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simpjaes · 4 months

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NIGHT-SHIFT (p.sh)

Sunghoon, a keen and professional man between the hours of 8 AM to 5 PM. ServiceKing, a faceless and proud man between the hours of 9 PM to 12 AM. Sunghoon’s secret night-life has nothing to do with the faces he sees day after day...until it does. or the one where you pay for a one on one call with a faceless cam guy you’ve been watching for a little while, and the next day your boss is avoiding you like the plague.

minors dni

PAIRING ― boss / cam boy!sunghoon x afab reader

WORDCOUNT― 4.5k

WARNINGS― dub-con since reader doesn’t know it’s him.

CONTENT― office setting, sunghoon is a service top/soft-dom/whatever his clients need lol

NOTE ― this was supposed to be a drabble, but i just....it needed a little more plot sorry. it's not very good, like fr this is not up to par with what I wanted... but i wrote it so im gonna post it.

nsfw tags under cut

nsfw tags― dubious consent, cam sex/virtual sex, dirty talk, masturbation instructions, umm…finger fucking, jerking off, fantasies, role-play type stuff

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

What are the chances? Honestly, what are the fucking chances?

Sunghoon sits up quickly from his relaxed position upon hearing a voice far too familiar on the other end of this call. He’s lucky he doesn’t have his camera on just yet, you’d have seen the embarrassing reaction to…well…hearing you of all people.

He knows the world can be small sometimes, but this is too small for comfort as he hears your muttered voice through the microphone again.

“So, what am I supposed to do?” You say.

“Ah, uh–” Sunghoon pauses. There’s no way it’s actually you. Can you not recognize his voice too? “What type of call did you request again?”

“Full service.” You remind him.

Oh. You’re into this kind of thing? That pretty, well-mannered employee of his? The one who sips coffee quietly at her desk while actually responding to her emails? The one who never shows up to co-ed parties? The one who always dresses appropriately and addresses him in a timid way?

You…just paid a cam-boy to get you off in full? Not just any cam-boy either, you paid him?

God, his cheeks are so heated at the arousing thought. Never once has he ever imagined you in any scenario that doesn’t involve excel spreadsheets and finances. Arguably, you’ve probably never thought of him all spread out fucking his fist either but…you’ve blatantly seen him do it already.

He wonders how long you’ve been seeing this part of him, how long you’ve been getting yourself off all alone while he puts on a show for hundreds, and sometimes, thousands of people.

As detrimental as this is, it’s his job to do this. You paid him to do it, just like how he pays you to do your job. He can’t be letting this hold him back. No, in fact, he needs to get this hour long session over with as quickly as fucking possible.

“Right,” Sunghoon lends a chuckle, nervous sounding on his end but to you it just sounds cheeky. “Can I get your name, babe?”

You’re quiet at first, never having done this before and absolutely not wanting this random horny guy to know who you are. Honestly, you already requested that only he turns his camera on during this call as well. As if you’d give out your real name. You give him a name that rhymes with your own instead, and there’s another chuckle after.

He knows you’re lying. Out of all the employees that are under him, you’re the one he has to correspond with the most. After all, you’ve been up for the promotion to being his assistant for the past three months. He knows that isn’t your name.

Smart girl, just like he knew you were.

“Is that so?” He tilts his head at his blank screen in amusement, watching the microphones light up with each breath. “Alright, and you’ll do everything I say, yes?”

You nod to no one, realizing he can’t see you and instead giving him a hum and gentle words of “of course.”

His image flashes across your screen just moments later. The same as his usual streams. Face out of frame, hand strong and willing, his cock out and on display– only half hard.

“Listen to me very carefully,” Sunghoon calls out now, as if to show you that it’s time to begin, your almost-name falling from his lips shortly after. “Don’t hold your breath, you paid good money for this, and I want to hear you.”

Oh man, this is embarrassing for you to be doing this. But truly, anything at this point is better than another night all alone.

And he does hear you. Relishing in that voice he hears day to day reciting memos and budgets, only this time, you’re calling out pleasurable reactions to how he tells you to fuck yourself.

He’s good at it too. You can’t help but listen to every word, touching and massaging when he instructs you to, stopping just short of orgasm for him to ask, “That feels good, doesn’t it? Wish you had me doing it for you, isn’t that right?”

Always using the fake name. Giving you full-service by the end of the call.

Safe to say, you’re feeling refreshed by the next morning as you ready yourself for work, wanting very much to book the infamous ServiceKing again.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Fuck, he can’t even look at you. Not after the way he got off last night.

Not after hearing you moan out the way you did while he simultaneously imagined you all spread out on his desk for him. Not after hearing the fucking wet between your legs as you frantically tried to cum when he told you to.

Not after you did cum for him.

“Mr. Park–” You chime through his door, not quite noticing the way he stiffens in his seat.

God, if you had called him that last night…

“Hm?” He composes himself by acting bored and uninterested in whatever papers you have held tightly against your chest. “What is it?”

“I got the statements back from our parent company, I think–”

“Great. Just set them down on my desk.” He cuts you off, patting his desk before hoping you get the fuck out of his office before he ends up breaking office rule number one.

What is office rule number one, you might ask? Never fuck a co-worker. What’s worse is that you’re not his fucking co worker. You’re his employee.

You raise a brow at his demeanor this morning. The usual not-so-up-tight Sunghoon appearing far too distracted today compared to usual. Most mornings, he’ll at least give you a smile and a “thank you.”

“Mr. Park, is there anything I can get for you?” You ask with concern in your voice.

Sunghoon pauses every thought in his head as he looks at you. Narrowing his eyes and wondering if maybe he’s just overreacting. Maybe he's mistaken and that girl from last night isn’t you at all. After all, there’s plenty of people with the same pitch in their voice. She didn’t even turn on her camera, and she gave him a different name anyway.

Maybe he just wishes it was you.

“No, I’m fine–” He says, mistakenly calling out the fake name rather than your actual name.

You miss the way his eyes widen for a split second before correcting himself to your real name.

“Ah, my apologies. Got a little tongue tied.”

You stand there in shock. No way in hell he just called you by the name you spoofed to a cam-boy last night. Coincidences can be so weird, and being called that hits you a little too close to home.

It feels awkward in the room now and both of you play it off as a genuine mistake. Though, to you, it has to be a genuine tongue-tied version of your name. Sunghoon couldn’t possibly know about that. Besides, he appears to be more tired than usual anyway, so…you choose to believe it’s a crazy coincidence.

You give him a nervous chuckle as you wave yourself off and out of the room with a small “It’s okay, you know where I am if you need anything.”

What he needs is to watch his fucking mouth. What he needs is to stop thinking about how you just reacted to being called that. What he needs is to pretend that none of this is happening and do his goddamn work.

And he tries. He really does. Unfortunately, his eyes go from blurs of numbers and words on spreadsheets to the window of his office. Just outside of it. You.

How is he supposed to focus after kind of, accidentally, practically fucking you? Sure, he never touched you but…it really was you. The way you reacted to that name was so telling, and he can’t help but actually check you out now.

You, with that body. You got off to him, with those legs of your spread out while staring into a screen. All alone, listening to his voice, moaning for him…and now you’re just sitting there in your business casual outfit like he’s not unintentionally getting hard.

So, he avoids you. At all fucking costs, he avoids you.

You get up from your desk? So does he, making sure that if you start coming his way, he’s walking out and in the opposite direction. You send him an email? Out of office, despite clearly sitting at his desk. You call his phone to ask a question? He forwards you to his current assistant.

And this happens for days. To the point you know that promotion is slipping from your fingers.

Naturally, you’re frustrated with the office-dynamic. After all, you’ve heard rumors of picking favorites. You thought you were one of them, but it appears that Sunghoon may just decide to try and beg his current assistant to stay with bribes of double pay.

You’re more frustrated as the days go by. Leaving work yet again with no good-byes from the boss who used to show appreciation for how hard you worked. He’s colder than usual, he’s stiffer than usual, he’s– a fucking asshole these days.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Ping!

Sunghoon stares at his secret email in disbelief.

NEW REQUEST FROM: [your email/username]

$500 PENDING.

FULL SERVICE.

Requester note: work has been hard lately, will you help me de-stress for a little while?

[ACCEPT REQUEST] [DECLINE REQUEST]

Sunghoon hovers over the decline button for a solid thirty seconds as he burns a hole through his screen. Work has been hard for you lately, huh? Has it now? Try being him.

He shifts his mouse to the accept button, wondering if he even needs that extra five hundred dollars. Those funds just to suffer more at work? Just to suddenly have the need randomly throughout his day to make you moan for him? Just to have the sounds of your pretty voice echoing in his head more and more the longer he ignores you?

His finger clicks, hitting the accept button as he lets out an exasperated sigh.

Why did he just do that?

Wait.

Maybe this will help him get through the work weeks. Fucking you through words alone in secret, never telling you who he is, always letting you use him even if it’s just through audio and visual stimulation.

After all, if you found out who ServiceKing is, you very well may quit. Hell, you might get him fired. Fuck.

This is dangerous.

Yet, he feels the excitement in his gut before it even hits his cock as the clock ticks. He gets to hear you again soon, you get to watch him cum again soon, he–oh, he’s so turned on right now just thinking about it.

And the time comes too slowly for his liking. He feels as if he’s been edged by the time the two of you enter the call and he’s immediately turning his camera on.

“Ah, look who it is,” Sunghoon starts, already positioning himself with a raging hard cock on the screen. “Had me wondering if you’d come back to me.”

You don’t know why your cheeks heat up, but the feeling in your gut is miles better than the frustration and anxiety that you felt throughout the day.

“I was wondering the same thing,” You speak into the mic meekly, hiding your face despite knowing he can’t see it. “I just need to get my mind off of stuff for a little while.”

“Oh yeah?” Sunghoon chuckles into the mic, his face perfectly hidden. “Wanna give me some context? Maybe I can use some of the information for–”

“God.” You immediately start, shutting the man up on the other side of the screen in an accidental frustration-dump. This is not what you paid him for, but you still appreciate the space to release your brain before, well, your cum. “My fucking boss.”

Sunghoon’s ears perk up, lazily stroking himself as you continue with a frantic voice.

“I swear he just flipped on me. I thought I was doing so good, I thought I was gonna get that new position, but now he’s just ignoring me and treating me like some temp or something.”

Sunghoon hums lowly, listening intently to the way you bring him into conversation to a man that…unfortunately, is that very same boss.

“Hmm, that’s interesting.” Sunghoon continues palming himself as he soothes you through your frustrations. “Your boss isn’t praising you.”

You pause, feeling a ping in your gut.

“If I were him, I’d praise you every day–” Sunghoon softens his voice. “Every night.”

“Oh…” You listen to his words, feeling your frustration melt out of you in an instant as you now focus on the way his cock twitches through the screen.

“Wouldn’t let you go a second without thinking of how good I am to you.” He continues, both hyping himself and degrading his day-time self. “If I were your boss–”

You interrupt his words with a very quiet groan, he fucking heard it.

“Mm, you like that?” He smiles to himself, gripping the base of his cock and thrusting up to show the full size to you. “The thought of your boss liking you a little too much?”

You hum. Not that you’ve ever thought about it too deeply, but now that he’s said it, praising you, putting down your actual boss, telling you what he’d do if he were him?

You guess, for tonight anyway, you’re into it.

“What’s his name, babe?” Sunghoon asks, wondering if you’ll actually out his name to a stranger.

“Park Sunghoon.” You expose him instantly, full name and all, even with a bit of bite in your voice.

Damn.

“Oh, yeah?” Sunghoon draws back, jerking his hand up once. “I’d fuck you better than Park Sunghoon.”

You smile at the thought, imagining yourself with more power than Sunghoon has. Like you’re his boss, you’re the one dangling a promotion just out of reach before giving it to someone else.

“See this?” The man on the screen grunts out to you, fucking tight thrusts into his fist. “Watch me, baby, get a good look.”

And you do watch. Intensely, you stare at his big cock, the head of it darkened and leaking with each pass of his hand. You’re not even touching yourself at this point, but it’s like you can feel the force of it.

“Now, I need you to open those legs for me.” He instructs you.

You do as he says much like before, letting your legs fall open but not yet letting yourself touch. You still sigh at the movement, your panties alone shifting were enough to make you want to hump your hips up.

“Now, turn on your camera.”

Silence. Your ears ring momentarily at the words as you immediately close your legs.

“What?” You ask in a higher-pitched tone than usual. “I requested for no c-”

“No.” Sunghoon mutters, shifting his position to lean towards the microphone and whispering now. “You do as I say.”

He hears you huff at his words, but he hears the shifting around on your end.

“I want to see that pussy open for me.” He continues in that same low-rumbled voice. “I want to see what Park Sunghoon is missing out on.”

You don’t know what it is about this situation that turns your discomfort into pure, rushing arousal. Never in your life have you ever considered fucking yourself on camera, especially after paying someone else to do it for you, yet–

“Do I have to show you my face?” You ask quietly, already trying to find a lower-face-mask just to be safe in case you lose your composure and accidentally reveal yourself.

“No,” Sunghoon assures you through a deep breath. “I already told you what I want to see.”

More silence save for the shuffling he still hears on your end.

“Open your legs and turn it on.” He encourages you now, keeping his hand still on himself as he waits to see if you’ll actually do it.

And…

Oh fuck.

“There she is.” Sunghoon hums, trying to keep his composure at the way you give him access. Honestly, he didn’t think you would, but you do, and all he can do is lay himself back again, staring straight at the image of you.

Your face is out of frame much like he is but this is the first time he’s ever seen you with so little clothing on. No bra, thin tank top, no shorts or pants, just panties. It takes everything in him not to moan out at the image.

After all, it’s confirmed to be you.

Fuck, that’s you right there.

“Already so wet too?” Sunghoon groans now, focusing on that spot between your legs, probably so slippery and warm.

You’re very shy though, not moving much better yet speaking as this faceless man takes in your image. You feel awkward, but still turned on despite squeezing your legs together and hiding that spot from him.

“Oh, baby–” Sunghoon coos out in a way that makes it seem as though he was endeared by that. “That’s not going to work.”

You’re more focused on your embarrassment than you are on the way his cock leaks and pours pre-cum at the image he’s witnessing.

“How am I supposed to show you how much better I’d take care of you?” He continues, reverting back to the same role play from before. “I bet that boss of yours wouldn’t want to bury his tongue in you like I would.”

Your legs fall open at the words, and he can see the way you thrust up just slightly.

“That’s it, you need someone to touch you, don’t you?” He continues, watching you intensely. “Need someone to lick that pretty pussy?”

You nod, once again forgetting that he can’t see you do it before you finally speak.

“Please.”

His moan after hearing you seems far more intense than the first time you did this with him. In fact, he appears entirely focused on you. Role playing in some way but somehow acting more real than last time too.

“You deserve some love for all that hard work.” He says to you, encouraging you to keep talking for him. “Play with yourself, go on. You need it.”

You follow his instructions on instinct, as if your body truly does need the release.

“Feel it– not too hard, just graze over your panties.”

Ah, still you listen, holding your breath at each feather-light touch you give to yourself per his request.

And he watches. Hyper-focused on the way that darkened spot on your panties grows bigger and bigger. So wet for him doing exactly what he wishes he could do for you come tomorrow morning.

“Your other hand babe, slowly, lift your shirt and–”

He doesn’t even have to keep instructing you. You do exactly as he wanted, lifting your shirt gently before playing with your own nipples, still lightly grazing your fingers over your swollen clit that’s restricted by your panties.

You moan quietly at the feeling, wishing so much that it doesn’t have to be your hands doing this.

“That feels good, doesn’t it?” Sunghoon hums, now working his palm against his own length, gentle, barely grazing it. “Now, look at me.”

You draw your eyes forward, the image of him already arousing from before, but now? Why is he so much hotter now? As if the screen is nothing but a window into his bedroom.

“You see how hard I am right now?” You can hear the smile in his voice as you continue to work yourself up to near-sensitivity. “Never been this hard for anyone else.”

Oh, that’s bullshit. He does this as a job. He’s just sweet talking to you for sure.

“Been thinking about you since the first time you booked me.” He continues, keeping the touches light and making sure you don’t press on yourself too hard either. “Was hard all week for you.”

Okay, yeah, maybe you are a little too into praise. Lie or not, it’s exactly what you need to hear right now.

“You're gonna be just as good for me tonight too?” Sunghoon hums, tightening his grip. “You’re going to push your panties to the side and show me that you missed me too, right?”

Yes. The light touching has been nothing but torture at this point, wanting so badly to be told to do more. For yourself, for him.

You barely recognize how your embarrassment leaves your body when you stretch your panties to the side, letting him see how they stuck to you only to unfold in a glistening mess for him.

“Messy, messy, messy.” Sunghoon moans, struggling so hard by now not to fuck his fist straight to orgasm. But no, he can’t ruin this moment.

That’s your pussy, looking so wet and tight, so needy.

“Gently still, open up for me.” Sunghoon groans lowly, watching so closely the way you spread open your lips for him, the hole pulsing and dribbling so much slick.

Never in his life has he ever wanted to bury his tongue into someone this badly. Goddamn, he’s nearly obsessed with you at this moment. He loses composure.

“Fuck–” He seethes, feeling his cock twitch wildly against his hand. “I want you so bad.”

Those words feel more real to you than anything else. Virtual sex is one thing but to have a man blatantly moan those words to you as if he means them? As if he has never let it slip for any of his other scheduled calls?

“What’s the name of your boss again?” Sunghoon asks, pretending as if he forgot, just to hear you say it.

He notes the way your pussy clenches through his words too, as if he can see the confusion not through your expression, but through your arousal alone. Asking you that turned you off.

“What’s his name, baby?” Sunghoon presses, offering an excuse. “I wanna know who it is that gave me this tonight.”

Alluding to the fact that the only reason you’re paying him is because your boss made you feel like you need release in some way.

“Park-” You start, not wanting to deny his demands. “Sunghoon.”

“Ah, yeah.” Sunghoon holds his breath, closing his eyes briefly just to let that breathy voice sit in his mind before focusing back on you. “Two fingers babe, slide them in.”

God, you listen just as well as you do at work. He should have given you that promotion the day he saw your application. Even without seeing you do as you're told in this situation, he already knew you were going to be getting that interview next week.

He listens to the way your cunt swallows up your fingers, so wet and needy. Swollen around the two digits as you slide them in with a breathy sigh.

“Spread your fingers, open up.”

You do, presenting your opened core to him without any shame at this point. Allowing him to look, wanting him to look.

“Now, say–” Sunghoon swallows around a lump in his throat. “Thank you Sunghoon.”

Your pussy pulses around your fingers, recoiling again at the name.

“Say, Thank you Sunghoon, for all of this stress.”

He continues, trying to encourage, adding another lie of an excuse just to get you to break.

“Because, if it weren't for him, I wouldn’t be needing to take care of you like this, now would I?”

In your horny brain, it makes sense.

“Thank you, Sunghoon.” You moan, plunging your fingers into yourself without being told to do so, moaning out for the faceless man on the screen at your break in composure.

And, well, Sunghoon himself is on fire. After all, you’ve only ever referred to him as Mr.Park, and hearing you practically moan his name in such an intimate way? It does nothing to keep him from spiraling into an even more selfish mindset.

“Again.” He instructs you, watching the way your legs shake through saying his name.

“Thank you Sunghoon.” You continue, as if the words are natural despite feeling intense irritation for the man. “Thank you.”

And, well, that very name you’re moaning is now also moaning. That little fake name you gave to him falls from his lips after you say it each time, fucking into his fist and hoping you’re watching, nearly unable to ask you to stick another finger into yourself.

Not needing to ask at all, apparently, because you do it yourself. You even bump your clit up against your wrist too.

Shit.

He needs you.

“Thank him for what?” Sunghoon starts to ask, feeling an orgasm approach far too quickly.

“For making me come to you!” You answer him as if you’re frustrated, hips bouncing up against your hand just to dig your fingers in deeper.

“What else?” He asks now, forgetting what it is he should not be doing.

“Hmm?” You answer in a drawn-out moan.

“Thank him for what else?” He repeats first, only to follow up with his own answer. “For giving you a reason to cum.”

“Yes!” You groan, now grinding your hips up and against your palm without relaxing back against the bed. Intentionally chasing as your eyes remain on him, watching him pull and tug so roughly.

“So fucking pretty” Sunghoon praises as he snaps his hips in time with his moving palm, eyes so tuned into you that– “Fuck–” He moans your name. “So pretty.”

And he didn’t realize it. Half expecting you to moan back for him, he’s still moaning as he watches you halt what you’re doing and cover yourself entirely.

“What did you just call me?” You ask in an out of breath voice.

Sunghoon repeats your fake name to you, feeling the energy shift in an instant.

“No. You just called me–” You repeat your real name to him.

“Ah, sorry babe, must’ve gotten tongue tied.”

There’s a rush of anxiety within you as you stare at the screen. There’s….no fucking way.

Given, you’ve never seen him outside of a suit. The voice you hear doesn’t click in your head as Sunghoon’s either, considering he’s never a man of very many words.

Instantly, you’re covering your camera with your hand, watching how the man on the screen spreads his legs out and drops his cock. Like he’s waiting, like he’s listening, wondering. Are you making a fool of yourself right now?

Are you misreading?

He seems calm, and if it really is Sunghoon…surely he’d be disconnecting right now, right?

Why would he even be fucking himself on camera anyway? The guy makes bank! You’re the one who sees his paychecks, after all. Still, there’s a twisting in your gut as you ignore the way you still drip against your sheets.

Very quietly, just to see, you work up the courage.

“Mr.Park?”

It’s silent for a few seconds as the man on the screen shifts, a blur of movement forcing you into a state of motion-sickness.

You almost thought he was going to chuckle at you and ask if you were thinking about your boss rather than him. You almost thought he would use that to his advantage.

You almost thought you were wrong, but– he disconnects.

A few moments later, you receive an email with a refund of your five hundred dollars.

And two hours later? Lying in your bed with anxiety in your gut, you get a text from none other than Park Sunghoon.

Mr.Park: Can we talk?

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

― part two here!

#enhypen smut #park sunghoon smut #sunghoon smut #enha smut

3K notes · View notes

awrkive · 3 months

Text

NEIGHBOR BLUNDER, pt. 1 — JJK

in hindsight, you should have seen it coming. had always known your luck – or lack of it, thereof – and the universe's meticulous plan of your downfall made it easy for you to get tangled up in a series of unfortunate events, which presents itself as the neighbor that lives across from you, jeon jungkook.

PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader

GENRE r18+ (fluff, angst, (eventual) smut) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 18.2k

CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC neighbor!jk, bsf!jimin, accountant!oc software engineer!jk, jk and jimin are chaebols lol, minjoon boyfriends <<<<3 mature language, this chapter's pretty tame (for now) but theres a lot of FLIRTING, if u squint this story is a mosaic of every shows i love lmfao, for the apartment complex just imagine the namil villa from the kdrama fight for my way NB!JK VISUALS

NOTES hello im back!!!!! remember the jk in tech xmas fic i told you about last year? this is it except its not a xmas fic anymore lmfao. had an idea to make it a full blown story and im just sooo excited to share it with u guys on this platform!!!!! if ur from wattpad, the chapter system is gonna be a little different here but the content is not <3 anyway let me know what u guys think!

READ ON WATTPAD | AO3

PART ONE | TWO

You never settled your relationship with the summer season. To put it simply, it was a love and hate sort of thing; you liked that it was dry, and the air always felt like it was filtered and healthy even though you were well-aware of the current shit-state of the Earth's ozone layer. There were beams and sunlights and street vendors and people lying on the park's ground. Summer felt nostalgic, like the first time you bought a vinyl in highschool and listened to Fleetwood Mac in secret because your mom was certain they peddled cocaine and all sorts of illegal drugs, and with a highschool friend you no longer talk to, not because of a friendship-breaking betrayal but something more melancholic than that like drifting apart as you got older — the ambience, generally, was what you loved the most about it.

But regardless of those, summer got hot. Sure, you could forgo layers of clothing and it was always nice to lounge about in short bottoms and strapless tops and sandals, but at the end of the day, you needed to set your AC on the lowest temp, and it cranks up your monthly rent a greater percentage which causes a detrimental result to your monthly pay. (And you always had to reapply make-up every now and then whenever you went outside because if not, you'd be a sweating mess.)

In the grand scheme of things, though, there was nothing more than you disliked than Park Jimin, your best friend since college, asking you to be his plus-one on his mom's birthday dinner. For the second time.

“I told you, Jimin, I’m not doing that anymore. Your mom called me fat and recommended a bunch of expensive skin care products to treat one single zit on the side of my forehead the last time you brought me there. I hid that with my bangs and she still saw it, like what the hell? The baked lasagna might have tasted good but I’m not stepping one foot in your house ever again.” You spat out, rolling your eyes at your friend who just dramatically flopped himself on your bed.

“Okay, so I’m really sorry about my mom. She’s a…” He trailed off, looking at you with meaningful eyes that weighed words you knew he couldn't exactly say without feeling bad, and you sighed. Nodded in understanding. Jimin’s face contorted into a cringed expression at that. “... yeah. But! Please. I swear! This is the last time. I just really need you to be there. They’re setting me up with Heesu, okay? You know that snotty nepo baby of the Kang clan who owns Kang Tech?”

“Jimin, you’re a nepo baby.”

He hit you with a pillow. “I am but I can earn a hundred thousand won without my family’s money. They can cut my credit cards and I'll still be thriving.”

You broke the serious demeanor and laughed loudly at his seemingly confident claim.

“I’m sorry but you could not even get a job at a burger joint without some nepotism let alone have a hundred thousand without your dad’s credit cards. Bitch, you’re just lying.”

“Fuck you. I was employee of the week at Seventh Street Burger.” He backfired, referring to that point in time in your sophomore year where you picked up a part time job during the summer at a burger joint and Jimin just decided to come along randomly. He got it because the owner knew of his dad.

“Yeah, because Sowon had a crush on you?” You said, remembering the owner’s daughter, who was also helping out at the store at that time. She was so smitten by Jimin you almost felt bad for her.

“Okay, fair, point taken. No need to be such a bitch about it,” Your best friend said with a dismissive wave of his hand, telling he was over it. You only laughed at that, boisterously, might you add, just to piss him off for no reason. Jimin deadpanned. “But seriously. I think they’re planning to marry me off to Heesu.”

Your face fell out of genuine concern this time.

“Oh my god, really?”

Jimin once again cringed visibly. “Yeah. I mean from a business lense it makes sense. But me marrying at 33? That makes me – like – a child groom.”

“Oh… yeah…” you trailed off, sympathizing with him. Not that you've ever been in the situation where your parents forced you in a sham marriage for their own wealth because there was no wealth to begin with. But you felt bad for Jimin. You always have, when it came to this particular subject.

You knew how it was with rich people, having known Jimin for almost half your life. It was true that arranged marriages were still a thing, and while Jimin seemed that he could pretty much do everything he wanted because of his free-spirited nature, his parents could still most likely make him marry someone he barely knew. Solely for business.

“Ugh.” Jimin groaned. “Should I just come out at the dinner so they can stop linking me to women? I’m gay as fuck, man. My cousin Park Youngdam would have a field day given that homophobic fucktard has been calling me the f word ever since he learned it in seventh grade.”

You shook your head, visibly cringing at his words. You didn't have family yourself. It was your mom who raised you alone for all your life, until she died five years ago. Didn't know any extended family. But frankly, you thought it was better that way than to deal with a complicated family like Jimin's.

“Nah. I mean if you’re ready, well, do it. But like, your parents are…” You two shared a look together again, and Jimin just slapped his palms over his face, indicating his doom. Your face twisted with another shot of deeper sympathy for him.

“This is it for me. They’ll marry me off to Kang Heesu and we’ll fly to the US and live in Massachusetts to fulfill her white picket fence fantasy. I’ll be a miserable husband and she'll be an even more miserable wife because she’ll eventually find out I’m gay. The neighbors will start talking and the white republicans will shun me out of the town church. We’ll have a surrogate baby and—”

“Jimin, what the fuck!” You hit him hard on his arm as you couldn't keep a straight face anymore at his dramatic monologue. “You’re not gonna marry Heesu and you won't live in fuckass Massachusetts and no one’s gonna shun you out of the town church and you won't have a surrogate baby.”

“It’s a possibility.” Jimin shrugged.

“I feel like you're guilt-tripping me into agreeing to be your date again at your mom's birthday dinner and I think that's very evil of you.” You said, squinting your eyes at him.

“Well, duh? But also, I’m really kind of lowkey highkey scared they’ll marry me off to someone now that I’m pushing forty.”

"You're quite literally seven years away from forty." You countered.

He looked at you with an expression of I know right! And he told you so.

"That's what I said to mom and dad, but they're acting like my sperm will freeze next year. God, I can't stand them!"

Jimin, for all his jokes and unserious and bitchy behavior, was someone extremely important to you. Yeah, sure, he was rich as hell and he annoys you when he says something that reeks of too much nepotism but he was never intentionally snotty, never thinks he was better than everyone else (Jokes about how he thinks he has the fattest and juiciest ass in the world, though), and he wasn't at all like the rich people you've had the misfortune of interacting with at his mom's birthday party last year. He might be a self-proclaimed bitch but if you put him together with those people, he might as well be one of God's disciples.

For all his crass language and rather strong personality, Jimin was a doting friend who was there for you every single time. You could call him up at 3 am and he’d be at your door bringing Chinese take out and two tubs of ice cream, ready to hear you vent about your stupid job or a guy that you fumbled by being weird and off-putting because you didn't know how to handle a relationship. He was the kind of friend who would defend you in front of anyone else but will mercilessly tell you off and list down all points of your stupidity once you were in closed doors. He was the kind of friend that would ask you to be his pretend partner at a birthday dinner party, but he was your best friend ultimately and even if you had a big problem with his family and their extremely traditional (read: toxic) ways, you didn't want him to be pressured into coming out just so he could avoid to be engaged off to another random heiress. Didn't want him to do something he wasn't ready for. Didn't want him hurt or anything of the sort.

The last dinner wasn't even that bad, if you were to be honest. His parents were shitty, yeah sure, and the other guys in there that consisted of politicians and businessmen and people in the showbiz industry were something taken out of the toilet bowl for how stinky their elitist, better-than-you personalities were, but you both just totally forgot all about it by getting wasted at the local bar right after leaving. Not that his mom’s words didn't sting a bit or didn't make you a little conscious, but at the end of the day, you weren't actually dating Jimin so you didn't care what his parents thought of you.

Additionally, you didn't have something planned for the next two weeks when the birthday would be happening. You were supposed to, but that ship has long sailed when you fumbled a date with the guy at the IT department. For the record, you didn't really like him that much and he talked too much about his job and while you didn't mind that, it was getting a little too tiring. If you wanted IT lessons you would’ve majored in it in college. Still, Shin Taemu was handsome. And he wore those rounded glasses. Was tall. Had nice arms. Too bad he wanted to be the next Mark Zuckerberg. Fuck that guy.

“Ugh, I don't know,” you groaned. “It's just so disgusting to be your girlfriend, okay?”

Jimin audibly gasped. “How dare you? A lot would jump on this ass.” He said with incredulity seeping through his voice, pointing to his bum.

You rolled your eyes. “Not me, obviously. Before you take offense—”

“Offense taken.”

“—it’s just that you're like my cousin and when you call me honey I want to crawl out of my own skin.”

Jimin laughed at that while you looked miserable, remembering those moments from last year. Seriously, how could you have fooled anyone in that party that you were banging? You swore you looked like Ariana Grande and Troye Sivan in that one music video? (Jimin was the one who showed that meme to you, by the way.)

“So I won't call you honey. Just babe.”

“Ew.” You quickly retaliated.

“Ohh, the homophobia is sho-wing.” Jimin sing-sang, ever the mature individual he was.

“Fuck off, seriously.”

Jimin just giggled and then scooted closer to you. “No but like, are you coming? ‘Cause jokes aside, I'm just gonna find someone else if you really don't wanna do it. But you know you're always my first choice.”

“First choice when you do some stupid shit.” you countered, rolling your eyes for the nth time that night. Jimin would be the cause of your eye surgery if ever they got dislocated or something.

“That’s my biggest act of love.”

“I don't want it.”

“I’ll double what I paid you last year.”

“Double it again and give it to the next person?”

Jimin flipped you off. “I’ll give you my nintendo and I’ll get you a card at that coffee shop you love so much.”

That caught your attention. You raised your brow. “On god?”

“When did I ever lie to you?”

You deadpanned. “We won't finish this conversation if I list all the times—”

“Okay, okay, point taken. But I'm really serious. Please, please, please, please be my pretend girlfriend on my mom's birthday party please, please—”

“Shut up. Ugh,” you could already feel the big smile creeping up Jimin’s face when you let out a big sigh. “Okay, I’ll do it. Buy me boba now.”

Jimin tackled you to the bed and hugged you and kissed your forehead.

“Thank you! Best best friend ever.” he delightfully said, grinning widely, eyes almost disappearing in his triumph.

Your face contorted into a disgusted expression while Jimin just laughed as you pushed him so hard he almost fell off the bed.

“You are a disgusting limpy sack of dicks! Also, I’m not your best best friend, you don't have a wide selection. I'm your best friend. Period.”

“Unfortunately.” He waved you off and when you were about to retort something his phone suddenly rang. You watched quietly as he put it over his ear. “Hey, you just landed?”

If it was a private conversation Jimin would've left the room but since he didn't, you decided to stay in bed, kind of listening in to the conversation, but also not, as you turned the volume down of the show you were watching earlier on your laptop.

“Nah, you want me to pick you up?” Jimin sat up on the edge of the bed and you looked at him curiously. “Sure, I’m free, Kook. You have a place to stay? Hotel suite or something?” He nodded to whatever the other person was saying on the other line. “Oh, you're here for three months? Thought you were just flying in for mom's birthday?”

It was moments after they said goodbye that Jimin turned to you to ask, “Well, my cousin’s apparently staying here for three months. Got this job thing going on.”

“Is that one of the non-problematic twenty percent cousin lineage of your very complicated family tree?" You asked, referring to him telling you one time that his family, including the extended ones, was eighty percent shitty and twenty percent decent.

Jimin chuckled at the inside joke. "Well, yeah, he's one of the good ones. Knows I'm gay."

"Oh, nice."

Jimin stood up from your bed. “I’ll get you your boba and head off. Gotta pick cousin up or he’ll start throwing tantrums at the airport.”

“Add extra pearls please.” You told him, watching as he clicked away on his phone to get you your drink.

“I spoil you too much.” Jimin said, clicking his tongue, eyes still on his phone.

“What are you here for if not my glorified sugar daddy?”

“I will kill myself in front of you.” Jimin deadpanned, getting a chuckle out of you.

You didn't know the psychology — or if there even was psychology — behind feeling embarrassed when you were about to cross a path while carrying huge boxes. It was a normal task, and yet, it always felt like a huge walk of shame when you did it.

It was probably because you had to carry it over a flight of stairs, and there was no way you wouldn't trip on yourself carrying two heavy boxes in your hands that were already disrupting your vision.

Maybe it was your fault for choosing the pick-up option when you were checking out these furniture online, all because there was a huge increase on the fee for door-to-door delivery. For the record, there was a huge gap and the boxes were not really that heavy to the point you could not carry them both. It's just a lamp and a portable desk, you thought a week ago when you opted for the pick-up option, I could carry it all the way to the unit just fine — and obviously, your delusion has resulted to this very moment.

As soon as you managed to walk over five steps, you felt as if your oxygen supply just got cut back, panting like someone fresh from a marathon. Damn. You definitely needed to work out a little. Maybe do some squats for your New Year’s resolution, commit to it for three days straight then forget about it for the next 362 days of the year.

You looked ahead of you and a string of curses let themselves out of your mouth automatically as you estimated the number of stairs you needed to get through to get to your apartment.

This day sucked! It was Sunday and you planned to wake up at five am to have a productive day but then you slept through your five alarms and woke up at eleven am instead. You ran out of eggs and you had to go to the convenience store to eat a sad meal of yogurt and kimbap. And now there were these boxes that you needed to carry over what seemed to look like six million of stairs. You weren't Sisyphus! And where were your goddamn neighbors when you needed them?

"You need help, ma'am?"

"Jesus Christ—" you turned to look to your right only to see a man who seemed to own the previous voice.

And Jesus Christ, indeed.

He was wearing a white shirt and some shorts, Nike sliders on his feet and a pair of headphones on. He was wearing glasses. And he had a tattoo sleeve.

What the fuck.

What the fuck!

It has been so long since you thought a man was crazily attractive. Okay, well sure, the guys from the IT department were something else (or you just had a weird eyeglasses fetish, Jimin once pointed out, that you still — to this day — vehemently try to deny) but you’ve never been this taken aback by someone’s face before.

The guy’s lips tilted a bit, some sort of greeting maybe, and you quickly looked away, embarrassed, fearing that he caught you looking at him longer than necessary.

Oh god. This was pathetic! He was a stranger! He was a man! He just had a cute face attached to a very good body with an arm full of tattoos and he was tall but you were sure he wasn’t six feet two. Also, he had hair that looked fluffy from where you stood and a pair of eyeglasses but Jimin was just bluffing when he said you had a fetish for them. Right?

You were performing mental gymnastics until you realized he was asking a question.

"Oh! Uh, no, thank you. It's fine." You said, embarrassed at the way you almost jumped in surprise earlier.

But the whole thing was ridiculous. What, because there was a very fine man across from you the universe suddenly decided to fuck up your fate by making you be seen by that very man struggling with boxes all the way up to your unit? Couldn't it just have been on a day when you did your make-up and dressed up in that overpriced dress you bought hundred bad choices ago?

You fumbled with the boxes a little bit before continuing your way up, nevermind the guy whose response you didn't wait for because you needed to get the fuck away from him before you say something weird and off-putting.

Truthfully, you could use the help. But at what cost? A fine man carrying them? Okay, that wasn’t so bad. But what were you supposed to do with... all of that?

As if the universe was indeed trying to prove to you that you were, in fact, not its favorite creation, you almost tripped. And the guy most definitely saw it.

Fuck.

You turned to the side to see him looking at you, concern etching his face. You wanted to convince yourself that it was genuine concern because you'd commit something that would totally change the trajectory of his life if he was to laugh.

But you thought his own unit must be way up as well, as he was going to the same path as you, and if that was the case, he must have been a new neighbor in the complex because you've never seen the man before.

“Well, it’s not that heavy but…” you trailed off, looking blankly at the cardboard boxes. And then at him. "I could use some help, if you don't mind."

The guy just chuckled. Oh wow, his laugh was very... low.

You didn’t even know what the fuck that meant.

“I’ll get them for you.” He said, crossing the small distance between you and taking over the pile, leaving you with nothing in your hands.

“Oh, no, I’ll have that one. It’s fine.” You said, stepping closer to take the other one but he was already securing it in his hold, with stability this time, ready to take off.

He let out a small laugh again and you bit your tongue to not think about how cute he looked. If he was a new tenant, you hoped you didn't cross paths with him ever again.

"It's okay, ma'am."

He's got to stop calling you that before you do something drastic.

“It’s quite far from here, I'm all the way up to three-three-six.” You uttered, pointing forward, a few steps behind the guy, who hummed at what you said.

You quickly caught up to him. "Really, thanks for doing this."

"No problem, it's nothing." He said, smiling at you. Warm and kind. All cute. "I'm all the way up to four-four-six as well."

Your eyes widened. "No way, that's just across mine."

The stranger, apparently your neighbor now, grinned.

"Nice coincidence, huh?"

A sheepish smile formed on your lips. You didn't dwell on that comment too much. Knew it was just small talk.

"If you don't mind me asking, are you a new tenant here?” You asked out of genuine curiosity. You had never seen someone come out of the unit across from you out of all the four years you'd been here.

He nodded, agreeing with what you presumed.

"Yeah. Just temporary, though.”

“Oh…” A surprised sound. Maybe it was a good thing he was only staying temporarily... “I hope I didn’t inconvenience you or anything. You really don’t need to bring the boxes over to my apartment.”

The man just chuckled, dismissing your worry. “You looked like you could use a hand, these boxes are big. Anyway, I was just out checking 'round town. Settling in.”

From the sound of it, you'd assume he was not only moving in in a new apartment complex, but new city as well. Perhaps country? But he most definitely looked Korean. But maybe he came from abroad. Who knows.

“Yeah, there's a really nice coffee shop three blocks away. You should check it out sometime. Ji—my friend and I are obsessed with their iced caramel macchiato. And the boba.”

His brows furrowed in pure interest. “That must've been the one I passed by this morning. I’ll make sure to try that one.”

“You really should. And the barista gives you a brownie on Sundays if he likes you.” You shared like it was gossip, mentally taking note to visit the cafe sometime this week.

“And I'm sure not everybody gets the privilege?” The guy looked at you funny, and that made you laugh.

"Of course, yes! You have to earn it, I think. I feel like I spent over a million there before he started giving me brownies."

"Hope my charm works on him as well," he said, and it caught you off guard.

What did he mean, "as well"? Like he was speaking from the basis that you had charm and so he hoped he had it as well to get the barista to like him?

"Well. He's strict." Was all you could say, before you spotted your apartment. "Hey, I'll take it over from here."

The guy looked over the plated number on the door, reading three-three-six just as you said earlier. Trudging forward, he set the boxes down on the side of the porch.

"Thank you, really. This was really nice of you."

You extended your gratitude once again as if you didn't spend the walk up to here thanking him non-stop, sounding like a broken record. Thank god the guy didn't seem to mind your over-the-top gratitude, only waving his hand.

"Told you, it's fine. You need help with a few boxes again and just ring me up across," He joked, turning around slightly and looking at the door across your unit, Unit 446. It earned a chuckle from you. His face turned serious now, but there was still a charming smile on his face. “Hey. I’m actually pretty new in this town. I was thinking about visiting a few restaurants downtown, maybe you could recommend me some?”

You didn't mean to, but you took note the way his doe eyes seemed to shimmer even behind the frame of his glasses.

“My favorites are just, like, a ten-minute walk away. There’s this restobar near that drugstore when you turn left from this building, right?” The guy nodded, and you were slightly delighted he knew right away. “Yeah, their ramen's great, you'd thank me forever.”

He chuckled at the way you said it and you smiled.

Your interactions with new people were always a range from pure silence to oversharing; talking to them like they were your long lost friend whom you’ve milked goats with in your father’s orchard. It was probably just a product of introversion; not knowing the right approach to socializing.

“Thanks for the recommendation.” He said, a genuine appreciative tone lacing his words.

“You’re welcome. If I can ring you up to help me with some boxes, you can ring me up for some restaurant recommendation.”

"It's an exchange, then. Deal."

"Why not?" You shrugged, laughing along with him when he did so.

You both stood there for a while until seconds passed. You didn’t know exactly how to end the conversation, not that you wanted to, but there was nothing that went to your head to talk about more. And besides, he was probably headed somewhere, so you began to speak.

“Hey, so I’m going in—”

“What about we—”

“Oh.” You stopped. “Sorry, what was that?”

The guy just shook his head. “Nah, you’re probably busy. Thanks for the recommendation again.”

“No, seriously, sorry I didn't hear it the first time...”

“I was just gonna ask about the name of the restaurant.”

“It’s Midday Miso.” You told him, smiling.

“Midday Miso,” The guy nodded, “Yeah. Got it. Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome, and, uh, thanks. For the help.”

You took your keys out from your shorts and you didn’t expect to still see him standing in front of you when you turned around. You jokingly squinted your eyes at him.

“Yeah, you first, get in.” He said with a low chuckle.

It was a little embarrassing and pretty stupid how your heart fluttered a bit at that.

“What a gentleman you are,” You respond with a snort, opening the door to your unit and pushing the boxes inside your apartment. When they were in, you turned to look at the guy again, saying, “Okay, bye for real. See you around. Hope you like Midday Miso if you try it. And the coffee shop. It's called Brown Coffee.”

“See you around.” He did a little wave that made you both laugh before you closed the door.

When the lock system clicked, you stood on your doorway for a little while.

And then fake-cried.

You quickly clicked on Jimin's pinned contact on your phone.

You [5:35pm]: JIMINNNNNNNNN You [5:35pm]: POP EMERGENCY You [5:35pm]: POP EMERGENCY BITCH IF U DONT RESPOND You [5:36pm]: I HAVE A DIABOLICAL CRUSH AND ITS GOING IN THE MEMOIRRRRRR

It wasn’t even one full minute when Jimin replied.

cuntress #1 [5:37pm]: oh my god SHUT UP!!! im at a training program for ghis stupid ass company my fathers been running fir 600 years cuntress #1 [5:37pm]: whats up cuntress #1 [5:38pm]: its always a crush and never a job 😒

You [5:39pm]: yeh so remember when i told u im oacking up my vagina last summer

cuntress #1 [5:39pm]: many such times

You [5:40pm]: 🖕 You [5:40pm]: SO raincheck!!! You [5:41pm]: COZ I just met a fine man at my apartment AND flirted with him You [5:41pm]: i think

cuntress #1 [5:42pm]: ohhhhh OK???? cuntress #1 [5:43pm]: cuntress #2 flirting???? now thats not uninteresting go on while i fake a restroom break 👀

You [5:45pm]: this story is not for the imessages baby get ur ass up and ICE CREAM WITH ME NOW.

cuntress #1 [5:46pm]: omg 😭😭😭😭 cuntress #1 [5:46pm]: i’ll be off 7:30pm wait for me 😭😭😭 cuntress #1 [5:47pm]: i also have #stories to tell

You [5:49pm]: 🤭

There must be a time where you finally grow up and learn to cook.

You were a twenty-eight-year-old woman and yet, your meals sadly ranged from instant noodles, canned goods, and food from the nearby twenty-four-hour provision shop. Sometimes, you had the gall to cook something from scratch—but with scratch you meant scratching off the labels from food take-outs and reheating them in your microwave.

Jimin had told you one time you would die at twenty-nine with your lifestyle. You told him he couldn't tell you shit because he didn't know how to cook either, he just worked out and ate healthy stuff, and you did, too! But Jimin knew you, and in an evil manner, clocked you with, "Buying fresh produce and not consuming them does not count as healthy living."

Anyway, you never understood why you were so bad at cooking. Your mother, as you remembered her, was decent at it but you guessed it was because she never really taught you and you never really bothered, either. In some immature way of thinking, you'd like to think it was a win for feminism as you were battling patriarchal standards by not conforming to stereotypical "female" qualities. But deep inside, you knew cooking should be a survival skill.

Well, maybe Jimin was right and you would indeed die at the ripe age of twenty-nine. On the bright side, at least you wouldn't have to pay off your student loans and your monthly rent.

In relation, not knowing how to cook meant impractical visits to the restaurant, and that was how you ended up at Midday Miso for dinner after your shift.

It was only a little over seven pm when you entered the restaurant, the ahjumma quickly greeting you and preparing your usual, a sign of familiarity that implied your countless visits ever since moving in at your current apartment building.

Regular visits meant usual sitting spot, and in your case, it was the high stools that faced the glass walls of the restaurant's facade where you could see the busy street making that little area of the town alive.

As minutes overlapped with one another, your food was served and you were hit with the waft of the restaurant's delightful signature beef ramen and bibimbap that the ahjumma made sure to add extra beef on.

Eating with a happy heart made you feel like nothing in the world mattered but you and the food before you, so, you didn't pay attention to the person who was coming to your direction and eventually sat beside you, but what caught you off guard was when said person suddenly said,

"Hi."

When you turned to the side to see who it was, your eyes widened as you said in both recognition and surprise, "Unit 446?"

"That's me." He, Unit 446—in the flesh—said with a low chuckle, twisting himself so that he was sat appropriately on the high stool. Still, his body leaned towards you when he continued to say, "Fancy seeing you here."

You grinned, flattered at the casualness of his approach.

"Same to you. I wonder who told you about this local gem."

He pursed his lips. "A nice neighbor across my place... whom I still don't know the name of."

"Oh, shoot!" You'd face-palm right now if he wasn't looking, but truthfully, you didn't even think about that! You've just been referring to him as the Staircase Guy slash Neighbor 446 in your head and when you told Jimin about him. You laughed at the thought. "That neighbor of yours is __."

Neighbor 446 nodded and extended his hand to you

"I'm Jungkook."

It was a little silly but you shook hands, anyway, and knowing it was, indeed, silly, you both laughed together at your joint connection.

Jungkook. Huh. Not exactly a common Korean name, but it wasn't rare either. The name does ring a bell though, felt like you've heard it somewhere before.

You brushed off the familiarity as inconsequential.

Unlike the completely casual attire he adorned the first time that you met him, he was now in some sleek slacks and a white polo which sleeves were ridden up half high, which exposed the vines of ink on his right arm once again. There's a coat that hung around the back of his chair, and he had forgone the glasses this time around, which was a bit of a shame on the part of your brain that might have a silly crush on him.

Jungkook's clothes seemed to mirror your own business casual ensemble, and that made you think about what he possibly did for a living. Maybe he worked a corporate job just like you, and the prospect might have made you down a little—only because as far as you were concerned, corporate people weren't the most pleasant people you could encounter—but it was not something you dwelled on too much because you couldn't care less. If Jungkook was corporate, he sure didn't seem to be one the way he was.

Besides, you wouldn't be the one to bring up the depressing and aggravating conversation about gross grown-up things like... jobs... Eurgh. You both could just talk about the weather or how insane the ahjumma's ramen tasted for eternity.

"Well, hello, Jungkook." You greeted him. All warm and soft, testing the syllables of his name on your tongue. Rolled off well enough. He had a nice name that sure fit his face for some reason.

"Hi, __." He mirrored the soft smile on your lips, and just as he said it, the ahjumma was heading towards your direction to give him his order.

In that usual way grandmas reacted, the ahjumma gasped audibly—and dramatically, might you add—upon seeing Jungkook, but what she said next made you want to dig a hole under your seat.

"__-dear! Is this young man your boyfriend?"

Good thing you weren't consuming anything as of that moment, because it would've entered the wrong track.

"Ahjumma!" You laughed, totally not authentic at all because your face didn't match it, looking at Jungkook who just sent a shy smile her way.

Ahjumma must have seen you both talking to each other and had completely jumped to a conclusion. An insane one at that!

Shaking your head, you clarified, "This is Jungkook. A friend. He's new in town and checking out all the stuff around here. I recommended him this place."

You saw Jungkook nodding along with your words while he helped her set his table.

The ahjumma just shook her head. "I apologize, then," She looked at Jungkook and as if gossiping with him, whispered in a not very subtle way, "I keep on telling this girl to date already! Such young beauty shouldn't be wasted, you know."

A tsk-ing sound made its way through her mouth, and as much as you were starting to feel embarrassed that she was telling on you on Jungkook—who was literally a stranger to you a day ago and whom you may have a teeny tiny bit of crush on—you knew ahjumma did not have any malicious intent and just chose to laugh the whole thing off.

You heard Jungkook do the same.

This was ridiculous.

"Ahjumma, I told you, you're gonna be the first one to know when I date. For now I'm just a part-time accountant and a full-time promoter of Midday Miso." You pout at her, trying to dodge the topic of romance altogether.

Not in front of Jungkook.

"Ayee," She gave you a side-eye. "Fine. I'll bring over some extra beef."

You mouthed an enthusiastic "yes!" and raised your fist in the air with excitement, and Jungkook looked at the interaction with a smile on his face.

As the ahjumma walked away, you looked over at him.

"I'm glad you came by—" You identified his order to be the same one you used to be obsessed with the first few months you came to the restaurant. "—and ordered their best seller. You sure know how to be a tourist."

"Looked good on the menu. The ahjumma also seems to be nice. Seems like she's a close friend, huh?" Jungkook said.

"Totally."

And it was the truth. There was just something about ahjumma that made you feel reminiscent about the grandmother you've never had. Ever since you moved in and became a regular at this place, it felt like she's taken care of you and your relationship had been special since.

"This is really good." Jungkook commented after having his second bite, and you nodded in agreement. "She was serious about the beef thing?"

You chuckled at the mention. "Yeah, she always gives me extra."

"You just always get free stuff around these areas?" Jungkook joked which earned a hearty laugh from you. You remembered telling him about the free brownie on Sundays at Brown Coffee, a little bit surprised he recalled that.

"Now that you said that, I actually do." You proudly shared. You've been in this town for so long that the various faces just went from familiar to friends.

Jungkook nodded, his face showing amusement.

"I have to learn your ways, then."

"The secret to that is be incompetent at cooking. It means it's either take-out or eat out. Business owners around here have no choice but to see me every three days because I can't cook my own meal."

You could see Jungkook's amusement growing every second, and to add faux insult to injury, he joked, "Oh, bummer."

You decided to ride along with that.

"You mean you're a good cook? That's the real bummer! And here I thought we were bonding." You said, purposefully trying to sound scandalous at his implication of being a good cook.

He shook his head instantly, chuckling. "Okay, nah. I'm not that good. Just decent. But I'll have you know I can make a mean tangsuyuk. Any other complicated stuff is out the window, so there, we are bonding."

"I appreciate that you're under the assumption that I know where to begin with the non-complicated stuff. You're already putting way too much faith in me."

"I seriously doubt that." Jungkook laughed once again.

"You know what my friend tells me? That I'd die at twenty-nine because I don't know how to cook."

Jungkook almost keeled over hearing you say the words, and as much as you were amused at his own amusement, you decided to further add on the joke because you were enjoying this way too much.

"Wow. I wouldn't doubt you'd be an accessory to my murder the way you're laughing way too hard at my impending death. That's next year, you know."

Jungkook reached over for the glass of water and drank it. While he did so, the ahjumma had come over to give you the beef she promised. You did not forgot to thank her as soon as she went away.

You did hope Jungkook didn't notice the malicious wink she sent your way.

"Fuck, sorry." Jungkook's laughter had gone down this time, but his eyes still showed a hint of mirth when he asked, "You're twenty-eight, then?"

You nodded. "Yep." Unfortunately, you thought.

"Oh, that's actually surprising."

A gasp left your mouth. Jungkook was quick to correct himself.

"I meant it's surprising because I thought you were way younger."

Oh.

"Don't flatter me. I won't share my extra beef with you."

"I thought—" He shrugged. "—Early twenties."

"I'm guessing you are in your early twenties." You joked back.

"Okay, now, don't flatter me. I know how old I look." Jungkook said with a dismissive tone, but nevertheless light-hearted. Just like how this whole thing was going.

God, you were so in awe of how good he was at talking to you that he was practically bringing out the extrovert in you you only ever show to exclusive people like Jimin.

"So, you're like, fifty, then?"

Incredulous, Jungkook burst into laughter. "Wow."

"Sorry, just that you sounded like you were five years from retirement! Anyway, you look like we're the same age?"

He shook his head. "Three years older. Turning thirty-one later this year."

Jaw dropped. Not physically, but mentally.

"Oh wow, you're basically—" a fucking DILF! What the hell!

Thankfully you managed to cut yourself off before Jungkook could think you were way off your rocks and embarrass yourself in front of him for eternity. You could just hear Jimin from miles away telling you off about calling thirty-year-old men DILFs even though you didn't know if they had a child.

What do you mean this guy was thirty and why did that just make him even hotter in your head... He's got to stop this madness before you do something completely incomprehensible.

"—A senior." Was the lame thing you came up with to finish your sentence.

"Ouch." Jungkook said, but his word was completely opposite to the expression he was wearing on his face the way he just couldn't suppress the grin that had been visible on his mouth since you started talking.

You brought your hands up.

"Totally didn't mean that in a negative way."

Which was the entire truth. So far, the things you knew about him was that he had tattoos, a nice body, a nice personality, good ass freaking conversationalist, and that he was thirty! Thirty! As in, the peak of male hotness. The evil psychological concept of most men only getting hotter as they age.

"I'm sure, I'm sure," Jungkok nodded. "By the way, are you heading out after this?"

"Oh, yeah. Don't have anywhere else to go. I have a nine A.M tomorrow so..." you shrugged, and he nodded in understanding.

"You work as an accountant, right, from what you told the ahjumma?" Jungkook asked you curiously.

"Yeah... it's a very tedious job." You grimaced a little bit. "What about you?"

He tilted his head a bit, picking up a dumpling on his plate. "I'm a software engineer."

"Oh, that's cool."

You nodded to yourself while you processed what he said.

Works in fucking tech; another thing you just learned about him.

You weren't actively seeking out guys in tech, but why did they seem to come to you voluntarily? God forbid you saw someone who wasn't in there! Was every man working in tech now? Was Jimin really only being truthful when he said they were exactly your type?

"Have you made any software or is that, like, a wrong assumption about you guys?"

Jungkook merely chuckled at your retort.

"Not entirely, no. I've designed a few software in college—I'm still doing it. I'm just currently doing more business stuff now." He gave you a sheepish smile. "You?"

"Well, it's just... you know—I actually work at a tech company. I'm a junior accountant. And, uh, nothing interesting, really. You get to do cool math like programming, and I get to do boring math like calculating money I don't have. It's always a great day at work." You said, couldn't help the laugh that skipped your mouth at your own sarcasm.

Nothing like joking about hating your job to someone who you just met yesterday.

"Programming and coding are not all that, either. It's tedious and... it's just a really boring job. But... it all pays the bills."

You chuckled.

"Yeah. Totally."

Without minding it, you raised the small glass of soju, initiating a toast, one that Jungkook understood immediately and met you in the middle of it.

The night was still you when you walked out of Midday Miso, but unlike any other nights, it was with Jungkook this time walking beside you.

"So you just—what—hid him for three months?"

"Well, yes! I wasn't about to get a notice for that! And besides, he was really cute. But he's in good hands now, his owner still sends me pictures of him. He's very grown and big."

"That's insane."

You peered at Jungkook who watched you in awe as you told him about the story of Alfredo, the cat whom you rescued on your way home from work a year ago. The landlady obviously had her fair share of rules and regulations in her building, and keeping pets was an absolute no, which was a shame. Definitely wasn't a shame when you first just moved in the complex, but things got lonely sometimes when you were living alone and company was almost a luxury.

Anyway, as told, you managed to keep Alfredo out of the landlady's sight until you found a highly qualified parent on some online forum who you still kept in contact with to this day.

But as you watched Jungkook, you noticed the way his expression fell into something concerning. He looked worried, which made you feel the same way as a result.

"What are you thinking?" You asked him curiously.

"Oh, nah, I was just... thinking. See, I actually have a dog."

"Oh!" You looked at him wide-eyed.

He has a dog; another thing about Jungkook that would qualify him on the regular rounds of hot boy of the month on Twitter dot com.

"Yeah."

"You didn't read the terms and conditions of the building?" Your eyebrows formed a concerned expression.

Jungkook chuckled and shook his head. "I did. I just—suddenly thought about him, is all. He's being taken care of some place. But, you know, I missed him, and I was thinking about getting him here and showing him around my new place and all that."

"Oh... that's a bummer, then. The landlady's strict, even with the small dogs, can you imagine? Is he small, by the way, your dog?

"He's a Doberman, so definitely a big one."

"He must be really cute. What's his name?"

"Bam." He smiled at you, and you could totally see the pride showing on his face at the mention of his dog. And with a tone that you could only identify as someone who's suppressing his enthusiasm a little bit, he added, "You wanna see a picture of him?"

"Sure!"

Jungkook took out his phone from his pocket and showed you images of a big, chocolate brown dog. Bam definitely wasn't like the other regular Dobermans you'd see around. His ears weren't cropped, and his tail wasn't docked either. You didn't know if the lack of surgery was intentional from his side, but you'd like to think he kept it that way because he knew it hurt the dog greatly. From how you've been knowing him, you were certain he just didn't want to put his dog under unnecessary pain, which was honestly heartwarming to think about.

Jungkook was becoming way too good to be true in you head little by little.

"Awe, he's adorable!" You cooed, especially when he swiped through the picture of his pet, Bam, as a pup in what seemed to be Jungkook's arms based on the familiar tattoos that peeked from the exposed arm as seen on the picture. The tattoos also seemed to be new at that time as well, considering that the skin was still yet to be fully covered like now.

"I'm flattered you think that."

"Where is he, by the way? If you don't mind me asking."

"He's at a... friend's place in New York. He's not very good at flying so I didn't bring him with me here, and I thought, I'll only be here for three months, anyway, so." Jungkook shrugged.

Three months. Well. He did say he was only staying here temporarily.

You nodded. "For business, right?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"You grew up there?" You kicked the stone that was caught at the tip of your shoe, putting your fists in the deeper part of your coat's pockets. Summer may be hot during daytime, but it sure as hell was cold on nights like these.

"Nah, I'm from Busan. Flew to California for college and have been there since. Until now, that is."

Jimin was also from Busan, you thought. Though he said they only lived there for a few years until his parents moved to Seoul, but he made sure to visit his hometown every now and then. Most of the time, he made you come with him which you never had complaints about. You lived in the city all your life so going there, especially in the more urbanized area where you and Jimin stayed. Felt like fresh air—which Busan had, quite literally.

"My best friend's from Busan too."

"Really? What about you?"

You chuckled before answering, "I, unfortunately, did not come from any interesting place. Born and raised in Seoul, through and through. Though my mom told me she lived in Daegu for many years prior to having me."

"Seoul is an interesting place, though."

"Eh. It's okay." You shrugged, and your nonchalance made you both laugh.

The walk to your apartment building from Midday Miso was not that far. Still, it was five blocks away and while you and Jungkook were currently sharing conversation together and seemingly walking the same path, you weren't sure if you were both walking together there.

As if he read your mind, he suddenly spoke after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

"You mind if we walk together to the building?"

You decided to joke to get the jittery feeling out of your system.

"Scared of the dark, Jungkook?"

"Sure... my five-eleven self is."

You squinted your eyes at him. He did not just go there!

"Is that a slight against my height because I'm five-seven, mind you."

Jungkook stopped in his tracks which made you do the same, and you watched as he put his hand on his waist while the other reach up to his face to place a finger over his chin, seemingly assessing you up and down. You looked at him incredulously.

"You're bumping your height to two inches." He seriously said.

You gasped audibly.

"Oh, shut up,"

You rolled your eyes and turned your back at him, continuing your walk as you heard him behind you bursting in laughter at your reaction.

"I'm kidding!"

You first met Jimin at a college party. He was five years older than you, supposedly out of college by the time you attended, but he always had a problem with rebellion–what with his ragged relationship with his parents, he would intentionally flunk his courses as a message to them that he'd always be a black sheep and a proud one at that, hoping it would be enough to convey that they could not force him to be the heir of their company. (Obviously, it had taken him nowhere, given that he was now currently attending a training program to work at said company).

But maybe it was a blessing in disguise that he was set back to five years for graduation. Because you got to know him, and he got to know you.

On the outside, you might look like the total opposite of each other–because Jimin was the definition of extroversion who wasn't afraid to put himself out there–while you, admittedly, were more reserved and usually shied away from any public attention.

As much as you were welcoming to a lot of people, you didn't have a lot of close friends growing up–at least not the kind of friends you'd see on TV shows–but when Jimin came to your life, you clicked so instantly you could not even figure out where you two exactly began.

The instant way you two clicked, you realized, was like your relationship with Jungkook nowadays.

Ever since that night at Midday Miso, you've been seeing a lot of each other. Granted that it was only in the same place, same time. You'd usually arrive past seven and he, a few minutes later. Jungkook, cladded in his slacks and long-sleeved polo, was becoming a usual sight after a shift, and your business casual clothes was turning as one for him as well.

Your usual seating spot became his as nights passed, and ahjumma, thank God, no longer asked you if he was your boyfriend. You were glad that she was slowly getting acquainted with him though, greeting him with a friendlier smile and tone reserved only for customers like you when he entered the restaurant, and Jungkook seemed to welcome the newfound friendship wholeheartedly.

On the consecutive nights you'd spent with him, it was almost as if you lived quite the same life. Though, you didn't know when he went to work. In fact, you didn't see him during the mornings even though in theory, it could be easy, granted that you both lived across each other. But strangely enough, you'd never caught him retiring to his flat to go to the bus station. You assumed he started earlier than you or way later.

You never asked, it never came up either.

Still, there was some sort of tranquility in the thought that you could spend some time with someone after your shift and just talk about whatever–and whatever meant a lot of things. Random at best. You once told him about the first raccoon you met in your life, and he told you all about the lioness he got to watch when he went to a South Saharan trip a few years ago.

Sometimes, the conversation went around what happened in the office that day. Jungkook noticed the little blot of ink on the cuff of your baby blue long sleeves, and you told him about the jammed printer in the accounting department. He'd told you later on about how he almost fucked up a report, said he was nervous because he was taking on a new role in the office.

Those moments were shared in long walks from Midday Miso to your apartment building, because naturally, you both established a small tradition of walking home together after a night of eating your hearts out at ahjumma's restaurant.

It was a rather sweet gesture, if you were honest to yourself. But you chose not to linger too much on the romantic thoughts that floated in your head, especially when you'd notice the way he made sure to walk on the outer side of the sidewalk, and when your fingers got too close the tips almost touched.

Because Jungkook, for how objectively good looking he was, was more than just his pretty face and physique.

He was kind and funny and genuine unlike any other straight men you've met in your life. Maybe the bar was low, but for all the times you've gotten to talk to him, he never showed any signs of ego most men would by the second hour of your meeting.

In the dating scene as an adult, a lot of men would come up to a date talking about how high they were placed at their company's hierarchy and how much they made in a month, and when they hear about yours, they'd always have a backhanded comment about how "you could only go up from there, right?" and those moments were always a bummer. Yawn-inducing, to be more accurate. Men and their predictability was boring and it was the reason why you'd declare to Jimin almost every time you got home from a date that you were retired from looking for them because most men just plainly fucking sucked.

But with Jungkook... was it different.

You found he didn't talk a lot, and one time you asked him if you were doing it–the talking–way too much, but he just chuckled and told you that he didn't mind.

Later on, you learned that he was just more of a listener rather than a talker, and that was not only a pure assumption of yours because he did listen attentively, alright. As for all the random things you've told him about, you never expected him to recall a single thing, not until one time when you passed by a food truck.

"Hey, didn't you say you like sundae?" Jungkook asked, and when you followed where his eyes were, it was at the food truck parked just a few steps ahead from where you both were.

"I do... wow. It's been so long since I saw a food truck around here." You said, following his steps towards the vehicle.

They had tables to dine in, and even if you were still full from eating at Midday Miso that night, the sundae was just too gratifying to decline. Jungkook was the same with the tteokbokki on his small plate, telling you he missed eating at one of these things, as they didn't exactly have anything like this abroad.

After he paid for the food (and of course not without a long, silly, light-hearted argument about it), he came back with two sticks of Melona ice pops which you looked at with widened eyes, animated expression written all over your face especially when he thrusted the purple yam flavor to you.

"Oh my god, how do they have these?"

"I was surprised as well... this is the first time in a while I'm eating this again." Jungkook said and then gestured to the ice pop in your hand, "You like the purple yam, right?"

"Yeah!"

You were about to ask him how he knew, but then you briefly remembered that one time you had a passionate rant about people hating on purple yam ice cream and why they weren't right.

And as you looked at Jungkook, he seemed to remember it all too well.

Jungkook showed genuine interest in the things you'd tell him about. He'd visit the cafes and restaurants you recommended to him as much as he could, and because you've come to exchange numbers with him eventually after almost two weeks of casually hanging out, they sometimes came during lunch break.

1 message received from Jungkook (Unit 446)

That day, you only exchanged contacts the other night, so seeing him on your phone so quickly like that caught you by surprise. It was welcomed though.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:36pm]: I went to Cafe Heaven for lunch and loved their ice americano

As soon as you read the first message, another one came.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:36pm]: This is Jungkook by the way :)

You laughed at his introduction. As if he didn't see you type his name on your phone last night–like he didn't jokingly complain about you putting the (Unit 446) in there but giving in eventually and also adding (Unit 336) to yours in his own contacts.

You [12:38pm]: Hi Jungkook! You [12:38pm]: im glad u went!!! u should also try their fettuccine alfredo

Seconds later, he sent a picture of the dish you just mentioned which put a smile on your face.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:39pm]: i'll get my refund from you if this doesnt taste good

You [12:40pm]: 1 week of friendship and ur already ripping me off 🤐

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:40pm]: 😁 Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:40pm]: first bite Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:41pm]: second bite

What was he on, you didn't know. But you were glad that he was slowly coming around, his jokes getting more... how would you say it... less polite? He just stopped apologizing after he said them! He usually would in the first few days, but now in your newfound closeness, it was like you were out of that stage where you tiptoed around each other still, feeling the other one out, trying to figure them out, all that stuff.

Nowadays, it was just more natural. Smooth-sailing. Paradoxical, almost, because of how the relationship felt more defined as well as loose.

You found you liked it that way.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:42pm]: I like it 👍🏻

And to your surprise, he sent you a picture of him, indeed, holding a thumbs up.

You'd like to think you were an expert on going along with the tide because even though you would be classified as introvert by most, you did pretty well in forming relationships with people–granted, most of them were fleeting, at best, hence the lack of bigger circles in most of your life–but you were great with making friends, regardless.

And maybe it was how you ended up with this whole thing with Jungkook. Because you were friendly and open, although you wouldn't dare to take all credits because as you mentioned before, he was a great conversationalist.

He didn't talk much as you said, but he didn't ever make you feel like you were talking way too much because he made sure that you knew he was listening, and when he talked, it was always engaging; conversations with him transitioned to different subjects in perfect seugue you would never noticed how you jumped from Melona ice pops to the existential dread you fought every morning before going to work.

When it came to humor, Jungkook's was different from Jimin's, of course, and your dynamic with your best friend could never be replicated with somebody else but Jungkook was close to truly becoming your friend, and for that, it was getting easier to ignore his handsome face.

You may have had an embarrassing moment of panicking mentally at seeing such a man in the first meeting, but nowadays, you could hold a conversation with him without thinking how hot he was.

Dare you say, you were starting to think more platonically about him rather than romantically. As you said, you were an expert on going along with the tide.

Or maybe that was too soon a declaration, because there were moments, like now, when you were certain juvenile flirting insisted on happening between you, steering you clear from completely feeling wholly platonic about Jungkook.

"I certainly have a bigger hand than you."

As if you didn't know that, Jungkook brought his hand up to show you it. Confused but not totally minding the whole thing, you proceeded to extend your own hand towards his, pressing them both together. Predictably, his hand could have engulfed the entirety of your own.

Jungkook laughed at the sight, and you didn't know exactly who broke the physical contact first but you were glad it was over as soon as it started.

But you couldn't have forgotten the electric zap along your spine when your hand got so close like that to his. Couldn't have ignored the hot feeling in your cheeks when you were made aware of what you just did.

Wow.

Were you guys flirting? Was he flirting? It was flirting, right? Juvenile, at best, because this was what kids did in high school! And Jungkook's hand was so...

You never imagined what it felt like–never even crossed your mind until now. Expectations about how his hand felt never formed in your head because you sure as hell never thought about that kind of thing happening in the first place, but Jungkook's hand was the right balance of soft and hard. Calloused in a way most men's hands naturally were, and soft like enough comfort when held and touched.

It wasn't clammy, thank god, but you also wouldn't have thought he had clammy hands, solely because he just looked like he didn't. But god, was it big.

And my goodness, did it make you feel things.

You drank your water fast and cleared your throat, subtly, so that he didn't think too much of it.

"O-okay, but that's just genetics. Doesn't mean you could throw stronger punches."

You said in retaliation to one of your useless debates which now covered the coin-operated boxing arcade machine across the bus station nearby.

Jungkook leaned back against the monobloc chair that was definitely way too flimsy for him.

You were currently hanging out at the dining area of the food truck you came across a few days ago, forgoing Midday Miso for the night. Lately, Jungkook and you have been exploring a few more places other than there. You've tried other restaurants nearby, but ultimately, Midday Miso was still the top favorite and the food truck was becoming a staple in lieu of its convenience and just the overall vibe of eating outside and feeling the breeze of summer night air.

"You got me curious about the boxing machine." Jungkook said, crossing his arms.

"I held the highest score there for like a week, you know? Only did it though to impress the kids who liked to watch."

At that, Jungkook's face lit up in interest.

"We should do that sometime."

"Oh... I see, I see. You wanna impress the kids, too?" You playfully accused, squinting your eyes at him.

He chuckled and waved you off.

"It can be a challenge." Jungkook shrugged and looked at you with a hint of mirth in his eyes.

You let out a puff of breath, amused at his obvious antics.

"What's the catch?"

"Well... free boba delivered to your door for a week if you get the higher score. How's that sound?" He looked at you expectantly.

You chuckled before saying, "I'm gonna rip you off so bad, Jungkook."

"Only if you win, though." He said with a mischievous smirk.

"Oh, wow. When, you mean. When I win. So what's in it for you?" You leaned your elbow on the table and studied his face.

He looked at you for a while, then, the smirk from earlier was wiped off and exchanged with a much gentler smile.

"Home-cooked dinner at my place next week Friday."

Your eyebrows met.

"You want me to cook you something? Jungkook, do you have a death wish? I may either give you unintentional food poisoning or burn your house down, there's no in between."

"No," Jungkook laughed at your insane conclusion. "Sorry, I should've specified. I mean if you lose, I'll be cooking us a meal at my place."

"Oh."

You were left staring at him, a bit dumbfounded.

He just said he wanted to cook you guys a meal. At his place.

He was inviting you to his place. His personal space.

"It won't be better than Midday Miso but I think I can keep up." Jungkook added with a sheepish smile and scratched the back of his head in that seemingly boyish manner.

"Sure..." you responded, a bit delayed, much to your effort of not showing your big surprise at his offer. Before he noticed the way you were not believing what you heard, you chose to quip in a (hopefully) cheeky, "That is if you win, though."

Jungkook only hummed and then nodded.

"If I win."

He said, smiling at you.

This was dangerous.

The whole thing was teetering to something that was not very platonic, and just as you were starting to think this whole thing was!

Jimin always told you that you were bad at flirting, but in your defense, how were you supposed to know, exactly, if someone was flirting with you? A lot of people were friendly like that! Jungkook was maybe like that? Had you shown interest and he noticed so now he was playing into it? But that would be uncharacteristic of him. You didn't think he'd be the type to do something cruel like that...

But the tide was always rising and falling, they said, and the good thing was; you knew how to go along with the current.

So you did what you do best.

"Would you like to donate to the poor?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but there's a chance this card's gonna decline because I am the poor."

The cashier looked you in the eye with an even more impassive look than the one she had before you got your turn on the counter.

"Could've just said no." She said, punching your order away and you had to shamefully swipe your card and leave to go over where Jimin was.

"The cashier just snubbed me for being poor." You complained to Jimin, moving your coat to the next seat and settling in in yours.

Jimin took a sip from his latte and looked at you dead in the eye and said, "I'll call the manager if you want."

"Fuck off." You retaliated immediately. Jimin snorted at your way too predictable response.

See, this has happened way too many times more than what your fingers could count. You could not even pinpoint the exact time when Jimin started to joke about going full-on Karen-mode when you complained about a single little thing at the places you went to.

Anyway, you were currently on a lunch break when Jimin texted to see if you were free. What better way to spend your lunch than with your best friend? The company's canteen food was getting tired and they hiked up their prices. Your office's kitchen also ran out of Solhee's – your coworker – biscuits and so you thought you had to make do of Jimin's money for that day. You told him your motives yourself and as a petty retort, he told you to pay for your own pasta — at a café that was way too expensive for its own good.

You stole a bite off his churros, and predictably, he rolled his eyes at you.

"Why'd you want to see me, by the way? What's up? You don't have training?" you glanced at your wristwatch, reading 12:40pm.

Soon, you were casually taking over his plate of churros. For how ridiculously priced it was, it sure tasted good as hell.

"I got the day off." Jimin shrugged.

You eyed him suspiciously almost immediately.

"Did you really...?"

It was a few seconds before Jimin gave in and took back his plate.

"Okay, no, I ditched the training today but for the record it's for a very important reason."

You put your hand over your chest and contorted your face in an awed, touched expression.

"The important reason being... meeting me?"

"Ew, no," Was Jimin's quick, disgusted, response – which earned a laugh from you as usual.

From your peripheral vision, you saw the waiter heading towards your direction and so you waited for him to come over and serve you your pasta and frappe. After thanking him, you huddled closer to your best friend and asked, "Okay, what is it then?"

Jimi pursed his lips, making your eyebrows meet.

"It's kinda... bummer news."

"You're pregnant?"

"No, you'd be way too happy and I can't be a single dad," He shook his head as if not even wanting to imagine that.

"Namjoon looks like he's gonna take care of it with you." You sing-sang, sipping on your coffee and winking at him indiscreetly – emphasis on indiscreetly because you never knew how to wink properly.

What you did not expect, was the look on Jimin's face when you mentioned Namjoon.

"Well..." He trailed off, and you waited for it curiously; anticipating his impending answer in return because your conversation was always quick-witted like that. But right now, Jimin's expression was devoid of any jokes.

Not something you expected when you just mentioned his boyfriend.

"I— did something happen?" You quickly dropped the teasing tone and exchanged it with a concerned one, eyes looking at him with worry.

Jimin closed his eyes for a while and let out a deep breath. "See, that's the bummer news."

"Do you want to tell me? Or we can just—"

He cut you off before you could even finish your sentence. But he did it with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes – and this was Jimin. His eyes did not not reach his eyes when he smiled!

"He's going to Italy."

"Oh."

When the pause prolonged for over a minute, with you looking at him mouth agape, Jimin let out a heavy sigh once again and shook his head.

"I know. It's work... and I always understood that. He travels a lot and we're both okay with it. But it was usually just around the country, not another continent. I mean, what did he mean Italy? And that's not even the worst part. He knew a month ago he was going but he only told me two days ago and he's leaving Thursday," Jimin looked at you to take a pause, seemingly trying to look for a reaction.

You thought, that's tomorrow.

As if he read your mind, he nodded, sounding almost defeated.

"I know."

"Oh, Jimin..." You said, not exactly knowing what to say.

Jimin and Namjoon had been together for over a year. At least, officially, because they spent the last three years just casually hooking up on and off. You liked them together and had been more than glad when they finally put a label to it – exactly why you knew Namjoon enough to not badmouth him when you usually would men Jimin usually dated. You knew perfectly well that Namjoon genuinely cared about your best friend and he loved him. So if Jimin was at a loss for this obvious mistake on his boyfriend's part, even more so you were.

"He's been blowing up my phone ever since." Jimin added, glancing at his phone on the table. "Intentionally didn't charge my phone today so I don't receive his calls and texts."

That prompted you to remember the message you received from Namjoon last night.

"Oh, that's why he texted me yesterday. He asked about you, and I told you through text but you didn't answer." Things were starting to make sense now, and as you observed Jimin's face, they were getting clearer. "You never talked since?"

Jimin pursed his lips. He took his coffee back to his mouth and sipped while looking away. "Nope."

"Jimin." You tilted your head.

He looked at you again, and you knew exactly that he was thinking the same thing as you: It was within his right to feel off about what Namjoon did, but regardless; Jimin was being a little petty, and he needed to communicate with his boyfriend instead of giving him the cold shoulder.

There was a pout that formed on Jimin's lips right after.

"I know. I just..."

"He could've told you sooner?" He nodded at your words. You mirrored that. "He should have. Italy is not Busan – it's not just a train ride away."

Jimin sighed, looking exasperated now. "I told him that exactly. I'm not even mad he's going to Italy, I just think I deserve to know right after he was told about it."

You nodded. "You should really talk. It sounds like he wants to apologize, anyway, given that he's now trying to talk to me to get through you."

"Sorry you got caught up in this. I'm gonna talk to him about it."

"Eh, it's fine. Joon and I are also friends, you know?" You shrugged, genuinely not minding Namjoon coming to you.

You liked Namjoon and thought that he was the perfect match for Jimin. They were cute together and just seemed to... take the best out of each other. You'd go to any lengths to keep them together, as long as Jimin wanted Namjoon and as his boyfriend. You've seen Jimin go from relationships to relationships, some just fleeting and simple dalliances, and most destructive and were just... not good for him. You've never seen your best friend truly happy and committed in a romantic relationship other than with Namjoon, and as someone who cared about him, you'd do a lot of things to make him happy.

"Here's another thing, his flight is tomorrow at 11:30pm in the evening. Mom's birthday dinner is at 10." Jimin usually had his composure everytime, and it was very rarely you'd see him show any worry because he liked everybody to think he was in control of every situation. You smiled. Classic Jimin. He'd only ever show his true nature to you though, and that was exactly why he looked at you with worried eyes and continued to say, "I really wanna be there to send him off."

The call time for his mother's party was at 10 and naturally people would start swarming in way past that time. If Jimin were to sneak out way too early, you knew his mother was not going to be happy about it and his father would give him an even bigger shit for it. Sure, he could cancel, but what would he say? That their supposed cishet son is sending off his boyfriend at the airport for the night? He couldn't reason work either because he didn't exactly have one.

After having his wrongful DUI accusation last spring– which was actually already settled, on the grounds that it was definitely not DUI and the owner of the other car just overreacted to a fender bender, the media was adamant on tactically using that to taint his family's image and it unfortunately succeeded – hence, why Jimin had been laying low these past few months; going to training programs, obeying his parents more than usual, doing what they wanted...

You sighed. Your best friend deserved so much better.

"Don't worry, I'll find a way to get us to leave early." You told him after awhile.

Jimin arched his brow, intrigued.

Waving him off, you said, "I can fake something."

As if hearing some magic words, Jimin suddenly perked up.

"No way you're using the diarrhea card?"

Giving him a dirty look, you shook your head. "Nah, not during a dinner party. It's gotta be something new and less... gross."

"Oh, oh!" Jimin put a finger over his lip. "What about a sprained ankle? Can you pull that off?"

You deadpanned. "Okay, you ought to pay me more if you want me to do that."

"I can, but I won't. Stop ripping me off, I'm your best friend."

"Jimin, I'll save you from your family. I'm great at this." You said jokingly, but you hoped that he knew you weren't just jesting and were serious about it.

With the appreciation masking your best friend's face, though, you knew he got the message right away, but as you looked at him longer, you realize that he was about to say something and you quickly pulled back, shaking your head.

Jimin quickly reacted. "No! You know what, I'm gonna say it—"

"Don't say it." You quickly cut him off, giggling while you shake your cup of coffee.

"You can't keep me from saying I lo—"

"Jimin, I will tell everybody in this place you watch dubbed anime, I'm serious."

He gasped, quite dramatically.

"You did not just go there!" Then, he lowered his voice a bit, arching his brow at you, vindicative when he said, "You wore skinny jeans a month ago."

"How dare you, you wore a fuckass poncho last week. I saw on your IG story."

"That was from Namjoon and he also gave you one, FYI."

You grimaced. "Tell him I love him but I'm not wearing a poncho, Jimin."

"I was gonna tell you I love you and that you're the best person ever but now I have to rethink all of that." He rolled his eyes, and when the banter ended with you having the last words, you laughed at his face.

"God, you're just never beating me at this."

"Please, we both know you write your mediocre insults on your diary every night trying to one-up me, __. But let's talk about something else."

"I'm not even gonna acknowledge the diary thing but, sure, shoot." You said, starting to eat your pasta.

Jimin looked at your food full of judgement and grimaced. "Is that shrimp? Your doctor is growing grey pubes as we speak," He commented, and you knew he was referring to your shrimp allergy so you shushed him.

"This is vegan shrimp. It's tofu."

He just shook his head, disagreement written on his face. But he let it pass, anyway.

"Anyway, how's Mr. 446?"

The pasta suddenly entered the wrong track.

"Girl," Jimin was quick to offer you the glass of water on his side and you were just as fast to drink it. "You okay?"

"I'm sure there are existing cases of people dying because food got on the wrong track while they're eating, but yeah, sure, I'm okay." When you finished the water, you looked at Jimin who was just doing the same thing.

Crossing his arms, he eyed you expectantly. "Well?"

"I mean... what do you want me to say?" you told him, and you could've sworn you did not want to show anything on your face but you were certain there was a huge smile on it and for some reason, you couldn't help it.

Jimin's jaw dropped, expressions of disbelief and amusement when he asked you curiously, "What do you mean by that?"

"Okay, look, Jimin—" You scratched the back of your head, feeling a little sheepish to tell him all about Jungkook. "He told me we'd get dinner at his place this Friday if he wins this... thing."

His mouth was agape by then and you couldn't help but laugh.

"You... slut."

You would absolutely be rolling off the floor if you weren't at a public place the moment he mouthed the word, but still, you couldn't help but retort back.

"Shut up, you can't be the only one whoring around in this friendship." Jimin snorted at that and you both had to stifle your laughter when you noticed a woman from across the room eyeing you both.

This was one of the reasons why Jimin and you didn't belong in public places other than bars or clubs – because you were way too rowdy together for civilization.

"So you're saying you're whoring around?" He eyed you suspiciously.

"Wrong information. It's actually kind of platonic."

Jimin quickly waved you off. "Babe, if a guy invites you to his place, nothing is ever platonic about it. What do you think you'll do together there? Stare at each other for two hours straight?"

God, you hated and loved that he enables your delusions.

"Okay, you're being insane about this. It's just dinner," Trying to fight off the not-so-very-platonic things that suddenly played in your head after hearing his previous remark. To show that you didn't care, you added for good measure, "—And anyway, we had some sort of deal about it so it's not definite."

Your best friend just shrugged. "I'm all for it. But you're sure he isn't a serial killer, right?"

"Jimin, god, no," you chuckled at that. "I mean, I don't really know for sure, but we're friends now and as far as I know, he's never shown signs of psychopathy."

Jimin and you hadn't hung out in a while, so you haven't really told him all about Jungkook yet and the things you got to know about him. He didn't even know his name. As far as he was concerned, Jungkook was still Mr. 446, and you were fine keeping it that way. He had a lot on his plate right now, anyway.

"Just being cautious." He sing-sang, putting both his hands in the air.

You shook your head.

"Anyway, we also need to talk about what we're gonna wear tomorrow," Jimin suddenly said. "You got the Pinterest board I sent you, right? For the inspo."

Grinning, you grabbed your iPad from your bag and got to the link immediately. Your phone died on the way to the café. Good thing you had another device and brought it with you.

"I also added a few things in here. Gold and black's the theme, right?" You clarified, scrolling through the board you and Jimin both contributed to. Your best friend took it upon himself to transfer seats so he could be beside you and look at your screen at the same time.

"You're gonna look so good in Schiaparelli, babe," Jimin said while checking out the pictures you added.

"It's just an inspo, I don't actually need to wear a Schiaparelli." You chuckled.

"Who do you think your best friend is?"

You both laughed at that but it stopped when a notification popped up on your computer. Recognizing the address as your work email, you were quick to hover over it. When you were about to open it to see the full message, your iPad suddenly died.

"Shoot." You looked at Jimin with a straight face. "I forgot to plug it in. Didn't notice the battery."

Jimin grimaced. "Didn't bring any power cable."

"We'll have to do with a phone. Mine died."

You were just about to ask him for his but then you remembered what he said about avoiding Namjoon, hence, his phone was of no use either.

"We're gonna have to freestyle."

Last year, Mrs. Park's party was held at a theater hall – your first time at one, by the way.

Tonight, it was at their mansion.

You've only ever been to the Park's a total of one time, which was now. Stepping a foot inside here for the first time in your life, the house felt unreal. It was the epitome of money and wealth and everything regal in the world – like a palace of some sort. They had butlers and guards at the gates so maybe that wasn't an exaggeration, but damn, Jimin truly came from money.

Regardless of how shiny the whole building was in both literal and figurative senses though, there was an emptiness to it. It didn't look lived in – which was a fair assumption for a house this big. It definitely did not look like people liked staying here, and maybe that was not a stretch, because as soon as he turned 18, Jimin moved away and lived in his own place ever since. You asked him on your way here and he told you it was his first time this year to visit his own house.

The decoration was sick, though. Granted, they must have surely hired people to do it but at least they'd hired excellent ones. You wouldn't have expected anything less from Jimin's mom.

Jimin and you arrived at 10pm sharp, and thankfully, people were already starting to fill the place up. It was now past 15 minutes to 10pm since you arrived and there really was nothing different that went on from last year; you saw some familiar faces, politicians, and celebrities. Jimin introduced you to some people as his girlfriend, and you got to have quick chats with his model friends.

You knew it didn't actually matter if you thought about it carefully, but there was truly nothing compared to the feeling you get when you see someone in the flesh that you only see on TV all your life. You didn't feel lucky to see them in person, per se, you were just poured over the realization that these people were actually real and they weren't just some sort of simulation to keep the entertainment industry of your country afloat.

Although, you did meet Han Sol – an actress whose works you genuinely admired. Jimin just told you her husband was his second cousin.

It wasn't later that Jimin and you were invited to his family's table, where some of his cousins and immediate family were.

The greetings went pretty normal. Normal as in: Jimin's mom didn't say anything about your weight first thing first. Granted, she didn't try to hide the look of disappointment on her face when she saw you with his son. Probably reeling at the fact that you were still "dating" each other even after a year — she was probably under the impression that it wasn't serious between you two last year. His father, meanwhile, was... quiet. As usual. A man who obviously didn't really say much except ask Jimin about the training program and his siblings' jobs.

Mr. Park didn't really talk to you, just like last year. Like you were almost invisible to him – and you were glad that was the case. He probably didn't like to acknowledge your supposed relationship in the first place. Probably knew that you were working a middle-class job and didn't want to know any further. But at least, he wasn't saying anything. That was nice.

"Where's your cousin?" Asked Jimin's mom suddenly, looking at his son.

"He said he got caught up in traffic. Sent 20 minutes ago." Jimin shrugged. You would ask him about which cousin they were referring to but they had like millions of it at these events so you didn't bother.

Mrs. Park shook her head disapprovingly. "That kid. Always late to the family dinners. Did Junghyun ever teach—"

"Hey,"

Your attention was then focused to the man who just arrived. Black tie, tall... dashing. Jimin was a good-looking individual and his family, as evil as they may be as per his words, were blessed with good genes. If you were to look at the new man that arrived to the table very carefully, you'd say he almost looked familiar.

"Oh, Junghyun!"

Jimin glanced at you and discreetly mouthed, "Cousin."

"Aunt, happy birthday." He said after laughing at Jimin's mother coos. He looked across the table and continued, "Hi, uncle. Jaeyul, Sunghoon, Jimin." They all greeted him back and you could feel the hairs on your nape starting to stand up when his eyes landed on you once again. "And this is...?"

"Oh, that's Jimin's girlfriend, __." Jaeyul, Jimin's brother said.

"Hi." you greeted him, waving a bit.

"Oh?" Junghyun immediately looked at Jimin, eyes not hiding his shock. When you trained your eyes on Jimin, you felt his fake smile. "That's great, man. I didn't know you had a girlfriend. Hi, miss...?"

"It's __." you filled in.

"Nice to meet you, __." He said with a smile. The more you looked at him, the more you could almost pinpoint who he looked like – but that shouldn't really matter.

Junghyun looked over Jimin's parents once again, "Anyway, sorry I'm a bit late, got caught up in traffic."

Jimin cleared his throat.

"How about you, Junghyun? Got a girlfriend yet?" He asked as soon as Junghyun sat on the opposite side of the long table.

You could see Jimin's mother's curiosity peaking at that.

"Tell us, dear. Last time you were dating Kang Iseul, right? The actress. You're still with her?"

Everybody at the table nodded while you almost choked on the smoked quail you were eating. He was dating Kang Iseul? She was a popular actress who announced a hiatus three years ago. That actress Kang Iseul?

Junghyun chuckled and shook his head. "Nah, aunt, that was my brother, and uh, no, I'm not dating anybody currently."

"Oh well. I just wish your brother stops dating that woman. I never really liked that girl. She acts way too self-righteous! I mean, who cut ties with their billionaire father and live independently just so they can say they're self-made? It's ridiculous." Jimin's mother said in that usual snotty tone of hers, and you could not possibly process all of what was going on.

If it wasn't clear to you a moment ago, it was crystal now. Unfortunately, you were a bit chronically online and were there in real time when one random tweet blew up about Kang Iseul being a nepotism baby. But was this guy's brother really dating her? The most important and concerning thing, though, was that: why was Jimin's mom always so annoying about who her family members date? And this was not even her immediate family, mind you.

"Jina," Jimin's father had a warning tone when he called her but Jimin's mom just shrugged him off with a "tsk!"

"Kids are so ungrateful nowadays, don't you think? Anyway, Junghyun dear, you remember the Kang gala I told you about two months ago?" Jimin's mom looked pointedly at Jimin and you bit your lip.

Of course, here comes her passive aggressive disapproval of you.

"Kang Heesu and her sister Kang Hani will be there. Heesu is a wonderful woman," she chuckled, looking over at Jimin's direction subtly. You had to physically restrain yourself from rolling your eyes. Couldn't she be more obvious about acting as a wingman for Jimin and Heesu? But she continued, just like she always did. "I also heard Kang Hani is going for senior partner at Yoon and Yang, you may be interested. Pretty lady."

Junghyun just awkwardly laughed. "I'll keep that in mind."

Jimiin's father suddenly spoke, making everyone look at him.

"Where is that kid?" He said, authority dripping through his voice. Jimin was obviously not close to his father, and who would be? Mr. Park was way too intimidating. You found it funny to think if he ever did anything remotely paternal towards his children.

"We were supposed to go together but he said he had something to finish. He'll be arriving later." Junghyun said, obviously not oblivious to the "kid" Mr. Park was referring to. You were way too uncaring to actually try to figure that out.

"I see." Jimin's father nodded. "How's Jeon and Min, Junghyun? I heard you were just appointed managing partner last week."

Junghyun responded with a "yes" and they started to talk about the law firm – you assumed – and other people they mutually knew related to the business.

You knew Jimin's complicated family tree was composed of all sorts of professionals, but damn, they had lawyers in here too. It was like out of a career day event at grade schools.

"Is it true Gukka's going to be CEO?" Jimin's mother said, joining the conversation.

You were glad they were doing all the talking. Last year, they talked to you like they were interrogating you and that was not nice.

"Well, dad's not giving up the company so soon. Gukka's going for interim CTO first." Junghyun said with a polite smile.

Gukka. That must be the brother of Junghyun, although it sounded more like a nickname than a real name.

"Your brother's a hard worker. He's looking at a CEO position, some are still at training programs." Jimin's father remarked with a pointed tone.

Oh, fuck me, you thought to yourself. You thought it was gonna take awhile for the comparison to start, but it seemed they were determined to beat their record of one hour from last year.

You tried subtly looking at Jimin to see if he was okay or anything, but you felt him squeezing your wrist under the table. His face was devoid of any emotion as he continued with his own food.

Junghyun, meanwhile, was obviously taken aback by the response and also looked over at Jimin. He was quick to recover, though – probably knew that was a jab at his cousin just like every other person in the room. Atmosphere grew tense, and you had to squirm in your seat a little bit.

"Training programs help a lot, though." Junghyun awkwardly laughed. You were starting to feel bad for him as well.

"Well, you're lawyering. Trainings are important. Mine's kinda stupid." Jimin said which made everybody look at him, including you.

"You're learning anything yet, son?" His father pointedly looked at him.

"We'll see."

Jimin's dismissive tone made you feel the eye roll he would've done after saying that.

Look, he rebelled for the most part of his life so him being passive-aggressive towards his family was not a new thing, but to witness it was both nerve-wracking and honestly... funny. His parents were such assholes so they probably deserved his attitude.

Mrs. Park smiled a fake one before looking at you.

"Well, what about you __ dear? You're a... what was that again? How is that going for you?"

Because you wanted to piss them off, you mirrored her fake smile and said, "I got fired six months ago at my accounting job."

"Pft—" you pinched Jimin's arm at his reaction.

Of course he'd laugh at that. You asked him how you could piss his parents off tonight just to get back at them from last year and he told you to pretend to be unemployed or you work a minimum wage job because that was their biggest ick. Jimin didn't know you were going to come through.

"Oh."

The look on Jimin's mom's face looked as if she heard the most scandalous thing ever, and if his father's frown was deep even before the dinner started, his face was now below the ground. It felt satisfying to get those looks on their faces. Good! They were such assholes. Imagine getting devastated at someone being unemployed? Okay – for the record, being unemployed was devastating but these people weren't sympathizing with that, they found it humiliating in an elitist way– criminal almost.

You nodded, your lips almost getting tired from stretching them too far.

"Yeah. Anyway, I started working at a local burger joint. You should visit us sometime."

"I'm vegan." Jimin's mom said, her face now drained with the fake joy she's worn all night.

"We have vegan options." you quipped. Jimin once again made a sound beside you, hiding his laughter.

"Wait, really? They offer vegan options at a street burger joint?" Sunghoon, the youngest of the Park brothers, asked.

You almost laughed at the genuine curiosity in his voice. He was still in high school and from what Jimin told you, he was a nice kid. He wasn't very close to any of his brothers, though.

"Nah, it's the only one in town." You bullshit one more time, drinking the wine beside you. "Sorry, can I excuse myself for a minute?"

They nodded and you stood up, heading to the bathroom, brisking once you got out of their sight to get there more quickly.

It was now 10:30 pm – meaning, you had to do something to get Jimin out of here now if he wanted to be on time at the airport to send off Namjoon.

Once you got inside, you looked at yourself in the mirror and sighed.

This whole thing was sucking the shit out of your soul, but you needed to get through it.

It took you awhile to finish your pep talk in the bathroom.

If only you could've have locked yourself in there to avoid socializing with anybody, you willingly would. But you were running out of time and unfortunately, you had something to do and that was to fake some illness to get both Jimin and you out of here.

When you got out to approach the family's table one more time, you suddenly stopped in your tracks.

The table was at least fifteen meters away from where you stood, but you could clearly see the side in which Jimin's cousin, Junghyun, sat, facing your direction. He wasn't the issue – no, far from it. It was the guy beside him who wore the same set of black tie as him; the face attached to the body who wore it though, was someone you did not expect to see.

Why the fuck was Jungkook, Unit 446, here?!

From where you were, you could see him engaging with Junghyun and Jimin's parents. You couldn't hear them, of course, but it was clear that they were acquainted – close – even from afar.

Why did he look so comfortable with the Parks? Why was he at the family table laughing and conversing with everybody, including Jimin? Why did he seem like he went to many of these, like this was just another Thursday for him?

There was a waiter who walked past you and you were grateful for it because had it not been the case, people would start to get weirded out about you standing on the same place longer than necessary, looking stoned. That was also an opportunity to run away from the situation without Jungkook possibly seeing and recognizing you.

"I'll take this," You told the waiter and grabbed the glass of champagne and quickly turned on your heels, heading to the opposite side of the family table where the Parks, and apparently, Jungkook were.

You found yourself heading to the bathroom again, your feet seemingly developing a mind of its own as it led you there unconsciously. You knew you'd be in trouble if they found out about you putting the champagne glass in the sink, but you needed to get inside the toilet and think over everything that was happening tonight.

What the fuck. What the fuck! Again, why the hell was Jungkook here?

As far as you knew, he was just a regular man that happened to be living across from you. He was just supposed to be some guy you were regularly hanging out with nowadays. Your friend. Your crush – whatever! What he wasn't supposed to be is be here at your best friend's mother's birthday party and hanging out with his family!

Your phone dinged, a message notification from Jimin welcoming you.

cuntress #1 [10:32pm]: girl what happened I saw u going back to the bathroom?

You didn't know why it was suddenly too hot, but you felt the balls of sweat starting to form on the side of your forehead.

You [10:33pm]: im going with the diarrhea excuse

cuntress #1 [10:33pm]: tbh idc atp I just wanna go to joon 😔

"Shit!"

Right! Joon. Namjoon. Jimin needed to go to Nmajoon as soon as possible.

cuntress #1 [10:33pm]: also another cousin has arrived u rmr jeon jungkook he's junghyun's brother cuntress #1 [10:33pm]: love this guy but moms starting to compare me to him and I need out right NEOW im justt aking hits after hits jesusssssss

You could just feel the blood draining from your face as soon as you read Jungkook's name in the text.

Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook. Gukka. Kook-a.

That was why the Junghyun guy looked familiar. Because he had the same coloring of Jeon Jungkook. Because they were goddamn siblings.

You started to replay some memories in your head, trying to figure out if you've ever heard Jungkook talk about his family in one of your conversations. But as far as you remembered, he never did. All you knew about him was that he was from the States, and he only got here because of work and he had a dog and as far as you were concerned, his cousin was definitely not Park fucking Jimin, your best friend.

Pacing around the confined space of the toilet, you tried to wrack your brain if you've ever mentioned Jimin to him and in the event that you did, why he never told you that he was his cousin – but you came up blank. Blank because you never told him about your best friend's name... and in turn, Jimin didn't know what Mr. 446's name was, either. They were both genuinely oblivious about the whole thing and couldn't have made you a fool in the situation.

In short, you were the one who was stupid as hell for not connecting the dots sooner.

"Hey, you just landed?"

"Nah, you want me to pick you up?" Jimin sat up on the edge of the bed and you looked at him curiously. "Sure, I'm free, Kook. You have a place to stay? Hotel suite or something?" He nodded to whatever the other person was saying on the other line. "Oh, you're here for three months? Thought you were just flying in for mom's birthday?"

It was moments after they said goodbye that Jimin turned to you to ask, "Well, my cousin's apparently staying here for three months. Got this job thing going on."

"Fuck me." You hissed, remembering that time when Jimin told you about his cousin staying here for three months because of work.

cuntress #1 [10:35pm]: its either ur taking a guinness world record breaker piss there or u really do have diarrhea now and ur shitting cuntress #1 [10:36pm]: anyway get this, jungkook's gonna be interim cto at your company did u know that??????????????????

You almost dropped your phone upon reading the last message.

What the hell did he mean by that?

Heart beating fast as if it wanted to break out of your own ribcage, you closed your eyes and read Jimin's message once again. There was no way he would be shitting you about any of this. He knew where you worked at and you knew your current company was his uncle's, and now that you knew Jungkook was his cousin...

Shit. Was this what they were talking about at the table earlier? About Junghyun saying his brother was gonna be interim CTO? Did he mean Jeon Jungkook all along? Your freaking neighbor?

Suddenly, you remembered the email you received that afternoon that you never bothered to check again because you simply forgot about it. Who even actually checks their work email? Literally no one. You spend your weeks facing your computer while email flew in like porn ads on a shady website, you weren't about to willingly go to the app and check it on your leisure time.

But maybe you should have.

Fingers involuntarily shaking in their wake as you switched to your work email on your phone, you clicked on the recent unread message that was on top from the HR department.

Subject: Invitation to Ceremony: Announcement of Interim CTO Dear Blue Nexus Inc. employee, We hope this email finds you well. We would like to inform you that a ceremony has been scheduled on July 29, 2028, 10:00 am at the AVR Hall 5, 12th floor. The purpose of this meeting is to announce the appointment of our interim Chief Technology Officer (CTO), Mr. Jeon Jungkook. As you may be aware, our previous CTO, Mr. Shin Juman, is currently on medical leave recovering from a stroke. While he is recuperating and undergoing treatment, it has become necessary for us to appoint an interim CTO for an indefinite period of time to ensure the continuity and effectiveness of our operations. Your presence at this ceremony is highly valued as we introduce the new leadership to the team and outline our strategic direction moving forward. Light refreshments will be served. Thank you for your attention to this matter. We look forward to seeing you at the ceremony. Best regards, HR Department

You knew that feeling when you were just taking hits and hits? This was it.

So not only was Jeon Jungkook Jimin's cousin, he was also gonna be the interim CTO of the company you were currently working at. He was technically going to be your boss, and you would be both working in the same place all the while living across each other where he would see you taking out your trash every Sunday morning in your worn-out highschool PE shirt and pants. He was going to be your boss working at the company you complained to him about on the nights you walked together to your shared apartment complex.

You flirted with Jungkook. You flirted with the guy who was the son of the owner of your whole company building – and not only that, he was your best friend's cousin, to add salt to injury.

You [10:38pm]: jimin we need to get out of here

cuntress #1 [10:38pm]: ive been saying

You [10:38pm]: but i cant go out there again. Just tell them i had a problem in the bathroom??

cuntress #1 [10:38pm]: ok on it cuntress #1 [10:38pm]: im kind of convinced u shitted in there tho????????

You rolled your eyes, but at the same time found an opportunity in that. Jimin can't know the truth.

You [10:39pm]: u cant judge me for having a very human experience fuck u the cake i ate earlier was giving cake boss

cuntress #1 [10:39pm]: KJAHFKGSIDFHDSHASFHSKJBF

You [10:39pm]: im literally doing this for u and joon

cuntress #1 [10:39pm]: IKNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!thanks to ur stomach problems cuntress #1 [10:39pm]: im going there

You [10:40pm]: make sure they don't see us again to really sell the whole im-embarassed-thing

cuntress #1 [10:40pm]: ON IT! Were going out the back door I don't think they'll notice

You couldn't even find it in you to laugh a little bit at your silly exchange and scheme, because you were way too stressed about what you just found out.

You let out a controlled, heavy breath, leaning your back on the door and shut your eyes aggressively.

"What the hell am I gonna do after this?"

PART TWO | ....

#fic: nb #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook #jungkook x you #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook

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robo-writing · 21 days

Text

NSFW Alphabet - Logan Howlett Edition

Pairing: Logan Howlett/Reader Warnings: AFAB pronouns, breeding mention, pet names, bodily fluids, p in v actions, no protection, overall horniness, 18+ MDNI. Author's Note: This man is renting space in my synapses, send help.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He is so gentle with you, it almost makes you feel like you’re made out of glass. He prefers to hold you close once you’re thoroughly satisfied, enjoying how your body folds into him to be as close as possible.

If you ask him for water and snacks he’s gone within the second, bringing you whatever you need, and then immediately putting you back on his lap so he can feed you. Don’t argue with him on this, he won’t take no for an answer.

You collapse against the sheets with a sigh, legs still shaky from Logan’s excellent bedside service. You’re practically boneless when he pulls you onto his chest, the dark hair tickling your cheek as he cages you in his embrace.

“Logan, I’m sweaty—“

“Do I look like I give a damn princess?” He grumbles, his hands reaching down to smooth over your hair. “Just let me take care of you, alright?”

Your whining is just for show and he knows this, a small part of you feeling guilty because he always treats you with such respect. He’s not sure what kind of assholes you’ve been dating before but he’s damn certain he’ll be the one to teach you how you should be treated.

You melt in his arms, eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of his large hands running down your back. His voice cuts through the silence, far more gentle than you’re used to.

“Need anything else doll?” He asks, to which you shake your head.

No, tonight you just need him.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He’s an all around man, asking him that is like asking a man to choose between air and food to survive.

He loves playing with your tits, loves biting at the swell of your breasts before sucking on them, loves burying his face in the valley of them—

He loves using your thighs as an anchor when he eats your pussy, rolling his eyes when they squeeze around his head—

He loves the sight of your ass bouncing back when he fucks you into the mattress, the sound of your combined hips ringing loudly in his head—

He really just loves you.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

It only took one time for him to be utterly addicted to your pussy. He refuses to cum anywhere that isn’t inside you at least once, just the sight of it falling from your abuser cunt has him going back for seconds. The sloppy sound of your juices and his cum as he thrusts into you is like asmr.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Masochist to the extreme. You kind of had a feeling with the way he shrugs off pain but you didn’t know how bad it was until you scratched him just a bit too hard while getting your guts rearranged.

Your nails dig into the meat of his arms, a deep-seated groan erupting from the back of his throat at the feeling. Immediately you look down to see the angry red marks left behind that heal within seconds, an apology on your lips interrupted by his voice growling in your ear.

“Do that again.”

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

The man is over two hundred years old, he lays down pipe like a master plumber. Knows all your spots better than you do, knows exactly what gets you going because he can practically taste the arousal in the air. Those senses of his are no joke.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary so he can see your face, doggystyle so he can fuck a hole into the mattress and breed you.

Prefers missionary normally if only for the fact that when he puts even half his full weight on your body you’re forced to lie there and take it, unable to so much as squirm while he fucks you within an inch of your life. Enjoys doggy when the beast inside needs to scratch a particular itch that only seeing you ass up with cum dripping down your thighs can reach.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

A wholesome 50/50 of being love-struck and horny, he has his moments of laughter but they’re almost always immediately followed by pure lust. You’d think he’d be super serious all the time but he’s surprisingly gentle. He prefers to watch you enjoy yourself, he’s much more of a service top in that regard.

Want him to eat you out until you’re pushing his head away? Want him to fuck you nice and slow, keeping you right on the edge? Whatever your flavor is, he’s down for a taste.

That’s not to say he doesn’t have his rough moments as well. It’s very easy for him to lose himself so he tries not to go overboard for your safety, but if you ask him to let loose he’s not going easy on you. Just remember when you wake up unable to walk that you asked for this.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Not groomed at all, just an overall hairy man. He’s got the prettiest happy trail from his navel to his dick that makes his eyes roll when you drag your nails across it. If it made you uncomfortable he’d make an effort to trim.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Very intimate, wants you to know just how much you mean to him. Even when he’s being rough with you he makes sure that your comfort is priority. Talks you through it.

You’re face down, ass up, just the way he likes it. Your thighs tremble with the aftershocks of your orgasm, pussy practically drooling for him as your slick dribbles down the plushness of them.

It’s a sight that Logan could never get tired of.

His fingers rub soothing circles around your sensitive clit, gathering your wetness between two fingers and listening to your breath hitch when he replaces them with his cock, lightly prodding at your entrance.

“How we feelin’ princess?” He asks, coating his length with your juices.

You mumble praise into the pillow, and sure he can hear it with his enhanced senses, but that’s not the point—he wants you loud and clear.

Gently he lifts you off the bed, a strong arm around your waist as he rocks himself between your swollen folds, lips trailing at your ear as your head rolls back.

“Come on doll, I need to be able to hear you,” he breathes. “Tell me what you want.”

Your hands grab at his arm, a desperate whine on your lips. “Fuck me, please.”

His chuckle reverberates in your ear. “That’s my girl.”

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

When he was younger and still learning how to fight his animal instincts, absolutely. Nowadays he doesn’t really think about it, but occasionally Logan will struggle with keeping his thoughts off of you, especially when you’re wearing something nice and he doesn’t have the time to drag you back to the bedroom.

He’d prefer if you were the one touching him, but his hand will do for now, if at the very least to hold him over until you get home.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Praise - Like mentioned before, adores talking you through it. Favorite nicknames for you are princess, baby, and sweetheart, and his voice in your ear is like heaven.

Pain Kink - BIG masochist. Use him like a scratching post, he loves it. He’ll never admit it but if you bite his lip hard enough to bleed he’ll moan like a whore.

Primal Play - Come on now, the man is an animal at the best of times and downright feral at the worst. This extends beyond the bedroom too, he’s very protective of his mate girlfriend and would move mountains for her.

Breeding - This is an extension of his primal play, he adores filling you up with his cum, whether or not you get pregnant. Something about the sight of it just screams at him like a claim that only he can give you. It’s his cum that paints your pussy, and no one else gets to have that honor.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Ideally the bedroom but he’s one of those people that couldn’t care less, if he wants you he wants you. It’s going to be up to you to be the voice of reason, and if that fails? Better learn to keep your volume down.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Domestic acts, making him feel like a normal man rather than the weapon the world wants him to be.

Making him breakfast? His hands are playing with your hips the whole time, whispering sweet nothings against the skin of your neck, swaying to the imaginary rhythm he sets. Cleaning the countertops? He drapes his wide frame across your back, pinning you to the cold granite while he tells you how good your ass looks in your pants, heavy hands making it known just how much he appreciates your attire. Bring him breakfast in bed in nothing but an apron? He’s pulling you into the sheets and not letting you go until you’re screaming his name.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

As much as a masochist he is, the last thing he’d ever do is hurt you. The most you could ever convince him to do is manhandling you or spanking, but the moment he senses anything but enjoyment he’s on his knees apologizing.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Y’all remember what Doja Cat said about big noses?

If he passes out between your legs he’ll die smiling, if he makes you pass out then he’s never going to let you hear the end of it. Very likely to overstimulate you until you’re pushing him off you, only to pin your hips down and keep on going. Enjoys palming your thighs and burying his face as far into your pussy as he can, his philosophy is if you can still speak he’s not doing well enough.

As for him, he becomes so submissive when you suck him off. It’s the only time he’s guaranteed to let you take the reins, he prefers watching you work rather than taking over. Tucks your hair back, strokes your head, whispers how good you make him feel and how your mouth feels like heaven. When he cums he’ll ask you to open your mouth before swallowing and the sight of your cum-stained lips gets him hard like nothing else.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Normally very sensual, can easily change with the drop of a hat. Long, deep strokes that reach all the right places and make you see stars. Massive service top vibes, one of those lovers that always knows what you need at the moment (he totally can’t hear your heart pounding in your chest, no sir.)

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Yes, and proud to admit it too. Always promises that he’ll be quick, but it never is. He can’t help it, y’know? You make him feel too good.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Yes, but the catch is you have to tell him. You can throw him every hint in the world but he won’t so much as touch you until you use your words. Logan likes hearing how desperate you are, he’s a bit mean like that.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Why would you ever bother asking that? His limit is when you decide to tap out, if even that.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Didn’t really understand and thought you were insulting him at first by offering to use toys in the bedroom. It wasn’t until you gave him a show that he realized just how much he was missing before.

If anything, he doesn’t feel the need to use them on you, but loves watching you use them on yourself.

The small toy buzzes in your hand, the sound of it ringing loudly in the four walls you call a bedroom. Soft sighs accentuated by needy whines, baby pink sheets snaking around your soft thighs, the muffled sounds of your moans when you bite your lip—

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Logan says, mesmerized at the view, eyes glued to where the vibrator meets your swollen clit. He palms at the tent in his jeans, cock twitching when your back arches off the bed with a cry of his name.

He can fucking smell it—your arousal, your need—it makes him drunk, intoxicated off your pleasure. It makes his throat go dry, makes him want to crawl over you and keep you locked beneath him, greedily wringing out every last bit of it.

Your voice cuts through the fog of carnality, a gentle distraction from the beast that threatens to break loose with every passing second.

“Enjoying the view?”

He can only bring himself to nod.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He’s such a fucking tease it’s unreal, but he’s also very impatient. It leads to moments where you’ve been edged for so long that tears are brimming your eyes, and when you look at him with those puppy-dog eyes he can’t bring himself to hold off any longer, all previous plans discarded in favor of folding you in half and exposing your puffy cunt to his hungry gaze.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He gets louder and louder the longer you go on as his animal side overpowers him. He’s no stranger to noise but when he’s deep inside you he can’t help but resort to grunts and growls of your name, makes it known just how good you feel wrapped around his cock.

I personally like the idea that because of his mutation he follows mating rituals like real wolverines do, so if you’re into that he’s extra loud during mating season, to the point that he has to bury his face into your neck or else the whole building will hear him.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Likes it when you wear his clothes because they smell like you afterward. Encourages you to do so, and maybe hides your shirts during laundry day as an excuse (but he’ll never admit it.) When you’re not around he’ll even hold the fabric to his nose and take a deep inhale, imagining it was you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

As mentioned before, an overall hairy man. Strong muscles with a healthy layer of fat, likes to laugh at you when you bury your face between his tits because they’re nice and soft.

When it comes to his dick he leaves nothing to be desired—it’s heavy, like real heavy. Nice and girthy with a fat tip that makes your breath catch in your chest every time he glides it in, the slap of his balls against your ass soon following suit. A nice pretty pink with a couple of veins running throughout.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Always when he’s around you, but trained enough to know there’s a time and place. If he had his way you’d never leave his house, but that’s also his protective nature talking.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Likes watch you fall asleep first to make sure you’re safe and sound—a bit paranoid and overprotective in that sense, but he can’t really help it. You’re the best thing that’s happened to him, so it calms him down to know that you’re not going anywhere. Once he’s sure you’re alright he’ll go to sleep, preferably with you on his chest.

#robo writes #x men #x men movies #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #james logan howlett #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #hugh jackman #deadpool and wolverine

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iiwaijime · 1 month

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MY WIFE !! — A. MIYA

SAKUSA VER. || USHIJIMA VER.

IWAIZUMI VER. || AKAASHI VER.

cw; fem reader, swearing, cute cute fluff, pet names ewww, not proofread

wc; 476

in which he calls you his wife.

you're still half asleep when atsumu climbs into bed, kicking the blanket away to nestle into your side. shit. you'd been planning to watch his latest interview live, but apparently you'd failed to stay awake until then. he slides one hand under your loose shirt — his shirt, come to think of it — to hold your waist, and the other comes up to cradle your face. "missed ya, sweets."

"hey," you murmur, letting him angle your head and sponge kisses all over your face. your phone buzzes, but you ignore it in favour of your boyfriend and his addictive attention.

he kisses you again, this time with a smile. "hey, angel."

"sorry, didn't get to watch the interview." one of your hands tangles into his hair as he presses his lips to yours, brief and gentle, before pulling back.

"good, don't then."

you open your eyes. "baby, what?"

"nothing, nothing. just... don't."

your phone vibrates again insistently, and then it clicks. "'tsumu, what'd you do?"

you're reaching over to your phone before he can stop you, unlocking it only to be greeted by at least four hundred notifications from friends, family, and even some people you don't know.

Y/N, YOU'RE MARRIED? [your best friend]

WHYD TSUMU CALL YOU HIS WIFE ON LIVE TV [osamu]

DID I MISS A WEDDING I DIDN'T RIGHT [hinata]

you turn to him. "and what do you have to say about all this?"

despite your calm demeanour, your heart is trying to claw its way out of your chest, and your plans are sweating more than they ever have before. you look down at atsumu, who now has his arms around your middle and his head on your chest. he pouts at you, best puppy eyes equipped. "lemme explain! it was a mistake, cus i was so excited to propose t'ya that i forgot we weren't married! so—"

a strangled little gasp escapes from your throat. the two of you have talked about this before, but you didn't expect that he'd even think of asking this fast. yes, yes, yes, your heart sings. that's when you notice the scandalised expression on atsumu's face as he bolts upright.

"shit, you weren't supposed to hear that," he says. "i'm sorry, i really—"

you cut him off with a kiss, noticing the way he relaxes visibly as it progresses, and when you finally pull away, he blinks at you with a dopey grin — all of the tension from before has disappeared.

"atsumu."

"yeah?"

"i don't care how or when you propose to me, i'll always say yes."

"shit, babe," he sniffles. "don't say that!"

"i'm not joking," you tell him gently. it's a hint, a yes if he wants to take it. "really."

"then will you?"

"will i what?"

"you know."

"oh my god, ask me properly the second time, at least!"

so he does.

a multi part fic series!! taglist is open. updates will be slow!! uhhh comment who u wanna see in the series and i might juuuust yk!! i hate atsumu he plagues my brain ew

tags!! @smiithys

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eddiesghxst · 9 months

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LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACCIÓN - AN EDDIE MUNSON X READER AU

credit for cute lil cut off divider: @cafekitsune

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: eddie munson x pornstar!reader

summary: eddie is short on rent this month and needs quick cash, luckily he stumbles upon an ad for casting in an adult film and finds himself shooting a porno with you

contains: strangers to lovers trope, drug and alcohol use, mentions of smoking, awkward situations, oral (f and m receiving), p in v (unprotected — be safe pls), mentions of people being judgemental of readers line of work, mentions of anal, slightly exhibitionism, lots of smut, a sliver of mechanic!eddie, and eddie being the charming loser he's always been <3

word count: 13.5k (i am so fucking sorry omg)

-masterlist-

Eddie might be way in over his head.

Eddie’s been naked in front of groups of people before (the high school boy's locker room is a scary place to be, honestly), but never in those awful days of forced physical education was Eddie’s dick the center of everyone’s attention.

It’s weird, no doubt about it, standing at the front of a conference room with a table full of producers and writers and whatnot just… ogling Eddie’s naked frame.

“Can you lift your dick, please? So we can see your balls.”

Yeah. This is definitely going at the top of Eddie’s ‘weird things I’ve done for money’ list.

Still, Eddie reaches down and presses his dick up against his lower stomach to give his audience an unrestricted view of his balls.

Jesus.

“Okay, you can put your clothes back on.”

Honestly, Eddie wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for Robert, the manager at Eddie’s job— well, old job.

Robert had some kind of weird fucking vengeance out for Eddie. Maybe it was because Eddie came back high from, like, most of his lunch breaks, but should that really matter if Eddie still got the job done? How coherent do you have to be to organize music records by name? Not very fuckin’ much.

Robert disagreed, though, so he fired Eddie.

Robert was an asshole, though, and whenever Eddie would nicely warn him, ‘Hey, Rob, I’m gonna be out of town next Saturday,’ Robert would still fucking schedule him to close on that exact day!

Good riddance.

Except now, Eddie’s short on rent for the month, which is why he’s found himself standing fully naked in a room full of adult filmmakers.

Eddie’s almost dropped out of this deal ten times by now. He wasn’t sure if he was keen on the idea of his bare, naked body being out for the entire world and future generations to see. But then Eddie thought about it, and, well, he’s got a pretty decent cock. It’s an average size, and it’s not weird looking or anything, and his balls don’t sag— and, like, isn’t his dick primarily the star of the show? Eddie Jr. could pass for a star, Eddie thinks, and so do the people looking at it right now.

And he also really fucking needs the money, so. Porn it is.

Whatever.

Eddie could deal with it as long as he gets enough money to keep a roof over his head. Which reminds him— “Hey, uh, how much will I be getting paid, by the way?”

Eddie’s now fully clothed, car keys in hand, and ready to go now that he’s been dismissed, and he’s scratching the back of his neck as he waits for an answer.

One of the men at the table (Eddie thinks his name is Brian, but he’s not 100% sure) glances up at Eddie from the pile of papers he’d been sorting through, “Eight hundred for the booking and ten percent from the sales.”

Which, yeah, that covers Eddie’s rent. It also leaves a little bit of change in Eddie’s pocket, so “Sweet.” Eddie nods.

So, Eddie follows one of the assistants to her office, where she hands Eddie a file with the word SCRIPT written in bold and red letters, “Read over it, practice the lines a few times, do whatever you need to do to prepare for Friday.” She kindly smiles.

She’s sweet. Short, stout, and pretty, and she has these cute glasses that remind Eddie of a ladybug. Eddie takes the manila folder, bowing his head with a cheesy smile, “Thank you, Emily.”

“So, will I be getting a costume? Do pornos still have those dramatic plots with, like, pirates and shit?” Eddie rambles as he cracks the folder open to take a gander.

Emily snorts, “Sure, but unfortunately, you’re not a pirate for this one,” Eddie glances at her and dramatically pouts, “You will be taking on the role of a neighbor. Pretty simple and easy, not much setup needed, but I’m sure you’ll see that when you read over the script.”

Eddie looked over the script as soon as he got in his van, and Emily was right: there’s not much setup at all. There’s a few cheesy lines, cliche porno shit that definitely gets skipped over, and then they go straight to fucking. Eddie tries to run his lines a few times, but then he fails miserably, so he ends up tossing the script in his passenger seat and making a mental note to look at it later.

How hard can it be?

Apparently pretty fucking hard.

It’s Friday, and Eddie’s a chaotic mess as he walks in through the doors of the film studio. He’d just spent the last 30 minutes in his van trying to practice his lines, but Eddie was never the greatest theater kid, and the lines wouldn’t stick, so he ended up smoking a joint to ease his nerves.

People are bustling around the room, calling out orders and setting up lights, mics, furniture— the whole mile. It’s an entire ordeal that Eddie has walked into, and for a second, Eddie forgets that he’s one of the actual stars when someone walks up to him and says, “You're the new talent?”

“Huh?”

“New talent. Are you the guy we’re filming today?”

Eddie glances around and catches a glimpse of a half-naked girl eyeing him from across the room as a lady fixes her hair for the cameraman. She’s pretty. Gorgeous, actually. Nice body and soft-looking skin that Eddie would like to sink his teeth into and leave pretty little marks.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m Eddie.”

“Good. You’re late.”

Shit. Eddie must’ve lost track of time while practically hacking up a lung in his hotboxed van.

The person drags Eddie to a vanity and nudges him toward the high chair, “You’ll get your hair and makeup done, then we should be rolling in about half an hour.”

It’s jarring, really, seeing the amount of work that goes into the shitty raunchy films Eddie jacks off to, but it’s captivating nonetheless. Eddie can see the movement behind him through the vanity mirror, but he’s more focused on the pretty girl still posing for the camera. If that’s the girl Eddie will be working with, then this will be way easier than Eddie thought it would be because he’s already getting hard. Some might call it pathetic, but oh well.

“Hiya, hon! You the new talent?” A chirpy girl walks up behind Eddie, pearly white teeth and glossed lips working in tandem as she chews her gum and blows a quick bubble. She doesn’t wait for Eddie’s response as she digs her fingers into Eddie’s curly strands, tossing and gently pulling them about to see what she’s working with.

Her name is Nicki. She’s friendly and very talkative; Eddie comes to learn, because for the majority of the time that she’s working on Eddie’s hair, her mouth is running nonstop. Eddie doesn’t mind, though; honestly, it helps to take his mind off of whatever the fuck he’s gotten himself into.

Emily, the assistant from earlier, walks up to the vanity, her cute ladybug glasses slipping down her nose as she steps into Eddie’s view— and Eddie is happy to see a familiar and kind face. “Will you be needing a fluffer?”

Eddie blinks, eyes fluttering when the hairstylist dusts his bangs over his lashes, “Uh— a what now?”

Nicki loudly pops her gum as she shakes a can of hairspray, “A fluffer, honey. Someone to jack you off and get you ready for the scene.”

Eddie’s eyes widened for a split second, and he made the mistake of glancing over at the girl who was still modeling across the room. Her tits are out now, and they’re perfect, and she catches Eddie’s eyes for the second time, and it makes his already stiffened cock stir within his pants.

Eddie shakes his head as he looks back at Emily, his voice higher when he responds, “No, I uh… I think I’m good.”

Which, duh. Eddie's dick is practically breaking the seams of his jeans because of the pretty girl, and it’s only getting worse because now she’s walking toward him dressed in a white robe. “You must be Eddie.”

Eddie’s surprised you know his name, but then he figures, obviously, you must know his name given the fact that you’re about to let him swing his dick near you. “That’s me,” Eddie smiles, “You must be… I’m sorry nobody’s told me anything.” He awkwardly laughs.

You nod with a shrug and tell him your name, “Is this your first time filming?” You ask.

Eddie nods, “Is it that obvious?” He nervously asks. You shrug, “Most guys in the industry need more than a pair of tits to get that hard.” You nod towards Eddie’s crotch— and oh god. How embarrassing! She knows you were checking her out!

“No need to be embarrassed though, Eddie. Pretty soon, you’ll be shoving your cock down my throat, so.”

Eddie’s cock may have gotten harder from those words alone.

“A rookie? Seriously, Don?”

Your makeup is being done, so you don’t see how your manager rolls her eyes at you. “When I said I wanted someone fresh, I didn’t mean never-been-under-the-camera fresh.”

The makeup artist finishes with your touch-ups, and you take the opportunity to turn to Don and glare at her, “He doesn’t know what he’s doing, Don.”

The older lady waves a dismissive hand, “He’ll do just fine, babe,” she deadpans. You shake your head, turning to look at the man of the hour. He’s attractive; you’ll give him that. Tall, pretty curly hair, sweet brown eyes, a panty-dropping voice. Sure, he’s attractive, okay. But he’s got no clue how to do this type of thing. Clearly— I mean, you’re literally watching him gaze down at the dildos that have been lined up for you as if he’s never seen one in his life— which you doubt. If he knew how to find an adult filmmaking studio, then he’s definitely seen some fucking dildos.

You suppress a laugh when he accidentally drops a glass dildo, turning back to your manager as you ignore his chorus of apologies to the staff, “My case in point.”

Don fails to hold back a laugh, “So he’s a little off the walls,” she shrugs, “He’s cute though. And his dick is nice. Trust me.”

And, well, she’s not wrong.

Don’s never been one to lie without reason, so unfortunately, Eddie’s cock is nice. Pretty, even. Which is weird because after some time being in this industry, the thrill of a nice-looking cock has gotten lost on you because they practically all look the same— just different shades of colors, really.

But Eddie’s cock is nice in the sense that it’s real. He’s not shot up with steroids to make it overly veiny and big or cleanly shaved or any of that superficial camera-ready shit. No, Eddie is natural. He’s got neatly trimmed curly hairs across his pelvis that smell like his body wash when you nuzzle your nose against it, and he’s big enough to wrap your hand around, but you know the second he pushes inside of you, it will be a nice stretch. He’s cut, and he has a slight curve to the left, and he’s so sensitive his cock jumps when you tap the pearly white drop that leaks from his tip. You giggle, shuffling forward on your knees as you stroke him.

You’re already done with the opening scene, finally. Eddie couldn’t remember any of his lines, so it took a lot longer than it should’ve, but you think it was worth it either way because the way Eddie moans when you finally wrap your lips around his tip is the prettiest sound you think you’ve ever heard.

“F-fuck,” He quietly curses, hips shifting as you swallow more of him. He sinks a slightly shaking hand into your hair, gently cupping your head as you work your mouth over him. Your eyes flutter to gaze up at him, and your stomach flutters at the cocky grin he gives you. “You’ve got such a good little mouth on you, sweetheart. Gonna let me fuck it?”

You hum and nod as best as you can with his cock in your mouth, and he hums, “Open up for me, baby.”

You shift on your knees, finding a comfortable position for the action before blinking up at Eddie, indicating you’re ready. Eddie’s hands are steady and certain as he cups both sides of your head, holding you still as he draws his cock out once before slowly thrusting in until your throat tightens around his tip.

He fills your mouth so perfectly, just enough to where you won’t get bored, but you also won’t get an overly aching jaw, and you can’t wait to feel him inside you. Can’t wait to feel how his cock twitches when he first nestles deep in your walls or how much better the sounds he makes will be.

It’s a nice feeling, having Eddie fuck your mouth, and you usually don’t care much for shots like this because most of the time, it’s either underwhelming or overwhelming, but Eddie fucks your throat in a sense that’s dirty yet so caring. He’s spewing out filthy praises, and you're drooling onto his balls, but he’s looking at you with these soft brown eyes and caressing you so gently you might quiver. Fuck, you really wanted to hate him.

Behind the camera, the director makes a motion for you to cut to the next action, but since your back is to them, Eddie is the one that sees it and gently coaxes you off from his cock, cooing when you let out the smallest whine that only he can hear. He smiles, thumb running beneath your swollen lip to catch the strings of spit and cum, “What? You liked having me down your throat, sweet girl?”

You mewl, pressing your chin into his palm as you nod.

"Yeah. Want it, please?" You whisper. God, you didn’t expect to be fucked out within the first scene. "Aw, maybe next time, princess. You can keep me warm as long as you'd like."

It’s almost embarrassing, how much you like the sound of that and how it makes your tummy flip, but you don’t have much time to think about it because Eddie’s ushering you up from the floor to climb onto the couch and straddle his lap.

You’re both bare now, and when Eddie had first taken his shirt off, you wanted nothing more than to run your hands down his graffitied chest, but you were too busy sinking to your knees. But now you have the chance, and boy, do you fucking take it.

You marvel as you coast your hands across Eddie’s body, fingertips gliding through fields of inked stories and vast skin. His breath hitches when you graze over his nipples, and his hips shift beneath you, wet cock slipping against your sticky folds. You whimper, grinding down onto him, and he curses as he grabs ahold of your hips. “Y’like them?” He sweetly asks, referring to his tattoos.

"Yeah," you nod, grinding down harder to have his cock nestled between your folds, his ruddy tip nudging your clit. “I can tell you all about them if you want.”

You giggle at his timing, but before you can respond, a director speaks up from the side, “Less talking, please.”

Eddie glances over your shoulder and salutes the man, “Roger that, sir.”

You can’t help but snort at his actions, but you’re quickly hushed when Eddie reaches down to paint his cock between your folds before lining himself up, “Go ahead and sit on it, baby.” He whispers.

You listen, nuzzling your face against his shoulder as you wriggle yourself down the length of his cock.

And god, you love being fucking right. The stretch is so good, better than you had imagined it to be, and you can’t help the high-pitched moan that slips from your lips when Eddie thrusts up into you.

"O-oh. Oh fuck," You whimper. You’re practically boneless as Eddie fucks you, your entire body just draped over him as his hands dig into your ass to help bounce you on his cock. “Jesus fucking— you feel so good,” He pants, and you mewl, cunt clenching around his cock as he drills up into you. “You gonna cum for me, hm? Be my best girl and cum for me. I know you’ll sound so pretty.” He whispers.

Before you know it, you’re moaning out and writhing in Eddie’s hold, juices dripping down his cock and forming a sticky mess in the patch of curls at his base as you cum.

“Let’s have a shot from the back.”

Your body feels weightless as you and Eddie change positions so you’re on all fours. You’re blinking through a hazy fog, and it feels so good. Eddie’s hands send chills up your spine as they grip your waist and tug you towards him.

“Oh, baby, you’re shaking,” Eddie hums, running his hands over the fat of your ass, thumbs digging into the skin to spread you open. You’re so wet you can hear the sticky noise of your folds parting, and Eddie groans as he watches your pussy clench around nothing. “You open up so well for me, sweet girl.”

Jesus.

You don’t get much of a warning before you feel Eddie lapping and sucking at your cunt, devouring you until you’re nothing but a mess of moans and quivering limbs.

Jesus Christ, that wasn’t in the fucking script. Half of the shit Eddie’s doing isn’t in the fucking script, and it's making your head spin.

God, who is this man?

You whimper his name, reaching a shaky hand back to grapple at his hair, and Eddie nuzzles his face deeper into your cunt, nose nudging your ass in a way that makes your toes curl. He’s good. He’s really good, you’ll give him that.

You and Eddie go at it for about an hour, switching positions and pausing every now and then to get a good shot of your cunt wrapped around Eddie’s cock, or Eddie’s tongue lapping over your clit or tits.

And it's fun doing this with Eddie.

Eddie is like a breath of fresh air. Most guys in this industry are stuck up and make things annoyingly serious, and most girls are either bitchy or just want to get it over with, which you don’t blame them for.

But Eddie makes things feel so normal— like you’re just two best friends getting filmed having sex— because he keeps whispering tiny jokes to make you giggle. He tells you how pretty you sound and look, and he’s so incredibly clueless because he keeps leaning in and asking things like, “Is this, like, a good angle for the camera?” and “Should I maybe kiss you more?” and “Is it okay if I stop fucking you for a second? Because I’m about to blow.”

And all you can do is breathlessly moan and nod because he’s plunging himself so deep into you that it almost hurts, but it’s so good.

You’re so fucked out you barely even register Eddie’s words when he tells you he’s about to cum, but your body immediately reacts when he pats your hip, indicating for you to get ready.

You scramble down from the couch, limbs weighted from pleasure as you settle on your knees, batting your lashes up at Eddie as he towers over you, stroking his wet cock. Eddie rests a hand on your head, fingers grasping your hair to keep you still as he gazes down at you. You’re impatient, so you can’t help but let yourself sneakily lick the tip of his cock, and he grins, “It’s coming, precious girl. Stick your tongue out for me.”

You shuffle closer, sticking your tongue out as you eagerly await the taste of Eddie on your tongue— and when you get it, god, you never want it to stop. Everything about it is perfect: the way his face twists up, the way he tastes, the pretty moans he lets out. You want it on repeat.

You might buy this film just to relive it.

You take every last drop Eddie has to give you with a happy hum; a little bit catches your lip, and Eddie swipes it with his thumb before bringing it to his mouth and suckling. You whine, frowning and causing Eddie to laugh, “You got most of it, sweetheart. Can’t be too greedy, can you?”

It’s like you’re both in your own world. Only talking to each other and enjoying each other's bodies because Eddie just… it’s weird, but he makes the room go away. He makes things feel less performative— and maybe it’s just your hazy, blissed-out state of mind, but you think you might like Eddie.

You’re snapped from your trance when the director yells cut, and then everyone’s springing into action to tear down the set because another crew will be using it next. Eddie helps you stand on your wobbly legs, “You alright?”

You nod, “Great. You did good, by the way.”

Eddie leans forward and grabs your robe that had been pushed to the side. He smiles as he holds it open for you, “Thank you. You did pretty awesome yourself.” He responds as you slink your arms through the sleeves.

You turn to Eddie as you close your robe and tie it shut. Your assistant, Emily, hands Eddie a robe for himself, and he thanks her, curtly bowing his head as he grabs the plush article. “So,” Eddie starts as he slips on the robe. You both start walking towards the dressing rooms as he speaks, “Think I could make a career for myself here?” He asks.

You halt at that, turning to Eddie with a confused look, “Is that… is that not why you’re here?” You ask.

Eddie shakes his head as he ties his robe, “Nah, I got fired from my job. Needed some cash for rent this month.” He explains.

Is it selfish to say you’re disappointed to hear this? If Eddie had been wanting to join this industry, you would’ve had the opportunity to work with him again. But maybe it’s more selfish to say you’re happy he isn’t joining this industry. Eddie becoming an adult film star would mean half of the time, he’d be fucking other people, and unfortunately, that idea alone makes your gut twist with jealousy.

You nod, pursing your lips as you fiddle with your fingers, “Well… would you be interested in this type of thing?” You try your best to sound casual about it, and you think it works because Eddie only shrugs again with a short hum, “I don’t know. Wouldn’t be opposed to it, I guess.”

Before you can respond, Emily calls your name, “Don needs to speak with you in the other room about your next shoot.”

You turn back to Eddie and try to commit his pretty brown eyes to memory, “I guess I’ll see you around, Eddie.” You smile. Eddie smiles back and does somewhat of a dramatic bow, and you snort as you walk off.

You glance over your shoulder as you walk with Emily.

“Could you do me a favor?” You ask her. Emily nods, and you take one last glance at Eddie before he disappears into the dressing room.

“Get his number for me. And leave it in my purse, please.”

A couple of weeks have passed since Eddie made his big debut in the film world.

Eddie made a pretty penny from that film, enough to pay his rent and have some play money on the side. Thankfully, Eddie doesn’t have to scramble for cash this month again because he got a job at the mechanic shop downtown. It’s a lot of labor and a lot of hours, but the pay is good, and nobody gives a shit if Eddie comes back from lunch smelling like a dispensary, so.

Suck that, Robert.

However, Eddie’s still thoroughly surprised to see you sitting in the shop office when he returns from a quick smoke break. “Woah, funny seeing you here. Car problems?” He questions. Eddie tries not to think about the fact that he’s seen you completely bare before. Tries not to think of how he’d spent over an hour in your guts last month or how you swallowed his load like it was nothing. Eddie fails miserably.

You shake your head as you stand up from the leather couch in the office, grabbing your purse as Eddie walks closer to you, “No, actually, Lola’s doing great.”

Eddie cocks his head, “Lola?”

You nod, “My car.” You gesture out towards the window where your car is parked. Eddie makes an understanding noise as he nods.

“I was actually hoping to talk to you.”

Eddie pauses at that, confusion settling over his body as he looks at you. You’re beautiful, kind, soft eyes with soft, pretty lips that Eddie thinks about kissing when he goes to bed. Eddie points to himself with raised eyebrows, “Me?”

You nod again, “Yeah, about like… my job and stuff.”

Oh.

Ohhhh.

“Oh, shit, yeah, um,” Eddie glances around the office and nods, “Yeah, we can step out and talk, like, in my van, maybe?” He offers. Not because he’s, like, ashamed to talk about porn or something, most people watch it! But a few of the guys that work here are downright dipshits, and Eddie won’t hesitate to punch one of them if they say some sly shit about you or your job. And, well, Eddie would like to keep his job, so.

You don’t take offense to it, though; you just nod with your pretty smile and tell Eddie to lead the way.

Eddie’s van smells like weed, cologne, and a hint of whatever he had for lunch.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles as he clears off the passenger seat that’s filled with bottles of different drinks, rolling papers, food wrappers, and things of the like. “She’s seen better days.”

You smile nonetheless, thanking him when he steps away and holds the door open for you. You hop into the seat, glancing around as Eddie shuts your door and jogs to the driver's seat.

He gets in with a heavy sigh, hair unruly from the wind, brown eyes wide and excited when he looks at you. “Hey.” He huffs with a smile, and there’s a piece of hair in Eddie’s bangs that’s sticking straight up. “Hey.” You giggle, reaching out to fix the rebellious strand. Eddie softly thanks you, and you swear you see a hint of pink dust across his cheeks.

He shifts in his seat, rubbing his hands against his thighs as he sighs again, “So… what’s up?”

God, he’s so cute. So incredibly weird and awkward and cute. He looks handsome in his navy blue coveralls, grease stains smeared across his torso, and some sneaky smudges on his neck. “You’re very hard to get ahold of, you know?” You tease.

Eddie’s face twists in confusion, “Huh?”

You shrug, distracting yourself by poking around at his dashboard, sifting through the CDs and tapes he has lying about. Eddie doesn’t stop you; he only watches, and you give him a cheeky smile. “My assistant got your number, right? But then you, like, never answered my calls.” You shrug as you flip through more of his things. You hear Eddie mumble something about needing a new cord for his home phone before he asks louder, " So, how’d you find me?”

God, he must think you’re a stalker or something. You didn’t really think that through, honestly.

You hum, “Just asked around a bit. You’re a bit of a hot commodity around here, by the way. Heard you started a cult? What’s that about?”

Eddie’s eyes widen at your words, and you laugh, “Oh god. Jesus, no, I didn’t start a cult. I just,” he groans as he pinches the bridge of his nose, “I was just weird in high school.”

“You’re still weird.”

Eddie’s face falters at your words, but you smile as you add, “I like it.”

Eddie blushes again, but he turns to look away this time, and you think he’s the cutest thing you’ve ever set your eyes upon. He turns back to you with a shy grin, “Did you come here just to flirt with me?” He teases, wrapping a strand of his hair around his finger to twirl in a shy manner. “Maybe… but I also have a question.” You respond.

Eddie nods, “Shoot.”

You take a deep breath as you shift in your seat, “Well, uh, I wanted to ask if you maybe…” You glance at Eddie, who's expectantly awaiting your question, and your stomach twists with nerves. Why are you so nervous to ask Eddie for something you’ve already done before?

“Well, I’m doing a shoot tomorrow,” you finally begin, “And I just found out the guy they paired me with is, like, a total asshole— I’ve worked with him before, he’s just… awful,” You explain. “So, I was just… I don’t know; I was just wondering— hoping— you’d be up for it, maybe? To take the guy's place, I mean.”

You finish rambling and glance at Eddie as his eyes widen, “Oh, um. Like— like, film with you again?”

Eddie could leap for joy right now.

Not only are you, like, the cutest, prettiest, kindest fucking human being to ever grace this earth, but you’re sitting in Eddie’s van, chewing on your lip and asking Eddie to fuck you for the cameras again.

Eddie must’ve done something incredibly right in his past life.

“Oh!” Eddie starts, “ Um… yeah, I’d love to!” What? Weird, take that back. “No, I mean, like, not in a weird way. I just— I’d rather not let the asshole do it if I can do it.”

God, could Eddie sound any more pathetic?

Still, despite how dumb Eddie sounds, you smile and clasp your hands together, “Oh, are you sure? I know it’s last minute, and it’s not really the ideal task—”

“Woah, wait. What do you mean not the ideal task?”

Because literally, what do you mean? How could that not be the ideal task? And who made you think that fucking you isn’t the ideal task? If it’s that asshole you were supposed to work with, then Eddie has a few colorful things to say about and to him.

You shrug, fiddling with your fingers in your lap, “Nothing, I just know my job isn’t… you know, traditional or whatever. And you had only done it that one time because you needed it, so I get it if you’re, like, not in the mood to fuck on camera for a bunch of random people.” You ramble. Which, uh, no. You could not be further from the truth. Eddie would love to fuck you on camera for a bunch of random people. Hell, Eddie would love to fuck you under any consensual circumstance, if he’s being honest, so. Yeah, he’s pretty excited.

“No,” Eddie shakes his head, “No, I— I want to, really, I do.” Eddie nods.

Your unsure frown spreads into the prettiest smile before you reach across the center console to pull Eddie into the most bone-crushing, you-scented, chest-warming hug Eddie’s ever been given as you spew out a chorus of thank yous.

“I brought a copy of the script for you to look over so you’re not totally confused,” Eddie watches as you pull back to reach into your bag and pull out a manilla folder. “I usually like to color coordinate my scripts, so I did it for you too. The pink is me, and the red is you, and the specific actions they want us to do are in blue.” You point out. And Eddie thinks he might kiss you right now— you’re so fucking cute!

“Wow, thanks, um… I wish I were, like… good with these types of things, but I think you saw how majestic I am with scripts.” Eddie huffs out a laugh as he scratches the back of his neck. You smile, “I can help you— if you’d like.”

Oh, you’re trying to kill Eddie at this rate.

Eddie nods either way, even though he’s six feet underground and knocking at the fiery gates. “I would love that, actually. I finish work in about three hours if you’re free.”

Eddie definitely broke a handful of laws while driving home.

Since you offered to help Eddie with his lines, you both decided to meet at Eddie’s place. He gave you his address, told you how to get into the complex, and said see you later. Now, Eddie is ecstatic to see you, obviously, but Eddie can’t remember if his home looked normal or like a Walmart clearance aisle after black Friday, so he ran through multiple stop signs and red lights to get home before you showed up so he could clear things up.

He’s hustling through his apartment like a madman, picking up strewn clothes and cat toys before speeding through the few dishes he had in his sink. Honestly, Eddie’s apartment has seen worse days, so there’s not much cleaning he has to do, but he’s still stressed when he hears a knock on the door.

Eddie doesn’t even like candles, but he lit one just in case there’s a smell he’s grown used to lingering about. Eddie just doesn’t want you to think he’s a slob. Because he isn’t. He just has an orchestrated chaotic lifestyle.

Eddie couldn’t be happier when he opened his door because there you were, beaming with a smile and a bag of takeout, and Eddie thought it wasn’t normal to be this soft for someone you’d basically just met.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Eddie dramatically bows with an extended hand to show the entrance of his small, homey apartment. You smile as you walk in, taking in your surroundings.

It’s nothing extraordinary, honestly. Eddie’s home is really just vomit of everything Eddie likes: favorite colors, favorite movies, favorite game characters, etc. It’s like Eddie’s brain exploded and painted itself all over the place. Eddie had a girlfriend many moons ago, and she changed things around to become more coordinated, so now it’s less of a shit show and more of an abstract museum sort of thing.

Whatever. Doesn’t matter anyway because you’re gasping and picking up the little roommate Eddie has.

“Who’s this?” You coo at the little creature. You’re looking down at the furball as you scratch behind her ear, “That,” Eddie sighs, “Is the reason why I didn’t get your calls.”

You look up at Eddie, confusion written across your face. Eddie points across the room to the wall where his home phone hangs, except the wire is broken. “Little asshole chewed through the wire, and I’ve been slow to replace it. Her name is Banshee.”

The cat meows at the mention of her name, wide eyes blinking up at Eddie as you coddle her. She’s a fluffy cat with a black coat decorated with two white spots: one on her back and the other just behind her ear.

You hum, “So technically,” You drag, “It’s your fault.” You tease. You coo as you press your cheek to the tiny kitten, gazing up at Eddie with these soft eyes, “I don’t think you can blame this cutie for your laziness.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, wills away whatever power he has to not kiss you, and gently takes the takeout bag from your hands so you have less to carry. “Fine then. Ask her what happened to the laces of my work shoes, too, since she’s so innocent.”

Eddie’s home is so… Eddie.

He’s got music and horror movie posters framed along his walls, cute little scary figurines randomly placed within his bookshelves, and there’s an overall smell of Eddie’s musk and the sandalwood candle he has burning. It’s cozy, a nice space for one person who enjoys their alone time, and he let you choose a record to play from his extensive collection, and he has the world's cutest little cat, so it’s safe to say you could spend an eternity in Eddie’s world.

“Shit, that wasn’t my line,” Eddie stresses. You smile as Eddie tosses the packet onto his coffee table and falls back onto the couch, “We’re wasting our time here, princess. I dropped out of theater for a reason.” He grumbles.

You sigh, tilting your head against the couch cushion as you gaze at Eddie, “You’re thinking too hard about it.” You say. “It’s a porno, not a Grammy-nominated film.” You point out.

Eddie snorts before giving a short shrug, “For the record, I think you could land a Grammy, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, right. You don’t need to suck up to me, Eddie, you’re already gonna fuck me tomorrow.” You jokingly say.

Eddie waves you off and shifts into a more comfortable position. “So,” He starts, “What’s the asshole guy's deal?”

Banshee has hopped onto the couch and made her way into your lap, tiny paws kneading the material of your jeans as she settles. You gently pet her as you glance at Eddie and shrug, “Not sure, he’s just a total dick,” You grumble. “I worked with him once last year, and he, like, told me I wasn’t the best or whatever— which, okay, I can totally understand,” You ramble, “I don’t think I’m, like, some sex god. I don’t expect to be everyone or anyone’s best fuck, but still! It just… it didn’t make me feel good, the way he said it.” You windedly explain. You distract yourself with the cute animal in your lap as you finish your explanation, “So, I asked my manager never to pair us again, but—” You shrug.

Next to you, Eddie shifts once more and scoffs. “He’s a fucking shitfaced liar, princess.”

You snort, playfully rolling your eyes, “Eddie—” “No, I’m serious. He’s a liar. Anybody who even gets the chance to touch you is a lucky fucker, okay? If anything, he probably begged your manager to let him work with you again.”

“You’re just saying that. I don’t need you to try and make me feel better, and it was so long ago anyway.” “Yeah, but that’s the thing, I’m not.”

You frown as you gaze over at Eddie, watching as he sits straight and looks at you with a serious gaze in his eyes. “I don’t know what’s up with that guy, maybe he was dropped as a baby too many times, but anybody with common sense and a properly functioning dick knows just how fucking amazing you are. End of discussion.”

And well, it’s pathetic how your chest warms at his words, but it does. And as Eddie goes on to ramble about his hectic week at work, you can’t help but let your mind spin with Eddie’s kind words until nothing is in your mind but the echoes of Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

Not many times has Eddie woken up with a girl in his home. Well, at least not a girl that he’s actually liked for more than a one-night stand or a shortly-lived fling.

After running the script for the last time, Eddie suggested putting on a movie and digging into the takeout you’d brought. The meal was delicious, and the movie you’d landed on was hilarious, but it’s hard to keep your eyes open on a full stomach, so when Eddie felt your head drop onto his shoulder, he couldn’t help but let his body sink into the couch and fall asleep too.

You’d woken up about an hour later and tried to make your escape quietly, but Eddie insisted you shouldn’t drive in such a sleepy state, so he let you make yourself comfy in his bed. Banshee, the little traitor, trotted right behind you and left Eddie on the couch to snuggle up beside you for the night.

You’re cute in the morning, Eddie thinks. You have an adorable little pout, and you yawn about 80 times until you’ve had a sip of coffee.

It takes nearly a lifetime to drag you away from Banshee so you and Eddie can head to the studio because you adore the little asshole, and Banshee loves anything that’ll give her the time of day. You make Eddie promise to let you see her again, though, so you sadly say goodbye with a soft peck to the fluffy area between her eyes and let Eddie drag you to his van.

The car ride is nice; Eddie lets you mess around with the contents of his van and go through the stack of CDs he’s compiled over the years. You land on one of Eddie’s favorites, an old mixtape Wayne made in college that Eddie spent most of his high school blaring loud enough to blow out a speaker.

Today, you’re shooting in a house— a nice one that Eddie could only conjure up in his dreams—but he doesn’t have much time to dwell on it because he’s being dragged over to makeup and hair as soon as he steps in.

“You thinking of joining the industry?” Nicki asks as she works a nice-smelling mousse into Eddie’s hair.

Eddie had been busy watching you talk to one of the producers, but he finds the strength to tear his eyes away and gaze at Nicki through the vanity mirror. “No, not exactly. Just… doing a favor for a friend, I guess.”

Nicki raises an eyebrow, “A friend? Don’t act like I didn’t see you two come in together.”

Eddie’s face warms at that, the tips of his ears turning red as he stutters, “Huh?”

Nicki looks at Eddie with a ‘Don’t bullshit me’ look.

“I mean, like, yeah, we had breakfast together–” “Mhm.”

Eddie huffs out a gentle laugh, “No, really, we’re friends.”

“Friends that fuck on camera and look at each other the way you two do? Sure.”

Eddie doesn’t ask what Nicki means by that because— well, he knows what Nicki means by that. He’s caught himself looking at you like you put the stars in the sky one too many times, and it’s almost embarrassing. Almost.

But can you blame Eddie? Can you really blame him when you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, the softest smile, the greatest laugh, and the sweetest personality? It’s not Eddie’s fault that you’re perfect.

Eddie just thinks you’re neat.

He thinks you’re amazing, actually, and it’s hard to remember his fucking lines when you’re standing under a steaming shower, wet body glistening and pebbled nipples practically begging for his mouth.

He’s butchering the script, that’s for sure, but he figures it’s not too bad since nobody’s corrected him.

The scene starts with you taking a shower and Eddie being a peeping tom, which ultimately leads to Eddie sinking to his knees and licking into you until you’re a quivering, sticky mess on his tongue. Eddie would spend forever on his knees, between your legs, if he could because you taste heavenly and sound better than any song Eddie’s ever listened to, and that says something.

Your fingers thread through the wet strands of Eddie’s hair, and Eddie rapidly blinks when he gazes up at you, only to get an eyeful of his wispy bangs. You smile, petting back his bangs so he can see, and he hums, nudging his face further against you, his tongue teasing more, fingers curling deeper.

It doesn’t take long to make you cum, and the second you do, Eddie is standing up, shutting off the shower, and ushering you out into the expansive main bathroom. It’s almost as if it’s just Eddie and you in the room. No cameras, no directors or producers, or that weird pervy lighting guy that compliments you way too fucking much for Eddie’s liking. It’s just you and Eddie.

“Let’s do an over-the-counter shot next.”

Fuck. It’s not just you two, actually.

What a buzz kill.

Either way, Eddie finds himself pressing your wet, naked waist down against the sink, smiling when you squeal at the cold marble touching your skin. “Stick your ass out, baby, let me see that gorgeous ass.”

You mewl as you follow Eddie’s instructions, tipping your hips back to present yourself to him and the cameras. You’re dripping. Swollen and wet and throbbing, and Eddie— god, Eddie feels like a fucking animal.

“Got such a pretty pussy, honey. All wet and ready for me, hm?” He teases, gently running his fingers through the sticky arousal between your legs. You shakily breathe as you nod your head, “Yeah. All for you. Please.”

Eddie steps forward, grabbing his cock and painting it between your swollen lips as he hooks his other arm across your shoulders, pulling you back to press against his chest. He presses a wet kiss to the skin of your cheek in front of your ear, voice dry and needy as he whispers in your ear, “You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” His eyes catch yours in the mirror as you keen. “Ask me to fuck you.”

You whimper out loud, wriggling your hips back into his as your hands grip the counter, “P-please fuck me. Please. Need it so bad, want your cock so bad I— o-oh.”

The slide to home base is fucking otherworldly. It was life-changing the first time, and it’s life-changing now, and if Eddie ever gets the chance to fuck you again, he knows it’ll be life-changing then.

You’re so warm, and you're sucking Eddie’s cock in so nicely, so sinfully, that Eddie almost makes a deal with the devil right then and there. Your chest is heaving by the time Eddie’s pelvis presses to your bum, his cock nestled deep into your pulsing cunt. Eddie leans forward, pressing his chest against your back as he loops an arm around your shoulders, holding you tight to him as he gives one slow thrust. He coos when your eyes flutter shut, and your jaw drops, a shaky hand reaching up to sink your nails into Eddie’s forearm.

“S-so deep,” You slur, wriggling your hips back against Eddie.

Eddie grunts, “Fuck. You feel so good, baby. Always so warm and ready for me, hm?” Eddie’s lips are wet against your jaw as he whispers into your ear, and you nod with a mewl.

Eddie works up the pace relatively fast in favor of the cameras, and at some point, he reaches down to grip the thick of your thigh and haul your leg up to rest on the counter so you’re spread open even more. The angle makes it easier for him to catch your spot, and it’s better for the camera to capture the sight of your soaking pussy wrapped around Eddie’s cock, dribbling onto both of your thighs and creating a sticky ring of arousal at the base of Eddie’s dick.

Eddie’s hand is wrapped around your throat when you begin twitching around him, mumbling promises of your climax, and Eddie doesn’t waste time in sinking his hand between your legs to help you reach the edge quicker. Your moans fall silent, eyes squeezed shut, and jaw dropped wide open as Eddie fucks you through your orgasm— and fuck, you feel so good. Squeezing and pulsing and dripping around Eddie’s thighs, throat vibrating beneath his palm when air comes back to you.

“There we go, baby. Get it all out, push it out, honey.” Eddie encourages you.

You’re shaking, trembling like a leaf in Eddie’s arms, and Eddie wants to spend forever tucked into your pussy, warm skin sticky against him, pretty little whines and mewls coating his brain in this cutesy pink fog that makes him want to fucking marry you.

Get you a home, give you his babies, maybe even get you a fucking dog and just live happily goddamn ever.

Jesus, Eddie’s a goner.

“F-fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Eddie pulls out last second, jerking himself off between your cute ass cheeks until he’s spurting white ropes of cum up your back.

Eddie, ever the considerate man he is, pushes your hair out of the way to avoid getting any of his sticky release in it. You’re breathing heavily, pretty eyes glazed over as you glance back at Eddie, a shy glint in your eyes at the sight of your skin painted in his cum.

Eddie’s obsessed with you now, no doubt.

His ringed fingers slide through the sticky mess on your skin as he grips your ass cheeks, gently spreading them apart and humming when you arch your back, proudly swaying your ass in front of him. The sight makes Eddie dizzy; pools of cum dripping down your back to slink its way through your ass and over your sticky folds. “You’ve got such a cute little hole, baby.” Eddie compliments, taking his thumb and smearing his cum over the puckered muscle, softly laughing when you whine.

He lightly slaps your ass then, reaching forward to gently grasp your face with his messy hands and pull you back to press a firm kiss over your lips. His thumb, the one that had smeared his cum over your tight hole, sinks between your moving lips, pushing into your mouth and onto your tongue as he whispers a small command to taste it, and you mewl.

“So good, princess—”

“Cut!”

You both jolt at the booming voice, getting rudely snapped out of the daze you’d fallen into.

These fucking cameras.

You smile, dropping your cheek onto your shoulder as you bat your eyelashes up at Eddie from over your shoulder, “You’re a natural, Eddie, you know that?”

Eddie huffs a laugh, thanking the assistant when they bring you towels and robes.

“Well,” He breathes as he slinks the robe over his shoulders, watching as you do the same, “I’ve got the best coach.” He winks.

Now that you and Eddie have done two films together and basically had a sleepover, you’re practically inseparable.

It’s funny, really. Eddie thought maybe the fact that you’ve seen each other bare and had sex on camera might hinder the aspect of any friendly connection because, well, Eddie’s never done this before! He’s not a pornstar, so he’s not sure how the friendship/relationship aspect of it works, but luckily, it’s easier than most normal friendships Eddie’s had before.

You talk almost every night over the phone (Eddie finally fixed the wire), going over one another’s day and laughing at embarrassing or funny moments. You go on for hours until either one of you falls asleep, and it’s usually you since Eddie has the sleep schedule of a newborn baby who doesn’t know the difference between night and day. All the better for him, though, because he gets to poke fun at you the next day and tease you about how you sometimes snore.

And Eddie loves listening to you talk— could spend hours cuddled up with Banshee as he listens to you ramble on about whatever new show you’re watching or the latest gossip at work. It’s Eddie’s favorite part of his day, talking to you, so he kicks himself when he realizes he forgot to call you last night.

He’s getting ready for bed when he remembers, and he practically sprints to his phone on his nightstand and dials your number in less than thirty seconds. It takes you three rings to answer, and Eddie smiles at the sound of your voice, “Hello?”

“Hi, princess,” Eddie responds.

You gasp, “Eddie, hi! Oh, I was just about to call you! Where have you been?” You ask. Eddie groans, dropping back onto his mattress with spread arms. “Working. I’m so sorry I forgot to call. I just started a new schedule at the shop, and the hours are awful.”

Eddie can hear your frown when you respond, “Bummer. I’ve got a way to cheer you up, though.”

Eddie’s eyes are closed, and sleep is so heavy in his bones he feels like he’s sinking through the mattress, but he smiles as if it’s second nature when he responds, “Hit me.”

You cheer, and Eddie hears the rustling of grocery bags on your end as you speak, “My manager gave me a shit ton of holiday chocolates she had left over, and well, I was wondering if you’d like to drown yourself in sugar with me?”

Eddie softly laughs, folding his arm to rest his hand on his tummy as he nods, forgetting you can’t see. “You didn’t even have to ask.”

The drive from your flat to Eddie’s is typically around twenty minutes, but with the benefit of it being nearly midnight and most normal people being in bed by now, you’re knocking on Eddie’s door in just a little under twelve minutes.

Eddie opens the door to let you in and immediately just wants to kiss you. You’re dressed in an oversized sweatshirt, loose pajama pants with cute little ducks printed on them, and fluffy house slippers. You grin up at Eddie as you lift a bag full of candy, “I come bearing gifts!”

Eddie had been exhausted all day, but now that he’s had two handfuls of sugary treats, he’s ready to run a fucking marathon.

He’s sucking on a sour apple jawbreaker and watching some shitty romcom with Banshee curled in his lap when he feels your head softly drop onto his shoulder. He glances down at you and sees the soft flutter of your eyes, “Are you tired? You can take my bed.” He offers.

You tilt your head to blink up at him tiredly, “Will you come with me?”

And well, Eddie was originally going to take the couch, but you’re looking up at him with these cute, bleary eyes, and Eddie can’t even imagine saying no. So, he shuts his TV off, makes a mental note to clean up the candy wrappers sometime tomorrow, and lets you drag him off to his room.

Banshee decided to take advantage of the new space on the couch and sprawl out, so Eddie doesn’t have to worry about asking if you’re okay with her cuddling up on his bed like she usually does.

Eddie doesn’t do this very often— sleep with other people in his bed, he means. And sure, he’s had partners before that would stay the night here and there, but he hasn’t had that in over a year now, so it’s safe to say that Eddie’s a little bit nervous.

He doesn’t know if you want to be close, but considering how cuddly you are on a daily basis, he’s not surprised when you press yourself into his side with a content sigh, snuggling deeper into the warm covers. He turns, shifting to wrap his arms around your frame, trying his best to ignore the fast beating of his heart in his chest— but that’s not the main issue. The bigger problem is— “Eddie? Are you hard?”

Shit.

God, this is awful. Nothing even remotely sexual happened, and Eddie’s popping a boner and practically stabbing your stomach. Fuck, you probably think he’s a perv now. Nice going.

“No.”

It falls silent for a moment, and Eddie can feel the quiver of your body as you giggle into his shoulder. He smiles, an embarrassed blush rising over her cheeks as he lifts a hand to palm at his eye, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You turn in Eddie’s arm, pressing a hand to Eddie’s shoulder to lay him on his back. You stay lying by his side, body pressed to him, head resting on his shoulder. You nose at the curly strands of hair on Eddie’s neck, and your hand runs down his torso, fingertips dipping beneath the waistband of his sweats. “O-oh. No, you don’t need to, princess.” Eddie says, yet his voice is shaky and holds anticipation as you drag your nails through the coarse hair leading to his cock.

“I want to. Please?” You ask. And you’re so good, so obedient, not touching Eddie’s cock until he swallows and nods his head yes. You wriggle, like a happy pup that got a treat, and your hand sinks lower, wrapping around the thick of Eddie’s cock.

Eddie’s breath hitches, sinking into the feeling of your warm hand stroking up his cock, your thumb running over his leaking tip. Eddie curses, hips twitching up into your hold, and you press a kiss to his jaw, and Eddie nearly bursts into stars.

You press another kiss to his jaw, soft and sweet, and Eddie slinks an arm around you, sinking his hands into your hair and shakily breathing. “You keep kissing me like that, and I’m gonna— fuck.”

And it’s so pathetic; you’ve only had your hand down his pants for less than five minutes, and Eddie’s quivering like a virgin having their first time. God, this is so embarrassing.

You kiss Eddie once more, “Wait, wait. Not yet.”

And then you shuffle away from Eddie, and he’s frowning because he feels cold without you snuggled against him. But then you’re sinking underneath the covers, and Eddie’s cursing, “W-what are you doing, honey?”

He lifts the covers just as you wriggle your way between his legs and hook your fingers over the band of his sweats. You peel his sweats away, mouth opening like a hungry lion when Eddie’s cock pops out. You push the front band of his sweats to catch just below his balls, and Eddie’s hips squirm from the pressure making you giggle when his cock twitches.

You loop your fingers around his cock, twisting up on a long stroke, “Did I ever tell you how pretty your cock is, Eddie?”

Jesus Christ.

Eddie breathes shakily through his nose, tummy quivering as your gaze flickers; he shakes his head no. Eddie sinks a hand to pet your hair back, smiling when you nuzzle into his touch, letting your lips brush against his tip, “You think it’s pretty, baby?” He asks.

You nod, letting your tongue loll out of your mouth to catch the pearl of pre-cum dripping from his tip. You don’t say anything else as you lean forward and wrap your mouth around him, languidly taking him as far as you want and sucking him for all he’s worth.

Eddie’s head drops back then, his entire body just losing strength to do anything as you slowly fuck your mouth over him. The blanket falls over you then, and Eddie curses, scrambling to push it back over your head so you don’t, like, suffocate on his cock.

And Eddie was already close before, so it doesn’t take long for him to start cursing and warning you that he’s gonna cum. Before he knows it, he’s emptying himself into the warm cavern of your mouth, soft mixes of curses and your name tumbling from his mouth as you happily take every last drop.

You pull off of him with a small pop, licking up the small remnants of cum that drool down his cock. Eddie feels weightless now; the effects of sugar are long gone now that you practically sucked his soul through his dick. You tuck Eddie back into his pants, and as if you couldn’t get any cuter, any sweeter, you press a gentle kiss to Eddie’s tummy right where the waistband sits.

Eddie’s got a loopy grin on his face when you crawl back up to snuggle back into his side, mumbling something about how you love licking his cock. Eddie nearly dies, by the way.

He thinks he’s in love with you, maybe.

You breathe in deep, draping an arm across Eddie’s tummy and slinking your leg between his, and you sigh all sleepy and cute as you say, “G’night, Eddie.”

Yeah. Eddie’s definitely in love with you.

Weeks go by as you and Eddie become thick as thieves.

You carry on with your nightly calls, obviously, but now there’s a healthy mix of one of you going to the other's home and crashing there for the night, then that bleeds into the next day where you just spend hours with each other doing fuck all.

Eddie just likes being around you. You don’t have to be doing anything particularly fun or sexual; no, Eddie just enjoys your company. And most times, you and Eddie will be doing your separate little activities— you reading or watching a movie while Eddie writes up new campaign ideas for Dustin— and you will reach out to twirl a strand of Eddie’s hair around your knuckle and gently tug or poke your finger into his cheek where his dimples reside and Eddie just melts.

Most of the time, you’re only doing it for your peace of mind (Eddie knows because you told him when he asked), but something tells him maybe you actually have something to say when you poke Eddie’s cheek for the third time.

He turns to you, brows raised and hiding beneath his bangs that so badly need a trim, “Yes, doll?”

You smile now that his attention is on you, and you shift, careful not to wake Banshee in your lap from your movements. Eddie thinks Banshee might like you more than she likes him, which is just downright traitorous, considering Eddie’s the one who feeds her and keeps a roof over her head. He doesn’t really blame the cat, though.

“What are you doing on Saturday?” You ask.

Eddie hums, closing his notebook and leaning back into his couch, “This Saturday?”

You nod, and Eddie shrugs, lips pouting as he speaks, “Nothing, I’m pretty sure. Why?”

You sigh heavily, sinking into the couch as you gently pet Banshee behind her ear, “We have an event for work, and I was just wondering if you would maybe wanna tag along?”

Eddie’s head tips in interest, “Sure. Is it, like, fancy dress shit?” He asks. Eddie thinks he has a tux somewhere deep in the trenches of his closet. Probably the one he wore to Wayne's wedding two years ago; he hopes he still fits.

You shrug, “Eh, nothing too fancy schmancy. Slacks and a nice shirt will do,” You mindlessly watch the television, gently rubbing Banshee’s ear between your fingers. “That I can do, princess. But uh,” Eddie pauses, “You don’t seem too ecstatic about this.” He points out.

You shrug, glancing over at Eddie, and Eddie wants to kiss your pouty lips because you look adorable swallowed up in a throw blanket with sleepy eyes blinking up at him. “S’cause I’m not,” You huff, “I hate those ignorant assholes— don’t get me wrong, some of them are good friends of mine! But most of them are just…” You make a face and roll your eyes, and Eddie softly laughs. You let your head lazily turn to gaze at him, “Don says I have to go, though. So I figured I may as well drag someone I actually enjoy being around.” You softly smile.

Eddie’s heart flutters and grows three times the size of his body.

Saturday night comes quicker than most, and Eddie spends nearly an hour digging through his closet. By the time Eddie finds a nice enough shirt to pair with his neatly ironed (to Eddie’s standard, which is probably not very high) slacks, he’s running behind and starts to stress that he won’t pick you up on time, and he’s just totally made an ass of himself.

It’s five o’clock when Eddie gets to your flat, and when he knocks on your door, he’s out of breath because he smokes more than a godman grill, and he skipped every other step on the staircase to get there quicker. He’s thinking of a million ways to apologize for being late, and he thinks he has it right when you open the door, but then— “Oh. Hey Eds! You’re early!”

Eddie huffs, nearly doubling over in exhaustion because he seriously needs to quit smoking, “Wha– early?”

You hold the door open for Eddie to step in and nod. You’re in a white fluffy robe with house boots on, and your hair is tied back, so you have a clear canvas to work with for your makeup. “Yeah, it starts at seven.”

And, oh, what the fuck? Here Eddie was stressing and thinking he’d completely ruined his chances with you because he decided to be an asshat and lose track of time on his video games, but in reality, he’s nearly two hours early?!

“Oh, but now you can help me pick a dress. Come on.”

No, Eddie has zero complaints, actually. He’s grateful that he’s timely challenged, he thinks as you drag him toward your room.

Eddie spends the next thirty minutes or so seated at the foot of your bed, judging whichever dresses you surprise him with from out of your closet.

It isn’t easy to give a solid answer because, well, you look good in all of them. And Eddie’s not even being biased because he’s got a sickening crush on you— no, you genuinely look amazing in every dress.

“Eddie, you’ve said yes to all of them.” You huff. “Because they all look good!” Eddie exclaims.

You frown, resting your hands on your hips and tilting your head at him. Eddie shrugs, “I don’t know why you’re upset with me when it’s technically your fault.” He points out, to which you roll your eyes and jokingly throw a dress at his face.

It takes a while for you to decide; by the time you’ve figured it out, there’s about forty minutes until the event begins.

The dress you landed on is evil, to say the least.

It’s a black puffy babydoll-style dress, except instead of a poofy top half, it’s tight fitting and pushes your chest up to sit nice and pretty, and the straps are thin, and Eddie thinks about the sound you’d make if he just reached out and teasingly snapped it against your skin. Wants to coo when you squirm and mewl and press yourself into him.

And the dress is so short, long enough to cover everything, but you wouldn’t have to bend over very far to flash a lucky person, and the sight of your thighs makes Eddie’s head spin.

He doesn’t know where the courage comes from because Eddie is anything but bold when it comes to people he has ridiculous crushes on, but Eddie couldn’t help himself, watching you bent over the sink as you do your last touch-ups to your makeup, the way your silky thighs rub against one another when you shift to get closer to the mirror— Eddie didn’t stand a chance.

He’s behind you before he knows it, and you’re smiling at him through the mirror, “Almost done, promise.” You say.

Eddie lets his hand slink around your waist, dropping his head to nuzzle into your neck, brown eyes fluttering up to hold your gaze through the glass as he kisses your skin before playfully nipping at you. You squeal, curling away from him, and he smiles as you push at him. “You’re cute,” Eddie softly says, and he grins, teeth digging into his bottom lip when you shy away from his gaze, “So pretty.” He adds.

Eddie turns you to face him as he presses you against the bathroom sink. He seeks your lips, but you pout and shake your head, “My lipgloss.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh, shaking his head before pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, careful not to catch any of the sticky application before sinking to his knees, hands gentle and greedy as they caress your thighs.

Eddie leans forward to kiss the inside of your knee, “Gonna let me taste you, honey?” He hums, leaning in the press a kiss further up the inside of your thigh. Your breath hitches, legs subconsciously spreading wider to accommodate Eddie. Your nails dig into the countertop as you shakily breathe, “W-we’re gonna be late,” You weakly say as Eddie lets his tongue draw shapes in your skin. Eddie hums, sucking the fat of your thigh into his mouth before leaving with a pop, lips brushing against your hot skin as he says, “I’ll be quick. Promise.”

He doesn’t wait for your response as he coasts his hands up your thighs to loop his fingers around the band of your panties, dragging them down your legs and helping you step out of them.

Eddie doesn’t waste time then; he kisses a sloppy wet trail up the inside of your thigh, fingers digging into the fat of your skin and helping you spread open for him so he can nuzzle his head beneath the fluffy tulle of your dress and begin his task of devouring you. You’re wet, dripping, and throbbing for Eddie’s tongue, and this is the third time that Eddie has found himself licking into you, and god, it never gets fucking old.

The sounds you make, the way you writhe, the tiny gasps you give, and then the way your cunt pulses around his tongue— it’s the pinnacle of Eddie’s night, he already knows.

“E-Eddie— oh,” Your breathy whine makes Eddie stuff his face further into your pussy, nose brushing against your clit as he thrusts his tongue into you, your hands scrambling down to sink into Eddie’s hair and tug.

And it took Eddie longer than he’d like to admit to get his hair slicked into the neat bun he’s sporting, but with his tongue plunged deep inside of you and your pretty moans filling his ears, Eddie can’t seem to care that you’re definitely messing up his hard work.

Eddie could spend eternity here, down on his knees, under the dress of your skirt, lapping at your pussy like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have. And sure, Eddie makes this conclusion, like, every single time he finds himself between your legs, but can you blame him? You’re the sweetest thing he’s ever had the pleasure of dealing with.

You lift a leg to hook over Eddie’s shoulder, the heel of your foot pressing into his shoulder blade and pushing a moan from the depths of Eddie’s chest as he snuggles deeper into you, licking and sucking and nipping.

“S-so close…” You whimper, thighs beginning to quiver on each side of Eddie’s head. He fixes his grip on your hips because Eddie wouldn’t dream of letting you fall in his presence, and you’re standing on your tiptoes when you fumble over the edge, crying out for Eddie as you soak his tongue.

Eddie’s moaning into you, fingers massaging and caressing the thick parts of your hips and thighs as he continues working you through your orgasm. You’re twitching and heavily breathing when Eddie parts his mouth from your slick folds, strings of arousal and spit snapping and falling to his chin. God, it makes Eddie ache in his pants.

He presses sweet and sticky kisses to the insides of your thighs, savoring every moment he has here, breathing you in, tasting you, feeling you, hearing you. He doesn’t doubt for a moment that he looks like a madman when he brings his head out from under your dress, and you giggle, pressing your hand to your lips.

Eddie wants to hear that noise on repeat. Put his headphones on and, like, clean his house or something. Let your giggles play on a constant loop until they’re engrained into the grooves of his brain so he never has to go a second without hearing them.

“What?” Eddie smiles, hands still under your dress and soothingly squeezing the shaky muscles of your thighs. Your eyes are glazed from pleasure, and you look warm as you speak, “I– your hair,” You laugh. You press the wispy curls of Eddie’s bangs back, “I’m so sorry. It looked so nice, and I messed it up.” You happily frown.

Eddie huffs out a laugh, pressing a kiss to your knee and shaking his head, “That’s okay,” He responds, reaching over for your panties to help you slip them back on. “It was for a good cause.” He winks.

Eddie doesn’t frequent fancy parties.

The fanciest event Eddie’s ever been to was a masquerade-themed dinner that he and Jeff snuck into because there were rumors of a big hit producer being there, which, big fucking shocker, they never found him since everyone was in a fucking mask. It was a waste of time, but at least they ate like kings that night.

Besides that, Eddie doesn’t go to fancy places— it’s just not his kind of scene. And it’s not like the event you’ve brought him to tonight is, like, Buckingham Palace tier, but everyone here looks like a million bucks and up, and Eddie’s not quite sure he’s up to that standard.

He would be more worried if you weren’t clinging to him like a koala bear and keeping him in light conversation.

You introduced Eddie to a few of your industry friends, and one or two of them even remembered Eddie from the films he’d done with you, which, Eddie doesn’t know why, but his head grew three times bigger in size from that. And for the most part, you keep to Eddie’s side, pointing out different people from across the room and telling him the lore behind them and whatnot as you share a plate of snacks.

And you love grapes, apparently, because Eddie’s had to get up and refill on them about three times now. “Do you want more?” Eddie asks when he realizes you’re almost done. You glance at him with a small smile as you nod, “I’ll get it this time, though. I want to try some of the cheese.”

So, Eddie nods and keeps an eye on you until the crowd obstructs his view. He busies himself with watching the room, tries to see if he can pick out anyone from any pornos he’s watched before he realizes that’s fucking weird and cringes at himself for being a perv. He finishes his glass of champagne, which Eddie isn’t a champagne guy, but it was either that or whiskey, and Eddie would rather not get shitfaced tonight.

And what’s taking you so long? You’ve been gone for a while now, and Eddie had first thought you maybe made a quick stop at the restrooms, but it’s been more than enough time, and he misses you (as fucking sappy as that is), so he gets up and makes his way to the food bar.

He’s got his empty flute in one hand and the other in his pocket, brown eyes softly scanning the room as he walks. And then he spots you, near the food where you said you’d be, with some guy talking to you, but something isn’t right.

Eddie’s spent enough time with you now to be able to tell when you’re feeling uneasy just by the way you anxiously drag your nail against the length of your thumb, the way your eyes dart around, or the tense pull of your shoulders.

Your gaze lands on Eddie, and your eyes soften, and Eddie doesn’t even have to think twice before he walks over.

The man's back is facing Eddie, so he doesn’t see the curly-headed boy until he steps around and slinks an arm around your waist, pulling you close with a soft smile, “Been looking for you, sweets.” He presses a kiss to your forehead as you sink into him.

“Mm, just catching up with..a friend.”

Eddie doesn’t miss the pause. He looks over to the man you’d been talking to, and you take a breath, “Eddie, this is Chris, a coworker.” You introduce the man. And Eddie remembers that name; he thinks he remembers seeing it on the script of the last film you and Eddie did together— the one where you’d asked Eddie to take over because the other guy was an asshole.

Chris reaches out a hand, “Chris. You must be a good friend of hers?”

Eddie doesn’t like that. Doesn’t like that he doesn’t refer to you by your name, or the smug grin on his face, or the sly tone in his voice when he says it.

And Eddie doesn’t know why he does it, okay. He doesn’t know why the words fly out of his mouth or why he didn’t, like, think it through, but suddenly, Eddie’s introducing himself as your boyfriend. Which, Eddie is not your boyfriend. And you’re not his girlfriend.

Eddie would love to be your boyfriend, and he’d love for you to be his girlfriend, but— but you’re not. So, Eddie doesn’t know why he does it, but he does, and god, it’s comedic how the guy's face falls. Eddie can feel your gaze on him, and he panics a little because what if Eddie just crossed the line big time?

Chris’s gaze flickers to you, and his brows raise as you look at him, “So, I take it this is why you’re only doing solo content now?”

Which, fucking gross. That’s definitely none of this meathead guy's business! So what if you’re making solo content only? And why does he know, and why does he care? God, this guy’s a creep.

But also… why are you only doing solo content? Eddie can’t help but wonder. Did something happen? Was it this asshole's fault? Eddie will kill him if he has anything to do with it. You and Eddie have become so close; you tell each other everything about everything, so why didn’t you tell him about this? It’s not a big deal or whatever, but—

“Does it matter?” Shit, Eddie didn’t mean to say that out loud.

You’re both looking at Eddie in shock, and Eddie just blinks and waits for an answer.

You take in a deep breath, arm squeezing around Eddie’s as you answer— since this guy can’t take a fucking hint, “Yeah, actually, it is. Just didn’t feel right.” You shrug.

The guy nods, pursing his lips together, “Fair enough. Well, if that ever changes, you know where to find me.” He winks before turning around and leaving. Eddie cringes, and he almost steps forward to say something, to tell him to fuck off somewhere, but your grip tightens around his arms, and Eddie understands that you just want the conversation to be over.

Eddie’s quickly turning his attention to you, though, when you press yourself into his side, “Thank you.” You sweetly say.

Eddie nods, a warm hand reaching up to squeeze your hand that's resting over his bicep, “Don’t sweat it, princess. That guy’s a douche.” And you huff, nodding your head, “Yeah. You definitely scared him, though. It was pretty hot.”

Eddie tries not to let that get to his head.

He fails.

The rest of the night goes well with fewer dickhead run-ins and more grapes, and Eddie is more than Elated when you say it’s time to go.

The ride home is pleasant, and you’ve been extra cuddly all night, so Eddie’s heart is practically the size of Texas when you bring his hand into your lap and slink your fingers together. You’re spending the night, so Eddie’s kind of excited to get in bed and snuggle until you both pass out— but then Eddie’s thrown in for a loop when you both get under his covers.

Banshee is busy in her bakery down at the foot of the bed, kneading little biscuits in preparation for her sleep, and you’re fresh-faced and wrapped in one of Eddie’s shirts when you look over at him with a teasing look, “So,” you start, “You’re my boyfriend.”

Eddie blinks at you, wishing the bed would just let him sink in and become one with the mattress. “Oh god,” He groans, pressing his hands to his face, “I’m sorry, it just came out! That guy was being a dick, and it was the first thing that I thought of, and— god, I’m sorry.” He drags his hands over his face and shoots you an empathetic look. “You can totally, like, kick me in the nuts.”

And Eddie kind of braces himself for you to chew him out or something; tell him he’s a weirdo, and he’ll never in a million years get to call himself your boyfriend because you’re way out of his league. But then you giggle.

And it’s not the teasing ‘get a load of this loser’ giggle— no, it’s your sweet, kind, and adoring giggle.

“No, no. I was… I was wondering when you would ask, actually.”

Eddie’s never turned his head so fast. He thinks he imagined you saying it, like, maybe he drank too much champagne even though he literally only had less than two full glasses the entire night. “Huh? I– w-what do you mean?” Eddie gapes. “Like… like, ask you to be my girlfriend?”

And you’re so cute as you shyly nod, glancing at Eddie with this expectant gaze.

“Shit, well uh, I-I wanted to ask you in like a bigger way. Like flowers and shit because I… well, I really like you, and it’s what you deserve and—”

You cut Eddie off with a laugh and scoot closer to him, and if Eddie’s heart beats any faster, he might die. “Eddie,” You lowly and softly say, holding his gaze. Eddie nods, eyes darting down to your lips as he holds his breath. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

Shit, Eddie’s never said yes so quickly in his life.

————

a/n: HELLOOO! if you have made it to the end of this awfully long baby i am so thankful and appreciative of you, these two are my babies so I hope you enjoyed them as much as I've enjoyed my time with them <3 as always, thank u for reading and being here, i love and appreciate any feedback, ILYSM MWAH <3

————

cutie teeny taglist: @vol2eddie @paleidiot @hideoutside

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neo-nomatrix · 9 months

Text

In a world of boys, he’s a gentleman

Luke Castellan x Apollo kid!reader

word count: a little over 1k

summary: you’ve had your heart broken many times, maybe the Hermes boy will be different

You have only ever wanted to be loved. For whatever reason you haven’t had much luck. Sure, there were many guys.

Callum from Ares. The only thing hotter than him was his temper.

Ryan from Hephaestus. He would forge copper to make you jewelry, little did you know three other girls had the same gift.

Ezra from Athena. Always thought he was so much smarter and better than you. Made you want to shoot your arrow straight at him.

Aiden from Hermes. A liar who couldn’t take anything seriously.

Elliott from Ares. Was dared by Callum to lock you in a dark room. And he actually listened.

Being the child of Apollo had its perks, but it more often had downsides. Your least favorite being your ability to fall in love so easily. After Elliot you swore off falling in love. A pain even you couldn’t heal. You couldn’t understand why nothing seemed to work out for you, you were a dreamboat!

A beautiful daughter of Apollo who glowed like the sun. Not only were you his daughter, you were his favorite, the hundreds of freckles on your face proved it. You were kind and generous, always willing to take in an injured camper from dusk to dawn. Your smile quite literally lit up a room. Perhaps you were too nice? Maybe they thought they could take advantage of your kindness?

Whatever the reason was doesn’t matter. You decided to take a page from your aunt Artemis’ book. No more boys, no more falling in love. Things will be easier this way. You know it.

You should’ve been at the bonfire with everyone else. You chose to skip it tonight because you wished to be alone, at the archery range. Maybe you’d earn another freckle if Apollo saw you practicing your already perfect shot. Luke should’ve been at the bonfire too, singing with your half-siblings and roasting marshmallows.

“Hey! I need some help!” A deep, painful cry said.

Immediately worried, you turned around and saw Luke Castellan holding his abdomen. You immediately run over to him, taking his arm over yours and getting to your cabin as soon as possible. You decided the infirmary was too far and you could use the cot in your cabin.

You slam through the cabin door and lay him on the cot in the middle of the bunk beds. “Lay down.”

You pull up his blood stained orange shirt to reveal a large gash on the side of his toned stomach. You held your hand on his abdomen for a moment to assess what happened. A second degree burn and large slices, as if by a horn, caused this.

“How did this happen?” You ask as you start to transfer some of the pain to a potted plant, causing it to wilt.

“Accident with a hephaestus kid, wrong place, wrong time I guess,” He says slightly wincing.

“I can take most of the pain but it’ll still take a while to heal,” You explain.

“Weren’t you supposed to be at the bonfire, leading a song with the rest of your cabin?” He asks.

“I could ask you the same thing, wandering around the blacksmiths. You know those things they make are pretty hot right?” You scoff at him.

“Yeah I guess I do now,” he rolls his eyes.

You begin to bandage the wound and give him a slice of bread. “Bread? What the hell is this gonna do?” he questions.

“My sister Melody made it, it can heal the burns for the most part,” you say.

“Aren’t you the girl who dated Aiden?” He asks bluntly, taking a bite of the bread.

“That’s none of your business,” You roll your eyes.

“If you ask me-” he begins to say before you cut him off.

“I’m not.”

“He was an idiot. All those guys were. I mean seriously, didn’t anyone teach them how to treat a pretty girl?” He continues, not fazed by you interrupting him.

“All those guys? You know about them?” You question.

“I guess. I mean after word got out about that shithead Elliot I did some asking,” he shrugs. You frown at the mention of Elliot.

“Whatever, they’re all in the past. No more guys for me,” you tell him.

“You shouldn’t give up entirely, these guys are stupid. There’s someone out there who deserves you, trust,” He assures you.

“Oh yeah? Tell me when you meet him,” You laugh.

“I think i know a guy, actually,” He responds, sitting up slightly.

“Oh yeah? Do tell.”

“Well, he’s tall, tan, and goddamn gorgeous. Has these soft brown curls, and I heard he’s the best swordsman at camp. Perfect for the best archer,” He explains to you, smiling.

“You seem to be fond of him, maybe you should go date him,” You joke.

“Nah, I think he likes this girl from Apollo. Kind, generous, beautiful, best healer and archer around,” He locks eyes with yours, darting between your eyes and your lips.

He holds your face in his hand, circling his thumb. His shirt rides up exposing his stomach and bandages.

“You like what you see?” He teases.

“You’re an idiot,” You smile.

“That seems to be your type,” he shrugs and knits his brows.

Before you can say another word he presses a kiss against your lips, moving them softly against yours. One of his hands stays on your neck while the other ventures down to your waist and then the chair you sat in. He pulls the chair closer to him and puts his hand back on your waist. You move one of your hands to his knee and the other to right beside him, leaning in closer.

“Fuck, you’re amazing,” He’s whispers into the kiss.

You smile at him before pausing. “The bonfire’s almost over, maybe you should head back,” you say.

“Yeah probably,” he gives you one last hard kiss followed by another few pecks.

He stands up and steadys himself, the injury clearly still pains him. He starts to walk away but before he can leave he turns back to you and presses a few more kisses against you.

“Okay, I’m done. y’know for now,” he smirks.

“You’re welcome anytime,” You laugh and he leaves. He gives you two looks before exiting.

Maybe you’ll give this boy one more chance.

#pjo x you #luke castellan #luke pjo x reader #luke castellan x reader #pjo x reader #luke pjo #percy pjo #pjo series #pjo fandom #pjo #pjo tv show #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson and the olympians #luke castellan x you

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pynkfairyheart · 4 months

Text

Pairings: connie x black reader

Warnings: smut 18+ Connie's a lil toxic, mentions of a gun, pretty angsty

pt.2 to birthday girl but can be read as a standalone

Miss you

Constance Springer. The man who was once the source of your happiness though recently the source of your frustration and headaches.

“I just don't get it, Con. You take me on these amazing dates, buy me anything that catches my attention, and say you wanna spend the rest of your life with me, yet when I ask to publicly announce we’re together, which I shouldn't have to, you always brush it aside.” You spoke as calmly as possible. Though considering this was the 4th time this week you were having this conversation your calm tone resembled shouting.

It had been five months since your birthday. Five months since Connie gave you the best gift you could ever think of. Himself.

The first four months felt as if you were on cloud nine. The entire duration it was as if you were conjoined at the hip. Connie had to make a couple of drops? There you were in his passenger seat watching a movie or using his card to pay for the large quantity of your cart.

You needed to go make up a missed exam? Connie was waiting in his car with a bouquet of your favorite flowers. The only time you weren't seen together was if he was doing something he didn't want you involved in or if he was out buying you secret lavish gifts such as the car he got you a week after your birthday. Life was great.

It wasn't til you were at your nail appointment with Mika where she nearly cut you with her clippers from shock the moment you brought up your relationship with Connie, that you realized no one knew about it.

At first, you were confused. How could no one know? You were always together but the more you thought about it you started to understand. Whenever you were out he wasn't as affectionate as when it was just the two of you, just a few touches that could easily be considered friendly, but you just brushed it off as him not being comfortable with PDA.

Even when you went on dates he'd buy the entire venue or restaurant out so it'd be just you two or would plan the nicest dates at the house, either way, no one saw you on dates as a couple.

You thought about it for a while before it finally ate you up and you just had to ask. His response was the reason shit went left.

“Whatchu mean let people know we’re together? Ion want people in our business. I'm yours and you're mine, that's all that matters” He brushed it off with a kiss on your forehead before running to go get some eggs around the corner. He was only gone for ten minutes yet in that time frame you went through hundreds of different reasons as to why he responded that way.

At first, you were confused. Then, you were trying to reassure yourself he's right as long as we know then we straight. But immediately after that thought came anger why the fuck doesn't he want people to know? Am I the fuckin side chick?

By the time Connie came back you were fuming. You trusted Connie, the night he asked you to be his he promised you he'd never do anything to hurt you yet you couldn't deny how suspicious this was. He barely had time to lock the door behind him before you started with your questions.

“You cheating on me Constance?”

“What?” He almost gave himself whiplash with how fast he turned, looking at you as if you had said the stupidest shit ever which in his mind you did.

“You heard me. Are you cheating?” You followed him into the kitchen of his apartment.

“No [☆] I'm not cheating. I needa take you to the ER? Cause it sounds like you hit your head while I was gone”

“Then why don't you wanna tell anyone?”

“About us?”

“Duh”

“I already told you, mami, I don't want people all up in our business”

That was two weeks ago and you guys were nowhere near in a better place. By no means were you insecure. You knew Connie loved you and only you but you wanted others to know as well. It's not like you wanted to leak one of your many sex tapes on IG. You just wanted at least your friend group to know you were together. Connie wasn't having it though.

“Mama lower your tone” He groaned. Inked hands rubbing his face from frustration.

“Just tell me, Con. Why don't you want anyone to know?”

“Is it wrong to wanna keep our relationship private? I love you princess but you buggin’ for real. Drop it”

“You know what. Fuck this, nd fuck you too. There's a big fucking difference between private and secret.” You slammed his bedroom door. This was too much. You couldn't take it anymore; it was as if he was ashamed of you. You loved Connie, you really, really loved him but this hurt, the constant drop of your heart whenever he let go of your hand the moment you stepped out of his apartment complex or whenever a girl flirted with him in front of the group but there was nothing you could do. You were done. No amount of love could make you settle for anything less than you knew you deserved.

Despite your teary eyes you managed to pull yourself together. Grabbing your bag, you packed as much as possible before finally exiting the room.

Connie was in the middle of rolling a blunt when he saw you walk out, he would have been convinced that his heart was lying on the couch when he stood up if it wasn't for the loud thumping in his ears.

“Where are you going?” He stood in your way

“Connie please move” You sniffled

“No, not until you tell me where you're going. Please [☆] lo siento, mami, por favor, no te vayas please don't go” His voice cracked as reality hit him. Dropping to his knees, his hands gripped the soft flesh of your hips.

“I promise to be better, I promise. I will call everyone on my phone and tell them about us right now, please don't go” At this point, you had to look away. His tear-stricken face and Spanish almost had you fold.

“We'll work this out ma, estaré mejor, lo prometo I'll be better, I promise”

“No, we can't Connie. Not right now” And with that, you left.

A month had passed so far. It was rough in the beginning. He blew your phone up 24/7 to the point where you had to block him. You couldn't eat, and whenever you did have the energy to stay awake you did nothing but scroll on your phone, your thumb always finding the photo album where you stored all pictures of Connie.

Sasha and Mikasa finally had enough, while Mika was the only one you told Sasha had a pretty good idea after she went to visit Connie only to find him in the same state as you, maybe even worse. Deciding you needed to leave the walls of your apartment and have fun, they finally convinced you to go out. Taking a couple of pregame shots while shaking ass in the mirror, your outfit leaving nothing to the imagination as you finally felt ready to face reality.

By the time you had arrived at the party, the drinks started to kick in and you grabbed the first sexy guy you saw and dragged him to the dance floor.

Unknown to you Connie was also at the party, standing in the corner as he made a few deals. He looked tired, and he was. The moment the door closed behind you he broke down. Ignoring all of the calls and texts he got from clients as he sat there. He was angry. Angry at you for leaving him but mostly angry at himself for fucking up.

When Connie finally caught sight of you it was as if someone had finally flipped the switch on throughout his body. His heart sped up, his posture straightened and his dick twitched at the sight of your body in the dress.

His dick wasn't the only thing twitching. When it finally registered to Connie that you were letting some random guy touch you as you whined on him, his eye twitched and his hand immediately went to his gun.

He was furious. With zero fucks he approached you, the barrel of his gun pressed against the guy who you were currently throwing it back on.

When you no longer felt the swaying of the man behind you, you turned to be met with the fear-frozen stranger and Connie whispering something in his ear. You didn't have time to ask what was going on before the guy scurried off and Connie roughly grabbed your arm, dragging you out of the house party.

Despite the fact you were no longer together and he had no right to drag you away, you stayed quiet. Connie rarely got angry but when he did you knew it was best to just stay quiet.

“Get in the fucking car [☆]” He threw open the door. You were convinced the thong you had on was completely drenched after those six words. His voice was low and threatening and you almost felt disgusting from how turned on you were. Almost. With one look into his rage-filled eyes, you got in the car, the door slamming behind you when he was sure you were safely in.

He quickly got in, tire tracks marking the ground as he sped off. It was silent for a minute before you decided to speak, once his grip on the steering wheel loosened and the color returned to his knuckles.

“Connie?” You faced him, eyes burning into the side of his head as he kept his dark stare on the road.

“Connie, come on. You can't just kidnap me and then not speak. Pull over and talk to me now” You huffed.

With a roll of his eyes, he pulled into a deserted parking lot.

“Hello? Either you get to talking or I'm getting out nd calling an Uber”

“No the fuck you're not” He groaned loudly, eyes meeting yours.

“Then talk” You borderline yelled

If Connie's hair was long enough to grip he'd have a couple bald spots from how frustrated he was. He gave you both time to cool down before he spoke.

“Look I'm sorry for dragging you away, and for threatening your lil boyfriend-”

“He's not my boyfriend”

“He's not?”

“No. Continue your apology” You rolled your eyes.

Your response had a smirk forming on his face. He missed you so much, even your attitude.

“I missed you ma. I'm sorry for dragging you away. I'm also sorry for how things ended.” He grabbed your hand.

“I now understand your feelings and your concerns and I'm sorry I ever made you feel like I was ashamed of you or if there was another woman. You're the love of my life ma, this past month has been pure hell. I need you baby. Please take me back.” His hands were shaking as they held yours securely. It was rare to see Connie cry, and the sight of his tear-streaked face made your heart ache. He really did love you.

Swallowing the lump in your throat you asked the one question that started it all.

“Be real Con. Why didn't you want anyone to know?”

With a sigh, he rubbed his facial hair.

“I was afraid you'd realize you could do better”

“What? What made you think that Con?”

“I sell drugs for a living, mami, I'm involved with a shit ton of dangerous people. I was afraid when others found out they'd start telling you things about me and you'd realize you can do so much better”

“Oh, Connie” You could no longer resist the need to be close to him. Maneuvering yourself so you sat in his lap you cupped his face as your eyes searched his.

“Papa there is no one better. I love you so much, Connie. There is nothing anyone could ever say to make me want or love you less because I know you. I know how much you care and love those around you. There is no one better, Connie.”

For some time, the two of you were wrapped in each other's arms as you faced your emotions.

When you both were calm, you finally dared to look into his eyes. The energy shift resembling the one from your birthday.

“Con” You slowly inched your face closer to his

“I'm sorry for all the hurt I put us through mami” His hand wrapped around your neck

“Déjame compensarte let me make it up to you” He closed the space between you.

It felt like the first breath taken after being underwater for a long time. You felt alive, felt loved. The once slow kiss grew into something more passionate. Both of you needy, as you fiend for dominance in the heated exchange.

Ultimately you lost the battle when his hands gripped your hips tightly as if to assure himself you weren't leaving again. It wasn't soon after that you found yourself in the back of his car with your legs resting on his shoulder as he drilled into you.

He littered kisses on your ankle as his grip on your hips tightened. His thick cock stretching you out had your eyes rolling back and moans of ecstasy coming out of your agape mouth.

“Yeah? You doing so good fa me ma. You miss this? Miss how good I fuck you?” His thumb found its way to your clit.

“Fuck, Connie” You whined. Attempting to push his hand away from the sensitive bud.

“Answer me princesa or ima stop” He warned

“Yes, Connie- mhmph I miss it so bad papi oh my god” Your velvety walls squeezed him tight.

"Fuuuck. Don't ever leave me again, you hear me? I can't take it, baby, I love you too much. T-try that shit again nd Imma make you watch while I put a bullet in between his eyes. Understand?” His pace increased.

God that shouldn't have turned you on as much as it did. You were convinced you could have come on the spot, the added pressure on your carotids when you didn't answer immediately wasn't any help.

“Y-yes Con, I promise it won't happen again” You managed to say in between the moans and whimpers that you no longer had the energy to contain.

“Keep squeezing me, mami. I'm so fuckin close” He groaned, hand no longer on your neck as it rested against the steamy windows to stable himself.

The atmosphere of the car was pure filth. Your moans bounced off the windows, the sloshing sound of your wet pussy and slapping skin that created the creamy ring around the base of cock topping it all off.

His thrusts were slowly getting sloppy, you were just squeezing him so tight.

“C-Con” You managed to gasp out, the marks he littered on your neck to suppress his whimpers, having the coil in your belly tighten.

“I know mama, let go fa me” He groaned.

That instant you came, eyes rolling to the back of your head for a quick second as your cream and small spurts of squirt leaked from your pussy.

“Shit mama” He panted, dick twitching as he painted your walls with his cum.

Connie being the lover boy he was despite repeatedly denying it whispered apologies, and sweet promises into your ear as you came down from your high.

“I'm sorry mami, I promise to be better” He kissed you softly as if you were in a fairytale before whispering in your ear.

“But don't think just cus we're good now, that I'm not gon tear that ass up when we get home for giving that loser a taste of what's mine.”

I dont know how i feel about this one buuutttt all thanks to @masterofthepp for giving me this idea. Hopefully it meets your standards babes. As always any feedback is welcome. mwah

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gay-dorito-dust · 4 months

Note

hii!! I don't know if your requests are open but I love the way you write for the Batboys so I thought I'd request something ^-^

The batboys reacting to their s/o not saying "I love you" back when they end a call. This tiktok for reference.

(In case the link doesn't work https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTLW4JWj1/)

Idk if you'll see this but thank you!!

Dick

‘I’ll see you soon honey, I love you.’ Dick said on the other side of the phone.

‘See you soon, bye.’ You said cheerfully as you hung up the phone, trying your hardest not to break down with laughter. You could clearly see Dick’s face within your mind, looking down at his phone with the expression of a confused husky dog, head tilted to the side and a pout spread across his face.

For not once had you ever not said ‘I love you’ to Dick when ending a phone call, even when you were annoyed with him you still told him that you loved him, so this was completely out of the ordinary for you and you knew that Dick knew that too.

Which is why he was quick to call you back.

‘Hi! Yeah this is your BOYFRIEND speaking, you know the one you love and are devoted to loving for all of eternity, so do you not love me anymore now or?’

‘Of course I do what makes you think that sweetheart?’ You asked, trying not to laugh at Dick’s dramatics.

‘Well it doesn’t sound like it.’ You could practically hear him huffing. ‘I just want to be loved is that so much to ask for?’ He asks rhetorically.

‘Dick, you’re being dramatic.’ You tell him and he gasps on the other side. ‘Me dramatic? Never! All I ask is for my beautiful, stunning and perfect partner to say they love me before I go kick some ass, but no I’m asking too much apparently.’ Dick then huffs. ‘How mean.’ You heard him mutter under his breath.

‘Fine I love you! I love you very much so go kick all the asses for my honey! I love, love, love you!’ You practically shouted down the phone. ‘How was that for you mr dramatic?’ You add.

‘Mr dramatic loves you too very much.’ Was all he said before hanging up.

Dick never liked it when you didn’t say I love you, he gets very upset and doesn’t want to do anything else until you concede and tell him you love him as though your life depended on it. He was indeed a dramatic man.

Tim

‘Don’t stay up too late for me, I’ll be home soon I love you.’ He said.

‘Okay bye.’ Was all you replied with before hanging up the phone.

Tim knew damn well you weren’t doing much but hold back your laughter when you put down the phone after not saying ‘I love you’ like you normally did, and so through the process of elimination did Tim eventually come to the conclusion that this was all an elaborate prank.

‘I know this is a prank, you can cut it out now.’ Tim tells you the moment you picked up the phone.

‘Prank? Why would you think this is a prank?’ You asked.

‘You’ve not once forgot to tell me you love me in our past calls, so for you to do it now only is an indication of two things, one it’s a prank or I’ve done something wrong.’ He told you with certainty in his deduction.

You raised a brow. ‘And what makes you think that you didn’t do something wrong and I’m not mad at you?’ You were the one to ask this time as you could practically hear him think.

‘Because I didn’t.’ Was his only reply and you couldn’t help but giggle as you ask again. ‘Are you sure?’

Silence for a couple of second were what you were greeted with before being greeted with a ‘I’m a hundred percent certain.’

You sighed. ‘You’re right, it’s a prank, I’m sorry but I hope this I love you will set things right. So here it is: I love you Tim Drake.’

More silence and you were worried for a second before you heard him say ‘I love you too, don’t stay up too late for me please, we both can’t be sleep deprived that’s only reserved for me.’

Tim knew, he always does so there’s no point trying to prank him because he’ll know unless he’s caught off guard, though he won’t tell you is that he nearly shit himself when you didn’t and though he did something when he begin to think logically.

Jason

‘Okay I’ve got to head out on patrol now with Roy, I’ll see you as soon as I’m done chipmunk, I love you.’

‘See you soon jaybirdie, bye.’ You replied before quickly putting the phone done but as soon as you did, mentally counting down from three and when you got to one, your phone flashed with Jason’s contact almost immediately.

You knew he wasn’t going to let that slide once you started this little prank and he played right into your hands.

‘What was that.’ He asks.

‘What was what.’ You replied, acting as though you were confused.

‘You know what, the whole not saying I love you. it’s kind of out thing and so for you to not saying it is kinda throwing me off my grove, and Roy won’t stop saying how much of a simp I am. What even is a simp anyway?’ You couldn’t help but feel your smile grow wider at Jason’s rant and let out a small chuckle.

‘I’m sure Roy can tell you what a simp is, but I don’t see how me not saying I love you once is enough to throw you complete of your game.’ You replied as you could almost hear Roy laugh.

Jason sighs and you could imagine him rubbing his forehead. ‘Can you, can you just say it so I’m not thinking about it for the rest of the night, I don’t feel like bleeding out on our bathroom floor tonight.’ He says and you couldn’t help but feel yourself bend to his will a little before completely yielding entirely.

‘Fine, if it’ll make you feel better, I love you.’ You said and you could tell that took the weight off of his shoulders.

‘Thanks chipmunk, I love you.’ He said before hanging up, finally content to see the patrol through with a clear mind.

Needless to say Jason internally overthought himself when you didn’t say I love you once, it nearly drove the poor man insane and into doing something reckless. So it was good that you did say it when you did.

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dreamingonfilm · 2 years

Text

✧˖*°࿐ Love Letters | d.m

Draco Malfoy x f!reader, fluff

Summary: In which Draco tries to find the girl who sends him love letters, unaware to the fact that it’s you.

W/C: 1.5k

Draco’s fingers traced over the writing on the pink envelope once again. His mind was not able to rest as he tried to piece together who left the note on his bedside in the middle of the night. Delicately opening it once more, he reread the words inside;

Draco,

I hope you can learn to see yourself the way that I see you, with love and acceptance. You are what makes everyday worth it. Constellations are named after you, and each day I can’t help but to be thankful for the sun breathing on you once more. You are my light.

He carefully closed the envelope and placed it inside his bag. ‘They like me.’ the boy thought to himself, ‘someone actually likes me.’

It’s not that the boy was a stranger when it comes to love, but never once has he been perceived as something more than what he truly is. He’s always been Draco Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy throne, son of Lucius, and most importantly a Slytherin. For this reason, he constantly rejected any advances that came from the female students around him. While his rejections came off as rude and cold-hearted, the other students failed to see that Draco, just like everyone else around him, was human too. He was scared of being hurt by the one feeling that he craved the most.

The walk to class was almost unbearable, he couldn’t stop thinking about the letter. He wanted to know the poet behind those beautiful words, the ones that kept repeating over and over in his head as he tried stirring potions or taking notes. You are what makes everyday worth it. He became hyper aware of his surroundings, assuming that he would know when he sees her, but he failed to realize that she was not someone that could be so easily spotted. She came exactly when you needed her to, not by desire alone.

—-

“Draco,” his friend Blaise called to him, “focus.”

“Oh, right.” Draco replied, trying to get his thoughts together as he walked back to his seat. It was the middle of the school week and his mind was only getting more crowded with the thoughts of her. As he sat back down, his friends swarmed him with questions as to what it was that he smelled in his amortentia, assuming that this would be the first step to finding her.

“I can’t describe it.” He sighed, running a hand through his platinum hair in defeat. “She has me going crazy and I don’t even know her.”

“Well,” Pansy spoke up, “I suggest maybe moving on? I mean, if she wants to be anonymous it may be for a reason. Plus, you have hundreds of other girls that would kill to be with you, Draco. Maybe try your luck somewhere else.” She flashed him a sincere smile before going in to hold his hand, but her efforts were cut short as the boy suddenly stood up.

“I don’t want to be with anyone unless it’s her.” He sneered, shaking his head as he turned around and started heading straight to the door. He said a hushed goodbye to his friends before exiting into the crowded hall.

Why couldn’t his friends see that he didn’t want anyone else? He didn’t care about her wealth, status, or looks, all that he wanted was someone that could love him in full. Love him in a way that can’t be tamed, a love that lives long after they do. This was something that he knew he wasn’t going to find any time soon, for as long as he was at Hogwarts he could only be Draco Malfoy.

His hopes were on her.

He walked through the hall, pushing through students that stood in his way as he asserted dominance with a ray of confidence and high ego. Students glared at him but none had the guts to say anything, this fear that Draco instilled was not one that was going to go away any time soon. It was one that he brought upon himself and now had to live with. Somewhere in between his daydreams and the crowded corridor, he felt someone bump into him. Their shoulders collided as his books fell to the floor. The stranger mumbled a quick apology before running off.

In the midst of his anger, he froze. He smelt it. That same scent that clouded him only a few minutes before. There it was, it was her, but just as quickly as he smelled it, she was gone. Only seeing her hair as she turned at the corner of the hallway.

He quickly got up and chased after her, pushing and shoving anyone that got in his way. This was his chance, he was finally going to meet the girl that’s been making him mad, the one that he’s been dreaming of. His heart was pounding as he ran faster and faster down the hall, students staring at him in confusion as he was passing them by, quills and journals flying out of his bag – but he didn't care, he couldn’t let her get away.

Once he turned the corner, he couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sensation of defeat. His heart crushed as he stared into the empty hallway.

—-

Two weeks have passed since the day that Draco and her collided. He sat in his bed, holding a brand new letter. The same shade of pink as the one before, with the handwriting that he’s fallen in love with.

“Draco,

I’m sorry for not writing to you. I’ve been thinking of you every day, and I just can’t bear to keep dreaming of you without letting you know that I’m sorry for bumping into you in the hallway. The truth is, I’m scared, Draco.

I’m scared you aren’t going to like me for who I am. I’m scared that writing to you was a mistake. I’m scared that the only way you will ever see me is through these letters. I see you every day, why can’t you see me?

You’re always in my heart, shining above me every night, my constellation. If we remain strangers forever, just know that I’ve never come to love someone like how I love you.”

He was getting restless. Constant possibilities of who it could be running through him, he even considered the possibility that this could be a prank, but no amount of doubt could prevent him from finding her, his hope overpowered all the fear that he had.

Draco sat up once more and started getting ready for dinner. Brushing his hair and straightening out his tie, he needed to look presentable for the off chance that he could be meeting her today.

He headed down into the Great Hall and that’s when he saw it. A pink envelope in the hands of a girl he’s never talked to, but not just any girl, it was you.

He shouted out into the void, but he wasn’t quick enough. “Hey wait!” he called out, as you quickly grabbed your things and ran off once more. He couldn’t see you like this, it wasn’t the right time. Your face flushed red as you ran, your breathing quickening as your legs started to grow tired, but you could not let him find you.

Draco chased after you, he was only a few feet behind but with enough determination you knew you could lose him. As you sprinted through the maze of halls, you started to grow light headed, you knew that if you didn’t stop soon you would faint.

But it’s not the right time

You stopped in front of a random classroom, rushing to open the door before he could catch up to you, but it was too late. He crashed into you, both of you falling to the ground with a loud thump, his hands landing on either sides of you as you laid in between him.

He finally found you.

“Who are you?” He asked, not wasting any more time to get to know the girl who stole his heart. You stared into his eyes, feeling a frog in your throat as you mustered up the courage to finally talk to him.

“M-my name is (Y/N).” You whispered, neither of you breaking eye contact. He smiled, grabbing hold of your hands as he went to pick you both up. You were both nervous, too scared of saying the wrong things, but wanting to say them all regardless.

“(Y/N),” he repeated, looking at you with a face full of love and adoration, “I’m Draco.”

He brushed your hair with his fingers and went to pat the dust off your shoulders. You didn’t know what to say or do, but you didn’t have to.

This was the right time.

“Come along then (Y/N),” Draco smiled, interlocking his hand in yours before leading you back down to the Great Hall, “we have a lot of catching up to do.”

11K notes · View notes

infictionalwonderland · 5 months

Note

I NEED PART TWO OF THE MARVEL CAST FLIRTING WITH Y/N L/N!

. . . MARVEL CAST FLIRTING WITH Y/N Y/L/N FOR 10 MINUTES STRAIGHT! (part2)

You cackled to yourself after sending the message into your groupchat, quickly returning to the video and beginning to play it again, occasional bursts of giggles slipping through your lips.

Resuming your place in the video—the first clip that began playing was actually from not that long ago at all. It was You, Kat Dennings, Elizabeth Olsen and Zendaya at Taylor Swifts Eras Tour (an experience you would genuinely never forget). Taylor was playing Lover and, in the clip, Kat had your face in one hand and the other wrapped around your waist, bringing you close to her body.

“Lover, can I go where you go—“ Kat sang with Taylor, singing all the lyrics to you and grinning at you, faces inches away from each other. “—Can we always be this close.” She punctuated this lyric with giving you an eskimo kiss.

You smiled sincerely at the memory.

The next clip began up, it was you and Chris Evans doing Playground Insults with BBC Radio 1: the two of you were sat opposite each other, knees touching, Chris was grinning goofily at you, giddy laughs escaping him as you tried to remain straight faced.

“—we’re here with Chris Evans and Y/N Y/L/N.” The presenters introduced.

“And we’re about to play Playground Insults . . Now Chris and Y/N are sat opposite each other,” the camera cut to you and Chris, him smiling largely and you looking away to contain your own, “the atmosphere is very tense.”

“We’ve done this quite a few times now but im thinking.. this is the biggest movie of the year, let’s make this the biggest playground insults we’ve ever done.”

“Yep.” Chris nodded, trying not to laugh.

“Chris, hun. . you’re ugly. Like, plain ugly.” You nodded seriously, immediately setting off as you feigned a pained wince to the words. “Everyone’s been talking about it. . just, you’re so atrocious to look at. Honestly, I almost feel arse over tits in horror when I saw you.”

Chris opened his mouth to say something but then faltered and pouted, “no matter how good of an actor I am, I could never even get those words out my mouth about you and make them sound genuine. Seriously.”

The third clip started—it was Chris Hemsworth on a carpet, a bold colourful question at the bottom said ‘WHO HAS THE MOST FANS?’. Chris immediately said, “Y/n.” In that deep Australian accent of his. “Not that I blame the people from choosing her to be the people’s queen, she is truly one of a kind. You’ll only ever meet one Y/n in your lifetime, cherish it. The fans have the right idea.”

It changed to Scarlett with the same colourful question at screen and at the same carpet event: “Oh, Yeah. Y/n, one hundred percent.” She chuckled huskily. “That woman has fans upon fans and seriously, I’m one of them. She is something else.” She grinned, winking at the camera.

After Scarlett, Paul Rudd came onto your screen in the very same clip. “Oh! The legend herself, Y/N Y/L/N.” Paul answered brightly, smiling. “The amount of fans she has is unbelievable—well, it’s definitely believable for someone like her, so, not really unbelievable..”

The forth clip began—it was you all playing Family Feud with Jimmy Kimmel, on his live show. Sebastian and RDJ were currently facing off; Jimmy posed the question “what, other than the sun, are some of the hottest things to exist?”

Sebastian got to the buzzer faster than Robert managed to and didn’t even falter or hesitate as he answered straight away, “Y/N Y/L/N.”

The audience immediately screamed laughed and shrieked in delight, RDJ just nodded his head in understanding and appreciation, clapping his hands. Chris Evans, Mark and Anthony on the other side all looked amused but ultimately accepting (Chris was nodding along almost subconsciously). You were on the other team, looking heavenward with a faint exasperated grin and Scarlet wrapped her arm around your waist, Chris Hemsworth smirking at you both.

The fifth clip started up: it was a behind the scenes shot from Endgame, the big final battle. You were currently in the middle of doing your own stunt, green screen behind you and harnesses strapped to you as you dangled at a halfway point in the air. Your arms and hands were positioned in such a way to show your character manipulating her powers—the position also very much enhanced your chest, with the added help of your superhero attire. You looked hot, even you could admit.

The camera mirthfully panned to some of the rest of the cast who all stood aside while you filmed your scene—said cast being Chris Evans, Tom Holland, Gwyneth Paltrow, RDJ, Elizabeth Olsen and Tessa Thompson. All of their eyes were fixated on you, Robert was the only one grinning in amusement (and awe) while all the others stared at you as though you hung the sun yourself.

“Boobies.” Lizzie giggled faintly, her eyes stuck. The rest of the cast watching dumbly nodded while the crew cracked up behind the cameras.

And if you screenshotted their dumbfounded faces looking ip at on screen you. . well that was your business.

The clip changed. It was now Karen Gillan being interviewed on some carpet event, looking genuinely breathtaking. The interviewer was asking, “—obviously, your friend and co-star Y/N Y/L/N has been in lots of iconic movies. . what is your favourite scene of hers in The Wolf of Wall Street?”

Karen paused with a cheeky little smile, giving the interviewer a a jokingly incredulous look. “Come on.” She simply said. “It’s a bloody no brainer, I’m certain it was Leonardo’s favourite scene too. . I hope it is anyway otherwise he’s a silly, silly man.”

At the same carpet event with the same interviewer, Chris Hemsworth was being interviewed—his wife, Elsa, on his arm and looking half ready to battle off any rude interviewers (queen).

“—what is your favourite scene of hers in Ocean’s 8?”

“All of them!” Elsa answered eagerly, grinning. “Her outfits really accentuated her personality and I enjoyed them very much so. Particularly her outfit for the gala. . the amount of accentuated personality, by gosh, it had me speechless.”

Chris turned her head, obviously trying not to laugh at his wife.

“Nunca he estado más celoso y agradecido por la ropa en mi vida.” Elsa hummed.

You blinked.

The clip changed to you, Sebastian, Lizzie, Paul, Jeremy and Jimmy all on his Tonight Show playing Musical Beers. The slightly unnerving music/beat played in the background while you all stalked around the circle, Paul and Jeremy already out—leaving you, Seb, Lizzie and Jimmy.

As you were all racing around the circular table, Lizzie very obviously swatted your ass and you were impressed with your own body as you watched that impact: the audience erupted into laughs and shrieks, Jimmy playfully covering his eyes as Seb smirked. You thought that would be the end of the clip, but no.

The very disco-esk tune briefly cut out and past time you thought that meant it stopped completely and you’d already reached for the red cup in front of you and chugged it’s contents, only to pause as the music began back up.

“Spit it back! Spit it back!”

You did just that—but when the music actually stopped and Seb was left standing in front of the cup with your (let’s not go there) in it, your mouth popped open in shock. Jeremy gladly backed away from the table in hysterics, Lizzie and Jimmy equally as amused.

“Oh my god, I am—“

Sebastian quickly downed the cup with. . those contents, not even looking all that perturbed.

“So sorry.” You finished, mouth agape.

You vaguely remembered a conversation you’d had with him after the show, sincerely and repeatedly apologising and he was just very, very amused with you. He didn’t seem to mind at all—what an odd man.

“It’s all good.” Sebastian chuckled lowly, wrapping the mortified looking past you in a one armed shoulder hug and squeezing you to him. Lizzie seemed to be trying to trade a very obvious eye message with you—the audience shrieked and screamed in the background.

Another clip began: its was you and Scarlett Johansson doing a trust fall thing, you thought (correctly).

“Scarlett I swear. .” You giggled, looking over your shoulder at the woman behind you—she grinned back at you amusedly, her eyes twinkling.

“Calm down.” She laughed herself. “I’ll catch you don’t worry, gorgeous.”

Still slightly overcome with nervous giggles, you turned and let out a breath as you shut your eyes before holding at your arms and falling back.

And catch you she definitely did—although her hands didn’t exactly land in a PG-13 area, you cackled as you watched her hands grope at your chest to pull you up. In the video, you were also wheezing as were the crew and Scarlett had a cheeky little smirk as she laughed.

When you were finally standing, she gave one last squeeze before finally letting go—on screen you was breathless with giggles.

“Always wanted to do that.” She shrugged simply with a large amused smile.

The next clip began—it was Zendaya and Tom Holland on LADBible, playing that how much do you agree or not game. The statement said was ‘Y/N Y/L/N is everyone‘s celebrity crush’.

Instantly, Tom and Zendaya moved their cups to strongly agree, both of them nodding in solid agreement with the statement: presently, you awed at your friends, ego very much boosted. Well. To be fair, all of this video was massively boosting your ego.

“I mean, come on.” Zendaya made a ‘duh’ face and shrugged her shoulders.

“It’s Y/N.” Tom smiled crookedly, adding onto her comment.

“I am so happy I get to now say that she’s one of my closest friends.” Zendaya beamed genuinely. “She’s—one of those people whose beauty isn’t just an external thing, she’s so lovely man.” She pouted, in awe of you.

Watching the video, you beamed back at her.

The clip changed: Mark Ruffalo was on the Graham Norton show, next to Nicki Minaj and an actor you couldn’t place.

“Who would you say your favourite co-star has ever been, Mark?” Graham inquired.

“I—i would probably have to go with Y/N—“ The crowd instantly erupted into cheers and yells and Nicki smiled next to him, stating that she loved you under the sound of cheering. Mark grinned back at her, mumbling ‘me too’.

“Yeah, she’s a hell of an actress, that one. So easy to work with. Funny as f—hell, she’s just—an extremely genuine and kind person, and she really brings the energy on set.” Mark grinned. “..she’s also the only free pass my wife has ever given me. Which I won’t be using! Because I don’t believe in cheating, it’s scummy! Even though she’s gorgeous—anyone would be lucky!” He had to rise to a shout at the end as the audience erupted.

Nicki giggled next to him, “me personally, I would use that pass.”

You gasped in laughter as you watched the screen, screen-recording it all so you could go back and watch it. Saving it to your folder titled PISSING MY PANTS HRLP

The clip changed yet again, showing a scene from the Winter Solider BTS. You and Sebastian were filming a scene where he had to shoot your character—you watched the ‘Winter Solider’ shoot your character multiple times making you go down with an agonised yell, crawling away from him.

As soon as CUT was yelled, Sebastian’s face dropped from his stone cold (wintery) expression and he raced to you, crouching next to you. He practically tugged you into his lap on the floor, holding you.

“Oh my fuck that—that just felt so real, Y/n. You know I would never hurt you right?” He asked, blinking repeatedly before a small smirk fell on his lips. “You’re way too pretty to injure doll. Can’t ruin your perfect face.”

On screen you huffed in mock anger, hiding an amused grin as you shoved at him—he still held you close to him though, so both of you fell backwards and burst into giggles.

You literally thought ‘I ship them’ as you watched the clip of Sebastian and yourself, forgetting that was you for a moment.

Another clip started up—another behind the scenes. It was you and Tom Hiddleston in Thor : Ragnarok. In the scene Loki was tied down to the chair and your character was meant to intimidate him—you watched yourself take out your character’s daggers and lean forward into his space. One leg leaned up on top of the arm of the chair, sliding one dagger just a hair above the skin of his neck while using the over the move his chin up to be angled to you as you mockingly smiled down at him.

You said your line as your character but Tom remained silent, mouth parted and eyes widened as he gazed up at you—speech failing him. (You knew that they actually decided to include this awestruck look in the movie—the amount of fucking edits you’d seen was unreal).

Eyebrows crinkling you nudged your knee into his chest and he snapped out of it, grabbing your knee in a gentle grip. “Sorry darling, words sometimes seem to fail me in your presence.” He muttered rather hoarsely, still staring up at you.

“I don’t fucking blame him.” Tessa Thompson murmured from behind you both, and the camera moved to show her staring at you in a similar awe.

Present time, you could barely hide your smirk. Literally the biggest ego boost. Of all time.

Again, the clip changed and it was now Natalie Portman looking gorgeous on a carpet event, being interviewed—“if you could have Jane explore another romance than Thor, who would it be and why?”

“Y/N!” Natalia enthused immediately. “Well—her character, but like. Both. Either. One for me, one for Jane. That—would be great. And why? Come on! She’s an absolutely beautiful woman, inside and out. She has this outward glow that you literally cannot and don’t want to look away from and that reflects so much in her personality—once you’ve interacted with her one time, you never want to stop. Ever. I’m not kidding.” She giggled.

Another clip started up quickly—a blooper of you and Chris Evans. In this scene, your characters were meant to kiss after an angsty, angry argument. You stormed into the frame, into the bedroom, completely in character—an angry expression on and ready to go at Steve.

Before you could even let out a single syllable to begin your lines, Chris immediately surged forward and took your face in his hands, kissing the living daylights out of you.

You both pulled back after a bit and you just started at him, questioningly (that kiss was probably one of your best ever, let it be known, Chris Evans was a fantastic kisser).

“I—I thought It’d be good for the scene. .” Chris trailed off bashfully, scratching the base of his neck, literally pulling the excuse out of his arse. In actuality, he hadn’t wanted to spare a moment of the scene where he could be kissing you, well, not doing so.

“Bull!” Scarlett exclaimed as she materialised in the doorway. “He just wanted to kiss you.” She told you, pointedly looking at the man.

“Yeah—i—“ He huffed a defeated sigh, pink-cheeked. “I’ve got nothing. She’s right.”

In hindsight, you thought to yourself, you should probably stop being so shocked when the fanbase starts shipping you with your costars.

The clip changed: now it was you, Elizabeth and Aaron on a carpet event together—all being interviewed at the same time.

“So, Y/n, how does it feel to be in a Maximoff twin sandwich right now?” The interviewer giggled happily, smiling.

Before you could open you’re mouth—“we’re really enjoying it.” Lizzie and Aaron replied at the same time.

The interview gaped and you simply rolled your eyes as the two smirked at either side of you, they’d been talking in sync ever since you’d first met them at the table reading.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t why?” Aaron grinned crookedly. “A beautiful, lovely woman in between us. Honestly, love, there’s not a thought in my head besides you.” He joked, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

“I completely support that.” Lizzie chirped in, “ever since I’ve met this gorgeous lady who i now acknowledge as my partner in everything—she’s taken up all of the room in my brain, and I couldn’t be happier.” She giggled, putting her arm around your waist.

In the middle of them both, with an arm over your shoulder and one around your waist—you simply sighed, sparing the giddy interviewer an exaggerated suffering expression.

Again, the clip switched—it was now another blooper of you in the Iron Man movie, the scene where you handed Tony’s arse to him in the boxing ring. Instead of acting as scripted, Gwen Paltrow got up from her seat and strode over to the boxing ring, stepping inside gracefully and planting one right on your lips.

Presently, you giggled as you thought back to this moment. Gwen was your impulsive queen. Your idol.

From the floor, RDJ squawked in shock, exclaiming about being cheated and betrayed and Gwen flung her stiletto off her foot at him without moving from your lips.

When she finally did, she simply smiled at you kindly, “you just looked so good that I couldn’t not kiss you, sweets.” She shrugged and you, on screen, laughed at her as you leaned back in to kiss her cheek.

(Unfortunately the scene was not included in the movie—but Gwen never wasted an opportunity to talk about it, and you, if the chance arose).

The clip moved onto another one—back to the Thor : Ragnarok movie, you and Heimdall were fighting together, however you missed a step in your stunt and ended up stumbling. Idris immediately caught you with a steady arm around your waist, full you to him so you could stabilise yourself.

You smiled up at him thankfully, squeezing his arm in gratitude (totally not because you’d just wanted to feel his bicep).

You watched as your on screen self get distracted again and Idris murmured to Tom who’d now appeared next to him, “I feel like it’s dishonourable how much I want her to fall so I can catch her again now.”

“Mate, trust me,” Tom laughed, “I completely understand. But she doesn’t need the rescuing.”

“That she does not.” Both men smiled fondly as they watched you.

Presently, you were actively refusing to blush.

A different clip started up—Florence Pugh was being interviewed, looking breathtaking in her green dress. “—did you take anything from set?” The interviewer was asking, smiling at Florence.

“Um—not much, just Y/n’s heart.” Florence immediately cracked up at her own joke, smiling widely. “And her underwear too.” She added.

The interviewer opened her mouth to say something more, giggling at Florence as she continued speaking: “and before you ask, no. I wouldn’t be selling, for any price. Finders keepers and all that shite—plus, she’s my girl, so. That rule applies even more so. No one else can take her heart. Or her pants.”

Watching your friend, you giggled at her cheesy smile at her words before getting distracted by your group chat, where multiple of your friends and co-starts had seen your message and were now responding. Your laughter increased tenfold as you opened the thread.

#marvel cast x reader #marvel cast #avengers #the avengers imagine #avengers x reader #famous reader #chris evans x reader #sebastian stan imagine #chris evans imagine #sebastian stan x reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland #chris evans #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #actress reader

3K notes · View notes

losersiren · 5 months

Text

𝒜 𝒥𝑒𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝒴𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒!𝐿𝑜𝓇𝒹

”𝒶𝓈𝓀 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼'𝓁𝓁 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝓎𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓈 𝒶𝒸𝒸𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑜𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈.” A continuation of my oc Ambrose, The lord N: Don't I have a gift for you, Anon! God, I had to rewrite this so many times, BUT I'M DONE!! Eat up! This is a long one! I had to watch so many gun videos (like two), which was unexpected... CW: Fem reader (she/her), acts and talks of violence (not towards the reader), implied murder, threats, guns, fluff (with the reader lol), mocking, power balance (?) Jealousy (or pettiness) Wc: 3.5k

A shotgun sound echoes throughout the forest, followed by yet another dead Grey partridge and light crunches of leaves beneath stomping leather boots.

“That bastard of a man! A prick! Son of a bitch! Son of an adventuress at that!” Ambrose stops in his tracks, reloading his sporting rifle with more gunpowder. Anger consumes his entire being. ”Did you hear what that bloody cocksucker Patrick said to her?” He hissed through his clenched teeth, grabbing the tiny 0.5 mm sphere lead bullet and layering it on top of some fabric. Shoving it inside the rifle barrel, “If what he said changed from the last few hundred times you’ve re-told the incident, then I have no utter clue.” The younger male rolls his eyes, picking up the tenth bird Ambrose has slaughtered this afternoon. He ignores his younger cousin’s sarcastic quip and continues. “ ‘If you wish for a lovely evening, do not be a stranger; send me a letter, and I'll be by your side.’ I should’ve darkened his daylights when those vile words left his devil mouth.” He fixes his gun upright, pushing the first trigger, waiting for another prey to be a victim of his wrath.

“Is she spoken for? Have you outwardly said you intend to court her?” His cousin questions, and Ambrose, in retaliation to his younger relative’s question….blushes like a young girl. Clenching his jaw, he answers, “No,” “Are you mad?!?” “I’ve attempted…but my nervousness has sabotaged me alas.” Astonished, his cousin continues, “Then you have no right to be jealous of her, you fool.”

Bushes start rustling. Ambrose aims and squints instantly, with a pointer finger on the second trigger. A small grey rabbit appears, and immediately, it's killed straight through its skull; a soft smile appears on Ambrose’s face. “For her, I'll be whatever is needed.”

“You are not sane.”

“Don’t be rude, Finch. This is love in its purest form. One day, you’ll understand.” The older male shrugs his shoulders.

“Now,” Ambrose reloads his gun, repeating his past actions, but this time, he looks straight into the other male’s eyes. “What do you know about Patrick Barton?” “I do not-” Ambrose cuts him off. “ Do not lie to me, young Finch…” His voice becomes lower, mocking, his aura more sinister. “You frequent more gentleman clubs than I; lord knows I hate the people and atmosphere of said clubs– Your mother grumbles enough to mine about the subject.” In goes the gunpowder: “You surround yourself with such…’ vast’ personalities from the elites to the ladies of the night.” The grey-eyed man reaches into his waistcoat for a lead bullet. “Yet you tell me– you don’t know about a mere Lord.” He scoffs.

Finch watches his older cousin's actions. Of course, he only asked to spend time with him for information regarding the apple of his eye’s new ‘suitor.’ The young man knows his current situation, the number of Grey partridge carcasses he holds because of Ambrose, and how far deep he’s in the forest, alone with his turbulent cousin. This was a warning, a show of sorts, that he could join these insignificant birds. He tries to swallow the heavy lump stuck in his throat. Ambrose was always the odd man; his smile never reached his eyes, his charm as real as a disloyal man’s ‘ I love you.’ His older cousin wasn’t above putting his hands on his own blood to get what he wanted– Ambrose’s father’s scar is evidence enough.

“He partakes in Hell’s, frequents them more than gentleman’s clubs, a gambler of sorts. Loves it! He brags about the thrills of it and his winnings. Folks whisper that he’s a dishonourable shark. But it's not just hell establishments he attends; If there's someplace to gamble away his earnings, he's there,” Finch sputters his confession.

“And Mills? Does he attend those as well?” “Yes,” The younger lad answers his senior instantly.

Ambrose just hums in return.

Just finishing his task, he aims for his cousin; he wears an inexpressive face, his grey eyes darkened and vacant, with no light, no soul.

“Wait, wait! I told you what you wanted!” Finch pleas. He could run, but in retrospect, how far can he go? Ambrose has a fucking rifle. He’s a good shot, no, an excellent shot. Hell! It’s borderline impossible how he always hits his targets, especially with how hard it is to aim for those things. Finch is panicking; his cousin has already pushed the first trigger. The nervous lad just accepts it; what else could he do? He closes his eyes, expecting his death to come quickly, then he hears a gunshot…

And he's fine…? Another Grey partridge falls from the sky right before him, its dead eye looking at the twenty-year-old.

Ambrose’s gun aims towards the sky. He lowers it. Then he casually approaches the stunned male, who lets out a staggered sigh, relieved he escaped death by a hair. Ambrose looks down at Finch, grabbing his shoulder and leaning in close. “Don’t ever fucking lie to me ever again, especially when the topic concerns my love.” Finch nods rapidly, shaking like a leaf. “Of course, sir, sorry.” Then, the older male releases his shoulders. “Good. Gift those birds to a peasant; perhaps they’ll make dinner with it, oh, and the rabbit, too. Say I have decided to help my community or something along those lines.” He looks at the sky. “I have a woman blessed by aphrodite to court.” His smile is bright, contrasting how he was a mere few seconds ago. He pats his younger cousin’s back and leaves the forest– The lifeless Grey partridge stares back at Finch, and he stares back.

Social calls…How dreadful. Worse is conversing with Lord Barton. He’s a bore, vulgar, and has an underlying inconsiderate, bitter personality. Having your mother as a chaperone does not make the situation any more bearable.

“Have you ever pondered about the future?” he inquires.

What kind of wet rag question is that?

You put on a gentle smile. “Of course I have. Since I was a chit, I would read the local papers with my father-” He cuts you off “Children.” You look at him in confusion. “Pardon?”

The gentleman looks at you like you’re the biggest dunce in the country. “Children, how many children do you wish for? It would be sensible for us to have eight or ten,” “Hah…well…” you lift the tea cup to your mouth.

The man has no decorum…

After that fiasco, you decided to take a stroll downtown, and perhaps you’ll get a book from the local store, some new fabrics from a linen draper, or even some oils. Your pin money given to you by your parents could only cover one item... what a conundrum….

“Do tell me why the viscount’s only daughter is doing without a chaperone?” He leans against the brick wall, arms crossed, his smile beaming.

“Lord Howard, have you dropped your hunting hobby in exchange for stalking?” He chuckles. “Witty as always, but dare I disappoint? I was just strolling about my day and coincidentally saw you– Perhaps fate has decided for us to meet?” He pushes himself off the wall and offers his arm. Was it coincidence or fate…? No, it was none; it was all Ambrose, him asking your fellow lady peers about your whereabouts. Then, wandering near whatever local shops would possibly pique your interest. Memories play in his head, such as when you both were young and would rendezvous at the local forest. You would acquire many hobbies when you were younger– your mother said you would have a higher chance of obtaining a suitor with diverse skills. He would remember them and watch you in amazement when you talked about them.

You made him feel human. You made him feel alive. His father was never a loving one; he gained the son he wanted, and his heir then wanted nothing more to do with him. The only attention Ambrose earned from The Earl was if he needed reprimanding. Every laugh that was too loud, every fork that he unitized improperly, every action, small or big, was scrutinized. His mother was a vacant husk of a woman at home and a social butterfly in the public eye; she watered herself down to being a wife and a mother. She was neither. He detested both of them and hated that damned empty feeling of his soul and heart that matched his vacated house; he felt nothing. His world was as grey as his eyes.

Till he met the colourful Viscount’s daughter– If he got kicked by a horse and lost his memory, he would still somehow remember the day you two met—the memory ingrained in his bones, body, and soul. On the way to your estate, the stately carriage was soundless and suffocating, as if the air was thick. Ambrose remembers how he bore his eyes into his obsidian-polished boots, wishing for the minutes to pass faster.

You were a naive hoyden the first time you introduced yourself; you forgot to say his title and yours. Using his common name and giving him an oh-so-sweet genuine smile, he hadn’t ever seen such an authentic smile for him and only him—not for his parents nor his riches. Just him. Your parents scolded you while apologizing profusely for your ‘disrespect.’ Before his parents could utter something backhanded yet elegant, Ambrose smiled. He didn’t know he could do that. For the first time, the young boy speaks up; he feels this protectiveness over you. But, at the moment, Ambrose couldn't care less about his father's punishment that would soon come; the only thing that mattered was you, and soon he’d found out that it would always be you.

An airy laugh escapes you. “Do you wish for us to be caught in a scandal every time we meet?” He raises a faux, worried face and voice. “Me?!? As a future Earl, I am fulfilling my gentlemanly duties by escorting a fine young lady and keeping her from potential dangers. What’s so scandalous about that?” You take his arm. “You’re far from sane, My Lord.”

“For you, My lady? I hope so,” He says proudly with his chest out.

A comfortable silence lulls you as you look at how the sun hits the trees, people, and him. The sun's rays lighten his dark brown hair, blessing it with an orange hue and grey eyes, becoming Iridescent, more akin to a pearl.

“The latest on dit says Lord Barton has called for your company?” He inquires

Your face grimaces at just the sound of his name. As much as you loathe the man, he is a viable suitor with good money and an excellent reputation, but a suitable suitor does not equate to a good man. “He’s…an interesting individual…” His jaw clenches. You’re not being open as he wants; you’re holding back…he hates that you might be hiding something. Not you per se but that damned rake Patrick. “He’s a rake,” he spits out, and you gaze at him. He’s uncharacteristically serious.

You smile. “He is,” Ambrose turns his head to you, returning your smile.

“Quite the feat to dissect the woman you are trying to woo as well.” The gentleman’s eyebrows furrow. “He did not,” you huff. “Oh, he did!” Ambrose stops in his tracks and mummers your name softly. “If you would only permit it, Allow me to court you,” You raise an eyebrow at the sudden question, “Pardon?” He continues, “That bastard doesn’t deserve you.” “And you do?” he chuckles. “No, but I’ll do everything you ask me to, then maybe one day I'll deserve you; you wish for dresses? I'll buy you the tailor and store. Money is far from an issue. Heavens, ask for the world, and I'll give you it with the stars and beyond as accessories.” He turns his whole body to you, his hands finding yours, his leather gloves causing a barrier between your soft ones.

He hates that

“Ambrose…”

“Please…only if you’ll allow me.” The love-sick man entreated “But what about the other more suitable ladies? I’ve heard-” “I do not care for them,” He interrupts you. “Every second I was apart, I only longed for you. The only reason I kept my studies up was to be the perfect suitor equal to you.” He caresses your knuckles. The butterflies in your stomach flutter more after each word spills out of his mouth. Your relationship with Ambrose was vague at most. You couldn’t put your finger on it; every time you were in his presence, you had this comfort no one else could recreate. You were hesitant to put a label onto it, and maybe you feel this way because he was the only man you truly felt you could be yourself with.

“If you wish to court me, you must’ve thought to ask my father for permission rather than myself.”

“I could’ve,” He pauses, “But I'd rather ask you first; I need your permission. I am not marrying your father, am I? I need to hear you wish for me as much as I yearn for you,”

You amuse the thought. Ambrose is a prick at times, his teasing relentless, but despite that, he’s charming, sincere, soothing, and protective. He’s a good man, indeed.

“I’ll bite, My lord.” “Please do.” He smirked, masking his nervousness.

You slap his hand lightly, reprimanding him, “Let me continue, you brute…I’ll allow you to court me.” “Truly?” he exclaims, Astonished. “Truly,” You nod meekly. In a haste, he kisses your bare hands, each knuckle, each finger. “I’ve been blessed indeed,” his voice is as blissful as a child receiving a sugary dessert. You yank your hands away from him, flushed from his actions. “You dog, we are in the public,” you scold him. “I shall make it up to you in our next outing; I vow,” You swear you could see a wagging tale behind him. You sigh.

The day went on, and by sundown, Ambrose had hired a post-chaise for the both of you despite your protests of you living just around the corner. He claimed he had ‘Earl-like duties to attend to’ and you were just on the route back either way. As a gentleman should, he dropped you off promptly; as he left in the carriage, away from your estate, you softly ran your fingers over your knuckles. A smile adorns your face. “What an oaf,” you whisper to yourself. A fond grin decorates Ambrose’s face, a few giggles even, but as euphoric this day was, he did have business to attend to. A certain lord has decided to make his lacklustre presence known, and Ambrose couldn’t celebrate until he exterminated said pest.

Gentleman’s clubs were boisterous, loud, and untrustworthy. The men here are just as vile as the feed that is fed to pigs. The soon-to-be-Earl disliked them and only engaged in them because he needed to build his reputation. He may be judgemental, but he isn’t an idiot. Others may regard him as a friend, but for him, he could care less for it. The males around him start to recognize Ambrose, yelling pleasantries, which he would return and shut down politely or…as politely as he could in his eyes. A booming voice reverberates against the wall of the finely furnished building, only belonging to the one and only Patrick Barton. Unconsciously, a scowl appears on the young man’s face. Ambrose knew more than he led on about Patrick; he heard whispers of Barton’s hobby in the mills, rigging the boxing matches that were bid on by elites and peasants alike. Word says he would pay one of the desperate participants to lose on purpose– word is bound to escape one day or another. It is not a sustainable income source. Yet another reason Lord Barton is not fit for you.

Ambrose walks towards the table where the bastard sits, narrowing his eyes.

Lord Barton and his goons recognize the lord approaching them. Barton speaks first: “Lord Howard! Is it a blue moon? What on earth might’ve convinced you to come out of that dreadful estate?” He laughs, arranging some snuff onto the mahogany to snort. “Perhaps it’s because you plan on courting his woman.” a nameless male inquires. “No, could it be? I don’t blame you, Ambrose; she is a fine woman, isn’t she? She is just in need of training,” another male said, joining in. “So does every woman in this country.” Another chuckle escapes the vulgar lord.

Ambrose’s leather gloves wrinkle. His fist clenched to prevent him from beating the man in front of him into a pummel. He has a plan, the grey-eyed man repeats in his head. Then he forces a smile on his face. “On the contrary, I've decided to pick up a new gambling hobby; why not ask the man of the hour himself for advice? Or even a game or two.” Ambrose signals a servant and orders drinks for the table. The man in question gets up, slapping Ambrose on his back. “Atta boy, never let a woman come between men; let bygones be bygones, what a joyance plan! Come, come.” The night continues, and Patrick is as drunk as the rest of the men in the club; Ambrose, the gentleman he is, offers him to join his carriage in his words. 'Let’s start this newfound friendship off with a bang.' Cold water hits the once-drunken lord, and he awakens, gasping for air on the cold textured ground. ‘Where am I?’ he thinks, discombobulated, looking around and grasping his situation. The dark forest surrounds him, almost engulfing him; the trees blow along with the wind, and the creatures of the night rustle in the background. A voice comes from the shadows, luring him away from his racing thoughts, “Gunpowder is such a messy substance, but did you know a man invented a gun powered by air? What a time to be alive! How revolutionary!” Patrick looks at the man, most of his body consumed by the darkness of nightfall, the moon only making his grey eyes visible.

“Ambrose, what the utter fuck-” “Don’t interrupt.” He says sternly. “As I was saying, a gun powered by air,” He continues. “A watchmaker of all things invented it; how preposterous! He eliminated gunpowder entirely and named this new gun Windbüchse or, I know you only know English, so pardon me, I'll translate, wind gun.”

“It’s far better than my hunting rifle; the tedious thing is quite a hassle to reload. But this wind gun can load much faster, 20 rounds a minute! Compared to the other, it is much quieter. It's a shame its range is far smaller.” The man standing pouts. “But all is well. The Austrian army decided to order thousands of supplies, and it’s fortunate I even got my hands on one.” Patrick squints, trying to distinguish Ambrose, and it finally sets in. In a forest he doesn’t know of, with a man who has a gun in his hand in the dead of night. Not just any man but a Lord known for his physical fitness and hunting expertise since he was a just a lad.

Fuck

“If this is about your lady, Ambrose, you can have her! There’s no need to do this!” Patrick tries to reason with the love-sick lord, yet it's no use. The other man scoffs, “I’ve always detested men like you, greedy, hypocritical. Ready to jump boat when things get too tough for your liking– where is your backbone? Where is your spine? Your pride?” Ambrose circles the pain-filled man on the ground. “You never deserved to even be in her presence; you aren’t even entitled to breathe the same air as her,” He then spontaneously kicks Patrick's ribs, causing him to curl up on a ball, yelping. Ambrose looks down at the pathetic man. “But, I am a fair man, unlike you, so I'll give you a chance to run while I read you the note I have written in your writing announcing your hasty departure after news of your rigging in the mills comes to light, your writing was not hard to duplicate as well; who knew mother’s penmanship lessons would come in handy,” He chuckles.

“Now run, monkey, while you still can.” He sets the trigger and then turns the spindle of his gun clockwise till a clicking sound can be heard, indicating he doesn’t need to turn it anymore. Ambrose opens the barrel, puts in an 8.5 mm bullet, and then shuts it.

“I’m sure we can talk this out reasonably, money! I have money! Have it all; buy your woman something nice-” Patrick feels his thigh get warmer at first rather than the pulsing pain of a bullet shooting through his thigh that would soon follow shortly after. He screams.“To think you have the naivety to think I couldn’t fund my lover for generations on end,”

Ambrose rolls his eyes. “Scream louder; perhaps you’ll awaken a bear to save you,” yet again, he starts reloading his wind gun, faster at that, “I am not one to repeat himself nor give mercy. Run, rabbit.”

With adrenaline coursing through his body, Patrick runs…or well, attempts to.

Ambrose reaches into his waistcoat for the forged letter, clearing his voice to read it while his other hand holds his gun. Though his attention should be on the task at hand, he is utterly distracted by possible outing plans you would adore. Shall he go canoeing with you? Or a picnic? A carriage ride underneath the newly blooming cherry blossoms? Why not all three?

Oh. how he longs to see you again.

Notes: I'm gonna be so honest, romance is the hardest thing to write for me. It's probably noticeable, forgive me (⇀‸↼‶) I had to do some research for this one, but it was a fun process learning more about Regency lingo and gun history. For my next full fic. I was thinking of a yandere! Cannibalistic 50's housewife, but idk….hehe…if you have any ideas send them to my inbox!! I'd like to say again THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT!!! Reading all your kind words makes my little shy heart soar (o^ ^o) see you soon, my little guppies!!

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