#i don’t overly care for award shows of any kind

[forcedhesitation]

I’m pretty sure bg3’s going to sweep every category it’s nominated for in the game awards, except perhaps best multiplayer lol

[forever-rogue]

Would write rockstar!eddie dating a shy popstar in a girl group like he's very much eddie with a bad boy rep and she's this quiet good girl in the media. Maybe she goes on a talk show as gets asked about him. Idk I just thinks it's cute little concept.

AN | I love, love, love the idea of rockstar!eddie and him being all soft for his girl! Enjoy 🥰

Warnings | Language

Pairing | Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 3k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Eddie Munson was everything you were not. 

While he was all attitude, grunge, and darkness, you were shy, soft, and gentle. Black might have been his color of choice but yours remained pink. He was loud and boisterous and honestly did not give a single fuck about what anyone thought of him and his music; you were quiet and gentle, preferring not be the direct center of attention. 

That was why you had absolutely no clue how he’d one - even known about you and two - ever approached you in the first place. It was a party after some random awards ceremony that you really hadn’t had any desire to go to. But obligations always took priority, or so you were reminded.

He’d come up to you after a few drinks, buzzed but far from drunk and started talking to you as if you’d been friends for years. At first you were nervous, worried that he might get too loud or…demanding. It wouldn’t be the first time, and unfortunately not the last, that a male celebrity had tried to proposition you.

But…he wasn’t anything like that. He wasn’t over the top, overly annoying, and didn’t ask you to hook up. Instead, he was funny, kind, almost shy and absolutely a bit awkward. It was such a far cry from usual persona that it made you like him instantly. By the end of the night, the most forward thing he did was ask if you’d consider going on a date with him and then for your phone number. 

You said yes to both without hesitation.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

That had been almost a year ago. Now? Well, these days you were utterly in love with your metalhead boyfriend.

But right now, you were missing him like crazy. He’d been off playing shows with Corroded Coffin while you had down time. It was both of those combined that left you bored without his enigmatic presence  and work to do. And it wasn’t like you could complain to just anyone; almost no one knew that you were dating. 

It hadn’t been by your choice either; you were more than happy to be with him, proud of him, and would have shown off that he was yours and you were his without a second thought. But Eddie had insisted that it was better to keep it quiet for now; he was more worried about hurting your image than his. You knew he had a reputation and you knew that yours was the opposite, but you honestly didn’t care what anyone else thought. Not your managers, not your fans, not the media, no one. But you appreciated his concern and had decided to humor him. No need to push the envelope and potentially ruin a good thing. Not yet, anyway. 

But as you were sitting in your cute little house pacing around for the hundredth time, you realized you really just missed him. Almost as if he knew what you were thinking, you saw his name and silly picture pop up on your phone - he was calling!

You answered without missing a beat, trying not to sound too eager or desperate. You quickly came to the conclusion that you didn’t care, “Eddie! My love!”

“Hi princess,”” his voice was still scratchy with sleep and grogginess, but you couldn’t help but smile. You’d woken up to him sounding like this hundreds of times by now and it still made you weak in the knees, “how are you? Been missin’ you, angel.”

“I miss you too,” the idea that he missed you was enough to make you want to cry all over. You’d done that plenty when he originally left to go on his little tour, “so much. Are you going to be home soon?”

“I don’t know,” he sighed heavily and you tried to hide your small sound of disappointment, “they added a few shows to the tour so it’ll be a little bit longer. Not quite sure how much though.”

“Oh,” you blinked back the tears as you tried to remind yourself that this was a part of your lives. But if you were being honest, FaceTimes and late night calls and silly (and sometimes sexy) texts weren’t enough. You really just wanted him, “well, that’s good right? That just means people love you and want to see you guys perform and yeah…very good.”

“Hmm,” he mused softly before pausing for a moment, “can you do me a favor, angel?”

“Anything.”

“Go outside and take a nice, deep breath of fresh air,” he insisted, “it’ll make you feel better. I promise.”

“I doubt it,” he just knew there was a cute little pout on your face. But you walked towards the front door anyway, “but I’ll try it.”

“Good girl,” he grew silent for a moment as he listened to you walk through the house and to the door. You slowly opened it, and looked at the early morning sunshine, but the sight before you took away your breath. There was Eddie Munson, in all his pretty, grungy glory, holding a giant bouquet of your favorite flowers. His smile was so big that it made the corners of his eyes crinkle and his dimples appear, “hi baby.”

“Eddie!” you closed the small distance between your bodies and almost knocked him over as you jumped into his arms, careful not to crush the flowers. He caught you and held you tightly, sighing contentedly at the feeling of having you back in his arms, “you’re here!”

“I’m here,”  he promised as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head. You could feel him relaxing as he let out a long sigh of relief. There was something about seeing you - feeling you - again that made any bit of stress and anxiety leave him, “I’m here, baby. I’ve fuckin’ missed you so much. I couldn’t stay away. Surprise!”

“Yeah?” he gently set you back down, allowing you to get a good look at him. He looked tired, dark circles under his eyes, his smile soft and lazy. You cradled his face gently in your hands and he couldn’t stop the small, happy sound that escaped his lips. Your touch was so delicate and tender, so different from his, and just what he needed. You brushed your thumb over his cheek, counting all the pretty little freckles on his handsome face, “are you real? Are you really here?”

“I’m real,” he promised with a soft laugh, “I’m real, I’m here. I had to see you.”

“Me too,” you confessed, dabbing at your eyes. Despite your best efforts, a few tears rolled down your cheek and this time it was his turn to wipe them away, “you don’t know how many times I was ready to get on a plane and join you. Eddie, I thought  - you said you had more shows?”

“We do,” the fact that you had missed him as desperately as he had you made him fall that much more in love with you, “but they’re here - local. I told them that was the only way, that I had to get home to my girl.”

“I love you,” you wrapped your arms around him and held him tightly, letting yourself melt into his warm, solid body, “I wanna go.”

“Go where, angel?”

“To your shows,” you insisted, and the way his whole face lit up was enough to make you want to say it over and over again. He was always beautiful, but this smile was enough to light up even the darkest room, “please?”

“You sure?” his question was shy and timid as his eyes searched yours. You nodded fervently, “people are gonna see you, you know. They’ll wonder what a pretty little princess like you is doing at a rockshow. They might find out about us.”

“Fuck it,” you pulled him in for a kiss that left you both breathless and beaming like excited kids, “I don’t care if anyone knows. I want them to know I’m yours, Eddie. I love you.”

“You’re killin’ me,” he picked you up and carried you inside the house, kicking the door shut before pressing soft, tickly kisses all over your face, “I love you too.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The last weeks had been a whirlwind with Eddie. He seemed to be reluctant to leave you again, especially for an extended period of time. You weren’t ready to let him go far either. 

You’d gone to his shows, standing out like a sore thumb among the crowd of grunge, leather, and rock’n’roll, but you didn’t care. You only had eyes for him, and when you were there, all he could see was you. 

After his shows, when you both had some time off together, you took advantage of it by spending almost every moment together. You’d always believed that if you spent that time together without a break you’d grow tired of them, but that was not the case with Eddie. You were sure that you’d never grow tired of your boyfriend. Even if it was something as simple as going to the store for groceries, it was that much better with Eddie. 

And, just as Eddie had thought, people were starting to take notice. While you presented a very contrasting pair, you really didn’t know why people were so interested in your relationship. You were just two people living their lives. But at the same time, you couldn’t lie and say that some of the posts you’d seen online weren’t amusing. 

The funniest posts were the ones that claimed that Eddie had somehow manipulated into dating him, or used some sort of satanic magic to corrupt you. Where people came up with such rumors was beyond you. How come you were never the one that tricked Eddie into dating you? That you’d somehow used your sweet magic to win him over. You’d pouted and complained about it to Eddie and he’d just grinned and kissed away any of your worries and complaints.

But it all came to a head one unsuspecting afternoon, during what you had thought would be a normal interview. You weren’t the only one there, but one among the four of your group. You were the one that normally was more reversed and quiet, preferring to let one of the others handle more of the talking. It was a good thing that all four of you were such good friends and balanced each other so well. They, of course, knew about your relationship with Eddie, but never told anyone else, as were your wishes. 

But that didn’t stop the interviewer from turning their attention to you. Admittedly you were a little zoned out - after getting asked the same questions at least a hundred times, it all became a redundant blur. Not this time, however, and when you heard your name being called by the interviewer, a bubbly middle-aged woman, you snapped into attention with wide eyes and a sheepish expression. 

“You are making quite a splash lately,” she gave you a knowing little smile and you felt your whole face flush with warmth, “you’ve been seen out on several occasions with Eddie Munson of Corroded Coffin. An unexpected pairing to be sure - are you working on a collaboration or assisting his band with anything?”

“Oh,” suddenly every coherent thought you had made its way out of your head as you opened and closed your mouth a few times. You felt the other girls’ gazes shift to you and realized it was either now or never. Either you lied and made up some reason for spending time with him or you told the world that you were actually dating Eddie. You decided just to do it and get it over with, “no, we’re not working together - although for me that would be a dream, I don’t know about the rest of these ladies but I think it could be a fun experience.”

“So…you just happened to be in the same place at the same time?” It was almost funny how so very close she was to realizing what it really was but still managed to be so far away.

“No, it wasn’t an accident,” you felt a rush of giddiness run through your entire body as you shook your head, “we’re dating! He’s my boyfriend.”

You heard a few sounds of surprise from people behind the scenes, including one of your managers. The rest of your group looked at you happily; they knew how much you loved Eddie and vice versa and how good the two of you were together, “oh. Oh? What an unexpected match! I guess what they say is true - opposites attract. What drew you to him? Was it the bad boy persona and attitude? You’ve always been known to be rather shy-”

“It’s not…we look different, absolutely, but in reality we’re not that different,” you narrowed your eyes but still managed to give her a sticky sweet smile, tone dripping in honey, “we’re very alike in our interests and so many other things. I think people just like to slap a label on someone and go with it, even if they don’t know the truth or are very far from it.”

“Obviously you’re biased, but I’m curious to know what the rest of your bandmates think-”

“I don’t think I’m biased,” you could feel everyone’s eyes on you; this wasn’t like you in the slightest, “I think people just assume things when they don’t want to take the time to know the truth.”

“Maybe the rumors and buzz are true - he’s got you corrupted!”

“If anything,” you shrugged, “it’s the other way around. Don’t get it confused; you may think you know, but you - most people - have no idea. And just to be clear - I’d love to work with him in a professional capacity as well.”

“That makes all of us,” Lily, the bandmate you were closest to pitched in and they all nodded, “Eddie’s a great guy, and so are the rest of the band. We’d love to work with them.”

You felt an intense gaze on you and turned your attention behind the cameras, already quiet again; you’d said what you needed to. After a few moments of searching, you found those familiar brown bambi eyes looking at you. You had no clue he would be making an appearance today, but your tummy exploded with butterflies when you realized he came just for you. A small smile stretched across his face as he winked at you. He knew his girl was a firecracker. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Baby, baby, baby,” Eddie was singing as soon as he let himself into your house with the key you’d given him; he was long past the point of knocking and announcing himself. He found you sitting at the kitchen counter, on the phone. Your expression completely shifted as soon as you heard him and you quickly ended the call, all but hanging up. You slid off the stool and met him halfway, almost jumping into his arms and he spun you around, “my pretty baby, and she’s all mine. She’s so sweet, she makes me want to die.”

“Eddie,” you snorted in amusement before giggling. You pulled back, but not without giving him a few kisses first, “as much as I appreciate the song on the fly - I make you want to die? Super romantic…in a tragic Romeo and Juliet way. So…terrible.”

“Baby, I just meant that I could die from bursting with your sweet love,” oh. This man was such a dork, so ridiculous. And you were madly in love with him, “you’ve got me in all the best ways, princess. And I want the world to know that I’m yours and you’re mineeeeee.”

“Jesus,” you shook your head at him and his overly dramatic singing. He had that mischievous little glint in his eye and you knew what was coming next.

“Not Jesus, just Eddie,” you both said at the same time. He was practically radiating golden light and you couldn’t help but kiss him. It was soft, sweet, and left you both wanting more, more, more. You carded a hand through his unruly waves (soft and more lush since he’d met you and decided to listen to your hair care advice) before resting your hand on his neck and stroking his soft, pale skin gently.

“What’re you looking at me like that for, angel?” his breath hitched in his throat as you shook your head, “lookin’ at me like got me thinkin’ you might just be madly in love with me.”

“Oh baby, baby, baby, my honey boy,” you touched his cheek and sang softly at him, watching as a pretty pink rosy flush colored his cheeks. You pressed big, sloppy kisses to each cheek, “I love you so much, more than anything in this world. And I am madly in love with you.”

“I must be the fucking luckiest guy in the world,” he put a finger under your chin and turned your face up to his, “to be loved by you.”

“Hush,” you wrapped your fingers around his slender wrist before bringing his hand to your lips and kissing his knuckles, “I am very lucky too. What are you hiding, hmm? I know that look, Eddie Munson.”

“Clocked already,” he grinned as you shrugged, proud of yourself for knowing him so well, “so, I talked to the rest of the guys and we decided that we would love to take you up on your offer.”

“Offer? What offer?” you tilted your head to the side in confusion, looking sweeter and more innocent than anyone had the right to.

“About collaborating,” he grinned and your face lit up. While it had been a dream of yours for a while, you had said it more in the moment than anything else. You’d never expect it to hold any weight, “what do you think?”

“Really?” you bounced on your heels in excitement as he nodded shyly, “I’d love that Eddie, we all will. I never thought…it would actually happen.’

“The chance to work with my girl?” he tutted softly as his large hands settled gently on your hips and he pulled you into him, “that’s a dream. Besides, I could never say no to you, angel.”

“You’re the best,” you pressed a chaste little kiss to his cheek, “I adore you - I love you so much.”

“I love you,” he couldn’t help but touch the skin you’d blessed with your lips, “let’s get started. No time like the present!”

[prettyboykatsuki]

♡  bakugou headcanons that feel like a warm hug ♡

➳wc ;; 1.2k (oh my god. what is wrong w me.) 

➳ a/n ;; or my bakugou brain-rot that never goes away. thanks for being my comfort character, you fucking gremlin. forgive the silly title. 

♡ always makes little adjustments to the environment for you. he’s observant to a fault so if there’s something even a little off and it happens to bother you, he’s trying to work around it. 

♡ good at playing guitar but not good at reading music. he can throw something together if you give him a chance but he’s not good at trying to recreate someone elses memory. he’s not like.. musically gifted either but he likes how guitar sounds 

♡ thinks about getting a lot of piercings in his ear because he thinks they’d look cool but is kind of too nervous? the idea of a needle going through his skin is a ick. when you start dating, he drags you to his appointments lol - won’t admit it but he thinks he looks so hot when he gets them. takes a bunch of selfies <3 

♡ needs to be moving constantly. can’t sit completely still to save his life. when he listens to music, he moves his head. sometimes he just runs his thumb over his fingers. 

♡ really, really bad at talking. not in the sense he can’t communicate (that too) but he just likes listening in conversation. rarely adds his own thing. but when he does - always accidentally says something super meaningful 

♡ enjoys subtle physical touch because it is literally intimate he melts inside. a hand on his forearm or shoulder. your legs over his lap. small things that show how comfortable you are. 

♡ likes being held cause he’s a big ass baby lmfao 

♡ wont admit it but enjoy when you choose pretty or colorful bandages for his cuts he won’t himself but it’s like keeping you in his pocket wherever he goes.  

♡ really needs you to find him attractive dslksjk it’s not that he ever thinks he’s particularly ugly. but he didn’t really assign importance to his appearance at any point in his life, yet now he puts in a scary amount of effort. readjusts his hair so much more, makes sure his clothes fit good. fixes his fuckin’ face lol 

♡ likes chewing gum a lot and always has a pack on him. really proud of how big he can blow bubbles and will be a little sad if you’re unimpressed. 

♡ is overly sentimental about things you’ve made him - especially if it’s something super dumb. you drew him a silly little sketch of him in a frog hat? it’s in his wallet behind his id. freaks out when he thinks he’s lost his wallet 

♡ LOVES phone calls. yes he still hates talking. but the way his face looks when he listens to your voice. eyes half-lidded, shamelessly smiling - it’s so tender and so lovesick. 

♡ terrible first grader hand-writing. he tries to write them for you in the beginning of your relationship (to be romantic or some shit) but they’re so incomprehensible pls. if he focuses on it - it can be legible but most of the time ... yea no. 

♡ doesn’t favor tea or coffee but prefers tea if he has to drink one. 

♡ crazy good at eyeballing measurement. even in baking. once made a perfectly good bread without weighing anything and doesn’t get why that’s so wild. 

♡ has the phone on his text set to be bigger even though his eyes are fine. 

♡ lets you do the layout thing on his iphone and decorate as you please. says he doesn’t care but when he sees you made it hero themed/fit with his aesthetic - he got so red it was so cute. 

♡ hates shopping in store. will still always go with you because the one time you went alone a store clerk hit on you.  

♡ so practical. he started couponing when he was in his early twenties like an old man. checks the news and weather the night before, every night. never misses doctors appointments. 

♡ shit at any form of visual art. drawing, painting etc - cannot do it to save his life. but he tries. his hands shake when he tries to draw hearts for you 

♡ blows the eyelashes off your cheek super gently whenever he notices. he’ll like.. take your face in his hands and blow so softly like he’s gonna hurt you. 

♡ used to agree to make pinky promises with you as a joke. now though? automatically holds his pink out for you to take it. straight up pouts if you don’t. 

♡ you two have a song and when it comes on, he’ll sing it back to you. any other time? any other song? he wont. but he always sings your song even without realizing, just mouths it. 

♡ enjoys when you put your hands under his shirt and just leave them there and hug him like that. skin to skin contact is elite but only from you. 

♡ hamsters adore this man. they just do. 

♡ draws frowny faces on your eggs with hot-sauce 

♡ soul leaves his body when you play with his hair and scratch his scalp. the tension in his neck literally disappears and he just sighs that shit relaxes him like crazy 

♡ the first time he says i love you, you’re tying his tie for his first hero event. you’re telling him to that the color looks good on him and you’re smiling. it honestly it just slips. he went on to win an award that night. 

♡ his favorite memory of the two of you was when you were trying to leave the grocery store one afternoon. it was raining heavy as shit. you pulled him in under your clear umbrella and just stood there. he doesn’t know why but that means a lot to him. 

♡ cares a lot about his dads approval on his work specifically. him and his dad have a really specifc bond and he actually admires him quite a bit. 

♡ nothing makes him cry like “im proud of you”. especially when it’s for something small. it’s just something he didn’t hear enough in a sincere way. 

♡ likes fruit flavored sweets over chocolate (generally needs something to do w his mouth cause it helps him think. bad oral fixation) so he keeps little candies on him 

♡ shit at video games. terrible at them with the exception of mario kart? for some reason. 

♡ always loses his keys 

♡ stutters every!single!time! he tries to compliment you. it’s been YEARS. 

♡ takes a melatonin gummy before bed and always drinks a glass of water 

♡ buys you flowers and keeps them too. like does the upkeep on it and replaces them if the wilt. suggests pressing them to keep them for longer. 

♡ lowkey cries really easily. he just gets overwhelmed w his feelings some times and it makes him cry even if he doesn’t want too. you and the bakusquad are sworn to secrecy over it though 

♡ wears his ring around his neck on a chain bc it’s easier to show off. 

♡ naturally good at doing hair! 

♡ likes sneakers but wears dr. scholl's because he walks a lot and is on his feet for most of the day w his job. just being careful. 

♡ loves u a lot <3 

[thesedangeroustemptations]

Baki Boy’s and a fearless/overly-outspoken s/o

Hi y’all! This is my very first headcanon and it’s something that just came to mind while insomnia decided sleep wasn’t allowed. Some are going to have a S/O who speaks out and acts the way they do due to past feelings of restriction and inability to do so, and some are just personality traits in general so a small TW is in order I suppose. I hope you all like it! 

Baki: 

At first, he had no idea how to deal with that. He was used to Kozue who would only ever speak on her feelings when pressed for them, so when he saw his S/O immediately snap back at Yujiro for his comments and general way of being unprompted, he felt a bit of fear for their safety but also a swelling of pride began to grow in his chest. 

He knew they were free spirited and spoke their mind from the beginning, what was apart of what drew Baki to them in the first place, but in the face of The Ogre? 

He was shocked to say the least and every alarm in his head was going off to get them out of there before they ended up dead, but Yujiro simply laughed, smirked at his son and gave him a dark warning.

“Don’t let them bark harder than you can bite, that might just be what puts them down.”

The longer that they spent together, the more accustomed to their general ease with saying whatever floated through their head at the time, and lack of care for the outcome of what was said/done. 

This has lead to more than a few occasions where Baki has had to pick them up and sprint away from the situation to keep from having to beat someone’s face into an unrecognizable pulp the second an advance was made in the direction of his S/O.

He comes to appreciate their honesty and finds it easier to be around them compared to other people due to the low probability of them hiding anything from him, and it being far easier for him to tell when something is wrong.

Will ask their opinions when making big decisions because he knows they have no fear going forward in life and will tell him their exact thought process regardless of whether it fits with what he’s wanting. To them, it’s what’s best not what is wanted if you’re asking their opinion.

Would support them saying whatever is on their mind/heart, but worries for their safety when he isn’t around to watch out for them.

Loves them for them regardless of if they lack the ability to keep their feelings to themselves while Baki himself is rather reserved.

Jack:

To say he was surprised to have this tiny (anything is compared to him-) individual he hadn’t seen before snap at him for hogging the bench press during his routine workout at his favored gym would be an understatement. 

The man was an absolute giant who towered over even the tallest of men and could easily break most in half, yet here this tiny firecracker was getting angry at him. An interesting development indeed.

From then on, he set out to make it his mission to get to know this unique person. For someone to get his eye off of getting stronger and defeating his father is an award all it’s own, but for him to actively chase them was an entirely different thing. 

Does eventually win them over through a mixture of gentlemanly behavior and healthy sarcasm, while proving he’s a trustworthy person to hold their heart and guard it.

Jack found himself growing protective over them when he witnessed them exchanging heated words followed by blows over a dispute in a bar he miraculously found himself at the same time as them.

He decided that moment he was going to make them his, and he was going to keep them safe forever, especially from Yujiro. 

Hundred percent would do his best to keep them separate, but Yujiro, being Yujiro, would find a way to make his son’s life harder and intervene, belittling him in some way around his S/O and that would be the end of it. 

Jack thought he had seen them go off before? Oh, no, no. Not when it came to someone they care about deeply. They started spewing every insult they could think of at the red-headed Hanma giant, feeling not an ounce of fear in their body- that’s because all of it entered Jack’s the moment they opened their mouth.

Used every bit of endurance he built up to grab them and run as far as he could in as quick a pace as possible to get them to safety. 

Knows there’s no way he can change them, and that he wouldn’t want to. Their outspokenness was what made him fall for them after all. 

Katsumi:

This man has a thing for outspoken S/O who takes charge, he may seem like an alpha male but he would instantly fold the moment his beloved gives him the look. Is not to afraid to admit this and chalks it up to his love and respect for their opinions. 

Instantly fell for them the moment they entered Shin Shin Kai in a full-blown fit, eyes raging, nostrils slightly flaring and sights set on a member of his class. Obviously they did something wrong, but when he approached to find out exactly what was going on as any teacher would, he was instantly shut down. 

“I’m not here for you, so if you don’t want your head bit off, I’d stay the fuck out of my way”

Needless to say, he was intrigued at this type of response from someone so much smaller than him, in his own father’s dojo, and after a few more prodding questions and standing in the way of what they wanted, he got the answers he was wanting as to what was going on. 

Being the relatively peaceful guy he was, Katsumi managed to calm down the situation while somehow getting a date out of the whole scenario.

 Everyone thought he was crazy for wanting to go out with someone as outspoken and rude like that, but he saw beyond that. He could see there was someone fearless and thoughtful under there, and he wanted to see what else was buried beneath the surface. 

Man, was it worth it. They didn’t fear anything it seemed, always willing to try new activities with Katsumi and his friends, be it new roller-coaster to cliff-jumping on their days off at the ocean, it didn’t matter. They were always up for it, the acts seemingly bringing them closer each time. 

He grew to love and respect them greatly, reminding them daily how much he admires their ability to speak their mind without fear and has no issue setting anyone straight regardless of who it is.

Would never admit it to their face or out loud but he really worries about them when he’s gone, knowing that not everyone can see the kind person they are inside and could easily take their words or actions the wrong way.

One of the few who actually trains his S/O in martial arts, even just the basics, to keep themselves safe when he isn’t around. 

Doyle: 

Oh boy. 

This idiot would be voted most likely to attempt to kill his S/O for opening their mouth about how he doesn’t seem as tough as everyone is making him out to be. 

Has the hardest time out of all of the men to adapt to having a S/O who speaks whatever comes in their mind and letting him know exactly what they think of his actions, good or bad. This is not something he is used to and not being able to just leave or kill the person saying it was something that was completely new to him. 

Would be the definition of opposites attract. Doyle is known for being more reserved, keeps things to himself and generally reminds others of a cat with his observant and quiet behavior. In comes his lover who is open about her thoughts and feelings regardless of who asks, will shout and loudly express themselves when upset or frustrated, and is basically a dog personified. 

Doyle catches himself watching their surroundings more cautiously when they go out due to not knowing exactly what is going to slip out of his lovers mouth, and being fully prepared to cut the tongue out of anyone who dared breath in their direction wrong.

Eventually he learns what will set off his S/O quicker and what is the best ways to calm them down when they are feeling like they need to be heard about a certain scenario. 

He’s a very observant man, and when spending nearly everyday with a person he cares for, he will swiftly find ways to make things easier for them without their noticing. He can’t have them thinking he cares too much. 

Around the other inmates or Yujiro Hanma is the only time Doyle feels any inclination of fear, prompting a fight, flight, or freeze response to which he typically chooses the middle option with his S/O in toe. 

He would rather be viewed as a coward for fleeing with what is his than lose it because they don’t have the ability to keep their damn mouth shut for someone looking at either of them wrong. 

Would enjoy having a S/O who expresses what they’re feeling, but would hope for one who had some sentiment of common sense so he didn’t have to constantly worry. 

Retsu: 

Probably handles them the best out of all of the boys to be honest. 

Is used to hotheaded and outspoken people himself already (*cough* Katsumi *cough*), while also having been one in his past, Retsu is the most suited to dealing with their outbursts and reckless actions due to a lack of fear. 

Likely met his S/O while in Japan for the Maximum Tournament and overheard them going off in the distance about something that was a passion of theirs that they felt had been disrespected. 

Retsu could relate given his overprotective nature in regards to his Chinese Kenpo, so when he saw them chest to chest, red-faced and still going at it while showing no signs of backing down, he knew he had to step in and defuse the situation before their beautiful/handsome face was ruined over an argument.

Has no problem with letting them rant and rave about things their passionate about or that bothered them throughout the day/week that they managed to hold in for Retsu’s sake.

Expresses his feeling the easiest out of the men except for possibly a tie with Baki, so makes it known that he worries for their safety and wants them to try their best to keep it together while they’re apart, being rewarded with whatever treat they would like followed by cuddles and a venting session. 

Comes up with different means for them to let out their frustrations with the world without having to blow up on everyone/everything that upsets them; i.e. gives them swearing coloring books to create art out of every swear word/insult they could think of.

Doesn’t want his S/O to keep things inside or to change, he just simply wants them to learn there is a time and a place for going off about things you’re passionate about, but when faced with the strongest being in the world? That is not the time, and even someone like Retsu, who believed that nothing could beat Chinese Kenpo, could recognize that.  

If things ever got heated out in public and his S/O began to argue with another person, don’t think for a second that Retsu wouldn’t break a man’s jaw for talking to his love with any kind of bass in their voice.

Loves and accepts his S/O for who they are, but is likely to help try and gently mother hen them into channeling that into a healthier outcome. 

[writingquestionsanswered]

Tattoo Shop AU - a quick, practical guide for writers

Guest Post by lebanon-hangover

lebanon-hangover said: this is based on my personal experience with the industry only, so depending on the era and country you are portraying, it may not be 100% accurate for your setting.

Hygiene

It may not be obvious at first glance, but most tattooists are clean freaks. We work with human blood every day, and we get clients from all ages, ethnic and social economic backgrounds, with all sorts of medical conditions.

We usually mop frequently, bleach the sinks, wipe down everything, and use cling film or bags to wrap everything. I mean fucking everything. We also scrub in, and sanitise the area on the person we work on.

Needles are collected in a sharps bin, and handled very carefully. Medical waste goes in yellow bags, and both are collected by a professional service.

Used ink caps may look full, but the ink gets diluted by blood. Like you dip the inky needle into the person, but you also dip the person’s blood into your ink. These are medical waste too.

Cleaning up must be done promptly after the session. Bin everything disposable, put things through the ultrasonic and the autoclave, and sanitise the area. We may take machines apart, but more for maintenance than cleaning, sometimes we swap parts in them too.

We have two sinks, one for hand washing, one for cleaning.

All inks and needles have use by dates.

The internal dynamics of a studio

Depending on the country, some tattoo shops tend to have ties to biker gangs, and some of those internal dynamics and unwritten rules are often present.

There’s a pecking order and it’s dead serious. Basically the longer you’ve been in a shop, the higher ‘rank’ you are, you get the better positioned stations, first pick of walk-ins, etc (Unless the client is asking for someone by name). Regardless of your actual experience in the industry, like if you move into your old apprentice’s shop, they are still senior to you. If the owner or their partner is an artist, obviously they are on top of the chain by default.

We are self employed, but we have a boss. You are only making money if you are working, but you still have set work hours.

We get paid by the clients, and we pay the studio a cut. In return, there are some items provided by them, and some we buy for ourselves. Usually the chairs, tattoo beds, gloves, cleaning products, clip cord covers, masks, aprons, ink caps, vaseline, green soap, and some basic ink is provided by the shop. We buy our own machines, arm rests, stations, pedals, power supplies, clipcords, tips and grips, needles, special colours, stencil fluid…these are a personal preference, and often depend on the artists’ style.

We totally ask to try out each other’s equipment sometimes, or ask for a certain type of needle if we ran out.

The receptionist is usually just one of us, maybe a piercer, but it also can be a hired person in top studios.

The apprentice in the traditional system is often mistreated, and they have to pay for their education, have to be there multiple days a week and don’t make any money. It’s kind of like a tear them down, build them back up again thing to see if they are really serious about the job. Times are slowly changing, but 99% of them will always need a second job. Most of them are working as bar staff.

When you open a new studio, you must visit all the existing local ones and introduce yourself, otherwise you may get a brick through the window. Otherwise there’s not much beef among individual artists, they are often friends, go to conventions together and party after, etc.

The Artists

Tattooing is a fairly physical job, stretching skin is very important. We have to also keep our clients safely still, so we often use positions to pin them down a bit. Sometimes you hit a reflex point on the foot or under a knee, and you don’t want to get kicked. Sometimes you have to pull away super fast, cos they are sneezing, yawning or giggling.

Most tattooists drink a lot of coffee, tea or energy drinks.

Some people are all rounders, some have specific styles, but we recognise each other’s art styles. Sometimes we delegate work to each other, if we think our coworkers style fits the concept better. For example if there’s a person who does script well, we give them those projects.

We don’t like when people come in with designs from other artists. Art theft is frowned upon, and we work best with our own drawings.

Most apprentices practice on their own legs, and sometimes we tattoo each other when it’s quiet. Most people have cover ups, or bad pieces from their early days. The artists’ own tattoos sometimes are in a different style than what they do, but we like to collect ink from friends or colleagues we admire.

In the first 1-2 years one is an apprentice, then junior artist. At 5-8 years of tattooing, you have earned your stripes and are considered an experienced artist.

Conventions are really fun, but can be stressful. You can make good money working at one, and sometimes get awarded for it too. We can also spend a lot at a convention.

Sometimes we poke our fingers by accident, and it’s a scary thing. Good case scenario is just some random dots on your fingers. Let’s not go into the bad case scenario.

We do guest spots sometimes, just to meet new clients, and change it up a bit.

We spend a lot of time drawing up things, and designs are meant to fall on specific muscles, stretch with the skin a certain way, so they are tailored to the body proportions of the client. A good tattoo is also an optical illusion, complimenting the body shape.

Social media presence is like a second job, you need good photos, and you need to market yourself.

Tattoo ink does not wash out, so some stains are inevitable when pouring it out. Those ink bottles get stuck so easily, and we wrestle them a lot. We try to avoid it, but wearing all dark colours is a thing for a reason.

The Clients

Tattooists need to have a good ‘bedside manners’ too. We get nervous or self conscious people, and we are told personal things during long sessions. For example scar coverups and memorial pieces can be very emotional.

We have pretty good poker faces and first aid trainings. People can faint, get shaky, throw up, some have seizures, have b.o., get sweaty, etc the same way as at a blood donation event? It’s no big deal really. We sit them down, give them some water and some sugar, and re-book them if necessary. Most artists keep some wet wipes, mouth wash, deodorant, sweets, maybe even some clean clothes at work, just in case.

If someone comes in with a wild idea for a jobstopper, we would sit down and have a long talk. If they haven’t got many tattoos, we usually try to stir them towards more safe choices, offering them creative ideas. It’s like those jedi mind tricks sometimes.

If someone is undecided, we show them our own hand drawn flash sheets. Once its gone, its gone tho, we don’t use the designs twice.

Pinterest is full of photoshopped fake tattoos, some that won’t even work as real ink. Many people also touch up their work digitally on photos, so some clients have really unrealistic expectations.

We can totally tell if someone is intoxicated or hangover. It thins the blood, and they bleed out the ink, and it’s super annoying. if it’s bad, they will be sent home and rebooked.

Some folks are self conscious about body hair, their size, stretch marks and scars. Chances are, we have seen similar, and we aren’t bothered by it, because it’s work. Surgery scars, scars from accidents, self harm scars, burns, we see it all the time. We shave some really hairy dudes all the time girl, your legs are fine. Seriously. If something makes tattooing you dangerous we will tell you.

Fit, muscular people are harder to tattoo because they are really firm. Its a workout for us.

Everyone gets midnight messages about the aftercare from nervous clients, and drunken booty calls about getting inked right at this second. We have copy paste replies…

We get creeps sometimes. Stalking, weird conversations, tmi info dumps etc.

Other things to include (for fun, or for plot reasons)

We sometimes have those “oh fuck” moments. We all do, but mistakes can be fixed, and we play it cool.

Tattooing takes time. Usually 30 minutes to multiple sessions though years and years.

Healing tattoos takes about 2-4ish weeks, and your characters shouldn’t go roll around in dirt, sunbathe, swim, pick at the scabs. Nasty infections, and messed up tattoos would be the results.

If you have a strong immune system, and you get a lot of work done in one sitting, you may get a brief bit of a temperature. It’s normal, and will go away.

Its a lot easier to get seriously drunk after getting a tattoo. Be careful.

We sometimes draw on each other for practice with our marker pens.

Tattoos are inside the skin, not on top of it. Imagine a low opacity, skin toned layer over the ink, adding to the healed tattoos’ colour. Please stop making your characters skin fully transparent.

Heavy blackwork and palms are done in multiple sessions.

You can’t cover up moles, because if they develop skin cancer, the dermatologist can’t see the signs.

There’s a stereotype about piercers having blacked out sleeves.

Stencil fluid looks just like cum.

You get that annoying itch on your face when you scrubbed in, put on gloves and finally ready to go.

Some artists have a strong preference for coil or rotary machines, and they bicker about it a lot. Coils are louder, more punchy, and more traditional, perfect for lineart. They can be customised, and they last forever. They are also called glorified doorbells by people who prefer rotaries. Rotary machines are smoother, lighter, and often use needles that are pulled back into the cartridges for safety. They are better for shading and delicate line work. Older tattooists often say they are dildo or butt plug shaped, overly delicate and are for “soft millennials” only.

Every artist owns like 5 to 20 machines, and they have specific machine builders they are loyal to.

The “which cable is broken and cutting out” guessing game. Clip cords and pedal cables get worn out easily, and that results in your machine running really jerky.

Walk-in always show up 10 minutes before closing.

We often look quite silly at work. Sleeves rolled up, folks use all sorts of plastic ppe, headlamps, and we tie up our hair. Add couple of purple smears from carbon paper, and we aren’t scary at all.

[astaroth1357]

A Demon Has Claimed My Soul! (Among Other Things…)

Your Guide to Possessive Demons!

So you've made a pact with a demonic hellspawn, the powers of which are beyond your comprehension, and now you want to become an item? Fantastic! Love can still be found even in the most unholy of unions! However, there are some very important things that any human should know before giving themselves away to the forces of Hell and that is what we here at Mammoney, Inc. plan to provide! In our award-winning guide, A Demon Has Claimed My Soul! (Among Other Things…), you will receive a comprehensive overview of the possessive behaviors of your new lover as well as the Dos and Don'ts for keeping your relationship on track! Remember, your satisfaction is a definite possibility! 

(Mammoney, Inc. accepts no responsibility for injuries caused due to taking our advice. No refunds accepted, terms and conditions apply).

Lucifer

Lucifer, huh? Are you sure you really want to go through with that, human? He’s really no fun at parties, hell no fun in general! But if you’re into being told what to do all the time then he’s probably a dream come true so whatever floats your boat...

If you decide to start a relationship with Lucifer, the first thing to know is he plans to have you and keep you. Once you've gone down this road there’s no going back now, human.

Lucifer will show his possessiveness most often through stating it outright. He will be pretty blunt about claiming who you now belong to and isn't shy to tell that to others too. Get used to the reminders.

He’ll do those old school kind of moves like letting you wear his coat over your shoulders or keeping a hand on your waist. He doesn’t have to do all that much more because no one would be dumb enough to try anything after he’s staked his claim.

DO: Pretty much anything he says

DON’T: Defy him, ignore his requests, or piss off Diavolo.

Leviathan 

Levi? Really? You know he hasn’t left his room in centuries right? And you’d be playing second fiddle to an actual anime character? In our astute opinion, human, this ain’t a good choice.

Levi is the Avatar of Envy so he’s going to be pretty possessive at all times. If you’re going to choose with him then just know that he won’t be letting you go any time soon… Literally. He will cling to you like his life depends on it.

Levi’s primarily going to show his possessiveness of you through being hostile to others like a pissed off snake. 

Any time that you’re not alone together he’ll be on edge or glaring at everyone around you. If someone gets too chummy he might start hissing until they back off. He won’t actually do anything unless someone tries to make a move, but if they do get out of the way in case he summons Lotan.

DO: Stay close to him (especially in public), let him hold your hand or stay on his arm, keep conversations with other people short, and always tell him if you’re going out to meet someone.

DON’T: Basically wander off anywhere without telling him first, flirt with anybody else while he’s watching, scratch that, just don’t be overly nice to anybody while he’s watching. Not even the Chihuahua. 

Satan

Okay so yeah Satan is smart, but all those smiles are hella phony! He really ain’t as nice as he looks and… What we mean to say is, Satan will act nice to lure you in but you better watch out, human.

Satan can act pretty chill when he wants to so he might not come off as all that possessive for a while. But the second he sees someone acting a little too close with you he’ll snap and start shouting at them. Doesn’t matter who it is or why, he won’t be able to stop himself.

When he does show his possessiveness he is shameless, almost as bad as Asmo, because then he’s trying to make a point to someone or other. PDA for days, but he’ll be glancing at whoever he’s trying to piss off like an asshole…

Satan's the guy who'd leave a lot of marks on you like bruises and hickies to speak for him when he ain't around.

DO: Get used to PDA, invest in sweaters, borrow Asmo's concealer.

DON’T: Do anything that pisses him off. (For more on this, consider purchasing our other guide: How To Calm My Demon Boyfriend)

Asmodeus 

Oh come on, Asmo??? Human, be real for a moment! He’s never gonna be faithful to you at all, I mean we’re all demons so it’s not like we really care all that much but humans care doncha?? You could pick better is all I’m-er We’re saying!

Asmo is going to cling to you about as much as Levi but that’s because he wants attention, not because he’s jealous or anything. He really won’t get possessive of you until someone tries to tell him he can’t be around you for whatever reason. Then he’ll whine, complain, and make a scene until he gets his way.

Asmo will show he owns you by trying to make you into practically the same person. Not in personality, just in appearance.

He’ll start by buying a lot of matching or very… Asmo-looking clothes and jewelry for you to wear. He’ll look for any excuse to put you in his outfits or make sure you use the same perfumes so you smell like each other all the time. Demons have sensitive noses so that’s as good as marking you for his.

DO: Wear the clothes and don’t complain, tell him what sort of style you’d prefer so he can pick more of what you want, try not to get annoyed by his diva act

DONT: Wear somethin' else without telling him, have sex with anyone else without permission first (who knows, ya may get it with him), ignore him. Ever.

Beelzebub 

…. Just a friendly reminder that he could eat you.

Beel isn’t going to come off as possessive of ya until he starts getting lonely. He’s pretty busy with practices and taking care of his appetite, but if he starts feelin’ like you haven’t been paying enough attention to him, he’s gonna get needy and want ya around more. 

He can be pretty childish about it, really. If someone comes over and asks if you want to go do something he’ll just pick ya up and tell them no. He’ll put ya down if you make a fuss about it but he’ll get grouchy so you’ll have to make it up to’em later.

If he’s feeling lonely, he’ll invite you out for food a lot more and try to keep you away from his brothers. He won’t even like you talking to Belphie. It’ll pass after a couple days, so just sit tight and things will go back to normal soon enough.

DO: Feed him. Constantly.

DON'T: Stop feeding him. Ever. Or look too delicious.

Belphegor 

Okay we all know what makes him a bad choice, so let’s not even go there! Honestly human, have some survival instinct, will ya??

Belphie will take the clingy route of always wanting to be around ya, but if he wants to go nap or somethin’ he'll just take ya with him. Doesn't matter whatcha doin'. If he wants ya there, he'll drag ya along too.

Belphie’s gonna be passive-aggressive about his possessiveness when others are involved, a lot of stare downs and lookin’ annoyed. He won’t tell’em to piss off like Beel would but there’d a general aura of “Go the Hell Away” around him so it’s gonna be around you too.  

If you two aren’t sharing a nap together then expect him to lean on ya a lot, probably with his head on your shoulder. Don’t stand still for too long ‘cause he will fall asleep like that and then you're stuck draggin’ his dead weight.

DO: Get used to being a pillow and not going anywhere for long periods of time.

DON’T: Keep him up too long, wake him up early, or toss and turn in bed.

Mammon

Obviously, the Great and Powerful Mammon is really the best choice, human. It's clear ya got a good head on your shoulders and that’s a good sign. But for the sake of being helpful, we will still give ya advice, for your sake and mi-… his.

The Great Mammon knows how lost and pathetic you’d be if he wasn’t around so he’ll take it on himself to be sure you’ve always got someone to help ya. Don’t go thinkin’ that he’s just lonely and lookin’ for a little comfort, ‘cause that Ain’t! It! And don’t go letting any of his brothers try pullin’ the same crap because he’s the only one who’s allowed to do that, ya hear??

The Great Mammon doesn’t need to act possessive because everyone will already know you’re his!... Okay, sometimes they need a refresher but there ain’t nothing wrong with that!

You'll never have to worry about his brothers botherin' you because he’ll always be there to scare'em off. He’s your first man so he better get priority and doncha go forgettin’ it! It's gotta be you and him against the world, got it?

DO: Show the Great Mammon appreciation for his time, "appreciation" can be cash, gimme cash.

DONT: Forget about the Great Mammon, ignore the Great Mammon, refuse to gimme cash.

[levixreader]

Levi x K-Pop Reader - It's not what it looks like - Chapter III

Summary: A dinner turned into a friendship. Friends could hold hands, right? Friends also disliked gameshow contestants who couldn’t keep their hands off you, right? Yeah, just friends.

Request by anonymous

Previous Chapter | Master List | Requests | Next Chapter | Chapter I

It's not what it looks like

《 Chapter III 》

He had picked a very nice restaurant; The rose on the wall. It was a very private, exclusive restaurant that, despite its minimal marketing, had a waiting list of at least a month. You had been a couple of times at the restaurant, their menu changed monthly. It was one of your favourites. “Guess being CFO does have its perks”, you thought following the host, Levi walked in front of you. His suit was well-tailored, you could see his shoulders, they were broader than what you had remembered, then again, you had been basically straddling him when you had looked at them. A small shy blush coloured the tip of your nose.

“Is the usual table alright Mr Ackerman?”, the host asked. Levi looked back at you for a second and smiled, “Yes, thank you Loui”, Levi responded returning his eyes to the front. Your cheeks coloured. “The usual”, you echoed. So, he was here often. Well, at least he had taste. Levi stopped, the host opening what had previously looked like part of the wall. You stopped almost tripping against Levi’s back. There was no chance of you repeating the embarrassing moment again, ever. Levi nodded at the host and stepping inside the private room with you trailing closely behind. There was a waiter already inside pulling out a chair for you to sit on. You paused. In front of you was a wall of windows, a view of the city greeting you. It was beautiful. You could see the small lights from the buildings glimmering like stars, small red lights sprinkled around. The roads lit by the moving cars. The sky was dark, a dark blue background. Your eyes widened. It was like a painting had come to life.

“Is this nice enough for an apology?”, Levi’s deep husky voice called your attention. You turned to look at him, awe written all over your face, he was smirking. As quickly as you could you sat on the offered chair. Once sited, you cleared your throat, “If we order wine, then perhaps”, you said playfully. He propped his head against the palm of his hand, his smirk widening. He called the waiter behind you with his free hand. “Is red okay?”, he asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. You met his silver gaze, “You’re the expert”, you answered as casually as you could. He smirked again “Submissive”, he mused, “A bottle of the usual”, he ordered, his eyes never leaving yours. You swallowed a little nervously.

* * *

He frowned; his eyes glued to the tv above him.

He didn’t like it.

“That was incredible!”, Hange called out, louder than need be, from the seat next to him. He could feel unwanted eyes on their table. “Stupid shitty glasses”, he thought inhaling the double whiskey he had been holding the entire time.

It hadn’t been incredible.

She twisted to look at him, he knew what was going to happen next. He closed his eyes bracing himself for the impact. “Do you think you can ask her for concert tickets?!”, she asked excitement bouncing from her every word. Her chair wiggled, as she restlessly waited for an answer. “No”, he said firmly. There was no way he would ask you for tickets for stupid Hange, it would mean he would also need to go. After what had happened six months ago, there was no way he was going. “Please?, shouted Hange, earning them more looks, she looked at him pouting and her eyes opened as wide as she could. “What the fuck kind of stupid face are you making”, Levi called out signalling for a waiter. “Oh common, when she does it, it works!”, Hange complained, pointing at the TV raised so that people around the bar could see.

Sure enough, Levi’s eyes returned to the TV, his frown back in place.

You were still on the screen, the boy next to you still holding your shoulder. His eyes willed his finger to break in half. You looked happy, holding some sort of award. It was a game show and your team had evidently won whatever stupidity they had you doing. “No, it doesn’t”, Levi said calmly, nodding at the waiter he had called bringing him another whiskey. “It’s okay to admit you love her”, Hange said nonchalantly. He could have choked on his drink. His eyes widened and his face swinging abruptly to look at his ‘friend’. “I am not in love with her”, he barked, more panicked than angry. He wasn’t in love with someone who had her face plastered in shaving cream and smiled. You were a million years too early for that. “Sure~”, dismissed Hange with a hand as she finished her beer and stared at the TV. His attention returned to the TV; his eyes narrowed.

You were hugging the boy.

His eyes trailed as you exited the stage.

He groaned, gulping the rest of his whiskey.

He was going to need another one if he was going to convince anyone that he wasn’t at least jealous. His phone lit up. His eyes lazily turn to observe the thing.

Did you watch it?

It was a text. He groaned again, signalling the same waiter again. He wasn’t in the mood to answer but, he knew you had been very excited for him to watch you on TV. He picked up his phone reluctantly answering.

Yes.

Simple and short.

“Is that her?”, Hange asked with renewed enthusiasm. Levi grunted in response.

Did you like it?

Pinged his phone. “Is it?”, Hange insisted shuffling her chair closer to his. No, he hadn’t like it.

You looked stupid.

He answered curtly. “Let me see!”, came Hange’s whine. He moved his body, shielding his screen from her prying eyes. You send him a pouting emoji. He pictured you pouting, the corner of his mouth lifted up. “WHY ARE YOU SMILING???”, Hange squirmed desperately trying to look at his phone.

Where are you?

Another text.

Rose Bar

He answered. “Tell her to come!”, Hange managed to say, Levi’s hand firmly on her cheek keeping her as far away from him as possible.

See you in 20

His screen lit up again, his earlier anger melting right off. “Yeah, she’s coming”, he said calmly. “Really???”, came Hange, “yes, now get off”, he said giving her a harsh shove. “I still can’t believe you’re dating a k-star”, she said her hands on the table trying to stabilize herself. “We’re not dating”, Levi corrected.

Truthfully, he didn’t know what you were.

“I’ll tell her you said that”, she screamed making Levi roll his eyes in contempt. “Mind your own business shitty glasses”, Levi warned, the waiter bringing him his third double whiskey.

True to your word, you appeared at Rose Bar twenty minutes later.

“Look”, whispered Hange pulling on Levi’s dress shirt. He turned per her request; his eyes landed on you. You were in ‘disguise’ today. He could still see a lot of men in the bar staring at you. You looked a bit out of place. The Rose was bar mostly frequented by high position office workers, and you, well, with your black shorts, thigh-high boots and thick sunglasses, obviously didn’t belong there. He groaned, his eyes lingering a little too long on the hem of your boots.

“Oi!”, screamed Hange, catching your attention. You smiled and trotted towards them, sitting next to Levi. “Hey!”, you greeted, smile still in place. Hange’s eyes twinkled, “That was awesome!”, she cheered making you smile even wider. His eyebrows knitted together. “I can’t believe you won too!”, Hange continued. “I know! It was Mingyu, really… I did nothing”, you explained, stretching your legs from beneath the table.

Mingyu

So that was the boy who was touching you so much’s name. His frown deepened.

“You looked stupid”, he said repeating his earlier comment. You rolled your eyes already used to his brashness, “Yeah but I won!”, you argued. He sipped his fourth whiskey, you stared at him waiting for any kind of reaction. He could feel both yours and Hange’s eyes drilling holes into him. He sighed, “Congratulations”, he finally said caving in. You smiled triumphantly, “Thank you”. You turned to rummage through your purse, now Levi’s turn to patiently watch as you scrambled around the small thing.

“Here!”, you said pulling out two neon tickets. Hange’s eyes widen, Levi’s closed. “Are those-”, Hange said her hands inching towards your raised one. “Yes!”, you said eagerly. “No way!”, Hange said finally reaching your fingers. You grinned letting her take the tickets. “Levi look!”, Hange cried, shaking Levi. He sighed opening his eyes and regarding the overly large tickets on her hands. “Your not girlfriend got us tickets to the Laker's basketball game!!”, Hange mused still in disbelief.

“Girlfriend?”, you asked your head coking sideways. Levi turned to look at you taking advantage of Hange’s dace. “When is it?”, he asked making you smile. “In a week”, you answered proudly, “You’re coming, right?”, he could see the hope in your eyes. How could he say no? He sighed, “Sure”. Before he knew it you had thrown yourself, looping your hands around his neck, squeezing him as hard as you could. This was a rare sight of public intimacy.

Carefully you let go of his neck and settled back into your seat. Levi was careful not to touch you intimately in public, opting for lingering stares and grabbing your hand under tables, like he was going to do now. You felt his rough fingers on your thigh, it made you jolt. You could never get quite used to the roughness of his fingertips. “You don’t mind then?”, you asked, your own fingers finding his hand. His silver eyes stared at you, “mind what?”, he asked absentmindedly, enjoying how soft your hands felt. “Because it’s so public”, you clarify lacing your fingers with his. He hummed in response practically feeling you pout. You wanted a more verbal answer. “Hange is coming too”, he added caving, once again, to your whims. His other hand raising the short glass of whiskey to his lips. “I suppose”, you answered squeezing lightly his hand.

He didn’t know how this happened and to be fair, you didn’t either. One dinner turned into an exploration of the city and a concerto invitation. One outing turned to five and the next thing he knew he was calling you to talk about his day. Of course, you had given a joint press interview explaining the situation. The stories hadn’t stopped but at least the narrative did, instead of secret rendezvous and romantic conspiracies, the internet became obsessed with the unlikely friendship that had budded from the whole ordeal.

But, one night, when he was headed towards your apartment to drop you off, you had been staring out the window, the soft white light from the moon showering your features, his eyes had lingered and he knew. He liked you. He could see your hand laying on the middle section, manicured white nails relaxed. It was an impulse really. He inched his hand towards you, you didn’t flinch, so he grabbed it. His own face impassively looking out his own window now. You gripped his hand back, opening your fingers to allow his between yours.

That’s all it took. You never spoke about it. But every time you met up with him, you looked for his hand, for his callous fingers to touch you, to heat up your skin in a way that only he knew how to do.

“This is awesome!”, squealed Hange finally coming out of her daze. You breathed out, grey eyes still on you, “Yeah, awesome”, you echoed not really paying attention to her anymore.

[sadclearance]

two petty cowards

pairing: izaya orihara x male!reader

summary: two petty cowards meet again at a funeral.

category: smut(?), fluff(?), angst(?) man i suck at categorizing

warning(s): sexual content, oral sex, dry humping, implied/referenced death (non-graphic)

word count: 2722

key:

italicized - thoughts

past tense - past

present tense - present

two petty cowards stand a few feet apart, avoiding each other at a mutual friend's funeral.

izaya thinks back to how it all started.

it was a rainy day, just like this one.

"trouble seems to always follow you," y/n sighed as he trailed behind izaya. he'd given up on trying to keep the ends of his pants dry a while ago.

"don't be deceived, i'm the one that's causing the trouble," izaya gave a cheeky smile even though he knew that y/n couldn't see it.

"c'mon," y/n said as he grabbed izaya's arm and dragged him into a convenience store.

"am i being kidnapped?"

"if that's what you wanna call it," y/n shrugged. "you're all scuffed up. we need... rubbing alcohol? cotton balls? bandages?"

"you're the one who brought me here, but you don't even know what to get?" izaya let out an amused laugh.

"i don't know... i just know that your face looks pretty bad right now," y/n turned away from him, embarrassed by his lack of knowledge.

"are you saying my face usually looks pretty good?" izaya asked teasingly.

"maybe i am."

izaya was taken aback for just one moment. he knew y/n thought he couldn't see his flustered red face, but izaya had a clear view of it in the reflection of the window.

the reaction wasn't what was surprising. rather, it was his words.

for years, izaya had known that y/n went along with everything he did because he was crushing on him. anybody would've been able to tell just by watching the way y/n reacted to the slightest brushing of shoulders and how he felt the need to follow him everywhere to "keep him out of trouble", even though they both knew that wasn't possible.

yet, for all these years, y/n had never said anything to hint at it. izaya knew that y/n didn't think he knew about these feelings. that just because he never said anything that might've even hinted at the fact that he held feelings for him, he was a brilliant secret keeper. that his actions weren't a dead giveaway.

y/n grabbed one of everything even remotely related to medical care and checked out.

izaya made his way out of the store, not bothering to keep the door open for y/n, who was carrying everything with both of his hands, as he couldn't afford the cheap plastic bag.

he had done this many times before, and y/n never complained.

"stay still," y/n said. they had gotten to their shared residence, an idea that was brought up ten years ago by a then bold thirteen year old y/n, ignored by the thirteen year old izaya who was only concerned with his "neither too close nor too far" philosophy, then officially proposed by an eighteen year old izaya.

"it stings," izaya flinched more than he normally would've. y/n's face was so close to his, staring intensely at the wounds on his face, holding izaya's chin with one hand to keep him still while he cleaned his wounds with the other.

he wondered why his face wasn't red. from izaya's previous observations, when a guy liked a girl, his face would heat up just at the thought of him being close enough to kiss her at any moment, especially if she was sitting on his bed... so why? guy on guy crushes couldn't be that different, could it?

"maybe he'll jack off to his sheets when i leave," izaya thought to himself. such thoughts would be vulgar to anybody else, but izaya only asked himself if he should bring out his old surveillance cameras. "it would be fun to watch his desires and morals fight."

"maybe the pain will finally be enough to keep you from bugging shizuo," y/n said, knowing that that wouldn't be happening any time soon. it was a playful remark, but izaya could hear the poorly hidden worry in his voice.

he felt a certain incomprehensible feeling inside of him, knowing that y/n was so focused on fussing about his wounds that he couldn't even think about his desires for him.

"that'll just add to the thrill," izaya replied with a sly smile. he put his hands behind him so that he would be able to lean on them, pulling back not too far but not too little, trying to see if the shy maiden in love would risk subtly chasing after him or let him go that easily.

y/n's hand stayed on his jaw.

he craned his neck to the left and slightly back, his gaze bound to make y/n overly conscious sooner or later.

as he had expected, his sultry expression combined with the way he had positioned himself, baring the nape of his neck and letting his shirt slide up, revealing the slightest bit of his stomach, was enough to make y/n break.

he had expected him to blush furiously and make up an excuse that he had to meet up with somebody in order to leave the room, but y/n instead tightened his grip on izaya's jaw and pressed his lips against his.

even after he recovered from his momentary shock, izaya neither reciprocated nor pulled away. it was another test. would y/n desperately kiss the man he's been in love with for ten years like he's always wanted to, or would he pull away and regret blowing his cover?

y/n pulled away quickly, looking at the floor with wide eyes.

"ah, so it was the latter," izaya noted.

"i'm sorry," y/n said, unable to lift his head.

izaya had expected this outcome, but what he didn't expect was for himself to be disappointed.

"i just... i don't know. i'm sorry. please forget about it. i was just--"

he was unsettled with his own disappointment, and hearing y/n do exactly what he had expected him to do was only putting him in an even worse mood.

izaya got up from y/n's bed until he got close enough to grab y/n's hand and let himself fall backwards.

with that, izaya's back was against the comfortable mattress, and y/n was pulled on top of him.

"i really hate what's coming out of your mouth," izaya said bluntly. "especially when there's so many better things that it could be doing."

y/n's mouth fell open in shock, and izaya took that as an opportunity to push the back of y/n's head until their lips meet again.

he was evidently too hasty in doing that, as y/n's teeth hit a little too hard against his lip.

"shit." that hurt a lot more than he could've ever anticipated. since when had he been so clumsy?

"are you okay? fuck, i'm sorry," y/n said against his lips.

"sh," izaya hushed and started moving his lips.

it wasn't long before y/n started to reciprocate, and even though izaya wasn't the most experienced kisser, he could tell that y/n had even less practice than he had.

"i guess he's too much of an honest guy to be with anyone he doesn't like, and he's only liked me ever since we were little," izaya thought to himself as he let his tongue slip through his lips and push between y/n's.

there wasn't much resistance on y/n's part, so it was easy.

the velvety hot feeling of being inside of y/n's mouth was admittedly intoxicating, and izaya could kind of understand why the couples back in school made out brazenly in the hallways.

y/n seemed to feel the same way, if his subconscious grinding was anything to go off of.

izaya bucked his hips up, chasing after the friction that rubbing their crotches together created.

he felt like a teenager in heat again, with the way they were humping each other without even taking their clothes off.

izaya pulled back and looked up at y/n in the same sensuous way that he had earlier. the thin string of saliva that kept them connected was both disgusting and seductive at the same time.

he licked his lips and let himself absorb y/n's features for a second. his slanted eyes showed that he was astonishingly dazed, and his cheeks were flushed a brilliant red. izaya's favorite, however, was his panting lips, swollen and red, the almost whiny sound that came out from them almost adorable.

snapping out of his predatory trance, izaya reached down and unbuckled his pants, pushing them and his boxers down enough to reveal his erection.

y/n turned his head away in embarrassment, but izaya caught his jaw with his hand, forcing him to turn to look at him.

"suck me off," izaya said in a tone that was breathier than he would've liked to admit.

y/n's eyes went wide, and his already parted lips blubbered as if he wanted to say something but couldn't think of what.

izaya grabbed one of y/n's hands and led it until it reached his cock, shuddering at the feeling of direct contact.

y/n blushed at the feeling of it throbbing in his hand.

"i want you to suck me off," izaya repeated as though he were challenging him which, in a way, he was. he wanted to see if y/n would go as far as to give him a blowjob, even if he had never had any experience with it. would the idea of a foreign action chase him away, or was y/n too eager to please izaya to leave him high and dry?

y/n pulled himself down low enough on izaya's body to do as he was told.

he gave an experimental lick along the underside of his erection and gained more confidence in what he was doing when izaya moaned.

izaya watched as y/n did his best to please him, trying to take all of him in his mouth and struggling to balance sucking and licking. his desperation was obvious and all the more arousing.

he noticed that at first, y/n tried to go slowly, trying to swallow back the spit collecting while keeping his mouth wide open. the constricting of his throat as he tried to swallow felt incredible around him, but izaya decided that he preferred the fast messy y/n that gave up on caring and let his drool spill down his erection, leaving a hot wet mess.

izaya awarded his efforts by threading his fingers through his hair and caressing the side of his huffed cheeks with his other hand.

y/n moaned at that, something izaya found incredibly amusing. it was the lightest of touches, not even sensual, but it was enough to pleasure y/n.

he tugged more at the hair in his hand, reveling in the vibrations that came from every noise y/n made.

"fuck," izaya groaned out the only verbal warning he gave. y/n could tell he was close, though, by the way he had started treating him roughly, keeping y/n's head still as he thrusted his hips with little care until he finished in his mouth.

as he came out of his high, he could see y/n gulping and wiping his lip. they were even more swollen than before, and now izaya really regretted not setting up cameras in y/n's room sooner. it was an image that he wanted to be able to save.

as izaya sat up, y/n shook his head and attempted to push him down again.

"wait," y/n almost begged.

that only fueled izaya's curiosity, and he easily overpowered y/n, flipping their positions so that he was on top.

he smirked at what y/n had been trying to hide from him.

"you got off to sucking my dick," izaya stated rather than asked.

y/n turned away, and izaya couldn't tell if his cheeks were more red because of what they had just done or because he was embarrassed.

izaya grabbed his face again and pulled him in for a short kiss. even he wasn't too sure why he had done it.

thinking about it now, izaya thinks that might be where things went wrong. his confusion and denial was probably what lead him to do what he did next.

"you hired a secretary?" y/n asked.

"yeah," izaya said without bothering to look up from his chessboard.

"you didn't tell me," y/n mumbled.

"why would i have to tell you?"

"that's... that's not what i meant, i just--since we share a house."

"she won't touch your room, if that's what you're worried about." izaya moved a pawn forward.

"i'm not worried," y/n said.

that was the first of two conversations they had about namie yagiri. the next one took place after another one of his tests--more specifically, the last test he got to make.

"aren't you overreacting?" izaya asked. he tried to seem nonchalant, but that was hard to do when he had to run to keep up with y/n.

"i'm overreacting?" y/n stopped running to turn around and look at him with eyes full of disbelief.

izaya was taken aback. y/n had never raised his voice at him before.

"what else do you think you're doing?" izaya raised an amused brow.

"how else am i supposed to react?" y/n nearly scoffed.

"you're upset," izaya noted.

"upset? of course i am! you were kissing her--why were you kissing her?" y/n's face crumpled.

"she kissed me," izaya shrugged.

"and you just let her?"

"why not?"

"i..." y/n didn't know what to say. "i just thought we had something."

"i love all humans equally. you know this." izaya looked at him as if he were being ridiculous.

izaya could visibly see the fight leave y/n. his shoulders slumped, and all expression on his face dropped. he slowly turned around and started walking away again.

"just... go home, izaya," y/n didn't turn back to look at him. "i don't wanna be around you right now."

confused by the unprecedented response, izaya just stood in the middle of the road. y/n, who had persistently followed him for ten years, had just told him to go away.

he couldn't have calculated such a thing, but even more so than that, he didn't expect to come home to find y/n's room ransacked.

"it looks like we've been robbed," izaya said casually, leaning against the doorframe.

he stood frozen as namie told him y/n had left with an overflowing duffle bag just hours earlier.

the next time he saw y/n, he was with another man.

༺♥༻

"people think of him like some cold-blooded monster, but he's more human than anyone i know; he's so fragile inside. if you pumped him full of love and betrayal and such, i think he'd fall apart."

shinra had said that in their last year of school. it was probably his own weird way of trying to console y/n.

"sorry, shinra," y/n sighs as rain hits the back of his head while he looms over his closed coffin. "i focused on the wrong part of your wise words."

a year after he moved out of izaya's house, he found himself walking down an all too familiar road in ikebukuro. he's been denying it ever since, but it was definitely because a part of him wanted izaya to see him.

and as he wanted, he crossed paths with izaya that day.

it was a reunion cut short by none other than himself.

"y/n, it's been a while," izaya walked up to him so casually it hurt. as if they were normal buddies who hadn't gotten a chance to see each other in a while simply because of conflicting schedules, not because they left on the terms that they did. "who's this?"

seeing how unfazed he was had only added to the year-long pain he'd been suffering. maybe this was karma for trying to hurt him. shinra was wrong--or maybe he just didn't mean enough to izaya for him to see this as betrayal.

with his plans tearing apart his heart rather than izaya's, he brushed him off without a single word. he continued walking with the man he didn't particularly care for without looking back. a part of him still hopes that if he did, he would've seen izaya look like a kicked puppy.

though, even now, he doubts that izaya's face would've worn anything but a careless grin.

"what wise words?"

y/n looks up from the coffin, and the rain now slaps lightly against his face.

two petty cowards stand only a foot apart, seeking each other at a mutual friend's funeral.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

a/n;

i wanted to try the style of going back and forth between the present and past. it didn't turn out exactly as i would've liked, but i think it's okay.

i would really appreciate any feedback on this! did the smut suck? was it boring? did the plot suck? lmk :) that also goes for any of my other works

also playing around with borders is fun

draft from sept 2020

[casuallyimagining]

Cold

Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Summary: It’s cold out, and you’re freezing. Jungkook does his best to help warm you up. Genre: Fluff Notes: Part of the Long Term Couples series.  Read more of the series here

The air around Heunginjimun Gate was frigid, although what you were expecting for later afternoon at the beginning of December, you weren’t really sure. You could see your breath in the film lights the company had set up, and despite your long, puffy coat and beanie, you were fighting a shiver.

You checked the schedule on your iPad to make sure things were still running on-time. The guys were filming a huge pre-recorded, on-location performance for some American late night show. Honestly, you had filmed so many over the past few months that without your calendar, you would have lost track of who wanted Bangtan when. The directors BigHit had hired decided they wanted something traditionally Korean, but a little more unique than just performing at the palace again.

Thus, Heunginjimun Gate.

And it was beautiful, really, it was. The contrast of the modern buildings of new Seoul standing tall behind the monolith of old Seoul was one of your favorite parts of walking around the ancient city. You just wished you were thawed enough to really appreciate it. You clutched your coffee tighter. Just a few more shots to get.

Thankfully, the last shots of the night went quickly, and the director was happy to wrap within an hour. You had a quick meeting with the staff and film team to coordinate post-filming duties before wandering off to find Jungkook.

Of course, he was by the snacks.

He was chatting animatedly with Jin, his coat on but not buttoned as they dug through the piles of chips and cookies to find what they wanted. As soon as he noticed you approaching, Jin yelled for you.

“Yah! Do we have any more of these shoots scheduled?” He flashed you a smile. “I’m getting kind of used to not having to fly everywhere for promotions.”

You laughed, walking into Jungkook’s outstretched arm. “We are working on scheduling another one for sometime next week.”

“Amazing. Truly amazing. Keep it up and we never have to go anywhere again.” Jin laughed, starting to walk away. “Yoongi would love that!”

Jungkook laughed loudly, pulling you closer for a second before going back to digging through the snacks. You poured yourself another cup of coffee. He looked at the steaming cup in your hands, raising an eyebrow in confusion. When you didn’t immediately take a sip, his eyes widened.

“Coffee this late?” he questioned, attempting to be casual. He opened his bag of chips and offered you some. “How long have you been out here?”

“Since we arrived.” You stuck your hand into the bag and pulled out a couple chips. “I’ve been back and forth between set and the production tent all night.”

For a moment, he just stood there, staring at you. Then, you shivered slightly, and he immediately crossed to you, wrapping you in a hug.

“God, you’re freezing.” He rubbed your back to try to generate some heat.

“It’s cold out,” you said simply, trying to hold your coffee steady so that it didn’t spill.

“Why didn’t you put my coat on? You could have grabbed it from my chair in the tent.”

You laughed, pulling away to look him in the eyes. “We are not the same body shape.” You tugged on the lapel of his slightly fitted peacoat. “This would never fit me.” You sighed and took a sip of your coffee. “Plus, it’s yours and we’re in public.”

Jungkook hummed in annoyance. “For the record, I would rather tell people we’re dating than have you freeze to death.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could say anything one of the other managers--you couldn’t quite tell which--called for him. You smiled, and pushed him playfully. “Your ride’s here.”

He huffed and a pout formed on his lips, and for a second, you remember that he’s the youngest of the group. “Can’t I just ride back with you?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea tonight.” He frowned and crossed his arms. You could tell he wasn’t mad--it was more disappointment. “Don’t give me that look. You know I would take to Twitter right now if I could. But end-of-the-year awards season isn’t the time to risk things.” You reached out and squeezed his hand. “I’ll be home soon enough.” They called his name again, and you could tell the manager was getting annoyed. “Go. Don’t forget to feed Kimchi.”

Jungkook frowned before stepping forward and pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “I love you.”

“Love you, too. See you at home.”

He flashed you a quick smile before turning and jogging toward the manager and the waiting van. You turned back to the coffee pot and topped your cup off. It was going to be a long night.

You got back to your apartment a few hours later, having sat through an impromptu post-production meeting about the shoots. You were exhausted and half-frozen, despite the fact that you cranked your car’s heater as high as it would go on the way home.

As soon as you walked in the door, Kimchi was at your heels. The pup--who wasn’t so much of a pup anymore, you thought sadly--gave a short bark before sniffing at your shoes as you kicked them off beside Jungkook’s.

“I’m home!” you called, hanging your coat up and walking further into your apartment. You patted your thigh and Kimchi followed you obediently.

Jungkook was in the kitchen, standing over the stove. You wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, pressing a kiss to his t-shirt between his shoulder blades before slotting your chin over his shoulder.

You hummed happily. “You’re so warm.”

He laughed at that, squeezing one of your hands. “Still cold?” You nodded against him. “I’m making us some tea. Hopefully that’ll help.”

“It helps to be home,” you mumble, pressing a kiss to his jaw just below his ear. You heard him giggle as you pulled away, your hand lingering on his waist for a moment. “I’m going to go change.”

When you returned to the kitchen, Jungkook was pouring the hot water from the kettle into two mugs. He flashed you a soft smile when he noticed you were back, pulling you closer by the pocket of your hoodie. His arms wrapped around you tightly and he buried his face in your neck. “Aside from cold, how do you think the shoot went today?” His voice was muffled, his hot breath fanning across your skin.

“I think they’re going to love the new song.” You rubbed circles into his back. “It’s a damn delight and the choreography’s beautiful.” He hummed, rocking you back and forth slightly. You loved when he got like this--usually after performances--when he was cuddly and happy and so incredibly loving that he just needed to let it out.

Jungkook continued to sway you back and forth as you waited for the tea to steep, his hands running soothingly up and down your back. You had started to thaw out as soon as you walked in the door, but you weren’t about to tell him that.

“You know,” he said suddenly. His voice was soft, but you could hear the edge of seriousness in it. “I was serious earlier. You should have taken my coat.” He sighed, but continued before you could respond. “I’m glad that you care about the fans’ reactions, but… honestly I don’t. I know I should, but it’s been a year.”

You pulled away just enough so you could look at him, your hands coming up to cup his cheeks. “I know, Kookie. We’re working on it, but it’s a process.” You brushed your thumbs across his cheekbones. “Trust the process.”

You felt his cheek protrude as he poked his tongue into it. The annoyed look on his face was honestly kind of cute, and you had to stop yourself from laughing at him. “The process is dumb.”

“It’s certainly…” you paused, searching for the right word. “Cautious. Maybe overly so. But, Koo, you have to know Sejin just wants it to go over as well as possible-”

“I know-”

“I don’t want to lose my job. I really don’t want it to affect yours.” You frowned. “It’s tricky, but it’ll be worth the wait.”

Jungkook smiled at that and leaned in to rest his forehead against your own. He nose brushed against your cheek, and then his lips were on yours, the kiss gentle and slow. When he pulled away, he was smiling.

“I think the tea’s probably done,” he mumbled, leaning in for another quick kiss. You laughed, loud and full, and he held you tightly to his chest. “You warm yet?”

“With you?” You booped his nose and leaned around him to grab one of the tea cups. “Always.”

Read more of the series here

[summonerscenarios]

Hello, whenever you're able to, can you make the reactions of the Summoners + Gullinbursti and Agyo reacting to MC2 coming back all scratched and bruised? I love when the boys get worried about the MC

First request post of 2021 let’s go~! dfghgfd honestly don’t we all love seeing ppl worry about the poor MC? I mean the amount of trouble they get dragged into is ridiculous lmao I’m sure there’s some kind of award for that at this point. Hope ya like it hun!

-----

Shiro

Shiro’s worried - of course he is. Seeing any of the Summoners getting scratched up or injured in fights is enough to warrant concern about them; however, his reaction really depends on how you ended up getting scuffed up. If it was due to jumping in to help someone or getting into an accident he’s going to be very concerned about your health and well being. If it was because you were super reckless and went overboard doing some stupid shit? He’ll absolutely know and you’ll know he knows as soon as you walk through the door and spot him waiting for you. He’s got the disapproving parent face down to a T which you’ve joked about on more than one occasion, but it's clear he’s still genuinely worried once he catches sight of how banged up and bruised you are.

He keeps a few things like plasters and that on him for the little injuries (and for when the D-evil’s get hurt I’ll die with this idea thx), there’s also a first aid kit or two stocked away at the safehouse thanks to the last couple of instances of people (namely you and Kengo) coming back in beaten up and in need of some bandaging up, so thankfully he’s fully prepared to help you. He makes sure you’re sitting down both to get you off of your feet as well as to see where all the scratches are so he knows exactly what he’s working with. Surprisingly, Shiro’s pretty adept at patching you up without hurting you too much - turning your hands and arms around in his hands to make sure he gets every cut and scrape without pressing down too hard as he wipes them over and patches them up. The whole time he works he’ll ask you about what happened this time, listening to you telling him all about what went down as he works, nodding along and humming to let you know that he’s still listening to you whenever you pause. 

Shiro knows that he can’t always stop you from getting hurt, especially when there’s so many things out to get you (and so many things you actively jump into without any regard for your wellbeing whatsoever, like seriously please at least try to keep yourself he worries a lot), but he can at least always be there to patch you back up and get you back on your feet when you’re injured, so he takes this kind of stuff seriously. Even once you’re patched up Shiro makes sure you sit down for a little while to rest a bit - if you have any open cuts the only thing that running around jumping back into trouble will achieve is making it take longer to heal. In the meantime he’ll make some drinks to convince you to stay put, giving the two of you the chance to chat about something that isn’t injury-related as you drink and talk in the safety of the guildhouse.

Kengo

Okay I’m gonna be honest, Kengo’s not entirely surprised to see you all busted up when you run into each other. It’s not like he hasn’t had his fair share of scuffles for various reasons (sometimes he doesn’t even mean to get dragged into them!...sometimes) and he knows that you’re very much the same so it’s not like he doesn’t realize you aren’t gonna come in roughed up sometimes. The two of you have got a pretty mutual understanding - if you need some help patching up you’ve got each other’s backs, namely to avoid getting reamed out by the others for getting into said fights in the first place. Which is exactly why when you guys bump into each other and he sees that you’re sporting a shiner and a busted lip to boot he knows something went down, but he doesn’t worry too much when you flash him a grin and tell him that he missed a hell of a fight, easing his worries that it at least didn’t get too out of hand.

There’s nothing a washcloth and some water won’t fix - at least that’s what he says as he slaps a bowl full of water down in front of you once you’re sat down on the floor and kneels down to get on your level. He leaves your eye be once he makes sure it’s only bruised and not something more serious and focuses on the cuts since they’re the bigger issue. His hands are rugged and his grip’s a little rough when he accidentally brushes over some of the bruised parts of your skin, but Kengo tries his best to be careful, guiding you to tilt your head in his direction with one hand as the other brings the washcloth up to your busted lip. It stings when he touches it and your expression scrunches up at the unpleasant feeling, but you ease up a little as he cleans up the wound and wipes away the blood smearing your mouth. 

Kengo tries to keep the mood as light as possible; he tries to crack a couple jokes to cheer you up but a few of them earn him a playful punch to the shoulder though it makes taking care of you go a lot more smoothly.The cuts at least look better once they’re cleaned up of the blood and marks, and while Kengo does wish he at least had something to wrap em up with he’s glad that you’re at least looking a sight better than you did when you’d initially showed up. 

Ryota

WORRIED. VERY WORRIED. When Ryota catches sight of you he almost immediately drops whatever he's doing and rushes over to you to make sure that you’re okay, expression alight with alarm when he can see how scuffed up you are up close. At the sight of his reaction worrying over you, you feel a bit guilty that you didn’t try to clean yourself up before you arrived, since the bruises and bleeding cuts don't exactly paint the most reassuring picture to the poor boy. Still you try to reassure him that it’s really not that bad - you’ve had worse bruises and most of the scratches are surface wounds anyway; Ryota still frets over you until you at the very least sit down, looking at some of the bruises on the side of your face with brows furrowed in unspoken concern.

Ryota’s asking you what he can do to help the whole time - is there something he can get you? Something to cover the cuts? Maybe some ice for the bruises? He’s pretty sure he could rush to the cafeteria and get some to wrap up in a cloth so you can soothe the ache ,or at least lessen the pain. You end up taking him up on the offer, and he comes back with a pouch of ice, pressing it to the bruised side of your face so gently it’s like he’s scared of hurting you even more. It certainly helps to ease the pain a little, and seeing you visibly relax at the touch it seems to calm his nerves down as he comes to sit down beside you, talking to you as you take the ice pack from him and keep it pressed to your face.

He seems to remember something as you’re talking and spins around to rummage through one of his drawers, turning back around with a box of plasters in hand a few moments later with a triumphant smile on his face. Soon enough you’ve got plenty of plasters with cute little patterns decorated on them on each and every one of your cuts regardless of how big or small they are. By the time the last one’s carefully placed over a cut around your finger the earlier tension’s definitely eased and you can tell he feels less worried now that you’re taken care of, offering you a warm smile when he looks up from your hand at you.

Toji

Toji’s dealt with more than a few injuries himself before, having to teach himself how to take care of different kinds of wounds over the course of his lifetime. Alongside this however he’s also grown quite adept at assessing how serious someone else's injuries are when he sees them. Perhaps that's how he’s able to notice something’s wrong when you try to sneak back to your room trying to nurse your wounds after getting pretty scuffed up through no real fault of your own. It’s not as though you can really hide them from him though, with a couple bruises, cuts and a generally mussed up appearance it isn’t hard for him to take a guess that you aren’t in your usually injury-free state. When you try to assure him that you’ll be find once you’ve patched yourself up Toji sighs, rubbing his temples, then proceeds to gesture for you to go ahead into your room, and thinking he’s actually letting you off the hook you don't hesitate to slip into your room and leave it there. Only a few minutes later he comes knocking on your door with a bag of what you soon find out is some medical supplies - bandages, plasters, rubbing alcohol and some other supplies you guess is for cleaning wounds. 

Calls you a dumbass the whole time but in a low-key lovingly sort of way. 

Okay but seriously though, if you got hurt due to recklessness expect him to talk your ear off the whole time - he doesn’t care if you think you’re being heroic, because you’re not gonna be a hero for very long if you get more injured than you can handle. You getting hurt is no joke to him, even if the wounds are relatively minor by comparison; even as he says this though he’s surprisingly gentle as he tends to your wounds, not being overly harsh despite the scolding tone of his words. You can tell that deep down he is genuinely concerned about your wellbeing as he patches you up, as when you hiss at the cleansing wipes he runs over your cuts you notice he pauses for a second before continuing.

He’s pretty practiced at this by comparison to the other Summoners, so it really doesn’t take very long until you’re all cleaned up and doing better than you would have been if you’d just stuck it out in your room. But don’t expect to get away without one last drawn out lecture on taking better care of yourself - you’ve only got one body and all it takes is a stray knife or the wrong place for you to get seriously hurt. It’s honestly pretty rich coming from someone who so often delves into the shadows for the sake of succeeding in battle more times than you can count; however, for what it’s worth you can tell he’s giving you this talk because he doesn’t like seeing you getting hurt, and wants to ensure that you aren’t willingly putting yourself into harm’s way - he wants you to stay safe, even if he doesn’t outwardly say tell you that.

Gullinbursti

I mean usually Gull’s the one who ends up getting hurt barging in to take the fall in your stead, so when you end up coming back home covered in scratches and bruises it likely happened when he wasn’t around to intervene. Needless to say, he hates the sight of you injured in any way - he feels as though he’s failed to fulfill his purpose to keep you protected from harm, and you’re honestly surprised to see just how distressed he is by you getting hurt. You get hurt all of the time, with so many close calls to your name you’re sure you’d earn an achievement or two for it - but you guess most of those instances have been while Gull wasn’t around, which explains why he gets so troubled at the sight of you standing before him, cradling a few more bruises than you’re able to cover up when you come face to face with the boar transient.

You have to really convince him that you’ll be fine without going to see anybody like a doctor or school nurse or else Gullinbursti won’t even hesitate to hoist you up into his arms and charge right over to the person who can get you healed up, be it one of the other Summoners or a medical professional. He doesn’t seem entirely convinced when you tell him that you’re fine - you just need to grab a couple things you’d stashed away specifically for these instances and once you’re finished you’ll be right as rain...minus the scratches, of course. Similar to Ryota, he hovers around you whilst you’re cleaning yourself up, looking for an opportunity to aid you in some way, whether that’s going out to retrieve something or holding things for you while you move to grab the next things you need. It’s actually pretty cute seeing him trying to dote on you, watching you clean yourself up and bristling when you grit your teeth as you apply the disinfectant.

In your opinion, you do a pretty bang up job of bandaging yourself up, though as you’re putting the last of the plasters on your palm you feel the back of his hand brush against the side of you, stopping just short of one of the particularly nasty bruises you’ve got blossoming across the skin. When you tilt your head to face him and ask him what’s wrong he wonders aloud if you’re in pain - it makes you pause, because you’d be lying if you said they didn’t feel at least uncomfortable, so instead of answering you lean over and pat his cheek, assuring him that you’re okay and that he doesn’t need to worry in the hopes to reassure him.

Agyo

Agyo absolutely panics when you come through the guildhouse door all busted up and bruised. When did you get hurt?! It couldn’t have been close to the guild, the little lion dog takes guarding the safehouse seriously, so surely he’d have spotted you while he was out making sure everything outside was okay! You’re covered in scratches and bruises when you stumble into the room and greet the fluffy transient, and the poor boy just about faints at the sight of you grinning as you rub at the side of your face where you’re supporting a particularly large bruise, half-heartedly whining about how it stings and how you were so sure you could have dodged the hit. Agyo really wishes someone else was here, someone who has a good enough idea on how to take care of you when you’re hurt; since he’s the only one around at the time he decides to take the situation into his own paws, ushering you further inside the room so that he can get a proper look at just how bad the damage is, getting frustrated when you try to tell him that it’s really not that big of a deal.

He tries to put on a brave face but you can tell that he’s really worried - your injuries are only scrapes and bruises at worst, but you’ve got a hell of a lot of them. Agyo has the least amount of experience with dealing with injuries; he’s gotten hurt before back in Wa No Kuni, and he’s also seen people coming to the shrine sick or injured but it was always his grandpa who took care of those duties while Agyo got things to help. So Agyo plays to his strengths, and remembering some of the things he’d seen used before, brings out the first aid kit for you to use, hoping that whatever’s inside will help in some way. Most of them don’t even need anything to cover, with only a few cuts actually managing to break the skin, but for the sake of easing his nerves you humor him a little and cover as many as you’re able. 

Most of your fingers are covered in plasters by the time you’re done, with them having received the brunt of the damage at the time, and you hold them up for him to see, waggling your fingers as if to show him that you’re all better. It does seem to do the trick, as at the sign of your plaster-covered hands he huffs and plops down to sit beside you, shaking his head as he asks you how you even ended up like this - surely you didn’t run headfirst into trouble, right?...right? When you don’t answer him, instead feigning ignorance and whistling as you look away, the poor lion dog gives you an exasperated look and starts persistently prying for answers, grumbling about losing guardian points when the sight of him getting so riled up makes you laugh a little.

[gaybarbiegirl]

Luna Valente for the character game!❤

Oh gosh, sorry for missing this one!

Favorite thing about them

This might be a bit specific, but I really love the way Luna interacts with others. She always tries to see the best in people, she's kind, fun, and supportive, and she encourages her friends to get out of their comfort zones while still respecting their boundaries and not being too pushy. But still, she's not overly naive or a pushover. She knows how to stand up for herself, she isn't afraid to tell people when they mess up, and she also has her own boundaries regarding how much she can take. Sometimes she does make mistakes, but for the most part, I think Luna strikes the perfect balance between being giving and caring but still respecting herself and her boundaries, and that's something I can really admire.

Least favorite thing about them

As much as I love Luna, I think she can get a bit narrow minded sometimes, and it can be frustrating. I'm talking mainly about the way she wasn't even willing to give Juliana a chance when she first arrived in s2, and about some moments where she gets mad at someone and just refuses to listen to their side. She usually comes around in the end and realises she was wrong, which I like, but it can still be pretty tiring to watch.

Favorite line

This might be a bit random, but I think that time when she jokingly said "soy chiquita, pero si me buscas me encuentras" was really cute.

brOTP

Luna and Simón have the sweetest friendship ever and I love it with my whole heart. They're adorable.

OTP

I don't really have one, sorry...

The person I'd say I ship Luna with the most is Ámbar, but like I said in my Ámbar ask, their relationship doesn't have to be romantic for me to enjoy it, so I don't think I'd call them an OTP. I just love the complex bond they share and want them to be there for each other, regardless of what that relationship looks like.

nOTP

I mean, if I'm being honest, I'm not a big fan of any of Luna's canon relationships. I think Lumón was an amazing friendship, but whenever they brought romance into it, it just felt wrong. Lutteo was okay in s3, but by then, Matteo had already been such a jerk throughout s1 and s2 that it was too late for me to ship it. Sebastian just made me uncomfortable, I didn't like the way he interacted with Luna (or with Ámbar in s1) at all. But still, I'd say the worst one was Michel. He made me even more uncomfortable than Sebastian, and the way he behaved towards Luna in the end was really not okay.

Random headcanon

I think Luna is pansexual, mainly because of the longing looks she gives Ámbar and Nina throughout the show, and because of how much she surrounds herself with blue, pink, and yellow motifs.

Unpopular opinion

Ok, I think Luna was a very good skater (especially in s2 and s3), but I also think some of the awards she won were undeserved.

For starters, I don't think she and Simón should have won the couple's competition in s1. Their choreography was just not that good, and Ámbar and Matteo were leagues ahead of them, even if they had one nearly imperceptible misstep.

Also, I don't think she should have won a crystal skate. She did great in that Vuelo performance, but the crystal skate was always refered to as this very rare award that only the best skaters in the world get, and I'm sorry, but she was just not at that skill level yet.

And lastly, this was more of a Jam&Roller thing than a Luna thing, but that moment in s3 where all of the people who went to the Red Sharks Festival leave to watch them skate was incredibly forced. I mean, who would go to a professional (and likely expensive) rollerskating festival, but then leave before it even starts to watch some kids skating on the street?

Song I associate with them

Valiente. It's her song, after all, and I think it encapsulates all of the things I love about her really well. Also, it's one of my favorite songs in the show.

Favorite picture of them

Best girls ❤

Thank you so much for this ask!

[nightswithkookmin]

Hye Goldy, I love your blog. I'm happy to find a jikooker who isn't afraid to address real and non-idealistic aspects of jikook relationship. My question has to do with Jungkook's reactions to jimin initiating any contact with him, be it physical or emotional. Jk reactions go between nervousness, annoyance, embarrassment, uncomfortableness and withdrawals in on himself.

Like when Jimin gets playful and he gets close or touchy, or when JK has a hard time and Jimin shows his worry for him and tries to comfort him, tries to reach out for him. For example during run 100 or 101 episode when JK got hit by ball and jimin went to check on him and kept insisting asking him if he was ok, jk kind of ignored him. Or during the voice acting run episode when he said he was cold and Jimin hugged him and his eyes bugged out of his head ans his body went all tense. There are so many instances like this.

Jk on the other hand is sometimes bold, setting course for some of the most questionable jikook moments. But often he's subdued and laid back. Again, another example, would be when Yoongi hit the ball directly at jimin. Compare to Jimin over worried self he just went over and looked at him once and when he saw Jimin was laughing he went back.

What do you think about this? How do you explain it?

How do I explain what?👀

Are his reactions a problem?👀

Do you want to free Jimin?👀

Chilee Anon, you are bold. Don't let JK hear you say these things. Lmho.

I think for the most part, you are just pointing out the differences in their personalities and their unique ways of expressing themselves in general not just towards eachother.

Jikook are two very distinct individuals and they express themselves differently. I feel a lot of people forget that sometimes but it's actually not that deep.

Jk is naturally reserved, introverted and not overly nurturing or affectionate. He has said this himself and Jimin has described him as not very good at expressing his emotions or communicating his feelings as well.

You can't expect him to express himself or his affections the same way an extroverted honorary hufflepuff and natural nurturer with no shame like Jimin would. That's asking for too much, I think. Lol.

I don't think there is anything wrong with JK or the way he expresses himself towards Jimin to be honest. As I keep saying, Jikook negotiate their needs most times to make for the differences in their personalities. Their relationship is not one sided. If there are aspects of JK's personality that impedes on the quality of love Jimin requires to feel satisfied in their dynamics Jimin would say so and I believe JK would work on it and vice versa. I mean we've seen them do that repeatedly over the years.

Jimin loves to be loved and he's said so himself and I believe he knows exactly what makes him feel loved and what doesn't. In the Grammy reaction video, he literally hopped over his soul mate and best friend to get a hug from JK bumping his head in the process. He was seeking emotional warmth from him. I don't think if JK's touches were cold he would keep turning to him for it.

At fan signs when Jk isn't next to him, he grabs the mic and tells Jungkook his place is beside him.

At awards when JK is having fun with his friends, he hugs his hyungs for comfort till JK comes running to him. When Hobi and JK are off in the corner playing kids, he glares at them till JK comes to stand behind him and blows on the back of his head to placate him.

On red carpets from the Grammys to Jingle bell when he can't stand next to JK because they have to stand in their official positions he literally breaks down- well almost breaks down.

There is something warm about JK that doesn't translate to the screens.

Jk does the same thing. When he needs Jimin's presence he grabs him by the neck and pulls him to himself. When he is feeling anxious and needs to calm down he rubs on Jimin's arms to soothe himself.

During performances when he's waited for JM to interact with him and JM isn't doing that, he walks to him to wrap his hands around him or sing with him. He cheats his way through games to be on the same team with JM, he literally teleports his ass to be next to JM. He throws tantrums when he can't be next to him.

Jimin didn't wake him up once and he whined about it in interviews. Jimin left him out of a VLive and he started a revolution on VLive.

There is something they both need from eachother's presence and they take it from eachother when they need it- as far as their need for affections and intimacy go. In my opinion.

They take up a lot of space in eachother's lives, riding together, spending time together outside of work, getting in eachother's personal space and groping eachother excessively- not that I'm complaining. I mean, I wanna see it all. Lol. But it would be counterintuitive for either of them, especially JK to do all of these things, be an accomplice of, participate in and initiate certain intimate moments with JM himself if Jimin made him in anyway uncomfortable, annoyed or embarrassed.

It also says a lot about BTS and BigHit if it is true, that JK is uncomfortable being intimate with Jimin, for having sat and watched this sordidity go on between Jikook for years without intervening, or standing up for JK, to protect him against Jimin imposing himself on jK in that way, by calling JM out for making the youngest among them feel uncomfortable with his skinship and gestures towards him. It would be a failure on their part not to uphold their common duty to protect and act in the interests of JK as the hyungs, agent and guardians of JK.

It would be a failure and a huge betrayal on JM's part too. Jimin is and portrays himself as a very considerate person with a high emotional intelligence quotient who cares about and loves JK. It would be insensitive and not so loving or intelligent of him to not know his actions, skinship and affections make another person uncomfortable or annoyed.

And for him to persist in these endeavors throughout the years knowing full well they are not welcomed, reciprocated or enjoyed by JK would not just be unconscionable on his part but would make him dumb, abusive and vile- a rhetoric anti Jimin, anti Jikook and most Tuktukkers peddle on these streets and I don't blame them. Ignorance and hatred will do that to a person.

This rhetoric implicates not just JM but JK himself, BTS and the company as they all have stock and owe a duty of care towards eachother and JK as the youngest amongst them, to create and foster a work environment where everyone's bodily integrity, mind and spirit is respected and upheld. One in which they all feel safe within.

Let's talk ships for a second. You think Tae or Suga will let Jimin make JK uncomfortable in that way and not stand up for JK or call JM out for that? Tae? Taehyung? Sis, there's a reason Yeontan doesn't like him. He is over protective. Lol. That dog just wanna walk down the streets with Min Holly on his arm.

Let me paint you a picture. When JK got injured on stage and he went to JM and JM comforted him but his part was coming up so he left to go sing, Taehyung stood by JK and followed him around the stage never taking his eyes off him- even though JK was just gravitating towards JM because he was feeling vulnerable and JM had no idea what was happening behind him.

In Run 116, another recent instance of JK's vulnerable moments, because to me he was dealing with a broken heart- because Jikook had broken up around that period in my opinion, JK was leaning into Tae for that comfort.

Feel free to disagree anyone but I'm afraid I have to stand by my opinion and observations and understanding of their dynamics. Lol.

Notice how the one time JM initiated skinship with JK in that episode, because JK had spent the entire episode closed off to him, Jimin kept stealing glances at the members? His eyes kept shifting and he looked almost nervous? Now why do you think that is?

The members will not allow Jimin to impose himself on JK like that.

It's the second time in years I've seen Jimin act like he needed permission to interact with JK. Did you see the blackswan shoot interview around that period? Tae and Kook around early January through to the On period?

Tae would not stand and watch Jimin play JK's feelings like that, take advantage of him or make him uncomfortable. Neither would Suga quite frankly. RM wouldn't stand for it nor will Jin or Hobi.

If you noticed any thing off with Jikook around the period you mentioned, it's probably because they were getting back together after a breakup and their interactions were in the aftermath of a hiccup in their relationship. Again, my opinion.

Compare that Run moment you mentioned where JM was hit in the eye to the recent Grammy reaction behind scenes when JM hit his head and was hurting or even to all the events post October... same vibe as On Era, different intensities. We will talk about the October timeline again soon. I think I've seen enough to form an opinion. Lol.

My point is, Jikook have unique love needs and love languages. Jimin speaks JK's love language even if that language is not JK's own way of expression.

When asked what JK liked about Jimin, JK said it was his shamelessness. Deep it. We find attractive in others qualities we admire or lack in ourselves.

JK harbors a lot of shame over a lot of things. He is not Jimin. He may panic when JM suddenly pounces on him because he knows JM is wild, shameless and reckless but that doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy it.

That compliment he gave Jimin about his shameless to me was also a confession of his own shame and reservations around his expressions of self- something I feel he has been working to overcome through out the years. It's only in recent times that the members have said he's become a bit shameless himself.

JK describes Jimin's self expressions as sexy and shameless. He's said he's wanted to look sexy too and perform a sexy dance too. He may not have openly admitted this but I believe shamelessness is a quality he wants in himself.

To be shameless implies, on a certain level, JM lacks guilt, is impervious to judgment and doesn't give regard to his environment when he expresses himself.

Jimin may not have a lot of guilt about his sexuality but he has a lot of fear and JK may not have a lot of fear in him but he has a lot of guilt about his sexuality and both are not less gay.

All these beautiful moments of expressions from Jimin you seemly applaud were at one point viewed as disgraceful acts or acts of shame and worthy of condemnation that in JK's view perhaps shouldn't have been expressed so openly by Jimin or any gay man for that matter- the emphasis is mine.

I'm going off on a tangent but stick with me.

That shame he associates with JM's self expressions on the surface may just be as a result of his shyness and introvertedness but I also think his internalized homophobia brought on by his own past repressed homosexuality could be an underlying factor. In my opinion.

It's very unsettling, as a closeted person, to watch other queer people in close proximity to you perform sexuality and queerness so openly without fear or shame and be met with the level of ridicule JM was met with in those early days parading himself as the queer jest of the group. It was cringe merely watching those moments from the screen.

If he viewed his queerness as wrong in any way on a fundamental level, then we cannot reasonably expect him to suddenly have a complete 360 turn around or a hundred percent shift from this mentality. It doesn't work like. Being closeted can have lasting effects on a person even long after they have come out of the closet.

I believe JK is aware of this. Do I think he is happy with it? No. But I believe he is working on it. Like the members said, he has changed alot this past year and has a lot of self awareness now. In his Weverse interview, they pointed out how he is constantly working to improve himself.

It is why I think often when he panics and pulls away in such moments he tries to reestablish contact with Jimin to reassure him he is not rejecting him. I think I pointed it out in my video analysis on YT. He knows he has a lot to work through and I know JM is patient with him when it comes to that. I see them as working through a lot of baggage as queer men honestly. They're undoing the toxic narratives of queerness and masculinity, learning not to be afraid of being themselves openly etc. They are gonna get there- eventually.

JM talks about their relationship and uses the word love to describe it and JK shifts uncomfortably. An interviewer playfully asks if JM is not his style and he panics and stutters, causing JM to butt in and save his ass with 'don't answer that.' Jimin talks about JK hugging him to sleep at a fan sign and JK shuts it down telling JM he doesn't like such things said about him because to him it was weird for JM to say stuff like that.

And you'd often hear JM asking JK if it was ok for him to say certain things or do certain things in regards to him immediately after he'd said or done them- is it ok to say I like you? Is it ok to say you cuddle me to sleep. You don't like this? You don't like that?

Clearly, JM felt the need to ask these and had to ask because perhaps JK had expressed concerns about certain things JM said and did openly in regards to him that he didn't feel comfortable with.

Jimin over expresses himself which is equally problematic if we are being honest. And JK under expresses himself, we been knew.

Over the years, he's learned to be more brazen and less reserved but he still is the same person at his core: an introvert. His introvertedness doesn't answer for his actions and choices but it answers for his mannerisms and the things you've pointed out is one of them.

I have said I don't buy into this whole JM fell first, JK fell harder narrative. For Jimin to have fallen first he would have had to be queer in those early days but I argue he wasn't ergo that entire conjecture is bogus to me. Lol.

JM over expresses himself and part of those expressions to me are mere performances divorced from his sexuality. Most of JK's expressions flow from his sexuality and I feel he is not very good at compartmentalizing. But that's not his fault. That's the consequences of being queer in a space where performative queerness is applauded but actual gayness is frowned upon and Jikook are a reflection of this.

People are ok with Jimin being gay as long as he is not gay. They are ok making gay jokes about him untill we tell them he is actually gay in a gay relationship with another gay member- then it's don't assume his sexuality and project and heteronormativity. Smh.

And the more these upcoming Idols use Jikook as the blueprint to their success by imitating and performing the queerness of Jikook for entertainment purposes the more the lines blur on what is acceptable queerness and what is political queerness.

He's built a persona and a facade for himself over the years and this persona incorporates to some degree, what you can call queer aesthetics, just a dash of gayness to keep things interesting. But it's a facade nevertheless.

Jimin is not more gay than JK because he over expresses and JK is not less gay because he under expresses and one is not better than the other.

Jimin doesn't love JK more just because he over expresses and JK doesn't love JM less just because he under expresses- if that's what you were implying by your Ask.

I read a comment from months ago under a BinJin couple video analysis where people were saying the Lady was too stiff around the Man at awards hence she was uncomfortable being around him therefore they were not real- HUH!!! Jokes on them.

I think people need to expand their vocabulary beyond he is uncomfortable ergo he doesn't like Jimin. If anything being nervous around someone you like is the first indication you like them. Lmho.

Jikook make eachother nervous. Jimin had to drag JK out of the Kitchen when he was cooking because he didn't want JK to watch him cook. Lol.

In the New Jersey VLive, Jimin gulped looking at the screen trying to keep his cool but JK clocked it and that's why he looked up at him- omg these two. Jk got them in some deep shit that day. Lmho.

Sometimes Jimin intentionally puts JK on the spot, like he did in the Japan self interviews when he blurted out the best part of his day is waking up to see JK's face. JK was shooketh. Lmho.

Did you see JK's face when JM blew him an air kiss at the award? JK could never. Lmho.

In spite of all these reactions, JK keeps going back for more. In spite of his own reactions to these moments, JK keeps praising JM for it. Does he want Jimin to stop doing those. I wish I could say yes- but I'm scared of his frying pans. Lol.

Hope this helps.

Signed,

GOLDY

[sesskagarchive]

November Author Spotlight - MythicaMagic

Q: Where can we find you and your stories? A: Dokuga, A03, and FF.net

Q: How would you describe your writing style? A: Hmm I'd say it's simplistic but that doesn't have to be a bad thing. Like I won't describe the intricacies of the wallpaper in a room but I'll tell you enough. There's no purple prose. I'd say it's almost like a storybook you'd read aloud- not overly flowery with its words, fairly easy to understand and casual, yet it makes up for it with emotions. I won't win any writing awards with my style but I'll (hopefully) make you feel something.

Q: What's one thing you'd tell someone who is considering reading one of your fics? A: Don't expect too much, haha. I'd say if you're in the mood for something different with light hearted concepts that steadily turn into angst filled drama which spins into hurt/comfort, my fics might be up your ally. I don't like outright unhappy endings so you most likely won't find any in my writing. There will usually be fluff and occasionally smut ^^

Q: How do you get/stay inspired to write? (ie: playlists, aesthetics, fanart, this blog, etc.) A: The community definitely helps (tumblr, discord, dokuga etc.) I've found that comments on my fics often help too, but largely it's music and films that give me inspiration. 

Q: What's your favorite SessKag moment from Inuyasha and why? A: I like the part where Kagome throws herself over an unconscious Inuyasha and acts as a shield, showing Sesshoumaru her back and hissing 'stay away, stupid!' He could've easily killed her and there's a tense kind of energy as they regard each other. He instead gives her advice about stopping Inuyasha's transformation with Tetsusaiga. Kagome then realises he went there specifically to stop his brother, in a roundabout way, helping him. I dunno it shows how perceptive she could be in a hypothetical scenario where they had to spend more time together alone, AND it shows Sesshoumaru's way of showing care; through actions, not words.

Q: What do you like most about the SessKag fandom? A: How it's still alive and stories are still updated every day, despite our ship being fanon and from a manga/show that ended years ago, we still show love and appreciation to our works. It's a lovely community. 

Self Rec Time! List the top 3 fics that you are most proud of writing.

Swimming in Silk

Conversing with Emotion

The Otome Game

Rec Time! List your top 3 favorite SessKag fics of all time.

Frivolous Sentimentalities by Tally Mark

Drowning Sorrows by Tally Mark

Unspoiled by forthright

[accioromione]

I love ron but there was a huge shift of his character from book 3 to 4, he went from literally not minding Harry's fame at all to always being jealous. It seemed so FORCED in book 4 onwards. Like jealous of the cup, jealous of him having gold, jealous of his robes, jealous of him being able to ask out any girl to the yule ball, jealous of Viktor I feel like because it was planned for him to leave she had to force that but it seemed unnatural tbh

I do think JKR pushed it with the Krum thing to kind of make it obvious Ron likes Hermione, otherwise people wouldn’t know right? She had to kind of make it over the top so like it's CLEAR that Ron likes her. If he’s okay with it, it just shows they’re good friends. I think that if this wasn't the case then Ron wouldn't have been as jealous, he’d be annoyed but get over it. As to the thing with Harry, Ron is pretty great overall with him. I think what you’re missing is how the books are told from Harry’s view and not Ron’s so you don’t really see how Ron’s experiencing things. 

So naturally, let me do an essay talking about Ron’s jealousy and where it stems from and why it’s justified. 

In the first book we see Ron and Harry becoming friends, people oggle at him, but Ron does not seem to mind. Becoming friends so early on, Ron ends up viewing Harry as a friend instead of the celebrity everyone else see’s him as. Ron assists Harry in taking down Voldemort in his first year, and he gets recognized for it by Dumbledore. Now people may not see this, but although he gets recognized- he is awarded 50 points. Now here is something to remember, at this moment- Slytherin is 160 points ahead of Gryffindor. Ron has just one them 50 points- yeah it’s great- but they need another 110 points to be tied.  Hermione gives them 50 extra points and starts crying. Then Harry is awarded 60. This makes them tied with Slytherin, and is obviously, 10 more points than Ron gone. So is once again, second best.  Ron’s moment is instantly overtook by Harry. Now Harry actually gets overtook by Neville winning 10 points, making Gryffindor win, Now in my opinion Ron doesn’t care at all because he immediately goes to cheer on neville, from book one to three I think Ron is generally okay with being overshadowed- but he just like anyone else would has a breaking point, which happens to be in Goblet of Fire . 

In the second book he goes  with Harry to the forbidden forrest, facing his arachnophobia, and goes to the chamber of secrets with him. It’s his broken wand that causes Lockhart to obliviate himself- otherwise the both of them would have been obliviated. And yes he has motives, it is his sister. But remember, Ginny has three other brothers in her school, does this mean they don’t care about her? Of course not. Ron just trusts Harry in a way that other characters can’t. Harry can talk to snakes and the whole school basically thinks he is the heir of Slytherin, so maybe falling Harry into a forbidden forrest or chamber of secrets isn’t something everyone is so keen on doing. But Ron trusts Harry and is willing to risk his life to be alongside him. Now is it ROn’s fault they get seperated in the chamber? No. Did Ron help as much as Harry, of course. Dumbledore gives them special services to the school for a reason. However a key thing to note is that Ginny does not see Ron. Who does she see? Harry. What is she going to tell her mum? Well, that Harry saved her. She is already a huge fan of him, so this already adds into her narrative. So what happens when Molly Weasley comes to see Ginny? She goes to hug Harry and thanks him right away, when Ron is right there. Ron says nothing, and he’s probably just happy that she’s safe. But what do you think happened when they went home that summer? Ginny gushed about Harry, she mentioned how he had saved her. Of course, she hadn’t seen Ron so it wasn’t her fault. But this yet again, shows Ron being overshadowed by Harry even though he himself contributed to her well being.

Come the third book, we see this quote

‘“Did you really blow up your aunt, Harry?” said Hermione in a very serious voice. “I didn’t mean to,” said Harry while Ron roared with laughter. “I just — lost control.” “It’s not funny, Ron,” said Hermione sharply. “Honestly, I’m amazed Harry wasn’t expelled.” “So am I,” admitted Harry. “Forget expelled, I thought I was go­ing to be arrested.” He looked at Ron. “Your dad doesn’t know why Fudge let me off, does he?” “Probably ’cause it’s you, isn’t it?” shrugged Ron, still chuckling. “Famous Harry Potter and all that. I’d hate to see what the Min­istry’d do to me if I blew up an aunt. Mind you, they’d have to dig me up first, because Mum would’ve killed me. Anyway, you can ask Dad yourself this evening. We’re staying at the Leaky Cauldron tonight too! So you can come to King’s Cross with us tomorrow! Hermione’s there as well!”

This shows that Ron is not ignorant to Harry’s favouritism, he is well aware that harry is more recognized than him. Obviously he is not mad, he’s laughing and thinks it’s great. But it shows how he is well aware that Harry has a treatment that he doesn't, this is important. This is where we get a glimpse of Ron’s perspective in the books. If you experience the events from Ron’s perspective, you’re going through all the adventures Harry goes through minus the same recognition. 

Now Goblet of Fire comes along, Harry is chosen to be in the tournament. Ron really wanted to sign up- but he was too young. Keep in mind he's mad at Harry because he thinks Harry found a way to sign up without him, not because he signed up. Ron deals with being pushed to the side all the time and genuinely cares about Harry. Ron just wants to be seen as his equal, he doesn’t care that Harry gets recognition. He literally just wants to be an equal counterpart. He apologizes when he see’s the danger Harry is in and puts that behind him. 

Order of the Phoenix Ron beats Harry in one thing- becoming a prefect, and Harry is instantly salty. Keep in mind that Ron has been dealing with this for FIVE YEARS, long term. This one little minuscule thing has Harry feeling some way. Instead of being happy, he APOLOGIZES to Harry. He says he was sure Harry was going to get it. This shows the regard he has for Harry, the difference is, unlike everything else, this is something they simply can’t both have, only one person can be prefect. Then we see Ron literally telling Harry all the things he’s faced and Harry rubbing it in Hermione and Ron’s faces that they haven’t experienced what he has. I personally thought this was so rude. Yes Harry stabbed the diary, yes Harry cast the patronus charm, and yes Harry saw Voldemort. But Ron was with him in the chamber, Ron drove the car, Ron kept Lockhart imprisoned, you think Ron can’t stab a book with a fang? Of course he can. Ron’s leg was literally broken in POA, and he still stood up on it to fight Sirius. Where have we ever seen a time where Ron can’t handle himself? Harry is different, he has this core connection with Voldemort, most of his victories are not due to him- take GOF for example. And what would Harry have done in POA without Hermione’s time turner? Nothing. GOF he wouldn’t have made it past the Dragon if Ron didn’t get Hagrid to tell him he was facing a dragon. Instead of Ron saying all of this he sits and takes it because he knows Harry has it worse than him in terms of Voldemort. He encourages Harry to start DA But also remember why the hell can Harry cast a patronus in the first place? Did he learn it himself? No! Lupin went out of his way to TEACH him, you think Ron wouldn't have been capable if Lupin had done the same with him? Of course, in DA we see Ron casting a patronus! He goes with Harry to the Ministry, he gets hit by a death eater, SO DOES Hermione Granger, why is Harry unaffected? Because the death eaters were TOLD not to harm Harry because VOLDEMORT wanted him! In the end Harry needs help, he needs the order and dumbledore. What comes out of all of this? Harry being recognized. That’s all. 

Come HBP , people don’t care about Luna or Neville, Hermione only mentions how Harry is so liked because people know how he was in the Ministry. Then the slug club comes, imagine a club like this in your school, that is BLATANT favouritism, Harry has all these fangirls, and then is a part of this club literally for his name. He’s also now quidditch captain- Ron isn’t even mad, he even jokes that Harry will be his captain if he lets him on the team again. Then he helps Harry yet again with the death eaters and all of that and then we go into DH. 

The jealousy comes into play with Harry and Hermione, which honestly Hermione had a part to play in this, Hermione does treat Harry differently from Ron, she’s like always more concerned about him and we know (well some of us) know it’s because he’s like her brother so it’s an overly protective sister kind of thing with him, but with Ron she likes him so she’s not as coddling, she treats him like she's his girlfriend which he fails to see. She also compliments Harry because it means nothing to her but she’s more reserved with complimenting Ron because she likes him (very teenager), she can say Harry’s handsome and not care but be too shy to say Ron is because of how she feels with regards to him.  Ron obviously misreads this. Anyways, at the end of the day,  him leaving isn’t down to jealousy, it’s down to frustration and Harrys’ lack of empathy for his family. When he comes back we see the Harry/Hermione thing which is just a bigger picture of giving insight to how Ron has seen everything. Ron is so good about it we never really heard his insecurities. But it’s sad how he see’s himself. So honestly, I feel for him and the man had a lot of patience. Hermione and Harry have no regards for his insecurities, Hermione mentions his insecurities ONCE in GOF and then goes onto say Harry should have been perfect, Harry is so brave for going in the ministry, I’m 100% Hermione thought she was giving Ron’s too many hints about her liking him so she didn’t feel like she had to compliment him. Like an ‘obviously I like you so I don’t need to tell how how much all the time,’ but you know Ron misreads it and he gives off that tough persona so Hermione fails to see how he is an actual puppy who hides behind humour. Tabloids are out about Harry and Hermione and how they’re so in love all of that, like he was justified for all his jealousies and he still stood and loved Harry none-the-less, so I think failure to recognize his experience takes from why he was jealous in the first place and that he’s not a bad person for being jealous given the situations he’s been put into. 

[oneweekoneband]

I’m slightly nauseous already with knowing I’m going to say this, but what does “self-awareness”  even mean? In modern parlance, as a descriptive phrase, as a comment on art? I’m asking in earnest, like, I’ve been Googling lately, which for me is basically on par with doctoral study in terms of academic rigor. The self is king, anyway, tyrant, so where is the line of distinction between material that intentionally is nodding at some truth about the artist’s life and what’s just, like, all the rest of the regular navel-gazing bullshit. I mean, I’m all self, I am guilty here. I can’t get it out of my poems or even make it more quiet. This is the tenth time I’ve invoked “I” in the space of six sentences. Processing art has always necessitated a certain amount of grappling with the creator, but the busywork of it lately grows more and more tedious. Joy drains out of my body parsing marks left behind not just in stylistic tendencies and themes, but in literal, intentional tags like graffiti on a water tower. This feels an age old and moth-holed complaint, dull, and I am no historian, or really a serious thinker of any kind. I’ve now complained at some length about self-referential art, but didn’t I love how Martin Scorsese nodded to the famous Goodfellas Copacabana tracking shot with the opening frames of last year’s The Irishman? Didn’t I find that terribly fun and sort of sweet? So there’s distinctions. I’m only saying I don’t know with certainty what they even are. I’m unreliable, and someone smarter than me has likely already solved my quandary about why self-knowledge often transforms into overly precious self-reflexivity in such a way that the knowledge is diminished and obscured, leaving only cutesy Easter eggs behind. Postmodernism has birthed a moralizing culture where art exists to be termed either “self-aware Good” or “self-aware Bad”.  Self-referentiality in media is so commonplace, so much the standard, that what was once credited as metatextual inventiveness often feels lazy now. In 1996, Scream was revitalizing a genre. Today, two thirds of all horror movies spend half their running time making sure that you know that they know they’re a horror movie, which is fine, I guess, except sometimes you just wanna watch someone get butchered with an axe in peace. 

This is all to say that in 2020 Taylor Swift looked long and hard upon her image in the reflecting pool of her heart and has written yet another song about Gone Girl.

“mirrorball” is a very good piece of Gone Girl —feels insane to tell anyone reading a post on a blog what Gone Girl is but, you know, the extremely popular 2012 novel about a woman who pretends to have been murdered and frames her husband for it, and subsequently the 2014 film adaption where you kinda see Ben Affleck’s dick for a second—fanfiction. It would be a fine song, a good song, really, even if it weren’t that, if it were just something normal and not unhinged written by a chill person who behaves in a regular way, but we need to acknowledge the facts for what they are. When Taylor Swift watched Rosamund Pike toss her freshly self-bobbed hair out of her face and hiss, “You think you’d be happy with some nice Midwestern girl? No way, baby. I’m it!” her brain lit up like a Christmas tree, and she’s never been the same. If you Google “taylor swift gone girl” there waiting for you will be a medium sized lake’s worth of articles speculating about how Gone Girl influenced and is referenced in past Swift singles “Blank Space” and “Look What You Made Me Do”. This is not new behavior, and if anything it’s getting a bit troubling to think that it’s been this long since Taylor’s read another book. Still, while the prior offerings were a fair attempt at this particular feat of depravity, “mirrorball” has brought Taylor’s Amy Elliott Dunne deification to stunning new heights. And most importantly, Taylor has done a service to every person alive with more than six brain cells and a Internet connection by putting an end to the “Cool Girl” discourse once and for all. By the power invested in “mirrorball”, it is hereby decreed that the Cool Girl speech from Gone Girl is neither feminist or antifeminist, not ironic nor aspirational. No. It’s something much better than all that. It’s a threat. I ! Can ! Change ! Everything ! About ! Me ! To ! Fit ! In !

Gone Girl (2012) by Gillian Flynn

“mirrorball” (2020) by Taylor Swift

When the twinkly musical stylings of Jack Antonoff, a man I distinctly distrust, but for no one specific reason, whirl to life at the beginning of this song I feel instantly entranced, blurry-brained and pleasure-pickled like an infant beneath a light-up crib mobile or, I guess, myself in the old times, the outside times, three tequila sodas deep under the disco lights at The Short Stop. Under a mirrorball in my head. I know very little about music, as a craft, and I really don’t care to know more. I’m happy in a world of pure, dumb sensation. I’m not even sure what kind of instruments are making these jangly little sounds. I just like it. I am vibing. We may not ever be able to behave badly in a club again, but I can sway to my stupid Taylor Swift-and-the-brother-of-the-lady-who-makes-like-those-sweatshirts-with-little-sayings-or-like-vulvas-which-famous-white-women-wear-on-instagram-you-know-what-I-mean song, pressing up onto my tiptoes on the linoleum tile of our kitchen floor and can feel for a second or two something approaching bliss. “mirrorball” is a lush sound bath that I like a lot and then also it’s about being all things to all people, chameleoning at a second’s notice, doing Oscar worthy work on every Zoom call, performing the you who is good, performing the you who is funny, performing the you who draws a liter of your own blood and throws it around the kitchen then cleans it up badly all to get your husband sent to jail for sleeping with a college student... Too much talk about making and unmaking of the self is way too, like, 2012 Tumblr for me now, and I start hearing the word “praxis” ring threateningly in my head, but I’m not yet so evolved that I don’t feel a pull. Musings on the disorganized self—on how we are new all the time, and not just because of all the fresh skin coming up under the dead, personhood in the end so frighteningly flexible—are always going to compel me, I’m afraid, but that goes double for musings on the disorganized self which posit that Taylor Swift still thinks Amy Dunne made some points.

Because on “mirrorball” Taylor is for once not hamfistedly addressing some “hater”, in the quiet and the lack of embarrassing martyrdom it actually offers an interesting answer to the complaint that Taylor is insufficiently self-aware. This criticism emerges often in tandem with claiming to have discovered some crack in the chassis of Swift’s public self, revealing the sweetness to be insincere. My instinct is to dismiss this more or less out of hand as just a mutation of the school of thought that presumes all work by women must be autobiography. And, regardless, it is made altogether laughable by the fact that anyone actually paying attention has known since at least Speak Now, a delightful record populated by the most appalling, horrible characters imaginable, and all of them written by a twenty year old Taylor Swift, that this woman is a pure weirdo. To accuse Taylor Swift of lacking in self-awareness is a reductive misunderstanding, I think, of artifice. Being a fake bitch takes work. Which is to say, if we agree that her public self is a calculated performance—eliding the fact that all public selves are a performance to avoid getting too in the weeds yadda yadda— why, then, should it be presumed that performance is rooted in ignorance? Would it not make more sense that, in fact, someone able to contort themselves so ably into various shapes for public consumption would have a certain understanding of the basic materials they’re working with and concealing? Taylor Swift, in a decade and a half of fame, has presented herself from inside a number of distinct packages. The gangly teenager draped in long curls like climbing wisteria who wrote lyrics down her arms in glitter paint gave way to red lipstick, a Diet Coke campaign, and bad dancing at awards shows. There was the period where she was surrounded constantly by a gaggle of models, then suddenly wasn’t anymore, and that rough interlude with the bleached hair. The whole Polaroid thing. Last year she boldly revealed she’s a democrat. Now it’s the end of the world and she’s got frizzy bangs and flannels and muted little piano songs. Perhaps this endless shape-shifting contradicts or undermines, for some, the pose of tender authenticity which has remained static through each phase, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t been doing it all on purpose the entire time. I’ve never been a natural, all I do is try, try, try...

In the Disney+ documentary—which, in order to watch, I had to grudgingly give the vile mouse seven dollars, because the login information that I’d begged off of my little sister didn’t work and I was too embarrassed to bring it up a second time—Taylor referred to “mirrorball” as the first time on the album where she explicitly addressed the pandemic, referring to the lyrics that start, “And they called off the circus, Burned the disco down,” and end with “I’m still on that tightrope, I’m still trying everything to get you laughing at me,” which actually did made me laugh, feeling sort of warmly foolish and a little fond, because it never would have occurred to me that she was trying to be literal there. I suppose we really do all contain multitudes. Hate that.

[munamania]

the promise (ch. 1)

a/n: hi yes i wrote for the clown gays like a year ago and im deciding to post this now sjdghfg pls be kind

pair: richie tozier/eddie kaspbrak

word count: 8.5k

warnings: swearing, blood ment, homophobic slurs, abuse mentions, psychological trickery, richie’s parents start out a lil absent but they get better i promise

excerpt:   “You’re gonna miss curfew, Rich,” Eddie mumbles, leaning out the window on his elbows. And Richie hears it: you’re alone, you know what could happen. Stay safe.

“I’m not afraid, Eds.” He means it. Richie can’t draw up what fear even feels like right then. With a flick of an eyebrow, he nods toward the door. “Mother is waiting.” 

“I know.”

read on ao3

 No, it’s not that Richie is gay. It’s not like he daydreams about taking it up the ass all fucking day.

 Henry Bowers and his dipshit crew might have a different opinion, but they can honestly, truly suck his dick (in the non-homo way - he has taste). The fact that they took joy in throwing him and his friends around, calling them names, and threatening their whole lives never mattered before; the losers took care of each other, and most of the time it was easy to forget about those other assholes.

 Being called four-eyes when he needed glasses in the second grade never got to him that bad - they were saving him from having to see their ugly faces when they knocked them off, so really, he should have thanked them - and he didn’t care when they shoved him around for being short before his growth spurt, and it didn’t even bother him that much when they mocked his totally refined voices. He knew his own talent, and what he could do with it if he could just focus.

 But the first time they singled him out as the fag of the group, well, it stung.

 He never told the others about that day. He never told them how long he cried, how broken he felt sobbing on that park bench. He never worked up the nerve to tell them why he couldn’t face Paul Bunyan anymore, no, he simply breezed past without lifting his eyes, without missing a beat of conversation.

 At least it got easier with time.

 All things considered, his home life isn’t terrible.

 Richie has his own room, a roof, and usually a decently-stocked fridge. Enough to get by.

 He’s left alone a lot. His parents are always at work, and when they’re not, they take on the personalities of monotonous robots sitting in front of the TV, so he spends a lot of time skimming through comics or jacking off when he’s not running around with his friends.

 But, that’s just the thing. Somehow, Richie, life of every conversation, King of Comedy, Trashmouth, funny-man Tozier, was born to the most boring people of all time. They never engage with his jokes; on a good day, he receives a breezy, “That’s nice, sweetie,” from his mom, or, “Okay, that’s enough, son,” from his dad. Blank stares. Pasty, purple-tinted white eyes. Never a hug, never much past a ‘goodnight.’ Not even a simple, “How was school?” when they got home.

 Richie vividly remembers the day that he bounced in his seat at the end-of-the-year ceremony at school, a bustling bundle of nerves prepared to brag and boast to his parents about his awards in science and, surprisingly (his teacher hated him) English - he took to the dramatics of Shakespeare quite well. He practiced his entrance to them several times over in his head, perhaps overly, unconvincingly modest or Shakespeare wants what I have. Anything to get a laugh. A ruffle of his hair from his dad. A forehead kiss from his mom, like when he was little.

 They didn’t show. He still doesn’t know where he went wrong.

 In a stark, bubbling contrast to his parents, there’s this kid in his group of friends. He remembers one of the first times they met, the boy approaching him, all sweet apple-cheeked and neat polo and ironed khaki shorts; Richie had flicked an eyebrow upward, a not-so-subtle really?, because he never figured that clean-freak Eddie Kaspbrak would be able to handle more than three seconds in Trashmouth Tozier’s presence.

 But boy, was he a lot of fun.

 Eddie was loud and super easily wound-up, screaming about fucking UTIs and do not fucking push me man all the piss on the walls of this city could fill the lake and despite his good-boy appearance, he shot back with just as much fire as Richie threw at him.

 And fuck, Richie loves it. He loves the ease with which they bounce back and forth. He loves the fury in the boy’s eyes when Richie pisses him off, the laughter that always comes about between them once they settle. The crossing arms and pouting Eddie, who he theorizes secretly loves it when Richie calls him pet names (not that he’d ever admit it); the loud and greatly-gesticulating Eddie who yells louder and pushes harder when Richie coos at him; the one who quietly accepts Richie’s affection, and offers it back in subtle ways: simply holding Richie’s arm when he slings his arms around Eddie’s neck from behind, allowing him to sit next to him thigh-to-thigh, and overall not completely cringing and pushing him off. He took it as a compliment, though they’d never mention it out loud.

 On an unfortunate night, his comfortable little world comes crashing down.

 His parents are out for some sort of conference weekend trip or whatever, and they’ve called in his deadbeat uncle to ‘watch over the house.’ Not necessarily him (probably because he isn’t home that much), but the house obviously can’t stand up by itself—and, well, maybe they didn’t trust Richie to not accidentally leave the door open, or leave the stove on, or some other stupidly irresponsible little thing. So, the crusty old guy shows up with his greasy, oiled hair and his lack of deodorant and his wilting knees. It makes Richie miss Eddie so, so much when they part, because a.) he smells a lot better, and b.) it would be fucking hilarious for him to see what Richie has to put up with. Like, he’s really not the most rodent-like of his family.

 Anyway, Richie doesn’t remember what he says. Something slightly instigative, about the lack of any gourmet-level food in the house (he claimed calmly while wasting away on microwave tater tots and bread, even though his parents had left behind plenty of money to keep him alive), and then suddenly hands were on him.

 It stings like a bitch.

 His uncle gets up, with a quiet mumble that Richie makes out to be, “Well, let’s see…” and when he finally gets in the kitchen, facing Richie with eyes rung red and shaking fists, he grabs his nephew by a fistful of t-shirt and shoves him against the counter.

 At that moment, he really wants his mom. Why the fuck did she and dad leave him with this guy?

 “I don’t see you fucking working, or doing much of anything around here, kiddo.”

 “Funny, I was gonna say the same to you.”

 A blow to his mouth. Richie resists the urge to lift trembling fingers to the spot that he can feel swelling.

 “Don’t talk to me like that, asshole! You think you’re so fucking funny, huh?” His uncle drags him forward and shoves him back with conviction, and this time Richie doesn’t answer.

 He should have known to stay quiet when he saw his uncle drinking and smoking incessantly in the house, even though his mother had requested that he stay outside for that. It must have been a rough day at the bar, or wherever the fuck he spent his time.

 “You need to learn when to be quiet, dipshit. Have some fucking respect.”

 For the guy who ignored him for years, didn’t stay in touch, and wasted his existence away on the couch.

 Right.

 But Richie is snapped from his indignant, grounding thoughts when his uncle lowers his voice. “Do I make myself clear?”

 Richie frowns in his face, utterly confused from the swell of attention, still limply holding a bag of bread in his left hand.

 “Do I make myself clear?”

 “Y-yes sir.”

 The wretched man makes a point to push him into the corner of the cupboards with such a force that he collapses to his knees and can just feel the bruises forming. And he sits there for a minute, all sorts of betrayal and anger and sadness suffocating him.

 But he stands up.

 And with stinging eyes, a stuffy nose, and shaking hands, he makes himself a simple peanut butter sandwich.

 And he stays upstairs for the remainder of the night

 It’s a warm, soothing day outside; the sun glows and birds are chirping like some kind of fucking cartoon. In the tall grass the losers sit in frogs croak and crickets chirp and they make a mess of themselves in the circle they form.

 “Damn, Rich, what happened to you?” comes Stan’s voice, concerned eyes flashing down to his now royally fucked-up mouth.

 “Yeah, dude, what the fuck?” says Bev through a sandwich, truly a charmer.

 Richie grins at Bev but answers to Stan, ignoring the sting in the corner of his lips. “Guess I’m a fighter at heart.”

 “Richie—“

 Bev chimes in once again, a bright, snarky grin on her face, “Richie, you can tell us if it was another accident, we won’t judge. Promise.”

 Bev has a way about her; he knows she’s not genuinely the largest, most gaping asshole on earth, and that she actually cared a lot and cried over her friends in the darkest nights, but she also knew how to make light of something dark (even the worst). She probably knew. She probably just had his back in her own funny way, like taking the pressure off the reality.

 “Bev, I’ve really, truly, always appreciated your charm, but as my dearest favorite person on earth, fuck off.”

 “Richie,” Bill says, then hesitates. In that time, Bev flips Richie the bird, which he answers with an air kiss. “What really h-ah-happened?” He looks him over with a frown, clear blue eyes swallowing him in concern and maybe love.

 Richie offers a simple smirk before settling against the trunk of a tree. “Don’t worry about it, Billiam. I’ve got it under control.”

 “Whatever you say,” Bev says. She tosses a baggie over to him with his favorite sandwich.

 Stan isn’t so easily convinced, eyeing Richie up carefully, but he sits with Bev on the boulder she’s settled on when Richie doesn’t falter in his casual disposition.

 It takes a lot of work, as always.

 Ben shows up moments later, with a calm and tender, “You alright, Rich?” and when Richie goes off on a stupid tough-guy spiel, he simply lays at the foot of the boulder and flicks open a book, meeting Richie with one of his melting smiles, a gentle invitation, a sweet If you ever need it, I’m there, but allowing him the space to go on as normal. Which is nice.

 Richie knows they all care. He knows he could tell them, could pour all of the terror and tragedy he felt the night before into the air and they’d fill up the space; Mike would give him the tightest hug in the world, one to combat the most heinous of things; Stan would sit with him as long as he needed it, Bev would come through with a smoke and the best advice in the world, and Ben would tell him stories or just hang out with him until everything felt a bit lighter, and Bill would give him anything in the world because Richie would do it back. That’s the way they were.

 But he can’t do it.

 “Sorry I’m late guys,” comes a nasally voice, huffing and puffing, new pressure leaning against the tree, and Richie grins. Eddie.

 “It’s okay, Eds,” he says, reaching over a few fingers to tickle Eddie’s knee, giggling when the boy smacks at his hand and doubles over with an exclamatory, Richie!  

 The others offer a few sleepy greetings, all soaked up in their own forms of entertainment for the quiet afternoon: Bev and Ben, heads close enough to share his walkman; Stan, reading some lengthy oath to birds or something; Mike snoozing lightly on Bill’s shoulder while Bill pores over some adventure map from a fantasy novel.

 They had all agreed that it was too tiresome to go swimming today, as the previous night was spent out at Stan’s with a bonfire, and for a few of them, some stolen booze (not very much, but enough that they could pretend to be drunk and giggle profusely). But they still wanted to hang out, so this was the middle ground. An afternoon picnic in the shade.

 Eddie quickly notices his lip and drops down to his side. “Richie, what happened to you? Was it Bowers again? I swear to god, I will fucking kill that guy--”

 Richie smiles softly at the protective words, and tries to turn it into a smirk. “Eddie, baby, don’t worry,” he says. “It’s just a little bump.”

 Surprisingly, Eddie sidles up next to him, using the pad of his thumb to press at the sides of Richie’s mouth, apparently assessing some sort of damage. “Don’t call me that.” He scowls. “What did you do? Did you ice it? Clean this cut at all? Cause you could get an infection, you know, you really should clean it.”

 Richie bats his eyes. “Clean it for me, sweets?”

 “Fuck off. Forget I cared.”

 “Ah, come on, Spaghettio. I didn’t mean it.” He pulls Eddie down with a simple gesture, pressing his palm to the boy’s shoulder and dragging. The boy rests against the trunk, nestled in Richie’s side.

 But that’s the complicated thing. He sorta wishes he could mean it. In a small, poking-at-the-back-of-his-head-always kind of way.

 “Just—tell me what happened,” Eddie pipes up quietly from his side.

 When Richie glances down, he takes to heart how disgruntled Eddie still looks, crossing his arms and almost pouting.

 He shrugs. “Your mother was simply affronted by how good I am with my mouth, Eds, she couldn’t take it anymore.”

 Eddie presses his mouth into a line, rolls his eyes at the stupid British voice Richie had developed, and busies himself with a thrilling edition of The Lancet

 Later, as dusk settles in and pale purple skies replace the bright blue, and the club leaves with simple ‘goodbye’s and promises to do something fun tomorrow, Eddie shifts from his nap. He’d passed out with his head slammed back against Richie’s arm (he’d caught it just before he fell to the ground, avoiding a lengthy rant about potential concussions and medical bills), curled in the opposite direction from Richie’s abdomen. As he wakes, through, he rolls over, elbow digging into Richie’s side.

 “Ah-ow,” Richie groans, sitting up from his cataconic state of reading Ben’s stolen comics and avoiding moving and waking Eddie. But he’d just dug the pointiest part of his entire firecracker body into Richie’s ribs, where Richie had attempted and failed to nurse a bruise he’d accrued from a vicious cupboard corner. It was at an awkward angle, and he refused to go down to get more ice packs once they melted, so he slept unsoundly and laid uncomfortably.

 “Sorry,” Eddie mumbles, voice muddled with sleep. “Shit, it’s late. When did I fall asleep? My mom’s gonna kill me.”

 Even in that gurgly, world upside-down state of post-nap consciousness, the boy freaks out about his mother. Richie sighs and rubs his shoulder.

 “You’re all good, Eddie boy,” he attempts for a creaky, witchy voice, but it’s half-assed because he gets so tired of this lady. Not Eddie ranting, that was fine, and he knew the kid needed to get it out of his system; but he was fucking tired of Mrs. K hurting his boy. “You took your meds on time, fell asleep shortly after. Might need to amputate my arm now, though.”

His boy.

 Eddie sits up, and Richie stares at his back, illuminated in the dusk, because he wore a fun yellow today, resting prettily against his tanned, freckled skin.

 (Maybe Richie had looked over, amused, for a few moments, as Eddie snored and twitched his nose in his sleep; and he counted the freckles on Eddie’s arm, his cheek, whatever he could see for entertainment.)

 Eddie glances back at him, and Richie distracts himself with his bag, shifting his eyes awkwardly from the boy’s gaze.

 “Well, well, good sir, shall I walk you home on this fine night?”

 Eddie’s brow furrows. “Richie, what’s that?”

 His eyes are trained intently on the aforementioned bruise, and its cousins that pepper his hips, only exposed because he slipped and let his shirt ride up when he bent over.

 He clears his throat, scrambling for some dumbass answer, wholeheartedly unprepared for the severity of this conversation. “You know how the ladies throw themselves—“

 “Okay, you know what, fine.” Eddie stands quickly, stumbling slightly, and braces himself against the tree. “You don't have to fucking tell me. Just come home with me, okay?”

 “A night with Eddie Kaspbrak? Why, you’re really a dream-come-true kind of guy.”

 “Your lip is bleeding again,” he responds simply, apparently not one for      fun    at this very moment. “I can clean it.”

 Richie pops up from the ground, feeling quite pip pip, tally ho about the whole thing. “Righty-o, Eddie boy.

 That’s how he ends up sitting on the edge of Eddie’s porcelain-white bathtub, dirtying it with his messy jeans and dirt-coated nails.

 It takes a lot of strategic planning, lots of sneaking past Mrs. K, and then sweet-talking and kisses from Eddie once she wakes up freaking out about how late he was. But, after about fifteen minutes of contest-worthy screeching from the woman, Eddie stomps up the stairs, slams the door with a very I’m gonna pull my hair out look, and has to take about three extra minutes to compose himself, ranting under his breath.

 Richie just stares at his distorted reflection in the shining silvery faucet, the violet under his eyes and the renewed puffiness of his lip, Hawaiian pattern of his shirt disheveled in the odd mirror.

 He knows not to engage unless Eddie actually speaks up to him, meaning this run-in was probably just overly grating and mentally draining, considering, well, how his mother is. He just needs a second to get it out, not any kind of heartfelt talk (which Richie sucks at anyway) or even a lighthearted joke. The boy paces and growls into a fist. Then, eventually, he breathes, “Okay.”

 Eighteen minutes. Eighteen minutes of sitting around and waiting for Eddie, just for him to kneel in front of Richie, doe eyes clear and focused, dabbing so, so gently at his battered lip.

 In a way, it’s heaven.

 “I take it your mom can’t wait for me to buy dinner, eh?”

 Eddie sighs. “Apparently this time I’m gonna contract malaria, Rich, didn’t you know? There’s an incredible outbreak this time of year and I’m obviously not prepared to avoid fucking mosquitoes, what with my fifteen bottles of bug spray and essential oils. I’ll probably die tomorrow!”

 “I will make sure that your funeral is a fucking rager dude, don’t you worry. Booze on me.”

 A ghost of a smile.

 “Richie…” he breathes out in a long winded way, saying nothing and everything for way too long. “Why don’t you stay here tonight?”

 Richie raises an eyebrow. “Man, I thought you were gonna back out on your previous offer, but I guess the call for a night with Richie Tozier is too much to back away from. I get it.” He smiles painfully at the way Eddie’s face crumples with something like boredom. “Christ, dude, what’s your poison?” He makes a face at the antiseptic substance that trickles into his mouth.

 “Maybe if you kept your mouth shut for once, this wouldn’t be an issue.”

 Richie beams, which just causes Eddie to huff even more.

 “Please, just stay still!

 “It was my uncle,” Richie finally says, forcing a bored expression onto his face as he flips through a rather dull magazine, sprawled on Eddie’s bed. “And it wasn’t a big deal.”

 Panic flashes across Eddie’s face. His cheeks burn red, and his leg jitters anxiously against Richie’s, but his voice remains level, which Richie thanks dear lordy Jesus for. “Your uncle? He hit you?”

 “Well,” Richie pauses. “Uh, kinda. He was just really drunk, Eds, and he got mad and I was in the way.”

 “In the way?”

 He shrugs, a small smile quirking his lip up. “Am I not usually?”

 “Rich.” Eddie’s voice is really soft in that moment, gentler and quieter than anything Richie has heard from him in all the time he’s known his fellow loudmouth. It simultaneously terrifies and thrills him. Eds. Eddie brings his knees to his chest, leaning back against the headboard. “You say a lot of dumb shit, but that doesn’t mean you should be hurt.” He must notice Richie’s uncomfortable look, because he adds lightly, “Most of the time, anyway.”

 “Woah, Eddie, don’t go overboard with the kindness or anything--”

 “Damn it, Richie.” He casts his eyes downward. “I’m just trying to say - um - thanks for telling me. Sorry if that’s fucked up to say, but I know you didn’t want to, so, yeah. We don’t have to talk about it anymore.”

 Richie swallows deeply with a slow nod, focusing his eyes on the blurry words in front of him. “Well, if there’s anyone I’d tell, it’s Dr. K. He’s gonna be the one to save my life, right?”

 Eddie rolls his eyes. “Right.” He kicks at Richie’s foot, a subtle way of telling him to move over so he can get under the covers.

 “Night, toots.”

 “Goodnight, Richie.

 Richie thinks he knows everything possible about Eddie thus far.

 He knows when he needs to take his meds, an internal clock he recently developed; he knows that the boy is not nearly as fragile as he sometimes seems, and if he really tried, he could pack a punch; he knows that he loves fervently and he’ll always take care of his friends, even if it’s in a way that would usually disgust him.

 Case in point: he didn’t seem to freak out at Richie’s bleeding lip, even when a steady stream of blood started dripping down his chin from the contact of trying to clean it out, though he usually cringed if he got so much as a scratch from a twig. Somehow, some way, he simply held pressure on the wound and told Richie to hold some ice on it (“Ordering me around now, hot stuff? I can work with that,”), and washed his own hands thoroughly in the sink.

 What he doesn’t know until that night, is that Eddie is a cuddler. At least, half-asleep, groggy Eddie is. Like, this kid must be more starved for affection than he is. Richie had curled himself in a ball toward the edge of the mattress, willing himself not to do so much as even press his back against Eddie’s, way too afraid of the ease with which two people can tangle themselves together in the night, terrified of what would happen if he woke up with Eddie’s hands on him, wrapped up in Eddie, Eddie’s terrible morning breath against his cheek, Eddie Eddie Eddie. But while Richie had stressed himself into falling halfway off the bed, Eddie had flopped over in his sleep, slung an arm across Richie’s waist and, seeming to sense that he had something to hold, pulled him in tight to his chest. Though Richie’s breath caught in his throat, he figured, well, no one could really see them then, so what was the harm in passing out like that? No one had to know. He could pass it off like he’d been sleeping the whole time.

 But he cherishes every fucking minute of it

 Richie wakes to the sound of something pounding, a steady beat, and in that state of slowly waking from a dream he thinks it’s some old drum, playing lowly in the corner by some restless figure. When he comes to, his eyes creaking open slowly, he sees the gentle orange-ish hue of the morning sky, the neat room around him, the scent of detergent and soothing fabric softener wafting near his face. And he realizes his head is tucked into Eddie’s side, the boy’s slowed heartbeat thumping softly against his ear.

 Normally, he’d just let Eddie sleep, as he’s usually only the asshole waking everyone up when it’s the whole gang. He doesn’t mind spending a few hours by himself in the morning. In fact, he enjoys the opportunity to try to fall back asleep (even though he never does).

 But with a sudden impulse, he lays a palm on Eddie’s ribcage and pushes himself up onto his elbows, then shakes the boy.

 “Eddie.”

 A muffled, “Mmph?”

 “Eds, wake up.”

 The boy drags a pillow over his ears for all of two seconds before Richie tickles his stomach. Then he crankily sits up and lets out a gruff, “What?”

 Richie grins. “The sunrise, Eds! Look, it’s so pretty, you have to believe me.”

 Eddie responds by laying his cheek on Richie’s shoulder blade, slumping forward with his eyes still closed. “You do know,” he breathes, “that if the sun is just rising, it’s like, six a.m.?”

 “Hmm, 5:49, but close enough, I suppose.”

 The most huffy breath that Eddie can manage at this hour tickles the hairs on the back of Richie’s neck. “Did you know that people who don’t sleep enough die a lot younger? There are serious health consequences.” It doesn’t come out in his usual fiery, punctuated tone; it’s soft and filled with a yawn and he’s pretty sure Eddie might fall back asleep just like that. “You can’t die early on me, Richie. And I don’t want to. Go back to sleep.” He peeks one eye open at the window, squinting at the glow of the sun. “It is pretty, though.” With that, he falls back against the pillow and curls into a ball against the wall.

 And Richie’s pretty damn sure in that moment that he’s, like, in love

 And, sure, that’s terrifying.

 He has no one to talk to about it and nothing could convince him it’s normal, so he shrugs it off and pretends it isn’t there.

 Cause that’s a good way to cope, right?

 It doesn’t matter that Eddie is so easily comfortable with him—he’s a low-pressure person, is all. And no one had called out the way pet names rolled off Richie’s tongue so easily, because that was just a part of his joke. Normal. Easy.

 Until it wasn’t

 You see, there’s this bitch Pennywise. This idiot clown terrorizes his friends, kills people, haunts their nights and days, and fucks with their minds. Tries to turn them against each other. And they can’t even throw a jest back! It’s a sick system.

 Well, anyway, the losers end up in some crickety, wooden, falling-apart-at-the-seams murder house on Neibolt, because Bill wants to find his brother and none of them are willing to abandon him. Instead, Richie gets to see himself dead, face off with a monstrous fucking clown, and hear heart-wrenching screams from Eddie that he can’t even help, because he can’t get out.

 When he does, he reunites with Stan and Bill, using the few seconds he has to catch his breath.

 Just as quickly, he loses it.

 In front of him lies Eddie, arm twisted at the ugliest, most heinous angle, and not only is he probably in pain and freaking out about the arm, but a 7-foot tall clown is sauntering towards him with a stupid swaggering gait, like it knows that they can’t do anything to save Eddie.

Eddie.

 The boy cowers against dust and fallen wood that must be itching to give him splinters; tears streak down his dirty face and his chest rises and falls rapidly, as Pennywise taunts him. Fucking horses around, making stupid noises and joking while Eddie falls apart, and Richie doesn’t know how to save him, even after everything Eddie’s done for him. Richie is vaguely aware of Stan grasping his shoulder, trying to ground him, and he silently thanks him as he glances around for fucking anything to use as a weapon, because he certainly can’t jump into this blindly--

 Then Beverly busts into the room and stabs the bitch in the head, and Richie can’t think but his feet are moving and he lands in front of Eddie in the few seconds’ time he has to play catch-up. He reminds himself to remind Bev of just how much he loves her later.

 For now, though, his focus is Eddie. His ears are ringing and he’s noted the commotion going on behind him, he even realizes that Bill ends up at his side, but his gaze is right on his Eds, grasping at his face, trying to do anything to help him.

 “Eds. No, no, no! Look at me! It’s okay. Please be okay.” He steadies his voice and tries really hard not to think about how much he sucks as a caretaker, how he has no fucking clue what to do, but he’s scared and he desperately just wants to take Eddie from the room and keep him safe, forever and ever.

 Terror-filled eyes find him as the clown continues toward the three of them, flexing horrendous claws; Richie kneels in front of Eddie and Bill’s at his back, and Richie knows Eddie acknowledges him but he’s whimpering and shaking and staring back at the clown. And Pennywise is thriving.

 “Eds,” he says, louder, grabbing Eddie’s chin and forcing it in his direction. “Please just - fuck the clown, okay? Fuck everything. It’s me and you. I’ve got you.” And he’d probably be much more convincing if he weren’t shouting and clinging to Eddie’s shoulders like it means death.

But, he seems to capture the boy’s attention, as he keeps his eyes steadily on Richie and blinks a few times. “My arm!” he cries. “Fuck, I can’t fucking move. I’m gonna die. It hurts, Rich.”

 “Hey, you’re not gonna die. I don’t die early on you, you don’t die early on me. That’s the deal.”

 “Some deals are made to be broken.”

 Eddie is just staring at him, blank eyes staring through him with a grin, a stark contrast to the screaming that was going on just moments before. A surge of panic rises in Richie’s chest, like a freezing wind knocking through his stupid little preteen body. He shakes his head in confusion.

 “Eddie, shut up. It’s just your arm. You’re gonna be fine!”

 A shrug. “Who’s to say?” And then he sits up, arm convulsing at his side like some dying snake, and Richie flinches and flies back into Bill’s chest. He can’t do this. He can’t help Eddie like he should, he can’t take care of him like he wants to. He’s a coward.

 “Rich.” Bill is a million miles away.

 Right here, right now, is that thing in Eddie’s place, body rattling like a rag doll. “They’ll find out.” Eddie’s voice is fucked up, scratchy, and his eyes are all wrong; the way he’s staring at him is fucking uncanny. “Get too touchy, Rich, and you know what’ll happen.”

 “Stop, please, fucking stop!”

 “Richie!” Bill is finally right there, shaking both of his shoulders from behind. “S-stop. You’re f-f-fine. It’s just fucking with your head.”

 It takes a few deep breaths, but Richie turns to him and says a quick, ‘Thanks,’ before turning back to real-Eddie, who is now dry-heaving and wailing at the sight of his arm.

 Eddie’s chest thrusts forward and back rapidly, and he keeps trying to back further from the bedlam in front of them. His face contorts into an absolutely heart-wrenching cry, and as he looks at Richie, gripping his hand with an iron fist, Richie’s heart splits in two. It’s hard, it’s way too hard not to say I love you, after all that. And it’s hard not to run.

 “I don’t wanna die - ”

 Richie crawls closer to cradle Eddie’s head. “Eddie, if you die I’ll kill you.” He wants to go home, he wants to cry, he wants to sleep for about three days and pretend this never happened. But he can’t. He has to be here for Eddie, as much as he wants to flee right now. “You’re not going to, you know that? I still owe you ice cream. And I’m gonna get you inside the arcade—“

 “Fuck the arcade!”

 Somehow, in all of the fuckery going on, Richie laughs. “That’s the spirit!” Eddie, in a scramble to back away from the startle of Pennywise running away, shifts into Richie’s lap. “Okay, Eddie, breathe.” Richie gulps down a breath himself. “I’m gonna snap your arm back into place.”

Eddie’s eyes light up, completely on fire, spitting poison at Richie. “Rich! Do not fucking touch me!”

 Richie winces at the words but he hears Bev screaming, “Richie, his arm!” and uses the moment of yelling to just do it, to get Eddie’s arm back to a relatively normal shape, and then he’s screaming and it’s like he wants Richie to cry in front of everyone.

 “Okay okay okay, it’s done. No more.” Richie, awkward and lost at what to do, brushes back sweaty hair from Eddie’s forehead, because he’s pretty sure the boy would hate how sticky everything had gotten, and if he could help even one thing, well, it’s something.

 He wishes he could help carry Eddie home, sit with him in the hospital, anything to cheer him up.

 But he doesn’t get the chance. Mrs. K is outside and snatches Eddie from the losers in the flash of an eye, talking like they broke his fucking arm or something.

 That’s when it all goes downhill

 Richie storms away from his stupid feud with Bill, the fucking dumbass who punched him in the face because he said he didn’t want a clown to kill him and his friends. He thinks it’s the most reasonable thing he’s ever said, objectively, but whatever. He doesn’t want to lose his friends. But in that moment, he doesn’t see many other options.

 When he trudges back home after his third day alone at the arcade, following newly-formed muscle memory to avoid his uncle (close the door slowly, shift weight and run upstairs, wait at least twenty minutes to go back down for food in case he stirs), he notices another car. Immediately, Richie throws open the doors, calling out, “Mom!” and finds her in the kitchen, with his uncle.

 “Hey sweetie, I just got home—“ she startles at the sight of him.

 “Jeez, that bad?” he jokes, running a hand through his hair. “Just remember, mom, half of this is ‘cause of you.”

 She approaches him quickly, summer blazer flowing behind her from the speed, and crouches down just slightly to be at eye-level. “Richie, honey, what did you do to your lip?” she asks. He doesn’t realize right away, but he tilts his head into her touch, and she strokes his cheek gently.

 Richie had forgotten about the whole ordeal—his friends almost dying at the hands of a killer clown was pretty damn distracting from his low-life uncle—but now, he sets a spitting glare on the man leaning back and manspreading at their kitchen table.

 “Uncle Alan had a few kind words to say over dinner the other night.”

 Her tender touch to his face is lost when she whips around to face his uncle, and Richie feels like a little kid again, standing behind his mom and clutching at her coat while she takes care of everything.

 “You hit him?” she says, her voice threatening in a low mumble, teeth clenched together. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You touched my kid?” She holds back a hand as though to shield Richie as she slams her other fist on the table.

 “How do you know it wasn’t one of his faggy friends? Or maybe some other kid with common fucking sense?”

 She leans down and takes him by the front of his shirt. “Don’t you dare, Alan. What the fuck were you thinking?”

 Uncle Alan yells back in her face, spit flying, and Richie would jump forward to defend her if she weren’t holding him back so protectively (with one hand!). “Listen, Maggie, if he’s gonna act like that, I’m just preparing him for the real world.”

 “You absolute shit! You don’t get to make that decision!” Richie has never, ever seen his mother so angry. “You battered a twelve year old boy! What, do you feel really big now, you pathetic piece of shit? Get the fuck out of my house!” At this point, she’s shaken him and thrown him back against the chair so he falls, catching himself just in time as it cascades to the ground.

 “Fuck you, Maggie!”

 She follows him down the hall.

 “Fuck you!” Richie calls out at his retreating back, before his mother screams about pressing charges and slams the door behind him.

 Richie’s mom rushes back into the kitchen to face him. She’s red in the face, eyes on fire, but she softens at the sight of him.

 “Richie, sweetheart, I’m sorry we left you.” She cradles his face again. “Hey.” She holds him with both hands. “Listen. If anyone ever hurts you, you call me. If anyone ever so much as threatens you, Rich - ”

 Richie, choked up, interjects, “I didn’t know the number, mom. I don’t know where the little paper you wrote it on is, I’m sorry—“

 “It’s okay.” She looks at him for a few more moments, then swaddles him up in a big, mama bear hug. “I love you, kid. I hope you know that.”

 “I love you too.”

 For a few minutes, she just holds him, stroking his back while silent tears fall down his face and onto the chest of her shirt. She doesn’t seem to mind

 It’s late. Richie doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he’s on top of the world.

 He ends up at Eddie’s house, even though he knows they’re not talking and Eddie’s mom might kill him on sight, he has to see him. Mrs. K can go fuck herself.

 Outside the boy’s bedroom window, he raps quietly with his knuckles, just about buzzing with a high, high feeling toward life. He can see Eddie lying in bed, struggling to prop up a book to read, lamplight cascading onto his skin - that is, until he hears Richie, and flies toward the window with a crazed look.

 “What are you doing here?” Eddie asks, brows knitting together. “My mom will kill you if she hears you.”

 That doesn’t matter so much to him at that moment. “Eddie!” He swings his legs over the banister and jumps into the room, adrenaline and something like love pushing him to lift Eddie to his chest and spin. “Eds, my mom came home early and she kicked that motherfucker out of my house!”

 Eddie’s eyes are crazed from the spinning and he clings to Richie’s shoulder with his good hand; and he grins, a giggle caught in his lips. “That’s great, Richie. Fuck that guy.”

 “Yeah, fuck him! And god Eddie, she - she protected me, and we just spent hours together, watching movies and making dinner like old times, and it was amazing, and - god, I know I sound like a dork, but I - ”

 He pauses, mostly because he’s out of breath from machine-gunning a paragraph out of nowhere; but also because in his flustered state he didn’t register the sweet-cheeked smile that Eddie is currently melting him with.

 But when he does, Richie thinks to himself: sure, blue eyes are great; they can be compared to the sky or the ocean or whatever other cheesy nature bit all goddamn day. But Eddie’s eyes - hell, he doesn’t care if he sounds like a cornball - they’re fucking amazing. They usurp all of that bullshit. He’s used to them when they’re blown wide in surprise, or holding him in a steely glare for some dumb joke, and he loves them then; but right now he catches a kind of tenderness hidden in the dark. Something that envelops him in warmth and pinks his cheeks.

 Eddie takes the opportunity to pipe up. “Richie,” he says, “I’m really happy for you.”

 He means it. Richie knows he means it, because for the last several days, he’s heard Eddie mumbling to himself somewhat privately about ‘that piece of shit,’ and right now he’s clutching Richie’s sleeve and smiling without a trace of mockery.

 And he’s perfect.

 His tousled hair that’s rustled from what looks to have been a constant stream of fingers, stressed over the book or his mom or god-knows-what; the oversized t-shirt he’s drowning in and short shorts and perfectly matched socks; and those shining eyes and friendly smile and soft fucking hands that hold all the electricity of Richie’s excitement - all perfect.

 And Richie, Richie could just kiss him.

 He doesn’t.

 Mrs. K knocks at the door.

 “Eddie bear, it’s time for your nighttime oils!”

 Richie cracks a wise-ass smile. “Eddie bear, if I’d known you needed      nighttime oils, well, I would have come prepared.”

 “Get the fuck out,” Eddie says. The laughter catching on his lips tells another story.

 Richie throws an utterly charming wink in his direction and crouches in the window, preparing to jump out and make his escape.

 “Wait!” Eddie grabs the back of Richie’s t-shirt. “It’s cool that you stopped by. It’s - it’s been lonely in this hellhole. I might have gone insane if I thought you guys forgot about me.”

 “Aw, I’d never forget you, cutie.” Richie, stomach twisting and turning, supports himself with his forearm on the outside of the window. “And, anyway, I gotta practice my Romeo somewhere, right?”

 Eddie lets out a characteristic huff. “Whatever.”

 It’s quiet, save for the distant tweeting crickets, and the scent wafting through the nighttime is intoxicating, and for the following moments the world reminds them to just breathe.

 “You’re gonna miss curfew, Rich,” Eddie mumbles, leaning out the window on his elbows. And Richie hears it: you’re alone, you know what could happen. Stay safe.

 “I’m not afraid, Eds.” He means it. Richie can’t draw up what fear even feels like right then. With a flick of an eyebrow, he nods toward the door. “Mother is waiting.”

 “I know.” He smiles. “I’ll see you, Tozier.”

 Richie, without any reservations (until he thinks back on it later), reaches out as though to pinch Eddie’s cheek, but instead, runs his thumb along Eddie’s cheekbone. “See ya, Eds.” He smiles. “I’m gonna get you out of here someday.”

 Eddie shakes his head as Richie takes his hand away from Eddie’s newly red cheeks and makes his way back to the ground, muttering, “My hero.”

 And Richie looks back with a grin at the silhouette of the dork in the window, saluting before taking off

 It sucks when Beverly leaves.

 It’s an early morning, red and orange hues breaking across the skyline like a cracked egg, and Richie, Stan, and Ben all gather around to watch her disappear off to the nearest airport, and then disappear from them forever. Though it’s not nearly as mopey and depressing as it could have been, it’s hard to watch her go; a warm energy follows her as she hugs them all goodbye, looking at them with her all-knowing, crooked little smile, rolling her eyes but expressing more love than any of them had ever known, and Richie knows she means every word of loving and missing that she says. And he knows he’ll miss her more than anything.

 He does. Not much helps with the pain of missing someone, but as the days go by, pieces of her slowly slip from his mind, until finally she’s all gone

 New Years offers promises of ‘new me’s and resolutions and maybe some kind of peace. And considering everything, it’s the saving grace Richie thinks he needs.

 A chance to forget his uncle, the murderous clown that haunts his dreams, and his personal revelation that he loves Eddie Kaspbrak.

 It didn’t ruin their friendship by any means, just made his cheeks flush and heart throb and his rebuttals come back stutter-y when Eddie merely smiled at him. It was stupid textbook puppy love. He never thought he’d fall for that.

 And, he’s not gay. He can’t be, or he’ll have to pay the price.

 It's just that Eddie is his best friend. They’re all best friends, but Eddie never really stopped engaging with his exhausting jokes like the others, when it was finally too much. Eddie always bickered back, he took the bait and bit back. Eddie took him home when he got hurt and cared for him and then went right back to fighting.

 He loves Eddie the way he should love someone like Bev.

 But it’s nothing.

 The night is cutting, crisp with a fresh wintery bitterness, biting at Richie’s nose until it’s practically bleeding. To be fair, he’d opted to only wear one of his lighter jackets and some gloves, so it’s his own fault that his scalp is freezing over and he’s shaking on his way to the loser’s little spot in the meadow.

 At least his friends are smart.

 Stan sports a matching tartan hat and scarf, bundled up around his face so only the pinkish tip of his nose is poking out; Bill has a nice puffy coat and a hat with a bauble rested atop his head; Ben’s ushanka hat is wrapped tightly under his chin, and he waves at Richie with mittens keeping his hands warm; Mike is representing a lot of fleece, and he grins at Richie, shaking his head when he sees his lack of winter clothes; and then there’s Eddie, wearing a coat that has to be at least an extra large, and a knitted cap, bundled up so only his fussy eyes and nose are squinting out at Richie.

 In Richie’s defense, he was running late, and he had sprouted a little bit in the last few months, so his previously comfortable winter coat was now tight and painful in the shoulders and chest. This jacket was his best option in the 30-second long window he had to get dressed and run out the door to attempt to be on time.

 Stan levels a look at him, thoroughly appreciating his idiocy, and obviously not pitying his shaking form more than a quick flash of sympathy in his eyes; he cares, but Richie obviously brought this upon himself. The ensuing cold would be his own fault, and he’d call Stan to complain, just to grin quietly as the boy went on the calmest rant about how stupid he is and then hang up. It’s just how they worked.

 Richie wonders if he’d tell a potential partner that they should have brought a coat to a date if they complained of the temperature. It’s beside the point, but amusing.

 “C’mon man, you didn’t think about a scarf at least?” Mike says as a greeting, laughing a little bit as he removes his own and wraps it messily around Richie’s neck. In that moment, Richie would give up his life for this kid. The body heat/fleece combo immediately brings him back from the brink of a nosebleed.

 “Richie doesn’t think, period.” Stan sticks his hands in his pockets and stares at him, ghosts of amusement playing on his cheeks.

 Richie flashes his teeth in a big ol’ grin. “That’s pretty accurate, actually, I just wanted to be with you guys on time so badly, you know.”

 Bill lets out a small, unenthused, “Aww.”

 Richie simply chuckles and tries to wrap his fingers in Mike’s scarf to help with the inevitable hypothermia. Eddie winds up next to him in their gathering, sucking in a big breath through his nostrils and huffing out shortly.

 He bumps Eddie’s arm with his elbow and says, “What’s up with you, Eds?”

 Eddie nearly topples over from the size of the coat weighing him down, and he curses under his breath before standing back up and glaring at Richie. “You really didn’t wear a bigger coat, dumbass?”

 “As you can see, no,” Richie chuckles.

 Eddie presses his tongue into his cheek. “Well, you can share mine. It’s more than big enough.”

 Oh.

 Right, sharing a coat. That’s fine. No pressure or anything.

 Richie aims for a cool response, some funny voice or smooth and subtle, and lands on, “Yeah, cool. Thanks.”

 So, they share. And it’s pretty great.

 Eddie unzips it and pulls Richie in, and they collaborate to pull it up and then Richie is pressed up against Eddie’s side, in public, already sweating even though he’s still cold because he doesn’t know if he can handle this.

 Fortunately, they’re hidden by the dark, so maybe the boy or their friends won’t notice his red cheeks (or they’ll chalk it up to the cold) and the extra focus he has to place on acting normal. Because Eddie smells nicer than most boys their age, and he’s got a heart too big for his body, and Richie’s sure that Eddie loves him back in at least some way. It’s not just anyone that would get to be this close, squeezed into a coat with him.

 Richie feels sick.

 But the fireworks are starting, and they might be sparse and lackluster in the hell that is Derry, but each loser looks to the sky with love, with appreciation, in awe of the fact that something beautiful can apparently come from hell.

 Barely, just barely, Eddie’s head falls against Richie’s shoulder as they gaze up into the inky black sky illuminated by cakes of fireworks, and he whispers, “Wow,” under his breath right next to Richie’s ear, and now Richie’s contemplating between the two possible causes of his death: he combusts, or he stops breathing - to be determined.

 Richie begs the universe for advice in the ultimate predicament. And to his great relief, memories seep back into his brain; those of freckled cheeks, teeth balancing a cig as a mouth talks, and bundles of ginger curls bouncing as her head turns in his direction.

 “Bev would love this.”

 Riche catches the way Ben looks over at him pretty much immediately - at them, sharing body heat in Eddie’s coat - and then how the boy stares at the ground and mumbles a soft, “Yeah.” He looks back at Richie, holds his eye contact for a sweet, lingering moment, then gazes back at the sky, hopefully thinking of love as much as Richie is.

 Bill, Mike, and Stan all follow, tearing their eyes away briefly to make quick eye contact with each other, and then Richie, and Eddie even shifts to look up at him, and they all smile wistfully as though the girl is there with them, snarky remarks and toothy smiles keeping them all afloat. Richie feels like he’s going to break open and cry enough to fill the whole universe, so he sniffles and looks back up at the sky, breaking the moment of magic.

 But it remains with them.

 It remains as they share this together, as they enter the new year together, promising hope for a happier future as long as they stick with each other.

 And it remains as Eddie Kaspbrak takes his hand under the coat and murmurs, “Happy new year, Richie.”