#open world flash game

[themojaveexpress]

Sometimes I remember I bought Dying Light 2 shortly after release, and I had a really good time with it, for the most part. I was like wow, this is actually really fun. Sure it's a bit too shallow for my tastes, but it's fun and has a really pretty post apoc vibe that was taking some obvious inspiration from generic medieval aesthetics which I thought was neat.

And then I finished the tutorial area after about 5 hours, and lost all interest after seeing the actual game map.

[tothearx]

" If you want to leave like a coward, fine. But I'm going back for them ! "

[requiemforthepoets]

overcooked 𖦹 LN4

PAIRINGS: lando norris x female!reader

SUMMARY: play overcooked they said, it’ll be fun they said.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i just can’t help write about the idea lando playing overcooked, so i did. hope you’ll enjoy this! :)

REMINDER: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 1k

WARNINGS: typos and ferrari strategy meme

Lando’s twitch stream was in full swing, and the chat was buzzing as you settled beside him, controller in hand.

“Alright, babe, let’s see how well we work together,” Lando teased, flashing you that signature grin. You rolled your eyes, already sensing that this game of overcooked might be more than what you bargained for.

You both dove into the first level, the kitchen chaos unfolding on the screen as you both tried to chop, cook, and serve orders with as much coordination as two people shared a life, but perhaps not a kitchen.

“Lando, the onions! You missed the onions!” You shouted, pointing at the screen as the virtual kitchen teetered on the brink of disaster.

“Relax, I’ve got this!” Lando replied, but his character was already running into walls, the pot burning on the stove. You could feel the frustration bubbling up, your competitive nature kicking into high gear.

You took charge of the kitchen, barking orders like a seasoned chef, while Lando scrambled to keep up. “Chop the onions faster, Lando!” You yelled as the kitchen timer ticked down. Lando, flustered, accidentally tossed the onions into the trash instead of the pot.

“Oops,” he said, trying to suppress a laugh.

“Oops?” You shot back, incredulous. “Lando, we’re running a restaurant, not a garbage disposal service!” The twitch chat exploded with laughter, and Lando couldn’t help but chuckle as well.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of trying to manage orders, avoid fires, and stop Lando from accidentally throwing perfectly good ingredients into the trash, you both managed to complete the level. The result? Two stars. You stared at the screen, eyes narrowing.

“Unacceptable.” You muttered, “this is unacceptable!” You declared, your voice suddenly dropping into a perfect Gordon Ramsay impression.

“Oh look, baby we got two stars! That’s not bad!” Lando said excitedly as he pointed on the screen.

“Not that bad? Are you kidding me, Lando?” You snapped, fully embodying the spirit of Gordon Ramsay. “We were all over the place! No communcation, no strategy. Honestly, what was that—your best effort? Do you want to serve that to people? Do you?!”

Your sudden intensity caught Lando off guard, but before he could say anything, you were now pacing back and forth in front of him. But before he could say anything, you were off on a tirade, launching into an elaborate explanation of your strategy. You gestured wildly, pointing at the screen, completely absorbed in your monologue.

“Okay, listen. First, you need to stay on your side of the kitchen. I’ll handle the chopping and the prep work—because clearly, you’re incapable of doing both without setting something on fire. We need to streamline the workflow. I’ll chop, you’ll cook, and we both plate. But!” You pointed at him, your expression deadly serious, “no more improvisation. We need to stick to the plan. No more running around like a headless chicken.“

Lando blinked and nodded at you, clearly taken aback by your sudden switch into full-on chef mode. He opened his mouth to respond but then quickly shut it, his eyes darting between you and the camera that was still live streaming every second of your tirade. The chat was exploding with messages, his fans throughly entertained by your unintentional transformation into a culinary dictator, and Lando knows better than to interrupt you when you’re in the zone.

“And another thing,” you continued, pointing to the screen like you were delivering the world’s most important TED talk. “Timing and synchronization is crucial. We need to strategize and work like a well-oiled machine, not a circus act, okay? I handle the chopping, you’ll cook, and we both plate. We’ll divide and conquer!”

The chat exploded, the fans losing it as she continued, hands flying everywhere in wild gestures. Meanwhile, Lando was trying his hardest not to crack up, the corners of his mouth twitching as he watched her go on.

“Babe…baby,” Lando finally managed to interject, struggling to keep a straight face. “You realize we’re live, right?”

You froze, eyes widening as you remembered the twitch stream, the hundred of his fans who had just witnessed your unhinged rant. Slowly, you turned to the camera, a sheepish grin spreading across your face.

“Oh…hi, chat,” you said, your voice suddenly much softer, the intensity draining from your expression. “I’m sorry for that. That was not very demure, very cutesy, and very mindful of me.”

Lando burst out laughing, nearly doubling over as he clutched his stomach. “I think you’ve been watching too much Hell’s Kitchen, love. Gordon Ramsay has become your new personality,” he teased, pulling you back down and sat you on his lap. You groaned, burying your face on his neck, as he put an arm around your waist, but even you couldn’t help laugh at yourself.

“Come on, let’s get you that three stars.” Lando said as he chuckled again. You settled down beside him and gave you a kiss on your temple.

The rest of the stream was just as chaotic as when you both started playing the game, filled with rage, frustration, and hilarious uncoordination. Orders were still missed, pots were still burning, and Lando’s character even managed to fall off the kitchen at one point, but you were both too busy laughing to care. By the end of the game, you hadn’t earned a single three-star rating that you had intentionally wanted, but the stream had been a massive hit, and the chat was flooded with memes of your intense strategy session.

As Lando ended the stream, he leaned over and kissed you on the lips, still chuckling. “We may not be the best team in overcooked, but I think we’re the most entertaining,” he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You rolled your eyes, but a smile played on your lips as you rested your head ok his shoulder. “Yeah, well, next time we’re getting three stars. I don’t care how long it takes.”

“Deal.” lando replied, wrapping an arm around you as you both relaxed, your own competitive sprit finally at peace—for now. “And can I say, it really turned me on when you started yapping.” His eyes wiggling, suggesting something that you knew fully well as you slapped him playfully on the chest.

“Oh shut up you.” You both laughed.

The kitchen might have been a disaster, but at least your relationship had survived the heat—well, barely.

twitter posts

[celestialspritz]

Why Sims 2 has been so broken the last ten years

This is down to my own research, and I'm not saying it is the one and only reason why the game is so broken these days, but I have some points worth mentioning.

So, you're bored one day. You remember this game you had so much fun playing a few years ago, or maybe as a child. It's The Sims 2!

The game has a few issues than from when you last remembered playing, so you search on google for some fixes for the tiny resolution, and among the countless posts you may find, you may find this:

Or this:

(to the creators and players mentioned here this isn't me making a dig at you, i'm just pointing out some cc that could affect the game from working properly. your stuff is all beautiful :D)

Lesya's game is gorgeous!!! Oh, how can I get it to look like that?

So you, with a clean, vanilla (ugly) game you decide to download a few mods she listed, such as:

Skylines by GCKP (you can get optimised ones by me here)

Skies by Lowedeus (you can get optimised ones by me here)

Trees by Criquette (you can get optimised ones here)

No More Blurriness by Voeille (you can get optimised snow only here)

Cool! And then you notice some cheats than can give the game that open-world, interactive feel. Even better!

And you shove them into your folder and you boot up the game. Everything's going great!

Until...

You search hundreds of posts looking for the fix. Some recommend 3rd-party tools, but they seem to make the problem worse. You reinstall, finding you only wasted your time. Something has to be causing this, but you'd never guess it'd be the mods everybody swore by.

Well, in fact, it is. Partly.

I've struggled with pink flashing since 2019, when I reinstalled Sims 2 after I got a decent computer for once. I did everything above, searched for fixes, found Lesya's blog which was my primary inspiration. It was through Lesya's guide that I was able to make my game look pretty!

These mods, which are a staple in the modding community, are beautiful indeed... but what if I told you that the reason they're so beautiful, is because they're high-quality. With textures soaring up to 4k, when, hang on--

In 2004, 4k resolution was... probably unheard of. With the leading monitor size being 1024x768, what would be the point of using such huge textures on an engine that was designed for monitors of at least this size? Would you be able to see the detail of 4k on a monitor of that size? Definitely not.

The max visiting sims, okay, a little hit or miss. If your sims are all wearing high poly alpha CC, then it's a problem. If not, good luck.

Then comes the cheats I mentioned. The lot skirt cheat expands the view distance a significant amount. With the mergenhoodflora cheat, that displays more trees. Combining the two, what do you get?

A massive view distance, blinded by trees.

With skies and skylines with large textures up to 4k, and trees with textures up to 2k, The Sims 2 will collapse. It's like forcing an old man with health conditions to do 20 situps, again and again.

It'll overexert him, by the very least. And you're overexerting the game by cramming custom content that is not optimised for the engine TS2 was built on.

So please, next time you encounter the pink soup, please check your CC folders, and research changes and cheats before you put them into your game. You will enjoy the game much more if you do this, and won't encounter this problem so often.

Don't use Graphics Rules Maker

Instead, opt for a maxis original Graphics Rules uploaded here by Veronavillequiltingbee. It's essentially a rewrite of an old tutorial I made a long time ago.

Once you download the file from VVQB, open DXDIAG by pressing WinKey+R and typing 'dxdiag'.

This value I've underlined is what you need to put after seti textureMemory. Open the sgr file and do CTRL-F and input seti textureMemory.

Add the value from DXDIAG and then save it.

You can use GRM for adding your GPU to the game, but I do not recommend it for anything but that.

Optimising the game... inside the game

*shoves GRM off the table*

We're going to go into TS2 in-game settings for this one.

These settings are optimal if you play CC-heavy households. It will ease the load on your game to make space for the heavy CC you have in your current household. You can tweak these when you want to take photos outside, but for playing I recommend them all to be off - especially at community lots as there are lots of sims there.

I never see anybody talking about Object Hiding.

Object Hiding hides objects from floors that aren't in view. If you're playing downstairs, objects upstairs won't be rendered, thus minimising the load on your game.

I have reflections and smooth edges off because I use ReShade.

Snow on Ground is optional. Sometimes snow can cause pink flashing, I believe it's due to texture replacements that are huge in size too, Voeille's is 2k. I've linked a resized one above.

This post will be updated with later findings. I hope you all found it informative :]

[zhukzucraft]

=====>

As the strange world around you flashes, you close your eyes and open them again to the sun setting on the first day of the new game.

You are back at spawn and you are not alone.

Skizz: Mumbo!!!!

Mumbo: Oh my goodness

Mumbo: Skizz!

Mumbo: It was you!

Skizz: Yep!

Skizz: You and I are joined at the hip now, my guy, so you better get used to it!!

Mumbo: Oh

Mumbo: You-

Mumbo: You really chose to stay with me so fast? I'd barely even finished reading the rules!

Skizz: Yeah, what was there to think about? I knew my buddy wouldn't betray me!

Mumbo: But we're already down to yellow

Mumbo: Because of me

Mumbo: I just...

Mumbo: I don't even know how it happened, honestly, I'm so sor-

Skizz: Hey, who cares about that! You know what's important?

Skizz: You and I are together now!

Skizz: And if we put together that big smart brain of yours and these guns we will be unstoppable!

Mumbo: ah

Mumbo: Right.

=====>

Start Over -- Go Back

[vxnuslogy]

– my proxy.

pairing: wise x gn!reader

premise: belle is currently suffering from an incurable disease of watching her brother play oblivious to your obvious hints of affection. she only prays that you confess soon or at least realize that wise actually feels the same.

– warnings: none

– author's notes: i am so normal about wise. whenever he starts talking in game i just burst into a fit of giggles. filler post for now. | ~700 words.

wise despite his name, wasn’t all that wise when it comes to noticing the very obvious hints you throw at him (or maybe he does know, he just isn’t speaking up about it). but belle does, and it sends her into a fit of giddy giggles that she hides behind her fist whenever it happens.

a fond and amused glint in her eyes whenever wise gets flustered after you call him “my proxy”. it wasn’t anything out of ordinary, wise always calls himself your proxy anyways, but whenever you do it on missions or when you go to hollows to accompany the cunning hares, it never fails to flush his cheeks a pretty pink. belle would let out a snicker and kick his feet from under the table and she’s always met with a warning glare. not once has he mentioned the romantic undertones of your words despite picking up on it himself. 

or the times when you would always drop by their store to hangout in his room. more often than not, when belle comes to check on you both, you’d be fast asleep on his bed with a bangboo in between you two. a devious smirk would always creep up belle’s face when she tip toes into the room and quietly open the cap of a washable marker to write on both of your faces. wise, when he wakes up, would come running down the stairs to chase belle around for writing “[name]’s proxy” in big bold letters on his cheek while you laugh. never once wiping the words of “wise’s hollow raider” with a heart on the cheek opposite to wise’s. 

belle isn’t ignorant nor is wise, but it does frustrate her when her brother doesn’t speak up about his very obvious feelings about you. a sudden feeling of irritation blooming within her chest when she sees your crestfallen expression when wise keeps calling you “just a friend” when general cop or the tin master ask what your relationship is. belle doesn't miss the flash of slight hurt in your eyes before you mask it with an awkward smile and wave of your hand, agreeing with what wise said even though you obviously want to be something more than just a friend.

she’s frustrated with you too. the hours the two of you spend in their workspace, curled up on the couch as you vent out your frustration at wise’s obliviousness. eight out of ten times, belle would just urge you to confess directly, however, you would always go quiet and murmur into the bangboo in your arms that confessing isn’t an option. at first, belle was rightfully confused. she saw how you looked at wise; you looked at him as if he hung the sun and moon himself. he was your entire world and you had him putty in your hands with just two words. it wasn’t until the day after when belle finally realizes –when nicole has her arms wrapped around your waist and an angry flush on her face when you enter their store battered and bruised, but still smiling– that this was a first for you too. 

before becoming a regular client, you would recklessly jump into hollows without a carrot or a proxy. barely making it out alive if nicole hadn’t found you and made you a member of her little band of misfits. you were enamored with wise when he first patched you up. you didn’t have anyone before him that cared enough to lecture you about danger, your recklessness, and bad habits. he was probably the first person that genuinely showed concern for you so belle understood for a moment why you didn’t want to confess. she’s watched enough romance movies and read books and comics to know that confessing has its risks. your friendship that you painstakingly built with her brother brick by brick would come crumbling down if you said those three words.

“my dearest proxies,” you barreled into their store front with a bright grin. belle doesn’t miss the twinkle in wise’s eyes when he sees you. “let’s go out for lunch. my treat!”

“what’s the occasion?” wise asks, putting down the boxes of videotapes on the counter to give you his undiverted attention.

your grin reached your eyes as you waved a piece of parchment in front of them both. “it’s paycheck day! and what better way than to treat my proxies to lunch for taking such good care of me.”

“count me in!” belle merrily jogs towards you and gives you a high five.

“what do you say wise?” belle flashed her brother with a knowing look. the boy only shook his head and started leading the two of you out the store.

“well, how can i say no to free food?”

wise stole a laugh from your lungs as you tangled your arms with them both. “that’s my proxy. now let’s go!”

belle never misses the way wise’s cheeks flush whenever you intertwine your arms together; it was as easy as breathing for you. she just hopes that one day you’ll see for yourself that wise also feels the same, he’s just clueless and a little shy to show it unlike you.

© vxnuslogy 2024. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my knowledge or consent in other platforms or websites.

[kizzer55555]

DP x DC: The Most Dangerous Card Game

Ok so Danny has essentially claimed earth as his. And he is fully aware that there are constant threats to the planet. Now he can’t stop a threat that originates on earth (that’s something he’ll leave to the Justice league) but he can do something about outside threats. Doing some research on ancient spells, rituals, and artifacts, he cast a world wide barrier on the planet to protect it from hostile threats so they cannot enter. This will prevent another Pariah Dark incident. However, barriers like this come at a price. You see, there are two ways to make a barrier. Either make one powered up by your own energy and power (which would be constantly draining) or set up a barrier with rules. The way magic works is that nothing can be absolutely indestructible. It must have a weakness. The most powerful barriers weren’t the ones reinforced with layer after layer of protective charms and buffed up with power. Those could eventually be destroyed either by being overpowered, wearing them down, or by cutting off the original power source. No, the most powerful barriers were the ones with a deliberate weakness. A barrier indestructible except for one spot. A cage that can only be opened from the outside. Or that can only be passed with a key or by solving a riddle. So Danny chooses this type of barrier and does the necessary ritual and pours in enough power to make it. And he adds his condition for anyone to enter. 

Now the Justice league? Find out about the barrier when Trigon attempts to attack, they were preparing after he threatened what he would do once he got to earth. How he would destroy them. The Justice league tried to take the fight to him first but were utterly destroyed, so they retreated home to tend to their injuries, and fortify earth for one. Last. Stand. Only when Trigon makes his big entrance…he’s stopped.

The Justice league watch in awe as this thin see-through barrier with beautiful green swirls and speckled white lights like stars apears blocking Trigon and his army’s advance. The barrier looks so thin and fragile yet no matter how hard the warlord hits, none of his attacks can get through and neither can he damage said barrier. That’s when Constantine and Zatanna recognizes what this barrier is. Something only a powerful entity could create. For a moment, the league is filled with hope that Trigon can’t get through yet Constantine also explains that it’s not impenetrable. And clearly Trigon knows this too for he calls out a challenge. 

And that’s when, in a flash of light, a tiny glowing teenager appears. He looked absolutly minuscule compared to Trigon and yet practically glowed with power (this isn’t a King Danny AU though).

And that is when the conditions for passing the barrier are revealed. And the Justice realize that the only thing stopping Trigon and his army from decimating earth. The only way he can get through….is by beating this glowing teenager in a card game. 

Not just any card game though. The most convoluted game Sam, Danny, and Tucker invented themselves. It’s like the infinite realms version of magic the gathering, combined with Pokémon, and chess. And Danny is the master. So sit down Trigon and let’s play.

(The most intense card game of the Justice league’s life).

After Danny wins, this happens a few more times with outer word beings and possibly even demons attempting to invade earth, yet none have been able to beat the mysterious teenager in a card game. Constantine might even take a crack at it and try to figure out how to play. He’s really bad though. Every time this happens, the Justice league worry that this might be the time the teenager looses. Yet every time, he wins (even if only barely). 

Meanwhile, Danny, Sam, and Tucker have gotten addicted to the game and play it almost daily. Some teachers might seem them playing the game are are like ‘awww how cute’ not realizing this game is literally saving the world. Jazz is just happy they aren’t spending as much time on their screens playing Doomed.

[lcvemiyuki]

“when they get jealous” | hq

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓊝 ࿐𓂃𓂃𓂃

content: haikyuu boys x reader, when they get jealous over someone else

warnings: disgustingly cute, kenma x reader + tsukishima x reader are established relationships, fem!reader, osamu x reader (y/n is perceived as shorter than osamu)

characters: kenma, tsukishima, osamu

a/n: more! bc these also have been stuck in my head... (not proofread sorry!)

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Kozume Kenma

'he would get distracted to the point of jeopardizing a game'

It was a weekend afternoon, and Kenma had carved out some precious time to play solos in the gaming room. His specialty was first-person shooter games, and he stayed absolutely silent to focus; a pin drop could be heard from how quiet it was. Only the sounds of his game controller clicking resonated softly in the soundproof room.

You two shared the room, with back-to-back monitors and a personalized setup on each side. Occasionally, you would enter and play a game or two, leaving when you knew he had a stream scheduled.

Today was one of those quiet days, with Kenma fully immersed in his game. His noise-canceling headphones ensured nothing but the game’s audio reached his ears.

You entered the room, aware of his headphones, and left rabbit-cut apple slices next to his keyboard. The colors from his monitor illuminated the slices, casting a soft glow on them as his slender fingers worked like a well-oiled machine.

As you moved, your figure momentarily blocked his sight, and he glimpsed you holding a phone to your ear, a smile plastered on your face as you talked. Kenma's eyes lingered on you for a few seconds before his monitor demanded his attention again. Usually, you would make some sort of light contact to remind him you were there, a gentle touch or a pat on the shoulder.

But this time, you didn’t.

Instead, you turned to your side and plopped down on the plush chair, fully engrossed in your conversation. Kenma wasn't overly nosy, but he couldn’t help but peek out from the side of his monitor to observe you.

‘Who has your attention?’ he wondered.

Knowing he couldn't keep glancing your way without compromising his game, Kenma adjusted his headphones so that only one side covered his ear, leaving the other exposed to the outside world.

Kenma's focus split in half; he tried to concentrate on his game, yet every time he heard your wholehearted laugh, his eyes darted to you instantly. Your joy was infectious, and it pulled at his curiosity with an unfamiliar force.

“Tomorrow? Yeah, that sounds great!” Your voice rang out, clear and cheerful. Kenma's brows furrowed as he strained to make out more of your conversation. His concentration slowly dissipated, the multiple noises becoming a chaotic blend in his mind.

“I can’t wait to see you!” Your exclamation, followed by another giggle, broke his focus entirely. He turned his head fully for just two seconds, enough time for his character on screen to be targeted and shot.

The screen flashed red with ‘GAME OVER’ in bold letters.

Kenma's eyes did a double take as the realization hit—he had gotten distracted a bit too long.

He never lost a game—ever.

He yanked the headphones off, letting them hang around his neck as he leaned back in his chair. A long sigh heaved out, his worn-out hands finding their way behind his head as his legs spread apart for a more comfortable position.

“Okay, I’ll talk to you later, bro. Tell Mom I can’t wait to see you guys!” Now free from his game’s immersive audio, Kenma heard you loud and clear. His eyes squeezed shut, feeling a twinge of annoyance at himself for getting so distracted.

That really cost him a game—yet he couldn't help but feel his heart rate slow down after realizing you were just talking to your brother.

Lost in his thoughts, Kenma didn’t hear you approach until he felt the soft, slightly wet touch of your lips pecking his. His eyes slowly fluttered open to find you staring down at him with a confused look.

“You lost, Kozu?” Your eyes now drifted to his monitor.

He could only softly scoff at himself, a mix of embarrassment and amusement in his tone. “Yeah, I guess I did.” His lips pursed together, noting the twinge of sweetness they tasted.

He would never tell you the real reason, though.

𓇼𓆉𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆉𓇼

Kei Tsukishima

'his smile looks indifferent, yet his eyes shot daggers'

The sound of someone’s cough echoed through the museum as you and Tsukishima passed through another grand exhibit. The exhibits grew slightly crowded at times, prompting you to lightly grasp the edge of his coat, careful not to fully grab him. His strides were slightly faster than yours granted his slight eagerness. Tsukishima turned his head, peering down at your hand clutching his clothes.

“Is this your way of trying to keep up?” His light eyebrows raised slightly in amusement before he reached back, taking hold of your hand to guide you instead.

“Excuse me!” a slightly loud voice echoed in the room, causing you to close your mouth before you could respond. You turned to face the source of the shout, only to find a young man staring right at you.

Tsukishima halted with you, turning his head around with a hint of annoyance at whoever was shouting.

“Do people not know when to lower their voices?” he muttered, his voice laced with irritation. As he was about to finish his sentence, he noticed the man making his way toward you specifically. Tsukishima didn’t miss the way the man’s eyes were solely focused on you.

Turning his attention to you, Tsukishima also noticed how your squinting eyes suddenly morphed into one of pure surprise.

“Y/N? Is that really you!?” the man exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement.

As the man launched into an animated recount of his recent adventures, Tsukishima stood by, feeling a pang of irritation.

Soon enough, a few others caught up to your classmate. Tsukishima couldn't miss the way it took them a few seconds to avert their eyes or the eager way they held out their hands to shake yours.

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes, ‘How shameless.’

“This is my—” you began to introduce Tsukki, but he beat you to it, turning fully to face the group. “I’m the boyfriend.” His smile was anything but genuine.

His tone might have been friendly, but you could tell Tsukki was irritated.

Quickly realizing he might be upset about the abrupt interruption of your date, you hastily said your goodbyes to your old high school friend.

“Aw, c’mon Y/N, how about a reunion selfie before we let you go?” your old classmate nudged, pointing at the phone he was holding.

You awkwardly laughed, trying to think of a way to politely decline. But before you could say no, you felt a gentle but firm pressure on the small of your back, guiding you forward. You turned to see Tsukishima's long fingers splayed out against your back, his touch insistent. The action caused you to straighten up in response, feeling the solid reassurance of his hand.

You quickly took the selfie with your old classmate, offering a polite smile for the camera. Before you could say another brief goodbye, you noticed the three guys in the back all staring in your direction, only to quickly avert their gaze to some random object in the building.

Curious about what had caught their attention, you turned your head to follow their line of sight. Your heart began to race as you saw the reason for their sudden shift in focus.

Tsukishima, now several meters away, was turned slightly to the side, but his eyes were locked onto the guy next to you. His usual could-care-less demeanor was replaced with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. Tsukishima's glare was menacing as if silently placing a bounty on his head. His hands were comfortably placed in his pockets; his black glasses failed to mask the daggers he shot their way.

There was no mistaking it—he was jealous, and not just mildly so.

You quickly excused yourself, murmuring a final goodbye to your old classmate. You made your way over to Tsukishima, your steps quickening with each passing second.

As you reached him, you hesitated for a moment before gently placing a hand on his arm. His eyes flicked to yours, then quickly shifted away, focusing on anything but you.

“Tsukki,” you said softly, “Sorry that took so long.”

“Whatever,” he muttered, his tone begrudgingly agreeing.

“Were their stares bothering you?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light.

Tsukishima’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“They were just...annoying,” he said, his voice clipped. “Like, read the room.”

A mischievous smirk played on your face as you interlocked your hand with his. “Is that why you were death-staring them like they were your sworn enemies?”

“Obviously. Anyone would with how noisy they were,” he replied, trying to sound indifferent.

He would never admit to it, but you could read him all too well.

𓇼𓆉𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆉𓇼

Miya Osamu

'wouldn't care if a purchase or two gets put on the line'

One day, Atsumu, his doting twin brother, waltzes into the semi-busy shop with open arms.

“Take a whiff, boys—the infamous Miya blood mixes with success,” he says smugly.

Osamu doesn't even welcome them once he sees who it is—he simply deadpans and shoves the curtains to go in the back.

With a bright smile that reaches your eyes, you quickly greet the customers. The two unfamiliar gentlemen behind Atsumu had a muscular and tall build—likely hungry athletes in need of rewarding food.

‘Time to sell the whole shop,’ you think with determination.

Although you weren’t an official employee at Onigiri Miya, you wanted to help Osamu as much as you could. That included selling his delicious food to hungry customers.

You devise a quick game plan and target the first tall guy, hastily approaching him. His eyebrows are furrowed slightly as he examines the menu, trying to decide what to eat.

“Hi there! If you’re looking for something delicious, you can’t go wrong with our classic tuna mayo onigiri,” you suggest cheerfully, your enthusiasm catching his attention.

The tall guy’s face lights up at your recommendation. “That sounds perfect, thanks!” he says, his serious expression softening.

Just as you’re about to show him another flavor, Osamu suddenly walks directly between you and the customer, almost bumping into you. “You should try the natto,” he says, grabbing a natto onigiri from the display, his tone a bit sharper than usual.

The customer looks a bit taken aback, clearly put off by the sudden change. “Uh, I’m not sure about natto…” he says hesitantly.

You frown slightly, trying to salvage the situation. “Well, we have plenty of other options too—how about the umeboshi?” you suggest, stepping around Osamu to point at another onigiri.

Osamu, however, doesn’t move, effectively blocking your view. “Natto’s a specialty here. You should give it a shot,” he insists, practically shoving the onigiri into the customer’s hand, his eyes darting briefly to you and then back to the customer.

The customer looks uncomfortable, but Atsumu, ever the opportunist, steps in with a grin. “Look at ya, ‘Samu. Can’t stand to see Y/N sellin’ your onigiri to my pal, huh?” he teases, clearly enjoying the situation.

Osamu’s scowl deepens as he grabs an onigiri from the counter. “Shut up, ‘Tsumu,” he mutters before stuffing the onigiri into his brother’s mouth, effectively muffling his cackle.

Atsumu’s eyes widen in surprise, slightly coughing from practically choking on a rice ball.

Trying to pretend the twins weren’t going at it, mouthing silent threats to each other on each side of you two, you try to make a pitch once again.

“I hope you try out all, but it’s up to you!” you quickly put all three into the man’s hands and in doing so, your hand encloses them and gives it a slight pat.

The shuffling stops as you feel two holes being burned into the back of your head.

You could hear a soft chuckle as Osamu's large hands suddenly and slightly encircled your neck from behind. His weight leaned lightly against you as he crouched down a bit to join the conversation.

"Y/N's putting in quite the effort to sell you these, man. I'd say take them and enjoy," he remarked, his face close enough to yours that you could almost feel his breath against your ear.

With a subtle maneuver, you sidestep out of his grasp and guide the customer towards the register; the mess the very owner put you through just to sell these damn onigiris. You mentally roll your eyes as Atsumu continues to tease Osamu in the background.

As soon as the trio of athletes bid the shop goodbye, the door chiming softly behind them, your attention soon fell on Osamu.

You could feel a slight tension in the atmosphere, the remnants of the earlier exchange still hanging in the air. Osamu stood behind the counter, his back turned to you as he methodically rearranged the onigiri displays. His movements were precise, almost mechanical as if he were trying to distract himself from the task at hand.

"Why the face, Y/N?" Osamu feigned confusion as he went around the stalls to continue his organizing.

You stood by the register with your arms crossed, eyebrows raised in amused disbelief. "Oh, really," you began, "I mean, I get Atsumu—you guys always go at it—but that guy was just like any other customer, 'Samu."

Osamu paused in his task, his expression shifting into a thoughtful gaze as if pondering something. His fingers tapped absentmindedly on the counter before he finally met your gaze. "Yeah, but there's always something more to it," he said cryptically, a faint smile playing on his lips.

You tilted your head, intrigued by his response. "More to what?"

He chuckled softly, a glint of something indescribable in his eyes. "More to everything," he replied enigmatically, leaving you with a curious smile as he continued to work around the shop. His words lingered in the air.

𓇼𓆉𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆉𓇼

want more?

⤷ masterlist.

[pin-k-ink]

trespass // sakusa kiyoomi

tw ⇢ non-con, somnophilia, unprotected sex, creampie, grinding, public sex, implied voyeurism, getting caught, minor manga spoilers, sakusa is lowkey delulu

wc ⇢ 2.5k

a/n: this was heavily inspired by a mista fic i read

Sakusa's skin crawled as he stared at the bus, a sense of dread rising in his throat. The vehicle loomed before him, its doors open like the maw of some great beast waiting to swallow him whole. Inside, two full teams from Itachiyama awaited, their bodies packed together in a claustrophobic nightmare due to a last-minute transportation issue.

As he stepped onto the bus, Sakusa's mind reeled at the thought of being trapped in such close quarters with so many people, each one a potential vector for illness. He had always prized his personal space, a carefully maintained barrier against the chaos of the outside world. Now, that barrier was about to be breached.

He should've just taken the train to their away games without batting an eye. Perhaps it was because he didn't want to be crammed into another vehicle with strangers, which seemed slightly worse than getting on a bus with people he actually knew. Or maybe a tiny part of him felt uneasy about leaving you, his precious little manager, in a bus full of hormonal and sweaty teenage boys.

Sakusa had sucked it up and gotten up extra early to secure a spot in the back of the bus, already claiming the corner seat as his own. By sunrise, the bus was filled to capacity, the vehicle swaying precariously from side to side. He was sure that the tires were probably inflated to their limits, ready to burst at any moment.

As the rest of the team filed in, Sakusa curled into himself, but you were nowhere to be seen. Were you not coming? Or were you sensible enough to find another way there instead of willingly entering this lion's den?

No, apparently not. You were just as reckless as always. Sakusa jolted slightly in his seat as you suddenly emerged from between two burly basketball players, yelping softly as the imbalance in your overloaded duffel bag caused you to stumble and fall.

Iizuna, ever the attentive captain, quickly helped you to your feet. He dusted you off and checked for any injuries, keeping you close by his side, practically nestled between his legs as everyone finally settled into their seats. It was going to be a long six-hour ride, and there was no way anyone would be left standing, no matter how cramped it got.

Iizuna glanced apologetically at Sakusa as he asked you to sit next to him, closer to the window. But upon realizing there was no space, Iizuna suggested you sit on his lap instead. In a flash, Sakusa reached out and pulled you in, his hands almost aggressively wrapping around your waist as he tugged you onto his own lap, leaving a dumbfounded Iizuna and the other third years staring in shock.

Beside him, Komori snickered, watching in amusement as you awkwardly adjusted yourself on Sakusa's lap, apologizing profusely as if you had committed some grave offense. Sakusa offered no verbal reassurance, instead silently guiding you to sit more comfortably between his legs as he spread them slightly to accommodate you.

Just as Sakusa was about to ask if you were comfortable, the bus lurched forward and began moving. At that moment, he heard the familiar chime of an incoming text message.

Pulling out his phone, Sakusa saw that Komori had sent him a single line: "Make a move on her."

Rolling his eyes, Sakusa shot his cousin a pointed glare before pocketing his phone again. Of course Komori would be aware of his not-so-subtle crush on their manager. After all, you were the only person aside from Komori that Sakusa allowed to touch him freely. He had even permitted you to feed him once, using the very same chopsticks you had just eaten with yourself.

Sakusa's mind wandered to the time he had gotten injured during practice. The team nurse had already gone home for the day, but luckily, you had the knowledge to tend to his type of injury. He vividly remembered how you looked kneeling between his legs, gently hiking up his shorts to press your fingers against the taut, sinewy muscles of his inner thigh.

He had felt his breath catch as you unknowingly leaned in closer, your exhales ghosting over his sensitive skin. Sakusa had to forcibly banish the less-than-pure thoughts from his mind, knowing that any physical reaction would be glaringly obvious given your proximity.

All the moments he had spent alone with you were precious to him. He treasured each and every one, locking them safely away in his heart. So of course he wanted to make a move, to let you know how much you meant to him.

But as he looked down at your peaceful, sleeping face, Sakusa had to stifle a sigh. Somehow, you had already dozed off, a cute habit of yours whenever you were in a moving vehicle with hours to go before reaching your destination. It was adorable, but at this particular moment, rather frustrating.

Gently tugging his mask down to rest below his nose, Sakusa leaned closer and protectively wrapped his arms around your middle. He held you securely against his chest, ensuring you wouldn't slip off as the bus jostled along the highway. Burying his nose in your hair, he breathed in deeply, the soft scent of lavender from your shampoo flooding his senses and awakening a primal urge deep within him.

Almost unconsciously, Sakusa's hands tightened their grip on you as he nuzzled further into your silky locks. His fingertips skimmed teasingly along the hem of your shirt, dancing just underneath the edge of your jacket. He knew that with the slightest movement, he could brush against the bare skin of your stomach.

The thought alone sent a thrill down his spine. Sakusa couldn't help but wonder if your skin was as soft and smooth as it looked. It had to be. Throwing caution to the wind, he finally slipped his fingers beneath the fabric, grazing them ever so lightly over the warm, supple flesh of your belly.

You shivered slightly in your sleep, your stomach dipping at the barest touch. So you were ticklish. That knowledge made Sakusa's heart swell with adoration. Fuck, could you be any cuter?

Emboldened, Sakusa continued to gently rub your lower abdomen, reveling in the velvety softness. As you relaxed further into his embrace, a hum of contentment rumbled deep in his chest.

Tightening his thighs on either side of you, Sakusa held you firmly in place, determined to savor this fleeting moment of intimacy. His fingers ceased their exploration, now simply brushing lazy circles over the enticing curves of your hips.

As the bus rolled on, Sakusa let himself get lost in the feeling of you in his arms. He knew he should probably feel guilty for indulging in this intimate touch without your knowledge, but the temptation was too great to resist. He had waited so long for a chance like this, to feel your softness under his hands, to breathe in your scent until it filled his lungs.

He promised himself that this stolen moment would be the catalyst he needed to finally confess his feelings for you. He would do it right, court you properly until you understood the depth of his affection. But for now, he would allow himself this one transgression, this fleeting glimpse of what could be.

As he held you close, your gentle exhales tickling his collarbone, Sakusa let himself dream of a future where you were his. His to hold, his to cherish, his to love. And with that sweet fantasy playing behind his closed eyelids, he drifted off to sleep, your name a whispered prayer on his lips.

The glaring sun pierced through the window beside him, rousing Sakusa from his slumber. Sweat drenched his body, causing his shirt to cling uncomfortably to his skin. A soft groan of annoyance escaped his lips as he registered the weight on his lap, only for his eyes to flutter open and realize it was you. With a gentle sigh, Sakusa attempted to adjust your position, but a sudden, muffled moan slipped out as he became acutely aware that something was terribly amiss.

Sakusa froze, his heart pounding frantically against his ribcage as the realization dawned on him - the incessant vibrations of the bus, combined with your warm, pliant body pressed intimately against his lap, had coaxed his treacherous body to stir in a most inconvenient manner.

Sakusa's breath caught in his throat, a heated flush creeping up his neck as he desperately willed his body to behave. The last thing he needed was for you to wake up and feel his shameful arousal pressing insistently against your ass.

Clenching his jaw, Sakusa tried to focus on anything else - the passing scenery, the low hum of the engine, the quiet chatter of his teammates. But every subtle shift of your weight, every gentle exhale that tickled his skin, only served to further stoke the embers of his desire.

He cursed silently, his fingers digging into your hips as he fought to maintain control. It was torture of the sweetest kind, having you so close, yet being unable to act on his longing. Sakusa knew he should wake you, put some distance between your bodies before the situation escalated, but a selfish part of him wanted to bask in your warmth just a little longer.

As if sensing his internal struggle, you stirred slightly, your head lolling to the side to rest in the crook of his neck. Your lips brushed against his heated skin, eliciting a shuddering gasp from Sakusa. He bit back a groan, his resolve crumbling with each passing second.

Sakusa swallowed thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing against the shell of your ear. He couldn't take it anymore, his cock throbbing painfully in the confines of his pants. If he didn't do something soon, he was going to lose his mind.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Sakusa reluctantly untangled his fingers from your hips. He hesitated for a moment, steeling himself before carefully sliding his hand over your clothed pussy.

Sakusa's breath hitched as his fingers brushed over the damp material, his eyes widening in shock. Was this... for him?

Heat coursed through his veins, his head swimming with lust as he dared to apply a little more pressure. The lewd sound of his fingers dragging against your slick panties elicited a choked whimper from him, his cock twitching impatiently beneath you.

Sakusa couldn't believe what he was doing.

Touching you like this, even if you were asleep, was completely unacceptable. He should stop while he still could.

But when his fingers found your clit, circling the bundle of nerves with agonizing precision, you arched into him, your ass grinding down on his cock and sending sparks of pleasure coursing through his veins.

With a low growl, Sakusa tightened his hold on you, his other hand fumbling to reach his zipper. The metal teeth gave way easily, allowing him to tug the stiff material down, his leaking cock finally springing free.

A shuddering sigh of relief escaped his lips, the cool air of the bus doing little to quell the heat raging within him. He was painfully hard, the head of his cock already leaking precum.

With one final glance at your blissful, sleeping face, Sakusa lifted his hips, nudging his cock against your panty-clad core. His pulse was racing, his breaths coming in short, ragged pants as he teased the soaked fabric.

Unable to resist any longer, Sakusa pushed the soaked panties aside, the swollen head of his cock rubbing tortuously against your aching clit. You moaned softly, arching into him, your body instinctively seeking the pleasure he was so willing to give.

His chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath, the anticipation almost unbearable.

Sakusa's cock throbbed insistently, his hips rocking slowly against your dripping cunt. The need to bury himself inside you, to feel your velvety walls clenching around him, was almost overwhelming.

He was so close, the tip of his cock poised at your entrance, ready to claim you as his. Just one push and he would be sheathed inside you, buried to the hilt. All he had to do was thrust his hips and you would finally be his.

The bus jerked, throwing you back against him, his cock sliding into your soaked cunt, and Sakusa groaned, his eyes rolling back as he felt your warm walls flutter around him. Fuck, you felt better than he had ever imagined.

With a shaky exhale, he sank deeper into your heat, his cock throbbing as you stretched to accommodate him. You felt like heaven, and Sakusa couldn't stop himself from thrusting his hips, his cock sliding in and out of your tight pussy.

Sakusa knew he should be gentle, take his time and savor every delicious inch of you. But the overwhelming desire to claim you, to mark you as his, overpowered any sense of restraint he may have had.

His grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he rutted into you, his cock massaging your aching cunt.

The air was thick with the heady scent of your arousal, the soft, subtle sound of your slick pussy being stretched by his cock filling the space between your bodies.

Sakusa's head fell back against the seat, his jaw clenched as he fucked into you, the coil of pleasure tightening in his gut. He was close, his balls tightening as he felt his orgasm rapidly approaching.

Just as he was about to pull out, his cock twitching with the promise of release, you came with a soft moan, your walls clamping down on him. With a strangled cry, Sakusa buried his face in your neck, his cock pulsing as he spilled himself inside you, painting your walls with his cum.

As the last waves of his orgasm washed over him, Sakusa let out a satisfied sigh, his body slumping against yours. You were still asleep, your soft breaths tickling his skin, and Sakusa couldn't help but smile, his heart swelling with affection.

He knew it was wrong, taking advantage of you like this. But the feeling of euphoria that came from being inside you, knowing that he had claimed you as his own, was worth any guilt that may come later.

As he basked in the afterglow of his release, Sakusa vowed to confess his feelings once he returned home. No matter what, he would make sure you were his, and his alone.

Sakusa's phone chimed again, abruptly pulling him from his reverie. Glancing down, he saw a new message from Komori: "That is not what I meant by making a move." Confused, Sakusa quirked an eyebrow and turned to his side, only to be met with Komori's appalled expression, though that did nothing to deter him from noticing the very prominent hard-on his cousin was sporting.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Platonic yandere shigaraki HCS with a younger sister who's the daughter of AFO? (Since he's readers adopted older brother since AFO adopted shigaraki)

Yandere Older Brother Shigaraki Tomura

“This is the little sibling I was telling you about. Would you like to hold them?”

“But my quirk–!”

“Not this time. Trust me.”

It was hard not to pull his cradled arms away when AFO unswaddled and slowly lowered the baby down

Visions of his past 

His quirk’s awakening flashed violent through his mind 

Tightly shutting his eyes in fear 

he feels the warmth and substantial weight in his arms

Opening his eyes to see a darling little baby cooing at him

Giving a gummy smile when he lets out a little chuckle in disbelief

“This is (Y/n). You’re little sibling.”

“My little-?”

“Yes. Will you protect them?

“YES!”

From then on it was history

It’s been him and his newfound family against the world 

Even with his old notfamily he wasn’t the oldest

And now you’re immune to his power letting him connect with you in a way he just can’t with others

All that being said he’s a doting big brother

“(Y/n). Are you giving the nanny trouble?”

“Psh! It was only a mud pie!”

“Really? That doesn’t sound so bad.” 

“They threw it in my face!!”

“It was meant for the pillow! Honest!”

“If (Y/n) said it was meant for the pillow then it was meant for the pillow I see no problem here.”

Because AFO is AFO the way you’re raised will really dictate how he watches over you

If he’s not the only one doting on you but your father dearest as well you can expect to always be miles away from the action

Kept in the boonies or shipped across the world

If AFO demands it you will see no such thing as a world he doesn’t create

But if you’re just another tool of his then you both will start to get competitive

“Awww heard about the little incident in Kamino! Heard you couldn’t get the job done!” “And I heard about your little excursion with the American division.”

“Pft! it was more so just a distraction.”

“Oh yeah? Is your enemy weakened and out of the game for good?”

“Grrrr.”

“That’s what I thought little Padawan!”

“Grrr shut up!”

If AFO completely ignores you and keeps you only because Tomura wants it 

Or because you have too many features like your late uncle

He’s dealing with a rebellious little sibling that he’s intent on tracking down

Whether you’ve decided to side with the heroes or strike out on your own

He will make it everyone’s problem that you’re not in his custody

“You seem to forget (Y/n) that as your older brother, I’m going to protect you…whether you like it or not.”

In whichever universe you are the apple of his eye

And he refuses to let you leave it

Whatever plan AFO has for him can wait if it doesn’t mean you safely within his grasp

[kooyabooya]

GAMBIT

m reader x tzuyu // 9k words

The thing about risk takers, you see, is the fact that you tell them to stop multiple times - and they never do. 

At every turn of the hands on the clock, here lies Chou Tzuyu, in her most casual form imaginable. One leg on the other with an arm outward to the head of the couch cushions. She’s got her face at this inquisitive angle; pure innocence, slant lips nearing a sly grin while she’s put through an earful from her manager: 

“You’re on your last set of legs, and I hope to god that this story doesn’t break out in the ringers of the press come tomorrow morning.” 

Nothing could scrounge up the loss of professionalism, draining away from the slips in the shut door frame. Because the challenges become more complicated than the other, and this one might just be the tip of the iceberg. 

“Well then,” Tzuyu starts, and in typical Tzuyu fashion: sweetly and unbothered. “Let’s just have our fingers crossed that no one around here is willing to leak that out to the public.” 

Tzuyu’s manager glances towards your direction, matching the same eyebrow with theirs in pure confusion as to what this conversation was boiling down to. You almost feel bad, but fortunate enough to not be stuck in their position. Dealing with Tzuyu’s bullshit on a day to day basis, growing a gloomy shade in their hair that shouldn’t be there for another twenty to thirty years; luckily, that hasn’t happened to you, at least not yet. 

In the years of service that you’ve had with the agency, you’ve had the fair pleasure in confiding with different individuals amongst the growing industry, to different waves of success. Sana? A world beater that has cameras flashing everywhere she goes. Mina? An absolute angel sent from heaven, well fit into the standards of fame. Those two amongst your clients might as well be considered your favorites - and the list that follows after is a very reputable asset to have. 

But Tzuyu? That is a blank area that has still yet to be defined. 

Something about Chou Tzuyu around these doors and offices has everyone turning their heads in the other direction - because you know from experience in this industry - for someone like her that’s bound for stardom with that one of one face and the age that she’s at will be the kind of story that’s not following the script. She’s one of the most genuine, kind-hearted, and beautiful souls that everyone envies to an extent; moreso jumping over cars and off of cliffs to have a mere inkling of notice from her, a scale tipped in the balance to love or hate her persona at the same time. Every now and then she sweeps you up in that whirlwind too, but who can blame you for getting lost in her charming features?

And you find it to be amazing at how she remains so stoic. Color yourself impressed, or bewitched even, you’re also reminded why this little project of hers hasn’t been brought out to the world. 

“So remind me again,” you’re saying, settling yourself around the office, scooching your way past Tzuyu to take the open spot left vacant on the couch, “Tzu over here was caught with what?” 

The observing of Tzuyu doesn’t stop there, unfortunately, limit testing on how dire this present situation actually is - with those long, glossy locks that rest right past her shoulders and in front of her chest, beautifully so like a sculpture bust; the threaded eyebrows, and those long eyelashes. Then, there’s the dimple - and her baby blue outfit, the heels, the jewelry, snug with the curves of her body, she’s meant to be the main event, the sole person who can shift the atmosphere in just a few steps-

Tzuyu’s manager, sadly, isn’t one to play games however. 

Another quirk of the brow gets thrown, and they hit you with a crinkle from the bridge of their eyebrows, inward lips as if anything said from this point on would be held against themselves. 

So you smile, and play the cool guy vibe, mirroring Tzuyu’s seating position in the exact same way down to the wiggling foot. “Well?” 

A file gets thrown to the coffee table in the middle of you three, and a phone is up in the air - unlocked and everything when it lands in between your hands. It’s already on the photos app, and when you’re zooming in to get a closer look at all of the pictures from what you can see from the date in the top portion of the screen - from last weekend, and you’re doing the exact same expression as her manager. 

“It was supposed to be a breaker event for little ‘miss perfect’ over here,” Tzuyu’s manager starts, laser focused like he thinks you’re going to ask her yourself if the contents in the phone were actually hers - which might not make the situation better. Look, you’ve got to keep it cool and stay professional, since that’s your job - especially since Tzuyu’s also young, not by much, but it still feels all the same. Sure, you could challenge that, but why would you? Every time you look at Tzuyu, she can see that there’s not a single thought past your eyes. “I leave her with Sullyoon for thirty minutes at this event and I-” 

You turn your head towards Tzuyu again to which she gives you the side eye after looking at the phone in your hand, and somehow you just know. 

Tzuyu’s manager flips open the file, filled with a good stack of pictures. He spreads them out all over the table, much like finding a specific still from this gallery that stands out. You’re staring, closer, the photos match up in the phone too and- 

Shit. 

That’s the only word that you can think of, but the meaning and intent could be taken in either one of two ways. As for the thoughts circling around your head?

There’s hardly any. Almost nothing. 

“Okay,” you say, face still unfazed; a skill in itself that took a god awful amount of time to get down perfectly, but still, holy shit. Now you’re seeing why the agency is doing everything in their power to keep this under wraps. You can’t even believe the pictures that show Tzuyu exposed with no clothes at all, clearly tattered up in marks and scratches and ran through from whoever was the person that took the pictures in the first place. There’s her thighs stacked on top of each other with pointe feet, her abs are soaked in fresh spurts of cum, the way that her head is crestfallen to the right side as she tries to cover her face, how she smiles at the corner of her mouth; she’s made for the cameras - and you could see the literal sex that she emits from the stills, every profane term in the book or in your vocabulary culminated into one person - but this is the line of work you’ve put yourself in, as you can feel the two pairs of eyes staring at you from the both of them, waiting for an answer. 

You toss the phone off to the side, and get your fingertips on the pictures, examining them with wandering eyes. And with the calm and composed demeanor you could craft within seconds, you say: “I don’t see what’s the problem here.” 

Nothing flies with Tzuyu’s manager at this point when it comes to you. “Watch the attitude now,” he leads, overbearing. 

“What he said,” Tzuyu doubles one second after, a wisp of hair falling to the front of her face, grinning behind the thin curtain of her strands, “Watch the attitude.” 

You exchange glances between Tzuyu and her manager, clearly in shock at how they’re figuratively double-teaming against you. Tzuyu’s always had a knack for being upbeat and funny, flirty would also be a way to put it, but she’s made that her own thing, her label - the press wasn’t kidding when they said in between the lines that this woman here was going to turn the world on its head, to make anyone from anywhere fall to the ground just to have them acknowledged in her good graces - many will die when granted the opportunity - but it's one of those days that has you wondering why she’s more forward, and obvious, that equation is still getting solved by the second. 

“Done,” you say after, giving in to their demands; it’s still difficult to learn and determine what kind of tale she’s willing to write today and you’re still seeing whether it's a good idea to play along to what’s forming. “What else do we know about her and-”

“Sullyoon’s already had her discussion earlier,” Tzuyu answers right away, combing her hand through her hair, watching her fingers disappear within those coffee bean locks that’s effortlessly charming. “As for me, that’s still yet to be determined. Which also got me thinking: it can’t be that bad as it sounds the way that you’re suggesting it.”

You’re also seeing the attitude that Tzuyu’s showing through her words and how she feels about the entire situation as a whole before you and her manager could even dive into the more complicated bits within the first five minutes of walking into the room. It’s like in her case file written in parentheses: ‘known to be a hot head, and a bit self-obsessed’ - considering her arrogance at times, but her charms make up for it. She can be one or the other, or even both. It’s how she grins: simply desirable. Once she’s put her name out there for the rest of the world, and not even for the industry, the scandals won’t even touch her going forward. She’ll be untouched while you are at the bottom picking up the scraps and taking the damage. 

“The punishment for Sullyoon is a lot more lenient because of me,” says Tzuyu’s manager, but his gaze gets back on her, hand on hip in clear and utter disappointment with the shake of his head. “And Haewon’s already not having it with the incident with Bae. Now with this, it’s a complete clusterfuck of events, so I just-  ugh, it’s a lot.” 

“Sorry to hear that,” you apologize, a hand up but the look on your face shares little to no care about the manager’s pain as of this moment. “And for the record, I feel like we had this conversation before, no?” 

“You’re her advisor, dipshit.” Tzuyu’s manager grits, ball forming at the fist, “That’s the reason why I brought you on board with her in the first place. Isn’t that supposed to be your job to, y’know, advise?” 

“You’re the manager, and might I add the correction: her manager,” you shoot back retortfully, “Maybe you should keep a close monitor on our lovely, budding starlet here from the get-go?” 

Tzuyu stifles a laugh, causing both your eyes and her manager’s to do this form of joint attention on her, and hiding away in the plane of her medium-sized hand, “What?” you both say to her, and it comes off as comical. 

“Nothing,” she muses, lifting a leg up over her opposite one this time, leaning deeper into the cushions of the couch, eyebrows up in the horizon of her forehead, beaming. “I just thrive amongst the bickering you two are having over my career.” 

“See?” And Tzuyu looks away from your rolling eyes, “I put it in the file in bullet points. She’s not ready for this kind of pressure and lifestyle, and do you really want me to go through the list of the incidents she’s already put herself through to serve your memory?” 

“I would find it best for you not to remind me of everything up until now.” Tzuyu’s manager shuts down the question, spinning his phone in hand between the fingers, “Please don’t-” 

“DUI charges, social media backlash because of a vape laying in her lap in one of the pictures, smoking out late at night with Ryujin and Yuna,” You’re listing out the events anyway, because Tzuyu’s manager can easily tell that you’re the kind of person to not really give a shit about these kinds of things. It’s not you being put under the spotlight - this microscope that’s always being picked off with a pair of tweezers - how one influencer’s words could brainwash the general public into rubbing their palms with a pair of tangerines. They’ll always follow, to some extent; and for Tzuyu, that’s the kind of power she wants to have - to get people talking about her and not stop there. 

“So do you want me to keep going?” You ask again, clearly caring little to none as Tzuyu examines her personal stills, head tilted when she picks up one of the photos. “And may I remind you that she’s got a gala event to attend to in the midst of all this, so let me ask you this boss,” you say, and you can see the flared nostrils coming from Tzuyu’s manager, “How do you want to go about this?” 

Tzuyu’s manager freezes, phone vibrating in record time like crazy. He’s taking a few seconds to strategize the next move, what’s the next course of necessary action. Keeping Tzuyu here is the worst idea, because that breeds into speculation. Compounding that, there’s also the monumental effort of keeping these pictures on the table in her phone on the down low, which may be impossible at this point, given with the insiders circling around like moles in the organization. 

“The event isn’t for another hour and a half or so,” Tzuyu’s manager announces, eyes darting back and forth from the phone to you two sitting on the couch, pulling his lips upward at the exchange of messages. “Fuck this industry sometimes,” he groans, “You do things here and there and don’t expect the treatment to be - goddamit, Haewon’s calling me again about Sullyoon,” he says, phone to the side of his head when he answers. “Hey, Haewon. No, I uh- I’m here with Tzu and- yeah, I’ll come over right now to see the situation.” He pulls his phone away from his ear, button pressed on mute, “Sorry, but you know where I’m going with this here.” 

“Don’t be,” says Tzuyu. There’s some tension in the air, like a flare set off in the dead of the night - how her head turns slightly towards your direction, smile laced with a purpose - and she cocks her head off to the side as her manager starts to make his way out the room. “We’re not leaving yet as it is.” 

Her manager pauses, in between the open doorway. His phone is right back into his ear, nodding along to Haewon on the other end of the line, eyes lapping side to side and back between the two of you - because it’s his job, and he can’t get away from that fact regardless. 

“That’s still up in the air, you know,” he says towards you, clearly hurt by the tone you gave earlier; insulted might be one better word to put it, but he knows that you know better and you’re just acting like this out of spite. “Don’t know how long this will take, but pray that I’ll be back before we have to go.” 

Once the door closes - much like a kingdom raising up their drawbridge, a safe with all the locks in the world clicking into place - holding you and Tzuyu prisoner in this vacuum of space, this could be hell, or it might be heaven. Tzuyu clicks her tongue, gets it under the front portion of her bottom teeth, at a molar, studying you as if you’re a centerpiece or painting hung up on the room; this girl is clearly unreadable. 

“Tzu,” you call out to her, keeping the ambiance chill - whilst maintaining some form of lead in this hurricane of tension. It doesn’t also help that the sun is right at the ocean, kissing along the horizon towards the beach, a wonderful mixture of hues between orange and dark blue and purple clashing in the sky, the lights are on in the neighboring skyscrapers - a view that can serve as the last sight for someone before falling off fifty plus stories - and in the midst of all that calming pictures, she’s still looking at you. 

She leans over, dress wrinkling in all the right creases. Don’t look now, or else that’ll be the end of you, as she blinks dotingly, lashes fluttering and with that sugary tone of hers, she just says: “Yes?” 

“What gave you the compelling idea to have an entire album of a cock in your mouth. Not only that, but the fact that Sullyoon was also in on this too? Especially when she’s three years younger than you, her senior? Like what-” 

“You’re making it sound like I fucked up?” Tzuyu says, an eyebrow raised in curiosity, the innocence isn’t doing her any justice compared to the hard evidence found in her phone. “Of course I know what I was doing, and believe me, this would only speed up the process a little more.” 

“What process?” 

“To get me out there into the real world.” 

She giggles when the crease of your eyebrows knitting together comes back into the frame of your face, leaning over while she sinks back into the couch, hands fiddling with the red ribbon that was attached to her dress. The eerie sound of your name being recited from the proper pronunciation meshing into hums. She’s observing your posture, much like her normal act persists - staying quiet but acknowledging others when needed. You hate how much of a sweetheart she is at times, because it’s all a setup for a bleeding edge that eventually comes to life sooner or later. 

“I’ll keep it real,” you’re starting again, “You did fuck up. And you fucked up bad. It’ll be a miracle if this doesn’t get out, but I’m not holding my breath for you, and-” 

Tzuyu just keeps staring. With that gaze of hers, she’s still trying to get a read - from the hem of your jacket or at the peak of your ruffled hair, it might be easy to tell that in some way: she’s into you.

“Okay, in simple terms, you’ll live.” With that said, you shouldn’t be silently suffering with a potential breakout star of an actress, so you’ll hang strong against her glance. This was something that you enjoyed doing from the multiple meetings and screenings. “We could honestly set this up to be a hush money agreement with whoever managed to get these pictures in the first place -  your fault, might I add - but anyways, all of this should go away, if we play our cards right. No need for you to come forward to address the rumors, that’s why you have people like us to deal the damage. All you have to do here is just - uhm - well, be Tzuyu.” 

Tzuyu appears intrigued, finding a small crack in your impenetrable armor, a rarity at times but also is aware that it might be a minor slip-up. “Be Tzuyu? What do you mean by that?” 

You flash a look at her, but she’s one to double down, eyes squinting - she’s capitalizing on your mistake. “There’s a proper term for this,” she says, “and maybe um, pretty would be one to suffice?” 

“I’m not trying to sound afraid,” you say, calmly. “There’s two choices between right and wrong. Then there’s the respect, and also being sensible. You have to treat this career like it’s your life.” And you didn’t say professional, because that word is the last resort; a rescue rope only to be used in the most dire situations. 

“I want this life.” The admission, something nestling underneath the parts of her sentence, a slow-burning being soaking behind those soiled eyes. Tzuyu then scoots over, gets closer to you, tips her chin to further the examination. “I have what it takes to be professional. You’re just afraid to say it to my face.” 

“Welp, you caught me,” you say, knotting your fingers in between themselves just to keep yourself from doing anything rash, maybe walking out of the room to leave her alone would be the best move, instead of letting your thoughts get the best of you and pinning her body flat on the couch. “Seriously, doing things like this will only kill your chances of making it big even before you start.” 

Common sense appears to be dissipating out the clear windows. And now Tzuyu is the one who’s taking full advantage, bursting your personal bubble - the way that she shimmies her way across the cushions, so mindful of how she moves her body at every curve and nick in her limbs; you can hear your own heartbeat quickening, like you’re hiding in a locker and she’s about to tamper with the dial to get the door open - and she’s about face to you, hand ghosting the upper profiles of your chest where your shoulders are at. She’s not that tall from a height standpoint, but sitting down, she’s matching your build bit by bit. 

“It’ll happen, regardless,” says Tzuyu, face with a wide grin. “That’s why people like you are working hard to make sure that things like these don’t happen again. Especially in the long run.” 

“You’re really going all out today, are you?” You exclaim after closely assessing, holding our ground against her. “Might I add that you might also ruin Sullyoon’s career after yours is out of our hands?” 

“She’s a tough girl,” says Tzuyu, flatly, as if the prospect itself is something to laugh about. Tzuyu is a silent killer, shown in her signs of arrogance which shouldn’t be enticing to you, but they are, and in every way possible. “And like I told you, I’ll keep doing shit like this because I want to. You can hide away all you want, when it’s clear in your eyes that you want me just as bad as I want you.” 

“And what do you propose here?” 

“I’m telling you that the way you sound right now turns me on, genius.” 

It comes in a black flash, much like you staring down the hole of a double-barreled shotgun; or your head getting pushed into a tub of ice cold water. You can see the stars in her eyes, each and every one of them an alternate reality of their own between you and Tzuyu, sparkling with so much light. “Who’s saying that fucking a client was on the cards?” 

And Tzuyu chuckles at that, on cue like it's some cheeky sitcom. “Don’t get stupid with me,” she says, and she’s raining fire down from above. “Everyone already has said the same thing at least once or more.” 

Your eyes land on the clock hanging above the room, then they dart to the closed door. “He’s not gonna be back anytime soon, is he?” 

“Haewon’s office is at least five floors down, and the elevator apparently hasn’t been working all day..” 

“Some luck.” 

“I can make my own.” 

“I hope you know that this is a really bad path you’re going down to.” You’re deterring, but it's a lazy attempt at best, no point in shying away - because you’re not scared of Tzuyu, and you never were, mentioning the fact that she’s radioactive in her own rights. She’s equipped with an arsenal of tricks and quirks, but you’ve got your own brandished within that noggin of yours. A hand is on her thigh, trailing up to the hip, and she looks down to take the hint, scooting closer. “You’ve got some nerve, testing me like this, and you have no idea what you just signed up for.” 

“Do you have to be this serious?” Tzuyu’s hand finds yours, slipping up against the fine silk across the palm of your hand. “I’m one for keeping things simple here,” she’s telling you, watching your eyes as your fingers get rumpled over the fabric, venom lacing your nerves before you even realize it. It’ll get reactive really quick, but you stand your ground. “About the sex, don’t overcomplicate-” 

“Why would I overcomplicate something with the likes of you?” you’re asking her, and you watch as her hand finds the knot tied at the nape of her neck, unraveling it, where you see her bra. It’s no help that she’s sliding her dress down to her panties and thighs, the covers being unleashed with every inch opening up to the air. “We’re on track here, and I think I’m getting warmer here.” 

This is something serious, much like a public execution at the hands of her just strolling on by - people stopping in their tracks just to get a good look of that face, that body, so this might be some form of armageddon - but Tzuyu’s dress gets discarded somewhere in the office, to a corner where it won’t be seen on her until you’re fully done with her. Everything in your head is flowing like a whitewater river, a burning urge that gets beyond just the sexual aspect of it. So you’ll get your knees deep: 

“You know how long I’ve been waiting for this?” you ask, and examine. The sense of being normal and professional has long gone out the way. But oh. Oh, she knows what she wants, and you’ll have the fine luxury to give that to her, because it’s what you signed up for: twist the words and her body in every way that you see fit, to fill people in on what their crown jewel of a woman is up to. “Dreaming of that one day where someone will just tell you straight: I want to fuck you. Well Tzu, today’s your lucky day.” 

Tzuyu tenses, eyes appearing like glitter, holding your hand where it stays on the rise of her hip. “I’ve never seen you this talkative outside office hours.” 

“I converse like this on the regular.” You’ve got the experience, and the hours under your belt, you’re holding the other end of the rope in her burgeoning career - if she fucks up the next time, you’re also gone along with her, too. “Now, are you gonna keep talking, or are we going to talk business?” 

Tzuyu is so good for you, in more ways than one. It’s in her eyes, the way that she tilts her head off to the side, when you’ve pushed her up against the cushions as far as you could take her, hair spilling over to her covered breasts, keeping her gaze locked with yours when you’ve sunk to the bottom of the couch - the low light of the sunset makes way for the night sky, moonlight breaking through that captures her face, illuminating the fine mold of her cheekbones, her teeth break past her lips, and she smiles a bit like practice for the waves of flashes out on the red carpet - she relaxes, feels the lace of her panties slide off her thighs like nothing. Undeniably gorgeous, is one way to put it, she’s dirty, she’s every single thing; oh god, the staring, when you look up between her legs, mouth hanging low, chest puffed up in anticipation of the relieving pressure. 

“Many people have tried to test me, get rid of the fun in what I do with my manager and such,” Tzuyu says. “But I knew-” Her hands find yours, sliding up the sides of her outer thighs, holding them in place when you start to lean in. “You didn’t do anything about it, and I liked how you were with me, to set me right, without the changes of rules.” 

“Had it been anyone else,” you acclaim, mouth leaving hot and wet kisses across the inner portion of her thigh; she’s got a hand in your hair with no intention of letting you go. 

“You,” Tzuyu says the singular syllable, reduced to just very minimal words, much like she’s being scolded. But the confession let out is like a padlock finally breaking under the pressures of the wrench: “I’ve always wanted you. I promise and fuck- I’ll be good.” 

There’s actually no way she said- 

The words that spilled out her mouth flew over your head for a short second, a minor blowback in the swing of things - but then again, why are you playing it safe with Tzuyu in the first place? There’s no need, and you’ve got to make that apparent to her; you’ve got your hands on her long legs, spreading your hand out on the skin, she’s got a hand sliding down to her glistening pussy, but she reels back when you’ve beat her to it, and Tzuyu hisses, hiding a whine, “Baby…” 

You pause, hike her up on the couch higher, focus slinging to her face, and her dead-eyed stare slams right alongside yours. 

“Tzuyu,” you’re saying, when you’ve managed to say her name that’s caught in between your vocal folds - it’s a little rushed, no exhale behind it, and a bit tattered - but there’s her demeanor, the tightness swirling in the air between you two. She’s only a few years younger - and that alone could be worse - you’ve got the better position, the better wits of how things work, the implications - and maybe you were a pawn in her game all along, there’s really no telling. 

“Love it,” she exhales, voice tripping when you dip your mouth down to her other pair of lips, “when you say my name,” she’s needy, fingers curling to your head to satiate the sensation a bit longer. Legitimately, fuck, she might end your career, make you a martyr for the whole office to witness, and she could be the one to do all that. “Baby, your fucking mouth.” 

The gaze never wavers on her, hunting - her dainty fingers are gripping the cushions, fibers of muscle moving in ways much so she would be defending herself; she’s used to giving orders and due compliance, but knows where she stands in certain situations. She could be the primary catalyst of what’s happening right now, but you’ve got full control: a green light going off in the back of your mind. There’s no turning back now, foot to the floor, bases fully loaded. She won’t- She won’t last a week in this life by playing it by the rules. 

“Need me that bad?” You ask, face twisting devilishly. Some things in this line of work have taught you that people have to be selfish at times, and you’ll fall face-first into that. “Watch and learn, sweetheart. Don’t even think about getting your hands on me.” 

Tzuyu’s lip is caught between her upper teeth, rolls her eyes, nodding profusely - it’s gonna take more than that. You see her lidded eyes, spread her apart further, “We listening?” 

“No- touching,” she sighs. This girl is soaked - the refreshing taste of her cunt on the pad of your tongue, and you’ll keep indulging. You’ve got yourself in that open space between her legs, she’s sputtering out nonsense, pulling her thighs in to combat against your hands - “Please, just- please, do this one thing for me, I swear-” 

She’s waving the flag up high in the air, and of course you’re going to take this into account. This is someone who is going to make headlines wherever she goes, has people do things that would lead into major or second-hand embarrassment, so you lean down to her aching pussy - across the folds, and her clit, so slick for you, she’s sighing a lot more louder this time - and she’ll let you mold her into any shape you want her to be, let your tongue do the talking: “Right there, yes-” she’s relaxing into your hands and face, giving you the praise she’d never thought she’d say to you ever, like some act of contrition that will absolve her actions - wow, and you’re wondering of the lucky fucker who took the pictures of her and Sullyoon got the same luxury as you’re getting right now. “Fuck, oh honey-” 

You’re paying no mind to how her hips are wiggling across your face, desperate for a sense of friction, fighting every urge to not dig her nails into your hair and get your tongue even deeper where you can send it - but you keep her legs spread, and she could almost rip into the cushions on the couch, grip tight enough to choke- 

“Taste so good,” you mutter, off to the side of her leaking slit, listening as the chorus of Tzuyu’s moans crescendo a bit before dropping in silence. “Look at you, being so good for me.” 

“Shit, you’re gonna- you’re gonna make me-” 

Whether she’s able to tell you or not, you know it all the same. Her flawless face is so torn to the fine points - faltering in every aspect of perfection, that apex, you’re working her there, warmer, and warmer-

But you pull from the tops of her thighs, shove your nose right down to her clit. Stay right fucking here, and don’t even think about moving a muscle; sometimes there’s no need to say things verbally - but the implication stands - when Tzuyu finally lets go into the heat of your mouth. 

You can be lenient, maybe have her rest in the grace period, but there’s a schedule still drawn up on the board, and the sand in the hourglass is still seeping through the middle. “I’d like to keep this up,” you tell her, cleaning up the slick spread across your lips - that fine nectar, easy to say that you’re addicted, but that’s old news. “But must I remind you that you’ve got an image to protect at this gala you’ve got in an hour?” 

“Can- Can I have my turn now?” Tzuyu asks, sitting up on the couch now, hands fast to her backside, unlatching the clips of her bra, slides out of it like it’s nothing. You’ve got your jacket discarded on her manager’s desk, hands to the buckle. Tools are being laid out here amongst you two, and Tzuyu keeps her eyes trained on you, chest rising and falling - watching the noticeable bulge appearing in your boxers. “Please, I can help - just need your cock-” 

“Do you always like to rush these things?” You ask her - pushing her back as her arms just float in the air - she’s beautiful, gorgeous, and wanting; the notion alone would already be disregarded if it wasn’t for the sensible form of structure in your head. It’s in that dimple of hers, that sly grin, those eyes, she’s a personification of eye candy: you’ll keep staring for as long as she’d like you to. “No need to answer that, but,” and you laugh in between for a slight second, “You’re really pushy today.” 

“Please, baby.” That gaze, eyes trained up with her bit lip, she’s dangerous. “For me.” 

You don’t say anything, but with a simple nod, and her fingers are fast to the elastic. 

You also like how she’s willing to follow, to listen. She’s good with her hands, she’s been trained to handle PR questions with the flick of her wrist, programmed to take information and internalize it - she’s flawless enough to stand with the other clients, even when you’re the first to make the move in kissing her, capture her mouth with yours. It’s a bit cute when she’s caught off guard, sucking the air out of her, yielding to your touch.  She’s smiling against your lips, and that’s the laced venom you’ve been cautious of. 

The grip gets let go from the back of her head, retreating, panting, the taste of her lips mixed with yours. She helped clean off the remnants of her pussy on your tongue and she’s licking her lips again wanting more. “Give me some kind of feedback. A demand. Anything,” you command, fingers dancing along her chin when she looks up so innocently. “I think you’ll ask nicely, so prove it.” 

She doesn’t even think twice about it. “I want you,” she’s coming in and out of focus in her eyes, way past the point of no return, staring at you while she’s keeping you magnetized to her hands, slowly dragging along the skin of your cock, “to fuck me, put this cock inside my pretty little pussy, and use me to cum all over-” 

Her face does it for you, shattering right in front of your eyes, wanting smile, pupils blown - you snake your arms around her back, press her down to the couch - there’s a beauty behind the sneakiness of this, the thrill of being found out, the risks taken to take advantage of someone to your own liking, let the thrums of your heartbeat be the only thing to hear within yourself - but Tzuyu goes quiet, she’s so pliant and wet that doesn’t really need any words to come out of her, just the noises when- 

“Fuck.” 

When you slide your aching cock into her cunt, slowly, painstakingly strategic, and the feeling was too much to bear for her. 

“God-” 

You draw back and snap your hips into her - a statement made, an opening in the woven threads to rip a hole in -  you’ve got a hand quick to her parting mouth, hushing her, pinning her. “Go any louder,” you’re hissing, lowly, trying to not think about the fucking clench her cunt makes around you, “Go any louder, and you’re just asking to get caught. We can’t have that, can we?” This is something new, something absolutely obscene, hiding away in the office of her manager’s - keeping a secret that nobody should be able to tell, besides you two. “Did you realize how much of a slut you are when I saw those pictures?” 

Tzuyu’s breasts wobble on the upstrokes, bouncing along while leaking all over your length. The thought of damage control is still in play, to not have her completely ruined for the red carpet in the next hour or so - but you’ll take the secrecy, construct a fake picture to ensure that will not have anyone look a second time. Nobody will know how good Tzuyu’s wrapped around you, that hot and tight cunt, a hand now wrapped around her neck, pressing down but not too much- 

A thumb is in between her lips. “Speak up.” 

“Yes- I know, fuck, it was- a mistake.” She’s choking up the words from the hand on her throat, barely enough to produce the sounds through her vocal folds, chasing for that relief that she desperately needs - “It was stupid, but,” she’s unmoving with her reasons, fervor standing strong, it’s irking - you’ve got to fuck this attitude out of her - “That doesn’t matter, please, your cock, keep fucking, right there, that’s the spot, I’ll be good, I’ll cum for you, make you not worry about-” 

“You keep talking like this and I’ll make you shut up myself.” 

She spills a line of expletives that get mixed up with the slaps of her hips with yours, but there’s one outlier - maybe two - that captures your ears. 

“I didn’t make him cum inside me, but I’ll let you do it if you want.” 

“Yeah, not happening, babe. Not like this.”

Tzuyu mewls and whimpers when you give her one good, impaling hit inside her cunt, let your cockhead rest right beneath the womb where it aches. It doesn’t help her case when she’s shaking her head in refusal, denying. You’re chuckling as she tries to shimmy out of your grasp, the sound reverberating around the room, in relief, or awe would be a way to put it. Stepping into this office was a little bit out of your way, just popping your head in to get a quick word before going on with whatever was on the agenda - until this whirlwind of events coming from her changed all that. “Please. Can you do that? I want it, I want you, so bad. I swear, nothing bad will ever happen from me again - please, if you just-” 

Luckily, everyone’s gone from the office for today - because she’s way louder than you would’ve expected - you ram your cock inside her pussy, without any care for her begging and pleading - there’s also not ruining her appearance, but you’ll pull something out of your ass or she will to cover it up. You’ve made your mark in twisting people’s words around, shifting the angles that way you’re not the one taking up the heat. Conjuring up whatever you could that might rival a con artist’s whole life. But this is also another thing: if Tzuyu’s manager walks in right now, you could prime the whole act onto her and she’ll be gone. 

“You can keep asking, begging, offering, whatever it is that you want.” It’s hard to forget that you’re on the clock, the provisos informed, lines that were drawn up from the start; you could cut it some slack, maybe for someone like her, who really knows. “I’ll keep fucking you up as long as I like, but you’re not getting me to cum up all inside you.” She tilts her head back, and you sweep down to the column of her neck, get a mark on it, not too hard. “Want it to be easy? Just keep screaming, nobody will hear you.” 

Wishing that this moment here in the room to last forever might be a tall ask. From the exchange of hitched breaths coming out of your lips and hers, to the slaps still stable in pace, bottoming her out as her ankles finally latch onto the small of your back, holding you in place - someone could walk in the room now and know without question as to what you’re doing to her - maybe with the sea of cameras at this event later will take notice as to the damage you’ve done to- 

“Inside. Please, nobody has to know. Just us.” Fuck, this girl is testing your mental tenacity, exersizing every impluse that you’ve unleashed of every dirty thought you’ve had since working with her. She could convince you with words, the magma emitting from her voice, sounding low, goes so well in tandem with her moans. “Maybe if you keep this up, I’ll let you knock me up whenever you want, wherever you want, however you want.” 

“You- Tzuyu, you- fuck-” 

“That would be so hot, you know? To use my tight pussy as your personal cumdump - shit - even the manager won’t take up on the offer, so you’re the next one in line.” 

The defiling theory alone is very, very tempting. She’s not like this when there’s a camera or journalist waiting for a slip up to pen the story - you’re still in the driver's seat, keeping it level, thinking of some substance for guidance. You’ve been in this position before, and you’ve learned. 

So: 

“I’d be honored,” you say to her, pressing a hand down her breast, grasping, pulling your cock out to do a few measly slaps along her sensitive clit to show her you’re not playing around, “So far you’ve been convincing, but you’re still new to this. A few stupid acts early on will ruin you down the line, so watch yourself.” 

In the meetings, you remember the firm tone when asked for your personal take towards a proposed plan - coming off as abrasive because that’s how gritty this industry really is without showing it - Tzuyu’s incidents have been nothing short of interesting, talking down on her for acting like a complete dumbass - but she loves the degrading, the harsh compliments. This is something that she wants, and you’d be happy to let the media eat her up alive for it. 

“It’s gonna take a lot more than that just to sway me,” you keep going, twist the knife to where it hurts: “You’re not the first one, let me tell you that, Tzuyu. And I can assure you: you certainly won’t be the last.” Hands on her hips, and you fuck in - it doesn’t get any simpler than that. “Don’t test me with that attitude, because I’ll make you change it in an instant.” 

Her entire body is like a noose, a live wire on a bomb that’s about to reach zero - she’s gripping and convulsing around your cock, you’ve got her to be this way, “Please,” pleads Tzuyu, the utterances and vowels and consonants all collapsing like some domino effect, eyes flapping shut, and the sounds of obscenity seem to get better every passing second, “You’re gonna make me- make me fucking cum, oh god-” 

She’s got so much potential to shake the industry up, not since Sana first came around and did some damage to you. Mina was also the same, and could match up with Sana if the universe allowed it. No one is ready for what Tzuyu has to offer, no fan could scream and break down crying let alone a photoshoot capture the beauty she carries with that face of hers, and that body, every part is sculpted to immaculate perfection, the flex in her abs when you thrust down, catch the arch in her back with an arm, get your forehead with hers, the scaffolding finally losing it’s last limbs of support at the ground level, hand quick to the hard bud of her nipple-

“Cum all over this cock, Tzu,” you’re sighing, leaning down to coax her with a kiss, and she’s got a hand raked through your hair again. “Cum for me. Do it. No shying away from me this time.” 

And like you’ve observed before, the mental note much like a callback, she’s so easy to comply; it's in how your mouth works over her, cunt so slippery hot in friction with your cock sliding in with no problem whatsoever, this is everything to you - and Tzuyu’s body goes limp, holding in a noise in her lungs. It’s a high-pitched ‘fuck’ followed with a murmur of your name, muddled with ‘baby, oh my god, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-’ 

You’ll leave a mark for someone else to notice, the shade with enough bite that could be covered up with a little foundation, let her ride out the peak of her high. “Breathe, Tzuyu. There we go, nice and easy, soak up my cock with that pussy of yours. Jesus.” 

Tzuyu picks up on things fast, and she’s reduced to a various spill of words. She’s a shuddering mess, sinking her hips down to get a lasting feeling of your cock when you pull out - but she’s quick to get up, hands fast to your thighs; leaning down, a swift lick up on the underside. Her makeup is a bit battered, chest slick and light pink from all the marks you put; she hollows her cheeks, has a little bit of fun, and you start to sink. 

“Tzu.” 

She gives no response, lowering her mouth past the halfway point, eyes lidded, but weighted with intent, appalled; her cheek blows up unintentionally, lathering up your cock in her spit, and your head falls back to the crown of the seat. She’s unsure with what she’s doing, you’re tensing and untensing in the lower half, but complaining is the last thing you’ll do. 

“I’ll make it up to you,” you say, gritting your teeth when Tzuyu reaches down a spot near the base, tongue grazing at a vein, where the head of your cock is staring down the hollow of her throat, a slight clench. She could care less with the curses leaving your mouth, it just tells her she’s doing something right. “Do whatever you want, and I’ll owe you next time. Fuck-” 

It does some form of numbers in your head when her eyes lock onto yours, smiling with half a cock in her mouth, quick to shut you up. 

Her mouth is amazing - and that could be an understatement. She’s holding you at the base, where the angle of your cock is tied down between her fingers. You let her take control for a bit, try to see if she can do it herself - but you’ll play the role of guidance again, because that’s what you do, help out in ways that make her have the moment - so you lean forward, hand fast to the back of her head, and you feel her jaw go slack, muffle the choking sound coming out of her open mouth- 

“Fuck, Tzuyu,” you grit, the name alone of hers is an easy impulse to keep doing; you’ve got her hair in this makeshift ponytail, out of the way when she continues to bob her head up and down the length. It was a boring day for you anyway, but at least you’ve made it up to have the prospecting breakout actress strip her clothes down and get on her knees in her manager’s office. “Just keep- yeah, okay, there we- ugh, shit-” 

She mumbles a brief phrase of a ‘mhm’, mouth wide open, salivating, nudging your cockhead down into her throat before pulling back up for another wisp of air - her index and thumb are wrapped around the bottom of your shaft, closing her eyes as the contraction literally leaves you breathless - all the way down into her throat, holding her up with her hair as much as you can- 

Yet the sound that rips from the cavity in your chest, it’s loud enough for someone to hear down the hallway, probably someone from the floor below to pick up on the commotion too. 

Tzuyu’s mouth lets out this sobbed out sound, coughing and inhaling your cock when you cum down her throat - she can’t swallow it all, you think, but you forget her ambition at times when she holds herself, eventually pulling back - eyes glossy and full of impurity, burning irises that mimic Sana’s when she also- 

“God-” you manage to choke out, fixated on the image of Tzuyu cleaning her face up with a small stream of your cum leaking out the corner of her lip. But, you’re satisfied. You’ll let her take the credit for now.

It also doesn’t help when she’s got a finger circling her slicked lips, tilting her head when she hollows her cheeks again around her fingertip. She knows she’s hot, how dirty she can get - and she’d let you do anything and everything from the fucking on the floor to railing her on the walls, because she’s got her own center of gravity with her being, that’s just how it is. 

You can’t help when you’ve pulled her back to your space, catching her lips, since that’s the only logical thing to do with her, and she’ll accept it. “Mmph. I just- you, you-”

“Yeah?” You’re saying, face in your hands when you keep kissing her. “Something to say?” 

“My mouth- you?” 

“And what about it?” 

“Your cum. You just-” 

“I overheard Sana talk to you about her story with me the other day, figured I’d just do it anyway.” 

The tone in your voice is a clear contrast to all the filthy stuff you were telling just a few minutes ago, it’s still crotchety, but a little more lighter than usual - like everything that was a worry suddenly just washed away, and all of a sudden Tzuyu’s quick to get your neck corralled with her arms, leaning for another kiss, the hums alone are delightful, pushing hysterical a bit. 

“I hate you,” she says, a chaste peck to your cheek when you’ve got her ass on top of your forearms, carrying her. She’s laying out a few suggestions, but you’re telling her that the gala could wait, to waste more time to explore her body, more and more. ‘That’s a lie, by the way, but I’m sure you knew that.” 

Shutting her up is a viable option, but she’s right on the jump with that one ahead of you - so she kisses you, why bother putting up a fight against that?

-

The car ride on the way to the gala premiere is nothing short in terms of quiet. Some chatter is being thrown around with you and the driver, since Tzuyu’s manager also had the unfortunate task of bringing some swinger that’s already made a name for herself with the company, per instructions given by Jihyo; you remember hearing it past the open door to your office, named Kim so-and-so on the files. Maybe it was Jennie or Jiwon, or was the name beginning with a letter D? 

“I think the boss man is convinced with your lobbying,” Tzuyu says under her breath. Like you, she’s managed to clean up her appearance - scent still fresh of sex, her hair still a bit rattled, but is trying to repair as much as she can. You can’t keep your gaze off of her; how the headlights from the oncoming cars illuminate through her eyes, handing you her hair band because it doesn’t match up with the look. 

“I mean, if you already asked him what you asked me, and he still refused,” chuckling when you’re looking out the window towards the sidewalk, trailing the crowd of people lining up around the venue, “That should give you enough prose to ask me, since I was next in line.” 

Tzuyu just laughs, dipping her head down - she’s infectious, without even putting effort into trying. You’re seeing why she’s bound to be a topic once she’s put herself out there, and - sure, you could draft up a file with all of that content in a heartbeat. Needless to say, you’ll be one of the many fans. 

“It was supposed to be sarcastic commentary,” Tzuyu tuts, combing her hair over to one side - at the left shoulder, turning her back towards you with the red strands of her dress untied. She peeks over before looking away, fingers fast to knot the ends for a snug fit, pat her collarbones down before tilting down to place a small kiss on her nape. “But on a serious note: do you really think you can handle my little fiasco?” 

You notice that the cars ahead start to slow down, file in line with security personnel stationed along the street, managing traffic. A whole lot of commotion going outside with the photo area, photographers getting ready with their cameras and flashes angled toward the cars, and thank God that the windows are tinted for good reason, brows furrowing in assessing the sea of different media outlets in attendance. 

Tzuyu flows her hair forward, a last minute touch up as she takes a deep breath to calm her mind. You’re playing the stand-in role of bodyguard, checking every side of the car to make sure that things are right in place, avoiding any form of fuck up that might pop up in the next few minutes or so. 

Just when a worker from the red carpet event approaches the door, a buzz vibrates on your thigh. One check later and it’s Tzuyu’s manager. With no hesitation, you answer: 

“Yeah. Oh, okay. Okay. Right, you got it.” 

“I’m trusting you with her. Please don’t fuck this up.” 

“I won’t,” you say, in a melancholic tone to which Tzuyu smirks at. “Good luck with Dahyun? I forgot her name, but it is Dahyun, is it?” 

“Don’t push your luck here, bye.” 

Once that’s gone out of the way, you move over to wave a hand to the worker, signaling a two in your hand to let them know of the delay. After touching bases. You settle back into the backseat, watch as Tzuyu observes from the window, taking in the sight of what she’s dedicated a good portion of her life towards - to thrive in the glares of publicity, get engulfed in the growing flames of fame. She can do a whole lot more than just stand still and look pretty, and you’ll help her there along the way. 

“Still think this is a lot to handle?” You ask, peering over her shoulder, causing her to twist back around to face you. “To be fair, you were pretty nervous when we brought up the incident earlier, so I’m just checking up on you.” 

Tzuyu simply stares, again. Her face may appear blank, but her eyes and the subtle quirk at the corner of her lips tell a different tale entirely. There’s also that sly dimple too, man, she’s too good for you to the point where it’s bad. So what if people already caught wind of her story, you’ve got the contingencies, the fallback if things go south; she got herself into this mess, and you know what you signed up for. 

“They all can go to hell if it comes my way,” says Tzuyu, face falling forward, leaning for a kiss. “Where’s the risk if you don’t run into a cyclone head on?” 

When she gets forward with a hand on the door handle, opening up to reveal herself to the world, you shake your head at her, because that’s another point of discovery to add to her growing list of character: she’ll be the face of this company in record time as long as she keeps acting this way, and you wouldn’t mind staying by her side for whatever is in store. 

Right before she goes any further down the capet, she twirls around on that singular heel on the sidewalk, facing you when you scan the screaming audience, landing your eyes on Tzuyu again - in all of her beauty and elegance, you’ll keep admiring no matter how far or close you are to her. 

An outreaching hand, the simplest gesture, and she asks: “So, are you ready tonight?” 

-

a/n: @co-reborn surprise! not really lol, but this fic is slightly dedicated to them. thank you taking time to read as always <3

[fanficimagery]

The Nanny

When babysitting your neighbor's kid, trouble seems to find you.

Author's Note: SOA AU - No Tara, Clay, or Gemma. Trigger warning for violence! This was supposed to be up for Valentine's Day, but as you can see... that wasn't the case lmao.

Charming, California is one of those picture perfect little towns where everyone tries to be prim and proper, and act like their shit doesn't stink. And in the short time that you've lived here, you quickly realized that the law-abiding citizens hated the fact that Charming was home to a MC, the Sons of Anarchy.

It doesn't bother you to see them riding down the streets as you're out and about, but you do find it hilarious that a majority of the locals either gasp in outrage upon seeing the bikers or avoid them at all costs. You find the bikers very easy-going, but then again the club president is your neighbor.

Jax Teller had taken it upon himself to introduce himself when you were moving in, carrying boxes for you and flashing a rather charming smile as he pumped you for information about yourself. You knew what he was doing, and it was rather laughable, but you had nothing to hide and were a rather boring person, so you gave the information freely. Between the two of you, he was more interesting as a MC president whereas you stayed home and lived off the money your brothers made. Jax seemed interested in what your brothers did for a living that they were able to provide you with the life you have, but you explained they made their money because of the family business that provided private security for celebrities and individuals with a high profile. You helped them with scheduling, but they still did a majority of the work.

Finding out Jax has a son (Abel) makes your heart warm towards the biker, and then warm up to the club when his brothers visit every now and then. Juice was really just a goofball when he wasn't doing business for the club, Chibs was a secret sweetheart, Tig was a little crazy, Happy was hard to read, but it was Opie who was the most normal of the bunch.

You settle into your home quite nicely, working from your little office when your brothers need help to prevent any scheduling conflicts. Then in your downtime, you either have a book in hand or waste time on your gaming system. Jax and his brothers have been over a couple of times, drinking a beer to wind down or eating whatever leftovers you happen to have after you've already eaten.

This morning, however, you've just finished making breakfast when there's a knock at your front door. With a strip of bacon in hand, you answer the door and are surprised to see Jax and his son Abel standing there.

"What's up, Teller?"

He immediately smiles and your eyes narrow. "I hate to do this on such short notice, but my nanny canceled. Do you think you could watch Abel for the day?"

You glance down at the blonde boy, shrugging. "Is he cool staying with me?"

Jax glances down and nudges his son, but Abel merely asks, "Do you have more bacon?"

You open the door wider as you chuckle. "Sure, kid. You want some eggs and hashbrowns too?"

"Yum."

Abel walks into your house without a care in the world and you meet Jax's amused gaze. "So are there any rules I should abide by? Are you one of those dad's that limits screen time or bans sugar?"

"Nope and nope. No allergies either."

"Cool."

"Thank you. I owe you."

As Jax starts to walk down your porch steps, you say, "I'm a slut for food, Teller. Bribe me with food and I'll say yes to anything."

"Anything?" He peers over his shoulder and arches an eyebrow. You scowl at him.

"Almost anything."

Jax laughs. "Don't cook tonight then. I'll bring some cheeseburgers and fries from this diner that makes pretty good food."

"Alright."

. .

. .

When Jax returns later that night, Chibs and Happy follow after learning he was picking up food from the diner. What surprised them, however, was that while Jax parked in his driveway, he started taking the food to his neighbors house. But Chibs, nor Happy, said a word and followed their president with their own food when he didn't protest.

Jax is poised to knock on the door when he hears, "Don't you- don't you dare do it, kid. If you do it, I will personally wait until you turn seventeen to kick your little ass." The words give Jax pause because what the actual fuck! But then Abel's giggling makes him grin.

"Did she just threaten to kick Abel's ass, Jackie?" Chibs wonders, smirking.

"I think so."

"No, no, no! You blue-shelled me?! You're like two. How do you even know how to play this?!" Jax snorts and finally knocks. The trash talking suddenly ceases before… "It's open! If you're friendly, welcome! If not, I got a little ankle biter in here and I'm not afraid to sic him on you!"

Jax laughs some more and enters the house, walking to where he hears all the commotion. Walking into the living room, he can't help but smile at the sight of YN and Abel sitting side by side on the couch, attention focused on the TV where they're apparently playing Mario Kart.

"You bring the goods, Teller?"

"Burgers and fries as promised."

"You are currently my favorite Teller." Still your attention is on the TV, your trash talking his kid being kept very polite all of a sudden. Jax, Chibs, and Happy have no idea what's going on, but suddenly one of the characters is spinning out because of a banana peel and then Abel's giving a long, suffering sigh as the other character passes the finish line. "Yes!" You jump up, pointing down at Abel. "Sucks to suck, kid. Now come on. Your pop's got the goods."

When you finally look up at Jax, you momentarily freeze when you see Chibs and Happy there as well. "Oh. Hey, guys. Kitchen's this way."

Everyone follows you into the kitchen and you immediately grab drinks from the fridge. When you turn around, Jax is divvying up some food for himself, Abel, and you. You pass out the beers to the men and you have cans of Sprite for yourself and Abel. Then as you take the last remaining available seat since Jax kept Abel on his lap, you thank Jax for the food before digging in.

"So did you have fun today?" Jax asks his son.

"Yeah. I got to color and watch TV and play games."

Jax glances at you and you shrug. "I made do. I would have gone to the store to pick up some stuff for him, but I didn't know if you'd feel comfortable with me taking him anywhere."

"I appreciate that."

"So what about you? Is your nanny good or will you need another favor?"

"Uh, she actually might be out for a few more days."

You nod. "I can do it. Is it cool if I take him to the store with me tomorrow morning? I forgot how much little kids snack throughout the day."

"Yeah. I have an extra car seat you can use and I'll leave you some cash."

"Nah. Don't even worry about it. I'll be snacking with him, so I can front the bill."

But still, cash ends up thrown onto the table from both Chibs and Jax. You have a feeling it'd be useless to argue, so you say nothing.

After dinner, Jax helps you clean up before they all take their leave. He tells Abel to tell you goodbye and your heart absolutely melts when you crouch down, and Abel hugs you.

You visibly melt as you hug the little boy back and then pull back to tweak his nose. "Okay, you're officially my favorite Teller again."

Abel smiles at you as Jax laughs and then you bid everyone goodbye at the door.

Abel ends up preferring your company to that of his nanny, so Jax ends up splitting his son's time between the nanny at his house and you at your own house when you have nothing going on.

On this particular day, after a lunch of sandwich and chips, you and Abel are lounging in a kiddie pool right in the middle of your front yard. You even went as far to put up a canopy to have the pool half in the shade and half in the sun, and are soaking in a sports bra and a pair of black tights that look like shorts.

You're sitting in the shade, sipping on a juice box as Abel stands on the other side playing with water blasters. You hear the rumble of a motorcycle, unsurprised to have Jax checking in.

As the blonde walks up, you smile innocently as he laughs. "Where did the pool come from?"

"The store." You shrug. Abel takes the moment to load up his blaster with lukewarm water and shoots his dad with it. Jax doesn't bother dodging the stream. "We saw a commercial for the waterpark and since we can't go there, I brought the water to us."

Wiping water from his face and using it to slick his hair back, Jax crouches next to the pool and asks, "How much do I owe you?"

"Not a cent, Teller." You sip on your juice, grinning. "I haven't been in one of these since I was a kid. This is for me as much as it's for Abel. He just gave me the excuse of getting one and chilling in it without looking like an idiot."

"Well I don't know about that…"

He trails off and you gasp in mock outrage. As he laughs, you say, "You're lucky I respect the kutte and the fact that you have a phone in your pocket somewhere. If I didn't, I'd drag your butt in here with us."

"Next time." Jax splashes his son and then stands before Abel can shoot him point blank with water. "Am I grabbing dinner tonight?"

"Nah. Abel already made a request. He wants chicken tenders and fries."

"And what the little man wants, he gets?"

"Obviously." You roll your eyes playfully. "Plus, it's an easy meal and I enjoy it too."

"Alright." He chuckles as he starts making his way back towards his motorcycle. "Don't stay in the pool too long."

"Yes, sir." You mockingly salute him, lips twitching when you see him momentarily tense before relaxing once more. "See you later."

. .

. .

It's past Abel's bedtime by the time Jax makes it home, and already he's prepared for his kid to either be bouncing off the walls or very cranky. But as he nears YN's house, he notices that it's mostly dark. All the lights are off with the exception of the porch light and a couple of lamps he can see through the windows that peer into the living room. And the TV, of course.

Instead of knocking, he lets himself right in. It's almost too quiet, but he can hear the TV playing rather low in the living room. Heading there, he walks up to the sofa and can't help but smile at the sight that greets him. YN is laid out across the sofa with Abel on her chest, his back to her front. Both are knocked out cold.

Without second guessing himself, Jax pulls out his phone and snaps a quick photo. Chuckling to himself, he then walks around the sofa as he pockets his phone and crouches down. "Hey. YN," he gently calls out while shaking her shoulder.

It takes a few shakes before you wake, sleepily humming until Jax's voice coaxes you until you're fully awake. Your arms wrap around Abel on instinct and when you notice Jax's smirking presence, you relax. "What time is it?" You mumble.

"A little after ten."

"Really? Fuck. I guess the sun really did kick my ass if I'm this sleepy."

"Yeah." Jax chuckles and then carefully starts to gather Abel in his arms. "Sorry about showing up so late."

"Don't even worry about it." You sit up, rubbing your eyes and yawning. "You know I adore your kid." As you follow Jax to the door, you remind him about going away for a week and not being able to watch Abel, but that you'll have your phone on if Abel wants to talk.

Jax laughs. "I swear, my kid loves you more than me sometimes."

"It's only because I'm a better cook," you muse.

Jax opens his mouth to argue, but ends up shutting it and shrugging. "You're not wrong there."

As Jax then exits your home, you bid him goodnight and watch until he disappears into his home.

When you explained to Jax that your brothers made their money because of the family business that provided private security for celebrities and individuals with a high profile, you weren't lying. Nor did you lie when you also explained you helped them with scheduling for said high profile individuals.

What you chose to leave out, however, was that your family had such a great record with security because no one wanted to fuck with a family who had connections to two different cartels through your dearly departed parents.

However, before you settled into the calm life of personal security, your brothers made a name for yourselves as ruthless hitmen amongst the cartels and you… you were a little unhinged when you were caught up in the moment as one of their torturers. You worked for the cartels when they needed you to, but when you and your brothers wanted to distance yourselves, it was the cartels who helped set up your security business.

The week spent with your brothers is just to visit and catch up with those who all three of you came to see as uncles. It was most definitely not supposed to end up with you being caught off guard by a fist to the face. Someone who didn't know all what you were capable of took advantage of the fact that you were a woman who was close to big names within the cartels. They thought you to be easily taken down and used as leverage, but what they didn't count on was you hiding daggers on your persons. The fight was dirty and bloody, and by the end of it you were spitting mad.

You have the urge to carve into someone that your brothers are trying to quell for once when your phone rings. You pull out your phone mid-pacing, and then freeze upon seeing Jax's name on the screen. But it's not a normal call- it's a video call.

"Fuck."

"What?" Your elder brother asks. "Who is it?"

"It's my neighbor. Most likely his kid Abel since I babysit him most of the time." Your brothers glance at each other and you roll your eyes. "I've told you about them. Now toss me my hoodie. I can't let them see my face like this."

Before the call ends, you answer it but make sure to angle the camera away from the bruised side of your face. "Hey, Jax, give me one sec," you say. Your brother tosses you a hoodie and you quickly pull it on after setting your phone down. Then you take a seat at the kitchen table, turning off a few lights so it's a little darker and you can hide within your hood. Picking up your phone and keeping only half your face on camera, you smile. "Hey, guys, miss me?"

Jax's smile falters, but Abel immediately starts talking, telling you all about his day with his dad. He tells you he misses your food and play time, and you assure him you'll be home soon. You tell him about hanging out with your own family and even make your brothers wave at the camera when you switch it on them. Abel's little voice telling them hi makes you smile and then Jax is telling Abel to go watch some TV before bed.

Left alone with Jax on the phone, his smile vanishes. "What happened?"

"What do you mean?" You refuse to meet either of your brothers' gazes as you can feel them staring at you. "Everything's fine."

"Bullshit." Your brothers snort and you huff. Very reluctantly, you pull your hood down and maneuver the camera so it catches your full face. Jax's expression hardens. "Fuck."

"Don't worry. It looks worse than it is."

"What the fuck happened?"

You shrug and quickly glance at your brothers, but they're back to doing their own thing. "Went out drinking with the family and got caught in a brawl. It's been handled."

"So I don't have to gather the boys and kick some ass?"

His words make you huff a laugh. "Nah. I'm pretty sure I put the guy in a hospital."

"You took down a dude?! Now that's hot. I wish I could have seen that."

Uncaring that they're eavesdropping, your brothers burst out laughing and you sigh. You can't help but smile and you end up rolling your eyes when Jax laughs too. "Whatever. How's Abel really doing? Is he driving his official nanny insane yet?"

"Not really. He's just moping around."

"Aww." You coo. "Well I should be home soon. I'll take him to the park or something."

Jax's teasing smile turns genuine. "You know, I've never told you this, but I appreciate everything you do for Abel. You don't have to do anything, but you still treat him like family."

"What can I say? I like kids." You shrug. "And my idiot brothers will never give me any nieces or nephews."

"Hey!" Both your brothers protest.

You grin at them before looking back at Jax on your phone. "I should get going though. We have a meeting with the uncles here in a bit and I need to get ready."

"Alright. No more fights unless I'm there to avenge you. I can't have my favorite girl looking like she's in an abusive relationship."

Snorting, you say, "No promises. Tell Abel goodnight for me and to come up with a plan for what he wants to do when I get back home."

"Will do. See you soon."

As soon as you hang up, your brothers start making teasing kissing noises. "Oh shut the fuck up."

Valentine's Day has never been a day that you really cared for. Sure it was sweet to see teenagers and kids swap gifts and/or cards, or to buy candy half off, but it didn't bother you to have a significant other on this day. But you do remember how good it felt to get a gift as a kid, so you want to make sure Abel has a good day.

With your time spent with Abel, you've come to know that he loves certain fruits and chocolate. So after heading to the store for a quick shopping trip, you return home with strawberries, bananas, and melting chocolate. Then after cleaning the strawberries and chopping up some bananas, you dip them all in the ooey-gooey chocolate before letting them harden while fixing up a white dessert box with edges that say Happy Valentine's Day.

You've just filled the box with chocolate covered fruit when your phone rings and you can't help but smile at the name. You're no stranger to how handsome Jax is, but you know better than to go there with him.

"Hey, Teller, to what do I owe the pleasure of your hot voice?" You immediately answer.

Jax's laughter meets your ear before, "While it's nice to hear you like my voice, I'm actually calling on behalf of Abel."

"Aw. What does my favorite Teller need?"

"You know I'm your favorite Teller, YN." You hum, not denying his words. "But Abel is requesting your appearance here at the shop because he has a very important question to ask you."

"A very important question?" You muse. "What does Abel have to…" You trail off, the amusement in Jax's voice suddenly making something make sense. "His question doesn't happen to coincide with what today is, does it?"

Jax chuckles. "I am not ruining the surprise."

"I swear to God, Jax, if I end up crying I'm going to kick your ass."

"I look forward to it. Now get pretty and get your ass over here. Do not break my kid's heart."

"Never. And I'm always pretty, Teller."

"...yeah. You are." Your eyes widen at his words, but you don't say anything. Jax then clears his throat. "I'll see you soon."

"Y-Yeah. I'll be there in ten."

You can feel yourself blushing as you hang up, but quickly put it out of your mind as you hurry to your room to get dressed. You pull on a black sundress that's covered in sunflowers, the flowy skirt hitting right above your knees. You step into some black wedge sandals and quickly tie your hair up in a messy ponytail. You apply the basic amount of makeup and spritz some perfume around your body.

Heading downstairs, you throw all your necessities into a purse and then grab Abel's box of chocolate covered fruit before heading out.

The drive to Teller Automotive isn't a very long one, and you're soon parking in the lot. You leave your purse in the car, but you keep your box of fruits in hand. You get several wolf whistles as you cross the parking lot, but you merely laugh off Tig and Chibs' teasing.

Before you can enter the auto garage, Jax walks out, a smirk in place. And then before you can ask him what he's smirking for, your gaze is drawn downward to Abel who walks out behind him… and oh. You fuckin' melt.

Abel's hair is slicked into a faux hawk, a red bow tie is clipped to the very crisp white button shirt that's tucked into a pair of tiny faded jeans. In his hands he's holding a teddy bear that's adorned with a miniature Sons of Anarchy kutte, and a red carnation. The adorableness of it all makes you melt and tear up at how cute he is.

"Oh my goodness. You look so handsome," you tell him.

As you crouch so you're more at his level, you make sure the skirt of your dress still covers everything. Abel blushes as he asks, "Will you be my Valentine?"

"Hell yes I will." Abel smiles as he hands over your gifts, and Jax and the others- who were apparently listening in- whoop in celebration. "And as my Valentine, it's only fair that I give a gift as well. Strawberries and bananas covered in chocolate. Your favorite," you tell him.

Abel is so ecstatic over his gift that he nearly knocks you over as he hugs you. When Chibs ask him what he's got, he's more than happy to run off and show his uncles what you've given him. Jax offers you a hand up and as soon as you're steady on your feet, you notice him looking at you in a certain way.

"What?" You huff a laugh, carefully wiping away your tears that never fully fell.

"You are amazing, you know that?"

"Hardly. Tiny Teller is just adorable as hell." You can feel yourself starting to blush so you glance down at the teddy in your hand. "Where did you find a tiny kutte anyway?"

"It's actually Abel's. The guys had it made for him when he was born and he wanted your teddy to have it."

"I'll take extra care of it then." When you glance back at Jax, you ask, "So does Abel have to stay or can I take my valentine out on a date?" You have no idea what Jax had been thinking, but it's like your words make him snap. From one second to next, he goes from staring at you in awe to gently grasping your face and pulling you into a kiss. You gasp but quickly return the sentiment. And when Jax pulls back, still cupping your face in his hands, you ask, "So me wanting to take your kid out on a date really did it for you, huh?"

Jax barks out a laugh and you smile as he leans in for another quick kiss. "Been wanting to do that for a while actually."

"And you waited until this moment to do it," you muse. "Jokes on you though. You gotta stick around and listen to your boys tease you about this while I take Abel out all on my lonesome." You kiss him for a third time and then step out of his reach to holler, "Little Teller, let's go! It's you and me, buddy. Whatever you wanna do."

As Abel approaches with a lot less fruit, he asks, "Can we eat pizza in the park?"

"We sure can. Now say goodbye to your dad so we can go stuff our faces."

Dating Jax Teller is rather thrilling. You do not care to know what goes on in the club unless it pertains to any woman trying to sleep with him, or when Jax needs someone to vent to. Then, and only then, do you let your opinion be known about what goes on with the MC.

But while you have nothing against the MC, you still prefer to spend a majority of your time with Abel. Sure you'll show up to some parties so all the other women know Jax is off limits, but you're content to do activities with little Teller wherever he wants to be for the day.

You thought it was cute Jax tried to shield you from the violence the club was capable of, but never pressed him for information when you noticed he looked stressed about something. This time, however, you wish you had pressed him for information when he asked you to stay in with Abel.

It's nighttime, and you and Abel are relaxing in front of your TV as you watch some new Pixar film about dragons and their riders. The two of you are dozing off when your front door is kicked in, which then makes you jump into action. But you're not just defending yourself, you have a little boy to think about. So before you can find a proper weapon, you're left standing in front of Abel who is now clinging to your leg as he whimpers in fear.

"Jax Teller chose a pretty one this time."

"Fuck off."

The men all chuckle in front of you. "Take her."

. .

. .

The Sons of Anarchy roll up to a subdivision that's still in development, cautiously dismounting their motorcycles and arming themselves. A new MC had established themselves in a neighboring town, looking to make a name for themselves, and they thought knocking down the Sons a peg or ten was what they ought to do to establish their foothold in the MC world for good.

The encroaching MC took to ambushing the Sons whenever and wherever, and the people of Charming were starting to become afraid of strolling their pristine streets. Even the Sheriff was looking to the Sons to end the conflict, but they could only do so much. Unfortunately, one of the fights involved a chase on motorcycles as the Sons were making a run, and the son of the enemy President took a bullet to the right side of his chest and fell. His injuries then resulted in a coma which set off to this little meeting.

As they creep through the eerily quiet streets of the deserted subdivision, Opie flanks Jax. "I don't like this, brother. Something feels off."

"I agree," Chibs says. "We should have put the club on lockdown before ridin' out."

Jax sighs. "Too late now."

Juice, Happy, and Tig jog up to homes still under construction, trying the doors or looking for any signs that someone's been there. It isn't until they get to the end of the block that they notice one home has been vandalized and they know that's where they're supposed to go.

Every Son cautiously enters the house, nose wrinkling as the state of the house. But in the middle of the living room, there's an odd clearing around a small round table. And on that table sits a folded notecard.

The Sons seem to freeze, but then Jax is marching towards the note. Snatching it up, the words written make him tense as his world starts to tilt. "Fuck. They're going after Abel."

As the note flutters to the floor, the Sons all race after their President as he flees the house.

The note read, [A son for a son.]

On the way to YN's, Jax instructs half the Sons to break off and check on the club, while also making calls to get everyone on an official lockdown. Jax, Opie, Chibs, and Happy race to his neighbor's house.

When they pull up, a few neighbors are peering out their doors looking a bit distraught. Immediately, they know something terrible has happened, and that feeling is only intensified when they spot the broken down door.

Rushing to park in YN's front yard, guns are pulled from the back waistband of their jeans. Jax takes point as he enters the house and his heart drops to his stomach. The house is an absolute mess, furniture and glass broken.

The TV is still playing some cartoon movie and when he walks further in, he curses at the sight of a body laying in a pool of blood.

Happy peers over his shoulder. "Now we know she can hold her own."

"Find them. Now."

. .

. .

Sitting in the bathtub, Abel clings to you as his face hides against the side of your neck. Your face hurts from the numerous punches you took, your lip is split, your arms have multiple lacerations, and there's blood dripping into your eyes. But your worst wound is definitely the bullet wound to the left of your abdomen, and you're grateful that Abel's weight is putting pressure on the towel you had pressed against the wound.

It's been quiet for what seems like forever, but suddenly you hear movement. Shakily raising the gun you'd taken from one of the intruders, you take aim and dare the next motherfucker who enters to be someone intending harm on you or the boy in your lap.

The door gently swings open, but no one is there. Your arm hurts from holding the gun up and then you see someone try to peer around the door jamb. You can only partially see his face, but the voice- you recognize the voice even if you rarely hear it when you're at the club.

"Baby girl?"

"...Hap?"

The stoic man steps fully in the doorway, putting his gun away as you drop yours in the tub. Abel shifts as he whimpers and you wince. "Jax! Upstairs bathroom!"

Abel realizes his uncle's voice and dad's name, so he moves to turn. Happy is quick to lift him, his eyes widening at the blood soaking his clothes. "S'fine. My blood," you tiredly tell him. "I didn't… I didn't let them touch him."

"You did real good." Happy's assurance makes you smile, but you're just so tired. As your eyes slide shut, you hear, "Hey! Don't do that. Stay awake, YN."

"Tryin'…" Pounding footsteps race up the stairs and it isn't long until Jax, Chibs, and Opie are pushing their way into the bathroom as well. Jax takes Abel right away, eyes scanning the room before they land on you. Happy and Opie move to help you out of the tub, but Chibs is quick to point out your bleeding wound. The last words you say are, "Call my brothers," before darkness consumes you."

. .

. .

Jax is pacing the hospital waiting room, blood covering his shirt and hands from where he carried Abel. Chibs had taken Abel back to the club to clean him up and fill in the others about what was going on, but now he's back and filling in the Sheriff about what they had walked in on at YN's house. Thankfully Jax and YN's neighbors liked them, and were honest about hearing gunshots before the Sons had frantically rolled up.

Opie and Happy are the only two sitting patiently, but their attention is drawn to a large group of men entering the room. Two men in particular glance around before making a beeline for Jax, but the others hang back by the door. It's evident these men mean business as they stand guard, their suits standing out among the scrubs, kuttes, and regular clothing of the others sitting in the waiting room.

When Jax notices the newcomers, his shoulders sag at the sight of YN's brothers. But his interest is piqued with the suited thugs behind the brothers, tattoos visible along their hands and neck.

The brothers quickly introduce themselves as Noah and Theo, both of their expressions grim.

"What happened?" Noah asks. He's the elder of the two, his muscled torso covered in a button down with their sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

"They were after my kid," Jax immediately tells them, voice low. "She took a bullet for him and she's in surgery right now."

Both brothers' jaws clench.

"Do you know who they are?" Theo asks, tapping away on his phone.

"Yeah. It's another MC. They attacked us on a run and the son of the President took a fall off his bike. He's in a coma, so the President went after my kid in return."

"And your kid was in the care of our sister," Noah realizes.

"Yes."

Noah sighs, running a hand down his face. Then after a few more taps and texts, Theo grins. "Found them."

Jax frowns. "Found who?"

"The people responsible for putting our sister in the hospital."

Jax then tenses. "This is club business, man. We'll handle it."

Both Noah and Theo tense, but end up chuckling. Jax's jaw clenches, but he keeps his anger in check.

Noah says, "If you think it'll remain club business when YN wakes up, then that means my sister hasn't confessed the family secret."

Jax freezes. "What secret?"

"We had to get our start somewhere when our parents died," Theo tells him. "And it just so happened that each of our parents came from very powerful, very wealthy families. We worked our way to the top of the food chain and became rather notorious until we wanted out and settled into the business we currently have."

Noah starts to smirk. "Your club business just became cartel business, my friend. And our uncles are livid that their little girl was attacked."

Jax glances at his boys, but says nothing.

"We'll find them and keep them occupied," Theo says. "When YN is released, she'll be out for blood."

"And she'll get it," Noah muses. "After all, she is quite the little torturer."

When you wake up, you're unsurprised to find Jax by your bedside. You are surprised, however, to learn that he knows about your past thanks to your brothers promising bloodshed. You groan, but then remember Abel. And after assurances that Abel is fine, you relax.

You're anxious to know where you stand with Jax as he explains why you ended up in the hospital. He feels guilty for not telling you what was really going on or putting you on lockdown, along with the club, but you don't blame him for what happened. Dating the President of an MC, you were bound to be pulled into the violence sooner or later, and with your past you knew you could handle it.

When he runs out of steam, it's your turn to start apologizing for not telling him about your life with the cartels. You make sure he knows that you would have never endangered Abel, and if your past had come calling, you would have made sure that they were protected at all costs. Jax assures you he's not mad, but he did wish you would have told him given you knew about the roles some of his brothers played in the club.

But what's done is done, and Jax is more interested in what you plan on doing since your brothers have gone quiet after calling him to inform him that they've got a majority of the MC tucked away in a building that no one can hear the impending mayhem.

"They broke into my home and put a bullet in me just to get to Abel and send a message to you," you say, expression turning thunderous. "The one who shot me doesn't get to walk away. Hell, the ones who fuckin' raised a gun in Abel's direction are lucky that they'll be limping away after I'm done."

"Limping away?"

You slowly smirk at him, lowering your voice. "I'm not gonna draw out my punishment, but my brothers and my uncles' men sure as shit ain't gonna sit back. They're gonna make sure they get the message that they fucked with the wrong people."

Jax huffs a laugh and then ends up staying for as long as the nurses would let him, only leaving when YN's brothers came or he had to go pick up Abel so he'd see that YN was fine for himself.

Then after two and a half days, you're released.

You're still sore, but you've got nothing but vengeance on your mind. When your brothers send you the address of where they're holding several individuals for you to interrogate, you get dressed and head for Teller Automotive.

Some of the guys are surprised to see you up and about, but you wave off their concern as you continue towards the club portion of the shop.

The usual sweetbutts are milling about, cleaning up and most likely getting ready for a party since it is a Friday. You spot Jax and Juice at the bar as Juice taps away on a laptop.

"Boys," you greet as you walk up behind them. "Whatcha workin' on?"

Jax turns in his seat, eyes subtly widening as he stands. "You're out! Why didn't you call me?" He's quick to carefully take you in his arms, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

"Because if I'd have called you, you'd have taken me home and coddled me."

"Well yeah. You were shot."

"I got shit to take care of, Teller, and I'm not wasting another day."

"Then what are you doing here?"

You shrug. "I just thought that you'd want to see the MC face their consequences."

"Now? You're going to do that now?" He asks, his gaze darting down to your covered abdomen.

"Yep. "My brothers procured a place just on the outskirts of Charming where we won't be interrupted. You in?"

"Well, yeah. Obviously."

"Good. Then gather whoever's in and follow me."

As you sit in your car, you watch Jax as speaks with several of brothers to see who he's going to leave in charge. And after everything is settled, only five follow Jax to their motorcycles- Opie, Happy, Juice, Tig, and Chibs.

You start your car and start to drive, pausing by the gate until Jax and the others start to roll out. You take off, keeping your speed down as you drive through the town. But the moment you get to the road leading out of Charming, you step on the gas and race towards the location your brothers sent to you.

You drive along an empty stretch of road until you turn down a dirt road which is surrounded by empty crop fields that have seen better days. The road leads up to a dilapidated farmhouse, a very rusted horse corral, and behind all that is a barn where several vehicles have parked.

You park and get out, waiting for Jax to find the perfect spot to park their motorcycles. Once they do, you wait until they gather around.

"I know this started off as club business, but now it's cartel business. I can't have you questioning me in there."

"This is your playground," Jax says. "We're just here for a show."

You nod and then turn towards the barn doors, pushing them open with the help of Chibs and Tig when they get stuck. Inside, several men are hanging about on turned over crates or bales of hay, some even sitting at a small wooden table playing cards. Music plays softly in the background, but it's cut off the moment your presence is noticed.

Immediately, every man and woman scramble to their feet as you approach.

In the middle of the barn, there's a line of eight men with burlap sacks over their heads sitting in chairs with their wrists tied down to the armrests and ankles tied to the legs. Walking down the line of men, you snatch the sacks from their heads.

"Wakey, wakey, motherfuckers." Each man is clearly exhausted, agitated, and pissed off.

You save the MC President for last, smirking as he sneers at you. "Stupid bitch." He seethes. "Let us go. Right now."

"Bitch," you muse. "If you're going to insult me, at least call me a cunt. Or whore. Those words have much more of an impact."

"Cunt."

Your fist whips out, striking him across the face so hard that his head jerks to the side. He turns to glare back up at you, spitting blood that lands on your pant leg. "Now, now. If you're going to insult me again, at least be creative about it. Your lack of creativity is sorely disappointing." He roars at you, trying to free his wrists and feet, but you merely laugh and continue to pace in front of his men. "Now I'm sure you're all wondering why you're here and it's quite simple, really." You stop pacing, expression hardening. "You fucked with the wrong woman."

Then like a switch has been flipped, you go back to smiling and pacing, gesturing wildly as you talk. "Normally I wouldn't touch MC business with a ten foot pole, but you fuckers messed up. You broke into my home and went after a child under my care- a child that I hold very near and dear to my heart. So, now your piss poor attempt at taking over territory that doesn't belong to you has now come under cartel jurisdiction, and I will make sure that any stupid motherfuckers who dares to come after the Sons of Anarchy will pay a price."

"Fuck that. We didn't cross any cartel!"

"Oh honey," you mockingly coo as you come to a stop in front of the one who spoke. "I am part of the cartel." Turning around, you walk towards a long table and lift the cloth laying atop of it. Beneath the cloth, there's a variety of weapons. You tuck a glock into the back waistband of your jeans and then grasp a dagger in your dominant hand. Then turning to walk back towards the bound men, you smirk. "Now what I want are the assholes who attacked me and dared to point a gun at a child. You give me those men and the rest of you can walk out of here."

Silence.

Dead fuckin' silence.

"Nothing?" You chuckle. "Come on, guys. Give 'em up. I swear it's not worth protecting them. I mean, I can probably figure it out. Eyes are windows to the soul and all that rot. You might have been wearing masks, but I still remember those cowardly glints very well."

"Fuck you! I ain't no coward."

"Bingo!" You shout, pointing the tip of your blade at the culprit. Walking up to the guy, you can't help but laugh as he realizes his mistake and clamps his mouth shut. "One down, one more to go."

"I ain't telling you shit."

"No?" Switching the dagger to your other hand, you pull the glock free from behind your back. You step close to the man, taking aim at his crotch. "Are you sure about that?"

He cruelly smirks. "You're all talk and no-"

BANG!

The guy immediately starts screaming, his buddies struggling in their chairs, and you laugh. When you glance around the room, you see those you consider family chuckling and the Sons cringing in sympathy as they cover their crotches. You walk around so you're standing behind the screaming fool, swapping the dagger and gun in your hands so the dagger is back in your dominant hand. "Going once… going twice…" He continues to scream, and you sigh when no one else speaks up.

And then before anyone can comprehend what you've done, you've dragged the blade across the guy's neck.

As he gurgles on his blood and his friends shout obscenities at you, you walk around so you're standing before them once again.

"That's three of my men you've killed already," the President says. "I think fair's fair."

"I want the last one," you say. "One last guy and you're good to go."

No one says anything, but the President's expression hardens. There's a cold glint in his eye that you're very familiar with, and you know that should he walk out of these barn doors, he'll do anything and everything for revenge. "Samuel. I sent Samuel."

The Samuel in question squawks and you smile beautifully at him over the shoulder before staring at the President once more. "Harsh. Selling out your own guy like that." You saunter up to him, sighing. "But he's the thing; I hate snitches."

Then before the President can blink, you take aim and pull the trigger. The bullet hits him right between the eyebrows.

The struggling, bound men all seem to cease movement and you turn towards them. "Now that that's out of the way…" You walk back towards Samuel, scoffing at his whimpering. "You might get to live today, Sammy, but not without something to remember why messing with the Sons a big no-no."

"And w-what's that?"

You slowly smile. "Open your fist, Samuel. Lay your hand flat against the armrest."

His eyes widen as he whimpers, but he hesitantly does as you've said. Then when his hand is nice and flat, you drive your blade through the back of his hand, pinning it to the arm rest.

As he screams, you sneer at him and then start to make your way towards the Sons. On your way, you hand off your gun before coming to a stop in front of Jax and pasting on a smile as you glance at each Sons. "Who's hungry?"

"Marry me," Happy grumbles.

You laugh at him, winking, and then glance back at Jax. "You're a little psycho," he says.

"Only when the occasion calls for it. But seriously, can we go get food?"

Jax laughs as he sidles up to your side, sliding an arm along the back of your shoulders. "Do burgers sound good?"

"Burgers sound marvelous. I also want a vanilla milkshake."

"Good. We'll go grab some and surprise Abel. He's been itching to go to your house again."

"Ugh. Your kid is so adorable. But maybe let me settle in before you grab him. My abdomen is on fire and if we tell him I'm sick, maybe he won't be so hyperactive."

"Let me see."

Begrudgingly, you lift the hem of your shirt and glance down. Sure enough, you've bled through your bandages. "New plan; No Abel."

"What? But-"

"Nope." Jax squeezes you to his side as you sigh. "You're gonna go home, Chibs will follow to patch you up, and I'll go pick up some food. Abel can go one more day without seeing you."

"Boo."

The Sons chuckle.

"What about us?" Juice asks, gesturing between himself, Tig, and Happy.

"I don't care, Juice. Do whatever you want."

As they head towards their motorcycles, Jax walks you to your car.

"So, are you really okay with this?" You ask. "Okay with me and all that I'm capable of?"

"Yeah." Jax nods. "More than okay, actually. It's good to know that should shit find its way to your doorstep again, you'll handle it."

"Damn right I will." You swing around so you're standing in front of Jax, arms wrapping around his waist as his go around your shoulders. "I will protect Abel with my life again and again. Never doubt that."

"Just Abel?" His eyebrow arches.

"You're a close second," you muse. Leaning up on the tips of your toes, you peck his lips. "Now seriously. Food, Teller. I need food."

"Yeah, yeah." He kisses you again. "Go home and get settled. I'll be there soon."

[swarvey]

how they would propose | sdv bachelors x g/n!reader | part one

-> summary: in game, the farmer is always the one to present the mermaid's pendant to their lover — what if it was the other way around?

pt. 2

a/n: starting with half the boys, i'll be working on the rest of them + bachelorettes after ! i got a bit carried away with elliott's ... but can you blame me?

alex

carries the pendant around in his pocket for a week, hoping the right words will magically find him if he does

(they don't)

definitely the type to lock himself in the bathroom and stare at himself through the mirror while practicing what to say to you

decides to propose during a quiet walk in the evening so he has your full attention and all the time in the world to profess his love to you

alex swears his heart is about to fly out of his chest as the two of you walk hand in hand around pelican town, the sun long gone below the horizon. the street lamps guide the two of you, fireflies intermittently emitting gentle flashes of light.

he doesn't even realize you're expecting a response from him until you wave a hand in front of his face, moving in front of him so he's forced to look into your amused gaze.

"alex," you laugh, and his breath hitches, "are you listening? you look like you've been zoning out."

he musters an empty laugh back at you, internally panicking as he desperately tries to recall what you said. "what? me? no, i was just, uh . . ." think, alex, think! you can't mess up now! "i was thinking about gridball." he wants to smack himself.

"really?" you reply, raising your brows. "you're thinking about gridball, now? while i was talking to you about our anniversary coming up?"

shit.

his face pales, stopping in his tracks in the middle of the bridge near the museum. he groans, dropping your hand to run it through his hair — surely he can fix this, right?

"okay, cut the act," you say, worry beginning to show in your features. "is everything alright? what's bugging you?"

"nothing, really! it's just that, uh . . ." alex inhales a quick breath to prepare himself before grabbing both your hands in his. "you know i love you, right?"

"yes . . .," you trail off. you look at him with concerned eyes, beginning to look uneasy. "now i'm really worried—"

"no, no! just hear me out, alright?" you nod. "you know, before you moved here, my view on life was pretty boring," he admits. "all i really cared about was gridball and my grandparents. and dusty, of course, and i guess sam and haley, too—" he shakes his head, blush beginning to cover his cheeks. "whatever, you get what i'm trying to say, right?"

"i'm not entirely sure if i follow," you reply, smiling at how flustered he's gotten. "what are you getting at, alex?"

he sighs. "listen, you moving here was the best thing that ever happened to me. you've shown me there's tons more to life than whatever i was doing before, like giving random gifts to everyone in town just to make them happy, or being a badass and fighting off monsters!" you laugh, and he grins. "anyways, now that i've had a taste of what being with you is like, i don't think i'm willing to share."

your jaw drops as he reaches into his pocket and gets on one knee, opening his palm to reveal a mermaid's pendant.

"will you marry me, y/n? so i can spend the rest of my life learning more awesome stuff from you?"

he nearly collapses in relief when you nod, whooping in joy before engulfing you in a tight hug. after a few moments, he can't help but kiss you strongly, a hand cradling the back of your head with the other on the small of your back. you smile into the kiss, pulling away only to look into his teary, overjoyed eyes.

"aren't you forgetting something?" you tease, glancing down at the pendant that's still clutched in his hand.

"oh, right!" you bend your head forward as he places it around your neck, beaming at the sight.

you hold the jewel in your hand, adrenaline pumping through your blood. "looks like we'll have to plan a wedding," you say, happily pecking alex's cheek.

"yes, this is so great!" he exclaims as he jumps in excitement, unable to control himself. "alright, first, we gotta figure out where we're going to cater food from, but i know grams will want to bake our cake," he rambles, grabbing your hand as he practically starts to drag you home. "oooh, and we should totally ask sam and his band to play something for us! he knows all the songs we like, anyway. i think all the guys will help me get all dressed up, but i bet haley and the rest of the girls would go crazy over helping you pick out what to wear, they probably know better anyway—"

"alex," you interrupt, laughing at his antics, "relax. we'll figure all this out tomorrow. let's just go home." he nods.

"you're right, honey," he agrees, swinging your intertwined hands playfully. "i'm going to need all the rest i can get if i'm gonna spend all of tomorrow bragging about my engagement."

shane

leaves the pendant in his nightstand drawer and looks at it every night before he goes to sleep for nearly a month

he truly never thought he would get married — who would want to marry him, the town drunk?

regardless, the past year with you has proven otherwise, and he knows now there's no one else he wants by his side

he decides to do it quite impulsively one day, literally grabbing it from his drawer and walking to your farm

(marnie nearly faints in excitement when she sees him walk out with the mermaid's pendant in hand, while jas cheers him on)

shane starts to get nervous when he doesn't see you anywhere on the farm, making sure to double-check all the chicken coops and barns before heading toward your house. your pet runs up to him, sniffing the hand wrapped around the pendant curiously.

"got any advice?" he asks jokingly, though he doesn't receive an answer — just a tilted head and wide eyes. "guess this one's on me," he sighs, looking at the jewelry nervously.

"shane? is that you?"

shane nearly drops it as he quickly shoves his hands into his pockets, watching as you step out from your greenhouse. of course, he thinks, the one place i didn't check.

"what are you doing here?" you ask, smiling at his sudden appearance. you're wearing dirt-covered gloves and your hair is touseled and frizzy; shane thinks you're glowing. "dinner's not til later, isn't it? or else i'll need a little time to get ready."

"no, i thought i would stop by a little early," he says. "i had something i wanted to talk to you about, actually." you nod, taking off your gloves and putting them in your bag.

"of course, what's up?" you ask, looking at him with those damn eyes that he could never resist.

"we should get married," he states bluntly, excitement sending chills down his body.

he wants to kick himself as you stare at him, blinking twice before saying, "y-yeah, i guess we should."

he nods, swallowing. "it makes sense, y'know?" he reasons, suddenly avoiding your eyes. "we've been with each other for a while now, and things have been going pretty good." he pauses. "you've gotten me through a lot, you know that? i mean, before you got here, i didn't think anyone in this town gave a damn about me — but you obviously do, for whatever reason, so i'll spend the rest of my life trying my best to be the guy you see me as."

he takes the mermaid's pendant out from his pocket, sheepishly looking at you as he holds it. his eyes are watering with emotion, and by the looks of it, so are yours.

"so, what do you say, honey?" he asks softly. "will you marry me?"

"yes," you reply, smiling as he puts the necklace on you. he laughs in disbelief when he sees you wearing it, still in shock that this is his reality. you roll your eyes, pulling him in for a deep kiss. you cry out in surprise as he hugs you strongly and even lifts you off the ground slightly, his eyes brighter than you've ever seen them.

"i can hardly believe this is real," he sighs, pulling you into his side. "guess i did one thing right in my lifetime."

you slap his arm, resting your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes. "you definitely didn't plan this out, did you?"

"huh? what makes you think that?"

"you couldn't even wait until dinner to ask?" you joke. "i guess it wasn't really a question, either—" you laugh as he pokes your side to cut you off.

"don't forget, you're the one who said yes," he retorts, smiling nonetheless. "you're officially stuck with me."

elliott

oh, he's had the mermaid's pendant for months. pretty much since you two got together

he tried to keep it a secret, he really did, but by the time he actually decides to propose, the rest of the bachelors and bachelorettes know

still, he wants the proposal to be for you and you only, so he plans on asking you during an evening picnic dinner on the beach

that doesn't stop him from asking his friends for some help, though

"is this really necessary?" sebastian questions, placing a candle into the sand and creating a pathway to the picnic blanket near the water.

"i think it's romantic," leah sighs, handing him another candle from the box in her arms. "he's been planning and buying all this stuff for weeks now. plus, candlelight always makes things more magical."

"i'm sure the moon will be bright enough tonight to add some 'magic.'"

"the light itself is not our concern, my friend," elliott says, wrapping an arm around seb — who scowls at the contact, but decides to let him get away with it just this once — and waving his arm to show off their setup. "i need this beach to represent a scene of pure love and endearment tonight, for my beloved deserves no less than a proposal for the century!"

"right," seb monotones. "well, the candles are all set up, so i'm heading to the shade."

"you want the speakers over here, el?" sam calls out, holding up one of his wireless speakers at the entrance of the beach.

"i've got one over here, too!" abigail yells from behind the cabin.

"perfect!" elliott replies, grinning as the setting he's been picturing finally comes together. he waves goodbye as everyone begins to head home, turning to the only part of his plan left untouched — the picnic blanket. i suppose the rest is up to me.

-

"are you ready, my dear?"

"elliott, i've been ready for the past twenty minutes," you say, playfully smacking the hands covering your eyes. "can i look now?" he laughs before finally lowering his arms, watching lovingly as your eyes widen at the setting in front of you.

"shall we?" he asks, holding his arm out. you gladly hold on to him as the two of you make your way down the beach, in awe at the candles lighting your way.

"i must be dreaming," you say, shaking your head. "how did you—? wait, where's the music coming from?" you realize soft acoustic music is playing throughout the beach, feeling as if you're in a movie scene.

"ah, that? i asked sam and abigail if i could borrow their speakers," elliott explains proudly. "i also recruited leah and sebastian to help me create this enchanting path."

you laugh. "let me guess, you asked alex and haley to distract me and bring me to the library?" your jaw dropped. "no, and you asked maru and penny to get lunch with me? all so i wouldn't come to find you?"

"i had a feeling my darling would venture to my whereabouts, so i requested the help of our colleagues to keep you away. though i'm sure it was difficult for you, i wanted this to be a surprise," he admits, smiling at you. "do you . . . like it?" he asks quietly, a bit scared he had done too much.

"elliott, this is more than anything i could have asked for," you say, warmth coating your words. "what's the occasion?"

he sighs in relief before replying, "have i ever needed a measly excuse to spoil you, dear?"

"i suppose not," you agree amusedly, recalling all the times you've returned home to a bouquet sitting on your porch.

finally, the two of you reach the end of the path, sitting together on the blanket. a big basket covered with a cloth sits at the center of it, as well as two plates, utensils, and your favorite food.

you shake your head. "this is ridiculous," you state, looking at elliott with big eyes. "how long have you been planning this?"

he hums in thought as he plates your food, pushing it towards you. "that, my dear, is none of your concern," he says, "though, i will say it took quite a bit of strategy. and money," he jokingly adds.

after the two of you eat, elliott hands the basket over to you, trying his very best to contain himself.

"i thought it'd be fitting to get you some gifts," he states, as you begin to uncover its contents one by one.

inside, you find a framed version of your favorite photo with him, a hand-painted mug, a poem, and—

you gasp. "are those rubies?" you ask, a couple red stones glittering at the top of the basket. you pick them up, realizing they're matching keychains.

"courtesy of emily," elliott explains. he hesitates, breathing out lightly before continuing. "rubies signify love and passion, you know, as well as good luck and prosperity."

you laugh lightly, holding up the keychains to the moonlight to see them shine. "perfect, should work wonders for us and the farm—"

"they also symbolize weddings."

you blink, gently setting down the gems as you look at him. he holds out the mermaid's pendant he has been patiently keeping for you, eyes already shining with tears as you gasp.

"y/n, the time we have spent together has been by far the best of my entire life," he starts, "and when i look to the future, i'm afraid i cannot picture one without you walking by my side. you are, and always will be, the love of my life, my shining light, my fairy book tale. you, my love, are my happy ending.

"so, will you do me the honors and marry me?"

you jump into his arms as soon as he finishes speaking, both of you laughing as he happily holds you.

"yes, elliott, of course!" you exclaim. he grins as he holds your face in his hands, covering your face in kisses before finally landing on your lips. your hands run through his hair before you fall backward, elliott landing on top of you with his hand cradling your head. you peck his nose, and he laughs once more before helping you sit up.

"here, let us celebrate with some wine!" he decides, grabbing two bottles he had left in the corner. "shane and harvey said these were the best the winery had to offer."

"you really got the whole town in on this, huh?" you tease, barely containing yourself as he helps you put on the jewelry.

he rubs the back of his head, slightly embarrassed. "well, it began with leah, and i thought it wouldn't hurt to tell harvey, but then of course i had to tell—" he stops himself. "secrecy has never been one of my strong suits, has it, love?"

you shake your head, leaning into his arm as you listen to the sound of the music mixing with the crashing of the waves.

"don't worry," you reassure, and he looks down at you with nothing but love in his gaze. "you have plenty of other traits to make up for it."

[stervrucht]

[AO3]

David Bowie plays on the radio and Steve drums his fingers along the steering wheel of his car as he contemplates. He is truly too good for this world. Now he is running errands for Dustin like some common soccer mom. The kid only had to give him one pout – one! – and Steve felt all his resistance crumbling. So, there he is on a Friday evening, seated in his still-running car in a Hawkin’s trailer park.

He stops his car in front of Eddie’s trailer and listens to the music as he gathers the willpower to leave the car.

Laughed at his long black hair, his animal grace, Bowie sings on the radio. 

How fitting

Outside, dusk is setting in and the world colors purple. Closing up Family Video had taken longer than he anticipated due to a difficult customer who couldn’t decide between The Thing and The Nightmare on Elm Street and had asked Steve extensive questions to make up his mind. 

Steve used to be fine with horror movies, but given recent developments (give or take his life the past few years), he isn’t into horror anymore. Out of the two, The Thing is probably the worst offender. Those crazy fleshy monsters hit a bit too close to home. Although, Freddie Krueger does have some vague Vecna vibes to him.

Steve is so lost in thought he doesn't notice the door of the trailer open until Eddie knocks on his window with his knuckle. With a jolt, Steve turns to roll his car window down. Once it is fully open, Eddie leans forward, his arms resting on the car.

“Sup Harrington.” Eddie’s hair falls forward and the low-cut tank top reveals his chest, framed by the silver chain of a guitar-pick necklace. 

Shaved, Steve notes.  Then, realizing he is staring, he tears his eyes away, coming face to face with Eddie Munson who gives him an amused look.

“Oh uh, right” – Steve coughs nervously – “Dustin asked me to give you this…” he unbuckles his seatbelt and leans over to the passenger seat where he grabs the cardboard box of some nerdy game.

“Here–” He hands the box to Eddie’s outstretched hands.

“Hell yeah, Talisman. Took Henderson long enough.” Eddie pushes himself away from the car and inspects the box for a moment. When he turns back to Steve, his eyes move towards the car radio.

“I didn’t take you for a Bowie fan.”

“Oh, I’m not really … Robin must have left it in. It’s … alright, I suppose.” 

“And what type of music does Steve find more than alright?” 

Eddie flashes him a cheeky smile and Steve finds himself somewhat intimidated. Whatever his answer, someone like Eddie will probably find it lame. Steve isn’t all that passionate about music anyway and mostly listens to whatever is on the radio.

“Maybe Queen, The Bee Gees…” he lists in no particular order.

Eddie tuts. “Such a proper boy.”

Although he expects it, Steve still winces.

“I should introduce you to some real music,” Eddie says thoughtfully, then – “Wanna come in?”

Steve takes a moment to think. His parents are out, so it isn’t like he’s expected at home. He has nothing to do tonight except watch some movies (perks of the job). Although the prospect of hanging out with Eddie doesn’t thrill him, it might be the more interesting option.

“Sure,” Steve turns his car off, rolls the window back up and opens the car door. Eddie takes a step back, giving Steve some room to get out. 

Eddie’s eyes move to his chest and Steve realizes he is still wearing the stupid Family Video vest. He quickly takes it off, crumples it and unceremoniously throws it in his car before shutting the door again. With a quick turn of his key, the car is locked.

Steve follows Eddie towards the trailer. It is a warm summer’s night and the shadows of the trees grow long under the purple sky. The trailer park is surrounded by ample woods and fields from which the sound of crickets flares up.

“You coming?” Eddie waits for him at the door. Steve doesn’t realize he stopped moving and quickly makes his way to where Eddie is standing.

“After you, King Steve,” Eddie says, holding open the door with a dramatic bow.

Damn, Eddie is kind of annoying, isn’t he? No wonder Dustin gets on so well with him. Two peas in a pod. Steve lets out an unamused scoff.

Once inside, Steve stands in the middle of the…living room? Kitchen? He isn’t sure what to call such multifunctional rooms. He crosses his arms and shifts his weight from one leg to the other as he waits for Eddie to put the game away.

The main room is crowded and messy. It is the complete opposite of his parents’ living room, which is kept meticulously clean and organized – with the help of their cleaning lady of course. The coffee table is stained with water circles from mugs and the like. Something unthinkable to Steve. If he ever puts a glass down without a coaster, he will face his mother’s wrath.

“Beer?” Eddie calls from the kitchen. He already turned his back to him to make his way to the under-table fridge.

“Sure.” 

Steve is getting sick of standing around and decides to move to the small beige sofa. It is littered with clothes and after a moment of hesitation, he shoves them aside and sits down.

“You’re fucking tense,” Eddie says as he hands Steve a can of beer. He looks down at the pile of clothes and without hesitation grabs them and throws them in a different corner of the room. Then he lets himself fall onto the sofa next to Steve, which objects with a loud creak.

The sofa really is quite small and granted, a bigger one probably wouldn’t fit. The middle of it sagged considerably too, dragging its occupants to the center.

Steve feels the warmth of Eddie’s jeans-clad legs against his own. They are probably sitting a bit too close and Steve shifts uncomfortably in his seat. 

The can lets out an audible hiss as Eddie opens it and takes a quick sip from his beer. Then, he puts it down on the table and jumps up again.

“Fuck, I was gonna play you some music.” He hurries past the kitchen into a separate room. 

Steve opens his own can – cheap store-brand beer – and takes a nervous gulp as he waits for Eddie to return.

He is starting to reconsider his choices this evening. Perhaps he should just have watched Back to the Future again. Instead, he is in the trailer of some guy he kinda-sorta knows because they have shared custody of some annoying kid (one of Steve’s best friends).

“Oh yes, this will be good.” Eddie re-emerges cradling a few cassettes in his arms like he is holding a baby. He squats in front of the coffee table and releases the collection of plastic cases on top of it. Steve eyes the contents, but he recognises none of it. Then he looks over at Eddie – the flesh of his knee peeks through the hole of his jeans and Steve wonders if Eddie made it himself or if it had naturally torn by use. 

Eddie shifts through the cassettes with ring-clad fingers, picking a few up and turning them around to look at the back of the plastic cases.

“Let’s start with Rainbow,” he mumbles to himself, grabbing the cassette (a hand holding a rainbow over mountains on its front). He walks over to a small side table next to the front door where an old-school cassette player stands.

With a loud click, the front of the cassette player opens and Eddie puts the cassette in and closes it again. Immediately, music starts playing.

“Fuck, hold on.”

Eddie rushes over to the kitchen, rummaging through some drawers until he finds what he is looking for.

Victoriously, he holds up a pencil to Steve and clicks his tongue. Steve takes another gulp of his beer as he watches Eddie move through the trailer with a skip in his step. He is actually excited to let Steve hear his music. Steve feels strangely flattered and he lets himself fall back on the sofa. 

The music stops and Eddie takes the cassette out. Using the back of the pencil, he rewinds the tape. Steve looks at Eddie’s hands as he works. The rings are kinda cool. Maybe he should let Robin pick out a ring for him too. Although perhaps not with skulls and crosses like Eddie wears. Maybe something more simple, like a signet ring or something.

Steve is pulled from his thoughts when he hears the cassette player click shut again. 

“Your player doesn’t rewind?” Steve asks.

“Steve” – Eddie puts the pencil behind his ear and turns to look at him – “I live in a trailer…”

Steve feels heat rise to his cheeks. 

Shit, sometimes he forgets his parents are very well off and some things are considered luxuries instead of the default. He made the same mistake with Robin too – multiple times – but it was hard to prevent. He thinks back on his car – not particularly expensive, but also not as beat-up as Jonathan’s. Does Eddie think he is some spoiled rich boy?

“Right, sorry.” Steve takes another mouthful of beer. Eddie turns around again to put the cassette in the cassette player. 

A song begins to play, the sound reminds Steve of something alien – not really like music at all. Once the drums kicks in Eddie begins to bob his head on the beat, his hands hitting an invisible drum. He dances across the room, drumming his invisible drumsticks along the wall before falling back onto the sofa, stringing his fingers as if playing a guitar.

“Shit, I should really learn this on the guitar.” He leans forward to grab his can of beer. Condensation forms on the outside and when he picks it up, a wet circle is left on the table.

Eddie kicks his feet up, white sneakers hitting the wood of the coffee table and the cassettes rattle. He takes a deep swig of his beer and audibly sighs. 

Steve leans forward, arms resting on his thighs and can between his knees. Once the music actually began, it wasn’t too bad. He didn’t understand the long intros though, and preferred it if music would just start.

“So, what do you think?” Eddie asks.

“Not bad.”

“Not bad” – Eddie scoffs – “You, my friend, have not been exposed to nearly enough good music.”

Steve chuckles. “I thought Bowie was pretty acceptable by –” he looks Eddie up and down demonstratively, “ – your kind.”

“My kind, huh?” a smile plays at the corners of Eddie’s lips. “And what would that be, exactly?” 

Well, shit. Steve drove himself straight into possible-insult town. Eddie eyes him curiously, one elbow resting on the sofa’s backrest and his hands holding his can in a way Steve could only describe as cool. 

“Well, you know…” he trails off.

“I know…?”

“Eh, metalheads, I guess?”

“Ziggy Stardust isn’t metal, you know that right?”

Steve sighs exasperatedly. “I know, ugh. I mean he’s–”

“Weird?” Eddie finishes.

Steve takes another gulp of beer, desperate to compose himself. “Yeah,” he answers lamely.

“I suppose he’s pretty weird, huh?” Eddie eyes the ceiling of the trailer while taking a lazy sip from his beer. “Did you know he used to be gay?”

Steve looks to Eddie, who is still eying the ceiling, head lying back against the sofa’s backrest. 

“Used to be?” If Steve is to believe Robin, there is no ‘used to be ’ when it comes to being gay. You either are or you aren’t. Now he thinks about it, Bowie seems somewhat queer with his tight suits and styled hair, but that is what girls dig, isn't it? He has heard countless girls swoon over men just like that.

“You never had a gay phase, Harrington?” 

Steve nearly drops his can.

“Gay….phase?”

“You know, live a little, try some shit, see what sticks –”

“I can’t say I have,” Steve mumbles, his eyes now firmly fixed on the can in his hands. He plays nervously with the lip, pulling it in tandem with the music before taking another sip.

“With a pretty face like yours, you might actually get some good ones.”

Steve chokes on his beer. Actually chokes, and he hits his chest with a fist to get himself to breathe again.

“W-what?”

“How can you know what you like when you never tried it?” Eddie sits up straight, pulling one leg to his chest as he turns to Steve. His dark eyes seem like a bottomless lake and Steve feels small under his gaze.

“H-have you?” Steve stutters and it is utterly embarrassing. Why is he so rattled by some stupid revelation? 

Wait, did Eddie just call him pretty?

Eddie smirks at him like they are sharing in a secret, and perhaps they are.

“Fuck yes, if someone tells me not to do something you can bet your ass I will do it. Besides, humans are humans, big fucking deal.” 

“So – was it a phase? In your case?” Steve asks carefully. He isn’t really sure why he asks. Maybe it is part curiosity. He never seriously considered relationships with men. Some are nice enough to look at, sure, but marriage, a house, children – that is only meant for a man and a woman right? A world in which someone just casually tries homosexuality seems…foreign. 

“Hm, I guess so … Wow, don’t look at me like that Harrington. Are you disappointed?”

“W-what, no!” Steve really doesn’t know why he is getting so flustered. He suddenly feels self-conscious under Eddie’s piercing eyes and runs a hand through his hair – a nervous habit.

“Fuck, you are – well, alright, maybe for you I can arrange an encore.”

Before Steve has time to respond, Eddie pushes himself upright and leans one knee on the sofa between Steve’s legs. He feels the cold metal of Eddie’s rings under his chin as he lays a sprawled hand on his throat and tilts his head. 

Steve freezes, air caught in his chest as Eddie leans over his face, his breath hot on his lips. Steve’s right hand uselessly holds on to the near-empty can – afraid to spill it – while his left hand digs into the sofa next to his thighs. Then, Eddie leans down, capturing his lips with practiced ease. Steve feels his long hair tickle his cheeks and the scruff of a five-o-clock shadow grace his chin. 

Eddie’s lips move over his, slightly chapped and rough in a way that couldn’t possibly be a girl. Without meaning to, Steve feels his own lips move against Eddie’s. 

Well, now he couldn't pretend it was just something happening to him. He had graduated to an active participant. 

Kissing Eddie Munson. Eddie freaking Munson.  

Robin was going to have a field day.

Perhaps the most surprising part is how he doesn’t hate it. He likes the feeling of stubble on his chin, the hard corners of Eddie’s jaw, the way Eddie pushes him back onto the sofa and he wills Steve’s mouth open with a sweep of a thumb and the cold metal of rings on his face. A hot tongue explores his mouth, stroking it against Steve’s in a way that makes him gasp.

Steve has never experienced anything like it. Usually with the girls he dated, he took the lead. Kisses were usually shy and timid. Eddie is completely different. He knows what he wants and he isn’t afraid to get it. Steve feels something stir in him as he presses back.

Eddie bites his bottom lip, taking it between his lips, and breaks away from him. Steve feels breathless and blinks up at Eddie. His hand reaches over to Steve’s right side, gently taking the can from his hand and setting it away on the coffee table. He turns back, eyes dark and Steve wills his mouth close as he regards him. 

Was he gay? Shit, he doesn’t really want to think about it now. Humans are humans was what Eddie had said right?

Steve reaches out, sliding his hands behind Eddie’s neck, and pulls him back. Eddie moves himself into a more comfortable position, placing a knee on either side of Steve’s thighs and straddling him. Eddie’s hands reach for Steve’s temples, threading themselves through Steve’s hair – rings catch on the strands but Steve doesn’t mind the painful sting as it pulls. He just wants to get Eddie’s lips back on his – and so he does.

Their lips meet, fiery and hot. Open-mouthed Steve explores every corner of Eddie. He lowers his hands to Eddie’s back, playing on the edge of his tanktop and the hot skin underneath. If it works for girls, surely it works for guys too right?

He runs his hands up the side of Eddie’s chest, a thumb over a nipple, and Eddie gasps into his mouth. Steve feels heat settle in his crotch and he is glad he chose to wear jeans made of thick fabric rather than thin trousers. Steve’s hands move over Eddie’s chest, feeling the smooth muscle of it and the roughness of regrowing chest hair.

Eddie’s fingers reach the hair on the back of Steve’s head and yank it back, exposing Steve’s throat. He lets out a surprised yelp when he feels Eddie’s mouth latch to the delicate bow of his neck and suck. 

Steve is learning a lot about himself in the span of less than an hour. The way Eddie tugs his hair, and has his way with him is sending a pleasant jolt straight to his cock.  And Steve can’t help but moan under the ministrations of Eddie’s mouth as he sucks and bites. 

“Y-you’re gonna leave a mark,” Steve breathes.

“That’s the plan,” Eddie mouths against his neck. Then, he licks his way up into Steve’s mouth again.

Shit, he is kinda into this. Steve isn’t sure how he could ever go back to girls now he knows what it feels like to be touched by calloused fingers and kissed with such force. 

Eddie’s hand leaves his hair and travels down to the rim of his jeans, pulling out his shirt in the process. Steve feels the ghost of fingers running along its edge and the muscles in his stomach tense pleasantly in response.

Eddie breaks away from him, his breath ghosting over his lips as he searches Steve’s eyes. 

“You wanna take this further?” Eddie asks, his eyes flitting over Steve’s face.

Steve feels drunk, even though half a can of beer isn’t nearly enough to even get him close to being buzzed. He is also turned on. Ridiculously so. But fuck, what does taking it further even mean in this context. Steve feels like a virgin all over again and shifts uncomfortably in his seat, trying to hide his arousal from Eddie.

Not that they are not actively engaged anymore, anxiety hits Steve like a bag of bricks.

“Uhh…” is all Steve manages to utter.

Eddie throws himself off Steve’s lap onto the empty spot next to him on the sofa. He puts his feet on the table again, hands behind his head.

“You’re right, maybe that’s enough for tonight.” 

It doesn’t escape Steve that Eddie’s jeans look a little tighter than usual.

They sit in silence for a moment, only the voice of Rainbow’s singer cutting through the tension. 

“I thought you said it was a phase,” Steve asks after he finally gets his breathing under control.

“Oh right, I should have clarified” – Eddie grins up at the ceiling – “The gay thing was a phase. I figured I was into both.”

Both? Wasn’t that something only hippies preached with their free love? Somewhere, Steve feels a wave of relief washes over him. He never seriously considered someone could like both. He has some serious soul-searching to do once he gets home.

“Huh,” is all Steve replies. Eddie’s eyebrow quirks in interest as he side-eyes Steve.

“I, uh…probably should get going.” Steve puts his hands on his thighs and pushes himself up. Eddie doesn’t move from his position, but his eyes follow him with interest.

“If you’re ever in the mood for a sequel, you know where to find me.” 

Steve nods, because what else can you do in reply to such a comment? He is baffled at the ease with which the words escape Eddie. There is no shame or self-doubt.

As he lays his hand on the door handle, Steve looks back one final time. Eddie’s feet are bouncing in tandem with the beat of the drums and his eyes are closed. He looks so absolutely unshaken by their encounter that Steve feels almost jealous.

Steve is anything but unshaken.

“See you around,” he offers.

“See you, Harrington,” Eddie’s voice is playful, even though he doesn’t move.

When Steve is safe and sound in the driver’s seat of his car, he leans his head against the steering wheel and stays there for a moment. 

What the hell just happened?

He turns his mirror to his neck and traces the hickey that Eddie left on his throat with a finger. He would have to ask Robin for some make-up to cover that up. 

She is going to love this story.

Steve sighs and pushes the mirror back into its original position. When he starts the car, Bowie continues to sing like nothing happened.

Yes, he was alright, his song went on forever, Bowie sings and Steve groans as he hits the gas.

***

It is Saturday morning when Steve walks up to the Buckley residence. He passes the garden fence and walks around the house to the backdoor.

Hawkins was struck by the beginning of a heatwave and at this point, the temperature was bearable as long as one didn't move too much. The perfect day for a visit to the pool, but too hot for videos. 

Which is why Steve is sure today won’t be too busy at Family Video. Fine by him. 

The quiet days he works with Robin are always his favorite. Sometimes Henderson comes over – either with his friends or alone – and they mess around with the cardboard cut-outs or watch a movie on the little TV screen hanging from the ceiling. Steve has zero regrets about missing out on college. Everything he loves is right here in Hawkins.

He pulls at the red handkerchief around his neck. It is against company policy to wear scarves (and probably too hot too) but Steve needs something to cover up the damage of his little adventure with Eddie. At least, until he gets his hands on some skin paint stuff – or whatever girls call that type of make-up.

He enters through the backdoor straight into the kitchen, where he finds Robin’s mother clearing the table of breakfast plates. The room smells faintly like toast.

“Morning, Ms. Buckley!” he calls, already moving towards the hallway. Steve hears her respond, but he's halfway up the stairs by then.

“Rob!”

“Just a second!” Her voice is muffled. She opens her door, fixing an earring. Her eyes flick to his scarf before meeting his gaze.

“Geez, you’re early.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve walks straight past her and throws himself on her unmade bed.  Robin pays him no mind and she walks over to her dresser again. From his spot on the bed, Steve can see Robin's face reflected in the mirror as she fusses with her hair. When she reaches for a pouch, Steve is suddenly reminded of why he is early to begin with. 

“Do you have that face-stuff?” he asks as he sees Robin pull a pencil from the pouch.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific than ‘face stuff’.”

“You know, the skin-colored goo.” Steve makes motions over his face as if he’s painting.

“Concealer?” Robin’s mouth is open in concentration as she lines her waterline with black.

“That’s it!” Steve throws himself off the bed and walks over to Robin.

“Sure, I’ve got some,” Robin puts down her pencil and rummages through the pouch again. She pulls out a small beige bottle and holds it up for Steve. He reaches for it, but Robin pulls away.

“Does this have anything to do with your avant-garde fashion statement today?” She looks at his scarf again.

Steve laughs sheepishly and pulls his scarf aside. Robin’s eyes widen at the dark hickey on his neck.

“Jesus, Steve! It’s massive” – she leans in closer – “Was it Rebecca? Never thought she’d be the type...” Robin reaches for his neck but Steve pulls away.

“What? No!” – Steve lets go of the scarf – “I stopped seeing her like five weeks ago. Get with the times, Rob.”

“Well, sorry I can’t keep up with your busy love life.” Robin turns back to the mirror. She definitely isn’t sorry and Steve wouldn’t exactly call the origin of the hickey ‘love’. A lapse of judgment, maybe, or something uniquely in the corner of Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson. 

“Can I get the stuff now?”

“Fine,” she says and she pushes the bottle in his hands.

***

Outside the car, the world passes in a flash of yellow fields. The windows are down and the scent of drying grass fills the air. Steve turns the music up to drown out the thundering sound of the wind as it enters the car and drums his fingers on the steering wheel while he uselessly mouths along with the music. He doesn’t know the lyrics, but that can’t stop him. The fact it annoys Robin when he does so makes it even more fun in his opinion.

“You’re in a good mood,” Robin remarks while she digs through her bag.

“It’s a beautiful day and I’m working with my best friend,” Steve chirps.

“Uhuh, right,” she replies skeptically. She puts her bag back between her legs on the car floor and fiddles with something in her hands.

Steve’s eyes are focused on the road before him when the music suddenly stops.

“Hey! I was listening to that!”

“I thought you said Bowie was ‘overrated trash’” Robin says while opening the case to another cassette. 

“I didn’t,”

“You so did, and you called his pants too tight,”

“Whatever, driver decides,” 

Robin sighs and pushes the cassette back in. “When I get my license, it will be Blondie all day every day. You better prepare yourself, dingus!”

Steve hums in satisfaction as the music comes back on. Maybe he found it somewhat grating in the beginning, but it was growing on him now. That, of course, had nothing to do with Eddie Munson.

“Did you know he used to be gay?” Steve suddenly says.

“Bisexual, Steve, and of course I know that. The question is, why do you?” From his periphery, he can see Robin staring at him.

“I just heard it somewhere,”

“Somewhere…” Robin repeated. She leans over to put the other cassette back in her bag. 

Steve is relieved when he sees Family Video come into view. It’s not like Robin will forget their conversation, she is far too smart for that. And he really does plan on telling her about what happened yesterday, he just has to find the right moment. Hell, maybe it wouldn’t even be today. 

Steve pulls into the parking space and hops out of the car. He locks his door and throws the keys over the car to Robin. She fumbles in her attempt to catch it and Steve is once again reminded that Robin is a band dweeb and not an athlete.

“Let’s open this baby up,” he says as he tosses the store keys into the air and catches them overhand.

“You’re such a show-off” – she walks past Steve into the store and continues without looking back – “For your information, there are no girls around…”

“Yet,” Steve finishes and Robin groans in response.

There wouldn’t be any girls around for most of the day as it turned out. 

As Steve expected, it was a slow day. The only people who visited were those who probably wouldn’t be found dead sunbathing, nerds who never stepped outside (except to rent a video, apparently), and old people looking for something nice to watch with their grandkids. 

Somewhere between the shelves, Robin is putting returned VHS tapes into their rightful place. Meanwhile, Steve sorts through new arrivals and adds them to the computer system. In the back of the shop,  a guy has been staring at some science fiction movies for probably half an hour by now. Category basement nerd, Steve decides.

They had been working in relative solitude. Steve looks up as he hears the bell signal someone’s entrance. He is greeted with a curly head of hair.

“Henderson!” Steve stands up and throws himself over the counter. The secret handshake is a must and cannot be skipped. 

Shake, box, Star Wars sword thing, guts.

Dustin smiles wildly at him. 

Just as Steve is spilling his guts, the bell chimes again. He looks up, readying himself to apologize to the poor customer he has no doubt scared off with his wild gestures when he comes face to face with dark bottomless eyes.

“Munson,” Steve is probably gawking, at least a little and Eddie looks amused at the scene in front of him.

Dustin, oblivious to it all, immediately starts talking. 

“I was just about to grab my bike when I ran into Eddie. He offered me a ride in his van. Mom’s at the pool today, says it’s too hot to stay indoors; she practically kicked me out of the house,”

“Right,” Steve wasn’t even looking at Dustin as he yapped on. He somehow couldn’t tear his eyes away from Eddie’s. It was strange seeing him in daylight now. The darkness of dusk had made their whole interaction the night prior seem like a dream. Now, face to face with Eddie, Steve was hit by the reality of what had transpired. He felt profoundly awkward.

“ – You should totally get a van, Steve!” Dustin’s voice pulls Steve from his thoughts and he tears his eyes away.

“Y-yeah, probably not. I like my car,” he composed himself, deciding to focus his attention on Dustin rather than Eddie.

“Hey Dustin”  – Robin walks from behind the shelves, carrying a now-empty crate. Her eyes land on Eddie with a hint of surprise – “Hey Eddie,”

“Got anything good yet?” Dustin asks Robin eagerly.

“You’re in luck–” Robin says as she puts the crate away, “We just added The Dark Crystal to our collection,”

“Sweet!” He hears Dustin call when Robin leads him away to one of the shelves in the back.

Steve is left alone with Eddie and doesn’t know how to compose himself. A part of him feels nervous under Eddie’s dark gaze. 

Eddie walks over to the counter and leans against it.

“Cool gig,” Eddie says as he looks around the store. “Do you ever get to keep the cardboard cut-outs?” Eddie points his finger at a life-size cut-out of Indiana Jones that stands proudly at the front of the store. Steve’s eyes involuntary drift back to his fingers again and he really ought to stop that. Sooner or later, Eddie will catch him staring.

“I don’t, but Keith does sometimes,” 

“Sweet,”

A silence falls between them and Eddie kicks his feet. The guy in the back still hasn’t made up his mind and a little distance away Dustin is eagerly explaining something about the ‘Gelflings’ to Robin.

“Hey, uh, are you doing anything next Friday?” Eddie asks suddenly. 

“Nothing yet,” Steve is desperately trying to stop his heart from beating at such an insistent pace and he hopes his voice comes out as nonchalant as he intends it to.

“You wanna…I don’t know…hang out or something?”

‘ Or something’. What does ‘or something’ mean ?

“Yeah, I– …yeah, sure” Steve fumbles a bit, but Eddie doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe he doesn’t care. A smile grows on his face.

“Cool,” Eddie says.

He pushes himself away from the counter and walks up to a shelf to inspect some of the movies. He leans forward, shifting his weight to the balls of his feet, and hums a song that sounds vaguely familiar. Steve stares at the interlaced fingers behind his back – adorned with silver rings – and shivers at the memory of their coolness against his neck.

“Cool,” Steve echoes.

***

The whole week, Steve had thought of countless excuses to cancel hanging out with Eddie on Friday, but in the end, none of them carried any weight. He couldn’t get Eddie of his freaking mind and the sappy romance movies that played on the television screen at work didn’t help either.

Eddie had visited Family Video again – once – with Dustin to return a movie. Apparently, they regularly hung out when Steve was busy at work and he felt something akin to jealousy. He had always been Dustin’s role model. Heck, the kid even started wearing his hair like him (thank you, Farrah Fawcett). That was until Eddie somehow inserted himself into the equation. Now, Dustin had grown out his hair and was wearing that ridiculous Hellfire shirt religiously; so often, Steve sometimes wondered if it was ever washed at all. 

Eddie had corrupted him, and maybe he had corrupted Steve a little bit as well.

“You seem nervous,” Robin remarks as she flips through a folder, biting in the back of a ballpen. 

“Well, I’m no–” Before Steve can finish his sentence, Robin continues.

“I haven’t heard you talk about your dates the whole week. Whoever gave you that ridiculous hickey has some serious hold over you –”

Steve feels his shoulders tense. The idea of Eddie having any kind of hold over him was crazy. Steve is cool, Steve is casual. Steve is definitely not nervous about his casual hangout with Eddie tonight.

“ –It’s Friday, aren’t you supposed to be on like three different dates tonight?” she continues.

“Uhm, well–”

“And you’ve been acting weird all week. Things are adding up to a very weird sum. The ‘buying thirty watermelons’ kind of weird sum.”

“You have such a way with words,” Steve rolls his eyes as he finally regains his composure.

“Steve!” Robin throws her pen at his head. He ducks, but the pen hits him anyway.

“Robin!” he mimics her tone.

“It’s someone’s mom, isn’t it? God, Steve–” Robin pulls a face in disgust.

“It’s not someone’s mom! Geez, Rob, what kind of person do you take me for?”

“The kind that acts all mysterious and weird, and suddenly listens to music he hates!”

Maybe going out of his way to buy a Rainbow cassette had been somewhat uncharacteristic. Of course, Robin would pick up on that.

“A guy can expand his tastes…” he trails, hit by the ambiguity of his statement.

Robin sighs, picks up her pen from the floor and gives him an irritated glance. 

Steve hears the bell chime just as he closes the door to the vault in which they store cash overnight. It is only a couple of minutes before closing time and Steve grunts audibly as he raises himself into a standing position. Entering a shop this close to closing time is a certified dick move and Steve is not above sending whoever entered away, customer service be damned. 

“We’re closed!” he yells as he walks back into the shop from the backroom. 

“Eddie’s here for you,” Robin calls without looking back at Steve. 

Sure enough, Eddie is standing at the counter. He is wearing a tank top and his hair is pulled up into a messy bun; his skin gleams with sweat from the heat outside and around his neck hangs a wiry set of headphones. Wind from the air conditioner pulls at his hair. When their eyes meet, a smile creeps on his face.

“Sup, Harrington…I’ve brought the van.” He holds the keys up demonstratively, dangling them from his index finger.

"He brought the van!" Robin exclaims looking back at Steve, her eyebrows raised and a sly smile playing on her lips. Steve can almost see the moment of realization dawn upon her as if a lightbulb had been switched on in her mind.

Steve scratches the back of his head. “I promised Robin a ride back–” 

“No problem, We’ll drop her off. I’ll bring you back to pick up your car later.” 

Steve casts Robin a quick glance and she shrugs in response.

“If Robin’s fine with it…” he trails.

“A van,” Robin whispers as Steve joins her at the counter and elbows him in his arm.

Steve rolls his eyes at her, but still can’t fight the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth.

***

Twigs crack under Steve’s shoes as he follows Eddie through the forest. The canopy of the trees offers ample shadow and Steve finds the heat more bearable here than when they had been walking alongside the road. Still, his shirt clings to his back and sweat is slicking his hair as Steve runs a hand through it. 

When Eddie asked him to hang out, he didn’t expect they would be hiking through the forest behind the trailer park during a freaking heatwave. 

He looks over to Eddie. His bangs cling to his forehead and the veins on his arms are thick as his body fights to keep cool. Despite the oppressive heat, there's a glint of excitement in Eddie's eyes.

“There it is.” Eddie stops and looks somewhere in the distance. Steve squints and follows Eddie’s gaze. Between the trees, he can see the shimmer of water, and he realizes Eddie has taken them to Lover’s lake. 

When they near the water, Eddie ups his pace, stepping around some of the bigger rocks and boulders near the lake’s edge like he has done it a thousand times before. Steve tries to keep up, but his unfamiliarity with the landscape slows him down.

At last, he is standing on the pebbled lakeside. The sun is already lowering itself into the embrace of dusk and Steve thinks they have maybe two hours of light left before sundown. He looks to his right where he sees Eddie standing above a pile of wood. When he gets closer, Steve realizes it is actually an old stranded fisher’s boat.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Eddie remarks.

Steve looks the boat over. It’s medium sized and some of its wood has rotted away. A good portion of it is covered in graffiti, and half of it sits in the water. It has probably been there for years.

“You bring all your conquests here?” Steve asks as he watches Eddie climb onto the boat. The question is mostly meant to be lighthearted, yet he feels a sense of anticipation as he waits for Eddie to reach the deck. 

Eddie squats and looks down on him. “Nah, just you.” 

Somehow, those words make Steve’s heart flutter and his cheeks heat up. He quickly looks away, pretending to search for footing to scale the boat.

When Steve reaches the deck, Eddie is sitting cross-legged facing the lake. 

“This is a nice place,” Steve says, sitting next to Eddie. He lets his feet dangle from the side and follows Eddie’s gaze. Across the lake, some people linger, cooling down before heading back to their hot homes. Some children are playing in the shallows and their joyful screams carry over the water.

“Your work?” Steve asks as he gestures to some of the writing on the boat. The wood is covered in crude phrases, names, and dates – some of them are carved, but most look to be written with a sharpie.

“Some of it is.” Eddie pulls out a pocket knife from his jeans and hands it to Steve. “You can add to it if you want.”

Steve turns the knife in his hand. It is a classic red Swiss knife and it lays heavy in his hand. 

“Here–” Eddie twists around and Steve follows suit. Eddie’s fingers are tracing the wood behind them, running them over the carvings in the wood. “– I think I did this about a year ago.”

Eddie removes his hands and Steve can finally get a good look. It’s nothing crazy, just a simple ‘Eddie was here’ carved in crude scratches – eternalised in some rotting wood in a town no one cares about.

Eddie holds up his hand to Steve and he realizes he is asking for his knife back. Steve hands it over.

Eddie flips out the knife and bends himself over the carving. Steve turns back around, looking over the lake again as the sound of scratching fills his ears.

“All done!” Eddie says after a while.

When Steve turns back, he sees his name freshly carved into the wood, right above Eddie’s original carving.

Steve + Eddie was here

“You wanted to immortalize this?” Steve asks amused.

Eddie flips the knife closed again and shoves it into his pocket. “A year ago, I’d never thought I’d be sitting here with Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington. Guess that’s pretty fucking special.” Eddie casts him a toothy grin. 

Steve had to agree though. If someone had told him a year ago he would be hanging out with Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson on a Friday evening – rather than spend his night on a date or at a party – he would have declared them crazy.

“I suppose so,” Steve replies.

All is quiet for a moment, save the sound of leaves rustling by a welcome breeze. Steve closes his eyes as the wind kisses his sweaty skin.

“I got you something,” Eddie says, breaking the silence and he stands up. Steve’s gaze follows him and his eyes widen when he sees Eddie move his hands over his head to pull his tank top off. 

“But let's take a dip first…it’s hot as balls.” He throws the sweaty tank top at Steve, who slaps it out of the air before it can hit him. The fabric lands heavily on the wooden deck.

“I didn’t bring my trunks,” 

“You don’t need those here.” Eddie gives him a knowing smile as he kicks on his shoes.

Eddie is lean and he has a nice back, Steve thinks. Not particularly broad like some of his former teammates on the swimming team, but not bad for a guy who spends his time playing board games. His torso is littered with fading scars from the Upside Down and Steve has a fair amount of those himself.

“Get on with it, Harrington!” Eddie is already stripped to his underwear when Steve tears his eyes away and finally tugs his own shirt over his head.

A dip in the lake was a fantastic idea and Steve felt himself relax now that he was slowly but surely cooling down to more humane temperatures.

Steve tries to keep his eyes away from Eddie as they make their way back to the boat. The fabric of his boxers is clinging to his skin.

Eddie lays himself down on the deck, using his jeans as a pillow while he fiddles with his headphones. 

“C’mere Steve.” Eddie pats the space next to him and Steve reluctantly seats himself. Eddie is working the buttons of a walkman.

“Remember when I said I got you something?”

“That was like twenty minutes ago,” Steve feels borderline offended at the implication.

Eddie gestures for Steve to lay down as well and Steve complies begrudgingly, resting his head next to Eddie’s on his crumpled jeans while he stares up at the blue sky. He feels exposed in just his boxers and now Eddie wants them to lay side by side.

“Here.” Eddie hands him one half of the headphones while holding the other side to his own ears. Suddenly it dawns on Steve why they’re lying as they are. Eddie wants to let him listen to music. Steve moves half of the headphones to his ear and sure enough music starts playing.

“I put some things together I thought you might like.” Steve can see Eddie turn his head towards him from his periphery and study his face.

“You made me a mixtape?” Steve asks. The idea of Eddie putting together a mixtape for him was…well, really thoughtful.

“Now you say it out loud it sounds kinda lame,” Eddie laughs.

“No, it– it’s really nice.” Steve offers. 

He closes his eyes and listens to the unfamiliar tunes. Eddie did quite a good job at picking music that he might like. It is definitely less intense than Rainbow – the voices are less shrill, the guitar less cutting, and the drums beat at a lower frequency. It’s nice, ridiculously nice, and Steve can’t think of an instance when someone has ever taken the time to put something together for him like this – not even his ex-girlfriends.

They lay there for a while, each holding one end of the headphone. The people on the other side of the lake must have left by now because the only things Steve can hear are birdsong, the sound of rustling leaves, and the music that comes from the walkman. The breeze feels cool against his damp body, and he wonders why he had never done this before – stay at the lake until the sun went down.

Steve can almost feel himself drift asleep when Eddie nudges him.

“Steve.” Eddie shakes him gently by his shoulder.

“Hm, lemme be…” he whines without opening his eyes.

“You’re gonna be mosquito food.” Beside him, he hears Eddie getting up and when Steve finally opens his eyes, Eddie is already wearing his tank top. 

Steve hadn’t realized how long they had laid there. Only a small line of sun was visible in the distance and Eddie’s figure was dark against the pastel sky.

“I’m afraid I’m gonna need my pants,” Eddie says as he points at Steve’s head.

“Oh right.” Steve finally sits up, handing Eddie the makeshift pillow of his jeans.

Once they’re both dressed, Eddie leads them back through the forest. The sky is pink and the trees form black outlines against it. Steve walks after Eddie, who points out when to be mindful of a hidden boulder or a sudden dip in the forest floor. 

They take Eddie’s van back to Family Video so Steve can get his car. The whole car ride, Steve can’t help the feeling of nervousness that sits in his stomach. 

Today kinda felt like a date. 

Normally he would be on the other end of it – driving a girl home after a movie or something. And then, once he stops the car in front of her house, the girl would fidget and Steve would place his arm on the back of her car seat, confident and reassuring. He would tell her he had a good time and if she did as well, he would seal the deal with a kiss.

But this was Eddie, and they had been just two guys hanging out. 

Two guys that had made out a week ago. 

But that didn’t mean anything. It had just been Steve’s one-day gay phase and he got it out of his system now, hadn’t he? Eddie had only offered out of a misunderstanding, or maybe some weird kindness.

Shit, this train of thought was not helping Steve whatsoever. If anything, it had just made the nervous flutter in his stomach worse.

Eddie stops the van and the red neon light of Family Video plays with the curves of his face.

“There we are.” Eddie pushes himself back into his seat with his arms stretched on the steering wheel. Steve makes no movement to get out. They sit in silence for a while.

“About last week–” Steve starts. If he doesn’t acknowledge it now, he feels like he might go crazy. Besides, he doesn’t know when or if they’ll have another moment alone.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t tell anyone. We can forget about it if you want…” Eddie says without looking at him. His shoulders are tense and his grip on the steering wheels seems to harden.

“No…it’s not–” Steve tries, but Eddie cuts him off.

“Don’t worry Steve, I get it. I know what people say about me –”

“But–”

“ –and it doesn’t have to mean anything. People make out all the time–”

Steve unbuckles his seatbelt. He’s kind of sick of Eddie not letting him finish his sentences and is ready to return the favor.

He leans over, turning Eddie’s head towards him and kisses him. Hard.

Eddie’s mouth is parted, mid-sentence, and Steve feels teeth beneath his lips. By all accounts, it’s a shoddy kiss – not his best work – but it seems to do the trick.

Eddie loses his grip on the steering wheel, hands moving to Steve’s shoulders instead as he eagerly returns the sentiment.

“Fuck, Harrington, aren’t you full of surprises,” Eddie breaths against his lips.

Steve leans back into his chair and runs a hand through his hair.

“You talk too much,” he says as he opens the door of the van.

By the time he hears Eddie get out of his van, Steve is already opening the door to his  BMW.

“Wait, Steve,” Eddie calls as he jogs over. When he’s standing in front of Steve, he pulls at Steve’s arm, running his hand down and urging Steve’s palm up. He shoves something square in his hand and closes Steve’s fingers around it.

“Next Friday, same time?” Eddie asks him, searching his eyes.

Steve nods silently. He stares after Eddie as he walks back to his van. He opens the door and turns one last time, giving Steve a two-fingered salute before getting in. 

Steve hears the sound of the motor swinging on and looks at his hand. In the dim neon light, he stares down at a small cassette. Steve can hardly read the black letters in the red light, but he realizes Eddie has written something on its white label.

From Freak, to Hair. 

[AO3]

[livebeforeyoulearn]

My Favourite Game

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Overstimulation

Word Count: 6.1k

Summary: Your first night out with Alexia after having a baby goes exactly as you had planned.

Request

a/n: i kinda loved this request and got a little carried away

-

You and Alexia are dressed nicely, the soft glow of evening light reflecting off the car parked outside her sister’s house. Tonight is the night you’ve been dreaming of, a moment you’ve craved for longer than you can remember – date night. Since your daughter came into the world, time alone has been scarce, precious moments with just the two of you seem like distant memories. As much as you adore parenthood, and as much as sharing that role with Alexia has brought you closer in a new way, you miss her. You miss the warmth of her touch, the way her fingertips would graze your skin. You miss those quiet, intimate whispers she’d share only with you when the world outside no longer mattered.

This night has been in the works for days. You’ve planned every detail, and now that the moment is finally here, anticipation hums in your chest. You hope Alexia will pick up on your excitement, the signals you intend to send during dinner. Maybe, just maybe, the night will end the way you’ve been imagining all week.

"Are you going to come say hi to Alba?" Alexia asks, breaking your reverie. Her voice pulls you back to the present, and you meet her gaze, nodding with a soft smile. She returns the gesture, her hand resting on your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze before she opens the door and steps out of the car. Her movements are graceful yet purposeful as she opens the back door to unbuckle the baby. "Estàs preparat per passar una estona amb la tieta Alba?" She coos, her voice laced with affection.

Your daughter, in response, babbles sweetly, her legs kicking in tiny, joyful spurts that melt your heart. The sight of Alexia planting a kiss on her chubby cheek before cradling her close sends a wave of warmth through you. You follow, stepping out of the car and walking alongside your family up the short, stone path leading to Alba’s house.

Before you can knock, the door swings open, and Alba strides out, her face lit with a mischievous grin. She skips the usual pleasantries, barely acknowledging Alexia as she wraps you in a quick hug, her arms already reaching to scoop the baby from Alexia’s embrace.

"Hola preciosa, ens ho passarem molt bé!" Alba beams, the joy in her voice contagious as your daughter giggles in response. Alexia, ever the protective mother, rolls her eyes but smiles despite herself. Alba lets the baby reach for her face, her eyes softening with affection.

“Her bedtime is soon. Please don’t keep her up too late, and–” Alexia starts, her tone edging towards concern, but she’s swiftly cut off by Alba’s nonchalant wave.

“Ale, she’ll be fine,” Alba reassures, flashing her a playful smile. “Don’t worry.” With a gleeful look, she guides your daughter’s tiny hand in a wave. “Say, bye Mami, bye Mama, have fun – but not too much fun. We can’t have another little one too soon.”

Alexia’s cheeks turn a soft shade of pink, a rare bashfulness in her usually composed demeanour. You chuckle, squeezing her hand as she looks away, trying to hide her embarrassment. “Thank you again, Alba,” you say, gratitude laced in your tone as Alba sends you a knowing wink. 

You bend down to place a tender kiss on your daughter’s head, savouring the soft warmth of her skin. Alba hugs you once more, kissing you on the cheek before finally embracing her sister. With a final smile, she heads inside, the door closing softly behind her.

"Come on, amor," you say, the excitement bubbling up once more as you tug gently on Alexia’s hand, your heart already racing with the thrill of what’s to come.

Alexia turns towards you, a radiant smile lighting her face as she lets you pull her back to the car, your fingers entwined. 

The car ride feels much longer than it really is, and with every passing minute, you can feel the excitement buzzing through you, almost impossible to contain. Alexia glances over at you, amused by the energy radiating off you, clearly enjoying how eager you are for this night – just the two of you. It’s been so long since you’ve had uninterrupted time alone together, and the prospect of a night away from parenting duties feels like a breath of fresh air.

When you finally arrive, the restaurant is even more perfect than you imagined. Elegant and intimate, the soft glow of lights hanging overhead sets the perfect mood for the evening. As soon as the car stops, you're out in an instant, nearly pulling Alexia out with you, your impatience showing.

Inside, you’re led to a booth tucked towards the back, secluded from the rest of the restaurant. The flickering candlelight casts a warm, romantic glow across the table, illuminating Alexia’s features in a way that takes your breath away. She slides into the booth beside you, close enough that her leg rests against yours, and you instinctively wrap an arm around her, your fingers lazily playing with the strands of her hair. Your other hand finds its place on her thigh, gently resting there, though you wish she had worn a dress tonight. You could work with this, though.

As you settle in, you let your fingers trail slowly over her covered thigh, brushing higher with every casual touch. At first, your movements are innocent enough, your hand finding its way to her neck, then along her jawline, caressing the soft skin just below her ear. Each time you move, you notice the slight hitch in her breath, and it’s enough to encourage you to keep going.

“Stop,” Alexia whispers softly, her voice barely audible, but the playful glint in her eye tells you she doesn’t really mean it. She keeps her eyes focused on the menu in front of her, but you can see the faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips, betraying her amusement.

“Stop what?” you ask innocently, letting your fingers travel higher up her thigh, closer to her waistband. Your other hand slips under her shirt, fingers lightly tracing over her abdomen, your nails grazing over the firm ridges of her muscles. “I’m not doing anything.”

Alexia’s breath catches in her throat, her body shifting subtly as she glances around the restaurant, checking to see if anyone might be paying too much attention. When she’s sure no one is watching, she leans in, her lips brushing your ear as she whispers, her voice low and warm. “You’re going to get us in trouble.”

Your hand dips lower, your fingers playing with the hem of her panties under the waistband of her pants. “Trouble? I don’t think anyone’s even looking,” you murmur, your voice carrying a teasing edge.

Alexia bites her lip, casting a furtive glance around the room before leaning back into you, her lips dangerously close to your ear now. The teasing tone in her voice sends a rush of heat through you as she whispers, “If you keep going, I’m not responsible for what happens when we get home.”

A triumphant smirk spreads across your face, proud of how well this is going. Your fingers become bolder, slipping under her panties as you trace the skin below. “Maybe I don’t want to wait until we get home,” you murmur, pushing the boundary just a bit more. But before you can go any further, Alexia’s hand closes around your wrist, pulling it away.

“Patience, mi amor,” she says, her cheeks flushed, the effort to maintain composure obvious as she casts another nervous glance around the room. “You’re impossible,” she mutters, though there’s no real annoyance in her voice – only a mix of frustration and desire.

You can’t help but chuckle, leaning in to lower your voice. “You like it, though. Admit it.”

Her eyes meet yours, a playful warning flickering behind them, but you can see the spark of excitement, the way her body responds even though she’s trying to act unbothered. “You’re lucky we’re in public,” she whispers, her lips brushing against your jaw, sending shivers down your spine. “Or I’d wipe that smug grin right off your face.”

You lean in closer, your lips almost brushing hers, the tension between you electric. “I’d like to see you try,” you murmur, your voice thick with challenge.

Her gaze flickers down to your lips for a fleeting moment before she pulls back, her expression shifting to something more controlled. “Careful,” she says, her hand now sliding up your leg under the table, her fingers applying just enough pressure to make you crave more.

You swallow hard, trying to suppress the groan building in your chest, your body reacting instantly to her touch. “Is this how it’s going to be?” you ask, voice hushed and teasing.

Alexia’s smirk deepens, her fingers continuing their slow, torturous path along your leg. “Maybe. What are you going to do about it?”

Before you can respond, you notice the waiter making his way towards your table. Reluctantly, you pull back, muttering under your breath, “We’ll see who breaks first.”

Alexia straightens up, her posture casual as the waiter approaches, her cheeks still slightly flushed from your teasing. She smiles at him as if nothing happened, but the tension between you lingers, thick in the air. The silent promise of what’s to come later pulses between you, unspoken but undeniable.

As the waiter leaves your table, you watch how Alexia tries her hardest to keep her eyes locked with yours, but you can see the struggle. Despite her best efforts, her gaze keeps drifting down to your lips, almost involuntarily, as if drawn by a magnetic pull. The flicker of longing in her eyes doesn't go unnoticed by you, and it makes you smirk. You lean in slowly, teasingly close, as though you’re about to kiss her, your breath mingling with hers. Her lips part just slightly, a soft, almost desperate whine escaping from her as she waits for the kiss that never comes.

You hold the moment just a beat longer, relishing the effect you’re having on her, and then you pull back ever so slightly. The disappointment in her eyes is clear, and it makes you giggle, the sound light and teasing. But you don’t leave her completely wanting – you press a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of her lips, barely a taste of what she craves, before you withdraw fully.

Without saying a word, you turn your attention to the glass of water in front of you, picking it up with a playful, nonchalant air, leaving Alexia both frustrated and more eager than before.

In response, Alexia's hand slips discreetly under the table, her fingers gliding over your thigh with a new sense of purpose. This time, her touch feels different – there’s no hesitation, no teasing. Her movements are bolder, more intentional, as if she’s decided to take control of the game. Her hand slowly travels upwards, slipping beneath the hem of your dress, her fingertips grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

Just as her touch starts to grow even more daring, she suddenly freezes. Her fingers come to an abrupt halt, her whole body stilling as she realises something unexpected. Her eyes widen ever so slightly, a flicker of surprise flashing across her face. She looks at you with a mixture of disbelief and amusement, her lips twitching as if she's trying to hold back a grin.

“No panties?” she whispers, the words barely audible, but you can hear the incredulity in her voice. “Really?”

You bite your lip, trying not to grin too smugly. Instead of answering, you lean in closer, “I thought you’d appreciate the convenience.” Your voice is soft but laced with a wicked promise.

Alexia lets out a quiet laugh, shaking her head in disbelief, her hand still resting high on your thigh, now much more daring as she processes the revelation. “You’re something else.” 

You shift in your seat, trying to keep your composure, but Alexia is too attuned to your reactions. She notices the way you squirm, the barely restrained tension in your muscles. Her smirk deepens, clearly enjoying the effect she’s having on you.

“This explains a lot,” she whispers, her fingers inching higher. “All this teasing… you’ve been playing dirty from the start.”

You shrug, feigning innocence as your hand rests lightly on her thigh, but there’s no hiding the sly smile on your lips. “It’s not my fault if you can’t keep up,” you murmur, your voice low, challenging.

Alexia raises an eyebrow at your words, her eyes narrowing in playful defiance. “Oh, I’m keeping up just fine,” she replies, her voice dripping with amusement. Her hand brushes higher up your thigh, and you feel a shiver run down your spine as her fingers come dangerously close to exactly where you want her. “But now that I know what you’re hiding...” she pauses, her touch deliberate and slow, “I think I’ll take my time.”

A soft groan escapes your lips, a mix of frustration and excitement bubbling inside you. You try to remain composed, but the heat pooling between your legs makes it impossible to stay unaffected. “You’re enjoying this way too much,” you mutter, your voice breathless and low.

Alexia leans in, her lips ghosting over your ear, her breath hot against your skin. “You started it,” she whispers, her voice thick with desire. Her hand hovers just inches away from where you crave her touch, and the anticipation is almost unbearable. “And I’m going to finish it.”

Her words hang in the air between you, heavy with promise. For a moment, it’s as if you forget where you are, the restaurant fading into the background as the tension between you builds. Your body aches with need, but before you can respond, Alexia pulls her hand away, smirking as you let out a quiet whine of protest.

“Patience,” she repeats, her tone teasing, almost mocking. She leans back in her seat, her hand retreating to rest casually on the table as she sips her drink, her expression cool and collected as if nothing had happened.

The rest of the meal fades into a blur of tactile exchanges, whispered provocations, and fleeting glances. The tension between you and Alexia grows with every touch. Her fingers, casually brushing against your thigh under the table, send jolts of heat through you, and every time your hand trails up her leg, you see her breath hitch slightly. It's no longer just a game – it's a competition, a silent struggle to see who will break first, who will surrender to the tension that's been building since the moment you sat down.

By the time the two of you step out of the restaurant, the tension between you has reached a breaking point, an almost tangible energy that neither of you can ignore. As soon as you settle into the passenger seat of the car, Alexia’s hand immediately finds its way to your thigh, her touch instinctive and possessive.

The road stretches out in front of you, but your focus is nowhere near the drive ahead. All your attention is locked on her hand, feeling the heat of her palm as it slowly inches upwards, pushing the fabric of your dress higher with each deliberate movement. You steal a glance at her, catching the familiar, playful smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. Her eyes flick briefly towards you, filled with knowing mischief as she takes in your reaction – how ready you are for her touch, how easily she has you under her control.

Alexia doesn’t need to say a word; that look alone says everything. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and she’s enjoying every second of it.

You grab her hand instinctively, even though everything in you wants her to continue. "What?" she asks, her voice light, teasing. "You want me to stop now?"

"You’ll crash," you manage to say.

She chuckles softly, the sound filled with amusement. "I won’t," she promises, her tone as steady as her hand on the wheel. "Bebé, I’m a very good multitasker." There’s a hint of pride in her words, as if she knows she’s already won.

You sigh, shifting slightly in your seat to ease the tension in your body, but your hips lift ever so subtly, betraying your need. Alexia notices immediately, a quiet chuckle escaping her as she revels in your response. With a knowing look, she lets her fingers push the fabric of your dress higher, inch by inch, her touch both deliberate and teasing as she slowly slides her hand between your legs. The first slow, calculated slide of her fingers through your folds makes your breath hitch sharply. You lean against the car door, pressing your lips into your palm, trying to stifle the sounds threatening to escape. 

She keeps her face carefully neutral, her eyes fixed on the road, as if nothing at all is happening. Her fingers, however, are anything but indifferent. They move with languid precision, slowly circling your clit, sending waves of pleasure through you, but never enough to push you over the edge. It’s maddening – the way she teases, building you up only to pull back just before you reach that sweet release.

Your hips move on their own, seeking more from her touch, desperate for the release she’s withholding. But just as you feel yourself getting close, her hand withdraws. The absence is immediate and infuriating, and you can’t help the soft whine that escapes your lips. When you glance at her, your eyes pleading, she just smirks, her voice dripping with satisfaction as she says, "It looks like I’m winning, mi amor."

You huff in frustration, and she lets out a soft, triumphant laugh, steering the car into the parking space. There’s a glint of victory in her eyes as she pulls to a stop, unbuckling her seatbelt with that same smug expression that tells you she’s savouring every second of this. She knows exactly what she’s done to you, and it’s written all over her face.

Once you’re out of the car, you wait for her, your body still buzzing with unresolved tension. Alexia rounds the car, and her hand finds the small of your back, guiding you gently but confidently towards the entrance of your apartment building. There’s a permanent grin on her lips, one of pure contentment, of quiet victory. The game may have ended, but you can see the happiness behind her playful smugness – the warmth in her eyes that comes not just from the teasing, but from being with you like this.

When you’re both inside, Alexia’s hands are on you immediately, a rush of hunger in the way her arms circle your waist. There’s no hesitation as she pulls you close, her body flush against yours, her breath mingling with yours in the intimate space between you. Her lips hover just over yours, feathering so close you can almost taste her, but she never quite closes the gap, teasing you with the anticipation of a kiss. 

“You don’t know how much I’ve missed you,” you whisper against her lips, your voice barely holding together from the need you feel. "I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long." The admission trembles in the air between you, raw and exposed.

Alexia’s fingers tighten on your hips in response, her grip almost possessive as she pulls you even closer. Her forehead rests against yours, her eyes dark and intense, the weight of her longing reflected in the way she touches you. “We don’t want to waste any more time then, do we?” she murmurs, her voice a rich blend of desire and amusement, teasing you with the edge of control she still holds.

You shake your head, breathless, and before you can even process it, she lifts you effortlessly, her strength catching you off guard. A surprised squeal leaves your lips, your arms instinctively wrapping around her neck as you cling to her, letting her carry you towards the bedroom. The movement is so seamless, so commanding, and it makes your heart race. “You’re such a brat, you know?” Alexia’s voice vibrates against your skin as she presses her lips to the side of your neck, sending another shiver through you. “Going to dinner without panties, knowing exactly what you were gonna get once we got home.” Her words drip with playful reproach, but there’s something deeper, something darker in the way she says it. 

Before you can respond, she lays you down on the bed with gentle care, her lips brushing your skin in a way that sets you on fire. You let out a soft whimper, your body already aching for more. She shakes her head, amusement dancing in her eyes as she watches you, her lips curving into a smirk. “Such a little tease,” she says, clicking her tongue as if she’s disappointed, though you can see the desire flickering beneath her cool composure.

She leans over you, her presence intoxicating as she finally closes the distance between your lips, capturing you in a slow, heated kiss that feels like it could unravel you from the inside out. Her mouth moves against yours with purpose, each stroke of her tongue teasing, exploring, consuming. It’s slow, sensual, and so utterly Alexia that you feel like you could lose yourself in it forever.

Her hands move immediately, exploring your body with a sense of familiarity and urgency that sends sparks through every inch of your skin. She plays with the thin straps of your dress, fingers grazing your bare shoulders, sliding down your arms, until her hands cup your chest, feeling the swell of your breasts beneath the fabric. Her touch is confident, sure, yet filled with restraint, as if she’s savouring every second, dragging it out just to make you squirm. She moves over your hips, tracing the curve of your body with her palms before pulling away, her eyes dropping to the space between you. 

She bites her lip hard as she looks down, her gaze darkening with lust, her restraint hanging by a thread. You can see it in the way her breath catches, the way her fingers twitch as if she's holding herself back from devouring you.

“Ale, please,” you beg, your voice already breathless, your chest rising and falling rapidly. “You’ve been teasing me all night.”

Her eyes meet yours, and for a moment, she just watches you, her gaze flickering across your face, drinking in every inch of your expression before she finally nods. “You initiated it, no?” she smirks, her voice carrying that familiar teasing lilt as she revels in your need. The way you whine in response only makes her more amused. “Strip,” she commands, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Then get on your hands and knees.”

You don’t hesitate, your fingers fumbling as you work to remove your dress, eyes locked on her as she undoes her own clothes, each layer revealing the toned, beautiful body you’ve been aching to feel. 

Alexia steps away to the drawer, opening it and pulling out the toys that have been left untouched for too long. Your eyes follow her movements, your pulse quickening at the thought of what’s to come. You’re already in position, your body ready and aching, when you hear her behind you, adjusting herself with practised ease. The sound of her putting on the strap sends a fresh wave of arousal through you, your mouth going dry as you wait for what’s next.

The bed dips under her weight as she climbs behind you, and you swallow hard, fighting back the needy whimper that threatens to escape your lips. You feel her hands on you again, those strong, sure fingers caressing the curve of your ass, running up your back, down your thighs, sending shivers along your skin. She leans over you, pressing her lips to your shoulder blades, her breath hot against your skin as she lets out a low groan.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this sight,” she murmurs, her voice thick with desire. You can hear the hunger in it, feel the way her body reacts to yours. Her lips trail down your spine, a light bite at the base of your neck making you gasp. “You doing exactly what I say, my good girl.”

“Alexia,” you moan, your voice barely holding together. “Fuck me already, please.”

She chuckles, her breath hot against your skin as her arm wraps around you, her hand brushing between your legs, teasing, never quite giving you what you want. “Begging already?” she teases, her voice dripping with amusement as you whimper beneath her. “Where’s the fun if I just give you what you want?”

You can’t help the frustrated whine that escapes you, your body aching for more. She smirks, her lips pressing a kiss to your back before her hand slips lower, her fingers gathering your wetness, spreading it over the silicone. The sensation makes you gasp, your hips jerking forwards as you urge her on.

When she’s ready, she fists the toy in her hand, pressing the tip against your entrance, teasing you further. “Is this what you want, baby?” she asks, her voice dark, her control over the moment absolute. “For me to fill you up?”

You nod, your throat tightening as you whimper needily, desperate for her.

“Words,” she presses, her voice firm.

“Yes,” you groan, the word torn from your lips as you feel her pushing inside. “Fuck, Alexia.”

The stretch is intoxicating, your eyes rolling back as she slowly pushes deeper, her thighs meeting the back of yours as she bottoms out inside you. The feeling is heady, overwhelming, and she gives you a moment to adjust before her hips begin to move again, slow, steady thrusts that have you moaning her name in pure ecstasy.

Her hands grip your hips tightly, guiding your body into her movements as her pace picks up, the rhythm of her thrusts driving you higher and higher. The room is filled with the sounds of your moans, the occasional grunt that escapes her as she watches you take her so completely, her eyes never leaving your body.

“You’re taking me so well, bebé,” she murmurs, her voice breathless as her pace quickens, her abs tensing with each thrust.

Her hips roll perfectly, hitting that spot inside you that has your entire body trembling, a string of her name leaving your lips as you moan louder, your body bucking against her in desperate need. You can feel her hand slip between your legs, her fingers finding your clit and rubbing harsh, perfect circles that send you spiralling towards the edge.

“You close already, amor?” she asks, and you nod, barely able to hold yourself together, your embarrassment lost in the haze of pleasure. She smirks at how quickly you’ve come undone, proud of the way you respond to her, and she doesn’t slow down.

Her thrusts continue, deep and precise, as her fingers work over your clit with just the right amount of pressure, and before long, you feel yourself tipping over the edge, your body shaking as your orgasm rips through you, leaving you breathless and boneless beneath her.

You feel yourself release completely, the tension draining from your body as you fall apart around her, your limbs weak, your mind blissfully blank from the intensity of it all.

Alexia doesn’t slow down. Her rhythm is relentless, guiding you with expert control, not allowing you a moment to recover. Your body feels caught between pleasure and sensitivity, and as much as your muscles scream for a break, the heat building between you tells a different story. Desperation claws at your thoughts, and your hand reaches back, instinctively, to try and halt her movements, to get a breath – but she’s quicker, catching your wrist with ease. 

She gently presses your arm behind your back, her fingers firm but unhurried. The soft drag of her breath against your ear as she murmurs, “You can do another, yeah?” makes your stomach tighten. You can only nod, biting your lip as a moan rips from your throat, the sensation too much to hold back.

The pressure inside of you builds, the overstimulation sending tremors through your limbs, making it harder to support yourself. You’re shaking, your body giving in to the power of her movements. Each thrust feels sharper, more precise, and your breaths come in short gasps, your chest rising and falling erratically as you cling to the last remnants of your control.

She notices, of course – how you’re starting to crumble under her, how the weight of your own pleasure is too much to hold yourself up anymore. She knows exactly when to pull back, slowing her pace, dragging it out just enough to give you a second to breathe, but not enough to stop the sensation entirely. The moment she senses you’re close to breaking, she shifts, helping you turn onto your back with care.

You barely have time to settle before your hands fly to her shoulders, instinctively grabbing for her, needing her. Needing the closeness, the reassurance of her presence. Alexia leans in, her body blanketing yours as she resumes her movements with a new intensity. Her elbows rest on either side of your head, and you feel surrounded – by her body, her warmth, the intoxicating rhythm of her hips as they push deeper inside you. 

Your breath hitches as her pace quickens again, each thrust sending you spiralling. It’s the drag of her skin against yours, the way she occasionally brushes over your clit, that makes your nerves feel like they’re on fire. You bite down on her shoulder to ground yourself, the taste of her skin on your lips, but she only responds with a low, satisfied hum, like she revels in the sensation of your teeth sinking into her skin.

Her lips find the side of your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses there, sucking just enough to make you shudder. Her teeth nip at your pulse point before her tongue glides over the spot, soothing the sting with gentle strokes. Your legs tremble beneath her, barely able to stay steady with the way her hips keep grinding into you, harder and faster now.

“Harder,” you beg, your voice breaking, the sound pitiful in your own ears.

Alexia's breath hitches for a moment, her hips stuttering as she responds to your plea. “¿Así te gusta?” she whispers, her voice dripping with desire. Her hips press harder, deeper, and the change in angle sends a sharp shock of pleasure straight through you. The force of it makes you gasp, and your nails dig into her back, dragging down her skin with reckless abandon, leaving red lines in your wake. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know they’ll leave marks, but you're far beyond caring. All you can think about is how it feels, the sensation of her body against yours, the way she’s making you come undone.

Her lips trail lower, her mouth finding one of your breasts, and when her teeth graze your nipple, you cry out, the mix of pain and pleasure driving you closer to the edge. She sucks with purpose, her tongue swirling over the sensitive bud, and your back arches in response, pressing your chest into her mouth. Your fingers tangle in her hair, pulling at the strands, desperate to keep her there as you tighten around the strap inside you.

She groans as she feels you clench around her, her own pleasure reflected in the sound that fills the room. “Fuck, mi amor, you’re so tight.” Her voice is rough, almost strained, as though she’s barely holding on herself. 

Your nipples harden under her touch, every nerve in your body buzzing with sensation as you near the edge once again. You can feel the tightening in your core, the pressure building with each roll of her hips. She shifts her weight slightly, her tongue licking a slow trail down your chest before her hand slips back between your legs, fingers finding your clit with the same skilled intensity that makes your entire body react.

She rubs harsh, insistent circles over your clit, the pressure almost too much, and your hips buck against her hand. The overstimulation has your senses overwhelmed, your body no longer able to differentiate between pain and pleasure, only that you need more, and fast. The feeling builds impossibly quickly, and when the final wave of your orgasm hits, it crashes over you like a flood. You moan loudly, the sound ripping through the air, and your nails dig deep into her skin, your body writhing beneath her, shaking uncontrollably as the pleasure overwhelms you.

Alexia slows down as you come, her movements becoming softer, more deliberate, helping you ride out the intense sensations. Each stroke inside of you feels like a gentle push, guiding you through the aftershocks, keeping you tethered to reality. 

“You did so well,” she whispers, her lips brushing against your ear as she speaks. There’s a warmth in her voice, a tenderness that makes your chest tighten. She presses a light kiss to your cheek before trailing her lips down your neck again, her mouth moving slower now, each kiss softer, more reverent. “Such a good girl.”

You’re too exhausted to speak, your mouth falling open in a soft, post-orgasmic daze. She takes advantage of the moment, her tongue slipping into your mouth, kissing you with a deep, consuming fervour. The kiss is slow but intense, her lips capturing yours in a way that feels both possessive and tender at the same time. You lose yourself in her for what feels like hours, the rest of the world fading into nothing as you focus on the taste of her, the warmth of her body pressed against yours.

Eventually, she pulls away, her breath coming in soft, shallow pants as she rolls off of you. The sudden emptiness inside you is jarring, but her presence next to you is enough to bring you back down to earth. She lays beside you, both of you breathless, your chests rising and falling in unison. You roll onto your side, your hand coming to rest on her chest, feeling the steady beat of her heart beneath your palm. Your cheek presses against her shoulder, and she turns her head, resting her cheek atop your head, pressing a soft kiss to your hairline. 

“I love you, mi vida,” she whispers, the words almost lost in the quiet of the room, but you feel them deep in your bones. There’s a sincerity there, a kind of love that feels too big for words, but she says it anyway.

“I love you too, Ale,” you whisper back, your lips brushing against her skin as you speak. You kiss her shoulder softly, before shifting to roll completely on top of her. You connect your lips once more, slower this time, savouring the moment. Your hands move lazily, working at the harness around her waist, undoing the straps as you feel the last traces of exhaustion melt away.

The rest of the night is a blur of slow kisses and intimate touches, fingers tracing familiar paths over skin that only you know. There’s a quiet kind of love in the way you move together, the kind that feels almost sacred, like a secret only the two of you will ever fully understand.