slap a bandage on them myself or take them to someone who can. But when you’re hurting, my girl... I can’t do any of those things. I hate it.”

“Just you being here makes me feel better, Channie.” You squinted one eye open so you could reach a hand up to gently stroke his cheek. “I promise.”

“If you say so.”

Despite his melancholy words, he turned his head quickly to give a fleeting smooch to the tip of your thumb before you dropped it back down to lay the hand flat on his chest.

“And... ‘your girl?’” You asked slyly, wishing that there wasn’t a thick hoodie between his bare chest and your hand in that moment, as you were sure you would’ve been able to feel his heartbeat jump under your fingertips.

His eyes widened minutely as his head tilted in confusion. “Are-Are you not?”

“No, I am. Definitely.” You contentedly squished your cheek against his front.

“And I’m your guy. Right?”

“As if that could even be a question,” you giggled, the words punctuated by a yawn. “Yes.”

“Good,” he breathed out in relief, and you finally felt him truly relax underneath you. “Uhm, I’m keeping you up, sorry. You should go to sleep.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “My sleepy girl.”

“Mm, okay. Goodnight,” you mumbled, rolling over in his arms and letting your thoughts fully drift away.

“Love you...”

Sungchan continued staring down at you as your breathing evened out. The words seemed to have come out of your mouth as naturally as your breaths, and he fought back the urge to shake you awake again so he could say them back to you. Instead, he brushed your hair away from your face, planting a couple gentle kisses on your temple before scooting into his spot as big spoon for today and settling in for the duration of your sleep.

“I love you too,” he murmured into the crook of your neck, letting his own eyes close as he replayed the memory of you saying it first.

You woke up not even knowing your own name.

After taking a few seconds to properly come to and get reoriented from your migraine nap, you turned to your other side, immediately greeted by Jung Sungchan with such a tender look on his face that you had the breath knocked out of you.

Finally, you coughed out, “Hi...”

“Hey,” he smiled softly. “Sleep good?”

“Mhm... What time is it? How long did I sleep?”

“A few hours, it’s almost eight.”

“Cool, there goes my non-existent sleep schedule.”

He laughed quietly. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. I mean, blegh, but no migraine. Just... eugh.”

“The way you classify feeling good and bad fascinates me,” he commented.

You shuffled onto your back, staring up at your ceiling. “It’s all relative. One of my good days looks different from another chronically ill person’s good days. Same with my bad days. And no two abled people’s good and bad days look the same either. I mean, before I had migraines, I wasn’t out there being a hockey superstar like you. So yeah, right now I feel blegh and eugh, but in comparison to before my nap, that’s pretty good.”

“Huh.” Sungchan flopped onto his back too. “I mean, I guess I kind of knew that but... never really thought it through like that.”

“It’s a working theory,” you shrugged. “I’ve only been like this for... a little less than four years? And I’ll have these for, you know, the rest of my life. So, I’ll continue to refine it as time goes on.”

“Oh. Huh.”

“What?”

“You’re really going to have migraines for the rest of your life?”

“Yeah. Unless some miracle cure is discovered in my lifetime. It’s a lifelong condition.”

“That’s… damn.”

You let out a chuckle. “It took a while for it to sink in for me, too. When my neurologist mentioned it at my first appointment, it was like, whatever, but now four years later… yeah, it’s really starting to sink in that this is my life.”

“Woah…”

“Anyway, I’m sorry again about ice skating. I know you were really excited for it.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll go another day,” he promised. “Thank you for letting me be here, with you.”

You pushed yourself up to sit cross-legged, and put your hand over his that he’d been resting on his chest. “Thank you for coming, Sungchan.”

His face scrunched up. “What’s with calling me that? Am I in trouble?”

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys…”

“One of what guys?”

“As soon as they get a nickname or a term of endearment they won’t answer to their government name anymore.”

“It’s not that, it’s just… it feels like I’m in trouble. Like, am I not your Sungchannie anymore? Am I not baby or baby boy to you anymore? I’m no longer Channie?”

“You’re not in trouble,” you told him, slotting your fingers with his. “But… as a literary student, I understand the importance of diction and the symbolism of names.”

“Yeah, exactly.” He nodded firmly.

You snickered, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Thank you for being here with me, my Sungchannie.”

He caught the back of your head with his other hand before you could sit up all the way, guiding your lips down to his. It was a sweet, lingering kiss, which neither of you moved to deepen nor rush. When his hand fell from your hair, you straightened back up, smiling down at him fondly.

“Well, are you ready for dinner?” You asked. “I was thinking frozen pizza and very quiet movies. Unless you can’t stay the night.”

“No, I can stay.” He nodded, propping himself up on his elbows. “That sounds great. Whatever you want.”

“Perfect.”

You climbed out of bed, taking a second to get to your feet before heading for your bedroom door. Sungchan was still under the covers, though, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. You stopped at the threshold of the door, turning around to look at him.

“Channie?”

“Hm?”

“By the way…” You paused, letting silence descend for a couple seconds as he patiently waited for you to finish. “I love you.”

You immediately darted away towards your kitchen, laughing as you heard him scrambling to get out of bed and chase after you.

“Hey, come back!” He cried out, and you swore you heard the thud of an elbow or a knee bumping into a piece of furniture or a doorframe. “I need to say it back to you! Baby!”

You couldn’t run very far, sliding across your kitchen tile on your socks before skidding to a stop in front of your fridge. Sungchan came barreling around the corner right after you, wild-eyed, clutching his elbow and out of breath.

“No fair…” he whined. “You got a head start and I hit my funny bone on your door.”

“Your legs are like twice as long as mine!” You pointed out. “I think that’s just equity.”

“And my funny bone?”

“I’m sorry about your funny bone, baby boy. Want me to kiss it better?”

“In a second.”

“Alright,” you giggled, waiting patiently for him to finish his point.

“You know what’s not equitable?” He asked with his hands on his hips, slowly advancing towards you.

“Aside from you busting your funny bone on my door?”

He’d gotten you in arm’s reach, seizing you by the waist to pull you into his chest again. “You saying it to me twice now without giving me an opportunity to say it back.”

You laughed and wriggled around in his grasp as he held steadfast to you.

“So not fair!” Sungchan complained teasingly, showering your forehead, nose, and cheeks in kisses.

You felt more giggle than human at this point, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his collar to hide it from him and get a moment to recover your aching smile muscles. He hugged you even tighter to him, resting his chin on your head.

“Maybe it’s a good thing you’re not an athlete, you don’t play fair,” he chastised you. “Being so unbelievably cute while I’m trying to prove a point here.”

With another loud smooch to the top of your head, Sungchan let you go, removing you from him and holding you at arm’s length by the shoulders. You raised your eyebrows as you eyed the several kitchen tiles of space between the two of you.

“Very romantic, Channie.”

“Ahh, well I can’t think when you’re so close to me!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. However you need to.”

“No, you’re right, come back here.” He pulled you flush to his front again, cupping your cheeks to tilt your face up to look at him.

You looped your arms around his waist, offering him a sweet smile. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he echoed, stroking his thumbs over your cheekbones. Sungchan looked over your features fondly, his lips twitching as he was clearly trying and failing to suppress a giddy grin. “I love you. I love you. And, I love you.”

You chuckled at him having to say it the third time, as your whole body buzzed with joy. Yeah, your insides were never going to un-mush at this rate. They’d been long gone since your first date.

“I love you too, my Sungchannie.” You gave him a gentle kiss, feeling him smile against your lips.

iii. i hear the secret whisperings of the world in the curves of all your bursts of laughter

Sitting in a stadium seat at the ice rink one afternoon, you watched the team’s practice as you waited for your boyfriend. Well, half-watching the practice. Now that the semester was over, you wanted to catch up on your personal reading list with the free time.

A sudden bang on the barrier in front of you made you startle and look up from your book. It surprisingly wasn’t Sungchan, but two other players—23 and 24.

You slowly waved at Jeno and Yangyang before turning your eyes back down to your reading. That just started up more fervent banging on the plastic and indistinct shouting from them.

“Oh my God! What?” You yelled back, tucking your bookmark into the pages.

Their words were indistinguishable though, because of the barrier, distance, and the fact that they were talking over each other.

“Hold on!” You huffed. Standing up and picking your way down through the rows until you were directly in front of them, you asked, “Okay, what? One at a time.”

“Are you coming to movie night tonight—” Jeno started.

“—at the Puck Pad?” Yangyang finished.

Your brow furrowed as you stared at their shining eyes as if they had just said a normal thing to you. “I’m sorry, the what?”

“Movie night?” Jeno repeated.

“You seriously think that’s what I’m confused about? I know what a fucking movie night is, Jeno,” you rolled your eyes. “What the hell is the ‘Puck Pad?’”

The two of them exchanged a look before Yangyang spoke up, “Where your boyfriend lives? The house that me, Sungchan, Ten, and Sicheng all rent.”

“The team is having a movie night there tonight!” Jeno reiterated. “We were just wondering if you were coming too.”

You blinked at them. “I’ve never heard Sungchan, Sicheng, nor Ten call the house that. Are you sure it’s not just you, Yangyang?”

Yangyang ignored your question with one of his own, “Are you coming?”

“Yeah, Sungchan mentioned some movies at his place tonight. I’ll be there.”

“Awesome!” They said in unison.

“So… the Puck Pad?” You asked abruptly as Sungchan came out of the locker room, your arms crossed and head tilted.

His elated smile dropped off his face as a bewildered look of confusion took over, and his arms fell down to his sides from where he’d been holding them out for a hug. “What…? Who told you about that?”

“So you do call your house that?”

“Look, we joked about that like once or twice when we moved in last year. It’s not like there’s a sign up or anything.”

“And you didn’t want to tell me about this because…?”

“It’s lame and makes us sound like a bunch of losers.”

“But you are.”

“Unh!” He held a fist over his chest as if he were grabbing some invisible weapon that he’d just been stabbed with. Clutching onto your shoulder with his other hand, he slowly started leaning more and more of his weight onto you as he made more fake noises of pain. “Oof! Oh God… Oh, that hurt, Y/N… My own girl… Ugh… Agh…”

Giggling, you had to change your stance to keep the both of you up as he was fully slumped against you. You let out a grunt of exertion as you readjusted to push on his chest and prop him back up into a somewhat standing position.

“Channie, get up!” You complained as he just flopped back over on you, bringing another bout of laughter from you as you struggled to keep the both of you up. “Channie! Seriously, you’re such a baby! Just a big loser baby!”

“Yeah, but I’m your big loser baby, right?” He teased, supporting just enough of his weight to be able to look you in the face as he pouted at you pointedly.

You pinched his bottom lip just a bit meanly. “Yeah, and you’d better not forget it. Now can we go? You do know that the team has been staring like the whole time waiting for us, right?”

The guys were all crowded up by the automatic doors in a huddle, in various stages of pretending not to watch and very obviously looking and snickering among themselves. Donghyuck and Yangyang were in the latter, the two underclassmen feeling rather brave tonight as Yangyang yelled out first.

“Come on, loser baby! We’re waiting!”

“Yang, it was big loser baby, actually,” Donghyuck corrected him facetiously.

“Right, of course,” Yangyang nodded seriously. “Come on, you big, stinking, whining loser baby!”

Sungchan straightened up, all humor drained from his features as he snapped his fingers and pointed at them. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Are you ready to go, Channie?” Jeno joined in.

“Don’t fucking call me that!” The captain shot back, grabbing your hand as he started leading the way over.

“Seriously, guys,” you spoke up once you had joined the pack of hockey players heading out of the rink. “Don’t call him Channie, please.”

Sungchan’s house—The Puck Pad—was a close enough walk that on nights like this, where the team would hold movie nights or other team events after hockey practice, the players would all leave their cars at the house beforehand and walk over. So you all had a roughly twenty-minute walk back there now, a gaggle of hockey players, their practice bags, a couple gear bags, and you.

“Why not?” Donghyuck fake-whined.

“Well for one, he asked you not to. That should be enough,” you retorted. “And two, that’s my nickname for him. Come up with your own instead of stealing mine.”

“Since you asked so nicely, okay.”

“Thanks, Hyuck.”

A phone alarm suddenly went off just a moment later, and you calmly turned it off from your watch before rummaging through the tote bag on your shoulder.

“Evening?” Sungchan asked knowingly, watching as you tipped out one pill after another into your palm, then grabbed your water bottle.

“Mhm.” You confirmed before knocking them back in several rounds. The two of you were thankfully towards the back of the group, so they didn’t notice when you had to stop and start every time you had difficulty swallowing your sips of water.

When you closed up your tote bag, took his hand in yours, and continued down the sidewalk at a brisk pace intent on catching up with the others, a frown cut across Sungchan’s face. “Aren’t you supposed to take those with food?”

“Forgot to restock the go bag with snacks yesterday. I’ll live taking one dose without it,” you shrugged. “Besides, we’re going to be at your place soon anyway, I’ll eat there.”

Sungchan reached into his practice bag, fishing out a slightly misshapen protein bar, “Here. Sorry, it got a little crushed.”

“Oh, you don’t—”

He tore open the wrapper with his teeth, then pushed it into your hand that wasn’t holding his. “Y/N, eat it.”

“Alright. Thank you.”

At The Puck Pad—which you were learning, it turns out, the entire team calls the house when nobody else is around—you ended up being pretty glad for the protein bar Sungchan had given you on your way over. You only ate half of it before you got to the house, but the guys were so disorganized that it wasn’t until almost two hours after you’d arrived that everybody was finally settled in the living room with popcorn, candy, pizza, beer (soda and water for you), and a movie playing on the TV.

You and Sungchan had a plush, reclining armchair to yourselves, tucked cozily under a blanket. Sungchan had an arm around your waist holding you close to him as the other moved between his plate that was balanced on the armrest with a stack of pizza slices, and the small end table where your drinks sat. You were happily curled up into his side, head resting in the crook between his shoulder and his chest, and your legs in his lap as you propped your own plate up on your knees to eat from.

The guys had picked a horror movie first—one without jumpscares, as both you and Mark hated them. Blood, gore, body horror, or psychological thriller didn’t faze you, but under no circumstances could you handle jumpscares. Mark, on the other hand, didn’t care for horror movies in general and would only tolerate them if everybody else wanted to watch it. His hard line was jumpscares, though, which you two could agree on. So everybody had checked over multiple websites to be sure that this specific movie definitely didn’t have any jumpscares. Just lots of blood, as you were now finding out.

“Gross, dude…” Mark muttered under his breath from the couch. When you looked over at him, you could see his arms crossed over his chest as he stared at the screen with a curled lip of disgust.

“Ugh, he had all those frogs inside him?” Yangyang pretended to gag, not looking away from the screen for a second.

“Good thing Hendery already went home for the holidays, huh?” Ten laughed, tossing a piece of popcorn into his mouth from where his head was pillowed in Sicheng’s lap.

Chenle, who had also been invited, snorted with amusement. “Hendery would be climbing the fuckin’ walls right now.”

“I’m with Mark, this is fucking nasty.” You shook your head, turning to bury your face in Sungchan’s chest. “Let me know when there’s no more frogs doing gross stuff to people’s internal organs.”

“You can pick next, baby. Promise.” Sungchan wrapped two arms around you. He leaned in even closer to you to whisper, “Please pick something not scary.”

Once the horror movie was over, you proudly picked a Christmas rom-com, making sure to get one that had the perfect balance of a low critics’ score and high audience score on Rotten Tomatoes, was at least as old as you, had a low budget, and starred two famous actors that hadn’t gotten their big break as of filming.

When Jeno tried to grumble, you merely stuck your tongue out at him. “‘Tis the fucking season, Jeno!”

“Oh, fuck yeah! Christmas movie!” Yangyang cheered through a mouthful of pizza, walking back into the living room with a newly filled plate of slices. “Jeno, did we already have this one on our list?”

“List?” You asked with facetious innocence.

“Jeno and I marathon shitty Hallmark Christmas movies every year when we go to his parents’ place on break,” the junior explained, plopping down into his spot next to his friend. “He keeps the list in the notes on his phone, so I wanted to make sure he checked it off if we had it on there.”

While your immediate instinct had been to tease Jeno like the other guys were doing, something Yangyang said caught your attention instead.

“Wait, Yangyang, you go to Jeno’s parents’ place on break? You don’t go home?”

“My parents don’t live here. I’m originally from here, but we moved abroad when I was a kid. They still live there. The holiday break we get for hockey is too short to make it all the way out there.” He shrugged, taking another huge bite of pizza. “Jeno’s family is super cool. His mom about lost it when she heard that I’d be staying at school for the holidays my freshman year, insisted Jeno bring me home. So I go every year now.”

“And you two binge Hallmark movies together,” Chenle cooed, pinching their cheeks in unison. “The bestest of fwiends.”

Jeno shook his head and rolled his eyes, but there was no denying the bright grin on his face when Yangyang talked about staying with his family, or when he snuck his phone out to open the notes app and covertly check something off on a list that you couldn’t quite read from the other side of the room.

The movie ended up being actually a really good laugh. Both intentionally and unintentionally. Some of the jokes still held up after all these years, which surprised you, and also, the movie was just funny bad sometimes, which was even better. You found your cheeks hurting from how much you were laughing by the end of it, and surrounded by similar smiles on your friends’ faces. Which made it all the more enjoyable. The ending was the perfect amount of cheesy, sweet, funny, and satisfying, and felt like the perfect way to finish off your own night.

As the credits started rolling, still with a smile lingering on your lips, you turned to Sungchan, only to find him already gazing fondly at you.

“Oh. Hi…” You squeaked softly, completely caught off guard.

“Hi, baby,” he murmured back. “Good pick, by the way.”

“Not too scary, I hope.”

“Well, I had my girl there to protect me from that terrifying small-town baker and the down on his luck yet equally terrifying single dad, you know.”

The rest of the guys were having a debate about the next movie to watch—Pride and Prejudice (2005), Donghyuck’s idea vs. The Amazing Spider-Man (yes, Andrew Garfield), Mark’s idea. A debate that was expeditiously devolving into a very loud argument, so you weren’t particularly worried about them hearing the quiet, playful conversation that you and your boyfriend were having in the couple of inches of space between your heads.

“Always happy to protect my guy from the horrors of cheesy rom-coms,” you quipped back. “Anyway, I think I’m about done. Unless you want to watch whatever they end up picking?”

Sungchan shook his head minutely. “Apparently Hyuck’s been watching that movie like every day since this girl in his Brit Lit class rejected him like two weeks ago—”

“You need a better fucking coping mechanism than Keira Knightly, dude!” Mark’s exasperated voice rang through the living room.

“Would you rather I take up heroin, then?” Donghyuck screeched back.

“No! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” The frat president groaned. “I meant like Tinder or something!”

“Oh, really great advice from my Big here! I should go get myself an STD or 7 because he doesn’t want to watch one movie with me!”

“It’s not one movie, this is the fifteenth time this month, Hyuck! And you know we have condoms in the house, man! Use them!”

“And that’s our cue,” Sungchan declared only to you, nudging you towards the front of the armchair.

You scooted off his lap, getting to your feet and stretching as your boyfriend spoke over the still-bickering Nu Chi brothers. “Alright guys, we’re done for the night. See you.”

A couple of the spectators gave you two ‘goodnight’s, but everyone else was still locked into Mark and Donghyuck squabbling match as the Little was now fake-sobbing into Sicheng’s arms about how his Big couldn’t care less about him and his safety and maybe he should go get every single sexually transmitted disease if it’ll make Mark’s life easier. Mark turned towards the closest wall and started banging his forehead against it as you and Sungchan headed up the stairs.

The Puck Pad was three floors and an attic. All of the shared family spaces were on the first floor: the kitchen, living room, dining room, laundry room, and a half bathroom; the second floor had two bedrooms and one bathroom, currently inhabited by Ten and Sicheng; and the third floor had two* more bedrooms and one and a half more bathrooms, occupied by Yangyang and Sungchan. Being the captain, when divvying up the rooms, the other three just kind of shrugged and gave Sungchan what was technically the master bedroom. It was at the end of the hallway, and while it wasn’t that much bigger than the rest of the bedrooms, it was the only one with an en suite bathroom. You would hesitantly call this a four bedroom house, as you were pretty sure that Yangyang’s room wasn’t actually supposed to be a bedroom. At least not when the house was built. The layout of the bathrooms had been your first clue, with there being just a half bath for him to use—he had to either go down one floor to use Ten and Sicheng’s shower or into Sungchan’s bedroom to use his shower—and the fact that the doors (yes, doors, plural, he had two doors to his very normal-sized bedroom, one of which was the actual entrance and exit from the hallway and the other, which was in an interior wall, could not be opened, despite having a handle and hinges) looked like they had been added decades after the frames had been built. You were stumped as to what the room could’ve originally been, but you were confident that it wasn’t a bedroom, at least. It was something that puzzled and mystified you every time you came over.

Donghyuck and Mark were either done with their spat, or the sounds of it couldn’t carry at the way up here. Either way, you were going to be well onto your way to dreamland soon as you settled down for the night with Sungchan, having done your nighttime routine, changed into your pajamas, and gleefully climbed under the covers.

“Are the other guys staying the night?” You asked Sungchan as he readjusted his pillow next to you to get comfy.

“Don’t know,” he said. “Usually they will if they drink a bit too much, or if they just don’t feel like going all the way home then having to come back this way for Saturday morning practice.”

You made a noncommittal noise, still ruminating over your half-idea in your own mind as you laid there with your eyes shut. The mattress and the sheets shifted beside you as Sungchan curled up behind you, resting a hand on your waist.

“Why are you asking?” He questioned curiously.

“Hyuck…” You sighed, placing your hand over his and slotting your fingers together. “Worried about him, is all.”

“It was some girl in his class that he’d talked to like once in the whole semester. He’ll be okay. Donghyuck’s just got to get the dramatics out of his system first.”

“Even so… Even if he’s just a bit bummed or whatever… Isn’t that what friends are for? To make you feel better when you’re bummed out?” You mused.

“Yeah, I guess so. That’s what Mark’s been trying to do, and he just ended up watching Pride and Prejudice fourteen times.”

You let out a soft burst of air, a quiet chuckle, at that. “Taking one—or, fifteen—for the team.”

Sungchan’s chest shook with a couple silent laughs.

“But really— Can you bring him back here after morning practice tomorrow? I want to take him out. Get his mind off it.”

“Yeah, sure. We can do something.”

“Ah, Channie, I was kind of thinking just me and Hyuck.”

“What? Why?”

“Because you guys pick on him.”

“He picks on us!”

“Baby?”

“Alright, alright,” he relented. “I’ll bring Donghyuck back after practice tomorrow for your little friend date.”

You turned your head to be able to press a fleeting peck to the tip of his nose. “Thank you, baby.”

“But I’m making you breakfast. You two will have to figure out something else.”

In the morning, you were faintly aware of an alarm going off early before it was quickly shut off and you rolled over in bed, burying your face in your pillow. Beyond your eyelids, it was still absolute darkness. You could feel the shifting of the mattress beside you and the press of a gentle kiss to your temple as you quickly sank under the calm waters of sleep once more.

You were half-awoken again some time later, a faint light streaming into your consciousness as the covers shifted once again, and a presence enveloped you from behind that hadn’t been there before. Letting out a peaceful sigh, you listened to the sounds of yours and Sungchan’s breathing as they eventually synced up, and you drifted back off without even realizing it.

Fluttering your eyes open, you groaned softly against the bright morning sunlight. After a couple seconds of squinting and blinking, your eyes had adjusted for the most part, and you rolled onto your other side. Sungchan smiled at you fondly as you rubbed at one of your eyes.

“You awake?” He asked quietly.

“Yep, ‘m up,” you offered a bleary thumbs up. “Just don’t make me solve any differential equations or whatever the fuck. Actually, don’t make me do that when I’m at full capacity either.”

He laughed softly, cradling the back of your head to pull you forward and press a kiss to your forehead. “Good morning, baby.”

“Mornin’ Channie,” you said back, punctuated by a yawn. “How was practice?”

“It was good. Donghyuck’s playing video games in the living room with Yangyang, by the way.”

“Good, good.”

“I think that was our smoothest Saturday morning yet. Were you able to go back to sleep okay?”

“Oh, yeah. I don’t even remember waking up at all, really.”

“Success,” he grinned.

You momentarily closed your eyes again, enjoying the peaceful moment as you let your body slowly work towards fully waking up. Sungchan gently stroked the backs of his fingers up and down your arm, and you relaxed even further under his touch.

“I like waking up next to you,” he admitted softly. You squinted one eye back open to look at him as he continued. “Doing it twice in one morning… I think that’s the most I’ve ever loved somebody.”

Shooting up just to push him back against the mattress, you held him there by the shoulders, your grip so tight it probably would’ve hurt if he wasn’t already used to much worse on the ice. He looked up at you with wide eyes.

“Are you trying to kill me, Jung Sungchan?” You accused. “Saying stuff like that to me first thing in the morning, I could melt into a puddle and never re-form! My heart could explode!”

“You don’t think my heart feels like it’s going to explode when I wake up and see you next to me first thing in the morning?” He huffed back. “That just sounds like equity, baby.”

“You don’t know the meaning of that word.”

“Maybe so…”

With a final shake of your head, you let go of him and fell onto your back next to him. He propped himself up on an elbow on his side so he could see you, the beginnings of a pout on his face.

“And what’s that pout for?” You teased, already with a sneaking suspicion.

“Oh, nothing…” He picked up one of your hands, dropping a line of kisses to the back of it and up your wrist and lower arm.

“Okay,” you played along with a smile on your face. “Because I was just thinking that I’ve been awake for a whole five minutes with no good morning kiss. But if it’s nothing, then—”

You couldn’t even finish your sarcastic dramatics before Sungchan had captured your lips with his in a sweet but intense kiss that pressed your head back into the pillow just a little bit. Curling your fingers in the hair at the back of his head and grabbing a fistful of his t-shirt with your other hand, you pulled him even closer, wanting to just be able to melt into each other completely like it felt like your mouths were doing.

Another alarm suddenly went off in the bedroom, different from the one that had gone off in the wee hours of the morning, and you broke the kiss for just a second to snooze it on your smart watch.

“Oh! Your meds.” Sungchan immediately looked over towards his dresser where your go bag was sitting safely.

“I snoozed it; I’ll take them in a few minutes,” you reassured him, grabbing his face to pull his lips back to yours.

He indulged you for a few seconds until you reached a natural break for air, where he instead pecked your cheek before sitting back on his feet. “I’ll grab them for you, I don’t mind.”

With that, he clambered off the bed and over towards the dresser.

It was impossible to get mad at him though as he so eagerly went to help. You were instead filled with such an overwhelming fondness and joy, unable to do much but smile tenderly at him. “Oh, Channie… thank you.”

“Morning, morning, morning,” he muttered to himself as he rooted through your tote bag to pull out the various pill bottles. “That’s… half of this one, one of these, and… one of this? Oh, and you just added this one, too. And your blood pressure cuff.”

“A-plus, Nurse Jung.” You beamed up at him as you sat up in bed, getting in the correct position to take your vitals with the cuff.

He came over to you, dropping your meds in your waiting palm. You looked over the colorful pills momentarily, pleased to see that he’d gotten it exactly correct. After taking them with your water that was on his nightstand, you held out your hand for him to give you your cuff. But instead, he undid the Velcro and went to loop it around your wrist himself, brows furrowing as he concentrated on the task at hand.

“How’s that?” He asked once he had it secured.

“It’s a little too close to my hand, actually, but good first try.” You undid the band, scooting it to the proper position. “It should be a little further above my wrist bone.”

“Okay. Got it.”

The two of you were silent as you waited for your cuff to take your blood pressure and heartrate, the only sounds that of your breathing and the usual ones of the device in operation. After the final beep and deflation, you brought your wrist down from your chest to look at the screen.

“Is that good?” Sungchan asked, focused on the results as well.

“Well these are my pre-dose numbers. And they’re actually a little lower than normal,” you explained, typing them into your health record on your phone with your free hand. “Only by 10 points, but that means that depending on the post-dose I’ll probably just have to keep a closer eye on my numbers today.”

“So now we set a timer for 30 minutes.”

“Yep,” you did so with just a couple more taps on your phone. “And in the meantime, you make me breakfast like you promised.”

“On it.” He smooched your temple, his hands tentatively reaching towards your wrist. “Can I take your blood pressure cuff off you now?”

“Of course.”

He gently peeled off the strap with a rip of the Velcro, standing back up to put it away in its case. Holding the cuff in its hard carrying case in one hand, he offered his other out to you, and you gladly took it, getting it to your feet.

“Hold on a sec…” You muttered, squeezing your eyes shut as you got light-headed for a moment, bright lights flashing in your vision.

“I got you, baby,” Sungchan murmured, pressing his arm to yours and grabbing your other shoulder with his hand—he must have set your cuff down or put it in his pocket.

Once you felt stable on your own two feet again, which took just a few seconds, you blinked a couple times, then smiled up at him. “Okay, ready.”

Downstairs, you could hear video game sounds as you emerged into the kitchen, accompanied by the muffled shouting of three voices. Yangyang, Donghyuck, and that last one had to be Ten, it wasn’t nearly deep enough to be Sicheng. You sat up in the corner of their kitchen counter to watch Sungchan as he cooked, occasionally in the way, but he never asked you to move, and you never offered. It was a simple breakfast, but nothing could beat the proud, happy grin on his face as he held your plate out to you.

“It looks great,” you told him, patting his cheek. “Thank you, Channie.”

“Anything for my girl,” he replied, absolutely beaming as he leaned in to give you a soft kiss. You could feel the curl of his smile against your lips.

The two of you had just taken your first bites sat at the kitchen table when Yangyang and Donghyuck wandered in.

“Something smells good,” Yangyang announced, his eyes immediately landing on your food.

You protectively pulled your plate closer to yourself.

“There’s plenty left in the fridge to make your own,” Sungchan replied, pointing towards the kitchen.

Donghyuck plopped down in the seat directly next to the one that you and your boyfriend were jointly occupying—you were on Sungchan’s lap. The sophomore stared longingly at your breakfast.

“Didn’t you guys already eat?” You asked. “You had morning practice.”

“That was forever ago.”

“You’re not stealing my girlfriend’s food, you ungrateful little shits,” the captain glared at the both of them. “Go make your own if you’re so hungry.”

“First Mark wants me to get chlamydia, now you want me to starve,” Donghyuck bemoaned. “Will I ever have a good role model in my life?”

Sungchan fixed you with a pointed look, but you could only giggle at your friend’s dramatics.

“Daddy issues much, Hyuck?” You ruffled his hair, earning loud cackles from Yangyang, and distant laughter from Ten.

Donghyuck stared at you with a dropped jaw as you heard a couple dumbfounded sputters from Sungchan behind you. The younger player recovered quickly, though.

“What gave it away? My unhealthy attachment to older male friends that I see as reliable, or my ‘I Heart DILFs’ shirt?” He retorted sarcastically.

“You do wear that shirt a lot,” you jested back easily. He owned no such shirt to your knowledge.

“And here I thought I was being subtle.” He clicked his tongue in feigned disappointment.

“As a trainwreck,” you nodded. “You and Yang either go get your own food or shut the fuck up, okay?”

Donghyuck stood up from his chair, giving you an overzealous salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

Yangyang went to follow his friend with a shake of his head. “Mommy issues much, bro?”

You couldn’t contain your laughs, tucking your face back into the crook of Sungchan’s neck to muffle them just a little bit. He wrapped an arm around your waist, holding you even closer to him. You kept laughing, even as he gently brushed his lips over the crinkles at the corner of your eye.

iv. because life is beautiful but life is work, so full of joy, so full of hurt

“So tell me about her,” you prompted Donghyuck as soon as the front door shut behind you two.

“What?”

“The girl that you like. Tell me about her.”

“Sungchan said you wanted to take me out to get my mind off it.” He regarded you suspiciously. “And everyone else is telling me I should just move on, stop moping and thinking about her all the time. Don’t know how talking about her more is really going to help that.”

“I heard that she was in one of your classes this semester and you two talked once. But if you’re this broken up about her… sounds like there’s more going on,” you shrugged. “If you want to tell me, I’m all ears. I know you feel like you have to ham it up for the guys all the time, make them laugh and stuff. But you don’t have to do that for me, okay? You don’t owe me entertainment in exchange for tolerating your presence or something. I’m hanging out with you right now because I want to.”

“I talked to her twice, actually. Not counting when she rejected me,” he began abruptly. “We were in the same Brit Lit class this semester, she sat in the seat in front of me. On the first day of class, she turned around to hand me the syllabus and accidentally bumped my water bottle. She smiled, apologized, and handed me the stack of papers and that was that. It’s so not me but I just, I couldn’t talk to her. It’s not just that she’s pretty—I mean she is, like the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen—but she’s so smart too. Whenever she’d answer one of the professor’s questions, she’d say something about the story that I would’ve never thought of in a million years. And like, the professor would be impressed too! But every single time I tried to hype myself up to say something, literally anything to her, I’d end up panicking and not doing it.”

“What was the other time? You said you talked to her twice, outside of when you asked her out. What was the other time, after the syllabus?”

He grimaced. “Ugh, right. I was walking across campus from the library to the parking garage one day. I was supposed to be meeting up with Mark at his car to hitch a ride back to the house. I had one of my sticks with me because I was taking it home to retape it, just sort of slung over my shoulders while I waited at the crosswalk. And it was dark, and I heard something behind me, whipped around to look, and ended up knocking her right in the eye with the butt of the stick.”

“Oh no,” you hissed sympathetically.

“I kept apologizing, but since I didn’t have my gear bag on me, just my bookbag and weapon, I didn’t have anything to patch her up with. She had some tissues in her bag thankfully… but I felt so horrible.”

“Aw, Hyuck, it was an accident. I’m sure she knows that.”

“And I felt even more horrible when I saw her in class a couple days later with that same eye black and blue.”

“Ouch…”

“And then on the last day of class, I caught up with her in the hall after turning in our finals, and I finally did it. I finally asked her out. And she said no.”

You let out a forlorn sigh, looping your arm with your friend’s. “I’m sorry, Hyuck. If it makes you feel any better, I think she’s missing out on a really great, sweet guy.”

“That doesn’t really help, but thanks, I guess.”

“I think it’s good to go ahead and be sad for a little bit, if that’s what you’re feeling.”

He let out a cynical chuckle. “I think my sadness is a bit of an inconvenience for the guys.”

“That’s not true,” you reassured him. “They’re just worried about you. You’re usually this big, unstoppable ball of sunshine. It’s like when one of you gets hurt on the ice, right? One of your teammates will slap a bandage where it hurts and you’ll keep playing. They don’t get why the bandages aren’t enough this time.”

“I don’t know if ‘ball of sunshine’ is a phrase that any of them of would use to describe me.” The corner of his lips twitched. “But thank you, Y/N. I didn’t really know what to expect when Sungchan told me that you wanted to hang out with me 1-on-1 today, considering you don’t really know me like you know some of the other guys. Like, I don’t think we’ve even been alone in a room together before, you know?”

“Huh. Yeah, I think you’re right.”

“Now I get it, though.”

“Get what?”

“Why everyone thinks you and Sungchan are gonna get married.”

“What?”

“Not like, now, but that you guys are going to, you know, make it, or whatever. Soulmates or something.”

You quirked up an eyebrow at the underclassman. “You believe in soulmates, Hyuck?”

“Yeah, I think I do. And I’m only telling you this because I don’t think you’ll call it stupid.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid. I think it’s sweet,” you reassured him, patting his shoulder. “A jock with a romantic streak, very swoon-worthy.”

“That how Sungchan got you?” He teased, elbowing you in the side lightly.

“Something like that.”

“Hmph.”

“This isn’t the end for you,” you said knowingly.

“I know, I know. Just feels like it.”

“I get it. Next time you want to watch Pride and Prejudice fourteen times, you can call me up, okay? Give Mark a break.”

“Careful, I might take you up on that.”

“Wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t serious. But for now, arcade?”

His eyes lit up at you finally revealing where the two of you were going. “Oh hell yeah! I’m so going to annihilate you at air hockey!”

“Don’t count on it,” you warned. “Sungchan’s taught me a few things.”

“Hey, baby, I’m back—” Sungchan skidded to a stop in the threshold of his bedroom, bag of delivery food in hand.

“Hey, Channie,” you smiled up at him as you were sat against his headboard. Donghyuck was curled up on top of the blankets by your legs like a cat, his head in your lap as you gently played with his hair.

“I was gone for like a minute,” your boyfriend gestured to the sophomore with bewilderment. “Does he just have a sixth sense for when you’re alone?”

“I told them they could join us for a movie.”

“Them?”

“Yo, you mind, bro?” Another voice piped up, Yangyang ducking under your boyfriend’s arm to walk in. He flopped across the foot of the bed, partially on Donghyuck’s legs.

“Oh, hey, Sungchan,” Jeno almost sounded surprised to see the captain in his own room as he followed his teammate in, laying down on his front with his arms and head resting on Yangyang’s back, and his feet up by the pillows.

“Well, I didn’t order enough for all of you,” Sungchan sighed, climbing over Jeno to settle into the empty space left beside you. “And no filching off Y/N, Donghyuck. Go downstairs and get your own food if you’re hungry.”

Hyuck tried to protest, “But—”

“Two of you don’t even live here, be grateful I let you eat as much as I do from our fridge, you’re not also getting the dinner that I bought for me and my girlfriend.”

“Fine. I’ll text Mark to bring snacks.”

“Mark, too?!”

Walking back with the guys to the Puck Pad after the last hockey practice of the calendar year, there was an elated buzz in the air now that the athletes were all finally on their own winter break. They were going over their plans for their short break: Jeno and Yangyang were going to Jeno’s parents’ the next day, Ten and Sicheng would both be leaving for their own homes tonight, meanwhile Mark and Donghyuck were both from the area, so they were staying at the Nu Chi house and just meeting up with their families on the holidays.

Realizing that you and Sungchan hadn’t really talked about your holiday plans yet, you peered up at him, about to ask, when suddenly your head started feeling light. You furrowed your brow, trying to blink away the momentary confusion as whatever you were about to say had slipped from your mind. Your head didn’t feel right on your body, but you couldn’t put your finger on what exactly it was.

Sungchan took just one look at you before letting go of your hand to instead grab your upper arm to steady you. His other hand went diving into the pockets of the practice bag in front of you, fervently searching for something.

“Dude, what the hell are you doing?” Jeno, the owner of the bag, whipped around to look at him incredulously.

“Where’s your snacks?” Sungchan was fumbling into another pocket now.

“Ate them already. I’m bulking.”

“Dude, bad idea,” Ten snorted.

“Shut up, Ten!”

Sungchan had started ransacking another teammate’s bag, and successfully pulled out a sports drink this time.

“Hey, that’s mine!” Yangyang protested.

Your boyfriend stopped and sat you on a bench nearby, cracking open the drink. “Y/N, here.”

“Bad idea to what?” You squinted your eyes up between Ten and Jeno curiously.

“Why does she need—” Yangyang was still complaining.

“Jeno’s been talking to Sugar n’ Spice,” Donghyuck answered your question, mischievous glint in his eye.

“Who—” You mumbled, but got cut off by the bottle being pushed against your lips insistently.

“Y/N,” Sungchan’s stern voice refocused you, and you obliged, taking a small sip of the sugary drink.

Ten continued filling you in, “Sugar n’ Spice and Everything Nice. One of Johnny’s old girlfriends.”

Jeno crossed his arms with an indignant huff, “They were not—”

“And who are you really going to believe? Johnny or her?” Donghyuck retorted.

“You didn’t even go here when they—”

“Guys, shut the hell up!” Mark finally snapped at all of them, gesturing to your general unwell demeanor.

“Oh shit dude.” Yangyang’s eyes widened.

“Yeah.”

“Bro, she does not look good,” Jeno stated the obvious.

“She’ll be fine in a minute,” Sungchan replied, holding the bottle back up to your mouth. His voice was firm but gentle as he instructed you, “Y/N, drink some more.”

“Anyway, Jeno, no matter how much you bulk, it’s not going to make up for the inches you’re missing. Height or otherwise,” Donghyuck taunted nonchalantly.

“Lee Donghyuck, I’m going to break your fucking nose, come here!” Jeno lunged for the underclassman, only making him yelp and dart away.

“Don’t—!” Mark’s warning was cut off as Jeno chased Donghyuck down, his voice fading out as he sighed and finished quietly, “...Cause any permanent damage...”

“You okay, Y/N?” Sicheng asked, as you took a couple more small sips.

You nodded. “Just a bit low, uhm, blood sugar. I’ll be okay.”

It always took you a few minutes to realize when you were low on your own, but Sungchan could tell with just one glance at you—it made you wonder what you looked like when you got like this.

Back at the Puck Pad that evening, you had already said your goodbyes to Ten and Sicheng; and Jeno, Donghyuck, and Mark were upstairs in Yangyang’s room allegedly helping him pack. Judging by the video game sounds you could hear from the bottom of the stairs, they had gotten a little distracted. Sungchan and you had settled down in the living room to watch a movie, and with the fog lifted from your mind, you were able to remember what you were going to ask him earlier.

“Hey, Channie?” You picked your head up from his chest to be able to look at him. He was laying on his back across the whole couch, you snuggled in on top of him.

“Hm?” He looked from the TV to you.

“What are your plans?”

“Oh. Well…” He paused the movie, his hands coming to settle on your lower back and sneaking just under the hem of your (his) hoodie to trace spirals into your skin. “Our lease ends after graduation, and Yangyang’s been talking about looking for a place with Jeno, and Ten and Sicheng are probably going to get their own place. I know we haven’t talked about it yet, but every time I try to think what I’m going to do, I just imagine that we would move in together.”

Your dumbfounded silence encouraged him to go on, his voice sounding far away and dreamy.

“Like, I don’t know, being able to wake up next to you everyday, and sleep in on the weekends with you with no practice. Cooking breakfast for you every morning, even just grocery shopping together. It’s all I can think about, really.”

You finally choked out, “I-I meant for the holidays. Like, visiting family, being in town…”

His cheeks started flushing. “Right. Sorry. I’m visiting my family on Christmas Day. What about you?”

“Me too.”

“We should spend Christmas Eve together, then.”

“Yeah, sounds good. New Year’s, too?”

“Of course. Who else would I kiss at midnight?”

A fond smile spread across your lips, and you tilted your head up to give him a peck. “Of course.”

“So, uhm,” he cleared his throat awkwardly. “The other thing I mentioned?”

“What are you doing after graduation? Made a decision about that PhD program?”

“Yep… more school,” he sighed.

“Me, too.” You pulled a blanket up over you two. “I think… Yeah, we can move in together. I’d really like that.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You make me so happy, baby.”

“You could just move in with me? To my apartment?” You suggested as a grin spread across your face. You were getting giddy already imagining it.

Another forehead kiss. “I would love that.”

“You make me really happy too, Channie,” you murmured, your fingertip tracing mindless figure-eights into the front of his shirt.

“I love you so much.” He cradled your face with two hands with a tenderness that made your heart ache to be a part of him in a way that you could never physically attain.

You leaned in to touch your nose to his. “I love you, too.”

Christmas Eve was just a couple days later, and instead of walking in the park amongst the freshly fallen snow, or touring the elaborate lights put up in the rich neighborhood nearby, or baking Christmas cookies while watching cheesy Christmas movies, or any of your other cute Christmas plans with Sungchan, you were bedridden with a migraine. A bad one.

You let out a soft whimper as tears welled up in your eyes, both from the pain and from pure frustration at having something else ruined for you because of these stupid migraines. Ice skating you could reschedule, but you couldn’t take a rain check on your first Christmas (Eve) together.

Sungchan curled his arms around you tighter, a steady pressure across your back. “It’s been two hours,” he murmured as quietly as possible.

“I don’t want my stupid fucking medication that isn’t fucking working,” you practically spat out, the first tears slipping down your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” Sungchan pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder, careful to avoid your scalp, which currently felt like it was on fire in addition to your usual squeezing and stabbing migraine pain. Side effect from a new rescue medication your neurologist was having you try. Safe to say it wasn’t a winner.

At the distress in his own tone over his usual regrets of seeing you hurting but not being able to help, you finally broke down into open sobs. Clenching your eyes shut tight, you clung to his arms. Your chest shook with every breath as you quietly wailed, burying your face in your pillow. You couldn’t bear to turn around and see the angst on your boyfriend’s features.

“Oh, baby,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “If I could take all your pain away and put it on myself, I would. God, I’m so, so sorry.”

You could hardly talk past the solid, hard lump in your throat, at first letting out a couple more strangled sobs as your tears and spit ruined your pillowcase. When you finally blubbered something out, your voice was distraught and despondent, “Why can I never… never have nice things? Why does it feel like the world is so big and nothing can go right and it all hurts so much… and I’m just so small and my body and my brain are… so broken?”

“I don’t know, baby, I don’t know,” Sungchan replied desperately, fully weeping with you into your shoulder now. “You don’t deserve this. I’m so sorry.”

You eventually fell asleep, but unlike your typical migraine naps, this one didn’t bring any sort of peace to Sungchan’s mind. Usually the naps were a good sign, you would wake up without the migraine and be relatively all better. But you’d never cried yourself to sleep during a migraine before, and having to hold a bawling you in his arms while he couldn’t do anything but apologize for being absolutely useless had left him shaken up. He didn’t think he’d be able to nap with you this time.

Sungchan didn’t dare move, keeping watch over you as you slept as if he could keep anymore pain away. He could still hear the echo of his heart breaking into a million pieces the moment you’d started crying.

Your head still fucking hurt. But this was a different throbbing than before, and was definitely from the heavy crying you’d done earlier. You groaned, covering your eyes and sniffling.

You could hear Sungchan’s breathing next to you, but he didn’t say anything as you rolled over to bury your face in his neck. Letting out a deep sigh, you found that you were dried out, unable to summon more tears. Finally, you spoke, “What time is it?”

God, your throat was dry.

“Six forty-five…” he replied softly.

“Well, Merry Christmas, Channie,” you grumbled.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

“Do you think it’s too late to go see the Christmas lights?”

You could feel him tense up under you.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to make yourself do anything for me, baby,” he reassured you, rubbing your back.

“I want to…” You insisted. “I just… probably need my earplugs. And sunglasses.”

“Of course, whatever you want.”

“And then we can come back and do eggnog pancakes?” You asked hopefully. The migraine had started right before Sungchan could start cooking this morning, so you weren’t able to enjoy your promised festive breakfast prepared by your boyfriend.

“Sounds like a plan.”

“And then presents.”

“Like I said, anything my girl wants.”

And so Sungchan drove you around in his car with the radio off, your sunglasses on like it wasn’t dusk right then, and earplugs in to drown out the sounds of passing traffic. The two of you were silent through the whole ride, communicating solely by squeezing the other’s hand that was laced with yours over the center console, pointing at any lights and decorations that either of you particularly liked, and smiling and nodding in acknowledgement.

When you got back to your apartment, you took off your sunglasses and earplugs to plop yourself down at your kitchen table while Sungchan once again brought out ingredients. He hummed Christmas carols while he cooked, and you rested your cheek in your hand to watch him fondly as he bustled around.

Your head was still throbbing, and you winced as you pulled your hood up and gathered your knees to your chest. As Sungchan opened the fridge to put the eggnog away, you saw him pull something else out, a familiar box.

“When is your injection?” He asked quietly, holding the container up.

You scrunched your nose as you brought out your phone to check your calendar. “It’s… oh shit, today.”

“I’ll leave it out to warm up.” He set it on the counter before going over to your stove and setting a timer for an hour.

You were supposed to wait at least 30 minutes after the medication left the fridge to inject it, but you liked to wait closer to an hour or two to make sure it had fully come to room temperature, to reduce any injection pain.

The pancakes were ready soon, and Sungchan and you ate them on the couch, the odd bits of conversation floating around between bites.

“So what are you and your family doing tomorrow?” Sungchan rested his chin on your shoulder.

“Oh, dinner’s at my parents’ place. I’ll pop over to Chenle’s family’s Christmas, too. They’re just across the street,” you hummed. “We don’t do a lot, but everyone comes over, so it’ll be a packed house.”

“That’s nice.”

“What about you, Channie? Any Christmas traditions?”

“You’re eating it,” he said proudly. “My dad always makes eggnog pancakes on Christmas morning. Then we go to my grandparents’ house for the day.”

You couldn’t wade through the slop that your mind was covered in to be able to aptly express how you felt about Sungchan sharing one of his family’s Christmas traditions with you, so instead you turned your head to press a long kiss to his cheek, squeezing his forearm appreciatively. He seemed to get the message, and moved his head to be able to kiss you gently.

“I love you, Y/N,” he mumbled against your lips. Then, pulled back just enough to look you in the eye. “I’m so glad we got to spend today together.”

You couldn’t help but bite down on your tongue bitterly at that. “Yeah, I love you too, Channie.”

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“My stupid migraines ruined our day! Again!” You turned away from him, dropping your face in your hands.

Immediately, one of his large hands rubbed your back while his other came to rest on your knee. “Baby, baby, my day wasn’t ruined.”

“We didn’t get to do anything how we wanted, and all I did was cry and make you cry!” You felt your eyes growing wet again. “And I’m fucking crying again!”

“I really do wish you hadn’t spent all day in pain,” he admitted. “You deserve to have the perfect Christmas Eve like all the cheesy rom-coms you like. But please don’t feel like you ruined my day or anything. I spent the whole day with my girl, which is a perfect day in my book.”

You wiped at your face messily, looking over your shoulder at him. “You really mean that?”

“Of course.”

“Even though I made you cry on Christmas? …Eve?”

“Well, it wouldn’t have been fair for you to be the only one of us who did.”

That finally made you chuckle, and Sungchan gave you a soft smile in return as he pulled you into him. You wrapped your arms around his waist, enjoying his warmth.

“Thank you, my Sungchannie,” you mumbled. “For being the most wonderful boyfriend in the whole universe.”

“The whole universe?” He repeated skeptically.

“Yep. Not even a competition.”

The kitchen timer went off then, and he gave you a final shoulder squeeze and peck to your temple before standing up and heading into the kitchen. He returned with your medication and stupidly large first aid kit. Popping the first aid kit open, he dutifully started pulling out an alcohol wipe, then an antihistamine. Sungchan had been around for your last injection by happenstance, and watched your every move carefully, so you weren’t surprised that he was able to get everything ready now.

“I don’t need that unless I break out,” you tried to point out. You weren’t allergic to the medication, but sometimes you got hives around the injection site within the first day or so just from it making your skin more sensitive.

“Baby, you always break out,” he insisted, presumably remembering when you started reacting less than an hour later last time, and all your stories about other post-injection reactions.

“No, there’s been like… a couple times I haven’t.”

He pointedly set the antihistamine down with the alcohol swab, then held up the bandage options for you to choose from.

“Mm… Sanrio,” you nodded to your newest addition. “I want a Kuromi.”

He fished out a bandaid with a Kuromi pattern on it, setting it aside. You broke the seal on the medication box as Sungchan walked into the kitchen. At the sound of running water, you looked up curiously, watching as he thoroughly washed his hands to the elbow like he was about to scrub in for an operation.

As he sat back down beside you, he held out his hands. “Can I do it?”

You froze, freshly opened box in hand. In the nearly two years that you’d been taking the injectable, you’d always done it yourself. Even your first demonstration dose at your neurologist’s office you’d done on your own to learn how to operate it. It had never occurred to you to ask anybody else to, really. Technically, the directions said you could, but you lived by yourself, had always been alone.

“If you’re okay with it,” Sungchan added after a couple beats of silence. “It’s fine if you want to do it yourself. I get it. You’ve just had a really long day, I want to help.”

“They say someone else can do the back of your arm…” You looked down at the small card of directions that you picked up out of the carton, a diagram highlighting all the possible injection areas. “But I want to be able to see it. So you’ll still have to do my thigh.”

“Okay.” He nodded seriously, accepting the box as you handed it to him.

He took a moment to study the instructions very carefully, and you opened the bandage in preparation. When he set the directions down and picked up the alcohol wipe, you rolled up the leg of your shorts and readjusted in your seat.

“I usually do it here.” You pointed to a spot, and he wiped the cool material over the area thoroughly.

Next, he grabbed the auto-injector from the box, pulling the cap off the end and dropping it back in the carton. You consciously tried to level your breathing as he paused to read the directions one more time. Sungchan pinched your skin and pulled it apart until it was properly taut.

“Do you want a countdown?” He asked.

“No, but hold on, I need to relax my muscle.” You flexed and eased your thigh a couple times, letting out a deep breath. “Okay, good.”

You kept your eyes focused just off to the side of the injection—you’ve never been able to watch needles go in you that you weren’t operating yourself, but you couldn’t fully look away this time. So instead, your gaze was on Sungchan’s forearm, the auto-injector enough in your peripheral that you could tell if something were to go wrong.

He pressed the blunt plastic tip against your skin. As requested, you had no countdown before the near-simultaneous click of the pen and prick of the needle came, followed by the stinging pain of the medication being pumped into you. You let out a slight hiss, already counting in your mind. The built-in indicator that meant the injection was over was displayed on the pen already, but you noticed that Sungchan kept holding it there until you reached your fifteen-count in your head. He had remembered from when he watched you last time, and must have been counting himself. The directions said to leave it in until the indicator showed, about 15 seconds, but you always liked to count to 15 seconds just in case, something you’d mentioned off-handedly last time.

As soon as he took the injector out and tossed it in the box on the table, you watched as a dot of blood and clear fluid—medicine—welled to the surface. Sungchan rushed to pull the bandage out, applying it to the site, catching the drop just in time before it fell down your leg. He gingerly smoothed down the ends, Kuromi smirking back up at you two.

Sungchan took the empty auto-injector into your bedroom, and you heard the telltale sound of it clanking into the plastic sharps disposal bin you kept under the bathroom sink. When he came back, you were already picking up the trash and closing up the first aid kit.

“Don’t forget your antihistamine,” he reminded you, holding out the tablet and your water bottle.

With your hands full, you leaned forward to take a sip from the straw of your bottle, then opened your mouth like a baby bird for him to drop the pill into. You swallowed it with slight difficulty, but he seemed content that you’d taken it, at least.

After everything was cleaned up, you meandered back into the living room, stopping in front of the couch to inspect the injection site with a pout.

“Is everything okay, baby?” Sungchan sat forward, brow furrowed with concern.

“Hurts…” You whined, flopping down next to him. “It didn’t use to burn after like this, but ever since my neuro upped my dose last month… it hurts.”

“Aw, I’m sorry,” he pulled you closer to him with two arms around your waist.

You made a small ‘humph’ sound, habitually poking at the injection site. Ow, dumbass.

“Thank you, baby,” Sungchan mumbled into your neck. “For letting me help you.”

The genuine relief in his voice made you smile to yourself. You knew how cut up he was every time he couldn’t help during your migraines, and at first you didn’t get why he wanted to do your injection this time. After all, this was the same guy who had you come with him to get his blood drawn for his routine drug testing by disguising it as an ice cream date then suddenly remembering that he had to stop by the student health center on the way there (and jumped at your offer to come back with him to hold his hand instead of waiting in the lobby). But in his mind, doing your injection must’ve been the best he could do to help prevent you from hurting again like he’d seen today.

“Why are you the sweetest boy ever?” You whispered, kissing his hair.

Sungchan let out a muffled giggle. “Ever?”

“Ever.”

“Mm, I don’t know,” he hummed playfully. “Think I was born like this.”

“We’ve got to make sure you don’t go out in the rain, or you’ll melt,” you teased.

“I mean what I said the other day, you know. Just didn’t want to scare you… but I really do think this is the most I’ve ever loved someone. I know it hasn’t been that long, and it always feels like I’m rushing stuff with you, but it just always feels right. Everything always feels right all the time with you.”

“I knew what I was getting myself into when you said ‘I love you’ on our second date,” you reminded him, fond smile flitting across your lips.

“I thought we agreed to never talk about that again,” he grumbled.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. But you were so adorable when you tried to pretend like you didn’t.”

“You were wearing my hoodie and had whipped cream on your nose and you were just so… perfect,” he defended himself, trailing off into a dreamy sigh. He smooched your cheek loudly. “Still are.”

You laughed, squirming a little bit at the sudden attack of affection, but not moving away as he peppered more overzealous kisses to your face. You instead cradled his cheek with one of your hands.

When he’d finally stopped to rest his chin on your shoulder again, you responded a bit more seriously to him, “I love you too… a lot. I don’t really have any romantic metric, to be honest. Migraines have sort of made it hard to date… or inconvenient, at least. But you need to know that I really do love and appreciate you so, so much, my Sungchannie.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he nodded just the slightest against you, gently rocking the two of you side-to-side.

You grabbed one of his hands to play with his fingers, slightly calloused from the weightlifting you knew was part of his mandatory hockey conditioning. Hockey season was already halfway over. His last season. You couldn’t imagine Jung Sungchan not playing hockey.

“Channie?”

“My girl?”

“I know we already talked about moving in together after graduation, but… What are you going to do after hockey’s over? I kind of can’t picture you not on the ice.”

You could feel him take a deep breath, and his free hand came to join the fray as it found one of your wrists. Specifically, the one that sported a thick blue and orange paracord bracelet with five plastic alphabet beads on it—2-7-J-S-C—that every hockey player made their freshman year. Sungchan gave you his not too long ago, on your one-month anniversary.

“I don’t know,” he whispered, as if he couldn’t make himself say it any louder. “I’ve tried to think about it too and… I can’t. I’ve been playing since I was a kid. I don’t… really have anything else. Just school, hockey, and you.”

“We’ll find you a hobby or two,” you promised, squeezing his hand. “Maybe you can take piano lessons again.”

He chuckled, letting you gently curl and uncurl his crooked pinky, the one he had broken that made him stop playing in the first place. “I don’t know… I think that might be gone for me.”

“If it’s something you really liked, you should do it,” you insisted. “It would just be for fun. I think it’d be nice, if you found the right teacher.”

“Well…”

“If you want to, Channie. I’m just brainstorming here.”

“Hockey season’s not over yet,” he pointed out. “We can circle back around in the summer.”

“That’s true, that’s true,” you agreed. “You should be savoring every moment right now, not letting me make you prematurely existential. I’m sorry.”

“You’re forward-thinking, baby, I appreciate that.”

“But it’s your last season, you don’t need me reminding you of that all the time.”

“Then why are we still talking about it, hm?” He said, mischievous smile on his face.

“We’re not! We’re not!” You held your hands up in surrender. “It’s present time! I swear!”

Sungchan laughed as he leaned in to press a kiss to your temple.

“Hi, Mr. Zhong!” You were beaming as you walked into Chenle’s house the next day, immediately being wrapped in a bear hug by his dad. “Merry Christmas!”

“Y/N! It’s been too long, too long,” he complained as you went to hug your best friend next, who had also come to greet you.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N,” Chenle hugged you tightly.

“Merry Christmas, LeLe.”

Letting go of your friend, you turned back to his dad, who was still waiting for a response, his hands on his hips.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Zhong,” you bowed your head in apology. “We just get so busy with school and—”

“Yeah, Y/N’s been really busy with her new boyfriend!” Chenle announced loudly, making sure that every occupant in the whole house could hear him.

“Y/N! You have a boyfriend?!” Mrs. Zhong called from the kitchen.

“Boyfriend?!” Mr. Zhong echoed in shock, his eyes going comically wide.

You were already smacking Chenle on the head and pinching his ear furiously. “Zhong Chenle, you little— I’m going to kill you!”

Chenle jerked out of your grip and ran away, you hot on his heels. He ran right into the kitchen, where his mother and several aunties immediately swarmed you.

“Y/N!” Mrs. Zhong grasped you by the wrist, pulling you over towards the stove where several things were cooking. She grabbed a spoonful of something from a bubbling pot and held it out towards you to try. As you leaned forward to taste it, she asked, “So, who is this boyfriend Chenle is talking about?”

“Is he handsome?” Another woman asked.

“Does he hold the door open for you?”

“What’s his name?”

“Does he know how to cook?”

“Do we know him?”

“Does he have a job?”

“How did you two meet?”

“Show us a picture!”

You choked on the rather delicious spoonful of soup that you’d just taken as you heard Chenle’s cackling laughter in the background. Wiping your mouth, you turned around to shoot him a glare before answering some of their questions.

“His name is Jung Sungchan, he goes to the same college as Chenle and I. We actually all had a class together a few years ago,” you started off slowly.

“Pictures, Y/N!” One of the aunties insisted.

“Yeah, Y/N, show us pictures!” Chenle repeated. “Or I will.”

“I will end you,” you said through gritted teeth as you pulled out your phone. Flicking through your gallery, you found a few that you really liked.

They were from his last home game, and these in particular were taken by Taeyong, as it had been the game against their league rivals, which drew in the graduated Nu Chi brothers and team members. You pulled the first one up, him still in his uniform as you had gone down to congratulate him right on the ice. He was towering over you even more than normal in his skates, an arm around your shoulders as you wrapped both of yours around his waist, the two of you smiling at the camera. As you went to show the picture to everyone, your skin started growing hot with the ‘ooh’s and ‘aah’s that sprang up among the women.

“He plays hockey for our school, he’s actually captain.” You grew even more embarrassed as Mrs. Zhong zoomed in on Sungchan’s face.

“Chenle,” she looked up at her son with squinted eyes. “Is this your handsome friend who brought you home when you were drunk?”

“Mom, that was one time three years ago,” he groaned, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Chenle,” she said sternly.

“Yes, that’s him.”

Her face broke into a lovely smile. “Oh, I liked him. Very polite.”

“Yeah, I know, Mom. You still talk about it.”

“When was this?” You asked your friend with bewilderment. The two of you did everything together, including getting embarrassingly shitfaced as freshmen. Or, Chenle would get embarrassingly shitfaced and you would watch, thanks to your migraine meds.

“There was a Nu Chi party, after the Halloween one…” Chenle explained, and you appreciated him leaving out the details of the Halloween party in front of all these people. “Long story short, I didn’t realize how strong the punch was. Sungchan gave me a ride home.”

“Very polite, very handsome,” Mrs. Zhong nodded approvingly. She swiped to the next picture for you, this one of Sungchan kissing your cheek as you laughed and grabbed his jersey.

They all tittered and made various comments and approving noises, and you quickly turned your phone off and put it away bashfully.

“So, yeah… that’s him,” you finished awkwardly among their disappointed noises of you taking away the photos.

“I like him.” Chenle’s mom patted your cheek before turning back to the stove. “And if he gives you any trouble, you know Chenle will…”

“Mom did you see him? What do you think I could possibly do?” Chenle retorted. “He literally carried me in here over his shoulder, I don’t think I could really defend Y/N’s honor if it came to it!”

“Chenle…”

“Fine, Mom!”

v. i sat across from you, reading ulysses; and whilst i tried to project some intellect i’m not convinced i knew what it all meant, but i did know that the words were so pretty

“Have I ever told you how pretty you are?” Sungchan mumbled, resting his head on your shoulder.

You giggled, brushing some of his hair from his face. “Hmm, a couple times.”

“What?!” His head snapped back up, distress on his features. “Only twice?! God, what kind of boyfriend am I?”

The two of you were back in the team’s favorite dive bar, this time after the last home game of the season. It had been a smashing victory—in addition to the seniors’ last time to play a game on their home ice—meaning that everyone, including all of the long-graduated players and Nu Chi Tau brothers who had shown up, were celebrating extra hard tonight. You’d driven your car specifically to allow Sungchan to let loose for the occasion, hence his currently more-than-buzzed state.

He’d pulled you into his lap at the corner booth you were sitting at some time ago, morphing into the lovey-dovey cuddle monster that he always was when tipsy. Not that he exactly kept his hands to himself when he was sober either, but as soon as alcohol entered the equation, it was like he thought he’d die if he weren’t holding you at all times.

“I was playing, baby, you tell me that all the time,” you reassured him.

“Oh, good.” He breathed out in relief, going back to snuggling up to your shoulder. “Because you’re sooo pretty. Like, the prettiest person I’ve ever seen.”

“Thanks, Channie.” You kissed the top of his head. “I think you’re pretty, too.”

“You do?”

“For sure.” You traced the line of the bridge of his nose. “My pretty boy.”

He hummed contentedly, but didn’t say anything more, letting his eyes flutter shut.

Ten, Taeyong, and another graduated Nu Chi brother, Kun, came over to your booth then, sliding into the seat across from you.

“Is he asleep?” Taeyong gestured to Sungchan.

“No, just a cuddly drunk,” you explained with a fond chuckle.

“‘M not drunk…” Your boyfriend protested.

“Tell that to the victory shots you were doing with Hyuck, Jeno, and Yangyang an hour ago,” you snorted, pushing your glass of water over towards him. “Here, some water, Channie.”

Kun offered out the half-eaten basket of onion rings that he’d walked over with. “Have some of these, too, Sungchan.”

“Sweet, thanks!” He grabbed a couple and stuffed them in his mouth happily.

“Thanks, Kun,” you smiled at him. “He didn’t drink on an empty stomach, so we should be ready to go in a bit. I want him mostly able to walk on his own two feet before we leave, though. Carrying a drunk Chenle and drunk Sungchan would be very different experiences, I feel.”

They all snickered, and you looked over at where your friend was currently pulling all of the cash out of his pocket to bet on a pool game between Johnny, Jaehyun—a former hockey player who had graduated last year, Jungwoo, and Yuta—former hockey player and Nu Chi brother, from the same cohort as Johnny. It looked like Dejun was running the betting pool, collecting Chenle’s money in addition to Hendery’s, Mark’s, and Hyuck’s.

“I feel like we should do something about the gambling happening over there…” Taeyong sighed, having been looking in the same direction as you.

“Probably,” Kun agreed, though neither of them made any move to get up. They simultaneously took swigs of their drinks.

“Y/N, what did you think of the reading for Direct Study?” Ten asked you, resting his very pink cheek in his hand.

“Oh, I thought it was fantastic!” You lit up. You and Ten both had Dr. Son for a Direct Study course this semester, and he was letting you two collaborate since you had such similar tastes in literature—you had a feeling  your professor also liked having only one reading list and being able to meet with the both of you at once instead of separately. “I’ve always loved that author, though. The way her short stories can either be a quick read or you can really sit and take your time with them to absorb and peel back as many layers as you want.”

“You’ve read her before?”

“I recommended her to Dr. Son a while ago, actually. I read another one of her short story collections and sort of fell in love. I’ve been working through her whole body of work on my own time, but I hadn’t made it to this one yet, so I’m going into it with fresh eyes like you. I’m excited to see what you’ve been getting out of her works.”

“I think her diction is really fascinating.”

“Yes!” You gushed. “You can tell she takes her time with which words she’s using. Oh, I just love it.”

“You’re doing the Master’s in Literary Theory and Critical Analysis next year, right?”

“Yep! Picked my classes a couple weeks ago.”

Your friend flashed you a wide grin. “Thank God. There will be someone else competent.”

“Yeah, I’m doing Lit and Crit, and this one—” you patted Sungchan’s head as he was still shoveling onion rings in his mouth “—is going for his PhD in molecular biology.”

“Woah.” Ten’s eyebrows shot up.

“And what are you going to do with that, Sungchan?” Taeyong asked curiously.

“Fish,” your boyfriend answered absentmindedly through a mouthful of food.

You couldn’t help but laugh with your whole chest at his answer, even as you went to cover his mouth. “Chew and swallow before you talk, Channie. I think you just spat crumbs on poor Kun.”

The older man was flicking a piece of an onion ring off of his arm, giving you a strained, close-lipped smile.

Sungchan spent a considerable amount of time chewing his food, then washed it down with your water before giving a more cognizant answer. “I’m going to study a disease in a fish.”

“Molecular biology with a minor concentration in marine biology,” you corrected yourself and clarified his answer a bit more. “He’s joining one of his professors’ research teams.”

“Congrats, Sungchan,” the former Nu Chi president told him sincerely.

“Yeah, dude, wow,” Ten blinked, laughed, then shook his head. “You know, I don’t even know if I knew what your major actually was this whole time.”

“Seriously?” You snorted. “You two have been teammates for four years, and have lived together for two years.”

“I mean, I knew he was a STEM major,” Ten tried to defend himself. “But past that… yeah, I had no clue. It’s just sort of you know, when you think of Jung Sungchan, you think of hockey. He’s the hockey captain. I mean, does anybody really know Mark’s major?”

“I—”

“Not you, Taeyong, we know he was your Little.”

You opened and closed your mouth a couple of times, but found yourself drawing a blank. After all this time of getting closer to the team, you had sort of prided yourself on being friends with and knowing all of your boyfriend’s teammates on some individual level as people. But frustratingly, all you could think up for Mark was that he was Nu Chi president, center on the hockey team, and had been in your Comp I class a few years ago—a Gen Ed credit.

“Well damn,” you said bitterly.

“Exactly.”

After a beat, Taeyong spoke up quietly, “Music Theory. He likes producing music.”

Ten, Sungchan, and you all let out a chorus of ‘ohh’s at this revelation. You looked over at where Mark was spectating the pool game—from a vantage point of leaning tipsily against Johnny’s side when he wasn’t shooting, and against Jaehyun’s side when Johnny was shooting. You watched with amusement as he got passed back and forth, happy to see him being taken care of for once instead of taking care of all his friends.

“I should go swap out my Little’s drink for some water,” Taeyong announced. It was then that Hyuck must have made some comment to Mark, as Mark shoved his friend away with a loud complaint, his tone sounding rather embarrassed. “And my grand-little too…”

Dejun, Hendery, and Chenle were spectating their drunken spat in fits of giggles. Dejun and Hendery both reached for their drinks again, and Kun shook his head.

“I should do the same for my own demons before they get to that point,” Kun stood up with Taeyong.

Ten followed them out, “And I’m not going to third wheel. Bye, you two!”

“Bye, guys,” you gave the three of them farewells. “Congrats again, Ten.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he beamed down at you genuinely.

“Oh, Kun!” You called for him before he could get out of earshot.

He stopped a turned to you with an inquisitive eyebrow raised.

“Thanks for the onion rings, by the way.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I have one more favor to ask: Can you cut Chenle off too?” You requested. “And I’m not sure how you all are sorting out DDs tonight, but—”

“I’ll make sure he gets home safe,” he promised. “You two have a goodnight.”

“Thanks. Goodnight!”

Looking between Sungchan and the empty onion ring basket, you then checked the time on your phone.

“Alright, are you ready to go, baby?” You asked him quietly.

He nodded with his whole upper body. “Am I going home with you?”

“Yep. I’m taking you back to my place, and our classes all got canceled tomorrow for Spring Break, remember?” You shouldered your tote bag. “So we get to sleep in.”

“That’s my favorite thing.”

You giggled. “Sleeping in?”

“No, waking up with you,” he wrapped both his arms around your waist again. “And giving you a good morning kiss, and cooking breakfast for you, and helping you with your meds and your cuff.”

“I have a feeling I’ll be getting you meds in the morning tomorrow,” you quipped, pecking his forehead. “But I think mornings with my Sungchannie are one of my favorite things, too.”

“Sounds like a perfect match to me.”

“Hard to argue you with you there,” you snickered. “So are you ready to go? The sooner we go home and go to sleep, the sooner it’ll be morning, you know.”

“You’re so smart, baby. My girl’s the smartest ever…”

Pushing yourself out of his lap, you pulled him out of the booth after you and onto his feet. He immediately looped his arm around your shoulders, and you kept a hand on his chest and an arm around his waist to steady him as you started towards the exit. At the door, the two of you stopped to give the whole bar a final wave and call goodbye to anybody who heard you. You got a loud, raucous chorus of yelled and slurred goodbyes in return before you headed out to your car.

Back at your apartment, you made him change out of his clothes that smelled like the bar and into some of his that he kept here, then got into your own pajamas for the night before flopping into bed.

“Okay, question,” you announced as he laid his head in your lap, throwing an arm across your legs as if you were going anywhere.

“About?” He asked, his eyes fluttering shut and a content smile coming to his face as you started playing with his hair.

“How do you think you made it to the top two in Phantasmagorical Phriday this year? I mean, I’ve been thinking about it, and I’m not trying to be mean, Channie, or like, a Lit major elitist or anything, but Chenle and I have both been studying this stuff for four years now, right? Hendery has at least taken professional writing classes and some other stuff for his Comm degree. I think. But, no offense, you STEM majors aren’t exactly lauded for your excellent prose. First year, okay, we’re all brand new at it, and Dr. Son actually did real workshopping with us on it. But after that, we were essentially just getting coffee together once a month and then sending him a short story.”

He squinted one eye open to peer up at you curiously. “Do you think I bought off Dr. Son or something?”

“Bought off our professor so that you would almost win? Sounds like a waste of your money. Maybe bought off Chenle and Hendery to write shitty stories this year and better your chances? But you knew I was so morally upstanding that I wouldn’t take the bribe.”

“Oh, definitely. You’ve cracked it,” he snickered, closing his eyes again to enjoy your fingers working through his hair.

“I mean… Do you have a secret poetry journal in here somewhere?”

“No. You just kind of are being a little bit of a—” he was cut off by a loud yawn “—Lit major elitist, baby.”

“Mm?” You tilted your head with a confusion, perturbed frown on your face.

“You think that every STEM major just gets their Gen Ed humanities credits and never picks up a book again for the rest of their life.”

“Well…”

“Am I wrong?”

“It’s not like I’m out here balancing equations for fun!” You tried to defend yourself. “I got my science credits and never looked back.”

“I took a few more creative writing and literature classes sometimes,” he shrugged. “Whenever I had a spare slot in my schedule, or needed a couple credits of whatever to keep my scholarship for the semester.”

“Yeah, student athletes, you guys have to be full-time in order to keep your scholarships.”

“Mhm. Sometimes all the classes I needed for my degree that were happening in a semester didn’t uhm, didn’t make the minimum credits, so I needed another class or two.”

“Why lit classes? And writing classes?”

“Baby, it’s literally what you’ve been studying for four years and you’re acting like you can’t understand why anybody would be interested in it,” Sungchan pointed out, pinching your thigh.

You swatted his hand away. “No, I’m just trying to understand you.”

“Did I really act like I hated Dr. Son’s class that much freshman year? I did all four years of Phantasmagorical Phriday.”

“No, you didn’t seem like you hated it or anything. I just thought that you would’ve used the extra slots for easy classes. PE or something.”

“Yeah, Coach was always trying to get me to take his classes.”

“But you just really like writing and lit classes that much?”

“Why is this so surprising to you?”

“Well— I just kind of feel bad that I keep leaving you out of all the crit lit conversations that Ten and I have,” you admitted guiltily, not intending to leave him out of all your fun conversation with his teammate about books in your lit classes, but he never seemed all that interested; nor had he read any of the books, to your knowledge. “Do you want to borrow books or read along so you can talk with us about it?”

“That’s okay, baby,” he told you, reaching up to pat your hands that were already on top of his head. “Honestly, I like listening to you talk about all this stuff more than I ever liked the classes themselves.” After a beat, he absentmindedly added, “I would kind of pick them half-hoping you had signed up for the class, too.”

You tilted your head curiously. “Really?”

“It was more like a little daydream that I had. That I’d walk in on the first day of class and you’d be sitting there and recognize me and smile at me and ask if I wanted to sit with you. Then, you know, we’d swap notes, be study buddies, and I would finally get the courage to ask you out,” Sungchan sighed, nuzzling his cheek against your thigh in an almost nostalgic and bittersweet way.

“Channie…”

“That was really embarrassing to admit. I thought I was going to die without telling anybody that, especially you,” he mumbled, his voice becoming more muffled as he turned his head to fully bury his face in your lap.

“You are a bit tipsy, baby,” you reminded him gently, stroking the back of his head.

He turned onto his back to fully look up at you, taking a slow blink before adding emphatically, “And I just love you so much.”

You grabbed him by the sides of the face to look him in the eye very seriously, but couldn’t hold it for very long, tender smile coming back to your features almost immediately.

“I love you too,” you affirmed, and he was once again beaming, grabbing your hand to presumably kiss your knuckles, but he missed a bit and kissed the back of your wrist instead. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course! Anything for my girl.”

“Your girl wants to know…” You said your words slowly and enunciated to make sure he understood. “On the first day of Dr. Son’s class, do you remember how you felt about me then?”

Specifically, you were thinking about the second game of the season, when you’d learned about Hendery and Chenle’s bet from freshman year. Hendery swore he could tell Sungchan had a crush on you from the first day of Dr. Son’s class, but you had your doubts. Mostly because you yourself couldn’t even remember looking at Sungchan on the first day of class, much less even talking or, God forbid, flirting with him—literally anything that would warrant him apparently outwardly crushing on you.

His face immediately scrunched up. “Mmm…”

“It’s okay baby, I know it was a long time ago, and you’ve had a bit to drink—”

“No, I remember, I remember. I’m just afraid you’re going to think I’m a creep…”

“More of a creep than signing up for classes in my major hoping I was going to be in them?”

“I’m sorry!” He rushed to apologize, his features immediately turning distraught as he half-sat up in his haste to say sorry.

“Shh, shh, my Sungchannie, it’s okay, it’s okay,” you quieted him, squeezing his hand that he was still holding and stroking his forehead, encouraging him to lay down again. “I was just teasing you, I’m sorry, that was mean of me. I think it’s cute, I promise.”

“You think I’m cute?” He asked with a heavy pout.

“Baby boy, I’m in love with you. Of course I think you’re cute.”

The corners of his mouth pulled back into a small smile. “Yay…”

“So? Will you please tell me?”

“M’kay…” He huffed and readjusted again, this time to rest some of his weight on his shoulder as his head was still pillowed in your lap. “I remember everything about that first class, you know? The room number, where we were all sitting, the Phantasma Phour…”

“Really?”

“Third flour, 3104.”

“I thought Gothic Lit was on the second floor?”

“It was on the third floor only for the first week then it got moved to the second floor for the rest of the semester.”

“Huh. Good memory.”

“I remember because the third floor of the Lang building is always super hot, but I didn’t know that because it was our first day. I wore my new hoodie from the team because I was so proud to be on the team, but I didn’t have another shirt on under it because I heard the Science building was always cold from some other Bio majors, so I thought I wasn’t going to have to take it off. So when we were in Dr. Son’s class that first day, I couldn’t take the hoodie off, even though it was like a billion degrees in that room…”

“Oh, oh no, Channie.” You attempted to coo sympathetically through your chuckles.

Sungchan sighed, pulling your hand back to his hair. “Anyway, Dr. Son had us in that Socratic circle, remember?”

“Yep, I remember.” You nodded, obliging to his whims easily and playing with his hair again.

“I was right next to the door, because I just wanted to get in and out of there. Hendery ran in a couple minutes late, and he ended up next to me. You and Chenle sat together at the front, a few seats away from Dr. Son’s desk, right next to the window. I just remember thinking that you were really pretty, with the window kind of giving you this little halo of light.”

“Baby, how is that creepy?” You chuckled. “You thought I was pretty.”

“You don’t remember what happened in the rest of that first class, do you?”

“What? What happened?”

“Dr. Son had us do an icebreaker with a partner…” He trailed off leadingly.

“Channie, I’ve taken so many of Dr. Son’s classes at this point, I can’t even remember who I was paired up with for that one,” you tried to reassure him.

“It was me.”

“Oh.”

“So not only was I a sweaty mess in that hoodie, but I had to be a sweaty mess while talking to this really pretty girl.”

“Channie…” You looked down at him, guilty for not remembering this at all. Though maybe it was for the better if he was apparently such a mess? Maybe that would soothe his distress over “embarrassing” himself in front of you.

“I thought Dr. Son was going to have us ask the normal stuff, name, major, year, you know. But it was Dr. Son, so of course it wasn’t normal.”

“Of course.”

“He made us ask all that, and made us ask each other something we were afraid of, and something we wanted. It wasn’t going to be shared with the class, just with our partner. I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of you, pretty girl that I knew nothing about other than your name, that you were a freshman, and a Lit major. I really wanted to impress you, but I couldn’t come up with anything super deep. Do you know what I said?”

“No…” You confessed, tone already apologetic as you held his gaze. “I’m so sorry, baby, I don’t remember any of this.”

“S’okay…” He yawned again. “I said the truth. I was afraid of not being as good at hockey as I thought I was, and that I wanted to be team captain one day.”

“Those were good answers. It was the truth, not some philosophical lie. And look at you now, baby boy,” you told him strongly, patting his chest before going back to stroking his head.

“Mm… Back then you just kind of had this look on your face that wasn’t really dislike or even boredom or anything but just sort of like… that was exactly what you were expecting me to say. I felt like I’d just put myself into the dumb, self-centered, sports-obsessed jock archetype in your mind and I’d never be able to get out. Because then you answered and I wanted to smack myself for giving such stupid answers and wearing that stupid hoodie.”

“What did I say?”

“You were afraid of what the outcome of your brain MRI was going to be. And you wanted to hurt less.”

Your jaw dropped in mortification. “Oh my god… Sungchan, I’m so sorry I just dumped all that on you literally the first time we met. I…I had a lot going on then, with my migraines. I had just started seeing my neuro like a month before classes started, she ordered the MRI as a just in case thing, but it still made me so freaked. My appointment to go over the results was after my classes that day, I literally couldn’t think about anything else. All I remember about the first day of freshman year is that appointment, getting the clean results. Holy shit, don’t tell me I dropped that on you and left you hanging about whether or not I was fine?”

“When I saw you on Wednesday actually laughing and smiling with Chenle, I was hopeful. I didn’t want to ask you in case it wasn’t good, though, and you were just trying to distract yourself or something. So I caught up to Chenle after class a while later and asked him. After Dr. Son started the Phantasma Phour stuff. He didn’t tell me about your migraines, just said that the results were clean.”

“Ah, Channie… None of that was creepy.” You promised sweetly, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“This is the creepy part…” He mumbled, gaze turning downwards. “Jeno saw me when I was talking to Chenle and invited me to the Nu Chi Halloween party that year, Chenle too. And Chenle brought you, and you got a migraine.”

“I didn’t realize you were there too. Did you see me screaming my head off?”

“No. I was trying to keep Jeno distracted.”

“Jeno?” You echoed, confused.

“Jeno said in the locker room…” Another yawn. He rubbed his eye. “He said he invited Chenle because he knew Chenle was going to bring you, and he wanted to sleep with you. But he didn’t think you would’ve come if he had invited you himself.”

You pursed your lips thoughtfully at this new revelation. “Huh…”

“I was keeping Jeno distracted with beer pong and stuff, but he finally slipped away, I guess at the same time you got your migraine. When he told me the next day that he was giving up on fucking you because you’d punched him in the face and he ‘knew better than to stick his dick in crazy,’ I thought you decked him for coming onto you and just admired you even more.”

“Not quite,” you laughed, remembering the bloody nose he’d nursed all night in the same room that you were nursing your migraine and Chenle sobered up. “But this story does add a whole new layer to my friendship with Jeno… Does Chenle know about this?”

“I don’t think so. Or Jeno would have gotten his nose broken again, right?”

“Probably.”

“Are you mad?”

“What would I be mad about? You having a crush on me? Our mutual friend wanting to fuck me one time three years ago?” You snorted, cupping his cheeks to get him to roll over and look at you again. “Baby, the only person I could possibly be upset with here is myself for not even giving you a second look in that class three years ago. Because then I could’ve had my Sungchannie this whole time.”

“Noooo…” He whined, shaking his head zealously. “I should’ve actually done something instead of just pining like a loserboy.”

“But you’re my loserboy now.”

His eyes widened. “You think I’m a loser?”

“Of course. My prettiest, cutest, sweetest, loveliest—” you punctuated each adjective with a kiss to his nose “—loserboy that I love so much.”

“I love you, baby.”

“I love you too.” You smiled down at him. “Now, I think that’s plenty of tipsy confessions for one night. It’s time for you to sleep, my Sungchannie.”

As you started readjusting to lay down next to him on the mattress, he grabbed you and pulled you into his chest like a teddy bear.

“You didn’t want to, right?” His voice was right under your ear.

“What?”

“Sleep with Jeno?”

You lowered your voice conspiratorially, “I’m going to tell you a secret: I couldn’t tell any of the Nu Chi guys apart for the longest time. Didn’t even know Jeno’s name until I broke his nose. To me, they were all just gross frat guys who probably didn’t know how to wash their dicks.”

“Should’ve kept it that way,” he grumbled, holding you even tighter.

“Oh? You want me to unlearn all of our friends and acquaintances names?” You teased, wrapping one of your arms around him too.

“Can you?” He asked hopefully.

“Not quite how it works, I’m afraid,” you clicked your tongue. At his tipsy whines starting back up again, you hushed him once more, “Shh, it’s okay. I might know all their names, but none of them get to be baby boy.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He agreed, and you could hear the smug smile in his voice.

“You need anything else from your girl? Or will you finally let her sleep?”

“Kiss?”

“Of course.”

Tilting your head up, you pressed your lips to Sungchan’s. He hummed contentedly against your mouth, unhurried in his motions as he met your every move. You sleepily kissed him, entirely unaware of time, but finally pulling back when your lids were getting too heavy to properly open back up. Blindly giving one more kiss to the corner of his mouth—it felt more like the side of his bottom lip, honestly—you settled your head back on his chest.

“There you go, Channie.” You yawned, pushing your face further into him. “Goodnight… I love you.”

“Goodnight, baby,” he was mumbling too, presumably also on the brink of falling asleep. “Love… you…”

vi. whilst i make space for all the parts of me that i do not want, i let them be, as minds twist through the fractured expanse of our being

“Okay, thank you,” you forced a casual nod to your doctor as she entered in a few more things on her computer.

“The ladies up front will schedule everything when you check out,” she offered you a kind smile. “Do you have any more questions for me today, Y/N?”

“No, no, just uh… need to get everything scheduled, you know.”

“Alright, well it was good to see you as always,” she stood up, leading you towards the door of the exam room. “And I’ll see you again soon. Have a good day.”

“You too.”

You went through the motions of checking out and scheduling, adding the next appointments to your phone calendar with the receptionist at the front desk, then shuffled out to the parking lot. Your mind was still reeling as you got into the passenger seat of Sungchan’s car.

“Hey, how’d it go?” He turned in his seat to ask you. It was just one of your normal check-ups with your neurologist today, and with the hockey season over, Sungchan had the time to take you to and from the appointment, promising to take you out for dinner after. You didn’t have much of an appetite anymore.

Your gaze was locked on the dashboard in front of you. Your jaw clenched as you tried to battle back the tears that threatened to well up and just answer him.

“They’re getting worse again. Increase in- in frequency and severity,” you finally choked out. “My neuro wants to get a blood panel and brain MRI done again. She says we probably just need to adjust my meds again but—”

“A brain MRI?” Sungchan echoed in disbelief.

“Make sure there’s nothing in there that’s not supposed to be in there. It’s always clean, but every single time, the what if… it’s scary,” you admitted, your voice getting smaller as the tears finally came, spilling over onto your cheeks and down into your lap.

“Oh… oh baby,” his voice softened as he reached over to take your hand.

“And even if everything, all of that fucking shit is clean. It just means that my stupid fucking meds have stopped working and my stupid fucking body isn’t working like it’s supposed to and I have to do it all over again. Trying out more medications that’ll do God fucking knows what to me until we find the new perfect concoction that keeps me a semi-functioning person. God dammit!” You spat out, slamming your other hand down in a fist against the dash. “Ow, fuck, that hurt. God, fucking stupid…”

Sungchan grabbed both your hands with one of his, keeping them in your lap as he wiped at your tears with his free hand. “Baby, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” you blubbered. “That you got me and that I’m—”

“Stop it,” he cut you off sternly, with the harshest tone he’d ever taken with you. “Don’t you dare start apologizing for this. I wouldn’t let anybody else talk about you like that around me, and you’re not going to either.”

“God, yeah, okay,” you nodded and sniffled. “Thanks, Channie.”

“When is it? The MRI?”

“I-I have it in my calendar somewhere.”

“I’ll go with you,” he promised, cradling your chin in his palm to get you to look at him. “Whenever it is, I’ll go with you. And when you go get the results, okay? Car, waiting room, exam room, wherever you want me, alright? But you won’t be alone.”

You bit your bottom lip, squeezing his hand tight with both of yours. “I’d really like that. Thank you.”

He leaned across the center console to press a kiss to your forehead. “Anything for my girl.”

➠ next | series masterlist | blog masterlist

#sungchan x reader #riize x reader #sungchan imagines #riize imagines #sungchan #sungchan imagine #riize imagine #nct x reader #nct imagine #nct imagines #jung sungchan #i: sungchan #f: 27jsc #s: buzzer beater #writing #text #mine #bias tag #*100 #*200 #*300 #*400

[sushis-wild-imagination]

Battling my head (Dokyeom x reader)

As a migraine girlie, I just want someone to take care of me when I’m going through it, that’s exactly what this is.

Genre: : fluff fluff only fluff

I WANT A dokyeom in my life. Im open to fic requests!

Seventeen fics Masterlist

"Can you spot her?" Dokyeom asks you over the loud music.

You shake your head feeling a little uneasy already. It was a little too loud and you hadn't gotten enough sleep last night.

You were at a party with Dokyeom, it was one of your best friend's birthdays and she decided the club would be the best place to celebrate so her single self could get some guys to take home. You chuckled at her idea when she pitched it to you, but of course went along.

She also mentioned you could bring your boyfriend of 2 years, Dokyeom, to the party because her brother is good friends with Dokyeom and he's going to be there too.

You knew your migraine was going to act up, like you could feel it coming, the lack of sleep and the loud music with the strong stench of alcohol everywhere. It makes you want to escape somewhere safe.

Dokyeom saw your face looking uncomfortable. He put his hands on your ears covering it. He just raised his eyebrows as if asking if you're okay. You gave him a tired smile and nod softly. It was too loud to talk.

You were already fatigued. This migraine already drained the energy out of you. You felt guilty to leave even, because it was your best friend's birthday, you have to be here. There is no excuse, you tell yourself and go around looking for her to hand her her gift. Dokyeom following a few steps behind you holding your free hand.

You finally found her, wearing the dress you had picked out a few days ago, a shimmering blue with her hair and nails done with a birthday girl sash over her body. You find the rest of your girl group with their boyfriends too. Dokyeom spots Wonwoo, the brother and they end up chitchatting about something while you talk to your best friend about the boys she met tonight and also had her her gift.

Talking to her was distracting and it momentary helped you forget about the killer headache you were having. She loved the new studded wrist watch you bought her, since her's had recently stopped working. You thought it was the perfect gift. She puts it on right away.

"Let's go dance" she says excited and pulls you to the middle of the club where you could feel the bass of the music in your chest and head. It did not help the situation at all, but you hated the idea of ditching your friend on her birthday, so you just put up with it.

After a while, you're left alone because she's has gone with some random guy dancing so you find your way back to Dokyeom sitting in one of the booths. You couldn't even stand straight without feeling like you were losing balance. It was getting out of hand. You plop yourself next to your boyfriend and put your head on his shoulder closing your eyes, it only made you more dizzy. The whole room was spinning. You could feel Dokyeom’s hand caressing your cheek while he continues talking to Wonwoo.

Wonwoo soon excuses himself to go find his sister while Dokyeom turns to you.

"Are you feeling okay?" he asks you pecking the side of your head.

You nod cuddling closer. He hands you a bottle of water to drink from incase you were just dehydrated and that intensifies the headache.

"I think we should get back, take a shower and lay down in a quiet dark room, get some sleep" he says to you and you nod at that. There was only so much holding out you could do.

Dokyeom found your best friend and told her you were leaving, she was dejected but she understood how bad your migraines could get.

The ride back was horrible with the motion sickness and the car.

When you got home, he helped you get out of your heels and you went in to take a shower.

"It's okay, I'm standing right outside," he reassures and soothes you anxious self.

Sometimes the anxiety around lightheadedness makes you shiver and shake, like you're going to faint and no one is going to be around to help you. These thoughts really skyrocketed your anxiety. You've had multiple instances of dizzy spells and passing out because of migranes, something you've been battling all your life.

Anything could trigger a migraine attack. It was the worst thing.

You just wanted to wash up quickly before you possibly pass out. Dokyeom knew this fear and kept singing in the room to just indicate he’s here without outright telling you. His voice really soothes you.

You wash up as quickly as possible and bolt out. The headache felt a little better now that you were calmer.

Dokyeom had your pjs ready for you and he went in to take a quick shower.

You change and jump into bed as soon as possible.

A few moments later dokyeom joins you smelling like flowers.

You immediately turn to cuddle his torso while he lays next to you with his head propped up on his elbow.

“I’m sorry we had to leave early because of me” you almost felt guilty because he couldn’t enjoy the party.

“No party will come close to this” his hands brush your hair softly. “Don’t be sorry, its not your fault, I like taking care of you”

“It was too loud”

“It really was, or maybe I’m just getting old” he laughs.

You could feel his laugh through his belly.

The lights were low, with only some moonlight coming into the room through the window. His fingers were fidgeting with yours in the dark. The fidgeting turns into a thumb wrestling match and suddenly he’s whispering thumb wrestling commentary.

“Player (y/n) almost had it, but there he is, Legendary Player Lee Dokyeom, coming back from the cages of defeat, and will he strike, will he attack”

It makes you giggle and he finally lets you win.

“Indeed, a winner of my heart, and a winner of thumb wrestling”

You chuckle at his cheesy line. He’d do anything to get a laugh out of you. He loves the sound of your giggles. Almost like he takes pride in making you laugh.

“Sing for me” you cuddled into him further.

“Anything for you, Player (y/n)” he says pecking your head.

He whispers a beautiful song, only for the two of you. The one thing that worked better than medicine for your headache was dokyeom’s voice.

His voice fought all the battles in your head for you.

“I love you”

The last thing you say before you drift into dreamland.

#lee dokyeom #lee seokmin #dk #seventeen #kpop #idol x reader #dokyeom x reader #dokyeom x y/n #kpop fanfic #lee dokyeom x reader #svt scenarios #svt #carats #idol!reader #svt fics #svt fluff

[lunarw0rks]

Lol you cannot tell me ghost doesnt knock everything off w his big ass head. He constantly in migrane bc he keeps head butting door frames

Mf had to take cover at an abandoned department store but knocked over half the perfume testers and it fell/cracked on him

Dude came outta hiding smelling like miss Dior Versace Gucci Chanel coquette girly. And the smell was stuck on him for MONTHS 💀💀

NOT THE PERFUME OMG

THATS SUCH A FUNNY HEADCANON

AND YOU JUST KNOW PRICE WAS PISSED AT HIM BECAUSE THE STENCH GAVE HIM A MIGRAINE. AND GAZ TOO.

AND THEN JOHNNY NOT LETTING HIM LIVE IT DOWN. EVER.

#simon being clumsy is so fucking funny to me #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost mw2 #mw2 #call of duty #task force 141 #rachel speaks #not writing

[dvrcos]

Ive been bothering everyone I possibly can by dropping asks abt Aaron in their inbox soo it's ur turn now

Any Aaron hcs? Your opinion on skater boy Aaron?

And because I love Kevin too, any Kevin hcs? I feel like people tend to forget that Kevin likes photography too canonically besides exy and history

OMG I JUST SAW THIS THANK YOU FOR ASKING HEHEHEHE

Skater boy Aaron is real and true and canon (to me at least)

He is the poster boy for the early 2000s skater aesthetic

Part of the reason he continues skating in college is because he enjoys the heart attack it gives Kevin

Kevin doesn’t want him getting hurt and jeopardizing the team and his wellbeing

So Aaron makes sure he finds time to skate everyday

Aaron is a lover of pop culture and is just a fucking nerd dude

He loves Lord of the Rings and read Harry Potter as it came out (and also very actively hates JKR in the modern day)

Aaron Minyard is a chronic migraine girly

He’s a med student and athlete who gets very little sleep so his head constantly hurts

And yaknow what he’s a little bitch about it too

He is constantly complaining to Katelyn and using it as an excuse to be an asshole

(I love him so dearly)

I also think he is constantly cold and has terrible blood circulation

His hands and feet are always freezing

Years of drug use and constantly needing to take Advil for his headaches has just shot his cardiovascular system

So he’s constantly cold and doesn’t run a lot because his stamina is shit

He has a raging addiction to caffeine and his vice is RedBulls

His sleep schedule is absolutely wrecked from both Exy and school so he’s rarely ever without a RedBull in hand

I don’t think he cares a lot about his diet but he does try to keep it pretty nutrient packed bc he knows the benefits of it

But he also has a sweet tooth (not as strong as Andrew’s but still strong) and he favors baked goods like cake and banana bread and pastries

His vision is bad and it just keeps getting worse over the years but he doesn’t wear his glasses often

He usually resorts to contacts but has to switch to his glasses late at night or when his head is hurting extra bad

OKAY KEVIN FUCKING DAY

He loves tea

Like has an extensive tea collection and will spend the money to buy teas from around the world

He also has a mug collection (the Foxes start gifting him mugs every holiday when they find out about it)

His favorite mugs are his vintage Trojans mug, a “history is not boring” mug the Foxes gave him when he graduated, and a Hogwarts mug Aaron gave him

(they read the series together :P)

Kevin’s favorite areas of history to study are Ancient Rome and the history of Ireland

He’s fascinated by the Roman Empire and studying Ireland makes him feel more connected to his mother

I think he continues school on the side and eventually gets a doctorate degree and teaches a bit after he retires from Exy

He always tries to sign with teams in or near the cities the other OG Foxes are in because he doesn’t really know how to function without the familiarity of his people

Kevin works a lot on undoing his Raven dietary habits and since he’s surrounded by people who can’t cook he grows a love for frozen food as well as caffeine

I think he takes a few art classes and really enjoys it even though he doesn’t think he’s that great at it

He’s actually not bad at all and makes a lot of really cool pieces

Kevin exclusively wears 5 inch inseam shorts

Anything longer is blasphemous

He has basically zero sense of style and just kind of mimics what the others are wearing

Until Allison forces him to go to the mall with her and they spend hours building him a real wardrobe that is him

Most of his closest still consists of PSU and USC merch though

And truly would this even be me if I didn’t put kevaaron headcanons? No

Kevin is basically a human radiator, especially after practice

And that is a blessing directly from God in Aaron’s eyes

Kevin comes back from night practice and Aaron just clings to him, absorbing all of his heat as they fall asleep

Aaron is a chronic clothes stealer like he just has sticky fingers when it comes to Kevin’s wardrobe

They spend a lot of time together in the library

They’re both in quite intensive and workload heavy majors so they study together a lot

It happened more as an accident tbh like Aaron was heading to the library to study for a midterm

And basically all of PSU’s student body had the same idea so there was no open tables

But low and behold there was Kevin, alone at a table tucked in the back corner, typing away at his laptop

Aaron joins him without asking and it kinda just becomes their thing

Kevin joins Aaron at the library between regular and night practices

They spend most of their weekends there and bring each other caffeinated drinks and snacks

Eventually they’re not even studying half the time, they’re just talking and spending time with each other outside of Exy and the other Foxes curious glances and prying comments

Aaron takes a history class with Kevin but Kevin refuses to take any science class outside of his required credits

He’s not a science person so Aaron doesn’t take it personally

Kevin can never properly wrap his head around how strong Aaron actually is

It just doesn’t compute for him, like how can so much strength be packed into such a small body

But he is most definitely not complaining, especially not when that strength is so clearly but on display or used against him

Kevin is practically drooling anytime he watches Aaron body check a striker twice his size and send them sprawling onto the floor

They become each others partners/marks during practices and it is simultaneously the best and worst thing to ever happen

They’re just excessively flirting while tripping each other and fighting with their racquets

The other Foxes comment on their “weird and disturbing foreplay” every chance they get

#thank you anon for giving me the chance to rant #I love these little idiots #so I hope you enjoyed #the kevaaron demons are loud and I cannot control them #aftg #all for the game #aaron minyard #kevin day #aftg headcanon

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

I want to echo the real star of disabled!verse being Cola request, and ask for a drabble with the real star of assistant!verse, Ace, please 💕

Alfred looked up when you let yourself in through the kitchen door and smiled a little, "Knocking off early or here on an Errand?" he asked.

"Errand," you answer, forcing yourself to smile. You've got a vicious headache and you desperately need the auras to stop. The black spots blooming in front of your vision were distracting and the pain was making you nauseous.

"Well," he said, wiping his hands, brow furrowing as he looked you over, "How can I-" And before he can ask what you've come for, you're out.

Crumpling to the floor in a heap, in a dead faint after wavering for a moment. "Oh dear," he said, moving to put you on your side and whistling softly to Call Ace out of his basket where he was patiently waiting for you to fuss over him. "Down," Alfred said, pointing to the floor behind your back.

Ace whined but lay down, snuffling against your neck and Alfred stroked his head, "Keep her still, huh?"

He stood carefully and grabbed the phone off the counter, waiting. He wasn't sure what had happened but. I you didn't come round on your own, he'd be calling an ambulance. And then Bruce to yell at him for not noticing you weren't well.

But when you stirred, whimpering and confused, Alfred exhales slowly, putting a hand on your shoulder, "Easy," he said, smiling a little when Ace pawed at you insistently. Worrying your coat with his paws. "Gave us a bit of a scare, Girlie," he scolded, "What on Earth-"

"Why am I on the floor?" you ask confused.

"You fainted," he asked, moving a small trash can closer when he noticed you turning a little green as he helped you to sit up. "Did you not eat breakfast or-"

"It's just a migraine," you manage, taking a deep breath, and stroking the massive furry head that flopped into your lap. "It's been a long time since I've passed out."

"How long?" Alfred asked, noting that you seemed to be speaking well and oriented to where you were- so not in any imminent danger. And that was good.

"College, I think," you answer, scritching the spot behind Ace's ear that made his right back foot twitch.

The butler nodded and got to his feet, holding out his hands, "Well, I'm afraid I must insist you sit with me for a while before attending to whatever Errand-"

"Just some files from his study- he said that you would know-"

"Ah yes," Alfred said, "I noticed he'd forgotten them this morning." The butler sighed and helped you to your feet. putting you in a kitchen chair. "I'll fetch those once you've had something to drink. Do you have medicine?"

"In my center console-"

And Alfred nodded, picking up your keys where they'd fallen from your hand and turning to fetch it. "Ace," he ordered, "keep an eye on her for me."

Ace whined, butting his head more insistently against your abdomen, wanting more attention and Alfred chuckled to himself. He didn't doubt that Ace was going to do exactly that.

#Bruce Wayne #Bruce Wayne x reader #assistant!reader #ask answered #minors dni

[bi-buck-coded]

Having a second job is nice, having extra income and a job where i get to actually socialize with my coworkers is nice. Until i have to go in with a migraine and be a Customer Service Girlie for 4.5 hours. And this is after completing 8 hours of my primary job where i had to stare at screens all day with said migraine. Like i dont regret having a second job, i just wish they gave me more hours on the regular bc right now if i call out sick i only get 10 hours this week which is barely anything

#i could rant about the issues theyre having with hours for so long #but like if i wanted i could leave and find a different place that gave me more hours #so really its on me #i just am scared if i quit and go somewhere else there will be worse problems #and what if i dont get along with my coworkers as well at a new place? #or what if they schedule me too much? #idk but when they schedule me 4 hours in a week it just feels like such a waste to have this second job bc i get so little money that week #its so inconsistent too so like i never know how much extra income ill have in a month #anyway this post was supposed to be about how i feel like shit but still have to work until 9pm #and thats going to suck #just eva

[mobiused]

could you show some examples of hyeju's worst outfits? I thought they usually dressed her well but i guess I haven't been paying attention. Also i agree with the gowon puff sleeve thing. I think it suits her princess brand

OK this ended up getting long because of the structurue so under the cut

Stupid fucking bow makes her head look so fucking stupid here

Conceptually this isn't so bad but I hate the shape, bust looks weird, dress is too short, n thats not about modesty it's just completely unflattering for her legs & hips

Who the fucks idea was it to put her in what is essentially little more than a lingerie slip dress and stick some garters on it whilst everyone else bar choerry is in normal cute dresses? Thematically inapproriate and way too short to dance how she wants (watching her fancams this era and seeing her fight with 99% of her outfits was actually migraine inducing). It actually looks quite pretty tbh but I don't like it if it makes her look out of place and also weirdly sexualised in comparison to everybody else

THIS WAS JUST SO FUCKING SHIT LIKE DOTN FU CKING PISS ME OFF she's lucky she's hot because what the fuck. Like literally what the fuck this is so fuckng stupid. How do you fuck up an all-black outfit with red accents like this so badly. Her fringe/hair looks so stupid and doesn't suit her face at all. She's meant to look sharp and fierce and sexy and she just l ooks fucking stupid. Monika had to intervene with scissors because she was literally wearing a lycra t-shirt before this . What the fuck. (Queendom era styling on the whole was pretty good)

Everyone else is wearing sexatron 5000 hot sexy leather/PVC whatever that material is and they gave hyeju an oversized blazer and a hairdo that makes it look like she's 60 in combination with the fucking shit dyejob and jewelry borrowed from maggie thatcher. Whats going on???????? (If you're a longtime follower you'll know that even though I hated and hate this outfit I pondered whether this was Hyeju's personal choice to not wear outfits that she personally found objectifying like the leather club inspired outfits, but then looking at how she was styled for flip that, she(?) seems to have backtracked on that)

Hair is actually cute here to be fair. But this was just a disaster for everyone. If you're gonna be ripping off Rokh's SS21 collection at least do it right cuz what....lmfao

I lol'd I really did.

Ugly ass top...

Actually hold on this one eats. But

... Actually I don't even hate the fringe but what the fuck are these shorts

OH MY GOD DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I FUCKING DESPISE THESE BULLSHIT FLOWERY GIRLY LITTLE FUCKING BLOUSES THEY LOOK SO FUCKING SHIT THEY DONT SUIT HER AT ALL AND YET FOR SOME REASON WHEN THEY WANT TO MAKE HER LOOK *CUTE* AND *NORMAL GIRL* THEYLL DRESS HER LIKE A GRANDMA DRESSING HER 13 YEAR OLD GRANDDAUGHTER AND IS AFRAID TO HAVE PEOPLE LOOKING AT HER OHHH MY GOD IT AGGRIVATES ME SO MUCH LIKE WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU ACTUALLY WEARING

Age inappropriate for a teenage girl, modesty aside those heels and that blouse makes her look dated and weird

This was literally outrageous (hers is the shortest of all of them bar hyunjin whos wearing shorts anyway, and she's 17 here), especially the obviously padded bra, and her discomfort is palpable

I could literally go on. And I'm being quite generous here by not including outfits that aren't my personal taste but otherwise probably considered inoffensive. But really its like when was the last time I've seen an outfit Hyejus been styled in and not gone one of the following 1) Wow this is unflattering 2) Wow she looks stupid 3) Wow she looks uncomfortable/ this impairs her movement 4) Wow she looks like she's going to a different event compared to everyone else

Maybe I'm just especially harsh with her styling because she matters the most to me IDK.

#there are a LOT of outfits I dislike for no other reason than its just not my tastes #which is frustrating but ig as a gnc lesbian who broadly dislikes modern fashion triends outside of like haute couture makes me pretty hard #to please in general. but like #ugh. i really find it so aggravating. shouldn't be this hard to put her in flattering and wholistically appropriate clothes #when styling is your job #and by wholistically appropriate i mean more thematically/job appropriate than modesty which only applies pre 2020 ofc

[jerek]

alright. bonus lore time. i literally never thought anyone was cringe if i ever had a problem w u it was ALWAYS about wrathion.

since fall 2021 ive developed a new talent which is my cortisol randomly spiking and making my stomach too acidic which can and has made me vomit 10 times in a day and put me in ER-level pain and i think it has something to do with the lil polycule of rpers i was with back then.

roster was, iirc (at the time)

26 y/o male / nb

38 y/o female

mid 20s male

mid 20s nb

early 20s female

19 y/o me

18 year old nb

26 year old was the one who made the discord, roleplayed anduin, the rest of us were literally self shippers with ocs. (except me i played sylvanas)

was a SHIT ton of wranduin in there!!! i'm not evil though so i put up with it. i asked once can they please stop putting wrathion porn in there, they were like "thats cool bro i respect your triggers" and put it in a different channel still accessible for the girlies who love to trigger themselves.

so like. heres where the mysterious food poisoning came in. when i say 'dissociative' i may not mean DID as diagnosed by a trained professional after 15-20 tests but like. i couldnt even express to a therapist how shit i felt bc i was not consistently the same type of person between appointments. if you make me come in every week, next week i will not remember why i felt the way i felt last week. i'll vaguely remember what i said, but she's not me anymore lol.

and sometimes it's THAT, the true saint norman experience, sometimes it's possession (thinking other people's thoughts) and sometimes it's dreaming but girl SOMETIMES it manifests as like.

Imagine going up to norman bates and telling him he cares too much about his sick, declining, codependent mom.

Me but when you smack Wrathion I feel it. He's a metaphor for me. I think in his voice. I damn near pray to him ig, being a mormon I can tell you he is the only reason ive ever felt 'the spirit.'

Cringe? Yes!!!!! Out of my control? Yeah 😭

There is no center to my being. i dont identify as anything. i'm not the name my parents gave me, but i am the characters i use to puppet out whatever emotions. Internet sexting for so long has eaten away at my boundaries so much there is no longer any reason for her (who i was born as) to exist or for me to relate to her.

Rping in that group gave me so much dopamine I couldn't sleep, consistently had the feeling that my stomach muscles were splitting down the center, migraines. Literal food poisoning symptoms. It was really fun still!!!!!

And then when the wrathion shit happened like. Whispers of nzoth in the back of my brain started tickling my self defense instincts for no reason. No reason bc I had put up with literally everything including the wrathion shit, the only difference was I personally didn't enjoy wrathion porn.

I knew I was irrational. Not liking a certain type of porn is one thing, I was fighting off the old gods trying not to start some shit.

Prob shoulda communicated! Communicating last time gave me a trigger myself button though. Literally the [triggered] meme.

Eventually you get the feeling that shit is going down the drain whether you like it or not. The rp's stopped, everyone's switched to FF and your laptop can't run it. It's all just kinks, someone posting once or twice a day with "imagine li-li stormstout [redacted]" getting reacted with 😏 emojis.

So I posted screenshots bc I knew the other half of the world, the one with everyone else in it, would feel as alienated as I did. I'm back in 2015 as a 13 y/o dominatrix prude and I want the feeling of 'we know what's wrong' I got from the ER. Literally went to sleep 5 minutes later because I knew I'd be guillotined.

I wake up and I have no idea why I did that. It's been years since I tore off the chunk of me that will do literally anything to be included, those two halves don't communicate anymore.

But shit's fucked now!!

It was always about wrathion. Literally always about my shitass fixation on blizzard's favorite 7 year old to unbutton the shirt on. Girl why

#wrathion

[saleeba]

helloooo i’m another pcos girlie!!

i think the pill as you said is pretty hit or miss bc i’ve tried three different ones and every time it’s been fine for the first 6-8 months and then after that my period just doesn’t stop – last time i was on my period for 35 days whilst abroad in a very hot country (was definitely not fun!)

the pill also turned me into a bitch :( it made my mood so sour all the time and gave me awful migraines but again i know this varies for different people and different pills - i didn’t have any of these symptoms with microgynon but rigevidon was awful :(

but i don’t think there’s any harm in trying as long as you talk to your doctor about it because there’s plenty of options available <3

HIII MY LOVE!! and thank u so much for sending this in & sharing so much valuable info & advice !!!! 💗💗 35 days sounds unbelievably monstrous ur a trooper for getting thru it 😩🤍

this is such a good example of how different pills affect different ppl and i think that’s the biggest battle for ppl with pcos, this trial & error/hit or miss thing when it comes to treatments - it can get so frustrating and demotivating not having an outright solution to it all but once you find yours, the relief is worth it imo !! definitely echoing the advice of consulting ur doctor to find what’s best for you 🫶🏽🫶🏽

#˗ˏˋ ✉️ ˎˊ˗ #anon

[downthepub]

i really wanted to be a sourdough girlie. but it gave me migraines. :/

#the bread turned out great! #i just had a headache all day while it was rising that never went away! #personal

[akakios-aikos]

Diary Entry #003

Tuesday, 11. July 2023, 23:38

Alright, so originally I wanted to wait a bit before I do the next entry, but something just happened seconds ago that has me shaking to the point where I might think I'm going to have a panic attack once I'm done with typing this out.

So to go through everything that has happened, it's probably best I go through everything in the order it happened. So last Entry was on Saturday, Sunday was pretty boring, so there is nothing I really need to add there. I think one nice thing that has happened on Sunday, was that I was out with my siblings and a mutual friend of us getting some Sushi all you can eat in your fave restaurant. During the night from Sunday to Monday, I actually tried a spell to manifest a

Now to Monday, so Tay decided to reach out to me after work (I guess?), asking me about what I have been up to, I told him, that work has been boring and how I got some Oil-burns while cooking on the weekend. He, as expected, didn't ask any more questions about the subject, and instead we were talking about his shit (like always). At some point, he just stopped replying right in the middle of the conversation for like 6 hours???? And then he came back like nothing happened, and we just continued talking. Like, at least tell me what the fuck took you so long.

Well anyway, while he was taking his time with replying I had a discord call with Cil and I KID YOU NOT, I love this woman so much. So I told her about how I feel very alienated with the girlies, especially Iruna and she absolutely understood my worries and told me that I was valid in the way I was feeling which... It felt sooo good having someone respond to my struggles with understanding. She told me that I can very well reach out to Iruna and talk about my fears, and how she is sure they will understand how I have been feeling recently. Especially since Iruna did reach out to me again today.

Then we also talked about the situation with Tay and how I feel like he doesn't really acknowledges my issues and the things that I care for, like my stories and poems. Cil once again was the most amazing listener and told me that it is something I have to clearly communicate with him, because what's the point of putting any more effort into a connection if it's completely one-sided? But how do I even tell him those concerns, I don't want to beg him to treat my properly, I just want him to treat me properly without me having to wish and beg for it. So that's something I will have to put in some more thoughts into.

Well now to today (Tuesday). First of all, I didn't go to work, the constant weather changes gave me the BIGGEST migraine. I stayed at home not really doing anything but sleep till noon, once I was feeling a bit better I helped out my older brother with some work and decided that I want to pick up Fire Emblem Engage, because I am really in the mood for some games again. I am probably going to do that tomorrow. Tay and I continued talking, since his response was at like 1 am I think, so we just kinda picked it up again after I woke up.

So now I have been idling in my bed since then going through social media ordered pizza, doing not really anything, when I suddenly see a response Tay made to some RANDOM FUCKING TWEET that just was talking about the reasons why one could be single, and he decided to fucking respond to that saying that he is better off that why and how he doesn't feel like a relationship right now. So now I am shit scared because I DO still have feelings for him, but do I even have a chance??? What can I do to get him to reciprocate these feelings, i wanna be with him but after everything that happened, THAT IS ALL HIS FAULT BTW, he doesn't wanna be with me? That's why I am so scared off communicated my worries with him since I feel like that might turn him away from me and I need to be as loving and pleasant to him as possible... i dont know what to do

[revirushifaa]

OK, but imagine MC dying of old age while their daughter is still super young and Lucifer doing his best as a single dad for centuries as their daughter grows from the terrible twos into the teenage rebellious streak that definitely didn't come from him (it did).

Haaah, more papa Sushifer is in order! This is already fun, so I'll give up a scenario!

Enjoy!

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Daughter of Pride:

MC is gone. His partner is gone, and now the only thing that was left of them, was their one-year-old daughter, Lucille. While Lucifer was still a little mournful over his mate's loss, he promised to them that he would be the one raising their firstborn, it was a promise that he won't break, he did his best with the raising alone, after all he had experience with raising children.

Lucille was a demon like her father so she aged differently from her human parent so it was only natural that MC died without seeing their daughter grow up, something that torment them even to the last moment of their life. Lucifer didn't wish to remember that sad day. It had to be one of the most saddest days of his long life.

Please, MC, my dearest... stay with me

Lucifer... take good care of my little girl. Tell her that I love her... I love you too, both of you...

With that last sentence and warm smile, MC stopped living. He was so devastated that he turned himself colder around everyone... but his daughter. Lucille was the only living being left from his mate, the one who he had to protect and raise. It wasn't an easy task, normally, MC was who took care of her the major part while he was absent in business with Diavolo.

But he had promised with his heart to MC, that Lucille would be cared for and raised well. Just looking his daughter, it remembered him of MC. While she had his body form and face features, her hair and her eyes were MC's, it was like seeing his beloved in their daughter, which he took as comfort. He would nuzzle Lucille at nights and snuggled her in bed, the baby half demoness had MC's calid smile and laugh, but she had also inherited that hard attitude from Lucifer. It was a mix, of hard and soft.

"You are my pride and joy, Lucille. Never forget that, daughter mine."

What he would always murmur in her small ears as he snuggled her and cradled her. With his daughter with him, he didn't become full isolated to his room, if he had lost both MC and Lucille, then Lucifer wouldn't be sane at all. At least Lucille was safe and sound with him.

"No, Lucille. You cannot have sugar all three meals."

As the little demoness grew up, she was more hard to raise or to try to discipline. She was spoiled, that was true, and sometimes she turned out bratty.

"But I wanna sugar. SUGAR NOW!!"

"Lucille—"

"SUGAR!!!"

Sometimes her temper tantrums, gave Lucifer huge migraines and constant stress. It was when he used his major authorital tone, that he made her to stop acting up. And if that didn't work, then it was taking her privileges and sometime in the corner. He never hit her as a punishment. No. He just couldn't bring himself to do that, the demoness was only three and if he did that, he would be breaking an important promise that he had made to MC. Be fair with my little girl, Lu.

So physical discipline was a no-go with him. There were other ways that worked his way. Like when he grounded her from playing with her toys for three days. She would only study and practice her writing. No dessert as well. He had glared sternly at Beel, warning him to not be lenient when his daughter was grounded.

"That's it, young demoness. No toys or dessert for THREE days."

"But, Daddy-"

"No buts, or else I'll add another day to your grounding."

That was all to shut her savage mouth in protesting. Of course seeing her sob and cry because he was too harsh in speaking to her, always made his heart hurt. He would always tone down his voice and speak more gentler to her, explaining why he did that, and then fix the situation with offering to do a compromise, if she was well-behaved and willing to it.

As she reached into adolescense, that was a huge stress to the poor prideful father. Lucille at 16 was such a pain in the butt. Demanding and rebellious, a huge picky eater and a true brat.

"I will be clear with you, young demoness. If you give me an ounce of attitude, then your D.D.D will be confiscated for a month, you won't go out during that time and will be put on chores duty for until I see an improvement in your behavior. And you will write three thousand times I will not disrespect or disobey my father. Clear?

Lucille would huff at how strict her father had turned himself into. But she hadn't known that it was all her part to have put him that way. Lucifer was fair if she was fair, it was a cycle of giving and giving back. Lucille behaved, Lucifer rewarded her. Lucille misbehaved, then Lucifer punished her.

"Father, when did you turn like an old boring grandpa? I only want to have fun! You can't keep me as your prisoner in this boring house!"

"Lucille, I demand more respect from you. This is your father, speaking to you. And I never said that I would keep you here all the time. But first things first. Do your school work and then you can go out. Do we have a compromise?"

"Fine. We have a compromise, Dad."

Lucifer would smile a bit softly, when the young demoness was reasonable.

"That's my good, little demoness." He would end it with a kiss to the top of her hair, before departing from her and going to do his own work and the demoness would go to do her own thing as promised.

Sometimes the lying habit came to Lucille and because of her, Mammon got in many trouble when it was all her buying the latest of fashion clothes.

"How do you explain this, Mammon?"

"Hey, what have you gotten into you?! I don't buy girly stuff! Maybe you should ask Lucille!"

....

"LUCILLE!!!!"

"What?"

She would come to him with a nonchalant look, as she's wearing highly expensive clothes and from that, is when Lucifer realized that it's all his daughter and not his greedy brother.

"So it was you who spent all of our money to please your nonsense..."

"Nonsense, Dad? I am a demoness in need of good clothes and looks! What if I find some good looking human in the future? They wouldn't like a normie, like how Uncle Levi dubs it!"

Lucifer's poor head throbs with absolute pain and stress. Ugh his daughter, is again causing him to go grey at just the age that he was at currently.

"Apologize to your uncle and then go to your room and write three thousand times I will not lie and blame my uncle into buying items that I don't need. Right now. March."

"But, Dad!"

"No 'but Dad'. Now, Young demoness. Or else, I will make you write it fifteen thousand times. How is it going to be?"

"I'm sorry, Uncle Mammon..."

And after her uncle acknowledged her apology, she went up to her room to do that, with a sad face, she didn't want at all to make her father disappointed today. Lucifer took notice of it, but decided to wait until she was done with the writings to talk about it.

It was several hours but she was done, and her handwriting had gotten better, it was because of the writing punishments that it got better, seeing as this was a very common punishment that her father doled out to her when she was being disobedient or a brat.

"I...I'm done..." she said in a quiet voice.

Lucifer had looked up from the papers that he was signing. He frowned softly, the demoness hadn't realized it but she had a few tears rushing down her cheeks. His firm tone from before had softened to that gentle tone, as he approached her and pulled her into his hold.

"I hope this will be enough to end your lying habit. I do not like seeing you sad, but you know I cannot let you get away with something that you have done wrong. It is okay now. You have learned and there is not reason for me to keep mad."

He had soft-spoken to her, the way that she knew that he wasn't mad or disappointed anymore. But Lucille couldn't help feeling bad either way. She in fact, never liked putting her dad mad or disappointed in her, she let the silent tears trickle down. Lucifer said nothing, his comfort was always silent and he showed it with actions rather than words. He held her in his arms, all the time that she needed.

"I'm sorry I disappointed you, Dad..."

"There's no need to apologize now, this case has been solved. Don't beat yourself too much over it, your uncle had forgiven you, I have forgotten about it. It's all okay, Lulu."

And by calling her by her special nickname that he had for her, she knew all was well. She hugged more but to show him that she actually loved him so deeply. Lucifer already knew that, he loved his daughter with all his life, it didn't matter how much trouble she was, that wouldn't change anything.

He might be cold, stern and everything else that others said of him behind his back, but the love of a father was above everything else. He loved his demoness quite so much, so that was what was important.

"I love you, Dad. And I mean it."

"I love you too, daughter mine, with all my heart."

#obey me imagines #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me lucifer

[theinvisibledreamergirl]

The Grinch Girl

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC (Klaw Craig)

Warning: Nope only fluff content and bits of sadness.

Word count: ~2.3 k

A.N: Hello again folks! Did you miss me? Well this fic came out unexpectedly and wasn’t even planned lol. But I hope you enjoy this and Merry Christmas! And I know you’re impatiently waiting for Part 6 of my OH AU 1 but still is in progress. THIS IS MY FIRST STAND-ALONE FIC EVER OMG AND I’M REALLY NERVOUSSSS.

———————————————————————

Basically from all of the staff of Edenbrook Hospital there was a certain someone who didn't like Christmas as everyone else- Dr. Klaudia Craig. This wasn't something new for everyone because they knew she detested it.

She was occupying herself with lots of different cases in order to escape from the festive moments and the cheering voices of her colleagues ready to decorate the Infamous Christmas Tree.

At least that's what she thought.

She wasn't into the winter holidays or any kind of other holidays. Maybe she was a Grinch but as much as she had information about him it was completely another history- he hated people but not Christmas. Whereas she hated both of them.

Klaw didn't have any particular reason to be angry with anyone but she couldn't bare the fact to be involved in such kind of parties. Lousy and noisy people were always a migraine for her and would drink two strong pills in a day at least saving from that horrible sinusitis.

Her free times would always consist of reading books or scientific researches on internet for new developments in oncology surgery as she was eager to see the latest news. Furthermore she would watch BBC every time when the British Government released new announcements about the future of the country whom she dearly missed it. Maybe for others it was such a granny thing but for her was the best cure.

And as for today she was stepping into the corridors seeing the nurses chirping and decorating the railways and doors in which she let an exasperated sigh while shaking her head.

Why do they like them so much? It's completely nonsense. All of that glitter. Everyone seems so happy but I'm sure this is a façade.

Well clearly from her point of view it was maybe a façade but actually everyone was happy and was enjoying at its fullest. And that's why she hated it.

She never got to celebrate any holidays with her family as they have been always busy in their works and didn't pay too much attention on how this would reflect on their daughter's character in the future. They would always justify their lateness in house because of the "duty". God she thought that word would never get out of her mind.

When one of her patients asked her to do the Gingerbread House together she stared blankly as she had no idea what was this thing and she immediately regretted her lie to the kid.

Oh yeah of course I'll help you but until i finish my shift alright?

The little girl was smart and understood that she wasn't telling the truth and aside from that she could tell that the doctor standing opposite her wasn't even pleased about it and she let a mischievous smirk.

"You don't know what Gingerbread is, don't you?"

The doctor gulped hardly as ever. The patient saw her hesitation and asked sincerely.

"Don't worry I'll ask someone else but can I ask you why don't you know about the Gingerbread?"

"Mary, I think you need to rest now after your long surgery, right?"

"Got it doc."

With that she trailed off furiously as she didn't want to awake again that memory.

She hated herself.

She didn't want to be like this.

Harsh.

Cold demeanor.

Selfish.

And afraid to be happy.

When she went to the elevator she heard Sienna calling from behind.

“Hey Klaw!"

Oh god please don’t tell me she’s going to invite me to that party.

"Hi Sienna, how you've been?"

"Perfect! May I say everything is going to be awesome and I can't wait to celebrate with all of us in our apartment! You'll come too, right?"

God she wanted so bad to celebrate. But her logical answer was always ahead of what heart truly wanted. You can say without fear that she was an introverted ass.

"Uhm actually I won't."

Sienna's smile immediately faltered and shook her head in confusion. "Why?” Before Klaw could explain herself she abruptly said “Look If you're worried about those scumbag surgical residents, don't worry we won't invite them. And also-"

"Sienna it's not about them. It's just..."

"Just what?"

I don't celebrate Christmas Eve and I don’t have any intention to because I just simply hate it.

“It’s about patients Si and we have lot of work to do especially Dr. Ramsey won’t let me to finish the shift that easy so I’m leaving-”

“Not so fast gorgeous." a sing-along voice stopped her. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Oh, Bryce." She put a plastered smile while laughing nervously. As always. "Uhm, well I have to go to a patient now heh."

"Tsk. I don’t believe any single thing what you’re saying girlie.”

She wanted to seem so believable but this time was out of her luck. Before she would protest again he interrupted.

"Come on Klaw. We already know you've been working your ass since five in the morning and you haven't even eaten anything today needless to say- you haven't even wished us for Christmas."

"Oh really?" He nodded "Well- Merry Christmas Bryce!"

He frowned in confusion and was crooking his eyes in suspicion as she sounded differently from usual. Something was wrong and he was about to ask her again when he heard that annoying voice.

"Rookie!" Klaw's eyes widened but in the meantime she thanked him in silence for saving her.

"In my office."

"Yes Dr. Ramsey."

With that she excused herself to Sienna and Bryce who stayed mouth agape and Sienna was finally the one to break the silence.

"So...Plan A and B are ruined right?"

"Yeah" he slid from his pocket the phone in which he called a number. "Jackie." He let a defeated sigh. "Tell the others we need a plan C. That old man Ramsey destroyed everything."

--------------

When the elevator reached the 3rd floor Ethan guided Klaw to his office gently pushing the door for her to enter first. They made an arrangement before she started her residency- to remain professional but her gut feeling told that something not good was about to happen.

What was weird was the fact that the lights of his office weren't turned on but only those of his little Christmas Tree. She rolled her eyes annoyingly.

Great. Now I have to deal with another Christmas enthusiast.

He saw her expression and when she turned as if questioning, he gave her a rueful smile. "Please sit."

She did as he said raising her left eyebrow. "So? What is the reason you called me?"

"Simple. I want to find a treatment for a patient whose brain is not functioning as usual." He said ironically which she didn't get it.

"What are her symptoms?"

Even though it was not an usual question he would ask as every time- she was ready to show her high diagnostics knowledge despite being a surgeon.

"It's a difficult case and a rare one. I'm not sure if you're going to handle it."

"There's nothing I can't handle Dr. Ramsey." She said while raising her head in confidence. "Remember what you said to me in my intern year? When there isn't a path, you make your own."

"Fair well. This girl is about 5 years old and she doesn't celebrate Christmas because she hates it. What do you think we should do?"

"What? I don't-" Then it all clicked.

It was about her.

"You too?" She scoffed in disbelief while standing up "I really can't believe this!"

When she was reaching the door handle a strong grip on her waist held her in place and growled in her left ear that made her shivered. "You're not going anywhere!"

"What happened with being professional Dr. Ramsey huh?"

He shut his eyes and inhaled sharply. "Please. Tell me what's wrong. I know that you're worried about something."

"You don't deserve to know anything!" With that she kicked his crotch with her left knee letting herself free from him. That self-defense instinct she had- it was going to be the death of him one day.

"And you don't tell me what should I do!"

"Is that so Dr. Craig? Remember that I'm your boss."

"Ouch. So scary. What are you going to do then? Pin me to the wall?" She let out a weary chuckle "Remember Ramsey- I'm not going to play hot and cold game again with you because I've had enough! And don't even try to do the victim's face here 'cause you know that it's your fault that we're in this position now!"

She was the most infuriating woman he had ever met in his life and maybe this was the reason why he wanted her so badly. Her gorgeous face etched to his mind every night before sleep. When she was always angry she looked like a goddess to him no matter how and he would bow down just for her. One word or only one action from her and he was her slave.

"What happened Dr. Ramsey? Cat got your tongue?" said in a sing-along voice and when he didn't answer she wanted to use the opportunity to leave but his eyes were trailing her full parted lips.

No. No. No. Don't let him kiss you Klaw. Just don't.

But his actions were faster than she thought and her fear came to life. He kissed her such gently that made her cheeks blush enough to stop arguing. When they parted Ethan set both of his hands to her face trailing her cheekbones and temples saying in a soothing voice.

"Now, will you tell me what is going on with your cold behaviour?"

She nodded forgetting everything in what they agreed on. Maybe she would regret it later but it seemed that she didn't care for now.

---------

"So that's why I hate it. I mean I don't want to hate Christmas. It's just I don't want to leave the impression to the others that I hate holidays. I don't want to look like Grinch but still...Ughh I don't know.” she placed her palms in her temples. “I feel such in shame now like I don't even know what Gingerbread is!"

"Why haven't you searched on the internet before?"

"Well this is the case. I've never shown interest in it. The only thing that I would search were always something about science in general and projects for school. And I've never received Christmas gifts before which makes me well-" the last words she said almost in a whisper. "- not appreciated person."

Ethan could see himself in her somehow. After his mother left he didn't want to celebrate Christmas anymore as that day was one of the worst of his life. But his father Alan insisted that his son should see his future and letting that pain to go by every year celebrating and reminding him to be a strong man just like now. Whereas for Klaw he felt his jaw clenched in frustration when her parents now that they weren’t anymore never celebrated and not even letting her to go at least at her best friend's house.

"Do you think I'm a Grinch Girl, Ethan?"

When she called him in his first name he felt his chest warming as she was slowly becoming more openly to him.

"No." He said without hesitation. "It's clearly that you were raised like this and you should not blame yourself for that. You're not the only one who doesn't celebrate Christmas Eve. There are many people who don't even know what Christmas is so-" he put a strand of her brown hair behind her ear. "No, you're not a Grinch but...A grumpy one may I- agh!" he winced when she pinched his arm then smacked it furiously.

"That hurt."

"You deserved that."

"Seriously? I'm trying to understand you whereas-" she cut him off guard with another kiss but on his cheeks instead.

"Thank you. For always being nice to me."

"Hey, you know I would do everything for you?"

"Yeah, I know. But what am I going to do now?"

"First things first" he stood up from the couch where they were staying "You're going to say to everyone who you meet the magic words: 'Merry Christmas!'"

He chuckled when she let a groan. "And then you're going to pick some gifts in the shop for your friends because this is the value of this holiday- sharing is caring. And about gifts-"

He went to his drawer of his white wooden-metallic desk to reveal an object packed in a rectangular shape with a white strap.

"Wait is that-?"

"Yes it's for you". She stared at him. "Open it."

She took it hesitating at first because this was the first gift ever someone made especially for her and was fidgeting her fingers not knowing where to start because she didn't want to ruin the way how beautifully it was packed.

When she let go of the strap she gasped when there was an old book of Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Grey and there were two milk chocolates Fin Carré which was her favourite flavour and a little card were was written:

I'm sorry for being an asshole.

Merry Christmas Rookie!

E.R

"So...uhm do you like it?" He scratched the back of his neck nervously. " I know you're a bookworm and I remembered that Oscar Wilde was the only Irish author whom you didn't read so I went to the National Library and asked if there was still an old copy of it and luckily it was the last one."

She immediately left the gift in his couch and pressed a lingering kiss on his lips and said in a whisper while tearing up "Merry Christmas Ethan. And I'm sorry too for being grumpy and harsh to you."

"You don't have to apologise to me. Your friends and your patient Mary need to hear this. Okay?"

"Okay. Seni seviyorum. [ I love you ] “

“Uhm what?”

She giggled “I’ll tell you when the year ends.”

“But-”

“A girl has to keep some secrets, right?” said when she opened the door and left contently with it.

For the first time in her life Dr. Klaudia Craig felt a radiation coming through her body.

She was happy and grateful.

P.S: The words ‘seni seviyorum’ come from Turkish language. And no- my MC is not Turkish but British lol. She is a polyglot that’s why.

Perma tag: @starrystarrytrouble | @junggoku | @maurine07 | @nadeen-ahmed11 | @hopelessromantics4life  | @lillylavander20 | @caseyvalentineramsey | @custaroonie |  @miss-smrxtiee  |  @drstellavalentine | @archxxronrookie  |  @binny1985

if anyone else wants to be tagged please let me know! xoxo

#open heart choices #open heart fan fiction #open heart fan fic #ethan ramsey #klaw craig #ethan ramsey x mc #klaw x ethan #my writing

[mattzerella-sticks]

metamorphosis (ao3)

What if, when Jack was born, he stayed a baby?

A retelling of season 13, with a few key differences.

No planned schedule, will update when I finish chapters lol

Prologue - Mary I

THEN

           Mary stared out the cab window at hers and John’s home, at the bare branches of their tree reaching towards the sky and at their lawn mower abandoned underneath it, guts scattered about in disrepair. Her heart stirred, suddenly; Mary’s breath shortening as the vice around her chest tightened. She squeezed the handle, frozen in her seat and reticent to depart the safety of this yellowed rust bucket. Instinct, strangely, kicked in; Mary’s gut rumbled like some emergency siren, begging her to run to safety, run and never look back.

           “Hey, girlie,” a gruff voice startled Mary from her reverie, it belonging to the cabbie behind the wheel, “You leavin’ or what?” He tapped one cigarette-stained finger on the meter, fare ticking ever-upward.

           She chewed the gloss off her lips watching it ascend inch by inch, nearing an even twenty. It was an affordable sixteen dollars when they arrived. The cabbie cleared his throat again. Mary finally tore her eyes from the fare to meet his cloudy grey glare in the rearview mirror. He repeated his question. Mary didn’t have an answer for him, not yet.

           There was the obvious answer. Mary could dig inside her duffle, pay him, and leave without another word. But what kept her in his cab, kept the fare running higher and higher, was this selfish urge she fought against. The urge to tell him ‘no’, to keep driving, to not stop driving until Mary spent every dollar she won from hustling pool the night before.

           And she hated that. She hated him. Mary hated how she ditched a perfectly fine, albeit stolen, Oldsmobile at the edge of town for his cab that reeked of tobacco and stale booze. She absolutely loathed how he spent the entire drive lobbing innuendo her way even though every attempt was met with a polite smile and forced chuckle instead of the end point of her hidden boot-knife. She chafed at the thought of asking him for further help. Most of all, Mary despised how if she gave in, if she breathed life into her desires, this cabbie wouldn’t be any wiser to the huge decision she made. He wouldn’t judge her. He would not care. The burden of leaving, of making that choice, rested entirely on her.

           It felt humiliating.

           “Seriously, blondie, is it just air between those ears or –“?

           “I’m leaving.” She handed over what was owed, not bothering to wait for any change. She hurled herself out of the cab, slamming the door shut in her wake. Mary lingered on the sidewalk, white knuckling her duffle, while the cab drove off. The fumes, toxic and tantalizing, tickled her nose. She stayed firm, refusing to look behind her as it left. Mary knew that, in doing so, her resolve would crumble like Lot’s wife in the breeze.

            She was forged of hardier stuff than her.

           Mary began marching, each step bringing her closer to that other version of herself. Each step, and she shed another layer of who she was to become who she needed to be, what she chose. The guts of her being stripped bare like the lawnmower John left in their yard, a shell of what remained unlocking the door with the key in her pocket.

           There’s no fanfare announcing her return. Their house was silent save for the low hum of the television. Mary followed it, dropping her duffel at the foot of the stairs. She found John, alone, in the living room, asleep with stains on his shirt and a beer can in his hands. The corpses of three other cans were strewn about his feet, their lives given at some earlier time when the game on the screen actually held his interest. Mary grabbed the remote on his thigh, John snuffling slightly. He didn’t wake. He stayed sleeping even when Mary flicked the television off and didn’t stir when she collected the empty cans. Mary carried them into the kitchen, leaving them by the crowded sink, stacked high with dirty pans and plates.

           It was empty last she remembered, three days ago.

           “Dammit John…” Mary reached for the dish soap, pausing midway. Her hand hovered over it briefly. She dropped her hand to her side, skipping the chore for the moment. Mary exited the kitchen, another destination in mind.

           Urged onward by a sudden migraine, caught in its early stages where the pain was annoying but bearable, Mary climbed the stairs for her room. She saw it there, her bed visible because John left the door open. It looked deliciously inviting, Mary imagining the soft blankets wrapped around her shoulders, not John’s, not like they always were, as she sank into unconsciousness strewn across the entire mattress instead of the small sliver that John left for her whenever she finished cleaning their messes in the twilight hours of night. Within seconds, she wouldn’t have to imagine what that might feel like.

           That imagination would be her reality.

           On her journey to the bed, however, Mary heard a tiny sniffle; then a second, followed by a large hitch of breath – all coming from Dean’s room.

           She hesitated, glancing between her room and her son’s. Mary stared at the former, soul yearning for nothing more than rest. But when Dean sobbed, an awful keen that pushed the other option out of her mind, she knew where to go. She sighed, shuffling in the direction of her crying son.

           Mary slowly opened his door, a sliver of light breaking through the depressing darkness blanketing his space. The lights were off, and his curtains were drawn shut. She reached inside to flick on the overhead.

           Dean startled immediately, hiccupping in fright. Wide, bloodshot green eyes met her worn hazel, silent conversation interrupted only when Dean rubbed his fists at them to brush away any lingering tears. “Mommy,” he whimpered, the word bruising her already purpled rib cage, “you’re home…?”

           She smiled, fully entering the room. “Yes, baby, I’m home.” Mary leaned all her weight on the doorknob, shifting on her feet. “Why are you in here all alone?”

           Dean shrugged, looking down at the doll in his hands. He swung its arm back and forth, dragging the silence out. Mary waited. She waited, even though her eyelids began to droop. She waited despite the tiny voice whispering in her ear about how sweet it’d be to lay down. She waited, stayed until he was ready. Dean’s lib wobbled, silently mouthing his thoughts. Soon enough, he set the doll aside. “Dad tol’ me to.”

           “He did?”

           “Said I was bein’… loud.” Another sob racked his small frame, Dean shuddering to contain it. “I coul’… I tried not bein’ loud. But I – but I didn’t see the twisty-thingy twist, and when he open-ed it I, I was there, and it hurt. It hurt!” Tears poured freely from him like the tap water at the motel Mary camped in last night, thick and gross and disgusting. She couldn’t stand tears, or criers.

           Though Mary hid her disgust well, covering an instinctive grimace with a heavy cough. She had to.

           “Oh baby,” Mary cooed, lowering herself onto the floor. Her knees protested, the cut from a stray claw on her left calf flaring from the strain. She swallowed her pain, then beckoned Dean close so she could do the same for him. Dean crawled into her arms, wrapping sticky fingers around her neck while burying his face into her chest. “How long have you been up here?.”

           “A while,” Dean muttered, drooling and crying onto her shirt. She felt his warm breath dampening her shirt, the fabric clinging to her skin. “He said if I were good that he’d lemme out but he… I’ve been quiet s’long, an’ he never came.” Dean gasps, burrowing deeper into her. “Di’ he forget about me?”

           Mary clung tighter to her son, remembering how she found her husband. John, soundly sleeping in his chair, drunk, while their son suffered in his room. She trusted him for one weekend. He promised her it would be fine, that everything would be fine. This wasn’t the first time her faith in him had been misplaced. The disappointment never lessened. Will she learn this time? “I’m sorry, Dean,” she whispered, “I’m so sorry.” Mary pressed a kiss to his crown. “I wish I could have brought you with me.”

           She hadn’t meant that.

           Where she went, Dean couldn’t follow. It was a promise she made after the first hunt, after falling into bad habits again. These trips were hers. Outlets for her aggression. Measured doses to feed her addiction. Reminders of why she left that life, why she chose a picket fence that kept those shadows at bay, why she never wanted her new family to know what she really was.

           Dean shined too brightly for that dark hell. Monsters and ghosts and demons would shatter this innocent child into irreparable pieces, ruining him like it’s ruined every Campbell before him, like it ruined her.

           It was depressing to accept, but denial became maddening. Pretending drained Mary of her strength. Repeating lies, staring down her reflection with mantras that one day she’d not judge herself like an impostor, or an outsider, or a fraud, ate at her soul. Motherhood was not what she imagined. Motherhood did not come naturally to her. Motherhood proved to not be the escape she hoped.

           On those days where she felt low, like nothing she did was right, hunting reminded Mary that she was not just a mother.

           But that’s who Mary was to the little boy in her arms. That’s all she was.

           “Mommy,” Dean whimpered, calmer now that he spilled his tears into Mary’s embrace, “Mommy… can I haf’ food now?”

           “What?”

           “I’m hungry,” he whined, tugging on her hair, “Please! I hadn’t eated since Daddy left for his juice!”

           Mary looked down at Dean, her little boy. She watched his eyes shyly poke through his lashes and past oily, sandy bangs; how his fists curled tighter around her golden waves. Her own hands twitched with the dreadful urge to shove Dean off of her and tell him to make his own food. A scream echoed in her throat, trapped, that she was more than that. She was more than Dean’s mother. She was more than John’s wife. A fighter’s blood pumped through her veins and a soldier’s head sat atop her shoulders and it was a killer’s hands this clueless boy asked to prepare his food.

           While that storm whipped inside of Mary, she hardly let it show. Mary fought against her initial reaction, instead scooping Dean into a loose hold. “I’m kind of hungry, too,” she lied, “dinner sounds wonderful.”

           There was more to Mary than motherhood, except those other pieces of herself grew smaller as motherhood, in its frenzy, consumed them bit by bit. It was determined to be the dominant aspect in her life, the sole expression of Mary’s identity. Motherhood was a monster impossible to slay. Worse, it was a monster of her own making, in her own visage. It was much of her as all the others, conceived at the exact moment Dean was.

           But Mary wondered, if this beast that she became, that worked to destroy everything that came before it, had always lived inside of her, biding its time. That there was never an option of being anything else besides a mother.

           Running seemed pointless, then. Hunting delayed the inevitable.

           She stood in front of the stove, a pot of tomato soup simmering over a low flame. Mary watched the fire burn, hotter and hotter as she spun the dial further towards the highest setting. The tomato soup boiled, bubbles bursting and spewing tomato gunk everywhere. Some landed on her hand. Soup scalded her skin, though could not compare to the inferno tearing apart her being.

           Fire burnt away all that ugly, the darkness Mary was mired in since birth. Blistering heat will make her into the perfect mother. Motherhood was a monster of its own design, unslayable, that demanded suffering and sacrifice.

           I chose this, she mouthed to herself, I did.

NOW

           Mary stumbled out of the memory-dream, slowly at first, then thrown into consciousness by a calloused hand. She yawned, stretching, agitating the knot in her lower back. “Yeah?”

           Bobby offered her his gun, gaze darting to the smoldering embers of their campfire. It didn’t add light, or warmth, but it seemed appropriate when Mary broached the topic of stopping for the night. “Your turn.”

           She nodded, hauling herself off the fallen log she slept against. Bobby dropped in response, taking her station. “I’ll wake you when it’s time to head out. Sweet dreams.”

           “Unlikely.” He twisted, rolling away from her and onto his side. Mary shouldered the rifle, looking from him to the others around the fire.

           Crowley, in his dirty, wrecked suit, sullenly poked the kindling with a knife Bobby must have given him. He hadn’t moved since Mary closed her eyes; however, he appeared more disgruntled than she remembered. An agonized expression carved into his soot-covered face. She might hazard a guess on what caused it, attention flitting from him to the last member of their party.

           Lucifer studied Mary from his own perch. She didn’t know how long he watched, her skin prickling with that feeling of a thousand stares tracking her every move since she crossed over into this other dimension, the apocalypse world. He raised his hands, shackled by a pair of handcuffs that Mary smuggled in with her. He winked, then blows her a kiss.

           Mary spun on her heel, advancing to an outcropping perfect for scouting and a good distance away from the devil’s cold, calculating glare. Her grip on Bobby’s gun tightened. She thought of her boys, of Dean and Sam. How gutted they must be because of her decision, of her sacrifice.

           If only they knew she had no choice. Motherhood demanded it, craved such violence. It was the only aspect of that beast she understood.

#supernatural #spn #spn13 #mary winchester #12x22 #dean winchester #john winchester #the winchesters prequel #spn fanfic #destiel #deancas #destiel fanfic #baby dean winchester #mary winchester character study