Hongjoong felt like he should win some sort of award, if he was being honest. Some kind of Survived Yet Another Concert Without Jumping Song Mingi award.
Tags/CW:
Possessive Sex (non-toxic), Barebacking, Top Kim Hongjoong, Bottom Song Mingi, Tooth-rotting Sappiness, Established Relationship
[ READ ON AO3 ]
Hongjoong felt like he should win some sort of award, if he was being honest. Some kind of Survived Yet Another Concert Without Jumping Song Mingi award. Truly, the effort was herculean—he would challenge anyone who argued otherwise (such as Wooyoung), asking if they had ever seen Song Mingi (Wooyoung, of course, had, but that’s not the point).
But every time, every show, Hongjoong would perform as close to a perfect show as possible with the rest of his members, all the while watching Mingi move with something hungry and demanding. He’d spend the whole set watching the way Mingi danced, the way he flirted, the way he would grab himself and bite his lip and stick out his tongue.
And Mingi would catch him watching, every single time, and that was how Hongjoong knew that the show was for him. Of course, it was for Atiny to a certain extent, but it was for Hongjoong, a promise and a request all in one.
When the show ended, Hongjoong made a point to keep his distance just enough that Mingi didn’t press his luck while out in public, but not so much that Mingi was discouraged. It was a delicate balance that Hongjoong perfected over time.
They made it all the way to Hongjoong’s suite (where Mingi’s bag was already dropped the night before) before Mingi made the first little noise of impatience. The moment the door clicked shut behind them, Hongjoong had crowded Mingi against it, twisting his hands in the front of his shirt to kiss his neck.
“Let’s shower, first,” Hongjoong murmured when Mingi whispered a soft ‘please’ into the quiet room. “I’ll take care of you.”
Mingi happily allowed Hongjoong to guide him into the bathroom, and together they stripped each other down to nothing as the water warmed up in the shower. Once inside, they made quick work of washing each other, lingering touches leaving both of them breathless and hard, until Mingi hauled Hongjoong up into his arms to kiss him.
It was their first proper kiss since they got up in the morning, and Hongjoong let the other rapper control it. The kiss was messy, mostly tongue and teeth, with Mingi’s groans vibrating against his mouth, but it was perfect because it was how Mingi kissed him. It was only for Hongjoong.
“Hyung, please,” Mingi whimpered, breaking the kiss. “Want you to fuck me.”
That was all Hongjoong needed to hear before shutting off the shower and walking Mingi backward out of the stall and toward the bed. It was an afterthought that Hongjoong grabbed a towel as they passed the rack, and he haphazardly dried them off as he walked. The moment the backs of Mingi’s knees hit the bed, Hongjoong gave him the lightest nudge and the other rapper sprawled beautifully across the duvet.
Clean, naked, and damp like that, Mingi was even more of a vision than he was on stage. Now, that was a view that was truly for Hongjoong’s eyes only, and he was struck with the urge to bite Mingi everywhere that was his to stake his claim. But he couldn’t, knowing the last thing they wanted was for questions to be raised about bite marks and bruises.
Mingi laughed, and Hongjoong frowned up at his face. “What’s with the grumpy face?” Mingi asked, almost shyly even as he preened under Hongjoong’s gaze.
“I want to mark what’s mine, but I know I can’t,” Hongjoong pouted, the silent ‘yet’ at the end of the statement loud in the quiet room.
Mingi flushed a deep pink, his ears going dark as he bit his lip, glancing away from Hongjoong. Once, during a break, they gave in to Hongjoong’s desire to bite and claw and suck his mark into Mingi’s skin, and it took way too long for it all to heal fully. They discovered, rather quickly, that there was no real middle ground to Hongjoong’s urge, too. But Hongjoong knew Mingi craved it to, that Mingi liked looking in the mirror and seeing how he belonged to Hongjoong, having proof of being owned and wanted on his skin.
“Then just…make me feel it,” Mingi managed to whisper, almost shyly up at Hongjoong. At Hongjoong’s confused head tilt, Mingi chewed his lip as he rolled over so that he was bent over the edge of the bed, legs spread to expose his tight little hole to Hongjoong’s gaze. With a heated look over his shoulders, his intense eyes hooded and dark, Mingi said, “don’t use your fingers. Want you to fuck me like this, make me feel it for days.”
Hongjoong’s throat went dry as his brain shut off, overwhelmed with the beautiful image of Mingi limping the next day. Shaking his head, Hongjoong said, “I don’t want to hurt you—”
“You fucked me yesterday. I’ll be okay if you skip prepping me with your tiny fingers, hyung,” Mingi interrupted, and Hongjoong wished he was embarrassed with how easily he was convinced.
Hongjoong grabbed the lube from the bedside table and made quick, messy work of coating his cock with it, dribbling a liberal amount down the seam of Mingi’s ass as well. Beneath him, Mingi was shaking with anticipation, quietly begging Hongjoong to fuck him.
Lining up, Hongjoong ran his slick cock up and down over Mingi’s hole until the head of it caught the rim, and that pulled the loveliest litany of sounds from the other rapper.
“Please, please, please, hyung, put it in,” Mingi babbled, and of course, Hongjoong was powerless to deny Mingi anything when he sounded and looked like that.
With a brutal push, Hongjoong bullied his way into Mingi’s tight hole, groaning at the impossibly snug fit as he spread Mingi’s cheeks. Below him, Mingi choked and clawed at the duvet, squirming like he wanted to both escape and meet the relentless press of Hongjoong’s cock.
When Hongjoong bottomed out, he intended to let the other man adjust, but Mingi clenched around him with a sob and tried to wiggle closer.
The last of Hongjoong’s restraint snapped.
Mingi was hoarse with the hiccuping, desperate, pained noises he made as Hongjoong’s hips slapped against his ass, his back arched beautifully as he struggled to get his elbows under him so he could look over his shoulder at Hongjoong again.
It was so much, and Hongjoong knew he wouldn’t last very long. Luckily, Mingi was in the same boat.
“Can’t wait to feel you tomorrow,” Mingi groaned before practically wailing when Hongjoong changed the angle just so. With a shaky sob, Mingi babbled about being close, about wanting to come, about wanting to feel Hongjoong come deep inside him, to mark him in such an intimate way.
Hongjoong was actively fighting back his release, already on the edge with how tight and needy Mingi was being. “Gonna come on my cock untouched, Mingi-ya?” Hongjoong asked as he leaned forward onto his hands above Mingi, drilling into him at an angle that was absolutely nailing Mingi’s prostate with every thrust. “Gonna be my good boy and come for me?”
And Mingi—perfect, gorgeous, obedient Mingi—came with a scream that he barely managed to muffle in the comforter beneath him, his hips bouncing back to meet Hongjoong’s brutal thrusts as he spilled between his stomach and the comforter. The way Mingi clenched around Hongjoong was divine, bringing him right up to the edge.
“Mingi-ya, my sweet, perfect Mingi-ya,” Hongjoong crooned as his thrusts grew erratic and jerky, his release so close he wanted to cry.
With a broken moan, Mingi said, “yours. Your Mingi-ya.”
As lightning zinged up the length of Hongjoong’s spine, he came so hard his vision went white. Hongjoong almost frantically fucked them both through their orgasms, breathless and whimpering himself, ignoring the way Mingi’s own moans turned into overstimulated hisses of almost-pain.
When he began to soften, Hongjoong finally stopped moving and draped himself over Mingi’s back to catch his breath, kissing Mingi’s shoulder blades as Mingi recovered some of his own faculties.
“Wish I had a plug,” Hongjoong idly mused as he thought about the way his come would dribble out of Mingi when he pulled out. “Keep you nice and full of my cum for a little longer.”
Mingi shuddered and reached for his bag that was still where he dropped it on the bed earlier. With a bit of fumbling with the pockets, he pulled out a modest little plug and held it back for Hongjoong to take. Once again, Hongjoong didn’t hesitate to take it from the other rapper, nor did he pause to double-check as he pulled out and pressed the toy inside.
Standing up, Hongjoong looked down at Mingi with a fondness so big he thought he might split apart at the seams. Of course, there was a lewdness about Mingi bent over the edge of the bed naked and coated in a light sheen of sweat, laying in what must of been an uncomfortable puddle of cum, but he also looked terribly sweet as he smiled sleepily up at Hongjoong over his shoulder.
“Come on, Mingi-ya, get up on the bed,” Hongjoong cooed, smacking Mingi’s ass lightly and laughing at the groan the other rapper let out.
“Have to shower again, don’t I?” he whined, pouting spectacularly about the thought. Hongjoong understood Mingi’s complaints completely—the busy day was quickly catching up to him, too, and he had much better stamina than his beautiful partner.
"Fine, I’ll grab a washcloth to clean you up really quick. Stay put,” Hongjoong said before disappearing into the bathroom. When he returned to the room after cleaning himself up a bit, he found Mingi dozing where Hongjoong left him and once again, Hongjoong was left breathless with how much he loved Mingi.
Gently, Hongjoong cleaned up any excess lube that was still between Mingi’s cheeks, and maybe he teased Mingi awake by rocking the plug inside him until the other rapper reached back with a little gasp.
“Can’t…” Mingi started shakily and Hongjoong hummed comfortingly.
“I know, Mingi-ya, I was just teasing a bit. Can you roll over for me?” he asked softly, and Mingi nodded before rolling until he was lounging back on his elbows, looking up at Hongjoong.
He was somehow even more beautiful, stretched out across the bed, covered in his own cum and looking up at Hongjoong through his lashes. If Mingi didn’t look ready to burst into tears if he didn’t get tucked into bed as soon as possible, Hongjoong would be tempted to clean him up with his tongue first. Alas, he knew his boyfriend’s limits, so he gently wiped the warm washcloth over Mingi’s stomach and soft dick. By the time he was done, Mingi had let his head loll back, his eyes closed and face lax.
Just utterly relaxed and trusting.
“Oh, my sweet Mingi-ya,” Hongjoong cooed, tossing the cloth in the direction of the bathroom (and ignoring the sound of it hitting the wall next to the door) as he leaned over Mingi to coax him into a soft, lazy kiss.
“Yours,” Mingi mumbled sleepily, and Hongjoong could feel his drowsy little smile. “Your Mingi.”
“My Mingi,” Hongjoong reaffirmed, heart full to bursting.
Tag List: @yunho-s @hxneyfarm
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body's moving like a slow jam
[kinktober 2025 fill]
Explicit★MinJoong★1778 words★Complete
Summary:
You didn’t have to wake me up, y’know... at the start, I mean…”
“How would I have gotten your cock free enough for me to ride if you were still wearing pants? You’re hard to move when you’re asleep, Mingi-ya.” Hongjoong teased after a few moments of stunned silence.
Mingi shrugged a bit, biting his lip as he glanced away. “Next time, I just won’t wear clothes. Then you can have your way with me for as long as you want before waking me up,” he said easily, winking up at Hongjoong.
Tags & CW:
Consensual Somnophilia, Somnophilia, Established Relationship, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Unsafe Sex
[ READ ON AO3 ]
When Hongjoong arrived home, it was to a silent dorm. He knew it was late, but the silence was still a surprise. After a quick investigation, he discovered that both Wooyoung and Jongho were both gone, and with a sheepish laugh, Hongjoong checked their group chat where, sure enough, they had let him know they had their own plans for the night. Even their manager was making himself scarce, which meant he had the dorm all to himself until the morning.
With a sigh, Hongjoong shuffled down the little hall toward his room, and frowned at seeing the door completely shut with the soft glow of a light shining underneath. Carefully opening the door and peering inside, he couldn’t help the soft, fond smile that overtook his face as he saw Mingi sound asleep on the bed. The bedside lamp was still on, light at the lowest setting, with his phone resting on his bare chest. The anime he had fallen asleep watching was still playing quietly on the screen, which made Hongjoong’s stomach squirm with so much affection, he wanted to bite the other rapper about it.
The idea that Mingi had come over just to crawl into his bed, tried to wait up for him but fell asleep watching some sort of silly show… It was too much to expect Hongjoong to handle that with any amount of grace or decorum.
Wasting zero time, Hongjoong immediately stripped down to just his underwear before rushing through his bed time routine, desperate to cuddle up to the other rapper and sleep. When he lifted the covers slightly to crawl underneath them, Hongjoong nearly choked as he saw Mingi’s very bare hip where he expected to see boxers.
See, Hongjoong had seen Mingi naked plenty of times, and had the blessed opportunity to enjoy that nakedness to the fullest most of those times. However, Mingi had never been so bold as to lay in Hongjoong’s bed like that, waiting for him to come home.
At that moment, the memories of the last time Mingi had been in his bed waiting for him, specifically the conversation they had after came rushing back to Hongjoong.
“You didn’t have to wake me up, y’know,” Mingi said a bit breathlessly as Hongjoong stayed seated on his softening cock. When Hongjoong looked at him, wide-eyed, he added sheepishly, “at the start, I mean…”
“How would I have gotten your cock free enough for me to ride if you were still wearing pants? You’re hard to move when you’re asleep, Mingi-ya,” Hongjoong teased after a few moments of stunned silence.
Mingi shrugged a bit, biting his lip as he glanced away. “Next time, I just won’t wear clothes. Then you can have your way with me for as long as you want before waking me up,” he said easily, winking up at Hongjoong.
That night, Hongjoong had assumed Mingi was only teasing, saying something weird and wild while recovering from their intense romp between the sheets. Yet there Mingi was a few days later, in Hongjoong’s bed, completely naked and waiting for him.
With a start, Hongjoong reached over to take Mingi’s phone and turn the show off before placing the device on the bedside table. The last thing Hongjoong wanted was a silly anime playing in the background when he was hard (he was already halfway there, which he wished he was more embarrassed about than he apparently was).
Hongjoong didn’t give himself any time to doubt Mingi’s intentions, or to question his own decision to act on the implied request.
In the next few minutes, Hongjoong had stripped off his underwear, grabbed the lube, and carefully peeled the blanket away so he had full access to Mingi’s glorious body. Sighing happily, he knelt between Mingi’s long legs as he got his fingers coated with lube. Bending over to rest an elbow on the bed next to Mingi’s hip, he wrapped his lips delicately around the other rapper’s soft dick, lapping at the head carefully as he slipped his hand between his own thighs and started prepping himself.
As always, Mingi was so perfectly responsive—Hongjoong felt each sleep-soaked groan go straight to his dick, his eyes rolling back as he fingered himself open. Hongjoong loved it, the novelty of feeling his jaw stretch as Mingi hardened against his tongue. Typically, Mingi would already be leaking by the time Hongjoong got him naked enough to get his mouth on him.
With a low groan of his own, Hongjoong took more of Mingi’s cock into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks as he worked a third finger into his own hole. Beneath him, Mingi released a breathy little whine as he shuddered, the sound electrifying Hongjoong’s spine. It was such a soft, sweet sound that filled Hongjoong to bursting with affection, so he lifted off of Mingi’s cock with a small pop and bit the inside of Mingi’s thigh.
Beneath him, Mingi twitched at the bite, and when Hongjoong looked up through his lashes at the other rapper’s face, he saw the way his brows were slightly furrowed. However, he wasn’t waking up which worked just fine for Hongjoong. With another nibbling kiss to the soft inner-thigh against his lips, Hongjoong sat up and grabbed the bottle of lube to pour some over Mingi’s cock. Withdrawing his fingers, Hongjoong shifted until he was straddling Mingi’s waist, holding his cock in position and rocking his hips until the fat head of it caught his rim.
“Mingi-ya,” Hongjoong crooned, his voice shaking at the teasing pressure of Mingi’s cock against his hole. Mingi twitched at Hongjoong’s voice, brow furrowing all over again. Smiling, Hongjoong said, “Mingi-ya, wake up.”
And just like that, Mingi’s eyelids fluttered as he sucked in a sharp breath through his nose, and Hongjoong sunk down onto his dick in one single motion.
The noise Mingi made as his eyes flew open was punched-out and shattered, his breath catching in his throat as his big hands wrapped around Hongjoong’s tiny waist, holding him tightly as he tried to gather his bearings. Hongjoong was still catching his own breath from the sudden fullness, choking on the way it felt like Mingi’s cock was in his fucking throat. With a fortifying breath that sounded a lot like a whimper, Hongjoong lifted himself up onto his knees and dropped back down onto Mingi, bouncing on his dick with jerking little motions because he was already too wound up to do any better.
It was hotter than Hongjoong thought it would be, waking Mingi up like that, watching him blink away the sleep while groaning and cursing breathlessly, the way Mingi’s fingers dug into his hips hard enough to leave bruises as he sloppily tried to guide Hongjoong’s movements. It was the messiest they had fucked since the first time they fell into bed together years ago, but it was perfect.
Hongjoong could tell the exact moment Mingi fully woke up.
The hands on his waist shifted just slightly, and Hongjoong could feel Mingi’s legs bending behind him. Mingi’s expression, previously pinched and somewhat overwhelmed and confused, sharpened with an intensity that took Hongjoong’s breath away. It was all the warning he had before Mingi met Hongjoong’s next bounce with a thrust so powerful Hongjoong had to brace himself against the headboard.
“Yes, Mingi-ya, just like that,” Hongjoong cried throwing his head back as Mingi thrust up into him.
“Fuck,” Mingi all but growled, his eyes rolling back and his whole body shuddering. With a low, gravelly moan, Mingi said, “Lean back, wanna see.”
And Hongjoong did just that, leaning back and bracing himself on Mingi’s bent knees while he bounced, giving the other rapper as much of a show as he could muster. The slight change in position, however, had Mingi’s cock rubbing and hitting Hongjoong in just the right spot for him to be seeing stars.
To top it all off, Mingi was staring down the length of his body to where theirs were connected, biting his luscious bottom lip while he watched Hongjoong’s hole stretch around his massive cock.
“Mingi, I’m so close—” Hongjoong started to whimper, feeling the coil rapidly tightening in his gut.
“Me too,” Mingi moaned, and then one of his hands shifted from Hongjoong’s waist to instead wrap tightly around his dick, stripping it in time with his thrusts.
That was all it took to have Hongjoong practically screaming Mingi’s name as he came, painting Mingi’s chest and even his throat with his cum. Next thing he knew, Hongjoong found himself on his back, practically folded in half as Mingi fucked him harder and faster than whatever they had managed prior to that moment. Hongjoong was beside himself, eyes rolled back, tongue lolling out, his breaths coming out with the tiniest, highest little vocalizations as oversensitivity shot electricity up his spine.
“Need to come,” Mingi gasped as Hongjoong clenched around his cock. “So close, Hongjoong.”
“Then come, Mingi-ya,” Hongjoong gasped, practically begged as the sensations began to veer into painful territory. “Please, please come. Wanna feel you fill me up.”
And just like that, Mingi was coming, crashing their lips together as he sobbed through his own release. Hongjoong let out a delighted, strained little giggle as he felt the hot bloom of Mingi’s cum deep inside him, his own soft cock twitching with attempted interest in spite of how sensitive his entire body felt.
Mingi was still catching his breath when he pulled out and flopped onto his side next to Hongjoong, careful not to smear the cum all over his torso on the sheets. While Hongjoong normally appreciated a bit of space after sex, which was likely what the other rapper was trying to give him, this time he wanted to crawl inside Mingi’s skin. With a pouty little sound, Hongjoong rolled over until he was wrapped around Mingi, the mess he made all over Mingi smearing between their naked chests, their mouths slotted together in a messy kiss.
“Holy shit, the was the best way to wake up,” Mingi groaned as Hongjoong broke the kiss to breathe. He looked halfway to falling back asleep already, which was a terribly sweet look on him that had Hongjoong fighting the urge to bite him again.
Hongjoong sighed happily. “Finding my Mingi-ya naked in my bed was the best way to come home,” he countered affectionately, resting his chin on Mingi’s chest. “I wouldn’t complain if you did that more often.”
Mingi laughed softly at that before nodding. “Anything for you, hyung,” he promised, guiding Hongjoong back up into a slow, tender kiss that had Hongjoong swooning for Mingi all over again.
Tag List: @yunho-s @hxneyfarm @semisweettragedy
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out of the dark and into a dream
[kinktober 2025 fill]
Explicit★WooGi★1466 words★Complete
Summary:
See, Mingi was almost never one to succumb to tears in most other situations, least of all in front of any cameras or Atiny, so it wasn’t a common sight to see.
But in private, the rapper was such a needy, whiny slut, especially under Wooyoung’s almost mean hand, it was easy to drive him to a pathetic, sobbing mess.
Tags & CW:
Deepthroating, Rough Oral Sex, Dacryphilia, Dom/sub, Dom Jung Wooyoung, Sub Song Mingi
Decided to post this on my main blog to see if I get better traction than using my writing blog!
[ READ ON AO3 ]
There was truly something addictive about having someone like Song Mingi like this—on his knees with his hands clasped behind his back, throat and chin soaked with thick globs of spit, eyes hazy, lips swollen and such a deep shade of red one would think he was still wearing a tint. And the tears—God, how Wooyoung loved how wet Mingi’s eyes were, how more than a few tears had already fallen over the course of their session and soaked his cheeks.
See, Mingi was almost never one to succumb to tears in most other situations, least of all in front of any cameras or Atiny, so it wasn’t a common sight to see.
But in private, the rapper was such a needy, whiny slut, especially under Wooyoung’s almost mean hand, it was easy to drive him to a pathetic, sobbing mess.
Mingi looked up at Wooyoung through his damp eyelashes and opened his pretty mouth to speak, but all that came out was a sticky gurgle. Clearing his throat, Mingi spat another thick string of saliva out to join the mess on his chin with a shuddering, moan that sounded more like a growl with how abused his throat already was.
“Please,” he rasped, blinking a few more tears free from his lashes as he stared adoringly up at Wooyoung. “Please.”
That was the most intoxicating part for Wooyoung. That Mingi could look so ruined, so abused even, and he still looked up at Wooyoung like he hung the moon and the stars and everything in between. It was so damn sweet, he wanted to drop the charade and give the rapper everything he ever wanted.
“Please, what, sweetheart?” Wooyoung asked instead, his words gentle but his tone condescending. “Use your words.”
“Want you in my mouth again,” Mingi whimpered, sinful lips quivering as Wooyoung’s grip in his hair kept him away from what he wanted so badly.
“Mm, I think you can ask nicer than that, sweetheart,” Wooyoung replied flatly, struggling with his desire to immediately acquiesce. It was always hard staying in character, and it took a while for him to build up the baseline tolerance for Mingi’s inherent sweetness. But Wooyoung knew that the reward for holding strong was well worth it.
“Please, let me suck your cock again,” Mingi whined, looking pleadingly up at Wooyoung with his eyebrows pinched so beautifully. But there was something in his eyes that hinted at defiance in a way that Wooyoung didn’t approve of.
Shifting his balance, Wooyoung pressed the sole of his boot up against Mingi’s weeping cock, relishing in the way that defiance immediately drained from the rapper’s eyes. Immediately, Mingi tried to squirm away, but Wooyoung’s tight grip on his hair kept him in place.
“Ask properly, Mingi,” Wooyoung says sternly, pressing his boot into Mingi’s cock just a bit harder, grinning as more tears sprung to his eyes.
Sobbing, Mingi’s eyes fluttered as a beautiful flush lit up his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “Please, I wanna suck your cock so bad, want you to fuck my face. I wanna choke on it until you come. Wanna taste your cum so bad, Wooyoung, please, please, please,” he babbled desperately, tears beginning to fall again.
The sight of the new tears was enough to make Wooyoung moan, and at that he let his knee flop to the side while he kept his foot pressed to Mingi’s cock. Releasing his hair, Wooyoung gestured toward his cock and said, “get to work, then.”
Mingi leaned forward to take Wooyoung into his mouth, letting out a pained whimper as the movement forced him to press his cock even harder into the boot on his dick. But like the beautiful, perfect slut he was, Mingi pushed through until his mouth closed around Wooyoung’s cock.
Wooyoung let Mingi control the pace for a few moments, just enjoying the way his tongue worked his dick so perfectly, relishing in the quiet little gags Mingi made when he wasn’t careful enough. When Mingi started to look blissed out, Wooyoung knew it was time to take control. Not to mention, he was quite close after everything they had already done so far.
Shifting his feet, removing the one that was notched against Mingi’s cock in favour of bracing both on the floor, Wooyoung rested his elbows on the arms of his chair before lacing his fingers together on the back of Mingi’s head, tangling them in his hair.
“Deep breath, Princess,” Wooyoung said mockingly before he thrust up into Mingi’s mouth before he could have possibly registered his words. Ignoring the way Mingi gagged, Wooyoung held himself right there, moaning loudly as Mingi’s throat constricted around the head of his cock.
From there, Wooyoung started a selfish, brutal pace fucking Mingi’s perfect mouth, eyes rolling back every time Mingi gagged and choked on him. When he was dangerously close, Wooyoung dropped into the chair and lifted Mingi’s head to get a good look at him one last time.
Mingi was an absolute wreck, eyes completely glazed over, his chin and neck absolutely soaked with thick, stringy saliva, and his cheeks wet with tears that were still falling. He was gorgeous like that, sobbing out gurgling little pleas, barely understandable at that point.
“I’m going to come, Princess,” Wooyoung said, swiping a hand through the mess of spit on Mingi’s throat before wrapping it around his own cock and stroking. “You’re going to swallow every last drop.”
Mingi sobbed and nodded as much as the hand in his hair allowed. “Please, please, I’ll be so good, I want it so much,” he babbled desperately, eyes rolling back as a fresh wave of tears spilled down his messy cheeks.
That’s what does it for Wooyoung, as always—the tears.
The moment he felt the coil in his gut about to snap, Wooyoung dragged Mingi back onto his cock until his perfect lips are wrapped around the base, his beautiful nose pressed against his pelvis. Mingi gagged beautifully, especially as Wooyoung’s release spilled straight down his throat, and even though he choked the whole time, he managed to swallow almost all of it.
When Wooyoung lifted Mingi up off of his cock that time, he immediately cupped his tear-stained cheeks with both hands. “You were so perfect, Princess,” Wooyoung cooed happily, finally allowing the warmth he felt for the beautiful man kneeling at his feet fill his voice. “What do you want, baby?”
Mingi sobbed, choking a bit on the spit and cum he was still working on swallowing, before saying, “wanna come. Please, I wanna come.”
“Oh, sweet thing, you know you don’t have to wait for that,” Wooyoung breathed, even though Mingi’s restraint always filled him with pride. Denying Mingi his release was never something Wooyoung cared enough to do in the first place, and didn’t enjoy doing it when he gave it a try once or twice. Denying Mingi was never necessary to get the man to cry like he enjoyed.
“Wanted your hand,” Mingi confessed quietly, sucking in a shuddering breath. “Please, Wooyoung, want you to touch me.”
Warmth burst in Wooyoung’s chest, and he immediately nodded. “You’ve definitely earned it, baby,” he cooed warmly before he leaned down and kissed Mingi’s slack, messy mouth. Pulling away he stood up and stepped to the side. “Lean forward, arms crossed on the chair.”
Mingi immediately obeyed, and Wooyoung ruffled his sweaty hair affectionately. As Mingi got into position, Wooyoung knelt behind him, draping himself over Mingi’s back and wrapping his arms around him until both of his hands are on his thick cock.
“Take what you need, baby,” Wooyoung sighed, pressing a delicate kiss to Mingi’s shoulder blade.
That was all the permission that Mingi needed before he was jerking his hips forward, sobbing out a breathless, “thank you.”
It didn’t take long, only three or four thrusts before Mingi was tensing up in Wooyoung’s arms and practically screaming as he came all over the floor. Wooyoung cooed endless praise as he tightened his fists around Mingi, stroking his cock and milking every last drop from his release until Mingi whimpered a weak, “too much.”
Releasing Mingi’s softening cock, Wooyoung instead wrapped his arms around his middle and held him while Mingi caught his breath. There was a lot of cleaning up to do, and Mingi had a lengthy and hands-on aftercare ritual to attend to after such an intense session, but Wooyoung allowed them a few moments to bask in a gentle embrace together.
“Love you, Wooyoungie,” Mingi mumbled into his crossed arms, and Wooyoung felt his whole body light up.
With a terribly fond smile, Wooyoung leaned up and pressed a sweet kiss to the corner of Mingi’s jaw, and murmured, “love you, too, Mingi-ya.”
Tag List: @yunho-s @hxneyfarm
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It was clear the direction Mingi’s actions were heading, and Hongjoong knew he should walk away, or knock and stop Mingi before he properly started.
He knew it was wrong to watch what was about to happen.
Tags & CW:
Voyeurism, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent
[ READ ON AO3 ]
Hongjoong was about to head home for the night when he remembered Mingi telling him that he’d be staying late running through some of his solo choreography. The other rapper didn’t stop by the studio on his way out to say goodnight as he normally would, so Hongjoong could only assume he was still in the dance studio.
With a fond huff, Hongjoong shifted the strap of his bag up onto his shoulder before heading that way. It felt odd, being the one saying goodnight first, Hongjoong mused to himself.
The lights were already turned low in the hallway outside of the dance studio, but the lights inside were still on which meant that Mingi was definitely still there. With the frosted glass in the door, the studio lights added a bit of illumination to the dark hallway that Hongjoong appreciated.
As he approached, Hongjoong could hear the pounding beat of Mingi’s song, and his smile broadened. It was perfect for Mingi, and he couldn’t be prouder of the other rapper for creating it.
As he came up to the door, he paused before opening it and instead peeked through the line of clear glass, excited to see some of what Mingi had prepared. Hongjoong knew he’d be seeing it soon enough, what with preparing for the world tour and everything, but a little sneak preview wouldn’t hurt.
What he wasn’t prepared for was the sight of Mingi shirtless, wearing a pair of grey sweatpants slung low enough on his hips that the waistband of his Calvin Klein boxer-briefs was fully visible. Hongjoong had an excellent view of Mingi’s muscled back, but also his front in the wall of mirrors he was performing in front of. The other rapper’s pale skin was shiny with sweat, his hair soaked with it as well and shoved back out of his face.
Hongjoong felt a burst of saliva flood his mouth as he imagined tasting Mingi’s skin before he forcibly dismissed those thoughts. That was no way to be thinking about Mingi, he scolded himself, though that was far from the first time he had thought those things. It was far from the worst thoughts he’d had about Mingi, that was for sure.
Internally shaking the thoughts from his head, he returned his full attention to monitoring Mingi’s movements as he went through the paces of his choreography. Hongjoong’s eyes tracked the powerful swings of Mingi’s arms, the fluid way his body moved and rolled with the music. It seemed that Mingi was mostly testing out different facial expressions as he ran through the same block of choreography over and over, and Hongjoong found himself actually calming down a bit.
Hongjoong was about to make his presence known once he had gotten control of his thoughts when Mingi reached down and grabbed his crotch, biting his plump bottom lip and tipping his head back with a smirk. With his other hand, he lifted it above his head in his special little salute. The line of his long body was gorgeous under the white light of the studio, shimmering with sweat as it was. With the unforgiving lighting, there was no missing the way Mingi’s grip on his crotch shifted just enough that it was clearly wrapped around the very hard length of his cock through the layers of his clothes.
Releasing a shaky breath, Hongjoong felt his own arousal pulsing within the snug confines of his slacks.
Inside the studio, Mingi lowered his hand to lean the same elbow against the mirror in front of him, head dropping forward as he massaged the thick bulge in his pants. It was clear the direction Mingi’s actions were heading, and Hongjoong knew he should walk away, or knock and stop Mingi before he properly started.
He knew it was wrong to watch what was about to happen.
With that thought, Hongjoong looked toward the reflection of the door in the mirror. With a start, he realized that with the dim lights in the hallway against the bright lights inside the studio, paired with the frosting of most of the glass, he was barely visible where he stood. That revelation had something flip-flopping in Hongjoong’s gut, his gaze swinging back to Mingi’s reflection.
While he had been distracted, Mingi had slipped a hand below his waistband, touching himself properly. Hongjoong’s eyes were riveted to the movement of Mingi’s hand within the confines of his pants, and he lamented that he couldn’t actually see what Mingi was doing. While Hongjoong had seen Mingi in various states of undress over the years, he’d never had the pleasure of seeing Mingi hard, so he could only imagine the length and girth.
The thought alone had Hongjoong salivating all over again.
With a shaky moan of his own, Hongjoong got his fly open and shoved a hand down the front of his pants to get some relief, eyes locked on Mingi’s crotch in the reflection to maintain some semblance of restraint. He wouldn’t be able to look at Mingi’s face, he knew himself well enough for that.
After a couple minutes, Mingi turned around and leaned his back against the mirror, and to Hongjoong’s simultaneous delight and dismay, Mingi shoved his pants and underwear down to his knees, putting himself on full display.
“Oh, fuck,” Hongjoong gasped, watching Mingi’s long fingers wrap around his huge cock, and he desperately stroked himself, keeping pace with the other rapper.
It was heady, standing there and watching Mingi pleasure himself, knowing the whole time that he should walk away. Hongjoong knew he shouldn’t be standing there, that if he got caught, Mingi would have every right to report him.
Mingi’s other hand moved from where it was hanging next to his hip, snatching Hongjoong’s attention instantly. He watched, mouth going dry, as Mingi’s long fingers dragged along the bumps and ridges of his abs, trailing through the sheen of sweat on its way to his chest. When his fingers landed on one of his nipples, Mingi gently rolled his thumb over it, and Hongjoong could see the way he moaned at the new stimulation with the way his entire chest expanded and shuddered.
The sight made Hongjoong want to storm in and immediately attach his mouth to the neglected nipple. He wanted to make the gorgeous man bleed with how much he wanted to taste and claim and take.
With a too-loud groan of his own, Hongjoong braved looking at Mingi’s face again, wanting to see what he looked like lost in desire like that, and his veins filled with ice.
Mingi’s head was tipped forward, some of his sweat-damp hair falling forward and hanging a bit in front of his face, his gorgeous mouth open with whatever sinful sounds Hongjoong was sure he was making. What had Hongjoong freezing were Mingi’s eyes, heavy-lidded and hazy, but ultimately looking directly at the door where Hongjoong was hiding.
Mingi was looking directly at him, meeting his gaze even from across the room.
Hongjoong tried to move from his spot, to turn around and flee, to go inside and beg for forgiveness, something that wasn’t just standing there jerking off—because naturally, his hand hadn’t stopped despite getting caught. Actually, it appeared he was even harder, and a truly humiliating glob of precum blurted from the tip.
As Hongjoong struggled for a response that wasn’t continued masturbation, Mingi tipped his head back with a sinful roll of his eyes and slowly sunk to his knees, looking up through his lashes at the door. Sucking in a sharp breath, Hongjoong watched as Mingi opened his mouth and lolled his tongue out, lifting the hand that was teasing his chest so that he could suck on his own fingers suggestively. When Mingi’s eyes fluttered open to meet Hongjoong’s gaze again, the message was loud and clear.
Mingi wasn’t just okay with Hongjoong watching him like this, he liked it, and he wanted more.
Letting go of his own cock, Hongjoong opened the door to the dance studio and stepped inside.
Taglist: @hxneyfarm @yunho-s
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and how do i apologize
(and put the tears back in your eyes)
Rating: Teen
Pairing: Zayne x Named MC
Characters: Zayne, Named MC
Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Somft, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Summary: MC posts one of her drafts of a crash-out she had several weeks ago that Zayne had no idea happened.
Words: 1,896
A/N: Based on this reel I saw earlier today. Couldn't help but make it about Zayne and my MC, Lydia. I can't write in second person.
Zayne blinked down at his phone, frowning as the video automatically looped. Opening the caption, he read it again— “i was being so dramatic 😭 this was too funny to leave in my drafts” — and his brow furrowed even further.
The video was short, with Lydia sitting on the floor in her kitchen while she opened some take-out. Her eyes were glassy, her cheeks flushed and damp with tears.
“Hi,” she said in a watery, shaky voice that was almost cheerful. “Join me as I eat take-out on my floor…”
The video cut to a close-up of her face as she visibly suppressed a sob before she added, “because today really sucked.”
Zayne was absolutely heartbroken as he watched her “crash-out” unfold, tilting his head as he tried to glean when this video was actually recorded because it couldn’t have been in the last few days. He and Lydia had been practically inseparable, and he had personally prepared all of her meals. They were about to go on holiday, so she’d been at his apartment in the few days leading up to the trip.
“I didn’t cry at work, though,” Lydia said, which confirmed for Zayne that this was at least three days ago. “Okay, actually, I did cry a little bit at work, but only two tears and they just streamed out really quietly, so, no one could tell.”
The video cut to Lydia showing the camera her food. “Ten out of ten, you should eat it,” she sobbed, and Zayne had the absurd thought to be proud of how much of the meal was actually a salad.
“This is probably gonna be funny later, but it’s not funny right now,” Lydia said in a wobbly voice as she grimaced around another wave of tears. Zayne felt his eyes prickle as the video cut to a point after Lydia had calmed herself back down. She waved a napkin and said, “Very kind of them to include free Kleenexes. I think they’re intended for napkins, but y’know. They have many uses.”
Zayne opened the comments while Lydia rambled a bit, looking for any sort of clue about when this happened.
Tara: when was this, bestie 😭
→ Lydia replied: a couple weeks ago i think 😂 idk it was in my drafts and was so funny
With that frame of reference, Zayne wracked his brain for any memory from a couple weeks ago where he somehow missed Lydia having a bad day. With everything going on at the hospital, he was struggling to remember what he had been doing two or three weeks ago.
“I didn’t wanna eat alone,” Lydia said softly, before she trailed off into a sob as she said, “which is why I’m recording this.”
Zayne couldn’t take another second of the video, but he forced himself to sit through it as punishment for missing her struggling so badly.
“How does it feel to be happy? I don’t know, but I used to know so that means… I’ll know again,” Lydia wobbled, and Zayne’s chest ached. “We cannot control others, and we cannot control situations, but we can. Control. Ourselves.”
The video cut one last time, and Lydia was clearly giving up on trying not to cry. “Gonna be a rough couple’a weeks boys and girls and theys,” she sobbed and Zayne closed Moment before it could loop again, standing up to leave his home office.
Lydia was exactly where he knew she would be; curled up on the couch and wrapped up in a blanket, scrolling through her phone happily. She was so beautiful, even with her hair a mess from what was likely an impromptu nap, even with her cheek smooshed with the way she had it resting against her knee. In the next moment, Lydia’s vibrant eyes flashed up to meet his gaze and she sat up straighter with a grin.
“Done working for real now? We fly out tomorrow, so you better be,” she said with a faux sternness that would have had Zayne smiling any other time. Lydia frowned, and he almost wanted to curse how well she could read him, especially now that he apparently missed a critical moment when she was upset. “You okay, Zayne?”
With a small sound, Zayne closed the distance and picked Lydia up off the couch so he could sit back down with her in his lap. With a heavy sigh, he wrapped his arms around her tightly and rested his cheek on the top of her head.
“When did you record that video, my love?” he asked softly, and Lydia tensed.
“I dunno, a couple weeks ago?” Lydia said, and Zayne could hear the hesitation in her tone, which he knew meant she wasn’t being completely honest. That either meant the video was recorded more recently, or she knew exactly when she recorded it.
“Sweetheart,” Zayne chided in a whisper, and Lydia grumbled to herself quietly.
“It’s just a silly video,” she mumbled. “It was just a funny crash-out I had in the middle of a rough week.”
“We clearly have different understandings of the words ‘silly’ and ‘funny,’ my love,” Zayne said, and he felt Lydia deflate in his embrace. With a sigh, he said, “in that video, I saw the love of my life crying, feeling like she was completely alone. That when she was sad, her only choice was to sit on her kitchen floor alone and eat mediocre take-out while she cried. That… she had a bad day, and I never even realized.”
“Zayne, baby,” Lydia gasped as she pulled away just enough to hold his face between her hands. “It wasn’t like that. By the time I saw you that day, I was completely fine—”
“So, you do know when you recorded it,” Zayne said, resting his forehead against Lydia’s. “But trying to hide that means it had something to do with me.”
“It mostly had to do with my period, actually,” Lydia tried to deflect, which immediately narrowed down the timeframe and suddenly, Zayne knew roughly when that video was recorded.
“You recorded that when I was in Chansia last month?” Zayne whispered, closing his eyes tightly as his throat constricted. “You could have called me, my love…”
Lydia sighed and shook her head. “Not quite… I mean, you were about to leave, yeah, and you were super busy. We were barely seeing each other, and then you were going to be gone for two weeks. So, we planned to have lunch together,” she said softly, and Zayne opened his eyes to meet hers again. “I ended up having to deal with a wanderer attack, so I missed our lunch date. By the time everything was settled and my reports were in… you were already on your way to Chansia, so I couldn’t even call you.”
Zayne remembered that day, remembered the way he almost rescheduled his flight so he would see his hunter before he left, but it just wasn’t possible. He was needed early the next morning, and the last flight to Chansia departed before dinner. Zayne had a full day between the appointments and surgeries he had on the books, so there was little chance to leave his work even earlier than he already had to for his flight. When Lydia texted him after she was dispatched to handle a wanderer attack, he knew he wouldn’t see her before he left, which made him feel worse about having to leave at all.
Things had been hectic at the hospital leading up to his trip, so he had been working very long hours, which often meant that he went days with only seeing Lydia for short fifteen-minute periods around lunchtime. When her own job interfered with their plans in the way his so often did, he felt an intense stab of guilt for allowing his job to steal so much time from them. He had made a resolution that he would do more to ensure he wasn’t neglecting Lydia, and another resolution that he would absolutely carve out time for Lydia ahead of a trip like the one he took to Chansia.
But as Lydia said, when they video chatted that evening, she was in a bubbly mood, if a bit pouty. She admitted to being a bit put-out about not seeing Zayne before he left, but there was nothing to imply just how sad she had been.
“Why didn’t you tell me how upset you were, my love?” Zayne asked gently, and Lydia puffed out her cheeks. Zayne smiled softly and poked one of her cheeks. “Please, talk to me.”
Lydia huffed. “I knew if I felt shitty, you probably felt even worse, so… why pile my shit on top of you, too?” she said, shrugging one shoulder. “Plus, it was my fault we didn’t get to see each other before you left, so it was kinda rich to cry about it to you—”
“It wasn’t your fault, Dia,” Zayne whispered, lifting a hand to cup her cheek. “There was a wanderer attack, you were the closest, most capable hunter. And… I could have done a better job of making time for you leading up to my trip.”
“Uh-huh, I’m sure that’s possible as the chief cardiac surgeon,” Lydia scoffed and Zayne shook his head.
“Do not let me off the hook because of my position. I… do not have to take on everything,” he said and Lydia gave him a sceptical look. “I am aware that this is something I have to work on quite a bit.”
“Is this why you suggested our holiday?” Lydia asked, and Zayne nodded.
“It is. I missed you terribly while I was away, and I wanted to have as much uninterrupted time with you as possible,” he replied, his chest so full of love for her that it was almost painful.
With a soft noise, Lydia shifted her body so that she was straddling Zayne’s lap, pressing her body flush to his as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about being sad. I’m sorry for posting the video, too,” she said and Zayne shook his head.
“It… is funny, now that we’ve sorted out some of the context. You were being very dramatic,” he said in a whisper, shrugging at Lydia’s baffled expression. “What upset me about the video was the feeling that I failed you somehow, my love. The video itself… that’s yours to share however you want.”
Lydia cupped his face with both hands and smiled sweetly down at him. “I love you, Zayne,” she murmured, pressing somehow even closer to him.
With a hungry, low sound, Zayne captured her lips in a kiss. “I love you,” he whispered against her lips, wrapping his arms even tighter around her, his hands slipping up inside the back of her oversized sweater to feel her soft skin. “I love you so much, Lydia.”
With a cheeky grin, Lydia said, “how about you show me just how much you love me?” She punctuated her little challenge with a devious swivel of her hips and Zayne couldn’t help the shaky, barely audible moan that escaped his throat.
With a quiet chuckle, Zayne wrapped his hands around the bottoms of Lydia’s thighs and stood up, easily caring her weight to the bedroom. “Of course, my love, and I will make sure to be quite thorough.”
Rating: Mature (Sexual Content, nothing explicitly described)
Pairing: Sylus x Named MC
Characters: Sylus, Named MC, Caleb
Tags/Warnings: Sexual Content, Accidental Voyeurism
Summary: Sylus & MC attend an auction being run by EVER. Caleb is also there.
Words: 8,056
A/N: So this.... is possibly the first part in a series. Also I'm using the name of my MC for this because... I cannot write in second person at all. Like, it's just Not Good so... please enjoy my MC!
The limo slowly pulled up outside the brightly lit mansion, and Sylus let out a derisive little chuckle. “The endless fascination with lighting the night up brighter than the sun itself will never cease to amaze me,” he groused with an elegant sneer.
Without hesitating, Lydia popped open her clutch and pulled out a pair of tinted glasses. The lenses were round with a gold bridge and diamond encrusted arms. When Sylus just blinked at them, she jiggled them insistently.
“Either take ‘em or stop complaining,” she deadpanned, but the small uptick to the corner of his mouth made her stomach swoop.
“So thoughtful, Kitten. Not sure how much that tint will actually do,” he hummed as he took the glasses. With a snap of his fingers, the diamonds became a deep, ruby red.
Lydia rolled her eyes. “Put them on before you complain about their quality. Some new technology was used in the tinting process, so they block out more light without looking too dark,” she explained as he put them on, and the begrudgingly impressed expression that overtook his face filled Lydia with smug pride.
“How much did these cost you, Kitten?” Sylus asked in a low growl, eyes narrowed. “You know you’re not supposed to be spending your money on me.”
“It cost me a dinner with a friend and a favour for his associate,” she replied haughtily, glaring at the way Sylus’ eyebrows raised. “Just accept the gift, Sy. For a man who supposedly has everything, you didn’t have those, so the least you could do is pretend to be grateful.”
“Oh, but I am grateful, Sweetie,” Sylus crooned with the closest thing to a grin his face could muster as he leaned close, as if to kiss her. Lydia scoffed and turned her face away with a spectacular pout, catching the kiss on the hinge of her jaw. Sylus’ growled against her ear as he asked, “how would you like to receive my most heartfelt thanks, Dove?”
Shivering, Lydia opened her mouth to respond— likely with something completely filthy that would’ve ended the mission extremely early— when the partition slid open.
“About to pull up, Boss,” Kieran called back, and Lydia jolted away. When she looked at the partition, Luke was peering back at them. Despite the mask, his knowing smirk was obvious. She could see it in his general aura.
The moment the limo stopped, a doorman opened the car door closest to Sylus.
“You know what to do, boys,” he said before he stepped out.
“Yes, sir!”
Lydia leaned forward and added, “remember to count to at least two-thousand first.”
Her words were met with a couple grumbles before a much less enthusiastic, “yes, ma’am.”
With that, Lydia reached out to accept Sylus’ waiting hand, allowing him to steady her as she stepped out of the car. She was immensely grateful for his assistance when the blast of flashing lights of cameras immediately overwhelmed her vision. Miraculously, she managed to keep her footing steady as Sylus tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and they began their walk inside.
“You’re so tough on them,” Sylus commented, his tone a clear mixture of amusement and pride.
“And you spoil them,” Lydia responded, smirking up at him. He didn’t even bother to deny it, just hummed and cast an unaffected gaze across the crowd of reporters.
As they arrived at the doors, they produced both of their invitations. One was addressed directly to Sylus, and the other was to Genevieve St. Amour, the very elaborate alias Lydia used in the N109 zone.
Genevieve was supposedly the heiress of a crime syndicate, though she operated much of her business under the front of CoreFlux Enterprises, an investment firm that allegedly focused on Protocore-based energy. None of it was real, of course, but there was enough legitimate looking documentation to support her existence and the existence of her wealth that she was invited to a “charity” auction being run by EVER.
Since Lydia was there as Genevieve, that meant she was wearing her signature black half-veil, concealing her identity easily enough that the cameras weren’t much of a concern for her.
Once they were through the doors, their coats were immediately taken by the coat-check, and the two of them were ushered through a security checkpoint, searching them for weapons.
“How quaint,” Sylus said as he passed through the sophisticated metal detector. Lydia barely contained her snort at the condescending look he gave the young security guard working the terminal. The poor boy looked pale under Sylus’ bored gaze.
“Easy, darling,” Lydia said as she joined Sylus on the other side of the metal detector, placing a hand on his forearm. “Let the young man do his job in peace.”
Once they were cleared, they finally crossed the foyer toward the main ballroom.
“I’m impressed, Sy,” Lydia said in an almost bored tone. “This new toy did not disappoint.”
Despite all of the security, the small knife strapped to her thigh under the skirt of her dress went unidentified, just as Sylus had promised it would. That said, she did still have access to her arsenal, courtesy of the elaborate bracelet she wore. The moment she received the invitation, she went straight to Simone to ask if she could fit one of the bracelets Sylus picked for her with the components of a Hunter’s Watch that would allow her to summon her weapons. As always, she worked miracles and after multiple tests, Lydia was able to confirm that it worked perfectly. The knife was just a bit of added security.
“Only the best for you, Dove,” Sylus replied before pausing. “Perhaps we should enter separately.”
Lydia frowned before nodding. “Could be better to keep our connection quiet at first,” she agreed, and at that Sylus just smirked.
“True. Though, I just wanted to watch you enter,” he said frankly, smirking wider at Lydia’s disbelief. “What, Kitten? This venue has a stunning staircase, and I so rarely get to see you dressed up like this. I’m a simple man with simple wants.”
“There’s nothing simple about you,” Lydia said, happy that her veil covered most of her flushed face as she let go of his arm. Flapping her hands delicately at him, she said, “go on. Find the best vantage point to admire my figure as I enter.”
Sylus’ expression darkened with a hunger that made Lydia wish she could just fast-forward to the post-mission celebration. “Of course, Kitten.”
With that, Sylus entered the room so quickly that Lydia thought he used his Evol for a moment, but she was pretty sure he wouldn’t waste the energy on such a trivial thing so early in the evening. She listened to Sylus’ entrance get announced— citing his business as Qin Industries, which makes Lydia snort a bit— and waited, counting down from ten.
The comms unit, disguised as an intricate earring, in her right ear buzzed just before Sylus crooned, “alright, Kitten. I’m ready for your grand entrance.”
With an almost giddy little grin, Lydia smoothed out her skirt to compose herself and then stepped through the doors.
The ballroom at the base of the truly magnificent staircase was massive, ending in floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the ocean. The ceiling itself was stained-glass, depicting a scene that Lydia would have to admire in full later. At that moment, she focused on the crowd beneath her, looking for her crow.
“Introducing Mademoiselle Genevieve St. Amour, CEO of CoreFlux Enterprises.”
Lydia straightened her posture as the crowd of guests turned at the announcement. Tilting her head up to stare down the line of her nose, she began the careful descent down the stairs. She knew she looked good, amazing even. Sylus had spent hours with a designer ensuring she was in a show-stopping outfit for this.
The dress was an intricately embroidered number, with countless gems making the bodice glitter like stars. The overall dress beneath the embroidery was a sheer material that faded from dark blue at her shoulders and torso to a fiery orange through the skirt in a gradient. The design reminded Lydia of the flames of a bonfire reaching up into the night sky. The bodice covered most of her torso, right up to the base of her throat where it looped around with a snug collar. Several little straps wrapped around the backs of her shoulders to help keep the bodice in place, but other than that the entire expanse of her back was left bare. The final touch, which Sylus insisted on, was a dramatic thigh slit that easily showed off nearly the entire length of her left leg.
It was truly a stunning gown, yet the silence that met her entrance was almost enough to make her doubt herself.
A low, thick groan in her ear immediately put most of those doubts to rest. “Divine,” Sylus sighed when Lydia was almost halfway down the staircase.
Scanning the room imperiously, she tried to find Sylus in the crowd of onlookers. There were a lot of people, but she was certain she could find such a tall man with silver hair easily. But as she was taking another pass over the room, instead of the piercing red gaze of her partner, she met purple.
Somehow, Lydia managed not to stumble and quickly looked away. ‘Shit, what is he doing here? He never goes to these stupid events,’ she thought frantically, doing everything in her power not to sprint the rest of the way down.
Lydia stopped looking for Sylus as her mind went into overdrive looking for an escape route. Surely, Caleb wouldn’t recognize her, right? She was wearing a disguise, using an alias— an alias that used her actual last name, shit.
When she glanced over at Caleb again, he was still talking to someone next to him, but by his body language, he was excusing himself from whatever conversation they were having.
“Dove? What’s wrong?”
Sylus’ voice cut through Lydia’s panic as she reached the bottom of the stairs, and she immediately turned to enter the crowd in the opposite direction of Caleb.
“Where are you?” Lydia asked in a low voice, working to keep her pace leisurely and her demeanour polite as she passed people. She didn’t want to announce her location in the crowd by stirring up drama as she ran into people.
Just as she reached the other side of the room and broke through the edge of the crowd there, Lydia found herself frozen in place as an intense weight blanketed her whole body. It wasn’t so oppressive that it hurt, and she could probably fight against it, but for now she didn’t want to create too much of a scene. Even if she’d been caught, Sylus could still finish the job.
As the weight lifted from her shoulders, a strong grip wrapped around her wrist, which she immediately pulled away from.
“Get your hands off of me,” she snapped harshly, turning on her oldest friend. In a last ditch effort, she decided to stay in-character for as long as she could.
When she faced Caleb, she saw the flicker of doubt in his eyes, the way he almost apologized for his mistake. But then his eyes zeroed in on the Orion’s belt of beauty marks on her collarbone and his jaw clenched.
“Lydia–”
“How dare you use your Evol on me like that,” she continued sharply, sneering up at him. “I don’t care who you think you are, officer, but I’m a guest at this party and you’ll respect me as such.”
Caleb reached as if to grab Lydia again and she slapped his hand away. “Lydia, enough,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Who the hell is Lydia?” she spat, readjusting her glove which had started to fall down her forearm after Caleb grabbed her.
Caleb glanced at the people nearby who were starting to look over at them and whisper. In the comms unit in her ear, Sylus murmured, “I’m on my way, Sweetie.”
An interesting mixture of relief and fear wrenched her gut at that.
“Are you really going to do this?” Caleb asked in a low voice, just loud enough for Lydia to hear.
Lydia jutted out her chin defiantly. “Yes,” she responded just as quietly.
Caleb tensed, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he glanced at the party. Taking a deep breath that didn’t do anything to visibly calm him down at all, he looked back at Lydia. “Can I speak to you privately, just over here?”
Crossing her arms, Lydia cast an imperious gaze across the party, locking eyes with Sylus as he worked his way around the room, before she shrugged. “Fine,” she sighed, following Caleb a few short paces away until they are out of earshot of the other party-goers.
“What are you doing here?” he hissed the moment they were alone.
“I told you, I’m a guest. I have an invitation,” Lydia responded, lifting it for him to see. “Well, Genevieve has an invitation. But that’s me, so–”
“How many times do I have to tell you— no, beg you to stop being so reckless?” he asked, his voice quiet, but the anger and frustration was loud and clear. “You know how dangerous it is for you to be here–”
“I’m not a child, Caleb. I can handle myself,” Lydia interrupted, glaring at him through her veil. “How much do I have to do to prove that to you?”
Caleb shut his eyes and turned his face away a bit. “I’m not saying you’re a child, Dia,” he said slowly before adding, “but that doesn’t mean you’re capable of handling things by yourself.”
“I’m not here alone,” she growled, frustration bubbling over. “I brought back-up with me because I’m not stupid.”
Caleb’s eyes widened, confusion and betrayal both swimming in their purple depths. “You brought— who? Who would you bring with you?” Caleb asked, and his gaze shuttered with something akin to anger. “You didn’t ask me to back you up?”
Sadness washed over Lydia at that question, and part of her wished he had been an option for this. Truly, she wished she could have called him instead, just because she wanted to be partners in mischief with him again. But as long as he was the Colonel, with whatever modifications he has in place…
“You know why, Caleb,” she said as gently as possible, hoping the guilt and sorrow was clear in her voice.
Caleb’s nostrils flared as he flinched slightly and looked away, working to compose himself. “Who did you come with?” he asked again in a cold voice.
Before she can respond, Lydia felt Sylus arrive. Between the connection of their Aether Cores, and the way the nearby party-goers fell silent, Sylus’ presence behind her was obvious, even without the way Caleb’s eyes looked over her shoulder with immediate recognition and hatred.
“There you are, Kitten,” Sylus crooned as he draped an arm around Lydia’s shoulders. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
The silence between the three of them was heavy before Caleb scoffed. “You went to him for help?”
“Actually, I went to her,” Sylus responded, his tone dangerously bored.
“I’m not talking to you,” Caleb growled, and Sylus gave him a dangerous, toothy grin as he raised his hands in mocking surrender. With a sharp, final glare toward Sylus, Caleb returned his attention to Lydia. “Can I talk to you alone?”
Lydia’s heart hurt as she squared her shoulders and shook her head. “No. You can say your piece now or not at all,” she said as firmly as she could muster.
Caleb clenched his jaw and looked away as he collected his thoughts. “Fine. You want me to believe you’re capable of doing things on you’re own and then you bring a criminal as back-up?” he asked in a low voice.
“Caleb,” Lydia warned, clenching her jaw as angry, hot tears stung the backs of her eyes. She knew she was capable, she knew that Sylus would have her back as he always did, she knew she made a smart call with the entire mission. However, Caleb had an amazing talent at making her feel like a stupid kid all over again.
“You insist you can take care of yourself, and I want to believe you, Dia. I do. But then you pull something like this–” Caleb cut himself off with a little flinch, took a deep breath, and said in a low voice, “is it any wonder I just want to take you away from everything and protect you? When you do things like this?”
Lydia felt the way Sylus’ fingers twitched on her shoulders and knew that it’s time to end this conversation. Sylus would only tolerate so many circles before he ended the argument his way.
“That’s enough, Caleb. Stay out of our way. Please,” she said, and her tone was firm enough that she could see Caleb falter a bit. It wasn’t very obvious, but she could see it in the way the corners of his eyes relaxed just a bit.
After a moment, Caleb stood up straight. “You’re making a mistake trusting him, Dia,” he insisted, as if he knew anything about Sylus.
“C’mon, Sy,” Lydia said instead of responding, slipping her arm around Sylus’ waist and leaning into him. “We’ve kept the Colonel long enough, and I was hoping to dance before the dinner begins.”
“Of course, Kitten,” Sylus hummed, smirking over at Caleb. At Caleb’s expression of rage— almost immediately wiped from his face with a flinch and a deep breath— Sylus leaned close to him and knocked one of his rings against Caleb’s right arm. “Careful, Colonel. Wouldn’t want you blowing a fuse.”
Before Caleb could respond, Sylus turned and led Lydia into the crowd of people, bound for the dance floor in the centre of the room.
Caleb seethed from across the room as he watched Lydia dance with that monster. He had read more than enough reports about Sylus Qin and his ruthless gang to know that Lydia shouldn’t be anywhere near him.
But there the two of them were, dancing and laughing as if they were friends— worse, lovers. Pressed close to each other, not an inch of space between them—
With a hiss, Caleb shook his head, ignoring the quiet warning from the Toring chip babbling in his mind. Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself down, and returned his gaze to Lydia.
Or at least, he tried to.
When he looked back toward the dance floor, Lydia was gone. Quickly scanning the room, he caught sight of Sylus first, his head of silver hair towering over the rest of the room.
Sure enough, Lydia was right next to him. She was holding the monster’s hand as she led him over to a corridor that went further into the mansion. The two of them were putting on quite the show, as if they were a pair of lovers sneaking away from the festivities for a tryst.
But Caleb knew they were just enacting whatever reckless plan Sylus got Lydia caught up in.
Caleb wished he was capable of just staying out of it, of just letting Lydia make her mistakes and suffer those consequences. He wished he could just stand there and let Sylus betray her so he could say, “I told you so.”
Truly, he wished there was a version of himself who could knowingly let Lydia get hurt like that.
However, he had already crossed the room and sneaked into the corridor behind them, listening closely to figure out where they had gone. A few metres down the hall, there was an open doorway with a dim light pouring out of, and Caleb could hear hushed voices.
‘I’ll just stay close and protect her when he turns on her,’ Caleb told himself, and he meant to do just that, too.
Then he heard a loud cry from Lydia, like a yelp of shock or pain, and Caleb rushed to the doorway.
The room was a modest office space, with a massive, wood desk set near a built-in bookcase. Lydia was sitting on the edge of the desk with her back to the doorway, as Sylus loomed over her, his red eyes glinting in the low lighting. Her legs were wrapped loosely around Sylus’ legs, and she propped herself on one hand behind her. Sylus had one hand tangled in her hair at the back of her head, while the other—
All at once it crashed down on Caleb what he walked into, what he was seeing and hearing. The breathless whimpers of Lydia, pleading with and praising Sylus, the slick movements of Sylus’ fingers beneath the skirt of Lydia’s gown. Caleb’s gut clenched and he felt a terrible throb below the belt, even as he felt more of that rage bubbling under the surface.
Sylus’ crimson gaze locked onto his over Lydia’s shoulder, pinning him in place. The monster didn’t even stop taking Lydia apart as they stared at each other.
Then Sylus smirked, dark and deadly, before returning his full attention to Lydia, dragging her into a filthy, deep kiss that had Caleb fighting to not to cross the room and get Sylus off of her. He didn’t want to embarrass Lydia in such a way, despite her terrible choice in partners.
Sylus released Lydia’s hair so he could wrap his arm around her waist, lifting her off the desk and spinning her toward a door next to the bookcase. He still had one hand under her dress, the wet noises of his fingers working her still audible, even as he walked.
“Sy?” Lydia whimpered breathlessly, and Sylus just hummed as he kicked the door to the en-suite open so he could step inside.
“I think I hear someone coming, Kitten,” he explained before kicking the door shut behind them, leaving Caleb gawking in the doorway of the office. He couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe, trying to reconcile what he knew about Lydia and what he just saw. An exultant cry from the bathroom broke Caleb from his stupor and he stumbled backward into the hallway.
Caleb knew he should leave, to head back to the banquet and pretend he didn’t see or hear any of that. But he still couldn’t just leave Lydia without proper backup. Sylus was going to take what he wanted from her, use her for his schemes, and abandon her the moment he was finished with her. The fact that he was even taking advantage of her like that set Caleb’s teeth on edge.
So, he retreated to a spot in the hall that provided him enough cover to conceal his presence and he went impossibly still and quiet. He could stand there for hours like that without blinking, barely even breathing thanks to one of the recent “enhancements” gifted to him by the Professor…
Lydia quivered as she twisted her fingers in Sylus’ hair, her head thrown back as she panted through the aftershocks of her last orgasm. When she felt the sharp press of teeth against the inside of her thigh, Lydia barked out a delirious little giggle and shoved at Sylus’ head.
“‘Nough, Sy,” she slurred, licking her lips and swallowing hard as she tipped her head forward to meet his crimson gaze. “We’ve still got work to do.”
“Mhm,” Sylus hummed, making a show of wiping his lips and then licking his fingers clean. “I’m well aware of the time, Kitten.”
The two of them lapse into an easy quiet as they got cleaned up and straightened out their clothes. Lydia spent a bit of extra time touching up her lipstick, before looking around to gather parts of her outfit that came off as Sylus took her apart.
“I have to work harder next time,” Sylus sighed explosively, and Lydia raised an eyebrow at him.
“What do you mean?” she asked with a sultry dip of her voice before walking her fingers across Sylus’ lap. “Short of letting you fuck me, I don’t think I could’ve came any harder, Sy.”
Sylus growled before flicking Lydia’s forehead gently. “You’re still frowning,” he said knowingly.
Lydia huffed and turned away, idly rubbing the spot Sylus flicked. “It’s nothing,” she lied, poorly.
“It’s the Colonel, isn’t it,” Sylus stated, not even bothering to pose it as a question.
Lydia glared over at Sylus. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mock me about this,” she said and something visibly softened in Sylus’ face.
Reaching out, he carefully hooked his fingers with hers, tugging her closer. “I wasn’t mocking, Dove. I… admit that I don’t understand you’re boundless patience for the Colonel’s habit of underestimating you. But I know a thing or two about how strong a bond of the heart can be.”
Lydia smiled weakly, lifting Sylus’ hand so she could press a kiss to his knuckles. “Thanks, Sy.”
“That said,” he hummed as he turned his hand to cup Lydia’s jaw. “I will not ‘play nice’ with him, so spare yourself the disappointment of asking.”
Lydia let out a small laugh. “Never would’ve expected you to, Sy,” she reassured him before smoothing out her skirt and checking her make-up in the mirror one last time. Turning back to the door to the small office they had stumbled into, she offered her hand to Sylus. “Shall we?”
Sylus just smiled and tangled their fingers together, letting Lydia lead him out to the hallway.
Just as they were about to return to the party, their comms link beeped.
“Got a problem, Boss-man.”
“On the way to your location.”
Almost as soon as the second message came through, one of the twins materialized out of the darkness at the end of the hallway. It was Kieran, and his hands fidgeted with a nervous sort of energy that usually meant a messy mission.
“Keeping eyes on the prize,” Kieran replied, tapping the corner of the eye in his mask. “We found the vault and we can get in.”
“But…” Sylus prompted, crossing his arms slowly.
“It won’t be discreet, Boss. Even if we were able to deal with the encryption on the locks, security gets notified every time the doors open. Either we wait until someone who’s supposed to enter the vault arrives and we take them out, or—”
“We prepare for a fight and blow the doors open,” Sylus finished, and Lydia could tell by the dangerous glint in Sylus’ eyes which plan he preferred. Kieran’s stance changed as Sylus’ mood shifted, and even Lydia could feel the excitement bubbling up inside her.
“What’s the plan then?” she asked, and Sylus crossed his arms in thought.
“The twins will be fine getting into the vault and getting what we’re here for. The two of us will be the welcoming party for anyone foolish enough to respond,” he replied, and Lydia nodded thoughtfully.
“Should we cut the power? Might slow the response down, or redirect some of it to getting the power back on,” Lydia mentioned, and Sylus frowned.
“Do we know where the main power supply is?” he asked.
“In the sub-basement, directly beneath the servant quarters,” Lydia and Kieran replied at the same time, high-fiving each other without missing a beat.
Sylus smirked and nodded slowly, but his frown persisted. “That’s an option.”
“What’re you thinking, Sy?” Lydia pressed.
Sylus gazed down at her for a moment before glancing at Kieran. “It’s a good plan, and it would give us more time in the vault,” he replied evasively and Lydia rolled her eyes.
“Then why are you frowning?” she pushed firmly.
“We would have to split up. The twins are best suited to get into the vault and collect what we’re here for, which leaves you and I to either fight security as the come to investigate the break-in, or descend two floors below this castle to cut the power,” Sylus explained quickly. “The person who cuts the power will likely be facing the heaviest opposition, and they’ll be doing it in the dark and no hope of back-up. Whoever is backing the twins up will only receive back-up if the one cutting the power is successful in getting back upstairs.”
Lydia found herself glaring as he finished his run-down of the risks. “You don’t think I can handle one of the tasks?” she asked, still smarting from Caleb’s comments earlier.
Sylus laughed a bit at that. “I would never doubt your capabilities, Kitten. I’ve seen them in action more than enough times. For this, however, the odds are not great for either of us,” he replied candidly. “I don’t like the idea of splitting up. However, it would give us a significant advantage if it works. It would be worth the risk…”
“I’ll go for the power, you back the twins up,” Lydia said, shrugging. “I know the layout of the sub-basement and I have a map if I need it. I might be able to sneak out without fighting anyone at all.”
“Sounds like a plan, Kitten,” Sylus agreed with a curt nod before he dragged Lydia in for a kiss. It was chaste, but it still left her a bit breathless when he pulled away. “See you soon.”
With that, Sylus let her go and as he stepped away to join Kieran, and they both disappeared into a red and black mist.
Taking a deep breath, Lydia headed to the sub-basement.
Sylus stood guard in the hallway a short distance away from the vault, idly rolling his shoulders out as he waited for the lights to go out. He could hear Lydia’s steady breathing in his ear, thanks to the comms link, but neither had spoken a word to each other since splitting up. Lydia’s mission required stealth, so Sylus would not distract her with needless conversation.
After what felt like decades, he finally heard, “It’s showtime, Sy.”
With that, the lights all around him in the hallway went out, and he could hear the sounds of various other systems shutting down with the loss of power.
There was a pregnant pause as they all waited, just to see if the enemy took the bait.
“I can hear movement, a lot of uniforms coming down the stairs to the sub-basement. Your turn.”
Despite the concern he had being separated from Lydia like this, he smiled. “Open sesame,” Sylus said slowly, and the twins activated the charges on the door to the vault.
Sylus leaned against the wall, waiting for the opposition to arrive, and when they did, their skill would have been laughable if it wasn’t so boring. It felt like fighting children, though the fight seemed to persist for too long with no sight of Lydia.
“Got the goods, Boss,” Luke said over the comms link.
Sylus frowned as he put down a couple more guards, looking around for Lydia. “Kitten, where are you?”
There was no response, and Sylus worked to keep himself calm. She probably just turned off her comms unit so she wouldn’t be distracted by his fight, he reasoned.
“Boss?”
“Get the car ready. We’ll be making a hasty exit,” Sylus replied, and he barely had time to react as a figure came around the corner at the end of the hall, aiming a gun directly at Sylus.
“I knew you’d just toss her aside once she served her purpose!”
Sylus dodged the bullets as the Colonel shot at him, sneering at him darkly before using his Evol to knock the gun out of his hand. “You truly are talented at jumping to conclusions, Colonel,” he drawled, grunting as the weight of Caleb’s Evol bore down on his shoulders. Shaking it off and relishing in the look of shock that crossed Caleb’s features, Sylus wrapped his black and red mist around the Colonel’s throat.
Just as Sylus was about to finish the Colonel, a familiar soldier appeared and raised an antimatter gun. Sylus barely threw up a barrier in time, the blast from the gun burning through most of it. As pain laced through his gut and side, Sylus grunted, “Shit.”
“Sy!” Lydia’s voice crackled through the comms link, filling Sylus with a relief so overwhelming he wanted to dance. “You need to get out of there! They’ve got–”
Before she could finish, the comms link cut out and Sylus could feel his Evol get smothered by something. Beside him, Caleb stumbled and gasped for breath as the black and red mist around his throat disappeared.
As the soldier took aim again, Sylus pulled out his own gun and shot their leg. The soldier’s knee buckled, and the antimatter gun went off, hitting the ceiling above them. A cascade of debris was about to come down from the floor above, and it would crush them if they didn’t move. Sylus moved to duck into a room next to them, and at the last second he grabbed Caleb, dragging him along behind him.
Shutting the door, the sounds of the floor above collapsing outside unmistakable. When the noises outside stopped, Sylus opened the door again to find nothing but rubble on the other side, blocking any exit that direction. Looking around the room they found themselves in, Sylus sneered as he realized it was more of a storage room without any windows.
While his Evol was suppressed, they would be stuck in that room while Lydia was out there on her own, and he had no way of contacting the twins or her. Sylus slammed the door shut again and turned his head toward Caleb.
“Well, Colonel,” Sylus said with a mocking smile, suppressing a flinch at the pain in his abdomen as he leaned his shoulder against the door. The room around them shook with what sounded like an explosion somewhere else in the mansion. “Thanks to your heroic antics, you and I will be waiting the rest of this fight out in here.”
As another explosion shook everything around them, Caleb hit the wall with a frustrated yell.
“Easy, Colonel. There’s no use in injuring yourself throwing a tantrum,” Sylus sighed, leaning against the door with his eyes closed. There was blood on his lips, and one of his hands was hidden beneath his coat where he held his side.
Caleb sneered and said, “Do me a favour and die faster.”
“Mm,” Sylus chuckled, opening his eyes to meet Caleb’s gaze. “Unfortunately, it would take more than this to kill me, even with my Evol suppressed.”
Caleb sucked his teeth and paced the small cell they found themselves in. “How are you this calm when Lydia’s out there alone?” he snapped after a minute of complete silence.
“Don’t mistake conserving my energy for calm, Colonel,” Sylus said flatly, before shrugging a shoulder. “Lydia’s a capable woman. I have faith in her abilities. If she can’t handle it, then we avenge her when we get out of this box.”
“No,” Caleb said sharply. “She can’t die. That isn’t an option.”
Sylus laughed at that, wincing a bit. “Death is always an option when mortality is in play, Colonel. Sometimes death is better than the alternative,” he said with a condescending smirk.
Caleb glared at Sylus. “Lydia dying is the worst possible outcome,” he all but growled at Sylus.
With a hum, Sylus nodded slightly and agreed, “for you, yes, I imagine it is.”
“You don’t even care about her at all, do you?” Caleb accused, disgust clear in his voice.
With a snort, Sylus rolled his eyes and carefully lowered himself until he was sitting on the floor.
“I have no interest in defending the depths of my adoration for Lydia, nor how undying my loyalty is,” he said, then added, “regardless, my feelings for her would have no bearing on whether she lives to breathe another day.”
At that, they lapsed into silence, listening for more sounds of what was happening beyond their cell. On the floor, Sylus tipped his head back against the door and hummed quietly. When Caleb looked closely, he could see the slight beading of perspiration on the criminal’s forehead and upper lip, giving away just how much pain Sylus was in.
After another handful of minutes without a word passing between them, Caleb crossed his arms and leaned against the wall opposite of the door.
“I’ll bite. What’s the worst outcome if death isn’t?” he asked, and Sylus’ lazy smirk just reignited Caleb’s anger.
“Do you really want to know?” Sylus practically purred, raising and eyebrow as he looked up at Caleb. Then with a conspiratorial look, he singsonged, “I don’t think you do…”
“Just spit it out, Qin,” Caleb growled.
As he said that, Sylus’ entire demeanour changed, the smirk and condescending playfulness leaving his expression completely for the first time the entire evening.
“A cage, Colonel,” Sylus said in a low, threatening tone that had a nauseating mix of guilt and dread swirling in Caleb’s gut. Then Sylus continued, “No matter how gilded and beautiful the cage is, Lydia would wilt. Wither away to a shade, a mere suggestion of her true self.”
Caleb’s nostrils flared as he glared down at Sylus. “I don’t want that either,” he finally said, and he hated how quiet his voice sounded. How indecisive.
Sylus scoffed. “Of course, you don’t want that, Colonel. No one wants that for someone they love, even when they’re threatening to do it,” Sylus agreed.
“I didn’t threaten anything like that,” Caleb growled and Sylus just grinned, showing off teeth that were pink with is own blood.
“You said it yourself, Colonel,” he said, licking his lips and swallowing. “That you would take her away, take her somewhere safe where its just the two of you, and you alone would protect her.”
“That’s— you’re twisting my words,” Caleb accused and Sylus just laughed.
“I’m repeating your words, Colonel,” he sighed before continuing. “Now, obviously you don’t want to put her in a cage, but you would still do it rather than risk the alternative. You would prefer putting her in a cage to her being dead.”
The awful ring of truth in Sylus’ words struck a chord in Caleb’s chest and he glared. “You don’t know anything about me. You barely even know Lydia,” he said instead, and at that, Sylus sneered.
“You would prefer to cage her and watch her soul waste away because of the sacrifices you think you made,” Sylus continued, his expression growing darker. “But the true heart of it? You want to do that to her because of the decisions you don’t actually want to live with.”
“Shut up,” Caleb growled, which Sylus took as his cue to stand back up.
“After selling your soul to the devil to supposedly keep her safe, what would it mean for you if she died anyway?” Sylus asked, and there was something cruel in his tone. Something mean with teeth, or the hooked beak of a carrion bird, ready to rip his flesh open.
“Shut up,” Caleb repeated as another chord is plucked.
“And especially if she died at the hands of the very devil you sold your soul to?” Sylus pushed, raising his eyebrows curiously. “What would that mean, Caleb?”
His own name coming from Sylus’ mouth jolted Caleb a bit. “Enough. Shut. Up,” he bit out.
Suddenly, Sylus was across the small room and looming over him somehow, despite them being close to the same height. Or at least, Caleb thought they were close to the same height.
“It would mean that there was no point to anything you’ve done since surviving that bomb,” Sylus said through gritted teeth, giving words to Caleb’s deepest fear with disgust clear on his features.
“That isn’t true–” Caleb started, but Sylus raised his hand between them, the one that should be covered in blood yet somehow wasn’t. In the next moment, Caleb realized that he couldn’t move at all, black and red mist curling around his arms and legs, and once again around his throat. It was holding him just tight enough that he couldn’t move. “How–?”
“No Evol suppressor can last very long against me,” Sylus explained flippantly, but there was a smugness to the upward twitch of his mouth. “It’s only a matter of time before I acclimate to the hostile conditions and overcome them.”
“You–”
“Enough,” Sylus snapped, voice sharp. “You are nothing but a willing tool for EVER, and the only way you can fool yourself into believing that you have purpose beyond that is by making her suffer your so-called ‘protection.’”
Caleb shook his head. “You don’t know me or Lydia, what me mean to each other, our promises to each other–”
“I am fully aware of how deeply you have your hooks in her,” Sylus interrupted, rolling his eyes again.
“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Caleb asked through his teeth, and Sylus sighed.
“You’re the most important person in her life,” he sneered, and at Caleb’s startled expression, he added, “she talks about you constantly, Colonel.”
Caleb smiled a bit smugly at that. “Funny, she’s never mentioned you, though,” he said, and Sylus’ cold laughter raised the hairs on the back of Caleb’s neck.
“Interesting that you seem to think that says anything about me,” Sylus crooned before he rolled his shoulders. Then he tilted his head with an alarmingly soft expression, looking away from Caleb for a moment. “Of course I’m still here, Kitten.”
“Dia?” Caleb asked, relief surging through him.
Sylus’ eyes returned to Caleb’s face and his expression darkened again. “I’m bored of this conversation, Colonel, so let me speak plainly, especially now that Lydia is listening: if you wish to enact your depressing little fantasy, you will have to kill me first.”
“Is that a threat?” Caleb asked defiantly.
“A promise, actually. As long as I am alive and she allows me to stand by her side, I will never permit her to be caged,” Sylus said darkly. “If you take her away while I still breathe, I will find you and I will kill you.”
“She wouldn’t want you if you killed me,” Caleb said, but he can already tell that Sylus didn’t care about that. Still, Caleb added, “like you said, I’m the most important person in her life.”
“She would despise me, yes. She might even kill me for doing it,” Sylus agreed, his voice deadly serious, red eyes gleaming in the dim room. “But she would be free, and that is the only thing that would matter. That is the only thing that has ever mattered to me.”
The silence that fell between them was long and heavy before Sylus stepped away and released him from his Evol. “I’m stopping now, Kitten,” he said, backing off completely.
Caleb couldn’t help a final jab. “Do you have to call her such a condescending nickname all the time?”
Sylus just raised an eyebrow. “You’re right,” he said sarcastically. “Perhaps I should call her something befitting an adult woman, like ‘Pip-squeak.’ What do you think?”
Caleb could feel his ears heat up. “That’s different,” he said and Sylus just nodded once.
“One shouldn’t throw stones in glass houses,” he said flatly before leaning against the door again. “Now stop talking. I’m at the end of my patience with you already.”
With that, they truly lapsed into silence, as they awaited some sort of rescue, however that looked. Sylus was murmuring quietly into his comms unit, but obvious exhaustion showed on his face. Seeing that, Caleb didn’t question why he wasn’t using his Evol to get them out. Caleb tried to use his, but whatever was suppressing their Evol was still in effect.
“How the hell did you use your Evol?” Caleb asked after a few minutes, and Sylus glanced at him.
“Having performance issues, Colonel?” he asked snidely before flinching. Caleb could hear Lydia’s stern scolding from across the small room, and he couldn’t help his pleased smile as Sylus said shakily, “Volume, Kitten, please.”
“There is clearly an Evol suppressor nearby, and even if you’re a powerful Evolver, you would still be suppressed. I’m a powerful Evolver,” Caleb pressed, glaring at Sylus a bit longer.
“Maybe I’m actually a demon,” Sylus suggested with a shrug, his smirk even more infuriating. Sighing, Sylus said into the comms unit, “can you deal with the Evol suppressor, Sweetie? Your colonel is getting antsy.”
Something in the back of Caleb’s mind clicked into place. “You have an Aether Core, don’t you?”
Sylus snorted. “If I did, what makes you think I would tell one of EVER’s lapdogs— Sweetie, I am close to begging you to keep your voice down,” he trailed off, pinching the bridge of his nose and screwing his eyes shut.
“It’s in your head or something,” Caleb said, feeling a bit smug having figured it out. “Your headache, it’s like Dia’s heart palpitations when she overexerts herself.”
Sylus rolled his eyes and turned his face away from Caleb. “I’m starting to think there was an environmental factor to Lydia’s inability to be quiet, given you appear to have the same problem,” he grumbled, and Caleb watched as Sylus’ face softened just a bit. “What I mean, Kitten, is that the two of you clearly grew up together and learned the same habits.”
The man chuckled, and there was something terribly soft and vulnerable in his expression. Caleb had to look away, too embarrassed to watch what felt like a private moment. Somehow, it was more embarrassing seeing that small moment than it had been walking in on Sylus and Lydia earlier.
Caleb could feel when the device suppressing his Evol was shut down a few minutes later, and he immediately moved toward the door. “Let me through, I’ll move the debris out of our way,” Caleb said when Sylus arched a brow at his approach.
“Knock yourself out,” Sylus said, stepping out of Caleb’s way and gesturing.
Lydia finally reached the collapsed hallway just as Caleb broke through the last of the rubble. She immediately grabbed him and pulled him into a tight hug before she pulled away and punched him in the shoulder.
“What the hell, Caleb? What are you doing here?” she snapped as she inspected him for injuries.
“I—” he started, but his explanation faltered for a moment. “I had to be sure he wasn’t going to betray you.”
“Caleb,” she sighed before stepping away from him. Her disappointment seemed to shock Caleb, and his face fell. “If you would take your head out of your ass and listen to me once— I don’t have time for this right now.”
As she went to step around Caleb, he grabbed her wrist lightly. “Can we talk about it? Later?” he asked softly, and Lydia looked up at him. Her heart ached at the soft expression he was giving her.
“Will you listen to me?” she asked, and Caleb nodded earnestly, sliding his hand down to hold hers.
“I’ll try, Pips, okay? I’ll come to Linkon as soon as the paperwork about this mess is cleared,” he replied, and Lydia would happily take that.
“Alright, and use the key I gave you. Remember, you’re not a stray,” she said, squeezing his hand and then punching his shoulder.
Caleb laughed softly before clearing his throat. “I’ll keep any reinforcements out so you two can get out of here. I’m assuming you have a ride?”
Lydia nodded and Caleb stooped to kiss the top of her head. “Take care of yourself, Caleb,” she said.
Caleb turned away and sighed, “you, too, Pips.” Then he hurried away, turning the corner and disappearing.
Turning back to the room they had been trapped in, Lydia’s eyes landed on Sylus, who was sitting on some of the rubble. He was clearly in pain and exhausted. “Jeez, Sy, what did you do to yourself,” she fussed as she hurried over to him.
“Nothing a good night’s rest won’t fix, Kitten,” he promised before tangling a hand in her hair and pulling her into a kiss. “You’re okay…”
“I’m okay,” she confirmed, holding his other hand to her chest. “You can see for yourself.”
“I will save my thorough inspection for when we get home,” he promised, and Lydia wouldn’t argue with that at all.
You know I have to ask for 86 with Tigareth :smug:
Teehee >:3c
Tagging the other Tigareth fans: @vecnuthy @patchworkgargoyle @sidekick-hero @theheadlessphilosopher @wormdebut @steddieas-shegoes @stobinesque @starryeyedjanai @hellion-child @sentient-trash @vampeddie
It is.... pure filth so uuuuuuh
“Oh, fuck, Gare,” Tig groaned, long and low in his throat, his long fingers twisting in Gareth’s hair tightly. Shivering, Gareth let out a whine as he bobbed his head between Tig’s thighs. “Fuck, baby, gonna come.”
At that, Gareth moaned and focused his efforts on the head, playing with the ladder of frenum piercings with the tip of his tongue. The way Tig shuddered filled Gareth with a dizzying sense of pride, that he managed to make Tig feel that good, he got to have him like that. With another hungry sound, Gareth took as much of Tig’s cock into his mouth as he could, just as Tig’s fingers tightened in his hair.
As Tig spilled down his throat, Gareth reached between his own legs to rub at his dick, shivering as he swallowed. After a few moments, Tig pulled Gareth off of his cock, dragging him up for a hungry kiss. Gareth couldn’t help the startled sob as one of Tig’s tattooed thighs slid between his legs and slotted against his dick and cunt, giving him something firm and warm to rut against.
Pulling away from the kiss, Gareth threw his head back with a shivery whimper, humping Tig’s thigh with abandon as he chased his own release. He was too far gone already to care how he looked, to care what Tig thought of him in that moment, just desperately rubbing one out like some horny teenager. It didn’t take long at all, the tight coil in his gut snapping and punching a sharp cry from his throat.
“That’s it, gorgeous,” Tig cooed, his deep voice washing over Gareth and filling his head with heat. “Holy fuck, you’re so wet, baby.”
Tig’s thigh fell away, and when Gareth managed to open his eyes, he watched in awe as Tig ran his fingers through the slick on his skin before pressing them into his mouth. His eyes rolled back, as if tasting Gareth’s arousal was the most decadent treat possible.
“Need to taste more of you,” Tig sighed, opening his eyes halfway to stare hungrily up at Gareth. After a moment, Tig smirked before framing his lips with the two fingers he just cleaned, sliding his forked tongue out between them and moving the separate tips suggestively.
Blushing, dark and hot, Gareth rolled his eyes and looked away. “I can’t fucking believe you. I literally just came,” he grumbled, ignoring the way his tummy fluttered at the thought of being brought to another perfect orgasm on that tongue.
“Yep, and I’m going to eat you out until you come at least two more times,” Tig promised, dragging Gareth into another hungry, filthy kiss. It felt like the kiss went on forever, yet somehow it wasn’t long enough.
“Tig,” Gareth whined when the man pulled away, his head fuzzy and face hot with his blush.
“Alright, baby, don’t be shy, now,” Tig cooed, sliding his big hands around to grab handfuls of Gareth’s ass and pull him upward. Smirking, he added, “Sit on my face.”
And with a command that perfect, how could Gareth disobey?
feel the lives that i have taken (what little soul that i have left) [gift fic]
Explicit★OMC Ship★2250 words★Complete
Okay so this is actually a gift fic I wrote for Niko months ago for his birthday and I just??? Never posted it??? But hey, want to post it now!
Happy (not belated because I wrote it on time) Birthday Niko!
Sam: mine
Dom: @patchworkgargoyle
Tags & CW: Pirate!AU (specifically Davy Jones type nonsense), rough sex, unsafe sex, Davy Jones!Sam being heartbreaking
Sam stared at the stars shining through the clear night between the masts. They were floating in the Locker, so the stars were different than the ones Dom would have seen back home. The world around them was quiet, as quiet as the sea could be (which was nearly silent there).
Their conversation had been long, meandering and inconsequential, where they both said many things but told each other barely anything at all. It had started while they waited for Dom’s merfolk friends and their news from his former captain— ‘His true captain,’ Sam corrected himself internally— and then eventually, somehow, they found themselves sitting on the deck for the rest of their conversation.
Sam wasn’t sure when they laid down, but soon enough he was on his back, watching the stars with Dom. They were laying in such a way that their heads were next to each other, but their bodies were stretched out in opposite directions; whenever they turned their heads to face each other, it almost looked like Dom was upside-down. One time when they looked at each other, Sam couldn’t help the little laugh that left his throat, and the way Dom grinned before covering his mouth and looking back up at the stars again had the void in Sam’s chest aching.
“Fuck, it’s beautiful,” Dom sighed, gesturing at the sky with his chin.
“Yeah,” Sam agreed easily without looking away from Dom’s profile, tearing his gaze away just before the other man glanced at him again. Before he could think better of it, Sam said, “I wish I'd met you under different circumstances, Dominik.”
Next to him, the man went very still. It wasn’t like he moved a lot, especially when they were quiet like this, but there was still a very noticeable lack of movement now.
“Why?” Dom’s voice was quiet, patient in the way beautiful, deadly creatures of the sea were. One misstep in the conversation that followed would have Dom storming off to his quarters and unlikely to speak to Sam like this again for weeks.
Lifting a hand to his chest, Sam stroked the tip of his forefinger up and down the jagged, messy scar that was there, exposed to the night air with the open neckline of his shirt.
“I want to kiss you, but it feels wrong to want that since you hate being here,” he admitted, clenching his jaw as he squinted up at the stars. “It feels cruel to even admit it to you now.”
If Sam had thought Dom was still before, he now knew he was mistaken. Sam wasn’t even sure if Dom was still next to him, that the man hadn’t turned to mist and disappeared completely.
“What circumstances would you have preferred meeting me under?” Dom asked after a few long moments and Sam couldn’t tell if he wanted to sigh with relief or grimace.
“I wish I had met you a century ago, before I became this,” he admitted, too quickly to play it off like he hadn’t thought about it a thousand times. Then, a bit quieter, he added, “or after you actually died, while I was ferrying your soul through the Locker. You could’ve asked to join my crew, to be here.”
His words were met with more quiet and stillness from Dom, and Sam let out a tired, sad sigh.
“I should have declined your captain’s deal, Dominik. Ignored their summons. I have rules and I broke them,” Sam continued when Dom didn’t ask another question. “Now you’re miserable, separated from everyone you love— your partner, your captain, your family— and I have the audacity to desire you as if I haven’t taken enough from you.”
There was another beat of silence, long enough that Sam started moving to get up. In a flurry of movement that was too fast for Sam to see and almost too graceful to be fully human, Dom spun around and was on top of him, pressing his mouth desperately against Sam’s.
Sam didn’t waste a single moment to hesitation, immediately tangling a hand in the hair at the back of Dom’s head. His mouth opened under Dom’s questing tongue as his other arm wrapped around his waist. Sam wasn’t sure how long that first kiss lasted, but when they pulled apart, both of them were breathless, their mouths red and wet.
It couldn’t be helped, the pang of hopeful sadness that thrummed deep in the empty void of Sam’s chest as he stared up at the beautiful man on top of him.
Dom’s expression twisted subtly, as if he was about to say something sharp, but when he opened his mouth, he said, “I hate this less because of you. It’s… better because of you.”
Before Sam could properly process those words, Dom was kissing him again and he couldn’t help but meet the ferocity in kind.
When he felt his body begin to stir below the belt, Sam didn’t even pull away from the kiss to ask, “How far are we taking this, sweetheart?”
Dom shuddered. “Don’t have to go further than your bed, but I can take you right here if you want,” he responded, words muffled against Sam’s lips as he began to grind their hips together.
With a bright laugh, Sam began tugging at Dom’s clothes insistently. “Have to get this out of the way then,” he hummed before wrapping both hands around Dom’s hips to hold him in place while he rocked his hardening cock up against him.
Dom’s response was immediate; a sharp gasp as he sat up straight, head thrown back as he rode out the sensation of their dicks pressed together through their layers of clothing. With another soft sound, Dom’s hands reached down to start pulling at the ties of Sam’s pants, getting them open so he could get his smallclothes out of the way as well. When Dom’s hand closed around the shaft of his cock, he gasped and looked down at Sam hungrily.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Dom all but whimpered, squeezing Sam before slowly stroking him.
Smirking, Sam rumbled out a low, “Flatterer.”
Impatient now that he had Dom’s hand on him, Sam managed to rip the seams of the man’s pants and smallclothes open. With clothes out of the way, Sam returned his hands to Dom’s hips and dragged him down against him, rocking the length of his cock up and down the seam of Dom’s dripping cunt.
He wanted to see what sort of noises he could drag out of Dom just like that, but soon the teasing pleasure became too much for even Sam to bear. Tightening his grip on Dom’s hips, Sam rocked him back while he ground his cock up against his dick. Then, as he pulled Dom’s hips forward again, the head of Sam’s cock passed over the dripping opening of his cunt. Timing his next thrust while guiding Dom’s hips back again, Sam sunk inside the man’s wet cunt until he bottomed out.
“Fuck!” Dom shouted happily, rapturously even, before he slapped a hand over his mouth. His other hand was braced on Sam’s chest now, his nails digging into the skin around the scar.
Without pulling out, Sam rolled them until he was looming over Dom, giving him a few brutal thrusts before dragging the man’s hand away from his own mouth.
“Let me hear you, sweetheart,” Sam ordered in a low growl, nosing at the underside of Dom’s jaw as he got his thumbs hooked under the man’s knees and slowly folded him in half beneath him. “Let the whole Locker hear you.”
After that, everything went a bit fuzzy as he fucked Dom right there on the deck of his ship. From that point on, Dom was plenty vocal, moaning and whining under Sam, clinging to him and screaming his praises for Sam’s cock. Sam was desperate to keep him at that high, to drag Dom through as many orgasms as he could manage before letting himself come apart completely.
By Sam’s count, he managed to fuck Dom through two releases before he finally let himself go, pumping Dom’s perfect cunt full of his cum. He shivered at the way Dom sobbed out, “Jones!”
A large part of Sam wished, not for the first time, that Dom knew his actual name.
Pulling out before the aftershocks of his own release were fully over, Sam crawled down Dom’s body and pressed his tongue inside the man’s sloppy cunt, moaning at the taste of them together there. With single-minded purpose, Sam ate his own cum out of Dom, and when he was done with that, he took Dom’s pretty little dick between his lips. Sam worked him until he came with a shattered scream that was guaranteed to wake up half the crew.
A few minutes later, Sam was catching his breath, cheek resting on a shivering, pale thigh while Dom played with his hair. The position wasn’t particularly comfy on the ground, but Sam was content to stay put for as long as Dom wanted.
“Why didn’t you keep to your rules?” Dom asked after a few beats of quiet, and Sam looked up the line of Dom’s body. The man was watching him, frowning slightly despite the blissed-out expression he was still somehow wearing. “When Kez summoned you?”
Sam let out a slow breath and kissed Dom’s thigh. “It was clear how much that entire crew cared about you. I haven’t seen a crew so united around a single person outside my own, so I was intrigued. Moved, you could say, even. I wanted to know what sort of person rallied such loyalty,” he said after some thought before smirking. “Imagine my surprise when you turned out to be a massive cunt.”
There was a deeply sad twist to Dom’s expression that brought back Sam’s regret full force all over again. The guilt was even worse with the sweat of their coupling still cooling on their skin. At Sam’s jab, Dom visibly stifled his sadness under a laugh, kicking at Sam ineffectually and saying, “You asshole!”
Kissing Dom’s thigh one last time, Sam crawled back up the length of the man’s body until he could cup his cheek and meet his eyes properly. “I’m not necessarily sorry that you’re here, but I am sorry that you’re trapped. If I had the power to free you, I would. If you believe only one thing I say, please believe that.”
Dom squirmed under Sam’s intensity and nodded. “I believe you,” he said after a moment, and he looked almost like he was surprised that he meant it. Then he asked, “Would I be able to visit them at least?”
Sam considered that for a moment; it was risky letting the Dutchman be seen too often, especially near other ships. That was how inconvenient legends started to resurface. It would be safer to do it on the open sea, to locate Dom’s crew and let him off the ship for a couple days. They wouldn’t be able to leave with Dom in tow because his life was tied to the Dutchman, so there was no real worry of them running off.
But that just reaffirmed all of Sam’s guilt. Meeting on the water felt like he was just extending the boundaries of Dom’s prison without allowing him any real freedom. He wasn’t getting away from Sam, and there was always that chance that Sam might be spying or could appear out of thin air. Dom’s real crew would never relax.
The sea was Sam’s domain.
“Pick a port, pick a date, and send a letter to your crew. I’ll make sure you’re there to meet them,” Sam said, his tone firm with his decision, ignoring the way that Dom’s eyes widened. “We can test how long you can be off the ship before you start fading.”
“You can’t make port! That’s too dangerous,” Dom insisted, and Sam’s chest ached where his heart should be.
“The closest to freedom I can give you is arranging to meet your crew on land, Dominik. I cannot follow you, so you will be completely alone with them,” Sam explained softly, stroking a knuckle across Dom’s cheekbone. “You can spend as much time with them as the curse allows.”
Dom stared up at Sam, frowning at him as he thought. Eventually, though, his expression softened, and he pulled Sam into a slow, almost sweet kiss.
“Thank you, Jones,” Dom whispered against Sam’s lips, and that soft gratitude broke down what was left of Sam’s resolve.
“Sam,” he whispered between their mouths. “My name— before I was Davy Jones, my name was Sam.”
Dom pulled away and stared up at him, almost alarmed. “You give too much away, Captain.”
At that, Sam just laughed and shrugged. “I’ve told you already that I’m tired, that I’m not concerned about my secrets coming to light, even if that means I finally get my turn to be ferried across the Locker,” he said almost flippantly.
Dom frowned and shook his head a bit. “You’re a fucking idiot,” he eventually said, pulling Sam back into a slow kiss before adding, “but thank you. It’s— fuck, just, thank you, Captain.”
There was a pang in Sam’s chest again at Dom’s subtle refusal to use his actual name, but at least he didn’t use Jones. Sam wouldn’t push him on it, he decided.
Letting it go, Sam pulled Dom into another kiss and whispered, “Of course, Dominik.”
down on your two knees (to save your soul) [chapter one... kinda]
Teen (for now)★Gareth/OMC★In Progress
So this is technically a prequel to my fic here i have found some peace of mind and it's about Gareth and my OC Tig!!
Thank you @strangerthingsocweek for give me the push to actually like... finish this fucking chapter? I guess?
This is largely unedited, but like... alas!
Tagging the Scromies: @starryeyedjanai @sidekick-hero @steddieas-shegoes @stobinesque @vecnuthy @tboygareth @patchworkgargoyle @sentient-trash @puppy-steve @theheadlessphilosopher @wormdebut
And tagging the honorary Scromies: @hellion-child @spectrum-spectre
“This isn’t my decision, Eddie—”
“Oh, come off it, Chris. Even if it was, you know you’d be saying the same fucking thing—”
“Then why are you wasting our time arguing with me?”
Now that was the million-dollar question, right there. Why was Eddie arguing with her? Gareth was pretty sure Eddie just liked the sound of his own whining and Chrissy couldn’t help but rise to it every time.
“Because this is our band—”
“Enough!”
Everyone jumped at Freak’s loud outburst, silence falling over the tiny boardroom they were all piled into as they looked at him. He was massaging his forehead, a grimace clear in his expression.
Glancing at the screen of his phone, Gareth flinched as he realized they had been sitting there for forty-five minutes, and forty of those were dedicated to Eddie and Chrissy arguing in circles. Jeff had had his head on the table before Freak’s shout, and his mouth was still a tense line.
“You’re right, Eddie. This is our band, and that includes Chrissy,” Freak said pointedly, and Eddie actually had the grace to glance away, shame-faced, his mouth snapping shut. Seemingly satisfied, Freak said, “Stop being a dick and let her actually finish what she was saying.”
“Thank you, Freak,” Chrissy sighed, sitting back in her chair at the head of the table. “Now, as I was saying, the label can’t have us canceling shows if we’re headlining.”
“Gee, thanks, Chris,” Eddie bit out, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.
“It was different when we were openers,” she continued a bit shakily, shrugging a shoulder, “but we’re about to start what the label’s anticipating being a sold-out arena tour.”
Jeff’s expression went slack, and Gareth knew his own eyebrows had disappeared behind his fringe.
“Sorry, can you repeat that?” Jeff asked, tilting his better ear toward her. “Did you say sold-out?”
“Anticipated, yes,” Chrissy replied, smirking just a bit smugly about it.
Gareth scoffed incredulously. “Fuck ‘sold-out’, did you just say arena tour?” He looked around the table. “How the hell did we score an arena tour?”
“Between your explosion in popularity and the docuseries deal…” Chrissy said, trailing off as she looked at Eddie a bit sadly. “I’m sorry, Eddie. I know how much you wanted to make this the tour you were back for, but canceling two of our appearances and needing a sub on guitar at the end of Ghost’s tour has the label spooked.”
Gareth sneered at the mention of the sub they were saddled with. When he looked over at Eddie, though, his chest squeezed at the way his oldest friend was staring up at the ceiling and blinking rapidly. All the fight had left him, and Gareth could tell he was resigning himself to the decision. Jeff leaned over to wrap a hand over Eddie’s shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly.
Eddie sucked in a sharp breath. “Whoever we bring on better be good,” Eddie bit out eventually, his voice thick as he turned a flat look on Chrissy. “We’re not slowing down for them.”
At that, Chrissy actually broke into a grin and clapped her hands together. “Well, you’re in luck because I’ve already brought someone on and he’s ridiculously talented,” she said in a rush, and they all just blinked at her. There was a sinking feeling in Gareth’s gut about the whole thing.
“He should actually be here soon to talk to you— oh, that might be him,” Chrissy continued, hopping up when there was a quiet knock at the door. When she opened it, she smiled politely and said, “Yeah, just send him back.”
Turning back to them, Jeff gestured for her to elaborate. “Are you going to tell us who it is?”
Chrissy frowned and put her hands on her hips. “Oh, c’mon guys, don’t act like you don’t know who it is,” she deadpanned, rolling her eyes dramatically.
Gareth immediately thought of the smug behemoth that subbed for Eddie’s guitar parts and grimaced, crossing his arms over his chest petulantly. At the same time, however, the rest of the band’s faces lit up excitedly, even Eddie’s. Of fucking course Eddie would be fine with being coddled, babied— nay, treated like a fucking invalid if it meant some hot, overrated giant was going to be around more often.
There was another knock on the door and Chrissy immediately opened it with a grin. “Morgan! Welcome back,” she said brightly, and the name threw Gareth off just enough that his shoulders relaxed and dropped down from around his ears.
He didn’t know a Morgan, he didn’t think, but that was fine! At least it wasn’t—
“Ugh, that’s the name the lawyers use for me,” came an impossibly deep, slightly accented voice as Chrissy stepped back, staring up at the man coming into the boardroom with nothing short of awe.
Sure e-fucking-nough, in walked the very giant Gareth had hoped wouldn’t be returning. The asshole actually ducked his head under the door frame is if it was too fucking low for him to clear it.
“Please, just call me Tig,” the man said before looking around the room with a giant grin, his blue eyes pausing on Gareth just long enough to wink at him.
It had been months since the band saw Tig last, and Gareth hated that he looked good. His hair was a vibrant pink at that moment (very much not the blue it was when he was touring with them) and with complete and utter dismay, Gareth realized he had a new fucking tattoo on his throat. It was almost a blackout tattoo, but on the front of his throat it looked like a honeycomb. The pattern faded into proper blackout where it wrapped around the column of his neck and up to the line of his jaw. It was distracting, and Gareth just wanted to chew that shit off.
Tig had been brought in as quickly as possible at the end of Corroded Coffin’s tour with Ghost when Eddie’s nerve pain flared up to the point that he could barely perform, let alone play his guitar. Despite being unable to play and upset about that, Eddie and Tig immediately hit it off. They had been nearly inseparable, between Tig’s (admittedly genius level) skill on guitar and Eddie’s passion for finding the ugliest, grossest, and scariest bugs imaginable. What was worse was that Tig had the ugliest, grossest, and scariest bugs imaginable tattooed all over his body.
Even Freak had taken a shine to him, actually finding his fucking childish antics hilarious. Jeff barely even hesitated about returning Tig’s over-the-top flirtations, too.
Gareth couldn’t fucking stand him.
Across the table, Freak was looking at him with an eyebrow raised and a little, smug smirk. Gareth flipped him off before crossing his arms and slouching back in his chair.
The first problem he had with Tig was that the man was so goddamn tall. It honestly hurt Gareth’s neck to meet his eyes most of the time, and then the dick went and wore fucking platform boots as if he needed three more inches. Whenever he did that, Gareth was practically eye-level with Tig’s goddamn bellybutton (and the man’s stupid fucking piercing there) which filled him with something that could only be rage with how hot he felt all over. Hot like flames were engulfing him, flames of anger and shit.
The second problem was that Gareth was, apparently, Tig’s fucking fan.
See, Tig used to be part of a masked, anonymous band named Rake as the lead guitarist and unclean vocalist. Their whole get-up, especially in the last era of their career as a band, were full suits and bird-themed masks, leaving only enough skin visible for the guitarists to play and the vocalists to sing. Rake was up there in popularity, even for a metal band, somehow making it big while maintaining their anonymity. That was until, of course, a fateful music festival in Nevada during a record-breaking heatwave.
Gareth was a huge fan of Rake— they were literally his favourite band, so when he found out Corroded Coffin was going to be playing at the same festival as Rake and they were scheduled perfectly so he was going to be able to see Rake perform? He was ecstatic and he weaponized his elbows to get to the barrier.
Their entire aesthetic looked fucking rad but watching them perform in triple-digit weather really put it all into perspective.
Mid-set, it was obvious that the lead guitarist was suffering. Somehow, Tig was still hitting all the correct chords and nailing every single one of his lines, but between songs he was guzzling water, pouring it on himself, turning his back to the crowd to lift his mask up off his face even. He had already shed as many layers of his costume as he could just short of showing off skin. The other members were also having a rough time, but none of them seemed nearly as bad as Tig.
(Since meeting him, Gareth had come to learn that Tig is just annoying and dramatic, especially in any amount of weather hotter than 90 degrees.)
Eventually, Tig swayed unsteadily enough that the other vocalist had to grab his arm to keep him from eating shit. There was a moment where they were clearly arguing, though it was hard to tell with the beaks of the masks being in the way. Eventually, Tig began to roll up his sleeves, exposing very distinctly tattooed forearms that had more than a few audience members shouting in excitement.
The thing was, Gareth recognized the tattoos, but where he recognized them from was escaping him. The tattoo that stood out to him in that moment was the Lichtenberg figure that started on his thumb and crawled up his arm, branching out into a perfect mess of lines and angles. It had been almost thrilling to have that moment of knowing, that split-second where he knew who was under that mask even if he couldn’t actually immediately recall who it was.
But then there were gasps in the crowd, and people began shouting something that Gareth couldn’t quite hear properly, and Tig’s shoulders drooped a bit. Looking around himself, Gareth took in the sea of people around him and noticed that a few of them had their phones out. The girl next to him at the barrier was on Twitter, frantically scrolling through the people she followed.
Upon realizing that his favourite guitarist (after Jeff and Eddie, of course) was apparently Twitter famous, Gareth was pissed. It just felt ridiculous that a metal guitarist would be famous on the fucking bird app without their music as the reason. It felt like they sold out, like some influencer was behind the music.
Then Tig stepped up to the microphone and— in an impossibly deep and slightly accented voice that Gareth absolutely fucking knew in a way that had him blushing in the middle of a crowd of metalheads— he said, “well, I guess the cat’s outta the bag now.”
See, Gareth knew on some level that the members of Rake were probably recognizable in some way other than their looks off the stage because none of them ever spoke. They would go on stage, perform their set, and leave. It wasn’t that weird, given their entire gimmick with the masks, so Gareth really didn’t think too much about it. Now that Gareth heard that voice and recognized it immediately as one that frequently featured in his horniest daydreams, the gimmick made a whole lot more sense.
The thing was that Gareth knew that voice and those tattooed arms— and, yep, the man was unbuttoning his shirt to reveal the massive and distinctive tattoo of a cicada across his chest— and they belonged to the one OnlyFans creator he was fucking subscribed to.
“Let’s get back to the show, then,” Tig growled into the mic, and the music immediately picked back up as if a quarter of the crowd didn’t just get their shit rocked.
Later that night when he was back at his hotel, Gareth pulled up Twitter and sure enough, there was a new post from xX-Tamer Tig-Xx. It was a selfie of Tig standing in front of a mirror, completely naked while he held his iconic plague doctor mask over his cock. Black body paint was still on his hands, throat, and around his mouth, as if he just stripped and took the selfie after the concert. It was posted with a caption that read, “So, big news incoming 😳 IYKYK 😏”
The ensuing chaos the news threw part of the metal scene into was nothing short of fucking batshit insane. Gareth and Eddie were eating it all up as they watched YouTube reactors express their opinions on the matter. They watched the way Rake blew up on TikTok now that it was known that at least one of the band members was already a well-known “accountant” on the app. After about a week, the rest of the band unmasked too, and it turned out all of them were sex workers by trade.
It was shortly after that when Rake announced that they would be permanently disbanding now that they were unmasked, which was devastating for Gareth. He mostly understood, of course, because the anonymity was ultimately important to them, so their sex work and music was wholly separated. Plus, Rake was very vocal as an entity on their socials that they were always intending to complete a trilogy of albums and they achieved that. It just felt wrong, as if their hands were forced to announce it early, or they were robbed of their chance to just quietly disappear forever without revealing anything.
After a couple months, Rake sat down for a full profile piece for an article about them unmasking, their feelings about it and the end of their careers as Rake. All five of them seemed happy with the way the band was ending things, that they could finally be more open about their friendships with each other, even outside of their working relationships. Hell, the drummer and the lead vocalist were fucking married. Like, real-life married, and they had to hide that on stage. In the interview, they said they were most excited to be able to actually interact with their opening bands, and something in that made Gareth realize how much that anonymity probably felt very isolating. Thinking about how much Corroded Coffin got to learn from the bands they were opening with and for, he couldn’t imagine that lack of collaboration.
The article itself had images of all the members unmasked and in various states of undress. Tig’s photo was the most provocative, with him standing in profile and completely naked except for his platform boots, one leg bent just enough to keep his modesty. His arms were held up, hands tangled in his own hair, but he was looking directly at the camera over the muscled curve of his biceps.
Despite being subscribed to his OnlyFans, Gareth still saved that image to his phone and told himself that was completely normal behaviour. He had lots of photos and videos of Tig naked on his phone. It wasn’t weird.
Plus, he foolishly thought, it wasn’t like he was ever going to fucking meet the man, especially since Rake was breaking up and none of them had immediate plans to return to the stage, even as a solo act.
Gareth jumped as someone knocked on the table to get his attention, and he glared at the heavily tattooed hand that was there. Turning his sneer up at Tig’s face, he felt something squirm in his gut as the man just smirked knowingly.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Tig crooned as he sat down, leaning close to Gareth to ask in a conspiratorial stage-whisper, “miss me?”
“Like a fucking toothache, Slenderman,” Gareth spat, and Tig only grinned broadly at him, showing off all of his perfectly white teeth. They weren’t perfectly straight, but they were so fucking white, it was ridiculous. Unfair. Disgusting even.
“I missed you, too, sweetheart,” Tig sighed before turning his attention to Chrissy as she stood back up to start going over the details of him temporarily joining Corroded Coffin.
This was going to be the worst, Gareth thought— nay, he knew.
Hey remember that really sad fic I wrote a while back with two OCs? Well those characters are back and you get to see some of their epic lovestory for the birthday of my beeloved Bee @tboygareth!
Happy Birthday Bee!!!!
Sam: mine
Dom: @patchworkgargoyle
CW: Rough sex, idiots in love (they're so frustrating)
Sam sat on the patio of a small cafe, across from a post office where he’d tracked the PO box he’d been sending letters to for two years. He had landed the day before, got himself a hotel room, and had a fitful night of sleep. The plan was to wait until his mark arrived, and then engage. That was it, and yet Sam’s stomach was in complete knots about it.
It was risky, going to Cuba and finding Dom. D’Amore would have his head if he found out, that was for sure. Worse, Dom might side with his father on that. The fact that Dom even went along with this forced exile meant that he agreed on some level that Vincenzo D’Amore had a good enough reason to send him here.
Vincenzo Junior had other opinions on the matter, and Sam always liked following Vinny’s gut feelings more than his own.
He was about to flag down a server to order another coffee when finally, Sam saw his mark.
The man hadn’t changed at all, and yet Sam almost didn’t recognize him. Dom’s dark hair was longer, falling to his shoulders in curls that Sam wanted so desperately to tangle his fingers in. He was still pale, too, despite the sunny locale, and Sam couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled up in his chest as Dom slipped into the post office.
With an excited grin, Sam stood up and tossed a pile of bills on the table and crossed the street, following Dom inside.
By the time Sam crossed the threshold, Dom was already standing at the wall of mailboxes, his lockbox still open while he rifled through the mail he’d received. Sam watched him for a moment, taking a silent, fortifying breath when Dom’s shoulders seemed to slump.
Reaching into the breast pocket of his own coat, Sam pulled a letter out and leaned close to Dom. “Excuse me, sir, I think the mailman dropped this,” he said, tone teasing and yet far more earnest than he would have liked.
Dom’s reaction was quick, and the world spun until Sam was slammed back against the wall of lockboxes. His free hand barely caught Dom’s other hand before the man could sink one of his favourite knives into Sam’s gut.
“Watch where you put that thing, Kitten,” Sam purred, smirking down at Dom as understanding and disbelief dawned on his expression. “Unless I’ve been reading your letters completely wrong, I don’t think you want me bleeding out all over the floor, yeah?”
Dom backed away quickly, almost as if he had been burned, looking Sam over as he tucked his knife away somewhere hidden. “How the fuck are you here?” he asked, and Sam was pretty sure Dom intended the question to sound sharp, cutting, but it missed the mark a bit.
Sam smirked, stepping closer to Dom. “Well, you see, Dom, we have these amazing contraptions called airplanes, right?” he said slowly, his mouth splitting his face with a proper grin as he towered over Dom, who was trying very hard not to smile and failing. “You get on them? And they fly you across oceans and shit? Surely, you’ve heard of them?”
“You asshole. Fuck off,” Dom bit out, the corners of his mouth ticking upward.
“I would rather fuck you, if given the choice,” Sam teased, and Dom’s eyes looked him over again.
This time, his gaze was hungry, especially with the way it lingered on Sam’s shaggy hair and beard. Stepping into Sam’s space, Dom grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down, just enough to growl in his face, “Come with me.”
Without further ado, Dom let go of Sam and spun on his heel, leaving the post office with a huff. Meeting the curious looks of the post office workers behind the counter, Sam winked and hurried after Dom, following him to a house that looked far too large for just one person to live in alone. Something sad and lonely twinged in Sam’s chest, a painful moment of empathy that had him wanting to hold Dom. The man would never allow it, so Sam would do the next best thing.
They barely cleared the threshold before Sam was slamming the door shut and crowding Dom against it. In a moment of blind, desperate desire, Sam dipped his head as if to kiss Dom, and the other man seemed to tip his mouth upward to accept it. But Sam caught himself, stopped short and rested his forehead against Dom’s, letting their breath mingle in the small, nearly nonexistent space between their mouths. Sam glanced down at Dom’s lips before meeting his eyes. Or he tried to meet Dom’s eyes, but the other man was also looking at his lips.
The fragile moment shattered as Dom sucked in a sharp breath and shoved Sam to his knees. “Put that mouth to proper use.”
Smirking, Sam reached up and literally ripped Dom’s pants open, letting them fall in a tattered heap around his ankles. “As you wish, Kitten,” he said, leaning in as Dom kicked one of his feet free to sling a leg over Sam’s shoulder, sealing his mouth around Dom’s perfect little dick.
From there, it was all heat and desperation, Sam wetly sucking Dom’s dick and licking into his cunt while Dom’s fingers twisted painfully in Sam’s hair. Above him, Sam could hear the thump of Dom’s head against the door as he let it fall back—high, shattered moans exploding from his throat.
Sam lost track of how much time he spent on his knees, as was often the case when he got to have Dom at his mercy like that. He couldn’t even be sure just how many times Dom came before he was being pushed away, Dom gasping a broken little, “Samuele, fuck, need your cock.”
“As you wish, Kitten,” Sam replied thickly, surging to his feet and picking Dom up.
They didn’t make it far, with Dom clinging to him and biting at Sam’s throat. As he stumbled past the living room, Sam turned abruptly and bent Dom over the back of the couch, one hand holding him down while he got his own belt and fly open with the other. When his cock was finally free, Sam wasted no time in lining up and shoving his cock into Dom’s cunt, bottoming out with a slick slap.
At Dom’s sharp hiss, Sam waited, trying to let Dom adjust to the intrusion, but it was certainly a test of patience. “Fuck, Kitten, you’re so fucking tight,” he gasped, hips twitching. He didn’t remember the fit being this snug before.
“Haven’t been fucked lately,” Dom admitted shakily, his nails digging into the leather seat of the couch. Sam tried not to think too much into that statement— it’s not like Dom was waiting for Sam, or that Dom was too hung up on Sam’s cock to have flings in Cuba— but there was still a part of him that was thrilled that he had no “competition” for Dom’s pleasure.
“Well,” Sam started, grabbing Dom’s hips tightly and slowly pulling out. “I’m gonna fix that for the next two weeks.”
The pace Sam set was punishing, brutal and relentless, chasing his own release at that point. He was close, desperate to spill his load inside Dom, hungry to watch his spend drip out of his cunt and down his thighs. Beneath him, Dom was noisy with almost shrill, punched out sounds as he just took what Sam gave him.
Leaning over Dom, Sam propped himself up with his hands on the seat of the couch and pressed several biting kisses to the back of Dom’s shoulder. When Dom threw his head back, Sam shifted his weight so he could gently wrap a hand around the base of Dom’s slender throat, making him arch his back dramatically. Grinding his cock into Dom’s cunt, Sam leaned as close to his face as possible and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.
At the soft caress, even as Sam ruthlessly ground his cock down into his g-spot, Dom turned his face toward Sam. With each roll of Sam’s hips, their lips would brush against each other. Not a kiss, but so fucking close it had desperate tears springing to Sam’s eyes.
Blinking the tears away and hoping Dom didn’t notice them, Sam moaned, “Dominik.”
“Samuele,” Dom whined back, his eyes half-lidded and hazy as he tried to meet Sam’s thrusts before he tensed up and clenched almost painfully hard around Sam’s cock.
Dom’s orgasm was intense, the wet heat of him becoming impossibly tight while a hot gush of water spilled around Sam’s cock, down both of their legs, and onto the floor. It wasn’t long after that Sam followed him noisily over the edge, pumping his seed deep into Dom’s cunt as he held their hips flush together.
“Christ, almost fucking forgot how fucking good of a lay you are,” Dom said hoarsely as he shuddered through the aftershocks of his release.
Sam just chuckled and pulled out, dropping to his knees behind Dom to pull his cunt open with his thumbs. “I’m not even close to being done with you today, sweetheart,” he said before licking a firm strip up the messy seam of Dom’s cunt, from dick to taint.
The sun had set by the time they found themselves on the bed, sweat cooling on their skin as they caught their breath. Sam was stretched out on his back, eyes closed with one arm tucked up under his head while the other was wrapped around Dom’s lithe body. The other man was pressed up against Sam’s side, his chin resting on his hand on Sam’s chest. Sam didn’t have to open his eyes to know that Dom was staring, and if the grump was staring he was probably overthinking something.
“Can smell those gears in your head overheating with all that thinkin’,” Sam grumbled, laughing and squirming away when Dom harrumphed and bit one of his nipples.
After they settled again, Dom asked, “Seriously, Sam, how are you here?”
Grunting, Sam shrugged before squawking when Dom bit him again. With a sigh, he kept his eyes closed as he said, “Vinny.”
Dom frowned. “Vinny?”
“Your old man went to Italy for a funeral,” Sam elaborated, shrugging. “So Vinny sent me here.”
There were several beats of silence, and Sam could feel Dom’s gaze on him. It went on long enough that Sam was about to open his eyes to finally look at the man in his arms, but then he felt Dom’s lips against his chest. It wasn’t quite a kiss either, but it was close enough to make that part of Sam that was in love with Dom ache.
“I’m glad you came,” Dom mumbled against his skin, and Sam finally opened his eyes to look down at him.
“Yeah?” he asked, smiling lightly.
“Yeah,” Dom hummed before rolling his eyes with a huff. “It was getting boring here.”
At that, Sam laughed. “Happy to be of service, sweetheart,” he said, and Dom smirked.
“Mm, like the sound of that. Service…” he purred, reaching down and wrapping his hand around Sam’s soft cock, squeezing until Sam hissed. “How quick do you think you can get this back up?”
With a sighing groan, his cock twitching already in Dom’s grip, Sam rolled them so that he was on top of Dom, his hips slotting between pale thighs. “As quick as you want it, sweetheart.”
Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington & Max "Maxine" Mayfield
Rating: Explicit
Wordcount: 5,500
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Single Parent Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington is Max's dad in this, Steve Harrington is a Christmas Lover, Falling In Love, Love Confessions, Frottage, Dom/sub undertones
Summary: Eddie hates Christmas. Steve, and his daughter, loves it. Eddie decides to grin and bear it.
This fic is a part of the @steddieholidayexchange
[ READ ON AO3 ]
All great things come with a certain amount of sacrifice, Eddie told himself that everyday.
So when the hot school teacher that frequented the bar Eddie worked asked him out, he knew there had to be some sort of catch.
He knew Steve was a single dad well before he asked Eddie out and he’d decided that was just fine by him. Eddie loved kids, was great with them even, plus Steve already told him he had a rule about not introducing new partners to his kid too soon. The kid was absolutely not a sacrifice, in Eddie’s mind.
He also knew that Steve was what one might call a jock, athletically inclined and holy shit, did he look like it. Eddie’s high school self was wailing and screaming about him falling for the enemy, but the first tumble between the sheets proved that the athleticism only did good things for things like stamina, strength, power. So once again, not a sacrifice.
Steve was hilarious, dedicated, hot as hell, and the perfect father. He was accommodating and kind, while also the bitchiest, most savage gossip in the entire world. He was also the best goddamn lay Eddie had ever had, what with the way he took control and helped still Eddie’s racing thoughts, sent his mind straight into the stratosphere where he couldn’t think about anything other than the pleasure he was feeling at Steve’s focused hands.
No, they made it three whole months into their relationship before the moment of truth came.
It was actually two months into the relationship when the first hint came up, if Eddie had been paying any attention at all.
“I’m not much of a Halloween person,” Steve had said when Eddie asked why the decorations on his front lawn were so lame. “Neither is Max, so we don’t really go all out.”
That was insane to Eddie, absolute serial killer vibes. There were several seconds where he was actually contemplating if they would work out.
“Maybe you just haven’t had the right person to show you how awesome Halloween is,” Eddie had teased as he crowded Steve against the kitchen counter.
“Maybe,” Steve had replied with a lazy smirk, glancing at Eddie’s mouth. “Definitely happy to let you try to change my mind.”
And damn, did Steve let him try. That beautiful man went to every goddamn haunt and ghost walk that Eddie dragged him to, and he even smiled through most of it. Steve even found something nice to say about everything they did, even the things that Eddie caught him giving bitchy eyerolls at.
By mid-October, Steve had decided it was time that Eddie met his daughter Max, and their first bonding experience was hitting up the Spirit Halloween and getting her a sick costume and then getting half a dozen pumpkins to carve together. They spent the whole afternoon gutting and carving them while Steve cleaned and roasted the seeds and made other treats and dinner for all three of them.
It had been a perfect day, one that ended with Eddie spending the night at Steve’s house, in his bed, and eating breakfast with both Steve and Max. It was one of those times that Eddie realized he was falling in love and falling fast. That morning, Max had asked Eddie if he would take her and her friends trick-or-treating and Eddie thought his chest might explode it felt so full of affection for the twelve-year old.
The moment of truth came sometime around the beginning of November when Steve came to the bar and bopped his head to the Christmas music that was already playing.
“Annoying, right?” Eddie groused, and Steve raised an eyebrow with one of his patient smiles.
“What is?”
“The music. Halloween just ended and we’re already being subjected to the sickening upbeat nonsense for a capitalist holiday?” Eddie had explained grumpily while he shined a glass. When he’d looked up at Steve, he barely caught the weird expression that was quickly wiped from his face.
“You don’t like Christmas?” Steve had asked, and he was smiling but there was something off about it.
“No,” Eddie said honestly and flatly, and Steve did that little laugh he did only when he was trying to not say something. “Do you?”
“Yeah, but like, a normal amount,” Steve said and then he quickly changed the subject.
After that, Steve seemed reluctant to invite him over until Thanksgiving and Eddie pushed about it. When he finally did, he got all the answers he needed.
Steve’s house was… well, lets just say what it lacked for Halloween decor, it definitely made up for with Christmas stuff. There was a big inflatable Santa and reindeer in the front lawn, and honestly the Christmas lights were so well done they looked professional. Like, straight out of those Christmas commercials.
When Eddie stepped into the house, he quickly realized that Steve was likely a lot more into Christmas than “a normal amount” like he claimed. Every surface had some sort of decor, and there was a stand in the front room for a real tree. Staring at that stand, Eddie kind of hoped he was invited along to go shopping for a tree, which was stupid because he hated Christmas.
“Sorry for all the, y’know,” Steve had said as he scrubbed the back of his neck, gesturing around. “This is our thing, me and Max’s I mean.”
“Stevie, babe, you don’t have to apologize. Like at all. Or pretend to be chill. You literally let me be my craziest about Halloween without complaint,” Eddie had said, insistent and desperate for Steve to understand that had he known, he’d have kept his mouth shut about Christmas entirely.
“Yeah, but I don’t hate Halloween, Eds,” Steve had said with the saddest little smile and Eddie had to stop that immediately.
“Listen, Steve, I don’t have many good memories around Christmas because I grew up poor and most of my extended family hated me, so I just— I never saw the point of it,” Eddie said quickly, grabbing Steve’s hands tightly in his own. “I am more than happy to let you try and change my mind. I want to be part of every single stupid Christmas thing you do if you’ll have me and I’ll even play nice about the dumb stuff, just like you did with me. I promise.”
Steve just smirked at him, an expression Eddie had seen only in the context of either playing one of his sports when he was sure he was going to win and in bed when Eddie challenged him to a seemingly impossible task.
“I look forward to teaching you the magic of Christmas, then,” Steve said simply, and kissed him so sweetly that Eddie’s knees nearly buckled beneath him. Then, when he pulled away, he smirked and pointed upward. “Mistletoe.”
When Steve walked away toward the kitchen and Eddie looked up at the mistletoe hanging above him, he knew he was in trouble if the butterflies in his gut were anything to go by.
The thing was, Eddie loved all the “stupid” Christmas shit Steve dragged him to, and it was a lot less like being “dragged” to them. Sure enough, that Thanksgiving weekend, Steve invited Eddie to go shopping for their tree, and Max had been loud in her demand that he say yes. If he hadn’t already been trying to figure out how to ask to go along, that would have convinced him to give up the Grinch schtick. His heart growing three times its size and that shit. Whatever.
Choosing the tree had taken a whole afternoon at the nursery, Max being exceedingly picky and Eddie just feeding into that to make the whole thing last longer. Eventually Steve reached his limit with the two of them and declared that they had to choose one out of the two contenders they were debating between.
“Eddie should choose!” Max declared, crossing her arms over her chest as she rounded on Eddie. “It’s the rules.”
“What rules, red?” he asked, bewildered and a little touched.
“It’s your first Christmas with us,” she said with a roll of her eyes, like it was the most obvious answer. “New friends choose our tree.”
“Yeah, Max, but that’s only if they’re into Christmas,” Steve said, shooting Eddie an apologetic smile.
“What kind of asshole doesn’t like Christmas?” Max asked and Steve’s mouth dropped open as Eddie winced a bit.
“Maxine!” Steve said sternly, putting his hands on his hips and sending Eddie an almost frantic look.
“Steve, it’s fine. More than fine. I would be honoured to choose your tree,” Eddie said, grinning as he stepped close to kiss Steve’s cheek.
“Our tree,” Max said firmly, and Eddie nodded.
“Of course, I meant ‘your tree’ as in the Harrington tree, not just your dad’s tree, little red,” Eddie had reassured her quickly and she just rolled her eyes.
“No, stupid, I mean our tree. It’s your tree, too,” she explained, frowning when Eddie’s mouth dropped open. Then she huffed and glanced away. “Hurry up and choose. I’m getting cold and Lucas wanted to play some dumb video game today.”
So, Eddie chose the Harrington tree and he even was part of bringing it back to their house, setting it up in the stand and decorating it. They spent hours on the whole affair, and that evening after Max had been in bed for an hour, he found himself laying on the floor of the front room staring up at Steve. He was illuminated by the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree, his eyes shining so brightly in the dim room. They had been making out on the floor lazily, their mulled wine cooling in the mugs sitting on a table nearby.
“Thank you for humouring her,” Steve murmured, tucking some of Eddie’s curls behind his ear. “At the nursery. You could’ve said no and I would’ve made her understand.”
“Wasn’t humouring her, Stevie. I mean it,” Eddie insisted, reaching up and cupping Steve’s jaw. “I’m… I’m all in with you, okay? I want to— I helped with the tree because I wanted to, not because she made me.”
Steve’s grin had been blinding and they barely made it to the bedroom before clothes began to be tugged off of each other.
Thus began the trips to winter markets every single weekend, sometimes multiple markets, where Steve and Max would purchase even more kitschy Christmas decor and mulling spice mixes and various fancy pastries and such. It was a lot of Christmas music (which was still disgustingly overplayed) but it was also a lot of seeing Steve and Max smiling so big their faces had to hurt from it.
So, yeah, the sacrifice in this great thing with Steve was that Eddie had to pretend to like Christmas.
The only thing was, he wasn’t pretending, not with Steve. Not with the way Steve and Max did Christmas, the way they involved all of their loved ones and made sure everyone got something out of the holiday from them. It was a shocking revelation when Eddie realized he wanted to spend Christmas with the Harringtons for the rest of his life, that Christmas had the opportunity to usurp Halloween’s place in his heart if Steve kept this up.
When the Hawkins Winter Carnival rolled around, Eddie was ready for the inevitable invite that would come from Steve. It was the thing to do that time of year, and if Eddie was being honest, he had never gone. Well, he went when he was really young, but it didn’t count because he couldn’t remember it.
But the invite just wasn’t coming, and the carnival weekend was quickly approaching. It would be easy enough to secure the day off of work, but it was always better to have as much notice as possible.
“So, were you gonna be going to the Hawkins Winter Carnival?” Eddie asked one day as he sat at the island in Steve’s kitchen, and Steve’s ears went dark red.
“Uhm, yes, I was going,” he admitted sheepishly, and when he looked up, he balked at whatever expression was on Eddie’s face. “I’m just— I’ve been saddled with chaperoning all of Max’s friends and I didn’t want you to have an extra miserable time.”
Eddie blinked at Steve, confused at his logic there. “Why would I be miserable spending the day with two of my favourite people in the whole world?” he asked, grinning at the affectionate eyeroll and blush that got out of Steve.
“Okay, but it’s not just going to be the three of us. It would be us plus a whole gaggle of other twelve-year olds and I wouldn’t wish that fate on my worst enemy,” Steve replied, stirring the sauce he had simmering on the stove.
“Uh-huh, but that’s still not you asking me what I wanna do,” Eddie pointed out, raising an eyebrow when Steve opened his mouth to argue. When Steve snapped it shut again, Eddie puffed his chest up smugly. “That’s what I thought.”
“Fine. Eddie, would you like to join me and a gaggle of sixth-graders to the carnival?” Steve asked with another roll of his eyes, but he was grinning when he looked up at Eddie through his lashes.
“I would love to!” Eddie replied brightly, already texting his boss at the bar to get the day off.
The day of the carnival was bright and sunny, the snow on the ground blinding. The sun beaming through the windows of Eddie’s apartment was warm, so he just put on his jeans, an insulated pair of boots, and one of his heavier coats. He didn’t want to get too hot walking around, he decided, and the thought of keeping track of gloves and a hat was daunting on its own.
When Steve arrived to pick him up, he only had Max in the back seat, and she was practically vibrating with excitement. Not that she would voice it out loud, of course, but Eddie knew she was happy he was tagging along.
“You look good,” Steve sighed, leaning across the center console to press a soft, chaste kiss to Eddie’s lips, filling his stomach with a swarm of butterflies.
“You, too,” Eddie replied, chasing Steve’s lips for another quick kiss before sitting properly and buckling up. They could usually get away with two chaste smooches before Max started gagging noisily in the back seat.
“So, where are the gaggle of children I was warned about?” Eddie asked after Steve started driving, turning in his seat so he could see Max, too.
“We’re meeting them there,” Max replied, staring out her window.
“So their parents can get them all there, but can’t stick around?” Eddie asked and Steve laughed.
“Yep,” he said, and Max huffed.
“You offer to take us every single year, Dad,” she said flatly, for which Steve apparently had no argument.
Once they arrived at the carnival, it only took a few minutes before an entire gaggle of tweens surrounded them, all of them speaking at volumes that had to be against some kind of international law or convention or something. Eddie just stood off to the side, hands shoved deep in his coat pockets as he watched Steve take charge (kind of) and coral the little demons.
“Who’re you?”
Eddie jumped, startled by a voice right in front of him. Looking down, he realized that all of the kids were now staring at him, and he had no idea which one just spoke.
“Uh… Hi, I’m Eddie,” he replied, taking a hand out of his pocket to wave at the kids with just his fingers. Immediately, he put his hand back into his pocket as he realized the air was a bit colder than he had been prepared for.
“You’re Steve’s boyfriend?” the tallest kid asked with complete and utter disbelief in his voice.
“Gee, Wheeler, thanks?” Steve snorted, rolling his eyes skyward.
“He just seems way out of your league—” Mike started to reply before he was cut-off by a sharp elbow to the sternum from Max. “Hey!”
“Alright, children, let’s keep it civil please. We’ve got three hours to kill here, we don’t need to start it off with a fight,” Steve interjected, bodily stepping between Mike and Max. “Where do we want to head first?”
It was at that point that all the kids started talking at once, stumbling over each other. From what Eddie could gather, the kids wanted to split from the adults and do their own thing. There was a lot of back-and-forth, but eventually, they reached an agreement with Steve.
Firstly, they were to stay within the grounds of the carnival. Secondly, he would be calling one of their cell phones every thirty minutes to check on them and if they didn’t answer they immediately lost their adult-free privileges. Thirdly, they were expected to meet Steve and Eddie at the gates of the carnival at five without Steve having to round them up himself.
“You don’t want a chaperon, you have to act like you don’t need one,” Steve had said when they protested.
And that was how Eddie ended up walking around the winter carnival with Steve, just the two of them.
The carnival was a decent size, with several booths of local artisans and artists selling their holiday themed wares, a midway with food trucks galore, a Ferris wheel and merry-go-round, and carnival games. There was plenty to keep them busy for three hours.
However, Eddie quickly discovered that just because the sun felt warm through the window at home, that did not mean it was going to keep him from getting cold after more than thirty minutes outside. Within an hour and a bit, Eddie’s nose, ears, and fingers were chilly, even with his hair down and his hands kept deep in his coat pockets.
But in the end, Eddie found it easy to ignore his discomfort because Steve was smiling so huge and so bright. Eddie would suffer literally anything, even torture, just to see Steve’s grin, whether it was directed at him or not.
Somehow, though, that happy expression was for Eddie, so he would be brave and not complain about the chill. They only had a little more than an hour to go, and at some point, Eddie could buy a hot drink to wrap his cold fingers around. He was fine, perfect even.
As it came up on four, and Eddie was clutching the biggest polar bear stuffie he’d ever seen (Steve won it for him at the game with the basketball hoops), Steve sighed and wrapped an arm around Eddie’s waist. Cuddling into Steve’s warmth, Eddie tilted his head onto Steve’s shoulder as they walked.
“How about we grab some mulled wine?” Steve suggested, turning his head to kiss the top of Eddie’s head and filling his tummy with a furious swarm of butterflies.
“Sounds perfect, big boy,” he replied with a grin, letting Steve lead him to the truck serving the mulled wine. There was a bit of a line, so Steve nodded toward one of the nearby fire pits.
“Grab us a seat?” Steve suggested, and Eddie nodded quickly, more than happy to sit in front of a fire after freezing his dick off for the better part of two hours. When Eddie went to pull away, Steve stopped him. “Goodbye kiss?”
“You’re a sap,” Eddie teased, even as he leaned in and kissed Steve’s smiling lips chastely. “I’m just going, like, ten feet away.”
“You love it,” Steve said as Eddie pulled away, and he was correct. “Your nose is cold,” he added with a grin, and Eddie laughed.
“Yours isn’t much better,” he teased before pulling away and hurrying over to the fire pit, immediately laying his polar bear across the bench to save their seats and holding his hands in the warmth of the fire. It almost hurt, but it also felt really good.
It was only a few minutes before Steve stepped up beside Eddie, leaning close as he offered him one of the little disposable cups. Without hesitation, Eddie stooped to kiss his boyfriend sweetly, grinning when Steve sighed.
“Missed you,” Steve said as he pulled away and beamed at Eddie.
“You were just over there for, like, fifteen minutes,” Eddie replied, his cheeks hot with his blush as butterflies swarmed inside his stomach.
Steve just gave Eddie his most handsome and crooked little grin. “Tell me about it,” he hummed, leaning back in for a quick smooch before holding up Eddie’s mulled wine. “Here’s yours.”
When Eddie finally went to take his cup, their fingers brushed briefly and Eddie made a soft noise at how hot Steve’s fingers felt against his. The other man must have taken his own gloves off while purchasing their drinks.
“What the hell?” Steve asked as his hand flinched away, his expression a bit horrified when his gaze met Eddie’s. “Eds, why are your fingers so cold? How long have they been like this?”
Eddie could feel his cheeks heat with the intensity of his blush, and he shrugged. “Kinda… since we got here?” he said a bit sheepishly and Steve made a small sound of disbelief.
“Are you kidding me? You’ve been giving yourself frostbite and not—I’m rounding up the kids, we’re leaving—” Steve started, and Eddie quickly shook his head.
“No! Don’t! I don’t wanna ruin their fun,” Eddie insisted, and Steve scoffed.
“And you losing your fingers isn’t going to do that?” he asked bitchily, putting a hand on his waist and raising an eyebrow.
“It’s not cold enough for that and you know it,” Eddie replied flatly. “Seriously, Steve, I’m going to be fine. I have a hot drink, a hot fire, and a hot boyfriend. I’ll warm up real quick right here.”
Steve’s eyes narrowed as he considered Eddie’s words and when he opened his mouth to speak, his phone began to ring.
“It’s Max,” he said, frowning a bit as he answered. “Hey! What’s— why’s everyone yelling…? So, no one’s hurt but…? Okay, let me get this straight,” Steve started, smirking a little bit and rolling his eyes at Eddie. “You and Jane are done hanging out with ‘smelly, stupid boys’ but you want me to call in five minutes and end everything early…? What’s in it for me, huh?”
Eddie snorts and sips at his mulled wine, shuffling backward to the bench and scooping his polar bear up into his lap while Steve hummed noncommittally as Max spoke.
“Hmm, I’ll consider your offer closely. Eddie’s been giving himself frostbite this whole time anyway, so I was about to call it anyway,” Steve finally said, ignoring Eddie’s indignant squawk. “Yeah, the butthead didn’t wear any gloves. Do I still have to wait five minutes…? Perfect, we’re at the fire pit near the mulled wine stand… Yeah, the one close to the gates. See you soon.”
Eddie pouted at Steve as he hung-up and sat down next to him. “You didn’t have to do that,” he grumbled, relaxing as Steve wrapped an arm around his shoulders and tugged him closer.
“Hey, Max wanted to be rescued from the boys anyway. If anything, I’m doing her more of a favour than you,” he said flippantly, and Eddie rolled his eyes.
“Sure, whatever,” Eddie said, and within seconds they could hear the noisy approach of the gaggle of preteens.
The ride back to Steve’s was a whirlwind, with Steve insisting on dropping Mike, Lucas, and Dustin off at their homes first, even though they had to circle back on their route to drop Max off at Jane and Will’s house. The moment they dropped Dustin off and it was just the three kids in the back, Eddie immediately understood the inefficient route. Near-silence immediately fell in the car, the only disturbance being the Christmas music quietly playing on the radio as they drove.
“Holy shit, I think my ears are actually ringing,” Eddie commented, and Steve snorted.
“You get used to the shrill din of Mike Wheeler and Dustin Henderson arguing at the top of their lungs,” he replied, and Max scoffed at that.
“No one gets used to that, Dad,” she argued, and Eddie could see her smirk when Jane and Will giggled at that.
Finally, once they were child-free and back at Steve’s house, Eddie felt ready to crash on the couch and maybe pass out for a little nap. But of course, Steve had other ideas.
“Nuh-uh, you froze at the festival I dragged you to, so I’m gonna make sure you get all warmed up,” Steve insisted, dragging Eddie into a kiss that he refused to let Eddie deepen.
Despite Eddie’s best efforts, Steve was apparently on a mission to actually warm him up. It wasn’t just a euphemism for getting Eddie upstairs to his bed or anything like that.
Instead, Steve drew Eddie a bath in the huge soaker tub in the master bathroom, complete with a fancy bath bomb and even fucking candles. To drive home that this wasn’t about sex, Steve kissed him sweetly, chastely and said, “Enjoy your bath. I’ll let you know when dinner’s ready.”
Eddie wasn’t sure how long he was in the tub, luxuriating in the warm, lavender-scented water, before Steve poked his head inside to let him know that dinner was served. But the bath did the trick, warming him to his core and leaving him feeling loose and relaxed. Sleepy almost, but not completely exhausted like he had felt when they got home after the festival.
‘Wait, not home. To Steve’s house,’ Eddie corrected himself internally, getting out of the tub and slipping on the fluffy bathrobe Steve had said he could use while he was over a couple weeks ago. There was also a pair of slippers that Eddie had left by accident when he spent the night months ago that Steve had placed with the robe.
Downstairs, there was a fire going in the fireplace and Steve was setting out two plates of the meal he prepared on the coffee table. Steve had also gotten changed into his own bathrobe at some point, and that had Eddie struggling with the urge to confess his love right then and there.
“What?” Steve asked and Eddie blinked, startled out of his thoughts. He hadn’t realized he was staring, or standing there for so long.
“Nothing, just admiring my amazing boyfriend, that’s all,” Eddie replied with a giant grin, crossing the room and wrapping his arms around Steve’s shoulders to pull him into a kiss. Once again, all of his attempts to deepen the kiss were thwarted until Steve pulled away.
“Eddie,” he warned, his tone light but the scold in it was obvious to Eddie’s ears. “Dinner first.”
“Haven’t you heard the saying, though?” Eddie challenged lightly, grinning against Steve’s lips as he placed another kiss on them. “Life’s short, so eat dessert first?”
“What did I say, Eds?” Steve asked instead, his tone full of that firmness that Eddie found himself craving more and more often.
With a sigh, Eddie replied, “Dinner first.”
“That’s right,” Steve said with a pleased hum as he stepped out of Eddie’s embrace and motioned for him to sit on the couch.
They ate their food in comfortable quiet, nothing but logs crackling in the fireplace breaking the silence of Steve’s living room. Usually, such quiet would be excruciating for Eddie, but with Steve it felt natural, perfect even. Like it was safe. Quiet moments with Steve never made Eddie feel like he had to fill them with chatter or noise like he would with most other people.
By the time they were done eating, Eddie felt so relaxed he was close to dozing off right there on the couch with his plate in his lap.
“Let’s get you upstairs and tucked into bed,” Steve hummed, standing up and holding his hands out to help Eddie to his feet.
“The dishes…” Eddie pointed out, but Steve just kept tugging him along behind him.
“They can stay right there for one night, Eds,” he replied as they climbed the stairs.
It wasn’t long before they were cuddled up under the covers on Steve’s bed, robes and slippers discarded on the floor next to the bed, and holding each other as they kissed softly, sweetly.
“How’re you feeling?” Steve asked quietly without pulling away. “Warmed up?”
“Definitely,” Eddie replied, eyes fluttering as his body lit up under Steve. “Feeling so warm.”
“Mm, I bet,” Steve chuckled, finally deepening their kiss as one of his hands wandered over Eddie’s chest, down his abdomen, and toward his hip. Before Eddie could dream of whining about being teased, Steve shifted his weight and his thigh pressed between Eddie’s legs. At Eddie’s choked off moan, Steve sighed and said, “Yeah, definitely feeling warm now.”
“Stevie, please,” Eddie whispered against Steve’s mouth as he fought the urge to rut against his thigh.
“You’re not too tired, sweetheart?” Steve asked, and Eddie could hear the genuine concern in his voice.
“Never too tired for you, babe,” he replied easily, and he absolutely meant it. Then he sheepishly added, “it might have to be just this, though, if that’s okay?”
“Of course, that’s okay, Eds,” Steve replied, pulling back to meet Eddie’s eyes as he shifted until he was settled between his legs. “So perfect when you tell me your limits, baby.”
The praise hit Eddie hard in the gut, heat pooling south so quickly he felt dizzy with it. Spreading his legs wider to wrap around Steve’s waist, Eddie moaned when they slotted against each other like matching puzzle pieces.
They rocked together like that, lazy and relaxed, making out softly until Eddie was squirming underneath Steve.
“What do you need, baby?” Steve asked in a whisper, rolling his hips a bit more determinedly, dragging a flurry of whimpers out of Eddie’s throat.
“Need t’come,” he gasped, arching against Steve and whining when Steve worked a hand between their bodies and wrapped his fingers around both of them. “Please, Stevie, m’so close.”
“Me too, Eds,” Steve groaned before capturing Eddie’s lips again in a sloppy, hungry kiss. Just when the coil in Eddie’s gut pulled so tight it was almost painful, Steve whispered a gentle, “come for me, sweetheart.”
Just like that, Eddie spilled between them, making a mess of both of their stomachs and Steve’s hand. When Steve didn’t stop his rocking and stroking, Eddie whimpered almost pitifully, begging Steve to come so the exquisite, perfect torture of overstimulation would end. After only a few more strokes, Steve came with a cry so sweet, Eddie felt tears spring to his eyes as he threw his arms around his boyfriend, refusing to let him go.
They held each other, panting and kissing each other sloppily for a long time, just long enough for the mess between them to become tacky and unpleasant.
“I’ll go grab a cloth, okay?” Steve said with a laugh, carefully getting off the bed to avoid smearing anything on the linens or comforters.
Eddie watched his beautiful boyfriend disappear into the ensuite, feeling warm and floaty, taken care of, and treasured. When Steve returned, Eddie knew he was looking up at the man with the sappiest, lovesick gaze if the way Steve’s cheeks turned pink was anything to go by.
“What?” he asked with a little smirk as he carefully wiped the warm cloth over Eddie’s lower abdomen and softened cock.
Taking a deep breath, Eddie replied, “I love you.”
Steve froze and his eyes met Eddie’s with a fierce intensity that would’ve terrified Eddie if a grin didn’t split Steve’s face a second later. It was huge, bright, and absolutely goofy with the way it crinkled the corners of his eyes. It was Eddie’s favourite Steve smile.
“Even though I prefer Christmas over Halloween?” Steve asked in a voice that was so happy that Eddie couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of his own chest.
“Hey, you might’ve made a convert out of me,” he confessed, winking at Steve’s shocked gasp.
“Are you serious? I made you a Christmas lover, too?” Steve pressed, tossing the cloth in the general direction of the ensuite so he could lay on top of Eddie.
“Yeah, just as long as I get to spend it with you and Max,” Eddie replied, reaching up to tuck some of Steve’s hair behind his ears. “As long as you and Max still want me around.”
“Well, you’re in luck, Eds, because I intend to keep you as long as you’ll let me,” Steve hummed, dipping his chin to capture Eddie’s lips in a slow, searching kiss before whispering against his lips, “I love you, too.”
And, yeah, Eddie was pretty sure Christmas was going to become his favourite holiday and stay that way for a long time. Maybe even forever if his luck kept up.
I was tagged by @scarcrossdlvrs @wynnyfryd @steddieas-shegoes and @eriquin
rules: Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some quantitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. Would rather eat glass than do this? Please don’t eat glass but don’t feel like you have to do this either.
Words & Fics
183,675 words on AO3 (plus a handful of stuff on tumblr)
30 fics published to ao3
2 multi-chap fics completed
Top 5 Fics by Kudos
i could be honest, i could be human (2,075)
here i have found some peace of mind (1,246)
when heaven falls, i will be your light (783)
grow back your sharpest teeth (you know my desire) (503)
i can't tell where you end and where i start (451)
My Fandom Fic Events in 2023
lex's spicy six fanworks challenge - summer
@steddiemicrofic
@steddieholidayexchange
discord server secret santa fic exchange
Upcoming Projects and Continued WIPs for 2024
pom!verse sequel
pom!verse aside
romcom!au
completing both of my summer fics for lex's summer challenges
icbh sequel (kinda)
a bunch of like... original stuff actually
Reflections
So looking at my stats on AO3, i hadn't really written anything in three years and just... I have to say it's been so fucking excellent getting back into writing? Like I desperately missed doing this and I'm so fucking happy to be back at it. The past couple months have been hell at work and I know I haven't really put much out because of that, but like... I'm still writing and still creating and I can't wait to start posting some stuff again.
i feel like everyone's already been tagged so i'm not going to tag anyone else haha
This is literally some of the saddest shit I've ever written honestly, and it's without any real context. It's also, in my honest opinion, some of my best writing?
This is about OC's in a mafia!AU me and my scromies have gotten brainrotted on.
Sam: mine
Dom: @patchworkgargoyle
Anyway, this is a letter written by Sam that's in "response" to a letter he received from his dead lover, Dom. You can read the letter from Dom here, written by the lovely Sav.
CW: Major character death (the major character is one of the OC's and he's dead dead, like he's not coming back), suicide ideation, grief.
Anyway, uhm, here it is?
Hey Sweetheart,
This is literally so fucking stupid, it's not like you’ll even read this, and I know your dramatic ass is both laughing at me in the afterlife and pissed I didn't let you have the last word. Isn't that just us, though?
I reread all of our letters over the years you were away and I know your first letter back to me was probably one of your petty, shitty little Fuck You’s because I stopped sending my letters. I say sending because I didn’t stop writing them. Jesus, Sweetheart, I was so fucking in love with you, even back then. I was fucking insane about you and I knew it the fucking moment you got out of my truck at the airport.
Do you know how close I was to chasing you down and telling you? Right then and there? Jesus fucking Christ, you probably would’ve stabbed me and I would’ve deserved it for dumping all that at your feet right before you had to leave for however long your old man told you to. So, I didn’t.
But I watched you walk into that airport, and I waited to see if you would turn around, even once, just to look at me one more time. I told myself that if you looked back at me, then maybe you were in love with me, too, and I would fucking disregard your stupid, bitchy “don’t call, don’t text, don’t visit” garbage. But you didn’t.
You just disappeared into the airport and I had to continue on with my life as if I didn’t just fucking let one of the brightest parts walk out of it.
God, Dom, in your stupid beautiful shitty letter you said you wouldn’t change this, and that’s real big of you I guess. I’m a selfish man, though, and if I could, I would fucking rewrite it all so we weren’t doing this. You in a fucking crematorium and me more than half a bottle of whiskey into a letter to my dead fucking soulmate a dead man. We’d have a goddamn happy ending that neither of us probably deserve because I don’t want to do this without you.
And ultimately, I would rewrite all of this so that I actually told you how you made me feel. I would rewrite things so I chased after you at the airport and told you I love you, even if you would’ve stabbed me for it. I would rewrite all of this so I told you I love you all those fucking months ago when we laughed together on the sidewalk outside your apartment and then you kissed me and dragged me back inside. Yeah, I remember that, too. It was an amazing night.
I don’t know how to end this, because if I do it’s over. I’ll finally have the last word and I don’t want it. I want you to fucking be here to scoff at me, to critique my writing, to call it cliche and boring and boorish and shit. I want this to be something I’m going to put in the mail for you to open it and read it and get your fucking smell all over it because you’re fucking alive. I have your fucking cologne but it smells all wrong because it’s missing YOU, and it makes me want to die every time I open that stupid bottle. But I do it anyway because it’s the closest I’ll ever get to kissing you again.
I need to finish this, so I’ll just bite the fucking bullet and do it. I can’t write this forever because we’re having your stupid interment in a couple days before Vinny, Kez, and the baby go away. It’s a small thing, don’t worry, just a handful of us. The big one that’ll piss you off is going to happen after we deal with the shitstain that got you.
I love you, Dom, and I hate myself everyday for not telling you. It is one of my biggest fucking regrets in my life. Every single day I spent kissing you and not telling you what it meant to me will fucking haunt me forever. What could we have been if I wasn’t a fucking coward? Would the ring you gave me mean what I wish it did? And I am a coward, more than you were, okay? I knew I was in love with you for eleven fucking years and I didn’t say shit about it.
Anway, save me a spot in whatever toasty spot of Hell you’ve probably taken over. I’ll see you when I get there, Sweetheart. Forgive me for hoping it’s sooner rather than later. I told you I’m a selfish man.
Aaaaand tagging the honourary scromies: @hellion-child @lovemesomeartsstuff (since both of you seem to like all the OC posting too)
Kez stood at the end of the hospital bed, staring down at zir husband with a numbness ze hadn’t felt in years. Since the brothel, before Vincenzo got zir out of there.
It had been hours since Vincenzo got out of surgery, and he was still not awake. The doctors were certain he would pull through, and Kez couldn’t stop zirself before they snarled, “He better.”
Vincenzo had to wake up so ze could yell at him, grab him by the throat and send him to hell zirself for that stupid fucking move he pulled back there. He had to wake up because too much was riding on him succeeding for him to fucking die.
“Ms. D’Amore.”
Kez blinked and released zir hold on the footboard of the bed, shaking out zir hands as ze turned to face the owner of the voice behind zir. Ze was getting distracted, not even hearing someone coming into the room, and that was dangerous. This hospital wasn’t on enemy turf, but it wasn’t on Vincenzo’s either; ze had to be alert.
Luckily, it was only Tig, one of Vincenzo’s boys, his most trusted bodyguard and enforcer.
“You were saying something?” Kez asked after a few long moments, and Tig’s face changed. It was a sympathetic expression, and Kez had the very uncharitable urge to smack him for it.
“There was a situation earlier, down at Yoyo’s club. Carver’s people showed up and had to be dealt with,” Tig repeated, and Kez’s hackles raised. Fucking vultures, already circling. Or maybe the more accurate comparison would be sharks, scenting blood in the water.
“How serious was it?” ze asked, turning zir gaze back to Vincenzo on the bed.
“They were put down. Expeditiously,” Tig replied, and Kez nodded.
“How many civilian witnesses?” ze asked next, dreading this answer most. Civilian witnesses usually meant the cops would come sniffing around and would need to be bribed. Ze hated dealing with cops.
“None,” Tig replied, and when Kez shot a look over zir shoulder, he raised his hands defensively. “It happened in Yoyo’s office. Winters was with her, they just needed help with clean-up.”
Kez took a deep breath through zir nose and let it out slowly, nodding once. “Go to the club. Both of us being seen here will only make them bolder.”
Tig didn’t move. “I shouldn’t leave you here alone,” he eventually said, and anger rose hot and bitter in Kez’s throat.
“You will do as you’re fucking ordered, Faulkner,” Kez bit out, wringing zir hands around the foot board of the bed again.
“Boss wouldn’t like—”
“If Vincenzo wanted me to give a shit about what he would’ve liked, he wouldn’t have gotten himself shot,” Kez all but snarled, whirling on Tig and crowding him against the door. “Now, let’s try this again, shall we? Go. To the club. Now.”
Tig stared down at zir, expression closed off and tense before he nodded once. “On it, Boss.”
With that, he slipped out the door and left Kez in the room alone with zir husband.
Returning to the bed, ze stood at the side of it and stared down at Vincenzo. He looked wrong, almost small against the stark sheets, his hair an uncharacteristic mess and the hospital gown the wrong shade of blue for his complexion. He was alive, but barely, and it was terrifying staring down that possibility.
“You hear that, Vincenzo? They’re already coming for everything you built,” Kez bit out, low and quiet as the veil of numbness briefly parted, just long enough to feel the ache of zir heart shattering, and tears sprung to zir eyes.
“I love you.” “I wish you didn’t.”
It was the last thing they said to each other before Vincenzo lost consciousness, succumbing to the blood-loss. How could that man be choking on his own blood and still manage to tell Kez he loved zir? It was insane, something out of the terrible romantic dramas Vincenzo pretended he didn’t watch. And yet he did it, and Kez didn’t respond in kind, and now he might never wake back up.
“You need to wake up, Vincenzo,” Kez continued, trying to keep zir voice even as ze slipped zir hand into Vincenzo’s. “It’s all going to fall apart.”
That wasn’t true, necessarily. Or more, that wasn’t the real reason behind that grasping, clawing thing inside zir. Kez didn’t give a shit about the Organization, the Family.
Ze cared about Vincenzo. Ze cared about them, and the thought of them becoming just Kez made it feel like ze was being skinned alive.
Before ze could stop zirself, Kez crawled up onto the bed and curled around Vincenzo, pressing a wobbly kiss to his shoulder.
“You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you, Vin,” Kez whispered against his shoulder, finally letting a few tears escape as ze tangled their fingers together in zir lap. “I need you, Vin. Please, wake up.”
