#so the next update will be this upcoming tuesday

[ghosttotheparty]

a mess of holy things 13 also on ao3 // prev // next cw: brief meltdown; subdrop/panic attack during sex; death of guardian (not wayne don’t worry); grief; mentions of child abuse & childhood trauma

“No, I’m just saying you’re turning into a slut,” Robin says lightly, her voice garbled from the gummy bear between her teeth as she tears its head off. She’s laying on her bed with her legs up against the wall, her hair spread around her head.

Steve rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, I know.”

“How many times have you had sex now?” she asks, rolling her head to look at him, nibbling at the body of the gummy bear now. He shrugs.

“I don’t know. A few.”

She raises her eyebrows.

He raises his back.

“Is it good?” Robin asks lightly, reaching back to the bag of gummy bears that’s resting on her belly. “You’re not getting bored of it?”

Steve scoffs, his head falling back against the wall.

“God, no. Don’t think I could get bored of it.”

She hums for a moment, looking at the ceiling.

“Maybe the guy I was with was just really bad,” she says thoughtfully, and Steve lets out a laugh. “Because it was real boring.”

“Have you considered having sex with a woman?” Steve questions sarcastically.

“Oh, yes, I have,” she says. Steve giggles, reaching over to take some gummy bears. “I just need a woman that also wants to have sex with me.”

“Hm.”

They’re quiet for a moment, and Steve thinks. He doesn’t know very many women.

“Is Nancy dating Jonathan?” he wonders aloud abruptly. “Or like…”

“Honestly, I have no idea,” Robin says. “I keep thinking she’s dating Jonathan, but then Argyle will come over and kiss her to say hi, and then Nancy wears one of Jonathan’s shirts but she’s got Argyle hair ties around her wrist… I don’t know.”

“You don’t wanna just ask?”

“Eh.” She shrugs. “Not really a big deal. They’re all happy, you know?”

Steve hums and looks at the ceiling again. He thinks some more. Maybe Chrissy is single.

They’d like each other, he thinks. They’re both silly, funny in their own ways, and they don’t really match exactly, Robin’s rough flannels and mismatched socks and choppy hair that she cut with scissors in her own bathroom compared to Chrissy’s frilly blouses and manicured nails and pink lipstick. But Steve has a feeling they’d like each other.

“Do your parents know about you?” he asks after a moment. She’s quiet.

“Yeah.”

He looks at her. She isn’t eating the gummy bears anymore, but she’s holding one in her fingers, squeezing and squishing it, brushing it against her lips absently.

“How did that go?” he asks quietly.

She sighs heavily, clearing her throat.

“Uh…” Another exhale. “I don’t know. I just told them at dinner one night. Kinda randomly, I just… couldn’t keep it hidden anymore.”

“What did they say?”

Robin looks at the ceiling blankly.

“‘…Don’t tell Grandma.’”

Steve blinks, waiting for her to continue, but she just lifts the gummy bear to her mouth and tears its head off with her teeth.

“That’s it?”

“Mhmm.” She takes another breath. “We don’t talk about it. It just kinda hangs out with us, I guess.”

He looks across the room and thinks some more. About what it might be like if his parents knew. If the fact just dangled around their heads, unaddressed, ignored. If they could do that, just ignore what they would surely despise.

“Are you gonna tell your parents?” Robin asks softly, like she can read his fucking mind. He scoffs.

“I don’t know,” he mutters. “Don’t know if it’s worth it.”

She looks at him, lifting her chin to see him.

“They won’t understand,” he says quietly. “They won’t get it.”

She sits up. Swings her legs around to rest across his lap, letting the gummy bears fall to the side. She’s looking at him curiously, silently.

Steve sighs, letting his head fall to the wall.

“…They raised me to be God-fearing,” he says quietly. “And… pure. They raised me so, like, intentionally… good. And if I tell them, I…” Steve scoffs, laughing humourlessly. “‘Hey, by the way, I’m an atheist and I like it when my metalhead boyfriend shoves his cock up my ass and puts his fingers down my throat.’”

Robin lets out a laugh, and he half-smiles.

“They don’t have to know all of that.”

“That’s all they will know, though,” he says weakly, his smile falling. She looks at him in confusion, furrowing her eyebrows, frowning. He sighs.

“They view homosexuality as… disgusting,” he says after a moment. “It’s just sexual to them. It’s just sin on sin.”

His fingers twist together, and then he reaches for the cross around his neck, lifting it to touch his lips absently.

“If I say I have a boyfriend…” He pauses, his voice weak and soft. “They won’t think about us holding hands or teasing each other or being sweet with each other. They won’t think about…” He cuts off, his throat tightening. “About how he wipes my tears away like he’s scared he’ll break me. Or the way he pulls me closer even when he’s, like, fully asleep. Or the way he cooks for me when I mention I haven’t eaten, or the way he kisses my temples when I have a headache.”

He looks at the ceiling, blinking tears back rapidly when his eyes sting. Robin reaches and holds his forearm.

“They’ll think about us sinning,” he says weakly. “They’ll think about— about him corrupting me, or manipulating me, and— and it’s bullshit, because he hasn’t. He’s— He’s so great.”

“He sounds really great,” Robin says, and her voice sounds thick now, and he hates this, this bullshit that unites the two of them.

“They’ll never see how great he is,” Steve says heavily. Robin’s hand is warm on his arm. “They’ll never get it. They’ll take one look at him and do the fucking Sign of the Cross. I don’t…”

He sighs again, reaching over to take her hand, twisting their fingers together.

“If I tell them… I don’t know what they’ll do. But I think… I don’t know. If the love they have for me is worth keeping. You know?”

She nods. Sighs. Squeezes his arm.

“It sucks,” he says softly, whispering. “Knowing your parents don’t love you the way you want.”

He glances at her when he hears a sniffle, and there’s a tear falling down her cheek. He wipes it away, but she doesn’t seem to notice, her eyes downcast and glassy.

“It sucks,” she says, her voice breaking a little bit. “My own parents don’t love me. Don’t know who can.”

It sends a shard of glass through Steve’s chest. That Robin fucking Buckley can’t see how loveable she is, how precious. How amazing and perfect, and…

“I can,” Steve says quietly.

She looks at him, her eyes shining, gleaming, her lips pursed like she’s trying to stop them from quivering.

“…Really?”

He nods, tilting his head at her.

“You’re my best friend,” he says softly. “You’re so cool.”

She scoffs, sniffling, and her hand tightens on his, squeezing his fingers. Her eyes close, and another tear falls down her cheek, and then Steve’s eyes are burning, and he tugs her closer by her hand.

Their arms wrap around each other, and Steve squeezes his eyes shut, burying his face in her neck. Her shoulders shake when she sobs quietly, and he runs a hand down her back, over the wrinkles in her sweater.

And he feels kind of like he did when Eddie first started being sweet on him, touching him lightly, calling him pet names. It’s different with Robin, of course. Still warm. Familiar. Entirely platonic but somehow more.

They stay there together, arms around each other, legs tangled, as they talk. Robin tells him about every girl she’s ever had a crush on. Steve runs his hand through her hair until it’s untangled as he listens, feeling the way her jaw shifts as she talks and chews the gummy bears. The sun sets outside, the sky dimming, and neither of them moves except to flick on the lamp on Robin’s bedside.

It’s warm here. Safe. Steve lets himself exist quietly with Robin, lets himself become sleepy and giggly and a little bit childish, because she’s doing the same, wrapped in a blanket and rocking back and forth as they laugh about nothing. He thinks that even if their parents can’t love them properly, maybe it doesn’t really matter at the moment. It doesn’t really matter if they have each other.

─────────────────

Steve wakes up before the sun rises.

It’s Saturday. Eddie had been working at the Hideout, but he’s in bed now, hair damp from his shower, eyes closed peacefully. Steve looks at him in the dark, rolling onto his side to face him.

He hadn’t woken up when Eddie came back after work. Eddie must have been as quiet as possible, taking off his jacket and setting his keys down, getting fresh clothes and taking a shower, all while Steve slept peacefully in bed. He isn’t even touching Steve right now. There’s a space between them, a chasm that makes Steve ache.

He pauses, looking at Eddie. At the fan of his eyelashes across his pale cheeks, at the metal studs in his skin. At his cheek that’s squished against his hand, tucked between his face and his pillow. At the strands of hair on his skin.

“Eddie,” Steve whispers softly, hesitantly. He doesn’t expect a response, but Eddie’s eyes flutter open slowly after a moment, and he looks at Steve blearily, tiredly, his eyes not quite all the way open.

“Hm?” Eddie shifts, closing his eyes for a moment before he blinks them open again. “You okay?”

“Mhmm.” Steve gazes at him. “Missed you.”

Eddie smiles sleepily, humming, lifting his chin a little bit, and Steve moves closer, close enough that their noses nudge together. Eddie exhales slowly, and Steve thinks for a moment that he’s fallen back asleep, but his arm moves, sliding from between them to wrap around Steve’s waist. His hand presses into the small of his back, and he tugs him closer.

Steve kisses him, smiling, tucking his hands between them, shrinking against Eddie’s body as their lips part. Eddie hums again, fingers spreading over Steve’s back.

“Sweet baby,” Eddie murmurs when they separate, his lips brushing Steve’s. Steve smiles again, his cheeks flushing with warmth. He sighs, nuzzling into Eddie’s throat as Eddie rubs his back once more.

He could whisper it right now. Right here. Lips pressed to Eddie’s tattooed skin, Eddie’s heartbeat against his hands.

He doesn’t say anything.

─────────────────

Steve sits on the sofa while Eddie finishes putting away the groceries.

He’d cried in the grocery store. He doesn’t know why.

His cheeks are still tacky with tears, and he feels fucking exhausted for no reason at all. All he’s done today is go with Eddie to the grocery store, and he’d managed to ignore the way the overhead lights buzzed and made his head ache, the way the squeaky wheels of other peoples’ carts scratched at the inside of his skull. Until someone passing bumped into him, their shoulders knocking together, and he just burst into tears like a child.

Eddie almost dropped their basket, setting it down and quickly, gently, pulling Steve aside, his voice hushed as he asked what was wrong, what happened, but Steve didn’t have an answer. Nothing happened. Nothing was wrong. He was just crying.

Eddie gave him the keys to wait in the van while he finished up shopping, and Steve took them quietly. He’s been quiet since. Stared out the window in the car as Eddie drove, only tearing his glassy eyes away from the world going by when Eddie’s hand landed on his thigh gently, squeezing and holding him.

Steve squeezes his eyes shut as they start to sting again, his head falling to the back of the sofa. He’s tucked into himself, arms crossed over his belly, knees drawn up, and he listens to Eddie in the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets, balling up plastic bags and stuffing them into a drawer.

It goes quiet after a few minutes. And then the couch shifts as Eddie sits next to Steve carefully.

“Hey, baby.”

Steve opens his eyes and looks at him, rolling his head, before he lifts his head.

“Hi,” he says softly, whispering.

“What’s goin’ on?” Eddie asks gently, leaning against the back of the sofa. Steve looks away, across the room, shrugging. “Did something happen?”

“No,” Steve chokes, eyes watering again. “I just…” He shrugs, sniffling. “Feel like shit today. I don’t know.”

“What do you need?” Eddie asks softly.

Steve is quiet, shrugging again, and Eddie just waits for him.

“…Hold me.”

Eddie moves without hesitation, wrapping his arms around him tightly, pulling him close and running his hand over his head carefully. Steve falls against him, squeezing his eyes shut again. His breath shudders. Eddie hushes him gently.

“Breathe for me,” he whispers softly. “Nice and slow, baby, you got it.”

Steve takes a deep breath, reaching to cling to Eddie’s shirt, and Eddie’s arms tighten around him, his hands pressing to him firmly before one of them slides into his hair and tugs.

Steve sags against Eddie, exhaling sharply.

“Harder.”

Eddie’s fingers twist into his hair and pull so it hurts. Steve exhales again.

“There you go,” Eddie murmurs. “That’s it, baby.”

Steve whines weakly, face burning as he buries his face in Eddie’s neck, but Eddie just holds him. Pulls his hair. Rubs his back.

“Just want you to touch me,” Steve says when he can speak again, whispering.

“You wanna get off?”

Steve pauses. And then shakes his head.

“Just want your hands on me.”

“C’mere.”

He pulls Steve closer, shifting to sit sideways on the sofa, legs outstretched, and Steve lets him manhandle him gently, lets him pull him so he’s laying on his chest, their legs entwined.

“There we go,” Eddie murmurs. His hands run over Steve’s back gently, tracing his spine. “Good?”

Steve hums, nuzzling into his neck, hands tucked against his chest.

“Harder,” he says softly.

Eddie’s hands press more firmly, pushing Steve against him, and Steve bites his lips to stifle a groan.

“Let it out,” Eddie murmurs. “‘S okay.”

Steve whimpers weakly, pressing closer as Eddie’s hands squeeze his hips firmly. It hurts a little, but Steve likes it. It makes his mind go a little fuzzy, makes whatever is squeezing his chest so tight a little looser. He hums.

“That’s okay?” Eddie checks after a moment, his hands loosening. Steve nods, reaching back to find Eddie’s hand blindly, and he leads it down to his ass, pressing firmly. “Right here?”

Steve nods again.

“Please.”

Eddie kisses the side of his head, and his hands are strong as they press into Steve’s flesh through the fabric of his pants. Squeezing and pushing and gripping like he’s massaging his ass and his thighs, and Steve melts against him, brows furrowed as he focuses on the feeling of Eddie’s fingers on him. He presses his hand to Eddie’s chest and then slides it up to his neck, pressing against his pulse.

“Feel good?” Eddie asks softly. Steve nods.

“‘S, like… grounding,” he mumbles, his hand falling lax on Eddie’s neck loosely. “Like it.”

Eddie hums quietly, his voice rumbling above Steve’s head.

“Bet you’re having fun,” Steve mumbles after a moment, and Eddie scoffs, a sound that makes Steve smile.

“I definitely am.”

His hands squeezes again, and then one of them lifts and taps Steve’s ass lightly, absently, but Steve fucking lights up inside. He hums, his back arching.

“Yeah?” Eddie says, sounding a little surprised.

“Mm. Yeah. Please.”

Eddie laughs softly, doing it again.

“You want me to spank you, baby?”

Steve nods desperately, back arching again.

“Please.”

Eddie kisses his head again, his fingers tightening on his ass, squeezing hard.

“You’re so sweet.”

Steve nods absently, letting out a weak yelp when Eddie’s hand lands on his ass abruptly, hard.

“Color?”

“Green. Again. Please.”

“I got you, baby.”

He does it again. And then again. Alternating hands, rubbing and soothing in between slaps, and they’re both hard, but Steve doesn’t think it really matters. He feels like he might fucking fall asleep here, despite Eddie’s hands forcing feeling into him, despite the way particularly hard hits jostle him.

“Okay?” Eddie asks after a few minutes, hands rubbing over where Steve’s ass is blooming with warmth.

“Please don’t stop,” Steve mumbles weakly, sleepily. “Feels so good.”

Eddie’s hands squeeze tightly. And then one retreats before it slides under Steve’s pants, pressing to his bare skin. Steve whines, nodding before Eddie can ask.

Eddie pushes his pants down carefully, smoothing his hands over Steve’s ass.

“Color,” he says softly, whispering.

“Green.”

“‘S gonna hurt more without fabric in the way.”

“I know,” Steve mumbles. “‘S okay, I want it.”

“Tell me why first.”

Steve exhales sharply, swallowing the lump that’s formed in his throat, and he takes a slow breath.

“Just…” He pauses, pressing his cheek to Eddie’s shoulder, gazing at the bat’s wing around his neck. “Wanna feel it.”

“Why?” Eddie whispers.

“Need it,” Steve says, almost whining. “Need to feel it. When we were in the— the grocery store, there was too much,” he says, his voice softening. “The lights, and the noises, and my— my jacket, and the guy bumping into me, it was just… too much. When it hurts, just— just a little, I can feel it. ‘N I don’t have to feel anything else.”

“Baby,” Eddie breathes.

His hand lands on Steve’s ass with a sharp slap, and Steve jumps with a startled Oh!

Eddie’s hand smooths over the skin gently, squeezing and soothing, and Steve nods, breathless.

The skin of his ass feels hot when Eddie finally stops, rubbing his hips and sliding a hand under his shirt to press into the small of his back. Steve is shaking a little bit, breathing hard into Eddie’s neck, fists clenched in the fabric of his shirt.

“Okay?”

Steve nods, letting out a weak whine.

“Thank you,” he says breathlessly. Eddie turns his head to kiss his temple, humming softly.

“Of course, baby,” he whispers. “You know I’d give you anything.”

Steve nods again, smiling.

Eddie starts to pull Steve’s pants back up, but the fabric scrapes over his no doubt reddened skin, and Steve hisses, wincing. Eddie lets out a thoughtful noise before he holds Steve’s waist, pushing him to the side carefully.

“Stay here a moment,” he says, shifting to get up so Steve can lay on his front on the sofa. Steve groans, reaching for him half-heartedly as he stands, and Eddie laughs lightly, catching his hand and bending down to press a kiss to his knuckles.

He comes back with a bottle of lotion, and he sits on the edge of the sofa next to Steve’s legs. Steve closes his eyes and sighs as he listens to the click of the bottle before Eddie's hand, cold with lotion, smooths over the hot skin. Steve’s breath catches in his throat, and he hums.

“So beautiful,” Eddie murmurs, leaning to press a gentle kiss to his ass. “My perfect boy.”

He pulls Steve’s pants up carefully, slowly, tugging them so they don’t slide over his skin, and he smooths out the waistband of his underwear by tucking his fingers under it and running them along the elastic.

“Maybe we need to get you some silky panties so it doesn’t hurt.”

Steve giggles into the sofa, cheeks warm.

“Could be cute.”

“It would be very cute,” Eddie says lightly. He smooths his hand over Steve’s ass gently, tenderly. “You feel okay?”

“Mhmm.” Steve sighs. “C’mere.”

Eddie moves back onto the sofa and Steve shifts to give him space, settling with his head on Eddie’s chest. Eddie runs his hands through his hair and then over his back, more gently than before.

“Wanna stay here for a little while?” Eddie asks softly. “And then I can go start lunch?”

Steve nods, sighing.

“Yes please.”

Eddie kisses the top of his head, and Steve suppresses a smile, sliding a hand down to slip it under the hem of Eddie’s shirt. Eddie hisses a little when his cold fingertips find his skin, and Steve snickers.

“Sorry.”

“I don’t think you are.”

“Mm.”

Eddie plays with his hair. He breathes.

Steve likes it when he breathes. Which is probably the most insane thing he’s ever thought to himself, but it’s true. It’s almost reassuring to hear Eddie’s breath, to feel the rise and fall of his chest. Steve wishes he could listen to it all the time, wishes it could play on repeat in the back of his mind. He wishes it was possible to get a sound tattooed.

“Do you wanna go out this weekend?” Eddie asks abruptly.

“…Out?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, and he sounds shy all of a sudden, like he’s nervous. “Like— Like on a date.”

Steve lifts his head, looking down at him. Eddie’s cheeks are pink.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says again, glancing away, taking a breath. “I just… I just realized we’ve never actually been on a date, and…” He looks up at Steve, his tongue flashing over his bottom lip. “I know a place that’s… that’s, like, queer friendly.”

Steve blinks, smiling slowly.

“…Really?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie smiles, tilting his head at him like he’s fond, like Steve is a cute puppy or something.

“You wanna go out with me?” he asks lightly. Steve suppresses his smile but he can’t, and it grows into a bright grin, and it’s the first time he’s actually smiled all day. Eddie’s eyes drop to his mouth, his expression lighting up like he’s realizing it too.

“Yes,” Steve says, shifting to lay on top of Eddie’s body, their legs entwined, their chests pressing, and Steve’s heart feels like it’s beating harder, like it’s trying to reach Eddie’s through their skin and the fabric of their shirts. “I wanna go out with you.”

Eddie suppresses his own smile.

“Okay.”

He lays back down, kissing Eddie jaw and then his neck, biting teasingly when Eddie’s hand tugs at his hair.

The date is on Friday. They go to a diner that’s just outside the city, on the corner of a block in a colorful neighborhood. Eddie parks the van out front as Steve looks at the building, at the glowing OPEN sign in the window. It looks quiet, a little bit empty; there are a few people sitting at the bar, sipping from white mugs and looking at newspapers and notebooks, and there are two women sitting behind one of the windows, across from each other, laughing. There’s a pink triangle on the entry door.

Eddie holds the door open for Steve, tilting his head politely as Steve passes by him with a suppressed smile, and the woman behind the counter glances up at them when the bell above the door dings cheerfully. Eddie’s hand takes Steve’s, lacing their fingers and pulling to lead him to a booth in the back.

They sit across from each other after taking off their jackets, and Steve looks around again. There are flashes of color everywhere he looks even though it’s mostly brown inside; the seats of the booths are a muted teal, and there are glowing neon signs on one of the walls, reading things like girls girls girls and soups & sandwiches. There are gumball machines and a pinball machine and there’s bunting draping in the air over the door to the kitchen. It’s made up of small American flags, but when Steve looks a little closer he realizes the flags are upside down.

When Steve looks at Eddie again, he’s resting his chin on his hand, watching Steve with a small smile.

“Hi,” Steve says shyly, leaning over the table to look at him, mirroring him with his chin on his hand.

“Hi,” Eddie says softly. “What do you think?”

Steve glances around again.

“‘S nice,” he says before hesitating for a brief moment. “You don’t think they’ll mind that…”

“That they’ve got queers for patrons?”

Steve scoffs.

“Yeah.”

“Nah,” Eddie says softly. “They don’t mind.” He looks past Steve, hesitating before he gestures with a tilting his head. “See those ladies over there?”

Steve looks over his shoulder at the women sitting by the window. They’re holding hands across the table, and their ankles are locked, and Steve can only see one of their faces from where he’s sitting, but she’s beaming so brightly it’s like she’s reflecting the other woman’s expression.

“Oh,” he says softly.

“Yeah.”

Steve looks at Eddie again, biting his lip, and he crosses his arms over the top of the table, hiding his hands. His eyes scan Eddie’s content smile, his hands resting on the tabletop and holding his chin. Steve starts to pull his hand out from where it’s tucked against himself but he stops, hesitating, his stomach flipping. Eddie’s smile grows.

“Go ‘head,” he says softly.

Steve suppresses a smile, biting his lip again as he pulls his hand away and reaches across the table, grabbing Eddie’s and pulling it toward himself. Eddie bites back a laugh, amused. Their fingers twist until Steve is holding onto Eddie’s middle and ring fingers, holding them loosely before he squeezes absently, nervously. Eddie brushes his thumb over Steve’s fingers gently. Steve looks away.

“Hiya, boys.”

Steve jumps at the sound of the waitress’s voice, looking up as she approaches their table and sets two menus in front of them. He starts to pull his hand away, but Eddie squeezes, tugging it back in place.

“Can I get you started with any drinks?” she asks lightly. She’s smiling at them, like she doesn’t even see them holding hands.

“Uh,” Eddie says, looking at Steve with raised eyebrows.

“Do— Do you have orange soda?” Steve asks, looking up at her again, and she nods before looking at Eddie.

“Ginger ale.”

She nods.

Steve exhales as she walks away, her ponytail swinging behind her, her shoes clicking on the floor, and Eddie squeezes his hand again.

“Hey,” he says softly, and Steve looks at him. “We’re okay.”

Steve nods, taking a deep breath, squeezing his hand.

“We’re okay.”

They only let go of each other’s hands when their food comes, and Eddie immediately kicks at Steve’s feet to prompt him to move them forward so they can lock their ankles together. Steve feels like he’s thirteen or something, his cheeks flushed with heat because his crush is touching him. It’s ridiculous. But Eddie keeps grinning at him across the table like he knows.

They get pie to share. It’s stupid. Almost embarrassing, especially when Eddie grabs a paper napkin and reaches over to wipe Steve’s chin himself. Steve rolls his eyes and snatches it from him as Eddie giggles. His lips are stained red.

Steve is fucking obsessed with him.

He clings to Eddie’s arm as they leave, no longer scared of being seen, almost wanting it now. Wanting people to look over their mugs and hovering forks to see these two boys, these two men, fingers laced, cheeks warm. Wanting people to see exactly how Steve feels, exactly how his heart beats in time with Eddie’s, how his veins are twisted and tangled in the shape of Eddie’s name.

Eddie holds his hand in the car. Steve can barely tear his eyes away from him, gazing at the side of his face, at the lines in his skin that deepen when he smiles after glancing back at Steve.

“What is it?” he asks, his voice light as he slows at a stop sign and looks both ways, leaning to see past Steve.

Steve shrugs even though he isn’t looking at him.

“I really like you.”

His voice is small.

Eddie’s smile widens.

“I really like you too, baby.”

Steve squeezes his hand, grinning, and he sighs heavily, waiting. Eddie pulls his hand away from Steve’s to turn the van into the parking lot outside his building, and Steve whines petulantly, which just makes Eddie laugh.

“Gimme a second, honey.”

Steve sighs, waiting, and he could swear Eddie is doing this on purpose, pulling into a parking spot and then pulling out again, straightening the van, pulling in again, pulling out. Steve scoffs and hits his head against the headrest, rolling his eyes.

“You’re so annoying.”

“Don’t wanna take up someone else’s spot.”

“Mhmm.”

Eddie is smiling as he finally stops the van and pulls the keys out the ignition, and he turns to look at Steve, eyebrows raised.

“You’re pouting?”

“…No.”

“Baby.”

Steve looks at him. And kisses him, leaning across the center console and crashing their mouths together. Eddie laughs, turning to hold his face. He reaches to unbuckle Steve’s seatbelt;t before doing his own, and Steve just tilts his head to kiss him deeper and he scrambles out of the seatbelt. Eddie hums, caressing his cheeks.

“Wanna go inside?” he mumbles between kisses. “Hm?”

“Mhmm,” Steve hums, nodding, but he doesn’t pull away, his breath catching when Eddie tugs on his lower lip.

“C’mon.”

Eddie holds his hand as he leads him upstairs, their fingers locked. It’s a little dark, the lights lining the stairwell dimmer than they should be. They’re quiet, not even whispering to each other as they ascend the stairs, and Steve steps up close to Eddie as he’s unlocking the door, pressing his face against his shoulder.

They’re kissing before the door is even shut behind them, before Eddie’s even flicked the lights on, and they kick their shoes off, shove their jackets off, clutch at each other. The inside of Eddie’s mouth tastes like cherry pie, sweet and sugary and fucking delicious.

Steve wraps his arms around Eddie’s neck and lifts onto his tiptoes, groaning when Eddie grabs his thighs and lifts him up. Eddie grabs his ass when his legs wrap around his hips, reaching to put one hand on the wall to steady himself as he makes his way to his room with Steve clinging to him.

They pull the clothing off each other’s bodies, breathing hard, touching and kissing and licking, and Steve keeps thinking there’s no way he can ever feel what he’s felt before, what he felt the first time Eddie pressed into his body, but the sun is somehow shining down on him even though it’s the middle of the night and they’re hidden in Eddie’s bedroom. Eddie holds his hand, clutching tightly as he opens Steve up tenderly, as he sucks kisses into the sensitive skin of his inner thighs.

Steve’s hand is tight in Eddie’s hair, holding on like he’ll float away if he lets go of him.

He’s whimpering, whining and moaning, and Eddie’s fingers feel so fucking good inside him, moving slowly, gently, carefully, fucking in and out of him, forcing soft noises into the air. Steve bites his lip, squeezing his eyes shut and exhaling sharply.

When he opens his eyes, he can’t see. His vision is blurred, the light from the lamp suddenly brighter than it usually is.

He opens his mouth for a breath, but there’s something on his chest, keeping his lungs from filling, and a tear escapes his eye. His hand clenches in Eddie’s hair hard.

“Baby?”

Steve exhales sharply.

Eddie moves up over his body, hovering over Steve, and Steve can’t let go of his hair. His hand is clenched tightly, shaking, and he can’t let go. He’s gripping so hard he’s probably, definitely hurting Eddie, and he can’t let go.

“What’s your color?”

Eddie’s voice is muffled, like Steve is underwater, like there’s something between them. Steve’s eyes blink, stinging,

“Steve. Color.”

Steve exhales again, and his voice is weak, cracking like a thin layer of ice when he finally says, “Red.”

Eddie’s fingers pull out of him, and Steve wants to protest, to whine Come back, but he can’t get any other words out.

“Come here,” Eddie says softly, kindly, and Steve squeezes his eyes shut, tears falling down his face, into his hair. Eddie holds Steve’s hand where it’s stuck in his hair, and Steve tries to let go, but he can’t.

“I’m sorry,” he says weakly, almost whispering. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I—”

“Steve,” Eddie says firmly, pulling him to sit up. “Don’t apologize, baby, it’s okay. We’re all done.”

Steve takes a stuttering breath, opening his eyes to look at him desperately. Eddie is looking at him tenderly, nodding when Steve inhales, and he’s so beautiful Steve starts to cry again. Eddie reaches up to gently detach Steve’s hand from his hair, and Steve closes his eyes tightly, trying to loosen his hand. Eddie holds his clenched fist in his hand, running his thumb over his knuckles.

“Baby,” Eddie says softly. “Look at me.”

Steve opens his eyes.

“You wanna get dressed?”

Steve pauses, looking at him, and then he nods.

Eddie leans to grab their clothes from where they’re discarded next to the bed. He sits up with a hoodie in his hand, one that was on the floor within reach. He lets go of Steve’s hand to help him get dressed, to help him pull his boxers on and tug Eddie’s hoodie on over his head before he dresses himself as well.

Steve covers his face in his hands, trying to hide, and he weakens even more when Eddie touches him, when he runs his hands over his arms gently, squeezing.

“Stevie, baby…”

“I’m sorry,” Steve chokes, his voice muffled. “I’m so sorry, baby, I— I don’t—”

Eddie shushes him gently, pushing his fingers through his hair.

“Steve, sweetheart, come here.” He pulls him in so their foreheads press together, and he caresses his cheeks, nudging their noses together. “Breathe,” he says softly, whispering. “It’s okay.”

Steve sniffles, reaching to hold his waist, gripping the fabric of his shirt tightly. He tries to breathe, to inhale slowly, normally, but it doesn’t work, and his breath gets caught in his throat, choking him.

“You got it,” Eddie murmurs.

When Steve exhales smoothly, Eddie lifts his head and looks at him, smoothing his hair out of the way carefully, gently.

“I’m sorry,” Steve breathes. Eddie shakes his head patiently.

“You don’t have to be sorry.”

“But…”

But it was a good night.

They’d gone on an actual date, and Steve had had fun, he’d held his boyfriend’s hand in public without worrying, without being scared. He’d kissed him in the car and giggled and blushed, and everything was fucking fine.

“Look at me,” Eddie says firmly, and Steve lifts his head, his vision blurring. Eddie is looking at him intently, tenderly. “You don’t have to apologize,” he says gently. “You didn’t do anything wrong, you understand?”

“But…”

“But nothing, baby,” Eddie says, leaning forward in emphasis. “You did so good for me, okay?”

Steve’s eyes flutter as he blinks tears out of his eyes.

“I’m so proud of you,” Eddie whispers. “I’m not upset at all, Stevie, okay?”

It must be clear on his face that Steve doesn’t believe him. Because it doesn’t make sense that Eddie wouldn’t be upset; Steve’s ruined their night. There’s no way Eddie isn’t at least disappointed.

“Steve,” Eddie murmurs. “Baby.”

Steve looks at him again, letting him wipe his tears and cradle his jaw.

“I would be upset if you didn’t say anything,” Eddie says gently. “If you didn’t stop me, and you just… let me keep going even though you didn’t want to.” His voice sounds tight. “Okay? You never, ever have to apologize for stopping anything. If it’s… If it’s sex, or if you don’t feel like talking, or if you don’t feel like being touched— anything. You understand?”

And something about the way his voice sounds, so firm, almost demanding, almost authoritative, makes Steve feel a little lightheaded. Makes him melt into his hands.

He’s so nice.

“Stevie,” Eddie says softly. “If you decide that you never wanna have sex with me ever again, that’s okay.”

Steve almost pouts, his head tilting, and Eddie smiles weakly, his thumbs brushing over Steve’s cheeks.

“That’s okay,” Eddie says adamantly, shaking Steve’s head gently, playfully. “You don’t ever have to do anything you don’t want to, okay? ”

Steve nods weakly.

Eddie leans in again, nudging their noses together.

“You don’t ever have to apologize for not wanting something,” he says softly. “For saying no or telling me to stop or asking for more time or fucking anything, you understand me?”

Steve nods, his eyes fluttering again. Eddie holds his jaw and shakes his head playfully again, and it’s kind of condescending, kind of mean, but it makes Steve’s mind go blank.

“You understand me?” Eddie asks again, more intently, waiting for a verbal response.

Steve isn’t thinking. His skull is full of static.

“Yes, sir.”

Eddie blinks.

And Steve’s own voice catches up to him. His face flushes with heat, and his eyes burn.

“I’m—”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Eddie says, half-smiling now. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Steve scoffs weakly, but he’s crying again, embarrassed, and Eddie wipes his tears away, leaning in to kiss his forehead before he lowers his head to press his forehead to it.

“Is that what you wanna call me, baby?” he murmurs. Steve’s stomach flutters. He nods. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, his voice weak again. It’s almost a whine.

“That’s okay,” Eddie whispers. “You can call me that.”

“But it’s weird,” Steve says quietly, shyly, and Eddie huffs out a laugh.

“You know I don’t mind weird.”

Steve smiles weakly.

“I like it,” Eddie whispers softly, the end of his nose brushing Steve’s. “I love taking care of you, baby.”

Steve nods, closing his eyes, exhaling slowly, and their noses brush again.

“I love taking care of you,” Eddie repeats intently.

Steve tilts his head and lifts his chin to kiss him softly, and Eddie lets him, humming quietly and holding his face like he’s something precious.

Eddie guides him to rest on his shoulder when they part, and Steve sighs, melting against him.

“Okay?” Eddie asks softly. Steve nods.

“…Thank you, sir.”

“Of course, baby boy,” Eddie murmurs, and he kisses Steve’s head, running his hands over his spine, and Steve think he might be fucking fine.

─────────────────

Steve’s hair is damp with rain as he makes his way up the stairs to Eddie’s apartment. He feels heavy; his jacket is almost soaked, and his jeans are sticking to his legs, and his bag is weighing his shoulders down. He lets it drop to his elbow before dropping it to the ground as he stops outside Eddie’s door.

Eddie answers within just a few seconds, and Steve smiles, tilting his head at him as Eddie steps aside for him to come inside, but something is off. Eddie’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks, dropping his bag next to the pile of shoes by the door, letting Eddie take his jacket. Eddie scoffs, his expression lightening.

“Nothing?”

Steve gives him a look as he toes his shoes off, kicking them aside.

“What’s going on?”

“Uh,” Eddie sighs, an eyebrow raising as he looks Steve up and down, half-smiling. “You don’t have an umbrella?”

“Don’t change the subject,” Steve says lightly, moving closer, setting his arms over Eddie’s shoulders and playing with the curls that have escaped the bun his hair is in. Eddie holds his waist easily. “Also yes, I do, but I forgot it.”

“Ah.” Eddie sighs heavily, slowly, his eyes skimming Steve’s face. “Wayne called.”

Steve blinks. His stomach twists.

He’s never met Wayne. Never even talked on the phone with him. But he loves him.

Eddie has endless stories about it, about his collections of mugs and trucker hats and bottle openers, about his banjo and the quilts that litter his living room. About how he’d stay up with Eddie to help him with his homework or to listen to him rant about whatever book he was reading or whatever campaign he was planning. About how he came home one day and threw a brand-new hairbrush at Eddie a while after he started growing his hair out. About how sweet he’s always been, how loving.

“Is he okay?” he asks, his eyes widening. “What happened?”

“He’s fine,” Eddie says quickly, smiling, shaking his head, pressing a hand into the small of Steve’s back. “He’s fine, it’s just…”

Steve stares at him as he hesitates, his lips parted like he’s going to speak even though he doesn’t say anything. Steve touches his face, brushing his thumbs over his cheeks. His eyes look a little bit red.

“It’s Linda,” Eddie says after a few moments, his hands holding Steve’s waist firmly like he’s steadying himself on him. Steve freezes. “She, uhm. She had a heart attack. She didn’t make it.”

He takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly, shakily, nodding his head absently. His eyes are glassy.

“How do you feel?” Steve asks softly.

Eddie inhales, laughing humourlessly, letting out a shaky, “Uh…”

“Baby,” Steve says, and Eddie meets his eyes. His eyelashes flutter as he blinks tears back, and his tongue swipes over his lower lip briefly. Steve slides his hands down to his arms.

“Come here,” he says softly, reaching for Eddie’s hand, and he pulls him along gently as he goes to the living room. Eddie follows quietly, sniffling, and Steve’s chest hurts. He pushes him to sit on the sofa, and Eddie falls on it heavily, looking up at Steve helplessly as Steve lowers to sit on his lap, his knees on either side of his hips. “Okay?”

Eddie nods, his mouth quirking into a tired smile. Steve sets his hands on his neck, tracing light lines over his skin.

“Tell me,” he whispers.

Eddie closes his eyes and takes a slow deep breath, relaxing against the back of the sofa and lifts his hands to rest them on Steve’s thighs.

“I, uhm…” He opens his eyes, but they’re hazy, glassy, trained on the collar of Steve’s shirt. It’s a plain t-shirt, grey and loose-fitted, but it’s nothing Steve would ever have worn even a year ago. The cross on Steve’s necklace is hidden behind the fabric. “I don’t know how to feel.”

His hands are kneading Steve’s thighs gently, absently, like he’s fidgeting.

“What are you feeling right now?” Steve asks softly. Eddie pauses before he shrugs.

“Just… I don’t know.” His voice cracks. He looks at Steve, looking into his eyes for a moment before he looks away again, squeezing Steve’s hips. “I’m… Sad. But. I don’t know.” He shrugs again, shaking his head. His head falls against the back of the sofa.

Steve brushes his thumb over his throat lightly, his heart aching.

“I feel angry?” Eddie says after a moment, his expression shifting into confusion. “I don’t— I don’t know why, it— it’s like she slighted me or something, I don’t…” He does that laugh again, that awful laugh that grates on Steve’s skin, that laugh that’s void of joy. “I don’t know.”

“You’re allowed to feel angry,” Steve says quietly, tucking a loose wisp of hair behind his ear. The tunnels through his earlobes are black today.

“It’s not just anger,” Eddie breathes, his hands sliding up to Steve’s waist like he’s pleading with him. “I… I feel relieved.”

He whispers it. Like it’s a secret. Like he’s ashamed.

“That’s okay,” Steve whispers back, but Eddie shakes his head, blinking rapidly.

“It’s not,” he breathes. Steve takes a breath to say something, but Eddie speaks again. “She’s dead. I— How can I feel, like, content with it?”

“She was cruel to you,” Steve interrupts, leaning down with emphasis. “She was mean. You have every right to feel relieved that you don’t have to worry about her anymore.”

Eddie’s head falls back again and he sighs, looking at the ceiling. His eyelashes are wet. Steve traces the bat on his neck, caressing its grotesque face, its intricate wings. Eddie’s hands squeeze his waist, kneading and holding him tightly.

“Talk to me,” Steve says after a few moments. Eddie takes another deep breath.

“Uhm,” he says. His voice wavers, and Steve hates seeing him like this, hates seeing him sad. “I saw her a few years ago.”

Steve nods, caressing his neck.

“I was nineteen. Wayne had… Wayne had had an accident at the plant,” Eddie continues, steeling himself. “He was injured. It wasn’t, like… He was on bed rest, you know? And when he called me, I just… I panicked. I’d only lived away from him a little while, and I just… I went to him. Just in case.”

Steve smiles fondly, nodding. Of course Eddie would go to him.

“He couldn’t really walk. He was still… I mean. Wayne’s a character. He kept tellin’ me I didn’t need to go all the way down there, but he… I could tell he was happy I was there.”

Steve’s smile grows. Eddie’s accent always grows heavier when he talks about his hometown or Wayne. Steve likes hearing his accent.

“So one day, I was…” Eddie sighs. “I was in the kitchen fixin’ up some tea. Wayne was in bed with a book. He took my room after I left town.” Steve nods. “And, uhm… There was a knock.”

He slips a hand under the hem of Steve’s shirt, pressing to his skin. His hand is warm.

“I thought it was gonna be, like, a neighbor, or— or one of Wayne’s work buddies, but it was—” He cuts off, choking on his own voice, and Steve’s stomach hurts. “It was Linda.”

He pauses for a moment, slipping his tongue over his lips, kneading the soft flesh above Steve’s waistband.

“She didn’t recognize me at first,” he says quietly. “I, like, froze when I saw her, and she— she just stared at me. And I could— I could see the exact moment she realized who I was, I mean she, like… Her eyes went all wide. And she looked me up and down, and I— I remember I was wearing just a black hoodie, but she looked at it like…”

“Yeah,” Steve says softly when he doesn’t finish.

“I’d had these done,” Eddie says, lifting a hand and touching one of the piercings on his lower lip. “And I had, uhm, one here,” he says, touching the side of his nose. “I let it close a while ago, but it was, uhm, just a silver hoop.”

Steve nods, smiling.

“She… She just stared at me, and neither of us knew what to do.” Eddie looks at Steve’s chest again, his eyes glassy, and it’s like he’s zoned out completely, like he’s barely even there. “She had a, uhm, like a casserole dish, and a— a Bible. And I just kinda stared for a moment. And then she, uhm, like, snapped at me about… You’re not gonna let me in?”

Steve sighs.

“And I just said no.”

Steve scoffs, and Eddie’s expression lightens. He looks up at Steve’s face, his hands tightening on his waist.

“And I asked what she wanted, and she told me she heard Wayne was hurt so she came by to see him, and I… We started arguing. And Wayne came out of his room to see what the fuss was, and he was— he was limping, and hobbling, and Linda and I both, like scolded him for getting out of bed. And for this… brief moment, we were… one in the same.”

Steve’s expression tightens. His lips purse.

“Wayne saw the Bible she was holding,” Eddie continues. “And he…” He half-smiles, tilting his head fondly even though he’s just staring into space. “Goddammit, Linda,” he says in a clear impression of Wayne, his voice gravelly, his accent thicker. Steve smiles. “I told you I don’t want that shit in my house.

“I helped Wayne back to bed,” Eddie continues. “And Linda let herself in. Started to heat up the casserole. I told Wayne to stay put, you know, that I’d deal with her.”

“I assume she didn’t go easily,” Steve says. Eddie shakes his head.

“She, uhm… She argued. Told me she just wanted to speak with Wayne, say a prayer for his health. I told her Wayne wasn’t interested.” He trails off into silence, chewing on his lip. “…She said she wanted to help me, too, but… but that I was already too far gone.”

Steve blinks. Recognizes the words from Eddie’s thigh.

“I told her to leave.” Eddie blinks, looking up at Steve. His lip trembles, and his eyes fill with tears. “That was the last time I saw her.”

Steve touches his cheek. Eddie turns his face into it, taking a stuttering breath.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he says softly. Eddie blinks his eyes open, shrugging again. “Eddie.”

“I feel like shit,” Eddie says, a tear falling down his cheek, his voice shaking. “I hate feeling like this, like— like I’m fucking vindicated or something. Like this is justice.” His eyes are wide like he’s desperate to say this, like he needs Steve to hear him. “She’s dead. I should be, like, grieving, but I’m not,” he says despite the tears on his face, despite the trembling of his hands.

“Eddie,” Steve says firmly, holding his face. Eddie’s tears run down his fingers, dampening his skin, and Steve thinks he could use the tears as holy water, could use them to bless himself, to purify himself. “There’s nothing wrong with what you’re feeling.”

Eddie’s breath shudders as he exhales. He looks up at Steve like he’s helpless, like he’s listening like his life depends on it.

“She abused you,” Steve says after hesitating for a moment. “She was cruel. She used God to use you. You have every right to be glad she’s gone. Okay?”

Eddie’s eyes flutter. Steve wipes his tears away tenderly.

“Whatever you’re feeling is fine,” Steve murmurs. “You can be angry, and you can be sad, and you can be happy, it’s… It’s all fine.” He looks him in the eye. He looks tired. “Okay?”

Eddie’s eyes blink at him. His hands are still trembling a little bit.

“…I love you.”

Steve almost startles, blinking, freezing, and Eddie’s expression doesn’t change; he’s still gazing up at Steve, looking at him like he’s fucking reverent.

“I know it…” Eddie pauses, taking a breath. “I know this is really bad timing, but I…” His eyes flutter, and he presses his lips together, hesitating.

Steve leans down and kisses him. It’s a slow kiss, gentle and lingering, and Eddie’s hands slide around to the small of his back, holding him close. When Steve pulls away, he stays close, their noses nudging, their foreheads pressing.

“I love you too,” he says quietly, whispering. “It’s okay.”

Eddie exhales shakily, and he lets out a quiet sob, and it tears through Steve’s body, rips him to shreds right in Eddie’s lap. He kisses him again, holding his face gently, pushing a hand into his hair when Eddie gasps into his mouth. Eddie wraps his arms around his waist, holding him tightly, pressing them together so close Steve feels like their skin might melt together.

Eddie makes a soft noise, a weak groan that slips between Steve’s lips and rumbles into his chest. Steve whines back, his arms wrapping around Eddie’s neck, his back arching when Eddie kisses him harder, biting and sucking on his lip, and it’s like the air in the room has suddenly become hazy. Eddie lifts a hand to grab Steve’s throat, holding him in place as he licks into his mouth.

Steve hums, keening, slumping against him, nodding when Eddie pulls away for a brief moment to look at him. He doesn’t let go of Steve’s throat, squeezing a little bit as his other hand slides around to his back, pushing under his shirt and rubbing his skin. Steve reaches to hold his wrist, gasping for breath, cheeks warm. Eddie is harder under him, and Steve’s blood is rushing.

“Eddie,” he gasps when they part.

“Mm.”

“Do you… Do you wanna have sex?” he asks breathlessly. Eddie grins, his teeth nipping at Steve’s lip.

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asks, pulling away to look at him. His hair is already a mess, and his cheeks are pink, and his eyes are glassy again, but it’s a better shine than before.

“Yes,” he says softly.

“Can we do it here?”

“Do you want…”

“I’ll go get it,” Steve says quickly when Eddie’s hands set on his hips like he’s going to nudge him to get up. “Wait here.”

Eddie smiles lazily, softly.

“Okay.”

Steve goes quickly, tugging his shirt off on his way and tossing it aside as he grabs the lube and a condom from Eddie’s bedside table. They’re sitting in plain view, next to a half-full glass of water and a book Eddie’s been reading, and the sight of them, so casual, so easy, makes Steve happy somehow.

Eddie is pulling his own shirt off when Steve goes back to him, and Steve tosses the lube and condom to the sofa next to him before unzipping his jeans as Eddie watches, hair even messier than before, frizzy and staticy from his shirt. It’s a relief when Steve finally peels his jeans off his legs; they’re still a little damp, but he hadn’t noticed the discomfort until now. Eddie lifts his hips to pull his jeans and boxers down his hips, pushing them to his knees before reaching for Steve, who takes his hand as he kicks aside his clothes.

He falls onto Eddie’s lap again with a sharp exhale as their bodies meet. Eddie’s skin is warm.

“I love you,” Steve breathes, pressing their foreheads together as Eddie reaches for the lube and tugs at the small of Steve’s back to make him arch it. “I love you so much, sir.”

“God, I love you too, baby,” Eddie whispers. The lube bottle clicks twice, and Steve lets out a weak sound when Eddie’s finger presses to his hole, cold with lube. “I’m so fucking grateful for you.”

Steve whines, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s neck, hiding his face, groaning when Eddie squeezes at his ass, spreading him open. They’re both quiet as Eddie fingers him open, his fingers pushing and prodding, spreading his fingers and making Steve ache in the best way, except the occasional whisper, the soft brush of Eddie’s breath on Steve’s bare skin.

Is that good?

Fuck, yes, sir.

Steve groans when he feels ready, when the heat in his stomach is threatening to overflow, and he reaches back to swat at Eddie’s hand, whining a weak Please.

He lifts onto his knees for Eddie to roll the condom on and spread lube over himself, and he looks down at Eddie, who looks back up at him. They just look at each other for a moment, eyes shining, lips parted as they pant. And then Steve kisses him so hard their teeth clash, and Eddie groans, squeezing his ass. They don’t pull away, feeling blindly for Steve to lower himself onto Eddie, and he moans into Eddie’s mouth as he does.

“Mm, God, Eddie.”

“Fuck.”

Steve lets out a sound that’s high in his throat, breathy and weak, and Eddie’s hands spread over his waist, holding him in place for a moment. He’s trembling now, shaking as he clings to Eddie’s shoulders.

“Shit,” he breathes sharply. “You’re so— You’re so fucking deep—”

Eddie hums, gripping Steve tightly, and they pause there, staying for a moment.

Until Steve shifts on his knees with a weak whines, rising and then lowering, his eyes squeezed shut so tightly he might get a headache. He sounds pathetic.

He moves faster after a few moments, arms wrapping around Eddie’s neck, face buried and hidden, his voice muffled as he whines and pants and groans as Eddie touches him, holds him. Eddie’s hips shift for a brief moment, rising to meet Steve’s movements, and it presses him even deeper, and Steve lets out a fucking wail.

“You okay?” Eddie asks breathlessly, pausing. Steve grinds down against him, whining, breathing hard, nodding into his neck.

“Green, fuck, Eddie,” he whines. “Please, sir, please, please—”

Eddie slides down the sofa a little bit, holding Steve’s hips tightly, keeping him in place, and he fucks him, looking up at him, watching closely, carefully. Steve whines. He’s rambling, mumbling fucking deliriously even as he listens to Eddie’s soft voice, murmuring to him.

“My good boy,” he says softly, so fucking softly. “My baby boy, you’re so perfect.”

Steve sobs, pushing a hand into Eddie’s hair, holding it tightly as he gasps for breath, moving against Eddie’s body, winding his hips, tucking his face into Eddie’s neck. He can feel Eddie’s breath on his shoulder, warm and soft and comforting.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Eddie says roughly, hands gripping Steve’s hips so tightly it might bruise, when Steve moves again, up and down, and Steve groans at the sound of their skin meeting, soft slaps that fill the air like mist. “That’s my boy, there you go, baby.”

Steve whines, and there are tears on his face now. Eddie tugs at his hair to make him lift his head, and he gazes at him for a moment before he pulls him in, and he licks Steve’s tears away, and maybe he thinks the same about Steve’s tears that Steve thinks about his. Steve groans, his eyes closing again as Eddie’s tongue slides over his cheek, as his hand pulls his hair and his other hand squeezes his ass.

Steve grinds against him, reaching up to hold Eddie’s face weakly, his fingertips pressing into his cheeks.

Their faces are pressed together, breath mixing in the air, bodies moving desperately.

“I love you,” Steve breathes. “I love you, sir—”

Eddie whines, licking his jaw before his hand lands on Steve’s ass sharply, the sound ringing out around the room like it’s empty, like there’s an echo.

“I love you too,” he whispers roughly. “Fucking beyond words, baby, I can’t even fucking tell you—”

Steve comes with the words caught in his throat, choking on them as he repeats them again and again and again and again, like a mantra. Like a prayer.

Eddie says it back. Again and again and again and again.

They get dressed slowly. Quietly. Eddie pushes Steve’s hair back after helping him pull on a sweater, and Steve pushes him gently so his back is to Steve, so he can pull his curls back into a ponytail.

Eddie makes coffee. Steve hugs his waist as he pours it into two mugs, resting his face against his back between his shoulder blades, his cheek squishing against him. He can smell the fabric of his shirt, and it’s nice.

They sit in the living room, on the sofa, and then Eddie looks up at Steve, his eyebrows taut.

“Do you… Would you mind if I smoked a cigarette?” he asks. He looks shy.

Steve shakes his head, smiling, and he reaches to set his mug aside.

“Where are they?” he asks as he gets up. Eddie looks up at him, and his eyes are shining again as he smiles.

“Uh, I have a pack in the drawer there,” he says, gesturing to the table by the sofa. “There’s a lighter there too. I’ll open a window.”

They sit on the windowsill, blankets wrapped around themselves, mugs set between them.

Steve holds up a cigarette for him, and Eddie leans to take it between his lips, suppressing a smile. Steve fiddles with the lighter for a moment, staring at it, and Eddie reaches silently to show him, moving his hand so he can flick the lighter and tilt his hand without burning his thumb. Steve tilts his head as he holds the light out, as Eddie leans in and inhales, puffing smoke out of his mouth as he leans back again.

Steve sips his coffee as Eddie smokes, leaning against the window. The glass is cold even through the fabric of his sweater and the blanket that’s wrapped around him, but he doesn’t mind. He gazes at Eddie, watches the end of his cigarette glow brightly, watches the smoke drift around his head and out the window that he’s opened. Eddie drains his coffee and tapes the cigarette ash into the empty mug.

“How do you feel?” Steve asks softly when their eyes meet.

“Better,” Eddie says. His voice is soft, quiet, almost shy. He smiles.

“Do you wanna talk about her?”

Eddie shrugs, taking a drag, sighing the smoke out of his lungs.

“I just…” He’s quiet for a moment, looking out the window, watching the world outside for a moment. “I was so young when I lived with them. And it just feels like… like there’s still this little boy somewhere inside me that went into hiding because of them.”

Steve nods, holding his mug to his face so the steam is on his skin. He wishes he could take it all away from Eddie, wishes he could reach into his chest and pull out all the heartache and sadness. Eddie is quiet, looking at the windowsill between them. It’s white, the paint chipping at the corner of the wood.

“I keep having to remind myself that I didn’t deserve it,” Eddie says quietly. “All the shit they gave me.”

And Steve doesn’t know what to say.

He’s reminded of the things Eddie’s said to him about Steve’s own parents, about the way they talk to him, the way they touch him.

“They turned me into someone else,” Eddie says quietly, tapping the cigarette on the mug again, sighing. “I wasn’t the same when I left their house as when I moved in.”

He looks up at Steve, and he looks like he wants to laugh like that again, to dismiss it and change the subject, to pretend he’s fine. But after a moment, his eyes are gleaming, watering again, and his lip quivers even as he twists his mouth to suppress it. He shrugs, blinking his eyes, tilting his head, and he looks so small Steve wants to tuck him into his chest to keep him safe.

“I was so soft before them,” Eddie says, his voice just a breath, and Steve’s chest splits open.

His eyes burn suddenly, and he nods, blinking tears back.

“I’m sorry they stole that from you,” he says softly.

He pauses for a moment before he leans in, through the air that smells like cigarette smoke, over his mug, and he touches Eddie’s face with his free hand, holding him as he kisses him gently. They linger there, eyelashes fluttering against each other’s cheeks, before Steve pulls away and looks at him, touching his cheek.

He takes a deep breath, looking at Eddie’s piercings on his mouth, looking at the bat on his throat, at the subtle reddish bruise that’s hidden in the bat’s wing from Steve’s teeth. He slides his hand down to Eddie’s chest and presses over his heart like he’s trying to feel the heat of his blood.

“He’s still in here,” he says quietly, looking at his hand pressing over Eddie’s sweater. “Little Eddie.”

Eddie suppresses a smile, sniffling, putting his hand over Steve’s like he’s holding it in place.

“We can… We can make him feel safe now,” Steve says, looking into Eddie’s eyes. “He can exist without being scared now. At home.”

Eddie’s smile wavers. His hand presses harder over Steve’s.

“I love you so much.”

Steve kisses him again, tasting coffee and cigarettes on his tongue.

“I love you so much too.”

♡ permanent taglist: @estrellami-1 @theplantscientist @spectrum-spectrum @carlprocastinator1000 @starman-jpg @romantiklen @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme ♡ holy things taglist: @stevesbipanic @pearynice @ao3whore @slowandsteddie @swordsandflowercrowns @dragonmama76 @mikeys-thoughts @sofadofax @cyranyx @kazalohiku @lostonceandneverfound @strangerfreaks @bitchysteveharrington @nailbatanddungeon @newtstabber (comment to be added/removed to/from either list!!)

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[winterrrnight]

“here we are again” — new beginnings chapter II

PAIRING: stepdad!soft!rafe x mom!reader

WARNINGS: none!

EDITH SPEAKS: hello mls! I hope you enjoy reading this chapter <3 just a lil note: updates will get a bit sporadic for the upcoming week or so because I have some big things coming up which unfortunately require more attention than my silly little fics :( I greatly apologise for that, but let me tell you once I'm free I'll have great fics awaiting you all!!

please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading and don't hesitate to let me know any of your thoughts 💕💕

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↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

You let out a huge sigh as you lean back in your chair and close your eyes shut. You’ve been trying to find a good preschool for Sage, after you had to pull her out of the one she was earlier in because their fees increased exponentially, and unfortunately you haven’t been earning enough to support Sage going to such an expensive school.

“Mamma mamma!” You hear her call you out from a different room. Her footsteps are audible as she comes running to you, basically banging the floor with her feet.

“Mamma!” She says, smiling wide, standing next to the front legs of your chair and tugging on your pants. You look down at her and plaster a big smile on your face, picking her up and placing her on your lap.

“Yes baby?” You coo, leaning to press a kiss on her soft cheek, which is tinted a light pink.

“I made something for you! You have to see it now,” she says, now tugging on your crewneck. You get up from your chair, Sage on your hip as you go to the room she was just in.

You set her down on the floor, and she picks up a folded paper. “Here,” she grins, and you take the paper from her.

You unfold it and you see a drawing of you, her, and one strange man standing next to the two of you. She’s colored in the drawings, her colors going out of her drawn lines, assuming their own directions, but nevertheless, you can’t help but grin wide at the present.

“Sage baby,” you get on your knees in front of her, “this is so cute! You’re my talented little kiddo, aren’t you?” You smile, tickling her sides. She laughs and squirms to get away from you, her little hands trying to swat you away.

“But who is that?” You ask, pointing at the drawing of the strange man.

“Fafe!” She yells excitedly.

“Fafe? Who’s ‘Fafe’ baby?”

“We met him, at the, at the store! He was big, veryyy big!”

And suddenly it strikes you. The handsome, handsome man who you met at the grocery store. It’s been around a week since that day and you had nearly forgotten about him.

Nearly.

Until this exact moment.

Now everything comes back to you; the exact moment you saw him, your eyes sinking into his, your heart beating so loud it might as well jump out of your chest.

“I remember him baby, why did you draw him?”

“Because, because he was very nice to me,” she says, her hands at her back as she’s swaying side to side in her position.

You aren’t sure what to reply to her with. She drew a man you met and didn’t even talk for more than five minutes on a random Tuesday, and showed you three being a family.

Dad, mom, and Sage. A family.

Is she expecting you two to just get married to him? To bring him in your house this quick?

But, at the end of the day, she’s a four year old little girl, with a wild imagination, and a desire to have a father figure in her life.

You’ve tried your level best to never let Sage feel the lack of a father in her life, but you always knew deep in your heart that one day, she will wonder why she only has a single parent, and why can’t she have two parents like all her friends. But you never expected this day to come so early.

You shake your head and come back to reality, and let a smile pull onto your lips. “I’ll hang this on the fridge next to all your other art,” you tell her, and she jumps up and down with excitement. You make your way to your kitchen, your daughter on your heels as she’s giggling, and you pin her drawing up with a magnet next to the rest. You take a step back to admire the splash of colors on your fridge door, your heart feeling content.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

You smooth out the wrinkles in her dress, and tie the bow of her dress tightly. Sage is especially giggly today, your hands roaming over her little body which constantly creates a tickling sensation on her skin.

“Mamma, where are we going?” She asks you, carefully pocketing a candy you gave her. You pick her up and take her to your kitchen island, settling her in her chair to hand her her cereal.

“We’re going to a new school baby,” you say, pouring milk into her bowl and mixing it well with her fruit loops.

“But, I love home,” she puts, her eyes big and wide, and you know she’s trying her best to convince you to stay at home by putting on a puppy dog face.

“You know that face doesn’t work on me,” you smile, sitting next to her, and gently smoothing a hand over her hair. She only giggles as her answer and you pick up her spoon, and start to feed her. Even though she knows how to eat on her own, you’re worried she might get messy and spill the milk on her dress.

You were worried she might not like the idea of going to a new school. She really liked the previous one, but you knew you couldn’t keep her in there for long. But here she is sitting next to you, eating her cereal as excitedly as if you’re about to go to an amusement park.

Once she’s done eating, you both leave for the school. This one also happens to be closer to your home than the last one, so you're quick to reach there. You help Sage get out of the car, her light bag hanging on her shoulders and her hand securely in yours, as you lead her to the main doors of the school.

When you go inside, the receptionist leads you to the classroom Sage has been assigned to. A few children are sitting on the floor of the classroom, empty white sheets spread around them along with unopened boxes of paint.

You hear Sage audibly gasp as she notices all the art supplies, her eyes shining with a desire to create art. You look around the classroom to spot a teacher, but there’s no one to be seen.

You decide to maybe talk to the receptionist once again; maybe she’s making a mistake? You leave Sage in the classroom and turn around, and almost in the next fraction of the second you bang into a broad chest.

“Oh gosh I’m so sorry!” You grunt, your eyes closed from the impact. You run a hand over your forehead, feeling a slight pain from your collision into the broad and muscular chest.

You finally open your eyes, and you see the last person you would expect to be here.

“Rafe?”

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

what do you all think Rafe is doing there? 🤭

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[changes]

Friday, October 13th, 2023

🌟 New

We’ve been experimenting a lot lately with the For You feed on the dashboard, and one thing that’s rolled out to everyone is that it now contains a mix of content from people you follow and people you don’t. This is an intentional change, and the mix should be around 50/50 for now. We’re still tuning it though, so please send feedback if you have thoughts about it!

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🛠 Fixed

Please update the iOS app to the latest version, 31.6, to receive the fixes for Tuesday’s two ongoing issues.

We’ve recently fixed some more bugs that have been preventing SoundCloud embeds from working properly.

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[ldrfanatic]

If the World Was Ending

Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader Part Two of Craw Home to Her

A/N- after weeks it's finally here! This isn't a direct songfic like the first part, however, it's accompanying song is If the World Was Ending by JP Saxe

Slight alteration to the original timeline of events of Half-Blood Prince

crawl home to her (part I) navigation slytherin boys masterlist

After that party in the Slytherin Common Room, you and Theo had begun dating. And for the entire month of January, a perfect Valentine's Day, and everything was perfect. Now, with Spring Break is rapidly approaching, the war is becoming more and more real. Everyone in your small circle knew of the tasks that had been assigned to you and a few other children of prominent Death Eaters in preparation of their takeover of Hogwarts at the end of the year.

Draco had begun to stress and look worse for wear as the weight of this secrecy from Hermione started to settle in. Mattheo, who had the worst of the lot of you, had given up on his usual banter with Potter and had been holed up in the boys' dormitory for the past two weeks or so.

Though there'd been an uptick in the moods of Theo and yourself in the midst of your new relationship, the novelty and puppy-love air had dampened when a letter from Theo's father arrived a few days ago requesting a visit home in the upcoming spring break. While your parents had been relatively silent since giving you your assignment, you knew that they'd want a progress update soon, and you hadn't even worked up the stomach to begin at all.

The thought of betraying your classmates and professors at Hogwarts had become sickening to all of you.

Still, sitting here in Theo's arms under a large oak tree at the Great Lake, you couldn't find it in yourself to feel scared or sad. There was a soft and sweet bubble of love around the two of you with a warm air that seeped into your bones and warmed your soul. Theo pressed a sweet kiss to your temple and when you turned to meet his eyes, you were unsure how you never realized that Theodore Nott was in love with you. Especially if he'd been looking at you like that all this time.

"You know I leave next Tuesday, love?"

The deep rumble of Theo's voice in his chest felt like a lightning bolt through your body that had electricity simmering at the tips of your fingers and your toes. How you'd never realized you were also madly in love with Theodore Nott you were also unsure of. Had your body always reacted to him this way? The thought of being away from him for 10 days made your heart sink a little lower than you'd anticipated. You and Theo had been each other's light as the skies darkened and the air turned cold. You could predict now that your mood would suffer significantly from a lack of Vitamin Theo.

"I'll miss you."

"And I you," His arms tightened around your torso and pulled you further back into his chest. "have you heard from your mum yet?"

You shook your head and tried not to think about the rage you'd certainly face if you didn't start on your task soon. You'd never particularly been friends with Katie Bell, but the thought of cursing her made you a little queasy. Especially when it meant the end result was weakening Dumbledore so that Mattheo could deliver the final blow.

Still, Draco and Theo both has worse jobs than your own. Draco was still working on the Vanishing cabinet and adjusting to his new dark mark bestowed to him by his aunt, and your mother, Bellatrix LeStrange. Theo had been tasked with enlisting the help of the Acromantula and Centaurs in the Dark Forest and it wasn't going very well. When he'd returned the other night, he'd had arrow cuts all over after rapidly fleeing the scene when his meeting with a group of centaurs turned sour.

In short, you'd been given an easy and simple task with minimal danger. But you'd been given it because it was essential. Should you fail to deliver this curse to Dumbledore, when Mattheo advances on him, he will surely lose, and the Dark Lord will descend upon the entire lot of you with a fury unknown.

"You'll be fine. And the curse won't kill Bell, she'll just be a little rattled."

You whipped your head upwards to your boyfriend and flashed him a bewildered look. "They asked me to use Imperio, Theo! That's an unforgiveable."

"I know. But in the grand scheme of things, we'll all be otherwise occupied before this whole thing is over."

You settled back into his embrace without another word.

You knew he was right.

But you just couldn't stomach it.

Turns out you were right. You couldn't stomach it.

You tried to be as quiet as possible as you deposited the contents of your stomach behind the Three Broomsticks. Thankfully, the bustling sounds of Hogsmeade during Spring Break were cover enough for the sounds of you retching.

But it was done. Katie Bell had been successfully cursed, given her mission, and sent on her way to the Headmaster's Office.

It was the last few days of Spring Break and Theo was supposed to return soon. Your nerves ad been on edge since he'd left. Now that you completed your task, you felt a little better but you wouldn't be able to relax until Theo was safely back into your arms. Only two more days and he'd be back.

After what turned out to be an unsuccessful attempt to curse Katie, you went back to your dorm room and tried to ignore the growing feeling of dread inside of you. Once your mother heard of your failure through Professor Snape, you were pretty much done for. You didn't attend Dinner that night and instead decided to remain holed up in your bed with your curtains drawn shut. You weren't exactly in the mood for sympathies.

However, your plans to sulk for the evening were interrupted quite suddenly by Pansy Parkinson. "Y/n get up! They're here."

You rolled over halfway and stared bewildered at your friend. "Who's here?"

"The Death Eaters."

A chill ran straight down your spine. They weren't supposed to be here until the end of the year. They weren't supposed to come until Theo came back. Still, you flung yourself out of bed and quickly pulled on your tennis shoes and a jumper to protect you from the cold air. When you finally exited the common room, it was pretty clear where the Death Eaters were. Students were tearing off in waves away from the Great Hall. You could hear your mother's manic cackling and curses fired into the crowd caused even more panic.

You masked your fear with an emotionless facade and began shoving through the crowd towards your mother trying to appear as mean as possible and firing meaningless spells into the crowd.

As soon as your mother could see you, she bound towards you with a grin. It was hard to tell if she was angry or excited. It was always hard to tell. "Daughter! You've done so well. The Dark Lord will be so pleased. Dumbledore is dead!" You tried to smile and look happy with the news but your chest tightened further. Dumbledore was dead, Theo was missing, and you were now back into the clutches of your insane mother.

Part of your heart sunk at her words. You'd never particularly cared for your mother but it was always The Dark Lord will be so pleased or The Dark Lord is proud or The Dark Lord cares for all of his disciples and never her saying those things to you. She was never pleased, never proud, and she never cared. Harry Potter came suddenly around the corner of the corridor and fired a stunning curse that hit Crabbe's father dead center in the chest.

Your mother's face instantly turned from pleased to enraged and she let out the cruciatus curse in a bellow. You didn't see the remainder of the encounter as she and the other Death Eaters took off after Potter. A temporary relief calmed your heart. Snape hadn't said anything to your mother. At least not yet. Maybe you could convince him not to say anything.

As you ran through the castle, you'd noticed dead bodies of classmates that'd been slaughtered by the Death Eaters' rampage. Still, no sign of Theo. You begun to fear for your boyfriend. There's no way that Nott Sr. would come to the castle on this mission without Theo. You were so lost in your head, you didn't see Hermione until you slammed into each other and knocked heads. Your movements mirrored each other as both of your arms shot up to rub at your temples.

"Y/n! Have you seen Draco?"

You shook your head sympathetically and wrapped the brunette into what would probably be the last hug you ever gave Hermione Granger.

"I've got to go, but Theo's looking for you. I just passed him outside of the Charms classroom running around like a madman." She sprinted away from you but turned momentarily to shout after your own retreating figure. "If you see Draco, tell him I love him!"

You took off towards the Charms classroom with a new fervor. Please Salazar let Theo be okay. Finally, you heard his voice. "Y/n?! Y/n!!"

"Theo! Theo I'm here!!"

The moment you laid eyes on Theodore Nott your heart stopped. He was covered head to toe in bruises and his skin had paled since you saw him last. He looked downright awful. But that didn't stop you from launching yourself into his embrace and squeezing like the world depended on it. Draco, Mattheo, Blaise, and Pansy were all rallied behind him. Pansy was tucked into Blaise' side. Draco had his wand drawn and was frantically checking every door in the corridor no doubt looking for Hermione.

"She's not here, D. I ran into her maybe five minutes ago. She asked me to tell you that she loves you. Then she took off towards the East Wing of the castle."

Draco immediately started sprinting in the direction you'd come from with Pansy and Blaise hot on his tail.

You recentered on Theo who pressed his forehead down into yours.

"What has happened to you Theodore Nott?"

"It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter if the sun were shining or if the world was ending, I will always be right here. With you."

You stared up at him. "The world is ending, my love."

You pressed your lips against his.

okay okay done for now. should I just make this into a series at this point?

WC 1739

2.7.2024

[euphreana]

Ballister Boldheart killed the queen. That’s what everyone is saying, but things aren’t adding up for Ambrosius. Torn between his duty to The Institute and his love for Ballister, Ambrosius wants to find the truth. But with Ballister behind bars and the upcoming trial looming, will he find that truth in time? And why is a certain pink shapeshifter so eager to help him?

-

So for those who might've missed last week's note, I'm writing a fic with with @bitsy83! We're looking at a T rating for dark/grim and maaaybe some GoldenHeart citrus. I'm planning to drop chapter 1 next tuesday, so stay tuned!

Update: Chapter 1 is here!

Masterpost

[sentient-cloud]

Hello, It’s my now regular money post. I promise you we’re trying to get back on our feet but it’s a hell of a thing. Making a new one because the old one lost some traction.

TLDR: Im homeless, as you may know. I live in a hotel room with my mom and our cat. We’re both disabled, in a way that makes working hard. My mom recently became really sick and missed a lot of work and ended up in the ER. She’s better now, but her job laid her off and now we’re between jobs with the hotel payment due.

I will keep everyone updated as the job situation progresses, I promise you. I can also state we have looked into local assistance programs, and they just do not exist in our area, at least not for housing. (We are in the application process for food stamps and medical support from the state)

Job update 11/22: Job started! Training starts today! Again, unfortunately paying for the room in the time before the first paycheck is still an issue, but the end is in sight

The Hotel room is $450 a week, and it’s due Tuesdays. Current upcoming due date is 11/29 Genuine thanks to everyone who helped so far, who’s sharing or offering aid in any way, I genuinely can’t word how much it means to me, to all of us.

We were a bit short last week, thankfully they again let us slide by tacking the remainder onto the next upcoming week, however we do very much need to make up that money by 11/29.

$240/650

There’s not even homeless shelters in our area that are free, and the weather is dropping pretty low here. I promise I wouldn’t be making this post if I wasn’t desperate and scared and felt I had no other choice.

I can offer commissions, Some examples of my art:

P//ypal is @alexsoneill1

V///nmo is @alexis-oneill-10

C//sh//pp is $aonei

Thank you so so much, everyone who shares or helps out. It means so much to all of us. I’m so sorry I have to keep making these.

[doyawalker]

Out Of Sight, Out Of Mind#10

chapter 9.

contains smoking and a lot of emotions lol

I am currently studying for upcoming exams and I am also working on my bachelor's thesis so updates will be a bit slower now <3

again, thank you all for your love for this series. This chapter will finally spice things up a bit :)

masterlist

previous chapter

taglist: @namjooning-94, @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad, @parkinglot-nights , @y2kcy3brz

__

‘Cause Honestly, You’re Dead To Me

But that was the problem with the truth. The truth wasn’t always easy but oftentimes more complicated. And lies were often not made undone by simply saying ‘I’m sorry’. But what else was there to say? 

The next few days felt weird to you. You spent Saturday and Sunday at home, Saturday to recover from your raging hangover from the party, and Sunday because you felt unwell. Not physically but rather mentally. Your mind was haunted once again by the memories of Jungkook, but not only of those from two years ago this time. You felt it for sure. The way his facade had begun to break, his confident demeanor revealing something underneath that didn’t seem to be so ignorant. But every time you sat down and thought about it, you forced yourself out of spiraling immediately, not willing to accept the fact that he was keeping you up at night again. You tried to remind yourself that this was the exact way it had started back then as well; the attention, the seemed honesty, the emotions. And you had fallen for it back then and you refused to fall for it again. Still, when Tuesday came around and you sat in your seat in the lecture hall, waiting for the professor to start the class and Jungkook let himself fall next to you on the bench, you felt your heart’s pace quicken. But he proved himself to be as disappointing as always. He didn’t mention a word about the party, not a word about the exchange they had, and he sure as hell didn’t let his emotions slip again. No, he acted his usual casual self, making jokes you didn’t laugh about, annoying you about copying your notes, and asking again when the two of you would meet for the group project. And his nonchalant acting annoyed the shit out of you. This was so typical for him that you almost were upset about how you thought he would act differently this time. About hoping that he could maybe change. That he would ever change. But why would he? Hadn’t you given him the impression that he could just act however he wanted and still would get your attention? Hadn’t you given him the satisfaction of gaining access to your life again? Was it your fault again? 

The anger sparked in the pit of your stomach on Tuesday and by Thursday it had developed into a wildfire. And on Friday you finally snapped.

He had convinced you to meet in the library on Friday to start your outline for the presentation. You had met there at seven in the evening and it was currently almost nine. You were still working on the second point of your outline because Jungkook kept on talking about this music project he was working on on the side with Yoongi and Hoseok and quite frankly you didn’t give a fuck. All you cared about was that you were tired, that you couldn’t believe you were stuck with him for the rest of the semester, and that he was not taking this seriously at all, for fucks sake.

“Can we please focus back on this?”, you interrupted him, your voice so harsh that a few people sitting around you turned their heads in your direction. You had your head in between your hands, looking up at him and when your eyes met he furrowed his brows together.

“Are you okay? Do you need a break?”, he asked, concern lacing his voice.

“Yeah, a fucking break from you.”

He grinned, not taking you seriously and it was infuriating.

Pinching the skin between your brows, you sighed in frustration, your eyes wandering back to the laptop screen in front of you, the almost empty Google Doc basically laughing at you. 

At least he finally stopped his monologue, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“What’s wrong?”, he asked.

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. The audacity of him. 

“Nothing.”, you answered, your lips pressed together in a straight line. “Can we just finish this?”. 

He eyed you silently, tilting his head to the side. “You wanna go smoke?”

A sigh escaped your lips. Of course, you couldn’t just finish this.

“Sure.”, you said, the thought of a cigarette easing your mind sounding too good to reject. You used to smoke with him all the time back then. Now you didn’t usually. But you could fucking use one right now.

You stepped outside, still not thanking him for opening the door for you. The sun had already set and the air was chilly, but you weren’t freezing. Maybe it was the annoyance still bubbling in your stomach or maybe it was the warmth his body was radiating, who knew?

He handed you a cig and as you lit it up and took the first drag, the smoke filling your lungs in a familiar way, you felt yourself relax a bit for the first time this evening.

You felt his eyes on you but you chose to ignore it. You didn’t want to talk to him. There was no use in small talk after all.

Your eyes wandered across your campus, seeing a few students walking around, talking, listening to music, or smoking as well. The semester was going by fast, you noticed. 

“Do you wanna tell me now what’s wrong?”

His voice broke the silence, finally forcing your eyes to meet his.

He blew the smoke of his cigarette out into the air, tapping the ashes onto the ground carelessly. 

“Why do you keep asking these dumb questions?”, you sighed, taking the cigarette back between your lips. 

He pulled his brows together. “Why do you keep avoiding my questions?”

“Because you know the answers to them. You just want to hear me say it.”

He chuckled to himself.

“I’m not that cruel.”

“Yes, you are.”

You took another drag, the smoke lingering in the air in front of you. You had never talked with him so openly until now. But there was something about it now, after the club and all the unsaid things. Why play games?

“Is it because of the club?”, he finally asked, leaning his body against one of the walls surrounding the entrance door. 

You looked back up at him, an unreadable expression on his face. He had already finished his cigarette.

“Yes, Jungkook. This is because of the club.”, you answered, your voice a bit louder than you wanted it to be. “Idiot.” “I wanted to talk to you but Tae had to play the big macho guy, didn’t he?”

“You had plenty of time to talk to me this week.”

He scratched his nose, buying himself some time. 

“If you wanna talk, then talk.” 

And that comment was what made you snap. Because you had enough of his audacity, of his arrogance, of his nonchalant ways. You didn’t care about being too open or too emotional anymore, you hated the fact that he just came back into your life like that, without any consequences of his actions from back then. You hated how much he affected you still, how he was so obviously playing with your feelings again because he wasn’t being fucking honest about why the hell he was doing all of this, to begin with. Why bother you? Why make a group with you? Why?

And so you turned your body around to him fully, the hand with the cigarette shaking slightly, maybe due to the nicotine or due to the anger rising up in you, whatever. 

He looked at you with his stoic facade, his arms crossed in front of his chest. But when you started to talk his eyes began to widen.

“For fucks sake, Jungkook. I don’t want to talk to you. YOU are the one that wants to talk. YOU are the one that began to pester me all day around. YOU are the one that keeps on bothering me. YOU are the one that for whatever reason can’t accept a fucking ‘No’ as an answer because I made it clear from the start that I don’t want anything to do with you. Why would I? Maybe you’re gonna keep on trying to make me believe that you don’t remember what happened back then but I know that you know and if you know then you know why I don’t want to spend time with you. And I hate that you are just trying to make me forget about that, do you have any idea how hard it was for me to get over this fucking shit?!”

You came closer to him with every word until you had to tilt your head back to look up at him, your finger drilling itself into his chest, the anger radiating in your chest, almost making you feel dizzy. He simply watched you, his jaw clenched together.

“And then you keep on doing some fucked up shit like in the club, searching for my attention, and then afterward you just keep on acting like everything is normal and fine, do you have any idea how fucking infuriating that is?! You messed with my head back then and now you’re trying to do it again and I am so fucking tired of your fucking bullshit, so you either gonna tell me right now what the fuck is going on with you or you’ll leave me the fuck alone, because I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Your breath had quickened, your heart beating in your chest so loud, that you almost couldn’t hear your own voice. 

The words had come out of you without thinking much and now they were hanging in the air between you, your body so close to his that his perfume was occupying all your senses. 

He didn’t say anything.

His eyes were burning themselves into you, a dark shadow cast over them.

A second went by.

Then another.

And then he finally moved.

“I’m sorry.” 

You could hear him mutter the words under his breath before he surged forward. His hand found your jaw, tilting your head to the side slightly before his lips crashed against yours with a force that almost made you take a step backward.

The world came to a halt. 

Your mind came to a halt. 

Your thoughts stopped processing what was happening for a moment, as you felt his lips move against yours.

He had never kissed you. Never before. Because that was something people in relationships do. And you never were in a relationship with him. 

But now here he was. Kissing you in the dark, his eyes closed, his fingers gripping your jaw gently.

And it wasn’t until you felt his tongue slightly brushing over your bottom lip, that the world finally kept on turning. But your mind stayed blank. 

And so you let yourself fall, caving into him, letting two-year younger you take over. Because they were in bliss right now.

Your arms wrapped around his neck effortlessly as he pulled you even closer, your lips parting for him and he sighed silently. His body was burning against yours, your chest pressed against his, his hands now wandering up to cup your head, burying themselves into your hair. 

His lips felt like heaven against yours and as he kept on moving against you, the heat began to travel down your body into the pit of your stomach. A feeling you never had with him before. All the sex had been fueled by desperation, not lust. This was new. Something you never knew you could feel around him.

But before you could realize the meaning of that, the sound of his phone ringing made you almost jump back from him, breaking away from his contact, and getting some distance between the two of you.

And as he cursed silently, grabbing his phone from his pocket to mute it, the reality of what just happened crashed onto you with such a force that it almost knocked the air out of your lungs.

You stared at him, as panic filled your system, your thoughts beginning to spin in a rapid manner. What the fuck? Self-doubt mixed itself with desire, making you feel nauseous and when he looked back at you, his face distorted with an apologetic look, you had to flee. You couldn’t stay. How could you? You had just let him kiss you. Out of all the people on this planet. How could you ever forgive yourself?

And so you ran. You pushed past him quickly, pushing open the door and leaving him standing outside in the dark. You heard him yell after you but you didn’t turn around.

It had all started with a bet. A simple bet that maybe sounded stupid to someone from outside, but it was a trend going around in his friend group. Five-dollar bets, just to keep it fun. It had been Hoseok’s idea. But maybe one shouldn’t bet on other people’s feelings. Because as he looked after you, knowing that he couldn’t follow you because you would probably kill him, it didn’t feel like he bet on your feelings but rather on his own. 

__

[lollipopsub]

Updates on Utsukushii Kare: Eternal + S2 (as per Jan 26, 2023)

hi lovelies 💓

a lot is happening for this fandom at the moment, so I got a request to gather as much as possible of the info we've received so far!!

Here is a pretty long post summarizing what we know thus far!

The movie is called Utsukushii Kare: Eternal. The tagphrase on the poster is "Time and time again, I will search for you. Time and time again, I will love you. That is my eternity."

The movie will premiere April 7 in Japanese theaters.

The movie and the drama is NOT THE SAME THING.

I've seen a lot of people who seem to think the movie will just be like a special cut or something, but no, we're getting lots and lots of new story!!

The stories will connect, and the movie will serve as a continuation of season 2.

Here's the first trailer for the movie:

That's all we know about the movie so far.

Onto the drama!

Season 2 will start airing February 7

.... on a handful of different Japanese channels. At the time of writing, nothing has been confirmed about international distribution.

The first trailer for the show will be released next week, Tuesday the 31st of January!

The synopsis for Season 2:

"The days pass in bliss... Hira is in his 4th year of university and Kiyoi is active as a newly debuted actor. They live together in Hira's house as boyfriends. However, Hira's religious worship is unchanged, and the way he crawls and bows as low as possible without hesitation is causing neverending worries for the beautiful, arrogant King, Kiyoi. In addition, Hira has discovered a new hobby of following Kiyoi around while in disguise so as to not be found out. He did his best to not disturb Kiyoi, just watching, alone and quietly – but then an event lets him befriend a fellow fanboy.

As graduation grows closer, Hira's friends are busy hunting for jobs, and Hira starts worrying about his lack of job experience...

What road will Kiyoi and Hira choose as they move towards adulthood?"

The above, taken from the official website, is nearly the same synopsis as the second book, Nikurashii Kare, so it's likely that the season will be based on this book.

Cast so far:

So we have Koyama again, and otherwise there's a lot of new casts. A few have also confirmed that they'll be in the movie too: Hira's sister Naho, his nephew Tomoya, and it sounded on the actress as if Anna will also be in the movie. The rest are only officially confirmed to be in the show, but to be fair, absolutely nothing has been revealed about the movie yet other than title and the fact that the stories will connect.

The OP & ED songs will be done by the same artists as season 1, just switched around - so the opening song for S2 will be "Bitter" by Roce (ロス), who sang the ending song "Follow" from S1. Bitter will be from Hira's POV.

The ending song as well as the theme song for the movie will be by Mosawo (もさを。), called Kinmokusei ("Sweet Osmanthus", it's the name of this flower). Kinmokusei will be from Kiyoi's POV.

I think that's it for the time being, but I will try to update you whenever other more relevant news come out, and ofc I'll do my utmost to subtitle the upcoming trailer as soon as possible!!!

if you read this far, ilu <3

[0nmykne3s]

UPDATE ON FRIDAY MAANUM

scroll down or click keep reading to see translation

Saw her national team friend collapse before her eyes: - Scary, disgusting and uncomfortable

Guro Reiten was close by when Frida Maanum suddenly fell over during the league cup final. The experience put a real dent in the Chelsea player.

- I wasn't that far away. I was out on the pitch. When things like that happen, it's very scary and dramatic. Those minutes will be long, but luckily it's going very well, says Guro Reiten to NRK.

In the national team, Chelsea's Reiten and Arsenal's Maanum are good teammates. But during Sunday's cup final, they were fierce rivals in pursuit of one of English football's biggest trophies.

When Maanum suddenly fell over on the grass, however, all temporary rivalry was put aside. Instead, a deep uneasiness filled Reiten, who turned and walked away from the scene.

- She gets the best treatment she can from those around her. The rest of us stay away. We have nothing to do there. You just go and hope and believe that it will go well. And it did. It's scary, disgusting and uncomfortable, she says.

- What goes through your head?

- Many strange things. Football becomes unimportant, first and foremost. There were a few long minutes there.

The mother with a health update

Maanum's collapse occurred in overtime of Sunday's final. She was taken off the pitch on a stretcher with an oxygen mask over her face.

Earlier on Tuesday, Maanum's mother gave a long-awaited update on her daughter's health status.

- Frida will take more tests today. There is nothing to indicate that there is something seriously wrong, says mother Liz-Heidi Leonhardsen to NRK.

It is still unclear whether Maanum will join the upcoming national team gathering. Norway's national team manager Gemma Grainger informs NRK that they hope to make a decision during Tuesday.

- I don't know the results of the tests, but I hope for an answer soon. Because we hope to make a decision tonight about what is best to do regarding Frida. We hope for positive responses, says the coach.

Reiten's message to Maanum

Arsenal won the final 1–0 and became cup champions. Shortly after the match they brought good news and conveyed by Maanum was conscious.

- There is nothing to suggest that she is not in as good shape now as she was before Sunday's game. It was of course dramatic when it happened, and you think the worst, but now I am calm and believe that this will go well, says mother Leonhardsen.

After the match, Reiten sent a message to Maanum.

- I wrote that she scared us, but that I hoped it went well and that she had to take care of herself.

- And you got an answer?

- Yes, quite quickly. So it was pleasant, Reiten smiles.

Grainger watched the match on TV. From the time Maanum hit the ground, it took 15 minutes before she received an uplifting update on the health of the national team player. Those minutes were almost unbearable, says Grainger.

- It was awful.

Undecided about the national team meeting

Maanum is still with the club team Arsenal in London. It is not certain that she will join Norway's national team squad before this week's EC qualification.

The NFF confirms this to NRK.

- We have a close dialogue, but no decision has been made, media officer Henning Sverdrup tells NRK.

- As long as everything is fine with Frida and I know that she is followed up in the best possible way with tests and everything she has to go through... if she is doing that well, then of course I hope to see her here, says Reiten.

The Norwegian national team gathered in Oslo on Monday.

Qualification for the European Championship in 2025 for Norway starts on Friday at home against Finland, before there is an away game against the Netherlands next Tuesday.

[tsarisfanfiction]

Eclipse: Chapter 1

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Adventure Characters: Apollo, Hades, Nico di Angelo, Will Solace According to the prophecy, Will has to go to on a quest to Tartarus.  According to Apollo, that isn’t going to happen, even if it means he has to break the Ancient Laws. It's finally here - this fic was conceived in February 2022 and after fourteen months it's finally finished and ready to share! At its core, this fic is a response to the upcoming novel The Sun and The Star, specifically the plot I would love to see but know for a fact won't happen for reasons that hopefully will be obvious very quickly - so I wrote my own version! I have specifically avoided any TSATS spoilers so any similarities are completely unintentional. After today, updates will be biweekly on Tuesdays and Fridays. This is the longest story I've ever completed at over 130k words, and I hope you enjoy the ride! There are blanket warnings for various degrees of injuries and similar nasties throughout the fic.

HADES I Not Another Blasted Prophecy

“No.”

Apollo could be dramatic when he wanted to be, which was more often than not, and this was no exception.  How his nephew had barged his way down into the Underworld – and specifically his own palace – Hades was not quite certain, but he knew he didn’t approve.  Apollo’s current temperament was not helping any thoughts of endearment, either.

“Absolutely not,” his nephew ranted, inconsiderate enough of his surroundings to glow as brightly as his chariot, freezing several skeletons in place and going so far as to immolate the ones that didn’t manage to escape his immediate sphere of influence.  The sun was not supposed to materialise in the realm of the dead, and it was certainly not supposed to be in the heart of his palace, ranting about something Hades had yet to make heads or tails of.

“Leave,” he ordered, cutting through Apollo’s next nonsensical words.  “You do not have my permission to be here.”

Apollo, all blindingly painful energy and movement, stilled and his eyes met Hades’ own.  All of them had eyes like fire, a window to the true godly energy concealed beneath the forms they favoured, and Apollo was always the brightest, the most vibrant.  Usually, those flames were gold, dancing more in amusement as he went about his business.  Sometimes, they flickered blue, into the territory of white-hot and dangerous when he couldn’t quite smother the rage that occasionally flared up inside of him.

Today, they were neither golden nor blue-verging-on-white.  Today, they were orange, and mortals might think that orange was a weak flame, but mortals had never stood on the bank of the Phlegethon and felt its frigid heat soaring through their essence.  Hades could not recall seeing the exact shade of fire water in Apollo’s eyes before, and he could not say he was pleased to see it now.

The river of healing and fire suited his nephew better than he cared to admit, at his most volatile, and Hades did not need that same nephew’s domain of prophecy and foresight to conclude that something drastic was about to occur.

Why did Apollo have to come to the Underworld in this mood?

“I am not letting this happen,” his nephew all but hissed, solar flares cascading off of him in waves and dousing Hades’ throne room in colours it had never seen before.

Colours it was never supposed to see.

“Get out,” he snapped, drawing the shadows in tighter and snuffing out the vestigial edges of the light.  Whatever it was Apollo was having a fit about, Hades was not having that behaviour in his palace.  His nephew didn’t even flinch as the outer edges of his light faded away, instead having the gall to continue to approach his throne.  The souls of his robe writhed against the encroaching light.  “Apollo-”

“They’re going to the Pit,” Apollo growled.  “And I will not let that happen.”

In theory, there were any number of candidates that could be encompassed by the word they.  Six billion living souls above them, a large minority with some level of godly legacy from various pantheons, left for a large degree of interpretation.

In practicality, there was only one they his nephew would ever bother to talk to him about, only one they both of them had any level of investment in, and Hades had always been cold, ever since taking on the domain of the Underworld, but that did not stop the icy realisation curling up inside his essence.

He gave no sign of this to the younger god in front of him.  “I told you to leave, Apollo,” he ordered, rising to his feet and drawing upon his domain to evict the unwelcome interloper.

Apollo was powerful, yes, but despite his brother’s paranoid fears, he was not at the level of an elder god – certainly not in the heart of Hades’ domain, so far from any of his own.  Fire water eyes widened a fraction, not enough to be a chink in Apollo’s armour and betray what he was truly thinking but enough to prove which of the two was more powerful, as the blazing sun was muffled and stifled into a dying star.

“And next time you decide to offend me with your obnoxious presence, leave the dramatics at the door.”

With one last heave of his powers, the sun god vanished, expelled from the realm of the dead and deposited back in the Overworld, where he belonged.

Hades was under no illusions that Apollo would stay there, however.  His time as a mortal had changed something inside him – nothing so dramatic it had altered the core of the god, but enough that he was now apparently willing to consider and do things that before he would have brushed off.

And, truly, Hades could not in honesty say that he did not understand his nephew’s protectiveness of the demigods.  That was not to say Hades cared about the half-bloods running about on the husk that had once been his grandmother as a whole, but his own child – one, single living child – had done much to worm his way into his attention.

In fact, he had done it by being so obnoxious it was difficult to dismiss him, rather like a certain sun god.  Perhaps there was some logic behind his decision to couple with one of Apollo’s myriad of offspring, after all.

Regardless of the hows and whys, Hades had found himself wanting Nico to be happy, a feat all but impossible for one of his own children (and, secretly, a reason why it had been so easy for him to keep the pact his younger brothers had failed miserably at; there was little reason to bring demigods into the world if, even by the standards of heroes, their lives would be short and miserable).  Happy meant having friends, being accepted, even having a son of Apollo for a boyfriend, it transpired.  Happy did not mean returning to the depths of Tartarus, which was why Hades had explicitly forbidden it after learning of his last trek down there.

Perseus Jackson might no longer be the unwitting holder of his son’s heart, but he had certainly done plenty of damage while he’d had it.  Hades was certain this rebellious streak had more of Poseidon’s influence on it than his own, even if he knew that, truthfully, Maria had been just the same.  Of course she had, to have not one, but two children out of wedlock at a time when a woman’s reputation was solely dependent on her marriage status.

Not for the first time, and not for the last time, either, Hades wished she had taken his offer of a palace by the Styx.

Apollo’s children, by contrast, were less mired in tragedy.  As far as demigods went, they were weaker, not bright beacons for monsters and quests despite their parentage, and thrived in the modern world just the same as they had across the millennia.  No matter how much society changed, there were always calls for healers and music, and Apollo seemed particularly gifted at not passing down his less favourable domains to his children.  Hades could not recall the last time he’d heard of a Plague Child.  There was no reason for Apollo to cling so tightly to his living offspring.

No reason except for the increased influx of demigod souls to Elysium over the past few years, with a far higher percentage of Apollo’s children compared to the rest.  Except for the six months Apollo had just spent as a mortal, bonding with demigods in a way no god – not even Dionysus, despite his current position as Camp Director of Camp Half-Blood – had done for millennia.  Except for the way Apollo had, ever so subtly, changed after his punishment.

That had been particularly cruel of Zeus, in Hades’ opinion.  The quests were one thing, and almost getting his son killed had been another, and Hades had approved of neither, not when he could see echoes in his brother of their father in the actions – a tyrant in the making that not he, not Poseidon, and not even their sisters could bear to see but equally had no idea how to stop it before it got too far – but the cruellest punishment of all had been giving Apollo, the god who loved so deeply and unapologetically, no choice but to make bonds with mortals who would all too soon pass beyond his reach.

Now his nephew was attached to his mortal offspring, and it was already making him do reckless things, barely a day after regaining his own godhood.  Hades couldn’t deny that he was glad for the warning his son was intending on finding a way to sneak into Tartarus despite being told explicitly that he was never to do so again, because that meant he knew to keep a closer eye on Nico’s actions, but he did not appreciate his palace being invaded without so much as a by-your-leave.

(His sister, no matter how much the pair of them disagreed on everything, at least pretended to ask permission before barging in to see her daughter.)

And yet, he had invited Apollo to come back, as much as he ever gave invitations, and his nephew was not stupid enough to miss the way he’d worded the last dismissal.  Knowing that Nico intended to go to Tartarus again – taking his boyfriend with him as though he’d lost any common sense he might have once had and failed to realise that a child of the sun, especially one as healing oriented as that one, would have no chance at surviving – was useful, yes, but it was not enough.  It did not tell him why, and that was important.  There had to be a reason why Nico would even consider returning there, especially against his own father’s orders, and there was a part of Hades that feared it was because he had no choice.

Therefore, he made sure to always keep one splinter of himself on his throne, even as the rest of him busied around with all the work that went into keeping the Underground functioning, and waited for Apollo’s inevitable return, knowing it would not be long.

Sure enough, it was barely a day before he felt the same unnatural light permeating through his realm, heading for his palace.  Hades was going to need to find which entrance his nephew was sneaking in through and do something about it before any of his other brethren decided to follow Apollo’s example (he suspected the doors of Orpheus, given their musical nature), but for the immediate present, he had other things to push to the forefront of his mind.  Chief amongst those was the information he was determined to glean from his nephew, no matter what Apollo was planning on telling him, and he gathered all of himself back together again, whole on his throne moments before there was a knock on his door.

A knock.  That was un-Apollo-like enough for him to harbour some sliver of hope that, just maybe, he could get through his conversation without getting so frustrated at his nephew’s dramatics that he threw him out again.

Of course, Apollo wasn’t so unlike himself that he’d follow the common courtesy of waiting to be permitted entry before pushing the door open and stepping in, matching Hades’ stature exactly as he strode towards the throne.

He was, at least, making some sort of effort not to immolate the dead this time, which was about as far as Hades could expect Apollo’s hold on his natural tendency for dramatics to extend.  His eyes betrayed him, however – still windows that seemed like they were offering a view of Phlegethon, rather than Apollo himself, and proving that he was no calmer than he had been on his previous visit.

Hades didn’t bother with small talk, pleasantries, or giving Apollo the chance to control the conversation.

“Why,” he demanded, leaning back on his throne and making sure he was still looking down at the younger god from his dais, “is my son planning to disobey me and return to the Pit?”

“Our sons,” Apollo corrected, but Hades waved him off.

“I never forbade your offspring entry,” he said.  “If William wants to dive into the Pit, I will not stop him, although I will question his sanity.”  His throne room brightened by a noticeable degree and Hades pulled on the shadows to dampen Apollo’s influence but otherwise ignored the minor – by Apollo’s standard – dramatics.  “That was not my question, Apollo.  Why is Nico planning to return there, against my explicit command?”

If it had anything to do with Apollo’s offspring, he was going to have to keep a closer eye on that relationship.

Apollo met his gaze firmly, unafraid.  “He believes something down there is calling him.”

“What.”

The word slipped out before Hades could consider if he wanted to give it voice or not, his throne room darkening further until the only light was what little Apollo was mustering against the shadows encroaching on the sun god.

Something in Tartarus was calling his son?  Hades’ thoughts leapt immediately to his giant bane, who would no doubt know of his son’s existence even if Nico had never directly interacted with him.  Alcyoneus was unfortunately intelligent, and it would not be beyond his schemes to attempt to lure Hades’ son down to him if he could not get to Nico himself.

Why Nico was listening was another matter entirely.

“I refuse to believe my son is so foolish as to listen to a voice from the Pit,” he said, narrowing his eyes at his nephew, “and despite his foolish father, surely William would not let him return there.”  If that son of Apollo was in any way encouraging it…

“He believes it is… Bob.”  Apollo’s tone was difficult to decipher, but Hades did not think he was particularly impressed, although whether by the name or the Titan’s real identity, he was not certain.  “Whom he believes he owes a debt.”

Perseus Jackson’s fatal flaw was not supposed to be infecting his son.

“He owes him no such debt.”  The memory-wiped Titan had never been the most comforting of individuals to have around his palace, no matter how much Persephone had enjoyed ordering him around.  Hades had no fond recollections of his uncle, or living in close proximity to Titans; while it was possible that returning to Tartarus had restored Iapetus’ memory, he was far more comfortable with the knowledge that the Titan was back where he belonged.

Still, now he knew that something was luring his son down there, there were preventative measures that could be taken.  Hades would not thank Apollo for bringing the information to his attention, because he was well aware his nephew had only done so in order to prevent his own son from dying in Tartarus, but he was, privately, glad that the younger god had opted to do so.

“Very well,” he said out loud, rising from his throne and making sure he remained taller than his nephew as he descended his dais.  “I will keep a closer eye on my son, and prevent him from returning.  You are dismissed, Apollo.”

The sun god startled, as though he hadn’t expected to be thrown out.  Or perhaps he had, and was surprised that Hades was not forcibly banishing him this time.  “But-”

“You are dismissed,” he repeated more insistently, walking past him without a backwards glance.  “Leave, before I make you.”

“No, you don’t-”

Hades gathered his shadows and sent them to swarm the younger god, ignoring his protests.  Apparently an eviction was required after all.  “Do not worry, I see no reason to inform my brother of your attempt at interfering with demigod lives,” he told him, considering that more than enough as a show of gratitude.  “Goodbye, Apollo.”

His power surged, preparing to hurtle his nephew back to the overworld.

“There’s a prophecy!” Apollo shrieked just as he disappeared, and Hades froze in place for a moment, before realising the other god was gone and reaching out his shadows to snatch him back.

“There’s.  A.  What?” he growled out as the sun god – the god of prophecy – reappeared, hair slightly dishevelled from the sudden transportation.

“A prophecy,” Apollo repeated, standing up straight and locking eyes with Hades.  The orange flames within flickered fiercely, and Hades couldn’t help but notice the vain god not even raising a single hand to fix his hair.  “It was spoken yesterday.”

Just before Apollo appeared in his realm in a flurry of drama and Phlegethon-eyes, desperate to find a way to stop it, Hades realised in hindsight.

He was not Zeus; he knew that Apollo did not choose the prophecies that were spoken by his oracles, and nor did he have any control over their timing.  Unlike his little brother, he would not torment Apollo over an aspect of his domain he did not actually control.

That did not stop him from covering the distance between them in a single step and grasping his nephew by the throat.  “And this prophecy says that my son will return to the Pit?” he demanded, his nails digging into the soft flesh of Apollo’s favourite form.

Being a god, Apollo did not actually need to breathe in order to be capable of speech, so Hades had no qualms about how tightly he gripped his throat.

“Our sons,” the younger god corrected.  “It was spoken to both of them.”  Apollo was carefully avoiding which Oracle had issued the prophecy, as though that would stop Hades from finding out and unleashing another curse – the odds were higher than even that it was once again that blasted Delphic prophecy, and if she was going to be the reason Hades lost the last of the di Angelos, she would not be spared.

Hades was no fool; he knew that, with the exception of Great Prophecies, they were spoken to one they were relevant to.  If Apollo was certain that it had been issued to the two demigods specifically, then it was inevitable that somehow, no matter what evasions anyone – mortal or god – tried to make, they would be the subject of it.  Still, he could at least try to hope that there was something else at play.

If he lost Nico, his last child, to a prophecy…

The Pythia would only be the start of his retaliation.

“What did it say?” he demanded.

Apollo had not looked away despite Hades’ aggression; his eyes remained that burning fire water as he stood stock still, head tilted upwards partially because of Hades’ own hand, and partially because his nephew refused to back down.  It backfired slightly on the younger god, however, because it meant Hades could see the barest glimmer of fear within his expression.

Despite that, the god of prophecy’s voice was perfectly steady as he spoke.

Sunshine and darkness go deeper than earth Topaz and silver search for rebirth Gold passes through the shadow of death A fading light to take one final breath

Chapter 2>>

[nokingsonlyfooles]

Keep Calm and Soldier On!

Soldier On! Spies Like Us begins today, and updates every Tuesday at 12:01 PM for the next six weeks! It's free!

There are, as always, bugs to work out. You might wanna give me a half hour or so before you load the latest instalment so I can fix some of 'em, but it should be legible when it goes live. Patrons get all six upcoming instalments in rough form at the Patreon and they don't have to wait! (Please don't join the Patreon yet. For complicated reasons, I'm going to take it down and rebuild it with a different payment structure, as soon as Canada lets me have a bank account.)

I will keep reblogging this post with updates when the next instalment drops, in the faint hope of fooling the algorithm into thinking it's worth looking at. If you'd like to reblog it too, by all means! Likes and replies help too!

[thesims4blogger]

The Sims 4: Official Laundry List (December 1st, 2023)

The Sims Direct Communications, the official Twitter account for technical information on The Sims 4, has just shared a new Laundry List of bug fixes that should be resolved with the next game update.

Although an exact date hasn’t been confirmed for the next patch, it is safe fo assume it is going live on Tuesday, December 5th, two days before the release of The Sims 4 For Rent Expansion Pack.

Sul Sul Simmers!

Welcome to this month’s Laundry List, where we share a list of the top community concerns we’re currently investigating and hope to resolve in the next patch. This is only a list of topics with upcoming fixes; there are more topics reported by players that are not listed and are still being worked on.This list is based on reports by players on Answers HQ and helps us continue our work of improving the user experience on a regular basis.

Please note that some topics can be tricky and may require an extended investigation on our end, so even though we are actively reviewing, it’s not a guarantee that we’ll have an immediate fix in the upcoming patch.

Here’s the list of the community concerns we’re investigating and aiming to resolve in the game update this month: 

Admired Icon: Can't fulfill 250 followers on Social Bunny

Sims Use Far Away Sink for Dishes instead of Close

Sims excessively making coffee/tea, autonomy issue

Issues after placing " Standard gas oven by blazin ladles" oven.

Sims gaining fame eventhough they are out of the spotlight

Sims Won't Finish Meal If Finish Drink First

Sims excessively "Ask What Happened"

Constant kitchen fires with fear of fires trait

Plant reverts to dirt pile (Sim is on different lot on season change)

Game 'freezes' occasionally when opening in-game menus

Sims created via genetics are having default body hair

Sims doing country dancing when different style of music is playing

Build Mode Undo Button That Brings Up The Search Menu

Excessive use of phones and use in inappropriate places

Want to solve hard problems for kids but only available to teens

Errands Taste of Adventure: Cross stich task doesn't fulfill

Song/Book/Paint/Nectar progress bar fills up action never finishes

Sims enter locked apartments/houses

Thank you for all your patience and valuable help in reporting!

Please continue sharing with us any issues you’re experiencing on Answers HQ.

We’ll continue to check in and together we can make this game the best it can be. Happy Simming!

[changes]

Tuesday, April 18th, 2023

🌟 New

We’re working on allowing everyone to Blaze each others’ posts! Please note that there’s now a setting to disable this for your blog, if you don’t want any of your posts blazed. There will also be a per-post Blaze toggle. And just in case people miss this post or that Staff post, there will be a banner shown to all users across all platforms informing them of this new feature, so they can turn it off if they don’t want their posts being blazed. Also, if you have been Blazed, you’ll have the ability to cancel it before approval (or rejection) by human moderators, or extinguish it after approval.

We’ve added the ability to crop and rotate images in the image editor in the latest iOS and Android apps.

We’ve added “Last updated” / “Created on” dates to themes in the Theme Garden on web.

We’re removing the emoji from the dashboard and explore tab labels across all platforms.

In the new post editor on web, we’re refining the design of the tag input field to help more people discover it and use it.

🛠 Fixed

Fixed an issue in the new post editor, specifically when using it in a mobile browser on an Android device, that was causing the content block options to be anchored to the left side instead of the right side.

The next version of the Tumblr iOS app, 29.1, has a fix for the problem of not being able to buy Ad-Free Browsing.

🚧 Ongoing

We’re aware of an issue in the Android app which could cause the wrong image to be loaded into the lightbox when tapping on an image in a post, we’re working to fix it ASAP.

🌱 Upcoming

We’re working on adding the ability to set community labels to posts in bulk to the Mass Post Editor on web.

Experiencing an issue? File a Support Request and we’ll get back to you as soon as we can!

Want to share your feedback about something? Check out our Work in Progress blog and start a discussion with the community.

[gaviicreates]

Craft week in review

Good Morning, and Happy Sunday! Here in the US, we just caught up with the rest of the world with that twice annual clock adjusting we do. Those of you without daylight savings, you know where it's at. In any case, Northern Hemisphere means we got extra sleep today, so not too many complaints from me here. Even the dogs accepted the lie in, which was amazing.

I'm still figuring out how I want to use this blog space. My impulse posts I can't put here, because I used a log in type that requires me to be on my laptop. That means you get the nice pictures, the reflections, the organized WIPs updates, but none of that is helpful in keeping the space active. What are you, blog? An archive, a journal, a gallery?

Please bear with me while I figure it out. I get that the pictures of the finished objects are what tends to inspire people, but I like writing and sharing the journey, even if those musings are not as entertaining. I'm still working on the balance.

~*~

Doilies

Last week, I primarily worked on blocking some finished doilies I had to work on over a couple of days. I only have one set of blocking boards with the circle lines for me to properly measure out the doilies evenly. I'm fine throwing my own stuff on the normal boards and eye-balling it, but not for commissions. With those finished I decided to open up some more local commissions, which quickly filled with family members, and posed the question a bit more in general to the online audience. So four more commissions have joined my schedule, though not all of them need to be in by Christmas.

In the meantime, I started another tree doily, and I plan to take pictures of those pieces soon so I can share them. Here's a phone one to hold you over.

Purchases/Acquisitions

I had a couple purchases last week - and some quick turn arounds. In the yarn world, I placed an order for some Hobbii Rainbow Lace which is one of my go-tos for when specific colors are requested. The yardage is not as much as one might get with Aunt Lydia's from the local JOANN or Michaels, but the shades they carry are so rich and varied. Plus, I'd been eyeing up a rust color I needed an excuse to add to my cart. I also grabbed some dark reds and soft greens to play around with Christmas shades.

Of the hand-dyers, one of the brands I follow is Hue Loco out of Colorado. As with hand-dyed, you're paying for what I consider a luxury material, so as much as I would like to buy everything I do try to splurge sparingly for the sake of my wallet. But I stumbled upon a colorway that was perfect for a project I'd been planning, and since it was going to be a gift for my husband, I didn't mind going the hand-dyed route. The colorway is called "Magpie" and it's a beautiful blend of blues and greys with a sprinkling of browns. SW 100% Merino in worsted. This one came in yesterday, and I couldn't resist working it up right away.

I may have also purchased something for myself while I was on their site. Shh.

I also splurged and ordered some Furls wooden streamline hooks I'd been wanting - in Ebony. One of my dogs got ahold of one of the nice resin colors that were no longer in stock, so I couldn't re-order it when it made unusable.

Expensive week for me! But it'll be the last for awhile while I budget instead for Christmas and start working on the projects these materials were purchased for. For a last hurrah before the holidays, I'm happy with these selections.

Upcoming

The sock DPN class I signed up for starts tomorrow, and knit night at my LYS on Tuesday.

I have one more more doily to block, the next tree one to finish, and the commissions pending.

The new Furls Hooks should arrive next week. Hobbii is enroute.

WIPS: My sky blanket project is making great progress - I've been able to keep up with it and the goal will be to provide an update monthly around the middle of the month. Chevron Scarf was put on hold this week, but maybe I will work on it some today to give me a knitting break.

[hypnotisedfireflies]

Prompt Update #2

Periodically, I want to address where my writing is at with prompts and upcoming stories. So here's update #2 of where I'm at and what is coming up over the next few months.

I have been trying to slow down a bit with my writing and that's kind of working, but there are still so many ideas. O_O So yay?!

As always, if you do not see your prompt on this list it doesn't mean it's not happening. This is just where things are presently at, and sometimes opportunities present themselves to bundle prompts together. I have addressed some as drabbles/bullet points (check the Asks Masterlist for these) and may have to do some more like that to keep on top of things. You guys have gone to the trouble of sending me these lovely ideas, I so appreciate it and don't like to keep people hanging.

Finish Snowqueen. That's a given. At this rate, it'll be the longest story of the lot.

Finish? Continue? The Ensemble. Next chapter is very Ellie & Tess with a serving of Lachie to fill a prompt.

The Western AU that literally nobody asked for will be released weekly from next Tuesday.

Early days of the Outbreak with Tommy and Joel. This currently has a five chapter outline. I can't remember who requested this and that makes me hate myself a little so please tell me if it was you so I can gift when the time comes, lol. I think it was you, @bignosebushybrows or @bumblepony ?? This is what happens if it doesn't go on the spreadsheet right away.

This wild card entry. If you know, you know. A four chapter outline.

Tessjoel Boston years + Bill and Frank stuff. Probably a one-shot.

Tessjoel's first physical fight. This is actually partially written; just haven't been able to complete it. A one-shot unless I can ... wait actually I think I can work that into the prompt about the good day in Indy. Which sounds like it won't work, but trust me, it will. Thinking aloud here. Okay, we're good now.

[cinderstorm]

WIP Wednesday: A Tapestry of Stars

Hey, y'all. Here's another tidbit from an upcoming chapter of A Tapestry of Stars (currently updating on Tuesdays. First chapter available here). Enjoy~

On Miresen morning, a week after the fundraiser, he joined Essek in the western tower for breakfast. “I’ve been thinking about what you said, about resuming my education,” he began, carefully folding his a piece of flatbread in half so he wouldn’t have to meet Essek’s eyes while he lied to him.

“Is that so?” Essek asked, ears perking up. “I’m glad to hear it. The next entrance exams won’t be held for another five months—I’m afraid the autumn exams have just wrapped up—but we can start laying the groundwork. Were you planning to go back into neuroscience, or have your passions led you elsewhere?”

“I, ah—I hadn’t thought that far ahead, to be honest,” Caleb admitted, hunching in his chair. “I only thought, perhaps, I might be allowed to tour the conservatory, meet with some of the professors. Get the lay of the land, so to speak.”

A hint of uncertainty crept into Essek’s expression. “If you’re worried you will not be welcome there . . .”

Caleb shook his head. “That’s not it. I’ve poked my nose into many places I was not welcome, and only rarely regretted it. I just . . .” His fingers dug into the crust of his flatbread as he fumbled for something to say. “It’s a little intimidating, I suppose. Returning to academia after so long.”

“Ah.” Essek winced. “Forgive me. I did not mean to pry.” He reached across the table to brush his fingers tentatively over the back of Caleb’s hand.

Caleb set his flatbread down, throat tightening. He’d withheld the details of his time at Soltryce because of his connections to Ikithon, and by extension the Assembly, but the pressure of keeping that bottle corked had only grown as their relationship had progressed. It was foolish to even think about sharing this part of his past, and yet . . .

And yet he wanted Essek to know him—not the persona Caleb had built to lure him in, but the wretched, shameful reality of who he was underneath. Perhaps that would be enough to frighten him away, to make him withdraw the trust he’d placed in Caleb’s hands. Caleb could construct some excuse for Ludinus, extricate himself from this operation before he could burrow any deeper into Essek’s heart. After all, if Essek chose to end this relationship himself, he’d never have to know how grievously Caleb had betrayed him.

“Perhaps I am just getting cold feet,” he said at last, forcing a smile. “The world of academia can be unforgiving [. . .]".