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bluehwale · 1 year

Note

I loved that unconventional meeting post could you maybe do a post where they realize that after meeting you for the first time that they might have a crush on you ?

ateez realizing they have a crush on you!

part 2 to unconventional first encounters with ateez (please read this first!)

pairing. ateez x reader (specifically f! reader for seonghwa & jongho)

genre. fluff, humor, teeny tiny angst if you squint

warning(s). injuries, drinking, mint choco ice cream slander, some of the endings are half-assed im sorry

word count. 8.1k oopsies

note. tysm for sending in this request!! and i'm so sorry it took so long to get to you </3 im an ungifted burnout kid so i write and think at a snail's pace lmao bUT i hope u enjoy this one :-D (feedbacks and reblogs are greatly appreciated! ily all muah)

masterlist

kim hongjoong

here's the thing about hongjoong

he can be really cool with his skateboard and his obscure music taste and whatnot

but

he can also be a little bit out of tune with his feelings (this is a certified testimony from his self-proclaimed best friend, wooyoung)

it's obvious from how he has heart eyes for you but wouldn't make a move

"so when are you taking yn out on a date?"

hongjoong's skateboard halts in an abrupt stop after he suddenly plants a foot on the concrete to take a look at wooyoung as if he's grown two heads. "when am i what??"

and wooyoung’s just kinda staring him down like man, you can't be serious rn,,,,,

everyone and their mothers in this skatepark probably knows that hongjoong is basically head over heels for you because

it's just that obvious!!!!

and wooyoung has to resist from pulling out all of his hair in frustration because the man in question is eyeing him as if he’s the weird one

it all started after your Incident™ (you falling on your ass and having hongjoong help you)

you started to frequent the skatepark with your best friend mingi, and hongjoong even mustered up enough courage to ask you for your number one day

and now you both text each other every day >:-D

he even got you your own skateboard

and he also taught you how to skate hehe

he's so whipped

"hongjoong!"

the boy immediately turns to the direction of your voice (he can recognize it even while asleep) and he sees you waving excitedly at him beside an unfamiliar boy with pink hair

unbeknownst to himself, hongjoong's face lights up at the sight of you and he quickly pushes his foot off the ground to skate towards you

"yn!" he hops off his board and pulls you into a hug, inhaling the sweet scent of your hair that makes him feel all warm and fuzzy before involuntarily pulling away to look at the boy with an all black get up beside you. “who’s this?”

“oh! this is seonghwa!” the boy with pink hair nods at hongjoong and gives him a friendly wave in greeting. “he’s mingi’s cousin. he’s visiting for a little while.”

“oh hello, cool skateboard!” hongjoong greets in return, gesturing to the pink skateboard by the boy's feet that contrasts his dark outfit and quiet personality, “i’m hongjoong! i hope we can be good friends!”

maybe not

hongjoong doesn’t know the reason why, but he feels this really uncomfortable sinking feeling in his chest whenever he sees you together with seonghwa

despite his pink hair, the boy looks very intimidating and it seems like he doesn’t talk to anyone except you

and whenever he’s with you, there’s a happy grin permanently etched on his face and you both just look so happy together—

“they probably like each other.”

hongjoong snaps his head to glare at wooyoung who’s munching on a pack of strawberry pocky sticks as he watches you and seonghwa before innocently looking back at hongjoong with a shrug, “what? i’m just saying.”

and hongjoong starts sulking because you know what,, wooyoung might be right :-(

(you, wooyoung, seonghwa, and mingi actually devised a plan to act upon your crush on hongjoong) ((and wooyoung's role is the catalyst to set the plan in motion))

and you know what,,,, maybe hongjoong does have a crush on you. yeah, but just a little bit—

“oof!” wooyoung winces when he sees you land a particularly harsh fall from your skateboard that leaves you lying face first on the ground, and he scrambles to shove the remaining pocky sticks in his mouth before thrusting hongjoong’s first aid kit towards the shell-shocked owner. “dude, go! this is your chance!”

hongjoong was just zipping up his first aid kit after grabbing his can of antiseptic spray and band aids and was ready to run to you until he sees seonghwa already tending to your wounds as he sits beside you

:-( he’s a second too late

(it looks like you two are talking about something or someone as both of your eyes discreetly flicker to hongjoong (who’s too upset to notice))

what he diD notice, however, is the pack of band aids in seonghwa’s hands

and he kinda has to crouch and put his hands on his knees so that his squinted eyes can see better

are thoSE

ARE THOSE BLACK STAR WARS BAND AIDS???

he thought cute graphic band aids were his– and only his– thing !!!!

dang it, and they look super cool too !! :-(

his own pack of pink disney princesses band aids fall to the ground as he dejectedly walks back to where wooyoung is and he slumps to the ground to place back his first aid stuff back inside the kit

looks like he won’t be needing them anymore :-(

but he still finds himself heading to where you are, and he can’t help it when he worriedly takes in your scraped elbows and knees that are covered by the black band aids. “are you okay?”

“yeah, i’m good,” you say, and hongjoong’s too distracted to notice you glancing at seonghwa who gives you an encouraging nod. you nervously twiddle your thumbs, “uhH, hongjoong, uhm. listen, do you– i MEAN, would you want to maybe grab some milkshake with me sometimes?”

“oh sure! who else is gonna be there?”

…………..

(on the other side of the park, wooyoung rips out the headpiece that taps into seonghwa’s hidden microphone and almost bashes his binoculars in frustration)

just then, hongjoong feels shivers run down his spine as he feels a pair of dark eyes glaring daggers into his back and he can feel the devil on his shoulder whisper harshly into his ear, “they’re asking you out on a date, idiot.”

(spoiler alert: it’s seonghwa)

“i was thinking maybe it could just be the two of us? you know? aHa but it’s totally fine if you don’t want to—!”

“no nO, of course !!! i’d love to!!!” hongjoong exclaims, shooting up from the ground from sheer excitement at the thought of getting milkshake with you

this is the best day of his life

“great, it’s a date then :-D OH SHIT—”

(another spoiler alert: hongjoong fainted)

park seonghwa

seonghwa can definitely see himself marrying you

but not during moments like this

"shh, don't move."

seonghwa lets out a startled noise when he's suddenly awakened by a weight on him, and he almost screams his head off until his bleary eyes slowly open to see your figure straddling his torso with what seems to be an ice cream stick (?) held in your hand while you inch closer to his face

oh! it's just you! :-D (he thought it'd be his sleep paralysis demon)

it had been your idea to buy a house and live together after he nervously got on one knee on your fifth date; which seems all too soon but it appeases both of your parents enough for them to shut up on the marriage talk, much to your and seonghwa’s relief

and after six months of living together, he's proud to declare that you're his best friend or more specifically, his soulmate :-D

which is why you both are comfortable enough to do oddly domestic things together

"baby," he rasps, voice still thick with sleep, before placing his hands on your hips to circle the skin over your nightgown with his thumbs. he lets slip an amused chuckle when he sees your furrowed brows as he holds you off from coming near him. "what are you trying to do, hm?"

"i'm waxing your brows."

seonghwa's eyes almost gouged out of their sockets

"you're what???" he snaps his head to look at the clock at the far end of the wall, all the while trying to push you off him. "why are you trying to wax my brows at… 2 in the morning??!!!!"

"no, because—" you breathlessly giggle at the panic on his face, struggling to get his grip off your wrists. "you'll thank me for this!!! trust me!"

seonghwa, mortified at the thought of you shaping his brows with only a single ambient light aiding your sight in the dark bedroom, thrashes his legs under you like a petulant child. "i'll have you know that my eyebrows get compliments all the time >:-( !!! now get off me !!"

"huh. they must be lying because you kinda look like the red angry bird, dude :-/"

∑(O_O;) !!!!

the image of the cartoon character pops up in his head; the red bird with thick furrowed brows comically pelting towards a wall of green pigs, stupefying his thoughts

his movements falter

"do- do i really.... look like an angry bird?"

"a cute angry bird," you reassure him, gently running your fingers through his hair when you see him pout after his grip on you loosen and his arms fall limply to his sides on the bed. "now, hold still okay? i'm gonna make you look super pretty!"

you dip the wooden stick into the pot of melted wax in the still plugged-in wax heater sitting on the nightstand, prepping the pink wax around the stick before leaning closer to seonghwa's face

"it's pink?" he softly asks, referring to the wax that he's only just now paying attention to, and you nod in reply

"of course! :-D it's your favorite color."

you miss the endearing blush overtaking his cheeks as you lightly slather the wax on his skin before moving to take a muslin wax strip from the pack beside you

seonghwa's hands are back on your hips (this time for his own comfort) as his wide doe eyes nervously peer up at you who's sticking the strip onto the slowly hardening wax on his skin, ready to pull

"w-will it hurt?"

"nah, you won't even feel a single thing. no need to worry :-D"

rip!

"yAAAAAOOOOOOOOwwWWwWCCcHCHHHHHCH !!!!!!! THAT HURTS !!!!!"

his head twists side to side dramatically and you have to prop your hands on his chest to regain balance on his shaking body and your own from laughing

"you said it wouldn't hurt!" he exclaims with an exaggerated pout, rubbing at the sore skin and his eyebrows furrow when you wouldn't stop laughing. "this is serious! you're hurting your future husband!"

"shut up," you playfully roll your eyes, the smile that seonghwa adores lighting up your face. "don't have to remind me that i'm stuck with your ass forever."

he grumbles, pulling the blanket to cover half of his face and hide the growing smile threatening to take over his face. "i'm calling off our engagement."

you dip the stick back in the melted wax as you hum, "you love me too much to do that."

"that's true."

this time, your cheeks grow hot as you attempt to recover from almost losing your grip on the stick, his statement having caught you off guard. he smirks at your reaction and you playfully swat his arm, earning a small ow! as you sarcastically quip, "how romantic."

you return to applying the wax on the areas of his brows that needs cleanup after your fingers forcefully drag the upturned corners of his lips downwards

"you know... i figured i'll just marry the first person my parents set me up with," he breathes, a soft smile lingering on his lips at your focused expression. "but if it hadn't been you, i'd go through– hm– i’d willingly go through 219 horrible ! horrible ! dates just so i could be with you."

"oh please," you snort, raising an eyebrow at his statement. "you'd probably end up with someone else if you went on 219 dates."

"you're right.... who could ever resist this scrumptious, absolutely handsome face–"

"i'm gonna make sure the next strip hurts twice as much :-)"

"yN ahaha PLEASE DON'T ahahah I WAS JUST JOKING—"

jeong yunho

"tonight is your first mission."

wooyoung twirls the pointing stick in his hand before slapping it against his open palm, calmly sauntering across the leeway in front of the big whiteboard in the coworking space he rented. "today's topic will cover everything you need to know, so i need you to listen very closely."

amidst the numerous empty chairs behind the large meeting table sits an eager boy with soft brown hair, his wide eyes taking in each and every word on the board while his right hand grips a pen— ready to take notes on the very important lecture wooyoung's presenting today

"but first, a pop quiz!" wooyoung suddenly smacks his pointing stick against the board, smudging the writing that reads dealing with drunk yn 101 written in pink dry erase marker and effectively startling the poor boy from the loud noise

"a- a pop quiz?" baffled, yunho feels the grip on his high-quality japanese brand pen slip. he scrambles over the table littered with his best stationery to prepare a crisp spiderman themed loose leaf paper, "but-but i haven't even learned anything yet!"

"hush, this is to test out your prior knowledge. now, i'll begin with a case study."

jeong yunho, a widely-known overachiever, strives to be the best; especially when it comes to things for you– which is why he currently remains unblinking out of sheer focus on wanting to get his answers right

he has to get it right!!!

"you're both in a cab to go home when suddenly," wooyoung aggressively taps on the stickman drawing that poorly resembles you on the board, "drunk yn sees a claw machine on the side of the road and wants you to win a stuffed animal for them. what would you do?"

what would i do? yunho can feel the sweat beading on his forehead as he desperately racks his brain for an answer that would please the red haired boy who has an eyebrow raised and his hands on his hips

think, jeong yunho! think!

"i would... politely ask for the taxi man to stop and accompany yn to the claw machine—"

"WRONG. ddaeng !!!! man, how are you so down bad– sigh,,,,, dude," wooyoung turns to lean his forehead against the whiteboard and sighs before pulling out his wallet and moves to step out of the room. "i'm gonna extend another hour for this meeting room, brb."

turns out, nothing, not even wooyoung's 4 hour lecture, could ever prepare yunho for havoc personified

a.k.a. drunk you after a night of celebrating the end of your midterms

"noooo!!! oof-" you stumble against your dresser as you try to run away from the wide-eyed boy standing dumbfoundedly in the middle of your bedroom, your bottle of cleansing oil tightly gripped in one of his hand and your cleanser in the other

yunho rapidly shakes his head like a cartoon character to get his muddled brain back on earth when you ungracefully fall onto your carpeted floor and make no move to get up. he moves closer to gently pull you off the floor as he sighs, "you'll regret not removing your makeup when you wake up tomorrow."

"no !!!" you lift your head up at his words, your pleading eyes look close to tears and yunho panics at the sight. "i don't wanna! my eye makeup looks so pretty today!! i don't want it gone :-("

yunho had to refrain from grabbing one of your pillows and stuffing it in his mouth to muffle the scream that almost slipped out at your cuteness

he also almost screamed fuck it! and hop on the bed to cuddle you to sleep right then and there but he remembers that wooyoung would probably be disappointed in him and he also doesn't want you to be uncomfortable from the smudged makeup the next morning :-(

so he stands his ground and tries to think of something that would get your makeup off while still making you happy

"how about we take some pictures?"

and that's how you both end up having a full blown out photoshoot in your bedroom, with yunho lying down on the floor at a funny angle to take pictures of you posing on the bed with your phone while his own phone rests between his armpits (... don’t ask) to shine its flashlight for extra lighting

he can't help his own chuckles from escaping his mouth as he hears your giggles, his chest warming at the sound

after an estimate of 241 pictures taken, you're finally satisfied and allows him to help take your makeup off

"am i doing this right?" yunho nervously asks, gently rubbing the cleansing oil into your skin that slowly blends with your makeup as you dazedly nod, prompting him to take a hold of your chin to minimize your movement and causing you to giggle

"why are you laughing?" he smiles, watching your eyes crinkle as you continue to giggle softly

"i don't know. i just really really reeeeallly like you."

he knows you're drunk and it might just be a mindless statement and yet still, he can't help but freeze as he feels his heart skip a beat

he stops massaging the oil on your face

you like him you like him you like him you like him you like him you like him you like him—!

“uh,, actually that’s something i’ve been meaning to tell you. i- i like you too—“

“yEah yeah, i know!” yunho feels your hand blindly slap all over his face until you finally muffle his mouth, earning a glare from the boy. “you can tell me that tomorrow. noW get back to cLeansing!!”

yunho huffs and playfully rolls his eyes at you, trying to stop himself from grinning ear to ear while inching you closer to the sink so he can rinse off the oil, “aye aye ma’am.”

“noW uhguh–” you sputter out some water that got into your mouth, earning an oops from yunho, “you have to double cleanse with tHat cleanser,” you point at the tube of cleanser on your sink, “for at least 60 seconds.”

and when he finally lathers the face wash on your skin, he actually starts counting, “one, two, three, four, five, six—”

he'd do anything for you

kang yeosang

there are two things yeosang absolutely hates in this world

number one: your job

“i have to get to work, yeo,” you chuckle, “you gotta let me go.”

the android in question is glued to your arm, refusing to let you out the door by clinging to your arm and snuggling his face into your shoulder in an attempt of convincing you to stay

“You always leave,” the blonde pouts, his eyes glistening at the thought of always being left alone from every weekday morning to wait for you to come back at night. “Why must you go to work? Can’t you just stay here?”

sometimes, you forget that your android is supposed to be a boyfriend android – which is probably why he craves your company all the time

ok you feel a bit guilty now :-(

but you’re gonna have to work because !!! unfortunately, you need money to survive !!!!

“well, unfortunately–” you struggle to untangle yourself from his grip as you try to put on your shoes, “i have to work to get money so that i can buy food to live and pay for my electricity bills that keeps your battery charged.”

he grumbles and lets out a small yelp when you successfully unlatched yourself from him, “That’s so unfair!”

you shrug as your fingers grasp the doorknob to swing your apartment door open, “mhm, it’s called capitalism. see you tonight!”

you come home from work only to find yeosang missing

just as you were about to have your second mental breakdown, you spot a lilac post it stuck to your fridge that reads I’ll be out late. Dinner’s in the fridge. :-) in perfectly aligned and neat handwriting with proper punctuation– it’s definitely yeosang

but where could he have gone to???? you don’t even know if he knows his way around the city !! omg what if he’s lost and can’t find his way back home–

you hear the sound of your front door slamming shut

“Honey, I’m home!”

you immediately rush to your entrance door, ready to reprimand him for going out until so late at night, only to pause when you see yeosang dressed in a… bright pink polo shirt… with a blue apron that covers his front… and a matching blue cap that sits atop his mop of golden hair and wait a minute is that the baskin robbins logo???

“I got a job,” he grins at you, proudly tapping on the circular logo with the initials BR that rests smack dab right above the pocket of his blue apron. “They pay me to scoop ice cream into cups for tiny humans all day! Now you won’t have to work anymore!”

he’s so proud of himself :-D

this way, you won’t be as tired and he also gets to hangout with you all day long at home !! hehe

“you know… if you have a job, that means you’re gonna have to go work everyday,,, so,, you can’t really be with me either way :-/”

his face crumples at the realization

“Do you know the number of the Baskin Robbins down the street? I’ll have to tell them that I’m quitting.”

another thing yeosang hates the most in the world is: you going on dates

“strawberry for golden boy. target located and is currently approaching the table. do you copy? over.”

yeosang can’t really remember why he agreed on showing up with a fake mustache plastered above his lips and a black fedora hiding his blonde hair in the restaurant where you are to meet the guy you’ve been talking to on tinder for days

but anything to make you happy, he guess

sitting in a few tables away from yours, yeosang nonchalantly stirs the spoon in his overpriced cup of hot chocolate as he brings the dollar store walkie talkie upon his lips, “Are the codenames really necessary?”

“…”

he sighs, “Over.”

“of course they are! we don’t want our identities compromised! wait shit he’s getting closer now, i’ll talk to you later. over and out.”

yeosang squints at the guy sitting in front of you, scanning his admittedly handsome face to quickly run a background check on him

.... for safety purposes, of course

choi jongho. born in seoul. went to seoul national university. graduated magna cum laude. is currently pursuing his masters. non-existent criminal record. does environmental volunteer work on a monthly basis. can also ?? break an apple with his bare hands ??

yeosang gulps

this guy is basically perfect

his eyes flits back to you, the sight of you laughing at something jongho said making his stomach churn

and his eyebrows furrow because ?? he’s an android ?? he doesn’t even have an actual stomach so how is he even experiencing all of these overwhelming emotions— oh.

he’s jealous

“—and did you see the way he smiled at me?” you gush excitedly all the way back home, making sure your skips are on par with yeosang’s brisk walk. “he’s adorable! we already planned second date for next week and i’m so excited—”

“52 percent.”

you pause at your tracks, turning to look at yeosang who abruptly stopped walking. “huh? what was that?”

“You’re 52% compatible with Choi Jongho.”

“oh ! i guess that’s not too shabby. although, i thought it’d be a lot higher,” you bring a finger to your chin, deep in thought

“...You’re 96% compatible with me.”

THERE he finally said it

his electric motor is probably overheating from how flustered he is but, according to his system, it’s advised to confess to the person you like instead of holding back your feelings (source: wikihow)

so, he’s doing just that

it’s a good thing that he doesn’t have sweat glands because he’s pretty sure this street would’ve been flooded by now from how nervous he is as he asks, “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

you stood in front of him with your eyes comically widened, and based on your silence, he can kinda guess what’s coming next

aha, looks like he's gonna have to shut down for the next 168 hours!

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, you can forget it. I just wanted to let you know—“ “sure” “—that I like you– ...I’m sorry, what?”

you chuckle at his shocked expression, “i said yes, yeosang. i’ve actually been waiting for you to ask me that.”

(you ended up having to bring yeosang in for maintenance and pay a $150 fee because yeosang literally short circuited at your answer)

choi san

san finds it kinda hilarious how you’ve become his best friend, seeing as you seem to be the complete opposite of him

“what do you mean you hate mint choco??” san gawks, both of his palms lying flat against the glass encasing the freezer lined with tubs of various ice cream flavors as he turns to you with an incredulous look. “how could you even say that?!!!!!”

unbeknownst to san, the blonde baskin robbins employee behind the cashier register scowls at him, annoyed that he’s going to have to clean the fingerprint marks left on the glass

you snort, “everyone knows that cookie dough is superior,” you stick your tongue out at him, eliciting a dramatic gasp from the dark haired boy, “mint chocolate tastes like eating toothpaste with chocolate chips anyway. big yuck.”

“that’s ridiculous!” san, the official defender of the controversial green ice cream, exclaims. “how are you even comparing an oral hygienic product to food?? that’s not fair!! they don’t even taste remotely alike !!!”

“mhm, whatever helps you sleep at night, sannie,” you yawn, purposely flapping a hand over your open mouth to annoy him and you giggle once he starts to pout

“Excuse me," the inhumanely gorgeous cashier calls, surprising both you and san out of the little bubble that seems to form whenever the two of you are together, "are you ready to order? You’re holding up the line.” the blonde says, a grim look on his face

you smile apologetically at the employee who has a blue circular sticker on his uniform that reads new hire and you move to tell him the ice cream you want

while waiting for the employee to scoop your ice cream into a cup, you grimace when you look behind you to see a long line of teary-eyed kids with their glaring parents, probably because it's taking too long to get their ice cream

oopsies

you and san immediately booked out of there after he was done paying

“as i was saying,” san pops in a spoonful of his ice cream before continuing, “mint choco doesn’t taste like toothpaste,” you open your mouth, ready to object, but san took this chance to shovel a spoon of the dessert into your mouth, making you sputter in disgust of the taste and effectively shutting you up, “it’s toothpaste that taste like mint chocolate.”

you pause your steps before turning to look at him in disbelief, “are you even hearing yourself right now?”

he said what he said okay!! and he’ll stand by it ┐( ˘ ､ ˘ )┌

“sometimes…. i wonder what goes on in your brain… because dude, that does nOt make any sense at all.”

ok no, you know what doesn’t make sense?

it doesn’t make sense how san seems to think of you 24/7

when he strolls around the park and sees a golden retriever quietly mingling? that’s you.

the smell of cinnamon and freshly brewed coffee when he steps into his university cafe? he loves it because he thinks it smells exactly like you.

someone’s music leaking through their headphones in the hallways? oh wait, you two blasted this song in his car once.

grocery shopping alone? he better grab some of those birthday cake flavored oreos for you even though he hates them because he thinks they’re too sweet.

it’s just what friends do, right?

“what are we watching tonight?”

ever since you two became friends, it’s become a tradition to hold a weekly movie night at your place

and without fail, san always uses this time to try and convert you to become a mint choco ice cream lover

this would be his 12th attempt

“can we watch inside out?” you say, already munching on your microwave popcorn as you lounge next to him on the loveseat in your living room. “i feel like crying today.”

san almost jumps out of the couch to do his little dance

because you know what they say,,,,,,,,,

when you’re sad, eat ice cream!

and he’s gonna make sure you eat some ice cream, alright!! :-D

specifically, his favorite ice cream flavor that he's got in your freezer :-D

so, in the middle of the movie, right after bing bong tragically disappears into the abyss (san still sheds a tear despite this being his twentieth time watching the film) and he hears your tell-tale sniffles, he dashes off to your fridge and grabs the pint of ice cream he brought for tonight along with two spoons before returning back to stand in front of the tv screen

“fear not!” san announces, holding the pint of ice cream above his head while the other hand that is gripping the spoons is placed on his hip. “i have just the right thing to make you feel better!”

he excitedly pries the lid of the pint open and you groan as you wipe the tears under your eyes, “san, i’m really not in the mood to have mint choco ice cream shoved into my throat today—”

you’re cut off by san almost shooting through your apartment roof as he blankly stares inside the pint, “hUH?”

he furrows his brows when instead of the mint green ice cream, he’s greeted by the thick consistency of creamy soft brown ice cream with chocolate chips

it can’t be

why did he get your favorite ice cream flavor instead of his own?????

he hates cookie dough ice cream, and he’s a hundred percent sure he got a pint of mint choco chip ice cream— wait a minute,

“woah, they’re really everywhere,” san mutters to himself while looking at the shelves as he pushes the grocery store cart, “yn would love this!”

“love what?” his roommate, mingi, pops up, dropping a pack of a party sized barbeque chips into the cart

“yn would love this grocery store,” he says, referring to the newly opened grocery store they're in as he hums, “there's every product that’s endorsed by their favorite k-pop group in here. i’d have to take them here sometime.”

“at this point just date yn already.”

san glares at his friend, blindly reaching for what he thinks is a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream with the thought of you stuck in his head, as always, “i don’t even talk about them that often !!!”

“sure you don’t.”

“is that…. cookie dough?”

“yeah, i guess— oof!” he falls to the ground when you literally jump on him

“WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY BEST FRIEND?!!!”

after san’s reassured you that he’s still him and not some anti-mint choco san clone, you happily eat up the pint of cookie dough ice cream throughout the rest of the movie while san tries to reflect on the new found revelation that he has a crush on you

now, whenever he looks at you, everything seems to fade away and cartoonish pink flowers would appear around you and start blooming (he also hears a soft tune that goes lalalala~ in the background)

oh, and he also thinks he’d stop eating mint chocolate chip ice cream just to appease you

his friends are right, he is a simp

song mingi

long story short… you decided to move into mingi’s 2 bedroom apartment to escape from your insufferable roommate !! :-D

it had been the boy’s idea because you two meet each other literally every single day and so he thought hey, living together doesn’t sound so bad !!! you should just move in with me!! i have a spare bedroom that’s been empty for a while !!

and so you immediately packed your things, left your roommate gaping when she saw her previous one night stand awkwardly waving at her as he helped you load your things to his car, and never looked back

now you’re both currently skipping down the street en route to the local farmer’s market because mingi swears that they have cheaper and fresher produce compared to any grocery store out there

you both stop at the first stall you see

“dude, check it out :O” you point at one of the corns on display, “that one totally looks like nanami :O”

he tilts his head as he tries his best to discern any similarities between the crop and your favorite jujutsu kaisen character………. only to come up with nothing

“hm. i don’t see it.”

“no, no!” you jump up and down, hands flailing everywhere as you try to gesture out corn nanami’s features. “you see! the corn hair is, well, obviously his hair, and the green jacket kinda looks like his suit don’t you think? and oh–”

to any nearing passerby, it seems like you two are a pair of excited newlyweds who were highschool sweethearts as mingi gazes at you fondly as you continue to ramble on about the corn-nanami doppelganger

which sounds totally stupid, but he doesn't mind at all

having been too entranced by whatever it was you were saying, mingi only snaps out of his fixation on you when he realized you caught on to his staring

he clears his suddenly dry throat and his eyes flick to anywhere except you. “ehm, e–EHm yeah right,, i guess he kinda looks like, uh, that corn.”

you playfully bump your side into his arm as you exclaim an “I KNOW RIGHT” and you accidentally start a bump fight when mingi starts practically shoving you back (he sometimes forget just how big he is) and you’re both just giggling at each other like stupid kids until—

“what a good-looking couple! i’ll give you two a discount! :-D”

mingi feels you freeze up against him and shake your head at lightning speed, “oh, we’re not… we’re not a—“

“how much? :-D” he interrupts, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer as he grins at the stall owner who starts cooing

meanwhile, you resist the tempting act of whacking him with your reusable tote bag

and you may be trying to tone down the heat on your cheeks bUT that’s besides the point !!!

you’re not a couple

yet

“how cute!” the stall owner squeals, and you can nearly see the dollar signs in her eyes as gullible mingi fails to see beyond her sly marketing ploy. she hums in contemplation, “hm, maybe i shouldn’t favor you two. wouldn’t be fair for the singles out there, am i right?”

you nervously chuckle, “that’s perfectly fine!” you try to push mingi to move along the market but it’s like his feet are immediately rooted to the ground once he hears compliments directed at you both. “psst mingi, move your ass— aha i’m pretty sure we still have some corn back home anyways—“

“do we really look cute together? :-D”

cue you smacking your palm against your forehead

“why of course!” the woman nods her head eagerly, “absolutely adorable. and especially with a fine handsome young man like you!” she turns to look at you, “he’s a good one. don’t lose him, dear.”

dang, maybe you should ask her which business school she went to because her marketing skills are just straight up fire

mingi knocks his head back as he lets out a hearty belly laugh and if you squint hard enough, you can spot the pink dusting his cheeks. “ah, you flatter me too much, ma’am!.... please tell us more about how cute we look together! :-D”

… he ended up lugging an abnormally large sack of corn all the way home

“people probably think we look like a cute couple all the time, huh?” mingi grins to himself during dinner, eliciting a glare from you as you take another hesitant bite of the… weirdly edible grilled corn salad

your bowls of corn soup and corn rice bowl (don’t ask) along with a cup of sweetened corn for dessert remains untouched while mingi scarfs down his own like a mad man

you don’t even want to know how he’s been surviving on his own

“remind me to never let you grocery shop again,” you grumble, stabbing your fork into the bowl of corn salad as mingi stares at you, finding your anger cute somehow

huh… that’s weird

why does he think your furrowed brows and the aggressive chewing behind your pouty lips are the cutest things ever right now?

uh oh

your heart practically leaped out of your chest as you yelp in surprise when mingi suddenly stands up from the dining chair and sprints to his room without a word

???

you resume back to eating your food

meanwhile, mingi grabs his laptop and looks up a love meter website to calculate love percentage while trying to calm down his erratic heart rate

he quickly types in his and your names into the website and crosses his fingers with his eyes shut as he waits for the results

ding!

he opens his eyes and excitedly reads the words on the screen

90%! Love is in the air!

:-D <3 !!!

“mingi… why are you sitting on my lap.”

“i think i’m in love with you.”

jung wooyoung

“i’m feeling lonely ♫ oh i wish i’d find a lover that could hold me ♫ now i’m crying in my room ♫ so skeptical of love ♫ but still i want it more, more, mOre ♫ i give a second chance to cUPID–”

“sing that song one more time and i will shoot you with an actual arrow.”

“hmph, meanie :-(“

usually, wooyoung would sing along to that stupidly addicting cupid song you always sing whenever you’re with him

but right now, he’s a man on a mission !! and he’s very serious about it

“i need absolute silence,” he mutters quietly, his eyes zeroing at the very serious task in hand with his brows furrowed in concentration

“you’re being dramatic.”

his head snaps up to look at you with a glare. “excuSe me? i’m sorry that i’m the only one who obviously has a passion for art here!!”

and by art, he means frosting heart-shaped sugar cookies

this is like, one of the first few human activities he’s doing !! so he wants to actually be good at this !! (〃￣ω￣〃ゞ

he doesn’t know why but he really wants to make you proud :-(

you stifle a giggle when you see his hands practically tremble as he continues to squeeze out the pastel pink frosting from the piping bag onto the heart-shaped cookies

how cute

you walk over to him and gently wrap your hand around his that’s currently holding the piping bag with a death grip, making him let out a small yelp in surprise

“you need to relax,” you softly chide, helping him loosen up his grip to gently guide him into pressing the piping bag properly

meanwhile, wooyoung’s trying to refrain himself from jumping out of your apartment window and flying to mount olympus because he can feel your breath on his neck and his heart is beating a little too fast and omg you’re so close to him &:&;;’js!

honestly, this isn’t the first time wooyoung’s felt this way towards you

it’s just,, he just feels so carefree and himself whenever he’s with you

and also because he thinks you’re the best human ever

and that you have the most beautiful smile

and that if he tries to personify love, the first thing that’d pop up in his head would be an image of you with crinkled eyes and a smile, your twinkly laughter ringing in his ears

but he’d rather let zeus zap him on the butt with a thunderbolt than admit that

“see!” you let go of his hand to excitedly gesture towards the pink cookie you helped him with, “you can do it if you let yourself have fun a little ! this one actually looks pretty decent :-D”

he already misses the warmth of your hand

“are you saying the ones i did before look bad?” he raises a brow, and your eyes nervously flicker to the tray of heart-shaped cookies that looks like it’s been frosted by a kindergartner

you start sweating

“nO of course not aha!!!! haha!!!!” he narrows his eyes at you. “okay not even gonna lie but, they do look kinda bad I’M SORRY”

he huffs, offended. “it's aBstract!”

“it’s lopsided.”

gasp D-:

you laugh when he aggressively rips off his apron before sulking, “i hate baking.”

but he knows that he’d do anything to become human; to leave his cupid errands just so he could be a regular boy who dreams of opening a bakery down the street

and in this alternate universe he’s envisioned, he’d actually manage to do it and that’s where he would first meet you

with his hands coated with flour and him sporting a messy apron, a boyish grin on his lips as he tells you that the small bag of pastry in your hands is on the house and he’d watch as your cheeks endearingly heat up

and then this alternate universe wooyoung would lean against his sleek car as he waits for you outside your apartment for a set date to an amusement park, where he’d win a giant teddy bear for you from one of those rigged game stalls

and he would try his best to make you the happiest you can be every single day

but in this life, he can only distract himself for so long from your fate that's set in stone by the red string intertwined on your pinky finger that stretches out long and far outside your apartment door— a painful reminder of the first thing his mother’s ever told him about love,

that it is never fair.

(he looks at his own gray string looped around his pinky with its short length frayed around the edges before glancing over to you who’s packing the cookies in a tupperware for him to bring while he does his cupid errands, and he knows he doesn’t regret falling for you even though he knows how it’ll end.)

choi jongho

“what do you mean you can’t go????”

jongho may or may not have tears in his eyes right now

“look, man. i really am sorry, i know we planned this weeks ago but it’s an emergency,” mingi sighs from the other line of the call, sounding genuinely regretful. “i really can’t go.”

“the new jujutsu kaisen movie drop isn’t an emergency, hyung.”

“it is !!!!!” mingi exclaims, and jongho wonders whether he’s actually a year older than him. “and i have to be one of the first people who watches it so i’m not exchanging my movie ticket for anything else.”

wow

this hurts even more than the top 10 anime betrayals :-(

“you know what? you should go do it with yn instead. you two look cute together.”

record scratch

jongho almost drops his phone placed on his ear as he feels his cheeks flush a bright beet red. “whAt !!” he squeaks.

“‘kay! i’ll talk to you soon !!!! have fun on the date hehe :-D” beep.

see… the thing is…

jongho really looks up to mingi

he’s his favorite frat brother !!!!!

and so, he finds himself sitting on the couch of your apartment right after the call, obediently following his hyung’s suggestion

curse his soft, compliant heart

“choi jongho, are you asking me out on a date?”

“-!” jongho chokes on his saliva, sputtering out unpleasant noises before bringing his fist to his chest, “n-not a date!” he manages to choke out and you grin cheekily at him. “it’s just a paint & wine class that i was supposed to go with mingi hyung but he ended up bailing, a-and it’s non-refundable and i’ve already paid in full so i’m basically forced to take you instead–”

“yeah yeah,” you dismissively wave a hand at him, already sprinting to your bedroom to get ready. “whatever. i guess i’ll agree to go on a date with you.”

“IT’S NOT A DATE!”

jongho doesn’t know when it all started

after his frat party, you two somehow always meet each other in every party he goes to and you’d both hangout in the corner of the room together, enjoying each other’s company and leaving together when the bass of the loud music finally deafens your ears

and soon enough, you have his number and he has yours, and the party hangouts turn into lunch hangouts that happens almost every day (he looks forward to it and will sulk when he doesn’t meet you at least once a day)

you also like to give him free iced americano and savory pastries from the cafe you work at !! :-D

safe to say, jongho likes you

uH, as a friend !!! of course

yeah

just as a friend

mhm

“psssst, jongho,” you whisper from across the table, stifling a giggle as you eye the other people attending the paint & wine class. “i think you need new prescription glasses.”

“if you ever mention this to wooyoung hyung, i’ll revoke our friendship,” he grits out before chugging his glass of red wine, the tip of his ears flushed red

turns out, jongho had accidentally booked two spots for a paint & wine class reserved for the elderly (which, jongho thinks, is a stupid idea because why would they let old people have a night of free-flow wine????)

the painting instructor actually felt so bad for him that they allowed you two to join the class anyways

so here you are, sitting in the two seat table smackdab in the middle of the room with everyone’s eyes on you

it also doesn’t help that you two decided to dress super fancy as a joke for the night, with jongho wearing a crisp dark gray suit over a white button up that’s barely buttoned and you with a white floor-length evening dress under the apron they gave you

it looks like you both just ditched a wedding or something

which is precisely the look you two are going for !!! :-D

and honestly, his hyungs can tease him all they want for all the mini adventures he does with you but he’s truly the happiest when he’s with you (he will never say this to your face)

“look at what i painted!”

jongho looks up from his canvas to see you pursing your lips in concentration over yours, your hand tightly gripping one of the paintbrushes as you finish up some small details before turning the easel to proudly present the A4 canvas to him. “tadaa!”

the reference for today’s class is an acrylic portrait of a brown kitten and jongho personally thinks he nailed his own rendition of the painting projected on the projection screen in front of the room so he’s really excited to see yours!!!

uhm

“...........yn, that’s not the painting we’re doing today.”

you nod, “i know.”

on your canvas, you’ve painted what looks like a hut with three beds all in different sizes, a dining table with three different sized bowls of porridge, and a family of brown bears with a little blonde boy—

"did you seriously paint me as goldilocks?”

you grin cutely at him, “i did!” you point at goldilocks-jongho on your painting, “you’re with your bear family now! isn’t it cute? :3”

(jongho’s trying his best to not bash his head through the canvas because !!!! nu uh nope nO, he definitely does not like you !!! not at all !!!! it’s just the wine doing things to his brain—)

“and i also painted the bears’ bed sheets purple because it’s your favorite color! and— oh shit.”

a loud clink echoes throughout the room, making everyone's heads (yes, the paint instructor as well) turn to look at your table

…………………

you accidentally plunged your paintbrush in your wine glass instead of the plastic cup of water beside it

both of your eyes widen at the sight of the purple paint staining the red liquid in the expensive glass

and honestly, you can probably just ask for a new glass of wine and apologize for this tiny mistake and it’ll be like nothing ever happened (except for the fact that you'll be embarrassed for the rest of the night)

but where’s the fun in that?

you exchange glances before jongho abruptly stands up from his chair, grab both of your canvases in one hand, and interlaces the other with yours as you two run out of the room, both of your laughters ringing throughout the hallway

“that’s so embarrassing!” you yelp, slamming jongho’s car door behind you before he turns on the engine, quickly backing up from the parking lot to drive away from the building. you groan as you lean back on the passenger seat, “please don’t ever take me to another paint & wine class again.”

jongho can’t help but chuckle at your flustered expression as he carefully place the canvases on the backseat without his eyes leaving the road, “i actually think that was pretty fun.”

“should we get dinner?”

“sure, i know a place. we could pretend we’re having our first anniversary so that they’d give us free chocolate lava cake.”

“are you just using this chance to pretend to be my boyfriend again?” you tease, trying to hide the smile on your face

“why are you so shy about it? we literally made out once–”

“I TOLD YOU TO NEVER BRING THAT UP AGAIN!!!!”

taglist. @ad0rechuu @diorwoo @jaehunnyy

#ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez scenarios #ateez requests #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez headcanons #ateez oneshots #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader

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obae-me · 8 months

Text

A Taste Of His Own Medicine- Full Revised Masterpost

No one asked for it, but I wanted it, so here it is! I was going through some of my old stuff, particularly this series because it was a personal favorite of mine. And boy oh boy did I feel like it was outdated. Partially because of nightbringer, but also because my writing style has changed a bit over the last few years. So, I figured I'd go through it all, edit a few things, take out a few bits I didn't agree with character wise, and add some details here and there to make it all flow a little better! Lucifer's chapter especially got a chunky overhaul (yeesh that one made me cringe). The changes aren't enormous, but just enough to make a difference I think. And now I get to put them all in one nice little post! I'll still be keeping my older versions on my masterlist. It'll be kinda neat to have both there for comparison's sake. Plus I added a little bonus scene at the end that's... a teaser of things I have planned. See if you can guess what it is. Oh, and if you're new here, hi! Enjoy a silly fic I made!

Anyways, enjoy!

Warnings: Sickness, fainting, blood mention, gagging, fighting, medication use, brief taking of double doses. General sickfic things.

It spread as a rumor first. The halls of RAD were always abuzz with the latest news; the newest trend, an upcoming event, what Diavolo was having for lunch. However, lately the only thing everyone seemed to be talking about was a new airborne virus. Students clustered less frequently in the halls, sharing hushed whispers on who had been most recently afflicted. You had been assured that humans should be immune to this particular strain but to still err on the side of caution. Take the proper steps to keep yourself in good health. Waves of sickness like this always came closer to the wintertime, much like the human realm. And while the air in the Devildom carried a general sense of anxiety, no one in the House of Lamentation seemed worried in the least.

“We’re technically fallen angels, not demons.”

“Psh, you think a little virus is enough to affect us? No chance!”

“There’s no way any of us will get sick. Don’t worry.”

Pride was rampant throughout the House. So…perhaps it was only fitting that Lucifer was the first in the household to catch it.

He had shown symptoms a few days before, beginning with not having the energy to scold Mammon. Then it snowballed from there. Almost losing his balance while going up the stairs, putting too much sweetener in his coffee, failing to focus over relatively mindless things, it concerned you. Everyone else didn’t seem to notice…or perhaps they were pretending not to, taking advantage of Lucifer’s odd state and doing whatever their sinful little hearts desired. No one thought it could be that serious, otherwise they might’ve done something about it. Kept a closer eye on him… But this was Lucifer after all. He got like this sometimes, they all claimed. He was simply working himself too hard again. But…even so…you knew something was off. This was more than just your typical burnout.

Did you dare risk damaging his pride to ask? You weighed the outcomes in your mind, deciding in the end to go check on what was wrong that night. Hoping to appeal to him, you had even made some of his favorite tea. You’d even prepared a second cup for you, secretly wanting to maybe share a moment of time together… Stepping slowly to ensure you didn’t spill a single drop, you went straight to his bedroom, knocking on his door exactly twice in even beats. No answer. His study then, perhaps. So you headed there, passing the shelves of dusty tomes to see that the bookshelf which served as his secret entrance was wide open.

“Lucifer?” you called, holding yourself back on worried feet. Waltzing in unannounced did not always grant you the warmest of receptions. He preferred to have some sort of warning. Although, this time there was no response to your announcement. “Lucifer?” you asked again, your voice slightly louder. Still nothing. You couldn’t hear any music… and he wasn’t often known to wear headphones. Just a peek couldn’t hurt, could it? Just to make sure he wasn’t inside. You stepped forward and poked your head through the doorway.

At first glance, the office appeared empty, his overly grandiose chair devoid of its demon. However, after a better look, you noticed that he was inside, just not how you expected him to be. The Prideful Lucifer was crumpled on the ground, surrounded by what should’ve been a stack of papers, but now was just a scattered mess on the floor.

The heart in your chest nearly stopped, your mind jumping to various grisly conclusions. Somehow you managed to put the teacups aside without dropping them like one might do in a dramatic soap opera episode. The musical sting was audible in your mind. You rushed to him, moving him with a strained grunt so he was flat on his back. You shouted his name in an attempt to wake him, checking for wounds. “Lucifer!” He didn’t move. Not even a twitch. Burning crimson cheeks flushed brightly on skin as white as a sheet. You checked his breathing. Constant, luckily, but shaky. There was a faint tremble throughout his body. Your hand drifted down to his cheek as you caressed his face. To say he looked terrible was an understatement.

You fumbled for your D.D.D. desperately hoping that someone would pick up quickly. But who to call? Your mind ran through everyone you knew. Mammon? Barbatos? Diavolo? Perhaps Beel was your best bet. He was dependable. You didn’t want to risk anyone else taking advantage of him like this. Besides there was no way you could drag Lucifer up to bed alone, and Beel was easily as strong as three of you.

You dialed Gluttony, doing your best to not bite your knuckles in worry. Each echoing ring felt far too long… Pick up… Pick up! “Oh, MC, you called at a good time.” The breath that came out of you was almost a gasp. “I’m getting ready to order food since the kitchen is empty. What do you want? I’ll get it for you?” Beel sounded like he was still in the middle of chewing, which probably meant he just now emptied out the kitchen. Now wasn’t the time to worry about that though.

“Beel- Beel! I… I came into the office and… Please come down to Lucifer’s study, I- I need your help! Lucifer- Lucifer he’s…not well.” Your voice shook, doing your best to form comprehensive words aside from the panic. You’d hid the fact that he collapsed to save some of his pride. Even though it would be fairly obvious once Beel got here…

Beelzebub’s tone went more serious. He swallowed whatever food he had left before speaking again. “I’ll be right there.” He hung up.

Now that Beel was coming to help, you felt a bit more relaxed, but not by much. You put your D.D.D. back into your pocket and knelt beside Lucifer’s body. His head was lifted up with your shaking hands, letting him use your lap as a pillow. You brushed away the hair that was now starting to stick to his skin. You’d never seen him like this before, and you were certain that Lucifer would rather die than be discovered like this. Nevertheless you couldn’t help but pet his head.

It wasn’t too long before Beel came in, messy crumbs all over his shirt as he left in a haste. Once he saw the state Lucifer was in, he scanned back over his shoulder. “Mammon is busy arguing with Levi, Belphie is taking a nap, Asmo’s out, and I’m hoping Satan is in his room. Let’s get Lucifer to bed quickly.” He came over and quickly lifted his elder brother up off the floor. It didn’t matter how long you had been around him, any time Beel was able to show of just how strong he was, it left you in awe. “Why don’t you go ahead of us and meet me in his room?” Beel asked. For a second, you blinked in a stupor before you quickly nodded, bolting as fast as your feet would take you up the stairs towards the second floor to his grand master bedroom.

Careful of potential eyes, you looked around for anyone before opening the door. As Beel said, you could hear Mammon and Levi going at it, but they were a few rooms away. You invited yourself inside, leaving the entrance open just a crack so Beel could easily come right in. Now to prep Lucifer’s bed. It was extremely large, entirely unnecessary for one person, but a perfect fit for the Demon of Pride. You took one corner of the silky sheets and folded them aside. Then you waited. And waited. And waited. After what seemed like eternity- but was realistically only a few minutes- both brothers entered the room. You got up and quietly shut the door behind them while Beel placed Lucifer on the bed.

“What do we do now?” you asked. “Should we call a doctor?”

Beel’s mouth tightened. It was obvious he was worried, but he shook his head. “We… can’t. We leave him alone and he’ll probably call someone when he wakes up.”

You stood there, jaw open, not able to fully process the words. “’We can’t?’ W-What do you mean, ‘we can’t’?”

“It’s sort of an unspoken rule… If Lucifer ever gets sick we have to leave him alone. Even just the fact that we brought him up here might get us in trouble.” Beel looked a bit downtrodden.

You stammered over your words. “I- but- we can’t- That’s the most ridiculous and hypocritical rule I’ve ever heard! If it were someone else, Lucifer would have everything covered as soon as possible!”

“It’s mostly to keep Satan and Belphie away… and to make sure Diavolo doesn’t find out. He tends to be a worrier.” Beel explained. He shrugged, glancing over at his brother for a moment as he thought. “I’ll go keep watch over this room. Maybe if you take care of him, he won’t be as upset. Please…take care of him MC.” With that he left, however you could still hear him outside the door, already munching on something as he stress ate.

You nervously paced. Taking care of him sounded easy in theory, but in actuality you had no idea how to take care of a demon. Would it be the same as a human? Probably not but that was all you knew how to do, so it had to be better than nothing, right? So you left the room for just a moment to grab a few things. A glass of water so he could stay hydrated and a bowl of cold water with a soft rag to bring down his temperature.

When you returned to the room, you froze. Lucifer was sitting up slightly in bed, looking disoriented. A relived sigh released all the built up tension in your lungs. “Oh, thank Diavolo… Lucifer, are you okay?” His head swung around at you, eyes a bit wide. He didn’t notice you had entered. “MC… what’re you doing in here? I--” He cut himself off in shock as you placed the cup of water in his hands and the bowl on his nightstand. You got the rag damp, wringing out the excess.

“Do you not remember?” you asked him, raising a hand to put the rag against his face. Embarrassed and clearly overwhelmed, he swatted your touch away and forcefully put the glass back in your hands.

“Enough of this fussing! There’s no need for it.” He scowled, but his dry lips were a bit poutier than he intended. “I don’t know what’s gotten you to believe you needed to come in my room, but I don’t remember inviting you. It’s about time you took your leave.” His tone was stern but his words didn’t have the usual sharp impact they normally did when he was upset. They just sounded tired. Strained. You frowned. You couldn’t tell if he was unaware he collapsed or just glancing over the fact he did. Either way he was clearly lying about being alright. You decided not to bring up the study situation for his pride’s sake, but even with your two fully ordinary human eyes you could tell that he needed to be looked after.

You’d defied him before and hadn’t died yet. Sure there had been close calls, but… what was going against him one more time going to do? “I’m not leaving," you told him.

Lucifer disapproved. His eyes went narrow and air around him grew even hotter. A few more red splotches showed up on his face… “Would you like to say that again? I hope for your sake I misheard you.”

“I’m not leaving you right now, Lucifer.” You stood your ground. Sometimes stubbornness needed to be met with more stubbornness. Lucifer clenched his jaw and stood up. Too quickly. He lost his balance and fell to his knees, clutching tightly the only thing keeping him from falling over. You. He had his face buried in your shirt, his breathing now ragged. Seeing him like this was torture… although there was something about seeing Pride be humbled that gave him further access to your heart. He wasn’t some untouchable distant concept. He was a person who got sick sometimes, just like you. Once more, you ran your hand through his hair, tender fingers rubbing at the pressure points on his scalp. Even him just being this close made you hot. He was a burning furnace. “You’re not well, Lucifer… And I know you won’t ever admit it so you don’t have to say anything, you don’t have to ask, I’ll do the begging, just please let me take care of you. You take care of everyone else, so when you can’t even take care of yourself let me take care of you. Please.”

He didn’t respond, just kept his face hidden. For a second, he motioned as if he was going to push you away… but he pulled you closer, his grip on your clothes getting tighter. Acceptance… You bent down to grab one of his arms to help him get to his feet. His throat cleared as he sat on the edge of his bed. It was clear he had a lot to say, but he kept everything to himself. Lucifer’s eyes wandered, looking at everything in his room except for you. Slowly, you reached towards his neck, taking the stuffy tie off of him. Kneeling down, you removed his dress shoes, tucking them aside. He loosened a few of his own buttons, already looking a little better without so many unnecessary layers. Finally, you took both his hands in your own, feeling the curves of his palms before stripping his hands of their gloves. When he got back inside his bed he turned away from you. Sulking and feeling thoroughly defeated probably. Flustered, if you could allow yourself to think so. You tried hard not to smile. He would absolutely kill you if he knew you thought he was being cute.

With a hand on his shoulder, you urged him to lie on his back. Once he begrudgingly did, you pulled the blankets up to his neck and had the rag in hand again. You ran the cool fabric across his cheeks before folding it up and settling it across his forehead. Then you went over to one of his record players, scouring through his large collection until you found the record that he told you was a favorite of his. And not one of his cursed ones. You placed it on the player, making sure the music was loud enough to be heard but not enough to keep him up. It started with a soft piece, something calm and hauntingly beautiful. Hopefully it would help him relax.

Lucifer already had his eyes closed again, the red in his cheeks gone down from cherry to coral- in other words, just a touch. However, it was enough to make you feel less antsy at his condition. You had been so close to contacting Diavolo, but now it seemed as if you didn’t need to. Since you had just had your hands in the water, they were cool to the touch, so you gently brushed them against his cheek again. This time he moved his head to melt into you. A soothed hum left his throat. He grabbed your sleeve, now looking up at you with an expression entirely different than just a few minutes before. “Please…don’t leave tonight.” His voice was soft and hush, almost as if he didn’t want to hear his own words. You rubbed his cheekbone with your thumb. A shiver ran through his body and it was hard to tell if it was from your touch or from the fever.

“Don’t worry, I won’t. Sleep now.” He shut his eyes and with a large shuddering sigh, he seemed to drift back to sleep. You took the rag, it already warm, and you touched your forehead to his. “Sweet dreams.” You whispered.

Lucifer recovered fairly quickly. What had left lesser demons bedridden for a week or so only had the eldest brother recovering for a handful of days. Now, he had done his best to keep himself isolated, but once his siblings eventually learned how bad off he had been- despite your best efforts to keep it a secret- they all came in on their own time to check on him. At the end of the day, even if they often had each other by the throat, they cared for each other deeply. You had to wonder if the extra unexpected TLC was part of what got Lucifer back up on his feet so rapidly.

Mammon was in and out of Luci’s room pretty frequently. Despite yours and Pride’s warnings, he was determined to do his duty as second in line and take care of his sibling. So, no one was all too surprised when Greed fell ill not even a single day after Lucifer was symptomless. But, what did catch everyone off guard was that Mammon was not the only one who got suddenly sick. Out of every other brother, Satan was also next to fall ill to the Devil’s Cold. Lucifer commented proudly that Wrath had been excellent in his service, bringing him specially crafted potions to lesson pain and bringing him up special meals to restore his vigor. All was revealed much to Satan’s dismay. Apparently it was meant to be a secret. He tried to twist it into some sort of reverse psychology prank, but everyone knew Satan was acting out of worry. So, a proper deed was returned in kind, Lucifer looking after the both of them to the best of his abilities. Such a doting older sibling through and through. Although, despite the rare opportunity to have Lucifer wait on them hand-and-foot, Mammon and Satan were both acting strangely difficult. Satan’s denial of Lucifer’s fussing made more sense, strained relationship and all, but Mammon’s sudden cold stubbornness was rather uncharacteristic. So, while the eldest was busy finishing the two extra workloads of Student Council business, he asked that you check up on the second-eldest.

You eagerly agreed. For not only was Mammon being reserved towards his siblings, but also towards you… It was a sensation you weren’t used to, him being so close to you and all. This would be a good excuse to see him. Approaching his room, you knocked on his door, pressing your ear against the expensive looking wood only to hear a groan from inside. It wasn’t what you would define as a dismissive groan, so you let yourself in. Overhead completely off, extra light from his displays all dimmed, you were left stumbling around in darkness for the light switch. Once you flicked it on, the pained moan you heard before returned, albeit louder this time. Seemed he was sensitive to light at the moment. You bit your bottom lip and flicked his light back off, opting to use the glow from the screen of your D.D.D. instead.

The faint light gave you enough vision to spot giant lump under the covers of his bed. Not a single part of Mammon’s body was exposed. He was all bundled in a ball. You came over, a nice hot drink in your hands in a shiny golden-colored mug. Lucifer had told you that the concoction was good for demons, and among that one of Mammon’s favorites. To you, it just smelled like cinnamon and milk.

You gently pressed your hand over the bed lump, shaking it slightly as you announced your presence with a soft voice. “Mammon, it’s me… Lucifer sent me. I have something for you.”

The blob of blankets shifted, little chirps of discomfort making their way to your ears. He scuttled away from you at first, the blanket pulled tighter around him. It required several minutes of coaxing for him to come out. The covers fell away as he finally sat up in bed, hair sticking up every which way. His black tank-top was sticking tight to his torso, his face devoid of the normal vibrancy it usually held. Not only that, but it seemed the exhaustion had him stuck halfway between his demon and human form. His body marks were present across his body, but they were very translucent. His horns were absent from his head, but you could see his wings tucked against his back. His nails were the sharpness of talons. Normally, his eyes shined at you, little flecks of gold floating in the seas of blue. Now his color was dulled. But at the sight of you, a bit of him perked up. You were a much needed presence. Even if he talked up a big game over text about ‘not needing to see you’, at the end of the day, having you at his side was what he wanted most of all. You could read from his expression that he regretted not having you come in sooner.

You held out the drink for him, and he reached for it with shaking hands. Worried he’d spill it, you cupped your own hands around his, giving him the added support as he brought the rim of the mug to his lips, taking mini sips while giving himself breaks to breathe in-between. You frowned… He was barely able to hold and consume his own drink. When he was done drinking it, you put the half-empty mug aside on his nightstand.

“Th-ank you, huma-hu… MC,” he croaked, his eyelids fluttered and he fell back onto his bed, his face buried in his pillow. He let his hand dangle over the side of his bed, his fingers almost grazing the floor. Your heart ached seeing him in this position… but you secretly had to admit, he was being awfully cute. His tsundere nature was gone, you only wished he didn’t need to be this far gone to be sweet with you. You ran a hand through his crazed hair. A little greasy. He would need to wash up. You’d let Lucifer handle that one. Mammon turned his head slightly, just enough to see you with one eye cracked open. You saw it glisten with tears for a split second before he turned back into his pillow. Lucifer was probably caring in his own demanding way, but you wanted to bet he’d never been treated like this before.

You shook your head a bit at that thought and went about rummaging though his clothes to find a cleaner outfit for him to wear. Lucifer could help him get changed out of those sweaty things later. You folded up a suitable replacement and placed it on his couch, pushing aside empty shopping bags. Then you sat beside Mammon on the mattress, reaching for the rag Lucifer had brought to him earlier. Mammon must’ve been tossing and turning for a while, seeing as it was at the end of his pillow case, threatening to fall to the floor. You dipped it in the bowl of cool water that was left on the nightstand, feeling the feverish warmth dissolve out of it.

“Mammon…Mammon, turn your head,” you asked. He raised up his dangling arm to reach for the covers…and pulled the fabric over his body with a huff. You had been wrong, apparently. There was still a twinge of tsundere left in him. It was comforting, at least, knowing that he still was the embarrassed little demon with that playful attitude you adored. You covered up a small smile with your hand. “Mammon, please. Pretty please? Pretty please with Grimm on top?” You pleaded with him, leaning on him with your own body till he squirmed under your pressure.

“Oi…” he croaked. “Fine…” He shuffled around under his sheets before showing just the upper part of his head, his gaze plastered on anything other than your face. You tried hard not to chuckle, you really did. He was being so stubborn about this. You placed the cool rag on his forehead and heard him sigh. You used a finger to pull down his blankets so you could see his features. You cupped his chin to move his head and guide his gaze towards yours. You stroked his cheek and watched a twinge of color return to his cheeks as he blushed.

“Do you need anything else, Mammon?” You asked him gently. It was a bold move to ask Greed what he wanted. You could only begin to imagine what he’d ask for. Cold cash? A new pair of shoes? A car? At the moment though, you didn’t care what he asked, you’d get it for him if it was within your power…and your budget.

To your surprise, he frowned at the thought of being pampered, apparently. He licked his cracked lips and shook his head. “N-Nah…you can…go.” Had hell frozen over? Was this why Lucifer had asked you to check on him? Was he so miserable right now, he couldn’t even turn to his sin? Or was there something more to it?

“Mammon… you’re not being greedy by letting me help you. I can grab you whatever you think you need. Hell, I’d go fishing in Lucifer’s wallet if I thought it would make you feel better.”

The second-born tried to laugh a little but just ended up coughing. After he wrestled control over his own lungs, he blinked a little, thinking. “Can I…have some water, maybe?” He talked as if this was a new sensation, as if he had never coveted anything in his life.

“Of course. Anything else?” If you managed to poke and prod a little more of his sin to come out, you’d feel a little better.

“I…don’t know…” Poor Mammon seemed pretty out of it, like he was dangerously close to falling asleep, but being forced awake by the sheer discomfort in his body. If you could help him out, he might stop tossing and turning.

“Okay,” you nodded, a little idea illuminating in the back of your mind. If he couldn’t be greedy, you’d be greedy for him. “I’ll be right back with a few things, okay?” His fingers snagged onto the end of your sleeve, upset at the thought of letting you go, but his hand dropped back to the bed. With an assuring squeeze to his shoulder, you left his room.

A quick text was sent to the other residents of the House, requiring a quick meeting in the common-room. You tried hard not to pace as you waited for each brother to trickle in, a curious look on all their faces. Lucifer showed up last, his arms folded but appearing more concerned than frustrated. “I’m assuming this has to do with Mammon,” the eldest chimed in before anything was said.

“Exactly.” Turning your head, you gave each brother a determined look before setting your plan in action. “We’re all putting together a Get-Well-Basket for Mammon!”

A sleepy voice raised a little. “Huh?… A Get-Well-Basket?”

You nodded. “Yeah, you know, like a little assortment of gifts to show someone you care. It doesn’t have to be much, but just grab things you think would make him feel better! Oh, and he likes words of affirmation, so you all have to write a nice note!” A few of them tried to groan, but you were hearing none of it. “Go on! Right now! The master of your pact demands you! Don’t make me use ‘stay’.” The grumbles turned into quick agreements as the able-bodied set off in their quest to prepare their brother a basket. You hurried off to your own room, grabbing an open Akuzon box off your floor, a set of pens and a stack of sticky-notes off your desk. Then you looked around for something to give your precious demon of Greed. A lot of the things you owned… had been bought by him. You guessed you hadn’t realized till now how much he bought things for you. He deserved some nice things back… Not wanting to leave Mammon waiting too much longer, you snagged a nice pair of socks and a crystal you’d bought at a nearby magic shop. They got thrown in the box as you went back to the common-room.

A few other brothers were already there by the time you returned. Pleased with them, you set the box on a nearby coffee-table and handed each of them a pen and a note. “Now, your little letters. Make them nice or I’ll force you do them again!”

Dramatic huffs and puffs were made for the show of things, but they all seemed to really think about something nice to say. “How’s he doing, by the way?” Beel wondered aloud, speaking as he recently entered the room. Different eyes flickered down to the floor. Seems they all were wondering the same thing but none of them knew how to say it.

“Not the best,” you admitted, taking a few of the brother’s gifts and settling them in the reused box. “Which is why I thought this little pick-me-up would do him some good.” The rest of the demons fell silent, finishing their notes and attaching them to their gifts.

“Tell him- Tell him I said to feel better,” Levi sighed, giving you a little wave before returning to his bedroom.

“Yeah! Tell him that if he misses out going to that party with me next week, I won’t ever forgive him!” Asmo’s eyes narrowed at nothing in particular, kissing his note before putting it with his gift. The other siblings had similar sentiments, their well-wishes eventually compiled into one box. You found yourself smiling. This would help for sure. With the box and the water he originally asked for in hand, you returned to his room.

Mammon was sitting up again when you came back, his knees tucked against his chest, his finger tugging at a loose thread on the hem of his blanket. The soft light coming from a book lamp on his nightstand helped you keep from tripping on the floor. When you walked in through the door, you could’ve sworn you saw him smile. His eyes took turns observing you and the curious box in your arms. “Wha’s that?” he wondered, his words slurred slightly.

“It’s for you.” In a few steps, you were back at his side, giving him the water first for him to drink before settling the Get-Well-Basket at his feet. “From me and all your brothers. To make you feel better.”

It was clear he was confused for a good while. “For…me?” But then, that little glimmer in his eyes returned as he started to rummage through the box. He read a few of the notes, scoffing and tossing most of them aside. Whatever they all had wrote had clearly touched him and made him embarrassed. It seemed as if this idea of yours was a success.

“Is there anything else I can get you?”

The demon of greed had to think deeply again before putting the box of gifts on the ground near his bed. He sighed a little, letting his legs leave his chest and go flat under the covers. Mammon hesitated before holding his hand out. “Y…Yo…” Even if he hadn’t fully said it, it was clear what he wanted in his time of need. You.

Something in your chest squeezed. You took Mammon’s hand and pulled him towards you, embracing him in a hug. His weary head rested on your shoulder, his shoulders relaxing, the tension leaving his body as your hand found it’s way between the joints of his wings. “You didn’t have to ask. I’m here whenever you need me. It’s not selfish to want someone by your side when you don’t feel well. And I want to be here...with you.” You could hear his little gasp as you held him, his breathing eventually becoming slower, calmer. With you at his side, he finally had enough peace of mind to relax. “Get some sleep if you can… everybody is waiting for you to get better…”

Mammon was now well on the mend thanks to your efforts. Sprung up like quite the spring chicken with you doting on him. He got his energy back faster than Lucifer did, but his symptoms lingered longer. It was rather amusing actually. Hard to steal stuff while your sniffles give away your location sneaking through the halls. Although, even with two counts of demon-caretaking under your belt and a self-proclaimed gift of healing, you had yet to check up on Wrath. Not to say you didn’t want to, you just… couldn’t. Banned, in fact. Deterred by Lucifer himself. But you just wanted to help. Lucifer was constantly busy, not to mention that his knowledgeable yet vengeful younger brother was expending all his strength that he should’ve used to recover busting the house to pieces in several fever-fueled rampages. It had seemed like the logical choice, and rarely did Lucifer prevent you from keeping an eye on his brothers. So why now of all times?

“He’s being…unreasonable,” was Lucifer’s answer. Out of all the possible reasons, this seemed among the most pathetic. A rearranged ‘because I said so’ with some vagueness sprinkled in. Disappointing.

“If I remember correctly, you were also pretty unreasonable,” you stated, trying to hold back a smirk steadily curling across your lips. He just scowled, glaring you up and down, trying to decide if he abhorred your backtalk or found it endearing. He leaned back in his cushy seat in his study, placing down his much too expensive pen by the pile of work he needed to finish by tonight. Another lecture on getting better rest tickled the back of your throat, tempting you. Recovered or not, he needed to give his body proper sleep lest he fall into another bout of sickness…

“And if I remember correctly, we agreed it would not be discussed again.” His sharp expression softened just a touch, a light shade of pink gracing his cheeks as he recalled how you took care of him in his weakened state. Before he thought about it too hard, he cleared his throat. Staggering hairs were brushed away from his forehead as he folded his arms in front of his chest. It heaved in a sigh. “His body and mind have been considerably weakened, therefore he has little to no control over his anger. He is Wrath, and I shudder to think what may befall you should you try to talk to him right now.” He peered deep into your eyes, taking note of your unwavering stance and stern composition. “And yet I suspect you’re going to go see him anyway.”

Bingo. Your hobby of thrusting yourself into dangerous situations formed another greying hair on Lucifer’s head. With a look equal parts exhaustion and worry, Pride lifted his hand and snapped his gloved fingers. Something in the house shifted. The magical lock placed on Satan’s room was broken for you. Although, Lucifer had to go over some rules, ensuring that, at the very least, Beel would be just outside should anything happen. You were to be whisked out of there at the first trace of danger.

The demon’s door was right in front of you now, and for a second you hesitated. You took a deep breath, clutching to your chest some medicine and a hardcover book from the human world containing old fables. Knowing him, he’d probably read it already, but it was worth a try. You knocked on the door, glancing a look at Beel before loudly stating your presence to the inhabitant of the room. Pushing the door open, you were pleased to find that so far you were unharmed, which was admittedly a great first step.

However, you quickly found yourself awash in a sea of books. A mess in Satan’s room was pretty normal. But this… was on a new scale. Honestly, you were almost impressed. Books and scrolls were haphazardly stacked, covering the floor, basically everywhere. You couldn’t even see his bed, it was hidden somewhere in this labyrinth of tomes. You held your breath, not even daring to breathe for fear everything around you would come tumbling down. The last thing you wanted was to be crushed to death. If the books didn’t kill you, you had a wary feeling Satan might for disturbing his ‘organized library’. So, you carefully weaved your way through slender passageways in the piles before you found, what you assumed, was Satan’s bed.

The reason you could only ‘assume’ is because at this juncture in time it hardly looked like a bed at all. Just a quick glance and it would’ve blended in with any other heap in this room. It was camouflaged with more books, torn pages, binders, pamphlets, a few cat figures, dioramas, etc.. Self reminder to check to see if there were any shows on demon-hoarders in the Devildom…

A jagged green-tipped tail dangled from beneath the bed-pile. It twitched and flicked, sending some novels skidding across the floor. You inhaled deep through your nose.

“Satan? It’s me.”

Satan’s tail whipped across the space between you and the bed. It struck one of the impossibly high stacks of books, sending it teetering and tottering threateningly before it crashed down. If you hadn’t taken a few steps back, you would’ve been one with that pile… You huffed to yourself. Rude… You wanted to help him and this was how he was treating you?

“Satan, please.” A book whizzed past your head and you winced, the sting of a little paper-cut blooming across your cheek. The air in the room was suddenly noticeably hot. You knew these were demons. You knew they were capable of destroying you in seconds, but that didn’t stop your stubborn nature from feeling absolutely offended. And so, as if you had a death wish, you scolded him. “Satan!” You strutted over, throwing the covers back and sending even more clutter to the floor, but at least you could look at him. But a part of you wished you couldn’t.

Teeth were bared as his mouth formed a menacing scowl. Hair was messy and untamed. His eyes were glowing an unnatural green, a lens behind his irises reflecting back at you like a creature in the shadows. A deep resonant rumble emanated from his chest. He looked absolutely feral, but it wasn’t till he pressed himself into the corner of his bed and the wall, knees close to his chest, that you put your fear beside yourself. Yes, at first glance you may have been entirely convinced he was going to tear your throat out, but then you ran your gaze over him a few times… His face was covered in patches of crimson. He was only wearing a green long-sleeved shirt and stripped boxers covered in kittens wearing top-hats. There was a sheet of paper skewered onto one of his horns, and he now was curled up protectively against the wall in a little ball. He was scared.

“Get out,” he demanded. It would’ve been threatening sounding if his lungs didn’t sound as if he swallowed a squeaky toy. He was wheezing, fingertips shaking, his tail protectively curled up against his legs, the tip of it quivering.

To be honest… you wouldn’t leave this room right now for all the Grimm in the Devildom. “I’ll leave after I’m done helping you out a bit,” you assured him, but he didn’t want that answer.

“Get out! Out, out, out!” He clutched another book in his hand and chucked it in your direction with a shout, this time missing you by a mile. You blinked. Was he…having a meltdown?

“Satan, throwing stuff at me isn’t going to make me leave any faster, so cooperate and I’ll be out of here as soon as possible.” You smiled softly at him. Wrath had no retort nor nearby ammo left, so he tucked his face into his knees, letting you get to work. It would take you hours to clean the room, but you did what you could for the moment, tidying up at least the chaos surrounding his bed. How he would’ve slept with that mess on him was beyond your understanding. Or maybe that was one of the reasons why he was being so cranky. Books aren’t exactly great nest material.

You shook off his blankets, puffed up his pillow, and then took a hesitant scan at the medicine you’d put on his nightstand. Lucifer had told you where to get it. Supposedly a powerful medication that tasted as bad as the one taking it felt. It was also administered as a liquid, because for all their power, demons hadn’t made capsules a widespread thing yet. You had no idea how you were going to get Satan to take it.

Maybe being sweet first. “Satan,” you cooed, sitting yourself beside him on the bed while he remained curled up in a tight angry ball. “I have some medicin-“

“No.”

Figures, you were reaching with that one. Maybe begging? “Satan, please, please, please, pleaaaaase take-“

“Bite me.”

You scoffed aloud. He was absolutely, without a doubt, being a brat. On par with Belphie right now. You took a moment to recall how you convinced Lucifer and Mammon. Lucifer was only won over when you stood your ground and told him what to do for a change, challenging his pride. Mammon, you went out of your way to get him things, stoking his greed. With wrath…did you? Time to indulge in a little more sin.

“Satan, I swear to the Father above and Diavolo below, if you don’t quit fighting against me when I’m trying to help you, I’m going to shove this entire freaking thing down your throat till it’s the only thing you can taste for decades!” You raised your voice, shouting at him with a fury in your chest you’d never used before, ever. Especially not against Satan. But, against all odds, you were alive, and instead of smoke coming out of his ears, Satan looked up at you from behind messy bangs. Shocked beyond belief, his mouth slightly ajar, he uncurled himself from his position and sat up slowly, his head looking down.

“Tch.” He puffed air through his teeth, giving in finally. Your attempt, while perhaps mediocre without any demonic snarling and mysterious fog, was successful. You hummed to yourself in glee, taking the cap off the bottle and pouring in the medicine. It smelled God-awful, and you felt sympathy for him, but if it was going to make him feel better, he needed it. You held it up to his lips. He growled in frustration but then parted his mouth to let you pour in the foul mixture.

Already pale skin turned even ashier as the glop slid down past the lump in his throat. He looked like he was going to be sick. He slumped his posture and began to release shuddering coughs that nearly turned to gags. You instinctively put a hand on his back, rubbing up and down along the ridge of his spine. Once he was done with the episode, he sat back up, swaying in his seat back and forth until you held onto him, gently bringing him back down onto his pillow. You moved the hair out of his eyes and sighed in relief. Thanks to whatever magic Devildom medicine had, his redness had already gone drastically down, and he looked fairly calm for now. Mellowed out. Some strong stuff…

His eyelids couldn’t decide if they wanted to be open or shut, struggling to fight sleep. “Rest,” you whispered, getting up off his bed, pulling the covers tighter around him, urging him to go to bed. After you helped him, then you would leave him alone, that’s what you promised… even if you desperately wanted to stay. With a little turn, you picked up the book you had brought with you. He grabbed your wrist before you could even attempt to leave. A tilt of the head, and he sleepily read the cover before letting his hand drop back onto the mattress.

“I bought that…for you,” he mumbled. With a grin, you nodded. He had bought it for you during the adventure to London. It was filled with old fairytales and fables, the authentic gruesome kind, not the kind human kids grew up on. Both had their perks in his mind, but Satan seemed particularly fond of the ones that broke free from the stagnant ‘happily ever after’.

“I brought it here for you to read, but you need sleep. Besides you have plenty of other books here…” Your voice trailed off as you reached for his horn that still had the paper stuck to it. You yanked it free with a light chuckle.

“But…” He wanted to argue, but had no energy left to. “Will you…” Satan started, gripping at his own sheets so tight you thought he would rip holes in them. “Read…to me?” Your heart soared so fast you almost went lightheaded. You sat back down on his bed, fussing over him just a bit more, fixing his messy hair. He groaned as you did but let you do it anyway.

“Of course! I’ll read for you whenever, Satan. Whatever makes you feel better.”

“You…” He almost sounded frustrated, like he couldn’t comprehend how you could be so kind especially after the mood he was just in. Then he settled as you flipped the book open to the first page, recounting terribly sad events with a terribly soft voice. Every so often he’d correct you if you fumbled on a word, or correct the inaccuracies of the story itself, but eventually he went to sleep. His eyeballs moved frantically under his eyelids as he slept. His voice would squeak out some incomprehensible word while he dreamt, his fingers twitching in random increments. You noted that his tail that was draped off the side of the bed was now gently curled against your leg. His demonic appendage was rough, sharp in some places, and yet you could hardly feel it with the way he was holding you now. He was comfortable around you.

You used the stray paper that had been on his head as a bookmark, placing the book back on his nightstand for later. “I guess they all get to live happy ever after this time,” you whispered to him in his unconscious state before you pressed the back of your hand against his cheek. Your knuckles tickled his jawline, making his face twitch closer to your hand. “Sweet dreams, Satan. Feel better.”

Lucifer and Mammon were now considered fully healthy and back on their feet with Satan not too far behind them. For a few days, there was hope that the worst was over. It wouldn’t spread any further. The sound of sniffles and the scent of disinfectant wipes would finally dwindle. But, whenever you hope too hard, things always seem to go in the opposite direction. Hopes were dashed when two people were absent from breakfast one morning, and not too long after Satan had finally returned to the table. The twins had never come down from their shared room. For Belphie, this wasn’t something to stop the presses for. Sleeping in and skipping the morning was his whole shtick. His brothers were usually more concerned when Sloth did show up for breakfast. For Beel, however, to miss any sort of meal? Something had to be wrong.

Putting your fork down, you offered to go check on them. After all, morning breakfast was not the same without the two of them. Lucifer was somehow already out of his chair, gently pushing you back to your seat with a single hand on your shoulder. “Please, let me. If they are sick it’s hard telling how they’ll react. They could just as easily be oversleeping.”

You had wanted to protest, but Lucifer was nothing if not the voice of reason. He was right. You had seen Beel’s hunger-driven rampages before. Demonic destruction wasn’t something to sneeze at- no pun intended. Plus, Lucifer was their brother first-and-foremost whilst you were still just some human that had the luxury of living in their home. That fact and the kinder eyes and soft touch Lucifer had given you had won you over to his words. You could trust him to handle this one… He ambled away from the table, and with a few long steps, exited the room.

Asmo was squirming uncomfortably, audibly whining, clearly disturbed. “I was stupid to think this sickness thing was over! With Beel eating everything down to all your leftovers, it’s no wonder he caught your ugly germs! Then he gave it to Belphie, and next you’ll all give it to me!” He pushed his plate away from him, only having a single bite taken out of his meal.

“You don’t know that they’re sick yet,” Mammon rebutted. “And what do you mean my germs are ugly? Everyone’s are!”

“The likelihood that both of them are ill is high.” Satan sighed, putting down his book he had brought with him. After doing his best to tune them out, it just wasn’t working. He still was weaker than he’d like to be, not to mention drained, but a doctor had confirmed that he was no longer contagious and could continue attending his classes at RAD. “The fridge has been abnormally full and I heard plenty of coughing from Belphie the other day.”

An alarming banging sound came from above their heads, little specks of dust from the ceiling floated down, only just visible in the direct light. As if this proved his theory, Satan gestured towards the noise with a raised hand. He held it up for a moment before his arm dropped into his lap. Another loud crash sounded from above, Satan’s eyelid twitching as Lucifer’s booming voice could be heard throughout the house.

This was enough for Asmo to get up from his spot, shaking his head profusely. “I swear if I catch this thing, all of you are absolutely going to have it, you hear me?!” He choked back a sob and went to leave the room, pulling his sleeve down over his hand as he touched the doorknob.

“Oi, where are you going?” Mammon called after him.

“To take a nice hot sanitizing shower!” The demon of lust slammed the door to the dining hall as you watched more dust sprites dance down from the air. They twirled and pirouetted right over Levi. His nose twitched and he raised his elbow to cover his face as he let out a sneeze.

Levi, the only one who had been quiet this far, finally let out a long groan. He glanced down at his hands fearfully, as if they had been covered with blood. “No… No! No, no, no, I’m sick, I knew it! Of course it would be me! I’m gross and miserable and… do you know how long it takes to fully clean a keyboard?!”

Satan rested his head back in his chair, closing his eyes in annoyance. The ruckus upstairs had gotten worse. It was difficult to tell just from audio alone who Lucifer was wrangling. Maybe both Beel and Belphie at once?… Normally, Satan would work on figuring the little mystery out, but it seemed as if he’d met his limit already. People were fist-fighting, two people were having meltdowns, and it was only breakfast. The intellectual usually had no problem going to classes, enjoyed them more than others actually, and yet the look on his face screamed truancy. “Levi, I doubt you’re sick, you never leave your room,” Satan reasoned.

“I told you all, I think he snuck into my room a little while back! One of my figures was moved! I bet Mammon got his sticky fingers over everything! He gave me the cold!”

Add accusations onto the daily list. They all might end up going though their daily atrocities before lunch today. Now the only three brothers left at the table were verbally sparring, one tense word away from physically— You frowned as your food ended up on the far side of the room along with the table. You thought too soon. Unfortunately, this sort of scenario happened often. So, you excused yourself, knowing none of them were listening, expertly dodging a plate as it whirled past. The dish struck against the wall a few inches from you, luckily not shattering. It clattered to the floor as a waffle slowly slid downwards. While you were still unharmed and food-free, you left the dining room. After wandering the halls trying to find a safe and silent place, you sat yourself on the stone steps of the entryway. You’d just wait for the multiple battles to die down. There was screaming downstairs, crashing upstairs, the whole house in chaos once again.

“Demons…” you sighed. --

Lucifer confirmed it. Beel and Belphie…both of them had caught the cold, and the eldest had spent the past hour or so attempting to force them into taking some medicine. He had succeeded naturally, and you shuddered a bit to think about the sort of tactics he employed, but when all was said and done, he had taken the time to seek you out. It was clear to you that even with all his power and prowess…he was exhausted. With Beel’s physical power and Belphie’s cunning, it seems even Pride had broken a bit of a sweat. There was still plenty of Student Council catchup to be done too… and now he had the twin’s work to start on. He needed a helping hand, and while he didn’t express it bluntly, he did ask for your assistance.

Apparently they were calm now, the medicine lulling and sedating them, so you could see them freely without worry of them tearing you or the house apart. Lucifer still addressed you with a bit of concern. “You’ve been on the brunt of all of this.” On one hand, he appreciated the work you had done. On the other… “I’m concerned for your health. Diavolo was fairly confident you couldn’t get infected, but we still don’t know for certain…” His voice drifted, slightly disappointed in himself, feeling like there was more he should be doing. “Regardless, the last thing we need is for you to fall ill as well.” You persuaded him that if you hadn’t gotten sick yet, you were sure you were immune. You’d been in direct contact with nearly all of them and hadn’t so much as sneezed. Lucifer wasn’t entirely convinced, obviously mentally preparing for the worst of outcomes, but he let you do what you needed to do. And that was taking care of the two youngest.

Homemade soup; the medicine for the soul or so people said. Something comforting and filling yet easy for the stomach. With Satan’s assistance, you concocted the most soothing meal you had ever made. Two steaming bowls were settled on an elegant silver tray and brought it up to the twins room. The door to their bedroom had a golden emblem ingrained in the wood. A moon encircling a sun, resembling the same individual symbols above both their beds. You carefully balanced the tray on your hip for just a moment as you softly tapped your knuckles against the smooth wood. Unlike the other brothers you had cared for so far, someone actually opened the door for you for a change.

Beel looked down at you, eyes heavy and slightly reddened. He was wearing a faded orange t-shirt and some black shorts. Heat radiated off of him in nauseating droves. If you had thought the other brothers had burnt up, nothing compared to Beel’s temperature. Even just standing beside him made you dizzy. As if hellfire was roaring through his veins. His shirt stuck to the skin around his torso, sweat beading down his forehead. His abs and muscles were clearly shown through the fabric, but he didn’t seem to mind. He rubbed one of his eyes with a hand, not even focusing on the soup bowls. “MC, what’re you doing here?”

You lifted up the tray with both hands and presented the meal you made with him. The creamy broth with hearty vegetables and noodles would surely make him feel better. “Soup!” You exclaimed quietly, feeling a mite proud of what you’d created. “You never came down for breakfast so…” You must be hungry, you kept the last part to yourself.

He frowned deeply, being rather dismissive. “I’m not hungry, and Belphie’s asleep.” A simple glance past Beel’s body confirmed that there was indeed a lump in Belphie’s bed. Many lumps in fact. There must’ve been plenty new additions to his pillow collection. “I’m sorry you went through the trouble,” Beel sighed, his arm raised to shut the door. Your attention snapped away from Belphie, back to the demon at hand. Was he shutting you out? Really? He had never done that, ever. All of his other brothers, sure, but him? He always had his door and his arms wide open for you at all times. Your leg served as a quick wedge, feeling your knee temporarily painfully pressed between door and frame. As soon as he realized he was hurting you, the door was thrown back open.

“Beel wait, please, you haven’t eaten all day! How are you going to give your body enough strength to heal if you don’t give it any fuel?” You looked up at him expectantly, trying to convey the care and worry you held for him through your eyes. Beel always advocated for taking care of your body. Those words you shared were the ones he had used on you once before. He was somehow always aware of what you had eaten and when. Same for his brothers. Sure, his sin might take over and he might accidentally eat your food, but he still determined to make sure everyone he cared for was well fed. It was about time you returned the favor.

“But the medicine…” He pressed one hand to his gut, his nose wrinkling up at the mention of food. His normally sturdy legs wobbled as he stumbled a bit, gripping the end of the door-frame for balance. The usual glow in his countenance had gone dull. It broke your heart. Beel seemed to always be strong, always be positive, always have a smile on his face when it came to food and family. Now, he just seemed out of it, eager to head back to bed with both you and proper sustenance on the other side of the door. Curse this tray for occupying both of your hands. You wanted to go wrap him up in your arms and make him feel protected and cared for… even if he was much bigger than you were.

“The medicine might be why you feel sick to your stomach in the first place. You didn’t happen to eat anything before Lucifer gave it to you, did you?” Your words brought his eyes up from staring at the floor and back to you. Orange strands of his hair were freed from the skin on his forehead as he shook his head to your question. An answer wasn’t quite necessary anyway, from the fighting you heard and Lucifer’s brief description, the older brother forced the medicine down both the twins throats before they had a chance to protest. You lifted the tray back up near Beel’s face. The contents of the bowls sloshed enough to almost drip over the edge. “You might feel better if you eat. Even just a little? I… made it for both of you.”

It wasn’t often you attempted to employ the puppy-eyed look. However, it seemed necessary in this instance. All these demons were weak to you, and you knew it. You could only hope it was enough this time… Beel was stuck having an intense internal debate. The door in his hand was creaking open and shut while he decided if he wanted to let you in or not. If he wanted to eat or not… Your heart sank as he seemed to come to the conclusion to prevent you from entering, the door almost clicking back into place to leave you in an empty hallway. If this was what he wanted, could you really change his mind? Just as you were about to leave, the door was pulled back wide open, his eyes a little watery as he made it up in his mind that he could never shut you out like that. Your chest swelled as he let you in, shutting the door quietly behind you.

The room was almost consumed in pitch darkness as soon as the entrance closed. The only light source seemed to be coming from Beel’s side of the room emanating from the screen of his D.D.D. on his nightstand. Crossing the room, you waited until the demon climbed back onto his mattress, sitting up while he pulled the covers over his legs. Not wanting to speak as to disturb Belphie, you extended one finger from the tray handle and pointed at his bed as a question. As he nodded, you settled by his hip, placing the tray on his lap. His blankets were soft, and with a stroke of your hand, you smoothed out some of the wrinkles.

The sight of the soup made Beel grimace at first. He was hesitant, but it was clear he was starving. His sin was tearing him up inside. He was only prolonging the pain. “Is my cooking really that bad?” You frowned, embarrassed, unsure if his reaction was towards your talents in the kitchen or the state of his sickly body.

“No, it’s not that. I just…” Gluttony couldn’t quite find the words to describe what he was feeling. But you understood well enough. You’d been sick before in your life. You knew what it was like to feel the hunger pains alongside the nausea. Eating made you feel worse. Not eating made you feel like hell. He must be miserable. This was probably a rare feeling for him.

“Take it slow,” you whispered, your hand coming up to rub his shoulder.

After taking a minute to mentally prepare, he took your advice to heart, starting with a simple spoonful. He blew away the steam and took the smallest bite- or slurp- you’d ever seen him have. He chewed on some of the softened vegetables before swallowing. There was no need to ask how it was. His head raised back up, small tears making their way down his cheeks. He leaned in towards you, his chin almost resting on your shoulder. “It’s…so delicious. May I…eat it?”

You chuckled, grinning with relief as a little bit of color came back to his face, his expression not looking so pained. Sounded like he was already breathing easier too. “Yes, Beel, I made it for you.”

He sat up away from you, the happy glow returned to his eyes as he went to work not only downing the bowl for him, but the bowl for Belphie as well. You made a mental note to come take care of the other twin later. Hopefully he wouldn’t end up sleeping for days on end like he’d been known to do a few times before… With one of the twins looking already worlds better with some warm food in his stomach, you went to go stand up to leave, but two big arms wrapped around your body to hold you in place. The hot skin on Beel’s cheek pressed against your forehead as he sighed in relief.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

You rested your head against his chest as he held you even tighter. “You’re welcome, Beel. I’ll be your personal chef till you feel better.”

With a contented sigh, Beel buried his nose in your hair, his hands gripping your shirt. He leaned back against his headboard, bringing you along with him as you almost laid on top of him. It didn’t seem like he was going to let you go anytime soon. He closed his eyes and with one hand he flipped his D.D.D over so there was nothing but blackness in the room. Relaxed lungs brought in deep even breaths. He was still ridiculously hot, but not unbearably so anymore. His words devolved into sleepy mumbles. “You’re so much better than any food in the world…”

The twins were sick, Lucifer was working himself ragged, and the rest of the brothers were avoiding their siblings like…well…like the plague. You never initially intended to become a nurse, but how could you sit by and do nothing while the demons around you that you had come to care for suffered? And, if you were being honest with yourself, you were thankful that there was something you could do to help around for once. It wasn’t often at all where you were put in a situation where you could be the protector, the helper, the one they relied on. However, as much as you liked that feeling, you hoped this spreading sickness would end with Beel and Belphie. The constant care you were dishing out was starting to leave you more exhausted than normal.

Telling anyone about your state though would most likely end in immediate termination of your new career in demon caretaking. So you kept it to yourself. These brothers were now leaning on you harder than ever, including the ones who had already been sick. Just the thought of all their faces, pale and sick in bed, lighting up at the sight of you entering the room as you pet their heads sent tingles down your spine. You wanted to take care of them…all of them, forever.

You violently shook your own head as you gripped the handle to your bedroom. What am I thinking? Is the Florence Nightingale trope really true? The door gently creaked open as you stepped inside.

Eternal moonlight had it perks, but being able to tell time was never one of them. What hour was it now? Your day had been occupied fulfilling several requests from the many members of the household. The typically hungry demon would now only eat food you made for him, and while you did promise to be his personal chef, it was beginning to overwhelm you. Not only chef, but you’d been hired in several other new ‘departments’. You’d become the new mailman, bringing packages from the front door to the otaku with severe hypochondriac tendencies. The librarian and storyteller for the bookworm who was milking his symptoms for as long as he could, partially because he truly enjoyed your company, but also because he enjoyed his brother’s complaints as he kept you to himself. The beauty product tester and fashion assistant for Asmo who refused to let any of his brothers touch him with a ten foot pole. The lawyer for Mammon who was apparently determined to get himself into trouble more so than not lately. And also Lucifer’s new temp secretary. You had so many reminders set on your phone for things he needed to get done. But the eldest was determined not to let things fall apart just because a few of his brothers were ill.

Should you be getting paid for this?…

Tired feet were dragged across the floor of your bedroom as you made your way towards your bed. It called to you; a sleepy siren’s song. The blankets reminiscent of a sweet melody, the pillows the alluring notes. With the last of your energy, you swiftly kicked off your shoes, letting them roll and settle crookedly on the hardwood floor. You let yourself fall face first onto your bed, the springs bouncing you up and down gently from the sudden impact. A moan escaped your lips, one you never had the intention for, but your body betrayed you. Laying down felt nice… Rain and wind outside started to kick up, the sound brushing and pouring against your window. It was like the night was comforting you, the weather speaking to you softly. It’s okay to get some rest.

Without bothering to change into pajamas, you crawled under your covers, pulling the blanket tightly near your face. Muscles and joints in your body started to ache, and you furrowed your brows as you shut your eyes. Had you really worked all that much? What exactly did you do that forced your body to feel this sore? You let out a sigh and brushed your cheek against your pillow. Already, the back of your mind was buzzing with sleep, and even if you tried to come up with some specific answer explaining why your body hurt in places you didn’t even know existed, you wouldn’t be able to. This would probably been the fastest you fell asleep in a long time, conking out without a second thought. —-

Fire haunted your dreams that night, the heat making you lightheaded. Your subconscious body struggled to navigate the obstacles of this place. The House of Lamentation was on fire, by reasons unknown, as dreams often do. You were frantically looking for the brothers, your mind thoroughly convinced they all still resided inside. Lips moved as you could’ve sworn you were screaming their names, but the roaring sounds of the flames muffled your voice. No matter how hard you squeezed your lungs, no sound came out. You felt yourself collapse to the ground, unable to move. You were hot. Too hot. You-

A low scraping noise shocked your body awake. It took you a moment to reel in reality, to settle yourself back into your senses, the dream drifting far behind you now. A squeak sounded. A harsh squealing grind of two hard surfaces rubbing against each other. It left a strange feeling in your teeth and pumped your mind with adrenaline. You sat up in bed immediately, the alarm for danger blaring on high alert.

It was hard to see through all the darkness. Clouds had covered the moonlight, leaving little to no light to guide your way. The only thing you could see with your adjusting vision was a shadow creeping around your room. It staggered. Drifting around as if searching for something, a deep inhuman growl rumbling through it’s disfigured body. Your fingers trembled as the sound echoed in your mind. How had it gotten in the house? There were no distinct features you could make out, the creature didn’t have any limbs. It was one giant blob, dragging itself across the floor, moving and knocking over the chairs in your room as it did so. That must’ve been the cause of the sound that woke you up. Was it hunting for something?…

A few options for survival bubbled up in your mind. Screaming for help wasn’t a smart decision. One loud noise, and the creature would more than likely beeline it straight for you. Besides, with the demon brother’s sporadic schedules, you weren’t sure anyone would hear you anyway. Your room was all the way down near the kitchen…your roommates blissfully asleep upstairs. You had half a mind to text someone to save you, but if you got caught in the light from your screen, that might also cause an instant game over. However, that did remind you to lean over to put your device on silent. You would not be that stupid survivor in the horror trope that got killed due to a notification. Oh, if only you had given in to Lucifer’s odd request to install some sort of security system. You had denied it. Said it sounded more like a baby monitor than anything else. Now look where it got you.

The intruder seemed distracted and confused, just as blinded as you were in the darkness. Maybe you could make a run for it… it seemed rather sluggish. But assuming things could get you killed. But what other options did you have?… Right now, the thing was finally drifting away from the table and towards the middle of the room, inching ever closer to your bed. The luxury of time was not something you had. It was settled. You’d book it out of here and run to someone else’s room… Just look for an opportunity… The wailing mass was getting closer. Just a few more seconds. Your heart was rattling harder than the wind against your windows. Just a little bit farther! Heat was waving off the creature and onto you, reminding you of your dream. It moaned unnaturally, shuffling slowly, wandering without a purpose. You quietly swung your legs over the end of the bed so you could finally make your dash to freedom. The blood pumping through your head was deafening.

A thud reverberated throughout the room, making you jump, freezing your body in place. The creature had collapsed on your floor. It slowly squirmed, writhing, it’s shape melting away before a humanoid hand poked out of it’s frame.

“O…w…”

The familiar voice washed over you in a refreshing shower of familiarity. You pressed a hand to your chest as you took in a deep relaxing breath. Although you didn’t waste too much time before rushing to the floor, kneeling beside the shape. The shell it had shed felt soft. You grabbed the surface with both of your hands, peeling it back to reveal a confused disoriented demon.

“Belphie…” You nearly went off on him, ready to spend the rest of the night giving him a Lucifer-style lecture. But, too tired to do something like that, you simply wrapped your arms around the seventh brother. Eyes rolled in your head, embarrassed and annoyed by your own paranoia and stupidity. Although that sort of paranoia had let you live in the Devildom thus far. That and a ridiculous amount of luck… Though if the other brothers found out you mistook Belphie and a puffy duvet for some sort of lumbering undead slug-monster, they would never let you live it down. Speaking of which…you suddenly remembered that he’d taken quite a tumble. “Are you okay?” He never answered, but you quickly found the source of his fall. The shoes you had left haphazardly on the floor. You bit your lip in a bit of shame. Before they could claim another victim, you snagged your shoes and tucked them away in a not so trippable place. Then you returned your focus near the lump. “Belphie? What’re you doing here?” You placed a soft hand on his shoulder, although as you did, you nearly reeled back. Sloth was burning up.

“…anna…o…ome…” He mumbled, not focused on you at all, his eyes were even still closed. Chipped nails clawed at your rugs, pushing himself on his arms just to collapse again. Your chest squeezed as you grabbed his arms. Convinced he was still asleep, you tried shaking him, feeling the palms of your hands tingle against his unhealthy and infernal temperature.

“Belphie!”

None of your attempts to wake him up were working, so you turned your attention to the only thing you could do. Bringing his heat down. The blanket you had tried tugging off of him was somehow twisted around his limbs. After turning him on his back, you worked on unraveling him, feeling his hands paw at your body. He was deep in some fever dream, one bad scene away from thrashing… Frantically, you plucked a pillow from off your own bed and tucked it under his head. You brushed sticky strands of hair off his forehead, watching him mumble some more.

“..illith…Beel…”

Might as well have heard your own heart crack right then, but you couldn’t let it get to you. Feeling against the walls, you moved around your room till you found the light switch. Once you could see, you went right to work. Thankfully, due to your efforts before, you now kept extra medicine and supplies in your room. It was actually Satan who suggested it, and while you thought it had been a silly idea, now you were grateful.

When you returned to Belphie’s side with all your items, you almost regretted turning the light on. Panting, his mouth open to try and breathe, lips so dry they were nearly bloody. His skin was covered in splotches of color, sweat dripping from his forehead, yet he couldn’t stop shivering. You placed a bowl of water, rags, medicine, bottles of water, and a glass of only ice beside you on the floor. As soon as you returned to his vicinity, his limbs moved to get up again. You settled a rag in the water then gently pushed him back to the floor with a single hand. He contorted and attempted to roll as you quickly wrung out the rag, pressing it against his forehead, keeping him against the ground using your own body. In only a few seconds, the cloth was completely warm. You dipped it back in, feeling a bit of panic rise in your lungs as Belphie continued to pant.

“Breathe…Belphie, breathe.” You rubbed his chest as you held him down, cooling off his face and neck with the damp cloth. You didn’t know how long you kept up this motion. Comfort, dip, cool. Soothe, wipe, cool. Over and over as the fire in him refused to leave. He needed to wake up to take the medicine, you weren’t sure you could get it down his throat in this condition. You let your hand drift from his chest for just a second to check your D.D.D. It was now four in the morning. A full hour of this, by your estimations. Should you text someone? Were you doing the right thing? Were you just making things worse? You fought with yourself and your emotions for a few more minutes, but then felt your worry assuage. It seemed as if he broke though the worst all in a second. Belphie’s breathing wasn’t as ragged as he no longer gasped for breath. He was still moving a bit though, wearily and weakly.

“Ahh…haah…” He wheezed, and for what felt like the hundredth time, you rubbed his cheeks with the wet fabric, brushing your hand back and forth across his chest. He raised his arms and grabbed your shirt and sleeve, trying to pull you close in his sleep.

“Shh, it’s alright.” His hands were trembling against you, but finally, he seemed to hear your words. The smallest slit of his eyes was visible as he did his best to open them.

“M…C…”

Overjoyed tears stung your eyes. The rag in your hand dropped to the floor as you caressed his face with your hands. He still wasn’t quite awake or aware, but he was attentive enough to try to pull himself up, still clutching tightly onto your clothes. The first thing on your mind was medicine. You filled up the measured cap and brought it to him, tilting his head back with the brace of one of your hands. Thankfully--or perhaps worriedly--he took it without questioning it. He grimaced a little, but the bitter and awful taste of the medicine brought him more into reality.

“Where?” He released your sleeve as he rubbed his eyes.

“That’s not important right now, can you stand? We should get you to bed.” You stroked his head, but he didn’t even seem to notice. He just nodded, and with your assistance, he almost managed to fully stand. To keep from falling over, he leaned his body against you. It was all you could do to keep from collapsing yourself. Fortunately, your bed was right here, and you let him plop into your space. A sigh left his shallow lungs.

With what little energy he had left, he practically clawed himself towards the far side of the bed turning in several agonizing increments to face you. He held out his hands and squeaked out your name. “MC…”

Your emotions hitched in your chest as you watched him beg for you. There was still a mess on the floor… but you left it where it was as long as the universe was done sending demons tumbling through your room. You rushed over to the light switch and turned the brightness off. You slid into the extra space Belphie left for you, taking him into your arms and feeling him immediately get comfortable. At least he was no longer boiling. He was a little too warm, but nothing life threatening.

He curled up by your side, as you pulled up the covers over both of you. With a few sleepy nudges, he had his head tucked under your chin. You could hear air rattle around in his chest, so you reached around his body and rubbed his back, and in return, he squeezed you like one of his many pillows. All at once, the adrenaline and panic left your body, leaving you winded and exhausted. You were unsure if it was Belphie’s Sin or simply your body at it’s breaking point, but you couldn’t keep yourself awake any longer. Before you could make sure he fell asleep first, your eyelids crashed closed as you passed out next to him.

Normalcy slowly began to trickle back into the House of Lamentation. The twins were feeling better, most everyone was returning to classes, routines were falling back into place. Everyone was finally convinced this was all over. Even Lucifer, who liked to account for the worst, was acting rather optimistic lately. Although you yourself, who had loved soaking up every sickly cuddle and embarrassing (and rather blackmailable) favors, was secretly a bit disappointed. It was great that they were all doing better! But…perhaps part of you liked feeling needed.

Lucifer, Mammon, and Satan, were all well past this illness, and with Levi and Asmo doing everything they could to avoid their siblings, it was assumed that this misadventure had burnt itself out with the twins. Although, one person in the household was determined not to let this go. Levi was doing his best to convince everyone that he was extremely ill.

“I searched my symptoms on SpiderWeb MD! If I’m not sick I’ve been cursed and I only have a few days left to live!” he would complain. His siblings were all convinced that Envy had caught nothing but a terrible case of hypochondria. At one point, he’d even sent his last will through the group chat should he perish an untimely demise. A lot of his stuff went to you, which was deeply touching considering he had a hard enough time letting you look at his stuff much less touch it. Music records would go to Lucifer, manga to Satan, cosplay outfits to Asmo, his special snacks to Beel, and his body pillows to Belphie. Nothing was left for Mammon, which caused a small riot in itself.

It had been several days since anyone had seen or heard any trace of Levi. Everything he needed could be ordered on Akuzon, and he’d been taking classes exclusively online. It got to the point where everyone had been certain he’d never leave his room again. Of course, the eldest had checked on his little brother regardless, but he’d been written off with a clean bill of health. After that, Lucifer had been convinced he was just craving attention. Levi would hole himself away over the vaguest sign of symptoms and not come out till he was ready. No one believed him. For a while, they had you convinced as well, assuring you that he hadn’t been sick for centuries. There was nothing to be worried about. However, you still carried that worry with you, that infuriating kind of angelic trust that drove the brothers crazy. But ‘what if’, you wondered, what if he’s sitting in his room right now with no one to help him?

The only semblance of interaction you’d had with Levi in the past week was dropping off his Akuzon packages to the front of his door. You’d knock, be forced to ramble off an impossibly confusing password, and then leave for him to drag his packages inside. The first time you’d done it, you’d waited, only to watch him pop his head meekly out the door. Upon seeing you, he squeaked and promptly slammed the door shut. Now he would wait for you to fully depart before grabbing his loot. But today, you were determined to see him. Sure he was a demon, sure everyone had promised he was fine, but something left you uneasy. You needed to see with your own eyes that he was okay.

Making your way down the hall, continuously shifting your arms to keep things balanced, you approached Levi’s room with several packages in hand. The number of items he purchased was getting larger and more concerning with each delivery. Seeing as your hands were occupied, you gently kicked his door three times with the tip of your shoe. You crouched down low near the floor, placing his items neatly in a pile. Stiffly, you uttered the strange password Levi encouraged you to memorize to confirm the drop-off and assure him there was no one else in sight.

“The water dragon, caretaker of the mystic lakes, looks up to the heavens…” You paused, waiting for his response. A few seconds. Then a minute. You couldn’t help but raise a brow as a little jolt went through your chest with worry. Typically by now, Levi would be in the middle of his segment of the password. This all was routine. Taking a few steps forward, you pressed your ears to the cold wood of his door. All was silent. From the top? You walked a few steps away just to round the door again, making your footsteps heavier, louder. Then you attempted the entire process again. Using your fist this time, you knocked loudly against the entrance to his fortress of solitude. Uttering the incantation once more, you found yourself almost shouting the code phrase. There was still no response.

Throwing caution to the wind, you gave yourself access into his room. You winced once the light from inside hit your face, expecting some sort of curse or hex to flood your body. Air soothed your lungs when you discovered you were relatively unharmed. It didn’t require any amount of searching to locate the demon. Curled up, in demon form…at the bottom of his fish tank. Of course, you knew these people were not quite people, but that didn’t stop your stomach from flipping and your human brain to somersault over itself in panic. That wasn’t normal! You stammered over your words, dashing forward to press your palms against the glass.

“Levi! What the-” You cut yourself off as you looked around for anything that could assist you with this…emergency. Underwater! He was underwater!

How many times have you been scolded for acting before thinking? Too many to count, especially down here where the wrong misstep could kill you easily. Did you still end up jumping into the fish tank? Yes. Yes, you did. Using Levi’s desk and shelves, you climbed up, throwing your body into the water. It wasn’t as cold as you expected it to be based on how chilly Levi kept his room. It was a bit nippy, but nothing terrible. You sunk down, grabbing the horns sticking from Levi’s head. God, how were you going to pull him out of here? This tank was the size of his wall! As soon as you began to tug on the horns, Levi’s eyes snapped open. His tail wrapped around your waist once he recognized your face. You ended up getting flung out of the tank, dangling in the air a few inches above the ground as the chill of the oxygen on your wet skin formed goosebumps all over your body. Levi gripped the edge of the glass.

“What?! I-I- that was totally- MC! I can’t believe-” He settled you to the ground as he climbed his way out of the water, almost slipping and falling from the tank. A large pool formed on the floor beneath your feet. As he tried to find his words, gasping in shock at finding you in Henry 2.0’s tank, he started coughing. He bowled over, his arm covering his mouth as his lungs squeaked and wheezed as he seemed to cough uncontrollably. Levi’s chest began convulsing so painfully, tears started speckling from his eyes, only to get swept up into the moisture already streaming down his face. His tail, still around your body, clutched to you tighter, like an involuntary form of comfort for him.

“Levi…” You approached the demon of Envy, both of you dripping wet, and you pressed your forehead to his. Despite having soaked in water for however long he had been in there, he was burning. His little gasp at your form of contact drove him further into his coughing fit. You apologetically rubbed his back, helping him catch his breath while you scrambled around to get dry clothes, nearly losing your footing on the wet tile.

“Don’t!” He pleaded with you as you pulled open his drawers.

“You need dry clothes, you’ll get even sicker if you’re soaking!” His face started to flush as some color came to his cheeks. He had yet to relinquish his tail from around your person, wrapping around you tightly like the firm squeeze of a hug, following you around like a drenched puppy. “Why in the world were you in the fish tank anyway?!” A proper scolding was in order. After all, how ridiculous had that been? “I was worried you’d drowned…” You muttered that last part to yourself as you plucked out a t-shirt with the decal on the front from some anime you couldn’t recall. A random pair of shorts was added to the mix, throwing the dry outfit to him alongside a much needed towel. Clutching the articles of clothing to his chest, he blushed even harder. The muscles of his tail forced you to turn with your face to the wall as you felt the soft scales finally slink away. You could hear him stumble around as he struggled to get himself dressed. He wasn’t acting like normal.

At that moment, all the guilt that had been building up these past few days washed over you. He really had been sick after all. How long had he been here alone, taking care of himself because no one would believe him enough to take care of him? But Lucifer had said he’d been checked… Did he get sick after that? Or was there something someone missed? Although, the when didn’t quite matter now. No chance fretting too much over something you couldn’t change. You had the chance to help him now.

“I was hot…” Levi answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Then next time hop in the bath! Don’t go scuba diving in a fish tank! A fish tank, Levi!”

It was as if you could feel him wincing at your firm words. It wasn’t often you raised your voice at them. Envy wasn’t taking the tone too well, shuddering as he inhaled broken quivering breaths. He didn’t have an answer for you on why he made the decision he did. Rationalization probably went out of his mind once the fever set in. Had he really been that hell-bent on not leaving his room? “You can…look now.” Turning away from the wall, you found yourself tutting. Levi had put the clothes over his wet form, the towel simply lying on top of his head, the horns holding it comically up away from his body.

“…I should’ve been here to help you.” You placed your hands over the dry cloth, getting it away from his branching horns, gently rubbing into his skin. Too weak to shoo you away or say anything about it, he simply covered his face with his hands as you used the towel to dry him off. “But I’m here now…and you don’t have to worry as long as I’m here. I’ll take care of you.” You started with his hair, working your way down to his arms. Your gentle motions, your soft tone, your overall comfort, it was enough to weaken his walls of anxiety. A few steps and he was right next to you. He slumped, letting his head fall into the crook of your neck. Your skin was still cool from the water, and he sighed as his forehead came into contact with it. His tail ended up curling around you once more, clutching your torso tightly as he gripped onto your clothes. “Come on,” you urged him, leading him over to his bedding. It was better than the fish tank only by a small margin, containing a ton of pillows and several plush blankets to act as a cushion inside. At least it was dry…

“Sorry…” Levi gasped, as he lifted himself into his nest. The tickle of his word turned into more harsh coughs. You leaned over the porcelain walls of the tub to pet his head. He nearly melted into your hands. He curled up, nestling further into the cushions as you pulled a blanket partially over him.

“Don’t be sorry. I should be sorry. I shouldn’t have doubted you, I should’ve been by your side by square one. That’s what people who care about you do…” You gave him a sweet smile as he teared up a little, pulling a body pillow close to his chest as he covered his face. He simply gave you a hum in response. “I’ll go get some medicine and bring in those packages for you, and then I’ll be right back.” Taking a step back, you felt the tail wrapped around your body gripping you tighter. “Levi,” you cooed, petting the smooth scales with your hand. “I’ll be right back, let me go.” He reluctantly complied, silently pulling his tail into the tub with him, curling around his own body for support. Running your fingers through your still wet hair, you went back out to the hall, dragging Levi’s packages into his room before setting off to grab some medicine. A quick sneeze shuttered your body, leaving you lightheaded as you leaned against the wall to keep yourself upright. A chill ran through your spine. Shaking your head, you picked up the pace to your bedroom to change into warm and dry clothes.

As soon as you were no longer dripping, you grabbed the medicine bottle from off the table in your room. Collectively, the household had almost gone through the entire container, leaving only a few servings left. You bit your lip and then briskly headed back to Levi. In the short amount of time you’d been gone, it seemed as if he already drifted off to sleep. You shut the door behind you as softly as you could manage, then came over to the sleeping otaku. All these demons, you recalled, claimed to be so scary and intimidating, yet all of them managed to look something like this. Levi was clutching his tail, his forehead pressed against the coolness of the side of the tub. It felt like a crime to wake him, but you brushed your hand against his cheek anyway.

“Levi… Levi?” You called, watching his eyelids flitter as they slowly opened. “Here, take this, it’ll help you feel better.” You held a capful of the remedy to his lips. A flicker of stubbornness and defiance flashed in his eyes, but he knew he couldn’t say no to you, especially with how nicely you were treating him. He’d take it with a smile if you had asked him too. Placing the medicine aside, you turned down the lights in his room, watching the reflection of the water dance across the ceiling. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Levi?”

You heard him squeak before he spoke. “You cuddled with each of my brothers…”

Stifling a chuckle, you merely blinked at him. “You want me to cuddle with you?”

He used his arm to cover his eyes. “Y-you said it, not me!”

“Move over then,” you grinned, lifting your leg over the lid of the tub to make your way in. It was a bit awkward, being a bathtub and all. There wasn’t as much space as you expected. The sloped sides guided you into Levi’s body, where you could feel every muscle inside him tense. “Alright, here we go, sleep will make you feel better.” You rested your head right next to his, noses almost touching. His lip twitched in embarrassment, but once more he pressed his forehead against your neck, exhaling deeply as he allowed his body to relax. “There you go…” You rubbed his back as he got in close. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Time as Levi’s nurse passed fairly quickly. Apparently regular doses of constant attention was the best kind of medicine for a touch-starved demon. He was still weaker than anyone would enjoy, but he was back in front of his screens in no time. Although, every so often he’d give you a side glance and rattle his body with a loud cough. Sometimes he would do this and cause the other previous afflicted to do the same. You’d even caught Lucifer clearing his throat in your vicinity once. They were all milking this to the last drop. Aside from the pseudo-symptoms, at last, it was all over. Surely, tonight you’d finally let your sore exhausted body get some rest with the relief in knowing that whatever demon illness had been plaguing the brothers was finally gone… Even cases in the Devildom were dropping. The whispers at RAD were returning to normal discussions. The worst was over.

That was… until everyone in the House of Lamentation was awoken one night to a blood-curdling scream. You awoke in a sweat, hair on your arms standing up on end. Before you could comprehend anything, you dashed out to the hallway, apparently the last to join the stunned members of the household. Mammon was still attempting to find balance on his feet, cursing about one of his legs being asleep. Levi rubbed his eyes, and you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. He was supposed to be regaining his strength. Satan looked more intrigued than anything. Beel was ready for action, but, surprisingly enough, Belphie looked more awake than anyone before you. These were his hours, you supposed. Lucifer was a strange combination of furious due to having his rest be interrupted--he barely gets enough as it is--and concerned.

“MC…” The eldest instinctively took a step towards you. “Oh, thank Diavolo,” he sighed, pressing his hand to his forehead, quelling the stress headache, thankful you weren’t the cause of the haunting wail. “We’ve got…” He began the head check, ushering his brothers closer to him much like a teacher making sure the whole class was there for the field trip. The realization hit you at the same moment it hit him. “Asmo.” No one hesitated in dashing to his room, the adrenaline pumping in you more as the sound of shattering glass and splintering wood reached your ears. Worry clamped your throat shut, forgetting how to properly breathe as the group sprinted down the halls.

Mammon was the first to reach the door, throwing all caution to the wind as he immediately kicked the wood in. The entrance hit the floor with a loud bang, coming clean off it’s hinges, and you attempted to peer in. A firm hand grabbed you by the back of the collar and yanked you back. Lucifer pulled you behind his body. Just in time too, for just at that moment, an entire dresser launched itself from the bedroom, smacking against Mammon, pinning him against the back wall of the hallway. Every square inch of you was desperate to scream, to run to Greed, but the demon of pride had you held tightly against his body. Mammon got up off the floor, shaking his head. There were no visible injuries, in fact, he was barely even bothered, just frustrated.

“For the love of... Asmo!” The second brother growled, and another shriek echoed through the halls, shaking the windows. You brought your hands up to cover your ears, and Lucifer quickly handed you off to Levi.

“What’s happening?” The strength of your legs began to waver, and, for a split second, the eldest’s eyes grew wide at your distress. Of course you wouldn’t know, how could you? Sometimes he forgets you’re only a human.

Placing a gentle hand on your head, he let out another sleep-deprived groan, pinching the bridge of his nose whilst his siblings dashed into the chaos. “It’s what we all feared. Asmo has fallen ill. It happens once every few centuries, and every time it happens, it gets—“ Something else broke to pieces, shrapnel embedding itself in the door-frame. A mess. “Stay with Levi. We’ll work on calming him down.” With that, he turned and swiftly joined the fray. A swirl of blue magic surrounded the door, lifting it from it’s position, settling back against the frame to shield you out while shouts and bangs rattled the ground. All you could do was blink in frightful awe and flinch at every awful sound.

“C-come on, it’s best if we go…N-now. Like, right now,” Levi breathed, his voice shaking with terror. You raised an eyebrow, trying to piece together why he sounded as if he was in danger.

You didn’t have the time to question why. The wall separating the room from the hallway nearly crumbled, bricks and rubble coating the floor. Peachy eyes glowed harshly against the dark of night. “Levi…” The figure growled maliciously as the dust settled. “You did this to me…you all did this to me!” Ah, right. Of course the blame would lie with the most recently infected. And now you were standing right next to the target.

“Oi!”

In a swirl of motion, demons rushed to tackle him down, but not before the person behind the destruction began to lunge in yours and Levi’s direction. The third-born twisted his body, beginning to pull you behind him to shield you, but your body moved almost on its own. Tugging yourself out of Levi’s grip, you moved forward with an outstretched arm. “Asmo!” The palm of your hand came into contact with his chest. You felt the frantic beating of his heart. Everything seemed to stop all at once. The rampage put itself at pause as Asmo looked at you with wide eyes, his hands still raised, razor sharp claws atoms away from brushing against your skin. With your hand on his chest, you could tell that he’d stopped breathing. You took this moment to observe his face. Nose red, eyes puffy from angry tears, overall looking drained, missing vibrancy. The glimmer you so often associated with Asmo was gone.

The demon of lust took one last moment to recollect his thoughts, gathering back his composure before giving a loud horrified gasp of a breath before his knees gave out, his body collapsing to the floor.

“Absolutely, positively, one of the worst decisions you’ve ever made!” You’d beg to differ, there was a list of misadventures you could bring to the table, but now was definitely not the time for that. “Did you even think?!” You tried to open your mouth but were cut short. “Don’t answer that.” Good call. Lucifer looked beyond frazzled, and as you watched him pace back and forth in front of you, you wondered if those were new grey strands in the fringes of his hair or if it was simply your imagination. He’d been stepping back and forth for so long, you’d almost gotten dizzy from the motion. Perfectly on beat. A living pendulum.

But Lucifer wasn’t the only one here to…critique your…survival response--or questionable lack thereof. “What do you do when you see an angry demon? Hm?” Real rich coming from Wrath. Satan’s eyebrow was twitching, but he was doing his utmost best to stay calm unlike his older brothers.

You lowered your head. “You run.”

“What do we not do?”

“…Confront them.” The blonde nodded, leaving it at that for the time being. With a quick scan around the room, he tilted his head and sat in a chair, biting back one of his usual retorts. Typically, he wouldn’t hesitate to be snippy, especially considering his sibling’s current behaviors, but he didn’t have the heart for it. Not right now when he was focusing hard on suppressing the bubbling rage of what he’d just observed. Levi was a dazed mess, sulking at his failed job as a bodyguard, slung over Beel’s shoulder, muttering endlessly. The demon of gluttony himself had yet to peel his sight from you since you’d been dragged back to your room. Had he even blinked? It was as if he was wary that, should he look away, even for a moment, you’d do something reckless again. To be fair, logically, what you’d done had been a rather idiotic move. In your defense, it was also dipping well past the early hours of the morning. It all still felt like a dream. They couldn’t hold it against you for not being at your peak… But, they were right. Had Asmo not been able to stop himself, who knows what the outcome would’ve been. You still weren’t quite sure of everything that had happened, but something had moved you, convinced you that if you just…reached out to him…

Turning your head to the side, you brushed your hand over the bump in the blankets where his arm was. As soon as he’d collapsed, both you and Asmo were briskly brought to your room. You’d been able to assist in tucking him under your covers for only a moment before being scolded six different ways. Belphie placed a fresh cold rag over Asmo’s forehead, meeting your eyes for just a second before snapping his head to look away from you with the slightest hint of a disappointed pout in his lips. Even the bratty youngest sibling was chastising you. And Mammon…Mammon was…dead silent, still as a stone, back turned to you as he pressed his face against the wall. If anything, that upset you the most.

Speaking loudly as to regain their attention, you apologized. “I’m sorry! I know it was dumb of me, but…” Asmo’s eyebrows scrunched, a painful moan rumbling in his throat. You adjusted your seated spot on the bed, sitting closer to his body, settled by his thigh. Placing your hand over the comforter covering his chest, you stroked up and down in a slow soothing rhythm. His head moved to find a cooler, more comfortable spot on the pillow, and with the comforting motion against his body, he went still with rest again. “He sounded heartbroken.”

The room fell silent, Lucifer stopped his pacing. Everyone’s shoulders slumped, and then finally Mammon spoke up. “Heartbroken?! That scream meant nothin’! He’s just being dramatic over his dumb face! Losing control like that…almost hurting you because he doesn’t look photo-ready… Nothing’s worth getting yourself killed over! Nothing!” Mammon’s words… sunk in the deepest. Or his tone did at least. He was truly upset with you. Lucifer raised his arm a bit towards Mammon, signaling to settle down. Mammon scoffed and turned again, letting it go.

“Okay… I get it… but enough worrying about me, you should be worried for your brother.” The fire of conflict was quickly snuffed out by your shining eyes and Asmo’s little whimpers.

Lucifer rolled his head around his shoulders and then rubbed away the little pang behind his temples. “I’ll go let Diavolo know of the situation. I’m sure after the last few weeks he won’t be surprised…” He grumbled something under his breath one last time before he left the room, D.D.D. in hand.

“I suppose I can do my best to help clean Asmo’s room. He might recover quicker in a familiar environment.” Satan got to his feet, stretching, cracking an eye open to look at Mammon before grabbing him by the back of his shirt. “And you’re going to help me.”

“O-oi! Why me?! Hold on! I haven’t said everything I needed to yet!” But his cries were ignored as the demon of wrath dragged him down the hallway.

Now you were left with the afflicted, the twins, and a still sorrowful Levi. They might not listen to you at the moment, but you had to try. “Beel, can you please take Levi to his room? And Belphie can you please make sure he goes to sleep?” The fiery-haired sibling nodded, shifting his older brother to his other shoulder. Belphie still had his head turned away from you. Your heart fell a bit. “Pretty please?”

He made the mistake of getting a quick peek of your pleading face. “You have to come with us.”

“But, we can’t just leave him.” You brushed the back of your hand against Asmo’s cheek, reeling back as the heat from him almost burnt you. Demonic bodies could reach some serious temperatures.

This only convinced Belphie to squint harder. “He’s dangerous.”

“You’re all dangerous and yet apparently it doesn’t seem to phase me anymore.” At times like these, you found standing your ground and just being stubborn was enough to win you plenty of debates with these eternal beings. Although you didn’t want to push your luck too much. They could physically remove you from the room if they so desired. Luckily, Belphie was much too tired to continue bickering.

“Fine, but you owe me.”

You beamed, coaxing a touch of pink in his cheeks. “Thank you!” He slinked away, his twin following after him with Levi in tow.

A frown stretched over your face. With the added noise gone, Asmo’s shallow wheezing breaths were all too apparent. You got to your feet, flipping the rag draped across his head to the other side, then padded over to the cupboard settled against the far side of the room. It opened with a slight squeak, causing you to wince as you glanced back over your shoulder to make sure your patient was still sleeping. Luckily, he didn’t stir, although for this to work, he might have to. You gripped the medicine bottle in your hand, giving it a slight shake. There was enough for perhaps one or two more administrations. Before you dealt with that issue, you quickly went to turn off the overhead light in your room, simply turning on a side lamp, a soft glow illuminating what you needed it to. Your eyes thanked you for the lessened strain. As you turned on the pads of your feet, you noticed Asmo was now on his side, facing away from you. With a few quiet steps, you were back at the bedside. “Asmo?”

Your fingers outstretched, reaching for his shoulder, but he would not let you near him. “Don’t look at me!” The voice was strong enough to push you back, falling back onto the floor. A high pitched noise caught your attention. The glass in your hand as well as your mirror on the other side of the room had a new thin crack in it.

The heart in your chest was pounding, but you tried to shake out of it. “Asmo, fighting me is taking up your strength.” Cradling the medicine bottle against your chest, you got back to your feet.

Asmo pulled the covers up over his head. “Don’t look at me, don’t look at me, don’t look at me!” You’d shifted your stance beforehand to keep your balance, the wave of magic wobbling you, but not knocking you over. The lights flickered, and with it, you caught an idea.

“What if I turn the lights off? I won’t look at you, okay? I just want to help you feel better.” Keeping your sight on him, you walked backwards. As your hip met the furniture, you swiveled to turn the lamp off. It just so happened to be cloudy tonight, the dark clouds coating the moon, again, much like the night Belphie had sleepwalked into your room, only now you were the one stumbling towards the figure in the bed. You walked forward slowly until your knees came into contact with the mattress. Even here you could feel the rolling waves of heat come off of him. “I can’t see a single thing, I swear. Not even my own hand in front of my face,” you whispered to him, your arm waving in the air till you found his body. He was letting you touch him, that was a good sign. It took a moment before you found his shoulder, gently guiding him to lay on his back. You trailed your touch up to his neck before coming up to lightly touch his face. Hot moisture coated your fingertips. For a second, you thought it was sweat, but then you heard the demon take a shaky inhale as his body hitched. Panic struck your body all the sudden, your thumb brushing just under his eyes. “Are you crying? Asmo, no… No, no, no, it’s okay.”

He whimpered, leaning into your touch. “I- I- I- I’m sick and- and unsightly--”

“Hey, hey,” you cooed. “Take a deep breath.” He followed your advice, his chest shuddering. “I’m sorry you’re sick…but we can’t change that now. We just have to focus on getting you well again.” Reaching around to support the back of his head, you helped him up into a slouched position. Although, you struggled to find his hand. When you did, his fingers instinctively went to curl around yours. You hated to disappoint him by replacing your grasp with the medicine bottle. “This should help. I’d, uh, take about half of it.” He took it away from you, and you assumed that he’d brought it to his lips. It was a few seconds before the smooth glass touched your skin again. Taking it back in your possession, you discovered it was a lot lighter than you expected. Moving it around in your hand, you felt no liquid slosh inside. “I said half, Asmo!”

“There was hardly anything in there and I need what I can to go back to my beautiful self!”

“That’s not how--” You sighed, letting the empty bottle settle on the floor. “No one is pretty when they’re sick, but that’s okay. It’s alright to be unsightly sometimes.” The mattress bobbed as Asmo laid back down, getting as close as he could against your body. “But even so, you’re pretty all the same.”

His hand smacked against your knee as he tried to find you, his touch searching for yours. “I can’t be both…am I beautiful or ugly?” He really couldn’t understand what you were trying to say. Maybe one day you’d be able to convey your thoughts properly.

As soon as you touched his wrist, he slid his fingers up to weave through yours. “You’re always beautiful, Asmo. Always. A little sickness won't stop you. But for now, your beautiful body needs some beauty sleep.” You squeezed his hand. “I’ll be right by your side.” The medicine seemed to already be working. Double the dose meant double the drowsiness, and you pinned it in the back of your mind to tell Lucifer about his mishap later. He curled into a tighter ball, snuggling up against your legs.

“It’s not…fair,” he whined, voice almost slurring with sleep. “I don’t…deserve this…I wish I was…as beautiful…as you.” Your chest tightened, but you kept your mouth closed. His grip had already slackened, and you could hear the deeper slower breaths as you came to the conclusion that he had fallen back asleep.

Feel better, Asmo. I’ll be here till you do.

“I tried warning them fallen angels or not, they were still in the demographic to get sick.” Solomon sighed wistfully, but the whole time he never lost his smile. As you recounted your encounters over the last few weeks, the sorcerer giggled. “What I wouldn’t give to see some of those scenes.”

The angel across the little table from you had to agree, although he looked a lot more sympathetic to the brother’s plight than the human did. “I’m really glad they’re all feeling better though. I bet you’re enjoying your newfound freedom, aren’t you, MC?”

You settled down the mug against the tabletop, sitting back in your chair, basking in the ambiance of Purgatory Hall. The House of Lamentation really had been come to feel like your home, but a change of pace was so refreshing at times. The angel’s dorm was so much brighter, quieter. No shouting, no nagging, no chaos. You could sip on a warm beverage in peace. “It’s nice knowing they all feel better,” you stated, having to admit to yourself that your termination of demon-nurse was doing you some good. Retirement life was nice. “No more worries.”

Both men agreed, Simeon pleasantly humming to himself. “Still, you could’ve asked us to help out. I bet it was difficult looking after all of them.”

“Can’t be much different than usual, can it?” Solomon interjected, laughing to himself.

They both were right. But, it’s not like you had hated it. You all felt…closer now. They had allowed you to see a part of themselves no one else got to see. That made you feel special. But being able to kick your feet up and get some much needed sleep was what your doctor ordered. You picked your mug back up and finished the last of your drink. The warmth of it spread throughout your body, seeping down to your toes and fingertips.

When Simeon noticed your cup was empty, he stood, holding his hand out. “Here I can take that for you.” You didn’t really want to impose, but you were the guest, and it did feel nice being taken care of today. They’d pampered you nicely. Taking your jacket at the door, leading you to the living room where you were given sweets and treats handmade by Luke and Simeon. You got more comfortable on the couch and gave the angel a thankful nod. Simeon turned away from you and Solomon, his steps halted as a high-pitched squeak filled the room. “Oh, sorry.”

Your head tilted a bit. “Sorry for what?” Had he stepped on a loose floorboard?

Solomon held himself back a bit before clapping in a bit of glee. He seemed endlessly entertained. “Doesn’t Simeon have the most petite sneeze? Bless you.”

Simeon looked back over his shoulder, actually looking a bit embarrassed over it. “It’s quite a normal sneeze thank you…” He shot his roommate a little look before leaving the room. You watched him go, a sensation of familiarity bubbling up to your mind. This felt… no, it couldn’t be. You were over-thinking things. There was absolutely no way it was happening again. Nope. You would refuse fate itself. Simeon took good care of himself. You couldn’t assume every sneeze was a sign of illness.

There was no one left to get sick. The story was over! The series had come to an end! All wrapped up in a pretty bow and everything!

No one else needed a taste of medicine.

Or did they?…

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #sickfic

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hueningshaped · 1 year

Text

★ between the two of us | c.bg

▰ genre: f2l-uni au w lots of fluff and angst

▰ word count: 10.7k

▰ synopsis: you and beomgyu have to cross new checkpoints everyday it seems when it comes to your friendship, one that has overcome the barrier of being online to real life. being friends in person is hard for you but you realize you love beomgyu enough to brave your own hardships: all for the better — ft the tubatus

warnings: mild cursing, fire in building briefly mentioned, insecurities/struggles and thoughts of body/face dysmorphia, face mask use but not in covid way but in the 'words bubble up like soda pop' way, severe anxiety, burnout, some depressive thoughts, details of eating (habits), arguments, someone gets a stress induced cold, RUSHED RAMBLING

dedication: this is for the one i adore greatly, to my infinitely loved apple of my eye, @gyurecs ! i finally finished it…. never saw this coming… while there are a thousand things i could tell you, i’ll just say that i love you ! i love you so much there aren’t enough words to describe; you are the light of my life and you deserve everything you’ve ever wanted and more !

▰ tag list: just @tyunlatte B) my beloved

ACT I.

Nothing beat the feeling of returning to the refuge of your own dorm, free from prying eyes, annoying people, the summer heat, and in today's case, psychotic professors who want to risk your life for the sake of an exam.

Everyday when you came home from your tiring classes, it became tradition to do chat with your online and dearest friend. It was one of the things you looked forward to everyday. Sure, you both texted every second of everyday, but just to know that you shared the same screen, got to unload and refresh, while watching some silly videos — it meant a lot to you. No matter the weather, no matter where you were on any single, given day, you always made time to do so, and so did he.

Your dearest friend, Beomgyu.

Back to the new twist in your day, today, you came in hot with quite a story to tell, on how the fire alarm had gone off during an exam in your biggest class but your crazed professor, in fear of having anyone possibly cheat, had made everyone remain in their seats. Everyone’s phones had been taken away, so you couldn’t even call authorities.

Long story short, the doors were broken into by other staff, your devices were returned, your professor was suspended, a fire had actually burned the student center, and everyone received an A on the test, on the class overall, but details were still being worked out.

Despite the craze and near-death experience, you were oddly happy, but you think it’s because you get to retell the story to your favorite person.

from: beoms

I HAVE THE CRAZIEST STORY TO TELL YOU

from: you

YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENED TODAY

Your phone vibrated as soon as you sent it, making you chuckle, but the startling realization of you both texting the same thing, at the exact same time aligned a bit too coincidentally. That thought was brushed off quicker than you had even realized. It was funny that what had occurred had even happened at all. Life just liked to be silly, and you were more than thankful for the few times it chose to direct its strange happenings on anything but you.

It had roughly been three years since you’d officially befriended Beomgyu, an internet friend that you’d met over the bonding of the beloved IU on a Twitter page, then coincidentally through the comment section of some TikTok, leading to the further exploration that you were the same user that you’d previously met as. Again, all those coincidences. Happenstances. It was fate, a matter of it that was just funny, nothing serious. Just like the two of you.

Talking to each other had been the easiest thing, even now, it was one of the things you looked forward to the most. Your friendship was a serious one, but not once had you ever considered ever meeting — much too afraid of him being disgusted or scared off by the real you. Only once or twice had you seen pictures of the other, never facetimed (again, too scared to do so), but he never pressed. Disgust was a rather harsh word that you never really confirmed in your head, but it wouldn’t be a lie to say it didn’t exist with regards to you.

He’d send videos of himself with his friends, of his beloved parrot, Toto, he’d make his brother or his parents record him doing the random-est things, of him playing a few written melodies or covers on his guitar, even on a recorder (he’s sent you videos of him playing these instrument to wish you a happy birthday), of him simply talking about his day, and it became violently apparent of how fond he was to you to the point that every time you heard that soft, tender lisp of his, sweet and winding inflections in his tone that never quite sat still, your cheeks would rise to your eyes and ache with how hard you smiled. He had been your dearest friend throughout all the years just the way you were to him.

Throughout your friendship, Beomgyu never quite stayed in the same place: having to move around a lot, too. Despite events that would knock you and him from being able to communicate, nothing could tear your friendship. Not distance, not life-shaking events, not even homework, but you’d made it a point to study as much as you could, alongside your work, to make time to talk.

This was why you dropped your bag down in its same spot, peddling to your desk to text Beomgyu now that you’d returned safely from school. You had tripped over a few things, stubbing your foot, gaze buried deep within your phone, navigating through your newly organized home screen so that it’d look cute, and then at last, you finally accessed your messages.

from: beoms

WHATTWAAHTHTH YOU GO FIRST

from: you

NO YOU

from: beoms

BFFR

from: you

GYU U GO FIRST

from: beoms

fine 😒you’re so rude ….jk BUT ANYWAY ITS A LOT BUT THERE WAS A FIRE AT MY SCHOOL AND MY PROF MADE US STAY IN AND WE WERE GONNA DIE I SWEAR Y/N I S2G THE LAST THING I WOULDVE SAID TO YOU WAS ‘im so hungry im gonna start chewing on my sleeve’ LIKE HUHHHHH

Your stunned silence was thick enough that it permeated through the screen. You did have your read receipts on, and Beomgyu was definitely not a fan of being left on read. It surely just must be a coincidence. Sure, some things here and there have hinted at the slightest, thinnest possibility of you and him being in the same timezone, let alone the same area, but this was just the higher powers of life arranging life in a silly way to blast coincidence. Surely, that was the case…right?

from: beoms

IM OK THO I PROMISE!!! no need to cry and sob and d word over me almost dying a fiery death at the worst place possible

Y/N? are u still there? :0

from: you

freaking beomgyu 😭 if ur going to say dying u might as well not use d word in the same sentence ur sooooo

from: beoms

ok AND???? ur not even worried about me almost dying and the fact that the fire was bad enough it burned down our student center, ur sick!!!!!! ur going to h-e-double hockey sticks….

The more he talked, you felt like the closer you were to falling sick.

from: you

stop..talking….

from: beoms

HUH ???!! if u hate me jus say it 🙂 i can take it 🤧 no but fr i can take it now that my uni gave me an a for the whole class since my prof got suspended hehehehe anyways WHAT HAPPENED TO U PLS DONT TELL ME ITS A BETTER STORY THAN MINE

You laid your forehead against your cold desk, nose and mouth hanging over the floor. Every probability of every possibility didn’t seem plausible. There was no way that fate worked that way, but you had to test the waters out before you truly allowed your heart to pound right out of your chest.

from: you

beomgyu what is ur professor’s name…..

from: beoms

for why

from: you

oh thats really his name?

from: beoms

u deserve cruel and unusual punishment btw oh and his name is dr. mathias something rey 😻 he’s got a king name and sorry Y/N can’t remember crap

You gasped once your eyes found the name of your own professor’s name on the syllabus that was loaded on a different tab. There in fine print: Dr. Mathias Flores Rey. The same person who’d jeopardized your lives over cheating…both your lives… yours and Beomgyu’s… a person you never thought you would have met at least any time soon.

from: you

im going to need u to not freak out with me bc i already am……… but im 99.999999% sure we go the same school bc we have the same prof and we have the same class and we had the exact same thing happen to us…….. but idk maybe its just a coincidence lol hahaa could be mandela effect lol haha sorry i had to discover this sorry BEOMGYU LAUGH WITH ME PLE A SE

It was his turn to leave you on read.

This freaked you out definitely a lot more than it should have. The logical part of your brain chided the anxious part, which was the majority, saying, ‘This is a good thing! You’ll finally be able to meet! Isn’t that what you’ve wanted?’

But the anxious part was a bit more in control. It for sure had a hand in just about every part of your brain, as it had for so long. So, rather than be able to enjoy this discovery, this wonderful surprise has made you come face to face with the struggle you’ve had your entire life.

Violent buzzes pulled you suddenly from your thoughts, breathing a bit seized but deflating as soon as your eyes you found the culprit of sound: Beomgyu’s contact name and picture taken over the entire screen with an incoming call.

Hesitantly but with a shake of your head that whisked such delays away, one swipe and his thunderous giggle-scream filled the air of your silent room. As joyous as you felt about the potential lack of distance with your longtime online friend, a part of you felt weary. In the reflection of your screen, you could see your lips pursed, the bottom tucked between your teeth, set on peeling the skin on it. The sunshine, which had blinded you for much of the day, was hidden behind the black out curtains, tinting the world dim and gray. Just the way you felt inside.

“Hello?! Y/N, I’m so mad at you… how dare you even think for a second that you should apologize for discovering this,” you forced out a laugh in response, which in turn made his voice lower. “Is it really true, though? I-I don’t want to get my hopes up… I mean, I’m over the moon right now, but I mean-well… you know what I mean, right?”

While a tide of doubt swirled in your mind at the possibility of him being disappointed by you, which you felt was inevitable, the exhale that drafted from your lips registered as a sigh for him.

“Y/N, you alright? I didn’t bother you, did I?” Because of the years you had behind your friendship, you knew Beomgyu well, especially what he needed. Immediately, your voice thinned out and you made sure to reassure him to the best of your abilities.

“I’m good, Gyu. I promise you didn’t bother me. I’m… well, yeah, it’s all true unless you don’t belong to an introduction to linguistics class that meets from 12:30 to 2:15 every Monday, Wed—”

“Holy shit.”

“Wednesday, Friday, and our prof is named Dr. Mathias Flores Rey, and he’s most likely getting his doctorate taken away, then it’s not true.”

“It is true! It is true!” Beomgyu barked into the speaker incessantly, screaming then laughing loudly, which made you smile contagiously. He just had that effect. The birds chirped and the sun bled in the room from behind the curtain as you joined in laughter. Brief moments like this lowered the volume of the anxiety that pulsed through your veins. They were nice. Brief but so nice. That was what made them special.

“So, when can I meet you? You live on campus, right?” He asked, still full of excitement, and your wavering breath brought reality back to the film of your eyes. “Yeah, I do, and um…” Back and forth, your head turned to look around at the room, almost like you needed to be reminded of where you were. Of who you were.

“I’m still on campus, Y/N. That is if you wanna meet up still. I mean, it’s been a long day for both of us, so we can do this another day. No pressure.” He sang out the last word but a part of you still ached for him even if he possibly wasn’t bothered by your possible decline. Like an inkling, you felt like you needed to reassure your dear friend and always make sure his feelings were good, that his heart felt safe, and that he felt okay at the very least. None of this could even be close to a job; you loved Beomgyu dearly. He had become your close friend throughout all these years.

He lived off campus in a shared apartment with his four other friends. Beomgyu went on to surprisingly give his exact location, disclosing his address much to your laughing shock with repeats of “Beomgyu, come on!” He went down to the apartment building and room number, giggling along with you. Back and forth of his apartment and his friends, you could feel that he was aware that you were dodging the question.

It wasn’t too far, probably a thirty minute walk from your dorm, so you could do another day, but you also thought about the sun that was setting, the last attempts of sunlight shooting through the dips of the horizon that were soon to die down to let the dark become of the sky, and how little light would work in your favor.

“Y/N?” Beomgyu called due to lack of response to whatever he said.

“I can meet you now if that’s okay…” your heart pounded loudly in your ears, above your own voice it seemed. The person you’ve known for the past three years was soon to meet you, to see you finally, to put a face to the name, and that terrified you.

Instantaneously, you could feel his smile through the phone. “More than okay. It’s perfect. When and where, Y/N?”

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

Now, this seemed like a bad idea. Or, an idea that was born to fail.

Walking through the park, eyes flitting from your Maps app to the unfamiliar surroundings on the one part of campus you never quite visited — mainly because it was a hang out area, lots of seating areas, and well, it would be a nice place to be to read and listen to music and just relax, but it was never empty — you couldn’t help but feel like you wanted to be sick. Your slip on shoes scraped against the concrete under your feet, a painful rhythm to the thundering of your heart.

How long do you think you can keep doing this? Thoughts like these filter through your ears, rounding your mind as sharp as a hiss but as light as a breeze.

Beomgyu had said he’d be waiting, messaging you with live updates of where he would be and when he would arrive, and three minutes prior to this moment, he had texted:

from: beoms

IM ALIVE I MADE IT BY MYSELF ID LIKE TO THANK MY MOM AND DAD FOR RAISING ME SO BRAVE IM A SOLDIER 💪💪

You knew what he looked like, so you knew what to look for. However, it didn’t make it less strenuous on your heart. You felt like it was going to give out, your hands trembling from around your hold on your phone. He had no idea what you looked like. That scared you.

But what scared you more was—

Unruly hair, boba-like eyes, long eyelashes, pretty lips. Even with half a glimpse, you still stopped in your tracks at the knowing of who was before you. Beomgyu.

You swear you almost dropped your phone and fled the scene, but surprisingly, your anxiety had some semblance of restraint for you.

Beomgyu really was right in front of you, seated on a bench, feet rolling left and right on the skateboard, gazing down at his phone rather pensively like he was looking at it and not looking into it. You wanted to run off.

But your feet carried you over to him, keeping some distance between you and this very guy. Voice perked up, all functions from the surprising courage of your body, all for you to try his name, “Beomgyu?”

He looked up immediately, blinking a few times, like he had forgotten what he was doing, and it made you worry, ready to flee and forget this whole thing had even happened, but then, things clicked. It was a visual story.

Realization slowly became of his face, from the widening of his eyes, mouth forming an ‘o’, the skateboard nearly slipping right from under him as he scrambled to stand, and his mouth stuttered on some word that you later realized was your name. Beomgyu seemed to know you even if he had no confirmation.

“Y/N?” He asked for the fourth time, all while you pocketed your phone to nod shyly. A joyous screech from him made you flinch as he pedaled over to you, arms opening and for a second, you were sure he was going to tackle you, until he paused just mere inches from you, the proximity making you sweat even more than you already were. So close.

It felt like a dream. Silly to say of which you’ve had many. Of meeting, of navigating the end of the world together, of being in a zombie apocalypse together, of all the craziest scenarios your dreams can create, but there were also nightmares. Of this. Of him seeing you for the first time and being grossed out by what he sees. Of him refuting your friendship because of what you look like.

Beomgyu’s boyish beautiful smile paralyzed you, pretty features absolutely enthralling, dark rounded eyes that were full of wonder and joy that had to look down for you, curtained by long eyelashes, grown out brown hair that you’d seen through recent pictures, and the light but generous scent of his fragrance — something like lavender, linen, musk, and some other earthy scent that you swore you’ve smelled on your mom or something like that — with sun kissed skin even in the low light of the lampposts.

Your eyes just scanned everywhere, unable to resist the canvas before you. It shocked you. It pleased you. It overwhelmed you.

“Y/N,” you heard and blinked back to the anxiety that palpitated in the pit of your belly. Your eyes locked with his, that same smile on those lips. “Is it… is it okay if I hug you? Y…you’re not sick or anything, are you?” He laughed minutely at his own question, but it was moreso out of pure glee like he was unable to believe even his own eyes.

Beomgyu didn’t seem to care too deeply about you wearing a face mask, which steadied your heart. At least that was what you had told yourself then and there. With a quick nod, pause then head shake, and some reassurance of a lie, some distorted truth to enable the disguise, you felt like a fraud who didn’t deserve to be embraced by your best friend after so long, after having been convinced you’d never even meet. Your half-covered face just smushed against his clothes as he squeezed you tight in his arms, enveloping you in quite a bear hug. Hints of flowers, of soap, of tea, of a fresh breeze were in his clothes in his scent, something you found yourself wanting to stay forever in. How spoiled were you to let yourself be here in his arms?

Like a bomb, your rapidly beating heart ticked faster until you were the first to pull away, lowering your head but trying to make eye contact. A shimmer was in Beomgyu’s eyes, but he still smiled.

He always smiled.

ACT II.

One thing about you was that you had never really showed Beomgyu how you looked, and another thing about you that you didn’t know was that it scared the crap out of him. At some point, he had even told his friends about how it worried him. One of them had even suggested calling Nev and Max from Catfish, but everything, he felt, everything about you was real. You showed pictures of other things but not one ever exhibited your face, in any shape or measure. You were real. Genuine like a priceless gem. And meeting you, well, that had only immortalized that idea.

But, you didn’t know that.

from: beoms

do u think it’s too early for me to tell u that i already miss u?

After having showered and well, cried extensively while showering, you came straight to your phone to find this text from Beomgyu. Words like this from him weren’t new; he could say the darnedest things, some of the most heartfelt pieces in between the silliest, most unserious phrases. That was how his heart was: naïve in the way a child loves but just overall so pure, tender, and intelligent.

After your hug, you both chatted about the aftermath of the fire during your class, about your schedules, about your days ahead, and it was getting darker, so Beomgyu had walked you back with the promise of plans tomorrow. None of it had been done as smoothly as you'd wanted: you struggled to look in each other's eyes, laughed nervously, blushed, sweat, and awkwardly sauntered away from the other when the night became of day.

from: you

absolutely not :( i miss u too

With that commitment of hanging out tomorrow, unable to quite say no when both your hearts unraveled through and through each fired up text message, time bled into the swing of things. Bidding each other good night like you always did to bidding each other good morning, again, like you always did.

You only had one class for this brand new day, but you met up for study group, wherein you never actually said anything, but it was easier for you to learn when it was your classmates’ talking up the lectures.

Of course, none of the content soaked in the sponge of your mind. It was dense with its own precipitation of your preoccupation of seeing Beomgyu. Again.

It pained you.

Because no matter how over the moon you felt about finally existing in the same time and space of your best friend, your insecurity didn’t let you enjoy it.

And it was one thing for you to be friends online, but to be friends in real life? Wouldn’t things change?

“Wow, since when has that guy belonged to our class? He’s really cute…” while copying a few formulas for the study group lab, whispers caught your attention, making you look up, and freeze to find Beomgyu walking as naturally as can be for someone who was clearly not a part of the class. He wore a simple blue sweater, his wired headphones loosely hanging from around his neck, backpack hanging off one shoulder, and a plain, handsome smile on his face. He looked in his element. Like he belonged in any scene. Wouldn’t it be tarnished if he came close to you?

Plans to hang out together had been made for after your study group, but here was Beomgyu, joining you halfway through, coming over to you, a grin that only got bigger and bigger, with what you noticed was a coffee in one hand. Here he was coming to sit next to you, where no one ever sat, where you’d made sure no one could ever get near.

You simply watched him in amazement, blinking, letting your classmates whisper among themselves, and allowing him to settle beside you. The process came with a cheerful greeting of your name, passing the drink directly in your hand, rubbing your fingers as he exchanged it, shrugging off his backpack, and whipping out his phone to simply place down in front of him. He even started getting out his laptop, noisily doing so, which got even more attention. Beomgyu couldn’t help but laugh at your growing sheepishness.

“What?” He asked like he wasn’t aware of the angelic halo that shimmered off him from his dazzling aura. He must really be loved. And he was. By you.

“Nothing…!” You whispered out between breathy giggles, making room for him, and anxiously fidgeting your hand because your body felt downright stumped to be next to him. “Here’s your drink, Y/N. Sorry, I almost took a sip out of it since it looked so good.” He nudged the drink closer to you, patting the backside of your palm to give you a sweet smile. Only reason he added emphasis was because he knew you were anxious. Hesitantly, you nodded and grabbed onto it, looking into the drink before looking back up to see he hadn’t looked away from you yet.

“Thank you, Beomgyu. You didn’t have to get me anything. Didn’t you get anything for yourself?” Everything sounded like you were out of breath, but he shook his head, shaggy hair bouncing healthily. “No problem, Y/N. Technically, it’s not a coffee but a tea refresher, so drink up and enjoy. And I finished my tea earlier then ordered yours once I was on my way.”

A refresher that you have loved since forever. He remembered?

“Hmm…” you hummed and tried to balance giving your attention to Beomgyu, calming down, and scarcely trying to focus on the class conversation. Beomgyu’s palm wrapped around the back of your hand and squeezed in a way that made you wiggle your fingers.

Your eyes moved from your laptop screen to his hand on yours back up to his face. “Just breathe…” he mouthed over to you. Beomgyu was typing with the other hand on his opened up document, things that didn’t even apply to him or his major, simply for you.

As the dullness of your anxiety drifted away, you slowly were able to think a bit easier, to narrow down the “problems”.

You had to take off your mask to drink the tea in front of him, or else you’ll look like a jerk. That was the main concern. Secondly, you wanted to make Beomgyu happy and spend time with him. Third, you wanted to get everything written down so you could study later.

It seemed like he was helping you out with that last one, and your heart quivered with the hope that you weren’t making Beomgyu unhappy, but rather the contrary. You just had to take it off to take at least one sip to show your gratitude. Just a little sip, even.

The study group eventually died down with documents and flash cards being distributed via your group chat, but you and Beomgyu remained. One of your classmates had even turned around to give you a wink, giggling with a ‘you think they’re gonna kiss?’ under her breath to her companion. You hoped to God he hadn’t caught that…

“You ready to go?” Beomgyu closed his laptop after having basically typed all you needed; his fingers worked fast. Deadly fast. All this time, you had waited to see this skill up close. Awed as you were, you still couldn’t think straight. You hadn’t taken one sip yet. He stretched to pop his fingers, swiveling to face you in the chair.

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat to come back to reality, eyebrows knotting and curving with worry. “Sorry… didn’t mean to shut down on you this entire hour… And you didn’t have to meet me here. You must’ve been so bored having to type up all this nonsense.” His smile appeared relaxed but kept widening with every word of yours.

A part of you wanted to apologize for the very obvious lack of sips to your gifted drink. But, then that meant that you’d have to apologize for your appearance. But, then that would mean he’d have to look at you. And then, that meant —

“Hey, come on already~ I told you: you don’t have to apologize for anything, Y/N. This was so much fun. I got called cute today and I got to hang out with you before the real hang out. This was like a delicious appetizer, to be honest!” You surprised yourself with a laugh, making him do the same.

“We can get some real food right now, though if you’re — ” “No!” You slapped a palm over your mask-covered mouth, blinking in shock and apologies. Beomgyu’s eyes only spoke from his expression: another blinking stare. “S-sorry… I um, can’t stomach anything right now. We can just… do what you had planned already.”

He arched an eyebrow with a suspicious face, furrowing one eyebrow and pouting.

“If you say so, Y/N! We… um… we don’t have to do anything if you don’t feel well though.” He was standing up now, backpack on his shoulder, brave smile on his face but he looked worried.

“I promise I’m well enough to hang out. Just have chronic tummy ache.” You commented, moving to follow him out the door with your own packed up backpack, too preoccupied over the idea of the reality that you’re going to have to show him how you look like at some point, maybe work on makeup during time apart…

“Wow, you’re a real warrior.” He giggled under his breath as you both walked out the building onto your next destination.

And the drink? Long forgotten by you.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

Sadly, you both were shy with each other. Sheepish, struggling to hold eye contact, giggling and blushing madly at the pace of conversation, at the gift of being in each other's presence. Still, despite the bumps in the road, it all came together because hanging out with Gyu felt natural very quickly. Like scarily fast.

For that day, his suggestion had been perfect! You’d gone out to the bookstore then the Music Store, where you each bought things: you, two novels, and Beomgyu, two CDs. After that, you’d gone to the fields to just sit and relax, Beomgyu whipping out a small quilt from his backpack. You’d teased him for his Mary Poppins dupe, asking where you could find one. He thought that comment was funny, evidence in his squeaky laugh echoing off the hills around you. Beomgyu had whipped out a portable CD player and gave you a headphone and silently read with you, hovering over your shoulder to read, and making you wait on him because he read very slow. At some point, though, he felt too close, perhaps at an angle where he could see in your mask, so you had slammed your book shut and moved to sit across from him to give a ‘what’s in my bag’ haul. Beomgyu seemed down for a moment after that, but before you could even ask, he was back to normal before you knew it.

Interestingly enough, you both were new to the area; while you and he dormed in this area, it was new territory for the two of you, meaning new sights to see, new things to conquer. Really, that just allowed the two of you to start off on the same page. Though, it was beginning to look like Beomgyu had to put in the work for both of you.

He always texted first.

But, it probably wasn't that big of a deal.

The next day, you and he had to attend a meeting with everyone from your linguistics class that you’d both been emailed about the night before. Your professor had been fired, just like the student center, but rather than giving an A for the course as promised, you were instead to take the reminder of the course through a different instructor, who was much, much harder on you than that professor who’d nearly gotten you all killed.

To fight off the blues of knowing the tough journey ahead, you and Beomgyu both ditched your second classes to go to the local amusement park, where you both ventured on nearly all the rides, ones that you’d never have gotten on by yourself. Due to being throttled around in the air, your mask had nearly flown off, but it stayed on, your fingers tightly knit on the sides. It was fun to scream at the top of your lungs with Beomgyu, who’d gripped tightly onto your hand for each and every one. You paid for Beomgyu’s turns at the stands to play games; the natural skilled guy he was won handfuls of plushies, one of them being a teddy bear that he generously gave to you. He’d insisted on giving you all his winnings, but that had been the compromise you came up with.

It felt like a friendship that had always existed because it was.

That night, he invited you over for dinner with his friends, but you’d turned him down.

It seemed like, without even knowing, you were going to be doing that a lot — letting him down. It was strange because for someone who was severely anxious and strived to be self aware all the way down to the cells in their own matter, you were also hopelessly clueless.

And judging by the way things turn out, it wasn’t the good kind.

ACT III.

After a week of goofing off with the other, hanging around campus and off campus, things took a wide turn when your linguistics class started up again. You and Beomgyu decided that you’d arrive at the same time in order to sit with each other; you'd thought it through. Having each other was going to ensure your success.

For a while, it worked out because you endured this god awful class together.

Life fell into a routine: going to class together, spending time together afterwards either studying or simply doing nothing, and outside of that, texting sparsely and FaceTime-ing also sparsely. Your workload with this new professor seemed borderline torturous with pop quizzes, strict deadlines on frequent and lengthy assignments, overlapping group projects, online and in-class discussions, and not to mention the extra work put in to reading and understanding the textbook and lectures, which hardly made sense when applied to the exams. It felt like Hell, and it was only less than the second half of the semester that you endured since the fire incident.

Beomgyu took the weight of the course change and all his other course work like a champ, visibly drained but cheerful as always.

Sometimes he'd bring you breakfast that he painfully knew you wouldn't eat in front of him but he secretly hoped you'd eat behind closed doors. Other times, most really, you brought him coffee, tea, snacks, and breakfast. You'd even formed your own study group with him, but due to his popularity and the overwhelming amount of classmates, you never showed up after the first time.

For midterms, you'd both barely made it out alive.

When Halloween had come around, Beomgyu had wanted to hang out with you to watch bad scary movies, but then you had a bad acne breakout and you also caught the flu, isolating yourself for an entire weekend.

When it came down to fall break, you and he were supposed to have sleepovers, but you'd declined that suggestion pretty hard. There was an awkward lull for a day or two after that, but you'd found something else to blame it on. Lying.

Right before finals, you'd helped him dye his hair. Messily and not professionally, might you add, but Beomgyu loved it. He sent you a selfie every morning after that.

You didn't hang out everyday since he needed his days in, especially with his boys (who you continued to decline meeting), just the way you did. It was a wonder to you both as to when you'd finally open up. There was no rush, so he said. So he said.

These past few months have been fun! Lonely and painful and ugly as your life may be, meeting your best friend in person definitely made everything better.

Yet, even after all this time, not once had you shown a glimpse of your face to Beomgyu. Sure, lots of good times and moments were shared between you. None of it ever involved eating. Sadly, this meant that you'd have to give up meals so as to not eat in front of him. A part of you still felt like a fraud no matter how much you tried to ignore it, because by hiding your face, you couldn't help but feel like hiding other parts of yourself that you felt were ugly. Sure, having been online friends with him for two years had led to you two being incredibly close, but even you were smart enough to see that not everything had to be shown, not even to someone you loved.

Sometimes that meant shutting them out...

It happened a lot, or rather, he was used to not receiving the usual responses, as were you for the other — only sending a thumbs up emoji every few days to make sure the other was at least alive.

He had sent you a thumbs up emoji a day after the big linguistics final, which had, in short, brutally kicked your guys' asses. Like badly. You had yet to see if you'd both passed the class.

That had been a week ago. You'd sent the thumbs up two days ago. And, well, since finals were done, you'd expected him to be back to normal. If he was going through something, wouldn't he have just told you? That's what you both did before physically meeting. It made you worry about him.

Because he hadn't double or triple or whatever texted you? No. Because he wasn't reaching out? No. You just worried. Wondered. Dreamed. About him. Was he doing okay? Was he eating well? How had the workload been on him for midterms? Did his roommates go through the same thing? Did they give him a hard time? You doubted it with the way he loved them visibly, audibly.

from: you

hey gyu sorry for the super late reply 😭 but how did finals go for u?

The longest it had ever taken Beomgyu to reply to you was eleven hours, and that had been a year ago when he had had a full blown family day, meaning he stayed up drinking with his dad, his brother, and his best friends. Today, he broke that record, and you couldn't help but worry. Worry in a bad way.

Maybe he stayed in to game the entire day. It didn't sound ridiculous since he had told you he gamed for hours and hours, and maybe as soon as his last midterm was done, that was what he wanted to do to relieve himself.

Throughout September, during the recesses of your daily routines, you and he would go over to each other's houses. When you'd gone to his, his roommates would always be gone (so as to not make you uncomfortable) and you'd watch him game, idly on his bed: sometimes watching a show on your phone, studying, or reading. Nevertheless, something about watching him game felt nostalgic. The thought of it did.

Piles and piles of 'you're selfish' flooded in your mind as you fought the urge to reach out physically. It wasn't even for your sake. You just wanted to know if he was okay considering the last time you'd seen each other, he had hardly said a word to you, only his face spoke: showing a tired, vacant expression. You had been too broken in your own way to do anything but give him a hand squeeze right before the exam that had taken three hours. Beomgyu had finished earlier than you, giving you a few tired blinks and a smile that somehow stretched to his eyes, before officially walking out the door.

You just wanted a real life thumbs up emoji. That was what you needed.

The measure to acquire such a sign took the impossible. It meant that you had to go to his apartment. Thus, why you had been standing at his front door for the past four minutes, fiddling with your sleeves and your face mask, fingers fidgeting in attempts to calm down enough to even knock. So much anxiety that you failed to pinpoint what it was stemming from. Beomgyu? Did he finally admit to hating you? Was it his friends? Is Beomgyu okay? Who would open? Would they ridicule you and laugh at you?

A couple of voices grew closer to the door until ultimately, curiosity collided with reality, and the door swung open to reveal a couple of very tall guys who simply stared down at you with soft, wide eyes.

"Um..." the tallest of them said while the other two just glanced between you and the others, making your heart thunder in your ears. Another person seemed to be behind them. "Why are you guys still standing here? Aw, waiting on me, aren't you guys? Oh." The owner of that voice parted through the other three like the sea, blinking at you. You recognized him through the one of the photos Beomgyu had sent you. Yeonjun.

He blinked at you carefully, slowly glancing down to your tapped lock screen where he saw Beomgyu's selfie. (Beomgyu did that, and who were you to have changed it?) It all came together on his face at that.

"Ah! Oh, my God, you're Y/N?! Come in, come in!" Yeonjun immediately shouted and stepped back. It was at your name that the others got it, too, making shocked expressions and overall ecstatic features. You were practically ushered with their hand waves, and you were also touched at how they backed up to make space for you. After briefly introducing themselves to you, they suddenly began whispering. You neared closer so as to get closer to their volume.

"Okay, Y/N, so happy that you're here first of all, may I just say, and anyway, we were about to go get food and come to bring it to Beomgyu. Still can't get over how you're the Y/N..."

"Focus, Soobin!"

"Shhh!"

"You shhh!"

"Y/N," Taehyun garnered your attention, speaking softly under the umbrella of Kai, who merely chuckled. You nodded, doing your best to see how this pertained to your best friend. He smiled warmly at you. "Beomgyu's been burnt out lately. He's had a cold for the past few days, but it's because he hasn't been taking care of himself. He's told us lots about you, but since he's been by himself, he's kinda refused to see anyone, and this whole time... well, we wondered if he would be open to seeing you. We never knew how to contact you."

"Maybe it's fate that you found us. Thank you for showing up." Kai whispered, closing his eyes gently for a smile. Had your mask not been on, they would have seen how hard your frown trembled your lips. Your hands by your sides formed determined fists. If the situation was different, Yeonjun thought he would have cooed.

"Did you come over to see Beomgyu?" Soobin asked, having to look down at you even crouched slightly. You fumbled in your gaze. It took so much to even speak now.

"Well, yeah," your voice worked. "He... he hadn't responded to me, and it's... easy for me to get in my own head, and I just had to see for myself. It's um, nice to finally meet you all. I'm sorry I never said yes." You bowed your head in shame, and they quietly booed, disagreed with little 'no, no, no''s.

"Please don't be sorry, Y/N. Everything happens at its own time. We are just happy you are in Beomgyu's life." Taehyun added, and something behind your eyes wished to give way, but there was more important matters at hand. So, you smiled and thanked them, mustering up the courage to be strong for your best friend.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

Stress-induced colds were not new to you conceptually. You'd probably had one during midterms, but seeing someone you love go through something you have suffered by yourself with made the pain a lot more tangible.

They told you not to knock, letting you know they'd be in the living room if you or he needed anything, and you'd stepped in as you'd gotten a hold of the knob. Beomgyu was sleeping in a way that showed you he'd only dozed off due to fatigue. His head was dropped onto a pillow, cheek smushed, a controller loosely in his hand, a blanket haphazardly around his legs. His under eyes were sunken in. It looked like he formed a little nest around himself.

"Beomgyu..." You whispered once you had came to the edge of his bed, a hand running through his sweaty locks, and that was all it had taken to make his eyes flutter open, dazedly taking you in his sleep-ridden sights. "Y/N? No way..." he blinked as you tried to show a smile through your eyes.

"What-what are you doing here?" His voice was hoarse, almost two dimensional in its deep pitch. Red rimmed eyes and nostrils, flurry of tissues tossed right where your feet were, minute shivers — it was true he was suffering. You blinked a bit, playing with a frilly corner of his sheets, the ones you found a second refuge in throughout these past months. "I wanted to check on you."

"Why?" Through the thick of his sinuses, he sounded sad. You blinked, trying to decipher the true tone.

"Wh-what do you mean 'why'? Beoms — "

"Y/N, please... please don't hurt me more than you've already hurt me..." he muttered tiredly through weak coughs. He looked so frail curling in on himself. Your frown hardened, bottom lip wobbling, ready to surrender to a cry. "Huh?" This was becoming a nightmare somehow. "Beomgyu, what do you-how can I fix this? I'm-I'm lost, please..." he shivered, weakly trying to sit up but still doing it. On his own, having refused your help.

"Look. The semester's done and over with. You... you don't have to pretend anymore. I've tried my best to ignore the way I feel, but to me, with the way you just... I know you're the kindest person , but you can be really careless, you know?"

You blinked rapidly in attempts to divert the oncoming tears.

"Me?" Your pain came out a color you had never thought could bloom.

"Yeah!" He raised his voice a little. A part of you figured much of this was from the cold, but why did it answer your some of your biggest fears?

"I'm sorry, but I know we've been friends for the past two years, but why do I feel like you're becoming a stranger on purpose? I feel like you dislike me secretly. Detest me even. It hurts so much more to pretend, Y/N. Just come out and say it. I mean, you don't let me near you, it's like you're grossed out by me. I thought, I don't know, you'd noticed by now. I know you're hyperaware of lots of things, but it feels like you choose to ignore it. Like you wanna be cruel." You wanted to word vomit, deny everything, explain it all, but you could only stare at him.

"Are-are you seriously this pained by me not being comfortable with you?" Your voice shook, sniffles bundling. "You know, I'm not comfortable with anyone, not even myself."

"But, I'm not just anyone. At least I shouldn't be. You treat me as if you're constantly getting ready to leave but never do, can never get close enough, and it's fucking torture." Beomgyu spat, crossing his arms and looking at the wall.

"What point are you even trying to make? I don't-I-I don't understand it! All I hear is that you don't want me here!" You raised your own voice, too. He sat up at that to look at you. This was something you've never wanted to see: Beomgyu upset or mad with you.

"Because I don't! I'm telling you how I feel and being sensitive with you — "

"I am being sensitive with you!" "No, you are fucking not!" "You're the one who needs to be sensitive!" "You're the one — "

At this point, the argument was beyond you, and you both were just letting out steam on the other, like two windly taut kettle pots. It seemed like some petty fight that you both had no interest in even winning anymore, feeling the loss in the looks of each other's eyes.

"Get out of here, Y/N!" At that sharp yell of his, you'd flinched but remained strong, now glaring. No room for you to even kneel and cry. No room for you to show the true weak link in your already decrepit being. No room for you to try and fight for an agreement. No room for you to even defend yourself more than you already had. You didn't deserve it.

Just as you were ready to stomp out, fist shaking, lips sputtering in attempts to curb your cry, you found a little wiggle room.

One hand on the knob and you turned to see Beomgyu's shimmering eyes, his own mouth curling with a cry.

"Beomgyu," your voice was full again, even and calm. "If you knew... I think you'd understand."

"Yeah, but I don't." His wet, hoarse tone indicated his level of temperament.

"But, you will."

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

Everything else followed pretty seamlessly. The walk out the apartment came out a lot easier than you thought, considering how you avoided their eyes, apologized as you sped out the door.

The ghosting part was not.

In fact, it absolutely sucked.

You didn't lose your online friend. You lost your best friend, too, even maybe four, new friends. No goodbye or anything. Sure, it was cowardly to accept fate this way.

But, it didn't matter. Hardly anything did. There was one week left for you to remain in your dorm before you'd head home for the holidays, and even then, your plan was to continue the Bella Swan New Moon-era act you had been pulling since a few days ago. Somehow not even your insecurities that had ruined your friendship with your best friend mattered. You didn't care to look in the makeup, let alone get up to take care of yourself.

Since the downfall, you'd been lying in bed all day, rotting practically, with a sitcom playing over and over again on your laptop.

There was hardly anyone on campus since everyone had left because they finished their courses early and who wanted to be out during the cusp of winter?

The year was ending. It had been an eventful past few months. The friendship having lasted nearly three years now... You had only wished for it to last longer, for it to end better though selfishly you had never once wanted it to.

On the day before the campus closed, you decided to write Beomgyu a letter, allowing him to wield the power to throw it away or read it. Even going so far as to deliver it inside his mail slot at his apartment. Inside, you apologized for every thing you could think of, including the basis of your argument, wishing him well, reassuring him in the best way you can of your love for him, and had you been born looking like someone else, perhaps you would have been able to love entirely the way he deserved.

Funnily enough, later that day, dead in the night, despite the lack of a stamp, that letter was returned to sender by Beomgyu himself, who nearly broke your door down with how hard he had been pounding. Like the freaking police...

from: beoms

OPEN THE FUCGINK DOOR RNJNJNTRN

OPENNFNNNN!!!!!! 👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍

THIS IS THE CIA!!! FBI!!!! NCIS!!!! LAW AND ORDER!!!!! CRIMINAL MINDS!!!!!! THIS IS THE PRESIDENT!!!!!!

IM SO SORRY I WAS SUCH AN ABBY LEE MILLER PLEASE IM SO SORRY I DIDNT MEAN SHIT THAT I SAID ESPECIALLY SINCE IM JU ST DUMB PLEASE OPENNENUPPPPPP

If only you could check your phone...

ACT IV.

The truth was that nothing scared you more than being seen. You were terrified, obsessed, haunted, tortured by the way you looked. It seemed silly that at this age, you could be so afflicted by such a thing, but it had been true for much of your life, even as a child.

It seemed natural to try and avoid the discovery of such an ugly sight to the one you loved. Wasn't that what love is? This was how you protected him.

"Okay, okay! I'm here! I was in the bathroom!" You hollered on your way to the door, wondering if you'd gotten in trouble with the RA.

Once you open the door, revealing a very out of breath Beomgyu whose fist was ready to have fallen back on the door but had paused as soon eye contact was made. Those round, angelic eyes just took you in. Your own did the same, but not quite as majestically. All words eluded you.

It was freezing cold outside considering his reddened nose and cheeks, sparse melted snowflakes on his long eyelashes and dyed hair.

"Y/N," Beomgyu finally voiced.

"Beomgyu," you said calmly, in the same tone as his to tease, though it didn't do much to cover your disbelief that he was here.

He threw his head back to exhale, still catching his breath, pointer finger up in the air. You almost felt bad. Worse than how you already felt.

Wordlessly, you gently pulled him inside your dorm, shutting the door behind him as he did his best to muster up to say what he had to say.

"Do you love me?" He managed, arching a thick eyebrow, and combing his hair back away from his face. His thick lips formed a pout: adorable but so concerned.

"Of course, I love you." You said like it wasn't a matter of question. He sighed, leaning against the wall.

"No, I know you love me. I'm asking if you love me love me. You know..." It was evident that he grew shy in the way he had said it: sounding so sure in the beginning but voice lowering as if he had never admitted it to himself before then. You could feel your heart pounding in your brain, in your ears, in your eyes, screaming in your pulses.

"Do you love me love me?" You couldn't help but ask, stepping over his question, which made him groan lightheartedly. "I asked first!"

That made you both grin, ignoring the heat in your faces.

Beomgyu's eyes doubted. There was always a hint of it in his pretty eyes that reflected wonder. And you'd caught it from the moment you both collided, even before through video calls. He was real. You had never known love before Beomgyu; it felt silly, immature even. It seemed foreign, but it was because it was new.

"I do." You nod through glimmering eyes, vision getting blurrier and blurrier. It was a confident answer through body language, your ever fidgeting fingers now clutched tightly in your sleeves. "I love you. I love everything about you, Beomgyu."

There it was. A shaky breath followed by a laughter wet with tears. Beomgyu even laughed with his throat, hearty and strong, looking up at the ceiling to blink away his tears.

"God, finally..." he said under his breath, and you couldn't help but laugh at that.

"I mean it," you assured, voice thinning out. "I adore you."

Beomgyu looked giddy. He kept grinning at the ground. Despite your thundering heart, a part of you relaxed at the way he just looked so happy, simply at the prospect of your love for him. The other heavier part wailed in silence at the lack of reciprocation. He had valid reasons to not —

"Y/N, will you let me tell you how I feel about you?" His sweet but gravelly voice suddenly resounded near you, now that he had taken a step closer to you. Beomgyu smiled easily, warmth radiating from his eyes. Oh, this guy liked you liked you. Your face and body was practically engulfed in flames of intense heat and sweat. Your insecurities and fears were just a cry far quieter to the disbelief of Beomgyu just being within reach. Back. Yours.

"Gyu..." you sniffled from behind your face mask, blinking away the tears that pooled and pooled. "You don't even know what I look like. You're going to change your mind." This warning you gave him secretly felt like a plea to 'please don't change your mind' and 'please don't go'. Beomgyu made you watch him wordlessly as he brought a hand to cup your jaw through your mask.

"I don't think I could change my mind even if I tried," he whispered. "But, would you let me at least take a glance of the one person I've loved for so long?"

Your hesitance was met with absolute patience. A nod accompanied by errant tears began the process of you bringing your hands to discard, Beomgyu's hands gently covering them to help you. It was a slow process that made you nearly see stars from anxious you were for him to see your face. You hid your face, looking away to breathe in and out for the sake of yourself and for Beomgyu. And when you turned to look back up, your wet, teary eyes streamed a little more with a sob from your lips.

"My God, you're so... You're just..." His eyes did not hide the way they scanned all of your face: all your imperfections, quirks in your skin or facial composition. "I'm what?" You held your breath with rapt attention, lungs and heart seized in impatience, in fear, in everything in between.

Beomgyu sighed a big one, rubbing your jaw with his thumb and lowering his face down more to yours to tell you, "you're beautiful".

He held your face in his hands as if it was fine china, admiring each and every feature with an overwhelming love in his eyes and sweet words that dripped from his mouth so easily. "I love your nose, your eyes, look at these eyelashes, I love this beauty spot right here, you are just so beautiful. I wish you knew just how lovely I find you..."

You cried and cried at that much to Beomgyu's sad "no, you're supposed to stop crying!"

He craved to meet your lips with his, to come in and truly meet the face of the one he adored the most. Just as he was slowly zooming in, after calming down enough to cease your tears, your hand cupped his own jaw to stop him.

"Not so fast, Beoms. I have to take you out on a date first." You teased, but it was an idea way within what you wanted to accomplish. He visibly lit up, a small excited squeal resonated from his throat. "Yes, please. This time, I get to to be the girl who gets taken out on dates with flowers and stuff."

Blinking away his comment, you nodded. "I don't know what that means, but sure. I've been meaning to ask you on a date, pretty boy." You blushed at the way you could just say it freely, your face in his hands, and his in yours. His eyelids fluttered at your words.

"All for me?"

"All for you. You have planned every hangout. It is the least I can do. I want you to feel just as special as you make me feel." Beomgyu nodded dreamily at that. He felt like he was on cloud 9, having to calm himself down for the date and the kiss while openly being in love with you. All for him.

ACT V.

He could not wait a second more, so the date was the very next day.

Although you had never been good at gaming, that didn't stop you from making an appointment for a slot at a PC room that served his favorite kind of food and desserts, even beer. Seeing his face light up at the realization of where you'd brought him was enough joy to have lit up the sun. He was so beautiful, and he was yours. It was in the same area as his apartment, one that now was like your second home — now that you had four, new best friends.

You both tried playing a two person game on one PC, but since you were ridiculously terrible, the date soon turned into you watching him play. Of course, he played his games with a big pout, upset at how he missed your loser skills. His teasing laugh only sealed the deal, leaving you to resume your unfair matches in his games.

Beomgyu was a real gamer. His commentary and reactions so endearing and hilarious to watch; he just possessed such contagious positive energy. You felt so happy. The date lasted hours and even after leaving the PC room, you took him to a small arcade to play some more. He helped won you a few giant prizes, sort of as pay back for one of the first times you'd hung out at an amusement park.

Once you were on the walk back, full of snacks and arcade food, stopping by for candy for a movie night with the guys, Beomgyu led you to a stop right over the bridge that you and he would take every morning to walk to that dreadful class.

"Yes?" You arched an eyebrow and jutted out your lip in confusion. Beomgyu had insisted you not wear your face mask, if you were comfortable, and with his endless praise, you did just as he had asked. It was a miracle.

He held your hand in his, locking fingers with you and his grin turning to a smirk.

"Y/N, I just wanted to thank you..." his ears burned red. You smirked in turn this time, eyes soft and tender for him. "What for, pretty boy? You're the one I should be thanking..." he giggled heartily at that, squeezing your hand.

"Y/N darling... I just wanted to thank you for having been there for me always. And for never giving up on me, and caring for me, and reassuring me all the time, and just taking me out. I feel so special and... good... when I'm with you," his shy confession made your eyes prickle. You nodded in encouragement, so he could keep going. He obliged, leaning down to press a kiss to your knuckles.

"Especially for taking me out with gaming. It really, really means a lot to me. Not-not as much as you, but... it's just that the reason I game is because I don’t have anywhere to go. All this time, I’ve been waiting for someone to invite me to go shopping together or something like that, just something. I’d look out the window and think to myself ‘wow, I really want to go out’ because the weather is so nice, but there’s no one that’s invited me to go. Even if my friends invite me out, it’s usually night time... and then, I met you." Your lips trembled into a pout. With a chuckle, Beomgyu's thumb caught your tears that were waiting to give at your bottom lashes. "I just really love you, Y/N. I'm so lucky to have you."

"I love you, Beoms." Your words came out muffled with the way you dove in to give him a bear hug, which he accepted generously.

Being in his embrace made you feel like you were a real person in a real home; it was safe. Perhaps you wouldn't be so easily free from the weight of your insecurities and he with his own doubts, but between the two of you, you would always be together, and you could always find home.

#i finally did it mwhahhah #txt imagines #txt x reader #txt scenarios #beomgyu x reader #txt angst #txt fluff #tomorrow x together imagines #tomorrow x together x reader #beomgyu imagines

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powderblueblood · 23 days

Text

BEAUTIFUL!

ronnie ecker recounts the last first day of the worst of her life or i wanted to rewrite beautiful from heathers the musical, hellfire and ice version. warnings: first person narrative (ronnie's pov), swearing, era-typical misogyny, bullying and slurs, mention of eating disorders, everyone's a dick, everyone's kind of gay for lacy doevski. wc: 3.8k

September 1st, 1984.

First day of the end of your life. It’s hard not to get a little intro-outrospective.

If I was a diary keeping person, which I’m not because I don’t like to leave a paper trail outside my own goddamn academic brilliance, I’d write something like this.

Dear diary, I believe that I’m a good person–y’know, relatively speaking, if you don’t count that one time I bit that one kid for catcalling me. But, here we are! First day of senior year! And I look around at these kids I’ve known all my life and I ask myself–what happened?

We’re in the hallway, bottlenecking toward the cafeteria. It’s right around lunchtime, so everyone’s getting a real good look at everybody else, categorizing who they hate, who they hate more, who got boobs over the summer. God, do we ever stop slinging shit at each other, even when we think no one’s listening? There’s a constant cacophony in the hallways of Hawkins High.

Freak! Slut! Burnout! Bug-eyes! Poser! Lard-ass!

And no one does anything about it.

It’s pretty sad, considering where we came from.

We were so tiny, happy and shiny, playing tag and getting chased.

Freak! Slut! Loser! Shortbus!

Singing and clapping, laughing and napping, baking cookies, eating paste. Especially me. I was crazy for that shit.

Bull-dyke! Stuck-up! Hunchback!

Then we got bigger, that was the trigger, like the Huns invading Rome. “Shit, my bad!” That underclassman I just walked straight into looked terrified. And for good reason.

Welcome to my school, this ain’t no high school. This is the Thunderdome.

Trailer trash!

For the very first very last time, I crane my head around the swamped hall and try to recall where my new locker is. First star on the right, and I wiggle in my combination and dump my books inside. I take a second, shoving my head inside the cool metal darkness (voluntarily, for once) and mutter, “Hold your breath and count the days, we’re graduating soon–”

“–Christ. College will be paradise, if I’m not dead by June.”

I crane my neck out. Two lockers up from me, elegant fingers pull open an identical door to mine except hers, of course, already has a vanity mirror hung up inside. She checks her reflection, not like it ever needs checking. One of her faithful little redheads stands beside her, smacking bubblegum so loud it makes my ears pop.

“You are so melodramatic, it’s crazy.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing…”

It sucks how the chrysalis of adolescence has made most of us completely obnoxious. I try not to be a sucker for nostalgia, but I can’t help but remember how much easier this was in middle school. Waking up on a weekday didn’t have to be like living in a segment of Creepshow.

I know, I know, I know, life can be beautiful. No plastic Jesus on my dashboard (or… handlebars, I guess) but I pray, I pray for a better way. If we changed back then, we could change again…

Then I get a whole shoulder of dork, right to the face. Bubblegum snaps between snorts, I can see that he’s been shoved my way. Yeah, we could be beautiful…

“Ow!”

Just not today. “Hey, are you okay?”

This Jansport sporting asshole twists his face up right in mine. “Get away, nerd!” Jesus Christ.

The choir of angels go on–I’m just trying to make it to the cafeteria and grab a fucking chicken pot pie. I’m starving, and I could use a little less soundtrack.

Freak! Slut! Cripple! Homo! Homo! Homo!

But, listen. It’s not a total nightmare. There’s light at the end of the tunnel. Things will get better soon as my letter comes from Harvard, Duke or Brown–

–or, NYU, if we’re being really serious.

“Wake from this coma, take my diploma–” God. This chick’s voice seems to cut through the din of the hallway like a bell, “Then I can blow this town. Dream of ivy covered walls and smoky French cafes…”

“Sooo uber pretentious!”

“Watch it, freak!” I don’t even need to turn around to figure out who that’s directed at. But, I’m a little preoccupied with singing my own tune, here! Muscling through to the lunch line, grabbing a tray while I–

“–fight the urge to strike a match and set this dump ablaze. Hey, Ronnie!”

Dude, shut up! I swing around, trying to spot the owner of that very different, very familiar dulcet tone when some duckbill hat wearing dickwad upends my lunch tray. Dressed in Hawkins Tiger green and gold, this is one of many prize dickwads.

Bear with me, I’m trying to place him.

“Ooops.”

Andy Sweeney. Indiana’s worst point guard… “whose true talent lies in being a huge dick.”

Did I mention before about that lack of filter between my brain and my mouth? I patch it up pretty good most of the time, but sometimes…

“What did you say to me, skank?” Andy demands of me all darkly and shit. It’s scary. Even if I’ve got a foot and a half on him.

“Aaah!” I recoil, looking at his flexing fists, “Nothing.”

I back up from him, way way up, leaving my mess of a lunch tray on the ground. Even though that makes me feel shitty–when did I become the guy who left stuff for the already harangued janitorial staff to clean up?

We were kind before; we can be kind once more…

Head down. Stalk through. Find the Hellfire table. But, not before someone chucks me lightly on the arm.

“Agh!” I holler before I register him. I am totally on edge. “Hey, Eddie.”

“Hey,” he grins in a sardonic way that says I cannot believe we’re putting ourselves through this again.

Eddie Munson. My best friend since pre-pube. The closest thing I’ll ever have to a brother, unless Granny finally lets me get that gecko I’ve always wanted. I’m almost eighteen, for Chrissake, I should be allowed.

Anyway, Eddie rocks. We know this. Look at him.

“We still on for movie night?” he asks.

I beam. Our first day of school comedown tradition. “Shit yeah, you’re on Jiffy Pop detail.”

Eddie’s got a little pep in his step and it jangles his wallet chain. Dude can’t help but attract attention– almost all of it unwanted. “I rented Evil Dead.”

“Hohoho, again? Wait, don’t you have it memorized by now?”

“What can I say?” Before I can even warn him, Eddie’s backstepping straight into– “I’m a sucker for a gory ending.”

“Eddie Munson, king of the trailer park! What, you didn’t qualify for free lunches this year?”

A hand comes down hard on the age-old tin lunchbox Eddie’s carrying. The clatter it makes against the lino makes me want to cover my ears and hide, especially when I see Eddie’s face. Total resignation. It’s humiliating.

This guy?

Tommy Hagan. He’s the smartest guy on the basketball team, which is kind of like being the tallest dwarf.

“Too goddamn easy, man!” he guffaws, and I would try to figure out what farm animal he most resembles, but apparently I’m too busy–

“Hey! Pick that up! Right now!” –being the hero.

“I’m sorry, are you actually talking to me?” Tommy also tries to tower over me, but I’ve got a decent number of inches on him too.

My cheeks blaze.

“Yes, I am. I wanna know what gives you the right to pick on my friend. You’re a high school has-been waiting to happen. Tell me, Tommy, do you actually have a personality outside of sticking your nose right up Steve Harrington’s ass?”

Tommy gets closer and closer. So close that I can see the nose hair move as he huffs through his freckly nostrils. His finger points right between my eyebrows.

“… you have a zit right there.”

Cue rapturous laughter from the peanut gallery.

Dear diary…

Why do they hate me? Why don’t I fight back? Why do I act like such a creep? Why won’t he date me? Why did I hit him? Why do I cry myself to sleep?

Somebody hug me! Somebody fix me! Somebody save me!

Send me a sign, God! Give me some hope here! Something to live for!

The doors of the cafeteria burst open and Tommy’s attention is thankfully wrenched away from me. Everyone’s attention is wrenched away from me. Because we’ve all been waiting for this.

They enter the caf in a solid formation, so solid that people part for them. Some gazing, some gawping, some glaring. The name calling ceases, the bullying pauses.

This is the royal court. They float above it all.

Tina Burton, head cheerleader. Her dad is loaded. He sells engagement rings.

Heather Holloway, runs the yearbook. Badly. No discernible personality, but her mom did pay for implants.

Even the lessers are notorious. Carol Perkins has been having sex since, like, seventh grade. Cass Finnigan’s been pretending to save it for Jesus but giving a backdoor key to whoever buys her peach schnapps. Nicole Summers invented three new slurs last year alone.

And finally, Lacy Doevski.

The Almighty.

She is a mythic bitch.

These girls, they’re solid Teflon. Never bothered. Never harassed–

“I would give anything to be like that.”

And I know I don’t sit in that thought alone. Glancing around the tables, the coagulation of cliques, I can hear the desire coming from my classmates.

I’d like to be their boyfriend. If I sat at their table, guys would notice me. I’d like them to be nicer.

“What’s the over-under on one of those harpies getting kidnapped, taken to some abandoned warehouse to be photographed naked and left for the rats?” Eddie mutters into my ear as we slam ourselves down at our regular table.

I roll my freakin’ eyes. “I told you that your Barb Holland theory was insane.”

Eddie shrugs, flipping open his recovered lunchbox. “Just sayin’... They never found a body. Anyway, my money's on the ice queen. If everything they're sayin' about her dad is true, she is prime ransom material.”

“You are so unnecessarily twisted.” But my eyes are still following the crown jewels. I notice that Lacy, Tina and Heather all rise to the girl’s room immediately after they finish their minimal lunch.

I interrupt Eddie and Gareth’s too-intense-for-lunchtime debate about the morality of posthumously publishing The Silmarillion. “I have to take a leak.”

As I gently push the door of the bathroom open, I can see Tina standing nervously at an open stall door. Heather is ralphing like her life depends on it. The reptilian arch of Lacy Doevski is bent towards the mirror, touching up her lipstick.

“Grow up, Heather,” Lacy says in this voice that could weirdly be misconstrued as concerned, “Bulimia is so sophmoronic.”

Tina grimaces. “Maybe you should see a doctor, Heather.”

From inside the stall, Heather’s voice echos. “Yeah, Heather– I mean, Tina. Maybe I should.”

I’m about to open my mouth, say something about ginger ale or peppermint tea, but Mrs O’Donnell enters behind me. I dive into a nearby stall, pretty confident I haven’t been spotted. But, I leave just enough of a crack in the door to watch everything that unfolds out there.

“Ah, I should have known–”

Heather vomits again. Damn, how can she pull trig so much on so little?

“–the witches from Macbeth always travel in a trio.” Her heels click over the cracked, yellowing tile, but the way Lacy turns from the mirror gives even O’Donnell pause. “Perhaps you didn’t hear the bell over all the vomiting. You’re late for class.”

Hey. Idea. I dig around in my backpack and scribble on a piece of paper, leaning against the bathroom door.

“Heather wasn’t feeling well.” Lacy says. Again, confusing enough to sound kind! “We’re helping her.”

O’Donnell chuckles all airly. Like she’s any match for her. “Not without a hall pass, you’re not. Week’s detention.”

That’s my cue. I scurry out of the stall, presenting O’Donnell with–

“Um, actually, Mrs O’Donnell, all four of us are out on a hall pass.” I gulp and glance at Heather, who’s finally hauled herself off her knees. “Yearbook committee.”

It’s super hard to breathe as O’Donnell inspects my handiwork. It hits me that this could go horribly, horribly wrong, and I can feel Lacy’s eyes boring into a hot spot on the back of my head.

O’Donnell arches her eyebrow. “I see you’re all listed. Hurry up and get where you’re going.”

She goes to hand the note back to me, but Lacy intercepts. Once the coast is clear, she takes her time looking it over.

“This is an excellent forgery,” she tells me. A drop of freezing sweat runs down my back. “Who are you?”

“Uh, Ronnie– Veronica Ecker,” I stumble. “We were lab partners last year?”

Lacy’s eyes narrow. She doesn’t remember taking the lead on coolly dissecting a frog in front of me, it seems.

“Doesn’t matter. I crave a boon.”

She holds her glare on me. Jesus, why do I feel like I’m about to have my throat slit? “What boon?”

“Um. Let me sit at your lunch table. Just once. No talking necessary. If people think that you guys tolerate me, then they’ll leave me alone…”

What? It worked for Nancy Wheeler. Even if she had to boink Steve Harrington to do it, but I can't quite stretch that far.

The girls all chorus in laughter at me. Oof.

“Before you answer, I can also do report cards, permission slips and absence notes.” Dude, I cannot tell you where this boost of bravery (or foolhardiness) is coming from.

“How about prescriptions?” Heather asks.

“Shut up, Heather,” Lacy cuts.

“Sorry, Lacy.”

Then, she zeroes in on me. Takes slow steps toward me, just like Tommy Hagan did. But her stare is tearing strips right through me. I even freaking hunch as she gets closer.

“For a greasy little nobody,” Lacy says, her voice dropping low so I have to strain to hear her, “you do have good bone structure.”

Tina and Heather must already be tuned into this Lacy-only frequency.

“And a proportional body,” Tina adds. “If someone didn’t catch you during a basket toss, you’d probably only kind of fracture your spine. That’s very important.

“Of course, you could stand to de-hobo your wardrobe.” Heather goes so far as to flick the flappy pocket on the front of my overalls. “Salvation Army much?”

“And ya know, ya know, ya know…” the shiniest jewel in the crown hums, tapping her lipstick tube against her cheek, “This could be beautiful.” Her painted fingers pinch my chin and turn it down toward her–because I’m fucking tall. “Mascara, maybe some lipgloss and we’re on our way. Get this girl some blush– and Heather, I need your brush. Let’s make her beautiful.”

A manic looking Tina produces a vanity bag out of absolutely nowhere. “Let’s make her beautiful…”

“Let’s make her beautiful?” Heather snarks, but Lacy shoves a hand in her face.

Her eyes turn on me again. Dark and sparkly and… and… smiling. At me. “Okay?”

“Okay!”

Then, whaddaya know, smash cut, it’s the next freaking day. I don’t know how that works, but I don’t see another goddamn narrator so pipe down.

The halls are their usual shitshow– Billy Hargrove shoves the new Hellfire freshman, Gareth, into a locker. Eddie hauls him up by the collar and they run headlong into a gaggle of girls, who all scream because every nerd that plays a fantasy game is contagious.

“Don’t you dare touch me!”

“Get away, pervert!”

“What did I ever do to them?” Gareth yelps, exasperated. Hard not to feel bad for the kid.

But Eddie’s sage about it, even though he knows it’s as unfair as I do. “You’ll get used to it, freshman.”

“No, dude!” Gareth pushes back, verging on a panic attack, “Who could survive this! I can’t escape this–I think I’m dying!”

O’Donnell, hot on the tardy check, appears behind the both of ‘em. “Who’s that with Lacy?”

“Damn. Someone got a welfare increase,” Nicole Summers hatefully snarls.

“Who’s the babe?” says Andy Sweeney.

But Eddie Munson, oh-ho, Eddie Munson settles his eyes into slits. Anytime, any place, he’d know–

“Veronica?!”

“Veronica?” Cass and Carol caw.

“Veronica?” Steve and Tommy mimic.

And Lacy Doevski… she looks to her dutiful right, and smirks. “Veronica?”

And you know, you know, you know, life can be beautiful!

My whole life, I haven’t had a choice but to be one of the boys. My best friend’s a boy. I’m in a band with all boys. I’m surrounded by boys all the time who make gross boy jokes and do stupid boy shit. Nobody, not even my Granny, even though she fucking rules, ever asked me if… if I wanted to put on a skirt and get my goddamned nails painted. And it’s not as if I mind being on the more masculine side of things but, shit, is it so wrong to want something? Even if I believed what I was pretty much dragged up to believe, by all my friends and the world at large around me–that being a chick was totally dumb. Couldn’t I try it on?

You hope, you dream, you pray, and you get your way!

Lacy beckoned me into her walk-in closet, which was about as big as my bedroom and smelled of gardenia, and put me in a pleated skirt set that she said didn’t fit her temperament anymore. ‘But it’d work for a novice.’

Ask me how it feels, lookin’ like hell on wheels–

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Eddie seethes as I pass, carried on the cloud of Lacy’s perfume.

‘My god, it’s beautiful!’ I’d said, spinning around in the stupid, flippy skirt.

“Those bobbleheads totally morphed her!”

‘I might be beautiful!’ I mumbled, fingering the diamond studs she put in my ears that she made Heather pierce.

“She looks like–like–” Gareth chokes.

And when you’re beautiful…

“A girl!”

… it’s a beautiful fuckin’ day!

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Now, at first, I think I’m fucking flatlining, expecting to wake up with goddamn tubes down my throat and shit– but I’m not. I’m in my regular old bed, with my regular old alarm clock screaming at me. I smash my hand down on it and jerk up, out of the covers.

First place I go is my wardrobe.

I feel the physical sensation of my heart dropping like a lead kite when I flick through my old thrift store samesies and Granny Ecker hand-me-downs to find no such minty plaid skirt set.

Just a dream.

Which is such a bullshit conceit. Sorry to break it to you.

I admit defeat and pull on my overalls, scrunching my ballcap over my head and muscle out the door. I’m already late, for me.

But–then, there’s an apparition hovering at my mailbox.

Someone who excitedly takes notice and waves when she catches me staring, arm stretching out of her fur-trimmed peacoat–which is looking a tiny touch shabbier than it used to these days.

“Happy early acceptance day, asshole!” Lacy Doevski sing-songs. Sing-songs. Which is… something I have to readjust to, given the liminal version of her I just experienced.

“Oh.. jeez,” I mutter, feeling dazed still, “I forgot that was today.”

Lacy’s brow gets all pinchy. “You okay? You look like steamed dogshit.”

“Thank you so much,” I drawl sarcastically, “It’s nothing, I slept funky. Where’s Eddie?”

Lacy shifts in herself a little, tucking hair behind her ears and avoiding my eyes. “How should I know?” Right. That. The daylight version of this little tryst they pretend they’re not having. Honestly, if the two of them would just bang it out– well, maybe things might be worse off and this weird little platonic ménage à trois of ours would be totally ruined forever, but at least I’d have to stop tiptoeing around them. “Come on, are you gonna open it or what?”

Oh, right. There’s a whole gravity of a situation supposed to be happening here.

I kind of feel the saliva gathering at the hinges in my jaw, you know the way you do when you’re about to puke your guts up? But then, I remember. Bulimia is so sophmoronic.

I yank open that rusty mailbox and a thick, thick envelope with a New York University imprint sits inside. I yank it out.

Lacy stares at me like I’m the dude holding the thing the Ten Commandments were written on.

I’m not drawing this shit out. I am not teasing myself, dude, you couldn’t pay me to–savagely, I rip the envelope open, which makes Lacy cringe. She probably has a little knife for these sorts of things, knowing her.

Dear Veronica,

Congratulations! I am delighted to inform you…

“Holy fucking shit.”

“Well…?”

I thrust that hot, heavy paper right into that pretty girl’s face. “Full. Goddamned. Ride.”

Lacy gasps, grasping the letter so hard it leaves claw marks. Her eyes shake back and forth, reading and re-reading the whole acceptance ream. It’s weird, and I know it’s weird, but I’m standing there, looking at her and trying to make her make sense with the Lacy that showed up in my dream. That girl existed, and she was mystifying, in a horrifying way. A total reign of ice cold terror. But now, I’m staring at Lacy, who’s all short, weird angles and specific enthusiasm and… it’s hard to see how those two girls ever lived in the same body.

She’s a little Whitman. She’s got those multitudes. And, actually, so do I.

“I knew it!” Lacy hisses, “And I want you to know that I’m not at all bitter. While I should be celebrating early acceptance with you, I’m glad–”

I grin at her. “You’re a little bitter.”

“Fine, I’m a little bitter, but I’m mostly excited. New York City, Ron! That’s transformative!”

“Yeah… speaking of. Lacy?”

“Yes?”

Dreams are meant to be prophetic and shit, right?

“Doyouwannagivemeamakeover?”

She cocks her head at me. She still hasn’t let go of that acceptance letter yet. “What?”

“Do you.” I take the envelope from her hands. I know she’s capable of identity theft. “Want to give me. A makeover.”

“Huh?” Her fingers stay curled around imaginary paper. Oh, my god.

“You heard me! And I hate repeating myself!” I flail a little. I get like that, quick to bug sometimes. “Look, you said it, New York is gonna be… transformative. I’m going to be a freaking lawyer, dude, fingers crossed, all going well.”

Lacy nods, not a hair out of place, with perfect confidence,“You are.”

“And when was the last time you saw a lawyer wearing fuckin’ overalls?! Huh? The people vs Howdy Doody?”

“I like your overalls.” I know she’s saying this because it’s the right thing to say, and she’s been practicing doing that really hard. She also might like them now, after repeated exposure, in a Stockholm syndrome sort of way.

“But they don’t scream esquire,” I impress upon her. And it’s true. I truly do believe that I can’t set foot in New York fucking City looking like I just fell off the back of a turnip truck–nor do I want to.

It takes a big fat beat, but her face changes. Lacy looks almost dastardly–dark, sparkling eyes like Lacy from the dream. She looks me right over, making the calculations of how to reupholster tragically unfashionable me in her mind. And then she arches her eyebrow.

“Well, remember… you asked, Veronica.”

#published by powder #r. ecker by powder #hai brainrot #ronnie ecker #stranger things fic #l. doevski by powder #this is really just wish fulfillment for me it's been stuck in my maladaptive head for weeks

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littleheartbigbrain · 9 months

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Mystic Messenger characters and where you would find them at school and general headcannons

Yoosung, Zen, Saeyoung, Jumin, Rika, Saeran

Yoosung: I think you'd notice him in history class, he would be so flabbergasted by the events that the teacher is talking about. Would and will raise his hand just to say that it's horrible. No shit Sherlock. Would hang out with Saeran and scold Saeyoung for startling him, and pair up with Saeran during P.E. I think he would be in the exact middle between being popular and going unnoticed. Like, people notice him when he's with his popular friends but I don't think they will notice him for HIM. Would get a couple of girls having a crush on him but no fangirls

Zen: In the school cafeteria. He would be SURROUNDED. Like you couldn't even see him with all the girls and boys around him. Would start a food fight and everyone else but him would get into trouble. He's that kid that every female teacher loves so much that it starts to feel illegal. He seems like those people who never eat school lunches despite being in the cafeteria, but I think everyone would let him be because you do not wanna get beef with his fangirls.

707/Saeyoung: IN MATH CLASS. I CANNOT SAY IT ENOUGH IN MATH CLASS. He would correct the teacher so much that the teacher hates him for it. But nobody can deny that he's a genius. Would crack a few jokes during class which would make the teacher hate him even more but I don't think he cares. Would give Zen the idea to start a food fight and then run away so that he doesn't get in trouble. He would be very very popular because of being a class clown and Zen's friend, on top of being charismatic and handsome.

Jumin: In foreign literature class. He's one of those ib student, and probably gets the best grades. Wouldn't eat in the cafeteria bc bro's too good for that, no but I feel like he would be this kid with a hundred intolerance and allergy. Very serious to the point where it's annoying. Always gets picked in group projects tho because he will get the best grade and everybody knows that. His father probably donates a LOT to the school. He's pretty popular amongst the girls because he's quite handsome and stupidly rich, so he's got a good amount of fangirls around the school. The boys make fun of him for being stuck-up tho.

Rika: You'd probably find her in the library helping the librarian or doing extra work in the classroom. She's the perfect pretty girl. If a cat infiltrates the school, will pet it and defend it from those weird ass people that wanna hit it. Would get the best grades and I feel like she would take latin as an option (worst choice of life btw). She would be fairly popular amongst the student body because of her very very popular friends. Will get a burnout in the middle of the year and maybe quit school for a bit.

Saeran: Behind a tree reading. I think he would be an ib student too and for that reason would have a lot of books to read. And since he doesn't wanna hang out with Saeyoung to avoid getting in trouble, he would read those books at school. Will still be targeted by Saeyoung for pranks tho, but nothing mean just annoying enough to make Saeran go away with a big loud huff. He wouldn't eat in the cafeteria but he would still get his plate and then go to his tree again. Basically if you wanna find him he'll be next to his tree lmao. He's a hot topic at school because he's very calm and shy on top of being very pretty, so people think he's mysterious yk yk. Probably has a group of fangirls he's unaware of.

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norskikitty · 1 year

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"Good enough" | Tord comfort fic

Hey hello hi, I decided to write a little comfort fic for all the folks out there who are experiencing burnout at the moment. I know I for one am feeling it like a ton of bricks- Anyways, please enjoy and remember to take care of yourself <3

------------------------------------------------------------------------

8:00 pm. Finally, the day was over.

You felt yourself practically melt into the plush mattress of your bed the minute your body hit it. You were tired, that was certain. If it hadn't been for the thoughts in your mind running rampant, you probably would've passed out right then and there. You groaned, rolling over and squinting your eyes at the bright LED display on your phone. So many drafts, unfinished artwork, a few assignments that were passed due.

Truth be told, you were unsatisfied. You got a good amount of work done through the day but you couldn't seem to shake the feeling of dread that was hanging on your shoulders. It seemed to weigh you down, making even the most basic of tasks the hardest to complete.

Your thoughts were immediately interrupted by a quiet knock at your door, followed by a man's voice that seemed to have an accent, "Hello? Are you in there?" he called out to you from the hallway outside your room, waiting for a response before making any attempts to open your door.

"Yeah I'm here. Come in." You replied plainly, sitting yourself up and rubbing at your eyes in an attempt to make yourself more presentable. The man opened the door, taking a few steps inside and offering you a gentle grin as he spoke, "Ah, there you are! How are you doing?" He came a bit closer, taking a seat on the edge of your bed as his grin faltered ". . You seem different, is something going on?"

Truth be told, Tord could read you like a book. From small body movements to the tone of your voice, he could tell if you were doing well or not. Sure, he didn't always know what exactly was wrong, but he could tell, and he always tried to fix it.

You sighed, deciding to be honest, knowing he would pester you to no end if you didn't tell him, "I'm just falling behind a bit. Projects are piling up and it's a little too much."

Now his attention was completely on you, his expression shifting into a bit of a smirk as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you in, "Creative burnout got you down, ah?" You nodded wordlessly, knowing full well that the inventor would understand entirely, "Well that won't do, let's fix it hm?"

Next thing you knew, he had picked you up and begun to dance around in a goofy manner, swinging you around with a wicked grin as he struggled to hold back his childish giggles, "LET'S GET THOSE CREATIVE JUICES FLOWING AGAIN, COMRADE!!"

You couldn't help but squeal, finding a bit of comfort in his touch even if it was for the goofiest reason. He was trying, and that's something he doesn't do for just anyone.

"OKAY OKAY, PUT ME DOWN!!" You squealed, barely able to contain your own laughter as he continued to swing you around. Eventually though, he came to a stop and fell back onto your bed with you locked tightly in his arms. Various plush toys and blankets went flying upon the impact, covering the both of you and muffling your laughter. He brushed a blanket aside to reveal your face, his ecstatic grin still plastered on his face.

"Look, Y/N.." His tone took on a serious yet caring nature, his smile softening as he continued to hold you, "This isn't abnormal. You're not weird for struggling with these feelings. More importantly, we have ways to.. how you say.. cope, with these emotions." He brought his hand up to your head, ruffling your hair affectionately, "And hey, I'm right here to help if you get stuck on anything! You know I'd never leave you behind."

A gentle sigh seemed to leave the two of you as the weight of the universe began to lighten. He was only one person, but you knew he was here to help, here to stay.

"Sometimes a little back up is all you need, ah comrade?" He smirked, his usual cocky demeanor returning, "Believe me, you're doing just fine and no matter what anyone says, I believe you're good enough."

He pulled you in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead as an act of comfort ". . Now then, how about we practice some self care, hm? I believe snacks and a movie would be nice right about now." He held you a bit tighter, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed and standing up, holding you in his arms as he began to walk off.

"How about return of the insane zombie pirates from hell four?"

Some things never change, but maybe it'll get a bit easier.

#eddsworld #eddsworld fic #tord x reader #eddsworld tord #tord x reader comfort #im so tired omfg please #tord cuddles please #tord my beloved

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lesbians4kurt · 4 months

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when you know, you know

happy holidays, @luckynumber4 @ronald-speirs @lena-basilone idk which one to tag :3 i was ur secret santa, here to feed u sledgefu!!!!!! i hope u like it :D

word count: 13.4k

summary: Eugene, a burnt-out Ph.D. candidate, finds himself carpooling with Snafu, a complete stranger, on their way to Burgie's wedding.

The humid evening air of May had long since swept over Auburn as Eugene pages through countless notes, the sound of rustling paper permeating his apartment. It’s month three of researching for his Ph.D. dissertation, and although he knows this is only the beginning, that in a year he’ll most likely still be working on it, he’s already experiencing all the warning signs of burnout. He’s managed these past few months to follow the strict schedule he’d created, keeping himself fully on track with every scrap of discipline he possesses, but an itching restlessness had begun burrowing itself in the back of his brain last week, and his concentration has been off ever since. He needs to find a new angle, take a little break, and approach the daunting process with new eyes. He just needs to hold out for another week: Burgie’s wedding.

Burgie is a close friend from Eugene’s undergrad days, they had even shared an apartment for a few semesters. They meet up every few months for a drink and catch up, texting every other week or so. Eugene wishes they could meet more frequently, but he hardly has time to see his family, let alone friends. Burgie had gotten engaged about a year ago, and Eugene is looking forward to his upcoming wedding as a chance to wind down. He’s happy for Burgie too, of course; no one deserves happiness as much as him, the most kindhearted person Eugene knows.

Eugene closes his eyes and sighs. He can’t stay focused at all. He just needs to hang on to his last thread of motivation for a little longer, but every task seems impossible. He sits back in his chair and rubs a hand across his face, figuring he’d close his eyes for a moment before continuing. Maybe he’d take a break for a snack in a minute, drink some water, turn on a meditation…

Bzzz.

Eugene jolts awake 40 minutes later, curled up in his chair, back stiff. He silently thanks whoever is texting him. That was stupid, if he had kept sleeping he might not have woken up until his morning alarm. He almost drops his phone trying to unlock it and squints his tired eyes as he tries to read the screen. Weirdly, the text is from Burgie. It’s well past midnight and Eugene has never known him to stay up so late. If it was someone else, he might ignore the text, but he decides to open it.

Hey, call me when you see this.

Oh? Eugene’s skin prickles with worry and he immediately presses the call button.

Burgie spares Eugene’s nerves by picking up immediately. “Hello?”

“Hey, what did you need?” Eugene asks, hoping nothing has gone wrong with the wedding.

“Hey, I was wondering if I could ask you a favor.” Burgie’s cadence is upbeat, melting away the icy worry that had frozen over Eugene’s chest.

“Sure, anything,”

“Okay, so, one of my best friends lives in New Orleans, and his car gave out on him a few days ago. I was wondering if you could pick him up on your way here. I assume you’re driving?”

Burgie’s right, he would be driving. Eugene has had an extreme phobia of airplanes ever since childhood, making the numerous family vacations he went on a humiliating ordeal. He would get sick or start hyperventilating a few minutes after take-off like clockwork. Logically, he knows he’s safe, but fear isn’t logical. The combination of heights and confined space is just too much for him to handle. Despite his phobia, his mother insists on going on trips that require a plane ride and is offended that he refuses to go on these vacations in adulthood.

“Yeah, I’ll be driving,” Eugene half chuckles before getting more serious. “So, who is he?”

“His name’s Snafu. Well, it’s Merriell Shelton, but we all called him Snafu, anyway,” Burgie says, a fondness so strong taking over his voice that Eugene can recognize it even over the phone. “He can’t really afford a plane ticket. I know it’s probably out of your way, but it would mean a lot to me if you could drive him.”

Eugene has to keep himself from sighing. He knows this detour will add about an hour or so to his drive, and he’ll have to drive over eight hours from New Orleans to Fort Worth with some guy he doesn’t even know. What will they talk about? Will it be awkward silence all the way? Will he have to drive him back too?

“Of course, Burgie. I’ll drive him for you,” Eugene ends up saying before thinking about it any further. The favor is simple, really, and he wouldn’t want Burgie to be missing one of his best friends at his own wedding. Plus, Burgie has been an amazing friend to Eugene, never giving up on him no matter how busy he is and never letting things become awkward between them.

“Thanks, Eugene! Really, thank you.” Burgie sounds elated, putting a soft smile on Eugene’s face. “I can’t wait to see you. We’ve barely talked since you started your dissertation research.”

“I’ve barely talked to my own mother since I started,” Eugene jokes. “And you know how she is about phone calls.”

Burgie laughs and Eugene is reminded of how much he misses just talking to him.

They chat for a few more minutes before Burgie decides he needs to get to bed. After hanging up the phone, Eugene stretches before standing up and pacing for a few minutes. That short nap and talking to Burgie rejuvenated him, and despite it being past one in the morning, he decides he has enough energy to continue working for another hour before going to sleep. He pours himself a glass of water and grabs a few crackers before sitting back down at his desk, resuming.

The next few days pass similarly: Eugene eats every meal at his desk as he researches and researches and researches, staying up late every night. He leaves his apartment every morning to meet with his professors or attend a class, but otherwise, he spends every waking moment on his research, his newfound motivation from the phone call sticking to him. He’s almost disappointed now that he’ll be leaving for the wedding soon as it will interrupt his productivity, but he reminds himself that upon his return he’ll probably be even more inspired.

Four days before the wedding, Eugene realizes he hasn’t bought gifts yet and spends six frantic hours online shopping. If there’s one thing he’ll be eternally bad at it’s picking out gifts; he spends hours overthinking every purchase only to feel the gift he chooses is shallow and impersonal. Of course, this time proves no different. He buys Burgie and his bride-to-be, Florence, a set of matching watches and a bottle of champagne. He knows people normally buy small kitchen appliances or home decor, but he eats TV dinners every night and the white walls of his apartment are blank, so he’s not very experienced in either of those departments. Plus, he has no idea what they already own or what they might need. As he plugs in his credit card information and confirms his purchase, he sighs and thanks God for two-day shipping. He lays awake in bed that night wondering if his gift properly conveys his love and appreciation for Burgie, and frets about it until the early hours of the morning before deciding to write a heartfelt card for good measure, drifting off to sleep.

The following night, Eugene finds himself increasingly curious about this Snafu character he’ll be driving with for eight hours. Merriell “Snafu” Shelton, huh? He bites his lip as he opens his computer, quickly googling the name. The only relevant result is from one of those sketchy phonebook websites, and he immediately feels stupid and guilty. But not guilty enough to stop him from stalking Burgie’s Facebook for any signs of the guy. Again he finds nothing, and the wave of shame hits him again. He should be working anyway, but his curiosity is slowly morphing into anxiety and he really wishes he had asked Burgie a few more questions. He calms himself by rationalizing: Burgie wouldn’t be friends with some insane weirdo. Everything will be fine. He closes the tabs he was using for stalking and continues his work.

Two days before the wedding is the day Eugene decides to depart. He knows his mother will be upset if she finds out that he drove right through Mobile without stopping by, so he’ll visit his parents first and spend the night there. Tomorrow he’ll leave Mobile, drive two hours to New Orleans, and then drive eight hours to Fort Worth, so he better be well rested. He spends his morning and early afternoon packing up a suitcase and waiting for his parcels to arrive in the mail, practically jumping the postman when he rounds the corner. He wraps them carefully in gold paper before placing them in a gift bag, then struggles to write a heartfelt card for about 40 minutes. He’s ready to leave the house at 3 PM and packs the gifts into his backseat, perhaps being overly cautious when he buckles the bag in with the seatbelt. As he sits down in the driver’s seat, he thinks he should probably call his mother to let her know he’s coming. He quickly shakes this thought out of his head, knowing that any phone conversation with her gets strung out for several hours and ends with him nearly tearing his hair out with stress and annoyance. Instead, he shoots his father a text as a warning and puts his phone on silent in case his mother ends up calling him in response before starting his car and taking off. He’s the type of driver others get angry being behind, the type people assume are old ladies and scream at angrily as they pass. He likes to say he’s meticulous and cautious, but any passenger he’s ever had groans at his slow pace. It occurs to him that Snafu will probably complain about it too, and the thought somehow embarrasses him even though he hasn’t even met Snafu yet.

He arrives in Mobile four hours later, mentally preparing himself to face his parents as he pulls into the driveway. The house of his childhood stands before him in all its grandeur. It’s an old manor house built in the 1800s, with the rest of Mobile slowly rising around it. It stands only one story high, but to Eugene, it’s always been an imposing structure that never quite felt like home. There’s no denying it’s a beautiful house; tall willow trees frame the wraparound porch and its accompanying Greek revival-style pillars, and large flowerbeds color the ground below. A large, freshly mowed yard stands between Eugene and the front door. He takes a deep, shaky breath before taking the first steps. He never likes visiting here, everything is so suffocating.

As he approaches the large, mahogany door he has the same debate with himself he always does when he comes here. Does he knock or just walk in? The further removed he becomes from living here the more the answer to that question becomes knock, but his mother always makes a comment about him knocking, about how this is his home. Regardless, he decides to knock and waits anxiously as he hears rushed footsteps approach the door. It swings open aggressively and there his mother is, a huge smile splitting her face in two, every tooth on display. Before he can even tell himself to smile back, she pulls him into a tight embrace. He drops his bag to the floor before awkwardly wrapping his arms around her and squeezing his eyes shut. It begins.

“I’m just so happy to see you, Eugene,” she gasps into his ear, and for a moment he’s scared she’s going to cry. She pulls away from him and brings her hands to his face, cupping his cheeks.

“I missed you too, Mom,” Eugene says sheepishly. It’s not that he doesn’t. She can just… be too much. Too hot and cold.

She rubs his arms a few times before taking his hand and leading him through the door. “Well, let’s get you inside. You look exhausted. I can tell you haven’t been eating properly, Eugene. You’re going to make yourself sick.”

He doesn’t reply and merely lets himself be dragged inside, resigning himself to his fate. She’d probably make him eat three meals worth of food now.

“You didn’t have to knock, Eugene. You’ve come home,” she says, clasping his hand a little tighter as she speaks, leading him through the hall.

Eugene suppresses an eye roll in response. Of course, that comment. It’s like clockwork.

She stops once they enter the dining room where his father is seated at the head, reading a newspaper as he waits for dinner. A genuine smile softens Eugene’s face when he sees him.

His father puts down the newspaper. “Hey, Fritz!” he says, standing and making his way up to Eugene to properly greet him. Fritz is an old nickname from when Eugene was a little boy. He’s not sure where it came from, or when it started, but his father has affectionately called him that for as long as he can remember.

“Hey, Dad,” Eugene says softly, pulling his father into a hug.

“It’s good to see you, son.”

They hold the hug for a good minute, just swaying back and forth with the occasional pat on the back. If this house isn’t home, his father’s embrace is. He’s filled with a sense of comfort and ends the hug with the strength he needs to get through the rest of the visit.

“Dinner’s just about ready, Eugene. Have a seat and I’ll be out with it in a minute,” Mary Frank says, rubbing his arm again before walking off toward the kitchen.

Eugene turns to his father, who holds out a hand toward the table. They both take a seat, Eugene to his father’s left, the same place he always sat as a boy. His mother will sit across from him to his father’s right. The table is already set and Eugene feels a little bad that he interrupted their dinner preparations, or that he didn’t arrive early enough to help.

“So, Fritz,” his father begins. “How’s the research?”

“It’s been… overwhelming,” Eugene replies earnestly. “I enjoy it and everything but… The fact that it’s been three months and I’ve barely even started…”

“I know, it’s a long road ahead of you. I remember those days myself.” His father reaches out and places a reassuring hand on Eugene’s own. “I know you’ll make it through. Just keep persevering.”

Eugene’s soft smile from earlier returns as his eyes almost glaze over with tears. He hadn’t realized, but he’d needed to hear those words. Especially from his father. To feel like someone was proud of him.

The moment is gone when his mother returns, placing a shepherd's pie in the middle of the table. “I wish I’d known you were coming earlier, I would’ve cooked more,” she says. “We need to fatten you back up. Remember when your brother first lived on his own? He didn’t eat right and almost landed himself in the hospital!” She’s exaggerating. Sure, Eddie hadn’t been eating properly, but he just felt lethargic and lightheaded. He hadn’t even gone to the doctor, let alone the hospital.

“Mom, I’ve lived on my own for the good part of a decade now,” Eugene deadpans, pushing his food around with his fork.

“Has it really been that long? And still no girlfriend?”

Oh. Now she’d struck a chord.

“Mom,” Eugene says firmly. “We talked about this.”

She doesn’t look up at him, merely takes a bite of her dinner as she answers, “Well, I haven’t accepted it.”

“Now, Mary Frank–” his father begins.

Eugene all but throws his fork down on his plate. “I’m gay,” he seethes out through gritted teeth.

“Oh, do you have to make an argument out of everything, Eugene?!” She slams a hand on the table, making her plate clatter in its place. “Am I not allowed to hope for your happiness?”

“But you’re not! And you started it!” Eugene can feel his face flushing as his hands clench painfully into fists. “I…” He makes brief eye contact with his father and wills himself to calm down, knowing this isn’t worth it. She’ll never understand. She doesn’t want to. “I can’t… I’m gonna go out to Deacon’s spot.”

Eugene wipes his mouth with a napkin and has to force himself not to throw it down on the table. As he stands, his mother calls out to him to finish eating, but he ignores her as he makes his way out the back door. He shuts the door behind him and takes a moment to close his eyes and enjoy the evening air. The sun is setting, painting the sky a beautiful pink, and he can smell the bay in the breeze. Even if he doesn’t miss this house, he does miss Mobile. The flatlands and plains of northern Alabama just don’t hold the same charm as the gulf. He turns his gaze from the sky to a group of willow trees across the expanse of the backyard and begins walking toward them. As he approaches, a small bench comes into view, along with a sizable rock that protrudes from the ground: Deacon’s grave.

Deacon was Eugene’s childhood dog, a birthday present from his father the day he turned nine. He was the best dog anyone could have asked for. He slept in Eugene’s bed, comforted him when he was sad, and followed along when he went on bike rides. Leaving him behind when he went to college was one of the hardest things Eugene’s ever had to do, no matter how silly that sounds. Deacon was hit by a car two months into that first semester and Eugene was devastated, not leaving his dorm for anything but class. Burgie spent weeks trying to cheer him up enough to go out and have fun again. Eugene went home a few weekends later, and by then his father had buried Deacon under the willow trees. He spent nearly the entire visit just sitting at the grave. The next time he visited, his father had placed a bench there. Eugene’s never thanked him for it, an unspoken favor with unspoken gratefulness.

“Hello, boy, it’s me,” Eugene whispers to the ground at his feet. He sits on his haunches for a moment, stroking the grass in front of the stone with a hesitant hand, before sitting on the bench. He lets silence overtake him and tries not to think of the argument at the table. He wishes he hadn’t risen to his mother’s comment. He wishes she hadn’t said anything at all. He wishes he never came. Guilt burns in his chest for admitting that thought, but he knows it’s true. Everything will be fine. He can go to bed early, and tomorrow he’ll be on his way. It’s fine.

Too soon, Eugene hears the back door swing open and footsteps approaching. When he looks up, he sees his father, and his shoulders drop a little. Small mercies.

“Fritz… Eugene, I’m sorry for what your mother said back there,” he says, sitting down beside his son. “I just spoke to her, and–”

“It’s okay, Dad,” mutters Eugene. “I know how she feels. It’s never going to change, no matter how many talks you have with her.”

“I’m not sure that’s fair, son. She’s making progress–”

“No,” he interrupts. “No, Dad. It’s been years. I don’t want any excuses anymore. All I want... All I want is for her to just love me. Love me without all these conditions.” Eugene’s voice cracks a bit on the last sentence, and his eyes lock on Deacon’s grave, not daring to look at his father in case the tears in his eyes are obvious.

They sit in silence. Eugene hears his father’s mouth open a few times as though to speak, but it closes again after a few seconds each time. Ultimately, he places a hand on Eugene’s shoulder in comfort, and they just sit in each other’s presence for a few moments. Eugene feels numb. The tears have gone from his eyes and an empty cavity opens in his chest like quicksand. His father couldn’t deny anything. A small part of him, an inch of his being, had hoped that he’d been wrong, that he’d just been misunderstanding his mother, that she loves him fully and has his best interest at heart, just with a funny way of showing it. But no, he was right all along, and this silence is all the proof he needs.

As the silence sinks into awkwardness, his father squeezes his shoulder and stands up from the bench. “Give me a minute, I’ll be back with a check for you.”

“Dad, that’s really not necessary. I–”

“Just let me do this.” His father turns away without another word, walking back toward the house.

If there’s one thing Eugene dislikes about his father, it’s his generosity. His parents are paying what scholarships and grants don’t cover for his education, and his father insists on paying half the rent for his apartment. Eugene has tried to tell them that between his stipend, tutoring, and being a teaching and research assistant, he can pay his own way now, but they refuse to listen, especially his father. He’s a grown man, and it makes it uncomfortable to think he’s still dependent on his parents.

His father returns in a few minutes, check in hand, and Eugene reluctantly accepts it but makes a mental note to shred it without depositing it later. He doesn’t want to take any more of his father’s money. Afterward, they say a tense goodnight, and Eugene finds himself staring up at the ceiling of his childhood bedroom. It’s early, only around 9 PM, and he feels restless, especially in this environment. The room is mostly barren, picked apart over the years. All the books on the shelf had been donated or taken to his apartment, all his old clothes given away, and some of his furniture sold in a yard sale. The room he used to spend all day in couldn’t make him more uncomfortable.

Eugene tries to concentrate on falling asleep, knowing he has a long day ahead of him. He tosses and turns for what seems like hours before his thoughts land on Snafu. Oh, yeah. He almost forgot he’s supposed to pick him up tomorrow. Will they get along? Being trapped in a confined space with someone you can’t stand for eight hours seems grim, so he hopes for the best. What does he look like? What did he get Burgie as a gift? Will it make Eugene’s gift look stupid? These thoughts carry him to sleep.

Eugene’s mother wakes him the next morning, opening the bedroom door and calling out his name. He sits up and rubs his eyes before making sleepy eye contact with her. She gives him a weak smile before walking away. He groggily pries himself out of bed before getting ready for the day. It’s early, just past 6 AM, meaning he’d slept for maybe eight hours after all of that tossing and turning. He can’t fathom how his mother wakes up this early every day. She’s always had this habit for as long as he can remember, waking up with the sun and making breakfast. He can smell it now, the savory scent of eggs frying as he dresses himself. The thought of sitting down to eat with his mother is daunting after the events of the previous night, but he figures if she’s dead set on pretending nothing is wrong, he can play along.

Eugene greets his mother as he sits down for a breakfast of over-easy eggs and cheesy grits. It’s one of his favorites, and he figures maybe this is her way of apologizing. He’s grateful for the food, of course, but he has no appetite. Regardless, he takes a bite, determined to avoid giving the impression that he’s still upset. The two eat in silence until his father enters the room, sitting down at the table and pouring himself a mug of coffee.

“Good morning,” his father greets, and the two murmur replies between bites of food. “Eugene, you mentioned in your text you’re headed to a wedding today?”

“Yeah, my friend Burgie’s wedding. From college,” says Eugene, staring down at his food. “He lives in Fort Worth, so it’s quite a ways.”

“Why didn’t you fly? It would’ve saved you some trouble,” his mother chimes in. She’s entirely serious and Eugene once again has to battle an eye roll.

“I’m terrified of flying, Mom,” he says flatly, taking a brief moment to close his eyes and quell the rising anger in his chest.

“You need to get over that childish fear, Eugene,” she almost snorts. “It’s a plane ride, not skydiving.”

“I felt like a drive,” asserts Eugene loudly. He bites back the argument that’s attempting to claw its way out of his throat and goes back to eating.

“Alright,” is all his mother says in reply, and the three of them lapse back into a silence that continues for the rest of the meal.

When 7 AM rolls around, Eugene decides it’s time for him to leave and is filled with relief. He can’t stand the stuffy atmosphere of this house for much longer. Even the idea of being in a car with a total stranger is more appealing than spending even one more minute in his mother’s company. He gathers his things and meets his parents at the door, bag in hand.

“Well, I’ll be off,” he says, discomfort clear in his voice.

His father hugs him first. “I love you, son. See you soon.”

Eugene leans into the hug, calmed slightly by the embrace. “I love you too, Dad.”

Eventually, they separate, and Eugene is forced to face his mother, whose eyes appear to be filling with tears. She hugs him abruptly, sobbing into his shoulder, and he’s left frozen in place.

“Come visit more often, Eugene. Please,” she whispers, a fist full of Eugene’s shirt, squeezing him so hard it hurts. “I love you.”

He’s not sure how to react and merely rubs her back, forcing out a numb, “I love you too.”

They say their final goodbyes, Eugene’s mother still sobbing, now in his father’s arms. He gives them a wave and steps outside, quickly shutting the door behind him. His stress is immediately alleviated after leaving his mother’s presence, and he is left with a bittersweet longing for human connection. For someone who will understand. He finds solace, however, in the bright morning sky as he steps back across that large yard, toward his car. Time to get this shit done.

Eugene opens his texts from Burgie and plugs Snafu’s address into the GPS on his phone. Once he begins, he can fully concentrate on driving, still at his cautious snail’s pace. Focusing on the road and the directions keeps him from thinking about the visit with his parents, his mother’s crying face, and how the two of them will never understand each other. Well, maybe he thinks about it a little and has to shake the thought from his head, but he mostly focuses on driving.

The drive goes smoothly, except for when Eugene struggles to stave off a panic attack crossing over Lake Ponchartrain. He hates driving over any body of water, let alone on the five-and-a-half-mile-long, 30-foot-high Twin Span Bridge. He pants for air as he inches forward toward the high-rise section, cars beeping behind him. His sweaty palms clench the steering wheel tightly as the road elevates beneath him, gritting his teeth. Once he’s over the hump, he breathes a sigh of relief and feels a bit better about the remainder of the bridge. He drives on smoothly but wishes the water would stop reflecting the sun into his eyes. At least he wasn’t forced to go over the Causeway. He considers that bridge a deathtrap and has always avoided taking any route that includes the nearly 24-mile-long monstrosity.

Once Eugene is past the bridge, he continues down I-10. He’s officially in New Orleans East. Slowly, the area around the road transforms from unkempt trees and shrubs to a neighborhood. Duplexes with chainlink fences roll by, some surrounded by empty lots. The area had clearly never fully recovered from Katrina all those years ago, as Eugene remembers taking a day trip to an amusement park that was in the area as a child. The GPS announces that he’s arriving at his destination on the right, and he pulls into the driveway. The house is identical to many others he’s passed by, with white panels that could use cleaning and a porch covered in chipping paint. A lump of anxiety rises in his throat, which he swallows with guilt. How childish to judge someone he doesn’t know based on where they live. He double-checks his text message from Burgie to confirm that this is indeed the correct house and to find out which apartment in the duplex is Snafu’s. Knocking on the wrong door would embarrass Eugene so thoroughly that he might never recover, so it’s worth it to be sure.

After quelling his anxiety with a few deep breaths, Eugene steps out of his car and heads up the stairs of the porch, cringing as the steps creak loudly under his feet. He stands in front of Snafu’s door motionless for a second, gathering courage, before knocking. He waits and waits, ninety seconds passing with no response. He battles with himself internally on whether or not it’s too soon to knock again before deciding he has to as there’s been no noise from inside. He thumps the door louder and longer the second time around, hoping that doesn’t come off as rude. There’s no response again and Eugene begins to doubt himself. Maybe he had read the address wrong or the apartment number, or maybe he hadn’t been loud enough. Just as he raises a fist to knock again the door flies open and he jumps back, heart racing.

The man at the door is approximately Eugene’s age, a few inches shorter with dark, curly hair. His eyes are squinted and his face is puffy, and his tan skin is on full display as he’s shirtless. Eugene’s knocking must have woken him from a deep sleep. He blinks slowly a few times before grumbling out, “Who the fuck are you?”

Eugene shuts his mouth, which had been left agape, and straightens himself out. “Um, I’m Eugene Sledge, Burgie’s friend. You’re Snafu, right? I’m here to pick you up.” He reaches out to shake hands but avoids eye contact. In fact, he avoids looking at the shirtless man altogether and feels his cheeks burning a dusty pink. He hopes he doesn’t seem like an idiot. God, why does he always have to make a fool of himself around attractive people?

Snafu looks down at Eugene’s outstretched hand for a moment but ignores it, instead replying, “Yeah, that’s me.”

Eugene stands in silence for a moment, shoving his hands into his pockets clumsily when he realizes his handshake has been rejected. Still staring at a spot behind Snafu, he waits for him to continue speaking. He doesn’t, and Eugene's skin crawls with discomfort. He clears his throat and makes accidental eye contact with Snafu, whose eyes are now wide, gazing directly at Eugene’s face with a smirk. Eugene’s mouth goes dry under that gaze, those piercing blue eyes making him feel small. He’s not sure whether Snafu’s smirk is playful or cruel, but either way, he’s sure the intention is to make him uncomfortable.

“Um, did Burgie not tell you I was coming?” Eugene finally says, licking his dry lips, not looking away from Snafu’s eyes. He feels trapped in the eye contact, almost hypnotized.

“He did, I’m jus’ surprised you’re here so early,” Snafu replies. His smirk dissipates as he lets out a catlike yawn, fully exposing his angular jaw.

Eugene swallows hard, finally looking away from Snafu’s face. “Well, um, long drive ahead of us,” he says. “Burgie wants to get together for dinner tonight anyway, so we should get going.”

“Okay.”

Before Eugene can even contemplate a reply, Snafu slams the door in his face. Not sure what to do, he reaches for the doorknob before realizing that’s probably a bad idea; he can’t just walk into the guy’s house. He hears a faint rummaging from inside and slowly presses an ear to the door, curiosity getting the better of him. Snafu must be packing up, and by the sound of it, he’s in a hurry, smashing things about. After a minute or two, the noise dissipates, and hasty footsteps take its place. Eugene jerks away from the door, nearly taking one too many steps backward and falling down the stairs behind him. As he regains his footing, the front door swings open, and he pretends to be examining one of the porch columns intently.

Snafu emerges, fully clothed now with a duffle bag over his shoulder, and raises an eyebrow as though Eugene is the crazy one. “Let’s fuckin’ go. I thought you were in a hurry or whatever,” he says, pushing past Eugene toward the car.

Eugene stares at his back, confounded at Snafu’s audacity. As he follows behind, he realizes this drive might be even worse than he realized. Out of every possibility he had considered, he never imagined Snafu being this rude. Or attractive, but mostly the rude part.

“Where should I put my stuff?” Snafu asks once Eugene reaches the car, waving his duffle bag in front of him.

“Just a second,” Eugene says. “Let me pop the trunk.” He feels Snafu’s gaze on the back of his neck as he unlocks the door. He feels awkward like a kid having to read aloud in class. Can’t this guy look at anything else?

Snafu snorts. “You were standin’ a few yards away from your car the whole time an’ you still locked the door?”

Eugene just lets out a shaky fake laugh, not sure what to say. He’s an anxious person who locks his car when he pumps gas. He presses a button and hears the trunk pop before getting up out of the car.

“Typical,” says Snafu under his breath, and Eugene can hear the smirk on his lips. It’s like Snafu’s provoking him, but Eugene has no idea why. Maybe just to be an asshole.

Eugene helps him find a spot in the trunk for the duffle bag, having to shove aside his own giant suitcase. Once they finish, they get settled in the car, Eugene in the driver’s seat and Snafu sitting shotgun. As Eugene buckles in, he realizes Snafu didn’t seem to have a gift with him, unless it was in the duffle bag. Maybe he just got them a gift card. What if Burgie asked for no gifts and Eugene just forgot? The anxiety surrounding gift-giving consumes him for a second, and he even considers asking Snafu about it before reconsidering. He discreetly turns to look at Snafu, who’s staring blankly ahead as he bites his thumbnail. Eugene shakes his head with a sigh, starting the car and the GPS route. Forget that notion he had about Burgie not being friends with any insane weirdos, there’s one in the seat right next to him.

Eugene backs out of the driveway and they begin the long drive to Fort Worth, the car filled with an awkward silence. After Snafu’s behavior at the house, Eugene hadn’t anticipated him keeping his mouth shut like this. The silence is crushing and unbearable and Eugene is almost tempted to start some small talk, but then figures that it might be for the best that they stay quiet. Snafu is off-putting and Eugene can’t read him at all, has no idea how to respond to him. Yeah, silence is best.

Around ten minutes into the drive, Eugene sees Snafu move in his peripheral vision, and the car radio begins playing. Snafu flips through the stations before landing on 90.7 and turning it up. The smooth beats of an RnB song fill the air and Snafu slumps in his seat.

“Hey,” snaps Eugene, glancing repeatedly from the road to Snafu. “I don’t like listening to the radio when I drive. It’s distracting.”

“I’ll turn it down real quiet,” Snafu says, hand already reaching for the dial.

“No, this is my car.” Eugene reaches over and turns the radio off himself, bumping Snafu’s hand out of the way. He can take some rudeness and maintain cordiality, but distracting him while driving is where Eugene draws the line.

“Jesus, then, okay.”

They lapse into silence again, and, if he didn’t know any better, Eugene would say Snafu is pouting. He pulls his legs on the seat with him, hugging them with one arm, the other propping his head up as he stares intently out the window. As Eugene peeks at him, he realizes in horror that Snafu has taken off his shoes, but decides not to say anything. As long as he’s not being distracting, it doesn’t matter. Eugene just needs to get through this drive, then he can come up with some excuse later as to why he can’t drive Snafu back. Maybe he’ll say his mother is seriously ill or something.

“Listen,” Snafu starts, and Eugene almost jumps in his seat. “I can’t handle sittin’ here for eight hours in silence other than that damn GPS, so…”

Eugene groans internally as he realizes Snafu is about to make conversation. Great. “So, what?” he grunts in response.

Snafu snickers, puzzling Eugene. “How d’you know Burgie? Let’s start there.” Eugene doesn’t have to look to know that smirk is back.

Eugene sighs, resigning himself to his fate. There’s no way he can avoid talking now. “Um, we went to college together. What about you?”

“We served together when he was on active duty. Both got stationed in Australia,” Snafu says. Eugene should’ve guessed this. He’s been wondering how Burgie would’ve been such good friends with someone from a different state, especially someone this weird. The Marine Corps makes perfect sense. Burgie had attended Auburn on an ROTC scholarship and paid it back with four years of active duty service, meeting Florence along the way during his time in Australia. And Snafu, apparently.

“Wait, have you met Florence, then?” Eugene asks with genuine curiosity, the dread that had previously been present in his voice gone. “The timing was never right for me. I’ve gone to visit him and vice versa, but I didn’t get to meet her yet.”

“Oh yeah,” says Snafu. “I was there when they met. She’s real sweet, her and Burgie are perfect for each other.”

Eugene glances at him again and sees a soft, pure smile gracing Snafu’s face. The earnestness of it is startling, starkly contrasting with the grouchiness and arrogance of before. He’s beautiful.

Realizing he’s been staring, Eugene clears his throat and looks away. “I’m really glad Burgie met his person. He deserves it.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Snafu says, and Eugene can feel his eyes again, but different this time. No smirk.

Silence returns, this time with a different flavor of awkwardness. Snafu is just staring at him, his body fully turned to face Eugene, and Eugene has no idea what to do. Snafu had been leading the conversation before, perhaps he’s now expecting Eugene to continue it?

Eventually, Eugene can’t take it anymore and caves. “So, um, what do you do?”

“I’m a truck driver,” Snafu answers. “Y’know, I just got home from four days on the road this morning. Y’woke me out of a dead sleep.”

“Oh, uh, sorry,” Eugene mumbles, cringing internally. “You can sleep now if you want…”

“Naw,” says Snafu, leaning closer to Eugene over the center console. “Then I wouldn’t get to find out more ‘bout you, would I? What d’you do?”

Eugene blushes, not sure where this change in attitude is coming from, why Snafu is suddenly so interested. Also, he knows he’s about to sound like a rich kid, which he is, but still. He tries his best to edge away from Snafu without obstructing his driving, saying, “I’m working toward a Ph.D. in botany. I’m going to be a professor.”

“Oh, so you’re smart, okay,” says Snafu.

Eugene clenches his hand on the steering wheel, wanting to change the subject.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Snafu continues. “I could barely finish high school, I hated it so much.”

“Oh, well, I just really love botany,” says Eugene, trying to relax. “Once I started learning more I didn’t wanna stop.”

“So you’re gonna be a doctor, huh? Doctor Eugene?”

“Sledge, Doctor Eugene Sledge.”

Snafu merely hums in response, and Eugene feels strange. He really can’t tell what Snafu’s thinking, his asshole façade is impenetrable. Eugene can sense something underneath, but it’s well hidden. “Snafu.” Not Merriell. What does Snafu mean anyway? Eugene wants to ask where the hell that nickname comes from, but doesn’t want to come off as offensive. Maybe he’ll ask Burgie later.

“Can I smoke in here?” Snafu asks nonchalantly, jolting Eugene from his thoughts.

He glances over, making brief eye contact, and Snafu shakes a pack of cigarettes and a lighter at him. “Um, sure,” Eugene responds without really thinking, taken aback by the sudden question.

Snafu rolls his window down and lights a cigarette, taking a long drag. Eugene has to stop himself from wincing at the smell, instantly regretting his quick decision. He tries his best to ignore it and focus on the road, but it’s ten times more distracting than the radio. At least maybe this will make Snafu like him. Not that he gives a shit. He glances at Snafu only to find the other man staring back, smoke spilling from his nostrils.

“You smoke?” he asks, holding up the cigarette box again.

“No,” says Eugene. There’s a beat of silence before he decides to attempt humor, “I would be a bad almost-doctor if I did.”

Snafu snorts. “That’s bullshit; you’re gonna be a fuckin’ plant doctor.”

“Hey, a doctor’s a doctor,” Eugene says, smiling without even realizing.

“Ain’t smoke like plant food anyway? And ashes fertilizer?”

“Not if your cigarette butt catches plants on fire.”

“Who the fuck’s doing that shit? I never burned no plants down.”

Eugene gives him a look, a grin still on his face, and they both laugh, and Snafu doesn’t seem like such an asshole. It’s like when he was talking about Burgie; his smile lights up the whole car. Eugene has to remind himself to look away, eyes back on the road. The banter feels good.

Silence returns, but this time more comfortable. Well, aside from the suffocating cigarette smell. Snafu continues chainsmoking and Eugene is all but retching. The smell has always been something that easily bothered him, even passing a smoker on the street sometimes makes him nauseous. His temples pulse with a fierce migraine, which worsens with each passing minute, not aided by the fatigue of his early start this morning. When it becomes too much to bear, Eugene suggests pulling off the highway to eat at a rest stop and fill up the tank. Snafu agrees, and they drive another few miles to the next exit.

The rest stop isn’t very big, just a Popeye’s, a McDonald’s, and a local chain gas station Eugene doesn’t recognize.

“Where d’you wanna eat?” Snafu asks as Eugene pulls into a parking space.

“I don’t eat McDonald’s,” says Eugene.

“What d’ya mean you don’t eat McDonald’s?” Snafu sounds almost offended.

Eugene looks over at him in confusion as he shifts the gear to park and turns the car off. “I’ve never eaten there. Ever. I just want to keep my streak.”

“Somethin’ about that jus’ feels classist,” Snafu says. “I don’t know if I can trust someone who thinks they're above McDonald’s.”

Eugene has no idea if he’s being serious. “If you really want to eat there it’s okay, I’ll just get a pretzel from the gas station or something.”

Snafu snickers. “Naw, I’m jus’ playin’. I don’t even want McDonald’s anyway.”

“Then.. What?” Eugene shakes his head in confusion before sighing. Why bother? He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to understand this guy’s sense of humor. “Anyway, so, Popeye’s then?”

“Sure.”

They cross the parking lot and enter the fast food joint. Eugene’s legs feel stiff and weak after all that sitting, and he tries to shake the pins and needles off without making it obvious. He fails, and Snafu stops to ask if he’s alright, causing him to flush in embarrassment. At the counter, they order their food. Eugene glances at Snafu out of the corner of his eye. He really is attractive. With the proximity, he can smell the lingering scent of cigarette smoke, but now, really looking at him, it doesn’t smell so bad. Suddenly, Snafu looks back at him with those startling eyes, and Eugene realizes it’s his turn to order. He sputters for a second, tripping over his words as he tells the employee what he wants.

“Somethin’ on my face?” questions Snafu as they walk to the pickup counter.

“No,” Eugene answers, face beet red. He doesn’t turn to look at Snafu, he doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction. And he knows that smirk is back on Snafu’s face anyway, he could hear it in his voice.

Once their order is ready, they pick up their trays, Eugene letting Snafu lead him to a table. They take the first few bites of their food in silence. Eugene feels strangely shy about sitting face-to-face with Snafu now; they haven’t been properly face-to-face since they spoke at the door, and that seems like ages ago.

Snafu takes a loud slurp of his soda before asking, “So, where are you from? Burgie mentioned you drove out from Alabama.”

Eugene immediately swallows the food in his mouth, despite having not properly chewed it. He narrowly avoids choking, but his voice is still weak when he replies, “Oh, I’m from Mobile. I live in Auburn, though. Drove from there to Mobile yesterday, then down to New Orleans this morning.”

Snafu raises an eyebrow at his strained voice, but nods, continuing to eat.

Realizing it’s once again on him to continue the conversation, Eugene returns the question. “What about you?”

“I’m from New Orleans East. Lived in Baton Rouge for a while, y’know, after the storm, but… That city has a way of calling people back.” There’s something bittersweet and melancholic about the way Snafu speaks about his hometown, captivating Eugene. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt that strongly about Mobile.

“I haven’t spent much time in New Orleans,” says Eugene. “I’ve only been on a few day trips as a kid, to museums and stuff.”

“I love it,” Snafu says without a pause, shrugging. “Shitty place, but… Yeah, I love it.” That glimmer is back on his face, the serene expression reserved for Burgie, banter, and now New Orleans. Eugene wonders how many other things can make him smile like that, and a part of him wants to try to find out.

“You must have missed it when you were in the Marines,” says Eugene.

Snafu laughs, “Let’s not get dramatic now.”

Eugene feels immediately embarrassed for asking, turning to look at the food on his tray and picking at it. He wishes he could throw a chicken tender at Snafu for being so annoying. Or that the booth would swallow him whole. Either one.

“Yeah, I did.”

Eugene looks up. “Huh?”

“I did actually miss New Orleans, though. Me and Burgie used to jus’ sit around on base and talk ‘bout home. Used to go to the grocery store and look for hot pockets, y’know. Somehow, they made us feel less homesick.” Snafu has a far-off look for a moment, then catches Eugene’s eye and they share a laugh.

“Burgie and I used to have similar conversations in college,” Eugene says, smiling again. “Neither of us left the South, and I wasn’t even that far from home, but everything was still unfamiliar. Now I haven’t properly lived in Mobile ever since, and Burgie’s been all over the world...”

“Time flies, huh?” Snafu sighs.

“Yeah,” Eugene says. “Feels like yesterday and forever ago at the same time. And now he’s getting married!”

Snafu hums again, the same hum he gave in the car, and Eugene’s chest feels light for a reason he can’t place. They continue eating in silence. Eugene feels Snafu’s eyes on him repeatedly but decides not to return the eye contact. He wishes Snafu would at least stare less blatantly. He’s been doing it all day, just looking at Eugene. He’s not even trying to hide it; he doesn’t care that Eugene knows, it’s almost like he wants him to. Any normal person just looks away when they’re caught staring, but not him. Snafu’s just odd, and his behavior keeps Eugene on his toes.

Once they’re done eating, Snafu reaches into Eugene's space and transfers the garbage onto his own tray. Eugene is puzzled by the unexpected favor but doesn’t dwell on it. They stop by the trash cans and make their way out to the car. The tank still needs to be filled, so Eugene backs out of the parking space and drives up to the gas station.

Before he steps out of the car, Snafu stops him. “Hey, why don’t I drive the rest of the way? You look like shit, you could use some sleep.”

Eugene’s heart drops. Does he look like shit? Is that why Snafu was staring at him this whole time? Does he have huge, ugly eyebags, is that all it was? He comes back to reality. He can’t let Snafu drive his car. “Uh, no. I’m fine,” he replies.

“C’mon, I don’t mind. Go ahead and sleep,” Snafu insists.

“No, uh, my car can be um. It can just act a bit weird, it’s best if I drive.”

Snafu raises an eyebrow and Eugene can tell his words are less than convincing.

“Do y’think I’m a bad driver or somethin’?”

Okay, maybe Eugene does, but it’s only because of Snafu’s off-putting demeanor. He just seems like the type of person to tailgate someone and flash his high beams at them.

He opens his mouth to reply, but Snafu cuts him off, saying, “I drive for a living. I’m a truck driver, remember?”

Oh, yeah. Eugene had forgotten that detail. He can tell by Snafu’s tone of voice that he’s offended, and Eugene doesn’t blame him. He feels bad for assuming but is still apprehensive. “I don’t like other people driving my car,” he says.

Snafu rolls his eyes obnoxiously. “Whatever, just don’t fall asleep at the wheel or some shit.” He sinks into his seat, pouting again. “You drive like my grandma, by the way.”

Eugene glares at him before finally stepping out of the car to fill the tank. He thought Snafu was going to spare him the grandma quip but he should’ve expected otherwise. As he stands at the meter, his eyes ache with fatigue and he feels a little woozy. The food has done nothing to help his tiredness, and all he wants is to curl up in the passenger seat and wake up in Fort Worth. Snafu’s offer almost seems tempting, but he only met the guy a few hours ago. It’s out of the question to trust him to drive Eugene’s car, even if he’s Burgie’s best friend. He jumps at a noise behind him, realizing he’d been closing his eyes and dozing off at the pump, with the tank already full. Snafu has stepped out of the car and is standing next to him now.

“Oh, alright,” Eugene gives in. “You drive the rest of the way.”

Snafu has an insufferable smug look on his face and immediately sits down in the driver's seat. Eugene returns the nozzle to the pump and makes his way to the passenger’s seat. Once he’s seated, he takes his keys out of his pocket and waves the one to his car at Snafu menacingly.

“If you have even the slightest bit of road rage, I’m taking over,” he says, making direct eye contact.

Snafu snatches the keys from Eugene’s hand and rolls his eyes again. “Oh, please,” he grumbles under his breath. “I’m gonna get us there a lot faster than you would.”

To Snafu’s credit, he actually is a good driver. He’s completely focused on the road, finally using those big eyes of his for a good cause instead of just harassing Eugene. Snafu clicks on the radio again, still playing 90.7. The voice of a female soul vocalist floats through the car and Eugene’s eyelids grow heavy. He doesn’t want to leave Snafu’s driving unsupervised, so he attempts to fight sleep by repeatedly blinking, but it’s useless, he’s too tired. He’s had a long past two days. Weirdly, he feels more comfortable falling asleep in a car being driven by a stranger than in his childhood bedroom. Through heavy-lidded eyes, he gazes at Snafu, all jaw and tan skin. From this angle, Eugene can see the firm muscles of his arm as it rests on the steering wheel, his other lying on his thigh. He could feel Snafu’s eyes earlier; can Snafu feel his now? Does Snafu know that he looks back? His thoughts become foggy and he’s sleeping soundly within minutes.

He wakes around five hours later, 5 PM, with a severely dry mouth. He licks and smacks his lips as his eyes begin to focus. He tries sitting up and groans at his stiff neck, turning to the backseat to reach for a water bottle.

“Hey, sleepin’ beauty,” Snafu laughs, turning and grinning at him. “We’re in Texas now. Gettin’ real close to the finish line. Only ‘bout an hour left.”

Eugene ignores him in favor of chugging the water, pausing every few seconds to swish it around and wet his lips with it. His mouth tastes terrible and he hopes his breath doesn’t stink.

“Y’know, I was thinkin’ while you were asleep,” Snafu prattles on. “Why d’ya have a gas car? Ain’t you all obsessed with nature? Shouldn’t you have an electric car or some shit? Lovin’ the Earth an’ stuff?”

Eugene scoffs internally but keeps ignoring him, choking as he downs the rest of his water. He hacks out a cough as his throat burns. Snafu keeps talking, not even taking notice. Tears fill Eugene’s eyes as he attempts to breathe normally. He clears his throat loudly in a final attempt to get his lungs working again.

“Are you okay?” Snafu finally stops ranting.

“Oh, I’m just great,” Eugene says shakily, rubbing at his watering eyes.

“I got super fuckin’ bored while you were asleep,” Snafu says. “Once we got to Texas I turned off the radio ‘cause none of the stations were playin’ soul no more.” He turns to Eugene and fully looks at him for the first time since he woke up. “You got a red mark on ya face from the seatbelt.”

Eugene is too groggy to be embarrassed and feels around his face for the indent, massaging it when he finds it. “You crash into anything while I was asleep?”

“No,” Snafu deadpans, not taking the bait. Clearly, he doesn’t like this line of humor.

“Shocking,” Eugene returns in the same flat tone. “Do you want some water?”

“Sure,” Snafu says.

Eugene tries to hand him a bottle, but he waves it away with his free hand.

“Open it for me.” Snafu’s not asking, it’s a command.

Eugene looks from the water bottle to Snafu a few times before complying. He tries to hand it to Snafu again, but instead of grabbing it he puts his free hand on the steering wheel and opens his mouth.

“No,” Eugene says with a sigh, not even bothering to be shocked at this point.

“Was worth a try.” Snafu turns to him with a smirk, reaching for the water bottle. Their fingers graze as Eugene hands it to him and Eugene is forced to consider if he’s doing this on purpose. Is all this weird behavior Snafu’s way of flirting? The staring, the smirking, the teasing? Snafu takes a long gulp of the water and Eugene watches as a droplet rolls down his chin and onto his throat. It wouldn’t be so bad if that was the case.

The remainder of the drive to Fort Worth is uneventful, just some casual banter here and there as Snafu follows the directions of the GPS. As they close in on their destination, Eugene realizes that he has no idea where Snafu is staying.

“Wait, the GPS is set to my hotel,” Eugene says.

“Okay,” Snafu replies blankly.

Eugene rolls his eyes. “Well, where are you staying?”

“With Burgie.”

“Let me change the destination, then.” Eugene hopes with every fiber of his being that they don’t have to backtrack too much. He doesn’t know how much more of this he can take. Yeah, Snafu’s hot, and he… doesn’t mind him, but being trapped in a tin box with anyone for this long would drive him insane. He needs to be alone. Luckily, the change of course only adds about twenty minutes to their ETA, and Eugene pats himself on the back for having the foresight to book a hotel close to Burgie’s apartment. He shoots Burgie a text to let him know they’ll be arriving soon.

As they approach Burgie’s apartment, Eugene wonders about Snafu. He must be closer to Burgie than Eugene himself. He’s staying with him, it seems like he didn’t get a wedding gift, and Burgie went to all this trouble to ensure Snafu was able to come. Some part of Eugene is sure that Burgie might have driven out to New Orleans East himself to pick up Snafu if Eugene wasn’t able to. It’s not jealousy, but there’s a hollow feeling in his chest. He’s disappointed, filled with the dismay that comes with realizing the person you feel closest to feels closer to someone else. It’s silly, the kind of thing a kid gets upset about, but he can’t help it.

When they arrive, Eugene quickly exits the car and walks to the driver’s side, ready to switch places with Snafu.

Snafu’s laughing as he opens the door. “You look like some kinda butler tryna help me out of a carriage standin’ there like that.”

Eugene snorts, then feels awkward as they now stand face to face. He’s not sure what to say or if they should shake hands. “Uh, see you for dinner later, then,” he ends up saying.

Snafu grins a real smile, the one reserved for Burgie, banter, New Orleans, and now, Eugene. “‘Course,” he beams and gives Eugene a pat on the shoulder before walking away.

Eugene stands, frozen, and watches him be buzzed into the apartment building. If he feels Eugene’s eyes, he doesn’t react. Once the door closes, Eugene snaps out of it and sits down in front of the wheel. He plugs his hotel into the GPS and hazily drives his way there. Once he’s safely inside his room, he smacks himself down on the bed and lets out a sigh. It feels good to properly lay down after all that sitting. Alone and staring up at the ceiling, he still can only think of Snafu. If he was flirting, was Eugene doing it back without realizing it? I mean, he was immediately attracted to him, so maybe subconsciously… He wonders if it’s wise to entertain this flirtation. It might be a good distraction from all the pressure of his dissertation. It’s just flirting, it’s noncommittal. He wonders if he made the whole thing up in his head. He tries to clear his thoughts but instead starts imagining his mother meeting Snafu. He snickers at the thought. They would hate each other.

He feels himself getting drowsy again and bolts upright. He’s supposed to meet Burgie at the restaurant in only about an hour, he can’t let himself drift off. He checks his breath and his suspicions from earlier are confirmed. He definitely needs to brush his teeth before he leaves. He hopes Snafu didn’t notice. He checks himself in the mirror to make sure his clothes don’t look too wrinkled. He decides to change from a t-shirt into a button-down to look a little more proper before freshening up in the bathroom. He’s ready a little too early, so he kills the rest of his time by rummaging through his suitcase and reorganizing it.

He confirms the address of the restaurant with Burgie, picking out a route on the GPS, and stands, ready to leave. Of course, as soon as opens the door, Eugene’s anxiety decides that he must pee before getting in the car. Luckily, he decided to leave early, so it doesn’t make much of a difference. He’s on his way in a minute or two, stepping out of the hotel into the humid, late spring air. The sun isn’t setting yet, but it’s circling its way around the horizon, getting ready to descend.

The restaurant is only thirteen minutes from the Comfort Inn Eugene is staying in, and he arrives 10 minutes before the agreed time. He looks around the parking lot, searching for Burgie’s car, but he can’t remember what it looks like for the life of him. Does Burgie have a truck? That would seem in character. But maybe it was a hatchback? Or a sedan? Maybe he should go inside and say Burgie’s name as the reservation. But he can’t get there first and be alone at the table, that’s weird. Two figures crossing the threshold interrupt his thoughts: a sturdy frame he immediately recognizes as Burgie and a curly head that can only be Snafu. They seem to be laughing about something, and Eugene’s chest feels light. He’s so happy to see Burgie after so long, he’d missed him so much. And Snafu’s face… If he’d smiled when talking about Burgie, he was beaming now. The look on his face is infectious, and Eugene finds himself smiling despite being alone in his car.

Eugene waits a few minutes for the pair to get settled inside before getting out of his car and following behind. The restaurant is a typical steakhouse with a bar and TVs playing various sports on every wall. He searches the tables until he finds Burgie, who makes eye contact and starts waving. He tells the hostess that his friends are waiting before walking toward them, trying to maintain a normal pace despite his excitement. Burgie stands, grinning, and gives him a warm hug, patting Eugene’s back firmly a few times.

“I missed you!” Burgie coos into his ear.

“I missed you too,” Eugene says as they part, face glowing.

Burgie turns and holds out an arm toward the booth. “You’ve already met Snafu.”

Snafu gives a mocking wave and smirks. “Oh, yeah. We know each other very well now.”

Eugene blushes. What’s with this guy? Why’s he making it sound weird? All they did was talk! Burgie gives Eugene a look as they sit down and he has to stop himself from explaining that nothing happened, it wasn’t like that.

“So, uh, who else is coming?” he says instead, clearing his throat.

“Just a few more guys, friends of mine from work,” Burgie replies. “They should be here soon. Anyway, I didn’t get to properly talk to you on the phone last week, how have you been?”

“Well, nothing much. Just my dissertation,” he shrugs. It seems evasive, but it’s the truth. Eugene’s life is boring, all he does is research these days.

“Nothing new?”

“Honestly, no.” He gives an empty chuckle before continuing, “It’s exhausting. It’s like I’m working on something impossible to finish. I’ve been really burnt out lately…”

Burgie reaches across the table and gives his arm a quick pat. “I know you’ll succeed,” he says. “Just remember that you love botany. Return to that passion, the reason you wanted to do this in the first place, then you’ll have the strength to persevere.”

Eugene smiles. “You sound just like my dad, he said something similar.”

“Well, he’s a doctor, he must be right,” says Burgie with a laugh.

There’s a lull in the conversation and Eugene becomes aware of those eyes boring into him yet again. He’d almost forgotten Snafu was there, which is odd. In Eugene’s experience, he’s not usually such a silent person. Eugene glances at him. He’s just sitting there, curled up in his corner of the booth, observing with those wide, blue eyes. His expression is blank, but he slowly grins as they make eye contact. Eugene looks away, back down at the table, but he knows Snafu hasn’t and is continuing to stare.

Burgie’s friends arrive within the next fifteen minutes, and they have to get a waiter to push another table up to the booth. There are three of them, all working at the same contracting company as Burgie. They’re loud and rowdy, watching and reacting to the sports on the TVs. Eugene only meets each of them briefly to shake hands, but he can immediately tell that his nature doesn’t mesh well with theirs. The three steal away Burgie’s attention throughout their meal, leaving Snafu and Eugene alone together on their end of the booth.

“You don’t like them,” Snafu states as he eats his steak.

“It’s not really that I just… I don’t know how to talk to them,” Eugene says between bites. “They’re not my type of people.”

“D’you know how to talk to me?” Snafu says, not looking at Eugene but instead focusing on his steak. He’s attempting to hold the entire thing up with his fork and rip the meat off with his teeth instead of cutting it.

Eugene watches him play with his food with slight disgust but ignores it. “No, I don’t. You’re weird.”

Snafu snorts at this. “Am I not your ‘type of people’ then?”

Eugene’s face splits into a playful grin. “Hm, I don’t know. Maybe if you stopped playing music in the car.”

They both laugh but are interrupted by louder laughter next to them. Burgie and his work friends have all ordered shots. They offer some to Eugene and Snafu, but both decline.

“Designated driver?” Eugene asks.

“Somethin’ like that,” Snafu replies vaguely, avoiding eye contact. He’s abandoned his plate by now and is leaning over the table with his chin in his palm.

Eugene can tell that he’s approaching a sore spot, so he changes the subject. “So,” he starts. “Did you get all settled at Burgie’s apartment?”

“Yeah, it’s like my home away from home or whatever.”

Eugene nods, unsure of what to say next. He doesn’t know why Snafu does this, letting the conversation die. It’s like he wants to put Eugene on the spot.

“I’m goin’ out for a smoke,” Snafu says, interrupting Eugene’s thoughts. He stands slowly, then asks, “Wanna come?”

“Sure,” Eugene says, looking up at him. In the dim light of the restaurant, his features are even more harsh and pronounced.

They maneuver their way out of the booth, trying not to bump into Burgie and his friends at the adjoined table. The others don’t even notice they’re leaving, too invested in a drinking game. Outside, the sun has fully set. None of the stars are visible in the sky, and there’s no grass for fireflies to blink in. Eugene doesn’t like heavily urbanized areas like this, where nothing lives but people. He needs the plants and the birds and the stars to be happy.

Snafu reaches into his pocket, retrieving a box of cigarettes and a lighter. He offers them to Eugene, who again refuses, before lighting one up and taking a long drag. His eyes close for a moment, seemingly in some sort of bliss, as he holds in the smoke, before exhaling away from Eugene. The odor hits Eugene’s nostrils and he has to keep himself from making a face. He distracts himself by watching Snafu take another drag, sucking on the cigarette, cheeks hallowing slightly. At least he looks pretty, even if it smells.

At this moment, Eugene feels oddly close and familiar with Snafu. Maybe it’s their proximity throughout the day, or how attractive Snafu is, or the smoke messing with Eugene’s thoughts, or maybe just the moonlight. He thinks about his antics in the car and how they seem almost charming in retrospect, despite being annoying at the time. Maybe they were charming then too, but Eugene was too obsessed with feeling awkward to realize.

“I have a heart condition,” Eugene says out of the blue.

“Huh?” Snafu says, eyebrows raised. In a few seconds, a look of understanding washes over him, and he drops his cigarette, stomping it out. “Why didn’t you tell me before? I don’t wanna kill you or somethin’.”

“No, no!” Eugene’s cheeks are flushed red in embarrassment. What is he doing? “I meant, that’s why I’m not drinking. Not just because I have to drive. I don’t drink. Sorry, I don’t really know why I’m telling you this.”

Snafu laughs again with that earnest smile, and Eugene almost doesn’t mind embarrassing himself if he gets to see that face. “What the hell are you talkin’ about, boo?”

Eugene’s chest warms at the pet name. He normally hates when people call him things like that, but somehow Snafu is an exception. “Sorry, I guess I was just thinking about it because of earlier.”

“You’re funny, Eugene,” Snafu says, looking serene in the moonlight.

They’ve inched closer toward each other throughout their conversation, shoulders almost touching as they stand side by side. Eugene, slightly taller than him, can look down at his face from this angle, and he looks perfect. Suddenly, Eugene knows that if he doesn’t reach out to Snafu now, he’ll regret it later. He can’t let his anxiety or apprehension get in the way of his own happiness. He bumps his hand against Snafu, knuckles grazing, who turns to look at him. Their faces are only two shoulder widths apart, and Eugene can see every eyelash, every freckle on his face. He takes Snafu’s hand fully, entwining their fingers.

Snafu smirks and turns so they face each other.

“Why do you keep smirking at me?” Eugene whispers. “All day, that smirk.”

“For an almost doctor, you’re so stupid,” Snafu says with a roll of his eyes.

Eugene is about to respond but is interrupted by Snafu cupping his neck with his free hand and kissing him. His eyes flutter shut, hand drifting to Snafu’s jaw. The kiss is sweet and warm, and when they part they leave their faces close for a second, just breathing in each other’s air, before returning to their shoulder-to-shoulder position.

“I’ve been flirtin’ with you all day,” Snafu says, and now the smirk in his voice doesn’t seem so evil.

“I wasn’t sure. I thought maybe you were just being an asshole.”

“To me, that’s flirtin’.”

Eugene snorts.

They stay out there for a few more minutes, just chatting and basking in the moonlight and each other’s presence. The barrier Eugene had set up, that fear of awkwardness, had melted away. He’s not sure where this thing with Snafu is going, or if it will go anywhere, he just knows that right now, it feels good, and that’s what matters. He spends too much time worrying about his past with his parents and his future with his dissertation; the two press against each other until the present is all but gone, a sliver of its former self. It’s time to finally live. They kiss again before reentering the restaurant, this time more lingering, parting with a smile. When they sit down again it’s like they share a secret, something only for them to know, and they can’t help but knowingly grin at each other from across the table.

By 10:30, Burgie and his work friends are all at varying levels of intoxication. Burgie is the least drunk, mostly just buzzed, to avoid a hangover on his wedding day. The three others are properly drunk and talking about continuing at a bar down the road. Eugene frowns at them, finding it difficult to hide his disdain. Aren’t they going to the wedding tomorrow? He makes eye contact with Snafu who looks as disgusted as he is.

They say their goodbyes to the three, which for Eugene is just a curt nod of the head. Burgie pays the bill, which Eugene protests but Burgie insists the host should pay. Snafu keeps entirely out of the conversation, but looks off to the side guiltily when Eugene glances at him. He’s able to convince Burgie to let him leave the tip, placing a fifty-dollar bill down on the table. The poor waitress had a lot to deal with, a huge order and three annoying, rowdy drunks. They make their way out to the parking lot, Snafu now walking with Burgie, and Eugene trailing behind.

“It was so good just to hang out,” Burgie says to him, pulling him into another hug. “Sorry I wasn’t able to talk much, those three can be overwhelming.”

“It’s okay, we’ll talk tomorrow.” Eugene gives him a tight squeeze before letting go. “I can’t wait to meet Florence.”

“Speaking of which, I should go call her and warn her I’m coming home,” says Burgie, smiling softly. “I’m sleeping in the living room with Snafu tonight. Don’t want any bad luck.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” Eugene pats Burgie’s arm, nodding him off. “Don’t keep Florence waiting.”

Burgie walks off, phone in hand, leaving Snafu and Eugene alone again. Their previous goodbye had been uncomfortable at best, but all of that was gone now.

“Guess you’ll see me tomorrow too, huh?” Snafu drawls, each word glazing over Eugene like honey, hand reaching out to palm Eugene’s shoulder.

“Guess so,” he replies, mirroring Snafu’s movement before pulling him into a hug. “I’m glad I decided to pick you up today. Even if you were a little insane at first.” He brings a hand up to Snafu's hair, petting it softly and running his fingers through the curls.

“Sorry about that,” Snafu chuckles, leaning into the touch slightly.

They part and say their goodbyes, Eugene turning and walking toward his car, this time Snafu watching his back disappear. Once alone in his hotel room, Eugene can hardly believe himself. He doesn’t regret anything, but normally in social situations, he feels overwhelmed, especially by people like Snafu who are hard to read. He finds it difficult to act in such situations, to do anything. Today he acted, and he was happy with the result. He goes to sleep thinking of Snafu and what the next day may bring. He won’t need to lie about his mother suddenly becoming ill now; he’ll gladly drive another eight hours with Snafu being annoying in the passenger seat as long as it means they get to kiss again.

When the morning comes, Eugene is buzzing with excitement. He feels slightly ashamed that this is mostly because of Snafu and not his friend’s wedding, but he can’t help it. He arrives early, sitting alone in one of the church pews behind those reserved for family and the procession. Only a few others are here so early, and he sits in contemplation, the excitement from earlier suddenly washed away. Churches will always remind him of his mother. Maybe he should feel bad for his outbursts two days before, but he can’t force himself to. She chooses to never understand. She wants him on that altar with a woman one day, saying his own vows. She’ll never get that. He’s filled with a melancholic feeling as he stares at the cross.

He sits there, unaware, for an hour as the church fills around him. His wallowing is interrupted by the sound of the pianist playing a precursory song. Within a few minutes, the procession starts. First Florence’s mother, then Burgie, who looks nervous. He takes his place at the altar, and Eugene tries to find his eyes, to give him a consolidating look, but Burgie’s gaze is fixed on the aisle. Next, the bridesmaids and groomsmen, Burgie’s three brothers, walking arm in arm, with the maid of honor and… Snafu at the end. For some reason, Eugene didn’t expect him to be the best man and almost feels offended that he wasn’t offered a spot as at least a groomsman. This is all quickly forgotten when he gets a proper look at Snafu in a suit. His hair is neat and gelled back, a grin on his face. He meets Eugene’s eyes with a smirk as he walks by. Florence is next in the procession, and she looks beautiful. Eugene has seen pictures of her before, but they couldn’t do her justice. She is radiant in her gown, and he sees Burgie’s face light up as soon as she begins her walk down the aisle.

The ceremony proceeds without a hitch, Burgie picking up Florence and spinning her around once the pastor tells him to kiss the bride. Everyone makes their way to the reception hall, with what would normally be a ten-minute drive turning into a twenty-five-minute drive with all the traffic. Eugene puts his anxiety-inducing gift down on the table designated for presents then finds himself a table in the corner, waiting for the wedding procession to be introduced and the party to start.

When they arrive, the dancing begins, and the food is set out. Eugene grabs himself a plate and is moving down the buffet when someone touches his shoulder, He nearly jumps, but turns and sees Burgie, giving him a half-hug with his free hand.

“Congratulations, Burgie,” he says. “I wish you all the happiness in the world.”

Burgie beams at him, then steps to the side, revealing Florence, who leans in to give Eugene a half-hug as well.

“It’s so good to finally meet you!” she squeals. “Burgie just loves you! Thank you so much for coming!”

“Nice to meet you, too!” Eugene says. “Congratulations, Florence!”

“I have to go greet the others, but I’ll talk to you later, Eugene. Bye!” She turns and walks off, a bounce in her step.

“She's lovely. I’m so happy for you, Burgie.” Eugene actually feels like he might cry. In a strange way, he feels like he’s saying goodbye to Burgie today. With him married and Eugene getting his Ph.D., they’ll have even less time to see each other. But Burgie means the world to him, and he’ll do whatever it takes to keep their bond from fading.

“So, how did you feel about Snafu?”

“Huh?” If there was anything Eugene was expecting Burgie to say, it wasn’t that.

Burgie looks at him knowingly. “I just thought you might like to know that he’s playing for your team, that’s all.”

Eugene sputters, “Did you plan this? Is that why you called me in particular?”

“I just thought you two might click,” laughs Burgie. “And by your reaction, I’m guessing you did?”

“Well… maybe a little,” says Eugene, unable to stop his cheeks from dusting themselves pink.

“He’s right over there watching us, by the way. I think he’s waiting for you,” Burgie says, motioning his head behind him to where Snafu is standing in a corner. “I won’t hold you up.” He begins walking away but then turns back. “Oh yeah, don’t worry, I sneaked a look at your gift and I love it. I know you’ve probably been letting that torture you the whole time.”

Eugene snorts and Burgie gives him a clap on the back before going to join his wife. With him gone, Eugene can clearly see Snafu across the room. He shakes his head, smiling as walks over.

Snafu – no, Merriell greets him with the usual grin. “Wanna dance?”

fin.

p.s. i also made this playlist of songs i think snafu would listen to in the car :)

#girl omfg i hope u like it cuz my heart is racing rn #did not end up changing it to take place during christmas my bad!#winter weddings just aren't common so that why it takes place in may #hbowarsanta23 #hbo war #sledgefu #the pacific #eugene sledge #merriell shelton #snafu shelton #mutuals #hbowardaily #Spotify #my fic

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beesmygod · 5 months

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Serious question: what benefits does hiveworks provide that you don't get with another editorial house? Every comic artist I follow seems to go into panic crunch and then burnout mode every time there is a kickstarter for their book, lasting for months and months. Is it the ads network? Do they provide business and legal knowledge? Is it the site hosting? They don't seem to spare anyone stress and it doesn't sound like they provide enough money to make it worth it, or else people wouldn't need patreons.

it offered me 100 dollars a month in exchange for doing nothing but letting them run ads on my site. they also hosted it, but that's cheap to do.

ostensibly, they were supposed to help you run kickstarters but covid fucked things up and priority was made for those who would make the best public impression for hiveworks, the company.

they have a lawyer but its homestucks old lawyer who i did not have a high opinion of lol. he also might have left halfway through or just stopped being online or something. didnt see him for a grip after his intro.

they have people who work on hosting your site but i was not impressed by their inability or refusal to do simple tasks to improve the audience experience, like embedding a video into a page instead of forcing me to link it.

they mostly yelled at me for being too loud on twitter and used me as their personal diary. idk what the fuck everyone else gets out of it

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starmybrainrot · 1 year

Note

Hi!

May I request how bts members first met their partner?

Thank you 😊

np bb <3 sorry i was so late to answer- i had to make sure they made sense.

ALSO- Lmk if you’d like to see any of these adapted into full-length fics

___________________________________________

How BTS Members Got With Their Partner

Jin

A mutual friend. During college, the stress of studying had put too much pressure on your relationship. Your boyfriend left you for another girl in your class, and it hit you pretty hard. To get you out of the rut, your friend decided to set you up on a blind date. “Trust me!” She’d said. “He’s totally your type.” You didn’t trust her at all, but you still went out. Might as well. You went to a barbecue place and about ten minutes later, a tall,very handsome guy appeared. Immediately, you were a bit more nervous. You still didn’t think he’d be your type, but my lord was he pretty. It was a sweet date. Lots of laughing, a tiny bit of wholesome flirting. He paid in return for showing up late. You’d agreed to go on another date with him. You still weren’t head-over-heels, but he was nice. And so started a courtship. Every two weeks or so, he’d find a way to take you on a date. Dinner, an arcade, the aquarium, a cafe. Picture-perfect, but a very human energy. He wasn’t a boy from a drama, he was just a sweet person who wanted you to be happy. After a couple months of this, he officially asked you to be his partner. “I know we’ve been dating for a bit, but I wanted to know if you’d like to be official. I like you a lot, Y/N. Could I be your boyfriend?” Of course, you said yes.

Yoongi

The need for sleep. When Yoongi moved to Seoul and started all his jobs, he gradually stopped making new friends. There just wasn’t enough time for it. You yourself were powering through a couple jobs to pay for college and rent. At one of these jobs, you two often had the same shift. You weren’t super close, but he’d been kind enough before the burnout set in. You still said hi and talked somewhat, but it was professional. However, when he started slowing down, you started getting worried for him. Something was up with his shoulder or something. One day, you offered a spare key to your apartment. “You seem exhausted all the time. I’m kind of scared you’ll fall on your walk home or something. I live right up the block and it’s really quiet. If you ever wanted to crash there, you could.” Shockingly, he accepted the offer. He started crashing once every couple weeks or so. Most of the time he’d just sleep in the couch and leave before you woke up. But sometimes, you two would talk. You got to know how talented he was, that he’s going to be a musician. Over time, you fell for him. And he started falling for you. You’d stuck with him through all of the physical and mental struggles of his training and debut. You were the person he was most comfortable with, no doubt about it. And one day, on one of your typical crash-days, he asked you out by mistake. He hadn’t meant to, but it ended up working out for the two of you.

Hobi

A dance competition. During his pre-debut days, Hobi was already a well-known dancer. One of the things he would do was go to showcases and competitions. Even if it was something he’d already applied to or won, you can always learn from new dancers. One of these competitions was a co-ed competition. Groups of mainly guys, groups of mainly girls, mixed groups. All of them competed against each other. It wasn’t super serious- you only won about ₩1500 and you got to say you won it. Still, it was a fun semi-annual competition. During the second 2012 competition, he was doing it for the last time. He was more determined to win that usual. Given that he was about to debut in a group, he didn’t know if he’d ever have time to compete again. It was your second time competing- last time you’d almost won. Got to the quarter-finals of the tournament, but not last that. You didn’t win this time, but you got to the finals. It was your group and Hobi’s group vying for the win. It was close, but you’d ended up losing. You weren’t as beat-down as you thought you would’ve been- it more cemented your need to come back again. Victory was so close. One more time and you could get it. On your way out of the studio, Hobi had run up on you. He was out of breath and grinning. He explained that he was so scared he was going to lose, and right when you were about to yell at him for gloating, he asked for help. “I want to know how you fall down so smoothly. That handless cartwheel into a split? I can do that, but I don’t know how to transition. It was like you melted into the ground.” He asked for your number, because if you ever had a free day he’d want to practice with you. You guys became dance buddies, and even after his debut you’d still practice sometimes. He broke BigHit’s “no dating” rule after a couple months and asked you put.

Namjoon

The gym. Even though he enjoys working out alone, it’s not terrible to have a gym buddy. One day, while you two were doing cardio at the same time. You’d kind of forgotten you were there alone, so you were just talking to your friend. He didn’t mean to, but he started eavesdropping. You made a joke to your friend- something about a human hamster wheel not being practical. “Imagine it unhooks and I just go flying down the street. Explain that to an ER nurse.” Despite it not being particularly funny, he laughed at it. While he was having a water break, you walked past him to leave. He told you that he liked your joke about the hamster wheel, and you two just had a superficial conversation about your favorite exercises. After going at the same time a few times by accident, he asked for your number and you started going together on purpose. Your relationship grew from there.

Jimin

Out clubbing. In an effort to avoid the pressure of celebrity life, Jimin started frequenting more clubs- ones that people didn’t go to, ones that tons of people went to. The goal was just to have fun and forget about fame. You started frequenting clubs because of music and liquor. Pretty good combination. You’d gone to the bar to get a whiskey sour, but your friend had your wallet and you didn’t know where they were. Out of muscle memory of kindness or pure impulse, paid for you. He had no clue why, and neither did you. But it was a good decision. You started up a conversation with him as you drank. Obviously, you knew who he was. But you didn’t make a big deal out of it- there was no way he came here for the paparazzi. It wasn’t a deep conversation, just jokes about the people in there. He was great to talk to, and even in the dark purple light, he glowed. You asked for his number when he was about to go, but he said no. He said he didn’t really like to give it out. “But if we ever run into each other again, I might.” You agreed. He went back to that club a few nights that week to make sure you weren’t a stalker. You actually ended up running into him at a different club. He was the one who came up to you. True to his word, he gave you his number. You two decided to talk and dance with each other all night. The next morning, while battling a hangover, you got a message from Jimin. “Hey, Y/N. Hope your head doesn’t hurt too bad. Lmk if you’d ever want to go out sometime. I’d love to talk without yelling over ppl.”

Tae

A café. Cafés are quiet and pretty. Much like the boy who started coming to your favorite one. It was a study spot for you- good food, good music, good atmosphere. Good, good, good. You’d sit in the back, alone at this round table. He’d sit at a little table a few paces away. One day, the café was busier than normal. His table was filled up, so he asked if he could sit at the other end of yours. You said yes, it’s just a table. He wasn’t very talkative, but he smiled a lot. Between bites of food or spurts of typing, he would check his messages and clearly try to hold in a laugh. He had a very stern, cold face, but it was obvious that he was a funnier and happier person than it seemed. He’d sit at the end of your table when it was busy, and because of that, you started to develop a bit of a crush on him. You didn’t realize the crush he had on you. He loved the way your nose crunched when you focus, the way your eyes lit up when your coffee came over, how concentrated you’d get on your work. Your existence was pretty to him. You ended up asking each other out at the same time. Both of you had reached your breaking point and just blurted it out. The coincidence made you laugh to hard you almost got kicked out.

Jungkook

An art class. When he started learning to draw and paint more, he decided to take a couple classes. It was fun, the class- very calm with very talented students and teachers. Something this teacher prioritized was teamwork. Art is personal, yes. But if you ever make it your job, you may need to work with others. So she put everyone in groups. You had to use all the techniques you’d learned to depict what you would define “beauty” as. You, Jungkook, and a third person we’re paired together. This third person bailed, and while you worked on your painting, you bonded over a mutual annoyance for this guy. It wasn’t mean, more of a running joke between new friends. About a month and a half later, when the project was done, Jungkook asked if you wanted to keep hanging out. “Like go get a coffee or see a movie or something.” He was sort of nervous and it was cute, so you agreed. How could you not?

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lirarere · 13 days

Text

Maybe, it's just me

Peter Maximoff\Quicksilver (X-Men) x reader

notes: well... I disappeared for a while due to burnout, please excuse me 😭 and yes, I know I've never said that I write for Marvel\X-Men, but I adore Peter, so enjoy?

warning: bad english, angst, frivolous attitude on Peter's part, reader doesn't know what to do, sadness, reader blames himself a little (a lot), Peter is in a panic and doesn't know what to do

words: 383

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

when you first met Peter, you were both teenagers, unencumbered, just enjoying your friendship and then typical teenage love.

but you grew up, but Peter didn’t, he was still an adult child, and you would tolerate it, but sometimes your quarrels were so stupid that it was funny. You began to be annoyed by his behavior; he constantly sulked like a child at every remark or advice.

you unconsciously began to move away from him to think more in silence, and he didn’t even notice, for a while at least.

you thought for a long time whether your thoughts were generally right or not, you didn’t want to change Peter, you didn’t want to force him to change for you, maybe we just outgrew love, or you became too serious, maybe Peter will find that person who will love him the way he is he is. all these thoughts were spinning in your head for a very long time, you didn’t know whether the problem was with him, or with you, or no one is to blame and it’s just fate.

In any case, Peter noticed your hesitation and the fact that you began to move away from him, a panic began in his head, which increased each time. you were too immersed in thinking about the essence of the problem, and he simply did not know how to approach you and talk to you.

Peter constantly put himself in danger, which made you very worried and angry at the same time, sometimes Peter didn’t take what you said seriously and laughed at your desire to start a family with him, it wasn’t out of malice and you knew it, but... it really upset you , you loved him and knew that he lovedyou, but your love seems to be too different and you have different priorities.

You decided to take a break from your relationship, you and Peter had a lot of things to think about, perhaps with the time you spend apart, you will understand what you need and what your priorities are, you told Peter this, directly.

you still didn’t know whether he understood or not, but he held on so as not to cry, he understood that the reason was in him, even if you told him the opposite.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

I KNOW THIS IS AN UNEXPECTED END!

two options, either there will be a second part, or I’ll leave it as an open ending, I just wanted a little angst with Peter.

sorry if this is very badly written, I will improve in the future!!

♡rere

#x men #marvel #peter maximoff #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff x you #quicksilver #quicksilver x reader #evan peters #angst #marvel mcu #mcu #x reader #pietro maximoff #x men movies

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dkniade · 9 months

Note

what are your thoughts on fontaine so far?

Oh hello! As someone who’s been gathering information from fan posts only and not the actual game (I think if I do play I’ll just play GI for the scenery and not the quests since it feels better than way. Something about burnout and wondering what kind of game actually intrigues me. Anyway)—

(Slight 4.0 spoilers…??? Mostly rambling about character design)

Fontaine sounds interesting. Well, I find it easier to let trailers/characters/quests sit for at least some time when it comes to new region and cast releases. Trying to see what makes me happy instead of just following the hype.

I feel kinda like a bard getting stories from other travelers, haha..

Seems Tartaglia got into another order-loving region’s trouble. I saw the cutscene where he starts to transform but Neuvillette interrupts him and he just kinda lies on the floor when the dust clears. Amazing

I wanna see Neuvillette cry even more. I wanna see him break down or something. It’s always fun to see a usually serious/stoic (?) character be vulnerable. Also Furina and Neuvillette’s dynamic seem interesting… It’s been compared to Hu Tao and Zhongli it seems? Blue/white vs red/black parallels…

Furina looks cute! I like the layers and shades of blue! Feel like she could use some longer pants. She’s got the💧 droplet shape all over her outfit and even in her eyes. Very nice motif. I love symbolic designs… Also I love how her eyelashes are stylized.

I’ve read that Focalors’ name in the English dub is pronounced closer to the French way of Foçalors (FOH-sa-lor) despite not having the “ç” (c cédille, or so a search tells me) in the official spelling. That’s like seeing “Français” be written as “Francais” (“Fran-KEH”) but still pronounced “Fran-SEH”, haha

Edit: Focalors’ name is from the Latin name Focalor from the Ars Goetia, so it would be pronounced with a /k/ in English after all. Though in the French version of the game it’s written as Foçalors which would make it with a /s/ in French.

Neuvillette seems to have a slight ⚖️ scale motif mixed with the French fleur-de-lis ⚜️ upside down… (Not visible in this visual but it’s the ends of his blue lapels.) Very cool detail for the Chief Justice of Fontaine. Probably had the same tailor as Dainsleif. Also I thought that he’s got similar motifs to Song of Broken Pines lmao. I like the feather in his hair.

Come to think of it before 4.0 I’ve always imagined Focalors to be a mature woman (Hydro Ningguang or something) and didn’t expect Furina and Neuvillette at all… No, actually, when his visual released, I thought it’d be really cool if Neuvillette was a woman (while having the exact same design as canon) who’s actually Focalors, haha. Handsome long-haired women in suits and fancy layers… hehe.

Since Neuvillette’s character intro card lists “??? - Hydro” initially I thought he was the actual archon working behind the scenes and Furina was like, a decoy archon at the front. From the 3.8 event I had the impression that optical illusion is a motif for Fontaine, haha. It would’ve been interesting if the God of Justice is using a decoy to deceive people, I felt. Something like an AU where Chief Justice Neuvillette is all about justice and law but has a soft spot for and tolerates Furina. And everyone thinks Furina is the Hydro Archon but actually she’s just an assistant (? Right hand woman?) and Neuvilette is the actual Hydro Archon— wait is that kinda like Arlecchino with Lyney & Lynette hahaha. Anyway—

Speaking of cool lady, Clorinde looks really handsome. The wispy hair, the sharp hat, the cold look— To me she feels like… I dunno, a combination of Furina and Neuvillette hahaha. Apparently she’s the body guard of Furina? I wonder how it’d be if Clorinde and Furina swapped clothes…

…Come to think of it, out of Furina, Clorinde, Arlecchino, Lynnette, Charlotte, and Navia, it’s only the last two that have their shoulders not covered by clothing, huh? Lynnette’s design with the black/white/teal colour scheme is refreshingly simple for a Genshin character… It’s nice.

TL;DR: apparently (one of) my type(s) of character design is just androgynous women in fancy long-sleeved jackets and long pants, a hat/other distinctive head-area decoration, with symbolic motifs and long ribbons/capes, black/navy and white base with bright blue and gold accents… Light/dark contrast between hair/face area and top-half clothing colour… (E.g. Furina with a white outfit, or dark-skinned Clorinde with a black/navy outfit wouldn’t look as distinctive to me.)

…That’s basically Eula isn’t it. Eula looks really pretty but I think she’d look better with long pants and not the belts/harnesses. Also, personally I feel the right side of her lapel and her cape doesn’t read very clearly. There’s too much going on near her upper torso (similar shapes to Kaeya). She’d look even better if her lapels are sleeker and the excessive details overall are toned down. Mmm, actually— Now that I’ve finally read her entire character story for the first time (I want to cry because of how the symbols tie into her story and personality well), I think it’d be nice if the glacier vs spindrift idea is more present in her outfit, with some dance motifs… A beautiful and proud blade that shimmers above the waves, twirling amidst the candles’ glow…

#dusk answers #Genshin impact #Fontaine #Focalors #Furina #Neuvillette #Clorinde #Eula #eula lawrence #design analysis #??#dusk analysis #character design #long post

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bwobgames · 1 year

Text

Previous First

"OLIVER!!"

"I'm so happy to see you!!"

"Oh. um. This is. A firm chest. Hm"

"Um, Excuse me, Do I know you?"

The man slowly breaks the hug

"You don't remember me?, All that happened?"

"Uh oh. This person knows me, and I completely forgot about them. Uh Think Think, Where could I meet a guy like this? and forget? Those two random years I took at college?? maybe??"

"Uh, from college right?"

"... Yeah. From college."

He looks sad

"I'm really sorry, I just really forgot most of my years of college, I mean, I was really going throught it so-"

"Hey, it's alright, it wasn't your fault.

It's just, we had a thing going on, you know? Romantic kind of thing"

"Really?"

"Oh wow. I mean, I could definitely see myself getting a crush on this guy. But to actually be reciprocated? College me had it good for being a burnout mess"

"In fact"

A little mischief sparks

"It's a shame you forgot what we did in the janitor's closet. You seemed very pleased with what my mouth could do"

"WHERE IS THIS MEMORY I NEED IT NOW"

"Just kidding! We held hands and thought of playing minecraft"

"Oh, so pretty serious then"

"Yeah, but then... Things out of our control happened. And now we're here."

"I .. still don't really remember. But it must be true, seeing how this guy's prescence somehow gives me comfort.

I wonder if would it be possible to ... keep going? so to speak?

I mean, the market for men these days is so rough! Tinder dating just doesn't work for me! and this guy already had a thing for me and i could have a thing for him so!! and! and it was things out of our control right? so it's not like we fought or anything i think??

Would it be weird? to try and ... reconnect?"

#this is basically do you want full angst or small angst #allusions to gay sex??? in mY tumblr poll?? more likely than you thing #detective beebo

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dumps-write · 2 years

Text

Aqua-drowned Comfort

(Part one of Summer Escapades)

Dylan Lenivy x Male Reader

Word#: 4.4K

Synopsis: Following the silence that envelop the camp during nightfall, you had a brilliant idea of pulling Dylan (the only one awake + your favorite counselor-buddy) along to your plan of sneaking out and swimming in the lake. You didn't expect that Dylan would be in such a bad mood, so you cheered him up only for things to start getting heated.

TWs and CWs // Explicit Make-out session, Skinny Dipping, Bad Mood Dylan / Snappy Dylan, Bad Words, Reader's personality is as the same as the usual Dylan aka they're also a clown, Mentions of the campers, Other counselors are mentioned here as well, Blossoming Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Camp Crushes Mentioned, Emma and Reader are besties as well(implied), Dylan and Reader are somehow good swimmers.

A/N: A series for Dylan? Oh I couldn't have- This account was supposed to be for multiple fandoms but my Quarry imaginations has not yet burnout so.... You all have to keep up with my Dylan simp train cuz I'm like the driver of said-train. As always, please leave thoughts and stuff cuz I appreciate it alot! Oh and the hot stuff (ifykyk) would be on the part 2!

Dylan was closing up the radio hut for the night of the full moon, kids are already asleep in their cabins and other counselors are probably too. You creeped behind Dylan and tapped the tall man on the shoulder.

You felt his body jump at the sudden contact, Dylan looked back slowly and saw your face with an amused grin. “Really, dude? Shouldn't you be asleep?” he aggravates, locking the door to the radio hut before fully turning to you; a questioning look on his face, raising both his arm to his sides. “Out with it..?”

“Can't sleep, so.... how about me and you go on an adventure..? A planned one, of course.” You humbly persuaded, ignoring Dylan's unhappy tone. Your eyes wandered around the dark silent cabins and not a single peep could be heard.

Dylan raised an eyebrow at you before dryly laughing, clearly bothered by your 'plans'. “Nuh-uh, We'd both get fired definitely.” Dylan shook his head, twirling the keys to the shack in his fingers.

You looked at Dylan like he was a party pooper, that's weird, really weird. “Oh, I hear that now? Mr. H’s car is gone therefore he's not here, plus we'd only get fired if someone decides to show and tell. Come on, sneak out into the night with me, man.” Huffing as you tried to coax Dylan into carrying out a super secret mission.

“Look, dude... I have to wake up tomorrow early for my announcements. Hm... but, I'll bite, so what is this 'plan' of yours?” Dylan queried, his fingers making air quotes.

Dylan walked towards his cabin, you striding alongside him with furrowed eyebrows — getting slightly bored of Dylan. “Skinny Dipping.” you deadpanned.

Dylan looked at you with a weird expression, tripping over a rock as you let out a chuckle, catching him in the near-demise of his pretty face. “I’m going to sleep.” he gawked after thanking you for stopping his fall.

“Boo~ come on! It'll be fun, plus you seem like you're in a sour mood for some reason...” You try to convince one last time, putting on the most join-worthy face with a goofy grin.

Dylan hesitates turning on the door to his cabin and lovely bed, he looks back to you with a resigned sigh.

“Fine, BUT, I won't go full-on commando on the lake, alright?” he said, lifting a finger at you to make sure you knew he was serious; to which he rarely ever was.

A small celebratory cheer slipped out of you before you covered your mouth with your hands, looking around the place with no soul in sight to make sure no one really heard you.

“Alright, alright... I just needed someone to accompany me, that's all.. Also how'd you know I was referring to the lake, we have a pool, you know?”

“I saw a CCTV camera near the pool area, so I don't think you'd want Mr. H to see you with your dong waggling out and all.” Dylan responds, finally smiling lightly ever since the first time you approached him in the radio shack earlier. He looked at you smugly as you pulled at his hand to go down the small cabin staircase.

You gasped scandalously at Dylan's sentence before a small chuckle left your lips.

“Excuse me?! But... Fair enough, but why do you think I wouldn't want that?” you gaped with jaw drop, nodding your head in question of Dylan accusatorily, laughing lightly at the morphing of Dylan's smug face into the 'are you serious' expression.

“Don't give me that look, Mr. 'I make juice jokes about Mr. H' Lenivy.” You sassed, huffing slightly at Dylan's for-the-first-time stoic behavior.

The walk on the way to the lake was long through the dense, dark forest but Dylan kept you company and finally started to seem more like himself rather than his earlier 'Ryan-like personality'. However, you were worried at the way Dylan avoided your questions throughout the walk about his bad mood earlier. Whenever you raised that question, he managed to switch the topics to something else like an expert. It was worrying alright, you have to ask for the gossip tomorrow with Emma or get it out of him during the full-moon sneaky swim on the lake. You also brought a bag, you hid in the back of the outside of your cabin, it contained clothes, just in case your clothes or Dylan's got wet.

“Also, dude, how come you were still awake? The kids would definitely not approve of you leaving their cabins without supervision, especially not the twins.” Dylan asked, playing with the keys to the radio shack in his fingers, a relieved sigh leaving his mouth as the lake docks were visible.

“Oh my god, don't even mention them. I snuck out after putting the whiners to sleep, also, Didn't I begged you to let us switch cabins cuz my group will kill me literally before I reach a ripe age. They are devouring my sanity...” You cried, an aggrieved expression visible on your face as Dylan tried to keep himself from bursting into laughter but ultimately, failed to do so.

“Don't laugh at my suffering, you dick.” You reprimanded, clenching your fist — ready to hit this man with full force.

“Okay, okay...” He said, raising his hands up above his head in surrender.

“But sorry man, You're on your own there, my kids are not the best either but I sure as hell know that yours are a 100 percent times worse.”

“They are not! Um! The guy with the glasses, Uhm... Flinn! He's a good kid!” Scoffing at the audacity of Dylan and his ludicrous statement.

“Well, there's bound to be some good fruits among rotten ones but sorry to say, Y/N... That you have the most stinky basket of fruits.” He responds with a playful smile, but at the same time he consoled your unluckiness with his tone.

“You—! Ugh, that analogy isn't true, you know?!” You denied his words fully with a frown, his condescending grin looked very punchable right about now.

“Uh-huh, Keep telling that to yourself, it's totally bound to be factual at some point.” He sarcastically rebuked, swaying his arms as both your feet stepped on the planks of the docks, finally the cold lake breeze somehow relaxing both of you.

“Lucky Abi though, her basket of fruits has definitely the best ones.” Dylan added, taking in the breeze with a long inhale.

“I know right, Mr. H was unfair in separating them in groups, ugh.” You hissed with gritted teeth at the memory of your punishment for being late to the counselor's meeting on the first day aka he assigned the worst of the worst on you.

“Welp, we are here, Jesus christ... Let's stop talking about the brats and start swimming!” You cheered, Dylan laughing at your sheer enthusiasm and energy despite it being late at night.

You started removing pieces of clothing, starting from your top down to your underwear. As you hooked your fingers on your boxers, you stopped motions for a moment, the noticeable pair of eyes fixated on your strip tease made you freeze. “Dude, I can feel your eyes on the back of my head, some privacy.”

You looked back at Dylan with a leer, causing him to cough awkwardly before looking away. “Another man can look, it's not like you got a lot to hide anyway.” he said, rolling his eyes.

You huff out a laugh before removing your underwear completely and running toward the wooden docks’ end before diving a cannonball on the lake with a splash, a fun shout accompanying it.

“Come on, DJ! Get in here!” you said loudly, waving at him with a giddy expression.

“Yeah yeah... On my way, you... hyper-active merman..” he called out after you, going over to the edge of the dock before removing his shirt and frankly noticed your stare as your head was half-underwater with your other half plus body submerged, creating air bubbles with your mouth.

“That’s kinda creepy. Didn't you know that the bathroom waste from the island goes in there?” He explains, removing his pants before going in carefully with still his underwear on. Dylan's body shivered at the icy feeling of the water, being careful of ruining and wetting his hair.

“Gross.” you immediately straightened your body at Dylan's words of wisdom.

He chortles before swimming over to you as you were now face-to-face with the renowned DJ of the camp.

“Also, boooo! You should've removed all of it!” you jeered, giving Dylan two thumbs down to which Dylan responds with a roll of the eyes. “I told you earlier.” And now it was your turn to roll your own eyes.

“Nothing wrong with two guys fully naked on the lake, pussy.” you taunted him with a playful look, to which he gasped and dismissed with a disapproving exhale.

“Not every person is the same, you know?” he snapped, to which you furrowed your eyebrows out and looked at him in solemn apology.

“Sorry, sorry.. dude, what's up anyway? Spill, why are you upset?” you respond with both an apology and question causing Dylan to ignore the question and just nodded, “It’s fine.” he mumbled out, swimming away as your curiosity peaked at his abnormal and unusual behavior.

You grab him by the arm, causing the man's body to jolt and looking at you, confused. “No, I'm serious, Dylan. What's going on?” you said firmly, not letting this one go as you were not only curious but also extremely worried for Dylan.

“It’s nothing, just mood swings. Alright? Just let it go.” he responds, uttering it silently —barely to be heard as tried to shake your hand off of him, causing some small splashes of water

“No, you're not usually like this and mood swings are not a reason and you know it.” you were not buying his half-assed explanation as much as you wanted to mind your business, you just couldn't.

Dylan stayed silent, glancing at you hesitantly.

“Is it because... I invited you here..?” You said cautiously, your throat swallowing the horrible feeling creeping up your spine, the last thing you'd want is for Dylan to hate you. Your grip on his arm slowly loosening at the gloomy feeling. At some point, you thought all of the counselors hated you, well except Dylan who you get to make jokes and laugh with. His blasè-ness rubbing off of you as days pass by.

“No, No! God, no, it's not you.” Dylan chided, sighing in forfeit as he peeped at you in embarrassment. Dylan reached and squeezed your hand underwater.

“Just... I saw my summer crush, getting chummy with one of the other counselors.” He confessed awkwardly, his face tinting in red at what he just admitted. He bit his cheek as he waited for your much-needed response.

“Oh.” Was all you could mutter though as you released a long exhaled breath that you didn't know, you were holding.

You wanted to laugh at your earlier presumption but the air was a bit tense for you to do so. “Well, whoever they are, they're clearly missing out on a lot of things.” You said with a small chuckle scanning Dylan's face and the upper part of his torso which was visible thanks to the moonlight.

“Thanks, means a lot man.” He blurted, smiling awfully wide to himself.

You drag him by the hands harshly, surprising him and causing him to suddenly scream in the most high-pitched tone you could imagine, the sound of your loud-ass laugh echoing in the air as you pulled him towards the middle of the lake which he protested slightly before agreeing. His sulking face earlier was fully vaporized into nothing as his normal and usual goofy smile was back now.

You and Dylan were now underneath the docks, back against the wall as you both were tired from splashing and swimming around. His mood seemed to improve quickly.

So now, you are now having 1-on-1 conversation with Dylan again instead of playing around the water earlier. “So who's this summer crush?” You asked curiously, thinking of all the possibilities. Truth be told, you don't even know if Dylan likes men or women.

“Nope, not happening. What about you? I have a strong feeling that it's Mr. H~ At this point, you should ask for his number.” Dismissing the question entirely and started to tease you as he curled his eyebrows at you.

You stared at him with daggers for eyes.

“Kidding~ but I feel like if you did have a crush, Hm... Let me see... It would be Emma and like you always talk with her and— sometimes it looks more like you're his boyfriend rather than you-know-who.” Trying to expose your secret feelings harbored for one of the counselors for with his detective smarty skills.

“Emma, really? That's your take? She has a himbo for a boyfriend already.” Rolling your eyes at Dylan's take on your nonexistent love interest.

“Is that you admitting that you're a himbo? Plus nothing wrong with being interested with someone in a relationship, well, as long as you don't try and ruin it. See, forbidden love and all.” He exclaimed, a soft laugh following right after his words.

“Dick.” You croaked, ignoring his words and criticizing his terrible "cupid" know-hows.

“Love is not my fortè but..! My love detector is detecting beep beep... It say it's Emma, basically.” He finalized his answer with a smug expression, treating it as some kind of who wants to be a millionaire game. You scowl at him as he laughed to himself loudly. “You were the one who wanted to get me out of my bad mood, so now you have to deal with this dirtbag!”

“It's not Emma, or any of the counselors or anybody in general.” You certified seriously, moving closer to Dylan as your shoulder made contact with his.

“Okay, maybe now I should regret it. Like dude, you were like Ryan 2.0 but much more snappy.” you groaned out, taking a deep breath of midnight air. It was getting late.

Dylan huffed at the mention of Ryan’s name and poked you on the waist, “Mr.... Mounte... bank” He teased, trying not to cackle as he tilts his head side to side with each syllable.

Dylan looked at you with a cheeky grin as you smiled to yourself at his antics. “Oh my god, stop.” you laughed at the way he phrased it, nudging him with your elbow on the side as the atmosphere was filled with laughter as your eyes wandered upwards then the ambience suddenly came to a silent halt with Dylan and you just relaxing.

You look at the sky with a cheesy grin, “You know, what if I say something cliché, like moon's pretty but you're pret—” You stopped your words to avert your eyes to the silent guy.

Turning your head towards him — Dylan staring at you with a blank expression as if the cogs of his brain was turning. “Hello? Anybody home?” You were about to wave in his face in confusion of his stasis before you felt a sudden force shove you into the wall of the docks. “Ow—!”

As you were rammed suddenly, you felt something soft against your lips till you finally blink out of the confused state to find Dylan.

Dylan was the one who pushed you and now is kissing you with closed eyes, Dylan's hands on the side of your face as Dylan brushed out some hair strands on your forehead as he sensually kissed you.

He pulled away to look into your shocked eyes, blinking eyes.

“Sorry..” he mutters shortly, a look of embarrassment on his eyes.

You find yourself suddenly wrapping your hands around Dylan's neck and reconnecting your mouths, as Dylan shoved you into the wall impossibly further. He felt surprised, giddy and excited as his hands wandered down to your bare hips submerged in water. You were busy tasting his mouth for you to notice as your other hand moved up to his hair, despite it being drenched in water.

His lips tasted a bit weird due to the water but it didn't phase you one bit as you made out with Dylan under the shadow of the docks. A feeling of fire igniting just right below your belly as the clash of lips got more intense. Not a single word was uttered and the moonlight shining below you like a spotlight. The tension between the two of you was suffocating but the sound of water slightly splashing — drowned out the heavy mingling breaths that was drifting into the night air.

Your hand rested on the front of Dylan's underwear, he didn't seem to mind it but you kept it there just to make sure you weren't going too far.

However Dylan's frisky hands had other plans as he cupped your bare butt against the wall as his tongue started to push against the crack of your lips.

It all became a mess of saliva and tongue in just a few seconds, you couldn't pull away as does he.

Somehow Dylan manages to keep you both afloat the water.

You feel Dylan hiking your legs to wrap around his waist underwater — suddenly biting your lips when your semi-hard dick rested against his stomach.

Dylan pulled away from devouring your lips and looked at your eyes for your reaction but you tried to catch your breath first. “Wow... That was..” you exasperatedly mutter under your breath.

“Good?” he responds with a flushed face, resting his forehead against yours as you both tried to catch your breaths from the abrupt yet intense make-out session that you and Dylan definitely didn't expect to happen but still continued.

“Yeah... And that was gay of you..” you breathed out with tinted smile, face still a bit warm from the shuddering experience.

“I think you kissing back was gayer.” He responded with a long laugh that made his eyes twinkle beneath the bed of stars in the night sky.

“Well, let's get out of the water, first, Romeo.” You instructed, winking at him as you swam over to the edge of the dock with Dylan just right behind you.

The wide smile on Dylan's face made butterflies appear on your stomach, it was a nice... feeling.

You hoisted yourself up on the dock with a groan, completely forgetting you were naked from the waist down. “Nice ass, man!” Dylan whistled from the water with a series of laughter.

“Shut up!” you grunt out as you run over to your bag immediately and wrap a towel around your waist, sitting down in one of the chairs. Dylan already rose up from the lake too, damping his hair after you threw him a towel also.

Dylan sat right next to you and found you just staring into the dark lake with the only remaining light are the array of stars and the big white cratered dot on top of the sky, which made the vibe all silent and deafening.

“Okay, now, the elephant in the room.” you point out and clapped your hands together for the discussion causing Dylan to giggle like a high school girl causing you to look at him with one raised eyebrow. This man is driving you crazy, both mentally and physically.

“What was that?” you asked, straight to the point.

“I may or may not have found you too handsome and pretty at the moment and I wanted to make out with you.” He said with a tone that you couldn't define if it was a joking type or a serious one.

“Dylan... The truth, please.” you whisper in a way that made you look too vulnerable, it looked like all the hidden, ignored feelings you had for him in quote 'a while' was about to just pop a bottle open that should be kept in its box.

“I like you. In a gay type of way.” he mutters seriously looking at you before you started to burst into laughter at the way you said it.

“T-That's...." Your voice wavers for a bit, laughing lightly the cold air making your skin crawl as you now lay your head on Dylan’s shoulder. The dim lights lit the surrounding barely but the comfort of Dylan's presence made you feel safe.

“Was I your summer crush then? I didn't get all chummy with anyone, though.” You said matter-of-factly, tone calming when Dylan snaked his arm around your shoulders. The dripping sound of water from your soaked bodies on the ground made you relax against the tall guy, the atmosphere set as you just stared at the white circle of a moon.

“Nope. Doesn't really matter who it was though.” he responds simply,

“Oh? okay...” You wanted to say more about the particular topic but kept your prying mouth away instead.

“We'd better get back, someone will probably tell on us if they find us missing.” You mumbled against Dylan's neck as the romantic setting was making your head feel a bit light. This feeling of your heart drumming against your chest? You yearned to chase it.

“I mean, if you want us to wake up to the kids teasing either of us because of the wet sheets that we'll probably have when we go to sleep like a wet baby duck, then.... I am definitely all for it.” Dylan quips with a comical, witty tone. Nudging your head teasingly as he looked towards his shoulder to find you staring at him with your chin laying against his joint.

You snort at his words, rolling your eyes at him. “Okay then, smartass. What's your plan for the night?” You asked, an arrogant look on your face.

“Well, let's sit here for a bit until we get all dry and cozy.” He recommends, smiling at you and ignoring your directed condescending look towards him.

Dylan's hand on your bare waist started to rub circles against your skin causing a momentary of sheepishness to slip on your expression.

“Oh my, the short-tempered counselor is getting all sappy.” Dylan pipes dramatically, causing you to groan at his words elbowing his side before grabbing Dylan's towel skillfully ripping it off his body, leaving him once again in his boxers causing him to gasp at the glacial air hitting his lower regions.

You started to run away from the man in a fit of giggles, his towel on your hand and your other hand gripping your own so as to not go butt-naked in the heat of the fun.

“Hey! Man..! Hey! Ow! Get back here!” Dylan starts to chase you in his underwear, accidentally hitting his head something as he stands up.

Sadly, the moment was cut short as Dylan managed to catch up to you, pulling you down to the wooden ground with him. He snatches the towel on your hand and pins you in place.

You struggle to no avail against him as you were still laughing despite Dylan's funnily serious expression.

“Okay, okay... I give up.” You said with a light-hearted chuckle. Dylan's grip isn't loosening one bit though.

“How about revenge, Mr. Thief?” Dylan was snickering evilly as he straddled you against the ground, hooking his finger around your towel — loosening the grip it has on your waist, to which you looked at him with panicked eyes

“H-Hey! Uh— Unless you wanna see my dick, I suggest you don't do that.” You prattled, a nervous laugh accompanying your words.

“Who said that I don't want to?” He whispers seductively when he leaned down against your ears.

“H-Heh.. Hah.. Hardy har har, Dyl..” you tried to sound the least bit humorous, but the apparent quiver on your voice was not very well-hidden.

Dylan got off you with a victorious smile, an overbearing expresion visible on his face. “You owe me one~” He jests, causing you to roll your eyes at him as you stand back up with a wry of amusement curdling your lips.

You dismissed what he said with a huff of disbelief, dusting off your towel as you secured it back on because Dylan made it hang awkwardly. “That was already payback though, you shoved your tongue down my throat earlier, remember?” You mused, walking over him as you hit him in the middle of his chest.

He looks at you quizzically, raising his eyebrows at you. “Oh no no no, you kissed back therefore you wanted it as well.” He reminds you, sticking his tongue out at you. Dylan wrapped his towel around his waist again as he winked at you alluringly as he walked towards the road on the wrong way.

“Wrong way, idiot. The camp's over here!” You pointed out, a chortle slipping out of you.

“Plus I'm not dry yet!” You added as Dylan started to walk to the other direction with sass.

“You're on your own~! My bed is awaiting the great ol' Dyl. And my job starts early~!” He replies with a wave of the hand and with that he's gone, the guy doesn't even know the direction to anywhere so what's the point.

You look at Dylan's discarded shirt and pants with a grunt and a conceded look on your face,

After collecting every single clothing and the radio shack key that he somehow forgot, a tired sigh slipped out of your lips. Not only does a guy suddenly make-out with you and you do it back, he also left you alone in the dark. You still wonder if it is Dylan experimenting or what, you couldn't read the guy like an open book, he has a sharp tongue for jokes and a silly, goofy behavior. On the contrary, you can barely tell if he's serious or if he's doing things for his own amusement. Sure, he has his moments of weakness when he's feeling shy or overwhelmed at times but a bitter taste is still left from your mouth from the event earlier: Is he just fucking around with you, or if he is actually serious about all of this? You'd beat yourself up to sleep, maybe not even go to sleep at all because of this but then, you have duties tomorrow at dawn as well...

“Is this a good idea?” you mumble to yourself, clutching the bag of clothes, dropping the radio shack keys into it in a bit. It felt like an anvil had just dropped itself on your shoulder and your heart somewhat sinks at your collective thoughts.

Hopefully morning duties won't be awkward at all.

Hopefully.

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