#ta da

[ghosttotheparty]

a mess of holy things (preview) cw: (soft) dom/sub; mentions of god & church; nsfw

“You’ve ruined my spirit,” Steve giggles, dodging Eddie’s hand as it whips out to tap his cheek. “Defiled my soul!”

“Don’t say it like that,” Eddie laughs, snatching a pillow up and hitting Steve with it as Steve laughs, trying to catch it. “Like I’ve corrupted you.”

The word does something to Steve, who falters as he grabs the pillow from Eddie and hits him back. Eddie hides his face, laughing in that way he does, his nose scrunched, eyes squeezed shut. Steve looks at him, hesitating. 

“...What if I’m… Like. Into that?” 

Eddie looks at him, flicking his hair back and raising his eyebrows. Steve’s face flushes with embarrassment, but it fades after a moment when Eddie reaches for the pillow and tosses it aside, pushing Steve back against the armrest of the sofa gently, leaning over him. 

“Well, in that case,” he says slyly, smoothly, leaning down to kiss Steve’s lips chastely. Steve’s chin tilts up, and his eyes flutter for a brief moment. He looks up to find Eddie gazing down at him, eyes shining, lips curved into a small, soft smile, and after another moment Eddie kisses him again, his hand lifting to hold the side of Steve’s face as their lips part. Steve reaches to hold his waist, fingers tightening on the fabric of his shirt.

They’re both panting when they part, lips wet, and Steve opens his eyes to look at him.

“You like that I fucked you up?” Eddie asks softly, and Steve squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, nodding. 

“Yeah,” he says breathlessly. “Yes.”

Eddie smiles at him, caressing his face. 

“I want…” Steve trails off, eyes trained on Eddie’s lips, his heart pounding. Eddie nudges their noses together, still smiling. 

“What do you want, baby boy?” he whispers. “Tell me.”

“I…” Steve shifts, and Eddie lets him sit up, leaning back to sit across from him. Steve looks at the sofa between them, his fingers tangling anxiously. “I want…” He takes a short breath, closing his eyes as he exhales, finding his words. 

“I wanna belong to you,” he says slowly, still looking down, “the way… the— the Church thinks I belong to them.” He pauses, biting his lip, cheeks hot. “That doesn’t make any sense,” he mutters almost to himself, but Eddie interrupts before he can apologize. 

“That makes sense,” he says, his voice light, gentle and quiet. “...Look at me.”

Steve is helpless to obey, lifting his gaze to meet Eddie’s, throat suddenly tight, and Eddie’s expression is soft, head tilted. He reaches out to touch Steve’s cheek, running his fingertips down to his chin to lift it as he leans in to kiss him softly. Steve melts into it, shoulders slumping. 

“You know you don’t have to be ashamed of what you want from me,” Eddie says gently, still holding Steve’s chin. “Right?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve says weakly. Eddie’s smile widens a little. 

“Good boy,” he murmurs. “Now look at me,” he says more firmly. “And tell me what you want.”

His hand falls. 

Steve’s eyes flick back and forth between Eddie’s, and he takes a deep, slow breath, pausing for a moment. His fingers are still tangled in his lap, and he wants to reach out and hold Eddie’s hand, but he can’t make himself reach out to him. 

“I w—” His voice cuts off, and he looks away as he swallows nervously before he meets Eddie’s eyes again. He sees the brief shine of approval in Eddie’s expression, a slight smile and a nod. “I want you to… to remind me that I’m yours.”

He takes another breath, and Eddie waits. 

“And no one else’s,” Steve adds, his voice soft and weak. “…Not even God’s.”

Eddie blinks at him, quiet. 

Steve’s heart is beating so fast it might jump out of his chest, and he can’t really catch his breath, even when he inhales slowly and deeply, it’s like his lungs don’t quite fill all the way. After a moment he realizes Eddie’s eyes are shining like he might start crying, and Steve’s chest tightens even more, aching as he leans a little bit closer, longing to reach out and touch him. 

Eddie beats him to it, hands raising to Steve’s face, holding his cheeks as he leans in and kisses him hard, their mouth crashing together as Steve gasps. It’s a lingering kiss, softening after a moment, and Steve finally touches him, lifting a hand to hold his wrist. 

Eddie presses their foreheads together when they part, breathing hard, and then he lifts his head, looking at Steve. His eyes are still shiny. 

“I want you to go to my room,” he says quietly, firmly, “and get naked. And I want you to wait for me. I’ll be there in a minute, okay?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve breathes, eyes falling to Eddie’s lips as his brain fuzzes. Eddie smiles softly, kissing him again before he lets his hands fall. 

“Go on,” Eddie says, lifting his chin in the direction of the door, and Steve exhales, leaning in to kiss him one more time before he stands shakily and leaves the room. 

His hands shake as he lifts his shirt over his head and folds it before setting it on Eddie’s desk chair. His chest still feels tight, but he can still feel Eddie’s lips on his, Eddie’s hands on his face, Eddie’s whispers ghosting over his skin. And it all makes him feel better. Makes him feel like God isn’t glaring down at him. Makes him feel right. 

He shivers when he’s bare, making sure his clothes stay on the chair before he looks around the room, pausing, unsure of where he should wait. He eyes the bed for a moment; it’s made neatly, the blankets smooth, pillows organized, but after a second his gaze falls to the floor next to it. 

He kneels. 

The wood makes his knees ache, but he sighs in relief, closing his eyes, hands folding over his lap as he waits for Eddie. The skin of his thighs is warmer than his fingertips. 

He opens his eyes when he hears the floor creak outside the bedroom door, a slight shift in weight, and Eddie is coming in, eyes trained on Steve. His hair is tied up now, and his sleeves are pushed up to reveal his inked forearms, and Steve feels his blood rush. Eddie closes the door behind himself like they need privacy from the rest of the apartment, and something about the way he does it makes Steve’s head feel too light for his neck. He exhales slowly, lifting his chin to look up at Eddie as he approaches him. 

Eddie touches his face, holding his chin, sighing softly. 

“Did so well waiting for me,” he murmurs. 

“I like being good for you,” Steve says without thinking, his voice slow and sleepy. Eddie smiles down at him, and then he’s moving down to the floor, kneeling in front of Steve, their knees touching. 

“I know,” he whispers. “‘S why you’re my good boy, right?” Steve is nodding before the last word is even out of Eddie’s mouth, and Eddie’s smile widens, his eyes sparkling. “Always so perfect,” he adds, murmuring, his hands touching Steve’s face. Steve’s eyes close. 

They open when Eddie’s hands disappear from his face, desperately looking for him even though he’s right in front of him. Eddie is pulling off his flannel, eyes downcast, and his shirt rides up his stomach a little bit as he reaches up to set the flannel on the bed. Steve’s eyes get stuck there, gazing at the strip of pale skin, at the whisper of dark hair and the tiny bit of visible ink, and then Eddie’s shirt falls again, hiding it. Steve’s eyes fall to Eddie’s lap, to the bulge under his jeans. His face flushes with heat, with want and something he can’t name. 

He swallows when he finally lifts his gaze to meet Eddie’s. Eddie is looking at him, half-smiling, and Steve feels even more bare than he is. He can’t hide the way Eddie is affecting him, not when he’s naked like this. And Eddie’s eyes keep scanning his body, sliding over his spotted skin like he wants to eat it. (Steve would let him probably. Eddie tends to make him feel a little crazy.) His eyes linger on Steve’s lap, and Steve’s cheeks burn with shame. 

Eddie’s smile grows and he moves close. Reaches to touch Steve’s face with a feather-light touch that makes Steve close his eyes, makes him turn his face into Eddie’s hand. But Eddie’s hand doesn’t linger, slipping over his throat teasingly, over his neck, to the back of his head, where it buries itself in Steve’s hair and tightens. Steve’s breath catches in his throat as Eddie pulls gently. Steve’s vision blurs when he opens his eyes, looking at Eddie’s face longingly as Eddie leans closer.

His voice is quiet, dangerous, tender, when he whispers, his breath on Steve’s face. 

“Do I tempt you, Steve Harrington?”

And Steve nods dumbly, eyes stuck on Eddie’s mouth, lips parted. 

“Yes. I…” He shivers when Eddie traces a line over his jaw with his other hand, then a line on his cheek, connecting two moles that Steve knows are there, that he knows Eddie looks at a lot. “I want you.”

Eddie leans closer, and their lips brush, and Steve keens, closing his eyes as he aches with it, with the desire. It’s in his bones, hot and molten, making him melt against Eddie’s body, falling against his chest, and Steve knows his own heart is pounding, but now he knows Eddie’s is too, and he suppresses a smile when their lips brush again. Eddie’s fingers tighten in his hair. It hurts. But Steve just sighs, lifting his head into Eddie’s hand, and the next words that come from his throat are weak and breathy and fucking desperate.

“I need you.”

-----

Steve is from a small town; less than 3,000 people, and he's been lonely all his life. When he leaves for college, his parents warn him against the heathens of the rest of the world, but his eyes find someone interesting, someone his parents would hate, hide from, pray for. And Steve finds that he can't really bring himself to care what they'd think. As his faith fades, so does his loneliness, and something else takes their place.

permanent taglist: @estrellami-1 @theplantscientist <3 (comment to be added to permanent taglist or taglist for this specific fic when i start posting it)

#ta da #hopefully ill be able to work on this lots even tho im going back to uni soon #im so so so excited ab this fic yall #may take a while #also this may be slightly heavy so there will be content warnings etc but lmk if i need to add any :) #steddie #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #a mess of holy things

[amethyst-crowns]

anyone watch Saltburn?

#the visuals were stunning #and i needed some shading practice so #ta da #steve harrington #steve harrington fanart #i draw things #don’t look at the hands too closely

[arthursfuckinghat]

His back against the earth, cushioned by grass, oh how much Arthur longed for stars above to reach out and ask,

"What do you yearn for?"

He envisions their silent presence, with all burdens they store.

Perhaps they have a haven where his secrets sleep, only to be awoken when the yearning's deep.

But with no stars to ask, his heart remained back, tucked away in the confines of inked pages, bound by leather and secrecy.

𑁦𐂂𑁦

#ta da #brain soup poetry #sort of #something really reaches to me with the fact that arthur isn't strictly religious in any one way but he believes in nature and higher powers #he spends majority of his life outside in forests or plains anywhere #and he always seems to have the best view of the stars #when you find the meteorite site in the forest he writes that it “came from the heavens” #arthur to me is a cosmos in his own #a milky way of brilliant stars #that's the best way I can describe the depth to his character #ahh #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #mick squeaks #arthur morgan #mick thinks

[year2000electronics]

If you can’t make it in Luxgoode’s casinos, most people will tell you it’s time to pack it up and go… but there are some who don’t listen. Every big city has a dark underbelly, and Luxgoode is no exception. It’s a lawless land of people trying to get by in other ways that aren’t gambling. Ring pop salesmen, bounty hunters, you name it… the self-appointed “Queen” of the underbelly is, of course, Barb. Ruthless and wicked, Barb’s a bit of a double-edged sword… she can help you out, so long as you make it worth her while. She’s also the reason JD wears a mask around Luxgoode- she gave him that nasty scar while trying to hunt down his bounty.

#trolls #royal flush au #my art #TA DA

[julesart04]

Jegulus Spiderman kiss!! ☀️✨🕸️

#this was requested a surprising amount on my Instagram #So now it exists #ta da #hope you like it #spiderman james #I love #jegulus #regulus black #james potter #marauders #all the young dudes #fanart #my art #lgbtq

[skyward-floored]

I’m starting in on putting all the hdw au fics on ao3, the first one is up now!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55185907/chapters/139958764

I also gave it a few edits because I couldn’t resist

#hyrule warriors #legend of zelda #hdw au #fic #legend of zelda fanfiction #loz hyrule warriors #loz hw #writing from the floor #ta da #more coming soon

[loganslowdown4]

Logan: There are 10 types of people in the world. Those that understand binary code and those that don’t.

Patton:

Virgil:

Roman:

Patton: Did you just make a joke?

Roman: *starts giggling*

Virgil: *smirks* Didn’t think you had it in you, L.

Logan: Wait, you all understood why it was funny?

Roman: Well yeah, Teach, we understand what binary code is. *keeps smiling at him*

Patton: We’re so proud of you!

Logan: Oh.. uh, thank you. It’s… it’s nice to be understood. *smiles*

Virgil: Wow.

Roman: *whispering* Is this your influence?

Patton: Nope. This is all him. *getting teared up*

#I don’t know how I turned a joke into something so sentimental but #ta da #I’m a sap for familial lamp what can I say #thomas sanders #sanders sides #roman sanders #sander sides #logan sanders #ts roman #patton sanders #incorrect sanders sides #ts logan #Virgil sanders #ts virgil #ts patton #lamp #lamp calm #calm #ts lamp #ts calm #platonic lamp #platonic calm

[ahecenn]

requiem for the living

3.3k words

botl | angst

summary: Percy is alive after Mt St Helens. He and Annabeth talk about it.

“Did you think I was dead?”

“Never.”

“That eulogy said differently.”

He barely heard anything at all. Annabeth was going to say a lot more, though she didn’t know what. Thinking of Percy in the past tense made her stomach twist so uncomfortably that she barely had the first sentence written before she abandoned the speech completely.

read on ao3

#ta da #surprised myself with this one #pjo #percabeth #ao3 #percabeth fanfic #percy x annabeth #annabeth x percy #percabeth fic #percy jackson #annabeth chase #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians #the lovelies #ahecen projects #justice for botl annabeth she did nothing wrong #and neither did percy #both can exist #my stuff

[evilwinterfruit]

With Loki season two coming out, this had to be made. Enjoy Loki with texts from last night.

#loki #loki season 2 #loki text posts #loki incorrect quotes #ta da #pspspsps #trish

[gifs-of-puppets]

Muppets Tonight (1996-1998)

#muppets tonight #seymour and pepe #pepe #pepe the king prawn #seymour #two of a kind #ta da #the muppets #muppet #muppets #gif #muppet gif #muppets gif #gifs of puppets

[birf]

finished my first cosplay I ever made

#ta da #I just gotta dirty it up more and add makeup #resident evil 4 #re4 #re4 remake

[sanctus-ingenium]

You have such an amazing use of linework, how you combine it with color and how you use it ro make wavy and rounded shapes for black to fade in qnd out of is truly inspiring. Ive tried copying the general gist of it but its a hard stylisitc choise to wrap my head around. What do you recomend people who want to ink like you study/do?

my main influence for how i approach that sort of work is Mike Mignola's art (Hellboy etc) so there's a recommendation for you. quick demonstration below the cut

generally what you want to look for is separation of shapes and reducing detail in lineart where it isn't needed, and implying detail using edges of shapes rather than edges of lines. the wavy shapes are basically a fast way to fill area in a way that doesn't rely on me drawing perfect straight or parallel lines or edges, it's a time saving device for me that is kind to the fact that i have a very shaky hand

see:

borrowing lineart from a WIP here. so there's a lot surface detail on the armour and we want to preserve most of it when this is zoomed back out - this is only a small part of the image. if we just colour it in under the lineart, a lot of this detail will be lost or appear confusing, like just a bunch of fine lines

so what we wanna do is reduce the AMOUNT of visible lines without reducing the detail. the shadow and highlight go OVER the lineart. whatever base colour there is goes under. i keep track of the textures too; only the metal surfaces (not leather) get this treatment. but you can see that i reduced the amount of lines by drawing out the important details and hiding everything that is cast in shadow (and you can hide a multitude of sins in that shadow block)

if the whole drawing gets this sort of look, it'll also end up overwhelming and confusing, which is where the biiig black blocks come in

like here i originally detailed in all the feathers and hind legs and shit but the drawing wasn't strong enough and ended up all sort of blurring together so i just blocked those parts in. you don't need a lot of lines to know what's going on, the silhouette carries the rest

for scenes like this, i don't actually separate shapes that have the same value. if i drew in visual distinction between pantera, the ground, and the church, it would just add unnecessary noise and i think take away from the overall impact (as i believe the paler metal tone on his helmet and breastplate do). that's why i never finished this one, i thought that this was as strong as it was going to get and adding more to it would not help. so this is also something to keep in mind - a 'less is more' approach.

#ta da #info asks

[horseshoemybeloved]

……..

And maybe I did see this and then manually add a gradient map to 140 frames/photos

#okay so #screen recorded the video #converted video to gif #imported gif into procreate #manually add a gradient map to all 140 layers #export as mp4 #add prequel blurring and soft filters #export #add capcut crunch old filters #ta da #I have #I have work to do #and yet I’m doing this #fall out boy #fob #edit #joe trohman #patrick stump #tourdust

[ghosttotheparty]

everything you need, anything you want

also on AO3 based on this post

So eighty-six wasn’t his year.

It’s not like Eddie’s never been wrong before.

He lives in the Harrington home. After the “earthquakes,” Steve’s parents move to Norfolk. They leave Steve in Hawkins. Not that he would have gone with them anyway, but an offer would have been nice.

They leave him the house. And enough money to get by. His mother leaves him a kiss on the cheek. He wipes it off when she’s gone.

Eddie stays in the guest room.

Steve’s parents’ old room remains empty, save for a bare mattress, a bed frame, two dressers and his mother’s vanity. Steve contemplates taking it all out back and having a bonfire.

When they found Eddie in the Upside Down, cowering in the shadows, no one thought he was real. Eddie didn’t think they were real either, after all the tricks the Upside Down has played on him. Robin said his name.

He hadn’t used his voice except to scream in the past year, so it was rough and scratchy and dry when he spoke.

You’re real?

They were.

Solid and breathing when they embraced him, and then he was crying, and for some reason it was Steve on the ground with him, his arms around Eddie tightly.

He’d been whispering to Eddie.

I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Eddie, I’m here now, I got you.

As if he’d known at all how much of Eddie’s mind he’d occupied the whole time he struggled to survive. As if he’d known that he was what kept Eddie warm at night. (Or, what Eddie assumes was night. Time seems to move differently in the Upside Down. Simultaneously slower and faster, five years passing in an hour, twenty minutes in three weeks.)

The reunion had to be put on pause. They’ve all gotten too good at stopping their emotions, at shifting gears at the blink of an eye.

It resumed in Steve’s house, late at night, after they’d all nursed their wounds and drank some water and showered off the Upside Down.

Eddie sat on the coffee table. He was wearing Steve’s clothes now, his own too ripped and worn and disgusting. (He threw them into a bag after dressing and told Steve to burn it all. Steve swore he would.) Steve’s sweatpants were warm, soft, and his hoodie was too big, the sleeves hanging down over Eddie’s hands. His hair was wet and cold against his skin, but he couldn’t remember the last time he felt so at ease in his own body.

Except that everyone was staring at him like he was about to explode at any given second. Except Steve. Who looked like he was about to burst into tears.

Dustin spoke first.

You died. I— I watched you die, I heard you stop breathing.

Eddie gripped the ends of the hoodie sleeves tightly.

I know.

Did you not? Robin had asked weakly, like she was going to be sick. Did we just…

No, I did.

He did.

He doesn’t know how he knows, but he knows.

I died, but then I just…

All their eyes were wide. Confused. Sitting in an awful fucking silence that made Eddie want to rip his skin off.

I’m not the same. As I was. There’s something… Off about me.

What is it? Nancy asked. Her voice was quiet, almost just a breath but still audible in the silence.

He had squeezed his eyes shut, his legs drawn to his chest. How the fuck was he supposed to explain it? That he wasn’t quite human anymore? That he could smell all their blood, and then he wanted to consume it? That he was fucking starving?

He just shook his head, shivering, letting his head fall to his knees, and then Steve was touching him, sliding his hand over Eddie’s back in front of everything. Eddie could feel the heat of his skin through the hoodie. He spoke to the floor without lifting his head.

I’m a fucking vampire or something.

And the room was silent, until Nancy spoke again.

Explain?

So he explained.

It’s all fucking insane, but Eddie guesses in the grand scheme of things nothing is fucking insane anymore.

Steve stayed close to him the whole time, his hand on Eddie’s back, and after a while, Eddie reached for his other hand, taking it as he spoke. No one said anything about the way he held it for the rest of the time they were in the living room, playing with Steve’s fingers as he talked about the place he already knew he’d have nightmares about.

He stayed in Steve’s room that night. Neither of them said anything as they found their way toward each other, as Eddie held onto Steve’s arm, as Steve slowly pulled away so he could wrap his arm around Eddie, pull him against his chest.

I’m sorry, Eddie. I—I wanted to bring you back, but— but the gate was—

I know, Steve. ‘S okay.

It was probably better that he didn’t wake up in some morgue in town or something. Better that no one else (especially Steve) had to witness him discover that he’s not human, had to witness him learn how to kill creatures just to drink the blood from their still-warm bodies.

He woke up the next morning with his head on Steve’s chest. He could hear his heartbeat. Steve was playing with his hair, combing through his hair and untangling his curls gently. Eddie could hear some noise downstairs, clattering in the kitchen, steps in the hallway. And it was warm.

It was so, so warm.

There were tears on his skin before he even processed his eyes burning. He squeezes his eyes shut, turning his face into Steve’s chest, and tried not to cry, but Steve could feel him shaking, could hear his soft breaths, and Steve slowly sat up, holding Eddie to himself.

It’s okay.

Eddie clutched at him. Gripped his shirt in tight fists, hid his face in his neck.

He sobbed.

Steve was crying too, his arms tight and firm around Eddie, listening and understand him even though his voice was cracking and weak.

It was so cold, Stevie, it was so— it was so cold.

You don’t have to be cold anymore, Eddie.

The sun was shining brightly in Steve’s room. Eddie could feel it on his skin. He’d missed the sun.

They spent almost the whole morning in bed, even though they can hear the others downstairs. Steve kept his arms around Eddie the whole time, until they both stopped crying, until Eddie just sat next to him, leaning against him. Eddie looks at home. Gazed at him. The sunlight hit his eyes in a way that made them glow, and his hair in a way that made strands of it look like golden thread. His eyelashes were clumped together with tears, and Eddie remembered why he always thought Steve had princess eyes.

Steve’s hair was longer than it was when Eddie died. Overgrown carelessly and pushed back, and Eddie’s eyes got caught before he reached up and pushed it up from where it had fallen over his ears. The side of his head was shaved.

Eddie’s eyes widened, and Steve was laughing even before Eddie was sitting up and manhandling Steve’s head to check the other side.

You cut your hair?

Yeah, I… I wanted something different.

…It suits you.

You think?

Eddie nodded. Ran a hand under the overgrown hair and over the shaved part, watched as Steve tilted his head up into the touch. They were quiet for a moment before Steve spoke again.

When my parents left, I… I kinda started acting out. They always cared about keeping appearances, so I… I don’t know. Kinda weird to have a rebellious phase at twenty one.

Is that why your walls look like Polluck paintings and the rest of house looks like a museum?

Robin helped.

I assumed.

Eddie had continued petting his hair. Steve had seemed to like it.

What else?

I, uhm. …You’re gonna laugh.

I won’t laugh.

Even if you say you won’t, you’re gonna.

Okay, I might, doesn’t matter. Tell me.

I… I started listening to, like. Metal and stuff.

Eddie laughed. Steve hit his chest.

How’d that happen?

…I missed you.

That had hurt.

Eddie exhaled and his hand fell from where it was pressed into Steve’s hair, falling to rest on his neck. He could feel Steve’s pulse. He wanted to sink his teeth into it. He ignored the desire.

I, uhm… I remembered you mentioned Ozzy, so I went to a music store and asked about it, and…

You like it?

It keeps my head quiet.

Steve had directed him to the other side of his room, where his tapes and records were. Eddie looked through them while Steve watched. Ozzy, Metallica, Dio, Motörhead, Twisted Sister. Eddie’s face had hurt. He hadn’t smiled in a long time.

I kept your vest.

You did?

Yeah. Wore it sometimes when I missed you more than usual.

Eddie wanted to cry again.

Got some t-shirts and shit you might like.

Can I look?

‘Course.

Eddie looked. Carefully rifled through Steve’s shirt drawer. Looked at the worn, probably second-hand t-shirts. Grinned at the Judas Priest shirt and the AC/DC shirt.

You’re a regular punk, aren’t you, Stevie?

Maybe a little. …Maybe more than a little.

What’s that mean?

Steve paused, his cheeks flushing prettily as he shrugged. Eddie just raised his eyebrows, and Steve stared, his jaw working for a moment before he opened his mouth to reveal a metal stud at the centre of his tongue.

Eddie let out a loud What? and rushed across the room to see, dropping the AC/DC shirt, and Steve laughed. Eddie landed on the bed next to him, on his knees, and grabbed Steve’s chin.

Open up. Let me see.

He repressed the urge to tell him what a good boy he was when Steve immediately followed directions. The stud was black, shining. Eddie wanted to touch it. He wanted to spit on it.

Did it hurt?

They shoved a needle through my tongue, Eddie. Yeah, it hurt.

Alright, attitude. Very metal, Stevie.

Thanks.

So that was that.

Neither of them are the same anymore. Eddie’s teeth are a little sharper, his skin a little colder. Steve is a little more rough around the edges.

They figure everything out. It takes some time, but everything gets sorted. The fridge in the garage is stocked with blood at all times for nights that Eddie can’t go out and catch squirrels or deer. They sleep in separate rooms, but immediately find each other in the morning. Eddie leans on Steve’s back while Steve makes coffee in the kitchen. They sit with their legs locked between them under the table. Steve puts his hand on Eddie’s leg while they watch TV or movies together.

Eddie always ends up pulling Steve against himself. Steve always ends up falling asleep.

Steve doesn’t sleep often.

Eddie knows he doesn’t sleep much at night. He doesn’t either, plagued by nights and memories, staring at the ceiling in the dim light of a lamp that sits on the floor.

Steve leaves his bathroom light on night. When Eddie leaves his room to get water he can see the glow of it under Steve’s door, and he wonders what he thinks about late at night. If he stares at the the ceiling like Eddie does. If he sleeps with his blankets wrapped around him tightly. If he gets cold too.

•••••••••••••••Eddie rolls onto his side and pulls his blanket around him tighter. All of his bedding smells like the rest of the house, almost like Steve but not quite. (Steve smells better.)

Eddie hates nighttime. He likes that it’s quiet, that it’s calm, that nothing is really expected of him, but it’s too dark. Darkness is suffocating. Even with a lamp on.

He looks across the room when there’s a shuffle in the hall, looking over his shoulder. He holds his breath.

After a few moments there’s a soft knock on his door.

“Steve?” Eddie says quietly, and the door opens slowly. Steve is still holding the doorknob, his eyes shining, and he looks so tiny it makes Eddie ache. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” Steve pauses, blinking at him and taking a breath. He’s wearing a Judas Priest shirt and some shorts, his hair tousled, looking sleepy and pretty. He also looks like he’s going to cry, which Eddie hates, but can’t deny that it also looks pretty. “Are you okay?”

Eddie blinks at him.

“I’m fine,” he says quietly. “Are you? What’s happening?”

Steve continues to stare at him, his eyes tracing him almost desperately.

“I just— I had…”

He’s breathing hard, like he’s been running.

“You had a nightmare?” Eddie asks softly. Steve nods. Eddie pauses, looking at the anxious shine of his eyes, at the way his hands are trembling. “You wanna come over here?”

Steve just steps inside and shuts the door wordlessly, using both hands to make it quiet, like they’re keeping it a secret from the rest of the house. (Which feels like it’s watching them sometimes, if Eddie is honest.)

He sits on the edge of Eddie’s bed, facing the wall, his eyes blankly tracing the posters pinned to the wall. Eddie moves closer to him, watching his chest rise and fall quickly.

“Steve,” he says, sitting cross-legged, facing him. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“You were gone,” Steve says quietly, his voice breathy and rough. “We— We were in the Upside Down, and we found—“ he cuts off, taking a small gasp, and Eddie leans closer, placing his hand on Steve’s back gently. Steve squeezes his eyes shut, his breath stuttering in his chest. “We found your body.”

“Steve,” Eddie breathes, running his hand over his back, catching the folds of the thin fabric of his shirt. “I’m right here.”

Steve squeezes his eyes shut, and Eddie’s chest clenches. He moves closer, carefully pushing his hand up Steve’s neck into his hair to run over the shaved part, furrowing his brows with Steve takes a gasping, stuttering breath.

“Hey,” Eddie says softly. “Stevie.” Steve opens his eyes, his expression so pained it makes Eddie’s bones ache. “I’m okay, sweetheart.”

“You died, Eddie,” Steve says weakly. “You were dead, you…”

“I’m alive, Stevie,” Eddie whispers, running his fingers through his hair. Steve just whines, his eyes closing as tears fall. “Hey, I got a heartbeat,” Eddie says quietly. Steve’s eyes open. “You wanna feel it?”

Steve takes a breath, turning to look at him, and he nods.

“Come here, gimme your hand.” He takes Steve’s trembling hand, pulls it toward himself so Steve shifts to face him, and presses it to his own chest, his fingers holding Steve’s hand tightly. He takes a deep breath, and Steve’s eyes watch his chest rise and fall.

“You feel it?” Eddie asks softly after a few moments, when Steve’s breath has slowed, and Steve’s hand presses harder, his lips pursing as he frowns, almost pouting, and Eddie tilts his head fondly, almost smiling. Steve’s hand slides up after a moment, over the collar of Eddie’s sweater, until it’s sliding over Eddie’s neck.

Eddie’s breath catches in his throat when Steve’s fingers wrap around it, his fingertips pressing into his skin tightly. Steve is still panting, his eyelids fluttering. It takes a moment for Eddie to realise Steve’s fingers are pressing into his pulse.

Steve nods, closing his eyes, breathless.

“I feel it.”

Eddie nods. He can’t breathe. Steve’s hand is hot against Eddie’s skin, holding him tightly.

“I’m okay, Stevie,” Eddie murmurs, sliding his hand to rest on the side of Steve’s neck. Steve exhales shakily, his fingers tightening, and Eddie thinks he might pass out. His lips part, and his eyes flutter closed before he reaches for Steve’s wrist.

“Steve, you gotta stop.”

Steve’s eyes open and he looks up at Eddie, hurt snd worry shining in his eyes.

“‘S just—“ Eddie tries to fix, squeezing his wrist. “It— This… feels good.”

Steve’s eyes are glazed over, and his fingers shift. He doesn’t let go. His voice is slurred when he speaks.

“If it feels good, why would I stop?”

Eddie’s mouth goes dry.

“Just…” He squeezes Steve’s wrist again, tugs it away. “You had a nightmare, Stevie, you need…”

“Need this,” Steve mumbles, twisting his hand to hold Eddie’s. “Please, Eddie.”

Eddie’s eyes flick back and forth between Steve’s, like he’s trying to see into him.

“I just—“ Steve cuts off, his eyelashes fluttering as his eyes shine with unshed tears again. “I just wanna feel your heartbeat, Eddie, please.”

“Okay,” Eddie breathes. Steve exhales as if in relief, his hand finding Eddie’s neck again, and Eddie wants to cry. “C’mere.”

Steve crawls closer, moving so he can lay against Eddie heavily, taking a shuddering breath.

“I got you,” Eddie murmurs softly, wrapping an arm around him and laying down, pulling Steve with him so he lands on top of Eddie, his head on Eddie’s shoulder. Steve giggles softly, his hand tightening on Eddie’s neck, and Eddie exhales sharply, closing his eyes.

“Are you still gonna be here in the morning?” Steve’s voice says quietly.

Eddie pulls him in tighter. He could be sarcastic. That they’re in his room, that he doesn’t have anywhere else to go. But Steve’s voice is so soft, so small and vulnerable, that he can’t.

“Of course.”

•••••••••••••••The others notice it too, that Steve isn’t entirely okay.

Steve insists he’s fine, that everything is under control.

Eddie does what he can to help, cooks and cleans and does everything he can to make sure Steve can relax at home, but it doesn’t really seem to help at all. Steve is always tense, fidgeting anxiously, picking at his skin and lips and nails until he’s bleeding. Eddie reaches over to take his hand, holding it gently to stop him.

Even Robin does it, laying across his lap and holding his hands in her own while they talk.

Eddie’s heart hurts. The skin around some of Steve’s nails is red and raw, his lips cracked.

“I’m just saying, Steve, maybe you should take a break,” Nancy says, watching him cross the room. He’s chewing on a nail, looking at her.

“From what?”

“Steve,” Eddie says softly. Steve shrugs at him, and Jonathan lowers his head to his knees. “Come on—“ He cuts off with a soft breath, stopping himself from saying sweetheart in front of everyone. Argyle looks at him. He can probably tell.

“You just gotta relax, man,” Argyle says, looking away from Eddie. “Smoke some weed or something.”

“I can’t walk around high twenty four-seven,” Steve says, frustrated. “I have— responsibilities, I gotta— I gotta take care of the kids, I’m…”

“Stevie,” Robin says, sitting up from where she’s laying on Eddie’s lap. “We don’t mean to move to Florida or something permanently, just… relax.”

“I’ve tried,” Steve says adamantly. He’s pacing. “I’ve— I’ve smoked, I’ve tried fucking reading books, and listening to music, and I’m—“ Steve cuts off, tossing his hands.

“I can try something,” Eddie says before he can even think, and everyone looks at him. His face burns.

“What?” Steve asks quietly, biting his nail again.

“I…” He looks up at Steve from the sofa, ignoring the others’ stares, and he takes a deep breath. “It’s gonna sound fucked, but there’s… this thing I do when I hunt, that’s…” Steve is staring at him intensely, his eyes shining. “It’s like putting them in a trance, it… calms them down.”

“Like hypnotising them?” Nancy says, and Eddie looks at her. Steve keeps staring at Eddie.

“I guess, but it’s—“ He rubs his cheek anxiously. “It doesn’t have to be weird. It just calms them down so they don’t run away, and it kinda makes me feel better because they’re not scared when they die, but, I mean… Obviously I’m not gonna kill you,” he adds, looking at Steve again, who stares. “But it might… help.”

“Okay.”

Eddie blinks.

“Okay?”

“Yes,” Steve says almost breathlessly. Eddie’s eyes look back and forth between Steve’s. “Please.”

“…Okay,” Eddie says softly. “Uhm.”

He stands slowly, standing in front of Steve, his cheeks hot as everyone stares. Steve’s hand lowers from his mouth, and he looks at Eddie anxiously. He looks the same way he looked when he spent the night with Eddie: small and vulnerable and scared, and Eddie’s chest hurts.

“If you… change your mind,” Eddie says softly. “Tell me. Okay?”

“Okay,” Steve breathes.

“Okay.”

Eddie takes a deep breath.

“…Relax, Steve.”

Steve’s eyes flutter shut, and his shoulders slump, and then he’s falling.

“Woah.” Eddie catches him as the others shout, and he falls to his knees, holding Steve, looking at his face desperately. “Steve?”

“Oh my god,” Nancy says, standing as Argyle sits up.

Steve exhales heavily, his head rolling as Eddie tugs him carefully into his lap. Robin kneels next to Steve, touching his face worriedly, saying his name.

“Stevie?” Eddie says softly as Nancy and Jonathan look over his shoulder.

“‘M fine,” Steve mumbles without opening his eyes.

“Steve,” Eddie says, finding his hand and holding it. “Can you open your eyes?”

Steve lets out a soft noise that makes Eddie’s breath catch in his throat.

“Steve, open your eyes.”

Steve’s eyes open, and it takes a moment for them to find Eddie above him. They’re glassy and glazed over.

“You okay?” Eddie asks softly.

“Yeah,” Steve breathes. “Feel good.”

“I feel like we shouldn’t be here anymore,” Robin says quietly, looking up at Nancy, who frowns with a soft, “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Argyle agrees. “He’s, like, super vulnerable right now.”

“Yeah, we should go,” Jonathan says when Steve blinks blearily up at Eddie, his fingers shifting on Eddie’s.

“Okay,” Eddie says softly, gazing down at him. Robin gets up and leans down to rustle Eddie’s hair affectionately.

“Take care of him, Eds.”

“‘Course.”

They all leave quietly, Jonathan and Argyle patting Eddie’s back gently as they pass.

“You feel okay, Stevie?” Eddie murmurs when they’re gone. Steve hums a soft mhmm. “Use your words, honey.”

Steve swallows, taking a breath, looking at Eddie with glassy eyes.

“I feel okay.”

“Yeah?”

“I feel so okay.”

Eddie smiles softly, letting go of Steve’s hand and reaching to gently push his hair back.

Steve’s eyes close again, and he’s smiling, his face more relaxed than Eddie’s ever seen him. He traces his fingertips over Steve’s face, over his eyebrows and cheekbones and jawline and the bridge of his nose and his lips. Steve’s lips part as Eddie’s fingertip is trailing over them, and Eddie scoffs, moving to hold his chin.

“You wanna stay here for a while?”

“Please.”

“Can I lay down with you?”

“Mm.”

Eddie moves, letting Steve lift his head off his lap so he can shift to lay on the floor next to him, his arm bent under his head.

“Hi.”

Steve just exhales, blinking at him, smiling softly.

“‘S it okay if I touch you?” Steve lets out a short hum. “Words, sweetheart.”

“Touch me,” Steve breathes. “Please.”

“I got you,” Eddie whispers, moving closer. He reaches out and touches Steve’s face again, watching his eyes flutter shut as he trails his fingertips over his cheek. “Pretty boy.”

He waits for a moment, pushing Steve’s hair back, petting the shaved part gently.

“Can you tell me how you’re feeling?”

Steve doesn’t say anything, just exhaling and tilting his head so it presses into Eddie’s hand.

“Steve,” Eddie says softly, hesitating. “Tell me how you’re feeling.”

“So good,” Steve says softly. “‘S so quiet.”

“What is?”

“…My head.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm.” It almost sounds like a moan. “Wanna stay here.”

“Where?” Eddie whispers.

“The clouds.”

Eddie can’t fight his smile, and he carefully drags his nails over Steve’s skin, watching Steve shiver.

“You can stay here for a while.”

Steve closes his eyes.

Eddie can tell that he’s not asleep. He knows what Steve’s breathing sounds like when he’s sleeping, which maybe could be weird, but he doesn’t worry about it.

He keeps trailing his fingers over his hair lightly, gazing at him, tracing his moles with his eyes like he’s stargazing.

He lets him float. Waits for him.

Until Steve sighs, and slowly opens his eyes, blinking at Eddie like he’s waking up.

“Welcome back,” Eddie says quietly.

“Sorry,” Steve says.

“Don’t apologize,” Eddie whispers. “Was it nice?”

“Yes,” Steve says without hesitation. “I liked it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” Steve looks like he might cry.

“We can do it again sometime.”

“Can we?”

“Yeah, Stevie.”

“Okay.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Where are the others?”

“They left a little while ago,” Eddie says quietly. “Wanted to give you some privacy.”

“Oh.”

Steve closes his eyes again. Presses his hand up against Eddie’s, holding it to himself.

“Are you comfortable here?” Eddie asks softly. “The floor isn’t too bad?”

“No, ‘s fine.”

“You wanna…” Eddie pauses. “You wanna come closer?”

Steve smiles, and he moves closer, sighing as Eddie lifts his arm to set around him. He tucks his face into Eddie’s neck, and Eddie almost shivers when he feels Steve’s breath on his skin.

“Thank you,” Steve murmurs. “Thank you, Eddie.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

“Like it when you call me that.”

“‘S good, I like calling you that.”

Steve nuzzles into his neck, his hands tucking against Eddie’s chest.

•••••••••••••••They talk about it the next day. Eddie asks if it was okay. If he took anything too far, if Steve was uncomfortable with anything. Steve just smiles. And hugs him.

Tell him that it was perfect, Eds.

They don’t talk about it again.

They don’t really need to.

The others seem to just pick up on it, how something has shifted between them, without anyone saying anything about it. Steve sits closer to Eddie than he used to, leans against him and holds his hand wordlessly, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. The others all see it. Eddie’s face flushes with heat every time.

He’s started kissing him. His cheeks, his forehead, the top of his head, every time Steve floats away, every time he rests against Eddie and hides his face in Eddie’s neck. It makes Steve smile. The first time Eddie does it, he tucks Steve’s hair back and presses his lips to his cheek, just under his eye, and Steve’s face turns pink even though his eyes are glazed over and he’s swaying.

So Eddie does it every chance he gets. Of course.

He’s not sure what they are.

Eddie’s never even come out to him, and Steve’s never mentioned liking men, but somehow Eddie doesn’t worry about it.

They sleep together more often than not, usually in Steve’s room. Eddie steals Steve’s clothes to wear during the day while he’s gone, and Steve sleeps in Eddie’s t-shirts and sweaters. He leans against Eddie’s back while Eddie plays guitar, humming along, listening.

It seems to get easier for Steve.

It makes Eddie happy, getting to see him relax, getting to see him smile and sigh and laugh at Eddie’s stupid jokes and puns. He still has days, days where he just comes home and curls up on the sofa, hiding his face and staying silent when Eddie tries to talk to him. And he has other days where he comes home and just won’t stop, cleaning and cooking and rambling until Eddie stops him.

Sometimes while he’s floating he holds Eddie’s neck, feeling his heartbeat. It’s nice.

•••••••••••••••“Hey, sweetheart.”

Steve just responds w a soft groan, falling against Eddie’s back. Eddie laughs lightly, looking over his shoulder, pausing with the dishes.

“Long day?”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna tell me about it?”

Steve is quiet for a moment before he sighs, and his arms wrap around Eddie’s torso. It makes Eddie’s cheeks heat up.

“Scars have been hurting all day.” He presses his face to Eddie’s shoulder, squeezes, squishing his cheek and muffling his voice. “‘Nd my head hurt for a while at work, ‘n just… nothing was working for me. ‘M tired.”

Eddie finishes with the dishes, leaving a pot full of water so he doesn’t jostle Steve while he cleans it, and he shuts the water off, reaching for the dish towel and drying his hands before he turns around.

Steve hugs him before he can say anything, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s neck and pulling him close, and Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, hugging him back tightly. Steve slumps against him. Eddie kisses his temple.

“Alright?”

“Can you put me under?” Steve asks softly, lifting his head.

Eddie kisses his cheek.

“‘Course. Want you to eat some dinner first, though.”

“Okay.”

They eat together at the table, D&D materials pushed out of the way for their plates. Steve tells him more about his day. Eddie admires him across the table. He sits with his legs crossed on his chair, leaning over them so he doesn’t spill anything. (Steve once said he was never allowed to sit like this as a kid.)

Steve changes while Eddie finishes cleaning up. He wants to help, but Eddie refuses to let him.

“How do you wanna do it?” Eddie asks when he’s finished, when Steve is back, wearing a pair of cut-off shorts and a Sabbath shirt that Eddie thinks might be his.

“Wanna sit on your lap,” Steve says, his voice already a little slurred. Eddie grins.

“Sofa?”

“Mm.”

Eddie leads him to the living room, their fingers hooked together. Steve gently pushes Eddie to the sofa, and Eddie looks up at him, smiling, but Steve doesn’t sit across his lap the way Eddie expects. Instead, he lowers himself to Eddie’s lap with his knees on either side of his hips. Eddie’s cheeks flush with heat.

“Hi,” Eddie says softly as Steve settles, setting his hands on Steve’s hips gently.

“Hi.”

“This okay?”

Steve’s hands find their places on Eddie’s shoulders, holding him.

“…Take a deep breath for me..” Steve’s eyes flutter shut for a moment as he inhales, his hands loosening on Eddie’s shoulders. “Good boy, one more.”

Steve smiles as he does it again, his cheeks pink.

“There you go,” Eddie murmurs, his thumbs brushing back and forth over his hips. “Do your scars still hurt?”

There’s a moment before Steve shakes his head.

“Your head?”

Another shake.

“Everything’s okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs, his eyes half shut. “I feel good.”

Eddie smiles, tilting his head so he can press a kiss to Steve’s wrist.

“Can I do something?” Steve asks quietly, his eyes glazed.

“Anything.”

Steve smiles softly, his hand sliding from Eddie’s shoulder to his neck, where his fingers wrap gently around his throat. Eddie inhales, his head falling back. Steve’s smile grows, and his fingers tighten.

Eddie’s hands grip Steve’s hips, his eyes locked with Steve’s, and Steve releases him, watching him intently.

“Does that feel good?” he asks quietly, his voice soft.

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes. “It feels good.”

Steve smiles brightly, his fingers tightening again. Eddie exhales sharply, smiling.

“Thought I was supposed to be putting you under,” he mutters. Steve giggles, shifting closer, his fingers loosening, and Eddie bites his lip as heat flushes his cheeks. “What are you smiling at?”

“I can feel your heartbeat.”

“Ah.” He swallows, feeling Steve’s fingers press and rub at his neck. “So you know I’m dying.”

Steve just grins lazily at him, tilting his head almost curiously, his fingers lifting to trace Eddie’s jaw lightly. Eddie slides his hands up his waist, catching the thin fabric of Steve’s (Eddie’s? Their wardrobes are starting to combine.) shirt, and Steve hums.

“Alright?” Eddie asks softly. Steve nods, his eyes closing.

“Your hands feel…”

Eddie hums questioningly, squeezing gently as Steve puts his hand back on his throat, his other hand holding the side of his neck lightly, his fingertips in Eddie’s hair.

“Good.”

He squeezes, and Eddie’s breath catches in his throat. He closes his eyes.

He can hear his own heart pounding, can hear Steve’s soft breaths. Steve is heavy on his lap, his weight almost grounding as Eddie’s head fills with clouds. A soft noise escapes Eddie, a weak choked off moan, and Steve giggles again.

And then he’s kissing him, and Eddie thinks he might die.

He doesn’t even open his eyes, just exhales and reaches up to push his fingers into Steve’s soft hair. His head tilts, and his other hand tightens on Steve’s waist, but just as his lips begin to part, Steve pulls away sharply.

Eddie’s eyes flutter open, and he looks up at him to find him wide-eyed and red-faced.

“‘S wrong?” Eddie asks softly, his hand shifting to Steve’s cheek.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, his voice heavy. “I didn’t ask, I—“

“It’s okay,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “You don’t have to ask, it’s okay.”

Steve blinks at him, looking like he might cry, and Eddie’s chest tightens.

“You can kiss me,” he breathes. “If you want.”

“I can?” Steve asks in a small voice. Eddie nods, smiling.

Steve stares, his eyes flicking back and forth between Eddie’s, and Eddie exhales, leaning up and lifting his chin to kiss him softly. Steve’s breath stutters in his chest, and Eddie holds his face, pulling him closer.

Steve’s arms wrap around Eddie’s neck, and he raises up on his knees as he kisses back desperately, and Eddie’s whole body aches. Eddie’s lips part as he grins, and Steve’s tongue slides between them, tracing his teeth. Eddie clutches at him, his hands gripping his t-shirt and his hips before they find his thighs, squeezing and slipping under the hem of his shorts.

Steve pulls away for a gasp of air, tilting his head and kissing him again so hard their teeth clash. Eddie’s brows furrow, and he sits up straight, his head falling back.

Steve lowers back down to Eddie’s lap, and one of Eddie’s hands slides to the small of his back, tugging him closer as Steve’s teeth catch Eddie’s lip. A whimper escapes Eddie, and his face burns.

One of Steve’s hands slides into Eddie’s hair, gripping it like he’s holding Eddie in place, and Eddie exhales sharply, his jaw dropping enough for Steve to lick into his mouth.

“Oh, shit,” Eddie gasps. His voice is embarrassingly high, breathy and soft, and Steve pulls away. His eyes are shining, his lips red.

“What?”

“I, uhm.” Eddie closes his eyes, breathing hard. “I forgot about your piercing.”

“Oh.” Steve pauses, holding Eddie’s head in his hands. “Should I take it out?”

“No,” Eddie says quickly. “No, don’t, it’s… It’s nice.”

“Oh,” Steve says again. “Okay.”

“Come here.”

Steve kisses him again, catching Eddie’s lip between his own for a moment before he pulls away and looks at him. Eddie encourages him with a gentle tug at his back, and Steve leans back down again.

Eddie relaxes against the sofa when Steve’s hand finds his neck again. He isn’t squeezing, isn’t choking, just holding him almost mindlessly, like it’s where his hand belongs.

Eddie’s brows furrow again, listening to the soft sounds of Steve sucking on his lip, the soft sounds that escape Steve’s throat. He’s almost shivering, chills hovering over his skin like there’s static in the air, and he’s breathing so hard he might start hyperventilating.

“Stevie,” he chokes when Steve releases his lip. (It’s sore. Eddie loves it.) Steve just whines in response, squeezing his neck gently. “I…” He stares, his eyes burning as he looks at Steve’s flushed cheeks, his shiny lips.

“Eddie, please,” Steve chokes, taking short, stuttering breathes. His eyes are glistening with unshed tears.

“‘S okay,” Eddie breathes, lifting a hand to Steve’s head, pushing his fingers into his hair. “I got you.”

“Please,” Steve whimpers. “Please, please, Eddie, please, I—“

“C’mere,” Eddie mutters, pulling him down and kissing him desperately, biting his lip. “It’s okay, baby, I got you.”

“Please—“ Steve whimpers, his fingers tightening on Eddie’s neck, and Eddie gasps. “Please, I need—“

“Take it,” Eddie says breathlessly, squeezing his leg and letting his head fall back as Steve leans close enough that Eddie is swallowing his breath. “Take what you need, baby, it’s okay.”

He expects Steve to start rolling his hips, or to tear his or Eddie’s shirt off, or to lean in and slide his tongue back into Eddie’s shirt, but Steve just squeezes his neck, leaning down to press their foreheads together.

“Deep breath, sweetheart.”

Steve inhales deeply, his other hand holding the back of Eddie’s head gently, his fingers wound in his curls.

“I got you,” Eddie murmurs. “It’s okay.”

“My parents—“ Steve starts, taking a short breath. Eddie rubs his leg gently, his other hand pressed firmly against his back. “My parents always talked about— about queers.”

Eddie looks into his eyes. They’re swimming with tears.

“About how—“ He cuts off to swallow. “How disgusting they are, and how— how sinful they are, and—“

“Steve,” Eddie whispers. He’s heard the same things. Of course he has. He’s never understood it.

How somehow could hate something as beautiful as love.

“But this…” Steve holds Eddie’s face between his hands. He wipes a tear that Eddie didn’t notice falling from his eye. “I’ve never felt like— like there’s anything wrong with this.”

“There isn’t,” Eddie chokes. “There’s nothing wrong with this, baby.” Steve exhales, his thumbs brushing over Eddie’s cheeks. “Come here.”

Steve leans in and kisses him softly before he pulls away just enough that their lips brush when he whispers.

“I love you.”

Eddie’s eyes open slowly, and pulls away to look at him, his hands holding him.

“…Really?”

Steve swallows, his hands falling to hold the collar of Eddie’s shirt, resting on his shoulders, and he nods. Eddie blinks tears back, letting out a soft laugh.

“Oh.”

Steve hesitates, holding onto Eddie’s shirt, looking across his face.

“Is that okay?”

Eddie laughs again, a tear falling from his eye, and he nods.

“Yeah,” he says weakly. “Yeah, it’s okay, Stevie, oh my god.”

“Oh,” Steve says, relaxing, smiling. “Okay.”

“I love you too,” Eddie says, his chest tight, sliding a hand up to hold the side of Steve’s neck, his thumb resting on his jaw.

“Oh,” Steve says lightly. “That’s…”

Eddie laughs softly, leaning in and letting his head fall against Steve’s chest.

“Eddie,” Steve whispers, tugging his hair gently. Eddie hums softly, pressing his hand against the small of his back. “Wanna kiss.”

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, holding his tighter, and he lifts his head, pressing kisses to Steve’s neck. He can hear his heartbeat, can smell his blood beneath his skin, can almost taste it as he drags his tongue over his pulse.

Steve whimpers, his hand tightening his Eddie’s hair, and then he tugs sharply, pulling Eddie away and leaning down to kiss him so hard it almost hurts.

Eddie groans quietly, slipping his hand under Steve’s shirt to the warmth of his skin, and Steve licks Eddie’s mouth open, breathing hard. Eddie shivers when their tongues slide together, and Steve grins, sliding a hand to Eddie’s throat.

He squeezes gently when he sucks on Eddie’s tongue, and Eddie thinks he might die, letting out a strangled whimper at the pressure, at the smooth slide of the metal stud of Steve’s piercing against the underside of his tongue. There’s a string of spit connecting them when he pulls away, and Eddie is panting, and Steve is grinning.

“Christ, Steve.”

Steve giggles softly, tears still in his eyes, and his fingers tighten gently. Eddie takes a breath, his head falling back.

“Okay?” Steve asks softly.

“Harder.”

Steve squeezes harder, his head tilting curiously as Eddie’s breath catches and he whimpers, letting his eyes close. Steve’s hand is warm, but Eddie shivers anyway. He taps Steve’s back gently after a few moments, and Steve releases him.

“God.”

Steve smiles, his finger brushing up and down his neck so gently it almost tickles.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs.

Eddie is breathing hard, his eyes still closed, and Steve leans down to kiss him, licking into his mouth and sucking on his lip even though Eddie can’t kiss back.

Steve drags his lips across Eddie’s cheek, trailing wet kisses over his skin, until he’s kissing his jaw and just under his ear.

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes, tilting his head, listening to the wet sounds of Steve’s lips on his skin. He rubs his hand across the small of Steve’s back. Steve hums softly, his lips finding Eddie’s earlobe.

“Should get your ears pierced,” Steve whispers, his breath against Eddie’s skin, and Eddie shivers again, chills running down his spine.

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm.” He sucks on his earlobe softly, his piercing running across it, and Eddie bites his lip, furrowing his brows. “Would sound so pretty, don’t you think?”

Eddie agrees, tensing as he imagines the soft clicking of Steve’s tongue stud against his earring.

“Shit.” He can feel Steve smile against his skin. “How do you know me so well?” he wonders out loud, his head tilting so Steve can kiss down his neck sloppily, leaving spit and bruises in his path. “Like you know every fuckin’ button I have.”

“Because I’m in love with you.”

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut as they burn, and Steve’s teeth close on his skin gently, nibbling between puffs of hot breath. Eddie slides a hand into Steve’s hair, holding the back of his head gently.

“‘M in love with you too,” Eddie murmurs.

“Fuck.”

Steve licks across his neck, dragging his piercing over his skin, sucking a bruise into his skin before he pulls away and tilts his head to switch sides.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie sighs, his hand slipping to Steve’s hip and pulling him closer. Steve hums softly, his teeth digging into Eddie’s skin.

When he’s satisfied, he pulls away, admiring his work, tracing the bruises with a light finger before he falls forward and his forehead presses to Eddie’s.

Eddie closes his eyes, holding him close, breathing him in. He smells masculine and warm, like something Eddie would like to eat. Like home.

“Who would’ve thought?” Eddie murmurs when Steve nudges their faces together. Steve pulls away to look at him, and Eddie gazes at him, admiring the flush of his cheeks, his kissed-red lips. “Ste-e-eve Harrington.”

“Surprised?” Steve whispers, holding Eddie’s face.

“Hm.” Eddie takes a deep breath, gazing up at him. “Honestly, not really.”

“No?”

Eddie reaches up, touching Steve’s face, holding his chin.

“We cuddle almost every night, sweetheart.”

“‘S true.”

Steve holds his hand to his face.

“So you’re my boyfriend?” he asks almost shyly. Eddie smiles, pausing to swallow before he speaks.

“If you want me to be.”

“Yes, please.”

Eddie leans up and kisses him softly.

“You already act like my boyfriend,” Steve says quietly when they part.

“How so?”

Steve leans back, looking at him, his cheeks pink.

“You take care of me,” he says softly, averting his gaze, down to where his legs rest on either side of Eddie’s hips. “Make me feel safe. Make me feel beautiful,” he adds, his voice almost just a breath.

“Come here.”

Eddie kisses him chastely before he wraps his arms around his waist, sighing as Steve hugs him, relaxing against him. Steve tucks his face back into his neck, his breath warm against Eddie’s skin.

They fall asleep on the sofa, after moving to lay down, wrapped completely around each other, with Eddie’s pulse against Steve’s fingertips.

It’s bright when Eddie wakes up, his face covered by Steve’s hair. He squeezes his eyes shut, sighing heavily, moving his hands. They’re resting on Steve’s back as Steve lays on top on his, between his legs.

There’s noise in the kitchen.

Clatter of dishes and soft voices and the scrape of a chair over the tile floor, and Eddie blinks his eyes open, looking up at the ceiling.

Steve makes a quiet noise under him, a sleepy noise that’s rough in his throat, and Eddie runs his hand through his hair. He sits up heavily, pushing himself up over Eddie and looking down at him. His hair falls around their face like a a curtain, blocking the sunlight out, and Eddie wants to kiss him.

“Is that Robin?” Steve grumbles. Eddie pauses, listening, and he hears Robin’s voice, speaking indistinctly, and a soft laugh from Nancy.

“Sounds like it,” he says quietly.

“What are they doing in my house?” Steve mumbles, leaning down to kiss Eddie’s forehead before he gets up, groaning as he stretches.

Eddie follows him to the kitchen, rubbing his face and squinting as sunlight reflects off the white walls. Robin is sitting on a counter, talking as Nancy makes coffee. Argyle is sitting on the dining table, following a joint while Jonathan watches. Nancy sees them first, looking over as they walk in.

“Morning, sleepyheads— Holy shit.”

Robin looks around her and bursts into laughter as Eddie raises an eyebrow in confusion. Jonathon looks up at them, his eyes scanning both of them vaguely, unimpressed, and Argyle grins at them.

“Jesus, Steve,” Robin says. “I thought Eddie was the vampire.”

Oh.

Eddie’s face burns as he looks at Steve, whose face is red.

“Shut up,” Steve snaps at Robin, who cackles, and he goes over to smack the back of her head as he reaches into the cabinet behind her to get his medication.

Eddie hesitates in the doorway, watching Steve pop the pills into his mouth and sip from the faucet while trying to avoid Robin’s kicking feet. He pushes his hair back, stepping to Nancy and asking quietly for a hair tie. She’s grinning as she stirs her coffee and she just holds her wrist up for him to take it. He kisses her hand when he does.

After tying his hair up, he goes to sit on the table behind where Jonathan is sitting backwards on a chair, using Jonathan’s head to hoist itself up, and Jonathan laughs lightly.

“Morning, fellas.”

“It’s past noon,” Jonathan says dryly.

“Oh, perfect, ‘s not too early to smoke.”

“It’s never too early, my friend,” Argyle says, handing a joint out to Eddie, who takes it with a smile.

Eddie watches while Steve pours coffee into two mugs, while he scoops the perfect amount of sugar and pours the perfect amount of cream into one of them. He watches while Steve banters with Robin, his cheeks still red, while he dodges her hand that’s reaching out to ruffle his hair.

Steve brings the coffee over to him, greeting Jonathan and standing next to Eddie as he sets the coffee down. Eddie lifts his chin, pulling the joint away from his lips as Steve leans down, and Steve smiles, leaning in until his lips brush Eddie’s.

Eddie blows smoke into his mouth slowly, smiling, and he kisses him before he pulls away. Steve blows the smoke into his face.

Eddie turns to find Argyle gazing at them as he lifts his mug to sip his coffee.

“Dude.”

“I love love,” Argyle says simply, and Jonathan snorts.

“Yeah, me too, man,” Eddie says, lifting his mug.

Steve cooks while Robin and Nancy drink their coffee, and Eddie follows him, sitting on the counter. He watches Robin mindlessly play with the ends of Nancy’s hair while Nancy takes a drag from Argyle’s joint.

Eddie cleans the dishes after they eat, and Steve takes his place on the counter, and Eddie leans against it, between his legs. Steve sets his arms over Eddie’s shoulders while Eddie watches the others laugh and talk across the table. Argyle is telling some story, and Jonathan is hiding his face behind his shirt as he laughs.

“Alright?” Steve asks quietly, leaning down so his mouth is right by his ear. Eddie tilts his head, relaxing against his chest.

“Mhmm.”

Steve is quiet for a moment, his hand moving to trace soft lines over Eddie’s neck for a moment before it stops and presses into a spot that’s no doubt bruised red or purple. Eddie bites his lip, his cheeks flushing as it hurts, and he wants to let Steve do it harder, but he smacks his hand away, and Steve giggles.

“Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not.”

Eddie shakes his head fondly, looking back at him as Steve leans forward and rests his head on Eddie’s shoulder.

“I love you,” Eddie says softly. Steve’s fingers run over the back of his exposed neck before he hugs him.

“I love you too.”

Steve buries his face in Eddie’s neck, kissing him gently, and Eddie’s hands find Steve’s forearms, holding him and smiling, his eyes fluttering shut before Robin’s voice says loudly, “Oh my god.”

Steve laughs without lifting his head, his breath hot against Eddie’s skin, and Eddie opens his eyes, laughing when he finds her staring at them.

“You guys were already insufferable with the PDA.”

Steve laughs again, looking up and setting his chin on Eddie’s shoulder.

“You’re gonna have to deal with it, Buckley,” Eddie says dryly. “I’ve got a hot boyfriend, I’m not gonna keep my hands off him.”

She just gives him an immense eye-roll, and Nancy grins, her eyes sparkling as Steve hides his face back in Eddie’s neck.

“I think it’s beautiful,” Argyle says, giving them a nod of approval.

“Thanks, Argyle.”

“Wait, does this mean your guest room is up for grabs now?” Robin asks, leaning so she can see them both around Nancy.

“Uh.” Steve hums a soft mhmm into his neck, and Eddie grins. “Let me take my posters and shit and yeah.”

“Nice.”

She moves in the next week. She often joins Steve in napping on Eddie.

tagging: @allbimyself26 @th3-r4t-k1ng @marvelmwah @papermachedragons @symbioticsimplicity @hereissananxiousmess @telidina @due-to-the-fact-that-im-a-slut @messrs-weasley @suikatto @fandemonium-takes-its-toll thank you all sm <3

and just bc i thought everyone might wanna know, the person that tweeted the post that inspired this also wrote something based on it too!! you can find it here :)

#ta da #i already have another wip for them #not including the ficlet series thing i’m doing #:) #steddie #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #stranger things #stranger things fanfic

[cwritesfiction]

It’s in the Cards: a comic sans presentation

(in the tradition of writeblr, totally not an excuse to make sure I could summarize my plot concisely)

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #it's in the cards #ta da #the alt-text got nuked SORRY i will try to re-add it on another device

[goforth-ladymidnight]

A Second Chance

Pairing: Tamlin x Lucien

Rating: M for mature themes and strong language

Ch. 1/5(?)

Word Count: 3.9k

Summary: There is a reason that Tamlin disappeared from Lucien's life seven years ago. Lucien just doesn't know what it is. They were more than college roommates; they were best friends. Now, a chance encounter in a bookstore leaves both of them wondering if they can pick up where they left off. A new year is right around the corner, but there is no wiping Tamlin's slate clean. Featuring Jurian and Vassa in supporting roles, this is not a story of redemption, but of finding love—and forgiveness—in the most unlikely of places. A Modern ACOTAR Holiday AU.

✨✨✨For @praetorqueenreyna ✨✨✨

It's here! It's here! It's finally here! (Emphasis on finally.) Even though this took a lot longer than I intended, it's also a lot longer, too. This is the first chapter out of five (I think), and I hope to have the rest done by New Year's. Featuring your OTP Tamcien, as requested, as well as a little bit of Jassa because, as you'll soon see, they needed to be in this story. :) I hope you like it! I had an absolute blast writing it.

@acotargiftexchange

Read on AO3 as part of the 2023 Gift Exchange Collection or read on below the cut:

“Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer,” crooned a male voice in the sound system above their heads, a slower, mellower version of the jolly holiday song that matched the easygoing vibe in The Reading Nook Bookstore.

Lucien absentmindedly hummed along as he browsed the themed display tables, passing over the fantasy and romance books in favor of something more to his mother’s taste. As he read the synopsis of the latest Poppy Seedcake Mystery, a cozy murder mystery series themed around baked goods, he couldn’t help but smirk.

“What do you think of this,” he asked Vassa, who was perusing the political thriller section nearby. When she glanced up, he held up the cover and continued jokingly, “Should I get this for my mom? It’s all about murdering your husband and how to get away with it.”

Vassa’s bright blue eyes flicked to the cover. “Rat poison,” she said simply, before returning her attention to the thick novel in her hands.

Lucien’s brows furrowed as he turned the cover over. He traced the title with his finger as he read to her, “No, it says: A Raisin to Kill… Wait. What do you mean: ‘Rat Poison’?”

“How to murder your husband and get away with it,” she repeated in her richly lyrical Scythian accent. “Rat poison. In coffee. Tea is too weak to disguise the taste.”

Lucien swore and ducked his shoulders as a couple of curious shoppers glanced up from their magazines nearby. Redfaced, he set the mystery book down and remarked, “I forgot how literal you are sometimes.”

Vassa looked at him quizzically. “Is that not what you wanted to give your mother for Christmas?”

“Not if it can used as evidence in a murder trial,” he quipped, then shook off the chill rippling down his arms. “Maybe I’ll just buy her a fruit basket.”

“Rat poison works well in the juices of fruit, too,” she said brightly.

Lucien chuckled nervously and ran a hand over his long red hair. “I’ll take your word for it.” He wanted his bastard father dead just as much as the rest of his brothers, but he wasn’t keen on being considered a suspect in Beron Vanserra’s death. “Where did you learn about that, um—” he cleared his throat, “—advice, anyway?”

“My mother. It is said my grandfather was a—how you say—good-for-nothing rat bastard.” Lucien’s eyebrows shot up as she continued, “So, my grandmother, she takes care of him. Rat poison.”

He realized his mouth had fallen open, so he closed it. Loosening the knot of the wool scarf around his neck, he remarked, “Scythian housewives don’t mess around, do they?”

Vassa smiled sweetly and added her book to a steadily growing pile with a heavy, meaningful thump. “Rat poison makes no mess. Not like stab wounds.”

Lucien let out a nervous chuckle. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

“I will,” she trilled, then her smile vanished as she caught sight of something behind him. “Do you know a man with light hair in dark clothes?” she asked in a low voice. “He is—how you say—checking me out.”

Lucien chuckled. “Lucky you,” he quipped, returning his gaze to the Murder Mystery display, then he froze. “Wait.” Had one of the customers overheard them and called the police? Shit. Wait. Don’t panic. “What does he look like?”

She shrugged with her mouth. “Big. Strong.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. With a wincing smile, he looked over his shoulder, trying to think of a way to explain that he and his foreign friend were only joking, when he realized he recognized the man. He straightened and turned to face the man directly. “Tam?”

With a shy chuckle, Tamlin stepped closer, tucking a book under his arm as he said, “Hey, Lu. I thought that was you.”

Lucien shook his head and let out an amazed laugh, then spread his arms wide and drew Tamlin into a sudden hug. It was as brief as it was awkward, but he couldn’t help himself. After a congenial back thump, Lucien released him and stepped back. “How long has it been, man?”

“Long time,” Tamlin replied with a tight smile, his cheeks slightly flushed. “At least…”

“Seven years,” they said in unison.

“Seven years,” Tamlin repeated, nodding slowly. “What have you been, um—” He glanced at Vassa, then shoved his hands in his pockets and amended, “How have you been?”

“Good,” Lucien said quickly. “Really good. Um.” He cleared his throat and gestured to the redhead at his side. “Before I forget. Tam, this is my friend, Vassa. Vassa, this is Tamlin.”

She twiddled her fingers in a polite wave.

He looked to Tamlin and continued, “She and I met when I traveled to Scythia for that foreign exchange program back in college. Remember?”

“Oh… right,” Tamlin said, nodding slowly, then gestured at her with his pocketed hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Vassa smiled and repeated a similar greeting in Scythian.

“She’s just visiting,” Lucien explained, “but she’s thinking of moving here after the holidays.”

“Congratulations,” Tamlin said politely, and Vassa dipped her head in acknowledgment.

“What about you, man?” Lucien asked him, thumping him on the shoulder. “Where have you been hiding yourself? I haven’t seen you since junior year.”

Tamlin shrugged dismissively. “Oh, you know. Around.”

When it was clear he wasn’t going to elaborate, Lucien turned to Vassa and remarked, “Tam has the greenest thumb of anyone I know. Someone left a dying, um, plant in our dorm, and Tam nursed it back to health.”

At Vassa’s blank look, Tamlin explained, “He means weed.”

Lucien added jokingly, “The whole floor called us the High Lords.”

Tamlin turned red and chuckled. “Oh, god. The High Lords. I had forgotten about that.”

Lucien grinned. “Yeah. Weren’t there six of us? You, me, Kallias, Tarquin, Rhys—”

Tamlin’s easy smile stiffened. “Oh. Yeah.”

Lucien was about to ask what that look meant, when he noticed Vassa’s confused frown. “Oh, sorry,” he told her. “I meant to explain: Weed is something you smoke to get high. Um, feel good. We were in Room 420… You know. Dumb kid stuff.”

Vassa continued to frown. “He has green thumb?”

Both Tamlin and Lucien let out embarrassed chuckles.

Before Lucien could think of a better Scythian translation, Tamlin pulled his hand out of his pocket and gave her a thumbs-up. “He just means I’m good with my hands,” he said with a smile.

“You should have heard him play in the orchestra,” Lucien added eagerly. “He could make a grown man cry with his violin.” Vassa smiled at that. Music was something she appreciated, and understood; no translation necessary. He asked Tamlin, “Do you still play?”

Tamlin winced and rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, no. Not really.”

“Oh.”

Before he could think of a better question, Tamlin cleared his throat and said, “Well, it was good seeing you again. I don’t often run into anyone from the old days, so—”

“Oh, yeah?” Lucien said, trying to keep him a little longer. “Maybe we can have lunch some time. I don’t want to keep you from your Christmas shopping.” He nodded at the book tucked under his old friend’s arm. It had a bright yellow spine that contrasted nicely with the dark hunter green of his jacket, so it was difficult to ignore. It was difficult to think of what else to say.

“Job hunting for…” Vassa said slowly, tilting her head as she read the spine, and Lucien suddenly realized why Tamlin had been hiding the book under his arm.

“For a friend,” Tamlin said hastily, his face turning as red as Lucien’s felt. He jerked his thumb at the checkout line and said, “I’m on my lunch break, so…”

Not wanting to end their chance meeting on a sour note, Lucien asked him, “So, when do you get off work? Five?”

Tamlin’s throat bobbed. “Something like that.”

Lucien nodded at Vassa and said, “We’re having dinner at eight o’clock tonight, and we’d love for you to join us.”

“After, we have tickets to Swan Lake,” Vassa added.

“Vassa’s never been, so…” Lucien tried to explain, but Tamlin winced and held up his hand.

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“Not at all,” Lucien insisted. “We’ll just get another ticket.”

Tamlin looked skeptical. “To Swan Lake? In December?”

“You know the Vanserras are big patrons of the arts. I’ll name-drop.”

“I don’t know,” Tamlin said slowly. “Two’s company, three’s a crowd…”

“You can be bringing someone else, too, yes?” Vassa offered.

“Are you seeing anyone?” Lucien asked.

Tamlin’s brows furrowed. “You mean… like a date?”

“Yeah,” Lucien squeaked, then cleared his throat. “Um, yeah, a date.” He gestured between them. “You can bring someone, I’ll bring Vassa, and then nobody will feel left out. What do you say?”

Tamlin quirked his mouth to one side, thinking it over. After a long pause, he sighed. “I do have a friend…”

“Perfect.” Lucien jumped at the chance. “Let’s meet up for drinks at The Sour Lemon Bar at seven, then we’ll have dinner and go to the theater afterwards.”

When Tamlin still hesitated, Lucien added, “My treat.”

Tamlin winced. “I can’t let you do that—”

“Sure you can!” Lucien insisted, thumping him on the arm. “It’s all going on the Vanserra expense account, anyway. A very merry Fuck You to my father, just in time for Christmas.”

Tamlin dropped his gaze to the ground, chuckling deeply. When he looked up again, the tight lines in his face had eased, and his smile finally reached his eyes. “You haven’t changed a bit, you know that?”

Lucien grinned. “Does that mean you’ll come?”

Tamlin sighed again, but he nodded. “It’s a date.” He blushed. “I-I mean, with you a-and Vassa.” He cleared his throat. “Seven, you said?”

Lucien’s scarf felt strangely tight as he agreed, “At The Sour Lemon Bar. Do you need an address?”

“No, I’m sure I’ll find it,” Tamlin said, edging toward the checkout stand. “See you, Lu. Nice to meet you, um, Vassa.”

Vassa nodded, and Lucien raised his hand in farewell as he watched his long-lost friend make his way to the front of the store.

“He seems nice,” Vassa remarked.

“Yeah,” Lucien murmured, watching as Tamlin took out a worn-looking leather wallet from the back of his belted jeans. The hunter green bomber jacket looked warm enough, but it was December, and they were expecting snow later. He wasn’t even wearing a hat, but his sunlight blond hair reached his shoulders and covered his ears, so maybe he didn’t need one. Tamlin’s hair had been much shorter back in the day, just curling under his ears and tickling the back of his neck when the two of them were in school, an act of defiance against his military father, Tamlin had said.

The long hair suited him, but unlike Lucien’s own shoulder-length strands, it seemed less like a stylistic choice and more like he hadn’t seen a barber in a while. It was like he hadn’t seen anyone in a while.

As Tamlin left the store without looking back, the bell above the door jingled, and a new song began to play: “Sleigh bells ring, are you listenin’…”

It was almost funny, but Lucien could only sigh. Something had happened to his old friend, but he couldn’t begin to guess what it was. With a start, he realized he hadn’t given Tamlin his contact information. He could only hope that his old friend would show up like he promised, and then he could find out what had happened to break his spirit.

* * *

Tamlin slid into the front seat of his friend’s black SUV with a heavy sigh. The soiled interior smelled like an ashtray and stale french fries, but at least it was warm.

Jurian, sitting in the driver’s seat with his mini-binoculars glued to the front of his face, asked, “Find anything good?”

Tamlin sighed again and rubbed his hands against the vent’s steady flow of welcome heat. “Yeah.”

Jurian lowered the binoculars at last and looked at him. “And?”

“And she was in there, all right? She was Christmas shopping, like normal people do at this time of year.”

Jurian smirked. “Oh, like you?” He glanced down at the paper bag resting on the middle seat. “What’s that?”

“It’s nothing—Hey!”

Jurian had the bag torn open before he could snatch it back, and he scoffed. “Job Hunting for Dummies?” He snorted. “Looking for another job, dummy?”

Face burning, Tamlin snatched the book and the bag back. “Shut up. I had to buy something, all right? It was the first thing I grabbed. She saw me.”

“Shit. She saw you?” Jurian grimaced and ran a hand over his salt-and-pepper stubble. “Did she mark you?”

“No,” Tamlin muttered, wrapping the torn brown paper edges over the top of the book before shoving it under his seat.

“Good. The last thing we need is to lose our payday. Christmas is coming up, and the fat man is bringing a big fat check if we play this right.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tamlin muttered, shoving his hands under his armpits.

Jurian snorted. “Don’t sound so excited. It’s not every day that a job like this drops in our laps. Cheating spouses is our bread and butter, but runaway princesses?” He put his fingers to his lips and kissed them. “Filet mignon.”

Tamlin let out a resigned sigh. “If you like filet mignon.”

Jurian smirked. “I don’t mind second helpings.” Tamlin shot him a look, but Jurian suddenly straightened up and snapped his fingers at something outside. “Hey-hey-hey. There she is. Grab the camera.”

As Tamlin reluctantly reached into the backseat, Jurian lifted the binoculars and squinted through them.

“Huh. Koschei didn’t mention she had a brother.”

Tamlin straightened up in the passenger seat as he slung the camera strap around his neck. “She doesn’t.”

Jurian lowered the binoculars with a confused squint. “Then who’s the twink?”

“He’s not a twink—” Tamlin bit back a growl as Jurian raised his dark, bushy brows at him. He took a deep breath and calmly explained, “His name is Lucien Vanserra. You’ve probably heard of his family.”

“Vanserra? As in Daddy is the head of the entire Autumn Corporation?” When Tamlin nodded, Jurian let out a low, appreciative whistle and resumed his binocular view. “That explains the nice threads. No wonder Princess is hanging around him.”

Tamlin’s cheeks flushed with a muttered, “Yeah,” then lifted the camera and looked down the telescopic lens. The two redheads were chatting amiably outside the bookstore, blissfully unaware that they were being watched by some sleazy private eye and his equally sleazy but unwilling cameraman. At least it paid the rent. Some of the time.

It was just a few lousy pictures. Proof that Vassa was living in Prythian. That was all. But still, as Tamlin zoomed in on Lucien’s smiling face, as he laughed at something Vassa said, his perfect teeth bright against the tawny beige of his skin, his finger hovered—and hesitated—over the shutter button.

“Problem?” Jurian asked.

“Smudge on the lens,” Tamlin muttered, lowering the camera. As he dug around in the camera case for a cleaning cloth, Jurian swore.

“You didn’t think to check it before we left?”

“It’s this damn vehicle,” Tamlin snapped. “Maybe if you cleaned it once in a while—”

“Hey. Don’t blame me for your screw-up—”

“I didn’t want to take this job in the first place!”

“Oh, now you tell me. Anything else you want to confess, or should I find a priest for that?!”

They were still arguing when Tamlin saw red.

“Shit.” He ducked down in the passenger seat as Lucien stepped off the sidewalk and crossed the street in front of the SUV, alone.

Jurian sat back in his seat and barked a laugh when Tamlin finally lifted his head to peek over the dashboard. “Hey, dumbass. Tinted windows, remember?”

“Shut up,” Tamlin muttered, straightening up, then winced as he examined the lens, which had been bumped loose from the lens mount. He hoped it wasn’t broken. Repairs like that weren’t cheap.

Jurian sat up in the driver’s seat and squinted, then smacked his hand against the steering wheel. “Dammit. She’s gone.”

He shifted the SUV into gear, then floored the gas and pulled into the street. As they drove, scanning the slushy streets, Jurian ran a hand through his already unruly dark hair. “Fuck. Where are we supposed to look for her now?”

As Tamlin lowered the two pieces of the camera to his lap, he cleared his throat. ���Funny you should mention that…”

Jurian cocked an eyebrow as Tamlin explained what had happened inside the bookstore. “A date?” He could barely keep his eyes on the road. “Are you fucking serious?”

“It’s not a date,” Tamlin retorted. “We’re just old friends catching up, that’s all.”

“You and pretty boy, maybe, but what am I supposed to do? I’m supposed to be undercover. We’re supposed to be undercover, dipshit.”

“I’m not going to blow our cover,” Tamlin growled through gritted teeth. “And you don’t have to come.”

Jurian huffed in frustration and slammed on the brakes, narrowly missing the car in front of him as it idled at a stoplight. “Great,” he huffed again, smacking the steering wheel. “This is just great.” He grumbled something about this being the worst time to give up smoking—even though it had been three years—then he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Look. I’m sorry, kid. I know this isn’t your dream job. I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I wasn’t desperate. My vision isn’t what it used to be, and Mr. Hybern is breathing down my neck, and…”

Tamlin’s fingers traced the edges of the busted lens mount, and he sighed. “I know.”

“I’ll make it up to you. We’ll skip the filet mignon and get one of those—” He snapped his fingers. “—what do you call ‘em—hide-a-beds. God knows we need a new couch anyway.”

Tamlin thought of the way the sorry sofa sagged under his weight and the way it was six inches too short no matter which way he laid on it.

“You know what? I’ll even pretend to be whatever you want on this date—not-a-date,” he amended when Tamlin shot him a warning look, “if you’ll help me with this last job. Deal?”

It still meant lying to Lucien, but was leaving out the worst part of the last seven years even a lie in the first place? The traffic light ahead of them turned green, but the SUV continued to idle.

“Well?”

Tamlin sighed again. “Deal.”

“Atta boy,” Jurian said warmly, then flipped off the cars honking behind him. “I know it’s green, you morons.”

Tamlin sank back against the passenger seat as the SUV sped up to join the thick of downtown traffic, strangely calm while Jurian swore at all the holiday shoppers during the most fuckin’ wonderful time of the year.

Even though Tamlin would have preferred to leave Jurian—and Vassa—out of it, he was almost looking forward to that evening. It had been so long since he had looked forward to anything… It wasn’t even about the food and the entertainment. God only knew how long it had been since he had had enjoyed anything half that nice. The Sour Lemon Bar alone was on the ritzier side of town, after all… It was about the company.

A slight smile touched his mouth as he thought back to that chance meeting with his old friend and former roommate. Jurian was decent enough to give him a place to stay when the whole world went to hell, but… From the first day they met at college, he and Lucien just clicked. They could talk about everything and nothing. It was more than being best friends. They were true kindred spirits.

They were each the youngest in their respective families, with strict, overbearing fathers who couldn’t be bothered to show up for important things like recitals or graduation, but who were also obsessed with image and obedience.

Tamlin still didn’t know how Lucien’s mom put up with it, but his own mother had passed away when he was sixteen. She had been there for every school concert, every violin recital, smiling proudly despite undergoing brutal cancer treatments. All the while his own father couldn’t be bothered to show up.

“Only queers and sissies play the fiddle,” his father had sneered.

Real men play football. Real men win wrestling tournaments. Real men take one for the team, the way his brothers did. They called him selfish for making their mother go to his concerts when she should have been home resting. They ignored her insistence that she really wanted to go, but at least they didn’t stop her.

Even at her weakest, she continued to show up, holding a single rose to throw on the stage after each performance, ‘the way they did it in the movies’. He used to be embarrassed about it, but he secretly dried them out and kept every single one… At least until his father found the box after her death and threw them all out.

Tamlin then chose to honor her memory by working his ass off and getting a music scholarship to one of the most prestigious universities in Prythian instead of going into the military like his father wanted. He had paid for it, too, in more ways than one. He hadn’t spoken to his father and two older brothers for ten years, and he didn’t plan on starting now. Jurian’s foul mouth and fouler apartment were preferable to the abuse and neglect he had endured at the hands of his so-called family. And then to run into Lucien again after all this time…

Maybe this was finally the end of some terrible bad luck streak. Some god-awful curse. Seven years bad luck, and all that. It seemed pointless to hope, and yet… Lucien had actually been happy to see him. He had hugged him. Tamlin finally understood what it meant to be touch-starved, and he realized he was ravenous. As much as he had protested, how could he say no to another taste?

Since the camera needed repairs anyway, there was no reason he couldn’t sit back and enjoy himself for a single evening. Jurian could keep an eye on Vassa while he and Lucien reminisced about the good ol’ days…

As the nicer buildings of downtown gave way to small, old-fashioned houses and even older apartment buildings on the edge of town where he and Jurian lived, Tamlin let out a disgruntled sigh. Who was he kidding?

There was no fooling Lucien. His friend had always had the uncanny ability to see right through him. If he somehow managed to bullshit his way through the evening and pretend that everything was sunshine and roses, there was no getting around the fact that he still had a job to do. Some shadowy figure called Mr. Koschei wanted those photos of Vassa by Christmas.

Tamlin wanted to believe that the pictures meant nothing more than a paycheck, but three months’ worth of rent was a lot to ask for a few lousy headshots, no matter how badly they needed it. He certainly didn’t want to see her get hurt, or Lucien, either, for that matter, but he didn’t see any way around it.

He hated himself even more now for getting involved, and for agreeing to Jurian’s proposal. But Jurian couldn’t do it without his help, or his camera.

The most wonderful time of the year, indeed.

#to be continued #you probably already guessed it was me #but #ta da #i've been so nervous about posting this #since it's not finished yet #and it doesn't really get happy until the end #but since you said you like angst #and new year's fics #and latkes #i really hope you like it #acotar gift exchange #acotar gift exchange 2023 #tamcien #tamlin x lucien