#i really like his bushy eyebrows and expressive face

[risotto38]

doodled my fav scientist/researcher instead of writing one of my 4 essays due in a couple days

[kyletogaz]

Fuck Ass Tattoos (Say Something Nice) pairing: john price x fat fem!reader summary: john comes home with a surprise after a long deployment. cw: price & reader are married, smut, wifey makes john wear a shirt during sex, spanking mention

“tattoos?”

the dishes you’ve been washing are forgotten, as soon as your husband steps into the kitchen with his arms exposed. what the fuck?

“good evening, love,” john croons while stepping into your space.

you don’t even bother stopping the whimper that leaves your throat when you realize he’s gotten beefier while he was away.

john wastes no time pulling you into a kiss and shoving his tongue in your mouth, while his big warm hands caress every inch of your plush body. he whispers the words i’ve missed you so fuckin’ much, dove in between kisses that makes you dizzy. you have half a mind to demand that he bend you over already, but you don’t. you let out a soft noise when his hands glue themselves to your ass, moaning when you feel your pussy lips being spread while he does his best to grab two handfuls of your asscheeks.

when john finally stops mauling you, you drag your gaze from his, then down to the black ink covering both of his arms, effectively pulling you out of your lust-filled haze. you try to find the right words, but come up empty, hoping he’ll forgive you for blurting out, “fuck ass tattoos.”

“i beg your pardon?”

you slap a hand over your mouth when you realize what you’ve said out loud. fuck.

john stares at you in surprise, his bushy eyebrows high on his forehead. he couldn’t believe his dear wife was insulting his tattoos right to his face. no hello. no good evening, john, i’ve missed you while you were away, nothing. the nerve.

your lips tremble a little, but not because you’re going to cry. you’re trying to keep from laughing at the scowl on his face. “i’m so sorry, honey,” you apologize softly. “the tattoos— they just caught me off guard is all.” you look at him in concern as you speak your next words. “you’re not having a crisis are you?”

you swear you see john’s eye twitch at your question.

“a crisis!?” he barks, making you look away in amusement.

when you look at him again, you try to school your features into a neutral expression, but you’re failing. “well if you’re not having a crisis, then was your tattoo artist having one? because—”

“if you know what’s good for you, dove, you won’t utter another word,” your husband hisses at you.

your brow raises at his tone. you should have known not to poke the bear. but you don’t really care. what on earth would possess him to get inked up without mentioning that he was considering it?

“was it peer pressure?” you managed to choke out, while trying not to cackle at john’s sputtering. as quickly as it came, your amusement disappears when you notice the familiar glint in his eyes.

you move before john does, shrieking when he manages to snag the back of your shirt. you put up a fight, but that’s a losing battle. john is so fucking big, he can toss your ass around like a rag-doll if he wants to. you whine and protest when he pinches your nipple and tells you to behave or else.

“or else what?”

maybe you should have kept your mouth shut.

“my ass hurts,” you complain, while you lie in bed with your ass in the air and a pout on your pretty face.

john had given you a spanking, while he muttered something about it being punishment for bullying him about his tattoos. as if a spanking would stop you from asking him if he’d let the boys take turns drawing on his skin with a sharpie. the only purpose your punishment served, was to make your pussy even wetter.

john ignores your whining as he soothes your stinging cheeks with his tongue. you let out a broken moan when he sucks on one of your pussy lips into his mouth, the sensation almost knocking you off your knees.

“john, please.”

“please what?” he rasps while slowly fisting his leaking cock.

“please fuck me,” you beg, not caring if you sound desperate. “want your cock…want you to fill me up.”

john hums in amusement at your begging, before maneuvering you onto your back and knocking your sticky thighs apart. he admires your glistening pussy for a moment, his fingers caressing your mound. and fuck, he thinks he loves your fat pussy more than life itself. he wraps a hand around his length as he slowly feeds his cock into your slick hole, a husky laugh tumbling out of his mouth when he’s finally balls deep and has you gasping.

you feel full with john’s fat cock stuffed in your pussy.

“alright there, love?”

a bubble of laughter spills from your lips before you can stop it, making john pause. he wants to know what the hell is so funny. but then his eyes follow your line of sight and he almost snarls at the way you’re squinting at the ink on his left arm, as if you’re trying to make sense of what you’re looking at.

“i— they’re just so—” john gives you a look, almost daring you to say something out of pocket. “unique,” you finish dryly, before trying to dislodge yourself from john’s cock.

“wait, where the hell do you think you’re goin’?” he snaps while reaching out with his wide palms and grabbing you by your hips to prevent you from leaving.

when you finally manage to wiggle out of his hold and climb out of bed, you head straight to john’s closet to grab the first long-sleeved shirt you can find. you study the article of clothing for a moment, noting that it’s one of john’s dri-fit shirts he usually wore whenever he went for his morning runs.

you turn back to your husband with a look he can’t decipher. “put it on.”

he stares at you in disbelief. “come again, love?” you cannot be serious right now.

“no shirt, no pussy,” you say with a shrug, eyes glittering with amusement.

john scoffs, but he can tell by the look in your eyes that you’re not fucking around. he tries to negotiate with you, of course, but you’re not having it. you tell him to put the shirt on or he’ll be using his hand tonight.

“you’re in a fuckin’ mood tonight,” john mutters, before grabbing the shirt that’s dangling from your fingers. he’s having a hard time believing that he’s actually going to put it on.

when he’s done fooling around with his stupid shirt, he drags you back into bed and splits you open on his cock. he’s mean about it too, bullying his cock into your tight aching pussy and laughing when you start wailing. he’s still sore from the fact that you’re making him wear a shirt while he fucks you six ways to sunday.

john’s annoyance wanes with every gasp and moan that comes out of your mouth though. he almost cums right then and there when your pussy clenches around his length when he tells you that he loves you.

“my beautiful wife. fuck, i’ve missed you and this fat pussy,” he groans with a snap of his hips that has you yowling and clawing at his back.

“missed you too, bear,” you sob as tears cling to your lashes. “so much. you don’t know how lonely i’ve been. without your cock, your fingers, your mouth. without you.” you’ve spent the last few weeks missing john and fucking yourself raw. using toys, your fingers, humping john’s favorite pillow. you’ve lost count of how many orgasms you’ve had while john was away, and it still wasn’t enough. through it all, you wanted your man.

you sniffle a little, your vision blurring with tears when john coos at you.

“my sweet girl,” he murmurs as his thick fingers seek out your puffy clit. “pussy’s been neglected for too long. i’ll fix it, i promise.”

you let out a soft cry when john finds his prize. the fingers he’s used to kill, the ones that are always covered in blood, are toying with your clit and pulling sweet moans from your throat. this is what you’ve missed, john turning you into a complete mess. he’s fucking the thoughts right out of that pretty little head of yours, his body pressing you into the mattress while his cock pistons in and out of your drooling pussy relentlessly.

“christ, dove. you’re really out of it, huh?”

blue eyes peer down at you, but you can’t form a coherent response. john’s words are barely registering in your brain.

“i—john!”

john knows exactly what you need. “c’mon, dove,” he coos as he continues stroking your clit in sync with his thrusts, groaning at the way your pussy starts to flutter around his cock. “be a good wife and cum f’me.”

you arch up into john’s chest, almost howling when your orgasm takes you by surprise, making you see stars. and john, he’s just licking your tears and grinding his cock into your spent pussy while you shake underneath him.

“squeeze me with that pretty cunt of yours, baby,” john murmurs in your ear, once he’s done ridding your face of tears with his tongue.

“i can’t,” you protest, your whole body feeling boneless. “i can barely move a limb. i think you’ve killed me, bear.”

john chuckles and tells you not to be so dramatic, before he throws one of your legs over his shoulder and rocks into your pussy. “gonna fill you up,” he promises, sounding a little breathless.

john always keeps his promises. he fucks you straight into another electrifying orgasm, his own cock pulsing in your pussy as he fills you to the brim with thick ropes of cum that never seems to stop. when you both come down from your highs and john is curled around you, you tell him to get rid of the shirt.

“don’t want you to pass out,” you mumble sleepily, your eyelids already drooping. “love you, bear. with those stupid tattoos.”

“you really hate my tattoos, dove?” john asks you a week later, while he’s sitting across from you at the table enjoying his breakfast.

“i can learn to love them.”

john scowls. “yes or no, wife.”

you let out a groan and place your fork on your plate. it was obvious to you that he wasn’t going to leave it alone. “fuck’s sake, jonathan,” you huff with a soft laugh. “i don’t hate them.”

“well say somethin’ nice about ‘em, darling.”

john watches you in amusement as you struggle to come up with a proper response, laughing outright when you painfully tell him that his tattoos aren’t that ugly.

“atta girl. wasn’t so hard, now was it?” he asks with a teasing grin.

“please, i thought i was going to die,” you tell him while you clutch your chest dramatically, before dissolving into a fit of laughter.

a/n: john’s nickname is bear now

masterlist

[vintagetvstars]

David McCallum Vs. Dean Stockwell

Propaganda

David McCallum - (The Man From U.N.C.L.E, Colditz, The Outer Limits) - He became one of the hottest leading men of 1960s tv with The Man from U.N.C.L.E., and McCallum received more fan mail than any other actor in Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer's history, including such popular MGM movie stars as Clark Gable and Elvis Presley. He turned his Russian character from side-kick to co-star in one season during the height of the cold war. Artists wrote hit camp songs about his character like "Love Ya, Illya"

Dean Stockwell - (Quantum Leap, Dr. Kildare) - "Dean may be more well known for his roles in film, he is equally a titan of the small screen just as much as the big (despite his short king status)! ... Frankly, I think we all should recognize not only as a great actor, but as a really endearing and handsome fellow. He has the face, he has the style, he has the substance. Rise UP Dean Stockwell nation!!!" Full text propaganda included below the cut

- No Negative Propaganda Please -

Master Poll List | How to submit propaganda | What is vintage? (FAQ)

Additional propaganda below the cut

David McCallum:

Everyone knows him as Ducky from NCIS or Ashley Pitt from The Great Escape, but David McCallum was also the original Man From UNCLE, for which role he recieved record setting amounts of fan mail. Was considered to play the Doctor. Charles Bronson stole his first wife, but his second marriage lasted over 55 years, until his death, so who's the winner here.

He became an expert on forensics during his time with JAG/NCIS and attended multiple medical examiner conventions for research.

A classically trained musician, he created several instrumental albums in the 60's his biggest hit is a cover of The Edge which has appeared in movies and video games and sampled by rap artists.

Dean Stockwell:

Dean may be more well known for his roles in film, he is equally a titan of the small screen just as much as the big (despite his short king status)! Dean in his younger days was such a charmer that Dennis Hopper, upon seeing him, compared him to the late James Dean. He reflected that in his early television roles as well, often playing tortured, angst-ridden rebels. His fluffy hair, bushy eyebrows, and big brown eyes gave him an expressive and attractive charisma that nobody could turn from. Speaking of charisma, his biggest role is of course, Al Calavicci from Quantum Leap. If you watch a single episode of this show you are going to come away with an adoration for him. His cunt-slaying fashion and wise-cracking wisdom is all played excellently by him! It really is no wonder that Quantum Leap fans fell so far in love with him that, upon learning he didn't have a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, they campaigned HEAVILY to get him one (which was successful!). Frankly, I think we all should recognize not only as a great actor, but as a really endearing and handsome fellow. He has the face, he has the style, he has the substance. Rise UP Dean Stockwell nation!!!

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request headcanons of Heracles, Buddha, and Hades seeing their s/o in a playboy bunny costume?

“[Y/N]! We’re going to be late for the party!” Heracles called through their small home. Even with only half his vocal force, the room booming with the sound of it.

They had been invited to a small gathering of some of the demi-gods and former soldiers for Apokries. The festival season was always one of his favorite of the year. The comradery. The laughter. And of course, the food and drinking.

There were also the elaborate costumes some of the participants wore. It was not a requirement, but encouraged. Dressing up was also something Heracles enjoying. Stepping out of one’s self for a bit to be another. Although this lion’s head was getting rather itchy.

“Ok! I’m ready!”

[Y/N] came out from around the corner. Bright smiled and literally bushy tailed. “Do you like it? Loki mentioned this was a modern bunny costume on Earth these days. He said it would be a wonderful fit for our Lion and the Rabbit costume.”

Heracles just stood there. Staring at [Y/N] as they explained their costume and then process. Then all of a sudden he announced, “how wonderful! It’s so unique!”

The demi-god came over and scooped [Y/N] up in his arms. “How thoughtful of Loki to be so helpful. Maybe he’s finally coming around. But we should head off to the party before we’re late, and show everyone your beautiful costume.”

“Ok!”

They go to the party and receive a lot of stares. Heracles knew that his lion’s head was authentic, but he didn’t think it would get that much attention from strangers.

“Oi! Babe! Let’s go! If we wait any longer we’re going to be late.”

Not that that would be the end of the world. Buddha didn’t really want to go to the party anyway. He’d rather just stay home with [Y/N]. Besides, costume parties seemed lame.

“Alright, alright! I’m coming, I’m coming!”

Buddha turned his head when they came into the room and looked like he had seen a ghost. “What are you wearing??”

“It’s my costume.” They reply nonchalantly. Giving him a little twirl. “Don’t you like it?”

“Oh yeah. I like it.” It was a good thing he usually wore loose fitting pants. “But you can’t wear that.”

“Can’t?” [Y/N] repeated with their hands on their hips.

“You know what I mean. Not ‘can’t can’t’, you just can’t.”

“I thought you were all about ‘free will’ and ‘expression of one’s true self’.” Buddha growled.

“Yeah. But not if people are going to ogle my partner!”

[Y/N] huffed. “That’s their business. We are not in control of how others examine the world, only ourselves.” He was really regretting writing all this stuff down. “I’m going to the party. You can either choose to come with me or stay here. It’s up to you.”

Buddha thought about it for a moment. Would it be better to see those goons ogling them in person, or just imagine it all night?

In the end, he decided to go. It was very hard to keep to the ‘do not harm’ mandate for the evening.

“Dearest, we will need to get going or we will be late.” Hades called from their bedroom. Adjusting his regalia.

Apokries was an auspicious time for the gods. Many festivals. Many offerings. And, of course, many parties for them to attend.

The higher gods had their own party that they normally attended. Mostly his family. A few ‘outsiders’ welcomed into the fold, but typically just them. Hades liked spending time with his family but did appreciate that the party planning could be tedious.

“Ok, I’m ready my love.” [Y/N] came out of their closet in their selected ensemble for the evening. Hades one visible eyebrow arching considerably.

“It’s a lovely outfit, my darling, but you do know that this is a formal affair. Yes?”

“I’m wearing a bowtie.”

Hades sighed and covered his face. Partly due to annoyance. Partly to hide the grin on his face at their retort. “Please change. I wouldn’t ask normally, however I would rather you not be around my lech of a brother and Aphrodite in that.” The two of them would have a field day, and he doesn’t want to see what hells Hera would unleash on them if Zeus, inevitably, couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

[Y/N] huffed and went to change.

They would be late now, but that was his prerogative as the older brother. However, Hades would have to keep that outfit in mind for later. When they were alone. It really was a lovely little outfit.

[hp-hcs]

Please more Tom riddle x ftm Reader 😩

vine? what’s that, like, herbology? (chapter four of phoenix tears) — 40s! tom riddle x ftm! dumbass! granger! reader

uh okay so i accidentally gave tom religious trauma so that’s a thing in here

imagine being cool and requesting lmfao couldnt be yall

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“What in the Goddamn Hell did you do?!”

You fall off of your bed with a shriek when a pillow hits you straight in the face with a whap!

You hit the floor with a solid thunk, picking up your nearest weapon—a single converse sneaker—and chucking it at Harry, who’s practically dying laughing on his bed.

Tom looks alarmed, partially at your fall, partially at the abhorrent language. Glancing down at where you’re sprawled on the floor—when you’d been sitting on your bed beside him just moments ago—Tom shifts his gaze to an overdramatic, whining Harry, clutching his shin and pouting like a petulant child, then finally, settling his gaze on a furious, fuming, irate Gryffindor girl with bushy hair.

“You Goddamn fucking dumbass-” the mystery girl arms herself with more pillows, chucking them at you with a surprising amount of force. When Harry laughs again, at your expense, he receives a pillow to the face as well.

She stands in the center of the boys’ dorm, her hands clenched into fists and her eyebrows furrowed so deeply, Tom wonders for a second if she’ll start steaming at the ears like the characters in newspaper comics do. Who is this girl, who so freely speaks the Lord’s name, as if she isn’t afraid of being beaten?

Hovering in the doorway to the boys’ dorm is an apprehensive redhead, who flounders for what to do for a moment before slowly joining the angry girl at her side like a demure, kicked stray. Tom tilts his head as he examines the two newcomers. The redhead… yes… yes, this must be one of the little Weasley girl’s older brothers. Which one, he’d never be able to guess.

The angry girl was currently cursing out Harry, Y/N, Tom, and God, which, Tom found rather egregious; but it was also a bit exciting, seeing someone do something so taboo.

“And you,” Angry Girl whirled around, her index finger pointing straight at Tom.

(Tom was a year older than Angry Girl. He had to be at least a foot and half taller than her. He came from a time of Nazis and economic depressions, for Christ’s sakes. Regardless, Angry Girl absolutely terrified Tom out of his wits.)

“You, you insufferable, good-for-nothing reprobate! You motherfucking scuzzy lowlife snake!”

Tom scrambled backwards on your bed as Angry Girl took a few purposeful steps forward, her finger in his face.

Honestly, her language was appalling. Who was this girl? A street urchin? Certainly not well-mannered, that was for sure.

“You utter pig! Don’t look at me like that! Oh no, I’m speaking right now. Be quiet!”

Tom was at a loss for words. He just stared, wide eyed, mouth agape as this unknown girl cursed him out and damned him to the deepest parts of Hell.

“‘Mione, lay off the poor guy. I think he gets it,” you said dryly, apparently in no concern to rush to Tom’s aid, if the game of… poker? you were currently playing on the floor with Harry and the Weasley boy was anything to go by.

Angry Girl, ‘Mione, as you had called her, stopped talking, but she still looked furious. She whirled around, a single angry look making the Weasley boy and Potter scramble to shove the cards back into their box. You seemed unbothered though, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a bored expression.

How the Hell were you not terrified of this girl?

“Oh, no,” ‘‘Mione’ said with a humorless chuckle. “You don’t get to say anything either. I leave you alone for an hour- You told me you were helping Harry clean out his trunk!”

“Well I was!” You defended. “It just so happened that good ol’ Tommy-boy’s diary was in Harry’s trunk. So really, you should be, like, yelling at him, for being so irresponsible as to still have it.”

“Oh, I’ll get to him shortly,” she snapped. “But you, dear brother-”

(Brother? Tom wondered. He could only vaguely see the resemblance, but when you ran your fingers through your short hair and it started to puff up, it finally clicked. Twins.)

“-you resurrected the guy who tried to fucking kill a bunch of eleven and twelve year olds! The same guy who tried to kill Harry as an infant- Jesus fucking Christ, this is why you’re not in Ravenclaw you dumb fuck-”

Tom gaped at her profanity. Not only using the Lord’s entire name, but giving Him a middle name that was a curse? The blaspheme this girl spoke was extraordinary.

‘‘Mione’ ran her hand down her face in exasperation. “There is a collective total of three brain cells in this room…”

“And all of them are yours?” You muttered sardonically.

“…and all of them ar- hey, that’s my line.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and let out a loud exhale, closing her eyes. “Okay. Okay. Oka-”

“If you say ‘okay’ one more time, I’m punching you.”

Mother Mary, this boy was awfully violent. Nearly as bad as his sister.

“Right. Start from the beginning, please,” her tone made it obvious that it was not a request, but a demand. “Oh- Ronald, really. What are you two doing?”

The Weasley boy, Ronald, looked up—as did Harry—at her scathing tone. They were both still sat on the floor, but now had a garishly bright magazine between them and appeared to be solving a crossword together.

“Two bros, chillin’ on the floor, five feet apart ‘cause they’re not gay,” you chimed in, with an odd sing-song voice that Tom was baffled by.

“Shut the fuck up, Y/N,” Harry mumbled under his breath, his quill scratching on the magazine’s page and the ink turning green as he scribbled in the correct answer to number ten across.

‘‘Mione’ sat down on the floor next to Ronald, sighing heavily. She snapped her fingers at Tom, pointing at him, then making a sharp motion down towards the floor. “Sit down here, Thomas. You’re not sitting at a higher level than anyone else.”

Tom wordlessly slipped down onto the floor, sitting cross-legged with wide eyes as he scooted as far away from her as possible, which, coincidentally, was right next to you.

‘‘Mione’ seemed caught off guard when she saw Tom’s loaned clothes: green flannel pajama pants, a thick knit sweater with an ‘F’ on it, and fuzzy blue socks with penguins on them.

He was not intimidating in the slightest.

It’s kind of hard to be intimidating fifty years in the future, especially when future you is way scarier that current you.

But Tom digressed.

~~~

“DON’T FUCK WITH ME! I HAVE THE POWER OF GOD AND ANIME ON MY SIDE!”

“We are not quoting Vines when we break into Malfoy Manor, Y/N,” Hermione, as her full name turned out to be, let out a long-suffering sigh.

You pout, your lower lip sticking out.

Tom nearly chokes on his tea when he sees this, his cheeks flaming red as he hurriedly wills away any depraved thoughts.

Don’t look don’t look don’t look don’t look oh dear God don’t loo- don’t take the Lord’s name in vain either Thomas! Oh no oh no no no-

He can almost hear his old headmistress at Wool’s chastising him after boxing his ears.

“You’re a child of God, Thomas Marvolo! Do not speak His name in vain!”

But you know what? Jesus fucking Christ, he hated his Goddamn name.

Tom let himself look up from his tea mug at you, let his gaze fall from your mirthful eyes to your pouting lips.

Oh.

Goddamnit, I’m fucked.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

chapter five

[pencildragons]

snippet from my upcoming foxquin fic sinner, sinner (come to dinner) for foxquinweek !!!!!

“Commander Fox,” says the Chancellor, smiling his kindly smile. Fox stands very still and stares straight ahead, past Palpatine and through the great transparisteel window at the city below, skyline exploding in the brilliance of the sun’s final dying rays. The fanciful part of him that will one day be responsible for his death imagines that, if he’s just still enough, Palpatine will forget him entirely. It’s ridiculous, he knows, he knows, of course he knows, but he clings to it anyway, endeavours to move as little as possible, turns trying to hide even the slight rise and fall of his chest into some sort of test of how good his impression of being a block of stone is. “Sir,” says Fox. “Commander Fox,” Palpatine says again, still smiling that awful fucking smile, but sadder, now, mournful, bushy eyebrows doing something terrible and expressive. “You have disappointed me.” “Yes, sir.” “I gave you a very simple directive, Commander, and still you failed.” Fox is barely breathing now. Only a few klicks away, the spire of the Jedi Temple burns in a halo of pink-red, spearing through the cloud-strewn sky. It looks like one of the paintings hung in the Senate rotunda corridors, the ones that like as not cost more to procure than he did. His throat is dry. He tries to swallow. It sticks. It is likely he is dehydrated. There is a little light flashing on top of the spire, warning away in-atmo transports and low-flying starships. Orange-blue-green. Orange-blue-green. He stares at it, so he doesn’t have to look at Palpatine. “Yes, sir.” “Such inadequacy is, of course, unacceptable, Commander, as I’m sure you’re aware. I really had hoped it would not come to this, you understand.” Liar, Fox thinks. You love this. “But there is only one way to learn, and that is through experiencing consequences of your actions. Perhaps next time you will not take your sworn duty so lightly, hmm?” “Yes, sir.” “Draw your blaster, please, Commander.” Fox blinks and, in his surprise, breaks his stillness to turn his head to face Palpatine properly. “…Sir?” “Must I repeat myself twice? Draw your blaster from your holster.” Slowly, Fox draws. He wonders if this is some sort of test, if he’s going to be punished further for making his weapon naked in front of the Supreme Chancellor of the entire fucking Republic. (In the light of the dusk spilling through the window into the opulent office, Palpatine’s eyes seem almost gold. It is for but a brief moment, just the rays of the fat sun catching oddly, and then they return to that sharp, ice-chip grey like nothing at all happened.) “Good,” says Palpatine, and smiles again. Like this, he looks like some natborn’s father’s father—grandfather, he believes the term is—all benevolent wrinkles and knowing looks. “Set it to kill.” Fox sets it to kill. It is not a difficult thing. He is just as much a weapon as the blaster in his hands, well-oiled, clean, smooth. Efficient. He was designed for this. It is easier to follow orders mindlessly; his brain, like all their brains (except, perhaps, Kote’s, but Kote’s a little fucked up and is an outlier for everything else, anyway), is primed for command, made to obey. A perfect, thoughtless gun, with just enough ruthlessness and self-determination to set them apart from the CIS’ droids. That’s the idea, anyway. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time the Kaminoans failed in the execution of something. “Turn around, Commander,” Palpatine murmurs, words soft and smooth and rich as the heavy velvet-fabric from his home planet that he has all his clothes cut from. “And fire at will.”

rbs deeply appreciated :]

[gavisuntiedboot]

Off Limits

Ok so there was a rlly cute ask in my inbox that was about introducing Gavi to Ramadan or taking him to iftar but it's gone now!!! I literally cannot see it anymore. But dear anon who requested a Ramadan-inspired Gavi fic, this is for you!!! So reader is Arab/ Desi/ North African/ a similar culture.

~~~

"Pablo, as God is my witness, I will break up with you if you don't get away from me."

Was it harsh? A little. But it was the only way you could get your clingy partner to leave you alone. For the past hour, he continuously tried to hold your hands or cuddle you, and you had to push him away in a panic every time. Ramadan was finally upon you, and you could not be more excited. It was a month of great food and company, and jut general peace. It was a time for you to really embrace your culture: long dresses and dangly jewelry, coffee cups painted in gold calligraphy, and lanterns decorating every possible surface.

There were several traditions in your family that took place every Ramadan, a main one being that you and your female relatives would all go and get henna done on your arms and legs, your skin remaining tinted with elaborate patterns all month long. However, since moving to Barcelona (and moving in with your long-term boyfriend), this tradition has become harder and harder for you to maintain. This led to an Amazon overtight order of about 20 henna cones, and two hours of you bent over yourself trying to pipe out the tiniest of designs onto your hands and feet. It was unfortunately during this time that Gavi came home from training, plopping onto your couch as he tried to grab your hand, smudging one of the flowers you had gone cross-eyed drawing. After letting out a yell that probably scared the dogs in Madrid, you calmed enough to explain what you were doing and why he couldn't touch it.

"So it's like a tattoo? I don't really like tattoos ya know." He said, rolling over onto his side and pouting, touch starved and desperate to touch you. You continued drawing as you responded.

"Yeah but they're temporary. And they're brown instead of black. And tattoos are hot. You would look hot with tattoos Pablo."

This elicited a laugh from the boy, his eyes creasing and his teeth dazzling. He loved watching you focused on your sketches. Your teeth was between your lips, tension evident in your features. There was nothing that you did that wasn't entertaining to him. Gavi loved looking at you, studying you, catching every minor change in your expressions or body language and storing them deep in his memory.

Eyebrows scrunched in concentration, he tried to imagine what he would look like with a tattoo.

"Maybe Spanish men aren't meant to have tattoos, amor. We just don't look good in them."

"Pablo how can you say this when Ramos literally exists?"

"Your answer to everything cannot be 'It's hot because Sergio Ramos does it'!"

"Why not? Long hair? Hot on Ramos. Tattoos? Hot on Ramos. Being a father-"

"Please stop. I am begging."

You broke out into fits of giggles, the banter flowing naturally between the two of you. When you finally finished your hands, you beckoned Gavi over. Instructing him to place his arm in your lap, you began drawing on his tanned skin.

"Ay, what are you doing?"

"Proving you would look good with a tattoo. Sit still!! You're gonna make me mess up."

"But-"

"No buts. I had to redo half my hand because of you. And besides, you're always in long shirts, no one will see."

This silenced the whines from the boy looming over you as you bent closer to his arm. Despite a flinch every so often from the cool sensation on his skin, Pablo stayed perfectly still. He brought his free hand up to move the hair from your eyes, giving him a better view of your face.

"There. All done."

A loud laugh resonated throughout the room. On Gavi's forearm sat a small angry face with bushy eyebrows.

"Is that supposed to be me?"

"Yeah. I think it's pretty accurate."

Trying to pull you in, he reached for your arm and you pulled away in a hurry.

"Pablo my hands are still wet!! No touching!"

"Are your feet still wet, too?" You nodded, afraid of why he wanted this piece of information. He moved closer to you on the couch, clean arm wrapping around you, his head resting on your shoulder.

"That means you can't run away from me." He smiled, and placed a gentle kiss to your forehead. Cheeks heating up, you snuggled into his chest, hiding your embarrassment at the affection. You two stayed like this for a while, just watching TV and enjoying the shared body heat. Once your hands had dried, you went to peel off the top layer, revealing the stained pattern beneath it. After some lotion, you returned to Gavi, peeling off his design as well, the two of you once again in fits of laughter at the angry face on his arm. You settled back into him, and he looked down at you.

"Can I hold your hand now? Or are you off-limits until the end of Ramadan?"

You interlocked your hand with his, rubbing your thumb in soothing circles. Bringing your entwined hands up to his face, he admired your hard work.

"It looks gorgeous, mi amor. You did so well." He kissed the back of your hand, straight over the delicate patterns.

"Want to see something cool?" You asked. "Look in the center there. See if you can read anything."

He brought your hands up once again, refusing to release you from his grip for even a second. He looked through the swirls, until the found a dainty "PG6" hidden in the design. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, pulling you into his chest, and nuzzling against your neck.

"I can't believe you're all mine."

A/N - I literally was writing this as my henna was drying and then I tried to open a Barbican with wet henna and I stopped for a minute and was like wow this is the most Arab experience I'll ever have. Anyways, short and sweet, hope y'all enjoy.

[heesdreamer]

it will be

PAIRING ➩ sunghoon x reader x jay

SUMMARY ➩ starting your life in college filled with your mothers paranoia and lack of social skills, you befriend three boys with a long twisted history. a history that somehow leads to the handsome boy with the cold stare.

GENRE ➩ slight mystery but mainly college slice of life strangers to enemies to friends to lovers (lol) with a love triangle

WARNINGS ➩ mentions of character death and suicide (not proofread)

WC ➩ 14.6k

Your mother had always made it clear to you what type of people to stay away from.

You’d hear countless stories and lectures, paranoia fueled nostalgia about girls who smacked their gum too loud and teachers who have bushy mustaches.

She spent most of your childhood passing on her warnings to you, preparing you for the trials and many characters life would throw in your path, and you held onto every word.

It almost became a game between the two of you, you’d lean over in public and tug on her sleeve, giving a subtle nod towards a stranger while out in public. She’d either give you a soft shrug, a smile and a nod, or she’d furrow her eyebrows and wag her fingers.

The latter was the expression you saw the most, and it was her way of telling you, that person was absolutely up to no good.

It’s times like this you wish your mother was here with you and that it wouldn’t be a total social disaster if she was. You considered for a second pulling your phone from your bag and giving her a call, asking her read on the people around you in a soft hushed whisper.

And there was lots of people around you. It was the first day of college orientation and you were standing in, what was apparently, a student hotspot. You’d wish you’d known this sooner so you could’ve mapped out your route better and avoided this mess of uniforms and loud voices.

You imagined the way you were raised saved you from a lot of awkward situations, possibly helping you to avoid ever being pranked or taken advantage of throughout high school.

But now that you were a freshly turned adult and starting your new independent free life, you started to think her paranoia had rubbed off on you completely. You were a mess and no amount of keeping your head held high and shoulders back was disguising it.

You don’t think you were standing still for that long, although maybe your figure stood clutching your single book was just too hard to avoid in the rushing foot traffic around you, but you realized you must’ve been dazed out when you felt a body slam into you from behind.

Propelling forward, your hands went out in front of you and collided roughly onto the cement. A hiss of pain shot it’s way out from between your clenched teeth and you shut your eyes tight in a silent prayer you hadn’t broken any skin.

“Oh my god, oh my god.” The voice coming from your right was pitchy and frantic, guilt and panic coating the words and you sighed softly, furrowing your brows at the sidewalk below you. When you finally took a glance up at your collider, you attempted to tame your expression to a neutral one.

You were slightly taken back to see, not one, but three people around you. All of their gazes held different levels of upset and you quickly pieced together the one with the red face and jittering hands was the one who had run into you.

“I’m so sorry.” The boy was frowning deeply and tugging on the sleeve of his knitted sweater, for a moment you wondered if he was going to cry. “I’m really so sorry, they always tell me I need to watch where I’m walking.”

You scanned your eyes to the two boys next to him and one gave you a soft shrug in approval to what he was saying.

The other was suddenly kneeling down beside you, reaching over to grab your book that had been abandoned in the grass for the length of your conversation. He looked at the cover for just a moment before smiling and nudging it in your direction.

Despite the short duration they’ve been in your line of sight, you could practically see your mother next to you, giving you a warm smile and a thumbs up as she pointed at the trio of boys.

That was all you needed to give you a jump, taking your book back and standing swiftly. You didn’t bother brushing the rocks from your knees or checking if they were bleeding, you needed to get out of here as soon as possible.

“Not a big deal.” You muttered, trying to keep it as genuine as you could muster. And it truly was not a big deal, the boy was sorry and obviously meant no harm. Yet the embarrassment of both falling and your terrible social skills was getting to you.

You heard a soft squeal like groan and your eyes widened, shooting back to the boy who had hit you.

“You’re bleeding.” He practically shrieked and now you were truly convinced he was going to start crying any moment now. “Let us make it up to you, do you like chocolate?”

“How about coffee?” The second boy, the one who had shrugged, was speaking now and your eyes floated in his direction before going back to the first who was now digging through his bag, presumably for chocolate.

You were fully furrowing your eyebrows now, not bothering to mask your expression of confusion. The boy who had picked up your book was smiling still, playful amusement now gracing his features.

He felt your gaze on him and met your eyes, startling you slightly, he furthered your confusion by raising an eyebrow at you and adjusting his glasses. For a split second you mistook his expression as flirtatious and you felt sleazed out before realizing it was simple adoration for his friends antics.

“I think,” You cleared your throat and thankfully the first boy halted in his backpack rummaging, still looking flustered. “I’d prefer a free coffee over…. your backpack candy.”

The three remained frozen for a moment before the second boy started to laugh, swaying into the one with glasses. “Jake, seriously dude. Why would she eat candy from a stranger?”

The first boy, who you now knew was called Jake, looked insulted and even more taken back as the conversation went on. “I literally go here, look at my beanie. Am I going to poison her in broad daylight right in the square?“

Your eyes trailed up to his beanie and you almost laughed, now noticing your universities logo knitted onto the fold. The boy with glasses was still smiling as he watched you, seemingly gauging your reactions to the current topic.

“To be fair the coffee would be free regardless.” Your attention went back to the second boy and you were starting to feel used to the dizzying pace of conversation changes. “Our friend works there, we don’t have to pay.”

“Sounds like a friend I’d want to have.” You were proud of the way it flowed off your tongue, feigning like you weren’t dripping in awkwardness was working in your favor.

With soft smiles you watched them turn on their heels and for a moment you lagged, wondering if you were meant to follow them or if they were just joking about hanging out with you. The paranoia was quickly lost when the boy with glasses glanced behind him, waiting for you to catch up.

——

It didn’t take long for you to understand that ‘getting free coffee from our friend’ more so meant they were planning to beg and plead with the pretty boy behind the counter for drinks.

The second you had walked through the door, a chirpy whistle ringing through the speakers to announce your arrival, the boy wearing an apron had sighed and rolled his eyes in your direction.

“Guys, not today. It’s busy okay.” He was waving a hand in dismissal but he had no annoyance on his face despite the exaggerated expressions. Still despite his warnings, the trio of boys all rushed towards the counter top and you followed hesitantly behind them.

“It’s urgent this time Sunoo.” Jake rushed out and the pink haired barista, Sunoo (apparently), put a hand on the counter and gave Jake a knowing look. “No I mean it this time, our new friend is injured.”

You completely froze at his word choice and four sets of eyes looked in your direction. Sunoo’s eyes softened seeing your bloody knees and hands, getting a closer look as you awkwardly waved as an introduction.

“What’d you do Jay?” He was asking and you felt confused for a second before remembering you hadn’t even gotten the other boys names.

Your silent question was quickly answered by the boy in glasses yelling out in defense and smacking a hand on the counter top. “Why would it be me?“

“It was Jake.” The second boy, still unnamed to you, was talking again and you watched him silently. “But it was an accident and we are here requesting an apology coffee.”

Sunoo’s eyes were flickering over their shoulders and back to you now and you held his gaze, curious about his thoughts on the situation. “Did they offer a real apology first?”

The other boys turned back to look at you and you once again saw Jake’s eyes well up with guilt for hurting you. You shrugged softly and dug the toe of your shoe towards the floor.

“I like coffee.”

——

You’d been spending the last few weeks waiting for your genetic ‘bad person’ radar to go off.

At times you felt guilty for almost looking for a reason to not trust the four boys who had quickly become your first and only friends at college and quite frankly, throughout your entire school career.

During one of your many movie nights, you’d just sit and watch their faces. Waiting for a moment of fake expression, a slight glare towards the others or a glitch in their nice facade. But you were quickly understanding that you had simply hit the lottery on friends.

You were especially fond of Jungwon, the final nameless boy had swiftly infiltrated your daily routine and become your closest and most trusted friend. You knew you weren’t his bestfriend, considering he was the type of person who made friends anywhere he went, but you found yourself feeling lucky he was yours.

The other three were just as good, although slightly more extroverted than you were prepared for. Jake was loud and puppy like, and absolutely clumsy, something you should’ve realized considering your first encounter.

Jay wasn’t around as much as the other three, rarely texting back in the group chat but Jungwon assured you he was just busy studying and that he also was on the football team, which surprised you.

When he was around, he was typically quiet and silently moving around with an amused look remaining stuck on his face.

And most of your mornings throughout the week, you spent with Sunoo, sitting in the same spot in the corner of the small coffee shop and attempting to show gratitude for all the free drinks he gave to you.

It was taking you some time to catch onto their rhythm, they were obviously familiar with each other and had learned each other’s patterns and behaviors but you felt a small bud of hope and pride knowing you had managed to make friends despite how sheltered you felt on your first day.

Now however, you were regretting it.

Somehow, unbeknownst to you, Jake had not only managed to drag all 3 of you to Jay’s first football game of the year, but he had also gotten you all to coordinate supportive outfits.

“I definitely don’t like the school enough to be wearing this.” Your mouth was downturned in a slight pout and your arms were crossed tightly in front of you, resisting the urge to scratch at the paint on your cheeks.

“But we like Jay.” Jake argued, stretching his leg over the bleacher and tumbling into the spot next to you. You heard Sunoo groan from the other side of him as pieces of his popcorn spilled overtop. “And you look sort of badass.”

You turned your head to scowl at him and met his smiley face, the mock war paint across his raised cheeks was mirroring yours.

“You do a bit.” Your eyes shifted slightly to watch Jungwon’s head peek out from behind Sunoo. They looked like three meerkats all staring at you with big smiles. “The pout really adds to the intensity.”

“Oh I can be intense.” You argued and uncrossed your arms, placing them firmly down on the bleachers. You tried to hold back the shiver that wracked through you when your hands touched the dewy droplets.

Then the game was starting and Jay was following his teammates out onto the wet grass, his eyes focused and more intense than you were used to.

“Let’s go Jongsung.” Jake was springing from his seat suddenly, arms up in the air and you jumped back to avoid the rain of popcorn that he seemingly forgot he was holding.

You were stopped in your slide away from Jake and his food tornado when you smacked into somebody’s side, you quickly swung your head around to glance to your right and froze up at the icy glare being shot your way.

The boy sitting next to you was staring daggers down towards you as you leaned back onto your hands, attempting to distance yourself from his face while also not wanting to sit on the wet popcorn.

There was a beat of silence that passed between the two of you, the sounds of your friends cheering and the plays of the game being announced slightly drowned out but the rush of anxiety in your head.

You weren’t sure what you were waiting for, if you were expecting the boy to snap at you for colliding with him or maybe even pick a fight with Jake for spilling his popcorn all over the surrounding area. His eyebrows were downturned still and you imagined whatever it was, couldn’t be good.

For a second you could see your mom, frowning and wagging her finger in you in a haste to alert you that this guy was bad news, and then he spoke.

“You have popcorn in your hair.”

Your mouth parted in surprise and it took you a moment to process that he was speaking, and that it was directed towards you, and he hadn’t called you an idiot for hitting him so suddenly. Without moving you glanced up at your hair, still frozen in your seat.

“I’m sorry about my friend.” A voice was coming from behind you now and you realized Sunoo had climbed out of his seat and was now sitting on the bleacher above you, watching the interaction with a curious look. “She’s an idiot.”

This knocked you out of your trance and you scowled, turning your body to smack his leg and push him as he started to laugh and scoot back towards his seat next to Jungwon. You turned back to the boy and your scowl dropped when you met his stare again.

“I’m sorry.” You tried to keep your voice steady but your eyes failed you, bouncing all around his face and back over his shoulder to avoid looking at him. He didn’t respond to you, only watching you intensely for a moment and then turning back away from you.

Once the hold of his gaze was lifted you slowly turned your body back to face the field, locking eyes with your friend who was standing against the fence down on the greenery. He raised an eyebrow in your direction and you titled your head in confusion, but a whistle was blown and he was jogging back to the benches before you could get an explanation.

——

The boy eventually left and you were able to relax, the game went by faster than you had thought it would and you even found yourself having a lot of fun watching them play, despite not understanding exactly why you were standing and cheering as you followed Jake’s lead. You were glad to be leaving the stands now though, hands cold and stiff, your nose was most likely bright red as you sniffled and walked down the slippery steps.

Out in the parking lot, it was dark now except for the bright lights from the field causing a slight white hue onto the parked cars. You carefully avoided puddles as you listened to your friends animatedly talk and recap the plays.

“So you enjoyed it then?” A voice was calling out slightly, cutting off Jungwon mid sentence and causing the three of them to stop their pace and glance behind you. You followed their actions, turning around slowly to see who had spoke.

There was two boys you didn’t recognize approaching you and you felt a spike of anxiety run through you at the unfamiliar situation. Their football uniforms showing your schools logo slightly calmed your nerves as you figured your friends must know them.

However you felt a hand wrap around your arm and turned your head to see Jake scowling and pulling you back towards the three of them. You hadn’t seen Jake with such a negative expression before and the fear built up again.

“What do you want Nishimura?” His voice was deeper than usual and laced with anger and annoyance. The two boys across from you kept up on their strides to approach you, stopping a few car lengths away.

One of the boys, still wearing his football gear but loosely holding his helmet down by his side, smiled and held a hand out in mock surrender. “Since when are we so hostile Jakey? Don’t be so formal.”

“Don’t ask stupid questions then.” The tone of Sunoo’s voice was one you had heard before, when he scolded Jungwon or complained about the noise of you all, but the intensity was completely new. He lacked all the affection that normally followed.

Your eyes turned to the boy who hadn’t spoken yet, he lacked the cocky smile that the Nishimura boy was sporting but he held your gaze tightly and cocked his head to the side.

“We can’t ask how your night was?” Nishimura was speaking again but you kept your gaze on the other boy, a silent staring contest. “Or who your new friend is?”

At the mention of you, you broke your gaze on the other boy and looked towards the one speaking. He was watching you with amusement and slight curiosity but there was something else behind the surface emotions and you once again heard your mothers voice.

This boy was absolutely no good.

“It’s none of your business.” You barely registered that you had spoken, the anger in your voice unfamiliar even to you but you had judged his character and your mind was made up. You felt Jake’s hand squeeze your arm but you weren’t sure if it was in support or warning.

“She speaks.” You were slightly surprised when the other silent boy spoke, head whipping to look at him. He was leaning on his side against the car near him and keeping his stare on you still.

“What are you guys doing?” A third unfamiliar voice was chiming in now and you were reminded of the first day you had met the boys next to you, although the vibe of the situations were complete opposite’s.

Nishimura turned his head to look behind him but the other boy kept his eyes on your frame, causing you to shuffle in discomfort. He seemed to know who was approaching without looking.

“Just catching up with some old friends.” Nishimura kissed his teeth and shook his head like he was disappointed in the outcome of the situation. “Shame they’re not up for conversation.”

When the third unknown boy finally caught up to you, the light from the stadium bouncing off the water to highlight his face, you were taken back slightly to see the boy you had bumped into earlier.

He seemed just as surprised, quickly masking it however. He slowed his pace as he stood in between the other two boys, analyzing the situation that was unfolding.

“Niki.” He was speaking, his voice low and almost commanding. You watched as Nishimura (Niki rather) slowly lost his amused grin and glanced at the boy next to him, waiting for his next words. “Don’t cause unnecessary issues.”

A scoff caused your attention to go back to the boy leaning against the car and you heard Jungwon sigh from behind you, obviously familiar with said boys antics somehow.

“Whats the issue? Because they’re Jay’s friends we can’t talk to them?” You didn’t miss the way he spat your friends name, like it pissed him off just to say it and you frowned.

Weren’t they on the same football team? Why did they seem so upset at your friends, and you just by association.

“Is that what we’re doing?” Sunoo was laughing behind you but it was dry and humorless. “Yeah some of us are talking.”

The sarcasm seemed to upset the third boy more and he pushed off the car, taking a few steps in your direction but stopping once the boy from the bleachers held a hand out against his chest.

He turned towards his friend and glared, shoving his hand away from him but not taking another move to approach you.

From your left, a car alarm chirped and you jumped slightly, bumping into Jake who hadn’t let go of your arm yet. All of you, including the boys you didn’t know, looked towards the noise and you felt both relieved and scared to see Jay standing by the car with the keys in his hand.

You waited for a moment to see what would happen again. If the boys would make a slick comment, if Jay would explain what was happening or laugh and say it was some prank. Maybe a fight would even break out considering all the tension.

However, in true Jay fashion, he didn’t spare a glance at the three boys in the distance. He simply nodded his head towards your group and unlocked the car. “Let’s go.”

——

“Okay are you going to keep sighing or just ask me.”

You felt bad for disturbing Sunoo on his break but you couldn’t help your overflowing curiosity about the other night. After a silent and tense ride home, nobody had spoken about the situation.

When you showed up to movie night the next day you were expecting some sort of conversation or maybe even attitude between the boys but they carried on like nothing had happened, like you hadn’t almost had a twilight style battle in the parking lot.

“Will you tell me if I ask?” You turned your head slightly and fiddled with your straw in your empty coffee cup.

He shrugged and sucked in a tight sounding breath. “Depends what you ask I guess… it’s not all my business to tell.”

You nodded and contemplated for a moment. Despite your dying need to know and understand the dynamics of what had happened, you had no interest in prying or sticking your nose where it didn’t belong. Especially since 1/3 of the boys you’d encounter had 100% failed the ‘type of person’ test.

“Can you tell me who they were at least?” Your voice was soft and you watched him intensely. Your mouth turned down slightly and you shifted in your seat. “I don’t know… they seemed mad, should I be worried.”

“They’re harmless.” His words tumbled out quickly, almost like he hadn’t meant to even say it. He seemed surprised at himself for coming to their defense so easily. “We all use to be friends… kind of. The one by the car was Heeseung, then Niki, and then Sunghoon.”

You mouthed their names and nodded along to what he was saying, pausing and waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t you felt more confused than you did before.

“Why did you talk to Sunghoon like you didn’t know him then. On the bleachers.”

He looked embarrassed slightly and you were becoming desperate to understand, but you were realizing you weren’t getting all the answers anytime soon.

“I don’t know him. He moved here right around the time we…. We stopped being friends.” He seemed like he was going in another direction but caught himself mid sentence. You felt bad seeing the dark expression on his normally cherry face.

“Just know they won’t hurt you.” He assured and you felt better hearing the genuine tone in his voice, he placed a hand overtop yours and squeezed it softly. “They normally don’t even talk to us.”

You were furrowing your eyebrows at that, opening your mouth to ask him what was different about the other night then for them to break a silent agreement, but you were cut off by the sound of the doors chime and Jake’s loud laugh.

You and Sunoo turned your heads towards the door to see your three friends pushing through it, seemingly racing for who gets to the table first. You felt guilt rise up at the awkward air between you and Sunoo and quickly tried your best to smile at the incoming trio.

Jungwon and Jake didn’t seem to notice the tense situation, clobbering into seats and urging Sunoo to go back to work. However it only took a brief glance at Jay to confirm he knew what you were talking about.

He sat in the chair closest to you and you held back a frown as he placed his arm on the back of your seat.

“I saw you talking to Sunghoon.”

The cafe suddenly seemed to fall silent and your mouth dropped open, struggling to find any words at his sudden accusation. You heard a chair creak like somebody was shifting uncomfortably.

“Jay…” Jungwon was awkwardly starting, nervously attempting to defuse the conversation that hadn’t even begun yet.

“They were already talking about it.” Jay cut him off, not sparing him a glance and keeping his eyes on yours. You were reminded of the boy from last night, Heeseung. Except Jay’s eyes lacked all anger or upset.

You felt slightly reassured at the soft look on his face, but also hurt that he would put you on the spot infront of the others considering his unwillingness to talk about it beforehand.

“He sat next to me. It was totally random I think.” You finally offered and he seemed taken back by this information.

“I didn’t even see him man.” Jake was slowly saying, approaching the situation like it was a live bomb. You were starting to think it might be.

“You don’t think that’s weird?” Jay finally removed his gaze from you and you took a deep breath, happy he was facing away now. “Has he ever come to one of the games before… ever sat on the stands like he gave a fuck what was happening on the field.”

Jungwon was sighing and sitting back in his chair. Out of all of them, he seemed the least hostile about the situation. If anything you were thinking he was more torn about what to do or what to say.

You thought back on the way Heeseung had spat the boy across from you’s name. There was no room for misinterpretation, something had happened there and he was definitely not forgiving in the slightest.

It confused you further that they were talking about the boy in the stands. Sunghoon had seemed like he was slightly agitated at his friends for approaching you the way they did. Almost having an authoritative energy towards Niki and reeling him back.

Why did his presence seem to upset Jay the most…. He had seemed nice enough on the stands and that was when he was given a perfectly good reason to cause a scene.

“What are you implying.” Jungwon voiced one of the questions you had but his tone was bitter and he let out a dry laugh. “That he purposely sought her out just to get under your skin. How would he even know we’d be there with her.”

“Let’s maybe not talk about her like she’s not right here.” You hissed and leaned back in your chair. The dismissal of your rightful curiosity and talking around you was getting to you.

Jake was frowning fully now and leaned over to pat you on the knee, keeping his hand there when he noticed your leg shaking in irritation.

“I’m sorry.” Jungwon sighed and you nodded at him, signaling it was okay. “It’s a touchy topic.”

“Really I didn’t notice.” Your tone was sarcastic and he smiled slightly. “Can you just tell me if I’m in danger or something?”

Jake nearly laughed at that and Jungwon started to shake his head quickly.

“No way dude, they’re completely harmless.” Jake assured, using the same word Sunoo had earlier. You frowned and looked at Jay who didn’t confirm or deny.

“We mean it Y/N.” Jungwon urged. “The worst thing Heeseung probably would do is steal your hoodie or something.”

You felt more confused hearing them speak so casually about the same boys they were spitting venom at the other night. The look on Jay’s face was filling in the blanks for you on who the issue had been between.

There clearly had been a moment when sides were picked and a line was drawn between them all for whatever reason. You didn’t sense any anger between the others individually, maybe secondhand in defense of Jay.

You decided that for now, you’d leave it where it was.

——

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Your foot was stinging from where you had kicked the vending machine seconds prior, after it had successfully stolen three dollars from you.

You placed your bag down on the ground, wrapping both hands around the large machine and shaking it as you rocked your frame back and forth. It rattled and buzzed, but no can fell from inside the stupid machine.

“What a thief you are.” You gave the thing a large shove and lept back when it teetered back ominously in your direction.

“I think you pissed it off.” You truly jumped now at the sudden appearance of a real voice, for a moment thinking the machine was responding to your insults. You whipped around to see Sunghoon, leaning against the brick wall.

You scanned his figure quickly, taking note of a sports jersey underneath his large leather jacket. Confusion wracked through you but you quickly looked away from him and frowned.

“I don’t think I’m supposed to talk to you.” You mumbled, squatting down and attempting to peer inside the machine. You sighed and considered sticking your hand up inside of it to retrieve the can yourself.

“Don’t do that.” Sunghoon had seemingly read your mind, you heard his jacket rustle and scrape against the rough brick. “Aren’t allowed huh?”

You felt anger surge through you at the smug tone in his voice and shook your head, not standing or facing him. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

“What I meant to say was that I don’t want to talk to a dickhead who upset my friends.”

He was silent behind you after your outburst and you felt fearful of his reaction for a moment, regretting not biting your tongue. Eventually he let out a hum of agreement.

“Which one are you dating by the way?” His question surprised you and you stood up quickly and turned to face him, a glare shooting from you.

“What the hell are you talking about?” You spat and tugged down your coat that had ridden up from your crouched position.

“I thought it was Jake for the way he practically turned into a feral dog in the parking lot protecting you.” As he kept talking you realized you had somehow managed to misjudge somebody’s character for potentially the first time ever. “But then I saw Sunoo holding your hand at the cafe.”

This threw you off guard. “You were spying on us?” You took a step away from him back towards the vending machine.

He watched you for a long beat of silence, an eyebrow raised like he was trying to see if you were serious. The word “harmless” was playing on a mantra in your head.

He sure didn’t look harmless, face slightly hidden behind the shadow of the machines. He was a lot bigger than you and his bleached hair made his eyebrows look ten times angrier than they possibly were. It didn’t help that he seemed slightly amused by your fearful demeanor.

“He works at the most popular cafe on campus.” He offered an explanation to you and you felt slightly dumb for not putting that together, but you were still on guard. “I just happened to pass by.”

You scoffed and bent down to pick up your stuff you had abandoned in your fight against the money stealing machine. “Well it’s none of your business, but I’m not dating any of them.”

His stoic demeanor seemed to falter for a split second before he stiffened his features again. You wondered why he seemed confused by that, if it was potentially rare for new friends to be brought into the existing group.

He took a few steps towards you and you locked up in fear, watching him intensely as he pushed off the brick wall. You kept your gaze tracked on him as he approached the vending machine, smacking it on it’s side.

You ignored the smile he shot your way as you heard the can thunk.

——

It was driving you a bit crazy, occupying your mind even when you were sat in class and meant to be listening to the important lecture your professor was giving.

You were blaming it on nothing but natural human curiosity. As far as you were concerned it had absolutely nothing to do with the way Sunghoon looked leaning against a brick wall or the fact you couldn’t get a read on him to save your life.

The mini version of your mom that tends to follow you around also seemed to be at a loss, offering you a shrug and half smile anytime you passed him on campus, which was an increasing amount you should mention.

At first you thought he might actually be spying on you like you had assumed a few days ago. He was turning up in classes you’d never seen him in before, he was sat lounging on tables in the square despite the cold bite to the weather, and he even had come into the cafe once or twice.

And that brought you to your current situation. You were sitting in your usual corner of the small building, but instead of your typical relaxed demeanor in your favorite place, your arms were crossed and your brows were furrowed.

Sunghoon was sat a few tables away from you, drinking from a straw and pretending like he didn’t feel your daggers in the side of his head. You didn’t miss the quirk of his lip every once in a while.

Even Sunoo placing a drink down infront of you didn’t break you from your one sided staring contest. He was invading your happiest place now and your patience for your new shadow was wearing thin.

A soft sigh from beside you made your frown deepen, you shifted your gaze up to Sunoo’s face as he watched you with exhaustion.

“Either talk to eachother or you’re both banned.”

Sunghoon seemed just as surprised as you at being directly addressed but he quickly masked it into an expression of indifference, the dip in your brows increased.

You didn’t say anything, looking down at your hands and fiddling with the coffee cups sleeve. Sunoo groaned but left you be, swiftly turning on his heel and going back to the other side of the shop.

A few moments of silence passed before your head the metal legs of the chair across from you squealing against the floor. You looked up through your eyelashes to watch Sunghoon swing his leg over the chair and sit widespread onto it.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” You hiss out, your leg starting to bounce in irritation and anxiety. He didn’t seem bothered by your tone, only lifting his shoulders in a loose shrug.

More silence passed between the two of you and you felt thrown off at the fact he hadn’t tried to start a conversation or make a smart remark back to you. Despite your threat of silence, you felt antsy at the lack of talking.

“Why are you following me?”

He let out a laugh before the final syllable even fell from your lips and quirked in an eyebrow in your direction, annoyingly calm and smug. “Why would I be following you?”

“You’re in my lectures.” You rushed out, not deterred by his fake casualness. “And why are you even here right now.”

He lifted his half empty coffee cup, shaking it around as a way to signal his reason for coming. “I’m in your class, not my choice.”

You were shaking your head now, leaning forward so your elbows rested against the cold table. He studied your expression as you got closer, not moving from his relaxed way of sitting.

“What’s the name of the teacher?”

Your lips curled into a smirk as he lost his facade again, this time it was prolonged and unmistakable. His eyes widened and his mouth formed an ‘O’, clearly not expecting you to question something that seemed simple enough.

You waited for him to get ahold of himself, snap back into his usual character and quirk back at you for noticing his presence in the first place. Instead he remained silent, watching you intensely with a weird expression.

He took one long final drink of his coffee and then stood up, leaving you in the shop with his empty cup.

——

It’d been a week since your strange encounter with Sunghoon, which meant it had also been a week since you’d seen the boy at all.

A large part of you felt extremely guilty, plagued with the thought that your questioning had caused him to disappear again, missing classes that he WAS apparently in. (You checked the attendance sheet.)

You were sat alone in the square, criss cross on a seat at one of the tables and laying your head down on your arms. You felt tired and the thought of hanging with your friends sounded draining for some reason.

The cold fall air was helping you stay grounded and you took low and deep breaths, enjoying the silence.

“Waiting for somebody?”

The universe must hate you. You froze mid breath and squeezed your eyes shut, willing all patience left inside you to come to the surface and help you appropriately deal with this situation. It would need a great amount of delicacy, considering the devil himself had spoken.

You opened your eyes slowly and titled your head to lock your gaze with a familiar pair, although the scenario you were in now was completely foreign.

Heeseung was sitting across from you, leaning forward on his elbows and watching your reaction to his presence. Unlike Sunghoon, your annoyance didn’t seem to amuse him. If anything, he seemed angry at you.

“Who would I be waiting for?“ You challenged causally back to him despite knowing exactly what he was implying.

You watched him closely, his jaw ticking as he tongued at his cheek in anger. You weren’t quite sure why he was talking to you and even less sure where this was heading.

“He told me to tell you he’d be back soon.” Frustration was coating his words as he recited them like he was being held at gunpoint. “He had shit to take care of.”

Shoulders lifting in a shrug, you uncrossed your legs and planted your feet firmly on the ground. “Why would I care?”

He gave you a look that implied he thought you were stupid but you were genuinely baffled that Sunghoon would think to tell you about his whereabouts. Did he somehow know you were overthinking his absence or was he just making sure he wasn’t leaving your mind despite being out of sight.

You and Heeseung fell into a weirdly comfortable silence, you continued to take your deep breaths and he was finally not staring you down, opting instead to look around at the changing leaves.

“Why do you not like me?” You cursed yourself and the lack of impulse control you possessed for interrupting the brief moment of peace, but he didn’t seem too angered.

“Do I seem like I like people much?” He wasn’t teasing or being accusatory, a genuine question in his guarded voice.

Shrugging softly you picked at your sleeves loose thread. “Sunoo said you’re harmless.”

He frozen slightly as the boys name fell from your lips, watching you with a curious expression. “What else did he say?”

“Jungwon implied you’re a hoodie thief.” You tried to keep your voice steady and nonchalant but when he let a small scoff escape him, your lips quirked in a half smile.

He seemed to be lost in thought for a moment, you wondered if he was lost in nostalgia and thinking back on whatever memories he had made with your friends or if he just wasn’t sure how to respond to your banter.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” He finally spoke again and you raised an eyebrow at him. “The other night, I mean.”

“I was more worried about your little side kick.” You tried to keep your tone light and jokey but he seemed to somehow sense the truth behind your words, guilt flashing over his features.

“He’s a good kid.” His voice was soft but urgent like he wanted you to believe what he was saying. “He took what happened really hard, he wasn’t like that at all before.”

For a second you considered playing along, baiting Heeseung into telling you details of the story that he seemed to think you already knew. This could potentially be your only chance at finding out what had occurred between the boys.

“It’s none of my business what happened.” You said instead, shaking your head and leaning on your elbows in similar fashion to him. “Is it really just something set in stone though?”

He sighed deeply and ran a hand through his hair. For a moment you remembered back to when you’d first met him, to the way he swatted Sunghoon’s hand off his chest.

He didn’t seem to hold the same respect for the other boy that Niki did, if anything, some of the anger in his gaze seemed directed at Sunghoon too, not just Jay. You were curious why he ended up on the side he did.

“I’ll get back to you on that.“

——

Considering how the last time you’d been in this scenery ended , you weren’t feeling the slight bit optimistic about how the night was going to play out.

You were squished in between Jake and Jungwon, a coat and scarf doing it’s best to warm you up although proving no match to the bitter cold night air. It was an understatement to say you were questioning the reasoning behind the months football was active.

Jay had actually requested you don’t attend this game, groaning and shaking off Jake as he hugged the former and plead for permission to come.

And here you were, shaking and already starting to sniffle, but you couldn’t help the adrenaline that pumped through you at the sound of the buzzing crowd and loud speakers.

The stands almost seemed blood thirsty, you felt anticipation and worry at the eerie undertone of their chants and yells. You decided you were just being paranoid, the game hadn’t even started yet.

When Jay ran out onto the field, recognizable to you despite being in a line of other boys in similar gear, you wasted no time, following Jake’s lead instinctively this time.

Your friend didn’t look in your direction but you watched him shake his head, a smile on his face beneath the slight embarrassment. You laughed as Jake flew back dramatically in his seat, yelling about his idol noticing him.

The crowd was vibrating as the game started, conversations flowing and passing by in a blur. Your cheers melted into your shrieks of laughter when Sunoo threw water in your direction, melting into groans of disappointment at a bad play for your team.

You felt drunk on social activity and everybody around you seemed just as amped up, worries about the high tension snapping escaped you and you finally leaned into the fan culture of the game.

And then a player, sporting colors unfamiliar to you, turned his shoulder completely and rammed into Jay’s chest.

The crowd took one collective breath, and then fell into complete silence. There was no mistaking the move as unintentional, the opposite player had completely changed his course of action and purposely struck your friend.

Jay was active and of course stronger than the average boy you knew, but his frame was still lean and more made for running long and fast rather than taking full frontal blows.

It seemed like hours passed in the seconds it took for him to hit the ground, shooting backwards a good few feet before smacking onto his back against the wet grass.

Before you even gave it a second thought, you were standing. Suddenly the cold and sticky air was nonexistent and you briefly registered the sounds of your friends stampeding behind you, down the bleachers and onto the asphalt.

You were stopped by the fence separating viewers and the field but now that you were closer, you could see firsthand the way Jay took staggered breaths and clutched where his chest would be beneath the gear.

It was a mess of refs and the standby emts, the coaches shouting at each other and pointing fingers close enough to touch the others face. You frantically looked around in an attempt to access the disorienting situation, looking for the guy who had hit Jay.

However, someone else had found him before you did.

The second you locked your eyes on the guys squared frame, he was hitting the ground with a shout and the crowd once again hit the play button on their screams and cheers.

This time their cheers were directed towards the boy who had tackled your school’s opponent, straddling his chest and shaking him aggressively. You watched in horror and shock as he ripped off the guys helmet and threw it carelessly away.

You barely registered a hand gripping your shoulder as you watched the boy on tops arm pull fully back before slamming forward into the others face, over and over again he put his full weight and muscle into assaulting his target.

Your body shook from the force of the hand on your shoulder and you glanced over to see Jungwon, his eyes wide in fear and shock. His gaze was also locked on the scene despite his attempt to get your attention away from it.

Before you could even begin to wonder why he seemed so fearful, a second player from your team was sprinting towards the fight and throwing off his helmet.

“No, no.” His voice was booming and desperate and you watched as Heeseung wrapped his arms under the boys armpits and attempted to rip him off of the other schools player, who had stopped moving at some point.

Heeseung was thrashing his body against the force of the others attempts to throw him off and when he finally managed to toss the boy backwards, you caught sight of who it was.

Niki was panting intensely, entire body shaking as he took a few steps back and forth, almost like a wild animal backed into a corner. His knuckles were bloodied and you weren’t sure if it was his or the other guys blood.

Heeseung was saying something to him that you couldn’t make out, freezing up when Niki’s glare turned towards you and the boys around you. The older boys hands were raised in an attempt to soothe his rage but Niki glared at him, sparing one last look towards Jay on the ground before storming off the field.

——

You’d practically gone numb from the cold by now, your thighs had lost feeling about an hour ago and the shaking of your hands felt natural.

You were sat on a lone bench outside of the schools medical office, only a few stragglers from the game remained and a couple of staff who were cleaning up spilled popcorn and discarded cups.

Jay had been rushed off the field and into the small building just a bit in the distance. It’s main use was for sports injuries apparently, you hadn’t even noticed it before tonight.

Luckily, the boy who had struck Jay wasn’t inside with him. He had been loaded up onto a gurney and rushed somewhere past the field where you presumed, more intense medical help awaited.

The scene was replaying in your mind on a loop and your stomach was tight with nausea at seeing such an intense display of violence.

Not to mention the glare that Niki had sent in your direction, almost like he faulted you for being the reason he had to hurt the boy. You weren’t sure if that was true because you didn’t understand the reasoning yourself.

You didn’t understand why the other player had struck Jay, if some game typical shit talk got out of hand or if they had a history. It only confused you further that Niki had been the one to come to your friends defense, possibly ending up in a lot of trouble.

No one chased after him when he stormed off and you weren’t sure if punishment would come later for him or if this was something both sides wanted to get ahead of.

Heeseung had looked around in a panic, eyes flickering to the stands like he was expecting to see somebody up there who could help, and then landing on where you stood by the fence. The desperation and upset in his eyes made you feel for him but they had quickly hardened and then he was off, similarly to his younger friend.

“You waited?” The sudden voice coming from infront of you caused you to jump in your seat and you trailed your gaze up to see a tired looking Jay standing and looking down at you.

His shoulders were low and you didn’t fail to notice the puffiness around his eye, or the slight shutters he took as he breathed in and out.

“Of course I waited.” You kept your voice calm and cautious, not sure if he was happy to see you or frustrated at the company. “Everybody did, but Sunoo made the others go home so they didn’t overwhelm you.”

He nodded along with you as you talked, an arm going up to push his hair back out of his forehead. It was a wasted effort considering his bangs fell back down on his face. He was staying close to where you sat, only a tilt away from your knees touching his shins.

“Are you okay?” You whispered when he didn’t reply to your rambles, you leaned your upper body forward slightly to try to look him in the eye. He nodded again, looking behind him out onto the field.

“Did you see where he went?” His voice was firm and you quickly understood that his vague question was referring to Niki and not the boy who had rammed into him.

You were standing now, slightly embarrassed by how close it put the two of you, nearly toe to toe. His breath was visible from the cold night air and you were worried if he turned his head back to look at you, your noses would touch. Despite your awkwardness, you reached down to grab his sleeve.

“Heeseung went with him.” You offered, instinctively giving him reassurance regarding the boy.

The unanswered questions you had still weren’t necessary for you to be able to tell that, at some point, Jay had cared deeply about the estranged boys. And clearly the feeling had been mutual.

Niki hadn’t hesitated in throwing his all into protecting Jay, risking everything in a moments notice. Whilst you were scared and slightly judgmental of the exact way he had handled it, you admired his loyalty.

Jay’s head turned back towards you and he looked down at where your red fingers were clutching his sleeve. You took a step back from him, still standing a little closer than you were used to, and he cleared his throat.

Before he could open his mouth to speak, somebody else was beating him to it and causing both of your heads to spin in it’s direction. This time you took a few steps away from Jay, completely giving yourself distance.

Sunghoon was standing slightly near the medical building and watching the two of you with a raised eyebrow. The sight of him after radio silence was intimidating enough and it didn’t help that he was stood with crossed arms and dark eyes. “Interrupting?”

Your eyebrows turned down in confusion before glancing towards your friend and piecing together what he was implying. You glared back at Sunghoon, not faltering when he held your gaze with his own annoyed one.

If you weren’t mistaken, he almost mirrored the expression of betrayal.

He quickly neutralized it however and uncrossed his arms, looking over towards Jay who had his shoulders squared now, awaiting whatever quick remarked was going to come his way.

“Are we going to go and find him, or what?”

—

The car had been quiet for the entirety of the ride so far, you were barely breathing to avoid adding any noise to the delicate air.

When Sunghoon had spoke back at the field you had expected Jay to dismiss him, to question why on earth he’d go with him anywhere. But he was always surprising you, only giving a firm nod and sending you a look that implied he wanted you to come with.

You were wondering if your sole purpose was to sit in the passenger seat of Sunghoon’s car so Jay didn’t have to. It was starting to feel like the worlds worst Uber and your head was hurting from the tension.

Still, it didn’t seem right to speak. As much as you wanted to ask Sunghoon about where he had been or ask Jay if he knew where you were heading right now, you figured you’d get answers shortly regardless.

Eventually you were pulling into a long driveway somewhere outside the city. When Sunghoon put the car into park, still no one spoke. Your body rocked with the car shifting and you leaned forward against your seatbelt to try and gauge your surroundings.

It was nearing 3am now and you were worried the bright lights pulsing into the windows would disturb the house owners, whoever they could be. Your worries were quickly silenced when a face appeared in the window, pulling back the half open curtain to glare outside in the cars direction.

It only surprised you slightly when you realized it was Heeseung, his eyes hardening when he saw Sunghoon’s car but his shoulders relaxed at the familiarity. Once again you questioned the tone of their friendship.

You felt eyes on the side of your head and slowly turned to look at Sunghoon who was watching you with a guarded expression. He raised an eyebrow and for once he seemed to lack his normal mocking look, a genuine question on his face.

Giving him a nod, you unbuckled your seatbelt and only faintly heard Jay do the same in the seats behind you. You waited until both of them were outside, doors shut, before following quickly on their heels.

Heeseung only looked taken back by Jay’s being there for a second and then he offered him a sharp nod and looked away. His gaze landed on you, standing hesitantly in the door way, and his tense glare softened slightly in confusion.

It was beginning to make you feel sick that nobody had spoke, the silence making your skin tingle and your head spin.

“Are you okay?” Your own voice surprised you, not even realizing you were starting to speak when you did, and by the way Sunghoon whipped around to look at you, you weren’t the only one.

The question was directed towards Heeseung, who was watching you intensely. His eyes were shooting down to your shaking hands and you hoped they weren’t still red from the cold. Although Heeseung had been the least physically impacted, you couldn’t shake the desperate look in his eye as he ripped Niki from the body.

“Are you?” You nearly bumped into Jay at the sudden appearance of the formerly mentioned boy and you clutched onto his arm instinctively.

Niki was rounding the corner, peering down at you from the kitchens doorway and you held his gaze for a moment before looking down at his hands and then back to him. He seemed upset at your fearful reaction to his voice and then a wave of understanding passed by and he offered you a small nod.

You felt bad for not answering him verbally but your gaze once again fell to his hands, eyeing the bloodied wrap around his knuckles. They were puffy and swollen and panic passed through you that he might need to go to the hospital.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” He seemed to read your mind and your eyes snapped back up to his. He was being uncharacteristically neutral but you had to imagine the nights events had drained the fight out of him. “You should see the other guy.”

The silence broke at his poorly timed joke. Heeseung let out a humorless scoff and walked off into the living room, aggressively flopping back against the couch chair. Sunghoon laughed for only a second before shaking his head and sighing.

Jay’s immediately took a step towards the boy and tilted his head, a dangerous anger radiating off him. “You think this is fucking funny Riki?“

The younger boy seemed to deflate for a moment, once again giving you a glimpse of that natural obedience he had shown Sunghoon in the parking lot. He quickly recalled who was speaking to him and his gaze turned into a glare, also taking a step forward.

“They could expel you.” Jay was spitting, close to the boys face. Your eyes shot over to Sunghoon who was watching the situation closely with crossed arms. “What if they charged you with assault?”

“He hit you first.” Niki was shaking his head in anger, seemingly genuinely distraught by Jay’s anger. You wondered if his loyalty made him so blind that he thought he was immune to consequences.

“It was too far.” Sunghoon was speaking now but his tone was far gentler than Jay’s. You started to feel bad for Niki considering the way all three of you were standing on one side and going against him. “You took it too far.”

Niki pushed off the wall he was near and paced a few feet in a circle around the living room area. You followed his figure with tightly locked eyes, not yet being able to predict the outcome of this talk.

“He was on the ground.” He turned back towards the three of you, frantically trying to justify what he did. The disappointment from the older boys seemed to hurt him deeply. “You didn’t even look like you were moving.”

The last sentence was directed towards Jay solely and you watched as his back deflated, locking eyes with the panicked boy infront of him. He took a few steps towards Niki at the same time Sunghoon took a large one back, closer to you.

You looked up at him in confusion to find him already staring down at you, an unreadable expression on his face. Your eyes floated back towards Jay and Niki but you were distracted again when you felt a hand trailing down your arm and eventually locking onto yours. This time you really kept your gaze on Sunghoon.

He started to drag you away from the scene despite your tug for release, it was no use and you couldn’t fight against your feet that started to follow him out of the room and down a hallway. For a moment you were confused where he was heading, watching as he opened the door furtherest away from the living room.

He stood in the doorway, waiting for you to enter the room first and you glared at him as you did, taking in the area. The door closed behind you and you turned your head to make sure he hadn’t locked you in alone.

Sunghoon was standing against the closed door, feet away from you and looking down at you with clouded amusement. Despite the tense and emotional night, he still seemed to find humor in your reactions.

“Why are we in here?” Your tone was low and annoyed, just above a whisper like you were worried about disturbing the moment down the hall.

“If you don’t already know what happened,” He started, titling his head while he looked from your feet back to your eyes. “This isn’t how he’d want you finding out.”

It aggravated you that his reasoning was so simple and so logical, and that he seemingly read your mind again about your knowledge on the situation. Also confusing you further that he’d protect Jay and offer him such privacy.

“Is he safe?” Your voice was shaking slightly and you felt embarrassed to show such vulnerability. You were simply exhausted both mentally from the laps it took to understand the smallest thing and from the late hours this night was bleeding into.

Sunghoon hardened and took a step towards you. You didn’t feel scared of him or his reaction towards you, letting him approach you and place a hand on your shoulder. He turned your body slowly and led you towards the bed in the room, letting you sit down.

“Niki would never hurt Jay.” He said firmly, assuring you as you sat and took a deep inhale. He stayed standing, looking down at you. His serious expression was overtaken by a look of amusement as he started to laugh.

You looked up at him with a deep frown, playing anxiously with your fingers and waiting for him to explain what he found so funny in this serious situation.

“It’s weird seeing you in my room.” He offered and looked behind you like he was accessing the picture. Your eyebrows shot up in confusion.

“You live here?” You weren’t sure why you had figured this was Heeseung’s house just because he seemed comfortable and had answered the door. “I thought this… that Heeseung did.”

“He does.” He explained and your confusion grew further. Why would they both live so far away from campus and considering how hostile all their interactions seemed, why would they be living together.

“Can I be honest?“ He raised an eyebrow at your tone and sat next to you on the bed, keeping a good distance between the two of you. “I thought he didn’t really like you.”

He let out a bark of a laugh which caught you off guard, never hearing such a genuine noise come from the boy.

“Heeseung doesn’t really like anybody.” He offered, shrugging and looking at you with a half smile. You thought back to the conversation you had with Heeseung in the square, the way he seemed filled with childlike curiosity regarding what Jungwon and Sunoo said about him.

“I know it’s not my business,” You started slowly, not quite sure how to word what you wanted to get across to him.

“It’s driving you crazy, isn’t it?” He filled in the blanks for you and you glanced over at him with a half smile, you imagined your eyes were heavy and tired as you nodded.

He looked especially handsome right now, you couldn’t help but note. You were so used to seeing him in passing, normally adorning a cocky grin or a tight demeanor. Yet he looked the best now, here in his own room, casually sitting on his bed with tired eyes.

Neither of you spoke as you studied his features and expression, him doing the same towards you. You were wondering what he was thinking and if he was coming to any sort of conclusions about you when a knock sounded on the door. It opened before Sunghoon had a chance to invite them in.

You watched as Jay’s head peered around the door and your cheeks flushed at the surprised look on his face upon seeing you and Sunghoon sitting near each other on his bed. Standing up swiftly, you played with your fingers in front of you and awkwardly watched your friend.

“I called Sunoo to come and take you home.” He explained his reasoning for coming to fetch you and you furrowed your brows slightly. You felt a weird heaviness settle in your stomach at the thought of leaving him here.

He seemed to sense your apprehension and took a step into the room. “Everything’s fine.” He offered but you weren’t sure if ‘fine’ meant for this specific situation or if they had patched things up in general. You doubted it was the latter considering how deep it seemed to run.

You glanced back at Sunghoon to find him uncharacteristically looking down at his lap, avoiding your gaze or maybe avoiding Jay. You thought about taking a step back towards him but opted instead for muttering a soft goodbye and following Jay out his door.

Jay’s hand fell onto your back as he guided you down the long hallway comfortably, obviously familiar with your current environment. When you passed back into the living you were surprised to see the other two boys still there.

Niki perked up when he saw you, looking like he had something planned to say to you, but he didn’t get a chance when sharp knocks echoed throughout the house.

Jay took a step forward to open the door, and you felt a wave of relief and comfort upon it revealing Sunoo. He looks mildly irritated and his hair was messy like he’d just left his apartment in a hurry but seeing him was enough to calm you down.

“We have an issue.” He sighed and whilst his tone lacked any real seriousness you still felt nervous at the thought of more conflict arising tonight. You quickly pieced together what he was saying however when you heard Jake’s loud yell from outside.

You stretched on your feet to look around Sunoo’s frame and smiled softly when you saw Jungwon and Jake clambering out of the car and quickly making their way over to the house.

They also seemed completely familiar with it, making their way down the path and up to the porch despite the darkness of the night concealing the steps. You glanced behind you into the living room to see Heeseung perking up at the loud voices.

He was still sitting but now his hands were tightly gripped on the arms of the furniture, sitting straight up and rigid. He was forcing down an intense swallow and you looked back at Sunoo and tilted your head.

Your pink hair friend simply sighed before taking a reluctant step into the house, successfully avoiding Jake by only a second before he barreled through the door. He had tripped over the mat that was sat outside the door and Jungwon was standing behind him, watching with an amused expression.

Sunoo, however, didn’t look pleased at all by the situation. If anything you’d think he was being forced at gun point to be inside of the house. You felt guilty at the exhausted look on all of their faces.

“They insisted.” He started to offer a casual explanation and you had no doubt in what he was saying. You briefly noted the sound of Sunghoon’s door closing as he approached the now crowded room.

Jake was pushing past you to smack into Jay, wrapping him in a tight hug and lifting him off the ground for a second before seemingly remembering the events that caused your current situation. “Oh my god, oh my god.”

You stumbled from his push, catching your footing to watch him repeat the familiar lines and check Jay for any sign of discomfort or pain. Jungwon approached from behind now and swiftly smacked the back of Jake’s head for his mistake.

A throat cleared from behind you, directly behind you, and you looked over your shoulder to meet the sight of Sunghoon’s chest. You must’ve stumbled in his direction in your haste away from tornado Jake. He was watching the trio from over your shoulder.

The creaking of the weight changing on the couch caught all of your attentions and seven pairs of eyes turned to look in Niki’s direction as he stood. The air was heavy and silent and you waited to see what he was going to say.

“Dude.” Jake’s voice from behind you was ringing out instead but you kept your eyes on Niki who looked surprised at being addressed so directly. “If I knew you could hit like that I would’ve stopped calling you short like 2 years ago.”

The silence rang out again as the joke landed, you winced slightly, not sure it would be reciprocated well.

However, loud laughter sounded from behind you and now you finally turned around, eyes wide as you watched Jay bend over slightly and squeeze his eyes shut as he laughed at Jake’s words.

You were baffled, wondering what conversation could’ve possibly happened in the few minutes you were gone that could drastically change his mood towards the situation.

Clearly you weren’t the only one judging by the way Heeseung was shooting up off the chair he was sat on and pushing past all of you, swiftly making his way out the front door and into the cold night without a word. You frowned deeply and watched as he went, not quite sure he’d want somebody following him.

A hand was pushing against your back softly and you looked back at Sunghoon for clarification. He was watching you with a soft expression and gave you another nudge towards the direction Heeseung had went, signaling for you to follow the boy.

You looked towards Sunoo who had come to pick you up but upon seeing him in low voiced conversation with Niki, you figured they wouldn’t mind waiting here for a bit.

Sucking in a deep breath, you followed Heeseung out the door.

——

Apparently you didn’t take into account the length of Heeseung’s leg, or his haste to get far away from the situation, because by the time you’d gotten outside he was nowhere to be seen.

Still you had a general direction to follow and the further you walked along the dark foggy street, the clearer his final destination was to you. A park was coming up in the distance and you faintly could make out a figure sitting still on one of the swings.

You weren’t exactly sure how to approach him, but eventually you took a deep breath and decided to just offer him silent company. If he found it in himself to want to talk, you’d be an open ear.

He didn’t say anything when you approached, and still when you sat in the swing next to him and rocked just a bit so you could sway.

You both sat and listened to the sounds of the chain creaking.

“I had a sister.” Eventually he spoke and you slowed you swing to a stop, looking over towards him and watching the side of his face as he talked. “Same age as me. As us, I guess.”

The tense in which he talked about his sister didn’t pass by you and your stomach felt heavy at the countless scenarios that could’ve happened. You took a baited breath and waited for him to continue.

“Growing up I never really liked having her around much I guess.“ His voice was deep and sad but there was a small amused smile on his face. “She was loud and talkative and I was worried my friends would like her better than me or something stupid like that.”

“Jay did I think.” You furrowed your brows as he talked and he spared a quick glance at you before starting to talk again. “Sophomore year he came to me and told me he was inlove with her. He’d said he didn’t know how it happened and he was sorry, but he was and he didn’t know what to do about it.”

It hadn’t dawned on you to ask any of the boys how long they’d known each other and you were slightly taken back by the fact Jay and Heeseung had so much history. Then you were further in your confusion at his second revelation.

“I was pissed, I mean who wouldn’t be right.” His voice was tighter now but he was shrugging to himself, like he was still trying to convince himself he did the right thing. “So I told her what he’d say. I just wanted her opinion on it, you know? Then she tells me she was in love with Sunghoon.”

Your heart fell deep in your stomach and you looked away from Heeseung once his face twisted in a grimace. Things were starting to make sense to you, atleast why Jay and Sunghoon didn’t get along but you felt like it was something deeper than just liking the same girl.

“We went off to college, Sunghoon didn’t go here with us at first. I guess he still couldn’t bring himself to face Jay even though it wasn’t really his fault. We still hung out sometimes, with Niki.”

It suddenly made sense why Sunoo and the other boys didn’t seem as familiar with Sunghoon as everybody else.

Without thinking you reached out a hand towards where Heeseung sat on his swing and watched as his eyes shot down to it and then back up to your face. He offered a sad tired smile but eventually took your hand in his and squeezed it as he continued.

“One night,” He took a deep breath and shook his head. “Sunghoon comes banging on my door, Jay answers it and they both just look at eachother. Hoon is breathing all hard and can’t seem to get a word out and now I’m standing and we’re both trying to calm him down and it was just a mess.”

“He tells me….. well he says.. that he’d just seen my sister and she had told him that she was still inlove with him and had practically begged him to accept her after all these years.” He was pushing the story out now and you used your free hand to wipe your wet cheeks.

“And he didn’t.” He says it softly and drops his shoulders. You aren’t quite sure what the meaning of his words are but he delivers them like it’s the answer to all your questions. “And she couldn’t handle that I guess.”

You both fell silent for a few minutes and you squeezed his hand tightly so he would look in your direction. When you locked eyes with him you felt sick at the despair and guilt he seemed to hold.

“Heeseung.” You started and he squeezed his eyes shut tight like you’d hurt him. “That wasn’t your fault.”

He shook his head again and scoffed, taking his hand from yours and looking to his left out into the dark.

“Wasn’t it? Maybe if I let her hang out more, or given Jay the chance to confess without being so angry and protective, she could’ve fallen for him too.”

“She loved Sunghoon.” You spoke softly, not quite sure you were allowed to give your opinion on such a delicate subject.

He looked back at you and held your gaze. Eventually he gave you one single nod and chewed on his lip, eyes heavy and wet.

When he stood from his swing and pulled you up into a hug, you final took a deep breath and wrapped tightly around him. Neither of you spoke once you broke apart and started the walk back to the house but your mind was racing.

It was suddenly making sense to you for the most part. Why Sunghoon and Jay both seemed torn and betrayed at you being with either, the look Niki had given you almost like you’d brought up past emotions, even the fact all boys seemed shocked at your appearance in the friend group . It still confused you why Heeseung had chosen Sunghoon over Jay but you figured you could ask him at another time.

You looked over at Heeseung when you rounded the street back towards his house and you were remembering his unsupported anger towards you when you first met.

Maybe you had reminded him of his sister, down to the similarities of age and your friend circle. You no longer felt angry at him for the way he scared you or tried to intimidate you.

——

Days were passing by quickly after that long cold night and you were focusing back in on your studies and daily life. It was getting colder and colder each day and you felt the world around you preparing to slow down for the winter.

You’d still been seeing the boys on occasion, even meeting in new pairs and groups with familiar faces in different settings. It was interesting to watch things settle back into an old rhythm you hadn’t been around to witness the first time.

Niki and Jungwon arguing over video games and who’s turn is when, Heeseung sitting at the counter while Sunoo completes orders and sometimes Jay would be with him too although they’d keep one seat empty between them.

It was an early morning now and you were sat watching one of the boys final practices before the football season ended. You weren’t sure when it was added to your routine or when you started to find comfort in it but watching them play off of each other was something you enjoyed a lot lately.

Today you were accompanied by Jake who was uncharacteristically silent as he watched them throw the ball back and forth.

You were studying the side of his face for a bit, watching the way he chewed on his lip and fidgeted slightly in his seat. He seemed to be locked in thought and far away.

He must’ve felt your gaze on him because he nervously glanced at you and then away again, scratching his neck when you didn’t look away at first. “Sorry.” He murmured and you cocked your head.

“I’m just thinking about how weird it is we all are friends again.” He shrugged and you sighed softly.

“A good weird though, right?” He nodded in confirmation at your words but he still looked a bit saddened. You figured he must be worried it wouldn’t last long, another problem arising and hurting everybody for the second time.

You scooted closer to him on the bleachers and wrapped your arms around one of his, hugging it towards you and sitting flush against his side. “Don’t think about it too much. It’s good right now and that’s what matters.”

He glanced down at you glued to his side and offered a half smile, not quite reaching his eyes like it normally did. But you were slightly relieved to see him nod in understanding and pat your head with his free hand.

You both sat like that for a while, watching the practice continue on, until another person was stepping onto the bleachers and glancing up at you and Jake, clearly looking for you.

Peering down at Sunghoon you took a deep breath and you felt Jake laugh slightly against you at your obvious nerves. He squeezed your arm and gave you a slight nudge.

Reluctantly you stood from your spot and started to walk down the metal steps, meeting Sunghoon at the bottom of the stands and following him when he turned on his heel and headed towards the exit gate.

“I haven’t seen you much.” You were speaking to the back of his head, and it was true. You hadn’t seen him practically at all since everything happened, going back to only interacting in passings full of heavy stares and glances.

“I needed to figure some things out.” He turned to look at you and you studied his red nose and shifty eyes.

“Did you?”

He shrugged and looked at his foot that was twisting anxiously into the cement, his fidgeting was causing you to shift in your own place.

“Do you think I’m a monster.” He eventually asked with a curl of his lip and furrowed eyebrows, almost like he was afraid of your answer. Your features softened as you looked at him and shook your head. “You should.”

“Why would you say something like that?” You questioned and took a step towards him, a hand coming to rest on his arm. “It wasn’t your fault.”

He was looking down at you with a pained expression, glancing at your hand on him for just a moment before going back to your eyes. You hoped they showed how genuinely you meant what you were saying to him.

“Don’t disappear again.” You added earnestly, squeezing his arm to further prove your desperation. “I was just starting to not find you annoying.”

Thankfully your joke made him laugh, although it was a small chuckle you felt better at the slight smile on his face reappearing. Taking a deep breath, you decided to stomach your nerves and move towards him.

You pulled him into a tight hug, wrapping your arms around his middle and stuffing your face into his chest. It was silent for a few seconds as he froze up, but then you felt yourself similarly embraced by him.

“Is this a bad time to ask you to go to the final game with me.”

——

The final game had gone completely different than the previous ones and you felt like things were finally starting to settle down, both in real life and in your thoughts.

As you all sat decked out in school colors and merchandise, rocking into eachother and singing the team anthem and nearly filling up a whole row of bleachers with your friends, you could see your mom one last time. She was giving you a big thumbs up and those soft teary eyes she’d get whenever you made her proud.

The same eyes you had as you all ran down to the field upon a victory goal, pushing past the gates and tackling Jay, Niki and Heeseung in hugs and back pats that sent them flying in multiple directions with a smile on their flushed faces.

A smile that stayed on everyone’s face through Christmas, a day you all spent crammed in Sunoo’s living room as you watched Niki open gifts from the rest of you.

When you had heard that his family was in Japan and that’s why he was so close to the older boys, you and the others immediately called home and explained why you needed to stay behind for the holidays.

And the smiles stayed even when Sunghoon found you crying on New Years, outside on the fire escape with red cheeks from the cold and a sniffly nose.

“What happened?” He rushed out as he swung his leg through the open window and joined you outside on the icy metal. “You disappeared.”

The more time you spent with your friends, the more you saw the boy infront of you as far more than that. You’d gone out dozens of times, just the two of you, but it hadn’t advanced further than soft glances and touching hands on accident.

“I was so worried for the holidays.” You sobbed out, embarrassment escaping you due to the few drinks you’d had at the New Years gathering. Vaguely you could hear Jake announcing the minutes left. “I wasn’t sure what to do after my mom passed.”

Sunghoon watched you with a gentle gaze but didn’t say anything. You hadn’t told them about your family much, always changing the subject or giving vague answers. Truthfully you had been dreading the cold air, knowing eventually the day would come where you wouldn’t get to fly home for Christmas.

You constantly were paying extra attention to the weather, feeling sadder every time your nose started to run or you needed to put on an extra layer.

Sunghoon crouched down next to you, falling back onto his butt and hissing at the feeling of the wet and cold steps. Still he pulled you closer to his side and wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

“I know we aren’t her.” He started and you looked at him, comforted by how close your faces were. “But you don’t need to go anywhere to be with family anymore.”

You didn’t need to ask him to clarify, knowing exactly what he meant when the cheers of the countdown started from inside. You glanced back through the window to see all your friends huddled together and starting to count.

Jungwon was looking around the room, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and worry and you realized he must be looking for you, not wanting you to miss the ball drop.

Sunghoon squeezed your shoulders and helped pull you up from the ground, steadying you as you stood and guiding you back inside through the window.

He kept close to you as you approached your friends and you smiled despite your grief and teary eyes when your friends cheered at the sight of you, swiftly pulling you into the huddle and jumping slightly together.

It was messy and loud, knees knocking and multiple near accidents but you laughed freely as you all hit one, a chorus of happy New Years and well wishes following.

You registered Sunghoon standing behind you, pushed flush against your back in his attempt to join the huddle and you spun around in your spot so you were back to facing him. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He laughed as he spoke at your sudden greeting, smiling down at you with fondness. “Happy new year.”

You nodded at him in agreement, watching his face for a moment. He raised an eyebrow as you studied his features and leaned towards you a bit almost instinctively.

“Yeah.. it will be.” Before he could ask you what you meant — and before you could lose the small amount of courage the look in his eyes gave you, you pulled him down to you and into a kiss. Sunghoon hesitates for a moment before kissing you back, and you smile against his lips as you feel his arms slowly make their way around your waist.

Pulling away after a couple moments, Sunghoon looks down at you, the fondness in his eyes replaced with a look of love. Hearing the whoops and hollers from the boys around you, your courage crumbles as you bury your face in his chest.

Laughter erupts through the group as Jake mutters “It's about time...” Pulling away slightly from your embrace with Sunghoon, you look at your friend group to see them all looking at you both with bright smiles, and you laugh as Jake playfully rolls his eyes.

"You're just jealous since you’re still single, Sim." Jay nudges Jake with his shoulder as more laughter erupts through the group. Sunghoon rests his head against yours, his arms still loosely wrapped around you as you watch the antics return, and you swear you can feel your mom pat you on the shoulder, her voice ringing out in your head with an “I’m so proud of you.”

[paperbackribs]

A Tarnished Copper Boy (8)

Previous | Next | Ao3 Last chapter, Eddie was finally able to make sure Steve wasn't bleeding out and the two of them came to the agreement that Steve would stay at Eddie's trailer (and in his bed) until this time travel business is resolved.

Chapter 8: Because It's Love

It had been a week since Steve appeared in Eddie’s living room, mouth full of toothpaste and not bleeding out onto the ground as he had feared, and they were settling into a routine. Eddie away at school for most of the day, Steve healing at home, evenings filled with soft laughter, and nights of Eddie determinedly scooted over to the far edge of his side of the bed.

Steve hadn’t said anything, but Eddie caught him eyeing him a couple of times before he settled in under the covers. Eddie hadn’t been able to interpret the enigmatic expression on Steve’s face; he just hopes he doesn’t think sharing a bed with Eddie is too weird.

He had skipped school the first day Steve was there, over his protests. Eddie saying he wanted to just hang out, with the unspoken message that it was in case Steve disappeared once again. But he hadn’t, his body staying firmly within the Munson residence. Sprawled out on the bed, idly flipping through D&D magazines while Eddie had completed his homework; a compromise for ditching that Steve had been oddly firm about.

Wayne came home from his shift at the plant and, if he was suspicious about a boy exiting Eddie’s bedroom while wearing his clothes, his uncle hadn’t said anything directly about it. Eddie had haltingly tried to explain the situation without giving away the truth of it all.

“He’s in a bit of a bind,” Eddie said, shifting on his feet while Wayne made himself a box of macaroni and cheese. Wayne pensively stirred the increasingly gooey contents in the pot over their stove top, its unmistakable buttery richness wafting through the air. “He’s a good guy, I promise. And if he had anywhere else to go, he’d probably be there, but it’s just this weird thing and I’d like to help him out while I can. Is it okay?”

Eddie had stuffed the nail of his thumb in his mouth before he let any more words spill from his mouth, nervously chewing on the cuticle. Wayne continued stirring before finally looking at Eddie through the corner of his eye, one bushy eyebrow raised in question. “And his parents?”

“Not on the scene,” Eddie said truthfully, spitting out a piece of skin. His face twisted in a grimace, “I don’t think they’re really around normally or… the sort of people he can trust or turn to.”

Eddie may have laid it on a little thick, but the thing is — Wayne is infuriatingly good at sniffing out Eddie’s lies, and he nodded in a way that made Eddie think that his words may ring with a deeper level of belief based on observations and half-formed suspicions. He’d flashed back to Steve, concussed and swaying in his arms: no hospital and, later, no one to call.

Eddie may finally end up in jail one day for any multitude of sins, but at least he knows that Wayne will always take his phone call.

Wayne had switched the stove off and, bending down below the counter cupboard that Eddie was perched at, brought up three bowls. The amber dishes glinted in the kitchen lights as Wayne spooned the little elbow noodles evenly amongst them. “Just make sure he cleans up after himself.” And with little fanfare, Wayne had given his blessing and taken his dinner away to eat on the couch.

Eddie however enjoys a little pomp to his ceremony, so as the older man had settled his weight onto the seat Eddie darted forward and pressed a kiss of gratitude against those salt and pepper whiskers. “Thanks, Uncle Wayne.”

Wayne had grunted in response. Ostensibly ignoring his nephew to flick on the television with the remote, but in his faint nod, Eddie could tell that he was pleased.

“So, we’ve just passed Thanksgiving, then?” Steve asks now, throwing a baseball into the air and catching it again in a rhythmic thud, swish, thud. Eddie has no idea where he’d gotten it from.

It’s Monday evening, Wayne has the late shift, and Eddie is technically drafting an outline about the use of German propaganda in World War II, but the subject had spurred a campaign idea about a lord turning the people against their stalwart heroes. Jeff’s elf and Gareth’s half-orc are going to find it hard to persuade the locals for information or help, while Sarah’s human fighter and Randy’s human mage will enjoy a warm welcome. Their new guy, Dougie, was coming with his character on the day, so Eddie would wing it for him.

“Thursday before last,” Eddie confirms, shading in a dastardly moustache in the little figure he’d drawn on the margin. He pushes down a twinge of guilt for not doing his work by concentrating on drawing a fantastic representation of his new villain.

“Huh,” says Steve. “Did you watch the Cowboys win?”

Eddie shoots a dry look over his shoulder, “Do I look like a balls guy.”

Steve snorts and mutters something under his breath. Eddie squints at him, suspiciously “What?”

“Nothing,” Steve shakes his head with an innocent smile before returning to the baseball in his hand. Thud, swish, thud. “You do much?” he asks. Sprawled across the brown couch, his back against the arm Steve looks relaxed and carefree. A week of doing nothing much but vegging in front of the television, catching up on sleep, and generally healing has done him a world of good. He idly scratches over his clothes, targeting the irritation of his healing stitches.

As Steve had promised, he runs hot and, even in the chill of early December, his feet are bare. He wears a pair of grey jeans with a black Metallica tee, across it Kill ‘Em All For One is splashed across a red outline of America. Eddie hadn’t been able to go to the concert, but he’d traded a few party favours to Randy for the shirt. The jeans are one of his looser pants, but Steve’s thighs bulge within them, and his bubble butt fills out the backside in a way that Eddie’s flat ass has no hope of ever doing.

Steve had taken to switching between this outfit and the sweats/Dio combo and Eddie can't figure out which one makes him want to lose his mind more. It depends on the day, Eddie decides, and whether Steve is bending over to pick up anything off of the floor.

Eddie hums a negative about their activities over the holiday, “We don’t have much attachment to it, no. But now that you mention it, Wayne may have been excited over his game.” He adds reluctantly. “But I’m pretty sure it’s the Hooters that he roots for.”

“Hoosiers,” Steve corrects with a laugh. Thud. Swish. Thud.

“That sort of sounds like a cowboy,” Eddie offers carelessly, not having a real solid idea about the meaning behind the word. “It’s not,” Steve says dryly, looking at Eddie with pity.

Eddie shrugs, “Other than that, I just messed around. Ate turkey sandwiches and pumpkin pie — homemade this year, courtesy of Miss Catherine.”

Steve grins over at him, having been told all the gossip about reticent Uncle Wayne and their sharp neighbour. He lets out a little oooo like a child taunting a girl and boy holding hands at school. Eddie snorts: watching Wayne blush his way around Catherine while doing absolutely nothing in response does feel about as raunchy as watching first love innocently bloom.

“What about you?” Eddie asks. “Would you normally be doing anything?”

The sound of the falling ball stops, and Steve looks down at the white leather contemplatively. “Let’s see,” he muses. “1984… We’ll fly out to Chicago for the annual family dinner at great-grandfather Kingsley’s home. There will be bland conversation and even blander food. Uncle Robert will once again share his theory that immigrants are ruining this country, which Aunt Linda will object to for appearance's sake even while her husband will lean over to agree with Robert. Cousin Chester will point out that, no, clearly, it’s the gays since they’re being punished by God for their deviant ways.

“Then, just as everyone is nice and sloshed, trading catty barbs about who’s doing the worst in their career or their inability to pop out babies, my father’s mistress will arrive with the news that she is pregnant.”

Eddie has felt his mouth steadily drop and has no qualms about showing Steve how batshit insane he thinks his family is. Steve looks over, correctly interpreting his expression and nods with a wry smile and raised eyebrow like can you believe this shit. “Oh, you just wait, there’s more. Tears are shed. Voices are raised. But we can all calm down because abortion is only a sin unless it is in this very specific circumstance.”

“Steve, your family is nuts,” Eddie chokes out. And he had thought that the pinnacle of family drama was Millie burning her cheating husband’s clothes over their grill in the front yard.

“No, no, no,” Steve tuts while wagging his finger, sounding like he’s mimicking an older woman, “Crazy is for the poor, spirited is the term you’re looking for.”

He rolls his eyes heavenward, “That was only surpassed by Christmas ‘85 when Cousin Chester is outed by his girlfriend in a martini-fuelled breakdown over where she saw him last month and with who. Turns out being gay is also a sin — unless you have a passing fancy to stick your tongue down another man’s throat.”

He makes a tired rolling gesture with his wrists, “Followed by heartfelt promises to put a ring on it and never let himself be tempted by the devil again.” Steve pauses, shaking his head in disgust, “He runs for City Council Member the following year. Prick gets it too.”

Icy fingers run down Eddie’s spine at the disdain in Steve’s voice as he talks about his cousin. Is his dislike for Chester because his cousin is a bigoted hypocrite or because he likes to kiss men? Contemplating that the answer may be both, Eddie’s gaze drops to stare down at his crude caricature of an evil aristocrat. If he curves the brows towards the middle of the eyes then the little lord will seem even more malevolent.

As if he senses his drop in mood, Steve pauses and calls Eddie’s name questioningly, but Eddie is focused on his drawing. Erasing the slashes on the forehead, he keeps his gaze down, wondering whether it’s worth shattering his expectations about Steve to ask and potentially get the answer that he dreads.

He thinks about it, letting his mind roll out the scenarios. Don’t ask Steve but know that he probably hates gays; feel disappointed, but perhaps not surprised, never, ever, ever show Steve that part of himself ever. Add another drop in the bucket titled coward.

Or maybe he asks, and Steve tells him outright that it’s a sin: of course Chester is going to hell. And, never, ever, ever show Steve the greedy shadows inside him that don’t just want other men but want Steve specifically. Overflow that bucket, drop a fat stone of self-loathing in it named spinelessness.

“Eddie, hey. You’re going to rub a hole through the paper if you keep doing that.” Steve gently plucks the eraser attached to the end of a pencil from Eddie’s grip. Eddie’s hands drop, the spread of his palms flat on the paper echoed in those icy fingers inching at the base of his throat, readying to strangle him.

Finally, because curiosity—whether for better or worse—will always prod at Eddie, he asks quietly, “Is it because he’s gay? That you don’t like him.”

He continues to stare at his spread fingers, unable to look up and see the confirmation flashing across Steve’s face. But he hears him huff out a breath.

“No, I don’t like him because he used to trip me at the bottom of the stairs when I was six and he was twelve. I think he’s ignorant because he sees the height of sophistication in a blonde girlfriend and an expensive watch. I believe he’s on the path to being an outright evil bastard because, even limited, he has power; he’s in charge of money that could help the people in his community, but he’ll either send funds on to friends for infrastructure works or he’ll disguise policies as family-friendly, but that actually means kill em’ all.”

Eddie’s eyes flick to Steve’s shirt before slowly rising to his face. It’s angry, red rising in his cheeks and eyes, “Chester has resources at his fingertips to tackle AIDs at a community level, but he won’t. And, okay, he’s obviously going through something if he’s sneaking off to kiss guys and I could empathise with that if he weren’t also a hypocrite complicit in literal deaths.”

Eddie remembers feeling a similar sentiment towards Tommy and wonders whether Steve has ever considered his former best friend in the same light. Whether he has an inkling of the torch that Tommy obviously carries for him.

“So, you don’t think he’s a deviant?” Eddie asks, hope warming him through and pushing those cold tendrils away.

“Better a deviant than a complicit prick,” Steve says hotly. He pauses before adding, “And just for the record it’s not deviant, it’s not a sin. It’s love. And that’s better than what those assholes at Thanksgiving could manage.”

Eddie smiles down at his hands, it’s love echoing in his heart and head.

He swallows down the swell of emotion that wants to pour forward, to take another risk and ask Steve if that acceptance extends to the person sitting in front of him. But this is enough for now because it’s love rings through Eddie, giving him hope of being seen and loved himself.

Even if it’s never Steve, maybe romance and affection aren’t outside the grasp of a tarnished copper boy. Perhaps there will be kisses and hand holding and more, that Eddie has only been able to half dream of because it’s love. Because the opposite of deviance is normal, it’s okay, it’s right and true, and it’s because it’s love.

Eddie plucks the pencil/eraser from Steve’s fingers and starts to draw a hero who will cut down the evil lord at his knees, freeing the people from his suffocating reign.

“Okay, then,” Eddie challenges, “What other stories you got?”

Steve laughs, lounging back on the couch and tells him. Thud, swish, thud.

💚💫💚

Eddie rolls off the couch with an exaggerated oomph, letting his limbs splay out, face pressed into the brown and white shag carpet. It’s musty but smells miles better after Steve’s regular jaunts at vacuuming. He hears more than sees Steve turn towards him from the cupboard. “You all right there, bud?”

Sabbath quietly roars in the background, telling him— no, compelling him to embrace the thrill of the night and Steve Harrington is calling him cutesy names like a toddler being picked up from kindergarten. Abruptly, Eddie becomes aware of how much flatter his ass must look in this position and he quickly rolls over, dark hair flopping over half his face.

Steve’s long body appears above him, looking down at Eddie with a quizzical expression and an unflattering double chin. Eddie hails the divine favour that blesses him at that moment, showing him that the world is full of more than only injustice: even Steve has an unflattering angle.

He’s holding an armful of freshly washed and dried bedding along with Wayne’s shirts and Eddie’s jeans; Eddie doggedly ignores the plaid red boxers sticking out between them. There’s no point in being embarrassed at Steve cleaning his unmentionables when they’re sharing anyway.

He blows at the curls that had clung to the bridge of his nose, “Why is life one long exercise in eating, cleaning, shitting out said eating, and then doing it all over again?” He squints his eyes up at Steve like he’s accusing him of being responsible for the natural order of the world, “I am ouroboros eating its tail, fallen into a cycle of life, death, and rebirth.”

Steve’s face crinkles in amusement before juggling the washing onto the lounge table they had pushed to the side. He starts to placidly fold Wayne’s shirts, “Right. I’m not sure what the oreo is, but I’m getting the feeling that you don’t feel up to making dinner tonight.”

“Sandwiches okay?” Eddie tilts his chin up to follow Steve’s movements, his neck pulling taut in a satisfying reach.

Steve’s eyes flicker as he watches Eddie stretch before he looks away, “We still have those eggs and the bacon? I’ll make pasta.” He leaves to shelve the folded clothes, Eddie’s head rotating as he watches that butt bounce away. He sighs up at the ceiling, Steve may have one unflattering angle, but he makes up for it in square footage. Maybe life is unfair after all.

Eddie hears Steve make a soft exclamation, “Oh, you kept it.” He looks over to see him pull out the bomber jacket that he’d been wearing when he first arrived, the tactical vest falling heavily to the ground after it.

“Oh, yeah. Shit, I forgot,” Eddie apologises. “I was able to wipe down those two, but the pants were infused with what smelled like gasoline, so I binned them.” He points a hand behind Steve, “The boots are in the back.” Steve has literally not left the trailer since he’d arrived nearly two weeks ago—as they agreed would be best—and it hadn’t occurred to Eddie to offer shoes.

Steve contemplates the vest fallen at his feet for a moment before shrugging, stuffing his clothes back into the cupboard followed by storing Wayne’s in a far neater manner. “That’s okay, not like I’ve needed them so far. But it’s good to know that I’ve got them.” Shortly after, the sound of the fridge door and the clang of a pan tells Eddie that Steve has started in on dinner.

Around them, curling in the air like smoke broken from a crystal ball, the music loses its urgency, rolling out into a steady, heavy pulse. Eddie taps one long finger in appreciation for the beat, mouthing along with the beast is free to wander, but never is seen again. He wonders if Steve would appreciate the measured, deep rock of Led Zepplin.

He'd taken one look at Steve’s face while playing Motörhead and decided to slow-roll the guy into the harder genres of metal. If he has enough taste to appreciate Bowie then psychedelic rock probably isn’t too far behind, which really is just a hop, skip and jump to the masters Eddie loves. Christmas is coming, maybe he’ll get Steve Van Halen’s latest. They’ve moved in the direction of synth which has Eddie’s lip curling automatically, but he thinks Steve would like it.

The idea of it takes hold of him and Eddie imagines Steve over Christmas time, paper hat askew over thick locks and a pile of ripped paper at his crossed ankles. Eddie rolls, hauling himself upright to amble over to the kitchen counter. “Christmas is approaching, the fair jingle of bells and clanging of hooves exciting all the boys and girls.”

Steve huffs out a breath. “Yay,” he deadpans, “Let all the boys and girls rejoice amongst themselves then.”

“Steve!” Eddie exclaims, splaying his palms on the counter across from him, leaning in with intensity, “That is the holy holiday you are talking about.”

Steve eyes him over the onion fumes, lashes only slightly damp. “You were just telling me that Thanksgiving isn’t worth celebrating.”

“But it’s Christmas,” Eddie whines, melodramatically dropping his arms to hang off the counter. Spreading his body in abject despair, he peeks through his hair to watch for Steve’s reaction. His lips twitch, but he remains unwavering in the face of Eddie’s completely real and justified distress.

Steve flicks a curl off of the wooden cutting board before starting to mash the garlic with the flat of his knife, “I don’t know what to tell you, man. You’ve already heard all the stories — if I could avoid the holidays, I would.”

“That’s sad, Steve,” Eddie says more seriously, straightening, “Just because your Aunt Margaret nearly drowned when she went face down in potato mash doesn’t mean that Christmas isn’t a time of delight.”

“Yeah, you’re obviously a fan.” Steve prompts him as he turns to adjust the stove top temperature, water boiling in the pot as he adds a clutch of long pasta. He doesn’t break it like Eddie would, to save time; instead, he pokes at the softening strands until they’re all safely tucked under the bubbling surface.

“It’s fun,” Eddie shrugs, watching Steve’s hands flex and confidently move. “Mama used to put up tinsels and decorations; so many different colours that it probably looked tacky to adults, but I loved it. She’d play Bobby Helms and dance with me under the lights. I’d look up and it was like the stars of the night exploding with fireworks, just for us.”

Eddie sighs wistfully as the cascade of images falls gently, flipping through his mind with the soft brightness that only comes from fond, faded memories. “Her fruitcake was the best.”

Steve’s face twists into a dubious cast, “I’ve never come across fruit cake that wasn’t a combination of cardboard and brick.”

“Well, you haven’t had my mama’s then,” Eddie retorts.

Breaking eggs apart into a bowl, Steve’s smile is small and enigmatic as he concentrates on separating the yolk. “No, I haven’t,” he agrees warmly.

Eddie sighs, “And when she died…”

Steve’s eyes flicker up, his body stilling. Eddie has the sense that he could unfold every tired secret from his past right now and Steve would sit for as long as it takes, listen with a kind ear, and perhaps even help heal a sliver of Eddie’s heart in the process. Instead, he says simply, “Let’s just say Pop didn’t think putting in the effort to decorate was a very manly endeavour.”

“Ah,” Steve says, understanding etched over his features.

Shaking off old aches, Eddie grins brightly, “But Wayne! Now, he’s a gentleman of discernment. Every year, he drags out his kitschy collection of mugs, plates, and cutlery designated for Christmas, along with a specific baseball hat usually stored away with his book of Christmas recipes — for all that he never uses it. And, on the twenty-sixth, everything is cleaned, dried, and packed away. He’s very particular about it.” Eddie winks, “I tell him that I get my weird from him, but he refuses to believe me.”

Steve laughs lightly as he drains the pasta. Once done, he turns to add the garlic and onions to the heated pan, the combination erupting with a violent hiss as the vegetables meet the hot oil. “Sounds nice, sounds like what family should be,” he admits.

Eddie hums in agreement, watching Steve deftly add, stir, and flip the ingredients. A clatter at the door has him glancing over to see Wayne walk into the trailer, he nods at the two of them in the kitchen before bending over to toe off his boots.

“Well timed, grubs up,” Steve says, smiling tentatively.

Wayne appreciatively sniffs the air as he hangs up his worn flannel jacket, “Smells good, let me just clean up.”

Steve ducks his head as Wayne walks past, concentrating on mixing the pasta and sauce and then plating it onto the bowls that he had prepared. Eddie has noticed a certain reticence about Steve in the face of his uncle and, at first, he had worried that Steve disliked Wayne. The more often he saw the wariness in Steve’s eyes though, the more Eddie’s become convinced that the cause is something different.

He’s not sure, but he doesn’t know how to ask either. Somehow do you have a problem with my uncle doesn’t feel right. The tone of it aggressive and ill-fitting between them. And, after he had assumed the worse of Steve and his attitude towards his cousin, Eddie has felt the unexpected urge to give Steve space and time to tell him what he’s feeling without Eddie pushing and prodding it out of him.

With a flourish, Steve grinds pepper over the tops of the pasta and pushes two servings into Eddie’s hands. They sit on the couch, the slight sag in the middle pulling them together. Flicking on the television, Eddie passes over the extra bowl to Wayne as he walks past. A metal hinge squeaks as he settles heavily into the armchair, letting out a tired sigh.

The sound of studio laughter rings out when Mork lets out an exuberant na-nu na-nu and Wayne chuckles too as Mindy’s father falls into a musical battle of piano versus keyboard with his mother-in-law. Steve’s eyes flicker to Wayne at the noise, but he remains silent, steadily nibbling away at his dinner.

The uncertainty of it all fills Eddie with a swelling tension. Rather than letting loose the giggle that tickles at the back of his throat, he hums exuberantly around a big mouthful of creamy noodles. “This is delicious.”

Wayne glances over at Eddie’s enthusiasm with a raised brow, but he doubles down. “Best pasta we’ve had in a while, right, Wayne?” Steve turns to look at Wayne and Eddie rises a brow right back at his uncle, staring meaningfully over the back of Steve’s shoulder.

Wayne’s eyes fill with a subtle humour before gradually nodding, “Much better than most of what you cook.” Eddie huffs indignantly: he’s trying to open the channels of communication not open himself up to potshots. “I think I remember someone burning eggs the other day — that takes real skill.”

Steve snorts, quickly looking down at his bowl as if to hide his reaction.

Wayne warningly points a fork at Eddie, “Watch it. I’ve seen you manage to cut yourself open while eating an apple, you’ve no room to talk.”

“I’m happy to keep cooking,” Steve interrupts, finally raising his head to glance between them and looking strangely hopeful. “It’s the least I can do while you put me up.”

“It’s a kindness,” Wayne says with an approving nod. “Nice coming home to a hot plate.”

“I cook!” Eddie cries, embarrassment riding high in the reds of his cheeks.

“You make sandwiches,” Wayne pointedly observes.

“Yeah, well—” Eddie squints accusingly as he waves a miffed fork above him. Steve ducks before it gets stuck in his hair, eyes gleaming in amusement as Eddie continues to protest, “You’re the one who taught me. Those in glass houses, old man.”

“My house is just fine, Eds. But, yes,” Wayne finally agrees, tipping the bowl forward to show it half-eaten, “This is the best pasta we’ve had in a while, bar Catherine’s lasagne, of course.” Of course, Eddie mimics in his head and rolls his eyes, the man’s head over heels and can’t even admit it.

“A dash of parmesan would make it better, so it’s a little plain,” Steve offers, smiling slightly like he’s pleased with their reactions.

Wayne pauses before saying, “Give me a list and I’ll make sure to get you what you need.”

Steve nods a little stiltedly, but the tension that had filled Eddie steadily leaks away, allowing him to breathe more fully. The air is clear and all three men grin or chuckle as Mindy assertively dips Mork, passionately kissing him.

Accordingly, Eddie doesn’t think much of it when he walks in on Steve the next day talking quietly to Wayne, not since he hands over what is clearly a shopping list. And coming home from school the next two days is a delight as Steve serves beef burgers and then meatloaf. If asked, Eddie would normally say that home smells like a combination of Winstons and Wayne’s aftershave, but now he mentally tallies in the aroma of Steve's cooking.

Steve laughs later as Eddie says as much, casually slotting the leftovers of the meatloaf and salad into the fridge. “Half the time it’s just the onion and garlic you’re smelling, Eddie.”

Eddie bites down on his lip in happiness as he heads to the bathroom to brush his teeth, feeling delightfully full of a satisfyingly hot meal and giddy at listening to Steve’s laughter. He sticks his head out the door, calling out teasingly, “But it’s what you do with it, Steve-o. It’s divine.”

“I think we should take your magnificent talents out onto the road,” Eddie continues, speaking around a mouthful of minty foam. He turns into the kitchen, “I’m not saying we’ll sell your body, just your hands…”

The fridge door is hanging open and the kitchen is empty, electricity humming steadily in the background. An awfully familiar feeling runs through Eddie as he dully watches the light inside switch off with an absent clicking sound. Carefully shutting the white appliance, he leans over the sink to spit out the building saliva in his mouth.

Eddie leans against the counter, the hard slab digging into his lower back but also acting as a needed support. “Steve,” Eddie calls out listlessly, already knowing that he won’t hear an answer.

There is none and Eddie nods to himself.

Right, Steve’s gone but he’s come back before. This was his third visit and a fourth is more than likely. This time too, Eddie won’t have to uselessly fret at the idea of Steve hurt and bleeding out. Maybe a couple of weeks will pass for Eddie, but from Steve’s perspective seconds will pass and then he’ll drop onto Eddie’s floor once more.

In time for Christmas too, Eddie determinedly decides.

It’s only been three times but, so far, the pattern has shown Steve staying longer and taking less time to come back to him. Christmas is three weeks away and the longest stretch of absence was four weeks; therefore, it’s reasonable to expect him to fall through his portal with an oomph and ready to celebrate the holidays with the Munsons.

He’ll make it a good one, too. Eddie will replace memories of drunk Aunt Marge and asshole Cousin Chester and Steve will laugh at Wayne’s Rudolph plates and pinken in delight at Eddie’s gift.

He believes it with firm resolution while in the heart of Hawkins Records on Main Street, Eddie handing over the cash to pay for Van Halen’s 1984. Tucking the cassette away into the pockets of his leather jacket with a faint pat for protection.

He knows it to be true in the school cafeteria, the tables buzzing with students more than ready for a holiday away from homework, tests, and the drama that comes with shoving a few hundred kids together in one small space. Gareth passes over his banana to Jeff, even as the latter bemoans sharing a car backseat with his sisters for their coming road trip. Eddie grins at him in sympathy while also swearing that this is the one Christmas Steve won’t have to travel to cold Chicago.

Wayne finally declares a week before the day that it’s time to put up the Christmas tree. Eddie had told him that Steve needed to leave suddenly, but that he would be back. Not saying much of anything about it, Wayne had simply nodded his acceptance and let Eddie put off decorating until the last minute. But he’d clasped Eddie to his chest with one arm around his shoulders, thawing a little of that cold fear inching towards Eddie’s heart.

Later, as he stares down at the yeti tree topper that he thinks Steve will get a kick out of, his uncle clasps a warm palm to his shoulder and shoves a hot chocolate into his hand. Eddie takes it with an appreciative sip, smiling in thanks and getting back to making the tree look perfect.

The balloon of faith holds all the way to Christmas Eve, sitting cross-legged on his bed and carefully running his hands over Steve’s gift, making sure that the sharp corners of the plastic case hasn’t torn at the cheerful red and white paper dotted with stockings and candy canes. But it’s as the weak morning sun starts to shift and fill his bedroom the next day that Eddie lets that balloon deflate, a gradual surrender.

He chews at his lip, not even annoyed with letting himself hold onto hope because it had given him purpose. It had allowed him moments of anticipation which helped fill the Steve-shaped space that Eddie has rapidly come to expect next to him.

He is an old hand at losing the battle for the war and this is just a blip. So what Steve isn’t here today? It’s just another day and Eddie will see him soon again.

Eddie rolls out of bed with renewed determination, hair bushy and strides sure.

He and Wayne will cheerfully celebrate Christmas today and Eddie will tease Steve about all that he missed. Riling him up into a cute pout until finally handing over the gift that will just have to sit unopened for a little longer. Then Steve will listen to the music, humming along, and tell him that it was a perfect choice.

“Come on, old man, time for the magic of Christmas,” Eddie shakes the blanket burrito wrapped atop the couch bed. A disgruntled sound comes from within its centre. “Eds, just one Christmas, for the sake of Christ and all that is holy on His day — let me sleep in.”

“Never,” Eddie sings, gaze snagging on the yeti tree topper. He looks away. “Come on,” he says, shaking what he thinks is Wayne’s shoulder, “I’ll make the annual Christmas pancakes, green dye included, and you…” Eddie takes pity on his hardworking uncle, “Take your time, but get up. For real.”

Later, bed folded away, pancakes consumed, and Brenda Lee rollicking on in the background, Eddie hands over his gift to Wayne: a wide-lipped red mug with love thy neighbour scrawled in cursive across it. Wayne huffs in amusement as he unwraps it before handing over his offering.

Eddie tears off the green paper with white reindeers in his usual savage exuberance. He’d opened his present from Wayne in a similar manner that first year together and it elicited such a genuine laugh of amusement from him that Eddie had been helpless to open a present in any other way since.

Beneath the festive wrapping is a cozy, grey, thick-knitted jumper, soft enough that it won’t irritate Eddie’s sensitive skin. Grateful, Eddie leans over to plant a loud, smacking kiss on Wayne’s whiskery cheek. Wayne serenely pats his shoulder in response, sipping from his new mug that’s already full of coffee.

Eddie is gathering the discarded paper torn to pieces around him when Wayne clears his throat. He holds another green-wrapped gift in his hand; curiously, the creases and folds reveal a thick round silhouette held tight against a circular backdrop.

Wayne pushes it into Eddie’s hand, saying gruffly, “He mentioned that he may not be able to make it. Didn’t have much choice from the sounds of it, but he wanted to leave something behind just in case.”

Looking down at the heavy package in his hands, something wobbles, tipping to the side within Eddie. In all his hopes and planning, he hadn’t considered that Steve would want to celebrate with them. Not after his clear expression of dislike for the holidays.

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Eddie slowly unwraps the paper, sliding his nail under the plastic tape and neatly folding the wrapping beside his knee. As he unveils the gift, a medley of brandy and spice rises to Eddie’s nose and, in the centre of a familiar Reindeer plate, sits a fruit cake.

Slightly burnt on one side with a crack running through its middle, Eddie feels safe to guess that Steve had made it. Likely thinking of Eddie and the fond memories he still carries in his heart, sharing them with Steve who, in turn, returned the memories back through a thoughtful gift. On top of the uneven glaze, in Steve’s neat handwriting is a slip of paper that says Merry Christmas, Eddie.

Eddie’s smile bobs and dips before shining again; even falling through time, Steve is still with him.

If you liked anything, please consider leaving a comment over on Ao3 :-) It would make my day!

Tag list:

My tag list is always open, so let me know if you want to be added. Likewise, if you want to be removed, let me know. :)

@bookworm0690, @child-of-cthulhu, @cinnamon-mushroomabomination, @ellietheasexylibrarian, @finntheehumaneater, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @gutterflower77, @hallucinatedjosten, @just-a-tiny-void, @ledleaf, @littlewildflowerkitten, @manda-panda-monium, @mightbeasleep, @nburkhardt, @newtstabber, @stillfullofshit, @tartarusknight

[rose-of-the-grave]

Yule Ball

Pairing: Harry x Hermione

This is a combination of these two requests. Sorry it's kinda short. I hope you enjoy it! I'm the author (please don't repost ♥️)

Masterlist. Read on Ao3

Warnings: fluff, dancing, idk

Word Count: 494

Taglist: @sylveryfire

Description: The Yule Ball, if Harry had gone with Hermione.

It was a night full of excitement and nerves as the sky darkened over the snow covered castle. The Great Hall was decorated fitting the wintery theme and students were gathering around, waiting for the dancing to start.

Meanwhile Harry was waiting at the base of the stairs, waiting for Hermione. He kept on fidgeting with his dress robes, nervous. When he had asked her last minute to be his date to the Yule Ball he had expected her to say no. She hadn’t. Instead she smiled and said yes. Harry had been so relieved after having been rushing around trying to find a date along with Ron. His best friend had managed to ask Padma Patil who had thankfully said yes. The two of them were now waiting in the Great Hall with everybody else.

“Is that Hermione?” He heard someone ask. Turning around he saw Hermione standing at the top of the staircase. She looked beautiful in her blue dress, walking down the stairs slowly, a nervous expression on her face. They locked eyes and she smiled, meeting his gaze. He met her at the bottom of the stairs.

“You look nice.” He said.

“Nice?” She asked, arching an eyebrow teasingly.

He blushed, “Beautiful.”

She raised a hand, playfully ruffling his hair.

He shook her off, a little disappointed because it had taken him hours to tame his unruly hair.

“I hate you, ‘mione.” He said playfully, still smiling at her.

She giggled. “No you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.” He insisted, laughing.

Hermione pulled him in for a tight hug, “No you don’t.”

“No, I don’t,” Harry admitted. He hugged her back, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. Her hair, not nearly as bushy as usual, tickled his nose a bit. She smelled nice, he noticed. He’d never really thought about what she might smell like but somehow, she smelled exactly like he expected. For a second he forgot where they were and simply sunk into her embrace.

Far too soon they had to pull apart when the rest of the champions started to line up in front of the doors. All of a sudden Harry became nervous again, worrying about having to dance in front of everyone. Hermione slipped her hand in his, squeezing gently to reassure him.

He glanced over at her and remembered that he had no reason to be worried. Hermione had probably been paying closer attention to the dancing lesson than he had and had probably already mastered it.

They walked into the Great Hall side by side along with the rest of the champions and their dates onto the dance floor. Once they all got into position, the music started up and they started to dance. For a while it felt as if the whole room disappeared and it was just the two of them accompanied by the music, dancing off into the winter wonderland. It was a magical night that they would both remember forever.

[lotsofsq]

MILLIGAN! he’s got a face that’s very hard to stylize, but i’m really happy with this one, i it looks the most like him

[ID copied in alt text: a drawing of milligan, standing straight with a sad but neutral expression. he is stylized to have his whole nose outlined starting at the eyebrows, showing the bump of his nose. he has concerned eyebrows and a bushy beard.]

[takemyrevolutions]

“Is it, er, possible for a woman to be, you know, a wizard?” she said eventually. Simon stared at her. She gave him a defiant look. His throat strained. He was trying to find a sentence that didn’t start with a W. In the end he was forced to make concessions. 

“A curious idea,” he said. He thought some more, and started to laugh until Esk’s expression warned him. 

“Rather funny, really,” he added, but the laughter in his face faded and was replaced by a puzzled look. “Never really t-thought about it, before.” 

“Well? Can they?” You could have shaved with Esk’s voice. 

“Of course they can’t. It is self-evident, child. Simon, return to your studies.” Treatle pushed aside the curtain that led into the back of the wagon and climbed out on to the seat board. The look of mild panic took up its familiar place on Simon’s face. He gave Esk a pleading glance as Treatle took the reins from his hands, but she ignored him. 

“Why not? What’s so self-evident?” 

Treatle turned and looked down at her. 

He hadn’t really paid much attention before, she was simply just another figure around the campfires. He was the Vice-Chancellor of Unseen University, and quite used to seeing vague scurrying figures getting on with essential but unimportant jobs like serving his meals and dusting his rooms. He was stupid, yes, in the particular way that very clever people can be stupid, and maybe he had all the tact of an avalanche and was as self-centered as a tornado, but it would never have occurred to him that children were important enough to be unkind to. From long white hair to curly boots, Treatle was a wizard’s wizard. He had the appropriate long bushy eyebrows, spangled robe and patriarchal beard that was only slightly spoiled by the yellow nicotine stains (wizards are celibate but, nevertheless, enjoy a good cigar). 

“It will all become clear to you when you grow up,” he said. “It’s an amusing idea, of course, a nice play on words. A female wizard! You might as well invent a male witch!” 

“Warlocks,” said Esk. 

“Pardon me?” 

“My granny says men can’t be witches,” said Esk. “She says if men tried to be witches they’d be wizards.” 

“She sounds a very wise woman,” said Treatle. 

“She says women should stick to what they’re good at,” Esk went on. 

“Very sensible of her.” 

“She says if women were as good as men they’d be a lot better!” 

Treatle laughed. 

“She’s a witch,” said Esk, and added in her mind: there, what do you think of that, Mr. so-called cleverwizard? 

“My dear good young lady, am I supposed to be shocked? I happen to have a great respect for witches.” Esk frowned. He wasn’t supposed to say that. 

“You have?” 

“Yes indeed. I happen to believe that witchcraft is a fine career, for a woman. A very noble calling.” 

“You do? I mean, it is?” 

“Oh yes. Very useful in rural districts for, for people who are—having babies, and so forth. However, witches are not wizards. Witchcraft is Nature’s way of allowing women access to the magical fluxes, but you must remember it is not high magic.” 

“I see. Not high magic,” said Esk grimly. 

“Oh no. Witchcraft is very suitable for helping people through life, of course, but—” 

“I expect women aren’t really sensible enough to be wizards,” said Esk. “I expect that’s it, really.” 

“I have nothing but the highest respect for women,” said Treatle, who hadn’t noticed the fresh edge to Esk’s tone. “They are without parallel when, when—”

“For having babies and so forth?” 

“There is that, yes,” the wizard conceded generously. “But they can be a little unsettling at times. A little too excitable. High magic requires great clarity of thought, you see, and women’s talents do not lie in that direction. Their brains tend to overheat. I am sorry to say there is only one door into wizardry and that is the main gate at Unseen University and no woman has ever passed through it.”

“Tell me,” said Esk, “what good is high magic, exactly?” 

Treatle smiled at her. “High magic, my child,” he said, “can give us everything we want.” 

“Oh.” 

“So put all this wizard nonsense out of your head, all right?” Treatle gave her a benevolent smile. “What is your name, child?” 

“Eskarina.”

“And why do you go to Ankh, my dear?” 

“I thought I might seek my fortune,” muttered Esk, “but I think perhaps girls don’t have fortunes to seek. Are you sure wizards give people what they want?” 

“Of course. That is what high magic is for.” 

“I see.” 

The whole caravan was traveling only a little faster than walking pace. Esk jumped down, pulled the staff from its temporary hiding place among the bags and pails on the side of the wagon, and ran back along the line of carts and animals. Through her tears she caught a glimpse of Simon peering from the back of the wagon, an open book in his hands. He gave her a puzzled smile and started to say something, but she ran on and veered off the track. 

Scrubby whinbushes scratched her legs as she scrambled up a clay bank and then she was running free across a barren plateau, hemmed in by the orange cliffs. She didn’t stop until she was good and lost but the anger still burned brightly. 

She had been angry before, but never like this; normally anger was like the red flame you got when the forge was first lit, all glow and sparks, but this anger was different—it had the bellows behind it, and had narrowed to the tiny blue-white flame that cuts iron. It made her body tingle. She had to do something about it or burst. 

Why was it that when she heard Granny ramble on about witchcraft she longed for the cutting magic of wizardry, but whenever she heard Treatle speak in his high-pitched voice she would fight to the death for witchcraft? 

She’d be both, or none at all. And the more they intended to stop her, the more she wanted it. 

She’d be a witch and a wizard too. And she would show them. 

Equal Rites, Terry Pratchett

[eliyips]

the way u draw xisumas eyes is the most Correct way ive ever seen. congratulations! you've won at xisuma!

Ahhh thank you so much! Over the past week, as I've been obsessively drawing him, I've received a lot of nice comments about my Xisuma design. I am very happy with the design I settled on, and I'm glad other people feel the same! It feels good to know that I've created something which other people can resonate with in the same way that I do.

I'm happy that you think I got the eyes right! When drawing a character like him, covered head to toe in armor, fabric, and equipment, it can be difficult to make their emotions readable to an audience. Fortunately for me, the one part that he doesn't have completely obscured is perhaps the best tool for that job - the eyes and eyebrows!

*slaps roof of eyeball* this bad boy can fit so much fucking emotions in it /ref

I like to tweak my designs with each new drawing I do, never really settling, so the way I draw Xisuma's eyes, as well as the rest of him, has been changing from drawing to drawing. Though, I do have a few traits which I have noticed myself gravitating towards: I tend to have his eyes wide open with small irises, a visible eyelid crease, and some marks below the eyes, indicating tiredness, or dark circles. I am biased towards bushy eyebrows on characters, but for him, I have been doing more thin, defined eyebrows, since I feel they can convey his expressions more clearly. My hope is that those characteristics give the impression of someone who may be tired, but is alert, and probably caffeinated. Or anxious. Or both! I also hope to make him appear kind and approachable, despite the big intimidating helmet and body armor.

I saw a Hermitober drawing of Xisuma on Twitter, by MyraTheFarmer, which was a close-up shot of his visor, showing off his eyes and scars. I really liked it! It stuck with me, and I think I'd like to draw something similar, especially now that I can do digital art again. I tend towards thicker lines, which leave little room for detail in the face, but it'd be a good exercise to break out of that comfort zone, and try a more detailed portrait of him. Maybe painted, even?

Sorry, I know this is probably more of a response than you bargained for :) Turns out I have a lot of thoughts about Xisuma. Who could've guessed, LOL. Thanks again for your message! It made me smile.

[gravity-falls-dreamer]

Part 1

'Just breathe. You're ok.' That voice rang out louder than anything else in the entire multiverse. Floating in an endless void really can give you a lot of time to think. Everything is loud and quiet. Time speeds by but seems so slow at the same time. In the end, everything is how it is supposed to be, and yet, everything can change at a moment's notice. *** "Grunkle Stan! I can't find the scissors!" called out a young woman, age 14. She had long brunette hair held up with a pink scrunchie and a large smile filled with silver that could brighten up anyone's day. She wore an oversized sweater with a large rainbow on the front. This young blossoming woman found a chair to try to climb onto the counter. She has done this stunt more than a few times as her Great Uncle would hide scissors and other dangerous things out of her reach.

"Listen here, Mable. The last time you used the scissors, you cut a hole in my favorite jacket and used it as a poncho!" yelled an elderly man from his chair in the living room. He had a round face with a prominent, slightly bulbous nose and a pair of thick, bushy eyebrows. He looked rather scruffy with a stubbly beard. His shirt was rather dirty and he was probably only wearing underwear beneath his blanket.

"That's only because Dipper had to make it rain frogs all day!" Mable expressed as she entered the living room and threw herself onto a pillow that lay on the floor. A young man with the same features as Mable entered the room. He had much shorter hair covered by a brown fur trapper hat and a more stern look on his face.

"Mable! I told you that had nothing to do with me! The frogs were drawn to the area due to the extreme rise in the summer humidity.... then the gnomes started throwing them..... at us...." Dripper started to trail off with his nose deep in his notebook. Mable murmured.

"Ugh! Come on, Grunkle Stan! I'm so boooored!" she moaned. Stan took a second after taking a sip of his beer.

"Hey, you kids just got here for the summer. Why don't you go into town and say hi to all of your weird little friends or something?" he suggested.

"I mean, I could, but only if my partner in crime will come with me!" Mable said in a sing-song tone, gesturing to Dipper. "WINK."

Dipper thought and shrugged.

"Eh, why not? It would be nice to let everyone know that we're back." He closed his book and put it in his bag before he helped Mable to her feet. "Hey Grunkle Stan, isn't Grunkle Ford suppose to be back tonight sometime?"

"Yeah, Sixer said he was going to try and make it before you two got here but that didn't work out. Don't hold your breath." Stan shooed them off and went back to his show with a grump. "Didn't take me on his little adventure this time because 'the portal was too unstable for both of us to go'. Sounds like a lame excuse to me."

Waddles oinked as a response and curled up at Stan's feet.

The twins made their way to town. They stopped at the diner where Lazy Susan got them a fresh plate of pancakes with a bottle of syrup for each. Of course, they had to race to see whose syrup would drip faster (which ended in a draw) but they both won because they got to shove a whole bunch of pancakes in their faces.

With their bellies full, they made their way into town, where Mayor Tyler Cutebiker was on a podium running his term election speech. Granted, he ran unopposed but it was still pretty common to run the whole election to assure the town that he was still a good candidate. They would ask their questions and of course, he would answer in his special little way.

"Mayor Cutebiker, what are you going to do about the recent rise of unicorn lounging the town park?" one reporter asked.

"Git 'em out of here!" he would respond with his hands up in the air. Everyone clapped in acceptance. Mable just giggled at the idea of unicorns.

"I mean, they could just do what I did and punch the snot out of them," she said with a chuckle. Dipper couldn't help but make a confused face at her. She flashed him a smile with the light reflecting from her braces into his eyes.

"Ahh! Damn it, Mable!" Dipper yelled as he shielded his eyes. With a giggle, Mable threw her arms around her brother's shoulders.

"Come on, Dipper. I have almost mastered the amazing ability of the Mable Flash Smile Attack! See? Watch!" Mable positioned herself just right where the light reflected off her braces, against a metal bench, and into the eyes of a nearby unicorn. The unicorn got upset and ran off, leaving Mabel and Dipper giggling.

"Ok, you are getting good at that," Dipper admitted. They suddenly heard the sound of motorcycles riding up on them. They turned to see a motorcycle painted to look like the American banner driven by a kid wearing a blue biker jacket and a white motorcycle helmet with a dark visor. The motorcycle burned out and stopped its tires right in front of the Pine twins.

"Fancy meeting the likes of you here," the kid said in a Southern accent. The twins gasped.

"Gideon?!" they exclaimed. Gideon slid off his helmet which caused his white hair to poof perfectly into a pompadour. He gave them a smug smirk before he parked his bike.

"You seem so surprised! Mable, my sweet, have you come to this country hick town to see little ol' me?" he said with his best award-winning smile. Mable looked at him in disgust.

"Dude, you ask this every year. The answer is still no. BLURG!" Mable exclaimed while she pretended to throw up. Dipper chuckled as Mable continued to get more and more dramatic.

"You say that now, my sweet, but one day, you will be mine!" He started his bike up and drove off in a rush, leaving the twins coughing in the dust he kicked up.

"Looks like Gideon didn't change at all. I thought he was on tour again," Dipper said as he dusted himself off. "I guess he found that biker gang also."

"Weird that his little stubby legs can reach the ground," Mable responded.

"Are you kidding me? He was barely touching the ground on his tippy toes!" Dipper said before the twins busted out laughing again. Unexpectedly, a large figure towered over them.

"Hey, guys!" The twins turned to see a tall woman with long red hair wearing a plaid shirt and blue jean pants. On her head, she wore a blue and white hat with a blue tree on the front. She had a huge smile as she leaned over to give the twins a huge hug.

"Wendy!" they cried out at the same time as they hugged her in return.

"You look awesome, Wendy!" Mable exclaimed. Dipper felt his face turn red, just like when he was younger. Mable was right; Wendy did look amazing. She filled out into a more adult woman body. Though she looked like she had grown up, her whole demeanor was a different story.

"You guys look like you grew quite a few inches yourself since last year." Wendy patted Dipper on the head. "Still wearing my old hat?"

"You're still wearing mine." Dipper and Wendy gave each other a fist bump before chuckling.

"You're alright, Dipper. Hey, my dad built me a house over the school year because you know, I'm a big adult lady or whatever now. He said, since I've graduated, I need to go live out on my own. Of course, he built my house like right outside of town not too far from him. It's whatever. You guys should come check it out!"

"What do you think, Mable?" Dipper asked, knowing what she was going to say.

"Uh, hell yeah! What kind of question is that?!" she exclaimed. Mable and Dipper followed Wendy out of town and into the woods, not too far off the path to the Mystery Shack. They traveled a while before they made it to a gorgeous wooden cabin.

"Woah, Wendy. This is amazing!" Dipper blurted out.

"It isn't much but I think it's pretty cool. Beats living in town," Wendy smirked. "The gnomes out here keep trying to marry me. They want me to be their queen or something."

"Oh, girl, I feel your pain," Mable interrupted. "They tried to do that to me the first time we came to Gravity Falls. We beat them with a-"

"Leaf blower!" Mable and Wendy said at the same time before bursting out in laughter. Mable laughed so hard, that a tear fell from her eye.

"Well, check out inside!" Wendy said as she led the way.

The cabin was compact but thoughtfully designed to make the most of its space. It was an open-plan layout with a living area that seamlessly flowed into a small dining space and kitchen. There was a plush sofa and an armchair next to a small coffee table adorned with a few small pictures of Wendy's family. She had a few posters of bands she was into and even an old t-shirt she got from some rock concert from 2 years ago hanging on the walls. Of course, there was a pretty little kitchen that had the normal utilities; a sink, microwave, stove, dishwasher, and fridge.

Off to the side was a ladder that led up to the loft above where Wendy slept. They couldn't see up there. The only sign of anything up there at all was a blanket that was hanging down. In the back of the cabin were some doors that led to a spare room and another to a bathroom. The cabin was pretty amazing even for its smaller size.

"Make yourselves at home!" Wendy said as she threw her jacket on the couch. "Just take off your shoes."

That evening was fantastic. They sat around the living room, told each other stories, and caught everyone up to what happened over the school year. Pacifica started a charity for those who were having issues with the aftermath of the Weirdmagaddon. There were people still trying to use the Society of the Blind Eye as a way of avoiding the truth of what they went through instead of trying to work through their problems. Pacifica saw that this method wasn't helping anyone so she decided to find a way to help by funding programs to help people.

Robbie decided to start a band called the Toxic Chaos Theory. Wendy went to a few of his concerts until he started his tour around America. Lee was the guitarist, Nate was the bass player, and Thompson on drums. Tambry worked on being their promotional manager. They seemed to be getting pretty big.

Grenda did keep up with Mable through her many letters. She was sailing the world with Marius on his family yacht. She sent Mable lots of little gifts that she knew Mable would like along with pictures of her and her adventures. Candy, on the other hand, stayed in town. She continued going to school and assisted with the Mystery Shack from time to time after Soos took over.

Before long, the sun started to go down and the twins started getting ready to head back to the Mystery Shack. Wendy gave them both fist bumps and sent them on their way. The sun shined beautifully over the horizon. Off in the distance were birds flying to make nests for the night. Or were they flying eyes? Dipper smiled. He was excited for another summer at the wonderful and mysterious Gravity Falls.

"Dipper, do you see that?" Mabel said as they embarked deeper into the woods. The sun was shining through the trees but Dipper could see it clear as day. There was a blue Port-a-Potty in the middle of a clearing.

"We should go check it out," he said as they got closer. Mabel gave him a disgusted look but followed him anyway. There didn't seem to be anything weird about the Port-a-Potty besides being out in the middle of nowhere. The door wasn't locked so they opened it and took a look inside. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just a toilet and some toilet paper.

"I guess it's out here so the bears can have some privacy," Mabel joked. Dipper stared hard into the stall. He took out his notebook and started jotting things down. It might have been nothing but, in Gravity Falls, anything weird is bound to be around the corner. They closed the door and contemplated for a minute.

Abruptly, the door to the Port-a-Potty locked. It began to shake violently and light radiated from inside. The twins quickly stepped back. Dipper knew exactly what it was.

"Mable! This isn't a Port-a-Potty! This is a Portal Potty!" he shouted over the deafening rumbling. Before he could explain more, the door flew open, and out popped... something. The door slammed shut again and returned to normal.

On the ground, in front of the closed Portal Potty door, was a female. Her long wavy red hair cascaded down her back like a fiery waterfall, each lock shimmering with a deep, lustrous glow. Her long, flowy black dress fluttered slightly in the wind. The dress was made of a soft, almost weightless fabric that catches the light with a subtle sheen. The gown was adorned with intricate, delicate patterns that resembled arcane symbols or celestial motifs, giving it a touch of the mystical. Even though she was beautiful, she was also very very pale and was barely breathing.

"Dipper! We have to save her!" Mable shouted as she ran over to help the woman up. Dipper hesitated for a moment before helping as well. They were able to carry her back to the Mystery Shack. Little did they know, Blendin Blandin teleported to the clearing where they found the woman.

"Oh, geez," he said as he pulled out a strange raygun. "Another Portal Potty? I thought these were all gone by now. Ugh, who am I kidding? My work is never done." With a shot of his raygun, both he and the Portal Potty disappeared with a small flash.

Back at the Mystery Shack, Dipper and Mabel were able to drag the woman inside. They could hear Stan and Ford arguing with each other even before they entered the door.

"Come on, Stanly. You are being unreasonable!" Ford called out to his brother who was still sitting in his chair with his arms crossed. Ford had the same features as Stan, although he had a different look about him though. He looked much wiser like he had been through some things. His glasses were also different being rounder with a small crack in the lens.

"I'm unreasonable!?" Stan bellowed back. "Dude! You left me behind! AGAIN!"

"Stan, I was only gone for 2 days. I told you! The portal wasn't going to be stable enough for the both of us!" Ford tried to reason.

"Then you shouldn't have gone at all!" Stan yelled. Before Ford could answer his distressed twin, Dipper and Mabel kicked in the door.

"Grunkle Stan! Grunkle Ford! She needs help!" the twins hollered at the same time. The whole energy shifted in the room. Stan jumped up as he and Ford ran over. Ford began to evaluate the situation as Stan sat the woman up.

Ford flashed his penlight into her eye to see if there was any light stimulation. Her eyes, a striking shade of emerald green, were mesmerizing and intense. They seemed to capture and reflect the light in a way that made them appear almost otherworldly. Thankfully, her eyes were able to respond to the penlight even though the woman herself was not reacting.

"She's ok. Looks like she just passed out. Stan, let's get her over to the couch," Ford instructed. Stan lifted the woman with ease and placed her gently on the sofa. Ford turned to the kids. "Where in the world did you find her?"

"She popped out of one of those Portal Potty things!" Mabel blurted out. Ford's eyebrows lifted so high they looked like they were about to fly off his face. "Portal Potty?! Kids! Take me to it!" Ford shouted as he and the twins ran out the door. They ran deep into the woods and to the clearing. However, when they arrived, the clearing was empty. The grass where the Portal Potty was had been flattened so there was still proof that it was there in the first place.

"But it was right here!" Dipper exclaimed in confusion.

"Damn it," Ford slipped under his breath. "Looks like they picked it up before I could get to it. Come on, kids. Let's go check on our new friend and see if she is awake."

They returned to the shack to see that the woman was just coming to her senses. She groaned as she put her hand over her eye. There was a pendant around her neck that they didn't notice before. It glowed faintly with a mystical aura. She also wore shining rings on her slender fingers. Though she was still very pale, life began to rise in her once again.

"Wh- where am I?" she stuttered as she tried to get her bearings. When her vision came to, she jumped at the sight of everyone. "Ah! Wh- who are all y- you?! What do y- you want of m- me?!"

"Calm down," Ford responded in a soothing tone with his hands out. "You are safe. This is the Mystery Shack. My name is Stanford Pines. This is my brother, Stanly Pines, and over here is Dipper and Mabel."

In a panic state, the woman saw Waddles who was interested in the situation as if she were food. She quickly picked him up and held him close, full of fear. She seemed to be shaking, hiding behind the pig. Waddles, who doesn't usually do very well in high-stress situations, just sniffed her and licked her forehead.

"P-please don't hurt me!" she whimpered. Ford put out his hand as a gesture of goodwill. The woman looked at his hand to see 6 fingers reaching out for her. Though this oddity would usually freak others out, it seemed to have calmed her down a bit.

"Please, tell us your name," Ford requested. The woman looked up at him before answering.

"M- my name is Evalin Dreamer," she answered with a slight head bow. Everyone else seemed to let out a small sigh of relief.

"Evalin, do you remember anything of what just happened?" Ford questioned. Evalin tried to respond before a sharp pain struck through her head which made her yelp out in pain.

"Grunkle Ford, I think she needs to rest," Mabel said as she put his hand around the frail woman. "Maybe you can try and question her in the morning or something."

"You're right. My apologies," Ford responded.

"Hey, Dipper. Go clean out the storage room or something for our visitor here," Stan commanded. Dipper ran off with Mabel following after him to assist. Ford left the room for a moment before he returned with a glass of water. Evalin quickly gulped down every drop. Ford couldn't help but get a closer look at the symbols on Evalin's dress which made Evalin uncomfortable fast. She quickly pulled her dress away.

"D- do you mind?" she voiced. Ford was taken aback.

"Oh, um, sorry about that," he replied flustered as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Come on, brother. Can't you see she isn't all there yet?" Stan barked. "Kids! Is the room ready yet!?"

"Putting on the final touches!" Mabel yelled back. Stan heaved up Evalin before he carried her to the storage room. She couldn't help but become a little flustered over being carried like that. It looked like all of the items that were in the storage room were placed haphazardly in the hallway with a small path to just squeeze through. The room itself was emptied for the most part. There was a mattress on the floor with lots of pillows and blankets. String lights shined above the room like twinkling little stars. Stan placed Evalin down on the mattress for her to rest.

"Th- thank you," she stated, still shaking. Mabel flashed her a smile.

"Hey, don't worry! Get some rest!" she said reassuringly. "Don't think about the strangers in the woods that have dragged you to their home. You're safe here!"

"Mabel!" Dipper snapped as he elbowed her in the side. "Don't say shit like that!"

"Oh, right. Well, good night! Sleep tight! Don't let the bed bugs bite!" she said in a sing-song tone.

"Yeah, seriously, don't let them bite you. They hurt like hell," Stan responded before he shut the door.

Evalin lay on the bed with her arms stretched out. She placed her hat beside her before she covered herself with the blanket and started to cry. Everything seemed to be so overwhelming. Her head still hurt and a pain grew in her chest. She wasn't sure what was going on or even what happened to her earlier that day. Thoughts ran through her head so quickly that rest didn't seem like an option. However, her body had other things in mind. As soon as she closed her eyes, she fell into a deep sleep.

[a-most-beloved-fool]

it's the wee hours of the night and i couldn't remember a specific turn of phrase common in victorian literature so i, smartly, decided to google it. and found this helpful (sarcasm) article about phrases in victorian novels!

I'm going to be honest with you: I think the person who wrote that is one of the people who thinks that a character growling dialogue means that the character growled like a dog.

“Her complexion was clear and pale; her eyes I could not see, for, being bent upon her prayer-book, they were concealed by their drooping lids and long black lashes, but the brows above were expressive and well defined; the forehead was lofty and intellectual…” So, she has clear skin? If her eyebrows are expressive, I guess that means she uses them a lot when she talks? I hope not too much, because then she would look insane. I suppose well-defined just means not bushy, neat, and orderly. If your forehead is lofty, is it just really high up on your face? Does that mean it’s small or large? Or does it mean you have a high hairline? As for the second part, what does someone with an intellectual forehead look like? Beats me. How can your forehead be intellectual? What kind of forehead does an intellectual have? Basically, I have no idea what this forehead looks like.

Have you not read before?? Are you entirely unfamiliar with how language has historically been used?? And you're writing articles about it????? You're telling me you've never seen eyebrows described as 'expressive' before? Man, you wouldn't last a day in the Star Trek fandom. You'd hear how we talk about Spock and McCoy's eyebrows and immediately keel over.

“He was young — perhaps from twenty-eight to thirty — tall, slender; his face riveted the eye; it was like a Greek face, very pure in outline…” His face was pure in outline? How can the outline of someone’s face be impure? If their skin is rough or wrinkly? Basically this is just a terrible way of saying his face looks perfect.

“His features were regular, but too relaxed…” So… he’s too chill?

You are so unserious. What are you talking about. How did you get this job.

“But no sooner had he made it clear to himself and his friends that she hardly had a good feature in her face, than he began to find it was rendered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes.” Explain to me how someone’s eyes can make their face seem smart.

That is literally a normal way to describe things. I promise. It's Normal. It's common, even.

(disclaimer: You cannot actually tell intelligence based on eyes. You can't. I promise. It still remains a common way to describe them, for good or for ill.)

Here’s a good rule of thumb: if you read a character description and can’t picture the character in your head, you’ve just been subjected to some terrible and undescriptive Victorian novel character description.

What do you want?? Is it My Immortal style character description??? "My name is Fitzwilliam Darcy Esquire, and I have pale white skin and raven dark hair. I look a little like Matthew Macfadyen (an: if u dont kno who that is, get da heck outta here!!!!1!)"

i don't know how to write like my immortal. i tried, lmao

Also, like, authors Do Not Need to describe every aspect of their character's appearance for you. In fact, I'd argue that they shouldn't. Use your fucking imagination, maybe??

[maiji]

Reverse-engineering Hokushin and Otake

I am very very close to finishing part 3 of fight / flight! So close…!! I decided to take a break with what was supposed to be a quick drawing but ended up going down reference rabbit holes oops. This is modern day (actual Yu Yu Hakusho series canon) Hokushin and Otake alongside my imagined early Kamakura-era versions of them in North Bound.

More commentary below the cut.

To figure out their relative heights, it was the usual game of Measuring Stick Yusuke, i.e., relying on the fact that every single character at some point has stood next to Yusuke, or next to someone who has stood next to Yusuke. In this case:

Hokushin is a head taller than Yusuke.

Otake is about half a head taller than adult Koenma.

Adult Koenma is half a head taller than Yusuke.

Therefore, Otake is about half a head taller than Hokushin. Success!!***

This is assuming nobody changed in height between 700 years ago and now lmao

(*** EDIT: I reread this post and was like, wait, what I wrote doesn't make sense. Measuring stick logic outlined above actually indicates that Hokushin and Otake would be about the same height lol. My logic failed. However, I went back to doublecheck my notes and the manga panels and "Otake is about half a head taller than adult Koenma" is little more than guesswork because they spend most of the time crouched next to each other and leaning slightly forward, so he could be anywhere from the same height to even a head taller. Ehhhhhh close enough. Again, 700 years, who's counting.)

Reverse engineering character designs to different ages/periods is always a fun exercise. Aside from new clothes, one of the easiest and most obvious things to do is to change up their hair! Super easy for these two. Give Hokushin hair, and shave Otake’s mustache off and give him a closer-to-period hairstyle instead of his Western-style cut. Done! But of course, a challenge is that for most visual storytelling purposes, you still need the character to be quickly recognizable.

To me, the really distinguishing aspect of Hokushin and Otake is how Togashi renders their eyes. This is where I find it particularly interesting, because both of them have very fixed eye styles. I personally struggle a lot with making them more expressive without feeling like I’m going super off-model. I have a lot more flexibility with Hokushin now because I’ve drawn him about a bajillion times, and through North Bound I’ve stretched the comfort level of how I can depict him. This is only Otake’s second appearance in North Bound (though it feels like a lot more because it’s taking me a while to draw all these parts of a story), so it’s been more challenging. Page 7 in fight / flight part 1 was difficult in terms of making him look intense. You can see what happens if I tried too hard to convey intensity with his eyes by checking out the sketch of the page - it doesn’t look like him anymore. (Sometimes that can work though, for drama especially when conveying something going off the wall and pushing their limits or shocking others with an about-face.)

Working through their designs allowed me to reflect on the parallels in their design and nature. Hokushin and Otake are both envoys of sorts for extremely ancient and powerful non-human masters, and naturally bring a lot of visual gravitas to that role. Neither of them are the sort of people who’re here to just chill and hang out, and their visual appearance and presence need to convey that.

Hokushin I’ve talked about before. Togashi draws him with these really low eyebrows and flat, dark eyes that almost never shift. This makes him look very serious, to the point of glowering. But through the magic of characterization, context and other little facial details, he feels a lot “softer” - friendlier and more approachable. On the flipside, Otake has very thick bushy eyebrows and beady eyes. His eyebrows are definitely much more mobile than Hokushin’s in the manga, and the styling has the potential of coming off almost comedic, but we never get that impression from him unless Togashi is actually drawing him in a situation where we’re intended to laugh at him (e.g., his reactions to Yusuke pretending to turn into an evil demon). Instead, he feels really serious - much more rigid and inflexible than Hokushin.

Part of this is due to reader perspective as well. Hokushin is a demon who eats humans, which is typically terrifying nightmare material. Otake, on the flipside, is the head of the Spirit World’s Special Defence Force, sent out to save the Human World and also stop a powerful demon from awakening, which sounds like a classic hero. But of course, Togashi has flipped them on their heads, at the most basic level simply by sheer virtue of their associations. Yusuke is the protagonist we’ve followed since volume 1; by the time we get to volume 16, we know him very well and have been rooting for him for all these pages. We can quickly recognize and identify his struggles even in challenging situations. Thus, Otake intent on killing Yusuke (permanently) makes us quick to judge him as villainous - or at the very least on the “wrong” side. Meanwhile, Hokushin appearing in Yusuke’s court, understanding Yusuke’s concerns and even giving answers that clearly align him with Yusuke’s values, immediately develops more benign associations. It’s interesting to compare and contrast them!