#proof reading is not a thing

[plasticfangtastic]

Can We Be Lonely Together? Ch. 11

A Homelander X Stalker! Reader fanfic

This is also a supe! reader fic, GN reader but male leaning.

Author's note: Thanks for all who've read this so far, only 1 more chapter to go unsure if I shoudl write a short epilogue. This is a long chapter, wanted to post this last Sat. but R.L. got in the way.

R18+ mild smut, murder mention, cheating, bruise kink, drug mention, long chapter.

Chapter 11

For us

After the cops showed up, the evening had become a blur, cops had come over the bullet that shook the whole floor, conveniently soon your neighbor had called the cops about an out of control supe, Homelander had stepped out claiming that his friend had called him frightened by the gunshot sounds, the neighbor melted at the sight of the handsome Super accepting a quick CashApp transfer to paid for damages after exchanging details for Vought lawyers, while throwing a quick embarrassing lie about allergens and the physiological nature of superpowers.

You hadn’t care much for it as moments after– you were flung around his shoulders and taken miles away, back into Vought towers not the 62 floor but down the basements’s besements, beneath layers of concrete, in walls so thick you could’ve bet your ass you were trapped in the same facility that once held Homelander– but instead of bare walls and stilted air conditioner breeze, you got beeping machines , a nurse looked over as your eyes opened, saying nothing towards you, instead to your guest of honor, Homelander lowered his copy of “Reminders of Him” he waved his hand urgently towards the nurse to leave. 

He had been so caring making sure of emptying the floor leaving only a single nurse and doctor left hovering around for your comfort.

“Morning Pusher.”

A light smile crossed your lips, the way Homelander had mentioned your “hero” name made it blatantly obvious of whom he was referring to deep down, it was amusing.

“It must’ve been fate… that both me and your arch nemesis names rhyme.”

“Some sweet irony I recond, you’re far cuter than William if that’s any consolation.”

“You still jerked off to that guy.”

“The accent… is irresistible.”

He clicked his tongue straightening himself, placing a nude hand on your forehead brushing loose strands off your face.

“I prefer you over William." His face turned stern-- Your body is wrecked. The V… has likely caused you permanent cognitive decline, you suffered loss of gray matter according to the doctor, which made your already unstable powers even more unstable. The V was just a piece of sticky tape holding what it had broken… your heart is fairly erratic and your blood pressure” he shakes his head wide eyed– is awful, even if you quit cold turkey your brain is ruined– you ain’t like A-Train you can’t get a new heart and be all hunky dory.”

“And the good news is…?”

“Your body will heal your cardiovascular system eventually, and maybe over time your healing abilities regardless of how limited they are… might heal your brain… but I already have a couple supes in mind that could potentially help you.”

“Basically I did this to myself.”

It hurt taking fistfuls of your blanket, harsh lines formed on the bridge of your nose.

“Pusher… ugh… Y/N you can’t take anymore V! I can keep you here where it’s quiet until you start feeling better.”

It failed to sound like a request.

“You already told Deep about me… am surprise you didn’t kill him”

You changed the topic.

“He was pleading and crying telling me he was being blackmailed by you. Sounded like something you would do.”

He stroke circles on your forehead leaning closer until his body rested entirely on the bed’s handles, pulling his chair towards you breaching in all the remaining space as his book felt with a loud thud into the ground, he wanted to laid beside you but all the cables put him on edge that just too much pressure and your already thin veins will pop open, squirting all over the place. In truth both him and John had known of your health simply blaming to your use of V and other narcotics, hoping it would cure itself. Yet you pulled on his sleeve raising your arm above your head urging him to join, his eyes turned black and wide rushing in an instant to taste your warmth, relaxing as your heartbeat picked up– it excited him, reassuring him that it was still functional.

Placing his hand delicately around your stomach, a flash of sound creeps into your mind thinking of the corpse in your bedroom. 

It had been a long two day coma while Homelander watched and allowed selected hands to touch you. You kissed the top of his head having a quiet conversation where neither of you spoke, just the sound of the machines and fingers exploring surfaces and each other, both hoping that this tranquility would last a minute longer.

“What did you tell John? About Firecracker, and shit?”

“John is asleep for now… I broke up with her'' He shoved his hand into a hidden compartment on the back of his belt pulling out a thin albeit outdated iphone– see I texted her.”

It was a long chain of message bubbles after a simple “We’re done ;)” he kept scrolling down her replies hadn’t really stopped for the last two days.

“He’s angry at me… but I told him that Firecracker was a fling… why waste our time with that! When this works so well– I told him that you forgive him… us, and that you’re here because of your drug habit.”

He kissed the bottom of your jowl, scooting closer as if that was even possible.

“You lied to him?”

“Lying to oneself doesn’t count, pumpkin.” He murmured against your neck– I told Ashley to keep an eye for her just in case she tries making a scene… she’ll be more than just fired if she tries to get back at me.”

“Or I could just read her mind and give you the heads-up.”

That got him excited.

“I’ll make sure it’s all perfect.” he kissed you again.

He kissed your chest, catching a whiff of your sweat, scrunching his hand on your blanket, two days of watching you immobile terrified him, to think you wouldn’t be there to cuddle him until he sleep, of stroking his hair gently until he woke up from his nightmares, of never feeling your tender flesh shivering under him.

He needed you to comfort him… always.

He wanted you next to him for every dawn to come.

“That girl… she was… she was my mother…” His eyes were hidden but you felt their sting– I look a lot like my grandfather… His name is Otto y’know. That aunt of mine, she looks nothing like her. John was happy… that you did all of that to give us a family, I might need your help to calm him down about wanting to meet them, our cousins are still young so we can’t hang out but Ryan could”

“You took the body to the police…?”

It had been a strange memory to witness, Homelander had called the last detective that had kept working on the cold case, personally flew him to witness the corpse while selling him a crazy story, his biological grandmother had dementia and cancer so it would’ve been impossible to get any information corroborating Homelander claim that she was another one of Vought Compound V recipients, and the receipt he had faked held too much weight.

His aunt had come this morning, her hair a mess and her skin clammy– she had been frightened. 

A ghost slept peacefully in the metal slab, hardly touched by time questioning nothing about the V, simply accepting that it would be something her parents could’ve done.

The corpse was still fresh, by the time it had traveled from your home to the Vought morgue, it had shown no signs of deterioration, her skin still dewey and peach, her lips still pink and her fingers still soft, the pathologist was just as baffled as to how her body stood so fresh, ever her eyes were wet– she was dead but her body had missed the memo.

The woman had shared, that their mother had been a professional ballerina, she had traveled the world until she met Otto a man 12 years her junior, and decided to start a family– Frida had been talented but her mother was cruel forcing her to dance until all her toes had broken twice, and her father desired nothing but perfection from her which was rich coming from a drunk. She had ran away, and for two weeks they assumed she was with some boy that had caught her fancy… Homelander was the only man who knew the truth.

Even thinking of it in your arms made him whimper, lingering on the memory of his mother fading warmth, John dawdled on the memory while staring at her untouched corpse… of what if’s– Would he have grown loved? This woman was only eleven years older than him, could've been more sister than aunt, would he have been spoiled by her? Would he have grown to be a dancer like his grandmother? Or a gymnast like his grandfather? 

John wanted to tell them somehow.

To agree that his mother had been a runaway, who met a boy got pregnant and due to her circumstances was unable to get an abortion, that she gave birth at a clinic ran by Samaritan’s embrace who gave him V, and soon after she had run away leaving Homelander nothing but a short papertrail, John could’ve sold the Vought storyline, that he was adopted by his fake TV parents or diverge… Claim she was found by Vought one way or another willfully handling her infant to them. No matter how he tried to sell it, his mother couldn’t be a martyr, she couldn’t be pious– if he wanted to lie to them.

His Aunt held the corpse until her whimpers and the cries of animals were indistinguishable, waking him from his trance.

Grateful that Homelander had finally brought her peace, that she could finally grieve and heal, to know her sister had come home… They had wished you'd been there… the way the woman stared at him– had his design evoke a deja-vu? She showed him pictures of her sons and how one looked just like her sister, as if he didn’t look carved from the same stone as Homelander, the teenage boy looked so much like him even if the nose was all wrong.

You stroke his hair, seeking to comfort him for John was too upset and only wanted to sleep, to remain oblivious to all… angry and upset at his brother.

It would be a couple more days before you were allowed out the infirmary, an armed bodyguard escorted you home, your place had been cleaned– not a spec of hair or dust had been left behind and all your damaged furniture had been replaced with identical replicas, your fridge had been restocked of all expired items and made to look brand new, even the damaged wall had been completely repainted leaving it with a glossy finish, your clothes had been neatly folded and not even one single dirty sock had been left on the plastic laundry basket.

The guard had been given a simple instruction to make sure you made it home safely, and for you to pack a day bag as Homelander had requested your stay for a couple days, just as a precaution, you obeyed making sure to take some of your ingredients to cook for him as a thanks for doing so much.

He had doctors check on you daily, monitoring what he’d already recorded in his brain and made sure to think very loudly too, readying your medication for you, watching you take it even using his X-ray vision to make sure the Buprenorphine and others went down your throat, taking great care to carefully drop your beta blockers eye drops, watching your veins and heart react to it– Homelander had forced a routine and you comply not out of fear but out of novelty. Nobody had once cared for you in such way, he prepared your baths and clothes making sure to join you and wash your back, glad you always returned the favor. He had demanded Deep to restock the department. By the end of the second week of your stay, the entire department had been returned to its former glory, something your supervisor Anika was over the moon about, you couldn’t afford to stress your frail heart and damaged brain..

Before you knew it, you were barefoot in the kitchen humming old songs while a precocious child asked for your help with homework, Ryan had wanted all sorts of company more than anything– he had figure out his father had a soft spot for you, he was a spoiled child and out of the two adult he had access to (the second being Ashley) you were the only one willing to talk over with his dad about friends coming over and sleepovers… as if you both didn't have a tracker on the kid to make sure he was safe, plus you had him wired, there wasn’t a single childish conversation that you weren’t privy to anyhoo– mic or not.

Homelander had made routines and ceremonies, he would come home and your scenes began: the welcome homes, the picking of his gloves in lieu of coats and fedoras, a cold glass of milk while awaiting for dinner, listening to him catching up with Ryan, rubbing his shoulders after dinner (not that he felt it but it was a kind gesture nevertheless) and then the pre-bed cultus– washing his hair, listening to his loud moan as your fingers stroke roughly at his scalp, washing his back and letting his pamper you with lotion more expensive than it should be legal to sell, giggling alone as he wiped out the car polisher not that he understood what made it so funny to you, your conversations one sided only the sound of your voice filled the void within marbled walls, he loved the sound of his voice but there was a comfort that came from this unique brand of silence, constantly testing just how sharp your powers were, forcing himself to get used to them.

Homelander invited you to bed, suffocating you with his unusually high body temperature.

Kissing you until both your lips were bruised, nipping at your skin and painting purple constellations, marking you– this was his own brand of chains and collars, softer on your skin than metal, making sure nobody in this building would dare staring at his beloved, to remind you he was whom you belonged to, lost in the storm that was your eyes as you watched him paint you, feeling how hot your body became as he teased you further, your touch, your voice and your sight poisoned him with a love he was certainly began to doubt he deserved, how could you look at him so tenderly as he bit with such possessiveness, after forgiving his impulses.

As your apartment became more bare, and your fridge was left with nothing but unopened water bottles, you settled officially as a live-in maid.

In the eyes of Vought employees– of the few aware of your presence that had been his cover-up. Somewhat demeaning but it was the closest you both could get to a normal relationship at the time– you were a whole can of worm of dangerous loose ends, both your friends were clean on the outside: a rising star of the culinary world and former Supe whose extraordinary senses, could had once detected the smell of a bomb hidden inside an airport from the entrance or detected a trapped stranger under meters of rubble with just her hearing; Now used her keen senses to create extraordinary dishes. Your former handler, an accomplished journalist married to a high profile New York socialite with pedigree, A man who rubbed shoulders with the upper echelons of New York and country.

Two people whom it made sense for them to be friends with each other– not you.

A mystery with no past, no presence, no real name, and a long list of suspicious crimes, your friends were career criminals using their wealth and status to hide their amorality, how you came to befriend a cannibal and a two-face crook… not to mention Roman Ban and company was a mystery.

Homelander couldn’t even be certain that these friends of yours even knew your real name, or if they would as he burned all proof left in the Vought archives.

Homelander cleaned house for you. 

If he ever wanted to present you to the world, he was going to make sure all your affairs were in order… Roman’s wife had received quite the visit when he found the star spangled icon in her living room, more surprised to learn he wasn’t just shorter in person but was quite the personality, all she needed was a head on her piano and a hefty manila folder curated by you to behave. His wife was smart enough to know when to give up, she had young grandkids to protect, and Homelander had been nice enough to remind her that her family had inherited a large sum.

In the face of death and money people were painfully predictable.

John had come from his slumber playing pretend around you both, letting his brother feed him talking points, as you helped Ryan set the lighting for his latest film you could hear them both catching up as his son watched his father do its weird staring routine.

Reminding yourself that you couldn’t reply to his silent questions, to open your mouth and to not be perfectly in sync with him.

Alone at last, as Ryan slept– he handed you the last pill for the day.

“Your heart is sounding a lot better.”

“It would be a lot better if you would slip me a buspirone or a xanax.”

He didn’t laugh, hiding your teeth under a hard line you avoided that judgemental glare, he had a hundred questions about what happened with his mother but he wasn’t ready to let you think he was crazy, his mind already toying with the idea of introducing you both, brushing your hair imagining crushing your neck if you responded the wrong way, kissing your neck right at the spot where he thought your bone would tear the skin open, the way you smell more and more like him filled him with delight, steering him away from such intrusive thoughts.

“Just joking mi sol… something bothering you?”

“Roman’s wife, she backed down but… his kids are continuing the investigation… should I give them a visit?”

He wanted reassurance, the way he stroked your neck down to your back watching your lungs inflate as you leaned into the black marble countertops.

“I almost want to say ‘I told you so, silly’ but I also wanna suggest a ‘team-up’”

He raised his eyebrow urging you to speak.

“I need to make a phone call.”

You dial an all too familiar number, even late at night you knew Bruno would answer your call– after all it had to be serious and urgent if Kent wasn’t answering your calls.

“Hey, I need to speak to Kent urgently.”

Bruno closed a door behind putting you on speaker as he walked around his lavish house.

“He’s in the office… I am starting to suspect he might’ve fallen asleep on his desk. I was just about to send one of my men to check up on him. He’s been covering the presidential election so he's been up and down the whole country following that Neuman…eugh”

“Not a fan? I’ll swing by his office then I’ll let you know if he's there… I was on my way there anyhoo.”

“That chick screams champagne liberal. Give her 2 weeks in office before she conveniently forgets all her selling points, plus have you seen her VP… anyways it was nice talking to you, ciao.” 

You turned to John.

“What are you planning?”

“One of the things I would’ve used on Roman before you decided to kill him, call it Plan G. Now let me get a coat… y’know where the USA network offices are in the city right?”

He nodded and followed you as you took a coat and brushed your hair as neatly as you could with your hands.

“Let me take care of you, John. Let me take some of the weight of the world off your shoulders… you don't have to be Atlas on your own.”

Your hands wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, always watching him with that adoration not adulation in your big eyes.

Eyes had hardly moved him before he met yours, none would ever move them as much yours could, pulled by your invisible strings, he reluctantly agreed, he understood why his brother had strongly fallen for you.

Flying about the city, watching a myriad of colors, the city so quiet from this height. you arrived at the offices entering from the roof after breaking the roof door locks.

The offices were near empty, especially at this hour–a couple souls stayed behind working but unsurprisingly for Homelander you knew where you needed to go and the few that were around didn’t take note of you, mostly focusing on the hero close by, 

Spotting his office you couldn’t even bother to knock.

“Don’t believe him when he says he thinks your article was incredible, he has definitely not read it.”

A couple files and knacks fell off his desk, as a young man's head came from behind the desk edge, mouth still sticky and Kent trying everything he could to hide his phallus.

“You know he's married with seven kids, right?” Your attention turned to your friend as you sat on the chair across from them– You’re lucky ‘cuz your husband was about to send one of his men to come check on you. Now scram!”

The man red like a beet wiped his face with his sleeve and with wobbly steps hurried out, turning suicidal and on the verge of tears as he saw Homelander blocking the door, shocked at the morbid chagrin on the Supe’s face, flashing his fangs as he watched the college intern run for his life.

“You blocked my number.”

“I said I never wanted to see you again.”

His fluster died down, putting his cock back in his trousers, throwing Homelander a dirty glance from the side, unafraid of the demon in spandex.

“Look if you had seven kids you would understand how sexless your life gets”

He said to Homelander for some odd reason, not that the man cared.

“What you don’t like waiting for the kids to go to sleep to have a quick fuck?” He replied, slightly irritated as you grinned towards Kent– can we get this over with, babe.”

“I agree with your owner. What do you want?”

“Release the news on Fowler Ban. Perks of babysitting his kids all this time… I got you enough shit to destroy that lil’shit.”

“What the crack, underage prostitutes or the possible murder?”

“All of it. Get the guys at Banvision distracted and away from me and him, now that Fowler and Sean took over the company it’d be perfectly timed.” You paused looking at the cumstains on the carpet– Fowler did kill that waitress at Bruno’s charity ball three years ago. I already emailed you the proof, check your spam folder.”

He turned to Homelander, he could see the scary supe but all he could think of was the small frightened little boy that was left alone in the dark for days until some lab coated freak remembered to feed him, he threw you a curious look figuring out that you had stayed silent about the dead kids, since that day Kent had been counting the days before he had to report on the end of the United States.

“Is not leverage you can use on me, and you should know that Kent.” You spat.

“I don’t want to die.” he chuckles– just surprised he’s kept you… Y/N is a handful, do you have what it takes to care for it?”

Kent stood up, wanting to see how far into the lion’s mouth he could put his fingers before its mawls dropped, Kent moved around until he could take your face pulling your chin up to examine the collar of hickeys, deducting just how possessive your new owner was from this alone and not the blinkers reflecting at the edge of his glasses, Kent pets your hair, stroking your cheeks with an intimacy that should only be known to Homelander.

“You will make him hate you in due time.”

“You hated me?” Homeland jumped as he heard your heart pick up.

“No. It takes a special kind of person to care for you… all your past lovers ran from you or stopped being good enough. Somebody always came by that ignited a flame… this one” He pointed at Homelander– you must be just as insane as they are to last this long”

“Get your fucking paws off Pusher before I shove your spinal cord up your own ass.”

A red light crossed the space between the two, earning Kent a chuckle even if his heart rate was highly elevated.

“Pusher. Damn… he even knows that… you must genuinely love him. I’ll write the piece not because I want to help you but because it’ll do me good in the long run. I trust Pusher to keep quiet about the intern, will you?”

“why would–

“We’ll stay quiet about Holsen. Is not like Homelander cares about your affairs.”

The red didn’t dissuade him, Kent continued to stroke you, gingerly teasing the man as the light continue to illuminate the room, Homelander didn’t attack more out of fear that this man would use you as a meat shield, mudblood or exalted being, it was hard to tell and he wouldn't risk a single scratch on your face, the way he held you so still as if you feared him, but more so the fact that you didn’t fight Kent, your sight solely focused on the skinny man.

Whatever he was thinking, whatever Homelander wasn’t privy to– had you enrapture, your heart rate erratic and the bitter stench of adrenaline attacking his nostrils.

“Don’t bother me again.”

He let go of you, even as you stood up your sight continued to follow Kent, taking Homelander’s arm as you pulled him out the office, trying to close the door behind you.

“By the way– you still interested in the Stillwell kid? I can have Dolores swing him a visit if you still convinced it's his bastard.”

He snorted as the door closed behind you thanks to the last bit of inertia.

You Froze, Kent was a vindictive man already sitting on his computer without care, you were a loose end for him, getting rid of you was the end goal, knowing this made your tongue bitter, you choked gasping slightly as your head crook towards your partner, his mouth agape, shaking slightly he watched the man every move, seeing how nonchalant he was behaving.

“What…w-what is he talking about… is he talking about Teddy?” The way his name rolled of his tongue was acrid, the vision of that child still in her arms, still stealing his most precious possession, the weightlessness of the child in his grip as he taunted Madelyn and Butcher, or its crying as he placed him on a bed of grass a few houses away from the explosion behind them and the temptation to have left him there, to let go of his love for that traitorous woman, but out of what little love he had clung to he made sure he would live– what the fuck is he talking about?”

“I… John… I swear I was going to tell you, I just didn’t see the need to stress you out so much after what happened to the girl” You clung to him forcing him to watch you plead, to feel your trembling being– I don’t even have any proof just a suspicion I discussed with Kent ages ago. He’s just being a bitch.”

“Why?” His voice is cold, still like a statue– why do you think Teddy was mine?”

Telling him the truth was out of the question, you knew just how bad he would be but in his mind he kept lingering on the last seconds of Stillwel’s life fantasizing that soon it would be your face copying hers, awaitign with his heart in histhroat for you to give him the wrong reply.

“There were no documents of Stillwell taking any IVF treatment– in the sense that there was no outside clinic she attended to receive it, she received multiple sessions but there were no receipts… I was bored trying to find something to give to Roman. I thought it was odd, in the end I found out she received the treatment at Vought obviously… She received two rounds of ICSI as part of her IVF treatment which proved successful.”

“ICSI…?”

“It’s what’s done in cases of male infertility.”

His eyes redden but he refused to cry, a strange half smiled creeped as he scoffed, her brows touched his mind racing.

“I thought that maybe… it was yours… because I mean everybody knew you two were close. I had no proof John, and you told me you couldn’t have kids easily.”

“You should’ve told me.”

“Why? To stress you out!? To make you think that this William Butcher that’s been haunting you down– who brought your father to kill you! Also tried to kill your kid! He tried taking Ryan from you, yet he gleefully would’ve murder your other son!?” The poorly lit fluorescence office lost all its color as his blue eyes faded in and out a red hue– It was just a passing comment.”

John pushed your hands away, moving further away from you stomping on some of the desk in his way, a mare flick out of frustration sends desks crashing, cables sparkling as paper flew and screens cracked.

“I tried to kill Theodore. I was going to let Butcher blow himself and the kid… I hated Teddy… he took what was mine” His tongue spits that sentence with poisonous resentment– she was mine! And then she had that fucking handbag! Do you have any idea… do you have any idea of what it will do to me… if that kid… if Teddy is mine?”

“No, all I know is that I’ll be here for you. Madelyn hurt you… if she hid that from you… after knowing all these years you two were together just how much you wanted to have a family, if she did that and robbed you of your right to be there for him– then I’ll be there to help you deal with whatever it’d be that hurts you… I’m sorry I didn’t mention it, I am sorry if I had proof I would’ve told you but I had nothing!”

“Too high to remember to bring that up?”

“Pretty much.”

A part of him wanted you to flinch, to cry a little more but you returned to your icy demeanor.

How easy it came for you to switch, thinking of that man behind the door he had at least figured out whom you learned that from.

Homelander waved his arms in defeat, you didn’t chase after him.

He wouldn’t come home until dawn. 

Left alone in the apartment after catching an Uber. He arrived through the balcony door as Ryan got ready for school and you packed his lunch, as you decorated his healthy bento box, he came in– his hair out of place, and his eyes puffy, his scowl sharper than your knife.

“Breakfast is almost done– made quiche muffins!”

Your eyes focused on slicing carrot sticks.

He stood silent watching you from the kitchen entrance.

“You look like you had too much tequila.” Your voice is meek– you want some coffee?”

“I went to see my aunt… just watched her from afar… then I went to Malta, found a small town, and just sat on people’s roof listening to these European hicks.”

“You killed them?”

You kept working casually, your indifference was comforting him.

“No. I just watched the sea… walked around the coast lines… broke some boats… is actually quite lovely. Malta… Monaco and Albania are quite beautiful… I should take you both to visit one day”

“Am I going to find out you sank a small mediterranean island in a minute?”

“I killed nobody…” His tone was so frank it was out of place– but I drank, found a winery… drank, puked a bit… kept drinking… I just… kept wondering about in the mediterranean…”

He told the truth, he had killed a couple animals and destroyed a small reef yet he had simply gotten buzzed, and pissed a lot.

He hadn’t cried which surprised you.

He wrapped his arms behind you, pressing his head against you, where it had always belonged he thought, your perfume a gentle caress after pointless meandering, his body fighting off the alcohol with ease there was hardly any remains of wine in his system but it remained in his breath, at least your skin was delicious.

John wanted to be enveloped in you, to be forever held and adored, all his rage melted at the sight of you still in your jammies, with an apron tied around you, your eyes were swollen and the bags under them just as big, but here you were doing everything you could to stay strong for a kid that wasn’t yours, and for him.

“You love me?”

“I love you… what’s wrong?” your worried pinch him.

“I don’t want to drink ever again… it tastes awful. I… Is not your fault, you had no reason to tell me about Teddy, no proof, nothing but a vague papertrail… but don’t ever hide anything from me… nothing… no matter what…”

He kissed trails at your nape, pushing you closer to him, his suit reek of the Ionian sea.

“Always be honest with me… my love. You know… maybe… we should get a cat… they’re low maintenance, we don’t have to walk them and they don’t bark… maybe a summer house in Monaco near the beach.”

You turned to face him, cleaning your hands before touching his face.

You kiss shy and exploratory, seeing how calm the beast was around you.

He kissed you, holding you so tight he had to remind himself not to break you, restraining himself, wanting you so close to wash Palermo off his skin.

"Two cats."

John almost had it all… A family he was too afraid to talk to, the grandparents who could do so much better than that old person’s home, and he had Ryan now, he had you and possibly another child.

Thoughts of your breakdown, of your fantasy that he had almost ruined– John would give you that.

The house, the children, the animals and the tree.

He kissed you, grinding on your body pressing you roughly against the edge of the counter, intertwining his hands against you, quickly unwrapping your apron, exploring the flesh beneath the layers.

You giggled, as his touch tickled your goosebumps, his fingers warm against your cold skin

It was the only music he wanted.

Your laugh filling all these sorrowful spaces, he could see it so vividly, he could live in these fake future memories, you in this kitchen baby talking to the cats… he could brave the litter boxes, if that meant you would be there.

Ryan shouted from across the living room asking where his smartwatch was, you both stopped holding each other, planting playful kisses on each other in your forced departures.

He threw you that charming smile that melted your heart, as he ripped his soiled jacket off and headed down to help Ryan, throwing his boots without care.

Your fingers traced your lips, tasting him still.

John was a sweet boy. A hotheaded, capricious creature, his impetuous nature was part of his charm.

John… you loved him… loved him too much… loved that damaged lil’boy, he was earnest in his desire to bring that fantasy to life, he loved you, he thought of you half way through it all.

He thought of you as he undressed and touched her velvety walls, he thought of you as he stopped himself and flew to the other side of the world, he thought of his brother and you as he drank for the first and last time in his life.

In his lips were the leftovers of her spit, washed away by wine. 

“It has to go… all of it… has to go… for us.”

I love you… but I had to make sure that in order for the both of us to be happy… I had to discipline you, in an absence of parents, in the absence of any responsible figure, I would.

The ‘Greywal & Co.’ sign staring down on me.

[anto-pops]

Midnight Rendezvous - Sylus x Female!Reader

Summary: An unmistakable tension has always existed between you and Sylus, and despite trying, you’ve never been able to make much sense of it. He’s haughty, arrogant, and too attractive for his own good. After he intervenes and saves you from a questionable situation during a girl’s night out, he whisks you away to his house despite your protests. You want to hate him— you want to be mad at him— but it’s increasingly difficult to fight against your desires, and before long… you stop trying. 

Alternatively summarized as you and Sylus having steamy, passionate sex for the first time. 

Word Count: 13.9k

Warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, rough sex, size difference

Full fic can be found here on Ao3 (with more diverse tags)

The Midnight Bar was, for all intents and purposes, an eclectic melting pot for all of Linkon’s denizens. With its colorful strobe lights and intense, pounding music that poured from the open doorway, it beckoned to any and all passersby, tempting them to set foot past the threshold and lose themselves in the sea of bodies that congregated on the dance floor. More often than not, you dismissed your repetitive, fleeting inclinations to come here for a night of fun. It was easier to justify your homebody tendencies with countless excuses that all pertained to work. But not tonight. 

No, tonight you wanted to let loose. You wanted to cast aside your worries and obligations for a few hours, to have a few fruity cocktails that you knew would have you on your ass tomorrow. You wanted to dance until your feet throbbed, until your back ached, until your ears rang and drowned out the never ending cacophony of concerns that plagued your mind.

Life was… complicated. You wanted to forget about it all for once. You wanted to be selfish. 

Tara had mercifully agreed to accompany you to the club. Phrasing it as a ‘girl’s night out’ had certainly helped matters, and her light-hearted aura would do wonders for your fluctuating emotions. It was easy to stay level headed when she was around, and you found yourself wondering if the data analyst was even aware of her influence. 

From your rooted position on the dance floor, you could see Tara at the bar waiting dutifully for the drinks she’d offered to buy, chatting with the burly bartender all the while. You knew you had no business drinking anymore– you’d had three of those strawberry whatever’s already– but the night called for it, and your clammy palms craved the chilled feeling of the thick, cocktail glass more than was probably healthy. The steady ebb and flow of the music had you moving in sync with the crowd around you flawlessly; your hips swayed, your arms languidly rose above your head, and your eyes fluttered shut as you rolled your head back to toss a few strands of hair out of your face. 

Nothing else existed to you in that moment, and you were more than willing to ride the brainless high for a while longer. Wanderers, Grandma and Caleb, The Hunter’s Association, your heart condition… all of it was inconsequential. Every thought that entered your mind dissipated into nothing just as quickly as it appeared, and the last thing you planned to do was squander a second of the reprieve. 

That is, until a warm, broad hand appeared on your waist. 

Your eyes flew open at the same time you looked over your shoulder, and your field of view was instantly obscured by a familiar chest clad in a black and red button-up shirt. A smokey, almost spicy cologne flooded your senses, and you recognized the scent even before you craned your neck back to meet Sylus’ imposing gaze. He looked the same as always; annoyingly attractive. His pale hair was effortlessly combed off his forehead to showcase those ruby-red eyes that had once imbued you with a healthy dose of fear. Now though, the sight of them only stoked the flames of rebellion within you. 

What the hell was he doing in Linkon City? Why was he here of all places? 

“All this time and I only ever had you pegged as an indoor cat,” his sultry voice reverberated against you as he bent down to speak directly against your ear, and much to your dismay, you shivered involuntarily. “You never fail to surprise me, kitten.” 

On shaky legs, you managed to step out of Sylus’ reach, his fingers trailing across your hip until you were far enough away that his hand fell back to his side. His expression was the usual smug variant you typically saw plastered to his face, and he cocked his head to the side as he took in your disheveled appearance. For whatever reason, your confidence from earlier seemed to vanish completely, and you found yourself feeling incredibly self-conscious having him see you like this. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that you looked… messy. The thin sheen of sweat on your face had your hair clinging to your cheeks for dear life, and the thrum of liquor in your veins warmed you so thoroughly that you were confident you were flushed from head to toe. 

Out of everyone that could have possibly crossed your path tonight, why did it have to be him? You would have preferred that Zayne walked in to chastise you for your poor life choices rather than the puffed up, Adonis-incarnate before you now. Stupid Sylus with his stupid, attractive smile and his stupid perfect body. 

Having stared at him for long enough, you mercifully didn’t slur your words when you bit out, “What are you doing here?” 

“I think I’m the one who should be asking you that, Miss Hunter.” He easily closed the minuscule distance between the two of you with half a step, gingerly putting the back of his hand against your forehead to gauge your temperature. You swatted the appendage away and scowled, your irritation rising when he smirked in response to the motion. “What will people say when they hear that Linkon’s valiant defender is drunk in the club on a Thursday night? Have you finally tossed away your self-imposed restrictions to join the rest of society in debauchery?” 

“I’m not drunk,” you retorted, and the dry look Sylus shot you conveyed just how willing he was to believe you. “I’m not! I’m just having a bit of fun. I don’t work tomorrow, so Tara and I decided to have a girl’s night out. Which means you can’t be here.” 

“Can’t I? Or will you run to the nearest police officer and tell them that the leader of Onychinus showed face at the Midnight Bar? I didn’t think you had it in you, sweetie.” 

To hear him even suggest such a thing made your stomach sink into the floor, and you stood up straight as you nervously glanced around the room to make sure no one had heard him so boldly announcing his title. “Quiet down! I swear it’s like you want to be caught. I wouldn’t do that, I just– why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be at home?” 

At home clearly meant the N109 Zone, but Sylus picked up on your shrouded speech well enough. He fluidly shifted to allow a cluster of younger girls to dart past him through the crowd, but his eyes never wavered from yours. “Why else would I deign to grace Linkon City with my presence? I’m here on business. It’s since concluded, but I wanted to grab a drink. I wasn’t expecting to find you in the middle of the dance floor all by yourself.” 

Your tipsy brain was slow to process all of his information, the most prudent of which had to do with who he was discussing business with in this part of the city. You didn’t even bother to ask, though. Sylus could avoid your questions like he was born to do it, and you were painfully aware of how much he loved to goad you. Better to let the matter rest… for now. 

You crossed your arms over your chest– suddenly acutely aware of the plunging neckline of your dress– and did your best to sound firm. “Well, don’t stop on my account. Go get your drink so I can go back to what I was doing.” 

Those eyes of his were predatory in every sense of the word. You may as well have been naked with how vulnerable you felt on the receiving end of his unrelenting stare. “And leave you all alone here? Perish the thought.” 

Right on cue, you spotted Tara’s familiar head of hair bobbing and weaving through the crowd, both of her arms raised to protect the integrity of the two cocktails she held from the ever shifting sea of bodies. You instantly relaxed at the sight of her, and if Sylus’s raised brow was anything to go by, he noticed your change in demeanor almost immediately. He glanced over his shoulder in time to spot Tara emerging from the throng of bodies, one of the drinks in her hands already outstretched towards you. 

“The wait was crazy, but the bartender was really nice!” She had to shout over the roar of the music, an easygoing smile already playing on her lips. You took the offered beverage from her while she continued, “He gave me his employee discount for both of the drinks. I think he liked–”

You knew the exact moment Tara noticed the six foot two giant towering over you, her brown eyes becoming comically wide as she shifted her weight to look up at Sylus. Recognition flashed across her face, and for a brief moment you felt a genuine surge of panic. But then her expression smoothed out, and she gently patted Sylus’ shoulder in a friendly greeting. 

“You’re Skye, right? It’s been forever! What are you doing here?” 

Skye? You were confused for all of two seconds until you remembered the one and only time Tara had ever met Sylus; at the hotel all those weeks ago during your team building exercise. You thought he had been pretending to be a fruit vendor, up until he let you know that he would order more of the watermelon served there that you loved so much, cluing you in on the fact that he had some kind of dealings with the establishment. The enigma of a man seemed to have his fingers in damn near every pie in Linkon and the N109 Zone. 

Was nowhere safe from his influence? Honestly… 

The conversation between your two acquaintances had continued in the midst of your reminiscing, and Sylus pinned you with a knowing look, which brought yet another scowl to your face. “I’m just passing through. I happened to see Miss Hunter over here looking incredibly lonely, so I decided I’d come and say hello.”

Liar. “I already told you I was here for a girl’s night out. As you can see, the girls are back together and in the middle of something.”

Tara’s glassy eyes lit up as the worst idea imaginable came to mind. “I don’t mind if you want to hang out with us, Skye. You can be one of the girls for the night if you’d like.” 

The giggle that slipped out of Tara spoke volumes of her inebriated state, and you opted to blame all the alcohol for giving her enough courage to invite a borderline stranger into your circle. If she knew the truth about the man standing mere inches away from her, you knew her tone would change in an instant. Thankfully though, Sylus interjected before you got the chance to, seemingly on the same page as you for once. 

“Thank you for the invite, but I can’t linger tonight. You two have your fun, I’ll be at the bar for a bit before I need to head out. The fruit business never sleeps, I’m afraid.”

The ease with which he lied out of his ass was something that needed to be studied by professionals, you were certain. Still, you were grateful that he was taking pity on you and excusing himself, though you had to admit you were… surprised by it. The Sylus you knew wouldn’t turn his nose up at a chance to taunt you and keep you on your toes. Even though he had revealed sides of himself to you that you hadn’t expected, at the end of the day, Sylus was an instigator at his core. 

Red eyes glittering with mirth met yours for the briefest of moments before the Onychinus leader turned on his heel to head for the bar, and the crowd of people that surrounded the three of you seemed to part for him effortlessly. Countless heads turned to watch Sylus as he went, women and men alike staring after him with varying degrees of attraction and envy written across their faces. You could hardly blame them. 

Men more than likely wanted to be him, and women no doubt wanted to be with him. He seemed to have that effect on everyone he crossed paths with. 

“Is there something going on between you two?” 

Your head swiveled back towards Tara so fast, the movement practically gave you whiplash. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

She playfully shoved your shoulder, which only succeeded in pushing herself away from you as she stumbled back a step. No more drinks for her, you thought to yourself. “Oh come on,” she drawled. “The tension between you and him is thick enough to cut with a knife. Plus the way he stares at you? I would melt if I was on the receiving end of those eyes.”

Thoroughly fed up with the conversation already, you simply shook your head and brought your drink to your lips, your eyes unconsciously seeking Sylus out. He was exactly where he said he would be; at the bar with a glass already pinched between his long, lithe fingers. How he had gotten a drink so fast, you didn’t know, and you furrowed your brows in confusion at the same time his gaze zeroed in on you from across the room. He raised his beverage to you and tipped his head forward in a leisurely manner, but you only gave him a nonplussed blink in response before looking away. 

“Exhibit A,” Tara tactfully pointed out when you returned to paying attention to her. “What would be the harm? He’s handsome, he’s got to be smart with all the business deals he’s involved in, he’s polite. He could be good for you if you gave him a chance.” 

“Tara, you have no idea what you’re talking about. He’s–” you cut yourself off, trying and failing to come up with a justification that didn’t out him as the head of a massive crime organization. In the end you settled for, “He’s a complicated guy. Can we just forget about it? Please?” 

“Fine, fine,” she waved off your pleading and took a hearty sip of her drink, motioning for you to do the same. “I’ll let it slide this once, but don’t think for one second that I’m dropping the subject forever. Anyways, do you think the DJ is taking requests?” 

Thankfully it didn’t take you long to fall back into your previously upbeat mood. The steady supply of alcohol and the rancorous thrum of your heartbeat in your ears certainly helped matters, and when the song Tara had requested finally came on over the pounding speakers, you shed the remainder of your inhibitions and downed the rest of your drink to free up your hands and dance wildly. It took a herculean effort not to glance back to the bar to see if Sylus was still perched on the stool in the corner, but your willpower won out in the end as you swayed your hips to the tempo of the dark, seductive music. 

Lost in the sea of bodies around you, your senses were overwhelmed with all the different sights, sounds, and smells that surrounded you. The tang of everyone’s sweat mixed together wasn’t altogether unpleasant, and the sickly sweet taste of the lingering cocktail on your lips had you wetting them as red strobe lights darted overhead. Heat from everyone packed in tight next to one another had sweat dripping down your brow, your chest, your back— so you dexterously gathered your hair in one hand to lift off of your neck to offer some reprieve. 

Tara was a blur in the corner of your eye, but you still knew she was somewhere in front of you. That was how you knew the hand on the nape of your neck wasn’t hers, and the absence of Sylus’ trademark scent told you that it wasn’t him, either. 

Ambushed by an errant hand for the second time in one night, you were quick to spin around and shove the stranger away. It was a man– an unfamiliar one at that– who looked all too put out to have been so harshly rejected within the first five seconds of trying. His hair was so black that underneath the club’s technicolored lights, it looked blue. Pale green eyes were narrowed in confusion at you, though you noticed how he immediately attempted to school his expression once you’d turned around. 

“Hey,” he called over the thrumming base of the music. “Want to dance?”

Suddenly bashful at having been so harsh, you did your best to ease up your defensive stance and allowed for a polite smile to play on your lips while you shook your head. “Thank you, but no thanks. I’m here with my friend.” 

Apparently being nice wasn’t going to work, because the stranger stepped close enough to sling his arms across your and Tara’s shoulders, and with the brief look the two of you shared, you could tell neither one of you was particularly thrilled about it. “The more the merrier! Why don’t you two come over to my booth in the corner? I’m sure my friends would love to meet you.”

Calmly but firmly, you grabbed for the man’s hand to unsling it from around your neck, taking a small step away from him as you reached for Tara. “No thank you, we’re good–”

His hand shot out quickly, and you blamed the alcohol in your system for nullifying your reaction time, because the bastard succeeded in grabbing your forearm to pull you closer once again. His nails dug into your flesh hard enough that you winced, and when you tried pulling back, you felt the telltale sting of skin breaking. “Oh come on,” he crooned, giving you an undiluted nose-full of the stale beer on his breath. “Don’t be such a buzzkill. A couple of beautiful women such as yourselves deserve a night of fun, wouldn’t you say?” 

Tara interjected this time, looking more uncomfortable than you’d ever seen her before. “We’re really fine, please let go–”

A shadow crossed your vision for a moment; large, imposing, and radiating an aura that you could only describe as murderous. Smokey cologne filled your nostrils as Sylus wrenched the man’s hand away from your arm, then picked him up by the scruff of his shirt to glare menacingly into his eyes. Over the blaring music, you had no idea what the green-eyed stranger was saying, but you could make out the sound of him stammering as he clawed at the arm that held him inches off the ground. 

For a minute, you really thought Sylus was going to end the man’s life. Even in the midst of hoisting an adult male off the floor by the fabric of his shirt, he didn’t move a muscle. It didn’t even look like he was struggling. He was eerily still, and when you moved to catch a glimpse of his side profile, there was no missing the white hot stare he had glued to his prey. 

Tentatively, you placed your hand on his shoulder, squeezing softly to get his attention. “Sylus, we’re fine– just put him down, please.” 

Aside from a muscle in his jaw ticking minutely, he gave no indication that he had heard you. You tried again, “Sylus please. People are staring, you’re causing a scene.” 

Truthfully you couldn’t care less about the people in the club watching everything unfold, but you were worried about police being called in and discovering who exactly Sylus was. The thought of him being taken away unnerved you, and even though you knew he could more than likely escape beforehand, you feared for the people that would inevitably be caught in the crossfire. 

Beneath your palm, you felt Sylus’ bicep flex before he roughly dropped the man from his ironclad grip. The stranger, wide-eyed with terror, stumbled when his feet hit the floor, but he didn’t waste any time disappearing into the crowd and vanishing from sight. You sighed with relief, grateful that things hadn’t ended badly, then looked back to the silver haired man. His red eyes were fixed on your arm where the stranger had scratched you; four stark, crescent shaped wounds were etched into your skin. Sylus gently took your hand in his to bring your forearm closer for him to inspect, lightly running his fingers over the wounds, and despite the severity of the situation, you felt your face flushing from the intimacy of the gesture. 

“Come on,” Sylus practically growled, his grip on your hand tightening. “We’re leaving.” 

“I– wait, what?” You tried wrenching your arm free from the imposing man’s vice grip, but it was like pulling at Protocore infused shackles. “Sylus, let me go! What about Tara? I can’t leave her here alone.” 

“Luke and Kieran are already on their way. They’ll take her home.” He didn’t look at you as he half-pulled, half-dragged you through the crowd towards the front doors of the club. It took everything in you not to stumble in your heels and sprawl out on the sticky, tile floor, but something told you that even if you did, Sylus would just haul you up and toss you over his shoulder before you made contact with the ground. When the two of you made it outside, the cool air was like a sobering slap to the face, and you blinked rapidly as Sylus released your hand long enough to open the passenger side door of a sleek, black car parked in the front. He gestured stiffly to the seat, “Get in.” 

The flame of rebellion reserved especially for Sylus and his insufferable brand of arrogance roared to life in a split second. Any gratitude you might have felt towards him dissipated into the air like smoke. Your eyes sharpened into something lethal, and your hands curled into fists at your sides as you stood your ground on the sidewalk– silently daring him to physically move you into the car, because you would sooner go head to head with a den of Wanderers before you let yourself be ordered around by him. 

“No.”  

“What if I asked nicely?” 

“No,” you doubled down firmly, your nails biting into the skin of your palms as you beat back the urge to smack him. 

“Kitten,” Sylus’ voice was a low rumble, but the nickname came out as anything but calm. It held a dangerous edge to it, like something akin to thunder sounding before lightning struck. “Now really isn’t the time to show me your claws. Please, get in the car.” 

“Screw you, Sylus. I already said no. I’ll walk–” 

The familiar, cold tendrils of his Evol snaked around your torso, lashing out too fast for you to track or dodge. There was an almost imperceivable tug against your midsection, and the next thing you knew, you were being haphazardly thrown into the car. Any whiplash the motion would have caused was prevented by the red mist that cradled your head. By the time you realized what had happened, Sylus was shutting the door on you and striding around to the driver’s side, ignoring the wary stares from the people outside waiting to be let into the club. 

“Are you out of your mind?” You snapped as soon as he climbed in, and your blood boiled when he wouldn’t even do you the service of looking at you while you raged. “You’re completely out of line! You don’t get to just decide to kidnap me when I’m out with my friends. Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is?” 

“You’ll get over it,” he muttered, throwing the gear in drive before peeling away from the curb. He spun the car around so quickly that you found yourself leaning uncomfortably against the door, and as he evened out the steering wheel and took off down the street, the erratic motions had you bouncing between the window and the center console. “You might want to buckle up, sweetie.” 

He shot you a sidelong look when you jerked on the seatbelt hard enough for it to lock in place, then snickered when you were forced to be gentler to draw the strap across your lap. “Keep laughing like that and you’ll have to sleep with one eye open tonight,” you muttered, clicking the buckle into place. 

Sylus chuckled softly under his breath, his knuckles blanching white against the steering wheel for a brief moment before he said, “I’m counting on it, kitten.” 

—

Insufferable. Demanding. Egotistical. Infuriatingly charming. Too suave for his own good. All of those terms could be used to describe Sylus, but even then it wasn’t enough. No dictionary in the world had enough words to characterize the man’s personality, and you were positive that if you tried finding one, you would be on the hunt for the rest of your life. 

After arriving at his house in the N109 Zone, you’d bitten his head off for not taking you home. When he had countered with the claim that he’d never specified where he was taking you to begin with, you had thrown your hands in the air and stomped away into the living room, at your wits end for the nth time tonight. He had given you a modicum of space to let you cool off shortly thereafter, until he had reappeared to let you know that Luke and Kieran had dropped Tara off at her house safe and sound. 

That had… helped your mood a little. While Sylus was an exasperating person as a whole, you knew that you could trust him to have your friend delivered home unharmed. Luke and Kieran were reliable too– at least, they were when they weren’t conspiring to get you and their boss into compromising situations.

You had never really forgiven them for setting you up that night you were searching for Sylus’ brooch. If Sylus was the ringmaster of Onychinus, Luke and Kieran were the acrobats bending over backwards to please him. 

“There’s a change of clothes by the bathroom,” Sylus’ gravelly voice sounded from somewhere behind you, but you didn’t bother looking away from the massive bay windows to acknowledge him. “You can go shower if you want. If you’re still adamant about going home afterwards, then I’ll take you.” 

You barked out a humorless laugh, and you saw Sylus narrow his eyes at you in the reflection of the window. “Why so hospitable all of a sudden? You didn’t care about what I wanted when you were hauling me out of the club like a petulant child.” 

“I’m sorry, are we forgetting the part where I got rid of the human scum that was yanking you around like a dog on a leash?” 

You dumbly shook your head, baffled and bewildered that he had justifications ready to dish out after behaving so boorishly. “While I appreciate that you intervened, I had it under control.”

One second he was across the room glaring at the back of your head. The next, he was inches away from you, peering down at you like an ominous shadow with predatory intent plastered all over his face. Sylus swiftly captured your hand in his to reveal the tiny row of scratches on your forearm, his gentle ministrations so at odds with his stormy demeanor. He cocked a brow at you and condescendingly said, “You and I have very different definitions of what ‘under control’ means, kitten.” 

“Whatever,” you muttered, easily withdrawing your arm back to your side. “It’s not like he could have done anything serious. We had people all around us, and security would have come over eventually–”

“For future reference, don’t rely on drunk patrons to protect you. I expected better from a Linkon Hunter. You have no idea what that man wanted with you and your friend.” 

“Oh, and you do?”

“Yes.”

That one word from Sylus made you pause, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, and your face crinkled in confusion as you processed the meaning behind his declaration. “You… Did you use your Evol?”

Not the least bit ashamed at having been caught, Sylus turned away from you to look out the floor to ceiling window. “He may as well have been screaming his desires with how loud his thoughts were. What he wanted was vile,” he stated roughly, “and he would have gotten it whether you were a willing participant or not.” 

The silence that filled the living room was deafening, and you nervously looked down to the floor as you shifted your weight between your feet. To hear the real reason why Sylus had felt the need to intervene… it explained the cold-blooded expression you’d seen on his face. Moreover, you were glad that he hadn’t left like he had said he would. 

Should you apologize? It felt wrong to just ignore the fact that Sylus could very well have saved your life tonight, and Tara’s by extension. He was as stubborn and headstrong as they came, but he wasn’t a monster. He had protected you countless times before now, and despite your brain’s unwillingness to fully agree, you had a sneaking suspicion that the crime lord had a soft spot for you. You’d come to terms with that fact a long time ago. At the very least, you felt like you owed him a sincere apology for being such a brat in the face of his kindness. 

If it could even be called that. 

Your mouth opened so those two little words could slip free and ease the weight that had settled on your shoulders, but Sylus’ finger stopped you. The slender digit pressed against your lips and prevented you from saying anything, and you looked up at him through your lashes as you blinked slowly in confusion. 

“Go clean up. We can talk more after, if you’d like.” 

The softness of his voice coupled with the tenderness of his gaze compelled you to listen. No retorts, no witty one-liners, no arguments formed on your tongue. For the first time since knowing him, you weren’t in the mood to butt heads or deny him. 

So you listened. 

—

He was waiting for you when you finished in the bathroom. 

Maybe it was more appropriate to say that he’d simply retired to his room after waiting for nearly an hour. After all, you were technically using his shower. The gray cotton pajamas that had been left for you on the bathroom counter were soft, thin, and fit like a glove. You had taken a good minute to relish in the comfortable feeling of them before slipping out of the steam filled chamber. 

Sylus was thumbing over the collection of records on the shelf when you emerged, his broad back to you as he thoughtfully debated on which one to play. He made no move to acknowledge your presence, but you already knew he had heard you walk out of the bathroom. He was too perceptive to overlook anyone sneaking up on him. 

Padding over to the bed, you sat down on the edge of the mattress and mulled over the countless different things you could say to him. ‘I’m sorry’ was seemingly the most prudent. There was also the ‘thank you’ route, which wasn’t a bad option considering he had made sure Tara made it home safely in addition to coming to your aide. Part of you even wanted to ask why he cared to go so far out of his way for you when you were merely… well, you. Sure, your paths had intertwined some time ago, and he had helped you out in choppy situations a few times before. But at the end of the day, the two of you couldn’t be more different, and it wasn’t like you’d made it easy for him to get to know you. 

Why did he care to help you? 

You could already hear his possible responses playing in your mind. He would probably say something like “I protect my investments,” or “You have a habit of looking so pitiful, I can’t help myself”. Something that would affirm that you were important to him while still keeping you at arm’s length. This cat and mouse game you had going with him was maddening, and you were starting to lose your grip on what was real and what was a facade. 

“If you think any harder, you’re going to hurt yourself, kitten.” 

Sylus’ voice drew you back into the present moment, and you glanced towards him in time to watch him slide a vinyl case off the shelf before carefully thumbing the packaging open. His captivating red eyes landed on you as he deposited the disk onto the record player, effortlessly dropping the needle down without so much as blinking. An almost bewitching melody filled the room, and then Sylus was setting down the case to walk towards you, his stride slow and purposeful. Stopping a few inches away from you, he delicately picked up a strand of your damp hair to coil around his finger as he raked his eyes over your body. 

The pajamas he’d chosen were definitely meant for hot nights, that was for sure. The soft, gossamer shorts left nearly all of your legs on display. Nevermind the racy neckline of the matching, lace-lined tank top. All in all, you were wearing more skin than you were clothes. 

“I was thinking,” you started to say, tilting your chin up to meet his unyielding stare. “I owe you an apology.” 

One perfectly groomed brow quirked up in response. “Oh?”

“I know I can be stubborn sometimes–” 

“The understatement of the century,” he mused thoughtfully. 

“Shush, I need to say this.” You sighed before pressing on undaunted, your tone hardening, “That being said, I’d be ungrateful if I didn’t acknowledge that I was out of my element tonight. I honestly don’t know if things would have gone the way you said they would, but even so I can see now that I wasn’t in a state of mind to properly protect myself or Tara. Your methods were… unorthodox, but you being there was appreciated, and I’m sorry that I snapped at you.” 

Sylus was quiet for a few seconds, taking in your words with an almost serene expression on his face. His thumb traced over the strand of your hair around his finger, then let it slip away to caress the side of your cheek with his knuckles. Your breathing hitched– startled by the gesture– but you made no move to pull away or stop him. It was rare for you to be able to perceive him so… openly. 

His voice was low, barely a whisper as he murmured, “You never have to thank me for the things I do. Especially not for tonight.” 

The way he grazed your cheekbone with his fingertips before tracing the outline of your jaw had your mouth firmly sealed. If you tried to speak, you already knew your voice would come out pitifully small. It had nothing to do with feeling small, however. The utter longing in Sylus’ gaze coupled with the almost reverent way he touched your face made you feel… important. He was looking at you like you were the only thing he cared about within the four walls, which was saying something when you stopped to consider all the valuables and collectables he kept hidden away in his bedroom. 

But you didn’t stop to think. Not really. Your brain was mercifully silent as you studied his eyes, his posture, his lips. Something had shifted between the two of you, and you didn’t know if you were eager or scared to discover what that meant. Sylus’ thumb slid over your lips, his touch featherlight as well as chill-inducing. The hunger in his eyes was unmistakable as the corner of his mouth twitched up into a half smirk. 

“Let tonight be a lesson to you, kitten; never let your guard down around anyone,” his gaze flickered from your face to your chest, then lazily swept down the rest of your seated form. “Especially not when you’re out for a night on the town looking like the human embodiment of temptation.” 

“Temptation?” You echoed dumbly, and Sylus shook his head to himself as he laughed softly. 

“Don’t tell me you were completely oblivious to how you looked in the middle of the club earlier. I’ll admit, the amount of eyes you had on you made me… twitchy. I should burn that dress to cinders, but then I’d never get to see you in it again.” 

You blinked in surprise, a tingling warmth spreading from your chest all the way down your torso before settling between your legs. “I– you liked it?” 

It should have made you laugh the way Sylus had to bend down so much to put his eyes at the same level as yours, but humor had flown right out the fucking window the second he started caressing your face. His blatant desire burned you, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Red eyes bored into yours, and his face was close enough that you could see the darker shade of red that rimmed his irises. Being so up close and personal with his lips also made thinking difficult, but the one thought you managed to cling onto was how soft they looked, and how much you wanted to feel them against yours. 

This man was quickly becoming your undoing, and you truly didn’t think you had it in you to fight against your baser urges. 

“I liked the dress,” Sylus said huskily, his fingers leaving your face to ghost down the side of your neck. “I liked your heels, and I definitely liked your dancing.” His fingers moved to curl around the back of your neck, pulling you ever so slightly closer to him so that his breath fanned across your cheeks as his eyes eagerly fell to your lips. “Would you be offended if I said I like you?” 

The shallow breath you drew into your lungs was like music to Sylus’ ears, and you felt his hand stiffen against the nape of your neck as he awaited your response. Formulating words was a bit of a challenge, however, seeing as all you could focus on was the unrepentant fantasies that were currently bombarding your brain. You wanted him bad, and the wet heat ravaging your lower body was a testament to that fact. 

“I’m going to need an answer, sweetie,” Sylus purred, all too pleased with the way you seemed to unconsciously move your face closer to his. “Or am I meant to read your mind to find out for myself?”

“I’m not offended,” your response was airy– barely a whisper– but Sylus heard you loud and clear, and he grinned wickedly as his grip on your neck tightened. “I think I like you too.” 

“It’s about time.” 

Those three little words came out roughly, but you hardly got the chance to dwell on the gravelly timbre to Sylus’ voice. His lips were on yours in the next second, stealing your breath and igniting a fire in your veins that threatened to burn you from the inside out. Every one of your senses was overcome with Sylus; his smokey scent, the throaty moan he let slip, the feeling of his fingers burying themselves in your still damp hair. You heard him kick off his shoes without breaking away, and then you felt the mattress dip under his weight as he supported himself over you with one of his knees. Looming above you, you were entirely at his mercy as he used the newfound angle to his advantage, sweeping his tongue along the roof of your mouth as he devoured the minuscule sounds that emanated from you. You cautiously wrapped your significantly smaller hand around his thick wrist, drawing him close enough into your space that you had to lean back on the bed to accommodate his larger frame. 

“The things you do to me,” Sylus rumbled, leaning his head to the side to trail hot, open mouthed kisses down your neck, flicking his tongue against your pulse with a low hum. “So unbelievably perfect. You have no idea what I want to do to you.” 

Emboldened by his praise, you let your hands rest on his narrow waist so your nails could dig into the silky fabric of his dress shirt. “Show me, then,” you replied, turning your head so you could stare up at him as your teeth began to bite at your swollen bottom lip. 

In a flash, Sylus had moved off of you to wedge his arms under your armpits, effortlessly hoisting you off the edge of the bed so he could better toss you towards the mountain of pillows near the headboard. A surprised yelp sounded from you as your ass made contact with the smooth, satin sheets, and you watched blearily as Sylus deftly began undoing the top buttons of his shirt with one hand as his eyes raked over you. “You don’t have any idea what kind of effect you have on me, do you? You drive me crazy and you’re none the wiser to it. Ignorance really is bliss, huh?”

“I–” you didn’t know what to say or where to look, especially once the muscled expanse of his chest started to show itself. “I’m sorry?” 

Chuckling darkly, Sylus finished off the remaining clasps on his shirt and shrugged the attire off, tossing it somewhere near the record player before making his way to the side of the bed. “Actions speak louder than words, kitten. Why don’t you show me just how sorry you are?” His hands gestured towards his belt in an unspoken question, and while it took you a second to figure out what it was that he wanted, you were quick to shuffle towards him to get started once your brain caught up. “So eager to please… I’m impressed.” 

You ignored his teasing to the best of your ability. Cold feet wouldn’t serve you well now– not when every fiber of your being was heated with blatant arousal. The urge to please him, to pleasure him, to drive him to further madness, was overwhelming. Nimble as a cat, you undid his belt and let the metal buckle fall away with a resounding clink. The catch of his pants went next, and you made sure to glance up at him through your lashes as you slowly dragged the zipper down, reveling in the lust-filled gaze he fixed you with. 

Sylus let you do the majority of the work, only deigning to lend you a hand when you struggled to pull his pants down over the swell of his rear. A throaty laugh sounded from above you when your eyes nearly bugged out of your head at the sight of his briefs. The unmistakable outline of his girth was apparent through the dark fabric, and fuck– was he big. 

How the hell was that supposed to fit anywhere inside you? 

“Don’t tell me you’re nervous,” Sylus taunted, his index finger and thumb coming to grip your chin and tilt your head up at him. “Just take it slow. I’ll talk you through it.” 

All his promise did was give you butterflies. You swallowed thickly, nodding as he released you so you could turn back to the task at hand. Almost hesitantly you slipped your fingers under the waistband of his dark undergarments, taking care to let your hands graze the delectable ‘V’ of his lower stomach before you pulled them down and revealed inch after inch of his insane member. You couldn’t help it that your mouth fell open at the sight. 

Sylus’ cock wasn’t just big, it was thick. The sheer weight of it fought against its erect nature and had it drooping menacingly before your parted lips. The shiny, red tip was already oozing pre-cum, causing it to glimmer as it reflected the dim overhead lighting. A sparse collection of darker, neatly trimmed hair surrounded his shaft, and you unconsciously found your nails scraping gently through it before you took him in your hands. Even with both of the appendages working together to grip him, there was still ample space left untouched and exposed, and you licked your lips before glancing up at the silver haired man with expectant eyes. 

Sylus still looked surprisingly put together despite the circumstances, but the way his chest rose and fell quicker than normal spoke volumes of his excitement. His red eyes glittered with anticipation, and one of his large hands carded through your hair before gripping the strands firmly enough to maneuver your cheek directly against his throbbing manhood. He sighed as soon as your skin made contact with it, gently moving you around by your tresses until his tip bumped against your lips. 

“Open,” came his sultry command. 

With nowhere else to go you heeded his instruction and stuck your tongue out, ready and willing for whatever he had planned for you. He let you guide his cock into the warm, inviting prison that was your mouth, and without any further pointers from him, you took him as far as you could before you felt the head bumping the back of your throat. The urge to gag came and went quickly as you hollowed your cheeks around your mouthful, and the ragged sound Sylus let slip conveyed his approval well enough. 

It was a tad difficult to crane your neck back to sneak a glance at him, but from what you could see, he was breathing heavily and looking down at you with wonder. “You’re quite the little minx, aren’t you?” 

You hummed your confirmation, the vibrations from the action making the hand in your hair squeeze tighter around the strands, and the soft curse that emanated from him was like music to your ears. 

“Fuck– slowly now, keep your tongue out and mind your teeth. Tap my leg if you need to stop, alright kitten?” 

Stopping was the absolute last thing you wanted to do, but you dipped your head just enough to let him know you were in agreement. Sylus cupped the underside of your jaw with his free hand while the other stayed firmly rooted in your hair– fully in control of your head from that moment forward– and you allowed for your hands to slip away from the base of his cock so you could brace your palms on his toned thighs. His first few thrusts were meant to test your resolve, seeing as they were shallow and relatively wary. Your jaw stayed slack throughout all of it though, and you even took it upon yourself to tense and untense your tongue as he plunged in and out. 

“Damn,” Sylus groaned as his eyes fell shut, the euphoric sensations prompting him to increase his pace ever so slightly. Your nails scraped against the skin of his thighs as you curled your hands into loose fists, the sordid, wet sounds of your mouth making your face flush with barely there embarrassment. “That’s it, darling. You’re doing great.” 

With his fingers wrapped under your jaw, the placement of his digits allowed you to become acutely aware of the bulge in your throat. Sylus’ cock edged deeper and deeper into your mouth with every pump of his hips, and when a strangled, choking sound finally broke free from your stuffed mouth, Sylus laughed darkly before opening his eyes to turn his attention back to you. 

“I wish you could see yourself right now.” Sylus emphasized the statement with a harsher buck of his hips, the head of his cock sliding past the back of your throat and reaching far enough that you felt it near the top of your esophagus. Your eyes pinched shut as tears welled up within them, then flew open as the man above you withdrew his shaft nearly all the way to give you the chance to breathe. Greedy gulps of air were sucked down immediately, followed by a harsh cough that forced the pooling tears in your eyes to cascade down your cheeks. “You make one hell of a pretty picture, sweetie. I’ll have to keep a camera on hand next time.” 

“C-Can I try?” You rasped out the question as you worked to catch your breath, and the amusement that lit up Sylus’ features was enough to harden your determination. 

He released the underside of your jaw and affectionately brushed a few strands of hair out of your face before dropping his hands entirely. “By all means. Show me what tricks you’ve got up your sleeve, Miss Hunter.” 

You weren’t inexperienced by any means, but the impressive size of Sylus had you reevaluating everything you’d ever learned. A blow job was a blow job, however, and you were certain that your enthusiasm would help cover any blind spots that would no doubt appear. 

Sylus watched with anticipation as you took him back in your hands and smiled up at him, resting the heavy head of his cock between your lips before you pursed them to press a warm, messy kiss to the sensitive tip. The tiny, evil glint in your tear-stained eyes clued him in on just how badly you yearned to make him crumble, and for probably the first time in his life, Sylus couldn’t wait to see someone try to knock him down a peg or two. 

With your eyes still glued to him, you slipped your tongue out and ran it slowly over the slit before curling the muscle around the swollen head with a soft sigh, gently stroking him once, then twice. You twisted your wrist slightly as you opened your mouth again to suck wetly at the pre-cum beading before your eyes, laving your tongue over the head hard enough for Sylus’ eyes to narrow for the briefest of moments. His hands clenched at his side, the insatiable urge to fuck into your mouth again taking over him, but he refrained from interrupting your show through sheer force of will alone. 

You smiled coyly up at him, entirely aware of the larger man’s internal struggle, and slowly slid his cock back into your mouth so your lips sealed right over the head as you sucked. It was wet and messy and noisy, and Sylus couldn’t help the way he twitched forward for more as a string of broken curses fell from his lips. 

Your eyes fluttered shut as you tilted your head to the side to mouth down Sylus’ length, sucking gently and soothing your tongue over the warm flesh as you went, and if the feeling and the sight of you wasn’t enough to leave Sylus a panting, eager mess, the slick sounds of your mouth would fucking do it for him. He kept his hands off but groaned loudly, trying his best to indicate that you should absolutely keep doing exactly that. 

His head fell back between his tense shoulders as he let out a low, rumbling moan, shivering when you curled your tongue around the underside of his cock and breathed a soft chuckle against him. You worked to stroke the parts of him that your lips weren’t worshiping, and the smooth, even touches were made even smoother by the copious amounts of saliva and pre-cum that already soaked his shaft. Sylus’ leg twitched minutely, his knee banging against the side of the bed frame, but all he could feel was your soft lips at the base of his cock followed by an agile twist around the slick head, smearing all the combined moisture around blindingly. He didn’t think it could get any better than that, but once you dipped your head low enough to take the skin of his balls into your mouth and suck delicately, Sylus was fighting to keep his head out of the clouds, because the sensation was absolutely otherworldly. 

“Fuck,” came Sylus’ garbled, gritted voice, his stomach tensing as his hands finally returned to your mussed hair. “Alright, you’ve proven your point, kitten.”

Hardly, you thought. You ignored the high strung edge to his voice and continued your ministrations, wrapping your lips around the head and taking him as deep as you could before you swallowed, and when Sylus choked on a rough gasp in response, you withdrew slowly, using the tip of your tongue to press along the underside of his cock. Sylus desperately wanted to stop you, because the last thing he had anticipated was cutting all the fun short by finishing in your mouth of all places– but then your tongue swirled around the tip again while you stroked every wet, exposed inch– and his fingers tightened around your strands of hair as he fought the urge to shove his cock back into the welcoming embrace of your mouth. 

He didn’t think it was possible for such a tiny thing to have such a dexterous tongue. There was simply no way anything born of this Earth could possibly be this versatile. 

“Enough,” Sylus growled abruptly, willing his brain to supersede his baser urges as he promptly pulled you off of him by your hair. The sting from the motion made you gasp, but the pleasure that came with being so easily manhandled quickly overshadowed the pain, and your hooded eyes drank in the sight of Sylus as you breathed in deeply. 

Red eyes hazy and unfocused, chest rising and falling rapidly, and a pretty flush you’d never seen before sneaking up his neck and spreading across his cheeks and ears. Oh yeah, you thought, he was definitely getting close. 

“Don’t look so smug,” Sylus rumbled, the slight strain in his voice barely noticeable. But you were a Linkon City Hunter, and being perceptive was technically a job requirement, so you absolutely took note of it. You couldn’t help but grin– awfully proud of yourself for riling him up this way– and let go of his cock to brace yourself on your arms as you leaned back. 

“Sorry, I just really liked the face you were making.” 

His eyes narrowed in an unspoken challenge, and before you could so much as blink, his larger body was covering the bulk of yours as he hoisted you back up the mattress so you were leaning against the throne of pillows once again. Red tendrils of his Evol aided him in the removal of your shirt, the lacy attire vanishing from view as he crawled backwards just enough so he could slip his fingers under the waistband of your pajama shorts before he said, “I hope it was worth it, because now it’s my turn to see what kinds of faces you’ll make, sweetie.” 

The effect his words had on you could have honestly been deemed concerning, and the pure bolt of arousal that shot through you when he started to drag your pants off without breaking eye contact was like nothing you had ever felt before. As soon as he had tossed your bottoms to the floor to join his own pile of clothing, he wasted little time in settling between your outstretched legs, wrapping one of his thick forearms over your waist to hold you in place as a devious expression spread across his face. 

“Try to hold still for me,” he breathed out softly. You opened your mouth to reply, but your words got cut off the second one of his fingers slid along your slit and pressed against your clit, wringing a strangled gasp from you as you inadvertently bucked your hips up into his touch. He tutted disapprovingly, “That’s the exact opposite of holding still.” 

“I–” another gasp filled the room as Sylus took to drawing languid circles around the bundle of nerves between your legs, the accumulated moisture there making the action effortless and positively heavenly. It took an insane amount of restraint to keep your hips still despite the blissful torment, your breathing becoming increasingly erratic as Sylus played with you, testing your reactions and pushing your limits as though your body was a new toy he was trying out. Your nails dug into your palms in an attempt to ground yourself, your bottom lip throbbing as you savaged it with your teeth. 

As soon as Sylus’ mouth appeared against your entrance, there was no stopping the unconscious jerk of your hips against his face. His muffled laughter against you didn’t help matters, and you wheezed shakily as you grabbed for a fistful of the sheets with one hand while slapping the other over your mouth. Keening, desperate little moans slipped through your fingers, Sylus’ tongue reducing you to a brainless pile of limbs faster than you could process. The tense muscle probed and swept inside of you while his thumb rubbed maddeningly over your clit, the dual stimulation borderline torturous, and your stifled groan drew Sylus’ attention as he increased the tempo of his tongue. 

The arm draped across your waist extended in the next second, and you felt as the silver haired man grabbed for the hand covering your mouth. You let him pull your arm down to your side, his palm tracing down your heated skin until it reached your own, and then he was intertwining your fingers together to hold the limb there. His lips left your core for the briefest of moments, just long enough for him to murmur breathlessly, “Don’t hide those pretty sounds from me, kitten. I want to hear all of it.” 

It should have been anatomically impossible, but you somehow managed to flush even deeper than before. Sylus kept his eyes on you as he returned to licking and sucking at your soaked center, his pupils blown wide and completely dilated as he worked to tear the most sinful, desperate noises from your scratchy throat. He truly looked like some kind of irresistible sex demon– risen from the depths of Hell to torment you and reduce you to a brainless, twitching mess of a human– and God was he succeeding. You were torn between wanting it all to end with your release and simultaneously wanting it to continue forever. 

The idea of staying here for the rest of eternity was not an unpleasant one. Not in the slightest. 

Sylus’ thumb vanished from your swollen nub, replaced almost immediately by his mouth as he sucked the tender bit of flesh between his lips, and the cry that ripped from your chest was unlike any sound you had ever heard yourself make. Your spine arched clean off the mattress, your hips pressing against Sylus’ face so forcefully that you were certain you had to be suffocating him, but as you tried to writhe away from the overwhelming ecstasy, Sylus clenched your hand tight in his and held you firmly where you were. 

“Fuck– Sylus, please, please,” you babbled mindlessly, the tight, hot feeling in your lower stomach roaring to life as he teased his tongue over the small bit of flesh held firm between his soft lips. “I–I’m gonna come, fuck, I’m gonna come–” 

The euphoric rush within your body was more powerful than any Aether Core. It was dazzling. Your muscles tensed, your mouth fell open, your eyes squeezed shut, and your hips bucked harshly against Sylus’ unrelenting mouth as an orgasm unlike any you had ever experienced washed over you. The sound of your hoarse voice dimly registered in your ears as you came, and you faintly realized that you were screaming– but there was nothing in the world that could interrupt the extraterrestrial experience you were currently living through– so your voice reverberated off the walls of the room until you were wholly and truly out of breath. 

When you finally sagged back into the mattress, Sylus had eased up the intensity of his ministrations, much to his credit. His tongue made one final plunge into your wet walls to lap up the evidence of your pleasure before he pulled away entirely, and all you could do was tremble beneath him as he pushed himself up onto his knees. 

He made no move to release your hand as he crawled over you, instead lifting and pinning the joined appendages beside your head before he dipped down to passionately kiss you. Sylus growled savagely as he swallowed up your pitiful mewling, every tiny sound you made fueling something deep inside of him. Trapped under him with nowhere to go, you were entirely at his mercy as his free hand came to slip under your neck in an attempt to deepen the kiss impossibly further. Sylus forced more of his tongue into your mouth and imbued you with the taste of yourself, humming thoughtfully when he felt your nails dig into the back of his hand, at which point he pulled back to stare down at you.

“I should count myself lucky that I have no neighbors this deep in the N109 Zone. I wouldn’t be surprised if you scared Mephisto off with that scream.” 

“Screw,” you panted harshly in-between the words, “that bird.” 

His hand clenched around the nape of your neck as a wicked smile stretched across his face. “You’re actually screwing me, in case you’ve forgotten. Or is your head still somewhere above the clouds?” 

Leave it to Sylus and his smartassery bring you back down to Earth. “One of these days someone is going to cut out your mocking tongue,” you grumbled under your breath, though there was no genuine animosity in the statement. 

Sylus only laughed, his red eyes twinkling with amusement and pure male satisfaction. “If that someone is you, I think I can rest easy. You seem to like my tongue far too much for that to be a viable threat.” 

“…Touché.” 

His lips resumed their relaxed exploration of yours, bestowing a few quick pecks to the corners of your mouth before he peppered a trail of kisses along your jaw, bumping your head to the side with his own as he went. His warm breath fanned across your sweat-slick skin as he sanguinely said, “I think you’ll like the other parts of me, too.” 

On cue, you felt the hard length of him settle against your thigh as he continued to press his lips against your thundering pulse, your hand coming to grip his firm bicep as arousal buzzed through you. Not a shred of doubt existed within you as you hummed your approval, angling your head to the side to give Sylus more room to lick a broad stripe down the column of your neck. You wanted more, and you were well past the point of pretending you weren’t keenly interested in experiencing everything the leader of Onychinus had to offer. 

In an act of complete and utter depravity, Sylus began rocking his hips against your thigh to rub his cock against your heated skin as he unabashedly groaned into the crook of your neck. You felt his sharp teeth clamp down on the skin above your clavicle before he sucked lightly, laving his tongue over the little bit of flesh he managed to latch on to. The barely there sting was more pleasant than anything, and you sighed contentedly when you felt him move higher to repeat the motion on another patch of unmarred skin. 

A small, needy sound came from deep within your chest when Sylus abandoned his hold on the back of your neck to feel his way down your prone body, your eyes falling shut as you relished in his gentle fondling. You felt his fingers graze over your collarbone, then over the hardened peaks of your breasts, before settling between your legs once again. His touch against your clit was slow and testing, prompting you to lean your head back with a quiet gasp as you rocked your hips into Sylus’ hand. The movement played into Sylus’ steady rocking nicely– your pelvis elevating and sliding against his cock easily– and the low-pitched groan of approval he met you with had you smiling softly to yourself.

When Sylus pushed his finger into you again, you bit your lip at the same time he pulled his mouth off of your neck. You opened your bleary eyes to peer up at him, only to find that he was watching you with a tender sort of reverence. You flushed brightly under his flustering gaze, suddenly incredibly bashful at having him watch you so closely even though his mouth had just been ravaging your most intimate area– but despite that fact, you found yourself angling your face to the side in an attempt to hide your reactions. 

“Oh no,” Sylus uttered, a lone tendril of his Evol snaking out to turn your face back to him. “No hiding, kitten. I don’t intend on missing a single one of the pretty expressions you make.”

As though to punctuate the statement, Sylus curled his finger inside of you up– just enough that he found the spot he’d been searching for– and his efforts pulled a strangled moan from you at the same time your hips jolted against his palm. “Sylus, I– hng–” 

Your pleading was cut short by Sylus adding a second finger before he repeated the motion, taking care to slowly rub the pads of his fingers across that same spot over and over again, evidently drawing immense satisfaction in watching you wriggle and twitch under him. That damnable smirk of his showed itself once more as he pressed into the spot more insistently, his eyes devouring every inch of you as your stomach tensed and your toes curled, a telling warmth bleeding through your chest and coiling its way down between your legs. 

It seemed impossible for any one person to be so good at this. Then again, this was Sylus, and you were fairly positive finding people’s weak points was something of a speciality of his. 

The fact that your weak point was buried knuckle deep inside of you was irrelevant. 

As Sylus continued to rub little circles over your sweet spot, he lowered his head once more to work yet another dark bruise into your skin, silently filing away the mental image of your body tensing and arching beneath him for later. The sight of you alone was enough to leave him breathless, but as nice as the imagery was, what really got to him were the sweet, gorgeous sounds of your voice. Your lips parted around quivering moans, tiny gasps slipping through every now and then, and your stammering pleas filled the quiet air around him and imbued him with a newfound sense of urgency. 

Sylus had always loved the sound of your voice, but hearing what it was like when it was hitched and raspy, repeating his name like a mantra… he knew then that there was no better sound in the world. It would be all too easy for him to become addicted to it– to you. 

As your whines became more urgent, your hips practically riding his fingers as he brought you close to the edge for a second time, Sylus couldn’t help but feel a sense of male pride. He was the one pulling those noises from you. He was the one you were calling out for, the one you were trusting to take you higher, to hold you and kiss you and make you feel good. He was the one making a noisy little wreck of you and branding you like he was born to do it. 

He needed more. Sylus needed to feel you from the inside out, and the way his cock twitched in response to the thought was all the motivation he needed to withdraw his fingers from your soaked heat. 

You were positively wrecked already– gorgeously so– with your eyes glazed and unfocused, your lips parted freely around beautiful moans and brainless praises, breathless whines of Sylus’ name escaping you alongside the rattling breaths you sucked down. He almost hated that he was interrupting when he murmured, “What do you think, sweetie? Think you’re ready for me?” 

Your eyelids fluttered as your brain returned to the present moment, having completely spaced in lieu of Sylus’ never ending finger torture. Scrubbing a hand down your face, you rasped out, “F-Fuck, yeah, I’ve been ready. You’re the masochist drawing this out.” 

Sylus laughed– the sound deep and rich– before pushing himself up and sitting back on his heels, the heavy head of his cock dragging over your impossibly wet entrance as he got settled. He finally let go of your hand to maneuver you exactly where he wanted you, your knees resting on either side of him as he gripped your waist with fiendish strength. 

“It’s not masochism, sweetie,” he purred, sliding his rock hard member up and down your slit to further tease you. “I’m being attentive. There’s a difference.” 

Sylus’ idea of being ‘attentive’ bordered dangerously close to persecution, because you were hanging on by a sliver of a thread after all his prep work. You swallowed thickly and wriggled your hips against his solid manhood, aiming to drive him into action before you lost your mind entirely. “I’ve been spoiled more than enough. If you’re any more attentive, the sun will start peeking through the blinds.” 

“Would that be so bad?” Sylus pressed the blunt head of his cock against your hole, not pressing in yet, but applying enough pressure that your heart rate quickened in your chest. “If I have any say in the matter, we’ll be seeing the sunrise regardless.” 

In one quick, fluid motion, Sylus effortlessly rolled his hips forward and pressed into your fluttering walls, a throaty growl reverberating within his chest as he was overcome with your unbelievable heat. The abrupt intrusion was far from unpleasant, but it was sudden enough that your mouth fell open around loud, stuttering moans, your eyes rolling back in your head as Sylus gingerly worked more of himself into you. Your hands scrambled for purchase against the silky sheets in an effort to compose yourself, and by the time he was sheathed nearly all the way within your core, your patience had evaporated. 

The size of him was insane. You could feel every inch of him, every vein that lined his incredible length, and the way he pulsed against your walls reignited the flame of desire that burned in your blood. 

“Sylus– God– Sylus,” you wheezed, tilting your head back as you forced yourself to relax your muscles. Rocking your hips up in search of stimulation wasn’t enough, not by a long shot. You needed to get fucked through the bed. You needed Sylus to plow you like the fucking world was ending, and the visceral want that coursed through you was so strong that you wanted to cry. 

Sylus groaned your name, the combined effect of you calling for him and the feeling of your absolutely drenched cunt sucking him in deeper making his goddamn head spin. He wanted to be gentle– to let you get acclimated before he went any further– because it wasn’t egotistical for him to acknowledge that he was big compared to you. But when he felt the heel of your foot press against his lower back, silently urging him to move, his reservations dissipated into the night like vapor. He knew what you wanted, and being the thoughtful, quick learner that he was, there was nothing holding him back from giving it to you. 

“No God here, kitten.” Sylus rewarded you with a deep, grinding thrust that left you frantic with hunger. “It’s just me, and you’re being so good for me.”

Before you even had time flush with embarrassment, Sylus gripped your thigh with one of his hands and braced himself over you with the other, then pulled out nearly all the way before ramming his cock back into you. 

Your shrill voice echoed off the walls of the bedroom, and your spine rounded clear off the mattress as you half whined, half screamed in ecstasy. 

Every slam of Sylus’ hips knocked the breath out of your lungs, his powerful, cervix kissing thrusts leaving you winded as you blindly gathered a fistful of satin sheets in your trembling hands. His brutal rhythm never faltered as he pounded into you with inhuman stamina, breathing loud moans of your name while a mix of concentration and pure bliss settled over his stunning features. Lost in the throes of rapture, you could barely find the brainpower to appreciate the sight of him above you, but you sure as hell tried. 

Sylus’ muscles rippled with power as he held himself over you and pumped his hips; his abdomen undulated, his shoulders tensed, and his lower half moved in a way you could only describe as wave-like. It was too much, and yet you couldn’t get enough of it. Every time he would withdraw his cock and leave you nearly empty, another toe curling thrust would follow, the force of his hips connecting against your ass jolting you up the bed until you were bracing your hands on the headboard, pushing back against him desperately. 

Entranced by your attempts, Sylus let you move back against him for a few beats– just enough to appreciate how your ass bounced against his pale hips– until the urge to take you over again completely filled him. He groaned, low and savage, and released his hold on your thigh to slide his hand under the curve of your spine, pressing you against him hard enough that you could barely move at all. Your whimpered protest fell on deaf ears, and Sylus hauled you back down the bed to pin you under him with his upper body in an act of complete possession, and you were almost tempted to pray when you heard his animalistic growl against your ear. 

Sylus leaned his weight onto the hand braced against the mattress before fucking into you harder, faster, his long thrusts switching to deep, hammering ruts that drove the swollen head of his cock against your sweet spot so fast and so precisely that it damn near knocked you out. If you could use words at all anymore, you would have warned Sylus that you were about to come. There was no fucking way you couldn’t– not when you were so full of his cock, your throat raw from sucking him off earlier and from screaming. You were being held down and fucked like you were Sylus’ personal toy, his nails scratching at your back as his hand curled into a fist in his efforts to hold you closer to him. 

“You feel–” Sylus gritted through his teeth, the deep tenor of his voice making you clench around him impossibly further, “–so fucking incredible.” 

All you could manage was a broken stammer, “S-Sylus, I’m– I’m–” 

The soft strands of his hair brushed across your cheek as Sylus’ face loomed directly over yours, and when you blinked up at him with glassy, unfocused eyes, his one command threatened to bring tears to your eyes. 

“Don’t even think about coming.” 

Your noisy, incoherent pleas were ignored as Sylus continued to dominate you. Somehow in the midst of railing you through the bed, he moved his hand away from your back to dexterously maneuver your bent legs up, hooking them over his shoulders before bracing his weight on his forearm, and the result was catastrophic in the best possible way. Every inch of your body was vibrating, the pleasure mounting in your lower stomach driving you to abandon your hold on the sheets so you could rake your nails down Sylus’ shoulders. Fighting against the urge to finish was nigh impossible, your focus shifting to the feeling of his muscles working to fuck you as well as the enticing sound of skin slapping against skin. 

Your vision was blurring. Your legs were quaking so violently that you were surprised Sylus wasn’t shaking along with them. He laughed wickedly as he took in the sight of you beneath him, dragging his free hand down to feel around your body for something. Through the haze of it all, you didn’t realize what he was searching for until you felt his fingers on your clit, and the sound that left your mouth wasn’t one that you’d ever thought you could make. 

He wasn’t just a masochist, he was a fucking sadist. 

Your head snapped back against the bed as you wailed desolately, your begging and pleading reduced to shaky iterations of “Pleasepleaseplease” as the pain from being on edge for so long drove you to madness. Overwhelmed tears streaked down your temples, frustration and desperation and too much fucking pleasure twining together with the sharp ache of holding back. Every one of the sensations that wracked your body pooled into an immense rush of stimulation that had you moaning out a string of incomprehensible curses, until finally Sylus decided to have mercy on you. 

“Eyes on me, kitten. Show me what you look like coming on my cock.” 

He didn’t have to tell you twice. 

Sylus’ finger flicked over your now tender bundle of nerves once, twice, and then the world went white around you. You could dimly register Sylus’ gravely moans as he watched you crumble, his brows pinched with focus as he drank in the sight of your lips parting around a rattling gasp, his rough thrusting never letting up. It was so good– better than anything you had ever imagined– and your body trembled violently as Sylus’ movements became more erratic, but all you could pay any attention to was the blistering heat that flowed through your veins. 

Amidst the exultation of your release, you felt Sylus’ hand return to yours, your fingers interlacing in a contrasting act of tenderness as his thrusts became shallower, his breathing turning heavier. He committed the expression on your face to memory instantly, and it took everything in him to savor every second of your fluttering walls sucking him in deeper before he was coming too– one last powerful thrust finding its mark. Thick, hot release filled you, the added sensation bringing you higher than you thought possible, and Sylus groaned appreciatively as he ground his hips against your ass to milk every last drop into you.  

You were still catching your breath when Sylus finally stilled his movements, his haggard panting reaching you through the distant buzzing that rang in your ears. There was no way for you to know how long the two of you laid there joined from the waist down, but you knew that it took a good chunk of time before either one of you could think clearly enough to form words. Eventually, his soft hands gripped your calves to guide your legs off his shoulders and towards the mattress, the trembling limbs settling there like dead weight. 

Sylus brushed his fingers against your neck to rouse you from your post-coital state, and when you cracked open your heavy lids to peer up at him, his expression was one of relative amusement. “You alright, sweetie?” 

“Mhm.” You hummed your response, and even though your tongue felt like lead in your mouth, you managed to mumble, “I can’t feel my legs.” 

The sudden bark of laughter that burst from Sylus was something you’d never heard before, and you watched as he shook his head to himself before slowly pulling out of you. Part of you missed the feeling of him stretching you the second he was gone, but a bone deep fatigue that was much stronger than your meager feelings was winning the war of what you deemed important. Your eyelids started to slide shut of their own accord, every muscle in your body going lax as you melted into the bed. 

Sylus watched you with a measure of worship, utterly transfixed by everything about you. He gently skimmed his fingers over your stomach as he moved to settle against the pillows, taking exceptional care not to jostle you too much while he got comfortable. You didn’t seem to think similarly, however, because as soon as you felt his weight ease into the mattress, you were throwing your arm over his broad chest and hitching one of your legs over his, effectively straddling him sideways as if he were your own personal body pillow. 

He laughed softly, moving to cradle you close with one arm while his other moved to lovingly brush your hair out of your eyes. Sighing contentedly, you fixed your eyes on the record player across the room, suddenly overcome with a strange sense of fondness for the Onychinus leader. “You know,” you murmured, your voice slightly muffled against his firm chest. “You’re not what I expected, Sylus.” 

“Hm? What exactly were you expecting?” 

The cautious edge to his voice told you that he was prepared to hear the worst, but you surprised him by rolling your head to the side to plant a chaste kiss right above his heart. “It doesn’t matter. I just know that I wish more people were like you.” 

Sylus smiled, letting his head tip back against the headboard while he used his Evol to turn off the lights, plunging the room into comfortable darkness. “Careful, kitten. Keep up the flattery and I won’t take you home in the morning.” 

Your hand traced lazy shapes against his torso, and the corner of your mouth quirked up as you glanced up at him through your lashes. “I don’t work tomorrow… besides, I seem to remember you saying you’d keep me awake long enough to see the sunrise. Or were those just empty words?” 

A devilish grin stretched across his face as he took your hand in his, pulling you to the side until you were made to roll entirely on top of him so you were straddling his hips. His lower half began to rouse back to life as you settled into place in his lap, and Sylus gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger as his lustful gaze bored into your very soul. “I was going to be nice and let you sleep, but if this is the game you want to play, then I’ll hold true to my word. Any objections?” 

Your fingers wrapped around his thick wrist as you brought your face closer to his, your eyes greedily falling to his lips. It should have worried you how addicted to him you already appeared to be, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. Sylus’ cock twitched against you as your gaze rose to meet his, a silent challenge twinkling behind your irises. 

“None at all.” 

“Then it’s a deal.” 

As the night droned on, you came to realize that these were the sorts of promises that you didn’t mind making with him, especially when the sunlight streaming through the curtains hours later conveyed that Sylus had made good on his promise. The break of day didn’t stop him though– not in the slightest. His stamina and vigor remained intact as he dutifully ravished you all through the early hours of the morning, and as you fell apart beneath him once more, the only thing you knew for certain was that it was going to be a long, long weekend.

[scatterbrainedbot]

cass, a professional: order of badass donbot, extra dramatic entrance!

me, nodding, banned from most kitchens: leo drama and angst, heard chef!

(shoutout to @somerandomdudelmao for yet again making feel emotions i cannot fully explain)

[eddiesghxst]

no thoughts just loser!eddie losing his shit when he sees you over at his house for the first time, rifling through his things like any normal friend does.. but you stumble upon a box.under his bed. it’s like slow motion when he walks into his room and sees you open the lid and he nearly drops a glass of water, literally biting his fist in pain, trying to stop you but then you’d only get more curious of what he was hiding.

you. he has polaroids of you except they’re the dirty cum covered kinds. he has your underwear with his stains in it. he has your perfume bottles, your rings (he would totally get hard seeing how tiny they are compared to his, and imagining the dainty stones on the rings on your ring finger like an engagement stone)

it’s like a fucking shrine for you and he thinks he’s gonna pass out as your eyes widen.

but you only turn to him and smile, and his knees weaken. literally almost fainting when you kiss him because you have definitely slept with his sweatshirts, came to the idea of eddie, etc. he’s just such a fucking loser but that night he makes you cum so much you see stars and he’ll have a scrapbooks worth of polaroids (just from that night alone lol)

anyways do you think you could write a lil something based loosely off that? 🫶

BESTIE I MIGHTVE DIED YES. YES YES YES.

also this ended up longer than I'd intended but who cares its pervy!loser!eddie

18+ — MINORS DNI

word count: 1k

————

Eddie’s not sure if he believes this is real. There’s no way this is real, right? There’s no way he has his best friend naked on his bed, covered in sweat and cum— his cum, at that.

He almost thinks it’s all another one of his sick, perverted dreams, but then he’s reminded that none of those dreams have felt this real. None of his dreams have felt this vivid to where he can actually feel the tremble in your hands as you wrap a fist around his wet cock, the shift of the bed as you clumsily scramble to your knees, the lewd and unmistakable shlick sound of your hand fisting his spent cock. It’s never been this vivid— that’s how he knows this isn’t a dream.

You’re blissed out and cock-drunk as you shuffle to lean on all fours, lowering your mouth to suckle on Eddie’s leaking tip. Your toes curl at the sound of Eddie groaning above you, a hand resting on the back of your head to shove himself further down your throat. “Take it all the way in, that’s it— fuck,” Your center throbs at his words, a wet gagging noise emitting from the back of your throat when Eddie’s tip meets the tight space. He curses with a groan, head dropping back for a moment before he looks back down at you with a lazy smirk.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you gag on my dick, sweetheart.”

You whine, your hips grinding back against nothing, the cool breeze of his room sending shivers up your spine when it graces the wet heat of your cunt. Around you, scattered on the bed, are the many polaroids you had just discovered earlier. Snapped photos of you in bed, in the shower, getting dressed in your room; all images that would’ve sent anyone else running for the hills. Eddie was so sure you would never speak to him again when you found that box full of all things you, but to his surprise (and sinful delight), you were just as fucked up as Eddie, if not more.

Eddie’s eyes dart all over the bed; polaroids, lace panties and matching bras, dainty jewelry, lipsticks, and perfume bottles. Eddie Munson was a perverted thief, and it somehow landed him balls deep down your throat. 

He reaches down and picks up a particular Polaroid, one of his favorites; a picture of you laid on your stomach in your bed, one leg hiked up to form a comfortable sleeping position. You’d forgone your sleeping shorts this night, and Eddie took it upon himself to jack off and cover your ass in sticky ropes of his cum, snapping a photo as the white substance dripped down between the folds of your ass to stain your pretty panties (Eddie stole those panties that same night).

He takes the picture and holds it up between two fingers. “So many nights of wasted cum… you’ve got a lot to make up for, sweet girl.” His voice is low and teasing, and you whine against him, nuzzling his cock further down your throat until your nose brushes against the curly hairs surrounding his base.

Eddie’s knuckles are tight against your scalp when he pulls you off his cock, shivering at the wet gasp you take, bleary eyes blinking up at him as your spit drips onto his thighs. “Think you’ve been good enough for it?” He wraps a hand around himself and rubs his throbbing tip against your lips, humming in approval when you open your mouth to offer your tongue. He slaps himself against your tongue a few times, chuckling when you whine and squeeze your thighs together. You can feel the sticky feeling of his cum and your arousal sliding against the insides of your hot thighs, and your eyes roll at the sensation. You lean forward and nuzzle against his cock, “Please, Eds— want it so bad. I’ve been so good, I have.” Your words are nearly slurred; the only thing on your mind is the overwhelming urge you have to feel Eddie’s cum in the back of your throat.

You don’t see Eddie reaching for his camera, too focused on licking your way down to his balls. “Fuck— look at me, sweetheart, give me those pretty eyes.”

You slowly blink up at Eddie, wet lashes fluttering and pouty lips grazing his cock as you gaze at the camera. A flash and a snapping sound echo through the room before a white card come out the bottom, a curse falling from Eddie’s lips as he shakes the paper and tosses it to the side for later. He nods down towards you, “Love on it, baby; show me how much you love my cock.” You don’t wait for another second, licking a thick stripe up his cock, rounding your lips around his tip to suck eagerly. Eddie takes another picture, and you whine.

“Shit, I’m gonna come— keep sucking baby, keep taking me in.”

You shuffle forward, nose brushing against his pelvis once again, and Eddie takes it as permission to secure a hand atop your head and begin fucking himself into the back of your throat. Both of your hands are fisted into the sheets below you, watery eyes gazing up at the blissed-out Eddie above you. His hips falter during the last few thrusts; he doesn’t last much longer. 

“I’m gonna come… don’t swallow, okay?” You nod as best as you can, and without further directions, Eddie’s cum floods your mouth until you nearly choke on it. 

He pulls out of your mouth with a moan, instructing you to open your mouth and show him your tongue, which you immediately obey. He reaches for the camera once more, snapping one picture with you on all fours, gazing up at the camera with your tongue out, white sticky cum coating the inside of your mouth. He takes a second picture, this time with his hand cradling your jaw. The third and last picture he takes is with his hand still cradling your jaw, but his thumb is now pressed against your tongue, smearing his sticky mess across your tastebuds.

And when he tosses the newly printed photos into the pile of new Polaroids, he catches a glimpse of one clear picture of your pussy freshly fucked and covered in his cum. Eddie can’t help it when his cock twitches against his thigh once again.

It’s safe to say that Eddie had to get a new box the next day <3

[eddiethebrave]

secret admirer part twenty

514 words

one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen seventeen eighteen nineteen

After noticing that his head and heart weren’t really in the game a few weeks ago, Steve’s teammates, specifically Tommy, make it their goal of the day to get him excited for tonight’s game during morning practice. It was honestly hell to slip away for long enough to deliver Eddie’s note. 

He hasn’t been this interested in the game for months. For some reason, once he made captain it kind of lost all novelty. Which sucked. 

Steve spent years working toward it. The way his father spoke about getting team captain back in ‘61 made Steve yearn for that kind of companionship. Steve has worked toward that goal his whole school career. His dad was still friends with a couple of the guys from his team back then. 

The thing is, Steve only gets a hint of that feeling with the guys on his team, and that’s only on the court when no one is talking (when the guys aren’t doing what they like to call ‘smack talk’ but is honestly just insulting each other by insinuating that they’re feminine or gay - oh, the horror - which Steve’s never found particularly funny). 

Anyway, the guys weren’t being like that at all today which surprised him, but lit that spark of camaraderie he’s been yearning for. He’d given up before but now Steve is buzzing well through the morning and into Art class. 

He flops into his seat with a smile and Carol narrows her eyes at him. “What’s wrong with your face?” she asks and Robin laughs from her other side. 

Steve only shakes his head. “Nothing, Perkins, just getting ready to obliterate those dickheads on the court tonight.”

Steve hears a light chuckle from his left and turns. 

“What?” he asks Eddie with a small smile. 

Eddie bites his lip to , presumably, keep his amusement in. He shakes his head and Steve watches as his hair brushes over his shoulders as his head moves back and forth. Steve tries not to make it obvious how his gaze lingers. Not to mention how Eddie has his plump bottom lip trapped between his teeth.

“Mm-mm,” Eddie hums in dismissal.

Despite his curiosity, Steve shrugs it off and turns his head toward the front of the room, eyes following a second later. 

The teacher assigns them a charcoal shading worksheet so they can apply the skill to their portraits. By the end of the hour, Steve and Eddie seem to be the only ones in the class with charcoal stains all over their hands. The teacher gives them a disapproving look and points them towards the sink. 

Eddie uses the faucet first. Although it’s only meant for one person at a time, Steve squeezes in next to him and Eddie stiffens next to him as he washes his hands. Steve tries to focus on scrubbing the black stains off and not on the way his arm is pressed up against Eddie’s. 

As soon as his hands can pass as clean, Eddie clears his throat and scurries away. 

Steve sighs and keeps scrubbing until his hands are clean.

tag list (closed)

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@dreamingtheimpossibe @plutoshelm @jaywhohasthegay @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie

@dreamy-jeans137 @justdrugsformethanks @estrellami-1 @travelingtwentysomething @sleepy-steve

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@flustratedcas @ajeff855 @nerdyglassescheeseychick @pearynice @imaginary-maggie-waggie

sorry if i missed anyone!!

[steveshairychest]

At exactly 9pm every night, Steve's upstairs neighbour plays his guitar just as Steve is falling asleep. It wouldn't bother Steve if it was a sweet acoustic guitar, he's sure that sound would lull him to sleep, but it's not. It's an electric guitar that screams into the night for at least 3 hours. Sure, whoever it is, is really fucking good but he's causing Steve to lose sleep and it's been going on for weeks now.

It's the night before his big medical exam that Steve decides enough is enough. He needs some fucking sleep. He doesn't even bother putting a shirt on or changing out of his pyjama pants because he really wants the 40 year old man that no doubt lives above him to know just how sleep deprived he is. Steve thinks about knocking politely but decides to bang his fist on the door instead.

Instead of the bearded old retired rock star Steve was expecting to answer the door, a young dude with crazy curls and pouty lips pulls open the door. He's also wearing pyjamas, so Steve doesn't feel too out of place.

The way the guy openly looks Steve up and down causes him to shuffle awkwardly from foot to foot.

"Can I help you?" He drawls and leans against his door frame. Steve eyes are drawn to the tattoos that cover his arms and legs, and it takes the guy clearing his throat for Steve to remember he came here with a mission, not to oggle his apparently hot upstairs neighbour.

Steve folds his arms across his bare chest, trying to hide himself from the guys burning stare. "Uh, yeah, your guitar is really loud, like crazy loud. You play it at the exact time I go to bed every night. Could you maybe turn it down? I live directly below you." He awkwardly points at the floor and shrugs.

The guy, to Steve's shock, seems genuinely sorry when he pushes off the door frame with a soft frown pulling at his lips. "Shit, really? I'm so sorry, man. I'm used to the noise, so I kind of forget how loud it really is." He pulls a piece of hair in front of his face and then quickly drops it, a look of disbelief taking over his face. "I've been working on this song for weeks! Why didn't you say anything sooner?"

An embarrassed flush creeps onto Steve's cheeks as he rubs the back of his neck. "I thought you were going to be some scary old metalhead, so I kept chickening out." Steve realises how ridiculous that sounds. He should have just come up the first night it happened.

He laughs, and Steve is mesmerised by the way the laugh causes his whole face to light up and his nose to scrunch. He looks so different, so soft. He leans against the door frame again and gestures to himself. "I'm a metalhead. Are you saying I'm not scary?"

Steve snorts. "Your garfield pyjamas are absolutely terrifying."

He glances down at his pants and t-shirt and curses softly under his breath. "I forgot to put my scary pyjamas on."

Steve's face hurts from smiling so much. This isn't how he expected this encounter to go and he's so glad Robin called him and gave him the courage to actually do it. He would never have met the sweet metalhead upstairs if it wasn't for his best friend bribing him with free food in the morning.

Shit, he's got an exam in the morning.

"I've got an exam tomorrow, so I've gotta go. Thanks for being so understanding and not super scary." Steve gives him his best smile and turns to leave, but a hand shoots out to gently stop him. His hand is cold and rough and it takes every ounce of self-restraint not to shiver as he turns back around. "Yes?"

"Would you maybe, uh, like to come to my gig on Saturday? I'm going to play the song that's been keeping you up for the first time." He chews nervously on his bottom lip and hovers in his own doorway, almost like he'll slam the door if Steve reacts negatively to the offer. He grabs something from a small table just inside his door and holds it out to Steve; it's a flyer. "We play at 8."

Steve takes the flyer from his slightly shaky hands and briefly skims it, pretends to think about his answer even though he's already mentally deciding an outfit for the show. "I think I can make it. You have to buy me a drink to make up for all the nights you've kept me awake."

He beams and nods enthusiastically, his hair bouncing. "Yeah, yeah, of course! I'll see you on Saturday then. Oh, I'm Eddie, by the way."

"Steve." They shake hands briefly; the size of Eddie's hands causes Steve's brain to short circuit. This whole interaction has been so surreal. Was Satuday a date? A hangout? Who knows? He's just excited that he'll get to see Eddie again.

"I'll see you on Saturday." Steve says with a shy smile before waving and heading back towards the stairs down to his floor.

"Night, Steve." Eddie calls out.

"Night, Eddie."

For the first time in weeks, the apartment above him is silent when he crawls into bed, but instead of falling asleep like he planned, Steve lies awake trying to figure out what on earth he is going to wear to a metal gig 5 days away.

[kettlefire]

Age is but a Number (DPxDC)

Daniel Fenton was only thirteen months old when he took his first steps. Only fifteen months old when he said his first words. He was two years old when he uttered his first sentence.

Danny could walk back his whole timeline from the moment he opened his eyes into this world. Except, none of those moments counted. They held no true weight for Danny's life.

No, there were certain moments that mattered. That had a clear shift to his life. Not every moment, not every milestone mattered.

Danny was five years old when he first felt the sting of disappointment at his parents missing a school event. He was six years old when the lab door was closed in his face for the first time, but not the last time.

He was eight when his young mind realized who was the one raising him. The one feeding him, waking him up, getting him dressed, and dealing with his tantrums.

Danny was ten when he learned to love and hate his parents for the true first time. Seeing both the good and the bad in them, and still loving them despite it.

He was eleven when he watched his sister crack under the pressure. Stood teary-eyed in the doorframe of her bedroom as he watched her cry and sob. He was twelve when he got into his first real fight with his mother, hiding away at Tucker's place for a few nights.

Danny was fourteen years old when he stepped into his parents' portal. When he accidentally hit the on switch. When a combination of ectoplasm and electricity ruined his life.

He was only fourteen when he experienced death for himself. Felt his life force leave him, and flood him at the same time.

Danny was still only fourteen when his world changed. New powers and abilities appear out of thin air. When a crazed billionaire latched on to him. When Danny had taken the mantel of a hero without meaning to.

He was still just fourteen when his life was filled with constant fighting. Both ghostly and human. Things got more tense between Danny and his mother. School was a weight that Danny wasn't sure he could handle.

Danny was fifteen when he had an existential crisis. The weight of a looming crown he was meant to take on the moment he turned eighteen or died fully. Having witnessed timelines where his family was gone. Having recognized a pattern of repetition in a life that Danny didn't want.

He was still fifteen when he made an impulsive decision. It was stupid and rash. Something expected from an angsty teenage boy, and not from an heir to a throne and a town to protect.

There had been no big fight. No big showdown. His parents still didn't know his secret. Danny hadn't bothered telling Tucker, Sam, or Jazz about his great plan. One moment, Daniel Fenton was in Amity Park. The next moment, he was gone without a trace.

Danny is just a fifteen year old boy, perched on a hill miles away from home. He didn't know what he was doing or what he was going to do. He didn't even know what state he was in.

He had just flown through the sky, a bag of emergency supplies slung over his shoulder. Danny had no intentions of stopping. That was until he stumbled cross a state line, and felt it.

A strong sense of caring and love. A feeling that Danny could only compare to the love he felt from Jazz. There was a strangeness in the air, but also a feeling of home. It drew Danny in like a moth to a flame.

Danny was just fifteen, curled up on a damp hill. Staring up into the night sky, and wishing for things to be different.

Not completely different. He didn't want to get rid of Phantom. Didn't want his life to go back to how it had been. Danny wanted things to get better. He wanted to feel like a kid again, something he realized he hadn't felt in a long time. Despite Jazz's best efforts to shield him.

The first tear had left Danny before he even realized it. A shaking hand wiped the tear away, silently cursing at himself for being such a baby.

Except that wasn't the only tear. It was like a dam, he never knew was there, had broken. Tears streaked down Danny's cheeks faster than he could wipe them away. Choked muffled sounds quickly turned to harsh gasping sobs.

Danny was only fifteen when he finally broke. Curled up on a random hill in a random state in the middle of nowhere. A glowing young teenager whose glow only seemed to dull with each gut-wrenching sob. Yet the stars seemed to twinkle even brighter than ever on this countryside.

So lost in the whirlwind of emotions that Danny was too young to fully decipher, he never noticed the approaching vehicle. Didn't so much as flinch when it came to a stop near him.

Danny's pain radiated with each sound he made. With each tear that left his toxic eyes. There was seemingly no end to it all. Until a single voice managed to pierce through Danny's bubble.

"Oh, dear... It's just a boy. Quick, grab a blanket!"

A small, frail voice was all it took. A voice weathered with age, and a tremble to it. Danny's whole body froze, head lifting to look at the speaker.

Except his vision had been quickly covered for a brief moment as an old flannel blanket was suddenly wrapped around Danny's shoulders. It smelt of dirt, hay, and warmth.

A kind old woman quickly followed to take a seat beside the glowing teenager. A warm, loving smile on her lips as she brought a thermos to Danny. An equally old and warm man seemed to follow behind her.

Danny's sobbing had quieted as quickly as it had started. The teen was completely bewildered, stunned to silence. This old couple, the embodiment of the American dream, didn't so much as blink at the sight a glowing boy crying on their land.

She had called him a boy. She had called him a boy. Danny was just a boy to her. His hands trembled as he accepted the thermos, taking a drink from the still hot coco inside.

Danny's stunned silence must have spoken volumes. The old man had given out a chuckle, moving to stand beside his wife.

"Don't worry, bud. Our son is just as strange as you."

Danny was just fifteen years old when he stumbled onto the Kent farm. When John and Martha Kent stumbled upon a crying glowing boy. When a sweet old couple hadn't cowered in fear but instead embraced Danny. Offering kindness and comfort with no strings attached.

He was only fifteen when he found himself a new home. A new life. One where he didn't have to be anything more than a teenage trying his best. When his powers weren't needed, only appreciated. Never expected.

A life where a warm home-cooked meal and a mother's kiss seemed to greet him every morning and night. Where a father's touch seemed to linger in every tractor lesson, every game of catch, and every time Danny learned more about the farmer lifestyle.

Danny was fifteen when he found his family. When he met the equally kind son of an amazing couple. When he had someone willing to teach him how to handle his powers, but never expected him to.

But Danny was seventeen when his past came back. When a town and people he cared about, all came flooding back in. When the guilt and shame of abandoning them came flooding back in.

When his new picture, perfect life started to crumble around the edges. When he realized life never went well for a Fenton and Fenton-adjacent. The perfect safe bubble had to burst eventual.

And well, that's a story for another day.

[spicyet]

What are you looking for here? Scroll back up.

Just kidding, here’s a treat:

[starry-bi-sky]

miscellaneous danyal al ghul things

specifically about the danyal al ghul from my post/prompt here and i wanna get my misc. headcanons/thoughts on him (especially in his early stay with the fentons) out here before i make any other danyal al ghul aus

list under the cut because whoops this got longer than i expected. which really i should have expected

the Fentons are unaffiliated with the League, which was perfect for Danny faking his death.

he struggles with empathy. Empathy was not taught nor encouraged while he was with the League, so it's a skill that's been pretty stunted. At 15 he's better at empathizing with people, but he still struggles with it. He's pretty bad at reassuring/comforting people and usually acts as an emotional rubber duck for Sam and Tucker to vent to if need be. He sometimes offers blunt and sometimes mean opinions, especially if its about another person.

Sam and Tucker do not know he's an ex-assassin, they are however, pretty positive that he used to be part of an eco-fascist cult with a focus on martial arts?? They've been helping him tone down some of his more,,, extreme views on humanity ever since they caught wind of his more extreme ideologies.

He and Sam are still avid environmentalists and feed into each other quite a bit. They spend plenty of time at protests and pestering the school into more eco-friendly options.

Dash is not dead on the sole fact that Danny knew he had to lay low in Amity Park and killing someone was not, in fact, 'laying low'.

he did, however, traumatize him when Dash first tried to bully him. Safe to say, Danny is not bullied at school and neither are Sam and Tucker.

Danny didn't make any friends in his first year at Amity Park. He was surly, grumpy, standoffish, more stubborn than Sam, and pretty self-important about himself. Jazz was trying to teach him against these things, but she is a 12 year old unaffiliated with the League. Danny did not respect her nor listen to a word she said. It wasn't until like, year two that he finally started paying to mind what she was saying and slowly started to improve on himself

Sam approached him first, he rebuffed her quite harshly, and then Danny approached her sometime afterward when he overheard her talking about environmental rights. Sam completely ignored him though when he agreed with her, and Danny had to later learn that he needed to apologize for being rude to her when they first met. He did so eventually, and they started to talk more with Tucker and Sam.

Danny's a bit more reserved than he is in canon, although he steadily learns how to act as a regular teenager when he's out in public. He's a bit more friendlier at least, although when he's around Sam and Tucker he drops the act. He still has a somewhat formal way of talking, it's just become more casual after a lot of ribbing from Sam and Tucker. When he's angry or annoyed he starts talking poshly though.

His humor is relatively the same as in canon, if somehow dryer and more insulting at some points

Those rare moments where he gets really pissed usually ends up with him insulting someone in arabic or any of the other languages he picked up from the league. He is the go-to for Tucker's Spanish homework. (Tucker makes that mistake and learns that Danny is a very strict teacher)

while Danny doesn't view the Fentons as his parents, even five years after living with them, he does respect them to some amount. He respects them enough at least that when Vlad Masters comes sniffing around, he is suitably offended on both Maddie and Jack's behalf. And when he finds out Vlad was the one who tried to kill Jack and tried to tell him to renounce him as his father/parental guardian, danny threw a suitably sharp object at him and insulted him quite horrendously

Vlad still wants him as his kid. In fact perhaps even moreso after this.

Danny trains with Maddie to keep up with his training. It's not quite the same but it prevents him from getting completely rusty

Sam and Tucker know that Danny has a little brother, but nothing else beyond that other than Danny cares about him quite a lot and that he got his facial scar from keeping him safe.

Danny cares about Sam, Tucker, and Jazz quite a bit, but he struggles to convey it. Especially early on when he realized he cared about them and like instinct started being harsher to them and more critical of their actions. This resulted in quite a few arguments with Sam and Tucker and Jazz until he got sat down and told outright that the way he was treating them wasn't okay. It's a process he's still trying to unlearn even at 15. He has become kinder towards them as a result, and has begun looking for what they did right rather than what they did wrong.

He harbors a lot of guilt over how he treated Damian in the League, and its a pretty big conflict he has with himself since he's torn between telling himself it was for the best to make sure Damian survived the League, and feeling like crap over how harsh/critical of Damian he was and realizing that he probably could have come up with a better way of training him despite being a child himself at the time. Danny comes to the realization that more than anything, that he just wants to apologize.

His ghost form, specifically is outfit, is a combination of his hazmat suit and his uniform from the league, and he carries a sword with him. He also doesn't know how to react to Dani, honestly. Although it is fair to say that he figures out she's a clone instantly because of her whole 'I'm your third cousin once removed' thing and he freaks out. She spills the beans pretty quickly after that. And Danny is pretty skittish around her - or the equivalent of skittish. Her being younger than him kinda reminds him of Damian, so he's uncomfortable by her presence but learns to warm up to her.

[shmreduplication]

I thought it was like a critical and universal moment in my development into adulthood when I realized everyone is Just Some Guy. no one is inherently more special than anyone else and the luck of being born in the right place at the right time can never be overstated

many many many things have happened since my own Just Some Guy revelation that has made it extremely clear that it is not a universal learning moment and has nothing to do with having a fully grown adult brain, it's just a coincidence that I figured it out in my late teenagehood. But the most annoying and ongoing thing is people who hate Harry and Meghan because they talk in a tone of like "how dare this Just Some Guy (Meghan) do this to The Royal Family‽" but it's actually quite easy to understand when you think of it in terms of Just Some Guys doing stuff to Just Some Other Guys. Even easier when you think of it as Just Some Guys doing stuff to Just Some Other Guys Who Think They're More Than Just Some Guys And Think The First Set Of Just Some Guys Are Less Than Themselves

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

it’s only three days late! here’s my entry for @thefreakandthehair's summer fanworks challenge!!

pairing: steddie | word count: 3,677 | rated: M | on AO3: it's a date

“These are the days where I miss when you worked at Scoops.” Eddie complains for the nth time that afternoon.

It’s hot, okay? Immensely so.

It’s so fuckin’ hot that it’s seeping into Family Video despite their normally pretty okay A/C.

He’s laid out across the front counter, one arm hanging loosely over it onto Steve’s side, and the other is holding his hair off his neck best it can.

Of all days to forget a hair tie.

Steve scoffs, “Yeah, you miss it, but that place was hell on my hair and therefore, on my game.”

“I still don’t understand that, who could resist Sailor Steve?” 

“Apparently every person that came in could.” Steve pauses for a moment, “Except moms and grandmas. They all loved me.” he grumbles, leaning back on the far counter along the front window, arms crossed.

Eddie opens his mouth to respond with some sort of smart-alecy quip, but is interrupted by the chime of the bell above the door.

On instinct, Eddie peels his sticky skin from the green linoleum counter and slumps off into the aisles.

The government and Hawkins Police may have completely cleared him as a suspect for the spring break murders, but his presence in town is still not exactly welcome.

So, Steve goes into full-on ‘Prince Charming’ mode when the bombshell of a blonde approaches to ask about something, and Eddie meanders over to the horror section, trying his best to ignore the soupy jealousy in his gut for the girl at the counter, getting to be the center of Steve’s attention like that.

Eventually, she leaves, and from the way Steve’s eyes track the girl out the door and the droop of his shoulders once the door closes behind her, he struck out once again.

“I can’t believe I got to see the Harrington charm in action, live and in person!” Eddie says in imitation of a showman as he approaches the register, “And it failed! Where’s Robin’s board, huh?”

Eddie hefts himself half over the counter in front of him to hang over the other side of it, searching in vain for Robin’s famed ‘You Suck / You Rule’ board.

“Ha ha ha, Munson. You’re hilarious.” Steve pushes Eddie back to the floor with a hand to the face. “And I didn’t fail.”

He shows him a slip of paper with 10 whole digits written on it in a loopy hand, then promptly crumples it tight and tosses it into the nearby trash can.

Eddie somehow manages to keep his face from grinning at the action. ‘Just because he’s tossing her number doesn’t mean you have a chance, asshole.’ his brain tells him.

He puts on a confused face instead, to which Steve shrugs and says, “Not my type.”

Eddie lets out a low whistle. “Well that just sucks for her then. Never see how great a date with the esteemed King Steve would be.” Eddie says, clapping a hand to his chest in a half-swoon, straightening up again while Steve laughs, tacking on a: “Lord knows I’d want to.” in a low mumble. A guy can dream right?

“Would you now?” Steve says, still smiling.

Shit.

“‘Would I now?’ what?” Eddie manages to say before his mouth goes dry, tracking Steve’s movements as the other man steps forward to lean on his forearms next to Eddie at the counter. 

His warm, toned forearm presses along Eddie’s, and he’s only half embarrassed that he doesn’t mind the added heat.

“You want to know how a date with me goes, huh Munson?”

Eddie gulps “Oh…y–yeah, sure; lay it on me Stevie, I’d love t’know.” 

He had managed a facade of a cocky grin by the end of his response, but his throat dries right back up and clenches shut at what Steve says next.

“How about I just take you out tomorrow night and show you,”Steve says, then he’s leaning further into Eddie’s side, and whispering, “Maybe you’ll see how a date with me ends.” into Eddie’s ear.

Eddie slowly rears back to blink at the (beautiful) smiling man beside him.

Oh.

He’s fucking with him.

Of course.

Eddie rolls his eyes and shakes his head with a smirk. “Ha ha you’re really funny. You got all the jokes today huh?”

Steve just chuckles at him.

“I gotta run though,” Eddie says, pushing himself off the counter and heading to the door with a wave over his shoulder “Good luck with the babes, Steve-o!”

“Sure, Eds. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at six?”

He spins to face the counter again, “Oh yeah, sure you will, Big Boy. Sounds like a plan.” he agrees sarcastically, walking backwards out the front door.

Eddie goes through his normal routine the rest of that day and night; scrounge up some food, smoke a little, write out some of his campaign or song ideas, end up falling asleep around 9 am, waking up when Wayne leaves for his shift the next evening and deciding “Meh, might as well shower.’’.

So he does, and has just barely stepped out of the tub when the phone in the hall rings.

“Munson Residence, what’d’ya want?”

“Are you ready?”

“Hmm…ready for what, mysterious caller?” Eddie asks, shifting the phone to his other shoulder so he can continue scrunching the water out of his curls.

“For our date.” the caller (Steve, as he can now tell) says as if it’s obvious. “I’m about to head over so make sure you're ready.”

“Steve? Our date–wha?” he starts, but Steve’s already hung up.

“He can’t be serious..” Eddie looks at the clock. 5:30.

Oh shit.

There’s no time to panic about what to wear, Eddie just goes on instinct. He pulls on his one (1) pair of un-ripped jeans, the one (1) semi-nice button up he owns (both thankfully clean), and has only just managed to finish his eyeliner and put on his rings when he hears a knock from the living room.

Eddie scrabbles down the hall and nearly falls flat on his face when he trips on one of his discarded towels from earlier. He kicks it off his foot while trying to put his still damp hair up in a bun.

He exhales a shaky breath at the door, before finally opening it.

Steve stands there on his doorstep in plain, light wash jeans that look like they were painted on, Eddie’s (now, decidedly) favorite navy blue polo, unbuttoned all the way, and his gray Members Only jacket 

“I didn’t think you were serious.” Eddie says, breathless.

“I know.” Steve grins, passing him a bouquet of roses, “You look great, Eddie.”

Eddie balks at the roses in his hand for a smidge too long, because Steve says, “So are you good? We’ve kinda got a timeline here...”, pointing to his watch.

Eddie feels his eyes widen even more (if that’s even possible), but quickly gets the roses shoved into the tallest glass of water he can, and follows Steve to his car, locking the door behind him.

Steve asks him about his day, and there’s nothing much to tell, but they continue to chat idly as Steve drives them through town.

“I thought you said we had reservations.” Eddie jokes as main street flies by outside the window and morphs into the darkening woods outside Hawkins.

“Never said reservations. Someone just assumed.” he says, looking over at Eddie with a smirk.

“Is that not what ‘We kinda have a timeline’ means?”

“Not always.” he smirks, then immediately follows it with: “Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do, Steve.”

“Good, close your eyes.”

Eddie raises a brow at the other man.

“Please?” Steve chuckles, and Eddie obliges, covering his eyes with his hand for good measure.

He feels the car pull off the smooth asphalt of the main highway, and the motions of their new winding path jostle him softly back and forth.

“And here the lovely people of Hawkins thought I was the ritualistic murdering satanist. You taking me out to the woods to sacrifice me Stevie?”

Eddie can hear Steve’s jacket shift against the leather seat when he shrugs. “We gotta make sure the upside down stays shut somehow.”

“Ah, so I’m this year’s unfortunate virgin?”

Steve’s responding snort of laughter is the best thing Eddie’s ever heard. “Yeah, I seriously doubt you’re a virgin.”

“Hmmm…I dunno Steve, you really think I have people clamoring over each other for a shot at all this?” he gestures down himself with his free hand.

“You know what? I hope not; I’ve been in enough fights already, I don’t think I can take an elbow to the face.”

Okay, of all things Eddie thought might happen tonight, Steve admitting he’d legitimately fight for a chance with him (HIm! Eddie Munson!!) wasn’t on the list.

Eddie doesn’t say anything, just grins down toward his lap, cheeks burning.

The car pulls to a stop then, and Steve says “Keep your eyes closed!” before he can even think about opening them.

Eddie’s seat sags a bit without Steve’s weight on the other end to balance him out. He hears him shuffle out and shut his door behind him, and doesn’t even get to ten whole seconds before his own door is opened.

“Give me your hands, but keep your eyes closed.” Steve says, grabbing both Eddie’s hands in his.

Steve helps him out of the car and leads them forward about 10 paces before pulling him down to sit beside him on something soft.

“Okay, you can open them.”

Eddie’s immediately blinded by the bright orange glow of the sun, just starting to set on the far side of the quarry before them.

“So no, not a restaurant...just didn’t want to miss this.” Steve says, a smile in his voice that pulls Eddie’s attention away from the blooming pinks and oranges of the sky.

Steve’s already smiling at him when he turns, then he gestures down at the blanket under them.

An honest-to-god picnic basket is set between their outstretched legs, a bottle of something leaned up against it. “So. We’ve got grapes, cheese, sandwiches, chips, pop, and even some wine.”

Holy shit. “What, no chocolate covered strawberries?”

Steve holds up a finger, flips open and digs into the bottom of the basket, retrieving a flat white box. He opens it with a “Ta da!”; a dozen chocolate covered strawberries.

“Damn Harrington, you really know how to make your dates feel special.” Eddie’s throat clenches around the words, as if he’s suddenly remembering this isn’t really for him.

“That’s the idea,” he winks

Eddie flushes red immediately, of course, stammering out a “So this is the King Steve Special, huh?”

Steve glances up at him while he unwraps some of the sandwiches. “Nope, this is the Just Steve Special.” He passes Eddie a bologna and mustard, his favorite (What the fuck??) “King Steve wouldn’t have gone to all the trouble. Would’ve just snuck in a window, made out in some random bathroom at a party.” he shrugs and picks up a ham sandwich for himself (Gross..), taking a bite. “Just Steve is trying all the things he probably should have been doing all along.”

“Well..I enjoy Just Steve’s choice of venue.”

“Even though it’s not a fancy restaurant?” There’s a glob of mayo on his lip (which Eddie thinks is‘Still gross, but also somehow super fuckin’ endearing.’)

“If you were at a fancy restaurant, you couldn’t touch the other person as easily.” Eddie proves his point by knocking a knee against the other man’s. “Also you’d have to wear stuffy fancy clothes.” Eddie shudders for emphasis.

“Says the guy who got dressed up in his nice shirt tonight.”

“Shut up… you’re not supposed to know this is my only nice shirt.”

“If that’s your only one, what are you going to wear on future dates?”

"Only need the one shirt." Eddie shrugs. “I wasn’t kidding earlier, Stevie. Breaking news! Local freak doesn’t go on dates regularly.”

“That just sucks for them then.” Steve places his hand over Eddie’s knee, “Never see how great a date with the Eddie Munson would be.”

Eddie’s face feels hot, but he can’t hold back the grin that climbs up his cheeks.

“Well then aren’t you a lucky guy then, huh Stevie?”

“Yeah Eds, I really am.” Steve is smiling back and holy shit, is he leaning closer?

‘Oh fuck, I am too…ShitShitShitHolySh–’

The klaxon alarms ringing in his head stall out immediately, when a firefly decides to light up the shrinking gap between their noses.

“Ah! Fuck!” Steve flails backwards, throwing himself away from the harmless little bug.

Eddie can’t help but laugh, “Oh come on, you can’t really be scared of a little lightning bug?” He cups his hands in front of the bug’s lazy flight path, catching it in one of his palms.

“Fireflies are weird as shit, man. And yes, I do mean even more so than the demo-whatevers.”

“C’mon Steve, just look at him!” He pushes his hand forward into Steve’s space and giggles a bit at his reaction, somehow unwilling to leave their picnic blanket, but wanting to get away from Eddie’s hand just as much has him practically laying all the way down on his back with his legs still crossed in front of him.

“I’m serious Ed, get that thing away from me!”

There's a hint of a laugh in his voice, so Eddie continues his teasing, sitting up on his knees to get closer. “OOOH what if I put it in your haiiirr..”

Steve’s laugh sounds hysterical, “No! Don’t you fuckin’ dare! Asshole!” he yells, batting at Eddie’s hand.

“Awe come on Stevie! What if he loves yo–and he’s gone.” the little guy flying away when Steve’s hand pulls at Eddie’s extended arm.

Eddie flops forwards onto Steve’s stomach with an “oof!” watching the little thing blink away from them.

“Oh thank god.”

He looks down and holy shit.

Steve’s smiling softly up at him, his hair all mussed from Eddie trying to grab at it and Steve keeping Eddie from grabbing it, but goddamn is he still beautiful.

Also: ‘Holy shit I’m laying right on top of him shitshitshitshit..’

Before he can do something stupid, like lean down and kiss the fuck out of Steve’s beautiful face, Eddie rolls onto his back and looks up at the sky instead, head pillowed on Steve’s arm.

They talk for hours like that. Lain out under the darkening sky. It’s the longest date Eddie’s ever been on.

By the time Steve says “I should probably get you home,” the other fireflies that had danced around them as the sun set have disappeared, the previously clear sky is rolling over with thin clouds, blocking the stars.

The strawberries are gone, the cheese is gone, half the sandwiches, and most of the pop. They hadn’t touched the wine.

Eddie sighs in disappointment. “Yeah, probably.”

They pack up the basket, tossing it and the blanket (wrapped around the unopened bottle of wine) into Steve’s trunk and head back to the trailer.

The ride back is a comfortable quiet.

Windows down to the cooling late summer air, Eddie’s hand dipping and diving on the air currents that fly by, radio playing whatever station Robin had left it on last time plays at a low volume..

Too soon, the wheels of Steve’s trusty beemer crunch over the gravel pad that is Eddie’s driveway.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you to the door.” Steve smiles, slipping out the driver side with a hand clasped on the roof.

Just to be a little shit, Eddie doesn’t move. Letting Steve get all the way around the hood of his car before realizing he’s still sitting there.

He stares at him in confusion, so Eddie clarifies. “Oh, I have to get the door myself this time?” he questions, opening the door to another loud laugh from Steve, “You might wanna remember to get the door for your next date, Stevie.”

“Sure Eds, I’ll remember.”

Eddie nods, walking past him and up the steps to the front door with Steve on his heels.

“So? What did you think? How was it?”

Eddie looks up to the ceiling of the porch while he pretends to think about it. “Hmmm…I’m kinda disappointed, actually.” he looks back at his friend, who’s already sporting a kicked-puppy look. “I thought you said I was going to find out how a date with you would end.”

Steve chuckles as Eddie heaves an over-exaggerated, put-upon sigh.

“I said you might, doofus.”

Eddie sighs again, “I didn’t even get a goodnight kiss..” and turns his back to Steve, pulling his keys out of his pocket..

He’s stopped from doing so, however, as Steve hooks a hand above his elbow and pulls Eddie back to him.

His other hand comes up to Eddie’s cheek and Steve leans forward, planting a soft kiss to Eddie’s lips.

Eddie blinks owlishly at him, sputtering as Steve pulls back, eyes blown wide.

So of course this is when he decides to panic. To run.

“So..” Eddie carefully pulls himself free of Streve’s grasp. “Thanks for taking me out tonight.” he manages to say, focusing on keeping his voice even while he turns away to unlock the door.

“Eddie–”

“Any girl would be lucky to go on a date with you.” Damn doorknob always gets jammed.

“Ed–”

“And I would know! I was just on that date, it was great!” Ugh, finally! The knob unlocks with a thick clunk. 

“I don’t want anyone else!”

Everything around them freezes.

Eddie turns slowly to face Steve again. “...What?”

“I don’t want to take anyone else on any more dates! I don’t want the same awkward first date questions, I don’t want the kiss goodnight and that be it, I want something real with someone who knows me. 

“I want you, Eddie.”

Warmth blooms in Eddie’s chest. Hope and affection that’s so damn close to that scary four-letter word already…he pulls Steve in for another kiss without even thinking about it.

Steve kisses him back, soft and slow, before Eddie pulls back enough to whisper “Would you care to see how a date with me usually ends, Stevie?”

Steve doesn’t need to know he’s talking straight outta his ass; Eddie hasn’t had a date that ended at his doorstep like this. No dates at all, in fact, but when Steve gives him a wide-eyed nod, he hauls him inside and down the hall.

Eddie all but throws Steve into his bedroom, slamming the door behind them.

He sidles forward to the perfect being in front of him and places both hands on his shoulders, spinning them both and pushing Steve backwards onto his bed.

“You wanna know what I’d want someone who took me out for a picnic at sunset to do to me?” he asks, already climbing into Steve’s lap.

“Yeah…yeah,” Steve’s voice is all breath, his hands coming up to rest under the hem of his shirt. “Tell me what you want.”

He leans in close to Steve’s ear, his heart clenching when Steve automatically wraps his arms tighter around him, “I want you to fuck me.”

Sex with Steeeeeve Harrington is something Eddie won’t soon forget.

The feeling of Steve’s hands on him, first his waist, his back, his chest…softly caressing his jaw. The feeling of Steve’s lips on his skin, his length sliding against his own, the feeling of fullness from Steve’s fingers, his cock.

The pace he took, one of a lover and not of just another hook-up. Listening to him, checking in with him.

Eddie silently hoped to whatever being out there that this wasn’t going to be something he’d have to subsist on by memory alone. That this was something he could have for a while to come.

Speaking of…

“Ah! Aw fuck—Steve, please..faster…”

“Fuck—yeah? You want it faster, baby?” 

“Yes! Yes, just like that—oohhh fuck me.”

“You got it darling.” Eddie can hear the smirk in Steve’s voice even though he can’t see it; his head thrown back on his own pillow in pleasure. He can feel the muscles in Steve’s thighs move faster, harder, beneath his.

“I’m cu—oh fuck…Steve, I’m—”

“Yeah, yes, fuuuck me too, Eddie—shit—Eddie, Ed——

…die! Eddie!!”

“Wha–What?”

Eddie blinks. 

They’re back at Family Video.

They’re back at Family fucking Video.

“You okay man? You were zoned out for a second.”

“Y-yeah,” Eddie clears his throat of the weird mix of sadness, arousal, anger, and embarrassment in his voice, “I’m good.”

“You sure? I showed you that girl’s number and you like, completely zoned out.” Steve waves the very much not crumbled and tossed little slip of paper around in his hand while he talks.

“Yeah, I’m good. She just looked familiar somehow, I couldn’t figure it out though.” Eddie lies.

He can’t quite make himself look his friend in the eye, so he only sees Steve’s shoulders sag slightly in relief out of the corner of his vision while he picks at a hangnail. 

“I thought you got Vecna’d, dude. Was about to call a code red over the walkie.”

“Nah, I’m all good Stevie, promise. So where are you gonna take her? Maybe a picnic down at the quarry? Could be cool at sunset..”

“Dude, that's a great idea!” Eddie can hear the excited smile in Steve’s voice.

He risks a glance to the other man’s face and feels his insides screw up in shame. The heat that shoots through him at the sight of those kind eyes he just recently saw hovering over his own is too much to handle. Time to make excuses.

Glancing away immediately, he says “You’re welcome man, have fun.” before pushing himself off the counter and, in the strangest case of deja vu ever, heads to the door while waving over his shoulder. “I gotta run though, good luck with the babes, Steve-o!” he calls, cheerily as he can, not able to look back at the man that will never be his.

i hope you enjoyed lex!!! all i have to say is 😈

now with a pt. 2!

[omppupiiras]

a quickkkk rough translation if anyone's interested:

"I put ketchup on almost all foods"

Artist Jere Pöyhönen is not a morning person and he uses the snooze-button, and you shouldn't ask for cleaning tips from him. In his daily life he tries to avoid unnecessary complaining, because at the end of the day things are pretty good.

In the morning when I wake up, I hit the snooze button and keep laying in bed. Sometimes I snooze for 1-2 hours if I'm not in a hurry to get anywhere. I am for sure a night person, so my mornings are slow.

For breakfast I usually eat porridge, to which I add peanut butter and honey, and with it I have a cup of berry tea. Breakfast is something I've tried to get better at, because when you're in a rush it's easy to skip it.

To me it's a luxury to spend relaxed time with my close ones. The best thing is to spend a slow evening with friends, for example a barbeque party. Friends and food - there's no better combo!

I get inspiration for cooking from my mom. Mom likes trying different foods, and everytime I visit I grab a few recipes for my backpocket. Last time I made a chicken and potato casserole dish inspired by my mom.

In my shopping basket you'll often find chili-cheese-sausages and an energy drink. The latter I've tried very hard to consume less. They're not good for your teeth or wallet.

My specialty dish is thai mince meat with rice. For seasoning I use oyster sauce, garlic, sugar, basil and chili. When I was younger I liked to bake a lot, but I stopped when I moved out on my own.

I wish I'd learn to eat more regularly, every few hours. When your job is being on the move, sometimes the times between meals get too long. When you're hungry it's easier to snack on treats, like chocolate and chips.

My normal home evening ends in front of the TV either on the living room couch or in my bedroom. Usually I always watch a tv show or a movie before bed.

My best money saving tip is buy discounted food items at a good price. Then it's handy to immediately put them in the freezer at home and cook later.

I scrimp on bread toppings, like cheeses and cold cuts. I'm not brand loyal with them and usually choose what i grab first.

I get fancy with my glögi, I am its biggest consumer! It's my favorite drink and I have it all year.

My everday superpower is that I don't take things too seriously. Everyday I am grateful for what I get to do for a living, and I don't ever take it for granted. In general I think it's good to avoid complaining too much and try to keep a positive mindset: at the end of the day things are pretty good.

I clean at home about once a week, but I admit, I could be better. I don't spend a lot of time at home, so sometimes my clothes get everywhere and the dishes get piled up in the sink. You shouldn't ask for cleaning tips from me!

My guilty pleasure is squirting ketchup in mince meat soup. It tastes excellent in there. In general I have ketchup with pretty much all foods.

My Pirkka hack is using baking soda to get rid of stains. It's especially great with textiles. With baking soda I've gotten rid of many stains and dirt off of the couch.

[sickwhispers]

THEY LOVE ME, THEY LOVE ME NOT

Pairing: Dandy (toon and twisted) x reader

Relationship: romantic (sorta situationship)

Warning: slightly sadistic, does trying to subtly pressure you into convincing your friends to give him tapes count as manipulation... he's a little toxic

Type: headcanons

He picks favorites

That much is obvious

No matter how many times you try to ignore his shop, his happy little smile stays stuck to his face

And, if you didn't know any better, you would have thought it was permanent

Until you noticed the threats he'd make to your teammates, that is...

But you? You can't remember the last time he's ever threatened you.

A smooth remark here and there, an attempt to persuade you into lending him some of your tapes.

Maybe, if he likes you enough (which he does), he'll have some extra special options for you to choose from

And, because you're just oh so kind, maybe you'll help him convince your other teammates to finally give him the tapes he wants so badly

But, sometimes that isn't enough

Sometimes, you've really got to present an active threat to those who just never seem to get the picture

Now, he loves you, he really does

But...

He also loves the fear on your face once you lay your eyes on his twisted form

The way you stumble back in either shock or fear, and if he had to guess, he would've assumed it was both

The way your eyes widen as he takes just a single step closer

His movement is both experimental and a little playful, testing your reactions and responses

And, if he's lucky and you don't run away before he can get close enough, it doesn't take long before he's kneeling down in front of you

Pat his head, if you would, he enjoys it

There are some slight changes in his behavior when he's like this

Those of which consisting of the sudden need he has to stay by your side

He's always liked your presence, and that much was obvious by the constant conversations he'd try to start with you every chance he got in the elevator

But now, it was almost like he was glued to your side

When he isn't massacring the people around you, that is

He's a clingy little thing (despite how massive his twisted form is in comparison to your stature)

He'd pounce on you if he could, trap you beneath him and keep you there just to nuzzle his head against yours and watch the rush of fear course through every little vain in your body

But, you were too fragile, and he knows better

That never stops him from trying, though

He can be gentle, you both know he can, so he tries

He's too big to fit in your lap like he used to when he wasn't in his twisted form, and although he loves the power it gives him, he'd rather rest against you comfortably without the concern of squishing you like a bug

[devildomditzy]

"Are we going to talk about this?"

You watch as 'your demon' strides across his room, sitting down roughly on his couch and staring straight ahead, unable to look in your direction.

'Your demon". Did you even have the right to call him that? After you've been away for so long?

It's been a week since you and Solomon returned unannounced from your journey to the past, much to the shock and surprise of everyone. That night was filled with joy and tears and laughter from everyone. Everyone, except the second born. The person you absolutely missed the most for months and months, the person you thought of during sleepless nights and difficult times. The person you cried over more than anyone else was standing right there, just a few feet away -

And absolutely giving you the cold shoulder.

He's silent for a moment, before his voice comes out like vitriol, scalding and snide, yet somehow so hollow, like his words had no real emphasis behind them. Like he felt almost nothing.

"What's there left to talk about?"

"Mammon-", you try to get a word in before he cuts you off with the same version of the monologue you've heard from him even since you made your way back to this timeline.

Your timeline.

"Ya left me here. Ya left us here. You didn't leave a note or a sign or even shoot me a text that you were goin'. Nothin'. Nada."

"You know I didn't exactly choose to get taken to the past against my will, Mammon."

He stands to face you now, tone filled with pain but his face looking so, so emotionless.

It could scare you, when he gets like this. The second born should never look that serious.

"And how would I know that? Huh? How would I know where you went? How the hell would I know what ya'd gotten up to, huh? How would I know if you were runnin' off with Solomon? How would I know that ya didn't just get sick of us?"

His voice raises his voice as he walks towards you.

"How would I know if ya were alive, or dead, or somewhere in between, huh!?"

You're jostled as the second born grabs your shoulders and shoves you, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to have you cornered between the surface and himself.

"I never stopped trying, okay? Not a day went by that Solomon and I didn't look for a way home, a way out, a way to you, anything!" you exclaim, defending yourself from his tirade.

"How would I know that you were gonna come back!? How would- H-how could ya, I couldn't...I-I-I- can't...."

His voice shakes as he balls up his fists into the fabric of your shirt, his true emotions finally shining through after a week of trying to get through to him.

How quickly his indifference turns to fear.

Tears begin silently falling from his lash line, streaking his cheeks.

"Oh, Mammon...", you wrap your arms around him, following his lead as his body begins to crumple, both of you sitting on the floor.

"I thought you were gone. I-I didn't know if ya were still breathin', or just vanished, but I thought-"

He gulps down a few tears and lets out a shaky breath before finishing.

"I thought you were never coming back."

You respond to him in kind, holding him tighter as he increases his grasp on you.

You can't help but let out a small giggle as you wipe away his tears (and a few of your own).

"Babe, it's me we're talking about. I came back to the Devildom how many times now?"

"Yeah," he sighs, looking off to the side, remembering all the times you somehow managed to extend your stays within the exchange program with Diavolo's blessing.

"I can't believe you gave up on me that fast", you tease, poking his cheek.

"Never did", he mumbles. "Looked for ya every day until I realized.. ya just weren't here. And not like here like in the Devildom, okay? I mean like here here."

He's quiet for a moment before he grumbles again, "Didn't stop lookin' until Lucifer made me, that bastard."

You bust out laughing, "I missed you, and your cute little complaints"

"Hey! My complaints ain't little! I'd burn down all three realms if it meant I coulda found you again!"

You place a quick kiss to his cheek, giggling at the way he goes rigid.

"Well, you don't have to worry. I'll always find my way back to you."

[cloudycleric]

this is how the motivation is byler endgame. okay so this the theory.

1

the "you have to improve your motivation" is obviously about how mike is depressed & needs to improve his own motivation for coming out. & he's just pulling a will byers right here & projecting his feelings onto el.

2

the local village. guys we need to stop supporting this local village agenda because obviously the party doesnt return to the local village because they've seen too much. want to know why??? because the local village is HOMOPHOBIC. & that's why they don't go back.

3

the beautiful land with the waterfalls. as yonta explained in my chat, water is H^2 O. Yknow what that spells? hoo. not hoe, hoo which is exactly ONE letter off from homo. also three waterfalls? do you know what else has three sides? a triangle. yknow what symbol can represent gay people? a triangle. a PINK triangle. yknow what the heart is? red & pink is a shade of red giuys. mike is the heart, the heart CAN be pink, pink tirangle, triangle three sides, three waterfalls canon. & then el asks if thats possible & mike thinks that she might be on to him so he has to retract about the gay. but dont worry,, we all know what this really means.

[steveshairychest]

It's mermay so I'm having so many thoughts about siren Eddie trying to lure captain Steve off his ship, but he doesn't realise that Steve is deaf.

Steve knows about Eddie; he's had to stop quite a few of his men from jumping overboard to be with the beautiful siren. He spends so many days just leaning on the railing of his ship, gazing down at Eddie with a triumphant smile because he knows Eddie can't affect him, well, with his singing that is. He definitely affects Steve in other ways. Steve nearly toppled overboard just last week because he was too busy watching Eddie twirl a sword he no doubt stole while lounging on a rock, his gorgeous black tail glinting in the sun.

Eddie gives up trying to lure the captain into the sea after a month, but that doesn't mean he stops visiting the ship. He starts getting bolder. He throws stones in the captain's general direction to get his attention before proudly showing off the big fish he caught, only to get a confused sort of laugh from the man. He expected at least a clap or a thumbs up.

One morning, he spies the small boat that is usually hoisted up high on the side of the ship, in the water and he climbs inside, his tail too long so it hangs off the side while he waits. He nearly gives the captain and crew a heart attack when they finally pull it back up and find him lounging in the small boat with a rather large knife and lazy smile.

"I think you dropped this." Eddie grins at the captain, his sharp teeth causing several crew members to step back. He holds out the knife that he saw the man clumsily drop into his waters months ago. He is feeling generous. He'd normally keep treasures like that for himself.

"Thank you." Steve says with a soft smile. The warmth of his fingers shocks Eddie when he gently grabs the knife from his hand.

Eddie watches curiously as Steve turns to one of his crew mates, hands her the knife and then starts talking with his hands, well, that's what Eddie assumes is happening because the girl nods in understanding and rushes off to do whatever the captain said. He turns back to Eddie with a bright smile but Eddie can't stop staring at his hands. What was that?

"My name is Steve. What's your name?" Steve says the words out loud and with his hands, it both confuses and intrigues Eddie.

"Teach me that." He rushes out and points at Steve's hands, completely ignoring the captain's question.

Steve tilts his head in confusion, his brows furrowed and his eyes focused on Eddie's lips. His stare makes Eddie feel squirmy and he curls his lip to reveal sharp teeth to show Steve he doesn't like the attention. The captain doesn't get the memo and just stares harder.

"Talk slower. I can't hear you." He points to his ear and suddenly everything makes sense. Why Steve wasn’t affected by his song, why he didn't hear the crew screaming in the night when they were attacked last week. Eddie had almost been ready to climb aboard to wake the sleeping captain but the girl with the short hair had gone to fetch him just in time.

Eddie grabbed the edge of the small boat he was in and leaned closer to Steve, he was very aware that if the crew let go of the rope he'd go crashing back down to the sea but none of them moved. All their eyes watched the strange exchange between their captain and the siren that had been following them like a shadow.

"Teach me how to talk to you. I want to learn." And he does. Something about this human intrigues him. Why else would he follow him across the sea? If he were anyone else, Eddie would have slit his throat and dragged him down to the depths by now, but this captain is special.

He's decided that Steve will be his and his alone. Eddie always gets what he wants and what he wants is to learn Steve inside and out. Which includes learning this new language.

"OK, I'll teach you." Steve says with a nod.

Eddie smiles triumphantly, his sharp teeth on full display. "Great. Lessons start now." He looks pointedly at the space across from him in the small boat and Steve only hesitates for a moment before awkwardly climbing in.

"Tie it off and get back to work." He yells out to his crew without taking his eyes off Eddie, whose long tail is curled behind Steve. They sit in tense silence, Eddie's long nails tap tap tapping on the side of the boat before Steve sighs and says, "We'll start with the basics."

"Whatever you say, Captain."

The language is hard and Steve often laughs at Eddie when he angrily shakes his hands when he doesn't get the sign right.

But Eddie's determined to get it right because he's now one step closer to getting what he wants, and what he wants is Steve all to himself.