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platypanthewriter · 3 years

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The Devil Looks After His Own (Ch.1)

Little Steve Harrington is so lonely he tries summoning a demon with a ritual advertised on TV--but luckily, it doesn't work, and a buff, non-human nanny hired by his mom shows up minutes later. Years later, they're best friends, and Steve still doesn't know the truth. For @magniloquent-raven!

When his dad finally locked him out of the office, Steve spent the morning sitting in the hallway playing with his Legos. When his stomach growled, he knocked quietly, and his dad’s voice on the phone continued, so he went in the kitchen to forage. He found Cheez-its, and olives, and a tightly wrapped triangle of gooey cheese that tasted good in the middle, but had gross, chalky skin, so he licked the middle out and stuffed the rest down the side of the garbage.

He walked back into the front room and flipped the TV on, just to make some noise. “In the future,” came the syrupy voice of the man on the screen, “—we’ll have robots to be our helper-friends!” He chuckled to himself, leaning back in his leather chair, and folding his arms on his huge wooden desk. “But that doesn’t work for us now, I hear you say.”

The camera zoomed out, and he waved to a woman with curly hair and long fangs, sitting on the edge of his desk. She was wearing way less clothes than the man was, and Steve frowned, wondering whether she was cold. “Our summoning spells are assembled by real lawyers, and airtight!” the man said, and the woman nodded, smiling, and holding up a picture with a lot of numbers and lines. Steve squinted at it guiltily—he’d seen the man’s ads before, and he mostly remembered the picture, probably.

The helper-friend lady looked nice, he thought.

“Too good to be true? We even include offerings! Bat eyes, tears of the innocent—” he said, smiling and holding up jars, as ‘ethically sourced from internment facilities’ scrolled across the screen.

Steve frowned around, and then grabbed his LEGO 1969 Chevrolet Camaro Z/28, the most complex set he owned.

“Honey,” the man told the woman on screen, and she opened a can of soda, and poured it over her own head, still smiling. “Perfectly compliant,” he said. “And just wait, there’s more! Any purchase comes with a matching, complimentary summoning sigil for a protective home guardian! Just drip a drop of fluid—” he winked at the camera, and it showed something red splashing across the page, as his voice suddenly screamed “Augh-no! Don’t—”

Steve had already grabbed the remote and hit the fifteen-second replay, and began drawing out the picture. He hit it again and again, coloring in different colors, and wishing people in commercials didn’t always yell. He drew the circle carefully with a piece of thread from the long fringe on a throw-blanket he wasn’t allowed to mess up, then folded it carefully again, grimacing. He colored in the crosses with a different color so it looked nicer, and drew the little castle wall-looking-bit. He added a horse.

When it came time to drip fluid on it, he clicked the TV off, and got a juice box from the fridge, figuring apple juice was way less gross than blood, and it wouldn’t ruin his picture.

Steve stared at the picture, holding the juice box, and thinking. He imagined not eating alone. He imagined the nice lady smiling at his Legos—maybe she’d like the castle set, he thought, like in her picture. He’d just summon her for a little, he thought—just a few minutes, enough to make them both a PB&J.

His stomach growled—again—and he frowned at his dad’s office door, sighed, plonked the Camaro in the middle of the picture, and squeezed the juice box to spray over it all.

Nothing happened. Steve stared at the picture for a long moment, his eyes welling up with tears, and then kicked the couch. It felt like his foot broke from the impact, and he spun around in a circle, muttering a lot of words he wasn’t allowed to say in the house. He hopped into the kitchen, sniffling, and got out the peanut butter, jam, and a spoon—but instead of getting the bread, he sat on the floor in front of the sink.

He felt a sinking sensation of guilt as he stuck the spoon right into first the jam, and then the peanut butter, sticking the whole spoonful straight in his mouth and licking it off. Once he’d licked the spoon, he stuck it back in the jar, his heart pounding. The peanut butter was crunchy and salty, and the strawberry jam was stickily sweet. He wondered whether his mom would check the bread and know, and cried harder as he chewed, hugging his knees.

The floor in the front room creaked, and he startled so hard the spoon jabbed hard between his upper molars. He scrambled to his feet, fumbling the lids back on the jam and the peanut butter and shoving them under the sink, his heart thudding in his chest, but nobody came in.

The couch squeaked softly, and Steve edged to the doorway, the big spoon hanging forgotten from his mouth, to see a tall man with horns and no clothes at all lying across the couch, right up against the forbidden throw blanket. He raised his eyebrows—they had shiny jewelry in them—and breathed out smoke, indoors, as he looked up at Steve.

He then yelped and scrambled to fall with a thud over the back of the couch. “The fff—what are you doing here, kid,” came his voice, from behind the couch. “Where the—where on earth are your parents?!”

“Unhm,” said Steve, who hadn’t ever seen a man wear so much jewelry before, and wondered how much it hurt to have jewelry in your dick. He took the spoon out of his mouth. “Uh. Dad—dad is—in there,” he pointed vaguely toward his dad’s office, his eyes still fixed on the horns sticking up past the back of the couch. “Do...do you want me to...get him?”

The naked man popped up behind the couch again, looking kind of mad, and Steve stepped further back, watching the golden chains and jewels glint in the light from the window. “...you look very pretty,” Steve said politely, and the man groaned, grabbing the blanket as he stood, and wrapping it around his waist like a towel.

“Why the—why are you here,” he hissed, and Steve swallowed.

“I’ll go in my room,” he tried to say, but it came out kind of a weird whisper, and he realized he was starting to cry again, so he turned away, and the man scrambled from behind the couch.

“Wait! Kid,” he said, and Steve stopped to see him step and spin kind of gracefully around the glass coffee table without catching the blanket on it. All his nails were pointed, and painted black. “I’m sorry—” he cut off, staring down at Steve’s picture, and the LEGO 1969 Chevrolet Camaro Z/28.

“...what’s this,” he asked, like maybe he was mad again, and Steve wondered, suddenly, whether his mom had forgotten to lock the door, and the man was a naked burglar, looking for clothes to steal.

“I wanted to meet the TV lady,” Steve admitted, trying to take it, but the man snatched it up. “Um, are you—are you a burglar?”

“Am I—” the man glared at him—his eyes looked like fire, weirdly, the blue fire on the stove—but he didn’t look mad at Steve, yet, so Steve just bit his lips together. “...you drew this?” the horny man asked, more quietly, and Steve nodded. “Why?” he asked, and Steve knew he was in trouble—even if the man wasn’t supposed to be there, grownups always told each other when Steve did something dumb, like steal the TV man’s picture, which was the point Steve realized he was a stealer, a thief, like on TV. America’s Most Wanted, he thought, his heart pounding.

“Why draw this?” the man asked softly, crouching down, and Steve sniffled again, wiping his eyes.

“He said a friend would come,” he admitted, wondering whether kids had their own jail, or whether he’d be in the one with all the guys from movies, who chased teenagers with chainsaws and knives.

“You wanted a friend?” the man asked, but even softer, and Steve nodded, clenching his fingers in the sides of his pants.

“I didn’t mean to steal it,” he whispered. “I won’t do it again.”

“...okay,” the man said. “Don’t—don’t cry, it’s okay, are—are you okay?” he held his hands up like he was gonna touch Steve’s shoulders, then crossed his arms, frowning.

“I’m okay,” Steve nodded, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “...are, um,” he asked, cautiously, “—are you supposed to be...in here?”

“Uhhh,” said the man. “Definitely not naked, right?” he laughed, kinda nervously, Steve thought, and he snapped his fingers. The throw blanket turned into shiny fringed pants.

“Ohhh,” Steve whispered, impressed. “How’d you do that?”

“Oh,” the man said, grimacing. “Um, let’s talk about you summoning demons, okay?”

“...okay,” Steve nodded, sighing, but then a thought occurred to him. “Uh, do you want a PB&J?”

As they ate, the man spread Steve’s picture on the table, with the LEGO 1969 Chevrolet Camaro Z/28.

“So this is a circle to summon the demon Belial,” he said, low but kind of intense, like Steve was in trouble, but mostly he looked sort of worried.

Steve swallowed his bite of sandwich. “...it’s not exactly the same,” he pointed out, a little sulkily. “I added a horse.”

“...so you did,” said the man, turning it to look. “...look, summoning demons is very dangerous—”

“My dad says there aren’t bad demon summoners,” Steve told him. “He says there are bad plumbers, and bad strippers, but if you’re talking to somebody, and they summoned a demon, they must be good at it, because you’re talking to them, and—and he was on TV—”

“Strippers,” said the man weakly, and Steve realized he was being rude to his guest.

“I’m Steve,” he said. “What’s your name?”

“...Bel,” said the man, then, hurriedly, “Bill?”

“My mom likes Billy Idol. And Billy Joel,” Steve suggested, and the man nodded.

“That’s a normal name that I definitely have,” he nodded, grimacing, “—Billy, I’m Billy.”

Steve considered this.

“Are you listening, though? About demon-summoning? Even a lot of adults have a hard time with it—” Billy started again, holding Steve’s LEGO 1969 Chevrolet Camaro Z/28 to his chest like it was a present for him.

“The guy on TV said it was for a helper friend,” Steve told him, feeling a little guilty, but really not too much, since it hadn’t even worked.

“Steve,” Billy said, pressing his hands together over his mouth. The chain hooking his earring to the ring in his lip swayed and made a bell sound, and Steve stared at it, then remembered to nod. “Okay,” Billy said. “Could you promise me you won’t try to summon any more demons?”

“My dad says—” Steve started, again, but he cut off guiltily as Billy slumped back in his chair, groaning.

“Look,” Billy tried again, rubbing his face. “Summoning demons isn’t like inviting somebody over, okay? They have to come. Now imagine if someone called you up to—” he frowned down at himself, biting his lips with pointed teeth, and cleared his throat. “Uh,” he said, swallowing, and snapped his fingers with both hands—and all the jewelry vanished. Even his cool horns were gone, Steve realized, and he had clothes on, a little tiny black shirt that showed his belly button, and shiny plastic-y silver pants.

It was disappointing, but Steve looked into Billy’s flameless eyes and blunt-toothed smile and politely said “...you still look nice...I guess.” Billy snorted a laugh. “...I’ve never seen pants like that,” Steve offered, and Billy frowned down.

“What’s wrong with them?” he asked, then shook his head. “No, wait. Okay. What if you don’t want to go somewhere—”

“People make me go places all the time,” Steve said darkly, remembering the week before, when his mom had drug him in for a haircut that made him look like G.I. Joe. He rubbed his still-fuzzy head, glowering.

“Uh,” Billy said, trying not to smile, but spinning the tires on the LEGO 1969 Chevrolet Camaro Z/28, and Steve was a little proud that he liked it so much. “Okay, a stranger. What if a stranger makes you go somewhere you don’t want to go?”

“That’s kidnapping,” Steve said, breathlessly, his eyes huge, and Billy pointed the LEGO 1969 Chevrolet Camaro Z/28 at him.

“Yes. When you summon a demon, you’re kidnapping them, okay? And they can’t leave unless you let them go.”

“But the man on the TV said—” Steve whispered, then stopped, remembering how he’d made the almost-naked woman pour soda on her own head. Steve covered his mouth, suddenly realizing she might not have wanted to be almost-naked, maybe the man had taken her clothes off, like Steve with a doll. “Oh no,” he whispered. “I’m so glad it didn’t work!”

“Ah, yeeeah,” Billy said, grimacing.

“Um,” said Steve, reaching a hand over to retrieve his prize LEGO kit, and Billy snatched it back. Steve narrowed his eyes. “You were looking for my parents, but my dad didn’t say you were coming over, are you my mom’s friend?”

Billy winced, grimacing. “Where is she?”

“She’s at work,” Steve told him. “Daycare is too expensive, so over the summer I have to be good.”

“Wait, are there any grownups here?!” Billy asked, looking horrified, and Steve nodded, pointing down the hall again.

“My dad. He locks the door.”

“...What if you drown in the bathtub, or try to eat your own fingers, or something,” Billy breathed, and Steve glared at him.

“I’m not little,” he hissed, sliding forward in his chair a little, so his toes reached the floor. “I’m not a baby.”

“You don’t need a friend, you need a nanny,” said the recently smoking, horned, pierced and tattooed man before him. “And that’s, uh, that’s why your mom sent me.”

“...did she really send you?” Steve asked, narrowing his eyes, and Billy crossed his arms on the table, hugging Steve’s LEGO 1969 Chevrolet Camaro Z/28 against his chest.

“Yeah. Yeah, she did,” he said defiantly, and Steve relaxed a little, because Billy sounded like a teenager, just a bigger kid, really. “She said to put less peanut butter and jelly in your sandwiches,” he pointed to Steve’s overflowing PB&J-bread-burrito, looking smug, “—and just make another sandwich.”

Steve gasped, staring at him, and feeling absolutely betrayed. “You tricked me! Why’d you let me make it!”

“It’s okay, I won’t tell,” Billy said, and Steve’s heart was won.

Billy won it further when he scooted his plate aside to admire the LEGO 1969 Chevrolet Camaro Z/28, and Steve drug him back to his room to show him the kits he had. “Come on,” he said, excited and rude, and Billy slowed way down, grimacing, and flickering back to his pretty bejeweled self, with horns.

“How about you ask if I wanna do things,” he said stiffly, slowing almost to a stop, and smoking more around the eyes.

“Oh, yeah,” Steve nodded. “Sorry. Can I show you my room?”

“Or maybe, ‘Hey, Billy, want to see my room,’” Billy suggested, taking a deep breath.

“Okay,” Steve nodded. “Want to see my room?”

“Sure,” Billy nodded, relaxing like it was some big relief.

It occurred to Steve maybe it was. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “I’ll be polite, I won’t get you fired.”

“Um, yeah,” Billy laughed, shaking his head. “Maybe don’t, uh, order me around.”

“Yeah,” Steve nodded, thinking hard about it, so he’d remember. “I won’t say ‘Billy, pick me upOOF—” he wheezed, as Billy yanked him into the air with one arm around his waist. “Sorry,” Steve wheezed, his feet kicking. “I-I’ll say Billy would you, sorry—”

“Shit! Damn it, I mean, uh, sorry,” Billy said, grimacing, and sat Steve back on his feet, straightening his clothes.

“I’ll remember,” Steve told him, wide-eyed, and then, because Billy looked guilty, “It’s okay.”

He tried hard to remember, and he usually did, because Billy got all tense and weird if Steve forgot, like he was trying to move underwater, and Steve had to yell “If you want! If you want!” as Billy grimly bit into the crunchy, burned eggs Steve had made.

“That was disgusting,” Billy told him, that time, and Steve couldn’t stop laughing, waving his hands.

“Okay, okay, can I—can I just tell you you can ignore me? I won’t tell, you can just—just do things if you want to—”

“...you sure about that?” Billy asked, snorting softly, like Steve might be kidding, and Steve nodded frantically.

“Yeah! Yes! Don’t, um, don’t eat any more eggshells, I’m sorry!”

“...okay,” Billy said, smiling down at him. “When am I not supposed to listen?”

“Uh,” said Steve, blinking at him. “I mean. You should—you should always listen—”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Billy said, rolling his eyes.

“No, you should!” Steve told him, grabbing Billy’s hand and tugging it. “What if something’s gonna hit you in the head? You should listen,” he nodded, thinking about it. “But once you listen, you should decide what you want to do.”

“What if I wanted to...eat you?” Billy asked him, reaching down to tickle Steve’s stomach, and Steve yelped, giggling.

“You won’t eat me,” Steve told him, leaning into Billy, to give him a hug. “You’re nice.”

Billy sighed, and hugged him back, tightly.

Billy was better at some things than other people, like clothes, Steve thought, because Billy was always pointing people’s outfits out, and explaining how they weren’t as good at picking them. He wasn’t as good at other things, though. Steve sat down one night to heated-up pasta sauce over Cheerios, and he didn’t want to say anything, but he was pretty sure that wasn’t right. Billy gave Steve’s mom a glass of water that was completely frozen because she said she wanted it iced, and when Steve’s dad told Billy to make burgers, Billy didn’t buy buns, or tomatoes, or anything, and he threw the meat in the pan until it caught fire.

Steve was pretty sure none of it was a joke, because Billy frowned between the glass and Steve’s mom, and grimaced over the burgers after Steve’s dad stomped away, and Steve caught him whispering into the phone to the neighbor, hiding half in the fridge like nobody was gonna notice it was open.

“Billy,” he whispered, and Billy jumped, as Steve crouched down next to him. The breeze from the inside of the fridge was nice, but it hardened all Steve’s suspicions, because no grown-up had ever left the fridge open, he was pretty sure.

“Yeah,” Billy muttered back, guiltily.

“...how old’re you,” Steve asked, and Billy flinched.

“Older than you,” he shot back, and that Steve was willing to give him, because Billy wasn’t human, and some things lived different amounts of time, like trees.

“Are you a kid too?” Steve asked, and Billy glared at him.

“No,” he said defiantly, and Steve nodded slowly, raising his eyebrows, until Billy groaned, deflating, sitting against the edge of the fridge and letting his legs sprawl out across the floor. “Look, I’m trying—”

“I won’t tell,” Steve said, reaching out and squeezing Billy’s hand. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“...teenager...maybe,” Billy admitted, grimacing.

“Okay,” Steve said, nodding. “Billy,” he said, trying to sound like a parent, or a teacher, and Billy’s shoulders hunched. “You need to tell me you need help,” Steve said, putting his hands on his hips. “I can help with things like human food.”

“You are human food,” Billy said, fondly, yanking Steve into a hug.

Most of the people that did magic like Billy ate kids occasionally, Steve found out, as he was reading his Dictionary of the Magic Realms that night under the covers, by flashlight. Maybe they were mean kids, Steve thought, or maybe Billy was just way nicer. “Are you a fairy?” he asked the next morning, and Billy laughed.

“Depends on what you mean,” he said, grinning over. “Is that slang for—”

“Can you fly,” Steve interrupted, because that seemed the most important, and Billy cocked his head.

“...actually, I probably could,” he said, considering. “Not like you mean, though. I don’t have secret butterfly wings, or anything.”

“Oh,” Steve said, because he'd been privately imagining Billy as they’d first met, with the jewelry and the horns and wings, and it seemed to fit.

“...do you want me to have wings?” Billy asked, sitting aside the dish he was drying, and bending down sideways to try and meet Steve’s eyes. “I can change form—”

“No!” Steve told him, waving his hands. “No, I know you like looking like...that.”

“...that,” Billy said, raising his eyebrows as he looked down at himself. “You saying I need to do better?”

“You’re just—normal,” Steve said quickly. “Instead of pretty.”

“Instead of,” Billy growled.

“I mean,” Steve yelped, waving his hands. “Pretty with all the jewelry! And the horns.”

“I was gonna say,” Billy said, reddening. “If you’re saying I’m not pretty—”

“Of course you’re pretty,” Steve said, rolling his eyes and sighing, but grinning, too. He patted Billy’s shoulder.

“Well,” Billy said, clearing his throat, and turning back to the dishes. “All right, then.”

A few days later, Billy was moving the kettle off the flame for hot chocolate, and a big gout of steam belched up over his arm, which shimmered into all over scales. Steve yelped and grabbed him, yanking him over to the sink, and ran water over it, all the while panicking.

“Billy, are you a mermaid?!” he asked, spraying Billy’s arm, and trying not to cry. “Are you a mermaid, are you okay, are hot things bad for mermaids—”

“I’m okay,” Billy told him, turning off the water, and hugging him close. “I’m not a mermaid, Stevie, I’m not hurt.”

“O-okay,” Steve gasped, grabbing Billy’s arm to run his fingers over it. “You—you’re okay,” he whispered, leaning into Billy’s hugs. “...are you a...lizard? Or a snake?”

“Nope, not exactly,” Billy said, snorting a laugh, and Steve groaned.

The rest of my Harringrove works

#Harringrove #Demon!Billy #Summoner!Steve #Unintentionally??#Kind of?!#BFFs #Kid!fic #Comedy

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draven-imani · 3 years

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Journal 5 (part 1)

We’ve had an…extremely productive day. We found a note on Hosilla’s person that detailed three safehouses of the cult of Baphomet: Nyserian Manor, Topaz Solutions, and the Tower of Estrod. The note was signed SV—which I’m assuming is Stauton Vhagn. Looks like he came back and finished the job of destroying the Wardstone after Commander Tirabade stopped him the first time.

After talking to Aravashnial, Anevia, and Horgus, we pooled our information together. Nyserian Manor was owned by a noble who sometimes worked with Horgus, and had taken out a loan from him once to buy Commander Tirabade’s sword from her. Anevia hadn’t been aware Irabeth had sold her sword—apparently she’d told her wife she’d lost it. Anevia was going to be having words with the commander of the Eagle Watch upon seeing her again.

The Tower of Estrod was of interest to Aravashnial, as it was a place of arcane studies. He also requested that we look into the Blackwing Library, where the Riftwardens would be located.

Anevia wanted to look for Irabeth, and therefore would like to look into going home as that was the only lead she had on where her wife may be.

As we discussed, we exited the subterranean tunnels and entered the sewers. And came upon three orphan kids and a middle aged pinkish tiefling woman with many piercings and a bow. The orphans immediately ran to Luna, clearly familiar with her. Another point in her favor for ‘good person, not a murderer/serial killer/whatever else the rumor mill decides to say’.

“So you must be ‘Una’,” the tiefling said, imitating the orphans mispronunciation of her name. Or maybe legitimately mistaking her name for that. “Nice to meet you, incase you haven’t noticed, everything’s gone to hell.”

The tiefling introduced herself as Hiskaria. She had arrived in town from Numeria recently to join the Raven Corps, actually, although she was apparently a Kenabres native initially. She was on lone by one ‘Kevoth-Kul’, because she was a criminal on parole, and joining the Raven Corps was her penance.

Ouch.

Aaaaaand as the only member of the Raven Corps around that means it fell on me to keep her around until we could either find her handler or someone with more authority. That and strength in numbers. We couldn’t exactly leave her behind, even if she is a confessed murderer.

Oh, yeah, I didn’t mention that her crime was murder did I? Yeah, our new buddy’s a convicted murderer. One fake murderer and one real one, and if I had to put money on it, everyone’s going to get who’s who wrong.

After some discussion, we decided to head for Horgus’ manor first. It would provide a safe place to leave the orphans, so that we wouldn’t be dragging them around in the open where every demon still lurking around might decide to swoop down on them.

We made it there with only minor incident, some rat demon ripping up a clothing store who dubbed himself ‘the rat king’. He was of personal offense to Melody given that he was in the process of destroying things of beauty. That and the owners of the shop were still there and might be able to salvage some things.

Given my studies I was able to identify the demon as an Abrikandilu, a wrecker demon. A destroyer of beauty, not just of artwork like the dresses, but of physical beauty, using their fangs to cause horrible scarring on those they attack. I also knew that Radiance was the only weapon we had that would pierce its defenses, although it also had a unique weakness to mirrors, due to all demons of this kind having an abhorrence of their own visage. That being the case, I suggested that Luna and Melody slip into the store to get one of the mirrors from the changing rooms within while I distracted and fought it with Radiance and Hiskaria took pot shots at it from a safe distance.

Radiance and I were both more than happy to finally be putting a demon to the blade.

Spilling demons’ blood, at least, we both agree on.

Things went off about how we’d hoped. The Abrikandilu was a bit faster than I’d anticipated and it rushed me rather than me pinning it by the building as I’d planned, but I stopped its fangs with my shield and avoided any new scars. Melody and Luna came out with a mirror, which drew the demon’s attention. Luna’s axe stuck into it. Then Radiance slew it.

Radiance roared in my head each time it drew blood against a demonic foe, in what I can only describe as ecstasy. They, at least, get joy from battle. I wish I could say the same, but the demons die all the same. I feel good about it, that we slayed the demon and helped those people. It’s something good. Not joy, that’s too strong of a word. I feel—satisfied, maybe?

Regardless, the shop owners thanked us. They had little to offer and we tried to assure them that we didn’t need anything, but they insisted on at least providing us with a nice outfit each in thanks. I don’t think I’ve ever owned anything so fine. An orphan and a soldier don’t exactly make for elegant living.

Afterwards we made it to Horgus’ manor with no further incidents. His holdings were untouched. Melody mused at first that perhaps someone was trying to frame him. However after some thought, Hiskaria and I disagreed with that assessment. Demons by nature would seek out where the most people are, the places where they could wreak the most havoc. And as we approached it was clear that his manor was devoid of life. It would seem that his men and his servants had fled their posts when the attack happened, and as a lucky result the manor had been untouched. I’ll give Horgus some credit here. While he was clearly visibly upset that the men he’d hired to protect his holdings had left their posts, he tried very hard to be reasonable that it was for the best that they’d left and protected the servants, and that it had indirectly kept the demons from destroying his things. He was however very upset that they’d taken all of the mints from the little bowl at the front entrance—as was Miss Melody, who bemoaned that it was quite rude of them. Ah what I would give to have her priorities.

Luna was shepherding the orphans—one of whom, Hamm, had taken a shine to Hiskaria’s magic and gotten it into his head that he was going to…what was it? Summon demons in his snot bubbles? Charming kid. Glad his entire world falling apart around him didn’t completely destroy his sense of innocence and wonder. Suppose he was lucky he ran into Hiskaria so the three of them didn’t get killed or worse. That’s a point in her favor.

After gathering up food from the kitchen and some entertainment for the kids from a room formerly used for the staff’s children while they were on the job, Horgus went down to the safest part of the manor: the vault. He opened the safe, which proved to have been completed untouched. Inside was more wealth than I’d probably ever seen in one place before, or ever will again. He paid Luna that looked like a rather hefty sum. Then he also paid myself, Melody, and Hiskaria 1000 gold for returning him here safely, although payment had never been promised. Hiskaria tried to argue that she’d only just joined with us, but he said that it was payment due to someone who couldn’t be here to take their cut.

Horgus…is a complicated man, I am beginning to realize. I cannot pin him down yet. Even more than most people, his words and actions do not align. And even some of his actions I think are more masks on top of that. Luna insists he’s a good man but won’t give details beyond that. She’s had a few private conversations with him, so I’m inclined to believe she knows something that’s given her that impression. And I trust Luna’s judgement in people.

As Horgus locked himself away, we heard the beginnings of him teaching the kids something or another about some…math thing. I don’t know, look, I’m not the one to look to about Abadar tax bracket stuff. Luna was just glad he was hopefully keeping Hamm from thinking about snot demons.

From there we went next door, to Nyserian Manor. Or what was left of it. Which was not much. At all. Or anything, really. See, the demons hadn’t been very discerning in their building demolition. They’d destroyed their own safehouse. Idiots. Served anyone who was inside right for betraying humanity to the demons.

Next up was Blackwing Library.

Oh Blackwing Library. This one made me angry.

If you know me you know that’s bad. Of course, you don’t know me, because you’re just a bundle of inanimate papers sandwiched in leather that I’m writing in to keep my tenuous grip on sanity together. Suffice to say: that’s bad. I don’t get angry easily. Unless you’re a Deskari worshipper or waving his symbol in my face like I’m a bull, but I mean, that’s just asking for trouble from any Iomedaen, really.

As we approached the library, it was immediately apparent that the entire thing had been decimated. Aravashnial was despondent. All of his friends and colleagues with the Riftwardens would have been there, and he feared the worst. While Melody and surprisingly Hiskaria tried to comfort him, Luna tried to sneak closer to look into the library. I stuck close to her, although not so close as to blow her cover.

What she saw was a turncoat Iomedaen with five librarians bound and gagged, and a sixth librarian being forced to pile books around them, to serve as both a book burning and a funeral pyre.

We didn’t have long to think as he pulled out the flint and tinder. Luna downed a potion of invisibility and vanished. We had to put our faith in her. And as usual, she didn’t let us down, as a moment later blood splattered across the floor and she reappeared behind the armored man with her hood up and a declaration that she was “the Butcher of Balestreet, Bitch”.

The cavalier’s two tiefling thugs tried to flank Luna, but I helped fight off one and Hiskaria finished them with a potshot from outside the door that got him right between the eyes, while Melody swooped in to take a stab at the other.

Luna clearly outmatched the man she was facing, and he was smart enough to realize it. He dropped his weapons, and offered to surrender. He swore if we let him go, he’d never do such a thing again.

The others seemed ready to let their guards down.

I didn’t buy it.

I could feel it. This was an evil man. The kind who would just turn around and do something like this again the second he had an opportunity, if we let him live.

Luna lowered her weapon to go deal with the tiefling thug. I told her what I just wrote, that if we let him go he would just harm others. She said it wasn’t going to be her choice to make.

If anyone was making this choice, it was going to be me, and me alone.

Melody tried to reason that maybe we could get some information out of him. That we could take him alive, and question him. After all, that’s what she was best at.

And then what, I asked her. What do we do with him after that? There weren’t any jails. The city was in chaos. Where do we put him when we’re done questioning him so that he doesn’t hurt anyone else?

He swore again that he’d just go away and be good. I called bullshit.

Melody said maybe he’d know more about the safehouses, or the other plans. What we’d potentially be walking into.

Fine. For the safety of the rest of the group, I’d take him alive.

So I punched the cocky bastard in the face and left him to Melody.

Hiskaria and Luna went about helping the librarians while Melody did her thing. She manacled the man and tied him up for a nice friendly chat. I stuck around. I didn’t trust this man. Kaleb, I learned his name was. Much good it did.

Melody woke him up. First thing he did was tried to play ignorant. Tried to pretend like he’d been possessed, like he hadn’t been in control of his own faculties before.

Bullshit. More lies.

Melody saw through his lies this time just as much as I had. She told him to start over and try again.

Next he tried to weave a sob story about how he’d been coerced into doing what he’d done. How he was a crusader who’s unit had been taken captive, and he’d been forced into committing evil acts out of desperation.

Again, nothing but lies. All he knew how to do was lie, habitually, spew whatever falsehood he thought would get him in our good graces.

When Melody and I called him out on it again, he snapped. In a final act of rebellious desperation, he finally told the truth. He’s nothing but scum of the earth. He was a crusader, and his unit had been wiped out, that was the one honest thing that had left this mouth. Afterwards he’d decided to hedge his bets and side with the demons, so he started committing every atrocity he could to try to win their favor. And he swore that when he died and went to the pits of the Abyss to be reborn he’d come back.

And flay us alive.

Bad choice of words.

I think the bull metaphor before was apt, because I certainly saw red for a moment. I don’t think anyone was in disagreement when I stabbed Radiance through his blackened heart at this point though.

We didn’t learn anything though. Except that he wasn’t a cultist. Just a psychopath who found an excuse to start killing people.

As we discussed our next course of action, the librarian we’d rescued approached us. He knew that Aravashnial was with the Riftwardens, and he knew what had happened to them. The Riftwardens after locking what they could in their vault had teleported to a different location, meaning Aravashnial’s friends were safely somewhere else. Unfortunately, a day later someone else arrived. Xanthir Vang. Another of Deskari’s generals. A worm that walks, a terrible creature that is both a swarm and one being bound to Deskari’s will. Xanthir cut through the floor, right above where the vault would be in the secret Riftwarden floors below, and lifted the entire vault from the floor. Then he ripped it apart like it was nothing. He seemed disappointed that the Riftwardens weren’t there—predictably, I suppose, since he had a personal grudge against them.

We found a single dead and dried up worm husk in a corner of the room. I don’t like this. It’s probably my imagination that my arm itches. Probably. Another of Deskari’s generals so close. That’s…terrifying.

With this information tucked away, we decided to head for Anevia’s home to look for clues of where Commander Tirabade may be. Mostly to make sure her wife was safe, and to inform her of everything we’d found out thus far, and a little tiny bit to ask her about that sword she’d apparently sold behind her back.

On the way, we were accosted by a skeletal demon from atop a building, who also called himself the rat king. He claimed the one we’d defeated before was a usurper, and then summoned a swarm of dire rats to attack us. We dealt with the dire rats handily enough. They took a few chomps at me, annoying little things. Between rats and lizards, do I just taste good or something?

Nope, just licked my hand to test it, I’m quite certain I do not taste good.

We arrived to a small unassuming house. Irabeth’s funds clearly went to things other than worldly possessions. Not that it was a bad house. I’m not trying to be judgmental of Irabeth Tirabade I’m just saying with her position most people would have much larger quarters, so she clearly puts hers to good use elsewhere. I’m not one to judge small living quarters, I live in the barracks. Which probably are in ruins now. Ah, well. Not like I had anything of sentimental value in there anyways. My fiddle, my sword, and my shield were on my person, those were the only things I might have cried over losing. And then my sword got forcefully replaced by a talkative holy blade anyways.

I wish I could say Radiance is growing on me like Horgus. Unfortunately, we got off an extremely wrong foot and they haven’t exactly tried to mend any bridges. Luna says I should be more assertive with them, since I’m the only one who can wield them, they need me to do their holy mission they want. And Radiance even agreed with her, because of course they did.

Figures. A guy tries to be nice to the holy sword who he’ll have to be working with for the foreseeable future and apparently even trying to just not make waves with the being you’ll have to work with talking in your head is the wrong move.

Fine…assertive. What do they want me to do, put Radiance in time out in their little box when they get uppity? That is a funny image though.

I’ve completely lost my train of thought.

Right, reread a few paragraphs, Anevia’s house. So, Luna and Melody took a peek inside to make sure nothing was lurking around inside.

Predictably, something was lurking around inside.

He was invisible, but when Melody began using detect evil he ‘pinged’, so she had an idea of where the invisible presence was. The invisible presence summoned a fire beetle outside to attack Anevia, but Hiskaria turned and shot it dead before it got a chance.

Melody and Luna had a good idea where the invisible foe was, and began to force him back into a corner, although their swings of axe and glaive kept hitting nothing but air.

I came in, and I swear to you Iomedae guided Radiance’s blade. Not only did I strike true, from the amount of red that splattered across the ground, I’m certain I hit something vital. That, and I made him very angry. The next thing I saw was an enraged orc, whose invisibility faded away as a blast of fire was released from his hand point blank in my face. Too familiar. Far too familiar. And then darkness.

And then I was awake again, Melody tipping one of my potions into my mouth. Luna had bloodied the orc, but he’d refused to go down in his blind frenzy. Then Hiskaria had stepped in and finished the job.

I proceeded to heal myself a little more thoroughly while the ladies talked to Anevia about what just happened.

Huh, now that Aravashnial and Horgus are gone I am the only guy in the little group of ours, aren’t I?

The prettiest guy in our group by default as well, not that that’s saying much.

Anevia recognized the orc, he was someone who Irabeth had stopped from some previous scheme years back, who she’d left out in the world alive. Apparently, he came back for revenge. He won’t be getting a third chance.

With that settled and no more assassins lurking about, Anevia went to her and Irabeth’s bedroom and opened a secret compartment. Inside she read a note and took out some supplies. She told us that Commander Tirabade and the other remaining Crusaders were hiding out at the Defender’s Heart tavern, and the passcode to get in was “Silverstrong”.

We decided to go straight there, as it was closer than any of the safehouses, and allies were still more useful than victories at the moment.

I was especially feeling that way when that damn skeleton ‘rat king’ showed up again, and threw a flock of vultures at us. Most of which decided to descend upon me. I know vultures are a bad omen but come on, that’s too on the nose even for me. What’s worse? Do you know what’s worse? What’s even worse than vultures? Fiend vultures. These things could smite. I had, no joke, five buzzards smiting me like a bunch of feathery antipaladins.

Just my cursed luck again. Why does Desna hate me?

So, yeah. I was hurting. And really wanting some rest. While everyone else was ready and raring to go for two more safehouses after we finished meeting with the Commander. I finished healing myself again and I was almost tapped out of spells, and completely out of potions. My fervor was wearing thin as well. Luna was all well and good, she didn’t use spells. Hiskaria was fine, she mostly only used her cantrips to empower her bow to fire twice—a neat trick that didn’t really cost her anything. Melody had used one judgement and some spells but she was just fine and equally ready to go.

Ever the weak link.

Eh, no point thinking like that, right? Plenty more happened after that. We arrived to Defender’s Heart and gave them the passcode. They came out to meet us, initially excited to see Anevia.

Then they saw Luna, still with her hood up in her Butcher guise from our fight earlier.

Oops.

We tried to explain that this wasn’t what it looked like. That she wasn’t actually a murderer. That the rumors and stories and reports were wrong. Anevia tried to back us up. Luna took off her hood, and pointed out that she drank one of the two of them under the table at this very tavern just a few days prior, and no one got hurt. Despite our best efforts, tensions were raising. The guards were going for their weapons, and we were surrounded. The paladins were throwing accusations, and no one was listening to our words, they were only hearing what they believed to be true.

Then a strong hand came down on both of the guards’ shoulders. A voice spoke, and told them that maybe sometime they should try actually using the gift Iomedae grants them to detect evil.

Irabeth Tirabade stood behind the two guards, in the flesh, as…everything as I ever would have imagined. Tall, proud, honorable, noble.

The guards scrambled to cast the detect spells, and predictably found that Luna was not evil. They were puzzled but relaxed somewhat. Then jumped and went for their weapons again when they looked in Hiskaria’s direction.

The Commander told them that it was alright, and held up some papers, saying all the paperwork was in order for Hiskaria.

It looked like she was officially Raven Corps now.

Commander Tirabade picked up Anevia and carried her inside, and asked the four of us to follow. She got to quarters where she could lay Anevia down, then turned to me.

And the conversation went something like this.

“Acting Captain of the Raven Corps,” she said.

I was flabbergasted for a moment then realized she had to be talking to me because there was literally no one else she could be talking to. “Me?”

#journal entry #pathfinder #pathfinder wotr #pathfinder wotr spoilers #Draven Imani

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91percentpynch · 3 years

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the cut that always bleeds - kevaaron au pt 3

kejerejean stans? this one is for you. no seriously this one is out of jean‘s point of view? cuz honestly i love that hoe so much. as always get your tissues ready guys. this is actually kinda long? and a mess? and no one beta read it so if there are mistakes or it doesn‘t make sense i‘m sorry!! this is not that sad? tw: mention of murder, mention of physically hurting someone, mention of stabbing, mention of the nest, mention of trauma

check this out to find the other parts:)

Jean has always been a light sleeper. He had to be in order to survive the horrors of Evermore.

So naturally the sobs - as silent as they might have been - woke him up. His eyes opened at once, he sat straight up. Almost automatically he got to his feet and left the room to get to Kevin.

After all, comforting Kevin was like breathing to him.

Jeremy followed Jean, because he would always follow Jean. Jeremy was like a moth and Jean was the light. Wherever he went Jer would follow.

So they went to Kevin‘s room. The striker laid in his bed, curled up, phone in his hand, uncontrollable sobs escaping his mouth.

„I see you took the call this time“, Jean said, surprisingly gentle.

„I wanted to end it. I wanted to have a clear cut. So tell me, why does the cut still bleed?“, Kevin whispered, his voice barely audible.

„Because it‘s a cut that always bleeds“, Jeremy told Kevin as he came closer, carefully and ever so gentle placing his hands on the other boy‘s back.

„He said he wants me to come back to him“, Kevin whispered while holding onto himself as if to try to stop himself from falling apart. „He told me he misses me. That he only gets high when he misses me“

It was quiet in the dark room, shadows were dancing, just as Aaron and Kevin used to dance in the dead of night underneath the night sky.

„You did the right thing Kev“, Jean replied in French while he got into the Bed behind Kevin. Just like they used to do in the Nest.

When Kevin was in his arms he began to hum a French lullaby into his ear.

Jeremy joined them after a second of admiring his beautiful boyfriend and the broken boy in his arms.

„Dude, do you want something? Hot coca? A special Knoxian hug? Us to get Andrew to gut that bastard? Wait, hold on. I forgot. Twin brother. Well, I can gut him for you? Andrew and this is a word by word quote told be once ‚You‘re like a little unicorn in a world full of wolfs with razor sharp teeths, learn to gut the wolfs, stay safe‘, so he taught me how to stab someone? Yeah okay that is not the topic right now, I can still gut Aaron though. I mean Andrew would try to hurt me, but then again I‘m his best friend so he does not have the rights to gut me, right?“, Jeremy offered him a toothy grin, while his hand wandred to his neck rubbing it nervously.

„Can you please not gut him? First of all: Andrew already tried to choke me once when Josten was in danger and I told them where he was, cause apparently yOu DoN‘t KeEp ThOsE tHiNgS tO yOuRsElF yOu FuCkInG mOrOn. I think you do keep those things to yourself if the other option is to get fucking murdered by the mafia??? But what do I know, am I right? After all I‘m just a narcistic, Exy-obsessed asshole without a personality. Bonus I have anxiety, panic attacks, probably depression and I‘m unlovable“, Kevin mumbled into his pillow, the voices of the other foxes, of the other teams inside of his head.

„Did they tell you that?“, Jeremy asked, not quite able to hide the sadness and pain in his voice.

„Doesn‘t eveyone think that?“, Kevin asked. „I mean I think they tend to forget that the woman who gave birth to me, the last woman who geniuely loved me besides maybe Abby, invented the job. I think they tend to forget that the fucking mafia killed her when they found out I‘m not theirs by nature, so the only solution was apparently fucking murder. Then they kidnapped me, brainwashed and tortured me to the point where all I knew was Exy. Oh and maybe they also tend to forget that Ravens were only ever allowed to do Exy, if you were privilegded enough sleep, and do more Exy“

„Kevin you are so much more than that“, Jean whispered into Kevin‘s ear while pressing him against his chest. Just as they used to do in the Nest. „I might be mad at you, because you left me alone with those psychopaths. I used to think you didn‘t care about me. But you were just like me, okay with less scars and less you know. However I cannot say I wouldn‘t have done the same. I understand you now, Kevin. And please, please stop saying those things. And now let us cuddle you and let Jer go through his ridiculous post break-up list. We‘re gonna cuddle you and all you have to do is trying to fall asleep. Used to help me when I was alone at USC. Could only sleep properly when someone held me. Well, Jeremy. Tomorrow we‘ll shove unhealthy food down your throat and watch Downton Abbey or whatever those historcial dramas you love so much are called. While stroking your hand or whatever you‘re into big boy. Afterwards we‘ll take the dogs out and force you to watch the fucking sunset. And I‘ll hold your fucking hand“

Kevin supposed the middle of the night was the time of long lost truths. „Okay“, he mumbled while he moved closer to Jean. Replacing his smell with Jean‘s. It took him a while to fall asleep but he managed.

At the same time Jeremy said „Mi amor, I love you, I really do, but that was literally the most romantic thing you said in the past two years? That is way more romantic than ANY date you ever planned for me? Rude? The audacity?“

„Moi soleil, you don‘t have the ‚cult kidnapped me and tortured me‘ card you can pull, you get the bonus treatmeant of any other people. Besides I literally have matching tattoos with you? I drew you like multiply times? I wrote like a dozen poems and at LEAST one short story? I wrote you a fucking lullaby? You have no right to complain right now, or you‘ll loose your kissing privileges and I give them to Kevin“

„Eww gross“, Kevin mumbled.

„I don‘t remeber you saying that back in the Nest“, Jean replied, poking his cheek.

Kevin didn‘t have the energy to answer. It was a long day. Sleep could have him for the day. Death’s little sister might claim him for the night.

This night he dreamed about Aaron. Strong arms around his waist. Golden eyes locking with smaragd ones. They were on some lonely beach, kissing lazily while the water kissed their feet. It was a beautiful day. Not as beautiful as Aaron, but then again nothing would ever be as beautiful as this specific piece of art. Everything was alright. Everything was good. Why couldn‘t it be the real Aaron and the real Kevin on that beach.

At about noon Kevin woke up to a drooling Jeremy on his stomach and the smell of waffles and soft French swearing in the kitchen. Softly Kevin woke Jeremy up.

„Sorry I always end up on weird angles and drooling on random guys. Jean used to get so mad when I fell asleep in his lap. But you can‘t take him serious when he looks with you with heart eyes trying to be Mad, can you? Anyways we should probably go to him and help him? Oh wait hold on a hot second there. I‘m banned from the kitche, so we can sleep? Right? Right?“

„I hate to break this to you Jer, but it‘s noon. So, no we cannot sleep. You can choose my clothes, though. I know you love going through my stuff and playing dress the doll, Kevin Day edition“, Kevin almost smiled at Jeremy, when he looked up at him pouting.

Then he remembered another blonde boy, pouting at him when he told him no. Another constellation of freckles around another, straight, perfect nose. Sinful lips softly turned up, trying to look mad. Hazel eyes instead of ocean blue ones. Messy blonde curles, instead of soft badly dyed ginger ones. Strong arms instead of lean ones covered in flower tattoos. God, Kevin missed his Aaron.

No, not his. Not anymore

„Okay, but you have to wear to fab outfit I‘ll throw in your face“, Jeremy gave him another easy, toothy grin.

Slowly the other boy got out of bed and went over to the cabet. Slowly Jer went through Kevin‘s cloths. After a while he slowly turned around, holding a jersey that is obviously by far too small for Kevin in front of his face. „What is that? Why do you still have his jersey? Babe, you gotta get rid of that, rather sooner than later“

Jeremy had the weird habit of calling his friends babe, baby, dude or bro. Before Jean he called his boyfriends bro or dude as well, but Jean was so confused by it he quickly stopped doing it.

„First of all: I‘m a weak ass bitch, it smelled of it. And secondly maybe I wanna stab it once I‘m over the phase where I‘m like madly missing him?. I‘d just put it into a pillow, stab at it like a maniac and then set it on fire. I didn‘t grow up with a psychopath as my supposed best friend for nothing Jer“

„Okay? Well I got your clothes. And you‘ll look amazing, cause it‘s the FOX ONSIE I GOT YOU!!! I‘ll wear my onsie as well, and I‘ll force Jean to wear his one as well!! Much fun!! Much wholesome!!“

So that‘s how Kevin Day, queen of Exy, landed sandwiched between his childhood crush and long life crush on their couch, watching Downton Abbey with a plate of waffles on his lap. This was nice. He might had actually enjoyed it, if this wasn‘t his and Aaron‘s show. They used to watch it, cry over it together, make out while watching it.

Thank God didn‘t actually touch him while watching Downton Abbey, he was good at daydreaming. Kevin would just had preteneded that it was Aaron and he thought him breathing Aaron‘s name was the last thing any of them needed today.

After their Downton Abbey marathon they ordered pizza, against Kevin‘s better judgement. Another traditon Kevin shared with Aaron. At finals Aaron would often forget to eat and Kevin was too big of a mess to be bothered to cook so he would end up ordering something every single day and feeding it Aaron while he studied on the floor. Occasionally he would earn a soft kiss, growing hungrier when the night grew darker. God Kevin missed the soft lips on his own.

Kevin would have enjoyed the beach, wouldn‘t he be dressed in a fox onsie, holding hands with a 6“5 guy who looked like he both could and would kill you in a unicorn onsie holding two tiny dogs in his other hand and with a 5“4 dude in a matching unicorn onsie with two dogs that were almost bigger than him.

At least this didn‘t remind him on Aaron.

Well, actually. The way the ocean softly kissed the sand, reminded him of his dream. And of the endless trips to the beach, sleeping in the car, Aaron on top of him. Lazy kisses and warm hugs. It was the first place Aaron took Kevin after their rehab. It was the first night they spent together, as sober men. Well, not sober per se. But drunk and high on each others love. It might had been the most painful memory of the day. God he missed those strong arms around his waist.

Nontheless the pain got less, he felt almost numb. Kevin liked feeling numb. Nothing hurt when you feel numb.

The sunset was beautiful. It reminded him of golden hairs, freckles standing against golden skin, soft lips at his ears, his neck, the corner of his lips.

„Aaron you‘re supposed to look at the sunset, you shithead“, Kevin used to smile down at him. „But I‘m already looking at the most beautfiul thing this world has to offer“, Aaron replied smoothly, locking eyes with Kevin.

When the moon took the place of his long lost lover they decided to go back.

It was safe to say that no one dared to think that someone would wait for them there. Especially not the one person they tried to avoid by all means the entire day.

„You said to stop calling. Never mentioned face to face conversations“, a husky voice said. And Kevin‘s world stopped.

#all for the game #the foxhole court #the raven king #the king’s men #kevin day #aaron minyard #kevaaron #ship: kevaaron

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melancholicillusions · 3 years

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"No one ever truly gets over the loss of a loved one..."

*next morning*

You had woken up earlier than expected but you decided to head out and quickly get some food for the two of them and yourself.

"Hi, um can I get three breakfast sandwiches.. with one banana milk and two coffees?" You asked.

"Yes you can! Will that be all?" The kind woman asked cheerfully.

You couldn't help but smile, "Yes, ma'am it will, thanks!" You responded as she told you your total and told you to pull up to the next window.

"Here you go! Have a good day!" She said, smiling as she handed you your card and receipt first, then your drinks and food

"No, you have an amazing week!" She chuckled pulling off as she laughed back.

____________

-Jeonghans P.O.V.-

Slowly but surely I started to stir in my sleep especially when Haru started to kick and push in her sleep, groaning I swung my feet off the edge of y/n's guest bed. Not really sure of what to do next, before ultimately but also reluctantly making the decision to look for y/n.

Trying my best not to wake Haru, I cover her back up kissing her cheek.

"I'll be back honey.." I whisper as I quietly shut the door.

"Um, y/n...?" I whisper yelled, poking my head around the corner into the dimly lit living room. Nothing..

I made my way into the kitchen.. nothing. The bathroom door was open but dark, nothing..

I walked back down the dim hallway and to her room, in which the door was closed. I gently tapped it and got no response.

'She must have left... I'll just leave her a note.' Jeonghan thought to himself, quickly walking back into the kitchen and grabbing a classic yellow sticky note.

'Dear y/n, thank you for letting Haru and I stay the night it was greatly appreciated. - Jeonghan.'

____________

"Haru.. Haru..! Wake up honey.." I wispered to her. She flung her arm at me unconsciously, I barely managed to dodge it. I gently pinched her rosey cheek. A small smile playing on my lips, calling back to the first time I did that to her, while she was wrapped in a pink cloth.

'she was so small then..' I thought to myself, feeling something run down the side of my face.

"Mm... daddy...?" Haru blinked, looking at me. "...daddy why are you crying?" She asked worry on her pale face.

I was shocked, I hadn't realized..

"O-oh.. sweetheart.. no daddies fine, he was just thinking about mommy... But right now we have to go.. okay?" I said wiping my face quickly.

She sat up her raven black hair frizzled almost mimicking a birds nest. However this cute site didnt change the expression that was of worry and sadness carved into her soft features.

"But daddy, it's cold outside and it warm in here... can we stay just a little longer? Pleaseeee.." Haru begged clasping her tiny hands together, looking up at him.

Jeonghan gave a forced smile. "I know honey.. but daddy will figure it out.." he said.

'Eventually...' he thought.

"But for now y/n isnt here, let's go get dressed and leave, we dont wanna be a bother to y/n anymore than we have.."

He muttered before picking his daughter up, and grabbing her clothes,

"Y/n said we're a bother?" Haru said hurt on her face.

"N-no sweetheart.. you're a bit too young to understand..." he trailed off, "Here, go get dressed with the basics.. I'll help you with your socks and shoes.."

"Okay daddy!" She said happily running off into the bedroom bathroom. But not before asking for help for the bathroom light which her father gladly helped with.

•20 minutes later•

"Okay, Haru. Do you have everything?"

"Hmmm, I got my bows, and my pretty pink shoes... and I got my daddy too!" She giggled and Jeonghan picked her up smiling.

________________

"Okay.." I sighed, "..home sweet home.."

I hurried into the building and up the stairs. Once I made my way to my floor, I sat my stuff down on the floor holding the food in one arm while my keys were in the other. Regardless I was shock when the door knob started to turn and the door swung open, I was met face to face with Jeonghan and Haru in his arms, his eyes met mine and were wide and filled with shock.

"A-ah!" He said in a startled manner, stepping back. "Haru and I were just about to leave.. thank you for giving us a place to stay for the night..." he blushed.

"O-oh, well... I was hoping you two would stay.. even if it's just for breakfast... I-I mean I did buy a sandwich and a drink for each of us.." I said looking down.

"Food! Daddy can we stay?! Please even if it's just for breakfast!" Haru beamed.

Jeonghan seemed a bit taken aback, "um, I'm pretty sure y/n has things to do.. we dont wanna interrupt her life.."

Y/n wasnt sure if she should be offended or saddened by the way he felt.

"No! You're not a bother... I'm off today anyways... and it gets lonely around here... stay all long as you need.. besides, the foods getting coldz I'm getting cold, and its supposed to be another storm to night.. they're expecting at least 12 inches of snow.." y/n consoled.

Jeonghan sighed stepping to the side, "if you say so..." he says defeated but relieved as well.

"So we can stay?!" Haru professed.

Y/n looked down at her "Yes my dear.." she smiled. Walking into her home. Jeonghan caught himself staring at her in a romantic way...

"Um, Jeonghan could you close the door? Heat isnt free you know.." she joked.

"O-oh right of course.." he blushed.

Haru jumped out of his arms and ran to the table where y/n placed the food down.

_____________

"Wheres Haru?" You asked.

Jeonghan looked up from his hands. "I put her to sleep.. she was getting whiny so it was nap time.."

"Oh.." was all you could say, but you couldn't help but notice he seemed upset about something.

"Jeonghan, are you okay? You seem.. stressed..."

He let out a deep chuckle. "... because I am... I'm a homeless single father who cant find a job for shit. And a daughterwho looks up at me even in my worst of moments.."

You pursed your lips. "Well I can help you look for one, and in the mean time you and Haru take your time.. okay? And shes you daughter shes gonna do that..."

"Y/n-" he started.

You stopped him, "Jeonghan. Dont. Even. I get wanting to do thing by yourself.. but its January and it's not just you who's at stake here.. So I'm not allowing you to decline my offer."

Jeonghan was taken back by her sudden sternness, he couldn't help but smile as he made the unconscious decision to push aside her coiled locks and lean in closer to her before their lips gently collided with each others.

________________

-3 months later-

Y/n was sitting at the table helping Haru with her homework when a thrilled, but sweating Jeonghan burst through the door.

"I not even a knock or a 'hi'?" Y/n exclaimed in a semi-joking manner.

"Daddy!" Haru beamed running to his side where he picked her up spinning her around.

Out of breath he exclaimed, "I got it!"

Y/n arched her brows. "You got wha- Oh my god! Jeonghan that's amazing honestly!"

"Yes, I got the job!" He beamed holding y/n at his chest.

She smiled kissing Haru on the cheek, and him on his soft pink lips.

"I'm gonna save up for our wedding y/n! I love you so much!" He said.

Haru harshly interrupted, "What about me! And mommy...?"

Jeonghan sighed.. "haru.. I will always love your mother... much like how y/n will always love her husband.. but they've both gone to a better place, and one day we will join them.. but right now, I'm sure they would both want you, me, and y/n to be happy... I hope you can understand that, and not resent y/n for it." He said.

"Nows probably not the best time.. but you never truly get over the loss of a loved one.." you wispered.

Jeonghan kissed your forehead and kissed Harus cheek as well.

A/n: ahhh this took forever I'm so sleepyyyyy but it's done! My thumb hurts! Yall better enjoy this!!! Lmao.

But no really i put so much energy and effort into this, so please dont expect an up date for at least a few months! Thanks for understanding! Platonically Para-socially love you guys! Enjoy! Bye! 💕

#ambw imagines #seventeen ambw #seventeen kpop #ambw scenarios #s.coups #seungkwan #svt hoshi #ambw fic #yoon jeonghan #svt jun #jihoon #jeonghan #seventeen #svt scenarios #svt dk #svt dino #svt vernon #svt imagines

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epicfangirl01 · 3 years

Text

Magic Malady- Sick!Demon Brothers

Hey, guys! I wanted to give a quick shout out to @dawndustleo for being amazing and supportive in the brainstorming process of this fic. If it wasn’t for them, you would probably have a shittier version of care for Belphie, Satan, and Levi. So thank you again for your support! Also, this was supposed to be one fic, but I got carried away.... So be ready for the second half soon! Thank you guys for coming, and I hope you enjoy!

Part One

The bell rings for "Ancient Enchantments and Hexes" as you set your materials on your desk, sliding into your seat as your teacher moves to the chalkboard. On the board are the words "Alphus Depetiginis Presentation", and you gulp nervously.

You've prepared the potion a dozen times with Satan's help and supervision, but you can't help feeling anxious about ruining the potion in front of the class. The one thing that is especially nerve wracking is that all seven demon brothers are sitting at their desks, focused on the teacher, except for a texting Mammon.

"Good morning, everyone! Today we will go over your presentations for creating your skin disease potions. This spell will be harmless, as long as it isn't completely ingested. Of course, we will use the proper safety equipment in case an accident occurs. Remember, the potion is supposed to give the castee a severe case of warts, scabs, and rashes. The potion lasts about 3 days, and often leaves the castee's skin raw. You will be assessed on your accuracy, presentation, and overall effectiveness of the potion on your spell dummies. When I call your name, please come up to the front counter and put on your apron, goggles, and gloves."

You take deep breaths and review the procedure, barely noticing the first few presentations, when the teacher calls your name. You gulp and push yourself out of the chair, quickly putting on your safety equipment.

As you walk up to the counter, you notice Mammon aiming his phone at you, lowering it after a moment. He's almost definitely texting Asmo, sending him the picture of your strange outfit. You roll your eyes, smirking at his behavior. Typical Mammon.

You clear your throat and smile, before grabbing the necessary equipment. "Alright. First, you take 8 wings from a vampire bat, and make cuts at these points to remove the bones. You snap the bones in half and grind them down to a powder, adding two houndstooth thorns in the process. Once the powder is made, you heat a beaker of Bermuda seawater to 300 Kelvin, adding one drop of Reaper blood to the beaker. Next, you scrape the bone and thorn powder into the mixture. The liquid boils for a minute until..." As if on command, the red-tinted water turns a bright cyan, and a bright grin crosses your face as the potion is made perfectly. "There! Once it turns cyan, remove the beaker from the heat. After 24 hours, the potion is ready to be used."

Satan smiles proudly as your hard work pays off, and Lucifer smirks slightly as he claps. Your cheeks turn pink at the praise, and you take off the safety equipment.

"Wonderful presentation, Y/N. Now, it's Beelzebub's turn. Please eat your sandwich before you come forward, or you might eat the ingredients. I don't want to die or get fired," the teacher half joked. The teacher shudders slightly, remembering the tantrum the sixth born had when denied permission to eat in class.

The room laughs, and Beel chuckles as he gulps his sandwich whole. Satisfied, he walks up to the counter for his demonstration.

You watch patiently from your seat, when you notice Mammon whispering to Mephistopheles. Everyone claps as Beel completes his demonstration, and the teacher clears their throat.

"Thank you for volunteering, Mammon! You usually aren't one to talk so passionately about elixirs and hexes. Why don't you show the class how it's done?" They smirk as Mammon turns pale, before the demon of greed nods.

"Y-yeah! Let the Great Mammon show you what real magic looks like." Mammon grins and winks at you confidently, before standing up. He slips some safety goggles out of his backpack, and heads up to the counter for his apron and gloves.

You look curiously at the other brothers, wondering if they sense something off with the Avatar of Greed. He seems a bit too relaxed for presenting in his worst class, and you can tell Lucifer is wary as well. You turn your attention back to Mammon, when your eyes land on his goggles. They're different from his usual pair, but you can't quite put your finger on it.

"Alright! So ya take some crow wings, and... cut out the bones to snap them in half. Then ya take the bones and mix it into a powder with, er..... bloodthorns! Yeah, two bloodthorns."

Satan huffs in annoyance at Mammon's lack of studying, and Lucifer scowls at his poor execution. Sadistic amusement shines in his eyes, likely planning Mammon’s punishment for after class.

"Then in the glass, you boil holy water and add a bottle of Reaper's blood." The teacher's eyes widen, while Lucifer and Satan jump to their feet.

"MAMMON, DON'T!!! " they shout in unison, overcome with panic.

The second born looks up in confusion and fear, quickly pulling his hand back, but it's too late. Immediately, a plume of black and purple smoke explodes into the classroom, creating a thick fog. Demons cough and hack as the foreign gas fills their lungs, while you and the angels look on in alarm. You dash to the windows, pushing them open to dispel the gas.

"Mammon! What did you d- ughhhh..." Belphie groans, his face pale as he clings to a table.

"You idiot! You just mixed Reaper Blood and Holy Water! That stuff makes demons sick!" Levi hisses through coughs, feeling his stomach roll.

Oh no.

"Alright, everyone-" the teacher announces, stopping to keep from puking. "Presentations are suspended for a week. Go home and get some rest. Luckily, the illness from the gas isn't contagious. The, ughhh... side effects should disappear within a few days."

The angels guide the sick demons back to their dorms, recruiting help from students across the hall. You turn to look at the seven brothers, who are all in bad shape, aside from Lucifer.

"Mammon," he hisses,, "I'll be taking away your DDD and credit card for this, and that is just the beginning. Y/N, stay here with the others. I will fetch Lord Diavolo for assistance." You nod, stunned, and the prideful demon walks into the hall alone.

As the eldest brother goes to find backup, you help the demon brothers back into their seats.

"Alright. Stay calm and take deep breaths, okay? Barbatos should be here soon to portal us back to the house." You quickly inspect the brothers, recording a list of their symptoms as the Fantastic Three rush inside. "I'm glad you're here. We have to get them home. I can watch over everyone and make sure they're alright. Let me check Mammon's symptoms really quick, and then I can get yours, Lucifer."

The raven haired demon shakes his head, nodding toward the others. "I am fine. Thank you for your concern, Y/N, but you should focus your aid on my brothers. Some of them can be quite clingy when they're sick."

You nod, turning to the demon of greed. "How are you feeling, Mammon?" Your hand brushes his hair aside to take off his goggles, heat radiating off of his forehead.

"Hey! I-I'm not done with those..." he retorted weakly. Curiosity replaces your worry, and a gasp slips from your lips as you examine the goggles further.

"Mammon! These goggles have inscriptions on them. You were cheating on your presentation!"

Lucifer's eyes darken, and he steps toward Mammon menacingly, his purple aura rising from his skin.

Mammon whimpers, and you step between the two, placing your hands on Lucifer's chest. "Lucifer, I know you're mad, and you have the right to be, but he is suffering from a self-inflicted punishment. He was closest to the beaker, so he will get the worst effects out of everyone. You can punish him again in a few days, when he's better, okay? Then it will be more satisfying for you to enjoy," you explain, appealing to his sadistic side in an effort to deescalate the situation.

"You did WHAT?!? "

The eldest lord sighs, pushing his hair back, and nods. "Very well. Just don't care for him too much. He acts like a baby when he's ill."

With that, Diavolo walks up to Mammon and lifts him by the collar, his chuckle eerily happy. The prince tightly wraps his arms around Mammon's body, and Diavolo beams as he gulps in worry.

"Well, Mammon! It seems like the two of us are going to have a wonderful conversation. Barbatos, can you open the door to the study, please?"

The butler's eyes sparkle with interest, and he bows obediently. "Of course, my prince." Barbatos opens the door, instantly creating a portal to the study. The two demons head inside, before the portal changes to reveal the upstairs hallway.

You walk over to Asmo and Belphie, helping them to their feet. Lucifer follows your lead, grabbing hold of Beel and Levi, while Barbatos helps Satan.

You step through the portal, and the 6 of you arrive in the House of Lamentation. Lucifer guides you to the twins' room, placing Belphie and Beel on their respective beds. Once they are settled, you take Asmo to his room.

Asmo's face is paler than you have ever seen, and dread forms in the pit of your stomach. "Are you okay, Asmo?" The Avatar of Lust looks up at you and shrieks, stopping you in your tracks. You follow his gaze, realizing that he saw his reflection in the mirror.

"I'm hideous!" The demon falls out of your grasp, settling onto the chair at his vanity as he frantically grabs some foundation. "This one! Yes, a-and eyeliner. Mascara, some lip gloss... Eek! My hands! Y/N, moisturizer! Stat!"

You grab the bottle of moisturizer from the nightstand, and you place a hand on his shoulder.

"Asmo, stop. It's going to be alright. Just relax, an-"

"I can't! I have to look perfect!" Asmodeus quickly applies some makeup, but his hands tremble as the foundation drips and smears down his face. Sweat falls from his pores, sticking to his skin. You gently touch his forehead and gasp.

"Asmo, you're burning up! Here. Let me help." You grab a makeup wipe, moving to clean his face when he grabs your wrist.

"No! I-I'm always supposed to be beautiful. If I'm not..." the demon looks away, tears stinging his eyes. You cup his cheek, turning his face to meet his gaze.

"You're beautiful the way you are, Asmodeus. And even though you're sick, you still look ready for a photoshoot." He sniffles, nodding weakly, so you take the chance to wipe his face clean. Once his face is bare, you gently hold his shoulders, turning him to look in the mirror. "See? There's the Devildom's Jewel. Everything is going to be okay. For now, let's put you to bed."

You help Asmo to his regal-style bed, and you gather his magazines and DDD. You click a TV app on his phone, before you find a human world show called "Project Runway". Asmodeus sighs and squeezes your hand.

"Thanks, Y/N." You smile and nod, turning on the show before heading to the door. "Oh, honey, those shoes look tacky with that skirt." You laugh, glad that Asmo is feeling better, and you head to the study to meet with Lucifer and Diavolo.

You knock on the study door, and you nearly collide Mammon, who sniffles miserably. Snot runs down his face, and he looks away from you.

"Mammon?" You're about to help him to his room, when Lucifer glares at you, shaking his head. Your heart breaks a bit, wanting to help your first man, but you know you can't mess with Lucifer. "I'll see you soon to check on you, okay?" Mammon doesn't say anything, and he walks past you instead, sneezing and shuffling to his room. You turn back to the two demons, closing the door behind you.

"Y/N, is everyone in bed?" Diavolo asks, and you nod. "Good. We need to make a plan before things get out of hand."

Lucifer clears his throat, gaining your attention. "We need to conduct some research to determine the severity of the illness. All illnesses that are exclusive to demons consist of Reaper Blood and Holy Water, but this combination has not been made in all of our years in the Devildom. It's important that we find the resources we can, and see if there is a cure. The instructor believes the symptoms will only last a few days, but we need to make sure this concoction isn't permanent. I will assist Lord Diavolo with this task. You are to stay here and tend to my brothers." You nod obediently, but Diavolo shakes his head in concern.

"Barbatos and I can worry about that. You were also exposed to the potion, Lucifer. You should be resting as well." Lucifer stands up straighter, and looks into the prince's eyes, unreadable yet firm.

"I am fine, my lord. I will report to you should my condition worsen. Until then, I insist that you need my service." You frown as you meet Diavolo's gaze, uncertain. The red haired demon sighs, yielding.

"Very well, but I am depending on you to report any symptoms. Should some develop, you are to immediately drop your tasks and return home. Do I make myself clear?"

Diavolo's eyes darken with authority, the golden flecks of his eyes shining bright. For a moment, you thought you saw Lucifer's eyes dilate in surprise, but the expression is gone in an instant.

"Yes, my lord," he says obediently, bowing respectfully to his prince. The room is silent for a moment, before Diavolo turns to you.

"Let's get to work. Y/N, take care of the brothers and watch their symptoms."

You nod, and Lucifer reminds you to let Mammon take care of himself until dinner. Your heart pangs at the unfair treatment, but you don't want to irritate Lucifer further. You take your leave and head into the hall, when you find Belphegor laying at the foot of the attic stairs, clinging to the doorframe.

"Belphie! What are you doing out of bed?" You dash down the hall to help the youngest brother up, draping one of his arms around your shoulders. Belphie clings to his pillow and blanket, groaning as he grabs the railing.

“Ugh... Too loud. Beel’s stomach won’t stop growling. Just the thought of him puking keeps me up at night.” You guide Belphie up to the attic, rubbing his side gently. You never understood how Belphie could go back to his former prison, but you suppose it is the most private room in the house.

“Okay. If you ever need anything, just call me. You can get hurt if you do things by yourself. You could have tripped down the stairs if I didn’t find you here.” Belphie rolls his eyes, refusing to reply. Always so stubborn. You get to the bedroom, and you pull the covers over to help the demon lay down. Once Belphie is settled, you sit beside him and drape his blanket over his shivering form. You gently check his forehead with the back of your hand, feeling a small fever lick at his skin. You sigh, and seventh born curls around you, resting his head on your lap.

“Hey, Y/N? I can’t sleep, and when I do, I have nightmares about Lilith or Beel. Sometimes they’re even about you... Can you stay with me until I fall asleep?” Your chest tightens as you look down at the Avatar of Sloth, and you nod.

“Of course, Belphegor.” He chuckles a bit, enjoying the way you say his name, before closing his eyes. Belphie breathes deeply as he focuses on your warmth, sighing as your fingers comb through his hair.

“Mmm. I could stay here forever,” he mumbles, cuddling his pillow. The youngest brother coughs suddenly, covering his mouth and relaxing again. You gently rub Belphie’s back with your free hand, and a gentle hum flows through through the air as you sing a lullaby. The demon sighs in relief, lulled into a gentle sleep. You watch over him for a few minutes, glad he is finally resting, until you feel Belphie nuzzle into your lap. His snoring briefly hitches for a moment, interrupted by drowsy mumbles.

“Y/N.... is my nurse... Back off, Mammon...” A chuckle fills the air as you watch the sleeping demon, remembering the night the twins fought over you in their sleep.

“Sweet dreams, Belphegor.” You gently slide out from under him, placing a pillow under his head. You stand up, lifting the covers and gently tucking him in. When you are finished, you gently close the bedroom door, making your way downstairs.

You pull out your DDD to check the time, reading about 11 AM. “I should probably make some soup for everyone. Beel is bound to be hungry soon.”

You make your way down to the fridge, gathering some ingredients from the human world shelf. It has been a while since the last Human Cuisine Night, so the brothers would be grateful to have your homemade comfort food. For a moment, you consider what to make, before deciding on vegetable soup. The nutrients should help the demons recover quickly, while the warm flavors work to soothe their restlessness. You begin to chop carrots, onions, celery, and other vegetables, while you prepare the broth. Once everything is ready, you pour the vegetables and seasonings into the broth. With the pots covered, you set a timer on your DDD and head back upstairs.

As you reach the landing, moans drift down the hallway, coming from Levi's room. You walk up to the door, knocking gently, and speak to the otaku through the door.

"Leviathan? Are you okay?" The third born groans, and immediately gives you permission to enter the room. Your stomach drops, knowing he must be miserable to drop his passcode, and you take a deep breath as you open the door.

You step inside, finding the third born laying on a beanbag, surrounded by Ruri-chan blankets and plushies, looking like a sad burrito.

"Aww. Levi, you look miserable. Is there anything I can do to help?" You kneel next to him, pushing his hoodie back to take his temperature. His skin burns against yours, and Levi laughs to himself.

"Pathetic, huh? A shut in like me laying in my room, surrounded by nerdy anime blankets. The mighty third born, Admiral of the Hell's Navy, sitting alone in his room and cuddling a body pillow while maintaining a fever. Go figure. The one time I go to class, actually pay attention, and study hard, I get caught up in Mammon's stupid stunts. And what's worse is that Mammon has you to take care of him. Screw that scumbag! He can suffer from his mistake. You shouldn't have to take care of his dumb ass..." Levi vents, and you gently stroke his hair.

"I know you're upset, Levi. You have the right to be, but Mammon deserves help too. I bet he's suffering right now. Besides, Lucifer told me not to help him until dinner. I haven't even seen half of your brothers yet. Right now, all I'm worried about is taking care of you."

Leviathan blushes a bit, sniffling.

"Hey, Y/N? Can you stay with me for a while? Maybe we could watch 'Nightmare Princess: The Legend of the Blood-Bound Dragons' and..." You smile at the lovable nerd, encouraging him to continue. "...Maybe you could hold my hand and rub my back? No! Never mind. That's dumb. You have better things to do..."

You shake your head, taking Levi's hand in your own. "That sounds great. First, let me tuck you into bed, okay?" You gently help Levi over to the tub, and you put some pillows and blankets around his unique bed. Once the demon of envy is comfortable, you turn the lights out and grab his laptop, turning on the anime he suggested. You hand him the computer and slide in next to him, moving close to watch the first episode.

His heart pounds as you take his hand, bewildered how a normie like you would want to spend time with a shy otaku. As promised, you gently massage Levi's shoulders and back. He sighs in relief, though he remains tense from your gentle touch, and you stifle a giggle.

"So, this is the Celestial Realm edition that was written and directed by the great Christopher Peugeot. The original series was very good, but this one was REVOLUTIONARY compared to more modern anime series. The twists to the same characters and plot were unexpected, and at first I was worried about the changes, but like always, Christopher Peugeot blew the series out of the water! He's absolutely incredible! Oh! Right, the synopsis. This series is about Zinovia, the princess of the Underworld, who goes undercover in the dream world to find the 7 blood-bound dragons and save the souls of the damned from complete destruction by the cruel dream gods." Levi explains the plot thoroughly as the show begins, and you can't help but get lost quickly.

"Okay, then wh-" The demon shushes you excitedly, telling you to watch, and you chuckle to yourself. "Okay."

The two of you manage to watch one full episode, when the soup timer on your DDD rings. "I'll be right back, Levi. I'm going to get everyone some soup and water before checking on the others. The otaku frowns, and nods.

"O-okay, but... Can you check on me again soon? For a normie, you actually make me feel better...." You smile and nod, touched by his words, before closing the door behind you.

You make your way back to the staircase again, when Barbatos walks out of the study, turning to you and bowing politely.

"There you are, Y/N. Lord Diavolo has requested your presence. Lucifer is with him as well." You slip your DDD into your pocket and nod.

"Thank you, Barbatos. Do you mind if I ask for a favor? I made vegetable soup for everyone, and I need to get bowls, cups, and silverware. Do you mind bringing those to the common room? I can serve everyone and take care of the rest from there. I made enough for you and Lord Diavolo, too."

The butler chuckles, and nods. "Of course. I shall return shortly." You thank Barbatos before knocking, heading inside when instructed.

You turn to face the demon prince, and you freeze as your gaze meets his. Diavolo's hopeful eyes are now dimmed by his grim frown, and your heart skips a beat.

"What's going on?" you ask, worried by the dark expression on Diavolo’s face.

"I'm afraid things are worse than we could have imagined. The other students are having severe fevers, and are slowly developing growths. Their condition is worsening by the minute."

Your eyes widen, and you brush your hair back, trying to think.

"Okay. We can deal with this. We just have to find some doctors to give them medicine. Then hopefully the symptoms will disappear in a couple days."

Lucifer shakes his head, squeezing his hand against the back of his chair, standing tall beside Diavolo.

"I'm afraid it's more grave than that..." the eldest brother mumbles, the stress and worry clouding his red and black eyes.

"Lucifer.... What's going on?" The demon lord refuses to look at you, and anxiety twists your stomach into a knot. "Please, tell me!"

Lucifer sighs, his breath shaky, and when he finally looks up at you, faint tears sting the corners of his eyes.

"It's the Black Plague."

Part Two (Coming Soon!)

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utterlyinevitable · 4 years

Note

can do an ethan x mc request for Gimme those eyes, it's easy to forgive - hopeless halsey

this song is so underrated. thank you so much for requesting!!!

Hopeless

Word Count: 2.3k Warning: angst, few curse words, adult themes Summary: This takes place around Chapter 1 in OHSY after Ethan comes back from the stupid Amazon. There’s mentions of MC x Raf and Ethan x Harper.

A/N: The end bits were supposed to be smut but everything I wrote was so damn cringe 😔 . Someone teach me how to write smut pls and thanks.

________________________________________

Ethan Ramsey was in the cafeteria speaking with Harper, the two attendings grabbing a hot meal for a late-night dinner. They spoke like two old friends, happily and without complications.

Becca watched from her position at the condiment station as he intimately placed his hand on Harper’s lower back and offered to pay for her food. It was a small gesture, but to Becca it was everything. Becca would never have the privilege of these simple moments with him ever again. He made that as clear as a summer’s day during her first shift as a diagnostics fellow a couple mornings ago after his miraculous return from the Amazon by telling her “there is no us”.

The distance. The complications; everything he rattled off as reasons to stop, meant nothing to her. Every time he pushes her away she keeps crawling back like a moth to a flame, never really learning her lesson all the same. Why can’t she stay away from him?

How can he go about his life - doesn’t he feel anything anymore?

To be just colleagues - strictly professional as he put it - how could anything between them be that simple ever again? They’ve seen each other naked. They’ve carried and soothed the burden of the others’ vulnerabilities. Ethan and Rebecca were never simply colleagues. From the moment Ethan Ramsey let himself sign her textbook that first day of intern year they were doomed to be something more.

Her feet stuck to the floor and her eyes transfixed on Harper, Becca couldn’t understand whether she was jealous that she could have him in every way while Becca could never. Or if it was due to the unencumbered attention he could dote on her. Possibly it was a bit of both.

During their time together, Ethan made it unambiguous to Becca that the last two years of the notable attendings’ friendship Harper was his boss and that meant they couldn’t continue their on-off relationship. It’s the same rationale he was using with Becca now, except she and he never actually were together just a few fleeting moments here and there. Aside from those little tidbits of information he never talked about his past with the surgeon. For all Becca knew, now that they were both heads of departments and on the same professional level, they could continue whatever it was they were previously doing. Ethan could easily fall back into the familiar convenience of being with Harper Emery.

He makes staying apart look too easy.

He’s still functioning. He can be in the same room as Becca without his skin crawling. He can continue on with his life as if their intimacy and sleepless nights together had never happened. He makes moving on and being simply colleagues look painlessly uncomplicated.

“Bec, you there?” a muffled voice spoke into her ear.

She was on the phone. In her gripping trance she didn’t realize they were still speaking. Becca came downstairs to grab a sandwich and catch a nap in the on-call room before her date with Rafael in two hours. That’s when she caught the attendings cozily waiting next to one another.

Shaking her head to bring her back from her trance she shakily breathed, “Yeah, can I call you back in 5?”

“Yea sure. Just wanted to let you know I can’t hang out tonight.”

In under five minutes her heart seemed to break twice. “Oh, okay.”

“I’m on call,” there was a trained reassurance in his voice that was meant to soothe her. It didn’t work, but she wouldn’t let him know that. Becca needed his distraction more than ever now, alas work got in the way.

Work always gets in the way.

“That’s okay, Raf. Talk later.”

Being with Rafael Aveiro should have been easy. He was sweet and caring and knew just how to put a smile on her face. He had a supporting family and knew the secrets of this city that only long term locals would know. His embrace was warm and comforting, his kiss was a breath of fresh air. He was the type of boy she should be in love with.

Becca shoved her phone deep into her scrub pocket and removed herself from the sticky position. She scoured the facility floor for an empty room to call hers for the next few hours. If she couldn’t see Raf she might as well distract herself with more cases.

In the abandoned on-call room she felt alone inside, so profoundly alone. She hadn’t felt this low since the day she learned He was leaving. If her current affair can’t comfort her at her every beck and call, what’s she supposed to do now?

Laying on her back and staring up at the metal supports of the empty bunk above, Becca angrily bit into her cucumber sandwich. She replayed the entire cafeteria spectacle over and over again, dissecting every subtle movement she managed to capture.

He’s known Harper forever. They have more in common…

The look of Ethan’s content stature and the way his shoulders rounded as he stood with Harper eats away at her. Sadness moved straight to maddened annoyance. All Becca has wanted to do since she learned of his leaving is punch him. Yell at him. Hold him closer than physically possible and beg him not to leave her again.

Why am I doing this to myself?

She knows why and it hurts like hell.

The truth is she can’t stop thinking about him. She can’t find a moment of peace in this whole damn hospital without thinking of him. Ethan is Edenbrook. And when she closes her eyes at night it’s his baby blues that haunt her - that same passionately ravenous stare the man had all those nights ago that made her feel like she was the only woman in the world who could satisfy him.

This secret has been killing her. The secret she’s been keeping guarded under lock and key, a secret she can’t utter out loud. Her lips and tongue can’t comprehend the weight of those words.

Becca sighed deeply into the abyss of the somber room.

She hated who she had become in just two lonesome months. She wasn’t as confident anymore - everything she has ever known has been challenged and not in the flourishing way she preferred. He made her this way. Desperate for him and hopelessly in… infatuated. Everything was Ethan’s fault. If he wasn’t him then she wouldn’t be feeling this way. If he didn’t bring her into his secret case and take a keen interest in her person as her mentor, then she could have skated through residency as the bright eyed and hopeful girl she once was.

She tightly closed her eyes and groaned as the forbidden words infiltrated her mind.

I love him still.

No. Stop it. You can’t feel this way. It’s just goddamn infatuation.

Logically her mind trailed down another path, trying so desperately to diagnose their situation.

If this godforsaken feeling won’t quit there must be something here. I can’t be the only one to feel it.

Right?

This happened so quickly and died all too soon - is it all in my head? Did I make us up?

Before she knew it the door to the on-call room banged shut behind her and she was on her way to his office. Was he still here?

Of course he was. Ethan never went home these days but she didn’t need to know that. The moment he got back to his apartment - no matter how many times he scheduled a deep cleaner while he was away - every surface reminded him of Rebecca. His bed was missing the petite indent her body left behind, the left side now cold and firmly abandoned. His couch and bar cart called him back to all the conversations they had and every bit of sweet courage they indulged in. His kitchen held all the memories of cases they solved over takeout late into the endless nights. In his master bathroom the walk-in shower brought his mind back to the last place he encouraged her to fall apart in his apartment. Lastly and most bitterly, every window overlooking the restless city mocked him of the most alluring of views he vowed to never cherish again.

Knock.

The dark wooden door to Ethan’s office was locked but she noticed the faint dull light of his lamp under the crack in the door.

He’s there. The thought shocked her slightly and she tried to backtrack. He’s probably asleep.

Knock.

She faintly knocked one last time in blind courage, not really wanting to disturb him. She’s been on the receiving side of his tirades multiple times. Her eyes widened as her mind caught up with her body. This is a futile effort - what do I expect to get from this? What am I doing?

Becca’s left foot pointed down the hall, encouraging her to flee before she caused any more strain on their already fragile relationship.

Mid-turn her right ear caught the sound of shuffling and the lock clicked open. Ethan’s groggy form peering into the fluorescent hall and down at her.

“Rookie?”

It’d been months since she last heard that name. And something flared up deep inside her.

When his bright blue eyes met hers anything and everything she planned to say vanished. All Becca could do was forgive those innocent and befuddled orbs of his. She made the mistake of looking into his eyes - One look and she fell deeper into the endless depths of Ethan Ramsey. Without thinking she forcefully pushed him past the threshold and in one swift movement captured his agape lips between hers. She hoped sleep held onto him so he wouldn’t push her away.

She was wrong. So wrong.

He was wide awake. His eyes wide and lips hungry.

Ethan’s left arm wrapped itself securely around her waist while his right reached past her to slam the door closed, dutifully locking it without letting her go for even a second.

In their small sanctuary he was pulling her closer, his free hand now tangling itself in her hair. Becca’s impatient hands ran along his partially undone dress shirt, noticeably wrinkled from his nap on the couch. She then trailed them down to his chest to the hem, savoring the feeling of the taut muscles underneath, where she noted he wasn’t wearing a belt. Ethan’s hands followed suit and pushed her pristine white coat away. He was carefully caressing her forearm before leveraging one hand on her neck and the other securely on her waist, kneading the fabric from her skirt so that his fingers can dance along the small of her back uninhibited.

He was kissing her back. And temporarily Becca felt hope. For a fraction of an hour she held onto the thought that he wanted them to be together too.

Their hands and mouths were exploring one another in a craze. They were a drug to one another and neither could imagine the symptoms of withdrawal could be this strong.

Ethan lifted her top and discarded it haphazardly, exposing her bralette - the nude and black lace complimented her skin in ways he never dreamed a piece of fabric could have such an effect. He was transfixed for a moment. Her effortless beauty was invariably captivating. Although he’s seen her like this before his astute mind never could quite capture her full essence.

Does he still think he’s better off without me? Becca thought as she watched him ogle her.

She moved closer to pepper sultry kisses along his neck. Her body was pressed flush against his, save for her groin which she purposefully kept a vengeful two centimetres away.

Ethan’s eyes rolled back at her ministrations. With heavy breaths he spoke, “What are you doing to me, Becca?”

Between kisses she muttered, “I can’t help it. You make me this way. I’m hopeless...” -ly in love with you.

“But reliably so.”

The truth is Ethan wanted her just as badly. However he knows full well she’d be better off without him. He’s selfish and rude - an unwelcoming presence to the outside world. Except for Becca - for Rebecca Lao he’d be anything she wanted.

He took her by the chin moving her back up to meet his lonely lips. Right now he didn’t want to think about the past or what awaits them on the other side of the office door. Right now he’s going to let himself - let them - be happy.

Ethan dragged her across the scratchy hospital carpet and over to the aged sofa he spent many solo nights on. Becca responded to his eagerness by straddling him and unbuttoning the rest of his shirt further, letting Ethan come into full view. The electricity that coursed through her veins when their skin touched was like nothing she had ever experienced with anyone else. It was erotic. It was vibrant. It was certainty.

It has and will always be you.

Things change overtime, whether encouraged to or not. No one knows that better than Ethan Ramsey, especially with the unprecedented presence Becca has had on his life. Maybe, just maybe if they gave it enough time they would fall back into pace. This brief moment has been the highlight of the last two months - a regretful reminder that he had thrown this all away.

They’ve spent too much time apart. And tonight he’ll take her anyway that he can. Tonight it’ll be the two of them snuggled up on the couch of his office post-rapture.

Ethan lay across the couch with Becca curled up next to him, the nude and vulnerable pair tried to regulate their breaths after ruining one another in the best possible way. Ethan pressed a lingering kiss to the clammy edge of her forehead, smiling to himself when he noticed the light brown baby hairs began to curl with their heat. He shifted to hold her just a bit tighter. Ethan never wanted to return back to their incompatible reality.

And then there was a determined knock at the door.

“Ethan? I know you’re in there,” Harper’s voice called.

________________________________________

Taglist: @ohchoices @dulceghernandez @aylamreads @binny1985 @ramseysno1rookie @interobanginyourmom @queencarb @perriewinklenerdie @rookiefromedenbrook @eramsey28 @choicesficwriterscreations @heauxplesslydevoted @schnitzelbutterfingers @purpledragonturtles @ramseyandrys @ermidc @mrsdrakewalkerblog @doilooklikeiknow @overwhelminglyaquarius @drethanramslay @edgiestwinter @rookieoh @lucy-268 @mvalentine @lilyvalentine

#open heart #open heart fanfic #choices open heart #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #requests #choices fanfic #choices oph2 #ohsy #oph #oph2 #oph ff #ff #rafael aveiro #harper emery

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 4 years

Note

"Fufufu...I see that you are truly my dearest beloved. Very well, I shall serve you to the best of my ability. May you be blessed with the bright future, as I shower you eith my love, Raven-san..." -Jade Leech

HOLY CROW, THERE’S MORE????

OKAY, I’LL PLAY YOUR GAME. LET’S DANCE, PRETTY BOY.

[This piece references the events of this post.]

The Writing Raven dies a little on the inside.

With those words, Jade plants himself--along with his lunch--in the seat across from the raven. In the clamor of the busy mess hall, no one notices the raven shrink in their seat.

“What are you doing?” they hiss through gritted teeth. “This is my alone time.”

“Oya?” He still appears angelic, even with that mask of feigned innocence “But is it not lonely to be seated by oneself during a respite period from classes?”

“I want to be alone,” they insist, stabbing a dinglehopper fork into their tray of spaghetti, “so that I may eat in peace.”

“I do come in peace,” Jade counters calmly, gesturing to his tiered lunch box. “It appears that I prepared a bit too much food for the Mostro Lounge, so I thought to share the excess with you.”

The raven narrows their eyes at the box, wondering what sorts of elaborate delicacies are hidden inside. While they are most certainly suspicious of Jade, there is no denying that the dishes he prepares are of the highest quality. Between the cafeteria’s rubbery spaghetti with bland tomato sauce and Jade’s cooking...there is no competition.

However--a raven has its pride to uphold.

“You’re a big eel. You can finish it off yourself,” they quip, winding noodles onto a fork.

“You are a small bird,” Jade points out. “You must eat well and absorb as many nutrients as you can, if you wish to grow--and if you hope to outwit me.”

“...Are you calling me short and dumb?!”

“Why, I have said nothing of the sort.” Jade’s shit-eating smirk betrays his handsome face. “You mustn’t insult yourself like that, my dear. After all, you are my precious pearl, whom I have promised myself to. And you have promised yourself to me, yes?”

“I HAVE DONE NO SUCH THING.”

“You are still wearing the promise ring.” Jade points with two fingers to the raven’s right hand, which bears the piece of jewelry in question.

“B-Because you refused to take it back...! What do you expect me to do, sell a gift?!”

“Ah,” Jade’s olive and amber eyes sparkle with sadistic delight. “So you confess that you find the ring valuable enough to avoid parting with. I am honored.”

Stop talking, the raven directs themselves. He’s going to use whatever you say against you.

They shovel a forkful of spaghetti into their mouth and chew in silence. Yup--it’s every bit as cold and slimy as they remember it to be.

Jade chuckles, sliding the cover of his lunch box off. A buttery, rich aroma churns out. “Perhaps you would care to sample some of this instead? It is a shrimp and wild mushroom risotto.”

The raven responds with only a cold stare and puffed cheeks.

“I will take that as a yes. As I have said before, I shall serve you to the best of my abilities.” Jade produces a spoon and digs it into the bed of rice in his lunch box. He smiles and holds out the spoon to them. “Say aaaah.”

Do not, do not, do NOT open your big beak.

The raven’s mouth adamantly remains shut, even when Jade prods at their lips with the spoon. Bits of rice stick to the raven’s face instead of greeting their tongue.

Jade frowns.

“Oya, oya...I did not anticipate for you to be such a messy eater, Raven-san.” He sighs melodramatically, “It appears that you have bested me. I suppose I shall enjoy this lovely risotto myself, then.”

Their shoulders relax--but only for a second.

Jade extends a hand and grabs their chin, running his gloved thumb over the bits of rice left on their face. He presses his fingers to his mouth, allowing his long, tongue to coat his lips.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

“Mmm. Delicious,’ Jade declares, staring the raven right in the eyes--mockingly so.

Their patience snaps, against their better judgement.

“I...!! I HATE YOU, UNAGI-DON!!” The raven abruptly stands up and storms out of the mess hall, abandoning their lunch--and the eel.

Jade’s eyes follow their fleeting figure. The smile never leaves his lips.

“...Uh. So...what do you think that’s all about?” Scarabia B-kun whispers to his friends at a nearby table. “Did...did they just call Leech-senpai an eel bowl?”

“It’s probably best not to get involved.” His friend shrugs. “Just eat your sandwich or somethin’.”

#Jade Leech #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #Raven x Jade Leech #Jade Leech x Raven #Jade Simping Saga #SOMETIMES I JUST WANT TO EAT MY RUBBERY NOODLES IN PEACE #MISTER LEECH PLEASE LET ME EAT WITHOUT HAVING A HEART ATTACK #notes from the writing raven #feedback for the writing raven

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simplyyeol · 4 years

Text

back then (when we used to)

—pairing; byun baekhyun x reader

—genre; fluff, college! au, childhood friends to nobodies to lovers! au lmao

—tws; swearing

—word count; 16.439 (whew)

—synopsis; when push comes to shove, and baekhyun suddenly appears in your life again taking your heart as he walked along the road beside you, you wonder if you really could have a happily ever after, with him, just like back then, when you used to.

—author’s note; hi guys! it’s me, cough, aj. you probably all forgot who i am right? well anyways! i made this after a long time of not writing since im on break. thank you all so much for the love you’ve given me so far. it means the world to me. i hope you love this one as much as my last work. thank you so much for supporting me !!11!11 (ugly cries)

“I mean, Baekhyun is cute and all, but I don’t know why you like like him that much if you haven’t even had a proper conversation with him,” Sehun explains as he takes a sip of his orange juice. “It seems kind of... farfetched, you know?” You roll your eyes as you take a bite of your sandwich. “Don’t be a drama queen.”

“I mean! Why don’t you like someone like...” he taps his chin in thought, fork stabbing through the lettuce leaves before he looks back to you, signature smirk in place. “Jongdae.”

You choke on the food.

“He’s pretty cute. And he’s really nice too. He’s even on the baseball team with Baekhyun and you guys seem to get along well. It’s a win-win situation.”

You shrug. “He’s cool, but he’s just a friend. And since when do you care about my love life?”

“Nonexistent love life,” he snarkily corrects and you stick your tongue at him.

“And you’re some best friend. Totally supporting me in my silent love affair.”

“I’m being realistic,” he defends, shrugging.

“And a horrible best friend,” you retort, grimly.

“Maybe you’re just going through this phase—” he starts.

“Okay, look,” you interject, dropping your sandwich on the table. “I have a crush on one of the star players of our college’s team. That just makes me one of the many of the girls fantasizing to be her. That’s all it is. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna throw myself at him and forget who I actually am or some stupid shit like that.” You narrow your eyes at him and pick up your sandwich. “Period.” And then you take a bite.

Sehun drops his fork in his bowl, the clatter ringing even through all the chatter in the cafe. “Wow, Y/N.”

“What?” you bark, bread in mouth, so it sounds more like ‘mwa.’ Even if Sehun is monotone in basically everything that comes out of his stupid mouth, you can hear the smirk.

He shakes his head. “Nevermind. But... since we’re already on this road. You know Park Chanyeol.”

You nod and swallow. “Yeah. Why?”

“Well, he gave me two tickets to his game since Mina and I were gonna go, but you know...” he trailed off and you look at him. He just broke up again with Mina. His now ex. They have an on and off relationship. You don’t really get it.

“I dunno,” you say, eyes flitting from the table to his face. You didn’t want him to go alone, sure, but more often than not, when he takes you to these kind of things, he usually gets sidetracked and well, forgets about you.

“Oh, come on, I won’t leave you this time, I swear,” he says, fist slamming the table.

“Sehun,” you breathe, talking to him as if he was a child. “You said that last time for that basketball guy’s party. And do you remember what happened then?”

His eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. Apparently your best friend has horrible memory as well.

“You went home with Mina, asshole,” you spit. “And yes, you are my bestfriend and deserve the best romantic life, but you can’t just leave me. Jeez, you’re heartless, Sehun.”

“I won’t leave you this time,” he pleads once more, puppy eyes now in place, hands placed together under his chin. “Please, noona?”

You stick your tongue out at him and continue with your sandwich.

“Oh, come on, I want to go with my bestest friend in the world, and not anyone else. And we’ll have so much fun and I won’t even leave your side, or anything, and as a bonus! I will personally get you a jersey as an added bonus with a certain Byun printed on the back.”

Your eyes flicked to his for a split second at the sound of a certain man’s name.

“I can even arrange a chance at the after party for the two of us, so you can have some even more fun. There’s gonna be free drinks too!” he tries.

You raise an eyebrow at this offer.

“Free food, too!” he chimes.

“We’ll see,” is your final answer.

His straight posture is slumped at your answer, pout adorning his face as he dejectedly looked at his salad that was a part of his so-called, healthy diet, that he put together himself. His eyes flicked to yours as you took another bite of your BLT.

You waved it at him. “Want some?”

He looks back to his salad before dropping his fork and stretching his hand out. You hand the sandwich to him and he takes a few bites before giving it back to you.

The rest of lunch is spent in light banter, talk about classes and upcoming finals.

The two of you have been close since the start of college after there was a mix up in the dorm distribution and you ended up in the only co-ed dorm in college. With a playboy of course. You would think you’d somehow fall in love with him, but the boy being two years your dongsaeng, the spark was never there. He became a little brother figure who you could bully whenever he came over to you to gush about his new girlfriend at how pretty she is. It’s cute enough to pinch his cheeks like you were a distant relative who claimed to used to change Sehun’s diapers. He hated it, which is exactly why you loved it.

He doesn’t bring up the game until you see Byun Baekhyun walk through the cafe doors. You being the shy person that you are, immediately duck your head and finish the rest of your sandwich in one bite, and stand up announcing your departure to Sehun.

“What? I’m not finished yet, wait another minute. We’ll go together.”

“Uh, I actually forgot I’ve got to meet a friend before class starts,” you explain, twisting and untwisting your fingers, eyes locked on Baekhyun’s figure that was currently walking towards you and Sehun’s table, which was conveniently in front of the register.

Sehun looks at you, nose scrunched then looking somewhere behind you, and then it dawned on him, your predicament. “Oh,” he breathes.

And Sehun being the asshole he is calls Byun Baekhyun over. You never wanted more for the ground to open up and swallow you whole than at this moment.

“Hey, Sehun, what’s up?” Baekhyun says, his honey voice rolling over you in waves. You couldn’t leave due to the iron grip Sehun had on your wrist, caging you and erasing all attempts of escape.

“Hey, hyung. I just needed an opinion. Do you know, Y/N?” Sehun nods to you and you freeze as Baekhyun finally sees you. You hold your breath, waiting for the answer on the tips of your toes even though you were the one who didn’t want it.

His eyes lock with yours and you see the warmth even standing nowhere close to him. You see the small mole on top of his lip, the bridge of his nose, the cherry pink of his lips and all you can think is how he hasn’t changed one bit.

His eyes flit down to your wrist in Sehun’s hand and you quickly pull it away. Sehun doesn’t hold you back. And then he’s looking away as fast as he saw you, and you miss the warmth that he brought with just a look but you’re glad for the lack of his fierce gaze on you alone.

He hums. “Yeah, I know Y/N. We went to the same middle school but you probably already know that,” he states matter of factly. You purse your lips. Sehun didn’t know that.

Sehun’s jaw goes slack. “Wait, what?” He turns to you, eyes narrowed. “You never told me that!”

“Uhhh—” you dumbly respond as Baekhyun looks between the two of you.

“Right, I just wanted to know,” Sehun clears his throat, grasping Baekhyun’s attention once again, “if we could come to the party after the game?”

“Oh, you’re coming to the game?” He poses the question towards the both of you, but he only looks at you.

“Well, I’m going, but Y/N doesn’t know yet—”

“You should come,” Baekhyun states simply, looking into the depths of your soul. Your heart beats just the tiniest bit faster.

“I’ll see,” you mutter under your breath.

“Well, I’ll see you guys later then?” Baekhyun waves, the corner of his lips raised, and eyes sparkling in a way that only fits Baekhyun.

Sehun’s arm falls on your shoulder as he rises to his full height, effectively breaking you out of the haze that Baekhyun put on you unknowingly. You scowl at him as you grab your backpack.

“How come you never told me this precious piece of information that came from Baekhyun himself. I’m so disappointed in you,” he remarks as you exit the cafe. You dare not look back.

You shrug, a small shiver running up your spine from the breeze. “It never came up.”

“Bullshit. This stuff is already supposed to be established in our,” he motions exasperatedly in the space between the two of you, “relationship.”

You snort. “I’m not dating you.”

“We’re best friends!”

“That we are,” you deadpan.

“Were you guys only classmates?” he inquires, shoving his hands in his pockets and blowing out a breath.

“If you’re asking if we dated, no. But we were friends, I guess.”

An understatement but you don’t say.

Starting middle school in a whole new city was overwhelming to say the least. Having just moved to Seoul was already climbing in on itself over you. The whole car ride you refused to meet your parent’s eye on the trip to your new house. They pointed out famous landmarks and beautiful scenery of the ocean on the way, and yet, you refused, the stubborn 11-year old side of you coming out, as you blinked the tears away, never letting them fall.

And then came Baekhyun, a whirlwind of a boy, all smiling, eyes crescents, and hair a raven-colored ruffled. He flew into your life and you were grateful to him. He suddenly became a staple in your life but really you should’ve seen it coming sooner.

As fast as he entered, he left, and you didn’t like to think about whether it was your fault or his. One day, he stopped trying. Avoiding you, or maybe he just became too busy for you. He grew out of the pre-teen Baekhyun, a child in and of itself and became the popular teen Baekhyun who suddenly became the star of your junior high. You drifted apart, as Baekhyun entered the spotlight and you steered towards the sidelines, suddenly becoming a wallflower in Baekhyun’s life. And then you weren’t in it anymore. But you watched him grow up and everytime you passed him in the hallways in highschool and eventually college, a part of your heart clenched, happy that he was happy and sad because you couldn’t share that happiness with him.

Sehun saw the lingering glances, the almost spoken hello’s to the star player and deemed that you had a crush. He wasn’t wrong so you never corrected him.

“Earth to Y/N?” Sehun called, hand waving in front of your vision. You blinked, slowly turning over to him. “Blanked out there, for a little. You good?”

“Oh, um, yeah. Just thinking.”

“About a Byun Baekhyun?”

“Shut up,” you mumble and he snickers.

A few beats of silence pass as you walk side to side, shoulders brushing against each other.

“You’re not telling me something,” he says.

“No,” you respond.

“Yes,” he retorts.

“Whatever you say.”

“I’ll get it out of you, sometime. I already have a lead.”

“What? Are you Sherlock?” you tease, lips quirked.

He slides in front of you and you stop watching as he dumbly salutes, fingers all crooked. “Holmes, reporting for duty,” he announces.

You laugh and then he smiles.

Most of the spots are filled when you enter the auditorium, a mess of hair, clothes and Y/N.

You spit out some of the hair caught in your mouth, which probably happened somewhere between where you left the pet store, your part-time job, in a hurry after seeing the time and from now, where you stood, just barely making it into class as the professor entered through the adjacent door . You got a little carried away with the new puppers that had just arrived and that was all your fault. Not that you regretted it, though.

The professor set up his laptop, plugging in wires and setting papers aside, that you really hoped weren’t of the test you took last week. You scrambled to your regular seat, right next to the TA, Kim Minseok’s desk, and next to Kim Jongdae.

You dipped your head in greeting at Jongdae as you slipped past him to the seat and muttered your ‘hello’ to Minseok who waved you back.

“Please don’t tell me those are our tests from last week,” you say to absolutely no one.

Jongdae, from beside you, hears this and turns to you. “Those are totally not our tests from last week.”

“Those are totally your tests from last week,” Minseok pipes from the other side of you. You swivel towards him, lips pursed, frown in place.

“Is it bad?” you ask, grimly.

“Can’t say,” he grins.

“A hint?” you egg and Jongdae echoes your question.

Minseok shakes his head no and points towards the front just as the professor starts speaking. You melt into your seat, hoping that time would tick just the tiniest bit faster, if only to finish this hell you’re in.

45 minutes pass, not that you’re counting every second of it but you just happen to see after sneaking a glance at the clock hung on the opposite wall, when the professor finally announces the very dreadful thing that has you in a slump.

“And now for your tests!”

A series of groans echo your sentiments and you wait as he calls out the names of the other students, fists clenched, nails digging into the skin of your palm. He goes through a few people before stopping on the nervous human sitting right next to you.

“Kim Jongdae!” he calls and you give a pitiful look at Jongdae as he stands up to retrieve it. His face looks almost like a kicked puppy. The professor hands him the paper, says something, that you can’t hear (distance), or read (bad eyesight), but there’s a smile on his face. You sit at the edge of your seat waiting as Jongdae gets closer to you, his eyes lighting up as he reads the grade and when he comes to stand next to you, showing it to you, a cheshire-grin stretching across his lips.

Your jaw drops. “An A? That’s amazing!” He has his hand out towards yours and you high-five it, smiling for him. You sit back down waiting your turn, back straight, hairs raised.

“Y/N!”

You get up, walking as fast as your legs could take you, grasping the paper with eager hands. The professor smiles and says that it was better than your last and then your walking back, not daring to peak at the letter.

“Did you see it?” Jongdae calls when you get back to your seat.

You shake your head. “Can’t. You do it.”

You hand the paper to Jongdae and he chuckles leaning over. He faces the paper towards you, back slanting so he’s looking at it as well.

“A B!” you cry.

“An 89!” he exclaims.

“If you round up,” you start excitedly.

“An A!” he finishes.

“Yes!” you yell, fist pumping in the air and once again before exchanging another set of high-fives.

The two of you sit back at your seats ruffling through your tests exchanging answers for the questions you got wrong. The teacher rambles on about how well you all did this time, much better than the last. You paid it no attention, though, wincing as you saw another question you got wrong. You even remember studying about that one!

“Okay, students!” the teacher finally announces and you look up, setting the paper down on the table. “You’ll be doing a project—”

A series of groans cut him off.

“Now, now don’t be like that. It gets even better; you’ll be doing it in partners! The person next to you should do—oh! Would you look at the time? I better be off! Class dismissed!”

The screeching of chairs being pushed in, the mull of the chatter of students, and the scratching of pencils on paper fill the silence that the teacher brought and you stared at Jongdae, dumbfounded. And Jongdae stared at you.

“Is this real?” you breathed, voice ragged.

“I really hope not,” he answers back. “Maybe it's all just a dream.”

“More so a nightmare,” you remark.

Minseok snickers at the two of you. “Don’t be dramatic and get out of here, you two.”

You frown at Minseok as he shoots you out of the auditorium with the rest of the lingering students. You handle your bag, throwing it over your shoulder, carelessly, before turning to Jongdae who walked to your side with another classmate.

You wait for a gap in their conversation before pulling Jongdae away. “Do you have class right now?”

He shakes his head. “No, you?”

You mirror him, before cocking your thumb behind you, head tilted. “Library?”

“Better now than never,” he grins.

Jongdae steps off to the side when someone asks him something about plans on Friday night. You tell him you’ll save him a seat and wave before leaving, begrudgingly thinking about the fact that you wished to have plans on Friday night, ugh.

The library is vacant, spare the few students like you who thought to actually use it other than the librarian that no one ever sees. You tensely smile at a girl who you really can’t remember the name of but told her that one time in that one class after she made eye contact with you. A second later, though, no later, you looked away, wincing because if that wasn’t awkward.

The tables in the library were settled in clusters if you make your way through the library, high shelves of the paperback on your left, and non-fiction on the right. It’s almost like a maze as you enter the space, and really it's no surprise, when you spot ten people. Max.

You take a seat at the nearest empty table, pulling out your textbook and your laptop. It only takes a minute for you to get sidetracked after you tap in your password the already open tab of Twitter pulling you in.

It wasn’t your fault really! The posts kept rolling in and sucking you deeper and when finally your throat felt parched and you took a sip of water, checking the time, still not seeing Jongdae, did you see half an hour had already passed.

“The fuck is the dude, doing?” you mutter under your breath, opening a seperate tab for your email. The chair across from you screeches and you think, finally, before your eyes land on the person currently sat across from you.

His hair was ruffled and the tip of his nose and cheeks were blushing red, as if he ran. And it wasn’t Jongdae.

“Oh,” he mumbles, more to himself. “Y/N.” A deep breath then, “hey.”

“Oh, um, Baekhyun. Hi,” you dumbly respond, stomach flipping at the sight of him. Your tongue had the sudden urge to fail you at the moment, barely making the cut.

“Sorry, to, um, bother your studying,” he starts, eyes flickering to your open screen which displayed the email log-in page. Thank god he did not see your Twitter account. Maybe you would have actually died. “But, uh, I’ll just sit here for a few minutes and then leave.”

The way he’s fidgeting in his seat makes it seem like he’s trying to avoid someone. “Oh, okay. That’s, um, fine?”

His eyes narrow at you as you purse your lips. Awkward. You are very awkward and you know that. You shuffle in your seat when he looks away and chuckles silently. “Thanks,” he says.

A few beats pass before you deem it awkward enough to drag your laptop closer to you, and look through the few emails that were unread in your inbox. Okay, lie. You weren’t actually reading. It was more so that your eyes skimmed over the same from email at fifteen times, your brain not registering the contact.

Baekhyun apparently decided to break the ice, starting with a deep breath. “So, what class are you working for?”

“Um, microbiology. I’ve got this partner essay and decided to get started on it,” you explain, biting your lip from a nervousness that you’re not sure the cause of.

“Partner?” he asks.

“Yeah... partner,” you repeat, thinking that he needed clarification.

“Oh, are you waiting for them?”

You nod. “He was literally right behind me too, jeez, what is he doing?” you ramble, picking up your phone and searching for Jongdae’s contacts.

Baekhyun doesn’t say anything else as you type a text to a certain essay partner.

jongdae!!!!

You set the phone back down on the table and sneak a peek at Baekhyun who looks, even at a first glance, stressed. Eye circles ring underneath his eyes, the hint of purple tinting his fair skin. His eyes look puffy, like he just took a nap, even though it's the middle of the day, and your heart clenches at the thought that he doesn’t get enough sleep. You notice the way his fingers drum silently along the table, his teeth worrying his chapped lips, like he’s always doing that. Maybe a habit...?

“Are you... okay?” The question comes tumbling out of your mouth in a hushed whisper, like some dirty secret that can’t be revealed. Your eyes rake over him with worry as he looks at you like a deer caught in the headlights.

He’s wary, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly as he forms an answer. “What do you mean?” he finally responds. Answering a question with a question.

“You look tired,” you point, motioning to the undersides of his eyes.

He winces, hands fisted as he rubs his eyes, laughing half-heartedly. “It’s nothing. Just got a big game to prep for—speaking of,” and then his eyes turn to you, determined, fiery, fist placed on the table and any sign of tiredness in his eyes vanished. “Are you going to come to the game?”

“Uh—”

“You’re going to the game?”

Your head whips towards the side as Jongdae strolls in to the area, nonchalant. You take your pen and whip it at him with all the aim you could muster at such a short notice.

“I’m sorry!” he yells as he catches the pen and holds it to his heart before gently setting it down on the table a distance away from your hand.

“Thirty minutes,” you huff, as Jongdae takes a seat beside you. His attention turns toward Baekhyun who looks between the two of you. You can’t tell what the furrow of his brows or the scrunch of his nose conveys.

Jongdae ignores your complaint and addresses Baekhyun. You turn away pointedly, hands crossed over your chest, lip slightly jutted.

“What are you doing in the library, Baekhyun?” Jongdae questions.

“Um, just, you know, talking to Y/N—”

“Is that Eunha?” Jongdae interjects, leaning over the table, jaw dropped.

“Who?” you ask, curious.

“Yeah, who?” Baekhyun repeats, feigning innocence. You see the way, he blinks at Jongdae owlishly, and his straight posture.

“Your ex-girlfriend, Eunha! Is that why—”

Baekhyun’s over at Jongdae’s side in an instant, hand clamping over the blabbermouth’s mouth, looking around the library maniacally to see if anyone overheard. You choke, not sure what to feel about the new information, but when she leaves out of view, you figure it's her since she is the only one there that wasn’t there a moment ago. You look towards the two idiots at your side.

And if that wasn’t any worse, Eunha suddenly reappeared again right in front of you three. And she looked Baekhyun up and down, and then it was Jongdae. And lastly you.

With her sleek black hair sectioned off into braids, her makeup flawless, and her clothes without a single crinkle in them, you envied her from head to toe.

“Baekhyun what are you doing? Really? Running away?” She gives Baekhyun an incredulous look as he retracts his hand from Jongdae’s mouth, sheepish look pasted on his face.

“Um, actually—” he starts.

“Seriously, I just wanted to talk. I won’t bite,” she promises taking a step closer. You see Baekhyun’s eyes flit to anywhere but Eunha, and then you see him take a step closer to Jongdae, his hand suddenly coming down onto Jongdae’s shoulder. Hard.

“I’m dating Jongdae!”

Eunha’s jaw drops open, you choke on air, Jongdae shrieks and falls out of his chair, and Baekhyun colors a scarlet in the next few moments as crickets chirp through the library.

“What?” Eunha breathes, looking as if she just got slapped in the face. And in this case, you felt that it would have been a better situation. “You’re dating—” she stopped mid-sentence, closing her eyes, straightening her back, and taking a long, deep breath. “Jongdae? Is he lying?”

You watch as Baekhyun pinches Jongdae’s back as he opens his mouth, and proceeds to say the words that you are just dying to hear with some popcorn in hand. “Uh... no.”

Eunha’s eyes are almost about to fall out her head as she looks between the two of them. Baekhyun laughs a small laugh, pressing his index finger to his lips, and shushing Eunha. She barks a laugh, hikes her bag up her shoulder, and stomps out of the clearing.

Jongdae’s chair is thrown to the side courtesy his legs as he stands, towering over Baekhyun. “What the fuck—”

Baekhyun claps his hands together in front of his face, eyes clenched together. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise!” he squeaks.

“I should’ve just let you suffer—”

“—and I am so, so grateful you didn’t—”

“—in pain. Why the hell do I—”

“Coffee, for a month?” Baekhyun pleads.

Jongdae narrows his eyes at Baekhyun. “Two.”

“One and a half?”

“One and three weeks.”

“Okay, okay,” he surrenders, plopping into the chair next to you before turning to meet your eyes. “I am so dead.”

You smile. “I didn’t know you were gay.”

“Y/N!” he whines. “You know what? I am leaving, I have had way too much drama for today, and I feel my wrinkles popping out, god dammit.”

He walks away from the table as you erupt into snickers and Jongdae hollers an ‘8:45 AM sharp!’ after him.

“Don’t be late! I have class first thing and need my supply!”

Baekhyun doesn’t turn around, opting to flip off Jongdae, back still turned. Jongdae swears at him, and you laugh even harder.

What you don’t see is the small smile gracing Baekhyun’s lips as he exits the library doors, a little skip in his step.

Having to take an advanced sociology class for your major made absolutely no sense other than the fact that the people, whoever they were, that assigned the classes, were absolute idiots. You would know since you’re always surrounded by them.

The class ran for two terms but you only needed one, joining in at the beginning of the second this year. Everyone already had managed to find a place to sit, some people to work with, and a nice view of the screen in front of the room. You just wedged into some seats with some of the more friendlier looking girls and somehow managed to blend in to the wall, only needing a passing grade for this class.

You didn’t know many people in this class, but you at least recognized their faces. And that guy sitting at your desk with the suspicious looking hood was not one of them. You stood a few feet away from him, wondering if you should demand your seat back or just sit next to him. Or in front.

But that’s your seat.

Well. Your inability to communicate with people caught up to you and you took a seat right next to him.

It wasn’t until the end of class that you figured out who he was. You could hear a faint purr from the hooded boy next to you, his pencil strewn next to his head that was lain on the table carelessly. A string of drool marked the paper and you chuckled. But you couldn’t judge. That would be you today if it weren’t for the fact he was giving apparently important information from the girl on your right.

You pondered on the thought if you should just leave him, but if class had finished while you were sleeping you would want someone to wake you up. What if he had a class after this?

You drew closer to him and tapped his shoulder. “Hey. Wake up. Class is over.”

The boy groaned, shifted in his seat the tiniest bit, and continued sleeping. You tapped him a bit harder this time. “Hey. Hey. Wake up.”

You checked the time on your phone, before placing it back on the table. Taking your time, you placed your notebook back in your bag and zipped it up before tossing a look back to the boy. Still sleeping. The pencil and pen in your bag as well. Another look. Not even a little.

Boy, was this kid tired.

You tried again, and again, with even more force and smiled when the guy stirred, blinking his eyes, movements hazy. He smacked his lips a few times before finally moving his head up and locking eyes with you.

“Baekhyun?”

“Y/N?”

“You take this class?” you both said in unison.

A look passed between the two of you, as you blinked and he started giggling with you following shortly after.

“I take this class, but I’m pretty sure you don’t,” you finally say, smile placed on your lips.

“I owed my friend one and filled in for the day to take some notes.”

You snickered before motioning to the side of your face, your fingers ghosting your skin. “You have drool here.”

“What?” he squawks, hands wiping the opposite side of his face.

You shake your head. “Other side.”

He pulls the sleeve of his hoodie up and finding the drool, quickly wiping it off before embarrassingly pulling his hoodie on his head tighter.

“What’s with the get up?” you question, as Baekhyun grabs his notebook and you grab your backpack, both walking towards the door.

A group of students brush passed you and you notice how Baekhyun makes sure to duck his head down as he whispers to you. “You didn’t hear...?”

“Hear what? you whisper back.

He pouts at you and you shrug. “The rumors?” he tries again.

You filter through any gossip Sehun might’ve told you about in the past few days and come up blank. “Nothing,” you state.

He groans, hand coming up to slide down his face. “Come on, man. The rumors?” he harshly whispers, face turned towards you whilst walking, hands outstretched at his sides, and eyes blown out.

You suck in a harsh breath as he comes closer to your face, and that weird feeling in your chest blooms again. Almost like an eruption of lava, but more lowkey. A good volcanic eruption.

“Me being gay?”

He pulls back when he sees your lips pursed, smile begging to be released. “Oh, from when—”

“Oh my god,” he groans, walking faster in front of you.

“Okay, okay, sorry, I won’t laugh!” you exclaim, speeding up your pace and walking next to him. He took a look at the twinkle in your eyes and the smile playing on your lips and huffs before looking away. Drama queen.

“Seriously!” you repeat again. “Okay, wait, wait, slow down a little.”

He begrudgingly complies, hands now folded over his chest as you swing your backpack to your front and bring out your notebook. You zip it up and he sneaks a glance before voicing his curiosity. “What’s that for?”

You shoot him a smile. “Your favor?”

His eyes widen. “Oh shit! I fell asleep!”

“That you did, but I take pity and give you this.”

You hand him the notebook and he takes it, hand almost brushing yours but you can’t tell from how fast its gone even though the aftermath leaves your heart beating a mile a minute. You don’t even notice.

“You are an angel,” he breathes and sends you the most breathtaking smile that you think he could ever send you.

“Your welcome,” you state, voice soft.

“Thank you,” he says back.

You continue walking, where? You don’t know. But you move closer to him as he opens the notebook and you show him the pages that you wrote down today. You stop at a small bench on the side of the hallway where Baekhyun sets it down and takes pictures of the pages.

He slides his glasses up when they fall off his nose, before tapping the screen to make sure that its readable. You watch to the side as he ruffles through the pages make sure he got everything. His bangs falling over his eyes, and he shakes his head, the hair stubbornly staying put.

“Baekhyun!” someone calls from the side. You look over and recognize him to be from the baseball team. You forgot his name, though. Something starting with Jong but you weren’t sure. He jogs over to Baekhyun, talking about a late baseball practice and where the hell he’s been.

Baekhyun looked sheepish as Jong-something scolds him, calling him hyung and you can’t help but smile at the interaction.

“Oh right, that reminds me!” Baekhyun turns towards you suddenly and you feel warm under his and Jong-something’s (Jongin? Is that his name?) gaze. “Are you still not sure about the game?”

You inhale, looking at the way, Baekhyun pulls out his lower lip just the slightest and how it looks adorable (you’re cringing on the inside at your thoughts) on him. “Uh... yeah. Still don’t know,” you mutter.

“Well,” Baekhyun says, looking straight at you and placing his hand on your shoulder, “I hope you come.”

And then he sends you a smile and you feel your heart strings tugging at each other as he turns around, jogging to the rest of the team. Jongdae shoots you a small smile when he sees you and you wave back but then he’s gone.

It’s not until a good twenty minutes later do you remember that Baekhyun didn’t give you your notebook. You rushed back to the bench where you saw it last. It wasn’t there also.

Well, shit. You’re screwed for that test next week.

hey, this is Y/N. i don’t have your number so i’m texting you though sehun’s.

You read over the text and groan. Why would he care if you have his number or not—of course you don’t. Delete.

uhhh, anyways, do you still have that notebook you took pictures of? I can't remember if I took it back or not haha

‘uhhh, anyways’ is too awkward, dammit. Delete that as well.

hey this is Y/N. do you still have my notebook you took pictures of? I can't remember if I took it back or not haha

Okay, okay. Not bad, straight to the point. A little laugh in the end to ease the awkwardness. Hit send, Y/N, before you freak out even more. You press the blue button and thrust the phone back into Sehun’s hand before diving into your pasta. Nothing like food to hit your biggest worries.

“You’re such a coward, worrying about texting him,” Sehun snarks, tapping on the screen.

You glare at him, mouth stuffed, and he glances a look at you, smirking at your appearance. “Ass,” you mutter.

“That’s me.”

The door to the cafe jingles open and it's almost like a fairy tale when your eyes dart to the customer in the almost empty restaurant, with you sitting directly in sight of the door, and lock eyes with Baekhyun.

“Oh, Y/N! Sehun!” he exclaims, waving at the two of you with his signature smile, fingers straight as a stick, gaps wide between them in that weird way he waves at people (he still makes it cute).

You smile a small smile, and Sehun gives a weird ass cool nod that Baekhyun takes a greeting does a weird nod back. He pulls a chair from the empty table next to you, dropping the bag and sitting in the middle, your left, Sehun’s right. His side profile was astonishing.

You looked back to your food, taking another bite, as they engaged in baseball talk, wallowing about whether or not you should bring up the elephant in your room.

Thankfully, Baekhyun, ever the one with many gifts from God, looks towards you abruptly, slamming his hand on the table. You flinch, eyes startled to his, wide in shock, almost mirroring his.

He chuckles and you clamp your lips and relax your posture, eyes drifting away. Well, that’s embarrassing.

“Sorry,” he snickers. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“She’s a coward. She’s always scared,” Sehun interjects.

“No one asked you,” you retort, throwing the closest object to you (a napkin) hoping it would hit him straight in the eye (it didn’t; it floated to a stop in the middle of the table).

“Anyways, your notebook. It’s in my locker, I totally forgot to give it back, my bad.” His hand comes up to unconsciously rub at the back of his neck and you inwardly coo at the small pout on his—no! ”If you want, we can go now to the lockers since I have practice. Do you have a class?”

Your mind went blank for some strange reason and the only thing that came out was an “uh...”

Sehun, the sometimes-angel he is, saves you and you are so very grateful. “She doesn’t.”

Baekhyun looks between you and Sehun, an unrecognizable expression on his face, before his lips turn into a smile. “Great!”

He makes small talk while you finish your food, helping Sehun occasionally on the essay he was pumping out. He leaned over Sehun’s shoulder, his glasses slipping down his nose, and his eyebrows scrunched as they glazed over the screen. He’d gotten annoyed from his bangs that he clipped them up exposing his forehead, and—oh god, what is wrong with you.

“Okay!” you announce, a little too high pitched and chair screeching back at a screech that resonated through the empty shop. You freeze, coughing awkwardly when Baekhyun looks up at you through his circle lenses and Sehun snickers in the back. You chuckle, smile tense, before grabbing your backpack in light speed, fixing your jacket.

You cock your finger back towards the door, and tilt your head. “Sehun are you coming? Let’s go.” Your heart pounds—probably because you made a fool of yourself. Sehun shrugs before packing his stuff, Baekhyun following.

Sehun and Baekhyun, with their longer legs and faster pace, strode in front of you on the too thin sidewalk. You lingered behind sometimes joining in on the conversation but you felt as if you’d interrupt them with all the sporty jock language they were using.

You just decided to stare at Baekhyun. And admire. And daydream about what it would be like to marry and have tiny babies together. But at the moment. Admire.

Even the back of his head was adorable, added to the fact he was wearing the team’s hat and hoodie combined. Really, whoever designed them was genius. Baekhyun looks absolutely swallowed, only the tips of his fingers peeking out from the sweater paws.

“Y/N? Earth to Y/N?” Sehun knocks on your head, and your eyes immediately snap towards his the moment Baekhyun’s eyes meet yours. “Is the back of his head that fascinating?”

“Wh-what? No, what the—” you end up smacking Sehun feeling the nape of your neck warming up and letting your hair curtain over your face on the side that Baekhyun faced towards you.

“Woah, there, no need to get violent, I was just joking,” he intonates the last word, a smirk voiced and you glare up at him hoping your message traveled light years fast. You take back what you said about him being a sometimes-angel. He’s the devil reincarnate.

Baekhyun laughed his small cute laugh like ’hahaha’ and said something about zoning out. You nodded dumbly and continued to trail along with him.

“As I was saying...” Sehun says, hand waving in the air nonchalantly, “Y/N’s just using me as an excuse for leaving her at the game because she’s probably just embarrassed that she doesn’t want to miss the new episode of Extraordinary You—ow! What was that for?”

You smile up at him, lips pursed, words venomous, “what?”

He looks away, pouting muttering how you’re a big fat meanie. Baby.

“Oh Extraordinary You is so good. Are you caught up with all the episodes? I haven’t had time to watch the last two,” Baekhyun comments and your neck snaps as you look up at him.

“Oh, uh...” with the thought that he didn’t find it embarrassing that you spend your free time watching romantic dramas that could never actually happen in real life, you spoke up. “I’m caught up.” You still mentally threw Sehun into the pits of hell where he belonged.

Sehun snorts as Baekhyun hums.

A curious smile peaks over the edges of Baekhyun’s lips as he looks at Sehun. “Why... is it weird or something?”

“No, just, she thinks that she’s uncool to watch dramas twenty-four seven—mmmph—what are you—!”

Your hand stays at Sehun’s side as you smile at Baekhyun. “Just ignore him. He spouts bullshit twenty-four seven,” you give a pointed look towards Sehun at the end.

Baekhyun laughs. “Okay, then.”

“He spouts bullshit twenty-four seven,” Sehun imitates, voice pitches higher.

“I don’t talk like that!”

The walk to the locker rooms aren’t too far, just outside the school campus. It’s only a 10-minute walk from the food court area and you’re there in no time.

Luhan from the baseball team, which you know of from how much he frequents your apartment to hang out with Sehun, stole the younger boy, stating that they’d be back in a minute after stepping out of the locker rooms. You sat on the bench in the middle of the locker rooms while Baekhyun shuffled through his lockers that was packed to the brim.

“I’m not usually this messy,” Baekhyun mumbles as he takes out another bundle of what looks like an old sport jacket. “I’ve just been really busy these days,” he adds.

“It’s fine, take your time,” you commented, twiddling your fingers.

A few boys stepped in to the locker room, and you looked up briefly recognizing their faces but not their names.

“Oh, Baekhyun?” one of them called. “You brought a girl into the locker rooms? You never did that with anyone, even Eunha.” The two at his sides snickered and you watched as Baekhyun’s ears turned red at the implications.

“It’s not like that,” Baekhyun barked as he continued ruffling through his lockers. “They’re idiots, don’t listen to them.”

You chuckle softly. “Okay.”

“Found it!” he grins, spinning it around and holding it out towards you.

“Oh, cool, thanks,” you state, taking the book from him.

“Yeah, but I should be telling you that,” he chuckles. “Why do you use a notebook anyway? Laptops are a thing, you know?”

“Yeah, but I like writing the stuff. It helps me remember everything,” you say, stuffing the notebook into your bag.

Baekhyun hums. “Good point, but the hand cramps are so not worth it.”

You shrug it off. “Whatever, Byun.”

“Hey, Baekhyun! Practice is starting. Your girlfriend can stay if she wants, I already asked coach,” one of the boys called.

Your face warms up at the title, and you’re meek ‘I’m not his girlfriend’ is muted by the raucous of the other boys coming in. Baekhyun sends you a shy smile and shakes his head. “Again, idiots, but you can stay if you want.”

“No, it’s alright,” you breathe, “I have class anyways, so it’s time I go. Can you remind Sehun to buy dinner, and say no chicken, please?”

“Yeah, sure. Isn’t his phone broken or something like that?”

“He’s an idiot also.”

“Looks like everyone on this team is an idiot.”

You hum, thinking over the words, one thought shining brightly in the midst of all the others.

The next thing you say is totally uncalled for and if you were in a less delirious state and not around Byun Baekhyun, it would’ve never escaped your mouth. “You’re not, though. That’s why I l love—”

Baekhyun suddenly frowns and your heart drops. You idiot! Why would you say something like that? What if he—shit. You totally messed up. The whole getting to know him, shit, shit, shit. You totally messed up. He doesn’t have time to respond as one of the boys steals him, shoveling him out of the room, throwing you a beaming smile in compensation. You can’t seem to reciprocate.

The locker room is awfully quiet, now.

It has been exactly one day since you spilled your mouth in front of Baekhyun and it has been exactly one day since you have regretted saying that. You saw him this morning, at the coffee shop down the street. He was just minding his own business, looking through his phone while taking a few sips of his drink here and there when you accidentally bumped into him. Nothing precarious happened, like you fell into his arms or his coffee spilled all over your shirt and he let you wear his spare.

No. You blushed as red as a tomato and stuttered a sorry, before scurrying off like a mouse at the stony gaze pointed directly at you.

Why did you even open your mouth and say something stupid like that? You weren’t an idiot. You knew what was implied with those words, and yet you had to go and say it. You probably ruined the friendship you had slowly progressed with Baekhyun, too. What a stupid person you are.

You walked in to the microbiology class with a huff, no regular coffee in hand as you were far too flummoxed after the run-in with Baekhyun to go back into the cafe. Jongdae had noticed something was off and shared a look with Minseok. The TA shrugged.

You made a small burrow surrounding yourself with first, your books, second, your water bottle, and third, your bag, making a small barrier that you wished would shield you from all the remorse you felt upon yourself. Once the professor had walked in and started the presentation, you pride yourself from behind the wall.

Your motions were robotic as you copied important things from the presentation, highlighted key concepts in your textbook, and answered questions prompted by the professor. But it was as if your mind and body were separate and your soul was nowhere to be found.

At the end of class, the professor had called you and Jongdae up, mentioning something about the project.

You forlornly walked up beside Jongdae, the scuffling of your feet earning another worried stare from the boy.

“Y/N, Jongdae, I just wanted to note that since there’s a new student in the class, and an odd number of people, I would like for him to work with you,” the professor explains.

You nod numbly. Jongdae questions as to who.

“Oh, he actually attend today’s class, I told him to meet me as well… oh, there he is!”

You felt someone sidle next to you and Jongdae shifted to look towards him. “Oh, Baekhyun!”

Your head snapped towards the side, and true to his words, Baekhyun stood to your side, not bothering you a glance. He smiled at Jongdae then at the professor, thanking him.

Jongdae glanced to you, your mouth agape. “Y/N, do you want to come with us?”

“H-huh?” you stutter as you look towards Jongdae. “Sorry, zoned out.”

“Yeah… uh, do you want to come with us for lunch? We’re having pizza,” Jongdae reiterates.

Your eyes flicker towards Baekhyun and sure enough, the cold stare from this morning and the last time you saw him were still there.

“No, I’m fine. Thank you, though,” you say, lips pulled in a tight smile.

“Oh, okay, then. See ya!” Jongdae grins, before turning towards Baekhyun who still stared at you. He nudged Baekhyun’s side. “Let’s go, then.”

His eyes are clouded as he looks at you. You can’t tell what he’s thinking and it makes your skin tingle from all the attention. He finally pulls them away from you and you let out the breath you were unknowingly holding. “Yeah, let’s go.”

What an idiot you are.

The smell of meat filled the room packed to the brim with college students. Baekhyun sat stuck in the middle of Chanyeol and Jongdae and was somehow appointed to the meat as he got the lowest runs during practice. The room was far too hot, even for Baekhyun and he grabbed the air conditioner remote, setting it at the coolest. The boys burst into raucous laughter at a story that Junmyeon was recalling but Baekhyun couldn’t find it in himself to laugh. He merely blinked as he flipped another piece of samgyeopsal.

His thoughts were running all over the place, like a hurricane. But it was all trained on you.

Like that one time when he’d been coming from his class, he’d somehow spotted you in the midst of the crowd. You yawned, pulling down the hood covering your face and he had to hold back a snort at the way your flyaways stuck up filled with static energy. He started walking towards you, wanting to pet down the hairs but he stopped midway. Why would he want to do that? And he stood there like a fool, in the middle of the courtyard staring as you walked away from him.

He’d seen you so many other times and each time you drew him in to you and he didn’t know what was happening. Why his heart sped up at the sight of you so much, as if it were about to burst out of his chest. Why he had the urge to hug the living daylights out of you at the sight of you, as if you were his lover and he was yours. Why he blushed whenever you complimented him like a lovesick teenage boy.

The not an idiot thing was the last straw. And what followed scared him to the deepest parts of his soul. You couldn’t just go around telling people those kinds of things with that much sincerity and stupid sparkle like you held the sun, stars, and meteorites in your eyes. It made him realize something. This whatever he felt, was different.

It felt like how he used to feel back when he would consider you his best friend in the skip of a beat if anyone asked. It felt like that, but even more. And it scared him.

It was different from anything he felt when he was with any one of his past girlfriends. It was similar but far too different to even be compared. It was much more than that.

Was it friendship? Was it attraction? Could it maybe be… love?

Chanyeol knocked his elbow into Baekhyun’s ribs, lightly. “Baek, the meat’s burning.”

“Shit,” Baekhyun muttered to himself, still in a daze. This could be called love, couldn’t it? He always went on and on about how, all the girls he’s dated, he’s never loved. His heart was never full enough whenever he was around them to even be considered love. But around you—

“Baek,” Chanyeol called more loudly, this time jolting Baekhyun.

Baekhyun snapped his head towards Chanyeol, voice clearer. “Shit.”

“Yes, shit, the meat is burning,” Chanyeol pointed out and it finally registered in Baekhyun’s mind as to where he was.

Baekhyun scrambled to save the meat, hurriedly flipping them, and blowing out a sigh as they were still edible.

“What’s wrong?” Chanyeol breathed, mouth full with meat. He placed a piece in a perilla leaf, adding a tiny dollop of ssamjang and placing it in Baekhyun’s hand.

Baekhyun takes it, mulling over the question. “I don’t know.” He put the wrap in his mouth, slowly chewing. “You know Y/N, right?”

Chanyeol nods, sipping his water and swallowing.

“What do you think about her?”

Chanyeol hums. “She’s nice. Why? Do you like her?”

Baekhyun chokes on the water he’s drinking. “What? Me? Like her?”

Chanyeol shrugs. “You asked me what I thought.”

“But I don’t like her,” he wrongfully states. The way those words fall out of his lips, every word placed in it, feels wrong.

“Didn’t she used to be your friend or something like that?” Chanyeol reasons, eyebrows furrowing.

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Okay, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol interjects, seeing the inner conflict and what exactly Baekhyun was trying to get at here. “I’m going to ask you three questions.”

Baekhyun stares at him, confused. “About what?”

“One.” Chanyeol holds up his index finger, ignoring his question. “Do you like spending time with Y/N?”

Baekhyun blinks but slowly nods. Over the past few weeks where your interactions with him have slowly raised, he realized that whatever time spent with you, whether it was just a few moments, or hours on end, he never despised it. He even sometimes looked forward to it. No matter how cold he acted towards you.

“Two.” Chanyeol pops another finger up. “Do you think she’s pretty?”

“W-what? How is that even… relevant—?”

“Answer the question, Byun.”

Baekhyun bites his lip. “Okay, yeah, she’s pretty, I guess.” This question doesn’t take long for him to answer. When you were little, Baekhyun always figured you were pretty with your blinding smile and sparkly eyes, and as you grow up, your features maturing and becoming more distinct, he’d say you’d become beautiful. In his eyes at least.

Chanyeol claps his hand, a smile spilling over his features. “Close your eyes for a minute.”

Baekhyun complies, albeit hesitantly, just in case this was just some prank and Chanyeol is just sneaking some raw garlic in his wrap. But Chanyeol’s words pull him in.

“You’re standing there, okay?”

Baekhyun imagines this well enough. He stood in the middle of a road that he’s never seen before, alone. He doesn’t know what Chanyeol’s point is but he doesn’t open his eyes just yet, intrigued as to what comes next.

“Y/N is there next to you,” his deep voice continues.

Baekhyun places you right in front of him. You’re standing there how he saw you the last time you crossed paths. Bundled up in an oversized hoodie, and jeans, your go to outfit everytime he sees you. Hair pulled into a low ponytail because as you said, it’s annoying when its down, and it hurts when it’s too high up. And only a touch of lip balm because makeup takes too much time and according to you, doesn’t fit you. He thinks you’d look pretty in anything—wait, no! This is exactly what he’s not supposed to be thinking. However, the butterflies in his stomach start to stir.

“And then she’s leaning closer and closer…” Chanyeol hums again.

The you behind his eyes, mirrors the actions and he watches, wide eyed as you’re almost nose to nose with him. Your breath fans over his cheeks and you flutter your eyes shut, standing there, waiting. He knows what comes next and his heart aches, his skin tingles, waiting for him to continue. He can’t even pinpoint whatever he’s feeling. He needs to repress it, he knows that he should or else it will just end up absolutely horrible. Baekhyun can’t seem to make a decision. His lips press into a thin line before his body is moving before he can react.

And he’s kissing you.

Baekhyun’s eyes fly open. He’s met with Chanyeol’s trademark grin set in place and a slight rise to his eyebrows. “So? What did you see?”

“We…” Baekhyun voice was barely above a whisper and he felt his skin tingle. That was it wasn’t it? “We kissed.” The butterflies raged and he let them.

Jongdae knows the tension between you and Baekhyun. He can quite literally feel it when he’s in close proximity between the two of you. It’s so thick it suffocates him. But he knows he can fix it. He’s good friends with the both of you and he knows where the two of you went wrong. Baekhyun is scared and running away from his feelings and you are beating yourself over having feelings for him. It’s a never ending cycle and Jongdae just wants it to stop. Which is why he’s strategically planned this last work study to the tiniest detail naming it: Let’s Get Them Together Because Everyone is Fucking Sick of it. The name needs work but the sentiment is still there.

The warmth of the cafe drafts over him as he opens the door, with you following closely behind him. He meets Baekhyun’s eyes for a split second before they immediately go towards you as you hide behind Jongdae like he’s some barrier. He doesn’t appreciate this and would prefer more eye contact between the two of you as to initiate something, so he moves away.

Jongdae reaches the table and hovers, as you take a seat on the edge seeing that Baekhyun took the other. You face each other, but don’t dare to look at one another. The both of you were thoughtful enough to leave a seat for him straight in the middle, so there was that at least.

Operation Let’s Get Them Together because Everyone is Fucking Sick of it is now a go.

“Y/N! Why don’t you show Baekhyun that thing you showed me last night?” Jongdae chimes, smiling. Baekhyun looks questionably between the two of you before focusing his attention on you where you pulled out your laptop and materials. “Would the two of you like anything to drink?” He further questions, inwardly patting himself on the back when the two of you scoot closer together to ‘see’ your screen.

“I’m fine,” you chimed, voice soft. “Thank you.”

“Baekhyun?” Jongdae questions before looking at the cup Baekhyun taps at.

“I’m good too.”

“Alrighty, then!” Jongdae exclaims, clapping his hands together, before narrowing his eyes at you. “Make sure you tell Byunnie here, everything alright? And in detail too!”

Jongdae proceeds to skip off, laughing heartily at the weird stares you probably shared behind his back. Jongdae wasn’t planning on doing anything. Just fueling the spark that already came between the two of you.

Baekhyun’s eyes have opened into a new dimension and he knows about what’s driving him to act like this towards you. Well of course, he knows, he’s always known but always chose to ignore it. But now, he wants to change. He wants to change but now, he doesn’t know how.

It’s been one week since his talk with Chanyeol and the three of you had met up almost everyday, seeing as you didn’t have much time to cram it all into the last day. He felt his walls breaking around you. A small smile whenever you scrunched your nose at a term you didn’t understand, turning to Jongdae all confused with some tech problem only to find out that it was something stupid—you would turn in to a blushing mess after. Whenever he met eyes with you, you would immediately look away and it made his heart clench.

Sometimes you made yourself so small, he forgot you were even there, letting his walls break down thinking he was only in front of Jongdae. He would then remember that you were present, making eye contact and he would then see the pretty blush you would sport. He’d shut up straight away.

Jongdae had planned to meet at a cafe this time, going out for ice cream later in celebration for finishing. Baekhyun had come far too early, going straight after his last class just in case he came too late—a bad habit of his. And once the two of you arrived together, he’d straightened, ready to get this done and over with. He still didn’t know what was going to happen with the two of you, but has accepted that whatever would happen, would happen. But after that weird encounter with Jongdae, he felt like something was up.

“That was… weird right?” Baekhyun spoke, looking at you.

“Yeah,” you breathed, “totally weird.” You didn’t look him in the eyes as you said this.

There were a few moments of silence that drifted between the two of you, the ambiance of the cafe seeming to make up for the lack of conversation, before you spoke up.

“Did you manage to find the stuff about the stool analysis? That’s what Jongdae was talking about earlier, I guess. He told me about it and I found some stuff just in case you didn’t,” you started shifting your computer towards him.

He leaned over, hoping with the depths of his soul that you couldn’t hear how loud his heart was beating in front of you. You pointed out the parts that you found interesting and the differences between the analysis you’d come up with the days before. Baekhyun hummed, nodding along to everything you were saying, before one point caught his eye. He pointed this out. “This one seems nice to use.”

You grinned, before flipping open your notebook. “Right? I thought so too. I found some additional information about that specimen and compiled them so we could add it to our presentation.” You slid the notebook over to Baekhyun as well, and he had to scoot his chair closer to see.

“If we use this in our presentation...” he started, lifting his head up and locking eyes with yours. His voice faltered.

You were a breath away from him, nose almost brushing into his. He stayed there, frozen, wondering as to what to do in this situation, mind running a mile a minute and yet doing nothing at all. You were the first to move, coughing haphazardly, and leaning away from him, before pulling open a few more tabs saved on your bookmarks.

It would be okay, right? It was just you that his heart was beating for. Baekhyun was just a little too late in realizing that.

Jongdae entered at just the right time and Baekhyun spent the rest of the time, avoiding your eye now and trying his very best to control the beating of his heart.

Night had fallen as they exited out of the cafe. Baekhyun and you both carried a drink, yours being hot chocolate and Baekhyun’s another coffee to keep him awake for the rest of the night. With increased practice for baseball came less time for him to focus on his studies. And he really needed that stable GPA.

“Well, I go this way,” Jongdae states, cocking his thumb to the right. You and Baekhyun turn to look at him, confusedly.

“Isn’t your apartment like right next to mine, though?” you ask, confusedly.

“Well, yes, but I promised to meet someone earlier. Sorry I can’t walk you home, Y/N, and no ice cream,” he apologizes before his eyes brighten up again. “Oh, Baekhyun! Can’t you just walk her home? You’re headed in somewhat the same direction, right?”

Baekhyun scratches the back of his head. “I guess?”

“Great!” Jongdae exclaims before skipping off once again.

“Jongdae is acting really weird today…” you comment and Baekhyun can’t help but nod his head in agreement.

It’s a twenty minute walk from where you are now to your apartment building. Half of the time is spent silent with Baekhyun.

Until you meet Sehun at the crosswalk.

“Oh, Y/N-noona, Baekhyun-hyung!” Sehun calls, and you wave at the familiar face, Baekhyun nodding in greeting. “Didn’t know you were such a gentleman, hyung,” Sehun teases, poking at Baekhyun’s sides. The older man swats at his arm in retaliation sticking his tongue out at the former. You laugh to the side at the two children it feels like you’re walking home.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you pull it out, eyes lighting up at the name.

“Who is it?” Sehun asks, as he slides next to you.

“My mom,” you reply.

The words are falling out of Baekhyun’s lips before he could stop them. “Tell her I said hi.”

You smile. “Okay.”

You pick up the phone, voice soft as you slowly walk in front of the two boys. “Hi, Mom.”

“Yes, yes, I’m good. Oh, by the way, Baekhyun says hello. Yes, the one from next door.”

You look back at Baekhyun. “My mom says hello back and that you should come over some time,” you state. “You don’t have to if you want to, though,” you add as an afterthought.

“I’ll come over if I have some time later,” he tries.

“Sure,” you answer, relaying his words to your mom. Baekhyun can’t help but look endearingly at you from the back.

Sehun brings Baekhyun’s attention on to him, then. “Hyung.”

He looks over, eyes blinking, as he places his hands in his pockets, craving the warmth as a particularly fierce wind drafts through. “What’s up?”

“You like her, don’t you?”

Baekhyun blushes at the sudden confrontation. He thinks about it for a second before replying, not once thinking that it not be true. “Yeah, I do. Why do you ask?”

“She… talked to me earlier about you. Like a few days ago,” Sehun started, voice lowering. The three of you passed the crosswalk and continued on the side of the road. Sehun and Baekhyun lagged the tiniest bit as you walked along unaware of the conversation being shared between the two boys.

“Yeah?”

“She said she said something to you and you just turned cold and it was all her fault. I didn’t push her, but I asked her why she didn’t just play it off and say that she didn’t mean it,” Sehun started, getting straight to the point. Baekhyun waited on the balls of his heels for the answer. “You know what she said?”

Baekhyun shook his head.

“It’s better this way. What if I grow too attached and he just leaves again. I don’t think I can do that.” Sehun looked at Baekhyun gauging him for an answer.

So... that’s how she felt?

Baekhyun didn’t like to think about the period when you stopped being friends. He thought it would be better for you, to stay away from his crowd. You would always used to point to them, saying that you didn’t like them because of how snotty there were. And when Baekhyun joined the baseball team, with those same people, he thought you would hate him for that or at least grow to hate him so he just... distanced himself before he could get hurt. Because he was childish. And immature. He didn’t account to how you would feel, thinking that you would get over it. Maybe Baekhyun was as much a stable in your life as you were in his.

“I’m telling you this, because I know you’re a good person and I really don’t want you to hurt her again. When you left her before, I think it affected her more than she lets on. She doesn’t show it much, but I think that’s why she’s so wary with people in general. I really don’t want to see her like that, ever. So please—”

“It’s okay, Sehunnie,” Baekhyun interjects. “I know. I’m planning on making things right between us and I don’t plan on letting her go.”

“Are you sure?” Sehun asks warily.

Baekhyun nodded in confirmation as you finally turn back, hanging up on your phone call and noticing the distance between you and the two of you boys.

You laugh. “You guys are so slow!”

Yes, Baekhyun is sure. He knows what he wants to do. What he needs to do.

You shivered under the touch of the cool autumn sky, the breeze ruffling up your hair. As an attempt to block yourself from the harsh winds, you pulled up your hoodie, the fabric covering your ears giving you just the warmth you crave.

A familiar mud green slide that twirled around like a pretzel came into view as you turned the corner. Your heart felt full at the images of sunny days and fall evenings spent in the very same space years ago, with a certain child.

It was surreal when you turned towards the swings and saw the same kid that you remember from your childhood. Tousled mop hair that went past the eyebrows, button nose, rosy cheeks, and the poutiest of pouts adorned his lips as he glared at the rock a few meters away. His jean clad legs, swung back and forth and the momentum carried him down then up then down and up again, a repeating cycle. As a child, you could never stand the swings for long—they made you get butterflies in your stomach, and not the good kind.

He spotted you, eyes widening and legs skidding across the wood chips to halt his flight, before you could even wonder whether you wanted to be there or not. It looked as if you’d intruded on a rather private moment. “Y/N? What are you doing here?”

You stepped out of the shadows, clammy hands gripping the strap of your bag. “I’d ask the same to you.”

The swing only slightly rocked back and forth now and you walked up to him, taking the adjacent seat. You didn’t look at him, absentmindedly kicking your legs back and forth but then decided against it when a wave of nausea passed over you. Some things never change.

Baekhyun exhaled a heavy breath that somehow had layers to it. The creaking of the metal joints, rusted over years of children taking turns and calling dibs, showing, as he rocked back and forth. “You remember this place?”

You look towards the side, his voice drawing your attention. Clear, resolute, brights, but at this moment it sounded much different than the Baekhyun you remember. His head was tilted back, eyes closed and face relaxed, serene, and you couldn’t help but feel that way too. This place did something like that to you. All the jitters, and nervous butterflies were drowned out by the aura of this place, and it made you feel calm, comfortable. Home. “Of course I do,” you whispered. You were afraid that if you spoke too loud, something would break, and this, whatever this was would go with it. Your voice merely echoed through the space between the two of you, the buzz of cicadas quickly rebutting it.

“I come here sometimes,” he looks towards you as he says this, and you hold his eyes. Your eyes wander across his face. He looks so tired. “To think.”

You smile a small smile. “Funny.” He cocks an eyebrow at your comment. You shake your head at his pointed look. “I came here just to do that.”

“Do you come here often?”

Your breath comes out in visible puffs in front of you. “No.” Another, but larger. “Yes.”

He chuckles, his signature laugh making your smile grow even bigger. “And we’ve never seen each other before today? Crazy.”

“Yeah,” you grin. “Crazy.”

Your eyes bore into him, as Baekhyun, and as you see the way his shoulders hunch back, the furrow of his eyebrows, how his skin almost sags, the shadows bringing out the darkness under his eyes. You can’t help but ask, again. “Are you okay?”

His head tilts to your side and he opens one of his eyes, peering at you almost upside down, sideways. “Of course I am,” he chirps, “just a little tired ‘s all.”

“Then why don’t you go sleep?”

He tilts his head back up, eyes closing. “Can’t.” Silence looms over the two of you, but he breaks it, once again. “I actually need to apologize to you.”

You turn towards him, confusion etched over your face. “Apologize?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “I’m really sorry for being super... distant to you these past weeks. I don’t really know what got over me.”

“No, no, I mean,” you stutter, grasping his words and reason for an apology. “I should be apologizing. I guess, I stepped over a line, and your reaction was normal for what I did—”

“For what you did?” he interjects, puzzled. “I don’t get it, are we even talking about the same thing?”

“The locker rooms?” you try, wincing at the harsh memory and its outcome.

“Yeah… but you didn’t say anything like that—”

“Yes, but I said something that were implied in my words and—”

“Okay,” he grins and you warily meet his eyes. “How about we just forget that ever happened and start over again?” He cocks his head cutely and you inwardly coo, being reminded of the child you once knew (and now know again).

“Okay,” you agree, smiling.

The small smile he sported suddenly turned larger and much more wary. A mischievous grin pulled at the corner of his lips as he stood up to his full height, the swing twirling erratically at the loss of his weight. “I have an idea.” He bends down to pick up the backpack perched on the corner pole of frame when he looks at you, almost shy, and you were transported once again to the time when you were just a child and didn’t know anything better in the world. “You don’t need to be anywhere soon, do you?”

You shake your head no as you mirror him, dusting off your behind for remaining dirt, and straightening out your jacket.

“Great,” he beamed. “Let’s go!”

The arcade was still the same as you remember it. When you came to, wondering where in the hell Byun Baekhyun was taking you and whether you should’ve followed or him or just ditched to a sauna for the rest of the night was swiped clear out of your memory when you arrived at the front. A few of the letters balanced on a hilt of the building, were fused out, the A, C, and E, black in the darkness of the night. The sign now spelled, ‘RAD’ but you remembered the time when all of the letters dazzled bright colors all on their own.

Baekhyun shot you one of his award winning smiles when you looked at him, incredulously, mouth agape. “This was still here?” you marveled, breathlessly.

He nodded, excitingly. “It hasn’t changed one bit.”

And he wasn’t wrong.

The entrance was dimly lit, only one person over the counter and the teenage boy looked eerily dead, the light above him flickering on and off. When the bell chimed as you entered, he jolted, eyes glazing over the two of you.

“For two?” He queried, monotonously.

“Yes, please,” Baekhyun replied, bouncing on the tips of his toes.

The boy registered and handed you the tickets as you and Baekhyun paid for your own. Baekhyun tried paying for you saying that he dragged you into it, but you stared him down, and he eventually caved. Why would he even pay for you? It’s not like the two of you were on a—no! Y/N, don’t go there! Bad territory to be roaming around especially this close to a guy in a seemingly empty space. You shake your head free of thoughts as you focused back on the game at hand.

Baekhyun had got the lead when you glanced at his screen, but you quickly overpassed him, a trick from so long ago, now muscle memory, taking over you.

He groaned and you cheered as the tickets from under piled out and a crown displayed on your screen and a frowny face on his. You had an urge to soothe the scrunch between his brows when you saw him gloating off the number of tickets you accumulated over the time you’d been here.

As you headed to the counter filled with different toys and stuffed animals, the clock behind it showed that it was almost 10. You’d been here for two hours? It barely felt like 1.

Baekhyun’s eyes were trained on a pikachu plushie to the corner. He didn’t have enough tickets to buy them.

“I’ll get the Pikachu, over there,” you pointed, and couldn’t help but coo at the small almost inaudible whine that blew past Baekhyun’s lips. “Are you going to get anything?”

His eyes flitted between the number of tickets displayed on the machine and back to the wall of toys.

“How about that tiger over there? It kinda looks like you,” you nudged, smiling, when his eyes brightened up again at the sight.

“Okay,” he states. “I’ll take that one.”

The walk back was heavy, silent. The impending doom and the utter discomfort at not having a bed for the night loomed over you and you cursed yourself for ever giving in to your roommate's enticing offers. Dammit, you and your weak heart.

Baekhyun took a deep breath as the ticking of the crosswalk, halted you from the street. “I go this way.”

He points towards his left and you know your apartment is in the opposite direction but you can’t help but want to lie and walk with him just a little bit more. Everything about today had just been so... nice. There was no other way to describe. It made your cheeks blush red, your breath unsteady, your legs stagger and you heart beat so hard you felt as if it would burst out of your chest.

The words were falling past your lips and you wished to take them back as soon as they escaped when you saw the worry fall onto his face. “I was just gonna crash at a cafe for the night.”

“Too much homework?” he questioned.

“Well, yes, and I’ve been kicked out of my room for the night,” you laughed the last part off, hoping that it didn’t sound as bad as it really should. And then you realized that it did sound as bad as it did and you were quick to rebuke just in case a tiny part of Baekhyun worried for you. “I mean! It’s not a big deal or anything, just I owe Sehun a big favor and apparently his plus one’s house is under plumbing or something and I do have that essay do the day after, and I guess, it just all works out...?”

“You don’t have anywhere else?”

You nervously chuckled. “I already tried...? And it’s fine. Not the first time—”

“You can stay with me,” Baekhyun interjected. You coughed a sudden cough. “If you want to, I mean.”

“Uhhhh, well—”

“You’ll have to owe me a favor, of course, it’s not every day I let someone borrow the mattress under my bed, but it’s fine if its you, as long as it is a big favor.”

You stood speechless for the minutest of moments. “I—is that okay?”

“Yeah, it's cool. A big favor, though, okay,” he pointed.

You held your hands up in surrender. “A big favor,” you repeated.

He dropped his finger and a lazy smile that brightened up his face all the more, washed over him. “Let’s go then, I’m bunked.”

You startled awake, eyes shooting open. Darkness meets you and it takes a few moments to register the room you’re in with the only light source being from the tiny gap in the curtain. Curtains. Blue curtains. You don’t have blue curtains.

You’re currently on the floor. Laying on a mattress. There are two bunk beds on either side of you. One of them occupied with Byun Baekhyun who is currently dangling from the bed and drooling. Your brain finally registers awake and reruns everything that happened the night before, starting from your unexpected meeting all the way to Baekhyun’s gracious offer. Considering where you are now, last night wasn’t a dream.

You throw off the covers, suddenly feeling hot. Did he always sleep with no air conditioner? You wondered whether or not you should stay until he woke up, or if you’d be overstaying your welcome. Padding around for your phone, it was half past nine. You didn’t have any classes until the afternoon. You decided to kill time going through your social media, having nothing else to do. But your eyes soon got bored and trailed towards Baekhyun’s almost right above you.

You could make out his distinct features in the dim lights, the ones you are used to and everyone saw, but there was something so peaceful with the way his eyelashes laid against his cheeks and his lips and cheeks a rosy pink. And the drool. You stifled a laugh when the drool started to roll down his chin, threatening to drop off.

It wasn’t long for your heart to start pounding in your eardrums at the serenity of this environment and how quiet everything is. It starts getting louder, almost deafening until you peel your eyes away from Baekhyun.

You suddenly make eye contact with Chanyeol, who gazes at you blankly, face held in his palm.

You intake a sharp breath at the confrontation as he narrows his eyes at you. “Did Baekhyun bring you here?” he whispers.

You nod slowly before realizing the implication of the statement. “Wait, no! Not like that,” your harsh whisper makes Baekhyun stir and your wide-eyed as Chanyeol hold his finger to his lips. Like a deer caught in headlights you slowly nod in understanding. “I just didn’t have a place to stay, and Baekhyun offered. That’s all.”

Chanyeol’s eyes are clouded. You can’t tell what he’s thinking. For such an expressive person that everyone claims him to be he seems far too intimidating in front of you right now. “Do you like him?”

“What? No! Of course not.” you refute harshly. Chanyeol’s eyes narrow down at you. You wither under his gaze. “Okay, maybe a little. But don’t tell him, alright?”

“And why is that?” he presses.

“Just, please, I—”

I’m scared. You choke back the words.

“I don’t want to lose him as a friend.”

Chanyeol nods. “Okay. Just be careful with him, okay? Some people use him because he’s Byun Baekhyun and he just lets it happen because he’s too nice and won’t say anything, so just when you’re with him, take care of him alright?”

You look at him questionably. “Why are you telling me this?”

He laughs, waving the question off. “It’s nothing.”

“Huh... you’re awake?” Baekhyun slurs from above you.

“Oh, Baekhyun!” Chanyeol grins. “I was just about to make breakfast, Y/N, will you join me?” A flip had switched in Chanyeol’s demeanor and your eyes don’t leave his, even as he shuffles out of his bed, his earlier words bouncing off the walls in your head.

Baekhyun groans and flips his covers on top of his head, muffling a five minutes. Chanyeol cocked his towards you. “Coming?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, trailing behind Chanyeol.

xxx - xxx - xxxx [6:15 PM]: hey, Y/N! this is baekhyun! I got ur number from sehunnie if ur wondering

xxx - xxx - xxxx [6:15 PM]: i gave sehun a lil something for you :) make sure you wear it to the game tomorrow!

xxx - xxx - xxxx [6:15 PM]: also u forgot your pikachu at mine

‘xxx - xxx - xxxx has been added as a new contact: baekhyun’

y/n [6:16 PM]: ...should i be worried?

y/n [6:16 PM]: and you can keep it. u probably wanted it more than me. think of it as... payment? for letting me stay the night

baekhyun [6:17 PM]: it’ll look cute on u i swear!!! just please :,( for me??

baekhyun [6:17 PM]: also the pikachu will do

y/n [6:18 PM]: i hope ur not lying

baekhyun [6:18 PM]: i'm not!!!

y/n [6:19 PM]: sehun just came so i hope u stick to ur word

baekhyun [6:19 PM]: you’ll love it, trust me ;)

baekhyun [6:19 PM]: oh, i’ve gotta go now, duty calls

y/n [6:19 PM]: oh okay

y/n [6:20 PM]: get lots of rest and gl for tomorrow!!!

baekhyun [6:21 PM]: dw ill win it :)

baekhyun [6:21 PM]: just for you

‘message failed to send. try again?’

Baekhyun gave you one of his old jerseys, and a yellow t-shirt. You got the reference, his favorite color being yellow, and ‘byun’ printed on the back of the jersey.

“All the Baekhyun fans have one of these, but hyung said this one was special since he got it personally for you or some bullshit.” You didn’t care much for Sehun’s snarkiness, taking the clothing with gentle hands and scurrying off into your bedroom to squeal because Baekhyun got this just for you!!!

You’d tucked it into a pair of loose-fitted jeans the afternoon after, spending hours doing your hair and makeup before topping it off with a team hat. You’d gone for a minimalistic look, trying too much to make sure it didn’t look like you actually spent hours on it. Not that you were dressing up for a certain someone—who are you kidding, you are totally dressing to impress. Sehun took one look at you and snorted. You swatted his arm ignoring the look he gave you. “I haven’t seen this much effort since prom in senior year.”

You huffed a whatever, stalking out of your apartment and placing yourself in the backseat of his car, as you went to pick up Mina. Apparently the two of them were together again. You figured you knew when that happened.

When you get to the field, Sehun announced that he’s hungry and went off to the hot dog stand. You and Mina, meanwhile, climb up to your seats taking in the view. The bleachers are filled to the brim with people from your school and also people from not. You underestimated the sheer popularity of the baseball team in your state.

And you also noticed many other girls dressed up similarly to you.

“So there’s something between you and Baekhyun?” Mina spoke up, from beside you.

Your head whipped towards her and your mouth opened and closed like a fish, unable to make a response.

She glanced towards your shirt and then to the fine print of ‘byun’ across your back and raised an eyebrow at your lack of an answer.

“W-were just friends,” you finally stuttered out.

Mina’s eyebrows raise up another level. “Sure…” she says, sounding totally not convinced. “Because friends blush at the mention of another friend’s name.”

Your hands fly to your cheeks patting them down. “I’m not blushing,” you frown.

She laughs. “Whatever you say, but I personally think you’d be good together.”

You look at her, curiously, egging her to go on.

“I mean, Baekhyun doesn’t really date that often. Eunha—was a stupid decision on his part, I don’t know what got into him. But he’s a good guy and I think he really likes you, Y/N.”

“He likes h-h-uh?” you bumble, head spinning.

Mina snickers. “Yeah, I think he does. And I’m the best when figuring out these types of things,” she grins, adding a cheeky wink towards you.

Your left to mull about her words, as Sehun enters, handing you your hot dog and soda.

“Oh, it’s starting!” Sehun comments and the pitcher throws the first ball. The crowd goes wild.

The game ends with your team winning 6-4 and you find yourself cheering for them along with the others in the crowd.

Sehun drags you towards the locker rooms, telling you that it’ll be fine, and Baekhyun will totally not be weirded out by you visiting him after the game and telling him a good job.

“Sehun!” One of the team called out as you entered the locker room. A horde of sweaty boys swatted at your friend and took the compliments he threw out. You craned your neck searching to find a familiar pink-haired boy before someone called your name from behind.

You turned to find Baekhyun, with a towel slung over his neck, bangs sticking to his forehead, and cheeks flushed. Not to mention the smile that spread over his face like he just saw an angel. He looked effortlessly hot. So unfair.

He jogged towards you and before you could even say a hello, he threw his arms around your waist, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You froze for a split second before wrapping your arms around his shoulders, a small smile playing on your lips. You forgot that he was really touchy realizing he must’ve never outgrown the habit, not that it was a particularily bad one. His drooling was far worse. With how tight he was hugging you, you figured it must’ve been out of relief. You knew it. He really was worried for the game.

“You did really well,” you breathed, lips hovering over his ear. He smelled like sweat, undoubtedly and you were sure the warmth would stick to your skin soon enough, but didn’t dare shy away from his hold. He would always hold you like this back then as well and you felt comfort from that fact. Some things really do never change.

He groaned, voice muffled by your skin. His lips moving against your neck sent shivers through your skin so even if you did hear it, your mind was on another level. Finally he pulled his head back, still crouched so he looked up at you, a smirk sporting his lips.

“You wore it.”

You rolled your eyes, and pulled your hands away from him, as he stood to his full height. “You’re the one who begged me to, Byun,” you huffed.

“No, I didn’t!” he exclaimed, sounding aghast at your presumption.

“Oh, really?” you egged, eyes sparkling. “Please? Just for me? Ring any bell?”

“Okay, okay, whatever, you say,” he grinned, hand coming up to ruffle your hair.

You frowned playfully before continuing. “But you did a really good job! You worried over nothing.”

“Who said I worried?” he pouted.

You laughed before motioning to his eye bags. He swatted at your hands, before the two of you burst into giggles.

And then suddenly he’s grabbing your free hand, his encasing yours in warmth and raising it up into the air before shouting a loud ‘let’s go!’ to the rest of the people in the room.

The team chorused shouts in answer before Baekhyun tugged at your arm, eyes smiling like they held the galaxy and stars back at you before pulling you with the crowd that filed out of the cramped room.

You lost Baekhyun to the crowd once you got to the party. Migrating towards the kitchen, you grabbed a soda from the fridge, deciding to pass on the drinks tonight, no matter how enticing they were. Sehun found you brooding in the corner not two minutes later, and true to his word, didn’t leave your side. You, Sehun, and Mina, played in a beer pong game with some guys you vaguely recognize from your sociology class, but can’t put a name on. You played rock, paper, scissors, every time to see who’d drink and it was as if Sehun got on the wrong side of Dionysus tonight. You quickly got bored, however, gravitating away from the crowd when Sehun and Mina headed out on to the dance floor. It couldn’t really be called that when really it was just the living room with some strobe lights and stereos that blasted half-assed music.

You took a seat on the empty two seater, sipping on your soda, and looking up when Jongdae came down to sit next to you.

“Having fun?” he asked, voice almost muffled by the music even though he was practically screaming.

“I think I’ve had enough for the night,” you laughed. “I’ll just find Baekhyun and Sehun and tell them I’m leaving before I go,” you say before getting up.

“Oh, I think I saw Baekhyun before, I’ll take you to him,” he commented, before leading the way.

It isn’t hard to find Baekhyun, what with his eccentric hair color and white outfit. However, Jongdae suddenly stops in front of you, making you bump into him.

His mouth opened to say something and you peeked over his shoulder, thinking that there was something there that you just had to see. “What is it—”

Your voice falters and then you lock eyes with Byun Baekhyun. And he’s kissing someone. He’s kissing Eunha.

Baekhyun regrets it the moment it happened. His eyes fly open, when her mouth comes into contact with his and he sees your eyes undoubtedly meet his across the crowds of people hovering over the shoulder of Kim Jongdae. You stare into his eyes and before he can even pull away or shout your name, your gone, surrounding yourself in the shadows with Jongdae running behind you. He snaps his head back, glaring at Eunha.

He doesn’t bother to speak a word to her, opting to run after the way you came from. Shit, shit, shit, this probably would not end well. No, no, no need for negative thoughts, he will make it end well.

He doesn’t find you in the kitchen which was the way you were headed but he found Sehun and pounced on his immediately.

“Did you see, Y/N?”

“Huh, no, why?” Sehun asked, eyebrows furrowed. The smile was wiped off his face and in place a frown. “Hyung…”

“Just, see if she texted you maybe?” Baekhyun pleads, voice growing louder at the upturn of music. Sehun cocks his head but does as he said, eyes widening before showing him the text.

y/n: sorry sehunnie, didn’t feel too well. went back home if you need me ^^

Baekhyun’s heart runs into overdrive, and he’s out of the door a split second after. His feet are carrying him as fast as possible and when he’s finally on the elevator going up to your floor, eyes blown out and breath ragged from running, he takes a moment to conserve himself. It was a mistake. And you have to understand that. Because what Baekhyun realized as he was egging the taxi driver to go faster across the city, was that he wanted you there with him. He wanted to kiss you. Not Eunha. Not anyone else. And he wanted to kiss you really fucking bad.

The door dings open and he sees the color of your jacket as you shuffle through your bag, presumably looking for your keys.

He’s by your side in a second and you turn and look around to see what's all the raucous. You visibly stiffen. Your face is streaked with tears, eyes puffy, cheeks blotchy, and lips a dark rouge as if you’ve been biting them for hours.

“Y/N…” Baekhyun starts hand reaching for your wrist unconsciously. You shift away from this and Baekhyun notices that deflating.

“What are you doing here?” you question, voice wobbling, as if you were about to start crying any second now. And from the way it looked, it seemed to be true.

“That kiss—” he starts, and Baekhyun realizes his voice is far too loud for the quiet of the empty hallway and as you flinch, he takes a sharp breath. “That kiss meant nothing. Eunha doesn’t mean anything to me anymore. She’s just an ex, and I guess she thought since I was being nice to her that meant that we could be together again, and really it isn’t anything like that because I don’t like her anymore.”

You blink owlishly at him, looking as if you aren't digesting what he was saying, which made Baekhyun halt. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Be-because, you saw! You saw me kissing Eunha, and I obviously had to explain it or else there would be too many misconceptions—”

“You don’t have to tell me that. It’s not like I’m your girlfriend or anything.” You laugh heartlessly and sniffle. “I’m just some delusional girl who thinks that just because she used to be your friend ages ago, she would somehow have even a sliver of a chance that you would like her, but again that’s delusional! Because it somehow managed to slip my mind that you’re Byun Baekhyun of the baseball team. Handsome, smart, athletic, kind, caring, loving and not the Byun Baekhyun who’d tripped over his own feet and have dirt and drool over his face all the time—”

Your crying as Baekhyun kisses you.

His weight leans into you and you take small steps back as your back hits the wall behind you. He adds more pressure, tilting his head, hand gripping your hand more just in case you felt as if this wasn’t real, which he believed what would be running through your mind now.

He feels like absolute putty when you soften at his touch and splay a delicate hand over his chest, and when he bites down on your lip you make a noncommittal noise from the back of your throat that has him falling.

You squeak when Baekhyun’s hands, one placed on your hip and the other on your neck and in your hair and everywhere, tilt your head higher, bringing him deeper into the kiss. It isn’t until you gently push him back, breathless, and eyes hooded that he takes a moment to consider the predicament he stood in.

“I’m not dreaming, am I?” you breathe, wiping the stray tears away from your face.

Baekhyun chuckles softly, patting down your hair. “I thought you would say that.”

The clicking of a lock from the other side of the hall, snaps both your attention towards it. Baekhyun is amused as you look at him wide-eyed as the clicks continue. You pick up the key that somehow dropped to the floor in the midst of everything and are quick to open your door pulling Baekhyun in.

When the door shuts behind Baekhyun, with you leaning against his chest, breathing deep, and Baekhyun leaning against the door, he can’t help but feel like the luckiest man in the world.

His hands snake their way into your hair, one of them tilting your chin up. “Round two?” he smiles, cheekily.

You blush a pretty red before nodding and meeting him in the middle for a kiss.

#exowritersnet #exo fanfiction #exo imagine #exo scenarios #byun baekhyun fanfic #exo byun baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun imagine #oneshot #reader

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astudyinfreewill · 4 years

Note

dear adambra, can u spare a chainsaw & adam bonding time with a pinch (heh) of ronan pining for this trying times 😔👊

vila!!! 💕sorry it took me so long but i finally got around to this. i hope you like it! 😚 (and anon – i hope you don’t mind that i joined these two prompts!! 💞)

this and more i sat divining

1.3k, fluff, (sort-of-mutual) pining, pre-relationship (takes place before trk)

read on ao3

The thing of it was, Ronan thought glumly, that Chainsaw was a filthy little traitor.

It was hard enough to stop himself from spilling all of his secrets in front of Parrish; he didn’t need his psychopomp – one of his own secrets! – to expose him like this.

Ronan had spent a long time trying to hide the truth of his feelings from himself. He had done this by keeping them mired in self-loathing and buried under self-destructiveness. But something had changed over the summer.

Why do you hate yourself?

I don’t.

And he didn’t, not anymore. Not much, anyway. There were good days and bad days; but the important thing was that once that wall had crumbled – once Ronan had started loving himself again – he’d cautiously dared to reach out to the rest of his feelings, including the ones he felt for a certain over-tired, stubborn, car-fixing, uncanny, beautiful-handed magician.

The problem was that once he’d started – once he’d thrown open the floodgates – he’d been unable to stop feeling those feelings. Ronan now lived in fear that one word too much would give him away, reveal his innermost desires, gushing out of him like a volcanic eruption. Adam probably knew, anyway. He was clever like that. Ronan thought he knew, at least – there was something different, weighted, in the looks he sometimes cast Ronan’s way – but if he did, he hadn’t said anything about it, whether to acknowledge Ronan’s feelings or reject them.

Ronan could tell him. But he didn’t know what it would do to their friendship. And it turned out, now that he was no longer consumed with jealousy over Gansey or trying hard to choke down his own shameful, fearful feelings, he quite enjoyed being Adam’s friend. He didn’t want to ruin it all on a chance. So he kept quiet; he hoped and waited and watched (literally – he looked at Adam quite a bit, more than before, probably more than was wise).

Which would be far, far easier to do without a certain feathered traitor.

Because as Ronan’s luck would have it, Chainsaw fucking loved Adam Parrish.

Right now, for instance, she was perched on Adam’s shoulder with a startling gentleness, one she didn’t even display for her own creator, if Ronan’s constantly scratched shoulders were anything to go by. Well. He supposed wearing tank tops didn’t help, but still. You could just see Chainsaw holding her body primly so she wouldn’t weigh down Adam too much. Damned ass-kissing bird.

Right now, she was staring adoringly at Adam as he tried to eat a truly pathetically thin peanut butter sandwich without jostling her too much. Ronan could tell because he was also staring from across the cramped St. Agnes attic (no, not adoringly, fuck you very much).

…Okay, maybe a little adoringly.

Chainsaw hopped down from Adam’s shoulder to land on his forearm. She cocked her head imploringly, black eyes fixed on the sandwich. “Kreker?” she asked shamelessly. Ronan could have smacked her - or himself. He hadn’t spent hours trying to teach her to speak just so she could try and steal Parrish’s sad excuse for a dinner.

“No, not a cracker,” Adam replied, seriously, as if he was holding a conversation with an actual person. He paused for a moment, as if he was looking for a term that a corvid could replicate more easily than peanut butter sandwich.

“Snack,” he landed on eventually, waving the sandwich a little as Chainsaw followed it avidly. “It’s a snack.”

Chainsaw flapped her wings once, then cocked her head to the opposite side. “Snack,” she barked.

Well, Ronan thought. I’ll be fucked.

“Clever girl!” Adam praised, kind of in the same tone he used whenever Gansey demonstrated that he’d retained a fact about car engines. He tore off a corner of his sandwich – with some difficulty, since he still had a very hefty raven pinning his arm down – and offered it to Chainsaw, who gobbled it up greedily.

“Hey, shitbird! That’s not yours. Leave Parrish’s sandwich alone,” Ronan called out across the room. Leave Parrish alone, he wanted to add. Stop acting like all you want is to be near him. This was a dangerous game to play. Adam knew Chainsaw was dreamt. He knew about how the night horrors, his deadlier-looking dream creatures, only ever wanted what Ronan wanted. He knew Ronan looked at him more than a friend should. He was observant, and he was smart. It was only a matter of time before he connected the dots. If he hasn’t already, Ronan thought with some unease, glaring at Chainsaw as he nervously bit on the leather bands at his wrist. Seriously, just stop.

Chainsaw blatantly ignored him.

“It’s alright,” Adam said, looking back at Chainsaw. Which meant he had been looking at Ronan just now. Possibly. Maybe. “I don’t mind,” he added, tearing off another piece of bread and feeding it to the raven. There was a small smile playing about his lips, amused and almost fond – like he was enjoying Chainsaw’s proximity and attention, even if it was coming at the expense of his food.

Chainsaw chirped happily – since when did ravens chirp, anyway?! – and flapped herself back up to Adam’s shoulder, hopping closer to his head this time. Most people would be a little nervous having a huge-ass bird with an extremely sharp beak that close to their face, but Adam only held himself still, waiting, his head tilted a little to the side. Chainsaw took that opportunity to nestle into the crook of his neck and puff up contentedly.

Oh my God, are you fucking kidding me, Ronan thought furiously. He thought he could feel a blush creeping up his own neck.

He wanted badly to call Chainsaw back – assuming she would even obey – but he couldn’t bring himself to do it when Adam looked so genuinely pleased, like any and all affectionate physical contact was surprising and delightful.

“Atom.”

There was a moment of silence in the room.

“Did she just say my name?”, Adam asked.

“Not sure,” Ronan lied, studiously staring at the raven – glaring at the raven – and not Adam.

“Yeah, she did. She said ‘Adam’.”

Ronan made an ‘eh’ face. “I think it was more like ‘atom’.”

Adam shot him an unimpressed look. “I doubt your raven is interested in molecular science.” He carefully put down his sandwich and reached up to gently pet Chainsaw, using one long index finger to stroke down the soft feathers around her beak. “Even though she is very clever. Good girl!”

“Atom!” Chainsaw crowed again. The word wasn’t any clearer but the way she rubbed her head into Adam’s jaw made the meaning very apparent.

Adam looked at Ronan with a little triumphant smirk. Ronan rolled his eyes.

“Whatever, Parrish. Here, you little bastard. Let Parrish finish his food.”

Chainsaw flapped her wings in discontent. “Atom snack?” she asked balefully.

“No,” Ronan said firmly. “Enough ‘snack’ for you.”

Even as he was still speaking, Adam replied, to Chainsaw, “Yes, Adam is gonna eat a snack. Clever girl. Good bird. Are you gonna let me finish it?”

Chainsaw barked once at him, but not unkindly, before flying the short distance over to Ronan’s outstretched arm.

Ronan glared at her for a few moments, then turned his glare on Adam.

“You’re undermining my parenting,” he accused.

“Well she has to learn manners somewhere,” Adam replied around a mouthful of sandwich.

“Hilarious,” Ronan muttered, stroking Chainsaw’s head, absently tracing the same path Adam’s finger had. She tucked her head in contentedly, as if allowing him to pet her was a conciliatory gesture on her part. She was still staring at Adam as he wolfed down the sandwich.

Well, fuck. This was going to be a problem.

#trc #pynch #ronan lynch #adam parrish #chainsaw #my writing #answer #sonboyadam #fluff #mp #took me a while to write this but i loved it!!!! i love chainsaw #yes i used THAT poe reference and what of it

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platypanthewriter · 3 years

Text

The Devil Looks After His Own Ch2

Part 1: Little Steve Harrington is so lonely he tries summoning a demon with a ritual advertised on TV--but luckily, it doesn't work, and a buff, non-human nanny hired by his mom shows up minutes later. Years later, they're best friends, and Steve still doesn't know the truth. For @magniloquent-raven!

The other thing that Billy did that no other grown-ups Steve knew had ever done was have sex in bathrooms. He wasn’t sure for a while—because Billy always made sure Steve was fine, settled with his pancakes at IHOP, or in the play area at Fred Meyer—but Billy would leave for about twenty minutes, and come back sweaty and grinning, and kind of tired.

Steve snuck after him, once, and saw someone holding Billy’s wrists against the wall of the bathroom and kissing him, sliding his hand down to unbutton Billy’s jeans and pull his penis out, and Steve had stared through his fingers just long enough to see Billy grinning into the kisses, and shifting his hips.

Steve’d run back to his pancakes, his heart pounding.

He realized, thinking about it as he drew designs in the syrup with his fork, that Billy was that thing he’d heard yelled when somebody kissed boys—a slut—and he wondered whether it mattered. Billy did everything he was supposed to do, and he was nice, and stuck around with Steve in the shoe section while Steve tried on every single pair, and then when Steve didn’t want any of them, Billy took him to three more stores.

It couldn’t be a bad thing, Steve thought, biting his lips, not if Billy was one.

When the guy who’d been kissing Billy walked out—he had gray speckled feathered wings, so Steve was pretty sure it was him, even from the back—Steve ducked his head down over his pancakes. By the time Billy wandered back, still grinning, to slump in the booth, Steve’s jaw had firmed. Billy had looked happy, and he was okay, Steve was pretty sure. Probably. Even if it was the kind of thing that made parents yell like they did when they were scared.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his cheeks reddening again, keeping his eyes on his eggs. Billy sat up and faced him, flattening his hands on the table.

“What,” he asked, levelly.

“Are you okay,” Steve mumbled stubbornly, hunching his shoulders. “Y-you looked—okay. H-happy.”

“...you followed me,” Billy whispered, his fingers clenching into fists. “Shit. Uh, darn. ...it.”

“I won’t tell,” Steve said, shrugging awkwardly, and wishing he hadn’t been worried enough to see where Billy was going, because now he was more worried. “If—if you’re okay.”

“...I’m fine,” Billy said, which was what he’d said when Steve’s dad had threatened to fire him, and Steve wasn’t sure he believed it.

He forced himself to look up at Billy, surveying his just-washed face, and how pale he’d gotten since Steve opened his dumb mouth. “I’m not mad,” he said, which was weird to say to a grownup, but Billy looked like he might want to know.

“Just disappointed?” Billy asked, laughing, and grimacing.

“No,” Steve said quickly. “I-I’m not.” He’d been thinking about Tommy’s elder sister, and how she’d gotten in big trouble when their parents found condoms in her room—and how he and Tommy had hidden at the top of the stairs, listening to Tommy’s parents yell. “Um are you u-using condoms,” he asked as fast as he could, and Billy choked on the water he was sipping, coughing and thumping himself in the chest.

“Kid,” he spluttered, and Steve made a face at him.

“Are you?” he hissed. “You have to be safe. I love you.”

Billy stared at him for a long second, until Steve started feeling embarrassed, even though it was just what he said every night, as Billy put him to bed. “...love you too, brat,” he finally muttered back, leaning his face in his arms on the table with a deep sigh. “I’m...fine.”

“I don’t believe you,” Steve said, his cheeks heating further, because he’d found Billy that very morning trying to fill a sandwich with chunky soup. “We should—we should talk to—to my mom, or a teacher. So—so you can be safe—”

“Oh my god,” Billy mumbled, folding his arms over his head. His ears were very red. “I can’t catch anything from a human, okay, I’m not gonna get syphilis.”

Steve had no idea what that was, but it didn’t make him any less worried. He took a bite of egg as the server came over and asked how his breakfast was, and he nodded to her, smiling, even though he was so worried the egg tasted like nothing. “Wh-what about saying no,” he whispered to Billy, as soon as she was gone. “You, um, you can say no to—to uh, things, right?”

“I can and I do, kiddo,” Billy laughed, sliding his hand over to link their pinkies, his face still hidden in his other arm. “I’m okay, Stevie, I swear. You made sure I could say no, remember?”

“You’re still bad at it,” Steve said, because usually Billy scooped him up and put him in the bath, or in bed, even if Steve was laughing and yelling ‘Nope! No! You jerk, I’m still eating!’, but sometimes Steve would forget, and tell Billy to do something, and Billy would take a deep breath and hold very still until Steve remembered.

“Sure, with you,” Billy said, raising his head enough to grin lazily at Steve, and Steve couldn’t help smiling back.

“We should talk to—to somebody,” he said, stubbornly. “A—a real grownup.”

“I’m real,” Billy huffed.

“Somebody older,” Steve hissed, and Billy made a face.

“I’m older than your dad,” he muttered, crossing his arms.

“But you—you’re not human,” Steve reminded him. “You—you’re like a teenager. You said.”

“Nooo, come on, kiddo, lemme alone,” Billy groaned. “I’m old enough.”

Steve narrowed his eyes and grabbed Billy’s phone, and typed s-a-f-e into the search bar, and then braced himself, and tapped s-e-x. He hunched his shoulders, his face burning, and hit search. He found a lot of...things, and squeaked in a kind of dying way through his hand.

Billy snatched the phone back, looked at it, and said “Oh my god. Stevie. Stop. I will research it myself, and I—I will be careful. Okay?”

Steve buried his hot face in his hands, nodding, and trying to suppress horrified giggles. He kinda wanted to turtle into his jacket, or crawl away under the tables, but he just pulled his knees up on the seat, and tried not to whine like a tea kettle.

Billy grimaced, scrolling through his phone, and Steve realized—while his ears probably smoked with the imagery he’d seen about things in butts—that Billy’s shoulders were up, and he had his arms crossed in front of himself too.

“Sorry,” Steve wheezed, through his fingers. “Y-you aren’t—you aren’t gross! Sorry! I just—I just love you and—I have to keep you safe—”

“I have to keep you safe,” Billy told him, grinning, and shaking his head. “I’m more grown up than you, fetus.” His cheeks were pink, and Steve scowled at him, then kicked at his knees under the table.

“You’re bad at some things!” he hissed, as Billy yelped, swinging his legs away. “I have to help, I have to help you—”

Billy shushed him, laughing, and then opened his mouth, and closed it, as Steve sipped at his hot chocolate. Billy waved at it, and suddenly it was hot again like it had just come from the kitchen, and had rainbow sprinkles, and Steve sighed, wanting to—hug him, or something, and feeling the same annoying worry he always felt when he wasn’t doing enough. He knew Billy’d stay, he told himself, as long as he could.

As long as Steve could keep him wanting to.

“Finish your pancakes,” Billy told him, grinning. “Gonna take you to the park.”

Steve liked the park okay, mostly because it was where they went when somebody was happy with him, but it was also worrying, because it was where they went when his parents wanted him to shut up and go play. He was pretty sure this time was both, but when they got out to the parking lot, Billy grabbed him and spun him around so his legs swung around in the air, and hugged him the whole way to the car, and when they got there, he didn’t send Steve off to play while Billy talked on his phone, so it was Good Park Reasons.

“You’re not...mad,” Steve asked, cautiously, and Billy laughed, squeezing him tighter.

“Nah,” he said. “You?”

“Naaaah,” Steve giggled back, drawing out the syllable.

There was a pattern to Billy being a slut, Steve noticed, because if it was Billy, it couldn’t be a bad word. They’d be out, and somebody would see Billy, or Billy’d see them, and Steve would see them staring at each other. “I’m going to go listen to storytime,” he’d announce, or “Look, there’s a play area here, I’m gonna go ride the bouncy horse.”

“Me too,” Billy said once, cheerfully, grinning at him, and Steve shook his head.

“They don’t allow grownups on the bouncy horse,” he said slowly, wishing he didn’t have to tell Billy sad things when he was grinning, but Billy just laughed, hugged Steve’s head—messing up his hair—and walked off.

When Steve had to start first grade, he clung to Billy the night before, and Billy carried him around for two hours, making him giggle as they made popcorn and watched cartoons on Netflix, and then pulled a big wrapped present out of nowhere. It was a new LEGO set, one Steve had never even heard of, a dragon that could transform into a pirate ship.

“Is it that weird?” Billy asked, grimacing at it, while Steve stared, and Steve threw his arms around Billy’s neck, shaking his head.

“I don’t want to go to school. I want to stay home with you,” Steve said into Billy’s shoulder, and sighed.

“Maybe I should put it away, then,” Billy said, raising his eyebrows. “I was saving it for when you had to go back to school, but if you don’t want it—”

“I want it!” Steve yelped, scrambling back out of Billy’s lap to huddle around it. “I want it, I want it!”

“Okay,” Billy told him, ruffling his hair. “We probably won’t finish it tonight, but once you make a ton of friends, I’ll need something super cool to get you to hang out with me, right?”

“No,” Steve told him, laughing. “You’re my best friend.”

Billy laughed, but he didn’t look convinced, so when he got the fruit snacks out after dinner, Steve gave him all the blue ones—they tasted best—and the trucks, which were biggest.

“Ah,” said Billy, biting his lips together. “They’re very...warm,” because they’d gotten a little sticky as Steve waited for him to finish the dishes, but he crouched and pulled Steve into a tight hug.

Steve fell asleep curled up against Billy’s shoulder, and woke up in his bed, with his mom shaking him awake.

“I told Billy we don’t need him during the school year,” she said, frowning at her phone. “During the day, anyway. He’ll still come by and feed you, and put you to bed.”

She wandered off, and Steve wondered, clutching his blankets, whether anyone would make him breakfast. He climbed out of his bed feeling kind of...bad, like he’d had a nightmare, and might cry. He sniffled, and rubbed his face, and stayed in his pajamas until after breakfast, trying not to think about his usual mornings, with Billy pretending he was an out-of-control backhoe and scooping him out of bed, or Billy humming at the stove as he made Steve eggs and toast.

Steve’s eyes leaked a little, and he stomped to the bathroom and blew his nose, feeling like a big baby for missing Billy so much. He got himself cereal, and remembered shopping for it—Billy’d slowly taken over all the things Steve’s mom and dad used to do, like buying him new school clothes, and taking him to the doctor—and Billy had let him pick out things his mom never would have, weird fruits they didn’t know how to eat, and once, because Steve had liked it, a set of footie pajamas with rainbows and unicorns that was definitely for girls.

He’d warned Steve, once they were back in the car, that sometimes people were mean to boys who wore unicorns, and Steve had held up his middle fingers, the way he was allowed to do when their downstairs neighbor called Billy mean names.

“You tell ‘em, tiger,” Billy had said, laughing.

The day school started, Steve hugged himself in the soft unicorn pajamas, and pulled the hood over his head. He tried to stop crying so he could go finish breakfast, but he kept thinking of awful things, like what if Billy didn’t come on weekends anymore, and it was just Steve all alone in the house, and what if nobody bought food at all, and what if Billy was taking care of some new kid he liked better. His mom found him bawling on the toilet, and groaned.

“You have to go to school even if you cry,” she said flatly, and Steve nodded, sniffling.

“C-can I call Billy,” he whispered, his voice sounding kind of funny, like he was sick.

She rolled her eyes, sighing, but handed him her phone, and he fiddled with it until she yanked it back, clicked around, and handed it back, ringing.

“Yes ma’am?” came Billy’s voice, and Steve stood up.

“BILLY!” he yelled, and Billy laughed.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said, “—did you need something? You know I’ll see you after school, right?”

“I miss you,” Steve told him, with another sniffle, and Billy started making all these shushing, calming noises, like the time Steve had fallen down the outside stairs of the apartment building, and Billy’d been more freaked out than Steve was.

Steve giggled, wetly. “Um,” he asked, clearing his throat, “—are—are you with a...different kid?”

“No!” Billy laughed. “No way, short stuff, I’m just at the laundromat, okay?”

“If you get a different kid,” Steve said, stubbornly, around the hard lump in his throat, “—they have to let you say no. They have to tell you you can say no, you have to—”

“I’m okay, Stevie,” Billy said, sounding a little teary himself. “I’m gonna see you today, and we’re both okay, okay? We’re gonna both be fine. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I wouldn’t be there this morning, I didn’t know either, okay?”

“...okay,” Steve mumbled, glaring up at his mom, who was inspecting the edges of her false nails.

“I’ll talk to you later, all right, my man?” Billy asked, and Steve nodded, swallowing.

“Later,” he managed.

“So dramatic,” his mom said, grabbing her phone back, and hanging up.

Steve waited for the school bus with four older kids who kept screaming and pretending to shove each other into traffic. He rubbed his nails up and down his backpack straps, making a wsht wsht wsht noise, and worried about Billy. It was hot already in the sun, and he squinted watching for the bus.

The teachers met them by the bus, and they did a roll call, different loud voices yelling out their names. Right after Steve’s name was called was Billy Hargrove, by the same teacher, and that was Billy’s name, his whole name that Steve’s parents used. Steve spun, huge-eyed, to see a kid run up, his age, but definitely Billy, and Steve threw both arms around him, trying not to cry.

“Is this okay?” Billy asked, stiff and nervous, and Steve squeezed him tighter, feeling how small he was, Steve’s size or even littler, but still with his pretty hair, and his earring.

“You two are friends, huh? That’s nice,” the teacher told them, smiling, and Steve nodded at her.

“He’s my Billy,” he said, unable to stop smiling, or let go of Billy. Billy looked kind of startled, and proud of himself, the way he did when he cooked something right the first time, or found the boy’s shoe section.

“Are you gonna come all the time?!” Steve whispered, and Billy shrugged, raising his eyebrows.

“Maaaaybe,” he whispered back, but he was smiling as huge and goofily as Steve, and Steve missed paying attention to half the first day of class, he was so excited. Once he got Billy alone, at recess, around the side of the gym, he hugged him again, and Billy laughed.

“Are you a genie,” Steve asked, half serious, and Billy stilled again.

“...what d’you mean,” he asked, cautiously, and Steve laughed.

“You keep giving me wishes,” he said. “You gave me a best friend. And I’m not lonesome at school. And the LEGO dragon,” he told Billy, holding both his hands. “That’s three wishes.”

Billy was watching him uncertainly, and Steve was happy, not mad, so he leaned in and kissed the end of Billy’s nose. Billy squirmed away, laughing.

“That’s not all, though,” Steve told him, grabbing his hands again. “You got me Honey Nut Cheerios yesterday. I know we were out of them, Billy. You got my mom the job she wanted...I think,” he said, because he’d had suspicions, but Billy grimaced guiltily, and then he was sure.

“I got a best friend out of it too,” he muttered, glaring at Steve. Steve grinned at him, and Billy sighed. “Don’t worry, you’re not gonna run out of wishes, I’m not the guy from Aladdin.”

“You’re a genie?” Steve whispered, bouncing a little on his toes, and leaning in too close, probably, his weight squishing Billy’s shoulder blades against the cement wall of the gym, but then he remembered that Billy was bad at saying no. He stepped back. “Um, do you—do you need help?”

“I’m okay,” Billy said, laughing again. As a kid, his cheeks were kind of pink and round, and Steve clenched his fists so he wouldn’t get grabby.

“Could—could people make you do things?” Steve asked, biting his lip.

“You could,” Billy said, smiling, and turning even pinker. “But you don’t.”

“I won’t,” Steve nodded. “Is there—is there something people could—could someone steal you,” he asked, his voice cracking as the horrible thought occurred to him, and Billy shook his head, laughing.

“It’s not exactly like that, there’s no lamp, or anything,” he said, glancing at Steve, and then frowning at the ground. “I-I’m not exactly a genie. I’m—I’m just yours, as long as you want me.”

“Oh,” Steve said, in a small voice, wondering how he’d gotten so lucky, and also feeling like this was an even bigger responsibility than a puppy. “Um.”

“Or you can send me away,” Billy said, smiling, a little. “If you get bored.”

“I wouldn’t ever,” Steve said, pulling him into a hug again, and sighing into his smaller, softer shoulder. “Um, unless—unless you want me to.”

Billy shook his head, hugging Steve back.

He knew even less about first grade than Steve did, which was kind of weird, but fun, because Steve got to show him how to sharpen pencils, and clean the whiteboard, and Billy listened to books like he had no idea what was gonna happen, even books Steve had heard over and over before.

“Your new friend’s kinda dumb,” Tommy Hagen said, glaring at Billy, and Steve scowled.

“He’s smart! And he’s pretty, and he’s nice,” Steve hissed, and stomped away, and Tommy knocked into him every chance he got after that, spilling Steve’s paint and his glitter and his cheerios, but the teacher was a fairy, and she waved everything tidy, hovering about three inches off the floor in annoyance.

“Read me the next one,” Billy whispered, when Steve went to find out what he was doing by the bookshelf.

“...you can read, though,” Steve said, and Billy nodded, sitting next to him, and leaning his head on Steve’s shoulder.

“I was up early,” he mumbled, and Steve put an arm around him, and read him the story.

He turned back into himself—the Billy Steve was used to—after school, and Steve watched him, fascinated.

“What do you really look like?” he asked, and Billy shot him a frown, clenching his hands around the steering wheel.

“Uh, what does that...mean,” he asked, and Steve watched him, wondering if Billy’s shoulders hunched up when he was nervous because that’s what humans did, and Billy was copying, or whether that was what genies did, too.

“I just wondered,” Steve said, shrugging, and he looked away, trying to look uninterested. “You don’t have to tell me. Uh, recess is uh, fun, huh? Um, I like the tire swing. We should, uh, we should...make a snack. At home. Later.”

Billy laughed. “You’re such a good kid,” he said, grinning over, and Steve’s whole face reddened.

He nearly swallowed his tongue. “I—I’m normal,” he said, and Billy reached over and ruffled his hair.

“I dunno, kiddo, you seem pretty great to me.” Steve groaned, hiding his bewildered grin in his arms, and Billy was quiet for a long second, before saying “...it’s not like here, where I’m from. I can’t...be like I am there.”

“Oh,” said Steve, nodding a lot, because he had no idea what that meant.

“This is how I look here,” Billy said, smiling over. “There’s no big secret.”

“Ohhhh,” Steve said, nodding again, kind of disappointed, but considering the genie from Aladdin—the only genie he knew of. “It’s probably easier, having feet,” he offered, and Billy snickered.

“Yeah, yeah, it is.”

The real thing Steve wanted to ask seemed kind of...big, bigger than whether Billy was secretly blue. “Um,” he said, frowning down at his hands.

“...what’s up, bud?” Billy asked, raising his eyebrows, and Steve made a face.

“Uh, where did you...go? When my mom said you had to leave. Do you…”

“I told you, I took everything to the laundromat,” Billy said quickly, and Steve shook his head.

“No, I mean...where do you...live,” he whispered. “I thought...I thought you lived at my house. You never left before.”

“I’m okay, I’m fine,” Billy said quickly, and Steve bit his lips together, kind of hating his mom. “I just, y’know. I don’t sleep, exactly, I found a cafe—”

“That won’t work,” Steve said, feeling the weight of Billy being his, and setting his jaw. “I’ll...I’ll tell her I need you to make breakfast. I’ll make a big mess of the kitchen—”

“Don’t worry about me, kiddo,” Billy said, laughing. “It’s not like she made me go home.”

“It’d be nice if you did have a lamp,” Steve sighed. “With little stuff in it, you know, like Polly Pocket. You could go in there when you wanted to.” Billy started laughing, cackling so hard he pulled over and folded his arms on the steering wheel, and when he looked over, finally, Steve stuck his tongue out. “It’s not that funny,” he huffed.

Billy beamed at him, and ruffled his hair again, roughly, like he was trying to mess Steve’s hair up, and wiped his eyes. “You know what I can do,” he said, softly, leaning close, and Steve leaned towards him. The vinyl of his seat creaked.

“Why are we whispering?” he asked.

“I can change size,” Billy told him, grinning. “You want to build me somewhere to live, Stevie? With your LEGOs?”

“Ohhhh,” Steve gasped, staring at him. “Let’s go home right now,” he whispered back. “Do—do you want a castle? Or a—a death star,” he whispered through his fingers, his voice squeaking. “A ship?!”

“We can look at all the options,” Billy said seriously, and Steve stomped his feet on the floor of the car like drum beats, he was so excited.

He had homework when they got home, writing about his summer, and he groaned.

“You can do that while I fix dinner,” Billy said, like it didn’t even matter that Billy could be the right size to open the doors in Steve’s LEGO haunted mansion. It was hard to focus on his math worksheet for that and a lot of other reasons, like Steve got addition, it made sense, he didn’t need to think to remember what 2+3 was, and also Billy was cooking, and that was hard to ignore.

He was making mashed potatoes, and Steve was girding himself to eat them, watching Billy frown around the kitchen and then shove the potatoes in the blender, click it to make it go, and listen to it struggle. Billy turned it off again and glanced worriedly back at Steve, who pretended to be working very hard on his worksheet.

The fridge door opened, and Steve tried to watch surreptitiously—and sure enough, Billy had figured out that the blender needed liquid, and he was pouring Steve’s dad’s kombucha-cola into the blender with the potatoes.

Steve tried not to grimace, but then Billy sniffed it, made a face, and pushed two pickles into the mess, and he couldn’t help asking “Um, what do you eat?”

“What,” Billy hissed, turning to hide the blender from Steve with his body. “I eat—food. You’ve seen me!”

“You, uh, I think maybe you didn’t used to,” said Steve, watching the greyish-greenish color the mashed potatoes were turning with fascination. “So, um…”

“I’m not hurting anybody,” Billy said, hunching his shoulders like Steve might think maybe he did, and Steve scoffed, turning to a worksheet page on using ‘a’ or ‘an’ in sentences, which was even worse.

“I know you aren’t,” he told Billy, rolling his eyes, and Billy laughed, relaxing a little. “What d’you eat, though?”

“...I don’t…” Billy trailed off, grimacing. “I don’t eat like you do.”

“Oh,” Steve nodded, watching his face hopefully, and then frowning at the worksheet. “Are you like a tree?”

“...sort...of,” Billy muttered, rubbing his face, and Steve realized Billy was turning red. “When I...make people...happy, it’s like...sun. For a...tree. In a...way.”

“You make me happy all the time,” Steve told him, and Billy made a face, turning redder, and Steve let himself look away from the worksheet, trying to remember whether ‘y’ was a vowel. He watched the wet, brownish-greeny-grey potatoes whirling soupily around in the blender. “I mean, except for sometimes when you won’t look up recipes online.”

“They’re impossible to fuck up,” Billy moaned, grabbing his phone, and frantically typing. “I can’t mess up mashed potatoes, Billy, nobody can mess up mashed potatoes—”

“Whoever said that didn’t know you’re not human,” Steve told him, “—because that’s, uh.”

Billy switched the blender off, sighing heavily as he stared at the slow bubbles rising through the muck. “...cereal?” he offered, defeatedly.

“Cereal is good,” Steve said, guessing that ‘an’ was correct and writing it in, and Billy groaned.

“How about I have Mr. Johnstone remember you when he’s taking his cookies out of the oven, and bring you some?” Billy asked, and Steve brightened.

“How come you can’t make me want to do my homework,” he huffed, and Billy paused, frowning over at him.

“Is that what you...want?” he asked.

“....no,” Steve said, because Billy’s eyes were smoking, a little, for the first time in months, and also it did sound kind of weird. “...have you...ever?”

“Ever what,” Billy said, staring at him, and starting to pour Steve’s milk on the counter, instead of into a bowl.

“Billy! Bowl!” Steve yelped, pointing, and Billy grabbed a bowl, fumbled it, and then dropped it, so it smashed all over the kitchen floor.

“Fuck,” he hissed, waving his hand, and the glass pieces all flew up to be a bowl again. Billy leaned back against the counter, his shoulders slumped, rubbing his face.

“...wow,” Steve whispered, because Billy rarely did anything obvious, it was always ‘Oh, no, Steve, you didn’t leave your new baseball cap at the zoo, I have it right here,’ or ‘Of course your dad will come out for dinner with you, kiddo,’ and then the wi-fi failed, and he did. “I just mean, um.”

“What,” Billy sighed.

“When I had the flu, did, uh, did you...make me sleep?” Steve asked, because he’d wondered about that one, waking up to his parent’s panicked faces in the hospital. “Until I felt better?”

“You told me to,” Billy said, watching his face. “You said.”

“...only if I asked,” Steve said, nodding slowly, and Billy nodded a couple times, faster.

“Only if you tell me to,” Billy nodded. “Mr. Johnstone always means to bring you cookies anyway, I’m just reminding him, is all—”

“How come you don’t use it to do the laundry, and...things,” Steve asked, since Billy was answering, and Billy laughed.

“I could,” he said, shrugging. “You need to know how to do it too, though, right? This way, we can do it together.”

“...did my mom…” Steve began, remembering the long-ago commercial, and making a face as he imagined Billy ordered to pour something over his own head. “...does my mom...have your...lamp? Is that...is that why you have to listen to me?” Billy opened his mouth, frowning, and Steve shook his head. “I-I know you said it’s not a lamp, but—”

“...I don’t have to do what your mom says,” Billy told him, cocking his head.

“...just me?” Steve asked, and Billy leaned back against the cupboards, crossing his arms.

“...yeeeah,” he said, warily, and Steve breathed a sigh of relief, nodding, and kicking his feet under his chair as he thought.

“Do…” he began, and trailed off, and Billy came over and sat down at the table, raising his eyebrows.

“Spit it out, kiddo.”

“...my magical people encyclopedia,” Steve started, then paused, trying to figure out how to continue. “...it, uh, it says to...it says not to..ask for things.”

“What did you want to ask for, Stevie?” Billy asked, with a long, contented sigh, folding his arms behind his head as he leaned back in his chair. He sat his feet on the chair next to Steve, grinning.

“No, no, I don’t—I don’t...want anything,” Steve said, and Billy sat his boots on the ground again.

“What’s wrong, buddy,” he asked, sitting up to reach across, and squeeze Steve’s hands. Billy’s hands were twice as big as Steve’s, and Steve always felt safe, when Billy held him, but he shut his eyes. “It—it says if you ask for things, there’s always a...price. It says—not money, but—it—it can go wrong, I might—forget someone, or they might...forget me, uh,” Steve paused, swallowing, as Billy’s hands on his went still. “Somebody wished for their dead son back, and he came back but he wasn’t alive, or...or she wished for treasure, but then she got arrested for stealing it…”

Billy smiled, a little, but not like anything was funny. “...oh,” he said, finally.

“It—the book said not to just...wish for things, if you didn’t know how you were...paying,” Steve mumbled.

“I’m not a monkey’s paw,” Billy growled, “—or a like, a fae lord, I’m not tricking you out of things you want, I’m not going to steal your memories, or your name, or anything—”

“Tommy doesn’t wanna be my friend anymore,” Steve said, his voice wobbling a little, because he hadn’t had a lot of people who really liked him, until Billy.

“Tommy’s a little shithead,” Billy muttered, but Steve talked over him.

“...if I have to...pay something to be friends with you,” Steve said, thinking about how his parents barely knew he was there, and whether they ever had, or whether he only remembered them that way, “—is—is that—”

“Shit, no,” Billy breathed, shoving away from the table and stomping over to lean against the sink again. “I didn’t—fuck, there’s nothing I can say, is there, I could have done anything, you can’t believe me—”

Steve blinked wide eyes at the words Billy was using, glancing up the hallway in case his mom or dad came around the corner. “Ssssh,” he whispered. “Sshh, I believe you! Don’t say the f-word, you’ll get in trouble!”

“Who cares, right,” Billy hissed. “I can just make them forget it, right?!” He looked really upset, Steve registered, kind of relieved, even though he’d known Billy was his friend, really. Billy looked like he might cry, and Steve got up from the table, and went over to hug him around the waist.

Even if Billy had taken his friendship with Tommy in trade for wishes, or something worse, Steve thought, it’d probably be worth it. “...I didn’t mean…” he sighed. “I know you wouldn’t...on purpose.”

“What’s that mean, on purpose,” Billy asked, disentangling himself from Steve’s hug, but just to pick him up. Steve hugged him again, around the neck, and messed Billy’s hair up the way Billy always did Steve’s. Billy laughed softly.

“...you’d make sure I wanted to pay for the wish. You wouldn’t do anything that made me sad on purpose,” Steve said, sighing. “I know you wouldn’t.”

“...sad, no,” Billy told him, squeezing him harder. “Mad, maybe. You aren’t paying for wishes, kiddo. If you want Honey Grahams because I’m a shitty cook and I ruined lunch, I’m not going to steal your memories.”

“You wouldn’t take away somebody liking me,” Steve whispered, and Billy rocked him a little, sighing.

“Nope.”

“Mom and Dad never liked me, it wasn’t you,” Steve mumbled, and Billy froze. “You didn’t take that.”

“Oh, jesus, kidlet,” he said softly. “Of course they...do,” he said unconvincingly.

“They don’t,” Steve sighed. “But you do.”

“Yeah,” Billy told him, swaying Steve a little, and rubbing his back. “You’re my favorite.”

“Favorite what?” Steve asked, giggling, and Billy hrrrm’d.

“Favorite everything,” he whispered, lifting Steve way high up so he could put his hands on the ceiling, and swinging him around while Steve laughed.

Next Chapter!

#Harringrove #Demon!Billy #Summoner!Steve #Friendship #Kidfic #Billy ends up babysitting basically #They're friends

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