#riddlethat

     admitting to this fact is going to go straight to eddie's head. theo knows this. theo knows this well. but more embarrassing than confessing to the truth would be eddie catching him in a lie.

     there's no other option.

     “ you're very charming, ” theo relents begrudgingly, like the facts are being forced out of him. “ that in itself is attractive. and you're handsome - there's no denying it. ” they exhale on a sigh, shoulders flexing to cross their arms over their chest. “ you have a certain aura about you: mysterious, playful. it draws a person in. ” a pause. “ including me. ”

     he’s tired. eddie seems to sense it when he stops by, lacking his usual flair for the dramatic. when theo asks him to stay, he expects an outright no at best. at worst, he expects eddie to disappear from his life for weeks this time – maybe forever, if he’s particularly unlucky.

     somehow, they’d convinced him to stay the night only by asking. just one night out of dozens, curled up in theo’s bed, genuine rest lightening the dark shadows beneath his eyes. he’d let theo hold him and tuck his face into their neck, warm and comfortable and caring. at some point, he’d even wrapped an arm around theo’s middle, splayed a hand at where their back just started to widen above their waist. he’d slept more peacefully than theo had thought he would, breathing evenly, only the random twitch of his brow and the flex of his fingers lending itself to him dreaming. they’d barely slept a wink, too eager to revel in this moment of eddie finally lowering some of his defenses, at theo managing to climb just a little further up those walls he kept firmly erected between them.

     they have responsibilities they can’t ignore, though. they slide out from the cradle of eddie’s arms, trying not to wake him. it doesn’t entirely work; eddie shifts just as theo is leaving the room, blearily blinking at them, hair flattened on one side. theo tells him to go back to sleep, but eddie yawns wide, scrubs a hand over his eyes before teetering to a stand. he starts in the vague direction of the bathroom, and theo takes the lead. without much thought, they strip off their shirt, eddie doing the same in their peripheral, and they kick off their pants, scrubbing a hand through their hair. they lean over to turn on the shower, testing the temperature with a hand. they don’t see eddie continue stripping – in fact, in the very edge of the mirror, they’re able to see that eddie has stopped moving completely. his hands hold his own shirt down near his hips, like an afterthought.

     they feel eddie’s eyes on them, just as their thumbs dip into the waistband of their boxers, and theo pauses. when they glance at him, his eyes are somewhere around their navel, and theo clears their throat. eddie’s gaze snaps up meeting theo’s, and theo tilts their head – removes their hands, placing them back on the countertop behind them. it’s an invitation.

     eddie takes it. he paces forward, like a tiger in a cage, and his hands come up to frame theo’s face, fingers dragging over two days’ worth of stubble before they settle at their sideburns. eddie’s mouth meets his hot, DESPERATION burned into the seam of their lips, and theo hums low in their throat, almost guttural thinks finally, finally. they rest a hand heavy on the jut of his hip, eddie’s stubble scraping against their mouth, and when they nip at eddie’s lower lip, he makes a dark, eager noise against theo’s tongue. theo swallows it down, eager, slides his hand around to grip full flesh, and it’s then that eddie breaks away, hands landing firm at theo’s chest, shoulders flexing as he pushes. theo drops their hands immediately, palms up, and eddie nearly jumps across the bathroom, chest heaving. theo watches as he presses two fingers to his mouth, then drops his hand, never looking at him as he tugs his shirt back on, as he rakes a hand through the tufts of his hair. theo wants to ask why?, wants to say, it doesn’t have to mean anything, wants to rewind time back to when this never happened. eddie shifts, and they move out of the way completely, allowing him the space to get to the exit.

     eddie opens the door, steam curling out from the crack between it and the frame, and says over his shoulder, i’ll be back later. he doesn’t meet theo’s eyes, and his knuckles are white around the handle, gripped so tight the color has drained from his skin. if he’d been anything like theo, he would have dented the metal, warping it into a study of shame. a failure of restraint.

               theo knows it’s a lie.

     they pretend they don’t when they nod, when eddie slips out of view and they hear their front door close with finality.

     the scent of blood is what first tips them off that something is wrong.

     there's nothing quite like it. coppery, wet, like iron and rust and steel dripping hot into jumping flames. it sets theo's teeth on edge, stirs the beast in their belly, a wolf hungry to eat. as a man, they've grown tired of it, life ended by their hands staining crimson in the scars over the knuckles, the lines wrought ancient and endless into their palms. to the wolf, it wants to hunt, wants to play, wants to win.

     the second observation is far more obvious: eddie, hunched over on their doorstep, palm pressed harsh to his ribs, a bruise blooming ugly and purple around his eye. when he meets theo's eye, he manages a lopsided smile, wobbly and weak in the lines around his mouth. it's clear he's been through some kind of scuffle. what isn't clear is whether he's better or worse off than his opponent.

     “ eddie? ” theo asks incredulously, a little dumbly, because - yes, obviously, who else would be bloody and bruised outside their apartment door, hand gripped tight to the frame, as if the slightest wind will blow him over? not many people, and edward nygma is no stranger to theo. neither are his habits, or his proclivity to make decisions the would consider unwise. “ what - just come in, first. here, ” and theo steps out into the glow of the hallway lights, loops an arm around eddie's waist, and nudges his arm over their shoulders. they feel the jut of his hip, ribs bony and too close to his skin, decide to leave that conversation for another time. they guide him forward, careful over the lip into their front room, and lay him on the couch. “ start talking, so i know whether i need to bring you to a hospital or not. ”

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘, salt poured over wounded flesh —— fred tenses, hand tightly clenched around the knife as the lemon is cut, the lemon is squeezed, and it looks to the bleeding over the cutting board. ❝ however long i need to. ❞ her voice reeled in, shameful whisper —— wondering if the walls could hear, what they would say. imagining a landscape of cities like trees whispering to each other, travelling down the line through the sickest game of telephone to catch her out in the open and bring word back home of her unlikely refuge. her gaze suddenly shoots up, meets his: what does she know, really — can he even be trusted, a man that trades in secrets for a living ? for a second she is angry, angry at his question, enraged by the truth it conceals. running is temporary, and hiding is an illusion. the only certainty is, one day, this race will end. and the odds, she fears, are far from favoring her. ❝ i don’t think i’m paying you for your opinion, anyway ❞. freddie cuts another slice and the knife hits the board with a loud thud — then she sighs, steps away, rubs the side of her temple. this place is getting hotter, uncomfortable. ❝ i’m sorry, i just — haven’t been sleeping well, i’m a little on edge. ❞ gaze drifts away, and when it meets his again, it’s less sharp. ❝ you don’t look like you got good news. ❞

oc emoji asks | still accepting.

🕷️ SPIDER - what is their biggest fear? do they have any irrational / mundane fears?

in truth her biggest fear is that idea of being forgotten. she has a hyperfixation on being somebody, of course, so the idea of being publically forgotten or ignored is devastating, but there's a deeper rooted fear of abandonment or of being discarded by the people she cares about that really drives her need to take up space by force in everyone's lives.

irrational fears, probably dogs. sorry @king-crane.

❤️ RED HEART - their love language(s)?

oh, acts of service, for sure. she's never going to be someone who can say I love you as easily as she can say I hate you, she's been burned before and it's almost amputated that ability.

but the people she cares about will always, always have someone to deliver their groceries. there will always be someone watching their house when things are getting dangerous. if a lightbulb needs fixing, a stair creaks, a faucet leaks, someone will be over the same day.

sharp objects sentence starters | still accepting.

Even before the sentence is done, something about his tone has Mary's eyes narrowing; she watches him through her eyelashes, still feigning disinterest, but her hands have stilled over her game of solitaire, a card still clutched lightly between her fingertips.