#and boom! phone charging

[elitetrinetrash]

You think you can charge a phone with a transformer?

[snoopyredd]

you guys my whole street just lost power fuuuuuck

[moomoorare]

Bro little brothers 😭😭

[dumpywrites]

Trophy Boy - Jeon Jungkook

Prompt: Beauty privilege exists, that's why you're selling your hot best friend.

Prompt request: HERE

Genre/tags: Fluff, friends to lovers, model! Jungkook, soft! Jungkook, office worker reader

Pairing: Jungkook x she/her reader

Word count: 5.7k

a/n: softie and goofy Jungkook is my weakness! and I know ya'll feel the same way :)

Yet another busy day at the office. You were sitting down in a slumped position in your cubicle, something you should probably change or would regret in the future. The hot air was not helping you at all and you were starting to sweat through your stripped shirt, despite the air conditioner being on full blast. 

Boss just entered the room with the not-so-short rant targeted specifically to the marketing team. Apparently interest in buying plain tees and other basic fashion items were not the greatest at the moment, but if you actually were to be frank, it was more on the brand you were working at. Your boss was blaming things left and right, trying to find excuses to cope with his current losses. 

The thing was with the big guy, was that he wanted huge impact while spending the smallest amount he could possibly afford. It was a somewhat clever business decision in terms of saving cost, but sometimes people just needed that extra boom. That go big or go home. If your boss wanted his brand to reach a new market of people, he needed to brave himself for greater risks. 

“Sir, maybe we do need to endorse some big name influencers to help boost our social media exposure.” One of your co-workers spoke up. 

“We cannot afford millions just for a few Instagram stories, moreover they charge more for a simple photoshoots.” Your boss replied with a groan. 

“Sir, but if you look at how Calvin Klein promote their stuff, we obviously need some good looking people wearing and demonstrating how good our products could be.” The guy retorted. “Good looking people make basic items look good. That’s literally what they do.” 

“Good looking people cost a lot, Hoseok. If you could somehow find me a drop dead gorgeous guy who would somehow accept anything under thirty dollars per hour, we’ll talk.” And with that the man walked out from the room. 

“Well good luck on that, I guess.” Hoseok rolled his eyes with a smirk. 

“At this rate you’re gonna get kick out.” You eyed the guy next to you. “We don’t want that, remember? We need you resigning with class, so that you don’t get a bad rep???”

“That man needs to know that whatever boomer shit we’re doing here, ain’t gonna boost our sales!” He protested. “You could buy plain white t-shirts anywhere, what makes us special?!”

“True.” You sighed. “I even heard the design team complaining about this.”

“If only we could afford that one handsome mukbang streamer who is everywhere right now.” Hoseok sighed along with you. 

“If you could magically make Kim Seokjin to accept three hundred per hour I would literally worship you.” 

“Do you maybe have any hot friends?” 

“God, I don’t know?! Do you??? I don’t have any friends who are influencers or anything.” 

“Can I see any group photos you have? They don’t have to be an influencer. Just gotta be good looking enough. The rest can be helped through styling.” Hoseok scooted closer. 

“You sound crazy.” You eyed the guy, shaking your head. “Are we that desperate?!”

“Hey, maybe doing this could help me get that recommendation letter, you know?” Hoseok said smugly. “Now let me look through your friend group…”

“If you want a decent looking guy that we could revamp by styling later, Yoongi literally exists.” You said, suggesting the tech-support guy. 

“He’s short. Although I get your point, would he even be willing to do so without actually killing any of us???”

“Fair enough.” You laughed. “Here, I don’t know, take a look at my friends, I guess…”You handed him your phone. 

The picture you flashed on your phone screen was from a recent dinner hangout you had with your group friend of five. Hoseok throughly scanned the photo as if he was doing some detective work. It did not take him too long before an idea popped and he snapped his fingers. He straightened his pose and moved his chair closer to you. 

“Who is this hunk with tattoos?!”

“Uh, that’s my friend Jungkook?” You eyed him suspiciously. “Don’t tell me—“

“He’s hot.”

You stopped and looked back to your co-worker’s direction. “He’s the most unserious person I know, we can’t—“

“But he’s hot.” Hoseok cut your sentence again. “He’s not like a model or something, right?”

“He’s a graphic designer…” You replied, unsure. 

“Perfect! That means he won’t mind us underpaying him.” He smirked. “Do not argue with me right now, I know you agree with me.”

You eyed the guy again, searching for doubt and found none. The guy was dead serious about this. 

“Fine.”

**

And that was how you found yourself assisting your friend for his now third photoshoot. After the first one being a huge success, your company kept asking for more content and for him to become their part time model. 

Obviously your friend’s beauty was no news for you. Jungkook had always been cute in your eyes alone, way before he discovered Pinterest and basic styling. You had known him for a few years, the friend group was built around university days after all, and you had seen him through thick and thin. Literally though, you saw him transformed from this scrawny boy to a gym bro right in front of you. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by a few knocks at the door. You straightened your figure and told the person to enter. 

“Hi, Y/N!” 

It was Chaewon from design department. Her alongside with Jimin both work in the fashion area. While she designed the silhouettes, Jimin helped with the styling. Even though she was a normal employee like you, she actually was the CEO’s daughter. It was a known fact already, but she insisted to be treated the same as everyone else. 

“Hi, do you need something, Chaewon?” 

“I need to talk to you about something…” The girl said, looking nervous. She was fidgeting her fingertips and looking to other direction. 

“Sure, what is it?”

“Jungkook’s your friend, right?”

“Uh, yeah… why?”

“I really need your help.” She put her hands together above her head. “I need a plus one to a wedding.”

“And you need Jungkook to help you?” You looked at her questioningly. 

“Yes!” She said, nodding her head a few times. “Please, my ex is gonna be there.”

“I’m not sure if he’s willing—“

“I’ll pay.”

You froze and she continued again. 

“I overheard you talking to Hoseok that Jungkook’s not getting the pay he deserves because he’s new…“

“Chaewon, you don’t have to—“

“Please, just this once??? If it makes you feel better I’ll pay you both.” When you stopped she added. “Is five hundred enough? I’ll give you the same amount.” 

You gulped. So unlike her father, Chaewon was not at all stingy. Her offer sounded really tempting. While you wanted to say it sounded good in your head out of good conscious in you, because Jungkook deserved better pay, you also couldn’t lie to yourself that you needed the extra dollars at the moment. Accidentally dropping your phone from the stairs and having to replace the whole screen certainly did a dent to your savings. Not to mention how your car just broke down a month ago.

“I’ll… ask him.”

“Awesome. Let me know as soon as possible cause the wedding’s this weekend!” She smiled before exiting the room. 

You spent the next few hours contemplating with your inner debate. It sounded rather wrong, but there’s no harm if he agrees to it? You thought. 

“Hey, there!”

Speak of the devil. There he was, skipping through the office walking straight to your shared room. The muscle bunny, sometimes his duality scared you, how his facial expression and demeanor could switch in between takes and breaks. He looked effortlessly good with the brand’s blank white t-shirt hugging his body nicely. Let Jimin cook because he styled his hair wavy this time and it looked so good on him. 

“Hello to you too, Mr. Model.” You shook your head, smiling. “Done with the shoots?”

“Yep. I finished an hour earlier this time.” He leaned to your table with a grin on his lips. 

“You didn’t give Jimin and Chaewon a hard time, right?” You said, mentioning the design team. 

“Nope.” He giggled. “Chaewon even said that I’ve improved a lot and I barely need any pose references now.”

“That’s great.” You said with your eyes still glued to the computer screen. 

He hummed and took the empty seat next to you. He started flipping through his phone, not wanting to disturb you but also not wanting to leave.

“Aren’t you leaving? Hoseok’s meeting is done in like ten minutes. He’s gonna need that seat.” You pointed. 

He bit his inner cheeks. “What time are you finished?”

“At five? And you knew this already, stop asking.”

“Who knows if I keep asking, one day you’ll get to clock out earlier.” He shrugged. 

You chuckled. “You know you don’t have to wait up for me every single time.” 

“You got me the job, it’s only fair. Besides, I’m not doing photoshoots every single day.”

Yeah and they’re underpaying you. You sighed. “Kook, I want to ask you something…”

His eyes lit up as he perked up, looking to your direction like a puppy. He nodded eagerly with a smile, waiting for you. “Yeah?”

“Chaewon asked me if you’d be interested on being her plus one at a wedding?”

The excitement in his face dropped almost instantly. You could see his eyes frowned at the question thrown at him. 

“That’s weird. Why would she?”

“It’s a wedding and her ex is attending.” You explained. “She said she’ll pay.”

“Nah, that’s still fucked up though. Isn’t she the big boss’ daughter or something?!” He raised his eyebrows. 

“But she’ll pay.” You repeated. “She told me five hundred…”

“Oh shit.” He widened his eyes. “For real?!”

You nodded. “Just say yes, it’s literally just a one time thing.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, I’ll help you out with everything.” 

He breathed out a sigh. “Alright, only if you’ll help me out.” 

“Great, I’ll let Chaewon know.” You turned your head quickly realizing Hoseok was already at the door. “Go home, don’t wait up for me.”

He shook his head and smile. “Okay, don’t forget to eat, yeah?” 

“I won’t. See ya, Kook.” 

He waved his hand to you with a big tooth-aching smile and headed towards the door. He briefly waved to Hoseok and the guy greeted him back before he went out. 

“How are you not dating that dude is beyond me.” Hoseok suddenly blurted as he calmly took his seat. 

You almost choked on nothing. “Excuse me?!”

“That boy is clearly into you. He basically waits for you every single time like an obedient dog.”

“Cause he’s my friend and I technically got him this job? He said it himself.”

“Sure.” He snickered, eyes immediately back to his computer screen. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“I will because that’s the truth.” You rolled your eyes and returned to your work. 

**

As promised, you found yourself accompanying Jungkook on a Saturday morning, helping him choosing a suit. Jimin was kind enough to recommend you a good place to rental one. Man only had baggy clothes and baggy clothes only in his wardrobe, and for sure they were not a good fit for a wedding.

“Have you asked Chaewon what color she’ll be wearing?” Jungkook asked as he browsed through the hanger. 

“Didn’t I gave you her number? You should talk to her you know, it’ll be less awkward.” 

The guy puffed his cheeks, pouting. “Dunno dude… It still feels kinda weird to me. I’ll rehearse when I pick her up.” 

“Oh, speaking of that. I’ve rented the car for you. It’s a Lexus.”

“Couldn’t afford a Porche or some?” 

“I figured we don’t need to be that flashy.”

“I was joking.” Jungkook sighed with a smile. “It’s always straight up business with you, huh?”

“What’s that suppose to mean?” You looked at him for a second, but proofing him right as your eyes quickly moved to the loafer shoes at the shelf. “I think these could go well with your suit.” 

The man sighed again with a defeated smile on his face as he took the loader to try them on. “This is fun too, I guess…”

“You mean renting an outfit and cosplaying as a rich person?” You quirked your eyebrow and grinned. 

“No, I mean hanging out with you like this, silly. When was even the last time we hangout like this?” He chuckled, jumping up and down as he tried the shoes. “Would you look at that, I could probably dance in these!” 

“We’ll take those then.” You gestured him to take them off and he did so. “I don’t know, back in college??? Back then when I helped you buying an outfit for—“

“Don’t!” With his eyes widened he immediately stopped you from finishing your sentence. 

“Why?” You laughed. 

“Do not even man… that was so embarrassing.” He covered his face. “My confidence level was through the roof thinking I could win someone with a bowl cut.”

“Hey, that bowl cut wasn’t so bad!” You chuckled. “Aww, I suddenly missed the cute and innocent looking Jungkookie…”

“You mean I don’t look cute and innocent anymore?” He batted his eyelashes at you jokingly. 

“Taehyung thought you were a drug dealer when he first met you.” You folded your arms. 

“He’s a judgmental person.” He clicked his tongue. “I am in fact still cute, you need to accept that.”

“Sure.” You giggled and patted him right in his tatted bicep. 

There were some audible protests coming from your friend, but you let him be as you paid for the rented clothings and footwear. 

After making sure all things were set, you texted Chaewon to double check on the time and place, as well as asking her on whether there was a specific topic she wanted to talk or not to talk. Jungkook still refused to call her or even text her personally, which is a bit annoying, but at the end of the day you were also getting that paycheck so you couldn’t complain too much, since Jungkook was the main performer in this after all. 

“All good?” You asked him. 

“Do you think I should take off my lip piercings?” He said, looking at the mirror. 

“Nah, it’s fine. Chaewon already knows what she’s doing when she asked for you.” 

“She specifically wants a bad boy for a plus one?” 

“Now who says you’re a bad boy?”

“I thought we just had a talk about how I don’t look cute and innocent anymore???” He turned to face you. “Although, I’m not a believer but that’s your statement.” He shrugged with a big smirk on his lips. 

“Your exterior yes, but you’re not fooling anyone with your personality, my guy. You’re a softie.” You chuckled and moved closer to fix his crooked tie.

A genuine smile was visible on his face. “Glad to hear that.” 

Seeing his smile instantly made you did as well. “Nervous?”

“Me? Nah, never.” He dismissed. 

“Of course.” You giggled. “Go, we’re so gonna try that new Japanese restaurant after this!”

And the party went well. Apparently Jungkook impressed all of Chaewon’s friends, even though they were not the main target and some were even aware of the agreement. Most importantly, he got her ex’s attention. He got the guy approaching, introducing himself, and seemingly pissed when Jungkook decided not to reveal his name to him in return. 

In conclusion, Chaewon had a great time and both of you were paid handsomely. Oh, that wagyu beef you had together afterwards sure was delicious! 

**

“I may need to borrow Jungkook again.” 

You stared at the lady in front of you, fazed. Chaewon had just stopped you right after work, just randomly popping the sentence out of nowhere. You were not too sure how to react. 

“I’ll pay again! Don’t worry.” She giggled nervously. “It’s just that, my parents actually think it’s good if I have someone with me to attend a shareholder party…” 

“I see.” Was all you could say. 

“They don’t know I’m paying both of you but they do think he’s one good looking arm candy…”

You sure did not like how she phrased that. 

“It’ll be quicker than the wedding, it’s just a small dinner.” She reasoned again. “Can you ask Jungkook?”

“Why don’t you?” You cleared your throat quickly after realizing how that might sound rude. “I mean, you could just ask him?”

“I don’t think he’s that comfortable with me… He also talked to me through you, no? Please, I really need your help.” 

“I…” The thought of your unfinished car payment started to fill your mind again. “I’ll talk to him.” 

“I’m counting on you.” She quickly reached for your hand and shook it vigorously. “And uh, keep it between us but I think you’ll be getting a raise next month with your contribution and all.” She winked before leaving you. 

The whole ride back home got you thinking deeply. Mostly considering your morals and common sense. Sure it was easy money on your part, and while Jungkook himself had not shown major complaints, you couldn’t help but to feel awful. You then decided to give him a call.

“Ye?” The guy on the other line sounded like he had food inside his mouth as he spoke. 

“You busy?” 

“Wait.” He said, seemingly taking his time to swallow. “No, I was just catching up on Squid Game with Bam. What’s up?”

“Chaewon kinda asked for your help again.” 

“Huh?” He voiced, followed by an upcoming video call notification. 

“Wait, do you really have to video call right now???” You swore you almost laughed, this man could be out of this world sometimes. 

“I need your live reaction.” He chuckled. “And Bam too! Don’t you miss him?”

“Shit, hold on.” You quickly took a peek at your reflection in the mirror, making sure your at home appearance was at least presentable before you accept the call request. “You are so weird, you know that?”

“I’m aware.” He laughed and took his dog’s paw to playfully wave at you, making you smile. 

“So uh, about Chaewon…”

“Oh yeah, that.” He frowned. “Do I need to go to another wedding? Damn, people must really care about the declining birth rate…”

“Her parents apparently wanted her to go to a dinner with the shareholders.” You controlled yourself not to make any weird expression, thinking about the word eye-candy Chaewon called him still rubbed you the wrong way. 

“Oh, am I gonna get introduced as a model?” He beamed. “That’d be cool.” 

“I don’t know.” You said, trying not to sound discouraging. “She’s gonna pay again though…”

“Ah…” He nodded, biting his inner cheeks. “I kinda need me a new camera…” 

“So?”

“Yeah, why the heck not.” He shrugged. “Does this mean we’ll get another makeover montage moment though???”

“We don’t need to rent a suit for this but I’ll help you out with your outfit choices, I guess.” 

“Cool, it’s a date then?”

You looked at him a bit weirded out but man just flashed you a big grin like it was nothing. 

“What?! I mean it’s kinda like a date since I don’t have to dress all formal.” He chuckled. 

“Of course.” You rolled your eyes. 

“I wonder though, I’m not one to judge but can’t she have anyone, I don’t know… more normal?” He then threw a cheeto in his mouth, snacking on it. “She’s a rich girl who’s also conveniently good looking. I’m sure there’s someone willing to go without payment.”

“You think she’s pretty?”

“I mean yeah.” He said, casually crunching on another cheeto. 

You didn’t know why a random opinion of his bothered you somehow, but you decided to shoo the thoughts away. “I don’t know but I think you’re underestimating the power you hold here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Jungkook, you are aware that you’re hot, right?” That might be too bold of you, but you were feeling a bit frisky. 

“Oooh~” He laughed giddily. “Didn’t know you think of me that way but thank you.” 

“Don’t play dumb, I wouldn’t offer you the job if I thought otherwise.” 

“I’m so telling the others. They need to know that you find me hot.” 

“Jungkook, what the hell—“

“Matter of fact, I’m gonna invite Taehyung to this call…” He snickered. 

“What?! No!” You quickly pressed the end call button out of panic. 

A text notification showed up immediately after the line ended, filled with a bunch of laughing emojis, saying that he was just joking and that he would see you on the next photoshoot. You wondered what made your heart doing summersaults but it did for a moment. 

**

“What do girls even like?” Jungkook asked you as he put on his leather jacket. “I probably won’t need this since I won’t be riding my bike, huh?”

You were sitting on his bed, one which had a few clothings messily displayed. It was an off day but you needed to help him with his outfit for another “gig” with Chaewon. The supposed job was not until the next day, but you had to visit your family hence why you were meeting a day prior. To be frank, you didn’t think he even needed you, considering you knew how he dressed on daily basis, but somehow he kept insisting that he needed your opinion as a woman, his words not yours. 

“Just be yourself.” You said as you looked at him from top to bottom. “Do not loose the jacket, it’s nice.” 

He put the outer back on, admiring at his reflection on the mirror. “You think?”

“I’m sure you go on a lot of dates… I assume.” You gave him a look. 

“Oh, you think so?” He chuckled. 

You looked at him suspiciously. “I don’t know? It’s not like I know your private life like that. When was the last time you went out on a date?”

“Hmm.” He tapped his chin in a comical way. “Last month, I think?”

You almost asked on why you hadn’t heard any of it, but you felt like it wasn’t your place to. “Oh? How was it?”

“It was okay-ish.” He shrugged. “I think she liked me I dunno…”

“You seem disinterested.” 

“You gotta try dating apps man… it drains you so much mentally to the point you start thinking everyone’s the same and nothing really matters.” He laughed. 

“You sure you’re not exaggerating?” 

“Maybe I am just a bit.” He chuckled. “But man… I’m so fed up with people!” He said, joining you sitting down on his bed. 

“Then why don’t you just delete the app?” 

He shrugged. “At the end of the day I’m still a human being who needs someone. It gets lonely sometimes.” 

“I wanna say working is a great distraction but let’s be honest it’s not.” You shook your head. 

“What ever happened to that guy that Namjoon introduced you to?” 

“Didn’t quite worked out. Plus, that was like what, five months ago??? Keep up with the news, please.” You laughed. 

“And no one told me?!” He looked at you, pretending to be offended. 

“It’s not exactly the most interesting story to tell… He’s a nice guy but two weeks into knowing him, he had to move to Singapore for a job.”

“Damn, that’s sad.” He clicked his tongue. 

“He’s not exactly my type anyways.” You chuckled. 

Jungkook wiggled his eyebrows, instantly getting a judgy look from you. “How exactly is your type then?”

“I like my men like I like my food.”

“Girlie, you eat anything.” Jungkook slanted his eyes. 

“Exactly, I’m not picky. As long as they’re honest and kind… I guess.”

He booed. “That’s boring.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help a smile. “Hey, I’m a simple person. And in today’s world it’s hard to find someone who has those traits, you know?” You hit his arm. “What about you? Being a model and all now must have set a new standard for you, huh?”

He laughed. “Nah, I don’t really have a type either. I just want someone who matches my freak.”

“That’s gotta be hard.” You giggled. 

“Hopefully not.” He grinned. “I mean, you kinda do…” He looked up at the ceiling, playfully whistling. 

“Aww, Kookie~” You cooed, teasing him. 

“I’m not joking.” He furrowed his brows like a kid. 

“Of course not.” You chuckled and ruffled his already messy hair. 

Jungkook protested and grabbed your wrist to stop you, but for a moment both of you stopped at eye level, just looking into each other. Your teasing grin slowly faded to be replaced with a tense gaze. The dark round pair of orbs were now staring into your eyes. 

Your mind was short circuiting when he suddenly moved closer. Your eyes squinted shut immediately, but nothing really happened after that. Jungkook just laughed it out and softly pushed you off him.

**

After the second agreement ended successfully, Chaewon had decided to come back yet again asking for Jungkook’s help. For sure she couldn’t be having that many social events to attend to, but apparently she did. This time, she needed him for her school reunion, said that it’d bad for her rep to show up alone after introducing him to her so-called friends just recently. 

This time, you were at your limit though. You weren’t so sure how Jungkook felt about the whole ordeal, but you on the other hand felt terrible. You could not just keep continuing and pretending like you weren’t basically selling your friend for money. And so after taking a deep breath, you politely rejected her offer. 

“Oh, come on! It’ll be the last time! Please???”She pleaded. 

“You need to ask him then, and uh… if he ends up agreeing you don’t have to pay me anymore. I kinda feel bad….”

“Guess I have to ask him myself then.” She heaved a sigh. “I’ll ask him after his photoshoot today.”

“I don’t mean to offend you in any way though, I just feel like I’m exploiting him.”

“No, don’t worry I get it.” She smiled, waving her hand in front of her face. 

When you arrived at the set the photoshoot was nearly on its end. As usual you get to monitor a bit and asked the staff about the progress. What was odd and new to you was seeing Chaewon being touchy with Jungkook. You knew she was a stylist and it was her job to take care of his looks during the shoot, but the high pitch laughs? Did she really need to touch his hair like that? And why did Jungkook seemed fine and joked back with her. The photographer definitely did not have to say that they look good together too. 

You did not hear anything from Jungkook after his photoshoot. You were busy with your job, mostly trying to distract yourself from the fact that you were too scared to ask the guy, you were even too anxious to meet him just at the thought of him finding out about your agreement. You didn’t get the chance to find out the event but kept wondering if he had agreed or not. Seeing how friendly they were today, maybe he did say yes to it. 

You also wondered since when did you start feeling jealous over this whole situation. Maybe that one moment between you and Jungkook that day really did something to you. He was about to kiss you, wasn’t he? Or maybe you were just going crazy. 

Funny enough, you thought the lad had went home straight after his photoshoot, but he surprised you with two cups of boba in his hands right after work. 

“You’re still here?!” You were surprised. 

“I didn’t wanna bother you, you seemed very focused today.” He giggled and handed you one of the drinks. “Let’s find somewhere to sit and finish the drink, I’ll take you home after.”

You gulped, the anxiety starting to consume you again. “O-Okay.”

Jungkook seemed to notice the nervousness in the tone of your voice as he looked at you, but he didn’t say anything. You two walked towards a nearby bench outside the building and sat down. It was chilly and you could see the wind blowing his hair nicely, making him look straight out of a movie scene. 

“Thanks… for the boba.” You said, a little nervous. 

“Chaewon kinda gave me an offer again…” 

“Oh.” You said, avoiding his eyes. “How did that go?”

“I don’t know I’m still thinking about it.”

“I see.” You said, trying not to sound too unenthusiastic about it. 

“She said you don’t wanna be involved anymore though.” He stopped walking. “Did I do something wrong??? If it’s about what happened last time I’m terribly sorry…”

“No! Jungkook, you’re not the one who should be apologizing here!” You sighed. 

“Why?”

You couldn’t find yourself to explain further. “You should just say yes, it literally means no harm.”

“But why don’t you wanna help out anymore?!”

One thing about Jungkook was that he sure was one hell of a hard headed man. 

“I just have more stuff I need to handle outside work and I don’t have the time.” You lied. 

Jungkook looked at you with doubt but nodded anyway. “But we’re okay though, right?”

The big round eyeballs were looking at you, as if pleading. Who would say no to that. 

**

At this point you were sure there was something wrong with you. 

You knew Jungkook had to come today for some extra footages. That was why you were trying your hardest to not leave your room and made yourself look busy. Hoseok seemed to notice your weird behavior but this time the man said nothing and let you be. 

You managed to avoid your friend for an insufferable few hours, until you had to go to relieve yourself. You saw Chaewon and Jimin first, but then the person who you were suppose to avoid popped out from the restroom, seemingly just done changing back to his own clothes. 

Your eyes met immediately and of course his first reaction was to flash you the brightest smile he could. You could tell there was a hint of awkwardness in it, but you didn’t want to further ponder on it. 

You waved back timidly, hurrying yourself to the toilet. You even spent a good ten minutes there, hoping they’d leave, but when you were done, Chaewon and Jungkook were still chatting in front. 

Chaewon smiled in defeat and grabbed you by your arm. “I just got rejected.” 

You widened your eyes and instantly jerked your head towards your friend. The guy only smiled in return. 

“Guess you guys are really a bundle, huh? Maybe I should consider asking our tech support guy.” She chuckled. 

“Why don’t you just date for real? I could introduce you to some guys.” Jungkook said. 

“No, not right now at least.” She giggled. “Too bad, you can’t help me anymore, it’s not exactly easy to find people who would just agree to this.”

“Really?” Jungkook voiced. “I thought you’ve done this before.”

“Why do you think I even paid your friend here just so you could say yes?” She laughed, not knowing the information she had just revealed. 

“Oh, you also got paid?”

“Excuse me, if you guys don’t mind I still got work left undone.” 

Without looking back you quickly escaped the scene and half-ran to your room. Neither of them came looking for you afterwards so you assumed you were at least safe for the day. 

That was again until you saw a certain Bambi eyed, boba ball looking man waiting for you at the front entrance. 

“You finished early today.” He waved. “Wanna get some corndog? I—“

“Jungkook, why aren’t you mad at me?”

The guy looked at you for a second before speaking. “Why should I be angry at you again?”

You sighed. “I got paid without you knowing. I basically sold you.” You looked away, trying to control your emotion. 

You heard his sigh and his shoulders drooped as he walked closer to you. “No, you didn’t. I also got paid and I enjoyed doing the job.”

“If you enjoyed it then what’s the difference if I’m involved or not? I’m sure you don’t need my help.”

“Do I really have to spell it out for you?” He took a last sip of the drink in his hand before setting it aside. “I only agreed just so I can spend time with you more, dummy.”

You were lost of words.

“I thought having a crush on you was a phase but it turns out I really do like you.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh dear, I hope I’m not making this weird for you.” He chuckled nervously. 

Your mouth went slightly ajar as you froze in place. Jungkook liked you? 

“I’m sorry again for that day. I tried to kiss you, it was weird and you seemed really scared. I still can’t get that image out of my head.” Seeing you being all silent he started to panic. “Say something… please.” 

You were still processing the whole thing. First thing your friend having feelings for you, second being you seemingly discovering that you were not opposed to the idea and your heart was beating so fast it could explode in any moment. So the weird feeling you had been feeling the past few days, weeks even, was something after all. 

You looked up at him, eyes almost teary. “Hold on let me process this.” 

“I’m so sorry, you don’t have to say anything back! I’m just gonna go—“ 

“I like you too.” You shyly smiled. 

“Oh.” The guy’s cheeks turned pink as he giddily smiled back. “That’s nice…” 

“Uh huh.” You giggled. 

“So, wanna hold hands?” He looked away as he offered his hand to you. 

You expected him to be more on the confident playboy type now, guess you were wrong. Guess the same boy you knew still existed. 

You smiled, cheeks turning red as well as you took his hand. “You are such a nerd.” 

Both of you walked hand in hand that night, feeling all warm inside despite the cold night air. 

Thank you for reading! 📸

[holyblonded]

‘merica baby | stargirl

pairings: uswnt x teen!reader

summary: your first camp with the senior team

warnings: estrella and sonnet 😭

notes: estrella menacing on a different continent alert 🗣️🗣️

The sharp thud of your foot striking the ball echoes through the training ground, followed by the unmistakable snap of the net rippling as the ball rockets into the bottom corner.

“Again. Top left this time,” the assistant coach calls, tossing another ball into your path.

You barely break stride, your body moving on instinct. A sharp touch to control, a quick glance, and then, boom. Another strike, that lands right into the left corner of the goal.

From across the field, a group of veterans watches you closely.

“Damn,” Kelley mutters, arms crossed as she observes the drill. “She’s got a cannon on her.”

“Yeah,” Alex agrees, eyebrows raised slightly. “And she’s hitting those. Not just power, placement too.”

Megan lets out a low whistle. “Kid’s a sniper.”

“Didn’t she leave the Spanish youth team?” Sonnett asks, tilting her head. “Like, just dipped?”

“Yeah,” Alex nods. “There was some shady stuff going on with a coach, and she called them out. Said she’d never play for them again.”

That gets some approving nods from the group.

“Takes guts,” Megan says, watching as you send another shot flying into the top bins like it’s nothing. “Especially at her age. It’s admirable.”

“Wonder what she’s like?” Sonnett muses. “She’s been all business since she got here. Intense.”

Right on cue, Tobin and Christen stroll over, looking smug.

“Oh, she’s funny,” Tobin says casually.

The vets turn to them, eyebrows raised.

“You met her?” Alex asks.

Christen grins. “Yeah. We ran into her when she landed. Sweet kid. A bit mischievous.”

“Mischievous?” Kelley repeats, intrigued.

Tobin nods, smirking. “Cute too. We like her.”

With a shared glance, the veterans decide it’s time to introduce themselves properly.

As you line up another shot, you hear footsteps approaching. You glance up to see Megan, Alex, Kelley, and Sonnett standing nearby, watching you with amused expressions.

Megan gestures toward the goal. “You trying to break the net, or…?”

You wipe your face with the sleeve of your training top and shrug. “Just making sure it knows who’s in charge.”

Sonnett snickers. “I like her already.”

Alex steps forward, offering her hand. “We just wanted to come say hi. Welcome to the team, Y/n.”

You shake her hand, glancing at the others as they introduce themselves. “I go by Estrella.”

Megan grins. “We were just talking about you.”

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Tobin and Christen said you’re funny,” Kelley says, nudging you playfully. “You hiding that from us?”

A slow smirk tugs at your lips. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just waiting for the perfect moment.”

Megan throws her head back laughing. “Oh, she’s good.”

“Yeah,” Alex agrees, clapping you on the shoulder. “I think you’re gonna fit in just fine, kid.”

“I’m fine, Ale. I promise to call you before I head to training tomorrow. Love you, bye.”

You set the phone down, hoping to catch some shut eye, but as soon as you flip over in your bed you are met with the eyes of Emily Sonnet. Instead of screaming you stare back oddly.

“Is this is what it’s going to be like in America?” You questioned allowed.

Emily laughed off your comment and held out a hand, as if she had just made the most normal entrance in the world. “Welcome to the USWNT, rookie. You’re mine now.”

You blinked. “I—what?”

Sonnett grinned. “We’re pranking the team. Right now. Get up.”

Before you could protest, she yanked you out of bed, shoving a roll of toilet paper into your hands. “We have about an hour before anyone starts waking up. Let’s make it count.”

And just like that, you were running down the hotel hallway with Emily, trying not to laugh too loudly as you worked your way through the rooms.

You both snuck into Kelley and Crystal’s room, careful not to wake them. Emily pulled out a Sharpie and drew an elegant mustache on Kelley’s face, while you gently placed a cup of water on the top of the slightly ajar bathroom door, ready to tip over as soon as someone went in.

Before leaving, you whispered to Emily, “Think they’ll murder us in the morning?”

“Oh, absolutely,” she whispered back.

The next on the list were Lindsey and Rose. The two were dead asleep, so you simply rearranged all their furniture to be slightly off. The lamp was upside down, their shoes were swapped, and Rose’s training gear was mysteriously replaced with an oversized hoodie labeled PROPERTY OF SONNET.

This time for the Mewis Sisters, you left a small Bluetooth speaker hidden under their bed, set to play an ominous whispering sound at random intervals.

You heard the sisters exclaims of confusion, making you and Emily snicker.

Finally, feeling victorious, you and Emily sprinted down the hall to your final target: Tobin and Christen’s room.

The plan was simple, flip their room inside out, maybe saran-wrap their door. But as soon as Emily reached for the handle, the door swung open on its own.

Tobin and Christen stood there, arms crossed.

You froze mid-step. Emily, to her credit, at least tried to play it cool. “Oh, hey, guys! Crazy seeing you here.”

Tobin raised an eyebrow. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Uh…” You glanced at Emily. She was no help, suddenly very invested in the carpet pattern.

Christen sighed. “Emily, go back to your room.”

Emily grinned, clapped you on the shoulder, and whispered, “Good luck, kid,” before disappearing down the hall.

You gulped. Tobin turned to you, shaking her head. “You’re coming with us.”

You frowned. “Where exactly am I—”

“You’re sleeping in Alex’s room tonight,” Christen interrupted, already texting. “You clearly need better supervision. I don’t even know how you and Emily got paired together.”

Your jaw dropped. “Are you serious? It was Emily’s idea!”

Tobin smirked. “And you went along with it.”

Minutes later, you found yourself standing in Alex Morgan’s room, rubbing the back of your neck as she tried to look stern—but you could tell she was holding back a smile.

“So,” Alex sighed, arms crossed. “You and Sonnett decided to prank half the team on your first night?”

You shrugged, a smirk growing on your face. “Technically, she decided. I just… assisted.”

Alex pinched the bridge of her nose but finally chuckled. “Alright, troublemaker, go to bed. I expect you bright and early at breakfast.”

“You know, you remind me of my mami. Your names are similar and you have the same disappointed looks on your face.”

You crawled into the spare bed, grinning slightly. Sure, you got caught and you got sentenced to Alex’s Supervision Jail, but it was better than your youth team days.

You should’ve known that waking up to Emily Sonnett looming over you at six in the morning meant trouble.

“Rise and shine, partner in crime,” she whispered, grinning like a madwoman.

You groaned and rolled over, burying your face in your pillow. “Sonnett, it’s six. In the morning.”

“Exactly. Prime time for pranking. Now get up, we’re going big at breakfast.”

Your eyes snapped open in interest as you squinted at her. “Define big.”

Emily’s grin widened. “I’m talking Hall of Fame-level pranking. Something they’ll talk about for years.”

You sat up, now fully intrigued. “I’m listening.”

She held up a small bag of sugar packets. Or what should have been sugar packets.

“That’s salt,” you deadpanned.

Emily nodded proudly. “Indeed, it is.”

It was then that you knew today was going to be amazing.

The team had barely started rolling into the dining hall when you and Emily made your move. Some players were still half-asleep—Lindsey had bedhead, Sam was blinking blearily at her cereal, and Rose was sitting next to her, dead-eyed, barely functioning.

Perfect. You took a deep breath, then dramatically launched yourself onto the floor like you’d just been hit by a freight train.

“MY LEG!” you howled, clutching your shin like you’d been mortally wounded.

Chaos. Immediate chaos.

Crystal Dunn jumped up so fast she nearly flipped her chair. “Oh my God, are you okay?!”

Kelley almost choked on her coffee.

Rose, still groggy, blinked at you in confusion. “Did… did you just fall on your own?”

Meanwhile, behind the distraction, Emily was working her magic.

She snuck behind the food counter, swapping out all the sugar in the coffee station with salt. Then, she grabbed the last plate of pancakes, lifted the top one, and doused the bottom layer with extra-spicy hot sauce before neatly stacking them back.

Her final masterpiece? Swiping Megan Rapinoe’s phone and changing the autocorrect settings so that every time she typed yes, it autocorrected to I love Sonnett and Estrella.

Crystal was now kneeling beside you, a hand on your shin. “Where does it hurt?” You blinked. Sat up. Stretched your leg.

“Never mind,” you said brightly. “I’m good.”

The room fell into silence.

Crystal blinked at you.

Kelley groaned. “This is what happens when we let Sonnett befriend the rookies.”

The first victim: Lindsey Horan.

She took a long sip of her coffee, expecting sweet, comforting caffeine. Instead…

“WHAT THE—” She spat it back into her cup so aggressively that it splashed onto her sleeve.

“WHO DID THIS? WHO REPLACED THE SUGAR WITH SALT?!”

Emily and you kept your heads down, shoveling food into your mouths like innocent angels.

Then Megan Rapinoe took a bite of her pancakes and immediately contorted her face.

“WHAT THE ACTUAL F—”

She lunged for her water, chugging it in record time while frantically fanning her mouth.

“WHO DID THIS?!” she wheezed.

Emily covered her mouth, shoulders shaking. You could barely hold it together.

Then came Kelley O’Hara. She picked up her phone, started typing, then frowned.

“…I love Sonnett and Estrella?” she read out loud, confused.

Her head snapped up.

Emily lost it. She was laughing so hard she nearly fell off her chair. Now, the entire room was onto you.

Tobin stood with her arms crossed. “You two are menaces.”

Christen sighed, rubbing her temples. “We should’ve kept her in our room last night.”

Alex, ever the responsible adult, stood up. “Alright, you know the rule. If you pull off this big of a prank, you pay for it.”

Emily elbowed you. “This is where she makes us run.”

Kelley, still trying to fix her phone, smirked. “Oh, you bet they’re running.”

And that’s how you and Emily found yourselves running endless laps around the training pitch while the entire team enjoyed their breakfast.

Some of the devils even cheered when you passed.

“Was it worth it?” Emily huffed beside you.

You glanced at the dining hall window, where Megan was still chugging water, Lindsey was glaring at her salty coffee, and Kelley was angrily texting while her phone kept auto-correcting.

You grinned. “No doubt, man.”

[neolithicsheep]

Ok so you're looking at the aftermath of Helene and you're thinking "shit, how would I keep my phone charged? What about my neighbors?" and you have some outdoor space and some cash. Your friendly formerly off grid sheep farmer is here to help.

You need this set up right here:

To that you will need to add:

Y connectors:

The 100aH (amp Hour) deep cycle battery of your choice - lead acid AGM will be cheaper, lithium (LiFePo) is more expensive but lasts much longer.

Finally, you need a small pure sine wave inverter like this one: https://a.co/d/70vRd79

Plug the panels into the Y connectors then into the single wire to run to the charge controller. They are now connected in parallel. Take them outside to a sunny spot and face them south and prop them up at about a 45 degree angle. This isn't perfect but it will be good enough.

Connect your battery and charge controller. Connect the panels to the charge controller. All of the places to do this are labeled and all you need is a Phillips screwdriver. I recommend doing it once in a non-disaster situation so you know you can do it but you'll be fine. Boom, you are getting electricity from the sun!

The inverter draws power even when it's not running so don't leave it hooked up when you're not using it. When someone needs to charge their phone, put those alligator clips on the matching color battery posts, turn the inverter on, and plug in the phone/radio. Voilà! A single 100aH battery is not going to run a bunch of things but it will help keep cell phones charged without using up the gas in your car.

The panels are weatherproof but everything else needs to be protected by the way so you'll need to set this up in a shed or garage or in the house. Lead acid batteries can produce hydrogen gas when being charged but just having one isn't a big risk.

FAQ:

Yes, you can permanently mount the panels to your roof if you own your home etc. They're designed for that!

It is true that places sell "solar generators" - those are a charge controller, battery, and an inverter in one box at a very high price point. When a component goes bad you will be unable to replace the component and must replace the entire $1000 box. They are also not upgradeable or expandable, this is.

You do not have to buy Renogy, I recommend them because they kept me in electricity for the years I was off grid.

You do not have to buy the kit, you can buy the components of it as and when you can afford them!

Remember to keep your battery on a trickle charger.

[e1dritchjackal0pe]

𝔚𝔞𝔱𝔠𝔥 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔗𝔢𝔢𝔱𝔥

Summary: Tired of being trapped in the suffocation and monotony of your life, you make the hair triggered decision to abandon it all and escape to an eccentric town in California.

You never expected to get spirited away by a charming man one night on the boardwalk. But you should have known from the look in his eyes that he was nothing but bad luck.

Warnings: Fem bodied reader, fem pronouns. 18+ MDI. Oral (F!Receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, sex outdoors, mild gore (blood drinking). Reader is dodging red flags like it's a profession. Not proofread.

Notes: 14k words. I rewatched The Lost Boys a few nights ago and couldn't resist writing for one of my favorites.

Santa Carla is almost jarring to witness. Even in the day, when the mid sun is bright and blunt on the shifting scape of graffiti and grimy corners and sidewalks marred with old gum, it's unabashed in its abnormality. It's entirely unlike the hushed, quaint little streets of your hometown, with its lush lawns and the little elderly ladies in their Sunday best, speaking amongst each other in gossip that's quiet and passive aggressive. A complete one-eighty of the punks that skulk down these avenues with black smeared around their eyes and worn cigarettes dangling between their pierced lips while they lug old boom boxes over their shoulders, spitting out metal and rock and roll. 

Just the sight of them would have been enough to send the old committee in your town into a conniption, banding together to drive the demonic filth from the city limits. But here, no one bats an eye to this sort of thing. It isn't shocking to the locals to see a man who's old enough to be your grandfather gliding down the pavement in hot pink booty shorts that are tight enough to show what he's packing. 

Your own mother had nearly been sent into a spiral when she had heard about you wearing a crop top - she hadn't even seen you herself. Someone had snitched to her apparently. Your best bet is Audrey. She's always bored on her shifts at the market, sitting at her register with a glazed overlook in her eyes until she manages to find something worth blabbering about. You're sure she had all but flown over to the phone on her lunchbreak to snitch and warn your mother that she had spied you perusing over the ice cream freezers with your stomach shamelessly bared for the entire world to see. 

It's pretty embarrassing to have your mother barrel her way into your kitchenette at the middle of 10 p.m. to scold you for "acting like a harlot." 

But here it's normal. People are dressed in so many different styles. Sporting hair dyed from fried bleach blonde to bright neon green; decked out in leather, ripped jeans; women and men alike strolling around in tight swimwear that leaves little to the imagination with diamond bellybutton jewelry that glints in the sun. Tattoos on tanned skin and manicured nails with leopard print. 

Your mind still hasn't caught up with it all yet. It's like you've stepped into a music video, or another world entirely. It's like the air is permanently charged. Electric and humming, pulsing like something alive. Fluttering in your stomach like a flock of nervous butterflies. But that's probably just the anxiety. You've dangled between pure excitement and tension for the past few days that you've been here. Forcefully fixed there by the stubborn ball of apprehension that's tucked itself behind your sternum like a heavy rock. It's almost makes you nauseous. So caught up in your nerves to truly let go and enjoy the moment. To revel in the reality that you've finally escaped. That you've finally managed to wrangle yourself free of shitty little town in the middle of nowhere and have run off to a place where no one will notice you. Where you can blend into the masses and disappear without the worry of judgement. 

It's just not that easy though. It never is. There's guilt behind your panic. The dread that you've just abandoned her. Left her without little more than a letter tapped to her front door before you shoved most of your belongings into a couple of suitcases, took up all of the money you've saved up over the past three summers and vanished in the early morning without a trace. 

It was dumb maybe. But you prefer desperate. You had to get out. You had to do it while you still had a chance, while you're still young and hopeful. Before Gallatan could eat you up of all your worth and turn you into one of those judgmental ladies perched out in front of one of its buildings with a mean scowl on your face. You had to do something before you lost sight of yourself or became the woman your mother wanted you to be. All barefoot and pregnant with another baby on your hip while your husband - probably Oliver Palmer if she could have a say so - was busy at work. 

The idea to run had snuck into your head, all forbidden and frenzied. You had shunned it for as long as you could, ignoring it while you droned away at your job, pouring the same grouchy bastards' hot coffees and running the same sunny side up eggs and suspiciously damp pancakes in trade for measly tips. And then one day, for no particular reason at all, it had all just become too much. Too stagnant. Too gray. You had to go before you'd suffocate, and that's how you found yourself cruising down the highway with the window rolled down to let the crisp air in, still damp and fresh with morning dew. 

You couldn't look back now. You wouldn't. Still, that wouldn't keep the guilt from biting at you. From nipping at your heart, a little bit at a time. It stung. It twisted in your chest like a knife, your selfishness. But you'd been selfless your entire life. Dating the man she had wanted you to date, taking the ballet classes that she had wanted you to take, wearing your hair up the way she wanted. For once you were going to put yourself first, even if it was a tad foolish. 

Your newfound liberation didn't banish the anxiety away completely though. The first night here once the high had finally worn off, you had been forced to face reality. And the unfamiliar walls of the dingy hotel didn't help, with its shabby wallpaper and linens that smelt faintly of generic detergent and cigarette smoke. It was alien. Unnatural almost, the chirp of crickets traded in for the rhythmic thumping of music pouring out from the bar across the street. You had stayed inside, hidden away by the locked door, trying desperately to tune out the noise of your own scattered thoughts with the audio of the TV. Using the soft, watery light that spilled out from the screen as a nightlight to try and ward off the confusion and unease in the pit of your gut. 

Your sleep had been difficult. Spent tossing and turning on the mattress, its springs creaking lightly with each shift as you tried in vain to ignore your own guilt. Helplessly fighting off the images of your mother pacing about her living room, wearing a pathway into the blush-colored carpet, nipping at the edges of her polished nails with tears in her eyes. The urge to reach over for the landline on the nightstand had nudged at you so insistently that you had to unplug it to keep from dialing her number. You knew that if she answered, if you heard the sound of her voice drifting out in that worried, angry stream that you'd be unable to keep yourself from packing yourself into your car and driving all those miles back to Gallatan. 

The morning after you had been unable to resist the allure of the call from outside. Like a slave to your impulses, you had allowed yourself to get caught up in the magnetism of it all. It's as though the scent of the sea had coiled around your throat, salt and wind taking ahold of you to usher you into the wonder of it all. You had spent the entire day exploring all of the shops that Santa Carla had to offer. Everything from quaint little outlets full of sage sticks and minerals that claimed feats such as granting fortune or banishing negativity, to music shops, and boutiques with lingerie and toys that you'd only ever seen in Playgirl magazines and cheesy sex tapes hidden in the back of your town's video store. 

It was a wonder in every corner. Everything in the imagination placed to draw your attention. To lure you in. And it had succeeded, stringing you along. Like a moth drawn to dazzling lights you had let it take you. Santa Carla is always a spectacle, but at night is when it truly comes alive, and the boardwalk is the pentacle. It's as though the entire town is lit up in a thousand individual pyres, burning and flickering, a kaleidoscope of neon and thrills. 

It sounds dramatic, but your first night on the boardwalk had nearly left you breathless. It was a place that's likeness you've witnessed in movies, or maybe the pathetic little county fair Gallatan throws each year. But the tiny kiosk of buttered corn-on-the-cobs and the pony rides are nothing in comparison. 

You had felt like a kid in a candy store despite your initial apprehension. Once you had seen it in all of its glory, wooden pathways swarming with chaotic masses, and carnival games and seedy stores adorned along the streets; sugar and salt and the musk of weed tainting the air in a distinct brand all cultivate to create a unique kind of charm, you had been unable resist.  

Like thousands before you, you had fallen for Santa Carla, like a mouse falling into a vat of honey. 

And it doesn't take you long for you to give in a splurge a little, ignoring your limited funds in favor of spoiling yourself. It's only something small, like finally trading out the pair of corduroy pants that you'd worn for years in favor of a couple skirts. Your favorite is lightyears away from anything you would have been able to wear before. Tight, dark, buttery leather that molds smoothly to your hips. Just low enough that you don't feel exposed but still skimming up past your knees. It's beyond any of the clothes that you had allowed yourself to purchase, but it feels nice to wear. Even though you still find yourself subconsciously tugging the hem down every once in a while, there's something undeniable freeing about wearing it. Like some kind of middle finger to all of the people who had kept you stunted and trapped. And as a final fuck you, you had immediately tossed your old pants in one of the trashcans settled outside the shop. 

You've been out here every night since, basking in the energy and the buzz that prickles over the boardwalk. A sort of treat for yourself after spending all of the hours in the day job searching, walking into all of the vintage themed diners and hole-in-the-wall thrift shops to turn in your applications. You don't have a long-term plan as of now. If you're planning on staying here. If that's even a possibility for you. But it'd be nice to have some extra cash while you try and figure that out. Something to keep you afloat while you try to course your future. 

Tonight is just as charged as last night. Shifting and alive with the bodies of tourists and locals alike, all looking for entertainment. You wander aimlessly, people-watching as you go, admiring the different kinds of groups as they all meander around in search of excitement. Children clutching onto the stuffies that their parents have won at carnival games; a gaggle of girls laughing happily as they cling onto each other as they navigate through the crowd; a couple walked by you in a rush earlier, the boyfriend spilling out what sounded like desperate apologies that were going completely unheard. 

Despite the speed of everything else around you, you're content to take your time, strolling around while you idlily drink your soda from the cherry-colored straw. You aren't in any particular rush to get anywhere. The dusk is still visible, occasionally peeking past the buildings and the horizon above the sea, all thin and dusty in a rich blue. You have all the time in the world to enjoy yourself, at least for now. You have no desire to go and hold yourself up in your dingy hotel room, clicking through basic cable to try and find something worth watching while you hopelessly chew through another cheap delivery pizza. 

The excitement is contagious out here, and you're in the mood to indulge. You let your feet carry into a record shop, a quick glance at the magenta neon sign above declaring it as one of the many music shops displayed along the boardwalk. The cashier posted behind the front desk shoots you a lazy nod before quickly returning to the porn mag boldly held in his hands. You grimace when you see it, but it doesn't keep you from drifting further into the dimly lit depths of the store, glancing over the many aisles of records as you go. 

You've burnt yourself through most of your music, playing them ceaselessly in favor to listening to spotty radio stations that turned to static whenever you drove through mountains. If you hear another song off of Like a Virgin you might actually lose your mind. 

It takes you a moment of searching the place before you find the cassette tapes, most of them organized in the back of the shop in shelves secured to the walls. The variety is a little overwhelming and the flimsy laminated signs taped above the racks did little to help. Either people have just been shoving tapes back wherever they fit, or the employees have been doing a lousy job of organizing the shelves, because despite claiming to be arranged by genre, you've found Metallica mixed in with Duran Duran, and Def Leopard and Anthrax placed with Prince. 

It doesn't bother you much though, and you keep searching over the massive collection of music, stepping around other customers and squinting through the dim golden lighting to read the album names properly. You barely notice it at first. A light brush along the back of your neck. A pressure that prickles and skips down your spine. It's so soft that you almost mistaken it for the press of your shirt nudging at your back, but it feels different. 

Like the weight of a stare. Warm and insistent. It has buried animal instincts welling up to the surface. It's kneejerk when you sweep a searching glance over the few people dotted around the shop, skipping over faces that don't meet your stare. They're all caught up in their own personal bubbles to notice your discomfort. 

Somehow, it only makes you feel more on edge. Viewed by a potential danger that you can't see. You don't know why it makes your breath snag, but it does. Someone is watching you. But no matter where you look, you can't find them. It has your mouth running dry, even while you assure yourself that it's nothing, nervously tapping at the straw in your soda to distract yourself. Something electric is trembling down your spine, magnetic and alien. It grips ahold of your neck, looping around your throat like static fingers, catching you on a string to tug you around on your feet. Your focus shifts somewhat frantically, with the hope to reassure yourself that no one might be sneaking glances at you, and then, your stare is suddenly moving all on its own. When you notice him and you have to wonder how you missed him in the first place. 

He's standing off on the other side of the store, separated by rows of music. You notice his fingers calmly flipping through vinyl's, the silver rings banding his fingers winking softly in the red neon spilling out from behind him. Your eyes seem to have a mind of their own as they continue in their sweep up to admire more of him. He looks like a rockstar. Like he had leapt out from an album cover, with fluffy long blond hair. It's messy, spilled out like a lion's mane, wild tips glinting in shades of gold and the cherry red that's projected from the neon. 

The first thought you have is dumbstruck and a little captivated: He's gorgeous. He looks like the type of guy that would be spotted making out with models at some exclusive Hollywood club, not here in some dingy shop with a blow-up doll and random movie posters taped to the ceiling. 

His eyes shift up then, sudden and unwavering as they land directly on you. It's shocking as they pin you down, prompting a tight gasp from your lungs. His stare is firm but playful, shooting through your body like an electric current. You turn back around like you've been caught doing something you shouldn't, latching you attention back onto the cassette tapes like they're some sort of lifeline all while your cheeks burn with embarrassment. 

You didn't miss the amused smirk that had nudged at his lips before you looked away. Almost as though he was expecting you to have been admiring him, all cocky. Self-assured. The hazy air seems too thick now, the ting of cigarette smoke stinging at your lungs is all acrid and heavy. You could choke on it, but you're determined to remain in place. You keep still, secure in your spot as you search the disorganized tapes. Seeing but not really noticing them anymore, the letters and titles all melting into nonsense as you tap at the sweating paper cup clutched in your palm with your fingertips. 

You don't know why you feel so nervous. You haven't been like this since your first crush on Christian Bakely. It's bashful. Almost timid like a juvenile, fickle attraction that you have when you're young. It makes you want to scold yourself for developing some sort of superficial, puppy love for the first hot guy you've seen since you've left home.

You will yourself to move down the aisle a little more, going slowly to at least try to appear unbothered while you've become horrendously aware of yourself. A part of you entertains the idea of leaving. There are a million other stores just like this posted along the edges of the boardwalk, but you're quick to squash down your unease. You aren't going to run out over something so stupid. He's probably already forgotten your blatant staring anyway, traded in his amusement in favor of flipping through records and forgot that you even exist. 

You try to do the same. 

Your attention perks up when you notice a tape that gets your focus and you're quick to pluck it free from its place wedged between the rest. You listen to the song pumping softly from the overhead speakers, falling back into the gentle lull of it all. The delicate hum of the crowd shifting just outside, the chill of the hard plastic casing in your palm, the sweet syrup of the soda on your tongue as you take another sip. It's gentle. Calm in a way that isn't curated. 

"Nice choice."

The voice drifts from over your shoulder, but before you fully register it, you're already jumping. You think your heart skips when you do, fluttering briefly as you jolt on your feet. 

"Jesus Christ," you hiss through your teeth. You can't hide the glare on your face when you turn to look at the figure standing beside you, but your mind just about falls silent when you realize that it's the pretty blonde that you had been gawking at. 

"Shit. Sorry, that was my fault." He holds one of his hands up in a placating gesture, like you're some cornered animal that might startle otherwise. Except he doesn't look all the apologetic. He's smirking, almost like he's pleased. Eyes all bright with mirth like you've done something funny. "Didn't mean to make you jump." 

You don't believe him. 

"It's fine." You offer a weak smile, torn from your nerves which are frayed between adrenaline and the warm flutter in your chest. Somehow, he's even prettier up close. His features are sharp with a strong, a straight nose that connects to high, pronounced cheekbones like you've seen on old statues. His lips are plump. Rosy and pink. But it's his eyes that really get you, glittering faintly under the light in a blue that's too soft for the mischief lurking around the edges. It takes you a moment to remember what he had initially said, and you have to all but wrangle the delicate thank you out from your throat. All while you know that there's no way in hell that someone like him is listening to Cindi Lauper in his free time. 

He doesn't look like any of the men from your hometown. Most of them were just as clean cut and blue-collar as the rest, with worn steel toed boots and baseball caps smeared with grime and sweat. They were handsome in the well-mannered, country kind of way. Hats off at the dinner table sort of guys, even though more than half of them have wound up drunk and lost in someone else's field more than once. But this guy was the type that you've been a victim to fantasizing about more than once. Helpless daydreams about unobtainable rockers. 

You can smell his cologne with how close he's placed himself next you, rich and masculine and heavy with something that smells earthy. Damp like dark soil. It has your mouth going dry. It you want to lean in towards him to draw more of it into your lungs, but thankfully you snap out of it before you could actually act on the urge. It makes you horrendously aware of the face that you're staring at him again. 

You snap out of your daze, casting your attention back over the shelves to keep yourself from shamelessly ogling him any more than you already have. God, you're like some lovestruck middle schooler all of a sudden. 

"You're not from around here, are you?" He remains at your side, nearly brushing his arm with yours while he briefly pulls a tape from its shelf before poking it back in. Something tells you that he's pretending to inspect them just as much as you are now. 

"What gave it away?" You dare to shoot him a glance. The tension that had turned your muscles taught finally beginning to thaw. 

"Nothing," he shrugs. Then he's shooting you another lopsided grin. " I'd just figure that I'd remember seeing a babe like you walking around." 

It's undeniably corny, but there's something in the way that he delivers it, the way that he carries himself that sells its charm. You find a weak laugh bubbling from your chest, still nervous but also reluctantly content. You shift down the aisle a few feet and like a brand-new shadow he follows. 

"I bet you say that to all the tourists that come through here." You draw another sip from your drink, and you're a little disgruntled to find that it's almost empty. 

"I may have used it once or twice," he admits. There's no hesitation when he says it, still displaying as much ease and bravado as he has been. 

"And has it ever actually worked for you?"

"I'd like to say that I'll be successful for a second time, but I guess we'll see how tonight goes." 

The look you give him is playfully unimpressed, openly toying with him in a way that seems oddly natural. All of that pervious uncertainty shifting and melting down into something new but fluid. His eyebrows perk up in mock disbelief, an arm raising to flatten a palm to his chest as though he's shocked by your answer. 

"Damn, shot down already." 

"Afraid so." You mirror his shrug from earlier before slipping around the corner made by the edge of a rack, continuing in your search. It feels a little like a chase as he trails after you, all lazy in his pace but no less motivated to keep you in his sight. 

"So what brought you to Santa Carla?" he asks from behind. 

"Kind of just passing through, I guess. Needed a break, you know." 

He nods like he might understand. "Well you lucked out coming here. There's always something going on; parties, drugs." He pauses for a minute. When his voice dips out its right up against your ear, coiling low and dark to tremble down your spine. "Murder."  

You spin around to face him then, a gasp snagging in your throat. But when you see him, he isn't close behind you at all but a few feet off. He almost seems delighted to have your focus back on him. Confusion nestles in the back of your mind. You could have sworn that he was directly behind you. That you had felt the subtle weight of his chest on your back, the brush of his breath on the nape of your neck, but he would have had to have leapt back to be standing as far away from you as he is now. 

Odd. 

You clear your throat, trying to collect yourself as you latch back onto the memory of his voice. "Wai- Murder?" 

"Oh yeah, people die here all the time." It's almost bored how he says it, like his discussing some monotonous fact and not tragedies. "It's like a nightly thing." 

You wait for some kind of a punchline. Or some reassurances that he's only joking but it doesn't come. He must pick up that you're expecting some kind of explanation, but he must find it funny because that smile is back, just hinting at the corners of his mouth.  

"Murder capital." His eyes get a little big when he speaks, somehow entirely serious and teasing all at once. "There's been talk for years about anything from a reclusive serial killer hiding away in the hills to a black market, or maybe devil worshippers." 

Figures that in an attempt to escape from your old life that you'd manage to flee to a place where killings are apparently "a nightly thing." An extreme exaggeration you hope. You can practically imagine your mother laughing at you, all snark as she revels in your less than stellar luck. Like some kind of joke from the universe. But now that you think of it, this town would be a prime place for a black market or a cult or whatever. With the massive influx of visitors that rush through here in the summer, it must be easy to snatch people up off the streets without too many noticing. 

He laughs at your troubled expression. The silver-plated belt that he fashioned to the shoulder of his coat chimes softly as he shifts himself into your space with a grin, flashing teeth that look sharp. "Don't worry, I'll keep you safe." 

You still haven't entirely adjusted to his blatant flirting. Sure, you've encountered your fair share of horn dogs at your past job. Men who would leave their phone numbers on their checks or shamelessly stare at your tits and ass while ordering. Still, you never had someone approach you out in the open like this, apart from maybe at the bar when egos are high and liquored up.  

But he's clearly confident. Dripping with a roguish charm that's magnetic. You could almost call it intoxicating, the energy around him is palpable. The way he moves is rushed and light, like a puppy that's too hyper. 

"I think I'll manage on my own." But there's no snark in it. It's friendly. A warmth that he shares as you both exchange smiles. You pluck another cassette from its shelving, one you'd been eyeing during the conversation, but you can't manage to pry your attention entirely from him. "I mean, I don't even know your name. You could be a murderer or some cultist creeping around for his next sacrifice." 

"You found me out," he teases. Eyes shimmering and blue, all mischief. "There go my plans for the night." 

"Sorry about your luck." 

He shakes his head. "Nah, it's good. Besides, I think you might be too cute to cut up." 

"Oh, well thank you so much," you gush in a mimic of appreciation. 

"Of course," he jokes easily. He's holding a hand out then, his voice just a little bit more authentic as he waits for you to take it. "The name's Paul." 

You have to tuck your empty cup in the crook of your other arm to accept it. When you do it nearly shocks you how chilled his skin is. His fingers are cold, palm smooth and almost icy against the warmth of your own, but you don't pay it too much mind. Instead you give him your name, speaking it softly through a light smile. He repeats it under his breath, and you try to ignore the pleasant ripple of heat that runs through your body at the sound of it. How he cradles it on the tip of his tongue like he's testing it out and found that it tastes sweet. 

"So, are you still looking for some excitement?" 

You fall silent, eyeing him a little suspiciously. "It depends. What did you have in mind?" 

The grin that spreads across his face is much more puckish. Much more so than the ones before it. There's almost something dangerous there. A darker edge to his stare like you've lit a fire in him somehow. He nods down to the tapes clutched in your hand, and before you can realize it, he's taking them in his own. 

"These are the only ones you want?" he asks, backing away from you. It leaves you confused, watching him with your words lost in your throat. 

"Uh, yeah?" 

He hops back on his feet like an excited kid, jerking his chin like he wants you to follow him as he continues to walk backwards in the direction of the register. He doesn't pause for you to catch up, suddenly twisting on the heels of his boots. He acknowledges the cashier as he draws closer to the direction of the counter, but his lips have drawn up tight like he's repressing a laugh. Like he's in on a joke that you aren't. 

You feel like you're being guided by an invisible string as you urge yourself into a hesitant walk, squinting at him through a bewildered stare as you quicken your pace to keep up. But he doesn't switch gears to approach the register at all, instead he's making straight for the front door of the shop. The employee must come to the same conclusion as you do, because suddenly he's dropping his magazine to stand up from his chair with a jerk. A loud shout already raising up high to demand Paul to stop. 

Paul only tosses you a look over his shoulder, glancing back at you like he's confirming that you're still trailing after him, and when he sees you, he flashes an impish thousand-watt smile.

"C'mon! We gotta make a run for it."

And then he's bolting. Lurching towards the door with quickness of a high-strung dog let off its chain. A part of your brain stalls, and for a moment your body follows suit, freezing still for less than a split second but it feels like an hour as your mind splits down the middle between two decisions. The clerk is screaming, clammy skin flushed red with anger as he attempts to climb over the front counter like he means to body slam Paul in a tackle. But he's already shoving the glass door open, the bell above sounding his quick leave in a metallic cry. 

You should stay back. Keep far away from the random stranger that picked you out in the middle of a random store and is attempting to shop lift your cassette tapes, but before you can properly decide, your body is already in motion. You can hear your feet thumping across the carpet as you rush over to the door that's beginning to slip closed. 

"Oh, you fuckers!" The clerk yells so loudly that you're sure he's probably spitting. There's a violent clatter as the tray of lighters that were beside the register make contact with the ground in a messy thump. It has all the impact of a gunshot, and it's all it takes for your system to flood with a burst of adrenaline. You slip through the door before it can close in on you, escaping out into the chaos of the night like a bullet. 

Paul grips your arm once you're out, using it as leverage to guide and pull you through the oblivious crowd. He's cackling and howling into the air like a madman, practically skipping as he tugs you forward. You think that you might be laughing too, but it's hard to tell through the blur of it all. The world around you is a rush of colors, lights and sounds. Someone thumps against your shoulder as Paul ushers you through the sea of bodies, but his grip is firm, fixed tightly around your wrist like a cuff. 

The voice of reason chants in your head for you to jerk yourself from his hold. To vanish into the cover of the crowd and pretend that tonight never happened. But you don't do that. Against all common sense you allow yourself to be spirited away by some giggling maniac with a pretty face. 

His eyes are wild as he looks back over at you, the reflection from the lights of the nearby amusement park rides glinting bright in them. Everything about him might be a red flag, but like a fool you find yourself chasing after him. Running towards the rush; the excitement sparking under your skin and turning your blood white hot. He lifts the cassette's up, still secure in his hand as he waves them in the air like trophies. 

You aren't sure how long you two keep running for, but eventually you both slow to walk. The even pace allowing you to catch your breath as he guides you to a set of motorcycles that have been parked along the edge of the boardwalk, the back wheels nearly pressed up against the wooden railing. He releases your arm only so he's able to circle around the one at the end of the line with red rims.  

He holds your stare as he swings a leg over to mount the seat, making himself comfortable on the bike. Only then does he hand you the cassette tapes back, and you take them with shaky fingers. A product of the adrenaline that still thrums through your limbs like an electric current. You make sure to tuck the tapes safely in your jacket pocket. It seems dangerous to accept them. It feels good too. 

"You know, if you were trying to impress me, you didn't have to all that." 

"No?" his eyebrows perk up. "I wish you would have told me sooner then, babe." 

"Oh, so it's my fault then." 

"Nah. I steal shit all the time." 

You can't help but to scoff. Still, there's a bit of a genuine laugh in there too. He hums lowly, leaning forward to hang his wrists over the support of the bike's handlebars, spreading his thighs to get comfortable. You almost hate how pretty he is. It isn't normal. There are bonfires burning on the beach down below. The pyres reaching high enough that the light casted by the fire spills over his hair like sunlight, gold and amber and red. He almost seems otherworldly. Like a spirit that's been raised to tempt you. To lead you astray. God, you think you could let him. 

"The question still stands." He tilts his head, watching you expectantly. "Still lookin' for a thrill?" 

Time pauses again, churning down into a placid stream. This is another moment when you should say no. And it's right there, held just at the base of your throat. A small puff of air and the word slip out, materialize out on the warm summer air with a punch of finality. That's all it would take to cut this night short. To put a cap on all of it, bottling it all up so you could let it collect dust and become a distant memory. 

The voice of reason, bearing a striking resemblance to the sound of your mother's, echos in your head. Chanting from the sidelines for you to back away from him before he drags you down into a pit of trouble that you can't crawl out of. But when has doing anything she's wanted you to do gotten you anywhere? 

"Yeah, I think I am." That's your answer. 

"What are you waiting for?" 

He scoots himself forward, straightening his posture a little and slipping his hands around the handlebars. It's a clear enough invite, and you don't let the air around you both stagnate. You grimace a little when you drop your empty soda cup on the ground, leaving it to drop while you move to lift an arm up to grip onto his shoulder. Using it for stability as you swing your leg over the seat of the motorcycle. He doesn't waste any time starting it, kickstarting it before you've even sat down on the seat. 

You try to be mindful of your skirt as you lower yourself down onto the leather cushion. Tugging it down as low as it'll sit while scrunched up around your spread thighs. 

The bike is loud. It's engine purring in a great roar, metallic and sharp in your ears. It thrums under your legs, almost like a living, breathing thing. Pulsing as the engine hums and spits. You're quick to slip your arms around his waist, ignoring the stubborn layer of hesitation lurking underneath the exhilaration of it all. You cling on to him, shamelessly tucking your chin over his shoulder as you drape yourself over his back. He doesn't seem to mind, passing you a joyful glance, turning his head just enough that his nose almost brushes over yours. 

"Don't be shy now. Better hold on tight." 

That's the warning you get before he revs the engine, sending the bike into a jarring lurch. You yelp when the bike blazes off like a rocket, squeezing your hold around his middle tighter to keep yourself from blowing off the seat as he swerves it down another strip of the boardwalk. 

He's laughing again. Sounding like a madman as he suddenly directs the motorcycle to the left, smoothly jerking the front wheel to dip it into a turn. Your heart falls down to your ass when a descending staircase drops down in front of the bike. It seems as sudden and daunting as a cliff, but you don't have time to shout. Your cry stays lodged in your lungs, and you only have enough time to tuck your head into the crook of his neck, hiding your face in his hair just as the bike speeds down the steps in a quick glide. The bumps are just barely felt by the speed that he's gunned the motorcycle into, but it doesn't stop your stomach from flipping. 

He might be laughing, but it's difficult to tell if the vibrations rattling his ribcage are from the engine or not. But based off of what little you know of him; you wouldn't put it past him in finding your panic funny. 

The tires meet the loose sand with a brief drag, spinning for a fleeting second as the bike darts off like a bat out of hell. Once you can feel the solid ground rushing beneath you, you're able to get yourself to lift your head up from the safety of his neck, peeling your eyes open to sweep a cursory glance around your surroundings. 

You see the bonfires first. Burning and twisting in the night like glowing spires, flickering in molten amber towers that reach at the sky. People are scattered around them, some holding beer bottles while they dance. You can't hear it over the howl of the wind in your ears but you're sure that they're all laughing. All barely holding in their mirth as they cavort around the fires. And you can smell the smoke in the air, spicy and pungent, melding with the salt of the beach. 

It all passes by in a blur, the ocean little more than a pale, twisting smear. Foam tumbling over sand. But the rest of the water - what lies beyond the waves, is a vast black. Stretching out farther than your eyes can perceive. You only get hints of it in the traces of moonlight crossing over the water like silver lace. 

The nervousness coiling in your gut finally begins to unwind, and the tight grip of your arms around his ribs follows, slackening just enough for you to slip your hands up to his chest instead, letting you sit up just a little straighter. It makes you extremely aware of how scant the tight fishnet shirt he's wearing truly is. You can feel his skin from between the mesh netting, trepid and soft on your palms. Your fingers flex, the urge to remove your hands bolting up as though you've touched something hot, but somehow you find yourself hesitating. You don't remove them. And he doesn't seem bothered by it in the slightest. Weaving the bike through the bonfires scattered around the beach and coasting it just a little too close to the people walking and dancing around on the sand. 

He just narrowly misses running over a few of them. Calling out an unworried, "Get out of the way!" when he nearly clips a guy in the shoulder and sends him diving on the ground to avoid being struck. The man's angry shouting trails after you both, a dim, warbling sound that's quick to die over the wind and heavy rumble of the motorcycle. But Paul's laughter almost sounds louder than all of it. Pitching high over the balmy night air like the cackle of a coyote out on a hunt. 

You feel a little guilty, but you can't keep yourself from answering with a similar laugh, all light and airy. Welling up from your chest with an ease that makes you feel alive. It's like you've shed a skin, almost. It's easy to pretend that you're flying. It feels like you are, with the wind pulling at your clothes, nudging at the shape of your face like the sweep of prodding fingers. You can't really remember a time when you've felt so far above the world, miles from your worries and insecurities, soaring past the anxieties that keep you awake at night.  

You twist back a little to look over your shoulder, emboldened by the rush in your veins to watch as the man clumsily scrambles up from the ground, kicking up a spray of dirt as he lifts an arm in the air to flip you both off. 

"Sorry!" you yell after him, but it doesn't keep you from smiling. 

Eventually Paul veers off of the beach, cutting through a parking lot that he uses to merge onto a vacant street. The boardwalk grows smaller and smaller behind you, the lights of the rollercoaster and rotating Ferris wheel growing dim until it's hardly more than a few faint dots in the distance, just barely peeking out over the roofs of buildings. He shoots through downtown, blowing past a redlight without any care. He doesn't slow a single time, ignoring the speed limit like it's merely a suggestion. The way he drives is insane, and it makes you wonder if he has a license at all. Probably not. 

Uncertainty unfurls when the houses making up the edges of town grow sparse, thinning out until you only pass a few odd little homes bordering the edges of the backroad he's taken you on. You ignore it when he turns his bike, veering off the worn asphalt and onto a dirt path. It looks well-traveled enough, thankfully. The headlight on his motorcycle spilling over the beaten dirt, highlighting the prints left by a vehicle's tread that seems fairly recent. 

Apprehension prickles at the nape of your neck, that old instinctual feeling again. It weighs a little in your gut like a physical thing. Your brush it off, telling yourself that you're only being paranoid. But a pair of animal eyes peek out from the field growing on the side of the road, glimmering in the passing headlight like a couple of coins; it seems like a bad omen. 

You keep your voice trapped in your mouth, letting your concerns fall silent as he guides the bike up an incline, driving it up a path where tree branches stretch out like reaching fingers. It's like you've been holding your breath, keeping yourself suffocated as the motorcycle eats up the ground, powering up the hill until it levels out into something flat. You see immediately why he brought you here. 

From this high up, you can see it all. The entirety of Santa Carla is laid like stars glimmering in the night. Streetlamps, porchlights, and the entire boardwalk flickering in the distance in shimmers of gold and silver. It looks so small from this perspective. Like the little model towns that your grandfather used to make in his basement. Like you could walk right up to it and place a building in your palm. It's a stunning view. One that makes you wish you were able to take a picture of for safe keeping. 

You've hardly noticed that he's parked the bike, stopped it close to the edge of the hill and killed the engine. But once you realize the silence it becomes heavy. But not necessarily in a way that's uncomfortable. It's a blanket draped over your shoulders, soft and inviting. You have to remind yourself to move, unmounting the bike to stand up on legs that have become weak from the heavy thrumming of the engine. 

Paul's quick to follow, shifting up with an ease that you're a little jealous of. Your muscles feel like Jello. It makes you quick to walk over to the picnic table positioned out in the center of the barren lot, settling yourself up on the weathered wood to shake some feeling back into your legs. Paul is fast to follow, practically skipping over, jewelry jangling as he jumps himself up on the tabletop. He begins absentmindedly picking at the chipping old paint, tearing it from the notches that have been carved into the wood, defaced to immortalize the initials of lovers.  

"What did you bring me all the way out here for?" you ask. 

"This is one of the nicer spots in Santa Carla. Figured I'd show you." 

"Oh, yeah?" you tilt your head, rotating a little in your perch on the bench. "What's the best?" 

A smile pushes at the corners of his mouth. It's another one of those amused, secretive little looks. Like he's in on something. "Maybe I'll show ya some time." 

"I'd like that," you agree. There's a small bout of silence then. You've gained the feeling back in your legs and it inspires you to sit up from the table, stretching out your limbs as you approach the rounded edge of the hill. A delicate breeze rolls up the slop, shuffling the leaves with a delicate hiss, carrying the scent of wildflowers and the hint of the ocean. It such a simple thing but it abates some that paranoia, loosening its talons, even if just a little bit. 

The weight of the cassette tapes in your pocket press against your stomach. Nudging there like a reminder. It has you glancing back over your shoulder, and you see that he's already watching you. The way he holds himself is relaxed, but there's something intense reflecting in his gaze, burning and hot. It makes your heart skip a beat, body flushing with warmth. It could be the shadows, but you think his smile grows. 

There's a flash of his teeth. "You'd have to stick around for that." 

He doesn't wait for your response as he shoves off of the table, bounding from it with a jump that rattles the silver on his chest. It's like you're both magnetized to each other, unable to stray far now that you've crossed paths. A part of it is almost frightening. You've had crushes of course. A couple random fling before, and a relationship - as complicated and fleeting as it had been, but you can honestly say that you've never been so swept away by a guy. Never enough to that'd be willing to become an accomplice in theft; never enough that you'd get on the bike of stranger and let them carry you off to spot in the middle of nowhere. It's as though all of your common sense has been picked up and dumped out on the ocean tide. Even worse is that you really don't care. 

Maybe you're just caught in the whirlwind of it all. Spun up by the excitement of finally being able to do things on your own terms without the worry of hundreds of people watching. Or maybe you're just addicted to the discovery; when you look at him, all of those concerns seem to melt away. Thinning and evaporating like snow in the summer sun. It's terrifying. It's thrilling. 

"Maybe I will, maybe I won't." 

It's almost as though he takes it as a challenge, stepping into your space like it's where he belongs. His cologne sweeps back over you again, bold and muddled with the spice of tobacco. Combined with his proximity it makes you a little dizzy, fingertips prickling with warmth as he fixes you with a stare that seems the seize you, burrowing down like he's cradling some delicate, wild piece of your soul. 

You just barely notice when his hand slips into your coat pocket to grasp the tapes tucked inside, like he's confirming that you still have them. He seems pleased when his fingertips slide over the hard plastic covers, as though it means something to him. His face hovers just a little above yours, noses nearly brushing. With the glow of the moon emitting from above, it makes it easy to see how his gaze flickers down to your lips. Like he's considering if he should try kissing you or not. You don't think you'd mind if he did. 

"At least you'll have something to me remember me by," he muses softy. 

"I haven't known you for very long but believe me when I say that there's a very slim chance of me forgetting you." 

Emboldened by your response, he cocks his head, daring to lean forward just enough that you can feel the faint press of his lips on yours. Not kissing, but just enough to tease the possibility. It's a little pathetic how something so simple has heat licking through your veins. The line you're treading on feels dangerous. Like you're dangling on the edge of some unknown territory. And you are. But what makes it so particularly daunting is the uncertainty of where this might go. 

Something about Paul is already addictive. Like a shot of liquor after a long week. You've always been the type to keep yourself from getting too attached, but he's like an adrenaline rush. It'd be so easy to get hung up on a guy like him, and the last thing you want to be is one of those women lying awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling while they fantasize about the one that could have been. Spending the remainder of their years living back in the memory of that one night in the past. 

He's a temptation that you've never had to face before. Bursting into your life with all the subtly of a firecracker, abrupt, explosive and invigorating. You want to hold onto that. Grip it tight with greedy fingers and enjoy this - whatever this is - for all it's worth. 

He speaks then, his voice has dipped into something low and hushed. Almost like a secret being exchanged, a promise being made. "I'm happy to hear it, but I like to be thorough." 

You think he's the one who kisses you first, but you really can't be sure. It a little daunting, how it completely sweeps you up. There isn't any of that dramatic stuff, like explosions, or fireworks, but something about it just feels right. It already makes you breathless. Time stretching out and yawning, heat draping over your body like you've been dipped in warm honey. 

The way he kisses you is starved. Passionate and fast like he's trying to have all of you at once. His teeth nip at your lips, a sting that he soothes with the tip of his tongue when you gasp. There's hardly any build up. He approaches it like he seemingly does everything else; just pure intensity as he reaches for you with eager hands that seem to be everywhere all at once. Squeezing at your hips, pressing down at the base of your spine to mold you close to him, and then he's cradling your jaw with chilled fingers. 

You can't help moaning into his mouth, a quiet noise that's still definitely heard if the way he smiles into the kiss is any indication. You aren't bothered by his smugness though, only encouraged by it. You slip a hand over his stomach, feeling the lithe muscle under cool skin. It's cute when his abdomen twitches under your palm. He reprimands you by biting at your lip again, only enough for a slight sting, but you really think that it was only an excuse for him to dip his tongue into your mouth, letting you fully taste each other. 

There's the subtle sugar of something sweet on his lips. Probably some kind of treat from back on the boardwalk. It mixes with the distinct rich pepper of tobacco, all warmth and cream on his tongue, but there's the edge of something almost metallic lurking beneath it all, almost as though he's been sucking on pennies. It isn't enough to be distracting, and you can't be bothered to pay it any mind as he turns you around without breaking the kiss to blindly back you up until your lower back nudges into the rough lip of the picnic table. 

He practically mauls you once he has you pinned, consuming you with a hunger that's infectious. It has you tugging at his hair, clawing your nails through the thick of his soft waves, dragging them along his scalp and it rewards you with a throaty groan that has sparks shooting up your spine. He must enjoy it because he's breaking his mouth away from your and immediately latches it onto your throat. The scratch of his stubble as you arching into his body, your head lolling back to bare more of your throat which he quickly takes advantage of. His tongue laps out at your skin like he's drinking up the subtle salt there, sucking softly like he wants to brand you with the shape of his mouth. 

The gasp that leaves you is wrangled when he wedges a thigh between your legs, bending his knee to press it flush against your cunt. Your grip on his hair squeezes tight. Holding on like it might help keep you grounded. Like it might keep you from float up to the heavens. The weight of his leg on you makes you cruelly aware of the wet patch that's dampened the center of your underwear. It's a little embarrassing, already being this worked up by a little making out, but he lights you on fire with a frustrating ease. It's unfair how he's already taking you apart piece by molten piece. 

He licks up the base of your throat, sucking at the edge of your jaw before he speaks against your skin like he doesn't want to pull away. "Can I eat you out?" 

You swear the question could have knocked you out. He says it casually, but his words are slurred. Almost like he's drunk. It's all moving so fast. Your head is spinning, and your heart is racing, chugging blood through the same artery that he traces with his tongue. It's hard to remember how you've gotten here, curled up in a stranger's arms while he grinds his thigh between your legs. This night has gone completely off the rails. Hurtled far past a simple night out to a haze of chaos and heat. It doesn't really make any sense to be here right now. 

But when Paul manages to tear himself away from your neck to meet your stare something seems to fall into place. You don't think you'd want this night to have gone any other way. 

There's a desperation glimmering in the blue of his eyes, bright and hungry. It has you contained in place. Swallowed up by the fervor in his expression, the gluttony in how he holds onto you. 

At this point you don't think it needs to be said, but you find yourself nodding anyway. "Yeah - yes. Fuck, please." 

He flashes you a grin before he's dropping down onto his knees without any fanfare. You decide to help him out a little, planting your hands onto the tabletop to heave yourself up on the surface, spreading your legs open to make room for him. It's brazen, the short length of your skirt scrunching and riding up high on your thighs, flashing the pale fabric of your underwear. His attention zeros in there immediately, stuck between your legs with an intensity that's almost concerning. He's looking at you like you're a piece of meat. All splayed out. It's a compromising that almost has embarrassment creeping beneath it all, but there's a perverted brand of delight on his face, and it's mixed with a strange kind of sincerity that has that shame fizzling out. 

He slips a hand up to cup the back of your knee, lifting it up to hook it over his shoulder so he can trail kisses up the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. It's much slower than the starved bites and licks that he had given you earlier, the ones that you can still feel on your neck, aching dully from where he had sucked. It's like he's teasing you now. Too caught up in his own desire to indulge you yet and it feels like torture. Just the weight of his head parting your legs open, the brush of his wild hair against your skin has you flushing with heat. 

Your hips rock on their own, rolling in an effort to seek out friction that isn't there. The press of your underwear on your cunt is like a taunt, applying a barely there pressure that has your lungs skipping with a silent gasp. 

You don't expect the smack that he cracks down on the outside of your leg. It's more surprising than painful, but you jerk anyway, subconsciously trying to escape the smarting that fizzles across your nerves. The look that you shoot him is one of shock, but he doesn't look the least bit apologetic. Expression all smug as he presses his lips down on the crook where your leg joins your pelvis. Slipping his tongue out to lick at the tender skin there, running it along the seam of your underwear. 

"Feelin' greedy?" he smirks up at you, looking so smug that it nearly irritates you. "There's no need to flip out babe, I'll give you what you want." He kisses you over your underwear, gripping both of your knees to spread you open wider, giving him the room to nose at your cunt from over the damp fabric. There's something so vulgar about the way that he mouths at you while you're still wearing panties, circling your clit with the point of his tongue before flattening it to suck through your underwear. 

It makes your spine bow, fire and smoke blazing up your back and smoldering beneath your skin. There's a plea right there, just at the base of your throat but thankfully you don't have to voice it. He slips both of his hands under your underwear and tugs it down roughly, giving away his own impatience as he moves back just enough to be able to rip them down past the heels of your shoes. 

You're pretty sure that he pockets them, bunching them up and stuffing them inside his coat. But you don't get a chance to scold him - not that you would if you were able - because he's dropping his mouth open to lick a stripe up your bare cunt, splitting you open on his tongue. It has your fingers flexing, dragging your nails over the edge of the wood in a wild claw to have something to keep you anchored. It doesn't do much though. Not the chipped, textured paint under your palms, not the faint chill of Paul's hands clamping down on your skin, it fades out into a meaningless blur. Distorted to the sidelines as your brain blocks everything out, banishing it all into a muted background noise as the sensation of his mouth commands all of your focus. 

It's mindless how your body chases after its pleasure, your hips attempting to thrust under the unforgiving hold of Paul's hands to build the pressure coiling hotly in the base your abdomen. His grip is practically steel bands, vices around your skin to hold you open and immobilized while he torments you with the ceaseless drag and curl of his tongue. 

"Paul, come on, please," you beg. Panting out into the sultry summer air. It's stupid how easily he's pulling noises from you. Tense, breathless moans that drift over the hilltop in a shameless stream. It almost makes you a little thankful that he drove you both out here in the private little lookout, far away from potential witnesses. Based on the joined initials etched and written into the wood, presumably with pocketknives and permanent markers, you'd wager that this is a popular date spot. A cute little place for couples to admire the town lights and take advantage of the privacy while they hookup. You definitely aren't the first person to be splayed out here on this table. A part of you wonders if you aren't the first person that he's brought out here. 

You try to ignore the flickering of something stinging and unwelcome that lashes its way through your chest. It's obscure and startling, blinking in and out like a ghost, and you're quick to snuff it out. To turn it over and ignore it entirely. If you didn't know any better, you'd say that it felt suspiciously close to jealousy, but that's a route that you aren't going to dare to go down - a load of baggage that you have no desire to unpack. Not for a stranger, no less. 

Your hand pries itself from the edge of the table to grip onto his hair, fingers slipping down through his roots to thread through in the way you think he likes. You're almost instantly gifted with a pleased groan and his tongue dips inside of you, lapping up your taste like he's starved for it. 

You nearly sob when he pulls himself back from you, parting his lips from your cunt just enough to mumble out something; his voice slurs, thrumming against your clit as he speaks. "Don't worry about being rough, pull harder if you want." And then he's smothering himself back between your thighs. You do as he says, mostly out of reflex as he traces over you in tight circles that has your nerves running hot, your muscles burning as though you've been submerged in steaming water. 

A finger prods at your cunt, running up just along his mouth to get it slick enough and then he's thrusting it inside without little warning, filling you up with a smooth stroke. You moan out raggedly when he suckles at your clit just as he crooks his finger, brushing it in deft swipes. Your grip locks on tight in his hair, digging in through long, golden strands while he practically turns you inside out. Your grasp has to be painful, but he doesn't seem affected by it in the slightest. His effort actually seems to double each time your fingers tug and claw, like he might like the sting. 

You don't know why you enjoy the thought of that, but you do. Your hips jerk sharply at the idea of it. Of how he might react from your nails slashing down his back, leaving red cuts behind. Reminders of you on his body. How he'd sound while you bite bruises on his neck and shoulders; the bursts of red and plum placed where they would peek out from the worn collar of his shirt.  

"Oh, my god - Paul." 

You can already feel your orgasm rising up, winding up your body in an almost violent twist. It's eating at you rapidly. Climbing up at a rate that you can hardly track. You can feel yourself tensing; each individual muscle drawing up. Your lungs squeeze in your ribcage, rendering you breathless. You turn into a broken record, a stream of words and his name spilling out of your like a chant. It hits you like a freight train. Searing and rippling up your body in a splashing of stars that leaves you keening into the open air. 

He doesn't part from you, coasting you through the remnants of your orgasm with the stroke of his fingers and tongue, sucking steadily at your clit until your thighs shake. You have to tug him away by the grip on his hair, pulling his head back sharply to give yourself relief before the pleasure could become too much. He yields to you reluctantly, nipping pointed bites up the tender flesh of your legs as you drag him to stand. 

You feel almost outside of yourself as you grip onto his shoulders, clutching onto his coat while he crawls himself over you, notching his hips against your own like he belongs there. You're still floaty from your orgasm, pleasure thrumming and hopping along your nerves in a pleasant buzz but somehow you still want more. It burns and burrows deep in the pit of your stomach, lighting a fire in your veins that you haven't felt in a long time. Not like this, at least. 

His lips crash against yours in a meeting of teeth and tongue. It's almost animalistic, how you both reach for each other. His hands are all over you again, grabbing at everything he can like he's trying to commit the shape of your body to memory, like he wants to brand the warmth of your skin on his palms. And you're just as desperate. Your own slip down as a pair, reaching with trembling, frantic fingers for the buckle of his belt. You struggle blindly with it for a minute, fingertips slipping uselessly over the smooth metal from the way they tremble. You'd swear if your mouth wasn't occupied.

You can taste yourself on him, just subtly sweet and smearing on your own lips. It's dirty. Filthy, but it only makes it hotter; the very idea of breaking the kiss seems like torture, so when he huffs a laugh in your mouth and tries to pull away to help you with his belt, your other hand moves on its own to cradle the back of his skull. Keeping him pressed to your lips with an annoyed groan. 

"Don't." You demand into the kiss, nipping lightly at his pout to draw him back in. He complies easily, but that doesn't stop him from laughing a little. 

Finally, you manage to slip the leather free from buckle, tugging it loose from over the prong to pull it open. And then you're fumbling with the zipper, tracing over the metal teeth to find it, tugging it down like it's molten on your fingertips once you do. You're almost delirious with a single goal, slipping your hand down inside to feel him, and you don't hesitate to take him within your palm. He hisses lowly when you grip him, thrusting up in an uneven grind to chase after his own pleasure. 

He pants into your mouth when you swipe your thumb over the head of his cock, smearing a drop of precum to aid in your glide and it makes the clutch of his fingers around your hips squeeze. Bordering close to almost painful, but the ache of it ebbs into an afterthought. He's thick in your hand, so hard that it has to be uncomfortable. You take pity on him, unable to string either of you out any longer than you already have and take him out of his pants. 

He moves like a man possessed now, slipping of his hands down lower to hitch your thighs high around the trim length of his waist, and then he's reaching down between the thin gap of your bodies to bat you hand out of the way, taking ahold of himself. Gripping the base of his cock to slide it between your legs, grinding the head against your clit in teasing strokes. It makes you whine, the sensitivity from your orgasm lights over you like small bolts of electricity and yet you find yourself raising your hips to chase after the feeling. 

"Gonna let me fuck you?" He scatters kisses along the corner of your mouth and the edge of your jaw, much too tender and saccharine for what this is. Cradling you like a lover would despite the ardor and desire saturating the air like the perfume of whisky. It makes a pathetic little piece of you melt, turning syrupy and pliant like a strip of wax held over an open flame. 

You find yourself nodding, swallowing thickly as you try to find your worn voice again. "Yes - just stop teasing." You lock your legs tighter around him, drawing him in closer, aiding his cock in grinding over your pussy like it'd help urge him along, and luckily for you it seems to snap through the rest of his restraint. There's no warning as he guides himself down to your entrance and drives himself inside in a single stroke. 

He punches the air free from your lungs as he buries himself to the hilt, the both of you groaning in relief through the stretch. He's so deep, holding you open around his girth, and you know that you're going to feel him for a few days after this. You hope that you do. You want this night to be vivid in your memory for as long as possible. You want it tattooed into your skin, stained behind your eyes like watercolors, sunk bone deep. 

You can't remember the last time you've been able to exist beyond the pressures and judgement of the world. A thousand miles above prying eyes, confiscated within the hushed intimacy of your own bubble - except for the first time in what might be forever, you aren't alone in it. It's a shard space, gone from quiet and lonely to fiery and scorching. Howling in the dark. You think it's too late. You really are going to be one of those women staring up at the ceiling, fantasizing about that one perfect night from a decade ago. But right now, you really don't give a damn about that. 

All of the thoughts rattling around in your brain are turning into mush, liquifying like hot sugar on stove. It's like you've been engulfed. Ate up by the wet bite of his mouth on your throat, the persistent weight of his hands clumsily tugging up at your shirt and bra to ruck it them over your breasts. He doesn't take his lips off of your neck once; it's like he's been captivated by the smooth stretch of skin, lapping the flat of his tongue over the column of it like he wants to stain the taste of you on his mouth. But it doesn't keep his hands from taking greedy handfuls of your breasts. 

You gasp when his chilled fingertips squeeze around the shape of them, the frigid rings around his fingers force you to gasp and arch into his palms. He plucks at your nipples, circling around them in tight circles that has your voice pitching as he drives his cock into you. The way he fucks you is unrestrained but no less practiced, burying himself into you with calculated strokes that have you tearing at the seams. 

You don't know if you've ever felt so full, so spread out in your entire life. Granted you aren't the most experienced person. A lot of your practice coming from an ex that frequently left you high and dry and a couple of flings you met from the bar. One of which wasn't the most satisfying affair considering that his roommate had burst in before things could really get good. But Paul has to be the first guy that's ever really taken your pleasure into any real regard. All the others were quick to get you off with a sense of obligation, as though your pleasure was transactional so they wouldn't feel too much guilt for using you to get themselves off afterwards. 

He fucks you like he wants to. Like he's hellbent on making you cum as quickly as possible. Like he needs your pleasure to satisfy his own. 

"You're so hot," he groans. His teeth clamp down on the muscle in your neck like he might tear flesh, inspiring a muted ache up your neck but he lets go before it becomes too violent. His voice is all gutted, like he's growing drunk on the bliss cutting though his body. "Fucking squeezing me." 

He sounds just as wrecked, and it you can't help how your cunt clenches down tight around his cock, strangling another rough groan from the base of his chest. The small silver plates of the ornamental belt he has fixed to his coat dig into your exposed skin, pinching at your abdomen from how closely he pins your bodies together. It's like he's trying to join the two of you together, pressing into you until you live in the same body. 

You tear uselessly at his shoulders, digging your nails into the thick material of his jacket so wildly that you think you'd probably be able to rip it. You pant into his hair as he laps at your jugular, breathing in the fresh, chemical fragrance of the hairspray that styles the soft gold in selfish gulps. All of it cumulates, tiny little elements stacking on top of the other until the ecstasy starts to raise again. Maybe it's just riding off the afterglow of the first orgasm, but somehow, this feels like it's going to be stronger. More devastating than the one that still hums under your skin. 

You almost mourn that you're so close already, and a part of you tries to shun off the thick rapture building between your thighs entirely. You don't want this night to end yet. You aren't prepared for the awkward silence that will inevitably come next. You don't want to live through the silent ride back into town, where he'll drop you off at your ramshackle hotel room and presumably drive out of your life forever, leaving you to stand outside on the balcony outside your door while you listen to engine of his bike fade out and grow silent like a dying pulse. 

But he seems bound and determined to have you reach your high. One of his hands strays down from your chest, sweeping low until his knuckles are dragging over your clit in firm figure eights. A moan shudders through you, your ribcage wracking from what almost sounds like a sob. He doesn't let up though, driving you directly towards a yawning precipice that promises to swallow you up whole, and you can't do much else but cling onto him like he's a buoy in a storm. 

"Paul - I - " 

"Let me feel it. You're so close, baby, just let go." He bites at the shape of your ear; voice low and rich as he fucks himself into you like he wants to watch you black out. "I want to feel you cum all over me. You can take it." 

Like a slave to his voice your body draws up tight, muscles bunching up to strip you down of all you're worth. You kind of hate him for hurtling you towards the edge already, but you can't keep yourself from chasing after it. It's dirty, the cum between your thighs squelching lewdly each time he plunges into you, his skin meeting yours in damp smacks. And yet he cradles your cheek like you're something delicate, running the print of his thumb over the swell of your cheekbone in a gentle brush. It's all a juxtaposition of the other, and it has you crumbling. 

"You'll taste so good, just let go for me." The fires burn a little higher, white-hot and lashing, turned into an inferno that uses your bones as kindling. His teeth drag over your skin, sharp points gliding over flesh. You don't remember them feeling so lethal, like they could rip you open with a single touch, but it's hard to focus through the haze of it all. He bites deep and you swear that skin gives under the pressure, nerves lighting up light they've been doused in fire, parting like butter under a serrated knife, and the world erupts in a flurry of embers.  

This must be what it's like to be struck by lightning, static curling your toes and fingers, cosmos bursting in your eyes. You think you might scream. A chorus of his name that sounds like a prayer and a plea for help all at once as rapture's injected directly into your veins. It's almost brutal as pleasure rolls its way through you, seizing you up and stripping you to piece like a burst of dynamite. Just like before he fucks you all the way through it, pumping himself deep inside until he shudders, cock twitching inside of your cunt as he spills over into his own orgasm. 

It's almost abrupt how he drops you both back down onto the support of the table, leaning his body over yours like he's gone boneless. Crowding you in with his weight while he continues to grind himself against you without pulling out, drawing his pelvis on your overstimulated clit. You moan at the static searing through you, writhing under his body as he guides out your pleasure until it stings. 

But you can't find the strength to stop him, staring past his shoulder and up at the sky while your thoughts spin and flatline. You feel like you're floating, admiring the way the stars above twinkle and shift in an iridescent sheen with a drunken kind of fascination. You've felt good after sex before, but you've never been reduced to a state like this. It's like you're no longer in your body, tethered to it only by a thin, pulsing string, almost giddy from the pleasure. 

It's like you've been cocooned in warmth, something alcoholic tingling at your fingertips as he sucks and laps at your throat. Groaning softly while he cradles your skull, just barely thrusting himself into you like he doesn't want to stop. And despite how sensitive you've become; you don't think you want him too either. You're sense of time has gone all fuzzy, turned sluggish and pleasantly warm as you drift on your high, all loose limbed and heavy. 

It could be seconds or hours before he finally parts his mouth from you, a hollow sting digging into your neck as canines slip free. It's strange. Far from the bites that he had scattered over your throat before. It feels deep. Like he'd broken skin and pierced deep. He still hasn't pulled his face from the crook of your neck, licking up your throat like it's layered in sugar. Your skin is warm. A starling sensation against the weird chill of his tongue. Damp and hot. For a moment you think that it might be his spit, but it's not cold enough for that, trickling lazily down your throat like a slow leak. 

You're face pinches in confusion and will yourself to remove your arm from around his shoulder. An almost herculean task considering that your limbs have turned to lead from the dopey effects of your orgasm, but you force yourself to move. Years have passed by the time your fingers curl around your neck, dragging over your damp flesh to collect the liquid that's smearing over it. 

You blink sluggishly when you raise your hand up over your face, trying to focus past the blur that smudges around the edges of your vision. For a moment you think that you're hallucinating it. That the dark liquid staining your fingertips, glittering in the dark, tinged red and running hot from your body heat isn't real. You're trapped as you stare at it dumbly, horribly transfixed by the thick of it dripping down the crook of a finger in a single rivulet. 

You think your heart stops, a wild panic setting in as you scramble beneath him to try and slip free. But suddenly the comforting weight of him is now as unyielding as a snare. A cry locks in your throat, snagged behind the catch of your quivering lungs. 

A hand catches your wrist as you struggle, silver jewelry winking in the dark like a warning, horrible talons sprouting from its fingertips. It paralyzes you in place, the ice pumping through your frantic heart, turning your lethargic limbs into heavy stone. 

It's then that he chooses to lift his head from the vulnerable stretch of the throat that you had offered so foolishly, placing a kiss to the ache that you now know is bitten flesh. Your thoughts run into scattered cries, a litany of voices rattling around in your skull like taunts and yells. Shrieks that chant, told you so, over and over again in a bitter, acidic stream. And then you hear the echo of his voice. 

It's like a nightly thing. 

God, he had been toying with you this entire time. 

You can't escape. Too weak to move. Too overcome with fear - drained and so wrung dry that the adrenaline singing throughout your system falls useless. Your bones tremble with a broken cry, tears tainting your waterline, but even that isn't enough to keep you from seeing him as he is now. The logical part of your brain scrambles to find reason, but there is none as flashes of burning amber pin you down - the eyes of an animal's, peering from a face that's gone bestial. Inhuman. A demon's face stretched over a human skull; jaw smeared with a rich red like a feral dog that's been feeding on a fresh corpse. The smile that you had once loved is now tainted. Ruined by the blood that soaks his mouth; lips peeled back into a grin. But that charm is ruined, stretching into something sadistic and sharp, violent teeth baring in the dark. 

It's cruel when he guides the hand that he has caught within his own up to his mouth, easily bending your limb, overpowering you as though you aren't resisting him; made instead out of weakened clay and not muscle and bone. He snickers when you try to jerk your arm from his hold, like you're a mean kitten that he's picked up by the scruff. 

"Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you, sweetheart." 

You don't believe him. And suddenly the conversation you had back in the record store seems like a twisted joke. You think back on all the smiles he had passed you then. Like he was in on a joke that you weren't. But now you are and it's like the universe is laughing at you too for being so dumb, digging the knife in deeper for being so naive. The cassette tapes in your pocket are now as weighted and crushing as stones. 

His tongue slips out past his mouth, lips parting as he takes your fingers into his mouth, licking up the blood there like it's something precious. A drug in short supply. Despite the amusement glinting in his eyes, there's an unmistakable fringe of something intense and determined peeking through it all, as though you've made a bargain that you didn't know you were signing. Etched out your name in blood and written over your soul for the taking. 

"I think you're too sweet to part with, babe. " He places nauseatingly tender kiss to the palm of your hand - a mockery, and dead in the center, where you'd maybe slice your hand for a blood pact, and you know now that you aren't going to escape. At least not with your life intact. His eyes gleam like gold. Like two roaring fire pits. Hellmouths opening wide to consume you, bones, blood and all. 

"I think I might keep you."  

[ducktoo]

Office Antics

Yena x Reader

Note: Recently rewatched Hyemileeyechaepa and man I missed 2/3 of Jo Yuriz. If you haven't watch it yet I really recommend yall to do it!

Here's for fellow resident duck.

The office was alive with the familiar hum of keyboards and the occasional ring of phones. It was another Monday morning, and as usual, you were the first one at your desk, sipping a subpar instant coffee you’d made from the breakroom. The workday ahead promised to be a mountain of reports, client proposals, and dreaded spreadsheet formatting—tasks that demanded focus. Yet, your mind wasn’t on the work.

No, your thoughts were fixated on a certain someone who had yet to show up.

Choi Yena. Your supervisor. The office’s resident prankster. The embodiment of chaos wrapped in pastel blazers and a permanent grin. She was always the last one to arrive but somehow managed to make her presence known instantly, turning even the dullest workday into a whirlwind of noise and mischief.

You were halfway through organizing the team’s task list for the day when the elevator doors dinged.

Speak of the devil.

“Good morning!” Yena’s sing-song voice bounced off the walls as she burst through the door, holding two iced coffees in her hands. Her grin stretched wide as she plopped one down on your desk.

“Iced Americano for my favourite team member,” she chirped.

You raised an eyebrow, instantly suspicious. The last time she gave you coffee, it was spiked with salt instead of sugar. “What’s the catch, Sunbae?”

Her eyes widened in mock offense. “No catch! Can’t a supervisor just be nice to her hardworking team?”

“Not when that supervisor is Choi Yena,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes.

She gasped, clutching her chest as if wounded. “Wow. The lack of trust here is unbelievable. I’ll have you know that I’m turning over a new leaf. No pranks today, I swear.”

You weren’t buying it, but the coffee smelled too good to resist. With a cautious sip, you confirmed it was safe. No salt, no hot sauce, no glitter bombs waiting to explode. Yena watched you expectantly, her lips twitching like she was holding back laughter.

“What?” you asked, already bracing yourself for whatever she had planned.

“Nothing!” she said, a little too quickly, before skipping back to her desk.

-

Work officially started at 9:00 a.m., and the day unfolded like any other. You were in charge of preparing the weekly task overview—assigning smaller chunks of projects to each team member while flagging urgent deadlines.

The first task on your list was compiling data for the company’s quarterly performance review. You groaned inwardly, knowing the amount of cross-referencing it would require.

“Hey, sunbae, can we talk about the client feedback report for the Kim & Lee project?” you called over to her.

“Of course,” she replied, spinning her chair dramatically before walking over to your desk with her usual exaggerated flair. “Let’s tackle this head-on. Serious Yena-sunbae mode: engaged.”

You slid the draft report across the desk. “The issue is with the client’s notes on the second phase. They’re asking for an entirely new cost analysis, and we’ve got a two-day turnaround. Can we reassign some of my other tasks?”

Yena leaned over, scanning the document with a furrowed brow. For once, she was genuinely focused. “Hmm. Good point. Let’s offload some of this to Eunji and Sungho. I’ll handle the final approval.” She gave you a thumbs up. “Boom. Delegation, baby.”

-

By mid-morning, the office had settled into its usual rhythm: the quiet clatter of keyboards, the hum of printers, and the occasional buzz of phones. You were elbow-deep in Excel, trying to fix a formula that some long-forgotten coworker had created to "streamline" the quarterly financial summaries.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t.

“Why does this formula look like someone coded a secret message?” you muttered, leaning closer to your monitor. You had just started unravelling the mess when—

“Ya, ya, yoohoo!” Yena’s voice broke through your concentration, startling you so badly you nearly toppled out of your chair. She was suddenly looming over your desk, holding up a packet of snacks like she’d just discovered gold.

“Want some dried mango?” she asked, dangling the packet in front of your face.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “…Sunbae, do you even work here, or are you just here to disrupt me?”

“Excuse me, I’m your supervisor. Disruption is part of my job description,” she said with a wink. “But seriously, how’s it going with that finance thingy?”

“It’s not a ‘thingy,’ it’s a nightmare,” you replied, gesturing to your screen. “This formula makes no sense. It’s like someone deliberately made it as complicated as possible.”

“Let me see,” she said, pulling up a chair beside you. She squinted at the screen, then immediately leaned back, shaking her head. “Yeah, nope. That’s a you problem. I’m more of a ‘big picture’ kind of gal.”

“Wow, so helpful,” you deadpanned.

“Hey, I didn’t say I couldn’t help in other ways!” she chirped, pulling out her phone.

“Oh no. What are you—”

“Shhh. I’m solving your problem,” she said, cutting you off as she started typing furiously. A moment later, she grinned and held up her phone. “Ta-da!”

You squinted at the screen. It was a meme about how Excel was designed to make grown adults cry.

“Very funny,” you said, but a small smile tugged at your lips.

“See? I’m boosting morale. That’s like, half my job as a supervisor,” she said, patting you on the shoulder before skipping off to her own desk.

-

Five minutes later, the printer jammed.

“YENA-SSI!” someone from the design team shouted.

She popped her head up like a prairie dog. “What? It wasn’t me!”

“It’s always you!”

“I take that personally,” she said, hopping up from her chair and making her way to the printer. “I’ll have you know, I’m a model employee. Watch and learn, folks.”

You glanced over just in time to see her dramatically roll up her sleeves, as if she were about to perform life-saving surgery. She yanked open the printer tray, dug around for a moment, and triumphantly held up the offending piece of paper, which was crumpled beyond recognition.

“Fixed it!” she declared, tossing the mangled paper into the trash.

The printer whirred back to life, and the team gave her a half-hearted round of applause.

“Thank you, thank you,” she said, bowing theatrically. Then, as she walked back to her desk, she sprinkled star-shaped confetti onto the floor behind her like she was leaving a trail of breadcrumbs.

You sighed, already knowing who would be tasked with vacuuming it up later.

-

At around 10:30 a.m., Yena made her rounds through the office. She stopped by everyone’s desk, offering unsolicited advice and handing out snacks like a chaotic fairy godmother.

“Eunji, you’re overthinking that layout. Trust your instincts!”

“Sungho, great job on the client emails, but maybe use fewer emojis next time. We’re professionals, remember?”

When she reached your desk, she leaned over your shoulder and whispered, “Still fighting the Excel file?”

“Yes, and it’s winning,” you replied without looking up.

“Want me to call IT?” she offered.

“I am IT,” you said flatly, earning a laugh from her.

“Well, when you’re done, come see me. We need to prep for the Kim & Lee client pitch. You love PowerPoint, right?”

You groaned. “You’re evil.”

“Evil? No, no. I’m effective,” she said with a wink before disappearing into the break room.

-

When lunchtime rolled around at 12:00 pm, the office buzz quieted as everyone scattered to their usual spots. Some gathered in groups to eat at their desks, while others slipped out for fresh air or made a beeline to the cafeteria. You decided to head to the break room to escape the endless spreadsheets and give your eyes a break from the glaring screen.

As you stepped inside, the smell of warm food hit you immediately—ramyeon, fried rice, someone’s dubious reheated fish—and in the middle of it all sat Yena, perched on the counter with her legs swinging, humming a tune to herself.

“Ah, my loyal team member!” she greeted dramatically, raising her half-eaten kimbap like royalty. “Come to dine with your favorite supervisor?”

You rolled your eyes but smiled as you made your way to the fridge to grab your lunchbox. “Favorite by default, considering you’re the only supervisor I report to.”

She grinned. “Still counts.”

You settled at the table, peeling back the lid of your leftovers: some rice, grilled chicken, and steamed veggies. Simple, nothing like the variety of colorful side dishes Yena always seemed to have. As if on cue, she hopped off the counter and slid into the seat across from you, pushing her kimbap container into the middle of the table.

“Want some? I made it myself.”

You eyed the kimbap warily. “What’s in it?”

“Rice, seaweed, veggies, and unconditional love,” she said with a wink, holding out a piece with her chopsticks.

You raised an eyebrow. “Unconditional love, huh? Sounds suspicious coming from you. sunbae.”

She gasped dramatically. “Wow! Can’t a supervisor just share her lunch without being accused of foul play?”

“Not when that supervisor once put chili powder in my tteokbokki.”

“That was one time!” she protested, pouting.

“And what about the fake soy sauce prank? Or the time you switched the sugar with salt?”

Yena bit her lip, clearly trying not to laugh at the memories. “Okay, fine, maybe I have a history, but I swear this kimbap is safe. Scout’s honour!”

You stared at her for a moment, debating whether you should trust her. Finally, you gave in, cautiously taking a piece from the container. It looked normal enough. Taking a slow bite, you braced yourself for some hidden twist—but to your surprise, it tasted great.

“See? I told you it’s good!” Yena said triumphantly, clapping her hands together. “I’m not just a prankster. I can cook well.”

You shook your head, chewing thoughtfully. “Fine, I’ll admit it. This is actually... really good.”

Her face lit up like you’d just handed her a trophy. “Knew it! Now I feel validated as both your supervisor and a good home cook.”

“Don’t push it,” you warned, but there was no bite to your tone.

The two of you ate in relative peace for a few minutes, the easy banter filling the room. Yena kept sneaking pieces of your chicken when she thought you weren’t looking, and you retaliated by stealing some of her kimbap. It was a rare moment where she wasn’t causing chaos, and you found yourself genuinely enjoying her company.

But, of course, this was Yena. The peace was never meant to last.

“So, about that trust thing,” she started, her voice taking on an innocent lilt that immediately put you on high alert.

“What about it?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“Well…” She reached into her bag and pulled out a small plastic spider, dangling it in front of your face with a mischievous grin. “You’re not scared of these, are you?”

Your glare could have cut through steel. “Sunbae, I swear—”

Before you could finish, she tossed the spider onto your rice. You jolted back, startled, only to realize it wasn’t moving. Fake. Of course, it was fake.

“Relax!” she said between bouts of laughter, clutching her stomach. “Your face—oh my gosh, I wish I’d recorded it!”

You picked up the spider and tossed it back at her. “You’re unbelievable. Can’t even make it through lunch without pulling something, can you?”

She dodged it with ease, still giggling. “What can I say? It’s my love language.”

“Your love language is being too nice,” you sarcastically muttered, shaking your head.

Yena just winked, stealing another piece of chicken from your plate. “You’re lucky you have me to keep things fun.”

-

The office was quiet as the clock ticked closer to quitting time. Most of your co-workers had already packed up for the day, leaving you and a few others burning the proverbial midnight oil. Your focus was on the final edits for the Kim & Lee proposal, your fingers flying across the keyboard as you updated figures, corrected typos, and double-checked client specifications.

The spreadsheet in front of you was practically your baby at this point—a meticulously crafted, formula-heavy masterpiece. Losing it would be catastrophic.

As you clicked to save your progress, the screen suddenly froze. Your cursor vanished, replaced by a spinning wheel of doom. Then, without warning, the screen went blue.

You blinked, momentarily stunned.

The iconic blue screen carved deep into your tired mind; the haunting words lingered:

“CRITICAL SYSTEM ERROR. ALL FILES DELETED.”

Your heart stopped.

“No, no, no, no!” you muttered, panic bubbling to the surface. You frantically clicked the keyboard, your mouse, anything to undo the apparent catastrophe. Nothing worked. The message continued to flash, taunting you:

“ALL FILES DELETED. SYSTEM FAILURE IMMINENT.”

Your pulse was racing. Everything—hours of work, detailed charts, carefully formatted tables—gone in an instant. You’d have to start over, and with the deadline looming, that wasn’t just inconvenient; it was impossible.

“Why now? Why me?!” you groaned, your voice echoing in the empty office. Sweat prickled the back of your neck as you opened Task Manager, desperately trying to shut down whatever program had caused this.

That’s when you heard it—a barely stifled giggle.

Slowly, you turned your head, eyes narrowing.

“Yena-sunbae” you said, your voice low and dangerous.

Behind you, Yena stood just outside your cubicle, clutching her phone and biting her lip to keep from laughing. Her shoulders shook with barely contained glee, and her face was turning red from the effort of holding it in.

“What did you do?” you demanded, your tone sharp enough to make her flinch—almost.

That was the wrong question because it sent her over the edge. She exploded into laughter, doubling over as if you’d just told the funniest joke in the world.

“Your face!” she managed to wheeze, tears forming in her eyes. “Oh my gosh, you should’ve seen your face!”

“YENA,” omitting the formality, you shouted, standing up so fast your chair rolled backward.

“It’s—it’s just a screensaver!” she choked out between fits of laughter, holding up her hands in surrender. “Relax! Your files are fine. Everything’s fine! I saved it already!”

You froze, your panic slowly giving way to disbelief—and then anger. “A screensaver? You nearly gave me a heart attack for a screensaver?”

She nodded, wiping her eyes. “I couldn’t resist! You’ve been on edge all day, and you were so focused—it was too perfect!”

You stared at her, torn between throttling her and collapsing into a puddle of relief. “Yena, I swear, if you ever—”

“I’ll never do it again, promise,” she interrupted, holding up three fingers in a Scout’s honour gesture. Then she ruined it by snorting with laughter. “Okay, maybe not never, but not anytime soon.”

Your glare could’ve melted steel. “You’re lucky I didn’t actually lose anything, or I’d be writing the longest HR report of my life right now.”

“Aw, come on, don’t be mad!” she said, stepping closer and placing her hands on your shoulders. “It was funny, admit it.”

“No, it wasn’t,” you grumbled, sitting back down and trying to calm your frazzled nerves.

“You’ll laugh about it later,” she said confidently. Then, after a beat, she added, “...Maybe.”

You huffed but couldn’t stay mad at her for long. This was Yena, after all. Chaos was her default setting, and you knew what you were signing up for when you started working under her.

“Alright,” you sighed. “But you owe me dinner. And drinks. Good drinks. None of that cheap stuff.”

“Deal!” she chirped, already bouncing on her heels. “Let’s go! My treat. No pranks this time, I promise.”

She linked her arm with yours, dragging you toward the elevator. Despite yourself, a small smile crept onto your face.

With Yena, your life might’ve been unpredictable, messy, and occasionally terrifying—but at least it was never boring.

Even though you wanted to quit halfway through because of her antics.

[mysunshinetemptress]

2010

Leah Williamson x Reader

Warnings: Mean sisters, Mean Leah

Natalie had popped out the shops leaving the older girls in  charge of you who still hadn't moved. Your older sisters had taken this as the perfect opportunity to wind you up, they started by hiding the house phones before watching as you ran around the house in a panic becoming more and more panicked as you searched furiously, your eyes began to fill with tears as you heard the phone ringing trying to navigate where it was coming from. Melia looked at Ellie and Charlotte before peaking around the corner watching as you picked up the phone and sighing in relief "Watch this." you pressed accept before you began talking "Hello." Melia tried not to laugh as she dropped the octave of her voice "Hello is Y/n Sterling there." The three girls tried not to laugh at the excitement in their younger sister "Yes this is she." "Oh excellent well I'm sorry to tell you but we aren't going to accept you to Arsenal." You looked down at the floor disappointed "oh..ehm  why." You felt your bottom lip start to tremble as the voice on the opposite side began to speak "well if I'm being honest you are the worst football player we have ever seen not even Man United would want you and in my professional opinion you should quite playing all together."

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring the image of your sisters huddled in the doorway, barely containing their laughter. Your voice cracked as you stammered, "But... I practiced really hard. Leah says I'm getting better."

The voice boomed through the phone, "Leah? Leah Williamson! You will never be as good as her"

Tears began to run down your cheeks. Their giggles, though muffled, were a cruel counterpoint to the fake voice booming through the phone. Your voice, small and choked with emotion, came out barely above a whisper, "But... I want to be good like Leah."

Suddenly, the phone clicked and went dead. The fake voice, the disappointment, it was all too much. You slumped to the floor, a sob escaping your lips. The room was silent for a beat, then the sound of the front door opened and you ran out into the garden searching for the only person who could make you feel better.

You tried to stop crying as you knocked on Williamson's front door "Oh Y/n, Jacobs is at training he will be back in an hour." You looked up at Amanda as she shook her head "Is Leah home I need to talk to her." Amanda nodded stepping aside and telling you she was upstairs Amanda watched worriedly as you ran up the stairs bottom lip still trembling. you stopped knocking on Leah's door "What." you let out a breath trying to not cry "It's Y/n can I come in please Leah." Leah huffed "No leave me alone." You shook your head ignoring her "but I really need to talk to you." Leah didn't answer as you began to open the door before being knocked to the ground by the older girl you looked up at Leah "Why can't you just take no for an answer Y/n I don't want to talk to you I don't want to hang out with you your a baby for crying out loud who wants to  be seen with a baby."

You couldn't move not knowing what to say as you tried desperately not to cry again "I...... I." You couldn't form the words as Leah let out a groan "See you can't even talk properly." You tried not to let the tears that had weld up in your eyes fall but you were beginning to get tired of it all "I just wanted to talk to you." Leah let out a huff standing back from the girl and walking back towards her room "I told you I don't want to talk so leave." Leah slammed her door as you began to stand "what is going on up there." you made your way down the stairs head bent in defeat and you began to cry "I'm sorry, I annoyed her." Amanda didn't get a word in before you left out the front door back to your house. Ignoring your older sisters and racing up the stairs.

Your world felt like it had shattered around you. Tears streamed down your face, hot and relentless, even after you'd slammed your bedroom door shut. Leah's cruel words echoed in your mind, each one a fresh blow. "Baby," "annoyed her," "don't want to hang out with you." They were like thorns digging into your heart, twisting with every ragged sob.

You clutched Leah's forgotten Arsenal jersey, the fabric a hollow reminder of the idol you so desperately wanted to be like. It felt like a betrayal, a cruel joke alongside Leah's harsh dismissal. All she'd wanted was a moment of comfort after the crushing disappointment of the phone call.

The memory of Leah shoving you to the ground sent a fresh wave of humiliation crashing over you. You felt small, insignificant, like a nuisance in Leah's life. The rejection stung worse than any scrape you'd ever gotten on the football pitch. Here, the pain wasn't physical, but it was a dull ache that threatened to consume her.

Natalie arrived a little while later looking into the sitting room at her three oldest girls "hi girls." The older lot didn't take there eyes of the tv muttering hellos from where they sat on the couch, Natalie looked around the room "where's Y/n." Charlotte waved off "in her room." Natalie sighed turning to walk up the stairs in order to retrieve her youngest daughter. Stopping outside the room Natalie knocked before entering only to see you wrapped in Leah's Arsenal jersey asleep tears streaks down your cheek, Natalies heart broke at the sight.

Natalie knelt down beside the bed, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Hey, sweetheart," she said softly.

You stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent before burying your face deeper into the fabric of the jersey.

Natalie sighed, her earlier annoyance with your sisters melting away completely. She gently nudged your shoulder. "Y/n, it's okay to wake up. I'm here."

Slowly, you peeked out from the jersey, your eyes red and puffy. Tears welled up again as you looked at your mom. "I got rejected from the Arsenal academy and Leah was mean," you croaked out, your voice thick with emotion.

Natalie sighed stroking your back "Darling, that phone call it wasn't real."

You blinked, confused. "What do you mean?" you mumbled, sniffling.

Natalie explained how your sisters had tricked you, their laughter echoing in your mind as you pictured the scene. A small, angry puff escaped your lips. You couldn't believe they would do something like that!

Natalie chuckled, wiping away a stray tear. "Those silly girls. They thought it would be funny, but look what they've done."

You snuggled closer to your mom, the anger giving way to a wave of relief. Leah hadn't rejected you, hadn't said those awful things. But then a new worry bloomed in your chest. "But what if I am rubbish? What if I never get good enough?"

Natalie squeezed your shoulder gently. "Sweetheart, you're only nine. You have so much time to learn and improve. And besides," she added with a wink, "Ronaldo wasn't trying out for premier league academy teams at nine was he?."

You shook your head before your eyes began to tear up again.

"But Leah..." you mumbled, clutching the jersey tighter. "She was horrible."

Natalie's smile softened. "Leah... well, Leah is growing up and things are becoming more complicated. That doesn't mean she had the right to be mean to you but she's going through things you can't see and won't know about for a few more years."

You sniffled. "But she doesn't want to be friends with me anymore."

Natalie pulled you into a hug. "Oh, honey, I'm sure that's not true. Leah just gets frustrated sometimes. Maybe you can try talking to her again tomorrow, after she's had some time to cool down."

The thought of facing Leah again made your stomach churn, but you nodded slowly. You just wanted things to be back to normal, the way they were before.

Natalie helped you get cleaned up and changed, then tucked you back into bed. As she kissed your forehead goodnight, she said, "Remember, Y/n, you're a brilliant footballer. And even if you don't make it into the Arsenal academy, there are plenty of other ways to achieve your dreams."

Her words brought a small spark of hope back to your eyes. Maybe she was right. Maybe Leah would apologize tomorrow. And maybe, just maybe, you could still find a way to be a great footballer, just like her.

The next day dawned, but the hope your mom had kindled flickered faintly. You ran next door to the Williamson's as soon as your homework was finished before being let in by Amanda, you approached Leah who was sitting out the back garden, heart hammering in your chest. Leah, surrounded by her group of friends, barely acknowledged you. Your stomach lurched, but you pressed on.

"Leah, can I talk to you?" you mumbled, picking at your school skirt.

Leah scoffed. "About what? You bothering me again?"

Tears pricked your eyes. "No, I... I just wanted to say sorry about yesterday."

"Ugh, seriously? You're still going on about that?" Leah rolled her eyes. Her friends snickered.

Shame burned in your cheeks. "But you were so mean! And the phone call..."

"The what?" Leah looked confused.

You explained about the fake phone call, your voice trembling. Leah's face paled. She whipped around, glaring at her friends who thought it was funny. They laughed hysterically, pretending not to notice.

Suddenly, Leah stood up staring at them, her anger a palpable force. You watched, heart pounding, as she confronted them, "Get out." One of them looked at her confused "What." Leah didn't move "I said get out."

Leah excused herself and her friends walking them to the door.

When Leah returned, her face stormy, she looked at you. "I... I had no idea. I would never say those things to you."

You didn't know what to believe. Relief warred with lingering hurt. "But you were horrible yesterday too."

Leah looked down at her shoes. "I was just... having a bad day. It wasn't about you."

The apology wasn't what you wanted, but it was something. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance to mend things with Leah.

"Can we still be friends?" you asked hesitantly.

Leah looked at you her heart clenching "I don't ever want to not be your friend Y/n."

You smiled at her happy that she was still your friend before grabbing her hand "Can we practice before you go to training."

Leah smiled "I would love too."

As you passed the ball back and fourth laughing you failed to notice your Mum standing in the kitchen watching you both smiling

"Y/n hunny, five more minutes before you have to get changed, Arsenal under tens train at seven thirty."

You waved her off offering a small ok Mum but Leah stood frozen.

"You got in." you looked up from the ball at the older girl "I got in." you asked confused, before you realised what your mother said "Oh my god Leah I got in." Leah laughed picking you up before spinning you around "Congratulations, I knew you could do it."

For you

@rachdalysworld

[takuma-talkz]

Treat You Better(When you should be with me instead?)

A/N: This is the fluff ending to Treat You Better. I still have the angst ending to this series. But after that I will be exploring other ventures with dae-ho!!

Part 1:

Part 2:

warnings: death

dividers: @dollywons <3

“Dae-ho!” You ran over to the man by the door. Dae-ho wrapped his arms around you. 

Gunshots rang out through the arena. You stole a glance at your ex. You watched as a pink soldier, gunned him down. 

Dae-ho pulled your gaze to him, he caressed your cheek. You pulled him in for a kiss. He kept you close by your waist. You both pulled away just in time for the doors to open.

Dae-ho holds you close. His arm swung around your shoulders. The remaining survivors walk back, you chat with Young-il. 

“I would visit a hospital when you return home.” Young-il advised.

“Thank you, Mr. Young-il. I definitely will.” You smile as you all reach the dorms again. Your group takes its usual spot. 

Dae-ho helps you up into his bunk. He fluffs the pillow to lay back and you relax back on his chest. 

“When we get out of here, I’ll come and find you. And we’ll both pay off our debts and I’ll be with you every step of the way. For you and your child.” Dae-ho whispered into your hair.

“Our. Our child. Even though the man who got me pregnant isn’t you, I want you by my side.” You draw little shapes on his chest. 

He was silent for a minute. “I’d like that.”

“I know that my sisters would love you. They’d probably steal you away on weekends for girls’ night.” He chuckled, his chest rumbling lightly. 

You giggled, shifting upwards to kiss his chin. 

The pink guards come around to commence the vote.

Gi-hun starts first. He votes to leave.

“Player 389.” The guard calls your number. Dae-ho reluctantly lets you go so you can vote.

You walk up to the machine. You take a look at the piggy bank then at Dae-ho.

35.6 million each.

More than enough for you and Dae-ho to start over.

You hit the X button and join Gi-hun and Jung-bae. Dae-ho shortly joins your side. He stands tall next to you, with an arm around your shoulders and a hand on your belly. 

All you remember is being lifted in the air by Dae-ho. The X side had won. 

You were going home.

One by one, players were being escorted out. The women were let out first. 

“Remember this number. Call me when you get the first chance.” He says his phone number in your ear. 

As the guards separate you two, you repeat the number over and over.

“I love you, Kang Dae-ho! Don’t forget about me!” You shout out before you lose complete sight of him. But you hear one last thing before everything goes dark. 

“I promise I won’t! I love you too, [name]!”

“Somebody call the police!”

“Umma look! She’s waking up!”

You’re blinded as the streetlight beats down on you. As you adjust to the bright light, three strangers surround you. 

A woman and her two children.

She quickly undid the ropes. It seems she and her kids were doing laundry at a laundromat nearby because she handed you some clean clothes. 

She covers you with a blanket and you four, along with your belongings walk back to the laundromat. She ushers you into the bathroom so you can change privately. 

You thank the woman for her kind actions and watch as she and her children walk home. You charge your phone in the laundromat until it’s at 15%.

You call for a taxi and notice a weird black card under your jacket. 

Luckily there’s an ATM outside. You swipe the card and boom.

356 million won. 

You survived hell and this proves it.

Your taxi pulls up and you give him your address. You enter the number Dae-ho gave you. It rings a couple of times. Then it goes through.

“Kang Dae-ho. How can I help you?”

“Dae? It’s me, [name].” You muttered softly, happy that he didn’t give you a fake number. 

“Oh, baby. I’m so glad you’re okay. How are you? And the baby too? Are they okay?” His voice was rapid. Like he had been on pins and needles waiting for you to call.

“Where are you? I need to see you.” Dae-ho whispered breathlessly.

“Heading home.” You give him your address.

“That’s not far from where I’m at. See you soon. I love you.” Dae-ho said to you.

“I love you too, Kang Dae-ho.” You nearly broke into tears.

“Appa! Come down the slide with me!” Your beautiful five-year-old daughter calls for Dae-ho’s attention.

He runs over to the playground. You giggle as Dae-ho struggles to sit comfortably on the slide. 

You look down at the cooing baby in the stroller in front of you. 

Your secondborn, the result of the love between you and Dae-ho. After the games, you and Dae-ho had much better lives full of happy marriages, healthy children and so many other things.

Never again will you be beaten by the hands of your loved one. Never again will you be talked down to by your loved one.

Dae-ho promised to treat you better, and there’s no about it.

After note: wrote this while listening to Kenji play Poppy Playtime 3 :)

taglist: @krissophia @come-as-you-are-111 @lovinqbella @hejjehdjfhrbbfbjgjgjfw @carlandoxlestappen @rileylovescats @fanneartist @hardbeingcasual @casually-simping @scarlettlupinblack @littlegirlmin @valvoria @glossedtears @gizaspicebag @ang3licbabydolly @silas-222

[potatomountain]

CIY- CH 17

Chapter Seventeen

📍Pairing: detective ateez ot8 x detective afab reader 📍Summary: "Down Bad" 📍WC: 3.4k 📍AU: detective/mafia 📍Genre: action, dark themes, poly romance, smut 📍Warning(s): 18+ rating, voyeurism, suggestive 📍Nets: @pirateeznet | @mirohs-aurora-society 📍Beta readers (and sole motivation): @flurrys-creativity , @candypop1611 , @yourfatherlucifer , @yessa-vie and edited(usually) by the amazing: @daemour

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Mingi stepped into the office through the back door, being gentle as he shut it as he was late. He was hoping to just slip over to his desk so Seomghwa wouldn't notice, but he froze up when the door to Yeosang's office opened up. He briefly spotted the plethora of monitors inside, but it was the man's expression that stopped him.

Yeosang looked… hurt almost. “You're late” He mumbled matter-of-factly, but didn't call out to the others like some of them would.

“Phone died.” Mingi replied sheepishly, holding up his phone that still only had a single digit battery percentage. He was usually good about charging his phone but last night he was far too preoccupied with you to remember and it died sometime between round four and round seven if he had to guess. And that was over twenty four hours ago.

His cock was twitching just at the memory of all you both had done.

Yeosang observed his face for a moment before his own expression shifted and then closed off. “Tell it to Hwa. Wooyo is already testing his nerves.” He stepped out of the room and headed down the hall without another word, something in his hands: several thick folders. He had been digging into some new people. Mingi’s curiosity almost had him forgetting his predicament, but he got close to his desk before his name boomed through the room. Flinching, he looked over to Seonghwa, a sheepish smile on his own face to try and defuse his anger.

The loud moan coming from Hongjoong’s office had him realizing that Seonghwa was not going to play nice any time soon. Yunho laughed at Mingi’s crestfallen expression as he sat down next to him, just to have the sound die in his throat, eyes fixated on his neck. “Now that almost everyone-” Seonghwa winced at Wooyoung’s cry from the Captain’s room, “-is here we can start.” He stood up a bit taller, hands folded behind him and jaw tense. “When was the last time he fucked you Hwa?” Yunho chimed in, leaning back in his seat. “It’s making you pissy. One of us could do the job?” Jongho scoffed, also in a bad mood. “Please. Everyone else has been waiting for the newbie to spread her fucking legs. Like dogs in heat just begging for a taste.” He narrowed his eyes on San. “You especially. Just fuck her already.” San rolled his eyes, setting down his usual drink that didn’t taste the same since you hadn’t brought it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “The gym? Really? I’ve been waiting to tear into you about it. In the arena? Seriously gross, we use that for practice.” Mingi sat up a bit more, brows pushed up. “What do you mean?” He turned to San. “Did you fuck her already? In the gym?”

San blushed, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck. “I just got her off with my fingers. Then Wooyoung called, Captain wanted me in the field and I had to leave her. I haven’t gotten to talk to her since.” The main reason for that was the swollen eye, again, and the stab wound on his thigh. He hadn’t wanted to worry you with his injuries again, so he had gone straight back to his shared apartment with Wooyoung. “And you won’t either. If we can move on from fucking her we can talk about putting her to work.” Seonghwa demanded everyone’s attention, clearly annoyed it took a moment for them to settle down. “She will start under Wooyoung-” “Seriously?” Jongho stood up quickly, hands on the desk. “He might-” “She will start under Wooyoung.” Seonghwa repeated through gritted teeth. “Because the rest of you have other orders. Yunho and I are returning to the warehouse and making our move there. San, you are to rest and stay in contact with the few informants of the Green Vipers. We need to know every move they make and to keep the suspicion off of us. Jongho-” He snarled his lip and pointed to the seat. “Sit first.” Jongho did, reaching for Yeosang who stood by his desk. Seonghwa took note of the files in Yeosang’s hand and frowned. When the quiet man noticed, he cleared his throat and spoke up. “Before you give me orders I would like to say something.”

Seonghwa was clearly confused, but nodded. “Speak.” Behind him the Captain’s door opened and out stumbled Wooyoung with a shit eating grinning, wiping off some spit from the corner of his mouth. Seonghwa didn’t dare look back just yet. “I’d like to look into the S.K unit some more-” “Binnie’s unit? Why is that?” Wooyoung walked over to him and wrapped an arm around his friend. “Oh you have his file? Not like you to snoop without an order Sangie. What’s the deal with the S.K Unit?” “It’s Butterfly’s old unit.” Yunho chimed in, interest cleared perked. “With that shitty fucking Captain?” Mingi sneered out, adding on. Wooyoung looked surprised. “Chan is the Captain that kicked her out? He didn’t seem shitty, really righteous and stubborn though.” Mingi scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You mean self-absorbed prick? He hurt-” He clenched his jaw, going quiet. Yunho gasped though, following his train of thought. “Oh you have it worse than I thought. Is that why you have hickies on your neck?” Several of them in the room reacted in shouts simultaneously. “Hickies? From Sweetcheeks?” “Oh did you two fuck?” “You’re fucking joking?! Thought you hated her too.” “Oh nice, me next!!” Seonghwa silenced them all by speaking over them? “Enough!” The chaos settled and he stared at Mingi who was now avoiding everyone’s gaze. “Spill.” “It’s not my place-” “They did.” Yeosang spoke up, an edge to his tone. “Back to what I was saying, Captain Chan has bothered her twice now and she had repeatedly told him to leave both times. First here, then at her apartment complex Saturday evening. She’s emotionally involved with most of the unit at least as friends, using two to help her with her undercover trial. I’d like permission to dig up anything I can use to get them to back off if they get too close.” The room went quiet, Wooyoung gawking at his friend while several others were just as shocked. It was Hongjoong’s laughter that broke the silence. “Wow, this is… wow.” He stepped up around Seonghwa and leaned against the nearest desk: Wooyoung’s. “So let me get this straight, Mingi has fucked her-” “Nonstop since Saturday evening.” Yeosang added with a deadpan expression. Hongjoong held up his hand to quiet the budding exclamations. “Mingi has been fucking her like a rabbit in heat, since Saturday, where I assume he had stepped into the altercation between Firecracker and Captain of the SK unit?” 

Yeosang nodded, giving his Captain all his attention. “Punched him and acted as her boyfriend. Wouldn’t want him to cause problems should he realize Mingi is part of her unit now.” Hongjoong chuckled at that, glancing at Mingi appreciatively with the others. “Good job. We’ll talk about the sex later.” “Then better scold San too. He did get her off in the gym. In the arena. Saw it on Yeosang’s monitor. Unfortunately.” Jongho sneered out. Hongjoong glared in his direction. “Thank you for your input. Yet it is looking like you are the only one who isn’t open to the idea of fully integrating her at this point, Jongho.” “He doesn’t want another woman. Man is still angry about the last- ouch!” Wooyoung hissed out when Jongho had reached around Yeosang to step on his foot. “It’s true!”

“I still believe she won’t be able to handle it.” Jongho grumbled, arms crossed. “But half of you are so whipped for her already what’s the point in fighting you on it. You want her, fine, but I still refuse.” Yeosang patted his shoulder before urging his Captain to speak. “Mingi has been fucking her, punched another Captain, San got her off in the gym-” “When did the Captain stop here?” Hongjoong asked curiously. “The day she was late and missed her usual breakfast. You had me install our information network on her laptop.” Yeosang offered, the room falling silent. “What? Did I say something wrong?” San sighed, leaning forward a bit. “How often do you watch her Sangie?” He furrowed his brows in confusion. “It’s surveillance San. I need to make sure she is trustworthy.” “How do you know her usual breakfast then? And how often she’s been fucking Mingi? And when her old chief bothers her?” “He has a point.” Wooyoung said with a grin. “Does Sangie finally like someone?” When the man in question grew flustered, he teased him further “ooo, did you get off on her getting off? Probably found the best angles to watch her get fucked by Mingi?” “I don’t have a clear view of every angle of her apartment.” Yeosang didn’t deny it though.

Mingi gawked. “You were watching me fuck her? Damn, I thought Wooyoung was the sex freak.” “Hey, that would be like at least half of us.” Wooyoung huffed out defiantly. Seonghwa sighed and sat down. “This is going nowhere. Joong, you’re enjoying this too much.” He elbowed the grinning man next to him in the side.

Hongjoong just chuckled. “They like her, it’s cute.”

“You set down precautions to keep Wooyoung in check right? Ensuring she doesn’t discover anything she shouldn’t?” Seonghwa ignored his comment, instead voicing his concerns. “Wooyoung will do his job well and Yeosang will be surveying their work as usual, yes. You and Yunho will be overseeing things in the warehouse. Make sure the Vipers struggle. If our little Firecracker’s idea is going to work, the Vipers need to be pressed on multiple sides.” “And if the Red Wolves catch on it was us that invaded their territory and not the Vipers? Will she be ready for action?” The others were going on about their own perverted tendencies, saying quite a few lewd things they wanted to do to you or see done to you. Neither Seonghwa or Hongjoong wanted to stop it for now. “Let’s hope we can get her focused on the Pink Boas and away from our other plans so that if things go south, she won’t be involved.” “And Mingi? Jongho?” The both looked at the two men, the former flustered as Yunho teased him about the hickies; the latter sneering in disgust at the conversation between Wooyoung and Yeosang as the techie was teased for his voyeurism. “While the Wolves have retaliated against the vipers, they are bound to spill something useful. They’ll be with me overseeing that.” “Will you be able to keep them from tearing each other up over the newbie long enough for that?” Seonghwa lifted a brow, naturally leaning towards his Captain. Hongjoong chuckled and nodded, reaching out to touch the small of Seonghwa’s back. “Yes, I think I can manage that.” He looked around the room taking in everyone’s current mood before demanding their attention, waiting until they were quiet before speaking. “Thursday. Until then we rest. Yunho, you're with Seonghwa. San rest but stay in contact. Mingi, Jongho will be with me and Wooyoung-” He smiled wider when the man straightened up, almost giddy. “You’ll be showing the ropes to our newbie. I briefed you earlier on the task, do make sure she is integrated well. Yeosang as always will keep up surveillance, communication and watching online activity.” He stood up, clapping his hands together. “Go rest up, it’s only monday. Oh and Mingi-” He smiled over at him. “Make sure you both can fucking walk thursday. Dismissed.” _____________________ You didn’t expect to wake up to knocks on your door, and you had no intention of actually getting up and out of bed unless you were finally called back to the Precinct to work. So you rolled over, about to nudge the man on the other side of the bed to have him deal with it, but it was empty.

Frowning, you lifted your head up and looked around the room, Mingi nowhere in sight. Right, it is Monday and he didn't have the day off like you did. Embarrassment flooded you at the thought of him telling the others about you, how you had been practically attached to his cock since Saturday night. You hadn't stopped to think about it, you didn't want to, and it had felt so good to just fuck and not think. You could think about it after some more sleep.

But there was more knocking, whoever it was clearly wasn't going away. And, they wouldn't be at your door unless the knew the code and you only told Hyunjin and registered it with the guard. Sighing you got out of bed, grabbing a house robe as an afterthought to hide the insane amount of hickies and bruises Mingi had left. You were sore, but deliciously so; Hyunjin didn't need to know that.

Hyunjin was not the one at your door though, but Mingi. You frowned, knowing it was still pretty early in the day- plus part of you didn't expect him to come back… didn't want to feel special when he did.

Stomping that feeling down you opened your mouth to greet him but froze up when Yunho leaned around him with a grin. “Damn, you weren’t lying.” You narrowed your eyes, moving to slam the door shut. Mingi’s hand shot through though, forearm getting stuck between the frame and door. Wincing at his grunt of pain, you let it swing back open. “Dumbass.” “Well you were going to shut us out!” He huffed, stepping in and reaching for you. He pouted when you stepped away, swiveling on your heel and putting distance between you and them. “Princess, why the cold shoulder now?” He knew why, you were certain of it, shooting a glare over your shoulder at Yunho who stood behind him. His presence meant you couldn’t just continue what you had been doing. No, now you had to talk. Which meant acknowledging things you weren’t ready to. Yunho lifted a brow, meeting your glare nonchalantly. “I won’t stay for long if I’m in the way of you two fucking, though I am so curious now.” Mingi looked between you two, that wide boba eyed, wet lip look that you thought was adorable on his features. Not that he had shown it often, usually aroundYunho when he wasn’t paying attention to you. But that’s also changed since Saturday. You suspected he only showed such an expression around those he was vulnerable with, and now that he did so in your presence, that would include you. It should stay just as sex, you told yourself, crossing your arms over your chest. “Then why are you here?” Mingi pouted out at your crisp tone, taking a step towards you until Yunho grabbed his arm. It was like a splash of ice water, a needed reminder of just what you were doing: stupid shit. It was stupid to sleep with Mingi, you made yourself vulnerable to him, yet you knew they were still keeping things from you. You weren’t a part of the team just yet, and you would never have what they had. It had your throat closing up, the distance between you was now suffocating. It was just sex.

Yet you didn’t want it to be. 

Mentally cursing yourself, you were saved from the downward spiral of your mind when Mingi did step closer. “I can have him go if you want, but he wanted to make sure I told you about the meeting today.” “Was pretty sure he would get on his knees and try to bury his face in your cunt as soon as he saw you if I didn’t. Though I would not complain if he did.” Yunho clarified, watching you with a now unreadable expression. It was almost calculating, but sympathetic? You didn’t understand, so you didn’t try. Mingi’s reddened ears were far more interesting. “Down that bad for my pussy?” You teased, unable to suppress the smug smirk. “Can you blame me?” He grumbled out hoarsely. “Anyways, you’ll be working with Wooyoung come Thursday.” You relaxed at the change in topic, especially for the topic to be work. Progressive work. “Oh? What will I be doing?” “Only Wooyoung knows that, but he’s the one that is the deepest in undercover, so chances are you’ll be starting your work there. Either stake outs, or being given a target to watch of high interest. The Green Vipers have been acting up so we need to have a good portion of our focus on them, and can’t be neglecting the rest otherwise.” Yunho started wandering around your living space, taking in the changes you have made since you unpacked. He smiled at a few things, which you would have paid more attention to, except Mingi was now right before you. And the fact that yes, you were finally doing your job. You could be crucial, you could do something inside this unit except argue with them and, well, fuck them. Your eyes met Mingi’s, a question in them you couldn’t put into words just yet. So you deflected. “What’s up with the Green Vipers?” Mingi reached out to play with the belt of your robe, waiting for your attention but your eyes were on Yunho as he now circled you both nonchalantly. “They invaded Red Wolves territory, killed a few of their men. San had been part of the-” “San? Is he okay?” Instantly worry filled you, knowing he got hurt so often and if he was involved in something that had others killed- “He’s fine, Butterfly. Resting at home.” Yunho stopped just behind you, leaning over your shoulder until you could feel him barely touching your back. Before you could react, the robe was open and Yunho had a good view of the marks on your neck and shoulder, down your body, and every inch of your naked skin. “Damn, you should be resting too. Mingi did such a number on you. You know he doesn’t like to leave marks on anyone outside the team.” You told yourself to push him away, but the position reminded you of the night at the club and you had so enjoyed being sandwiched between them. “I was resting until someone woke me up.” Mingi chuckled, knuckles tracing the curve of your chest before pinching your nipple in his hand and tugging. Your body reacted immediately, part of you ready to let them have their way.

Jeong Yunho just had to open his damn mouth though. “Chan is the biggest dumbass for letting you get away from him. San too for not fucking you when he had the chance. He heard those sounds and restrained himself?” He scoffed, leaning in to press an open mouth kiss to your neck. Only to meet air as you had slipped out of their reach and pulled your robe tight over your body. “You told him?!” You hissed out at Mingi, furious. You didn’t want your shame known to anyone else, it was a hard enough pill to swallow that Mingi was a part of it. And San? Did San spill the beans of what you did?

Was every ounce of intimacy you shared with them a frat joke to pass around behind your back? Had Mingi gone in detail about the many ways you let him fuck you? About how you had enjoyed it? It made your blood boil simply because you had not been ready to share. Not with most of them. Despite your questionable desires, you had hoped there would be enough respect to keep it between you and the one you had been with… otherwise you felt like a used slut to be passed around.

They seemed to realize how they fucked up, Mingi’s eyes wide while Yunho looked almost apologetic. “Princess I didn’t mean-”

“Save it.” You hissed out, lifting a shaking hand towards the door. “Leave. And do not bother trying to talk to me until I am ready to talk.” Venom laced your words, and from their reactions it hit home.

You watched them leave like pups with their tails between their legs, only when the door was shut did you let out a strangled cry.

How did things get even more complicated?

Taglist (form): @mingsolo | @wowie-hockey | @crispybaguettes | @tiny-apocalypse

| @philijack | @lelaleleb | @isiloiale | @vannabanana1995  | @piratequeen-queenofgames

| @starstruckforyou | @minheeskitten | @amphiroxx  | @cloudysannie | @sugarnspice630

| @sanhwalvr | @plutoneu |  @sousydive |  @fatalt | @iwishiwasrichasfuck

| @bitchwhytho | @st4rhwa | @thesafecafe | @alextheweeb7 | @ddaeing

Taglist will be continued in a reblog!!

[bangchansgirlsblog]

Hii i love ur work i was wondering if u could do an angst story when ur the fem 9th member and jyp adds another fem member and they start ignoring you yelling at u and acting harsh and only one member is by ur side all the time

Replaceable

-9th skz

Warning: yelling, panic attacks, harsh tones, angst

Pairing: I.N x 9th member

Summary: a new member joins your group and it seems everything starts crashing down when you realize your being slowly replaced.

!not proofread!

Hey thank you so much for the request! I hope you enjoy this short story lol! Have a good day 🩷

**

"Chan? I don't know where you are but I've been outside. Waiting. You promised to pick me up remember? Just text me or call me when you get this." I send the voicemail and let out a frustrated sigh. Had he forgotten to pick you up again? This was starting to become really annoying.

The last time he forgot because apparently the new girl, Haneul, needed help recoding something for the album. I let it go because it was the album after all and I want what's best for the team. But this time I had no idea why he wasn't texting or picking up.

The sky starts to drizzle and I let out a sigh. Slowly starting the walk home. I knew I was going to be soaking wet when I arrive at the dorms so I just put my phone in my bag to avoid it from getting spoilt.

The past few weeks, the schedule was really busy especially now that their was a 10th member. Everyone was trying to make her feel like home even offering her MY room as I took the couch until we were transferred to our new dorm. It was frustrating because now everyone's attention was on her and the fact that the boys were excited for a girl joining got me thinking that maybe they were tired of me.

The rain was pouring heavy now and my tears were too. Last week Han forgot to practice with you because he was with Haneul teaching her the rap part for the new song. Last week Felix forgot that you were making brownies with him and decided to do it with Haneul instead. Last week Changbin double booked his schedule with the recording studio and told me to come at a later date because Haneul needed more attention. LAST week Leeknow took her to the new game park when he had promised me to go with.

Haneul was slowly getting me replaced. The less I talked the more nobody would notice me.

My phone vibrates and I quickly pull out my phone.

"H-hello?" I say into it while snifling.

"Y/nie? Love? Are you there? What's all that noise?" I hear I.N's voice booming through the phone obviously panicking.

"I'm walking home." I sadly say looking at the puddles that had completely got my shoes wet.

"But it's raining dogs and cats outside! Yah! You're going to get sick."

"Chan forgot to pick me up again but it's okay I'm like 2 minutes away from the house."

"Oh baby. Let me make you some hot chocolate and run you a bath."

"You don't have to babe-"

"No I will! Now hurry along please. I want you home safe."

I say a little bye before rushing to get home.

My shoes let out squishy sounds against the hard wood floor as I make my way through the house.

"Where's Chan?" I glare at Changbin who's walking to the kitchen.

He stops and his eyes go wide when he finally sees me. "Oh my God. What happened babydoll?" He gasps at the state I'm in.

"Where. Is. Chan?" I ask one more time. Angry wasn’t even the word that could explain the emotion I felt at the moment.

"His in the studio-"

I walk past him and charge at the studio where I open the door to find him with Haneul laughing at something.

Was he being Foreal right now?

"Chan how could you?!" I say hurt at him causing him to jump and look up at me.

"Y/n? Oh my God what happened to you? Why are you soaking wet-"

"You fucking forgot to pick me up from schedules Where were you huh? Huh?" I frown and glare at him.

He looks panicked as he picks up his phone to check his reminders but his eyes open wide in realization.

"Oh my God- y/nie I'm so sorry. Haneul-"

“It’s okay,” I say not even bothering to fight with him. It wasn’t worth it. It was tiring.

"What’s going on guys?" Leeknow says coming into the room confused.

“Yah! Y/n your getting the whole house wet with your clothes? What’s your problem?” He scolds me.

“I had to walk through the rain and you don’t even care, no need to yell at me.”

The boys all start piling up into the room trying to figure out what the matter was.

"Y/n! Your wet!" Han exclaims

“Yes I think I get the point people!” I groan and shiver as the cold air hits my body.

“Y/n go get change please, now I have to clean up your mess,” Leeknow’s tone is harsh. I can hear it with a tint of frustration.

“Jeez Leeknow you won’t even bother to ask if I’m okay?” I roll my eyes trying to avoid the tears that threatened to fall down my cheeks once again.

He just dismisses me with his hand and walks out the room to do whatever he had too.

“Anyways, Haneul do you still wanna watch riverdale later?” My neck snaps at the direction that Hyunjin stood. Did he just say riverdale?

“Yeah yeah, I hope it’s not too much work but I was wondering if we could also make those little friendship bracelets-“

“Hyunjin did you just say riverdale? That’s our show,” my voice is now soft and quivering. Why would he watch our show with her.

“Y/n don’t be selfish, she’s just watching season one. It’s not a big deal.” He didn’t care. He didn’t care at all.

“We can alwyaks watch another series Hyunjin I don’t mind really-“

“Nah Y/n will be okay she’s just being dramatic like always,”

My breathing started to pick up. I couldn’t hold in the tears anymore. I was cold, tired, hungry and emotional. The sob that left my lips represented all that.

Chan’s eyes go wide when he notices the distress I’m in. “Hey, why are you crying? Are you okay?”

I don’t even bother to answer and just walk past the boys that stood by the door looking confused and worried.

“What’s the matter Y/n? Is it because of riverdale? Please don’t tell me you’re crying over that!” Hyunjin says as his hand grabs mine.

“You guys treat me like such a bother ever since she got here. I don’t know what I’ve done wrong. I’m I boring to you guys now? All of you have been mean or pushing me aside for her. I don’t even ask for much but to have my friends back. If you don’t want me in the group anymore just tell me.”

I’m a mess, I’m a mess. I free myself from his grip before walking up the stairs where I run into I.N. He gives me a smile and realizes the state I’m in. His smile drops.

“Hey- woah woah woah, what’s wrong?” He asks but he was the only one that knew the current position I was in. I had told him the day he saw Chan snap at me when we were learning a new choreography and I had messed up.

“I’m- I’m just tired.” I cry as he automatically pulls me into his arms.

“Don’t cry hmmm. It’s okay I’ve got you okay? Let’s go upstairs and get you showered and changed. Then we can talk about it okay?” He whispers in my ear and I just nod in response.

He pulls me up the stairs and into my room where I find my pajamas laid out and some candles lit. The bathroom was running.

He slowly undresses me and guides me into the bathroom where I sit in the hot bathtub.

“Join me?” I ask well basically whimper. Craving his touch.

He chuckles. “Yeah sure my love. You miss me hm?”

“Yeah,” I softly say before blushing.

He gets undressed and gets into the tab. He leans back as I sit in between his legs. My body slowly meting into his.

He leaves tiny kisses on my naked shoulders while slowly massaging my neck. I find my body relaxing and slowly shutting down.

“Hey do you wanna talk about it now?”

“Mmm, it’s just that Everbody’s been acting so different towards me eve since she joined, I told you this last time but now it’s worse. Sometimes they don’t even acknowledge my existence.” I sigh feeling the sadness start to rise again.

“Baby, I told you last time to talk to them about it. What happened?”

“I don’t know I geuss, I geuss I just don’t want to make them feel like they’re picking.”

“But it’s your feelings that matter

**

LMAO THIS IS LIKE ONE OF THE FIRST STORIES I TRIED TO DO, SHOULD I DROP IT?😭

[dustyrkives]

Older GF Ada Wong HCs

PAIRING: older ada x fem reader

WARNINGS: age-difference, sfw, and nsfw (GP ada!!!)

🌹: She may deny it, but she loves being older than you–yes, she thrives in power play and will use her wisdom and experience, often calling you sweetheart, baby and little love just to see you blush and pout. She loves teasing you that way.

🌹: Your safety is her top priority, knowing her job and its demands–she can't afford losing you to her enemies. You are her home, her sanctuary and the light of her life–though she won't admit that. She is dead serious when it comes to your well-being. your phone? It has a tracer so she can monitor your whereabouts, jewelry? Yep! That too. And anyone who thinks they can get away with you won't live long enough to regret it.

🌹: Ada being Ada disappears sometimes, but rest assured–she always returns to you with that signature smirk and lavish clothes. Oh, you had your eye on that necklace? BOOM! Ada bought it for you; a rare book you mentioned once? BAM! It's atop your desk. When you like something or take an interest in something, Ada remembers it like a strategy and will pass it off as:

"I happen to pass by it," Or "A souvenir from work, darling."

🌹: As Ada's younger girlfriend–she has a soft spot for you. Only you. She stands on business with others, but when she's with you? Her walls drop–just a little. She'll let you cling to her, cuddle her–despite being touch-repulsed, Ada is touch-starved. Only for you, though. When you're cuddling with her, expect that you are pressed firmly against her, basking in your warmth and touch.

🌹: As a mercenary, it makes her feel at ease if she teaches you how to defend yourself. "Sweetheart, just in case..." She may not admit it, or say it outright–but knowing that she's out for a while doing her missions and leaving you defenseless makes her feel disturbingly uneasy.

🌹: Ada has a way of making even the most casual moments feel charged. She'll whisper something suggestive in your ear and walk away, leaving you red and flustered for the rest of the day. When you finally have the courage to return the favor, she merely smirks, amused by your efforts.

🌹: She dresses you up for dates, often handing you elegant outfits and taking you to an exclusive restaurant. Ada loves spoiling you, and she enjoys it when people ogle at the two of you–but she ensures that they know you are hers.

"Wear this for me, darling. Red is a good look on you, you know."

🌹: Due to her job, she goes away for quite a while and it kills you knowing she's out there risking her life for a contract. But she always comes back to you, whether she's injured–she will crawl her way back to you. Anything to have you in her arms and vice versa.

🌹: Time hasn't been kind to Ada's body. She may not show it, but she feels a little bit insecure when she sees her old scars from her missions and would wear cardigans, sweaters, and jackets just to cover them. She is old and her deteriorated body shows it, but when you kiss her scars and reassure her that you love her nonetheless–it only makes her love you and cherish you more–though she won't say, rather, she'd show it to you by clinging onto you.

🌹: May act unbothered–but is actually jealous. It feels good to know that you're attracted to her and pursued her despite being older–but that doesn't mean she is seething with jealousy whenever someone your age or basically anyone flirts with you. Ada is secure and trusts you to know and acknowledge that you are hers. But the way that she will wrap her arm around your waist or put her hand on the small of your back or lean in just a little to close? Yep–she's staking her claim. And trust me when I say that when you two are home? She'll have you screaming her name all night.

"You." Thrust! "Are." Thrust! "Mine!" Thrust!

Your eyes roll back before closing while your lips are agape as she continues to ruthlessly pound into you. The veins around her cock throb and drag deliciously against your walls, molding it to her size so you know you're hers inside and out.

🌹: This woman LOVES to make you squirm, oh, she knows what she's doing–whispering nasty things in your ear that has your legs quivering and your pussy wet with want. Her lips would brush against your ear and leave you hanging for more.

🌹: Ada is always in control and loves making you beg–whether it's another kiss or another round? Use your words. And even when her wrists are bound while you ride her–trust me when I say she'll escape the cuffs and flip you beneath her before fucking you. HARD. She'll jackhammer her cock into your tight, warm cavern. The bed creaking under the force of her thrusts. She'd pin your wrists on the side of your head while she playfully taunts you:

"Nice try, darling." Ada coos as she pistons her rigid, throbbing cock inside you. "Let's not forget who gave you the authority to be on top."

🌹: In public–you are not safe from her teasing. Dinners and dates become a dangerous game when Ada decides to see how long you can stay composed when she has her hand on your thigh, tip-toeing closer to your clothed core. Oh, you're awkward and stiff? That's Ada fingering you underneath the table. You bowing your head while Ada drinks her red wine while she's holding her phone? That's her putting the vibrator on max inside you. She is wicked and enjoys watching you try and fail to act normal. No worries, she'll let you let loose when you go get home.

🌹: She’ll casually strut around in nothing but a silk robe, acting completely unfazed while you struggle to keep your eyes anywhere but on her. And if you call her out? She’ll just smile and say:

"Something wrong, sweetheart? You look a little… distracted."

After all, it's for convenience–especially when the vision of you bent over the table while she fucks you from behind...is starting to look a little too good.

🌹: Whether it’s her lips ghosting over yours, her breath warm against your neck, or her fingers tracing slow, lazy patterns on your skin—she takes her time. Ada enjoys watching you unravel under her touch, and she’ll make sure you remember every second of it.

🌹: She’s not really a morning person, but she is the type to wake you up with a slow, lazy kiss—starting at your collarbone and making her way up. And if you try to get up too soon? A firm hand on your waist keeps you exactly where she wants you. She has morning wood? How convenient, you're always in the mood for morning sex, right?

🌹: You trying to take control? Adorable. But the moment you start getting impatient and desperate for her touch? That’s when she really enjoys herself. She’ll give you exactly what you want—but only when she’s ready. She loves it when you get needy. And the way that you grind against her to get off especially when her cock is inside you? Oh, she can just cum at the sight of you shamelessly meeting her thrusts and using her for your pleasure. Even better when you cum from just by doing all the work by yourself. Truly exquisite.

Being with Ada Wong is a thrilling mix of danger, passion, and an irresistible game of cat and mouse. She knows exactly how to keep you on your toes—one moment she’s teasing you mercilessly, the next she’s whispering sweet nothings that make your heart race and fucks you like there's no tomorrow. She’s dominant, possessive in all the right ways, and very aware of the effect she has on you. At the end of the day, though, beneath all the mystery and teasing, Ada loves you in her own way. She may not always say it outright, but every lingering touch, every heated glance, and every time she comes back to you—no matter where she’s been—proves that you’re the one person she’ll never let go of. And really, who could ever resist her? Because sure as hell–I won't.

[winchesterwild78]

The Actor’s Secret 

Master list 

Characters: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Just a fluff piece. 

A/N: Springboarding off of @jackles010378  story. Jensen is single in this. No mention of divorce, but he’s single.

Reader is an actress on the set of Countdown and is enamored with Jensen. Can she keep her feelings to herself? Is her secret crush unrequited? 

Minors DNI 18+

The clapper snapped, a sharp, decisive sound that echoed through the cavernous soundstage. "Cut!" The director's voice boomed, and the tension that had been thick during the intense scene dissipated. I exhaled, finally able to release the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

"Countdown," a new show on Amazon, was my big break, and playing opposite Jensen Ackles, well, that was like winning the lottery twice. For years, he'd been the face on my bedroom wall, the star I secretly admired from afar. Now, I was playing his co-star, and the fantasy was rapidly turning into something... more.

Months on set had turned admiration into a full-blown, undeniable crush. I'd become a master of the stolen glance, the lingering touch during a scene, the nervous flutter in my stomach whenever he was near. I lived for the moments our characters interacted, the charged energy between us that felt achingly real.

Today, there was a lull in filming. The crew was resetting a complex prop, and Jensen, ever the easygoing one, pulled out a battered acoustic guitar. He settled into a director's chair, and the first chords resonated through the bustling set.

He started to sing, his voice a low, warm rumble that sent shivers down my spine. It was a soulful melody, a raw, emotional piece that seemed to pour directly from his heart. I sat across from him, pretending to scroll through my phone, but my eyes were glued to him. I nervously chewed my lip, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs, especially when he’d look up, his eyes meeting mine for a fleeting moment.

When the last note faded, a hush fell over the set. My heart was a frantic drumbeat in my ears. I needed to get out of there, to escape the overwhelming intensity of the moment. I stood up, my legs feeling a little shaky.

Jensen stood and followed me. 

"Hey," he said, his voice soft, "What did you think?"

I turned, my cheeks flushed. "It was... amazing," I stammered, "Just like you."

He smiled, a genuine, warm smile that made my stomach flip. He stepped closer, his hand gently brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. "You're beautiful," he murmured.

My breath hitched. The boldness, fueled by months of suppressed feelings, surged through me. I leaned in, closing the distance between us, and softly pressed my lips to his.

He didn't pull away. Instead, his lips met mine with a surprising tenderness, a gentle pressure that sent a wave of pure, unadulterated joy through me. The kiss deepened, a silent confirmation of a feeling I'd only dared to dream about.

When we finally broke apart, his eyes were searching mine, a mixture of surprise and something else, something that looked suspiciously like...relief.

"I... I didn't think you felt the same way," he whispered, his voice husky.

A wave of giddy happiness washed over me. "You didn't?" I asked, a smile spreading across my face.

He shook his head, a soft laugh escaping his lips. "I've been trying to find the right moment for weeks," he admitted, his hand gently cupping my cheek. "I thought I was the only one with a secret crush."

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[krystella-shifts]

We only accept Success😌💅🏻✨

This all happened today and yesterday lmao 🤭

I was craving this dessert which was SO good since I had one bite of it yesterday. And today my mom went shopping i told her to get it. But when she came back it seemed like she didn't get it, she even said something but I was like "no I'm not accepting this reality. I am so grateful I got this sweets" and I said that a few times and i went back to doing my thing on my phone. Like five minutes later she handed me the box of surprise surprise, just what I wanted ofc

I wanted a new purse and I saw THE PERFECT ONE OMG IT'S SO AESTHETICCC. I posted about it in my last success stories post but the thing was it was too big for me to carry 😭 so i wanted another smaller one since forever, didn't affirm for it but days later i finally saw the one I liked but THEN 😃 my big ahh phone (which i manifested duh) wasn't fitting into that purse 😭 i then decided to affirm but idk and then yesterday out of nowhere mom got me another purse akakaj 😭 it's all glittery and so pretty!! And just yesterday in the morning I was thinking how much I love glitter. It's all connected you guys 😌

I got so many dresses already lmao 💀 so i wasn't gonna get a birthday special dress for tomorrow, my birthday. But i KNEW I was gonna and tf I did just yesterday. It's purple, one of my fav colour! 🎂🤭💜

i manifest day to day stuff a lot, cuz why not? And I was watching this show and one of the characters had butterfly symbols and later that day or maybe it was the day after I got almost exact type of butterfly rings and necklace 😭✨ IT'S SO PRETTYY and the colour is SAME EXACT same too!

I somehow have more money than there was in my acc 😃 tysm universe lmao

Manifested my earbuds to fix and charge bro my lovely earbuds I LOVE THAT THEY EXIST 😭😭 yeah so they charge now and i don't have to create creative ahh hacks to charge it anymore 😃👍🏻

Mind you I didn't affirm for most of these and if I did, it was just a little bit. Lmao i didn't do anything more than just want it and boom 💥 I got it 😌💅🏻

[auroras-secrets]

𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮

pairing: tangerine x reader

tw: nsfw, obsessed!tangerine, m!masterbation, dom!tangerine (?)

message: when you see a dead bird on the floor, don't eat it. that's all i ask of you. i am not in charge of what you read, only you and God can condemn to your sins. i don't care if you're underage; unless you enjoy, in that case, thank you.

1.3K words

Tangerine was going over a few papers in his folder when he felt his phone buzz on the counter. He picked his phone up to see what the notification was. 

LEMON:

on my way

you better be ready when i get there

Tangerine read the text from his brother and put his phone back down and started packing his papers up to put into his bag. He walked into the living room from the kitchen and sat down the sofa. He pulled his duffel bag in between his legs to check things off his list, making sure he had everything he needed. He suddenly felt two arms on his shoulders and slowly sliding down and interlocking at his check, a chin on his left shoulder. 

"When are you coming back?" You pouted as you looked at his face. The stressed look on his face dissipated. The crease in his forehead, the furrow in his brows, the slight biting on his cheek, all disappearing the second you touched his shoulders.

"I'll be back in three days, love" He answered, turning his head slightly to look at you. Your pout deepened. 

"That's too loooong uh" You groaned, dragging out the word 'long'. He chuckled and shook his head. He held your hand that was on his chest. 

"Come here" He said and motioned you to stand in front of him. You unwrapped your hand from his chest, your right hand still in his as you walked around the couch to stand in front of him. He leaned back slightly and patted his lap. You sat down on his lap, both legs on one side, your butt on one of his laps. He put the hand that he was holding around his neck, your mindlessly do the same with your other arm. His hands went to your waist. 

"I'll be back before you can miss me" He smiled softly at you. 

"I miss you already, does that mean you're not goin'ta leave?" You asked, your pout still prominent. He laughed and shook his head at your antiques. His heart aching at the thought of leaving you. Sure, he was away a lot and for long periods of time, but that doesn't make him feel better. 

"I might as well pack you in my bag" He half-joked, if he were to stay true to his checklist of needs, you would be the first thing on it. You rolled your eyes and laid your head on his shoulder. 

"You were gone for a whole week last week, now that you're finally back, you're leaving again" You mumbled, feeling neglected slightly. Tangerine sighed and ran a hand through your hair. 

"Last one baby, then you'll have me for two whole months. Maybe we can go on a vacation? The beach?" He said, understanding how you felt. He didn't mean to be away all that much, but their handler was getting a lot of jobs, and they were the only ones available. 

"That'd be nice" You smiled into his shoulder. He placed a hand on your cheek and you raised your head from his shoulder. He cupped your face with both his hands, a soft smile on his lips, one only reserved for you. He tilted your head slightly and pressed his lips onto your forehead.

"You deserve the world my love" He mumbled against the skin of your forehead. He pulled away and gave you another smile, you reciprocate the smile. 

"Now give me a goodbye kiss before Lem gets here" He said, you leaned in and put your lips onto his. A slow passionate kiss, a kiss saying i love you. 

"Where's my goodbye kiss?" A booming voice said as the front door opened. You pulled away, making Tangerine frown. You turned your head to look at the front door to see Lemon at the door with his duffle bag. He dropped it to the floor and opened his arms, motioning for a hug. You eagerly got off of Tangerine's lap and made your way to Lemon and hugged him, letting him engulf you in his arms. It was a warm and platonic hug, made you feel safe. Tangerine got up from his position and bent down to grab his bag. 

"Alright let's get going" He said as he glanced over the apartment one more time, as if checking if he was missing anything. You pulled away from Lemon's hug and he gave your a small peck to your temple. You leaned against the wall near the door as they both got ready to leave. They shared a look and then nodded. 

"Hope you guys get there safe, and come back to me in one piece please, we don't want another bullet train level injury" You said as you wrapped your arm around Tangerine, giving him one last hug. 

"No promises" Lemon joked and picked his duffle bag up again, and started walking out of the house standing outside the door waiting for Tangerine. As you loosened your arm around Tangerine, an idea popped into your head.

"Wait!" You said quickly, putting your hand on Tangerine's chest to stop him before he left. Both Lemon and Tangerine turned to you. 

"I need to give you something, wait a sec" You said and hurried to the bedroom, closing the door behind you slightly. The twins watched you make it to the room and close the door behind you, they then looked at each other. 

"I'll go downstairs first and start the car" Lemon said nodding towards the elevators at the end of the hallway. Tangerine nodded and handed him his duffle bag. Lemon left for the elevators as you made your way out of the room. You walked up to Tangerine and stuffed something into the pocket on his pants, secretively. 

"For when you're alone" You said suggestively and gave him a teasing smile. He raised an eyebrow and eyed you. 

"What are you up to?" He asked, a smile tugging at his lips. 

"Find out when you're alonee" You said in a teasing tone and shrugged. He opened his mouth to say something but you cut him off. 

"Okay go! Lem's waiting" You said and hit his chest softly, pushing him out the door. 

"I love you" You said as you watch him walk down the hallway, ever so confused.

"I love you!" He called back walking rather slowly, when he heard the door shut and heard the lock click, he started walking faster to catch up to Lemon, dying to know what it was that you slipped into his pocket.

- 

Lemon let out a huge sigh as he plopped onto the bed, throwing his diffle bag onto the armchair. The twins had just reached their hotel room and they were exhausted from all the travelling and it was currently 12 in the morning. Tangerine was dying to know what was in his pocket, and also take a shower. 

"Lem I'm gunna hop 'nta the shower yea?" Tangerine said as he opened his duffle bag and looked for clothes to change into. When he got a snore for an answer, he knew Lemon wouldn't be taking a shower. He grabbed his clothes and head into the bathroom. He set his clothes on the counter and grabbed one of the folded towels on top of the rack and hung it on the wall hook near the shower. He set his phone on top of his nicely folded clothes. 

He unbuttoned his shirt, unbuckled his belt, but before he slipped out of his pants he reached into his pocket to pull out whatever it was that you placed inside. 

"For fucks sake" He let out a slight groan as he saw his, therefore your, favourite black lace thong. He shut his eyes and licked his lips for a second, trying to contain himself, but his urges were too strong for his morality. He stripped himself of his clothes instantly and let out a small sigh as he brought the pathetic excuse of a pantie to his nose, taking your scent in. 

His dick was upright, the tip leaking and red. He bit his lip at the faint smell of you on the thong. He tongue escaping his mouth and softly kitten licking the thong, to get some form of taste. The slight taste of your pussy made him groan into the fabric. 

All he wanted to do was have you on the bed, legs on his shoulder, his head buried between your legs. Until you were squirting on his face. To the point where it could be four days later and he would still be able to taste you on his mustache. 

He brought the thong away from his face and wrapped it around his dick. Trying to think about you, the way your eyes would look up at him as you suck him off, the way your hand felt around him, the way your tongue would perfectly wrap around his cock. You knew him like the back of your hand, you knew exactly how to suck him off so that he crumbled into your fingertips.

He let out a small moan as he rubbed himself, quickly biting into the back of his hand to muffle his sounds, wishing that he was biting into your skin instead. He threw his head back slightly, his gaze on the ceiling. All his brain could think about was you. 

Your scent, your taste, your moans, your skin, your tongue. 

He shut his eyes and swallowed hard as he rubbed himself faster. He imagined you on your knees in front of him, your soft hand rubbing him as you looked up at him with your big beautiful eyes. His hand could never compare to yours. So soft and delicate. He let out a shaky sigh as he felt a familiar pressure in his abdomen. He groaned softly.

The effect you had on him was chimeric, like something conjured from a dream. 

The feeling of his rough hands in contrast to your soft one, his hands running through your body, touching every part of you. If he had blue paint in his hands and touched you, you would be covered head to toe, by blue paint. 

He thought of the way your tits bounced with every thrust into you. The way you arched your back, the way you eyes rolled back, the way you bit your lip, and the way your legs shook around him as you came on his cock. 

Everything about you was so perfect, so proportionate. As if your hand was designed the way it is just for you to hold his hand. Your tits the size they are so they could fit perfectly in his hands. You lips hand-sculpted by Michelangelo himself. Each and every curve on your body, designed just for him, and only him. 

With that thought in his mind, the thought of you belonging to him, that you were made for him to love and cherish, for him to pleasure and ruin — he came. 

He came hard. Making sure to cum into your pantie so that he didn't have to clean up a mess on the floor afterwards. He let out a big sigh and his knees bucked slightly. He leaned against the wall, the cool wall constrasting the hotness of the skin on his back. He licked his lips and swallowed as he looked down to see the mess he made.

Absolutely ruined your thong. The white cum juxtaposing the black fabric of the thong. Making it seem like the night sky, filled with stars. He got off the wall and reached for his phone, snapping and picture of his semi-hard dick and the ruined thong. He threw the thong into the sink, to wash after his shower, and opened his messages app on his phone. 

Looking at the two pinned numbers at the top, he clicked on your picture and clicked to add an image. 

TANGERINE:

Attatchment ¬ 🖇️

Miss you.

Y/N:

Video Attatchment ¬ 🖇️

miss you more :(

TANGERINE:

You are in deep shit when I'm back

Y/N:

aww mann 😁

fin.

tangerine masterlist: liked this? read more!